FOOTNOTE:

FOOTNOTE:[26]In Mexico it is the custom for masters to "thou" their valets.

[26]In Mexico it is the custom for masters to "thou" their valets.

Florencio Planillas, the Mexican Miner.

Left alone in the midst of the desert plain of Cazadero, I remained, I must confess, a considerable time in a state of great uncertainty. Being far distant from any habitation, I was debating within my own mind whether I should not turn bridle and regain the hacienda of Arroyo Zarco; but the sun shone so cheerily upon the plain, and the morning air was so refreshing, that my discouragement and hesitation disappeared like the mist upon the hills, which had now put on their usual bluish appearance. I continued my route. A gallop of barely two leagues would take me to the venta of the Soledad, where I had ordered Cecilio to await my coming. The landlord, on seeing me come in with a guitar slung across my shoulder, took me for a music-mad tourist that had come in the very nick of time to amuse him, and spoke of his love for music with the air of a man who was desirous to hear my performance. I refused, however, point blank, and hastened to take possession of the most retired room in the venta. Cecilio did not make his appearance till nightfall. He had nothing new to tell me. At midday, when he escaped from the hacienda, there was not the slightest stir. This information calmed me about the fugitives, and freed me from anxiety on their account. I resolved to pass the night in the inn. My poor valet, who had traveled on foot a distance ofthirty miles, was hardly able to stand upright; and, for my own part, I needed to husband my strength, that I might resume on the following day that pursuit which seemed to be getting interminable.

Next morning, at an early hour, we were in the saddle and on the road to Celaya, where we expected to meet Don Tomas. It was a two days' journey, and these two days were marked with as many odd occurrences as had signalized the first part of this singular excursion. In all the inns at which we stopped Don Tomas had preceded us only by a few hours. At last I arrived at Celaya, and alighted at the Meson de Guadalupe at the very moment that Cecilio was mentally registering the seventy leagues we had traveled since we left Mexico, with this consoling reflection, however, that, according to the intelligence we had received, we were now approaching the end of our journey. Unhappily, I was once more balked. At Celaya, as at Arroyo Zarco, I missed Don Tomas by half an hour. Don Tomas, on leaving Celaya, had taken the road to Irapuato. We set out for that place. In the solitary inn of this small market-town no one had seen him. They knew him, however, for the host told me that Don Tomas owned and inhabited a solitary house at the foot of the Cerro del Gigante (Giant peak).

"Where is the Cerro del Gigante?" I asked, not without an apprehension that it might be a hundred leagues away.

"It is the highest peak of the range of mountains," replied my host, "which overhangs Guanajuato. If you set out from here at dawn of day, you will be there in the evening."

Irapuato is ninety-two leagues from Mexico. Toreach Guanajuato I had still twenty leagues to travel. It occurred to me that Guanajuato was the town to which the Biscayan nobleman had conveyed Donna Luz. Besides the certainty of there meeting Don Tomas, I had the hope of learning the fate of a man in whom I already felt an interest as intense as if he had been an old friend. This double consideration determined me.

"Well," said I to Cecilio, "we must go and wait upon Don Tomas in his own house, which he seems in a great hurry to reach."

The road to Guanajuato winds through a ravine of interminable length called Cañada de Marfil, and it was far on in the afternoon before we reached that city, whose steep streets we traversed rapidly in the direction of the Cerro del Gigante. The road that we followed on leaving the town was cut with ravines and full of ruts. I was not long in regretting that I had entangled myself in such a defile as this, especially as night was coming on, and we were on an unknown road. As we advanced the scenery became wilder and more desolate; the noise made by the runnels of water which bounded over the rocks on either side, and the cawing of troops of crows which hovered over head, were the only sounds which broke the stillness around.

"Ah! señor," said Cecilio, approaching me when I had halted for a moment to recall to my recollection the instructions I had received, "this gully seems a real cutthroat place, and I hope nothing worse will befall us than wandering all night long in this labyrinth of mountains, where the cold cuts into one's marrow."

I was not insensible to the cold which began to prevail in this deep valley, and I threw over my shoulders the manga that the Biscayan had given me inexchange for my cloak. I began to share in my servant's fears; but I judged it better to keep my anxiety to myself, and continued to advance, certain besides of being in the right road, although it was becoming rapidly darker and darker. Abrupt precipitous rocks, with whitened crests, rose before and on each side of us. Already the mountains were throwing their long shadows across the valleys; the evening mist was mounting in light flakes from the deep bottoms in which the brooks purled to the mountain tops that the sun was touching with his departing beams; and the Giant Peak, which seemed to me so near, rose always at the same distance, encircled with a purple halo, overtopping the neighboring heights with an appearance of gloomy majesty, as if placed there as the guardian of the mysterious treasures inclosed in the bowels of the Sierra.

"You know the proverb, master," continued Cecilio: "those who go to seek wool often come back shorn. Something tells me that we have got ourselves into a terrible mess. Who can this Don Tomas be whom every body on the road knows, but whom we can never catch? Some bandit chief, I fear, who has his own reasons for not showing himself; and I think," he continued, in a low tone, "that these gorges are not so solitary as they seem. Mother of Jesus! did you not see the gleam of a musket-barrel among those branches up there?"

I carried my eyes involuntarily in the direction pointed out by Cecilio; it was nothing but the wind agitating the thick branches which crowned the crest of a precipice, and I could not see far on account of the fog. I affected to laugh at my servant's fears, when I thought I heard a sound resembling the clickof a gun-lock. Our horses could advance but slowly, owing to the rocks with which the bottom of the ravine was covered. I quickened my pace, however. All at once a flash burst forth over our heads, the whiz of a ball shot past our ears, and the report of a gun echoed through the ravine, accompanied by a dull sound, as if the ball had been flattened against the rocks.

