The Jungle Trail

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The Jungle Trail

by Johnston McCulley

Author of "Two Bad Men," "Captain Fly-By-Night," "Wild Norene," etc., etc.

Chapter 1

CHAPTER I. IN THE PLAZA AT ANTIGUA.

NOW the siesta hour was at an end and the shadows lengthened on eastern sides of the buildings, and in these shadows sat sundry caballeros, some in purple and silks and others out-at-elbows, but all brave-hearted gentlemen, ready for a jest or a joust, a guzzle of wine, or the flashing look of admiration from the dark eyes of some señorita new-come from Spain.

'Twas pleasant weather for this little town of Santa Maria de Antigua del Darien, on the west coast of the Gulf of Uraba, a blue arm of the ever-sparkling Caribbean. Twas a pleasant time also, with the new governor and his following, loose of purse and free with supplies, and not exacting of labor to such an extent as the governor newly gone to Seville, his legs trembling in his boots because he knew King Ferdinand would propound queries for which he had no satisfactory answers.

Wherefore dice now rattled and men roared with laughter at each luckless cast, and the bottoms of many flagons of wine were seen quickly after those flagons had been filled. Here was a momentary joy in Antigua, frowned upon by certain caballeros who for years had followed Vasco Nunez de Balboa, and who now thought of their illustrious chief on the banks of the Rio Sabanas. where it flowed into the Great South Sea he had found, trying to build him some ships from rotten timbers that had been hauled through the jungle wilderness, to the cost of some thousands of native slaves.

These were the ones in rags, their uniforms in tatters, their metal body-casings tarnished—but their swords ever bright and easily slipped from scabbards. As they diced, they watched the gentlemen who recently had come with the governor and now flaunted their gorgeous raiment, ready to act if they saw a curling lip.

On the day when the ships arrived there had been divers combats because these gentlemen preferred to sneer at the tatters, forgetting for the time the blood flowing in the bodies the tatters clothed. And recently, because he had lost three good friends in this manner, the new governor had issued an edict anent brawling, promising all manner of evil consequences to any caballero who used his blade save for the profit of said governor and the glory of Spain.

Hence, a truce to a certain extent; yet the gentlemen of gorgeous raiment did not need force combat to demonstrate what they fondly believed to be their superiority. They paced the plaza with their noses in the air, expressing scorn for these others who had spent some years in the wilderness, and spoke among themselves in tones easily overheard of how a time away from civilization had caused some men to forget birth and breeding.

Yet always did they cease at the line of safety, for there were certain hot-headed ones who might forget the governor's edict in their anger; and the wilderness, moreover, had taught these ragged men courage and persistence and skill with a blade.

Now, one Señor Pasqual Garabito strode by arm-in-arm with a friend, depressing the hilt of his rapier with the one hand, while with the other he flicked a dainty handkerchief as he made gestures both graceful and elegant.

"’Tis the truth you speak." he said to his companion, but in a voice all near could hear. "’Tis no less than a shame to our governor that such ragamuffins be termed Spanish gentlemen. Ha! By the saints, it would be well if all them were sent with their ragged leader of a De Balboa to some far quarter from whence they'd ne'er return to plague us!"

One of the dicers arose from his place next the wall and stepped before the fastidious Garabito.

"‘Were that done, caballero," he replied, "no doubt the ragged De Balboa, as you term him, would discover yet another sea for the glory of Spain. I have yet to hear of any fair deed that will link the name of Pasqual Barabito with some famous page of history."

"Some of them, doubtless, are misfits in their own families," Garabito said, bending toward his friend and so ignoring the ragged dicer. "I take it many a proud father in Seville thanks the saints daily that an unworthy son remains across the seas."

"Caballeros, I call upon you to witness the truth of the words I spoke but yesterday." cried the other. "Did I not say that each ship from Spain fetched a worse cargo than the one before?"

"Well spoken, Rodrigo Ruiz; it is indeed true!" another dicer called.

