Chapter Forty Six.Saint Augustine of the Caves.One of the pleasantest villages in the valley of Mexico is San Augustin de las Cuevas—Tlalpamby Aztec designation—both names due to some remarkable caverns in the immediate neighbourhood. It is some ten or twelve miles from the capital, on the southern or Acapulco road, just where this, forsaking the valley level, begins to ascend the Sierra, passing over which by Cruz del Marques, it continues on through thetierras calentesof Cuernavaca and Guerrero to the famed port of the Pacific.San Augustin is apueblo, endowed with certain municipal privileges. It boasts of analcalde-mayorwith other corporate officers, and a staff of alguezils, or policemen.The heads of departments are mostly men of pure Spanish race—“gente de razon,” as they proudly proclaim themselves—though many are in reality of mixed blood, Mestizos. Of this are the better class of shopkeepers, few in number, thegente de razonat best forming a scarce discernible element in the population, which is mainly made up of the brown aborigines.At a certain season of the year, however, paler complexions show in the ascendant. This during carnival time—“Las Pascuas.” Then the streets of San Augustin are crowded with gay promenaders; while carriages and men on horseback may be seen in continuous stream passing to and fro between it and the capital. In Las Pascuas week, one day with another, half Mexico is there engaged in a gambling orgie, as Londoners at Epsom during the Derby. More like Homburg and Monaco, though; since the betting at Tlalpam is not upon the swiftness of horses, but done with dice and cards. The national game, “monté,” there finds fullest illustration, grand marquees being erected for its play—real temples erected to the goddess Fortuna. Inside these may be seen crowds of the strangest composition, in every sense heterogeneous; military officers, generals and colonels, down to the lowest grade, even sergeants and corporals, sitting at the same table and staking on the same cards; members of Congress, Senators, Cabinet Ministers, and, upon occasions, the Chief of the State, jostling the raggedlepero, and not unfrequently standing elbow to elbow with the footpad and salteador!—Something stranger still, ladies compose part of this miscellaneous assemblage; dames of high birth and proud bearing, but in this carnival of cupidity not disdaining to “punt” on thesotaorcavallo, while brushing skirts with bare-armed, barefooted rustic damsels, andpoblanas, more elaborately robed, but with scantier reputation.After all, it is only Baden on the other side of the Atlantic; and it may be said in favour of San Augustin, the fury lasts for only a few days, instead of a whole season. Then themontébanks disappear, with their dealers and croupiers; the great tents are taken down; the gamesters, gentle and simple, scatter off, most going back to the city; and the littlepuebloTlalpam, resuming its wonted tranquillity, is scarce thought of till Carnival comes again.In its normal condition, though some might deem it rather dull, it is nevertheless one of the pleasantest residential villages in the Valley. Picturesquely situated at the foot of the southern Sierras, which form a bold mountain background, it has on the other side water scenery in the curious Laguna de Xochimilco, while the grim Pedregal also approaches it, giving variety to its surroundings.Besides its fixed population there is one that may be termed floating or intermittent; people who come and go. These are certain “ricos,” who chiefly affect its suburbs, where they have handsome houses—casas de campo. Not in hundreds, as at San Anjel and Tacubaya, Tlalpam being at a greater and more inconvenient distance from the capital. Still there are several around it of first-class, belonging tofamilias principales, though occupied by them only at intervals, and for a few days or weeks at a time.One of these, owned by Don Ignacio Valverde, was a favourite place of residence with him; a tranquil retreat of which he was accustomed to avail himself whenever he could get away from his ministerial duties. Just such an interregnum had arisen some time after the stirring incidents we have recorded, and he went to stay at his San Augustin house with his daughter, the Condesa Almonté going with them as their guest. Since their last appearance before the reader, all three had passed through scenes of trial. An investigation had been gone into regarding the Callé de Plateros affair—private, however, before Santa Anna himself, the world not being made the wiser for it. Its results were all in their favour, thanks to the stern, stubborn fidelity of José, who lied like a very varlet. Such a circumstantial story told he, no one could suspect him of complicity in the escape of theforsados; far less that his mistress, or the Condesa Almonté had to do with it.Don Ignacio, too, had done his share to hinder discovery of the truth. For, in the end, it was found necessary to take him into the secret, the missing cloak and pistols, with several mysterious incidents, calling for explanation. But in making a clean breast of it, his daughter had felt no fear of being betrayed by him. He was not the father to deal harshly with his child; besides, it was something more—a real danger. In addition, she knew how he was affected towards the man she had aided to escape—that he held Don Florencio in highest esteem; looked upon him as a dear friend, and in a certain tacit way had long ago signified approval of him for a son-in-law. All these thoughts passed through Luisa Valverde’s mind while approaching her father, and steeling herself to make confession of that secret she might otherwise have kept from him.The result was not disappointing. Don Ignacio consented to the deception, and they were saved. Whatever the suspicions of Santa Anna and his adjutant, both were baffled about that affair, at least for the time.Alike had they been frustrated in their pursuit of theescapados. Despite the most zealous search through the Pedregal and elsewhere, these could not be found, nor even a trace of them. Still, they were not given up. Every town and village in the valley, in the mountains around, and the country outside were visited by soldiers or spies—every spot likely to harbour the fugitives. Pickets were placed everywhere and patrols despatched, riding the roads by night as by day, all proving abortive.After a time, however, this vigorous action became relaxed. Not that they who had dictated were less desirous of continuing it; but because a matter of more importance than mere personal spite or vengeance was soon likely to declare itself, and threaten their own safety. Talk was beginning to be heard, though only in whispers, and at a far distance from the capital, of a newpronunciamentoin preparation. And in making counter-preparations, the Dictator had now enough to occupy all his energies; not knowing the day or the hour he might again hear the cry he so dreaded, “Patria y Libertad.”Meanwhile the people had ceased to speak of the stirring episode which had occurred in the Callé de Plateros; thought strange only from the odd circumstances attendant, and the fact of two of the fugitives beingTejanos. The city of Mexico has its daily newspapers, and on the morning after a full account of it appeared inEl DiarioandEl Monitor. For all it was but the topic of a week; in ten days no more heard of it; in a month quite forgotten, save by those whom it specially concerned. So varied are the events, so frequent the changes, so strange the Cosas de Mexico!
One of the pleasantest villages in the valley of Mexico is San Augustin de las Cuevas—Tlalpamby Aztec designation—both names due to some remarkable caverns in the immediate neighbourhood. It is some ten or twelve miles from the capital, on the southern or Acapulco road, just where this, forsaking the valley level, begins to ascend the Sierra, passing over which by Cruz del Marques, it continues on through thetierras calentesof Cuernavaca and Guerrero to the famed port of the Pacific.
San Augustin is apueblo, endowed with certain municipal privileges. It boasts of analcalde-mayorwith other corporate officers, and a staff of alguezils, or policemen.
The heads of departments are mostly men of pure Spanish race—“gente de razon,” as they proudly proclaim themselves—though many are in reality of mixed blood, Mestizos. Of this are the better class of shopkeepers, few in number, thegente de razonat best forming a scarce discernible element in the population, which is mainly made up of the brown aborigines.
At a certain season of the year, however, paler complexions show in the ascendant. This during carnival time—“Las Pascuas.” Then the streets of San Augustin are crowded with gay promenaders; while carriages and men on horseback may be seen in continuous stream passing to and fro between it and the capital. In Las Pascuas week, one day with another, half Mexico is there engaged in a gambling orgie, as Londoners at Epsom during the Derby. More like Homburg and Monaco, though; since the betting at Tlalpam is not upon the swiftness of horses, but done with dice and cards. The national game, “monté,” there finds fullest illustration, grand marquees being erected for its play—real temples erected to the goddess Fortuna. Inside these may be seen crowds of the strangest composition, in every sense heterogeneous; military officers, generals and colonels, down to the lowest grade, even sergeants and corporals, sitting at the same table and staking on the same cards; members of Congress, Senators, Cabinet Ministers, and, upon occasions, the Chief of the State, jostling the raggedlepero, and not unfrequently standing elbow to elbow with the footpad and salteador!—Something stranger still, ladies compose part of this miscellaneous assemblage; dames of high birth and proud bearing, but in this carnival of cupidity not disdaining to “punt” on thesotaorcavallo, while brushing skirts with bare-armed, barefooted rustic damsels, andpoblanas, more elaborately robed, but with scantier reputation.
After all, it is only Baden on the other side of the Atlantic; and it may be said in favour of San Augustin, the fury lasts for only a few days, instead of a whole season. Then themontébanks disappear, with their dealers and croupiers; the great tents are taken down; the gamesters, gentle and simple, scatter off, most going back to the city; and the littlepuebloTlalpam, resuming its wonted tranquillity, is scarce thought of till Carnival comes again.
In its normal condition, though some might deem it rather dull, it is nevertheless one of the pleasantest residential villages in the Valley. Picturesquely situated at the foot of the southern Sierras, which form a bold mountain background, it has on the other side water scenery in the curious Laguna de Xochimilco, while the grim Pedregal also approaches it, giving variety to its surroundings.
Besides its fixed population there is one that may be termed floating or intermittent; people who come and go. These are certain “ricos,” who chiefly affect its suburbs, where they have handsome houses—casas de campo. Not in hundreds, as at San Anjel and Tacubaya, Tlalpam being at a greater and more inconvenient distance from the capital. Still there are several around it of first-class, belonging tofamilias principales, though occupied by them only at intervals, and for a few days or weeks at a time.
One of these, owned by Don Ignacio Valverde, was a favourite place of residence with him; a tranquil retreat of which he was accustomed to avail himself whenever he could get away from his ministerial duties. Just such an interregnum had arisen some time after the stirring incidents we have recorded, and he went to stay at his San Augustin house with his daughter, the Condesa Almonté going with them as their guest. Since their last appearance before the reader, all three had passed through scenes of trial. An investigation had been gone into regarding the Callé de Plateros affair—private, however, before Santa Anna himself, the world not being made the wiser for it. Its results were all in their favour, thanks to the stern, stubborn fidelity of José, who lied like a very varlet. Such a circumstantial story told he, no one could suspect him of complicity in the escape of theforsados; far less that his mistress, or the Condesa Almonté had to do with it.
Don Ignacio, too, had done his share to hinder discovery of the truth. For, in the end, it was found necessary to take him into the secret, the missing cloak and pistols, with several mysterious incidents, calling for explanation. But in making a clean breast of it, his daughter had felt no fear of being betrayed by him. He was not the father to deal harshly with his child; besides, it was something more—a real danger. In addition, she knew how he was affected towards the man she had aided to escape—that he held Don Florencio in highest esteem; looked upon him as a dear friend, and in a certain tacit way had long ago signified approval of him for a son-in-law. All these thoughts passed through Luisa Valverde’s mind while approaching her father, and steeling herself to make confession of that secret she might otherwise have kept from him.
