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CHAPTER III
THE CALLI
Much as the unknown had hesitated in offering shelter to Don Pedro de Luna and his daughter, – and we know in what terms the offer had been finally made, – he showed himself equally anxious, as soon as his decision was made, to quit that part of the forest where the scene passed which we have recorded in our preceding chapter. His eyes wandered about continually with a disquietude he took no pains to conceal. He turned his head repeatedly towards the hillock, as if he expected to see some horrible apparition suddenly rising from its summit.
In the state the girl was in, to awaken her would have been to commit a grave imprudence, seriously compromising her health. In accordance with orders delivered in a dry tone by the unknown, the peones of Don Pedro, and the hacendero himself, hastened to cut down some branches, in order to fashion a litter, which they covered with dry leaves. Over these they spread their zarapés, of which they deprived themselves in order to make a softer couch for their young mistress.
These preparations finished, the girl was raised with great precaution, and gently placed upon the litter.
Of the three men who accompanied Don Pedro, two were peones, or domestic Indians; the third was the capataz (bailiff) of the hacendero.
The capataz was an individual of about five feet eight, with broad shoulders, and legs bowed by the constant habit of riding. He was extraordinarily thin; but one could truly say of him, he was nothing but muscle and sinew. His strength was wonderful. This man, called Luciano Pedralva, was devoted, body and soul, to his master, whom, and his family, he and his had served for nearly two centuries.
His features, bronzed by the vicissitudes of the weather, although not striking, had an expression of intelligence and astuteness, to which his eyes, black and well opened, added an appearance of energy and courage beyond the common. Don Pedro de Luna had the greatest confidence in this man, whom he considered more in the light of a friend than a servitor.
When the girl had been placed upon the litter, the peones lifted it; while Don Pedro and the capataz placed themselves one on the right, the other on the left of the patient, in order to guard her from the branches of trees and creepers.
At a mute sign from the unknown, who had remounted, the little troop leisurely began its march.
Instead of reentering the forest, the unknown continued to advance towards the hillock, the base of which was speedily attained. A narrow pathway serpentined along its side in an incline sufficiently gentle. The little troop entered upon it without hesitation.
They ascended in this manner fur some minutes, following ten or a dozen yards behind the unknown, who rode on in front by himself. Suddenly, on arriving at an angle of the road, round which their guide had already disappeared, a whistle rent the air, so sharp that the Mexicans halted involuntarily, not knowing whether to advance or retreat.
"What is the meaning of this?" murmured Don Pedro anxiously.
"Treachery, without a doubt," said the capataz casting his eyes searchingly around.
But all remained quiet about them; no change was perceptible in the landscape, which looked as lonely as ever.
Nevertheless, in a few minutes, more whistling, similar to the first they had heard, was audible in different directions at the same lime, answering evidently to a signal which had been made.
At that moment the unknown reappeared; his face pale, his gestures constrained, and a prey to the most vivid emotion.
"It is you who have willed this," said he; "I wash my hands of what may happen."
"Tell us, at all events, what peril threatens us," replied Don Pedro, in agitation.
"Ah!" said the other, in a voice of subdued passion,
"Do I know it myself? And what would it aid you to know? Would you be the less lost for that? You refused to believe me. Now, pray to God to help you; for never danger threatened you more terrible than that which hangs over your head!"
"But why these perpetual reservations? Be frank; we are men, vive Dios, and, great as the peril may be, we shall know how to meet it bravely."
"You are mad! Can one man oppose a hundred? You will fall, I tell you; but it is to yourself alone you must address your reproaches; it is yourself who have persisted in braving the Tigercat in his lair."
"Alas," cried the hacendero in accents of horror, "what name is that you have uttered?"
"The name of the man in whose clutches you are at this very moment."
"What! the Tigercat? That redoubtable bandit, whose numberless crimes have shocked the land for so long; that man who seems endowed with a diabolical power to accomplish the atrocious deeds with which he incessantly sullies himself; – is that monster near us?"
"He is; and I warn you to be prudent, for perhaps he hears you at this moment, although invisible to your eyes and mine."
"What do I care?" energetically exclaimed Don Pedro. "Away with caution, since we are once in the power of this demon; he is a man devoid of pity, and my life is no longer my own."
"What do you know about it, Señor Don Pedro de Luna?" answered a mocking voice.
The hacendero trembled, and recoiled a step, uttering a stifled cry.
The Tigercat, bounding with the agility of the animal from which he took his name, had leaped upon the summit of an elevated rock which overhung the pathway some distance off, and now dropped lightly on the ground two paces from Don Pedro.
