CHAPTER XXIV
IN THE CAMP OF THE HILLSMEN
Evelyn instinctively drew back a few paces. Through her brain wasbeating insistently the admonition that had helped her much in the pastfew days:
"_Keep calm! Don't let him think you are afraid!_"
Her first thought had been flight, to the village; but reason told herthat was impossible. Here alone on the silent hillside, in the earlynight, a white woman with this strange Indian, there came over her againa pride in her American blood. She felt that she was a match for him, inwits if not in strength. And with the thought came courage.
She pointed to the mule, then to herself, then to the village; andexplained in Spanish.
The Indian shook his head, and stood stolidly beside his mount. Afterhis first exclamations he had remained silent, watching Evelyn intently;but she felt reassured when he made no move to approach her. As a matterof fact, his mind at that moment was a chaos of conjectures andpossibilities; and while he hesitated Evelyn gasped with relief. Downthe road, carrying distinctly over the night air, came the sound offurious riding--faint at first and then growing nearer, quickly nearer.Even if it were not the peon, at least two strangers would be safer thanone.
With a guttural grunt that might have meant anything, the Indian jumpedupon his mule and started off toward the village, urging the animalalong; and Evelyn stepped farther back into the shadow of the cacti. Shefelt that she had reached the breaking-point. Yet she must nerve herselfthis once more, for without her guide she could not go on.
The hoof-beats drew near; in a minute they would pass and the rider beswallowed up in the gloom beyond. Evelyn opened her mouth and tried tocall to him; but her voice failed her. Her worn-out body and herovertaxed nerves were holding her powerless to move or cry. She couldonly stand, helpless, and watch him sweep past.
But the peon's keen eyes had caught sight of the white dress flutteringagainst the dark outline of the cacti, and even as he passed he reinedin his mule. A few moments later he was beside her, holding his batteredhat in his hand.
"Your servant, senorita," he said courteously.
Evelyn never could remember distinctly what happened after that. She hadonly a hazy recollection of climbing upon the mule and trying to clingthere, while the man trotted beside her carrying a long, iron-pointedstaff. Somewhere near the village they had turned off the main road andfollowed a rough path that led up into the hills. And there they hadstopped at a small _hacienda_, where Evelyn was hospitably received.
When she woke the next morning, in a clean little adobe room, and founda neat-looking Spanish woman smiling upon her, Evelyn smiled in return.Every muscle in her body ached, and the soles of her feet wereblistered, but, for the first time in many days, she felt a sense ofperfect security. Still smiling, she murmured the password of therevolutionaries. It meant much to her now.
"_Confianza!_"
* * * * *
They had a hasty breakfast and started again, but rested for some timein a belt of forest during the heat of the day. In the early eveningthey approached a white _aldea_ perched high upon the edge of a ravine.Evelyn's guide made her understand that they might not be allowed topass. He implied that she was in no danger, but it was with some anxietythat she rode toward the village.
They skirted the side of the ravine, which was fretted with tumblingcataracts. Steep rocks ran up from the edge of the trail and were lostin climbing forest a hundred feet above, but after a time the chasmbegan to widen, and small, square houses straggled about its slopes. Abarricade of logs, however, closed the road, and as Evelyn approachedtwo men stepped out from behind it. They were ragged and unkempt, butthey carried good modern rifles.
"Halt!" ordered one of them.
"_Confianza!_" the guide answered, smiling, and they let him pass.
Beyond the barricade, the guide stopped in front of an adobe buildingthat seemed to be an inn, for a number of saddled mules were tied aroundit. Men were entering and leaving and a hum of voices came from theshadowy interior, but the peon motioned to Evelyn that she must get downand wait. Finding a stone bench where she was left undisturbed, she satthere for half an hour while it grew dark, and then a man came up andbeckoned her to enter. She went with some misgivings, and was shown intoa room with rough mud walls, where a man sat under a smoky lamp at atable upon which a map and a number of papers were spread. He woreplain, white clothes, with a wide red sash; and two others, dressed inthe same way, stood near, as if awaiting his orders. Evelyn knew theman, for she had seen him at the International.
"_Confianza!_" she said. "I believe you are Don Martin Sarmiento."
He gave her a quick glance, and answered in good English:
"It is a surprise to receive a visit from Miss Cliffe. But I must askwho gave you the password?"
"Senora Garcia at Rio Frio."
"That sounds strange. But sit down. There is something we must talkabout."
He waited until one of the men brought her a chair.
"I understand you were going to Villa Paz," he then said.
"Yes; I am anxious to join my father."
"I am not sure that will be possible; but we will speak of it again.First of all, I must know why you left Valverde." Sarmiento indicatedthe others. "These are officers of mine, but they do not speak English,and it is not necessary that you should know their names. You havenothing to fear from us, but I must urge you to be frank."
