Transcriber’s Note: New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.

The Further Adventures of Zorro

by Johnston McCulley

Author of “The Mark of Zorro,” etc.

Copyright, 1922, by Johnston McCulley.

CONTENTS

The Further Adventures of Zorro, Part I

CHAPTER I.
LAND RATS AND WATER RATS.

Throughout a long summer day of more than a hundred years ago the high fog had obscured the flaming ball of sun, and the coast of Southern California had been bathed in a haze.

Then came the night, with indication of a drizzle that did not materialize. For the bank of fog suddenly was split as though with a sword, and the brilliant moon poured down, and the riven mist floated away to let the land be blessed with brilliance and the tossing sea dance in the silvery moonbeams.

Approaching the shore came a sinister vessel, craft of ill omen. She sailed slowly under a spare spread of canvas, as though fearing to reach her destination too soon, and her lights were not burning. The hiss of the waters from her bows was a lazy sort of hiss, but the more suggestive because of that. It was the playful hiss of a serpent always ready to become enraged. Her appearance betokened stealth and crime.

She was low, rakish, swift. No proper seaman commanded her, since her decks were foul and her sides badly in need of protecting paint. But her sailing gear was in perfect condition, and the man at her helm could have told that she answered to her rudder like a love-sick maiden to her swain.

Amidships stood her commander, one Barbados, a monstrous giant of a man with repugnant visage. Gigantic brass rings were in his mutilated ears. His eyes were pig-like—tiny, glittering, wholly evil. His great gnarled hands continually were forming themselves into brutish fists. He wore no shirt, no shoes. His chest and back were covered with thick, black, matted hair.

“By the saints!” he swore in a voice that drowned the slush of the waters against the vessel’s sides. “Sanchez! Fools and devils! Is it necessary to shout to the world our villainy? Look at that flag flapping against the mast! Three hours after set of sun, and the flag of the devil still flies! Discipline! Ha!”

“The flag!” Sanchez bellowed. There was no definite order given, but the man nearest the mast was quick to lower the flag. Sanchez looked back toward Barbados, and Barbados grunted and turned away to look toward the distant land.

Sanchez was a smaller edition of Barbados, the evil lieutenant of an evil chief. He was short and thick, and many a man had misjudged the strength of his shoulders and arms and had discovered his sorry error too late. The eyes of Sanchez glittered also, first as he looked at Barbados, and then turned, as the chief had, to glance toward the distant land.

A fair land it was, bathed in the mellow light of the moon. Along the shore uncertain shadows played, like shapeless fairies at a game. And here was a darker streak, where a cañon ran down to the sea—a cañon with black depths caused by the rank undergrowth and stubby trees.

“There!” Barbados bellowed. He pointed toward the mouth of the cañon, where the water hissed white against a jumble of rocks. “We go ashore there, against the cliffs!”

Again there was no regular command, but the course of the pirate craft was changed a little, and she sailed slowly toward the spot Barbados had indicated. The chief grunted once more, and Sanchez hurried quickly to his side.

“We land twoscore men!” Barbados commanded. “Twoscore will be enough. I lead them, and you are to go with me. The others will remain aboard and take the ship off shore again, and return to-morrow night two hours before the dawn.”

“Sí!” Sanchez said.

“’Tis to be a pretty party, by the saints! Rich loot, food and wines, honey and olives, gold and jewels and precious stones! Bronze native wenches for such as like them! And time enough for it, eh? Ha! For some four months we have sailed up and down the coast, now and then landing and raiding to get a few pigs and cows. ’Tis time for a bold stroke! And this—”

“It is arranged?” Sanchez questioned.

“Am I in the habit of rushing in where things are not arranged?” Barbados demanded. “Señor Pirate, do you take me to be a weak and silly fool?”

“If I did,” Sanchez replied, “I would have more wit than to say so to your face!”

“Ha! Is it arranged? When the Governor’s own man arranges it? There is a precious pair, the Governor and his man!” said Barbados, laughing raucously. “Pirates and rogues we may be, but we can take lessons in villainy from some of the gentry who bear the names of caballeros, but have foul blood in their veins!”

“The thing has an evil look,” Sanchez was bold enough to assert. “I like not a task too easy. By my naked blade, that which looks easy often is not! If this should prove to be a trap—”

Barbados gave a cry of rage and whirled toward him suddenly, and Sanchez retreated a single step, and his hand dropped to the naked cutlass in his belt of tanned human skin.

“Try to draw it, fool!” Barbados cried. “I’ll have you choked black in the face and hurled overboard for shark meat before your hand reaches the blade!”

“I made no move to draw,” Sanchez wailed.

“There are times when I wonder why I allow you to remain at my side,” Barbados told him, folding his gigantic arms across his hairy chest. “And there are times when I wonder whether your heart is not turning to that of a woman and your blood to water or swill. A trap, you fool! Am I the man to walk into traps? Kindly allow me to attend to the finer details of this business. And a pretty business it is!”

“The village of Reina de Los Angeles is miles in the interior,” Sanchez wailed. “I do not like to get out of sight of the sea. With the pitching planks of a deck beneath my bare feet—”

“Beware lest you have beneath your feet the plank that is walked until a man reaches its end and drops to watery death!” Barbados warned him. “Enough of this! Pick the men who are to land, and get ready the boats!”

An hour later the anchor had been dropped, and the pirate craft had swung with the tide and was tugging at her chains like a puppy at a leash. Over the sides went the boats, Barbados growling soft curses at the noise his men made.

“We have nothing to fear, fools and devils!” he said. “But there will be no surprise if some converted native sees us and carries to Reina de Los Angeles word of our arrival. There is many a hacienda in these parts where pirates are detested. Silence, rogues! You’ll have your fill of noise to-morrow night!”

Without knowing it, Barbados practiced a deal of psychology. These wild men of the sea had before them a journey of some miles inland, and they knew it and hated it, but the pirate chief continually hinted to them of the rich loot at the end of the present trip, and his hints served their purpose well.

Toward the shore they rowed, tossing on the breakers, making for the dark spot where the cañon ran down into the sea. There a cliff some twelve feet high circled back into the land, forming a natural shelter against the land breeze at times and the sea winds at other times.

Through the surf they splashed, half naked, carrying naught except their weapons, and no weapons save their cutlasses. They gathered on the beach and watched the boats return to the ship, shrieking coarse jests at the men compelled to remain behind.

Barbados took from his belt a tiny scrap of parchment and looked at it closely. With him this passed for a map. He called Sanchez to his side, turned his back to the sea, and looked along the dark reaches of the cañon.

“Forward!” Barbados said. “And let there be little noise about it! If we stumble across one of the accursed natives, slit his throat and so silence it.”

“And if we meet a wandering fray of the missions, slit him into ribbons,” Sanchez added, chuckling.

To his wonder, Barbados grasped his arm so that Sanchez thought the bone must break.

“Enough of that!” Barbados cried. “Touch no fray in violence except I give the word!”

“You love the robes and gowns?” Sanchez asked, in wonder.

“I love to protect myself,” Barbados replied. “It is an ill thing to assault a fray if it can be avoided.” He stopped speaking for a moment, and seemed to shiver throughout the length and breadth of his gigantic frame. “I had a friend once who struck a fray,” he added in a whisper. “I do not like to remember what happened to him. Forward!”

Inland they tramped, mile after mile, keeping to the cañons, following an arroyo now and then, dodging from dark spot to dark spot, while Barbados growled curses at the bright moon and Sanchez continually admonished the men behind to keep silent.

It was a journey they disliked, but they liked to think of the loot they would find at the end of it. On they went, toward the sleeping town of Reina de Los Angeles. Besides Barbados and Sanchez, few of them had seen the town. Pirates had been treated harshly there when they had wandered inland. But now something had happened, it appeared, that made a raid on the town a comparatively safe enterprise.

An hour before dawn they stumbled across a native, caught him as he started to flee, and left his lifeless body behind. Then came the day, and they went into hiding in a jumble of hills, within easy striking distance of the town. They had covered ground well.

Sprawled on the sward they slept. Barbados, a little way aside, consulted his poor map once more, and then called Sanchez to his side.

“Since we may have to split our force, it were well that you knew more of this business,” he said.

“I am listening, Barbados.”

“This man who is to meet us to-morrow night at the edge of the town is a high official.”

“I have heard you call him the Governor’s man.”

“Even so. He is to have matters arranged so that the town will be at our mercy. It never has been raided properly. It will be necessary, perhaps, to steal horses, and possibly a carreta or two in which to carry the loot. The town will be wide open for us, my friend.”

“There is a presidio in Reina de Los Angeles, and where there is a presidio there are soldiers,” Sanchez reminded him.

“And where there are soldiers there are fools,” Barbados added. He stopped speaking long enough to chuckle. “I am not afraid of the soldiers. This man with whom we are to deal will care for the troops.”

“I fail to understand it,” Sanchez said, shaking his head. “Why should such things be? Do we split the loot with this high official?”

“Dream of innocence, listen!” Barbados hissed. “Listen, and comprehend, else I choke you to death! An emissary came to me in the south from this high official, and through him arrangements were made. Things have happened since last we were in the vicinity of Reina de Los Angeles. The Governor, I know, left San Francisco de Asis and journeyed south with his gallant company. And while he was at Reina de Los Angeles something happened that caused him to hate the town. There even was talk for a time of him being forced to abdicate his high station.”

“Ha! More mystery!” Sanchez growled.

“It seems that in the southland there was a pest of a highwayman known as Señor Zorro, and whom men called the Curse of Capistrano. A land pirate, spit upon him! How can a man be a pirate on the land? However, this Señor Zorro did several things worthy of note. From what I have heard, I would we had a dozen of him in the ship’s company. We could raid the whole of Mexico, capture the Spanish fleets and attack Europe.”

“This Señor Zorro must be quite some man,” Sanchez observed.

“I have heard but little, but enough to convince me that I would have him for a friend rather than an enemy. He is a sort of devil. Now he is here and now he is gone. Like a ghost he comes and like a specter he disappears. Ha! You, a pirate, cross yourself!”

“I am afraid of no live man who lives, save perhaps yourself,” Sanchez observed. “But I like not this talk of ghosts.”

“Here is the jest, fool and friend! It develops after a time that this terrible Señor Zorro is nothing but a caballero out to have a bit of fun and protect the weak. There is a waste of time for you—protecting the weak. And other sundry caballeros joined hands with him and punished minor officials who sought to steal and deal crookedly. That is right and proper. If a thief, be a thief! If a pirate, be a pirate! But do not play at being an honest man and try to be thief and pirate at the same time.”

“Ha!” Sanchez grunted, meaning that he wished the sermon to end and the tale to continue.

“This Señor Zorro, whose real name I have forgotten if ever I knew it, carved his initial with his sword into the cheeks and foreheads of many men. They call it the Mark of Zorro. And when his identity was disclosed his friends stood by him and told the Governor that it were best if he return to San Francisco de Asis and grace Reina de Los Angeles with his continual absence.”

“And did he?”

“He did,” Barbados replied, “with hatred in his heart for this same Reina de Los Angeles. He did not abdicate, of course. And he craves revenge.”

“Ha! Here is where we enter?”

“It is,” Barbados replied. “We raid the town and take what we will, and the Governor hears of it, sends soldiers running wildly up and down the coast, and winks at himself in his looking-glass. For the information and protection we get, we hand to the Governor’s man at a certain time and place a certain share of the loot. Which we well can afford, since we are to get it so easily.”

“If we forget to hand it—” Sanchez began.

“Friend and fool! By the saints! Are you an honest pirate or no? We shall deal fairly. Think of the future. It is not only Reina de Los Angeles. There is San Juan Capistrano, and rich San Diego de Alcála to come after. By that time we have this pretty Governor and certain of his officials in our mesh, and do as we will. Ha! What knaves! I would rather be an honest pirate than a politician any day!”

The day passed and the dusk came. And once yet again Barbados indulged in curses. For it was a beautiful moonlight night, half as light as the day that had just died, and a man could be seen afar. But Barbados led his wretched company on toward the town, and after a time they came to the crest of a slope and saw lights twinkling in the distance.

Stretched on the ground so as not to form a silhouette against the sky, Barbados looked over the scene. He could see the plaza, fires burning before the huts of the natives, twinkling lights in the windows of the pretentious houses where lived the men of wealth and blood and rank. To one side was the presidio, and to the other the church.

Barbados grunted an order to Sanchez and crept forward alone. He approached the end of the village, reached a spot where the shadows were deep, and crouched to wait.

For half an hour he waited, grumbling his impatience. Then there came to him a figure muffled in a long cloak. Barbados hissed a word that had been agreed upon. The figure stepped quickly to his side.

“You are ready?”

“Ready, señor,” Barbados replied.

“Where are your men?”

“In hiding three hundred yards away, señor.”

“It were best to strike in about an hour. The soldiers will be sent toward the south on a wild goose chase.”

“I understand, señor.”

“I ride back toward the hills to a hacienda to pay a social call. It would not do for me to be here, of course.”

“Certainly not, señor.”

“The way will be open to you. Take your will with the town, but do not use the torch, except it be on the hut of some native. As soon as you have your loot, make for the sea again. The soldiers will be sent on a useless trail.”

“It is well arranged, señor. We’ll strike as soon as the troopers are at a sufficient distance.”

“There is something else. You must send a few men of your force to the hacienda of Don Carlos Pulido, three miles to the north.”

“What is this, señor?” Barbados asked.

“A little matter of abducting a woman for me.”

“Ha!”

“The Señorita Lolita Pulido, understand. She is to be seized and conducted to the coast and taken aboard ship. She is not to be harmed, but treated with every respect. In four or five days I shall meet you at the rendezvous on the southern coast, and claim her as my share of the loot. Do this well, and that is all the share of loot I ask this time.”

“A mere detail,” Barbados said.

“If the hacienda is disturbed a bit during the abduction, it will not cause the heartbreak of the Governor. This Don Carlos Pulido is no friend of His Excellency.”

“I understand, señor.”

“The señorita expects to become the bride to-morrow of Don Diego Vega—curse him! That large house at the side of the plaza is his. When you are raiding the town, Barbados, pay special attention to that house. And should he get a knife between his ribs there will be no sorrow on my part.”

“I begin to comprehend,” Barbados replied.

“I may depend upon you?”

“Sí, señor! We attend to the house of this Don Diego Vega and to the don personally. I shall send a small force to abduct the girl and take her to the shore. She will be waiting for you at the rendezvous to the south.”

“Good! Watch when the soldiers ride away, and strike an hour later. Adios!”

The cloak dropped for a moment as the man from the village straightened himself. Barbados got a good look at his face as the moonlight struck it. He gasped.

“Your forehead!” he said.

“It is nothing. That cursed beast of a Zorro put it there!”

Barbados looked again. On the man’s forehead was a ragged “Z,” put there in such a manner that it would remain forever. There was a moment of silence, and then Barbados found himself alone. The other had slipped away through the shadows.

Barbados grinned. “Here is a double deal of some sort, but it need bring me no fear,” he mused. “Here would be startling news for all men to know. Wants to steal a girl now, does he? For his share of proper loot I’d steal him half a score of girls!”

He grinned again and started back toward his men. Barbados did not fear the soldiers, and he knew they would be sent away. He could be sure of that. For the conspirator who had come to him out of the dark was none other than Captain Ramón, commandante of the presidio at Reina de Los Angeles.

CHAPTER II.
PEDRO THE BOASTER.

Sergeant Pedro Gonzales, a giant of a wine-guzzling soldier whose heart was as large as his capacity for liquor, was known as “Pedro the Boaster.” When there were military duties to be done he was to be found at his post in the presidio, but at other times one found him at the village posada, sitting before the big fireplace and remaking the world with words.

On this moonlight night, Sergeant Pedro Gonzales crossed the plaza with a corporal and a couple of soldiers, entered the inn, and called in a loud voice for the landlord to fetch wine and be quick about it. The sergeant had learned long since that the fat landlord held him in terror, and did he but act surly and displeased he received excellent service.

“Landlord, you are as fat as your wine is thin!” Sergeant Pedro declared, sprawling at one of the tables. “I have a suspicion now and then that you keep a special wineskin for me, and mix water with my drink.”

“Señor!” the landlord protested.

“We honest soldiers are stationed here to protect you from liars and thieves and dishonest travelers up and down El Camino Real, and you treat us like the dirt beneath your boots.”

“Señor! I have the greatest respect—”

“One of these fine days,” Gonzales interrupted, “there will be trouble. Some gentleman of the highway will approach you with an idea of robbery, and you’ll shriek for the soldiery. And then, fat one, I may remember the watered wine, and be busy elsewhere!”

“But I protest—” the landlord began.

“More wine!” the sergeant shouted. “Must I get out my blade and carve your wineskins—or your own skin? More wine of the best, and you’ll get your pay when I get mine, if it is an honest score you keep. If my friend, Don Diego Vega, was here—!”

“That same friend of yours makes merry a little later in the evening,” the landlord said, as he went to fill the wine cups. “To-morrow he is to take a bride.”

“Pig, do you suppose I do not know it?” Gonzales screeched. “Think you that I have been asleep these past few months? Was I not in the thick of it when Don Diego Vega played at being Señor Zorro?”

“You were in the thick of it,” the corporal admitted, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

“Ha!” cried the sergeant. “There was a turbulent time for you! Here in this very room I fought him, blade to blade, thinking that he was some stinking highwayman. And just as I was getting the better of it—”

“How is this?” the corporal shrieked.

