BANCROFT
LIBRARY
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THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
EDWARD PLUMMER ALSBURY
GUY RAYMOND
A STORY OF
THE TEXAS REVOLUTION
BY
EDWARD PLUMMER ALSBURY
HOUSTON, TEXAS:
STATE PRINTIKG Co., PRINTERS
1908
Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1908, by
EDWARD PLUMMER ALSBURY,
in the office of the Librarian of Congress,
at Washington, D. C.
i) "7 10 i
Ubnuy
THIS WORK
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
TO THE
DAUGHTERS OF THE REPUBLIC
OF TEXAS
PREFATORY REMARKS.
placing before (lie public a story of the revolution wliirb
ve to Tex;is a position among the nations of the earth, the ;mlhor
not i ) roscii 1 ol incidents lliat necessarily call for particular nten-
of lenders, bui Inus tried to delineate the characters of the men
the rank and file, whose spirit of adventure, whose hardihood
endurance, made possible the ultimate independence of the
ublic. Criticism is expected; for the bounds thrown around the
er-day novelist have been ruthlessly disregarded in many particu-
But as no favors have been asked at the hands of publishers,
story has been launched upon the sea of literature on its merits,
the hope that an indulgent reading public will be more charitable
exacting critics and professional reviewers.
GUY RAYMOND
A STORT OF THE
TEXAS REVOLUTION
CHAPTER I.
A lovely grove. Tall, stately trees with commingling branches
'orming light and darker shadows on the half sodded,, half leafy
carpet made brilliant by tiny patches formed by the trembling sun-
light, that struggled through the verdant canopy, as the stirring
leaves yielded to the morning breeze. A gentle slope stretched to
denser shades and formed the margin of a running brook, whose
gurgles mingled with the music of the wood. The cliff-like bank,
which marked its further edge, rose boldly, studded with pointed
rock, with here and there a boulder overhanging the limpid current.
\ winding path, but dimly marked, traced its way to the stream
\\here, on Hie further edge, a miniature cataract fell, with pattering
noise, into a basin cut by human hands from the level surface of the
limestone ledge. From the basin, lashed to bubbles by the fall, the
parent water escaped, through artificial conduits, to the brook,
fitting scene for artist's pencil or for poet's pen to add to the
th of art or legendary lore. A handsome youth, reclining easily
the ground, watched the little waterfall. There was no mistaking
the admiration which so plainly marked his expressive features as
he gazed upon the pretty picture. The rude mallet and the chisel,
ill white with lime from the soft rock and lying near, were the
-tale instruments of his recent work ; and he noted, in full enjoy-
t, the effect of the new direction his hands had given to the
me of the cascade, through the bubbling basin and the converging
lies I hat poured a single stream into the eddying waters at his
I. A bright smile lighted up his handsome, boyish face as he
ed from the contemplation to look up the paihwav, and he said
il.ly:
"I'll bring mother down to see it this afternoon."
8 GUY RAYMOND.
He rose from the ground and took from its position a cocked
rille which I UK I been leaning against a tree close at hand. In stature
he looked lo he six feel ; his age ahoni, eighteen, and as he bent his
head and lowered the hammer of the piece, light, wavy locks fell
a cheek and temple fair but rosy and brown from health and
exposure. KVsliug his rifle on the ground he looked inquiringly
a round as if in search of some object that was missing, then gave a
loud whistle, which brought a dog bounding from the upper end of
flu 1 gro\e.
k 'Wha| have you been hunting, Eolla? I've finished my work,
except some extra touches which I will put off 'til another day. Come,
old hoy ! Lei's see if we can find a. squirrel to take home. Hie on, sir!"
Eolla darted off in the direction taken by the youth, fully com-
prehending the command he had received. His master followed,
taking the way up stream. Soon the sharp barking Of -the dog
indicated that ho bad discovered something. He was making demon-
strations around Hie' root of a. gigantic pecan, now gazing intently
info Us branches, now looking towards the approaching youth as if
in mule appeal for him to hasten his steps.
"You are making a terrible fuss, Eolla! One would imagine you
bad ireed an elephant from your noise."
The dog whined in answer; then bristling bis back, growled and
barked furiously. The youth now began to look in earnest to find
out the real cause of this unusual display of Eolla's anger. He
walked around (be 1 ree and peered through the branches overhead.
Suddenly bo caught sight of two glaring balls, fully six inches apart,
that looked savagely down upon him from a fork of the tree, high
up. and concealed almost entirely by the foliage of a lateral limb.
"You have treed something bigger than a squirrel, my good Eolla.
.!u<( keep still until I find out what owns those shining yellow balls."
The report of the rifle rang through the grove, followed by
commotion among the branches and, an instant later, the unmistakable
form of a, grown panther struck the ground with a thud.
A few struggles and the beast was dead. Eolla, frightened al
first by the sudden descent of so formidable an antagonist, resumed
bis courage when assured that his master's shot had been effective.
The youth, having reloaded the rifle, bent over his game to examine
it or to determine the precision of his aim.
"Pretty good shot, Eolla! Eight between the eyes."
The high, rocky bank on the further side of the brook ]r,\(
scarcely echoed the rifle shot when the undergrowth, which crowned
its summit, was parted and the dark, stolid face of an Indian looked
<
at
BUT
al(
ho
Ki
GUY EAYMOISTD. 9
cautiously down into the grove and took in the last act of the scene
just described. With a grunt of surprise he drew back and was con-
cealed from view.
"Now, Eolla, we will leave this fellow here until I can get my
sharp hunting knife to take of! his hide. You, my boy, shall have a
choice piece of meat for your dinner. "
Eolla seemed delighted to be thus addressed, for he cut un-
numbered capers around the dead animal. His master turned to
leave, possibly with the intention to fetch his knife, when a shot
from the high bank again broke the quiet of the wood and the
youth staggered and fell across the body of the panther.
Poor, distressed Eolla, we leave you to whine in sorrow over your
len master, while we use the privilege of an author to take a
survey of a house, about four hundred yards from the waterfall,
along the winding path that led from the grove. Three cabin-like
houses, connected by passageways, built of upright poles secured in
~ie ground, the intervals plastered or daubed with mortar, and roofed
ith long reed-like grass, called "tule," stood in an opening bounded
y a mesquite chaparral on the wesi mid south ;m<l the timber of i!>o
Salado creek on the east. The buildings were of the Mexican type,
called by the natives "jacals," mul were constructed from materials
abounding in the country, ;m<l in ;i manner that necessitated the
smallest amount of labor in their preparation. The appearance of the
houses and the general surroundings, ihe new clearing, the absence
oJ: fences and outhouses, the wairon and old-style carriage, depending
iron the shade of an adjacent: oak for protection, all bespoke the
newness of the settlement, and the- m< HIM tain of work yet to be done
to constitute the plant of a successful farm or ranch.
On the morning mentioned in the opening o f the chapter, a woman
s; t in one of the rooms of the jacal, enjja^ed in sewing. At her feet, on
a bearskin rug, sat a girl about twelve yea is of a^e, her attention occu-
p ed by a book, the leaves of which she was slowly turning. The child
bore a marked resemblance to (he youth whom we found in the
adjacent grove, engrossed in admiration of the waterfall, beautified
by his own arlislie touches. The room was rather comforlahly fur-
nished for a frontier abode, although there was a lack of newness in
its appointments, that indicated quite a long service, and an appear-
ance lliat he-poke MII origin less remote from Anglo-Savon eivili/ai ion
than the hanks of the Salado. The woman, intent upon her work.
bore evident traces of sorrow, the calm expression of her count'enance
indicating Ihat willi grid', or perhaps disappointment, had also come,
nation. The face, though wan, was handsome; the brown hair
10
Grrz RAYMOND.
showing a f'w threads of white, as she bent low over her work, now
iiml then casting a glance at the little girl. A heavy sigh escaped
lin- occasionally. One of these attracted the attention of the child,
who. looking up from her book, asked:
"Mamma, what makes you sigh so?"
-Did I sigh, Stella?"
"You have sighed so often this morning."
"I suppose it is because I am here. I shall -never become co
tented in this wild country, and cannot see what could have possess
your father In banish himself and us from friends and acquaintances
'in undergo the dangers and hardships that seem to beset us on every
hand."
"Bui papa says thai, others are coining and we, being the first.
can choose the best land, and after a year or two we will be nicely
fixed/'
"Of cour>e you will side with your father/'
"lint <iuy says so, too."
"Your brother Guy is a perfect sage, I suppose. He should be
al school, but he will have no schooling now, after this move."
"Guy studies, mamma. Papa says Guy knew more at fifteen than
he did at twenty. 1 see him studying every night. He talks to me,
about what he reads and I learn lots of things that way/'
"What, 1 1 ray, have you learned lately?"
k '()h. plenty! The distance to the sun, and how many satellites
Jupiter has. and that Mercury and Venus are nearer to the sun than
the earth, and how to find the north star, and who invented the first
telescope and "
"Ih- has been only instructing you in astronomy, then."
%> .\O: he told me plenty more, about the air being made up
oxygen and hydrogen, and that oxygen keeps us alive, and and I
can't remember all he told me. He is reading a book that he said
you would object to, but papa told him he could, as it was about the
best book in our house."
"If your Father said that I am certain it is not the Bible."
"No", it isn't. Guy called it the 'Age of Eeason/ "
"Where is your brother?"
"Don't you remember? He went down to the spring that
found coming out of the high bank. He says he is going to in
it the prettiest thing in Texas."
"Poor boy ; I suppose he must have some diversion."
"He says he has plenty to amuse him. IFe likes to go out in
woods by himself, with just Kolla along. Sometimes he goes without
GUY RAYMOND. 1 1
his gun, and papa told him he ought not to; hut he thinks there isn't
a hit of danger. He says that you and I must go down to sec ihe
spring when he gets through fixing it. We must go, mamma, just'
to please him."
"There is your father coming, and you do not know your lesson."
"I almost know it, and have yet until twelve to study."
Paul Raymond had moved to the Salado, from San Felipe de
Austin, whore he had first settled in the colony of the Empresario,
having sought an asylum from disappointment, caused by the dissi-
pation of a large property in Mississippi, in the wilds of Texas, who^o
territory was now attracting the notice of the more adventurous
spirits, in the Southern States, and offering a field for speculation
to men of ruined fortunes and blasted hopes. On an exiended scout,
a year ho fore, lie had seen the spot on the Salado, where he was now
)catod, and determined to move from the malarial hanks of the
razos to the high and healthy plateaus of Bexar. It was a hold
>p, by a hold spirit. For in those days it was hazardous for an
mericaii to live in a place so isolated as was his new home. Indian
utility and Mexican jealousy wore alike to he feared; hut despile
10 advice and .warning .from friends, and Austin himself, he made
movement. In the State he had left, he had been an in fluent ial
tizen, a lawyer, and a man of education. He had represented the
mthern counties in the Senate, and the laws of the State bore the
ipress of his legislative ability.
A wife, 'son and daughter composed his family, and these, with
Irishman, employed to be jack of all trades, were the only beings
the settlement. The children, Guy and Stella, had been taught
a private tutor, but since coming to Texas the father and mother
id assumed the duties of the teacher. They were far advanced for
jir ages, both having apt minds and inclinations to study.. This
especially true of Guy Raymond, who was well read and con-
it with 1 Horary subjects that are familiar to few minds not
ssessing the advantage of maturity. His mother often called him
dreamer, but his father, whose skepticism he inherited, pronounced
already a thinker.
"Where is Guy?" asked the father, as he entered the house.
"He is off with Rolla, engaged in some project about the new
'ing he said he had found," replied his wife.
"He worked on if. some yesterday; but as it was Sunday, he would
tell you of it. lie will make a nice job of it, I'll bet. Guy does
vtlihig well."
''Working on Sunday is one result of your infidelity."
12 GUY RAYMOND.
"Such employment is not work. It's the purest amusement to
boy. Know your lesson, Stell'?"
"Very nearly, papa/'
"That's a good girl. I want you to study well and it will take one
argument from your mother against our move to Texas."
"There is a shot! Did Guy take his rifle?"
"Yes, papa. I saw him get it."
"He has shot a squirrel, I suppose. I heard Holla's bark a minute
before/'
"Did your Irishman come with you ?" asked his wife.
"No, he is splitting out the boards for the barn. He proposed to
sf:iy and let me take him his dinner."
"There is another shot, papa, I expect Guy lias killed another
squirrel."
"Doubtless, if he aimed at one, for he is a fine shot with a rifle/''
"He beat the Mexican shooting, the other day, and he told brother
he had never been beaten so badly before."
"How did Guy make out with his Spanish?"
"Very well, although brother said that the Mexican's pronuncia-
tion was so unlike the real Spanish lie had to gue-s at some of his
words."
"It is not to be wondered at; these Mexican half-breeds have a
dialect of their own."
"It is nearly noon," said Mrs. Raymond. "I wish Guy would
come in so that he will be ready for dinner. Stella, takte the small
bucket and get some drinking water. I presume your brother will
be here presently."
Stella took the bucket and having donned her bonnet went for
the water. Her destination was a little spring under the bank of
the creek, near at hand, to which a path led through the bushes oi
im'M[iiito. She tripped along with her bucket, casting side glances
toward the grove to see if she could catch a glimpse of her brother
Arriving at tho spring she scooped it out with her hands, and ther
waited for it to clear itself. This she repeated again and again, b}
way of amusement, taking no account of the flight of time. Finally
a strange shout, which seemed to come from the plateau above, causec
her to realize how long she had remained playing in the spring, am
(hat perhaps they were waiting for her return with the water. Shi
Tilled her bucket and started to ascend the steep bank, when sli<
hoard the report of fire arms, followed by demoniac yells from ih
direction of the house. Her first thought was "Indians !" Her next
concealment. Wifli a. In-art full of terror and apprehension for he
GUY EAYMOND. 13
parents' safety, the child crept cautiously through the thicket, to the
left -of the path, and setting down her bucket, stealthily proceeded
to a position whence she could view the open ground. The scene
completely overpowered her, and she fell moaning and sobbing, and
calling piteously for her father and mother.
CHAPTEE II.
ho had fallen across the body of the panther, was wounded
in the scalp by a shot from the opposite height. He was just re-
gaining consciousness when he heard the same yells from the house,
ich had so terrified his sister. He had not sufficiently regained
senses to comprehend the full meaning of the sounds, but he
ggled to a sitting posture, when he was caught from behind and
his arms securely pinioned. Two dirt}^-looking Indians confronted
him. One of them had secured his rifle, and both were making
signs and, apparently, talking about the slain animal. The youth
now began to realize his own danger, and that of his family. He
remembered the shouts which greeted his ears, on the return to con-
sciousness, and his fears multiplied when he saw smoke and flames
in a direction which told him, as plainly as language could express,
that the Indians had done their fiendish work in the home which con-
tained his all in life.
Oh! for freedom and his rifle. He would sell his life dearly and
avenge to some extent the cruel work of the savages. Dread suspense !
His mother! His little sister! What was their fate? Poor Kolla!
Even he was gone. Perhaps the poor dog had considered him to be
dead and had gone to mutely convey the news.
It would be difficult to depict in words the emotions that crowded
the breast of the prisoner in the space of the few moments succeeding
his recognition of the character of his captors. The latter now mo-
tioned him to move on, and before he had time to obey, one of them
seized his arm and pushed him along. They took him in the direction
of what was once his home. On passing the scene of his morning's
work he cast a sad look at the waterfall still pouring its ceaseless
stream into the basin. How different it sounded now! Then, its
music seemed like an harbinger of joy something to soothe him when
he would seek the fairy spot, to muse and speculate, to commune with
nature. Now, it was the sad requiem of his hopes.
The grove once cleared the opening disclosed the smoking remains
of the house, while to one side stood a dozen Indians, around a pile of
2-r
14 GUY EAYMOND.
plunder. If there had been any victims, they were not to be seen,
and a hope succeeded that his people had escaped. Thus encouraged,
he recovered his composure, and was now satisfied that Eolla had
gone with the family. The Indians had already secured the horses
belonging to his father, and proceeded to pack them with sundry
articles from the pile. After he had been inspected by the whole
party he was placed in the custody of a tall, raw-boned Indian, who
ordered him, by signs and several unintelligible sounds, to go with
him. Guy obeyed, but found it to be difficult to keep up with his guard.
They soon crossed the little brook, near where it emptied in the
Salado, and ascended the bank on the further side to the high ground
constituting the forks of the two runs. About a half-mile further on
they reached the camp of the Indians, which had been left in charge
of two warriors and two squaws. Near a small fire sat the two latter.
one old and wrinkled, the other young and just about grown. To
this point the tall Indian directed his steps with his prisoner. The
two women arose from their squatting positions and began, in their
gutteral monotones, an evident discussion of the events of the morn-
ing. They devoured Guy with their eyes, pulling at his coat and
going through his pockets. The old one appropriated his knife and
two small keys on a ring. One of the latter belonged to his trunk, the
other to the little box in which were kept those treasures, odds and
ends, valuable to a boy, and little mementoes of the happier days spent
in the place of his nativity The younger squaw claimed his handker-
chief, which she held up before her for inspection, and then amused
herself by picking at the red embroidered letters in one corner, which
spelled his name. He thought of the little hands which had worked
those letters her first attempt and wondered where they then were.
The response was the scene of desolation across the creek the smould-
ering ruin, the yelling savages and the most agonizing feature of
the cruel tragedy the cloud of uncertainty that veiled the fate of
his dear ones. Dejected, crushed by the weight of his reflections, hg
sank in tears at the foot of a tree under which he had been halted,
and bowed his head upon his knees. The wound in his scalp pained
him exceedingly; the clotted blood had hardened in his hair and
produced irritation. His bowed head disclosed the cruel wound much
exaggerated by the mass of coagulated blood, and the crimson stains
that marked his neck and discolored his clothing.
A hand upon his head interrupted his reflections, and, starting
from his painful reverie, he beheld the young squaw bending over
him. She had brought a horn full of water from the creek, and wet-
ting the handkerchief she indicated that she desired to wash his
GUY KAYMOND. 15
wound. He could only submit, and the girl proceeded to wet his
head, while he bent forward to allow her treatment without incurring
a wetting. By degrees she removed the traces of blood and, closing
the wound, tied the handkerchief over it. He made signs to her to
loosen his bound arms, but she replied with impatient motions in
the negative. The older woman and the men had disappeared during
the time while Guy had his head bowed upon his knees. He had only
a squaw to contend with, but his arms were securely tied, and the
squaw had weapons at hand and knew how to use them. The noise
f approaching Indians indicated the coming of the fiends with their
kinder, and perhaps with the crudest of intentions towards their
risoner.
Guy's active mind had already been involved in speculation as
his fate, and it was not without 'apprehension that his ear caught
e sounds. The squaw suddenly changed her position and demeanor,
he sprang from a seat and, resuming her rifle, stood facing her
arge, as if she were closely guarding him. Guy thought he read in
is a fear lest her recent ministrations might be discovered by her
eople To avoid suspicion that she had betrayed the weakness of
mpathy, she had assumed a vigilant attitude. The party filed into
mp, passing near their captive, one of them rudely snatching the
andkerchief from his head and dashing it in his face. A discussion
h .hen followed, apparently about something of great importance. The
11 Indian was especially demonstrative in his gestures, and loud in
is talk, appearing to wholly dissent from the views of the others.
Finally the council came to an end. With grunts and yells they
parated to seek their ponies which, securely hoppled, were grazing
near. The animals were brought in, the packs adjusted, and the band
moved off one after another, except the two squaws, the tall Indian
and another of low stature, who appeared to be a half-breed, as his
skin was brighter, resembling the lower type of Mexicans. These
were also making preparations to leave. A pony was produced for
the prisoner; his arms were unbound and he was directed to mount.
After securing his feet with a hopple, passed under the horse, the
party started off, the tall Indian taking the lead, the others following,
leading the prisoner's animal, the two stolen horses packed with the
booty bringing up the rear. The wild country grew wilder as the
parly moved on their pathless way, along the timber of the creek,
pointing to the distant hills whose blue summits piled up, tier upon
li'-r, blended in one dark belt beneath the bright horizon. The young
prisoner's arms were sore, his wound was throbbing, but the greatest
>ain was in his heart, which was crushed under the weight of the
tainty hanging over the fate of father, mother and sister.
pain
16 GUY EAYMOND.
The morning had been so happily spent at the waterfall in an
occupation so congenial to his nature; in the maturing of an artistic
conception, planned weeks before to give a pleasant surprise to his
family. There could be no overruling Providence in the wreck of
so many hopes.
The Indian ponies were travelers, and good progress was made
by a uniform,, ambling gait, which they were not. allowed to break.
The timber of the creek had long been left to the right and the sun
was nearly touching the western hills when the party entered the
outskirts of a dense cedar brake, which extended up a canon, formed
by the first well-determined hills of the chain they had been approach-
ing. The dry bed of a run that drained the canon and its tributaries
furnished the passway through the dense growth. The sure-footed
ponies, accustomed to the rough courses of Indian travel, made good
headway over the rocky, broken surface; but the pack horses fre-
quently stumbled and had to be urged forward At length a small
canon, to the left, disclosed a miniature lake with rocky margin and
enclosed by a wall of cedars. To this the guide directed his course
and, in a few moments, halted the sad procession at its edge. The
savages at once dismounted and began preparations to camp. Guy
was released from his pony, stiff and sore from his long ride without
a saddle, and was forced to gather fuel under the surveillance of one
of the Indians. Before dark the horses had been placed to graze and
the packs disposed upon the ground. By the aid of punk and steel
a, fire had been started, and was crackling its flames through the dry
twigs and branches, lavishly supplied from the adjacent thicket. The
picture was wild and interesting. The placid surface of the water
reflected the light green of the cedars, whose pointed tops surmounted
each other in regular gradations, as their positions marked an increas-
ing altitude on the side of the gorge. The column of smoke rose
thick and blue, settling lazily overhead, then floating slowly back,
enveloped the treetops in long, thin stretches, then assumed fantastic
shapes as it cleared the foliage. Below, along the narrow space,
where the water encroached upon the timber, on either side, grew a
species of rank mountain grass, and here the Indians disposed them-
selves to the abandon of the camp. Rations of jerked beef had
supplied the necessities of the evening meal, to which the prisoner
had been invited, but of which he had no inclination to partake.
Fortunately for him, he was allowed to possess himself of a blanket,
one stolen from his own home, and upon this he stretched his tired
limbs. Darkness had settled over the hills a long time before he was
wooed by the wiles of slumber. His rest was fitful and he relapsed
GUY EAYMOND. 17
into a dreamy stupor, while contemplating the grim form of the
tall Indian as he squatted by the fire, with perfect immobility of
features, except when casting a glance, from time to time, to become
reassured of his prisoner's presence. It was nearly daylight when he
awoke, and his first realization was the contact of a warm body with
his back and shoulders. Feeling of the object he discovered it to be
a dog, and the low, familiar whine, responsive to his touch, proved
it to be Eolla. Guy's satisfaction was intense. He hugged and
caressed the faithful dog, while his heart was full of emotions He
whispered :
i"Dear Eolla! Oh Eolla! Where is- father and mother and little
ster? Oh! If you could only talk. You must have been with
them since you left me in the grove. How can I be glad to see you,
dear old dosr, since your coming causes me to doubt, still more, their
safety ? w
The dog nestled closer to his master and expressed, in his mute
ay, his unfeigned sympathy.
The captive boy no longer felt that complete desertion he experi-
iced the evening before. One sympathetic heart in the camp beat
>r him, and although it pulsated in the body of a dog, it possessed
merit of fidelity.
The bright July sun had mounted well up above the hilltops
before the Indians bestirred themselves and, from their slow move-
lents, it was apparent that no speedy departure from their camp
is contemplated. The appearance of Eolla excited their surprise,
id they had much to say in their unintelligible talk concerning
new arrival. Their close inspection of Eolla elicited a deep
)wl and a movement to a position still nearer his master who,
iring that such defiance might lead to his cruel usage, commanded
to be silent. No violence, however, was offered to the faithful
cute, and Guy experienced a feeling of relief as he saw the larger
ivage disappear down the canon, followed by the two squaws. The
lort Indian remained on guard and Guy was wishing that he could
)eak their language in order that he might sound the fellow, to learn
is probable fate. While still in this train of thought he was much
irprised at being accosted by the Indian in rather imperfect Mexican.
"Hablas Mejicana?" he inquired.
"Yes, I speak it pretty well/' Guy replied in the same language,
the same time eagerly assuming a sitting, from a recumbent,
'ition.
"What your name?"
"Guy," was the ready answer.
18 GUY KAYMOND.
"My name Pedro."
"Pedro is a Mexican name."
"Me Mexican not Indian."
"What are you doing with the Indians then?"
"Me so big when Indian kill my people. Me same as Indian*, but
my people Mexican."
This to Guy was encouraging information. Might not this fello^
have yet a little of the milk of human kindness left, despite his long
absence from civilization ? Then he remembered that Mexican treach-
ery was but one degree removed from savage barbarity, and the new-
born hope fell under the reflection.
"Pedro, do you kill people for nothing, just like the Indians ?"
"Indian make me kill plenty. Me same as Indian."
"Do the others speak any Mexican?"
"Muy poco, few words/'
"Will these people kill me?"
"Maybe so, if you not be Indian, like me."
"Pedro, will you be my friend and tell me what to do?"
"Me be friend, if you be Indian. You no want be killed and if
Indian want, he kill you. He not kill you when you be same as
Indian. All Indian want kill you, but Walumpta say no. He say,
maybe so, you be same as Indian. He say you pretty and shoot gun
well. Walumpta shoot you in head."
"Who is Walumpta?"
"Walumpta chief."
"Is he the Indian who has just left here with the squaws?"
"Yes, he Walumpta. He gone to make smoke on the mountain.
"He shot me, then saved my life," mused Guy.
"What tribe do you belong to, Pedro?"
'"Lipan all Lipans."
"And where are those who left the camp yesterday before we did? :
"Gone; steal horse on El Cibolo. Walumpta gone to big mountain.
He make smoke so other Indian come here, when they steal plenty
horse. Squaws go find plums. Plenty plums in big canon."
Guy looked in the direction of the mountain and recognized
as one he had often seen from the new home on the Salado. It w
the highest point for mile? around and he had been told that it w
called "Indian Lookout."
"Well, Pedro, if I turn Indian, will you be my friend and
that my good dog j^ W ell treated ?"
"Pedro be your friend ; all Indian and squaw be friend too."
Guv would have asked him concerning the fate of his family, and
GUY EAYMOND. 19
the question rose to his lips., but it .merely trembled there for a
moment, while the great lump in his throat choked down all possibility
of its utterance. The tears fell from his eyes and dropped upon the
upturned face of .Holla, who looked, as if in wonder, at his master's
familiar talk with the barbarian. Guy began to discern the bare
possibility of escape in the assumption of a new nationality, and
resolved to feign an earnestness of purpose to that end that would
deceive even the cunning of an Indian. He reclined again on his
blanket, while he gave his new intention his profoundest thought.
While thus engaged he suddenly saw a smoke rise from the top
of Indian Lookout, and called Pedro's attention to it.
"Walumpta up there," said Pedro.
"And here comes the squaws/' said Guy, as the objects of his
rniark came in sight down the canon. Then, as if he thought it
st to make the announcement before "the return of any of the
ibsentees of the party, he said to his guard :
"Pedro, I want to be an Indian."
The words cost him an effort, but he had made a resolution.
Pedro manifested some, satisfaction at the announcement, and
rave Guy to understand that when Walumpta returned he would
lake known his deter mi nation, but that some test would be required
prove his sincerity of purpose.
"Chicha be glad," he added.
"Who is Chicha?"
"Chicha my squaw; look, she come."
The two squaws now approached, each carrying the plums they
iad been gathering. Pedro communicated with them, at which the
mnger one seemed to become interested, while the elder remained
ilent, merely casting an indifferent look in the direction of the
msonef.
The former, to still further prove her satisfaction, suddenly
>ssed over to Guy and stooping down opened the cloth containing
ler plums, and motioned to him to help himself from its contents,
[nstead of complying he fell back as if he had received an electric
lock, and covered his face with his hands. Eolla, not compre-
lending, bristled his back and growled in anger. Poor Guy! The
loth which held the plums was an apron, worn by his mother the
lay before.
20 GUY RAYMOND.
CHAPTER III.
Summer had ripened into Autumn. On the hills and in
valleys, chaparral and forest had put off the green and assumed
their gaudy foliage. Winter had come again and melted into Spring.
The birds sang as sweetly and the flowers bloomed as profusely as
in preceding seasons. The mellow sunlight cast pleasant shades
and picturesque shadows. Cooling waters laved the bold banks of
rivers and the mossy margins of rivulets. Nature transcendantly
beautiful smiled through every feature of her creation. The little
fall, on the Salado, still poured its crystal water into the bubbling
basin to find its way, in ceaseless current, to the stream below. The
grove, still beautiful in its garb of verdure, still stately in its giant
trunks, still resounding , with the music of the woods, had not,
perhaps, been trodden by human feet since the day when the young
dreamer had rested in admiration of his work planning future hours
of happiness beneath its umbrage; for was not there the rude mallet,
and there the rusty chisel, with blade just visible from out the
matted leaves? The winding path, scarce worn to plainness by the
unfortunate settlers, was now hidden by the fallen foliage. Here
and there a bleaching bone, and further on a grinning skull, bespoke
the feast of the wolves as they scattered the severed remains of the
dead panther in their fight over the prey. Out in the bright sunshine
in the opening where stood the home the grass was struggling
from out of the cinders, now only discernable by the black remains
of charred substances lying loosely above the weatherbeaten mass.
Is there nothing further to indicate the tragedy of the year before ?
Let us approach the old oak, whose shadow once fell across the
doorway of the apartment where Stella and her mother sat 'on that
fatal day. Yes, those two mounds speak eloquently, and we, who
know of the sad occurrence, would be at no loss to guess who lay
beneath, even if those rough stakes did not bear the initials of t'he
dead. Down there, leading to the little spring, is still the path
along which Stella tripped for water, while she looked in vain for
the appearance of her brother, who lay, all unconscious, across the
carcass of his victim. Perchance we could find the cup and bucket
which the frightened child had abandoned, ere she surveyed
opening filled with howling savages.
But why linger in this devoted spot, and court the melancholy
which its reminiscences engender? Other scenes demand our atten-
tion, through which we will follow the fortunes of Guy Raymond,
f.nf] leave to the future to unravel the fate of his sister.
:Kt;i
7
Olv
wan
I
GUY RAYMOND. 21
Picture a range of hills, shaggy with alternate growth and crag,
timbered or bald as the chances of flood or eruption had denuded
of soil the rising steppes, or left it to support the stunted thicket
in its precarious tenure above the mass of limestone. Extending
west by south for an hundred and fifty miles or more, this range
was flanked by pretentious spurs thrown off diagonally to the north-
east with intervals of miles of level or undulating surface of open
country, through which coursed, ever and anon, a stream or run.
seeking its way to the Colorado or to reinforce one of that river's
tributaries. These runs were fringed with the inevitable lines of
timber, giving variety to the prospect and shelter to the timid herds,
descending from the hills to graze, or slack their thirst at some
favorite waterhole. Through these wild valleys roamed the buffalo,
the mustang, the deer and the antelope, hunted by the Indians, not
wantonly, but to satisfy the necessities for food and; raiment.
It was to one of the most southern of these spurs that Walumpta
guided the party which held Guy a prisoner; it was here we
left them encamped while the signal smoke was rising from Indian
>kout to attract the attention of the raiding band.
The two parties having formed a junction on the afternoon of
at day, they took the trail leading east by north, along the range,
to the headquarters of their tribe "on the distant San Saba. Across
the projecting spurs and through intervening lowlands the party
pursued its course without incident save an occasional dash after a
herd of buffalo, the shooting of a deer, or the stampede of a drove
of mustangs. Despite his load of sorrow, the bold riding of the
Indians, the excitement of the chase, the grand, wild scenery and
the novelty of the situation in which, by a most sudden transition,
he found himself, so engrossed the mind of the prisoner as to detract
much from his mental depression.
# * # #
It was one of those days when the temperature attains that
equipoise, between the extremes, winch is to be found in the altitudes
of the highlands, and which makes this world seem a paradise by
reason of the invigorating effect of the atmosphere when inhaled by
healthy lungs and expanding chest. From the top of the ridge, con-
st'tnting the northern extremity of the range, hitherto described,
could be seen the timber of the Colorado joining that of the Red
Fork. To the west was a small chain of hills extending so far north
as to touch the picturesque groves of Lipan and Kickapoo springs,
while to the southwest a vast plane stretched away in the direction
22 GUY EAYMOND.
of Devil's River and the Pecos. Below, nestled in a mountain valley,
through which coursed the San Saba, was an Indian village, built
upon the pricipitous banks of that stream. To the casual observer
it would have been difficult to locate any approach from the outer
world to this nest of the Indians, so completely was it hedged in by
its abrupt and rugged surroundings. Few individuals could be seen
about the village, other than an occasional passer from one lodge to
another, or a group of youngsters practicing with bow and arrow at
a target on the opposite bank of the river. A peep into the gorge-
like bed of the latter would have disclosed several of the Indian women
engaged in washing pounding with sticks articles of clothing lying
on the smooth flags that abounded in the bed proper. At the upper
end of the valley a herd of ponies was slowly moving towards the foot of
the hills, the animals cropping grass as they went. Over the hills to the
east was a narrow trail pursuing a devious course towards the settle-
ment. It was little better than a cattle track, for the lazy bucks of
the tribe were too indolent to fell a tree, clear a thicket or remove
a stone to secure the conveniences of a direct path. Along this trail
two horsemen were approaching the valley and both were, apparently,
Indians. The one in the rear bore behind him the carcass of a deer,
from which the warm blood still dripped, and which seemed to
demand his attention, between the snatches of a nasal monotone that
might have been intended for an air, to keep it from slipping to one
side or the other. The first horseman, upon a closer scrutiny, would
have disclosed features decidedly non-Indian and his complexion,
though exceedingly browned, looked most suspiciously Saxon. He
wns dressed in Indian costume even to moccasins. A jaunty cap,
made of some pretty fur, protected his head. Unlike his companion,
he rode upon a handsome Mexican saddle. The two had reached
nearly the highest point in the hills when he who carried the deer
exclaimed, in Mexican :
"Caramba!"
"What is the matter, Pedro?" asked the other in the same
language.
"Can't you see ? Deer fall off again."
"I'll help you put it up again."
"Next time you kill deer, you pack him. You 'fraid dirty y
fine saddle."
"Come! Pedro, cease your growling. You know you offered to
pack it, and now you are complaining. It is just like you Indians.
When I used to play with little white children, we called the one
'Indian giver' who would give a thing and be sorry for it afterwards."
...
GUY* RAYMOND. 23
"Pedro is no Indian, but Indian steal me and make me Lipan.
Chicha my squaw now and Pedro always be Indian."
"If you made one change to Indian, you certainly can make
another back to Mexican."
"Peuede ser but Pedro Afraid to try. Lipan and Mexican fight
so much fight all the time."
"The more reason you should side with your people. You were
as savage as the rest the last fight we had with the Mexicans."
"Es verdad but you, you killed six more than Indian kill. You
get fine saddle and fine name ; Indian call you 'el bravo/ ".
"True, too, but I had to prove my Indianship, and besides I
wanted a good saddle. More than that I was not fighting my own
people^ but a merciless race who never spare an American prisoner."
"Then, Senor Bravo, Mexican is worse than Indian and Pedro
jtter stay with Chicha."
"Take her with you."
"Will Laoni go with you?"
"Talk not of her, Pedro. She is not my squaw, and can never be.
le. I owe her my life; yet
"Walumpta say Laoni must be squaw for El Bravo, and Laoni
has eyes only 'for you."
"She will forget me. She only feels an interest in me from the
fact that she kept me from being burnt alive."
"If ten squaw keep Pedro from burning, Pedro take all ten.
Pedro no like fire."
"If that were the penalty, in my case, for living, I'd take fire,
first, last and all the time," thought Guy.
"Come, Senor Bravo, this squaw talk make us forget about deer."
"Ta'ke hold then; now, up with it. I think it will stay this time."
The deer secured, the horsemen commenced the descent into tho
valley. Pedro took up his monotonous refrain, while his campnnion
rode in silence. Peaching the edge of the village, they turned to the
right and directed their way to the upper portion, where, in the door
of a lodge, stood the slight figure of an Indian girl. She was fon-
dling a dog, who would stand on his hind legs and place his paws
on her shoulders, while his head was being stroked. At sight of the
horsemen the dog ran quickly to meet them and almost leaped to
the saddle of the first, in his demonstrations of delight.
"Ah, ha, Mr. Eolla ! I stole a march on you this morning. Where
were you straying, sir?"
"What is El Bravo saying to the dog?" asked the girl, in the
Lipan dialect.
24 GUY KAYMOND.
"Laoni is not jealous of the dog," said Guy.
"Not jealous, but Laoni does not like the words."
"They are the words of my mother-tongue."
"You speak the Lipan why speak any other ?"
"I spoke them to Eolla ; they are the words I spoke to him, like to
a friend, before I ever saw Laoni."
"You have known him longer and like him better."
"Have you nothing better to be jealous of than a dog? Laoni
knows that since the clay she saved me from the fire I would risk
my life for her. Because of her I slew the enemies of her people
and earned the name of Bravo. Her good act saved these strong arms
for service, and I have used them to repay the debt I owe her. If a
buffalo falls or a deer drops at the sound of my rifle, straightway it
is hers. Here, Pedro, undo the buck. See, Laoni, here is my offering
of today. It is another grain of sand to make up the mountain I
owe you."
"Laoni wants not a deer, nor a buffalo, nor a prairie full of them,
as pay for what came from her heart. Your living body is her reward,
and she asks no more than to see her Bravo happy in the strength
of his manhood, and to receive his kind words."
"Walumpta has treated me like a son, and Laoni is my sister."
"If Walumpta make you his son, it was for Laoni's sake. Laoni's
love is not the love of a sister. A sister's love can fail, but Laoni's,
never!"
"Pedro has hung the buck to the tree without help," said Guy,
impatiently.
"And will skin it without help, if you and Laoni stand there
jowering and making long faces," said Pedro, using the language of
his adoption more fluently than the Mexican.
"Call Chicha, or the Muja, to help. It is enough to kill a deer,
without having to skin it."
"I'll call both and make them finish it, for it is more work to
pack one deer a mile than to kill many."
Laoni retired into the lodge, while Guy walked away in a moody
state of mind. The latter's domicile was unlike any other in the
village. With Pedro's help, he had constructed it more on the plan
of a Mexican jacal, except the roof, which, in lieu of tule, was
covered with buffalo skins tightly stretched and well secured. The
Indians had fully intended to sacrifice their young prisoner, on their
arrival at the San Saba. His acquaintance with the Spanish language,
as it happened, was the remote cause of his preservation from a
painful death. It interested Pedro, who yet had a tender place in
GUY EAYMOND. 25
his heart for the old tongue, and through him the chief became
prepared to yield to the pressure of potent influences. Walumpta
was the chief of one faction of his tribe, which was divided on some
questions, reaching, however, merely local considerations, as in all
extra tribal policy and diplomacy the Lipans were united. The chief
had saved the prisoner's life when captured, but promised "to deliver
him up to the torch on their return to the village. While half
regretting his promise, Walumpta did not like to disappoint his fol-
lowers, but deferred the execution, from time to time, until weeks
had passed. Pedro had made good use of this time by contriving
to throw the young white man frequently into the company of the
prepossessing daughter of the chief. The latter became interested
in the story of the prisoner, in his desire to be adopted by the tribe,
and in Pedro's praises of his prowess and marksmanship, which he
held up to his attentive auditor as fitting accomplishments of one
who was the impersonation of manly grace and beauty. Laoni's desire
to listen generated into a wish to visit and speak with the unfortunate.
The Indian girl had a woman's heart, which either prompted her to
a noble resolve or caused her to succumb to the attractions of the ideal
created by Pedro's recitals.
Pedro had posted Guy as to the murderous intentions of the
Indians, and outlined his policy to defeat their purpose. The terrible
extremity in which he found himself must be an extenuating circum-
stance, if Guy Eaymond encouraged the rising interest which Laoni
manifested, by repeating to her in their interviews certain telling
sentences in the dialect learned from Pedro.
Finally, by the advice of Laoni, Guy sent a formal request to
the chief that he be permitted to become a member of the tribe,
promising, if his request were granted, to faithfully defend the people
of his adoption against all enemies and to conform with the rules and
customs established by and common to the Lipans. Laoni lent her
influence to the petition, and Walumpta called a council of the
Indians to consider the matter. The meeting was a stormy one, for
the burning of the white man was to be a jollification extraordinary,
and the majority were opposed to entertaining the petition.
At this juncture the daughter of the chief, roused to the extreme
of interest, entered the circle of the squatting warriors and held out
her hand for silence. Her mien was majestic; her manner pregnant
with simple enthusiasm. The wondering council, made mute by^the
movement, interchanged expressive grunts and then silently awaited
her speech. With heaving chest, expanding nostril and eyes dilated,
slio thus addressed them:
26 GUY RAYMOND.
"My fathers: Laoni is tne daughter of the tribe; the good of
her people has been to her as dear as her own life. She would give
her life for her people. It is said the white men were coming to
take the country of the Lipans. You know, my fathers, that our
land had been seized by the Mexicans who came from beyond the long
river, before the coming of the white man. Our warriors who have
been to the lower country tell us the Mexicans are fighting the white
men. Shall we help our enemies ? Every white scalp you take, every
drop of white blood you spill, is good work for our enemies. Our
fathers, long ago, had their hunting grounds from the Colorado to
the great water, when the strangers came from beyond the long
river and made their homes on the San Antonio. They told our
people of a Great Spirit who was a friend to the Mexican and who
would be a friend to the Indian. The Indians who listened and
went to worship their Great Spirit were made the slaves of the black
gowns. From sun to sun the Indian bent under the heavy stones to
build houses for their Great Spirit. To pay us they have robbed us
of our hunting grounds. The prisoner that you would burn has
never fought the Indians, and his people are the enemies of the
Mexican. Shall it be said that the Lipan is worse than the Mexican ?
The young white man is brave ; the Mexican is a coward. The pris-
oner is wise, for he already speaks the words of the Lipan ; he is good,
for after all the harm you have done him he asks to be one of our
tribe. My fathers, Laoni asks for his life. She asks you to make
him a brother ; and when the moon will throw the long shadows from
the mountain, let him fight with our warriors. The daughter of the
tribe, the child of Walumpta, will answer for his bravery."
Laoni's words produced the desired effect, and Guy was saved.
A few of the warriors shook their heads depreciatingly and some o:.
the squaws howled in their disappointment.
The test was made on the -first foray, when the Lipans, accom-
panied by Guy, attacked a train of Mexican carts under escort. His
fearless conduct and exquisite marksmanship, in the fight, gained
him the sobriquet of "El Bravo/' and confirmed him in the confidence
of his dusky comrades. It was a severe ordeal, but he was young,
and his ambition, with a conscious capability, made him impatient
to penetrate the future as it advanced to meet him on the rapid
wheels of time. Among his troubles there arose a crowning perplex-
ity. He was beloved by the young Laoni who, in the simplicity of
her nature, did not hesitate to make it known to him, or to keep
him in remembrance of it. He discovered that in her attributes,
which raised her far above the level of the Indians, and he en-
GUY RAYMOND. 27
deavored, as he progressed in the mastery of her dialect, to instill in
her mind the ideas and obligations of civilization.
How could she help loving him? The knowledge of her attach-
ment was a solace in his banishment, but he feared that when it
would reach its full fruition it must eventuate in her disappointment,
if not in more serious consequences. While consorting together fre-
quently he was cautious to not evoke allusion to her love, and so
shaped his words and planned his acts, as to fill, to the full, the
measure of her happiness, by his companionship, without raising the
reflection as to what it might all be tending.
CHAPTER IV.
A little distance, perhaps a quarter of a mile, above the Lipan
village, the water of the San Saba poured over a fall of several feet.
perpendicular descent was made with even, glass-like surface until
it reached a mass of broken rock at the base, through which, roaring
and leaping in foamy masses and whitened spray, it escaped to the
level bed below. A mile or so further on was the river's source where,
welling up from solid ledge rock, more than a dozen springs of sur-
passing beauty united their waters to form the limpid stream. The
topography of the country indicated that these springs were fed
through one of nature's syphons, being merely a subterranean current
crossing through the rocky labyrinths underlying the plateaus beyond.
To the west, and close at hand, was the most elevated peak in the
contiguous hills, from whose side approached a canon, in a winding
direction, and ending at the gorge through which the river coursed.
Its entrance had a weird, wild appearance to Guy, who had often
passed it, and had cast curious looks up the narrow opening. One
of the few prohibitory rules which he was directed to obey, when he
gave his fealty to the tribe, was, on no account, to visit that canon,
or to ascend the elevation beyond. This was not special as to the
new recruit, but bore equally on the Indians, except the chiefs and
certain older warriors, who were named as exceptions, and who con-
stituted their advisers. This prohibition naturally aroused the curi-
osity of our hero ; but as he attributed the regulation to some prepos-
terous Indian superstition, he did not think it worth while to run
the risk of its gratification.
But he was destined to learn, from other lips, enough to seriously
tempt him to venture on the exploration of the forbidden ground.
28 GUY RAYMOND.
One afternoon, shortly after the day when he and Pedro had brought
the deer into the village, Guy, accompanied by Rolla, was returning
down the river bank from a hunt in the hills, his rifle swung care-
lessly on his shoulders, his mind so absorbed by some train of thought
that he did not see Laoni, who was sitting on a rocky projection just
above the falls.
She called to him.
"Why, Laoni ! I did not see you."
"Your eyes are. for everything but Laoni."
"My thoughts were far away/'
"And El Bravo would like to be with his thoughts."
"You are right, Laoni. I was thinking of my little sister, about
whom I have often spoken to you. She may be living, and I often
hope she is. But it is almost foolish to hope. The day I was captured
she, with my father and mother, must have been killed by your people."
"If they were killed, the warriors know it; they will tell El Bravo."
"I could not ask ; the words would die on my lips."
"They will tell Laoni."
. "I do not want to know it ; for if the slayers of my family were
to make themselves known to me "
"Would El Bravo fight?"
"I might do worse."
"If El Bravo's people were dead, the warriors would have scalped
them. They brought no scalps to the village/'
A shudder ran through Guy's frame at the thought and he grew
moody and silent.
"Is El Bravo sorry, that he will not speak?"
"I am sorry that you saved me from the fire. It would have been
better to let me burn."
"Has Laoni made El Bravo sorry?"
"You are not to blame, poor girl, for my captivity, or for any
sorrow that I may have. You have a good heart and I believe that
it strives to do right. If I had my way, you would not be long in
this valley."
"Where would Laoni go?"
"To my countrymen. There you could learn our language and
be taught the peaceful way of living. After you would learn our
customs, you could return to your people and lead them from the
bloody paths they now follow, into the broad road of peace and plenty.
Then would you have large villages, surrounded by fields of corn and
grain, with sheep and cattle and horses of your own raising; with
schools to teach the children how to read and write."
GUY EAYMOND. 29
*
"The warriors do not like to work; the prairie is full of buffalo
and deer, and the hills with turkeys. The prairie chicken and the
partridge in the valleys, the squirrel and the rabbit in the woods are
only waiting the coming of the huntsman. The water at our feet
p-ivcs them fish when they tire of the meat from the prairie and the
valley. Hero they are free as the mountain breeze; and before the
coming 1 of the strangers who have pushed the Indians back from the
south they were like the leaves of the trees, and the scalps of twelve
moons could be counted on the fingers."
"My poor Laoni cannot know the pleasures of a different life.
This little valley is your world. The scalping knife and the tomahawk
seem to you more useful than the hoe and the plow."
"Laoni believes the words of El Bravo. Laoni has not seen the
white people, and she cannot know if they are better than the Indians.
The Mexicans say the white men are bad, but the Mexicans come
wftli lies. They made our fathers work to build big houses for their
i Spirit. They came to this valley before the village was here,
when Walumpta was in his mother's arms. They made a great hole
in the side of the hill in the canon at the foot of the mountain, and
our fathers worked' for them. They took out loads of metal. They
brought their fighting men at last and tried to take our land. The
Li pans were strong and many. They told the Mexicans to go back
to their country. The Mexicans laughed at the Lipans, and before
the next sun went down their scalps were hanging from the belts of
orr warriors."
"What metal were the Moxicans taking from the hole in the
canon?" asked Guy.
She told him the Indian name, but he, not knowing the word in
her language for any metal except the one for iron, was in doubt as
to which of the precious ores had oxoitod the cupidity of the unfor-
tunates.
She, seeing his perplexity at not comprehending her meaning,
drew from her bosom a medal, and holding it up. said:
"This is the metal. This cnme out of the hole in the canon and
was made by one of the Mexicans. Walumpta's father got it from
ck of the man when ho took his scalp."
uy look fhe medal in hi* hand and mentally pronounced it pure
ilver. On one side v ived the. figure of the Virgin; on the
the monogram for "Aye Marin/' He knew there must be a
the mod from. If Laoni's words were true.
had probably discovered it and had worked it to some
(. In ilicir greed they had. doubtless, attempted to occupy the
Dry RAYMOND.
rnuiilrv in I'mv: had antagonized ihe Indians and got the worst o
it. The slaughter of so many in the canon had invested the plac<
\viili a species of dread for the superstitious Indians, and they hac
made a. law forbidding anyone lo visit it. tic concluded he would asl
(lie chief to suspend the rule in his case.
The girl watched him closely while these thoughts were rapidl;
passing through his mind.
'Ms the killing of so many Mexicans the reason that Walumpt;
(iocs nol: want any one lo go to the canon?' 7 he asked.
"No, mv Bravo. I listened while Walunipta and the old men wer
speaking. I learned the secret of the canon. I will tell it to E
Bravo, hut' lie must not lei it fall from his lips. If he tells it man;
Laonis could not save him from the fire or the rifle."
It cannot he a verv groat secret, for the Indians do not dig fo
silver."
"When the Mexicans were killed, the chiefs said no one shouh
go to the canon, so that in time the silver would he forgotten, am
strangers would not want the land of the Lipans. The Mexican
love silver more than they do their Great Spirit. Walumpta says th
marks on this piece of silver keep? away the had Spirits."
Guy was doubly interested now, and resolved to visit the canon a
any risk. He explained to her that the image on the medal repre
sen led the Mother of the Christian Gfod, and that the monogram 01
the reverse was calling on her name.
Laoni was much pleased at the explanation, and cast an unmis
takablc glance of admiration at her "Bravo" for this display o
erudition.
As night was approaching Guy gave a whistle for Eolla, who ha<
gone in pursuit of a rabbit. He came bounding from the bushes, am
the two arose for a. return to the village.
"Do white men wear the mother of their God on their breasts ?'
asked Laoni.
"Few white men have any love for her."
"Why not love her?"
"Some are too wicked; and a great many do not believe she wa
the mother of God."
"Because she was a spirit, and they could not see her?"
"No, she was a woman, just like you; and God was born, a littl
baby, just like the little one of Chicha's. The Christians say th
Great Spirit was his father."
"I thought the little baby was the Great Spirit, and now Kl Brav
says the Great Spirit was the father of the baby. Could the Grea
GUY EAYMOND. 31
Spirit be the father of himself? Could he live before he was born?"
"Laoni does not understand. There are said to be three Great
Spirits, and all three make one God. One is the father; one is the
son, and the other is is
"The uncle?" suggested the girl.
"No, you simple one. The other is a spirit related in some way
to the other two."
"That is funny/ 7 said Laoni. "And did the baby God grow to be
a man?"
"Yes, he lived to be a man. He was a workman, and helped his
father build houses."
"His father! The Great Spirit came down from Heaven to build
houses? Could the people see his father?"
"Laoni does not understand. It was not the Great Spirit; but
the husband of Mary, the mother of God, who was only a man whom
she took for a husband, after the baby God was born."
"Why did the Great Spirit make his son do work?"
"I suppose because he thought it was right, as he went about teach-
ing people to do right and be good. The people would not listen to
his wise words and only a few followed him. After three years of
teaching the people of his nation killed him by nailing his hands and
his feet to a tree."
"That is worse than Indians ! Lipans would not kill the son of
their Great Spirit."
"But the son of Mary had to die," explained Guy. "The Great
Spirit sent him to this world to be killed, just like he was, and some-
body had to do it."
"Then his father was glad of it, and the men who killed his son
were not bad for doing what they had to do."
"No, Laoni, God was angry; and he made darkness and lightning
come; the earth trembled, and all the people who had anything to do
with his death are said to be in torment, burning in a fire that never
dies out."
"Laoni does not want a Great Spirit like that. The Great Spirit
of the Indians will not burn his people for what he makes them do."
"It would not be easy to make you a Christian."
"Does El Bravo want Laoni to love a bad Great Spirit?"
"No, Laoni. He wants you to love and believe in one who is
good and just; in one who is above our weak human nature; who
flitters by unchanging laws this great and mysterious creation, and
who, if he takes note of actions here, wants all his people, Indians and
whites, to be good to each other. If he is a person, like Christians
GUY RAYMOND.
believe, this would please him. He would like to have the white men
love gold and silver less, and see the Indians throw away the scalping
knife and learn the ways of peace. In place of the shouts of the
raiders, you would hear the songs from the cornfield. You would
forget, in the bustle of the harvest, the revelry of the war dance."
"El Bravo speaks well. The heart of Laoni has panted for such
words, and they fall like honey from his lips. If our warriors could
learn your ways, happy days would come to our tribe, and this valley
would be fit for the lodge' of the Great Spirit himself."
CHAPTER V.
Gny, after leaving Laoni, turned towards his lodge. He passed
along the hovels of the braves, many of whom were squatting around
their doors, some smoking and others chatting, while the squaws were
here and there visibly engaged in several occupations. He heard his
sobriquet pronounced more than once as he went, and several times he
gave grunts of recognition in exchange for siinilar salutations! The
Indians looked upon him with a kind of awe. He had escaped from
the jaws of death, by little less than a miracle, and had stood all
tests to prove his bravery and loyalty. For a long time his steps had
been followed by spies when he would leave the valley, and his actions
noted to glean the first intimation of any attempt to escape. In no
instance had the Indians been able to find fault with his allegiance.
Satisfied with his loyalty, he had captivated his captors by his mild
dignity, his bravery and his fine presence.
The discovery that a silver mine was near at hand, and that it
had been the scene of a massacre years before, occupied Guy's thoughts
so completely that it was long- in vain that he courted slumber. When
be finally slept, dream visions of molten silver pouring from glowing
furnace would be dissipated by the warwhoop of the Lipan, as the
Indian brave closed in the death struggle with the avaricious Spaniard.
Then he dreamed that he was exploring the mine with a torch whose
light was reflected back by polished slabs of silver, leaning against
the sides of the excavation. He attempted to carry one of these
away and was bending under the weight of the treasure when he
encountered Walumpta at the opening. He hung his head before the
chiding presence of the chief, but raised his eyes on hearing the voice
of Laoni bewailing the fate that had taken E! Bravo to the mine. It
was a positive relief on awakening, to find himself in his bed, and that
he had been dreaming.
GUY RAYMOND. 33
The rays of morning wore struggling through the chinks in his
cabin wall as he arose, imref re-shed, from his bed of robes. The next
lodge to Guy's was Pedro's, and here lie look his meals, which never
varied from some kind of meat and the ]\lo.\ican tortilla. Few of
the Indians ever enjoyed the luxury of the latter article of food, but
Pedro, having inherited a fondness for the national cake, had made
sure that a knowledge of its preparation was one of the accomplish-
ments of the squaw of his choice.
When Guy made his appearance, Chidm was busy preparing the
morning meal, while the old woman thev called the k ''Mu;ja v was
tending (he infant half-breed and grumbling at Chieha's slothfulness.
''What makes ('Inch,! cook so many tortillas?" asked Guy, as he
noticed an unusual quantity of the cakes.
"Pedro goes with \Valumpta and the others/' responded ('India.
"Where are they going I-"' ho asked her, with apparent interest.
"Tar away on the Colorado, so Pedro says/"
Guy became thoughtful for a moment.
1 Fo was about to question rhicha further, when Pedro made his
appearance, armed as for a raid. To his inquiring glance Pedro made
no reply, but beckoned him aside.
The two remained in conversation for some time, until inter-
rupted by the impatient calls of ('India, who declared that the grum-
bling of the Muja would run her out of the village. Rather than be
deserted Pedro repaired to the feast of venison and tortillas,
followed by Guy.
In discussing the merits of (''India's cookery none of the adjuncts
of the board, nor the board itself, were available, and first principles
assorted themselves in handling and preparing the food for mastica-
tion. Guy was' very silent during the meal and, so soon as it was
over, be lost no time in seeking Laoni. The girl was in her father's
lodge, attending to lhe simple duties claiming her daily attention.
The abode of the chief was constructed partly of rock, procured from
iver bed. where it' was to be found in large supply, and in every
shnpo and size. The apartment of Laoni was luxuriously furnished,
in Indian stylo, and boasted a carpet of skins ingenuously joined
her. In lieu of seats, bearskin rugs were disposed around the
. while the virgin couch consisted of hair encased in soft and
tindy dressed buffalo robe.
A.S Guy was an unceremonious visitor, he entered at once, and
d the mistress of the room, whose countenance brightened, as
it, usuallv did, whenever El Bravo appeared. Laoni was, by no means,
an ordinary girl, even when contrasted with the average of her sex
34 GUY EAYMOND.
representing races advanced in civilization. She appeared to rise
above her surroundings and seemed conscious of her superiority. The
springs of her mind needed but the magic touch of demonstration
to cause them to send it bounding to complete appreciation. This
was true in all questions which appealed to heart and conscience, and
not involving principles based merely on the usages or culture of
civilization, or the dogmas of religion. Her features intelligent, her
head shapely and well poised, her figure rather slender, made up a
combination which lacked only advantages to bring her to the standard
of refinement. Guy's magnetism and teaching had attracted and in-
structed her until she had developed, in no inconsiderable degree, a
natural superiority to her surroundings.
She noted the cloud upon the brow of the youth and the earnest
glances which she cast rapidly and inquiringly to his countenance
were sufficiently intelligible to elicit an explanation. Guy remained
mute and thoughtful.
"Has El Bravo lost his voice? Has he no word for Laoni?"
"Call me no more El Bravo; I am a coward, a renegade, anything
but brave. I have lost the friendship of Walumpta. He has for-
gotten the arm which did him service, and he goes today to raid my
people, and would leave me to skulk in the village while the firebrand
and scalping knife are at work on the Colorado. Laoni, are my
words not true?"
"El Bravo speaks the truth. Walumpta goes to the Colorado. He
must listen to his braves. His voice is but little more than one in
the council. He would not harm your people, but the warriors do
not look upon them or upon you with the eyes of their chief and his
daughter. They are jealous of the white man, and many are not
pleased that El Bravo has not only won his name, but the love
Laoni."
"I expected the truth from your lips, and am not disappointed.
Honor forbids me to stay longer in this village, which is now become
the spring from which will pour out the waters of destruction on my
unhappy countrymen. Duty commands me to go, if not to assist,
least to warn them of danger."
"Would El Bravo leave the village when his people have not been
harmed? Is the raid of the few warriors enough to part him from
Laoni, who will be forgotten when the life of the Indian is put
aside?"
"I have not used false words to Laoni. I have been as open a-
she has been truthful. My duty is plain. If I am to be betrayed,
you know my resolution. The warriors are yet here, and if the bl<
GUY EAYMOND. 35
of my people must be spilled, let my 'scalp be the first from the
victims of the coming butchery."
"l)id Laoni save a life to betray it? When you were a prisoner
I pitied you. For pity I braved the anger of the council and took
from the lire whose smoke had already risen above the lo,
You taught me to love you by your words which became to my ears
as honey to my taste. For you I have found myself hating the acts
of 1 be' Indian. My body and my spirit have seemed only to move
and aci and think for you. If only pity saved your life, by what
while man's rule do you look for the mad love of the Indian girl to
betray it?"
"Forgive inc. Laoni. 1 did not mean to doubt you. I wished to
>how you how deiermined I am that the end of this raid shall not
iii id me here."
"El Bravo has said it. The words of Laoni cannot change him."
"I am glad you know me so well, and I honor you for this calm-
ness. Laoni, why cannot you fly with me? With my people you
will be more content than in the savage life of these hills. In me
you will always find a friend who will toil for you so long as life lasts/'
"Is Walmnpta dead? Must my father lose his child, that El
PHMVO may have a poor Indian girl to work for? Leave Laoni with
li;r people. If her heart only goes with the one she loved, he will
U (he freer for it. ( If Laoni is not forgotten, if she is worth El
Bravo's love, he will again seek her in these hills, where first she
pitied and then learned to love him."
(luv was much affected by the words of the j^irl. lie turned
aside with moistened eyes, and looked out upon the hills rising in
tiers to the east.
"Oh!" he thought. "What a bitter enp is mine. I would now
prefer this girl's treachery to her love. Yet, true hearts are so rare,
!! e very thought seems monstrous. I admire and am attached to her,
but how can I yield her the love for which she craves. It would
blight my future by chaining me (<> an Indian life, or weighting me
with the odium which the conventionalities of my race would place
upon such a union."
His thoughts were interrupted by the girl.
"Have Laoni's w r ords made El Bravo sad?"
i your words alone. I, too, have a heart which must beat for
those who love me; and the thought of leaving her who saved my
life must make nnhappv the hour which will separate us."
"Thinlc not of my words ihen, and let us laugh at parting. Laoni
would have her Bravo go away happy. He will sometimes think of
ill':
\v;iv
,,G Gry RAYMOND.
Iho village and of tlie Indian girl, who waits his coming. \Vhen the
sun will sink behind the hills Laoni will sit on the rock above the
falls and think of El Bravo, who used to sit beside her."
"Let us talk of something else," said Guy, "or you will make me
sad again. See, there go the raiders! Lnoni. the time is near v\
I must leave the village."
As Guy spoke a long file of Indians was winding up the pathway
leading east over the hills. It was the party which IVdro hml joined,
and whose destination w r as the cause of the sudden resolution to
escape from his enforced residence among the Lipnns. Wn!ump(-i
had opposed a raid upon the white sol-tiers on the lower Colorado, as
he had often assured Guy he would do, but he had been overruled
by a nearly unanimous vote of the council and had to yield to estab-
lished custom. He did not intend that the true destination of the
party should be made known to his young friend, and had diVvied
Laoni to deceive him. Guy's sudden appearance at her lodge and
direct charge as to the true purposes of the expedition had changed
her already wavering intention to mislead him.
Her devotion to El Bravo was supreme and her resolution was
taken not only to shield him in his plan to escape, but to assist- him
in preparations. Unselfish in her love, she w.as willing to lose his
presence to advance his happiness. The last raider had disappeared in
the hills, when Guy, turning to the girl, informed her that he must
go to prepare for his departure.
"When the sun casts no shadow, come to the springs," he s
"I will be there with my pom' and Holla, and go west around the
mountain."
"Loani will come," was her laconic reply.
Guy took his way to his cabin full of the interest inspired by
prospect of his trip, which ho was impressed must ho attended with
more or less danger. On reaching Pedro's lodp-e. Chicha and the
squaw were in a wrangle which had lasted since the niornin<_>; mvil.
"Have Chicha and the Muja nothing but cross words?" lie as
"Old squaw like to fuss," said Chicha. "She mad because P
took all the dried meat."
This was a disappointment, to Guy, who had do 1 ended on getting
a supply of cured venison from Chicha to serve for two or throe days'
rations. He determined, however, not to lot this dott-r him. but to
start at once and trust to chance for the wherewith to appease his
hunger.
"El Bravo must kill a deer today," said Chicha, "or we will h
nothing to eat."
Gkrx tt.vYMoxn. 3
"1 will go tlvis very morning," said Guy. "Have you any tortillas
to give me? 1 may be gone until the sun is low."