The result was not disappointing. Don Ignacio consented to the deception, and they were saved. Whatever the suspicions of Santa Anna and his adjutant, both were baffled about that affair, at least for the time.
Alike had they been frustrated in their pursuit of theescapados. Despite the most zealous search through the Pedregal and elsewhere, these could not be found, nor even a trace of them. Still, they were not given up. Every town and village in the valley, in the mountains around, and the country outside were visited by soldiers or spies—every spot likely to harbour the fugitives. Pickets were placed everywhere and patrols despatched, riding the roads by night as by day, all proving abortive.
After a time, however, this vigorous action became relaxed. Not that they who had dictated were less desirous of continuing it; but because a matter of more importance than mere personal spite or vengeance was soon likely to declare itself, and threaten their own safety. Talk was beginning to be heard, though only in whispers, and at a far distance from the capital, of a newpronunciamentoin preparation. And in making counter-preparations, the Dictator had now enough to occupy all his energies; not knowing the day or the hour he might again hear the cry he so dreaded, “Patria y Libertad.”
Meanwhile the people had ceased to speak of the stirring episode which had occurred in the Callé de Plateros; thought strange only from the odd circumstances attendant, and the fact of two of the fugitives beingTejanos. The city of Mexico has its daily newspapers, and on the morning after a full account of it appeared inEl DiarioandEl Monitor. For all it was but the topic of a week; in ten days no more heard of it; in a month quite forgotten, save by those whom it specially concerned. So varied are the events, so frequent the changes, so strange the Cosas de Mexico!
Chapter Forty Seven.Over the Cliff.For some time after their arrival at the old monastery, neither Kearney nor Cris Rock saw aught of their late “fourth fellow” prisoner—the hunchback. They cared not to inquire after him; the Texan repeating himself by saying,—“This chile don’t want ever to sit eyes on his ugly pictur agin.” They supposed that he was still there, however, somewhere about the building.And so was he, with a chain attached to his leg, the same he had shared with Rock, its severed end now padlocked to a ring bolt; and the apartment he occupied had as much of the prison aspect as any cell in the Acordada. No doubt, in days gone by, many a refractory brother had pined and done penance therein for breach of monastic discipline.Why the mis-shapen creature was so kept needs little explanation; for the same reason as prompted to bringing him thither. Helpless as he might appear, he was not harmless; and Don Ruperto knew that to restore him to liberty would be to risk losing his own, with something more. Though safely bestowed, however, no severity was shown him. He had his meals regularly, and a bed to sleep on, if but a pallet, quite as good as he had been accustomed to. Moreover, after some time had elapsed, he was relieved from this close confinement during the hours of the day. A clever actor, and having a tongue that could “wheedle with the devil,” he had wheedled with the mayor-domo to granting him certain indulgences; among them being allowed to spend part of his time in the kitchen and scullery. Not in idleness, however, but occupied with work for which he had proved himself well qualified. It was found that he had once been “boots” in aposado, which fitted him for usefulness in many ways.In thecocinaof the old convent his temper was sorely tried, the other “mozos” making cruel sport of him. But he bore it with a meekness very different to what he had shown while in the Acordada.Thus acquitting himself, Gregorio, who had him in special charge, began to regard him as a useful if not ornamental addition to his domestic staff of the establishment. Notwithstanding, the precaution was still continued of locking him at night and re-attaching the chain to his ankle. This last was more disagreeable than aught else he had to endure. He could bear the jibes of his fellow-scullions, but that fetter sorely vexed him; as night after night he was accustomed to say to the mayor-domo as he was turning the key in its clasp.“It’s so uncomfortable, Señor Don Gregorio,” was his constantly recurring formula. “Keeps me from sleeping and’s very troublesome when I want to turn over, as I often do on account of the pains in my poor humped shoulders. Now, why need you put it on? Surely you’re not afraid of me trying to get away? Ha, ha! that would be turning one’s back upon best friends.Cascaras! I fare too well here to think of changing quarters. Above all, going into the Acordada; where I’d have to go sure, if I were to show my face in the city again. Oh no, Señor! you don’t catch me leaving this snug crib, so long’s you allow me to board and bed in it. Only I’d like you to let me off from that nasty thing. It’s cold too; interferes with my comfort generally. Do, good Don Gregorio! For this one night try me without it. And if you’re not satisfied with the result, then put it on ever after, and I won’t complain, I promise you.”In somewhat similar forms he had made appeals for many nights in succession, but without melting the heart of the “Good Don Gregorio.”At length, however, it proved effectual. Among various other avocations he had been aZapartero, of the class cobbler, and on a certain day did service to the mayor-domo by mending his shoes. For which he received payment in the permission to pass that night without being discommoded by the chain.“It’s so very kind of you, Don Gregorio!” he said, when made aware of the grace to be given to him. “I ought to sleep sound this night, anyhow. But whether I do or not, I shall pray for you before going to bed all the same.Buenas noches!”It was twilight outside, but almost total darkness within the cell, as the mayor-domo turned to go out of it. Otherwise he might have seen on the dwarfs features an expression calculated to make him repent his act of kindness, and instantly undo it. Could he have divined the thoughts at that moment passing through Zorillo’s mind, the clasp would have quickly closed around the latter’s leg, despite all gratitude due to him for the patching of the shoes.“If I can get out,” he commenced in mental soliloquy, as the footfall of the mayor-domo died away in the distant corridor, “out and away from them, my fortune’s made; all sorts of good things in store for me. From this time forth I needn’t fear to present myself at the door of the Acordada; walk right into it. No danger of Don Pedro keeping me there now. Instead, I should be sent out again with a free pardon and a full purse.Chingara, talk of a cat in the cupboard, here are a score of them—half a hundred! And when I let them out—aha!”He paused; then rising to his feet, moved across to the door, and laid his ear against it to listen. He heard sounds, but they were sounds of merriment—the counterfeit monks at their evening meal—and did not concern him.“What a bit of luck it may turn out, after all, my getting coupled to that great brute and brought here! That is, if all goes well, and I can give them the slip. First, to make sure about the possibility of getting out of this hole.Carrai! I may be counting my chickens in the eggs.”Leaving the door, he glided across to the window, and set himself square against it, as if to measure its breadth by that of his own body. It was but a slit, unglazed, a single iron bar, placed vertically, dividing the aperture into two. Without removing this he could not possibly pass through. But he had the means to remove it; that file, already known to the reader, which he had contrived to get possession of, and for days kept secret in his cell. First, however, he must see whether it was worth while using it; for during all the time of his being there he had never been allowed an opportunity to approach the window and look out.Leaning forward into the recess, he thrust his head between the bar and jamb, so far out as to give him a view of the ground below. This was solid rock, the crest of a steep slope, from which the wall rose as above a buttress. But there was a ledge, some ten or twelve feet under the sill, narrow, but wide enough to afford footing, which led off to more level ground. How was he to reach it?He knew, or he would not have acted as he now did. For without spending another second in the survey, he drew back from the window, plunged his hand under his bed mat, drew forth the file, and commenced rasping away at the bar. Not noisily or in any excited haste. Even if the obstacle were removed, the time had not come for his attempt to pass out. He would wait for an hour after midnight, when all had gone to their beds.Eaten with rust, the iron was easily sawed through, a clean cut being made near its lower end. Then, laying aside the file, and grasping the bar, he wrenched it out of the solderings. If diminutive in body, his arms were sinewy and strong as those of a coal-heaver.This task accomplished, he turned to his pallet and taking up the old blanket allowed him for a covering, began to tear it into strips. He meant to make a rope of it to lower himself down outside. But finding it quite rotten, and doubting whether it would bear his weight, he desisted and sat for a time considering. Not long till he bethought himself of something more suitable for his purpose—the chain.“Bah!” he exclaimed, tossing aside the rags he had commenced splicing together, “why didn’t I think of that? Well, it’s not too late yet. Good three yards—long enough. And the stupid has left the key behind, which fits both ends. So, Mr Chain, considering the world of worry and trouble you’ve been to me, it’s time, and only fair, you should do me a good turn by way of recompense. After you’ve done it, I’ll forgive you.”While muttering this quaint apostrophe, he commenced groping about over the floor—not for the chain, but the key, which he knew Gregorio had left, after releasing his leg from the clasp. The mayor-domo had either forgotten, or did not think it was worth while taking it away.Having found it, he felt his way to the ring bolt, and unlocking the clasp at that end, returned to the window, taking the chain with him. Having made one end fast around the stump of the bar, he lowered the other down outside, cautiously, without a tinkle of its links. And now again looking out and below, he was delighted to see that it reached within a foot or two of the ledge. All this done, he once more sat down on the side of the bed, to await the hour of midnight.But he was not long quiescent, when a thought occurring caused him to resume action.“Why not try it now?” he mentally interrogated. “They’re all in the Refectory, having a fine time of it, drinking their famous wines. Some grand occasion, I heard one of themozossay. There mightn’t be a better chance for me than this very minute—maybe not so good.Carramba! I’ll risk it now.”Quickly at the words he glided back to the window, climbed up into it, and squeezing out through the aperture, let himself down on the chain, link by link, as a monkey making descent of allianain the forests of thetierra caliente.Soon as he found himself safe landed he let go the chain, and after a minute or so spent in silent reconnaissance of the ledge, commenced moving off along it.Right he was in choosing that early hour, for the way he must needs take led out into the open ground, in front of the building, where at a later one a watch would have been stationed. There was none there now, and without stop or challenge he passed on and down.Though they had never allowed him to go outside the building, he perfectly remembered the path by which he and the others had reached it, on that memorable night after their escape from the chain-gang. He recalled the two steep slopes, one above the other, with a narrow shelf between, on which they encountered the sentinel, who had hailed, “Quien viva?”Sure to be one there now, and to such hail what answer could he make?On this he reflected while descending the upper slope. The darkness due to the overshadowing trees made it necessary for him to go slowly, so giving him time. But it did not hinder his keeping to the path. With his long arms like the tentacles of an octopus he was able to direct his course, now and then using them to grasp overhanging branches, or the parasites dependent therefrom. Withal he went cautiously, and so silently, that the sentinel—for sure enough one was there—heard no noise to warn him of an enemy behind. In his monkish garb, he was standing on the outer edge of the shelf rock, his face turned to the valley, which was just beginning to show silvery white under the rays of a rising moon. Perhaps, like Don Ruperto, he was gazing on some spot, a house endeared to him as the home of his childhood; but from which, as the leader of the Free Lances, he had been bereft by the last confiscation. Possibly he was indulging in the hope of its being soon restored to him, but least of all dreaming of danger behind.It was there, notwithstanding—in fiendish shape and close proximity. A creature squatted like a toad, human withal, saying to himself—“What wouldn’t I give for a knife with a blade six inches long!”Then, with a sudden change of thought, seeing the chance to do without the knife, making a dash forward, with the ape-like arms extended, and pushing the sentinel over!The cry that came from the latter, on feeling the impulse from behind, was stifled as he went whirling to the bottom of the cliff.
