# South, West and North/Part 2/Chapter 5

Adventure magazine, 30 Oct 1924, pp. 46-49
TOO slow to waken to his danger, Hampton perceived that he was surrounded beyond hope of escape. There was no local ill-feeling against Americans, for Panama was too far from Mexico to share in the hatred engendered by the late war; but the brown soldiers took no chances in dealing with their brawny transients, and the steadiness of the rifles around him apprized Hampton that he could not attempt to break clear.
“It is he, señor capitan!” cried the peon to the officer, pointing to Hampton. “That is the gringo, the very one! It was he who robbed and murdered my brother, coming from Chagres! Warn your men to be careful, for he is a very —— in strength and alertness——”
The officer, planting himself before Hampton, lifted his sword.
“Señor, it is my duty to arrest you,” he exclaimed dramatically. “Do not force my brave soldiers to use their weapons——”
Hampton caught at a desperate chance. It was still possible that this spy had been too busy seeking for him to communicate with Doña Hermana—if this were so, then he had a chance to get clear.
“Señor capitan,” he said gravely, with a bow, “I fear there is some mistake, since I am no gringo but a Basque gentleman, and have done nothing which might cause my arrest.”
The officer bowed in return.
“Señor Basque, I am desolated, but duty is the master of all men. This worthy señor, well known to me, accuses you of having slain and robbed his brother. There is no doubt of your innocence, of course, but at the same time the accusation must be brought before the Jefe——”
“If you will withdraw your brave soldiers, señor capitan,” said Hampton, “and allow me a moment private converstation with this señor, who is evidently a gentleman of the gente fina, I will speedily convince him that he has mistaken me for another man.”
The officer turned to the scowling peon, who, hand on knife, was obviously puzzled by Hampton's calm acceptance of the situation. A word passed, then the officer assented.
“Very well, Señor Basque, but I implore you not to draw upon yourself the deadly fire of my men.”
The white-clad, barefoot soldiers withdrew in a wide semi-circle. The peon took a step forward, his eyes probing Hampton with a sneer.
“Well, gringo?” he demanded. “You think I can be mistaken, eh? You need not attempt to bribe me—you know whom I serve.”
“Fool!” said Hampton quietly. “Bobo that you are! Why have you not reported this affair to Doña Hermana? Now look at this token, and beware what you do!”
He handed the peon the little bone slab bearing the two characters. The peon held it to the light streaming from the hotel windows, and uttered a sudden gasp. His manner completely altered.
“Señor!” he exclaimed, passing it back to Hampton. “Señor—how was I to know? You answered the description, and those gringos told me your name—ay di mi! We have searched the hotel here for you—they said you were lodged here. Pardon this error, señor; I kiss your hands and feet——”
Stammering incoherent apologies, the peon turned to the officer and with many appeals to the saints deplored the error that he had committed. He then appeased the officer's disgust with a few coins, and in two minutes the soldiers were marching away.
“Señor,” said the peon humbly, “I did not know that Señor Dias had sent——”
Hampton was not slow to take a chance, if he might thus get rid of the man.
“Has anything been discovered of that Indian?” he demanded.
“You mean, señor, the hombre called El Hambre? No, but I have hopes——”
“Then you will find him at Gorgona. Get out of the city, and reach Gorgona before dawn if possible—he will be there, unsuspecting. When you return, report this matter to Doña Hermana at once. You are not to arrest El Hambre, but have him put out of the way.”
“Si, si, those are the orders, señor,” exclaimed the other eagerly. “I can get out of the city and procure a good mule—si, it shall be done! Have you no other commands?”
“None,” said Hampton, “except to make haste.”
“This moment. Va usted con Dios, señor amo!”
“Hasta luego,” returned Hampton indifferently, and passed into the hotel.
