[44] Bands of robbers.
CHAPTER IV.
Don Tomas Verduzco is shot by Juanito.—Death of Captain Don Blas.
It was a difficult enterprise on which we had entered. Darkness masked the march of the robbers, whose trail it would be almost impossible to follow unless during daylight, as it led over a volcanic soil. We were certain that the stolen mules had not been taken in the direction of Perote. From the place where we now were, the lights in the village of Hoya were easily discernible even through the dense fog which stretched all round us. The news of our disaster could not be long in reaching that place, and the presumption was that the robbers were not to be sought for in that direction. The ground on the left side of the road was impracticable in the darkness, from the large number of sloughs and ravines which seamed its surface. There was no doubt but that the bandits had gained the woody heights on the right which overhung the road, and that the pursuit must be begun in that quarter. A soldier remarked that the light of our torches would betray our presence. We were ignorant of the number of our enemies, who could very easily see us from the lights we carried, and prudence prompted us to hide our motions in darkness. By the captain's order we extinguished the flambeaux, not, however, without casting a glance over the ground we were going to traverse. A steep path led to the crest of a ridge that overhung the road. Three of us, of whom I was one, remained to point out this particular spot. The rest were sent to explore the different paths which were to be met with more in advance. We waited in all stillness the return of the exploring party. Thus passed some minutes. The winds, sighing through the pines which formed a gloomy arch above the hollow road at whose mouth we were stationed, shook upon our heads the condensed mists which fell drop by drop from their sloping branches. At the end of half an hour the horsemen returned. They had seen nothing, but they were certain that no other path than the one on which we were posted led to the high road. If we followed it, we would be sure of hitting the right trail. The soldiers, animated by the hope of a rich reward, were as desirous to begin the pursuit as a pack of dogs to hunt a stag. The captain alone seemed to have no heart for the work, and the orders he gave betrayed a considerable amount of indecision. We began our march, however. Unfortunately, the darkness of the night made our progress very slow. At times, and during a short halt, one of the horsemen alighted and applied his ear to the ground, but not a sound was heard but the sighing of the wind. The rocky ground, carefully examined by the light of a cigar, seemed incapable of bearing even the slightest impress. Guided, however, by an inexplicable instinct, the soldiers did not appear to doubt but that the robbers had passed that way. The gravel soon ceased to crunch beneath our tread; we were now on softer ground. We had at last some chance of discovering the trace of the men or animals which had followed that road. Half of us alighted, and by the light of our cigars, or sparks from flint and steel, began examining with the utmost minuteness every bit of moss or bare earth on the path. Tracks crossed one another in every direction; and at the end of a few minutes, a soldier uttered a cry of joy, and pointed out to us the distinct impress of the two feet of a mule. One of the marks showed that the animal had been newly shod, from the deeper dent made in the soft ground. This was, assuredly, the traces of one of the mules of the convoy that we had been forced to shoe that very morning. At this time we were marching only at random, and our delight at this discovery was intense. The trail was followed till it conducted us to a vast open clearing, a sort of square, from which several paths struck off similar to the one we had followed. There we were completely at fault.
A considerable time had now elapsed since we began our search. The captain, in order to husband our horses' strength in case a new and longer pursuit would be required, ordered a halt. The different paths, which crossed one another in such confusion, could not, he said, be properly examined unless by daylight. The men began to murmur at this unexpected check; but obedience was necessary, and they all alighted. Some large fires were kindled, more for warmth against the freezing cold of the night, and to guard against a sudden surprise, than for the light they afforded. As I took no great interest in the search, I joyfully welcomed the opportunity I had of warming myself at a good fire, and of taking some repose, of which I stood in great need.
After a few minutes' talk, all was silent. The clearing in which we were bivouacked was illuminated throughout its whole extent by the light of our fires. Nothing was heard but the rapid and measured step of the two sentinels we had posted. Several hours rolled away; our fires were just dying out, and day could not be far off, when a cracking of broken branches was heard at some distance. One of our sentinels, his carbine in one hand and a torch in the other, advanced to the place whence the noise proceeded, and soon reappeared leading a mule, which, from its color, and the pack-saddle on his back, was easily recognized as one of those that had been stolen from the convoy. His broken bridle showed that, after having been deprived of his precious burden, they had tied him up in a thicket to prevent our finding him, and that the poor beast had only been able to gain our encampment by breaking his tether. Every body was soon on foot. The woods, perviated every where with paths, unhappily afforded us no new traces, and we much feared that the robbers had divided their plunder, and gone off in a different direction. This thought, which discouraged us so much, produced quite a different effect upon the captain. Up to this time Don Blas had seemed to take no interest in the pursuit, but now he flew into a violent passion, and uttered the most violent menaces against the bandits, whose daring had caused us to lose so much.
"Ah!" cried he, "if chance but throws any of them into my hands, I shall shoot them without benefit of clergy."
Speaking thus, Don Blas walked backward and forward, hitting the ferns which branched out above us with his sabre.
"Whom will you shoot?" I asked.