CHAPTER XIII
TO BE SHOT AT SUNRISE
Never in his life had our hero experienced a feeling of such utter helplessness as he did upon recognizing del Concha. The treachery unfolded by the man's words was beyond his comprehension, and he knew not how to combat it. For a moment he stared speechless at the traitor, then he turned to the General, who was gazing at him with stern inquiry.
"Your Excellency," said Ridge, "the man who thus seeks to gain your favor, and, as I suppose, a reward, by denouncing me, is doubly a traitor. He kills Spaniards at every opportunity, and now seeks my life at your hands because he knows that I am one. It is true that I was captured by him and his band of Cuban ruffians. To save my life, I told him the story that he now brings to you. After thus allaying his suspicions, I seized a favorable opportunity to escape. By the superior swiftness of my horse I finally reached this place in safety, though pursued by him to your very lines and hotly fired upon, as can be proved by many witnesses. Now, therefore, I, José Remelios, bearer of despatches from the Señor Carranza, denounce this man as a doubly dyed traitor, and demand that he be arrested on a charge of being a Cuban spy."
"Have you ever seen him kill a Spaniard?" asked General Pando.
Ridge was obliged to admit that he had not.
"Then how do you know that he has done so?"
"From his own boastful confession. He claims to have taken the life of a Spanish soldier for every day of the last year."
The General smiled. "That is certainly a very boastful claim," he said, "but one not to be believed for a moment. Think you, sir, that such a number of Spaniards could be killed without my knowledge? or that, in any case, one man could thus overcome the brave, experienced, and well-armed soldiers of Spain? Your credulity, señor, is refreshing. Also I have no hesitation in telling you that ever since I took command of the eastern diocese, this man, recommended to me by my predecessor in office, has been the most faithful and valuable of my secret agents among the Cubans. Time and again he has furnished early information of important events which has subsequently proved correct in every detail. With such a record in his favor, am I now to doubt him upon the mere word of a stranger? No, señor, the honor of a Spaniard forbids. I am obliged, therefore--"
Just here came an interruption of voices at the door. Hearing them, del Concha, who had remained silent during the foregoing conversation and apparently careless of what was said concerning him, uttered a few hurried words to the General in a low tone, and disappeared behind a screen that stood close at hand. Directly afterwards a lieutenant and two soldiers entered with a prisoner, whom Ridge recognized as one of the ragged Cubans who had escorted him to Holguin.
"General," said the officer, saluting, "I bring a Cuban deserter who claims to have information of pressing importance that he will impart to no one but yourself, so I have ventured to intrude; but if it is your pleasure, I will remove him and seek to extort his secret."
"Oh no," replied the commander; "it is not worth the trouble. Let him speak, and quickly, for I am pressed with business."
"I come, Excellenza," began the deserter, in a trembling voice, "with the hope of clemency and a reward, to notify your Excellency that this señor"--here he pointed to Ridge--"is not what he pretends. I was of a band who captured him on the coast, and I overheard his confession to our leader. From his own mouth, therefore, I learned that he is a spy, and--"
"An American bearing false despatches," interrupted the General, irritably. "You see I already know all that you would say. Remove your prisoner, soldados." Then, in a lower tone to the officer, he added: "Take him away and dispose of him. Such canaille are as troublesome as fleas. Immediately upon completing the job you may return, as I have other business for you."
With a salute, the officer hurried after his men. At the same time del Concha emerged from his place of concealment, and the General, turning to Ridge, said:
"You have doubtless noted, señor, how quickly the information concerning yourself brought by this gentleman is confirmed. Therefore you will not be surprised to have me order you into confinement until your case can be reported to Havana"--at this moment came the startling sound of a volley of musketry, evidently fired close at hand--"and a decision concerning it received from the Captain-General," concluded the speaker, paying no heed to the firing.
As Ridge was about to utter a protest, the officer who had left the room a minute before, re-entered it, saluted with stiff precision, and stood awaiting orders.
"Lieutenant Navarro," said the General, "you will remove this gentleman, who is charged with being an American spy, and bid the officer in charge of the guard-house hold him in closest custody until he receives further instructions. Adios, Señor Remelios. May your night's rest be peaceful."
Perceiving that resistance or protest would be useless, Ridge passively allowed himself to be led away. A file of soldiers stood outside, and, surrounded by these, he was marched to the guardhouse, where, after being searched and relieved of everything contained by his pockets, he was led into a bare, cell-like room.
