CHAPTER XII.

O'ROURKE TO THE RESCUE

Penthouse (still known to the army as Señor Cuddlehead) sat in the colonel's bedroom in an unenviable frame of mind. He had been a fool to show himself to Hemming. He had been a fool to put any faith in these niggers. Why, the little cowards were afraid to break into the house,--afraid to face five white men and a couple of women. And now that Hemming had seen him again, and again in a decidedly unfavourable light, what mercy could he expect if Hemming ever got out of the President's villa? Whatever he could do must be done quickly. He looked at the colonel, who lay in drunken half-slumber on the bed.

"You don't seem to be carrying out our plans," he said.

The Brazilian groaned, and muttered something in his own tongue, which, fortunately, the other could not translate. "We must carry off the women to-night. Our chances of getting what we want lessen every hour. If help comes from the coast, then what will happen? Half a dozen men could run your dirty army out of the country." With every unheeded word, Penthouse's anger grew. The colonel sprawled there, murmuring that he felt very ill. Penthouse jumped up and shook him violently.

"Wake up, you drunken hog!" he shouted; "wake up, and get to work."

The colonel opened his eyes.

"The ladies--they are gone. They went--long ago."

He closed his eyes again.

"You fool!" cried Penthouse, trembling with rage and disappointment, "you fool, didn't I tell you to put a guard on the boat, and to surround the house?"

"The guard went--to Pedro's--to buy wine. I did not hear till to-day. I was angry," replied the Brazilian, in a faint and broken voice.

"To buy wine," echoed the white man, in a tragic cry. Failure grinned at him again. Even in battle and murder he could not succeed. He almost found it in him to regret the vagrant, hungry days on the London streets, when he went up and down among familiar faces, tattered and disguised. He was at home there, at least, and knew the tricks of the place. But here, hunted by Hemming for a murderer, penniless, and among strangers,--Lord, one would be better dead.

"Hemming must never get away from that house," he whispered to himself.

The colonel snorted and choked in his heavy sleep. For a few minutes the broken Englishman looked at him intently. Then he walked over to a small table by the window. "There is still liquor that I don't have to pay for," he said, and lifted the bottle.

Through the President's gardens and the streets of the little town, the troopers sauntered and smoked, awaiting further orders from their colonel for the undoing of the passive enemy.

"The colonel and Señor Cuddlehead are closeted together," said a subaltern to a sergeant, "so before dark we shall have our money."

"But the ladies have gone," replied the sergeant. "They went away in the President's steamer while the guard was shaking dice at Pedro's."

"How do you know that?" argued the officer. "No one saw them go. Of course they keep away from the windows."

"The General Hemming would see that we got our money, if the ladies were in any danger," said the other, conclusively. But the subaltern shook his head.

"You don't know these fools of Englishmen as well as I do," he said. "They would rather have their own grandmothers shot than pay out any money."

"But," retorted the sergeant, with a knowing look, "it is not the general's money we want, but the President's. He would force the old man to pay, if the ladies were in peril. No, the women have gone with the steamer, I am sure."

"Englishmen are stubborn brutes," replied the officer, unconvinced, "and besides, my friend, this Hemming believes that with his own right arm he is able to defend the house against us. Also, my friend, why should he give us Tetson's money until we force him to? It may all be his some day."

The besieged wondered why more shooting was not done. What fun could the little men find in a smokeless revolution? Did they still cling to the hope of receiving back pay? Did they still believe the family to be in the villa? Hemming, seated by the window, with his rifle across his knees, wondered when they would begin to humble his arrogance. Valentine Hicks, eating quinine and prowling from room to room, and window to window, with his Winchester under his arm, lived over and over again his parting with Marion. Smith, armed like a pirate, and itching for a fight, was happier than he had ever been. He had a heavy strain of the bulldog in him, had this valet named Smith, also a fine respect for gentlemen, and a love of their companionship.

It was dark in the gardens. Smith was downstairs in the billiard-room, motionless and wide awake. Hemming and Hicks were smoking, one on each side of the upper hall window, which overlooked the front steps, the driveway, and the great gates.

"The poor fellows will be sadly disappointed when they get in and find the Tetsons and the money gone," remarked Hemming, calmly, "though their stupidity in thinking them still here beats me."

"There are some things of value in the house," replied Hicks.

"Oh, yes; they might melt the silver," suggested Hemming, "but the furniture would bother them. Of course they will tear up the place, and pot us, and try to get revenge that way."

"Yes," replied Hicks, "but I have a little stone about me." He opened his linen tunic, and unfastened a narrow cartridge-belt. "I wear it next my skin," he said, "and it galls me a bit sometimes." He drew a brass shell from one of the loops and with his penknife extracted a cork and a wad of cotton wool. Then he shook something white and rough, but glowing dimly, into the palm of Hemming's hand. He laughed softly.

"The bridegroom's gift to the bride," he said,--"if the bridegroom gets to the church."

Hemming gazed at it in silence.

"Cut and polished, what would it be worth?" asked its owner. His voice was low and eager. He placed a trembling hand on his friend's knee.

"I have seen diamonds in the rough before," replied Hemming, "but never one as large as this. Brazilian stones vary a good deal in quality. It may stand for a fortune, or perhaps for nothing more than a respectable cottage, with stables, a paddock, and an orchard, and maybe a shooting in Scotland."

