the night-born-第29节
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hilt…deep in his breast。 This had exceeded Rivera's
instructions； but they of the Junta knew the times of his
movements。 They did not ask him。 He said nothing。 But they
looked at one another and conjectured。
〃I have told you；〃 said Vera。 〃Diaz has more to fear from this
youth than from any man。 He is implacable。 He is the hand of
God。〃
The bad temper； mentioned by May Sethby； and sensed by them
all； was evidenced by physical proofs。 Now he appeared with a
cut lip； a blackened cheek； or a swollen ear。 It was patent
that he brawled； somewhere in that outside world where he ate
and slept； gained money； and moved in ways unknown to them。 As
the time passed； he had come to set type for the little
revolutionary sheet they published weekly。 There were occasions
when he was unable to set type； when his knuckles were bruised
and battered； when his thumbs were injured and helpless； when
one arm or the other hung wearily at his side while his face
was drawn with unspoken pain。
〃A wastrel；〃 said Arrellano。
〃A frequenter of low places；〃 said Ramos。
〃But where does he get the money？〃 Vera demanded。 〃Only to…day；
just now； have I learned that he paid the bill for white
paperone hundred and forty dollars。〃
〃There are his absences；〃 said May Sethby。 〃He never explains
them。〃
〃We should set a spy upon him；〃 Ramos propounded。
〃I should not care to be that spy；〃 said Vera。 〃I fear you
would never see me again； save to bury me。 He has a terrible
passion。 Not even God would he permit to stand between him and
the way of his passion。〃
〃I feel like a child before him；〃 Ramos confessed。
〃To me he is powerhe is the primitive； the wild wolf； the
striking rattlesnake； the stinging centipede；〃 said Arrellano。
〃He is the Revolution incarnate；〃 said Vera。 〃He is the flame
and the spirit of it； the insatiable cry for vengeance that
makes no cry but that slays noiselessly。 He is a destroying
angel in moving through the still watches of the night。〃
〃I could weep over him；〃 said May Sethby。 〃He knows nobody。 He
hates all people。 Us he tolerates； for we are the way of his
desire。 He is alone。 。 。 。 lonely。〃 Her voice broke in a half
sob and there was dimness in her eyes。
Rivera's ways and times were truly mysterious。 There were
periods when they did not see him for a week at a time。 Once；
he was away a month。 These occasions were always capped by his
return； when； without advertisement or speech； he laid gold
coins on May Sethby's desk。 Again； for days and weeks； he spent
all his time with the Junta。 And yet again； for irregular
periods； he would disappear through the heart of each day； from
early morning until late afternoon。 At such times he came early
and remained late。 Arrellano had found him at midnight； setting
type with fresh swollen knuckles； or mayhap it was his lip；
new…split； that still bled。
II
The time of the crisis approached。 Whether or not the
Revolution would be depended upon the Junta； and the Junta was
hard…pressed。 The need for money was greater than ever before；
while money was harder to get。 Patriots had given their last
cent and now could give no more。 Section gang laborers…fugitive
peons from Mexicowere contributing half their scanty wages。
But more than that was needed。 The heart…breaking； conspiring；
undermining toil of years approached fruition。 The time was
ripe。 The Revolution hung on the balance。 One shove more； one
last heroic effort； and it would tremble across the scales to
victory。 They knew their Mexico。 Once started； the Revolution
would take care of itself。 The whole Diaz machine would go down
like a house of cards。 The border was ready to rise。 One
Yankee； with a hundred I。W。W。 men； waited the word to cross
over the border and begin the conquest of Lower California。 But
he needed guns。 And clear across to the Atlantic； the Junta in
touch with them all and all of them needing guns； mere
adventurers； soldiers of fortune； bandits； disgruntled American
union men； socialists； anarchists； rough…necks； Mexican exiles；
peons escaped from bondage； whipped miners from the bull…pens
of Coeur d'Alene and Colorado who desired only the more
vindictively to fightall the flotsam and jetsam of wild
spirits from the madly complicated modern world。 And it was
guns and ammunition； ammunition and gunsthe unceasing and