For some time after their arrival at the old monastery, neither Kearney nor Cris Rock saw aught of their late “fourth fellow” prisoner—the hunchback. They cared not to inquire after him; the Texan repeating himself by saying,—“This chile don’t want ever to sit eyes on his ugly pictur agin.” They supposed that he was still there, however, somewhere about the building.
And so was he, with a chain attached to his leg, the same he had shared with Rock, its severed end now padlocked to a ring bolt; and the apartment he occupied had as much of the prison aspect as any cell in the Acordada. No doubt, in days gone by, many a refractory brother had pined and done penance therein for breach of monastic discipline.
Why the mis-shapen creature was so kept needs little explanation; for the same reason as prompted to bringing him thither. Helpless as he might appear, he was not harmless; and Don Ruperto knew that to restore him to liberty would be to risk losing his own, with something more. Though safely bestowed, however, no severity was shown him. He had his meals regularly, and a bed to sleep on, if but a pallet, quite as good as he had been accustomed to. Moreover, after some time had elapsed, he was relieved from this close confinement during the hours of the day. A clever actor, and having a tongue that could “wheedle with the devil,” he had wheedled with the mayor-domo to granting him certain indulgences; among them being allowed to spend part of his time in the kitchen and scullery. Not in idleness, however, but occupied with work for which he had proved himself well qualified. It was found that he had once been “boots” in aposado, which fitted him for usefulness in many ways.
In thecocinaof the old convent his temper was sorely tried, the other “mozos” making cruel sport of him. But he bore it with a meekness very different to what he had shown while in the Acordada.
Thus acquitting himself, Gregorio, who had him in special charge, began to regard him as a useful if not ornamental addition to his domestic staff of the establishment. Notwithstanding, the precaution was still continued of locking him at night and re-attaching the chain to his ankle. This last was more disagreeable than aught else he had to endure. He could bear the jibes of his fellow-scullions, but that fetter sorely vexed him; as night after night he was accustomed to say to the mayor-domo as he was turning the key in its clasp.
“It’s so uncomfortable, Señor Don Gregorio,” was his constantly recurring formula. “Keeps me from sleeping and’s very troublesome when I want to turn over, as I often do on account of the pains in my poor humped shoulders. Now, why need you put it on? Surely you’re not afraid of me trying to get away? Ha, ha! that would be turning one’s back upon best friends.Cascaras! I fare too well here to think of changing quarters. Above all, going into the Acordada; where I’d have to go sure, if I were to show my face in the city again. Oh no, Señor! you don’t catch me leaving this snug crib, so long’s you allow me to board and bed in it. Only I’d like you to let me off from that nasty thing. It’s cold too; interferes with my comfort generally. Do, good Don Gregorio! For this one night try me without it. And if you’re not satisfied with the result, then put it on ever after, and I won’t complain, I promise you.”
In somewhat similar forms he had made appeals for many nights in succession, but without melting the heart of the “Good Don Gregorio.”
At length, however, it proved effectual. Among various other avocations he had been aZapartero, of the class cobbler, and on a certain day did service to the mayor-domo by mending his shoes. For which he received payment in the permission to pass that night without being discommoded by the chain.
“It’s so very kind of you, Don Gregorio!” he said, when made aware of the grace to be given to him. “I ought to sleep sound this night, anyhow. But whether I do or not, I shall pray for you before going to bed all the same.Buenas noches!”
It was twilight outside, but almost total darkness within the cell, as the mayor-domo turned to go out of it. Otherwise he might have seen on the dwarfs features an expression calculated to make him repent his act of kindness, and instantly undo it. Could he have divined the thoughts at that moment passing through Zorillo’s mind, the clasp would have quickly closed around the latter’s leg, despite all gratitude due to him for the patching of the shoes.
“If I can get out,” he commenced in mental soliloquy, as the footfall of the mayor-domo died away in the distant corridor, “out and away from them, my fortune’s made; all sorts of good things in store for me. From this time forth I needn’t fear to present myself at the door of the Acordada; walk right into it. No danger of Don Pedro keeping me there now. Instead, I should be sent out again with a free pardon and a full purse.Chingara, talk of a cat in the cupboard, here are a score of them—half a hundred! And when I let them out—aha!”
He paused; then rising to his feet, moved across to the door, and laid his ear against it to listen. He heard sounds, but they were sounds of merriment—the counterfeit monks at their evening meal—and did not concern him.
“What a bit of luck it may turn out, after all, my getting coupled to that great brute and brought here! That is, if all goes well, and I can give them the slip. First, to make sure about the possibility of getting out of this hole.Carrai! I may be counting my chickens in the eggs.”
Leaving the door, he glided across to the window, and set himself square against it, as if to measure its breadth by that of his own body. It was but a slit, unglazed, a single iron bar, placed vertically, dividing the aperture into two. Without removing this he could not possibly pass through. But he had the means to remove it; that file, already known to the reader, which he had contrived to get possession of, and for days kept secret in his cell. First, however, he must see whether it was worth while using it; for during all the time of his being there he had never been allowed an opportunity to approach the window and look out.
Leaning forward into the recess, he thrust his head between the bar and jamb, so far out as to give him a view of the ground below. This was solid rock, the crest of a steep slope, from which the wall rose as above a buttress. But there was a ledge, some ten or twelve feet under the sill, narrow, but wide enough to afford footing, which led off to more level ground. How was he to reach it?
He knew, or he would not have acted as he now did. For without spending another second in the survey, he drew back from the window, plunged his hand under his bed mat, drew forth the file, and commenced rasping away at the bar. Not noisily or in any excited haste. Even if the obstacle were removed, the time had not come for his attempt to pass out. He would wait for an hour after midnight, when all had gone to their beds.
Eaten with rust, the iron was easily sawed through, a clean cut being made near its lower end. Then, laying aside the file, and grasping the bar, he wrenched it out of the solderings. If diminutive in body, his arms were sinewy and strong as those of a coal-heaver.
This task accomplished, he turned to his pallet and taking up the old blanket allowed him for a covering, began to tear it into strips. He meant to make a rope of it to lower himself down outside. But finding it quite rotten, and doubting whether it would bear his weight, he desisted and sat for a time considering. Not long till he bethought himself of something more suitable for his purpose—the chain.
“Bah!” he exclaimed, tossing aside the rags he had commenced splicing together, “why didn’t I think of that? Well, it’s not too late yet. Good three yards—long enough. And the stupid has left the key behind, which fits both ends. So, Mr Chain, considering the world of worry and trouble you’ve been to me, it’s time, and only fair, you should do me a good turn by way of recompense. After you’ve done it, I’ll forgive you.”
While muttering this quaint apostrophe, he commenced groping about over the floor—not for the chain, but the key, which he knew Gregorio had left, after releasing his leg from the clasp. The mayor-domo had either forgotten, or did not think it was worth while taking it away.
Having found it, he felt his way to the ring bolt, and unlocking the clasp at that end, returned to the window, taking the chain with him. Having made one end fast around the stump of the bar, he lowered the other down outside, cautiously, without a tinkle of its links. And now again looking out and below, he was delighted to see that it reached within a foot or two of the ledge. All this done, he once more sat down on the side of the bed, to await the hour of midnight.
But he was not long quiescent, when a thought occurring caused him to resume action.
“Why not try it now?” he mentally interrogated. “They’re all in the Refectory, having a fine time of it, drinking their famous wines. Some grand occasion, I heard one of themozossay. There mightn’t be a better chance for me than this very minute—maybe not so good.Carramba! I’ll risk it now.”
Quickly at the words he glided back to the window, climbed up into it, and squeezing out through the aperture, let himself down on the chain, link by link, as a monkey making descent of allianain the forests of thetierra caliente.
Soon as he found himself safe landed he let go the chain, and after a minute or so spent in silent reconnaissance of the ledge, commenced moving off along it.
Right he was in choosing that early hour, for the way he must needs take led out into the open ground, in front of the building, where at a later one a watch would have been stationed. There was none there now, and without stop or challenge he passed on and down.
Though they had never allowed him to go outside the building, he perfectly remembered the path by which he and the others had reached it, on that memorable night after their escape from the chain-gang. He recalled the two steep slopes, one above the other, with a narrow shelf between, on which they encountered the sentinel, who had hailed, “Quien viva?”
Sure to be one there now, and to such hail what answer could he make?
On this he reflected while descending the upper slope. The darkness due to the overshadowing trees made it necessary for him to go slowly, so giving him time. But it did not hinder his keeping to the path. With his long arms like the tentacles of an octopus he was able to direct his course, now and then using them to grasp overhanging branches, or the parasites dependent therefrom. Withal he went cautiously, and so silently, that the sentinel—for sure enough one was there—heard no noise to warn him of an enemy behind. In his monkish garb, he was standing on the outer edge of the shelf rock, his face turned to the valley, which was just beginning to show silvery white under the rays of a rising moon. Perhaps, like Don Ruperto, he was gazing on some spot, a house endeared to him as the home of his childhood; but from which, as the leader of the Free Lances, he had been bereft by the last confiscation. Possibly he was indulging in the hope of its being soon restored to him, but least of all dreaming of danger behind.
It was there, notwithstanding—in fiendish shape and close proximity. A creature squatted like a toad, human withal, saying to himself—
“What wouldn’t I give for a knife with a blade six inches long!”
Then, with a sudden change of thought, seeing the chance to do without the knife, making a dash forward, with the ape-like arms extended, and pushing the sentinel over!
The cry that came from the latter, on feeling the impulse from behind, was stifled as he went whirling to the bottom of the cliff.
