A DOUBLE-DYED DECEIVER.

Lyttelton Times, Volume CXV, Issue 13948, 3 January 1906, Page 4

A DOUBLE-DYED DECEIVER.

'fS'J (By 0. HENRY.) ■■ • 1 „•■..■■ . - ■ ■ ; CHAPTER. 1. The trouble began in Laredo. It was pljihe Llano Kid’s fault; for he should xtjrteve confined his habit of manslaugh-a’-.>ter to Mexicans. But the Kid /was ''jest twenty; and to have only, Mexi'jeans to one’s credit at twenty is to S,-ysush unseen on the Rio. Grande-bord- ’• It happened in old Justo Valdo s ;* ‘gambling house. Thcro was a poker at which sat players who were J - '-.*ot all friends, as happens often where ride in from afar to shoot Folly as A Igfco gallops. There was a row ‘over so agnail a matter as a pair of queens; fd when the smoke had cleared away was found that the Kid had com--1,- iinitted. and his adver;j,;«ary had been guilty of a-blunder.. For, V:;;the unfortunate combatant, instead of Being a Greaser, was ,» high-blooded youth from the cow ranches, of about i'f.' jthe Kid’s, own age, and. poesessed of ; ;i and champions'. '•’■.His Blunder in fel^ifcissing’the Kid’s right oar by only a r-Vialxteenth of an inch when he pulled his did not lessen the indiscretion of f; : jt]h©' better marksman. ' _ The Kid, not being-equipped; with a nor bountifully supplied with sapSiersonal admirers and supporters—on "account of a rather umbrageous reputation even for the border—considered lit not incompatible with his ihdispu-' -table gameness to perform that judici-<nous-tractiorial act known as ‘‘pulling his freight.” . ' ! :t, ■ Quickly the avengers gathered ' and -} wught him. Three of them overtook I him within a rod of the station. The J; Kid t urned and showed his i n brilliant but mirthless smile that Usually preceded his deeds of -insolence i*ind violence, and his pursuers fell back.without making it necessary for him even to reach for his weapon. I But in this affair: the Kid had not felt the grim thirst for rencounter that i',| qsually urged him on to battle. It had " 1 been a purely chance row, born of cards ; Ajand certain epithets impossible for a ‘gentleman to brook, that had passed Wi between tho two. The Kid had rather - liked the slim, haughty,.. brown-faced young chap whom his bullet had cut off iift-in the first pride } And ho wanted He V - ,, wanted t4/*get away :apd; have a good _.-';kmg sleep somewhere in the,! sun, on ", - tho mesquit grass, with his handkerchief over his face; -' Even a.Mexifcan 1 _ might have crossed' his 'path in safety while he was in this mood. ", , . , Tho Kid openly, boirded tho north- , bound passenger-train that departed - _ five minutes later. But' at Webb, a . few miles out, where it wee flagged to take on a'livelier, he abandoned that manner of escape; There were tele- - graph stations ahead; and tho Kid looked askance at electricity'and steam. Saddle and spur were hie rocks of aafety. The man whom he had shot was a stranger to him. But the Kid knew that ho was of the Corralitoe outfit ~ „from Hidalgo, and that tho punchers from that ranch were more relentless and vengeful than Kentucky feudists ' ‘when wrong or harm was done to One Cr-bf them. So, with the 'wisdom that 4;,;’,has characterised many great fighters, ' - fthe Kid decided to pile * up as many k -‘leagues as possible of chaparral and f* ;;pear between himself and the retaliaih -.lion of the Corralitoe bunch. Near the station was a store; and tviliioer the store, scattered ’among the Mi-:\ SK \

mesquitfi and elms, stood the saddled horeee of the customers. Most of them waited-, half asleep, with sagging limbs and drooping heads. But one, a longlegged ro’ari with a curved neck, snorted and pawed the turf.' Him the Kid mounted, gripped with hi? knees, and slapped gently with the owner's own quirt. If the slaying of the temerarious card-player, had cast a cloud over the Kid’s standing as a good and true citizen, this last act of his veiled his figure in the darkest, shadows of disrepute. On the Rio Grande border if you take a man’s life you sometimes take trash; but if you take Iris horse, you take a thing the loss of which renders him poor, indeed, and which enriches you not—if you are caught. For the Kid there was no turning back now. With the springing roan under him he felt little care or uneasiness. 1 After a five-mile gallop he drew in to the plainsman’s jogging trot, and rode northeastward towards the Nueces River bottoms. He knew, the country well—its most tortuous and obscure trails through the great wilderness of brush and pear, and its camps and lonesome ranches where one might find safe entertainment. Always no bore to the east; for the-Kid had never seen the ocean; and he had a fancy to lay his hs,nd upon the mane of the great gulf, the gamesome oolt of the greater, waters. ■ .

