Chapter Forty.
A Faithful Steward.
The spot where they had now made stop—final for the night—was still far below the summit of the mountain. It was a sort of platform or bench, formed by the crest of a projecting spur, the cliff rising sheer at its back. Its level surface was only a few acres in extent, supporting a thick growth of tall evergreen pines, the long-leaved species indigenous to Mexico. Centrally there was a place clear of timber, which ran up to the cliff’s base, or rather to a building contiguous to it. In front of this they halted, Rivas saying—
“Behold my humble abode, caballeros! Let me bid you welcome to it.”
There was light enough to let them see a massive pile of mason work outlined against the cliff’s façade, while too dim for them to distinguish its features. They could make out, however, what appeared to be a pair of windows with pointed arches, and between them a large doorway, seeming more like the mouth of a cavern. Out of this came a faint scintillation of light, and as they drew up to it, a candle could be seen burning inside a sort of covered porch, resembling the lych-gate of a country church. There were some stone benches outside, from one of which a man started up and advanced toward them, as he did so putting the formal question—
“Quien es?”
“Yo, Gregorio!” was the answer given by Rivas.
“El Capitan!” exclaimed the questioner, in a tone also telling of pleased surprise. “And free again! I’m so glad, Don Ruperto! Praise to the Lord for delivering you!”
“Thanks, good Gregorio! And while you’re about it, you may as well give part of your praise to a lady, who had something to do with it—indeed, two of them.”
“Ah! Señor Capitan, I think I know one of them anyhow, and in all Mexico I can say—ay, swear it—”
“True, true!” interrupted the Captain. “But stay your asseveration. There’s no time to talk about the Señoritas now. My friends and I are in want of something to eat. We’re as hungry as coyotes. What have you got in the larder?”
“Not much, I fear, your worship. And the cook’s gone to bed, with everybody else. But they’ll only be too delighted to get up when they hear it’s your worship come back. Shall I go and rouse them, Señor?”
“No, no. Let them sleep it out. Any cold thing will do for us. We’re as much fatigued as famished, and wish to be in bed ourselves as soon as possible. So look out whatever eatables there are, and don’t forget the drinkables. I trust the cellar isn’t as low as the larder?”
“No, Señor. Of that I can speak with more confidence. Not a cork has been drawn since you left us—I mean of the best wines. Only the common Canario was drunk in your absence.”
“In that case, mayor-domo, we may sup satisfactorily, so far as the liquids are concerned, should the solids prove deficient. Bring a bottle of Burgundy, another of the Brown Madeira, and, let me see—yes, one of old Pedro Ximenes. I suppose the brethren have used up all my best cigars?”
“Not one of them, Señor. The Havannahs have been under lock and key, too. I gave out only puros.”
“What a faithful steward you’ve proved yourself, Gregorio! Well, along with the wine, let us have a bundle of Imperadores. We haven’t tasted tobacco for days, and are all dying for a smoke.”
By this time they had entered the porch, and were passing on through a long corridor, still more dimly illuminated. But there was light issuing from a side-door, which stood open. By this Rivas made stop, with word and gesture signifying to the others to pass on inside, which they did. Not all of them, however; only Kearney and Rock. A different disposition he meant making of the dwarf than giving him Burgundy and Madeira to drink, with the smoking of “Emperor” cigars. Pointing to the crooked semblance of humanity, at which Gregorio was gazing with a puzzled air, he whispered to the latter—
“Take the beast back, and shut him up in one of the cells. You may give him something to eat, but see to his being securely kept. Insignificant as he looks, there’s mischief in him, and he might take it into his head to stray. You comprehend, Gregorio?”
“I do, your worship. I’ll take care to stow him safe.”
Saying which, the mayor-domo of the establishment, for such Gregorio was, caught the hunchback by one of his ears—grand auricles they were—and led him away along the corridor, with the prison chain trailing behind.
Rivas did not stay till they were out of sight, but turning, stepped inside the room into which he had ushered the other two.
It was rather a large apartment, but plainly and sparsely furnished; a deal table and half a dozen common chairs, with leathern backs and bottoms, such as may be seen in most Mexican houses. It was better supplied with arms than household effects; several guns standing in corners, with swords hanging against the walls, and a variety of accoutrements—all giving it more the appearance of a guard-house than the reception-room of a gentleman’s mansion.
“Now amigos” said the Mexican, after rejoining his guests, on whose faces he could not fail to note an odd inquiring expression, “I can at last say to you, feel safe, if I can’t assure you of a supper good as I’d wish to give. Still, if I mistake not, ’twill be superior to our prison fare. Por Dios! Having to put up with that was punishment enough of itself, without being set to work in the sewers.”
“Ah,” remarked Kearney, speaking for himself and the Texan, “had you been one of us prisoners from Mier up to Mexico, the diet you complain of would have seemed luxury for Lucullus.”
“Indeed! What did they give you to eat?”
“Brown beans only half boiled, tortillas, usually cold; and sometimes, for a whole stretch of twenty-four hours, nothing at all.”
“Carramba!” exclaimed the Mexican. “That was hard usage. But nothing to surprise. Just as Santa Anna might be expected to treat his captive enemies, whether of his own people, or as yourselves, foreigners. More cruel tyrant never ruled country. But his reign, thank Heaven, will not be long. I’ve reason for saying that, and better still for thinking it.”
The little interlude of dialogue was brought to a close by the entrance of the mayor-domo loaded with bottles and glasses. He had orders to bring the wine first, the cigars along with it.
Lumping all down upon the table, he left them to wait upon themselves, while he went off to ransack the pantry soon to return with a sufficiency of viands, and savoury enough to satisfy men who had just come out of the Acordada. There was cold mutton, ham, and venison, maize bread, and “guesas de Guatemala,” with a variety of fruit to follow. Verily a supper at which even a gourmand might not cavil; though it was but the débris of a dinner, which seemed to have been partaken of by a goodly array of guests.
Not long lingered they over it, before whom it was set a second time. Overcome by the toil and struggle of days, and more the mental worry attendant, even the wine freely quaffed failed to excite them afresh. Rest and sleep they more needed and much desired; all glad when Gregorio again showed his face at the door, saying—
“Caballeros, your sleeping rooms are ready.”