Free Silvertip (1942) by Max Brand Page B

and gasped, "Yes, senior."
    Monterey regarded them both soberly.
    "They have seen you; perhaps it is enough. They will not fight again, senior," observed Tonio.
    Monterey hushed him with a gesture.
    "Fire can burn underground, but it will always break out when a wind blows," he said. "Why did you quarrel, you two?"
    Again the pair regarded one another, gloomily.
    "Speak!" commanded Monterey.
    Onate said slowly: "I, senior, said a foolish thing. I am sorry. I angered Alvarez. I ask him to forgive me. I am -a liar-a fool!"
    He brought out the last words with a bitter effort.
    "There is no more lying in you, Onate, than in a blessed saint," declared Monterey. "What was it you talked about?"
    There was another pause, but not so long that Monterey had to lay the whip of his impatience on either of them again. For Alvarez muttered:
    "About you, senor, and God forgive us!"
    "God will forgive you and so shall I, probably," said Monterey. "What was it that you said about me?"
    This time the full pause lasted so long, before an answer, that the silence itself became more of a threat than any words from Monterey could have been. It was this quiet pressure that made Alvarez say:
    "I asked Onate if he knew why the senior wore the cloth band about his head, always, day and night. And then he told me such a great lie that my knife got into my hand. But even a good man will lie, sometimes, to make talk. I am sorry. But the senior is my father; he is the father to us all."
    Monterey was so moved by something in this speech that he stood up from his chair, suddenly.
    "What did you say, Onate?" he demanded.
    "Senor," he said, "if you ask me for my words, I shall seem to you a traitor and a scoundrel. In the name of Heaven, do not make me speak, and forgive me!"
    Monterey bowed his head for a moment in thought.
    "The time has come, Onate," he said, "when secret shame should be bared before the world. My son has gone from me, Onate, and I fear that he will not return. Perhaps the secrecy with which I have kept that shame of mine is the reason that God chooses to punish me. Speak out, freely. What did you say to Alvarez?"
    Onate flung himself suddenly on his knees.
    "Senor," he groaned, "it is a foul story that has been in the air for many years, since the night when Senor Drum-mon and his men poured into the house. And it is said- forgive me for repeating it!-but it is said that on that night the brand of the Cross and Snake was burned into your forehead with your own branding iron by the gringo devils!"
    He put up a hand before his face, as though to shield himself from an unexpected blow.
    The girl sprang up and hurried to the side of Arturo Monterey, anxiously, as though to be a shield to any object of his wrath. But the old man, after a moment, cried out:
    "It is the will of God that the whole world should know. Onate, you spoke the truth."
    With that, he suddenly tore the cloth band from abou t his head, and the brightness of the moon showed to them all, and above all to the straining eyes of Silvertip, a small cross printed in a shadowy furrow in the brow of Mon-terey, and beneath it a wavering line-the complete brand of the Cross and Snake.
    The Mexicans, both the prisoners and the vaqueros who had guarded them, slowly drew back from that sight, then turned, and fairly fled. Monterey slipped back into his chair and the girl, lifting the cloth circle from the ground, fitted it carefully over the bowed head again. She was weeping, stifling her sobs as well as she could. Then she sat beside him, watching his bowed face.
    "The whole world had heard of it," said Monterey. "You have heard of it also, Julia. Drummon has talked of it and boasted of it among his men. That is why the gringos laugh, when they look at me, and laugh, also, when they speak of me."
    "The cruel, savage dogs!" sobbed the girl. "I had heard of it, Uncle Arturo, but I would never believe. None of us would ever believe. Why did you show it to them?"
    "The will of God,"