# The Jungle Trail/Chapter 1
### CHAPTER I. IN THE PLAZA AT ANTIGUA.

NOW the siesta hour was at an end and the shadows lengthened on eastern sides of the buildings, and in these shadows sat sundry caballeros, some in purple and silks and others out-at-elbows, but all brave-hearted gentlemen, ready for a jest or a joust, a guzzle of wine, or the flashing look of admiration from the dark eyes of some señorita new-come from Spain.
'Twas pleasant weather for this little town of Santa Maria de Antigua del Darien, on the west coast of the Gulf of Uraba, a blue arm of the ever-sparkling Caribbean. Twas a pleasant time also, with the new governor and his following, loose of purse and free with supplies, and not exacting of labor to such an extent as the governor newly gone to Seville, his legs trembling in his boots because he knew King Ferdinand would propound queries for which he had no satisfactory answers.
Wherefore dice now rattled and men roared with laughter at each luckless cast, and the bottoms of many flagons of wine were seen quickly after those flagons had been filled. Here was a momentary joy in Antigua, frowned upon by certain caballeros who for years had followed Vasco Nunez de Balboa, and who now thought of their illustrious chief on the banks of the Rio Sabanas. where it flowed into the Great South Sea he had found, trying to build him some ships from rotten timbers that had been hauled through the jungle wilderness, to the cost of some thousands of native slaves.
These were the ones in rags, their uniforms in tatters, their metal body-casings tarnished—but their swords ever bright and easily slipped from scabbards. As they diced, they watched the gentlemen who recently had come with the governor and now flaunted their gorgeous raiment, ready to act if they saw a curling lip.
On the day when the ships arrived there had been divers combats because these gentlemen preferred to sneer at the tatters, forgetting for the time the blood flowing in the bodies the tatters clothed. And recently, because he had lost three good friends in this manner, the new governor had issued an edict anent brawling, promising all manner of evil consequences to any caballero who used his blade save for the profit of said governor and the glory of Spain.
Hence, a truce to a certain extent; yet the gentlemen of gorgeous raiment did not need force combat to demonstrate what they fondly believed to be their superiority. They paced the plaza with their noses in the air, expressing scorn for these others who had spent some years in the wilderness, and spoke among themselves in tones easily overheard of how a time away from civilization had caused some men to forget birth and breeding.
Yet always did they cease at the line of safety, for there were certain hot-headed ones who might forget the governor's edict in their anger; and the wilderness, moreover, had taught these ragged men courage and persistence and skill with a blade.
Now, one Señor Pasqual Garabito strode by arm-in-arm with a friend, depressing the hilt of his rapier with the one hand, while with the other he flicked a dainty handkerchief as he made gestures both graceful and elegant.
"’Tis the truth you speak." he said to his companion, but in a voice all near could hear. "’Tis no less than a shame to our governor that such ragamuffins be termed Spanish gentlemen. Ha! By the saints, it would be well if all them were sent with their ragged leader of a De Balboa to some far quarter from whence they'd ne'er return to plague us!"
One of the dicers arose from his place next the wall and stepped before the fastidious Garabito.
"‘Were that done, caballero," he replied, "no doubt the ragged De Balboa, as you term him, would discover yet another sea for the glory of Spain. I have yet to hear of any fair deed that will link the name of Pasqual Barabito with some famous page of history."
"Some of them, doubtless, are misfits in their own families," Garabito said, bending toward his friend and so ignoring the ragged dicer. "I take it many a proud father in Seville thanks the saints daily that an unworthy son remains across the seas."
"Caballeros, I call upon you to witness the truth of the words I spoke but yesterday." cried the other. "Did I not say that each ship from Spain fetched a worse cargo than the one before?"
"Well spoken, Rodrigo Ruiz; it is indeed true!" another dicer called.
"Of a truth, though," said this same Rodrigo Ruiz, "we fail to keep abreast the times. Here in the wilderness how can a man know the latest manner of twirling a handkerchief? 'Tis, I understand, to be done so at this day—"
He tore a tatter from his ragged garment and twirled it merrily in imitation of Pasqual Garabito's handkerchief, while the dicers roared with raucous laughter and the face of Garabito turned almost purple because of his fury. Yet he would not admit the presence of Rodrigo Ruiz on the earth.
"Could I prevail upon our worthy governor to renounce his edict," he explained to his friend, "it would be a great pleasure to teach some of these ragged ones good manners."
"A man must have knowledge before he may dispense it," observed Ruiz, to no one in particular. "Could I prevail upon our governor to remove said edict, it would be a great pleasure to rip some new garments with the point of my blade. Yet the governor will not: he must protect his friends."
"Careful, Rodrigo," another dicer warned in a low voice. "Nothing would please certain gentlemen more than to make a cry of high treason."
"I fear me for my good friend Bartolmeo Botello," Ruiz went on, his back now turned to Garabito. "He has issued certain orders, I understand, and may be forced to see them carried out, edict or no edict."
Now the face of Pasqual Garabito turned purple again, and this time he did not reply as if speaking to his friend, but grasped his companion by the arm and turned to one side, toward the shore of the gulf.