The squaw procured several of the desired cakes and Guy, taking
; In -in from her, went to his own abode. Here he gathered together
what articles were necessary for his trip., including his rifle and am-
munition, and then went out on the green for his pony. A half hour
he was in his saddle and, saying to Chicha that it might be
night before he returned, he galloped off up the valley, followed by
his faithful Tiolia. Just before reaching the falls he descended the
river bank and, erossing the stream, continued towards its source.
Arriving at- the canon loading to the commanding peak he turned
it and was soon lost in its turns. He experienced a species of
awe as the clatter of his pony's hoofs awoke the silence of the for-
bidden ground. I! is rapid pace brought him to the expanding area
of ihe let-minus of the whose irregular lines were bounded by
the mountain side as a base, with abrupt, rocky acclivities on the
north and poutb. At the latter point, tunneling a spur of the peak,
was the mine, the entrance looking darkly forbidding, half concealed
by the bushes and weeds, while the debris and refuse of the excava-
tion readied in a long line from its vicinity to a huge pile, occupying
the center of the space.
Dismounting, Guy was not long in gaining the entrance, and
found himself in a tunneled excavation, extending until the shadows
soncealed its furthest recesses. To the right was a shaft, into which
'red. without being nble to calculate its depth. Stooping to
p something to toss into the vortex, he raised a human skull,
ho throw from him in disgust. The hideous relic of humanity
ervod his purpose as it rolled into the shaft and went thumping its,
sides to the bottom. His eyes becoming accustomed to the gloom,
ad a bet lor view of ihe uneven bottom and jagged sides of the
ike arai'tment. In a search for specimens of ore he was not
lixe the visions of his dream, but contented himself with a few
fragments of rock, containing small particles of glistening metal,
apparontlv silver.
While in contemplation of his samples a slight noise caused him
to raise, his bond, when ho behold Laoni within a few feet of him.
"Kl Bravo is not at the springs, and eyes, that are not Laoni's.
saw him come into the canon/ 7
or is the sun overhead. What brings Laoni here?"
oes El Bravo ask? The metal so dear to the Mexican, so loved
by the white, man has won even "Kl HravoV heart, since ii lias made
forget bis hurry io leave these hills and brave the spies of (ho
CO I H ( -I
which
blUtJS
IK' hai
,,S (JlY \l\\ MO NT).
council. What brings Laoni here? More than the silver, tliat he
loves. Come, we must leave the canon, for it is known that you arc
here."
''Your story of the Spaniards that were killed at this mine mare
me wish to see it. We will go to the springs and then
"El Bravo will go. But we must not go to the springs no
Spie> will see us, and the council will know that we have been here.
(Jny, submitting to her guidance, followed until they reached the v
spot where he had left his pony. Here Laoni produced a buckskin
pouch filled with dried meat, and gave it to him, saying that she had
le;irncd from ('hicha that he had none. Much affected by Ibis addi-
iional kindness, he could not refrain from embracing bi> little less
than guardian angel, while conflicting emotions filled bis breast and
his eyes brimmed with tears of honest regret that he could not snatch
this faithful heart' from her environment and place it on the very
pinnacle of earthly content. Cuided by the girl, he followed to the
southeast angle of the level, where was disclosed a narrow trail, barely
visible, that wound up UK; rocky sleep among tall bushes, concealing
them effectually as they made the ascent. The sure-footed Indian
ponv clambered after them, and ere many minutes they gained the
brow of the elevation, and looked down upon the lower hills and
the stretch of valley beyond. The September temperature had not
changed the vernal appearance of the view. Not- a leaf had assumed
a single tinge prophetic of the autumn that was so near. To the left
a silver thread, lost here and there in the mass of emerald, marked
the course of the river as it wound round the valley where the smoke
of the village could be seen as it rose above the quaint babitatio
Here they rested while Guy took a survey of the distant pros
towards which he must' bend bis course, when he once quit his prese
locality and parted with the faithful girl at his side. The rugged
chain of hills was lost in the smoky hori/on to the southwest and
would separate him, in his flight, from the raiding Lipans who would
journey along its eastern foot 1 for some distance before they turned
their 'course to the Colorado.
"Does El Bravo know the trail that will lake him to his people?"
"Trails will not bother me. I have the mountains and the sun
for guides. My course will touch the foot of the range for three or
four days."
"See!" said the girl, pointing to the opposite side of the can
"Laoni did well to follow and lead you here."
(Juy looked through an opening in the hughes and beheld the well-
known form of I'onseca, an old Indian who belonged to the council of
or
GUY RAYMOND. 39
the tribe, and who possessed great influence in its deliberations. He
had voted for Guy's execution with the minority, and had never mani-
fested any real good-will for the white convert. His objeri was quite
plainly indicated by his actions, which appeared to be directed to the
discovery of some object in the vicinity of the mine.
"You are a brave girl, Laoni. Ponseca wants to catch me in
the mine. Your coming has saved my life or his."
"Where is Eolla? If he sees the dog, he will know the master is
o
near."
Guy gave a low whistle, then a little louder cull, and Eolla cam''
rushing from a direction opposite to the canon.
"Good Eolla! I might have known you had not remained to
betray me."
To avoid observation they moved further down the slope. Guy
busied himself with tightening the girth of his saddle and securing
to the latter the few traps necessary for his journey.
"Now, Laoni, we must part," he said, in a voice tremulous with
emotion. "Your Indian tongue, or even the language of my own
people, cannot give me words to tell you how much I suffer in leave
you here, in this wild place, among these Indians, who are so dill'erent
from you. You saved my life; you gave me your friendship and
your love. You have been the bright star whose, light has shone in
the black sky of my captivity. My life is yours. You have returned
it to me that I may go back to my people, learn the fate of my
family, and perform the tender duties of a son and brother."
"Laoni is an Indian; El Bravo is a, white man. My people are
taught to brave trouble and. even death, without a iear in 1he eye
or a quiver on the lip. Laoni's love for El Bravo is more than her
life. She can give up her life, but as long as it lasis her love must
remain. El Bravo will go to his people, but the Indian girl would
not keep him. Laoni will wait until the leaves will fall and come^
again, and longer; and if he comes no more, her heari will he sad.
but it will always be with El Bravo."
"If your heart will he sad, my own will be full of sorrow at leav-
ing one who is so true and so good; who, while she lo\es me, is brave
enough to sacrifice her feelings for my interests."
Guy took her in his arms as he said this, and gave her one long-
embrace. She clung to him with the energy of despair; then releas-
ing him, she threw herself upon the ground, uttering a long, plaintive
cry that could only come from a heart almost broken with grief.
With a bound ho was in his saddle, aud the next moment he was
making the descent of the broken hillside at a pace that would have
40 GUY RAYMOND.
been dangerous for an ordinary rider. He did not look back until
he had cleared the hills and turned his pony's head to the course he
was to pursue. The rough descent looked smooth enough above the
green foliage of the mountain growth. The grand old peak above
the mine reared its commanding head in majestic superiority above
its fellows. But the center of interest with our hero was a lone
figure beneath its shadows, that was waving him the last sad adieux
of a brave and faithful heart. Oh, strange world! Oh, stranger
humanity! If, on the dialplatq. of time, the last eighteen month*
could be turned back from the past with their terrible record, what
a load it would lift from more than one suffering heart! Wiser then
to yield to the inevitable without sigh or lamentation. The wheel
of destinv inusl, revolve. Who would clutch its spokes must he maimed
for Hie temerity.
CHAPTER VT.
"This is an excellent place to cam]) for the night, senor. We
will have fine water, plenty of wood for a fire and grass for the
animals."
"Then we had better stop here, by all means; and, as you say.
it is only eighteen miles to town, we will be able to make the distance
by noon tomorrow/ 3
"Easily. Jose, undo the packs. We will make camp over there,
under that fine tree; let a fire be made at once, for a cup of coffi
will be most acceptable after our day's ride."
The speakers were of a party of five mounted travelers, who h
arrived at a picturesque spot on the bnnks of a <-lo-ir, running water-
course. It was late in the afternoon, and the fatigued party w
lured, by the attractions of the locality, to decide on resting for t
night where the wants of man and benst could be so readilv supplied.
The language in which they conversed was the pure Spanish, which
fact, coupled with an ease of bearing and a polish of manner, bespoke
education and gentle breeding. The first speaker was a man of
middle age and ruddy complexion, with clearly cut and rather hand-
some features. The expression of his face was remnrkablv benignant
and cheerful. His voice was musical and, when addressing Jose, was
mellowed by the kindliness of his tone. His dress and the peculiar
shovel hat he wore indicated his priestly character. The other,
habited in the garb of a Mexican civilian of means, was a favorable
representative of the typo. Like the priest, lie was somewhat above
the medium stature, while his complexion was darker and features
:
GUY If. \V.MO.\I). 41
less regular. The latter,, in expression., contrasted singularly with
se of his companion, indicating a superciliousness in their pos-
sessor that would join to the indifference of the man of the world a
stimulating self-esteem calculated to chill and repel.
Jose and the two others rf the party were typical Mexicans of the
lower order. Jose was perhaps somewhat superior in his get-up, from
mule he bestrode to the general toilet of his slight person, in-
cluding the enormous spurs that decked his heels. His two peers had
rich a pack mule loaded with the baggage and effects of the travelers.
The entire party dismounted after the order to Jose, who came
forward and took charge of the horses of the priest and his com-
panion. The packs were removed by the muleteers, and soon the
crackling blaze of a fire sprang from the dry brush and wood collected
by Hie men, and gave an appearance of animation to the camp. Jos*',
after spreading blankets on which the priest and his companion might
repose their weary limbs, busied himself to put the camp in order
and to prepare the coffee as directed. His actions indicated that he
v,as quite an adept in his occupation, for his celerity of movement
was remarkable, taking into consideration the facts, first, of his
nationality, and then the spurs on his heels.
While the men were busy, the two central figures were taking
their ease, reclining on the outspread blankets, conversing in easy
tones of the camp, of the country, of the pretty prospect on the
further side of the San Geronimo, where lay an open, undulating
'lane of several miles. Through the latter wound the road they
:ere pursuing, showing itself plainly at intervals, and again looking
a mere thread, as it marked the side of a distant rise.
"The Americans would, doubtless, like to possess this fair country.
leir immigration here and naturalization is a mere pretext to gain
foothold with an ultimate design to sever it from Mexico," said the
rilian.
"The truth of what you say is only too apparent from recent
rents," replied the priest. "The next few months, I hope, will
settle this colonizing business and see a policy inaugurated that will
.'fFectuallv dampen the rebellious temperament of these Texans."
"When once His Excellency puts foot on Texas soil he will make
lort work of them. He has been wise to conceal his real intentions
wards tin's people. That policy of his was adopted through my
Ivice after my official visit here to estimate the population and
- of the country. I discovered one fact at that time; that it
>uld never do to give them warning of the advance of our troops.
Tore many days there will be national troops enough in Texas to
ish the enemies of Mexico/'
-j-> Guy EAYMOND.
The report, of a. gun interrupted the conversation; and while they
were still speculating as to who it could be so near,, a deer came
I. on ix lino- from the thicket and, leaping over the brook, fell struggling
a few Feet below them. Anticipating that the shot might have come
from Indians of a hostile tribe, the whole party at once stood to thei
arms.
"An Indian must have shot that deer/' said the priest.
"Most probably, and the best thing for us to do is to take a tree,
the oilier suggested.
"Jose, von and 'the others get to cover. We will soon see the
slaver of that buck."
.lose and the two men did not stop to argue the matter, but sought
the nearest available protection, in accordance with the good father's
suggestion.
Their eves were actively scanning the direction whence the shot
had come, when the cracking of the brush attracted their attention,
and the next moment an Indian, mounted and followed by a dog,
(Mine into new, within gunshot of the fallen tree behind which Jose
was lying. The intruder was evidently surprised at the appearance
of a camp, for he reined up his pony and glanced quickly from side
to side, as if in search of the human occupants to whom belonged
the grazing animals and the bright fire that was shooting its flames
up to the very branches of the tree. He caught sight of Jose's som-
hrero, just as that individual raised his musket and fired deliberately
fit him. Understanding now the situation, the supposed Indian calle
out in ii'ood Spanish :
"Do" not fire ! I am a friend !"
Then reversing his gun to show his peaceable intentions, he
to the campfire and dismounted. He was quickly surrounded by the
cainpers. curious to inspect the hunter whose habiliments were Mexic
Indian, but whose features contradicted the inferential nationaliti
while his accent and correct Spanish confirmed the contradiction.
The priest first questioned him :
"Who are you, and which way are you traveling?"
"I have been a captive, and have just effected my escape from t
Indians."
"What is your name, my young friend ?"
"Guy Raymond, sir; whom have I the honor to address?"
"I am Father Ignacio.of the parish of San Fernando, in Bex
Tin's is is Senor Oonzales, and these are our servants. Jose
a bad marksman or you would be the worst for his impetuous dis
itely
**
rode
GUY I RAYMOND. 43
"i thought lie was a sure enough [ndian/' remarked Jose, apolo-
getically.
"!'>v ihe way, youn^ man, you killed your deer. He is lying just
over ilie brook/' said Seiior (Jon/ales.
That's good news," said (iuy. "\Vc had belter skin liini before
if grows dark, /lose, can I liave your help?''
"Hive yourself no Irouble about if, Senor Raymond," said fbe
priest. "Those two Mo/os will dress ihe deer, while Jose will serve
(he coffee. It' seems like ho lias iakon longer than usual to get it
ready, .lose, you used to get around faster, mnehaeho niio."
"'I was about to serve it \vhen Senor Raymond e;ave us the scare."
ik l call that most ill-mannered and ungenerous, to lay your short-
comings <>n our guest, who, at the same time ; is our benefactor, having
brought us a fleer."
Jose took the priest's words half in earnest until lie caught the
smile on his jovial face, which soon terminated in laughter, as he
motioned (iuy to the inspection of his game.
Over the coffee which Jose brought steaming, to them, Guy related
to Souor Gonzales and the priest, the story of his rapture, his life,
among the Indians and his escape four days before. He was de-
lighted with his new company, especially with the priest, whose kind
manner won his heart. The cotfee and crackers were a irreai treat,
not having partaken of the be nor of any kind of bread for
nearly two years. Surfeited with moat, lie scarcely tasted of the
venison that Jose had cooked for their supper. Eolla, however, not
so dainty as IIH master, did not' refuse a hiiiro cut from the rejected
shoulders of the buck.
(<uv, much fatigued by bis lon^ and lonesome ride, was <^lad to
st -etch his limbs on the pallet he made under the same tree where
lu had enjoyed his supper. 1 1 is new friends had also lain down
(|i ite near, and quiet rested over the cam]). He tried for a IOML>; time
to _L'o t'o sleep, but he was conscious of the least sounds, such as the
low nasal whines of Eolla as he skirmished with the liens, or the
trai'ipinir of a horse, as h" broke the, twin's in the undergrowth while
browsino- on its leaves. His mind had all to do with his
wakefulness. The Indian village, with its huts and lodges, nestled
in the hills he had so hitrly left, was plainly pictured. His own
apartment, v.'iib its rawhide roof, mo>-t familiar, presented itself in
al its details, within and without, now done with him forever. The
chief- nbodo, with the bower of his friend, the passionate and faith-
ful Laoni, with its orderly arrangement: of handsome furs and robes,
d in mental review. He thought over their last long interview
44 GUY EAYMOND.
in her apartment, her touching words and her devotion to Walumpta.
His mind wandered to the rock above the falls, where they used to
sit and where he knew she would often go again to think and wait
for El Bravo. It was very late., and still the Goddess of Slumber he
would fain woo to his arms, held herself aloof and pointed remorse-
lessly to recollections of his late wild life. From the rock above the
falls' he dreamily wandered to the canon, and up its rocky steep. Its
jagged sides and impending boulders projected threateningly above
him, while he approached the mine. He felt that some one followed
stealthily behind, but he could not turn to look. Some geni of the
mountain had fixed his view to the front and he was powerless to
cast over his shoulder the glance which it seemed he would have given
worlds to make. Courageously he .pushed on to the opening, on the
further side of which was the mine. He gained the excavation in the
mountain side and peered within. The yawning shaft was dark as
ever, and when he looked yet closer, human skulls with eyeless sockets,
and grinning jaws floated round its margin. Terrified, he turned to
fly, when he was caught in some one's arms, and carried to the
heights which overlooked the village. His captor placed him gently
on the ground, and looking up he saw it was Laoni. . He tried to
speak to her, but she signed him to silence, and pointed meaningly
down the line of the mountains which lost itself in the far southwest.
He rose to his feet and held out his arms to embrace her, but she
withdrew and pointed him to his pony, grazing near. He hesitated;
then turning resolutely he caught the girl, but she broke away from
his grasp, leaving in his clutched hand something that emitted a soft,
silver glow like that reflected by the evening star. He regarded it
closely. It was the medal hanging from its snowy beadwork. He
raised his head to look for Laoni. As he looked she seemed to rise
from the ground, still pointing down the mountain range, and her
form grew fainter and fainter and larger and larger, until it only
became identified from the mountain mists by a deeper shade of out-
line. Guy awoke, half oppressed by his dream, to find the glow of
the morning and the camp astir.
The rising sun found the travelers ready to mount to renew their
journey. The priest and Senor Gonzales were the first to leave. Guy
rode by the side of Jose. The two mozos brought up the rear with
their pack-mules. The leading couple of the travelers rode for a
time without speaking. The priest was evidently thinking of the
young American who had so unexpectedly joined them the even
previous, for he broke the silence with the remark :
"Our young recruit appears to be a most intelligent fellow,
UK'
tog
H,
(Jrv 1 JAY. MO xi). ir>
brightness and manners have greatly prepossessed me in his favor."
"He is doubtless intelligent. His Spanish, though wanting in
:icc, shows the remarkable tact he possesses in acquiring it almost
entirely from books. Intelligence is with him a race characteristic.
You know my love for Americans. Their push and impudence but
augments my hatred for them.''
"But one may dislike a race and yet admire one of its individuals
for a particular virtue or accomplishment/'
"An aversion for everything American has become inherent in
my nature. Perhaps befojv another twelve month* the name of
Almonte will bo equally hated bv ail American Texans." ,
* ' # * #
"Jose! What distance is it from here t-o San Antonio?" asked
(>uy, as (hey stopped on the brow of {he first hill and awaited the
approach of the two mo/.os. who had been detained by the slipping
of a pack.
" father Ignaeio said it was about six leagues from the San
Geronimo."
"Is that the name of the creek where we camped last night?"
ti.-ked (hiy. , ,
-Si. senor."
* * # *
"That American looks like a true Indian, with his hack to us,"
said one mo/o to the other.
"He is no better than one if he did stretch himself on a fresada
and drink coffee with the padre," was the reply.
L \Joso took iTiv moral t'O feed his Indian scrub, and this morning
T could not find it." ,
It was a bad fortune that misdirected Jose's shot."
would have saved him some trouble and me my moral. He is
riding bravely by him now and tonight lie will be fetching his supper
and water for his bath."
"Maybe if lie stops with the padre/"
"That he will certainly do, or it will not be- the fault of Father
Ignacio. 1 wonder if he will pav me for my moral. If he don't
I'll keep this medal of Our Lady, which he dropped in camp. It is
silver and will buy many morals."
"My noon the travelers hud reached the Ale/an and were on the
ntering the qnaint- old town of Moxar. The sudden sound
bell rang clearly in the distance, striking slowly three distinct
pen'-. The sounds conveyed an admonition. The travelers reined
fleir animals to a half, while the priest and the uncovered Mexicans
4-r
GUY EAYMOND.
made the sign of the cross and, with bowed heads, muttered the
prayers of the Angelus. Twice three more peals of the bell and the
chime succeeded, when the parties replaced their hats and again
moved forward. The dark walls of San Fernando rose stately above
the low buildings in its vicinity, while further east the ornate front
of the Alamo was plainly distinct. The willows of the San Pedro
fringed the view with a line of pale green, skirting the entire western
limits of the place; and away beyond, on the further side of the swift-
running San Antonio, were the majestic rows of the cottonwoods that
lined either side of the Alameda. The grim walls of "El Campo
Santo," around which wound the road they were pursuing, were finally
reached, the San Pedro was forded, the military plaza was crossed,
and Father Ignacio found himself at the door of his quarters opposite
the south side of the venerable old church.
"Welcome, Senor Raymond, to San Fernando. There, in that old
church, is where I belong. Here is where I stay when I am not
attending to my spiritual duties. Alight, Senors. Jose, take the
animals in the yard and see that they are attended to."
The good father seemed elated with his arrival home and wore
his most pleasant smile as he addressed Guy and Senor Gonzales and
gave his order to Jose.
As he rode into the town Guy began to be impressed with the
fact that his dress was most uncivilized and he could not restrain a
feeling of annoyance which the reflection caused. Yet he observed
that the garb of the Mexicans was of a diversity that seemed to
require no particular style, and that buckskin entered more or less
into the makeup of every article of the outer garments of the general
populace. In fact, diversity of apparel was so common from the
ingress of Spaniards, Mexicans, Indians and Americans, that no
notice whatever was usually taken of an oddity in the way of dross.
Guy, therefore, passed without comment to the priest's home, and in-
stead of proving an object for the curiosity of the San Antonians, he,
himself, was greatly amused at some queer sights that greeted his exes.
A procession of donkeys loaded with wood, a bundle of which was
balanced on either side, moved along the south of the plaza. Behind
these came three moving piles of hay, completely enveloping the
motor that propelled them along. A nearer approach, however, dis-
closed the mininutive hoofs of the same patient animals, upon whose
backs the grass was ingenuously packed, covering their bodies and
heads and trailing to the ground.
He gladly accepted Father Ignacio's hospitality. The room into
which he was ushered fronted on the narrow alley that separated the
GUY RAYMOND. 47
from the church and opened on the sidewalk. It was
apparently the priest's sitting room, being plainly furnished, like all
Mexican houses of the better class, a table and a half dozen chairs
constituted the furniture. The floor was of flagstones, laid with all
their natural irregularities, but quite ingenuously matched so as to
leave no very wide spaces to be filled with mortar. A plain crucifix
and a. thermometer hung over the opening of the fireplace. No mantel
piece graced the latter. The cold, bare walls were unbroken, save by
the doors, front and rear, and the high, narrow, grated window that
o\erlooked the alley.
Senor Gonzales paced the apartment in a restless manner, appar-
ently paying little attention to the young American, or to the apart-
ment and its appointments. He did, indeed, stop several times in
his iurns and east glances through the grated window to the main
plaza on which fronted the church, of San "Fernando. This plaza,
smaller Mian the one in the rear of the edifice, was the mart of the
town, where were the tiendas and vinot'erias; the resting place of
the hay and fuel-loaded burros in the inlorim of display and sale of
the commodities they carried. Father Tgnacio soon returned and
invited his guests to follow him to the court in the rear of the apart-
ment', where (hey would find water and towels with which to remove
the dust of travel. This invitation, with the announcement that later
they could enjoy a, bath in the river or a full-length wash in the tub,
agreeable news to (Juy, who coupled the intelligence with visions
of a wardrobe more consonant with his nationality, and which would
e thought, most acceptable, if obtainable, when he should cast
off his Indian toggery for the luxury of a. bath. The court was a
square space paved with flags, surrounded, on all sides by the walls
of apartments belonging to the residence. The portions on the south
and east hoa-ted of a second story with piazzas overlooking the pave-
ineiii below. In the center grew a tall banana tree, its broad leaves
over-reaching half the circumscribed limits of the place.
P>enoat h the eastern piazza was a, stone shelf, upon which were the
basins, and near by a huge jug of pottery filled with water from
wift-rumring Aceqiiia thai coursed along the western side of the
plaza. Jose, who appeared to be the priest's right-hand man, ap-
hed witli towels, and the guests proceeded to test the virtues of
limestone water and soap as antidotes for the more visible evidences
dusty journey. It was not a great while after their ablutions'
nida, or dinner, was announced by the ubiquitous .lose,
who seemed to be everywhere and engaged in all work, obedient to
whose summons the party repaired to the apartment across the hall
48 GUY EAYMOND.
from the sitting-room, and found a table moderately supplied witl
dishes of Mexican cookery. Two huge platters, one containing "chile
con carne," red with its peppery infusion, and the other filled witl
frijoles, the Mexican national "bean, occupied the prominent positions
w r hile a half dozen entrees, unnameable preperations, and a plate o]
smoking tortillas were ranged in the center.
"Take that seat, Senor," said Father Ignacio, pointing to the enc
of the table. You, Senor Eaymond, occupy this one by me."
"Your cook, Father, must have anticipated you arrival, since h(
lias gotten this dinner so quickly/ 7 said Senor Gonzates.
"Ah ! There is where you are mistaken. My cook did not expeci
n ic at all this week. These dishes are from Senora Candelario's, whc
always has something good ready cooked for her customers. Senoi
linymond, let me help you to some of this chile con carne, and frijoles.'
Guy passed his plate, which was ainuly supplied with the savory
compound, and the trio were soon discussing the excellence of th(
Candelario's dishes. The entrees were duly tested, but found little
favor with the American guest, who, nevertheless, swallowed the quote
each time the test was made, being determined to satisfy his curiosity,
on the subject of the Mexican menu. The chile con carne was a little
hot, and indeed, several other dishes he had tasted contained more 01
less strong infusions of the favorite pepper. This caused a longing foi
water to cool the burning effect on his gums and throat, and a*
there was none in sight he signified to his host that a drink wouh"
be most acceptable. The services of Jose were again brought into
requisition and the water produced, supplemented by wine and glasses
Guy eagerly swallowed a couple of glasses of water and felt inucl"
relieved. With the subsidence of the burning he felt renewed courage
to taste the contents of a very small saucer, which was the only disl
of whose merits he had not become fully cognizant. He therefore
reached for it and took a small quantity on his plate. The substance
was minced to a fineness that defied any attempts at ocular analysis
but, its inviting green color evidently relegated it to tho catogorv ol
relishes. Being Mexican it would have been preposterous to doubl
the presence of pepper; color green, it must therefore be givon pepper
and, thought Guy, "Anybody can eat it green, as the fiery property
culminates at maturity and then it is essentially red."
Emboldened by this assumption, he carried the entire quantity
on his plate to his mouth, feeling, while it was in transit, n relie!
that this was the last gout that the demands of an acquaintance witl:
tho menu Mexican would require of him for the present.
The effect was terrible. Color green? If he was not color-blind.
GUY KAY.MOND. -1!)
then the taste was rod. For it seemed to liini as lie gulped down the
rc/i^/i that, nil the concentrated fires of an inferno had become incor-
porated in that saucer of verdant deception. Water streamed from
lii's eves. Strangulation, hiccough, prevented his frantic attempt- to
drink for a rime. He made his exit from the room and to Jose out
into the court. Senor Gonzales was nonplussed as to what had hap-
pened to tin- young man, but the priest was wiser as lie had witnessed
act which had caused the trouble, and notwithstanding his sym-
palhv for the Mifi'erer lie could not refrain from laughing heartily.
"What makes yon laugh? 1 think it disgusting that a person
should so gorge himself as to choke at table," said Senor Gonzales.
"Why, the poor fellow lias not eaten so much/' said the priest.
"He simply tried to eat these minced chili ipines like he would any
simple vegetable and that is what even ^Mexican throats could not
stand. "I'll go and fetch him back; a glass of wine will relieve him."'
Guy, in a very little while, had regained his breath and supp'
the hiccoughs, lie laved his face in the basin, and was about to
mipany Father Ignacio back to the dining table, when he ] or-
! a letter under the shelf on the pavement. Supposing it to be
one of several that he saw Senor Gonzales drop before dinner, and
which he inferred had been overlooked., he picked it up. Tt was ad-
dressed: "Senor Fdourdo Grition, San Antonio de Bexar."
On entering the room he found the senor sipping his wine and
looking abstractedly across the table. That worthy did not appear
to notice the entrance of the others, until Guy addressed him.
"Were you not, Senor, the bearer of this letter? I found it just
. near where you dropped the papers from your pocket."
Senor Gonzales reached for the letter and. on noting the super-
scription, .-i-owled darkly, casting a look at Guy in which were blended
inquiry and suspicion.
CIIAITKK VII.
of September, 1836, found Texas ablaze with excite-
ment over the relentless policy which the Mexican general govcrn-
, impersonated in Santa Anna, manifested towards the American
Texa is who had settled as colonists under guarantees, by the Federal
rights and immunities incident to citizenship. San
at. that time the headquarters of the military depart-
>lonel rgartacliea in command. The spirit of resistance
action.-, and resentment for the unreasonable withholding of
privileges of free government, which naturally accrue, and
'id keep, pace with the pmgre.-s and population of a free people.
50 GUY RAYMOND.
had become general throughout the State. The notes of preparation
for the coming struggle filled the political atmosphere. The appoint-
ment of committees of safety, the secret accumulation of arms, the
dispatch of messages to friends across the Sabine for assistance in any
shape, constituted initial steps of the Texans. The Mexican com-
mandant and his superiors were not slow to realize the brewing of
a storm and, while they used all the arts of pacification to allay the
suspicions of the turbulent colonists, the Mexican army was en route,
in three divisions, with Texas the destination and coercion the object.
Through spies they had singled out and demanded the surrender of
the leaders of the war party, that they might be subject to the justice
of a court-martial, and the tender mercies of a Mexican military
official.
Already Captain Castonado with a troop of cavalry had attempted
to remove a cannon from Bastrop to Bexar, but had been repulsed by
the vigilant Texans, and the gun retained. Other collisions between
the soldiery and the people had occurred at Goldad and on the
coast, all of which tended to draw the lines between the military
authority, which in fact had absorbed the civil, and the American
colonists. San Antonio was therefore almost entirely deserted by
the latter, the remaining few being kept under the most rigid
surveillance. When Guy, therefore, later in the afternoon informed
Father Ignacio of his intention to go out in the town for
the purpose of disposing of his horse, saddle and bridle, to enable
him to purchase the clothing he needed, he was advised by the
friendly priest to allow Jose to perform that office for him.
"Perhaps he will prove a better trader than I am."
"It is not that supposition which prompted my surest ion, al-
though Jose, from his wide acquaintance, doubtless would be more
successful in making a good bargain. But, my son, the times are
growing troublesome. Your people are at outs with the government,
find are looked upon with suspicion by the authorities. So you sec,
amigo mio, I do 'not want you to run any risk by going out by your-
self; a stranger you know, just come in town, will have to produce
vouchers. Remain indoors today and I will see that, after, you can
go where you please; of course, on your parole."
"What! Have I escaped from the Indians, only to find myself a
prisoner? But tell me, good father, what you have heard from my
people. Are they in arms against the government?"
"I cannot speak plainly. All I can HI you is, ihere is trouble
coming, and my interest in you makes me nnxinus to have you do
untiling Hint could compromise your safety.*-''
GUY RAYMOND. 51
As you will then. Let Jose make the trade."
On the eastern side of Main pla/a, about midway of the row of
shops and apartments, was an establishment common to every Mexican
town of even limited size, and deemed by the population as essential
as (lie church, the tienda, or even the cock pit. The letters over the
door spelled the words "Monte Pio," the Spanish for pawnbroker.
The average Mexican would have a much greater idea of Heaven if
ho believed it contained a peculiarity of this nature. To the Monte
I Mo he hies for his stake to test his fortune at the game of monte.
If ihci gnawings of hunger arc about to goad him to desperation, the
Montr IMo is often his saviour, by making an advance, however small,
on almost any article of jewelry, dress or property, be it the very
shoes from his feet or the snaked sombrero which surmounts his
cranium. The Mexican Monte Pio is different from his foreign
brolher. He will accept the most apparently valueless things in the
world, which may, by any conceivable chance, be made applicable, not
only to personal necessities, but to the most inconceivable eccentrici-
ties of taste. He is therefore a benefactor; and to the Aztec race, a
positive necessity. Imagine, for a moment, a town in the sister
republic, boasting a few thousands or a few hundreds of people, and
no Monte Pio. Preposterous ! It may have no church, nor a regular
Picradilla stand, nor even a cock pit. But the Monte Pio, with his
dark apocento, his jumble of stock, his odds and ends, his indiscrimi-
nate display of toggery, arms, jewelry, spurs, bedding, blankets, som-
breros and what not, with his suave manners and patronizing style,
is an indispensable requisite.
Jose, on being informed of the duty which would be required of
him, readily signified his willingness to render the service to the
young American. As major domo of the popular priest of San Fer-
nando, lie was known to every man, woman and child in Bexar, there-
by possessing an influence among the ordinary people that was often
potent, where failure would have attended efforts from more preten-
tious sources. He held intimate connection with the father, who
minislered to their spiritual necessities, who entered into all their
sports, i-iipouraged the parades on holidays, their furious riding on
"KI dia de San Juan," the ante-Christmas lanterns, the ludicro-
dramatic performance of the pastores, and various and sundry cele-
brations of fiestas without number. Hence his weight in the com-
munity. He was envied by the class from whose ranks he was
drafted, but the feeling was dwarfed by an awe for the importance
of his o(li<-<>. AV ith the Alonto Pio he was solid, and to be solid in
ihis direction was the ultimathule of the ordinary Mexican. There
52 GUY RAYMOND.
was, however, a purpose in this solidity, as there arc purposes in all
strong manifestations without the pale of the affections. The purpose,
of course,, was with the Monte Pio. His business, in spite of the
role we granted it as a benefaction, possessed features not in harmony
wilh ethics prescribed by holy church. Therefor* 1 , to avoid the anath-
emas of that institution for possible and probably lapses, for
deviations from the perpendicular of rectitude, for sundry grinding
exactions, amounting to positive oppression, Jose was proj itiated ,1!
all times and on all occasions. Jose was near the padre. He could
sliflc complaint. He could smooth over report* and restrain per-
sistence by iimely compromise.
Jose, therefore, when he found that he had a bargain to make,
immediately thought of the Monte Pio, his refuge in all difficulties
pecuniary.
On the afternoon in question, a knot of cindadanos were grouped
in front of the tienda del Monte Pio. The characteristic grave ex-
pressions of the silent, apathetic race of which they were individuals,
were worn by the faces of the party, as they conversed almost in
monosyllables, and ejected from lips or nostrils the curling, white
smoke of their ciragetas. The plaza and streets were nearly do-
HM'ted by the populace, most of whom were still indoors, indulging
in the conventional siesta or not yet fully aroused from its lethargic
influence.
"I hear that Father Tgnacio returned this morning." said one
the group, to his nearest .companion, as he completed the artis
rolling of a fresh cigareta and motioned for a light.
"I sa.w him crossing the Military plaza coming in. He was
accompanied by another gentlemanly-looking man, and a curiou
dressed fellow, a decidedly Indian dress and a fair skin. I won
who it could have been?"
"'Where were you, Manuel?" queried another. "I saw the pa
myself. They passed very close to where I was, and. if T mista
not. F know the gentlemanly fellow. If it was not General Almonte 1
it was his ghost in citizen's dress."
"Why should he or his ghost want to dress like a citizen? Th
officers are never guilty of being out of uniform. They are as v
of gold lace as a peacock is of his tail."
"Sometimes it is policy to travel without being known. P>osid
Ml Ptesedente may have sent him on some secret service. 1 saw
the same man, that was with Father Tgnacio, walking with Oaptai
Caslonado, going to headquarters. I am almost certain it is Almon
"I wonder if Castonado informed him how the Americans bin
s
(it Y 1. \YMON I). .*).'>
him at 'Bash-op. Ho ought io have his gold lace pulled ofV. after
h an expedition/'
"You never tire of scoffing at our officers and soldiers. You
Id go and join these. Texan- Americans. Do von know, Manuel,
you are >d of having sympathy for the other side?"
"Let them suspect. I have done nothing except to condemn mis-
management and cowardice. 1 have received and expect
from the powers that he. They d .Juan Seguin will) sus-
picions until he was driven to 1 ! Let them look to H
thai "Manuel Pni/ is not fore \amp1e."
"Tin's is hut the braggadocio of a would-he traitor. Would you
in an attempt to destroy our government?"
"'('all it what you please. Sancho, hul the Mexican who would
:er the unscrupulous rule of military satrap? to the blessni
a popular government si' tor that he i
fit to have a country to betray/ 3
^ I lave you no race?"
"Pride of race can ii"ver exist in a race of peons. And this i^
.ling to. under His ] i El Prosedento.' 1
ife will tell ns if it was Almonte."
The major doino here rode up mounted on Guv's pony, with the
In-idle and saddle that the latter had captured in the fight with the
.luted the bystanders, all of whom he doubtless knew
h\ name. They indo: urnod his salutation of "Buenas t; 1
ho having propounded i ion to elicit the desired infor-
'entity of S dismounting,
led the latter Dame, looked wise, and placed his linger
his lips, as i!' to enjoin ,-i discontinuance of such inrpiii-
Sancho was satisfied with the pantomime, and turning to Unix,
id:
''You see 1 was right/'
The 'Monte Pio was just rising from a siesta on the floor of his
, having converted a pile of hhnikeis ;
the purpose of taking his daily nap. TTc gneted his visitor
pleasantly, made particular inquiry after the health of the padre,
luse of their delayed return from the Pio Grande, ,-nid
:!_. MKinv oth ( 'd hy their intimate relations
B' on have a new horse and on! (he Moiile Pio.
mine. It is about that same horse and ouHii
ioruoon, amigo uiio," said Jose, pu1
d liu-htlv on the other's shoulder and looking (piixxinglv in
54: GUY EAYMOND.
It is a pony of good appearance, and the saddle lias been a line
one."
-1 am glad to hear you say that," said Jose, "for I have come to
trade you the horse and outfit."
"Well, in that case, I will have to look closer. It occurs to me
the pony is pretty well alon^- in years, but I must admit the silver
mounting of the saddle."
"Wha't will you give for all?"
"Knr ihe pony, saddle and bridle; let me see diez, quinze, diez, y
''Come, compadre, what are you talking about. I don't want to
pawn them ; I want to sell them."
"You don't think I would pay that much on them in pawn. It's
what they are worth, that I was calculating."
"Wo can't trade then. I know Father Tgnacio will be disap-
pointed when I tell him the miserable price you offered."
"Is it for the padre you are making the trade?"
"For Father Ignacio himself."
"De veras?"
"De veras."
"Bueno. What say you to twenty pesos?"
"You are getting stingy, as you grow richer. You had better
keep on the good side of the padre."
"Better say on your good side, for Father Ignacio is not the one
to bo bribed by the price of a horse. If I have escaped censure for
certain piecadillos. it is because you stood between me and him for
price. Come, JOM>. name your amount."
Jose, after a moment's deliberation, took the Monte Pio aside an
engaged him in an inaudible conversation. After some gesticulation
and seeming di (Terence, they arrived at some understanding. The
pony was stripped of Iris saddle and bridle, which were brought into
the shop and deposited, while the horse was led away around the
corner of the street next to the river. The major domo, having con-
cluded the trade -to his satisfaction, left the shop of the Monte Pio and,
after bandying a few words with the men assembled around the door,
departed in the direction of the priest's house.
GUY EAYMOND. 55
CHAPTER VIII.
About midway between tlic plaza and the bridge, on the north side
of M'a in street, stood a house retired a little from the thoroughfare,
and almost touching the hank of the stream in its rear. In its front
marched, with measured stride, a barefoot soldier with a tattered
uniform. His long musket rested upon his shoulders, its bright
bayonet flashing in the sunlight, as he turned at the end of his beat.
A veranda extended the full length of the building facing the river
and separated from it by a parterre of shrubbery and fig trees. The
afternoon sun was casting shadows from walls and foliage over the
grounds, and upon the blue and deep current that passed in graceful
eddies under the steep embankment. In a rude and capacious cage
of native workmanship, swinging from a limb of a tree almost touch-
ing the house, a mocking-bird was caroling his wildest notes, to
which one of his untamed species made answer from a willow on the
further bank, under which a lot of Mo.xican women, washing clothes
and. chattering ever and anon, formed a picturesque group.
The veranda was occupied by three men, who were seated in ap-
parent consultation around a table upon which were papers and writ-
ing material. One, a thin-visaged, dark-complexioned man, dressed
in the uniform of a Colonel of the Mexican Army, occupied the
central position. He sat stiff' and upright in his chair, while his
features wore a worried expression that gathered the deep wrinkles
to his forehead. On his left, in the uniform of a captain, was a
young ollirer of quite a careless mein, indicated by his expression
and the easy, lounging altitude. The third would have been easily
nvngni/j'd by the reader as the Senor Gonzales, . introduced in a
former chapter, while the traveling companion of Father Tgnacio.
!< still wore the garb of a civilian, and had lost none of that im-
mobility of countenance which seemed to repel all approaches of
familiarity. The la. tier was the first to speak.
"This letter from Senor Gritton does not place you in a very
favorable lij^ht, as commander of a responsible expedition, Captain
Castonado."
''The opinion of a mere citizen amounts to little in the case since
as ignorant of the instructions I had to guide me. The Colonel,
ere, gave me my orders, which were to avoid all hostile collisions
with the people, and if I could not succeed in getting possession of
iMiion by a show of force, to retire and await further orders."
v .as is
i
here,
1 1. \YMOND.
"The Captain is correct," said the Colonel. "It lias ahva
my opinion that a pacific and liberal policy towards these colonists
would accomplish what harsh measures could never effect. They have
e> Migrated from a country where every concession is made to indi-
vidual liberty that is consistent with the ends of mild and popular
government. This should bo patent to you, General Almonte, who
received your education in the United States."
"AViih your policy in force these Americans would not only root
out evorv veslige of Mexican custom- and interest, but would soon
prow strong enough to threaten the States on the other side of the
Rio Grande. "Force, must bo used, and that soon, to check their
audacity. General Cos will soon be here, and he will be followed by
(\vo divisions, the last and larger under the command of Santa Anna
himself. The President is determined on subjugation and, if need
be, annihilation, deeming it necessary for the security of this territory
to the Republic. Your policy. Colonel Ugartachea, is a wrong one
in dealing with the kind of stuff the colonists are made of."
"If my theory is wrong in practice, it is right from a liberal or
republican standpoint."
"How many names of ringleaders does Gritton's list contain?"
asked Almonte.
"It is here among these papers. You can examine it yourself."
AYi'ilc Almonte for Senor Gonzales was no other than the noted
staff officer of the Mexican dictator was looking over the lists handed
him, a soldier appeared and delivered a document to the command-
ing officer. Directing the messenger to retire and await orders, the
0] eued the papers which, having read, ho passed to Almonte.
"That means war, and no mistake," said the latter. "I know this
Henry Smith."
"The President should be advised of this move without delay.
and a courier should bo dispatched at ouco, with your endorsement.
"No need of that, Colonel," said Almonte. "I am to return to
Mexico myself within twenty-four hours, and will see Santa Anna ns
soon as a courier could reach him."
"Your stay is brief."
"Necessarily so. The object of my mission here has been more
lliaii realized by what I have learned. Here is a communication For
Edward Gritton. A reliable courier disguised in the doilies of an
ordinary dii/en must place it in his hands. T will rely on your
judgment in the execution of the matter."
I'gartachea took (lie letter, promising to have ii safely in the
hands of the parly whose address it bore.
Grv 1J Ay MO NT>. 57
\Ve will leave the officers to discuss (ho situation, which appeared
to be growing critical for Mexican supremacy in Texas. The courier
had brought the news of the action of the council in its issue of a
circular, designed to conciliate the Texas tribes of Indians, of the
return of Stephen F. Austin from Mexico, and the warlike resolutions
at Brazoria.
When Jose returned home he found Guy just emerging from the
luxury of a hath, and the clothing which the former brought cain"
in good time for him to try on. The major dorno had indeed b
lavish in his selection, not only in quality and style, but- in propor-
iioiis. The first suit he got hold of was sufnYiently ample for an
individual of exaggerated corporosity, and the second and third gained
on the first in length, io compensate for shrinkage in amplitude. He
began, to despair of a fit as .lost* re-entered. The hitter gave his
-sistance and by their joint elTorts, a suit cap-a-pie, was found thai,
dint of a little tightening here and a little altering there, could
made to serve the purpose of our hero until something better could
accomplished in the i mi 11 or of attire.
"You don't look like a Li pan any more, senor. Your hat is just:
thing and sets off your handsome face."
"Jose, you are a flatterer."
"Do veras ; you are handsome in your new clothes."
"It is the clothes that makes the man," said Guy. "My father
ten said that dress had much to do with our destiny."
"Vour father was a fine looking man?"
"He was the type of perfect manhood," snid Guy, with a sigh, as
3mory recalled the last time he had seen the subject of their con-
ttion.
''Was he smart?" continued Jose.
"Aye, he was a philosopher. A man whose life was a period of
idy."
"Like el padre, Ignacio. lie always lias his nose in. a hook, when
is not attending to his church duties."
"There, Jose, I think I have put the finishing touch to my dress.
ie clothes are so decidedly Mexican that I could be taken for one
of vour countrymen. I wonder if Senor Gonzalcs would know me
if he met me on the street."
"Certainly. That face of yours, and those locks of wavy golden
hair that any senorita might envy, would tell on yon."
"Well, as'i have no cause to disguise myself, there is little desire
to conceal my identity. I am. therefore, Senor Jose, transformed,
through the medium of clothes, from El l>ravo, the Lipan, to Guy
58 GUY RAYMOND.
R;mnond, the American, Mexicanizcd by appearances. I have neg-
lected to thank you for thus advancing me several degrees nearer to
civilization, or to ask you about the success you met with in trading
off my pony and saddle."
"These clothes you have on are a part of the trade. In addition
I got twenty-five dollars, which will be at your service in the morning."
"You are a pretty good trader, Jose. Count on five dollars of
that amount as your own in payment for your trouble."
"Senor Raymond is too good. I did not charge anything."
"But you will accept."
"If you will not tell Father Ignacio that you paid mo."
"Never fear, we will keep our own soerois. While I think of it,
Jose, I have lost something which 1 highly prize. .It is a medal of
the Virgin, attached to a string of fine beads, and belonged to an
Indian girl who saved my life. When I left the Lipan village, this
girl gave me that buckskin pouch, full of dried venison and in it I
found tli is medal I spoke of. She evidently intended it for me, and
that I should discover it after our parting."
"The girl loved you, then."
"She loved me too well, Jose; better than I deserved."
"Most girls would love Senor Raymond."
"Let us talk about the medal. You have not seen it?"
"No, Senor. When did you see it last?"
"Not since the night before I reached your camp."
"You may have lost it then before you joined us."
"Perhaps."
Guy and the major domo, continuing their conversation, moved
to the sidewalk and took seats looking out on the plaza, over which
the shades of evening were falling. The population had moved from
indoors, and there were a goodly lot of passers and groups scattered
here and there. Occasionally one or more female figures, almost
enveloped in capacious rebosas, would pass out of the church and
take their way in different directions, conversing in their musi-
cal language. Jose explained to his companion many points about
the actions and customs of his people, that proved interesting
the listener. In reply to the question if church was going 01
at that hour in San Fernando, he explained that the women he ha(
seen issuing from its portals had been confessing, ; in<l that Fatliei
Ignacio had been there all the afternoon hearing confessions.
"Do any of the men confess their sins?" asked Guy. "I did nol
see one among the number that came out of the church."
"The men do not care much for their souls. Once a year is aboul
GUY RAYMOND. 59
"As with all nations, the goodness is all in the women."
"The men of our country like fast living, fine horses, and to bet
at monte ; they have not much time to pray."
"So much the worse for them, I fear," said Guy. "For the sake of
morals the uneducated should have some solrt of religion. I should
like to see a game of motile, as I have read of the passion your
countrymen possess for betting at it."
"1 F Senor Raymond w r ill allow me, I will take him to see a game
tonight."
"I will accept your offer. Jose. Mere comes Kalher iguacio from
ie cliurcli. Jose, I lie Father is a good man."
'He is a living saint."
CHAPTER TX.
Late on an October aficrnoon, along a prairie pathway that led
twai'dlv to where a line of scattered timber fringed the nearer side
a watercourse, rode a solitary horseman. Miles of valley, in un-
ken level, disclosed naught beside (he golden waving grass glinting
the sunlight and Humps of mosquito- here and there, lending variety
the vista. Opposite, the bold hills impinged upon the stream and
rked its course by the red border which periodical torrents had
nrn to precipitous banks. The ambling gait of the pony swayed the
ider in easy motion from side to side, keeping perfect time to a
nuiniious nasal sound oF a Mexican song that issued in low notes
m his lips:
"Yo no soy de aqui, soy de Carecel,
Solo me devierto, con mi pi to, real.
Ksio pilo, real, Yo me lo halle
Si yo no lo gusto, yo lo vcndere."
glances, to the left and rear, were cast occasionally by
his dark eyes, from under the broad brim of his sombrero. The
jogging pace of the animal at length brought him to a deep gully,
that dived below the surface and coursed away towards the run.
deepening and widening, until lost in the level forming the wide,
dry bed of the stream. Suddenly, quickening his pace, he urged his
animal into the depression, and soon horse and rider became lost to
view.
: e, Ducio! There is a horseman beyond, and he's coming from
picious direction."
"Where?"
(JO <<l'V 1J AYAIOXI).
"Across ilic creek. Have ye no eyes, man?"
"I see him now. He is a greaser, too."
"As if that was so hard to make out ! Stop hack here
l.-t him see us. uniil lie gets closer. Do ye mind?"
"I don't see him no^w. He must be in one of those big waslies. He
disappeared just as yon spoke."
"He got a si glit of yon ; that's what's the -matter. You'd he a bother
on any scout. Yon are too slow, man. When I told ye to come hack"
out of sight, ye should ha' moved."
"What's the di (Terence, Mr. Trigg? If yon want to get to close
quarters with him. we can do so, whether he sees us or not."
"What do ye know about close quarters? If it was an open sea
and ship and ship the lightest heels would win. Uose quarters if it
\vas wanted. But in these gulleys and hiding places ye might have a
race horse and it wouldn't do no good in overhauling a greaser Unit's
out of sight. Ye should obey orders, man."
"If you will remain here I'll bet you the best league of land in
'Texas I will bring yon that fellow in thirty minutes."
"You've got so many leagues of land to bet away and it's been a
bare month or six weeks that ye cmne to Texas, and wid more brass
in yer face than money in yer pocket."
"IVrass is sometimes the very best kind of capital, and often suc-
ceeds where money and modesty would go to the dogs."
"Well, well ! Maybe you are right, but let us ride for that
Mexican, and see what he's after doinir, coming from the course lie
did."
One of the spe.ikers was a man of middle age, and powerful build,
the other younger ami of light figure, but athletic mould. The former
had a light ruddy complexion, suited to the nationality which his
brogue betrayed. The latter was dark almost to swarthiuess which.
with his physiognomy, indicated a genealogy that had toi'.-hed upon
the dubious bounds of some race darker than Caucasion. The two
men had been resting under a tree on the opposite bank of the
creek towards which the "Mexican was approaching, while their sad-
dled horses grazed near at hand. They wore scouts sent out froi*
Force of Toxnns, encamped on the Cibolo creek, under Ihe command
of Stephen F. Austin. The younger had seen the Mexican disappear
in the gully, as has been learned from their conversation. The two
were not long in filling their saddles and setting out at a rapid
for the creek, distant a hundred yards or so. The elder took a
course to intercept' 1he Mexican below the gully, while he who was
called Ducio by his companion, went towards a [joint above.
GUY RAYMOND. 61
At a distance not exceeding four miles above the spot where Mr.
Trigg and his companion had observed the strange horseman, across
the arroyo, and situated on the margin of the same run,, was a mott
of timber skirting the crescent bank of a waterhole, made by the
sudden deepening of the bed of the creek and the consequent reten-
tion of its waters, which, in dryer seasons, sought the rocky strata
lying beneath its sands. Opposite the grove, the banks rose to the
proportions of a bluff, contrasting- with the easy slope that ascended
through the timber and terminated in the open prairie, where the
bright silver of the horizon shone cheerily through the foliage. A
more picturesque location could not have been chosen for an encamp-
ment, for here was cooling shade and water, fuel for light and cook-
ing, protection by the circling bluffs and stately pecans, from wind
and storm, while out upon the plain the tall, rich grass made a
wealth of pasturage. It was not then strange that here, on this
October afternoon, we should find groups of men, wagons and graz-
ing animals. The first were scattered here and there in every con-
ceivable occupation, or in no occupation whatever. The wagons, two
in number, stood where the timber touched the opening, while the
horses were beyond on the prairie, secured by rope or hopple. A single
wall tent occupied a central position, facing the opposite highland,
and gave additional shelter to numerous and indiscriminate articles
which were disclosed by the raised sides of the canvas. Several fires
through the wood, each of which formed a nucleus for a group of
men, sent up columns of smoke, denser where the green fuel resisted
the struggling flame, and light and blue where the blazes rose and
crackled through dryer twigs. The absence of almost all appliances
for camping, save those essentials which, however rude and impro-
vised, must follow the frontiersman and constitute his paraphernalia,
for all occasions and uses, would have been noticeable to an observer
studying the personnel of the camp and endeavoring, from their sur-
roundings and equipments, to pronounce their intent, or unravel
any mystery their presence might suggest. The men were Americans,
in the sense of a Saxon origin, and were evidently Texan colonists,
in the verbiage of the Mexican federal statutes, which defined their
rights as well as their duties to the central government. They were
a hardy, careless-looking set, embracing all ages, from beardless youth
up to the years when the furrowed brow and sprinkled gray above the
temples tell that the vigor of manhood but resists the encroachment
of time. The pioneers of civilization, they descended a step or two
below its piano, from sheer gravitation towards the wilder influences
of i novel situation, devoid of many restraints imposed by social order.
r>-r
62 GUY RAYMOND.
The nearest fire, as Ilie camp would be approached from the south, was
surrounded by a party whose hilarity and occupations did not suggest
any great degree of gravity in the expedition that had called them
afield, or that apprehensions of a serious movement was in contem-
1 lation calculated to termination in disaster or dearly earned success.
Over the coal?, all aglow beside a fallen tree, hung two quarters and
a saddle of venison, which two men were tending, while a third,
wah-liing their operations, sat upon the im ignited portion of the
trunk. Near by, on the spread surface of a highly colored Mexican
blanket, four others were engaged at cards. From these came fre-
quent ejaculations, with occasional biu'sts of laughter.
"Don't you see that meat is burning on this side? Two cooks
for that little quantity of meat ouiiht to keep it from charring like
that."
"Why didn't you say it was burning sooner? You have been
sitting there on that log looking straight at it, and kept your mouth
shut," said one of the men who was tending the meat.
"It is something new r to charge Jones with keeping his mouth
shut." said the other cook.
"He /hasn't talked much since the elephant story," replied his
comrade.
"What elephant story?"
"That is a fact, Perry, you were on the scout the day Jones gave
us the elephant story."
"The last one I heard him tell was that one about fleas. He took
a big thing to lie about this time," said he who was addressed as Perry.
"Oh ! Jones believes in jumping from one extreme to the other,
tends to diversify his romancing."
"What in thunder could he have to say about elephants?"
"Why, he related that while he was in the service of the E
India Company, he was walking out one day in the jungles at the
foot of the Hymalayas, when ho came to a bridge crossing a river, and
while he was seated there, eight hundred elephants ran across it at
full speed."
"What a whopper!"
"Couldn't a man see elephants crossing a bridge?" asked Jones.
"I don't see anything very strange in that. I have heard you
w^orse yarns than that, Perry."
"Must have been a powerful bridge," said Perry. "Why, y
numskull! Don't you know that eight hundred soldiers crossing a
bridge without breaking step would shake it up. OJ' course you
stood there and counted the elephants. Why didn't you tell some-
>ry.
:
teli
vori
GUY RAYMOND. 03
more probable? Fir instance, that you saw that cow of yours,
which used to give two gallons of milk out of each teat, jump over
the moon."
"Oh, give him a rest. The boys rode him on a rail for telling
that elephant story."
"I don't ask you to plead for me, Mr. Tip Hamilton, and imiy
he you will he sorry yet for ihe part- you took in that same mil-riding."
"Oh, Oli! lie is threatening me, hoys. You simpleton, "i \\-\\*
Ducio who led the lynchers. 1 did the laughing; it excited my risi-
bility."
"And Mr. Ducio Halfen will have to settle for it," conl itmed
Jones, doggedly.
"The Jones is growing dangerous," said Hamilton. "He will
constitute a ] halanx when we join issue with the Mexican-. Here
comes Ducio and the noble Trigg. As I live! They lead a scion of
II ic Aztecs."
"They've got a Greaser," exclaimed several voices, as the party
rode info camp, the Mexican between them. A crowd soon gathered
about, ibe prisoner, who sat stolidly returning the glances of his cap-
tors while they indulged in a multitude of expressions and badinage,
in regard to himself and the cause he was presumed to represent.
"(Jcnls! Perhaps he is envoy extraordinary and minister pleni-_
potentiary from the veritable Sauty himself, oll'ering us the olive
branch, conditioned by our return to our homes," said Tip Hamilton.
"Tf he is a spy, the only branch we will have any use for is the
( 10 right over bis head," said another.
Mr. Trigg here interposed and directed the prisoner, who had
dismounted, to follow him.
The ca.j lure of a plain Mexican was no very important affair,
especially as in the present instance, the object of such sudden interest
\\as apparently a ranchero of the type and dress of an ordinary
herder. His appearance would have caused but little notice, bad not
a rumor gone the rounds, traceable to Ducio Halfen as authority, that
important documents had been found on the person of the fellow.
The men, grouped about, discussed ibe capture, a few following Mr.
Tri<r<r and bis charge towards the wall tent, where sal several men
who had been partaking of the evening meal. Tip Hamilton, in his
grandiloquent way, was entertaining quite a crowd and, by intimation
of a grave importance attached to the documents taken from the Mex-
ican, lent tenfold interest to the a (fair in the minds of his hearers
The truth was Tip knew no more than the reader of the prisoner or
of a n\ thing taken from his possession. He was a character that
64 * GUY RAYMOND.
stood boldly out in the individuality of the camp. He was large in
person, quite good looking, and seemed to be well informed on any
subject .that would arise in conversation with his fellows ; and was
inclined to so amplify as to exceed all reasonable bounds and draw
in matter far from germane to the original discussion, but so blender!
by graudal and insensible shades of differences,' as to render his digres-
sions pardonable if noticed at all. His pedantry, so manifest in his
language, would have elicited a contempt from the more intelligent
of his comrades, had it been severed from his inimitable manner and
facial expression.
To auditors not blessed beyond the rudiments which constitute an
avoidance of .illiteracy, Hamilton was so far a conundrum, as his
language would veil his meaning in mysteryy. He was an adventurer,
like many who bar! left their State behind, to seek in the new .fiolrl
the something that persistently refused to turn up, notwithstanding
long, patient days of waiting in the old haunts. His education was
due to a remarkable memory, more than to express application in hi?
school days, and he retained what had been acquired despite an indo-
lence only half overcome by parental injunction.
The world has many such. The Southern States had many ex-
amples of superficial acquirement, as was exemplified in Tipton Ham-
ilton. Perry, whom Jones had taunted with a possession of his own
infirmity, was not wholly guiltless. The advantage rested with the
former, inasmuch as he kept more or less within the bounds of
probability, while Jones, in his drafts upon the imagination, had no
thought of the result, which even a lax application of reason to hiss
statements would produce. Perry was a stripling, nearly of age,
brave when led. He was of a good Kentucky family which had sev-
eral sons in the colony all, like Perry, venturesome and marked by
characteristic generosity which this, the youngest scion, carried to
extremes. He would not have hesitated to bestow upon another the
only article or the last cent he possessed.
He of the vivid imagination was in citizenship cosmopolitan, by
his own testimony, but saw the light first under the cross of St.
George and by the comity of nations would be entitled to British
protection. No known portions of the globe that he, had not visited
or could not relate some story about. His penchant for ; n vent ion
had become a byword in the camp. Jones was held in special aversion
by Ducio Halfen on account of a yarn spun at the expense of the dark
Creoles, of whom the latter was a true type, in which the inference
to be drawn was that African blood was responsible for the hue of
their complexion.
GUY EAYMOND. 65
Dneio doubtless owed his color to the source indicated, as there
is an unnameable something which tells of the admixture in every
real instance. But that the blood of Ham courses in th3 veins of
all dark-skinned natives of French or Spanish colonies cannot be
granted, inasmuch as European contact with other dark races Las
left behind a progeny who claim the appellation "Creole." JJucio
may have been ignorant of the facts of his birth or family antece-
dents, or he may have chosen to deny a lineage, when to admit it
would have placed him under the social ban.' At any rate, he fiercely
resented the implication and vented his spleen by actively assisting
to ride hip. traducer on a rail.
Dueio Half en was a rascal, and his character was as wanting in
the elements of honor and honesty as his name was devoid )f euphony.
TTc had made his appearance in Texas in company with Familton and
together they had joined the volunteers previous to their coming to
the present camp on the Cibolo.
The momentary excitement caused by Mr. Trigg's arrival with
his prisoner subsided when the latter was dismissed from the head-
quarters under charge of the guard. Evening closed into darkness
broken here and there through the camp by the failing glow of the
fires. As the night grew apace, the sounds became fewer; the low
laugh and voices in conversational tones soon gave place to the sentry's
tramp, the neigh of a horse, or the march of a guard relief, and the
Toxan& slerrt.
,,
CHAPTER X.
ten Mr. Trigg brought his prisoner to that portion of the
camp where stood the tent, he found himself in the presence of the
party which had just finished their repast, and whose attention be-
came directed to him as lie approached with his charge.
"Who have we here, Mr. Trigg?" asked one of the party who
sat with his hands clasped in front of him, while the thumbs made
nervous revolutions around each other.
"We caught this Mexican about three miles below, on the creek,
and as he failed to satisfy me that lie was on right business, I brought
him to carnp. 'These letters were in a pocket sewed on the inside of
his shirt."
"A suspicious circumstance," said the other.
."That's what I thought, CJeiieral," replied Mr. Trigg, handing ihe
iHl.-rs to him he called (Jeneral. The latter took the documents and.
G6 GUY KAYMOND.
after looking at the address and the seals on the opposite sides, t\
one carelessly over to the man by his side, who read deliberately:
"Senor Edward Gritten, San Antonio de Bexar."
"What do you think of it, Fanning
"The name adds to the suspicion, but the contents will doubtless
explain everything."
"We will examine the contents after a while. I will interrogate
the fellow and hear what he has to say for himself."
"Mr. Trigg, bring your prisoner nearer, General Austin wan is
to question him," said Fannin.
The Mexican approached when ordered and the general, after a
i'r\v moment's consultation with Fannin, addressed him in Spanish.
"Where are you from ?"
"Casa Blanca."
"\Vliereis Casa Blanca ?"
"It is the rancho of Don Jnnn Seguin."
"How far is that from here?"
"About six leagues."
"Where did yon got this letter?"
"Don Juan gave it to me."
"For what purpose?"
"To give to some American who might be passing cast, to take
to the man to whom it is written."
"Did you have any particular business out here other than
delivery of this letter?"
"Si, senor."
"What was it?"
"Hunting two horses that have been missing."
"Why, Mr. Trigg, that's pretty straight/ Did he tell you
same story?"
"Yes, General, but this man is fixed up for the occasion. He
no ranchero."
"Open the letters, General, and then 1 will bo no need of moi
quesi inning," said Captain Fannin. "This fellow knows that Ju;
Segnin is a friend of our cause and his idea is that the seal of
private letter from him to that address will bo sacred to us. (Irition
is a suspected man and even if llicrc cxisied a strong probability that
Soguin is the sender of this letter, the gravitv of the present aspet
of affairs would warrant us to make ourselves acquainted with
contents."
"You are right. My idea was the same, but 1 preferred to ha 1
your expressed opinion, before acting in the matter."
GrY
So saving. General Austin broke the seal of one and then of
the other, and glancing along the lines, his expression scarcely
changed until every word had been scanned, when a light smile
played over his features, as he passed the papers to the other officer.
"Mr. Trigg, you will please see that this man is closely guarded."
Trigg was ahout to turn away with his Mexican, when the General
called.
"Hold! Did you find nothing else on the prisoner?"
"I did; this silver medal and beads were in his pocket."
"Just keep it, Mr. Trigg. It is of no importance."