So after three days he stood on the shore at Corpus Chnsti, and looked out across the gentle ripples of a quiet sea. Captain Boone, of the schooner Flyaway, stoodmear his skiff, which one of h’s crew was guarding in the surf. When ready to sail lie had;,discovered that one of the noccasaricsVof life, in the parallelograiiimatio; shape'; of ' plug tobacco, had been forgotten. «A. sailor had been despatched for tile in fusing cargo. Meanwhile the captain -paced the sands, chewing profanely ..at ; his pocket store. ■, ; • , A slim, wiry youth, in high-heeled boots, came down to tho water’s edge. His face was boyish, but with a. premature severity that hinted at a man’s experience. His complexion was naturally dark, and the'sun and wind of an out-door life had burned it to a coffee brown. His hair was as black and straight as an Indian’s; his face had not yet been upturned to the humiliation of a razor ; his eyes were a cold and steady blue- He carried his left arm somewhat away from his body, for pearl-handled .45s are frowned upon by town marshals, and are a little bulky when packed in the left armhole of one’s vest. He looked beyond Captain Boone at the gulf with'the impersonal and expressionless dignity of a Chinese cmperor. “ Thinkin’ of buyin’ that ’ar gulf, buddy?” asked tho captain, made sarcastic by hk narrow escape, from a tobaccoless voyage. “Why, no,” said the Kid, gently, “I reckon not. I never saw it before. I was just looking at it. Not thinking of selling it, are you?”. ■ . “Not this trip,” Said the captain. I’ll sent it to you C. 0. D. when I get l ack to Buenas Ticrras. Here comes that capstan-footed lubber with the chewin’. I ought to’ve weighed anchor an hour ago.” „ “is that your ship out there? -asked the Kid. " Why, yes, answered tho captain, “if you want to call a schooner a ship, and I don’t mind lyin’- But you better eav Miller and Gonzales, owners, and ordinary, plain, Billy-be-damned. old Samuel K. Boone, skipper.” “ Where are you going to?' asked the refugee. “ Buenas Tierras, oOast of South America I forget what they called the country the last time I was there. Cargo— lumber, .corrugated iron, and machetes.”

“ Warmish, buddy,” Said the captain. “ But a regular Paradis© Lost for elegance of scenery and be-yooty of geography. Ye’ re -wakened every morning by the sweet surgin’ of red birds with seven purpl© tails, and the sighin' of breezes in the posies and roses. And the inhabitants never work, for they "can reach out and pick steamer baskets of the choicest hothouse fruit without gettin’ out of bed. And there’s no Sunday and no ice and no rent and no troubles and no use and no nothin’. It’s a great country for a man to go to sleep with, and wait for somethin’ to turn up. The bananys and oranges and hurricanes and pineapples that ye ©at comes from there.” . “That sounds to me!” said the Kid, at last betraying interest. “What’ll the ex press age be to take me out there with vou?” ... “ Twenty-four dollars,” said Captain Boone; “ grub and transportation. Second cabin. I haven’t got a first cabin.” . “ You’ve got .my company,” said the Kid, pulling out a buckskin bag. With thre© hundred dollars ho had gone to Laredo for his regular “ blowout,” The duel in Vahid’s had cut short his season of hilarity, but it had left him with nearly 200dol for aid in the flight that it had mad© necessary. - “All right, buddy,” said the captain. “ I hope your ma won’t blame me for this little childish escapade of yours.” He beckoned to one of the boat’s crew. “Let Sanchez lift you out to the skiff so you won’t get your feet wet.” CHAPTER 11. Thacker, the United States consul at Buenae Tierras, was not yet drunk. It was only eleven o’clock; and he never arrived at his desired state of beatitude —a state in which he sang ancient irfaudlin vaudeville songs and pelted his screaming parrot with banana peels—until the middle of the afternoon. So, when he looked ut> from his hammock *at % the sound* of a slight cough, and saw the Kid standing in the door of the Consillate, life was still ill a condition to extend the hospitality and courtesy due from the representative of a great nation. ... , ■ “Don’t disturb yourself,” said the Kid easily. “ I just dropped in. They told me it was customary to light at your camp before starting in to round up the town. I just come in on ship from Texas.” . . ' ‘‘ Glad to see you, Mr ’’ said the Consul. ■ ,