A wooden stool and a heap of filthy straw in one corner constituted its sole furnishing. Through a grating in the door came the flickering light of a lamp burning in the corridor, while outer air was admitted by a small iron-barred opening in one of the side walls some six feet above the floor. The place reeked with dampness, and, in spite of these openings, its air was foul and stifling. A few minutes after Ridge entered it, and as he sat in dumb despair, vainly striving to realize his unhappy situation, a soldier brought him a bowl of bean porridge and a jug of water. Without a word, he set these down and departed.
A little later other soldiers came and gazed curiously at him through the grated door, always speaking of him as "el Yanko," and making merry at his expense. Thus several hours passed, and he still sat motionless, trying to think; but his brain was in a whirl, and he seemed as powerless to concentrate his thoughts as he was friendless. He realized dimly that at regular intervals a guard, pacing the outer corridor, paused before the door of his cell to peer in at him, and so make sure of his presence; but he paid slight attention to this official scrutiny.
Suddenly his ear caught a sound strange to that place--a girlish voice laughing merrily and evidently exchanging brisk repartee with the soldiers in the guard-room. It was a pleasanter sound than any he had heard, and he listened to it eagerly. After a little the voice seemed to draw nearer, and he could distinguish the words, "el Yanko." He, then, was the subject of that gay conversation. A moment later, from the same source, came an expression that numbed him with the awfulness of its possible meaning. "To be shot at sunrise? Poor fellow!" Could he be the "poor fellow" meant? Of course not; but then he might be. Such a summary disposition of prisoners was not unknown to Spanish jailers.
While his mind was busy with this startling question the laughing voice, now lowered almost to a whisper, approached his door, and he became conscious of a scrutiny through the grating. Also a discussion was going on outside, and he heard:
"No, no, not a smile, not a word, unless you open the door so that I may see el Yanko. I have never seen one in all my life--never."
A short pause, then a key turned, and the door was gently opened. Two figures entered. A soldier and a slender girl, who clung fearfully to his arm. They stood and looked at Ridge as he sat on his wooden stool, and he stared back. For a moment the three gazed at one another in silence.
Then the girl exclaimed, pettishly:
"If that is all your famous Yanko amounts to, I have already seen enough, since he looks exactly like other men, only more ugly than some. Come, let us go."
With this she playfully turned her companion about and pushed him from the cell. As she did so she made a quick backward movement with her right hand, and something fell on the straw pallet as though flung there. A second later the door was relocked, and, with merry laughter again echoing through the dim corridor, they were gone.
Curiously Ridge fumbled in the musty bedding until he found a small packet enveloped in brown paper. He opened it eagerly. Inside were two tiny steel saws, made from a watch spring, and a little tube of oil. There was also a bit of white paper on which was writing. By holding this close to the lamp-lighted grating. Ridge read:
"You have only till daylight. Saw out a bar and squeeze through. Friends will await you outside. Destroy this." There was no signature.
"What friends can I have in this place?" thought the young trooper, as he nervously chewed the bit of paper to a pulp. At the same time he was tremulous with a new hope. "Perhaps I can do it," he said, "and anything will be better than sitting in idleness, with a prospect of being shot at sunrise."
Standing on his wooden stool he could easily reach the lower end of the iron bars closing the cell window, and he at once began work on them. At first he seemed to produce about as much effect as would the gnawing of a mouse, but after a while his tiny saw was buried in the tough iron. Then footsteps approached, and Ridge had barely time to fling himself on the vile-smelling pallet before a sentry was peering in at the grating. A ray of light fell where he lay, but fortunately failed to reach the side on which the barred aperture was located. So the prisoner made a long bunch of the straw, covered it with his coat, and placed his water-jug at one end, thus causing the whole to bear a rude resemblance to a human figure.
After that he worked steadily, only pausing at the sound of footsteps, but not leaving the scene of his operations. He found that he must cut two bars instead of only one, and a saw snapped in twain when the first was but half severed. After that he handled the other with intense caution, and his heart throbbed painfully with anxiety as the work neared completion.
For hours he toiled, and he knew that daylight could not be far off when the second bar was finally cut. To bend it aside took all his strength, and so occupied was he in doing this that for the first time that night he heeded not a sound of footsteps in the corridor.
"What goes on here?" questioned a harsh voice, and Ridge's heart leaped into his mouth. With desperate energy he wrenched the bars to one side, hearing as he did so a fumbling at the lock of his door. Utilizing his strength to the utmost, he pulled himself up, forced his body through the narrow opening, and pitched headlong to the ground outside. At the same time came fierce shouts, a pistol-shot, and a great clamor from the place he had left,
But strong hands were helping him to his feet, and a voice was saying in his ears: "You have done well, amigo. Now we must fly for our lives."
Of course it could not be; but to Ridge's senses, confused by the shock of his fall, it seemed as though the voice was that of the false friend who had betrayed him.