Wyndham's Pal

"They are your Excellency's subjects," the other replied with a shrug. "I do my best, but we do not make much progress. Perhaps, with extra drill for two or three months – "

The President laughed. "One must use patience, and in this country one goes slowly. Besides, I do not know if speed is needed." He turned to Wyndham. "Now we will leave you to Don Arnoldo for a few minutes. I promised Señor Villar I would examine the quartermaster's books. There are people who grumble about our military extravagance."

He went off with the others and the officer sat down. Wyndham imagined him a soldier of fortune whose main object was to earn his pay. For all that, it looked as if he had been given a part in the plot and had played up well.

"I expect you find drilling these fellows a tiresome job," Marston said in English.

"It is so," the other agreed. "The President is too ambitious; I think he wastes his money. His people have no military feeling; they are stupid individualists and one cannot give them mass-consciousness. One might make them brigands, but not soldiers. Yet I think they would fight, and after all, the best school for soldiers is war."

"You don't want a war for the sake of drilling your men!" Marston exclaimed, and the officer laughed.

"In my country, we are no longer sentimentalists and I do not pretend to be humanitarian. In the meantime, there is no war, and I am satisfied to draw my pay. Playing with soldiers is expensive, and some of the people grumble, but so far the pay is regular. When it stops I give up my post."

Soon afterwards, the President came back and breakfast was served behind the pillars. For a time he talked to Marston about the soldiers and then remarked: "I understand you do not stop long."

"Our business is nearly finished and we expect to sail very soon," Wyndham replied. "Now our visit to the coast is over, I feel there is much for which we must thank you and Don Ramon."

"We hope your visit has been prosperous enough to bring you back," Villar interposed. "You paid us some duties. All foreigners are not so honest."

"I expect foreigners are something of a nuisance. It is strange, but when one goes abroad one feels justified in breaking rules."

Villar smiled. "This is illogical. Have you broken our rules?"

"Not many; my partner is scrupulous, and if I have given way to temptation, it was not from greediness."

"Then what persuaded you?"

"Perhaps it was British impatience with other people's regulations. In a way, we are rather an arrogant lot, and it flatters our self-importance to know that if we do get into trouble our Consuls will probably save us from the punishment we deserve. You cannot lock up a drunken British sailor without inquiries being made. Don Arnoldo's people are proud of their army, but our fleet is ubiquitous."

"Señor Wyndham is frank, although I doubt if he is just to himself," the President remarked with a twinkle. "I will confess it is sometimes hard to bear with foreigners philosophically, but we make the effort. My country is poor and we need the trade and money they bring. If we do not always love them, we make allowances." He paused and gave Wyndham a thoughtful glance. "There is, however, one thing about which we are firm; no stranger must meddle with our politics. It is our Monroe doctrine and is sternly enforced."

"A good rule," Wyndham agreed. "After all, your people do not need much help from strangers; they have some talent for political intrigue. How many antagonistic parties have you just now?"

"Six," said the President dryly. "They hate each other, but to gain an advantage all will combine against my Government. Moreover, in this country, the vote is not the only way of marking one's disapproval. But we will let this go. You will stop with us to-night and Don Ramon will give you some shooting when the evening gets cool."

Wyndham thought quickly. He had expected something like this and it was obvious that much depended on his reply.

"We ought to go back," he said, with pretended hesitation. "You see, we want to sail as soon as the wind is fair and must get water and stores on board. It might, however, help if you would let us leave port at night. The land-breeze would carry us some distance off the coast before it dropped when the sun got up."

"Very well," said Larrinaga. "I will send the port-captain orders, and if you tell him when you want to sail he will let you go."

Wyndham allowed himself to be persuaded, and soon afterwards the President went off and Larrinaga took them to a shady room. He said dinner would be served at four o'clock and then they would go to a lake and shoot. When he left them Marston looked at Wyndham.

"Why did you agree to stop?"

"I did not think there was much use in refusing. Their urging us to stop was an experiment. If I had insisted on going, they'd have known why."

"Then, d'you imagine they'd keep us by force?" asked Marston.

"It's possible. I studied the President when I made my boast about our British citizenship. He stated they would allow no meddling with their politics, and he meant this. Anyhow, if I'd shown him his suspicions were well-grounded, he would have found a plausible excuse for keeping Columbine in port."

"All the same, we have got to get away," said Marston in a resolute voice.

Wyndham nodded. "That's plain. Well, if we go to bed soon after shooting and are lucky, they won't miss us until somebody brings our early breakfast. I don't know if we can get the horses. Now I'm going to sleep."

He got into a hammock and Marston lay down in a long chair. They had been strenuously occupied all night and did not expect much rest the next. Nobody would bother them until dinner, and although they were disturbed and anxious they went to sleep.