Chapter Forty Eight.On down the Mountain.“Dead!” muttered the inhuman wretch, as he stood upon the spot late occupied by his victim, looking down over the cliff. “Dead he must be; unless a man can fall two hundred feet and still live; which isn’t likely. That clears the way, I take it; and unless I have the ill luck to meet some one coming up—a straggler—it’ll be all right. As sound ascends, I ought to hear them before they couldseeme. I shall keep my ears open.”Saying which hecommencedthe descent of thesecondslope, proceeding in the same cautious way as before.The path was but a ledge, which, after running fifty yards in a direct line, made an abrupt double back in the opposite direction, all the while obliquing downwards. Another similar zig-zag, with a like length of declivity traversed, and he found himself at the cliff’s base, among shadowy, thick standing trees. He remembered the place, and that before reaching it on their way up they had followed the trend of the cliff for more than a quarter of a mile. So, taking this for his guide, he kept on along the back track.Not far, before seeing that which brought him to a stop. If he had entertained any doubt about the sentinel being dead, it would have been resolved now. There lay the man’s body among the loose rocks, not only lifeless, but shapeless. A break in the continuity of the timber let the moonlight through, giving the murderer a full view of him he had murdered.The sentinel had fallen upon his back, and lay with his face upward, his crushed body doubled over a boulder; the blood was welling from his mouth and nostrils, and the open eyes glared ghastly in the white, weird light. It was a sight to inspire fear in the mind of an ordinary individual, even in that of a murderer. But it had no effect on this strangelususof humanity, whose courage was equal to his cruelty. Instead of giving the body a wide berth, and scared-like stealing past, he walked boldly up to it, saying in apostrophe—“So you’re there! Well, you need not blame me, but your luck. If I hadn’t pushed you over, you’d have shot me like a dog, or brained me with the butt of your gun. Aha! I was too much for you, Mr Monk or soldier, whichever you were, for you’re neither now.“Just possible,” he continued, changing the form of his monologue, “he may have a purse; the which I’m sure to stand in need of before this time to-morrow. If without money, his weapons may be of use to me.”With a nimbleness which bespoke him no novice at trying pockets, he soon touched the bottom of all those on the body, to find them empty.“Bah!” he ejaculated, drawing back with a disappointed air, “I might have known there was nothing in them. Whatever cash they’ve had up there has been spent long ago, and their wine will soon be out too. His gun I don’t care for; besides, I see it’s broken;—yes, the stock snapped clean off. But this stiletto, it’s worth taking with me. Even if I shouldn’t need it as a weapon, it looks like a thing Mr Pawnbroker would appreciate.”Snatching the dagger—a silver-hilted one—from the corpse of its ill-starred owner, he secreted it inside his tattered rag of a coat, and without delay proceeded on.Soon after he came to a point where the path, forsaking the cliff, turned to the left, down the slope of the mountain. He knew that would take him into the Pedregal, where he did not desire to go. Besides his doubts of being able to find the way through the lava field, there was no particular need for his attempting so difficult a track. All he wanted was to get back to the city by the most direct route, and as soon as possible into the presence of a man of whom during late days he had been thinking much. For from this man he expected much, in return for a tale he could tell him. It must be told direct, and for this reason all caution was required. He might fall into hands that would not only hinder him from relating it in the right quarter, but prevent his telling it at all.Just where the path diverged to the left, going down to the Pedregal, a mass of rocks rose bare above the tops of the trees. Clambering to its summit he obtained a view of what lay below; the whole valley bathed in bright moonlight, green meadows, fields of maize, and maguey, great sheets of water with haze hanging over them, white and gauzy as a bridal veil. The city itself was distinguishable at a long distance, and in places nearer specklings of white telling of somepueblita, or single spots where stood aranchoorhacienda. Closer still, almost under his feet, a clump of those mottlings was more conspicuous; which he recognised as thepuebloof San Augustin. A narrow ribbon-like strip of greyish white passing through it, and on to the city, he knew to be the Great Southern or Acapulco Road, which enters the capital by thegaritaof San Antonio de Abad. This route he decided on taking.Having made note of the necessary bearings, he slipped back down the side of the rock, and looked about for a path leading to the right.Not long till he discovered one, a mere trace made by wild animals through the underwood—sufficiently practicable for him, as he could work his way through any tangle of thicket. Sprawling along it, and rapidly, despite all obstructions, he at length came out on the Acapulco Road, a wide causeway, with the moon full upon it.The track was easy and clear even now, too clear to satisfy him. He would have preferred a darker night San Augustin had to be passed through, and he knew that in it were bothserenosandalguazils. Besides, he had heard themoxosat the monastery speak of troops stationed there, and patrols at all hours along the roads around. If taken up by these he might still hope to reach his intended destination; but neither in the time he desired, nor the way he wished. He must approach the man with whom he meant seeking an interview, not as a prisoner but voluntarily. And he must see this man soon, to make things effectual, as the reward he was dreaming of sure.Urged by these reflections, he made no further delay; but taking to the dusty road, moved in all haste along it. In one way the moon was in his favour. The causeway was not straight, for it was still a deep descent towards the valley, and carried by zig-zags; so that at each angle he was enabled to scan the stretch ahead, and see that it was clear, before exposing himself upon it. Then he would advance rapidly on the next turning-point, stop again, and reconnoitre.Thus alternately making traverses and pauses, he at length reached the outskirts of thepueblo, unchallenged and unobserved. But the problem was how to pass through it; all the more difficult at that early hour. He had heard the church clock tolling the hours as he came down the mountain, and he knew it had not struck ten. A beautiful night, the villagers would be all abroad; and how was he to appear in the street without attracting notice—he above all men? His deformity of itself would betray him. An expression of blackest bitterness came over his features as he thus reflected. But it was not a time to indulge in sentimentalities. San Augustin must be got through somehow, if he could not find a way around it.For this last he had been looking some time, both to the right and left. To his joy, just as he caught sight of the first houses—villa residences they were, far straggling along the road—a lane running in behind them seemed to promise what he was in search of. From its direction it should enable him to turn the village, without the necessity of passing through theplaza, or at all entering upon the streets. Without more ado he dodged into the lane.It proved the very sort of way he was wishing for; dark from being overshadowed with trees. A high park-like wall extended along one side of it, within which were the trees, their great boughs drooping down over.Keeping close in to the wall he glided on, and had got some distance from the main road, when he saw that which brought him to a sudden stop—a man approaching from the opposite direction. In the dim light, the figure was as yet barely discernible, but there was a certain something in its gait—the confidential swagger of the policeman—which caught the practised eye of Zorillo, involuntarily drawing from him the muttered speech—“Maltida sea! An alguazil!”Whether the man was this or not, he must be avoided; and, luckily for the dwarf, the means of shunning him were at hand, easy as convenient. It was but to raise his long arms above his head, lay hold of one of the overhanging branches, and draw himself up to the top of the wall; which he did upon the instant. It was a structure ofadobes, with a coping quite a yard in width, and laid flat along this, he was altogether invisible to one passing below.The man, alguazil or not, neither saw him nor suspected his being there, but walked tranquilly on.When he was well beyond earshot the dwarf, deeming himself safe, was about to drop back into the lane, when a murmur of voices prompted him to keep his perch. They were feminine, sweet as the sound of rippling brooks, and gradually becoming more distinct; which told him that those from whom they proceeded were approaching the spot. He had already observed that the enclosure was a grand ornamental garden with walks, fountains, and flowers; a large house on its farther side.Presently the speakers appeared—two young ladies sauntering side by side along one of the walks, the soft moonlight streaming down upon them. As it fell full upon their faces, now turned toward the wall, the dwarf started at a recognition, inwardly exclaiming—“Santissima! The señoritas of the carriage!”
“Dead!” muttered the inhuman wretch, as he stood upon the spot late occupied by his victim, looking down over the cliff. “Dead he must be; unless a man can fall two hundred feet and still live; which isn’t likely. That clears the way, I take it; and unless I have the ill luck to meet some one coming up—a straggler—it’ll be all right. As sound ascends, I ought to hear them before they couldseeme. I shall keep my ears open.”
Saying which hecommencedthe descent of thesecondslope, proceeding in the same cautious way as before.
The path was but a ledge, which, after running fifty yards in a direct line, made an abrupt double back in the opposite direction, all the while obliquing downwards. Another similar zig-zag, with a like length of declivity traversed, and he found himself at the cliff’s base, among shadowy, thick standing trees. He remembered the place, and that before reaching it on their way up they had followed the trend of the cliff for more than a quarter of a mile. So, taking this for his guide, he kept on along the back track.
Not far, before seeing that which brought him to a stop. If he had entertained any doubt about the sentinel being dead, it would have been resolved now. There lay the man’s body among the loose rocks, not only lifeless, but shapeless. A break in the continuity of the timber let the moonlight through, giving the murderer a full view of him he had murdered.
The sentinel had fallen upon his back, and lay with his face upward, his crushed body doubled over a boulder; the blood was welling from his mouth and nostrils, and the open eyes glared ghastly in the white, weird light. It was a sight to inspire fear in the mind of an ordinary individual, even in that of a murderer. But it had no effect on this strangelususof humanity, whose courage was equal to his cruelty. Instead of giving the body a wide berth, and scared-like stealing past, he walked boldly up to it, saying in apostrophe—
“So you’re there! Well, you need not blame me, but your luck. If I hadn’t pushed you over, you’d have shot me like a dog, or brained me with the butt of your gun. Aha! I was too much for you, Mr Monk or soldier, whichever you were, for you’re neither now.
“Just possible,” he continued, changing the form of his monologue, “he may have a purse; the which I’m sure to stand in need of before this time to-morrow. If without money, his weapons may be of use to me.”
With a nimbleness which bespoke him no novice at trying pockets, he soon touched the bottom of all those on the body, to find them empty.
“Bah!” he ejaculated, drawing back with a disappointed air, “I might have known there was nothing in them. Whatever cash they’ve had up there has been spent long ago, and their wine will soon be out too. His gun I don’t care for; besides, I see it’s broken;—yes, the stock snapped clean off. But this stiletto, it’s worth taking with me. Even if I shouldn’t need it as a weapon, it looks like a thing Mr Pawnbroker would appreciate.”
Snatching the dagger—a silver-hilted one—from the corpse of its ill-starred owner, he secreted it inside his tattered rag of a coat, and without delay proceeded on.
Soon after he came to a point where the path, forsaking the cliff, turned to the left, down the slope of the mountain. He knew that would take him into the Pedregal, where he did not desire to go. Besides his doubts of being able to find the way through the lava field, there was no particular need for his attempting so difficult a track. All he wanted was to get back to the city by the most direct route, and as soon as possible into the presence of a man of whom during late days he had been thinking much. For from this man he expected much, in return for a tale he could tell him. It must be told direct, and for this reason all caution was required. He might fall into hands that would not only hinder him from relating it in the right quarter, but prevent his telling it at all.
Just where the path diverged to the left, going down to the Pedregal, a mass of rocks rose bare above the tops of the trees. Clambering to its summit he obtained a view of what lay below; the whole valley bathed in bright moonlight, green meadows, fields of maize, and maguey, great sheets of water with haze hanging over them, white and gauzy as a bridal veil. The city itself was distinguishable at a long distance, and in places nearer specklings of white telling of somepueblita, or single spots where stood aranchoorhacienda. Closer still, almost under his feet, a clump of those mottlings was more conspicuous; which he recognised as thepuebloof San Augustin. A narrow ribbon-like strip of greyish white passing through it, and on to the city, he knew to be the Great Southern or Acapulco Road, which enters the capital by thegaritaof San Antonio de Abad. This route he decided on taking.
Having made note of the necessary bearings, he slipped back down the side of the rock, and looked about for a path leading to the right.
Not long till he discovered one, a mere trace made by wild animals through the underwood—sufficiently practicable for him, as he could work his way through any tangle of thicket. Sprawling along it, and rapidly, despite all obstructions, he at length came out on the Acapulco Road, a wide causeway, with the moon full upon it.
