THE VELORIO.
It was very late when the conspirators separated, and when the last groups of officers left the rancho, the sound of the Indian horses and mules proceeding to market was audible on the paved highway. Although the darkness was still thick, the stars were beginning to die out in the heavens, the cold was becoming sharper—in a word, all foretold that day would soon break.
The two travellers had seated themselves again at a corner of the table, opposite one another, and were dumb and motionless as statues. The host walked about the room with a busy air, apparently arranging and clearing up, but very anxious in reality, and desirous, in his heart, to be rid as soon as possible of these two singular customers, whose silence and sobriety inspired him with but slight confidence.
At length the person who had always spoken on his own behalf and that of his companion struck the table twice, and the landlord hurried up at this summons.
"What do you wish for, excellency?" he asked, with an obsequious air.
"I tell you what, landlord," the stranger continued, "it strikes me that your criado is a long time in returning; he ought to have been back before this."
"Pardon me, excellency, but it is a long journey from here to the Secunda Monterilla, especially when you are obliged to walk it. Still, I believe the peon will soon be back."
"May Heaven hear you! Give us each a glass of tamarind water."
At this moment, when the landlord brought the draught, there was a tap at the door.
"Perhaps it is our man," the stranger said.
"That is possible, your excellency," the landlord answered, as he went to open the door on the chain, which left only a passage of a few inches, much too narrow for the visitor to enter the house against the wish of its owner. This precautionary measure, which is at once very prudent and simple, is generally adopted all through Mexico, owing to the slight confidence with which the police organization in this blessed country, which is the refuge of scoundrels of every description, inspires the inhabitants.
After exchanging a few words in a low voice with the new arrival, the landlord unhooked the chain and opened the door.
"Excellency," he said to the stranger, who was slowly sipping his tamarind water, "here is your messenger."
"At last," the traveller said, gladly, as he placed his horn mug on the table.
The peon entered, politely doffed his hat and bowed.
"Well, my friend," the stranger asked him, "did you find the person to whom I sent you?"
"Yes, excellency, I had the good fortune to find him at home on his return from a tertulia in the Calle San Agustin."
"Ah, ah! and what did he say on receiving my note?"
"Well, excellency, he is a caballero, for sure; for he first gave me a piastre, and then said to me, 'Go back as quick as you can walk, and tell the gentleman who sent you that I shall be at the meeting he appoints as soon as yourself.'"
"So that——"
"He will probably be here in a few minutes."
"Very good, you are a clever lad," the stranger answered; "here is another piastre for you, and now you can retire."
"Thanks, your excellency," the peon said, joyfully pocketing his piastre. "Caray! I should be a rich man with only two nights a month like this."
And after bowing a second time, he left the room to go and sleep, in all probability, in the corral. The peon had told the truth, for he had scarce left the room ten minutes ere a rather loud voice was heard without: horses stamped, and not only was the door struck, but there were several loud calls.
"Open the door without fear," the stranger said; "I know that voice."
The ranchero obeyed, and several persons entered the inn.
"At last you have returned, my dear Valentine," the newcomer exclaimed in French, as he walked quickly towards the travellers, who, for their part, went to meet him.
"Thanks for your promptitude in responding to my invitation, my dear Rallier," the hunter answered.
The ranchero bit his lips on hearing them talk in a language he did not understand.
"Hum! they are Ingleses," he muttered spitefully. "I suspected they must be gringos."
It is a general rule with the lower class Mexicans that all foreigners are English, and consequently hunters or gringos.
"Come here, Ño Lusacho," Valentine said, addressing the landlord, who was turning his hat between his fingers with an air of considerable embarrassment, "I have to talk on important matters with these gentlemen, and as I do not wish to be disturbed by you, I propose that you should give me up this room for an hour."
"Excellency," he muttered.
"I understand, you expect to be paid. Very good, I will pay you, but on condition that no one, not even yourself, comes in till I call."
"Still, your excellency——."
"Listen to me without interruption. Day will not break for two hours, so you will not open your rancho till then, and, consequently, you have no customers to expect. I will pay an ounce for each hour; will that suit you?"
"I should think so, your excellency; at that price I will sell you the whole day if you wish."
"That is not necessary," the hunter said, with a laugh; "but you understand I want fair play—no ears on the listen, or eyes at the slits of the panelling."
"I am an honest man, your excellency."
