The Web of the Golden Spider

“Pardon me, but are not you one–one of Mr. Danbury’s friends?”

“We both are,” answered Wilson.

“Your name is–”

“Wilson.”

“Ah, how fortunate! It is you of all men I wished most to see. If–” A shout from a thousand throats rent the air. She looked dazed.

“If your Highness would bow,” suggested Otaballo.

She turned to the gathering, smiled, and bowed. But her scant courtesy was scarcely finished before her eyes were again upon Wilson and the anxious look uppermost in them.

“I must see you,” she commanded. “Follow me into the palace.”

She raised the hem of her light dress and tripped up the stairs looking more like a schoolgirl than a queen. Wilson and Stubbs followed after Otaballo, who appeared somewhat worried. They entered the palace, and at her request a guard led them into the privacy of a small room–as it happened, the room which Wilson had twice before visited that day.

“I asked you to come,” she began a bit nervously, “because you seemed to be the friend of whom Dicky talked to the last–”

“The last!” exclaimed Wilson.

“Oh, not that,” she assured him, grasping his fear. “He isn’t–isn’t dead. But you knew he was wounded?”

“No,” he answered quickly, “I had not heard.”

“Before the palace here and–he was brought to me. His wound isn’t so very serious, the doctor says,–it’s in his leg and he won’t be able to walk for some time.”

“I am sorry for him,” said Wilson, sincerely. “If there is anything I can do–”

“There is! There is! I have had him carried to his boat. He was unconscious and the doctor gave him something to make him sleep.”

“Drugged him?” he demanded roughly.

“Only so that he would go quietly. Then I gave the sailors orders to sail back home with him.”

“But why did you wish him to go back?”

“I must tell you, and you will understand. Oh, please to understand! He wanted to–to stay and–and I wanted him to stay. I think if–if it hadn’t been for this trouble we–we would have been married. But now–”

“Your station forbids it,” he finished for her with a note of harshness in his voice.

She answered very quietly–so quietly that it chided him.

“No, it is not that. He doesn’t need any title men might give him. I would have him King–but my people would only kill him. That is the reason.”

“Pardon me,” begged Wilson. “I–I did not understand.”

“They are very jealous–my people. He would have many enemies here–enemies who wouldn’t fight fair.”

“And he made you Queen for this!” gasped Wilson.

“He didn’t know–did he?”

“I should say not.”

“Now I want you to talk to him if he returns, and tell him he mustn’t come back and get killed. Won’t you?”

“I will talk to him if I see him, but–he will come back just the same.”

“He mustn’t. You don’t understand fully the danger.”

“You couldn’t make him understand.”

“Oh!” she cried.

She put her clasped hands to her hot cheeks a moment.

“If we could keep him away for a month–just a month. Then perhaps I could let someone else–be–be here.”

“You mean to abdicate?”

“Yes, couldn’t I? The General told me that if I didn’t send him away at once you would all be killed; but perhaps later–when things have quieted–”

“There will always be,” he warned, “a republic in the heart of your kingdom. The quieter–the more danger.”

General Otaballo had remained in the rear of the room doing his best to control his impatience, but now he ventured to step forward. He saluted.

“Pardon me, your Highness, but they wait to make you their Queen.”

“Don’t! Don’t!” she pleaded. “Leave me for to-day just a maid of Carlina. To-morrow–”

“Your Majesty,” answered the General, with some severity, “to-morrow may be too late for all of us.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“That the situation now is a great deal more serious than your Majesty seems to understand. We are victorious, yes. But it is as difficult to maintain a victory as to win one. To-day the crowd throw up their caps for Beatrice, but if Beatrice spurns them and ignores their loyal cheers, it takes but a trifle to turn their thoughts the other way. Let me escort your Majesty through the city; let me establish you in the palace which has been graced by so many of your kin; let them see you where their grandfathers saw your brave aunt, and the last drop of blood in their veins is yours.”

She pouted like a child, her thoughts still upon other things than crowns of human make.

“But I don’t want their blood. I don’t want to be Queen. I want to be left alone.”

She looked out the window to the blue sky so full of gold and peace, where the birds tumbled at will, their throats bursting with song.

“General,” she said, “leave me to-day, at any rate. That is all I ask,–just to-day.”