"Ah! the scoundrel," cried a voice, which seemed to come from the top of the precipice, "I have missed him."

My first impulse was to close my eyes, in the expectation of hearing another report. An instant passed in terrible anxiety, during which the echoes reverberated among the rocks. I then raised my head to seek for the place from which the shot had been fired, but the fog lay so thick on the heights that I could distinguish nothing. A strip torn off the pennon of my lance, which was within two feet of my body, clearly proved that I had been aimed at.

"'Tis lucky I escaped that shot," said I to Cecilio; "but come, let us climb the rocks on both sides, and lay hold on the scoundrel who is seemingly so sorry that he has missed."

"But," cried Cecilio, who was not at all pleased with the task I had assigned him, "there is no indication whatever that they aimed at you; besides, I won't leave you. It is the duty of a good servant to be always at his master's side."

I gained the top of the rocks before him. As far as my range of vision extended, I saw nothing but the distant hills deeply bathed in violet, a few fields of maize whose heavy heads swung slowly backward and forward, and some deep gorges in the Sierra,denoted by deeper tints of color. The country round had a sad, melancholy look in the gray of the evening that was creeping over all. It would have been imprudent to have turned, so I continued my march. In a short time I perceived in the distance a building of considerable size; no smoke rose above the roof. Indeed, it seemed quite deserted. It had probably been at one time a work-shop. I was confirmed in this opinion by the dilapidated state of the walls, and the large holes in the tiling. Just when Cecilio was alighting to assure himself that the place contained no inhabitant, a horseman issued from a by-road, and came galloping up with a carbine in his hand. He stopped suddenly on seeing me, and continued to look at me for some seconds with an air of fear and visible distrust. All at once he burst into a loud roar of laughter.

"You are not, then, Remigio Vasquez?" he inquired.

"I don't know him," I replied.

"Ah! Señor Cavalier, pardon me; I fancied it was Remigio Vasquez I was firing at."

Again the fellow laughed loudly, but added, in a tone of regret,

"Caramba!to say that I missed at twenty paces, when I had covered you too; but a sudden movement you made saved your life. Ah! but I am indeed sorry."

"Of having missed, no doubt. No more of that, if you please. The hour and the place seem quite suitable for my taking my revenge by blowing your brains out."

"For what?" cried he, slightly alarmed. "I thought you were my enemy; I was deceived. I fired at, andmissed you. The one quite compensates for the other; and, for my part, I would not harm you the least in the world."

The unknown appeared so convinced by the force of his own argument that I could not help laughing. I then asked if I were far from the Cerro del Gigante.

"A good carbine could carry a ball there quite easily; but, from the windings of the ravine, it is a two hours' march from here; and, as the night is coming on, and the road rather difficult to find in the dark, I offer your lordship a night's lodging under my roof, to show you that I bear no malice."

The dilapidated appearance of the house promised only a very sorry shelter, but the offer seemed frankly enough made, and I was, besides, one of that class of unencumbered travelers with whom robbers only exchange salutations on the road. I made no difficulty, therefore, in accepting the offer, and dismounted. The unknown led me through a vast hall, whose roof was much broken in many parts, and, while he was assisting Cecilio to unsaddle the horses, I could see by the tools lying about the place that I was in one of those metallurgic work-shops (haciendas de beneficio) where the silver extracted from the mines receives its last treatment. My host was not long in returning; he lighted a miner's torch, and then told me to consider myself at home. Misery seemed to have taken up its abode in this ruined building, and I could not help remarking to myself that there seemed little likelihood of getting here even the slightest refreshment. I seated myself opposite to my host, and tried to listen patiently to the explanations he was giving me about the uses of various instruments which I had never seen before; but as time passed, and there seemedto be no likelihood of any thing being placed on the table, I said frankly,

"I am very hungry."

"So am I," he returned, gravely, without stirring.

I feared I had not been explicit enough.

"At what time do you ordinarily sup here? For my part, I can sup at any hour of the evening when I am as hungry as I am at present."

"Any hour is convenient enough for me; but to-day I have had no supper."

This reply astonished me. Luckily, Cecilio had supplied himself with some yards of dried meat.[27]I was able then, our respective positions being reversed, to offer a frugal repast to the singular amphitryon with whom chance had brought me acquainted, and he needed no pressing to make him accept it.

"It appears to me," I said, after we had finished, "that there is a certain person called Remigio Vasquez in the world who is far from being a friend of yours; what ill has he done you?"

"None, till a little ago; and I fired at him (that is, at you) to-day purely from precaution, and to prevent him from ruining me."

Florencio Planillas, that was my host's name, then entered into long details about his own affairs. He was one of those obstinate miners who have all their lives struggled to grasp after merely visionary illusions, and who, like the unlucky gambler, fancy themselves constantly on the point of becoming possessors of millions without ever being able to learn those rude lessons of experience which their unhappy obstinacy prevents them from acquiring. His history wasthat of many others. Once proprietor of a rich silver mine, then of a flourishinghacienda de beneficio, he had seen the thread of silver fail in theborrasca,[28]and the want of capital had forced him to suspend his metallurgic operations. According to Mexican custom, a mine once abandoned becomes the property of the person who proclaims the failure of the former proprietor. This proclamation was a perpetual source of annoyance to Florencio Planillas both day and night. His restless, perturbed spirit saw a rival in every one, ready to deprive him of his property, and he had been told that an individual named Remigio Vasquez had arrived the night before at Guanajuato, with the avowed intention of profiting by the suspension of his works, and claiming them as his own. It would prove a rough blow to Florencio to be deprived of a property which had enriched him before, and very probably might do so again. The Mexicans are very generally in the habit of deciding such cases by the knife. He had therefore vowed the death of Remigio Vasquez. "I never saw him," he added, on finishing his recital; "but his appearance has been so exactly described to me that he can not escape. I spent this whole day at Guanajuato trying to discover him, but in vain, and on my return, deceived by the darkness, by a certain vague resemblance you bore to him, and, above all, by the cloak you wore, I thought you were the person that had come to dispossess me of my rights, and it was only on closer inspection that I discovered my error. I do not say, however, that I am sorry I missed you; but after this I'll use the knife.El cuchillo no suena ni truena(the knife does its work silently), as my friend Tomas Verduzco says."

