DAUGHTER OF THE SUN
A Tale of Adventure
by
JACKSON GREGORY
(Quien Sabe)
Author ofTimber Wolf, The Everlasting Whisper, Desert Valley, Etc.
[Frontispiece: Zoraida Castelmar, daughter of the Montezumas]
Grosset & DunlapPublishers -------- New YorkCopyright, 1921, byCharles Scribner's SonsCopyright as "The Treasure of the Hills,"1920, 1921, by Street & Smith
TO
ZINGARA
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. IN WHICH A YOUNG AMERICAN KNOWN AS "HEADLONG" PLAYS AT DICE WITH ONE IN MAN'S CLOTHING WHO IS NOT A MAN
II. IN WHICH A SPELL IS WORKED AND AN EXPEDITION IS BEGUN
III. OF THE NEW MOON, A TALE OF AZTEC TREASURE AND A MYSTERY
IV. INDICATING THAT THAT WHICH APPEARS THE EARTHLY PARADISE MAY PROVE QUITE ANOTHER SORT OF PLACE
V. HOW ONE NOT ACCUSTOMED TO TAKING ANOTHER MAN'S ORDERS RECEIVES THE COMMAND OF THE QUEEN LADY
VI. CONCERNING THAT WHICH LAY IN THE EYES OF ZORAIDA
VII. OF A GIRL HELD FOR RANSOM AND OF A TOAST DRUNK BY ONE INFATUATED
VIII. HOW A MAN MAY CARRY A MESSAGE AND NOT KNOW HIMSELF TO BE A MESSENGER
IX. WHICH BEGINS WITH A LITTLE SONG AND ENDS WITH TROUBLE BETWEEN FRIENDS
X. IN WHICH A MAN KEEPS HIS WORD AND ZORAIDA DARES AND LAUGHS
XI. IN WHICH THERE IS MORE THAN ONE LIE TOLD AND THE TRUTH IS GLIMPSED
XII. IN WHICH AN OVERTURE IS MADE, AN ANSWER IS POSTPONED AND A DOOR IS LOCKED
XIII. CONCERNING WOMAN'S WILES AND WITCHERY
XIV. CONCERNING A DIFFICULT SITUATION, RECKLESSLY INVITED
XV. OF THE ANCIENT GARDENS OF THE GOLDEN TEZCUCAN
XVI. HOW TWO, IN THE LABYRINTH OF MIRRORS, WATCHED DISTANT HAPPENINGS
XVII. HOW ONE WHO HAS EVER COMMANDED MUST LEARN TO OBEY
XVIII. OF FLIGHT, PURSUIT AND A LAIR IN THE CLIFFS
XIX. HOW ONE WHO HIDES AND WATCHES MAY BE WATCHED BY ONE HIDDEN
XX. IN WHICH A ROCK MOVES, A DISCOVERY IS MADE AND MORE THAN ONE AVENUE IS OPENED
XXI. HOW ONE RETURNS UNWILLINGLY WHITHER HE WOULD WILLINGLY ENTER BY ANOTHER DOOR
XXII. REGARDING A NECKLACE OF PEARLS AND CERTAIN PLANS OF TWO WHO WERE MEANT TO BE ONE
DAUGHTER OF THE SUN
CHAPTER I
IN WHICH A YOUNG AMERICAN KNOWN AS "HEADLONG" PLAYS AT DICE WITH ONE IN MAN'S CLOTHING WHO IS NOT A MAN
Jim Kendric had arrived and the border town knew it well. All who knewthe man foresaw that he would come with a rush, tarry briefly for a bitof wild joy and leave with a rush for the Lord knew where and the Lordknew why. For such was ever the way of Jim Kendric.
A letter at the postoffice had been the means of advising the entirecommunity of the coming of Kendric. The letter was from Bruce West,down in Lower California, and scrawled across the flap wereinstructions to the postmaster to hold it for Jim Kendric who wouldarrive within a couple of weeks. Furthermore the word URGENT was notto be overlooked.
Among the men drawn together in hourly expectation of the arrival ofKendric, one remarked thoughtfully:
"Jim's Mex friend is in town."
"Ruiz Rios?" someone asked, a man from the outside.
"Been here three days. Just sticking around and doing nothing butsmoke cigarettes. Looks like he was waiting."
"What for?"
"Waiting for Jim, maybe?" was suggested.