"That would do for us," said Hicks, grinning like a schoolboy. "Old Tetson could manage the orchard, and Mrs. Tetson could see that he didn't get his feet wet." For a few moments he seemed to be following this dream of bucolic bliss.

Then he continued: "I bought it in Pernambuco last December from a drunken sailor, a cook or something like that, who had run away from a wind-jammer. He didn't think much of it. It had been given him by an old woman,--at least, so he said, but more likely he stole it. I paid fifteen _milreis_ for it,--fifteen _milreis_, with the exchange at ninepence."

"Put it away," said Hemming, "and keep that belt next your hide, no matter how much it galls."

Hicks replaced the stone in the empty shell, and the shell in his belt.

"And she thinks I haven't a cent," he whispered. "Isn't she a brick?"

The Englishman leaned back, out of range of the open window, and relit his cigar. Suddenly Hicks bent forward, listening.

"Did you hear that?" he said.

But Hemming had heard no unusual sound, only the footsteps of their guards, and the noise of men singing at the barracks.

"It's the first time I have heard an old 'Sam Peabody' in Brazil," said the American.

"Who?" said Hemming, wondering if his friend's temperature had gone up again.

"It's a bird, some sort of sparrow we have in the North," replied Hicks. He left the hall quietly, and hung out of a window in his own room. Presently, from the shrubbery below him, came the familiar notes again. He wet his lips with his tongue, and whistled the clear call himself. He was answered immediately. He peered down into the dim garden. The only light was that of the stars. He could see nothing. No leaf stirred in the shrubbery, and there was neither sight nor sound of the enemy on that side of the house.

"If you don't intend to let us in," said a quiet voice, "you might pass out a couple of drinks."

"Whiskey and soda for me," said the voice of Captain Santosa.

Hicks ran down-stairs, and Hemming followed him. They unbarred a window, and Smith stood ready with his rifle at port. In crawled O'Rourke and Santosa, very wet as to clothing, but very dry inside.

"The Campbells have arrived," said O'Rourke, brushing mud from his leggings. Hemming, for a moment, was dumbfounded at this unexpected appearance.

"God bless you, Bertram," he said at last, and they shook hands warmly.

"I thought, a few days ago, that it was chance that brought me to Brazil," said O'Rourke, "but really, little fellow, it must have been your guardian angel. What a chap you are for getting into silly messes. There seems to be a row whenever you arrive."

"This row is not Hemming's fault," protested Hicks. O'Rourke and Hemming laughed happily, for both felt that, together, they could pull out of the worst scrape ever invented.

"This gentleman would come," said Santosa, "and at a pace that nearly wore me to the bone."

Just then Smith held a tray toward the late arrivals.

"We left McPhey organizing a relief expedition to come by land," O'Rourke informed them, after quenching his thirst, "and the major, after doing his business, will bring a party up by boat,--a company or two of government troops."

"Where did you leave the horses?" asked Hemming.

"Up the trail a little way, with a dusky admirer of yours," replied O'Rourke.

The besieged returned to the upper hall. Hicks gave a clear though somewhat lengthy account of the rebellion. Santosa told them of his ride to Pernambuco and O'Rourke gave such news as he could of the outside world. Hemming, with his eyes on the dark blue square of the window, tried to formulate a plan by which five men might protect themselves and the property against five hundred a day or two longer. He knew that, if the colonel really intended violence, the crisis must soon come.

Santosa kicked off his boots, and went to sleep on the floor. Hicks, seated with his rifle across his knees, also slipped away to the land of Nod.

"If you have no objections," remarked O'Rourke, "I will take a bath. Hope the enemy won't make any hostile move while I'm splashing."

Hemming lit another cigar, and continued his watch by the open window. His arm pained him a good deal, so it was not hard to keep awake. He heard the guards tramping about, and now and then a few words of conversation, or a snatch of laughter. He heard music and shouting in the distance, and sometimes the faint and hurried clatter of hoofs. All the windows in the town seemed alight. A cool wind stole across the palms. His thoughts left the foolish, drunken men without, and the adventurers within, and journeyed, with the wind, far beyond the black palms and the little city. The report of a rifle brought him to his feet with a jump. Hicks also was out of his chair. Santosa was pulling on his boots. They hurried down-stairs followed by O'Rourke in a bath-towel.

"If it's a fight," said O'Rourke, "I'll dry myself and join you. If it's just skirmishing, I'll go back to my tub."

They found Smith at his post in the billiard-room.

"What is the trouble?" asked Hemming.

"Family quarrel, I believe, sir," replied the valet. "Two people have been talking English for quite awhile, just a little way off that window. Then some one fired a shot, and they dusted. Think it was one of the guards, sir, who fired. Drunk, I suppose."

"What were they talking about?" asked Hemming.

"Well, sir, I couldn't catch much of it," replied Smith, "but there was something said about Mr. Tetson's steamer, the _Alligator_, and about the firemen and engineers being prisoners. From what I could gather, she was captured about half a mile down-stream to-night on her way up. One of the men said that he had got a job on her, because he had some important business to attend to up here."

"The devil!" exclaimed Hicks. "I bet they had a letter for me."