There was an instant of terrible silence. The two men, thus placed face to face, their eyes flashing, their lips compressed with rage, examined each other with ardent curiosity. It was the first time the hacendero had seen the terrible partisan, the fame of whose thirst for blood had reached the most ignorant villagers in the land, and who for thirty years had spread terror over the Mexican frontiers.
We will give, in a few words, the portrait of this man, who is destined to play an important part in our history.
The Tigercat was a species of Colossus, six feet high; his broad shoulders and limbs, from which the muscles stood out in marble rigidity, showed that, though long past the prime of life, his strength still existed in all its integrity; his long locks, white as the snows on Coatepec, fell in disorder on his shoulders, and mingled with the grizzly beard that covered his breast. His forehead was broad and open; he had the eye of the eagle, under the brows of the lion; his whole person offered, in a word, a complete type of the man of the desert, – grand, strong, majestic, and implacable. Although his skin was stained by every inclemency of weather till it had almost acquired the colour of brick, it was nevertheless easy to recognise, in the clearly defined lines of his face, that this man belonged to the race of whites.
His dress lay midway between that of the Mexican and of the redskin; for although he wore the zarapé, his mitasses, in two pieces, worked with hairs attached here and there, and his moccasins of different colours, embroidered with porcupine quills and ornamented with glass beads and hawks' bells, showed his preference for the Indians, to whose customs, by the by, he seemed to have entirely adapted his mode of life.
A large scalping knife, a hatchet, a bullet bag, and powder horn, were slung from a girdle of wild beast's skin, drawn tightly above his hips.
One thing must not be forgotten, – a singularity in a white man, – a white-headed eagle's plume was placed above his right ear, as if this man arrogated to himself the dignity of chief of an Indian tribe.
Lastly, he held in his hand a magnificent American rifle, damaskeened, and most skilfully inlaid with silver.
Such is the physical portrait of the man to whom white hunters and redskins had given the name of Tigercat; a name he deserved in every respect, if hearsay had not belied him, and if only half the stories reported of him were true.
As to the character of this strange being, we will abstain from dwelling upon it for the present. We are persuaded the scenes which follow will enable us to appreciate it correctly.
Although struck with surprise at the apparition – as sudden as it was unexpected – of the dreaded freebooter, Don Pedro was not long in recalling his presence of mind.
"You appear to know me much better than I know you," replied he coolly; "but if half the things I have heard reported about you be true, I can only expect, on your part, treatment similar to that which all unhappy persons encounter who fall into your hands."
The Tigercat smiled sarcastically.
"And do you not dread this treatment?" he asked.
"For myself, personally, no!" answered Don Pedro disdainfully.
"But," continued the freebooter, with a glance towards the wounded lady, "for the young girl?"
The hacendero trembled; a livid pallor overspread his features.
"You cannot mean what you are saying," was his answer; "for the honour of humanity, I will not think so. The Apaches themselves, fierce as they are, feel their rage vanish before the feebleness of woman."
"Have I not among the dwellers in cities the reputation of being fiercer than the fierce Apaches, – even than the very beasts?"
"Let us end this," replied Don Pedro haughtily; "since I have been fool enough, in spite of repeated warnings, to place myself in your hands, dispose of me as you think fit; but deliver me from the torture I undergo in conversing with you."
The Tigercat frowned; he struck the ground forcibly with the butt of his rifle, muttering some unintelligible words; but, by an extreme effort of his will, his features instantaneously resumed their habitual imperturbability, every trace of emotion vanished from his voice, and he answered, in the calmest tone:
"In beginning the conversation, about which you seem to care so little, caballero, I said to you, 'What do you know about it?'"
"Well?" said the hacendero, surprised and overcome, in spite of his efforts, by the strange change in the dreaded speaker.
"Well," replied the latter, "I repeat the phrase, not, as you may suppose, in mockery, but simply to elicit your frank opinion of me."
"That opinion can be of little value to you, I presume."
"More than you may imagine. But why these words? Answer me!"
The hacendero remained mute for a time. The Tigercat, his eyes fixed steadily upon him, watched him attentively.
As to the hunter who had been almost forced to consent to serve Don Pedro de Luna as guide, his astonishment was extreme. Believing himself to be thoroughly acquainted with the character of the freebooter, he could not understand the scene at all, and inwardly asked himself what this feigned courtesy of the Tigercat would end in.
Don Pedro himself argued quite differently on the bandit's sentiments; right or wrong, he fancied he had perceived an accent of sad sincerity in the tone in which the last words had been addressed to him.
"Since you absolutely desire it," said he, "I will reply frankly: I believe your heart to be not so cruel as you would have it supposed; and I imagine that this conviction, which you inwardly possess, makes you extremely unhappy; for, notwithstanding the barbarous acts with which they reproach you, other crimes have entered your thoughts, before the execution of which you have recoiled, in spite of the pitiless ferocity they attribute to you."