That last farewell, couched in the phrase used only by men of Indian blood, told him that the peon regarded him as a superior; still, since the spy supposed him to be stopping in the hotel, it was as well to carry on the game. Hampton stood talking for a few minutes with a group of New York men, then, convinced that the spy had departed, he left the place, crossed the plaza, and made all haste toward the Inn of the Golden Pomegranates.
As he entered, old d'Aquila beckoned him into a corner.
“Señor, your friend has returned, and three other men are now in the room with him. My brother's son is here, but in hiding.”
“Send him to the room at once, then,” said Hampton. “It is quite safe.”
He went on to the room, where he found Job Warlock, with Adam Johnson and two other men of the Beverly company. These three were vastly different from the emaciated skeletons of the afternoon; fed and clothed, shaved and cleaned, they were more like themselves, and they wrung Hampton's hand with fervent expressions of gratitude.
“And, Dick, here's a little present from all of us,” said Adam Johnson, holding up a rifle. “It's one of the best we could find in town—we want you to know how we feel about everything; we're all mighty sorry for the past, Dick, and we'd like you to have this rifle as a sort of testimonial from the whole company, or what's left of it. We didn't have time to get it engraved, but it's said to be a fine weapon——”
Hampton examined the silver-mounted rifle, a fine specimen of English workmanship, and accepted it without demur, more than grateful for the feelings which inspired the gift. At this moment the door opened, and El Hambre stepped into the room with a grave salutation.
When Hampton had introduced the Indian, he proceeded straight to business. El Hambre produced the knife with the silver hilt, which Adam Johnson and the other two men at once recognized, and related how on two occasions he had seen it in the possession of Dias. He also told something of what he knew about Dias.
“Now, gentlemen,” said Hampton, “it might be easy to think that I had inspired this testimony; but taking it along with what you already know of Day——”
“Nonsense, Mr. Hampton!” one of the other men broke in warmly. “We've l'arned enough about that skunk Day, you'd better believe—lord knows what he's done to the rest of the company! So it was him killed poor Jed Barnes, eh?”
“It was,” said Hampton. “Because he was afraid of me—he had learned that I was after him—he had me set adrift. I didn't know he was my man, you see. Had a letter from my brother Eli about a chap named Winslow or Dias, and like a fool I blurted it out to James Day, who was the very man. Well, there you are! It's evident enough to me that he slipped into Jed Barnes' cabin——”
“Say no more, sir,” exclaimed Adam Johnson, who knew enough Spanish to have followed the testimony of El Hambre. “We shall take upon ourselves to clear your name at home, be sure of that. Some of us are going home, a few of us are going to California. If you suspect that Miss Barnes and the officers of the company will meet foul play at the hands of Day, we shall be glad to follow you——”
“You can't do it, Johnson,” said Hampton. “Thanks for the offer, but it's impossible. Three of us can get through where more would fail. I expect to be out of Panama by daybreak, but don't breathe it to a soul. Day has men here, and I only avoided arrest tonight by a bit of luck—they're after me. If you'll clear up this murder charge at home, I'll feel amply repaid for the little I've done.”
“Depend on us for that,” said Johnson, and presently got his two companions away.
Left alone, the three men regarded one another, then Job Warlock grinned.
“What's this about arrest, matey?”
Hampton produced the bone tablet and handed it to El Hambre. The Indian started, and his dark eyes swept up in tacit questioning.
“The lady saved us after all, Job,” said Hampton, and proceeded to tell El Hambre of their meeting with Doña Hermana and its aftermath. The eyes of the Indian glittered savagely.
“If I had known this!” he murmured, and fingered the silver haft of the knife.
“None of that,” commanded Hampton curtly. “We have all we can do to get out of here alive,” and he went on to describe his experiences with the spy. “If that peon goes to Gorgona and does not return until tomorrow night, at earliest,” he concluded, “we'll get away safely. Now, Job, what about the guns?”
