Between her and them yawned a gap in time wider than the centuries that intervened between herself and her wode-stained ancestors running wild in the woods of Britain. Their low, sloping foreheads, unbalanced heads with all the weight below; their loose mouths, brute jaws, dark skin, nature’s infallible stigma of inferiority, pronounced them half a million years behind her, the last-bloom of a higher race.
In her a solitary youth had intensified the delicate fancies, sensitiveness, timorous imaginings, shrinkings, and retreats that mark a young girl’s first reachings toward love. And now—her idealizations were suddenly confronted with the caveman’s brutal practice. Sitting there, she endured a thousand tortures. Worse than their coarse jests were their glances. She shrank under them in hot shame; to escape them took the food they offered, moved over and knelt beside Ramon.
He was sitting, head hanging, but as, now, he looked up the firelight showed the sweat in beads on his brow. “You bring me food?” His accent carried more than a thousand self-reproaches.
She did not attempt consolation she did not feel. “Pretend to eat.” She spoke in English. “They are watching, now. But soon they will gamble”—she shuddered, thinking of the stake—“will see only the cards. I still have your knife. When the time serves I will cut you loose. Their rifles are piled behind us with the saddles. They may shoot you down from the fire. But to reach them is our only chance.”
He lowered his head to hide a sudden flash of hope. “I will do anything, take any chance. Greater punishment no man could suffer than I am enduring. But it has made me think—realize my blind selfishness. I can only ask your forgiveness.”
“Now, compañeros, the cards! Cut and shuffle for love!” A hoarse voice came from the fire.
While the first hand of a game she did not understand was being dealt she watched the flying cards with dread interest; was still watching when Ramon whispered:
“I know that game. Five minutes will see it finished. By leaning a little to one side, your body will cover my elbows. One cut will set them free. I will still sit as I am, and when I whisper slash the riata at my feet, then run! run into the depths of the woods. From here to San Carlos is but a couple of leagues. Once there—with the jefe, you will be safe.”
Ilarian’s bellowing laugh rang out, just then, marking the close of the first hand. “One to me, little one! Be not impatient. The luck is with us. Soon we shall take a little pasear together.”
“If he wins again it will be over in a minute,” Ramon whispered, while the cards were fluttering around again. As the men bent over them, thumbing their hands, he gave the word, “Now!”