“Just as I was getting the better of the blade match,” Gonzales reaffirmed, glaring at the corporal, “back he went and dashed through the door! And thereafter he set the town about its own ears for some time to come.”

“It occurs to me that I saw that fight,” the corporal declared. “If you were getting the best of it at any stage, then were mine eyes at fault.”

“I know a man,” said the sergeant, darkly, “who will do extra guard duty for a score of days.”

“Ha!” the corporal grunted. “You do not like plain speech!”

“I do not like a soldier to make mock of his superiors,” the sergeant replied. “It were unseemly for me to make remarks, for instance, concerning our commandante, Captain Ramón, but let it be said that he fought this Señor Zorro, too. And Captain Ramón wears on his forehead Zorro’s mark. You will notice that there is no carved Z on my face!”

“Ha!” the corporal grunted again. “It were best, sergeant, to voice such remarks inwardly. The commandante is not proud of the mark he wears.”

Gonzales changed the subject. “The wine!” he thundered. “It goes well on a moonlight night, the same as on a stormy one. But moonlight is a poor business save for lovesick swains. ’Tis no night for a soldier. Would one expect thieves to descend through the moonlight?”

“There be pirates,” the corporal said.

“Pirates!” Gonzales’s great fist descended and met the table with a crash, sending the wine cups bouncing. “Pirates! You have noticed no pirates in Reina de Los Angeles, have you? They have not been playing around the presidio, have they? I am not saying that they know I am stationed here, however— Meal mush and goat’s milk! Pirates is my dish!”

“The town grows wealthy, and they may come,” the corporal said.

“You fear? You tremble?” Gonzales cried. “Are you soldier or fray? Pirates! By the saints, I would that they came! My sword arm grows fat from little use.”

“Talk not of pirates!” the landlord begged. “Suppose they did come?”

“And what if they did?” Gonzales demanded. “Am I not here, dolt? Are there not soldiers? Pirates? Ha!”

He sprang to his feet, those same feet spread wide apart. His hand darted down, and he whipped out his blade.

“That for a pirate!” he shouted, and made a mighty thrust at the wall. “This for a pirate!” And he slashed through the air, his blade whistling so that the corporal and soldiers sprang backward, and the four or five natives who happened to be in the inn cringed in a corner. “Pirates!” cried Gonzales. “I would I could meet one this very night! We grew stale from inaction. There is too much peace in the world! Meal mush and goat’s milk!”

The door opened suddenly. Sergeant Gonzales stopped in the middle of a sentence, and his blade stopped in the middle of an arc. And then the sergeant and the other soldiers snapped to attention, for the commandante was before them.

“Sergeant Gonzales!” Captain Ramón commanded.

“Sí!”

“I could hear you shouting half way across the plaza. If you wish to meet a pirate, perhaps you may have your wish. Rumors have been brought by natives. Mount your men and proceed along El Camino Real toward the south. Search the country well, once you are four or five miles from the town. It is a bright moonlight night, and men may be seen at a great distance.”

“It is an order!” the sergeant admitted.

“Leave but one man at the presidio as guard. Return before dawn. Have my best horse made ready, as I ride out to a hacienda for a visit. Go!”

“Sí!” Sergeant Gonzales grunted. He motioned to the soldiers, and they hurried through the door. He sheathed his sword, and when the back of Captain Ramón was turned for an instant he tossed off the wine that had been before him, and hurried after his men. The commandante drew off his gloves and sat at one of the tables.

Gonzales led the way across the plaza and toward the presidio. He was growling low down in his throat.

“This is a fine state of affairs!” he said. “Ride all night and kick up the dust! Back before dawn with nothing done!”

“But you wanted pirates,” the corporal protested.

“Think you they will stand in the middle of El Camino Real and await our pleasure?” Gonzales growled. “What pirate would be abroad a night like this? Could we but meet some—ha! There is a special reward for pirates!”

Even before they had reached the entrance of the presidio, he began shouting his orders. Torches flared, and men ran to prepare the horses. Fifteen minutes later, with Gonzales at their head, they rode across the plaza and out upon El Camino Real, their mounts snorting, their sabers rattling.

From the crest of a slope a few hundred yards away, Barbados and his evil crew watched them depart upon their mounts.

CHAPTER III.
SUDDEN TURMOIL.

While the blushes played across her cheeks, Señorita Lolita Pulido sat at one end of the big table in the great living-room of her father’s house and watched the final preparations for her wedding.

Don Carlos, her gray-haired father, watched proudly from the foot of the table. Doña Catalina, her mother, walked majestically around the room and gave soft commands. Native servants scurried like rats in and out of the great room, carrying bundles of silks and satins, gowns, intimate garments.

“To-morrow!” Don Carlos sighed, and in the sigh was that which spoke of cruelties bravely borne. “To-morrow, señorita, you become the bride of Don Diego Vega, and the first lady of Reina de Los Angeles. And my troubles, let us hope, are at an end.”

“Let us hope so,” said Doña Catalina.

“The Governor himself dare not raise his hand against the father-in-law of Don Diego Vega. My fortunes will increase again. And you, daughter of my heart, will be a great lady, with wealth at your command.”

“And love also,” the little señorita said, bowing her head.

“Love, also!” said Doña Catalina.

“Ha!” Don Carlos cried, with a gale of laughter. “It is love now, is it? And when first Don Diego came wooing, the girl would have none of him, even to better the family fortunes. He was dull, he yawned, and she wanted a man of hot blood and romantic. But when it was learned that he was Señor Zorro— That made a difference! Love, also! It is well!”

Señorita Lolita blushed again, and fumbled at a soft garment upon her lap. There came a pounding at the door, and one of the servants opened it. Don Carlos glanced up to find a man of the village there.

“It is a message, señor,” he said.

“From whom?” Don Carlos asked.

“From Don Diego Vega, to the little señorita.”

Señorita Lolita dimpled, and her black eyes flashed as she bent over the heap of garments again. Don Carlos stood up and stalked majestically toward the door.

“I take the message,” he said, and he took it, and handed it to Doña Catalina, that she might read it first. “Don Diego Vega is not wed to my daughter as yet. It is not proper that he send her sealed messages.”

His eyes were twinkling as he turned away. Señorita Lolita pouted and pretended indifference, and Doña Catalina, her mother, unfolded the message, and read it with a smile upon her lips.

“It is harmless,” she announced.

Señorita Lolita looked up, and took the message from her mother’s hand. Don Diego Vega, it appeared, wasted no words. His message was read swiftly:

This man has orders to make a record carrying this greeting of love to you and fetching yours in return.

Thine,

Diego.

“Ha!” Don Carlos shouted. “Economy is a great thing, but not in words when there is love to be spoken. You should have seen the messages I sent to Catalina in the old days!”

“Carlos!” Doña Catalina warned.

“And paid a native wench royally to slip them to her,” Don Carlos continued, shamelessly. “Behind the back of her duenna! Page after page, and every word a labor! I could fight better than I could write!”

“Perhaps so can Don Diego,” the little señorita said.

“Staunch and loyal to him, are you?” Don Carlos roared. “That is proper. Pen your reply, my daughter, and let this man establish his record for the return trip to Reina de Los Angeles. Do not keep Don Diego waiting.”

The señorita blushed yet again, got up, and swept into a room adjoining.

Don Carlos addressed the messenger: “How are things in the town?”

“Don Diego entertains his caballero friends at a last bachelor supper, señor,” the man replied.

“Ha! Young men only, I suppose?”

“Sí, señor!”

“Wine flows, I take it, and the table is piled high with rich food?”

“Sí, señor!”

“Ah, well! I shall have my turn to-morrow at the marriage feast,” Don Carlos said. “My regards to Don Diego Vega!”

“They shall be given him, señor.”

The señorita returned and handed what she had written to her mother, who perused it and sealed it, and handed it to the messenger in turn. The man bobbed his head in respectful salute, and hurried out. A native servant closed the door behind him—but neglected to drop the heavy bar in place. Because of the unusual excitement, none noticed.

Don Carlos resumed his position at the foot of the table. This was a great night for him, and to-morrow would be a great day. He was happy because his fortunes were on the mend, because the Governor had been forced to cease his persecutions. But he was happy also because his daughter was to have happiness.

Don Carlos and his wife had lavished upon this, their only child, love enough for a dozen. And now both glanced at her as she fumbled at a silken shawl. Her black eyes were sparkling again, though dreams were glistening in them. Her cheeks were delicately flushed. Her dainty hands played with the silks. One tiny tip of a boot peeped from beneath her voluminous skirts. A bride of whom any man could honestly be proud, Don Carlos thought, and with proper blood in her veins and proper thoughts in her head.

“So Don Diego makes merry to-night with his young friends!” Don Carlos said. “I would like to peer in upon him now.”

Could he have done so, he would have seen a merry gathering. In the big living-room of Don Diego’s town casa a huge table had been spread. Don Diego sat at the head of it, dressed in fastidious garments, and caballeros were grouped around it. Richly dressed they were, with blades at their sides, blades with jeweled hilts, but serviceable weapons for all that. Wine cups and dishes were before them. They feasted, and they drank. They toasted Don Diego, and the Señorita Lolita, Don Diego’s father, and the señorita’s father, and one another.

“Another good man gone wrong!” cried Don Audre Ruiz. He sat at Don Diego’s right hand, because he was Don Diego’s closest friend. “Here is our comrade, Don Diego, about to turn into a family man!” he continued. “This scion of Old Spain, this delicate morsel of caballero blood to be gobbled up by the monster of matrimony! It is time to weep!”

“Into your wine cup!” Don Diego added.

“Ha!” Don Audre Ruiz cried. “But a few days ago, it seems, we rode after him as though he had been the devil, rode hard upon his heels, thinking that we were following some sort of renegade caballero playing at highwayman. Señor Zorro, by the saints! We shouted praises of him because for a time he took us out of our monotony. Then came the unmasking, and we found that Don Diego and Señor Zorro were one and the same!”

He ceased speaking long enough to empty his wine cup and make certain that a servant refilled it.

“Señor Zorro!” he continued. “Those were happy moments! And now he is to turn husband, and no more riding abroad with sword in hand. We shall die of monotony, Diego, my friend!”

“Of fat!” Don Diego corrected.

“What has become of the wild blood that coursed your veins for a few moons?” Don Audre Ruiz demanded. “Where are those precious, turbulent drops that were in Zorro?”

“They linger,” Don Diego declared. “It needs but the cause to churn them into active being.”

“Ha! A cause! Caballeros, let us find him a cause, that this good friend of ours will be too busy to get married.”

“One moment!” Don Diego cried. He stood up and smiled at them, gave a little twitch to his shoulders, and then turned his back upon the brilliant company and hurried from the room. They drank again, and waited. And after a time, back he came, a silk-draped bundle beneath one arm.

“What mystery is this?” Don Audre demanded. He sprawled back in his chair and prepared to laugh. It was said of Don Audre that he always was prepared to laugh. He laughed when he made love, when he fought, as he ate and drank, his bubbling spirit, always upon his lips.

“Here is no mystery,” Don Diego Vega declared. He smiled at them again, unwrapped what he held, and suddenly exhibited a sword. “The blade of Zorro!” he cried.

There was an instant of silence, and then every caballero sprang to his feet. Their own swords came flashing from their scabbards, flashed on high, reflected in a million rays the glowing lights of the candelabra.

“Zorro!” they shouted. “Zorro!”

“Good old blade!” Don Diego said, a whimsical smile playing about his lips.

“Good old point!” exclaimed Don Audre Ruiz. “With it you marked many a scoundrel with your mark, notably and especially one Captain Ramón. Why do we endure his presence here in Reina de Los Angeles? Why not force the Governor to send him north?”

“Let us not mar a perfect evening with thoughts of him,” Don Diego begged. “Caballeros, I have brought this blade before you for a purpose. We have drunk toasts to everything of which we could think, and there still remains an abundance of rare wine that has not been guzzled. A toast to the sword of Zorro!”

“Ha! A happy thought!” Don Audre Ruiz cried. “Caballeros, a toast to the sword of Zorro!”

They drank it, put down their golden goblets, and sighed. They glanced at one another, each thinking of the days when Señor Zorro had ruled El Camino Real for a time. And then they dropped into their chairs once more, and Don Diego Vega sat down also, the sword on the table before him.

“It was a great game,” he said, and sighed himself. “But it is in the past. Now I shall be a man of peace and quiet.”

“That remains to be seen,” Don Audre declared. “There may be domestic warfare, you know. A man takes a terrible chance when he weds.”

“Nothing but peace and quiet,” Don Diego responded. “The sword of Zorro is but a relic. Years from now I may look upon it and smile. It has served its purpose.”

He yawned.

“By the saints!” Don Audre Ruiz breathed. “Did you see him? He yawned! While yet the word ‘Zorro’ was upon his lips, he yawned. And this is the man who defended persecuted priests and natives, defied the soldiery and made the Governor do a dance! ’Tis a cause he wants and needs, something to change him into Zorro again!”

“To-morrow I become a husband,” Don Diego answered him, yawning yet once more and fumbling with a handkerchief. “By the way, señores, have you ever seen this one?”

He spread the handkerchief over the wine goblet before him, and as the caballeros bent forward to watch, smiles upon their faces, he passed one hand rapidly back and forth across the covered goblet with such rapidity that it was hidden almost all the time, and with the other hand he reached beneath the edge of the handkerchief and jerked the goblet away, letting it drop to the floor. The handkerchief collapsed on the table. Don Diego waved a hand languidly.

“See? It is gone!” he breathed.

“Bah!” Don Audre cried as the others laughed. “At your boy’s tricks again, are you? Where is your wild blood now?”

“I am done with roistering and adventure.”

“A man never knows when his words may be hurled back at him and cause him to look foolish,” said Don Audre. “It is foolish to take everything for granted. For instance—”

He stopped. The sounds of a tumult had reached their ears. For a moment they were silent, listening. Shouts, oaths, the sounds of blows, the clashing of blades.

“What in the name of the saints is that?” Don Diego asked.

A trembling servant answered him.

“There are men fighting over by the inn, señor,” he said. “I heard some one shout of pirates!”

CHAPTER IV.
FRAY FELIPE MAKES A VOW.

Barbados continued to mutter curses as he watched the sky. Not a cloud marred its face, and the moon was at the full. But here was an enterprise where there was small risk, so he could discount the bright night.

He grunted his pleasure as he saw Sergeant Gonzales and the troopers ride away from the presidio, cross the plaza, and continue toward the south. He called Sanchez to him and explained what was to be done at the hacienda of Don Carlos Pulido.

“You will take half a dozen men,” Barbados commanded. “Do as you please at the place, but capture the señorita by all means, and go quickly back over the hills to the mouth of the cañon. Steal horses, and ride. Get there before the break of day! We shall do the same. The ship will be putting in at dawn or before.”

“Sí!” Sanchez replied. “And do you care for my share of the loot here. There may be small profit at the hacienda!”

Sanchez selected his ruffians and led them away around a hill and toward the north, where the hacienda of Don Carlos Pulido rested. Barbados whispered instructions to the remainder of the crew. And then they waited, for Barbados wished to make sure that the soldiers did not return.

For more than an hour longer he waited, and then gave the word. Down from the crest of the slope they slipped, breathing heavily, lusting for illegal gain, holding their cutlasses in readiness for instant use. They kept in the scant shadows as much as possible, scattered as they crossed the wider light spaces, made their way slowly to the edge of the town.

There, in the shadows cast by an empty adobe building, they separated, and Barbados whispered his final instructions. They were to look for rich loot, and nothing bulky. He had decided against food and wine, bolts of cloth, casks of olives and jars of honey. Such things could be obtained later at any hacienda. Just now he wished to get portable valuables and hurry back to the coast.

Men were detailed to seize horses and have them in readiness. Certain large houses were to be attacked in force after the smaller ones had been disposed of. The inn was to receive special attention, since it was whispered that the fat landlord had hidden wealth.

Down upon the town they crept, and suddenly they charged into the plaza from either side. Into the inn they poured, cutting and slashing at natives until they fled screeching with terror, stabbing at the fat landlord as he called upon the saints.

They took what the landlord had, and gave their attention to the houses and shops. And now bedlam broke loose as it was realized what was taking place. Doors were smashed, terrified men and women were driven from room to room. Things of value were seized. Jewels were ripped from dainty throats and delicate fingers. Silken shawls were torn from beautiful shoulders.

Here and there a man gave fight, but not for long. The pirates outnumbered the citizens, because they traveled in force and the citizens were scattered. Shrieks and screeches and cries stabbed the air. Raucous oaths and fiendish laughter rang across the plaza. And above the din roared the voice of Barbados, the human fiend, as he ordered his men, commanded them, admonished them, led them to an easy victory.

It was quick work, because the descent had been so unexpected. It might have continued throughout the night, until the town was stripped bare, until not a native’s hut was left standing. But Barbados wanted quick loot and a get-away. He wanted to reach the coast during the bright moonlight, get the planks of the ship’s deck beneath his feet once more. He trusted Captain Ramón, but he feared that the soldiers might return.

Across the plaza the pirates charged, with Barbados at their head. They broke into the church. They filled the sacred edifice with oaths and ribald jest and raucous laughter. They darted here and there, torches held high above their heads, searching for articles of worth.

From a little room to one side stepped a fray. His hair was silver, his face was calm. Erect and purposeful he stood, looking across at them. Quick steps forward he took toward the altar, where there were relics he loved.

“What do you here, señores?” he demanded.

His voice seemed soft, yet at the same time there was the ring of steel in it. They stopped, their shouting ceased, there was a moment of silence.

“Who are you?” one shouted.

“I am called Fray Felipe, señores,” came the response. “Just now I am in charge of this house of worship. How is it that you so far forget yourselves as to bring your tumult here?”

“Fray?” one shouted. “Fool and fray? Why do we bring our tumult here? For to get loot, gowned one!”

“Loot?” Fray Felipe thundered, taking another step forward. “You would profane this house? You would lay sacrilegious hands on what is to be found here, even as you have voiced sacrilegious tones within these walls? Scum of the earth, begone!”

They surged toward him. “One side, fray!” shouted a foremost one. “Respect the black flag and we respect your gown!”

“Spawn of hell! Sons of the devil!” Fray Felipe thundered. “Back to the door, and out of this holy place!”

He scarcely hoped to stop them. There were rich ornaments on the altar, and in the uncertain light the torches shed he could see the eyes of those nearest glittering. And the gem-studded goblet was there!

Thought of the gem-studded goblet gave new strength to ancient Fray Felipe. It was a relic highly prized. Fray Felipe loved it, and cared for it tenderly. There was a legend connected with it. Once it had been touched by a saint’s lips, men had said. To have this scum as much as touch the sacred goblet was too much—to have them steal it would be unthinkable.

Once more they surged forward, and Fray Felipe sprang before the altar and threw up his hands in a gesture of command.

“Back!” he cried. “Would you damn beyond recovery your immortal souls? Would you commit the unpardonable sin?”

“Ha!” shouted a man in the front of the throng. “Worry not about our souls, fray! One side, else you’ll have a chance to worry about the state of your own! We have scant time to spend on a fray!”

“What would you?” Fray Felipe asked.

“Loot, fool of a fray!”

“Only over my dead body do you take it! I am not afraid to die to protect holy things! But you—you will fear to die, if you do this thing!”

“Slit his throat!” cried one in the throng. “Are we here to argue? The work is not done!”

Once more they surged forward. The light of the torches sent rays of fire shooting from the ornaments on the altar. Their lust for loot consumed them.

Fray Felipe braced himself, seized the nearest, raised him half from the floor, and hurled him back against his fellows.

“The fray shows fight!” one cried. “Use your knives, you in the front! A stab between the ribs, and let us go!”

Again they rushed, and Fray Felipe prepared for one more feeble attempt, the one he deemed would be the last. He made the sign of the cross and waited calmly—waited until they were upon him, until he could feel their hot breathing upon his face, until the stench of their perspiration was in his nostrils.

But, even as a man raised a cutlass to strike, there came an interruption. The bellowing voice of Barbados rang out above the din.

“Stop!” he shrieked. There was something terrifying in the sudden and unexpected command. The pirates stopped, fell back. Barbados charged through them and to Fray Felipe’s side. The pirate’s face showed white in the light of the torches.

“Back!” he commanded. “This fray is not to be harmed! Out, fools and devils! There is one rich house yet to be robbed. Let us not tarry here!”

“There is loot—” one began.

He did not complete the sentence. Barbados whirled, and with a single blow he stretched him senseless.

“Out!” he commanded. “This fray is not to be touched!”

They backed away from him, rushed back to gather near the door. They did not pretend to understand this, but Barbados was chief, and perhaps he knew what he was doing. They saw him turn, knew that he spoke to the fray, but could not make out his words.

“I had no doing in this,” Barbados said. “I assault no fray nor priest! I stopped them in time. Had I not remained outside a moment to watch affairs I would have stopped them before.”

“You are not wholly bad,” Fray Felipe said.

“I am wholly bad, fray—make no mistake about it! But I keep my hands off frailes and priests!”

He whirled around and rushed to the door, shrieking at his men. Only the soft light of the candles glowed in the church.

Fray Felipe took a step forward and looked after them. He turned back toward the altar, a look of thankfulness in his face.

And suddenly that look changed! Misery took its place. Fray Felipe gave a little cry of mingled surprise and pain, and tottered forward. The precious gem-studded goblet was gone!

He sensed at once how it had happened. When they had charged upon him, before Barbados came, one of the pirates had snatched the goblet away.

Fray Felipe whirled toward the door again, took half a dozen steps, seemed at the point of rushing after them. But he knew they were on the other side of the plaza now, and that an appeal to them would be useless. However, he could try.

He faced the altar again, and the expression of his old countenance was wonderful to see. And then and there Fray Felipe took a vow.

“I go!” he said. “I return with the saintly goblet, or do not return at all!”

CHAPTER V.
ZORRO TAKES THE TRAIL.

Barbados had saved the casa of Don Diego Vega for the last. He had kept an eye upon it, however, while his men were looting the town, but had seen nothing to indicate danger from that quarter. And now he remembered Captain Ramón’s commands, and it pleased him to carry them out.

Don Diego’s was the finest house in the village, and seemed to promise rich loot. Barbados placed four of his men outside to guard against the unexpected return of the soldiers, and led the remainder straight to the front door.

They hesitated there for a moment, gathered closely together, then Barbados gave the word, and they rushed through the door and hurled themselves inside, to go sprawling over the rich rugs and carpets and stop in astonishment and confusion. Barbados swore a great oath as he strove to maintain his balance.

Before them was a wonderful room lavishly furnished. To one side was a wide stairway that led to the upper regions of the house, and priceless tapestries were hanging from a mezzanine. But what engaged the attention of Barbados and his crew the most was the big table in the middle of the room and some score of richly dressed caballeros sitting around it.

Here was the unexpected, which Barbados always feared. He came to a stop, thrust forward his head, and his little eyes began glittering. The soldiers were gone from the town, but here were a score of young caballeros who were fully as good as soldiers in a fight, and who loved fighting. Barbados had seen such young blades handle swords and rapiers before.

The entrance of the pirates had followed closely upon the announcement of their presence in the town to Don Diego by the servant. And when they tumbled through the door, showing their evil faces in the strong light, the caballeros struggled to get to their feet, reaching for their blades, the smiles swept from their faces and expressions of grim determination showing there instead. But the calm voice of Don Diego quieted them.

“Ha!” Don Diego said. “What have we here? Señores, it is the night before my wedding, and most persons are welcome to partake of my hospitality. But this happens to be a select gathering of my close friends, and I really cannot remember of having sent you invitations.”

“Have done!” Barbados bellowed, his voice ringing with a courage he scarcely felt. “Have done, fashionable fop! We are men who sail under the black flag, terrible alike on land and sea!”

Don Diego Vega threw back his head and laughed lightly.

“Did you hear that, Audre, my friend?” he asked Ruiz. “This fellow says that he and his comrades are terrible alike on land and sea.”

Don Audre entered into the spirit of the occasion, as he always did. “Diego, I did not know that you were such a wit,” he said. “Have you hired these fellows to come here and give us a fright? Ha! It is a merry jest, one that I’ll remember to my last day! For a moment I was ready to draw blade.”

“Jest, is it?” Barbados cried, lurching forward almost to the foot of the table. “’Twill be considered no jest when we have stripped you of your jewels and plaything swords and this house of what valuables it contains! Back up against that wall, señores, and the man who makes a rash move will not live to make another!”

“I have made a multitude of rash moves, and I still live,” Don Audre Ruiz told him. “Diego, it is indeed an excellent jest! I give you my thanks!”

“Pirates!” Don Diego said, laughing again. “In reality, I did not hire them to come here and furnish us with this entertainment. But since they have been so kind, it is no more than right that I pay them!” He sprang to his feet, bent forward with his hands upon the table, and glared down the length of it at Barbados. “You are the chief bull pirate?” he asked.

“I am the king of the crew!” Barbados replied. “Back against that wall, you and your friends!”

Don Diego Vega laughed lightly again. And then the laughter fled his face, and his eyes narrowed and seemed to send forth flakes of steel.

“Sí! You must be paid!” he said. “But there are many ways of making payment!”

The sword of Señor Zorro was beneath his hands. And suddenly it was out of its scabbard, and he had sprung upon the table and had dashed down the full length of it, scattering goblets and plates, drink and food.

Off the other end he sprang, and struck the floor a few feet in front of Barbados, who had recoiled and was struggling to get his cutlass out of his belt. The sword of Zorro flashed through the air, describing a gleaming arc.

“Pirate, eh?” Don Diego Vega cried. “You have come to collect riches, have you, Señor Pirate?”

“What is to prevent?” Barbados sneered. “You and your pretty toy of a sword?”

“Ha! You insult a good blade!” Don Diego cried. “The insult shall not go unpunished! Look you here!”

Don Diego Vega whirled suddenly to one side, his sword seemed to flash fire, and its point bit into a panel of the wall once, twice, thrice! Barbados looked on in amazement, his lower jaw sagging. His little eyes bulged, and he looked again. Scratched on the panel of the wall was a Z.

“That mark!” the pirate gasped. “You are Zorro! That mark—the same the commandante wears on his forehead—”

Don Diego had whirled to face him again. “How know you there is such a mark on the forehead of Captain Ramón?” he demanded. “So! The commandante deals with pirates, does he? That is how it happens that my friend, Sergeant Gonzales, and his soldiers are not here! Ha!”

Barbados blustered forward, his cutlass held ready, striving to regain the mastery of the situation. “Give us loot, or we attack!” he thundered.

“Attack, fool?” Don Diego cried. “Do you imagine that you hold the upper hand here? Up with your blade!”

The last thing Barbados wished to do was to fight a caballero under such circumstances. He had the fear of the mongrel for the thoroughbred. But here was a thing that could not be avoided unless his leadership of the pirates suffer.

The caballeros sprang from their chairs, drawing their swords, shouting in keen anticipation of a break in the deadly monotony of their lives. They rushed to the right and the left, and engaged the pirates as they rushed forward. Don Diego Vega found himself at liberty to engage Barbados only, a thing he relished and which he did with right good will.

Barbados fought like a fiend, mouthing curses, puffing out his cheeks, but he did not understand this style of fighting. Don Diego Vega seemed to be wielding half a dozen blades that sang about his head and threatened to bury themselves in his throat. His cutlass seemed heavy, useless, his strokes went wild.

Back toward the wall went Barbados, while Don Diego grinned at him and taunted him, played with him as a cat does with a mouse.

“Pirate, eh?” Don Diego said. “Terrible on either land or sea? ’Tis a jest, Señor Pirate! A thin jest!”

Barbados sensed that the termination of this combat was not to be to his liking. He got a chance to glance once around the big room. What he saw staggered him. Two of the caballeros were stretched on the floor, blood flowing from their wounds. But, aside from those two, the caballeros were getting much the better of the combat. The pirates were retreating toward the front door. Their heavy cutlasses were of no avail against flaming, darting light swords, especially when the men who handled those swords refused to stand and be cut down, but danced here and there like phantoms.

But Barbados did not have time to contemplate the scene long. Don Diego Vega pressed his attack. Back against the wall went the pirate chief. He crouched, fought his best. But suddenly he felt a twinge of pain in his wrist, and his cutlass left his hand and shot through the air, to fall with a crash in a corner.

Barbados stared stupidly before him and then came alive to his immediate peril. For Don Diego Vega was standing before him, smiling a smile that was not good to see.

“Payment shall be made!” Don Diego said.

His blade darted up and forward, and Barbados gave a little cry of pain and fear and recoiled. On his forehead, it seemed, was a streak of fire. Again the sword of Zorro darted forth, and there was a second streak of fire, and yet a third time. And then Don Diego Vega took a step backward and bowed mockingly.

“You wear my brand,” he said. “It is an honor.”

Terror had claimed Barbados for the moment. Now he slipped a short distance along the wall, while Diego followed him, and suddenly he shrieked his commands and darted toward the door. Into the plaza tumbled the pirates, with the caballeros at their heels.

Barbados shrieked more commands, and the pirates ran with what speed they had. Those left behind in the plaza gathered the horses they needed and the loot, and those coming from the casa of Don Diego rushed toward the horses now. For the greater part, those horses were fine-blooded stock and belonged to Don Diego’s guests, mounts used to traveling at a rapid rate of speed between some hacienda and the town.

Barbados urged his men to haste. Only compact loot could be carried. They sprang to the backs of the horses and dashed away. The caballeros pursued on foot until the plaza had been crossed. And then they stopped and gathered around Don Diego.

“There can be no pursuit,” Diego said. “They have made away with your horses, my friends, the soldiers are not here, and the only mounts remaining in town are not fit for caballeros to ride.”

“Yet they must be pursued,” said a voice at his side.

Don Diego whirled to find ancient Fray Felipe standing there.

“They have stolen the sacred goblet,” Fray Felipe said in a calm voice. “I have taken a vow to regain it.”

“The goblet!” Diego gasped.

“Don Diego, my friend, you will help me in this?” Fray Felipe asked. “I have known you since you were a babe in arms. I have loved you—”

“To-morrow I wed,” Don Diego said. “But I shall do everything in my power. We’ll get horses as soon as possible and pursue. I’ll open my purse, and up and down El Camino Real men will go, seeking where these pirates touch shore again. We’ll get the goblet!”

“I have more faith in your sword arm than in your purse, my friend,” Fray Felipe said. “But do what you can.”

The caballeros had gathered now. Men and women were pouring from the houses, telling of what had befallen them. Barbados and his men had been merciful, for pirates. They had taken wealth, but they had taken few lives.

Don Diego Vega started back across the plaza toward his house, his friends around him.

“For a moment I was Señor Zorro again,” he said. “Those drops of blood you mentioned grew hot for a time, Audre, my friend.”

“Glorious!” Audre Ruiz breathed. “I would we had horses and could follow them—even a ship to follow them out to sea. Don Diego, my friend, your bachelor supper is a great success.”

“Then let us return and conclude it,” Don Diego said. “We have a couple of wounded friends in the house. Let us attend them.”

“Let us bathe their wounds in wine,” Audre suggested.

They hurried into the house. The frightened servants came forward again and began putting things to rights. The two wounded caballeros were in chairs already, and men working to bandage them. Once more Don Diego sat at the head of the table, and the caballeros dropped into their chairs, and the servants made haste to fill the goblets. Don Diego put the sword of Zorro on the table before him and proposed that they toast it again.

There came a sudden commotion at the door, and a man stumbled in. Don Diego was on his feet instantly, for he knew the man. He was a leading workman at the hacienda of Don Carlos Pulido. A horrible fear gripped Don Diego’s heart.

The man was exhausted. He staggered forward, and would have fallen had not Diego grasped him and braced him against a corner of the table.

“Señor!” he gasped. “Don Diego—young master!”

“Speak!” Diego commanded.

“Pirates attacked the hacienda more than an hour ago, while others were attacking here—”

“Tell it quickly!”

“Don Carlos is sorely wounded, señor! Many of the buildings are burned. The house was looted!”

“The señorita?” Don Diego questioned.

“Do not strike me when I speak, young master!”

“Speak!”

“They carried away the señorita. They slew six who would have saved her—”

“Carried her away!” Don Diego cried.

“Toward the sea,” the man gasped. “I heard one of the pirates shout that she was to be treated gently—that she was to be the prize of some great man—”

Don Diego Vega tossed him aside, and once more the blade of Zorro was in his hand. His friends were upon their feet and crowding forward.

“A rescue!” Don Audre Ruiz cried. “We must save the señorita!”

“They have stolen the bride of Don Diego, the fools!” another shouted.

“Worse than that, for them!” Audre screeched. “They have stolen the bride of Señor Zorro!”

Don Diego Vega seemed to recover from the shock.

“You are right, my friends!” he cried. “This is touch enough to turn my blood hot again. Don Diego Vega is dead for a time; Señor Zorro takes the trail! Audre, get me the best horse you can! You others, wait!”

He dashed up the stairs as Audre hurried through the front door. The others waited, talking wildly of plans for reaching the shore of the sea. Frightened servants stood about as though speechless.

In a short space of time Don Diego returned to them. But he was Don Diego no longer. Now he wore the costume he had worn when as Señor Zorro he had ridden up and down the length of El Camino Real. And in his face was a light that was not good to see.

Don Audre hurried in. “I’ve got one good horse,” he said.

“I go!” Don Diego cried. “I follow them to the sea. The two forces will meet there.”

“We are with you in this!” Don Audre cried. “With you as when you were Zorro before. With you, my friend, until we have the little señorita safe again!”

Their naked blades flashed overhead in token of allegiance.

Don Diego thanked them with a look.

“Then follow me to the sea!” he cried. “A trading ship is due there in the morning. Mayhap we’ll have to take it and trace them across the waves. I go! Zorro takes the trail!”

He dashed to the door, the others following. He sprang into the saddle of the mount Don Audre had procured. He drove home the spurs cruelly, and rode like a demon through the bright moonlight and up the slope, then taking the shortest trail to the sea.

CHAPTER VI.
ZORRO STRIKES.

At the hacienda of Don Carlos Pulido the outer door was opened slowly, stealthily. A villainous face showed. Then the door was thrown open wide and half a dozen men stormed into the room. Doña Catalina gave a shriek of fear and sprang backward, and as the little señorita rushed to her, clasped her in her arms. Don Carlos looked up quickly from a garment he had been inspecting and sprang to his feet.

“Pirates!” he roared.

The aged don seemed to renew his youth with the cry. He darted back against the wall, shrieking for his servants and his men, his hand darting to the blade that happened to be at his side. But the surprise was complete, and there was no hope of a victory over the pirate crew. Servants rushed in loyally, to be cut down. Doña Catalina and Lolita crouched in a corner, the aged don standing protectingly before them.

Sanchez made for him, seeing the girl. The pirate laughed, attacked like a fiend, and Don Carlos went down before he could give a wound.

Doña Catalina’s shriek rang in his ears. Then there came another shriek as Señorita Lolita felt herself being torn from her mother’s arms. Sanchez whirled her behind him, and another of the pirates clutched her in his arms.

“Easy with the wench!” Sanchez cried. “She is to be saved for some great man!”

The little señorita struggled and fought, her gentleness gone in the face of this emergency. Horror claimed her and almost destroyed her reason. She had heard whispered wild tales of what happened to women captured by pirates.

Out of the house she was carried, shrieking in her fear. The pirates poured out, too. Some of the outbuildings were ablaze now, and the shrieking, swearing crew was looting the house for what valuables could be carried easily.

Men of the hacienda came running, to be cut down with a laugh. More huts were set ablaze. Pirates came running from the house, carrying jewels, silks, satins. Señorita Lolita realized dimly that her wedding garments had been ruined by these men.

“Diego!” she moaned. “Diego!”

Horses were procured, her father’s blooded stock, and she was lashed to the back of one. The pirates mounted others, and Sanchez urged them on their way toward the distant sea. He had orders to get there before the dawn, and he feared Barbados too much to disobey his orders.

Señorita Lolita glanced back once, to see flames pouring from the doors and windows of the home she had loved. She thought of the father she had seen cut down, of her tender mother. And then she slumped forward in a swoon, and Sanchez steadied her in the saddle.

Two men of the hacienda carried Don Carlos Pulido from his burning home and placed him down at a distance beneath a tree. Doña Catalina knelt beside him, weeping.

“Find a horse!” the aged don commanded one of the men. “Ride like a fiend to the town, and tell Don Diego Vega of this. As you love the señorita, spare neither yourself nor your mount! Ride—do not bother with me!”

And so the man found a horse and rode away toward the town, going like the wind, and so the news came to Don Diego Vega.

The señorita, coming from her swoon, found that the pirates were traveling at a high rate of speed. Mile by mile they cut down the distance to the sea. There was an excellent trail used by traders, and Sanchez followed it swiftly.

It was like a nightmare to the little señorita. Again she wondered at the fate of her father and her mother. Again, mentally, she called upon Don Diego Vega to save her.

But her proud blood had returned to her now. She curled her pretty lips in scorn when Sanchez addressed her, and would make no reply. Her eyes snapped and flashed as she contemplated him. Her tiny chin tilted at an insulting angle. She was a Pulido, and she remembered it. Whatever fate held in store for her, she would be a Pulido to the end.

And finally, after some hours, they rounded a bend of a hill and saw the sea ahead of them, and the mouth of the dark cañon that ran down into it. Sanchez dismounted them beside the curving cliff. The loot was piled on the sand, the horses were turned adrift. Señorita Lolita was forced to dismount. Her wrists were lashed behind her, and she was compelled to sit on the ground with her back to the cliff’s wall.

Some of the pirates lighted a fire of driftwood. Sanchez stood looking out to sea, watching for the ship that soon would be due.

And then came Barbados and the pirates from the town.

“Fair loot!” Barbados cried as Sanchez questioned. “But we were outdone. Some devilish caballeros were having a supper, and we stumbled upon them, twice our number. But we have fair loot! And you have the girl!”

“Sí! We have the girl!” Sanchez replied.

Barbados walked over to her. “A pretty wench!” he declared. “Small wonder a man wished to have you stolen! Proud, are you? Ha! We’ll see what pride you have remaining by the end of the next moon!”

He whirled to look over the camp. “Sanchez,” he commanded, “put a sentinel up on top of the cliff. I do not expect pursuit, but it is best to be prepared. I ran across that fiend of a Zorro, and he marked me. But there are not horses enough left in town for himself and his friends, and he would not dare follow alone. Nevertheless, put a sentinel on the cliff.”

Sanchez obeyed. A man mounted to the top. On the level stretch of sand before them they could see his shadow in the moonlight as he paced slowly back and forth. Back and forth he went, while Señorita Lolita sat and watched the shadow and shivered to think of what was to come.

Barbados and Sanchez prepared the loot for the ship’s boats when they should come. There was an abundance of wine, and the pirates began drinking it. They shouted and laughed and sang, while the little señorita shuddered and watched the shadow of the sentinel as it went back and forth, back and forth.

And suddenly she bent forward, for there were two shadows now. Hope sang in her breast. One of the shadows was creeping upon the other.

“Diego!” she breathed. “If it could only be Diego!”

The moon was dropping, was at the point where the shadows were lengthened, grotesque. And suddenly Sanchez gave a cry and pointed to the stretch of sand. Barbados turned to look. The pirates stopped drinking and crowded forward.

There on the sandy stretch a picture was being enacted. They saw the silhouettes of two men fighting, thrusting and slashing at each other. From above came the ringing of blades that met with violence.

The pirates sprang back, tried to look up and ascertain what was taking place there. The shadows disappeared from the sand for a time as the combatants reeled back from the edge of the cliff.

“Above, some of you!” Barbados cried.

They started—and stopped. Down the face of the cliff came tumbling the body of the pirate sentinel. It struck the sand, and Barbados and the others crowded forward to see.

“By the saints!” Barbados swore.

His little eyes bulged. On the cheek of the dead pirate sentinel was a freshly-carved Z.

“Barbados! Look!” Sanchez cried.

He pointed to the body. Fastened to the man’s belt with a thorn was a scrap of parchment.

Barbados went forward gingerly and plucked it off. On it were words, evidently traced in blood with the point of a blade. Barbados read them swiftly:

Señores! Have you ever seen this one?

CHAPTER VII.
SEÑOR ZORRO’S DARING.

There was a moment of horrified silence, during which nothing was heard save the soft lap of the sea against the shore and the labored breathing of the terrified pirates. And then Barbados swore a great oath and looked toward the summit of the cliff once more.

“’Tis that cursed Señor Zorro, the land pirate!” he shrieked. “Spit upon him! After him, dogs! Bring me his heart on the end of a cutlass blade! Or fetch him alive, if you can, that we may have the keen pleasure of killing him slowly.”

Some of the pirates already were struggling to get up the narrow path that led to the top of the cliff, slipping and falling back as the soft soil and gravel rolled beneath their feet.

Sanchez started with them, eager for combat. Barbados, however, lingered behind, seeing to the loot and his fair prisoner. He was very busy about it, for he was not eager to join the others and run chances of matching blades with Señor Zorro again.

Barbados remembered well how he had felt during the fight in the house of Don Diego in Reina de Los Angeles, when he had realized fully that Don Diego was merely playing with him and could have silenced him forever when he willed.

The pirates reached the summit finally, but could see nothing there save a few clumps of brush and a few stunted trees that looked grotesque in the bright light of the moon. They examined the shadows carefully, but located no man. Yet from the near distance came a ringing, a mocking laugh.

They would have pursued, but Barbados hailed them from below, ordering them down to the beach again. The boats were putting in from the ship.

Down to the strand they tumbled, getting ready to store away their loot. They did not bother about the dead pirate, since he was an ordinary fellow who did not count. They guzzled more wine, ran down into the surf to help drag the boats ashore, greeted their fellows, laughed and shouted and jested and cursed in raucous tones.

Barbados turned to where the Señorita Lolita was sitting with her back against the cliff wall, her tiny wrists lashed behind her. She raised her face and looked at him bravely, her black eyes snapping, her lips curled in scorn.

“This Señor Zorro, I have been given to understand, has some concern in you,” Barbados said.

“If he has, Señor Pirate, it is time for you to feel afraid,” she replied.

“Think you that I fear the fellow? Ha!”

“He is no fellow! He is a caballero with the best of blood flowing in his veins, if you can understand what that means—you, who have the blood of swine in yours!”

“By my naked blade!” Barbados swore. “Were you not to be saved for a great man, I’d punish you well for that remark, proud one! Pride of blood, eh? Ha! ’Tis a thing you will be willing to forget, and eager, within a moon’s time. When this man of whom I speak—”

“Is it necessary to speak at all to me?” the little señorita wanted to know.

Barbados snorted his anger and disgust. For a moment he turned away to issue a volley of commands to the men who were loading the boats. He berated Sanchez for being slow. He glanced up the face of the cliff once more, as though expecting Señor Zorro to come rushing down, deadly sword in hand. Presently he called two of his men to him.

“Take the wench to one of the boats!” he commanded. “Keep her wrists lashed. Make certain that she does not hurl herself into the sea. These high-born wenches have some queer ideas and are not to be trusted at a time such as this.”

The two men grasped her roughly and forced her to her feet. The señorita gave a little cry, more because of her injured dignity than from pain or fear. Barbados whirled toward them again, anger in his face.

“Easy with the wench!” he commanded. “She is a proper and valuable share of the loot. If she is delivered in good condition then do we share greater in the other things.”

Down to the edge of the hissing surf they went, Señorita Lolita Pulido forced along between them. She still held her head proudly, but the light of the dying fire reflected in her face showed a trace of glistening tears that could not be choked back. Still, she had some hope. Don Diego was near at hand! He already had demonstrated his presence. And he would not entirely desert her while he lived. He could be expected to play Señor Zorro now to the end of the chapter.

They lifted her, carried her between them, and put her down into one of the boats. She sat at one side of a middle seat, a wide thwart. Her bound wrists were over the side, and by turning slightly she could see the tossing water less than two feet below her, for the craft was heavily loaded.

The pirates tumbled into the boat and picked up the oars. One thrust her cruelly against the side. Barbados himself sprang in last of all and ordered his men to give way. The other boats prepared for the start also.

On the summit of the cliff Don Diego Vega crouched and watched them. But he was not the easy-going, fashionable, nonchalant Don Diego now. His eyes were narrowed and piercing. His lips were set in a thin, straight line. Don Diego had vanished, and in his place was Señor Zorro, the Fox, the man who had ridden up and down El Camino Real to avenge the wrongs of frailes and natives. And Señor Zorro would know how to deal with this grievous wrong, which touched him personally.

The pirate craft was anchored close inshore. It would not take long for the boats to reach her. The moon was sinking and soon would be gone. There would be but a brief period of darkness before the dawn came stealing across the land to the sea.

His caballero friends were far behind him, he knew. And they would make for the trading schooner anchored a few miles away, perhaps, instead of coming here. And Señorita Lolita Pulido was in the hands of the pirates, and expected to be rescued.

Señor Zorro realized these things even as he watched the pirates preparing to launch their boats. It did not take him long to make a decision. He crawled backward a short distance, sprang to his feet, and ran to the edge of the cliff in a little cove a few yards away, a spot the pirates could not see from their boats.

He made certain that his sword was fast in its scabbard. He tightened his belt. He went to the edge and glanced down at the hissing sea a score of feet below, where it rolled and eddied in a deep pool close to the rocks.

Back he went again. And suddenly he darted forward, took off at the very edge, and curved gracefully through the moonlight in a perfect dive.

He struck the water and disappeared, but in a moment he was at the surface and swimming away from the treacherous shore. And he found that it was treacherous and the tide an enemy. It pulled at him to drag him down. He fought and struggled against it, and finally won to safety.

The boats were just starting from the land. Señor Zorro, low in the water, swam as though in a contest for a prize, straight toward the nearest of the boats, which was the one in which the señorita was sitting a captive.

Señorita Lolita was struggling now to be brave. The pirates were singing their ribald songs and indulging in questionable jests. They swore as they tugged at the oars, cursed the heavy load of loot, and blasphemed because of the work they were forced to do.

The señorita, remembering her proud blood, had tried to maintain her courage, but now she felt it ebbing swiftly. There seemed to be no hope. She could not believe that Don Diego could come to her rescue in the face of such terrible odds. Once she gulped and felt herself near to tears. She leaned backward to keep as far as possible from the pirate sitting beside her. The stench of his body and breath was almost more than she could endure.

Now they were halfway to the pirate ship. Lolita had arrived at a decision. She would be no prey for pirates if she could find at hand the means for taking her own life. She remembered what Barbados had said about her being the prize of some great man, and wondered at it a bit. But suppressed terror occupied her mind and kept her from wondering much. Again she leaned backward, and her bound hands almost touched the water over the side.

The pirates, nearing exhaustion, were rowing slowly now, sweeping their long oars in unison but without their usual force. And suddenly the Señorita Lolita flinched, and almost cried aloud, then struggled to overcome the shock she had felt. Her hands had been touched.

At first she thought it was some monster of the sea, and then that a cold wave had washed them. But the touch came again, and she knew it for what it was—the touch of another hand.

Another touch—and her cheeks flamed scarlet. The señorita had had her hands kissed before, and she knew a kiss when she felt it.

She turned her head slowly, leaning outward, and glanced down. And her heart almost stood still.

For Señor Zorro was there, his face showing just at the surface of the water! Don Diego, her husband-to-be, was there, swimming alongside, smiling up at her, within a few feet of the pirates who bent their backs and rowed and never thought to look down.

Fear clutched at the señorita’s heart for an instant—fear for him—yet admiration for his daring, too. Her blood seemed suddenly hot instead of cold. The touch of his lips had been enough to do that.

He dared not speak, of course, though the pirates were shouting and singing. But his lips moved and formed voiceless words, and the señorita understood.

“Courage! I’ll be near!” he mouthed.

She nodded her head slightly in token that she understood. And Don Diego Vega smiled yet again and sank slowly out of sight beneath the waves.

The boats were almost to the vessel now. The bright moon shipped a last ray across the tumbling sea and sank to rest. On the deck of the pirate craft torches flared suddenly to guide the boats.

They reached the side. Rough hands lifted the señorita and forced her to the deck above. Swearing, sweating men commenced handing up the loot. Barbados howled his commands and curses, Sanchez echoing them. To one side the señorita was held by the two men who had guarded her on the shore, awaiting disposition by the pirate chief.

“With speed, dogs!” Barbados shrieked. “We must be away before the dawn!”

The entire crew was working amidships, getting in the plunder and the boats. They gave no thought to bow or stern.

And up the anchor chain and into the bow crept a dripping figure, with a cry for vengeance in his heart—and the sword of Zorro at his side!

The Further Adventures of Zorro, Part II

CHAPTER VIII.
THE GOBLET.

Señorita Lolita Pulido, after a time, was conducted by Barbados to a tiny cabin below decks. It was no more than eight feet square, and had a bunk along one side of it. Certainly, it was no place for a delicately-reared lady of gentle blood.

It was far from being clean, in the first instance. Vermin that meant nothing to pirates caused the señorita to shudder and almost scream. Even as she entered, two huge rats scampered through a hole in the cabin floor, rushed down into the bowels of the ship.

“’Tis no palace,” Barbados admitted. “I’ll leave the torch so you may have light until the day dawns, which will not be long. The torch will keep the rats away. The smoke will drift through that open porthole. You will be safe here. There are no weapons, and even such a small and dainty tender human being as yourself cannot squeeze through that porthole and drop into the open sea!”

The señorita had no reply for him. She tilted her chin again, tried to hum a little song, and glanced around the tiny place. Barbados grew surly.

“Too good to speak to me, are you, proud one?” he sneered. “You may have another tune to chant before many days, after you have met the man for whom you were stolen. Is there anything you want or need?”

The señorita’s face flushed, but she faced him bravely. “I want your absence—and deeply feel the need of it!” she replied.

“By my naked blade! Were it not that you are to be handed over to another, I’d take it upon myself to tame you!” Barbados declared. “Ha! Deliver me from proud wenches with their noses in the air!”

He fastened the smoking torch to a wall, went out and slammed the door behind him, and Señorita Lolita heard a heavy bar being dropped into place. For a moment she stood in the middle of the cabin, her hands clutching spasmodically at her breast, and then she went over to the bunk, inspected it, and finally crawled upon it and sat cross-legged, staring at the opposite wall.

The ship was old, the floor worn and full of holes, and the walls had cracks in them. From one side came a stench, as though supplies had been stored in the space adjoining, and had spoiled. Through the porthole she could see the black night.

The horror of her situation was heavily upon her now. She seemed to fully realize her predicament for the first time. She remembered again how she had seen her father cut down, and her home in flames. She wondered how it fared with her parents, and she wondered, too, what was to be in the future.

The only ray of hope was that Don Diego was near, that Señor Zorro had promised to give her aid, and that his sword would protect her. And yet how could he—one man against scores of scoundrels? Don Diego, even as Señor Zorro, was only human, after all. Yet she hoped that, at the climax, he would reveal himself. He was a caballero, and he would know what to do in an emergency. Better that Señor Zorro drive his blade through her heart than for her to live stained!

She heard a tumult on the deck, a great noise, the sounds of clanking chains, and knew from the feel of the ship that she was under sail. Above her head feet pattered on the deck. The great voice of Barbados and the echoing one of Sanchez came to her as from a long distance. The rushing wind pulled the smoke of the torch through the open porthole.

The señorita sighed and leaned her head against the wall of the cabin. Tears trickled from her eyes and started coursing down her cheeks, but she wiped them away swiftly. None of these pirates should see her cry! Never would they be able to say that one of the blood of the Pulidos had shown fear!

She closed her eyes for an instant, as though that would shut out the horror of her thoughts, but found that it did not. It seemed to her that she heard a faint hiss, but she supposed that it was the wind or the water.

She opened her eyes again—and almost shrieked in alarm. Four inches in front of her face the point of a sword had slipped through a tiny crack in the wall, coming from the space adjoining!

The señorita recoiled a space, but watched the blade as though fascinated by it. Inch by inch it slipped through the wall, until two-thirds of its length was inside the cabin. And again she restrained a cry, but this time a cry of joy. On the blade, marked with some black substance, was a big Z!

So Señor Zorro even now was near! He was on the other side of the partition, only a couple of feet from her! She bent her head forward as the blade was slowly withdrawn, put her lips close to the tiny crack in the wall.

“Diego!” she whispered.

“Not Diego, but Señor Zorro, señorita, at your service,” came back a low tone.

“Thank the saints!” she breathed. “But, what can you do? You must be careful!”

“Think you I would allow them to carry you away, and not follow?” he asked.

“If they find you—”

“Do you put such small value, señorita, upon my ability to care for myself?”

“Diego! Zorro!” she whispered. “To you I am not backward in confessing it—I am so afraid!”

“Then will I sing for you, beloved!”

“Zorro! Dare not to do it! They may hear!”

“Let them hear a decent song for once in their wicked lives!” Señor Zorro said. “Be of strong heart, señorita! And be not frightened at what you may hear or see. It is in my mind to terrorize these vermin who call themselves men, preparatory to rescuing you!”

“Brave words, Diego!” she said. “But you cannot fight against four score. If, at the end, you could do me one service—”

“And that?” he asked.

“Death is to be preferred to dishonor, Diego!”

“Why speak of dying? Do you forget that you are my affianced bride? You are to live, and I am to live, señorita, and have many happy years. Think always on that, and not on the other! And be of good cheer, for I am near you always!”

She heard a slight movement on the other side of the partition. He did not speak again, nor did she. Her heart was beating like angry waves against a rocky shore. Her face was flushed. It gave her courage just to know that he was near. Señor Zorro, she felt confident, would find a way.

There was silence for a moment, and then she heard the soft hiss again.

“Sí?” she questioned.

“This is some sort of a storeroom,” he said, “in which Zorro has made a temporary nest. But I do not intend to remain in it forever. It is in my mind to look at you through the porthole before the dawn comes.”

“Diego! To dare such a thing—”

“What would not a caballero dare for love?” he asked. “For love of such a one—”

“Diego!”

“Call me Zorro, for, by the saints, that is my rôle now! I find that I have a dual personality, and the tamer part of me is not working at present. I am Zorro, the daring in love and war!”

“Have a care, for my sake,” she begged.

“I have work to do and a game to play, and they may be combined,” he answered. “For the moment, Adios!”

Again she heard the little sound, as though he were retreating from the partition and crawling over boxes and bales. There was deep silence for a time, save for the noises on the deck. And then she heard his voice, raised in song, and her heart almost stopped, for she knew that the pirates must hear it, too.

She leaned her head against the wall, that she might hear the better, though she was sorely afraid. She had heard the song often before, from Don Diego’s lips, and when other young caballeros had come to her father’s hacienda serenading. But never had she heard the real Señor Zorro sing it before, and never before had it sounded so thrilling and so sweet.

“Atención! A caballero’s near!

To guard the one to his heart most dear!

To love, to fight, to jest, to drink!

To live the life and never shrink!

His blade is bright, his honor, too!

Atención!”

The voice grew louder, more ringing. It seemed to the señorita to swell through the ship and across the tossing sea. Her heart beat faster, though she still feared for him. Well she knew the audacity, the reckless courage of her Señor Zorro!

“Zorro!” she breathed. “Man of men! Caballero mine!”

There was silence on the deck above, and then she heard the harsh, loud voice of Barbados, but could not understand his words. Señor Zorro was continuing his song:

“Atención! I’ve a thrust in store

For rogues, for foes, an abundance more

To shield my lady from all harm,

To save her from the world’s alarm;

A caballero calls to you—

Atención!”

The señorita’s eyes closed, her lips parted slightly, her breathing became as the stirring of a leaf in a gentle breeze. The song had lulled her fears.

“Zorro!” she whispered, as the verse was ended. But there came no answer from the other side of the partition.

Up on the deck, however, there was consternation. Barbados, having listened, whirled angrily toward his crew.

“Who dares sing such a song?” he shrieked. “Are there not royally good pirate ditties, that some of you must use the mush-like tunes and words of the high-born?”

“Every man is on deck,” wailed Sanchez, who had been superintending the storing of the loot. “’Tis a ghost song!” he exclaimed.

“A ghost song!” shrieked some of those nearest him.

Barbados shuddered. “There will be ghosts aplenty if this nonsense does not stop!” he declared, whipping his cutlass out of his belt. “It was no ghost singing. A ghost would have a more perfect voice. If I hear it again—”

He heard it again. It seemed to come from the sails above, from the waves overside, from the cabins below.

“Dios!” Barbados swore. “By my naked blade—”

“It is a ghost song!” Sanchez whimpered again.

Barbados whirled upon him, but the lieutenant dodged the blow that would have hurled him senseless to the deck. The pirate chief, breathing heavily, looked around at his men. Terror already had claimed some of them.

“It is a trick of some scurvy knave I’ll split in twain!” he declared. “On with your work!”

The men shivered, but again bent to their tasks. Barbados walked to the rail and stood looking down at the dark water, and then toward the land, where the dawn was almost due. Through the darkness and up to him slipped one of the pirate crew.

“Master!” he whispered.

“To your work, hound of hell!”

“A word with you, master!”

“Concerning what?” Barbados demanded.

The man edged closer. “Master, I have a present for you—a goodly piece of loot that is not in the common store.”

“How is this?” Barbados said. “You steal from your comrades?”

“Softly, master, else they hear!” the man whispered. “This is something special, and I got it for you.”

“In Reina de Los Angeles?”

“Sí, master! In Reina de Los Angeles. It was while we were in the church there.”

“In the church?” Barbados gasped.

“When the old fray first stood us off, master, and before you came. We had rushed forward, and I was in the van. And when the old fray was hurled backward the first time, I got it.”

“And what is it?”

“A golden goblet, master, studded with precious gems. See—I have it here! I saved it for you, master, and thought perhaps that you might give me promotion—”

Barbados looked at the goblet, struck by the light from the nearest torch. It glowed and glistened like some live thing. The pirate chief recoiled.

“Away with it!” he cried. “I do not want to touch it—do not wish to see it! It is a thing of ill-omen, the thing that old fray was trying to protect!”

“But, master—”

“Ill-luck will follow the man who has it. It is some sort of holy thing! Away with it! Keep it for yourself. Gamble it away, and the sooner you get rid of it the better. You may be struck down for taking it. I had a friend once who robbed a church and struck a priest, and I do not care to remember what happened to him! Are you going to take it away?”

The man gasped, astonished, and put the golden goblet beneath his shirt.

“I may have it all for myself?” he asked.

“Sí! I would not touch the thing! I call upon the saints to witness that I never touched it!”

So, through all the ages, have wicked men, in moments of fear, called upon the gods they have pretended to scorn.

CHAPTER IX.
LOVE AND MYSTERY.

Señor Zorro, having concluded his song, crept over boxes and bales to the little door of the storeroom. There he crouched and listened for a time, but heard nothing save the noise from the ship’s deck and the wash of the sea and singing of the wind through the rigging.

Presently he opened the door a crack and peered out into a pitch-dark, narrow passage. He slipped through and closed the door after him. Again he stopped to listen, and then he crept forward, reached a ramshackle ladder, and went up it swiftly and silently to a tiny hatch.

Lifting the hatch he crawled out upon the deck near the rail, hidden from the glare of all the torches. He had seen such a ship as this before, and knew her build well. There were no mysteries for him.

Along the rail he went like a shadow, and as silently. He reached a point where he could look amidships. Barbados was back among his men, now, urging them to greater speed, and Sanchez was echoing his commands. The ship was sailing at a fair rate of speed before a freshening breeze.

Señor Zorro crouched in the darkness and contemplated the pirate crew for a moment. He put out a hand to brace himself against the rolling of the vessel, and it came in contact with a tub of small bolts. Señor Zorro had an inspiration.

Far ahead of him, in the flare of a torch, he saw the ship’s bell. Señor Zorro grasped one of the little bolts, stood to his feet, took careful aim, and hurled the bolt from the darkness. He missed the bell by the fraction of a foot, and the bolt flew overboard.

Señor Zorro grunted, got another bolt, and tried again. It struck the bell squarely, glanced away, and fell into the sea. Out above the din rang one clear note. The ship had an excellent bell.

Instantly there was silence. Barbados whirled to look forward. His crew stood open-mouthed.

“The ship’s bell sounded!” Sanchez wailed.

“And which of you struck it?” Barbados demanded.

“No man was near it,” Sanchez declared. “But it sounded. I do not like this business!”

Barbados shivered, but made a show of courage. “Something struck it,” he said. “Possibly something dropped from aloft. Are you babies that you flinch because of the ringing of a bell? To your work, else I wade among you, naked blade in hand! Ha! I have sailed with a throng of children, it appears!”

They bent to their work again, and at that moment Señor Zorro hurled another bolt, and the bell rang out clearly once more. Again the work stopped as though Barbados had bawled an order for the men to cease.

“A ghost bell!” a man shrieked.

“A ghost bell!” Sanchez declared, crossing himself. “We are doomed! The ship is doomed!”

“To your work!” Barbados was both afraid and angry now. He strode forward, threatening them. He made his way toward the bell, and stood looking at it. Because of his presence the bell did not ring again. Yet Barbados did not feel at all easy. He beckoned the man who had the goblet.

“You retain the thing?” he asked.

“Sí, señor!”

“It is an evil thing for you to hold.”

“You want it?”

“Not I, by the saints!” Barbados swore. “And do you keep away from me while the thing is in your possession. If misfortune comes to the ship or the company because of the goblet, then will you go overside first of all! And with a weight around your neck!”

The man scurried away along the deck, and Barbados, his courage returning, whirled around and issued a volley of commands. From the darkness Señor Zorro hurled another small bolt, and for the third time the bell sent forth its ringing message.

Barbados whirled around again, his face suddenly white. He was within six paces of the bell, and he knew that no other man was nearer it than that. He felt the eyes of the terror-stricken crew upon him, and knew that he must show courage now, else lose his control over his men.

“Some one is playing a trick,” Barbados said. “And when I find the hound of hell who is doing it, I feed him to the sharks in two sections!”

He called two of the men, bade them get torches, and stationed them near the bell with orders to watch it closely. They shivered, but they obeyed. Thoughts of a ghost were terrible enough, but Barbados was there in the flesh, and his cutlass was ready in his hand.

But the bell did not ring again. Señor Zorro had accomplished his purpose, which was to make the crew nervous, and he was through playing in that direction. He slipped on along the rail, now and then peering over. After a time he picked up a line, fastened it to the rail and tossed the other end overboard, tried it with the weight of his body, made a loop in it, and slipped one leg through the loop.

Over the rail and down the side he went, slowly and carefully, the sword of Zorro in its scabbard at his side. And presently he came to a porthole, through which light streamed. He swung around, grasped the edge of it.

The Señorita Lolita, looking up suddenly, almost shrieked in sudden alarm. But the next instant she was off the bunk and across the tiny cabin, and her face was within a foot of his.

“Zorro!” she said. “You are doing a reckless thing—”

“Would I allow a few score mere pirates to keep us apart?” he asked. “Am I that sort of caballero?”

“But you are in grave danger, from the men above and the sea beneath!”

“Danger is the spice of life, señorita! After we are wedded it will be time enough for me to be tame.”

“But that may never be, Diego.”

“Zorro, señorita, if it is all the same to you. I must remember continually now that I am Zorro.”

“You must get back to the deck and go into hiding,” she said. “I fear for you. And should anything happen to you what would become of me?”

“It is some small risk,” Señor Zorro admitted, “but I felt that I should make this call.”

One of her hands was at the porthole’s edge. Señor Zorro, clinging to the rope, grasped it in his right hand and carried it to his lips.

“The most beautiful señorita in all the world!” he said.

“Zorro!”

“And for once I have you, señorita, when your duenna is not present to pester us. We are betrothed. We were to have been wed to-day. I will have more courage, señorita, if I have felt your lips against mine. The memory of our betrothal kiss still tingles in my veins, but it is a memory that should be refreshed.”

“Señor—”

“How is this?”

“Diego! Zorro, I mean!”

“That is much better.”

“And then you will climb above and take heed for yourself?”

“With a kiss for incentive, I could climb to the summit of the world and reach for heaven!” Señor Zorro declared.

She blushed and then inclined her head. He bent forward, and their lips met in the porthole.

“Go!” she said then. “Go, Zorro, and may the saints guard you!”

“My arm is strengthened,” he declared. “And your wishes are to be obeyed. Señorita, adios!”

An instant their eyes met, and then he was gone, climbing up the line hand over hand through the darkness. Señorita Lolita tried to watch him, but could not. And so she hurried back to the bunk and curled up on it again, holding one hand to her flaming cheek, moistening with her tongue the lips that the lips of Señor Zorro had pressed.

Zorro reached the deck and disconnected the line, wishing to leave no trace behind him. He glanced toward the land, and realized that soon the dawn would come. Along the rail he slipped, until he came to a spot from where he could watch the pirates.

The majority of the loot had been stored away. No man was aloft. Barbados was cursing at a group near the opposite rail. Señor Zorro looked across at him and wished that he was near. He saw Sanchez, too, knew him for the lieutenant, and it came into his mind that Sanchez had commanded the squad that had abducted the señorita.

And, as he watched, Sanchez started across the deck, around the mast, bore down upon Señor Zorro where he stood in the darkness. Soon he would be in the darkness near the rail. But before he could reach it he would be forced to pass beneath one of the flaring torches, and for an instant the strong light would be in his eyes. Señor Zorro whipped out his blade and crept forward to the edge of the blackness, keeping behind a mass of cordage piled upon the deck.

His eyes were narrowed now, his lips in a straight line, an expression of determination in his face. So he stood and watched Sanchez approach, holding the sword of Zorro ready.

The moment came. The blade darted forward and struck, and its point worked like lightning. Sanchez gave a scream of mingled surprise and pain and fear, and reeled backward, clapping a hand to his forehead.

Barbados whirled to look. Señor Zorro, as silently as a shadow, darted along the rail through the black night, on his way to the little hatch and the storeroom below.

“Fiends of hell!” Barbados was shrieking. “Sanchez, what is it? You screech like a shocked wench!”

Sanchez, still shrieking, staggered back and turned beneath the flaring torch to face them. On his forehead was a freshly cut letter Z.

“The mark of Zorro!” Barbados gasped. “So—”

“A demon struck me!” Sanchez cried. “I saw no man! Something came out of the night and struck me!”

“Fool!” Barbados shrieked. “A blade made those cuts.”

“But there was no blade, no man! Out of the dark it came—”

“Think you Señor Zorro is aboard?”

“No man, I say!” Sanchez shrieked. “It was a ghost. There is a ghost aboard. We are doomed—the ship is doomed! The ship’s bell rings—and men are cut—”

“By my naked blade!” Barbados swore. “A sword in the hand of a human made that cut! Do I not bear one myself?”

“But how could this Señor Zorro get aboard?” Sanchez wailed. “It was a ghost!”

The ship’s bell gave forth one more melodious clang! Señor Zorro, on his way to the storeroom and his hiding place, had stopped long enough to hurl another bolt.

CHAPTER X.
A DEAD PIRATE.

Sanchez and some of the others shrieked in terror. Barbados, cursing loudly, strode to the middle of the deck, whirled around, brandished his cutlass as though he would have fought the world. He would not admit to himself that this thing was getting on his nerves, but he glanced anxiously toward the land and wished for the dawn. He drove the men to finish their work, grasped Sanchez roughly by the arm, and led him aside.

“Understand,” he said, “either this Señor Zorro is aboard in some mysterious fashion, or else there is a traitor among us playing this Zorro’s part.”

“A ghost—” Sanchez began.

“Another word of ghosts, and I run you through!” Barbados warned. “The men are silly fools, but you are supposed to have some sense, being second in command. When the day comes we search the ship; and if we find this Señor Zorro in hiding we deal with him in a way he will not relish. He is one man against many!”

Sanchez shivered and raised a trembling hand to his flaming forehead. The blood had streamed down his cheeks from the wound Señor Zorro had put there; and Señor Zorro, on his way to his hiding place, had paused for an instant to watch this comedy—had paused, and so was lost to caution.

Back along the rail he hurried and from the tub he took some of the bolts. Up into the rigging he went like a monkey, until he was over the deck. He braced himself, took careful aim, and once more the bell rang out.

The pirates whirled toward it, and Barbados took a step forward, an oath rumbling from his lips, while Sanchez screeched and tried to hide behind the mast. Señor Zorro hurled another bolt, and this one struck Sanchez on his shoulder. He cried out again and fled across the deck.

Another bolt hurtled through the night, and this time Barbados felt the blow on the back of his neck. The screeches of Sanchez drowned the noise of the bolt falling to the deck. The pirate chief whirled upon the men nearest.

“Some one is playing tricks!” he shrieked. “If I find the man doing it—”

The bell rang again. It was too much for the pirates. They rushed toward the rail and stood there, white of face and shivering, clutching at their breasts, looking out into the black night as though they expected some demon to come riding toward them on a breath of breeze.

Señor Zorro went down the rigging swiftly, for the first streak of dawn was showing over the land and stealing across the sea. Along the rail he rushed, reached the little hatch, and let himself down. A few minutes later he was safe among his boxes and bales in the storeroom.

He crept across to the tiny crack through which he had whispered to the señorita; but he could not see her where she was sitting on the bunk—could see only straight ahead.

“Señorita!” he whispered.

“Zorro!”

“Safe again, señorita. I have been playing with these babies of pirates.”

“Be not rash, else I call you Don Diego,” she said.

“How can I be Señor Zorro, and not rash?” he wanted to know. “The dawn is coming. Have you rested?”

“I could not sleep,” she replied. “There were thoughts of you, and of other things.”

“But now I guard,” he whispered. “Sleep, and I will watch.”

She started to make reply, but instead she hissed a warning. Heavy steps had sounded outside the cabin door. She heard the bar being removed. And then the door was opened and one of the pirates stood in it, grinning, a torch in his hand.

“I have brought food,” he said, “at the chief’s command.”

Señorita Lolita’s lips curled in scorn as she looked at him.

“Do you think I would eat it?” she asked.

“It is the chief’s command. You are to be kept well fed and pretty as the prize of some great man.”

“You may take your food away again!”

“And have the chief slit my throat for not carrying out his orders?” the man asked. “Do you take me for a fool?”

He stepped into the little cabin and closed the door behind him. And then she saw that he carried a bottle of wine and half a cold fowl. She gasped as she looked at the wine, for there was a label upon the bottle, and it bore the stamp of her father’s hacienda.

It returned to her with a rush—memory of her father being struck down, of her home in flames, of her weeping mother crouched over her father’s body. She gave a little cry and reeled back against the wall.

“Leave me!” she commanded. “Out!”

The man leered and stepped toward her. She darted away from him, horror in her eyes. He put the bottle and fowl down upon the bunk.

“I leave the food and drink, pretty wench,” he said. “You may use it or throw it through the porthole into the sea—it is all the same to me.”

“Out!” she cried again.

“You do not like me?” he asked, getting closer to her. “Many women have. You are not to be spoiled being the prize of some great man, but a kiss will not spoil you. Never have I kissed a wench with proud blood in her veins. It will be something to remember and boast about!”

Now she crouched against the wall, her heart pounding at her ribs, her breath coming in little gasps. Her eyes were dilated with terror.

“Out!” she said, though her fear reduced her screech to a mere whisper. “Your master shall know of this!”

That sobered him for a moment, but the picture of her pretty self was before him, tantalizing him, tormenting him. He reached out a hand to clutch her. She could retreat no further. She put up her tiny hands as though to beat him back.

“What is a kiss?” he asked, laughing. “I would not harm you—only a kiss!”

“I would rather die!” she gasped.

“For that I shall take two—a dozen! Proud wench, are you? Ha!”

He grasped her wrist and started pulling her toward him. She lurched backward, fought with what strength she could, felt that she was about to swoon, and realized that she must not. He followed her, reached out the other hand to grasp her better.

And like the darting of a snake’s tongue came the sword of Zorro through the crack in the wall. In and out it darted with the swiftness of thought. The señorita, reeling back against the wall, felt herself released, saw the pirate sag before her, to his knees, topple forward, and collapse at her feet.

Terror-stricken, she looked down at him, her eyes bulging wide. Blood flowed from his breast and formed a pool on the floor of the cabin. A hiss from the other side of the partition brought her to her senses. She realized, then, that Zorro’s blade had done this thing to save her an indignity.

“Señorita!”

“Sí?” she questioned.

“Take the fellow’s dagger from his girdle! Dip it in the blood on the floor! Have courage and act quickly! ’Twill appear as though you did it when he offered you insult!”

She realized what he meant, and was quick to obey. She needed the blood of the Pulidos to aid her now. Stooping, she reached out a hand and grasped the hilt of the dagger in the dead man’s belt. She drew it out, shuddered, turned her head away for a moment, faint at the sight of the blood.

“Courage!” Zorro’s whisper reached her ears. “And make haste, señorita! Some man may come!”

Now came the thing that tested her courage. But she felt that the eyes of Señor Zorro were upon her. Again she bent forward, and she bathed the blade of the dagger in the pool of blood upon the floor. Then she sprang to her feet, holding the dagger in her hand, her face white.

“Open the door,” Zorro whispered from beyond the partition, “and shriek!”

She hurried to the door, shuddering as she pulled her skirts away from the dead man. She opened it, and peered out. And the shriek that she gave was no acting, but the sudden outpouring of what she felt.

There was a moment of silence, and she shrieked yet again. And down from the deck tumbled Barbados, rage in his face. He looked at her and at the dagger in her hand. He thrust her aside and stepped into the cabin.

“So!” he said. “What has happened here?”

“A lady of my blood does not suffer insult!” she said.

“Ha! The dog forgot his instructions, did he? ’Tis well that he is done for! You have saved me a task!” Barbados declared. He turned and looked full at her. “A wench of spirit!” he said. “I have half a mind to keep you for my own!”

Back to the door he went, and shouted to those above. Two men came rushing down. Barbados yelled commands at them, and they carried the dead man away. Another brought water in a pail, and dashed it over the floor to wash the blood down the cracks.

Barbados turned and looked at her again. “You may keep the beast’s dagger for a souvenir,” he said. “Let me clean it for you.”

She surrendered it willingly. Barbados wiped the blade on his trousers, bowed, and handed it back to her.

“Take it!” he urged. “Use it when you will, if there are others who try to disobey my commands. You are to be delivered, unspoiled, to a certain man. Failing that, I claim you for myself. And put out the torch when I have gone. The day is here!”

He went out and closed the door, and once more the heavy bar was dropped into place. Señorita Lolita tossed the dagger from her, hurried to the bunk, and collapsed upon it. Her senses seemed to be reeling. She forgot to extinguish the torch.

“Señorita!” Zorro whispered from beyond the partition.

But she made him no reply. The terrors of the night had taken their toll. She had swooned at the dawning of the day.

CHAPTER XI.
ZORRO WALKS THE PLANK.

There was no dawn in the dark, evil-odored storeroom, but Señor Zorro, by peering through the crack and into the little cabin, could tell of the approach of the day. The interior grew gray, and then brighter, and finally a ray of sun penetrated and touched the dingy hole with glory.

Señor Zorro put his lips close to the tiny opening and whispered his call:

“Señorita!”

Her swoon had changed to a deep, unnatural slumber by now, and she came from the midst of it at his sibilant call, bewildered for a moment.

“Sí?” she asked.

“You were silent for a time, and I was afraid.”

“Señor Zorro afraid?” she mocked.

“Afraid and not ashamed of it, where you are concerned, señorita,” he replied. “Curl up and try to get some natural sleep. It is in my mind that these pirates will be busy beating out to sea or trying to reach their land den, and will have no time to bother you.”

“And what do you intend doing?” she asked. “Do you intend to sleep also?”

“Don Diego Vega might feel called upon to sleep now and then,” he answered, “but Señor Zorro dare not. Worry not your pretty head about me, señorita! Rest your pretty eyes, and by the time you awake fate perhaps will have been kind and revealed to us a way out of this present difficulty.”

She heard him scrambling among his boxes and bales and barrels. She would have spoken to him again, but did not dare raise her voice above a whisper, and she felt slumber claiming her. She was thoroughly exhausted. Before she went to sleep, however, she extinguished the torch, and stood for a moment before the open porthole, looking through the morning haze at the distant land.

The ship was riding easily on the long swells, sailing swiftly toward the south. The señorita slept, and in the dark storeroom Señor Zorro reclined on a pile of sacks and tried to think things out. In an emergency he was quick to think and to act, to take advantage of every opening, but to sit still and analyze a situation was beyond him. He was a man of action, and it was action he craved.

He did not doubt that Don Audre Ruiz and the others had obtained possession of the trading schooner and would follow. But would they follow the correct lane of the sea? And, if they caught up with the pirates, what would follow? The caballeros would be greatly outnumbered. Not that such a thing would cause them to hesitate about an attack, but it would work against them, of course.

For an hour or more Señor Zorro thought on the problem, itching to be in action and knowing that he should remain quiet. The pirates would be searching the ship, he supposed, since he had marked Sanchez the way he had. He would have to remain in hiding, bury himself in the storeroom in such manner that they could not find him.

Then, after a time, he heard a noise in the little cabin, and quickly made his way to the crack in the wall. He could see that the door had been opened, and then he saw that Sanchez was standing just inside it.

“Señorita!” the pirate lieutenant called. “Sleep not when the chief commands!”

Señorita Lolita came from her slumber and sat up on the bunk with a little cry.

“Do not be afraid,” Sanchez told her. “By my naked blade, I will keep my distance! I have no wish for a knife between my ribs, driven there by a high-born damsel who thinks nothing of murder!”

“What is your wish?” she demanded. She was herself again now, scorning him, her chin tilted.

“It is no wish of mine,” Sanchez protested. “I but carry the commands of the chief. He orders that you come on deck, and at once.”

“I prefer to remain here, Señor Pirate,” she replied.

“No doubt. But the commands of Barbados are made to be obeyed, as I learned some years ago. He has said that you are to go on deck, and so you shall, even if I have to carry you.”

One step he took toward her, but she sprang from the bunk and crouched against the wall.

“Dare not to touch me, foul beast!” she cried. “’Twas you cut my father down! ’Twas you stole me away from my home and fetched me to the coast!”

“I do not want to touch you, little spitfire!” Sanchez informed her. “I have but come to escort you to the deck. What Barbados wants with you I do not know. Perhaps it is to have you get some fresh air, so you will look pretty when you are delivered to the great man. Ha! You are pretty enough now to suit any man who is not too exacting.”

He turned back toward the door, offering her no affront. And there he waited, as though with deep respect.

“Are you coming?” he demanded. “Barbados is not the man to be kept waiting.”

Once more she curled her lip in scorn, once more her chin was tilted, and she went forward, drawing aside her skirts, and swept past him like a queen leaving an audience chamber. Sanchez grinned and followed her.

Señor Zorro, through the tiny crack, had witnessed this scene. He did not believe that Barbados merely wanted her to take the air. He felt sudden fear for her, and once more his eyes narrowed and seemed to send forth flakes of steel. He scrambled over the boxes and bales toward the little door.

Up the rickety ladder he went and to the hatch, and there he listened for a time, hearing nothing alarming. And then he raised the hatch slowly, an inch at a time, blinking his eyes rapidly at the bright light of the day.

None of the pirates was in sight. Señor Zorro slipped out and dropped the hatch covering, whipped out his blade, and crept through the little passage toward the spot from where the deck of the ship could be viewed.

He was in time to see the señorita piloted across the deck to where Barbados was standing alone. The crew were forward, some sleeping sprawled on the deck, others leaning against the rail watching the antics of the flying fish.

Barbados whirled and stood with arms akimbo, regarding her narrowly. She faced him bravely, her hands clasped behind her back.

“Señorita,” the pirate said, “queer things happened during the night. I would question you concerning them.”

“Is it necessary?” she asked.

“By my naked blade, it is!” he roared. “I am not to be treated like a dog by you or any of your ilk. This is my ship, and here I am sole master, and it would be well for you to remember it.”

“I am quite sure none other would desire the mastery of her,” the señorita replied.

“You have a biting tongue,” Barbados said. “I would hate to be your husband. Else that tongue were tamed by love, it would be a hot dish to have continually.”

She turned away from him and gazed across the sea. He took a step nearer her.

“Is this Señor Zorro aboard?” he demanded suddenly.

“Would I know it, were he?” she countered.

“Possibly. I am asking a question, and desire an answer,” Barbados said. “It has been said that a high-born wench such as yourself scorns to utter falsehood. Let us see if that is correct.”

She made no reply, and the face of Barbados grew purple with wrath. He closed and unclosed his great hands as though he would have liked to strangle her.

“Is Señor Zorro aboard?” he demanded again.

“Have you seen him?” she wanted to know.

“I have not. But I have seen some things that I imagine are his doing.”

“And I notice that you and your lieutenant bear his mark,” she said.

“Ha! Let me but get my hands on him, and he’ll bear more than a mark!” Barbados declared. “I am having a search made of the ship. If he is found you’ll see how a man can be sent to his death speedily.”

The señorita gave a little cry and recoiled, her hands at her breast.

“Ha! You show fear for him!” Barbados cried. “So he is aboard, is he?”

“Have I said so?” she asked.

“You have not—but now you are going to tell me the truth. Wench, I’m done with trifling. You presume too much on the knowledge that you are to be the prize of an important man. Do you not know you are in my power? Could I not do with you as I pleased, and then heave you overboard, and tell this important gentleman later that you got the chance and threw yourself into the sea?”

Evil glistened suddenly in his eyes, and the little señorita recoiled again. Sanchez, who had remained standing near, laughed like a fiend.

“We could gamble for her,” Sanchez suggested.

“This is my affair, and you will do well to remain silent,” Barbados declared, whirling upon him.

Once more he faced Señorita Lolita, and the fiendish look upon his face made her flinch.

“Tell me all you know about this Señor Zorro!” Barbados commanded. “Did you slay the man in your cabin, or did this Señor Zorro do it? Answer me, wench! Reply here and now, else I teach you a lesson you will remember to your last hour.”

He sprang forward suddenly and grasped her arm cruelly, and she cried out because of the indignity and the pain.

Señor Zorro, from his place of watching, flinched as though he had experienced the indignity and pain himself. He wanted to hurl himself forward and to the attack, but he realized that it would not last for long. He could not hope to engage the entire ship’s company, though he made a long and running fight of it, and emerge from the combat the victor.

But there came an interruption. From forward was a hail:

“A sail! A sail!”

The pirates sprang to their feet. Those who had been sprawled upon the deck asleep awoke.

Barbados forgot the señorita for a moment and turned to look.

Behind, and bearing down upon them swiftly, came another ship. Señor Zorro knew, as did the pirates, that she had put out from the land before the dawn and far to the south of where the pirate ship had been at anchor.

Hope beat suddenly in Zorro’s breast. She was a trading schooner, he could tell even at that distance. If only she carried Audre Ruiz and his friends! It was a question what would happen. If she was some honest vessel, perhaps she would fall victim to the pirate craft. She might not be prepared to fight.

Barbados issued a volley of commands. The pirate craft turned for a run farther out to sea, so that she could tack back and catch the oncoming ship between her and the shore.

Lookouts were posted to watch carefully. Sanchez ran here and there, echoing the orders of his chief.

From his hiding place Señor Zorro watched now the approaching vessel, and now the deck where Señorita Lolita was standing against the mast, forgotten for the moment.

Were he quite sure that ship carried his friends Señor Zorro could go into action. For he flattered himself that he would be able to hold his own until the other ship came up.

It appeared that the other vessel had no intention of running up the coast. She changed her course also, and bore after the pirate craft.

Señor Zorro watched her carefully. He could not make out her flag. At the distance he could see nothing except that she was of the type of trading schooner, and that she had swift heels. For she was gaining rapidly, as though sailed by experts. And the pirate craft was foul of bottom, needing careening and scraping.

Barbados had hurried to the rail and was watching the oncoming ship. Señorita Lolita saw it also, but did not seem to realize that it meant hope. Perhaps she feared that the ship was but coming into grave danger, running into a conflict that would mean capture and death for her crew.

Señor Zorro glanced at the deck, and then back at the approaching vessel again. He saw that another sail was being sent aloft. It was broken out, snapped into place, the lines tautened. And Señor Zorro with difficulty restrained a cheer. On the white expanse of the sail, painted there in haphazard fashion, but easily made out, was a monster Z.

So his friends were on that ship! Señor Zorro felt better now. He glanced once more toward the deck, and realized that Barbados had seen what was on the sail also. For the pirate chief left the rail and stamped back to the señorita’s side, determination in his manner and rage in his countenance.

“Now you’ll speak the truth, wench!” he shouted. “Is Señor Zorro aboard this ship? If those are his friends coming up, then will we attend to him before we attend to them!”

“I do not care to hold conversation with you,” she said.

“No? By my naked blade, I am in command here!” he roared. “An answer I intend to have.”

He lurched forward and grasped her by the shoulders, shook her as a terrier shakes a rat, held her at arm’s length and shook her again. She fought against crying out, but could not win the battle against such cruel odds.

One plaintive little cry drifted across the deck and straight into the heart of Señor Zorro.

He transferred his sword from his right hand to his left. He whipped the dagger from his belt and hurled it. His aim was poor, yet he had come close enough. The dagger was driven, quivering, into the mast between Barbados and the señorita.

Barbados, with a cry, sprang backward, and the señorita slumped to the deck at the foot of the mast. And Señor Zorro realized in that instant that he had stepped forward too far and had been seen. Sanchez gave a cry and started toward him. The pirates whirled from the rail to look. Barbados saw him.

“’Tis Señor Zorro!” Barbados shrieked. “After him! Fetch him to me alive! An extra share of loot to the man who gets him!”

It was the promise of loot that drove them on. They shrieked and rushed forward. Señor Zorro put the blade of his sword between his teeth and darted up into the rigging.

And then began a fight the like of which the pirates never had seen before. Señor Zorro seemed scarcely human. Up the rigging he went like a monkey. He sprang from spar to spar. Down the ratlines he rushed, down the ropes he slid.

Now and then he clashed with one of the pirates, and always the sword of Zorro darted in and out, and a wounded man was left behind.

“Seize him!” Barbados shrieked. “After him, dogs! Is one man to hold you off forever? Do not slay him! An extra share of loot—”

Señor Zorro struck the deck and darted across it. Sanchez retreated before his darting blade. He pierced the breast of a pirate who stepped before him, hurled another aside, sprang to the mast, and recovered his dagger. He stooped for an instant, and pressed the lips of the señorita to his own, and dashed on.

Now he was cornered, and now he fought his way to freedom. A dagger whirled past his head and buried itself in the deck beyond. Into the rigging he went again, up the ratlines, out along a spar.

They followed him, and he put his sword into its scabbard and sprang. Far below he caught another spar, ran to the mast, started downward again. One glance he gave at the approaching ship. His friends were gaining, but they still were far away.

Again they had him cornered, and again he escaped them by jumping to the deck below. He dashed around the deck cabin, met and defeated another man with a single clash of blades, and was at the rail.

There was grave danger on the deck, he knew, and so he went aloft once more. Up and up he went, while Barbados and Sanchez shrieked to the others to follow and get him.

“Alive! I want him alive!” Barbados screeched.

Another spring from spar to spar. Señor Zorro almost missed because of the rolling of the ship. But he caught and clung on, and scrambled to a place of safety. In toward the mast he hurried.

But there was a treacherous spot on the spar, where the mist had struck and clung, a wet spot made to cause a boot to slip. Señor Zorro felt himself reeling suddenly to one side. He grasped wildly—grasped nothing but empty air. His heart seemed to stop beating for an instant. He felt himself falling through space. To his ears came the terrified cry of the little señorita. The deck rushed up to meet him. He struck it with a crash and the darkness came.

Señorita Lolita gave another little cry and covered her face with her hands. Barbados and Sanchez rushed forward, the others at their heels.

Señor Zorro was unconscious for the moment, though the fall had broken no bones.

“Bind him!” Barbados cried, glancing back at the oncoming ship. “We attend to him first, and then to his friends. Water his head well and bring him back to life. Get ready a plank!”

The pirates rushed to do his bidding.

Señor Zorro’s wrists were lashed behind his back. One man hurled water into his face, and he groaned and opened his eyes, and tried to sit up on the deck.

“Ha!” Barbados cried. “So it is Señor Zorro, eh? And now we can repay you for this little mark you put on my forehead, señor! Barbados, also, knows how to make payment!”

He gave a signal, and the pirates forced Zorro to his feet. He tried to fight, but they overpowered him. They braced him against the mast, while the señorita crept aside and watched.

“Hold the wench!” Barbados commanded two of the men. “We don’t want her throwing herself overboard. And I wish her to witness what is to come.”

The two men held her. Señor Zorro, half throttled, was kept against the mast. Barbados made another sign, and some of the men carried forward a heavy bar of iron and lashed it to Señor Zorro’s wrists.

“To the rail with him!” Barbados commanded.

They forced him to the rail, and the two men urged the señorita along beside him. Over the rail a long, wide plank had been extended.

Señor Zorro knew what they meant to do to him. And now Señorita Lolita realized it, too.

“No, no!” she shrieked. “You must not do this thing!”

“Ha! Revenge is sweet!” Barbados cried. “Señor Zorro, you are about to descend to a watery hell! We’ll let you take your sword with you, since you may need it fighting demons. You take the plunge, and then, when yon ship comes up, we attend to your friends! As for the señorita, know that she will be delivered safely to one who has bargained for her.”

“Why not give me a chance in a fair fight?” Zorro asked. “Any two of you—any three—”

“Your friends are coming up, and we must prepare for them,” Barbados replied, laughing. “You have fought your last fight on earth, señor. See if you can mark the brow of the devil with your cursed Z.”

“Diego!” the señorita moaned.

“As a special favor you may kiss the wench,” Barbados said. “It will be practice for her. And take with you to the bottom of the sea the knowledge that another will kiss her soon.”

The señorita rushed forward and threw her arms around him and kissed him, unashamed.

“Diego! I’ll follow you!” she said.

“’Tis a merry end,” Señor Zorro declared. “Be brave of heart! Our friends are at hand, señorita! If Don Audre Ruiz is aboard that ship he will know how to save you—and how to avenge me.”

Again they kissed, and then the two pirates jerked her roughly backward.

Barbados laughed like a fiend.

“Practice for the other man!” he roared. “When Captain Ramón—”

“So it is Ramón?” Zorro cried.

“Sí! And a lot of good the knowledge will do you now.”

“This much good—that I shall not die!” Zorro answered.

“If you do not, then indeed are you a man! With a weight on your lashed wrists— Enough!” he exclaimed. “Put him on the plank!”

They lifted him and stood him upon it, facing him toward the sea. They forced him a short distance from the rail.

“Diego!” the señorita cried, agony in her voice.

At her cry the plank was tipped.

And with her cry ringing in his ears Señor Zorro shot downward like a man of metal—shot downward into the tossing sea, and was gone!

The Further Adventures of Zorro, Part III

CHAPTER XII.
TO THE RESCUE.

Upon the frantic departure of Don Diego Vega from Reina de Los Angeles, Don Audre Ruiz took command of the situation and the caballeros simultaneously. There was none willing to dispute his leadership. Don Audre always had been a leader when there was an enterprise that called for hard riding and hard fighting in the bright face of danger.

Captain Ramón was not to be found, and Sergeant Gonzales had ridden away with the soldiers. So Don Audre noised it abroad that he and his friends intended pursuing the pirates as speedily as possible, and made a quick search for mounts.

They acquired enough, presently, but the horses were a sorry lot when compared to the caballeros’s own, which the pirates had stolen. And without changing their attire, retaining the splendid costumes they had been wearing at Don Diego’s bachelor feast and with their jeweled swords at their sides, they rode up the slope and took the trail that would carry them to the sea.

Don Audre decided against following the pirates’ tracks. He knew that they would reach the coast long before the caballeros, and would embark. Don Diego would do what he could, which would be little. And Don Audre realized that their only hope was to get to the trading schooner, put out in it, and make an attempt to overtake Barbados and his evil crew.

They rode with what speed they could, shouting at their poor mounts and at one another, along the slopes, down the dusty trails and so toward the distant sea. They crossed the trail of the pirates who had looted the Pulido hacienda, but ignored it. Don Audre Ruiz knew where the trading schooner would be anchored, some miles to the south of where the pirate ship undoubtedly had touched, and that place was his objective.

Hour after hour they rode, urging their jaded horses to their utmost, glad that the moon was bright and that they could make as good progress as in the day. And, when they finally were within a couple of miles of the sea, and also an hour of the dawn, Don Audre suddenly raised his hand and reined in his horse, and those behind stopped with him. A native was standing in the middle of the trail.

Don Audre approached him slowly, hand on the hilt of his dagger. There were some natives who were not to be trusted. But when he drew near he recognized the fellow as one who had worked at his father’s hacienda.

“What do you here?” Don Audre demanded.

“I saw the señor coming from the distance with his friends,” the native answered. “I have news.”

“Speak!”

“I was coming across the hills, señor, and saw the pirates.”

“Ha! Talk quickly!” Audre Ruiz commanded.

“I went into hiding, lest they slay me. They had good horses and much loot, also a girl—”

“Tell us of that!”

“It was the señorita Don Diego Vega expects to wed,” the native said. “They took her with them to the shore, and presently more pirates came from Reina de Los Angeles. They went aboard their ship, taking the señorita and the loot with them.”

“What else?”

“There was a man appeared, señor, and killed one of the pirates. I got a glimpse of him, Don Audre, and it was Señor Zorro, the one that—”

“Ha! Zorro!” Audre shrieked. “Speak quickly!”

“He ran from them, and they gave up the pursuit. But when the boats started from the land, he dived into the sea and swam after them. And he did not return!”

“Then is he aboard the pirate craft!” Don Audre declared.

“The pirate ship sailed to the south, señor.”

“Good!” Audre cried. “Know you anything of the trading schooner?”

“Sí, señor! She is anchored straight ahead, and the men expect to start for Reina de Los Angeles in the morning to trade.”

“They will not, though they do not know it.” Don Audre said. “Here is gold for you, fellow. Ha! So the pirate ship sailed to the south. That means that the rogues are going to their hidden rendezvous somewhere down the coast. We’ll get the trading schooner and pursue! Forward!”

But, as they would have started, Don Audre Ruiz raised a hand and stopped them again. From the rear had come the beating of a horse’s hoofs. Don Audre motioned to the caballeros, and they scattered to either side of the road and prepared to receive the newcomer.

Nearer grew the beating of hoofs, and a horseman appeared, riding frantically through the moonlight down the slope and toward them. When he saw them, he reined up, and stopped in their midst in a shower of gravel and sand and dust. The reckless rider was Sergeant Gonzales.

“Ha, señores!” he called. “I have overtaken you finally, it appears.”

“And to what end?” Don Audre Ruiz asked, urging his horse forward and glaring at the soldier. “You have news?”

“Not so, señor! I come in search of it. I returned to Reina de Los Angeles with my troopers to learn of the pirates and what they had done. I learned, also, of your departure, so left my men and rode after you. Captain Ramón was not at the presidio. As the next soldier of rank—”

“It is in our minds to get the trading schooner and give pursuit,” Ruiz told him.

“That is a worthy idea!” Sergeant Gonzales declared. “Too long have these bloody pirates infested our shores. Meal mush and goat’s milk! Let us go forward!”

“Are you seeking to take command of this expedition?” Don Audre Ruiz demanded, hotly. “This is a private rescue party of caballeros, I would have you know, and not a detachment of the Governor’s men! We have small love for the Governor!”

“Though I wear his uniform, I say the same thing,” Sergeant Gonzales declared. “But I am after pirates! I care not who commands, so that I get a chance at a pirate with my trusty blade! Ha! When I meet a pirate face to face—”

“Spare us your boasting!” Don Audre said.

“Boasting?” shrieked the sergeant. “Boasting? Perchance you would like to cross blades with me in answer to that insult?”

“You are safe in making the challenge, knowing that I would not stoop to do so,” Don Audre said.

“And you are safe in refusing, having the ability to hide behind your gentle blood!” the sergeant returned.

“Señor—”

Sergeant Gonzales urged his mount closer to that of Don Audre, but the expression in the sergeant’s face had changed peculiarly, and his countenance did not show rage.

“Señor, it is true,” Sergeant Gonzales observed, “that I am but a poor soldier without blue blood in my veins. My father was a butcher and my mother’s father raised swine. But Don Diego Vega has been good enough to term himself my friend. And now that he is in peril, I ride with his other friends to his rescue, and the rescue of his lady! I trust the señor will not misunderstand! I do not seek to equal my betters. If I am not good enough to ride with you, caballero, then I ride by myself! But I ride!”

Don Audre Ruiz bent forward and searched the sergeant’s face by the light of the one torch the company had burning. Then he extended his hand.

“Sergeant Gonzales, it is for me to ask your pardon,” Don Audre said, grandly. “I would not be worthy the blood in my veins did I do less. Any friend of Don Diego Vega is welcome on this expedition. But, have you leave of absence?”

“Ha! I took it!” Sergeant Gonzales roared, grinning broadly. “Captain Ramón was not at the presidio. Being the next in rank, I ordered myself to set out on the trail and get a full report of the occurrence. When I am able to make that report I return.”

“Ride you with us!” Don Audre said. “Thus we have the sanction of the soldiery and official approval of our deeds.”

“I shall approve anything that has to do with causing the death of pirates!” Sergeant Gonzales declared.

The moon disappeared entirely, and the night was dark. They rode forward slowly now, careful not to get off the trail, but they did not have much farther to go. Soon they came to the crest of a hill, and below them they heard the hissing sea, and saw the lights of a ship riding at anchor a short distance from the shore.

Down to the surf they urged their mounts. And there they met with another surprise. For a horseman was awaiting them there in the darkness. Don Audre Ruiz gasped in astonishment when he recognized old Fray Felipe.

“We left you in the town, fray!” he said. “And how is it that we now find you here? Is this some sort of a miracle?”

“I departed the town while you were yet searching for horses,” Fray Felipe explained. “I got a mount for myself and came ahead, because I cannot ride like the wind, as do you young caballeros. It was in my mind that you would make for the trading schooner. I heard you say as much.”

“But why have you come?” Don Audre wanted to know.

“I have known Don Diego Vega and the little señorita since they were babes in arms, and I was to have married them to-day,” the old fray replied.

“But fighting is not your forte!” Don Audre declared. “You are old, and you wear a gown. Do you remain behind and pray for our success, and let us wield the blades! That were better, fray.”

“I am willing to make my prayers. But I have taken a vow,” Fray Felipe replied. “I must return the golden goblet the pirates stole from the church.”

“Then you would go with us?” Don Audre asked.

“Sí! I already have communicated with the captain of the trading schooner, señor. He is coming ashore now in one of his boats. Thus time will be saved.”

CHAPTER XIII.
TRAGEDY AT A DISTANCE.

The caballeros dismounted stiffly and gathered near the water line. In from the distant trading schooner a boat was coming, driven over the choppy water by silent oarsmen. Half a dozen men were in her, and their flaring torches touched the sea with streaks of flame. They approached the shore carefully, and on guard, as though fearing some trap set by thieves, and by the light of the torches those on the land could see that the men in the boat were heavily armed.

Don Audre Ruiz and Fray Felipe went forward and met the boat at the water’s edge and greeted the schooner’s captain as he stepped to land. He was a regular trader who carried goods overland from the sea to Reina de Los Angeles every now and then. He traveled as far as San Diego de Alcála to the south, and as far as San Francisco de Asis to the north—a bold fellow and honest, well and favorably known.

“What is all this tumult?” the captain demanded. “Fray Felipe, are you not? Ha! I thought that I recognized you, good fray! And Don Audre Ruiz, whose father has purchased much goods of me. Sundry caballeros and men of rank, also! In what way may I be of service to you, señores? Have you ridden out all this long way in the night to have first choice of my stock of goods?”

Don Audre Ruiz told him swiftly. “We want your ship, to pursue a pirate craft!” he said.

“How is this, señor?” the captain cried. “There are pirates in these waters?”

“Sí! And possibly within half a dozen miles of you,” Don Audre told him. “Early in the night they raided Reina de Los Angeles. They also raided the Pulido hacienda, and carried away the señorita, who was to have wed Don Diego Vega this day.”

“By the saints!” the schooner’s captain swore. “They stole the bride-to-be of Señor Zorro? Is he here with you?”

“He followed them, going ahead of us, and possibly managed to get aboard their ship,” Don Audre explained. “The pirate craft has sailed by this time. They went toward the south. They will beat out to sea for a distance. If we can start soon it may be possible to overhaul them.”

“How many rascals in the pirate crew?” the captain of the schooner asked.

“Not more than threescore, as nearly as we can judge,” Don Audre replied. “And here are a score of caballeros, and we are ready to fight!”

The captain of the schooner drew a deep breath, held it for an instant, and then expelled it with great force. And during this process he evidently made up his mind concerning the matter.

“Señores, I am yours to command!” he said. “My ship is yours, and her crew. If I can do anything to help rid the seas of such vermin, I am more than willing. My schooner is a swift vessel in light winds such as we find now. I’ll signal the other boats and have you aboard as soon as is possible.”

“You will not fail to profit by it,” Don Audre Ruiz told him.

“I am not doing it with the expectation of profit,” the captain declared. “I detest thieves, and I admire honest men! I have many friends in Reina de Los Angeles, some of whom probably have suffered at the hands of these pirates. And, above all, I did admire the exploits of this Señor Zorro, as Don Diego was called. It will be a pleasure, señores, to aid you in this.”

He called to his men, and they signaled to the ship with their torches. Out of the darkness and across the tumbling sea came more boats from the schooner. The caballeros turned their horses adrift, knowing that they would be picked up and returned, made certain that they had daggers and swords handy, and got quickly into the boats and put out to the ship.

Sergeant Gonzales and Fray Felipe, by accident, were placed in the same craft, sitting side by side on one of the wide thwarts. Sergeant Gonzales observed the fray carefully from the corners of his eyes. The sergeant wished to talk, having kept silent for some minutes, and the fray was the nearest man he knew.

“Never did I think to join hands with you in an enterprise, fray!” the sergeant said, puffing out his cheeks. “If I am not badly mistaken, you are the gowned one who stopped me in the plaza on a certain occasion, and made remarks about soldiers drinking too much wine at the posada. Ha! But pirates’ raids cause rescue parties, and rescue parties cause strange comrades!”

“I am appreciating the fact,” Fray Felipe replied quietly and with a smile.

“So they stole your sacred goblet, did they?” Sergeant Gonzales said smoothly. “Fray, when I have rescued the señorita, aided Don Diego to escape, and annihilated the pirates with my blade, then will I regain your goblet for you! Steal church goblets and brides, eh? Ha! Meal mush and goat’s milk!”

“If your sword arm is half as strong as your tongue, señor,” Fray Felipe rebuked him gently, “then the pirates are as good as dead already!”

Sergeant Gonzales whirled upon him.

“Ha! Stinging words from a gentle fray!” he gasped. “Is it possible for me to get insulted where and when I can wipe out the insult with a thrust? A caballero insults me and then refuses to fight because of the noble blood in his veins and the poor swill in mine! A fray insults me—and I cannot fight a man who wears a gown! Meal mush and goat’s milk! But wait until we meet up with these pirates! Let a pirate but insult me, and—ha! My blade shall be bathed in blood!”

Sergeant Gonzales turned away abruptly to nurse his wrath, and Fray Felipe smiled and his eyes twinkled. He waited a moment, then touched the sergeant on the shoulder.

“Soldiers and frailes alike are needed in the world,” Fray Felipe said. “There are times when a hardy soldier should be gentle—and even there are times when a fray should fight. Let us be friends!”

“Fray,” Sergeant Gonzales declared, “you are a noble fellow, after all! I forgive you for what you said about drinking wine. When the muss commences, fray, get you behind me. My sword shall shield you, fray!”

“I thank you,” Fray Felipe said. “And I shall shield you in turn with my prayers.”

“Prayers may have power,” Sergeant Gonzales told him, “but when it comes to fighting pirates give me my trusty blade! Fray, a pirate has not sense enough to know when a prayer is directed against him!”

Soon they came alongside the schooner and mounted to the deck by the light of torches. The boats were swung aboard, and the captain and Don Audre Ruiz held a long conference. Then there came a volley of orders, the anchor came up and the sails filled, and the schooner crept off the shore and away from the land through the black night.

Straight out to sea they went, gathering headway, and in time a faint streak of light showed across the land and the dawn came. Caballeros and crew strained their eyes and swept the sea in every direction. And finally the sharp eyes of one of the men aloft discovered a sail.

The course of the trading schooner was changed, and the chase began. Nearer their quarry they crept as the sun came up and bathed the sea and the land, glistening through the haze. Glasses were leveled at the distant craft.

“She is the pirate!” the schooner’s captain declared. “Her flag of iniquity flies from her mast!”

He bellowed another volley of orders to his crew, and they crowded on all sail. They rushed about the schooner, preparing her for the battle. The eager caballeros looked to their blades, the crew to their cutlasses.

“If Zorro is aboard that craft he should know that his friends are near at hand for the rescue,” Don Audre said.

And then it was that they got out a sail and painted a gigantic Z upon it, and sent it aloft. It was their banner of battle, a flag of war that betokened their allegiance to a man and a cause.

“Courage and swift work does it!” the schooner’s captain told Don Audre. “We are greatly outnumbered. But my crew has had dealings with pirates before, hence each man will fight with the strength of five. And you and your friends, Don Audre, have good reason for fighting like fiends.”

“We are prepared to do it,” Don Audre replied. “Think you that we can overhaul the pirate?”

“It is but a question of time,” the captain declared. “The pirate sails prettily, but her bottom is foul. I can tell that much at this distance. Pirates are too lazy to keep a ship in perfect shape. And this little schooner of mine is a swift craft and in prime condition.”

They gained steadily, and meanwhile they watched the distant pirate ship continually. They saw that there was some sort of a tumult on board. Don Audre Ruiz, standing at the rail near the bow, with a glass glued to his eye, watched carefully.

“It is probable that Señor Zorro is fighting the entire pirate company,” he announced. “I can see men running about the rigging. Let us pray that we may be in time.”

Sergeant Gonzales, standing near him, uttered an oath that the presence of Fray Felipe did not keep back.

“Meal mush and goat’s milk!” he exclaimed. “Let us crowd on more sail and have at these pirates!” He swept his blade from its scabbard. “That for a pirate!” he shrieked, thrusting about him in a rage. “This for a pirate! Ha!”

“Save your breath and your strength,” Don Audre advised him. “You may have need of them both soon.”

“Did you hear that, fray?” Sergeant Gonzales demanded, whirling upon old Felipe. “More insults, and I cannot avenge them! A caballero insults me and will not fight, and I cannot fight a fray! By the time we clash with these pirates I shall be in a fine rage, and work it off on their worthless bodies. Ha!”

Don Audre Ruiz gave a gasp and called some of the caballeros to his side.

“Look!” he directed. “They are making some poor devil walk the plank! By the saints, ’tis Zorro!”

“Zorro!” the others cried.

“Look! And the little señorita is standing at the rail, forced to watch!”

There was a moment of horrified silence. The face of Don Audre Ruiz was white as he contemplated the fate of his friend. The caballeros said not a word, but those who had glasses watched, and the others strained their eyes in an effort to see.

And then Don Audre Ruiz gave a low cry of horror and turned quickly away, as though he could endure the sight no longer.

What he had seen had been enough. There were traces of tears in his eyes, and his voice choked.

“He is gone!” Don Audre said. “Don Diego, my friend! We can only avenge him now!”

“Gone!” Sergeant Gonzales cried, sudden tears in his eyes, too. He brushed them away roughly and blinked. “Don Diego gone? Then, by the saints, will my blade be thrust as it never has been thrust before! Now, by the saints—”

His vow ended in a choke of emotion, and he turned quickly away. Don Audre, his eyes stinging, his lips set in a thin, straight line, turned to Fray Felipe.

“Say your prayers for him,” he directed. “And pray, also, that we will know how to avenge him when we come alongside! Dios! Give strength to my arm!”

CHAPTER XIV.
OUT OF THE DEPTHS.

Smiling in the face of death, Señor Zorro yet battled to keep from showing his genuine emotions, because of the presence of the señorita. But in that awful moment when he stood upon the plank, looking first at the evil faces of Barbados and Sanchez, and then at the agonized countenance of Señorita Lolita Pulido, he knew what torture meant.

It was not that Señor Zorro was afraid of death in itself—a thing that must come to every human being in the end. But his agony came from a knowledge of what he would leave behind when he took the plunge into the sea.

The woman he had hoped to make his bride, his friends, his father, his estate—he was leaving them all for the Great Unknown. And he was young, and had not lived his fill of life. Besides, he was leaving the señorita in grave danger. He could only hope that his friends in the vessel behind would be able to be of service to her, and that they would know how to avenge him.

Barbados gave his last mocking laugh, and Señor Zorro felt the plank tipping. He felt himself losing his balance. The heavy weight on his wrists was almost bending him backward. He knew how swiftly it would carry him down into the depths of the sea. Then would come a brief and useless struggle, he supposed, a moment of horror—and the end!

His eyes met those of the señorita yet again. And then it seemed that everything gave way beneath him and he shot downward.

There came a splash of water as he struck the surface—he felt its sudden chill—and then the waves closed over his head. He was a famous swimmer, but no man can swim with a heavy bar of metal tied to his wrists, and those wrists lashed behind his back.

Mechanically Señor Zorro protected himself as he struck the water, as though for a deep dive. He drew air into his lungs until it seemed that they would burst. He kicked in vain against the down-pulling power of the heavy weight. Down and down he went into the depths until the light from the surface faded and he found himself in darkness.

Señor Zorro prayed and worked at the same instant. He jerked his wrists from side to side behind his back, trying to force them apart. He expelled a tiny bit of air now and then as he descended, but retained it as much as possible.

Often he had played at remaining as long as possible beneath water, but it is one thing to do so when a man has the knowledge that he can spring to the surface at any time, and quite another when he has reason to believe that he never will reach the surface again at all.

Yet he continued to struggle as he shot downward. Red flashes were before his eyes now, and a multitude of faces and scenes seemed to flit before him.

In that awful instant he relived half his life.

“Dios!” he thought. “If this be death—”

Another tug he gave at his wrists. The man who had lashed the heavy weight there had not done his work well. Perhaps he was too busy watching Barbados and fearing him. Perhaps he had held a sneaking admiration for this Señor Zorro, who had offered battle to an entire ship’s company. However, the rope that held the weight gave a trifle.

Señor Zorro, in his agony, realized that. He tugged again, and then pressed his palms close together and drew in his wrists as much as possible. The heavy weight, dragging downward, pulled the loose loop over the wrists and hands. Zorro felt an immediate relief. He realized what had happened. And then he began his battle to reach the surface. The weight was gone, but his wrists were still lashed together behind his back.

He kicked and struggled and shot upward. He expelled more of the precious air his lungs retained. His chest was burning, his ears were ringing, he was almost unconscious because of the pressure of the water he had been forced to endure.

He saw a glimmer of light, but knew that the surface was yet far away. And it occurred to him that even the surface did not mean life. For his wrists were yet bound behind him, and he was miles from the shore.

On he went, up and up, struggling and fighting. He jerked at his wrists until they were raw and bleeding, but to no avail. Those who had lashed his wrists had done better than the one who had fastened the weight to them.

And finally he gave a last struggle, a last kick, and felt the blessed air striking upon his face.

He fought to get into the proper position for resting as much as he could. He kept afloat, and he drew in great gasps of air, and finally reduced his breathing to normal. And then, as he rose on the crest of a wave, he looked around as well as he could.

The pirate ship was some distance away, sailing slowly before a gentle breeze. Señor Zorro found himself floating in her wake. He could see men rushing around her deck and up into her rigging, but at the distance could not guess their tasks.

The wave dropped him and lifted him again, spinning him halfway around. Señor Zorro gasped at the risk of swallowing a portion of salt water. Bearing down upon him was the other craft, the one with the gigantic Z up on the sail. Zorro saw that he was directly in her path.

Not much hope burned in his breast, yet the spirit of combat still lived. He would not give up so long as there was the slightest chance. He would fight—fight—until, exhausted, he sank for the last time toward the bottom of the sea.

Those on the approaching ship did not see him, for they were watching the pirate craft and preparing for the battle that was to come.

He hailed those on board, but his voice was drowned by the roar of the water against the schooner’s bows. He saw that she would strike him, and kicked frantically to work himself to one side of the track she was following. Another glance ahead at the pirate craft convinced him that the schooner would not change her course.

Once more he tugged at his bonds, to no avail. He felt himself drawn in toward the schooner’s bows, and fought against the pull of the water helplessly. He was picked up, hurled forward, whirled around. Had he saved himself from the depths, he wondered, to be crushed senseless by the bow of the craft that carried his friends? Then she was upon him. He rose with the crest of a wave and was hurled at the bow.

He saw an anchor chain that was loosely looped and a dragging line. If he could but catch one of those and make his way to the deck, there might be some chance. Once more the sea whirled him and cast him forward. He came against the swinging loop of anchor chain with a crash, grasped it, was lifted and dropped, but held on!

For a moment he rested, panting, realizing how precarious was his position. He threw one leg around the swinging chain. How to reach the bowsprit he could not fathom. Those above would pay no attention to him, and could not hear him if he hailed. And to climb that swinging loop of chain would be a task for an athlete with his hands unbound.

The bow of the ship dipped, and Señor Zorro felt himself soused beneath the water for an instant. He gripped the chain with his hands and his leg and fought to maintain his position. His arms were aching, and the chain had cut through his clothing already and was chafing at his leg. Once more the bow dipped, and Zorro slipped a few feet along the chain, unable to stop his descent.

He gripped with his leg again. His hands came to a stop, and he realized that the rope that bound them had found an obstruction. Zorro worked slowly and carefully with his fingers, even as he held on. One of the links of the chain, he found, was imperfect, had cracked, and presented on one side a jagged edge.

Hope sang in his breast once more. But he knew that he would have to work carefully. He did not dare release his hold entirely, for a sudden dip of the bow and the quick wash of the water would be enough to sweep him from the chain. But he sawed back and forth as well as he could, pulling the rope across the rough edge of the chain link.

He glanced ahead. The ships were not far apart now, and the schooner swung a bit to starboard, so as to bear down upon the pirate craft from a more advantageous angle. Zorro worked frantically, and after a time he felt the rope give. His wrists were raw and paining. His leg was bleeding already. There were pains in his head, and his vision was imperfect, but hope sang within him once more.

He sawed and sawed, and once more he glanced ahead. It would not be long now before the ships clashed. He wanted to be up on the deck, normal breath in his nostrils and the sword of Zorro in his hand, to aid his friends, to fight his way to the deck of the pirate craft and to the señorita’s side.

The rope gave again. Señor Zorro was forced to rest for a moment, leaning back on the chain. A wave swept him to one side, and he thought for an instant that he was gone. But he regained his balance and continued his sawing.

And presently he knew that he was free. The rope dangled from one wrist only. He gave an exclamation of delight and thanks, gripped the chain, and turned over. He regarded his bleeding wrists, hesitated a moment, gathered breath and courage, and commenced the perilous ascent of the chain.

It was a painful and difficult task. Señor Zorro set his teeth into his lower lip and struggled upward foot by foot. The swinging chain, slippery, from the sea, threatened to pitch him back into the water. Every few feet he was obliged to stop, to gasp for breath and close his eyes for a moment because the pain in his wrists and leg made him weak with nausea.

He came within a short distance of the vessel, slipped back, and forced his way upward again. And finally he grasped with one hand the chain port and held on. His hope had increased now. Nothing would make him loose his hold, he told himself.

A moment he rested, then forced his way upward again. The schooner was very close to the pirate ship now. On the deck above him Señor Zorro could hear Don Audre Ruiz shrieking instructions to the caballeros and the captain shouting to his crew.

He managed to get up to the butt of the bowsprit, and there, safe from the sea, he rested for a moment again. The two ships would crash together in a minute or so, he saw. He raised his head weakly, and took a deep breath, and then struggled to his feet, ready to spring down to the deck.

His hand went down to whip the sword of Zorro from its scabbard. The schooner yawed suddenly as her helmsman fought to get a position of advantage. The big jib swung back, whipped by the angry wind.

Señor Zorro was looking down at the deck, and he did not see his danger. Don Audre Ruiz turned at the instant, shrieked, and rubbed his eyes.

“Zorro!” he cried.

He was seen from the deck of the pirate craft, too.

Barbados and Sanchez caught sight of him. Sanchez crossed himself quickly, and the face of Barbados turned white.

And then the jib cracked against Señor Zorro’s body, knocked him from his precarious perch, and hurled him once more into the sea!

CHAPTER XV.
A SHOW OF GRATITUDE.

The schooner sailed on, and came against the pirate ship with a crash. But here was a battle unlike the usual one when honest men met pirates. As a usual thing, the pirates could be expected to board and slay without mercy, to loot, and then either to destroy the ill-fated vessel or take it away a prize. And the honest men could be expected only to offer what defense they could. But here was a case where the honest men were more than willing to carry the fight to the pirates. For Don Audre Ruiz and his caballero friends had seen Señor Zorro walk the plank, and also they fought to rescue a lady.

But both forces found themselves disconcerted at the outset. Don Audre Ruiz, glancing toward the bow of the schooner, was sure that he saw Señor Zorro standing there against a background of sky and water, his figure dripping. He rubbed his eyes and looked again—and Señor Zorro was gone!

“’Tis the spirit of Zorro come to aid us!” Don Audre cried. “I saw him for a moment, waving his hand at me and reaching for his blade! The spirit of Zorro fights with us!”

The caballeros were not certain what he meant, but they cheered his words and rushed toward the rail, their gleaming blades ready to be dyed a crimson. Fray Felipe knelt beside the mast in prayer. But Sergeant Gonzales, standing with his feet wide apart and his sword in his hand, stared foolishly toward the bow and gasped his astonishment and fear.

“I saw him!” the sergeant shrieked. “I saw Don Diego, my friend! By the saints—”

The ships crashed together. But the pirates did not rush as was their custom. For fear had clutched at their superstitious natures, even as it had clutched at Barbados and Sanchez, his evil lieutenant. Sanchez had shrieked the news, but Barbados did not heed his intelligence. Barbados himself had seen Señor Zorro standing against the sky. And how may a man do that when he has been sent to the bottom of the sea with a heavy weight fastened to him?

“Fiends of hell!” Barbados screeched. “This Zorro must be a demon!”

“We cannot fight against ghosts!” Sanchez cried. “We are lost before we commence.”

Barbados seemed to come to himself and shake off his terror in part. He instantly was eager to win free from the trading schooner. He did not fear the caballeros, who were greatly outnumbered now, but he did fear the supernatural. He forgot the chance for murder and loot, and wanted only to get away.

Barbados shrieked his commands, and the half-stupefied pirates ran to execute them. The pirate craft swung away from the schooner, so that men could not spring from one ship to the other. There were less than half a dozen clashes of blades; less than half a dozen minor wounds.

Slowly the pirate craft fell away. The helmsman of the schooner worked frantically to bring his ship back into the wind. The caballeros and the members of the schooner’s crew waited, eager for the two ships to come together again, that they might engage the pirates and fight to victory.

Barbados howled more commands. From the pirate ship came a rain of fire balls, and flaming torches were hurled. It was a favorite pirate trick, and the men knew what their commander wanted. Clouds of pungent smoke rolled across the deck of the schooner.

The caballeros gasped and fought to get to the clean, pure air. Their nostrils and throats were raw, their eyes stinging.

Through the dense smoke they could see little. The pirate ship gradually was lengthening the distance between her and the trading schooner. The pirates’ work had been done.

For the sails of the schooner were wrapped in flames, and bits of them fell, burning, to the deck below. Flames licked at the tarred rigging and spread out on the spars.

“She’s making away!” Don Audre Ruiz cried. “She’s running from us!”

There seemed to be no question about it now. The pirates were hurrying away without giving battle. And the raging caballeros wanted battle, and they remembered that the señorita was yet on the pirate craft.

The captain was howling to his crew, and the men were fighting the raging flames. The caballeros, forgetting their silks and satins and plumes, ran to help. Here was a foe more formidable than pirates of the open sea.

The schooner drifted with the water and the wind in the wake of the pirate ship. The smoke drifted away, and finally the fire was extinguished. Quick inventory was taken of the damage.

It did not amount to so very much, since the rigging had not been burned to a great extent. But the sails were gone, for the greater part, and pursuit for the moment at an end.

Again the captain shouted his commands, and as his men hurried to carry them out he turned to Don Audre.