The Five Arrows. Chase Allan

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СКАЧАТЬ alarm in the pigskin traveling clock Bird had given Hall as a going-away gift went on at eight. Hall shut it off, glanced at the radium dial, and got out of bed. On the roof tops of the houses in old San Hermano roosters were crowing. Outside, trolley bells clanged a block away from the Bolivar. Hall took the half-emptied bottle of carbonated water into the bathroom, poured it over his toothbrush, sprinkled the wet brush with powder, and scrubbed his teeth. The charged water filled his mouth with a vigorous foam. He rinsed his mouth with the rest of the soda, bathed, shaved and dressed.

      There was nothing in his box at the desk. He handed the day clerk the key and walked out to the street. At a little hole-in-the-wall stand on Virtudes Street he bought a glass of mouth-puckering tamarind juice. A few steps down the narrow street there was a newsstand. Hall bought two morning papers, found a café where he had a cup of coffee with hot milk and a toasted roll. He remained at his table in the soft morning sun, reading the papers and smoking a cigar, until nearly ten o'clock.

      According to both papers, Ansaldo and Marina were to make a preliminary examination of Tabio, and would then spend the rest of the day consulting with San Hermano physicians who were attending the President. There was no hint of what was actually wrong with the President, simply a repetition of the old statement that Tabio's condition was still grave.

      Jerry was on time for their breakfast appointment. She was wearing a bright yellow suit of very thin cloth. "Hello," she said. "Still want to be a tourist guide?"

      "More than ever." He caught himself wishing that this could be just an ordinary date with a girl.

      "What's wrong?" she asked.

      "Why?"

      "You're scowling."

      "Sorry. My mind must have wandered. I'd never scowl at you."

      She smiled at him. "Thanks," she said. "I thought for a moment that I'd pulled a boner. The suit isn't too loud, is it?"

      It was his turn to smile. "God, no," he laughed. "It's perfect. Very hungry? Good. We're eating right here in the hotel."

      They took a table near a potted orange tree.

      "How do you say ham and eggs in Spanish?" she asked.

      "Jamón y huevos. Want some?"

      "Uh huh. But I want to order them myself."

      "O.K. Order some for me, too." Hall hissed for the waiter.

      "What's the idea of razzing the guy?"

      "Relax, that's the way you call a waiter."

      Jerry smiled at the waiter when he reached their table. With a childish directness, she pointed first at Hall and then to herself. "Jamón y huevos," she said.

      "That is all the Spanish the señorita speaks," Hall explained. "I think we will have toast and coffee, too."

      "Well, well," the waiter said in accented English. "The lady speaks good, no?"

      "No," Jerry laughed.

      "Well, well," the waiter said, "today is very nice and sunny. Very nice." He walked into the kitchen.

      "I have a perfect itinerary," Hall said. "Old San Hermano first; that's the historic colonial part of the city. Then, at noon, we take the funicular railway to the top of the world for lunch. And after that—well, well, well, as the waiter said."

      They walked about San Hermano all morning. Hall showed her through the old fortress of the Duke of La Runa, which the government had restored after Segura was overthrown, told her about the early colonial history of the city. They sat on the old sea wall for a few minutes, while Hall pointed out the Moorish and Spanish details of the stone houses along the sea drive above the wharves. The youngest of the houses was a century old; the tile friezes along their bellies had all been imported from Spain in sailing ships. Jerry watched the sun do magic tricks of blue and purple on the surface of the houses. They wandered through the old market places, deserted that day, but colored by the little stalls along the sidewalks. Hall bought a large spray of gardenias for the girl from an itinerant vendor.

      "Where are those beaten-silver things you told me about?" she asked.

      "Later," he said. "There's plenty of time for that."

      "Where do we go now?" Jerry asked. "My feet are killing me."

      "From now on we ride." He found a taxi parked near the Cathedral, and they rode to the funicular railway terminal at the base of Monte Azul. He told her how the railway was built by Segura, as they rode. "But it was when the Tabio junta threw the Seguristas out that the damned cable cars meant anything to the people of the country themselves. You see, Jerry, Segura gave the concession on top of the mountain to one of his thugs. The new regime opened it up to the little guys. And wait till you see what they did to the grounds."

      They shared the cable car with an old water colorist, and two other young couples. "My God," Jerry exclaimed, when she saw the route the cars followed, "it's like climbing hand over hand up a sheer cliff!"

      "Don't worry. It's perfectly safe. In a way, though, I'm sorry this is such a clear day. On a cloudy day, the tracks just vanish into the soup up there, and you feel that you are being towed into the clouds."

      The cars climbed for five miles, creaking, whining, grunting, but steadily pushing on toward the peak. From the opened windows, Jerry could see the Moorish villas at the base of the mountain, then their red-tiled roofs, then the miles of scraggly wild orange trees. The sweet, heavy odors of their blossoms filled the car.

      "Oh, look," she said, "the town is getting smaller. And the sea is growing bluer."

      "Wait until we get off," he smiled. "Then you'll really see something."

      The old artist took out a sketch pad, studied Jerry's excited face, and made some quick strokes with a charcoal stick. Hall winked at the old man. "Hola, viejo. Qué pasa?"

      "La mujer es muy bonita."

      "Muchas gracias, Señor. Es verdad."

      "What are you saying to him?" Jerry asked.

      "He said you are very beautiful and I said that's the Lord's gospel truth. He's sketching you, I think."

      "Can we buy it if it's good?"

      "I'll speak to him later. Up there."

      The car stopped at the terminal on the man-made plateau about a thousand feet from the actual tip of Monte Azul. A wooden rail ran along the edge of the plateau for about a quarter of a mile. Within the rail was the funicular terminal, a souvenir stand, a tiny post office, and a large open-air restaurant.

      "Let's eat," Hall said. "You get hungry as a horse up there."

      They took a table with an enameled orange top near the rail. Large barbecue pits hugged the mountain side of the restaurant, and under a shed roof three cooks presided over a row of steaming pots. From their table, they could see the mile-deep belt of mountain flowers which had been planted in the days of the dictators and expanded by the democrats. There were flowers of every shape and color, but orange was the color which spoke СКАЧАТЬ