The track was easy and clear even now, too clear to satisfy him. He would have preferred a darker night San Augustin had to be passed through, and he knew that in it were bothserenosandalguazils. Besides, he had heard themoxosat the monastery speak of troops stationed there, and patrols at all hours along the roads around. If taken up by these he might still hope to reach his intended destination; but neither in the time he desired, nor the way he wished. He must approach the man with whom he meant seeking an interview, not as a prisoner but voluntarily. And he must see this man soon, to make things effectual, as the reward he was dreaming of sure.
Urged by these reflections, he made no further delay; but taking to the dusty road, moved in all haste along it. In one way the moon was in his favour. The causeway was not straight, for it was still a deep descent towards the valley, and carried by zig-zags; so that at each angle he was enabled to scan the stretch ahead, and see that it was clear, before exposing himself upon it. Then he would advance rapidly on the next turning-point, stop again, and reconnoitre.
Thus alternately making traverses and pauses, he at length reached the outskirts of thepueblo, unchallenged and unobserved. But the problem was how to pass through it; all the more difficult at that early hour. He had heard the church clock tolling the hours as he came down the mountain, and he knew it had not struck ten. A beautiful night, the villagers would be all abroad; and how was he to appear in the street without attracting notice—he above all men? His deformity of itself would betray him. An expression of blackest bitterness came over his features as he thus reflected. But it was not a time to indulge in sentimentalities. San Augustin must be got through somehow, if he could not find a way around it.
For this last he had been looking some time, both to the right and left. To his joy, just as he caught sight of the first houses—villa residences they were, far straggling along the road—a lane running in behind them seemed to promise what he was in search of. From its direction it should enable him to turn the village, without the necessity of passing through theplaza, or at all entering upon the streets. Without more ado he dodged into the lane.
It proved the very sort of way he was wishing for; dark from being overshadowed with trees. A high park-like wall extended along one side of it, within which were the trees, their great boughs drooping down over.
Keeping close in to the wall he glided on, and had got some distance from the main road, when he saw that which brought him to a sudden stop—a man approaching from the opposite direction. In the dim light, the figure was as yet barely discernible, but there was a certain something in its gait—the confidential swagger of the policeman—which caught the practised eye of Zorillo, involuntarily drawing from him the muttered speech—
“Maltida sea! An alguazil!”
Whether the man was this or not, he must be avoided; and, luckily for the dwarf, the means of shunning him were at hand, easy as convenient. It was but to raise his long arms above his head, lay hold of one of the overhanging branches, and draw himself up to the top of the wall; which he did upon the instant. It was a structure ofadobes, with a coping quite a yard in width, and laid flat along this, he was altogether invisible to one passing below.
The man, alguazil or not, neither saw him nor suspected his being there, but walked tranquilly on.
When he was well beyond earshot the dwarf, deeming himself safe, was about to drop back into the lane, when a murmur of voices prompted him to keep his perch. They were feminine, sweet as the sound of rippling brooks, and gradually becoming more distinct; which told him that those from whom they proceeded were approaching the spot. He had already observed that the enclosure was a grand ornamental garden with walks, fountains, and flowers; a large house on its farther side.
Presently the speakers appeared—two young ladies sauntering side by side along one of the walks, the soft moonlight streaming down upon them. As it fell full upon their faces, now turned toward the wall, the dwarf started at a recognition, inwardly exclaiming—
“Santissima! The señoritas of the carriage!”
Chapter Forty Nine.A Tale of Starvation.It was the garden of Don Ignacio’scasa de campo; the ladies, his daughter and the Condesa. The lovely night, with balm in the air and a bright moon shining through the sky, had drawn them out, and they strolled through the grounds, keeping step, as it were, to that matchless melody, the song of theczenzontle. But note of no nightingale was in their thoughts, which were engrossed by graver themes.“’Tis so strange our never hearing from them, and not a word of them. What do you make of it, Ysabel? Is it a bad sign?”The question was asked by the Doña Luisa.“That we haven’t heard from them is—in a way,” responded the Countess. “Yet that may be explained, too. The probability is, from the roads being all watched and guarded, as we know they are, they’d be cautious about communicating with us. If they’ve sent a messenger—which I hope they haven’t—he must have been intercepted and made prisoner. And then, the message; that might compromise us. But I know Ruperto will be careful. Not to have heard of them is all for the best—the very best. It should almost assure us that they’re still free, and safe somewhere. Had they been recaptured, we’d have known before this. All Mexico would be talking about it.”“True,” assented Don Ignacio’s daughter, with a feeling of relief. “They cannot have been retaken. But I wonder where they are now.”“So I myself, Luisita. I hope, however, not at that old monastery of which Ruperto gave me a description in one of his letters. It’s somewhere up in the mountains. But with the country all around so occupied by troops it would seem an unsafe place. I trust they’ve got over the Sierra, and down to Acapulco. If they have, we needn’t feel so very anxious about them.”“Why not, Ysabel?”“Why not? Ah! that’s a question you haven’t yet come to understand. But never mind the reason now. You’ll know it in good time; and when you do, I’ve no fear but you’ll be satisfied; your father too.”Don Ignacio’s daughter was both puzzled and surprised at the strange words. But she knew the Countess had strange ways; and, though a bosom friend, was not without some secrets she kept to herself. This was one of them, no doubt, and she forebore pressing for an explanation.What the Condesa hinted at was that disaffection in the south, the expectedpronunciamento, which, if successful, would not only depose the Dictator, but of course also his Cabinet Ministers, her friend’s father among them. With some knowledge of coming events, she declined imparting this to the Doña Luisa through delicacy. Right was she, also, in her surmise as to the messenger; none had been intercepted, none having been sent out, just for the reason surmised by her.They had made a turn or two of the grounds, thus conversing, when both came to a sudden stop, simultaneously uttering exclamations of alarm, “Santissima!” and “Madre de Dios!”“What can it be?” gasped Doña Luisa. “Is it a man?”No wonder she should so doubtingly interrogate, since her question referred to that strange creature on the top of the wall, seeming more ape than human being.That he was human, however, was to be proved by his being gifted with the power of speech, put forth on the instant after. Before the Countess could make answer to the question (of course overheard by him), he interposed, saying—“Pray, don’t be alarmed, your ladyships, at a poor miserable creature like me. I know that my body is anything but shapely; but my soul—that, I trust, is different. But, Señoritas, surely you remember me?”While speaking, he had raised himself into an upright attitude, and the moonlight falling upon him showed his shape in all its grotesqueness of outline. This, with his words, at once recalled their having seen him before. Yes; it was theenano, whom the big Texan had swung up to the box of their carriage.Astonishment hindering reply to his interrogatory, he continued—“Well, your ladyships, I’m sorry you don’t recognise me; the more from my being one of your best friends, or, at all events, the friend of your friends.”“Of whom do you speak, sir?” asked the Countess, first to recover composure, the Doña Luisa echoing the interrogatory. Both were alike anxious for the answer, better than half divining.“Two worthy gentlemen, who, like my poor self, had the misfortune to get shut up in the Acordada; more than that, set to work in the filthy sewers. Thanks to the luck of your ladyship’s carriage coming past at a convenient time we all escaped; and so far have been successful in eluding the search that’s been made for us.”“You have succeeded—all?” both asked in a breath their eagerness throwing aside reserve.“Oh yes; as I’ve said, so far. But it’s been hard times with us in our hiding-place; so hard, indeed, we might well have wished ourselves back in the prison.”“How so, sir? Tell us all! You needn’t fear to speak out; we’ll not betray you.”“Por Dios! I’m not afraid of your ladyships doing that. Why should I, since I’m here on account of your own friends, and on an errand of mercy?”“An errand of mercy?”“Yes. And one of necessity as well. Ah! that far more.”“Go on, sir! Please tell us what it is!”“Well, Señoritas, I’ve been deputed on a foraging expedition. For we’re in a terrible strait—all four of us. You may remember there were four.”“We do. But, how in a terrible strait?”“How? Why, for want of food; starving. Up in the mountains, where we’ve been hiding for now nearly a month, all we’ve had to live upon was wild fruits and roots; often eating them raw, too. We daren’t any of us venture down, as the roads all round have been beset by spies and soldiers. It’s only in sheer desperation I’ve stolen through them; the Señor Don Ruperto sending me to San Augustin in the hope I might be able to pick up some provisions. I was just slipping the village the back way, when an alguazil coming along made it necessary for me to climb up here and hide myself. The unlucky part of it all is, that even if I get safe in, I haven’t the wherewith to buy the eatables, and must beg them. That I fear won’t be easy; people are so hard-hearted.”For a time his surprised listeners stood silent, giving way to sad reflections. Florencio and Ruperto starving!“May I hope,” continued the lying wretch, “your ladyships will let me look upon this accidental encounter as a God-send, and that you will give me something to buy—”“Oh, sir,” interrupted the Countess, “we will give you that. Luisa, have you any money in your purse? I haven’t in mine—nothing to signify.”“Nor I either—how unfortunate! We must—”“Never mind money, your ladyships; money’s worth will do quite as well. Areloja, rings, anything in the way of jewellery. I chance to know a place in the village where I can convert them into cash.”“Here, take this!” cried the Countess, handing him her watch, the same which had been hypothecated to José, but redeemed by a money payment.“And this!” said the Doña Luisa, also holding out a watch, both of which he speedily took possession of.“’Tis very generous of your ladyships,” he said, stowing them away among his rags; “the proceeds of these ought to support us for a long time, even allowing for the reduced rate I’ll have to accept from the pawnbroker. Afterwards we must do the best we can.”As he spoke, his little sparkling eyes were avariciously bent upon certain other objects he saw scintillating in the moonlight—bracelets, rings upon their fingers and in their ears. The hint was hardly needed. Enough for them the thought that more help might be required by those dear to them, and at a time when they could not extend it.In less than five minutes after both had divested themselves of every article in the way of gold or gems adorning them. They even plucked the pendants from their ears, thrusting all indiscriminately into the outstretched hands of the hunchback.“Gracias!—mil gracias!” he ejaculated, crowding everything into his pocket. “But your ladyships will scarce care to accept thanks from me. ’Twill be more to your satisfaction to know that your generosity will be the saving of valuable lives, two of them, if I mistake not, very dear to you. Oh! won’t the Señores Don Ruperto and Don Florencio be delighted at the tale I shall take back—the Virgin seeing me safe! Not for the provisions I may carry, but how I obtained the means of purchasing them. But as time’s pressing, Señorita, I won’t say a word more, onlyAdios!”Without waiting for permission to depart, or rejoinder of any kind, he slipped down from the wall, and disappeared on its other side.It was an abrupt leave-taking, which alike surprised and disappointed them. For they had many questions to ask, and intended asking him—many anxieties they wished set at rest.
It was the garden of Don Ignacio’scasa de campo; the ladies, his daughter and the Condesa. The lovely night, with balm in the air and a bright moon shining through the sky, had drawn them out, and they strolled through the grounds, keeping step, as it were, to that matchless melody, the song of theczenzontle. But note of no nightingale was in their thoughts, which were engrossed by graver themes.