"Verdugo, you mean," said I, interrupting him.

"Do you know him?" cried Florencio, with a laugh. "What a capital joke! But you don't transact business with him, I think."

"What joke are you referring to?"

"Hombre!don't you know that his true name is Verduzco, and that he is called Verdugo[29](executioner) because he is obliged sometimes to see justice done to himself in what he calls his affairs of conscience?"

This peculiarity in the character of the man on whose heels I had been treading so closely was not the most agreeable thing in the world, I must confess; but I wished to get some more information about him, and accordingly inquired how long it had taken Don Tomas to acquire this formidable surname.

"On my word," replied Florencio, "that's one of those matters of which one does not like to keep a too exact account—probably he does not even know himself—but perhaps you will form a bad opinion of Don Tomas from what I have told you. The Señor Verduzco is no egoist; his neighbor may have the use of his knife at a time; and, provided you give him solid reasons (with a strong emphasis on solid), he is always ready to render one a service."

"The devil he is!" I cried. "Don Tomas must be a most inestimable character, and I am quite impatient to make his acquaintance."

In spite of this gasconade, the intense desire that I had shown to see Don Tomas was dispelled as if by magic; but, having gone too far to recede, I determined to make my way, as I had intended, to the Cerro del Gigante. The night passed without any incident occurring except that I was forced to lend my host apart of my manga to stop up a hole in the roof that admitted the cold, and I took leave of him in the morning with many thanks for his munificent hospitality, which had been shown by his appropriating to himself three parts of my supper and the half of my cloak. Moreover, not many hours before he had tried to shoot me.

I mounted, and proceeded in the direction of the Cerro del Gigante. Armed with my lance, whose torn pennon bore witness to the danger I had run, escorted by Cecilio, and having the guitar of the Biscayan nobleman thumping on my back, I bore no uncertain resemblance to the wandering knight of La Mancha in search of adventures, attended by his trusty squire. This mission of mine was one of the most delicate kind, for now I had no doubt whatever but that we were on the traces of a Mexican bravo, and I had been following him for the last six days. I was quite convinced, however, that I had done nothing to get myself involved with Don Tomas.

Thebravïof Mexico, like their compatriots in other countries where this formidable profession is exercised, begin at first by putting those to death to whom they become indebted at the gaming-table. It was, then, a point of the very greatest importance to establish my identity fully in the eyes of a fellow of this stamp, as I might probably, if this were not done, get a stab intended for some other person. This consideration deciding me above all, I repaired to the Cerro del Gigante, and in a short time arrived at a very pretty house at the foot of the mountain. A purling brook, shaded with sycamores, ran close by the door. My host of the preceding night had described the place to me too minutely to allow of my missing it. Iaddressed myself to a groom, who was rubbing down a beautiful horse at the gate, by inquiring if the Cavalier Verduzco could be seen at present.

"No, señor," replied the man. "He had scarcely arrived here last night ere he was sent on business of the utmost importance to Guanajuato, which he can scarcely finish in less than three days; and when he comes home, he may require to depart again immediately."

"Where is he going next?" I asked.

"I don't know," said the man, dryly. I made no more inquiries, wheeled my horse round, and rode off.

FOOTNOTES:[27]In some parts of Mexico butcher-meat is cut into strips, dried in the sun, and sold by measure, like ribbons or cloth.[28]An appellation given to a mine when it has become unprofitable.[29]A sharp poniard.

[27]In some parts of Mexico butcher-meat is cut into strips, dried in the sun, and sold by measure, like ribbons or cloth.

[28]An appellation given to a mine when it has become unprofitable.

[29]A sharp poniard.

Assassination of the young Spanish Noble.

On returning to the town, I inquired which of the three or four hotels in Guanajuata was the cheapest, convinced that it was only in one of that description that the Biscayan was to be found. I was right in my conjecture, for the first person I met on alighting in the court-yard of the posada was Don Jaime de Villalobos. He was just going out when I presented myself suddenly before him, and I had scarcely dismounted ere he pressed me in his arms, according to the manner of his country. For my part, I listened with interest to his adventures after our separation. He told me that he had arrived at Guanajuato almost four days before me, and that his utmost wishes had been realized. A priest, who had been gained over by the relative of Donna Luz, had married them without difficulty, and since that time his young wife had beenhidden in a convent, where he saw her every day, until he could take such steps as would allow them to leave Mexico. One circumstance only caused him a little alarm: he believed that he met in the streets, the night before, one of the servants who was in the train of his wife's father at the venta of Arroyo Zarco.

"But as I fancy that I see every where the appearance of spies and robbers," he said, gayly, "it is more than probable that I am deceived, and that they are seeking me at a greater distance than where I really am. And you," added he, "have you laid your hand on Don Tomas Verdugo yet?"

