The Free Lances Part 36

"Feller-citizens,--For since I tuk up yur cause, I reck'n you'll gi'e me leave to call ye so--it air a glad thing to this chile to think he'll soon hev a bit o' fightin'. An' 'specially as it's to be agin ole Santy, the durned skunk. By the jumpin' Geehosofat! if Cris Rock iver gits longside him agin, as he war on't San Jacinty, there wan't be no more meercy for the cussed tyrant, same as, like a set of fools, we Texans showed him thar an' then. Tell them what I sayed, Cap."

With which abrupt wind-up he dropped back upon his seat, gulping down a tumblerful of best Madeira, as though it were table-beer.

Kearney did tell them, translating his comrade's speech faithfully as the _patois_ would permit; which heightened their enthusiasm, many of them starting to their feet, rus.h.i.+ng round the table, and, Mexican fas.h.i.+on, enfolding the _Tejano_ in friendly embrace.

The hugging at an end, there was yet another toast to follow, the same which always wound up the festivals of the "Free Lances," whatever the occasion. Their leader, as often before, now again p.r.o.nounced it--

"_Patria y Libertad_".

And never before did it have more enthusiastic reception, the cheer that rang through the old convent, louder than any laughter of monks who may have ever made it their home.

Ere it had ceased reverberating, the door of the Refectory was suddenly pushed open, and a man rushed into the room, as he entered, crying out--

"_Traicion_!"

"Treason!" echoed fifty voices as one, all again starting to their feet, and turning faces towards the alarmist. The major-domo it was, who, as the other _mozos_, was half equipped for a journey.

"What mean you, Gregorio?" demanded his master.

"There's one can tell you better than I, Don Ruperto."

"Who? Where is he?"

"Outside, Senor. A messenger who has just come up--he's from San Augustin."

"But how has he pa.s.sed our sentry."

"Ah! _capitano_; I'd rather he told you himself."

Mysterious speech on the part of the major-domo, which heightened the apprehension of those hearing it. "Call him hither!" commanded Rivas.

No calling was needed; the person spoken of being in the environ close by; and Gregorio, again opening the door, drew him inside.

"The _cochero_!" mentally exclaimed Rivas, Kearney, and the Texan, soon as setting eyes on him.

The _cochero_ it was, Jose, though they knew not his name, nor anything more of him than what they had learned in that note of the Condesa's, saying that he could be trusted, and their brief a.s.sociation with him afterwards--which gave them proof that he could.

As he presented himself inside the room he seemed panting for breath, and really was. He had only just arrived up the steep climb, and exchanged hardly half a dozen words with the major-domo, who had met him at the outside entrance.

Announced as a messenger, neither the Captain of the Free Lances nor Florence Kearney needed telling who sent him. A sweet intuition told them that. Rivas but asked--

"How have you found the way up here?"

"_Por Dios_! Senor, I've been here before--many's the time. I was born among these mountains--am well acquainted with all the paths everywhere around."

"But the sentry below. How did you get past him? You haven't the countersign!"

"He wouldn't have heard it if I had, Senor. _Pobre_! he'll never hear countersign again--nor anything else."

"Why? Explain yourself!"

"_Esta muerto_! He lies at the bottom of the cliff, his body crushed--"

"Who has done it? Who's betrayed us?" interrupted a volley of voices.

"The hunchback, Zorillo," answered Jose, to the astonishment of all.

For in the dialogue between the dwarf and Santander, he had heard enough to antic.i.p.ate the ghastly spectacle awaiting him on his way up the mountain.

Cries of anger and vengeance were simultaneously sent up; all showing eager to rush from the room. They but waited for a word more.

Rivas, however, suspecting that the messenger meant that word for himself, claimed their indulgence, and led him outside, inviting Kearney to accompany them.

Though covering much ground, and relating to many incidents, the _cochero's_ story was quickly told. Not in the exact order of occurrence, but as questioned by his impatient listeners. He ran rapidly over all that happened since their parting at the corner of the Coyoacan road, the latter events most interesting them. Surprised were they to hear that Don Ignacio and his daughter for some time had been staying at San Augustin--the Condesa with them. Had they but known that before, in all probability things would not have been as now. Possibly they might have been worse; though, even as they stood, there was enough danger impending over all. As for themselves, both Mexican and Irishman, less recked of it, as they thought of how they were being warned, and by whom. That of itself was recompense for all their perils.

Meanwhile those left inside the room were chafing to learn the particulars of the treason, though they were not all there now. Some had sallied out, and gone down the cliff to bring up the body of their murdered comrade; others, the major-domo conducting, back to the place where the hunchback should be, but was not. There to find confirmation of what had been said. The cell untenanted; the window bar filed through and broken; the file lying by it, and the chain hanging down outside.

Intelligible to them now was the tale of treason, without their hearing it told.

When once more they a.s.sembled in the Refectory, it was with chastened, saddened hearts. For they had come from digging a grave, and lowering into it a corpse. Again gathered around the table, _they_ drank the stirrup-cup, as was their wont, but never so joylessly, or with such stint.

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE.

"ONLY EMPTY BOTTLES."

About the time the Free Lances were burying their comrade in the cemetery of the convent the gate of San Antonio de Abad was opened to permit the pa.s.sage of a squadron of Hussars going outward from the city.

There were nigh 200 of them, in formation "by fours"--the wide causeway allowing ample room for even ten abreast.

At their head rode Colonel Santander, with Major Ramirez by his side, other officers in their places distributed along the line.

Soon as they had cleared the _garita_, a word to the bugler, with a note or two from his trumpet quick succeeding, set them into a gallop; the white dusty road and clear moonlight making the fastest pace easily attainable. And he who commanded was in haste, his destination being that old monastery, of which he had only lately heard, but enough to make him most eager to reach it before morning. His hopes were high; at last he was likely to make a _coup_--that capture so much desired, so long delayed!

For nearly an hour bridles were let loose, and spurs repeatedly plied.

On along the _calzada_ swept the squadron, over the bridge Churubusco, and past the _hacienda_ of San Antonio de Abad, which gives its name to the city gate on that side. Thenceforward the Pedregal impinges on the road, and the Hussars still going at a gallop along its edge, another bugle-call brought them to a halt.

That, however, had naught to do with their halting, which came from their commander having reached the spot where he had left the hunchback in charge of the two soldiers.

He need not hail them to a.s.sure himself they were still there. The trampling of horses on the hard causeway, heard afar off, had long ago forewarned the corporal of what was coming; and he was out on the road to receive them, standing in an att.i.tude of attention.

The parley was brief, and quick the action which accompanied it.

"Into your saddle, _cabo_!" commanded the colonel. "Take that curiosity up behind you, and bring it along."

In an instant the corporal was mounted, the "curiosity" hoisted up to his croup by Perico, who then sprang to the back of his own horse. Once more the bugle gave tongue, and away they went again.

The cavalcade made no stop in San Augustin. There was no object for halting it there, and delay was the thing its commander most desired to avoid. As they went clattering through the _pueblo_, its people were a-bed, seemingly asleep. But not all. Two at least were awake, and heard that unusual noise--listened to it with a trembling in their frames and fear in their hearts. Two ladies they were, inside a house beyond the village, on the road running south. Too well they knew what it meant, and whither the galloping cohort was bound. And themselves unseen, they saw who was at the head; though they needed not seeing him to know. But peering through the _jalousies_, the moonlight revealed to them the face of Don Carlos Santander, in the glimpse they got of it, showing spitefully triumphant.