CHAPTER IV.
"It can't be Three Pines yet," said a passenger's voice, in which thelaziness of sleep still lingered, "or else we've snoozed over fivemile. I don't see no lights; wot are we stoppin' for?" The otherpassengers struggled to an upright position. One nearest the windowopened it; its place was instantly occupied by the double muzzle of ashot-gun! No one moved. In the awestricken silence the voice of thedriver rose in drawling protestation.
"It ain't no business o' mine, but it sorter strikes me that you chapsare a-playin' it just a little too fine this time! It ain't threemiles from Three Pine Station and forty men. Of course, that's yourlookout,--not mine!"
The audacity of the thing had evidently struck even the usuallytaciturn and phlegmatic driver into his first expostulation on record.
"Your thoughtful consideration does you great credit," said a voicefrom the darkness, "and shall be properly presented to our manager; butat the same time we wish it understood that we do not hesitate to takeany risks in strict attention to our business and our clients. In themean time you will expedite matters, and give your passengers a chanceto get an early tea at Three Pines, by handing down that treasure-boxand mail-pouch. Be careful in handling that blunderbuss you keepbeside it; the last time it unfortunately went off, and I regret to sayslightly wounded one of your passengers. Accidents of this kind,interfering, as they do, with the harmony and pleasure of our chancemeetings, cannot be too highly deplored."
"By gosh!" ejaculated an outside passenger in an audible whisper.
"Thank you, sir," said the voice quietly; "but as I overlooked you, Iwill trouble you now to descend with the others."
The voice moved nearer; and, by the light of a flaming bull's-eye castupon the coach, it could be seen to come from a stout, medium-sized manwith a black mask, which, however, showed half of a smooth, beardlessface, and an affable yet satirical mouth. The speaker cleared histhroat with the slight preparatory cough of the practiced orator, and,approaching the window, to Key's intense surprise, actually began inthe identical professional and rhetorical style previously indicated bythe miner.
"Circumstances over which we have no control, gentlemen, compel us tooblige you to alight, stand in a row on one side, and hold up yourhands. You will find the attitude not unpleasant after your crampedposition in the coach, while the change from its confined air to thewholesome night-breeze of the Sierras cannot but prove salutary andrefreshing. It will also enable us to relieve you of such so-calledvaluables and treasures in the way of gold dust and coin, which Iregret to say too often are misapplied in careless hands, and which theteachings of the highest morality distinctly denominate as the root ofall evil! I need not inform you, gentlemen, as business men, thatpromptitude and celerity of compliance will insure dispatch, andshorten an interview which has been sometimes needlessly, and, I regretto say, painfully protracted."
He drew back deliberately with the same monotonous precision of habit,and disclosed the muzzles of his confederates' weapons still leveled atthe passengers. In spite of their astonishment, indignation, anddiscomfiture, his practiced effrontery and deliberate display appearedin some way to touch their humorous sense, and one or two smiledhysterically, as they rose and hesitatingly filed out of the vehicle.It is possible, however, that the leveled shot-guns contributed more orless directly to this result.
Two masks began to search the passengers under the combined focus ofthe bull's-eyes, the shining gun-barrels, and a running but stillcarefully prepared commentary from the spokesman. "It is to beregretted that business men, instead of intrusting their property tothe custody of the regularly constituted express agent, still continueto secrete it on their persons; a custom that, without enhancing itssecurity, is not only an injustice to the express company, but a greatdetriment to dispatch. We also wish to point out that while we do notas a rule interfere with the possession of articles of ordinarypersonal use or adornment, such as simple jewelry or watches, wereserve our right to restrict by confiscation the vulgarity andunmanliness of diamonds and enormous fob chains."
The act of spoliation was apparently complete, yet it was evident thatthe orator was restraining himself for a more effective climax.Clearing his throat again and stepping before the impatient but stillmystified file of passengers, he reviewed them gravely. Then in aperfectly pitched tone of mingled pain and apology, he said slowly:--
"It would seem that, from no wish of our own, we are obliged on thispresent occasion to suspend one or two of our usual rules. We are notin the habit of interfering with the wearing apparel of our esteemedclients; but in the interests of ordinary humanity we are obliged toremove the boots of the gentleman on the extreme left, which evidentlygive him great pain and impede his locomotion. We also seldom deviatefrom our rule of obliging our clients to hold up their hands duringthis examination; but we gladly make an exception in favor of thegentleman next to him, and permit him to hand us the altogether tooheavily weighted holster which presses upon his hip. Gentlemen," saidthe orator, slightly raising his voice, with a deprecating gesture,"you need not be alarmed! The indignant movement of our friend, justnow, was not to draw his revolver,--for it isn't there!" He pausedwhile his companions speedily removed the farmer's boots and theminer's holster, and with a still more apologetic air approached thecoach, where only the lady remained erect and rigid in her corner."And now," he said with simulated hesitation, "we come to the last andto us the most painful suspension of our rules. On these very rareoccasions, when we have been honored with the presence of the fair sex,it has been our invariable custom not only to leave them in theundisturbed possession of their property, but even of their privacy aswell. It is with deep regret that on this occasion we are obliged tomake an exception. For in the present instance, the lady, out of thegentleness of her heart and the politeness of her sex, has burdenedherself not only with the weight but the responsibility of a packageforced upon her by one of the passengers. We feel, and we believe,gentlemen, that most of you will agree with us, that so scandalous andunmanly an attempt to evade our rules and violate the sanctity of thelady's immunity will never be permitted. For your own sake, madam, weare compelled to ask you for the satchel under your seat. It will bereturned to you when the package is removed."
