From the Piazza of La Rinconada, Citlapetel was in full view, with its quick acclivity guiding the eye of the observer up to the azure canopy of heaven.
That line of pure virgin snow should have been suggestive of spotless innocence. Alas! to me, at that moment, it was but the suggester of thoughts of a far different character.
On the slope of that majestic mountain, stood the town of Orizava, the capital of the surrounding country. I knew—a knowledge all my own, and not shared by my comrades in the American army—that the lame tyrant of Mexico had fled towards Orizava, and was at that moment safe beyond pursuit in this city of the mountains.
It was not likely I should so soon have forgotten the contents of that infamous epistle found on the catre so lately occupied by the Mexican commander-in-chief, nor the vile conditions therein promised. “En buen tiempo dormira ella en la tienda, y los brazos de vuestra Excellenza.” Too truly did I remember them.
Now, certainly, did I perceive the scheme that the salteador was in the act of executing. Santa Anna should, by that time, be somewhere in the neighbourhood of Orizava, if not in the town itself. Orizava was the destination of Rayas and his robbers!
It needed no further consideration, had there been time for such, either to explain the past or forecast the future. The girl had been taken prisoner on the road between Cerro Gordo and the village of El Plan—captured, perhaps, but a few moments after that parting I had fondly deemed reluctant; ah! perhaps even through the delay caused by myself, and which had separated her from her escort of Jarochos? It might be in the midst of that escort, dismayed and scattered by the onslaught of the salteadores. It might be that the unfortunate Calros—her brother—
My conjectures were cut short. The robber chief stood before me. His air of savage exultation was easily interpreted. He had come to prepare me for the spectacle which he had promised to his companions!
I knew not what was to be its nature; nor do I know to this hour. It was like one of those promised performances of the theatre—conspicuous in the programme, but omitted in the action. It never came to pass.
The brigand directed me to be unbound, and separated from the horse, an order that was instantly executed by his brace of subordinates who had been more especially guarding me.
