by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
DEMONTE.
It had not yet reached the hour of midnight, as we left the GreatNational Road, and commenced moving up the mountain,--in a lateralthough somewhat parallel course to that we had been following.
For a mile we marched along a path, where wheels might have passed at apinch.
We could see by the starlight that there were some small settlements oneach side, and one more conspicuous above, which we knew to be thehacienda of Buena Vista--famed as the spot where the best view can behad of the valley of Mexico. From this circumstance does the dwellingderive its name; and he who from its _azotea_ can look downward, withouthaving his soul stirred within him, must be incapable of romanticemotion.
On approaching from the coast--I mean Vera Cruz--it is here thetraveller first obtains a good view (_buena vista_) of theworld-renowned "Valle of Tenochtitlan;" here that he first comes withinsight of the City of the Moctezumas.
Story-telling tourists can see it from the summit of the Sierra--lookingthrough the long-leaved pines! Almost every one who has written a bookabout Mexico has made this plausible assertion.
But it must be remembered that these books have been mostly compiledafter the travellers had returned home; and, in some instances to myknowledge, before they started out--not having started at all!
One and all have followed the first teller of the fictitious talc; whomust have been sharper sighted than I. With tolerably good eyes--strengthened by a capital field glass--I could see no city of Mexicofrom the summit of the Sierra, nor from any part of its slopingdeclivity, through the dearest break the pine-forest afforded.
Considering the distance, it is not likely that I should. What I sawwas the "Valle" itself--not a valley in our sense, but a wide plain;inclosing within its limits several isolated hills, that might almost betermed mountains; mottled with broad expanses of swamp, and sheets ofclear water--the largest of these being Lakes Tezcoco and Chalco; hereand there a white dot, showing the lime-washed walls of a hacienda, thekeener sparkle of a church spire, or the glistening of an enamelled domeamidst the scattered huts of a _pueblita_.
All this you may see from the summit of the Cordillera; but not thetowers of Tenochtitlan. Before you can distinguish these, you mustdescend--nearer and lower. You must look from the terrace where standsBuena Vista; or the plateau occupied by the "Venta" of Cordova.
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When nearly abreast of the latter place, the road we were pursuing ranout, or rather into a bridle path; and my little troop had to stretchout into "twos."
A mile farther on, and even this slender formation had to be changed toone still more extended. The path was only possible for "single file;"and into this we fell.
Another mile of marching, and it was not possible for cavalry, orhorsemen of any kind. Only a pedestrian could pursue it, and he, too,one accustomed to climbing.
I muttered the command to halt, which had become indispensable. It wasearned in _sotto voce_ to the rear; and the horses, strung out for ahundred yards, came to a stand--one behind the other.
"There is no road beyond?" I said, interrogating the guide, who hadsqueezed up alongside of me.
"For horses, no. Only a footpath; an' scace that eyther. Thar air ahorse track further up; but it comes in from t'other side o' the ridge--on the left. It strikes off o' the National Road, close to the placewhar the coach got stopped. Thet's why I hev the suspicion the fellursmay be found at the house as lies up hyar."
"But why have we not gone along the main road, and then taken that youspeak of? We could have ridden on to the house?"
"No--not to the house. Thar's a bit o' it too--the last hundred yardsor so--impossible for bosses."
"Still it would have been better than to leave them here? I don't likeseparating the men from their saddles--especially as we know nothing ofthe ground."
"Thar's another reezun for our not goin' the other way," pursued theguide, without replying to my remarks. "If I'd taken you by the road wemight a made a mess o' it."
"How?"
"If they're up at the big house there'll be one o' 'em on the watch downbelow--near the joinin' o' the roads. They allers keep a sentry there.He'd be sartin to a seen us--whereas, by comin' this way, we may have achance o' stealin' close to the shanty afore any o' 'em sets eyes onus."
"You propose that we dismount, then, and go forward afoot?"
