Kitabı oku: «The Bandolero: or, A Marriage among the Mountains», sayfa 13
Chapter Thirty Eight.
The Swing Bridge
I stood for some time chafing, irresolute.
There seemed no help for it, but complying with the brigand’s request. The log cabin could not be successfully stormed without a fearful sacrifice of the lives of my men – which I was unwilling to make.
Not but that they were willing – one and all of them. Stung by the insulting tone of the robber-chief, they were ready to rush forward, defiant of death, and die in the act of obtaining vengeance.
The vile threat still ringing in their ears alone restrained them – as it did myself. No one doubted that the monster meant what he had said; and we knew that, if driven to desperation, he would carry out his atrocious design.
There was no alternative but to make terms with him – the best we could obtain.
Stepping back behind the trees, and summoning around me half a dozen of my most experienced men, we proceeded to discuss the points of capitulation.
No words were wasted. Tortured by the thought of that loved form still trembling in the loathsome embrace of the brigand, I lost no time in taking the opinions of my comrades.
As my voice ruled the council, they coincided with my own; which was: that the robbers should be permitted to leave the place without further molestation – their captives to remain with us.
To let these scoundrels escape, after having them so completely in our power, was a source of the bitterest chagrin to every one of our party It was like abandoning the object of our expedition. But, from the high tone taken by Carrasco, I could tell that less liberal terms would be rejected; and I was far from being confident of his compliance with these. I had a thought – shared by my comrades – that there was still something behind, and that another trick was intended to be played upon us. In the speeches addressed to us, there was an ambiguity we could ill understand. Despite his professed fearlessness, the robber-chief could not but be sensible of the danger he was in; and the sang froid displayed by him was scarcely reconcilable with the situation.
Perhaps at this moment he was in the act of perpetrating some piece of strategy – some villainous ruse?
We could not think what it might be, nor even that any was possible; and therefore no one gave speech to the vague suspicion, though all felt it. It was only as a presentiment – and for this reason remained unspoken.
It had the effect, however, of urging us to hasten our deliberations, and bring them to a more speedy conclusion.
The terms settled, I stepped once more to the front – with the intention of making them known to the enemy.
There was no one in sight; but I supposed that the bandit was still upon the housetop – crouching below the level of the parapet.
I shouted to attract his attention.
There was no response, save the echoes of my own voice, that reverberated in duplicate along the twin cliffs of the chasm.
I shouted a second time, louder than before.
Still only echoes – mingling with the cries of a caracara eagle, that soared scared-like into the air.
Again I put forth my voice – calling the robber by his name, and summoning him to listen to our proposal.
But there was no answer – not even a responding exclamation!
Outside the hut there was heard the hoarse roaring of the torrent, that rose continuously from below – above, the caracara still repeating its shrill screech; but inside there was only silence – ominous, deathlike, appalling!
I could bear the suspense no longer.
Directing one half of the men to keep their places – and cover our approach with their rifles – with the other half I started towards the dwelling.
With a rapid rush we reached it – coming to a stop in front of the doorway.
There was no need for such haste. We were permitted to make approach unmolested. No shout heard – not a shot fired – not a missile hurled from above!
We stayed not to give expression to our surprise. The door was instantly assailed; and, before the strokes of the Collin’s axe, soon gave way – going inside with a crash.
We entered in a confused crowd – unopposed, not caring for opposition. We did not expect it. Despite its improbability, we were more than half prepared to find the fortress forsaken.
And so did we find it. The bandits had gone off; and, O God, they had again carried their captives along with them!
There was no mystery about their disappearance. The mode by which they had made escape – as well as the way taken – was before our eyes the instant we entered the hut.
There was another doorway at the back – with a door upon it, standing slightly ajar.
Hastening across the floor, and drawing it wide open, I looked out.
At a glance everything was accounted for.
A swing bridge (puente-hamaca), constructed of llianas, with sticks laid across, extended over the chasm. One end was attached to the door post; the other to a tree standing out from the opposite cliff.
