The sun set and twilight ensued, but for a brief space. The moon was near its full, and arose nearly as soon as its more brilliant brother had disappeared, and in that clear atmosphere its light rendered objects with nearly the distinctness of noon-day.
In perhaps an hour after sunset the party halted for supper, there fortunately being enough stowed behind the coach in a hamper for a tolerable meal. Then for the first time Marcos Sayosa heard the cause of the journey and residence of the party he had been so fortunate in rescuing.
They had been on a visit to some friends at the city of Mexico for a couple of weeks, and had got thus far upon their return home, intending to pause for the night at Guanajuato, when they were attacked by theMelladios, who had ambushed themselves in a shallow ditch, being part of the band repulsed by Marcos on the edge of the town, as already detailed.
Marcos seemed wonderfully attracted by Dona Luisa, while she, in return, appeared to feel the same influence, although much less plainly shown. Still, it did not escape the notice of her mother and Felipe. The latter especially seemed ill at ease, and hovered close to his sister, acting more like a lover than the relation he held toward her. But he heard nothing at which he could take offense; every word spoken by Marcos was respectful, almost reverential; but his tones evinced his sincerity, telling that if not in love, he was not very far from that most delightful state.
After an hour’s rest the company again started, intending to travel the greater part of the night. The wind had died away, and as the night was warm and pleasant, the carriage windows were let down, and a desultory conversation was kept up by the four persons. During it Sayosa received a cordial invitation to pay the Canelos’haciendaa visit, so warmly pressed that when Luisa added her soft voice, he accepted it, though not without some inward misgivings as tothe wiseness of throwing himself in the way of temptation, when presented in such a bewitching form as Luisa Canelo. He knew too well that it would be presumptuous in him to think of her for his bride, and would not that be the result?
Toward morning they again halted, and at daybreak Sayosa and his followers took their leave, as now there could be no further danger, and that day would see them safe at thehacienda. The men were not allowed to depart without a liberal reward from Felipe, and probably not one regretted the duty that had been forced upon them.
The party separated, Marcos riding off by himself on a course that would carry him considerably to the left of Guanajuato. He rode slowly along, little heeding what course he took, with his mind in utter confusion. The sentences that he muttered from time to time told the subjects of his thoughts. They were of Luisa Canelo andlove. He pshawed and pished at the idea of being in love with her, but this very fact showed that there was some foundation for the surmise.
“Bah! what a fool I am getting to be,” he exclaimed, impatiently, “thinking of her in this way! As if she would look at me in my station, except as one who had done her a slight service! I half expected they would offer me gold, to pay me for my trouble. But, they did not; perhaps they understood me too well. And then—am I not pledged? Yes, and to one who can compare favorably with even the proud Senorita Canelo—my Carlita! I love her; surely I do, and yet—bah, I am a fool, and worse!” he muttered, as tightening the reins, he applied his spurs, and galloped swiftly over the prairie.
With but a short pause at noon to allow his horse necessary rest, he rode rapidly until late in the afternoon, passing Guanajuato, and finally reached a small stream that ran through a group of trees. Dismounting, he led the animal along a narrow path, with the relieved air of a man who was at his journey’s end. Suddenly he paused.
A shrill, piercing shriek rung out upon the still air, closely followed by another; then came the hoarse tones of a man.
Relinquishing the bridle and drawing a pistol, Marcos sprung forward toward the point from whence the alarmsounded. He knew full well the owner of the first voice, and a cold, chilling hand seemed grasping his heart, as he thought of her danger—she to whom he had given his first love and pledged his hand—Carlita.
Running through the undergrowth, regardless of the thorns that lacerated his flesh, he plunged into a little glade. Two forms met his gaze—a man and a woman, or rather a young girl. She was struggling wildly in his grasp, with her face toward the point where approached the young miner, and as she caught sight of him, cried out imploringly:
“Save me, Marcos; save me for the love of our Virgin!”
Sayosa dared not fire, for fear of hitting the maiden, and leaped forward with an angry howl of rage. But the maiden’s call had alarmed the man, and as he saw Marcos, he dropped the girl, and with one leap was hidden in the undergrowth, closed followed by a bullet from the young miner’s pistol.
For a moment Marcos hesitated, but then the sight of the pale, motionless Carlita, who lay where she had fallen, decided him, and dropping to his knees beside her, he pressed his hand to her heart. With a fervent shout of joy he felt it flutter, and knew that she had only fainted. Quickly filling hissombrerowith the clear, sparkling water, he plentifully sprinkled her face with it, and in a few moments she opened her eyes, to his great joy.
“Where is he—that fearful man? Oh, Marcos, is it you? I am so glad!” murmured Carlita, as she closed her eyes again, and nestled still to his breast.
“Do not think of it,mi alma,” returned Marcos, pressing a kiss upon her damp brow. “He is gone and will trouble you no more. But that I could not leave you then, he would be food for thecoyotesandzopilatesbefore now.”
“Ah, no, Marcos, he is a terrible man. Promise me you will not seek him; he would kill you!” shuddered Carlita.