"No; and, from all I have learned about him, I am more anxious to avoid him now than I was to meet him before." And I recounted my adventure in the ravine with Florencio Planillas. "Your cloak," I added, "served me a bad turn, for it is similar to one that the informer against Florencio wears, one Remigio Vasquez."

At the name Don Jaime turned pale, and cried,

"What! was it Remigio Vasquez that the scoundrel had in mind to shoot? and do they accuse him of a crime which he never contemplated? Ah! my presentiments have not deceived me."

"Why?"

"Remigio Vasquez is the name I bear here."

This unexpected revelation caused me to shudder. Perhaps, even now, that villain, whose knife was at every one's service, might have been sent upon the Biscayan's track to satisfy the vengeance of the injured father. I told him what my opinion was upon the matter, and insisted upon his staying within doors for a few days; but the Spanish nobleman had now recovered all his former courage.

"No," he said, "Luzecita waits me at the convent. Not to go to see her would plunge her into the deepest grief. No one can escape their destiny."

We talked together a short time longer. As he insensibly lapsed into a gloomy mood, I tried to jest with him upon our actual position.

"As for me," I said, "I shall be more prudent than you. I am going to bury myself in the deepest mine I can find, and it will be a terrible thing if this horrid Verdugo meets me eighteen hundred feet below ground."

We separated, Don Jaime to the convent, and I to visit one of the most easily accessible mines in the neighborhood. As I was crossing the square on my way to the outskirts of the town, I fancied I distinguished the well-known face of Florencio Planillas at the door of a pulqueria. Delighted at having this opportunity of undeceiving him as to the intention of Remigio Vasquez, or rather Don Jaime, I went up to the door, in spite of the repugnance I have for these Mexican cabarets, where both men and women sit drinking that abominable liquor prepared from fermentedpulque.[30]Whether Florencio had seen, and wished to avoid me, I know not; at any rate, he disappeared into the shop. The life of Don Jaime doubtless depended on the interview I was going to have with Florencio. I stepped over some drunkards, quite intoxicated, who were lying, clothed in rags, across the doorway, and entered the pulqueria. What a fantastical appearance met my eye! The walls were covered with frescoes of the most incredible nature, representing ancient grotesque personages, pictures ofdrunken brawls, of murder, of love, of giants, dwarfs, and cavaliers, accompanied with the most startling devices, and all surmounted with this clinching inscription: (Hoy se paga, mañana se fia)—Pay now, credit afterward. Large open vats, filled with a milky liquor, from which exhaled a horrible smell, were placed all round the room, and the publican was busily engaged ladling it out with a calabash for his customers, among whom I soon recognized Florencio.

"Ah! Señor Cavalier," cried he, advancing with the glass in his hand, "allow me to offer you—"

"No, I am not thirsty; but I have some good news for you."

I tried then to tell him that he had been falsely informed when he had been told that the person who was trying to dispossess him of his mine was Remigio Vasquez. It was a long time before I could make the obfuscated drunkard understand the purport of my visit, and undeceive him with regard to the Biscayan.

"You see that I am delighted," cried he, when he had at last made out the meaning of my words.

"For poor Remigio's sake?" I said.

"No, for my own sake. I don't fear his information," he replied, with a drunken frankness; "but if that change my intentions regarding him, Remigio Vasquez's affair is not a bit improved. I mean to say—(and, swallowing what remained in his glass, he seemed to be trying to collect his thoughts)—I mean that it is capital for—for—"

"For whom?" I exclaimed, losing all patience.

"Ah! caramba, for our intimate friend, the respectable Don Tomas Verdugo, as your lordship styles him."

And the miner was not slow in telling me that the bravo would receive a considerable sum from the injured father, as he had been told, to avenge the insult offered to his outraged family.

"And where is Don Tomas?" I inquired of Florencio. "I am sure that I can undeceive him as well as yourself."

"I think I know where he is at present," replied Planillas.

"Well, why do you wait here? Let us set out immediately in search of him."

"I would like well enough to be off; but, you see, I can't quit this place without paying my score, and I have not a single tlaco about me."

"That needn't detain you. Call the publican."

"Truly," said Florencio, with much effrontery, "yesterday evening you partook of my hospitality; if you clear my expenses to-day, we shall be quits."

The publican immediately appeared, and I inquired how much Florencio owed him. The miner tipped him the wink, and the other immediately said, "Two piastres." This was far too much, and the drunken scoundrel would very likely gain a piastre and a half by it; but time was precious. I yielded, and we hastened in pursuit of Don Tomas. Unluckily, the tottering legs of my companion but ill seconded my efforts, and I was obliged to proceed very slowly. In this manner we traversed a considerable part of the town. Every now and then the drunken rascal stopped before a house, saying he was within, but he was invariably mistaken. We at last stood before a dark, steep, wet alley, at the end of which you saw the dusky light which issued from a garden.

"Are you sure you are right this time?" I askedanxiously of Florencio; "for time is passing, and poor Vasquez is in danger of his life."

"He is there, assuredly," stammered my companion; "for I could never forgive myself if I had arrived too late, and any misfortune (here his eyes became bathed in maudlin tears) were to happen to Don Tomas. Such a worthy man as he is, too!"

After this burst of sensibility, which failed signally in its object, Florencio plunged into the lane, and I remained alone, for I thought that we could no longer proceed together. I walked about in the street, a prey to anxiety easy to comprehend, counting the minutes, which seemed centuries, and expecting every moment to see this Don Tomas, who had not been out of my thoughts for so many days, appear before me; but time passed, and he did not make his appearance. An hour was spent in this manner, and at last I decided on going to the house myself. I walked through the dark alley, entered the garden at the other end, and the first thing I saw was a man stretched on the ground. This was the unhappy Florencio, who was snoring as if he would burst his nostrils, and had forgotten every thing in his drunkenness. I retraced my steps, resolving to trust to myself only; but it was a long time before I found myself in a part of the town I knew. I got to my hotel with some difficulty. Cecilio met me at the gate.

