MOONSHINE.
It was about four in the morning; the night storm had completely swept the sky, which was of a deep azure; day would speedily appear. General Cárdenas, leaning sadly over the battlements of the town wall, was reflecting, while his eye wandered over the plain and the camp of the Mexicans, whose bivouac fires were beginning to die out. A little distance behind him, aides-de-camp and orderly officers carelessly leaning on their sabres were waiting with ill-disguised impatience till their chief thought proper to leave the ramparts and return to the cabildo.
The general, we said, was reflecting. His thoughts were sad and gloomy. Provisions and ammunition, squandered by the officers ordered to serve them out, were running short; the garrison, tired of being shut up within the walls, were beginning to mutter, and would ere long complain loudly. Coahuila had been so completely invested by the Mexican army that, from the day the siege began, no one had been able to enter or leave the town. The general, consequently, was as much deprived of news as if he were five hundred leagues away from Mexico. The soldiers, accustomed since the beginning of the insurrection to live at the expense of the country people, plunder, and ill-treat them, did not like the confined diet to which they were constrained. Unpleasant rumours circulated among them, although it was impossible to trace them to their source. The officers themselves were discouraged, and desired the end of this state of things, which every day that passed rendered worse. The general, therefore, saw with terror the moment at hand when all would fail him at once, and he would be forced to throw himself on the mercy of enemies whom he had supposed so contemptible, and whom he had taken a delight in exasperating by unlooked-for and objectless cruelty. Hurled thus from his high estate into a bottomless abyss, the general was suffering from one of those cold and concentrated attacks of fury which are the more terrible because they can find no outlet.
All at once the general fancied he could distinguished the shadowy outline of a man, who was approaching the ramparts with the utmost caution. Still this man appeared to care very little about being seen from the town, and only tried to conceal himself from the sentries, who might have noticed him in the camp. Some considerable time elapsed ere this man, who advanced looking back anxiously every moment, arrived within pistol shot of the ramparts. The general rose, and, making an officer a sign to approach, whispered a few words in his ear. The officer went off, and the general returned to his post of observation.
The stranger still advanced, apparently growing bolder the nearer he drew to the ramparts. All at once several men dashed out of a postern gate, and ere the stranger had time to attempt a useless resistance, he was thrown down, bound, and carried into the town by the men who had so cleverly seized him. Still, we are bound to mention that the soldiers experienced no difficulty in dragging their prisoner along; on the contrary, he affected to follow them with the most perfect readiness. The general, while waiting for the prisoner, walked up and down the ramparts; when he was brought up to him, he looked at him for a moment in silence. The stranger was a young man, with an intelligent and sarcastic face, tall and powerfully built.
"Who are you, scamp?" the general asked him roughly, "And how is it that you dare to prowl so near the walls of a besieged town?"
"Hang it all," the stranger replied, in excellent Spanish, though with a marked foreign accent, "I was not prowling round the walls."
"What were you doing, then?"
"I was merely trying to get into the town."
"This is an impudent scoundrel," the general said to himself, "but at least he is frank. And, why, pray, did you want to enter Coahuila?"
"If you do not mind, General, giving orders that I should be freed from these cords, which annoy me, I shall answer you with greater ease."
"Very good; but I warn you that, at the slightest suspicious movement, I shall have your brains blown out."
"That is your business, General," the stranger replied carelessly.
At a signal from the general the stranger was unfastened; he gave a sigh of relief on feeling himself at liberty.
"There," he said, "now a man can talk."
"Are you disposed to answer me?"
"Ask me a question."
"What is your name?"
"Moonshine."
"A capital name for a night bird."
"It is mine."
"What are you?"
"Canadian, and wood ranger; but, look ye, General, if we go on this way we shall never come to an end. I prefer coming straight to facts. I have come to offer you a bargain."
"What is it?"
"Oh, oh, General, do not go on too fast; in the first place how much will you give me?"
"Why in the first place I must know—"
"The amount, that is true; well, I will tell you,—four hundred ounces."[1]
"What! Four hundred ounces!" the general exclaimed, "You seem to me to be an amusing scoundrel; but take care I do not hang you, in order to teach you not to play the mountebank with me."
"That is the reward for doing people a service," the Canadian said with a philosophic shrug of his shoulders.
"But, animal," the general continued impatiently, "what service are you doing me?"
"An immense one, General."
"Come, explain yourself."
