THE AMBUSH.
Don Fernando and his friend, as we have related, left the hacienda a little before Don Torribio. They had made all haste to reach their dwelling. The tertulia had ended at nine o'clock; and by eleven they were at the rancho.
Doña Manuela was expecting them. In a few words they reported to her all that had happened at the tertulia, and hastened to their couches; for they were obliged to leave again at daybreak, if they wished to arrive in good time at San Lucar without over-fatigueing Doña Manuela, who was to accompany them. In fact, according to agreement, they mounted their horses a little before four in the morning.
In Mexico, on account of the intense heat of the day, people generally travel by night; that is to say, from four in the morning till eleven, and from six in the evening till midnight. Nine o'clock struck as the three entered the presidio. Don Fernando left his friend and the mother to find their way to the house he possessed in San Lucar, which he had placed at their disposal, while he himself repaired to the governor's house, whither affairs of grave importance called him.
The worthy governor overwhelmed the visitor with civilities,—for the latter had, on more than one occasion, rendered him important service,—and seemed unable to show him sufficient courtesy But, in spite of the efforts of his host, Don Fernando perceived that Don José Kalbris was a prey to anxiety, which all his sense of the attentions due to his guest did not enable him wholly to conceal.
Don José Kalbris was a brave and worthy soldier, true as his own steel, to whom the Mexican government had given the charge of the presidio as a recompense for his valiant services during the War of Independence. For fifteen years the colonel had governed the presidio, and, thanks to a certain degree of severity tempered by justice, and to his undoubted courage, had managed to keep it in a state of comparative tranquillity, in spite of the evil passions of the vaqueros—a set of rascals, three or four of whom he was obliged to garrote annually, in order to overawe the rest—and the continual raids of the Indians, who pushed up under the guns of the fort in their attempts to carry off cattle and make prisoners, the latter being their favourite booty, especially women.
Don José, endowed with moderate intelligence, but rich in experience, and warmly supported by the better classes, who had entire confidence in him, had contrived to maintain peace in his province without much difficulty up to the time of which we are now speaking. This denoted a certain strength of character in the old soldier, who was without education, and had made his own career, particularly when one takes into consideration the difficulty of his receiving support from his government; so that he was thrown on his own resources, and obliged to take the initiative, and act on his own responsibility, in all cases where he thought fit to exercise the strong arm of the law.
In person the governor was a tall, stout man with a purple and bloated face, perfectly self-satisfied, fond of hearing himself talk, and who laid great stress on every syllable he uttered.
Don Fernando, well acquainted with the colonel's character, and holding him in great esteem, was astounded at the uneasiness he displayed, and the change from his usual placidity of manner. Fancying that want of money might be at the bottom of his embarrassment, he resolved to sound him, and come to his aid, if that were necessary.
"Holloa!" said the colonel, "What good wind blows you to the presidio so early, Don Fernando?"
"The wish to see you," replied the latter, pressing the hand the colonel extended.
"It is very kind of you. You will breakfast with me, of course?"
"I came to invite myself."
"That is right," said the colonel, striking a bell.
A domestic entered.
"This caballero will do me the honour to breakfast with me."
The servant, a well-trained soldier, disappeared.
"By the bye, Don Fernando, I have a heap of papers here addressed to you."
"Thank Heaven! I was afraid they had been delayed. I want them particularly, for certain reasons."
"So much the better, then," said the colonel, producing the papers, which Don Fernando put into his pocket.
"Breakfast is ready," said the same man who had appeared an instant before.
The governor and his guest proceeded to the breakfast room, where they found a third person waiting for them. This was a Major Barnum, an old Englishman, tall, dry, thin, and formal; as brave a soldier as ever existed; for twenty years in the service of the Mexican Republic; devoted heart and soul to the country of his adoption; and second in command in the presidio of San Lucar.
He and Don José had seen much service together, and were attached to each other like two brothers; resuscitating in this out of the way corner of the world the fables of Castor and Pollux Damon and Pythias, and all the other heroes of ancient friendship.
