Get a Load of This полностью

     Holtz leant forward. “This is how I see it,” he said. “The enemy are in considerable strength. They are well mounted and they have artillery. If we attempted to make a stand here we could be surrounded. We are outnumbered by four to one and our men are tired. They are even disheartened. We have been retreating for the last two weeks.” He tapped the map. “Against artillery we could not hold this position long, then it would be too late to fall back. I think we should withdraw immediately.”

     The General ran his fingers through his close-cropped iron-grey hair. “And you?” he said, looking at Mendetta.

     “We would have to leave the gun,” Mendetta said slowly, knowing that he had touched the point on which the whole situation hinged. “We should not have time to get the gun up the mountain-path to the hills. The enemy are hardly three hours' ride from here. If we retreated now, the gun would have to be abandoned.”

     Cortez smiled. “The gun goes with us. Make no mistake about that. We have taken that gun from the enemy and we have dragged it for three hundred miles. We will not abandon it now.”

     The two officers glanced at each other and shrugged. It was to be expected. They had anticipated that, sooner or later, the accursed gun would endanger the safety of the tattered, retreating army. It was not as if they had any shells. The gun was useless. It was, however, a symbol of the only victory General Cortez had scored against the enemy in a lightning raid, and under no circumstances was he parting with such a symbol. If he was driven back over the mountains, he was determined that the gun should go with him.

     Holtz said, “Your Excellency has no doubt made his plans?”

     There was no longer a bond of sympathy between the two officers and the General. Let the old fool get out of this if he could. They had no wish to endanger their lives for the sake of a captured, useless gun. They were young enough to accept defeat, knowing that they could win perhaps fresh glory another day, but Cortez was getting old. His time was nearly past.

     The General felt their antagonism. He knew they would willingly leave the gun to save their skins, but as long as he was in command they would do as he said. He knew them well enough for that. They might think he was a crazy old fool, they might even grumble, but if he told them the gun was to go, they would obey.

     He sat down at the table again. “One of you will take four men and hold up the enemy's advance. You can have the Lewis gun and four rifles. With the Lewis gun you should be able to hold them back long enough to let the remaining troops get clear. Do you understand?”

     The two officers sat there stupefied. He was asking one of them to sacrifice himself for the gun. Not only that, but he was throwing away the only Lewis gun they had ever possessed. A gun of the utmost value because they had a large quantity of ammunition to go with it. All for a stupid, rusty, useless field-gun, the symbol of his only victory.

     Mendetta said: “The enemy can certainly be delayed, Your Excellency, but eventually they must break through. It will then be too late to retreat. The loss of the Lewis gun will be serious.”

     Cortez shook his head. “Once we are across the mountains, Pablo will not follow us. The fighting will be over. We shall no longer require the Lewis gun. It will have served its purpose. We shall have to re-equip the whole of the army before launching a new offensive.”

     There was a long silence. Neither of the two officers wanted to speak. They waited for Cortez to tell them who was to go. Cortez waved his hand. “Time presses. The officer who undertakes this operation may not be able to retreat. It is a dangerous, but, at the same time, a glorious opportunity. It would not do for me to choose which of you shall do this. I have great faith in you both. Will you gentlemen kindly withdraw and decide between yourselves who is to go? I shall expect your decision in ten minutes.”

     Mendetta got to his feet, saluted and walked out of the room, followed by Holtz. The bright hot sunlight nearly blinded them as they stepped into the courtyard, and without a word they walked stiffly to the small out-house that served as their quarters.

     “He is crazy, the mad senile fool,” Mendetta burst out, as he shut the door behind them. “He is throwing away the lives of four men and an officer, as well as the Lewis, to save his unprintable vanity.”

     Holtz lit a cigarette with a hand that shook a little. He was tall, very dark and handsome. Although he was only twenty-six, he looked a lot older. In spite of the heavy going of the past two weeks, he was smart and his white uniform very neat and clean. A heavy gold chain encircled his brown wrist, and on the second finger of his right hand he wore a curiously fashioned green jade ring. He looked at Mendetta, who was six years his senior. “We haven't long,” he said. “I suppose you will take on this operation?” There was a little mocking smile on his lips that infuriated Mendetta.