M r. Trigg placed the trinket in his pockets and conducting the
Mexican to another part of the camp, turned him over to the guard.
When the two officers were left alone they entered the tent, where
Hie General carefully read over the letters; then, folding and placing
UKMM in his pocket, he remarked:
"This places Gritton where he properly belongs among our ene-
mies and his position emphasized by a stigma; for lie is really the
spv of the Mexicans."
"He must not be allowed to escape, but I fear it is too late to
apprehend him, as he was to have set out for the coast some time
I his week. I will write to San Filipe and if you will be good enough
in select a, reliable man from vour command as messenger, I will he
obliged."
"I have the very man in my mind, who will fill the bill," said
Captain Fannin, leaving the tent.
Stephen F. Austin had been encamped but a day or two on the
C bolo with his band of a few hundred Texans, when the rapture of
the Mexican by Mr. Trigg occurred. His presence with such a force
((institutes a page of Texas history and was a forerunner of tragic
scenes and deeds which, culminating at San Jacinto, made the name
<>!' Texan soldier the synonym of valor and the realization of reckless
daring. 'The reader will have recognized one of the letters whose
contents divided the detention of the Mexican, as the same which
Guy I'avmond found at the priest's house and returned to Senor
Gonzales, who had dropped it. The presence of the silver medal,
taken from the prisoner, will perhaps be made clear in the progress
of our story.
Austin /was waiting in his present position for reinforcement- and
supplies before making further movements inward the investment of
San Anionio, whew General Cos had arrived and was preparing for
igorous defense.
After Mr. Trigg had been relieved of the custody of Hie Mexican,
68 GUY RAYMOND.
he repaired to his mess with the intention to rest his limbs,, made
weary by a long day's scout. Trigg was a hale and hearty Irishman,
not more than fifty, and consequently in the prime of a sound man-
hood. He had seen service, however. What particular adventures
he had met with were not known to many, and perhaps to none of
his present comrades. He was rather reticent when the boys were
spinning yarns, although he had related some few tales of the sea,
which he seemed to have followed. In these stories, however, he would
not place himself as the hero, nor even as a witness, evading all
questions of his listeners as to his connection with the incidents
related. His mess had great respect for him, and always spoke of
him as Mr. Trigg.
The first three characters introduced to the reader as engaged in
conversation over the roasting venison belonged to his mess, as did
also Ducio Halfen. The latter was no favorite with him, although
he expressed his feelings no further than to repel any familiarity on
his part. For Jones he entertained a good-humored contempt, while
he was amused at Hamilton and liked Perry. The latter was awake
when Mr. Trigg sought his blanket, and tried to draw his friend out
on the subject of the capture; but his curiosity was good-naturedly
resisted, with an injunction to go to sleep and he would tell him the
whole story on the morrow.
"Don't be so curious, my boy; it's tired I am now, and talkh
will disturb our neighbors/'
"I just wanted to know something about the silver 'medal y(
found on him," pleaded Perry.
"Who was telling you?"
"Tip Hamilton saw you show it to General Austin."
"Tip is the devil's own; he is always knowing too much."
"He only said that he saw it."
"Well, it's only a medal of the Blessed Virgin hung to a string
beads."
"Which virgin is that, Mr. Trigg?"
"You young heathen! Not to know who the Blessed Virgin is.
Sure, she's the holy mother of the Saviour, and it's her picture thai
on the medal."
"What's the good of it, Mr. Trigg?"
"It's a keepsake, and if it is blessed by n priest, it is fine to w<
around your neck to keep harm away from a man."
"I never heard of that before," said Perry, wonderingly.
"Because it's a heathen you are."
At this point of the conversation, the tall, dark figure of a
in front of 11m (lying embers close at hand, and the voice
GUY HA YAK) \D. c.!)
of Captain Fannin called to fhe senior of the two, in an underiono:
"Is that you, Captain?"
"Mr. Trigg," responded the Captain, "I want young Perry to
go on courier duty at once. Where is he?"
"Eight here, sir," replied Perry, rising as he spoke. "Where am
I to be sent?" '
"You will get your instructions at headquarters. Come imme-
diately."
"All right, Captain," said Perry, "just as soon as I get my shoes
on."
"I wonder what they want me for?" he asked of Mr. Trigg, when
the Captain had disappeared.
"You will know soon enough, my boy."
When Perry was about to leave the other said to him :
"Perry, come back here before you leave camp. If it is going
where I think you are, I want to send a message by you."
Perry, stating that the nature of the duty awaiting him necessi-
tated his return to get his saddle, blanket and bridle, left to got his.
orders. When he entered the tent, the general and his subordinate
were sitting by a rough box, on which lay a package which the former
scaling with a piece of wax, ignited from a dim tallow candle
whose feeble light threw flitting shadows on the canvas. When he
had completed the operation he turned to the youth and asked:
"Are you well acquainted with the country between here and San
Filipe?" "
. "Every mile of it, sir."
"Got a pretty good horse?"
"He is a pony, but fat and well winded."
"When can you be in San Filipe?"
"It is one hundred and eighty miles."
"About well?"
"Uv changing horses once, in three days."
"Can you get a change?"
"I can at Season's, on Peach Creek."
"Take this package and deliver it to (iovornor Smith as soon as
yon can. Be discreet; fell nobody your business or destination."
"Can't I tell Mr. Trigg to what place I am going?"
"Tell no one/
"But
"Xo huts, sir! Captain, we have got hold of the wrong man."
"N r o! general/' rejoined Perrv, swelling up nf Mio refleciion. "If
orders not to toll, torture wniTf wring it from mo."
--.Mil thai sounds more like ii." Oneral Austin said. "Now, sir.
70 GUY RAYMOXD.
show what metal you are made of. Stay the countersign is 'VelascoV
Perry was rather mortified that he could not reveal to Mr. Trigg
his destination, as he understood that his friend wanted to send a
message by him, provided he was going to the right place. He was
rather moody, therefore, when he returned, and Mr. Trigg asked him
if he was to go to San Felipe.
"You must not be angry with me, Mr. Trigg. The general said
I could not even tell you."
"He is particular! Well, my boy, obey orders if it costs you
friends, and true friends won't be out with you long, when it is
found that you have done your duty."
"If you have anything to say to me I can listen to you, and if by
any chance it comes in my power to serve you while I am gone, I can
do so, no matter where I have been ordered to."
"Go fetch your horse, my boy, if it's to he quick you are, and I'll
study the matter over while you're gone."
While Perry was gone for his pony, Mr. Trigg rose and chunked
the fire, adding a few twigs to make it bla/e. Then unrolling an
extra blanket, which had been serving him for a pillow, be took from
the inside fold a small wallet fastened with strap and buckle. This
lie undid and drew forth some papers, which he inspected by the dim
firelight. Selecting one and laving it aside, be replaced the others,
and from another pocket took something, and holding it up for
moment's scrutiny, put it with the paper.
"I'll send it to the child and the good mother whose image
bears will take her under her protection while I am away."
He spoke the words in an undertone, as the medal with its string
of snowy heads was deposited with the letter, for such was tl
paper be had taken from the wallet. By a better light the h<
handwriting of the address would have disclosed the name of
"Stella Raymond."
Mr. Trigg, having replaced his roll of blanket, seated hiinsel
and leaned his bead forward on his hands above the glowing coals,
which seemed to invite him to rumination.
The consuming element at his feet, so typical of life in its
mutations, set him to musing. Perhaps he had. in youthful antici-
pation, felt the little flame of hope that began to grow in si/e and
hrigbtness as the kindling of ambition had been supplied to feed it
still higher. How it had increased to a vivid light, and then become
suddenly checked by the green, incombustible fuel of mistaken judg-
ment or misplaced confidence, and had shrunk away beneath the
fumes of disap) ointment, or the blinding smoke of despair. Often
by unremitting efforts the bla/e is re-established at the expense of
ITS.
.;
Grv
humid eyes and bitter experience^ resulting in the cheery glow, endur-
ing for a time, perhaps for a long period, then failing slowly, imper-
ceptibly, until the ruddy coal? have paled, and we think and wonder.
;,nd while yet we wonder the dying embers become cold, dead ashes.
Whatever may have been his reflections, Mr. Trigg gave vent to
an occasional sigh, as his gaze was riveted to the fire, and he re-
peal edly in u tiered to himself. He finally arose and peering through
the darkness, rendered more impenetrable from his long gaze at the
bright coal?, he said, half audibly:
"What can the youngster be after doing staying this long?"
Perry had been absent nearly an hour, and his friend had become
really anxious to know the cause of his delay, when the sounds of
horse's hoofs were followed by Hie appearance of the subject, of his
though is, mounted bare-back.
"I thought yon would stay the night out."
"I began to think that way myself/' said Perry. "My pony pulled
his stake, and F had to hunt for him among all the other horses. In
this darkness it was no easy matter, and he was a mile, nearly, from
where I left him."
"(let ready, my boy, and be oil'. There is a bit of broad and some
meat in the can. left over, which will keep you from hunger unlil
you can do better."
Perry, naturally active, stood ready for departure in a very few
minutes. He was examining the priming of his rifle, when the
attention of both was attracted by the sound of footfalls, as if some
one was cant iouslv moving towards them. After a hail from the older.
in a low tone of voice, the same sounds wore heard, as if some one
retreating, and Porrv was quite certain he distinguished the
lo 'in of a pel-son moving oil' in the direction whence he had jusi come.
"Mr. Trigg, I believe (hat was Ducio Halfen."
"Not from ihe looks of him. in this darkness/'
"No, sir, but, when I passed the lines, going for my pony, there
was no sentinel on post., at which I thought very strange. When I
came back I Miein challenged me and I gave him the countersign. Ho
pretended that I did not have the right one. and kept me several
minutes, and while detaining me, he did his best to find out what I
was up to. Of course, I could not toll him, and I believe he followed
me here t'o find out what I refused to toll."
-Was it him, that was off post?"
"Yes, for the relief wont 'round just before I loft here^ and the
round has not been made jet.' 3
"I'll -peak privately to the Captain and have the fellow watched.
It'- lilt le use I have for him."
Grv RAYMOND.
"Now. my boy." continued Mr. Trigg. "I don't ask where it is
vouVe going, and if I knew it, it would be safe in my breast. bu r I
more than suspect what you're going for, and want you to take thi<
note and this medal, and if San Felipe is the place, you can deliver
them to my little girl. It is only tonight that I thought about send-
ing it, and I said nothing about it in the note. Tell her to wear it
around her neck for the sake of her old friend, and the Blessed
Mother will be good to her, even if she don't belong to the Holy
Church, which is all the worse for her. I want her to send me an
answer by you. Perry, and, my boy, I want you to see her all you
can. and tell me all about her when you're back; do you mind?"
"Certainly. Mr. Trigg that is. if I go to San Filipe."
"Before you come back we will be after moving out of this to the
Salado or the San Antonio; and it is quite likely we will tackle the
( i reasers thereabouts."
"Good-bye. Mr. Trigg."
"Good luck to you. my boy."
"He's a bravo lad," mused Mr. Trigg. as Ferry disappeared. "If
he was of a more careful way and knew how to manage better for
himself, I'd like to see her take a fancy to the youngster. But P-MTV
would squander a million in a, month, and give away his soul for the
asking."
CHAPTER XI.
"Look, Stella! What a sunset!"
"Oh! Isn't it lovely?"
"Those blending of shades and colors are too artistic to appear
natural. It is a wonder we did not notice it in its earlier stages."
"For a very good reason. We were facing the east while sitting
under that tree, and I was so taken up arranging those grasses
I thought of nothing else."
The sunset was indeed beautiful. A broken cloud of clmco
hue stretched along the western horizon, touching the earth,
denser shades, while on its summit, in long-reaching fragments, di-
verging from a common center, lines of vapor reached the very zenith
ther side in strange regularity. The pern-Mings of the deeper shade
were lost insensibly B& they mounted the blue empyrean and mingled in
the fanciful shapes which lined the outer edges and reflected
golden background. Amber shreds, unravelled from the texture
iloating cloudlets, crossed blue patches, here and there disclosed, ill
gave place in>ensibly to crimson tints interspersed with threads <>\
gold. From below, in one grand blaze of beauty, shaming the r
GUY KAYMOND. 73
ance of Aurora, the great orb poured a flood of golden splendor ilia!
lent magnificence indescribable to the shifting foreground. The
western prairie glowed with the reflected hues from its patches of
gray and lingering green, interspersed with clusters of tall, rank
i' Hisses, whose yellow tufts nodded gracefully before the evening
breeze. Mottes of timber, some verdant in their perpetual evergreen,
some half denuded, half clad, in autumnal garb, filled the eastern
'view. One of these half concealed a house, built of logs and boards
rived with froe and maul from the native growth, and the remainder
of a fence whose zig-zag course stretched a half mile or so until
again lost in the chaparral.
The speakers, whose conversation commenced the present chapter,
were two females. One apparently in that indeterminate age that
defies conjecture, and the other, who was addressed as "Stella/' a giV!,
perhaps fourteen, of light build and of lithe and graceful form. Her
hare head disclosed a, wealth of golden hair. In her arms she carried
a collection of dry grasses, their fuzzy yellow and brown heads
arranged in bunches.
"Aunt Ida, there comes someone on horseback," said Stella, point-
ing a little to the right of the direction they had been facing.
"I see him," responded the other. "Now he is hid by that bunch
of small growth."
"There he is again," said Stella. "He is loping his pony."
"Suppose we go back towards the house. It may be a prowling
Mexican. If he is a friend he will doubtless stop at San Felipe over
night."
"I am quite certain it is not a Mexican; but we will not wait
hero if you think it better not to do so."
The horseman overtook them before the house was reached, and,
reining up his jaded pony, touched his hat respectfully.
"If I am not mistaken, the very lady I want to see," he said,
looking directly at Stella.
"Want to see me? Has anything hap ? Do you come from
Mr. Trigg?"
"I am not his messenger. Miss Stella, for I now recognize you ;
hut 1 have a letter I promised to deliver."
"T^o bad news. I hope. Is it from him?"
"Not a bit of bad news had he to write, rhat I know of. He was
well when I left him in camp, twelve miles this side of San Antonio.
e's the letter. I must see the Governor at once, and
"Haven't I seen you before sir?"
'Ton have," answered Perry, blushing under the coat of dust that
covered h; -'but I didn't expect you to recognize me in this fix."
74 (irv RAYMOND.
"But I can't reim-mber your name."
"Asbury Terry,' as you heard Mr. Trigg call me. I was
him when he last parted from yon."
"I remember you now/" Stella said, coloring slightly at the recol-
lection of a little pleasantry of her guardian on that occasion, en-
joining Perry to not fall in love with her.
"This is my Aunt Ida."
Perry's bowed acknowledgment of the honor of the introduction
over, he touched his hat rather awkwardly and turned his pony's
head down an open lane which their present location disclosed and
on which fronted three or four houses, similar in appearance to the
one heretofore described, constituting the remainder of the settle-
ment of San Felipe. To one of these Perry made his way to deliver
the dispatches entrusted to him on leaving the Cibolo.
Stella did not wait until she gained the house before opening her
letter, and soon after the messenger had left, was deep in its contents.
Her Aunt Ida, as she had just denominated her companion, quietly
seated herself on one of the blocks composing the steps of the stile in
front of the dwelling and awaited the conclusion of her reading.
"Well, what news, Stella?" she asked, as the letter was dropped
from before the girl's face, disclosing a troubled look.
"Mr. Trigg says I am to go to New Orleans to school."
"That is not such bad news."
"No."
"Then why your serious look? 1 '
. "He wants rne to go to a convent."
"I suppose he hopes to convert you to his religion."
"No, I think not. At least, lie does not want to influence
although he would like me to become a Catholic."
"In a convent you would be sure to have influence enough."
"I would not mind any influence (hey could bring to hear on n
I am strong enough in my father's opinions to be proof against any-
thing that would not be for my good."
"I know very little of them, but have always heard that the mi
were very pious and good women. When are you to start?"
"Here is the letter. See what you think of it all."
Mr. Trigg, who had constituted himself the guardian of Sle!
Raymond ever since the massacre on the Salado, had written to his
ward quite a lengthy letter, for him, in which he detailed his plans
for her future. He wrote that he intended to prove a guardian
worth having; that he was possessed of ample means in give her an
education worthy of her superior and lamented father, and being
GUY RAYMOND. 75
determined to remain with the volunteers until the approaching con-
flict with Mexico would terminate., as he hoped, in success to the
colonists, lie had decided that she should accompany her aunt on
her return to Mississippi. Tho latter was to leave her in a convent
in Ne\v Orleans, where it was his wish for her to remain until the
compleiioii of her education. Tie had forwarded a letter of credit
in \c\v Orleans for her benefit ; also a communication to the Mother
Superior of the Convent of the Sacred Heart, with whom he was
personal I v acquainted. Stella had become very fond of the man who
had protected tier ever since that fearful dav when she had fallen,
terror-stricken at the sight of the Indians surrounding- her burning
home.
The letter, sent by Perry, contained the first intimation that her
benefactor was the possessor of means sufficient to educate her at a
boarding school, and while disappointed in the location of the latter,
she was prepared io obey him in every particular. Her father had taken
a liking to the rough Irishman, whom he had first met at the head-
quarters of the colony, and who had accompanied him to the beauti-
ful, hut ill-fated spot on the Salado. She had heard it stated that
Mr. Trigg had invested in land to an extent that had rendered him
impecunious and had necessitated a resort to manual labor to secure
the means for a livelihood. Hence the reader found him at work
for Paul "Raymond at the opening of this story.
AVhen her aunt had finished reading the letter she remarked to
Stella, that she deemed her to be most forunate to be able to escape
from a country so rough and go to a metropolis celebrated for its
weilth. refinement and gaiety.
"But I shall carry with me the heaviest of hearts, for then all
hope of ever seeing poor dear Guy again will be shut out forever."
"You are wrong there, my dear child. Tf your brother is living
he will know your whereabouts from friends here and will not fail to
join you."
tv i\lr. Trigg has always said that he was positive of his having
been iaken captive, and was equally sure that he would, some day,
escape. But I have suspected that his words were intended to calm
my fears for my brother's safety."
Stella's trembling voice and brimming eyes brought silence to the
two. A few moments sufficed to bring, crowding in masses, the
incidents of years, as her busy mind and sorrowing heart actively
took in the past, now that distance threatened to postpone the hope
of meeting with her brother.
Her averted face concealed the emotion from her aunt, who sat
76 GUY EAYMOND.
humming a low air, as was her custom when occupied with the solu-
tion of a question. She was thinking of Stella's destination and of
what a splendid opportunity her neice would have in the great city
of making a fine matrimonial match; not only on account of her
beauty, which it was apparent would become greatly enhanced as she
would approach maturity and blossom into perfect womanhood. Then,
the letter in her hand certainly stated that the self-constituted guar-
dian had means which, if not sufficient to make his ward an heiress of
importance, would place her in an enviable position of independence.
She somewhat impatiently remembered that Mr. Trigg had decided
on a convent. Of all places a convent was the least calculated to
produce a "showy" girl, one calculated to take in society at the mo-
ment of her debut.
Stella's aunt was a woman of the world; had blossomed from a
fashionable boarding school and remembered well the contrast between
her own powers of attraction and the quiet demeanor and subdued
manners of one of her contemporaries who had emerged from the
precincts of a convent. She could not account for the stupidity of
people who failed to profit by experience in such matters.
The lady's reverie was arrested by the reappearance of Perry,
who had almost joined them in the fading twilight, without having
been perceived. He was afoot and without a coat.
"Why, Mr. Asbury! You performed your mission in a hurry.
Have you gotten through with the Governor already?" asked the lady.
"He was not at home. He went with a party across the river and
has not yet returned. I hastened back to bring this, which I forgot
to deliver with the letter."
Perry held up the medal as he spoke and placed the trinket in
the hands of Stella.
The latter examined it in surprise and gave Perry a look of
inquiry.
"He said for you to wear it, Miss Stella. It is something t'
belongs to his religion, and he believes it will keep one from harm."
"Such superstition!" exclaimed the lady.
"I wore it inside my coat until I gave it away, and then I placed
it in the pocket of my waistcoat. I had the medal convenient and m
case of danger would have tried what virtue there was in it."
"It is a medal of the Virgin," said Stella, examining it closely
in the dim light. }
"And I suppose you are quite ready to accept all the t\vad<ilo
about the efficiency of these medals as a prelude to you conversion fit
tin- Sacred I [cart," said her aunt.
GUY RAYMOND. 77
"Let us go in to the light and examine it, Auntie. Mr. Trigg
can believe what he pleases. I will preserve it as a curiosity."
The party ascended the steps to the hall, turned to the left and
enterd a room in the middle of which stood a table, spread for a
meal. Plain, rawhide-bottomed chairs composed the rest of its fur-
niture,, while a bright light shone from the tall chimney-piece at
the further end. Stella, after examining the medal and its .string
of beadwork, expressed her satisfaction by putting the latter over
her head with the former pendant on her breast.
The appearance of the hostess called their attention to the supper
table, on which she was placing dishes, their tempting odors filling
the apartment and whetting the appetite of Perry, whose ride had
prepared him to do justice to his next meal. Eecognizing the latter
when she entered, the landlady invited him to remain to supper.
"I did not expect to stay to supper, Mrs. Morgan," said Perry.
"I returned to bring Miss Stella, this medal, and am without a coat.
Going to table withoi , a, coat will make no difference at the tavern,
but here "
"Oh, that will make no difference with us either. You are a
soldier-boy now, and they are not always expected to have coats."
"I believe Mr. Asbury did say that he had given his coat away,
before we came indoors," said Stella, giving him a side look of inquiry.
"Perhaps that involves a story. Come, Mr. Perry, have you been
phiying good Samaritan?" asked the aunt.
"I met a poor fellow who was sick and shirtless, except a tattered
rag over his shoulders, and I gave him my Coat. A sudden norther,
in his fix, would have settled him."
"Such an act entitled YOU to dine with princes in your shirt
sleeves, my good boy, and always bo smv of your welcome here,*' said
the hostess.
CHAPTER XII.
The next morning's sun had peeped above the landscape and sent
his beams stealthily through the crevices of Stella's apartment, rosiing
on the coverlet of her bed or dancing on the opposite wall, as the
mellow light was swayed by the movements of the window curia in.
fluttering in the breeze that poured through under the slightly raised
sash. A golden beam kissed her^ cheek and forehead, then stealing to
her eyelids, woke her suddenly. Half rising, she looked around with
a startled expression, then sinking again to her pillow, she said:
"Oh ! I was dreaming."
"What dreaming about, Stella?" asked her aunt, whose bed r-he
shared.
78 GUY EAYMOND.
"About my brother Guy. I dreamed the Indians had him boun:!,
ready to burn. I saw the lighted pile on which he was to suiter.
Suddenly a girl, with wings like angels are pictured to wear, came
and hung about his neck the medal that Perry brought. Instantly
his hands became free and he defied his persecutors, and while th
Indians stood around dismayed, the girl took him under her pro
tion and the two seemed to rise gradually in the air, until their di
taut forms became blended with the clouds."
"The medal was filling your mind when you went to sleep; hence
your dream."
"It was my brother rather, of whom I was thinking. I always
think of him when I lie down at night,"
Stella's aunt was such by affinity only. She had married the
brother of Paul Eaymond, a wealthy speculator of Mississippi, who
had died and left his widow, Ida Eaymond, the possessor of ample
means. She was a woman of gay disposition and mourned her hus-
band but a short time. Handsome, childless and wealthy,, she had
received much attention in a society upon which she was unsparing
of her smiles and means. News of Paul Eaymond's fate had reached
her and anxious for the safety of the sole surviving daughter of her
husband's brother, she had accompanied her own brother, Clarence
Lambert, to Texas a short time previous to her introduction to the
reader.
"When will Uncle Clarence return, Auntie?" asked Stella, as she,
already dressed, sat watching her aunt doing up her toilet at the
ten-by-twelve looking-glass suspended to the wall.
"The Lord only knows, child. He is perfectly infatuated with
this wild country and will never stop until he has traversed every foot
of its soil. It's terrible to have to make one's toilet in such a
hovel ! Just contrast this wretched little glass with my full-length
mirror !"
"I do wish Uncle Clarance would come back. If I have to
it is better to have it over with."
"We won't wait for him if he is not here to return by the schooner
that brought the volunteers bless me! What a glass to dress by."
"If you go by the schooner, Auntie, it will be well to get ready, fo
I heard she will sail right soon."
"The Governor is to let me know, child. He will send a special
messenger to New Orleans on her there! I've got those eyebrows
smoothed to suit me at last. What a relief it will be to get back to
UK- comforts of civilization."
"And a uuod mirror," su<juvsi<><] Stella, laughing.
Guv "RAYMOND. 7!)
"Yes, a good mirror," returned her aunt, with a half reproachful
tone and look, which betrayed a suspicion that Stella's remark and
manner contained a reflection upon her excessive primping.
"Would Uncle Clarance like it if we were to go without him ? v
"I could not help his likes. He has no business to be gone so
long. He came to invest in land, and it seems he is so hard to
please that he must ride over half a continent to suit himself in a
few thousand acres. The Governor told the simpleton thai the lirazos
lands were the finest in the country."
"I do liope the Indians won't hurt Uncle Clarance."
"It would serve him half right to meet with some misadventure
I declare! Your collar is all awry, my child. Fix it and let us ><-.
out to breakfast."
"So ii, is," said Stella, going over to the little glass. "You know,
Auntie, you monopolized the mirror, and I had to primp without one."
"That's a great mirror! Don't forget to write your letter to Mr.
Trigg this morning so that man can take it back with him. And
YOU had better ask him to change his mind about putting you in a
(on vent, if you ever want to have any accomplishments. They do
not know how to teach music, and a girl is so cut ofT from ihe world
that she does not know how to act or make a good appearance in
society. If you want to be a religieuse, why a convent is the place
lor you, for religion enters into two-thirds of their curriculum. Have
I loo much powder on my face?"
Stella replied to her aunt's question in the negative, without tak-
ing psiins (o examine for any superfluity of powder and, opening the
door leading out of the bedroom ihe two proceeded to join Ihe hostess.
The morning had progressed apace when Stella had procured
paper, pen and ink to write a Idler to Mr. Trigg. She repaired to
the bedroom occupied by herself and aunt and closed the door for
privacy.
Seated by a little table at; a window she heaved a deep sigh as
;; prelude to the I'd lee (ion that her contemplated communication
would be a difficult one" to compose, if she desired to especially please
her guardian. She had never written many letters, and she tapped
her penholder on the windowsill for many minutes while she gazed
abstradedlv out upon the open prairie before she turned finally to
her task.
Stella wrote for a. long time, frequently correcting and interlining,
until six; had covered a. good deal of paper. Looking up with a sigh
of relief, she said, just audibly:
'Til read it, over and then copy it in a nicer hand."
80 GUY EAYMOND.
While Stella is reading over her production, we will glance over
her shoulder and glean the contents.
"My Dear My Trigg:
"Mr. Perry brought me your letter and I was so glad to hear
that you were well. The roads were so terribly dusty and Mr. Perry
was so covered with dust, that at first I did not know him. He knew
me right away. When we met him Aunt Ida and I were out walking
and saw him coming a long way off. We gathered some beautiful
long grasses which Auntie will take home with her and put in her
parlor vases. I am ever so much obliged for your kind intentions
towards me. I have heard a great deal about convents much against
them and much in their favor. You know my father was what they
call an infidel. He did not believe that God had ever established
any of the religions of the world. He always claimed that his
religion 'duty to his fellowman/ was all sufficient. But my father
always had great respect for the Catholic sisters in and out of con-
vents, and gave them great credit for devotion to their ideas of duty.
Between you and me, Aunt Ida has not much idea of convent
education. She thinks that girls are kept too much in seclusion
while being prepared to take a part in the affairs of life, and are
little more than mummies when they leave school. But Auntie is
all for society and dress, .and is as particular in Tier toilet out here
as she would be in a city. My own opinion is that of my poor, dear
mother that girls soon enough learn the arts of society after they
finish their studies. I then have no objection, and feel that I have
no right to express one, to do just as you desire me to do.
As Auntie has tired of this place, she has made up her mind to
go home right away, by the schooner that landed the New Orleans
volunteers at Velasco. So I will soon be off 1<> school and leave you
in this wild country with a cloud of war hanging over it. Oh ! You
have no idea how my heart aches when I think of turning my back-
on the graves of my dear parents. And my dear Guy ! Where is he ?
He, too, may be dead. If not, his life may be wretched as a captive.
Do try, my dear Mr. Trigg, to learn something of his fate. News
came to us today that a company of settlers had pursued a band of
the same Indians who destroyed our family, on a late raid on the
Colorado, and that the Texans had killed' their chief and burned
their villages on the San Saba. It may be I hat ihe men who were
in this expedition learned something of my brother. I believe if it
is in your power you will find out whether he is dead or alive.
"Mr. Perry will take this to you. The poor fellow has no coat,
scri
ma<
see
GUY RAYMOND. 81
having given his away to one in need. My aunt brought a suit for
poor, clear Guy and I mean to give it to Mr. Perry. 'Pake good
of yourself, Mr. Trigg. If you should get killed by those l.crriblc
Mexicans, what would become of poor me? I hope you will write io
me whenever you have a chance. Good-bye. Your little friend,
Stella Kay mon d.
P. $. I knitted you two pairs of socks which Mr. P. will give you.
AY hen Stella had copied her letter nicely and had added the posl-
ript, it was nearly noon and she could hear the preparations being
ade to serve the midday meal. Mrs. "Raymond had been over to
the Governor, in regard io the day set for th<> sailing of the
schooner, and had remained to chat with the family, as was her ous-
m whenever she visited the executive mansion.
Mrs. Morgan came in to call Stella, to dinner and to ask if her
unt had expected to return in time for the meal.
It was an hour or two after noon before Mrs. Kaymond returned,
d with her came Perry, leading his pony, prepared for his return
p to the Cibolo.
Stella had her letter in readiness, and in a neat bundle she had
laced the suit of clothes, which were intended for her brother, to-
ther with the socks she had so thoughtfully made for Mr. Trig.u.
'erry entered with the lady to tell those in the house good-bye and
ceive whatever messages Stella might wish to send.
"You did not make a very long stay, Perry/' said Mrs. Morgan.
"I hadn't the say-so, ma'am. When we get orders we have to
ight or day, rain or shine."
" Won't you sit down awhile?"
"No, I thank you, Mrs. Morgan. My orders are to lose no time,
d my dispatches are, no doubt, very important."
"Well, here's a little lunch for you, Perry. I thought you
ould not get much to eat on the road."
"And here," said Stella, "is my letter to Mr. Trigg. Tell him
1 about us and give him my love. Mr. Perry, it is said that he
who casts his bread upon the waters will find it after many days.
Iiis is said to mean that whoever helps those in need will himself be
Iped in turn. Here is a suit of clothes intended for my dear, lost.
other, which I ask you to accept. You have earned it by your kind
t in parting with perhaps your only coat."
"Have you forgotten Mr. Trigg's socks?" asked her Hunt.
"I came near forgetting to mention them. They are in the bundle,
r. IVrry."
8% GUY KAYMOND.
Perry, who had experienced a choking sensation at 'the kindn
showered upon him, had a little difficulty in enunciating words o
thanks. He had really parted with his only coat, and felt more
gratitude than he expressed.
"You all are kinder to me than I deserve, Miss Stella. I can nev
forget you."
After the good-byes had been spoken the young man bowed his
wav out and was soon upon his pony, and with the Indies' donations
secured behind his siddle, he galloped down the road, turning occasion-
ally to give an answering salute to the handkerchiefs waving the
ladies' adieux.
"Stella! Do you know we have to get ready this afternoon to
leave for Velasco in the morning?' 1 said her aunt, leading the way
to their room.
"How should I have known it, Auntie? This is the first I have
heard of it."
"Mr. Trigg should have known it," said her aunt, "and I ought
to have told Perry. T wanted to see your letter. Those ladies would
make me stay to dinner. What did you write about?"
"I wrote so many things, I cannot remember all. I mentioned
we were to start very soon to take the schooner for New Orleans."
"That will be notice enough. Now, child, let us get our things
ready and have it over with. T do hate to bo rushed at the last
minute. Your Uncle Clarence should be here. He has run craxy ov<
Texas lands. T will leave a letter for him with Mrs. Morgan."
"What are we going in, Auntie, from here to the coast?"
"Oh ! The Governor has put his ambulance at our disposal," sh
said gaily. Then, going to the wretched little glass and scannin
her face for a moment, she enquired of her neice :
"Stella, does my complexion look as well as when I first cam
here?"
"It looks the same to me, Auntie."
The next morning the Governor's ambulance was at Mrs. 'Mor-
gan's betimes, and found the travelers ready for the trip. The strong,
fat mules and commodious vehicle promised them a safe and speedy
transit to their destination. With a Godspeed, wo will cast an old
shoe after them and drop the curtain, for the present, on that part of
our narrative connected with their after movements.
ire
:
.10
Gi;y RAYMOND. s:>
CHAPTER XIII.
The morning that Mrs. Iiaymond and Stella left for Velasco, the
camp of the Texans on the Cibola was astir with preparations to
march. The large tent was struck and rolled, ready for deposit in
one of the wagons. The men were variously engaged. Some were
saddling horses, while others who had already arranged their i rap-
ings were securing blankets and clothing to their saddles, preparatory
ounting.
The dismounted troops were busy placing their light traps in the
n&, and examining their guns and ammunition.
The contemplated movement must have been welcomed by the
army, for the air resounded with the men's merriment as jest and
repartee were exchanged, or a snatch of song rang out in a well-
turned voice, or some adept at whistling imitated the sharp notes of
a fife. In the midst of it all, grouped in deliberation, were noted
men whose names were to go into history, as the redeemers of an
empire or martyrs to its liberation. The well known person of Austin
and the commanding form of Houston were conspicuous near the
trunk of a majestic pecan whose branches covered the party, while
near, paying respectful attention to their conversation, were mem-
bers of the consultation and officers of the command. Here Fannin
stood with folded arms and nervous look, little dreaming of the mar-
tyrdom he was so soon to suffer for the cause he had espoused. There,
near, him, reclined Bowie, silent, save when addressed, to make some
1 iconic answer, with the veiled future pregnant with the fame of the
tn Alamo,
t was Austin who spoke :
| am perplexed with this delay of the promised reinforcements.
blame may lie at my door, llirmigli my lack of military experi-
and those powers to organize and conduct a campaign so essential
to a soldier in command."
"You have left nothing undone to arouse the country and con-
centrate your force," replied General Houston.
"But I feel my lack of experience in the field, and would much
prefer position in the council, or a mission for assistance to the
States. In either capacity I would be useful. As commander in
chief, one mistake may work irreparable injury to our cause. Gen-
II Ion-ton, yini should command here."
'No, Austin! The army I found here had chosen you for their
84 GUY RAYMOND.
leader; any change now, may tend to dissatisfaction 'that would be
more fatal than the grossest error of a commander."
"But fully one-half of these troops are from the East, and carne
here under your recognized authority. You have had experience as
a volunter commander and possess great influence over men. These
two facts point to you, of all men here, as best fitted to lead us."
"No arguments yon can make, General Austin, will change
my determination. T will only take command by your orders," re-
pi iod Houston, firmly.
Austin, after a moment's reflection, in which his face wore a
troubled expression, turned to the several officers and gave orders for
the immediate marching of the command. He designated Fannin's
company to lead the movement, the direction of the march to be taken
from the guide who would ride with its commander.
The orders of the chief were obeyed with alacrity. The head of
the column crossed the stream, and the Texans were on their way for
the Salado creek. The mounted men, who comprised about one-
sixth of the troops, were divided into three divisions, one to act as
advance guard, another to bring up the rear, and the third were
thrown out to the right, as flankers, to examine the country towards
San Antonio. Among these latter it was the fortune of Mr. Trigg
and his mess to be numbered. Captain Bowie, who was in command
of the flankers, was instructed to cross the Salado within four miles
of the town, and to scout the country thence to the San Antonio
river, with the view of detecting the proson> of any force which
the enemy might have pushed forward to anticipate the pendii
movement of the Texans.
After a trot of some five or six miles the crossing indicated w; s
reached, and the party filed down the steep embankment to the gravelly
stream that ran swift and shallow where it crossed the road they were
pursuing.
"Halt, men ! You may dismount here for a little while. I will
go to that hill yonder and take a survey of the country towards town.
Henry Karnes, I want you to go with me."
So saying, Captain Bowie rode off at a brisk pace towards the
elevation he had indicated, followed by Karnes, who was one of his
most trusted and faithful men.
"We might as well act on the Captain's suggestion, Mr. Trigg,
and get down and rest our nags," said Tip Hamilton. "This is a
pretty little stream here. If I had a little more time and a propitious
muse, I believe I could indite a little verse on its beauties."
"You won't have any use for verses and such like, I'm thinking.
GUY EAYMOND. 85
We are pretty near the Greasers now, and no telling what hot work
is waiting for us. You call this a pretty stream! You should sec il
above here, at the forks, where those Indian devils destroyed the
home of Mr. Eaymond, who I was telling- ye about."
"The father of the little girl to whom you wrote the other day?"
asked Tip.
"The very same. But she's not so little. She's over fifteen. It
makes me sad to think of the work of those murderin' Indians."
"Did yon not say that she had a brother of whose fate you were
uncertain ?"
"I did. Poor Guy ! He was as fine a lad as ever lived. I wonder
t ever came of him," said Mr. Trigg, in a sad tone.
"Guy E-a-y-m-o-n-d !" pronounced Hamilton, musingly. "It is a
;ty name and sounds more musical than Tiptou Hamilton."
"It is a, wonder that you would acknowledge it! You are so
stedly conceited," said Jones, who had come near 'and heard the
last of the conversation between Mr. Trigg and Hamilton.
"Conceited, say yon? You knight of commonplace romance! You
champion prevaricator! Yon brazen narrator of the impossible, the
impracticable, the incredible! You hero of the wonderful bridge and
eight hundred elephants! You
"What in the d 1 are you up to. Tip?" asked Ducio Halfen,
>roaching.
"Apostrophizing Jones."
' Apostrophizing him?"
"Yes, he belongs to the supernatural."
"He is good natural, that's sure," said Ducio.
"If I wasn't, you'd both been dead men before now. My patience
I't always last, however."
"Well, Jones," said Hamilton, "wiih all your faults you have but
serious one, and if vmi don'l want to be the butt of the camp, just
take my advice on one point."
"And what is that?" asked the victim.
"Stop lying."
"Here comes the Captain back. 1 wonder if he has_ spied the
isers," said one of the men.
"They can't be coming this way, if he did, the slow way he's
ing," said another.
"I don't b'lieve Jim Bowie would run from fifty Mexicans," said
first speaker.
"Neither would Karncs. He's an nlo Indjun hVhtcr. Up to ther
id of the Trinity once, me and Karnes and two other fellers kept
UY .RAYMOND.
forty or more Injuns off untell night come, and we 'scaped down
the river in a dug-out. He's all grit, he is."
This was said in a drawling tone, by a tall, lank individual, who
Deemed to he all hones and muscle, whose attenuated form would have
.furnished an uncertain mark for shaft or bullet. His appearance
afforded an opportunity for the exercise of Hamilton's wit.
"I can understand the risk run by Mr. Karnes, and perhaps by the
other two on the critical occasion you mention, but, my dear sir, you
certainly could have entertained slight apprehensions of any contact
by your attenuated anatomy with the missiles of the dusky lords of
the prairie."
Hamilton's sally, not comprehended by the backwoods man, caused
a laugh among some of the bystanders, among whom was Ducio.
The lean individual looked from one to another for a moment,
then, comprehending that something had been said at his expense,
he clubbed his gun in a menacing manner and addressed himself In
the Mississippi man:
"See here, my frien,' I don't know nuthin' about you, and still
less about yer talk, but if yer got anything ag'in Nathan 'Roach why,
jos' sail in an' I'll show yer that you ain't no more'n nuthin' you
game niakin/ stuck-up counter-hopper w-h-o-o-p !"
Mr. Eoach, as he gave a regular Indian warwhoop, circled his
clubbed gun and cleared a ring in a second.
The presence of the Capain and Karnes at this moment put a
stop to further demonstrations.
"What's the matter, Nathe?" asked his companion of the Trinity
fight.
"A little trifle, Karnes; not enough to make a feller rale mad. 1
was jcs' a-showiii' a counter-hopper a flourish or two. It take- a
man to rile Nathan Roach."
Hamilton was amused at the fellow V language and capers, and
half put out at his offensive estimation of himself, liul he con-
cluded he had got hold of a bad subject for ridicule, and that the
I test way would be to smoothe over what had occurred.
"Here's my hand, Mr. Eoach. I did not mean any ill ing by my
incomprehensible jargon. You are true grit, and I want you to save
it all for use right along side of me when w r e jump the Mexicans.
My name is Hamilton."
"All right, Mr. Hamilton; you know how to talk sensible like
when yer \v;mis to. i< A J' yer know me long yell find it lioap safer
to have Nathan Roach's good-will than to make n enemy oiitVn him."
The Captain's voice, calling the men to mount, cut short the
discussion, and the saddles were soon filled.
GUY .RAYMOND.
Bowie directed Karnes to select six men and to proceed at once
on the duty to which lie had assigned him. As the latter
along the line, several signified a willingness to volunteer, but
Karnes stated that' he wanted good horses as well as good men.
Ho told them he knew all the riders were fearless, but that some
of iho horses were poor. The detail was at length complete. Among
those sekvied, live are already known 1o I In- render. Mr. Trigg was
tak< v n first, as his animal was the best in the command. Then came
Tip Hamilton, Nathan Roach, .Jones and Ducin Hal fen, in ihe
order named. The sixth and last man belonged t'o that large
family whose name is cosmopolitan. TTis name was John Smith.
Jones was a little miffed at not being selected first, on the score of
horseflesh, as he had the pedigree of his charger in a memorandum
book and had regaled his messmates on his merits over many a
camp fire.
Karnes drew lik- men aside and ordered them to dismount, while
the main body, under the lead of I heir commander, filed awav and
proceeded down the right bank of the stream. When the last
trooper had disappeared over a rise; in the rolling country Karnes said
to his men:
"Boys, we've got to scout right into San Antone, almost. We've
got to go to the powder house, anyhow, unless we meet a force.
After we^get there, I will be guided by circumstances."
''Hurrah !" cried Hamilton, "we'll have a little excitement, if
nothing else."
''How many of you have ever been in San Antone?" asked
Karnes.
No one responded in the affirmative. Mr. Trigg had not an-
swered. Finally he said:
"I was there once, but it was a long time ago."
Karnes then had an inspection of the ammunition and the pieces
of I 10 men. Finding everything in good order and condition, he
gave the word to move, and his little squad were soon on the road
leading to the city of the Alamo. As they reached the summit of
the first rise, at a distance of about a thousand yards from the creek,
the white top of the powder house revealed itself just peeping over
the inesquite growth, which crowned the brow- of the intervening
hills. Awav to the right was the line of timber bordering the San
Antonio and its tributary, the Olmos, a beautiful stream whose
pellucid waters largely supplied the former's volume. Thi> fringe of
wood, seeming to -l;irt the blue hills that; were in fact many miles
beyond, Insi itself behind the rising foreground that alone -shut out
a view of ihe white walls of Bexar.
RAYMOND.
Karnes rode oft' a few yards and placed himself on a knoll s
what more elevated than the road, and slowly swept the country wit
a small glass which he drew from his pocket. His view was take
to the southwest and south, then, passing the latter point, he turne
the glass slowly eastward, and remarked to l-lir men who had gat!, civ
around him:
"There is the main command. You can see the dust with th
naked eye. They are making for the mouth of the Salado."
"Can you see the Captain and our other boys?" asked Hamiltoi
"It don't take a glass to see them," said Mr. Trigg. "Look thercl
way to the southwest no they couldn't a-got that far."
Karnes turned his glass in the direction indicated.
"They are Mexican cavalry, Mr. Trigg! They are a long way ofl
but may see us, if they are using a glass. Get back to the road
boys, and we'll keep on to the powder house."
A half mile, and the latter showed more than half its white lime
stone masonry to the scouters, now in-own more cautious in tliei
movements. Karnes halted them and ordered all to leave the roa(
and dismount in the chaparral.
This disposition made, he nodded to Nathan "Roach :
"Nathe," he said, "I want you to come with mo afoot until w<
can see every inch of that powder house. T don't want any shootinj
unless we're obliged to. Maybe there's nobody there."
"All right, Karnes. I'd tike to draw a bead today on a. Greaser,'
said Nathan, following the other.
They moved off through the mesquite bushes, watched by tliei
comrades until lost in the foliage.
Up over a hill or two, with here and there an open glade tc
pass, the frontiersmen pushed stealthily along until they reached
the brow of the tableland on which stood the object of their np
proach. The powder house was built of white limestone and rose
with nearly perpendicular walls slightly converging at the top, tr
a height of about forty feet from its foundation. It was built prob
ably for the purpose disclosed by its name, and partly to answer foi
a lookout to detect the presence of Indians or enemies of an>
description. A door on the northern face of the building was the
sole entrance and each side, near the top, was pierced by a -mal
window.
Our adventurers found themselves in a dens* 1 growth, which inadi
an oblong circuit of the opening whore towered the structure. Tho\
crawled to its edge and peered through into the open space. Tin
door of the house was open and before it stood a .-tack of
GUY KAYMOND. 89
Just, wit li in could be seen several Mexicans seated and apparently
playing cards. Another came lazily around the northwest corner,
rolling a cigarette. He stopped at the door, said something to the
others which caused a laugh, took punk and steel from his pocket
and procuring a light, began to smoke.
"Golly ! What a shot I could make," said Nathan Eoach.
The Mexican looked suddenly in their direction.
"Hush talking so loud, Nathe. Looked as if that fellow heard
you/' said Karnes.
The smoker entered the house, and could he seen to mount the
stairs, the foot of which was immediately at the right of the door.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight," counted Karncs.
"Light muskets in that stack. Reckon that's their number.
'Look, Karnes, that fellow is spying the country/'
The Mexican was at the oast window and, leaning; out, looked
earnestly to the eastward; then gradually swept the horizon to the
southeast.
"Golly! Couldn't I fetch him from that- hole," said Eoach,
drawing a bead.
"Behave, Nathe! You're acting 1.1 10 plum fool. I want to bag
them Greasers. Go back and bring up the boys. Let 'em draw
straws so as to see who will have to stay and hold the horses. Let
'em come mounted 'round that first hill and leave the nags in that
ravine we crossed. It is too far to leave 'em at the place where
are now."
"All right, Karnes. Won't he gone long," said the other, moving
off with his long back in a horizontal position.
Karnes amused himself watching the unsuspecting enemy. The
Alcxic; n had quit the window and reappeared below. The bells in
town announced the hour. It was noon.
CHAPTER, XIV.
()u iie. opposite ihc cathedral of San lu-rnando, running as nearly
as a conformance with the winding river would permit, a
short street opened, ending at the extremity of the peninsula through
which ran the parallel and principal avenue of the town. The latter
known as "Calle Principal." The short street was named "Callo
de Cared."
pedestrian would leisurely turn into the Calle de Cared from
the nijiin pla/a, he would sec a very narrow street, wide enough l<>
(irv RAYMOND.
allow two vehicles to pass each other, provided the drivers would be
careful and in full sympathy with the universal custom which gov-
erns the choice of sides to take. On either side of the narrow way.
abutting on the sidewalks, extended the low, thick walls of the Mex-
ican houses, relieved alone by the deep portals and grated windows.
Here and there, on the river side, jacals were interspersed, lending
contrast to the view by their, tule roofs and mud-bedaubed sides. The
river, encroaching upon the street, caused an interval that terminated
at a rude footbridge spanning the stream where an old mill stood,
with its huge wheel conspicuous, and turned in ceaseless revolution
by the rapid current. Below the bridge, the waters, seething and
foaming as they escaped the narrow pass way that caused the power,
changed to deep, cool eddies, then to a thousand ripples and stream-
ing lines of white above the blue as the translucent flood poured over
the stones and pebbles of the broad shallows where passed a ford.
Above a low stone wall comprised the dam. Through this rude
work the searching waters found exit by many a moss-lined crevice
and came in rills and spurts to half inundate a cress-covered isbuul
that held the center of the bridge. Beyond the dam the blue river
formed a pretty picture with its receding banks lined bv willows,
whose half weeping branches fell pendant until their graceful foliage
kissed the tranquil surface.
Two doors from where the Calle de Carcel left the plaza, as one
would turn into it to the right, was a tienda containing several tables,
spread with snowy cotton cloths, occupying the sides of its small
front room. A back door, half open, disclosed a rear apartment and
allowed a glimpse of a large iron pot swinging from a tripod. A
little further on a small sign was faintly scrawled over a door and
spelled out, on a closer inspection, v-i-n-o-t-e-r-i-a. Opposite the vin-
oteria, the structure not differing materially from its neighbor's, was
the carcel or jail, whence the street had derived its name. At a
stone's throw from the carcel, with the market intervening, and slight-
ly retired from the paved walk, was another sign, swung so as to be
visible up and down the street. This bore the rough draft of a bull's
head while, partly above and partly below, were the words "Cabeza
de Toro."
Next to the shop of the Monte Pio, the resort of the Cabeza de
Tor<> was the most popular. Here was dealt the name so fascinating
to the average Mexican. The Bull's head was open, at all hours, to the
votaries of monte; but night was the favorile time, for the croud,
which would then assemble at the rooms- in goodly numbers, and
hould the occasion be the evening of a lies! a, would (ill them to
Grv 1. \y.\io NT>. 01
their utmost capacity. The monte room equalized all distinctions.
Here the patrician and the plebean met and puffed the fumes of the
ciirareta in each other's faces. The high official and the ladron, the
owner of the hacienda and the mendicant rubbed against each other,
the interest in the all-absorbing game suppressing every feeling that
elsewhere would have been engendered by offensive contact.
To add to the attractions of the place, the proprietor had appro-
priated two apartments for other purposes. One of these, fronting
on the street, was devoted to nightly fandangos, free to all the patrons
of the monte rooms. The other, to the rear, was the wine room,
where a villainous native beverage, called mescal, was served for a
<|iiar;i!la a drink. In Ihis laiter room were tallies or stands, where
Mexican dishes wore sold by women who paid a rental for the privi-
lege. Kadi st-and bad ils own furnace and coals, over which were
placed ihe pois containing (he edibles, and from which fhev were
dished oui, hot and steaming on demand.
Such was lho most notorious resort in Bexar, at the time of our
writing. The presence of the army of the Mexican (Jeneral Cos.
consisting of about'. two thousand troops, gave unusual life to the
iou'ti and trebled the usual attendance 1 at the Cabeza de Toro.
After Jose bad finished the duties which devolved upon him as
the i loxo to the Father Ignacio, he reported to Guy bis readiness to
accoi ipany him to witness a game of monte. He cautioned him in
not Mention the fact of the proposed visit to the priest, as the latter
had very curious ideas about going to such places.
"Kiii, I have been told," said Guy, "thai prices often bet at the
game, considering it no barm io gamble."
"What you say, senor, admits of much qualification. In Mexico
I have seen some of the; padres, who are not any better than they
should be, gamble in just such a place as the Cabeza de Toro, but
they would not tell their bishop of it. Again, I have known good
and holy priests bet a real or more and sometimes win quite ;i pile
of silver. And what woidd they do with such winnings? The next
dav would see the last quariilla distributed among the poor and sick.
i rule the padres are lucky, and when they give it to the hungry
and needy, where is the harm?"
"If you could take away the bad influences of the example, Jose,
there is much philosophy in your remarks," said Guy.
"Tho example is good enough^ senor. Suppose everybody would
follow it and give their winnings to th' 1 poor?"
"Your remark is ingenious," said Guy, laughing. "The example
I alluded to lay in the act of gambling and frequenting a place
where the associations are usually falal to good morals."
92 GUY RAYMOND.
"But, on the other hand/' contended Jose, "when a padre is
present the gamblers are quiet and well behaved, and an oath is
seldom uttered. The Mexican people have a great respect for the
fathers."
"Would Father Ignacio bet at a game of monte."
"Not he!" said Jose, emphatically.
"Does he approve of it in other priests?"
"No, senor; neither in priests nor people. Just confess the sin
to him, if you want to be amazed at the penance you will' get."
"I think Father Ignacio is right," 'said Guy, musingly.
They had just turned into the Calle de Carcel, when Jose, pointing
into the tienda, remarked:
"There is the tienda of Senora Candelario."
"Fll never forget her minced peppers," said Guy, glancing into
the place.
Operations at the place of their destination seemed to be in full
blast as they approached. The hum of many voices from the crowd
around the door, where hung the sign, was mingled with the lively
strains of music from the room devoted to the dance. Jose looked
into the monte room, but, discovering that dealing had not begun,
suggested to his companion that they take in the fandango first.
Guy submitted to the other's leadership and followed into the next
room. Four musicians were playing in one corner, producing very
creditable music from two violins, a harp and a flute. Seated ;m
benches lining the walls were a score of senoritas looking as immo-
bile as statuary, save an occasional turn of the head towards the
entrance, as some fresh arrival attracted attention. Guy, at Jose's
suggestion, took a seat near the door, while the latter prepared to
interview the proprietor or other authority, to ascertain how soon
the game would begin.
Left to himself Guy took in the movements of the arrivals and
of the men who sauntered in and out of the room. Many of the
latter scrutinized him very closely and with more or less expressions
of surprise, on account of his nationality.
Jose presently looked in to see how his young American friend
was getting along, and brought with him a tall, graceful Mexican.
whom he introduced to Guy as Manuel Ruiz.
"I am happy to know you, Senor Ruiz," he said.
"Consider me your friend and servant, Senor Raymond. But
!io\v well you speak our language!"
"I believe T speak it pretty \vell for an American. I
excel lent teacher."
oei
::
GUY KAYMOND. 93
"Jose tells me you arrived with Father Ignacio. It is a good
recommendation to have been in such excellent company, notwith-
standing, I presume you have given your parole and are all right at
headquarters."
"On the contrary, senor, I have not given any parole, not deem-
ing such a step . Now I remember, the padre did say I must
not venture out in town before I gave my parole. He does not
know I have left the house. Jose proposed to satisfy my desire to
witness a game of monte and here we are."
"It may be all right tonight, but must not be repeated for your
own sake. There are eight hundred Texans encamped on the Cibolo.
The capture of Goliad has opened the ball and war has certainly begun.
You will see why it will be necessary for a man of your complexion
to carry a pass to escape arrest."
"What you have communicated is news to me. I have been a
3aptive among the Indians for two years, without a word from my
own people."
At the request of his new acquaintance Guy related much of
the story of his captivity, which enhanced the interest first awakened
in the mind of the former, and led to a promise to remain near him
until he desired to return to the priest's house.
The dancing here begun and couples filled the floor, turning in
the easy measure of the Spanish waltz. Euiz, excusing himself, soon
joined the throng with a little woman, who had been sitting near, for
hi? partner.
Guy knew how to dance. The music and the scene before him
seemed to electrify him. All at once he caught sight of a neglected
senorita in the opposite corner, and, without hesitation, hastened to
T side and asked her to waltz.
When the music ceased, Euiz, who was looking for his American
iend, caught sight of him leading his partner to a seat. Jose was
also waiting at the door to show Guy to the monte room. The 'Mexican
is a natural gambler. The passion for gaming seems to have become
ingrained through heredity. Tbe chance upon which he will stake
his last article of property may be determined by the turn of a card
or the cutting of a watermelon. Losses, great or small, are endured
with perfect stoicism, while success induces no expression indicative
of exultation in the Aztec physiognomy.
Crossing an unlighted passage dividing it from the scene of the
fandango, Guy and his two companions entered a square apartment
with flagged floor, high ceiling and the inevitable deep, grated win-
dows. On the side opposite the street, three small tables were ranged
rUY RAYMOND.
near the wall, over each of which an individual presided. Above the
middle table, begrimed with dust and smoke, hung the picture of a
saint, which the rude letters below it indicated to be that of Saint
Anthony. Several persons were gathered around this table watching
the dealer as he dexterously manpulated a pack of cards. The men
seated at the other tables were carelessly disengaged, while before
them lay the cards, ready for use, with their representatives painted
upon the board. The game had fairly begun at the middle table, and
silver coins from a real up to the Mexican dollar, or peso, were placed
upon the favorite cards of the bettors, while the dealer mechanically
drew the gaudy pieces of pasteboard from the deck. As the bank
would win, the dealer would rake in the winnings and deposit them
in a drawer. When it sustained a loss, he would pay from the drawer
or from moneys won by the bank on another card. The bets were
all very light. After watching these operations for a half hour or
more, Guy expressed his disappointment to Jose and Manuel as to
the character of the game he had expected to see, and wondered how
it could be so attractive to the Mexicans.
"You would be much interested if you. would bet at the game,"
said Jose.
"Suppose you try your luck, Senor Raymond," suggested Manuel
Ruiz.
"I am not supplied with funds tonight," said Guy, laughing, as
he remembered his empty pocket. "But tomorrow Jose is to get me
the money for my pony and I will risk a real or two."
"No need of waiting until tomorrow, senor," said Jose, "for here is
a peso at your disposal."
"I feel as if I could break the bank tonight, Jose, and if I
should have such luck it would make the dealer my enemy. You bet
four reals, and if you lose, lend me the other four and I will be
pretty sure to win."
"That does not follow, but here goes. Quatro reales on the seven."
Jose put down his half dollar and lost.
Manuel followed his example and won.
"The seven was always my lucky card." said Jose, "but tonight it
seems as if it is not. Now, Senor Raymond, let us see if my loss
will be your gain."
Guy waited for a new deal and chose his card without hesitation.
He won.
He handed Jose back his loan, and bet again.
Jose and Ruiz both followed his example and lost.
"Que mala fortuna !" exclaimed Ruiz. "There, Senor Raymond
has won."
GUY RAYMOND. 95
"El no es indio por nada," said Jose. "Indians are always lucky
gamblers."
Guy had no particular confidence in his further success. He had
repaid Jose and was careless, if he won or lost. Each time he won
he placed the entire amount on some card, and invariably he would
win. His companions had lost all their change, besides several small
amounts he had prevailed upon them to accept. They were amazed
and amused at his success which, as one of them had predicted, now
caused him to become highly interested, and not a little excited. A
dense crowd had gathered around the table, and many voices were
heard expressing more or less surprise at the luck of the American.
Guy counted down fifty pesos and staked them on Jose's lucky
seven.
He won again.
He now had one hundred pesos. Euiz was delighted. He sug-
gested to Guy to put aside ninety pesos and to bet small amounts,
until he should lose the ten or win another hundred.
Guy handed him the ninety pesos and again put his trust in the
seven. Success did not desert him. He was highly elated, and, for
the first time, looked around at the faces whose eyes were regarding
him with wonder. One pair of eyes, however, met his glance with a
vindictiveness of expression that arrested his attention, and caused
him to look up again several times, only to meet the same sinister look.
The fellow's expression annoyed him to such an extent that he lost
interest in the game and was not aware of a change in his luck,
until he saw the dealer rake his stake into the drawer.
He looked up and encountered the gaze that had so perturbed him,
and this time the owner of the eyes were close at hand. As he
encountered the other's look with one of defiance, and was about to
demand what was meant by his offensive glances, they were partially
explained by the following words from the individual himself, who
pointed directly at him :
"Companeros ! This Gringo is a murderer and a thief, and I can
prove it."
The words were scarcely uttered before the fellow went sprawling
to the floor from the force of a blow dealt by Guy's muscular arm.
The confusion which ensued would be difficult to describe. The
crowd surged back and forward, having completely closed in upon
the combatants. Jose and Ruiz tried to get to their friend, being
much alarmed for his safety on hearing on all sides cries of "Mueron
los Gringos."
Their efforts were unavailing.
96 GUY KAYMOND.
Jose beat his breast in very agony at the thought of what Father
Ignacio would say to him if anything happened to Senor Raymond.
He would be blamed for having brought him to the Cabeza de Toro.
He looked wildly up and caught sight of the saint's picture. As a
last resort he uttered a fervent prayer to Saint Anthony to get
him out of the scrape. Just at this moment the crowd parted and
revealed Guy overpowered by a half dozen men, while Manuel Ruiz
was in the custody of as many more.
tff You cowardly dogs! You are none of you a match f or _ that
American boy. If it had not been for me and this good knife, you
would have killed him for resenting an insult from that dog of a
Vasquez."
The words from Ruiz infuriated the crowd, who would have
offered him violence, had not a short, thick-set, military man inter-
fered and brandished his sword to keep them back.
"Release Senor Ruiz," he said, in a firm tone.
The command was obeyed.
Guy had ceased to struggle with his captors and now stood passive.
His bare head and disheveled hair, his torn jacket and a bloody mark
on his cheek were evidences of the rough handling he had sustained.
He had left his mark on many of his antagonists, whose bloody physi-
ognomies proved that his blows had not fallen lightly, while his first
assailant was completely hors du combat.
So soon as qiuet was restored, the officer demanded of Ruiz the
cause of the broil.
"This young man was called a murderer and a thief by a fellow
named Vasquez and, like a man of courage, he knocked down his
insulter. He was then set upon by these cowards, who would have
killed him but for my efforts to prevent them and his own bravery
in defending himself."
"Why did Vasquez use such language to the young man ?"
"Quien sabe, senor. The fellow never saw him before."
"No es verdad I" said a voice, as the owner of it limped forward.
"Who are you?" demanded the officer.
"Yo? Yo soy Vasquez," making a salute.
"What is it that you say is not true ?"
"That I never saw this Gringo before," he replied, looking towards
Guy.
"Was that any reason that you should call him bad names?"
"Oyez, senor. Let me tell you the whole story, and Your Honor
will say that I am in the right, and that this Americano, Tejano or
Gringo, or whatever he is, ought to be punished.
GUY KAYMOND. 97
"Buen ; proceed with your story."
"Senor, it is more than a year that I and my brother were com-
ing to Bexar from Paso del Norte, with some caretas of Don Pedro
Sandoval, when we were attacked by a band of Indians near el Rio
Pecos. We gave them the best fight we could make, but they cap-
tured our train and killed all of our men but four, including myself.
Strange to say, among these Indians, and they were Lipans, senor, was
a young Gringo who fought like a devil. He killed my brother with
his rifle and took his horse, saddle and bridle. The man who did this
is before Your Honor, and is the one I called a murderer and a thief."
"You may be mistaken, Vasquez."
"ISTo es possible, Your Honor. This fellow came in town only
today, dressed as an Indian, and he has sold my brother's saddle to
the Monte Pio."
"What have you to say to this, senor?" asked the officer, turning
to Guy.
The latter made no reply.
"Perhaps he cannot speak Mexican."
"You are wrong there, senor," said Vasquez, "you should have
heard him talk when he was winning all that money. El habla puro
Mexicano, senor."
"Es un diablo para pelear," said a bystander, with a closed eye.
'Es la verdad," chimed in Vasquez, "for my poor nose is broken."
"Do you speak Spanish?" asked the officer.
"Si, senor," Guy replied, stiffly.
''Are these charges of Vasquez true?"
"I will answer at the proper time."
"Are you an American?"
"I am, sir."
"Tejano?"
"Yes, a colonist."
"What are you doing in San Antonio?"
"Only passing through."
"Have you a pass?"
"I was a captive among the Indians. I made my escape only five
days ago and this is the first settlement I have reached. I came in
today with your priest."
"Every word that he says is true," Jose ventured to suggest. I
came in with Father Ignacio and Senor Raymond came with us, from
the San Geronimo. Oh ! Dios," he continued, aside, "what will the
padre say to me about this scrape I have got Senor Raymond into?"
"You will have to account well for being inside of our lines, or
98 GUY RAYMOND.
it will go hard with you. Besides you will have to answer to the
charge made by Vasquez," said the officer, sternly.
"Senor," replied Ruiz, "the young man has informed you of his
escape from the Indians, and if he was long a captive, he could not
know that we are in a state of war with his countrymen."
"I do not want any explanations from you, Senor Ruiz. You are
not free from suspicion yourself."
