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The Free Lances: A Romance of the Mexican Valley

Chapter Thirty Nine
Up the Mountain

“We’re going to have a night black as charcoal,” said Rivas, running his eye along the outline of the Cordilleras, and taking survey of the sky beyond.

“Will that be against us?” queried the young Irishman.

“In one way, yes; in another, for us. Our pursuers will be sure to ride all round the Pedregal, and leave a picket wherever they see the resemblance of path or trail leading out. If it were to come on moonlight – as luckily it won’t – we’d had but a poor chance to get past them without being seen. And that would signify a fight against awkward odds – numbers, arms, everything. We must steal past somehow, and so the darkness will be in our favour.”

As may be deduced from this snatch of dialogue, they were still in the Pedregal. But the purple twilight was now around them, soon to deepen into the obscurity of night; sooner from their having got nearly across the lava field, and under the shadow of Ajusco, which, like a black wall, towered up against the horizon. They had stooped for a moment, Rivas himself cautiously creeping up to an elevated spot, and reconnoitring the ground in front.

“It will be necessary for us to reach the mountains before morning,” he added after a pause. “Were we but common gaol-birds who had bolted, it wouldn’t much signify, and we’d be safe here for days, or indeed for ever. The authorities of Mexico, such as they are at present, don’t show themselves very zealous in the pursuit of escaped criminals. But neither you nor I, Señor Kearney, come under that category – unluckily for us, just now – and the Pedregal, labyrinth though it be, will get surrounded and explored – every inch of it within the next forty-eight hours. So out of it we must move this night, or never.”

Twilight on the table-lands of the western world is a matter of only a few minutes: and, while he was still speaking, the night darkness had drawn around them. It hindered them not from proceeding onwards, however, the Mexican once more leading off, after enforcing upon the others to keep close to him, and make no noise avoidable.

Another half-hour of clambering over rocks, with here and there a scrambling through thickets of cactus, and he again came to a stop, all, of course, doing the same. This time to use their ears, rather than eyes; since around all was black as a pot of pitch, the nearest object, rock or bush, being scarcely visible.

For a time they stood listening intently. Not long, however, before hearing sounds – the voices of men – and seeing a glimmer of light, which rose in radiation above the crest of a low ridge at some distance ahead.

“Un piqûet!” pronounced Rivas, in a half-whisper.

“Soto en la puerto – mozo!” (knave in the door – winner) came a voice in a long-drawn accentuation, from the direction of the light.

“Good!” mutteringly exclaimed the Mexican, on hearing it. “They’re at their game of monté. While so engaged, not much fear they’ll think of aught else. I know the spot they’re in, and a way that will take us round it. Come on, camarados! The trick’s ours!”

Sure enough it proved so. A path that showed no sign of having ever been trodden, but still passable, led out past the gambling soldiers, without near approach to them. And they were still absorbed in their game – as could be told by its calls every now and then drawled out, and sounding strange in that solitary place. Ruperto Rivas conducted his trio of companions clear of the Pedregal, and beyond the line of enfiladement.

In twenty minutes after they were mounting the steep slope of the Cerro Ajusco, amid tall forest trees, with no fear of pursuit by the soldiers, than if separated from them by a hundred long leagues.

After breasting the mountain for some time, they paused to take breath, Rivas saying —

“Well, caballeros, we’re on safe ground now, and may rest a bit. It’s been a close shave, though; and we may thank our stars there are none in the sky – nor moon. Look yonder! They’re at it yet. ‘Soto en la puerto – mozo!’ Ha, ha, ha!”

He referred to a faint light visible at a long distance below, on the edge of the Pedregal, where they had passed that of a picket fire-camp, which enabled the monté players to make out the markings on their cards.

“We may laugh who have won,” he added, now seemingly relieved from all apprehension of pursuit.

Nevertheless the fugitive party stayed but a short while there; just long enough to recover wind. The point they were making for was still further up the mountain, though none of them could tell where save Rivas himself. He knew the place and paths leading to it, and well; otherwise he could not have followed them, so thick was the darkness. In daylight it would have been difficult enough, yawning chasms to be crossed barransas– with cliffs to be climbed, in comparison with which the escarpments of the Pedregal were but as garden walls.

