by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT.
After having witnessed the disgusting ceremony in the Plaza, theofficers returned to their quarters at the Presidio.
As already stated, they did not return alone. The principal men of theplace had been invited to dine with them--cura, padres, alcalde, andall. The capture of the outlaw was a theme of public gratulation andrejoicing; and the Comandante and his captain--to whom was due thecredit--were determined to rejoice. To that end the banquet was spreadin the Presidio.
It was not thought worth while to remove Carlos to the soldiers' prison.He could remain all night in the Calabozo. Fast bound and well guardedas he was, there was not the slightest danger of him making his escape.
To-morrow would be the last day of his life. To-morrow his foes shouldhave the pleasure of seeing him die--to-morrow the Comandante andRoblado would enjoy their full measure of vengeance.
Even that day Vizcarra had enjoyed part of his. For the scorn withwhich he had been treated he had revenged himself--though it was he whofrom the centre of the Plaza had cried "_Basta_!" It was not mercy thathad caused him to interfere. His words were not prompted by motives ofhumanity--far otherwise.
His designs were vile and brutal. To-morrow the brother would be putout of the way, and then--
The wine--the music--the jest--the loud laugh--all could not drown somebitter reflections. Ever and anon the mirror upon the wall threw backhis dark face spoiled and distorted. His success had been dearlypurchased--his was a sorry triumph.
It prospered better with Roblado. Don Ambrosio was one of the guests,and sat beside him.
The wine had loosened the heart-strings of the miner. He wascommunicative and liberal of his promises. His daughter, he said, hadrepented of her folly, and now looked with indifference upon the fate ofCarlos. Roblado might hope.
It is probable that Don Ambrosio had reasons for believing what he said.It is probable that Catalina had thrown out such hints, the better toconceal her desperate design.
The wine flowed freely, and the guests of the Comandante revelled underits influence. There were toasts, and songs, and patriotic speeches;and the hour of midnight arrived before the company was half satiatedwith enjoyment.
In the midst of their carousal, a proposal was volunteered by some one,that the outlaw Carlos should be brought in! Odd as was thisproposition, it exactly suited the half-drunken revellers. Many werecurious to have a good sight of the cibolero--now so celebrated apersonage.
The proposal was backed by many voices, and the Comandante pressed toyield to it.
Vizcarra had no objection to gratify his guests. Both he and Robladorather liked the idea. It would be a further humiliation of their hatedenemy.
Enough. Sergeant Gomez was summoned, the cibolero sent for, and therevelry went on.
But that revelry was soon after brought to a sudden termination, whenSergeant Gomez burst into the saloon, and announced in a loud voicethat--
_The prisoner had escaped_!
A shell dropping into the midst of that company could not have scatteredit more completely. All sprang to their feet--chairs and tables wenttumbling over--glasses and bottles were dashed to the floor, and theutmost confusion ensued.
The guests soon cleared themselves of the room. Some ran direct totheir houses to see if their families were safe; while others made theirway to the Calabozo to assure themselves of the truth of the sergeant'sreport.
Vizcarra and Roblado were in a state bordering upon madness. Bothstormed and swore, at the same time ordering the whole garrison underarms.
In a few minutes nearly every soldier of the Presidio had vaulted to hissaddle, and was galloping in the direction of the town.
The Calabozo was surrounded.
There was the hole through which the captive had got off. How had heunbound his fastenings--who had furnished him with the knife?
The sentries were questioned and flogged--and flogged and questioned--but could tell nothing. They knew not that their prisoner was gone,until Gomez and his party came to demand him!
Scouring parties were sent out in every direction--but in the night whatcould they do? The houses were all searched, but what was the use ofthat? The cibolero was not likely to have remained within the town. Nodoubt he was off once more to the Plains!
The night search proved ineffectual; and in the morning the party thathad gone down the valley returned, having found no traces either ofCarlos, his sister, or his mother. It was known that the _hechicera_had died on the previous night, but where had the body been taken to?Had she come to life again, and aided the outlaw in his escape? Suchwas the conjecture!
At a later hour in the morning some light was thrown on the mysteriousaffair. Don Ambrosio, who had gone to rest without disturbing hisdaughter, was awaiting her presence in the breakfast-room. Whatdetained her beyond the usual hour? The father grew impatient--thenanxious. A messenger was at length sent to summon her--no reply to theknocking at her chamber-door!
The door was burst open. The room was entered--it was founduntenanted--the bed unpressed--the senorita had fled!
She must be pursued! Where is the groom?--the horses? She must beovertaken and brought back!
The stable is reached, and its door laid open. No groom! no horse!--they, too, were gone!
Heavens! what a fearful scandal! The daughter of Don Ambrosio had notonly assisted the outlaw to escape, but she had shared his flight, andwas now with him. "_Huyeron_!" was the universal cry.
The trail of the horses was at length taken up, and followed by a largeparty, both of dragoons and mounted civilians. It led into the highplain, and then towards the Pecos, where they had crossed. Upon theother side the trail was lost. The horses had separated, and gone indifferent directions, and their tracks, passing over dry shingle, couldno longer be followed.
After several days' fruitless wandering, the pursuing party returned,and a fresh one started out; but this, after a while, came back toannounce a similar want of success. Every haunt had been searched; theold rancho--the groves on the Pecos--even the ravine and its cave hadbeen visited, and examined carefully. No traces of the fugitives couldbe discovered; and it was conjectured that they had gone clear off fromthe confines of the settlement.
This conjecture proved correct, and guessing was at length set at rest.A party of friendly Comanches, who visited the settlement, brought inthe report that they had met the cibolero on their way across the LlanoEstacado--that he was accompanied by two women and several men withpack-mules carrying provisions--that he had told them (the Indians) hewas on his way for a long journey--in fact, to the other side of theGreat Plains.
This information was definite, and no doubt correct. Carlos had beenoften heard to express his intention of crossing over to the country ofthe Americanos. He was now gone thither--most likely to settle upon thebanks of the Mississippi. He was already far beyond the reach ofpursuit. They would see him no more--as it was not likely he would everagain show his face in the settlements of New Mexico.
Months rolled past. Beyond the report of the Comanches, nothing washeard of Carlos or his people. Although neither he nor his wereforgotten, yet they had ceased to be generally talked of. Other affairsoccupied the minds of the people of San Ildefonso; and there had latelyarisen one or two matters of high interest--almost sufficient to eclipsethe memory of the noted outlaw.
The settlement had been threatened by an invasion from the Yutas--whichwould have taken place, had not the Yutas, just at the time, beenthemselves attacked and beaten by another tribe of savages! This defeathad prevented their invasion of the valley--at least for that season,but they had excited fears for the future.
Another terror had stirred San Ildefonso of late--a threatened revolt ofthe Tagnos, the _Indios mansos_, or _tame_ Indians, who formed themajority of the population. Their brethren in several other settlementshad risen, and succeeded in casting off the Spanish yoke.
It was natural that those of San Ildefonso
should dream of similaraction, and conspire.
But their conspiracy was nipped in the bud by the vigilance of theauthorities. The leaders were arrested, tried, condemned, and shot.Their scalps were hung over the gateway of the Presidio, as a warning totheir dusky compatriots, who were thus reduced to complete submission!
These tragic occurrences had done much to obliterate from the memory ofall the cibolero and his deeds. True, there were some of San Ildefonsowho, with good cause, still remembered both; but the crowd had ceased tothink of either him or his. All had heard and believed that the outlawhad long ago crossed the Great Plains, and was now safe under theprotection of those of his own race, upon the banks of the Mississippi.
