The Gold-Seekers: A Tale of California
"Enough of this, scoundrel!" he shouted. "For a long time you have been plundering and insulting the travellers whom Providence sends to you. By heavens! If you do not on the instant demand my pardon for your insolence, and if you do not serve me with all that politeness I have a right to demand from you, I will inflict on you, upon the spot, a correction which you will remember your life long."
"Take care what you are about, my master," the huésped answered ironically. "You see that I have men to help me. If you do not decamp at once, all the worse for you. I have witnesses, and the juez de letras shall decide."
"Good heavens!" the colonel shouted, "that is too much, and removes all my scruples. The scoundrel threatens me with the law. Level your pieces, men, and fire on the first who stirs!"
The domestics obeyed. Don Sebastian then seized the host, despite his cries and desperate resistance, and in a second had him down on the ground.
"I believe I shall do a service to all the travellers whom their evil star may in future bring to this den," he continued, "by punishing this scamp as he deserves."
The witnesses of this scene – peons, arrieros, or travellers – had not made a move to help the host. It was evident that all, for certain reasons, were in their hearts pleased with what was happening to him. Not one of them would have dared to take on himself the responsibility of such an act; but as there was someone ready to do so, they were careful not to offer the slightest obstacle to him. By the peremptory order of the colonel, the poor landlord was fastened by two of his own servants to the long pole of the noria, and debarred from making the slightest movement.
"Now," the colonel continued, "each of you take a reata, and thrash him till he confesses himself conquered, and consents to do what I ask of him."
Despite their feigned repugnance, the host's two peons were compelled to obey the colonel; for his orders were supported by four rifles and two pistols, whose gaping muzzles were directed point blank at them. To honour the truth, we must confess that, either through terror or for some other cause, the two peons conscientiously performed their duty.
The host howled like a bull. He was mad with rage, and writhed like a viper in the bonds which he tried in vain to break. The colonel stood stoically by his side, only asking him from time to time, ironically, how he liked his arguments, and if he would soon make up his mind to yield. Human strength has limits which it cannot pass. In spite of all his fury and obstinacy, the host was forced to confess to himself, aside, that he had to do with a man more obstinate than he was, and that, if he did not wish to die under the lash, he must resolve to endure the humiliation imposed on him.
"I surrender," he said, in a voice broken as much by anger as by pain.
"Already!" the colonel remarked coldly. "Pooh! I fancied you braver. Why, you have hardly received thirty lashes. Stop, you fellows, and unfasten your master!"
The peons eagerly obeyed. When free, the host tried to rise, but his strength failed him, and he fell back on the ground, where he lay for several moments powerless to move. At length he made a desperate effort, and picked himself up. His face was pale; his features were contracted; an abundant perspiration stood on his temples, which throbbed as if ready to burst; he had a buzzing in his ears; and tears of shame poured from his eyes. He took a few tottering steps toward the colonel.
"I am at your orders, caballero," he said, bowing his head humbly. "Speak: what must I do?"
"Good!" the latter remarked. "Now you are reasonable; you are much better so. Give some provender to my horses, and assist my servants to wait on me."
"Pardon, caballero!" the huésped said. "Will you allow me to say two words to you?"
The colonel smiled contemptuously.
"To what end? I know them, and I will repeat them myself. You wish to warn me that, obliged to yield to superior force, you have done so, but you will avenge yourself on the first opportunity. Is not that it?"
"Yes," he muttered in a hollow voice.
"Very well; you are quite at liberty to do so, master host; but take your precautions, for I warn you that, if you miss me, I shall not miss you. So now wait on me, and make haste."
And, shrugging his shoulders, the colonel turned his back on him with a smile of disdain.
The host watched him depart with a hateful expression, which imparted something hideous to his face; and when he saw that the colonel was out of the yard, he shook his head twice or thrice, muttering to himself, —
"Yes, I will avenge myself, demon, and sooner than you imagine."