“Do you know him, darling? Tell me how it happened.”
“But you will not fight him? Remember, you are all I have to love now upon earth, excepting poor father.”
“Well, never mind now,” said Marcos, “but tell me how he came to molest you.”
“It is not the first time he has met me, but never beforedid he venture to touch me, although he said horrible, dreadful things,” murmured the girl, hiding her face and sobbing.
“But his name?” repeated Sayosa, a little sternly.
“I do not know it, but I saw him first at the fandango last month. You remember? He came up and spoke to you.”
“Ha, I suspected it!” exclaimed the young miner. “Was there no mark by which you would know him; on his face, I mean?”
“Yes; a small, dark-blue spot just over his eye—the left, I think.”
“Go on; tell me all. It is as I thought; and I spared his life, the cursed hound!” gritted Sayosa.
“He met me first about two weeks after that, and spoke in a way that frightened me; as if he—loved me—”
“And you never told me?” demanded the miner, a little sternly.
“Pardon me, Marcos; I was afraid. You know how brave you are, and I thought if you knew, you might get hurt,” pleaded Carlita. Then, as he did not speak, she continued more rapidly: “Once afterward I saw him, and he spoke the same, but I left him without an answer. Then to-day I was walking along thearroyo, wondering why you did not come, when he suddenly stepped before me, and as I turned to run, he frightened me so, he caught hold of my arm and held me fast. Then he said something worse than all, that I thought would kill me, and as I screamed he caught me in his arms and tried to drag me away, when you came.”
“I understand; but, Carlita, darling, you did very wrong in not telling me when he first insulted you, and then this would not have happened. He is a dissolute, unprincipled villain, and I shudder at what might have been your fate if I had not arrived as I did,” chided Sayosa. “But come, let us go to the house. Istio Tomasat home?”
“No. He went away just before noon, but he should be back by this time,” and then they crossed thearroyoon a foot-bridge, of a tree that had been felled over to span the little stream, and approached the house, or ratherjacale, for it was no better.
Its walls were composed of the split trunks of the arborescent yucca, set stockade fashion in the ground, while its roofwas a thatch furnished by the long, bayonet-shaped leaves of the same gigantic lily. The interstices between the uprights, instead of being “chinked” with clay, as is common among the lower class of peasants, was wattled with a species of heavy grass or reed.
The form of a man, old and enfeebled from age and sickness, sat upon a rude stool just within the doorway, smoking a pipe, slowly ejecting the fragrant vapor through his thin nostrils, his head leaning against the side of the door, with closed eyes and a faint smile of intense enjoyment playing around his mouth that told plainly he was a lover of the narcotic weed.
If looks were a criterion, he was already past the age allotted to man. His face was one mass of wrinkles; the hair was white as snow, and made but a thin, narrow fringe around his crown, like the shaven poll of a monk. He had been very tall, but now his form was like a bent bow, the chin resting upon his chest, giving him the appearance of being humpbacked. Such was Tomas Ventura, better known astio, or uncle Tomas.
The wolf-like dog that lay at his feet leaped up and ran to welcome the young couple, arousing the old man, who, when he saw what was the cause, signified his pleasure by rubbing his bony hands together and calling out in a shrill, cracked voice:
“Ah, Marcos, my son, you are as welcome as the first drop of rain. But where have you been so long? and see, the boy is hurt! Look at the blood. Is it bad, Marcos, is it bad?”
“A few scratches,tioTomas, nothing more,” was the hasty reply, for he noted the sudden start of alarm given by Carlita, who had been so excited by the adventure she had met with, that she did not notice he had been wounded before.
“But how was it, child, how did it happen? In a duel?” persisted Ventura, with the curiosity of old age.
“No,” hesitated Marcos, for it was partially from that cause, as the reader knows, but he did not wish Carlita to learn of that just at present; “it was with theMelladios. They attacked us of the Scarlet Shoulders night before last.”
“Ah, the accursed dogs! But you beat them; say that you beat the cowardlyladrones!” eagerly cried the old man.
“Ay, that we did!” laughed Sayosa, “and so thoroughly that they will rest satisfied for a year to come. But, dear Carlita, you must change your clothes. It is getting chilly,” he added, as they entered the house.
“Santissima Virgin, she is all wet! Did you fall into thearroyo, nina?” anxiously queried Ventura, for the first time noting the condition of his daughter.
“No, not that, uncle, but worse,” returned Marcos. “Come out of doors and I will tell you all.”
In a few words he narrated the insult given by Estevan Despierto, the duel, and then his dastardly conduct to Carlita, with the assault from which she had just been delivered; for, from the peculiarity mentioned by Carlita, he had recognized Despierto as the villain. The blue spot, left by a pistol-shot that had been discharged so close to his face that the burnt powder had penetrated the skin, was an indelible brand.
“Madre de Soledad!and I so near!” murmured the father. “So near, and not know of my child’s danger! But he did not—you saved her from all harm?”
“Excepting a bad affright.”
