CHAPTER XVIII
THE HUT IN THE COVE
John Bedford forgot everything in those moments of wild exultation savethe fact that he was free. The miracles had begun, and the whole chainwas now complete. After three years in one cell he had left behind himforever, as he believed, the Castle of Montevideo, and he was goingstraight to his brother and powerful friends. He cast back only asingle look, and then he saw the huge dim bulk of the castle showingthrough the mists and the rain. But presently the woods shut it fromview, and he could not have seen it had he looked again. John'sexultation, the vast rebound, grew. He had escaped, and he had struckdown the enemy who had struck him. He felt equal to anything, and heforgot for the moment that the man who had rescued him in such anextraordinary way was wounded. But the man himself stopped soon.
"We'll wait here, Sir John of the Fleet Foot," he said. "Our friendswho are frolicking in this thorny Forest of Arden were to come if theyheard the sound of firing, and we must not go far away lest we missthem. Truly that was a fine and timely shot of yours, Sir John of theBold Escape, and I judged by the look of your face that you had no lovefor the man at whom you fired."
"I did not," replied John. "He beat me, when I was in chains."
The other man uttered a low whistle.
"That was a nasty thing to do, but you are even. If he's still alivehe'll have a face that will scare a dog.
"Whate'er you do Unto another, Some day that other Will do unto you.
"Bear that in mind, young sir. In the hour of triumph do not rejoicetoo much in the fall of the man who has failed, because when he achieveshis triumph and you have failed, which is likely to come to pass sometime or other, he may make some moments exceedingly bitter unto thee.And now I shall dress myself, as I think I hear the footsteps ofvisitors."
John remembered that he, too, was clad lightly, and hastily put on hisupper garments, while his friend did likewise. He now heard the steps,also, and they were rapidly coming nearer.
"Shouldn't we move?" he whispered. "Those must be Mexicans."
"No, we shouldn't move, because those are not the footsteps of Mexicans.Those sounds are made by the hardy feet of just two persons. One ofthem is a large brave German man, whose tread I would know a mile away,and the other, the lighter tread of whom is drowned in the volume ofsound made by his comrade, is a boy, a strong, healthy boy who comesfrom a little town in Kentucky, which has the same name as a big town inFrance."
John began to tremble all over. He knew what these words meant. Hisfriend uttered a low whistle, and quickly a low whistle in reply camefrom a point not twenty feet away. There was a moment of silence, thenthe approaching footsteps were resumed, the bushes were parted, and, asthe lightning flared once more across the sky, John Bedford and PhilipBedford looked into the faces of each other.
They wrung hands in the darkness that followed the lightning flash, and,after the Anglo-Saxon fashion, said brief, inconsequential words. Yetthe hearts of the two were full, and both Bill Breakstone, who had donethe last miracle, and Hans Arenberg were moved deeply.
"Your letter came, John," said Phil simply, "and we are here. These arethe best friends I ever had or that anybody ever could have. The manwho brought you out of the castle was Bill Breakstone, and the one withme is Hans Arenberg. Without them I never could have reached you in thecastle."
"You talk too much, young sir," said Bill Breakstone.
Then John suddenly remembered.
"Mr. Breakstone is wounded," he exclaimed. "We took off most of ourclothes to swim the moat and I remember seeing a red spot on his side."
"Like your brother, you talk too much," said Bill Breakstone. "It seemsto be a family failing with the Bedfords. It's a mere scratch."
"No harm iss done where none iss meant," said Arenberg sententiously."It iss also well for us soon to be away from where we now are."
"That is true," said Breakstone. "The Mexicans undoubtedly will makesome sort of a search and pursuit, though I don't think they'll carry itfar on such a night. Come on boys, I'll lead, and the reunited familywill bring up the rear. But no talking is best. You can't tell what wemight stir up."
He led the way, and the others followed in silence. They crossed avalley, reached a mountain slope and began to climb. Up they went forat least two hours, pausing at times for John to take breath and rest.Meanwhile the storm continued, with cold rain, an alternate groaning andwhistling of the wind through the valley, deep rumblings of thunder, andnow and then a bright flare of lightning. John caught only one otherglimpse of the huge, ominous bulk of the Castle of Montevideo, but itwas far below him now. He knew, too, that it was impossible for anybodyto follow a mountain trail in such darkness and storm. But, despite hisgreat joy, he was feeling an exceeding weariness of the body. The longconfinement had told heavily, but he would utter no complaint.