After this aside, he composed his face and attended to his household duties with an activity and apparent indifference that caused his servants to be thoughtful, for they knew his rancorous character. Still he did not complain; he made no allusion to the cruel punishment he had undergone, but, on the contrary, waited on the travellers with an attention and politeness they had not been accustomed to prior to this unlucky day; and they took advantage of the change, while keeping on their guard.
Still nothing apparently happened to justify their suspicions – all went on calmly: the travellers retired to bed one after the other; then the host made his round to assure himself that all was in order, and retired to the room reserved for his private use.
The colonel had already been asleep some hours, and was in a deep sleep, from which he was suddenly aroused by a noise he heard at his door.
"Who's there?" he asked.
"Silence!" someone answered outside. "Open; it is a friend."
"Friend or foe, tell me who you are, that I may know with whom I have to deal."
"I am," the voice made answer, "the man you met on the road."
"Hem! What do you want with me? Why are you not asleep at this hour, instead of coming to rouse me?"
"Open, in Heaven's name! I have important news to tell you."
The colonel hesitated for a moment, but soon reflecting that this man, to whom he had done no harm, could have no motive, for being his enemy, he decided on getting up. Still, through prudence, he cocked one of his pistols, which he had placed by his side on retiring to bed, and went to open the door. The stranger walked in quickly, and closed it after him.
"Speak low," he said hurriedly. "Listen to me: the host is forming some scheme against you."
"I suspect it," the colonel said, who, while speaking, had lit a candle; "but whatever he may do, I am out of his reach, and the scoundrel will be crushed if he attack me."
"Who knows?" the stranger said.
"Come, you know something positive. Have I any plot to fear inside the house?"
"I do not think so."
"Tell me what you have discovered, then."
"I will do so; but in the first place, as I am a total stranger to you, allow me to tell you my name."
"For what good?"
"No one knows what may happen in this world: it is useful to be able to distinguish one's friends from one's enemies."
"Speak; I am listening."
"You nearly guessed the truth. Under my starving appearance I conceal a certain monetary value. My name is Don Cornelio Mendoza. I am a student. I had at Guadalajara an aunt, who, on dying, appointed me her heir. I am carrying with me in my belt one hundred and fifty gold ounces, and in my portfolios bills for an equal amount payable at San Blas. You see that I am not so poor as I appear to be. But the road between the two cities is long and dangerous, and I assumed this disguise to escape the robbers, if that be possible."
"Very good, Don Cornelio: you can now, if you please, change your attire, for I hope that we shall pursue our journey together."
"With all my heart; but if it make no difference, I will retain my lepero dress provisionally."
"As you please; but now to the fact. What have you to tell me?"
"Not much, but yet enough to put us on our guard. Our landlord, after making his round and assuring himself that everyone had retired, woke up one of his servants, the very one who thrashed him with such good will."
"Yes, I remember that rogue's face."
"Very good. After calling him into his room, he remained shut up with him for ten minutes; then he opened a window, the peon leaped out on the highway, and ran off at full speed."
"Oh, oh!" the colonel said.
"The landlord looked after him till he disappeared, then muttered several words I could not understand, excepting one name, which, thanks to Heaven, reached my ear."
"What was it?"
"El Buitre (the Vulture)."
"Hum! Is that all?"
"Yes."
"It does not teach me much; but how did you learn all this? The landlord did not make you his confidant, I suppose?"
"No, not a bit in the world. I became his confidant in spite of himself, and in the most natural way. My cuarto is just over his room. I heard him open a window, and I listened."
"Yes, but unfortunately you heard nothing."
"Yes, a name."
"But a name which has no meaning for us."
"On the contrary, it is of enormous significance."
"How so?"
"The famous leader of the salteadores, whose band has been desolating the province for a year, is called El Buitre. Do you now understand?"
"Body o' me!" the colonel shouted, as he jumped up hurriedly, "I rather think I do understand."
III. – THE GENTLEMEN OF THE ROAD
We will for the moment quit the mesón of San Juan, and proceed about two leagues further on, where certain persons, with whom the reader must form an acquaintance, are assembled.
Hardly one hundred and fifty yards beyond the mesón the road begins to grow narrower; the mountains approach, as if wishful to shake hands, and that so abruptly and unexpectedly, that they form all at once a narrow and long gorge, which is known throughout the country as the barranca del mal paso.
