The spider of Truxillo. (The passing show) Exciting adventures on land and sea
Savage, Richard, 1846-1903
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HAMLIN’S MAN'F’D HAMLIN’S BLOOD and ONLY COUGH LIVER PILLS BY HAMLINS BALSAM FOR HEADACHE, WIZARD BEST INDIGESTION, OIL REMEDY FOR CONSTIPATION, CO., COUGHS AND ETC. CHICAGO. HOARSENESS. 25 Cents 1 j 50 Cents PER BOTTLE. PER BOTTLE. THE SPIDER OF TRUXILLO * *. * The Spider of I ruxillo (THE PASSING SHOW) EXCITING ADVENTURES ON LAND AND SEA / BY Richard AUTHOR OF “My Official Wife.” “ In the Old Chateau.” “A Daughter of Judas.” “The Little Lady of Lagunitas.” “The Flying Halcyon.” “For Life and Love.” “The Anarchist.” “The Masked Venus.” “The Princess of Alaska.” “Delilah of Harlem.” “ Miss Devereux of the Mariquita.” “ Prince Schamyl’s Wooing.” Neely’s Popular Library No. 53. Nov. 1^,-1895. $6.00 per year. Entered as Second-class Matter 'i/ at Chicago Publisher NEW YORK CHICAGO Copyright, 1893, 1896, BY F. TENNYSON NEELY All Rights Reserved AGAINST ODDS. A NIGHT AT THE CHORRERA RANCHO. SPANISH HONDURAS 1890. PART I. THE LA HAGUA MINE. IT was only the fear of just punishment which drove Adrian Hope, after serving as a subordi- nate officer in the Northern army during the war of the Rebellion, to that refuge of the escaped villains of all countries, Spanish Honduras. When the volunteers were paid off in 1865, Hope quickly betook himself to Truxillo, with a long roll of unpunished crimes blackening his twenty-two years. Of respectable birth, he was carefully educated in New York, by the clergy of the Mother Church which he disgraced. This renegade American was an accomplished classic scholar, a modern linguist, and possessed of a keen and crafty cunning dangerous to all. Smooth, plausible, inured to every fatigue, a liar 3 4 THE PASSING SHOlV and thief, he had innate courage, sly wit, and a devilish ingenuity in evil. The thousand expedients of actual service were added to his mental stock in trade, and with a black heart he laughed at futile pursuit, and vowed himself to a career of crime. Too lazy and dishonest for any useful calling, he steadily added worse actions to his long roll of foul deeds. Among the legions discharged at the close of the war, were many men who richly deserved the gallows or the yard arm. By sheer weight of numbers these villains broke through the net of justice. No greater villain than Adrian Hope ever skulked under the flag he dishonored. An accomplished scribe, a practical scientist, and an omnivorous reader, he possessed every arm which education and precocious experience could give to the wicked. Hypocrite, voluptu- ary, traitor and “vaurien,” his career of fraud and dissimulation spread from the Pacific ocean to Europe, in the twenty-five years succeeding the war. In 1865 he might have vaguely dreamed of an honest career among the simple peasants of Honduras, but his usefulness to the pirates, smugglers, corrupt officials, and black- THE PASSING SHOW 5 faced “bravos” of Honduras, led him onward through endless villainies. Humbug projects, visionary colonies, govern- mental swindles, personal frauds, and other dark schemes tossed him to and fro, on the wildest waves of the barbaric life of Spanish Honduras. Appearing in Paris, after deluding an Irish colony to the grim poisoned jungles of Honduras, he quickly wasted in foul riot in the gay capital, his ill gotten gains. After the starved and fever stricken Irish, cajoled from their land, were lying in silent graves, Adrian Hope returned to Hon- duras, chased back by villainies for which the iron hand of European justice would have branded him for life as an unpitied felon. Most of his victims were dead, the rest were scattered and to the foul scum of the worst land on earth, he returned. Useful with pen, tongue and education, to the cabals of the tumble-down Honduranean towns, he slowly gravitated into the self abasement of drink and half-caste life. At forty-seven, in the year 1890, Adrian Hope was as dangerous a scoundrel as even Honduras could produce among its many refugees from the criminal classes of the world. Strangely enough, THE PASSING SHOIV his mental vigor never failed him. An “indigene” in his knowledge of the mixed local tribes and their dialects, he was skilled in every trick and artifice of the wild people he lived with. His dirty “cuartel” in Truxillo, contained a few hundred books. Lazy and unkempt, lolling in his hammock, a few bananas, a crock of water, or the easily obtained fish and tropic fruits, gave him a meagre subsistence. When a steamer ar- rived from the United States, or the West Indies, Hope, clad in motley semi-civilized garb, would lurk around the old stone hotel, the saloons and stores, and prey on- the different passengers who needed the services of a general valet-de place. Pander, spy and swindler, he was not even thankful for the brandy and cigars lavished on him, nor the ill gotten gains robbed from the unsuspecting “innocents” drawn to