Part 30 (1/2)

”I came up behind Herrero most of the way, and when there were signs that we were getting closer I sent one of my boys on to creep in upon his camp two or three days ago. From what he told me when he came back I fancied there was mischief on foot, and I pushed on as fast as possible. Considering everything, it seems just as well I did.”

The other man appeared unwilling to let his gaze wander beyond the veranda, which was in one way comprehensible. There was shrinking in his face, and his voice was strained and hoa.r.s.e.

”It was so sudden--it has left me a trifle dazed,” he said. ”I am almost afraid the trouble is not over yet.”

Ormsgill smiled rea.s.suringly. ”I scarcely think--you--have any cause to worry. There is no doubt that Herrero inspired his boys, and attempts of this kind, as no doubt you are aware, have been made on mission stations before, but it's certain he would disclaim all knowledge of what they meant to do, and will be quite content to let the matter go no further. That is, at least, so far as anybody connected with the Mission is concerned.”

”I am afraid he may find some means of laying the blame on you.”

”It is quite likely,” and Ormsgill laughed. ”After all, it's a thing I'm used to, and, you see, I'm proscribed already. As it happens, so is Nares. He should never have left me. I have no doubt Herrero, who has friends in authority, will endeavor to make him regret his share in to-night's proceedings.”

Nares glanced at one of the rigid figures that lay beneath him in the moonlight. He saw the naked black shoulders, and the soiled white draperies that had fallen apart from the ebony limbs, and a little s.h.i.+ver ran through him. The heat of the conflict had vanished now, and the pale light showed that his face was drawn and gray.

”I struck that man,” he said. ”I don't know what possessed me, but I think I meant to kill him. In one way, the thing is horrible.”

”Well,” said Ormsgill dryly, ”it is also very natural. The impulse you seem to shrink from is lurking somewhere in most of us. In any case, the man is certainly dead. I looked at him as I came up.”

He stopped a moment, and leaned somewhat heavily upon the bal.u.s.trade with his eyes fixed on the dusky form of the negro. ”The meanest thing upon this earth is the man who sides with the oppressor and tramples on his own kind. Still, though I think what I did was warranted, that was not why I shot those men. One doesn't always reason about these matters, as I fancy you understand.”

He turned, and looked at Nares who, after a momentary shrinking, steadily met his gaze. The man was wholly honest, and the thing was clear to him. He had struck at last, shrewdly, in a righteous cause, and n.o.body could have blamed him, but, as had happened in his comrade's case, human bitterness had also nerved the blow.

”Well,” he said slowly, ”you and I, at least, will probably have to face the results of it.”

Again Ormsgill laughed, but a little glint crept into his eyes. ”As I pointed out, we are both of us outlawed, with the hand of every white man in this country against us, but we have still a thing to do, and somehow I almost think it will be done.”

Then he turned to the man in charge of the Mission. ”Nares is coming away with me. There are several reasons that make it advisable. It is very unlikely that anybody will trouble you further about this affair, and if the blame is laid on us it can't greatly matter. The score against one of us is a tolerably long one already--and if my luck holds out it may be longer. There is just another point. Shall I take those two boys below away for you?”

”No,” said the other man quietly. ”There is, at least, one duty we owe them.”

Ormsgill made a little gesture. ”The bones of their victims lie thick along each trail to the interior, but, after all, that is probably a thing for which they will not be held responsible. In the meanwhile, there are one or two reasons why I should outmarch Herrero if it can be done. When Nares is ready we will go on again.”

Nares was ready in a few minutes, and shaking hands with the two men who went down the veranda stairway with them, they struck into the path that led up the steep hillside. Ormsgill's boys plodded after them, but when they reached the crest of the ridge that overhung the valley Nares sat down, gasping, in the loose white sand, and looked down on the shadowy mission. He could see its pale lights blinking among the leaves.

”It stands for a good deal that I have done with,” he said. ”It is a strange and almost bewildering thing to feel oneself adrift.”

”Still,” said Ormsgill, ”now and then the bonds of service gall.”

Nares made a little gesture. ”Often,” he said. ”Perhaps I was not worthy to wear the uniform and march under orders with the rank and file, but I think the Church Militant has, after all, a task for the free companies which now and then push on ahead of her regular fighting line.”

”They march light,” said Ormsgill. ”That counts for a good deal. It has once or twice occurred to me that the authorized divisions are a little c.u.mbered by their commissariat and baggage wagons.”

Nares sighed. ”Well,” he said softly, ”every one must, at least now and then, leave a good deal that he values or has grown attached to behind him.” He stopped a moment, and then asked abruptly, ”You have heard from the girl at Las Palmas. Desmond would bring you letters?”

”No,” said Ormsgill, ”not a word. She had no sympathy with my project--that she should have was hardly to be expected. One must endeavor to be reasonable.”

”There must have been a time when you expected--everything.”

Ormsgill sat silent a minute or two, and while he did so a moving light blinked among the trees below. It stopped at length, and negro voices came up faintly with the thud of hastily plied shovels. It seemed that the terrified converts were coming back and the missionaries had already set them a task. Ormsgill knew what it was, but he looked down at the rifle that glinted in the moonlight across his knee with eyes that were curiously steady. The thing he had done had been forced upon him. Then he turned to his companion, and though he was usually a reticent man he spoke what was in his mind that night.

”There certainly was such a time,” he said. ”No doubt it has come to others. For five long years I held fast by the memory of the girl I had left in England, and I think there were things it saved me from.