Part 14 (1/2)

Greatly touched by the deep devotion displayed by these sweet words, McKay bent his head and kissed her on the lips.

But at this moment the tender scene was abruptly ended by the shrill, strident tones of La Zandunga's voice.

”So I have caught you, shameless girl, philandering again with this rascally red-coat. May he die in a dog-kennel! Here, in my very house!

But, I promise you, it is for the last time. _Hola!_ Benito! Pedro!

help!” and, screaming wildly, the old crone tore Mariquita from McKay's side and dragged her into the house.

The young sergeant, eager to protect his love from ill-usage, would have followed, but he was confronted by Benito, who now stood in the doorway, black and menacing, with a great two-edged Albacete knife in his hand.

”Stand back, miscreant, hated Englishman, or I will stab you to the heart.”

Nothing daunted by the threat, McKay advanced boldly on Benito; with one hand he caught his would-be a.s.sailant by the throat; with the other the wrist that was lifted to strike. A few seconds more, and Benito had measured his length on the ground, while his murderous weapon had pa.s.sed into the possession of McKay.

Having thus disposed of one opponent, McKay met a second, in the person of Tio Pedro, who, slower in his movements, had also come out in answer to his wife's appeal.

”Who are you that dares to intrude here?” asked Pedro, roughly. ”I will complain to the town major, and have you punished for this.”

”Look to yourself, rather!” replied McKay, hotly. ”I stand too high to fear your threats. But you, thief and smuggler, I will bring the police upon you and your accomplice, who has just tried to murder me with his knife.”

Tio Pedro turned ghastly pale at the sergeant-major's words. He had evidently no wish for a domiciliary visit, and would have been glad to be well rid of McKay.

”Let him be! Let him be!” he said, attempting to pacify Benito, who, smarting from his recent overthrow, seemed ready to renew the struggle. ”Let him be! It is all a mistake. The gentleman has explained his business here, and nothing more need be said.”

”Nothing more!” hissed Benito, between his teeth. ”Not when he has insulted me--struck me! Nothing more! We shall have to settle accounts together, he and I. Look to yourself Senor Englishman. There is no bond that does not some day run out; no debt that is never paid.”

McKay disdained to notice these threats, and, after waiting a little longer in the hope of again seeing Mariquita, he left the house.

It was his misfortune, however, not to get speech with her again before his departure. The few short days intervening before embarkation were full of anxiety for him, and incessant, almost wearisome, activity. He had made himself one moment of leisure, and visited Bombardier Lane, but without result. Mariquita was invisible, and McKay was compelled to abandon all hope of bidding his dear one good-bye.

But he was not denied one last look at the girl of his heart. As the regiment, headed by all the bands of the garrison, marched gaily down to the New Mole, where the transport-s.h.i.+p awaited it, an excited throng of spectators lined the way. Colonel Blythe headed his regiment, of course, and close behind him, according to regulation, marched the young sergeant-major, in brave apparel, holding his head high, proudly conscious of his honourable position. The colonel and the sergeant-major were the first men down the New Mole stairs; and as they pa.s.sed McKay heard his name uttered with a half-scream.

He looked round hastily, and there saw Mariquita, with white, scared face and streaming eyes.

What could he do? It was his duty to march on unconscious, insensible to emotion. But this was more than mortal man could do. He paused, lingering irresolutely, when the colonel noticed his agitation, and quickly guessed the exact state of the case.

”'The girl I left behind me,' eh, sergeant-major? Well, fall out for a minute or two, if you like”--and, with this kindly and considerate permission, McKay took Mariquita aside to make his last _adieux_.

”_Adios! vida mia_” [good-bye, my life], he was saying, when the poor girl almost fainted in his arms.

He looked round, greatly perplexed, and happily his eye fell upon Sergeant Hyde.

”Here, Hyde,” he said, ”take charge of this dear girl.”

”What! sergeant-major, have you been caught in the toils of one of these bright-eyed damsels? It is well we have got the route. They are dangerous cattle, these women; and, if you let them, will hang like a mill-stone round a soldier's neck.”

”Pshaw! man, don't moralise. This girl is my heart's choice. Please Heaven I may return to console her for present sorrow. But I can't wait. Help me: I can trust you. See Mariquita safely back to her home, and then join us on board.”

”I shall be taken up as a deserter.”