A Double-Dyed Deceiver

by O. Henry

　　The trouble began in Laredo. It was the Llano Kid's fault, for heshould have confined his habit of manslaughter to Mexicans. But theKid was past twenty; and to have only Mexicans to one's credit attwenty is to blush unseen on the Rio Grande border.It happened in old Justo Valdos's gambling house. There was a pokergame at which sat players who were not all friends, as happens oftenwhere men ride in from afar to shoot Folly as she gallops. There was arow over so small a matter as a pair of queens; and when the smoke hadcleared away it was found that the Kid had committed an indiscretion,and his adversary had been guilty of a blunder. For, the unfortunatecombatant, instead of being a Greaser, was a high-blooded youth fromthe cow ranches, of about the Kid's own age and possessed of friendsand champions. His blunder in missing the Kid's right ear only asixteenth of an inch when he pulled his gun did not lessen theindiscretion of the better marksman.The Kid, not being equipped with a retinue, nor bountifully suppliedwith personal admirers and supporters--on account of a ratherumbrageous reputation, even for the border--considered it notincompatible with his indispensable gameness to perform that judicioustractional act known as "pulling his freight."Quickly the avengers gathered and sought him. Three of them overtookhim within a rod of the station. The Kid turned and showed his teethin that brilliant but mirthless smile that usually preceded his deedsof insolence and violence, and his pursuers fell back without makingit necessary for him even to reach for his weapon.But in this affair the Kid had not felt the grim thirst for encounterthat usually urged him on to battle. It had been a purely chance row,born of the cards and certain epithets impossible for a gentleman tobrook that had passed between the two. The Kid had rather liked theslim, haughty, brown-faced young chap whom his bullet had cut off inthe first pride of manhood. And now he wanted no more blood. He wantedto get away and have a good long sleep somewhere in the sun on themesquit grass with his handkerchief over his face. Even a Mexicanmight have crossed his path in safety while he was in this mood.The Kid openly boarded the north-bound passenger train that departedfive minutes later. But at Webb, a few miles out, where it was flaggedto take on a traveller, he abandoned that manner of escape. There weretelegraph stations ahead; and the Kid looked askance at electricityand steam. Saddle and spur were his rocks of safety.The man whom he had shot was a stranger to him. But the Kid knew thathe was of the Coralitos outfit from Hidalgo; and that the punchersfrom that ranch were more relentless and vengeful than Kentuckyfeudists when wrong or harm was done to one of them. So, with thewisdom that has characterized many great farmers, the Kid decided topile up as many leagues as possible of chaparral and pear betweenhimself and the retaliation of the Coralitos bunch.Near the station was a store; and near the store, scattered among themesquits and elms, stood the saddled horses of the customers. Most ofthem waited, half asleep, with sagging limbs and drooping heads. Butone, a long-legged roan with a curved neck, snorted and pawed theturf. Him the Kid mounted, gripped with his knees, and slapped gentlywith the owner's own quirt.If the slaying of the temerarious card-player had cast a cloud overthe Kid's standing as a good and true citizen, this last act of hisveiled his figure in the darkest shadows of disrepute. On the RioGrande border if you take a man's life you sometimes take trash; butif you take his horse, you take a thing the loss of which renders himpoor, indeed, and which enriches you not--if you are caught. For theKid there was no turning back now.With the springing roan under him he felt little care or uneasiness.After a five-mile gallop he drew it in to the plainsman's joggingtrot, and rode northeastward toward the Nueces River bottoms. He knewthe country well--its most tortuous and obscure trails through thegreat wilderness of brush and pear, and its camps and lonesome rancheswhere one might find safe entertainment. Always he bore to the east;for the Kid had never seen the ocean, and he had a fancy to lay hishand upon the mane of the great Gulf, the gamesome colt of the greaterwaters.So after three days he stood on the shore at Corpus Christi, andlooked out across the gentle ripples of a quiet sea.Captain