“Thank God it was you. But listen. My Carlita is beautiful and good—even a father may say that—and she loves you, better far than life itself. And you—can you, do you love her?” anxiously asked Ventura.
“Yes; I do, Iwilllove her, best of all!” exclaimed Marcos, but there was a remonstrance at his heart; the bright, beautiful face of Luisa Canelo was there, and seemed to reproach him for the words.
“I hoped so—Iknewso; and I am glad. I am an old man, Marcos, and, as you know, very poor. But you saved my daughter; she who looks at me with her mother’s eyes, and I shall not forget it. Listen. I can not live much longer; I feel that I must soon die, although it is sorrow and care—remorse, not age, that has made me what I am. I am not much over fifty years of age, but I look nearer a hundred. You wonder, but it is true. And when I die—after I am dead, you will be rich. Yes, rich as a prince—a prince, Marcos!”
“Never mind that now, uncle; we will talk it over some other time. Let us return to thejacale,” soothingly replied Sayosa, as he took the old man’s arm, thinking that the tale of Carlita’s peril had shocked his brain; for the neighbors all called him “crazy Ventura,” and the youth partially shared their belief that the old man was of unsound mind.
“No, no, Marcos, my son, you are wrong,” said Ventura. “I am not wandering; my brain is not crazed. Although the blessed Virgin knows that I have endured enough to make me so. I am speaking the truth when I say that if you marry Carlita, after I am gone, you will be wealthy; with gold that you could not count in a lifetime, and lands where you may gallop all day long, in a straight line, without touching an inch of ground that does not call you master.”
“Well, let us go to the house, for I am fearfully hungry. I have not eaten a mouthful of food since last night,” lightly returned Sayosa.
“Por Dios, is it so? Then come, hasten; my poor boy, you must be starving,” cried Ventura, and the two men were soon eating a hearty meal, prepared by the little brown hands of Carlita.
She was a tiny, fairy-like creature, but with an admirably modeled form, of exquisite grace and beauty. She had the large, lustrous black eyes that are seen only to perfection in Mexico, but more especially in the valley of Jalapa. Her hair was worn rather short, curling in masses around her small head and graceful neck, glossy as the plumage of a raven, and with the same blue-black sheen. Her arms, hand, tiny-slippered foot and trim ankle were matchless even among the ones to whom such charms are hereditary. And although so young in years, but little past herbuen quince(beautiful fifteen), she was a fully-developed woman. Those years passed under the sun of a Southern sky are what two or three and twenty are in our temperate climate.
Her father had appeared at their present situation when she was yet an infant, and although, from the great contrast between the two, it was hinted they were not of such close relationship, yet he was her father.
With them had come a boy, Marcos Sayosa, who had been taught to call the one uncle and the other cousin. But whenhe grew older and began to ask about his parents, Tomas Ventura told him that he was not a nephew, or, indeed, any relation whatever. That a man and woman had come to his house, asking shelter, where he had been born. The father was badly wounded in the conflict with banditti in which they had lost their all, excepting the clothes they wore, and had managed to escape and wander to his hut. The man died of his wounds, and after Marcos’ birth his mother sunk rapidly from grief for her husband, and on the third day she also died. They were buried side by side, and Ventura determined to adopt the child, calling it after its father’s name, and had done so, rearing him as though he was of his own flesh and blood, although it was a constant struggle with him to obtain food for the mouths of those dependent upon him.
This was the story that Marcos had heard. Who or what his parents were he could not learn. They had been robbed of every thing—not even a scrap of paper was to be found—and in their woful condition Ventura had not ventured to question them; and no clue, excepting the one name, was dropped from their lips.
With this Sayosa was forced to be content, and as his years increased, he learned to love the sweet Carlita, and she him. They were pledged to each other, and until the hour in which he met Luisa Canelo, he had thoughts for none other. But now he was bewildered, and knew not what to do. Although he declared to himself that he loved Carlita, and her only, his thoughts would wander to Luisa, and her image was far oftener present to his mind than he would have cared to admit.
“Well, Pepe, what is it?” a little impatiently asked Felipe Canelo, as avaqueropaused at the entrance of the little arbor within which he was seated with Luisa.
“Un papelaio, mi amo,” respectfully answered Pepe, as he presented a folded note to the young man, and then resumed his former position as it was being perused.
Luisa’s eyes were fixed upon her brother’s face, and the change in it was so sudden and strange, that she could not suppress an exclamation of alarm. His face blanched to an ashen white, and his form shook as though he had an ague-fit, while there was a wild, half-crazed glare in his eyes, that frightened her, she scarce knew why. But the sound of her voice recalled Felipe to his senses, and with an effort he regained his composure sufficiently to speak coherently.
“It is nothing, Luisa, darling. It is from an old friend that I thought was dead, and the unexpected sight of his name shocked me; that is all,” he muttered, as stooping, he pressed a kiss upon her cheek. “But, Pepe, where is the gentleman who gave you this; I must see him,” he added, as he saw that thevaquerostill stood at the door.