“Your Majesty,” he answered slowly, “it is not mine to grant, not yours to take. Many things may happen in a night,–too many. There will be much talking in the cafés this evening, many gatherings of men, much afoot before dawn. The forces brought in by General Danbury already belong to anyone who will pay them. It is not his fault,–they fought well for their money; but now they are equally ready to fight again for someone else. You alone can hold them to your cause. President Arlano escaped us and is doubtless busy. If we gain the crowd, we are safe against anything he may do; without the crowd, we are in jeopardy. Once the people see you crowned–once they can shout for Beatrice with her before their eyes, a living thing to fight for–they are ours forever.”

“But–”

“Your Majesty has not fully considered the alternative; it is that you and I and all the brave men who fought to-day for you will be at the mercy of Arlano,–at the mercy of the man whose father slew your aunt,–at the mercy of the man who tortured to death Banaca. It is a bloody mercy we would get. Beside your own, a thousand lives depend upon what you do before night.”

The girl drew back from him in fright. With the memory of her quiet yesterday in the sun; the drowsy yesterdays which preceded it; with the picture of this very man who in the past had never stood to her for anything but a pleasant companion at tea, the present situation seemed absurd and unreal. What was she that her insignificant actions should be of such moment? She had but one object in mind: to place Danbury without the power of all this strife, and she was even balked in that. For the first time she realized fully what a serious crisis he had precipitated. But it was too late for her to check its results. If she went now with General Otaballo, it would leave no possible outlet for her to avoid assuming the title of Queen; she must mount the throne at once. To do this meant to give up the greatest thing in her life. There was no possible escape from it. Only by renouncing Danbury utterly, by keeping him from Carlina, could she save his life. The only alternative was to fly, but this meant the sacrifice of too many other lives dear to her. The loyal, aged man before her who had thrown the remnant of his years into the cause was in itself enough to banish such a thought from her mind.

And this was what Dick had come across the seas to accomplish. It was a cruel jest of Fate. In his desire to secure for her all that he in his big heart thought she deserved, he had cheated her of the very thing her soul most craved. Yes, it was cruel, cruel. It would have been easier if he had not told her of his love, if he at least had left it a thing merely to be guessed at, a pleasant dream which she could have kept always as a sort of fairy possibility.

Her cheeks lost their color as she faced the man who watched her with fatherly solicitude. He stood waiting like some Nemesis,–waiting with the assurance that she would act as all the royal women of her race had always acted, bravely and loyally. From without there came a fresh cheer from the impatient men who waited for her.

“You hear?” he asked gently.

Her lips scarcely moved.

“Yes, I hear.”

For a moment she smothered her face in her hands. This meant so much to her. It was not a matter of a day, a week, a year; it was for a whole weary, lonesome lifetime. Then she faced him.

“I will come,” she said.

He raised her fingers to his lips.

“Your Majesty has the blood of her race.”

She turned a white face to Wilson.

“That’s it,” she said. “They call me Queen, but you see how helpless I am. You must tell him this and you must not let him come back.”

Otaballo held the door wide for her and she passed out. From the bottom of his heart Wilson pitied her, but this very pity brought to his mind that other woman whom he himself had left behind. He hurried out of the building after telling Stubbs where he could be found, and across the street. He took the stairs joyously, three at a time. The door of the room where he had left her stood open. The bed within was empty.

CHAPTER XVIII

Blind Alleys

For a moment he stood there staring, wondering if it could be only a dream that he had held her in his arms, that he had brought her up here, that she had lain upon this white bed which now mocked him with its emptiness. Then he took a step into the room, where he saw still the imprint of her head upon the pillow. He turned at this and ran into the hall, shouting her name. He was down the stairs in three bounds. The couch where he had left Sorez was also empty. The guard at the front door would not believe when told; but the proof lay in the absence of the guard in the rear. This door opened upon a small garden surrounded by a low wall. A gate led from this into a narrow street in the rear. If they were gone far they must have left in a carriage, for neither of them was strong enough to walk.

With a feeling of more bitter hatred than he had ever felt against any man, he realized that Sorez must have been in part shamming. That he was weak and exhausted there could be no doubt; but it was equally clear now that he was by no means so weak as he had led Wilson to believe. Not even Stubbs could have drawn Wilson from the house, had he suspected Sorez of being able to move from that couch within twelve hours.