In a groping way, hand helping hand, all were at length got up and over, as the tolling of distant church bells, down in the valley below, proclaimed the hour of midnight. Just then Rivas, once more making a stop, plucked a leaf from one of the grass plants growing by, and placing it between his lips gave out a peculiar sound, half screech, half whistle – a signal as the others supposed; being assured it was, by the response soon after reaching their ears.

The signal was given again, with some variations; responded to in like manner. Then a further advance up the mountain, and still another halt; this time at hearing the hail:

“Quien viva!”

“El Capitan!” called out Rivas in answer, and received for rejoinder first an exclamation of delighted surprise, then words signifying permission to approach and pass.

The approach was not so easy, being up a steep incline, almost a cliff. But on reaching its crest they came in sight of the man who had challenged, standing on a ledge of rock. A strange-looking figure he seemed to Kearney and the Texan, wearing a long loose robe, girded at the waist – the garb of a monk, if the dim light was not deceiving them; yet with the air of a soldier, and sentinel-fashion, carrying a gun!

He was at “present arms” when they got up opposite; and wondering, but without saying aught, they passed him – their conductor, after a momentary pause and a muttered word to him, leading on as before.

Another ascent, this time short, but still almost precipitous, and this climbing came to an end.

Chapter Forty
A Faithful Steward

The spot where they had now made stop – final for the night – was still far below the summit of the mountain. It was a sort of platform or bench, formed by the crest of a projecting spur, the cliff rising sheer at its back. Its level surface was only a few acres in extent, supporting a thick growth of tall evergreen pines, the long-leaved species indigenous to Mexico. Centrally there was a place clear of timber, which ran up to the cliff’s base, or rather to a building contiguous to it. In front of this they halted, Rivas saying —

“Behold my humble abode, caballeros! Let me bid you welcome to it.”

There was light enough to let them see a massive pile of mason work outlined against the cliff’s façade, while too dim for them to distinguish its features. They could make out, however, what appeared to be a pair of windows with pointed arches, and between them a large doorway, seeming more like the mouth of a cavern. Out of this came a faint scintillation of light, and as they drew up to it, a candle could be seen burning inside a sort of covered porch, resembling the lych-gate of a country church. There were some stone benches outside, from one of which a man started up and advanced toward them, as he did so putting the formal question —

“Quien es?”

“Yo, Gregorio!” was the answer given by Rivas.

“El Capitan!” exclaimed the questioner, in a tone also telling of pleased surprise. “And free again! I’m so glad, Don Ruperto! Praise to the Lord for delivering you!”

“Thanks, good Gregorio! And while you’re about it, you may as well give part of your praise to a lady, who had something to do with it – indeed, two of them.”

“Ah! Señor Capitan, I think I know one of them anyhow, and in all Mexico I can say – ay, swear it – ”

“True, true!” interrupted the Captain. “But stay your asseveration. There’s no time to talk about the Señoritas now. My friends and I are in want of something to eat. We’re as hungry as coyotes. What have you got in the larder?”

“Not much, I fear, your worship. And the cook’s gone to bed, with everybody else. But they’ll only be too delighted to get up when they hear it’s your worship come back. Shall I go and rouse them, Señor?”

“No, no. Let them sleep it out. Any cold thing will do for us. We’re as much fatigued as famished, and wish to be in bed ourselves as soon as possible. So look out whatever eatables there are, and don’t forget the drinkables. I trust the cellar isn’t as low as the larder?”

“No, Señor. Of that I can speak with more confidence. Not a cork has been drawn since you left us – I mean of the best wines. Only the common Canario was drunk in your absence.”

“In that case, mayor-domo, we may sup satisfactorily, so far as the liquids are concerned, should the solids prove deficient. Bring a bottle of Burgundy, another of the Brown Madeira, and, let me see – yes, one of old Pedro Ximenes. I suppose the brethren have used up all my best cigars?”

“Not one of them, Señor. The Havannahs have been under lock and key, too. I gave out only puros.”

