It was a bright and sunny afternoon. The snowy regions of the mighty Orizava,[32] and of the mightier Popocatepetl, hitherto resplendent as burnished silver, now began to exhibit flickering tints of rose-colour, which, deepening on their eastern sides into golden-yellow and bronze, reflected every moment some fresh variety of hue. The shadows of Mount Malinche and his brethren began to stretch over towards Tlascala. Deep silence prevailed throughout the entire district, broken only by the scream of the ring eagle, or the hollow howl of the coyote.[33]
On one of the mountain ridges stretching eastward from San Martin, and over which Cortes first penetrated into the valley of Tenochtitlan, two men had stationed themselves, with their backs to a mass of porphyry rock, that rose, like a fragment of some mighty castle, above a yawning barranca of prodigious depth. The lank, straight hair, and red-black complexion of these men, indicated them to be Zambos. Their dress consisted of sheepskins, fastened round their shoulders by thongs of hide, and of some ragged under garments of a coarse black woollen stuff; their heads were covered by the broad-brimmed straw hats universally worn by the Indians and castes; machetes, or long knives, were stuck in their girdles, and heavy clubs lay on the ground at their feet. To judge from their countenances, neither of the men were in a particularly good humour. Whilst one of them stood upright, and seemed to be acting as a vedette, the other lay stretched upon the turf in a sort of sullen half slumber, until his companion, weary of his watch, threw himself down in his turn; whereupon the other arose, muttering and grumbling, to take his share of duty. For some time not a word was exchanged between the two sentries.
"Maldita cosa!" at last exclaimed the Zambo who was on his legs. "By the holy Virgin of Guadalupe, if this lasts another week, if we are to be thus tracked and hunted like caguars, may the devil seize me but I"——
"I?"—interrogated his companion.
"Will say adios to you; and Mexico's freedom may take care of itself."
"Wish you a pleasant journey, Señor," replied the other yawning. "Do you see yonder birds? They are waiting for you."
And he pointed to a flight of zepilots, or Mexican ravens, with sharp claws and hooked beaks, which had just then alighted on the cliffs above their heads.
"Caramba! Calleja would soon settle your business. A dangle at a rope's end, with the hangman on your shoulders, and that before you could light a cigar, or empty a glass of pulque."
"Tonterias, nonsense!" replied the grumbler. "My ahuitzote[34] is not yet come."
"It may not be far off though. You might fall into the hands of Señor Bustamente, from whom, if I remember right, you borrowed ten of his best mules, and in your haste forgot to take off their burdens."