"Let us hasten, good friend, before I forget myself in my anger and disobey the governor's new regulation," he said. "This thing is not to be endured for long without action."
Ruiz roared with his companions, and as Garabito and his friend departed, he sat down again in the shadow of the wall and picked up the dice.
"What is that," one asked, "concerning Bartolmeo Botello?"
"You do not know?" Ruiz queried in surprise. "Hah! 'Twas but yesterday, and you should have seen it."
"Yesterday, caballero, I was in the midst of the wilderness seeking a native thief."
"I had forgotten. It was a royal happening. Know, then, that Bartolmeo Botello, my good friend and friend to Vasco Nunez de Balboa, arrived from the coast of the Great South Sea some ten days ago with certain reports."
"We all know that, señor."
"Allow me sufficient breath to tell this tale in my own manner. He arrived ten days ago, as I have said, a month after the last ships came from Spain: and on his first clay here this Bartolmeo—may the saints prosper his suit!—meets the sparkling eyes of Señorita Inez Malpartida—"
"Whom may the saints preserve!" an admirer interrupted.
"Did I ever see infatuation at first glance, I saw it then," Ruiz continued. "My friend Bartolmeo, being of a blood, immediately sought the señorita's father, and by some manner of means obtained an introduction to the lady. I doubt not that within two suns he had held speech with her outside the range of her duenna's ears. Ah, that Bartolmeo!"
"’Tis a fair romance, but what has it to do with this Pasqual Garabito?" the other asked.
"Softly, friend; allow me breath. This same Pasqual you have named long has been eager to claim favor of the lady, standing even in the good graces of her father. But once she had set eyes on Botello, she would have none of Garabito. Because of this Garabito urges his suit with fervor, to the distaste of the fair Inez and Bartolmeo Botello. You follow, señor?"
"Si, and for too great a distance. Come to the point of the tale, good Ruiz, has it a point!"
"It has a myriad points. My friend Bartolmeo Botello, being a caballero true, would be courteous to a rival, of a certainty, and take no undue advantage. But it transpired that he had heard three days ago of a certain dusky native maid who had listened to the smooth speech of this Pasqual Garabito. It enraged my good friend that a man who would mistreat a native maid would, at the same time, pay court to a señorita of family and breeding. Wherefore he issued him his order."
"The order, man, before I slay you!"
"’Twas yesterday at this hour that Bartolmeo Botello met this Pasqual Garabito face to face in the shadow of the church yonder. In tones that could be heard all over the plaza, he informed this Pasqual Garabito that he knew of his little indiscretions, and that such a man should not presume on his birth and name to mingle with honorable folk. Pasqual Garabito, said my good friend, was at liberty to take the air of the plaza during the night or in the early morning hours, but should not presume to allow himself to be seen by honest folk in afternoon or evening—"
"Hah! Forbade him the plaza?"
"You have guessed it! Forbade him the plaza after the siesta hour, and promised dire consequences did this Pasqual Garabito dare disobey."
"And he has disobeyed!"
"He has. Had he not, he would have been termed craven, since all Antigua heard Botello's words."
"And to follow—"
"To follow there comes a row, else I mistake my good friend," Ruiz admitted. "And a row means the disfavor of the governor, and possibly punishment no Spanish gentleman should be forced to undergo. And were my good friend Botello in the midst of a dark plot, his chances for happiness could not be more ill. For there is yet another angle to the affair."
"This is news!" half a dozen cried.
"There is another fair maid of Spain who came by the recent ship. I refer to Señorita Carlotta Bonilla. It does not become me to speak of a young lady save in terms of courtesy and respect: but I must allow I like not the look in the Señorita Bonilla's face. Too much character shines forth from her dark eyes—character of the wrong sort."
"True," another said. "I would not be her enemy."
"This same Carlotta Bonilla has set eyes upon my friend Botello. 'Tis not discourtesy to tell it, since the señorita herself openly shows the state of her affections. Yet Botello, being infatuated with Señorita Inez, cannot observe the good qualities of Señorita Carlotta. The affair is now plain to you, comrades?"
"Not as yet," one answered.
"Why Carlotta loves Bartolmeo Botello, who loves Inez, who is sought by Pasqual Garabito. Put it not past the Señorita Carlotta to join forces with this Pasqual for the purpose of keeping Bartolmeo and Inez from each other's arms. Gladly would Garabito see Botello cold in death, and gladly would this Señorita Carlotta also, did he spurn her love, which most certainly he'll do! One must be in Seville and at court to perceive romance, eh? Hah! I think it not!"
"One woman can cause trouble enough for any man. May the saints preserve the caballero who has two on his trail!" a dicer wailed. "Let us on with the game, and await the meeting of Botello with this fine Pasqual Garabito!"
Now a soft breeze came up from the gulf to stir the foliage and make more endurable the heat of the afternoon, and now the great doors of the governor's domicil were thrown open by native slaves, and more caballeros, gorgeously dressed, fared forth into the plaza, his excellency among them.
They fawned at his feet, these caballeros, for already they had discovered that here, far removed from Seville, the word of the governor carried much weight, and also they hoped to profit by their friendship with him, since there was yet gold to be torn from some of the Indian tribes.