Two or three laughed at that. In their estimation Ruiz Rios might bethe man to knife his way out of a hole, but not one to go out of hisway to cross the trail made wide and recklessly by Jim Kendric.
"A half hour ago," came the supplementary information from anotherquarter, "a big automobile going to beat the band pulls up in front ofthe hotel. The Mex is watching and when a woman climbs down he grabsher traps and steers her into the hotel."
Immediately this news bringer was the man of the moment. But he hadhad scant time to admit that he hadn't seen her face, that she had worna thick black veil, that somehow she just _seemed_ young and that he'dbet she was too darn pretty to be wasting herself on Rios, when JimKendric himself landed in their midst.
He was powdered with alkali dust from the soles of his boots to thecrown of his black hat and he looked unusually tall because he wasunusually gaunt. He had ridden far and hard. But the eyes were thesame old eyes of the same old headlong Jim Kendric, on fire on theinstant, dancing with the joy of striking hands with the old-timers,shining with the man's supreme joy of life.
"I'm no drinking man and you know it," he shouted at them, his voicebooming out and down the quiet blistering street. "And I'm no gamblingman. I'm steady and sober and I'm a regular fool for conservativeinvestments! But there's a time when a glass in the hand is as pat aseggs in a hen's nest and a man wants to spend his money free! Come on,you bunch of devil-hounds; lead me to it."
It was the rollicking arrival which they had counted on since this wasthe only way Jim Kendric knew of getting back among old friends and oldsurroundings. There was nothing subtle about him; in all things he wasopen and forthright and tempestuous. In a man's hardened and buffetedbody he had kept the heart of a harum-scarum boy.
"It's only a step across the line into Old Town," he reminded them."And the Mexico gents over there haven't got started reforming yet.Blaze the trail, Benny. Shut up your damned old store and postoffice,Homer, and trot along. It's close to sunset any way; I'll finance thepilgrimage until sunup."
When he mentioned the "postoffice" Homer Day was recalled to hisofficial duties as postmaster. He gave Kendric the letter from BruceWest. Kendric ripped open the envelope, glanced at the contents,skimming the lines impatiently. Then he jammed the letter into hispocket.
"Just as I supposed," he announced. "Bruce has a sure thing in the wayof the best cattle range you ever saw; he'll make money hand over fist.But," and he chuckled his enjoyment, "he's just a trifle too busyscaring off Mexican bandits and close-herding his stock to get anysleep of nights. Drop him a postcard, Homer; tell him I can't come.Let's step over to Old Town."
"Ruiz Rios is in town, Jim," he was informed.
"I know," he retorted lightly. "But I'm not shooting trouble nowadays.Getting older, you know."
"How'd _you_ know?" asked Homer.
"Bruce said so in his letter; Rios is a neighbor down in LowerCalifornia. Now, forget Ruiz Rios. Let's start something."
There were six Americans in the little party by the time they hadwalked the brief distance to the border and across into Old Town.Before they reached the swing doors of the Casa Grande the red ball ofthe sun went down.
"Fat Ortega knows you're coming, Jim," Kendric was advised. "I guesseverybody in town knows by now."
And plainly everybody was interested. When the six men, going in twoby two, snapped back the swinging doors there were a score of men inthe place. Behind the long bar running along one side of the big roomtwo men were busy setting forth bottles and glasses. The air was hazywith cigarette smoke. There was a business air, an air of readinessand expectancy about the gaming tables though no one at this early hourhad suggested playing. Ortega himself, fat and greasy and pompous,leaned against his bar and twisted a stogie between his puffy,pendulous lips. He merely batted his eyes at Kendric, who noticed himnot at all.
A golden twenty dollar coin spun and winked upon the bar impelled byJim's big fingers and Kendric's voice called heartily:
"I'd be happy to have every man here drink with me."
The invitation was naturally accepted. The men ranged along the bar,elbow to elbow; the
bartenders served and, with a nod toward the manwho stood treat, poured their own red wine. Even Ortega, though hemade no attempt toward a civil response, drank. The more liquor pouredinto a man's stomach here, the more money in Ortega's pocket and he wasavaricious. He'd drink in his own shop with his worst enemy providedthat enemy paid the score.