"Of a truth, though," said this same Rodrigo Ruiz, "we fail to keep abreast the times. Here in the wilderness how can a man know the latest manner of twirling a handkerchief? 'Tis, I understand, to be done so at this day—"

He tore a tatter from his ragged garment and twirled it merrily in imitation of Pasqual Garabito's handkerchief, while the dicers roared with raucous laughter and the face of Garabito turned almost purple because of his fury. Yet he would not admit the presence of Rodrigo Ruiz on the earth.

"Could I prevail upon our worthy governor to renounce his edict," he explained to his friend, "it would be a great pleasure to teach some of these ragged ones good manners."

"A man must have knowledge before he may dispense it," observed Ruiz, to no one in particular. "Could I prevail upon our governor to remove said edict, it would be a great pleasure to rip some new garments with the point of my blade. Yet the governor will not: he must protect his friends."

"Careful, Rodrigo," another dicer warned in a low voice. "Nothing would please certain gentlemen more than to make a cry of high treason."

"I fear me for my good friend Bartolmeo Botello," Ruiz went on, his back now turned to Garabito. "He has issued certain orders, I understand, and may be forced to see them carried out, edict or no edict."

Now the face of Pasqual Garabito turned purple again, and this time he did not reply as if speaking to his friend, but grasped his companion by the arm and turned to one side, toward the shore of the gulf.

"Let us hasten, good friend, before I forget myself in my anger and disobey the governor's new regulation," he said. "This thing is not to be endured for long without action."

Ruiz roared with his companions, and as Garabito and his friend departed, he sat down again in the shadow of the wall and picked up the dice.

"What is that," one asked, "concerning Bartolmeo Botello?"

"You do not know?" Ruiz queried in surprise. "Hah! 'Twas but yesterday, and you should have seen it."

"Yesterday, caballero, I was in the midst of the wilderness seeking a native thief."

"I had forgotten. It was a royal happening. Know, then, that Bartolmeo Botello, my good friend and friend to Vasco Nunez de Balboa, arrived from the coast of the Great South Sea some ten days ago with certain reports."

"We all know that, señor."

"Allow me sufficient breath to tell this tale in my own manner. He arrived ten days ago, as I have said, a month after the last ships came from Spain: and on his first clay here this Bartolmeo—may the saints prosper his suit!—meets the sparkling eyes of Señorita Inez Malpartida—"

"Whom may the saints preserve!" an admirer interrupted.

"Did I ever see infatuation at first glance, I saw it then," Ruiz continued. "My friend Bartolmeo, being of a blood, immediately sought the señorita's father, and by some manner of means obtained an introduction to the lady. I doubt not that within two suns he had held speech with her outside the range of her duenna's ears. Ah, that Bartolmeo!"

"’Tis a fair romance, but what has it to do with this Pasqual Garabito?" the other asked.

"Softly, friend; allow me breath. This same Pasqual you have named long has been eager to claim favor of the lady, standing even in the good graces of her father. But once she had set eyes on Botello, she would have none of Garabito. Because of this Garabito urges his suit with fervor, to the distaste of the fair Inez and Bartolmeo Botello. You follow, señor?"

"Si, and for too great a distance. Come to the point of the tale, good Ruiz, has it a point!"

"It has a myriad points. My friend Bartolmeo Botello, being a caballero true, would be courteous to a rival, of a certainty, and take no undue advantage. But it transpired that he had heard three days ago of a certain dusky native maid who had listened to the smooth speech of this Pasqual Garabito. It enraged my good friend that a man who would mistreat a native maid would, at the same time, pay court to a señorita of family and breeding. Wherefore he issued him his order."

"The order, man, before I slay you!"

"’Twas yesterday at this hour that Bartolmeo Botello met this Pasqual Garabito face to face in the shadow of the church yonder. In tones that could be heard all over the plaza, he informed this Pasqual Garabito that he knew of his little indiscretions, and that such a man should not presume on his birth and name to mingle with honorable folk. Pasqual Garabito, said my good friend, was at liberty to take the air of the plaza during the night or in the early morning hours, but should not presume to allow himself to be seen by honest folk in afternoon or evening—"

"Hah! Forbade him the plaza?"

"You have guessed it! Forbade him the plaza after the siesta hour, and promised dire consequences did this Pasqual Garabito dare disobey."