the “Paradise” of Honduras. Driven out of the interior of this wild, danger- ous and yet beautiful land, for his varied crimes, he hovered around Truxillo. Schoolmaster, scribe, petty lawyer, occasional surveyor, lacquey and go-between, his record embraced occurrences which beggared belief. Coward by choice, not THE PASSING SHOIV 7 by nature, he had now learned to guard his own safety, by skillfully inciting others to crime. Yet several mysterious disappearances of travelling foreigners, some tiagic events in local families, and a number of villainous deeds of lust, fraud and violence, forced him to lurk near the port of Truxillo,. from whence he could easily escape to any one of the hundred hiding places of the West Indies. While lying in his hammock, in his bestial abode, lazily watching some low browed native woman drudge, hardly out of her “teens,” slaving for him, Adrian Hope devoured every odd Ameri- can newspaper to be had. Petty thefts and small frauds closed many doors to him, yet the so-called “merchants” were fain to use his pen and many useful accomplishments in their polyglot corre- spondence. Shunned and feared, detested and despised, a twenty dollar roll of silver would be thrown him when his work was over. With this and a box of cigars, (supplemented with a couple of bottles of brandy), he would debauch until some new call for his services opened a reluctant door to him again. Lazily recovering from his excesses, his spare 8 THE PASSING SHOIV time, (when no fresh schemes were busying his devilish nature), was devoted to conning his Horace, poring over Faust, dreaming with sublime Shakespeare, or turning the pages of Dante. These diverse works, (in their original tongues) with his other still treasured books, were either relics of his college days, or the casual finds of a book worm adventurer. Hope fell heir by “hook or crook, ” to all the odd volumes tossed around this lazy, dreamy, fever haunted tropic seaport, by the ignorant. The only line of demarcation between Hope and the beast was his satanic intelligence, his perverted gifts, his wasted education, and the curse to mankind that he could not travel on “all fours.” A living semblance of the“serving man, ”so viv- idly painted by Edgar in “King Lear;” he was an educated modern Ishmael. From this fertile and vicious brain, in the year 1889 was evolved the singular plot of decoying some inexperienced stranger into the interior of Honduras, under pretense of the secret purchase of a gold mine of enormous value, supposed to have been discov- ered by faithful and ignorant Indians, whose tra- ditional religious faith had caused them to THE PASSING SHOIV 9 acquaint Hope alone with its existence. The object was the murder and robbery of the inno- cent messenger. A chance copy of a leading American paper, recalling old acquaintances, falling in his way, Hope, with plausible and guarded letters painted this great “Treasure Trove,” to several persons connected with a leading American capitalist, whom he had distantly known in his boyhood. On account of the lack of banking facilities, the persons addressed were urged to send a large sum of American gold in care of a trusted agent, who must arrive “secretly.” The most minute directions, and a glowing description of the “bonanza,” accompanied these plausible epistles. It is not strange that the chase of the “Yellow Curse of the World” and the tempting mystery of the project, caused several northern million- aires, senators and capitalists, to dispatch a trusty agent to Truxillo to meet Adrian Hope, after some delay, due to a necessarily slow cor- respondence. The artful wiles of the schemer were so over- laid with minute directions, that they finally excited some little suspicion. Too much stress 10 THE PASSING SHOW was laid on “coming alone) ” “come with no servant,” “/ will guide your agent to the hidden treasure,” “be absolutely silent as to all,” “The money must be brought in ready gold" Hope cautiously urged, “as banks are almost unknown here.” “Let but one person come,” the tempter continued, and “let him bring only a light fowl- ing piece , as pistols and rifles are not permitted in this country.” The coterie of northern capitalists addressed were accustomed to send trusty men over the whole globe on their vast projects. They finally agreed with one of their number, a western millionaire miner, then a Senator of the United States. “ Gentlemen !” said he, “we can send a ship load of money quickly over from New Orleans to Truxillo, if it proves necessary. I’ll pick you out a man to go down, who will not be deceived in this mine. I don’t like to send a fortune in the gold we have in exchange for what we are to get, until I know that the mine is there , and the purchase money will be safely guarded. I don ’ t care to risk this venture on the judgment of any one man, either; will you select a couple more to go over there? Three heads are better than one. Three THE PASSING SHOW 11 Americans together in