"I am most anxious to do so, but you will not let me speak."
The general had a knowledge, or fancied he had, of his fellow men; he remembered his interview with Oliver, and understood that if this man, knowing his reputation, ventured to speak in this way to him, he must have very powerful incentives, and feel very sure of impunity; besides, his own serious position made it a bounden duty for him to obtain information by all possible means. He therefore restrained himself, resolved if the Canadian was really laughing at him to have him hung at once.
"Well, speak, and the plague smother you!" he said to him.
"In that case, General, the matter is this. But pledge me first your word of honour that if what I am going to tell you is really as important to you as I fancy, you will at once pay me the sum I ask."
"Very good; but if you deceive me you will be hung or shot—the choice being left you."
"Very good; it is a bargain. Where is the money?"
"Do you suppose that I carry four hundred ounces about me?"
"Hang it, what is to be done?" the Canadian said, scratching his head.
"Stay," the general said, as he showed him two diamond rings, "these are worth nearly double the sum you ask. Are you satisfied?"
"On your word, now? Well, I will risk it. Well, listen. This night I had sheltered myself as well as I could about three or four leagues from here, for the purpose of camping. Unfortunately for me, the storm came on, and compelled me to seek a safer shelter."
"Cut it short."
"I will, General. The night was so dark that, not knowing the country, I lost my way, and got into the very centre of the Mexican camp."
"Ah, ah! And I suppose they gave you a warm reception?"
"They gave me no reception at all, General."
"What? Did they turn you out?"
"Who turn me out?"
"Hang it, how do I know? The sentries, perhaps."
"Why, General, that is the very point; the camp is deserted; the Mexican army has disappeared."
The general gave a bound of surprise.
"Are you mocking me, scoundrel?" he shouted violently; "Are you aware whom you are speaking to when you come to tell me such falsehoods?"
"Hang it, General, it is easy to assure yourself whether I speak the truth, by going to see. However, it appears that the Mexicans were in a hurry to be off, for they left behind them cannon, forage—everything, in a word."
"That is strange," the general muttered, as he fixed on the Canadian a glance that seemed trying to read his very heart's secrets, which the hunter sustained without evincing the slightest confusion, "that is strange," he repeated; "and do you not know the cause of this precipitate departure?"
"How should I know it? I am a stranger. Perhaps, though—but no, they cannot know it yet, as I expected to obtain a good reception from them by telling them of it."
The hunter spoke with such simple frankness, his face displayed such candour, that the general had not for a moment a thought of suspecting him; on the contrary, he listened to him with the most earnest attention.
"What more?" he asked eagerly.
"What, do you not know it?"
"It seems not."
"And yet it has caused a regular disturbance. It is reported that General Iturbide has been surprised by the Viceroy's troops and taken prisoner, after an obstinate resistance, so that the insurrection is once again subdued."
At this moment an officer, who had gone off with several others to obtain information about the Canadian's statement, ran up breathless.
"General," he said, "what this man has told you is true; the Mexican army has abandoned its camp with such haste that hardly anything has been removed."
"Then," said the hunter, "I have earned my money, General?"
"Yes," he answered, as he handed the Canadian the rings, which he carefully placed in his bosom. "But," he added, as he looked at him fixedly, and laid a stress on every word, "as you might, after all, be a traitor and clever spy, you will remain here till we obtain more thorough information. You appear to me to be much sharper than you pretend, and your head shall answer for your sincerity."
"I shall be very glad to remain here," the hunter replied carelessly; "here or elsewhere makes little difference to me. Still I do not quite understand how I can be a traitor, since you recognize the truth of what I have told you."
Moonshine allowed himself to be led away without the slightest emotion, and the general mounted his horse, in order to assure himself of the certainty of the facts announced to him. The camp was most thoroughly deserted, not a man or horse remained in it. Everything testified to the precipitation with which the Mexicans had retired. They had attempted to carry off a few guns and baggage waggons; but, doubtless discouraged by the difficulties they had to overcome, and probably demoralized by some crushing news, they had left guns and train scattered in all directions. Tumbrils filled with ammunition, arms, stores, even provisions, were thrown about in disorder, as if they had at first intended to remove them, but, pressed by time, had been forced to leave them behind.
