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 THE MYSTERY OF
 THE BARRANCA

 BY

 HERMAN WHITAKER

 AUTHOR OF
 "THE PLANTER" AND
 "THE SETTLER"

 NEW YORK AND LONDON
 HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
 MCMXIII




 COPYRIGHT 1913 BY HARPER & BROTHERS

 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
 PUBLISHED FEBRUARY 1913




 [Illustration: [See page 248
 SEYD LIFTED FRANCESCA AND LEAPED]




"_To Vera, my daughter and gentle collaborator, whose nimble fingers
lightened the load of many labors, this book is lovingly dedicated._"




THE MYSTERY OF THE BARRANCA




CHAPTER I


"Oh Bob, just look at them!"

Leaning down from his perch on the sacked mining tools which formed the
apex of their baggage, Billy Thornton punched his companion in the back
to call his attention to a scene which had spread a blaze of humor over
his own rich crop of freckles.

As a matter of fact, the spectacle of two men fondly embracing can
always be depended on to stir the crude Anglo-Saxon sense of humor. In
this case it was rendered still more ridiculous by age and portliness,
but two years' wandering through interior Mexico had accustomed
Thornton's comrade, Robert Seyd, to the sight. After a careless glance
he resumed his contemplation of the crowd that thronged the little
station. Exhibiting every variety of Mexican costume, from the plain
white blanket of the peons to the leather suits of the rancheros and
the hacendados, or owners of estates, it was as picturesque and
brilliant in color and movement as anything in a musical extravaganza.
The European clothing of a young girl who presently stepped out of the
ticket office emphasized the theatrical flavor by its vivid contrast.
She might easily have been the captive heroine among bandits, and the
thought actually occurred to Billy. While she paused to call her dog, a
huge Siberian wolf hound, she was hidden from Seyd's view by the stout
embracers. Therefore it was to the dog that he applied Billy's remark at
first.

"Isn't she a peach?"

She seemed the finest of her race that he had ever seen, and Seyd was
just about to say that she carried herself like a "perfect lady" when
the dissolution of the aforesaid embrace brought the girl into view. He
stopped--with a small gasp that testified to his astonishment at her
unusual type.

Although slender for her years--about two and twenty--her throat and
bust were rounded in perfect development. The clear olive complexion
was undoubtedly Spanish, yet her face lacked the firm line that hardens
with the years. Perhaps some strain of Aztec blood--from which the
Spanish-Mexican is never free--had helped to soften her features,
but this would not account for their pleasing irregularity. A bit
_retrousee_, the small nose with its well-defined nostrils patterned
after the Celtic. Had Seyd known it, the face in its entirety--colors
and soft contours--is to be found to this day among the descendants of
the sailors who escaped from the wreck of the Spanish Armada on the west
coast of Ireland. Pretty and unusual as she was, her greatest charm
centered in the large black eyes that shone amid her clear pallor,
conveying in broad day the tantalizing mystery of a face seen for an
instant through a warm gloaming. In the moment that he caught their
velvet glance Seyd received an impression of vivacious intelligence
altogether foreign in his experience of Mexican women.

As she was standing only a few feet away, he knew that she must have
heard Billy's remark; but, counting on her probable ignorance of
English, he did not hesitate to answer. "Pretty? Well, I should
say--pretty enough to marry. The trouble is that in this country the
ugliness of the grown woman seems to be in inverse ratio to her girlish
beauty. Bet you the fattest hacendado is her father. And she'll give him
pounds at half his age."

"Maybe," Billy answered. "Yet I'd be almost willing to take the chance."

As the girl had turned just then to look at the approaching train
neither of them caught the sudden dark flash, supreme disdain, that drew
an otherwise quite tender red mouth into a scarlet line. But for the dog
they would never have been a whit the wiser. For as the engine came
hissing along the platform the brute sprang and crouched on the tracks,
furiously snarling, ready for a spring at the headlight, which it
evidently took for the Adam's apple of the strange monster. The train
still being under way, the poor beast's faith would have cost it its
life but for Seyd's quickness. In the moment that the girl's cry rang
out, and in less time than it took Billy to slide from his perch, Seyd
leaped down, threw the dog aside, and saved himself by a spring to the
cow-catcher.

