The Mark Of Zorro (Penguin Classics)

by Johnston McCulley

  “Then everything will be well, señor,” she replied, clinging to him closely.

  “If the saints are kind, we shall meet again soon, señorita. I shall count the hours, and deem each one of them an age. I believe there are happier days ahead for us.”

  “May Heaven grant it!” the girl breathed.

  “Where there is love, there may be hope, señorita.”

  “Then my hope is great, señor.”

  “And mine!” he said.

  He turned his horse into Fray Felipe’s driveway now, and dashed toward the house. His intention was to stop only long enough to leave the girl, hoping that Fray Felipe would afford her protection, and then ride on, making considerable noise and drawing the troopers after him. He wanted them to think that he was merely taking a short cut across Fray Felipe’s land to the other road, and that he had not stopped at the house.

  He reined in his horse before the veranda steps, sprang to the ground and lifted the señorita from the saddle, hurrying with her to the door. He beat against it with his fist, praying that Fray Felipe was a light sleeper and easily aroused. From the far distance there came a low drumming sound that he knew was made by the hooves of his pursuers’ horses.

  It seemed to Señor Zorro that it was an age before the old fray threw open the door and stood framed in it, holding a candle in one hand. The highwayman stepped in swiftly and closed the door behind him, so no light would show outside. Fray Felipe had taken a step backward in astonishment when he had beheld the masked man and the señorita he escorted.

  “I am Señor Zorro, fray,” the highwayman said, speaking swiftly and in low tones. “Perhaps you may feel that you owe me a small debt for certain things?”

  “For punishing those who oppressed and mistreated me, I owe you a large debt, caballero, though it is against my principles to countenance violence of any sort,” Fray Felipe replied.

  “I was sure that I had made no mistake in reading your character,” Señor Zorro went on. “This señorita is Lolita, the only daughter of Don Carlos Pulido.”

  “Ha!”

  “Don Carlos is a friend of the frailes, as you well know, and has known oppression and persecution the same as they. Today the governor came to Reina de Los Angeles and had Don Carlos arrested and thrown into the cárcel on a charge that has no true worth, as I happen to know. He also had the Doña Catalina and this young lady put in cárcel, in the same prison-room with drunkards and dissolute women. With the aid of some good friends, I rescued them.”

  “May the saints bless you, señor, for that kind action!” Fray Felipe cried.

  “Troopers are pursuing us, fray. It is not seemly, of course, that the señorita ride farther with me alone. Do you take her and hide her, fray—unless you fear that such a course may cause you grave trouble.”

  “Señor!” Fray Felipe thundered.

  “If the soldiers take her, they will put her in cárcel again, and probably she will be mistreated. Care for her then, protect her, and you will more than discharge any obligation you may feel that you owe me.”

  “And you, señor?”

  “I shall ride on, that the troopers may pursue me and not stop here at your house. I shall communicate with you later, fray. It is agreed between us?”

  “It is agreed!” Fray Felipe replied solemnly. “And I would clasp you by the hand, señor!”

  That handclasp was short, yet full of expression for all that. Señor Zorro then whirled toward the door.

  “Blow out your candle!” he directed. “They must see no light when I open the door.”

  In an instant Fray Felipe had complied, and they were in darkness. Señorita Lolita felt Señor Zorro’s lips press against her own for an instant, and knew that he had raised the bottom of his mask to give her this caress. And then she felt one of Fray Felipe’s strong arms around her.

  “Be of good courage, daughter,” the fray said. “Señor Zorro, it appears, has as many lives as a cat, and something tells me he was not born to be slain by troopers of his excellency.”

  The highwayman laughed lightly at that, opened the door and darted through, closed it softly behind him, and so was gone.

  Great eucalyptus trees shrouded the front of the house in shadows, and in the midst of these shadows was Señor Zorro’s horse. He noticed, as he ran toward the beast, that the soldiers were galloping down the driveway, that they were much nearer than he had expected to find them when he emerged from the house.