The Kid laughed. • “Sprague Dalton,” he said. ‘ It sounds funny for me to hear it. I’m called the Llano Kid in the Rio Grande country.” . “ I’m Thacker,” said the consul. “Take that cane-bottom chair. Now, if you’ve come to invest, you want somebody to advise you. These dingies will cheat you out of the gold in your teeth if you don’t understand their ways. Try a cigar?” “Much obliged,” said the Kid, “but if it wasn’t for my corn-shucks and the little bag in my back pocket, I couldn’t live a minute.” He took out his “ makings,” and rolled a cigarette. “They speak Spanish here,” said the consul. “You’ll need an. interpreter. If .there’s anything I Can do, why, I’d bo delighted. If you’re buying fruit lands or looking for a concession of any sort, you’ll want somebody who knows the ropes to look out for you.” “ I speak Spanish,” said the Kid, “ about nine times better than I do English. • Everybody speaks it on the range where I come from'. And I’m not in the market for anything.” “ Yon sneak Spanish?” said Thaoker "thoughtfully. He regarded the Kid absorbedly. ■ ■ - “You look like a Spaniard, too,” he continued. “ And you’re from Texas. And you can’t be. Shore than twenty or twenty-one.' I wonder if you’ve got any nerve.” “ You got a deal of some kind to put through?” asked tho Texan, with unexpected shrewdness. “Are you open to a proposition?” said Thacker. “ What’s the use to deny it?” said tho Kid. “I got into a little gun .frolic down in Laredo and plugged a white man. ‘ There wasn’t any Mexican handy. And I come down to your parrot-and-monkey rangje just for to smell,the morning-glories and marigolds.' Now, <}o yon sabe?” • •Thacker got up and closed the door. “ Let me see your hand,” he said. He took the Kid’s left hand, and examined the back of it closely. _ “ I can do it,” he said excitedly. “ Your flesh is as hard as wood and as healthy as a baby’s.- It will heal in a week.” “If'it’s a fist fight yon want to back me for,”' said thb.Kid, “don’t put your money up yet. Make it gun work, and I’ll .keep yon company. But no barehanded scrapping, like ladies at a tea-party, for me.” “ It’s easier than that,” said Thacker. “ Just step,here, will yon?’’ Through the window be pointed to ,a two-storey white-stuccoed house with wide galleries rising amid the leep tropical foliage on a wooded hill that sloped gently from the sea. . “ In that house,” said Thacker, “ a fine old Castilian gentleman and his wife are yearning to gather yon into their arms and fill your pockets with money. Old Santos Urique lives there. Ho owns half the gold-mines in the country.” f “ Yon haven’t been eating loco weed, have yon?” asked the Kid. “Sit down again,” Said Thacker, “ and I’ll tell yon. Twelve years ago they’lost a kid. No, ho didn’t die—although moat of ’em do here from drinking the surface water. He was a wild little devil, even'if he wasn’t but eight years old. Everybody knows about it. Some Americans who were through here prospecting for gold had letters to Sonor tlriqne, and the boy was a favourite with them. They filled his head with big stories about the States; and about a month after they left the kid disappeared, too. Ho was supposed to have stowed himself away among the banana hunches on a fruit steamer, and gone to New Orleans. He was seen once afterward in Texas, it i was thought, but they never heard any-

