America First

It was a dull, dull afternoon, for no patrons came, and the visitors merely glanced in and passed on. It was hot and still, so the sleepy Riego decided to rest. He found a cool spot behind a pile of boxes, and lay down and closed his eyes.

*****

When Riego opened his eyes again it was with a start. There were voices – smothered voices – some men were in the shop! Riego lay still and listened.

"We will attack the gringo camp to-night – just before dawn," a smothered voice was saying. "Alva has three hundred men and more. They can easily surprise and destroy these eighty Americans, and so can seize their horses and ammunition."

"But the patrol?" It was Pascual's voice that whispered the question. Riego's heart turned sick. He recognized the voice of Lorente in the terrifying reply:

"Pacheco and a picked few will knife the patrol at the ford, then Alva's men will cross, and approach the camp up the ravine."

"To-morrow morning?" Pascual's voice asked.

"Yes, just before dawn."

There were approaching steps on the street.

A customer entered. Riego heard Lorente departing – heard the customer inquire the price of a saddle, and go out.

It must be done now– now while Pascual was alone, and he could speak to him! The next moment Riego stood before his brother.

"I heard you!" he cried. "Pascual, they must not!"

But Pascual laid a fierce hand upon his breast and pinned him to the wall.

It was a terrible scene – that which followed – terrible in the tense quiet of its enactment – terrible in its outcome!

With Riego pinned against the wall where he needs must listen, Pascual poured forth such a torrent of abuse, of falsehood, against the "gringos" that at length the old hate blood leapt in the younger boy's veins and went beating through his brain.

The gringos were their enemies —enemies! The men who were coming down upon them with the dawn were of their own blood, of their native country! What if the invaders were "revolutionists"? Were they not Mexican? Talk of "loyalty" – one must be loyal to one's own!

When Pascual loosed his grip upon the slight form it was after he had stirred to the very dregs all that was passionate, all that was ignorant and prejudiced and violent, in the boy's nature.

That afternoon Riego did not report at Miss Arden's class, but long after class hour he was obliged to pass her house on the mission to deliver a mended harness to a farmer living near the American camp.

Miss Arden and her mother, Riego knew, were the only members of the big captain's family. They lived in a large house in the woods, half-way between the town and the camp. He knew also that the big captain stayed in camp.

As Riego emerged from the long stretch of lonely woods which separated Miss Arden's house from the town, and as he faced the other long stretch of woods which lay between him and the camp, the boy was struck by the isolation of the señorita's home.

He reflected, however, that Alva's men were to attack the gringo soldiers by way of the ford, and that the ford lay to the right yonder, far out of connection with the captain's house. He was glad – glad that Alva's men would not come that way!

Suddenly he spied the señorita herself. She was standing on the steps of her father's home. Riego's heart bounded within him at sight of her. He pulled down his hat and hoped to pass unrecognized, but the sweet, familiar voice called:

"Riego!"

He did not answer.

Then she ran down the steps to him, and put her gentle hands upon him, turning him to her against his will.

"What is the matter, Riego?" she asked.

No answer.

"You didn't come to class this afternoon."

No answer.

"I'm sorry," she said, after a moment of silence in which she looked searchingly into his face, "because we had an interesting lesson to-day. It was all about what one ought to do in case one should be forced to choose between the old land and the new."

The boy gave a swift, upward glance at her, then dropped his eyes to the ground again. Miss Arden continued, and her voice was very serious now:

"And we decided, Riego, that one ought to think out carefully which country was really the better, and be true to that, because there is a higher duty than that to party or country, and that is – to the principles of justice and freedom."

Riego's head sank lower. The Beautiful One took one of his brown hands into her own.

"And we said" – was she looking into the dark heart of him? – "that whichever way one chose, one should choose openly. Now this little brown hand could never – "

But the little brown hand was snatched away, and with a great sob the child fled into the woods.

When at last that night Riego did fall asleep he dreamed that his beautiful America came to him with her white arms held out in appeal, and that he slipped a dagger out of his bosom and stabbed her to the heart.

He started, awake, and sat up. It was black dark.

Had Alva struck already? Or was there yet time?

Ten feet away was Pascual's cot – he must not wake Pascual! As still as death he slipped out of his bed, pulled on his overalls that he had hung near, and crept out into the moonless night.

Riego could not think – it was all so desperate! He could only respond to the heart that was in him, and creep forward through the dark. But his feet knew the road that he took, though his brain was reeling. He was going straight to the one who had wakened the new loyalty in him – his beautiful America!

"I pledge allegiance to my flag and to the republic for which it stands," went surging through him as he struggled on.

Riego was not grandly heroic; he was only a frightened little boy, but determined now to do his loyal best for the country that had sheltered him from oppression. And so, though the treacherous sands might seek to drag him down, though the dark chaparral yonder might hide – any fearsome thing! – Riego went forward.

And now the house of the big captain loomed black before him. Riego stole up the front steps. He knew behind which of the long, closed windows the señorita slept, and he approached and tapped fearfully upon it.

It was a frightened voice that called: "Who is that?"

Riego was not conscious how he answered, but he knew that a wave of relief flowed over him when the blind of the long window opened and he was drawn into the dark room by a pair of familiar hands.

The blind was closed after him and a light was struck.