Evelyn tried to think calmly. She was in the man's power, and he worethe stamp of command, but she liked his look and did not feel afraid ofhim. It might be wiser to be candid; but she had an embarrassing storyto tell and she began with some hesitation. Sarmiento helped her, nowwith a nod of comprehension as she slurred over an awkward passage, andnow with a look of sympathy, while the others stood silent withexpressionless faces.
"Gomez is, of course, a scoundrel, and you were wise to run away," hecommented when she stopped. "There are, however, matters I do not quiteunderstand. For example, it would not be to the President's interestthat he should quarrel with your father; nor do I think Altiera wouldapprove of an alliance between his secretary and you."
Evelyn blushed and tried to meet the man's searching look.
"I cannot explain these things. I have told you what happened, and Icame to you with--confidence."
Sarmiento bowed.
"We respect our password. You are safe with us; but you cannot continueyour journey. The roads will be closed before you get through, and therewill be fighting in the next few days. When it seems less dangerous, wemust try to send you on, but in the meantime I must put you into mydaughter's hands."
He gave one of the officers some instructions, and the man beckonedEvelyn, but she hesitated.
"I must pay my guide and send him back."
"We will give him the money, but he will not go back. We shall, nodoubt, find a use for him." Sarmiento smiled meaningly as he added: "Itlooks as if he could be trusted."
Evelyn followed the officer to the back of the house where creeperstrailed about a rude pergola. A sheet of cotton had been stretched amongthe poles, making a tent in which a light burned. Her companion, sayinga few words in Castilian, motioned to Evelyn to go in. She did so, andthen stopped abruptly.
The lamp was small and the light was dim; loops of vines falling aboutit cast puzzling shadows, but Evelyn knew the girl who rose to meet her.She had seen her talking confidentially to Grahame at the International,and was seized by jealous suspicion. A stout, elderly lady in a blackdress, who was apparently the girl's duenna, sat farther back in theshadow. Blanca gave Evelyn a friendly smile of recognition, but it costher an effort to respond. The Spanish girl seemed to understand thatsomething was wrong, and there was an awkward silence while they stoodwith their eyes fixed on each other. Then Blanca said with a touch ofhaughtiness:
"I have been told to make you as comfortable as possible, but I am sorrythere is not much comfort here. One cannot expect it in a camp."
She
presented Evelyn to her duenna, and the senora Morales indicated afolding chair.
"You come at a bad time," she remarked in awkward French, languidlyopening a fan. "It seems we are to have more fighting; it is the way ofmen."
"They must fight," said Blanca. "The cause is good."
The senora Morales waved her fan. She wore a black silk mantillafastened tightly round her head like a cowl, and her dark, fleshy facewas thickly smeared with powder. Her eyes were lazily contemptuous.
"There are two causes, _nina_, and it is hard to see how both can beright. But, since men quarrel about them, it is not impossible that bothmay be wrong."
Evelyn smiled. The duenna's remarks saved the situation from becomingstrained; the woman was obviously shrewd in spite of her heavy face.
"They are always quarreling in this country," the senora continued."Those who will not pay their taxes call themselves Liberators; thosewho expect favors from the President are Patriots. If he does not givethem enough, they conspire with the others to turn him out. Sinceeverybody cannot be satisfied, there is always trouble."
"But our friends are not fighting for rewards!" Blanca objectedindignantly.
"A few are disinterested," the senora conceded. She paused, and turnedto Evelyn with an authoritative air. "You must tell me why you ran awayfrom Rio Frio. I can guess something, but want to know the rest."
After a moment's hesitation, Evelyn thought it prudent to comply, andthe senora seemed to listen with sympathy.
"To run away was the simplest plan, but sometimes the simplest plan isnot the best," she said. "Did you think of nothing else?"
"I sent a message to Mr. Grahame of the _Enchantress_, telling him I wasin difficulties," Evelyn replied, watching Blanca.
The girl looked up with quick interest, but there was no hint ofjealousy in her expression.
"You thought he would come to help you?"
"I knew he would come if it was possible," Evelyn answered.
Blanca looked her in the face with a smile of understanding, and Evelynsaw that her suspicions had been unfounded. Grahame was nothing to thegirl.
"My father must know this at once!" she said, and hurried away.
Don Martin came back with her and questioned Evelyn, and then he stoodthoughtfully silent for some moments.
"It is fortunate I heard this news," he said. "Your message may beintercepted, and we must try to warn Grahame that you are in our hands."He gave Evelyn a steady look. "I believe he will be satisfied withthat."
"You can tell him that I feel safe," Evelyn answered.