thing more of him. Old Urique has spent thousands of dollars having him looked for. The madam was broken up worst of all. The kid was her life. She wears mourning yet. But they say she believes he’ll come back to her some day, and never gives up hope. On the back of the boy’s loft hand was tattooed a flying eagle carrying a spear in his claws. That’s old Uriquo’ts coat of arms or something that he inherited in Spain.” The Kid raised his left hand slowly and gazed at it curiously. , “That’s it,” said Thacker, reaching behind the official desk for his bottle of smuggled brandy. “You’re not so slow. I can do it. 'What was I consul at Sandakan for? I never knew till now. In a week I’ll have the eagle bird with the frog-sticker blended in so j r ou’d think you were born with it. I brought a set of the needles and ink just because I was sure you would drop in some day, Mr Dalton.” “ Oh, said the Kid. “ I thought I told you.” <- “ All right, ‘ Kid,’ then. It won’t be that long. How does Senorito Urique sound, for a change?” “I never played son any that I remember of,” said the Kid. “If I had any parents to mention they went over vide about the time I gave my first bleat. What is the plan of your round round-up?” Thacker leaned back against the wall and held his glass up to the light. “We’ve come now,” said he, “to' the question of how far you’re wnlling to go in a little matter of this sort.” “ I'told you why I came down here,” said the Kid simply. “A good answer,” said the consul. “ But you ivon’t have to go that far. Here’s the scheme. After I got the trade-mark tattooed on your hand I’ll notify old Urique. In the meantime I’ll, furnish yon with all the family history I can find out, so you can be studying up points to talk about. You’ve got the looks, you speak the Spanish, you know' the facts, yon can tell about Texas, you’ve got the tattoo mark. When I notify them that the rightful heir- has returned, and is •waiting to know whether he will be received and pardoned, what will happen. They’ll simply rush down here and fall on your neck, and the curtain goes down for refreshments and a stroll in the lobby.” “ I’m waiting,” said the Kid. “I haven’t had my saddle off in your camp long, pardner, and I never met yon before; but if. you intend, to let it go at a parental blessing, why, I’m mistaken in my man, that’s all,” “Thanks,” said the consul. “I haven’t met anybody in a long time that keeps up with an argument 1 as well as you do. The rest of if is simple. If they take you in only for a while it’s long enough. Don’t give ’em time to hunt up the strawberry mark on your left shoulder. ! Old Urique keeps anywhere from 50,000d0l to 100,000dol in his house all the time in a little safe that you could open with a shoe-buttoner. Get it. My ski l ! as a tattooer is worth half the boodle. We go halves and catch a tramp steamer for Rio Janeiro. Let the United States go to pieces if it enn’t get along without my sendees. Quo dice, senor?” “It sounds to me!” said the Kid, nodding his head. “I’m out for the dust.” “ All right, then,” said Thacker You’ll have to keep close until we get the bird on you. You can live in the back room here. Ido my own cooking, and I’ll make you as comfortable as a parsimonious Government will, allow me.” Thacker had set the time at a week, but it was two weeks before the design that he patiently tattooed upon tile Kid’s hand was to his notion. And then Thacker called a muchacho, and despatched this note to the intended victim:— “ El Senor Don Santos Urique, “La Casa Blanca. “ My Dear Sir, —I beg permission to inform you that there is in my house as a temporary guest a young man who arrived in Buenas Tierras from ■ the United States some,days ago. Without wishing to excite any hopes that may not he realised, I think there is a possibility of his being your long-absent son. It'might be well for you to call and see him. If hKis, it is my opinion that his intention" was to return to his home, .but upon arriving here his courage failed ’him . from doubts as to how he would bo received.—Your true servant, Thompson Thacker.” Half an hour afterward —quick time for Buenas Tierras—Senor Urique’s ancient landau drove to me Consul's door, with the barefooted coachman beating and shouting at the team of fat, awkward horses. A tall man with fi white moustache alighted, and assisted to the ground a lady woo was dressed and veiled in unrelieved black. The two hastened inside, and were met by Thacker with his beat aiplomatic bow. By his desk stood a sender young man with clear-cut, sunbrowned features and smoothly brushed black hair. ' Senora Urique threw back her heiry veil with a quick gesture. She was past middle age, and her hair was beginning to silver, but her full, proud figure and clear olive skin retained traces of the beauty peculiar to the* Basque province. But, once you had seen her eyes, and comprehended the great sadness that was revealed in their deeo shadows and hopeless expression, you saw that the woman lived only in some memory. She. bent upon the young man a long look of the most agonised questioning. Then her great black eyes turned, and her gaze rested upon his left hand. And then with a sob, not loud, but seeming to shake the room, she cried “ Hi,jo mio!” and caught the Llano Kid her heart. CHAPTER HI. A month afterward the Kid came to the consulate in response to a message sent by Thacker. He looked the young Spanish Caballero. His clothes were imported, and the wiles of the jewellers had not been spent upon him in vain. A more than re-spoct-able diamond shone on his linger as lie rolled a shuck cigarette.