The officer here gave a signal and a file of soldiers entered, in
charge of a sergeant. Giving the latter some instructions in a low
tone, he left the monte room.
Guy understood at a glance that he was in the custody of a mili-
tary patrol, and had no doubt that he was to go to prison. When
the sergeant ordered him to fall in, in front of the soldiers, he did
so at once and was marched out into the street.
CHAPTER XV.
Guy's surmise as to his destination was correct. The patrol had
very few steps to make before they reached the entrance of the carcel.
They entered the corridor connecting the street and the court within,
and the prisoner found himself in a paved yard, not unlike the one
at Father Ignacio's, where he had performed his ablutions in com-
pany with Senor Gonzales. A dreary light from a lantern, which
swung from the rear wall and barely made objects discernable, dis-
closed a sentinel walking beneath it. Small, grated windows looked
in upon the court from high places in the masonry in the southern
wall, indicating the positions of the prison cells they were intended
to ventilate. The sergeant brought the patrol to a halt, then spoke
to the sentinel, who immediaely knocked at a door in the wall oppo-
site the cells. After repeating the summons, the door slowly opened
and sufficiently to admit the passage of a round, fat head, which pro-
truded itself and in an effiminate voice, demanded :
"Que cosa es?"
"Abra la puerta, viejo ; we have a nice young Gringo for you. If
you know what is good for yourself you had better put him in your
safest cage, for he is a strong bird."
"Where did you catch this pajorro, tan fuerte? Have you had a
battle, and is this one of the prisoners?"
"No, tonto. The fight was only a fisticuff, and this young savage,
who is a kind of Lipan, broke half a dozen noses, and closed up as
many more eyes before they secured him."
GUY RAYMOND. 99
"Wait until I get my keys," said the owner of the fat head, as
he drew it in again.
He soon reappeared muttering:
"Pajarro muy fuerte, pajarro muy fuerte."
The rotund form of the jailer was in keeping with his head.
He strode along the paved court with a shuffling pace to retain
possession of his buckskin slippers, into which his feet were thrust,
without regard to the exposure of his bare yellow heels, just visible
under the bottoms of his loose trousers, that depended in remarkable
fullness from a waist past the medium of corpulency. He thrust a
heavy iron key into the lock of a door to the left on the corridor and,
while doing so, he scanned the features of the prisoner from under
his elevated left hand. The door yielded to his pressure and mo-
tioning to the sergeant to bring on his man, he enterd, repeating to
himself :
"Pajarro fuerte."
Guy, obeying the order to follow the jailer, found himself in a
narrow passage and could dimly distinguish another doorway, just
as he heard a movement of a rusty bolt, followed by the deeper dark-
ness of a cell that became apparent as the door opened.
"Entre," commanded the fine voice of the jailer.
Guy half hesitated, when the sergeant assisted him by a plight
push. The door was quickly closed, the rusty bolt grated harshly
as it shot into place, and the cell was filled with inky darkness.
Left alone to his reflections, Guy stood for a while motionless,
half dazed by the change which a few minutes had made in his for-
tunes. The monte room pictured itself before him ; the dealer with
the cards, slowly manipulating them, the crowd, interested, wondering-
at his strange luck, the sinister expression of those eyes in which he had
divined mischief to himself, his subsequent collision with their owner
and his struggle with the mob, all passed rapidly through his mind.
And his winnings? His hand sought his pocket, but he remembered
that he had entrusted every cent to Buiz, the gallant fellow who came
to his assistance. The latter had proven a better comrade than the
timid Jose, whom he had seen looking wild and irresolute while
Manuel was uttering the tirade against his assailants. Even the little
senorita, with whom he had waltzed, looked at him with her soft eyes
from the mental panorama that passed before him. What would
Father Ignacio say when his erring mozo, Jose, would communicate
the news of his mishap, brought about by his well intended chaperon-
ing?"
As the subject matter of his thoughts terminated in flu 1 rapid
100 GUY EAYMOND.
digestion of all the incidents of the evening, a feeling akin to despair
weighed upon him for a moment. It was only for a moment, for,
raising his head, he caught the lighter shade of the heavens in a
space scarcely larger than a hand, in the midst of which glimmered
the soft, silver light of a star. As trivial as was this circumstance,
his heart sent back a greeting to the celestial monitor that, of all the
universe, was peeping at him through that little space of the window
of his cell. He groped about, feeling to discover what objects, ani-
mate or inanimate, might be his co-occupants. Nothing more than
the bare, damp walls. Not a seat to rest upon. He did not expect
to find a bed. He walked slowly up and down the narrow limits,
pausing at every turn to look at the star, the only object he could
see in the whole universe. He began to feel very weary, when the
noise of the sliding bolt arrested his attention. The next moment
the door of the cell opened and the peculiar voice of the jailer sang
out:
"Aqui esta su cama."
A rustling noise on the floor indicated that something had been
tossed in. The door closed, the bolt shot forward to its place, and
all again was quiet.
Guy, on examining his acquisition, discovered it to be a tick of
cornshucks, amply filled, but too short for a comfortable bed. He
stretched it out to its full length, however, and improvising his coat
for a pillow, laid himself down for a rest, without any hope of being
able to sleep. He was exceedingly weary, having had little repose
since the early morning, to which was added the effects of his struggle
with the crowd after he had disabled his denouncer, Yasquez. He
had escaped with little injury, sundry bruises about his head being
the extent of the damage to his person. He continued awake for a
long time, nursing his thoughts and speculating as to the outcome
of his present predicament, when he gradually lapsed into a dreamy
slumber.
Jose had kept in sight of his unfortunate American friend until
the darkness of the prison corridor shut him out from view. He
heaved a sigh and uttered a Spanish imprecation as he turned
towards the plaza. He was about to pass the tienda of the Senora
Candelario, when he observed Manuel Euiz, seated at one of the tables
in her establishment, with his head leaning on his hand, as if ab-
sorbed in deep reflection. Anxious to find sympathy in his dilemma,
Jose immediately entered the shop, seated himself opposite to his
friend, and placing both elbows on the table aped, without intending
it, the position of the other.
GUY KAYMOND. 101
"You are not playing monkey, are you?" asked Ruiz, rather in-
dignantly. "I feel too mad to stand any foolishness, and the business
we have just been through is too serious for aping."
"Not so serious with you, amigo, as it is with me. If you had to
tell Father Ignacio what I will have to tell in the morning, and then
to confess it besides Oh, Dios ! That my mother never had borne
me!"
"It is for yourself that you feel then. If I could have rescued
that gallant boy, I would be willing to face a thousand priests, and
confess every sin in the calendar. It is his imprisonment in that
infernal jail that I regret."
"I am as sorry as you, Manuel; but was it not lucky that he gave
you the ninety pesos."
"D n the money ! It i? of him I am thinking."
"But if he had kept the money, those soldiers or old Bonito would
have got it. Now, you can keep it for Senor Raymond until he gets
out."
"If he ever gets out!"
"Don't say that, Manuel."
"I tell you, these are serious times, and he may be shot as a spy,
even if he gets clear of the Vasquez matter."
"Get him free from, that, and I am certain he will never be shot,
with Father Ignacio here to account for him."
"But how to shut Yasquez's mouth?"
"It was his brother's saddle and Senor Eaymond got me to sell
it to the Monte Pio. That proof would fail, but he recognizes in
him the slayer of his brother."
"Has the fellow anything."
Basques?"
^
asquez."
"No, not a quartilla, but what he picks up here and there at odd
times. He lives around the Cabeza cle Toro and owes the women for
tortillas. He is lower than a peon."
"Then I have an idea how to shut his mouth," said Ruiz, striking
the table with his hand.
Como?" asked Jose, electrified by the hopeful suggestion,
will do it with Senor Raymond's money."
on todo ? With every cent ? The idea is capital ! But, amigo.
all those ninety pesos ! Why, a third of that amount would
appear, to that wretch's eyes, like a great fortune. No, Manuel, it
would be a shame to bestow such an amount on such an object."
"Well, if he takes a part, all right ; but what are ninety pesos com-
nA with that young fellow's freedom?"
102 GUY EAYMOND.
"Es verdad ; but, Manuel, not the whole ninety."
"Your mind dwells on small matters, Jose, when great ones are
at stake. I feel better, now that I can see some hope for our friend,
and with hope returns my vagrant appetite. Oyez, Senora! Dos
platas de chile con came, con tortillas y frejoles."
The summons and order were heard by the senora, who had peeped
in from time to time, and had caught snatches of the conversation,
feeling confident that their order would follow shortly. Soon two
smoking dishes of the savory preparation ordered were placed in front
of the men, with a third plate of tortillas.
"I was to bring Senor Kaymond here tonight, after we had taken
in the Cabeza de Toro," said Jose, with a half sigh, cut short by his
first mouthful of supper. "Instead of supping here, he is now in
prison, and the money he won so beautifully on deposit for the beast
who caused his misfortune. Manuel, did it ever occur to you what
kind of a world this is?"
"The old padre, who taught me, impressed me with the idea that
it was round."
"I don't mean its shape. I mean the circumstances of life, the
events which shape destinies, the influences which affect our for-
tunes."
"You didn't find that in Father Ignacio's books. He accounts,
no doubt, for good and bad fortunes as special acts of Providence.
Take care, Jose! Any drifting into a different philosophy will add
to the already heavy penances in store for you."
"Qwe bruto! To call me back to that dreaded subject, when I
had just got it out of my head."
"Very well, I will relieve you of my presence and you can find
your way to bed, while I search for Vasquez and
"Don't, Manuel, pay him all not the whole ninety to such,
a "
Before Jose could finish what he was going to say, Euiz had
hurriedly left the place and was out of sight. The deserted major
domo called to Senora Candekrio, who promptly appeared.
"What will Don Jose have?" she inquired.
"Call me not Don Jose! Call me a burro bruto or anything.
Here is the money for our suppers."
"Gracias, senor, but what is the matter that you are so worried ?"
"Enough is the matter," said Jose, approaching the street door.
"Has the fight over the way anything to do with your trouble?"
"Everything. A young friend an American has been put in
the carcel for breaking the noses of a dozen peons who set upon him."
GUY RAYMOND. 103
"Is it the young man who came with el padre Ignacio ?"
"The same."
"Is he a friend of the padre?"
"He has taken a great fancy to him."
"Then why hother about it. Surely the friend of el padre Ignacio
will come to no harm. Go at once and tell him/'
"There's the trouble. If I had not taken him there he would
not now be a prisoner. The blame will rest on me, and telling it
may cost me my place. My young friend was to take supper here
with me."
"You are a good customer, Jose. Poor young fellow ! Perhaps he
has had no supper."
"Not he ! Old Bonito would not take the trouble to hand him a
cold tortilla."
"He shall have his breakfast then, for Bonito will be glad to let
me furnish it."
"Good Candelario!"
"Where did Senor Ruiz go in such a hurry?"
"He is half out of his wits. To think of giving ninety pesos to
a peon, to whom five would look like a fortune. He has gone in
search of the fellow who caused all the trouble. For ninety pesos
I would take myself off. Buenas noches, Candelario," and Jose went
out into the street.
"Una cosa muy triste," sighed the senora, as she turned back into
her shop.
Instead of going towards home, Jose proceeded slowly down the
street until he came to the vinoteria. He looked in and saw three
or four soldiers at a table in the further end. After a moment's
hesitation he entered and, taking a seat, called for something to
drink. A pottery jug with a mug was placed before him by the
shop tender.
When Ruiz left Jose so unceremoniously he made his way directly
to the Cabeza de Toro. He there looked in every nook and corner,
but the object of his search could not be seen. Gambling was still
in progress in the monte room, whose atmosphere was almost stifling
from tobacco smoke. The chink of silver and the even, musical
voices of the crowd went on as if no undue excitement had lately
disturbed the quiet of the place. In the danceroom the baile was
at its height, and Ruiz was scarcely noticed as he elbowed his way,
scrutinizing the faces of the men. He sat down, rather impatiently,
and concluded to wait until the dansa, then playing, was over. The
music ceased and a young girl seated herself near to him. She was
104 GUY RAYMOND.
the same with whom Guy had waltzed. A sudden impulse, probably
induced by a desire for some kind of sympathy, caused him to com-
municate with her the misfortune of her late partner.
"Que mala gente!" she exclaimed. "To put such a pretty fellow
in that dirty carcel."
"He was brave. You should have seen him easily handle a half
dozen men/'
"And what a skin he has! I would bet he has a pretty sister."
"The Americans are all brave."
"And so handsome."
"Well, I am off to see what I can do for your pretty partner."
"Oh, Manuel! Can I help you?"
"You, little one! What could you do?" and Ruiz strode away,
glancing back with a half smile at the girl.
Out in the fresh air once more Ruiz walked on mechanically until
he found himself in the plaza. He turned to the right, down the
sidewalk leading to where, half a block ahead, the light from the
Monte Pio's streamed into the open square. When near the door he
could hear voices and when opposite, he paused and saw, to his satis-
faction, Vasquez, the object of his search.
He quickly entered. High words were passing between that in-
dividual and another worthy, but little more respectable in appear-
ance. Vasquez, who was in his shirt sleeves and hatless, had his
swollen eye bandaged and was in the act of pulling off his shoes.
"Pull them off, you rascal !" the other was saying. "You lied to
me to get the money, and now you must pawn those shoes to pay
me or I will give you a worse beating than did that young Gringo."
Ruiz made inquiry of Vasquez concerning the trouble between him
and the other and having fully posted himself, prepared to carry
out his scheme.
"Look here, fellow ! You have the heart of a dog to force a poor,
wounded devil to give up his shoes for a trifle of four reals. Here
is your money. You, Vasquez, keep on your shoes. Where is your
hat?"
"Senor, the Monte Pio gave me three reals on it, to pay that same
fellow. I borrowed the money, hoping to win, but I had bad luck
tonight."
"Here is your hat. You owe me seven reals now."
"Mil gracias, senor. I am your servant."
"Come, Vasquez, I have something to say to you for your own
good," said Ruiz, leading the way out to the plaza.
"For my good? You have been so good to me already."
GUY EAYMOND. 105
"Yes, but you are in great danger, and I found it out merely
by chance."
"What is it, senor?"
"The young man, the American you had arrested."
"What about him ?"
"You were mistaken about him about his being with the Indians."
"But "
"Hush, and I will show that you are honestly mistaken. You
noticed how well he speaks our language?"
"Si, senor, like a Mexican."
"Well, he is American born, but he is an adopted son of el prese-
dente, Don Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, and came only this morn-
ing with the president's chief of staff."
"For Dios ! Lo que dice V., es la verdad ?"
"As true as there stands San Fernando."
"Oh, senor, what will I do ?" '
"Remain here and get shot, or get out of the way and join .the
colonists, or or, do something."
"If I had a horse I would leave tonight, right now, but, senor, I
have not a quartilla."
Ruiz reflected a moment.
"I have it!" he said. "I am glad I thought of it. The Texans
are not far from here and I have something to send to the com-
mander, General Austin. You can take it for me. It is a package
of money. Will you do this for me?"
"Senor! Would you trust me?"
"Why not? You would not be fool enough to stay here and get
shot. Besides, I will give you some money for yourself. You know,
with money, a man can go most anywhere. The quicker you get
out of this, the .safer will be your head."
"I will do just what you tell me, senor."
"Follow me, then."
Ruiz turned into the Calle de Carcel and directed his steps
towards the tienda where he had left Jose so unceremoniously. Senora
Candelario had closed for the night, but a faint light came from the
vinoteria, a little farther on. Keeping an eye on his protege, Ruiz
continued down the narrow pavement and entered the latter place. It
was apparently deserted by all but the shop boy, who was dozing in a
corner. The noise made by the comers awakened him.
"How can I serve you, senor ?" he inquired, rousing up as he spoke.
"My good boy, it is nearly time you were closing for the night
arid I will take the liberty to shut your street door for a few moments,
106 GUY KAYMOND.
and will pay you well if you should imagine that' it has cost you
anything. Here are four reals as a pledge for what I say. I have
a little private business with this honorable gentleman and do not
wish to be interrupted."
The boy took the money, while Euiz closed the entrance from the
street.
"Now, my little friend, you step into the back room and allow
no one to bother us for a while."
After the boy had retired, Ruiz turned to Vasquez.
"Now, what is your full name?"
"Enrique Jose Maria."
"You have name enough, at all events, if you are a pauper,"
thought Ruiz, as he took a lot of silver from his pockets and counted
it on the table.
"Ten, twenty, thirty, forty," he called, as he shoved four stacks
of pesos to one side.
A v.oice in a corner repeated the enumeration and caused Ruiz
to look in the direction whence came the sound ;. but seeing nothing,
he concluded it was an echo. He rolled up this money in his hand-
kerchief and then counted and stacked ten more pesos.
"Well, Senor Don Enrique Jose Maria Vasquez, here is a package
containing forty pesos, which you are to deliver to General Austin,
the commander of the Texans, now in camp on^ el rio Cibolo. He is
a friend of mine and will take care of you. Here are ten pesos for
yourself. You know the country well. Do not get caught or your
life will be forfeited."
"Mil gracias, senor. All shall be done as you command'."
"Can you read?"
"No, senor."
"I thought of sending a letter by you, but it. is best that you
carry nothing indicating your destination. Now be off and do not
let tomorrow's sun see you in Bexar."
"Adios, senor," and Yasquez was disposed of.
"Al diablo," said Ruiz, as he went to the door and looked after
the fellow as he disappeared in the darkness.
"Fifty pesos did the work," muttered Ruiz, turning towards the
back door.
"Is it you, Manuel?" asked an unsteady voice in the shadow of
the opposite corner.
Ruiz saw, with surprise, the half recumbant form of Jose gazing
stupidly at him, with his hand shading his eyes.
"You here ! And I thought I was alone."
GUY RAYMOND. 107
"Hie! Did you give the fellow the ninety pesos?"
"Buarachon ! I did not know you ever got drunk/'
"For via de mi madre ! Manuel el padre se anoho con migo."
"Come, you poor devil. I will see you home."
Euiz helped the inebriate to his feet, and led him out of the
vinoteria,
CHAPTER XVI.
When Guy awoke, after having fallen alseep on his rude prison
bed, the light of morning had penetrated through the high, deep win-
dow into the recesses of his apartment. As his eyes grew accustomed
to the varying shades that hung about the rough and mildewed
walls, they wandered inquisitively over every foot of surface, as his
thoughts mingled the quaint appearance of his surroundings with
the strange mischance which had consigned him to a cell. Deep
fissures and jagged points everywhere appeared in the masonry, pre-
dominating in number in the arched ceiling. From these his glance
was directed to the opening, as he remembered the little star, that
had peeped into his solitude and cheered his faltering courage. He
thought over his case.
Its most serious aspect was doubtless involved in the charge of
the fellow who called himself Vasquez. The saddle, which had
betrayed him, must have belonged to the man's brother, else the
true story of the fight and the recognition of the property could not
have followed, so quickly, his arrival in the town. Indeed, he himself
had been recognized, unless the presence of Jose had betrayed his
identity, as the party who had authorized the sale of the saddle to
the Monte Pio. He rose from his bed not very much rested, his limbs
stiff, and a dull, heavy ache about his temples. A basin of cold
water to lave his head would have been worth more money than all
that his strange luck had brought him but a few hours before.
What had become of that array of silver dollars which had made
the eyes of Jose glisten with eagerness? Ruiz would probably keep
it for him or entrust it to the major domo. It might possibly help
him some in his difficulty. But the termination of every speculation
as to his liberation would be the hope he had in the friendship and
influence of the good priest of San Fernando. He, of all persons,
was incorruptible. He had been pronounced by his most intimate
underling to be a living saint and appeared to be the terror of that
worthy whenever he suspected the piqus father had discovered any
of his lapses from a prescribed rectitude either in religious or secular
matters.
108 GUY RAYMOND.
Guy's reflections were interrupted by the sounds of the jailor's
voice, the tones indicating displeasure. Old Bonito, as the sergeant
had called him, appeared to be in altercation with someone whom
he would not allow to enter from the corridor. Although the young
prisoner was possessed equally of resignation and resolution, still the
sound of the voice was pleasant and welcome. His father had in-
culcated in his son's disposition much of his own self-reliant philoso-
phy. At fifteen his thoughts had expanded from the chrysalis of
traditionary channels to the transcendant realms of speculative in-
quiry. His Indian life had been a study of nature. The instincts
of the savage, which placed him beyond the pale of a civilization that
lowered him by its arbitrary standard of morality, were offset and
even overbalanced by the gilded vices and insatiate rapacity of his
white brother. The stoic fortitude of the Lipans had impressed their
young prsoner with a feeling of admiration for a racial characteristic
that held in contempt a display of fear or weakness in any vicissitude.
The voices outside had ceased for many minutes, when he heard
the shuffling step of the jailer approaching. A rap followed.
"Senor Pajarro! Are you awake?"
Guy remained silent.
"Oyez, senor!"
"The bird cannot be flown," muttered Bonito. "I'll just open
the door and see if he is dead, deaf or asleep."
He unlocked the door and cautiously opened it. Guy stood before
him, erect, with a stern expression in his eyes as they encountered
those of the jailer.
"Por Dios ! Senor Pajarro has bad eyes."
"My name is Raymond, Senor Bonito, and if you wish to keep
on the good side of me you had better drop your nicknames."
"Senor Raymond, your servant! You cannot be half so vicious
as the sergeant would have one believe. Ciertamente, siempre, Senor
Raymond. No more nicknames. The sergeant introduced you as
Senor Pajarro; Pajarro, fuerte; but now Senor Raymond. Stupid
sergeant! Bonito is a nickname for me, but I have long ceased to
mind it, for honestly, senor, my true name is something wonderful
for length, the fault of my parents, however. Strangers, and even
some intimate acquaintances, could never remember it, and therefore
I submitted to my nickname. I always answer to Bonito. I hope
you slept well last night, although your bed was none of the best.
They don't furnish me with beds for prisoners and this bag of shucks
was all that could be found among my own effects. I will never get
pay for this act of my charity; but' Bonito manages to keep even
GUY RAYMOND. 109
from certain tricks of his own. For instance, I will charge for your
breakfast this morning when it is not my intention to furnish you
with a morsel. Not that I could have a heart to starve my prisoner,
but I have my permission asked, by a senora who makes the best
dishes in the town, that she may have the honor of providing you
with a breakfast. Of course, my permission was given, for I will
make a real. I am fortunate in getting hold of a prisoner who is so
popular with the senoras. I hope, senor senor your name has gone
from me already. I was going to say that I hope you will remain
with me just as long as Senora Candelario will supply you with
meals."
The loquacity of the jailer seemed interminable and would have
continued to an indefinite length had not Guy interrupted.
"See here, Senor Bonito ! Your tongue would have been better
employed by making inquiry as to the wants of your prisoner than in
discussing yourself and your trickery. I want a basin of water and
something to sit on. If you do not attend to me properly I shall
apply for a release at once and you will lose your real for my meals.
Furthermore, if you treat me well I have money to pay you."
"The sergeant did not search you then ! If he did not, it is more
wonderful than a miracle. Under the rules it becomes my duty to
carry out what the patrol failed to do."
As he said this, Bonito advanced as if to execute the asserted duty.
The statement of his prisoner that he was possessed of means to pay
was taken in the sense that he had the money on his person. The
idea roused his cupidity and the first thought was to dispossess his
victim in advance and make the manner of treatment a subsequent
consideration. Guy at once perceived his intention and thwarted
him by a display of determination, coupled with a warning signal
from his half extended arm and open palm.
"It is plain, Bonito, that you do not know with whom you have
to deal. You cannot search me single-handed, but I will relieve you
of the torture of believing that I have money with me, by informing
you that I have not a cent here. My money is with my friends. It
will be to your interest to get me what I require and to do so at once."
"You are a bold pajarro, sure enough. You shall have the water
and the seat."
Bonito made a motion to close the door of the cell, then re-
marked :
"Xo ! I will be gone but a second, and you could not get out of
tho court if you tried."
He left the cell door half of en and shuffled away across the court,
8-r
110 GUY EAYMOND.
Guy rolled his bed into a corner, made a round or two of his
cell, then waited at the door. Before Bonito's return someone was
pounding on the closed door leading into the corridor. He heard
the summons from the opposite apartment, whence he had stuck out
his head on Guy's arrival with the patrol, went through the same
performance on this occasion, and shouted to the caller to have
patience.
"There ought to be a half dozen Bonitos," he said. "Here I have
to be run to death serving this one, and answering that one, and a
peon is better paid. I half believe that pretty bird has the money
on him. (Santa Maria! That fellow will batter down the door.)
He would have had his basin of water ten minutes ago if it had
not been for Linda's tongue. Even she knows him, and Candelario
knows him, and that Manuel Ruiz was here this morning trying to
force his way in, without a permit, to see him. Este pajarro es una
vera aguila."
Bonito finally supplied the coveted water, and depositing the
basin and a three-legged stool inside the cell door, he made all the
haste he could to answer the loud knocking at the corridor.
It proved to be Guy's breakfast which had been sent as promised.
The fat old fellow was puffing from his unusual celerity of move-
ment as he deposited on the doorsill of the cell a basket covered by
a snowy cloth.
"If you have many more wants, Senor Pa your pardon, senor,
but your name is ?"
"Raymond," answered Guy, amused.
"I fear I will be poorly paid, Senor Raymond, for to attend to
you one will have to run himself to death."
"Give me the liberty of the enclosure and I will give you my word
that I will make no attempt to escape."
"That is exactly what that little tonta, Linda, said when I went
for the basin and the stool."
"Who is Linda?"
"She said she knows you. If true, it seems to me you should
know her. Linda is my rattle-brained daughter."
"She must be mistaken," said Guy, wonderingly.
"She is mistaken in nothing. She has said it, and means it. She
knew of your arrest and asked me to let you walk about the court
in the day time. Like all women, she is soft-hearted. If she were
jailer all the prisoners would get away, for she would parole them
all to walk where they pleased."
"Not all, Bonito. An honorable man is safer kept by his parole
GUY RAYMOND. Ill
than by the strongest walls. Perhaps your Mexican race does not
understand this sentiment as its men are unusually treacherous."
"I am no Mexican, senor. My father was Portugese and my
mother Italian. My wife was Mexican. Mexicans are a pretty bad
set that is, the men. The women are all right and would turn any-
body loose. You had better look into your basket, now that you are
washed. Your breakfast will get cold."
Guy was not loth to comply with Bonito's suggestion, for he had
tasted nothing since the dinner at Father Ignacio's. Seating him-
self on the doorsill he converted the stool into a table and took the
edibles out of the basket. Everything was steaming. At the very
bottom he found a mug of chocolate covered by a plate containing
tortillas.
"This is better than prison fare/' said Bonito, his appetite sharp-
ened by the smell of the dishes.
"Ruiz must have had a hand in this," thought Guy.
"Do you know Manuel Ruiz," he asked, turning to the other.
"Si, senor. He was here this morning to see you, but had no
permit; and my orders are strict."
"And Jose, he who stays with the padre. Do you know him?"
"Everybody knows Jose."
"Has he been here?"
"No, senor."
"And Linda, your daughter, was she here?"
"She is here all the time, except when she goes to a baile, or to
mass, or to walk in the Alameda. She lives with her father; where
eke?"
Guy knew that the last girl he had spoken to, since he left Laoni
on the mountain side, was she with whom he had waltzed the evening
before.
"She asked you to let me walk about on parole?"
"As I told you."
"And you refused?"
"I made her no answer. That fellow with your breakfast was
about to bieak down the door, and I had to run with your basin full
of water in one hand and the stool in the other. You saw how out
of breath I was, and senor, my pay is beggarly."
"Well, Bonito, I will allow you two reals each day that you
permit me to enjoy the freedom of the court."
"That is a small pay for the risk, senor."
To risk at all. Every morning I will renew my parole."
will think about it, senor."
112 GUY KAYMOND.
Bonito gathered up the dishes, and promising to return shortly,
closed and locked the door.
He halted for reflection as he crossed the yard :
"Two reals for the liberty of the court; two for the meals that
I don't furnish four reals. If he stays a month, that will be fifteen
pesos. I believe the fellow has the money in his pocket. He won't
let me search him, and if I tell the patrol he has it, where will
Bonito be? Better close the bargain. He can't get out except through
the corridor door, and that is locked all day."
"I thought you were going to stay the rest of the day, papa."
These words greeted Bonito as he returned to the apartment fro PI
which he had emerged with basin and stool.
"Your American is hard to please. He wants everything. I have
a notion to put him in irons."
"Dear papa ! Do not do that. He waltzed with me at the baile
and was so polite and agreeable. He would have stayed with me
longer, but another came and took him away. After a long time
the same one returned and told me of his bad fortune."
"Bad fortune! I think he is doing well. He has money and
friends; everybody is trying to get a peep at him; the Candelario is
feeding him like a king ; you are begging for his liberty in the court ;
besides, I am making a real for every meal sent to him. Linda, be-
tween you and me, I believe the fellow has plenty of money in his
pocket. He admits the patrol did not search him and says that I
shall not. He is impudent."
"He is brave," said Linda.
"You are a fool."
"And he is handsome."
"Cayatelaboca!"
"Papa, do not keep him in the cell all day."
"We will see; we will see."
When his cell door was again opened Guy had a long chat with
his jailer who tried, in every conceivable way, to draw from him an
admission that he had means on his person to defray the promised
outlay for the daily privilege to walk about on parole. After finally
consenting to the arrangement, he exacted a promise that Guy should
not inform his daughter, if by chance he should meet her in the court,
that he had exacted any pay for his release from close confinement.
There was no sentinel in the yard, which fact was explained by
Bonito, who stated that his post during the day was in front of the
prison, but at night the corridor was left open and the sentinel
walked in the court.
GUY RAYMOND. 113
Noon came and passed. The Candelario did not forget his dinner,
but he was disappointed that no one had called to look after his
interests. Ruiz had been denied admittance, but what had become
of Jose? What of Father Ignacio? Guy thought he should be
arraigned on the charge against him, but then he reflected the ac-
cusers, judges and jurisprudence, were Mexican, even if he were not
to be dealt with by summary military measures. The thought rather
discouraged him, and he began to lose confidence in his powers. He
seated himself on a bench under his high cell window and lowered
his head into his hands. How friendless he was! True, he had no
claims on the new acquaintances of the last few hours, other than
those of common humanity and that chivalrous generosity whose
mutual possession draws persons together through the magnetism of
a noble similarity.
The valley of the San Saba rose to his mental vision. The rock
above the falls supported the form of his truest friend, who was
waiting, and would wait until the leaves would fall and come again,
waiting for El Bravo. A touch upon his shoulder awakened him
from his reverie and starting up, he beheld his little partner in the
waltz.
CHAPTER XVII.
The morning after the termination of Jose's visit to the Cabeza
de Toro, Father Ignacio was astir betimes. He had duties to per-
form about his premises before repairing- to the church to say early
mass. His absence had not tended to improve the domestic arrange-
ment of his household, and he was too thorough and methodical to
trust important matters to irresponsible servants. Jose was usually
faithful, but was sometimes derelict in depending too implicitly on
others, not actuated by motives so disinterested as was the major
domo in the affairs of his patron. On the morning in question he
waited, rather impatiently, for the appearance of his trusted steward.
The cook had reported that Jose had not been seen, and consequently
he had no orders. All about the premises were ignorant of his where-
abouts. He was not in his room. Finally, at his wit's end, the priest
directed a servant to go to Senor Raymond's apartment and inquire
if he knew anything of the major domo.
The servant returned in a moment and reported that the reputed
occupant was not there, but that he found Jose fast asleep on the
bed and that several vigorous shakes had failed to arouse him.
Lost in amazement at such news, Father Ignacio hastened to in-
vestigate for himself. Sure enough, he discovered Jose in the con-
114 GUY EAYMOND.
dition reported, and after several efforts, succeeded in getting him
to a sitting position on the bed. The smell of mescal at once ap-
prised the priest of the cause of the major domo's stupidity. Why
his trusted man had imbibed the execrable stuff to the extent of
beastly intoxication, where he had been, what occasion had tempted
him, and how he came to be in Guy's room and bed, and the latter
gone, were mysteries to be solved.
Jose, after sitting up a while, became sufficiently conscious to
respond to inquiries.
"Jose! Where is Senor Raymond?"
"I know not, mi padre. Is he not in his room?"
"Why, this is his room. You are in his bed, and he is not to be
seen. How came you here?"
"I know not, mi padre, unless I walked in my sleep."
"Jose, you have been drunk, and only now are getting over the
effects.
"I may have taken a drink, but not drunk, mi padre. I am sick
so sick."
"If you are sick, it is from the effects of mescal. Have you no
shame? I had need of your assistance at the church, for this is
the eve of the Feast of the Holy Rosary, and you well know that I
wanted you to do the heavy work in arranging and decorating the
grand altar. Now, upon whom am I to depend ? Where is this young
American? You say you do not know; but since I find you in this
wretched, disgraceful condition, I cannot believe you. Confine your-
self to this room until I give you permission to leave. Disobey me,
and you will forfeit my friendship."
Jose became rapidly sobered during the priest's lecture. Indeed,
his debauch had been slept off, but had been succeeded by a stupor
that rquired a little time after awakening to admit of a full return
of the senses. He had not dared to admit to a knowledge of Guy's
misfortune. The denial, once made, rendered it all the more difficult
to tell the truth. He was full of remorse, but dared not acknowledge
sua culpa, sua maxima culpa to the priest whose life was so pure.
Poor Jose ! He fell over on the bed and wept bitter tears on
account of the father's displeasure. His fault had not been so great,
after all. "If the arrest of his friend could have been avoided, he
would have been home in time, perfectly sober, with bright pesos which
his unfortunate companion had so beautifully won, and which now,
alas, had all gone most probably to the vile Vasquez, who was the
cause of all the trouble. Jose came to the conclusion that the worst
feature of the whole affair was the discovery of his wrong doing. He
pondered on his case and concluded the safest defense would be a
GUY EAYMOND. 115
general denial as to his knowledge of Guy's imprisonment. The first
use he would make of a release from the restriction to his present
quarters would be to institute a pretended search for the missing
guest and report the discovery of his arrest under the charges of
Vasquez. The fact of his inebriation must be accounted for in some
manner, but how, the present state of his muddled brain rendered
him powerless to decide.
It was quite noon before Father Ignacio relented towards his
crestfallen major domo, and consented for him to return to his ac-
customed duties. The latter had effaced all traces of his late con-
dition and appeared fresh, but serious, when his master's dinner was
served. The father's manner was austere and reserved during the
meal. He scarcely noticed Jose, and refrained from interrogating
him on the subject uppermost in his mind, for the reason that he
believed his steward had lied in answer to the questions asked him
in the morning. When he had concluded his repast he leaned over
the table in a thoughtful mood, mechanically using his goblet in
making circles on the cloth, until he had ringed the surface in front
of him into a score of interlaced figures.
Jose watched the proceedings with many misgivings, for he knew
lie was on the eve of receiving either a lecture or reprimand or some
order, that was to be the outcome of this deliberation. Finally the
pr'est broke the silence:
"Jose, I will not ask you to say if you know aught of the cause
of Senor Eaymond's disappearance, or why he did not occupy his
room last night. Still more will I refrain from pressing you to an
explanation of your own conduct and its resulting debauch. I will
say this, however, that you have incurred my serious displeasure, and
if you would make some atonement for the sin you have committed,
as well as for your attempt to conceal it, you will employ this after-
noon in making searching 1 inquiry for this young American who, I
fear, has been foully dealt with."
As Father Ignacio left the dining room, his auditor stood speech-
less, mentally relieved by the modified rebuke expressed in tones
which, while moderate, conveyed to the major domo the full measure
of a distrust, which he hoped the events of the afternoon and his own
ingenuity would remove.
As soon as Jose had disposed of a hasty repast, he set out for the
Calle de Carcel.
When Vasquez left, the vinoteria with his treasure he had not
tlio remotest idea of his destination. He had listened to the words
of T?uiz in all credulity and mentally resolved to let alone the
1 1 dopf < -d son of el presidents and to rely on concealment to escape any
116 GUY EAYMOND.
penalty for his mistake. Refuge with the Texans was the furthest
from his thoughts. The astonishment which first seized him when
Euiz proposed to entrust him with a sum of money was supplanted
by eagerness to possess it. His first precaution, on leaving the vino-
teria, was to watch for the exit of his benefactor, from a safe position
in a doorway. He soon saw him come out, supporting the unsteady
form of Jose, and turn up towards the plaza. He followed them
until the latter had been duly deposited in the hallway of the priest's
house, and he had seen the other walk briskly away and enter the
Calle Solidad at the northeast corner of the square. Satisfied that
Euiz had disappeared for the night, he hastened back to the Cabeza
de Toro. Before entering he sought the shadow of the carcel wall,
where an alley separated the two buildings, and taking the handker-
chief from his bosom, he undid the roll and deposited the silver in
the several pockets about his person. The coins chinked in spite of
his precautions and he dropped a piece, for which he groped about
for several minutes, raking the ground with his fingers. He uttered
an oath at his want of success, then hurriedly left and entered the
gambling 1 den, without having noticed two forms, which turned the
corner in time to hear a tell-tale clink of the silver to betray his
presence.
"Who was it ?" asked a voice.
"I saw his face as he went in the door and think it was Vasquez."
"He! With money?"
- "Perhaps he has been winning."
"Let us go in and watch him."
Vasquez's face wore the expression of supreme content as
stood over the gaming table and made his first bet. He became deeply
interested as the game continued and fortune favored him. His first
varying success now changed to one continuous flow of luck and so
absorbed him that he did not notice anything but the cards and the
dealer. Finally he lost. Another bet, and he lost again. He hesi-
tated as if uncertain what to do, watched the game a while, th
turned and left the place.
"Which way did he go?"
"To the left, down the street."
"You cross over. I will follow him on this side."
The two, who had heard the clink of silver in the alley, follow
Vasquez as he hurried in the direction of the old mill.
When Jose arrived at the Calle de Carcel he apparently changed
his mind, for he continued down the east side of the plaza until he
reached the door of the Monte Pio. He found the proprietor busy
GUY RAYMOND. 117
bargaining with some woman over several articles of jewelry, and
while waiting until he would be disengaged, he peered into the show-
case at the various articles of silver and gold ornaments, jewelry,
spurs, silk sashes, medals and other things of more or less value. His
attention was attracted by a silver medal of the virgin attached to a
string of pure, white beads, ingenously interwoven. He remembered
Guy's description of his lost trinket, and concluded that this new
addition to the monte pio's stock must be the medal lost in the camp
on the San Geronimo.
The Monte Pio saluted Jose gaily as he turned from his departing
customers.
"The very man I wanted to see."
"That accounts for my coming here instead of keeping on to the
carcel."
"My thoughts attracted you/'
"And why did you want to see me?"
"I have a letter a message and some money for you. The
money is to be in trust for but I will give you the letter and that
will explain."
Jose took the letter and opening it, read as follows :
"My Friend : I would have called to see you, but events have
happened which compel me to leave the city very suddenly. On ac-
count of my defense of the young American, the authorities, who
already distrusted me, have resolved on my arrest. I go from here
tho enemy of despotism, which is personated in Santa Anna, and am
resolved to never submit to it. I leave in the hands of the Monte
Pio thirty-eight and a half pesos, which is the balance of Senor
Raymond's winnings, after using what was required to get the fellow
Vasquez out of the way. T used a little artifice and fifty-one and a
ha'^f pesos to induce him to leave. It is pretty certain he will not
1)0 soen around town agnin shortly. You will doubtless be glad T
did not give him the whole ninety. I hope you have told Father
Ignacio all, and that he has taken steps for the release of that brave
young fellow. The only char ere against him will be his nationality,
and the good father can account for his presence in town.
"Your friend, Manuel Ruiz."
.Jose was so glad that Ruiz had saved a portion of the money, and
had disposed of Vasquez, that he forgot all about the medal in the
showcase. He directed the Monte Pio to retain the amount mentioned
in Ruiz's letter and arid it to the proceeds from the pony and saddle,
for the credit of Guy Raymond.
The major domo had scarcely left the Monte Pio's when a Mexi-
118 GUY RAYMOND.
can, dressed as a ranchero, rode up to the door, dismounted and
entered. The proprietor, who had just commenced to cast up the
amount of Senor Raymond's credit, looked up and asked the new-
comer what was wanted.
"I want to redeem my spurs," he replied, showing a ticket.
After glancing at the bit of pasteboard, the other took down a
pair of spurs, whose huge rowells were out of all proportion.
"So, Pedro, you have made a raise."
"Si, senor, I won twenty pesos at the cock fight."
"Better get that handsome sash, now you have the money."
"What is the price of this medal, with the white beads?" asked
Pedro.
"That? Let me see; you can have it at a bargain. I bought it
from one of the mozos who came with Father Ignacio from the Rio
Grande. Take it for four pesos."
"Es demasiado," remonstrated Pedro.
"Too much! It is worth seven."
"I will give you twenty reals for it."
"You are a good customer, Pedro. Take the medal, if I lose by it.
But where are you going, dressed like a ranchero? On more busi-
ness for the Colonel?"
"I have a pretty dangerous errand before me. This disguise is
furnished by the Colonel. The sight of that medal made me think
it well to go under the 'protection of our good mother. I will get it
blessed and wear it on my trip."
"You are right, Pedro. The Blessed Virgin never deserts those
who appeal to her for protection. The times are getting dangerous
and it is well to be prudent."
"Adios, senor."
"Adios, Pedro."
"Only twelve reals profit on that medal," mused the Monte Pio,
as he watched Pedro secure- his lariat to his saddle, mount his pony
and ride away.
* * * *
When Guy was startled from his reverie by Linda's touch he
was pleased, but not surprised, to find that the jailer's daughter and
the girl he had danced with the night before were one and the same
person. She was not at all abashed when she encountered the look
of the young prisoner. Her face wore an engaging expression, illum-
ined by a quiet smile, characteristic of the sisterhood of her race, that
meant half to encourage, half to pity a misfortune which she would
fain remove.
GUY EAYMOND. 119
"Does the senor remember me?"
"I could not fail to remember the only woman I have spoken to
in Bexar."
She answered him with a. smile.
"So, you are Linda."
"My father has been telling you my name," she said, looking into
his eyes. "I am afraid you found him very rude."
"No, he amused me. He has been quite good to me. You see,
he has allowed me the liberty of this court. Perhaps I owe this favor
partly to you?"
She only smiled.
"My father worships money. You must not let him impose on
you, for he will want you to pay for everything he does for you.
If you have .much money do not let him know it."
"You are very kind, Linda, to take this interest in a stranger."
"It is a part of our religion, senor. The men of our people are
so cruel, but God has made our women with tender hearts."
"Do you live here, inside this carcel?"
"Si, senor."
"Are you not lonely here.?"
"Sometimes; but when I am I can go to the Alameda in the
evening. I go to mass every morning, and now and then I enjoy a
dance at the Cabeza de Toro."
What a difference there is in ideas of the proprieties when viewed
from the standpoint of race custom, thought Guy. Here is a pretty,
sympathetic, religious girl who could attend festivities without im-
pairing her good name, which the Puritan mind would condemn as
a debauch, and which even the license of a more liberal social code
of his people would pronounce immoral, held, as they were, under
the shadow of a place devoted to the demoralizing vice of gaming.
But here race characteristics intervene to extenuate practices whose
evil tendencies are merely co-extensive with actual effects produced
on race morals, and to point to the difference between customs in-
grained in a peculiar civilization and habits confined to the more
vicious and disreputable haunts of a more enlightened and progressive
population. Gambling among Mexicans is only a degree less natural
than is dancing, and with them dancing is one of the necessities of
a contented existence.
"And does not the padre object to your going to the Cabeza de
Toro one day, and to mass the next?"
"Why should he ? One must dance."
"You think, then, that dancing is as necessary as praying?"
120 GUY EAYMOND.
"I go to San Fernando in the morning for mass, and you know,
senor, the bailes and fandangos are at night,"
"Are you going to dance tonight, Linda?"
"No, senor. Tomorrow is the Feast of the Holy Eosary."
"Then it is not right to dance on the eve of this feast?"
"It is not if I go to confession; and I must confess this after-
noon. After confession I must be very quiet and think of nothing
but my communion in the morning."
"You are a good girl, Linda; I can hardly believe that you are
Bonito's daughter."
"He says I am; but sometimes I doubt it, especially when he
tries to make me promise to marry the monte pio."
"The monte pio?"
"Si,- senor. He lives on the plaza, and he is very rich."
"And why won't you marry him?"
"He is old enough to be my father."
"But he is so rich."
"I could not love him, senor; and with all his riches, he made
his first wife work like a peon, and he is ugly and "
"Then I would not marry him, Linda."
A loud knocking at the door interrupted them and Linda went
for her father, who had already retired for his siesta. When, after
a lapse of a few moments, that worthy appeared, the knocking had
been repeated several times. He was terribly cross at having been
disturbed and jowered and grumbled as he crossed the court:
"A poor devil can't take a siesta."
"Tonto!" he continued, on a fresh recurrence of the summons,
"can't you wait until a fellow can get to the door? It is a dog's
life at best; run my legs off, and after all it will be some one to ask
after that pajarro."
"Quien es ?" he shouted, as he half introduced the key in the lock.
"Yo, Jose."
"Jose! Jose!" and Bonito contemptuously made his voice still
more effiminate. Then he replied to the candidate for admittance:
"No conozco, yo, Jose Jose diablo?"
"Jose, el major domo," suggested Linda.
"Who told you to answer?" asked Bonito between his teeth.
"You are putting on airs before this pajarro Americano."
"What do you want here?" he shouted, with the key still untun
in the lock.
"El padre Ignacio sent me to see you."
"See me?"
GUY RAYMOND. 121
"Si, senor; on business."
The key shot back the bolt, the heavy door slowly swung, and
Jose was in the court. Without noticing the jailer, he passed quickly
over to Guy and saluted him warmly.
"That is fine business with me," said Bonito, locking the door and
casting a savage look at the two.
"It seems like a whole week since last night," said Jose.
He soon posted Guy on all that had transpired outside the carcel
as a sequel to their misadventure.
Bonito interrupted them so often with his growling and demands
to know Jose's business that Guy used a little artifice to silence him.
He said to Jose:
"I want you to go to the monte pio and get me some money. I
owe my friend, the jailer, a small sum and must pay him."
The change in Bonito's face was instantaneous and he subsided at
once when Jose signified his willingness to comply.
Guy regained his elasticity of spirits when he became informed
of the service which Ruiz had rendered him, and regretted the neces-
sity that forced his benefactor to leave the city. When Jose had
exhausted every other topic, he remembered the medal he had seen
in the show-case.
"I am certain I saw the medal which your Indian girl gave you,
senor. It was lying snugly in the show-case at the monte pio's, but
I was so full of joy to know that all of your winnings did not go
to the villian Vasquez that I forgot to ask who had pawned it, or
sold it, rather, for the monte pio has it for sale."
"Be sure, Jose, to tell him to keep it for me at any price."
"That shows you are a poor trader. I will not let him know that
you, or any one, places any value on it. I will price it with much
indifference, beat him down afterwards on the amount he will ask,
and then take it very reluctantly. Senor, you don't know the monte
pio."
"Well, at all events, secure it."
Jose promised to see after the medal at once, to execute Guy's
directions about the money, and then hasten to inform his master
that he had discovered the young American. Guy added a request
that he procure for him, from the monte pio, one or more books,
provided he had any, as reading or study would help pass away the
time.
"If Linda would go with me, she could bring you the money and
the book, while I go to inform Father Ignacio."
122 GUY EAYMOND.
Linda was quite willing to act on Jose's suggestion, and going
for her rebosa, accompanied him out into the street.
"You are the worst prisoner I ever had."
"How so, Bonito?"
"It is lock and unlock, open and shut, run here and run there.
A person can't be still a minute. If this keeps up I will get so
thin that I won't be able to keep my clothes on, and I will wear out
a pair of slippers a week. The two reals for your meals that I
don't furnish and the three you are to pay me (that makes five)
will not make up for the damages outside of my loss of flesh. Do
you think the monte pio will send the money ?"
"No doubt of it. But see here, Mr. Bonito, you are raising on
me. The price I was to pay for walking out here was to be two
reals, instead of three. But we won't quarrel about one real. My
talk with Linda is worth the extra one."
"I will bet she said nonsense enough. Senor Pajarro your name
will slip my memory '
"Eaymond."
"Eaymondo ?"
"That is good enough. Perhaps you will remember that better."
"Bueno; but what was I going to say? Was it about the four
reals you are to pay me?"
"Come now, Bonito. You raised it to three a while ago; now
you've got it to four. It was about Linda you were going to speak.
You were saying she spoke nonsense."
"Ah, si, me acuerdo. It. was not about the five reals. It was
about Linda. Si, senor, about Linda L-i-n-d-a. She was to return
with the money f-i-v-e reals yes, five ; it was not six, was it, senor ?
You very properly corrected me when I said six; I will not forget
again."
"Your memory is so treacherous, old fellow, that I fear for your
sanity."
"My memory sometimes fails me, Senor Raymondo; but never
about money. You remember I said it was only six. Linda stays
long. Old and fat as I am, I could have been back before this. If
the monte pio was twenty years younger and better looking, I would
be suspicious that she was dilly-dallying in his shop. But no such
good luck. The tonta has not sense enough to marry him, when he is
c-r-a-z-y for her and r-i-c-h."
When Bonito pronounced the word "rich" he shut one eye tightly
and ran out his great tongue in the most comical manner, to better
convey his conception of the plethoric state of the monte pio's ex-
GUY RAYMOND. 123
checquer. A light tap at the door was sufficient to rouse the activities
of the grasping old jailer who, on the qui vive for the sounds of
Linda's coming, lost no time in admitting her. She handed to Guy
a few pieces of silver, which act was closely watched by her father.
"Bonito, I had better settle with you before you raise the figures
much higher. Shall I pay you those seven reals ?"
"Seven, senor! Was it seven? Not eight although it might
have been ; but, senor, you are a man of honor ; I leave it to you."
Guy tossed him a peso.
"It was eight, sure enough ! I said, senor, that my memory was
always good about mone} r ."
He dropped the piece into his pocket and shuffled off to his room,
doubtless to deposit it with his hoarded treasure.
"Here is a notebook and pencil which Senor Jose sent you/' said
Linda.
"Had the monte pio no books?"
"Here are two old ones he bought long ago, and as they are old
and damaged he said the charge for them would be very small."
As she spoke she took from beneath her rebosa two delapidated
volumes and handed them to her companion. The back of the first
was gone. He turned the fly leaf and read, in his own handwriting :
"Guy Raymond."
It was his Virgil ! A film passed over his pupils, as he read the
name and recognized his book, until the letters faded and left the
pa;?e a blank. His knees grew weak; he sank clown upon the
bench and leaned against the prison wall. The other volume was
clutched in his fingers, still unnoticed when his sight grew clear and
the letters grew plain again:
"Guy Raymond."
He laid down the book.
Before he raised the lid of the other, his eye caught the title upon
the back:
"AGE OF REASON."
Upon the flyleaf of this he read the name :
"Paul Raymond"
written in the bold hand of his father. How strange! These two
volumes had found their way to him, to use all their mute eloquence,
to rouse from the recesses of his bosom the memories of a happy past,
and to paint, in vivid colors, its terrible finale. The whole panorama
passed before him : the spring, the grove, the murmuring current, the
dead panther and the nearly fatal shot, the smoking ruin and his
.captivity. These silent witnesses of the tragedy, these sad reminders
124 GUY RAYMOND.
of a thousand tender recollections, that linked successively the rec-
ords of his young life,, had escaped destruction to be rescued in muti-
lated form by alien hands. "Oh, Stella! Stella! Can it be that
you survive? If I had but Rolla with me now to give a whine of
sympathy!" He laid the second book down by its companion, and
realized that Linda was watching him with great solicitude depicted
in her countenance.
CHAPTER XVIII.
It was late in the afternoon before Father Ignacio returned from
the cathedral. Without the assistance of Jose he had to devote more
of his time to the arrangements and changes he had contemplated
making in the decorations of the grand altar; and when the duties
in this direction had been discharged he had to attend to the spir-
itual wants of those of his people who claimed him for confessor.
These were not a few, and by the time the row of kneeling figures
who, enveloped in their flowing rebosas, lined his side of the church
had told their faults and the last shriven penitent had issued from
the great front portals the sun was looking red and dull from the tops
of the western hills.
The good man had often thought of his young American friend
during his varied occupation of the day and wondered what his way-
ward major domo was doing to discover him. His own time was so
nearly filled that he could not often carry out his own wishes, be-
cause to do so would encroach upon some duty he owed to his sacred
office. But for this he would have sallied forth in quest of Guy when
he discovered he had not slept in the room assigned to him. He
was met by his major domo as he was about to issue from the
closure of the church.
"Well, Jose, what news?"
"Good news, and bad news, Father."
"You found him ?"
"In the carcel."
"Arrested by the patrol ?"
"By the patrol. It appears that a fellow accused him of killing
his brother and taking the horse his brother was riding; but Senor
Raymond was arrested for fighting and whipping his accuser. His
being an American is also, perhaps, against him."
"I will write a note to the Colonel and maybe we can get him out
tonight," said Father Ignacio, in a half meditative jonn. as he
walked away towards his house.
GUY BAYMOXD. 125
"Were you unwell just now, senor?" asked Linda, when Guy had
laid down the volume, in which was written the name of his father.
"Not unwell, Linda. Those books you brought me were mine,
years ago. My name is writ-ten in this, my father's name in that.
SOP. look for yourself." ,
She looked as requested.
"That is my name. I wrote it there, myself. It is my Virgil, a
hook I studied when I was learning a language from which your own
beautiful tongue has been largely drawn. These books made me re-
member happy days days that never can return."
"Jose spoke of your Indian girl, who gave you a medal. Was
she with you in those happy days?"
"No, Linda, The great sorrow of my life, the time which ended
those happy days, was the cause of my meeting the Indian girl of
whom Jose spoke. Her tribe took me captive and but for Laoni
this body of mine would have been burned to cindeis on a fire already
lighted for ray destruction/ 5
"Laoni. Was that her name?"
"Yes, the dnuirhter of the Lipan chief."
"She saved your life?"
"She did."
"She must have loved you. Was she good and pretty? All Indian
women I have seen wore anything but good looking."
"Laoni was an exception. She bad none of the savage in her
nature. No truer heart ever beat than hers. Her form was perfect,
her features intelligent and regular and her step elastic. Unfor-
tunately, she loved me too well ; but she would not leave her father
to escape with me."
Bonito here called for Linda, in a half angry tone, and she left
her companion to himself.
Guy examined the notebook which Jose had sent him and dis-
covered it to be a very plain affair, containing about twenty leaves
of blank paper. His object in sending for it was to amuse himself
by writing, in the event that be should be kept in confinement for
a number of days. He turned to the first page to record the date of
his arrival in the city, when he discovered that his pencil was a
new one and had never been sharpened. Having no knife, he ap-
pro; ir-hed Bonito's door and called :
"Bonito !"
That individual was fussing with Linda, who appeared at the
door, with her rebosa thrown over her head and shoulders, her father
rUY
following. The daughter had requested him to let her out that she
might go to confession, and he was complaining at being disturbed.
"If this Kaymondo would keep in his cell I could leave the corridor
open and you could confess fifty times a day and not disturb me once."
"Well then, Bonito," said Guy, who had been hitherto unobserved
by the grumbler, "I will remain in my cell tomorrow and perhaps
you will miss the money which I would have to pay if I used the
privilege of the court."
The jailor was so well caught that he made his way doggedly and
silent to dismiss his daughter. On returning from the door, he
approached close to Guy and, in nn Apologetic undertone, assured
him that no one could comprehend 'how vexatious was Linda at
times and that he must not mind the hasty words used by him when
out of humor.
"I'll not mention it again, Bonito, if you will lend me your knife
to sharpen this pencil."
"Prisoners have no business with knives. After sharpening the
pencil, you could cut my throat," said the old fellow, drawing from
his pocket and opening a long-bladed knife.
"You are a cunning pajarro. 1 will cut your pencil for you."
So saying Bonito took the pencil and surprised the other by the
dexterity he used in fashioning a point.
"Thank you," said Guy, as the pencil was handed to him. "Yon
have sharpened pencils before. But you forget that I am on parole
to not attempt to escape; and therefore,, your throat would be safe
if I had a dozen knives."
"Ah! Paroles are good enough to talk about; but they are con-
tinually broken."
"By Mexicans, perhaps."
"By all nations. I have seen pirates keep their paroles, in
intercourse with pirates. Lafitte had honor, but it was the
honor to be found among thieves. Paroles are binding as long as
it is less dangerous to observe than to break them. Senor Raymondo
is young yet."
"Were you acquainted with Lafitte ?"
"It would not help you to know it. Sometimes people ask too
many questions."
The jailer shuffled off to his den as he said this and Guy, turning
to his bench, seated himself to try his pencil. The means of writing
had not been within his reach since the distraction of his home. He
began to write on the first page :
"Arrived in San Antonio October, 1835. Escaped from the
GUY RAYMOND. 127
Lipan village, on the San Saba, four days before. The night
before entering the town I camped with, a party on the San
Geronimo creek. The party conHsfcd of Father Ignacio of the Ca-
thedral of San Fernando, his major doino and two inozos leading
pack-mules. Also with the party was a Senor Gonzales, who was evi-
dently a man of some rank. The latter probably used an assumed
name. On this creek 1 must have lost my medal. From Jose's de-
scription of a, medal in ihe pawn broker's ii must be the one I lost.
Owing to a difficulty I had at Ihe Hull's Head (Cabeza de Toro) T
\vas put in this prison ihe night of the same day of mv arrival in
the town. The night of my arrest I was betting at monte and had
singular luck, coining out winner ninety Mexican dollars (pesos).
Notwithstanding my success it may be my last indulgence in gam-
bling. 'Bonito' is the name of my jailer. Tie is an oddity. Gross,
flabby and rotund, he is a mere animal. His memory is very elastic
whore particular amounts of change are involved. The old villain
went from one real to seven, as the charge for my remaining in the
court of the prison during the day. When I tossed him eight, he
took the entire amount. Linda bears no resemblance to him. One
would never suspect the close relationship of father and daughter.
The old man has not given her many advantages; yet how well she
speaks! Bonito uses very good language, however. I must tell Jose
to bring Rolla, if I stay here, lie must miss me! Poor dog! He
has been faithful through all our adventures. Adventures! We
had a plenty the last (wo \cars. The first opportunity I intend to
write the story of my captivity. It would be interesting reading.
But I will not be content to do anything until I can know of Stella's
fate. I wonder what ever become of Mr. Tr
As Guy reached this far with his scribbling, Bonito passed to the
corridor and admitted his daughter, who had returned from her duty
at the church. She hastened over to the young American and, with
one of her pleasant smiles, informed him that she had just left Father
Ignacio and Jose in consultation in front of San Fernando and that
she was quite sure they were talking about him and the chances for
his release. Her father cut short their interview by reminding her
that duties unperformed awaited her indoors, and if she gossiped
much longer he would have to go without supper. It had grown so
late that Guy did not return to his writing, but walked up and down
Ihe court for exercise, thinking about a thousand and one things
bonrim: on his past, present and future. A strange fate seemed to
be in pursuit, of him ever since Ihe eventful Sunday on the Salado.
Vet, when the heavy hand of wrong had crowded him to the verge
128 GUY EAYMOND.
of disaster, the genius of pity had waved back the oppressor and
developed saving influences to shield and .protect him. When bloody
and disfigured from his wounded scalp the savage heart of Chicha
softened. The renegade Pedro had counselled him to turn Lipan for
safety. Laoni's was the crowning favor, and her subsequent devotion
to his interests was second only to the love she bore her father. The
good priest and Jose were now his friends of a few hours, while the
chivalry of Ruiz had made him an ally simultaneous with an intro-
duction.
Old Bonito broke up his meditations.
"Senor Eaymondo must go to his cell. It is time for the sentinel
to take his post in the court. Here is a blanket and a pillow that
rattle-brained girl said I must bring for you. I furnish this and not
a quartilla of pay do I get for it not a quartilla, senor."
Guy followed him., not heeding his gabble. Once in his cell, he
prepared his bed and had just laid himself down, when the door was
opened, disclosing Bonito with a lighted candle.
"Here is a piece of candle that will last you for an hour or so,
and here are the books you left on the bench."
"Thanks, Bonito."
"Don't thank Bonito. If she had her way a prison would be a
palace, and prisoners would be treated like princes. Good night,
senor."
"Good night, Bonito."
The tramp of the relief was heard in the corridor as the jailer
gained the court and, a minute more, a sentinel was walking the
usual post, Bonito hung the lantern over his door, then disappeared
within, muttering his satisfaction that the day's duties were over.
The sentinel crossed to the bench that Guy had occupied, picked
up something, examined it for a moment, then slipped it in his pocket.
It was the notebook in which Guy had been writing.
The light in the cell, struggling through the high, narrow window
until a late hour told that the prisoner was making the most of his
piece of candle. Its flame, though feeble to illumine, possessed giant
power to dispel the oppressiveness of solitude in confinement. With
light, books are appreciable companions ; they speak to our reason ;
they supply the motive power to thought to bear us away on the
wings of speculation to the transcendant fields of the conceptual or
the ideal world. Guy's library was limited, but his two books wore
old friends. With these we will leave him to commune, until til IP
flickering light will linvo warned him that he must seek solace from
a slumber now easier to woo through Linda's thoughtfulness.
GUY 1 1 AY MONO. 129
CHAPTER XIX.
The Feast of the Holy Eosary was destined to be brig] it' and sunny.
The chime of San Fernando pealed a merry melody as the hour
arrived to summons the faithful to the grand high mass, which was
to be offered in honor of the day. The crowd at the entrance to the
cathedral grounds presented a conglomerate of the population. The
scarlet sash of the young swell and the gaudy uniform of the military
mingled with the plainer dross of tlio average oiti/on, these coufrasi-
ing wiih the dirt and rags of the proletariat, and the slouch y garment
of tlio barofooted common soldiery. A redeeming feature of the
scene \VMS the presence of a mo\ing line of female passers who, half
enveloped in rebosas of every hue, moved gracefully through the crowd
io ihe grand porlal of Hie edifice. The-e latter disclosed features vary-
ing from those bordering on Hie pure Indian to the more delicate 1
types which approached nearer to the Castillian. The throng had
parted to let them pass and manv a robosa was more tightly drawn,
to evade the rude inspection of the crowd, or the bra/en stare of a
group of voting bloods who, standing near the gateway, indulged in
a r"\ iew of those who eniercd.
"Here comes the princess/ 5 said one of the party.
"She moves like one." 1 said another.
"Don Juan spoiled her bv an American education,'' said the first.
speaker.
-Mow so, Sancho?"
"She has little use, for "Mexicans and has, doubtless, lost her heart-
in (he United State-," replied Sancho.
As Sancho spoke, the lady, who had been the subject of their
remarks, swept by them with a nod of recognition, and passed on
into the church.
"A beauty, and no mistake! She has a. proud look and a foreign
air that (ells plainlv she has not, passed all her davs in Bexar. What
is her name, Sancho ?"
"Sciiorita Beatrice Xavarro. Tim younger daughter of Don Juan
arro, a man of prominence IH-IV. His elder danghtrr was the
widow of Perez, now (he wife of an American."
our princess been back from school long?"
"But a twelvemonth, and she already has broken the hearts of
(wo suit
''Say you so? Who, pray, are the unfortunates?"
130 GUY RAYMOND.
"Captain Castanado, the first; Manuel Ruiz, the second victim."
"Ruiz ! He is the one who so recently disappeared ?"
"The same. He is a traitor to Mexico, and I trace his treason to
this girl's American proclivities. I tell you, she is puro Gringo.
Her sister's husband is a Gringo and poor Don Juan, their father,
is greatly under their influence."
As Sancho ceased speaking, a confusion in the crowd attracted
the attention of the group around him. The approach of four men,
bearing a litter, proved to be the cause of the commotion, while a
closer inspection disclosed that they bore a human form, covered
with a coarse cloth from the head to the waist. The bearers set their
burden down near the edge of the acequia, as if to rest.