A half hour more, and they turned into a deep cove which led three orfour hundred yards into the Sierra. At its end stood a small cabin,built of logs and almost hidden under the overhang of the cliff.
"Welcome to our home, Sir John," said Bill Breakstone, "we have no titleto it, and it probably belonged to some Mexican sheep herder or hunter,but since our arrival none has appeared to claim it."
He threw open the door, and all went inside into the dry dark. Johnheard the door close behind him, a bar fell into place, and then thestriking of a match came to his ear. A little blue flame appeared andgrew. Arenberg, who had struck the match, lighted a pine torch, which hestuck at an angle in a hole in the wall, and a fine red flame lighted upthe whole interior of the little cabin. Cabin! It was no cabin to JohnBedford. It was a gorgeous palace, the finest that he had ever seen,and he was surrounded by the most devoted and daring friends that manever had. Had they not just proved it?
The little torch disclosed a hard earthen floor, upon which the skins ofwild animals had been spread, log walls with wooden hooks and pinsinserted here and there, evidently within recent days, a strong boardroof, rafters from which skins and some tools hung, a fireplace with astone hearth, and four narrow skin couches, three of which had beenoften occupied, the fourth never. Outside, the wind still wailed, andthe cold rain still beat upon the logs, but here it was warm, dry, andlight. The greatness of it all suddenly overwhelmed John, and he sankforward in a faint.
Phil instantly seized his brother and raised him up, but Breakstone andArenberg told him not to be alarmed, that it was merely the collapse ofa weakened frame after tremendous tension, both physical and mental.Breakstone brought water in a gourd from a pail that stood in thecorner, and soon John sat up again, very much ashamed of himself, andoffering many apologies, at all of which the others laughed.
"Considering all you've been through to-night," said Bill Breakstone,"it's a wonder that you held out so long. I wouldn't have believed thatyou could do it, if I hadn't known your brother so well. Good thing Ilearned to be an actor. I was always strong in those Spanish parts.Wide hat brim, big black cloak coming up to meet the hat brim, terriblesword at my thigh, and terrible frown behind the cloak and the hat brim.Now, Hans, I think you can light the fire on the hearth there. Nochance that anybody will see the smoke on a night like this, and there'sno reason why we shouldn't dry our clothes and have a gay party. We'vecarried through our great adventure, and we'll just royster over itawhile."
Arenberg, without another word, took down the pine torch from its holein the wall and ignited the heap of dry pine boughs that lay in thefireplace. They caught at once, crackled, and blazed pleasantly. Warmred shadows were soon cast across the floor, and a generous heat reachedthem all. They basked in it, and turned about and about, drying alltheir clothing and driving the last sign of chill from their bones.Arenberg also made coffee over the coals, and cooked venison, which theyhad in abundance. When John ate and drank in plenty, he felt that lifedid not have much more to offer. He sat on one of the skins, leanedcomfortably aga
inst the wall, and contemplated his younger brother.
"You have grown a lot, Phil," he said.
"You didn't expect him to stand still, just because you were away lockedup in a castle?" asked Bill Breakstone. "He had to grow up, so he couldcome and rescue you. Such tasks are too big for little children."
John Bedford smiled indulgently.
"It was certainly a big job," he said. "I am the one who ought toappreciate most its size and danger. It was a big thing to get throughTexas even. Of course I learned while I was a prisoner in the castlethat the Mexicans had retaken it. It made me feel mighty bad for a longtime."
Phil and Bill Breakstone looked at each other. Arenberg pushed one ofthe pine-knots back into the fire. For a little while there wassilence. Then Breakstone said:
"You tell him, Phil."
John Bedford looked in wonder at the three, one by one. Their silenceimpressed him as ominous, and he, too, was silent.