"Oh, you fool! You crazy idiot!" While thumping him soundly, Billy ran
on, "To risk your life for a dog--a Mexican's, at that!"

But he stopped dead, blushed till his freckles were extinguished, as the
girl's voice broke in from behind.

"And the Mexican thanks you, sir. It was foolhardy, yes, and dearly as I
love the dog I would not have had you take such a risk. But now that it
is done--accept my thanks." As the stouter of the embracers now came
bustling up, she added in Spanish, "My uncle, senor."

At close range she was even prettier; but, though gratitude had wiped
out the flash of disdain, a vivid memory of his late remarks caused Seyd
to turn with relief to the hacendado. During the delivery of effusive
thanks he had time to cancel a first impression--gained from a rear view
of a gaudy jacket--of a fat tenor in a Spanish opera, for the man's
head and features were cast in a massive mold. His big fleshy nose
jutted out from under heavy brows that overshadowed wide, sagacious
eyes, Indian-brown in color. If the wind and weather of sixty years had
tanned him dark as a peon, it went excellently with his grizzled
mustache. Despite his stoutness and the costume, every fat inch of him
expressed the soldier.

"My cousin, senor."

Having been placed, metaphorically, in possession of all the hacendado's
earthly possessions, Seyd turned to exchange bows with a young man who
had just emerged from the baggage-room--at least he seemed young at the
first glance. A second look showed that the impression was largely due
to a certain trimness of figure which was accentuated by the perfect fit
of a suit of soft-dressed leather. When he raised his felt sombrero the
hair showed thin on his temples. Neither were his poise and
imperturbable manner attributes of youth.

"It was very clever of you, senor."

A slight peculiarity of intonation made Seyd look up. "Jealous," he
thought, yet he was conscious of something else--some feeling too
elusively subtle to be analyzed on the spur of the moment. Suggesting,
as it did, that he had made a "gallery play," the remark roused in him
quick irritation. But had it been possible to frame an answer there was
no time, for just then the familiar cry, "_Vaminos!_" rang out, and the
American conductor hustled uncle, niece, and her dog into the nearest
car.

The entire incident had occupied little more than a moment, and as, a
little bewildered by its rush, Seyd stood looking after the train he
found himself automatically raising his cap in reply to a fluttering
handkerchief.

"You Yankees are certainly very enterprising."

Turning quickly, Seyd met again the glance of subtle hostility. But,
though he felt certain that the remark had been called forth by his
salute, he had no option but to apply it to the mining kit toward which
the other was pointing.

"You are for the mines, senor? In return for your service to my cousin
it is, perhaps, that I can be of assistance--in the hiring of men and
mules?"

While equally quiet and subtle, the patronage in his manner was easier
to meet. Undisturbed, however, when Seyd declined his offer, he
sauntered quietly away.

"_Bueno!_ As you wish."




CHAPTER II


"I'll be with you in a minute, folks."

To appreciate the accent which the American station agent laid on
"folks" it is necessary that one should have been marooned for a couple
of years in a ramshackle Mexican station with only a chocolate-skinned
henchman, or _mozo_, for companion. It asserted at once welcome and
patriotic feeling.

"You know this isn't the old United States," he added, hurrying by.
"These greasers are the limit. Close one eye for half a minute and when
you open it again it's a cinch you'll find the other gone. If they'd
just swipe each other's baggage it wouldn't be so bad. But they steal
their own, then sue the company for the loss. Here, you sons of burros,
drop that!" with which he dived headlong into the midst of the free
fight that a crowd of _cargadores_, or porters, were waging over the
up train baggage.