After dinner Larrinaga took them to a lake, where they shot some ducks. The President was occupied when they returned at dark, and for a time they sat on the arcade, playing cards. The cards were Spanish and Marston could not remember their value and the rules of the game. Mosquitoes hovered about them, the night was gloomy and very hot. Something in the still air made one strangely languid. Moreover, he was tired and anxious, and he did not feel much relief when Villar put the cards away and they began to talk.

Marston suspected the others' remarks were not as careless as they looked and might lead him to some awkward statements. It was like fencing with a clever antagonist when all one could do was to stand clumsily on guard. For the most part, he left the talk to Wyndham, and although Harry played up well, Marston thought the effort was difficult. He wondered whether their companions saw this. There was one comfort; in the tropics, people got up early and he imagined their hosts would not sit very long.

At length Larrinaga pushed back his chair. "Time goes and my duties begin at sunrise. Then I think you would like to make an early start?"

Wyndham said they must get off as soon as possible, and Larrinaga nodded.

"Don Arnoldo will give the necessary orders about the horses. They belong to the soldiers and nobody else is allowed about the stable. I believe he posts a guard at night. The Germans are like that, and the mission is now under military rule. It has drawbacks, but the army is the President's hobby and we submit."

The officer laughed and said the horses would be ready soon after daybreak, and when the others went off Marston and Wyndham climbed the outside stairs to their room.

"Looks as if they meant to keep us. Don Ramon's hint was plain," Marston observed.

"It's lucky white men don't walk much in this country," Wyndham replied. "A pasear round the plaza while the band plays is about all the exercise people take, and I don't imagine anybody above the rank of a peon has ever walked from the mission to the port. In fact, it's very possible Don Ramon hasn't calculated that we might set off on foot." He paused and went to the window. "The night's dark but very calm. A noise would carry; we must wait for some time."

CHAPTER IX

COLUMBINE STEALS AWAY

All was quiet at the mission but for the soft rustle of the palms when a puff of wind came down the hill. The last light had gone out behind the narrow windows across the patio, and Wyndham, looking at his watch, got up.

"We must chance it now," he said. "If all goes well, we ought to reach the port two or three hours before dawn and our hosts won't miss us until the major-domo sends our breakfast."

Marston pulled himself together. The port was a long way off and since he had left England he had not walked much, but it was obvious that he must make good speed to-night. Opening the door quietly, they stole downstairs, carrying their boots, and stopped for a few moments in the gloom of an arch. It was very dark; the palms across the square hardly showed against the sky. There was a sentry on the terrace, but they could not see him and waited until they heard his measured steps.

When the sentry passed the arch, they crept out and started across the square. Small stones hurt their feet, but they went on as fast as possible, until they heard a soft rattle of leather and jingle of steel. The sentry had wheeled round at the end of his beat and was coming back, and they lay down on the sand and waited until the steps receded. They must reach the gloom of the trees before he turned again, and they pushed on, listening hard. Marston's heart beat and his hands trembled as he clutched his boots. The measured steps stopped for a moment and then began to get louder, but Bob drew a deep breath when he distinguished the long branches of the palms overhead. Nobody could see him now.

A few minutes afterwards they set off down hill at the fastest pace they could make. The road was rough, one could not see the holes, and Marston was soon wet with perspiration. He had got soft in the tropics and his legs began to ache, but he thought he was going nearly five miles an hour. Since time was valuable, he must try to keep it up. He had no breath to talk and Wyndham said nothing; with clenched hands and eyes fixed straight in front they labored on. Half-seen palms went by, but in places the gloom was impenetrable, and now and then they fell into a hole.

By-and-by Marston's boot began to gall his foot. The smart got worse and sometimes he limped. When he did so, he dropped behind Wyndham, and setting his mouth tight he trod squarely. One could not walk fast on the side of one's foot; he must push on and bear the pain. It was ridiculous that he should lose time because his boot scraped his toe. Yet long afterwards he remembered the effort to keep up his speed.

When the first white houses of the town came out of the gloom his clothes were sticking to his skin and his wet hair was flat on his head. He stopped and sat down in a dusty gutter.

"I've got to take off my boots. There's a pavement of sorts," he gasped.

Wyndham nodded and looked about. The houses were indistinct and the sky was dark. He could not see his watch, but he calculated it was about four o'clock and day would not break for two hours yet. Puffs of wind touched his wet face and he heard it in the trees behind the town. They were in time, but had none to waste.

"Be quick!" he said. "We're a mile from the harbor."

Marston got up and they set off. Straight and nearly blank walls now shut them in, for the houses got light from the patios. Wyndham's steps echoed in the dark, but except for this all was quiet. It looked as if nobody were about. A strange smell hung about the houses, for the street was narrow and the land-breeze did not sweep it clean.