Boone, of the schooner /Flyaway/, stood near his skiff, whichone of his crew was guarding in the surf. When ready to sail he haddiscovered that one of the necessaries of life, in theparallelogrammatic shape of plug tobacco, had been forgotten. A sailorhad been dispatched for the missing cargo. Meanwhile the captain pacedthe sands, chewing profanely at his pocket store.A slim, wiry youth in high-heeled boots came down to the water's edge.His face was boyish, but with a premature severity that hinted at aman's experience. His complexion was naturally dark; and the sun andwind of an outdoor life had burned it to a coffee brown. His hair wasas black and straight as an Indian's; his face had not yet upturned tothe humiliation of a razor; his eyes were a cold and steady blue. Hecarried his left arm somewhat away from his body, for pearl-handled.45s are frowned upon by town marshals, and are a little bulky whenplaced in the left armhole of one's vest. He looked beyond CaptainBoone at the gulf with the impersonal and expressionless dignity of aChinese emperor."Thinkin' of buyin' that'ar gulf, buddy?" asked the captain, madesarcastic by his narrow escape from a tobaccoless voyage."Why, no," said the Kid gently, "I reckon not. I never saw it before.I was just looking at it. Not thinking of selling it, are you?""Not this trip," said the captain. "I'll send it to you C.O.D. when Iget back to Buenas Tierras. Here comes that capstanfooted lubber withthe chewin'. I ought to've weighed anchor an hour ago.""Is that your ship out there?" asked the Kid."Why, yes," answered the captain, "if you want to call a schooner aship, and I don't mind lyin'. But you better say Miller and Gonzales,owners, and ordinary plain, Billy-be-damned old Samuel K. Boone,skipper.""Where are you going to?" asked the refugee."Buenas Tierras, coast of South America--I forgot what they called thecountry the last time I was there. Cargo--lumber, corrugated iron, andmachetes.""What kind of a country is it?" asked the Kid--"hot or cold?""Warmish, buddy," said the captain. "But a regular Paradise Lost forelegance of scenery and be-yooty of geography. Ye're wakened everymorning by the sweet singin' of red birds with seven purple tails, andthe sighin' of breezes in the posies and roses. And the inhabitantsnever work, for they can reach out and pick steamer baskets of thechoicest hothouse fruit without gettin' out of bed. And there's noSunday and no ice and no rent and no troubles and no use and nonothin'. It's a great country for a man to go to sleep with, and waitfor somethin' to turn up. The bananys and oranges and hurricanes andpineapples that ye eat comes from there.""That sounds to me!" said the Kid, at last betraying interest."What'll the expressage be to take me out there with you?""Twenty-four dollars," said Captain Boone; "grub and transportation.Second cabin. I haven't got a first cabin.""You've got my company," said the Kid, pulling out a buckskin bag.With three hundred dollars he had gone to Laredo for his regular"blowout." The duel in Valdos's had cut short his season of hilarity,but it had left him with nearly $200 for aid in the flight that it hadmade necessary."All right, buddy," said the captain. "I hope your ma won't blame mefor this little childish escapade of yours." He beckoned to one of theboat's crew. "Let Sanchez lift you out to the skiff so you won't getyour feet wet."* * * * *Thacker, the United States consul at Buenas Tierras, was not yetdrunk. It was only eleven o'clock; and he never arrived at his desiredstate of beatitude--a state wherein he sang ancient maudlin vaudevillesongs and pelted his screaming parrot with banana peels--until themiddle of the afternoon. So, when he looked up from his hammock at thesound of a slight cough, and saw the Kid standing in the door of theconsulate, he was still in a condition to extend the hospitality andcourtesy due from the representative of a great nation. "Don't disturbyourself," said the Kid, easily. "I just dropped in. They told me itwas customary to light at your camp before starting in to round up thetown. I just came in on a ship from Texas.""Glad to see you, Mr.