The Bandolero; Or, A Marriage among the Mountains

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER NINE.

  MUERA EL AMERICANO!

  Like a thief skulking after the unsuspecting pedestrian, on whom heintends to practise his professional skill, so did I follow Francisco.

  Absorbed in the earnestness of my purpose, I did not observe threegenuine thieves, who were skulking after me.

  I am scarce exact in my nomenclature. They were not thieves, but_picarones-a-pied_--footpads.

  My first acquaintance with these gentry was now to be made.

  As already said, I was not aware that any one was imitating me, in thesomewhat disreputable _role_ I was playing.

  After watching my rival disappear within his doorway, I remained forsome seconds in the street--undecided which way to go. I had done with"querido Francisco;" and intended to return to my quarters.

  But where were they? Engrossed by my espionage I had made no note ofthe direction, and was now lost in the streets of La Puebla!

  What was to be done? I stood considering.

  All of a sudden I felt myself grappled from behind!

  Both my arms were seized simultaneously, at the same time that a_garota_ was extended across my throat!

  They were strong men who had taken hold of me; but not strong enough toretain it.

  I was then in the very vigour of my manhood; and, though it may seemvanity to say so, it was a vigour not easily overcome.

  With a quick wrench, I threw off the two flankers; and turningsuddenly--so that the _garota_ was diverted from its purpose--I got ablow at the ruffian who held it that sent him face foremost upon thepavement.

  Before any of the three could renew their attempt, I had my revolver inhand--ready to deal death to the first who re-assailed me.

  The footpads stood aghast. They had not expected such a determinedresistance; and, if left to themselves, in all probability, I shouldhave seen no more of them that night.

  If left to themselves, I could have dealt with them conveniently enough.In truth, I could have taken the lives of all three, as they stood intheir speechless bewilderment.

  I held in my hand a Colt's six-shooter, Number 2; another in my belt;twelve shots in all--sure as the best percussion caps and carefulloading could make them. A fourth of the shots would have sufficed: forI had no thought of taking uncertain aim.

  Despite the cause given me for excitement, I never felt cooler in mylife--that is for a combat. For an hour before, my nerves had beenundergoing a strain, that served only to strengthen them.

  I had been in want of something upon which to pour out my gatheringwrath; and here was the thing itself. God, or the devil, seemed to havesent the three thieves as a safety-valve to my swollen passion--a sortof target on which to expend it!

  Jesting apart, I thought so at the time; and so sure was I of being ableto immolate the trio at my leisure, that I only hesitated as to which ofthem I should shoot down first!

  You may be incredulous. I can assure you that the scene I am describingis no mere romance, but the transcript of a real occurrence. So alsoare the thoughts associated with it.

  I stood eyeing my assailants, undecided about the selection.

  I had my finger on the trigger; but, before pressing it, a quickreflection came into my mind that restrained me from shooting.

  It was still early--not quite ten o'clock--and the pavement was alivewith passengers. I had passed several on entering the little street;and, from the place where I stood, I could see a dozen dark formsflitting about, or loitering by the doors of the houses.

  They were all _leperos_ of the low quarter.

  The report of my pistol would bring a crowd of them around me; and,although I might disembarrass myself of the footpads, I should be in asmuch, or more, danger from the _patriotas_!

  I was quite sensible of the perilous situation in which I had placedmyself by my imprudent promenade.

  As the robbers appeared to have given up their design upon my purse, andwere making their best speed to get out of reach of my pistol, I thoughtthe wisest way would be to let them go off.

  With this design I was about to content myself--only staying to pick upmy cloak, that in the struggle had fallen from my shoulders.

  Having recovered it, I commenced taking my departure from the place.

  I had not gone six paces, when I became half convinced that I had made amistake, and that it would have been better to have killed the threethieves. After doing so, I might have found time to steal offunobserved.

  Allowing them to escape, I had given them the opportunity to return ingreater strength, and under a different pretence from that of theirformer profession.

  A cry that all three raised as they ran down the street, was answered bya score of other voices; and, before I had time to make out its meaning,I was surrounded by a circle of faces, scowling upon me with anexpression of unmistakeable hostility.

  Were they all robbers--associates of the three who had assaulted me?

  Had I chanced into one of those streets entirely abandoned to thethieving fraternity--such as may be found in European cities--where theguardians of the night do not dare to shew their faces?