Don Fernando and Major Barnum were slightly acquainted with each other, and glad of the meeting; for the Englishman was an excellent fellow, and hid a warm and loyal heart under his rather cold manner.
After the usual greetings, all three placed themselves at table, and commenced a vigorous attack on the delicacies with which the board was abundantly supplied.
When the first keen relish of appetite had been appeased, the conversation became more lively, and at the close of the meal grew quite amicable and confidential.
"By the bye, what is the matter with you, Don José?" said Don Fernando. "There is something odd about you today, which I have never seen before."
"Right," said the governor, draining a glass of Jerez de la Frontera (sherry); "I feel sad."
"You sad! You astonish me. If I had not noticed your appetite at breakfast, I should think you were ill."
"Well," said the soldier, with a sigh, "my appetite is good."
"Then what is there to vex you?"
"I have a presentiment of evil," said the governor, seriously.
"A presentiment of evil!" echoed the major. "I know that at first sight it seems ridiculous for old soldiers like ourselves to attach importance to such folly, which is only, at the best, the result of a diseased imagination. Nevertheless, I too feel like the colonel: I am uneasy without knowing why; I expect every moment to receive evil tidings. In two words, I am firmly convinced some great danger is impending. I feel it, I know it, without being able to guess whence it is to come."
"Ah," said the governor, "the major has just described my own sensations. Long as my career as a soldier has been, I have never felt so anxious and oppressed as now. I have been in this state of excitement a whole week, and am astonished nothing has happened to justify my forebodings. Don Fernando, God does give warnings of danger to man."
"I do not deny the truth of what you propound. I know you too well to have the least intention to question your conviction. But still, how is it to be accounted for? You and Major Barnum are not men to be afraid of a shadow, or easily scared; you have proved that a thousand times. Has nothing occurred to confirm your presentiment?"
"Nothing as yet," replied the governor; "but I momentarily expect bad news."
"Come, come, Don José!" said Don Fernando gravely; "you are suffering from an attack of a malady very common in the major's country, where they call it 'the blue devils.' It is a kind of spleen, caused by the fogs in England. Listen to me: get yourself bled—do not spare the wine cup; and in a couple of days you will be the first to laugh at the trick your fancy has played you. Do you not think so, major?"
"I wish it were so," said that officer, shaking his head.
"Pooh!" said Don Fernando; "Life is short enough already. What is the use of creating bugbears to frighten ourselves? And besides, who is there to give you trouble?"
"¿Quién sabe? We are never sure of anything on the frontiers."
"Nonsense! The Indians have grown as quiet as lambs."
Just then a servant opened the door, and beckoned to the governor.
"What do you want?" said the latter.
"Señor," replied the servant, "a vaquero, just arrived in all haste, requests an audience. He is the bearer of important intelligence."
This announcement fell like a sheet of ice on the three caballeros, and thoroughly stopped the flow of their fictitious gaiety.
"Let him come in," said the colonel.
Then casting a look of inconceivable sadness on Don Fernando, he added:
"It is fate herself who undertakes to answer you!"
"We shall see!" replied Don Fernando with a forced smile.
Heavy footsteps were heard in the adjacent apartments, and the vaquero entered.
It was Pablito.
The man had indeed the look of one who brings bad news. He seemed to have just left the battlefield—to have escaped from a massacre. His clothes hung in rags, stained with mud and gore; his face, pale as death, had an expression of sadness very strange in such a man. It was with difficulty he held himself upright, so dreadfully jaded he seemed by the struggle he had had to reach the presidio. His spurs left a bloody mark on the floor at every step; and he was forced to support himself on his rifle.
The three men looked at him with mingled fear and pity.
"Here," said Don Fernando, pouring out a tumbler of wine; "drink this; it will restore you."
"No!" said Pablito, thrusting back the glass; "I thirst for blood, not wine!"
These words were uttered in such a tone of hatred and despair, that the listeners involuntarily turned pale, and shuddered with horror.
"What has happened?" said the colonel, in deep anxiety.
The vaquero wiped the cold sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, and said, in short, sharp accents, which struck terror into his hearers:
"The Indians are upon us!"