"I am ready to believe so; but I warn you, because in the event of my seeing an eye or an ear lap, I shall immediately fire a bullet at it as a recommendation to prudence, and I have the ill luck to be a dead shot. Does the bargain suit you with those conditions?"
"Perfectly, your excellency. I shall keep a strict watch over my people, so that you shall not be disturbed."
"You are a splendid landlord, and I predict that you will make a rapid fortune, for I see that you thoroughly understand your own interests."
"I try to satisfy the gentry who honour my poor abode with their presence."
"Excellently reasoned! Here are the two promised ounces, and four piastres in the bargain for the refreshments you are going to serve us. Have these gentlemen's horses taken to the corral, and have the goodness to leave us."
The landlord bowed with a grimacing smile, brought, with a speed far from common with people of his calling, the refreshments ordered, and gave the hunter a deep bow.
"Now," he said, "your excellency is in your own house, and no one shall enter without your orders."
While Valentine was making this bargain with the ranchero, his friends remained silent, laughing inwardly at the hunter's singular mode of proceeding, and the unanswerable arguments he employed to avoid an espionage almost always to be found in such places, when the master does not scruple to betray those who pay him best.
"Now," said Valentine, so soon as the door closed behind the landlord, "we shall talk at least in safety."
"Speak Spanish, my friend," said M. Rallier.
"Why so? It is so delightful to converse in one's own tongue, when, like me, you have so few opportunities for doing so. I assure you that Curumilla will not feel offended."
"Hum; I did not say this on behalf of the chief, whose friendship for you I am well acquainted with."
"Who then?"
"For Don Martial, who has accompanied me, and has important matters to communicate to you."
"Oh, oh, that changes the question," said the hunter, at once substituting Spanish for the French he had hitherto employed. "Are you there, my dear Don Martial?"
"Yes, señor," the Tigrero answered, emerging from the gloom in which he had remained up to this moment, "and very happy to see you."
"Who else have you brought with you, Don Antonio?"
"Me, my friend," said a third person, as he let the folds of his cloak fall. "My brother thought that it would be better to have a companion, in the event of an alarm."
"Your brother was right, my dear Edward, and I thank him for the good idea, which procures me the pleasure of shaking your hand a few moments sooner. And now, señores, if you are agreeable, we will sit down and talk, for, if I am not mistaken, we have certain things to tell each other which are most important for us."
"That is true!" Antonio Rallier answered, as he sat down, in which he was immediately imitated by the rest.
"If you like," Valentine continued, "we will proceed in regular rotation; that is, I fancy, the way to finish more quickly, for you know that moments are precious."
"First, and before all else, my friend," said Antonio Rallier, "permit me to thank you once again, in my own name and that of my family, for the services you rendered me in our journey across the Rocky Mountains. Without you, without your watchful friendship and courageous devotion, we should never have emerged from those frightful gorges, but must have perished miserably in them."
"What good is it, my friend, to recall at this moment——"
"Because," Antonio Rallier continued eagerly, "I wish you to be thoroughly convinced that you can dispose of us all as you please. Our arms, purses, and hearts, all belong to you."
"I know it, my friend, and you see that I have not hesitated to make use of you, at the risk even of compromising you. So let us leave this subject, and come to facts. What have you done?"
"I have literally followed your instructions; according to your wish, I have hired and furnished for you a house in Tacuba Street."
"Pardon me, but you know that I am very slightly acquainted with Mexico, for I have visited that city but rarely, and each time without stopping."
"The Tacuba is one of the principal streets in Mexico; it faces the palace, and is close to the street in which I reside with my family."
"That is famous. And in whose name did you take the house?"
"In that of Don Serapio de la Ronda. Your servants arrived two days ago."
"You mean——"
"I mean Belhumeur and Black Elk; the former is your steward and the latter your valet. They have made all the arrangements, and you can arrive when you please."
"Today, then."
"I will act as your guide."
"Thank you; what next?"
"Next, my brother Edward has taken, in his own name, at the San Lázaro gate, a small house, where ten horses, belonging to the purest mustang breed, were at once placed in a magnificent corral."
"That concerns Curumilla; he will live in that house with your brother."
"And now one other thing, my friend."
"Speak!"
"You will not be angry with me?"
"With you? nonsense!" said Valentine, holding out his hand.