  This was my first impression, as I noted the angry looks and hostileattitude of those who came clustering around me.

  It became quickly changed, as I listened to the phrase, fiercelyvociferated in my ears:

  "_Dios y Libertad! Muera el Americano_!"

  The discomfited footpads had returned upon a new tack. They had seen myuniform, as it became uncloaked in the struggle; and, under a pretenceof patriotism, were now about to take satisfaction for theirdiscomfiture and disappointment.

  By good fortune I was standing upon a spot where there was a tolerablelight--thrown upon the street by a couple of lamps suspended near.

  Had it been darker, I might have been set upon at once, and cut down,before I could distinguish my antagonists. But the light benefited mein a different way. It exposed to my new assailants a brace of Colt'srevolvers--one held in hand and ready to be discharged; the other readyto be drawn.

  The knife was their weapon. I could see a dozen blades baredsimultaneously around me; but to get to such close quarters would costsome of them their lives.

  They had the sharpness to perceive it; and halting at several pacesdistance--formed a sort of irregular ring around me.

  It was not a complete circle, but only the half: for I had taken mystand against the front of a house, close to its doorway.

  It was a lucky thought, or instinct: since it prevented my beingassailed from the rear.

  "What do you want?" I asked, addressing my antagonists in their owntongue--which by good fortune I spoke with sufficient purity.

  "Your life!" was the laconic reply, spoken by a man of sinister aspect,"your life, _filibustero_! And we mean to have it. So you may as wellput up your pistol. If not, we'll take it from you. Yield, Yankee, ifyou don't want to be killed on the spot!"

  "You may kill me," I responded, looking the ruffian full in the face,"but not till after I've killed you, worthy sir. You hear me,cavallero! The first that stirs a step towards me, will go down in histracks. It will be yourself--if you have the courage to come first."

  I cannot describe how I felt at that queer crisis. I only remember thatI was as cool, as if rehearsing the scene for amusement--instead ofbeing engaged in a real and true tragedy that must speedily terminate indeath!

  My coolness, perhaps, sprang from despair, or an instinct that noughtelse could avail me.

  My words, with the gestures that accompanied them, were not withouteffect. The tall man, who appeared to lead the party, saw that I hadselected him for my first shot, and cowered back into the thick of thecrowd.

  But among his associates there were some of more courage, or greaterdetermination; and the cry, "Muera el Americano!" once more shouted onall sides, gave a fresh stimulus to the passions of the _patriotas_.

  Besides, the crowd was constantly growing greater, through fresharrivals in the street. I could see that the six-shoot
er would not muchlonger keep my assailants at a distance.

  There appeared not the slightest chance of escape. A death, certain ascruel--sudden, terrible to contemplate--stared me in the face. I saw noway of avoiding it. I had no thought of there being a possibility to doso--no thought of anything, save selling my life as dearly as I could.

  Before falling, I should make a hecatomb of my cowardly assassins.

  I saw no pistols or other firearms in their hands--nothing but knivesand _machetes_. They could only reach me from the front; and, beforethey could close upon me, I felt certain of being able to dischargeevery chamber of my two revolvers. At least half a dozen of my enemieswere doomed to die before me.

  I was in a splendid position for defence. The house against which I hadbeen brought to bay was built of _adobes_, with walls full three feetthick. The door was indented to a depth of at least two. I stood withmy back against it, the jambs on both sides protecting me. My positionwas that of the badger in the barrel attacked by terriers.

  How long I might have been permitted to hold it is a question I will notundertake to answer. No doubt it would have depended upon the courageof my assailants, and the stimulus supplied by that patriotic cry stillshouted out, "_Muera el Americano_!"

  But none of those who were shouting had reached that climax ofrecklessness, to rush upon the certain death which I stood ready to dealout.

  They obstructed the doorway in front, and in a close threateningphalanx--like a pack of angry hounds holding a stag at bay, the boldestfearing to spring forward.

  Despite the knowledge that it was a terrible tragedy, I could not helpfancying it a farce: so long and carefully did my assailants keep atarm's length.

  Still more like a burlesque might it have appeared to a spectator, as Ifell upon the broad of my back--kicking up my heels upon the door-stoup!

  It was neither shot, nor stab, that had caused this sudden change in myattitude; but simply the opening of the door, against which I had beensupporting myself.

  Some one inside had drawn the bolt, and, by doing so, removed thesupport from behind me!