eternal cry。
Fling this heterogeneous； bankrupt； vindictive mass across the
border； and the Revolution was on。 The custom house； the
northern ports of entry； would be captured。 Diaz could not
resist。 He dared not throw the weight of his armies against
them； for he must hold the south。 And through the south the
flame would spread despite。 The people would rise。 The defenses
of city after city would crumple up。 State after state would
totter down。 And at last； from every side； the victorious
armies of the Revolution would close in on the City of Mexico
itself； Diaz's last stronghold。
But the money。 They had the men； impatient and urgent； who
would use the guns。 They knew the traders who would sell and
deliver the guns。 But to culture the Revolution thus far had
exhausted the Junta。 The last dollar had been spent； the last
resource and the last starving patriot milked dry； and the
great adventure still trembled on the scales。 Guns and
ammunition！ The ragged battalions must be armed。 But how？ Ramos
lamented his confiscated estates。 Arrellano wailed the
spendthriftness of his youth。 May Sethby wondered if it would
have been different had they of the Junta been more economical
in the past。
〃To think that the freedom of Mexico should stand or fall on a
few paltry thousands of dollars；〃 said Paulino Vera。
Despair was in all their faces。 Jose Amarillo； their last hope；
a recent convert； who had promised money； had been apprehended
at his hacienda in Chihuahua and shot against his own stable
wall。 The news had just come through。
Rivera； on his knees； scrubbing； looked up； with suspended
brush； his bare arms flecked with soapy； dirty water。
〃Will five thousand do it？〃 he asked。
They looked their amazement。 Vera nodded and swallowed。 He
could not speak； but he was on the instant invested with a vast
faith。
〃Order the guns；〃 Rivera said； and thereupon was guilty of the
longest flow of words they had ever heard him utter。 〃The time
is short。 In three weeks I shall bring you the five thousand。
It is well。 The weather will be warmer for those who fight。
Also； it is the best I can do。〃
Vera fought his faith。 It was incredible。 Too many fond hopes
had been shattered since he had begun to play the revolution
game。 He believed this threadbare scrubber of the Revolution；
and yet he dared not believe。
〃You are crazy；〃 he said。
〃In three weeks；〃 said Rivera。 〃Order the guns。〃
He got up； rolled down his sleeves； and put on his coat。
〃Order the guns；〃 he said。
〃I am going now。〃
III
After hurrying and scurrying； much telephoning and bad
language； a night session was held in Kelly's office。 Kelly was
rushed with business； also； he was unlucky。 He had brought
Danny Ward out from New York； arranged the fight for him with
Billy Carthey； the date was three weeks away； and for two days
now； carefully concealed from the sporting writers； Carthey had
been lying up； badly injured。 There was no one to take his
place。 Kelly had been burning the wires East to every eligible
lightweight； but they were tied up with dates and contracts。
And now hope had revived； though faintly。
〃You've got a hell of a nerve；〃 Kelly addressed Rivera； after
one look； as soon as they got together。
Hate that was malignant was in Rivera's eyes； but his face
remained impassive。
〃I can lick Ward；〃 was all he said。
〃How do you know？ Ever see him fight？〃
Rivera shook his head。
〃He can beat you up with one hand and both eyes closed。〃
Rivera shrugged his shoulders。
〃Haven't you got anything to say？〃 the fight promoter snarled。
〃I can lick him。〃
〃Who'd you ever fight； anyway！〃 Michael Kelly demanded。 Michael
was the promotor's brother； and ran the Yellowstone pool rooms
where he made goodly sums on the fight game。
Rivera favored him with a bitter； unanswering stare。
The promoter's secretary； a distinctively sporty young man；
sneered audibly。
〃Well； you know Roberts；〃 Kelly broke the hostile silence。 〃He
ought to be here。 I've sent for him。 Sit down and wait； though
f rom the looks of you； you haven't got a chance。 I can't throw
the public down with a bum fight。 Ringside seats are selling at
fifteen dollars； you know that。〃
When Roberts arrived； it was patent that he was mildly drunk。
He was a tall； lean； slack…jointed individual； and his walk；
like his talk； was a smooth and languid drawl。
Kelly went straight to the point。
〃Look here； Roberts； you'v