  He ran quickly toward his mount, tripped on a stone and fell, and frightened the animal so that it reared and darted half a dozen paces away, and into the full moonlight.

  The foremost of his pursuers shouted when he saw the horse, and dashed toward it. Señor Zorro picked himself up, gave a quick spring, caught the reins from the ground and vaulted into the saddle.

  But they were upon him now, surrounding him, their blades flashing in the moonlight. He heard the raucous voice of Sergeant Gonzales ordering the men.

  “Alive, if you can, soldiers! His excellency would see the rogue suffer for his crimes. At him, troopers! By the saints!”

  Señor Zorro parried a stroke with difficulty, and found himself unhorsed. On foot, he fought his way back into the shadows, and the troopers charged after him. With his back to the bole of a tree, Señor Zorro fought them off.

  Three sprang from their saddles to rush in at him. He darted from the tree to another, but could not reach his horse. But one belonging to a dismounted trooper was near him, and he vaulted into the saddle and dashed down the slope toward the barns and corral.

  “After the rogue!” he heard Sergeant Gonzales shouting. “His excellency will have us flayed alive if this pretty highwayman escapes us now!”

  They charged after him, eager to win promotion and the reward. But Señor Zorro had some sort of a start of them, enough to enable him to play a trick. As he came into the shadow cast by a big barn, he slipped from the saddle, at the same time giving the horse he rode a cut with his rowels. The animal plunged ahead, snorting with pain and fright, running swiftly through the darkness toward the corral below. The soldiers dashed by in pursuit.

  Señor Zorro waited until they were past, and then he ran rapidly up the hill again. But he saw that some of the troopers had remained behind to guard the house, evidently with the intention of searching it later, and so he found he could not reach his horse.

  And once more there rang out that peculiar cry, half shriek and half moan, with which Señor Zorro had startled those at the hacienda of Don Carlos Pulido. His horse raised its head, whinnied once in answer to his call, and galloped toward him.

  Señor Zorro was in the saddle in an instant, spurring across a field directly in front of him. His horse went over a stone fence as if it had not been in the way. And after him speedily came a part of the troopers.

  They had discovered the trick he had used. They charged at him from both sides, met behind him, followed and strained to cut down his lead. He could hear Sergeant Pedro Gonzales shouting lustily for them to make a capture in the name of the governor.

  He hoped that he had drawn them all away from Fray Felipe’s house, but he was not sure, and the thing that demanded his attention the most now was the matter of his own escape.

  He urged his horse cruelly, knowing that this journey across plowed ground was taking the animal’s strength. He longed for a hard trail, the broad highway.

  And finally he reached the latter. Now he turned his horse’s head toward Reina de Los Angeles, for he had work to do there. There was no señorita before him on the saddle now, and the horse felt the difference.

  Señor Zorro glanced behind, and exulted to find that he was running away from the soldiers. Over the next hill, and he would be able to elude them!

  But he had to be on guard, of course, for there might be troopers in front of him, too. His excellency might have sent reinforcements to Sergeant Gonzales, or might have men watching from the tops of the hills.

  He glanced at the sky, and saw that the
moon was about to disappear behind a bank of clouds. He would have to make use of the short period of darkness, he knew.

  Down into the little valley he rode, and looked back to find that his pursuers were only at the crest of the hill. Then came the darkness, and at the proper time. Señor Zorro had a lead of half a mile on the pursuing soldiers now, but it was not his intention to allow them to chase him into the pueblo.

  He had friends in this locality. Beside the highway was an adobe hut, where there lived a native Señor Zorro had saved from a beating. Now he dismounted before the hut, and kicked against the door. The frightened native opened it.

  “I am pursued,” Señor Zorro said.

  That appeared to be all that was necessary, for the native immediately threw the door of the hut open wider. Señor Zorro led his horse inside, almost filling the crude building, and the door was hastily shut again.

  Behind it, the highwayman and the native stood listening, the former with pistol in one hand and his naked blade in the other.