The señorita's eyes were disclosed big and startled; her face was as white as the long robe she wore.

"What is it, Riego?" she gasped.

"They are coming!" he whispered.

"Who?" she exclaimed, catching him by the shoulders, "Who?"

"Alva," the boy answered, "and three hundred with him. They are going to surprise – our soldiers – and kill them while they sleep!"

The señorita sprang to the telephone. She pulled down the lever many, many times, then she staggered back against the wall.

"They have cut the wires!" she cried. "Riego, you and I must take the warning!"

"To the camp?" the boy cried in dismay.

"Yes, there's no one within a mile of here that could take it but us!"

"But the Mexicans have spies over there," the boy moaned. "They will find us in the dark with their knives!"

She had flung on a long cloak, and was hurriedly fastening her shoes.

"Then you stay here and I'll go," she said.

"You?" cried the startled child – then – "It is dark out there, my lady; I'll go with you."

They extinguished the light and stole out together to the stable, but the horses were gone!

Desperate now, they started out afoot.

The treacherous sand again and the black dark! But they crept along together. Then suddenly the boy's courage gave way and he clung to the cloaked figure, sobbing:

"Señorita! Señorita! I am afraid!"

The señorita was trembling, too, and her voice broke as she whispered:

"You and I don't make very good heroes, do we?"

They had come to a standstill and were clinging together in the dark. Suddenly there was a sound of something approaching – the velvet tread of an unshod pony in the sand!

The rider passed.

When they breathed again the señorita took him strongly by the shoulders.

"Riego," she whispered – and there was no break in her voice now – "we must separate. One of us must go straight to the ford and warn the patrol, the other to camp."

"But it is near the ford that Pacheco is hiding," the boy replied.

"I'll go to the ford," she said simply.

"No, my lady, I go – you take the news to camp." And before she could detain him the boy turned at a sharp angle and plunged into the deeper blackness of the chaparral.

*****

A long nightmare intervened between their parting and the time when the half-dead boy clung to the saddle of the patrol and whispered to him:

"Keep to the open, señor; there are men with knives in the chaparral! Help is coming!"

Then, somehow, everything was blotted out for Riego.

When consciousness came again to the boy, the cool air of the dawn was choked with dust clouds till he could not see ten feet before him and his ears were nearly bursting with the thunder-beat of frantic hoofs. Dim horses were rearing and plunging against the reddening dawn. There were shouts and cries and firing! Firing!

Who was losing? Who was winning?

Dear God, Alva's men were sweeping back across the Rio Grande!

One little frightened boy had saved the day for the country that had given him refuge from oppression.

But what was that? A call for help? Whose voice was that?

Riego plunged into the thick of the dust cloud toward the cry, and dropped by Pascual's side. How could he have known that his brother would ride that night with the invaders!

But Pascual was striving to speak. Riego leaned over him and caught the whisper:

"Lorente shot me down to get my horse and escape!"

And now the gringos were circling round the wounded one – they would beat out his brains with their guns! But – but – why, they were lifting him up, and tenderly! The Americans were lifting up his wounded brother!

*****

Many and bewildering were the things which happened to Riego in the next few hours. First, he and the all-but-dead Pascual were carried by the soldiers to the American camp. Then his brother was taken away from him and borne into a closed tent.

The soldiers gathered around Riego and patted him on the shoulder. They gave him many things – things to eat and coins and pocket-knives and tobacco-tags, all the while challenging him to smile – he whose captured brother was yonder!

Later the big captain sent for him and took him by the hand.

"Riego Yañez," he said, "I am proud to shake hands with an American hero!"

At length a tall soldier came to Riego and led him to the closed tent. But the tall soldier did not enter; he merely pushed the boy inside the tent and dropped the khaki flap.

Riego blinked his eyes. Somebody was lying stretched out on a cot, and somebody was fanning him – the Beautiful One and his brother! Riego crept toward her suddenly outstretched hands.

Then he leaned over Pascual. But Pascual's eyes were closed and on his face was a yellow pallor.

"The surgeon has taken out the ball," whispered the Beautiful One. "He will live, with good nursing, and I am on the job." She paused a moment, then asked, as she looked into his face with concern: "Aren't you happy, you tragic little soldier? Why don't you smile at the good news?"

"How – " began the child – and a strange, sick feeling swept over him – "how long before he will be well enough to be stood against a wall – and – "

"Why, you poor child!" – and the big tears sprang to the señorita's eyes – "your brother will not be stood against a wall and shot for treason – never —never! And he's not going to be shut up in prison, either!"

"Riego Yañez," he said. "I am proud to shake hands with an American hero!""But why, señorita? Why? The big captain knows that he was with Alva's men."

"But why, señorita? Why? The big captain knows that he was with Alva's men."

"He is young – just a boy," and the señorita laid a tender hand upon the head of the wounded lad. "He is the son of good parents and brother to – Oh, you tragic little soldier, can't you guess who it is has saved your brother?"

"You, señorita?"

"Yourself, Riego. Because you have been heroically loyal they are to give your brother another chance. We Americans, Riego" – and her white hand closed upon his own to include him with her – "we Americans are going to nurse Pascual back to a better life and teach him how to be free!"

The sick lad stirred on his cot.

When the Beautiful One leaned over him in quick solicitude, he smiled.