“What a faithful steward you’ve proved yourself, Gregorio! Well, along with the wine, let us have a bundle of Imperadores. We haven’t tasted tobacco for days, and are all dying for a smoke.”

By this time they had entered the porch, and were passing on through a long corridor, still more dimly illuminated. But there was light issuing from a side-door, which stood open. By this Rivas made stop, with word and gesture signifying to the others to pass on inside, which they did. Not all of them, however; only Kearney and Rock. A different disposition he meant making of the dwarf than giving him Burgundy and Madeira to drink, with the smoking of “Emperor” cigars. Pointing to the crooked semblance of humanity, at which Gregorio was gazing with a puzzled air, he whispered to the latter —

“Take the beast back, and shut him up in one of the cells. You may give him something to eat, but see to his being securely kept. Insignificant as he looks, there’s mischief in him, and he might take it into his head to stray. You comprehend, Gregorio?”

“I do, your worship. I’ll take care to stow him safe.”

Saying which, the mayor-domo of the establishment, for such Gregorio was, caught the hunchback by one of his ears – grand auricles they were – and led him away along the corridor, with the prison chain trailing behind.

Rivas did not stay till they were out of sight, but turning, stepped inside the room into which he had ushered the other two.

It was rather a large apartment, but plainly and sparsely furnished; a deal table and half a dozen common chairs, with leathern backs and bottoms, such as may be seen in most Mexican houses. It was better supplied with arms than household effects; several guns standing in corners, with swords hanging against the walls, and a variety of accoutrements – all giving it more the appearance of a guard-house than the reception-room of a gentleman’s mansion.

“Now amigos” said the Mexican, after rejoining his guests, on whose faces he could not fail to note an odd inquiring expression, “I can at last say to you, feel safe, if I can’t assure you of a supper good as I’d wish to give. Still, if I mistake not, ’twill be superior to our prison fare. Por Dios! Having to put up with that was punishment enough of itself, without being set to work in the sewers.”

“Ah,” remarked Kearney, speaking for himself and the Texan, “had you been one of us prisoners from Mier up to Mexico, the diet you complain of would have seemed luxury for Lucullus.”

“Indeed! What did they give you to eat?”

“Brown beans only half boiled, tortillas, usually cold; and sometimes, for a whole stretch of twenty-four hours, nothing at all.”

“Carramba!” exclaimed the Mexican. “That was hard usage. But nothing to surprise. Just as Santa Anna might be expected to treat his captive enemies, whether of his own people, or as yourselves, foreigners. More cruel tyrant never ruled country. But his reign, thank Heaven, will not be long. I’ve reason for saying that, and better still for thinking it.”

The little interlude of dialogue was brought to a close by the entrance of the mayor-domo loaded with bottles and glasses. He had orders to bring the wine first, the cigars along with it.

Lumping all down upon the table, he left them to wait upon themselves, while he went off to ransack the pantry soon to return with a sufficiency of viands, and savoury enough to satisfy men who had just come out of the Acordada. There was cold mutton, ham, and venison, maize bread, and “guesas de Guatemala,” with a variety of fruit to follow. Verily a supper at which even a gourmand might not cavil; though it was but the débris of a dinner, which seemed to have been partaken of by a goodly array of guests.

Not long lingered they over it, before whom it was set a second time. Overcome by the toil and struggle of days, and more the mental worry attendant, even the wine freely quaffed failed to excite them afresh. Rest and sleep they more needed and much desired; all glad when Gregorio again showed his face at the door, saying —

“Caballeros, your sleeping rooms are ready.”

Chapter Forty One
Anxious Hours

“See, Luisita! Yonder go soldiers!”

“Where?”

“Along the calzada of Nino Perdido – under the trees – by the thick clump – they’re galloping!”

“Santissima, yes! I see them now. O Ysabel! if they overtake the carriage! Ay Dios!”

“Ay Dios, indeed! It’s to be hoped they won’t, though. And I have less fear of it now than ever. It must have gone that way, or the soldiers wouldn’t be there; and as it couldn’t have stopped at the garita, it should now be a good distance on. Keep up your heart, amiga mia, as I do mine. They’ll soon be safe, if they’re not yet.”