"Ah!" cried he, on seeing me, "what a dreadful misfortune has happened! The young cavalier that you met this morning had a quarrel fixed on him by a passenger in the street, and they have carried him to his own room. He is dead, there's no doubt of it."

Such an occurrence is so common in Mexico that no unusual stir was visible in the hotel as I mountedthe stairs to go to Don Jaime's room. The poor young man, uncared for, untended, appeared to be sleeping the most tranquil sleep of all, upon a bench of stone, with a bloody sheet thrown over him. The fresh air which struck his face as I lifted the cloth caused him to open his eyes, over which the glaze of death was already stealing.

"I know who you are," he said; "it was you who succored me when I was in want, and you will remain by me till the last, I am sure. Thank you."

The Biscayan gave me his clay-cold hand.

"My hand is burning hot, is it not? A few minutes agoshepressed it between both ofhers. Good God! what will she say when she never sees me again?"

"Never fear," I replied. "Tell me where I can see Donna Luz."

The Biscayan whispered her address into my ear.

"Now," replied he, "it is useless. My hours are numbered; she will come too late! When I am gone, don't tell her that she was the cause of my death. Inform her only that my last thought was of her."

Some rambling, unconnected words now escaped from the poor Spaniard—his mother's name, his country's, and his dear wife's, for whom he had paid the penalty of his life. While the exterior world was gradually fading from his eyes, the sweet and holy impressions of childhood, the first imprinted on the heart of man, and the last to leave it, still threw a few bright beams athwart the thickening darkness of his thoughts. All at once, turning himself to me, he exclaimed, in a clear, distinct voice,

"You will go and see my mother, won't you? Be it a year after this, or even ten. Say this to consoleher, that I died worth millions, but not that I breathed my last on such a bed as this."

I bowed in token of assent, and Don Jaime employed the little strength that was left him in telling me where to find his house, near Vergara, in Biscay. I promised to fulfill this last request. A vague, meaningless smile now played upon the dying man's lips, that moved only in a prayer he put up in which his mother's name was mentioned. These were his last words. I wiped away the foam that covered his lips with a corner of his cloak, and closed the eyes, which were wide open and staring. At this moment somebody touched me on the shoulder. I turned about. A man whose entrance I had not noticed stood behind me. By his staff I saw he was an alcalde.

"Well, Señor Cavalier," said he, "you would give something, I know, to have satisfaction for the death of this young man. I am convinced you would; be calm—the eye of justice sees it all."

"When it is too late," I said, in a low tone.

"Is he a friend—a relation—a brother perhaps?" asked the alcalde.

I knew Mexican law too well to allow myself to be taken in by this appearance of compassion and interest, and said nothing.

"Well, I am waiting for your declaration," pursued he, with an engaging air.

"My declaration, Señor Alcalde, is this" (and I inwardly asked pardon of the corpse lying before me for the lie I was about to utter): "I declare that I don't know, nor ever have known, this young man."[31]

The disappointed alcalde was not long in leaving the room.

"Ah! Señor Cavalier," said the huesped, who had witnessed the whole scene, "you are a foreigner, it is true, but you did not come into the country yesterday."

I pretended not to comprehend the compliment he had paid me, and threw a last glance at the poor Biscayan. His face wore that aspect of serenity and peace which often appears on men who have died a violent death. A quiet smile played upon his lips. Though only commenced a few days before, the short connection I had had with Don Jaime was now closed. As regards the mysterious link which bound me to Don Tomas, that was not broken for some time afterward.

A year had passed since the death of the Biscayan. I had quitted Mexico. Besides the promise I had given Don Jaime, a less romantic motive, one quite personal, led me into Spain. The embers of the civil war were then fast dying out. The diligences which plied between Bayonne and Madrid, and the towns between those cities, had stopped running in consequence of the Carlist bands which infested the Basque frontier. I reached Bilboa, and it was only at great expense that I could procure a pair of horses and a guide. This man, who was to leave me at Vergara, from whence I could reach St. Sebastian, had himself served in the Carlist ranks. From Bilboa to Vergara is almost thirty miles. Throughout this wide extent of country, the people in the villages, fearing invasion, had emigrated in bands, and the road, dangerous even at its best, would have appeared very long without the stories of my guide. We arrived at Vergara atnightfall; the townsmen were fast deserting it. A Carlist band had announced its arrival. My guide could go no farther, his pass not permitting him to leave the town. A league farther on the horses would be seized and himself arrested.

"I must leave you," he said, "but I am very sorry for it. I know my old comrades well; and may the holy Virgin keep you from falling into their hands."

"My nationality protects me," I exclaimed; "I fear neither Carlist nor Christino."

"Your being a Frenchman will not avail you, for—for—for—" The good man, hesitating for a while, added, "For you will probably be hung offhand."

This did not startle me much; I knew, if my life were in peril, I should find a secure retreat in the house of the mother of poor Don Jaime, who had once been a Carlist officer. The mountaineer, who could not account for my coolness, shook me by the hand and said,

"You are a brave fellow, by heavens! and I hope they will shoot rather than hang you."

