The White Chief: A Legend of Northern Mexico Read online

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

  The announcement made by the cibolero on the bluff startled Don Juan, asif a shot had passed through him. Up to this time the simple rancherohad no thought but that they were on the trail of Indians. Even thesingular fact of the trail leading back to the valley had not undeceivedhim. He supposed the Indians had made some other and later foray inthat quarter, and that they would hear of them as soon as they shoulddescend the cliffs.

  When Carlos pointed to the Presidio, and said, "She is there!" hereceived the announcement at first with surprise, then with incredulity.

  Another word from the cibolero, and a few moments' reflection, and hisincredulity vanished. The terrible truth flashed upon his mind, for he,too, remembered the conduct of Vizcarra on the day of the fiesta. Hisvisit to the rancho and other circumstances now rushed before him,aiding the conviction that Carlos spoke the truth.

  For some moments the lover could scarce give utterance to his thoughts,so painful were they. More painful than ever! Even while under thebelief that his mistress was in the hands of wild Indians he sufferedless. There was still some hope that, by their strange code in relationto female captives, she might escape that dreaded fate, until he andCarlos might come up and rescue her. But now the time that hadelapsed--Vizcarra's character--O God! it was a terrible thought; and theyoung man reeled in his saddle as it crossed his mind.

  He rode back a few paces, flung himself from his horse, and staggered tothe ground in the bitterness of his anguish.

  Carlos remained on the bluff, still gazing down on the Presidio. Heseemed to be maturing some plan. He could see the sentries on thebattlements, the troopers lounging around the walls in their dark blueand crimson uniforms. He could even hear the call of the cavalry bugle,as its clear echoes came dancing along the cliffs. He could see thefigure of a man--an officer--pacing to and fro on the azotea, and hecould perceive that the latter had halted, and was observing him.

  It was at this very moment that Vizcarra had caught sight of thehorseman on the bluff--the sight that had so terrified him, and whichindeed was no illusion.

  "Can it be that fiend himself?" thought Carlos, regarding the officerfor a moment. "Quite likely it is he. Oh! that he were within range ofmy rifle! Patience--patience! I will yet have my revenge!"

  And as the speaker muttered these words, he reined back from the bluffand rejoined his companion.

  A consultation was now held as to what would be the best mode ofproceeding. Antonio was called to their council, and to him Carlosdeclared his belief that his sister was a captive within the Presidio.It was telling Antonio what he had already divined. The _mestizo_ hadbeen to the fiesta as well as his master, and his keen eyes had beenbusy on that day. He, too, had observed the conduct of Vizcarra; andlong before their halt he had arrived at an elucidation of the manymysteries that marked the late Indian incursion. He knew all--hismaster might have saved words in telling him.

  Neither words nor time were wasted. The hearts of both brother andlover were beating too hurriedly for that. Perhaps at that moment theobject of their affection was in peril,--perhaps struggling with herruffian abductor! Their timely arrival might save her!

  These considerations took precedence of all plans; in fact, there was noplan they could adopt, to remain concealed--to skulk about the place--towait for opportunity--what opportunity? They might spend days infruitless waiting. Days!--hours--even minutes would be too long. Not amoment was to be lost before some action must be taken.

  And what action? They could think of none--none but open action. What!dare a man not claim his own sister? Demand her restoration?

  But the thought of refusal--the thought of subterfuge--in fact, thecertainty that such would be the result--quite terrified them both.

  And yet how else could they act? They would at least give publicity tothe atrocious deed; that might serve them. There would be sympathy intheir favour--perhaps more. Perhaps the people, slaves as they were,might surround the Presidio, and clamour loudly;--in some way thecaptive might be rescued. Such were their hurried reflections.

  "If not rescued," said Carlos, grinding his teeth together, "she shallbe revenged. Though the _garrota_ press my throat, he shall not live ifshe be dishonoured. I swear it!"

  "I echo the oath!" cried Don Juan, grasping the hilt of his _machete_.

  "Masters! dear masters!" said Antonio, "you both know I am not a coward.I shall aid you with my arm or my life; but it is a terrible business.Let us have caution, or we fail. Let us be prudent!"

  "True, we must be prudent. I have already promised that to my mother;but how, comrades?--how! In what does prudence consist?--to wait andwatch, while she--oh!"

  All three were silent for a while. None of them could think of afeasible plan to be pursued.

  The situation was, indeed, a most difficult one. There was thePresidio, and within its walls--perhaps in some dark chamber--thecibolero well knew his sister was a captive; but under such peculiarcircumstances that her release would be a most difficult enterprise.

