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Davies was about to speak, when the telephone rang, and Wemple sprang to the instrument. "It's Carson," he interjected, as he listened. "They haven't cut the wires across the river yet. Hello, Carson.
"Spit it out," Davies commanded dryly. "I'll tell you," Habert exploded. "It's Billy Boy. Fifty miles up country and twenty-thousand throat-cutting federals and rebels between him and me. D'ye know what that boy'd do, if he was here in Tampico and I was fifty miles up the Panuco? Well, I know. And I'm going to do the same go and get him." "We're figuring on going up," Wemple assured him.
So she felt happy and secure, as she smiled in response to one of Barbara's bright glances, and noticed that Lieutenant Wemple was still dancing close attendance upon her young friend. Barbara was gowned very simply in white, and carried a bouquet of Jacqueminot roses. Her shining black hair was drawn back from her forehead in loose, waving masses and filleted with bands of silver filigree.
Wemple backed up the hard formation on the inside bank till the car seemed standing on end, rushed ahead till the earth of the outer edge broke under the front tires and splashed in the water.
"And so will you be," Wemple assured her, "before you get back to Tampico. Are you ready?" "As soon as Juanita packs my hand bag." "Heavens, Beth, don't waste time!" exclaimed Wemple. "Jump in and grab up what you want." "Make a start make a start," chanted Davies. "Hustle! Hustle! Charley, get the rifle you like best and take it along. Get a couple for us." "Is it as serious as that?"
A banner of smoke across the plain told them that the east-bound train was approaching. "I believe we can make it!" exclaimed Wemple, as they heard the engine's announcing scream. Apparently their pursuers guessed what the fugitives would try to do, for as they saw the train they shouted and yelled louder than before and urged their ponies to a still higher speed.
There were among them all sorts and conditions of men, thrifty and thriftless, cautious and imprudent, the owners of slaves along with poor yokels of scarcely higher estate than the others' niggers. Here were posted thick in the roll-call such names as Fonda, Starin, Yates, Sammons, Gardenier, and Wemple.
"He hasn't," was Wemple's answer. "The federals commandeered the last one at noon." "Say, Carson, how are you going to make your get-away?" Wemple queried. The man to whom he talked was across the Panuco, on the south side, at the tank farm. "Says there isn't any get-away," Wemple vouchsafed to the other two.
The heavy, double doors of the placita entrance were open, and as Lieutenant Wemple strode past he heard a sound from within, a half suppressed exclamation in a voice that trembled with feeling. It sent through him a sudden shock, stopped him in mid-step, and swiftly turned him to the placita door.
And now the son's married a girl that had everything but money my boy, Nellie Wemple has fairly got that family of Nesbits awestricken since she married into it, just by the way she can spend money but what was I saying, old chap? Oh, yes, about getting in it takes time, you know; on my word, I think they were as much as eight years, and had to start in abroad at that.
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