The ex-Carlist quitted me. I left my valise at an inn, and, after learning the direction of the castle of Tronera, a place which every body seemed to know, set out on foot. It was about three quarters of a mile from the town. The castle of Villalobos, as I expected, was a gloomy enough place, and the wind was whistling in the angles of the crumbling turrets with a noise which sounded to me like the drums of a Carlist band. Flocks of swallows were darting in and out of some apertures in the loose tiles on the roof. The shutters were all closed; some scaffolding, however, raised at different parts of the building, showed that repairs had been begun, but had been interrupted.The castle seemed deserted. I knocked at the door. Some seconds elapsed, and a woman, clad in black, appeared. I desired her to announce to her mistress that a stranger had arrived from America, and was the bearer of some important news.

"Alas!" replied the woman, "the poor lady died six months ago, and I am looking for her son every day."

"He is dead too!" I exclaimed.

I then learned that, some time before my arrival, the mother of Don Jaime had been presented with a considerable sum of money. As no letter had accompanied the remittance, she concluded that the unknown benefactor must have been her son. This sudden change in her fortune had a fatal effect upon her. When on her death-bed, she had ordered the money to be laid out in rendering the castle worthy of the residence of its young master, and had died thanking God that he had allowed a gleam of prosperity to shine at last upon the old race of Villalobos.

I had fulfilled my promise, and did not remain long at the chateau. It is needless to add that, contrary to the warning of my guide, I finished my excursion without meeting even the shadow of a Carlist band or Christino detachment.

FOOTNOTES:[30]The sap of the aloe, which is first as sweet as honey, but by fermentation becomes stinking, sour, and heady.[31]By professing relationship, or even acquaintance, with one who has fallen by assassination, you render yourself, in Mexico, bound to defray the expenses of justice.

[30]The sap of the aloe, which is first as sweet as honey, but by fermentation becomes stinking, sour, and heady.

[31]By professing relationship, or even acquaintance, with one who has fallen by assassination, you render yourself, in Mexico, bound to defray the expenses of justice.

The Hand upon the Wall.—Desiderio Fuentes, the lucky Miner.—Don Tomas Verduzco.

Hardly a century ago, Guanajuato was a town of very little importance. Before the sudden change in its fortune, which resulted from the rich yield of silver in the Valenciana and Rayas mines, the mining industry of Mexico had concentrated its activity in the works of Tasco, Pachuca, and Zacatecas. The title ofciudad(city) had been borne by Zacatecas since 1588, while Guanajuato, though founded in 1554, did not attain that rank till seventy-eight years later, in 1741. It was not known that the mountains inclosing it on all sides, and on the slope of which it was built, held within their stony bosom theVeta Madre(Mother Vein), the richest lode of silver in the world. The situation of Guanajuato is, besides, doubly advantageous. The city is situated at once in the richest mining district in Mexico, and in the best cultivated part of the fertile plains of the Bajio.[32]It is thus the inhabitants call that large extent of country, about eighty leagues in circumference, which is bounded toward the side of Guanajuato by the Cordillera.

Alternately parched and inundated, the Bajiopresents at all seasons an aspect singularly picturesque. During the rainy season, the winter of those favored climes, the sky, which loses its blue without losing its softness, floods the plains with fertilizing torrents. For several hours a day the Bajio is a vast lake, studded with tufts of verdure, with blue hills, with groups of white houses and enameled cupolas. On this sheet of water the green summits of the trees alone reveal to the traveler the capricious meanderings of the inundated road. Soon, however, the thirsty soil has imbibed the moisture through the innumerable cracks that eight months' drought has left in its surface. A layer of slime, deposited by the heavy rains and the torrents from the Cordillera, has enriched the impoverished earth. The heavens are clear and cloudless as before. The springs, freed from the crust which obstructed them, gush out more abundantly from the foot of theahuehuetl.[33]The Peruvian-tree, the gum-tree, the golden-floweredhuisache, amid whose blossoms the scarlet-plumed parrots scream, shade and perfume the now consolidated roads. The songs of muleteers and the bells of mules resound in the blue distance, mingled with the shrill creaking of cart-wheels. It is the time when the Indian laborer returns to his toils. Like the shepherd in the Georgics, with his leathern buskins, his short tunic, and bare legs, he lazily goads the oxen at the plow. And such is the fertility of this soil, that splendid crops cover the ground which the plow has scarcely furrowed. Still, it is not in the rich plain alone that nature has been most indulgent to the happy dwellers in the Bajio. Over the fertilevalleys in the vicinity of Guanajuato, the Cordillera rears its metalliferous crest, whose sides are veined with lodes of gold and silver, and which delivers to the mattock of the miner the immense treasures of the Veta Madre.[34]The striking contrast that is visible between the laborer and the miner is nowhere so strongly apparent as in this part of the Bajio. 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, we must admit, by the importance of the duty he performs. Obliged to submit to labor which yields him only limited results, the husbandman finishes his work in silence, while the pickaxe of the miner resounds, so to speak, to the end of the world, and is constantly adding, at every stroke, to the riches of mankind. Prosperity is not long in coming to the indefatigable miner. The slopes of the hills, the ravines, and 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 thoughtless liberality, and squander in one day the earnings of six months. From the French miner Laborde, who lavished thousands upon Cathedrals, down to the meanestpeon, the history of this bold workman has been always the same. Fortune is the only god he worships. He goes to his dangerous occupation as if specially sent thither by Divine Providence; and this proud thought is favored by the laws of the country, old privileges according the title of nobility to the worker in themines. Even at this day he can not be dispossessed by his creditors of his mine, if he can afford to work it. It appears that there is a tendency to respect the descendants of a privileged race. 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, on scanty wages, the enervating fatigue of under-ground work, down to activity and pliancy of limb, united with undaunted resolution and coolness. These qualities, it must be owned, are never found in the same man without corresponding defects. A capricious and undisciplined being, the miner only employs all his tact and energy if interested in the success of his enterprise. Sometimes, after toiling for a month, during which he has hardly 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 after all his gains are exhausted. At times he enriches himself by secretly pilfering the ore which really belongs to the proprietor of the mine, and the miners are but too expert at this species of theft.