After passing through this gorge, the scenery leaves its abrupt and savage aspect to resume a smiling character; the road widens again; a charming valley, intersected by a stream, presents itself to sight; and on all sides the eye surveys a deliciously accidented horizon.
On either side of the barranca begin impenetrable forests, through which a road can only be cut axe in hand, unless the traveller has a deep knowledge of the narrow and almost invisible paths which lead into the interior with innumerable twinings.
We must ask the reader to follow us to one of the most hidden and least known resorts in this forest.
In the centre of a vast clearing, where burned a cedar eighty feet in height, emitting incessant sparks, some twenty men in sordid garments – a horrible medley of luxury and indigence – with faces in which crime was written in capital letters, but all armed to the teeth, were assembled in groups of three or four each, drinking, eating, smoking, and singing.
Not far from them, their horses, saddled and ready to mount at the first signal, were eating their provender of alfalfa and climbing peas; while, on the edge of the covert, four or five men, motionless as bronze statues, were attentively surveying the surrounding country.
A little on one side, two men, seated on low stools, were talking and puffing in each other's faces enormous volleys of smoke. The first and elder of the two appeared about eight-and-twenty years of age; his long, light hair fell in heavy curls on his shoulders; his features were effeminate; but his aquiline nose, his bright blue eyes, and narrow forehead, imparted to his face a character of baseness and cold cruelty. He wore the splendid costume of the Mexican hacenderos, and was carelessly playing with the trigger of a splendid silver-mounted American rifle.
His companion offered a striking contrast to him: while the first was tall, well built, and endowed with pleasing manners, the second was short, stumpy, heavy, and repulsive in face, gestures, and even in language. The richness of his attire only seemed to render more striking the hideousness imprinted as an indelible stigma on this odious person. Everything announced in him the prowling jackal, that possesses all the ferocity of the lion, but none of that animal's nobility or courage.
The clearing we have described was one of the principal haunts of the Vulture, that terrible bandit who, at the time we write of, was ravaging the state of Guadalajara. The men collected in it formed his band, and the two men we have just introduced were, the first, El Buitre himself; the second, El Garrucholo, his lieutenant and dearest friend.
At the moment we bring them on the stage, these two interesting personages were engaged, as we shall see, in a confidential conversation. We may observe that, strangely enough, this conversation was not held in Spanish, but in English.
"Hem!" El Garrucholo said, as he inhaled a mouthful of smoke, which he immediately sent forth again from his mouth and nostrils. "What do you find so disagreeable in our profession, John? For my part, I consider it delightful. These worthy Mexicans are gentle as lambs; they allow themselves to be plundered with unequalled patience; and you will agree with me, my dear fellow, that we gain more by cutting the buttons from their calzoneras than by easing the richest gentleman down there."
"All that is possible, my friend," El Buitre answered, throwing away his cigarette with a gesture of impatience. "I do not assert the contrary. Assuredly the profit is large, and the risk nothing, I grant; but – "
"Well, why do you stop? Go on."
"In a word, I was not born for such a trade."
El Garrucholo gave vent to a hearty laugh.
"That's where the shoe galls you, then?" he said, with a shrug of his shoulders. "You are mad, comrade: every man is born for the trade he carries on, especially when he chose it himself."
"Would you assert by that – ?"
"What I say I mean. When I picked you up in Mexico, under the arcades of the Plaza Mayor, with a dagger buried in your breast up to the hilt, and not a real in your pockets, I should have done better, deuce take me, to let you die like a masterless dog, instead of curing you; at least, I should not have heard such nonsense from you."
"Why did you not do so? At any rate I should have died without dishonouring an honourable name."
"Deuce take the honourable name, and the man who bears it! My dear fellow, you annoy me by your ridiculous pretensions; you forget, with your mania for nobility, that you are only a foundling."
El Buitre frowned and seized his lieutenant's arm.
"Enough on that subject, Red Blood; you know that I have already warned you that I would not suffer any jesting on that head."