  In the first place, the villain who held her would assuredly deny thatshe was there. To have released her would be an acknowledgment of hisguilt. What proof of it could Carlos give? The soldiers of thegarrison, no doubt, were ignorant of the whole transaction--with theexception of the two or three miscreants who had acted as aides. Werethe cibolero to assert such a thing in the town he would be laughed at--no doubt arrested and punished. Even could he offer proofs, whatauthority was there to help him to justice? The military was the law ofthe place, and the little show of civic authority that existed would bemore disposed to take sides against him than in his favour. He couldexpect no justice from any quarter. All the proof of his accusationwould rest only on such facts as would neither be understood norregarded by those to whom he might appeal. The return trail would beeasily accounted for by Vizcarra--if he should deign to take so muchtrouble--and the accusation of Carlos would be scouted as the fancy of amadman. No one would give credence to it. The very atrociousness ofthe deed rendered it incredible!

  Carlos and his companions were aware of all these things. They had nohope of help from any quarter. There was no authority that could givethem aid or redress.

  The cibolero, who had remained for a while silent and thoughtful, atlength spoke out. His tone was altered. He seemed to have conceivedsome plan that held out a hope.

  "Comrades!" he said, "I can think of nothing but an open demand, andthat must be made within the hour. I cannot live another hour withoutattempting her rescue--another hour, and what we dread--No! within thehour it must be. I have formed a sort of plan--it may not be the mostprudent--but there is no time for reflection. Hear it."

  "Go on!"

  "It will be of no use our appearing before the gate of the Presidio infull force. There are hundreds of soldiers within the walls, and ourtwenty Tagnos, though brave as lions, would be of no service in such anunequal fight. I shall go alone."

  "Alone?"

  "Yes; I trust to chance for an interview with _him_. If I can get that,it is all I want. He is her gaoler; and when the gaoler sleeps, thecaptive may be freed. He shall _sleep then_."

  The last words were uttered in a significant tone, while the speakerplaced his hand mechanically upon the handle of a large knife that wasstuck in his waist-belt.

  "_He shall sleep_ then!" he repeated; "and soon, if Fate favours me.For the rest I care not: I am too desperate. If she be dishonoured Icare not to live, but I shall have full revenge!"

  "But how will you obtain an interview?" suggested Don Juan. "He willnot give _you_ one. Would it not be better to disguise yourself? Therewould be more chance of seeing him that way?"

  "No! I am not easily disguised, with my light hair and skin. Besides,it would cost too much time. Trust me, I will not be rash. I have aplan by which I hope to get near him--to see him, at all events. If itfail, I intend to make no demonstration for the present. None of thewretches shall
know my real errand. Afterwards I may do as you advise,but now I cannot wait. I must on to the work. I believe it is he thatis at this moment pacing yonder azotea, and that is why I cannot wait,Don Juan. If it be me--"

  "But what shall we do?" asked Don Juan. "Can we not assist in any way?"

  "Yes, perhaps in my escape. Come on, I shall place you. Come onquickly. Moments are days. My brain's on fire. Come on!"

  So saying, the cibolero leaped into his saddle and struck rapidly downthe precipitous path that led to the valley.

  From the point where the road touched the valley bottom, for more than amile in the direction of the Presidio, it ran through a thick growth oflow trees and bushes forming a "chapparal," difficult to pass through,except by following the road itself.

  But there were several cattle-paths through the thicket, by which itmight be traversed; and these were known to Antonio the half-blood, whohad formerly lived in this neighbourhood. By one of those a party ofmounted men might approach within half-a-mile of the Presidio withoutattracting the observation of the sentries upon the walls. To thispoint, then, Antonio was directed to guide the party; and in due timethey arrived near the edge of the jungle, where, at the command ofCarlos, all dismounted keeping themselves and their horses under coverof the bushes.

  "Now," said the cibolero, speaking to Don Juan, "remain here. If Iescape, I shall gallop direct to this point. If I lose my horse, youshall see me afoot all the same. For such a short stretch I can runlike a deer: I shall not be overtaken. When I return I shall tell youhow to act.

  "See! Don Juan!" he continued, grasping the ranchero by the arm, anddrawing him forward to the edge of the chapparal. "It is he! by Heaven,it is he!"

  Carlos pointed to the azotea of the Presidio, where the head andshoulders of a man were seen above the line of the parapet.

  "It is the Comandante himself!" said Don Juan, also recognising him.

  "Enough! I have no time for more talk," cried the cibolero. "Now ornever! If I return, you shall know what to do. If not, I am taken orkilled. But stay here. Stay till late in the night; I may stillescape. Their prisons are not too strong; besides, I carry this gold.It may help me. No more. Adios! true friend, adios!"

  With a grasp of the ranchero's hand, Carlos leaped back to his saddle,and rode off.

  He did not go in the direction of the Presidio, as that would havediscovered him too soon. But a path that led through the chapparalwould bring him out on the main road that ran up to the front gate, andthis path he took. Antonio guided him to the edge of the timber, andthen returned to the rest.

  Carlos, once on the road, spurred his horse into gallop, and dashedboldly forward to the great gate of the Presidio. The dog Cibolofollowed, keeping close up to the heels of his horse.