--" said the consul.The Kid laughed."Sprague Dalton," he said. "It sounds funny to me to hear it. I'mcalled the Llano Kid in the Rio Grande country.""I'm Thacker," said the consul. "Take that cane-bottom chair. Now ifyou've come to invest, you want somebody to advise you. These dingieswill cheat you out of the gold in your teeth if you don't understandtheir ways. Try a cigar?""Much obliged," said the Kid, "but if it wasn't for my corn shucks andthe little bag in my back pocket I couldn't live a minute." He tookout his "makings," and rolled a cigarette."They speak Spanish here," said the consul. "You'll need aninterpreter. If there's anything I can do, why, I'd be delighted. Ifyou're buying fruit lands or looking for a concession of any sort,you'll want somebody who knows the ropes to look out for you.""I speak Spanish," said the Kid, "about nine times better than I doEnglish. Everybody speaks it on the range where I come from. And I'mnot in the market for anything.""You speak Spanish?" said Thacker thoughtfully. He regarded the kidabsorbedly."You look like a Spaniard, too," he continued. "And you're from Texas.And you can't be more than twenty or twenty-one. I wonder if you'vegot any nerve.""You got a deal of some kind to put through?" asked the Texan, withunexpected shrewdness."Are you open to a proposition?" said Thacker."What's the use to deny it?" said the Kid. "I got into a little gunfrolic down in Laredo and plugged a white man. There wasn't anyMexican handy. And I come down to your parrot-and-monkey range justfor to smell the morning-glories and marigolds. Now, do you /sabe/?"Thacker got up and closed the door."Let me see your hand," he said.He took the Kid's left hand, and examined the back of it closely."I can do it," he said excitedly. "Your flesh is as hard as wood andas healthy as a baby's. It will heal in a week.""If it's a fist fight you want to back me for," said the Kid, "don'tput your money up yet. Make it gun work, and I'll keep you company.But no barehanded scrapping, like ladies at a tea-party, for me.""It's easier than that," said Thacker. "Just step here, will you?"Through the window he pointed to a two-story white-stuccoed house withwide galleries rising amid the deep-green tropical foliage on a woodedhill that sloped gently from the sea."In that house," said Thacker, "a fine old Castilian gentleman and hiswife are yearning to gather you into their arms and fill your pocketswith money. Old Santos Urique lives there. He owns half the gold-minesin the country.""You haven't been eating loco weed, have you?" asked the Kid."Sit down again," said Thacker, "and I'll tell you. Twelve years agothey lost a kid. No, he didn't die--although most of 'em here do fromdrinking the surface water. He was a wild little devil, even if hewasn't but eight years old. Everybody knows about it. Some Americanswho were through here prospecting for gold had letters to SenorUrique, and the boy was a favorite with them. They filled his headwith big stories about the States; and about a month after they left,the kid disappeared, too. He was supposed to have stowed himself awayamong the banana bunches on a fruit steamer, and gone to New Orleans.He was seen once afterward in Texas, it was thought, but they neverheard anything more of him. Old Urique has spent thousands of dollarshaving him looked for. The madam was broken up worst of all. The kidwas her life. She wears mourning yet. But they say she believes he'llcome back to her some day, and never gives up hope. On the back of theboy's left hand was tattooed a flying eagle carrying a spear in hisclaws. That's old Urique's coat of arms or something that he inheritedin Spain."The Kid raised his left hand slowly and gazed at it curiously."That's it," said Thacker, reaching behind the official desk for hisbottle of smuggled brandy. "You're not so slow. I can do it. What wasI consul at Sandakan for? I never knew till now. In a week I'll havethe eagle bird with the frog-sticker blended in so you'd think youwere born with it. I brought a set of the needles and ink just becauseI was sure you'd drop in some day, Mr. Dalton.""Oh, hell," said the Kid. "I thought I told you my name!""All right, 'Kid,' then. It won't be that long. How does SenoritoUrique sound, for a change?""I never played son any that I remember of," said the Kid. "If I hadany parents to mention they went over the divide about the time I gavemy first bleat. What is the plan of your round-up?"Thacker leaned back against the wall and held his glass up to thelight."We've come now," said he, "to the question of how far you're willingto go in a little matter of the sort.""I told you why I came down here," said the Kid simply."A good answer," said the consul. "But you won't have to go that far.Here's the scheme. After I get