"Have you seen them?" asked the major.
"Yes," said he abruptly; "I have seen them."
"When was that—today?"
"This very morning, colonel."
"Far from hence?"
"About twenty leagues. They have already crossed the Rio del Norte."
"Already! How many are there? Do you know."
"Count the sand grains in the desert, and you will know."
"God!" said the colonel; "it is impossible. The Indians cannot assemble in such numbers in the course of a day. Your fears have deceived you."
"Fears!" said Pablito, laughing derisively. "Fear is very well for you who live in towns; in the wilderness we have no time to make her acquaintance."
"Well, then, how are they coming?"
"Like a tornado, burning and pillaging as they come."
"Is it their intention to attack the presidio?"
"They have formed an immense half moon, the two horns of which are nearing you every moment."
"Are they still a good way off?"
"Yes; for they are acting on a preconceived plan, establishing themselves firmly in places capable of defence, and apparently not governed by the sole instinct of pillage; but, as it would seem, obeying the directions of a chief who understands the art of war, and whose influence is felt in all their movements."
"This looks serious," said the governor.
The major shook his head.
"Why have you waited so long before you warned us?" said he.
"This morning, at daybreak, my comrades and I were surrounded by more than two hundred of these demons, who seemed to rise out of the ground. We defended ourselves like lions: one is dead; two of us are wounded, but we managed to escape; and here I am."
"Get back to your post as soon as possible; they shall give you a fresh horse."
"I will be off directly, colonel."
The vaquero saluted and left them. Five minutes later, they heard his horse's hoofs clattering over the stony road.
"Well," said the colonel, looking at the two others; "what did I tell you? Did my forebodings lie?"
Don Fernando rose.
"Where are you going?" asked the colonel.
"Back to the Hacienda del Cormillo."
"At once! Without finishing your breakfast?"
"This instant. I am torn by indescribable anxiety. The Indians may attack the hacienda; and God knows what may happen."
"El Cormillo is fortified, and cannot be taken by a coup-de-main. However, I think Doña Hermosa would be safer here. Try, if there is time, to induce Don Pedro to return: no one can foresee the issue of an invasion undertaken on such a scale; and one cannot take too many precautions. I should be glad to see Don Pedro and his daughter safe among us."
"Thank you, colonel; your advice is excellent. I will use every effort to induce Don Pedro to follow it. Good-bye. I venture to flatter myself that an energetic demonstration on your part will rid us of these ferocious foes, whose tactics are always to attempt a surprise, and who disappear as suddenly as they came the moment they find their plans have been discovered."
"God grant it! But I scarcely hope as much." "Farewell, caballeros, and good luck!" said Don Fernando, pressing the hands of the two old soldiers.
Don Estevan was waiting for him in the court, and joined him as soon as he appeared.
"Well," said the mayor domo, "you have heard the news? The Indians are coming like the locusts."
"Yes; I have heard so."
"What do you intend to do?"
"To return to the hacienda at once."
"H'm! That would be scarcely prudent. You know how speedily these demons spread themselves over all the country; we should most likely meet some of them."
"Well! We will ride over their corpses."
"¡Canarios! I dare say. But you may be killed."
"Pooh! Doña Hermosa expects me; and I am not killed yet."
"True; but you may be."
"Well, we shall see."
"Probably so. However, as I foresaw the objections you would make, I have arranged everything to go. The horses are ready saddled, the peones in waiting: we will set off as soon as you choose."
"Thanks, Estevan; you are really a friend."
"I know it," said the latter, with a gay smile. Estevan Diaz whistled shrilly, and the peones entered the court, leading two horses by their bridles.
"Let us be off," said Don Fernando, springing into the saddle.
"Let us be off," repeated Don Estevan.
They gave the horses their heads, and began to push their way slowly through the crowd of idlers assembled before the gates of the fortress to learn the latest news, and trotted down the steep incline leading from the fort to the old presidio, replying, as well as they could, to the questions with which they were assailed on all sides. As soon as they had threaded the town, they increased their speed along the road to the Hacienda del Cormillo, without noticing the repeated signals of several more than suspicious-looking individuals, carefully wrapped in thick cloaks, who had followed them at a distance since they left the fort, talking eagerly the while to each other.
