Part 26 (2/2)

”Oh, yes, I forgot,” said the chief clerk. ”I thought it was the Indian Ma.s.sacre, but I guess that's for to-morrow.

Go straight to the end of the street and turn left about half a mile and you'll find the boys down there.”

We thanked him and withdrew.

We pa.s.sed across the open plaza, and went down a narrow side road, bordered here and there with adobe houses, and so out into the open country. Here the hills rose again and the road that we followed wound sharply round a turn into a deep gorge, bordered with rocks and sage brush. We had no sooner turned the curve of the road than we came upon a scene of great activity. Men in Mexican costume were running to and fro apparently arranging a sort of barricade at the side of the road. Others seemed to be climbing the rocks on the further side of the gorge, as if seeking points of advantage. I noticed that all were armed with rifles and machetes and presented a formidable appearance. Of Villa himself I could see nothing. But there was a grim reality about the glittering knives, the rifles and the maxim guns that I saw concealed in the sage brush beside the road.

”What is it?” I asked of a man who was standing idle, watching the scene from the same side of the road as ourselves.

”Attack of American cavalry,” he said nonchalantly.

”Here!” I gasped.

”Yep, in about ten minutes: soon as they are ready.”

”Where's Villa?”

”It's him they're attacking. They chase him here, see!

This is an ambush. Villa rounds on them right here, and they fight to a finis.h.!.+”

”Great heavens!” I exclaimed. ”How do you know that?”

”Know it? Why because I _seen_ it. Ain't they been trying it out for three days? Why, I'd be in it myself only I'm off work. Got a sore toe yesterday--horse stepped on it.”

All this was, of course, quite unintelligible to me.

”But it's right here where they're going to fight?” I asked.

”Sure,” said the American, as he moved carelessly aside, ”as soon as the boss gets it all ready.”

I noticed for the first time a heavy-looking man in an American tweed suit and a white plug hat, moving to and fro and calling out directions with an air of authority.

”Here!” he shouted, ”what in h--l are you doing with that machine gun? You've got it clean out of focus. Here, Jose, come in closer--that's right. Steady there now, and don't forget, at the second whistle you and Pete are dead. Here, you, Pete, how in thunder do you think you can die there? You're all out of the picture and hidden by that there sage brush. That's no place to die. And, boys, remember one thing, now, _die slow_. Ed”--he turned and called apparently to some one invisible behind the rocks--”when them two boys is killed, turn her round on them, slew her round good and get them centre focus. Now then, are you all set? Ready?”

At this moment the speaker turned and saw Raymon and myself.

”Here, youse,” he shouted, ”get further back, you're in the picture. Or, say, no, stay right where you are.

You,” he said, pointing to me, ”stay right where you are and I'll give you a dollar to just hold that horror; you understand, just keep on registering it. Don't do another thing, just register that face.”

His words were meaningless to me. I had never known before that it was possible to make money by merely registering my face.

”No, no,” cried out Raymon, ”my friend here is not wanting work. He has a message, a message of great importance for General Villa.”

”Well,” called back the boss, ”he'll have to wait. We can't stop now. All ready, boys? One--two--now!”

And with that he put a whistle to his lips and blew a long shrill blast.

Then in a moment the whole scene was transformed. Rifle shots rang out from every crag and bush that bordered the gully.

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