“He awaits you at the first clump ofmagueyson thearroyo maduro,senor, just below the ford. I met him there and he asked me to give youel papelaio. But pardon, master, shall I not go with you? He is a wild, rough-looking person, more like asalteadorthan an honest man,” urged thevaquero.
“No, Pepe; he means no mischief, and even if he did, it is not one man who would get the better of me,” laughed Felipe, but it was in a constrained manner. “Go now, and saddle Peralta, and fasten him at the gate. I will be there in five minutes. Come, Luisa, let us return to the house,” he added, taking her arm and leaving the arbor.
“Felipe—brother, do not go to that man. I know that something dreadful will happen if you do,” pleaded Luisa.
“But Imustgo, or he would come here, and—”
“But that would be better; then where there were so many around, he would not harm you,” interrupted the maiden, eagerly.
“Not for the world would—I mean it would not be pleasant, sister; at least, just at present,” stammered Felipe. “And there is no danger. Besides, I shall go armed. So say no more about it, and when I come back we will laugh heartily over your foolish fancies,” he added, lightly.
Luisa said no more, for she saw that he was determined to go, and in a few moments he was in the saddle, well armed, and galloping swiftly toward the point designated. As he rode up, he uttered the shrill, thrilling whistle of the red-tailedhawk, and in a few moments the signal was answered from the grove ofmoquet, and a horseman rode from out among the underbrush that surrounded the tall plants.
He was a tall, stalwart man, with features regular enough, but upon them was the brand of crime and fearful passion. Pepe, thevaquero, had spoken truly when he described the stranger as a “wild, rough-looking man.” He was such a man as one would instinctively shun if in a lone place, and feel more at ease when he was out of sight.
The two men, so dissimilar in appearance, were soon deeply engaged in consultation, and did not notice that there was an intruder near them, and one, too, that was listening eagerly to their every word, his countenance betraying the intense interest it occasioned him. He was concealed behind a dense stunted bush, or ratherina little clump, not more than a score of feet distant, with his eye at one opening and ear at another, carefully parting the leaves with his hands, so as to hear everything, while the slightly-fluttering leaves fully screened his face from view.
That it was a secret topic they were discussing was plainly evidenced by the continual glances that were cast around them, as if to guard against espial or interruption, but they were directed beyond where the spy was crouched. Perhaps an hour afterward the two men separated, Felipe riding homeward slowly, the stranger galloping rapidly off toward Guanajuato.
When they moved out of sight the spy arose, and looking toward the point where the latter had disappeared, clenched his fist and shook it vindictively, hissing between his closed teeth as he did so.
“Beware, Senor Don Lopez Romulo. I know you now, and your precious secret! And I will foil you, so sure as the sun shines; yes, and test mycuchilloon your ribs before many days.Santissima Virgin!can it be true?” he added, in a changed voice, as he sat down again, and resting his head upon his hand, sunk into a deep fit of musing that lasted until the sun had set.
“Yes, that will do, I think. At least I will try. But Don Felipe?Sangre de Christo!it must be so; else they would not have been so cautious. Poor Senora Canelo!” he muttered,as he strode rapidly toward thehacienda, taking a roundabout course, so as to enter it upon the opposite side from that whence Felipe had ridden.
It was at an early hour of the night of the succeeding day to that on which Felipe had met his strange visitor, that this same man, or Lopez Romulo as the spy had termed him, entered a low, fifth-ratecabaretnear the suburbs of Guanajuato. His soft, felt hat was slouched over his eyes, and the muffling folds of his coarse woolenbayetashrouded the lower portion of his face, only leaving a narrow aperture, from which gleamed a large black eye. After a quick glance around the room, he dropped his cloak, and spoke to thepatrone.
“Senor Don Sanchez, if acavalleroasks for me by the name you know, be so kind as to direct him to my table. Stop. Have you any acquaintance with Don Sylva Cohecho?”
“Carajo! yes; more than I could wish. He owes me for two nights’ drinking, and what a head he has got, to be sure! He said you would see me paid.”
“Very good. Include it with my bill. Send a bottle of wine and some cigarettes—not like the bundle you gave me the other day, or I will ram them down my pistol and use your head for a target.”
“I comprehend your excellency,” grinned thepatrone, significantly. “You were a stranger then, and I did not expect to see you again. It was all in the way of business, you see. But no offense, I trust?”
“None. You rob the traveler in one way, I in another; ha, ha!” laughed Romulo, as he passed to the further end of the vacant room, where he seated himself at a small table.
The host, when he brought the ordered articles, removed the two nearest stands to a distance, so that any thing said in a moderate tone by Lopez or his expected friend could not be overheard. After the elapse of an hour, perhaps, half of the tables were occupied, and then Sylva Cohecho, the repulsive-looking scoundrel who had betrayed Marcos Sayosa and his comrades of the Scarlet Shoulders to theMelladios, entered, and was directed to where Romulo was sitting. He was greeted with a careless, half-contemptuous nod by the latter, who did not deign to move the cigarette from between his lips.