Wilson blamed himself for stupidity, for carelessness, for almost criminal negligence in thus leaving the girl. And yet one might as soon reckon on the dead coming to life, as for this dénouement. It was clear that he was dealing with no ordinary man, but he should have known this after the display of nerve he had witnessed as Sorez had climbed the stairs in his own house. He was a man with an iron will, with the ability to focus whatever energy remained within him upon a single objective. Through this Wilson gained a ray of hope; even if he found it impossible to locate him before, he knew that Sorez would press on to the lake of Guadiva. No power, no force less than death would serve to prevent him. Sooner or later Wilson would meet his man there. The present pity of it was that with the information he possessed, the secret of the parchment, he might possibly have prevented this journey and saved the girl much hardship.

So his brain reasoned, but back of this was the throbbing ache that would not listen to reason. He wanted her again within his arms; he wanted again to look into her dark eyes, to feel again the warmth of her breath against his neck. He wanted, too, the sense of protecting and caring for her. He had meant to do so much; to find a comfortable lodging place for her until he could take her back; to forage food and clothing for her. A hundred things unsaid whirled about in his brain; a hundred plans unfulfilled mocked him; a hundred needs unsatisfied. For a few precious moments he had held her in his arms,–a few moments when he craved years, and then he had lost her. Perhaps there was still a chance. His own head was too confused to form a plan at present. He determined to return to the palace and seek Stubbs.

With the aid of two of Otaballo’s lieutenants he was able to locate Stubbs, who was assisting the General in an attempt to bring the mercenaries into some sort of order. These men finally worn out, he had succeeded in enticing into one of the big rooms where he had calmly turned the lock upon them. Wilson greeted Stubbs with the single exclamation:

“They’ve gone again.”

“What–the girl?”

“Gone,” groaned Wilson. “But within the hour. I want you to help me find them.”

“Like huntin’ fer a loose dory in th’ dark, ain’t it?”

“Yes, but you’d hunt even for your dory, wouldn’t you?”

“Right, m’ boy, an’ I ain’t suggestin’ thet yer change yer course, only–these seas are uncharted fer me. But how’d she git outern yer hands once yer had her?”

“Oh, I was a fool, Stubbs. I thought she would sleep until night, and so came over here to let you know where I was. That would have been all right if I hadn’t stayed, but the Queen came and–she told you about Danbury?”

“Yes,” nodded Stubbs, “an’ I can’t figger out whether it’s right er wrong. At any rate, he’s taken care of fer a couple weeks. I found out she told the truth, and that the boat has gone. But about the girl–have you an idea where this pirate has taken her?”

“No more than you have.”

“He isn’t a stranger here, is he? Prob’ly has friends, eh?”

“That’s so. I know he has. I saw some of his letters.”

“Know who they are?”

Wilson shook his head.

“I suppose we might find that out from the General–he must know him, for the man was a surgeon or something in the armies here.”

Two hours passed before they were able to reach the General, and then they had but a word with him. The girl had done his bidding and was now crowned Queen of Carlina. Every loyal citizen of Bogova was out, anxious to cheer himself hoarse before his neighbor. From the outlying districts the natives were pouring into the city as fast as they heard of the termination of hostilities. Otaballo had his hands full with prospect of more to do every hour.

“Everyone in Bogova knows Sorez,” he answered. “If he had been in the city for the last year I should know more of his possible whereabouts than I do. He was a surgeon in the Republican armies here, but he took no active interest in the Republic. How little his arrest proves. In fact, I think he stands in disfavor, owing to the trouble with the hill men, which they think started with him. I’ve even heard him accused of having stolen the image. But I don’t believe that or I’d arrest him myself. As it is, I’d like to have a talk with him. I can’t suggest where he is, but I’ll give you a couple of men who know him and know the city to help you.”

“Good!” exclaimed Wilson.

“In the meanwhile,” he said, turning to Stubbs, “I’m depending on you to keep those men in order. If they only had their pay–”

“They’ll get it as soon as we can reach Danbury. It was you who sent him away, General.”

There was a note of resentment in Stubbs’ voice. He had not at all approved of this act.

“I know, I know. But–I saved his life by it. As soon as things settle down a bit it will be safer for him. In the meanwhile, if we could get those men out of the city. To be frank, I’m afraid of them. Arlano might reach them and he could buy them with a few pieces of gold.”