case of sickness or trouble can aid each other. There is yellow fever, a rough wilderness, and many unknown dangers to meet. I have travelled over Mexico. I am not a “literary man,” but I know that Cortez buried the flower of his army on his disastrous trip to the trackless interior of this same Honduras. I know also that several generations of the helpless natives died under the lash during the Spanish occupation, vainly dredging for gold in the gorges and streams of this tropic country. Now, I am a practical man. I have searched all records fruitlessly for any great harvest of gold, past or present, which has been reaped down there. “Of twenty different modern mining enterprises attempted in Honduras, I know that only one has paid anything, and that there have been many disastrous failures. Let us proceed cautiously. I am a bad Senator, but I am a pretty good miner.” A volley of compliments attested the general disbelief of the milionaire’s verdict as to his Senatorial usefulness. His sensible business suggestions were at once adopted unanimously. In three weeks, while Adrian Hope smiled in 12 THE PASSING SHOW glee at the apparent success of his diabolical plan, three resolute men left New Orleans quietly to meet the guardian of the “Treasure Vault” of the mountain gnomes, in the terrific gorges of the summit range of Honduras. Well outfitted and heavily armed, provided with the best letters and credentials, they were ready to plunge into that great quadrangle four hundred miles square, which on the eastern slopes of Spanish Hon- duras, encloses a region as wild to-day as dark- est Africa. Gloomy forests, sluggish rivers and wastes, rocky jaguar haunted mountains, and unexplored tropical jungles, lay between the dreamy old Spanish seaport of Truxillo, and this fabulous hidden mine. An ominous farewell at New Orleans put the party on their guard. “Look out for yourselves! Gentlemen!” said an old merchant of the Span- ish main., “Many go, but few return !” A cipher telegram preceded them, as follows: “Agent Coming.” The spider of Truxillo rejoiced! He hoped soon to slip away to Europe by the west coast, enriched by the robbery of the murdered agent. THE PASSING SHOW 13 It was with undisguised astonishment that Ad- rian Hope met on the strand at Truxillo the par- ty of three. One was an old frontier railroad engi- neer, who had faced the Sioux and Cheyennes on the Union Pacific Railroad in the days of ’6 5 to *68; another, a resolute young New Yorker; the third, a western man accustomed to the ways of the frontier ard the Spanish-American people of the baser sort. His army experience had given him a knowledge of the worst, as well as the better classes of Spanish-American citizens. Plope’s uneasy welcome, and evident surprise at the arrival of three experienced persons, in- stead of one helpless agent, caused him to drop the suspicious remark: “Why, I thought only one would cqme ! It is now so much more diffi- cult!” The splendid outfit of the party aston- ished him, but the presence of a number of heavy iron-bound boxes, excited him. Therein was probably the long coveted gold; his ultimate plunder. They really contained cartridges, med- icines and valuable small supplies. To delay, to weary out, and to separate the pajty; to get one (the most patient and untiring) alone in the interior, with that supposed treasure, 14 THE PASSING SHOIV was his second plan. Force was useless ! Treach- ery must win the prize ! The sequel wa-s to be, a man murdered; killed by cowardly treachery, and lying silent in some thicket, to be devoured by the forest beasts. Hope, with the gold, pushing further into the interior, guided by a few scoun- drels selected by him, would reach the Pacific, and thence gain Europe by Panama from the west. A plausible letter as to a sudden death by fever, or accident, written later, would delay immediate pursuit; as the party well knew that letters could not reach them for several months, if they pierced the interior. As for American diplomatic inquiry, it is a mere farce at best! Walter Seymour (the western man), and his two companions received from one or two dis- couraged American wanderers, several grave expressions of remonstrance and discouragement as to going into the dangerous interior alone under the guidance of Adrian Hope. Yet, loyal to their orders, they kept silence, and two weeks after their arrival with several villainous looking natives and a muleteer, they left Truxillo for the far towering summits of the great Cordillera ridges. The passing show 15 Fifteen days plunging through forests, and dragging over rocky range piled on range, swim- ming or rafting dangerous rivers, and toiling on diminutive mules over, arid wastes, brought the party to a remote Indian village in a terrific gorge of the Mangalile river. This was the end; beyond this there was “No Thoroughfare. ” In these gloomy morasses and trackless jungles the American party lost faith in the whole enter- prise, and worn and