Hearts of Three 27

Hearts of Three 27

“What say you?” the Blind Brigand asked solemnly. “What say you, peon of

the many beatings, man new-born this day, half-Maya that you are and

lover of the woman wonderful? Shall this man die the dog’s death for

want of a ransom?”

 

“This man is a hard man,” spoke the peon. “Yet is my heart strangely

soft this day. Had I ten thousand gold I would pay his ransom myself.

Yea, O Holy One and Just, and had I two hundred and fifty pesos, even

would I pay off my debt to the haciendado of which I am absolved.”

 

The old man’s blind face lighted up to transfiguration.

 

“You, too, speak with God’s voice this day, regenerate one,” he

approved.

 

But Francis, who had been scribbling hurriedly in his check book, handed

a check, still wet with the ink, to the mestiza.

 

“I, too, speak,” he said. “Let not the man die the dog’s death he

deserves, proven treacherous hound that he is.”

 

The mestiza read the check aloud.

 

“It is not necessary to explain,” the Blind Brigand shut Francis off. “I

am a creature of reason, and have not lived always in the Cordilleras. I

was trained in business in Barcelona. I know the Chemical National Bank

of New York, and through my agents have had dealings with it aforetime.

The sum is for ten thousand dollars gold. This man who writes it has

told the truth already this day. The check is good. Further, I know he

will not stop payment. This man who thus pays the ransom of a foe is one

of three things: a very good man; a fool; or a very rich man. Tell me, O

Man, is there a woman wonderful?”

 

And Francis, not daring to glance to right or left, at Leoncia or Henry,

but gazing straight before him on the Blind Brigand’s face, answered

because he felt he must so answer:

 

“Yes, O Cruel Just One, there is a woman wonderful.”

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XII

 

 

At the precise spot where they had been first blindfolded by the

sackcloth men, the cavalcade halted. It was composed of a number of the

sackcloth men; of Leoncia, Henry, and Francis, blindfolded and mounted

on mules; and of the peon, blindfolded and on foot. Similarly escorted,

the haciendados, and the Jefe and Torres with their gendarmes, had

preceded by half an hour.

 

At permission given by the stern-faced leader, the captives, about to be

released, removed their blindfolds.

 

“Seems I’ve been here before,” Henry laughed, looking about and

identifying the place.

 

“Seems the oil-wells are still burning,” Francis said, pointing out half

the field of day that was eaten up by the black smoke-pall. “Peon, look

upon your handiwork. For a man who possesses nothing, you are the

biggest spender I ever met. I have heard of drunken oil-kings lighting

cigars with thousand dollar bank-notes, but here are you burning up a

million dollars a minute.”

 

“I am not a poor man,” the peon boasted in proud mysteriousness.

 

“A millionaire in disguise!” Henry twitted.

 

“Where do you deposit?” was Leoncia’s contribution. “In the Chemical

National Bank?”

 

The peon did not understand the allusions, but knew that he was being

made fun of, and drew himself up in proud silence.

 

The stern leader spoke:

 

“From this point you may now go your various ways. The Just One has so

commanded. You, senors, will dismount and turn over to me your mules. As

for the senorita, she may retain her mule as a present from the Just

One, who would not care to be responsible for compelling any senorita to

walk. The two senors, without hardship, may walk. Especially has the

Just One recommended walking for the rich senor. The possession of

riches, he advised, leads to too little walking. Too little walking

leads to stoutness; and stoutness does not lead to the woman wonderful.

Such is the wisdom of the Just One.”

 

“Further, he has repeated his advice to the peon to remain in the

mountains. In the mountains he will find his woman wonderful, since

woman he must have; and it is wisest that such woman be of his own

breed. The woman of the tierra caliente are for the men of the tierra

caliente. The Cordilleras women are for the Cordilleras men. God

dislikes mixed breeds. A mule is abhorrent under the sun. The world was

not intended for mixed breeds, but man has made for himself many

inventions. Pure races interbred leads to impurity. Neither will oil nor

water congenially intermingle. Since kind begets kind, only kind should

mate. Such are the words of the Just One which I have repeated as

commanded. And he has especially impressed upon me to add that he knows

whereof he speaks, for he, too, has sinned in just such ways.”

