The Bandolero - BestLightNovel.com
You’re reading novel The Bandolero Part 25 online at BestLightNovel.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit BestLightNovel.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
Scarcely a day of his life pa.s.ses without his being in peril. I do not allude to the reckless pace at which he urges his half-tamed mustangs-- three abreast--down the declivities of the Mexican mountains. These are occurrences of every hour. I speak of the perils that threaten him from the behaviour of the _bandoleros_--by whom he is repeatedly surrounded.
Sam Brown's dealings with these gentry were of almost daily occurrence.
At all events, there was scarcely a week without his being witness to a scene--not unfrequently having a tragical termination. More than once had he been present at the spilling of blood!
The _diligencia_ is usually accompanied by an _escolta_--a troop of _dragones_, or _lanzeros_, ill-armed and equipped; whose tattered uniforms, and feet set shoeless in their stirrups, render them more grotesque than terrible.
At times the escort is itself attacked; and a sharp skirmish comes off between troops and bandits--the former not unfrequently fleeing the field, and leaving their _proteges_, the pa.s.sengers, to be plundered at the discretion of the triumphant _salteadores_.
At other times the _escolta_ declines "coming to the scratch"--having taken the precaution just at the critical moment to be riding far in the rear; then galloping up with swaggering demonstration, after the robbers have completed their pillage, and gone away from the ground!
Either a strong escort, or none at all, was Sam Brown's sentiment; but his preference was, decidedly, for none at all!
In the latter case the _diligencia_ is often permitted to continue its route uninterrupted: the bandits believing, that it carries no pa.s.sengers worth protecting, and therefore not worth pillaging!
It is no rare thing for the "escolta" itself to be suspected; or at least the officer commanding it. More than once has the connivance been established, by evidence, in a court of law!
Still rarer does punishment follow in any proportion to the diabolical crime--the criminal usually getting clear by turning _salteador_ himself!
On the other hand, there are times when an honest officer--one of action and courage--makes his appearance upon the scene; and by the energetic performance of his duty becomes a terror to the bandits--rendering the roads comparatively safe.
Unluckily this improved state of things continues but for a short period. Some new _grito_--followed by the usual spasmodic revolution-- brings about a change, both in rulers and robbers; who sometimes also _exchange_ situations! The energetic officer is s.n.a.t.c.hed away from the scene--either by death, or promotion to a better post; and the pa.s.sage of the roads becomes perilous as ever.
Such were a few of the revelations I had from the lips of Don Samuel Bruno, as we journeyed along the lone causeway leading by the lake Tezcoco.
There were two things still unexplained, and which no little puzzled me: how my guide had contrived to come safe out of so many hair-breadth perils? And how he managed to keep his peace with the _salteadores_?
The explanation was asked for, and freely given.
The secret lay in a nutsh.e.l.l.
_No matter what happened, Sam always remained neutral_!
"Ye see, cap'n," said he--by way of explanation rather than apology, "as I'm only the driver, they hain't no ill-will agin me. They know I'm but doin' my duty. Besides, if thar was no driver, there ked be no _diligencia_; an' if _it_ war off the road, all the wuss for them, I reck'n. They look upon me as bein' nootral; otherwise I needn't go that way agin. I keep on my box, an' leave 'em do as they've a mind--knowin'
that I ked be of no sarvice to the poor pa.s.sengers that's bein'
plundered. I kin do _them_ more good, arter it's all over--by drivin'
them on to thar destinashun."
For a time my companion was silent, and I too. I became absorbed in thoughts, cheerless, if not absolutely sad.
The sight of Tezcoco, along whose sh.o.r.es we were now proceeding, was not calculated to cheer me. The lake looked still, and dark as Acheron itself--its sombre silence relieved only at intervals by sounds yet more lugubrious--the scream of the great curlew, or the screech-like call of the American ibis!
Giving way to a string of unpleasant fancies, I rode on without speaking to any of my comrades.
I was roused from my reverie by the voice of Sam Brown; who appeared desirous of once more entering into conversation.
"Cap'n!" said he, spurring alongside of me, and dragging the pack-mule after him. "'Scuse me for intrudin' upon you; but I've got somethin'
more to say about this business we're on. What air ye goin' to do?"
