Sherry had listened with a quizzical intentness, now and again cocking his head at some dramatic bit, and when Becodar paused he suddenly leaned over and thrust a dollar into the ever-waiting hand. Becodar gave a great sign of pleasure, and fumbled again with the money in his pocket. Then, after a moment, it shifted to the bit of ribbon that hung from the chair: "See, senors," he said. "I tied this ribbon to the chair all those years ago."
My eyes were on the peg and the holes in the wall. Sherry questioned him. "Why do you spike the wall with the little red peg, Becodar?"
"The Little Red Peg, senor? Ah! It is not wonderful you notice that. There are eight bullet-holes in that zarape"—he pointed to the wall—" there are eight holes in the wall for the Little Red Peg. Well, of the eight men who fired on my brother, two are left, as you may see. The others are all gone, this way or that." Sherry shrugged a shoulder. "There are two left, eh, Becodar? How will they die, and when?" Becodar was motionless as a stone for a moment. Then he said softly: "I do not know quite how or when. But one drinks much mescal, and the other has a taste for quarrel. He will get in trouble with the Rurales, and then good-bye to him! Four others on furlough got in trouble with the Rurales, and that was the end. They were taken at different times for some fault—by Gerado's company—Gerado, my cousin. Camping at night, they tried to escape. There is the Law of Fire, senors, as you know. If a man thinks his guard sleeps, and makes a run for it, they do not chase—they fire; and if he escapes unhurt, good; he is not troubled. But the Rurales are fine shots!"
"You mean," said Sherry, "that the Rurales—your Gerado, for one— pretended to sleep—to be careless. The fellows made a rush for it and were dropped? Eh, Becodar, of the Little Red Peg?"
Becodar shrugged a shoulder gently. "Ah, senor, who can tell? My Gerado is a sure shot."
"Egad," said Sherry, "who'd have thought it? It looks like a sweet little vendetta, doesn't it? A blind beggar, too, with his Gerado to help the thing along.
"'With his Gerado!' Sounds like a Gatling, or a bomb, or a diabolical
machine, doesn't it? And yet they talk of this country being
Americanised! You can't Americanise a country with a real history.
Well, Becodar, that's four. What of the other two that left for Kingdom
Come?"
Becodar smiled pensively. He seemed to be enduring a kind of joy, or else making light of a kind of sorrow. "Ah, those two! They were camping in a valley; they were escorting a small party of people who had come to look at ruins—Diaz was President then. Well, a party of Aztecs on the other side of the river began firing across, not as if doing or meaning any harm. By-and-bye the shot came rattling through the tent of the two. One got up, and yelled across to them to stop, but a chance bullet brought him down, and then by some great mistake a lot of bullets came through the tent, and the other soldier was killed. It was all a mistake, of course."
"Yes," cynically said Sherry. "The Aztecs got rattled, and then the bullets rattled. And what was done to the Aztecs?"
"Senor, what could be done? They meant no harm, as you can see."