The Best Western Novels of William MacLeod Raine. William MacLeod Raine
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at O'Halloran as he entered, as if asking for guidance, and then as questioningly at Megales. Had the Irishman played Judas and betrayed them all? Or was the coup already played with success?
“Colonel Onate, I have sent for you at the request of Governor Megales to set his mind at rest on a disturbing point. His health is failing and he considers the advisability of retiring from the active cares of state. I have assured him that you, among others, would, under such circumstances, be in a friendly relation to the next administration. Am I correct in so assuring him?”
Megales pierced him with his beady eyes. “In other words, Colonel Onate, are you one of the traitors involved in this rebellion?”
“I prefer the word patriot, senor,” returned Onate, flushing.
“Indeed I have no doubt you do. I am answered,” he exclaimed scornfully. “And what is the price of patriotism these days, colonel?”
“Sir!” The colonel laid his hand on his sword.
“I was merely curious to know what position you would hold under the new administration.”
O'Halloran choked a laugh, for by chance the governor had hit the nail on the head. Onate was to be Secretary of State under Valdez, and this was the bait that had been dangled temptingly under his nose to induce a desertion of Megales.
“If you mean to reflect upon my honor I can assure you that my conscience is clear,” answered Onate blackly.
“Indeed, colonel, I do not doubt it. I have always admired your conscience and its adaptability.” The governor turned to O'Halloran. “I am satisfied, Senior Dictator. If you will permit me—”
He walked to his desk, unlocked a drawer, and drew forth a parchment, which he tossed across to the Irishman. “It is my commission as governor. Allow me to place it in your hands and put myself at the service of the new administration.”
“If you will kindly write notes, I will send a messenger to General Carlo and another to Colonel Gabilonda requesting their attendance. I think affairs may be quickly arranged.”
“You are irresistible, senor. I hasten to obey.”
Megales sat down and wrote two notes, which he turned over to O'Halloran. The latter read them, saw them officially sealed, and dispatched them to their destinations.
When Gabilonda was announced, General Carlo followed almost at his heels. The latter glanced in surprise at O'Halloran.
“Where did you catch him, excellency?” he asked.
“I did not catch him. He has caught me, and, incidentally, you, general,” answered the sardonic Megales.
“In short, general,” laughed the big Irishman, “the game is up.”
“But the army—You haven't surrendered without a fight?”
“That is precisely what I have done. Cast your eye over that paper, general, and then tell me of what use the army would be to us. Half the officers are with the enemy, among them the patriotic Colonel Onate, whom you see present. A resistance would be futile, and would only result in useless bloodshed.”
“I don't believe it,” returned Carlo bluntly.
“Seeing is believing, general,” returned O'Halloran, and he gave a little nod to Onate.
The colonel left the room, and two or three minutes later a bell began to toll.
“What does that mean?” asked Carlo.
“The call to arms, general. It means that the old regime is at an end in Chihuahua. VIVA VALDEZ.”
“Not without a struggle,” cried the general, rushing out of the room.
O'Halloran laughed. “I'm afraid he will not be able to give the countersign to Garcia. In the meantime, excellency, pending his return, I would suggest that you notify Colonel Gabilonda to turn over the prison to us without resistance.”
“You hear your new dictator, colonel,” said Megales.
“Pardon me, your excellency, but a written order—”
“Would relieve you of responsibility. So it would. I write once more.”
He was interrupted as he wrote by a great shout from the plaza. “VIVA VALDEZ!” came clearly across the night air, and presently another that stole the color from the cheek of Megales.
“Death to the tyrant! Death to Megales!” repeated the governor, after the shouts reached them.
“I fear, Senor Dictator, that your pledge to see me across the frontier will not avail against that mad-dog mob.” He smiled, waving an airy hand toward the window.
The Irishman set his bulldog jaw. “I'll get you out safely or, begad! I'll go down fighting with you.”
“I think we are likely to have interesting times, my dear dictator. Be sure I shall watch your doings with interest so long as your friends allow me to watch anything in this present world.” The governor turned to his desk and continued the letter with a firm hand. “I think this should relieve you of responsibility, colonel.”
By this time General Carlo had reentered the room, with a crestfallen face.
O'Halloran had been thinking rapidly. “Governor, I think the safest place for you and General Carlo, for a day or two, will be in the prison. I intend to put my friend O'Connor in charge of its defense, with a trustworthy command. There is no need of word reaching the mob as to where you are hidden. I confess the quarters will be narrows but—”
“No narrower than those we shall occupy very soon if we do not accept your suggestion,” smiled Megales. “Buertos! Anything to escape the pressing attentions of your friends outside. I ask only one favor, the loan of a revolver, in order that we may disappoint the mad dogs if they overpower the guard of Senor O'Connor.”
Hastily O'Halloran rapped out orders, gathered together a little force of five men, and prepared to start. Both Carlo and Megales he furnished with revolvers, that they might put an end to their lives in case the worst happened. But before they had started Juan Valdez and Carmencita Megales came running toward them.
“Where are you going? It is too late. The palace is surrounded!” cried the young man. “Look!” He swept an excited arm toward the window. “There are thousands and thousands of frenzied people calling for the lives of the governor and General Carlo.”
Carlo shook like a leaf, but Megales only smiled at O'Halloran his wintry smile. “That is the trouble in keeping a mad dog, senor. One never knows when it may get out of leash and bite perhaps even the hand that feeds it.”
Carmencita flung herself, sobbing, into the arms of her father and filled the palace with her screams. Megales handed her over promptly to her lover.
“To my private office,” he ordered briskly. “Come, general, there is still a chance.”
O'Halloran failed to see it, but he joined the little group that hurried to the private office. Megales dragged his desk from the corner where it set and touched a spring that opened a panel in the wall. Carlo, blanched with fear at the threats and curses that filled the night, sprang toward the passageway that appeared.
Megales plucked him back. “One moment, general. Ladies first. Carmencita, enter.”
Carlo followed her, after him the governor, and lastly Gabilonda, tearing himself from a whispered conversation with O'Halloran. The panel swung closed again, and Valdez and O'Halloran lifted back the desk just as Garcia came running in to say that the mob would not be denied. Immediately O'Halloran threw open a French window and stepped out to the little railed porch upon which it opened. He had the chance of his life to make a speech, and that is the one thing that no Irishman can resist. He flung out from his revolver three shots in rapid succession to draw the attention of the mob to him. In this he succeeded beyond his hopes. The word ran like wildfire that the mad Irishman, O'Halloran, was about to deliver a message to