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Among themselves the men might groan and swear and protest as much as they pleased, but if any one of them neglected that duty the ladies forthwith hurled him from the circles of the Select into the outer shades of the Unassorted. After the night of Barbara's success these calls did not lag as usual, and Lieutenant Wemple, who was wont to be the last, was the very first to present himself.
On the morrow it happened that Lieutenant Wemple was officer of the day at the post and his duties kept him so closely confined in and about the fort that he had not time to see Barbara. But in the latter part of the afternoon it became necessary for him to see the commanding officer.
"And we might as well speak up and acknowledge what each of us knows the other knows. You want her. I want her." Wemple lighted a cigarette and nodded. "And now's the time when it's up to us to make a show as if we didn't want her and that all we want is just to save her and get her down here." "And a truce until we do save her I get you," Wempel affirmed.
They was like amateurs blazin' away at canvasback." "Which Chill is it?" Wemple asked. "Chill II," Peter answered. "It's all that's left. Chill I a Greaser you know 'm Campos commandeered this noon. I was runnin' Chill III when they caught me at sundown. Made me come in under their guns at the East Coast outfit, and fired me out on my neck.
I recommended to her the widow of Dirck Tappan, a worthy and pious woman who could not sleep if there was so much as a speck of dust on the floor under her bed, but she would not listen to me, saying that she liked Moll Wemple and wanted her, and that she did not like Dame Tappan and did not want her. Upon this I came home, seeing clearly that my company was not desired longer.
"If they can overtake us there are enough of them to overpower you. They will not try to do much harm to you, for they would not dare. But they will take me and carry me back with them if you let them." "I will not let them," he replied between set teeth. At last Wemple saw that their pursuers were slowly but surely gaining on them.
"We can't break through a bunch like that, Habert," was Davies' comment. "And if we die under their feet we'll be of little use to Billy Boy or anybody else up the Panuco," Wemple added. "And if " A new movement of the mob caused him to break off. It was splitting before a slow and silent advance of a file of white-clad men. "Bluejackets Mayo's come back for us after all," Habert muttered.
"They've quit," Davies announced. "It never entered their stupid heads that they could have caught us on Aliso Hill." "It can't be done," was Charley Drexel's quick judgment of youth, as the machine stopped and they surveyed the acute-angled turn on the stiff up-grade of Aliso. Beneath was the swift-running river. "Get out everybody!" Wemple commanded.
Yes, by all means ... Good-by, old man." Wemple lighted a cigarette and wiped his forehead. "You know Campos, José H. Campos," he volunteered. "The dirty cur's stuck Carson up for twenty thousand pesos. We had to pay, or he'd have compelled half our peons to enlist or set the wells on fire. And you know, Davies, what we've done for him in past years. Gratitude? Simple decency? Great Scott!"
"'A Merry Oldsmobile!" Miss Drexel quoted from the popular song, clapping her hands. "Now, Martha, your troubles are over." "Six-cylinder, and sounds as if it hadn't been out of the shop a week, or may I never ride in a machine again," Wemple remarked, looking to Davies for confirmation. Davies nodded. "It's Allison's," he said.
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