harassed, rested dejectedly in a mud hovel in the lonely hills. Hope, silent, morose, and plotting, was busied daily with his budding scheme to separate the three suspicious explorers, for he really had no mine to show! At Arinal, (a straggling town), some hundred miles from the dismal eyrie which Hope an- nounced as the end of the journey, much of the valuable heavy baggage had been left in charge of a so-called Alcalde; a secret confederate of the villainous Hope. The heavy boxes (really containing reserve cartridges for the various arms of the expedition) were left in a clumsily barred and locked store room, with other rare and costly goods; a rich 1G THE PASSING SHOIV future plunder for the two scoundrels who quietly conspired, while the now distrustful Americans watched night and day for any overt treachery; sleeping with their arms belted on. Their excuse for this caution, was the thousand varied forms of birds and beasts, the huge serpents and mani- fest dangers of the horrid path. This was suffi- cient for their active armed neutrality. Hope, (with secret dismay) noted the unerring aim of the Americans in their daily hunting ex- ploits, and realized that stratagem, not force, must be used to finally secure the plunder of their persons, as well as the presumed money in the boxes. He would naturally be the first victim of an open fight. He did not realize yet that a prudential silence had been agreed on between the three now doubtful travelers. His mind was busied with a scheme for some surprise or massacre, where the razor edged machete, wielded by creeping, cowardly, bare footed, desperate ruffians might easily dispatch the disgusted explorers, while sleeping, or un- armed. In two weeks after the arrival at the dirty Indian village in Mangalile, the fearful chasm of The passing show 17 the river was thoroughly traversed. The famed mine, located on the summit of a terrific peak, almost perpendicular in its steepness, was finally reached, fle had now no further excuse for delay. Notwithstanding every effort to divide or in- volve the party up to this time, Hope, with the three resolute Americans, now irritated beyond patience, was forced to finally exhibit a trivial hole, sunk only a few feet, and evidently scratched in the red quartz hillside, after the arrival of the party. If it was dug before , it was only intended to be the grave of one agent lured into the lonely nest of mountain villains. It was located twelve miles from the town, on a peak towering in a sort of “Wolf’s Glen.” Hope little realized that the party of explorers, had keenly studied every chance word and list- ened to much gossip. They had conferred with members of all classes, only to find that not a hundred dollars worth of gold had been found in the vicinity in fifty years. There was no gold, ore, ledge or sign of metal in sight. No sign of any. Seymour, listening to all chatter, con- cealed his knowledge of Spanish. 18 THE PASSING SH01V Standing two thousand feet above the almost impassible gorge of the dangerous river cut up with enormous granite ledges, the three strangers realized that they had been swindled and duped. They were on a fool’s chase. The “faithful In- dians” had not been found. The ore, or gold bearing quartz was not forthcoming. Even the brutal peasants of the little barbaric hamlet laughed to scorn the idea of “Gold,” and pointed significantly to their foreheads. These rude signs indicated “Fool,” or “Lunatic.” It was near daylight the next day when the party, threading the dangerous trail arrived exhausted at their mud hovel; worn and fever wearied, tired and disgusted, they were all em- bittered. Life, temper, and mutual confidence were sorely tried by a sudden quarrel between the three Americans, fomented and aided by Hope. A portion of the prospecting outfit was abandoned at the town, there being no further use, or value in it. Dragged over the beetling precipices of Honduras, these now useless articles represented their weight in silver. Three days later, in mistrust and mutual accu- sation, the Americans unwisely separated. Two THE PASSING SHOW 19 of them determined to reach the coast by a route supposed to avoid some of the awful miseries of the dreaded fifteen days backward march. On the exact lines where fearless Hernando Cortez dug the lonely graves of three hundred match- less veterans, Walter Seymour moodily prepared to return alone with Hope. Sick, desperate, and worn out he only dreamed of reaching the sea, even if yellow-fever haunted Truxillo was the only goal. To stay alone was to fall a prey to violence or sickness. To retrace his steps with Hope, was to face possible treachery and a hardship threat- ening journey. Pride kept him silent! Hope, silently revolving his now easier plan of plunder or murder, added to his concealed resentment against Seymour, the bitterness due to Seymour’s indignant verdict that the mine was a “fraud and a swindle.” Hope well knew that to Seymour was entrusted by the others the duty of removing to Truxillo the valuable deposit left at Arinal. For prudential reason, Seymour (thrown on his own resources), decided not to quarrel openly with Hope, after the departure of his companions, who cut loose for the “Sea,” eager to save their lives. 