"One moment," said the professional man indignantly, "there is a manhere whom you have spared,--a man who lately joined us. Is that man,"pointing to the astonished Key, "one of your confederates?"
"That man," returned the spokesman with a laugh, "is the owner of theSylvan Hollow Mine. We have spared him because we owe him someconsideration for having been turned out of his house at the dead ofnight while the sheriff of Sierra was seeking us." He stopped, andthen in an entirely different voice, and in a totally changed manner,said roughly, "Tumble in there, all of you, quick! And you, sir" (toKey),--"I'd advise you to ride outside. Now, driver, raise so much asa rein or a whiplash until you hear the signal--and by God! you'll knowwhat next." He stepped back, and seemed to be instantly swallowed upin the darkness; but the light of a solitary bull's-eye--the holderhimself invisible--still showed the muzzles of the guns covering thedriver. There was a momentary stir of voices within the closed coach,but an angry roar of "Silence!" from the darkness hushed it.
The moments crept slowly by; all now were breathless. Then a clearwhistle rang from the distance, the light suddenly was extinguished,the leveled muzzles vanished with it, the driver's lash fellsimultaneously on the backs of his horses, and the coach leaped forward.
The jolt nearly threw Key from the top, but a moment later it was stillmore difficult to keep his seat in the headlong fury of their progress.Again and again the lash descended upon the maddened horses, until thewhole coach seemed to leap, bound, and swerve with every stroke. Criesof protest and even distress began to come from the interior, but thedriver heeded it not. A window was suddenly let down; the voice of theprofessional man saying, "What's the matter? We're not followed. Youare imperiling our lives by this speed," was answ
ered only by, "Willsome of ye throttle that d--d fool?" from the driver, and the renewedfall of the lash. The wayside trees appeared a solid plateau beforethem, opened, danced at their side, closed up again behind them,--butstill they sped along. Rushing down grades with the speed of anavalanche, they ascended again without drawing rein, and as if by sheermomentum; for the heavy vehicle now seemed to have a diabolical energyof its own. It ground scattered rocks to powder with its crushingwheels, it swayed heavily on ticklish corners, recovering itself withthe resistless forward propulsion of the straining teams, until thelights of Three Pine Station began to glitter through the trees. Thena succession of yells broke from the driver, so strong and dominantthat they seemed to outstrip even the speed of the unabated cattle.Lesser lights were presently seen running to and fro, and on theoutermost fringe of the settlement the stage pulled up before a crowdof wondering faces, and the driver spoke.
"We've been held up on the open road, by G--d, not THREE MILES fromwhar ye men are sittin' here yawpin'! If thar's a man among ye thathasn't got the soul of a skunk, he'll foller and close in upon 'embefore they have a chance to get into the brush." Having thus relievedhimself of his duty as an enforced noncombatant, and allowed allfurther responsibility to devolve upon his recreant fellow employees,he relapsed into his usual taciturnity, and drove a trifle lessrecklessly to the station, where he grimly set down his bruised anddiscomfited passengers. As Key mingled with them, he could not helpperceiving that neither the late "orator's" explanation of hisexemption from their fate, nor the driver's surly corroboration of hisrespectability, had pacified them. For a time this amused him,particularly as he could not help remembering that he first appeared tothem beside the mysterious horseman who some one thought had beenidentified as one of the masks. But he was not a little piqued to findthat the fair unknown appeared to participate in their feelings, andhis first civility to her met with a chilling response. Even then, inthe general disillusion of his romance regarding her, this would havebeen only a momentary annoyance; but it strangely revived all hisprevious suspicions, and set him to thinking. Was the singularsagacity displayed by the orator in his search purely intuitive? Couldany one have disclosed to him the secret of the passengers' hoards?Was it possible for HER while sitting alone in the coach to havecommunicated with the band? Suddenly the remembrance flashed acrosshim of her opening the window for fresh air! She could have easilythen dropped some signal. If this were so, and she really was theculprit, it was quite natural for her own safety that she shouldencourage the passengers in the absurd suspicion of himself! His dyinginterest revived; a few moments ago he had half resolved to abandon hisquest and turn back at Three Pines. Now he determined to follow her tothe end. But he did not indulge in any further sophistry regarding hisduty; yet, in a new sense of honor, he did not dream of retaliatingupon her by communicating his suspicions to his fellow passengers.When the coach started again, he took his seat on the top, and remainedthere until they reached Jamestown in the early evening. Here a numberof his despoiled companions were obliged to wait, to communicate withtheir friends. Happily, the exemption that had made them indignantenabled him to continue his journey with a full purse. But he wascontent with a modest surveillance of the lady from the top of thecoach.