This exclamatory dialogue was carried on while the alarm bells were still ringing, and the guns booming. The speakers were on the azotea of Don Ignacio’s house, up to which they had hastened soon as home – having dismissed their escort below, and left orders for no visitors to be admitted.

In the mirador, with opera-glasses to their eyes, they had been scanning the roads which led south and south-west from the city. Only for a few minutes, as they had but just got back, and as the carriage having already rounded the turning to Coyoacan, they saw but the pursuing soldiers. Those were the Hussars, with Santander at their head, though the ladies knew not that.

Fortified by the hopeful speech of the Condesa, the other responded to it with an added word of hope, and a prayer for the safe escape of those they were concerned about.

Then for a while both remained silent, with the lorgnettes to their eyes, following the movements of the soldiers along the road. Soon these were out of sight, but their whereabouts could be told by the cloud of white dust which rose over the trees, gradually drifting farther and farther off.

At length it too disappeared, settling down; and as the bells ceased to ring, and the cannon to be fired, the city, with all around it, seemed restored to its wonted tranquillity.

But not so the breasts of Luisa Valverde and Ysabel Almonté. Far from tranquil they; instead, filled with anxiety, keen as ever. And now, as much on their own account as for those they had been aiding to escape. In their haste to effect this, they had taken no thought of what was to come after. But it was now forced upon them. As they looked back on what they had themselves done – the part they had been playing, with all its details of action – apprehensions hitherto unfelt began to steal over them, growing stronger the longer they dwelt upon them.

But what would be the upshot of all?

What if the carriage got overtaken with the fugitives in it, and beside them those knives and pistols, to say nothing of the file? A gentleman’s cloak too, with mango and serape! Odd assortment of articles for ladies to take out on an airing! They had no fear of the cochero betraying them; but this paraphernalia surely would, if it fell into the hands of the pursuers. They might expect investigation, anyhow; but these things, if produced, would bring about an exposure unavoidable.

No wonder at their soon becoming seriously alarmed, henceforth nervously agitated. And they had no one to take council with. Soon after their coming home, Don Ignacio, seeing and hearing of what happened, had sallied forth to make inquiries, and direct pursuit. Furious about his fine carriage and horses carried off, he little dreamt that along with them were his duelling pistols and blue broadcloth cloak.

Nor would it do to tell him of those matters, unless they made up their minds to confess all, and fling themselves on his affection more than his mercy. Of course he was still in the dark about their doings – unsuspicious man – had not even been told who the forzados were that had taken away his equipage.

Closeted alone, for some time the alarmed ladies could not think of what they ought to do. They did not yield to despair, however; instead, kept on scheming and considering how they might meet the worst – if the worst came.

But one way seemed plausible – even possible – that depending on Don Ignacio. If they could prevail on him to tell a falsehood, all might be well. Only to say the carriage had been made ready for a journey to his casa de campo, whither he had intended to proceed that same evening, taking his daughter and the Condesa along with him. That would explain the presence of the weapons; no uncommon thing – rather the rule – for carriage travellers to take such with them, even going but outside the suburbs of the city. For good reason, there being footpads and robbers everywhere. And the cloaks for protection against the night air!

In this way they groped about, as drowning people clutch at sticks and straws, still without being able to get rid of their apprehensions. Even should Don Ignacio agree to the deception they thought of – he would, no doubt, when made aware of their danger – it was questionable whether it would serve them. For there was a file too – a small matter, but a most conspicuous link in the chain of circumstantial evidence against them. They in the carriage would have been using it, before being taken – if they should be taken. Finally, the worst of all, the relations known to exist between themselves and two of the men attempting escape.

A miserable time it was for them during the remainder of that afternoon and evening; a struggle amid doubts, fears, and conjectures. Nor did Don Ignacio’s return home in any way relieve them. They were not yet prepared to surrender up their secret even to him. The time had not come for that. As the hours passed, things began to look better, and the suspense easier to bear. No report from the pursuers, which there would or should have been, were the pursued taken.