"And he has disobeyed!"

"He has. Had he not, he would have been termed craven, since all Antigua heard Botello's words."

"And to follow—"

"To follow there comes a row, else I mistake my good friend," Ruiz admitted. "And a row means the disfavor of the governor, and possibly punishment no Spanish gentleman should be forced to undergo. And were my good friend Botello in the midst of a dark plot, his chances for happiness could not be more ill. For there is yet another angle to the affair."

"This is news!" half a dozen cried.

"There is another fair maid of Spain who came by the recent ship. I refer to Señorita Carlotta Bonilla. It does not become me to speak of a young lady save in terms of courtesy and respect: but I must allow I like not the look in the Señorita Bonilla's face. Too much character shines forth from her dark eyes—character of the wrong sort."

"True," another said. "I would not be her enemy."

"This same Carlotta Bonilla has set eyes upon my friend Botello. 'Tis not discourtesy to tell it, since the señorita herself openly shows the state of her affections. Yet Botello, being infatuated with Señorita Inez, cannot observe the good qualities of Señorita Carlotta. The affair is now plain to you, comrades?"

"Not as yet," one answered.

"Why Carlotta loves Bartolmeo Botello, who loves Inez, who is sought by Pasqual Garabito. Put it not past the Señorita Carlotta to join forces with this Pasqual for the purpose of keeping Bartolmeo and Inez from each other's arms. Gladly would Garabito see Botello cold in death, and gladly would this Señorita Carlotta also, did he spurn her love, which most certainly he'll do! One must be in Seville and at court to perceive romance, eh? Hah! I think it not!"

"One woman can cause trouble enough for any man. May the saints preserve the caballero who has two on his trail!" a dicer wailed. "Let us on with the game, and await the meeting of Botello with this fine Pasqual Garabito!"

Now a soft breeze came up from the gulf to stir the foliage and make more endurable the heat of the afternoon, and now the great doors of the governor's domicil were thrown open by native slaves, and more caballeros, gorgeously dressed, fared forth into the plaza, his excellency among them.

They fawned at his feet, these caballeros, for already they had discovered that here, far removed from Seville, the word of the governor carried much weight, and also they hoped to profit by their friendship with him, since there was yet gold to be torn from some of the Indian tribes.

Ladies came into the bright sunshine of the plaza, too, some on the arms of their husbands or fathers, the señoritas with their grim duennas trailing after them as a bad dream haunts a man.

The Señorita Inez Malpartida was the first of these—a dainty bit of femininity, with tiny feet twinkling beneath silken skirts and tiny hands grasping the folds of her mantilla, and black eyes that sparkled and dimples that played about a perfect chin, and black hair in a mass, a high comb glittering in the back of it. She smiled upon the caballeros, upon the servile natives, at the trees and the buildings and tine gulf—smiled upon life in the concrete with the optimism of twenty years.

Her progress across the plaza toward the church was in the nature of a procession by royalty, for men ranged themselves on either sides in rows, and bowed until they almost touched the ground, rising quickly in the hope of getting a look direct from her flashing eyes.

There is character for you," Ruiz whispered to a comrade. "Soft as silk she is, and dainty; but for the man she loved she would endure hardships. You can read it in her eyes."

Those eyes were roaming over the plaza now, in a manner, for Señorita Inez did not dare betray too much anxiety, else her father, to whose arm she clung, might notice, or her duenna observe and give rebuke at a later hour. When she failed to see the broad shoulders of Bartolmeo Botello, her pretty lips formed in a pout for an instant, but soon she was smiling again.

The governor stopped before the church to chat with a fray, and the caballeros grouped around him and others in the procession drew up. Then the governor went back to his house with a few close friends, for he had letters to write to Spain; and the ladies held court in turn, while caballeros crowded forward.

Thus it happened that Inez Malpartida and Carlotta Bonilla came face to face under the eyes of their fathers, and were forced to observe the conventionalities of good breeding, though it pained them to keep back the angry words and prevent eyes flashing hatred. Though no speech had passed between them on the subject nearest their hearts, yet, woman-wise, both understood, and they would have avoided each other.