 

And Henry and Francis, of Anglo-Saxon stock, and Leoncia of the Latin,

knew perturbation and embarrassment as the vicarious judgment of the

Blind Brigand sank home. And Leoncia, with her splendid eyes of woman,

would have appealed protest to either man she loved, had the other been

absent; while both Henry and Francis would have voiced protest to

Leoncia had either of them been alone with her. And yet, under it all,

deep down, uncannily, was a sense of the correctness of the Blind

Brigand’s thought. And heavily, on the heart of each, rested the burden

of the conscious oppression of sin.

 

A crashing and scrambling in the brush diverted their train of thought,

as descending the canyon slope on desperately slipping and sliding

horses, appeared on the scene the haciendado with several followers. His

greeting of the daughter of the Solanos was hidalgo-like and profound,

and only less was the heartiness of his greeting to the two men for whom

Enrico Solano had stood sponsor.

 

“Where is your noble father?” he asked Leoncia. “I have good news for

him. In the week since I last saw you, I have been sick with fever and

encamped. But by swift messengers, and favoring winds across Chiriqui

Lagoon to Bocas del Toro, I have used the government wireless—the Jefe

of Bocas del Toro is my friend—and have communicated with the President

of Panama—who is my ancient comrade whose nose I rubbed as often in the

dirt as did he mine in the boyhood days when we were schoolmates and

cubicle-mates together at Colon. And the word has come back that all is

well; that justice has miscarried in the court at San Antonio from the

too great but none the less worthy zeal of the Jefe Politico; and that

all is forgiven, pardoned, and forever legally and politically forgotten

against all of the noble Solano family and their two noble Gringo

friends——”

 

Here, the haciendado bowed low to Henry and Francis. And here, skulking

behind Leoncia’s uncle, his eyes chanced to light on the peon; and, so

lighting, his eyes blazed with triumph.

 

“Mother of God, thou has not forgotten me!” he breathed fervently, then

turned to the several friends who accompanied him. “There he is, the

creature without reason or shame who has fled his debt of me. Seize him!

I shall put him on his back for a month from the beating he shall

receive!”

 

So speaking, the haciendado sprang around the rump of Leoncia’s mule;

and the peon, ducking under the mule’s nose, would have won to the

freedom of the jungle, had not another of the haciendados, with quick

spurs to his horse’s sides, cut him off and run him down. In a trice,

used to just such work, the haciendados had the luckless wight on his

feet, his hands tied behind him, a lead-rope made fast around his neck.

 

In one voice Francis and Henry protested.

 

“Senors,” the haciendado replied, “my respect and consideration and

desire to serve you are as deep as for the noble Solano family under

whose protection you are. Your safety and comfort are sacred to me. I

will defend you from harm with my life. I am yours to command. My

hacienda is yours, likewise all I possess. But this matter of this peon

is entirely another matter. He is none of yours. He is _my_ peon, in

_my_ debt, who has run away from _my_ hacienda. You will understand and

forgive me, I trust. This is a mere matter of property. He is _my_

property.”

 

Henry and Francis glanced at each other in mutual perplexity and

indecision. It was the law of the land, as they thoroughly knew.

 

“The Cruel Just One did remit my debt, as all here will witness,” the

peon whispered.

 

“It is true, the Cruel Justice remitted his debt,” Leoncia verified.

 

The haciendado smiled and bowed low.

 

“But the peon contracted with me,” he smiled. “And who is the Blind

Brigand that his foolish law shall operate on my plantation and rob me

of my rightful two hundred and fifty pesos?”

 

“He’s right, Leoncia,” Henry admitted.

 

“Then will I go back to the high Cordilleras,” the peon asserted. “Oh,

you men of the Cruel Just One, take me back to the Cordilleras.”

 

But the stern leader shook his head.

 

“Here you were released. Our orders went no further. No further

jurisdiction have we over you. We shall now bid farewell and depart.”

 

“Hold on!” Francis cried, pulling out his check book and beginning to

write. “Wait a moment. I must settle for this peon now. Next, before you

depart, I have a favor to ask of you.”

 

He passed the check to the haciendado, saying:

 

“I have allowed ten pesos for the exchange.”

 

The haciendado glanced at the check, folded it away in his pocket, and

placed the end of the rope around the wretched creature’s neck in

Francis’ hand.

 

“The peon is now yours,” he said.

 

Francis looked at the rope and laughed.

 

“Behold! I now own a human chattel. Slave, you are mine, my property now, do you understand?”