“’Tis so strange our never hearing from them, and not a word of them. What do you make of it, Ysabel? Is it a bad sign?”
The question was asked by the Doña Luisa.
“That we haven’t heard from them is—in a way,” responded the Countess. “Yet that may be explained, too. The probability is, from the roads being all watched and guarded, as we know they are, they’d be cautious about communicating with us. If they’ve sent a messenger—which I hope they haven’t—he must have been intercepted and made prisoner. And then, the message; that might compromise us. But I know Ruperto will be careful. Not to have heard of them is all for the best—the very best. It should almost assure us that they’re still free, and safe somewhere. Had they been recaptured, we’d have known before this. All Mexico would be talking about it.”
“True,” assented Don Ignacio’s daughter, with a feeling of relief. “They cannot have been retaken. But I wonder where they are now.”
“So I myself, Luisita. I hope, however, not at that old monastery of which Ruperto gave me a description in one of his letters. It’s somewhere up in the mountains. But with the country all around so occupied by troops it would seem an unsafe place. I trust they’ve got over the Sierra, and down to Acapulco. If they have, we needn’t feel so very anxious about them.”
“Why not, Ysabel?”
“Why not? Ah! that’s a question you haven’t yet come to understand. But never mind the reason now. You’ll know it in good time; and when you do, I’ve no fear but you’ll be satisfied; your father too.”
Don Ignacio’s daughter was both puzzled and surprised at the strange words. But she knew the Countess had strange ways; and, though a bosom friend, was not without some secrets she kept to herself. This was one of them, no doubt, and she forebore pressing for an explanation.
What the Condesa hinted at was that disaffection in the south, the expectedpronunciamento, which, if successful, would not only depose the Dictator, but of course also his Cabinet Ministers, her friend’s father among them. With some knowledge of coming events, she declined imparting this to the Doña Luisa through delicacy. Right was she, also, in her surmise as to the messenger; none had been intercepted, none having been sent out, just for the reason surmised by her.
They had made a turn or two of the grounds, thus conversing, when both came to a sudden stop, simultaneously uttering exclamations of alarm, “Santissima!” and “Madre de Dios!”
“What can it be?” gasped Doña Luisa. “Is it a man?”
No wonder she should so doubtingly interrogate, since her question referred to that strange creature on the top of the wall, seeming more ape than human being.
That he was human, however, was to be proved by his being gifted with the power of speech, put forth on the instant after. Before the Countess could make answer to the question (of course overheard by him), he interposed, saying—
“Pray, don’t be alarmed, your ladyships, at a poor miserable creature like me. I know that my body is anything but shapely; but my soul—that, I trust, is different. But, Señoritas, surely you remember me?”
While speaking, he had raised himself into an upright attitude, and the moonlight falling upon him showed his shape in all its grotesqueness of outline. This, with his words, at once recalled their having seen him before. Yes; it was theenano, whom the big Texan had swung up to the box of their carriage.
Astonishment hindering reply to his interrogatory, he continued—
“Well, your ladyships, I’m sorry you don’t recognise me; the more from my being one of your best friends, or, at all events, the friend of your friends.”
“Of whom do you speak, sir?” asked the Countess, first to recover composure, the Doña Luisa echoing the interrogatory. Both were alike anxious for the answer, better than half divining.
“Two worthy gentlemen, who, like my poor self, had the misfortune to get shut up in the Acordada; more than that, set to work in the filthy sewers. Thanks to the luck of your ladyship’s carriage coming past at a convenient time we all escaped; and so far have been successful in eluding the search that’s been made for us.”
“You have succeeded—all?” both asked in a breath their eagerness throwing aside reserve.
“Oh yes; as I’ve said, so far. But it’s been hard times with us in our hiding-place; so hard, indeed, we might well have wished ourselves back in the prison.”
“How so, sir? Tell us all! You needn’t fear to speak out; we’ll not betray you.”
“Por Dios! I’m not afraid of your ladyships doing that. Why should I, since I’m here on account of your own friends, and on an errand of mercy?”
“An errand of mercy?”
“Yes. And one of necessity as well. Ah! that far more.”
“Go on, sir! Please tell us what it is!”
“Well, Señoritas, I’ve been deputed on a foraging expedition. For we’re in a terrible strait—all four of us. You may remember there were four.”
“We do. But, how in a terrible strait?”
“How? Why, for want of food; starving. Up in the mountains, where we’ve been hiding for now nearly a month, all we’ve had to live upon was wild fruits and roots; often eating them raw, too. We daren’t any of us venture down, as the roads all round have been beset by spies and soldiers. It’s only in sheer desperation I’ve stolen through them; the Señor Don Ruperto sending me to San Augustin in the hope I might be able to pick up some provisions. I was just slipping the village the back way, when an alguazil coming along made it necessary for me to climb up here and hide myself. The unlucky part of it all is, that even if I get safe in, I haven’t the wherewith to buy the eatables, and must beg them. That I fear won’t be easy; people are so hard-hearted.”
For a time his surprised listeners stood silent, giving way to sad reflections. Florencio and Ruperto starving!
“May I hope,” continued the lying wretch, “your ladyships will let me look upon this accidental encounter as a God-send, and that you will give me something to buy—”
“Oh, sir,” interrupted the Countess, “we will give you that. Luisa, have you any money in your purse? I haven’t in mine—nothing to signify.”
“Nor I either—how unfortunate! We must—”
“Never mind money, your ladyships; money’s worth will do quite as well. Areloja, rings, anything in the way of jewellery. I chance to know a place in the village where I can convert them into cash.”
“Here, take this!” cried the Countess, handing him her watch, the same which had been hypothecated to José, but redeemed by a money payment.
“And this!” said the Doña Luisa, also holding out a watch, both of which he speedily took possession of.
“’Tis very generous of your ladyships,” he said, stowing them away among his rags; “the proceeds of these ought to support us for a long time, even allowing for the reduced rate I’ll have to accept from the pawnbroker. Afterwards we must do the best we can.”
As he spoke, his little sparkling eyes were avariciously bent upon certain other objects he saw scintillating in the moonlight—bracelets, rings upon their fingers and in their ears. The hint was hardly needed. Enough for them the thought that more help might be required by those dear to them, and at a time when they could not extend it.
In less than five minutes after both had divested themselves of every article in the way of gold or gems adorning them. They even plucked the pendants from their ears, thrusting all indiscriminately into the outstretched hands of the hunchback.
“Gracias!—mil gracias!” he ejaculated, crowding everything into his pocket. “But your ladyships will scarce care to accept thanks from me. ’Twill be more to your satisfaction to know that your generosity will be the saving of valuable lives, two of them, if I mistake not, very dear to you. Oh! won’t the Señores Don Ruperto and Don Florencio be delighted at the tale I shall take back—the Virgin seeing me safe! Not for the provisions I may carry, but how I obtained the means of purchasing them. But as time’s pressing, Señorita, I won’t say a word more, onlyAdios!”
Without waiting for permission to depart, or rejoinder of any kind, he slipped down from the wall, and disappeared on its other side.
It was an abrupt leave-taking, which alike surprised and disappointed them. For they had many questions to ask, and intended asking him—many anxieties they wished set at rest.
Chapter Fifty.An Encounter with Old Acquaintances.Passing out of the San Augustin towards the city, the great National Road, as already said, touches upon the Pedregal, the lava rocks here and there rising cliff-like over it. On the other side are level meadows stretching to the shore of the Laguna de Xochimilco; this last overgrown with a lush aquatic vegetation called thecinta, at a distance appearing more pastureland than lake. Excellent pasturage is afforded on the strip between; that end of it adjacent to thepueblobeing apportioned among several of the rich proprietors of villas, who turn their household stock upon it, as milch kine, and horses kept for the saddle or carriage.Just about the time when the hunchback was abruptly bidding “Adios” to the ladies, a man might have been seen moving along this part of the road at some half-mile distance from the skirts of the village, with face turned cityward. But that he had no intention of journeying so far was evident both by his gait and the character of his dress. He was going at a slow walk, now and then loitering, as if time was of little consequence. Moreover, he was in his shirt sleeves, and without the universalserape, which often serves for both cloak and coat. Otherwise his garb was the ordinary stable wear of a Mexican gentleman’s servant; wide velveteen trousers open along the outer seams, and fended with leather at breech and bottoms. “Batos” and a black glaze hat completed his habiliments, with a scarf of China crape, thechammora, around his waist. Scanning the face shadowed by the broad rim of hissombrero, it was seen to be that of José, Don Ignacio’s groom; while his errand along that road could be guessed, by seeing what he carried over his arm—a couple of slip halters. The horses, for whom they were intended, were to be seen standing at a gate, a little further, having browsed their fill; a pair of greys, recognisable as the famousfrisones; all the easier now from one of them showing a split ear. They had been turned out to cool their hoofs on the soft meadow sward, and he was on his way to take them back to their stable.Along the other side of the road, for a stretch of some distance, extended the Pedregal, forming a low ridge with a precipitous face towards the causeway. As thecocherogot up to where his pets were expecting him, he saw acoyotestanding upon the crest cliff, just opposite the horses, in an attitude and with an air as if it had been holding conversation with them. Solely for frolic’s sake, he made a rush towards it, giving a swoop and swinging the halters around his head. Of course, the affrighted animal turned tail, and retreated; instantly disappearing from his sight. The little spurt had carried him in under the shadow of the rocks; and as he faced round to recross the moonlit causeway, he saw coming along it that which, by some mysterious instinct, prompted him to keep his place. After all, no mystery about it; for in the diminutive, crab-like form seen approaching, he recognised the dwarf-hunchback who had shared the box seat with him on that day never to be forgotten.Nothing had been heard of the creature since, so far as José knew; and therefore it might be supposed his appearance would have been welcome, promising some news of those with whom he had been last seen. But so far from thecocherostepping out into the road to receive him, he but drew closer to the cliff, where an embayment in black shadow promised him perfect concealment.Soon after Zorillo came shuffling along through the dust, keeping close to the shaded side of the road. Having cleared the skirts of the village, however, he was less careful now. Not likely there would be any one abroad at that hour—for it had gone ten—but if so, there was the Pedregal alongside, to which he could retreat. Evidently he had not seen José as when first seen himself he was turning a corner, and the other had been for some time in shadow.When nearly opposite the meadow gate he also made a stop, with a start, at perceiving the two horses’ heads stretched over it, one with a cleft ear! His start came through recognition of them.