At its farther extremity were two men, engaged as if hammering upon an anvil. But instead of hammers their tools were machetés; and I saw they were hacking at the suspenders of the bridge.
They succeeded in completing their task – in spite of the shots fired to prevent them.
It was the last act of their lives. Both went headlong into the abyss below; but along with their bodies, went the bridge they had been so eager in destroying!
Mingling with their last cries came a peal of laughter from the opposite side of the chasm. It would have sounded fiendish enough without this. It was from the throat of Torreano Carrasco!
I saw him standing upon the cliff – near the point of a projecting rock. He was not using it as a screen. He was sheltered as before. Mercedes was still in front of him. His arm was around her waist. He was holding her in a hug!
Near at hand was her sister Dolores – shielding a second of the ruffians in a similar manner!
“Hola!” cried the robber-chief, intentionally restraining his laughter, and speaking in a tone of loud exultation. “Hola! mio amigo! Very clever of you to have made your way into my mountain mansion? And so quick you’ve been about opening the door? For all that, you see you are too late. Never mind. You can make your morning call upon some other occasion; when perhaps you may find me at home. Meanwhile I have some business with this lady – the Doña Mercedes Villa-Señor – that will carry us a little further up the mountain. Should you want to see her again, you may come after —if you can!”
Another peal of coarse laughter – in which his comrades, hidden behind the rocks, were heard to join – interrupted his taunting speech.
“Hasta luego!” he again cried out. “Good morning, noble captain! I leave you to your matins; while I go to enjoy a little stroll in company with the sweet Mercedes. Va con Dios – o’ si gusta V. al Demonio!” (Go with God, or to the Devil, if you like it better!)
At the close of this profane speech, he commenced making approach to the rock, taking Mercedes along with him.
Rifle in hand I watched his movements, with an earnestness I cannot describe. The feverish anxiety, with which the stalker regards the shifting of the stag, can give but a faint idea of that stirring within me.
I had hopes that the coward might become separated from the fair form he was using as a shield. Six inches would have satisfied me: for his last brutal innuendo proclaimed a terrible emergency; and with six inches of his carcase clear I should have risked the shot.
But, no! He did not allow me even this trifling chance. He seemed to divine my intent; and inch by inch, keeping her body straight between us – O God, to see her in that swarth embrace! – he sidled behind the stone!
The other followed his example, taking Dolores; and before another word could be spoken, both robbers and captives had passed out of sight!
The instant after, half a score of hats started suddenly out of the bushes, that skirted the edge of the cliff; and we were saluted by a volley from a like number of escopetas.
A rifleman, standing in the door by my side, threw up his arms with a shriek, and fell forward upon the stoup.
As I caught hold, to hinder him from going over the cliff, something hot came spurting against my cheek.
It was the life-blood of my comrade, who had been killed by the bullet of an escopeta.
I saw that I was dealing with a dead body; and desisted from the struggle to sustain it.
It glided from my grasp, and fell with a heavy plash upon the swift water below!
My men were by this time more than half mad. It needed not the death of their comrade to excite them to frantic action. The sight of the captive ladies; the disappointment caused by our being unable to rescue them – after supposing ourselves sure of it – and perhaps, as much as anything else, the trick that had been played upon them – rendered one and all thirsty for vengeance.
I need not say that I shared this thirst – so much that I no longer cared for consequences, and had lost even the perception of danger.
I stood upon the projecting doorstep; not looking after the body which had gone below, but across the chasm, in hopes of getting sight of a brigand. Any one now: since I knew there was not much chance of again seeing their chief.
I heeded not the stray shots that came hurtling around my head; and, in all likelihood, one would have consigned me to a fate, similar to what had befallen my comrade, had I been left to a much longer indulgence in my reckless mood.
But I was not. A strong arm seizing me from behind – it was that of my sergeant – drew me back within the cabin; whose thick wooden walls were proof against the bullets of either carbine, or escopeta.
Chapter Thirty Nine.
Guided by a Renegade
For some seconds there was silence in our midst. It was the silence of men who have nothing to say to one another.