“Got 'em,” said Warlock laconically, and pointed to a heap of impedimenta on the bed. “Two good guns—one's just the kind I like. A mess o' cartridges, extra bullets, two extra horns of powder, plenty o' caps. But we'd better have a pow-wow with the Injun first of all—he ain't informed about our plans yet.”
He fell into consultation with El Hambre, while Hampton examined the weapons, and listened to what was said. When he was fully informed as to the situation, the lean and cadaverous Indian squatted on the floor and began to smoke calmly; then, after deliberation, delivered his opinion:
“Señores, if you were not here, if another and better errand did not lie ahead of us, then I should remain here and try to get my knife into Doña Hermana. I am sorry that you saved her from those bandits; they did not know who she was, evidently.”
The stark thirst of the man for vengeance, the deadly hatred of Dias which filled his entire being, impressed itself anew upon Hampton. Despite the Indian's intelligence and courtly Spanish veneer, his blood ran far back; close to the surface, there was in his veins a barbaric and terrible strain of ferocity, the more frightful because of the man's grimly cool poise. As when he had calmly driven his knife into that Chinaman, he seemed to lack all emotion save the driving impulse for blood. Perhaps, indeed, all other emotion had been washed out of him by tears.
“Your plans are good, señores,” he went on, and now with an assertion of somber pride. “I shall go as your servant, because in the eyes of those Mexicans I am an Indio. Still, I do not desire to go as your guest, señores. I have many friends in the mountains, and if I need gold they bring it to me. I know that passage on this ship costs gold, so here is my share.”
With this, he produced a pouch of raw-hide, which he tossed out on the floor. Warlock picked it up, slit the binding thongs and with an oath of astonishment exposed to view a mass of yellow dust and small nuggets. Hampton attempted to expostulate, but was reduced to silence by the grave manner of El Hambre; he was brought to the realization that they had gained for their quest an ally, not a mere obeyer of orders, and he accepted the situation.
“This is as it should be,” he said quietly, motioning Warlock to put away the gold. “You saw these men give me a rifle, El Hambre,” and he touched the silver-mounted weapon. “Now, I am not a hunter, but a sailor; to me, one gun is as good as another. With you it is different. Therefore I'll turn over to you this rifle and its accoutrements. They're yours.”
That reached the Indian blood. The dark eyes of El Hambre glittered and flamed, and a guttural word broke from him as he took the rifle and examined it.
“Don Ricardo, I kiss your hands,” he said simply.
At this moment there came a knock at the door, and it opened to disclose the wrinkled, anxious features of old d'Aquila He came in and spoke rapidly, softly.
“Señores! There is a man here who desires speech with you—he spoke of you as two Basque señores, ricos hombres—and he is one of those accursed Mexicans. He says that his name is Manuelo Garcia——”
“My schooner cap'n!” exclaimed Job Warlock.
“And,” went on the old mestizo, “he seems to be in great trouble and a tremendous rage, for he is between tears and oaths. He is alone.”
“Send him in, señor,” said Hampton. “Guns under the bed, Job!”
In a trice the martial array was thrust out of sight, and when the host returned with the visitor, El Hambre was standing respectfully in one corner. Job Warlock greeted the skipper with great ceremony, and presented him to Hampton; he was a swart, vigorous, scowling Mexican of middle age. When he was seated and smoking, he burst into a flood of speech. One of his seamen had just reached him, at the monte table, bearing bad news. Half a dozen soldiers had gone aboard his schooner, searching her for two men supposed to be escaping from justice, and had remained aboard to postpone his sailing indefinitely.
“With them, señores,” he concluded dramatically, “there was a man, apparently but a humble peon, who directed the search; and now my beautiful ship will be confiscated or detained, just when I had arranged to smuggle a fine cargo! Que lâstima, that I should ever have come to this accursed Panama! I hastened to you, señores. There is no doubt that your enemies, those pigs of North America, have suspected your departure——”
Hampton met a glance from Job Warlock which was eloquent, and stood for a moment stupefied by this astounding intelligence. There was no need for speech; to both of them, the event was only too clear. Instead of clearing out from Gorgona at once, the spy of Dias had hurried first to Doña Hermana—and now the lady was at work.