Taking warning, the two returned to their own baggage. As they waited,
talking, these two closest of friends offered a fairly startling
contrast. In the case of Seyd, a graduate in mining of California
University, years of study and strain had tooled his face till his
aggressive nose stood boldly out above hollowed cheeks and black-gray
eyes. A trifle over medium height, the hundred and sixty pounds he ought
to have carried had been reduced a good ten pounds by years of
prospecting in Mexico and Arizona. This loss of flesh, however, had been
more than made up by a corresponding gain in muscle. Moving a few paces
around the baggage, he exhibited the easy, steady movement that comes
from the perfect co-ordination of nerve and muscle. His feet seemed
first to feel, then to take hold of the ground. In fact, his entire
appearance conveyed the impression of force under perfect control, ready
to be turned loose in any direction.

Shorter than Seyd by nearly half a foot, Billy Thornton, on the other
hand, was red where the other was dark, loquacious instead of
thoughtful. From his fiery shock of red hair and undergrowths of red
stubble to his slangy college utterance he proved the theory of the
attraction of opposites. Bosom friends at college, it had always been
understood between them that when either got his "hunch" the other
should be called in to share it. And as the luck--in the shape of a rich
copper mine--had come first to Seyd, he had immediately wired for Billy.
They were talking it over, as they so often before had done, when the
agent returned.

"Why--you're the fellow that was down here last fall, ain't you?" he
asked, offering his hand. "Didn't recognize you at first. You don't mean
to say that you have denounced--"

"--The Santa Gertrudis prospect?" Seyd nodded. "He means the opposition
I told you we might expect." He answered Billy's look of inquiry.

"Opposition!" The agent spluttered. "That's one word for it. But since
you're so consarnedly cool about it, mister, let me tell you that this
makes the eleventh time that mine has been denounced, and so far nobody
has succeeded in holding it." Looking at Billy, probably as being the
more impressionable, he ran on: "The first five were Mex and as there
were no pesky foreign consuls to complicate the case with bothersome
inquiries, they simply vanished. One by one they came, hit the trail out
there in a cloud of dust, and were never seen again.

"After them came the Dutchman, a big fat fellow, obstinate as one of his
own mules, and a scrapper. For a while it looked as though he'd make
good--might have, perhaps, if he hadn't taken to using his dynamite box
for a pillow. You see, his peons used to steal the sticks to fish, and
so many of them blew themselves into kingdom come that he was always
running shy on labor. So, as I say, he used the box for a pillow till it
went off one night and distributed him all over the Barranca de
Guerrero. Just how it came about of course nobody knew, nor cared, and
they never did find a piece big enough to warrant an inquest. It just
went as accidental, and he'd scarcely, so to say, stopped raining before
a Frenchman jumped the claim. But he only lasted for a couple of days,
landed back here within a week, and jumped the up train without a word.

"Last came the English Johnnies, two of 'em, the real 'haw, haw' boys;
no end of style to them and their outfit. As they had hosts of friends
up Mexico City, it would never have done to use harsh measures. But if
the Johnnies had influence of one sort, Don Luis--he's the landowner,
you know--had it to burn of another. Not only did he gain a general's
commission during the revolutionary wars, but he's also a member of
the Mexican Congress, so close to the government that he needs only
to wink to get what he wants. So just about the time the Johnnies had
finished development work and begun to deliver ore out here at the
railroad--presto! freights went up, prices went down, till they'd wiped
out the last cent of profit. Out go the Johnnies--enter you." With real
earnestness he concluded: "Of course, there's nothing I'd like better
than to have you for neighbors. It ain't so damn lively here. But I'd
hate to see you killed. Take my advice, and quit."

He had addressed himself principally to Billy. But instead of
discouragement, impish delight illumined the latter's freckles.

"A full-sized general with the whole Mexican government behind him?
Bully! I never expected anything half so good. But, say! If the mine is
so rich why don't the old cock work it himself instead of leaving it to
be denounced by any old tramp?"

"Because he don't have to. He has more money now than he ever can use.
He is worth half a million in cattle alone. And he's your old-fashioned
sort that hate the very thought of change. By the way, he just left on
the up train, him and his niece."