"The Mexicans have not retaken Texas, John," said Philip Bedford. "Theywill never retake Texas. They could never beat the Texans alone, andthe Texans are not alone. There has been war between the United Statesand Mexico for a year. An American army under General Taylor beat theMexican army at Palo Alto, at Resaca de la Palma, and took the city ofMonterey by storm. Then most of his army were drawn off to help GeneralScott, who is invading Mexico by the way of Vera Cruz. General Taylor,with the rest of his force, between four and five thousand men, nearlyall volunteers, many from our own state, John, and some you knew,advanced to Saltillo and beyond. He was attacked in the Pass ofAngostura by Santa Anna, the President of Mexico, with more than twentythousand men, the best of the Mexican troops, but, John, he won thevictory over odds of five to one. It was long and hard and desperate,and a half dozen times we were within an inch of losing the battle, butwe won at last, John! We won at last! And we know, because we threewere there, all through it! all day long! Bill Breakstone, HansArenberg, and I!"
John looked at them and gasped. It had all been poured upon him sosuddenly that he was overpowered.
"War between Mexico and the United States!" he exclaimed, "and we'vebeen winning battle after battle! Why, they never said a word to meabout it in the castle. De Armijo made me think that the Mexicans hadretaken Texas."
"I forgot to tell you," said Bill Breakstone to the others, "that deArmijo knocked John down, when he was chained, but John got back at himto-night when he plowed his face with a bullet. In fact, I think Johnhas the better of the bargain:
"A blow-- He'll rue it. A bullet-- That pays it.
"Now, I propose, as it's pretty near toward morning, and this is aboutthe snuggest hotel I know of anywhere in the Sierras, that John and I,who have been through a lot, go to sleep. Phil, you and Arenberg cantoss coins, or decide in any other way you choose, who's to keep watch.There's your bed, John; it's been waiting for you quite awhile."
He pointed to the skin couch that had never been occupied, and John laydown upon it. Complete relaxation of both mind and body had now come.The room was warm and dry, his friends were near, and, in two minutes,he was buried in a deep and dreamless sleep. Phil rose and looked athim. His neck and wrists were thin, his face was wasted wofully.Arenberg watched Philip with sympathy.
"Much harm has been done to him," he said, "but he will overcome it allin a month. You have fared wonderfully well in your quest, Herr Philip,and I take it as an omen that we shall do as well in mine. I come next,you know, Philip."
"It is true," said Phil, with a great stirring of the heart. "Nobodyever had such help as you and Breakstone have given to me, and now Iwill help you, and John, too, as soon as he is strong enough, to ourutmost power in whatever task you may have."
He held out his hand, and Arenberg took it in a powerful grasp.
"Now you sleep! I will watch," he said. "No, I will not let you stayawake, because I wish to do so instead. I intend to think much withmyself."
Phil saw that the German was in earnest, and he took his place on hisown couch. Soon he was asleep. Arenberg sat on a piece of wood beforethe coals which were now almost dead. He clasped his knees in hishands, and his rifle, which was between his knees, projected above hisshoulder. So long as the light from the coals endured he cast a blackand almost shapeless shadow on the wall. But the last coal went out byand by, and he sat there in the darkness, never stirring. He watchedautomatically through the faculty of hearing, but his thoughts were noton that little cabin nor any of its occupants. In the darkness hischest heaved, and a big tear from either eye rolled down his cheek. Buthe did not move. After awhile he felt the dawn, and went to the singleshuttered window, which he opened slightly.
The rain and wind had ceased, but drops of water, turned into a myriadof glittering beads by the rising sun, hung from trees and bushes. Theair of the mountains at that early hour was crisp and cold, and it feltgood to Arenberg's face. He glanced at his three comrades. They werestill absorbed by that absolute sleep which is the mortal Nirvana. ThenArenberg took from the inside of his coat something small, which helooked at for a long time. Again a big tear from either eye rolled downhis cheek and fell on the floor. But the face of Hans Arenberg, in thatbrilliant Mexican sun which now shone straight upon it, was curiouslytransformed. For the first time in many days it was illumined withhope.
"It's my turn now! It's my turn!" he murmured. "We have succeeded ineverything so far, and we will succeed again. I feel it. All the omensare good."