Ladies came into the bright sunshine of the plaza, too, some on the arms of their husbands or fathers, the señoritas with their grim duennas trailing after them as a bad dream haunts a man.
The Señorita Inez Malpartida was the first of these—a dainty bit of femininity, with tiny feet twinkling beneath silken skirts and tiny hands grasping the folds of her mantilla, and black eyes that sparkled and dimples that played about a perfect chin, and black hair in a mass, a high comb glittering in the back of it. She smiled upon the caballeros, upon the servile natives, at the trees and the buildings and tine gulf—smiled upon life in the concrete with the optimism of twenty years.
Her progress across the plaza toward the church was in the nature of a procession by royalty, for men ranged themselves on either sides in rows, and bowed until they almost touched the ground, rising quickly in the hope of getting a look direct from her flashing eyes.
There is character for you," Ruiz whispered to a comrade. "Soft as silk she is, and dainty; but for the man she loved she would endure hardships. You can read it in her eyes."
Those eyes were roaming over the plaza now, in a manner, for Señorita Inez did not dare betray too much anxiety, else her father, to whose arm she clung, might notice, or her duenna observe and give rebuke at a later hour. When she failed to see the broad shoulders of Bartolmeo Botello, her pretty lips formed in a pout for an instant, but soon she was smiling again.
The governor stopped before the church to chat with a fray, and the caballeros grouped around him and others in the procession drew up. Then the governor went back to his house with a few close friends, for he had letters to write to Spain; and the ladies held court in turn, while caballeros crowded forward.
Thus it happened that Inez Malpartida and Carlotta Bonilla came face to face under the eyes of their fathers, and were forced to observe the conventionalities of good breeding, though it pained them to keep back the angry words and prevent eyes flashing hatred. Though no speech had passed between them on the subject nearest their hearts, yet, woman-wise, both understood, and they would have avoided each other.
"A beautiful day. Señorita Malpartida," Carlotta observed, just the suspicion of a sneer upon her lips.
"Rarely beautiful, I thank you, señorita," Inez replied, bending her head graciously for an instant.
"Have you seen my new bauble of gold? Señor Garabito asked permission of my father to present it me as a souvenir of this land of wilderness."
Carlotta extended a shapely arm, upon which a bracelet dangled.
"’Tis rarely pretty," Inez said, neither too much admiration nor any disparagement in her voice.
"Señor Garabito, as you know, is a wealthy caballero to whom such a bauble is as nothing," Carlotta went on. "He purchases them by the score as gifts for his friends in Spain. You are fortunate, señorita, to have such a man for adorer."
"I care not to hear praises of Señor Garabito," Inez said. "And some men are courageous enough to go into the wilderness and gather such baubles for themselves. I believe I'd prize one obtained in that way vastly more. Any with money may purchase."
Now the fathers of the two señoritas had stepped aside to discuss certain matters of local politics, and the girls were alone, for their duennas were some distance away on the steps of the church, content to remain sitting there in the shade as long as no caballero approached their charges. Thus, masks could be dropped for a moment and words spoken that might have been held back had any other been close enough to overhear.
"What you say is true," Carlotta spoke softly, yet with a hard expression in her face. "I have commissioned a caballero to gather me such a bauble with his own hands. He has promised to take it from the very person of a native cacique, even the head cacique of the great wilderness."
"Indeed?" Inez purred.
"As a mark of devotion he will do it. Mayhap it will be necessary for me to hide it from my duenna's prying eyes; yet a girl always can protect a love-token. I hope to have it soon. I believe you have met the caballero. He is one of Vasco Nunez's men, Señor Bartolmeo Botello."
"I have met him," Inez admitted, smiling faintly.
"When he protested his devotion, at a time my duenna was asleep in her chair, I asked him for a token. Then it was he promised to get me the bauble, though he suffer wounds in the getting of it. Is it not rare to be loved by such a courageous man?"
"It will take as great courage, señorita, for you to face your father confessor after that statement," Inez suggested.
"You doubt it, then?"
"So much that I term it a falsehood deliberately given," Inez replied.
Black eyes flashed into black eyes. Carlotta Bonilla bit her pretty lips an instant, then held her head high, and would have started away to rejoin her father, but the low voice of Inez Malpartida reached her ears again.
"Since you have shown me your bauble, allow me to show you mine," she purred. "You may observe it beneath my sleeve. It came from the breast of an Indian cacique, señorita, even the Great Cacique of the wilderness, and is set with gorgeous pearls."
"Indeed?"
"Señor Bartolmeo Botello gave it me. Mayhap it is the one he intended giving you, and changed his mind upon more mature reflection."
Señorita Carlotta Bonilla did turn away now and hurried to her father's side, begging him to take her straightaway to their house, walking so swiftly beside him (while he asked whether she had a sudden illness) that her duenna struggled to keep them in sight.
And Señorita Inez Malpartida, her heart singing a little song, smiled eloquently and turned to her own father, to cling to his arm and acknowledge the greetings of such caballeros as came forward, who were many.