  CHAPTER 33

  FLIGHT AND PURSUIT

  That the determined pursuit of Señor Zorro and his band of caballeros from the cárcel had been taken up so quickly was due to Sergeant Pedro Gonzales.

  Sergeant Gonzales had heard the shots, and had rushed from the tavern with the other troopers at his heels, glad of an excuse to escape without paying for the wine he had ordered. He had heard the shout of the jailer, and had understood it, and immediately had grasped the situation.

  “Señor Zorro is rescuing the prisoners!” he screeched. “The highwayman is in our midst again! To horse, troopers, and after him! There is a reward—”

  They knew all about the reward, especially the members of the governor’s bodyguard, who had heard his excellency rave at mention of the highwayman’s name and declare he would make a captain of the trooper who captured him or brought in his carcass.

  They rushed for their horses, swung themselves into their saddles, and dashed across the plaza toward the cárcel with Sergeant Gonzales at their head.

  They saw the masked caballeros galloping across the plaza, and Sergeant Gonzales rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand and swore softly that he had been taking too much wine. He had lied so often about Señor Zorro having a band of men at his back that here was the band materialized out of his falsehoods.

  When the caballeros split into three detachments, Sergeant Gonzales and his troopers were so near them that they observed the maneuver. Gonzales quickly made three troops of the men who followed him, and sent a troop after each band.

  He saw the leader of the caballeros turn toward San Gabriel, he recognized the leap of the great horse the highwayman rode, and he took after Señor Zorro with an exultant heart, being of a mind to capture or slay the highwayman rather than to retake any of the rescued prisoners. For Sergeant Pedro Gonzales had not forgotten the time Señor Zorro had played with him in the tavern at Reina de Los Angeles, nor had he given up the idea of taking his vengeance for it.

  He had seen Señor Zorro’s horse run before, and he wondered a bit now because the highwayman was not putting greater distance between himself and his pursuers. And Sergeant Gonzales guessed the reason—that Señor Zorro had Señorita Lolita Pulido on the saddle before him and was carrying her away.

  Gonzales was in the lead, and now and then he turned his head and shouted orders and encouragement to his troopers. The miles flew beneath them, and Gonzales was glad because he was keeping Señor Zorro in sight.

  “To Fray Felipe’s—that is where he is riding!” Gonzales told himself. “I knew that old fray was in league with the bandit! In some manner he tricked me when I sought this Señor Zorro at his hacienda before. Perhaps this highwayman has a clever hiding-place there. Ha! By the saints, I shall not be tricked again!”

  On they rode, now and then catching glimpses of the man they pursued, and always in the minds of Gonzales and his troopers were thoughts of the reward and promotion a capture would mean. Their horses were beginning to show some fatigue already, but they did not spare the animals.

  They saw Señor Zorro turn into the driveway that led to Fray Felipe’s house, and Sergeant Gonzales chuckled low down in his throat because he felt that he had guessed correctly.

  He had the highwayman now! If Señor Zorro continued to ride, he could be seen and followed because of the bright moonlight; if he stopped, Señor Zorro could not hope to cope successfully with half a score of troopers with Gonzales at their head.

  They dashed up to the front of the house and started to surround it. They saw Señor Zorro’s horse. And then they saw the highwayman himself, and Gonzales cursed because half a dozen troopers were between him and his prey, and were at him with their swords, threatening to end the business before Gonzales could reach the scene.

  He tried to force his horse into the fight. He saw Señor Zorro spring into a saddle and dash away, and the troopers after him. Gonzales, not being close, gave his attention to the other half of his duty—he bade some of his soldiers surround the house so that none could leave it.

  Then he saw Señor Zorro take the stone fence, and started in pursuit, all except the guards around the house joining him. But Sergeant Gonzales went only as far as the crest of the first hill. He noticed how the highwayman’s horse was running, and realized that he could not be overtaken. Perhaps the sergeant could gain some glory if he returned to Fray Felipe’s house and recaptured the señorita.

  The house was still being guarded when he dismounted before it, and his men reported that none had attempted to leave the building. He called two of his men to his side, and knocked on the door. Almost instantly, it was opened by Fray Felipe.

