The soldiers grasped him roughly, hurried him inside and to the guardroom. There, Señor Zorro tried to fight again, but could accomplish nothing against so many foes. They lashed his ankles and knees and tied his wrists together in front of him. And then one fetched the maniac’s shirt. The latter was exactly what it was named, an instrument used on violent maniacs to prevent them harming themselves or anybody else. It was a long bag of leather, constructed so that a man could be slipped into it bound, and the top of the bag then gathered around his neck with a leather thong.
Protesting to the last, Señor Zorro was put inside the leather bag and the neck thong tightened. And then they propped him up on a bench in a corner, and left the room. The door closed; he heard the bar go up against it.
The soldiers hurried away. There was a moment of silence. And then Señor Zorro heard the clattering of horses’ hoofs as they rode toward the highway. And he was left behind, bound and helpless, in the guardroom of the presidio, in the maniac’s shirt, and with two troopers just outside the door.
The Further Adventures of Zorro, Part VI
CHAPTER XXVII.
FRAY FELIPE USES HIS WIT.
Barbados, who had been drinking heavily of the rich, stolen wine since the culmination of the fight with the caballeros and the crew of the trading schooner, had reached the stage where he was surly, mean, dangerous. The sensational escape of Señor Zorro had been as oil poured upon flames with the pirate chief. He roared and cursed like a fiend after Captain Ramón had ridden away in pursuit, cuffed some of his men out of the way, and then stood with his fists planted against his hips, his feet wide apart, a black look in his face, his tiny eyes glittering ominously as he glanced toward the adobe building wherein the caballero prisoners were quartered.
Sanchez and the others who knew Barbados best had been busy keeping out of his way and so escaping trouble, but now Barbados bellowed loudly for his lieutenant, and Sanchez was forced to disclose himself. He approached his chief warily, ready to turn and run if Barbados was in a belligerent mood; but he saw at a glance that what wrath Barbados was enjoying was not directed toward his second in command.
“Sanchez! Fiend of the fiends!” he shouted. “By my naked blade, it is in my mind that we are growing weary because of the lack of sport.”