“What’s doing?” asked Thacker. “ Nothing much,” said the Kid calmly. “1 eat my first iguana steak today. They’re them big lizards, you sabe? I reckon; isough, that frijoles and side bacon would do me about as well. Do you care for iguanas, Thacker?” “No, nor for some other kinds of reptiles,” said Thacker. It was three in thq afternoon, and in another hour ho wthild bo in his state of beatitude. “ It’s time you Were making good, sonny,” he went on, with an ugly loon on his reddened face. “You’re not playing up to me square. You’ve been the prodigal son for four weeks now, and you could have had veal for every meal on a gold dish if you’d wanted it. -Now, Mr Kid, do you uiink it’s right to leave me out so long on a husk diet? What’s the trouble ? Don’t you get your filial eyes on thing that looks like' cash in the Casa Blanca? Don’t tell me you don’t. Everybody knows where old Urique keeps bis stuff. It’s U.S. currency, too; he don’t accept anything else. What’s doing? Don’t say * nothing’ this time.” . “Why, sure,” said the Kid, admiring his diamond, “ there’s plenty of money up there. I’m no judge of collateral in bunches, but I will ufidertake for to say that I’ve seen the rise of 50,000d0l at a time in that tin grub box that my adopted father calls his safe. And he lets meg carry the key sometimes, justtto show me that he knows I’m the real little Francisco that strayed from the herd a long time ago.” . “Well, what are you waiting for?” asked Thacker angrily. “ Don’t you forget that I can upset youf apple-cart any day I want to. If old Urique know [ you were an impostor, wjiat sort of things would happen to yon? Oh, yon don’t know this country, Mr Texas Kid. The laws here have got mustard spread, before ’em. These people here’d stretch you out like a frog that had been stepped on, and give you about fifty sticks at every corner of the plaza. And they’d wear every stick out, too. What was left of you they’d feed to alligators.” - ■ “ I might as well tell you now, pard- ' ner,” said the Kid, sliding down low on ( his steamer chair, “ that things are go- ' ing to stay just- as they are. They’re 1 about right now.” - ' “What do you mean?” asked Thicker,- rattling the bottom of his glass"on his desk. , v ‘/The , scheme’s off,” said the Kid. “ And whenever you have the pleasure of speaking to me address me as Don Francisco Urique. I’ll guarantee I’ll answer to it. We’ll let Colonel Urique keep his money. His little tin (safe is as good as the timo-locker in the First National Bank of Laredo as far as you and me are concerned.” “You’re going-to throw me down, then, are you?” said the consul. “Sure,” said -the Kid cheerfully. “ Throw you down. That’s it. And now I’ll tell you why. The first night I was -up at the colonel’s house they introduced mo to a bedroom. No blankets on the floor—a real room, with a bed and things in it. And before I was asleep, in cpraos this artificial mother of mine and' tucks in the covers. ‘ Panchito,’ she says, ‘my little lost one, God has brought yon back to me. I bless His name forever.’ It was that, or some truck like that, she said. And down comes a drop or two of rain and hits me on the nose. And all that stuck by me,-Mr Thacker. And it’s j been that way ever since. And it’s got to stav that way. Don’t you think I that it’s. for what’s in it for me, either, 1 that I say so. If you have any such, ideas, keep ’em to yourself. I haven’t had much truck with women in my life, and no mothers to speak of, but here's I a lady that we’ve got to keep fooled. , Once she stood it; twice she won’t. I’m a low-down wolf, and the devil may have sent mo on this trail instead of j Gcd, but I’ll travel it to the end. And now, don’t forget that I’m Don Francisco Urique whenever you happen to mention my name.” “ I’ll expose yon to-day, you—you double-dyed traitor,” stammered Thacker. . The Kid arose, and, without violence, took Thacker by the throat with a hand of steel/ and shoved him slowly into a corner. .Then he drew from under hie left arm his pearl-handled .45 and poked the cold muzzle of it against the consul’s mouth. “ I told yon why I come here,” he said, with his old freezing smile. “If I leave here, you’ll be the reason. Never forget it, pardner. Now, what is my name?” “ Er—Don Francisco Urique,” gasped Thacker. /

From outside came a sound of wheels, and the shouting of someone, and the sharp thwacks of a wooden whip-stack upon the backs of fat horses, * "The Kid put up-bis gun, and walked toward the door. But lie turned again and came hack to the trembling Thacker, and held up his left hand with his back toward the consul. “ There’s one more reason,”' lie said slowly, “ why things have got to stand as they are. Tho fellow I killed in Laredo* had one of them same pictures on his left hand.” , Outside, the ancient landau of Don Santos Urique rattled to tho door. The coachman ceased his bellowing. Senora Urique, in, a voluminous gay gown of white lac-o and flying ribbons, leaned forward with a happy look in her great soft eyes. “Are you within, dear son? she called, in the rippling Castilian. “ Madro mio, Yo vengo ” (Mother, I come), answered tho young Don Francisco Unqne.