"What have you here, friends?" asked Sancho.
"We do not know, senor. We are taking the body to the office
of the Alcalde.
Sancho lifted the cloth from the face of the dead, and was
startled to discover the rigid features of A'asquez, his hair and cloth-
ing wet and dripping, while a ghastly cut laid open his throat from
ear to ear.
"For Dios !" he exclaimed. "It is Vasquez, the fellow who used
to hang around the Cabeza de Toro."
"The very fellow," said one of the litter bearers. "I recognize him
now since you have named him. The last time I saw him he was
with Manuel Ruiz, coming out of the monte pio's."
"That is important to remember/' said Sancho. "But where did
you find the body?"
"By the old mill, senor, in the eddy between the rapids."
The presence of th'e ghastly spectacle added to the motley throng
which now blocked the walk and prevented ingress to the cathedral,
whence issued the loud tones of the organ, indicating the commence-
ment of the service. A way was finally made for the litter bearers,
who resumed their burden and proceeded on thir way. The crowd
receded from the gateway and perceptihlv thinned as the complement
of proletarians furnished an escort for the murdered Yastpiez, while
ihe most respectable element either entered the church or lingered a
while before following their inclinations as to immediate points of
destination.
"Are you going in to mass, Sancho?" asked one of his com-
panions, who, alone of the late group, still lingered near him.
"No, Carlos. I believe I will follow thai corpse. I feel a singular
interest in this murder; yet, to tell the truth, 1 cannot tell why."
GUY RAYMOND. l;)l
"Well then, adios. You may turn detective; but as for me, I am
going in to see how the princess looks at prayers/"
"Like other women, doubtless, unless it be to eyes whose owner
is deeply enamored, like poor Castanado, or the traitor, Ruiz."
"Bueno ! Amigo, mio. Adios, hasta la tarde."
The two friends parted. The one followed the litter, now well
up the street; the other entered the church, now crowded by the
kneeling or seated figures of the congregation. The old church would
have presented a scene at once novel and weird, to the eye of a
si ranger. The high, dark walls reflected none of the struggling light
from the narrow openings, and the moon-like glow which fell in
mellow waves from the ample dome lent a ghostly appearance to
objects below, while deep shades rested in the angles of the trans-
eept. The tall tapers upon the grand altar illuminated the western
extension with an unsteady light that caused shadows to dance across
the surface of a mammoth painting of the crucifixion, which extended
from wall to wall, and from the tabernacle to the high triple window
overlooking it. The solemn chant of the Kyre Klison lent, its influ-
ence to weave a magic charm in an already impressive scene. MS the
choir responded to the celebrant who, with outstretched arms, was
invoking the descent of the man-Clod to the tcrrestial altar. The
congregation did not, appeal- in svmpathv with the sublime conception
mv >lved in the august sacrifice, for there was a calmness and notable
absence of devotion in their facial expressions which indicated me-
chanical performance of exercises, ingrained into their natures by
the accidents of birth and i raining. 'The entrance of two persons at
I lie conclusion of the Kvro 'Klison caused the turning of manv heads
lo get a look at the late comers, who, seemingly not satisfied with
icinute positions, were pushing their way nearer to the altar. One
of them, a youth just, entered into manhood, rather hesitated to obey
the girl companion, but her significant motions decided him to follow
her th rough the crowd of kneeling worshipers. The ^irl, a brunette,
seemed perfectly at ease as she led the way to a position which she
e\iiletitly had aimed to occupy. She knelt at once and. crossing her-
self, arranged her rebos;i, then looked complacently around the
church. Her companion, taking a place close at. hand, leaned grace-
full v against the northern wall. He took in the situation with a look
of blended interest and curiosity. His eye kindled with intelligence
as he comprehended, first, the words of the Gloria, then the (Vedo,
from the choir, followed, in the progress of the mass, by the chanting
of tin- hiter Nosier by the celebrant. (Juy for it was he owed his
jo master languages from his proficiency in the Latin. The
132 GUY RAYMOND.
first time he had ever witnessed a celebration of the mass, yet he
found he was able to comprehend the drift of its cermonies. In this
fact he recognized the splendid tact of the Church of Rome in adopt-
ing a universal and unchanging language as a fundamental requisite
for the establishment of a universal faith. He was pursuing this
train of thought in oblivion to the personnel of the congregation,
feeling his own superiority to these unread and credulous votaries
of a traditional religion, when a lady, who had been kneeling near,
arose and turned to leave the church. As her face became revealed,
it appeared to Guy to be very beautiful, and when she passed close
by him, their eyes met for an instant. It was but for an instant; yet
both received a shock from the encountering glances. In the lady's
case it might have been from surprise; with the gentleman it was
doubtless surprise, reinforced by ill-concealed admiration. The latter
had not imagined that within the bounds of Bexar there dwelt so fair
a woman. It is to be presumed that, next to an apparition, the
unexpected presence of the handsome youth, with blonde complexion
and unmistakeable Anglo-Saxon lineage, would most 1 surprise the
lady. Carlos had signified his curiosity to witness her at prayers,
while Sancho might turn detective. She was the "princess" of their
conversation and now he had seen her at her devotions. Carlos was
on the opposite side of the church when Beatrice Navarro rose to
leave. He had, been closely watching her and had observed the ex-
changed glances between Guy and the beauty. The eyes of the two
men met. Those of Carlos expressed defiance. Guy turned to follow
with a last look the retreating form, then sought the eyes across the
way, which had so plainly indicated disapprobation. They were still
fixed upon him and the menace of their expression was unmistak-
able. He thought perhaps he had aroused the ire of a jealous lover,
and simply smiled in answer to all the look might mean. The
remainder of the mass apparently claimed his attention, as had done
the earlier exercises, but a lovely face was pictured in conjunction
with every object mirrored in his vision. His thoughts recurred but
once to the jealous lover, and coincident with the thought he glanced
in his direction, but Carlos had disappeared. He concluded to whisper
to Linda, whom he had accompanied to church, and make inquiry
about the lady whose beauty had so impressed him, but on turning:
to carry out his intention, he found that she, too, was missinjr. He
felt like taking himself oft 3 at this discovery. The appearance of
Father Ignacio, however, as he left the chancel to ascend to the
pulpit, altered his mind, and he resigned himself to the hearing of
a Spanish sermon.
GUY EAYMOND. 133
The good father took for his text, "He Hint will not hear the
church, let him be to you a heathen and a publican."
From the consideration of this command he drifted to the special
injunction of the church to practice the devotions peculiar to the
uses of the Eosary, and reminded the faithful of the special indul-
gences which had been from time to time granted by the sovereign
pontiff to those who had frequent recourse to means so potent for
salvation. The father was a llnenl speaker, but his audience was
-'ntiv apathetic-, (luy himself, interested from the sheer novelty
of the points of faith discussed, observed the listlessncss of the con-
gregation and concluded it was due to the frequency of these feast-
day discourses about a religion rendered too familiar by an unchang-
ing routine which offered no room for animal excitement or emotional
(lisplav. He sauntered out of the place when the congregation had
been dismissed, intending to wait' at the gate for the priest, who must
out at the front on his way home. He made his way through
th-- crowd of women, of whose sex four-fifths of the attendants were
composed, and reached the open air in time to see Jose just' leaving
the gate. He was about to call to him, when a touch upon his
shoulder caused him. to turn, and he saw Linda by his side.
"Ah, runaway!" he exclaimed, "why did yon leave me among all
these people?"
"I thought sen or could take care of himself anywhere, and surely,
in <ur holy church you needed no protection."
"But you missed a good sermon, Linda. Father Tgnacio told us
all about 'the Holy Eosary, and of all the indulgences to be obtained
by bead praying."
"It was good for you to hear, because you are no Catholic. \W
it so often. . You are a Protestant, senor?"
"T am no Protestant, Linda."
"N"o? You have no religion ?"
"Yes duty."
"T never heard of more than two ; Catholics and Protestants,
is the true faith, senor. for Father Tgnacio says so."
ell, Linda, you continue to do and believe as the father tells
He will never give you bad advice."
will, senor."
'ell me, Linda, why you left the church before mass was over/'
y do you ask?"
"Curiosity"
"Do vou imagine my leaving concerned you?" she asked, looking
him archly.
134 GUY KAYMOND.
"Not especially. But you were my companion and it seems to
me if you had not wished to conceal your going you would have let
me know about it."
"But the padre would have been displeased, had he seen me
speak with you at mass."
"You could have given me a sign. Tell me the truth, and sa}'
that your leaving did concern me."
"If you will not urge me, perhaps I will tell you the next time
I see you."
"Now I am sure it concerned me."
"And I am sure I will see you very soon."
"Adios, senor," and Linda left him with a smile and a look that
accused him of possessing an abundant share of curiosity.
Guy mused as follows :
"Perhaps her leaving the church just after she left it, are incidents
between which there may exist some privity. And if this be true,
how can I be concerned with either incident? T never will forget
those eyes of hers."
Father Ignacio overtook him a few steps further on and slapping
him familiarly on the shoulder, greeted him cordially.
"I was glad to see you at mass. From the carcel to the cathedral.
If you were only a good Catholic I would have thought that your
purpose was to give thanks for your liberation."
"My thanks are due to a more definite benefactor. But for you
I would be a prisoner still.'
"The Colonel was not very willing to trust you, but I had no
trouble with my friend, General Cos."
"He arrived after iny arrest?"
"Yesterday."
"Are there any charges against me?"
"There were some, but your accuser has disappeared."
"My parole then will be good until my accuser shows himself
"That I cannot answer. What you have to do is to keep qui
and get into no more scrapes. Your nationality is against you. Sen
Maverick and two other Americans were sent out of the lines yester-
day. Had it not been for these charges you would have been se
out with them."
"That would have suited me, for I long to join my countryme:
"You will be safer by remaining with me, provided always y
follow my advice."
"But Father, my inaction here is chafing me while the country
is in arms. And then if I were at liberty I could begin (lie search
for my dear little sister."
GUY RAYMOND. 135
"Tune, senor, but remember always, that the truly brave are
patient and self-commanding."
Jose met them at the door and announced that dinner was ready
to be served.
CHAPTEE XX.
Guy also attended vespers on the Feast of the Holy Rosary, going
to the cathedral with his reverend host. The sparse congregation
surprised him as he glanced around after the singing had com-
menced. The afternoon service had several rival attractions in this
typical Mexican town, chief among which were the cockfights, a
sport dear to Mexican hearts, not alone for the excitement produced
loj the battles in the pit, but as a gambling device. The cockpits
were always well attended Sunday afternoons by votaries who had
performed their religious duties by mass attendance in the morning.
Among the faces, half concealed by the draperies of the national
wrap, he vainly searched for that of the beautiful lady whose mo-
mentary glance had so electrified him. That face had haunted him
ever since and turn his thoughts into never so remote a channel, the
fair apparition would form a part of the mental picture wrought by
his reflections. After vespers, which he enjoyed as a diversion from
the prospective dullness of the afternon, he rejoined Father Ignacio
in the sitting room of the priest's house, where the latter repaired to
enjoy a smoke and a rest after the good work of the day.
Guy, as has been already hinted, professed no religion as taught
by orthodox creeds, but had been raised a free thinker. He had been
taught to rise above mysticism in his inquiries after the truths of
existence, to view nature and her laws from the standpoints of reason
and experience, aided by actual discovery and scientific development.
He found himself now in the very atmosphere of orthodoxy with a
I ii M'<tly host and benefactor whose honest work and pure life seemed
to combat the negations of infidelity and demonstrate a heaven-born
inspiration. He could not resist such reflections as he watched the
placid expression of the handsome features of the priest. He finally
opened the conversation.
"Father Ignacio, I would like to ask you if, in pure reason, you
actually believe that the use of rosaries are necessary for salvation."
"Yes and no," the priest replied. "It is not necessary for salvation
thai you use beads to pray, but if you reject the use of the rosary,
tlirnuo-}, rebellion to the authority of the Holy Church, which lias
decided that it is a help to devotion, or if you bring ridicule on
136 GUY RAYMOND.
customs adopted by her authority, you will be guilty of mortal sin,
and through mortal sin one will surely be lost, without contrition and
penance."
"All this which you say is predicated on the divine mission of the
church which, having such origin, is infallible., making her decrees
the commands of the Creator."
"Senor Raymond is quite right."
"Then your position is absolutely unassailable, granting your
premises which affirm the incarnation of God in Christ."
"And Senor Raymond does not believe in the incarnation?"
"Not more than in the incarnations of Vishnu."
"Those were extravagant superstitions."
"I admit that."
"The incarnation of our God was a long-looked for event by a
chosen people who were for many general ions under the immediate
protection of heaven, and in constant communication with fhe Creator,
who appeared often to the prophets. Besides, the niir:ieles of Christ
aiir! the works of his followers fully substantiate his claims to
divinity."
"These are all potent arguments, my good Kaiher, and 1 presume
neither of us could convince the other. I merely want to learn some-
thing of your views about rosaries and those indulgences you preached
about this morning."
"Indulgences are those bugbears which make the Protestants rave
so much. They construe them into licenses to commit sin. An in-
dulgence can be gained only through earnest prayers and good works,
and instead of being pardons for sins to bo committed, they are remis-
sions of temporal punishment for sin already committed; [ire condi-
tioned on valid performances of good works and sincerity of prayers.
Rosaries were doubtless first introduced for the illiterate, but they
became endeared to the faithful and, when blessed, are without doubt
great incentives to devotion."
"You have many such helps to holiness. The scapulars, medals
and pictures are also regarded as very necessary auxiliaries in the
attainment of heaven, are they not?"
"They are certainly reminders of the sacrifices which a loving God
has made for us directly and through His saints and are no more
objectionable than the pri/ed mementoes and portraits of our lovod
ones who have preceded us into eternity."
"That is a very reasonable view, hut I have hoard that some
Catholics attach undue virtue to articles Ibal ha\e been blessed, sucl
as beads, medals, candles and wafer, and imagine fhaf their m-
:
GUY BAYMOND. 137
possession will ward off evil. We once had an Irishman in our em-
ploy, a Mr. Trigg, who owned a blessed candle and a bottle of holy
water. To these he all ached the greatest importance. I remember
one night., there was a terrible blow which threatened to increase to
a hurricane. We were all very much alarmed, when Mr. Trigg pro-
duced his piece of candle and. lighiing it, assured us that ;is long
as it continued to burn we need not fed uneasy. On asking an ex-
planation he state*] if bad been blessed by a holy priest who was
since dead and who, he knew, went straight to heaven without having
to pass through purgatory."
"There is no doubt, senor, that blessed articles like medals, candles,
scapulars and holy water often protect their possessor from harm,
through the intervention of God; for He is pleased always at the
devotion which incites the faithful to wear these badges of His
service and to use what is consecrated by the church. If you, senor,
\\ere a powerful lord and should see one in trouble who wore your
livery, would YOU not protect him? You would be a craven not to
do so. How much quicker would the good God, the source of mercy
and justice, protect those who wear these evidences of their faith?"
"That is quite true, Father, if you endow the great Creator, or
(he first cause, with a personality like ours, and measure Him by our
standards. But take care that, you do not disclose a most vulnerable
point in your defenses, by such an assumption, for I would have only
to extend the simile to show that there is no eternal hell, a locution
which some of your saints claim to have explored and have described
minutely, even to the degrees of suffering, its dungeons, gates and
modes of torture."
"'Tis true. Si. Teresa saw it all by special permission of (Jod.
The sight nearly froze her blood! But how, senor, can the non-
existence of hell be shown from any assumption of God's personality?"
"By attributing to Him a personality and emotions like those
which control humanity, as you a did moment ago. You, my good
rather, would not bum the worst wretch in Bexar for ten minutes,
and if you saw one thus tortured, your tender heart would be touched
03^ his anguish and you would use all your power to arrest the
holocaust. How much less probable then it is, that the great Creator
of this magnificent universe who, you claim, is the source of mercy
;ind justice, would mar the beauty of his work by decreeing the estab-
lishment of thai; terrible hell, which your church proclaims, and
where she has centered all the terrors and horrors that "the wealth of
human language can describe. If your God is the source of mercy
Mid justice, He could not thus torture poor, frail humanity, even
138 GUY RAYMOND.
for a short time, much less would he gloat over their punishment
for an eternity."
"Ah! my son, I am sorry for you. It is plain you ha-o had iio
religious training. You are not even a good heretic. What a pity!
What a pity!"
"The good man rose as he uttered the last words and walked up
and down the apartment. Stopping before his companion he con-
tinued :
"You have a fine intellect; your head, your eye, your singular
proficiency in my mother-tongue, all indicate a rare genius, that
could have been 'utilized, oh! how well, in our glorious priesthood.
Could you feel the sublimity of our faith; could you realize the
grand destiny of our immortal being, if we but keep the commands
of God and His church; if you could look back, as I do, upon the
concatenation of eminent saints and martyrs, reaching back to Calvary,
sanctifying and strengthening an infallible church, you would beg for
holy orders and devote your talents to saving precious souls from that
very hell about which you are so skeptical."
To this prediction Guy mentally demurred, coinciden tally calling
up the recollection of the beautiful face he had seen at mass.
"No, my good Fathtr, I do not think such a retrospect would FO
influence me. I have read of some of those saints who used to wear
pebbles in their shoes as a self-inflicted punishment for some supposed
sin. While I admire your enthusiasm and your sincerity in a vacation
you so well fill, I fear the hard lives and penances of the saints shall
ever deter me from taking orders, lest I might, like them, be influ-
enced either to asceticism or to go limping around the world on
pebbles "
"You are perhaps right to turn our little tilt into pleasantly, for
there is little use to argue, unless we could agree upon premises
involving an admission of the incarnation."
"With that conceded your deductions would be irresistible."
It had grown quite dark at this point of the discussion and
It had grown quite dark at this point of the discussion an
simultaneously with Jose's appearance with a light a tall young man
in priestly attire, entered the apartment from the hall.
"Father Nicolas, this is Senor Raymond of whom I spoke to you/
said Father Ignacio.
Guy advanced to meet the newcomer and gave him a cordial shako
of the hand. The other winced under the pressure, for his hands
were as soft and flexible as those of a delicate woman. The elder
priest noticed the effect of his guest's hearty grasp and laughed good
naturedly.
(il'Y \\.\\ MOND. 139
"Father Nicolas is not rough like me, senor. I do not suppose
he ever did any hard work. My hand is hard, and fingers strong;
but as for my deputy, he is frail as a girl."
Guy said apologetically :
"I hope Father Nicolas will pardon me. I have a habit of giving
a grip when I shake hands, and do not realize how hard I squeeze-
"Do not think of it any more, senor. I am not very strong when
I am well; but I have been sick and everything seems io hurt me."
The young priest spoke this in not very excellent Spanish, and
Father Ignacio explained that his assistant was an Italian and had
not been learning the language but a few months.
"You were well enough io say mass this morning."
"Oh, yes, senor. I say mass every morning."
"Father Nicolas has been down to the lower missions," said Fa,ther
Ignacio. "I sent him on a hunt for health; but he returns as puny
as before. He is a good disciple of St. Francis, however, and never
shirks a duty."
"Father Ignacio is a flatterer, Senor Raymond."
.lose here brought 1 in a 1 ray of chocolate and a few edibles, and
at the host's suggestion ihe Irio were soon discussing the merits of a
drink whose aroma had already filled the apartment.
"Have you seen Don Juan today?" inquired Father Ignacio of
his subordinate.
"He was at dinner today with General Cos, and I met him there,"
re tlied Father Nicolas.
"Did he sav anything about his daughter?"
"Not that I remember."
"Sim left church this morning right after the Pater Noster and
I imagined she might have been unwell."
"I saw a lady leave at that time," said Guy, feigning indifference.
"She was sitting in front of you. You should know her, Senor
LV:\mond. She speaks your language, having been educated in Bal-
timore."
"I should like to know her very much. It has been long since I
have spoken with any of my people, and if she has been educated in
the United States and speaks my language, she will appear like a
countrywoman."
"Don Juan Navarro is very popular with your countrymen,
seiior. He has sympathized with the colonists in all their collisions
with the central government His house lias been a resort for them
and his elder daughter is tlio wife of Doctor A , an American of
education, physically {all and powerful and, like yourself, an adept
in speaking the Castillian toncrue. Through the influence of his
140 GUY BAYMOND.
American friends his other daughter, whom I had occasion to mention
a moment ago, was sent to an American school. She has but recently
returned to San Antonio and has evidently ma_de good use of her
time at school. Don Juan is very fond of his handsome daughter.
Pier friends find her considerably Americanized which, 'with some
Mexicans, is more than an objection something to be condemned."
"Race prejudices will crop out and I know of no occasion more
calculated to bring them to the front than when invading manners
and customs threaten to obliterate those which arc time-honored and
cherished by a people. We Americans are less sensitive on this score
than your more exclusive race. With us the rapid influx of foreign
elements and the change of the borne sphere by each succeeding gen-
eration makes us in a manner cosmopolitan. Then, in religion we
have represented, in more or less force, every Christian sect, while in
Mexico the one faith has stamped its i MI pros* upon the population."
"There! If Father Nicolas is not asleep/' said Father Ignacio,
as he saw the priest's head fall over on his chest and heard his deeper
breathing. "He is a weakling, Senor Raymond. His mass ancT vespers
have worn him out. When I was his age I had already established
two missions and never knew what it was t-o have, more than five
hours' sleep out of the twenty-four, year in and year out. It was a
mass every morning and confessions at any hour necessary. I never
missed my evening office or neglected my breviary, and when my
last mission was being built, I often helped to carry mortar and
tried my muscle in turning over large rocks, that the under sides
might be dressed. Although I look so well my imprudence has told
against me. I have rheumatism in this hip sometimes, and when it
has been aching I have often wished for my dear old mother to come
and rub me. Senor Raymond, she had a hand to rub ! It would
make a pain leave in no time Bless me! How Father Nicolas
snores !"
When Guy had gone to bed he found it- impossible to sleep.
Thoughts crowded on him thick and 'fast. His eyes were hot arid
dry, and the balls, no matter how he tried to give them the natural
motion which they perform just preceding sleep, refused to induct
him into the land of dreams. The sudden release from prison in
the morning, his going to mass with Linda, the strange ceremonies,
the earnest sermon, the defiant looks of the Mexican, rosaries, indul-
gences, medals, holy water, and much else connected with the day^
experience went crowding through his mind in strange c-nn fusion.
Through it all the face of the beautiful girl, whose eye had met his
own as she passed to leave the cathedral, was behind each subject,
composing the medley, peeping, as it were, over its shoulder.
<irv RAYMOND. | \ \
CHAPTER XXI.
"Will Senor Raymond go to see the monte pio this morning?"
"Do you think it will be necessary, Jose?"
"One should look sharply after his money these times, senor. The
country is restless and no one can tell how long before this good town
may be shook as by an earthquake."
"Perhaps you are right. But the monte pio is a solid man and
a friend of yours. He would not be tricky towards a guest of the
priest of San Fernando."
"Friendship is a poor stick to lean on. A full pocket will make
and hold friends but, MM cm ply one! Oh, senor! An empty one!"
and Jose shook his head.
"You are a confirmed misanthrope, Jose, I can plainly see; but
then it is probably best that we go to see my banker this morning."
"I will go with you, senor, for I have unfortunately lost the
paper showing the amount you have there, as well as the letter from
Manuel Ruiz, informing me of the deposit. I have looked for the
lost papers everywhere, but 'despair of ever seeing them again."
"That will not mailer. Your friend will doubtless do us justice,"
said Guy, somewhat amused at the annoyed manner of the other.
"There is not much left of all that money. Ninety dollars more
than half gone and you have not had the benefit of a quartilla,"
said Jose.
It was just after the breakfast hour on the morning after the
Feast of the Holy Rosary that this dialogue between Guy and the
major domo took place. Guy was out in the court to see Rolla eat
his break fasi and was fondling 1 him, when Jose appeared. Rolla had
hern kept a prisoner to prevent his straying off and getting into
troible and was quite impatient with the restraint after his long-
sojourn in the mountains of the San Saba. He whined a welcome
as his master appeared on this morning and ceased his meal at once.
"Poor old clog! You, at least, are unselfish. Your appetite gives
to joy at my coming. See, Jose! Here is a friend to count
on. None of your broken sticks here."
"But he is not a human, senor. He does not know the power and
influence of money. lie lacks reason, and missing that, knows nothing
of iv r arice. He does not moralize, senor, and therefore, is no hypo-
eriie. iff. bas nothing but instinct. Instinct causes him to know
his master and recnn-ni/r his dependence on him. This depen-
10-r
142 GUY RAYMOND.
dence involves a supply of food. Even, therefore,, with a dog, attach-
ment to the master comes from a selfish desire to remain with the
one who feeds him."
"But it is a known fact that between animals the strongest
attachment springs from mere association. Unlike you, I believe
in friendship a pure and lofty feeling that may exist between the
honorable and the good."
The monte pio was waiting on a customer when the two entered
his establishment some little time after their conversation. Nodding
familiarly to Jose and casting an inquiring glance at his companion,
he turned again to the party who was inspecting some goods displayed
on the counter. Guy, who had heard much of the place in which he
now found himself, used his eyes to advantage while satiating a curios-
ity that had possessed him for the last three days to view the contents
and arrangement of a Mexican pawn shop. The first place which
attracted his attention was the show-case, which was nicely arranged
with articles of jewelry, medals, crosses, rosaries, beadwork, knives
and various other trinkets. These were all absolutely for sale. Guy
thought of his lost medal. It was in this case that Jose had seen it,
or one very similar to the parting gift of Laoni. On shelves in rear
of the counter or table, were ticketed articles of clothing and other
effects pertaining to almost every department of Mexican necessities
or extravagance. There was plenty of time . to take in the whole 1
arrangement, examine the odds and ends of its stock, as well as to
speculate on the needs of those who had to pled go their property for
less than a moiety of its value. Finally the proprietor was at leisure
and, with his usual bland smile, accosted the major domo.
"Amigo mio, this is Senor Raymond." I
"Su Servidor de V. senor," said the monte pio, taking Guy ;
proffered hand.
After the salutations were over the proprietor remarked thai: he
presumed the senor wished to get the amount to his credit, and,
without waiting for a rerly, took from a drawer a lot of silver,
counting it carefully on the counter.
Guy, having verified the amount, found himself the possessor
of sixty-five dollars, it being the balance left from the sale of his
pony and saddle, together with the amount left by Ruiz. He pressed
Jose to take ten dollars, who received it under protest and the injunc-
tion that his master be not told of the matter.
"Have you heard of the death .of your accuser, Vasqnez?" asked
the monte pio.
"I had not," replied Guv.
sr Guv's
GUY RAYMOND. 143
"Nor I," said Jose.
"What caused his death?" asked Guy.
"Murdered. He was found in the river just below the old mill
with his throat cut from ear to ear."
"Did you learn if money was found on his body?"
"No, Jose. Not a cent."
"Then it was done for robbery," said Jose. "He had a large sum
of money the last time I saw him."
"Well, his death will relieve me of my parole, and perhaps now I
will be allowed to join my people."
"I am not so sure of that, senor. The Americans are marching
on this city and you would make too good an addition to their force/
"But Maverick and others were sent out and surely-
'That was last week. When war has once begun, the policy of
lay may be the opposite of that of yesterday."
I hope you may not be allowed to leave, senor. Remain with us.
If you join those headstrong men you will certainly be shot -vhen
you all will be taken prisoners. Santa Anna himself will soon be
here and he never spares a rebel against his authority. You speak
our language like ourselves. Be a Mexican; marry the pretty Linda
and make Bexar your home."
"You forget that Linda is promised to me," interrupted the
monte pio.
"But she will not have you, even with' your money," retorted Jose.
"What say you, Senor Raymond ?"
"No, Jose. I played Indian for nearly two years and I don't
desire to masquerade in another nationality. I have nothing to be
a si niiicd of in my race. They are impatient of restraint, liberty-loving
hy nature and detest personal government. Santa Anna is an adven-
turer, full of bombast, and if he fools with the Texan colonists they
will take some of his conceit out of him before the end of this
(jiiarrel. Sensible Mexicans detest him. The Navarros, the Seguins,
r>fiievid<s find Ruiz have, as good as pronounced against his govern-
ment."
l>e fore leaving the monte pio's Guy questioned him about the
medal, taking down the n;ime of the man who had purchased it.
From the description he was positive the medal sold was Laoni's gift
and mentally concluded that it was lost to him, probably forever.
bhey were crossing Hie pla/a Guy remembered his promise.
mad' the dav before, to visit, Linda, and suggested that Jose accom-
pany him to tiie cared. Tim latter, nothing lothe, consented, and
in a short, time <h<-v found themselves at the door where paced the
144 GUY EAYMOND.
sentinel. The inner door was open as no prisoner was within who
had the liberty of the court, and in consequence Bonito was not
annoyed by knocking at the street door to gain admittance. The
bench stood under the cell window as Guy had left it the afternoon
before, after he had recorded his adventures. The sight of the bench
recalled the fact of the writing and he felt at once for the little book.
It was nowhere in his pockets. He was wondering what had become
of it when he heard Bonito's voice in answer to Jose's rap on the
door under the lantern. The jailer was calling:
"Linda! Linda!"
Finally a faint answer was heard, and a moment later Linda
opened the door to the visitors, inviting them in. It was the first
time that either of the two men had entered there. It opened into
a hall, with doors on each side. Through the one to the left the girl
conducted them, when they discovered a comfortable apartment,
neatly kept, and boasting about the usual appointments of a Mexican
sitting room. There were unmistakable evidences of womanly care
in a degree somewhat above the social plane on which such a creature
as Bonito should, by the law of experience, live, move and have his
being. The two windows of this apartment looked into a small yard,
bounded by walls of adjoining houses which, green with vegetation,
disclosed here and there brilliant patches of flowers. The sight of
the latter calling forth an expression of surprise from her guests,
Linda explained that on this little garden she devoted those leisure
moments at home that could iiot be more pleasantly occupied.
"I often wondered, Linda, what pleasure you could find behind
the dreary wall that fronts the court, when your home duties came to
an end."
"My garden and fancy work always gave to me enough to do,
senor, when housework was finished. My father allows me to do
whatever I please after I have attended to his wants/'
"And they are many," remarked Jose.
"No; he is very fussy, but, after all, he is easy pleased. Fussing
is one of his few pleasures."
"He is at it now," said Jose. "I hear him shouting at some one."
"He has some business with the notary," said Linda, "They have
been going on that way for a half hour."
Presently the front door opened, when the subject of their talk
thrust in his head.
"For via de mi madre ! If there is not Senor Pajarro ! And the
major domo ! Come, Jose, I want a little help, and besides I want you
for a witness. Come at once; we will be through in a few minutes."
GUY KAYMOND. 145
Bonito disappeared and Jose, obedient to the summons, left the
room. The exit of Jose was quite agreeable to Guy, who had half
regretted the want of foresight in not coming alone as he desired,
for a certain reason, to see Linda without a witness.
The door had barely closed, when the girl said, mischieviously :
"I did not think that you would wait until this morning to some."
"I must confess, Linda, that I was anxious to be here last evening,
but did not know ho\v to excuse myself to Father Ignacio."
"Then you are still curious to know why I left the church?"
"No yes that is, I was a little surprised when I missed you."
"You must own that .you were curious about somebody's leaving.
Perhaps it was not my disappearance that interested Senor Eaymond,
it someone else's appearance as she passed him by."
"If what you say be true, Linda, would there be any harm in the
t?'
"No, senor; no harm/'
"You left the church
"I did."
'"You promised to tell me why."
"Because the other lady did."
"You are friends?"
"Si, senor; good friends."
'Ton wished to see her on some particular business."
"Senor Raymond guesses well."
"Tell me what you have to tell or let us talk about something
> "
"Now you are getting serious. I will find out your secret.'"
"F am not serious," insisted Guy, endeavoring to dispd a blue
that, had settled on his face.
'Now, listen and I will tell you all about it," said Linda, drawiiig
chair closer to her visitor.
"When I went to mass I took with me a beautiful rosary io
re blessed and which I intended to give to a friend. You saw me
it up ai 1 the blessing of the rosaries. Well, who should I see
eave the church, but the very person I wished to give it to. Yester-
day was her birthday and I did not wish the day to pass without
putting the present in her hands. You know, senor, if one has a
nrtlulay present to give it destroys half the pleasure to not give
>n the very day. I knew that I would have no time to see her
mass as T had to return home, having other plans for the
'rnoon. So what could T do but follow her from the church?"
Linda, paused and looked into the other's face.
146 GUY EAYMOND.
"And you gave her the beads ?"
"I gave her the beads."
"Well
"I've told you all."
"There is something behind, else you would not have said what
you did yesterday in front of San Fernando."
"I walked home with Beatrice."
"Beatrice ! Is that the name of the lady ?"
"Beatrice Navarro."
"I was struck with her beauty."
"She was impressed with your appearance."
"She saw me then?"
"As if you did not know it!"
"How so?"
"Did not your eyes meet?"
"She must have told you."
"And you fairly blushed under her look."
" 'Twas she whose color heightened. I'd swear it by all your
saints."
"In whom you don't believe."
"Then by my honor."
"Then you both turned red. "Pis plain to me, senor love at first
sight/
"I am not in love with Miss Navarro. She is very beautiful and
moves with exceeding grace. Possibly I am too easily impressed by
a beautiful woman, seen for the first time, and may have thrown my
thoughts into my looks whon I encountered Miss Navarre's glance.
But as for love why, Linda, love is deep rooted. It has a germ
which must be nursed to life by a glow that springs from acquaint-
ance and association, from sympathies that flow out of congenialities
of character and tastes. Eeal love can be no more called into exist-
ence in a moment than can an oak arrive at its giant size without
being first nursed to life by heat and moisture from its acoi
prison. No no Linda, I am not in love."
"If you deny it another time I will believe you are in love. Bi
senor, I am really sorry-
Linda heaved a little sigh, took up a corner of her apron an
began to twist it.
"What makes you sorry, Linda?"
"That you eaiinol love Beatrice."
"I said, 'I run not in love."
"Then there are hopes."
GUY RAYMOND. 147
"Hopes?"
"That you will love her on better acquaintance."
"Perhaps she will not care for my love."
"But she will."
"How can Linda know?"
"You have interested her, and I believe that acquaintance will
do the rest. Then, you would make such a handsome pair."
"I have interested her ?"
"I told her of your life -as much as I had it from your lips."
"Why Linda!"
"Did I do wrong?"
"No but
"But what?"
"Tell me all she said."
" ? Tis strange you are so interested, since you are not in love!"
"Interest is all interest begets interest."
"It then needs not to be warmed into life like love?"
"By no means."
"She said you were very handsome and but I should not tell
you all."
"Handsome! She was blinded by her interest."
"Only love is blind."
"True interest is oftener critical."
"Then you must be handsome; for as love grows slowly like the
on '<, she could not love at once and therefore was not blind through
lovp. I should hale to Imve my lover's love keep pace with such a
growth, for wo would he old and weak before our loves grew strong."
"It was but a comparison I made. A year may ripen interest
inro love. A few months in our maturer life may bring many
changes, whilo in a sapling oak no great increase might be apparent
;ifVer years of growth."
I "You will not renounce the germ, senor?"
"No, the germ must exist."
"But, once started, you admit the growth is very fast."
"That depends on the amount of association."
"Then go to see my friend tomorrow."
Jose and Bonito here made their appearance, preceded by a dried-
weazen-faced specimen of humanity, who had a scroll of paper
er his arm and a huge quill pen behind his ear.
"Sonor Raymondo has not forgotten the carcel, I see. It has been
e since you lofl. Can't you manage to get into some devil-
Mi;if \vc can grant you the privilege of the court?"
148 GUY RAYMOND.
"For eight reals a day ? Ah, Bonito ! You want to fleece me
again."
"It was your liberality, senor; you forced it on me. I claimed
but' seven. This is the notary, senor. Talk about fleecing! He
knows the art to perfection. He charged me twenty reals for poking
his nose into my room and fixing up some papers for me. I would
have gladly done half the work for twice the money. Think of the
drudgery I do, and what miserable pay !"
"I am pleased to know you, senor/ 7 said the little man, in response
to this queer introduction. "If it should please your worship to have
any business done in my line, I can he found in hours at my office,
Calle Soledad cerca la esquina de la plaza."
The notary obsequiously bowed himself out.
"Call on him, senor, if you want to get fleeced. Twenty reals for
a half hour's time ! Es un puro ladron," growled Bonito as he closed
the outer door with considerable emphasis.
As Guy and Jose were about to leave, the door leading to the
little garden opened and a female figure entered enveloped in a
dark rebosa. She hesitated in apparent surprise as she beheld the
two men, her hand still retaining its hold on the door fastening as if
doubtful whether to advance or retreat. The party in the room had
turned their attention to the new arrival simultaneously with her
entrance.
"Buenas dias, Josef a, T thought yon had given up coming. This
is nine o'clock with two hours added on," said Linda, advancing to
meet the lady.
"I am late, I know. 1 see you have company. A stranger? Jose,
of course, I know."
Jose made her a respectful salutation.
"Senor Raymond, I present to you my friend, Senorita Jos(
de la Torre, a neice of Father Ignacio."
"It gives me additional pleasure to meet I he lady, since YOU tell
me the relationship existing between her and the croorl father," said
Guy.
Josefa bowed stiffly, while her countenance assumed a proud
smile in recognition of the complimentary allusion to her uncle.
She was tall and slender, and moved with dignity across the room
to deposit her removed wrap upon a lounge. Her large, black,
spiritual PVPF took in (Iiiy Raymond nt a glance, while her quick
perception placed an estimate on his appearance prior to debating
in her mind ilio possible impression she was making. Josefa's oy
suited her long, narrow fact' and well defined features. She
GUY RAYMOND. 149
not ugly. Her face could be very attractive in certain moods of
mental activity, but its general expression was calculated to put one
on guard. Linda's first callers soon took their departure, leaving
her alone with the Senorita de la Torre.
CHAPTER XXII.
The even temperature of the first autumnal month scarcely marked
a change in the sunny days and cool, refreshing nights which came
and went since the buds of springtime first swelled to repletion,
then burst into vernal life and clothed the river valley in soft,
merging shades or handsome contrasts. Nature seemed loth to undo
the work of months and the lazy weather lingered to confirm, by its
enervating influence, the indolent population in the -extreme of leth-
argy. Even the equinox had failed to lend its wonted animation to the
elemental forces, and here was October still aping her summer sister.
June, as if old Boreas, concealed within his northern haunts, was
not merely waiting a signal to tear aside the veil and expose the
masquerade. But the ides of I he dissembling month were not to
come and go in balmy sunshine or pass their languid course, per-
fumed by incense from the lap of summer.
The norther. came in fitful gusts, raising clouds of lime dust and
sending the light debris of tho town in eccentric whirls through the
narrow streets and across the plazas. The oxen of the loaded wood
carts lowered their tethered heads and huddled from the wind. The
donkeys brayed bniraih their piles of hay, and turned their tails
towards the st<>nn of wind and dust. The teamsters and burro drivers
sworn many a Spanish oath, as tangled teams and carts, or tufts of buy,
flying on the wings of tho wind, called forth an anathema. Men hur-
ried filnng the streets to the protection of house or warmer clothing.
A few women, who issued from the door of San Fernando, drew
their reho<as closely around them, hesitated at the irate, then made
haste in different directions.
The wind storm soon reached a violence that indicated no ordinary
visitation from old Boreas. A great whirlwind swept across the mili-
atrv pla/a. carrying with it a column of dust that mounted many feet
above the church tower. In its course it struck a herd of cavalry
-. four hundred strong, returning from a graze, jnst as it entered
the plaza, terrifying the animals by its force and fury and blinding
dii-t, HUM] sent them, in mad career, through the square to the narrow
si reel ahend. Hastening along with enveloped head, to ward off the
150 GUY EAYMOND.
stifling dust, was a female figure whose position must soon be in the
wake of the stampeded animals, just started on their headlong course.
Unmindful of her danger, she must soon have perished beneath a hun-
dred unpitying hoofs, had not her better fate brought rescue in quick
decision and stout arms. She heard the tramp of hoofs, descried the
danger, and felt a tight embrace that bore her away, with scarce an in-
terval for thought ; and ere she could recognize the agency that snatch-
ed her from her feet, the ground beneath her was trembling under the
furious onset of the herd. It fell to the lot of (iuy Uaymond to be
the rescuer of the woman. He was returning from a walk to the
northern portion of the town, in quest of the source of the acequia
that ran past the church, when the storm commenced. He entered the
plaza from Mores street and saw a woman hastening along the eastern
side. As they neared the cathedral wall the whirlwind had' swept to
the southwest and frightened the animals. Taking in her danger at
a glance, he unhesitatingly risked his life to reach and rescue her.
As has been related, he succeeded. Having no time for thought, he
bore her to the corner of the wall and pushed her behind an abutment
constructed to protect its sharp angle. It was done in the nick of time
for the rush had passed before he could realize her safety, or his escape
form serious damage occasioned by a collision with one of the horses
that sent him reeling to the ground. Recovering himself, as speedily
as possible, his first thoughts were of her whom lie had rescued from
almost certain death, and the same instant he WHS by her side. To his
astonishment she had not fainted, nor was apparently much excited,
for she stood on tiptoe looking over the wall, with both hands on
the parapet.
"I trust the senora is not much unnerved by the narrowness of
her escape/' said Guy, brushing the dirt from his sleeve, but eyeing
the woman curiously.
He had not long to wait for her reply, but judge of his astonish-
ment when she quite calmly remarked in distinct tones, and purest
English, still looking over the wall :
"I saw your hat blow into the churchyard and was peeping over
to see where it had lodged."
Then turning to him, she continued :
"Doutbless sir, I am indebted to you for my life. I was so
blinded by the dust I could not perceive my danger. I suppose it
is in order now to learn the name of my deliverer."
"You certainly are acquainted with his national Hv, or you would
not have addressee! him in Fjiiglish. unless, indeed, my awkward use
of your mother-tongue announced it."
GUY RAYMOND. 151
"And may I ask how know you that I am not your countrywoman ;
for surely my English is as pure as yours."
"But I addressed you in Spanish."
"Understanding a language does not necessarily imply the speak-
ing of it. For aught you know the purity of your Spanish made
me hesitate to use the same language in reply. But do you know I
am fairly five/ ing in this cold wind? (Jot your hat, which I see
has lodged against the further wall, and see me home. While on
the way I can shower on you my thanks. The debate on our nation-
ality we can safely postpone to some more favorable time/'
"An excellent proposal," said Guy, laughing- and at the same time,
placing his hands on the wall, he leaped into the enclosure. Securing
his hat he went out the western gate, where his companion joined
him.
The first "bluster of the storm had passed with the disappearance
of the whirlwind. A partial lull had followed and then the steady
blow of the norther, stronger and weaker at intervals, drove the dust
clouds against the heavy walls and through the streets, whistling and
wailing a requiem to the memory of the verdure and sunshine and
the balmy, la/v days that had lingered in the train of summer. At
the gate Guy courteously offered his arm, which was accepted, and
requested the lady to act as guide in view of his ignorance of the
locality of her home.
During their conversation, already recorded, Guy had not been
a bl' 1 lo get a good look at the face, half concealed in the folds of a
roltosa, buj \\-lien the firs! English words fell from her lips he thought
of the girl who Father Tjjnaeio had said could speak his language.
an<! had been educated in Baltimore.
While his admiral ion was excited at her excellent nerves, be,
remembered the glances exchanged at mass, and when she asked bis
(scort to her home, the thought of Linda's rehearsal of some of his
adventures to her, who, beyond doubt, was now vis-a-vis to him,
complacently pointing him to his hat, after escaping not five minutes
before from the very jaws of death.
Proceeding on their way a short distance, she broke the silence:
"Your daring act has laid me under an obligation, and my father
under a much greater one, for he has an idea that I am a valuable
pieeo of property. As you forgot to tell me your- name, may I
beg lo know to whom we owe the debt?"
"I more than susped that rnv name is as familiar to you as yours
has become to me."
152 GUY RAYMOND.
"Grant that your suspicions have color or substance,, an exchange
of names will lend a finish to our rather sudden introduction."
"Guy Baymond, then,, at your service," he said, bending his head
low to catch her eye, then added :
"He is proud in having been able to rescue from injury so valuable
a piece of property as Beatrice Navarro."
"I see it all now. My English betrayed me. He who told you
of me gave you the secret of my education. Is it not so, Mr.
Baymond ?"
"You are quite right; but I should have found you out by this
time in spite of that rebosa."
"You were at high mass?"
"On Sunday last."
"And have seen Linda?"
"Yes."
"She is a simple, good girl. Probably I joked a little too freely
with her, when she came to give me my birthday present."
"Why so?"
"I then did not expect to ever know you."
"Well?" .
"But those terrible mustangs introduced us without ceremony.
What did Linda say?"
"That I should go to see you the next day."
"The little goose!"
"Why a goose?"
"You could have called without advice. What else?"
"Nothing more than a little innocent badgering, that it will be
better not to mention, even could I recall a portion 1 . I remember
she gave me good advice, and pleasant to follow."
"Here is our home. Come in, Mr. Baymond. My father will not
be home 'til late. When he hears of my escape he will hunt you up
and insist on adopting you at once. He dearly loves me because I am
so like my mother."
"You will excuse me for not going in. My torn sleeve and soiled
coat are but outward signs of an inward hurt. It is nothing serious,
but the smarting indicates that speedy attention will prevent an
extended soreness."
"How thoughtless of me! I have not inquired if you were hurt.
All my anxiety was about your hat, that went sailing- over into the
churchyard. You must call on us, Mr. Baymond. just as soon as
your wound will permit. My father and sister will be impatient
until they see you."
GUY KAYMOND. 153
"Then you will see me soon. Good-bye."
"Good-bye."
Beatrice left the door ajar and peeped through the opening to
follow with her eyes the retreating form of her new acquaintance.
"Poor fellow! I did not even ask him if he was hurt. That
detestable Josef a! She talked of nothing but 'Senor Raymond' this
afternoon. Fd have bet on her getting acquainted with him first.
She set her cap for him. She went to Linda's for no other purpose
than to lay siege to the handsome American. Oh ! Those dear old
mustangs. Whew! I just begin to feel the cold."
As she said this she closed the door and turning met her sister.
"Who were you talking to, Beatrice ?"
"Oh, Jane, such an adventure!"
"It is nothing for you to have adventures."
"But this particular one is not a common affair."
"Well, let us have it. But first come into the sitting room, where
I have built a fire. You are shivering now."
"The warmth of the house makes me realize how cold it is
outside," said Beatrice, following her sister to the fire.
"I was so excited I scarcely felt the wind. Oh, Jane! I have
just missed being killed."
"Killed?"
"Trampled to death."
"Explain."
"Those miserable cavalry horses. You know they passed here
the other day, going out to graze. Well, as I was nearing the
cathedral on my way home from Josef a's, this herd, for some cause,
became frightened and came sweeping across the plaza, right in my
direction, and in another moment I would have been killed, but for
the strong arms of my rescuer, who bore me from the street none
too soon."
"Did you learn the name of your rescuer?"
"Yes. You heard me joking with Linda about an American
who was at mass?"
"Was it he?"
"The same Senor Eaymond. But Jane how strong! I was
like a child in his grasp, and you know I am no feather."
"Had he heard of you before?"
"I believe he asked if my name was not Navarro or said he
knew it was."
"Did you see Josef a?"
154 GUY "RAYMOND.
"I stayed there for an hour and was about to leave when the
norther came. She is an artful piece, and so conceited."
After expressing this decided opinion of Josefa, Beatrice leaned
her head upon her palm and gazed into the fire reflectively. Her
sister sat opposite, engaged in sewing, by a small table on which
her work was spread. Now and then she would glance at Beatrice to
make some remark or to scrutinize her half averted face. There
was little resemblance between the Navarro sisters. Beatrice was
fair, though not a blonde. Hers was the Castillian complexion,
coupled with the dark hair and lustrous eyes indicating Moorish
blood that had crept in after Granada had succumbed to Spanish
arms and Christian antipathy had become more tolerant from abso-
lute conquest. As she sat looking into the blaze upon the hearth,
with the flush of health aii^iiiciU'cd by the excitement that gleamed
from her wondrous eyes, she made a lovely picture. Unlike her
sister, her features were small and regular, her rounded chin suffi-
ciently advanced to give character and poise to her face. When at
rest the latter wore a dreamy beauty that suggested thoughts of a
Madonna. Her height was above the medium, her figure full and
shapely, and her carriage was of that graceful, easy nature so common
to her countrywomen.
Her sister Jane had been married for about two years to Doctor
A , an American surgeon from Kentucky, who had emigrated to
Texas to seek his fortune. Her face was oval and handsome, her
complexion dark, but her hair and eyes were lighter than her sister' 1 !
She resembled her father; Beatrice her dead mother.
"Do you know, Jane, I nearly hate Josefa?" said Beatrice, lookin
up from the fire.
"You two are always falling out. What is the matter now?"
"Matter! It is her conceit which disgusts me. She thinks
every man who looks at her is in love with her."
"Has Senor Raymond been looking at Josef a?"
"Did I say he had? Jane you are stupid."
"Not so stupid as to be blinded by it."
CHAPTER XXTTT.
After Guy left Beatrice he hurried to his room with the intenl
to attend to his arm, which was smarting very unpleasantly. Evening
was near at hand and with the departing rays of the sun the tem-
perature was steadily lowering, making warm quarters pleasant to
:
GUY EAYMOND. 155
contemplate. His mind was full of his adventure, or rather over-
flowing with thoughts of his heroine. Her beauty had attracted him.
The rescue, the interchange of words, and the walk to her home had
woven a charming spell around him. He was so occupied by his
thoughts that he came in collision with Jose in the hall.
"Ah, senor! Is it you? Father Ignacio was fearful you had
gotten in another scrape, you had been missing so long/'
"Not a scrape this time, Jose; but really a dangerous, though
pleasant adventure/' said Guy, laughing.
"Walk in that room. There is a fire in there and the father is
waiting for you."
Guy found his host sitting by a bright fire, his face cheerful and
ruddy, while he vigorously used a poker to readjust the burning fagots
of mesquite. He turned as he heard the door open.
"Ah, you young runaway ! Here it is nearly .night, with a pros-
pective freeze, and you not to be found, high or low. We were
about coming to the conclusion that you had been blown away, or
had gone off in the whirl wind which swept the plaza. I never saw
such confusion among the caretas and burros."
"Well, my good leather, I came very near meeting with an
accident from the, stampede of the herd of cavalry horses. I was
knocked down and my arm considerably skinned by the fall."
"And where have you been ever since?"
"I walked home with a young lady who had been in some danger
from the same source."
"And you accompanied her to afford protection from a second
herd of horses?"
"Not exactly from horses, but from any danger, as she must
have been somewhat frightened, and I concluded company would
reassure her."
"And pray, who was the lady?"
"Miss Navarre."
"Senorita Navarro !"
I "The young lady who you said spoke English."
"I know I know Beatrice is a fine girl."
His last words were said more a^ide than they were addressed
to (luy, but the latter hearing them, mental I \ endorsed what the
father assented.
The priest poked the fire a while in a meditative manner, then
suddenly turning to the other, asked:
"Did you hear of the skirmish at the powder house?"
"Skirmish! Who wen; the skirmishers ? I had not heard it."
156 GUY RAYMOND.
"The guard of eight men posted at the powder house were relieved
at noon today, and at four o'clock the officer of the day visited the
post and discovered that a fight had occurred. Five of the soldiers
lay dead at the door and the others are supposed to be prisoners, as
they were not to be found."
"Is it positive who were the attacking party?"
"The American colonists. Who else?"
"I had no idea the ball would open so soon."
"Scouts report that a large force is concentrating on the river
below here, near the mission of Eispada."
"Then Stephen F. Austin must be in command, for Ruiz said
to Vasquez that Austin was encamped on the Cibolo," said Guy, in
a tone indicating that he was not addressing his companion.
"Ruiz, did you say ?" asked the priest.
"Manuel Ruiz. He who befriended me just before my arrest."
"You would be in less trouble, only for his friendship. You
might have been relieved from your parole, but for your connection
with Ruiz."
"How?"
"Ruiz is suspected of being the murderer of Vasquez."
"And I ?"
"And you are a possible accessory."
"And in confinement?"
"Else you might have been a principal."
"Perhaps my being an American militates against me. After this
collision at the powder house I shall be in bad odor here."
"No doubt, you will draw more attention in public, but remain
quiet and you are in no danger."
When Guy retired to his room he went to bed, but sleep was out
of the question. The news of the bloodshed between the revolutionists
and the Mexican guard opened up a new subject for thought. He pic-
tured the camp of his countrymen, so near the city, preparing for
attack, and dwelt upon his own position,, under parole, not to attempt
to escape from the town limits. He was in honor bound to observe
it while he accepted his limited liberty. He could only plan and exe-
cute an escape by surrender and reincarceration, depending on his
own ingenuity and the cupidity of his guard. He would consider the
matter deliberately befor acting. Meantime he could get better ac-
quainted with Beatrice and call occasionally at the carcel. It would
be out of the question to even -think of going back to confinement or
to attempt an escape without making Beatrice his friend. His friend?
Yes, his very dear friend. He even thought of Josef;i, \\hom he h:id
(ilJV RAYMOND.
seen but a few minutes in Linda's sitting-room. He would go to see
Josefa that strange, tall, graceful girl with the big black eyes that
fairly spoke to you, and who looked so decidedly Spanish. Josefa
was not at all en regie. She was a girl to make a lasting impression,
but Beatrice Beatrice was
Guy fell into a restless slumber.
CHAPTER XXIV.
^ Guy awoke the next morning lie did not feel that freshness
which one should experience after a good night's sleep with the tem-
perature at freezing point. His rest had been of that character which
is constantly broken through by mental activities that follow into the
land of dreams and, shorn of the guiding element of discriminating
reason, make practicable all sorts of absurdities and impossibilities.
He dreamed that he saw Beatrice drinking from the basin his hands
had chiseled into the rock. She espied him approaching and beckoned
him to come quickly. In her hand she held the cup from which she
had been drinking, and it shono like silver. He mended his pace,
but despite his efforts to reach her, the spring receded further and
further. He became impatient, but this provoked only her smile.
Finally she threw down the vessel, which rolled towards him, and
proved to be a human skull. In dismay he looked up for explanation
and saw in lieu of the gurgling fountain the mouth of the mine and
the dark, deep shaft before him. Amazed at the transition he turned
to retreat, when he was arrested by I be appearance of Laoni, who stood
wii:h folded arm proudly and sadly regarding him.
"Laoni ! Is it you !" escaped his lips.
She was silent.
'I thought it was " he continued, hesitatingly.
"Speak her name. El Bravo is ashamed of it. ?"
"Oh, Laoni!" he expostulated.
"The pretty face of the IVIexirnn has made him forget her who
waited in the mountains."
As Laoni said this she ira\e a signal, and several Indians sprang
from concealment, and seizing him, bore him to the opening of the
shaft and threw him into the dark abyss. Instead of being dashed
to pieces by his fall, he found himself transported to a beautiful
valley, lined with the while touts of an annv. On a nearer approach
this proved to be the camp of the Texans, who seemed to be greatly
excited over a prisoner, whom they were preparing to burn, lie
ll-r
158 GUY EAYMOND.
asked a soldier near him why they were going to resort to a method
of execution so barbarous, when he was informed that the fellow had
murdered Vasquez, a bearer of funds for the army. On this he looked
on thq prisoner more attentively and discovered that he was Manuel
Euiz. He was about to intercede for him when a female, whom he
recognized as Josefa de la Torre, ran frantically through the crowd
and, throwing he arms around the condemned, begged for his life.
This much of his dream Guy found himself able to unravel, as he lay
in bed after awaking, and mused for some minutes on the philosophy
of dreams, and the subtle influence they wielded over weak and
ignorant minds.
Notwithstanding, his dream impressed him so far as to put in
motion an examination of his conscience.
Did he love Beatrice? He remembered his argument with Linda
to disprove a sudden kindling of the tender passion. True, there
could be and doubtless were exceptions to this theory. Possibly when
love is all passion, more of a superficial than a deep-rooted sentiment,
it was the offspring of sudden emotion, a natural selection springing
from an undefinable magnetism. Dreams were the result of mental
states, impressions carried into the domain of sleep. Had his mind
ever entertained the idea of Laoni's displeasure should he love the
beautiful Mexican? He answered, no. But, he reflected, that the
Indian girl, so pure, so brave, so unselfish, so superior to thousands
of her sex who were included in a pretentious civilization, loved him
with a wealth of love that could never have been purchased, that was
given to him as nature bestows her offerings without recompense,
Must he give nothing in return for all this? His gratitude? She
had that. He had offered to fly with her from her own people and
work for her happiness. But Walumpta was not dead, and duty
forbade her acceptance of that which implied no adequate requital for
her affection. He could not marry a Lipan. He could not afford to
transmit his blood to his posterity weighted by the odium of such a
union. He consoled himself by this reflection of what he owed to the
future, and cringed a little under the momentary reflection that,
possibly, he might never meet again the girl who saved him from the
stake, and that fact would settle the matter.
Guy was not mean ; he was human. His last thought had scarcely
found birth before he discarded it, and resolved, if opportunity ever
offered, he would yet show his gratitude to 1h<- Indian maiden. Hav-
ing comfortably disposed of this mailer, his thoughts at once reverted
to Beatrice, and were occupied by her during the progress of his
toilet, which he arose to make.
GUY RAYMOND. 159
The brush with the revolutionists at the powder house had thrown
the garrison into excitement. The people of the town were in groups
discussing the incident on the next morning and watching the move-
ments of troops from one point to another. Officers were riding
back and forth from headquarters to barracks and to the advanced
posts looking to the east and south. A cordon of Mexican cavalry
had been extended as far as it was deemed prudent to anticipate any
contemplated surprise.
As Guy issued from the house on the morning in question, after
enjoying a late breakfast with his host and patron, who had been de-
layed at San Fernando., at the conclusion of his mass, he witnessed
the departure of two hundred cavalry from the pi a/a through Carcel
street to the lord. He halted to inspect thorn and could not restrain
an opinion of the weakness of such a troop before an equal force of (lie
men under Austin. A knot of Mexican men of the lowest order stood
near him, in dirty, tattered blankets, conversing in their nasal tones
about the display. To one of these he propounded the question :
"Where are these soldiers going??"
"Not far down the river, senor, to make prisoners of some rebels."
Guy, following on the heels of the troops, walked to Carcel stn-ri,
musing on the fellouV answer and menially concluding that these
rebels would probably refuse to he taken. He, 'ere long, arrived at
the carcel, and encountered Bonito in the court.
"Ah, pajarro mio ! The very one I was thinking about."
"''Is that true? Bonito, you must have me often in your thovghts.
You gave me the same greeting the last time 1 was here."
''That may be, senor. But truly, I had a bad dream of you hist
night and it bodes you no good."
"Dreams are but dreams, Bonito, and amount to nothing."
"With some, yes; but with me they always have a meaning."
"Tf.it bodes me ill luck, then out with it, amigo mio. Let me
know my fate at once," said Guy, smiling.
"The upshot of it is, that you are 1o he again a prisoner, and the
mischief of it is T cannot tell if I am to he your jailor. If 1 am not,
it will be the worse for Senor Raymomlo. Not all are like myself
who have the care of prisoners. You .remember, I once gave you
liberty and many privileges. Would you want the liberty of the court
again, senor? You remember you/ paid me a trifle, just what you
pleased, an, | it added a little to the beggarly pay I receive for my
pains."
"It will be well to await arrest before we talk of privileges and
terms. 1 have no faith in your interpretation of your nightmare."
160 GUY RAYMOND.
"It is well, 'but take Bonito's advice and lay aside a few pesos for
prison use. It will not hurt, senor, and you have drawn oil your
money/'
"You know too much, Bonito.'
"One has to keep posted; it pays."
"To cut the matter short, I will save enough to meet all future
wants, and if it is my luck to be again a prisoner I want no better
jailor than Bonito. Is Linda in the house ?''
"Si, senor, in the sitting-room. But stay; you have heard about
the affair at the powder house?"
"I did."
"Yours is a plucky race, senor."
"I am glad you think so."
Bonito having nodded permission, Guy directed his ^teps to the
sitting-room, where he had before interviewed Linda. He did not
find her alone. To greet his entrance the great, dark eyes of Josefa
were raised in conjunction with those of Linda. She rose- gracefully
from a half stoop over the latter's shoulder, which position she had
assumed in the inspection of some fancy work which the deft -lands
of the jailer's daughter were manipulating, and returned his greeting
with a smile that mutely alluded to the pleasure of their previous
meeting. Linda expressed her pleasure at seeing him in a manner in
keeping with their now well cemented friendship, and motioned him
to a seat.
"Linda, you are a capital housekeeper. Around you everything
looks cheerful. I cannot decide if the open windows and view of your
garden had a more pleasing effect than this bright fire and the com-
fortable temperature."
"Thanks, senor, for the compliment. Maybe it is Josefa's presence
that lends a charm to the room."
"Certainly that helps no little to make it pleasant here," :*aid
Guy, giving an inclination to his head, as he met the glance of Linda's
visitor.
"Have you seen no pleasanter room than this; none where every
object was invested with interest from association with the attractions
of its mistress?" asked Josefa
"I know of no such apartment," said Guy.
"We have heard of your adventure," said Linda, mischeviously.
"Adventure!"
"Did you not rescue a senorita ?"
"And accompany her home afterwards?" put in Josefa.
"Oh ! I begin to undertstand your drift," said Guy ; "news
travels fast in San Antonio."
GUY RAYMOND. 161
"But we heard it from a witness."
" "Tis all true, young ladies. I admit it. I had the good fortune
to lo of service in time of danger; saved the young lady; escorted
her home; did not enter her house and have not seen her since."
"Your whole experience in that direction has been exceedingly
romantic/ 1 said Josef a.
"How so?"
"Tin- first .impression made at mass; communication through a
thin! party; then an adventure in which her life is saved and a tete-
a-tete to the lady's home."
"I grant you are right, except in your choice of terms. The term
impression is vague and a tete-a-tete is out of the question. A
tete-a-tete here with Linda in a cozy apartment would be practicable
and agreeable; but with the Senorita Navarro or the Senorita de la
Torre, on a limited acquaintance and in the public street would be an
11 11 warranted presumption."
"Mexican gentlemen are not so punctilious."
"Senor Raymond believes that love is slow to kindle into a flame/'
ad (let I Linda.
"A creed of the Saxon race. We Latins have more fire."
"And less endurance you soon burn out."
"\Ye are more impulsive."
"And perhaps more generous, but not so practical as Americans.
Kven in religion the Latins require something grand and mysterious,
vith solemn rites and showy ceremonies. What success would a
Qua \er, or even a Protestant missionary have in Mexico? The people
won '(I never give up the pastores, beads, scapulars and holy water for
a plain unattractive religion."
''Remove the load of ignorance, senor, and your argument would
fall to the ground. Many educated Mexicans are infidels. My uncle
is the pricsi of San Fernando and I am not a Catholic in belief."
"You not a Catholic!" said Guy, surprised.
"I have been cured for a long time."
"Cured?"
"I said cured, because if such credulity as faith requires springs
not from ignorance or a diseased mind, it certainly arises from in-
fatuation."
"And your uncle, wilh his devotion to his church; what a thorn
in bis side your disaffeclion from the faith must be. While I honor
your independence of though 1, I have the highest respect for his sin-
cerity of belief/'
''My uncle is so bigoted."
ive it a softer name."
162 GUY EAYMOND.
"I cannot. He believes that my] father is in everlasting torment
because he was once a Mason."
"Let him believe it. You who> discredit the existence of so foul
a blot on this fair creation know that it is not true."
"Senor Raymond, I will not let you come here if you abuse my
religion. I am going to get Father Ignacio to give you a talking."
"Abuse it! I was defending those who truly believe."
"It was I, Linda. IM1 bear all the blame. My uncle and myself
have had many a hard fought battle. He once tried to exorcise me,
thinking I was possessed."
"How did he go about it? Is there a stereotyped incantation to
be used on such occasions?"
