The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista. Altsheler Joseph Alexander

nothing better offers. All such expeditions areloosely organized. If we should wish to leave it we cando so."

      "It iss well to keep it in mind," said Arenberg."No harm can be done where none iss meant."

      They entered a large inn kept by a Frenchman. Manymen were sitting about drinking or smoking. Middletonordered lemonade for the three, and they sat at a smalltable in the corner, observing the life of the place. Phil'sattention was presently attracted to another small tablenear them, at which a single man sat. His gaze wouldnot have lingered there, had it not been for this man'speculiar appearance. His age might have been thirty-five, more or less, and his figure was powerful. Hisface was burned almost black by a sun that could nothave been anything but ardent, but his features and hisblue eyes showed him to be American of a fair race. Hisclothes were poor, and he looked depressed. Yet thestranger was not without a certain distinction, an air asof one who did not belong there in an inn. Somethingin the blue eyes told of wild freedom and great spaces.He interested Phil more than anybody else in the room.He felt that here was another man whom he could like.

      The talk about them drifted quite naturally upon thesubject of the West, what Texas was going to do, whatMexico was going to do, the great trail toward the Pacific, and the prospect of trouble between the United States andMexico. The shabby man raised his head and showedinterest. His eyes began to glow. He was not morethan three feet away, and Phil, prompted by a sort ofinstinct, spoke to him.

      "It seems that all eyes turn toward the West now,"he said.

      "Yes," replied the stranger, "and they're right. It'sout there that the great things lie."

      He moved his hand with a slight but significantgesture toward the setting sun.

      "I've been there once," he said, "and I want to go back."

      "A man takes his life in his hands when he travelsthat way," said Phil.

      "I know," replied the stranger, "but I'm willing torisk it. I must go back there. I want to look forsomething, something very particular."

      Phil started. Here was a fourth who sought somedarling wish of his heart in that far mysterious West.He felt a strange influence. It seemed to him a sign, orrather a command that must be obeyed. He glanced atMiddleton and Arenberg, who had been listening, and, understanding him perfectly, they nodded.

      "We three are going into the West, also, on errandsof our own," said Phil. "Why not join us? Three aregood, but four are better."

      "It iss a fair proposition," added Arenberg. "Noharm iss done where none iss meant."

      "We make the offer," said Middleton, "because onsuch a journey one needs friends. If you do not thinkyou can trust us, as our acquaintance is so short, say so."

      The man examined them keenly, one by one. Phil, looking with equal keenness at him, saw that, despiteshabbiness of dress and despondency of manner, he wasnot a common man. In truth, as he looked, thedepression seemed to be passing away. The stranger raisedhis head, threw back his shoulders, and the blue eyesbegan to glow.

      "You look all right to me," he said. "A man hasgot to make friends, and if you trust me I don't see whyI can't trust you. Besides, I'm terribly anxious to goback out there, and my reason is mighty good."

      "Then shall we consider it a bargain?" said Middleton.

      "You may count me one of the band as long as youwill have me," said the stranger with hearty emphasis,"and I suppose I oughtn't to come in as an unknown.My name is Breakstone, William Breakstone, though Iam always called Bill Breakstone by those who know me.Bill Breakstone seems to run off smoother."

      He smiled in the most ingratiating manner. Thesudden acquisition of friends seemed to have clothed himabout with sunlight. All the others felt that they hadmade no mistake.

      "I'm a rover," said Bill Breakstone in round, cheerfultones. "I've been roaming all my life, though I'mbound to say it hasn't been to much purpose. As yousee me now, I haven't got nearly enough to buy either arifle or a horse for this big trip on which you're askingme to go, and on which I'm wanting to go terrible bad."

      "Never mind, Mr. Breakstone-" began Middleton, but he was interrupted.

      "I'm Breakstone or Bill to those that feed with me,"said the new man, "and I'm Mr. Breakstone to thosethat don't like me or suspect me."

      "All right," said Middleton with a laugh, "it'sBreakstone for the present. By and by we may call youBill. I was going to tell you, Breakstone, that we fourgo in together. We furnish you what you need, andlater on you pay us back if you can. It's the usual thingin the West."

      "You're right, my lord," said Bill Breakstone, "andI accept. It gives me pleasure to be enrolled in yourmost gallant company, and, by my troth, I will serve youright well."

      Middleton looked at him in amazement, and BillBreakstone broke into a mellow, infectious laugh.

      "I don't talk that way all the time," he said. "Itmerely bursts out in spots. You may not believe it, when you look at me, but I studied for the stage once, and I've been an actor. Now and then the old scrapscome to the end of my tongue. All's well that end'swell, and may that be the fate of our expedition."

      "Come," said Middleton, after telling his own nameand that of his friends to Breakstone, "we'll go to ourquarters and make a place for you. Phil and Arenbergare in a room together, and you shall share mine."

      "Lead on!" said Bill Breakstone.

      The four left the inn. Bill Breakstone was as poor ashe described himself to be. He owned only the worn suitof clothes in which he stood, a pistol, and a pair ofsaddle bags, seeming to contain some linen, of which hetook good care.

      "Prithee, young sir," he said to Phil, "I would fainguard well the little that I have, because if I lose thelittle that I have, then what I have shall be nothing. Do Iargue well, Sir Ivanhoe?"

      "It's conclusive," said Phil. He took greatly to thisman who had become in an hour the life of their littleband, a constant source of cheerful patter that invigoratedthem all. Middleton bought him a new suit of clothes, gave him some money, which he promised earnestly toreturn a hundredfold, and then they went forth toinquire further into the matter of the trading expeditionfor Santa Fé. But their attention was diverted by thearrival of a large steamboat that had come all the wayfrom Pittsburgh loaded with passengers. A particulargroup among the arrivals soon became the center of theirinterest.

      The members of the group were Mexicans, and theywere evidently people of distinction, or, at least, position.The first among them was middle-aged, fat, and yellow, and dressed in garments much brighter in color thanAmericans wear. Indeed, as a wind somewhat chillswept over the river, he threw around his shoulders a redserape with a magnificent border of gold fringe. But ayoung man who walked by his side made no acknowledgmentto the wind. It was he whom Phil watched most.Some people inspire us at once with hostility, and Philhad this feeling about the stranger, who bore himself ina manner that had more than a tinge of sneering arrogance.

      The young man was obviously of the Spanish race, although his blood might run back to Northern Spain, ashe was tall and very strongly built, and his complexioninclined to fairness, but Phil believed him to be ofMexican birth, as he showed the shade of change that the NewWorld always made in the old. He wore the uniform ofa captain in the Mexican army. Mexican uniforms werenot popular in the States, but he bore himself as if hepreferred the hostility of the crowd to its friendship.His insolent gaze met Phil's for an instant, and the boygave it back with interest. For a few moments these twowho had never met before, who did not know the namesof each other, and who might never meet again, staredwith immediate hostility. Eye plumbed the depths ofeye, but it was the Mexican who looked away first, although he let his lips curl slightly into a gesture withwhich he meant to convey contempt.

      Middleton had observed this silent drama of a fewmoments, and he said quietly:

      "You do not know, Philip, who these men are?"

      "No," replied the boy, "but I should like to know."

      "The stout, elderly man is Don August Xavier HernandoZucorra y Palite, who is at the head of a specialMexican embassy that has been at Washington to treatwith our government about the boundary of Texas-youknow there has been trouble