There is something mystic in the German nature, a feeling derived,perhaps, from the unknown ages passed by the Teutonic tribes in the darkforests of the Baltic. They were as prolific as the Greeks in seers andpriestesses, and some of this feeling was in Arenberg now, as he gazedat the dripping forest and the blazing sun rising over a peak tenthousand feet high. Below him he knew lay the Castle of Montevideo, butbefore him the mountains were unrolled, peak after peak, and ridge afterridge. To his German mind came visions of Valhalla and the great godsthat were.
Hans Arenberg yet felt the great uplift of the spirit. The premonitionof success, of a triumphant end to his quest was very strong within him.He kissed the little package and replaced it within the inside of hiswaistcoat. Then he looked again at his comrades. They were still inValhalla.
The German was very kindly and very pitiful. He had noticed the wastedframe of John Bedford, and he knew how much he needed sleep. BillBreakstone, too, had gone through a tremendous ordeal, and Phil Bedfordwas but a boy, who had waited, tense and strained, all through thenight.
"Let them sleep," murmured Hans Arenberg. "I will still watch."
He left the window open a little so that the fresh air might come in,and resumed his seat. The other three slept on soundly. An hour or twolater he opened the door softly and went out into the cove, which hescouted carefully. It was as silent and desolate as if man had neverbeen there. At forty yards the cabin itself was invisible in thefoliage and against the dark, volcanic cliff. The German was quite surethat no one would come, but, for precaution, he examined every bush andprojection of rock. Then he climbed one of the cliffs, and, shelteringhimself well, looked down the valley. There, far below, was the huge,honey-colored Castle of Montevideo, seeming singularly vivid and near inthe intense sunlight. Arenberg thought that he could make out a figureor two on its walls, but he was not sure. He also examined the slopes,but he could not detect human life. Then he returned to the cabin andfound his comrades still sound asleep. Arenberg smiled.
"Let them sleep on," he murmured, "until the sleep that is in them isexhausted." He opened the door a little in order that he might let inmore fresh air, and also because it gave him a complete view down thevalley. No one could approach the cabin without being seen by HansArenberg, who had uncommonly good eyes.
The German sat there all the morning and listened to the hours as theyticked themselves away. He listened literally, and he heard the tickingliterally, because he carried a large silver watch in his waistcoatpocket
, and in the dead silence, he could hear it very well. Hiscomrades slept on, each on his couch. Once Arenberg rose and looked atJohn Bedford.
"A fine young man," he murmured. "He iss worthy of his brother."
It was fully an hour after noon when Bill Breakstone began to squirmabout on his couch and yawn mightily.
Then he opened his eyes, sat up, and stared at Hans Arenberg, who satplacidly by the fireplace, looking down the valley.
"Hans!" said Bill Breakstone.
Arenberg looked at him and smiled.
"I'm thinking," said Bill Breakstone, "that we've overslept ourselves abit. I guess from the looks of the light there at the door that the sunmust be up at least an hour."
"It has been up seven hours," replied Arenberg.
"Then we're that much ahead," said Bill Breakstone calmly, "and at leastone of those two has needed it badly."
He looked at the sleeping brothers.
"It iss so," said Arenberg. "The captive who iss a captive no longeriss, I take it, a good youth, like his brother."
"He surely is," said Breakstone with emphasis, "and I have given him thehonor of knighthood, along with Phil. Besides, he's as smart as a steeltrap. He read the meaning of the thread that we sent him, and he dideverything else exactly as we wished. It's all the more wonderfulbecause so long a time in prison is apt to make one dull and stupid insome ways. Anything happen on your long watch, Hans?"
"Nothing. I made a scout all the way up the cove. I am sure there issno human being except ourselves on this mountain."
"I move that we boil a little coffee and fry a little venison for theyoungsters. John, in particular, needs it, because he's got to be builtup. I don't think there's any danger."
"Then we'll light the fire and let the cooking wake them up."