the trademark tattooed on your handI'll notify old Urique. In the meantime I'll furnish you with all ofthe family history I can find out, so you can be studying up points totalk about. You've got the looks, you speak the Spanish, you know thefacts, you can tell about Texas, you've got the tattoo mark. When Inotify them that the rightful heir has returned and is waiting to knowwhether he will be received and pardoned, what will happen? They'llsimply rush down here and fall on your neck, and the curtain goes downfor refreshments and a stroll in the lobby.""I'm waiting," said the Kid. "I haven't had my saddle off in your camplong, pardner, and I never met you before; but if you intend to let itgo at a parental blessing, why, I'm mistaken in my man, that's all.""Thanks," said the consul. "I haven't met anybody in a long time thatkeeps up with an argument as well as you do. The rest of it is simple.If they take you in only for a while it's long enough. Don't give 'emtime to hunt up the strawberry mark on your left shoulder. Old Uriquekeeps anywhere from $50,000 to $100,000 in his house all the time in alittle safe that you could open with a shoe buttoner. Get it. My skillas a tattooer is worth half the boddle. We go halves and catch a trampsteamer for Rio Janeiro. Let the United States go to pieces if itcan't get along without my services. /Que dice, senor/?""It sounds to me!" said the Kid, nodding his head. "I'm out for thedust.""All right, then," said Thacker. "You'll have to keep close until weget the bird on you. You can live in the back room here. I do my owncooking, and I'll make you as comfortable as a parsimonious Governmentwill allow me."Thacker had set the time at a week, but it was two weeks before thedesign that he patiently tattooed upon the Kid's hand was to hisnotion. And then Thacker called a /muchacho/, and dispatched this noteto the intended victim:El Senor Don Santos Urique,La Casa Blanca,My Dear Sir:I beg permission to inform you that there is in my house as atemporary guest a young man who arrived in Buenas Tierras from theUnited States some days ago. Without wishing to excite any hopesthat may not be realized, I think there is a possibility of hisbeing your long-absent son. It might be well for you to call andsee him. If he is, it is my opinion that his intention was toreturn to his home, but upon arriving here, his courage failed himfrom doubts as to how he would be received. Your true servant,Thompson Thacker.Half an hour afterward--quick time for Buenas Tierras--Senor Urique'sancient landau drove to the consul's door, with the barefootedcoachman beating and shouting at the team of fat, awkward horses.A tall man with a white moustache alighted, and assisted to the grounda lady who was dressed and veiled in unrelieved black.The two hastened inside, and were met by Thacker with his bestdiplomatic bow. By his desk stood a slender young man with clear-cut,sun-browned features and smoothly brushed black hair.Senora Urique threw back her black veil with a quick gesture. She waspast middle age, and her hair was beginning to silver, but her full,proud figure and clear olive skin retained traces of the beautypeculiar to the Basque province. But, once you had seen her eyes, andcomprehended the great sadness that was revealed in their deep shadowsand hopeless expression, you saw that the woman lived only in somememory.She bent upon the young man a long look of the most agonizedquestioning. Then her great black eyes turned, and her gaze restedupon his left hand. And then with a sob, not loud, but seeming toshake the room, she cried "/Hijo mio/!" and caught the Llano Kid toher heart.A month afterward the Kid came to the consulate in response to amessage sent by Thacker.He looked the young Spanish /caballero/. His clothes were imported,and the wiles of the jewellers had not been spent upon him in vain. Amore than respectable diamond shone on his finger as he rolled a shuckcigarette."What's doing?" asked Thacker."Nothing much," said the Kid calmly. "I eat my first iguana steakto-day. They're them big lizards, you /sabe/? I reckon, though, thatfrijoles and side bacon would do me about as well. Do you care foriguanas, Thacker?""No, nor for some other kinds of reptiles," said Thacker.It was three in the afternoon, and in another hour he would be in hisstate of beatitude."It's time you were making good, sonny," he went on, with an ugly lookon his reddened face. "You're not playing up to me square. You've