Chapter IX: Fiddlers Three

Black looks passed among the men as the duplicity of Schwandorf lay plain before their eyes. Tim growled. José hissed curses. The coronel whirled to him.

“José! What was his object in trying to destroy you and your crew? You have been his man. You know much about him. He wanted to stop your mouth, yes? Dead men tell no tales.”

The puntero’s eyes glittered. For a moment the others thought he was about to reveal important secrets. Then his face changed.

“I know no reason why we should be killed,” he declared.

“I do not believe you,” the coronel declared, bluntly.

José shrugged, calmly drank the coronel’s wine, lighted the coronel’s cigar, leaned back in the coronel’s chair, and eyed the coronel with imperturbable insolence.

“See here, José,” demanded McKay, “you’ve had something up your sleeve all along. Now come clean! What is it?”

José puffed airily at the cigar, saying nothing.

“What orders did Schwandorf give you?”

This time the reply came readily enough.

“To take you twenty-four days up the river and put you ashore. To prevent any trouble before that time.”

“Ah! And after that?”

“Nothing. At least, nothing to me. What may have been said to the other men I do not know. Schwandorf came to me last, after he had picked all the others.”

“And what do you know about Schwandorf?”

“What is between me and Schwandorf will be settled between me and Schwandorf. My duty to you señores lies only in handling the crew. Now that there is no crew my duty ends. Also, Capitan, I would like my pay now.”

“You quit?”

“Why not? I have done my best. I can do no more. I am crippled. I am of no further use to you. Give me my pay, a little food, a small canoe, and I go.”

“It is possible, Senhor José,” spoke the coronel, with ironic politeness, “that you may not go so soon. You have killed two men recently. You refuse to reveal some things which should be known about the German. Perhaps the law--”

José burst into a jeering laugh.

“Law? You speak of law? There is no law up the river but the law of the gun and the knife. And if there were, señor, what then? I killed in a fair fight. I killed men who would do murder. I killed on the west bank of the river--Peru. Neither you nor any other Brazilian can lay hand on me. And though I now have only one good arm, it will not be well for anyone to try to hold me. My knife and my right hand still are ready.”

“By cripes! the lad’s right!” Tim blurted, impulsively. “And I’ll tell the world I’m for him. He’s got a right to keep his mouth shut if he wants to. He don’t owe us nothin’. Mebbe he’s got somethin’ up his sleeve, at that; but he stuck with us in the pinch, and--”

“And we’ll give him a square deal, of course,” Knowlton cut in. “José, your own wages to this point, at a dollar a day, are eighteen dollars. The wages of the five other men to the place where they--quit--would aggregate seventy-five dollars. Grand total, ninety-three. The others chose to take their pay in lead instead of gold, so their account is closed. Therefore I suggest that their pay go to you as puntero, popero, and good sport. What say, Rod?”

“Make it a hundred flat,” McKay agreed.

“Right. A hundred in gold. Satisfy you, José?”

“Indeed yes, señor. I did not expect such generosity.”

“That’s all right, then. We’ll fix you up before we move on, and--Say! Are you in Schwandorf’s pay, too?”

José hesitated. Then he replied:

“Since you mention it, I will admit that el Aleman offered me certain inducements to make this journey. I now see that he had no intention of meeting his promises. But you can leave it to me to collect from him whatever may be due.”

Even the coronel nodded at this. The gleam in the Peruvian’s eyes presaged unpleasantness for Schwandorf.

“You gentlemen, of course, will not attempt to continue your journey for the present,” the coronel suggested. “You are fatigued and I shall greatly appreciate the pleasure of your companionship. New arrangements also will be necessary in the matter of a boat and men.”

“We’ve been wondering about getting another boat and a new crew,” Knowlton said, frankly. “The canoe we have is too big for three men to handle, and I’ll admit we’re tired. José, too, is in no shape to travel yet--”

“José, of course, is my guest also,” the old gentleman interrupted. “The question of new men can be solved. But there is time for everything, and now is the time for all of you to rest. As our proverb has it, ‘Devagar se vae ao longe‘--he goes far who goes slowly.”

McKay arose, glass in hand.

“To our host,” he bowed. The toast was drunk standing. Whereafter the host tapped the bell twice and ‘Tonio reappeared with a tray of fresh glasses. A toast to the United States by the coronel followed, and as soon as the black man arrived with a third round the Republic of Brazil was pledged. Then the coronel directed the servant:

“‘Tonio, if Pedro and Lourenço are outside, ask them to move the belongings of the gentlemen from the canoe. And make ready rooms for the guests.”

‘Tonio disappeared down the ladder. The coronel raised the violin, tendered it to the others, accepted their pleas to play it himself, and for the next half hour acquitted himself with no mean ability. Snatches of long-forgotten operas and improvisations of his own flowed from the strings in smooth harmony, hinting at bygone years amid far different surroundings for which his soul now hungered and to which he would return. Pedro and Lourenço, transporting the equipment, passed in and out soft-footed and almost unnoticed. At length the player, with a deprecatory smile and a half apology for “boring his guests,” extended the instrument again toward the visitors. And McKay, silent McKay, took it.

Sweet and low, out welled the haunting melody of “Annie Laurie.” Tim, who had listened with casual interest to the coronel’s music, now grinned happily. And when the plaintive Scotch song became “Kathleen Mavourneen” he closed his eyes and lay back in pure enjoyment. “The River Shannon” flowed into “The Suwanee River,” and this in turn blended into other heart-tugging airs of Dixieland. When the last strain died and the captain reached for his half-smoked cigar the room was silent for minutes.