"Ha, ha!" laughed Josol'a; "I'll not tell you. Linda, I must bo
going. ' Mother is afraid for me to be out long since the stampede."
"Perhaps I had bettor soo you home for protection," said Guy.
"It is not on account of my tender years that her anxiety is
aroused. She. has boon ill, and her nerves are weak."
Linda showed them out through the garden. Many of her plants
were covered to ward off the cold, but the high walls usually afforded
sufficient protection for the more hardy.
The home of Josefa and her mother was not distant from the
carcel. Across tho plaza and a turn up North Flores street brought
them to the place.
Guy entered and was introduced to the mother. A glance at the
two would have demonstrated to a less keen observer that there was a
radical difference mentally as well as physically between mother and
daughter. The latter showed intellect and indomitable will that gave
a hard cast to her expression on occasions when she did not purposely
control it
"Have you heard anything lately of Manuel Euiz?" she asked, as
Guy was about to take leave.
"Not since he left the city," he replied.
"I presume he writes to the Senorita Navarro."
"To Beatrice? To Beatrice Navarro?"
"She is the only senorita here of that name. I suppose you know
she is engaged to Ruiz."
"Engaged to Ruiz !"
"Si senor ; to Manuel Ruiz."
"I was not aware of it."
"No, you scarcely know the senoritn, only met her once. lm\e never
boon in her house. It is not to ho supposed you know much al
her privnle affairs."
"True but Manuel did not yet I never met him but once.'
UU 1V11UU
lever
=
GUY FiAYMoxo. l.(3
"I hope it is not having n depressing effect on Senor IJa\ nmnrV
"On me! How could it?"
"True; Americans are practical, not impulsive; do not fall in love
except by slow degrees. Senorita Navarre's engagement cannot affect
you, yet you appeared annoyed at first."
"Not from what you said. In fact, my manner belied my feelings;
it must, for I was not annoyed at. all."
"You were possibly condemning Euiz for not telling you of his
love."
"No, I said I only met him once, but he befriended me and his
act made him seem like a freind of years. Was it Beat the Senorita
Navarro, who told^you of her engagement?"
"She will deny it. I heard it from Euiz and saw the ring before
it was given. But I am idling this to you who have no interest in
the mailer, seeing von are almost a stranger to the parties. I will
not detain you further, except to thank you for the pleasure of your
company to my home. Being both unbelievers, as the Christians call
us, I irust to see you often, senor."
Guy moved abstractedly down the street, not noticing {lie few
pedestrians he passed. One of these a tall, young Mexican re-
garded him with peculiar interest, and turned to look after him until
he had reached a distant corner.
"What has he been doing in this quarter," he muttered, as Guy
disappeared; "the murdering Gringo."
It was Sancho.
Guy reached the plaza and mechanically crossed towards San
Fernando. He was about to pass the front entrance of the church
without noticing Jose, who stood at the gate awaiting his approach.
lose's liaiJ brought, him to himself again.
"Senor Raymond, Father Tgnacio would like to see .you. I went
to the carcel, but Bonito was as cross as a bear and would give me
no more satisfaction, save that you had been there this morning."
"All right, Jose; where will" I find him?"
"In the sitting-room, senor."
Guy entered the house, but avoiding the room to which he had
been directed by Jose, repaired to his own apartment. It looked to
him gloomy enough without a fire in his present mood. He threw
himself upon the bed without any apparent purpose, and, bolstering
his head with the hard Mexican pillow, said just audibly:
"Beatrice engaged !"
164 GUY BAYM.OND.
CHAPTEE XXV.
We left Karnes watching the movements of the guard at the
powder house, while Nathan Eoacli went hack to pilot the rest of their
party to the chaparral surrounding it.
The angelus from San Fernando had not yet ceased when a squad
of soldiers marched into view from where the road lost itself in the
direction of the town.
This was the relief.
The guard saw their approach, formed lazily into line and took
their pieces from the stack. The relief passed before the line, bring-
ing down their pieces in answer to its present, halted and dressed
backward on the right. The sentry was then relieved, arms again
stacked and a general pow-wow ensued.
"Why in thunder don't the old guard go back?" muttered Karnes.
The reason was explained to him, Karnes thought, when he saw
the corporal and three others of the old guard resume an interrupted
game of cards.
"The gambling yaller-bellies! They'll neglect anything for a
game. If they crowd it on to me we'll just light into the layout
Seven of us ought to be equal to sixteen greasers. Nathe and me
could lick half of them"
The watcher began to grow impatient. He did not much like tie
augmented force of his enemy, although he would not admit a fear
of numbers, and he vented his displeasure on Nathan for not having
given some signal of his return.
"The blasted poke! He's crawling on all fours there and back,
reckon. If ever I wanted a thing done quick and well I've had to d<
it myself."
His muttering was interrupted by the appearance of a Mexican
at the window above, who looked intenely to the eastward, then called
to those below, pointing at the same time in that direction.
Karnes could not divine his words, but, knew he must have seen
something of interest, as instantly two others ascended to his side
and scanned the country from beneath their palms.
"What can Nathe be doing?"
Impatience getting the better of him, Karnes crawled away in
direction Nathan "Roach had taken. He had not proceeded mnn.v
yards when he perceived his men cautiously approaching, led hv the
tardy messenger. Aflcr whispered consultation, a plan was decided
upon, which involved an effort to cap! lire or destroy the whole de-
j
in
,
in
ido
nv
GUY I. \YAI<> NT). 165
tachment of the enemy. Three of ihe pnriy had pistols in addition
to their guns. The men were to deploy until a distance of several
feet would separate them, then move steadily to the verge of the
opening, or until a further advance would endanger a disclosure of
their positions. The men severally on either flank were to take delib-
erate aim at an enemy opposite. The center was ordered jo direct
their shots at men on neither extreme, but to choose an aim to the
left or right, according to position, the object being to make every
bullet count, in order to ensure to (he enemy the possible maximum
loss at the first volley.
The signal to fire was to be a quail call from Karnes. The pro-
gram having been arranged, the movement began. The commander
occupied the center and was first in position. The old guard was
in line, having just taken arms. The two non-commissioned officers
were talking to one side. The sentry was walking his post. The
other men, who had formed the relief, were inside the house.
Karnes saw at once there was no time to be lost. He anxiously
peered through the undergrowth to satisfy himself that his men were
in their places. He instantly covered the right-center man of the
squad, waited until the sentinel had come in line, just two or three
feet behind him, and gave the signal.
An almost simultaneous discharge of all the pieces followed.
Karnes, Nathan and Hamilton, who had pistols, immediately
rushed forward with yells, while the others followed, loading their
pieces. The terrified Mexicans became demoralized. The charge
had followed so quickly after the shots, whose fatal effect was now
plainly visible, that the luckless soldiers inside the building did not
sally for their arms, still stacked a few feet from them.
Three shots only received the onset of the Texans. The discharge
of the pistols at close quarters brought to terms those who had escaped
the first fire, while the occupants of the house shut and barricaded
the door.
The whole plan had so far succeeded. Six of those with arms, in-
cluding the sentinel, had fallen. Two corporals and two privates sur-
rendered. Karnes posted Ducio and Jones to pick off any of the Mex-
icans inside who might show themselves at the window above for the
purpose of acting on the offensive. He then examined those who had
been put hors du combat and found that five of them had been killed
outright and one mortally wounded. His next thought was how to
make prisoners of the balance.
"Fire the door," suggested Roach.
"Suggest to them the propriefv of surrender. I will draw up the
166 GUY RAYMOND.
articles of capitulation," said Hamilton, gaily.
"Fire will never do," said Mr. Trigg ; "it will signal to the balance
of the town/'
"Hamilton's idea is the best. Let us first ask them to surrender,''
said Karnes. "Mr. Smith, remove the prisoners further away to the
left/'
Karnes then approached the door and demanded in indifferent
Mexican that those within should surrender at discretion, adding
that on failure to comply, the virtue of fire would be tried as a
persuader.
After a parley that extended a quarter of an hour, terms were
agreed upon and the door was opened. Five men only made their
appearance. Karnes demanded the whereabouts of the remaining man.
They denied that any more had constituted their force.
"He must be in there," said Karnes, "for sixteen of the yaller
devils were here when we woke 'em up."
"If he is in here I will find him," said Hamilton, as he entered
the place.
Seeing no vestige of humanity below, he bounded up the steps.
Karnes saw that the prisoners were secured, and placing tho last
quota in charge of Smith, he ordered Ducio and Jones to go for the
horses, and to lose no time.
"Wouldn't it be safer to go to the horses ?" suggested Jones ; "when
I was in India
"D n India, sir! Do as you are ordered; start the hors
this way ; we will meet you."
"All right, Mr. Karnes; I only wanted to tell you of a rule
Lord Dalrymple's."
"My rule is the one for this squad to follow be off."
A noise on the steps here attracted the attention of -all. and Hai
ilton appeared, dragging a Mexican after him.
"Here is your sixteenth man, captain. He was up at the top coi
cealed like a hedgehog in his periodical retreat. He was ensconced
beneath a pile of hay that these sons of Montezuma doubtless used as
a bed when they should have been guarding the interests of old Santy."
"It was a job to get the devils in town after us. The feller wa>
to break for there no sooner'd we be out of sight," said "Roach, chuck-
ing the prisoner under the chin. "You're a sooner, you is."
"Mr. Roach is likely enough to be right," said M r. Trigg.
"Nathe, search the prisoners and take from them rvrrylliiiig in
their possession and put all in a (tile. I will examine the pockrfs of
these dead fellows. Hamilton, go up and keep a lookout towards
GUY RAYMOND. 167
town, for this is a bad place for a squad without pickets, as those
poor devils found out."
Karnes' orders were obeyed, while he bent over the dead. Nathan
dexterously relieved the living of the odds and ends that he could
detect about their persons and placed them, as directed, all together
on the ground. The commander added the result of his search and
found variety, if not value, had constituted the effects of the van-
quished. A half dozen sheath knives were the most acceptable. A
lot of monte cards, some silver change, buckskin strings, a clasp knife,
tobacco, a few shucks ready fashioned for cigarettes, a rosary and a
common memorandum bonk were about the sum of the articles.
Nathan held up the beads with a quaint expression upon his quainter
physiognomy.
"These here is what them heal hens prays on."
"You had better be making light of things that you are after
knowing something ahoul. Mister Roach ; for it's heathens they are
that don't know about a rosary and don't say the prayers that's said
on it."
"Then T want to be a, heathen."
"It's glad I am that you're suited."
"Mere's a book, Mr. Twig. It's got writin' in it. I can't read
printin', let alone wrilhf. IMcbby you can guess it out."
Mr. Trigg took the book and put. it into his pocket.
"Return the prisoners all their property except their knives," com-
manded Karnes.
"If there's any papers keep them also. I thought I saw a memo-
randum book."
"Mr. Twig's got, it, Karnes, but 1 lay he can't read it."
|"Trigg's my name, sir."
"Your pardon, friend ; I meant no 'fense."
'Tome, N"athe, get along with the prisoners. You and Smith
take an extra gun. I will call Hamilton and we three will bring the
rest of the arms. Take the direction to the horses, so as to meet Jones
and the other man."
Hamilton obeyed the summons down, reporting everything quiet
in and towards town. He called attention to the hazy appearance of
the northern horizon and predicted that it meant a blow.
The three men gathered up the captured arms and followed after
tic prisoners. Meeting the horses a little further on, they stopped
to arrange for the march to rejoin the command. The muskets were
distributed; the prisoners secured in pairs to a lariat, one end of
which was tied to Nathan's saddle horse. He and Ducio followed
168 GUY RAYMOND.
after Karnes; the others brought up the 1 rear. In this order they
commenced their march, skirting the hills whose range pointed to the
southwest and divided the valleys of the San Antonio and Salado.
"A right smart brush that was. Sixteen at a lick and none of
our'n hurt/' said Nathan to Ducio.
"I got my man, but some one missed/' said the latter.
"Ef anybody missed, it must a been you or Smith."
"There were six killed and seven guns fired. Mr. Karnes, who
do you think missed."
"I don't like to say, Half en ; I think I got two with my one shot."
"How could that be?"
"That shows the boy ain't up to snuff. I saw your play, Karnes ;
you know it's one of our tricks."
"If Mr. Karnes killed two, then two of our shots missed their
mark. What was the trick, Roach ?"
"Why Karnes jest waited tel the sent'nel lined his man, and then
he popped them both. Can't yer see? He nor me don't miss, we
don't."
The progress of the party was slow. The prisoners were sullen and
made no attempt to move with celerity. Hamilton was keeping up
the spirits of the rear by an occasional hit at Jones. The latter bore
it with scarcely a ruffle to his temper, now and then appealing to Mr.
Trigg to help him out.
"Jones, I would like to hear that rule of Lord Somebody's ov
in India that you attempted to quote to Mr. Karnes up at the powde
house."
"What would be the use of telling it to a rattle brain like yo
You would be sure to ridicule it."
"Rattle brain ! You don't know my prowess. I'm naturally ga
and, with my present environment, do not show the polish which
exists under this rough exterior, nor the intellect imprisoned behind
this massive brow, awaiting but the occasion to call it forth to benefit
my race and country."
"Bosh ! You got that out of some trashy book."
"One can't expect the truth from you. A recognition of m
worth would be an expression of truth ergo, as the logicans say
you could not do me justice."
"You rarely say a sensible thing."
"Would you have me e'er with clouded brow^grim-visaged, utte
ing only sage expressions and moral truths; or worse, telling impos-
sible adventures or palpable lies, that neither poini ;i moral nor ador
a tale? The mess would die of ennui if I did not come to the resc
:
GUY RAYMOND. 169
and offset your lugubrious falsifications by my flow of wit and fund
of folly. Why, Mr. Trigg wouldn't have smiled in any other mess,
and I have kept him healthy with laughing/'
"It doesn't hurt to have a bit of fun," said Mr. Trigg.
Karnes here cut short their talk by riding to the rear and direct-
ing Hamilton, Jones and Mr. Trigg to hand over their captured guns
to the others and accompany him in a detour he intended to make,
so as to pass near the mission of Concepcion. Nathan was put in
command of the others with instructions what point to make for,
and the parties separated.
The mission was in plain view and situated two miles below the
town. Karnes., like a true scout, wished to leam if any force was
there, and to pick up any information that would be likely to benefit
the army, from a point he knew must be in the line of march in the
advance soon to be made on the Mexican stronghold. The squad
went forward at a gallop, without any attempted concealment, head-
ing first obliquely towards the river, until not more than six hundred
yards intervened between the dark old structure and their position.
Heading boldly in its direction, they circled it in close rifle shot, but
not a foe could be seen. Two women appearing in the door of a jacal
in the rear of the mission, Karnes rode near and addressed them in
their language:
"Any soldiers been here today ?"
"Si senor, esta manana."
ow many?"
b no se, muchos."
A great many ! How many ?"
"Ciento, dos cientos, mas o menos."
e or two hundred, more or less," he repeated after her. "How
the picket from here ?''
"No se yo."
"Don't you go to town sometimes ?"
" fl i, senor."
far is ti
ell then, where do you pass the soldiers when you go and when
turn?"
"Oh ! si yo lo intiendo bien, en esta casita bianco a lado del
dno."
The woman had understood and definitely located the position of
the picket at a little white house near some trees by the side of the
road.
If lie had not been encumbered with the prisoners, Karnes would
have iixliik'-od his humor to call up his full force and surprise the
170 GUY RAYMOND.
^^H
;
guard at the little white house, but he had done enough to set
hive in an uproar. He had not received a sting and would rejoi
his command with a whole skin and plenty of evidence of h
success.
"Well, men, let us strike out for our friends."
"In good season, too," said Hamilton. "There comes the blow
predicted. The air has cooled in the last minute/ 1
"It's a norther, and it's time we had one," said Karnes.
"From the looks of yon sky we will have a stiff one this time/"
said Mr. Trigg.
"You have followed the sea, Mr. Trigg?" asked Karnes.
"I did, sir."
"Then there ought to be many a good yarn in you."
"He let us have one or two on the Cibolo," said Hamilton.
"If I had the Pagination of Mister Jones I could br after telling
many a one."
"And you, too, Mr. Trigg," said Jones.
"Et tu Trigge !" corrected Hamilton; "why don't you use your
Latin. I will wager you were more classical in India."
"Sure them elephants must a knocked it outi of him."
"Or that rule of Lord Dalrymple's proscribed its use," said Ham-
ilton.
"Sure, I heard nothing about the rule."
"No, for Mr. Karnes sealed him up. The gravity of the occasi
and our proximity to the enemy, encumbered as we were with the spoils
of victory, rendered necessary the postponement of its promulgatio
Now, Jones, is the opportune moment. Give us his lordship's ru
and I will take it down phonetically."
"You'd pronounce it a lie. Even Mr. Trigg is against me."
"Here's the norther, boys," said Karnes.
The flying hats of all except the last speakers went sailinginadvan
and a merry chase was given them by their owners. Even Mr. Trigg,
unusually good humored during the scout, gave vent to a hearty laugh
as lie spurred after his truant covering. The wind increased to great
violence, sending the dust flying in blinding clouds. It was the same
blow that stampeded the herd whose onset endangered the lives of
Beatrice Navarre and her rescuer.
Opposite the mission of San Jose, four miles further down the riv
Karnes caught up with Captain Bowie, whom Nathan Roach, with t
prisoners, had already joined. Bowie was very fond of Karnes an
was proud of his achievement. Roach had given a spirited account
of the affair, much to the entertainment of the listeners.
of
:;
m<
GUY RAYMOND. 171
The detachment had picked a camp and already several huge log
fires were burning brightly, giving protection to the men from the
blast, which had well nigli chilled them to the bone. The rest of the
command had communicated their arrival at the mission of Espada,
a little further down the stream, and Bowie was ordered to keep a
vigilant lookout to prevent a surprise.
From Karnes' report there was no immediate danger to be antici-
pated from an attack. The boldness of his conduct at the powder
house, which doubtless became known in the town during the after-
noon, must have confirmed the enemy in the belief that a large force
of Texans were at hand. This would keep them cautious for a while,
nn til a reconnoitre should disclose the absence of any enemy to be
feared. When our squad had refreshed themselves after their day's
work, they sat by a comfortable fire recounting the brush with the
Mexicans, and wondering when the next affair would come off.
"By the way, Mr. Trigg," said Hamilton, "have you that memo-
randum book in your pocket? I'd like to see what is written in it."
"That's whar you'll get left, Mister Hamilton. You kin use jaw-
breakers, but the Mexican lingo is what'll git you."
M r. Trigg drew from his pocket the book in question, and, passing
it to Hamilton, said:
"You can study it out. If T had a mind to, I couldn't, for my
glasses are put away in my roll."
It was early evening and as Hamilton turned it to the firelight
and bent over to examine the contents, he exclaimed:
"No Mexican this. It is the pure vernacular and the best of
English/ 1
"What's it about?'' asked several.
"Read it," said two or three voices.
Hamilton began reading, and when he finished, had imparted
to his auditors the complete memorandum made by Guy Kay-
mond of his adventures up 1<> ihe lime of his imprisonment in the
can-el. One of the Mexicans who met his deaih at the powder house
was the sentinel at the carcel, who secured the pocket book left by
(,'uy on tlie bench under flic window of his cell.
Mr. Trigg became interested at the commencement of Hamilton's
reading, and was much excited when the dog Eolla was mentioned.
When it came to Stella's and his own partly spelled name, he
could sea reel v control himself.
"(Jive me the book, sir. T had it all this time in my pocket and
none the wiser of what it could tell me, just for the looking at it.
I'll get my specs and read it over."
"Is it anyone you know ?" asked several.
"It's the boy I've been wanting. I feared he was dead. He migh
as well be under the ground or back with the Indians as to be in
power of the dirty greasers."
Mr. Trigg would brook no more questioning, but set to work to
unroll his blankets and get his glasses from a pouch where he carried
his little valuables. We will leave the big-hearted Irishman to pore
over the record of his boy's troubles while our squad, relieved from
guard duty, got tired of story telling and lapsed into slumber.
CHAPTER XXVI.
Eeveille at daybreak on the following morning roused the men
of Bowie's command, who were still sleeping. The norther had
greatly abated, but the air was crisp and raw, piercing the scanty
blankets and light clothing of the volunteers, most of whom had left
their homes hastily and unprepared for a winter campaign. The
last laggard had crawled from his nest and joined his squad around
the fire, when another call soiftided. Very few of the men knew much
about military calls, and several conjectures were indulged in by our
squad as to its meaning. Mr. Trigg, who had descended the bank of
a little stream running near to perform his morning ablutions, now
joined them with the remark :
"What's the assembly call for, Mister Hamilton ?"
"I presume it is called for us to assemble, sir," replied Hamilton.
Hamilton had been the only one who had not admitted his ignorance
of the purpose of the call.
"Why didn't you say what it was for when we were talking a
it just now ?" said Jones, addressing Hamilton.
"Do you expect me to be everlastingly lighting up your benight
mind?"
"I will bet he didn't know it was assembly call until Mr. Trigg
came up," said Ducio ; "did he, Roach ?"
"No tellin', when it comes to knowin' things what he don't know.
He must a learnt that whar he learnt them hifalutin words he's alw
poking at Jones."
"Where did you learn that call, Mr. Trigg? I thought you were
a sailor."
"Fact is, I'm after being a little of everything. I was at Orleans,
sir. The call you have heard is the same as they have in the army
over there; and that chap with the bugle was in Uncle Sam's band/'
he says. "There'll be a second call, if he means businesss, and ye all
will have to get into line. Do vo mind iliat fellow n'oing around a
telling of them ?"
GUY RAYMOND. 173
Here Karnes en mo up mid askr-d what the bugle had sounded for.
Hamilton informed him with an air imparting a thorough familiarity
with calls of all descriptions.
"Suppose we march up in file at the second call, if one is made.
The other greenies will imagine we are veterans. In India when
"Blast India ! It is dangerous ground for you, Jones. But his
suggestion is nearer wisdom than usual. Suppose we do it. Fll
command the squad/' said Hamilton.
The words were scarcely, out of his lips when the bugle sounded.
"Fall in squad! Tallest in front! At the tail end, Smith!
There ! S-t-e-a-d-y s-o."
The squad had fallen in promptly, but were rather merry at the
assumed authority of their pedantic commander.
"Stop your laughing! Left face! Right, dress! Back a little,
Mr. Roach. Steady ! Front ! Squad forward, guide right
March !"'
The men marched briskly along, keeping pretty fair step, except
Nathan Roach, whose long body made a curve, while his head bent
forward, continuing the arc of the ragged circle formed by his back.
"Straighten up. Roach. For God's sake stop bobbing up and
down, and shorten your everlasting step. You are disgracing the
squad. Just look at Mr. Trigg, old enough to be your grandfather,
but as straight as an arrow. 1 "
Hamilton marched them in front of headquarters, halted and
dressed the line, reported their presence and took his position on their
right.
The movement caused a hearty laugh and did more to assemble
the men than the notes of the bugle. The volunteers were a raw set,
as a body. They knew nothing of discipline, and the younger ones
had probably never heard a military command.
Captain Bowie finally obtained silence and thus addressed the
crowd :
"Fellow soldiers : I have called you together to inform 'you that
we have marching orders that will admit of no delay. The contem-
plated movement is one of importance, and every man in my command
must at once set about preparing cooked rations for twenty-four
hours; see that his arms and ammunition are in first-class order and
make himself ready in every respect to meet our enemy. Captain
Farinin's command will march with us, while the main army will
follow in supporting- distance. I noticed just now a germ of dis-
cipline, which I trust will be emulated by every squad in my com-
pany. I am aware that the men who displayed it were actuated by
12-r
174 Gkrx RAYMOND.
a spirit of fun, but it shows how voluntary may discipline become
among men prepared to surrender a little personal liberty and ease
for the sake of that civil liberty which will be the result of the
triumph of our cause. Men, obey the orders I have just given you/'
"Hurrah for Jim Bowie !" came from a score of throats.
The canfp was soon in the bustle of preparation. It was the
twenty-seventh of October. Karn.cs' discovery of the position of the
enemy within the walls of San Antonio, with only light pickets
thrown out within a mile or so from town, had been dispatched to
General Austin by courier the evening before. The messenger
found him at the mission of Espada, just dismissing the members
of the council to return to the seat of government. After a brief
consultation with his principal officers, the commander-in-chief de-
termined on a forward movement to terminate in the investment and
capture of the town and the Alamo. He therefore sent orders to
Carjtain Bowie and Fannin to put their forces in motion; to approach
San Antonio as near as prudence might determine, and await the ar-
rival of the army. In obedience to this order Captain Bowie assem-
bled his company as detailed in the beginning of this chapter.
"I'd like to know where the twenty-four hours' cooked rations
are coming from. These two quarts of meal wont more than do for
breakfast, and the dried beef in those saddle bags won't last two
meals," said Karnes.
"That comes from taking Roach in our mess. He is so long it
takes three rations to fill him," said Hamilton.
"But he stands starvation," put in Karnes, apologetically. "You
should have seen him up on the Trinity where we Were without grub
for three days, and the red devils after us/'
"It is a wonder that our friend from India don't see you on t
and go twenty days better."
"I am glad, Mr. Hamilton, that you see fit to doubt someb
else's veracity, as well as mine."
"Never had a doubt about yours, sir ; never once since the eleph
story."
"Give him a rest, Hamilton, for the Lawd's sake. Ef I was
Jones I'd whip you before night," said N"athan.
"Just save your fighting propensities for the greasers, as I t
you once before. Jones and myself understand each other."
"Hurrah! If there is not Perry!" cried Hamilton, dropping
gun, which he was cleaning, and starting to meet the niesen-vr
San Filipe, who had come in sight a few yards up the road.
Mr. Trigg had been making his own preparations in silence, paying
wan
:
GUY RAYMOND. 175
little attention to the light talk of his messmates, but when he heard
Hamilton's exclamation he could not refrain from following to meet
the hoy.
"We thought you had deserted us, Perry. You played us a pretty
tri'-k, sneaking off at night and never a good-bye."
" 'Twas orders, Mr. Hamilton ; I hadn't a minute's warning."
"You missed all the fun, Perry. Sixteen greasers succumbed to
our valor and
"Howdy, Mr. Trigg."
"Welcome hack, my boy. I hope it's good news ye have ?"
"None bad, sir. A letter which I have for you will tell all about
those you want in hear from. Where is General Austin?"
"It is a matter of five or six miles to his camp down the river.
The captain is in command, here and you had better report. Soon as
you've reported, fetch the letter."
"It is right here in my pocket. Here it is."
Mr. Trigg reached eagerly for the letter and walked aside to
read it.
"You had a fight, then," said Perry.
I faiui Ron related to him the particulars of the affair at the powder
house.
"So the old man was in it."
"He's true grit/' replied Hamilton; "and Jones, and Ducio, and
that fellow Smith : and you remember that specimen of the genus
homo who came to the camp the day before you left that long, lean,
lanksided, awkward cuss, whose hands reached below his knees when
he stood as near erect as his semi-circular anatomy could attain a
perpendicular, and whose thin, hungry-looking visage was emphasized
by his drooping chin and high cheek bones that fellow who rode
that; fine sorrel with the antedeluvian saddle and stirrups too short
for him by a foot, and at whom we all laughed so?"
"Ha! ha !" laughed Perry remember him! That's what I'll do
'til my dying day."
"Well, he was with us. But, my boy, you can risk you last cent
that he is a whole team. He can crawl on his belly like a snake and
hide in irrass a foot high."
"What's his name?"
"He pursues his awkward way through the world under an appel-
lation whose lack of euphony is in keeping with his tout-ensemble."
"Far GkxTs sake, Tipton 'Hamilton, do talk English."
"Forgive me, Perry, but Koach's appearance is, in itself, a source
ictive of merriment, irony and their sisters laughter and wit.
.
176 GUY EAYMOND.
But, boy, he is touchous. In my first sally at him he raised the
whoop and circled the air with his ungainly arms until I apologize
The fellow will fight,"
"But this is not reporting; where's the
"There's the captain at his breakfast."
Hamilton pointed to where four men were sitting on a log by
fire eating, and followed the youth in the direction indicated.
"Perry, we have got marching orders to go right into town. We
will be off in an hour and are sure to have a brush with them. If
you are to go to Austin's camp with your dispatches, you'll miss the
fun again. If I were you, I'd beg off and let some one else take them.
Ask Bowie; he'll do it."
"All right, come along and back me up ; you're good on the talk."
Perry approached and accosted Captain Bowie, telling him whence
he came and informing him of his possession of dispatches for army
headquarters.
"Well, sir, you know your duty. General Austin is at the mission
of Espada, six miles below here. What road did you travel to reach
us?"
"I followed the cavalry trail that left the main body and it brought
me right to you."
"Have you picked up any information that you can communicate
for our benefit. ?"
"No, sir ; I have not met a soul on the way."
"Take the dispatches at once to General Austin; but stay have
you had your breakfast? If not, join us here."
"Can't some one else take them to General Austin?" stamme
Perry; "I missed the powder house fight and now I am ordered
the rear."
"How do you know you would have been at the powder hou
Picked men were sent there."
"Mr. Karnes would have picked me," replied Perry, confidently.
Here Hamilton suggested that a fresh man and a fresh horse won
be better to entrust with important dispatches.
"That is true," said Bowie. "Young man you can march with us
Mr. Trigg had finished reading Stella's letter and sat in me
tative mood by the mass fire thinking over its contents.
"Pity it is she's been so long with that giddy aunt, without any
religion at all. But the dear child writes sensible like, and it's
straightened out she'll be when the nuns get her, of all that infidel talk
about duty for a religion. What's duty and such like without the Blessed
Mother and Saints and the Holy Church? The next letter she gets
GUY EAYMOND. 177
from me she'll be after hearing from her brother being in San Antonio.
But sure it's out of the frying pan inio the fire he is from the In-
dia us to the greasers. 'The New Orleans volunteers/ them's the
fellows that's joined the general since we marched. It's a bad ti un-
to be knocking around the gulf in a schooner; but it's good luck I
hope she'll have
"Mr. Trigg, I am not to go any further, but will march with you.
Here's some socks Stella sent you."
"She spoke of them in. the letter the dear child did she look
happy, Perry?" _
"She was not gay, but appeared contented."
"Were the cheeks rosy like when I left her?"
ust like peaches, sir."
n good health, then. Perry, her brother is in San Antonio."
ow did you hear?"
'We got this memorandum book off a dead Mexican up yonder.
It's Guy's o\vu writiif and tells about his being in the prison and get-
ting away from the Indians."
"That was strange," said Perry, looking over the book.
"It's what I call providential," said Mr. Trigg.
hat's noi the word," said 1 lamillnn, who had just joined them,
t was rather one of (hose fortuitous circumstances that permeate
human experience and pander to our inclination to attribute to the
su ,'crnat urul all that appears to us unaccountable. What can be easier
to explain than the incident you attribute to an act of Providence?
Your young friend is a prisoner in a military stronghold and con-
sequently his guard is a soldier. He wrote in this book. The sent inel
u'ot it into Ins possession bv some means. In the course of his
duties the powder house became his temporary post. We captured
him there, and the book is in your hands. See it?"
"You may have it that way, Mister Hamilton, but remember that
find directs every thing, even the likes of the falling of a leaf."
"Mr. Trigg, you are a born pantheist."
"Ifs a Koinaii Catholic I am, sir. Did you mane T was a Pro-
testant?'
no means: I said pantheist."
d what is that?"
ne who belie\e> that the whole creation is Clod."
verything in the world ?"
\crytliing in the universe."
e's a horn fool as believes the likes of that."
biiirle sounded t he assembly.
178 GUY RAYMOND.
The men had made hasty preparations for the march, after having
partaken of their breakfasts, and at the summons from the bugle,
they commenced to mount their horses and assemble in the road.
The company of Captain Fannin, which had been camped near, came
in sight, with their gallant ocmmander riding at the head of
the column. They numbered fifty men. As they passed, the men
of Bowie's company cheered them with a will. The latter, now
formed, answered to roll call, then followed in Fannin's rear with
forty men in ranks.
These ninety Texans marched away with the mission of Concep-
cion as their objective point, where they were to await the commander
in chief while reconnoitering the position of the enemy.
This mission was not unlike the others founded by the Francis-
cans early in the eighteenth century. The difference consisted in
their dimensions and the amount of ornamentation displayed in the
architectural finish bestowed on the front elevations and side openings.
Concepcion ranked about third in area and importance. It was situ-
ated four hundred yards from the river in a bend made by the latter
to the west. In front the northern view was open. To the east
a prairie stretched a thousand yards to a chain of hills. Riverward
was timber, just beyond a bluff that bordered the valley proper, and
which made an angle conforming with its flow. This bluff formed
the western and southern sides of the plateau that stretched in-
definitely to the north and mingled on the east with the undulations
of the prairie. A few Mexican jacals occupied positions near and
in rear of the church. A single tower surmounted the northwest
corner of the latter. The whole structure was blackened and defaced
by the ravages of time, and presented all the aspects of neglect that
inevitably follow a continued absence of occupation and care.
A travelled road approached from the direction of the town and
passed along its eastern side and on down the river. This road
branched to the right about one hundred paces before reaching
Concepcion and found its way to a ford, where it crossed and led
to San Jose, four miles distant.
A position on the parapet of the church afforded a good view of
the plateau, whose level was unbroken for nearly a mile, save by
clumps of bushes dotting it here and there. Then a series of mottes,
beginning at a small white house to the right of the road, disclosed
themselves in tiers, until the low walls of the houses of the city,
fin-ling the more pretentious masonry of San Fernando, filled the
background. To the left, the timbered river; to the right, the rolling
country, culminating in the hills, whoro the garita or powder house
GUY RAYMOND. 179
showed itself above the now paling foliage of the mesquite, completed
the picture.
It was in the forenoon of the twenty-seventh. The mission had
its usually deserted appearance, looking dark and grim, in contrast
with the flood of sunshine that poured from a cloudless sky.
The norther had spent its fury, but the sharp air still contended
with the warmth of heaven, and yielded only where cover from the
polar current gave vantage to the descending rays. The day had a
la/y look with all its brightness. The recent fierceness of the wind,
cutting and cold, had driven all animated nature to retreats, whence
ii emerged only to bask in sunshine where protecting leaf or limb,
hillside or wall, gave inviting shelter. Behind the low wall of the mis-
sion wing two donkeys stood with lowered heads, motionless as statu-
ary, their long ears limp and hori/ontal. They looked the picture of
repose. Two Mexicans, with blankets thrown close around their
shoulders, leaned lazily against the same projection near its eastern
corner and were conversing, while apparently watching a woman
near, who, in a sitting posture, was busily working her arms as if she
was scrubbing. A nearer inspection, by a connoisseur, however, would
have at once disclosed her true occupation to have been the prepara-
tion of paste for tortillas. A slab of stone on the ground held the
softened corn, while a half rounded rock, firmly held in both hands,
was used to reduce the grain to the required fineness. The doorway
of an adobe hut, from which hung a fresada with looped corner,
disclosed a bed and articles of its simple furniture. It was the
domicil of the tortilla maker, who had moved to the shelter of the
wa 1 for protection. She frequently ceased the movement of her arms
to scrape back the truant grains to the middle of the slab, and while
this engaged she rattled away in rapid talk to the men, who would
reply to her loquacity in nasal tones, while a smile would occasionally
relieve the apathetic expression of the Aztec features.
"It is true, or my name is not Locaria Landina."
This was said by the woman in response to some doubt about a
previous assertion she had made.
"How many did you say?"
Kve. Five mounted Americans."
- what time in the day?"
"About three hours afler dinner."
"What shall we do, Juan? Here we are between two fires. If
we join these fellows there is no Idling what desperate fights we will
he |<-d info. If we do not join ibein (Jeneral Cos will force us into
the army and we will have io meei jhese devils of American^"
180 GUY RAYMOND.
"It is true. Ramon. The best thing is to steal horses from the
herd and get away from these parts. I see no other way."
"A good idea of yours, but the herd will be kept close., now that
the Americans are around."
"The greatest trouble will be
"There comes a man now," said Locaria. "If I remember right,
he looks like the officer who forced my brother into his company."
The two men made a movement as if to retreat, but before they
could move more than a pace or two, a horseman came up at a canter
and reined his animal to a halt opposite the woman.
"Buenas Dias ! amigos," he said, saluting the three.
They all -returned the greeting.
"Where is your brother Locaria ?"
"My brother ! Do you know him ?"
"Well, that is the reason I could call your name."
"True, you did call me Locaria. I was so frightened I did not
notice it."
"Still you have not answered my question."
"Oh! About my brother. They took him for a soldier. When
I first saw you I thought you were the one who took him away."
"Is that the reason you were frightened ?"
"Si, senor. And yesterday there were five Americans here asking
about the soldiers in. the town. But they were good Americans and
very polite."
"F-i-v-e A-m-e-r-i-c-a-n-s ! Can you tell me where they went?'
"Abajo, senor. Down that road as far as T could see them."
"The mission of Espada, doubtless," mused the new comer. "J
as I was informed."
He thought awhile, then addressed the men who had remained
listen :
"Well, my good fellows, where are you from? Perhaps dodging
the military. Am I not right?"
"Si senor," they replied.
"I don't blame you for not wanting to serve with a lot of convi
brought here to destroy the liberties of the people. Why don't you
help drive them out?"
The men looked at each other, but were silent. The horse
regarded them with contemptuous pity, then turned his looks down
road.
"For via de mi madre!" he exclaimed. "If that cloud of dust
does not mean something I am mistaken. Here, Locaria, hold
rein until I see what it means."
T vy WL
man
""-
ust
GUY RAYMOND. 181
So saying, he dismounted and darted into! the mission. A mo-
ment later he was looking .from the parapet in the direction of the
dust rising in the distance. He soon descended and relieved the
woman if her charge.
"What did you see, senor ?"
"The army of liberty. The Americans will soon be here, Locaria.
But where are those two fellows ?"
"Gone. They made off as soon as you entered the mission/'
"But, senor, will the Americans harm us?"
"Fear not, Locaria, they are our friends."
"Friends ! They come to fight Mexicans."
"But Mexicans stole your brother from you."
they would not?"
They will get him back for you."
>ue buena gente."
CHAPTER XXVII.
[anuel Ruiz did not remain long chatting with Locaria before
his solution of the cans* 1 of tin- <lis1:in< cloud of dust proved to be
thr 1 true one. The ninetv Texans, under Fannin and Bowie, were
feoon drawn up in line in rear of the mission, with Ruiz in conversation
with the leaders. The gallant Mexican was acquainted with many
of the Texans. and among them was Captain Bowie. The latter was
apparently well pleased to meet him and plied him with questions
in regard to the strength of the garrison in the town, and upon other
matters pertinent to its coming investment. Ruiz was able to inform
him on many points, but the result was anything but satisfactory to
the cherished hopes of carrying the place by assault. The whole
army, on the ground after the arrival of the main body would not
number more than eight hundred men. It had little, if any, trans-
portation, no commissariat, insufficient ammunition, was armed with
every conceivable style and caliber of guns, and no tents, even for
the field hospital. It would be hazardous to attempt an assault with
such appointments, while a seige, without cannon, save two light
twelve pounders, and no military chest whence to draw the funds
needed, even to supply the simple \vanis and absolute necessities of
an inactive camp, whose monotony and leisure so illy accorded with
the adventurous spirit of the volunteers, was out of the question.
"Ruiz, do you think we can capture the place with eight hundred
boys like these?" asked Bowie.
"That number of brave men can do wonders."
182 GUY RAYMOND.
i
"My opinion is that an assault is the thing. A seige should not
be thought of for a moment, with the poor fix our men are in. Why
half of them would not stay."
"Captain Bowie, let us ride around here and select a camp," sug-
gested Fannin.
"Come with us, Buiz."
The ground chosen was in the edge of the wood where the friendly
bluff would afford ample protection against the attack of a superior
force. Here the two commanders decided to await the arrival of
General Austin. As there were no signs of activity among the Mex-
icans, a chain of sentinels extending from the mission and along the
open space to the wood was supposed to constitute the requisite pre-
caution to guard against surprise. A party of observation sent out
towards the town were, ere long, seen to be slowly retiring before the
enemy's pickets, exchanging shots as they retreated. A dozen men
were dispatched to the relief of the retiring Texans, who, thus re-
inforced, drove back their assailants to the little white house where
they were first discovered. After an hour's skirmishing, in which
the Texans held at bay the first force largely augmented by additional
numbers sent to their support from the garrison, the firing ceased as
if by mutual consent, and each party retired to their respective lines.
The men returned to camp elated at their success in having replus
a greatly superior force.
The close proximity of the enemy in force rendered necessary tl
issuance of orders confining the men to the bounds of the camp,
unless specially detailed for duties whose performance required them
to pass beyond its limits. A squad was sent across the river to
slaughter beef for the army and to scout the country between the foi
and the town, to discover any movement that the enemy might attem]
to make on that flank.
In the camp itself the men busied themselves in accumulate
fuel for the night, which promised to be cold, despite the moderating
temperature; in caring for their animals and in making ready for a]
emergency that might call for the use of arms and the display
desperate valor. It was a body of individual heroes. Each felt that
success depended on his own action and example. By noon the camp
was well established. The strict orders of the commanders had been
obeyed, and it would have required a near approach of the enemy's
scouts to have determined that a body of near a hundred men lax-
close to the mission, hidden as they \\civ in the depression
screened by the leafy panoply of ilie wood. Tin 1 scnirirs did not
pose themselves unnecessarily to view, while their range of visic
i
GUY RAYMOND. 183
swept the plateau for a thousand yards. A peep over the bluff would
have disclosed the camp made up of mess fires, around which the
individuals were ranged in all the abandon of posture and careless
ease or exceptional occupation, called forth by deferred performance
of duty or by anticipated necessity. The absence of tents detracted
from its military appearance. A half score of guns resting there
against a tree; here a half dozen powder horns depending from a
limb; water gourds, canteens, now and then a coffee pot close by a
fire; saddles strewn about on the ground, or used to pillow the heads
of recumbent forms stretched lazily upon blankets, made up a scene
that would have rewarded the observer, who, if a student of human
nature, would have had ample matter for mental dissection and with
which to compare ideals of character. The excitement incident to the
morning skirmish and the opening campaign formed a Qopious fund
whence to draw topics for conversation.
Our mess had early concluded all necessary duties and the late
afternoon found its members in excellent shape for passing the ap-
proaching night. Karnes had been detailed for guard duty, but in
the absence of strict military regulation, tlie guard possessed no more
autonomy than the list containing the names of the detail, and the
members were summoned to their posts whenever the relief was ready
to make the rounds. Hucio and Smith had gone with the party after
beef and had not yet returned. Around the fire Tip Hamilton was the
most conspicuous figure. He had not been in Texas long enough
to spoil the handsome blue of his coat, that formed such a contrast
with his light drab pants. The lustre of the black satin vest
with its double row of buttons bespoke him a fresh importation from
the States, unassisted by his boots, whose red tops reached far down
towards the instep. He reclined upon his blanket with the upper
part of his body resting on his elbow, a cheerful expression indicating
that he had, as usual, accommodated himself to surounding circum-
stances. Mr. Trigg was seated upon a broad stump, with elbows on
lii's knees, drawing consolation from the bowl of a short-stemmed
pipe, and puffing whatever of care he felt into the realms of ether
nlon.ir with the whiffs of smoke that escaped his lips. Jones sat near
him On the trunk of a tree, which had been felled from the stump
mid re-ted his back against a limb that forked conveniently near.
He had his hat lowered, well shading his face, but not so depressed
that lie eonld not see his friend Hamilton opposite. Karnes was
-landing to the right of J.ones, examining his gun, having just come
on" liis post near the mission. Nalhan Eoach was visible in the dis-
tance approaching the group, laden with several gourds and canteens
that swung by their straps and strings from his shoulders.
184 GUY RAYMOND.
"Karnes, where did that Mexican spring from who is up there at
headquarters?" asked Jones.
"He has been only three or four days out of town. Capt. Bowie
knows him and has got considerable information from him about the
strength of the garrison and the kind of troops we have got to fight."
"He is recreant to his race if his errand is not to mislead we noble
Texans," said Hamilton, grandiloquently.
"Hamilton's on the spout agin', is he?" said Nathan, coming up
and commencing to unload. "Here's water for- a million. Ef any
more's wanted, why Mister Jones or Mr. Hamilton will fetch it, ef
I ain't mistaken."
"Now, Mr. Roach, you have spoiled it all. We were only just
now discussing your many virtues and lauding the lamb-like resig-
nation you displayed when it fell to your lot to fill these vessels with
water. It was not I who proposed to draw lots to see upon whom
should fall this duty. No, Mr. Roach, not I ; but Jones Mr. Jones
of India, who stated that such a practice obtained in that dependency
of Great Britain among the veterans of the East India company.
Jones is a great trickster, Mr. Roach. All characters like him, so
impregnated with the basic element of romance, must necessarily 1x3
tricky, and I should not be surprised if there were much color in the
charge that he tricked you into drawing the short straw."
"Ef I thought he put up a job on me, I'd smash Mr. Jones of
India, as you call him," said Nathan, regarding Jones doubtingly.
"It is wrong very wrong to put off everything on a good natured
comrade, and all through trickery," said Hamilton, -with assu
gravity. "I could not stand it."
"I don't mind going for water, but I want the drawin' do
fair."
"It was fair, Roach; don't mind him," interrupted Jones.
"It is the second time he has drawn the short straw and we hav
drawn only twice. Jones, you know you said it was a trick of Lord
Dalrymple's command. Own up now and play no more tricks on
Roach. Don't you know, Nathan, that he was talking of a rule
Lord Dalrymple's up at the powder house.?"
"I do, by jingo," said Nathan, springing for Jones. "That prov
it, dad blast your picture; for you know you said somethin' 'bout
Rimple's rule, and you was hatchin' it up (lien to make me tote water."
Jones rolled off the log on the side opposite Nathan as the latter
darted at him, his laughter at Hamilton's introduction of an irrele-
vant circumstance to prove his charge of trickery, turning into veri
able apprehension when he heheld the menacing action of the victi
t
GUY RAYMOND. 185
Tlio others had enjoyed the joke being played on the backwoodsman,
hut, when the latter sprang to avenge the supposed indignity prac-
ticed upon him, they took in the necessity of interposing to protect
the East Indian from serious bodily harm. Nathan had bounded
over the log and planted both feet upon the prostrate Jones, who pro-
tcsied loudly, but in vain., that Lord Dalrymple's rule had nothing
in connection with the drawing of lots. Karnes seized his old friend
by one arm and Hamilton, taking hold of the other, they pulled the
irate Eoach back to the fire.
"Nathe, you should not fight for such little provocation," said
Karnes.
"Didn't he get up Rimple's rule on me?"
"Perhaps I was mistaken," said Hamilton. "Sorry if I was
wrong. But Jones did not explain, and I was misled perhaps by
interest in Mr. Roach to interpret the rule to allude to drawing lots."
"I don't intend to be imposed on."
"I'll acknowledge I was wrong, Roach. Let's all make friends."
"If you was wrong, Hamilton, all right, I'll let it drop," said
Nathan, cooling off.
"Yes, kiss and make up, as the children say."
"I don't like these practical jokes a bit, and I will just serve notice
on Tip Hamilton that I won't stand it. My side is bruised terribly
by ihat fellow's feet," and Jones seated himself with his hand on his
ribs.
"I heard ye talking about saving your fighting qualities for the
Mexicans. Now be after following your own advice and I will
warrant ye ye'll have enough fighting afore forty-eight hours," said
Mr. Trigg, who had remained on his stump smoking, but secretly
enioying the fun.
At this juncture the corporal, with the rlief, appeared, descending
the bluff, with an old Mexican in charge, who bent under the weight
of a sack, whose contents were not discernable. The squad marched
up and halting, the corporal pulled forward the old man with the
sack, who stood smiling and grimacing, with his doffed hat held
before him and his head obsequiously bent, as he timidly returned
the glances of the new batch of Tejanos.
"Who have you got now, Waters?" asked Karnes, towards whom
the corporal seemed to be pulling the prisoner.
"That's what I want to know, Karnes. This old Greaser was
raptured on post number three, and we can't understands dinged
Ihirig he says. I did think I could talk a little of their lingo, but
this old fellow gets away with me."
186 GUY RAYMOND.
"The old Mexican cut his eye at Karnes, as if to read his fate
in that individual's expression, his own countenance further disfigured
by a grin of abject submission. As Karnes addressed him in his own
tongue, the grin subsided until his ugly physiognomy betrayed naught
else save superlative satisfaction.
"De donde vienes, y que haces aqui en este campo?"
"Tengo una carta por el commandante, senor; y estos piloncillas
con una botilla de mescal, que manda el padre/' replied the prisoner.
"He says," interrupted Karnes,, "that he has a letter for the com-
mander and some piloncillas and a bottle of mescal, sent by the
priest."
"An envoy extraordinary with presents," exclaimed Hamilton.
"The bottle of mescal is good. Produce the bottle, old Montezuma."
The Mexican eyed Hamilton rather distrustfully as this was said
in a dramtic manner with a swaggering step or two towards him.
"Deja me ver la carta," said Karnes.
"Vuestra Merced, es el commandante ?"
"No," answered Karnes, in Spanish. "I am not the commander;
but I would like to see the address, and then you can go to him."
He produced the letter, which proved to be addressed to General
Austin.
"Now for the bottle," said Roach.
"None of that, Nathan. The contents of that bottle would only
increase the difficulties of an individual already intoxicated by a
superabundance of eccentricity."
"Don't talk no Mexican to me, Hamilton ; preach to the pris'ner/'
Karnes, directing the fellow to produce the bottle, he lowered
his sack and, opening it, disclosed what was demanded.
The corporal here interposed i and thanking Karnes for having
acted as interpreter, he marched his squad and his prisoner towards
headquarters.
* * * *
"Hello, Perry! Where you been?"
The youthful member of the mess was thus addressed by Karnes,
as he came in sight on the bluff above. The next moment he had
descended and stood among them.
"I have been all the way back to where you camped last night."
"And for what?" asked two or three.
"To take dispatches to General Austin."
"Is the army there already?" asked Mr. Trigg.
"No, sir. Captain Bowie left a co.urier there this morning to
wait for the papers and take them on. I suppose he wanted the
GUY RAYMOND. 187
general to get them as soon as possible, for we had orders not to
spare horseflesh."
"Perry is yarning, for his horse is hack there with mine," said
Jones.
"Now ; Jones," interposed Hamilton,, "don't you imagine that
Perry has your failing."
"The captain furnished me his own horse," Perry explained.
"Something important and urgent must 1 have been disclosed by
that Mexican this morning, and Bowie has sent to hurry up the
lagging rear."
"Do you mean the Mexican, Ruiz, Mr. Hamilton?"
"His name is a sealed mystery to me, Perry; hut that he is a
Greaser of the bon ton variety I am quite certain."
"I think that Ruiz caused the captain to send for General Austin
sooner than he intended. I happened to be near and he made me get
his horse, while he dashed off a few lines which he called the dis-
patches."
"Somethin's up, by hookey!" exclaimed Nathan.
Perry looked at the latter rather curiously, when Hamilton re-
marked :
"Mr. Roach, I do not believe you know our youngster. Perry,
this is Mr. Roach, whose Christian name is Nathan signifying a
gift. Dame Fortune bestowed him upon us temporarily, but we
perceived that, beneath a rough exterior, there dwelt intrinsic worth,
that our diamond gift but lacked the polisher's hand to disclose
priceless scintillations of character. And so we kept him with us,
and henceforward, through the rigor of camp life and the vicissitudes
of war, he is to be our messmate and comrade. Mr. Roach, this is
Perry Asbury, the youngest soldier in the army, but for all that
a veteran."
"I saw Mr. Roach the day he joined us on the Cibolo," said Perry,
shaking the other's hand.
"S'pose I seen you, too, Mister Perry, but I didn't l^now nobody
Inn. Karnes. But look here, my friend, how can you make out my
name means a gift?"
"Nathan is a Hebrew word and means gift in our language,"
said Hamilton, with a pedantic air.
"You knows a power, cert'in. You don't talk 'Merican like
common folks. Ef I could read I s'pose I could understand you
more'n I do. But I can trot you through on a shoot, or a trail, or
fi^lifin' (In-Jiscis, and don't you forgit it w-h-o-o-p !"
Nathan gave the whoop in Indian style and executed a revolution
188 GUY RAYMOND.
sidewise on his hands, and landing on his feet right in front oi
Hamilton, made a hideous grimace directly in the latter's face.
Hamilton patted him on the back, saying:
"You'll do, Nathan. You're a diamond of the roughest water."
"I know how to pack the stuff in canteens but lots or not lots
rimples or no rimples you an' Jones will have to fetch it nex'
time."
"Did you hear the captain say if it's here we are to fight if the
Mexicans come out?" asked Mr. Trigg of Perry.
"I heard him and Captain Fannin and that fellow Ruiz talk
about this bluff being a good breastwork to protect our men if they
came out in force."
"It is too high, if it is to be a breastwork. If we should want
to fire over it, we'd have a mighty poor footing, steep as it is."
"That puts an idea in my head," said Jones, who had got over
his bruise.
So saying, he picked up the mess hatchet and going to the foot
of the bluff, he began to chop into its side.
"What the nation is he a-doin'?" queried Nathan.
"There is something in Jones besides lying," said Hamilton.
"It is a good idea."
"It's steps he is cutting," said Mr. Trigg. "Every mother's son
in the camp should do the same thing."
"Steps for every two," suggested Karnes. "One to fire while
other is down loading."
"Fll cut mine right now," said Perry. "This long knife is j
the thing for it," and he began his work a few feet from Jones.
Before many minutes the members of the mess had steps cut in
a half dozen places, sufficiently high up to look well over the bank.
At Mr. Trigg-'s suggestion, Karnes was sent as a committee of one
to give the idea to the officers, and the consequence was that before
dark Jones' idea became an accomplished fact, all along the line.
The scouters from the right bank of the river returned with an
ample supply of beef, reporting all quiet in that direction. A picket
was placed at the ford, to prevent a surprise, and night spread her
mantle over the Texan camp. The fires glowed through the timber,
while the voices and laughter of the men could be heard as they
cooked their rations of fresh beef and talked of the probable hap-
penings of the morrow. The sentries walked their posls on the
plateau, keeping viligant watch in the direction of the enemy, braced
by the frosty air of a still and cloudless night that, despite the
brilliant firmament, rendered the vision so uncertain a shadow might
GUY EAYMOND. 189
be turned into a prowling foe, or a bush magnified into a nocturnal
spectre.
It was the same day on which the Texans encamped at Conception,
that Guy witnessed the passage of the Mexican cavalry down Carcel
street to the river ford. The approach of the revolutionists had
become known to the authorities and this force was posted south of
the town on the left bank of the river. On a peninsula formed by
a circuit of the stream and opposite the southeast corner of the
plaza a body of infantry was mustered on the forenoon of the day
in question. A general officer with a numerous staff, gaily uniformed,
all mounted on prancing ponies, dashed through the narrow streets
and turning to the ford crossed to where the infantry was under-
going an inspection. The arrival of the mounted party terminated
the inspection in a salute, when a consultation ensued between the
newly arrived official and his officers, in which they were joined by
the commander of the infantry. During a discussion pertaining to
the presence of the rebels in the vicinity, a mounted man, in the
ordinary garb of a civilin of the lower class, rode near, and saluting,
stated that he desired to speak to Colonel Ugartachia.
"Tell him to approach," said the colonel.
"Who is he?" asked General Cos.
"I am a sergeant, sir, of Captain Castinado's company, and was
detailed, as a spy to find out the movements of the rebels. I have
gained important information and wish to communicate it to your
worship."
"Por dios! Cut short your preface and give us the news, man."
"The rebels are approaching Concepcion in force and perhaps
their advance is already there."
"How know you this, sir?"
"I saw them in the distance with my two eyes. Myself and the
man detailed to go with me left our horses in the wood and while
we were questioining a woman who lives at the mission, one Eui/, a
Mexican, rode up and while he was talking to us about joining the
rebels and advising us to help drive out the national troops, \\c
suddenly saw the dust in the road about a mile below. The dust
was caused by the march of the rebels."
"Their number? Do you know it?" asked the colonel.
"About two. hundred."
"And Euiz did he meet them?"
"We returned without delay to our horses and made haste to
"W
hat else said this Euiz?"
190 GUY BAYMOND.
"He said our soldiers were convicts and were brought here
destroy the liberties of the people."
General Cos called to an aid, and after a minute's deliberation,
said hastily:
"Lieutenant! Order Castanado's company to reinforce the picke
on the mission road at once. This infantry battalion will be held
in readiness for instant action, with cooked rations, prepared for any
forward movement which developments may render, necessary."
Then turning to Colonel Ugartaehia, he said :
"Colonel, it will be well to have an immediate inspection of the
entire garrison and the whole available cavalry force put into the
best shape for service by morning. These Americans mean mischief.*'
The lieutenant galloped away to carry out the orders of his chief,
while the latter and his staff rode in the direction of the Alamo.
"Ugartachia," said the general. "I would like to find out if
Austin is with this force. If he is present, we have the whole rebel
crew to fight. How can I manage it?"
"How would a flag of truce do?"
"They would only meet it by one in charge of a subaltern, and
he would not give the information unless by accident."
"Let us send the old fellow, who sells piloncillas next to my
headquarters, with a present to Austin of some of his stock in trade.
He is so old they would never hurt him; and he is so avaricious
will undertake it to get paid for a score of his sweetmeats."
"A present from whom? They would imagine the things we
poisoned."
"Send it in the name of the padre, Ignacio. He is not a bellig-
erent, and is acquainted with the rebel chief."
"An excellent idea! TJgastachia, you put it into execution."
irted
Guy had not lain long on his bed, thinking of the news impa:
by Josefa in regard to Beatrice Navarro's engagement, when his door
opened and the voice of Father Ignacio called to him.
"What is it, Father?"
"Why have you come to this cheerless place without a fire, when
the air is so raw ? If the fellow is not lying here on his bed in the
dark! Come to the sitting room, where there is a grand fire, and
nobody to keep me company but prosy Father Nicolas. Come do
and help me poke him into activity."
"All right," said Guy, rising. "I just threw myself down he
for a moment, fully intending to join you after a while."
"Getting homesick, and wanting to join your people, no doub
GUY KAYMOND. 191
You had bettor stay with me ;m<i si inly Tor the priesthood, than be
\viili them, murdering our pickets ;m<l now about to lay siege to
San Anionio. Come along, child, I know you arc cold."
The priest preceded (juy to Hie sitting room, where Father Nicolas
sat, looking v;ic;intly inio the fire. lie rose awkwardly, greeting the
young American, hni not offering his hand.
"Where have you been all this afternoon?'' continued Father
Ignacie., and without, waiting for a reply, "I concluded you had
rted after hearing ihat those daredevil countrymen of yours were
in force at Concepciou and were firing on the national troops/'
"I am yet on parole, sir. I trust the fact had escaped your
ory, when you concluded (hat I had done an act to violate it."
Oh! Muchacho mio, I was just joking. I have every faith in
y'g honor."
I have heard noihing of any fighting today," said ("Juy, in a
softer tone. "If there, lias heen. I should like to hear the news.''
re '-ould you have heen, sure enough. It is all over town."
I walked home with the Senorita do la Torre and spent the
oon there."
'a. the i 1 lo-nacio knitted his hrows at the reply.
\ou know her! Two unbelievers. Poor, poor Josefa; pedida!
perdida! Hut never mind about Josefa; I must tell you of the
cM-itoincnt. (general Austin is supposed to bo at Conception; at
any rate there is quite a force there and most of the afternoon there
lias boon skirmishing between the opposing armies. Two or three
r troops have been wounded one quite seriously."
ery seriously !" interrupted Father Nicolas. "I gave him the
acraments an hour MITO and he may not, live, through the night."
War! War! It is terrible," said Father Ignacio, leaning back
is chair and looking reflect ingly into the blazing logs.
'And yet your people are ever waging it among themselves, and
internecine warfare is the most horrible of all; yet it is maintained
by some of our philosophers that all wars are great civilizers and
that their ultimate effects have been to improve mankind. Your
church has sanctioned conquests where butchery succeded butchery.
until race annihilation left little obstacle to Christian supremacy.
I) d the church consider terrible the means employed?"
If the church has sanctioned such it was God's act. God speaks
gh an infallible church."
hen I suppose it is God's will that the unbelieving Tcxans in
ruggle be wiped up by the national troops."
'Very likely very likely."
192 GUY KAYMOND.
"But suppose, Father, that the Texans succeed in driving th
national troops across the Eio Grande."
"God permits the devil to triumph occasionally; why not th
rebels?"
"In the interests of liberty and civilization, it is to be hoped then,
that He will be in His occasional humor."
"You may not hope for the highest civilization until you arrive
at the true faith."
"If you mean that the highest civilization exists where your
religion has exercised the fullest sway, then my reading has been
to little purpose, if you are correct. Take your own country Spain
for an example. With all her prestige and golden opportunities
she has retrograded until she has become a third-class power. Super-
stition made her indifferent to progress and controlled her kings,
.who owed allegiance to Home. Her greatness and achievements
rested upon the mysticism, that, for every effect," found a supernatural
cause and flowed from the king to the people, like the principles of
a deductive system whose defects are hidden in the glow of a priori
conceptions."
"What is the matter with Father Nicolas? I believe he is count-
ing the logs in the ceiling to keep from hearing Senor Raymond's
homily."
"No, Father Ignacio, I was praying for the senor."
"Well, senor, how did you find out our superstition? You are a
young reasoner and I will make all allowances."
"From history. You and I differ in the definition of superstition.
I term it superstition, when the people of Madrid, instead of resort-
ing to sanitary methods to abate the ravages of a plague, had
recourse to religious processions and outdoor masses; leaving the
reeking filth of their streets to infect the atmosphere and render
more fatal the scourge caused by their own neglect. I call it super-
stition when a king of Spain, instigated by episcopal dictation, forbid
the introduction of Newton's beautiful philosophy into the Spanish
universities, remarking that the prayerbook was good enough phil-
osophy for the Spanish students."
"My dear child, God is all powerful, you must remember, and as
he found it easy to create this universe by his mere will, how easy,
if he desired, would it be to arrest a plague. In the case you alluded
to he scourged the people until his anger been mo appeased, and Hu-
rl ifficulty came to an end. In regard In the teaching of philosophies
in the universities of Spain, the Holy Church is always careful to
investigate all new theories to discover if they contain principles
GUY RAYMOND. 193
adverse to dogmas. She accepts the good and rejects the bad."
"Being infallible," suggested Guy, "she should readily discern
the merits of a theory without subjecting it to the test of exami-
nation. Examination necessitates reasoning, and to reason is to
depend upon human judgment and human experience; to depend
upon human experience is to reason synthetically or by induction
from particulars to generals. Inductively considered, your religion
and civilization would both be condemned."
'No tienes miedo !" exclaimed Father Nicolas, half rising and
leaning earnestly towards the young man. "Are you not afraid to
ilk in such a manner?"
"Afraid! Be (juiet. good Nicolas. This boy has never had
istruction. He is steeped in the ignorance of heretical education,
kich training as his gives him no advantage over the aborigines, for
rhose conversion to the faith these missions were erected by the
rood fathers of our order."
"And where, good Father, are these aborigines today? The Indian
)f the pure type is still a savage. Those who succumbed to the power
)f the church are lost in the mongrel race, that possesses a ques-
ionable advantage over the wild tribes in all that pertains to true
ivili/ation."
"The lower class of Mexicans, I admit, are unlettered; but, senor,
ley are a pious people; they love their church and therefore occupy
most essential position to secure their happiness hereafter. A
lome in heaven is vastly more important than the highest literary
ittainments, with the danger of lapsing into infidelity like yours."
"The senor should read the lives of the saints and learn of the
^reat miracles they have performed," said Father Nicolas.
"I have a volume he will like better," said Father Ignacio. "It is
died the 'Influences of Catholicity on Civilization/ r -
"That must be an ingenuous work from a Catholic standpoint,"
lid Guy.