The Tigercat seemed about to speak.
"Do not interrupt me," continued the hacendero hastily; "I know that I am treading upon a volcano; but you have my promise to speak frankly, and, willing or not willing, you must hear me to the end. Most of mankind are the architects of their own fortunes in this world; you have not escaped the common lot. Gifted with an energetic character, with vivid passions, you have not sought to overcome these passions; you have suffered yourself to be overcome by them, and thus, fall after fall, you have reached that depth in which you are now lost; and yet all good feeling is not utterly dead in you."
A smile of contempt flickered over the lips of the old man.
"Do not smile at me," the hacendero went on; "the very question you have put proves my assertion. Leading in the wilderness the life of the plundering savage, hating society, which has cast you off, you still hanker after the opinion the world forms of you. And why? Because that sentiment of justice, which God has planted in the hearts of all, revolts in you at the universal reprobation heaped upon your name. It has roused your shame. The man who can still be ashamed of himself, criminal as he may be, is very close to repentance; for the voice that cries aloud in his heart is the voice of awakening remorse."
Although Don Pedro had ceased speaking for some time, the Tigercat still seemed to be listening to his words; but suddenly lifting his head proudly, he cast a mocking glance around him, and burst into a laugh, dry and hard as that which Goethe ascribes to Mephistopheles.
This laugh cut the hacendero to the heart. He comprehended that the evil instincts of the freebooter had resumed their sway over the better thoughts which, for a moment, had seemed to assert their mastery.
After this bout of laughter, the countenance of the Tigercat resumed its usual rigid immobility.
"Good!" cried he in a tone of apparent glee, which did by no means deceive Don Pedro; "I expected a sermon, and find I was not mistaken. Well, at the risk of sinking in your estimation, – or, to speak more truly, in order to flatter your self-esteem by leaving you in the belief that you judge my feelings correctly, – I decree that you and your followers return to your Hacienda de las Norias de San Antonio, not only without the loss of a hair, but even as partakers of my hospitality. Does not this decision astonish you? You were far from expecting it."
"Not so; it is exactly what I anticipated."
"Indeed!" said he, with astonishment; "Then if I offer you the hospitality of my calli, you will accept it?"
"And why not, if the offer is made in good faith?"
"Then come without fear; I pledge you my word that you nor yours need fear any injury on my part."
"I follow you," said Don Pedro.
But the unknown had watched with increasing anxiety the erratic course of this conversation, and advancing abruptly in front of, and extending his arms towards, the hacendero—
"Stop, as you value your life!" he cried in a voice trembling with secret emotion. "Stop! Do not let yourself be deceived by the assumed benevolence of this man; he is spreading a snare for you; his offer conceals a treason."
The Tigercat drew himself up to his full height, stared disdainfully at the speaker, and replied, in an accent of supreme majesty:
"Your senses wander, boy; this man runs no risk in confiding in me. Granted that there are many things I do not respect in this world, still there is at least one which I have always respected, and have suffered no one to doubt, – my word, – my word, which I have given to this caballero. Come! Let us pass; the young woman whom you have succoured so opportunely is not yet out of danger; her state demands attentions which are beyond your power to afford."
The unknown trembled; his dark-blue eyes flashed, his lips parted as if to answer; but he remained silent, and retired a few paces, knitting his brow in concentrated passion.
"Moreover," imperturbably continued the freebooter, "whatever force may lie at your disposal in other parts of the wilderness, you know that here I am all-powerful, and that here my will is law. Leave me to act as I please. Do not force me to measures I should abhor; for if I raised but a finger I could tame your fool's pride."
"I know," said the young man, "that I am powerless; but beware how you treat these strangers, who placed themselves under my protection; for I shall know how to take my revenge."
"Yes, yes," said the Tigercat drearily; "I know you would not hesitate to revenge yourself even on me, if you fancied you had a cause. But I care not; I am master here."
"I shall follow you even into your haunt; think not I intend to desert these strangers now they are in your hands."
"As you please; I do not forbid you to accompany them; on the contrary, I should regret your leaving them."
The unknown held his peace, smiling disdainfully.
"Come," resumed the Tigercat, turning to the hacendero.
The troop began again to ascend the hillock, following in the footsteps of the old freebooter, close to whom rode their former guide.
After some turnings and windings in the path, of more or less abruptness, some of which caused the Mexicans no little difficulty, the Tigercat turned towards the hacendero, and addressed him in a voice perfectly free from embarrassment:
"I beg you to excuse my guiding you over such villainous roads; unfortunately they are the only ones leading to my dwelling. It is at hand; in a few minutes we shall be there."