"Thar's no other way, cap'n."
"How far is it to the house?"
"As to distance, nothin'; not over six hundred yards, I shed say. I'veonly been there once. It's the steepness o' the track that takes up thetime."
I did not much like the idea of dismounting my men, and leading themaway from their horses. Not but that the individuals I had selectedwere equal to good fighting afoot; but it occurred to me that it waspossible for us to have been seen, as we marched along the lower road--seen, too, by those who might have a fancy to follow us.
There were guerilleros along the mountain foot, as well as robbers inits ravines. In short, every peasant and small proprietor was at thistime a _partisan_.
What if a band should get together, and come on after us? The captureof twenty American horses--without a blow struck to retain them--wouldhave been a blow to me I should not easily have got over. It would havebeen the ruin of a military reputation, I had but just commenced making.
I dared not risk such a discomfiture; and I determined upon the menremaining by their horses.
I had no idea of abandoning the enterprise. That would have been astill greater disgrace. I but stayed to consider some plan of approach,involving less risk of a failure.
A few minutes spent in reflection, and a few more words exchanged withthe stage-driver, helped me to what I conceived a better: the men toremain where they were; myself and the guide to go up the ravine alone,reconnoitre the house, and then take such measures as circumstancesmight suggest.
If we should find that the brigands were "abroad," my troopers would bespared a toilsome ascent, and the chagrin of a disappointment. If "athome," it might then be worth while to pay them a visit in full force.
The guide thought there would be no danger in our going alone--so longas we made our reconnoissance with proper caution. There was noscarcity of cover, both underwood and tall timber. In the event of ourbeing perceived while making approach, we could fall back upon ourfriends, before much harm could be done to us. Should we be closepressed, the men could meet us half-way. I had the means of making themhear me at three times the distance.
I had no lieutenant with me--only my first sergeant, who had seenservice in three out of the four quarters of the globe. Above all, hehad "fit Injun, both in forest and prairie;" and could be trusted on anenterprise like that we had in hand.
Having arranged the signal in a whisper, and communicated to him suchother instructions as occurred to me, I dismounted from my horse; andfollowed "Don Samuel Bruno" in the direction of the "shanty."
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The night was far from being a dark one. These are rare under the skiesof Southern Mexico. There was no moon, but myriads of stars; and at alater hour the moon might be expected.
The atmosphere was tranquil--scarce a breath of air stirring thesuspended leaves of the pines. The slightest sound could have beenheard at a remarkable distance. We could distinguish the bleating ofsheep on the plain below, and the screaming of wildfowl on the sedgyshores of Lake Chalco!
Less light, and more noise, would have answered our purpose better.
We ourselves made but little of the last. Though the path was steep, itwas not so difficult of ascent--only here and there, as it extended fromterrace to terrace by a more precipitous escarpment--and up these wewere assisted by the shrubbery.
We had agreed to proceed by signs; or, when near enough, by whispers.We knew that the slightest sound might betray us
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At short intervals we stopped to obtain breath--less from actualexhaustion, than to keep down the noise of our heightened respiration.
At one place we made a more lengthened pause. It was upon a shelf-liketerrace of some extent--where there were hoof-prints of horses, andother indications of a trodden path. My guide pointed them out--whispering to me, that it was the road of which he had spoken.
I bent down over the tracks. They were of recent date--made that veryday. My prairie experience enabled me to tell this, despite theobscurity through which I scrutinised them. The "sign" promised wellfor the success of our enterprise.
Beyond, the road became opener and easier. For two or three hundredyards it trended along a horizontal level, and we could walk withoutstrain.
The stage-driver silently preceded me--still going slowly, and withoutany abatement of caution.
I had time to reflect, as I followed him.
My thoughts were anything but cheerful. The gloomy canopy of the pinesappeared to give a tinge to my spirit, and it became attuned to the sadsighing heard high up among their _ancillae_. The moaning of the greatMexican owl, as it glided past on soft silent wing, seemed meant only tomock me!