Something better still, at length. José back home with the carriage and horses, and nothing besides – no weapons nor spare wraps! All gone off, the tell-tale file along with them.

Pepita brought this intelligence in to the ladies, who longed to have a private interview with the cochero. But he had first to deliver his to Don Ignacio, who had sallied out into the stables to receive it.

A strange tale it was, imparted to an angry listener, who, while listening, looked upon his costly harness, patched and mended with ropes, where it had been cut. His fine frisones too, abused, possibly injured for good, the ear of one of them well-nigh severed from the head! Slow to wrath though he was, this was enough to make him wrathful, without the further knowledge of his other losses, about which José took care not to enlighten him.

At a later hour the circumspect cochero told his tale to other ears in terms somewhat different, and with incidents. His master, summoned to the Palace, gave the opportunity so much desired by his young mistress and the Condesa for speaking with him; and he was soon in their presence, getting interrogated with a volubility which made sober reply almost impossible.

His questioners, however, after a time calming down, listened to his narration in a detailed form, though not without repeated interruptions. He told them about the slow driving of the carriage along the garden wall of San Francisco, the putting on the disguises, and how cleverly they had outwitted the guard at the garita.

“Like Ruperto!” at this juncture exclaimed the Countess.

Then, of their onward course along the calzada, horses in a gallop, till stopped on the Coyoacan road, with the action taken there – quick as it was varied and strange.

Donna Luisa, in her turn, here interrupted in triumphant exclamation —

“Like Florencio!”

In fine, when made known to them how the fugitives had mounted and ridden off, both cried out together, in terms almost the same —

“Thanks to the Virgin, blessed Mother of God! We now know they are safe.”

Their confidence was strengthened by further questioning, for the trusted cochero was able to tell them more. How his horses had been caught, and brought back to him by two Hussars, one of whom he chanced to have a speaking acquaintance with. From the soldier he had learnt all about the pursuit, after it had passed beyond him; how they had searched the chapparal, but fruitlessly; the latest reports being that the éscapados had got into the Pedregal.

That was enough for the Countess, who, springing to her feet and clapping her hands, cried out —

“Joy, Luisita! They’re safe, I’m sure. Ruperto knows the Pedregal, every path through it, as well as we the walks of the Alameda. I shall sleep this night better than the last, and you may do the same.”

So assured, Luisa Valverde, devout as was her wont, responded with a phrase of thanksgiving, arms crossed over her bosom, eyes turned to the picture of Santa Guadalupe on the wall.

José stood waiting, not for any reward. Recompense for the service he had done them – so modestly declaring it – was not in his thoughts at that moment, though it might be after. But the Condesa was thinking of it then. Sure to promise and contract, she said to him —

“Faithful fellow – courageous as faithful – take this; you’ve fairly earned it.”

Whilst speaking, she drew the jewelled watch from her waist, and, passing the chain over her head, held it out to him.

“And this too!” added the Donna Luisa, plucking a diamond ring from one of her fingers, and presenting it at the same time.

“No!” protested the faithful servitor. “Neither the one nor the other. Enough reward to me to know I’ve done your ladyship a service – if I have.”

“But, good José,” urged the Countess, “you must either take my watch or the worth of it in gold doblones! That was the understanding, and I shall insist on your adhering to it.”

“Muy bein, Condesa; I consent to that. But only on the condition that the gentlemen get safe off. Till we’re sure of that, I beg your ladyship won’t look upon me as a creditor.”

“If her ladyship should,” here put in a third personage of the sex feminine, who had just entered upon the scene, “if she should, I’ll pay the debt myself. I pay it now – there!”

It was Pepita who thus delivered herself, as she did so bounding forward, flinging her arms around his neck, and giving him a sonorous kiss upon the cheek! Then, as she released her lips after the smack, adding —

“I’ve given you that, hombre, for what? Why nothing more than doing your duty. Ha, ha, ha!”

The laughter neither disconcerted nor vexed him. It was not scornful, while the kiss had been very sweet. Long-coveted, but hitherto withheld, he looked upon it as an earnest of many others to follow, with a reward he would more value than all the watches and rings in Mexico – the possession of Pepita herself.