Don Martin left her with a bow, and shortly afterward they heardsomebody riding hard along the edge of the ravine. When the beat ofhoofs died away Blanca touched Evelyn's arm.
"There will be some supper after a while, but let us walk a little wayup the path."
They went out into the dark, passing slowly between shadowy rows ofbushes which Evelyn thought were young coffee plants. She waited,believing that her companion meant to take her into her confidence.
"You were rash in sending for Mr. Grahame," Blanca began. "We must hopeour messenger arrives in time to stop him, but for all that----"
"Do you wish him to come?" Evelyn asked.
Blanca smiled.
"In a sense, it does not matter to me whether he comes or not, though Iwould not wish him to run into danger. But he would not come alone."
Evelyn started. It was not Grahame, but Walthew, in whom Blanca wasinterested. Somehow she had not thought of that.
"Of course, you met Mr. Walthew in Havana," she said.
"And at Rio Frio!" There was a hint of triumphant coquetry and somethingdeeper in Blanca's voice. "Indeed, Mr. Grahame should be grateful to me,because it was I who kept him his companion. Mr. Walthew had beendangerously ill, and was thinking of going home--though of course he didnot tell me this----"
"But if he did not tell you!"
"How did I know?" Blanca laughed. "_Carina mia_, how do we know suchthings? Is a man's face a mask? Have we no guide except what he says?"
Evelyn thought of Carmen, for Blanca had something of the greatcoquette's allurement and power. It was not an unconscious attractionshe exercised, but the skill with which it was directed was primitiveand instinctive rather than intelligent.
"And you persuaded Mr. Walthew to stay!" she said. "Did you find ithard?"
"Hard? Oh, no! It is not hard to persuade a young man, unless one is afool. A word or two is enough, and I told him he might become a great_libertador_ like Bolivar and Garibaldi."
Evelyn laughed. She liked Walthew, but he was a very modern American,and the thought of his emulating Garibaldi tickled her. Then, althoughit was dark, she was aware of a change in her companion's mood. Blanca'spose was different, it had somehow hardened, and her head was liftedhigh.
"You find this amusing?" she asked in a haughty tone.
"I suppose I do, in a way," Evelyn admitted deprecatingly. "You see, Iknow my countrymen, and we're not romantic, as a rule."
"Then it is clear you do not know Mr. Walthew. He is young, but he hasthe spirit of these others, the great _libertadores_."
"I've no doubt that's true," Evelyn agreed, putting her hand on Blanca'sarm. "Indeed, I like and admire him very much."
They turned back to the house presently, on friendly terms, for theSpaniard's anger flares up quickly but soon burns down. Evelyn, however,saw that matters had gone farther than she thought, and she imaginedthat Walthew would have some trouble with his relatives when he wenthome.
"But how did you and your father come to meet Mr. Walthew, and what isthe _Enchantress_ doing on the coast?" she asked.
"You do not know?" There was a hint of gratified superiority in thegirl's tone. "She is bringing us the rifles that we need."
Evelyn asked no more questions, because her talk with Blanca had givenher much to think about, and when supper was over she sat outside thetent alone. The moon was rising above the tall sierra that ran in arugged line across the sky. The air was warm and still, and she couldhear water splashing down in the bottom of the ravine. Now and thenthere was a clatter of hoofs as a messenger rode up, and sometimes anorder was followed by a patter of feet. Then for a time everything wassilent except for a murmur of voices in the inn.
The girl noticed this vacantly, for her mind was busy, and she wasfilled with a strange excitement. For the last week or two she had bornea heavy strain, and her thoughts had been concentrated on finding ameans of escape. Now they were free to dwell upon a greater matter. Thestruggle that began when she boarded the _Enchantress_ was ended, andshe could rejoice in her own defeat, as she had not been quite able todo when, on first surrendering, she had written her note at Rio Frio.Prudence, ambition, and self-interest were driven from the field; lovehad utterly routed them. She loved Grahame, and she knew that he lovedher, though he had not avowed it yet. Blanca had spoken truly: wordswere not needed: it was easy to read a man's heart.
Evelyn knew what he thought. He was a poor adventurer, and she was rich.She blushed with shame, remembering how this had once weighed with her.Now it did not matter at all. Nothing mattered except that he belongedto her; but while this had never been so plain, it had not dawned on herwith a sudden flash. The light had been steadily creeping in for a longtime, while she stubbornly tried to shut it out, until she abandoned herfutile efforts and let the warming brightness flood her.
Then she thought of Grahame's danger. Don Martin had not received thenote. Suppose it had fallen into Gomez's hands. What use might not thathalf-breed make of it!
Evelyn shuddered, and breathed a half-conscious prayer that Don Martin'smessenger might reach her lover in time.