beenthe prodigal son for four weeks now, and you could have had veal forevery meal on a gold dish if you'd wanted it. Now, Mr. Kid, do youthink it's right to leave me out so long on a husk diet? What's thetrouble? Don't you get your filial eyes on anything that looks likecash in the Casa Blanca? Don't tell me you don't. Everybody knowswhere old Urique keeps his stuff. It's U.S. currency, too; he don'taccept anything else. What's doing? Don't say 'nothing' this time.""Why, sure," said the Kid, admiring his diamond, "there's plenty ofmoney up there. I'm no judge of collateral in bunches, but I willundertake for to say that I've seen the rise of $50,000 at a time inthat tin grub box that my adopted father calls his safe. And he letsme carry the key sometimes just to show me that he knows I'm the realFrancisco that strayed from the herd a long time ago.""Well, what are you waiting for?" asked Thacker, angrily. "Don't youforget that I can upset your apple-cart any day I want to. If oldUrique knew you were an imposter, what sort of things would happen toyou? Oh, you don't know this country, Mr. Texas Kid. The laws herehave got mustard spread between 'em. These people here'd stretch youout like a frog that had been stepped on, and give you about fiftysticks at every corner of the plaza. And they'd wear every stick out,too. What was left of you they'd feed to alligators.""I might just as well tell you now, pardner," said the Kid, slidingdown low on his steamer chair, "that things are going to stay just asthey are. They're about right now.""What do you mean?" asked Thacker, rattling the bottom of his glass onhis desk."The scheme's off," said the Kid. "And whenever you have the pleasureof speaking to me address me as Don Francisco Urique. I'll guaranteeI'll answer to it. We'll let Colonel Urique keep his money. His littletin safe is as good as the time-locker in the First National Bank ofLaredo as far as you and me are concerned.""You're going to throw me down, then, are you?" said the consul."Sure," said the Kid cheerfully. "Throw you down. That's it. And nowI'll tell you why. The first night I was up at the colonel's housethey introduced me to a bedroom. No blankets on the floor--a realroom, with a bed and things in it. And before I was asleep, in comesthis artificial mother and tucks in the covers. 'Panchito,' she says,'my little lost one, God has brought you back to me. I bless His nameforever.' It was that, or some truck like that, she said. And downcomes a drop or two of rain and hits me on the nose. And all thatstuck by me, Mr. Thacker. And it's been that way ever since. And it'sgot to stay that way. Don't you think that it's for what's in it forme, either, that I say so. If you have any such ideas, keep 'em toyourself. I haven't had much truck with women in my life, and nomothers to speak of, but here's a lady that we've got to keep fooled.Once she stood it; twice she won't. I'm a low-down wolf, and the devilmay have sent me on this trail instead of God, but I'll travel it tothe end. And now, don't forget that I'm Don Francisco Urique wheneveryou happen to mention my name.""I'll expose you to-day, you--you double-dyed traitor," stammeredThacker.The Kid arose and, without violence, took Thacker by the throat with ahand of steel, and shoved him slowly into a corner. Then he drew fromunder his left arm his pearl-handled .45 and poked the cold muzzle ofit against the consul's mouth."I told you why I come here," he said, with his old freezing smile."If I leave here, you'll be the reason. Never forget it, pardner. Now,what is my name?""Er--Don Francisco Urique," gasped Thacker.From outside came a sound of wheels, and the shouting of some one, andthe sharp thwacks of a wooden whipstock upon the backs of fat horses.The Kid put up his gun, and walked toward the door. But he turnedagain and came back to the trembling Thacker, and held up his lefthand with its back toward the consul."There's one more reason," he said slowly, "why things have got tostand as they are. The fellow I killed in Laredo had one of them samepictures on his left hand."Outside, the ancient landau of Don Santos Urique rattled to the door.The coachman ceased his bellowing. Senora Urique, in a voluminous gaygown of white lace and flying ribbons, leaned forward with a happylook in her great soft eyes."Are you within, dear son?" she called, in the rippling Castilian."Madre mia, yo vengo [mother, I come]," answered the young DonFrancisco Urique.