Kendric's friends were men who were always glad to drink and play agame of cards, but tonight they were gladder for the chance to talkwith "Old Headlong." When he had bought the house a couple of roundsof drinks, Kendric withdrew to a corner table with a dozen of hisold-time acquaintances and for upward of an hour they sat and foundmuch to talk of. He had his own experiences to recount and sketchedthem swiftly, telling of a venture in a new silver mining country and acertain profit made; of a "misunderstanding," as he mirthfullyexplained it, now and then, with the children of the South; of horseswapping and a taste of the pearl fisheries of La Paz; of no end ofadventures such as men of his class and nationality find every day introublous Mexico. Twisty Barlow, an old-time friend with whom once hehad gone adventuring in Peru, a man who had been deep sea sailor andnear pirate, real estate juggler, miner, trapper and mule skinner, satat his elbow, put many an incisive question, had many a yarn of his ownto spin.
"Headlong, old mate," said Twisty Barlow once, laying his knotty handon Kendric's arm, "by the livin' Gawd that made us, I'd like to goa-journeyin' with the likes of you again. And I know the land that'swaitin' for the pair of us. Into San Diego we go and there we take acertain warped and battered old stem-twister the owner calls aschooner. And we beat it out into the Pacific and turn south until wecome to a certain land maybe you can remember having heard me tellabout. And there---- It's there, Headlong, old mate!"
Kendric's eyes shone while Barlow spoke, but then they always shonewhen a man hinted of such things as he knew lay in the sailorman'smind. But at the end he shook his head.
"You're talking about tomorrow or next day, Twisty," he laughed,filling his deep lungs contentedly. "I've had a bellyful ofmanana-talk here of late. All I'm interested in is tonight." Herattled some loose coins in his pocket. "I've got money in my pocket,man!" he cried, jumping to his feet. "Come ahead. I stake every manjack of you to ten dollars and any man who wins treats the house."
Meanwhile Ortega's place had been doing an increasing business. Nowthere was desultory playing at several tables where men were placingtheir bets at poker, at seven-and-a-half and at roulette; the farolayout would be offering its invitation in a moment; there was a gameof dice in progress.
Kendric's companions moved about from table to table laughing, makingsmall bets or merely watching. But presently as half dollars were wonand lost the insidious charm of hazard touched them. Monte stuck fastto the faro table for fifteen minutes, at the end of which time he rosewith a sigh, tempted to go back to Kendric for a "real stake" and cutin for a man's play. But he thought better of it and strolled away,rolling a cigarette and watching the others. Jerry bought a ten dollarstack of chips and assayed his fortune with roulette, playing his usualluck and his usual system; with every hazard lost he lost his temperand doubled his bet. He was the first man to join Monte.
For upward of an hour of play Kendric was content with looking on andhad not hazarded a cent beyond the money flung down on the table to beplayed by his friends. But now at last he looked about the roomeagerly, his head up, his eyes blazing with the up-surge of the spiritriding him. About his middle was a money belt, safely brought backacross the border; in his wild heart was the imperative desire to play.Play high and quick and hard. It was then that for the first time henoted Ruiz Rios. Evidently the Mexican had just now entered from therear. At the far end of the room where the kerosene lamp light wasnone too good Rios was standing with a solitary slim-bodied companion.The companion, to call for all due consideration later, barely caughtJim's roving eye now; he saw Rios and he told himself that thegamblers' goddess had whisked him in at the magic moment. For in oneessential, as in no others, was Ruiz Rios a man after Jim Kendric's ownheart: the Mexican was a man to play for any stake and do no moralizingover the result.
"Ortega," cried Kendric, looking all the time challengingly at Rios,"there is only one game worth the playing. King of games? The emperorof games! Have you a man here to shake dice with me?"
Ortega understood and made no answer, Rios, small and sinister andhandsome, his air one of eternal well-bred insolence, kept his owncounsel. There came a quick tug at his sleeve; his companion whisperedin his ear. Thus it was that for the first time Kendric really lookedat this companion. And at the first keen glance, in spite of the maleattire, the loose coat and hat pulled low, the scarf worn high aboutthe neck, he knew that it was a woman who had entered with Ruiz Riosand now whispered to him.
"His wife," thought Kendric. "Telling him not to play. She's got hernerve coming in here."