"A beautiful day. Señorita Malpartida," Carlotta observed, just the suspicion of a sneer upon her lips.

"Rarely beautiful, I thank you, señorita," Inez replied, bending her head graciously for an instant.

"Have you seen my new bauble of gold? Señor Garabito asked permission of my father to present it me as a souvenir of this land of wilderness."

Carlotta extended a shapely arm, upon which a bracelet dangled.

"’Tis rarely pretty," Inez said, neither too much admiration nor any disparagement in her voice.

"Señor Garabito, as you know, is a wealthy caballero to whom such a bauble is as nothing," Carlotta went on. "He purchases them by the score as gifts for his friends in Spain. You are fortunate, señorita, to have such a man for adorer."

"I care not to hear praises of Señor Garabito," Inez said. "And some men are courageous enough to go into the wilderness and gather such baubles for themselves. I believe I'd prize one obtained in that way vastly more. Any with money may purchase."

Now the fathers of the two señoritas had stepped aside to discuss certain matters of local politics, and the girls were alone, for their duennas were some distance away on the steps of the church, content to remain sitting there in the shade as long as no caballero approached their charges. Thus, masks could be dropped for a moment and words spoken that might have been held back had any other been close enough to overhear.

"What you say is true," Carlotta spoke softly, yet with a hard expression in her face. "I have commissioned a caballero to gather me such a bauble with his own hands. He has promised to take it from the very person of a native cacique, even the head cacique of the great wilderness."

"Indeed?" Inez purred.

"As a mark of devotion he will do it. Mayhap it will be necessary for me to hide it from my duenna's prying eyes; yet a girl always can protect a love-token. I hope to have it soon. I believe you have met the caballero. He is one of Vasco Nunez's men, Señor Bartolmeo Botello."

"I have met him," Inez admitted, smiling faintly.

"When he protested his devotion, at a time my duenna was asleep in her chair, I asked him for a token. Then it was he promised to get me the bauble, though he suffer wounds in the getting of it. Is it not rare to be loved by such a courageous man?"

"It will take as great courage, señorita, for you to face your father confessor after that statement," Inez suggested.

"You doubt it, then?"

"So much that I term it a falsehood deliberately given," Inez replied.

Black eyes flashed into black eyes. Carlotta Bonilla bit her pretty lips an instant, then held her head high, and would have started away to rejoin her father, but the low voice of Inez Malpartida reached her ears again.

"Since you have shown me your bauble, allow me to show you mine," she purred. "You may observe it beneath my sleeve. It came from the breast of an Indian cacique, señorita, even the Great Cacique of the wilderness, and is set with gorgeous pearls."

"Indeed?"

"Señor Bartolmeo Botello gave it me. Mayhap it is the one he intended giving you, and changed his mind upon more mature reflection."

Señorita Carlotta Bonilla did turn away now and hurried to her father's side, begging him to take her straightaway to their house, walking so swiftly beside him (while he asked whether she had a sudden illness) that her duenna struggled to keep them in sight.

And Señorita Inez Malpartida, her heart singing a little song, smiled eloquently and turned to her own father, to cling to his arm and acknowledge the greetings of such caballeros as came forward, who were many.

Chapter 2

CHAPTER II. "ANOTHER TATTER."

SEÑORITA INEZ MALPARTIDA'S eyes continually roamed the plaza, and after a time her face flushed prettily, and she began talking swiftly about nothing much at all to cover her confusion. For now she observed the broad shoulders of Bartolmeo Botello as they were thrust through the crowd. Once she met his eyes, and then there were men between them again, and she turned to hold conversation with those nearest, knowing well Botello would approach after a time and greet her as if it were merely a pleasant duty, trying hard to hide the love in his eyes and hoping for a word with her alone, yet knowing he would not get it.

And then she saw Señor Garabito approaching from the opposite direction, for he had been walking along the shore with his friend, and a dark look came into her face. She knew this Garabito had been in the good graces Of her father, and if he approached now, her father would see that she held conversation with him, while Bartolmeo Botello would be forced to wait in the distance. That would mean that Botello would have time for nothing more than the smallest greeting, for already the moment approached when her lather would return her to the house.