John Bedford, in a dream, as it were, felt a delicious aroma in hisnostrils. It was singularly pleasant to a poor prisoner in a bleakstone cell in the Castle of Montevideo, and he did not wish to destroythe illusion. In the early morning the air that came through theloophole was very cold, and there was no reason why he should rise.Perhaps he was really dreaming, and, since it was such a pleasant dream,he would let it run on. But that odor in his nostrils grew more andmore powerful, and it was not like the odor of the frijoles andtortillas that Diego brought him. He also heard, or thought he heard,the voices of men, and not one of them bore any resemblance to the harshMexican tones of Diego. Then he remembered it all, and the truth camein such a sudden flood of delight that he sat up abruptly and lookedaround that wonderful cabin, the finest cabin in the world.
Arenberg had just brought the coffee to a boiling point, the strips ofvenison, under the deft handling of Bill Breakstone, were just becomingcrisp. Phil was coming in with a canteen of fresh water, and at thewide-open door, through which he might pass as he pleased, the sunshinewas entering like a golden shower.
"Morning, Sir John the Sleeper," said Bill Breakstone cheerily. "It'swell along in the afternoon, but, if you were to ask me, I'd tell youthat you hadn't slept a minute too long. Phil here has been up onlyfive minutes before you, but, by running for the water, he's trying tomake you believe that he's an early riser."
John said not a word, but rose to his feet--they had all lain down fullydressed--and looked at the open door with a gaze so fixed andconcentrated that all stared curiously at him. Something was working inJohn's mind, something deep and vital. He walked in a perfectlystraight line across the cabin floor until he came within a foot of theopen door. Then he stood there for a little space, gazing out.
The curiosity of the others deepened. What was passing in his mind?But John said never a word. Instead, he stepped out in the sunshine andcrisp air, went two or three yards, and then came back again into thecabin. But he did not stay there. He went out once, came back oncemore, and repeated the round trip four more times. All the while he saidnever a word, and, at each successive trip, the look of pleasure on hisface grew. At the sixth that look was complete, and he turned to thethree who were staring at him open-eyed and open-mouthed.
"I'm not crazy, as you think, not the least bit of it," he said. "It'sbeen three years since I could go out of a door and come in at it as Ipleased. I wanted to prove to myself that it was no dream, and to enjoyit at the same time. I'll never have such an acute joy again in thisworld, I suppose. As you haven't been where I've been, you'll neverknow what it is to go in and come out when you like."
"We don't know, but we can guess," said Phil.
A little lump came into the throat of Bill Breakstone.
"I was never cooped up like that," he said, "but if I were, I guess Icouldn't stand it. But the coffee and the venison are ready, and whilewe set to and keep at it, Phil, you tell your brother how it all cameabout."
Phil was willing. He was so full of the story himself that he wasanxious John should hear it all. He recounted how the letter hadreached him at Paris in Kentucky, his journey to New Orleans, and hissuccessive meetings there with Arenberg, Middleton, and Bill Breakstone;how they had joined the Santa Fe train and their encounter with theComanches, led by Santana and Black Panther, the deeds of de Armijo,their long trail southward to join Taylor's army, and a description, asfar as he saw it amid the flame and smoke, of the great battle of BuenaVista. He told of the sharp lava, the pass, and of the woman at thewell who had given the cup of water to the weary prisoner who was but aboy.
"I remember her, I remember her well," said John, a thrill of gratitudeshowing in his tone. "I believe I'd have died if it hadn't been forthat water, the finest that anybody ever tasted. I knew from the voicethat it was a woman."
"We felt sure then," continued Phil, "that we were on the right trail,and we believed that, with patience and method, we'd be sure to find youif you were living. We knew that the letter had been brought to theTexas frontier by Antonio Vaquez, a driver who had received it in turnfrom one Porfirio, a vaquero, and we knew from your letter that you wereconfined in some great stone prison or castle. We learned ofMontevideo, which is perhaps the greatest castle in Mexico, andeverything pointed to it as the place.