“I’m not denying that,” said Stubbs, “unless ye can give them more gold. As fer myself, I can’t promise ye nothin’. I’ve finished my cruise with the captain an’ done my best. If he was here, I’d stick by him still, but he ain’t, an’ I’ve gut other things in hand. Every mother’s son of the crew will git their pay fer their work so far, but further, I dunno. They done what they promised–took the city fer ye. Now if ye doesn’t watch ’em I reckon they’ll take it fer themselves. As much as they can git in their pockets, anyhow.”

“I don’t like that,” answered the General, darkly. “If you’ll look after them–”

“I wash my hands of them from now on,” broke in Stubbs. “Havin’ other duties.”

“Other duties here?” asked Otaballo, instantly suspicious.

“The findin’ of this gent Sorez bein’ one of ’em,” answered Stubbs. “An’ I guess we better be about it.”

“It is for the sake of the girl,” explained Wilson. “The one you saw me bringing from the dungeon. Sorez kidnapped her from America, and now he has taken her again.”

The General’s face brightened.

“Ah, that is it!”

He summoned a lieutenant and held a brief whispered conversation with him.

“Gentlemen,” he concluded, turning to Wilson, “Lieutenant Ordaz–he will give you what assistance you need.”

“An’ th’ same,” said Stubbs, in a whisper to Wilson as soon as they were upon the street again, “we’ll proceed to lose. I didn’t like th’ look in Oteerballo’s eye when he give us this ’ere travellin’ mate.”

It was an easy enough task for Stubbs. At the end of three or four blocks he instructed Wilson to detach himself and go back to the last public house they had passed and there wait for him. This Wilson did, and in less than ten minutes Stubbs appeared alone.

“Sorry ter part comp’ny with the gent, but with him we wuz more likely ter find Oteerballo than Sorez. ’Nother thing, we has gotter do some plannin’ ’fore we begins work. ’Cause if I ain’t mistaken, we has a long chase ahead. In th’ fust place, how much gold is yer carryin’?”

“Gold? Not a dollar.”

“I thought ’bout thet amount. Next place, is yer papers safe?”

Wilson felt of his pocket where they were tightly pinned in.

“Couldn’t lose those without losing my coat.”

“Might lose yer coat in this here city. Next, how ’bout weapins?”

Wilson drew out the revolver which he had managed to keep through all the confusion. In addition to that he had some fifty cartridges loose in his pocket.

“Good!” commented Stubbs. Then he took an inventory of his own resources.

“In th’ fust place, I has some three hundred dollars in gold in this here leather belt ’bout my waist. Never had less in it since a ’sperience I had forty year ago. Fer weapins we is ’bout equal. Now I figgers this way; it will take us ’bout a week to learn what we has gotter learn ’bout the coast beyond those hills afore we takes chances on crossin’ ’em. We can git this information at th’ same time we is doin’ what we can to locate th’ girl, though I ain’t reckonin’ on seein’ her till we reaches th’ lake. We can pick up our outfit and our grub at th’ same time.”

Wilson broke in.

“I don’t like the scheme, Stubbs. I want to get to work and find the girl before she gets over the hills. It’s too hard a trip for her–it might kill her. She’s weak now, but that brute wouldn’t care. If–”

“Slow! Slow, m’ son. Yer blood is hot, but sometimes th’ short course is th’ longest. If we wastes a week doin’ nothin’ but thet, we wastes another perhaps arter we had found they has started. If we makes ourselves sure of our course to th’ treasure, we makes sure of our course to th’ girl. Thet is th’ only sure thing, an’ when ye’ve gut big things at stake it’s better ter be sure than quick.”

“I suppose you are right.”

“’Nother thing, m’ son, ’cordin’ to my notions this ain’t goin’ ter be a partic’laly healthy place fer ’Mericans in a day er two. Now thet they have bamboozled the Queen (an’ she herself is as squar’ a little woman as ever lived) inter gittin’ Danbury outer th’ city, an’ now thet the fight is won fer ’em, an’ now thet th’ boys we brought is about ter raise hell (as they certainly is), Otaballo ain’t goneter be squeamish ’bout removin’ quiet like and safe everyone who bothers him. In three days we might not be able to git out long ’nuff to git tergether an outfit er ask any questions. There’s a whole lot ’bout thet map o’ yourn thet we wanter understan’ afore we starts, as I looks at it.”