The road followed by the Mexican army was perfectly visible, not only by the deep marks on the saturated ground, but also by the utensils of every description, uniforms, and arms scattered on the road. It was no longer a retreat, but a flight. The general tried in vain to seek the clue to this insoluble enigma. The chief of the Mexican army could not have had the idea of laying a trap for him. Everything contradicted this supposition; it was not admissible that an experienced soldier, for the purpose of deceiving his enemy, would consent to abandon to him his guns, ammunition, and even provisions; such a trick would have been most clumsy, since it would provide the Spaniards with all they wanted, as the Mexicans must be perfectly aware.
It was more simple to believe that what the hunter said was true; that General Iturbide has been defeated and made a prisoner by the Spanish troops, and that the Mexicans, terrified by this disastrous news, had been assailed by a panic and disbanded, seeking their safety in flight, as had happened several times already during the course of the war. Still, the general in chief, as a prudent and experienced man, would not risk anything till he had heard the opinions of his officers. After giving the requisite orders for a guard to be placed in the camp, he galloped back to the town and summoned a council of war. Moonshine was summoned before the council, and was heard again. The hunter repeated, without the variation of a syllable, what he had already told the general.
This deposition produced a marked effect on the members of the council. Each was of opinion that they must at once start in pursuit of the fugitives, in order not to allow them time to recover from their terror and reassemble. This was the general's opinion too; still, under circumstances of such gravity, he had desired to avoid responsibility, and appear constrained to yield to the wishes of his officers. As generally happens in such cases, the Spaniards passed from a state of the utmost dejection to the greatest braggadocio. The Mexicans, who had so long caused them to tremble, were only scoundrels, unworthy to contend with brave men, and they could be brought to order with the flat of the sabre.
The general, considering it useless to leave a strong garrison in the town, as the enemy had retired, and not wishing, in the case of the Mexicans making a stand, to advance without an imposing force, ordered two regiments of cavalry to mount, each trooper having an infantry man on his crupper, and took two field guns with him. This small army amounted to about five thousand men, more than sufficient to pursue and destroy demoralized bands, who would probably attempt no defence and be easily cut up. When all was ready for the start, General Cárdenas gave orders to bring up the Canadian, who had first brought him the happy news of the enemy's flight. The latter arrived, accompanied by the officer to whom he had been given in charge. The general smiled on the hunter.
"Listen to me," he said to him, "you appear a man of sense. You will come with us."
"What to do, General?" the hunter answered coldly; "I suppose you do not want me anymore?"
"I should like to have you near me."
"In order to blow out my brains, if you think proper to do so, eh?"
"That is possible; but come, notwithstanding."
"That would not be fair, General; I have honestly kept to my bargain. It is not my fault if, instead of quietly remaining here, you think proper to roam about the country at the risk of something happening."
"Then your advice would be that I should remain here?" the general said to him, with a searching glance.
"I have no advice to give you, General; I am neither a soldier nor an officer, and your affairs do not concern me. I tell you my opinion, that is all."
"But you are a wood ranger?" he continued, after a moment's reflection.
"Yes, General, and nothing else."
"In that case, you will make a famous scout."
"You want to make a second bargain with me, I think."
"Perhaps so. Do you refuse?"
"I am not at liberty either to accept or decline. You have the power on your side, and I am forced to obey."
"I like to hear you talk in that way. Perhaps you can find the enemy for me?"
The hunter detected the snare.
"Hang it!" he said simply, "As a wood ranger I can easily follow a trail. Put me on the traces of the Mexicans, and if they have not run to earth like prairie dogs, or flown away like eagles, there are heavy odds in favour of my bringing you up with them."
The general reflected.
"Listen to me," he said directly after, "I trust to you. If you serve me faithfully, you shall be nobly rewarded; if you deceive me, you will die."
"I do not understand you; I will try to bring you up with the people you are looking for; but I cannot pledge myself to more, as the rest concerns you."
"That is all I ask."
"On those conditions I am your man."
"Come along, then," the general continued; "but," he added, looking fixedly at him, "remember that you risk your head; at the slightest suspicion I will have you strung up without the least hesitation."
The Canadian merely shrugged his shoulders in answer to this threat, smiled craftily, mounted a horse that was brought him, coolly placed himself on the general's right hand, and at the word of command the small corps left the town in good order. So soon as it reached the plain, it proceeded towards the Mexican camp, curiously watched by all the inhabitants of Coahuila, who had flocked to the ramparts to witness the departure of the Spaniards, and who, in all probability, formed internal vows never to see them again.
[1] About £1600 of our currency.