I had been under a half belief that I had forgotten Dolores Villa-Senor,or become indifferent to her existence. Vain hallucination! Idle, andI knew it now.
Long weary marches; sieges protracted; battles, and wounds thereinreceived; even the coquetry of other eyes--wicked as hers--had notchased her image from my heart, or my memory. It was there still.
I could see her countenance before me--under the sombre shadow of thetrees--plain as I saw the white-winged owls--soft as the weird waftingof their wings!
I had not forgotten her. In that hour I knew that I never should.
And while hastening to effect her rescue, I felt as if I could havegloated over her ruin--so steeped was my soul in chagrin--so brimful ofblack vengeance!
It was no chivalrous thought that was carrying me up the slopes ofIxticihuatl--only the hope of humiliating her, who had humiliated me!
I was aroused from my unworthy imaginings by the voice of Sam Brown,whispering close to my ear. His words were:--
"Don't ye hear it, cap'n?"
"Hear what?"
"The music."
"If you call the hooting of that horrid owl--"
I stopped at a gesture from my guide. In the obscurity I could see hishand uplifted, his finger pointing upwards.
"Don't ye hear somethin' up that way?" he continued, "Thar's the twango' a guitar, or one o' them thar Mexikin bandoleens--as they call 'em.Hear that? Somebody laughin'! Hear that, too? If my ears haven't lostthar hearin', that ere's the voice o' a sheemale!"
The last remark secured my attention. I listened--as if expecting tohear a summons of life or death!
There _was_ the twang of a stringed instrument--harp or guitar, bandolonor _jarana_. There _was_ a voice--a man's voice--and the instant aftera series soft tones, with that metallic ring that can only proceed fromthe feminine throat.
"Yes," I assented, mechanically, "there's music there!"
"Moren' that, cap'n! Thar's dancin'."
Again I listened.
Certainly there was the pattering of feet over a floor--with motiontimed to the music--now and then a pause--a laugh or an exclamation--allbetokening a scene of enjoyment!
"It's the exact direckshin o' the shanty," whispered Sam. "They must be_in_ it. Thar's somethin' goin' on, hear that? There's a bust! Darnme, if they hain't got a _fandango_!"
It was an increased swelling in the sound that had called forth thisexclamatory language. A violin had joined its continuous strain to thethrobbing of the _jarana_; and several voices appeared to take part inthe conversation, which was carried on during the intervals of themusic.
There appeared to be nothing boisterous--no riot or roystering--onlysuch sounds as might be made by a party of pleasure-seekers engaged in apicnic, or _dia de campo_--the chief difference being that it was _inthe night_!
Certainly the sounds were not such, as I should have expected to proceedfrom a band of brigands engaged in an interlude of festivity.
"It's _them_!" whispered the driver of the diligencia--a better judge ofbrigand music than myself. "The very chaps we're in search o'. They'redoin' a little bit o' divartin; an', cuss me, cap'n, ef I don't b'lievethat them two gurls is joinin' willinly in the spree!"
I answered his speech only in thought. And a fell, fearful thought itwas.
"Dolores Villa-Senor not forced by cruel circumstances, but voluntarilyassisting at a carnival of _salteadores_!"
All thoughts of strategy were chased out of my mind. Even prudence forthe time forsook me. The remembrance of the past--the morbid imaginingsof the present--alike maddened me.
She upon whom I had fixed my affections--high and holy--the toy of arobber-chief! Worse still; herself wanton and willing!
"Go on!" I said, grasping my guide by the arm; "on to the house! Letus see what it means. On, on! There's no danger. In ten minutes I cancall my men around me; and if need be, we can run back to them. On! on!I must see with my own eyes, if she can be so degraded!"
Without altogether comprehending why, Sam Brown saw that I wasdetermined on advancing; and, yielding to my impulsive command, oncemore led the way.
