Nothing had been heard of the creature since, so far as José knew; and therefore it might be supposed his appearance would have been welcome, promising some news of those with whom he had been last seen. But so far from the cochero stepping out into the road to receive him, he but drew closer to the cliff, where an embayment in black shadow promised him perfect concealment.
Soon after Zorillo came shuffling along through the dust, keeping close to the shaded side of the road. Having cleared the skirts of the village, however, he was less careful now. Not likely there would be any one abroad at that hour—for it had gone ten—but if so, there was the Pedregal alongside, to which he could retreat. Evidently he had not seen José as when first seen himself he was turning a corner, and the other had been for some time in shadow.
When nearly opposite the meadow gate he also made a stop, with a start, at perceiving the two horses’ heads stretched over it, one with a cleft ear! His start came through recognition of them.
“Oho!” he exclaimed, “you there, too, my noble frisones? Caspita! this is meeting one’s old acquaintances all in a heap! It now only needs to encounter cochero, and the party will be complete! Well, I may live in hope to see him too, sometime; and won’t there be a reckoning when we’re all together again?”
He was about to pass on, when a clattering of hoofs was heard behind, in the direction of the pueblo, as if horsemen were issuing out of it. Shortly after, a dark clump was seen rounding the corner, and coming on along the white ribband of road. The sabres clanking against stirrup-irons proclaimed it a cavalry troop.
Like a tarantula retreating to its tree-cave, the dwarf darted in under the cliff, there crouching down—so close to José that the latter could have almost touched him with the tips of his fingers. He had no desire to do so, no thought of it; but the very opposite. His wish was to avoid an encounter; and good reason for it, as he was soon after made aware. Fortunately for him, the hunchback neither saw nor had a suspicion of his proximity. With face turned to the road, he was altogether occupied with the party approaching.
The Hussars turned out—an escort of some eight or ten files, with two officers at its head; these riding side by side, and a little in advance. They were chatting gaily and rather vociferously; the voice of him who spoke loudest being well-known to José. For Colonel Santander, whether welcome or not, was a frequent visitor at the casa de campo of Don Ignacio Valverde. And the dwarf now remembered it too, as he did so abandoning all attempt at concealment, and gliding out into the middle of the road.
“Carajo!” simultaneously shouted the two officers, as their horses reared up, snorting at the strange shape so suddenly presented before them. “What the Demonio is it, if not Satan himself?” added Santander.
“No, Señor Coronet,” returned Zorillo. “Not the devil; only a poor creature whom God has cursed by making him in a shape that isn’t altogether fashionable. But just for that reason I trust being recalled to your Excellency’s remembrance—am I not?”
“Ah! You were in the Acordada?”