The question of her relationship to the Mexican was open tospeculation; the matter of her nerve was not. That was definitelysettled by the carriage of her body which was at once defiant andimperious; by the tilt of the chin, barely glimpsed; by the way shestood her ground as one after another pair of eyes turned upon heruntil every man in the room stared openly. It was as useless for herto seek to disguise her sex thus as it would be for the moon to mask asa candle. And she knew it and did not care. Kendric understood thaton the moment.
"Between us there has been at times trouble, senor," said Rios lightly."I do not know if you care to play? If so, I will be most pleased fora little game."
"I'd shake dice with the devil himself, friend Ruiz," answered Jimheartily.
"I must have some money from Ortega here," said Rios carelessly."Unless my check will satisfy?"
"Better get the money," returned Kendric pleasantly.
As Rios turned away with the proprietor Kendric was impelled to lookagain toward the woman. She had moved a little to one side so that nowshe stood in the shadow cast by an angle of the wall. He could not seeher eyes, so low had she drawn her wide _sombrero_, nor could he makeout much of her face. He had an impression of an oval line curvingsoftly into the folds of her scarf; of masses of black hair. But onething he knew: she was looking steadily at him. It did not matter thathe could not see her eyes; he could feel them. Under that hidden gazethere was a moment during which he was oddly stirred, vaguely agitated.It was as though she, some strange woman, were striving to subject hismind to the spell of her own will; as though across the room she wereseeking not only to read his thought but to mold it to the shape of herown thought. He had the uncanny sensation that her mind was riflinghis, that it would be hard to hide from those probing mental fingersany slightest desire or intention. Kendric shook himself savagely,angered that even for an instant he should have submitted to suchsickish fancies. But even so, and while he strode to the nearby tablefor the dice cup, he could not free himself from the impression whichshe had laid upon him.
She beckoned Rios as he came back with Ortega. He went to her side andshe whispered to him.
"We will play here, at this end of the room, senor," Rios said toKendric.
As Kendric looked quite naturally from the one who spoke to the onefrom whom so obviously the order had come, he saw for the first timethe gleam of the woman's eyes. A very little she had lifted the brimof her hat so that from beneath she could watch what went forward.They held his gaze riveted; they seemed to glow in the shadows asthough with some inner light. He could not judge their color; theywere mere luminous pools. He started with an odd fancy; he caughthimself wondering if those eyes could see in the dark?
Again he shrugged as though to shake physically from him these strangefancies. He snatched up the little table and brought it to where RuizRios waited, putting it down not three feet from the Mexican's silentcompanion. And all the time, though now he refused to turn his headtoward her, he was conscious of the strangely disturbing certainty thatthose luminous eyes were regarding him with unshifting intensity.
Kendric
abruptly spilled the dice out of the cup so that they rolled onthe table top.
"One die, one throw, ace high?" he asked curtly of Rios.
The Mexican nodded.
It was in the air that there would be big play, and men crowded around.Briefly, the unusual presence of a woman, here at Fat Ortega's, wasforgotten.
"Select the lucky cube," Kendric invited Rios. The Mexican's slimbrown fingers drew one of the dice toward him, choosing at random.
Kendric opened vest and shirt and after a moment of fumbling drew forthand slammed down on the table a money belt that bulged and struck likea leaden bar.
"Gold and U. S. bank notes," he announced. "Keep your eye on me, SenorDon Ruiz Rios de Mexico, while I count 'em."
Unbuttoning the pocket flaps, he began pouring forth the treasure whichhe had brought back with him after two years in Old Mexico. Boyish andgleeful, he enjoyed the expressions that came upon the faces about himas he counted aloud and Rios watched with narrow, suspicious eyes. Hesorted the gold, arranging in piles of twenties and tens, all Americanminted; he smoothed out the bank notes and stacked them. And at theend, looking up smilingly, he announced:
"An even ten thousand dollars, senor."
"You damn fool!" cried out Twisty Barlow hysterically. "Why, man, withthat pile me an' you could sail back into San Diego like kings! Nowthat dago will pick you clean an' you know it."
No one paid any attention to Barlow and he, after that one involuntaryoutburst, recognized himself for the fool and kept his mouth shut,though with difficulty.
Ruiz Rios's dark face was almost Oriental in its immobility. He didnot even look interested. He merely considered after a dreamy,abstracted fashion.
Again a quick eager hand was laid on his arm, again his companionwhispered in his ear. Rios nodded curtly and turned to Ortega.
