Desert Gold by Zane Grey Read Free Book Online

these forms a sentinel-like stealthiness.
    Gripping Gale’s arm, Thorne pulled back from the window.
    â€œYou saw them,” he whispered. “It’s just as I feared. Rojas has the place surrounded. I should have taken Mercedes away. But I had no time—no chance! I’m bound!…. There’s Mercedes now! My God!…. Dick, think—think if there’s a way to get her out of this trap!”
    Gale turned as his friend went down the room. In the dim light at the head of the stairs stood the slim, muffled figure of a woman. When she saw Thorne she flew noiselessly down the stairway to him. He caught her in his arms. Then she spoke softly, brokenly, in a low, swift voice. It was a mingling of incoherent Spanish and English; but to Gale it was mellow, deep, unutterably tender, a voice full of joy, fear, passion, hope, and love. Upon Gale it had an unaccountable effect. He found himself thrilling, wondering.
    Thorne led the girl to the center of the room, under the light where Gale stood. She had raised a white hand, holding a black-lace mantilla half aside. Dick saw a small, dark head proudly held, an oval face half hidden, white as a flower, and magnificent black eyes.
    Then Thorne spoke.
    â€œMercedes—Dick Gale, an old friend—the best friend I ever had.”
    She swept the mantilla back over her head, disclosing a lovely face, strange and striking to Gale in its pride and fire, its intensity.
    â€œSeñor Gale—ah! I cannot speak my happiness. His friend!”
    â€œYes, Mercedes; my friend and yours,” said Thorne, speaking rapidly. “We’ll have need of him. Dear, there’s bad news and no time to break it gently. The priest did not come. He must have been detained. And listen—be brave, dear Mercedes—Rojas is here!”
    She uttered an inarticulate cry, the poignant terror of which shook Gale’s nerve, and swayed as if she would faint. Thorne caught her, and in husky voice importuned her to bear up.
    â€œMy darling! For God’s sake don’t faint—don’t go to pieces! We’d be lost! We’ve got a chance. We’ll think of something. Be strong! Fight!”
    It was plain to Gale that Thorne was distracted. He scarcely knew what he was saying. Pale and shaking, he clasped Mercedes to him. Her terror had struck him helpless. It was so intense—it was so full of horrible certainty of what fate awaited her.
    She cried out in Spanish, beseeching him; and as he shook his head, she changed to English:
    â€œSeñor, my lover, I will be strong—I will fight—I will obey. But swear by my Virgin, if need be to save me from Rojas—you will kill me!”
    â€œMercedes! Yes, I’ll swear,” he replied, hoarsely. “I know—I’d rather have you dead than—But don’t give up. Rojas can’t be sure of you, or he wouldn’t wait. He’s in there. He’s got his men there—all round us. But he hesitates. A beast like Rojas doesn’t stand idle for nothing. I tell you we’ve a chance. Dick, here, will think of something. We’ll slip away. Then he’ll take you somewhere. Only—speak to him—show him you won’t weaken. Mercedes, this is more than love and happiness for us. It’s life or death.”
    She became quiet, and slowly recovered control of herself.
    Suddenly she wheeled to face Gale with proud dark eyes, tragic sweetness of appeal, an exquisite grace.
    â€œSeñor, you are an American. You cannot know the Spanish blood—the peon bandit’s hate and cruelty. I wish to die before Rojas’s hand touches me. If he takes me alive, then the hour, the little day that my life lasts afterward will be torture—torture of hell. If I live two days his brutal men will have me. If I live three, the dogs of his camp…. Señor, have you a sister whom you love? Help Señor Thorne to save me. He is a soldier. He is bound. He must not