"Shoot me! That's rather a good joke; but I have more protectors than you think; and, if it is necessary, I will say—Señor Captain, I will say—"
It was now Don Blas's turn to tremble. The captain ordered the bravo to be silent by an imperious gesture; and, signing to Juanito to leave the room, remained alone with the assassin. I am wholly ignorant of what passed between these two worthies, and could only guess what cause had so suddenly changed the opinion of Don Blas with regard to Verduzco. I only know that, after an hour's conversation, the bravo quitted the captain's chamber under the escort of Juanito, who appeared from that moment to treat the prisoner with singular consideration.
The captain's wound did not, however, look so alarming as it did, and a considerable difference could even be observed upon his spirits. After passing two miserable days in the cabin at Hoya, I heard without much surprise that Don Blas thought himself sufficiently recovered to be able to accompany us to Jalapa in a litter, which the chief muleteer had constructed for the purpose. The wounded officer would probably find in that town better medical advice than he could get in Hoya. He could also keep his prisoner in his own hands and under his own guidance.
We had more than fifteen miles to go to reach Jalapa, and, although it was almost two hours after midday before we set out, it was possible to reach that town if we traveled at a quickened pace. This time, a reconnoitring party had been sent on in advance, and every precaution taken to guard against a new surprise. Juanito carried the prisoner behind him. The sergeant and his prisoner chatted as gayly as two friends who were going to the same fête, sharing the same horse. The convoy advanced at a rapid pace. We had now marched two leagues, and had reached San Miguel el Soldado. I then could not help observing that Juanito's horse, probably from its double burden, had lagged behind, and was now far in the rear. Restrained by curiosity from leaving the captive out of sight, I gradually checked the impetuosity of my horse in such a way as to follow Juanito and the bandit at a short distance.
"Caspita!" cried the sergeant, after a long silence, "you have on a capital pair of boots, Señor Don Tomas."
I must remind the reader that Juanito had only a bottine and a shoe.
"I am glad my boots please you," Verduzco replied, "and I would place them at your disposal, but you see I am not quite done with them yet."
"You are very kind, Señor Don Tomas," replied the sergeant, with equal courtesy, "but I mean that I would only borrow them from you when they are of no more use to you. That is always the way I do with my friends, and you are decidedly one. I shall wait, then."
The two horsemen then spoke in a low tone, and I could only catch snatches of their conversation. I was soon drawn away from the distraction into which I had been betrayed by the beauty of the landscape. We were just over San Miguel. From this elevated point the eye wandered over a charming valley, encircled by a belt of foggy mountains. The Naocampatepetl,[45] an extinct volcano, which has the appearance of a square block of stone, is the highest eminence in this range. At the foot of the peak of Macuiltepetl, upon a beautiful carpet of verdure which covers the valley, in the midst of orange-trees in full blossom, of lofty palm-trees, and bananas loaded with fruit, stands the town of Jalapa, set as in a garland of flowers. Placed between the icy fog of the mountains which surround it and the hot atmosphere of the sea-coast, Jalapa is only visited by breezes laden with perfumes. The thick vapors, which hang like a curtain over the plain, lend to it a delicious freshness. Viewed from the top of the hill, where nothing was near but gloomy pines and a stunted vegetation, similar to that of the north, the valley which now lay at my feet seemed more enchanting from the contrast which it afforded.
Day at last came to a close. Macuiltepetl, and the sides of the extinct volcano, began to lose their shades of dusky violet, and already the peak of Orizaba[46] appeared at a distance like a brilliant star. At the bottom of the picture under my eye ran an almost imperceptible white line, which terminated to the right and left in the horizon. This line was the ocean, and it was not without a lively emotion that I contemplated that immense mass of water which laves the shores of France.