“You wished to see me,’nor capitan?”
“On business, yes; for pleasure, no,” returned Lopez, not noting the flash of anger that shot from beneath the shaggy, pent-house eyebrows of his comrade. “I have work for you to do, of that kind which pleases you the most. There is a certain man that I wish put out of the way; a blow of thecuchillowill do. And the sooner it is done the greater will be your pay. He has deeply insulted me, and as it was at a place and time that I could not resent it then, I ask you. But that matters not. When you have done this, we will be ready to begin the business that brought us here.”
“And the person’s name is—?”
“One Marcos Sayosa, a miner of Los Rayas, and, I have heard, the chief of those who call themselves Scarlet Shoulders,” returned the captain.
“Good, and at the same time I can discharge the little sum he owes me!” exclaimed Cohecho, clutching his long knife vindictively.
“Ah, you know him, then?”
For reply Don Sylva narrated the adventures of the night on which he had played the spy.
“Your headstrong folly will ruin both yourself and my plans, yet; not that the first would matter much, because the sooner thezopilatesfeed upon your hideous carcass the better; but until this affair is over, remember your life belongs tome, and you must keep as much in the dark as possible. Supposing some of those miners should meet you again—for they will not soon forget such a marvel of grace and beauty as you are—their first greeting would be either a stab or a pistol bullet,” angrily muttered Lopez, as he refilled his glass.
“Carrai!but that’s a two-handed game,” returned Cohecho. “And they have all returned to work at the mines, so there is no danger of that. But about this Sayosa?”
“You will receive five hundredpesos, if you bring me satisfactory proof that he is dead; but beware how you act. If you try to deceive me, I wear a knife that has stilled the breath of better men than you, and perhaps you know my hand never misses its aim,” answered Romulo, significantly.
“Voto al demonios,’nor capitan, where is the need of threats? Have I ever played you false?”
“Not to my knowledge. If you had, you would not be sitting here now.”
“He is your enemy, and mine also. I shall claim the money within the week, perhaps before another night. But the other—”
“Is an altogether different affair. You will be paid for it, as I told you, just as soon as the work is done.”
“Carambo, it is beautiful!” murmured the ruffian, in a joyful tone. “After this I shall set up amontebank, and roll in gold—the sweet, darling gold!”
“Yes; after, but not yet. Do not let yourchiripeturn your brain or steal away the little sense you have got,” sneered Don Lopez, as he lighted another cigarette.
“Pardon,’nor capitan, I was dreaming. But did you see this Don Felipe Canelo?” returned Cohecho.
“Mil diablos, zarayote, why do you speak that name?” exclaimed Lopez, ferociously. “What do you know about him?”
“Nothing—nothing at all,” drawing a little back from the table, as if in expectation of an attack. “I only thought—”
“Carrai!” hissed Romulo. “You have no right to think of any thing or in any way but as I bid you. And the better you obey me in this, the longer will be your life.Por to dos santos” (by all the saints), “if I hear that name from your thick lips, or hear your tongue even hint at it, I will tear it out by the roots and feed it to thecoyotes.”
“I hear you,’norRomulo, and will heed yourhint.”
“See that you do. I never warn twice.”
“Have you any further orders?”
“None; except that you be here to-morrow night, to report progress in the first affair. Then you can attend to this miner, Sayosa.”
“Muy bueno!But,’nor capitan, I must have some money. I spent the lastocharoto-night,” hinted Sylva.
“Voto a brios, picaro, do you think I am a gold mine?” fumed the choleric Lopez. “Here, take this, and be a little less free in your riotings,” at the same time shoving six goldenonzasover to the other, who eagerly clutched them, saying, as he slipped them, one by one, into his pocket:
“You wrong me, master. Remember, there are many little bribes to give that I can not avoid, and—”
“To say nothing of theChinas,” interrupted Lopez, as he arose from the table. “But remember; be diligent, and meet me here at this hour to-morrow night,” and he turned away, without a look of recognition for the obsequious bow of the unabashed ruffian, who then resumed his seat with an air of relief, darting a venomous glance after his master, and refilling his glass.
“Yes, you may strut and put on airs for a while longer, you cursed dog, but only for a little while. Let me once receive my gold, and then—I will give you a receipt in full! Oh, won’t it be delicious when I am free, and settle your curses and your jeers with the knife? When I strike you to the heart, and then, as you gasp out your life at my feet, I will do as you have threatened me—pluck out your tongue and thrust it down your throat! I could die then, perfectly happy. No, not die; oh, no! I shall be rich then, and with the gold you give me, I will double and double it, until I can count it by thousands of ounces! No, no, not die; life would be too sweet then, and I will live for years—years of pleasure and feasting. Oh, the gold, and wine, and women! for them I will live—live forever!” murmured the hideous ruffian, as he drank repeatedly from the bottles before him, lost to the present, busied only with gorgeous images of the future.