“There is some sense in that.”

“It’s a simple proposition; does ye want ter gamble on losin’ both chances fer th’ sake of savin’ a week, or does yer wanter make sure of one fer the double treasure–gold and girl?”

“I’d give every penny of the treasure to get the girl in my grip once again.”

“Ye’ve gotter git yer treasure fust afore ye can even do thet.”

“I know it. I’m powerless as things are. If there is a treasure there and we can get it, we’ll have something to work with. If I had the money now, I’d have fifty men on his track, and I’d post a hundred along the trail to the lake to intercept him.”

“If ye’d had the treasure, likely ’nuff ye wouldn’t have started. But ye ain’t gut it an’ ye is a long, long way from gettin’ it. But if ye don’t divide yer intrests, we is goin’ ter git it, an’ arter that we is goin’ ter git th’ girl, if she’s anywhere atop th’ earth.”

“I believe you, Stubbs,” answered Wilson, with renewed enthusiasm. “And I believe that with you we can do it. We’ll make a bargain now; share and share alike every cent we find. Give me your hand on it.”

Stubbs reached his big hand across the table and the two men shook.

“Now,” he said, “we’ll have a bite to eat and a mouthful to drink and begin work.”

During the next week they followed one faint clue after another, but none of them led to anything. Wilson managed to secure the names of many men who knew Sorez well and succeeded in finding some of them; but to no purpose. He visited every hotel and tavern in the city, all the railroad and steamship offices, but received not a word of information that was of any service. The two had disappeared as effectually as though they had dropped from the earth.

At the advice of Stubbs he kept out of sight as much as possible. The two had found a decent place to board and met here each night, again separating in the morning, each to pursue his own errands.

Both men heard plenty of fresh stories concerning the treasure in the mountains. Rumors of this hidden gold had reached the grandfathers of the present generation and had since been handed down as fact. The story had been strongly enough believed to inspire several expeditions among the natives themselves within the last twenty years, and also among foreigners who traded here. But the information upon which they proceeded had always been of the vaguest so that it had come to be looked upon as a fool’s quest.

The three hundred dollars was sufficient with careful buying to secure what the two men needed. Stubbs attended to all these details. They wished to make themselves as nearly as possible independent of the country, so that they could take any route which seemed to be advisable without the necessity of keeping near a base of supplies. So they purchased a large quantity of tinned goods; beef, condensed milk, and soup. Sugar, coffee, chocolate, flour, and salt made up the burden of the remainder. They also took a supply of coca leaves, which is a native stimulant enabling one to withstand the strain of incredible hardships.

Each of them secured a good Winchester. They were able to procure what ammunition they needed. A good hunting knife completed the armament of each.

For clothing they wore on their feet stout mountain shoes and carried a lighter pair in their kits. They had khaki suits and flannel shirts, with wide Panama sombreros. At the last moment Stubbs thought to add two picks, a shovel, and a hundred feet or more of stout rope. Wilson had made a copy of the map with the directions, and each man wore it attached to a stout cord about his neck and beneath his clothing.

It was in the early morning of August 21 that the two finally left Bogova, with a train of six burros loaded with provisions and supplies for a three months’ camping trip, and a native guide.

CHAPTER XIX

The Spider and the Fly

The sun came warmly out of a clear sky as they filed out of the sleeping town. To the natives and the guide they passed readily enough as American prospectors and so excited no great amount of interest. The first stage of their journey was as pleasant as a holiday excursion. Their course lay through the wooded foothills which lie between the shore and the barren desert. The Cordilleras majestic, white capped, impressive, are, nevertheless, veritable hogs. They drink up all the moisture and corral all the winds from this small strip which lies at their feet. Scarcely once in a year do they spare a drop of rain for these lower planes. And so within sight of their white summits lies this stretch of utter desolation.

It was not until the end of the first day’s journey that they reached this barren waste. To the Spanish looters this strip of burning white, so oddly located, must have seemed a barrier placed by Nature to protect her stores of gold beyond. But it doubtless only spurred them on. They passed this dead level in a day and a half of suffocating plodding, and so reached the second lap of their journey.