There was no need for any one to explain what had passed. All saw, and too clearly, that we had been chicaned; and that the wretched curs who had “sold” us, were as completely beyond our reach, as if twenty miles lay between us and them!
To be convinced of this, we had only to look down to the bottom of the barranca– sheer fifty feet, before the eye rested on the white froth flakes gliding below!
It was superfluous in Sam Brown to tell us, there was no crossing for a mile above or below. A glance at the twin cliffs, as they faced frowningly towards each other, seemed to say: that they had parted in anger, not soon to come together again!
A mile in either direction meant as much as ten – ay, twenty, upon an ordinary road. It meant the ruin of Mercedes!
“O God!” I exclaimed in my anguish, “is there no chance of our getting across?”
I was answered by the groaning of the torrent beneath my feet, and the maniac laugh of the eagle that soared majestically over my head – both seeming to mock the impuissance of man.
“A thousand dollars!” I shouted out, loud enough to be heard by the remotest of my followers, “a thousand dollars to the man who can show a way by which this chasm may be crossed!”
“Por dios, caballero!” replied a voice, coming from a quarter where it was not expected. “For the tenth part of that pretty sum I’d be willing to pledge my soul: more especially, if by so doing I can redeem my body.”
The words were in Spanish. I turned in the direction whence came the voice. I could see that it had proceeded from one of the prisoners, we had taken in the first attack.
The speaker declared himself by endeavouring to struggle to his feet, and making other gestures to attract our attention.
I hastened towards him, and gave an order for his limbs to be set free of their fastenings.
This was done.
“You know – ?” I was about to ask.
“A way to get across the quebrada,” said the brigand, interrupting me, “if you’ll let me show it to you. I only stipulate – ”
“Hang your stipulations!” interposed one of my men. “We’ll shoot you, if you don’t show it! Like a dog we’ll shoot you!”
The rude rebuke, with which I punished the interference of my over zealous follower, had its effect upon the bandolero. It secured me his confidence – while strengthening his treasonous intention.
“Señor capitan,” he said, “I perceive that you are a true caballero, and can be trusted with a secret. How much, then, for taking you across? I know you’re not in earnest about the thousand pesos. Say a hundred, and the thing’s done. I don’t bargain for my life. That, of course, will be part of the price I should claim for my services.”
“Your life, and a thousand dollars, if within ten minutes you take us to the other side!”
“Ten minutes!” answered the robber, reflectingly. “Ten! It’s but short time to do it in. Say twenty, señor capitan?”
“Twenty, then – if it must be.”
“Agreed! And don’t suppose that I’m going to earn the reward without some risk. Carrambo! I’m staking my life against it! Silencio, señores!” he continued in a commanding tone, “Hay Moros en la costa! I must listen a bit before it will be safe to proceed.”
We had released the brigand from his ropes, and conducted him inside the hut.
As soon as he had entered it, he stole cautiously to the back door; and, placing himself behind one of the jambs, remained for some seconds listening.
I had given orders that no one should make a noise. There was none heard except the hoarse cataract and the shrill caracara.
“Esta bue no!” he at length ejaculated. “The Moors are gone – the coast is clear.”
“It is?” I mechanically asked.
“Sin duda, señor. My camarados have taken their departure. If you wish to cross to the other side there will be no danger now.”
“We wish it! Quick! Show us the way!”
“Nos vamos!”
The bandit, stepping out upon the ledge – that served as a sort of sill to the back door of the cabin – knelt down upon it.
Misled by a former experience, I fancied he was going to offer up a prayer for the success of his treasonable enterprise!
I was undeceived, on seeing him glide gently over the edge.
I craned my head outward, and looked below.
He was already half-way down the cliff, suspended on the llianas that had formed the swing bridge.
He was still rapidly descending.
In another score of seconds he had reached the base of the barranca; where a narrow shelf of rock afforded him footing by the stream.
On touching it, he stopped, looked upwards, and called out: —
“Hola! señor capitan! I’ve forgotten to tell you, that I require assistance. I shall not be able to raise the puente-hamaca myself. You must give me one of your men; or else one of my old camarados!”