“What have I suffered from these —— gringos!” went on Captain Garcia, with a sigh and an oath. “In Mexico, they ruined me during the war, and my brother was killed at Buena Vista; even now, I cannot escape from them. Give me your advice, noble señores, for they are your enemies no less than mine.”
Warlock was quick to assume his part.
“Beyond a doubt, señor,” he made answer, “the Americanos suspect that we may leave aboard your ship. Perhaps we have been betrayed to them—who knows? None of them came aboard?”
“None but that peon, who must have been a spy. He has remained aboard with an officer and four soldiers.”
El Hambre stirred slightly. His cadaverous and scarred visage, thrust forward, showed a malignant and wolfish expression. Garcia, glancing at him, crossed himself hurriedly
“Señores,” said the Indian, “let me go aboard with the señor capitan.”
Warlock and Hampton exchanged a look.
“Wait!” said Hampton. “You are going aboard now, señor capitan?”
Garcia shrugged. “But yes, señor don; it may be that they await to arrest or question me—quién sabe?”
“And how many men aboard?”
Garcia shrugged.
“Dios sabe! I had six, but three were ashore for the evening. Three men, then, if they have not run away. They are good men, brave caballeros of Soñora.”
“And when could you sail, if free to go?”
The skipper looked again at this tall, fair-bearded man who had so swiftly taken the situation in hand.
“Señor don, in half an hour the tide is on the turn. Ah, you brave Basque adventurers! I see what is in your mind. However, it is quite useless. The moon is rising already, and the batteries would stop us if we fled.”
Hampton laughed.
“The batteries? Bah! If such a man as you were in command of them, yes! But you know what these soldiers of New Granada are, my noble captain; before they could waken to the emergency, we'd be gone—and could they hit us, in any event? Not except by grace of the saints.”
“Verdederamente,” said the Mexican reflectively, and threw out his chest. “It is true, señor don, that they are not soldiers such as we have in Mexico.”
“But, on the other hand, if you slipped away, how could you return here? Perhaps it is better for you not to embroil yourself with the authorities on our behalf, noble capitan. No, we could not allow so brave a caballero to suffer for us. No, return our money and call off the bargain.”
Job Warlock struggled to conceal a grin at this, and the Mexican rubbed his swarthy chin with a very dirty hand.
“Señor,” he returned, with an embarrassed air, “I could not accept your noble offer. Never shall it be said that Manuelo Garcia fled from these dogs of New Granada! Never shall it be said that Manuelo Garcia abandoned two ricos grandes to the wrath of the accursed Yankees! Señores, we are brothers. Give me your instructions, and I will obey. Besides,” he added with some naiveté, “I have lost most of my money at monte. Nor do I expect to return to Panama.”
Hampton chuckled.
“Good. We shall shave off our beards, in order not to be recognized. Then we shall come aboard—say, in three-quarters of an hour. When we come alongside, be ready. If possible, we shall get away without causing any alarm. What about a boat?”
El Hambre spoke up from his corner.
“I can arrange for a trustworthy boatman, señor. If it is your pleasure that I accompany the señor capitan, I can see the man and send him here to guide you.”
“So you want to go aboard the schooner with the captain, eh?”
“Si," responded the Indian, and uttered his harsh mirthless laugh.
Hampton looked at Job Warlock, and the latter shrugged slightly, leaving the decision to Hampton. The latter frowned in distaste, yet knew that there was nothing to be said. This was beyond question a matter of life and death. Doña Hermana was by this time aroused, and the town was probably being searched for the false Basques. The fact that the Mexican schooner was guarded, showed that the señora was not overlooking any bets. This schooner represented the sole means of escape—and not of escape alone, but of getting north upon a larger errand.
“Go, then,” said Hampton. “We'll bring the weapons.”