Yet in spite of all this, a carriage containing a lady and her maid—for such were their relative positions, though both were alike dressed in plain black gowns and the common blue reboso—entered in the early afternoon of a summer’s day the narrow gorge that led by circuitous windings through the rocks to the great gorge that formed the entrance to the wide valley of Tres Hermanos, whose entire extent offered to the eye the wondrous fruitfulness so rich and varied in itself, so startling in contrast to the desolation passed to reach it.
The midday halt had been a short one, for it was the rainy season, and progress was necessarily slow over the swollen watercourses and the obstructions of accumulated sands and pebbles, the masses of cactus and branches of trees and shrubs, which had been brought down by recent storms. At times it seemed impossible that the carriage, although drawn by four stout mules, could proceed, and from time to time the servant looked anxiously through the window. But the mistress was equal to all emergencies, herself giving directions to the perplexed driver and his assistant, and though she had been travelling for more than two days over a road usually easily passed in one, allowing no sign or word of weariness or impatience to escape her.
But this carriage and its occupants would have appeared to a passer-by the least important factor in the caravan of which it formed a part; for it was encircled and almost concealed by a band of mounted men, clad in suits of brownish leather, glimpses of the red waist-band glistening with knives and pistols showing from beneath their striped blankets, long knives and lassos hanging at their saddle-bows, rifles in their sinewy right hands, while from beneath their wide hats their keen eyes investigated sharply every jutting rock and peered into the distance with an air of half-defiant, half-fearful expectancy,—for these were men taken from her own estate, who idle retainers as they had been in her great bare house in the city where Doña Isabel Garcia had lived for years in melancholy state, thrilled with clannish fidelity to their mistress and passionate love for their tierra to which they were returning, and with that vague delight in the possibility of a fight which arouses in man both chivalrous and brutish daring, as the smell of blood arouses the love of slaughter in the tamest beast.
In front of these rode the conductor of the party clad in a half-military fashion, as became the character he had earned for eccentric daring, the reputation of which perhaps more than actual bravery made him eminently successful in guiding safely the party wise or rich enough to secure his escort. This man was known as Tio Reyes, though his appearance did not justify the honorary title of Uncle, for he was still in the prime of life; but it was applied to him in tones of jesting yet affectionate respect by his followers who had joined the party with him, and adopted by the others to whom he was a stranger,—for at the last moment he had appeared just as they were leaving Guanapila, and with a brief word to the mistress, to which in much surprise and some annoyance she had agreed, had placed himself at their head.
In the rear of those we have described came four or five mules laden with provisions, necessaries for camping, and some private baggage; these were driven by arrieros who ran at their sides, for the travelling pace of horses did not exceed that of those trained runners.
The journey, wearisome as it had proved, had so far been made without alarms, and upon nearing the boundaries of Tres Hermanos much of the anxiety though none of the vigilance of the escort subsided; when suddenly upon the glaring sunshine of the day, all the hotter and clearer from the recent rains, rose in the distance a sort of mist, which filled the narrow road and blurred the outline of the towering rocks. The guide paused for a moment and glanced back at the escort. Each hand grasped tighter the ready rifle; at a word the carriage was stopped, the baggage mules were driven up and enclosed within the square hastily formed by the armed men,—for upon that clear day, after the rains, the tramp of many feet was requisite to raise that cloud of dust, and these precautions were but prudent, whether the advancing troop were friends or foes.
Tio Reyes, after disposing his force to his satisfaction, rode forward with his lieutenant to meet the advancing host, which in those few moments seemed to fill the entire range of vision, though at first with confusing indistinctness, as did the sounds that came echoing from rock to rock. The cries of men rose hoarsely above a deep and rumbling undertone, which resolved itself at last into the lowing of cattle and the bleating of sheep,—harmless and terrified wayfarers, but driven and preceded by a troop of undisciplined soldiery, ripe for deeds more tragic than the plunder of vaqueros and shepherds, who would be more likely wisely to seek shelter in the crevices of the rocks than to defy numbers before whom they were helpless.
“Señora of my soul!” cried the servant, catching a word from one of the men, “we are lost! Virgin of Succors, pray for us! These are some of the men of his Excellency the Governor, and you know they stop at nothing. Ah, what a chance to gain money is this! Once in the mountains what may they not demand for you? Ave Maria Sanctissima! Ah, Señora, if you would but have listened to the Señorita! to me!”
“Silence!” said the lady, in a tone as of one unused to hear her actions commented upon. “Silence! thou wilt be safe. If we are captured, thou wilt not be a prize worth retaining; it will be easy to induce them to take thee to Guanapila, and obtain a reward from my cousin, Don Hernando.”
“No, no!” cried the woman, brought to her senses by this quiet scorn and the startling proposition of her mistress. “Could I leave your grace? No, no! imprisonment, starvation, even to be made the wife of one of those bandits!” and a faint smile curled the damsel’s lip, for she was not ugly, and knew something of the gallantries of Ramirez’s followers,—“anything rather than desert my lady! Ay, my life! whom have we here?”