“I know what he means,” said the stage-driver, stepping forth as a volunteer, and stooping to take hold of the llianas. “Thar may be treezun in the skunk. I don’t think thar is. But if there shed be, cap’n, jest keep a look out acrosst the gulley, an’ give ’em plenty o’ lead. I know enough o’ your fellows, to feel sure they won’t make a meal-sieve o’ my carcass. Here goes for a bit o’ gymnasticks!”
Before I could make reply to this extraordinary speech, Sam Brown had disappeared below the level of the doorstep. When I next saw him, he was standing on the ledge below, with the froth of the cataract clouting up around his ankles!
Chapter Forty.
The Consummation
Though by this time the sun was in the sky, it was still sombre darkness at the bottom of the barranca. I could barely distinguish the forms of Sam Brown and the brigand.
I was now convinced that the latter had no thought of treachery, – at least as regarded us; and with his treason to his old comrades we had nothing to do. That was an affair between him, and such conscience as he possessed.
For a second or two, both stage-driver and salteador were out of sight.
When I next set eyes upon them, they were upon the opposite side of the stream – climbing up the escarpment of the cliff, by a zigzag path that appeared to conduct to its summit.
A few minutes sufficed them for making the ascent; and then they appeared at the place where the two men had stood, while cutting down the bridge.
Shortly after I could see them hauling hand over hand – as if upon a rope; and looking below, I observed the puente-hamaca slowly ascending above the surface of the water.
Gently and gradually was it drawn up, till it hung like a hammock across the chasm – just as we had seen it on first looking out of the hut.
A short interval elapsed; and then the voice of the bandit was heard calling to us to come over.
“Vengan ustedes!” he cried, encouragingly. “You need have no fear. The puente is perfectly safe. If you cross quickly you may yet overtake – ”
I waited to hear no more. Whether the man meant treason or not, I was determined to be on the other side; and, seizing hold of the sipo, which served as a sort of hand-rail, I scrambled across the chasm.
My comrades, agile as I, swarmed after me – two or three staying to keep guard over the captives already secured.
“Now, sir!” I said to the brigand, as soon as we had secured footing upon the opposite side, “You’ve earned your thousand dollars by showing us the way to get across. On the word of an American officer I promise it shall be paid you; and another like sum if you guide us to the spot where I can find Torreano Carrasco.”
I spoke with a serious air, and in a confidential tone – my confidence designed to tempt the cupidity of the brigand.
It was not misplaced. It produced the effect intended.
“Bueno!” replied he, with an assenting movement of the head; “It’s only a step from here,” he continued in a stage whisper. “Our captain thinks himself safe, because nobody – except one of ourselves – could have brought you over the quebrada. Nos vamos! In twenty minutes time you will see your Mercedes.”
My impatience to be off hindered me from questioning the guide about his last speech; though it struck me as singular, he should know aught of my relations with the captive of Carrasco. I had forgotten that the robber-chief had shouted across the chasm, loud enough to be heard by our prisoner.
“Forward!” was my hurried response, “Guide me to her, and you may make your own terms about money!”
What cared I for the vile dross, of which I had ten thousand dollars in my keeping? True, it was not my own. It belonged to Don Eusebio Villa-Señor. But had I not been intrusted with it for the ransom of his daughters? And was this not the way in which I was employing it?
The Mexican seemed to comprehend me, and with a clearness that left nothing misunderstood. Willingly he led the way; and with equal willingness was he followed by myself and comrades.
Our journey proved but a short one. After climbing a rocky ridge, we came within sight of a forest-covered tract – lying just under the line of the snow.
The guide pointed to it – saying that there we should find the man we were in search of. There was a rancho among the pines. On reaching it, we might make sure of seeing Carrasco!
This rancho was the “head-quarters” of the cuadrilla– the cabin on the cliff serving as a sort of outlying post, to be used only in cases of close pursuit. The salteadores had but halted there, to wait for the morning light – the more safely to make the passage of the swing bridge.