“Oho!” he exclaimed, “you there, too, my noblefrisones? Caspita! this is meeting one’s old acquaintances all in a heap! It now only needs to encountercochero, and the party will be complete! Well, I may live in hope to see him too, sometime; and won’t there be a reckoning when we’re all together again?”He was about to pass on, when a clattering of hoofs was heard behind, in the direction of thepueblo, as if horsemen were issuing out of it. Shortly after, a dark clump was seen rounding the corner, and coming on along the white ribband of road. The sabres clanking against stirrup-irons proclaimed it a cavalry troop.Like a tarantula retreating to its tree-cave, the dwarf darted in under the cliff, there crouching down—so close to José that the latter could have almost touched him with the tips of his fingers. He had no desire to do so, no thought of it; but the very opposite. His wish was to avoid an encounter; and good reason for it, as he was soon after made aware. Fortunately for him, the hunchback neither saw nor had a suspicion of his proximity. With face turned to the road, he was altogether occupied with the party approaching.The Hussars turned out—an escort of some eight or ten files, with two officers at its head; these riding side by side, and a little in advance. They were chatting gaily and rather vociferously; the voice of him who spoke loudest being well-known to José. For Colonel Santander, whether welcome or not, was a frequent visitor at thecasa de campoof Don Ignacio Valverde. And the dwarf now remembered it too, as he did so abandoning all attempt at concealment, and gliding out into the middle of the road.“Carajo!” simultaneously shouted the two officers, as their horses reared up, snorting at the strange shape so suddenly presented before them. “What theDemoniois it, if not Satan himself?” added Santander.“No,Señor Coronet,” returned Zorillo. “Not the devil; only a poor creature whom God has cursed by making him in a shape that isn’t altogether fashionable. But just for that reason I trust being recalled to your Excellency’s remembrance—am I not?”“Ah! You were in the Acordada?”“Si, Señor Coronet.”“And ’twas you I saw coupled to the Tejano?”“The same, Señor. In that prosecuted by a like ill, no doubt, the devil all the time directing it.”“But where have you been since, sirrah?”“Ah!Excellenza! that’s just it; the very thing I want to tell you. I was on my way to the city in hopes of obtaining an interview with you. What a bit of fortune you passing here: ’twill save me a journey I was ill able to make; for I’m quite worn out, and weak, from being starved up there in the mountains.”“Oh! you’ve been up there?”“Yes, Señor Coronel, in hiding with the others. But not like them voluntarily. They took me along with them, whether I would or no, and have kept me ever since—till this night, when an opportunity offered for giving them the slip. It isn’t all of four hours since I parted company with them. But if your Excellency wishes to hear the whole story, perhaps you’d like it better in private. If I mistake not, some of it should only reach your own ears.”Santander had been already thinking of this, and turning to the officer by his side, he said—“Take the men on, Ramirez. Halt at a hundred yards or so, and wait for me.”In obedience to the order the escort moved on, stopping as directed, the dialogue between Santander and the dwarf meanwhile continuing. It was more of a monologue, the latter giving a detailed relation of all that had occurred to him since the time of their escape from the chain-gang, with comments and suggestions added.After hearing all, Santander rose in his stirrups, his features showing triumph, such as Satan might feel at a world of souls just delivered to him.“The game is mine at last!” he muttered to himself, “every trick of it. They’re in a trap now; and when they go out of it, ’twill be to thegarrota.”For a moment he sat silent, apparently considering what was his best course to pursue. Then, seemingly having decided, he called out—“Ramirez! Send a couple of men to me—the corporal and another.”These, detached from the escort, came trotting back along the road.“Here,cabo! Take charge of this curious specimen. Keep him here, and see that you hold him safe till you have my orders for releasing him. Don’t stray from this spot as you value your own neck—not an inch.”Saying which he put spurs to his horse, and rejoined his escort. Then commanding, “Forward! at the double quick!” they started off at full gallop towards the city.
Passing out of the San Augustin towards the city, the great National Road, as already said, touches upon the Pedregal, the lava rocks here and there rising cliff-like over it. On the other side are level meadows stretching to the shore of the Laguna de Xochimilco; this last overgrown with a lush aquatic vegetation called thecinta, at a distance appearing more pastureland than lake. Excellent pasturage is afforded on the strip between; that end of it adjacent to thepueblobeing apportioned among several of the rich proprietors of villas, who turn their household stock upon it, as milch kine, and horses kept for the saddle or carriage.
Just about the time when the hunchback was abruptly bidding “Adios” to the ladies, a man might have been seen moving along this part of the road at some half-mile distance from the skirts of the village, with face turned cityward. But that he had no intention of journeying so far was evident both by his gait and the character of his dress. He was going at a slow walk, now and then loitering, as if time was of little consequence. Moreover, he was in his shirt sleeves, and without the universalserape, which often serves for both cloak and coat. Otherwise his garb was the ordinary stable wear of a Mexican gentleman’s servant; wide velveteen trousers open along the outer seams, and fended with leather at breech and bottoms. “Batos” and a black glaze hat completed his habiliments, with a scarf of China crape, thechammora, around his waist. Scanning the face shadowed by the broad rim of hissombrero, it was seen to be that of José, Don Ignacio’s groom; while his errand along that road could be guessed, by seeing what he carried over his arm—a couple of slip halters. The horses, for whom they were intended, were to be seen standing at a gate, a little further, having browsed their fill; a pair of greys, recognisable as the famousfrisones; all the easier now from one of them showing a split ear. They had been turned out to cool their hoofs on the soft meadow sward, and he was on his way to take them back to their stable.
Along the other side of the road, for a stretch of some distance, extended the Pedregal, forming a low ridge with a precipitous face towards the causeway. As thecocherogot up to where his pets were expecting him, he saw acoyotestanding upon the crest cliff, just opposite the horses, in an attitude and with an air as if it had been holding conversation with them. Solely for frolic’s sake, he made a rush towards it, giving a swoop and swinging the halters around his head. Of course, the affrighted animal turned tail, and retreated; instantly disappearing from his sight. The little spurt had carried him in under the shadow of the rocks; and as he faced round to recross the moonlit causeway, he saw coming along it that which, by some mysterious instinct, prompted him to keep his place. After all, no mystery about it; for in the diminutive, crab-like form seen approaching, he recognised the dwarf-hunchback who had shared the box seat with him on that day never to be forgotten.
Nothing had been heard of the creature since, so far as José knew; and therefore it might be supposed his appearance would have been welcome, promising some news of those with whom he had been last seen. But so far from thecocherostepping out into the road to receive him, he but drew closer to the cliff, where an embayment in black shadow promised him perfect concealment.
Soon after Zorillo came shuffling along through the dust, keeping close to the shaded side of the road. Having cleared the skirts of the village, however, he was less careful now. Not likely there would be any one abroad at that hour—for it had gone ten—but if so, there was the Pedregal alongside, to which he could retreat. Evidently he had not seen José as when first seen himself he was turning a corner, and the other had been for some time in shadow.
When nearly opposite the meadow gate he also made a stop, with a start, at perceiving the two horses’ heads stretched over it, one with a cleft ear! His start came through recognition of them.
“Oho!” he exclaimed, “you there, too, my noblefrisones? Caspita! this is meeting one’s old acquaintances all in a heap! It now only needs to encountercochero, and the party will be complete! Well, I may live in hope to see him too, sometime; and won’t there be a reckoning when we’re all together again?”
He was about to pass on, when a clattering of hoofs was heard behind, in the direction of thepueblo, as if horsemen were issuing out of it. Shortly after, a dark clump was seen rounding the corner, and coming on along the white ribband of road. The sabres clanking against stirrup-irons proclaimed it a cavalry troop.
Like a tarantula retreating to its tree-cave, the dwarf darted in under the cliff, there crouching down—so close to José that the latter could have almost touched him with the tips of his fingers. He had no desire to do so, no thought of it; but the very opposite. His wish was to avoid an encounter; and good reason for it, as he was soon after made aware. Fortunately for him, the hunchback neither saw nor had a suspicion of his proximity. With face turned to the road, he was altogether occupied with the party approaching.
The Hussars turned out—an escort of some eight or ten files, with two officers at its head; these riding side by side, and a little in advance. They were chatting gaily and rather vociferously; the voice of him who spoke loudest being well-known to José. For Colonel Santander, whether welcome or not, was a frequent visitor at thecasa de campoof Don Ignacio Valverde. And the dwarf now remembered it too, as he did so abandoning all attempt at concealment, and gliding out into the middle of the road.
“Carajo!” simultaneously shouted the two officers, as their horses reared up, snorting at the strange shape so suddenly presented before them. “What theDemoniois it, if not Satan himself?” added Santander.
“No,Señor Coronet,” returned Zorillo. “Not the devil; only a poor creature whom God has cursed by making him in a shape that isn’t altogether fashionable. But just for that reason I trust being recalled to your Excellency’s remembrance—am I not?”
“Ah! You were in the Acordada?”
“Si, Señor Coronet.”
“And ’twas you I saw coupled to the Tejano?”
“The same, Señor. In that prosecuted by a like ill, no doubt, the devil all the time directing it.”
“But where have you been since, sirrah?”
“Ah!Excellenza! that’s just it; the very thing I want to tell you. I was on my way to the city in hopes of obtaining an interview with you. What a bit of fortune you passing here: ’twill save me a journey I was ill able to make; for I’m quite worn out, and weak, from being starved up there in the mountains.”
“Oh! you’ve been up there?”
“Yes, Señor Coronel, in hiding with the others. But not like them voluntarily. They took me along with them, whether I would or no, and have kept me ever since—till this night, when an opportunity offered for giving them the slip. It isn’t all of four hours since I parted company with them. But if your Excellency wishes to hear the whole story, perhaps you’d like it better in private. If I mistake not, some of it should only reach your own ears.”
Santander had been already thinking of this, and turning to the officer by his side, he said—
“Take the men on, Ramirez. Halt at a hundred yards or so, and wait for me.”
In obedience to the order the escort moved on, stopping as directed, the dialogue between Santander and the dwarf meanwhile continuing. It was more of a monologue, the latter giving a detailed relation of all that had occurred to him since the time of their escape from the chain-gang, with comments and suggestions added.
After hearing all, Santander rose in his stirrups, his features showing triumph, such as Satan might feel at a world of souls just delivered to him.
“The game is mine at last!” he muttered to himself, “every trick of it. They’re in a trap now; and when they go out of it, ’twill be to thegarrota.”
For a moment he sat silent, apparently considering what was his best course to pursue. Then, seemingly having decided, he called out—
“Ramirez! Send a couple of men to me—the corporal and another.”
These, detached from the escort, came trotting back along the road.
“Here,cabo! Take charge of this curious specimen. Keep him here, and see that you hold him safe till you have my orders for releasing him. Don’t stray from this spot as you value your own neck—not an inch.”
Saying which he put spurs to his horse, and rejoined his escort. Then commanding, “Forward! at the double quick!” they started off at full gallop towards the city.