Here the door opened and Jose appeared, stating that a messenger
i ad come for Father Nicolas to attend the dying soldier. The young
i lost no time in responding to the call, and left his two com-
>anions with a pleasant good night.
"Will he be gone until late?" asked Guy, as the door closed.
"Who knows? A priest must go and he must stay as long as
teeded. Father Nicolas is very willing, but he is no company,
mor Raymond. His mind and body are both frail. I am satisfied
will never be a cardinal."
"lie said he had given this soldier the last sacraments. If I
194 GUY "RAYMOND.
have been rightly informed, that is all that a priest can do for
dying man/'
"That is all true, hut the poor fellow may have thought of a si
unconfessed. It would not do to die with a fault unconfessed, wit
a priest at hand to give absolution. Perhaps he may want him to say
prayers for the dying. This revolution is going to be a bad, bad
affair, Senor Kaymond."
"Did you learn if the garrison expects an immediate attack?"
"Attack! General Cos has already ordered a movement, to com-
mence early in the morning, that will no doubt result in the capture
of those fellows at Conception. He has learned their position and
numbers and feels confident."
"The Texans will be hard to whip, even with great odds. They
have the advantage of strong individualities that make every man a
leader. It would not surprise me if you and Father Nicolas will
have your hands full tomorrow, giving rousnlalion to the wounded
and dying victims of Texan bullets."
"Puede ser, puede ser. But we will not shrink from our duty,
senor."
CHAPTER XXVIII.
The moderated temperature brought with it a thick fog, whose
floating mists hung like a veil over mission and woodland, retarding
the advancing light of early dawn, enveloping in moisture the grass-
covered plateau and the sylvan foliage overhanging the Texan camp.
The pattering drops from the dripping leaves, the cracking of a
twig, caused by the movements of a horse browsing near, the leap of
an early squirrel, in quest of his morning meal, causing a rustle
among the branches of a pecan, were noises greet ing the first strug-
gling glimmers from the east, that disclosed the bivouac beyond the
bluff with its blue smoke rising among the trees, scarcely distin-
guishable from the maze of vapor. Around the dying embers of
the mess fires the recumbent, forms, enveloped in blankets, began
one by one to move, until the later and clearer light found the whol
(amp astir and busy in preparation.
"Perry, wake up that la/y Frenchman," said Hamilton, as he
came up, dragging a small branch of deadwood, that an urchin
might have shouldered. "Here I have been hunting wood since
daylight, and he wrapped up in his blanket. Stir him up. boy."
IVrry advanced to where Dncio ITalfen lay, as described
Hamilton, and pulling awav the blanket, shouted to him to
'
GUT RAYMOND. 1 '.'">
Ducio responded with a vigorous kick that struck Perry squarely
in the stomach and sent him reeling to the ground. lie followed
up the kick by rising and springing at the prostrate boy, with the
fury of a beast; but before he could reach the object of his rage
lie was felled by a well aimed blow on the temple, from the brawny
arm and ponderous fist of Mr. Trigg, who, having witnessed the
cowardly kick, intervened to prevent a more serious sequel.
"Perry, is it much hurt, ye are?" asked Mr. Trigg, as he bent
>ver the boy.
"He had the breath kicked out of him," said Hamilton. "Don't
see he is just getting it back again ?"
"The murderin' devil! He'd best keep out o' my way. Perry!
MTV ! My boy."
IN TIT looked up at the good old Irishman.
"I MIII a little hurt here," lie gasped, placing his hand on his
)mach.
'The dirty devil!" muttered Mr. Trigg, scowling at Ducio, who
near with a blood-stained temple.
"I'll get even with you you Irish Hessian," said Halfen.
"Wait 'til I mind the boy and I'll Im after teaching you a bit
manners."
"What in the name of the incomprehensible did you kick that
for?" asked Hamilton.
"Don't you like it?"
"Now, Sir Ducio, if you are for war with the whole mess, it is
t that you get out of it. I told Perry to awaken you and it was
111 to assault him as you did. You should be ashamed of it."
don't want any of your lecturing, Tip Hamilton. I'd have
:ed any one who had no better sense than to strip me and hallo
my ear."
As Ducio said this he walked sulkily away and seated himself at
further end of the fallen tree.
Perry had so far recovered that he was sitting up and breathing
lite regularly, while Mr. Trigg remained by him, asking him fre-
lenlly how he was feeling.
'I saw a man laid out for good from a kick no worse nor tin's."
"Donf worry about me, Mr. Trigg, for I feel nearly all right
i in. Ducio was half asleep, I suppose, and didn't mean to hurt
))
"Didn't ho, though? It's flic cluirgo. ho made after ye was down
it ye should V seen. My list il was that saved the finishing of
196
GUY KAYMOND.
t_j
the
ye. A wild beast couldn't V looked worst when he came charging
after ye. Didn't mean to hurt ye!"
One two three four shots; then a fusilade.
The shots came from the plateau, close at hand, just over
bluff. The magic of the reports produced activity in the camp.
Through the timber, along the line, men flew to their guns ; questions
and replies were shouted back and forth in quick succession. The
officers hurried to the bluff, hastily giving orders as they passed.
Suddenly a man sprang over the embankment, his gun in one hand
and his powder horn in the other.
It was Karnes. The men greeted him with a cheer and a shower
of questions.
"It's the Greasers," he said, "and the damned rescals have shot
the bottom out of my powder horn."
Karnes had been placed on post when the four o'clock relief went
the rounds and had the honor of receiving the enemy. They fired on
him just as they became visible through the fog. He returned their
fire once with his rifle, and again with his pistol, in answer to the
volley. They retired after his pistol shot and he retreated to the
camp. Certain that the enemy was present in force, the two com-
manders ranged their men under the bluff, with instructions to mount
the steps they had cut in its side until their heads would appear
above it and their eyes could sweep the plateu beyond. The Mexican
field music could be distinctly heard and an occasional sound of a
voice, as a command was probably shouted preparing for an advance.
The Texans were on the alert and eager for the fray. Perhaps
thirty minutes elapsed before the enemy gave any account of him
"Here they come!"
It was Jones who spoke.
"Where?" asked Hamilton.
"Are you blind ?"
"My optics are splendid."
"Look there !"
"So! I see them."
"The dirty yaller-bellies !" exclaimed Nathan, ten yards away.
"They are not coming," said Perry, now oblivious of his hurt.
"Sure, they're not," said Mr. Trigg. "It's the fog a-lifting."
"Divide your powder, boys, quick ! I've got another horn."
"Here's mine, Mr. Karnes. Leave me enough."
"All right, Perry."
"This reminds me of when we were waiting for a charge
the Sepoys," said Jones.
GUY RAYMOND. 197
"What's a Sea Poys?" asked Nathan.
'I was speaking of a people in India-
"Who in thunder wants to hear of India now?" asked Hamilton.
"You had better be saying your prayers ; because if those Greasers
'By the powers! They're on the move. It's a dirty set to be
after shooting. The British at Orleans made the purtiest mark with
their red coats and we behind the cotton bags."
"Be ready there, men!" shouted Captain Bowie. "Every other
man throw up his rifle and reserve his fire until we see the effect
of the first volley. Whatever they do give them the second volley
then and aim well."
K^he Mexican infantry, now about three hundred yards distant,
advancing in common time in line of battle. Over their heads
, ,.v,rce of mounted troops could be seen, making flank movements,
right and left, intending, perhaps, to clear the infantry front. On
their right, two pieces of field artillery were planted with the
cai>sons in the rear, drawn by mules.
Suddenly the artillery belched forth to cover the infantry's ad-
vance, and grape and cannister went crashing through the branches
of the trees in the Texan rear, doing no other damage. At one
hundred yards the Mexican infantry opened fire. Like their artillery,
they aimed too high, if they aimed at all, for the Texan position
effectually concealed their force, save here and there, where a head
would pop up, its dardevil owner inviting the aim of their marks-
men. The silence of their onrmv was, of itself, an ominous circum-
stance. The approaching line evidently felt that death lingered but
a few rods in advance, only to make surer of its victims, for when
only seventy-five yards intervened between it and the bluff, it wav-
ered then halted. Their officers expostulated then ordered them
to fire, to reassure them. After two volleys from their ranks, they
again advanced at quick time, but ere a dozen paces had lessened their
distance, the crack of fifty rifles sent a leaden hail into their ranks
with deadly effect. A waver of the line, succeeded by desultory
firing, and a curve that brought the flanks far ahead of the more
stricken center, was followed by hesitation and much confusion.
Another volley from the alternate files, who had reserved their
fire, decided the matter and the shattered line fled in dismay, followed
by irregular shots from the Texans as they reloaded. The latter kept
their position. In the absence of pursuit, the infantry halted at six
hundred yards. The two field pieces were now brought in close
rat :<n in sweep the Texan line. When the enemy commenced the
latter movement Captains Bowie and Fannin, anticipating its pur-
198 (T[TT "RAYMOND.
pose, marched thoir coin man els by the right flank, under the cover
of the bluff, so as to bring the former's company Completely around
the angle of that embankment. This brought the Texan right in
rifle, distance of the new position assumed by the two guns, without
having disclosed its proximity. The enemy's ignorance of any change
in the position of their opponents was soon disclosed by the artillery
fire directed against the point but a few minutes before occupied
by Fannin's company. The gunners were not allowed to continue this
waste of ammunition.
"Here, Karnes ! Let six good shots keep those guns silent/'
shouted Bowie.
A moment more two gunners fell in the act of firing.
"Good shot, bailie." said Karnes. '"We both got 'em. Now
ITani ill'on and you Perry."
Bang! Bang! Bang! Throo shots rang out with scarcely an
interval.
"It wasn't your turn, Jones!" expostulated Hamilton.
"I got mine all Ihe same," retorted Jones.
More shots; and Then others followed as fast as a gunner attempted
to fire a, piece, and at each discharge more victims were added to
the exquisite marksmanship of the Texans. A spent shot struck a
mule attached to one of the caissons and stampeded the team. The
later went, at full speed, across the plateau, and meeting the infantry,
au'ain returning to the conflict, dashed through their ranks, throwing
them into confusion. The cavalry bugler now sounded a charge, more
perhaps, for the purpose of making a show of attack, than from any
reasonable hope of dislodging a well-fortified foe. Nevertheless, on
they came, while the remorseless rifles of their enemy but awaited a
surer aim. Although they ventured not too closely, yet when they
wheeled in rejreat, several empty saddles went with them. The
relivat.ing horse disclosed the denoted infantry again in motion to
aiiack. The diversion erealed by (he cavalry evolution enabled the
ariillerv lo hurl a storm of gmpe :it the Texan right and center. The
missiles lore ihe ground and swept across the brow of the bluff and
threatened serious execution, until again the avenging bullets of the
right cleared the guns and abated the danger. By this the inl'antiv
had gained closer <piar(crs and began a rapid fusilade at the Texans.
whom the din of battle had rendered indifferent to the c\|osure of
their persons, and who kept head and shoulders into view, disapp
ing only to reload.
"Why can't we- charge?" nsked Perry, wilh boyish enthusiasm.
"I >o\\n \viih ye, hoy! It's below ye should load."
j of
GUY T? AY. MO NO. 1!)!)
"All right, Mr. Trigg."
""When the first sign of confusion nppears amonv; the Mexicans,
up mid charge them!" shouted "Howie, and then added:
"Pass the order along- the line."
"By* the nation!" exclaimed Xathan. "If that' Greaser didn't
jump six foot when my bullet hit him!"
The Mexican line here moved suddenly forward with a yell, after
having delivered a heavy fire. But the Texnns were prepared. A
deadly fusilade made havoc in their ranks. Confusion and dismay
made easy work for the Texan onset which followed. With a wild
yell, that rent the air from center to either flank, the impatient men
threw themselves forward upon their enemy, who turned and fled.
"To the cannon!" shouteci Hamilton.
"Here I am I" answered Koach.
These, with several of their comrades, oh urged the ims and soon
: Iliein. Just as ihey reached the piece-, a uallnnt Mexican
was attempting io spike ihem. Nathan was about |o send him to his
1;H account, when Hamilton knocked away the cluhhed rifle.
"Don't kill the poor devil ! Turn the in ins on Ihe Hying cowards."
IFamilton took the plucky Mexican prisoner and joined his com-
rades in directing the cannon after its late owners.
"Hold, men!" commanded Bowie. "How much ammunrdon for
pieces?"
'''Only two loads/' answered Hamilton, a Her having hastily made
the inspoci ion.
"Then reserve it in case those people should return."
The I\loxicans proved to he complelelv routed. A few minuff-;
had served 1o clear ihe plateau afler the rout, began. The viciors
returned IVom the pursuit and proceeded io colled ihe fruits and
calculate the cost of their victory. The hatllefiold was strewn vviHi
dc;id and wounded Mexicans, whore their infanlry had suffered,
while around the cannon lav (he ghasflv corpses of twenty avtillery-
men.
The Texan loss was trifling', one man having been killed and a
few wounded. Among the latter was Mr. Trigg, who received a
musket ball in his shoulder, making a painful wound. The enemy
had sulTered grieviously tln'ou^h his own mistakes. His tactics were
unpardonable and exhibited the grossest incompetency, rendering un-
available, bis superior numbers und diversity of arms. Howie and
Fannin were jubilant and proud of a victory secured before the
arrival of the main body of the army.
f>c fore tiie camp had again settled down from the excitement of
victory, and the confusion incident to collecting the spoils of battle,!
Austin's little army came in sight. The newly arrived troops were
greatly enthused at the heroism of their comrades and were clamorous
to be led against the city. A council of the officers, however, decided
against it, and the ardor of the men had to succumb to authorit} r .
By permission, Mr. Trigg was conveyed to the jacal behind the
mission, where lived Locaria, the little Mexican woman with whom
Ruiz had conversed the day previous. Here Perry was detailed to
attend his old friend with any of his mess for relief who might be
designated. At noon a flag of truce arrived from the town, under
the charge of a priest, who requested leave to bury their dead. This
last rite was performed most expeditiously, by using a deep trench
and laying the bodies side by side, after the fashion of war, shroud-
less and coffinless. General Austin, who was standing near the
mission when the interment was about concluded, sent for the priest,
to have a talk with him. When the latter came, the recognition
which followed seemed to be mutual.
"Father Ignacio, as I live!"
"General Austin ! How are you ?"
"This is sad work, Father."
"Then why make such work?"
"To secure liberty."
"The Mexicans are satisfied."
"Then I pity them."
"They ask no pity but to be let alone."
"Are we aggressors?"
"Yes, primarily, as colonists."
"We are here under contract."
"Which you have transcended/'
"By Santa Anna's interpretation."
"It is Mexican territory. The sovereign authority mav interpret
without appeal."
"Except the appeal to arms."
"The argument of unreason."
"The resort of men who will not be enslaved."
"The resort of territorial bandits."
"An imputation that should never be raised by a Spaniard."
"The Spaniard conquered but to save. Where his banner waved
the cross was planted."
"And. extermination began."
"A truce to this war of words. General, you are thin in f
"Is that why you sent me the mescal and the piloncillas ?"
GUY RAYMOND. 201
"That was a 'ruse de guerre/ as the French say. My name was
used, but I knew nothing of the matter, until I was told at our
headquarters of the device to ascertain your presence."
"Father, there is an Irishman, wounded and lying in yonder jacal.
As lie belongs to your faith, you had better visit him. He is a true
revolutionist, however."
Father Ignacio stated that his time was limited, but he would
see the unfortunate for a moment.
Mr. Trigg was lying on the bed in the jacal. Locaria was remov-
ing the remains of a lunch of which he had been partaking, when
Father Ignacio pushed aside the fresada at the door. The little
woman saluted and invited him tp enter.
"Is there a wounded man within?"
"Yes, my father."
"Can he speak Spanish ?"
"I think not."
As soon as the priest entered, Mr. Trigg recognized his office by
his dress, and held out his hand.
"God bless you, my poor man. Are you badly wounded?" the
father asked in Spanish.
"I know it's your blessing you're giving me, Father, and it's
thankful I am to your reverence, if I can't understand a word you're
saying."
"Not speak Spanish?" the priest asked, in illy articulated Eng-
lish.
"I could never twist my tongue to it. But it's your reverence
who can speak a little of my language."
"Xo entiendo not un'stan."
"It's, little use we'll be to one another, for our lingos are like
oil and water. Is it from town ye are sir? But sorrow a word he
knows of what I be telling him. He might know the boy too, or
the priest he fell in with. If I could talk their lingo like Guy, I'd
BOOH be knowing all about it. He might be knowing the name of
the lad if I should speak it."
He looked earnestly at the priest, as if devising some means by
which to make himself understood, then said slowly:
"Is your reverence acquainted with Guy Guy Raymond?'
Despite the peculiar brogue, which augmented the Spaniard's dif-
ficulty in reconciling Mr. Trie's pronunciation of Guy's name with
the sounds -riven it in the more euphonious enunciation to which he
had hecn accustomed, he caught the surname and asked in his own
language:
AYMOND;
"Did you say something of Senor Raymond?"
"Seiinour Raymond! That's Mister Kaymond yes, Father, Sen-
110 ur Raymond." Then pointing to his own breast, he continued:
"My boy my boy."
"Sec muchacho de VI" said the lather, in surprise. Then he
said, as if in soliloquy: "He told me his lather was dead."
"Not a word! Not a word! Oh! II lie could speak a decent
language."
"L'aymond (iuy Raymond/' repeated Father Ignacio.
"That's him! That's him" said the other, excitedly.
"Como se llama V. ?" asked his visitor, imitating the motion of
writing.
"Sure, I couldn't- \\riic in this lix/' said Mr. Trig^. mistaking his
meaning. "It's my right arm and shoulder that's hurt."
Father Jgnucio took from his pocket a pencil and piece of paper.
Then, motioning to himself, he said:
"Father Ignacio." Then, pointing toward the town, he pro-
nounced UK; name of Guy. Then, putting his hand on Mr. Trigg's
breast, he said :
"Mister ?"
"Oh! It's my name! Trigg, it is, sir Trigg, it is sir.''
The brogue here again had a. had effect, while the three mono-
syllables which the Irishman, in his volubility, unfortunately em-
ployed, and which were not intelligible to his auditor, merged them-
selves into the short sobriquet and, in the mind of the priest, danced
attendance as terminal parts of suffixes. He accordingly repeated,
after Mr. Trigg's announcement:
"Trigatissa Trigatissa."
"What is the creature after saving? He should learn a decent
talk or take o(f his cassock. One little Irish priest is worth a ship's
load of his kind."
Father Ignacio had written the mime as he had repeated it,
held it up for its owner to recognize.
"F haven't my specs; but I can see that if my picture would 1(
as little like myself as that looks like Trigg then my ould mother
would not know it."
He looked at Father Ignacio, and shaking his head in an emphai
negative, said emphatically:
"Trigg's my name Trigg V my name."
The patient priest again look his pencil and wrote: "Trigsmiiioi
He held if up as before'. Mr. Trigg scrulini/ed if. first in
side, then to the other; then held it off to the length of his left arm.
GUY KAY.MOXD. 203
'"Sure, it looks longer ihan tin- other tiling he put down. I'm
after thinking it's out of your power to understand anything about
names. J sairl it as plain as a mortal man could, and ye've got it
all wrong, which I can loll by the, length of it; for it's short my
name is; no more nor five letters T-r-i-g-g- Trigg.''
The good priest was, of course, lost io know what Mr. Trigg was
saying, hut secured the paper and put it in his pocket. Then he
dre\v forth from the opposite breast of his cassock a pocket from
which he selected a piclure of (lie sacred heart and a small medal.
These he gave to the wounded Irishman, al ihe same time signifying,
by making the sign of ihe cross over them, thai they had heen
blessed. This the other comprehended at once, and thanked the
donor.
< 'niisulling Ids watch, Kafher l^nacio gave both the inmates of
the room his blessing and departed.
Mr. Trigg indulged in a. short soliloquy when left, alone, in which
lie gave vent to reflections suggested by his interview with the priest
of San Fernando.
"Fm thankful for the picture and the medal. He is a good man,
no doubt, but has a weakness about understanding names. If it
hadn't been for that lower of Babel Cod's creatures would all be
speaking one way."
,,
CHAPTEE XXIX.
laid awake ihe next morning after his conversation with his
host and Father Nicolas, ruminating indiscriminately on the mass
of events crowded into the chapter of his life, that opened with his
advent into San Antonio. His mind was in that peculiar state that
fixes upon no certain circumstance, but each newborn thought yields
succ.ssivoly to a follower, crowding its way to the attention only
to b" i.n turn discarded with scarcely a recognition, the whole train
forming a mere jumble of conscious realizations not to be dignified
by the name of reflection. The kindness of the good priest, who
had been his fast friend, was uppermost in his mind, but gave place
to a mixture of subjects, among which the face of the fair Beatrice
would intrude itself constantly and dwell longer than its fellows. He
was roused suddenly from this medley by the sound of a.rtillery and
the [topping of small arms, whose 1 report told that the affray had
opened ' f \\, about the distance of the first mission. He sprang from
(he bed and listened from the window. He knew his countrymen
had been attacked in their position arid that the artillery whose
2-04. GUY RAYMOND.
reports had been brought to him on the heavy atmosphere of the
misty morning was directed at their ranks, and the thought sent the
blood rapidly through his veins, while he made a mental picture of
the conflict. He hurried on his clothes as if some purpose necessi-
tated haste, but pasuing as he was about to descend, he reflected :
"What can I do but remain here inactive?"
Parolel to not leave certain limits, he could not join his fri(
nor could he get sympathy from any, even should he go to the sitting
room or out into the town. Father Ignacio was awaiting him for
breakfast.
"Have you heard the firing?" he asked of Guy.
"The sounds of the guns aroused me."
"General Cos intended a surprise just before day, but the first
gun fired at seven."
"Perhaps he waited for daylight, in order to be able lo see how
to catch all the rebels," said Guy, ironically.
Jose having announced breakfast, the two repaired to the dining-
room, where they found Father Nicolas. The meal was dispatched in
almost total silence. The boom of the guns caused ever and anon
an expressive glance to be exchanged, while the busy mind suppressed
its fullness. Guy partook only of coffee, and in mere courtesy
addressed a remark or two to his companions.
Excusing himself, Guy left the room, receiving a parting injunc-
tion from his host to be seen in the streets as little as possible
pending the excitement. He nevertheless sallied forth, feeling that
close confinement was better than this seeming liberty, limiting him
by viewless barriers, which, while inclination tempted him to dis-
regard them, honor made stronger than the walls of adamant. He
strolled along aimlessly, anxiously listening to the distant firing.
The sound of artillery fire had ceased when he found himself opposite
the home of Beatrice Navarro. Without pausing to debate the pro-
priety of the action, he entered the gate and rapped at the door.
The delay made in responding to his summons grew into minutes
and furnished the caller with time for reflection. He disliked to
repeat his knock, and was equally reluctant to withdraw without
another attempt to make his presence known. He wanted to see
Beatrice Beatrice who was already engaged; Beatrice whom he had
seen but twice, and spoken with but on one occasion. He had ren-
dered her a service and had been invited to call. He had promised.
He was here. Was he calling; to claim more thanks? Her father's
thanks had been promised. He did not care a cent for that gentle-
man's gratitude. This call seemed to him purposeless; but like the
Gtrx KAY MOM). 205
needle he was drawn to this magnet: of a girl, who was engaged.
11(3 wished he had never seen Josef,-!. lie hoped to never- again IK-MI*
of Ruiz. He rapped again. Sounds of steps were heard inside. A
little flush of anticipation colored his fair cheek as the impersonation
of a divinity was expected to appear and bid him welcome. The
door opened and disclosed an old gentleman of quiet demeanor, with
gray hair and beard who, glancing inquiringly at him, exchanged the
morning salutation in Spanish and inquired :
"Who have I the pleasure to greet ?"
"Guy Baymond, sir."
"Will you walk in, sir, and have a seat?"
Guy entering, glanced around the apartment and took the prof-
fered (-hair. The old gentleman, scaling himself quite, opposite,
placed his hands upon his knees and inclining his body slightly
forward, cast another inquiring look at; bis visitor.
"You are Senor -Navarre?"
"At your service, senor."
"\ came around to soe to see to see you, sir."
"I am a I. your disposition, senor."
"Are the ladies at home?"
"My daughters! Do you know them?"
"Assuredly ho has not, beard/' i bought Guy. "Yes I know the
Scnorita Beatrice."
"The ladies are not in just now. lint, senor, I understand it
was I you wished to see."
"The Senorita Beatrice said that she would like to have me
make your acquaintance, because you are so fond of her."
"Beatrice said that? De verras ! That is a queer reason. If
my fondness for my daughter makes it of moment that I should
kno\\ r you, there must be something between Beatrice and yourself
that should not have existed without, my previous knowledge."
Tin; old gen I ICMIMII straightened up as he said this and rising
from his chair, made a couple of strides and looked for an answer.
(iuy colored deeply and hastened to explain:
"It is quite evident, Scnor Navarro, that you do not understand
my moti\o in calling. T
"Yes, senor, from your own lips. It was to make my acquaint-
ance, and that my younger daughter desired it/'
"If you will allow me I will explain why she desired it."
'Tbi-ri you will re;ieh the point I wish to understand."
"ft was my good fortune to render her a service."
service!"
206 GUY RAYMOND.
ich she
ler.
:
"Upon which she places too much importance, and whicl
thought you would appreciate highly for the love you bear her.
I'nder those impressions, what more natural than her desire that-
at 1 least we he not strangers."
"Well, senor. the service. What is it?"
"Since the Senorita Beatrice has not seen fit to mention it, it
not meet that information come from my lips. What allusion 1
have made to the subject has been only in an attempted apology for
my presence here. A stranger to you, I have nothing to say of your
cool, but courteous reception of myself. The custom of your people
forbids social intercourse between a comparative stranger and a
daughter of the household; and I pledge you my word of honor, this
call would never have been made save under the circumstances as
I have partially related them."
"You speak very fairly, senor. I shall ask an explanation of
Beatrice."
"Good day, senor," and Guy bowed himself out.
Once upon the street he bit his lip in vexation and hurried along
towards the military plaza in a not very enviable state of mind. It
was .the dinner hour before Guy returned to Father Ignacio's. The
absence of the priest was voluntarily made known by Jose, who came
to see who it was entering the sitting room.
"Father Ignacio went with a flag of truce to get permission
bury the dead."
"So, there have been some killed on the government side."
"A few, senor; but the rebels lost more heavily."
"In that case it is a strange proceeding to get the services
a priest to beg permission of the worsted to bury the dead."
"Sometimes that may happen. Victories are often dearly won.
Guy relapsed into silence and drawing his chair closer to
window, looked abstractedly into the plaza. A careta containing
wounded soldiers passed in from Carcel and continued on up Soledad
street. Mounted officers were riding about and knots of people wei
gathered here and there.
Guy witnessed this passively, his mind full of his own defeated
purpose in calling at Senor Navarro's. Where could Beatrice have
been? Why had she suppressed his service from her father? Wa-
she a flirt? Had she heartlessly laid a trap for him? If Senor
Navarro had not been apprised of her rescue he could not be blamed
for his courteous coolness to a stranger invading unheralded, the
privacy of his home. Instead of proving the fortunate circumstance
he had regarded it, providing a key of admittance to the presem
GUY RAYMOND. 207
of the lovely Beatrice, her rescue now placed him in a most unhappy
position. Now it seemed to him all a mistake. He felt that all the
world was against him. Ruiz, who had hefriended him, was engaged
to this enigma iu woman's most beautiful shape and would doubtless
resent even the suspicion of admiration for her from any other
quarter. A feeling akin to desolation nearly overpowered him, as,
with a deep sigh, he leaned his head forward on his arm. The
rescuer is not always repaid with love by the rescued. Laoni's image
rose before his closed eyes. Laoni was true and loving, but, like
himself, she iras the rescuer.
Guy was aroused by the priest.
"I am glad to see you at home, senor. Those bad countrymen
of yours have killed many of our poor fellows. Such a sad sight!
So sad, senor !"
"Did you go to their camp?'' asked Guy, brightening up with
interest.
saw General Austin at the mission and Bowie, also/'
ere many of our men killed, Father?"
me. I did not ask how many. One wounded rebel is a Catholic
him I saw by request of General Austin. He could not speak
Spanish, nor I English, so we had a very poor interview. He called
name, I think. It sounded very like it."
'Tis a >pity you did not learn his name."
"I did try. I wrote it down as near as I could understand it.
The poor fellow had such a dreadful way of pronouncing his words,
1 thought. I have here a memorandum of his name/' said Father
iLiineio, fumbling in the capacious depths of his cassock pocket, but
w thout producing what lie was searching for.
"It is quite probable I have lost it." he continued, "but I can
repeat it. It sounded like 'Trickomum,' or 'Trickissin,' or 'Triggit-
izzor."
"I wonder if it could have been Mr. Trigg," mused Guy.
"He accepted a picture and a medal from me and after giving
e poor fellow my blessing, I came away. He has a good little
woman nurse, senor; so, if he is a friend of yours, he is in good
hand-."
The next, clay after Guy's disappointment, consequent to his
visit to the Navarre home, Josef a de la Torre was sitting at the
gr-ited window of her homo that looked upon the narrow street, with
one arm resting upon the slab which formed the sill of the opening.
H<T head reposed easily upon her palm as it turned towards an elder
with whom she had apparently been conversing.
M,
208
GUY EAYMOND.
"You are a strange girl, Josefa. You are all your father's."
"It is natural that I should want revenge when it is my natu
to be revengeful. Shall I contend against nature?"
"Certainly. If we have bad inclinations, reason, if not religioi
should show you the necessity of controlling them."
"Nature does nothing bad. If it gave me character, marked by
certain propensities, their indulgence is a natural sequence and is
but the following out of natural law. Beatrice Navarro has cau
me unhappiness and I hate her."
"She has not done so intentionally."
"It makes no difference. It is enough that she is the cause."
"I should think, with your pretended philosophy, that tramples
under foot every principle of religion, you would rise above these
petty jealousies which, to me, indicates more weakness of mind than
belief in all the dogmas of the church, termed by you superstition."
"Tliis is my existence. I know of none other. When I get
through with this world; when I exhaust the knowledge of life's
medium, I come to the stone wall. What is beyond, I know not. I
care not. My happiness here is my all. If anyone comes between
me and my happiness none shall deny me the privilege of hating."
"But, Josfa, you, yourself acknowledge she does not love Senor
Ruiz."
"What difference! He loves her."
"Much. He is the fickle one; she the innocent cause."
"But still the cause. What difference is there in the effect?"
Much again. Ruiz, having no encouragement, may return to th
old love."
"Let him dare to return on such terms ! He will feel my kee
resentment in such a shape that his heart's blood may answer."
"Santa Maria! Josefa, you have gone mad."
"There will be method in n\y madness, as may yet be seen."
The excited girl arose, before her mother's exclamation, an
paced the floor.
"Beatrice Joves this American," she said, "but I will try to find
the means to thwart her. I have a purpose in view, and now is as
good a time to execute it as any.
. is
sed
So saying, Josefa left the room.
for the street.
"Where now?"
"San Fernando."
"To your uncle's?"
"Yes, mother, to uncle's."
In a few moments she reappeared
GUY RAYMOND. 209
"What freak is this that
llci- daughter was in the street before she could complete the
question.
There was a slight dri//le without, but Jose fa. had enveloped her
form in a thick rebosa and eared liltle for the dampness. Tlic
streets were almost descried, as ii was the hour in Hie afiernoon when
more or less of Hie population indulged in the national sie>ta. She
looked in at the church as she passed, to see if Father Ignacio was
wiihiii, l>ut the gloomy old pile was dark and vacan'l, without a
ngle relief save 1he liny glimmer of the light, to the right of the
liar, whose constant flame never failed year in and year out. It
as the first time .lose fa had been even in the enclosure of the
thedral for months and ii was with no little surprise that Jose
countered her at the gale as she was coming out.
"Is my uncle al home?" she asked of him.
"Si. senorita," he replied, uncovering.
Jose really feared his master's niece. He thought she must be
sessed, for ihe reason thai she was noi religious, never going to
nfession or mass, or showing any reverence for the things or
adit-ions which he held so sacred and regarded so essential for a
ppv hereafter.
"Is any one with him ?"
"No, senorHa, sola."
"\ot even that stupid Nicolas?"
"\o. senorita, nadie."
She swept by the major domo, who followed her with bis eyes
r a. moment.
"Perhaps she wanfs [^ confess," thought Jose. "No," he con-
nued, "if she bad repented she would not have called Father Nicolas'
me without putting the 'I'alher 1 before it. And then she said 'stupid'
icolas. No, she is not bent on confessing this time."
"Josefa reached the hall just as a boy entered the door, and as
e stood hesitatingly, she asked him what he wanted. The little
el low was poorly clad, and she concluded he must be one of the
niKTs of her charitable uncle. She pulled out a real and handed
to him. telling- him at the same time that the father was engaged
and could not see him.
"You must come another lime/' she said to him.
"Pint ! am to leave n MOJO here."
- \\ note! Let me have it and I will give it to Father Iguacio."
lie dre\\ a note from under his blouse and held it towards her.
NCI- face flushed as she read the superscription.
rUY 11 AYMOND.
"Mr. Guy Raymond."
It was in a handwriting she at once recognized. Beatrice Navai
had written it.
"Who gave you this?"
"Una senora. She called me as I was passing and gave me
quartilla to bring it here."
"Well, you have a real and a quartilla and are well paid. Here
are two reals more to keep your tongue. If you should be asked
about this note, say that you left it here."
As Josefa spoke she threw the missive on the bench in the hall,
to demonstrate where he was to say he had left it.
The delighted urchin ran off with his money and the other took
up the note and placed it in her pocket.
The uncle and niece remained long in the sitting room. At least
an hour passed before the latter came out to take her departure. Her
eyes were red as though she had been crying, and her face plainly
indicated vexation and disappointment. She took rapid steps home-
wards and before many minutes was in the privacy of her own room.
So soon as the rebosa was laid aside she drew back the window
curtain to let the light fall upon her face, as it was reflected from
her mirror. The reflection was not satisfactory. With impatience
she repaired to her washstand and laved her eyes in the basin; th(
drying them, again had recource to her glass, where, with the ai(
of powder all traces of her recent emotion were removed. A more
satisfied look settled on her countenance as she sank in a chair by
the window and leaned forward reflectively over the sill. The after-
noon was about to merge into evening and already the bats had left
their crevice , retreats and were flying hither and yon, fluttering by
the grated opening where Josefa sat. The bats, however, were not in
her mind. It was most probably the intercepted note that claimed
her thoughts, for suddenly she thrust a hand in her pocket and drew
it forth. Scrutinizing the address for a moment, she tore it open;
then rising, bent further out towards the clearer light to glean the
contents. An exclamation of disgust escaped her lips as she crumpled
the paper in her hand.
"Written in English !" she said. "And I cannot know a word
its meaning."
GUY RAYMOND. 211
CHAPTER XXX.
A week had passed since Josef a's visit to her uncle, and nothing
of importance -had occurred in military or social circles in the city.
G n y. rather crestfallen from the misadventure which had attended
liis call at the Xavarro's, and dejected still further by unremitting
reflection upon the singular termination of a prospective intercourse
so auspiciously begun, kept rather closely in his quarters at Father
IgnaciVs. He had been once to see Linda, whom he found in her
usual quiet, placid mood, so glaringly in contrast with the coarse
d boisterous manners of her father. Bonito was as gracious a-
r in his rude Avay. He had vivid recollections of his former
isoner's generosity and would not have hesitated to wish for his
ncarceration, since it would mean an increased revenue to his
checquer. The old fellow was never slow to perceive the slightest
inter to a method that might work out a resulting acquisition to
Bonito V possessions. Its insignificance mattered not. Once the peso,
e real or the quartilla slipped Bonito's purse it there remained,
e old jailer had remarked Guy's love for the books which Linda
brought from the monte pio's, and he could not comprehend
w the latter had let slip an opportunity that offered so rare a
nee to exact at least a fair amount for their recovery. He turned
over in his mind at the time and the following night the thought
irly kept him awake. He concluded that the monte pio was cer-
nly ignorant of the value of books, or rather of the value placed
n them by others. He heard Guy say that his family lost other
ks on the same occasion when those recovered had been taken,
w,, by a deductive process of his own, Bonito concluded that the
nte pio might have others of the missing volumes, and would
rt with them on the same terms he had surrendered the two in
.estion. If this should prove the case, a fine field for speculation
would be open to Bonito, who could secure the prized volumes and
then he could dictate terms. He could not sleep after the new-born
thought had attained its fully developed shape as to ultimate results,
da should never know of the scheme. The silly fool would
pose him. She would starve if left to her own resources. Bonito
t his secret and if he visited the monte pio in the interest of
contemplated speculation his daughter was none the wiser. The
ter, however, in l lie round of her domestic occupation, explored
6 dav the deplhs of Bonito's chest where he usually kept his
thes not in immediate demand, besides odds and ends of no
212
GUY RAYMOND.
known value to the owner or any one else. The presence
chest of a book was more than a surprise to the daughter, as she
knew her father was illiterate and the house contained no volumes
outside of the little school collection all her own and the "Camino
del Cielo," which she took to mass on Sundays. A mention to her
father of the discovery of the volume called forth a reprimand for
spying into his affairs.
On the occasion of Guy's call, mentioned at the opening of the
chapter, Bonito's manner was so restless as to call forth remark
from the young- people who, by the old jailer's frequent leaving the
apartment, only to reappear in a few moments either to take a
restless seat or to give a glance into the door, were often left to
themselves.
"What is the matter with your father, Linda," asked Guy, finally.
"Quien sabe, senor," the girl replied languidly and half sighing.
"It looks as if he wants to tell me something and cannot make
up his mind to do it."
"Maybe so."
"Linda, does he treat you well?"
"In his AVMV. Rut, senor, he does try me at times."
"He loves money."
"Better than his soul. Would you believe it, he never confesses."
"That is bad."
"You think so? But Senor Eaymond does not confess."
"But I do not believe in such things. If I did I should go
confession."
"I am sorry for you, senor and for my father."
"And for Josefa? The Senorita de la Torre has no faith."
"Ah, Josefa! Josefa is lost!"
"Has she been here lately?"
"Not since you went home with her."
"No?"
"She came here then only to meet you, senor."
"I can't believe that."
"She told me so."
"She! Interested in me?"
"Curiosity, perhaps. She loves Manuel Ruiz."
"Ruiz !"
"Everybody loves Ruiz," said Guy, half sighing. "Linda, an 1
in Jove \vitli Ruiz, too?"
"I? Not I, senor."
"But the Senorita ^rro and the Senorita de la Torre
GUY RAYMOND. 213
in love with Ruiz, and I thought perhaps the Senorita Linda had
also fallen a victim to his charms."
"Beatrice Navarro! Senor Raymond mistakes. I am certain that
Manuel is no favorite with Beatrice."
"Possibly, for she may be heartless. Rni/, however, loves her."'
''That is very probable, scnor. Beatrice is so beautiful.''
"But so heartless."
"You have discovered it! And so soon?"
"She forced me to perceive it."
'You have been often to (he Navarro's?"
"But twice. Once when I rescued her from the herd and again
day of the Mission fight."
"And in two interviews, senor, you find my friend tube heari
,e you not l)een too impetuous?"
'She gave me no opportunity, Linda," 1 replied (lny, smiling. "I
received by the old gentleman the last time L went to see her,
he politely bowed me out of the house."
"And why?"
nien sabe," answerd (Jny, mimicking the other's manner. "The
lorita Beatrice had not, onlv not infdrmed hei 1 father of my timely
service, but had never hinted at our chance acquaintance. She was
not at home and could not he called ti> explain. Since she had not
thought fit to mention the rescue, I of course left the. house and let
her father remain in ignorance of the accident thai led to our
meeting."
"Something is wrong here," said Linda, half aside. "What you
have related, senor, is so different, from what 1 had to expect from
my friend, thai I am confident, there must have been a mistake whose
explantion will make everything plain."
"It has been to me a serious drama. I wish it could end a
comedy of errors. If Miss Navarro had wished to correct a mistake.
made by her father, she has failed to profit by a week's interval to
accomplish it."
"I could clear this up after a twenty minutes' walk," said Linda,
half rising, as if to go.
"I will not have an arbitration in this matter. T would not have
you go to her as my messenger, after what has happened, for the
whole of Texas.' 5
"What, are vou (wo voung fools crowing about in here?' 1 asked
lionito. poking his head in at the door. "I had something to say
io Senor Raymond, but you, worthies- pigeon, are keeping him
cooing and cooing like another pigeon. A pajarro he is, de veras."
214 GUY EAYMOND.
"What is it, Bonito? Can't Linda hear it?"
"Must a woman know everything? It is not much they can keep
and it is little you can keep from them. You are young, senor, and
have much to learn of women. They are riddles, even after you
think you have learned them by heart."
"You judge them by a hard rule, Bonito/' said Guy, looking at
the girl. But he thought of Beatrice the next instant and mentally
concluded there was some little philosophy in the jailer's remarks.
Taking leave of Linda, Guy joined the other in the hall. The old
fellow shut the door carefully, put his hand softly on Guy's shoulder
and with upturned head gave him a quizzical look from the corners
of his eyes. This tableau was maintained only for a moment, to
give impressiveness to what was probably to follow.
"Has Senor Raymondo the books that Linda brought from the
monte pio's?"
"Yes; at San Fernando."
"Senor likes books?"
"I am fond of reading."
"And would like yet more books?"
"Well, Bonito, you have somthing to say. Out with it."
"Would senor pay something for a nice book?"
"Perhaps I would. It is plain to see now, that you have hatched
up a job to get money out of me, Bonito. Come to the point at once,
you miserly old sinner."
"If it should be one of the books you lost that time when the
Indians
"A truce to your preamble, you skinflint. If you have a
of mine, or any other one, show it and name your price."
"Would three four reals?" said Bonito, hesitating.
"Not a cent, if you keep this up a minute longer," said
determinedly.
Bonito took a step or two to a lounge against the opposite
and turning back the blanket which served as a spread, drew forth
a book and held it up.
"This must be worth four reals, senor. I had trouble and
money to pay, besides, before I could get it."
Guy took the volume and recognized it as "Wealth of Nations,"
from his father's library, lie put his hand in his pocket and drew
out the four reals, which he handed to I he jailer. While taking it,
Bonito looked the picture of disappointment and self-reproach, lie
turned over the piece of money and glanced from it to Guy, who
was thoughtfully regarding the recovered treasure.
GUY RAYMOND. 215
"It was worth more, or he would not have paid to readily/'
Bonito reflected.
"Senor, did I not say five reals or six? I can't remember
which amount I said; my head is so befuddled. But the book is
worth a deal. It must be; for it is larger than the two that Linda
brought, if both were put together. What; was it I said, senor six,
or seven reals? A poor amount for such a book."
"Bonita, where did you find this?"
"Xo mailer, senor, since you have it. But seven reals is cheap-
or eight is nothing for such a book."
"Where will you end presently? It is your old game renewed.
To punish you for your greed for reals, I shall not pay you a cent
more than that piece of money. I know you well enough to be
sure that you saved yourself in your first demand."
"Santa Maria! Your ears are sealed with wax, or worse has
happened to your hearing. By all the saints, it was six I said at
first, but contended last for eight. Senor, liberty has made you a
miser. As a prisoner you were over generous."
"Nature made you a miser, and practicing the arts of one has
developed you into a rogue. I would not begrudge you a full peso
for tli is book, which has doubtless cost you nothing; but I wish to
cure you of your penchant for lying. You first asked but three reals.
For shame! When you have bags of money hid away!"
u Valga-me-dios ! Que mentira . ! Por dios, senior! It is little
nioi ey that I have. Bags ! A glove would bold more than I possess."
\VIieti his visitor had left, Bonito abused himself unmercifully for
not having been shrewd enough to secure more than the trifle of
four reals.
"But the monte pio has more," he muttered. "He half suspected
that, I wanted it for a purpose and not for waste-paper. Que mala
fort u rial I missed four reals at least. A boy would have managed
bettor. Manoel Canastadomiento fifty years of life have but made
you a fool. From now on I am willing to be called 'Bonito the Ass' !"
The addition to his stock of reading, made by the possession of
Adam Smith V great work, furnished Guy with mental occupation
while indoors. Father Ignacio had placed several volumes of Spanish
theological works at his disposal^ but, beyond the desire to improve
himself in. Spanish instruction, he had little taste for that kind of
literal iirc. lie produced his Wealth of Nations to give Father
Ignacio an insight as to its drift, but discovered that his host had
procured a Spanish translation. This proved a source of gratification
216 GUY RAYMOND.
In (JtiY, for lie found diversion, in discussing with the priest the
theories advanced by the noted Scotchman.
The very day that (Juv was discussing with Linda the discour-
aging termination of his intercourse with the Navarros, the young
lady ol' that family was conversing with her sister, the Senora A ,
on the identical subject 1 that, engaged the attention of the pair at
the caivel Beatrice had not. been herself for over a week. Her
changed manner and repeated abstractions were noticed bv the sister,
who readily guessed the cause, nit hough she refrained from any
allusion that might post the other of her divination. On the day
in question, however, the two had been sitting together for some
time in the same apartment where they were first found at home by
the reader, without, having exchanged a word. The elder sister broke
the silence.
"Bat rice, did you not write that note to Senor Raymond?"
"I did."
"Has he replied?"
"No/ 3
"What do you suppose can be the reason?"
"Tn<> deeply offended, perhaps, at father's cool reception."
"Did you explain clearly that father had not been informed of
his service to you?"
"I did."
"Nor even of his acquaintance with you?"
"Oli, Jane! I told him everything," said Beatrice, petulantly.
"If he is so deeply offended that he can't get over it, why let him
remain so."
"Then why take it to heart, if you can so easily discard the matter
and the man?"
"Can't you say something that will not be a question?"
"My anxiety must be my excuse, sister mine. You have been
blue ever since father informed us of Senor Raymond's cool dis-
missal."
'That everlasting Mexican custom of having to know every man
first, through an introduction by the parents, has proved, in this
cas<-. bow stupid it is. In Baltimore, if a man is a gentleman, he
may call on a lady without having to cut a ridiculous figure in
approaches and manuevres, or be fro/e out by excruciating polif.cn
"You remember what a time the Doctor had getting acquaint
with me?"
Grin: RAYMOND. 217
"What music is that?"
"Look, Beatrice and see."
The latter went to a front window and looked out into the street.
".lane, it is the picadores. Two riding in front, and behind are
the ohulos playing. I wonder where they can come from, and the
Tex a us around the town. Is it not pretty music ?"
Jane had joined her at the window.
The music came from a curiously dressed procession of eight
persons. Two, mounted on prancing ponies, were dressed in the
fanciest toggery, consisting of blue vestments, glittering with numer-
ous spangles on breasts and arms. Scarlet breeches, ending at the
knees, buckled over striped stockings, while their cranium s were sur-
mounted by close-fitting skull caps, from which depended tails of
sonic ivd material, ending in tassels. Underneath their right foiv-
inns each held a long lance in rest, from whose silver spearhead
fluttered a miniature silken flag displaying the colors of Mexico.
The six followers wen 1 habited a la zouave, four of them playing on
insi nimonls that produced the sweetest music. The remaining 'two
brought up (he rear, bearing crimson banners and armed with swords.
They passed on up the street, turning the corner in the direction
of Main I'laza. The horsemen were picadores, or bull fighters.- The
"chulos" were assistants, who take certain parts in the fight to attract
ihe I nil's attention with their red flags, or they torment him by using
barbed darts or explosives. They are sometimes called "banderil-
leros." The matador is the one who finishes the animal by a coii/)
(I i' <]race. These strollers become well known to the towns and cities
of Mexico, to which they make annual visits, their stay in a place
being determined by the ability and inclination of its population
in make their performances remunerative. From Beatrice's remark,
these must have been new arrivals in Bexar. The attraction in the
street haying subsided, the ladies returned to their seats and occu-
pations, the married one to her fancy work, the single one to her
reverie.
The latter, after ; i long silence, during which a myriad of thoughts
had coursed through her mind, turned to the other and said pas-
sionately :
"Jane, I have a presentiment that. Josef a has something to do
\\ith.his not replying to my note. Presentiments rarely have deceived
me. If she has tricked me in this instance, I will find it out."
218 GUY EAYMOND.
CHAPTER XXXI.
Eight or ten days' time that had passed since the battle at Con-
ception, produced noted changes in the Texan position as well as in
their forces and the character of their operations. The little
army had become reduced in numbers very perceptibly by the
leaving of many who were disappointed and disgusted because
an anticipated assault had settled down into a seemingly hopeless
siege. The force had been divided into two camps, one above and
the other below the town, and each had its scouting ground allotted
to it, to prevent surprise and to bar the ingress of reinforcements as
well as the egress of the besieged, in quest of supplies. The uj per
camp was at an old mill a mile or so from the plaza; the lower one
near the mission at the scene of the recent engagment. Patrols kept
vigil, night and day, to detect any movements of the enemy, while
an occasional show of force within rifle shot of the fortifications w r as
made to draw them from their cover. The cautious Mexicans, how-
ever, had too recently tested the spirit of their foe to venture without
the lines, and kept behind the friendly walls, well satisfied to await
the ever-impending attack.
Austin had thrown up the command and had left the field for
the diplomatic arena, where his talents could be freely utilized for
the benefit of the embryo nation, whose star, just struggling on the
horizon, was soon to rise through bloody mists and lurid clouds of
treachery and massacre, until it should attain the blue vault in the
system of nations, glowing and brilliant amid a halo of victory.
Burleson succeeded to the command.
It was the third night after the battle. Blustering winds blew
hither and yon; the ragged, low-flying clouds that appeared to touch
the mission's tower, dimly outlined against their lighter shade or
obscured by their darker shadows . The night had grown wilder in
the short hour since the twilight had merged into its deeper gloom,
and the increasing winds, true to no point of compass, sighed through
the openings and whistled around the corners of its massive walls.
Far across the opening where its western side was fringed with
timber, a number of fires throwing their lights among the foliage
marked the new camp where lay Bowie's detachment, composing the
force that invested the lower side of the city.
A solitary figure, scarcely discernible in the obscurity, paced uj
and down before the great door giving entrance to the church.
GUY RAYMOND. 21'J
rifle resting carelessly upon his shoulder, a powder horn swung by
his side would, in a better light, have shown him to be a sentinel
of the Texan army. He made a few more strides upon his beat,
then, turning suddenly to the door, he rested his gun against the
side, and seated himself upon the sill.
"I'll be d d if I walk here any longer. There is no sense
anyway keeping watch here."
The speaker said this in a grumbling tone, then making himself
comfortable, he gave a yawn and lowered his head over on his knees.
"Come, Perry, you are wrong-, boy. Here's the mission. It is
so dark I did not discern the grand old pile. The house that con-
tains our invilad is over here."
"I believe you are right, Mr. Hamilton."
The voices were distinctly heard by the sentinel, who, remaining
perfectly still, peered through the darkness and, without catching
a certain glimpse of their figures, heard the footfalls of the speakers.
"What the devil are they going to see old Trigg for?" he mut-
tered, as taking his gun he rose and went to the corner of the build-
ing to listen. The parties attracting his attention had made for the
rear of the mission, and he could hear their voices in the distance.
"I'll follow them and see what's up. Old Trigg and Hamilton
have no use for me since I boxed that boy. It must be a full hour
before the relief, and I will have time to get back on post."
So saying, the recreant followed the direction taken by the speakers.
He gained the rear of the wing that joined the structure just in
time to see the fresada raised that hung within Locaria's door and
the parties enter. Moving now more cautiously along, he made a
slight detour to the right and approached the jacal from the further
side. He gained the wall and, crouching down, put his ear to one
of several small crevices and heard quite distinctly a conversation
carried on within.
Inside the jacal a tallow candle was burning on a small shelf
projecting from the wall. The light afforded by its tiny flame was
in the brighter glow proceeding from the hearth in the end of
the apartment. Mr. Trigg was lying on the bed where Father
Ignacio had communed with him in pantomime. Perry and Ham-
iltf ,-n were sitting near him, while little Locaria stood in an opposite
corner, looking in admiration at the handsome American with raven
lock- and fancy boots.
"It's glad I am to see you both looking so fine," said Mr. Trigg,
after the two had greeted him and established themselves in seats.
"I am happy to be able to return the compliment," said Hamilton.
220 Guv KAY MOM).
nd myself
"You are not looking worse for your wound. Perry and myse
would liavo been over yesterday if we had not been on a scout
north of town."
"We came just as soon as we get your message/' said Perry.
"I'm satisfied you did, my boy. I wanted to see you and Mr.
Hamilton for to take you into a secret that it wouldn't do to have
die with me."
"Die with you ! Why, just now you said that two or three days
would see you up and about/' said Hamilton.
"Oh! Wait a bit. You haven't a clear idea of my meaning.
Tt is not of this wound I'm thinking that will be killing me. Some
other bullet may have a surer aim, Mr. Hamilton,, and then it will
be too late. It is against the danger of not being able to say what I
wihli to say at all, that I want to guard. In two or three days I
shall be as well as ever of this, so far as moving about is concerned."
"That puts the whole situation decidedly in a more optimistic
light, Mr. Trigg. We miss you sadly in the mess and I rejoice to
think that in so short a time you will be with us again. So far as
making me and my amiable young friend, Perry, here the depositories
of your secret as a precaution against those emergencies brought
about by the vicissitudes of war, I assure you we are at your service
and are anxious to hear what you have to impart; not from an
morbid curiosity, but from a sincere desire to serve you. What
you, Perry?"
"Mr. Trigg knows he can rely on me."
"Laconic, truly laconic, my boy," said Hamilton, slapping Per
on the shoulder, "but your words contain a world of meaning and
a volume of eloquence might be deduced from them in a tribute
friendship and confidence."
"Yon should have been a stump speaker, Mr. Hamilton. Y
an- so ready with words, and can say so much about nothing. Y
could make a fortune in Mississippi."
"I have come to Texas to make one. If this war terminates
favorable to us, my voice may be heard in the councils of a young
luiiinii. In the American revolution were men who afterwards be-
came nearly deified, but who really were commonplace and without
any brilliant traits to justify the characters they have been credited
with by postcriiy. Tim sums* of the struggle shed such a halo
of -lory on the army and public men that it concealed every fault
and magnified every virtue. There is nothing which succeeds like
success, Mr. Trigg."
your pardon for interrupting you it is sure I a
GUY RAYMOND. 221
that you're right; but let me talk about what I had a mind to tell
you, and after I am up we can talk about all them things over the
camp fire. Perry, did you bring the wallet?"
"Here it is, sir."
Perry drew from his breast and handed him a leather pouch, not
dissimilar to the kind usually carried on stage coaches for way mail.
Mr. Trigg unwound a buckskin string from the wallet and opening
it, looked among its contents until he found what he wanted.
"Here is what I was looking for," he said, holding up a stained
paper tied with a piece of faded red tape.
"That is the secret that you
"Please be quiet a bit, Mr. Hamilton, and you'll know about it,
and the less you and Perry say, the sooner you will be after know-
ing it."
"Leave out the boy, Mr. Trigg. Fll try to keep quiet. So
proceed."
"Thank ye sir. But first I want you to promise that what ]
will be after saying to you will not be repeated; that you are to do
no more than to think about it and that you solemnly promise me
never to take advantage of the knowledge of it, without I am killed
before we take the town above. Do you promise this, Mr. Hamilton?"
"I do," replied Hamilton, biting his lips to suppress a flow of
What say you, Perry?"
"I promise to do as you wish."
"I am beating you on laconics, Perry, but it costs an effort."
"I took a liking to you, Mr. Hamilton, since I got to know you
well, for at first you talked so much and used words so uncommon
that I was almost forninst you. But I have seen you in much, that
tries men, for honesty and fairness, and I soon saw you was all
right. You seem to have to boil over like a brimming kettle onco in
a while, so full you are of words and information. What I have
to tell you and Perry will open up a bit of my past life. It's a
little ashamed I am of it, now; but that is all bygones, and with the
help of the saints I'll try to do only good in time to come. When
quite a lad I came to New Orleans on a clipper that sailed from
New York, working my passage, for I had a sailor experience in the
coasting trade in the old country. I had little money, and being a
stranger in the city I knocked around for a month or so, doing odd
jobs, and had a berth at a sailor's roost on the levee. After a bit
I foil in with a good-looking man who came around the roost more
than a dozen times, and who used to visit the shipping and talk
15-r
222 GUY RAYMOND.
with the idle sailors on the wharves. I was a bright and active chap
then and the man took a fancy to me. One day he told me he was
the captain of a fine vesel that lay in the gulf, and asked me how
I would like to ship with him. I didn't give him an answer at once.
Before I made up my mind I was after finding out his ship to be a
privateer, and that he was cruising against Spanish commerce. This
much he told me from his own lips as a secret. To cut my story
short, I agreed to ship with him, as he said the prize money would
pay fine, and that took my eye. The day came for us to leave the
city and I shall never forget the bayous and the crooked ways we
took to reach the ship. To cut short again, I found myself, at the
end of forty-eight hours, on Barrataria Island an enlisted sailor
under the banner of Lafitte, the pirate of the Gulf."
"Lafitte! Jean Pierre Anatole Lafitte, the pi !"
"Please dont ? bile over now, Mr. Hamilton. You see Perry is
listening and not saying a word."
"Excuse me, Mr. Trigg I
"You are excused, sir, without the asking. I am not going to
tell you about Lafitte, or what I saw or did under him in the six
years I followed his fortunes. I just wished ye to know how I came
to get into such company, for getting with such is how 1 camfc to have
the secret that you and Perry are to know.
Outside of the house a noise, as of some falling article, startled
;hose within. A silence followed, which was ended by Mr. Trigg
suggesting that the others go out to ascertain the cause. The little
Mexican woman, who had been quiet in the corner, said to Perry
in Spanish that the noise was similar to that which would be made
by the falling of a gun. The latter and Hamilton went out, and,
after some minutes, returned reporting that nothing could be seen
to explain the noise which had interrupted them. When the two
had re-entered the jacal, the figure of the listener emerged from
the shadow of a. tree and crept back to the rear wall of Locaria's
abode. As he did so he muttered:
"That d d gun like to have betrayed me. It won't do so
again. One of Lafitte's men! What can that secret be? He is a
fine specimen to be preaching virtue and fairness, and training up
that young angel, Perry. A pirate! Ha! Ha!"
Ducio settled himself down and placed his ear close to a crevice
indicated by a ray of light issuing from the room.
"Among the crew of the ship, which was a fore and aft Spanish
brig and a fine sailer, was a Portugese gunner who became my friend.
As he was a favorite of the commander, I had a very nice time at
GUY RAYMOND. 22:3
the start, learning the ways of the men and the duties to be per-
formed. This man served with me off and on fpr the six years; for
sometimes it would happen, in the changing fortunes of Lafitte, that
ships would he lost or abandoned and crews separated to serve apart
until we joined each other again in port. My friendship with
the old gunner, for he was a purty old man, Mr. Hamilton, con-
tinued without interruption. 1 was a lad that always respected
authority and never had a cross word. The crews of Lafitte's vessels
made lots of money while at Barrataria ; but it was the second year
after I shipped that the navy made us leave Uncle Sam's coast, and
after we went to Galveston for a rendezvous, the men were always
discontented about the prize money. They were extravagant devils
and saved nothing, as a rule. A few buried their treasure or other-
wise put it by for worse times. After being forced away from Barra-
taria there was more of a watch kept upon Lafitte's rovers, and he
and his chief men began to see that not many months more would
he left to the business they was in. This made them more anxious
to save their swag, and to be stingy in paying it over to the sailors.
The old gunner was lacking just a little of being a miser. He always
got- a liberal allowance from Lafitte, for he was as good with a cannon
as a marksman with a rifle. I have seen him in a rough sea, that
would hardly leave legs on the oldest seamen, fire on the rise and
ctH, ;iw;iy the mainmast of a cha.se. This made him a favorite, while
the common men thought he was a kind of supernatural. They
would not have grumbled if he had got half the prize money, after
doing one of his feats with his gun."
"Can't you tell us of one of those chases, Mr. Trigg; it would
be inter
"I asked ye to be quiet, Mr. Hamilton. What I am telling ye
is to prepare for the secret, and sure it's enough to have one thing
in view at a time. What I am trying to tell ye is business, and the
shortest way to it is the best way. Eemember, it's under your solemn
promise I'm letting you know these things. It's not to be breathed."
"I'll try not to forget again, sir."
"The gunner saved his money, as I was very sure of; but it was
not until long after Lafitte had broken up that I found it out from
his own lips in New Orleans. The old fellow got to be a perfect
miser, and lived by himself in the humblest way, in a little bit of
a ereole house near the French market. I was some time in the city
before I found his whereabouts, but after I dropped in to see him
on" and on for a year or so, when one day I found him very sick.
The next day the old woman he rented from sent her boy to hunt me.
224 GUY BAYMOND.
When I got there my friend was speechless, but sensible. He made
known by signs that he thought he was about to die, making me
understand as well as he could, poor man, that he wanted me to
attend to some business. I took a key from beneath his pillow and
unlocked the chest that was near, in full sight of him. It held his
clothes, some money in Spanish doubloons, and a packet of papers.
The poor fellow made me understand that he wanted to leave me
what he had in the house, likewise the papers on which he seemed to
set great store. I got his landlady to care for him while I went for
a doctor; but he died that night without a pain. The old gunner
had worn out."
Mr. Trigg here paused for a while. The two listeners inside had
paid the closest attention as the narrative progressed. Locaria, not
comprehending a word, sat indifferent and motionless, save when she
gave the fire a poke, or mechanically turned her head without any
apparent purpose. The listener outside impatiently muttered:
"Why don't the old devil go on? It will soon be time for the
relief."
"This paper," continued Mr. Trigg, "was among those in the
package. There was also a will, leaving all he had to me. No doubt
this piece of paper is worth a great deal. The old man went to Mexico
after the break-up at Galveston. From Mexico he went to Orleans,
passing through the very town we are now trying to take. He
stopped in San Antonio with a countryman of his, and left with him
some valuable papers that, if I had them, would tell me where a
great portion of his treasure is now buried. A lawyer in Orleans
thought that it was hid up here; but I know it is on the island."
"Galveston island?" interrupted Perry.
"Galveston island," answered Mr. Trigg.
"Perry, you interrupted that time."
"But he was laconic," said Mr. Trigg, smiling.
"This paper," continued the narrator, "gives the name of the
in San Antonio who has the documents that will show the bearings.
I could never remember the name. Bring the light, Mr. Hamilton,
and let us see if we can make it out."
Hamilton brought the tallow dip from its shelf and Mr. Trigg,
rising on his elbow, opened the paper. Hamilton, advancing the
light, stooped to scrutinize the name, while Perry tiptoed and peered
over his shoulder. Hamilton, after spelling it through, slowly pro-
nounced, syllable by syllable, the name indicated by Mr. Trigg's
linger :
"Man-o-el Can-as-ta-do-mi-en-to."
jneans
id.
le man
GUY RAYMOND. 225
"All three pronounced the formidable name.
The listener outside made a mental memorandum of the ten
liquid syllables.
"This paper," continued Mr. Trigg, "will be on my body if I
be killed, before I can see the man with this long name. My will
is here with it, and if such a mischance should happen to me, you
or Perry, or both will be my executors. What I have got, and this
treasure, if it ever be found, will belong to Guy Raymond, and to
Stella, his sister. The othr paper is, I am thinking, of service to
find what the poor old gunner buried, and is no doubt in the posses-
sion of this Manoel What-ye-May-Call-It, who is in the town beyond."
"There were sounds of footsteps outside," said Locaria, in Spanish.
Perry interpreted her words.
They all listened.
The eavesdropper had heard the approach of the relief and has-
tened to his post.
CHAPTER XXXII.
iy the ghost of Lord Dalrymple ! I am glad to see you about
again, Mr. Trigg."
"I'm blowed ef I ain't proud to see the old gent."
"Welcome, Mr. Trigg."
Such were the salutations from Jones, Nathan Roach and Karnes,
as their convalescent messmate walked up to where preparations were
being made for the evening meal, Jones acting as chief cook. Hamil-
ton and Perry came with him, having gone to Locaria's jacal for the
purpose of accompanying him to the camp.