20 THE PASSING SHOW It was a “Sauve qui peut !” Hope, acclimated and used to the life of a human beast, a fugitive and world wanderer, by pushing on to the west could now easily gain the Pacific ocean. He had some hundreds of dollars of “advances.” He had friendly fellow scoundrels everywhere on the way. Seymour, who had successfully dissembled his very fair knowledge of Spanish allowed Hope to be the daily interpreter. Almost in open rupture, Seymour and Hope rode out of Mangalile towards the sea. Seymour (girding on his cartridge belt, with its heavy knife and a Texas Lone Star revolver) swore to himself that either he would return to wife and friends, or that Adrian Hope should never live a moment after the first overt act. Hope, (plotting for the robbery of the deposit at Arinal) mentally decided to permit Seymour to pass that point unharmed, towards the sea. This was necessary in order to gain quiet possession of the valuables. A quasi official report that Seymour had obtained the goods and safely gone on towards Truxillo, would smother or delay any later inquiry after his death by his American friends. If Walter Seymour should be lost or die on THE PASSING SHOJV 21 the last two-thirds of the road, Hope, (by a skill- ful quarrel) leaving there apparently to pursue his march alone, could prove an easy “Honduras alibi.” The fearful sufferings of the party, alone would explain the death of Seymour. Hope knew well that the others wou/d probably leave the hated land at the nearest little seaport they could reach, trusting to Seymour to close up the affairs of the disastrous expedition, and make his own way out northward to the United States with the last news of the failure. There was a convulsion in Hope’s nerves, however, when he realized on the first day’s return march, that Seymour rode always behind him, and only allowed four or five paces between them. On one or two occasions, the single muleteer, (armed with his four foot naked heavy broadsword) bareheaded, and clad only in a single garment and rawhide sandals, tried to drop be - hind Seymour! In vain! The veteran traveler quietly halted and calmly pointed to the front. That frontier pistol seemed to grow larger in Hope’s eyes, and he noticed that Seymour had lashed it around his neck and shoulder with a heavy cord. 22 THE PASSING SHOW This useful hint was not lost on the renegade. Five days after the sullen parting in the hills, Seymour rode into Arinal behind Hope. At night in their little hammocks (swung side by side) the soldier and the scoundrel dozed from time to time. Both were on guard. No word of quar- rel had yet been uttered, though cold aversion reigned between them, while toiling under a blinding tropic sun, or dragging the almost fall- ing mules over stony ridges. Hope, (cowed by the fact that Seymour never left him beyond a five pace distance) silently re- solved: “I must wait for more help! After Arinal, he is mine!” Even this crafty scoundrel did not find the gold he had hoped for. Sey- mour’s possessions were however ample to tem- porarily enrich his slayer, and enable him to leave the land. Adrian Hope realized that his sly schemes had all failed, and that he might even be bitterly pursued by powerful enemies, who would resent this cold blooded and useless swindle. In the old mud adobe hovel, where the Al- calde of Arinal lived, Seymour threw himself on a hammock, determined to rest, yet watch. For THE PASSING SHOJV 23 two months he had had no letter from friend or wife. His valuable time was lost and his health was now shattered by the terrible sun “Guarro,” or incipient fever of Honduras. Seymour was now coldly desperate. The natives who accompanied the party to the interior, had all been artfully scattered. Ramon Padilla, (thief and spy) had been selected by Hope to guide the two on their return. Walter Seymour, — resting thankfully once more under the poor shade of even a thatched roof — revolved two points in his favor. One was, his concealed knowledge of Spanish, and the other, Hope’s evident personal fear. For Seymour knew that Hope felt that (unless victorious by sur- prise) he must join his victim on a trip “over the dark river. ” Open attack was too dangerous. “If I could only get one or two decent men here,” thought Seymour. Alas! There was not an American, or a respectable foreigner within two hundred miles. “I will have to rest by day, watch by night, and get a wink now and then in the saddle. Can I last it out for ten days?” Seymour was very gloomy. The presence of some decent 24 THE PASSING SHOW humble villagers at Arinal would probably pre- vent any open violence at that place. Lazy Hope objected not to a rest of a day and a half. Seymour quietly ate