CHAPTER VI.

ANY PORT IN A STORM.

Gladsden was groping along when he perceived the thorn thicket

changing into a prairie, only slightly interspersed with scrub. At the

same time, though underfoot, the scene cleared, the indications of

atmospheric perturbation increased in number and in ominous importance.

Already the material man triumphed over the romantic one, and our

Englishman thought considerably better of a solid refuge from the

tempest than to come up with the abductor of the Mexican girl. Spite of

its sinister aspect, therefore, his eyes were delighted when he saw,

outlined against the northeastern sky, sullenly blackening, a curiously

shaped tower. In a civilised country he would have ignobly supposed it

a factory shaft.

He knew nothing whatever about this pillar of sunbaked bricks, some

fifty feet in altitude, and, we repeat, cared nothing for the monument

from any point of view but its qualities as a shelter.

Nevertheless, an archaeologist would have given a fortune to have

studied this Nameless Tower, for the aboriginal held it too sacred

for mention in common parlance. It was slightly pyramidal; the north

side, not quite the true meridian, presented a right angle, presumably

to breast and divide the wind of winter prevalent at its erection,

while the rest was rounded trimly. The excellence of the work was

better shown in the cement, not mud, or ground gypsum, having resisted

the weather and particularly the sandy winds themselves, though they

had worn the _dobies_ (_adobes_, sun dried bricks) away deeply in

places, without making airholes through. There was nothing like a

window or depression save these natural pits, until the view reached

the ragged top, where a sort of lantern or cupola, so far as a few

vestiges indicated, had once crowned the edifice; there the floor of

this disappeared chamber had become the roof, and an orifice, perhaps

a loophole enlarged by rot, yawned like a deep set eye beside an arm

of metal terminating in a hook. Presumably the column was a priest's

watchtower, where a sacred fire was preserved in peace times to

imitate the sun. It is known, the ancient Mexicans adored the sun.

A beacon, too, in war times, for the fire and smoke signal code of

the American Indians is too complete to have been the invention of

yesterday. The entrance at the base cut in the rock utilised for nearly

all the foundation. Once blocked up, the watcher, remote from lances,

slingshots, and bowshots, could count the besiegers on this plain, and

telegraph their number to his friends at a distance. The metal arm may

have suspended a pulley block and rope by which provisions and even an

assistant could be hauled up to him.

The natives avoid the tower and its proximity. The white rovers deem

it uncanny, and, having no curiosity to gratify, also leave the spot

untroubled.

Gladsden regarded the tall mass with some uneasiness as he approached

sufficiently near to measure its dimensions and examine the emblems

stained, rather than painted, on the alabaster base stone. A colossal

half human, half bovine head, armed with terrible horns, and showing

long angular teeth in a ferocious grin, was prominent among these

designs.

All was so still that he hesitated to wake the echoes with a more or

less tolerable imitation of the wildcat, to which no response came,

or if from a distance such was raised, the approaching thunderpeals

overcame it.

He boldly plunged into the doorless passage, the way to which had been

to a more wary man suspiciously free from brambles.

A smell of smoke, and even of tobacco smoke, he thought, overcame that

of damp earth.

The only light was that which the doorway admitted, but several plates

of mica, backed rudely with metal, which time and damp had tarnished,

made the interior a little less sombre by their dull reflections. A

ladder of wood, all the fastenings of rawhide, could be distinguished

climbing like a twin snake up the wall; on high a grayish eye seemed to

look unwinkingly down: it was the light oozing in at the gap at the top.

There were red streaks on the wall: paintings in red pipe clay

partially effaced, or mementoes of slaughter, just as the spectator

chose to believe or fancy.

At the moment, the intruder was chiefly interested in the charcoal

under his feet, almost warm, certainly so fresh that he concluded that

others than he chose it for a refuge under stress of weather, no doubt

Master Pepillo's congeners.

Less courageous, he would have shrunk away without pondering over the

nature of his predecessors, possibly regular hosts of this lugubrious

domicile of owl and vulture.

Convinced that he was, for the time being, the sole tenant, Gladsden

resolved, however, to explore the portion unrevealed. To his hands

and feet the ladder presented no obstacle, and he ran up the rough

rattlings swiftly, spite of fatigue. It brought him into a species of

manhole under the roof, close to the gap, and yet shielded from its

draft by a jutting piece of wall.

"This will do," thought he, finding it dry and clean; "I will kill

a brace of birds frightened into stupidity by the oncoming storm,

roast them on that charcoal, and bring them up here for supper. If

the robbers surprise me, I will maintain that I was merely killing

time before the arrival of lieutenant Ignacio, and claim that

gentleman's friendship by reason of my charge from his brother. If I

am interrupted, I shall pull up the ladder, in trust that it will come

free, and sleep here, safe from prowling beasts and serpents."

Suddenly gloom fell on all the landscape, as if a mighty hand had

eclipsed the waning sun. The air was very much more thick and

oppressive, and there were innumerable though faint crepitations like

feeble snappings of electricity. To take the game he spoke of, before

the rainfall drowned them out of their nests, it was needful to hasten.

