CHAPTER II.PEDRO THE BOASTER.
Sergeant Pedro Gonzales, a giant of a wine-guzzling soldier whose heart was as large as his capacity for liquor, was known as “Pedro the Boaster.” When there were military duties to be done he was to be found at his post in thepresidio, but at other times one found him at the villageposada, sitting before the big fireplace and remaking the world with words.
On this moonlight night, Sergeant Pedro Gonzales crossed the plaza with a corporal and a couple of soldiers, entered the inn, and called in a loud voice for the landlord to fetch wine and be quick about it. The sergeant had learned long since that the fat landlord held him in terror, and did he but act surly and displeased he received excellent service.
“Landlord, you are as fat as your wine is thin!” Sergeant Pedro declared, sprawling at one of the tables. “I have a suspicion now and then that you keep a special wineskin for me, and mix water with my drink.”
“Señor!” the landlord protested.
“We honest soldiers are stationed here to protect you from liars and thieves and dishonest travelers up and down El Camino Real, and you treat us like the dirt beneath your boots.”
“Señor!I have the greatest respect—”
“One of these fine days,” Gonzales interrupted, “there will be trouble. Some gentleman of the highway will approach you with an idea of robbery, and you’ll shriek for the soldiery. And then, fat one, I may remember the watered wine, and be busy elsewhere!”
“But I protest—” the landlord began.
“More wine!” the sergeant shouted. “Must I get out my blade and carve your wineskins—or your own skin? More wine of the best, and you’ll get your pay when I get mine, if it is an honest score you keep. If my friend, Don Diego Vega, was here—!”
“That same friend of yours makes merry a little later in the evening,” the landlord said, as he went to fill the wine cups. “To-morrow he is to take a bride.”
“Pig, do you suppose I do not know it?” Gonzales screeched. “Think you that I have been asleep these past few months? Was I not in the thick of it when Don Diego Vega played at being Señor Zorro?”
“You were in the thick of it,” the corporal admitted, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.
“Ha!” cried the sergeant. “There was a turbulent time for you! Here in this very room I fought him, blade to blade, thinking that he was some stinking highwayman. And just as I was getting the better of it—”
“How is this?” the corporal shrieked.
“Just as I was getting the better of the blade match,” Gonzales reaffirmed, glaring at the corporal, “back he went and dashed through the door! And thereafter he set the town about its own ears for some time to come.”
“It occurs to me that I saw that fight,” the corporal declared. “If you were getting the best of it at any stage, then were mine eyes at fault.”
“I know a man,” said the sergeant, darkly, “who will do extra guard duty for a score of days.”
“Ha!” the corporal grunted. “You do not like plain speech!”
“I do not like a soldier to make mock of his superiors,” the sergeant replied. “It were unseemly for me to make remarks, for instance, concerning ourcommandante,Captain Ramón, but let it be said that he fought this Señor Zorro, too. And Captain Ramón wears on his forehead Zorro’s mark. You will notice that there is no carved Z on my face!”
“Ha!” the corporal grunted again. “It were best, sergeant, to voice such remarks inwardly. Thecommandanteis not proud of the mark he wears.”
Gonzales changed the subject. “The wine!” he thundered. “It goes well on a moonlight night, the same as on a stormy one. But moonlight is a poor business save for lovesick swains. ’Tis no night for a soldier. Would one expect thieves to descend through the moonlight?”
“There be pirates,” the corporal said.
“Pirates!” Gonzales’s great fist descended and met the table with a crash, sending the wine cups bouncing. “Pirates! You have noticed no pirates in Reina de Los Angeles, have you? They have not been playing around thepresidio, have they? I am not saying that they know I am stationed here, however— Meal mush and goat’s milk! Pirates is my dish!”
“The town grows wealthy, and they may come,” the corporal said.
“You fear? You tremble?” Gonzales cried. “Are you soldier orfray? Pirates! By the saints, I would that they came! My sword arm grows fat from little use.”
“Talk not of pirates!” the landlord begged. “Suppose they did come?”
“And what if they did?” Gonzales demanded. “Am I not here, dolt? Are there not soldiers? Pirates? Ha!”
He sprang to his feet, those same feet spread wide apart. His hand darted down, and he whipped out his blade.
“That for a pirate!” he shouted, and made a mighty thrust at the wall. “This for a pirate!” And he slashed through the air, his blade whistling so that the corporal and soldiers sprang backward, and the four or five natives who happened to be in the inn cringed in a corner. “Pirates!” cried Gonzales. “I would I could meet one this very night! We grew stale from inaction. There is too much peace in the world! Meal mush and goat’s milk!”
The door opened suddenly. Sergeant Gonzales stopped in the middle of a sentence, and his blade stopped in the middle of an arc. And then the sergeant and the other soldiers snapped to attention, for thecommandantewas before them.
“Sergeant Gonzales!” Captain Ramón commanded.
“Sí!”
“I could hear you shouting half way across the plaza. If you wish to meet a pirate, perhaps you may have your wish. Rumors have been brought by natives. Mount your men and proceed along El Camino Real toward the south. Search the country well, once you are four or five miles from the town. It is a bright moonlight night, and men may be seen at a great distance.”
“It is an order!” the sergeant admitted.
“Leave but one man at thepresidioas guard. Return before dawn. Have my best horse made ready, as I ride out to ahaciendafor a visit. Go!”
“Sí!” Sergeant Gonzales grunted. He motioned to the soldiers, and they hurried through the door. He sheathed his sword, and when the back of Captain Ramón was turned for an instant he tossed off the wine that had been before him, and hurried after his men. Thecommandantedrew off his gloves and sat at one of the tables.
Gonzales led the way across the plaza and toward thepresidio. He was growling low down in his throat.
“This is a fine state of affairs!” he said. “Ride all night and kick up the dust! Back before dawn with nothing done!”
“But you wanted pirates,” the corporal protested.
“Think you they will stand in the middle of El Camino Real and await our pleasure?” Gonzales growled. “What pirate would be abroad a night like this? Could we but meet some—ha! There is a special reward for pirates!”
Even before they had reached the entrance of thepresidio, he began shouting his orders. Torches flared, and men ran to prepare the horses. Fifteen minutes later, with Gonzales at their head, they rode across the plaza and out upon El Camino Real, their mounts snorting, their sabers rattling.
From the crest of a slope a few hundred yards away, Barbados and his evil crew watched them depart upon their mounts.