On arriving at Stockton this surveillance became less easy. It was theterminus of the stage-route, and the divergence of others by boat andrail. If he were lucky enough to discover which one the lady took, hispresence now would be more marked, and might excite her suspicion. Buthere a circumstance, which he also believed to be providential,determined him. As the luggage was being removed from the top of thecoach, he overheard the agent tell the expressman to check the "lady's"trunk to San Luis. Key was seized with an idea which seemed to solvethe difficulty, although it involved a risk of losing the clueentirely. There were two routes to San Luis, one was by stage, anddirect, though slower; the other by steamboat and rail, via SanFrancisco. If he took the boat, there was less danger of herdiscovering him, even if she chose the same conveyance; if she took thedirect stage,--and he trusted to a woman's avoidance of the hurry ofchange and transshipment for that choice,--he would still arrive at SanLuis, via San Francisco, an hour before her. He resolved to take theboat; a careful scrutiny from a stateroom window of the arrivingpassengers on the gangplank satisfied him that she had preferred thestage. There was still the chance that in losing sight of her shemight escape him, but the risk seemed small. And a triflingcircumstance had almost unconsciously influenced him--after hisromantic and superstitious fashion--as to this final step.
He had been singularly moved when he heard that San Luis was the lady'sprobable destination. It did not seem to bear any relation to themountain wilderness and the wild life she had just quitted; it wasapparently the most antipathic, incongruous, and inconsistent refugeshe could have taken. It offered no opportunity for the disposal ofbooty, or for communication with the gang. It was less secure than acrowded town. An old Spanish mission and monastery college in a sleepypastoral plain,--it had even retained its old-world flavor amidstAmerican improvements and social revolution. He knew it well. Fromthe quaint college cloisters, where the only reposeful years of hisadventurous youth had been spent, to the long Alameda, or doubleavenues of ancient trees, which connected it with the convent of SantaLuisa, and some of his youthful "devotions,"--it had been the nurseryof his romance. He was amused at what seemed to be the irony of fate,in now linking it with this folly of his maturer manhood; and yet hewas uneasily conscious of being more seriously affected by it. And itwas with a greater anxiety than this adventure had ever yet cost himthat he at last arrived at the San Jose hotel, and from a balconycorner awaited the coming of the coach. His heart beat rapidly as itapproached. She was there! But at her side, as she descended from thecoach, was the mysterious horseman of the Sierra road. Key could notmistake the well-built figure, whatever doubt there had been about thefeatures, which had been so carefully concealed. With the astonishmentof this rediscovery, there flashed across him again the fatefulness ofthe inspiration which had decided him not to go in the coach. Hispresence there would have no doubt warned the stranger, and so estoppedthis convincing denouement. It was quite possible that her companion,by relays of horses and the advantage of bridle cut-offs, could haveeasily followed the Three Pine coach and joined her at Stockton. Butfor what purpose? The lady's trunk, which had not been disturbedduring the first part of the journey, and had been forwarded atStockton untouched before Key's eyes, could not have contained booty tobe disposed of in this forgotten old town.
The register of the hotel bore simply the name of "Mrs. Barker," ofStockton, but no record of her companion, who seemed to havedisappeared as mysteriously as he came. That she occupied asitting-room on the same floor as his own--in which she was apparentlysecluded during the rest of the day--was all he knew. Nobody elseseemed to know her. Key felt an odd hesitation, that might have beenthe result of some vague fear of implicating her prematurely, in makingany marked inquiry, or imperiling his secret by the bribed espionage ofservants. Once when he was passing her door he heard the sounds oflaughter,--albeit innocent and heart-free,--which seemed soinconsistent with the gravity of the situation and his own thoughtsthat he was strangely shocked. But he was still more disturbed by alater occurrence. In his watchfulness of the movements of his neighborhe had been equally careful of his own, and had not only refrained fromregistering his name, but had enjoined secrecy upon the landlord, whomhe knew. Yet the next morning after his arrival, the porter notanswering his bell promptly enough, he so far forgot himself as to walkto the staircase, which was near the lady's room, and call to theemployee over the balustrade. As he was still leaning over therailing, the faint creak of a door, and a singular magneticconsciousness of being overlooked, caused him to turn slowly, but onlyin time to hear the rustle of a withdrawing skirt as the door wasquickly closed. In an instant he felt the full force of his foolishheedlessness, but it was too late. Had the myste
rious fugitiverecognized him? Perhaps not; their eyes had not met, and his face hadbeen turned away.
