The Bandolero; Or, A Marriage among the Mountains
Page 21
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
SIX O'CLOCK--IN THE ALAMEDA!
I had little difficulty in clearing the paroled officer from the chargeof assassinating "a member of the Spy Company."
As soon as his accusers discovered what I knew of that affair, they notonly withdrew their accusation, but their own precious persons, beyondthe reach of court-martial inquiry.
When "wanted," to give testimony in the investigation that ensued, notone, but five, of Dominguez's followers were reported "missing!" Thefour coadjutors of him who had been killed thought it more prudent notto press the charge; and when sent for, could not be found either in the"Spy" quarters, or elsewhere in the City of the Angels!
They had taken their departure _a los Montes_; and I was left alone totell the story of that nocturnal encounter.
For their testimony I cared not a straw; though the episode was notwithout some beneficial effects. It taught our renegade allies a littlelesion; which was no doubt afterwards profitable--if not to themselves--to those who were so unfortunate as to have dealings with them.
I was not so indifferent to the escape of the scoundrels who hadattacked me in the "Street of the Sparrows;" and who appeared to havetheir head-quarters there.
In half an hour after leaving it with my escort of Red Hats, I was backagain--accompanied by a score of Rifle Rangers, who assisted me inmaking an exploration of that interesting locality.
But the birds we went in search of had flown; and during the remainderof my stay in La Puebla de los Angeles, I never more set eyes upon myquaint challenger.
I learnt something more of him from Francisco--some chapters of hishistory that did not fail to astonish me. He had been a captain in theMexican army; and would be so again, should the tyrant Santa Anna getrestored to his dictatorial power. Whenever the star of the latter wasin the ascendant, the former was sure of a commission.
But as the light of Santa Anna's star had been of late onlyintermittent, so also was the holding of his commission by CaptainTorreano Carrasco.
During the intervals which Francisco jocosely styled "his leaves ofabsence," the gallant captain was in the habit of spending a portion ofhis time among the mountains.
"What does he do there?" I innocently inquired of my informant.
"_Carrambo, senor_! It is strange you should ask that. I thoughteverybody knew," was the answer.
"Knew what?"
"That El Capitan Carrasco is _un pocito de salteador_."
I was less astonished at the declaration, than the manner in which itwas made.
The young Mexican appeared to treat the thing as of no greatconsequence, but rather a matter of course. He seemed to look upon itin the light of a levity--scarcely a crime--one of the _Cosas deMexico_!
He was more serious when replying to my next question: "Has this CaptainCarrasco any acquaintance with the daughters of Don EusebioVilla-Senor?"
"Why do you ask, caballero?" he said, turning pale at the mention of thename; "You know them?"
"I have not the honour of knowing them, except by sight. I saw themthis morning at matins. I saw Carrasco there too. He appeared to takean interest in their devotions."
"If I thought so I'd--. Bah! it is not possible. He dare not--. Tellme, caballero; _what_ did you observe?"
"Oh, nothing more than I've said. What do you know about it yourself?"
"_En verdad_, nothing either! It was only a thought I had--fromsomething I once saw. I may have been mistaken. 'Tis of noconsequence."
We spoke no more upon the subject. It was evidently painful toFrancisco Moreno--as it was to myself.
At a later period--when our acquaintance became better established--further confidence was exchanged between us; and I was told the story ofFrancisco's courtship--to a portion of which, without his knowing it, Ihad listened before.
It was as I had supposed. There was an objection to his being united tohis _dear Dolores_--her father being chief objector. The young soldierwas but a "poor gentleman"--with no other prospect, save that at thepoint of his sword--not much in Mexico, to a man with an _honest_ heart.There was a rival who was rich; and to this "party" Don Eusebio hadpromised his daughter--with the threat of a convent in the case of herrefusal.
Notwithstanding this menace, Francisco was full of hope--based upon thepromises of Dolores. She had expressed her determination to sharepenury with him rather than wed the _rico_, who was not of her choice--to die, or do anything rather than go into a convent!
I was not so communicative as my new acquaintance--at least as regardedmy relationship with the family of Villa-Senor. To have spoken ofMercedes to another would have spoiled the romance of my passion. Not aword said I to Francisco of that hopeful affair.
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From that day I became noted, as one of the earliest risers on themuster-roll of the American army. Not a morning did I outsleep the_reveille_; nor once missed matins in the Cathedral.
Several times I again saw Mercedes. Each time there was an exchange ofglances--each day becoming better understood between us.
And still not a word had we exchanged! I feared to risk speech--thehumiliation that would follow, if perchance I was mistaken.
I was again on the eve of resorting to the epistolary mode ofcommunication--and had actually written the letter, intending to deliverit--not second-hand through the _cochero_, but, in _propria persona_, tothe lady herself.
At each succeeding _oracion_ I watched for an opportunity; when the fairworshipper, passing out along with the crowd, might come withindelivering distance.
Twice had I been disappointed. On the third time I had the chance,without taking advantage of it!
It was not needed. The wish I had expressed in my epistle was betterworded by Mercedes herself. As she descended the steps on her way tothe street, her lips came so close to my ear, that I was enabled tocatch every syllable of that sweet whisper:
"_En la Alameda. A seis horas_!" (At six o'clock, in the Alameda!)