with the dirty circle of mestizos, drinking only water from the earthen crock common to all. Hope, fearing some overt act which might cause Seymour to throw him- self openly on the official protection of the Al- calde, guarded a watchful silence. Seymour checked off the various articles left in store, in- cluding the fateful coveted boxes. All the “prohibited goods” had been “passed” into the country unopened, to avoid custom house confis- cation. A few dollars effected that. “We will have to have more mules for those goods,” sullenly said Hope, as the first afternoon darkened to a night of danger. “All right !” said Seymour, “you get them !” “But we must have money,” Hope urged. Sey- mour, whose depleted saddle-bags now contained only forty-seven Mexican silver dollars, said sharply: “All right! I'll pay you at Truxillo!” His drafts were there! Hope was nonplussed. Seymour lay smiling, watching through clouds of pipe smoke. The passing show 25 Hope and the Alcalde conferred and wondered what the outcome would be. Even the Hon- duranean has a pride in being faithful while in the employ of the stranger. “If I can get two or three decent muleteers here they may wish to see the ocean town of Truxillo, and stimulated by reward, guide me safely there,” the American concluded. Seymour sauntered out to cogitate alone in the blazing sunlight. Keeping his eye fixed on the doubtful Alcalde, and the known rogue, he was careful to let no one approach him too closely. He waited until Hope shambled out after a twenty minutes’ con- ference with his comrade. “I can get the goods taken on a half day's march toward Olanchito, and I have a letter from the Alcalde for fresh mules at ‘Chorrera Rancho,’ between here and Olanchito,” said he. “The Alcalde’s mules must come back from Chorrera.” “Then we only make half a day’s march to- morrow?” Seymour rejoined. “That’s it!” said Hope. “It’s not satisfactory!” Seymour remarked, decidedly. “I will not leave here!” 26 THE PASSING SHOIV “All right!” said Hope, “I will then take my own riding mule and push on alone.” They parted without a word. Seymour moodily re-entered the now darkened house. The shades of evening were gathering outside and he dared not longer linger there. He might be surprised. “I will keep near Hope where I can fix him anyway!” resolved the refreshed and desperate man. If ever Walter Seymour prayed for his wits, it was when he entered the low door of that adobe. “I suppose they’ll try it on here. Well! I’ll get Hope anyway. It’s my last chance.” Around the table, he moodily munched a little jerked beef, black coffee, and cassava, which wooden fibred bread served as a meal. The Alcalde with voluble Castilian politeness, explained the necessity of the scheme proposed by Hope. Hope guarded a stubborn silence. “All right!” said Seymour in English, “Tell him I’ll go on in the morning !” Hope interpreted the remark. Several frowsy women and babes of all ages crowded the room where five or six hammocks hung on the walls, ready for slinging. The centipede, snake*, and tarantula were thus THE PASSING SHOW 27 foiled, temporarily, by a Mahomet like suspen- sion between ceiling and floor. Seymour — busied with his pipe — dozed while the motley throng filled the one room with open doors, which was the whole house, save two small chambers at one end; where in one an old woman, sick to death, lay wheezing in the last gasps. In the other, an assortment of babes and children of both sexes lay around on mangy rawhides spread on the floor. The stifling heat choked friend and foe. “Wake me at dawn!” said Seymour. Hope merely nodded. In an hour all was silent. One light in the sick woman’s mud walled chamber, cast a faint gleam through the room, where wild hogs, and wilder dogs, roamed at will. Tied to the rough table leg, two game Spanish cocks kept up a volunteered battle late into the night. Hope in his hammock lay fully dressed, counterfeiting sleep. Seymour, weapons at hand, kept a discreet silence, praying that he might not fall asleep before dawn. In two or three hours, several dark, shrouded forms, quietly slipped out of the back rooms. Seymour lay quietly. 28 THE PASSING SHOIV It was the women leaving. “Ah! it’s coming — to-night!” the soldier wearily said to himself. His fighting blood was up. “There’s no better time than when a man is half mad, to battle for his life— yet— my wife !” He dozed on, until a sudden movement of Hope in his hammock awoke him. In the two open doors of the hovel were stand- ing four half-naked men, each with a machete girded on. “What’s wanted?” said Seymour, springing up pistol in hand. “Be quiet!” grumbled Hope, “this is their way.” “All right !” cheerfully remarked Seymour, as he swung out of his hammock and seated him- self against the solid wall, lighting his pipe. “What’s the matter?” Hope queried. “This is a custom of the country. No one locks a door. The climate is too hot.” “Very bad custom! Very impolite!” Sey- mour remarked. In a moment the