"The Mexican army retreated in great haste southward after Buena Vista,in order to meet Scott, who was advancing on Mexico by the way of VeraCruz. That left the country comparatively clear for us, and we camethrough the mountains, until we saw the Castle of Montevideo. When wesaw it, we believed still more strongly that this was the place, but weknew that the biggest part of our work was before us. We would have tospy, and spy, and keep on spying before we could act. Any mule driveror sheepherder might carry news of us, and we must have a securehiding-place as a basis. After a long search we found this cabin, whichI don't think had been occupied for several years. We soon fixed it upso it was comfortable, as you can now see. There's a little spring atthe west edge of the cove, and on the other side of the ridge there's alittle valley with water and grass, but with walls so steep that a horsewon't climb 'em unless he's led. Our horses are there now, havingperhaps the best time of their lives.
"When we were located, good and snug, we began to spy. I believed afterwe met the woman at the well that fortune was favoring us. Arenberghere talked a lot about the spirits of the forest and the stream, someold heathen mythology of his, to which Bill and I didn't pay anyattention. But anyway, we had luck. We scouted about the castle forweeks, but we didn't learn a thing, except that de Armijo was nowgovernor there. We could find no more trace of you than if you had beenon the moon.
"At last our lucky day came. We ran squarely upon a good-looking youngMexican, a vaquero. There wasn't time for us to get away or for him toget away. So we, being the more numerous, seized him. I suppose hethought he was going to be killed at once, as we were Americans, lookingpretty tough from exposure and hardships, and so to make a play on ourgood feelings--Bill Breakstone could understand his Spanish--he saidthat once he'd tried to help a Gringo, a prisoner, in the great castlein the valley. He said he'd carried a letter from him, asking for he
lp,and that the prisoner was not much more than a boy, taken in a raid fromTexas three years ago.
"It flashed over us all at once that we had found the right man.Everything fitted too well together to permit of a mistake, and you canbelieve that we treated Porfirio, the vaquero, the finest we knew how,and made him feel that he had fallen into the hands of the best friendsin the world. Were you still alive? We waited without drawing breathfor the answer. You were still alive he answered, and well, so far as aprisoner could be. He knew that positively from his mother, Catarina,who was a cook at the castle, although he himself would not stay there,as, like a sensible man, he liked the mountains and the plains and thefree life. He did not tell us of the blow that de Armijo had given you,perhaps because Catarina had said nothing of it to him, but we learnedthat he hated de Armijo, who had once struck him when he was at thecastle, for some trifle or other--it seems that de Armijo had thestriking habit--and after that we soon made our little plot. Catarina,of course, was the center of it, and her duties as a cook gave her thechance.
"It was Catarina who put the thread in the tamale. She might have putthe letter there, but the writing on it would have been effaced, andeven if it could have remained she did not dare. If the paper had beendiscovered by the Mexicans, she, of course, would have been declaredguilty, but thread, even a package of it, might have found its way intothe loose Mexican cooking, and if it had been discovered none of thesentinels or officers could have made anything out of such a slenderthing. We trusted to your shrewdness that you would drop the thread outof the window, because there was nothing else to do with it, and youdidn't fail us."
"But who tied the note on it?" asked John.
"Catarina, again--that is, she was at the end of the chain, Porfirio wasin the middle, and we were at the other or far end. He passed theletter in to her--he works about the castle at times--and she tied it onthe end of the thread. The key and the dagger reached you by the sameroute. Then we knew that, although you might unlock the door of yourcell, you could never go outside the castle without the aid of some onewithin. For that reason we told you the night on which to unlock it, andthe very hour, in order that the right man might be waiting for you atthe head of the stairway. Bill Breakstone had to be that man, becausehe can speak Spanish and the Mexican dialects, and because, lucky foryou, he's been an actor; often to amuse others he has played parts likethe one that he played last night in such deadly earnest.
"Catarina got the keys--there are duplicates to all the cells--so wesent that up early, and on the day before your escape she stole the oneto the big gate that guards the stairway. It was easy enough to stealthe clothes for Breakstone, take him in as a servant, and his nerve andyours did the rest. But we must never forget Catarina and her sonPorfirio, the vaquero. Without them we could have done nothing."
"I'm prouder of it than of any other thing in which I ever took part,"said Bill Breakstone.
"It was not one miracle, it was a chain of them," said John Bedford.
"Whatever it was, here we all are," said Phil.
The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista Page 18