"Not knowing whether you had sufficient funds at your disposal—and you will agree with me that you will require a large sum——?"
"I know it. Well?"
"Well, I——"
"I see I must come to your assistance, my poor Antonio. As you believe me a poor devil of a hunter not possessed of a farthing, and are so delicate minded yourself, you have placed in a corner of the room, or in some article of furniture, of which you want to give me the key and don't know how, fifty or perhaps one hundred thousand piastres, with the reservation to offer me more, should not that sum prove sufficient."
"Would you be angry with me had I done so?"
"On the contrary, I should be most grateful to you."
"In that case I am glad."
"Glad of what, my dear Antonio?"
"That you accept the hundred thousand piastres."
Valentine smiled.
"I am delighted to find that you are the man I judged you to be. Still, while thanking you from my heart for the service you wish to render me, I do not accept it."
"Do you refuse, Valentine?" he said mournfully.
"Let us understand each other, my friend. I do not refuse; I simply tell you that I do not want the money, and here is the proof," he added, as he took from his pocket a folded paper, which, he handed to his countryman, "you, as a banker, may know the firm of Thornwood, Davison, and Co."
"It is the richest in San Francisco."
"Then open that paper and read."
Mr. Rallier obeyed.
"An unlimited credit opened at my house," he exclaimed in a voice tremulous with joy.
"Does that displease you?" Valentine asked with a smile.
"On the contrary; but you must be rich in that case."
A cloud of sadness passed over the hunter's forehead.
"I have grieved you, my friend."
"Alas! as you know, there are certain wounds which never close. Yes, my friend, I am rich; Curumilla, Belhumeur, and myself alone, now that my foster-mother is dead, know in Apacheria the richest placer that exists in the world. It was for the purpose of going to this placer that I did not accompany you to Mexico; now you understand; but what do I care for this incalculable fortune, when my heart is dead, and the joy of my life is for ever annihilated!"
And under the weight of the deep emotion that crushed him, the hunter hung his head down and stifled a sob. Curumilla arose amid the general silence, for no one ventured to offer ordinary consolation for this grief, and laid his hand on Valentine's shoulder—
"Koutonepi," he said to him in a hollow voice, "remember that you have sworn to avenge our brother."
The hunter drew himself up as if stung by a serpent, and pressing the hand the Indian offered him, he looked at him for a moment with strange fixedness.
"Women alone weep for the dead, because they are unable to avenge them," the Indian continued in the same harsh, cutting accent.
"Yes, you are right," the hunter answered with feverish energy; "I thank you, chief, for having recalled me to myself."
Curumilla laid his friend's hand on his heart, and stood for an instant motionless; at length he let it fall, sat down again, and wrapping himself in his zarapé, he returned to his habitual silence, from which so grave a circumstance alone could have aroused him. Valentine passed his hand twice over his forehead, which was bathed in cold perspiration, and attempted a faint smile.
"Forgive me, my friends, for having forgotten, during a moment, the character I have assumed," he said in a gentle voice.
Their hands were silently extended to him.
"Now," he exclaimed in a firm voice, in whose notes traces of the past tempest were still audible, "let us speak of that poor Doña Anita de Torrés."
"Alas!" said the elder Rallier, "I cannot tell you anything, although my sister Helena, her companion at the Convent of the Bernardines, to which I sent her in accordance with your wish, has let me know that she would have grand news for us in a few days."
"I will give you that news, with your permission," Don Martial said at this moment, suddenly joining in the conversation, to which he had hitherto listened with great indifference.
"Do you know anything?" Valentine asked him.
"Yes, something most important; that is why I was so anxious to speak with you."
"Speak then, my friend, speak, we are listening."
The Tigrero, without further pressing, at once reported, in the fullest details, his interview with Don Sebastian Guerrero's capataz. The three Frenchmen listened with the most serious attention, and when he had finished his story, Valentine rose—
"Let us be off, señores," he said, "we have no time to lose; perhaps heaven offers us, at this moment, the opportunity we have been so long awaiting."
The others rose without asking the hunter for any explanation, and a few minutes later Valentine and his comrades were galloping along the highway in the direction of Mexico.
"I do not know what diabolical plot they are forming," Ño Lusacho muttered, on seeing them disappear in the distance; "but they are worthy gentlemen, and let the ounces slip through their fingers like so much water."
And he entered the rancho, the door of which he now left open, for day was breaking.