"But I see no traces of habitation," replied Don Pedro, vainly, scanning the country in all directions.
"True," said the Tigercat, with a smile; "nevertheless, we are hardly an hundred paces from the end of our journey; and I can assure you the abode to which I am leading you would harbour a hundred times our present numbers."
"I have not much idea where this dwelling is to be found, unless it be subterranean, as I begin to suspect."
"You have almost guessed it. The place I inhabit, if not subterranean in the strict sense of the word, is at least a dwelling covered by the ground. Few have entered it to leave it again safe and sound, as you shall."
"So much the worse," retorted roundly the hacendero; "so much the worse for them – and for you."
The Tigercat frowned, but immediately replied, in the light and careless tone he had affected for the last few minutes:
"Look you, I will clear up this mystery. Listen; the story is interesting enough. When the Aztecs quitted Azlin, which signifies 'the country of herons,' to conquer Anahuac, or 'the country between the waters,' their peregrinations were long, extending over several centuries. Disheartened at times by long travel, they halted, founded cities, in which they installed themselves as if they never intended to abandon the place they had chosen; and, perhaps with the object of leaving behind them ineffaceable traces of their passage through the wild countries they traversed, they constructed pyramids. Hence the numerous ruins littering the soil of Mexico, and the teocalis one meets with occasionally, – last and mournful vestiges of a people that has disappeared. These teocalis built on a system of incredible solidity far from crumbling under the strenuous embrace of time, have ended in becoming a part of the ground which supported them, and so completely, that there is often difficulty in recognising them. I can give you no better proof of my assertion than what you have now before you. The elevation you are now ascending is not, as you might suppose, a hill caused by some perturbation of the earth, – it is an Aztec teocali."
"A teocali!" exclaimed Don Pedro, in astonishment.
"It is, indeed," continued the freebooter; "but so many centuries have elapsed since the day it was built, that, thanks to the vegetable matter incessantly conveyed by the winds, nature has apparently resumed her rights, and the Aztec watchtower has become a green hill. You are doubtless aware that the teocalis are hollow?"
"I am aware of it," answered the hacendero.
"It is in the interior of this one I have fixed my dwelling. See, we have reached it. Allow me to show you the way into it."
In fact, the travellers had arrived at a kind of coarse portal – a Cyclopean construction – which gave admittance to a subterranean building, in which a profound obscurity prevailed, forbidding any estimate of its dimensions.
The Tigercat stopped, and gave a peculiar whistle. Immediately a dazzling light broke forth from the interior, and illuminated it in all its vastness.
"Let us enter," said the freebooter, preceding his companions.
Without hesitation Don Pedro prepared to follow, after making a sign to his attendants, warning them to conceal their rising fears.
For a moment the unknown found himself, so to speak, alone with the hacendero, and bending swiftly down, whispered softly in his ear, "Be prudent; you are entering the tiger's den."
Saying this, he rapidly left them, as he feared the freebooter might perceive that he was giving a last word of warning to the stranger.
But, good or bad, the advice came too late: hesitation would have been folly, for flight was impossible.
On all sides, on every jutting rock, appeared as by enchantment, the dark shadows of a host of persons, who had started up around the strangers without their understanding whence they came, so stealthy had been their approach.
The Mexicans entered, then, although not without feelings of dread, into the terrible cavern, whose mouth opened yawning before them. The building was vast, the walls were lofty.
After proceeding for about ten minutes, the Mexicans found themselves in a species of rotunda, in the centre of which a huge brazier was flaming; four long corridors crossed the rotunda at right angles. The Tigercat, still followed by the travellers, entered one of these. He stopped on reaching a door formed of a reed hurdle.
"Make yourselves at home," said he; "your lodgings consists of two chambers, which have no communication with the rest of the cave. By my orders you will be supplied with food, with wood to make a fire, and torches of ocote to give you light."
"I thank you for these attentions," replied Don Pedro. "I had little reason to expect them."
"And why not? Do you think that I do not know how to practise Mexican hospitality, in its fullest extent, whenever it suits me?"
"Sir!" said the hacendero, with a gesture of deprecation.
"Silence!" said the bandit, interrupting him; "You are my guests for the night. Sleep in peace; nothing shall disturb your rest. In an hour I will send you a potion for the lady to drink. We shall meet again tomorrow." And, bowing with an ease and courtesy little expected by Don Pedro from such a man, the Tigercat took his leave and quitted the chamber.
For a few seconds the step resounded under the dark vault of the corridor; then it was silenced. The travellers were alone, and the hacendero determined to investigate the chambers prepared for them.