It was true, as Sylva Cohecho had stated, that the miners had again returned to work. The overwhelming defeat experienced by theMelladioshad utterly awed them, and as the spies sent out by Lucas Planillas returned with the news of their resuming their everyday occupation, the Scarlet Shoulders doffed their insignia for the time being, and fell into their old routine. But there was a code of signals and a plan of communicationarranged, by which the band could be collected in an hour’s time, whenever such a step should be deemed necessary.
We must now ask the reader to accompany us to the interior of the mine ofLos Rayas, second only to that of Valenciana, in the state of Guanajuato. Its history presents a new feature in the mining system of Mexico, a brief explanation of which is necessary to a right understanding of the operations of the mining code.
Over the fertile valleys in the vicinity of Guanajuato the Cordellera rears its metaliferous crest, whose sides are veined with lodes of gold and silver, and which delivers to thetarretaof the miner the immense treasures of theVeta Madre, or Mother Vein, perhaps the richest lode of silver in the world. The striking contrast that is visible between the laborer and the miner is nowhere so apparent as in this portion of theBajio, or “bottom of the valley.” Humble and submissive, the Indian husbandman is at every one’s mercy. The miner, haughty and independent, takes a higher rank; and this claim is justified by the importance of the duty which he performs. Obliged to submit to labor which yields him only limited results, the husbandman finishes his work in silence; while the pickax of the miner resounds, so to speak, to the end of the world, and at every stroke he is continually adding to the riches of mankind. Prosperity is not long in coming to him. The slopes of the hills, the ravines, and even the summits of the mountains swarm with a dense population, among whom the lucky finders of a new lode scatter their hard-earned money with a thoughtless liberality, and squander in one day the earnings of six months. From the French miner, Laberde, who discovered the “Mother Vein,” and lavished thousands upon cathedrals, down to the meanestpeon, the history of this bold workman has been the same.
Fortune is the only God he worships. He goes to his dangerous occupation as if specially sent there by Divine Providence; and this proud thought is, by the laws of the country, highly favored, the privilege according the title of nobility to the worker in the mines. Even at this day, he can not be dispossessed by his creditor of his mine, if he can afford to work it.
Besides a knowledge of metals to guide him in his search,the miner must be endowed with a number of rare qualities, from that vigorous strength indispensable to one who has to raise heavy burdens, and support all day the enervating fatigue of underground work, down to activity and pliancy of limb, united with undaunted resolution and coolness. Sometimes, after toiling for a month, during which he has barely earned enough to live upon, in a week, or even in a day, he recompenses himself for his long privations. The miner then thanks Dame Fortune. He scatters his gold with a lavish hand, and returns to his work only when all his gains are exhausted.
When he strikes abonanza, as a very rich portion of the vein is called, those who work inpartido, or when a share of the proceeds is given him as wages, what he receives is often enough to keep him in comfort all his life. But such is not his nature.
Besides the grand shaft (tiro general) Los Rayas has two others of less magnitude, one of which reaches a depth of nearly eight hundred feet. Thetiro general, remarkable for the diameter of its shaft, of thirty-four feet, and for its frightful depth, of almost twelve hundred feet, communicates with three principal galleries, one above the other. These shafts and galleries, together with their accessories, form the most complete set of gigantic workings that are to be found in the country. Of its vast and gloomy grandeur we shall not speak; better pens than ours have described them. Nor of the workings continually going on in their depths.
Marcos Sayosa was there, together with his comrades. The lighted candles attached to their closely-fitting skull-caps, shining full upon their muscular, bronzed bodies, trickling with perspiration produced by labor and the close atmosphere, presented a weird picture. Just then the hoarse voice of one of themandones, or overseers, called out:
“H’la, ’norMarcos Sayosa, a gentleman wishes to ascend thetiro general. Will you go with him?”
Ever willing to accommodate, the young miner signified his readiness, and began the necessary preparation, looking somewhat curiously at the stranger who was brave enough to risk the ascent upon his first visit to the mine. Another miner was assisting him to dress in a sort of jacket and trowsers, of thick wool, intended to prevent the water, that shot forth in fine rain at several places along the shaft, from penetrating his clothes.A long stick, or baton, was used to prevent his being dashed to pieces against the rocks, by the oscillation of the rope, to which they were fastened by means of a plaited rope made from the bark of the aloe. Sayosa was about to take the post of danger, or the upper position, when the stranger spoke, in a courteous voice:
“Pardon,cavallero, but I wish to go first?”
“And do you know the danger?” asked the astonished miner.
“Perfectly. I have often ascended that of Fresvillo, at Zacatecas.”
“Very well. If you are willing I am.” But he looked curiously at the stranger, who, however, did not appear to notice this, as he was attending to his strap.
He was rather tall, well-dressed, and of a handsome form that was not impaired by his apparent age. Indeed, his lithe, springy movements did not accord with his long, gray hair and beard that almost covered his face. The gray skull cap was drawn close down to his eyebrows, and made the disguise, if such it was, perfect. For a moment Marcos was slightly suspicious; but when he heard the voice of the stranger this was lulled, and he banished all such thoughts.
