“It will not be necessary for you to keep me a prisoner,” Señor Zorro replied, his eyes narrowing. “Lead your own soldiers, as you will, and be quick about it, and do not listen to the advice of Captain Ramón. The señorita who is held a captive is my betrothed. Her name is Lolita Pulido. At least allow me to remain free to aid in her rescue.”
“I cannot forget that you are Señor Zorro as well as Don Diego Vega, and that the Pulido family does not have the friendship of the Governor,” the lieutenant answered. “Captain Ramón has preferred a charge against you also. You remain in the presidio a prisoner.”
The lieutenant picked up a silver whistle from the table, and started to put it to his lips to blow a blast that would call his orderly. But Señor Zorro, it appeared, had no intention of being kept a prisoner. He glanced swiftly toward Captain Ramón again, and then darted forward.
The lieutenant’s whistle was knocked from his left hand, but Señor Zorro did not succeed in getting possession of the officer’s sword as he hurled him aside. He dashed on to the wall, struck it and whirled away, and came back with considerable momentum. Captain Ramón had started toward the door.
But as he put out a hand to pull the door open Señor Zorro grasped a small stool that stood at one end of the long table and hurled it with precise aim. It struck the captain’s arm and caused him to recoil with a cry of pain.
The lieutenant was young, and enjoyed the recklessness of his youth. He bellowed his challenge and charged. Señor Zorro caught his sword against the dagger and warded off the blow. But, to do so, he was compelled to give some ground, and so Captain Ramón got to the door and opened it.
“Troopers!” he cried. “Help! This way! Your commandante is attacked!”
Señor Zorro fenced the lieutenant for a moment, but he knew well that he could not do so for long with any great degree of success. And suddenly he dropped to his knees, and the lieutenant, lunging with his blade, tripped over him and sprawled on the floor. Zorro was upon his feet again before Captain Ramón could reach his side. Again he whirled, and Captain Ramón recoiled against the wall, his sword advanced, his left arm stretched out across a wood panel.
Señor Zorro did not care to encounter the long blade with his dagger; besides, he heard the soldiers coming. His arm flashed, and the dagger flew through the air. Through the sleeve of Captain Ramón’s uniform coat went the sharp blade, to be driven almost to the hilt in the wood beyond. The captain was held safely for the moment.
There was one large window in the officer’s room, and it was swinging open. Zorro dashed for it, reached it, sprang up as the wondering troopers rushed in through the door. Through the window Señor Zorro plunged, sprawled on the ground for an instant, and then was upon his feet again and running with renewed vigor toward the front of the building.