"Have you the money in the house?" he demanded.
"_Seguro_," said the gambling house owner. "I expected Senor Kendric."
"You do me proud," laughed Jim. "Let's see the color of it in Americanmoney."
With most men the winning or losing of ten thousand dollars, thoughthey played heavily, was a matter of hours and might run on into daysif luck varied tantalizingly. All of the zest of those battling hoursJim Kendric meant to crowd into one moment. There was much of love inthe heart of Headlong Jim Kendric, but it was a love which had neverpoured itself through the common channels, never identified itself withthose two passions which sway most men: he had never known love for awoman and in him there was no money-greed. For him women did not comeeven upon the rim of his most distant horizon; as for money, when hehad none of it he sallied forth joyously in its quest holding thatthere was plenty of it in this good old world and that it was as rarefun running it down as hunting any other big game. When he had plentyof it he had no thought of other matters until he had spent it or givenit away or watched it go its merry way across a table with a green toplike a fleet of golden argosies on a fair emerald sea voyaging insearch of a port of adventure. His love was reserved for his friendsand for his adventurings, for clear dawns in solitary mountains, forspring-times in thick woods, for sweeps of desert, for what he wouldhave called "Life."
"Ready?" Ruiz Rios was asking coldly. Ortega had returned with adrawer from his safe clasped in his fat hands; the money was countedand piled.
"Let her roll," cried Kendric heartily.
Never had there been a game like this at Ortega's. Men packed closerand closer, pushing and crowding. The Mexican slowly rattled thesingle die in the cup. Then, with a quick jerk of the wrist, he turnedit out on the table. It rolled, poised, settled. The result amplysatisfied Rios and to the line of the lips under his small blackmustache came the hint of a smile; he had turned up a six.
"The ace is high!" cried Jim. He caught up die and box, lifting thecupped cube high above his head. His eyes were bright with excitement,his cheeks were flushed, his voice rang out eagerly.
"Out of six numbers there is only one ace," smiled Ruiz Rios.
"One's all I want, senor," laughed Jim. And made his throw.
When large ventures are made, in money or otherwise, it would seem thatthe goddess of chance is no myth but a potent spirit and that she takesa firm deciding hand. At a time like this, when two men seek to put atnaught her many methods of prolonging suspense, she in turn seeksstubbornly to put at naught their endeavors to defeat her aims. HadJim Kendric thrown the ace then he would have won and the thing wouldhave been ended; had he shaken anything less than a six the spoilswould have been the Mexican's. That which happened was that out of thegambler's cup Kendric turned another six.
Ruiz Rios's impassive face masked all emotion; Kendric's displayedfrankly his sheer delight. He was playing his game; he was getting hisfun.
"A tie, by thunder!" he cried out in huge enjoyment. "We're getting arun for our money, Mexico. Shall I shake next?"
"Follow your hand," said Ruiz Rios briefly.
That which followed next would have appeared unbelievable to any whohave not over and over watched the inexplicable happenings of a gamingtable. Kendric made his second throw and lifted his eyebrowsquizzically at the result. He had turned out the deuce, the lowestnumber possible. A little eagerly, while men began to mutter in theirexcitement, Rios snatched up cup and die and threw. Once already hehad counted ten thousand as good as won; now he made the same mistake.For the incredible happened and he, too, showed a deuce, making asecond tie.
Ruiz cursed his disgust and hurled the box down. Kendric burst intobooming laughter.
"A game for men to talk about, friend Rios!" he said. And at themoment he came near feeling a kindly feeling for a man whom he hatedmost cordially and with high reason. "Follow your hand."
Rios received the box from a hand offering it and made his third throwswiftly. The six again.
"Where we began, senor," he said, grown again impassive.
Kendric was all impatient eagerness to make his throw, looking like aboy chafing at a moment's restraint against his anticipated pleasures.
"A six to beat," he said.
And beat it he did, with the odds all against him. He turned up theace and won ten thousand dollars.
In the brief hush which came before the shouts and jabberings of manyvoices, Ruiz Rios's companion pulled him sharply by the arm, whisperingquickly. But this time Rios shook his head.
"I am through," he said bluntly. "Another time, maybe."