But, to her wonder, her father turned and witnessed the approach of Garabito also, and calling Inez's duenna to her duty, stepped a few paces away to meet the man.

"A greeting to you, Señor Malpartida," Garabito called. "I am coming to pay my respects—"

"A moment," said Malpartida, in a stern voice. "It has come to my ears that certain things have been said concerning your relations with a native maid."

"Primarily, señor, the words were spoken by an out-at-elbows follower of the ragged De Balboa who likes me not. In the second instance, cannot a caballero amuse himself now and then with a likely looking bronze wench?"

"This is not Seville, señor, where intrigues are smiled at and kept under cover. This is the wilderness where but a few of us reside, and where a man may make no ulterior move without it becoming known. You have done me the honor to seek permission to pay your court to my daughter, señor, and I have looked upon your suit with some favor. But now that your name has been upon every tongue—"

"On the tongue of a ragged scapegrace!" Garabito interrupted, hotly.

"Yet men have heard his words and have failed to hear your denial of their truth, señor."

"Would you have me utter falsehood?" asked Garabito.

"I would have you so conduct yourself that there would be no need of uttering falsehood."

"What are your wishes in the matter, Señor Malpartida?" Garabito asked, something of anger in his tone.

"This ragged scapegrace, as he is in your words, is a caballero of good birth, señor, even though he is not well clothed. And he has said—"

"Pardon, señor! Are you so blind that you do not see this Señor Botello looks with favor upon your fair daughter and so seeks to malign me?"

"He mentioned no lady's name, señor, as I regret you have done. He said, I understand, that you were to refrain from approaching respectable folk."

"And you subscribe to that sentiment, señor?"

"Only in so far as my own family is concerned, caballero. Allow me to suggest that you drop this Indian maid—give her gold and send her away—"

"Gold? She has more than I have!"

"Anything to get her away. Conduct yourself for a time as a pattern of virtue. When this matter has been forgotten it will be time for you to consider my daughter again."

"And, in the mean time, this ragged Señor Botello will pay his court, eh?"

"Señor!" Old 'Malpartida's voice trembled with anger as he spoke the word, and for an instant he touched the hilt of his rapier, which he wore as a matter of style rather than for service; for it had been some years since Señor Malpartida had drawn blade in offense or to repel attack.

"Your pardon!" Garabito was quick to say. "I am angered beyond proper speech, goaded into forgetting my breeding by this follower of De Balboa who has seen fit to attack me with his sneers. Did not our governor forbid, I'd run blade through the lying braggart!"

Several caballeros heard that statement, for Garabito had raised his voice. Rodrigo Ruiz heard it, and he half drew his blade from its scabbard to defend the reputation of his friend, but a comrade grasped him by the arm and whispered two things—that the governor's edict was still in force, and that Bartolmeo Botello desired to handle his own quarrels.

Moreover, Botello himself heard it, even as he stepped before Señorita Inez and bowed his best and wished her an excellent day: his face did not change color and his hand did not touch the hilt of his weapon; only by a quick narrowing of the eyes did he show that he had observed the words and the speaker.

So, when old Malpartida turned his back on Señor Garabito and faced his daughter again, it was a smiling and courteous Botello who spoke to him, bowed low, and stepped back. And Malpartida, his daughter clinging to his arm and wishing she dared look back, and with the duenna tripping along behind, walked across the plaza toward the governor's house, his head held high, like the grandee he was in reality.

Botello turned aside with Ruiz, not once looking in Garabito's direction, for there remained some ladies in the plaza, and it was not the proper time to settle differences or pick a quarrel. Near one end of the church wall they stood to watch men flinging the dice, Botello laughing as loud as any at the mishaps of the unlucky ones.

"Did you not hear?" Ruiz asked, under his breath.

"I heard, my friend," Botello answered.

"With what result?"

"We shall see that presently."

"It is a pretty pass, Bartolmeo. Here he has dared defy you, and you cannot call him to account for it without defying the governor," Ruiz said.

"Perchance he thought of that when he dared show himself in the plaza."