Their real rendezvous was the rancho– a large house in the heart of the pine-forest, where the renegade assured us we would find his chief, his comrades, and their captives.
“Lead on!” I cried, roused to renewed energy at thought of the last. “A hundred pesos for every minute spared. On! on!”
Without another word the Mexican struck off among the trees, the sergeant treading close upon his tracks.
It was now broad daylight; but in five minutes after we were again in twilight darkness.
We had entered the pine-forest, and were travelling among trees whose stems stood thickly around us, and whose leafy boughs, interlocking overhead, formed an umbrageous canopy scarcely penetrable by the sun.
The path led labyrinthine through the close-standing trunks, and still more deviously among those that had fallen.
Properly speaking there was no path; for our guide was conducting us by a route different from that usually taken by the salteadores. This was to secure us against the chance of an ambuscade.
Unless the robbers had taken the precaution to throw out sentinels, there was not much danger of our approach being perceived; and this their ci-devant comrade assured us was never done. He was confident that no picket would be placed: the salteadores considering themselves safe, after having crossed the quebrada.
Notwithstanding his assurance, we advanced with caution. It was not due to me – too excited to care – but to the sergeant.
The latter kept close to the traitor, holding a cocked pistol to his ear – with the determination to shoot him down, should he show the slightest sign of a second treason!
The stage-driver betrayed no such concern. Better acquainted with Mexican morals, he had full confidence in the fidelity of our guide; who had but one motive for being false, and two thousand for proving true.
“Let him alone!” he muttered to the suspicious sergeant. “Leave him to take his own way. I’ll go his bail for bringin’ us out in the right place. If thar be any fluke, it won’t be his fault. So long as he meets nobody to promise more than two thousand he’ll be true; an’ that bid ain’t like to be riz ’mong these here mountings. Leave the skunk to himself. He’ll take us whar we kin trap Carrasco.”
The conjecture of Sam Brown proved but partially true; though the renegade was not responsible for any part of its failure.
He did all in his power to earn the reward promised him, and in the end was paid it. He had only stipulated to take me into the presence of the robber-chief; and to the letter was this stipulation carried out.
Through his agency I was brought face to face with Torreano Carrasco, and my comrades hand to hand with his cuadrilla of salteadores.
Reader! I forbear to harrow your heart with a description of the conflict that followed. It was too sanguinary to be told to your gentle ear, as it is too sad a souvenir, even for my remembrance.
Suffice it to say, that one-third of the faithful followers who accompanied me in that expedition, slept their last sleep on the cold sides of Ixticihuatl – the dark pines singing over them their eternal requiem – that more than two-thirds of our outlawed antagonists were slain at the same time; and that the rest – including their chief, – contrived to make their escape across the mountain.
I cared not so much for that, so long as Mercedes remained safe – and to me. She did so, and I was satisfied.
The bandoleros, taken by surprise, had no time either to conceal their captives, or hurry them out of the way. Each had enough to do in providing for his own safety; and at the very first rush into the rancho Mercedes became mine!
As she lay panting upon my breast, I felt like one who has long been in chase of some beautiful bird – fearing by a too close contact to ruffle its rich plumage – at length, enfolding it in his embrace, in the full faith of having a treasure from which he will never more be called upon to part!
It was the first time I had holden her in my arms – the first of our exchanging speech – and yet it seemed to both of us like the renewal of an old love, by some sinister chance long interrupted!
We talked, as if years had sanctified our affection; though a love like ours needs scarce an hour to carry it to the spring-tide of passion.
On the spot I called her Mercedes —my Mercedes; while she in return gave me the endearing title of “querido!”
It was no longer “Querido Francisco!”
It cast no shadow over my joy, that Francisco survived that terrible night; and, along with his Dolores, lived to complete the marriage commenced among the mountains, and so ruthlessly interrupted.
I had the pleasure of being present at the crowning scene of the ceremony. It came off in the Capital – in the quiet little church of the Capuchins – where Don Eusebio, instead of insisting upon his daughter becoming una novia del Cristo, gave his consent to her being the bride of Francisco Moreno.
