THE REVOLT.
Don Miguel Zarate had marched rapidly on the Paso, and an hour after leaving Valentine he saw flashing in the distance the lights that shone in the village windows. The greatest calmness prevailed in the vicinity; only at times could be heard the barking of the dogs baying at the moon, or the savage miawling of the wild cats hidden in the shrubs. At about one hundred yards from the village a man suddenly rose before the small party.
"Who goes there?" he shouted.
"Méjico e independencia!" the hacendero answered.
"¿Qué gente?" the stranger continued.
"Don Miguel Zarate."
At these words twenty men hidden in the brushwood rose suddenly, and throwing their rifles on their shoulders, advanced to meet the horsemen. They were the hunters commanded by Curumilla, who, by Valentine's orders, were awaiting the hacendero's arrival to join him.
"Well," Don Miguel asked the chief, "is there anything new?"
Curumilla shook his head.
"Then we can advance?"
"Yes."
"What is the matter, chief? Have you seen anything alarming?"
"No; and yet I have a feeling of treachery."
"How so?"
"I cannot tell you. Apparently everything is as usual: still there is something which is not so. Look you, it is scarce ten o'clock: generally at that hour all the mesones are full, the ventas are crammed with gamblers and drinkers, the streets flocked with promenaders. This night there is nothing of the sort: all is closed—the town seems abandoned. This tranquillity is factitious. I am alarmed, for I hear the silence. Take care."
Don Miguel was involuntarily struck by the chief's remarks. He had known Curumilla for a long time. He had often seen him display in the most dangerous circumstances a coolness and contempt for death beyond all praise: hence some importance must be attached to the apprehensions and anxiety of such a man. The hacendero ordered his party to halt, assembled his friends, and held a council. All were of opinion that, before venturing to advance further, they should send as scout a clever man to traverse the town, and see for himself if the fears of the Indian chief were well founded.
One of the hunters offered himself. The conspirators concealed themselves on either side the road, and awaited, lying in the shrubs, the return of their messenger. He was a half-breed, Simon Muñez by name, to whom the Indians had given the soubriquet of "Dog-face," owing to his extraordinary likeness to that animal. This name had stuck to the hunter, who, nolens volens, had been compelled to accept it. He was short and clumsy, but endowed with marvellous strength; and we may say at once that he was an emissary of Red Cedar, and had only joined the hunters in order to betray them.
When he left the conspirators he proceeded toward the village whistling. He had scarce taken a dozen steps into the first street ere a door opened, and a man appeared. This man stepped forward and addressed the hunter.
"You whistle very late, my friend."
"A whistle to wake those who are asleep," the half breed made answer.
"Come in," the man continued.
Dog-face went in, and the door closed upon him. He remained in the house half an hour, then went out, and hurried back along the road he had traversed.
Red Cedar, who wished before all to avenge himself on Don Miguel Zarate, had discovered, through Fray Ambrosio, the conspirators' new plan. Without loss of time he had taken his measures in consequence, and had managed so well that, although the general, the governor, and the criminal judge were prisoners, Don Miguel must succumb in the contest he was preparing to provoke. Fray Ambrosio, to his other qualities, joined that of being a listener at doors. In spite of the distrust which his patron was beginning to display toward him on Valentine's recommendation, he had surprised a conversation between Don Miguel and General Ibañez. This conversation, immediately reported to Red Cedar, who, according to his usual custom, had appeared to attach no importance to it, had been sufficient, however, to make the squatter prepare his batteries and countermine the conspiracy.
Dog-face rejoined his companions after an hour's absence.
"Well?" Don Miguel asked him.
"All is quiet," the half-breed answered; "the inhabitants have retired to their houses, and everybody is asleep."
"You noticed nothing of a suspicious nature?"
"I went through the town from one end to the other, and saw nothing."
"We can advance, then?"
"In all security: it will only be a promenade."
On this assurance the conspirators regained their courage, Curumilla was treated as a visionary, and the order was given to advance. Still Dog-face's report, far from dissipating the Indian chief's doubts, had produced the contrary effect, and considerably augmented them. Saying nothing, he placed himself by the hunter's side, with the secret intention of watching him closely.
The plan of the conspirators was very simple. They would march directly on the Cabildo (Town hall), seize it, and proclaim a Provisional Government. Under present circumstances nothing appeared to be easier. Don Miguel and his band entered the Paso, and nothing occurred to arouse their suspicions. It resembled that town in the "Arabian Nights," in which all the inhabitants, struck by the wand of the wicked enchanter, sleep an eternal sleep. The conspirators advanced into the town with their rifle barrels thrust forward, with eye and ear on the watch, and ready to fire at the slightest alarm; but nothing stirred. As Curumilla had observed, the town was too quiet. This tranquillity hid something extraordinary, and must conceal the tempest. In spite of himself Don Miguel felt a secret apprehension which he could not master.