He varied his espionage by subterfuges, which his knowledge of the oldtown made easy. He watched the door of the hotel, himself unseen, fromthe windows of a billiard saloon opposite, which he had frequented informer days. Yet he was surprised the same afternoon to see her, fromhis coigne of vantage, reentering the hotel, where he was sure he hadleft her a few moments ago. Had she gone out by some other exit,--orhad she been disguised? But on entering his room that evening he wasconfounded by an incident that seemed to him as convincing of heridentity as it was audacious. Lying on his pillow were a few deadleaves of an odorous mountain fern, known only to the Sierras. Theywere tied together by a narrow blue ribbon, and had evidently beenintended to attract his attention. As he took them in his hand, thedistinguishing subtle aroma of the little sylvan hollow in the hillscame to him like a memory and a revelation! He summoned thechambermaid; she knew nothing of them, or indeed of any one who hadentered his room. He walked cautiously into the hall; the lady'ssitting-room door was open, the room was empty. "The occupant," saidthe chambermaid, "had left that afternoon." He held the proof of heridentity in his hand, but she herself had vanished! That she hadrecognized him there was now no doubt: had she divined the real objectof his quest, or had she accepted it as a mere sentimental gallantry atthe moment when she knew it was hopeless, and she herself was perfectlysafe from pursuit? In either event he had been duped. He did not knowwhether to be piqued, angry,--or relieved of his irresolute quest.
Nevertheless, he spent the rest of the twilight and the early eveningin fruitlessly wandering through the one long thoroughfare of the town,until it merged into the bosky Alameda, or spacious grove, thatconnected it with Santa Luisa. By degrees his chagrin anddisappointment were forgotten in the memories of the past, evoked bythe familiar pathway. The moon was slowly riding overhead, andsilvering the carriage-way between the straight ebony lines of trees,while the footpaths were diapered with black and white checkers. Thefaint tinkling of a tram-car bell in the distance apprised him of oneof the few innovations of the past. The car was approaching him,overtook him, and was passing, with its faintly illuminated windows,when, glancing carelessly up, he beheld at one of them the profile ofthe face which he had just thought he had lost forever!
He stopped for an instant, not in indecision this time, but in a grimresolution to let no chance escape him now. The car was going slowly;it was easy to board it now, but again the tinkle of the bell indicatedthat it was stopping at the corner of a road beyond. He checked hispace,--a lady alighted,--it was she! She turned into the cross-street,darkened with the shadows of some low suburban tenement houses, and heboldly followed. He was fully determined to find out her secret, andeven, if necessary, to accost her for that purpose. He was perfectlyaware what he was doing, and all its risks and penalties; he knew theaudacity of such an introduction, but he felt in his left-hand pocketfor the sprig of fern which was an excuse for it; he knew the danger offollowing a possible confidante of desperadoes, but he felt in hisright-hand pocket for the derringer that was equal to it. They wereboth there; he was ready.
He was nearing the convent and the oldest and most ruinous part of thetown. He did not disguise from himself the gloomy significance ofthis; even in the old days the crumbling adobe buildings that abuttedon the old garden wall of the convent were the haunts of lawlessMexicans and vagabond peons. As the roadway began to be rough anduneven, and the gaunt outlines of the sagging roofs of tiles stood outagainst the sky above the lurking shadows of ruined doorways, he wasprepared for the worst. As the crumbling but still massive walls ofthe convent garden loomed ahead, the tall, graceful, black-gownedfigure he was following presently turned into the shadow of the wallitself. He quickened his pace, lest it should again escape him.Suddenly it stopped, and remained motionless. He stopped, too. At thesame moment it vanished!
He ran quickly forward to where it had stood, and found himself beforea large iron gate, with a smaller one in the centre, that had justclanged to on its rusty hinges. He rubbed his eyes!--the place, thegate, the wall, were all strangely familiar! Then he stepped back intothe roadway, and looked at it again. He was not mistaken.
He was standing before the porter's lodge of the Convent of the SacredHeart.