"What, the girl with the dog?" Billy yelled it. "Didn't you see--no, you
were in the baggage-room. Well, he's our dearest friend--presented Seyd
here with all of his horses, cattle, lands, and friends. A bit of a
mining claim ought not to cut much ice in an order like that."

"You met them?" The agent shook his head, however, after he had heard
the particulars. "Don't count much on Spanish courtesies. They go no
deeper than the skin. Nice girl, the niece, more like us than Mex,
and she ain't full-blood, for matter of that. Her grandfather was
Irish, a free lance that fought with Diaz during the French war. His
son by a Mexican wife married Don Luis's sister, and when he died she
and her daughter came to keep the old fellow's house, for he's been
a widower these twenty years. Like most of the sprigs of the best
Mexican families, she was educated in Europe, so she speaks three
languages--English, French, and Spanish. Yes, they're nice people from
the old Don down, but lordy! how he hates us gringos. He'll repay you
for the life of the dog--perhaps by saving you alive for a month? But
after that--take my advice, and git."

While he was talking, Seyd had listened with quiet interest. Now he put
in, "We will--just as quickly as we can hire men and burros to pack our
stuff out to the mine."

"Well, if you will--you will." Having thus divested himself of
responsibility, the agent continued: "And here's where your troubles
begin. Though donkey-drivers are as thick as fleas in this town, I doubt
whether you can hire one to go to Santa Gertrudis."

"But the Englishmen?" Seyd questioned. "They must have had help."

"Brought their entire outfit down with them from Mexico City."

After Seyd's rejection of his offer the hacendado had entered into
conversation with a ranchero at the other end of the platform, and,
glancing a little regretfully in his direction, Seyd asked, "Do you
know him?"

The agent nodded. "Sebastien Rocha? Yes, he's a nephew to the General."

"He offered to get me mules."

"He did! Why, man alive! he hates gringos worse than--worse than I hate
Mexicans. _He_ offered you help? I doubt he'll do it when he knows
where you're going." In a last attempt at dissuasion he added, "But if
he doesn't I can't see how you can win out with rates and prices at the
same mark that wiped out the Johnnies."

"That's our business." Seyd laughed. Then, warmed by the honest fellow's
undoubted anxiety, he said, "Do you remember any consignment of brick
that ever came to this station?"

"Sure, three car loads, billed to the Dutchman. But what has that to
do--"

"Just this--that the man had the right idea. Though the mine is the
richest copper proposition I have ever seen--besides carrying gold
values sufficient to cover smelting expenses--it would never pay, as you
say, to ship it out at present prices. But once smelted down into copper
matte there's a fortune in it, as the Dutchman knew. He had already laid
out the foundation of an old-style Welsh smelter, and, though it isn't
very big, we propose to make it stake us to a modern plant."

"So that's your game!" The agent whistled.

"That's our game," Billy confirmed. "If dear cousin over there can only
be persuaded to furnish the mules we will do the rest. Go ask him, Bob."

Seyd hesitated. "I'm afraid that I turned him down rather roughly. Let's
try first ourselves."

For the last half hour their baggage had formed a center of interest
for the porters, mule-drivers, and hackmen who formed the bulk of the
crowd, and the snap of the agent's fingers brought a score of them
running. Each tried to make his calling and election sure by seizing a
piece of baggage. In ten seconds the pile was dissolved and was flowing
off in as many different directions when Seyd's answer to a question
brought all to a sudden halt.

"To the _mina_ Santa Gertrudis."

Crash! the kit of mining tools dropped from the shoulder of the muleteer
who had asked the question, and it had no more than touched earth before
it was buried under the other pieces.

"I told you so," the agent commented, and was going on when a voice
spoke in from their rear.

"What is the trouble, senors?"

The hacendado had approached unnoticed, and, turning quickly, Seyd met
for the third time the equivocal look, now lightened by a touch of
amusement. Suppressing a recurrence of irritation he answered, quietly:
"We wish to go to the hacienda San Nicolas, senor, upon which we have