  “Are you just from bed, fray?” Gonzales asked.

  “Is it not a time of night for honest men to be abed?” Fray Felipe asked in turn.

  “It is, fray—yet we find you out of it. How does it happen that you have not come from the house before? Did we not make enough noise to awaken you?”

  “I heard sounds of combat—”

  “And you may hear more, fray, else feel the sting of a whip again, unless you answer questions swiftly and to the point. Do you deny that Señor Zorro has been here?”

  “I do not.”

  “Ha! Now we have it! You admit, then, that you are in league with this pretty highwayman, that you shield him upon occasion? You admit that, fray?”

  “I admit nothing of the sort!” Fray Felipe replied. “I never set my eyes on this Señor Zorro, to my knowledge, until a very few minutes ago.”

  “That is a likely story! Tell it to the stupid natives! But do not try to tell it to a wise trooper, fray! What did this Señor Zorro wish?”

  “You were so close upon the man’s heels, Señor, that he scarce had time to wish for anything,” Fray Felipe said.

  “Yet you had some speech with him?”

  “I opened the door at his knock, señor, the same as I opened it at yours.”

  “What said he?”

  “That soldiers were pursuing him.”

  “And he asked that you hide him, so he could escape capture at our hands?”

  “He did not.”

  “Wanted a fresh horse, did he?”

  “He did not say as much, señor. If he is such a thief as he is painted, undoubtedly he would merely have taken a horse without asking, had he wanted it.”

  “Ha! What business had he with you, then? It would be well for you to answer openly, fray!”

  “Did I say that he had business with me?”

  “Ha! By the saints—”

  “The saints are better off your lips, señor—boaster and drunkard!”

  “Do you wish to receive another beating, fray? I am riding on his excellency’s business. Do not you delay me further! What said this pretty highwayman?”

  “Nothing that I am at liberty to repeat to you, señor,” Fray Felipe said.

  Sergeant Gonzales pushed him aside roughly and entered the living-room, and his two troopers followed at his heels
.

  “Light the candelero!” Gonzales commanded his men. “Take candles, if you can find any. We search the house!”

  “You search my poor house?” Fray Felipe cried. “And what do you expect to find?” Fray Felipe asked.

  “I expect to find the piece of merchandise this pretty Señor Zorro left here, fray.”

  “What do you imagine he left?”

  “Ha! A package of clothing, I suppose! A bundle of loot! A bottle of wine! A saddle to be mended! What would the fellow leave, fray? One thing impresses me—Señor Zorro’s horse carried double when he arrived at your house, and was carrying none but Señor Zorro when he departed.”

  “And you expect to find—”

  “The other half of the horse’s load,” replied Gonzales. “Failing to find it, we may try a twist or two of your arm to see whether you can be made to speak.”

  “You would dare? You would so affront a fray? You would descend to torture?”

  “Meal mush and goat’s milk!” quoth Sergeant Gonzales. “You fooled me once in some manner, but you will not so fool me again. Search the house, troopers, and be sure that you search it well! I shall remain in this room and keep this entertaining fray company. I shall endeavor to discover what his sensations were while he was being whipped for swindling.”

  “Coward and brute!” Fray Felipe thundered. “There may come a day when persecution shall cease.”

  “Meal mush and goat’s milk!”

  “When this disorder shall end and honest men be given their just dues!” Fray Felipe cried. “When those who have founded a rich empire here shall receive the true fruits of their labor and daring instead of having them stolen by dishonest politicians and men who stand in their favor!”

  “Goat’s milk and meal mush, fray!”

  “When there shall be a thousand Señor Zorros, and more if necessary, to ride up and down El Camino Real and punish those who do wrong! Sometimes I would that I were not a fray, that I might play such a game myself!”

  “We’d run you down in short order and stretch a rope with your weight,” Sergeant Gonzales told him. “Did you help his excellency’s soldiers more, perhaps his excellency would treat you with more consideration.”