Steve Yeager Part 29

"Yes. Just watch his eyes when he looks at her if you're in doubt about the old villain. There's a tiger look in them, and something else that's worse." Yeager chanced to glance out of the window. "Here they come now back from their ride. Why not meet them as they alight?"

The captain reached for his hat and led the way down the street. Cabenza followed him, a step or two in the rear. They reached headquarters just as Pasquale lifted Ruth from the saddle. He held her for a moment in his strong arms and grinned down at her frightened, fascinated eyes.

"Adios, chat.i.ta!" he murmured, his little eyes dancing with triumph.

She fled from him into the house, terror giving speed to her limbs.

Upon Holcomb the dictator turned eyes that had grown cold and harsh again.

"Welcome, captain, welcome, to the Northern Legion," he said brusquely, offering a gauntleted hand.

They went into the house together, Pasquale's arm across the shoulder of the Texan.

"Dios, I'm glad to see you, captain," the insurgent chief ran on quickly. "This riff-raff of mine can't hit a hillside. Hammer the artillery into shape and I'll say gracias."

"Yes. I see you have a countrywoman of mine visiting you," the American said quietly.

"From Arizona." The Mexican laughed harshly. "We should get together more, your country and mine. We should bind the States and the Republic together by closer ties. A man without a wife is but a half man.

Captain, I shall marry."

It was common knowledge of the camp that in his outlaw days Pasquale had a wife and family. The sons were grown up now. The rumor ran that the wife had found a more congenial mate and was separated from Gabriel by common agreement. Holcomb made no reference to this free-and-easy arrangement.

"Congratulations, general. Is the lady some high-born senorita?"

"The lady you have just seen is my choice--the young woman from Arizona," answered Pasquale, flas.h.i.+ng from under his heavy grizzled brows a sharp, questioning look at the Texan.

"Indeed! I shall be happy to meet the lady and wish her joy," replied Holcomb lightly.

"You shall, captain. She's a little reluctant yet, but Gabriel has a way of overcoming that. I shall be married on Sat.u.r.day."

"Ah!"

The face of the Texan had as much expression as a piece of flint.

Pasquale, watching him warily, wondered what he was thinking behind those hard, steel-gray eyes.

CHAPTER XX

NEAR THE END OF HIS TRAIL

Harrison strode up and down the room furiously. "Who in Mexico is this Pasquale?" he demanded, and then answered his own question: "Sc.u.m of the earth, a peon whipped for stealing whiskey, a hill robber and murderer.

In my country they'd take the scoundrel and hang him by the neck."

"True, amigo,--all true," a.s.sented Culvera suavely, examining his cigarette as he spoke. "But it is well to remember that walls have ears, and therefore to whisper--when one speaks of Gabriel."

"I'm not afraid of him," boasted the American, but his voice fell.

"I am," differed Culvera frankly. "Ramon is fond of Ramon, so he chooses a safe time to pay his debts--and he does not advertise in advance that he is going to settle."

"Bah! You sit still and do nothing. But I--By G.o.d! I'll not stand it. He has given it out he will be married Sat.u.r.day. We'll see about that.

Maybe he'll be buried that day instead."

The dark eyes of the Mexican swept him with a sidelong glance. If he could do it without incurring responsibility himself, he was very willing to spur on the fierce pa.s.sion of this man.

"Be careful, senor. Pasquale is dangerous."

"You know he is dangerous--to Ramon Culvera. Why don't you strike and be done with it?"

"The time is not ripe. Some day--perhaps--" He let a shrug of his shoulders finish the sentence for him.

"It's always manana with you Mexicans," sneered Harrison with a savage lift of the lip. "You want to play it safe all the time. Why don't you take a chance?"

"I play my own cards, senor," returned Ramon equably.

"You play 'em darned close to your stomach. Me, I go out on a limb oncet in a while."

"Be sure you don't stay out there--at the end of a rope," smiled the Mexican.

"They haven't grown the hemp yet that will hang Chad Harrison." The prizefighter leaned toward him, eyes s.h.i.+ning. "If I pull it off and make my getaway--what then? Will you send the girl to me, wherever I am?"

"You mean, if you--"

"--Give Pasquale what's been coming to him for a long time."

The eyes of Culvera were slits of light. His face was a brown mask that covered an alert and wary attention.

"I didn't hear what you said, amigo. It is better that I shouldn't. But if I had charge of the army instead of General Pasquale my policy would be different. I would return this Arizona girl to her home."

"To her home!" broke in Harrison harshly.

"To her husband," amended the Mexican significantly, adding after an instant--"who is a good friend of mine."

"You'll stand pat on that, will you?"

"It would be my purpose to reward my friends--those who have helped the cause--if by any chance command of the Legion should fall to me."

Harrison glared at him suspiciously. "You're so smooth I don't know whether I can believe you or not. You'd sell your own father out for the right price."

"I pay my debts, senor--both kinds," suggested the Mexican, unmoved at this outburst.

"See that you do."

"Be sure I shall, amigo," returned Culvera, looking straight at him from narrowed eyes that told nothing.

The prizefighter took another turn up and down the room. He was anxious and hara.s.sed as well as driven hard by hatred and jealousy.