But he had not descended three rounds of the ladder, before he stopped

all of a piece. From every side, there was the sound of an arrival

of men, both on foot and ahorse. Instinctively he drew himself up,

arranged his form on the floor so as to project only his forehead and

eyes over the ledge where ended the means of ascension, and stared

below.

A number of persons, congratulating themselves on their reunion loudly

with the hyperbolic phrases of the Spanish ceremony of greeting,

clattered into the tower. Presently a light was struck, and a roaring

fire kindled. As the shaft thus became the chimney, Gladsden was forced

to cough, though he smothered the sound as much as possible, hoped, as

did the man who lighted the damp wood, that it would lose no time in

burning up clearly.

When he could protrude his face over the peephole again, he beheld a

dozen persons, swarthy, robust, richly clad as the prairie rovers,

or cattle thieves, armed to the teeth. Cruel of eye, malignant and

ferocious, he judged it highly imprudent to make their acquaintance,

unless Ignacio was the introducer.

Before very many sentences were uttered, every syllable of which came

to his ears direct, the overhearer was not allowed to cherish any error

as to their profession. They were the Gentlemen of the Night, the road

robbers, the scourges of Sonora, belonging to the squad (_cuadrilla_)

of Matasiete, "the Slayer of Seven."

The gestures of the Mexicans grew animated as they sat around the fire,

or leaned against the wall, which the gleams showed to be painted by

the Indians; now and then they clapped their unwashed but jewelled

hands to their weapons--at which moments the witness earnestly prayed

that they would join in a free fight and kill everyone to the last.

They were wrangling over the division of spoil, and perhaps the plunder

would have cost additional lives to those of its original proprietors,

when the advent of someone in authority caused the dispute to cease. It

was their captain.

He was not the heroic figure that Gladsden had imagined fit to rule

such desperadoes. He was tall, but lean, don Quixote with Punch's nose

and chin, rather the fox than the wolf, and though his features were

set stern and his voice was savage, doubts might be conceived as to his

own reliance on his bullying mode of government.

"At your differences again," he cried in a sharp voice, which now and

then ran up shrill and high, spite of himself, more to the resemblance

of the puppet show hero than ever. "_¡Caray!_ Why can't you pull

together like honourable gentlemen of the prairie?"

Two of the brigands began an explanation which their leader cut short

by replying to the less ruffianly of the two:

"Silence! I'll not be bothered by a single word! _¡Viva Dios!_ Here you

are hugging the fire like herders broiling a steak, without a thought

of our common safety. I have had to post sentries myself, and even they

grumbled at such important duty, just because there is a barrel of

water coming down. I tell you I heard a shot in the thicket, which was

not from any of our guns."

Another of the gang spoke up, with whom he judged it meet to argue. It

is due to the estimable captain Matasiete to say that the debater in

question was picking a fragment of buffalo beef out of a huge hollow

grinder, with an unpleasant long knife.

"It is true, Ricardo, that the red men do never approach the Owl Tower;

but what is that? Someday our secret haunt will be surprised and the

Yaquis will fall on us for profaning the old pile. Where is Ignacio?

Where is the lieutenant, I say?"

Neither he nor his brother had arrived, that was the answer, to Mr.

Gladsden's chagrin.

"Then will they get their boots choked with rain," remarked the

commander of these precious rogues, comfortably installing himself at

the fire, in the very manner which he had disapproved of in his men.

There was a flash of lightning. The thunder roared round the tower,

which bravely met the precursor shower, though it was of a drenching

nature to justify the repugnance of the salteadores to standing

sentinel in the open, whilst their luckier comrades enjoyed the shelter

and the fire.

There was silence within the tower: the bandits, drawing a little aloof

from their chief, in respect or lack of sympathy, prepared supper,

priced their property with a view of staking it in card play, or, as

far as two or three were concerned, lounged at the door, watching

the ground smoke after the wetting, and glancing tauntingly at their

brothers on guard, who shone with moisture in the chance ray from the

glorious fire.

The extreme heat around Gladsden, his fatigue and a dulness engendered

by the recent strain on his faculties, forced his eyes to close now and

then, and he was about falling into a torpor, when a commotion below

aroused him.

A man, clanking his huge spurs to rid them of mud and rotten leaves,

drenched almost through his blanket, splashed to the waist, his

tough leather breeches scored by wait-a-bit thorns, swearing at the

dog's weather, wringing out his hair, for he had lost his hat--this

individual, hailed amicably as "our dear Ignacio," but heedless of

the welcome in his vexation and a species of alarm, pushed aside his

comrades flocking round him, and, saluting the captain, basking in the

fire beams, said reproachfully:

"My brother not here? Then ill fares him! There are strangers in the

chaparral!"

"Strangers!" all the voices exclaimed, whilst weapons clattered their

scabbards.

From only this transient glance at don Ignacio, the Englishman made up

his mind that he would not trust him with his life.