Alcalde — rolling out of his hammock — was whispering in his mongrel Span- ish to Hope. THE PASSING SHOW 20 “What does he say?” sternly said Seymour. “Those men were only some men going out to hunt for stray cattle. Don’t make a row here!” Hope retorted with insolence. “It’s half past three now,” said Seymour, “in an hour and a half, we’ll be on our way. I don’t care to sleep any more.” “Then I’ll get up too!” said the lazy villain. “Suit yourself!” replied Seymour. The Alcalde and Hope, with a bottle of native rum, made merry at the little wooden table, while the four or five other hammock denizens snored in unison. The Alcalde offered the gen- erous and fiery fluid. “Thanks! No!” said Seymour. “I’m on duty,” he thought. Neither of the unarmed scoundrels dared leave the room. Seymour — now thoroughly awake — watched the precious pair. At last a clear thought, born of Apache dodg- ing and the strange lore of the Plains, flashed over Seymour’s brain. There is a self-protec- tive action of mind, nerve, and body in deadly peril. His nerves were thrilling! “They have sent these fellows on ahead to 30 THE PASSING SHOW waylay me; for when the goods are loaded, and I am officially gone, they can act at once.” In Seymour’s baggage left behind at Arinal, was a magnificent English gun, packed in an oblong case. The right barrel was a twelve- bore shot gun, and the left a half-inch rifle, good at five hundred yards. Carelessly unlocking this case, Seymour put it together and loaded it; slipping a dozen ball cartridges for the left, and buckshot for the right bore, in his canvas shooting coat. He blessed the London lock, which had defied everything but open destruction. Placing the loaded gun behind him, Seymour deliberately began to count numbers to keep from sleeping. Twice did he turn one thousand before the pair of rogues had finished their work. Hope was inscribing a letter. At nine hundred, of the third thousand, a sleazy cotton-gowned thing — in the semblance of woman,— placed solemnly some “frijoles,” stewed meat and coffee on the table. Seymour rubbed his eyes. There was coarse bread on the table. The woman had returned; yet no one had left the room. Swallowing a cup of coffee, and thrusting four or five rolls in THE PASSING SHOW 31 his shooting coat, Seymour calmly said, “I am ready!” For the faint flush of day was peeping in the east. “I think I’ll linger till it’s light enough to shoot — anyway,” thought Seymour. Refreshed with rest, he stood in front of the Alcalde and Hope, and with florid compliment, interpreted by Hope, paid a Hotel de Meurice price for the squalid en- tertainment. Strangely enough, the goods were blithely packed on several mules, and Seymour delaying till Hope was mounted, walked out of the hotel and, forty yards from any one, mounted his animal. In a moment he saw that the weakest and poorest mule had been saddled for him. Hope was on the best, “See here, Hope!” said Seymour, “You have got my mule! This one can’t carry me!” After a few words Seymour dismounted. “Get off that mule and have these saddles changed!” Hope caught the flash of Seymour’s eye. Strolling artlessly around, Seymour caught the expression, (in Spanish) from the Alcalde: “That’s all right; they’ll fix him at the river! Send Jos& back and I will come to you. Be careful! He is dangerous!” 32 THE PASSING SHOW Neither villain knew that Seymour had taken quiet notes by compass and aneroid of the road; which he had measured the ten days between Arinal and Truxillo, and that he was an amateur astronomer of some practical experience. With a wave of the hand, Seymour, waiting till Hope and his myrmidons were well in ad- vance, rode fifty paces behind the train, leaving the Alcalde, hat in hand. For an hour the train plodded through a jungle where the huge orioles flashed from tree to tree; and enormous crimson and green macaws darted and wheeled around the highest kings of the forest. The armadillo scuttled away in scaly armor across the path, and, as morning dawned, the parrots, monkeys and wild turkeys mingled their screams and chatter with the snort of the wild boar. Several suspicious halts to arrange baggage gave Seymour a chance, twenty yards in rear, to drop a huge bird from a tree top with his rifle barrel, to the amazement of the train of villains. Quickly re-loading, Seymour watched the throng before him. The four night visitors had joined the cortege ! THE PASSING SHOIV 33 “We must be near the “Aguan,” Seymour mused; watching with cat-like eye, the knot before him. He had dropped all semblance of conversation with Hope. Soon the mighty, lonely tropic river was reached, and to Sey- mour’s delight, a long oblique, gravelly ford was seen, and clear banks, with room for a race and free movement. At five hundred yards from the ford, one of the leading foot-men, a tall, impudent, half naked wretch, brandishing a heavy machete sword, with which he had been idly lopping off stray branches, whooped loudly. From several hid- ing