Chapter Fifty One.A Grumbling Guard.Part of the dialogue between Santander and the hunchback was overheard by José—enough of it to give him the trembles. Among its revelations was nought relating to himself, or his connivance at the escape of the prisoners. For all, he could see that he was now in as much danger as they who were in hiding. The Colonel of Hussars had gone on to the city, perhaps to complete some duty already engaging him, but as likely to obtain a stronger force. And as his words told, he would return again; and no doubt make direct for the old monastery, the dwarf guiding him.The first thought of the faithfulcocherowas not about himself, nor his horses. These might stay in the meadow all night, as they were now likely to do. The lives of men were at stake—his own among the number—and his sole purpose now was to get home, report what he had heard to his young mistress and the Condesa; then hasten up the mountain to warn the imperilled ones. As good luck would have it, he knew the place they were in. Son of acarbonero, when a boy he had helped his father in the charcoal-burning business; was familiar with the mountain forests, and their paths, and had more than once been at the abandoned monastery. He could easily find the way to it. But the difficulty was to get back to his master’s house—even stir from the spot on which he stood. Soon as receiving their orders the two Hussars had dismounted, and tied up their horses, one on each side of the rocky embayment; they themselves, with their curious charge, occupying the space between. It was not possible to pass without being seen by them, and as surely seized.So long as he kept his place he might feel comparatively safe. The cove was of a three-cornered shape, with luckily a deep dark cleft at its inner angle, into which he had already squeezed himself. While the moon remained low, and the cliff made shadow, there was little likelihood of their seeing him, unless they came close up. Still, the situation was aught but pleasant, and ere long became irksome in the extreme; the conversation to which he was compelled to listen making it so.The twoHusaresdid not seem, to be in the best of temper; the corporal more especially showing signs of dissatisfaction. Groping about for a stone to seat himself on, he grumbled out—“Maddita! What a bore, having to stay here till they get back. Heaven knows when that will be. Like enough not before morning. I thought we were going to pass the night in San Augustin, and had hopes of a chat with thatmuchachitaat the house where the colonel visits.”“Pepita, you mean—lady’s maid to the Doña Luisa Valverde?”“Of course I mean her, the pretty dear; and have reason to think she is a bit sweet upon me.”Josh’s heart was on fire—his blood boiling. It was with difficulty he restrained himself from springing out upon the soldier and clutching him by the throat. He succeeded, however, in keeping his place, if not his temper; for it would have been sheer madness to show himself there and then. What came after quite tranquillised him.“Well,cabo” returned he of the rank and file, seemingly without fear of speaking plain to the non-commissioned officer, “I should be sorry to dash your hopes; but as a friend I can’t help saying I don’t think you have much chance in that quarter. She’s a step higher, that same Pepita; holds her head far above any of us common soldiers—”“Common soldiers! I’m a corporal; you forget that,hombre. But why do you think my chances are so poor?”“Because I’ve heard say there’s a man about the establishment to whom she’s already given what heart she may have had to give—that they’re engaged. The fellow’s groom orcochero, or something of the sort.”José breathed easier now, noways provoked at having been spoken of as a “fellow.”“Bah!” contemptuously exclaimed the corporal. “What care I for that horse-cleaner and carriage-washer for a rival! I’ve cut out scores of such before now, and will do the same with him. Lie down there, you devil’s imp!” he added, turning savagely upon the dwarf, and venting his spleen by giving the creature a kick. “Down, or I’ll break every bone in your body.”“Mercy, master!” expostulated the hunchback. “Don’t be so cruel to a fellow-creature.”“Fellow-creature! That’s good, ha, ha, ha!” And the brute broke out into a hoarse laugh, till the rocks echoed his fiendish cachinnation.“Well, your worship,” rejoined he thus inhumanly mocked, with an air of assumed meekness; “whatever I am, it pains me to think I should be the cause of keeping you here. But why should you stay, may I ask? You don’t suppose I’m going to run away? If I were with you as a prisoner—but I am not. I sought an interview with your Colonel of my own free will. Surely you saw that!”“True enough, he did,” interposed the soldier.“And what if he did?” growled the corporal.“Only, Señor, to show that I have no intention to part company with you, nor wish neither.Por Dios! don’t let me hinder you from having that chat with themuchachita. It’s but a step back to thepueblo, and like as not she’ll be on the lookout for you, spite of what your comrade says. Maybe he has an eye to the pretty dear himself, and that’s why he wishes to discourage you.”As this rigmarole was delivered in the most comical manner, it put the soldiers in a better humour, both breaking out into laughter.Of course the corporal had no thought of availing himself of the permission so accorded. Their orders were strict to stay in that spot, and stay they must. The question was, how were they to spend the time. A smoke to begin with; and they drew out their cigarritos, with flint, steel, and tinder.Soon as the red coal appeared beneath their noses, said thecaboto his comrade—“By the way, Perico, have you your cards with you?”“Did you ever know me to be without them?”“How lucky! I quite forgot mine.”“That’s because your mind was bent upon Pepita. I saw you giving your moustache an extra twist this evening.”“Oh! bother Pepita. Let’s have analburof monté.”“How about light?”“The moon’s clear enough, if it wasn’t we could manage with our cigars. Many’s the game I’ve played that way.”“All right! But the stakes? I haven’t acuartilla—nay, not so much as aclaco.”“Carramba! Nor I either. I spent the last on a drink just before we got into the saddle. It’s bad; but we can bet upon the credit system, and use cartridges for counters.”“Ah, stay!”At which he turned his eyes upon the dwarf with a look of peculiar significance, cupidity the prevailing expression.The latter saw it with a heaviness of heart, and a shuddering throughout his frame. All the time apprehensive about the plunder with which his pockets were crammed, he instinctively anticipated what was coming.
Part of the dialogue between Santander and the hunchback was overheard by José—enough of it to give him the trembles. Among its revelations was nought relating to himself, or his connivance at the escape of the prisoners. For all, he could see that he was now in as much danger as they who were in hiding. The Colonel of Hussars had gone on to the city, perhaps to complete some duty already engaging him, but as likely to obtain a stronger force. And as his words told, he would return again; and no doubt make direct for the old monastery, the dwarf guiding him.
The first thought of the faithfulcocherowas not about himself, nor his horses. These might stay in the meadow all night, as they were now likely to do. The lives of men were at stake—his own among the number—and his sole purpose now was to get home, report what he had heard to his young mistress and the Condesa; then hasten up the mountain to warn the imperilled ones. As good luck would have it, he knew the place they were in. Son of acarbonero, when a boy he had helped his father in the charcoal-burning business; was familiar with the mountain forests, and their paths, and had more than once been at the abandoned monastery. He could easily find the way to it. But the difficulty was to get back to his master’s house—even stir from the spot on which he stood. Soon as receiving their orders the two Hussars had dismounted, and tied up their horses, one on each side of the rocky embayment; they themselves, with their curious charge, occupying the space between. It was not possible to pass without being seen by them, and as surely seized.
So long as he kept his place he might feel comparatively safe. The cove was of a three-cornered shape, with luckily a deep dark cleft at its inner angle, into which he had already squeezed himself. While the moon remained low, and the cliff made shadow, there was little likelihood of their seeing him, unless they came close up. Still, the situation was aught but pleasant, and ere long became irksome in the extreme; the conversation to which he was compelled to listen making it so.
The twoHusaresdid not seem, to be in the best of temper; the corporal more especially showing signs of dissatisfaction. Groping about for a stone to seat himself on, he grumbled out—
“Maddita! What a bore, having to stay here till they get back. Heaven knows when that will be. Like enough not before morning. I thought we were going to pass the night in San Augustin, and had hopes of a chat with thatmuchachitaat the house where the colonel visits.”
“Pepita, you mean—lady’s maid to the Doña Luisa Valverde?”
“Of course I mean her, the pretty dear; and have reason to think she is a bit sweet upon me.”
Josh’s heart was on fire—his blood boiling. It was with difficulty he restrained himself from springing out upon the soldier and clutching him by the throat. He succeeded, however, in keeping his place, if not his temper; for it would have been sheer madness to show himself there and then. What came after quite tranquillised him.
“Well,cabo” returned he of the rank and file, seemingly without fear of speaking plain to the non-commissioned officer, “I should be sorry to dash your hopes; but as a friend I can’t help saying I don’t think you have much chance in that quarter. She’s a step higher, that same Pepita; holds her head far above any of us common soldiers—”
“Common soldiers! I’m a corporal; you forget that,hombre. But why do you think my chances are so poor?”
“Because I’ve heard say there’s a man about the establishment to whom she’s already given what heart she may have had to give—that they’re engaged. The fellow’s groom orcochero, or something of the sort.”
José breathed easier now, noways provoked at having been spoken of as a “fellow.”
“Bah!” contemptuously exclaimed the corporal. “What care I for that horse-cleaner and carriage-washer for a rival! I’ve cut out scores of such before now, and will do the same with him. Lie down there, you devil’s imp!” he added, turning savagely upon the dwarf, and venting his spleen by giving the creature a kick. “Down, or I’ll break every bone in your body.”
“Mercy, master!” expostulated the hunchback. “Don’t be so cruel to a fellow-creature.”
“Fellow-creature! That’s good, ha, ha, ha!” And the brute broke out into a hoarse laugh, till the rocks echoed his fiendish cachinnation.
“Well, your worship,” rejoined he thus inhumanly mocked, with an air of assumed meekness; “whatever I am, it pains me to think I should be the cause of keeping you here. But why should you stay, may I ask? You don’t suppose I’m going to run away? If I were with you as a prisoner—but I am not. I sought an interview with your Colonel of my own free will. Surely you saw that!”
“True enough, he did,” interposed the soldier.
“And what if he did?” growled the corporal.
“Only, Señor, to show that I have no intention to part company with you, nor wish neither.Por Dios! don’t let me hinder you from having that chat with themuchachita. It’s but a step back to thepueblo, and like as not she’ll be on the lookout for you, spite of what your comrade says. Maybe he has an eye to the pretty dear himself, and that’s why he wishes to discourage you.”
As this rigmarole was delivered in the most comical manner, it put the soldiers in a better humour, both breaking out into laughter.
Of course the corporal had no thought of availing himself of the permission so accorded. Their orders were strict to stay in that spot, and stay they must. The question was, how were they to spend the time. A smoke to begin with; and they drew out their cigarritos, with flint, steel, and tinder.
Soon as the red coal appeared beneath their noses, said thecaboto his comrade—
“By the way, Perico, have you your cards with you?”
“Did you ever know me to be without them?”
“How lucky! I quite forgot mine.”
“That’s because your mind was bent upon Pepita. I saw you giving your moustache an extra twist this evening.”
“Oh! bother Pepita. Let’s have analburof monté.”
“How about light?”
“The moon’s clear enough, if it wasn’t we could manage with our cigars. Many’s the game I’ve played that way.”
“All right! But the stakes? I haven’t acuartilla—nay, not so much as aclaco.”
“Carramba! Nor I either. I spent the last on a drink just before we got into the saddle. It’s bad; but we can bet upon the credit system, and use cartridges for counters.”
“Ah, stay!”
At which he turned his eyes upon the dwarf with a look of peculiar significance, cupidity the prevailing expression.
The latter saw it with a heaviness of heart, and a shuddering throughout his frame. All the time apprehensive about the plunder with which his pockets were crammed, he instinctively anticipated what was coming.