But the fever, to which he had so eagerly surrendered, was justgripping Kendric. That he was playing for big stakes was the thingthat counted. That he had won meant less to him than it would havemeant to any other man in the room or any other man who had ever beenin the room or any other man who would ever come into the room. He sawthat Ruiz was through. But, as his dancing eyes sped around amongother faces, he marked the twinkling lights of covetousness in FatOrtega's rat eyes and he knew that, long ago, Ortega himself had playedfor any stake. Beside Ortega there was another man present who mightbe inclined to accept a hazard, Tony Munoz, who conducted the rivalgambling house across the street and who was Ortega's much despisedson-in-law. Long ago Ortega and Tony had quarreled and when Tony hadrun away with Eloisa, Ortega's pretty daughter, men said it was as muchto spite the old man as for love of the girl's snapping eyes. Tonymight play, if Ortega refused.
"One throw for the whole thing, Ortega?" challenged Kendric. "You andme."
"Have I twenty thousand _pesos_ in my pocket?" jeered Ortega. "Youmake me the big gringo bluff."
"Bluff? Call it then, man. That's what a bluff is for. And you don'tneed the money in the pocket. This house is yours; your cellars arealways full of expensive liquors; there is money in your till andsomething in your safe yet, I'll bet my hat. Put up the whole thingagainst my wad and I'll shake you for it."
Plainly Ortega was tempted. And why not? There lay on the greentable, winking up alluringly at him, twenty thousand dollars. His, ifsimply a little cube with numbers on it tu
rned in proper fashion.Twenty thousand dollars! He licked his fat pendulous lips. And, tofurther tempt him, he estimated that his entire holding here, barfixtures, tables, wines and cash, were worth not above fifteenthousand. But then, this was all that he had in the world and thoughhe craved further gains until the craving was acute like a pain, stillhe clung avidly to the power and the prestige and the luxury that werehis as owner of la Casa Grande. In brief, he was too much the moralcoward to be such a gambler as Kendric called for.
"No," he snapped angrily.
"Look," said Kendric, smiling. He shook the die and threw it,inverting the cup over it so that it was hidden. "I do not know what Ihave thrown, Ortega, and you do not know. I will bet you five thousanddollars even money that it is a six or better."
Here were odds and Ortega jerked up his head. Five thousand to bet----
"No," he said again. "No. I don't play. You have devil's luck."
With a flourish Jim lifted the cup to see what he had thrown. Againhis utterly mirthful laughter boomed out. It was the deuce, the lowthrow. Ortega strained forward, saw and flushed. Had he but been manenough to say "Yes!" to the odds offered him he would have been fivethousand dollars richer this instant! Five thousand dollars! He ran aflabby hand across a moist brow.
"Where's the luck in that throw?" demanded Kendric, fully enjoying theplay of expression on Ortega's face.
"The luck," grumbled Ortega, "was that I did not bet you. If I had betit would have been a six, no less."
"Tony Munoz," called Kendric, turning. "Will it be you?"
"No!" shouted Ortega, already angered in his grasping soul, ready tospew forth his wrath in any direction, always more than ready to railat his son-in-law. "Munoz has no business in my house. Who is bosshere? It is me!"
Kendric seeing that Tony Munoz was contenting himself with sneering andcertainly would not play, began gathering up the money on the table.It was then that for the first time he heard the voice of Ruiz Rios'scompanion.
"I will play Senor Kendric."
The voice ran through the quiet of the room musically. The utterancewas low, gentle, the accent was the soft, tender accent of Old Spainwith some subtle flavor of other alien races. No man in the room hadever heard such sweet, soothing music as was made by her slow words.After the sound died away a hush remained and through men's memoriesthe cadences repeated themselves like lingering echoes. Kendrichimself stared at her wonderingly, not knowing why her hidden lookstirred him so, not knowing why there should be a spell worked by fivequiet words. Nor did he find the spell entirely pleasant; as her lookhad done, so now her speech vaguely disturbed him. His emotion, thoughnot outright irritation, was akin to it. He was opening his lips tosay curtly, "I do not play dice with women, senora," when Ortega'ssudden outburst forestalled him.