It was a stormy day. The sky was gray and lowering; the birds wheeled screaming around; and the wind, blowing in squalls, roared in the deep defiles of the road, filling the air with clouds of impalpable dust.
The two peones who had brought the news of the Indians' march upon the presidio rode twenty paces in advance, and scanned the country on each side of the road with startled looks, expecting every instant to see the redskins make their appearance, and to hear the dreaded war whoop. Don Fernando and Don Estevan rode side by side, without exchanging a syllable, each sufficiently occupied by his own thoughts.
In the meanwhile, the nearer the travellers got to the river, the more the storm increased in intensity. The rain fell in torrents, the lightning flashed incessantly, and the peals of thunder rolled majestically among the high cliffs, from which enormous crags were constantly detached, and hurled crashing into the river.
The storm had reached such a pitch of fury, that the riders had the greatest difficulty in making progress, and were in constant danger of falling with their horses, which were plunging wildly in their fright at the tempest. The ground, soaked with rain, afforded no foothold for the poor brutes: they slipped and stumbled at every step, snorted violently, and threatened to break down.
"It is impossible to get farther," said the mayor domo, picking up his horse from a plunge which had nearly unseated him.
"But what is to be done?" asked Don Fernando, looking about him with great anxiety.
"I think we had better take shelter under this clump of trees for a while: the storm grows worse and worse. It is folly to pursue our journey while it lasts."
"Let us go, if we must," said Don Fernando resignedly.
Accordingly they turned towards a small copse on one side of the road, which seemed to offer some little shelter from the intensity of the storm.
They were only a few paces from it, when four men, their faces covered with black masks, rushed out of the wood, and dashed at the travellers, whom they attacked without uttering a word. The peones fell from their saddles, knocked over by two shots from the masked strangers, and rolled on the ground in convulsive agony, uttering the most piteous cries.
Don Fernando and Don Estevan, astonished at this sudden attack by men who could not be Indians,—for they were dressed like vaqueros, and their hands were white,—instantly dismounted, and, placing themselves behind their horses, awaited their assailants' onset with cocked rifles.
The latter, after making sure of the death of the peones, turned their horses' heads to attack the two Spaniards. Shots were again exchanged, and a terrible combat began,—a dreadful struggle of two men against four—in which no word was spoken, and which was intended to end in the death of those who had been so treacherously set upon. However, the combat was sustained with a semblance of equality which discouraged the assailants, of whom one had already fallen, cut down to the teeth; while a second was retreating, with his chest pierced through by the good blade of Don Fernando.
"Aha! my masters," exclaimed the latter; "have you had enough, or do you wish to make further acquaintance with my blade? Fools that you are! You should have set at least ten to assassinate us."
"What!" added the mayor domo, "Are you already satisfied? You are not clever enough for highwaymen; the man who pays you might have made a better choice."
In fact, the two remaining men in masks had withdrawn a few paces, and held themselves on the defensive.
Suddenly four other masked men appeared, and all six rushed upon the Spaniards, who awaited them firmly.
"The devil! I wronged you by my suspicion," said Don Estevan. "I see you are up to your work;" and he discharged a pistol point-blank into the midst of his adversaries.
The latter, still without a word, answered his fire, and the struggle was renewed with fresh fury.
But the two brave Spaniards could not defend themselves much longer: they were exhausted with fatigue; and it was not long before they, in their turn, fell on the dead bodies of two more of their assailants, whom they had sacrificed to their fury before they fell.
When they saw Don Fernando and Don Estevan stretched on the ground, the strangers uttered a shout of triumph. Without troubling themselves about the mayor domo, they seized the body of Don Fernando, threw it over the neck of one of their horses, and rapidly vanished amongst the manifold complications of the road.
The tempest continued to rage with fury. A lugubrious silence reigned in the spot where this tragedy had been acted, and where seven corpses were now lying, round which the vultures and hideous zopilotes, uttering their hoarse cries, began to sail in narrowing circles.