"Bah! What's the odds about being a foundling? A man ought not to feel annoyed at that; it is one of those accidents for which the most honest fellow cannot be responsible."
"You are my friend, Red Blood; or, at least, seem to be so."
"In your turn, my noble Mr. John Stanley," the bandit sharply interrupted him, "do not express such doubts about me; they grieve and insult me more than I can express. I am attached to you as the blade of my bowie-knife is to the hilt I am yours, body and soul. I have only that one virtue, if it be one; so pray do not strip me of it."
El Buitre remained silent for a moment, and then continued in a conciliating voice, —
"I am wrong. Pardon me, brother; in truth, I have had sufficient proofs of your friendship to have no right to doubt it. Still it seems to me so strange, that I at times ask myself how it comes that you, Red Blood, who hate humanity in a mass – you to whom nothing is respectable or sacred – feel for me a friendship which rises to the most complete abnegation and the most utter weakness. That appears to me so extraordinary, that I would give much to hold the solution of the problem."
"You are an ass, John!" the bandit replied in a mocking tone. "What is the use of telling you why I love you? You would not understand me. Suffice it for you to know that it is so. Do you believe me, then, a perfect ferocious brute, incapable of generous instincts?"
"I do not say that."
"You think it, which comes to the same thing. But it is of no matter to me: I dispense you from gratitude; you may even hate me, and I should not care. I do not love you for yourself, but for myself. But suppose we talk of something else, if you are agreeable?"
"I wish nothing better, for I see that I should lose as much time in trying to draw a good reason from you as in washing a blackamoor white."
"Ta, ta, ta! You are an ass, I repeat. But let me alone; if a certain thing I am now scheming succeed, we shall soon bury El Buitre to bring John Stanley to life again."
The salteador quivered.
"May Heaven hear you!" he exclaimed involuntarily.
"You had better appeal to the other place if you wish to succeed," the bandit said with a grin; "but you trust to me. Soon, I hope, we shall so completely change our skins that fellows will be very clever who recognise us. Look ye, John: in, this world all that is needful is to take the ball on the bound and turn with the wind."
"I confess, my good fellow, that I do not understand a syllable of what you are saying to me."
"Eh! What do you want to understand for? You never were the worse off for leaving me to guide you. Two words are as good as a thousand. Before long we shall turn our coats, and change, not the trade we carry on so agreeably, but the name under which we do it, to assume one better sounding and more lofty. Look there!" he added, pointing sarcastically at his comrades. "What an imposing collection of honest fellows we shall restore to circulation under our auspices! Will it not be magnificent, after having so long plundered individuals, to become suddenly the defenders of a nation to the prejudice of the government?"
"Yes," El Buitre said thoughtfully, "I have always dreamed – "
"Of carrying on our trade on a grand scale, eh? You were right: there is nothing like doing things properly, if you wish to be held in estimation. Well, be at ease; I will procure that pleasure. At any rate, if luck desert you, you will have the advantage of being shot instead of being hanged or garotted, and that is a consolation."
"Yes," El Buitre said quickly; "in that way a man dies like a gentleman."
"And is not dishonoured, I allow. Ah! The filibusters of old were lucky fellows; they conquered empires, and handed down their names to posterity, the exploits of the hero easily causing the crimes of the bandit to be forgotten."
"Will you never be serious?"
"I am only too much so, on the contrary; for, as you see, although you did not confide in me, I am preparing you a place by the side of the Cortez, the Almagros, and Pizarros, whose glory has so long prevented you sleeping."
"You may jest, Red Blood," the salteador said with an accent of profound emotion; "but if, as I suppose, you appreciate my character at its true value, you know that I only seek one thing – to regenerate these unhappy races, whom a brutalising subjection has plunged during so many centuries into a degrading barbarism."
"You only wish for the welfare of humanity of course," the bandit said with an ironical laugh. "We should not be worthy sons of Uncle Sam, that land of liberty and theoretical philanthropy, did we not dream of the amelioration of society. That is the reason why, while biding our time, we have become of our private authority redressers of wrong, and gentlemen of the road – a charming trade, I may remark parenthetically, and which we carry on conscientiously."