It was in the midst of a population like this that I found myself at Guanajuato, after the dangerous and useless search recorded in the preceding chapters. I did not wish to let this opportunity escape me of observing upon this theatre of action a class of men, of whom thegambusinos, or gold-seekers of the Sonora, give one only an imperfect idea. After spending a day in repose, which the many painful events I had encountered rendered necessary, I went out next morning to visit the mines in the neighborhood ofGuanajuato. While crossing the great square, and keeping myself on my guard, my attention was arrested by an unusual object. Nailed against the wall, and under a small pent-house, was a human hand cut off by the wrist. I stopped my horse to assure myself that it was not a plaster cast. A moment's examination was sufficient to convince me that it was indeed a human hand, once strong and muscular, but now blanched and withered by the wind, the sun, and the rain. Under the pent-house some half-burned candles told that pious souls had been touched by this strange exhibition, which seemed destined to perpetuate the remembrance of some bloody deed. After seeking in vain upon the wall an explanatory inscription, I continued my journey; but, during my short stay, a horseman had approached, and seemed determined to keep close by me. At any other time I would have accepted with a bad grace the company of the unknown, but I had come out, you must remember, in quest of a guide. I stopped my horse, and put some questions to him. The stranger bowed courteously.

"You are a stranger, Señor Cavalier," said he, with a smile.

"How do you know that?" I replied, a little astonished at his abrupt way of beginning a conversation.

"The curious way in which you gazed upon that withered hand sufficiently convinced me that you have not been long in the town, and had not much time to lose. I must say that, for me, who am looking out for a companion, our meeting is a lucky one."

I was not quite sure if I ought to accept with much cordiality the companionship so familiarly thrust upon me. He seemed to observe my hesitation, and exclaimed, with a certain degree of haughtiness, "Youdo not know me, and I am unwilling that you should for a moment suppose that you have got to do with some of those poor devils who are always ready to offer their services to the first stranger they meet. My name is Desiderio Fuentes. I am a miner; and, in the profession I exercise, there are some days on which fortune is unkind, and others on which you amass so much money that you do not know how to get rid of it. I am in the latter condition at present; and my invariable custom, on an occasion of this kind, is to procure some jolly companion who can share in my pleasures. If I can't get one, I take up with the first cavalier of good appearance I meet, and I confess that I have never had occasion yet to blame Fortune for the comrade she sent me."

This frank declaration reassured me completely. I told Desiderio, however, that I could not accept of his cordial offer. I had come to visit the silver mines in the immediate vicinity of Guanajuato, and was unwilling to waste in his company the time that I intended to devote to such a purpose, supposing always that he would not serve me as a guide. Desiderio preferred doing this rather than relinquish my society, being but too happy to escape from his own thoughts, were it only for a few hours. This bargain made, we spurred our horses, and a few minutes afterward got clear of the town.

On the road my guide informed me that he had made a lucky hit the night before, and that he could take hisfar nientefor several days to come from the proceeds of apartido.[35]He added that it would be adelightful recreation for him to visit the mines in the neighborhood as an amateur, and he desired me to choose the one I had a mind to visit, premising only that he would rather not go to the Valenciana, as he happened to have a quarrel with one of the administrators. He wished to keep away from the Mellado, because he owed some money to one of the workmen there; and as for the Cata, certain misunderstandings of recent date caused him to avoid it with the greatest care. In spite of the apparent liberty of choice he had granted me, I saw no other way of accomplishing my object but by going to inspect the Rayas—the only one open to me. The precautions which Desiderio Fuentes was forced to take did not say much in his favor. My new friend was evidently very quarrelsome. He had certainly no love for paying his debts, and in his misunderstandings (désavencias) his knife had doubtless played no unimportant part. I began to entertain but a very indifferent opinion of my companion. One expression especially that escaped the miner caused me to reflect.

"My first impulse is always very good," he said, "but I own my second is detestable."

We had now come to the extremity of a ravine whose precipitous sides had till now obstructed the view. A beautifully level plain lay stretched before us. Long strings of mules, laden with ore, were slowly making their way to one of those metallurgic establishments known in Mexico as ahacienda de platas. High chimney-stacks, from which volumes of smoke and leaden vapors rolled, now appeared; the stonepatrosalso, on which the fluid metal is poured a day before its formation into ingots. The noise of the hammer pounding the argentiferous rock, the clattering ofthe mules' hoofs, and the cracking of whips, were mingled with the hoarser sound of the falling water that moved the machinery. I had stopped my horse to gaze on this animated scene, but my attention was soon attracted elsewhere. A few paces distant, but half hidden from us by a hollow in the road, I espied two men dragging along with ropes the carcass of a mule. Having arrived at a place where Desiderio and I could alone see them, one of them stooped over the dead mule, and seemed to examine it curiously, casting at the same time a suspicious glance around. The moment he caught sight of us, he flopped down on the carcass that he had been dragging a minute before, while his companion immediately disappeared in a dense thicket of low trees and brushwood.

"Well, I thought I was right," said Fuentes. "It is my friend Planillas; but what the devil is he doing there?"

At the name of Planillas I shuddered involuntarily, and, preceded by Fuentes, made my way directly to the place where the man was seated on the mule. I hoped to obtain some information from the friend of Don Tomas Verduzco as to the part the bravo had played in the murder of my friend Don Jaime. Planillas, his elbows on his knees, and his head on his hands, appeared overwhelmed by violent grief. The noise of our approach drew him at last from his abstraction, and he looked up at us, but with an expression of uneasiness rather than of sorrow.