The signal was now given, and the two adventurers slowly ascended into the shaft. For perhaps five minutes they advanced foot by foot, and then the horses above paused for breath. Each of the men carried a torch in his hand, but the light of which was rendered faint and uncertain by the damp vapor that arose from the subterranean recesses.
For a novice it would have been a trying situation, replete with real and imaginary dangers. Suppose the cable should break, or the strap in which they sat should slip down the rope, or become untied? There was no knot at the end to stop such. And then the fall!
To one the shaft seems to be divided into three distinct zones. At his feet a thick darkness dimmed the horror of that gulf which no eye could fathom. The very vagueness of the danger renders it tenfold more trying, while the white, tepid vapors arise slowly from the dark bottom, mounting toward them.
Close around them the torches lighted up with a smokyglimmer the green, slime-covered rocks, cut and torn in all directions by the pickax and the wedge. As the rope slowly twisted around, or oscillated from side to side, the rough and jagged profiles appeared endowed with life, now taking the form of some fearful monster, or assuming the shape of some one of the horrible demons with which the fertile imagination of the miners had peopled the bowels of the earth—guardian spirits of the countless wealth, and by the illusion of a fanciful brain, excited at the novel position, they appeared to be moving stealthily around to gain your rear, and one half closes his eyes with the momentary expectation of receiving its leap.
In the upper region a dense column of thick mist pressed around the circle of light cast by the torches, shutting one completely out from the light of day. It is a trying ordeal, even to a strong mind, and yet it has its charm.
Then the ascent was resumed and the visions vanished. The stranger now lighted a bundle of tow, steeped in pitch, at his torch, and dropped it down the shaft. Their eyes could scarcely follow it, as it slowly descended the pit, like a globe of fire, until it seemed as small as one of those pole stars, whose light scarcely reaches the earth. Once more the ascent paused.
“See,mi amigo, they pause again.”
“And for what?” returned Marcos, a little startled at the changed tones of his companion.
“Because I wished it. We are now just half way from the bottom. Do you know what would be the fate of a man who should fall from this distance?”
“His body would be dashed to pieces upon the floor, but he would not know it. He would be dashed to pieces before he reached it. But why do you ask?”
“Oh, from a mere whim of mine, I suppose,” laughed the stranger, a wild, half-sneering, half-ferocious laugh, that startled Sayosa, he scarcely knew why.
“But why did you wish to pause here? The damp is not pleasant, and my time is valuable,” he asked, a little impatiently.
“I wished to examine the walls, and tell you a little story. But fear not. I will recompense you for lost time when we reach the upper world, if we ever do.”
“If we ever do—what do you mean?”
“Why, if the rope should break—such accidents do occur sometimes, do they not?—we would not be in a condition either to pay or receive, would we?” and again that horrible laugh rung out, echoing from side to side of the pit, and died away in a hoarse murmur.
“The blessed Virgin have mercy upon our poor souls if that should happen!” uttered Sayosa. “But you spoke of a story. What is that to me?”
“Listen, and you shall hear. It is short, but the end will be most interesting. There were once two young men, who or what they were you shall soon know. They both loved the same girl, but one of them was favored before the other. Indeed, the unfortunate devil had no acquaintance with her, excepting a chance meeting. She did not even know his name. But he loved her, nevertheless, with all the fervor of his wild, untamed heart. And he would have married her, as he vowed when first they met, but she proudly repulsed him. Ha! you start. Have you heard any thing of the kind?” suddenly asked the stranger, as he bent forward and looked Marcos full in the face.
“Go on!” hoarsely whispered the young miner, as he glared at his companion, his suspicions newly aroused, more at the significant tones than the words he had used.
“Well, they met again, and once more she scorned his suit. And then he swore by all the saints that she should be his, not as a wife, as he first intended, but a plaything—a toy that he could cast aside when he was tired of it. But the two rivals met, and in a duel the poor devil was worsted, by a mere chance. A few days afterward he was frustrated in an attempt to carry off this fair damsel, and by this same rival. And now do you know of whom I am speaking?” he hissed, as he drew a long knife from his bosom, that glimmered in the torchlight.
The young miner did not speak, although he now knew who the stranger was, and the horrible fate that was in store for himself. He felt at his side for the knife he usually wore, but it was gone. As Estevan Despierto—for he it was—noted the action, he laughed triumphantly, and exclaimed:
“It is gone. I slipped it from your belt before we startedup thetiro. And see, I will be merciful. You said, a few moments since, that the man falling from here would not feel the blow as he touches the ground. See; I will draw the edge of this knife across the rope, and down you go—down—down—down!” and he stooped still lower, to do as he said, the first cut severing one of the large strands.
But his speech had given Marcos time to collect his strength, and in a situation of such peril one reasons fast. He drew up his body, and felt with his foot for the noose in which he had been sitting. As he gained it, the second cut was given, and with a dull snap the cable parted, the sound mingling with the ferocious laugh of Despierto. But the crouched form of the young miner sprung upward, and his sinewy hands firmly clutched both ankles of his would-be murderer.