"Go to the deuce, you inexplicable scamp!" the young man exclaimed in a passion. "Shall I never know how to speak or how to deal with you?"
"No," he replied seriously, "no, John, so long as you try to play at hide and seek with me, who know every thought of your heart. Cease to display these pretensions to honesty, which deceive nobody, not even yourself, and become frankly a bandit chief till you can be something else. When the moment has arrived it will be time to put on a cloak of hypocrisy, which will deceive the fools, and consolidate the position you have acquired."
At this moment the shriek of the owl was heard in the thickest part of the forest.
"What's that?" El Buitre asked, not sorry to break off a conversation which was taking a personal turn rather disagreeable to him.
"A signal given by a sentry," El Garrucholo answered; "a spy who doubtlessly brings us news. We are awaiting, as you know, the passing of certain travellers."
"I know it; but they are said to be well armed, and under good escort."
"All the better; they will defend themselves, and that will be a change."
"The truth is, that those we have stopped for some time past seemed to have agreed to let themselves be plundered without a murmur."
"If the information I have received be exact, that will not be the case with the present party."
The owl cry was heard a second time, but now much nearer.
"It is time," El Garrucholo observed.
The two chiefs then put on black velvet masks, and almost immediately a man appeared, led by two bandits. On entering the clearing this individual threw around a glance rather of astonishment than terror: nothing in his conduct showed that he had fallen into an ambuscade, for his face was calm, though rather pale, and his step was assured.
The bandits who escorted him led him before the two chiefs, who examined him attentively through the holes in their masks. El Buitre then addressed the bandits in Spanish.
"Where the deuce did you catch that scoundrel?" he said in a rough voice. "He has not an ochavo about him. Hang him, and let us have no more bother."
"Yes," the lieutenant observed, "he is only fit for that, as he was such an ass as to rush into the net prepared for more noble game."
"Permit me, excellency," one of the bandits said, bowing respectfully; "this man was not caught by us."
"How is he here, then?"
"Because, illustrious captain, he earnestly asked to be led into your excellency's presence, as he had matters of the utmost importance to impart to you."
"Ah!" the chief said, but added, "I know the fellow; he is, if I am not mistaken, the huésped of the mesón of San Juan."
The prisoner bowed in affirmation.
It was really the worthy Saccaplata himself. After sending off his criado, and while Don Cornelio was with the colonel, the host thought that nobody could do one's business so well as one's self; and as he was probably anxious that it should succeed, he had started off after the peon, whom he had no difficulty in catching up, for the poor fellow was not at all anxious to execute the commission his master had intrusted to him. Saccaplata sent him back to the mesón; and, while the peon returned in delight, had himself attempted the adventure.
"Indeed!" the lieutenant remarked. "Does Señor Saccaplata wish to enter into business relations with us? That would be an excellent idea."
"I do not say no, honourable caballero," the landlord replied in a honeyed voice. "Business is very bad at this moment, and it is certain that a little extra profit, honestly come by, would be acceptable; but, for the present, I only desire – "
"To the point," El Buitre suddenly interrupted him; "we have no time to lose in silly remarks."
The landlord understood that he must be brief, if he did not wish to bring down certain unpleasantnesses on himself.
"The fact is this," he said: "I have in my house, at the present moment, several rich travellers."
"We know it. What next?"
"Among them is the Señor Colonel – "
"Don Sebastian Guerrero, proceeding to Tepic with his daughter and four servants," the lieutenant interrupted him. "What next?"
"What next?" the landlord said, sadly discountenanced.
"Yes, what next?"
"That is all."
"What, you scoundrel! And you had the effrontery to venture among us, only to tell us a thing we knew as well as yourself?" El Garrucholo exclaimed.
"I thought I was doing you a service."
"You wished to be a spy on us."
"I!"
"Of course. Do you take us for fools like yourself, you wretch? But you shall remember this visit. The orejada" he added, turning to the two bandits, who had remained by the landlord's side.
"One moment," the captain said.
Saccaplata, fancying he should escape with the fright, grimaced a smile.