To our European eyes Don Miguel will perhaps appear a poor conspirator, without foresight or any great connection in his ideas. From our point of view that is possible; but in a country like Mexico, which counts its revolutions by hundreds, and where pronunciamentos take place, in most cases, without sense or reason because a colonel wishes to become a general, or a lieutenant a captain, things are not regarded so closely; and the hacendero, on the contrary, had evidenced tact, prudence, and talent in carrying out a conspiracy which, during the several years it had been preparing, had only come across one traitor. And now it was too late to turn back: the alarm had been given, and the Government was on its guard. They must go onwards, even if they succumbed in the struggle.
All these considerations had been fully weighed by Don Miguel; and he had not given the signal till he was driven into his last intrenchments, and convinced that there was no way of escape left him. Was it not a thousand fold better to die bravely with arms in their hands, in support of a just cause, than wait to be arrested without having made an attempt to succeed? Don Miguel had sacrificed his life, and no more could be expected of him.
In the meanwhile the conspirators advanced. They had nearly reached the heart of the town; they were at this moment in a little, dirty, and narrow street, called the Calle de San Isidro, which opens out on the Plaza Mayor, when suddenly a dazzling light illumined the darkness; torches flashed from all the windows; and Don Miguel saw that the two ends of the street in which he was were guarded by strong detachments of cavalry.
"Treachery!" the conspirators shouted in terror.
Curumilla bounded on Dog-face, and buried his knife between his shoulders. The half-breed fell in a lump, quite dead, and not uttering a cry. Don Miguel judged the position at the first glance: he saw that he and his party were lost.
"Let us die!" he said.
"We will!" the conspirators resolutely responded.
Curumilla with the butt of his rifle beat in the door of the nearest house, and rushed in, the conspirators following him. They were soon intrenched on the roof. In Mexico all the houses have flat roofs, formed like terraces. Thanks to the Indian chief's idea, the rebels found themselves in possession of an improvised fortress, where they could defend themselves for a long time, and sell their lives dearly.
The troops advanced from each end of the street, while the roofs of all the houses were occupied by soldiers. The battle was about to begin between earth and heaven, and promised to be terrible. At this moment General Guerrero, who commanded the troops, bade them halt, and advanced alone to the house on the top of which the conspirators were intrenched. Don Miguel beat up the guns of his comrades, who aimed at the officer.
"Wait," he said to them; and, addressing the general, "What do you want?" he shouted.
"To offer you propositions."
"Speak."
The general came a few paces nearer, so that those he addressed could not miss one of his words.
"I offer you life and liberty if you consent to surrender your leader," he said.
"Never!" the conspirators shouted in one voice.
"It is my place to answer," Don Miguel said; and then turning to the general, "What assurance do you give me that these conditions will be honourably carried out?"
"My word of honor as a soldier," the general answered.
"Very good," Don Miguel went on; "I accept. All the men who accompany me will leave the town one after the other."
"No, we will not!" the conspirators shouted as they brandished their weapons; "we would sooner die."
"Silence!" the hacendero said in a loud voice. "I alone have the right to speak here, for I am your chief. The life of brave men like you must not be needlessly sacrificed. Go, I say; I order you—I implore it of you," he added with tears in his voice. "Perhaps you will soon take your revenge."
The conspirators hung their heads mournfully.
"Well?" the general asked.
"My friends, accept. I will remain alone here. If you break your word I will kill myself."
"I repeat that you hold my word," the general answered.
The conspirators came one after the other to embrace Don Miguel, and then went down into the street without being in any way interfered with. Things happen thus in this country, where conspiracies and revolutions are on the order of the day, as it were. The defeated are spared as far as possible, from the simple reason that the victors may find themselves tomorrow fighting side by side with them for the same cause. Curumilla was the last to depart.
"All is not ended yet," he said to Don Miguel. "Koutonepi will save you, father."
The hacendero shook his head sadly.
"Chief," he said in a deeply moved voice, "I leave my daughter to Valentine, Father Seraphin, and yourself. Watch over her: the poor child will soon have no father."
Curumilla embraced Don Miguel silently and retired; he had soon disappeared in the crowd, the general having honourably kept his word.
Don Miguel threw down his weapons and descended.
"I am your prisoner," he said.
General Guerrero bowed, and made him a sign to mount the horse a soldier had brought up.
"Where are we going?" the hacendero said.
"To Santa Fe," the general answered, "where you will be tried with General Ibañez, who will doubtless soon be a prisoner like yourself."
"Oh!" Don Miguel muttered thoughtfully, "who betrayed us this time?"
"It was still Red Cedar," the general answered.
The hacendero let his head sink on his chest, and remained silent. A quarter of an hour later the prisoner left the Paso del Norte, escorted by a regiment of dragoons. When the last trooper had disappeared in the windings of the road three men left the shrubs that concealed them, and stood like three phantoms in the midst of the desolate plain.
"O heavens!" Don Pablo cried in a heart-rending voice, "my father, my sister—who will restore them to me?"
"I!" Valentine said in a grave voice, as he laid his hand on his shoulder. "Am I not the TRAIL-HUNTER?"