Part 7 (1/2)
I almost wish I'd never come here. This complication about the general's irrigating scheme makes it awkward. I'm bound not to explain things to him; and yet, if I don't, and he discovers (as he can't help doing) what I am here for, nothing will persuade him that I haven't been playing a double game; and that would not be a promising preliminary towards becoming a member of his family. If Miriam were only Grace, now, it would be plain sailing. h.e.l.lo! who's this? Senor Don Miguel, as I'm a sinner! What is he up to, pray? Can this be the explanation of Miriam's escapade? I have a strong desire to blow a hole through that fellow!--Buenas noches, Senor de Mendoza! I am enchanted to have the unexpected honor of meeting you.”
Senor de Mendoza turned round, disagreeably startled. It is only fair to explain that he had not come hither with any lover-like designs towards Miriam. Grace was the magnet that had drawn his steps to the Trednokes'
garden, and the truth is that that enterprising young lady was not without a suspicion that he might turn up. Could this information have been imparted to Freeman, it would have saved much trouble; but, as it was, not only did he jump to the conclusion that Don Miguel was his rival (and, seemingly, a not unsuccessful one), but a similar misgiving as to Freeman's purposes towards Grace found its way into the heart of the Spaniard. It was a most perverse trick of fate.
The two men contemplated each other, each after his own fas.h.i.+on: Don Miguel pale, glaring, bristling; Freeman smiling, insolent, hectoring.
”Why are you here, senor?” demanded the former, at length.
”Partly, senor, because such is my pleasure. Partly, to inform you that your presence here offends me, and to humbly request you to be off.”
”Senor, this is an impertinence.”
”Senor, one is not impertinent to prowling greasers. One admonishes them, and, if they do not obey, one chastises them.”
”Do you talk of chastising Don Miguel de Mendoza? Senor, I will wash out that insult with your blood!”
”Excellent! It is at your service for the taking. But, lest we disturb the repose of our friends yonder, let us seek a more convenient spot. I noticed a very pretty little glade on the right as I rode over here. You are armed? Good! we will have this little affair adjusted within half an hour. Yonder star--the planet of love, senor--shall see fair play.
Andamos!”
CHAPTER V.
Having mounted their steeds, the two sanguinary young gentlemen rode onwards, side by side, but in silence; for the souls of those who have resolved to slay each other find small delight in vain conversation.
Moreover, there is that in the conscious proximity of death which stimulates to thought much more than to speech. But Freeman preserved an outward demeanor of complacent calm, as one who doubts not, nor dreads, the issue; and, indeed, this was not the first time by many that he had taken his life in his hand and brought it unscathed through dangers.
Don Miguel, on the other hand, was troubled in spirit, and uneasy in the flesh. He was one soon hot and soon cold; and this long ride to the decisive event went much against his stomach. If the conflict had taken place there in the garden, while the fire of the insult was yet scorching him, he could have fought it out with good will; but now the night air seemed chiller and chiller, and its frigidity crept into his nerves: he doubted of the steadiness of his aim, bethought himself that the darkness was detrimental to accurate shooting, and wondered whether Senor Freeman would think it necessary to fight across a handkerchief.
He could not help regretting, too, that the quarrel had not been occasioned by some more definite and satisfactory provocation,--something which merely to think of would steel the heart to irrevocable murderousness. But no blow had pa.s.sed; even the words, though bitter to swallow, had been wrapt in the phrases of courtesy; and perhaps the whole affair was the result of some misapprehension.
He stole a look at the face of his companion; and the latter's air of confident and cheerful serenity made him feel worse than ever. Was he being brought out here to be butchered for nothing,--he, Don Miguel de Mendoza, who had looked forward to many pleasures in this life? It was too bad. It was true, the fortune of war might turn the other way; but Don Miguel was aware of a sensation in his bones which made this hope weak.
At length Freeman drew rein and glanced around him. They were in a lonely and--Don Miguel thought--a most desolate and unattractive spot.
An open s.p.a.ce of about half an acre was bounded on one side by a growth of wild mustard, whose slender stalks rose to more than the height of a man's head. On the other side was a grove of live-oak; and in front, the ground fell away in a rugged, bush-grown declivity.
”It strikes me that this is just about what we want,” remarked Freeman, in his full, cheerful tones. ”We are half a mile from the road; the ground is fairly level; and there's no possibility of our being disturbed. I was thinking, this afternoon, as I pa.s.sed through here, what an ideal spot it was for just such a little affair as you and I are bent on. But I didn't venture to antic.i.p.ate such speedy good fortune as your obliging condescension has brought to pa.s.s, Don Miguel.”
”Caramba!” muttered the senor, s.h.i.+vering. He might have said more, but was unwilling to trust his voice, or to waste nervous energy.
Meanwhile, Freeman had dismounted, and was tethering his horse. It occurred to the senor that it would be easy to pull his gun, send a bullet through his companion, and gallop away. He did not yield to this temptation, partly from traditional feeling that it would not be suitable conduct for a De Mendoza, partly because he might miss the shot or only inflict a wound, and partly because such deeds demand a nerve which, at that moment, was not altogether at his command. Instead, he slowly dismounted himself, and wondered whether it would ever be vouchsafed him to sit in that saddle again.
Freeman now produced his revolver, a handsome, silver-mounted weapon, that looked business-like. ”What sort of a machine is yours?” he inquired, pleasantly. ”You can take your choice. I'm not particular, but I can recommend this as a sure thing, if you would like to try it. It never misses at twenty paces.”
”Twenty paces?” repeated Don Miguel, with a faint gleam of hope.
”Of course we won't have any twenty paces to-night,” added Freeman, with a laugh. ”I thought it might be a good plan to start at, say, fifteen, and advance firing. In that way, one or other of us will be certain to do something sooner or later. Would that arrangement be agreeable to Senor de Mendoza?”
”Valga me Dios! I am content,” said the latter, fetching a deep breath, and setting his teeth. ”I will keep my weapon.”
”Muy buen,” returned the American. ”So now let us take our ground: that is, if you are quite ready?”
Accordingly they selected their stations, facing respectively about north and south, with the planet of love between them, as it were.
”Oblige me by giving the word, senor,” said Freeman, c.o.c.king his weapon.