It was a movement totally unexpected by the latter, and the sudden shock nearly tore him from his perch. The torch and knife dropped from his hands, as the latter instinctively raised to the cable and gripped it, with the energy of despair. That fact saved them both, but for how long? How would it end?
The vibration given to the cable forced it to and fro, until their forms were nearly dashed against the sharp, jagged points of the rocks, to touch which would be certain death, now that the ascent had recommenced, the shock being evidently regarded by those above as a signal to wind up the rope.
And they were only half way. Despierto strove with all his energy to loosen the hold of his enemy, but in vain. Both feet were fast in the vise-like grip of the young miner, who knew that if one hand, a finger even, should slip, a horrible death was inevitable; that he would shoot down—down through the vast tunnel, and if not suffocated, be killed upon the rocks below, perhaps at the very feet of his comrades.
The murderer shrieked wildly, and implored the young miner to loosen his hold, in his terror.That the plaited strap of bark, by which alone they were separated from death, was slipping, slowly slipping, down the smooth, hard cable.
It would bear the weight of one; two, it could not. Marcos fully realized his danger, but what could he do to avoid it? If Despierto would only allow him, he could climb handover hand up his body, and cling to the cable above. But he knew, that if he loosened one hand to clutch higher up, that the liberated foot would dash his hand from the other ankle. There was nothing to do but to wait—wait and pray that the outer world might be reached before the slip-noose should drop from the end of the cable.
The young miner fixed his eyes despairingly upon the end of the rope, where it had been severed by Despierto. The gloom was dense, but it stood clear as a rush-light to the preternaturally acute gaze of Sayosa. Slowly, but all too rapidly, it crawled away from him, until, to his strained glare, it seemed like a drop of molten gold, millions of miles above him.
Now it has vanished. The body of the disguised miner conceals it from Marcos, who now feels all the horrors of the death he contemplates. Each moment it seems to him that he hears the suddenburr-r-rof the noose slipping over the end. Oh, the horrors of those few minutes, so short in time, and long, countlessly long in experience! This hanging, suspended by a frail cord, between life and death, slowly nearing the one, while yet the other creeps nigher.
Marcos Sayosa closes his eyes with a shudder. He is brave, but such a death. Then Despierto utters a wild, piercing cry, but not of despair; it is one of hope. The mists above them have vanished, and the blue sky is visible. Oh, blessed sight!
Shriek after shriek they send up for help and as they are heard, eager, half-frightened faces are seen peering down toward them. Then the cracking of whips and loud shouts are heard, and the cable glides swiftly up thetiro.
But see! not three inches hold the bark-strap. With a hoarse howl, Marcos draws himself up by his arms, and then, with a desperate spring, he releases his hold. To fail is death; to succeed is safety andlife.
His long, sinewy hands clutched his foe around the neck. He draws up his feet, and places them in Despierto’s lap. Then grasping the cable, so massive that he can scarcely span it, he rests his feet upon the shoulders of his companion.
The mouth of the shaft is close at hand, but the bark-rope now fails. It slipped from the cable, and dropped over the body of Estevan Despierto, who had grasped the rope with a death-clutch. A hastily-formed noose is thrown from the sideof the shaft. It misses Sayosa and falls upon the upturned face of the other.
Crazed with terror, he releases one hand to grasp it, thus sealing his own death-warrant. The smooth, hard cable slipped through his benumbed hand. He sees his folly and strives to redeem it; but it is too late. His hand only closes upon the end that he had severed with a far different intention, and, as his body swiftly descends the ghastly shaft, one wild, piercing shriek is all; it was his last breath.
Nearly unconscious, but still clinging tenaciously to the cable, Marcos Sayosa was rescued from what had seemed certain death, and then, when he was once more upon the earth, that he had mentally bidden good-by, he sunk into a deep swoon, that for a time appeared to be death.
For an hour he remained thus, and the miners had nearly all rushed up from the bowels of the earth, to learn the cause of the catastrophe, and who was the victim. The fall had been heard, but upon inspection, no clue could be gained as to the identity of the ghastly man that strewed the floor. The severed end of the cable was found, and from its clean-cut edges, they knew that foul play had brought on the result. The old miner, who had witnessed the ascent, came, and, as he saw that the rope had been cutbelowthe place where the stranger had been secured, he whispered that the victim was their comrade, Marcos Sayosa, the chief of the Scarlet Shoulders. With wild shouts and vows of vengeance, the miners swarmed up the side shafts to avenge their comrade’s murder; for he was the idol of their mine.
After a time, the young miner was able to relate the story of his fearful peril and narrow escape; and, from the evidence of the old miner, that the stranger had taken the upper position, his statement was not doubted. But when he told the victim’s name, a murmur of surprise and commiseration ran around the crowd, for Estevan Despierto had been a general favorite, although not in so high a degree as Sayosa.
As soon as the young miner recovered his strength, from passing through the terrible ordeal, he resumed his clothes, and mounting a horse that one of his comrades had brought for his use, he slowly rode off toward thejacaleoftioTomas Ventura.