"No excuse, Mr Brown. On the contrary, I was about to put the same interrogatory to you. I confess that I feel a little perplexed. Now that we've started on this expedition, I begin to see the difficulty--if not the absolute idleness of it. It seems absurd to suppose that the robbers would send one of their number to meet any messenger, who may be deputed to them,--without taking precautions against a surprise?"
"They never do, cap'n. They ain't sech consarned fools."
"Well, I thought as much; or do now--now that I've had time to reflect upon it. It isn't the scheme I had intended to have carried out. After all, there's no alternative, but to go through with it. What's your advice?"
"Well, cap'n; my advice might be no better than anybody else's; only that I've took notice to a thing or two."
"Where? When?"
"I kin answer both yer questions at the same time: whar and when the coach was stopped."
"You noticed something strange?"
"More'n one thing; several o' 'em."
"What were they?"
"First, then, the skunks were _c.r.a.ped_."
"I've heard the same from Don Eusebio. But what signification is there in that?"
"Not much, I admit; only that it ain't common for reg'lar robbers to wear c.r.a.pe. They don't care who sees _their_ faces: bein' as they make thar home among the mountings; and never put themselves in the power of the sojers, or _alguazils_. These bein' c.r.a.ped, shows they're a lot from the town."
"What town?"
"Puebla, in coorse. It's the biggest nest in all the Mexikin domeenyuns. They wore that kiver to keep from bein' recognised--shed they be met afterwards in the streets. It don't follow that they were any the less brigands on that account. Them of the town air jest as bad as them that keep out in the country. They all belong to the same school; only the outsiders don't care whether they're known by them as they plunder; while the town chaps sometimes do--for sartin reasons."
"There were some other circ.u.mstances that appeared odd to you?" I asked of my intelligent guide.
"One other as looked darnationed odd. It puzzled me at the time, an' do still. I had my eyes on them two saynoritas as travelled with the old Don, thar father. There's one o' them especially I'd like to know who ked keep his eyes off o'. Well, what surprised me was, that instead o'
seemin' scared-like, and squealin' out--as I've heerd other Mexikin sheemales do when tuk by the robbers--they both flirted off among the trees, with two or three o' the brigands attending on 'em, jest as if they were startin' out a huckleberryin'!
"All the while the old Don war down upon his belly--flat as a pancake-- from which seetuation he warn't allowed to stir, till the gurls had gone clean out o' sight.
"Then one o' the band bargained wi' him about the ransom-money--tellin'
him it was to be trusted to me, an' whar it was to be brought. They then bundled him back into the coach, an ordered me to drive on--the which, I reckon, I war riddy enough to do."
"But there was a priest along with them. What became of him?"
"Oh! the monk. That 'ere is also kewrious. The robbers usooaly let _them_ go--after makin' 'em give each o' the band a blessin'! _Him_ they kep along wi' 'em; for what purpose the Lord only knows. Maybe to make sport o' him, by way o' divars.h.i.+n. Seein' that I war no longer wanted, I gave the whup to the hosses; and fetched the old gentleman away, all by himself."
"Do you think his daughters in danger of being ill-treated?"
"Well, that depends on whose hands they've fallen into. Some are worse than others. Some times they're only a set o' idle fellows from the towns, who put on robber for the time--just to raise the wind in that way. When they've got up a stake, they go back to their gamblin' at _monte_; the which pays them better, and ain't so much risk o' their gettin' shot, or shet up. There are officers of the army who've been known to take a turn at the business--after they've spent their pay, or don't get it to spend--which last happens beout half the time.
"Then there's the reg'lar _bandoleros_--or _salteadores_, as they sometimes call 'em--who live by it for constant. Of them there's several seprit bands along this road. One in partickler, called _Carrasco's_, who used to be a officer in Santa Anna's army. There's _Dominguez_, too, who was a colonel; but he's now along wi' you at the head o' the Spies. I don't think it was Carrasco's fellows that stopped us this time."
"Why not?"
"_They_ wouldn't a' cared to wear c.r.a.pe. I hope it wan't them."