Kendric had barely had the time to register the faint impression of theodd sensation which this companion of Ruiz Rios awoke in him, when hewas set to puzzle over Ortega's explosion. Why should the gaming-housekeeper raise so violent an objection to any sort of a game played inhis place? Perhaps Ortega himself could not have explained clearlysince it is doubtful if he felt clearly; it is likely that a childishlyblind anger had spurted up venomously in his heart when Kendric hadexposed the deuce and men had laughed and Ortega felt as though he hadlost five thousand dollars. In such a case a man's wrath explodesreadily, combustion breaking forth spontaneously like an oily rag inthe sun. At any rate, his fat face grown hectic, he lifted hand andvoice, shouting:
"I will have no women gambling here. This is my place, a place formen. You," and he leveled his forefinger at the slim figure, "go!"
She ignored him. Stepping forward quickly, she whipped off her leftglove and in the bare white fingers, blazing with red and green stonesset in golden circlets, she caught up the dice cup. Even now littlewas seen of her face for the other hand had drawn lower the wide hat,higher the scarf about the throat.
"One die, one throw for it all, Senor Kendric?" she asked.
"I tell you, No!" shouted Ortega. "And No again!"
Then, when she stood unmoved, her air of insolence like Ruiz Rios's,but even more marked, Ortega burst forward between the men standing inhis way, shoving them to right and left with the powerful sweep of histhick arms. His uplifted hand came down on her shoulder, thrusting herbackward. Her ungloved hand, the left as Kendric marked while hewatched interestedly, flashed to her bosom, and leaped out again, athin-bladed knife in the grip of the bejewelled fingers. Ortega sawand feared and, grown nimble, sprang back from her. Quickly enough tosave the life in him, not so quickly as entirely to avoid the sweep ofthe knife. His sleeve fell apart, slit from shoulder to wrist, and inthe opening the man's flesh showed with a thin red line marking it.
There was tumult and confusion for a little while, hardly more than amoment it seemed to Kendric. He only knew that at the end of it Ortegahad gone grumbling away, led by a couple of friends who no doubt wouldbandage his wounded arm, and that the woman, having put her knife away,appeared not in the least disturbed. He knew then that while mentalked and shouted about him he had not once withdrawn his eyes fromher.
"One throw?" she was asking again, the voice as tender, as vaguelydisquieting to his senses, as full of low music as before. He shookhimself as though rousing from a trance.
"I do not play at dice with ladies, Senora," he said bluntly.
"Did you bluff, after all?" she asked curiously. She seemed sincere inher question; he fancied a note of disappointment in her tone. It wasas though she had said before, "Here is a man who is not afraid of bigstakes," and as though now she were revising her estimate of him. "Menwill call you Big Mouth," she added. "And I, I will laugh in yourface."
"Where is the money you would wager against mine?" demanded Jim,thinking he saw the short easy way out.
Already she was prepared for the question. In her gloved hand was alittle hand bag, a trifle in black leather the size of a man's purse.She opened it and spilled the contents on the table. Poured out intothe mellow lamp light a long glorious string of pearls appeared, eachseparate lustrous gem glowing with its silvery sheen, satiny andtremulous with its shining loveliness.
"Holy God!" gasped Twisty Barlow.
"There is the worth of your money many times over," came the quietassurance in the low voice like liquid music.
"If they are real pearls," muttered Kendric. "And not just imitations."
She made no reply. He felt that from the shelter of the broad hat brima pair of inscrutable eyes were smiling scornfully.
"Can't I tell real pearls like them, when I see 'em?" cried TwistyBarlow excitedly. He leaned forward and caught the great necklace upin his eager hands. "What would I be wantin' that steamer in San DiegoBay for if I didn't know?" He held them up to the lamp light; hefingered them one after the other; he put them down at the endreverently and with a great sigh. "The worth of them, Headlong, myboy," he said shakily, "would make your pile look sick."
"And yet I'd bet a thousand they're phony," burst from Kendric. Thenhe caught himself up short. Suppose they were or were not? A womanwas offering to play him and he was holding back; he was makingexcuses, the second already; in his own ears his words, sensible thoughthey were, began to ring like the petty talk of a hedger. "Turn outthe die, Senora," he said abruptly. "As you say, one throw and acehigh."
With her left hand she quietly shook the box, setting the white cubedancing therein. "You lose, Jim," said Monte at his elbow before thecast was made. "Look out for left-handers." Then she made her throwand turned up an ace.
Kendric caught up box and die and threw. And again he had turned thedeuce, the lowest number on the die. He heard her laugh as she drewmoney and jewels toward her. All low music, ruining a man's blood,thrilling him after that strange perturbing fashion.