"Moreover, he is one of his excellency's closest friends. To quarrel with him may go hard with you."

"Yet there must be some justice, even in such a governor as this we have. This is the year fifteen hundred and fifteen, my friend, an enlightened age."

"I pick no quarrel with the age, Bartolmeo. But there be men living in it—"

"Who should cease to live—I agree with you!"

"You'd not dare—"

"The pretty caballero has gone too far, I vow. Lying braggart, eh? By the saints—"

"But, if you run him through—"

"It remains to be seen what may happen, good Rodrigo. Let us not concern ourselves with it until after all the ladies have left the plaza."

Rodrigo Ruiz glanced around, and then plucked quickly at his friend's tattered sleeve.

"The cowardly knave has taken advantage of that, also," he said. "First, he believes himself safe because of his excellency's edict, and now he knows you will start no quarrel while there are ladies near. So he swaggers across the plaza toward the governor's house, timing himself to arrive as the last of the ladies are leaving the plaza. He can say he defied you and suffered no harm, not even a word!"

"Hah!" Botello roared, and whirled in turn. Ruiz, he saw, had spoken truth. Garabito was swaggering across the plaza, affecting nonchalance, and he would reach the doors of the governor's house as the last of the señores and señoritas disappeared.

Now Botello sprang forward and walked with great strides to intercept his foe, and men ceased throwing the dice to watch, and from all quarters caballeros sauntered forward, anticipating a sensation and a break in the monotony of Antigua.

"A moment, Señor Garabito!" Botello called.

Garabito looked over his shoulder, slackened his stride, stopped with his hand on the arm of his friend, for such a loud summons could not be ignored unless a charge of cowardice stood.

"Well, señor?" he asked, his lip curling in a sneer, and still twirling the silk handkerchief.

"I apprehend you, señor," Botello said, in a smooth voice, "to change my orders somewhat. Yesterday I told you to remain away from the plaza at any hour when decent folk were abroad. Now I must request that you remain in it, at least until the ladyfolk have entered their houses."

"Indeed, señor? And wherefore?"

"That it will not be necessary for me to call you to account in the presence of gentle nerves that cannot endure a quarrel. Also to prove to these caballeros and myself that you are not purposely quitting the plaza too quickly to avoid any consequences that may be coming to you."

"You question my courage, señor?" Garabito thundered.

"I do not admit, señor, that you have any to question."

"This is not to be endured!"

"Yet, perforce, you endure it!"

"’Tis beneath my dignity as a caballero and a friend of His Majesty. Ferdinand—whom God preserve—to exchange words with such as you. In Seville—"

"’Tis not Seville, señor, but Antigua, that is cursed with your presence at this time. Were it not that I feel called upon to protect honest folk, it would be beneath my dignity to address you."

"Dignity—in rags?" Garabito scoffed.

"Si, señor! Dignity in rags! There you may mark the true caballero, when his dignity is to be observed through his rags—not that I seek to praise myself, but to damn you more! I count it dignity, señor, to have followed the intrepid De Balboa across the jungle to the Great South Sea, which, I believe, you never have set your eyes upon. My tatters were gained in the service of Spain, señor, and that same king whom you but now wished God to preserve. What hard spots are on my hands came from wielding blade, perhaps, and not from twirling a handkerchief!"

"You are modest concerning yourself!" Garabito observed.

"There was a method in it, señor. Self praise is repugnant to me, but I could think of no other subject quickly. My oratory, you will observe, has served to hold you here until the last of the ladies are gone. If you look about, you will see that the plaza is free of femininity now. My object has been served."

Garabito snarled as a rapid glance around the plaza proved the truth of Botello's words.

"Now—to business, señor!" Botello went on. "Yesterday I told you not to show your face on the plaza at this hour. You have seen fit to disobey my orders."

"Where get you authority to issue such orders, señor? Are you governor, by any chance?"

"The saints forbid! I have useful work to do."

"Is this treason?"

"Let us not change the subject," Botello persisted. "I say you disobeyed my orders."

There was silence then for a moment, while Garabito sputtered in his sudden burst of rage, for he could restrain himself no longer before this man.