The Bandolero; Or, A Marriage among the Mountains

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

  AN ANTIPATHY TO ROBBERS.

  After the storming of Chapultepec--the "summer palace of theMoctezumas;" in which I had the honour of leading the forlorn hope--donot mistake a plain statement of fact for a baseless boast--after aseclusion of three months within the walls of a sick chamber, caused bywounds in that action received; I stepped forth upon the streets of theMexican capital fully restored to health.

  Three months more were spent in partaking of those joys--the reward ofthe victorious soldier, who has completed a campaign.

  As in the "City of the Angels," so was it in that of the Moctezumas.The officers of the invading army were excluded from the "interiors"--such of them as were worth entering.

  But as it was no longer an army of invaders, but _conquerors_, theexclusion was neither so strict nor general. There were exceptions onboth sides--extending to a limited number of courageous hosts andwelcome guests.

  It was my fortune to be among the favoured few. One or two incidentshad occurred along the route--one more especially during the march uponMexico--in which I had the opportunity of bestowing favour andprotection. They were reciprocated tenfold by _proteges_--who chancedto be of the _familias principales_ of Mexico.

  During the three months that I lay upon the couch of convalescence, Iwas surrounded by luxuries brought me by grateful brothers. In thethree months that followed I was overwhelmed by the caresses of theirsweet sisters; all, of course, in an honest way.

  It was a pleasant time; and, if anything could have made me forgetDolores Villa-Senor, this should have done it.

  It did not. The sweetest smile I received in the Valley of Tenochtitlandid not, and could not, stifle within my breast the bitter souvenir Ihad brought with me from the other side of the Cordillera.

  Six months after the capture of the Summer Palace, my life in the cityof the Moctezumas became dull indeed.

  The theatres, slimly attended by the feminine _elite_ of the place; theballs not attended at all, or only by questionable _poblanas_, and theplain wives and daughters of the foreign residents (why are they alwaysplain in such places?) soon became unbearable.

  Even dissipation could not redeem the dulness of the times.

  For me the _monte_ table had no longer an attraction. The green clothwas spread out in vain; and I could stand by and hear, without theslightest emotion, "_Cavallo mozo_!" "_Soto en la puerta_!"

  In truth my interest in all things appeared gone--all upon earth, withthe exception of Dolores Villa-Senor; and she I could scarce think athing of earth.

  Just at this crisis there came a chance of distraction. I hailed itwith a feeling of gladness.

  The stray troops of the enemy had forsaken the roads that surrounded thecapital--as had also their guerilleros. But still the ways were notsafe. Partisans had disappeared, to be succeeded by _salteadores_!

  From all sides came rumours of robbers--from Puebla on the east, Tolucaon the west, Cuernavaca on the south, and the Llanos de Apam, thatextend northward from the Valley of Tenochtitlan. Scarce passed a daywithout "novedades" of the bandits, and their devilish audacity:stage-coaches stopped; travellers commanded to lie flat along the earth,while their pockets were being turned inside out; and some stretchedupon the ground never more to stand in an erect attitude!

  An escort of our dragoons could have prevented this--that is, upon anyparticular occasion. But to have sent an escort with every traveller,who had need to go forth out of the capital, would have required a scoreof squadrons of well-appointed cavalry. At the time we chanced to beshort in this arm; and the distribution of our troops to Cuernavaca andToluca, the strong force necessary to garrison Puebla--and the numerousdetachments required to accompany the commissariat trains, left nocavalry disposable for eccentric service.

  Till we should receive from Uncle Sam a reinforcement of dragoons, therobbers must be allowed to stop travellers and capture stage-coaches atdiscretion.

  This was the condition of things, six months after the _second conquest_of Mexico.

  I, for one, did not like it. It was but a Christian instinct to haterobbers, wherever found; but in the town of Puebla I had imbibed forthis class of mankind a peculiar antipathy.

  Experience and suspicion both formed its basis. I remembered CaptainCarrasco, and I could not help remembering _Captain Moreno_!

  A young artist who had accompanied our army throughout the campaign--andwhose life-like pictures were the admiration of all who looked uponthem--had been imprudent enough to risk travelling by _diligencia_ fromMexico to La Puebla. It was not his destiny to arrive at the City ofthe Angels--on earth; though it is to be hoped he has reached the abodeof truer angels in heaven! He was murdered among the mountains of the_mal pais_--between the "venta" of Rio Frio and that of Cordova.

  I had formed a strong attachment to this unfortunate youth. He had oftpartaken of the hospitality of my tent; and, in return I suppose forsuch slight acts of kindness, in his great picture of the storming ofChapultepec, he had fixed my face upon the canvas, foremost--farforemost--of those who on that day dared to look over the well-defendedwalls.

  The consciousness of having performed the feat did not render me lesssensible of the kindness of its being recorded. I, a homeless,nameless, adventurer, with no one to sing my praise--save those who hadwitnessed my deeds--could not feel otherwise than grateful.

  He saw, and sang them; in that verse in which he was a master--thepoetry of the pencil.

  I was half mad, when I heard that he had been murdered.

  In twenty minutes after, I stood in the presence of thecommander-in-chief.