Altsheler Joseph Alexander - The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista стр 4.

Middleton had observed this silent drama of a fewmoments, and he said quietly:

"You do not know, Philip, who these men are?"

"No," replied the boy, "but I should like to know."

"The stout, elderly man is Don August Xavier HernandoZucorra y Palite, who is at the head of a specialMexican embassy that has been at Washington to treatwith our government about the boundary of Texas-youknow there has been trouble between the States andMexico over the Texan boundary-and the younger is Pedrode Armijo, his nephew, and the nephew, also, of Armijo, the governor of New Mexico, where we are planningto go."

"I fancied from his manner," said Bill Breakstone,"that young Armijo was the President of Old Mexico andNew Mexico both. I have called you Sir Knight, andMy Lord Phil, but our young Mexican is both His Graceand His Royal Highness. By my halidome, we areindeed proud and far above that vile herd, the populace."

"Well, he will not bother us," said Arenberg. "Ifyou run after trouble you will find it coming to meetyou."

Middleton watched the Mexicans with uncommon interestuntil they passed out of sight. Arenberg, a shrewdand penetrating man himself, said:

"You are interested in them, Mr. Middleton?"

"I am," replied Middleton frankly, "and I know, too, that the errand of Zucorra to Washington has been afailure. The relations of the United States and Mexicoare no better."

"But that won't keep us from going across to thePacific, will it, Cap?" said Bill Breakstone briskly."You don't mind if I call you Cap, do you, Mr. Middleton?You are, in a way, our leader, because you aremost fit, and the title seems to suit you."

"Call me Cap if you wish," replied Middleton, "butwe are all on equal terms. Now, as we have seen theMexicans, and, as there is nothing more here to attract us,we might go on up the levee."

"Prithee, we will suit the deed to the word," said BillBreakstone, "but do not run into that drunken Indianthere, Phil. I would not have thy garments soiled bycontact with this degraded specimen of a race once proudand noble."

Phil turned a little to one side to avoid the Indian ofwhom Breakstone spoke. The levee was littered withfreight, and the red man huddled against a hogshead oftobacco from far Kentucky. His dress was partly savageand partly civilized, and he was sodden with dirt anddrink. But, as Breakstone spoke, he raised his head andflashed him a look from fiery, glowing eyes. Then hishead sank back, but the single glance made Breakstoneshiver.

"I felt as if I had received a bullet," he said. "Nowwhat did the noble savage mean by giving me such a look?He must have understood what I said. Ah, well, itmattereth not. He looked like a Comanche. It has beenwisely said, let the cobbler stick to his last, and there isno last in New Orleans for Mr. Cobbler Comanche."

"You didn't suppose he understood you," saidArenberg, "and no harm iss done where none iss meant."

Phil looked back at the Comanche, but there wasnothing heroic about

the fiery torch. Middleton regarded him withkindly approval.

"A good boy," he said to Woodfall. "A lad withfine instincts and a brave spirit."

"And a mighty handy one, too," said Woodfall."I've noticed how he works. He's as big and strongas a man, and I never saw anybody else who was justprized down like a hogshead of tobacco, crowded full ofzeal."

"I think it likely he will need it all before our journeyis over," said Middleton.

"It's probable," repeated Woodfall, "but I'll askyou, Cap, not to speak it. It may be that thisexpedition was begun at the wrong time. I had heard, and theowners had heard, that the troubles with Mexico werequieting down, but it seems that, instead of doing so, they are getting livelier."

"I shall certainly say nothing about it to our peoplehere," replied Middleton. "Cheerful hearts are the best, and we may have trouble with neither Mexicans norIndians."

Phil himself was not thinking at that moment ofeither yellow or red foes. His fire had grown into amighty pyramid, and, as the dead wood burned fast, itsoon sank down into a great mass of glowing coals.Then he, Breakstone, and Arenberg boiled coffee in bigiron pots, and cooked bread and many slices of bacon.The night was cool and nipping, but the coals threw outan abundance of heat. A delicious aroma arose andspread far. Everybody came forward with tin cup andtin plate, and helped himself. Phil took his filled platein one hand, his filled cup in the other, and sat down ona fallen log with Breakstone and Arenberg.

"In my time, and as an ornament to the stage," saidBill Breakstone, "I have eaten some bountiful repasts. Ihave feasted as a prince, a duke, or some other lordling.I have been the wrestler in the Forest of Arden withRosalind and Celia . I have had my head deep in themug of sack, as Sir John Falstaff , but most of thosemagnificent repasts depended largely upon the imagination.Here I am neither prince nor duke, but the food isreal, and the air is so good that one might even bite achip with a certain pleasure. Excuse me, Sir Philip ofthe Forest, while I even drain the coffee-cup."