"Ah! señores," cried he, "in me you behold the most miserable man in all New Spain."

"You are doubtless thinking," I replied, "of the young cavalier whom Don Tomas assassinated two days ago, and whose blood is on your head, since youmight have saved his life by stopping the hand of your friend—of that Don Tomas who had been paid to kill him, you told me."

"Did I say that?" cried Florencio; "then, by the life of my mother, I lied. I am a terrible liar when in drink; and you know, Señor Cavalier, I had drunk a great deal that day."

Florencio paused, visibly embarrassed. Fuentes thereupon asked him why he was in such a state of grief when we came up, and why he persisted in taking the carcass of a mule for a seat.

"This mule is the cause of my sorrow," replied Planillas. "Although I was tenderly attached to her, I had sold her in my misery to the hacienda de platas you see in the valley below. I got employment in the work-shops to be near her; but, alas! the poor beast died this morning, and I have dragged her to this lonely place in order to mourn over her undisturbed."

Planillas again plunged his head between his hands with the air of a man who will not be consoled; then, doubtless, to turn the conversation, "Ah! Señor Cavalier," he said, "that is not my only misfortune. Yesterday a fight took place between the miners of Rayas and those of Mellado, and I was not there."

"I see nothing so unfortunate in that."

"Nothing unfortunate!" vociferated Planillas. "Ah! it was not one of those vulgar encounters that one sees every day; and you would never guess how it terminated—by a shower of piastres which the miners of Mellado poured upon their adversaries to prove the superiority of their mine. Ah! the beautiful eagle piastres!" he added, with a broken-hearted air; "and I was too late in the field."

I could better understand Planillas's grief for thislast disappointment; but I should have doubted this excess of arrogant prodigality on the part of the Mellado miners had not Fuentes confirmed, with proud satisfaction, the truth of the tale. My companion would again have questioned Planillas, of whose lamentations he appeared suspicious, but a sudden cracking of branches in the brushwood behind us attracted his attention. A little thick-set man, a sort of dwarf Hercules, with a somewhat stern expression of countenance, stood before us. He saluted us politely, and sat down on the ground beside Planillas. His mouth tried to smile, but his glance, sinister and piercing as that of a bird of prey, belied the feigned gayety. We were silent for a few moments. The new-comer was the first to speak.

"You were talking just now," he said, "if my ears did not deceive me, of one Don Tomas. Could it be of Don Tomas Verduzco you were speaking?" He said this in a soft and silky tone, that contrasted strongly with the evil expression of his countenance. This simple question, coming from a man who had at once inspired me with the strongest repugnance, sounded very much like an insult.

"Precisely," I replied, exerting myself to keep cool; "I accused Don Tomas of the murder of a young man whom he did not even know the night before."

"Are you sure?" said the man, with a sinister glance.

"Ask this wretch!" I replied, pointing to Planillas.

On hearing this, Planillas bounced up as if he had been touched by a spring. He appeared to have recovered all his assurance. "I never said any thing of the kind. But your lordship," cried he, in an ironical tone, "is surely not acquainted with therespectable Don Tomas Verduzco, since you speak so in his presence."

I looked at the man thus denounced to me, and whom I now beheld for the first time. Imagination placed before me the bleeding body of Don Jaime, his agony, his last moments, and his happy future, all cut off in an instant by the knife of the man before me.

"Ah! you are Don Tomas Verduzco—" I could not finish. A sort of faintness came over me, and, without accounting to myself for what I was about to do, I cocked one of my pistols. At the click of the lock the stranger's face became livid, for Mexicans of the lower classes, who will not wince at the glitter of a knife-blade, tremble at the sight of a fire-arm in a European hand. He never stirred, however. Fuentes threw himself between us.

"Gently, señor! gently, Cascaras! how you take the customs of the country!"

"The deuce take that Planillas," said the stranger, with a forced laugh; "he is always playing off some joke or other. But the idea of passing me off as Don Tomas is too absurd. Has your lordship any interest, then, in this Don Tomas?"

My passion appeared to me ridiculous, and passed away as by enchantment.

"I do not even know him," I replied, somewhat confusedly, but with all my former coolness. "I can not tell how he has got mixed up in my affairs; but I think I owe it to my safety to show no mercy to such assassins when chance throws them in my way."

The stranger muttered some unintelligible words. I thought the opportunity a good one to get rid of my new friend Desiderio, whose companionship was becoming somewhat burdensome to me, so I saluted thegroup and rode off; but I had not counted on the idleness of Fuentes, for, before I had gone a hundred yards, he had overtaken me.

"I was perhaps wrong," he said, "to interfere in this affair, and to prevent you from lodging a bullet in the head of that ill-looking knave; for, judging from the revengeful look he cast at you, I presume the first stroke of a knife you will receive will be from his hand."

"Do you think so?" I replied, rather startled at this unpleasant prediction.

"I yielded, in truth, too readily to my first impulse," continued Fuentes, who seemed in a reverie. "What if we went back?" he said. "You might then resume the affair at the point at which you left it, and, in case of need, I would help you."

It was quite clear that Fuentes regretted having let slip this nice opportunity for a quarrel. I dryly refused his offer, and thought to myself that, decidedly, his second impulse was worse than his first.

"You won't! Well, it's no great matter. After all, who cares for a knife-thrust more or less? I have received three in my time, and am not a bit the worse."

I did not deem it necessary to make any reply to this remark, which did not place my guide's character in a very favorable light, and cut short his revelations by asking him some questions about the mine whose buildings were coming gradually into sight as we approached.

Back to Index Next