places on the bank, three or four similar scoundrels emerged. Quick as thought Seymour spurred his fresh mule alongside of Hope’s jaded animal. “What’s all this?” said he, sharply. “These men will help us over the ford !” sneak- ingly remarked Hope. “Sweethearts and wives !” thought Seymour, “I must keep out of these fellows’ grasp. Here’s the appointed place!” Swinging round his revolver belt to the front, he said to Hope: “Look out for your self! I’ll get over! Where’s the ford?” 34 THE PASSING SHOIV “There !” said Hope, with a curious smile, as several of the natives began to force the laden mules in, and dragged them over. Seymour was near enough to Hope to see the yellow gleam of his dirty tiger-eyes. “Go in!” said Hope, as there was no, excuse to linger. “After you !” politely remarked Seymour. “They can’t shoot unless they hurt us both,” Seymour thought, and resolved to see Hope first in the river. With judgment, Seymour noted a bar quarter- ing the river below. When Hope was half way in, Seymour, pushing his well rested mule into the current, and balancing his gun across the saddle, straggled over to the other side, two hundred yards below the party. Frantic yells attested his change of plan. Seymour guiding easily his mule down stream, was on the strand, laughing and shaking his wet clothes, as the insolent wretch watching for him, brandishing a naked sword, ran down the beach. When within twenty yards, out came the Texas Lone Star revolver with an ominous click. “Halt!” rang out, as Seymour drew a bead on THE PASSING SHOlV 35 the would be assassin. The machete dropped, and the yellow tiger slunk away. “ What’s the matter?” howled Hope, as he forced his tired mule along the pebbly beach. “It means,” said Seymour, “that I can take care of myself! — You take this riffraff ahead in the road! I don’t know the way I don’t wish them to speak to me !” And Adrian Hope, with an ugly twitching between his shoulders, knew that five yards behind him, on a fresh animal, a desperate man rode, who had selected the spot where a forty- five calibre baH would do the most good. And onward the motley crew toiled under the growing daylight. Murder for once had missed its mark. PART II. AT BAY AT THE CHORRERA RANCH. THE MIDNIGHT FOREST. The trail led away from the rocky shores of the broad Aguan River, and lost itself in a tangled steaming forest of logwood and cactus. Far bevjnd the low hills rose the mighty scarped summits of the Sierras of Honduras. Their gashed and seamed rocky sides were patched here and there with straggling stone-pines. The screaming parrots soon ceased their discordant cries. The sun, a great flaming yellow disk, leaped over the far mountain ridge, and the breath of morning fluttered faint and low. Dry and dusty was the path, and even the mailed lizards crawled beneath the poisonous vines, and panted idly in the shade. 36 THE PASSING SHOW 37 Wearily crawled on the little caravan. Pa- dilla,— villain and spy — muttered a curse now and then, as he replaced a lost sandal. The pack mules nodded and swayed under the heavy loads. At Padilla’s side marched the “mozos” from Arinal, one, the murderous bearer of the fateful letter, now and then flicking off the head of a weed with his naked machete, and scowling at the tall form of Seymour, riding behind. Hope — ignorant of Seymour’s knowledge of the full design — lolled upon his mule in sullen silence. What dreams of future villainy, what memories of past deeds, lurked in the tangled brain warp of that wicked bullet head. Now and then, without a word, he extended a water canteen to his silent companion, who kept two or three yards in Hope’s rear. Sey- mour’s mind reverted to his old jaunts over the plains of Arizona, to the lonely rides on the yellow sands of the Sahara, and weary dragging marches over the Bad Lands of Texas. The flaming, scorching sunbeams parched the ground, and rose in shimmering reflection from the pow- dery sand. It was with the utmost exertion that Seymour kept awake. Even the knowledge of 38 THE PASSING SHOW imminent danger failed to drive away the deadly fatigue born of excitement and a sleepless night. Pipe in mouth — with the trusty Lone Star re- volver still slipped well to the front — he noted every bend of the trail, now almost forest hid- den, every land mark, and mentally revolved a plan of escape if suddenly attacked. Bitterly, bitterly did he rue the separation from his angry comrades. To reach Olanchito twenty-five miles away, if pursued by numbers, seemed to offer superhuman obstacles. No water attainable, and an unknown road, with a riding animal not able to pass a walk. The jaded mule had made great exertions in swimming the river, and already showed signs of fatigue. Every half hour the black browed rogues in front had to re-make the packs of the baggage animals. Seymour kept steadily in the rear, with his eye on the rounded shoulders of Hope, wondering if some present crisis would make that villain’s back a target. 