“Ah, Colonel Rodriguez, my dear friend, the President himself has said that, after he has beaten them at the northern border, as he surely will, the Americans are sure to make another attempt by way of Vera Cruz. That, too, was the opinion of our brave friend, Colonel Guerra, and he is making every preparation for a siege. It is part of our grateful hospitality to our guest, Señor Carfora, that his friends have supplied the Castle of San Juan de Ulua with the ammunition which will be needed. He came over on the ship which brought it, and he has remained with us ever since.”
Just then Ned Crawford knew what it was to feel very mean indeed. He felt as if he himself were telling a large lie, and his cheeks flushed red-hot. He was aware, nevertheless, that even Señora Tassara had not been told everything, and that Señora Paez was reasonably honest in what she had been saying. There was no necessity for enlightening Colonel Rodriguez. Hardly, therefore, had the old gentleman vehemently exclaimed, “They never can take San Juan de Ulua!” than Ned went hastily back to his first subject of the ancient history.
“That’s it,” he said. “I want to find out how Cortes got ashore, and how he fought his way from the coast to this place. He must have had to cross the mountains, through the passes, just as our party did when we came.”
“Yes,” said the colonel. “He had to climb seven thousand and five hundred feet up out of the tierra caliente, and, if any gringos ever try that path, they will find all the passes full of fighting Mexicans and good artillery well posted. Hernando Cortes had all the gunpowder there was in America when he tried that road.”
“My dear young friend,” said Señora Paez, “you will find plenty of the books you wish for. My husband was fond of collecting them. After dinner, the señorita will show you the library, and you may read anything there.”
Ned was silent once more, for he was still feeling mean, and was asking himself whether he were not, after all, a kind of spy in the Mexican camp, going around in disguise, and all the while wishing that he could help the American army to capture the city.
“Anyhow,” he thought, “I can’t help myself just now, and when the city is taken, everything in the Paez house will be entirely safe. I shouldn’t wonder if that old coffee-urn will be safer from thieves than it is now. There have been half a dozen burglaries since we came, and I’ve seen hundreds of the wildest-looking kinds of fellows from the mountains. Every man of them looked as if he’d like to steal some silver.”
While he was thinking, he was also listening, with a great deal of interest, to a description which the old officer was giving of the defences of Monterey, and of the reasons why the American troops would surely be defeated. It appeared that he had at one time been the commander of the garrison of the fortress known as the Black Fort, just outside of the walls of Monterey, on the north, and he evidently believed it to be impregnable. Ned was no soldier, and it did not occur to him to ask, as General Taylor might have done, whether or not it was possible to take the town without wasting time in taking the fort first.
“Come, Señor Carfora,” said Felicia, as they all arose from the table, “I will show you the library. You can’t do much reading there to-night, though, for the lamps have all been taken away. I do not wish to go there, anyhow, except in the daytime. It is a pokerish kind of place. Do you believe in ghosts? I do not, but, if I were a ghost, I would pick out that library for a good place to hide in. Come along. You are a foreigner, and any kind of good Mexican ghost won’t like you.”
Whether she herself did so or not, she led the way, and no lamp was as yet needed, although the day was nearly over and the shadows were coming. Up-stairs they went and through a short passageway in the second story of the Paez mansion, and they were almost in the dark when she said to him: