The Free Lances: A Romance of the Mexican Valley

Chapter Thirty Five

Double Mounted

The labourers hoeing among the young maize plants, and the tlachiquero drawing the sap from his magueys, saw a sight to astonish them. Two horses of unusual size, both carrying double, and going at full gallop as if running a race – on one of them two men in cloaks, blue and scarlet; the other ridden by a giant, with a mis-shapen monkey-like creature clinging on the croup behind – harness bridles, with collars dancing loose around their necks – chains hanging down and clanking at every bound they made – all this along field paths, in an out-of-the-way neighbourhood where such horses and such men had never been seen before! To the cultivator of “milpas” and the collector of “aguamiel” it was a sight not only to astonish, but inspire them with awe, almost causing the one to drop his hoe, the other his half-filled hog-skin, and take to their heels. But both being of the pure Aztecan race, long subdued and submissive, yet still dreaming of a return to its ancient rule and glories, they might have believed it their old monarchs, Monctezuna and Guatimozin, come back again, or the god Oatluetzale himself.

In whatever way the spectacle affected them, they were not permitted long to look upon it. For the galloping pace was kept up without halt or slowing; the strange-looking horses – with the men upon their backs, still stranger to look at – soon entered a chapparal, which bordered the maize and maguey fields, and so passed out of sight.

“We’re near the end of our ride now,” said Rivas to Kearney, after they had been some time threading their way through the thicket, the horses from necessity going at a walk. “If ’twere not for this ironmongery around our ankles, I could almost say we’re safe. Unfortunately, where we’ve got to go the chains will be a worse impediment than ever. The file! Have we forgotten it?”

“No,” answered Kearney, drawing it from under his cloak, and holding it up.

“Thoughtful of you, caballero. In the haste, I had; and we should have been helpless without it, or at all events awkwardly fixed. If we only had time to use it now. But we haven’t – not so much as a minute to spare. Besides the lances from Chapultepec, there’s a cavalry troop of some kind – huzzars I take it – coming on from the city. While we were cutting loose from the carriage, I fancied I heard a bugle-call in the direction cityward. Of course, with guns and bells signalling, we may expect pursuit from every point of the compass. Had we kept to the roads, we’d have been met somewhere. As it is, if they give us another ten minutes’ grace, I’ll take you into a place where there’s not much fear of our being followed – by mounted men, anyhow.”

Kearney heard this without comprehending. Some hiding-place, he supposed, known to the Mexican. It could only mean that. But where? Looking ahead, he saw the mountains with their sides forest-clad, and there a fugitive might find concealment. But they were miles off; and how were they to be reached by men afoot – to say nothing of the chains – with cavalry in hue and cry all around them? He put the question.

“Don’t be impatient, amigo!” said the Mexican in response; “you’ll soon see the place I speak of, and that will be better than any description I could give. It’s a labyrinth which would have delighted Daedalus himself. Mira! You behold it now!”

He pointed to a façade of rock, grey, rugged, and precipitous, trending right and left through the chapparal far as they could see. A cliff, in short, though of no great elevation; on its crest, growing yuccas, cactus, and stunted mezquite trees.

“The Pedregal!” he added, in a cheerful voice, “and glad am I to see it. I’ve to thank old Vulcan or Pluto for making such a place. It has saved my life once before, and I trust will do the same now, for all of us. But we must be quick about it. Adelante!”

The horses were urged into a final spurt of speed, and soon after arrived at the base of the rocky escarpment, which would have barred them further advance in that direction, had the intention been to take them on. But it was not.

“We must part from them, now,” said Rivas. “Dismount all!”

All four slipped off together, Rock taking hold of both bridles, as if he waited to be told what to do.

“We mustn’t leave them here,” said the Mexican. “They might neigh, and so guide our pursuers to the spot. In another hour, or half that, we needn’t care; it’ll be dark then – ”

He interrupted himself, seeming to reflect, which, the Texan observing, said to Kearney —

“He weeshes the anymals sent off, do he?”

“Just that, Cris.”

“I war thinkin’ o’ thet same, meself. The groun’ for a good spell back hez been hard as flint, an’ we hain’t left much o’ trail, nothin’ as a set o’ bunglin’ yaller-bellies air like ter take up. As for startin’ the horses, that’s easy as fallin’ off a log. Let me do it.”

“Do it.”

“Take holt o’ one then, Cap. Unbuckle the neck strap and pull off the bridle, when you see me do so wi’ t’other. It is a pity to act cruel to the poor brutes arter the sarvice they’ve did us; but thar ain’t no help for ’t. Riddy, air ye?”

“Ready!”

The Texan had taken out his knife; and in another instant its blade was through the horse’s ear, the bridle jerked off at the same time. The animal, uttering a terrified snort, reared up, spun round, and broke away in frenzied flight through the thorny chapparal. The other, also released, bounded after, both soon passing out of sight.

“Bueno—bravo!” cried the Mexican, admiringly, relieved of his dilemma. “Now, señors, we must continue the march afoot, and over ground that’ll need help from our hands, too. Vamonos!”

Saying which, he took up the bridles, and tossed them over the crest of the cliff; then ascended himself, helping Kearney. There was no path; but some projections of the rock – ledges, with the stems of cactus plants growing upon their – made the ascent possible. The Texan swarmed up after, with hunchback at his heels; as he got upon the top, turning suddenly round, laying hold of the chain, and with a “Jee up,” hoisting the creature feet foremost!

Another second and they were all out of sight; though not a second too soon. For as they turned their backs upon the cliff, they could hear behind, on the farther edge of the thicket through which they had passed, the signal calls of a cavalry bugle.

Chapter Thirty Six

The Pedregal

Interesting as is the Mexican Valley in a scenic sense, it is equally so in the geological one; perhaps no part of the earth’s crust of like limited area offering greater attractions to him who would study the lore of the rocks. There he may witness the action of both Plutonic and Volcanic forces, not alone in records of the buried past, but still existing, and too oft making display of their mighty power in the earthquake and the burning mountain.

There also may be observed the opposed processes of deposition and denudation in the slitting up of great lakes, and the down wearing of hills by tropical rain storms, with the river torrents resulting from them.

Nor is any portion of this elevated plateau more attractive to the geologist than that known as “El Pedregal”; a tract lying in its south-western corner, contiguous to the Cerro de Ajusco, whose summit rises over it to a height of 6,000 feet and 13,000 above the level of the sea.

It is a field of lava vomited forth from Ajusco itself in ages long past, which, as it cooled, became rent into fissures and honey-combed with cavities of every conceivable shape. Spread over many square miles of surface, it tenders this part of the valley almost impassable. No wheeled vehicle can be taken across it; and even the Mexican horse and mule – both sure-footed as goats – get through it with difficulty, and only by one or two known paths. To the pedestrian it is a task; and there are places into which he even cannot penetrate without scaling cliffs and traversing chasms deep and dangerous. It bristles with cactus, zuccas, and other forms of crystalline vegetation, characteristic of a barren soil. But there are spots of great fertility – hollows where the volcanic ashes were deposited – forming little oases, into which the honest Indian finds his way for purposes of cultivation. Others less honest seek refuge in its caves and coverts, fugitives from justice and the gaols – not always criminals, however, for within it the proscribed patriot and defeated soldier oft find an asylum.

In the four individuals who had now entered there was all this variety, if he who directed their movements was what the Condesa Almonté described him. In any case, he appeared familiar with the place and its ways, saying to Kearney, as they went on —

“No thanks to me for knowing all about the Pedregal. I was born on its edge; when a boy bird-nested and trapped armadilloes all over it. Twisted as this path is, it will take us to a spot where we needn’t fear any soldiers following us – not this night anyhow. To-morrow they may, and welcome.”

Their march was continued, but not without great difficulty, and much exertion of their strength. They were forced to clamber over masses of rock, and thread their way through thickets of cactus, whose spines, sharp as needles, lacerated their skins. With the coupling-chains still on, it was all the more difficult to avoid them.

Luckily, they had not far to go before arriving at the place where their conductor deemed it safe to make a stop. About this there was nothing particular, more than its being a hollow, where they could stand upright without danger of being seen from any of the eminences around. Descending into it, Rivas said —

“Now, Don Florencio, you can finish the little job you were interrupted at, without much fear of having to knock off again.”

At which he raised the chain, and held it rested on something firmer than the cushion of a carriage. So placed, the file made better progress, and in a short time the link was cut through, letting them walk freely apart.

“Caballero!” exclaimed the Mexican, assuming an attitude as if about to propose a toast; “may our friendship be more difficult to sever than that chain, and hold us longer together – for life, I hope.”

Kearney would not have been a son of Erin to refuse reciprocating the pretty compliment, which he did with all due warmth and readiness.

But his work was not over. Rock and Zorillo had yet to be uncoupled; the former, perhaps, longing to be delivered more than any of the four. He had conceived a positive disgust for the hunchback; though, as already said, less on account of the creature’s physical than moral deformity, of which last he had ample evidence during the short while they were together. Nor had it needed for him to understand what the latter said. A natural physiognomist, he could read in Zorillo’s eyes the evil disposition of the animal from which he drew his name.

As Kearney approached him with the file, the Texan raising his foot, and planting it on a ledge of rock, said —

“Cut through thar, Cap – the link as air nixt to my ankle-clasp.”

This was different to what had been done with the other, which had been severed centrally. It was not intended to take off the whole of the chains yet. The Mexican said there was no time for so much filing; that must be done when they got farther on.

“Yer see, Cap,” added Rock, giving a reason for the request, “’fore it’s all over, who knows I mayn’t need full leg freedom ’ithoot any hamper? So gie the dwarf the hul o’ the chain to carry. He desarve to hev it, or suthin’ else, round his thrapple ’stead o’ his leg. This chile have been contagious to the grist o’ queer company in his perambulations roun’ and about; but niver sech as he. The sight of him air enough to give a nigger the gut ache.”

And in his quaint vernacular he thus rambled on all the time Kearney was at work, his rude speech being an appropriate symphony to the rasping of the file.

He at the other end of the coupling-chain lay squatted along the ground, saying not a word, but his eyes full of sparkle and mischief, as those of an enraged rattle-snake. Still, there was fear in his face; for though he could not tell what was being said, he fancied it was about himself, and anything but in his favour. He was with the other three, but not of them; his conscience told him that. He was in their way, too; had been all along, and would be hereafter. What if they took into their heads to rid themselves of him in some violent manner? They might cut his throat with one of the knives he had seen them make such dexterous use of! Reflecting in this fashion, no wonder he was apprehensive.

Something was going to be done to him different from the rest, he felt sure. After the chain had been got apart the other three drew off to a distance, and stood as if deliberating. It must be about himself.

And about him it was – the way to dispose of him.

“I hardly know what we’re to do with the little beast,” said Rivas. “Leave him here loose we daren’t; he’d slip back again, good as certain, and too soon for our safety. If we tie him he will cry out, and might be heard. We’re not far enough away. Oiga! They’re beating up the cover we’ve just come out of. Yes; they’re in the chapparal now!”

It was even so, as could be told by the occasional call of a bugle sounding skirmish signals.

“Why not tie and gag him, too?” asked Kearney.

“Sure we could do that. But it wouldn’t be safe either. They might find their way here at once. But if they didn’t find it at all, and no one came along – ”

“Ah! I see,” interrupted the Irishman, as the inhumanity of the thing became manifest to him. “He might perish, you mean?”

“Just so. No doubt the wretch deserves it. From all I’ve heard of him, he does richly. But we are not his judges, and have no right to be his executioners.”

Sentiments not such as might have been expected from the lips of a bandit!

“No, certainly not,” rejoined Kearney, hastening to signify his approval of them.

“What do you think we should do with him, Rock?” he added, addressing himself to the Texan, who quite comprehended the difficulty.

“Wal’, Cap; ’t ’ud be marciful to knock him on the head at onc’t, than leave him to gasp it out with a stopper in his mouth; as ye say the Mexikin thinks he mout. But thar ain’t no need for eyther. Why not toat him along? Ef he should bother us I kin heist him on my back, easy enuf. A ugly burden he’d be, tho’ ’tain’t for the weight o’ him.”

The Texan’s suggestion was entertained, no other course seeming safe, except at the probable sacrifice of the creature’s life. And that none of them contemplated for a moment. In fine, it was determined to take him on.

The colloquy now coming to an end, Rivas and the Irishman caught up the pieces of chain still attached to their ankles, each making the end of his own fast round his wrist, so as not to impede their onward march. This done, they all moved on again, the Mexican, of course, foremost, Kearney at his heels. After him, Cris Rock, chain in hand, half leading, half-dragging the dwarf, as a showman might his monkey.

In this way there was no danger of his betraying them. He could shout and still have been heard by those behind. But an expressive gesture of the Texan admonished him that if he made a noise, it would be the last of him.

Chapter Thirty Seven

A Suspicion of Connivance

“Suspicious, to say the least of it! If a coincidence, certainly the strangest in my experience, or that I’ve ever heard of. A score of other carriages passing, and they to have chosen that one of all! Carrai! it cannot have been chance – improbable – impossible!”

So soliloquised the Chief Magistrate of Mexico, after receiving a report of what had occurred in the Callé de Plateros. He had as yet only been furnished with a general account of it; but particularising the prisoners who had escaped, with their mode of making off, as also whose carriage they had seized upon. He had been told, also, that there were two ladies in it, but needed not telling who they were.

All this was made known by a messenger who came post-haste to the Palace, soon after the occurrence. He had been sent by Colonel Santander, who could not come himself; too busy getting the Hussars into their saddles for the pursuit – for he it was who led it. And never did man follow fugitives with more eagerness to overtake them, or more bitter chagrin in their flight.