"He would have been back before this, if Perry and myself had
not objected to his leaving a roof too soon," said Hamilton.
"When did you and Mr. Karnes get back, Mr. Roach?" asked
Perry.
"About half an hour. We tuck some Greasers and brought 'em in."
J"Are they from town?" asked Hamilton.
"No. They was making for town and we naturally swooped 'em
in. The head feller says he's a bull-fighter. That Mexican, Ruiz,
w;is out. with us and he kinder scraped up kin with him. There
they come now, and Ruiz with 'em."
As Nathan ceased speaking, Ruiz was seen approaching with five
oihcr mounted Mexicans, one of them leading a pack mule.
They halted near the mess fire, and by direction of Ruiz, the
strangers dismounted.
226 GUY BAYMOND.
"The colonel says he has no objection to these men passing into
town, Mr. Karnes. So with your permission, they will rest here
tonight, and tomorrow I will go in with them/'
"You!" said Karnes. "Old Cos would have your head on a pole
before tomorrow night."
"In that case, my time will have come. But, seriously, I
going; but pretty well disguised. Gentlemen, let me introduce
you my cousin, Senor Trevino. He cannot speak English, but he
knows how to fight bulls, and that is his business."
The mess saluted Senor Trevino.
"How can you disguise yourself, Buiz?" asked Hamilton, "when
you are so well known in town?"
"Easy enough. A razor will remove this beard, and a costume
in that pack will transform me into a bull fighter."
"Your awkwardness may betray you."
"My cousin there cannot beat me sticking to a horse; and then
I need not go too actively to performing in my new calling."
After the mess had partaken of supper, Senor Trevino caused
his four attendants to produce their instruments, consisting of harp,
clarionette, violin and flute, and to play for the entertainment of
their captors and hosts. The music rendered was beautiful and as
the sweet strains filled the air they attracted the attention of the
soldiers from other parts of the camp, until quite a crowd gathe
to listen. The youngsters cleared a space around the fire and i
dulged in a regular break-down. This was succeeded by jigs bo
rowed from plantation life. The fun reached its climax when Nathan
sprang into the arena and began a series of gyrations that woul
have shamed a whirling dervish. He cut a pigeon wing as he
nounced it to be, and shuffled from side to side, while his awkw
lank anatomy assumed divers contortions, culminating in a spring
in the air and an Indian warwhoop that would have done credit to a
Lipan. The diversions had lasted some time, when, to the surprise
of the crowd, two fancifully-habited men appeared and occupied
bpace now, vacated by Nathan. One said, in broken English:
"Gentlemen, this in Senor Trevoni, the celebrated juggler a
bull-fighter. He has been so well treated by the soldiers of t
camp that he proposes to give you an exhibition of his powers as
juggler. Tomorrow he will go into San Antonio, where he wil
remain until you take the town, when he will show you how he c
conquer a bull."
The soldiers gave a cheer at the mention of the capture of S
Antonio.
Duld
ard,
GUY RAYMOND. 227
"Who is that fellow who introduced him?" inquired Jones.
"One of his men. There were five/' replied Hamilton.
"He makes six/' said Karnes. "Call Ruiz, he probably knows."
Ruiz could not be found. Meantime, Trevoni had a cloth spread
upon the ground and one of his men produced swords, daggers, balls
and other articles with which he was to exhibit his skill. His per-
formances were really marvellous. It was no effort for him to keep
four sharp daggers whirling around and above him without letting
one drop to the ground, and finally making two of them disappear,
apparently down his throat, while he caught the other two. The
performer amused them for an hour by his feats, when he bowed
himself away, and his pleased audience dispersed.
The person who had introduced the performer stood looking on
all the time with folded arms. When the crowd had retired, he
went close to Karnes, and said in his natural tone of voice:
"Karnes, don't you recognize me?"
"What! Ruiz!"
"Yes; pretty well disguised, eh?"
"Your mother would not know you, with your beard off and in
that toggery. But how could you make such a change in so short a
time?"
"We went up to Locaria's and Trevino took off my beard in five
minutes and furnished this costume."
"You can go into town now, if you will keep your voice changed."
"And Fm going."
The next day the sun was high up when the Mexican party,
with Ruiz added to their number, rode out of the Texan camp,
dressed in their costumes. Ruiz and Trevino were the most con-
spicuously dressed, and carried long lances with polished steel spear-
heads. The four others were in fancy attire, and carried their instru-
ments. The troops gave them a parting cheer as the cavalcade passed
out by the San Jose road leading to the river.
Leaving Ruiz with the bull-fighters to proceed on their destination,
let us turn to other incidents of the camp before we follow him to
see what adventures will befall his incognito appearance among his
enemies.
After Ducio Halfen had become possessed of Mr. Trigg's secret,
his mind gave him no rest for thinking of the buried treasure that
lay somewhere waiting only the turning of a little earth to disclose
its presence to the fortunate one who should first reach the still
doubtfully located spot. He no longer messed with the men with
whom his first introduction to the reader found him. His surly
22S GUY BAYMOND.
disposition had made him unbearable as a companion, and his dis-
agreeable conduct had culminated in his unwarranted attack on
Perry. That he was mean and treacherous has been abundantly
shown by his acts, the last and most despicable of which was the
desertion of his post and his eavesdropping in the rear of Locaria's
jacal. He as fully possessed Mr. Trigg's secret as either of the other
two to whom the old Irishman had detailed it for a purpose. Its
possession had helped the more fully to develop the innate fiendish-
ness that controlled his nature and prompted his acts. He thought
and dreamed of the treasure. His imagination took in the possible
career of the gulf pirates and he reveled in thoughts of the chases
and the captures of rich prizes; the division of plunder, and the
secreting of pots filled, to the brim with Spanish gold. He repeated
the long name he had heard pronounced, going over its many syllables
from time to time, until he reached the camp and a light, where he
could write it in memorandum. Concocting a plan of action was
the duty of the succeeding days, during which he was reticent and
passed every possible moment alone. If he finally matured anything
from the diabolical ramifications of his evil mind remains to be
developed by subsequent acts.
It was late in the afternoon of the day that the picadores left
the camp, that Captain Bowie, while returning from an observation
of the enemy's lines from the battlements of the mission, found
Ducio waiting for him in the path leading to his headquarters. The
Creole accosted him :
"Captain, I would like to say a word to you/'
"Well, sir."
"I want to go into San Antonio."
"That's the wish of the whole army."
"But it is a matter of business with me."
"Something on your own private account?"
"Some news I have heard, that affects me privately makes
necessary for me to go th&re."
"Have you been communicating with town?"
"It is nothing I have heard from town. It is purely my private
business, or I would tell you. I thought it best to make you
acquainted with my intentions, and get permission to pass from you?
lines into those of the enemy. Besides, I might make my presence
there of service to you."
"As a spy?"
"Well yes as a spy."
"I am aware, Mr. Half en, that you are not enlisted, and have
GUY RAYMOND. 229
only done duty thus far voluntarily. But I feel as if you and Mr.
Hamilton, who has been serving the same way, through the courtesy
of the officers, are as much soldiers as the rest, and as bound to obey
orders as any. Yet, if you now say you wish to leave the command
I shall not object. It seems to me to be of doubtful propriety to
allow you to enter the enemy's lines unless it be in the service of
Texas."
"The fact of my coming for permission proves I wished to do
right/'
"That is plausable. But are you not afraid the Mexicans will
suspect you and take your scalp?"
"No, for I have not belonged to the army, and can pass myself
off for a Frenchman. I speak the language, and have papers from
the French consul in New Orleans."
"But you are a native of Louisiana."
"True. The papers I brought through prudence. The French
consul is a relation of my father."
"When do you wish to go?"
"Before tomorrow morning."
"Come to my camp in an hour. Perhaps I may have a com-
mission for you besides the permit you wish."
Ducio's face assumed a satisfied expression a*s he left the officer
and took himself to his camp to make ready for a. trip. His quarters
were soon reached and without making any unnecessary demonstra-
tion he began to prepare for his move, with or without the consent
of the military authorities. His blankets were snugly rolled and
strapped and the little odds and ends, besides his clothing, were
stowed in a pair of capacious saddle bags. His whole kit put in
order, he placed it suspended from a limb of a tree convenient for
his reach, when occasion should come for him to take it unperceived.
To questions from messmates, who saw his movements, he explained
that Captain Bowie had some night work for a squad, which he was
to accompany.
"You are a kind of favorite with Bowie," said one.
"And not regular mustered, neither," said another.
"Him and Hamilton are too fancy fixed for soldiers," said the
first.
"But they's fell out. What was it about, Half en?"
"Nothing much," said Ducio, indifferently, wishing to humor
them. "I slapped over a saucy boy, and he took it it up. I may
]i;u< been in the wrong.'
Before night closed Ducio had visited headquarters and came
230 GUY EAYMOND.
away with the consent of the commander, after a lengthy interview,
to which two other officers were admitted. His steps were directed
a glade that nestled in a curve of the* river below the camp, wh
were grazing several horses secured to stakes. One of these he a
proached, and unfastening the, rope coiled it up in his hand, secu
it with a loop and led the animal to the rear of the position occupied
by his mess. Darkness had now set in. The forms of men and
objects of camp furniture could be seen here and there in the
vicinity of the camp fires. Notwithstanding the sanction of the
commander, the conscience of Ducio was guilty and his stealthy,
cat-like movements were clearly indicative of the illegitimate purpose
impelling him to proceed upon the errand he had conceived. He
did not bring his horse more closely for fear of observation, and he
succeeded in fully caparisoning him ready for departure without
having attracted the attention of anyone. This done, Ducio boldly
stalked into camp, joining his party as they were dividing up the
supper.
"Hello, pard ! Thought you was goin' to sup at headquarters,"
said one.
"They did not have politeness enough to ask me."
When his mess had concluded their meal Ducio was restless until
he made up his mind to leave. He told the men he had to go back
to see Captain Bowie and left in a direction proper to carry out
such a purpose ; but when out of sight he made a detour that brought
him to his waiting horse. Thoroughly testing his girth, and feeling
that all was right, Ducio mounted and rode away in the direction
the rear of the mission.
About the time that Ducio Halfen was taking leave of Captain
Bowie, the camp fire of our mess was blazing brightly. The men
had eaten supper. Jones, whose turn it was to cook, had cleaned
up the mess things and the party were comfortably disposed arou
in different positions, engaged in conversation.
Mr. Trigg had evidently let drop a hint that he had followed the
sea in company with the noted rover of the gulf, for Jones was j
saying that he would never have taken a man of his modest ap
ance to have been a pirate.
"No telling what you did in Idnia, Jones," said Hamilton.
"Mr. Trigg could no doubt tell some interesting sea yarns," s
Karnes.
"Specially ef he was with old Lerfitte," said Nathan.
"Hamilton wouldn't believe a word of it," suggested Jones.
"But Mr. Trigg would not soar into the impossible; for instan
GUY RAYMOND. 231
he would never try to impose upon us anything like your elephant
story/ 5 retorted Hamilton.
"I advise him to not regale you with anything the least si range.
You. who have never been a hundred miles from home won't admit the
truth of any adventure, above a 'possum hunt or the pursuit of a
runaway darky."
k *\ow, Jones! We are not going to be cheated out of a yarn
from Mr. Trigg, just because we won't let you impose your East
Indian stories upon our credulity."
"Or Rimple's rule. We never knowed what that was/' put in
Nathan.
"\\V11, my lads/' interrupted Mr. Trigg. "If you will stop your
cross-firing, I will tell you a short yarn. I am not over strong and
I won't sit up late. 1 have to sleep in the house for a night or so,
tin d by then I will likely be myself again. One morning it was the
month of October I had been in the service at Barrataria about a
twelve-month. The boys was laying 'round loose., and we was all
getting ii little tired of about six weeks idleness, while the old man
was in Orleans. We saw his gig coming down from the mainland
where a bayou emptied ihat connects, through other bayous, with
thn river. We saw him a-coraing, and as the wind was fresh and
quartering, his, little boat was making good headway. I remember
so ue of 'em said that the haste he was making might mean some
business for the crews. But it was the wish that was father to the
th (light; for they was it'climg- for some service. 'The most of us
crowded down to the little pier to see him land and, as he stepped
from the gig, he <miled in a good-natured way at the; welcome we
gave him and shook hands with the last one of us. Some dared to
a>k him if anything was up. but he just smiled. We wasn't long in
suspense, however, for after he had been something like an hour shut
up with the captains of the two schooners we had orders come to
gel: ready for Bca. This did not. take so long, as the vessels had
born provisioned within the week by a schooner from Orleans, and
wo had little more to do than to (ill the casks with water, to b"
ready to weigh anchor and be oil".
''The men never worked with a better will than thai afternoon
aa tin- canvas llutter >d to the broe/e and the run of the capstan soon
brought, aboard and made snug the anchors. Besides the two schoon-
ers that I mentioned, Lafifto himself had his own vessel, a hand-
some brig-rigged ship of narrow build, that carried a. cloud of canvas
when he wanted to put, her to her best. The smaller ships carried
two light guns apiece and were pretty fast themselves, but the brig
233 GUY RAYMOND.
could soon make them hull down, if she felt like it, without spread-
ing a topsail or letting fly a spanker. She had a broadside of two
thirty-two pounders, but her best arm was a pivot gun amidships,
that Lafitte captured from the Spaniards. Well, we stood out in
fine style, the brig a-leadmg, and when we got into blue water orders
were given to the man at the wheel to head for the mouth of the
river. The sun went down red that evening and the wind fresh-
ened so that it looked like a gale would be upon us before midnight.
I was in the second watch and when we turned in it was little sleep
we had for thinking what we- would be after doing in the morning."
"You were aboard the brig?" asked Jones.
"I was. I never left Lafitte's own ship as long as I was with him.
Myself and Antone, the gunner I was telling ye about, who died in
Orleans, was never separated from the old man until we quit for
good. Well, as I was saying, we couldn't sleep much that night,
and the next day we laid off and on, in sight of the shipping at
the mouth of the Mississippi, until night, when the captain signalled
the schooners and brought aboard their commanders. After some
understanding the vessels all stood to the eastward and sailing
abreast, with orders to increase the intervals until about three miles
apart. We continued this course for two days and nights without
sighting a sail. The wind had lightened so that we made hardly
three knots an hour the last twenty-four hours. About three o'clock
the lookout called : 'Sail, Ho !' It proved to be a sail on our star-
board bow. The old man went aloft with his glass, and after a
while he signalled the schooners to stand well to the southeast, while
our ship was brought a point or two closer to the direction of the
stranger. We could see Lafitte's idea at once. He wanted the other
two to keep away out of danger, while we would speak, or look afl
the new sail, and if we must run we had the heels to do it.
wind stiffened and made the brig fairly split the water; but Lafitt
wanted to reach the stranger in good light, and he sent hands aloft
to spread the topgallant sails, while Antone and myself rigged the
spanker. The cloud of canvas kept her steady as if she was in
groove, and it wasn't long before the ship was hull-up. She turn
out to be a three-master under easy sail. Lafitte kept his eye on h
until she couldn't be more than a couple o' miles away, when we
put about and ran at right angles across her bows. His idea was
to circle her and find the kind of a vessel she was. We sailed in
the new direction, making two or three points on her larboard bow,
when we changed to about south-southeast; then after a bit to sout
east, until we had a good view of her broadside.
ILllCJ.
3
tfitte
)ft
he
j
1
GUY RAYMOND. 233
"Lafitte ordered the English colors to be shown.
"After the flag was up a few minutes, the stranger showed the
Stars and Stripes. The old man called Antone and handed him the
glass. Antone took it, and in a breath, declared it to be a vessel of
war. The schooners were hull-down in the southwest, and Lafitte
determined to find out what man o' war it was. The brig was now
about abreast with her, when up went our helm and we came about
in pretty style. It was as fine a movement as was ever made on
salt water. Wh6n our sails filled again, orders came fast; away
sprang our boys and in the time I'm a-telling it we were under half
canvas and making equal speed with the other ship. The vessels
n eared each other as they went, and by the time the sun was near
touching the water, they were not half a mile apart. The men
were growling about fooling" around a man o' war, and wanted to
be off; but Lafitte had a good deal of the daredevil in him and
loved a little danger often when there wasn't a cent in it. There
wasn't a sound on the brig, when finally a hail came over the water:
"'What, ship is that?'
"The answer went back:
" 'His Brittanic Majesty's ship, Dauntless.'
\> this was responded:
don't believe it. Send an officer aboard with proof.'
'Aye, aye, sir/ replied Lafitte, and asked:
'What ship is that?'
'The United States ship, "President." Hurry up your boat.'
'Aye, aye, sir,' we responded.
this time the twilight had faded, and now the only light
left was from the stars, that was out thick enough. The President
showed all her lights while the hailing was passing; but aboard us
all was dark, saving a light in the binnacle. Both ships had luffed,
the President having shortened sail, and soon after the last words
was spoke, the brig had nearly crossed the other's bows. Lafitte
waited for this, and when the time came, one order of his made
every rag of sail fly to its place. Our brig yielded to the helm, and
before the man o' war knew what was up we were showing him our
heels at the rate of fifteen knots. A broadside would have ruined
us at that close quarters, but before they could ware ship with their
clumsy hulk, it would have been accident to hit us with iron. The
balls came, however ,just as quick as they could get 'round, and
twenty guns thundered at us until we got out of reach. Several
shots passed over us, one carrying away the gaff of the spanker.
They sent up at least twenty rockets that showed us to them, very
234 GUY RAYMOND.
likely, but not long enough to make sure work. It was exciting whilst
the thing lasted, and Antone was itching to bring his long pivot
gun to bear, but Lafitte wouldn't hear of it. When the morning
came there wasn't a sign of a
The narrative; was here interrupted by the screams of a woman,
coming from the direction of the mission. Their repetition aroused
the whole party, who were at once on their feet.
"That's from Locaria's," said Hamilton, reaching for his rifle
and bounding off at full speed.
"Let us all go," said Perry, following Hamilton.
The entire mess was soon making haste in the direction of the
mission, although the screams had ceased.
Hamilton, the swiftest, arrived at the jacal only a little before
Nathan Eoach, whose far-reaching stride kept him close behind.
The scene in Locaria's abode indicated the source of the screams
whose utterance had put a termination to Mr. Trigg's yarn. A fire-
light was blazing on the hearth ; a chair overturned near the door,
while across the threshold lay the form of the Mexican girl. Hamilton
raised her and deposited her limp form on a lounge.
"Perry, stir up the fire and let us see what is the matter with
her."
"All right, Mr. Hamilton. Ain't that blood on her cheek?"
"Your are right, boy."
"Who in thunder could a-done it?" asked Nathan.
"Here, Perry, is some dry stuff, but thar's a taller dip. Lig
that."
The candle was lighted. An inspection disclosed a cut on t
side of the head, from which a little blood had trickled down th
girl's cheek. Mr. Trigg was the last one to arrive. He bent ov
his wounded friend, who was breathing heavily, and at once called
for water to throw in her face. The water had the desired effect,
causing the unfortunate to open her eyes and look wildly around at
the faces bending over her. In reply to a shower of questions, she
merely replied in Spanish :
"He hit me with the chair. Oh ! My head ! My head !"
When she finally collected herself she made known to the pa
the cause of the trouble.
A little after dark she suddenly beheld a man standing just inside
her door. She felt no fear, bade him good evening and asked hi
to be seated. The intruder said he had a paper for Mr. Trigg, an
had not come to be seated. She told him Mr. Trigg was in cam
To this he replied that Mr. Trigg had sent him to put the paper i
,
GUY RAYMOND. 235
a leather pouch, along with sonic others kept there, and asked her to
get the pouch, so that he could do as directed. Having no suspicion
that the man was an imposter, she went to the wallet, drew out the
desired article and handed it to him. He look it deliberately to
the fire and stooping down, examined several papers, one of which
he selected and slipped into his pocket. LocariaV sharp eye^ delected
the act. She saw no paper deposited, while she knew one h;id !>ecn
abstracted. By a little inductive reasoning of her own, she con-
cluded the man was an impostor and that she had doubtless proven
a very careless custodian of Mr. Trigg V papers. She hravely charged
him with having taken out a paper, while he had put none in the
pouch. To this the intruder smiled, saying she had misunderstood
his words. Mr. Trigg had sent him for a paper. Bui Locaria WMS
not to be so easily imposed upon a second time. She demanded the
return of the paper. He made no reply, but pitched the pouch on
the bed. She caught hold of his coat and told him I hat he could
not leave with the paper. This seemed only to amuse (he man, for
he caught her around the waist, and chucked her under the chin. He
finally attempted to leave, but she clung- to him and commenced to
scream. He ordered her to hush, hut she screamed the louder. She
remembered that he seized the chair and struck her on the head,
knocking her senseless to the floor.
Mr. Trigg had proceeded to examine the pouch at the first mention
of the man's confessed object in visiting the jacal, and made the
unpleasant discovery that he had lost valuable papers.
After all had left the jacal except Hamilton, Perry and Mr.
Trigg, the latter said :
"Do you guess what papers the fellow took?"
cannot imagine, unless
:t's the will he took, and the other papers I was showing ye."
r ith the name and "
r es, the Portugese and the drawing."
r ho could have known?"
Tone but ye both."
"What service could they be to a stranger?"
"I can't say, Mr. Hamilton, unless we had an eavesdropper that
night."
"Can you suspect anyone?"
can't, sir."
id you, Perry?"
To one, unless it was Ducio."
'rejudice, Perry."
To, sir. Locaria described him pretty well."
236 GUY EAYMOND.
CHAPTEK XXXIII.
When Ducio left Locaria lying insensible from his cruel blow,
he hastened to where his horse was secured, a hundred yards away.
Mounting at once, he rode leisurely down to where the glade, in
which his horse had been lately staked, touched the embankment, and
pTOceeded up its grassy level until he cleared the precincts of the
camp. Putting spurs to his horse he soon reached the ford and
crossed to the right bank. Here he entered the plain road that led
from San Jose to the town, and turned his face toward the latter.
Not many minutes' ride brought him to the Mexican pickets, who
challenged him.
"Qiiien vive?"
He replied in the same language, which he spoke after the dialect
of the Spanish Creoles of Louisiana. He stated that he was a French-
man en route to Bexar, that he was belated and had a certificate
from the French consul.
The sentinel on duty took him in charge and gave him the com-
forting information that he must await the coming of the corporal
of the guard. When at last that worthy arrived, he doubted every
word that Halfen said as to his nationality and purpose in entering
town. Besides, he searched his person and saddlebags and confiscated
what money he could find and took his watch and pistol and among
other things, the papers which had been so recently stolen from Mr.
Trigg. Ducio used every argument and artifice to make him return
the latter and was so very anxious in regard to them that the corporal
felt sure he had captured the evidences of some infernal plot against
the national government or of some deep-laid conspiracy. Ducio
was conducted to town, where he was placed in the carcel, to remain
until the commandante should decide if he were French and innocent,
or a Texan spy, seeking martyrdom.
* * * *
Next to the padre and the monte pio, the piccadore or bull-fighter
takes rank as one of the necessities of Mexican civilization. His com-
ing is heralded with demonstrations of delight and is usually at-
tended by the pomp and circumstance of a parade with music, fancy
regalia and such exhibitions of horsemanship and peculiar dexterity
calculated to elicit manifestations of popular satisfaction. He is oft(
admitted to the very best society, where his claim to the distincti<
of prominence in the category of national benefactors is freely
GUY KAYMOND. 237
corded. To the rabble he is elevated beyond the ordinary plane of
humanity, partaking largely of the supernatural, whence come the
extraordinary powers exerted in the bull pen. The reader had di-
vined that the party which Beatrice saw passing her father's house,
with music playing and clad in fancy costumes, was that of the
toreador with whom Ruiz had left the Texan camp, disguised in
their dress and so transformed in appearance that he had not been
recognized until he had resumed his natural voice. When the torea-
dor's party reached the Mexican lines, they did not suffer the deten-
tion which was in waiting for Ducio, for their avocation constituted
a passport not to be questioned even under the harsh rules and sum-
mary methods of Mexican military law. When the gay party entered
the main plaza, a large per centage of the admiring population were
on hand to greet the welcome arrival. The music was started afresh,
the ponies of the lancers plunged and. pranced, while the riders dis-
played much admirable horsemanship.
Ruiz was a splendid horseman and was equal to the emergency.
He cast a curious look towards the priest's house, as he passed, and
saw Guy standing in the door, taking in the scene in which his
quondam friend was little suspected of being an actor. He ventured
to throw a salute to the young American, but Guy gave no sign that
he considered himself recognized by a toreador, supposed to be fresh
from Monterey. Senor Trevino amused the populace by making a
circuit of the square and announcing in loud tones his purpose to
fight the fiercest bull that could be obtained on the range of Bexar.
"That's a splendid fellow, and rides well. He would make a fine
looking officer. Don't you think so, Sancho?"
"Your brain is always full of fine looks and brass buttons." replied
Sancho. "Perhaps a lively sense of your own failing has created a
morbid longing for what nature denied you."
"Sancho's companion was a sallow, thin-visaged little man with
very prominent features, and was apparaled in the uniform of a
lieutenant of the staff.
"I am not envious, at all events. There is no harm in admiring
others, what we cannot ourselves possess/' replied the lieutenant.
"Forgive me, Pedro. Your reply deserves an apology. There
goes your handsome toreador down Main Street. Shall we follow
with the other pelados?"
"No. For a wonder I have something to do. The general is
thinking of sending Colonel Ugartachea to the Rio Grande for the
expected reinforcements, and 1 have a quantity of writing to do.
16-r
238 GUY RAYMOND.
Letters, you know, to the president and other matters such as reports
and requisitions."
"I see; I see. Well, I give you credit for denying yourself a run
after the toreador, to attend to business."
"I am an officer, Sancho; an officer all over," replied the lieu-
tenant, stiffening himself to as full a height as five feet four would
allow him.
"Yes," said Sancho, surveying him deliberately, "an officer all
over. Buttons and lace from head to foot. It is a pity Mexico did
not have more soldiers and fewer officers."
"Come to headquarters tomorrow morning, say at ten. I may be
able to let you know all about the matter we were speaking of."
"It is well. You may look for me, Pedro."
The little officer moved away with an air that aimed to be mili-
tary and suggest importance. Sancho followed him with his eyes
for a moment.
"The little ass," he muttered, and moved away in the wake of the
shouting populace.
The toreadors had made the length of the street, and were now
returning to the plaza. Sancho leaned lazily against the corner,
commanding a view of their approach. He carelessly scanned their
faces until the last one was about to pass, when the pony the fellow
was riding became frightened, plunged, reared and fell back. The
rider escaped injury by a wonderful agility, and when the animal
recovered his feet, he regained the saddle by a bound. A shout went
up as he surveyed the crowd and waved his hand.
"Por via de mi madre!" exclaimed Sancho. "I know that eye.
Where have I seen that eye before?"
He gazed after the active toreador, musing on the expression of
his eyes as they had mutely boasted of his feat.
Sancho turned up Solidad street, muttering to himself:
"The man who owns that pair of eyes has been intimate with
me some time. But he! He is a toreador. Of course, I am
mistaken."
The next morning Sancho kept his appointment with the little
lieutenant of the staff. Headquarters presented a lively appearance
at the hour of his visit, the front grounds being filled with knots
of officers and soldiers and crossed by arriving and departing orderlies.
Sancho found his friend in the hallway, dismissing a soldier with
instructions, that were imparted with all the importance of manner
that so slight a stature could assume. At the conclusion of this duty
GUY RAYMOND. 239
the lieutenant led the way to the rear office, looking out upon the
river.
"This is a quiet retreat/' observed Sancho.
"It's the general's sanctum/' replied Pedro. "Himself and staff
are the only privileged ones here."
"Then I had better retire."
"By no means. You are my guest."
The two men seated themselves at a low, green-covered table occu-
pying the center of the apartment, and on which evidences of the
character of the office were placed, in the shape of military orders,
reports and letters, while a handsome sword with ornamented belt
lay across one end.
"By the way, Sancho, I want to show you a paper taken from a
fellow last night, who claims to be a Frenchman and who entered
our lines on the Matamoras road. The general thinks it may have
some meaning important to us, and the fellow is from the rebel camp.
What do you think about it?"
Pedro handed his friend the paper taken from Mr. Trigg's pouch
the evening before and which, among other things, the guard had
confiscated when Ducio was made a prisoner. Sancho smoothed the
paper out upon the table and commenced to examine it.
"This is a plan of something," said Sancho. "The ship would
make it appear that this is the outline of a sea coast. The letters
and characters on it appear to be references to an explanation of
the plan."
"What can be that double row of circles?" asked the lieutenant.
"And that mark like an S, that runs nearly through the figure. And
thai straight mark across? It looks like a road. See! Here it
crosses the stream and these are two bridges."
"I believe you are right, amigo," said Sancho. "If so, then there
is no meaning in this paper that portends evil to us/'
The friends scrutinized the documents under examination for
some minutes longer and discussed the probable mission of the alleged
Krone] mi an, from whom it had been taken.
The paper itself, as had been stated by Sancho, had the appear-
ance of containing the outlines of a coast on two sides. The upper
r-o{).--t was bordered by two rows of circular marks running parallel,
nHiunencing on the right, from where an "S" like tracing, that
iniirht have been intended for a bayou, made its exit into a body of
T. The firsi Uiree of the outer row of circles* were marked one,
two and three, in figures. The first two of the inner row were
marked one and two. Across the figures, from coast to coast, ran two
240 GUY RAYMOND.
parallel lines, as of a road, which intersected the S at two points. On
the lower side and below the figures was the rude tracing of a ship
under bare poles. Opposite the ship, and through which ran the
road, were several rectangular figures that might have indicated
houses. Such was about the divination of the problem by the little
lieutenant and his friend, Sancho.
* * * *
"Father, what sort of a prisoner was it, who was brought last
night?"
"Well, if I tell you? You women are over-curious. It was late
enough for you to be asleep; but no, you are awake listening for
prisoners to come, so you can be getting soft-hearted about their not
having beds and so on. Fll tell you nothing."
"You are in a bad humor, father. It was the noise you made
that awoke me. You were very angry and talked loud enough to
awake the soundest sleeper."
"And haven't I enough to make all the saints mad, from' St.
Stephen down? When I peddled oranges in Lisbon I could save
more money in one month than I can now in twelve; and no bother.
A man can run his legs off now and no thanks for it; only blame/'
"You spoke of giving this up."
"Give it up ! Give it up ! Yes, and starve."
"Then there is no danger of starving here? Then let us be
contented until times are better."
"Better! Better! Great chance of getting better. El pajarro
had money, but it was precious little I got. And now this French-
man has been
"A Frenchman?"
"There! I've gone and told you that much. A Frenchman he
is. He tried to get through the lines and of course the soldiers
stripped him of the last cent and I got the leavings."
"Poor fellow! If he has been robbed, he better deserves our
attention."
"Well, instead of prating so much about him, get him a tortilla
and a cup of coffee. That's more than he is able to pay for."
In a few, minutes Linda had prepared food for the prisoners and
her father was shuffling across the court with it, covered by a
napkin. He entered the passage and stopped before the same cell
where Guy Raymond had been confined. He drew forth the pon-
derous key, deliberately placed it in the lock, and shot back the bolts.
As the door swung open, Bonito was greeted by a voice not at
GUY RAYMOND. 241
all indicative o'f that* equanimity that results from contentment with
surroundings.
"You dog of a jailer ! You said you would return last night and
furnish me with something to rest upon, even if it were a little
straw."
"Straw, indeed ! Am I made of straw ?"
"You'd not ask if I had something to tip you with, you old
tub of fat. You cowardly devils will pay for ill treating a subject
of France."
"Ill treating? And here I am with a tortilla and a cup of
steaming coffee for your breakfast."
As Bonito said this,, he pulled aside the napkin, and was surprised
to find that the menu exceeded the bill of fare just announced.
"Por via de mi madre !" he exclaimed. "Ill treatment, indeed !
Here that foolish child of mine has sent you what is doubtless a part
of her own rations. Ill treatment! With this pile of tortillas, two
eggs and a chop, and not a centado do I get for it."
"I'll not complain of my breakfast, Mr. Jailer, but your lodging
is contemptible. A civilized people would not put a dog in such a
hole, without something to lie on."
" "It will be your fault, Mr. Frenchy, if you are without a bed."
"How so, Fatty?" asked Ducio, taking the coffee and tasting it.
"A real or two will find you one."
"Must I buy a bed, you old heathen?"
"No, no. Only pay two reals a week."
"Week?"
"Seven days. Payment in advance, and on the afternoon of the
seventh, the fourteenth, the twenty-first, the -
"That's enough, you old thief. I'll not be here the seventh day."
"No telling, senor. But three reals for one week is not too
much, for a good, clean shuck bed, with a blanket. But no pillow
at that price pillows are scarce, senor. The tame geese died off,
from a goose epidemic, and the wild ones the wild ones, senor
"Now you are hatching up a lie," said Ducio, eating his chop.
"You are not even a skilled liar, Mr. Jailer. These miserable tor-
tillas are not fit for a dog to eat. Why can't you Mexicans make
broad like civilized people?"
"That's an insult to Linda! She made those tortillas, and a
hotter cook is not in Bexar. I am not a Mexican, Senor Frenchy,
any mom than yourself."
"What, country then, brought forth such a caricature on human
shap< ?-
242 GUY EAYMOND.
"I am a Portugese."
"A Portugese?"
"Ducio started, as a thought struck him. He repeated the words
after the jailer deliberately, and remembered that the fellow with
the long name, mentioned by Mr. Trigg as the depositary of the
paper that Hamilton and Perry were to secure in case of his death,
was a Portugese. The papers taken by the sergeant of the guard
had been depended on by him, and the name had slipped his memory.
He would know it if repeated. He at once determined to sound
the jailer.
"Two reals for a bed !" he said, as if turning the price over in
his own mind.
"Was it not three, senor? Three, I said."
"Well three, if you insist."
"I don't think it was four, but
"Say, Mr. Jailer. I don't know your name, but how many
"Bonito, senor, Bonito. A few have the impudence to call me
'old Bonito/".
"Well, Bonito, are there many of your countrymen in Bexar?"
"Not one, senor. I am the only one who had so little brains as
to come here. A man would starve if he was not careful. Not a
real, except the miserable pay of jailer, has Bonito had since el
pajarro left this cell. What is four reals for a bed for seven
"Four? Make it ten or twenty, or more, for all the good it will
do you; but look, you, Senor Bonito, there must be another Portugese
here besides yourself, for I have his name in my papers and would
like much to find him out."
"And I tell you, Mr. Frenchy, that Bonito knows to a certainty.
He has not been in Bexar for more than a dozen years, with his eyes
shut and his ears stopped."
The conversation was interrupted by the appearance of a corporal
and two soldiers, who halted in the court, while the non-commissioned
officer called to Bonito. The latter gathered up the remnants of
Ducio's breakfast and, waiter in hand, shuffled to the doorway going
into the yard. The corporal had come for the French prisoner, who
was wanted at the headquarters of the commanding general.
Ducio was not loth to quit his cell, and high hopes filled his
breast to be able to convince the authorities of his assumed nation-
ality and pacific mission into the city. The corporal walking along
by his side and the two soldiers following in the rear, they took the
way to the plaza, and turned down towards the entrance of the main
street. A crowd was assembled near this point and just as they
GUY RAYMOND. 243
reached the corner, the toreadors rode through it, from Soledad
street, passing near the soldiers, who stopped with their prisoner to
see the sight. Ducio recognized the party as the same which had
left the Texan camp, but was ignorant of the presence of Ruiz among
their number. The latter and Trevino rode side by side and when
within a step or two of where stood Ducio, the fancifully colored
lasso that Ruiz carried at the horn of his saddle became disengaged
and he dismounted quickly to recover it. The act brought him face
to face with the Creole, whose presence so" surprised him, that he
involuntarily expressed it in an ejaculation in his natural tone of
voice. Quickly recovering his self-possession, however, he mounted
and dashed to the side of his companion.
Ducio's keen observation, assisted by the unguarded utterance of
the other, caused him to recognize Ruiz.
"What can he be doing here?" he muttered. He was hand in
glove with that smart mess of Hamilton, Trigg and Go's. He is
doubtless here as a spy. Perhaps my recognition of him may help
me out of my scrape."
* * * *
Sancho and the little lieutenant were interrupted in their exami-
nation of Ducio's papers by the entrance of General Cos, who seated
hirr self at the green table a few moments before the alleged French
subject was ushered into the apartment.
The General did not raise his eyes until he had completed the
signatures he was affixing to several documents spread out before him.
Meanwhile Ducio stood biting his lip in sheer vexation at the
indifference to his presence, as well as on account of the impudent
ogling to which he was subjected from Sancho and the lace covered
lieutenant of the staff.
"Who have we here?" asked General Cos, when he finally looked
up.
"This is the fellow who had the mysterious paper," explained
the lieutenant.
"The Frenchman, eh ?" said Cos, with a full breath and an ironical
emphasis. He gave Ducio a severe look, then asked him in French:
"Vous etes Francais?"
"Oui, monsieur."
"Que faites vous ici?"
"Seulement pour voir le pays."
"He speaks French, at all events," said the general, turning to
his companions.
"You speak Spanish also?"
"Tolerably well."
"Let me see his passport, lieutenant."
The man of gold lace selected a paper from a pile and
to the general, who looked it over carefully.
"This seems to be an official document, and you answer tl
description perfectly. What other evidence have you of your nei
trality in this rebellion?"
Ducio thought a moment, then said :
"If I point you out a real spy in your midst, one whom you know
to be a rebel, and my indication of him leads to his capture, will
that prove my innocence sufficient to cause my release?"
"It will."
"Write it down that it will. Sign it and give it to me and I will
disclose who is here as a spy."
"Can he be captured today ?"
"In a few minutes."
The general took a pen and wrote a few lines, signed his name
and handed it to Ducio. The latter scanned it curiously, then with
satisfaction, folded it and placed it in his pocket.
The lieutenant whispered to the general, who interrupted Ducio
as he was about to speak.
"Hold, sir ! What about this paper ?"
That that that is a little sketch of the outlines of Galvestoi
island, where the town stands. I made those outlines the day
stayed there."
"But the letters and marks?"
Ducio answered with a ready lie :
"They are references to an explanation I sent with a letter to nr
sister. I forgot to put it in my letter."
"Well! Who is this spy?"
"Euiz."
"Where is he to be found?"
"Disguised as a toreador."
"Santa Maria !" exclaimed Sancho ; "I thought I knew those eyes/
GUT RAYMOND. 245
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Ruiz was at a loss to account for the appearance of Ducio in the
town, and in the custody of the military. He supposed that he must
have been captured without the lines, either in a skirmish or by having
ventured too closely to the Mexican outposts. In the many surmises
which passed rapidly through his mind, ho imagined that trie jmsoner
might have been commissioned with a message for him from the
camp and had been indiscreet enough to brave capture in the attempt
to communicate with him. The thought bothered him exceedingly ;
the more so as he felt confident that the Creole had recognized him.
There were not more than three men in San Antonio in whom he
would have been willing to confide the secret of his presence within
the hostile lines. These were Father Tgnacio, Jose and Guy Raymond.
Troubled with his thoughts, Ruiz found himself opposite the priest's
house, and saw the major domo sin ml ing in the front entrance,
looking and gaping like the rest of ihe populace, at the show of which
he formed a part. The toreadors stopped here and Trevino ordered
the music to play in honor of the good priest,, before whose house
they had halted.
Ruiz took advantage of this to interview Jose. Under the pre-
tence of wanting a drink of water, lie dismounted., threw his reins
to a piccador and approached the door.
"Senor, I want to get a drink of water." Ruiz used his natural
tone of voice, which caused Jose to regard him closely.
"Enter, senor ; I will bring it."
"Allow me to go back with you."
Jose was puzzled lit the familiar voice, but invited the Inn-adnr
to follow him. Arrived at the court, Ruiz caught him by the arm and
said :
"Jose, don't you know me?"
"Senor Ruiz! A toreador?"
"Yes, Jose ! but you must not give me away."
"Por nada, senor," responded Jose earnestly.
Ruiz then hurriedly communicated to his friend the fact of the
presence of a young man from the Texas camp as n prisoner. ITe
wanted Jose to find out how he came in the town and to ascertain
anything else in connection with his capture and detention. Jose
promised to fail h fully ondeavor to get all the information as spoodily
as possible. Ruix relumed to his masquerading while Ihe olhor
departed with alacrity on his errand. He had no difficulty in tracing
246 GUY RAYMOND.
the prisoner and the file of soldiers to headquarters. Here he was
a little puzzled how to proceed. He strode up and down for a few
minutes, like the sentinel who was walking his post, trying to devise
some excuse to go into the building, and into the office of the general
if necessary. Finally a thought seemed to strike him, and he boldly
entered the hall. The first door to the right was the office of the
adjutant general. It was vacant, but as Jose poked his head in he
heard voices to the rear, the sounds coming through a door com-
municating to the back veranda overlooking the river. He quietly
entered the room and noiselessly approached the back door and took
a seat, ostensibly to await the coming of the occupants of the room.
His new position enabled him to hear distinctly what was being said
on the veranda.
There were two speakers.
"This fellow Ruiz must be shot," said one voice.
"He is a murderer," said the other.
"Murderer?"
"Yes; he killed a poor devil named Vasquez and threw the body
in the river."
"What do you think of this Frenchman, Sancho ?"
"He may be all right. He will deserve his liberty anyway for let-
ting us know that the traitor Ruiz is in our lines masquerading as a
toreador."
"You said this American had something to do with the murde
of Vasquez."
"He did. Besides, he murdered Vasquez's brother when he was
with the Lipans. The last crime, doubtless, committed to destroy
all proof of the first."
"And Father Ignacio protects such a serpent ?*'
"He is living on the fat of the land."
"Will the general order his arrest?"
"If he don't it won't be much trouble to put him out of the way."
As this was said, Sancho and the lieutenant walked into the ad-
jutant's office. Jose, to all appearances, was fast asleep, with his head
bent over on his hand. His long, heavy respiration indicated ob
livion to all perceptible things.
"For todos los Santos !" exclaimed the lieutanant. "Whom hav
we here?"
"A borachon?" suggested Sancho, giving Jose a shove.
Jose jumped up, rubbing his eyes, having all the appearance o
awaking from a deep sleep.
"The adjutant general has not come?" he asked, rubbing his ey
a
:
5 iruy
V ."
GUY KAYMOND. 247
"Why this is the major domo."
"Si, senor," said Jose. "I have a message from Father Ignacio,
and while waiting I fell asleep."
"Too much Cabeza cle Toro, Jose," said Sancho, laughing.
"Late hours and mescal."
"What is your message ?" asked the lieutenant. "I will deliver it."
"The Padre Ignacio heard you had taken some prisoners and he
wanted to know if any of them were Catholics/
f$o, no, Jose ; only one who is a Frenchman ; but he will be released
some time today," said Sancho.
Jose excused himself after begging the officer and Sancho not to
let Father Ignacio know that he had gone sound asleep at head-
quarters while on his business.
When Jose returned to the plaza the toreadors had disappeared,
but he followed in the wake of the music and overtook them as they
neared the dwelling of the Senora de la Torre, on Flores street. He
attracted th^ attention of Ruiz by shouting above the vivas of the
mob so that the former could distinguish his voice and know that he
wished to communicate with him. His ruse proved successful, for the
amateur bull-fighter dismounted, and leading his horse to one side,
loosened the saddle girth) as if something had gone wrong with it.
was soon at his side,
ell ?"
ou are betrayed, senor. You will be arrested. Senor Ray-
mond is in danger also. You and he are charged with the murder of
Vasquez."
"From what you heard, think you they will act before night?"
he military act quickly, senor."
ou are right, Jose. HI have to use my wits, and right quickly."
Come, amigo. I have it!" said Jose, throwing the reins of the
to one of the men who had approached to know what was the
matter. "Hold the senor's horse; we'll be gone but a moment."
Jose, without further ceremony, took the arm of Ruiz, who per-
mitted the major domo to conduct him to the sidewalk, where a nar-
row passage afforded entrance behind a wall that concealed a jacal, in
J; of which sat an ancient Aztec stooping over some basketwork.
Alejo, we want to say something in private," said Jose. ?iflf>r
accosting the old man with a good morning. "Can we go a moment
our room?"
Si, si! En (re, entre," replied the old fellow with the most
1 indifference,
hat do you propose to do here, Jose ?" asked Ruiz.
juuseiie
Jose wi
::?;
rnond i
Vasqut
"F
I
248 GUY RAYMOND.
"Change clothes with you."
"But you will suffer if-
"We haven't a moment to lose. Off with that rig," interrupted
Jose, pulling off his jncl;ci nnd following it up by rapidly divesting
himself of his pants. Ruiz, without further objections, imitated his
friend, and in an incredibly short time they stood, each metamor-
phosed in appearance.
"I believe we are the same size, Jose."
"No time for comments, senor; "I must get to my horse, and
you"
"I will take care of myself, amigo mio."
The two embraced in the most fraternal manner.
Jose returned to the street, mounted Ruiz's steed, and rejoined
the toreadors.
The late toreador, habilitated in the garments of the late major
domo, asked a question or two of the venerable basket-maker, who
replied curtly, without raising his head from his task.
Ruiz paused a moment, watching Alejo twist in and out the rushes
from which he was constructing his baskets, apparently happy and
contented, at any rate indifferent to everything else.
"Occupation ! Occupation !" thought Ruiz ; "it constitutes nine-
tenths of contentment."
With this philosophical thought, he turned away, and going to the
rear of the shanty, he jumped a dilapidated wall, landing in a yard
of spacious dimensions, on one side of which ran the ascequia of gurg-
ling water, darkened by the shadows of a row of stately cottonwoods.
He turned quickly to the right and followed the wall over which
he had leaped for perhaps fifty steps. This brought him to a gate,
which he opened without hesitation, and passed through into a narrow
court that terminated where an open door and window overlooked its
pavement. At the window sat a lady manipulating some white ma-
terial, bending over her work as she deftly passed a pair of scissors
through it. The step upon the flags attracted her attention.
"What do you wish here ?" she asked quickly.
"I come to see you."
"To see me?"
"And the Senorita Josefa,"
"And may I ask who so honors us with a visit through the back
gate?"
"An unusual way, I ;ilmit, in gain entrance to a private house,
but your brother's major dnmo need not be over ceremonious."
k 'My brother's major domo?"
GUY RAYMOND. 249
"Well, well; I see the dress has net entirely transformed me.
Jose and I exchanged clothes ;i little while ago. He is now a gallant
toreador, to all appearance, while I, your old friend Manuel Rui/,
am masquerading in his garments for prudential reasons."
"Senor Ruiz I"
"Do you not recognize me ?"
'Your voice, but the loss of beard takes away every means of
identification. How does it happen that you have put yourself in
anger?"
Ruiz thought best to dissemble.
'Anxiety to see Josefa caused me to come in disguise as a tor-
idor. By accident I was recognized by an enemy and forced to
this new disguise and your house MS an asylum until the darkness
)f night can facilitate my escape."
"Josefa is not at home. However, come in the house, lest some
me be on your trail and catch a glimpse of you."
Ruiz had stood opposite the window through whose grated opening
the Senora de la Torre had addressed to him her remarks. When
le had uttered her last words of caution she withdrew from the
dndow, and reappearing the next moment at the door, bade her
visitor to enter. She cast a searching glance at him as he did so as
half in doubt that it was really Ruiz, so changed indeed was his ap-
iarance from loss of beard and from a darker hue which some prepara-
tion had lent to his physiognomy. He noticed her expression, laughed
he explained his painstaking at disguisement, and reflected how
>mical he must appear in the eyes of the senora, who had always
him in the garb of a well dressed caballero. He was almost
glad that Josefa was away, yet she would return and find him there.
_t would perhaps be best to bring back some of the old look to his
ice by removing the unnatural complexion the artificial appliance
produced. A hint to this effect to the hostess was followed by
lirections to go into the adjoining room, where he would find soap,
rater and towels.
'It is Josef a's apartment," she said. "When you finish your
>ilet you can come into the sitting-room, where we will await her
>turn."
Ruiz found himself in a tidy apartment that bore evidences of its
listress' taste and care. He felt half tempted to forego his intention
id not disturb the exquisite order of the room, but a glance in the
lirror that had so often reflected Josefa's face, caused him to renew
iis first determination. When he finally viewed himself in the gkss
id was about to turn away satisfied with the change, he caught sight
250 GUY RAYMOND.
of a crampled paper that the draught had carried against the iron
bars of the window, where it was securely lodged. Impelled by curi-
osity, perhaps, or a nameless impulse, he reached for it and foun
on a hasty inspection that it was addressed to Guy Raymond, an
signed by Beatrice.
"How came this here?" he asked mentally, at the same time plac-
ing it in his pocket. "She has suspected me of loving Beatrice and
here I find a letter from Beatrice to the young American. Can sh
have intercepted this for a purpose? Josef a is a strange girl. A
girl to be afraid of if she imagined herself wronged/'
It was afternoon before Josef a returned. Ruiz had passed the
time rather impatiently. The object of his coming within the hostile
lines seemed about to be defeated by the merest accident, and his life
was in great danger, now that his presence had been made known by
Ducio Halfen. He must necessarily be a prisoner within the house
of the De la Torre's until night, when the darkness would permit his
exit; but where to go unless it would be back to the Texan camp, he
had not the remotest idea.
Ducio was promptly released and was allowed to repossess his pa-
pers and money, although the latter was short from an assessment
levied by the guard. To this he submitted without a murmur for fear
that complaint might compromise his safety. The streets were
almost clear of people as he issued from the grounds of the head-
quarters, but on reaching the main plaza he could hear the shouts of
the crowd mingled with the music of the toreadors as they passed up
Flores street. He thought of his treachery to Ruiz and wondered if
the latter had already experienced its effects. Danger to himself
might result from the betrayal of the clever Mexican; but that was
in the future. And what cared Ducio for danger in no wise im-
pending ?
Selfish natures, planning and plotting immoral acts, are so a
sorbed in their narrow propensities that they are as dead to premoni
tions of disaster as they are lost to any emotions involving conscien
or honor. His character was that of the grasping, greedy and unprin-
cipled world that would trample upon any human right to secure
selfish ends. Pie was that world individualized. As Ducio strolled
along the wall separating Linda's garden from the plaza, a tall lady,
whose features were concealed by her rebosa, swept by him and en
tered that cozy retreat by the doorway in advance of him. Just befor
she disappeared she cast a hurried glance at the stranger, when their
eyes met for an instant, and Ducio, looking after her, caught sight of
the interior before the door could be closed.
n-
t
ce
GUY KAYMOND.
"Those were piercing eyes, and fine ones," he muttered.
While he was thus musing he found himself in front of the monte
pio's, with the proprietor lolling lazily in Ins door.
"Will you tell me who is your neighbor., with that door in the wall
that opens into the garden ?" he asked of the monte pio.
"That?" asked the latter, leaning out slightly. "That is the place
where Bonito, the jailor, lives. If you want to see him, however, you
must go to the next street and go through the jail. That gate is the
private entrance for his daughter, the Senorita Linda. Does the
senor want me to show him the jail?"
"No, thanks ; I can easily find it. But you may tell me who was
the lady that just entered that gate. Was she Bonito's daughter ?"
"No, senor; it must have been the Senorita de la Torre, who is a
frequent visitor to the Senorita Linda."
"Do you know a Portuguese in Bexar, Senor Monte Pio ?"
"No, senor, unless it be Bonito.."
"Has none other been here and afterwards gone away? Think
II. If you put me on the right track I will reward you."
"Are you a detective, senor?"
"Not at all. I seek a man whose interest it is to see me."
"You may see Bonito and tell him the gist of the interest and
haps the knowledge of its importance may assist his memory."
"How assist it ?"
"Some little particular may recall the presence of a transient
countryman."
"He so worships money, perhaps a peso would be more effective."
The monte pio gave a shrug and Ducio passed on. He reflected
he walked :
"Bonito! Bonito! There was nothing Portuguese in such a
.e. The jailer was stupidity personified, but he loved a real,
e must return to the carcel for his effects, and he would try to win
the old fellow's confidence and let time draw out what he wished to
know. If fortune was to be his, it would come. He would seize
opportunities as they would present themselves, not endeavor to force
decrees of fate.
The court of the carcel was vacant when the Creole entered. The
r leading to the jailor's apartments stood ajar; just enough open
invite a push, or repel intrusion by one unaccustomed to cross its
t'eshold.
Ducio hesitated, then raised his hand, perhaps to knock, but ar-
ted the motion as the sounds of voices issued from within.
They were female voices.
252 GUY RAYMOND.
To a moderate knock from Ducio there was no answer. A mo-
ment's hesitation., then the door yielded to his push, disclosed the
hall-way with the lounge on the right side opposite the room whence
the voices still issued. Ducio had an investigating disposition. He
moved quietly, taking in the apartment and noting the two other
places of exit, one at the end of the hall, the other quite opposite the
room he knew to be occupied. Ducio listened as the voices grew
^distinct.
"I certainly must have dropped a letter, which I thought was se-
cure in my pocket. I wanted you to deliver it to the owner, Linda."
"A letter ! For me to deliver ?"
"Yes. I will explain. I was going down to see my uncle, I
picked up a letter lying in the street in front of San Fernando. To
my surprise it was addressed to Guy Eaymond, and signed 'Beatrice.'
The letter was in English/'
"And you have lost it?' 7
"Perhaps. I can't find it, although I was quite positive that it
was in my pocket when I left home."
"Why did you wish me to deliver it, Josef a?"
"Because, I like neither the writer nor the one addressed."
"Josef a! Jealous?"
"Yes, if you would know it jealous."
"But you have seen so little of Senor Raymond."
"You? American friend is nothing to me. The Senorita
has doubtless captured him also, as the letter I found would disclose
if translated.
"She came between me and Manuel Ruiz, who also fell a victim
to her American accomplishments. Now I hate Ruiz, but I wi
never forgive Beatrice Navarro."
"How bad it will be for me to liave two friends who are enemi<
"If they were all guileless like you, Linda
"But if Senor Ruiz had fancied me
"I should have forgiven him and held you guiltless."
"I am not so sure of that, amiga mia."
Ducio was listening attentively up to this point of the conversati
and had moved noiselessly past the lounge until he could peep into
the open door, which led into the opposite room. Half turning from
a hasty glance into that apartment, what was his surprise to see the
blanket covered mattress of the lounge rise at one end, without any
apparent agency, until it doubled back and disclosed the head, should-
ers and back of Bonito, who appeared to emerge from the depths
below. The jailer's face was turned t'nmi the Creole as his bur
frame rose, as it were, by steps from under the lounge.
GUY RAYMOND. 253
Ducio, at a loss what to make of such a proceeding, felt that he
was an accidental witness of something that might involve a secret,
and: retired at once into the room, curious to see what had placed
him in his present position. There was nothing whatever behind
w r hich he could conceal himself; no way of egress by which to escape,
except through the hall, where Bonito could be heard a moment later
shuffling along.^ Ducio listened, and the steps ceased at the further
end of the passage , he had just left. Feeling this to be his oppor-
tunity, he slipped quickly out, passed by the rearranged lounge and
stood once more in the court. He felt repressed at what he had seen ;
his chest heaved and for a moment he felt non-plussed. It was mo-
mentary, however, with Ducio. He reprimanded himself and in-
stantly knocked loudly on the door.
"Diablo ! Quieres quebrar la puerta !" came in response from the
effeminate voice of Bonito.
"You! And where is your guard?" he said as he confronted
Ducio.
"I have dispensed with guards., amigo. I am free."
"And you want your things ?"
"Those taken from my pockets? Yes the other no matter at
this moment/'
"Remain here then no you must be a gentleman and all right
to get out of their clutches. Walk in there with Linda while I get
what you ask for. She has company, but it is no one but walk
right in; but stay, Senor Frenchy, you promised me four reals, and
"Anything you say, Bonito," interrupted Ducio. "Only get me
I want and you shall have it your way."
ive reals," muttered Bonito, turning away just as Ducio step-
upon the threshold to enter Linda's room.
CHAPTER XXXV.
A taste for reading and study was a fortunate circumstance in
the character of Guy Raymond. The trait was commended by the
good priest of San Fernando, who wondered why a youth of habits
so sedate and a mind so cultivated would not yield to the evidences
that so clearly substantiated the claims of dogmatic religion. Guy's
agnosticism called forth protest after protest from Father Ignacio,
while Father Nicholas owned to saying a mass for the reclamation
of the young unbeliever. The object of their solicitude was somewhat
stocial under these attempts to convert him to a belief in miraculous
17-r
254 GUY RAYMOND.
bv only
intervention of a Diety who had chosen to assert his personality only
in ages when the human mind was so steeped in ignorance that it was
ready to accept any theory of a cosmos which pandered to the instinc-
tive longings of the heart. This sentiment only worried his pious
friends and caused them to plan new methods by which to instill
into the young American a religious bent. Even Jose had related to
Guy numerous experiences, among which were repeated interpositions
of St. Anthony, who had brought him good luck often when he least
deserved it. But the evidence of the major domo failed of effect, and
Guy still remained the subject of well meant solicitude. The sudden
passion with which the beautiful Beatrice had inspired him had caused
a conflict between literature and love. He frequently saw from
behind the printed lines of his volume the mobile features of the
beauty, or read between them the remembered words which her soft
tones had articulated. The severance of intercourse with the Na-
varre abode influenced him in remaining within doors as interest in ex-
terior things had diminished in ratio with his ability to interview the
girl who filled! his thoughts. Despite his power of self control he
could not avoid the inevitable depression that must follow disappoint-
ment in young love's dream. The appearance of the toreadors
with their extravagant costumes and grotesque movements had elicited
the first smile that had broken the melancholy of his features since
Navarro pere had bowed him from the house. The bull-fighters
formed a topic for conversation in the leisure hours of Father Ignacio.
He explained the manner of conducting these exhibitions with all the
cruel details of the torture of the animals, the risk of the toreador and
the final coup de grace that ended the scene.
"Do you not think such fights an unwarranted cruelty to the ani-
mals, and unworthy of our civilization ?" asked Guy.
"By no means/' replied Father Ignacio. "It is a national custom
which the church has never condemned. Animals were made for
man's gratification and it matters not if they be killed to supply
physical or mental food. When we eat them it nourishes our bodies ;
when we kill them in the bull-pen for recreation it is a healthy
diversion."
"But cruelty even in necessary destruction of animal life should be
abhorent to the refined mind. It seems to me that it is rather a
strained position to assume that bull-killing is a necessary diversion."
The argument lasted for a considerable time, without resulting in
the conversion of either to the other's position. It was late in the after-
noon of the day when Ruiz and Jose had exchanged clothing that
this debate took place. Father Ignacio had duties at the church,
GUY RAYMOND. 25,5
Quy sallied forth for a ramble. He took his way down the Calle de
la Carcel. Senora Candelario greeted him as he passed her shop with
"buenas tardes," and looked after him with ill concealed admiration,
his fair complexion and handsome appearance being irresistable
charms in the eyes of the senoritas, while it excited the envy of the
men. He passed the carcel and the Cabo/a do Toro and .continued
lii's walk until the little foot bridge above the ford was reached. The
old millwheel was slowly turning, just touched by the seething cur-
rent, as it shot foaming and spurting past the narrow way into the
wide and shallow ford below.
Guy had been told that here his enemy, Vasquez, had been thrown
after having been murdered, and as he leaned over the rail and gazed
into the limpid waters, down to the soft depths, carpeted with water-
cress and mosses, his thoughts wandered back to the Indian fight,
where by his bravery he had won the title of El Bravo, and where
he had captured the saddle that Vasquez had identified as his brother's
property. The murder of his accuser had probably saved his life.
He thought of the Indian village, and wondered how fared Lnoni,
and Pedro and Chicha. If Walumpta had blamed Laoni for his
escape. His reflections continued in this channel for some time
when he felt suddenly the weight of two great paws, and then beheld
Roll a capering about him with a piece of his rope still tied around
his neck.
"How did you get loose, old fellow? Gnawed your rope, no
doubt."
"No," he continued, examining the rope, "cut by a sharp knife.
Who could have done it?"
He fondled the dog for awhile, then taking hold of him, he threw
him into the water.
"There, take, a bath since you would come."
Rolla came to the surface' at once and, swimming to the shore,
shook the water from his body. He came cavorting back to his mas-
ter, but manifested no disposition to have the experiment repeated.
Guy was still laughing at Rolla's ducking when the tramp of feet
upon the bridge attracted his attention, and he beheld a file of four
soldiers approaching under the command of a corporal. He stood to
one side to make way for them on the narrow bridge, but was rather
surprised when the officer laid his hands upon his shoulder and stated
he had orders for his arrest.
"Are you not mistaken?" he asked.
w No, not mistaken. Is that your dog?"
r es but why?"
256 GUY RAYMOND.
)u were
"I went to the priest's house for you and was told that you
gone. The mozo said that this was your dog, and I cut his rope
and took him to the door where you went out. He took your trail
and we followed him."
"Rolla, poor fellow, you betrayed me."
The dog looked earnestly at his master, then at the soldier, whose
hand still rested on his prisoner, and muttered a low growl. He
seemed to comprehend that there was trouble.
Guy tried to pump his captor, but he knew nothing, and there
being no recourse, he submitted to be taken back over the route by
which he had just reached the bridge. He walked beside the cor-
poral until the carcel was reached, when he was conducted through
the old corridor and into the court just as the night sentinel was
taking his post.
"El Pajarro !"
This exclamation burst from Bonito's lips as he issued from his
door and saw his old prisoner again in the toils. The uplifted hands
accompanying the exclamation retained their position for a moment,
as the old jailer still regarded the prisoner with expressions first of
surprise, followed by regret, then satisfaction, all struggling for the
mastery.
The soldiers witnessed this demonstration at rest, while the sentry
paused in his walk, and Rolla, upon his haunches close by his mas
completed the momentary tableau.
"A prisoner ?"
"Yes, Bonito ; but for what I know not."
"The orders are to keep this man closely confined," said the cor-
poral.
"Whose orders?"
"The adjutant general's."
"Very well, senor corporal. I know my duty."
Guy sat down upon the bench wondering what could be the charge
against him. The squad left and Bonito sat down beside him.
"I will have to take the fellow out of your old cell, for it is the
best one in the place."
"Am I to be confined alone ?"
"You may go in with him ; but he is a drunken fool of a torea
and-
"A toreador?"
"A toreador. He was brought here beastly drunk, and he is
quite sober yet."
"Put me in, Bonito. I want to get acquainted with him. I want
to know a toreador."
itry
;or-
GUT RAYMOND. 257
Bonito made haste to prepare a bed for his old prisoner, now come
back; but he refrained from telling Linda at once, as he knew it
would pain her to learn that the handsome American was again in
limbo.
Bonito took good care to tell Candelario that Guy was a prisoner
and to hint that his supper from her cusine would be acceptable. The
good senora responded by sending a savory dish with tortillas and
chocolate.
When< Guy entered his cell after supper he stretched his limbs
upon a comfortable bed, and, notwithstanding the labored breathing
of his fellow prisoner in the further corner, he dropped off to sleep.
Doubtless the rough experiences that had attended the late for-
tunes of Guy Raymond had hardened his sensibility to any sudden
change in their forecast prophetic of evil. To a naturally philosophic
turn, he had added the advantage of a knowledge of human nature,
gained from a varied source, and had utilized it in the study of in-
dividuality and of race. The readiness with which he accommodated
himself to his cell and the ease with which he lapsed into slumber
perhaps may have been greatly due to his intimate relations with his
jailor, the friendship of Linda, and the tender, good will of Cande-
lario, whose edibles were always at his command when a prisoner.
In fact, reflections embracing much of this line of thought absorbed
him as the consciousness of waking reality became merged into the
weird phantasms of dreamland. Here Candelario met him with a bas-
ket, hid beneath the folds of a snowy cover, and beckoned him to
follow. She led him through the dark streets until they emerged into
the country. Before him were mountains, craggy and steep, to which
she pointed encouragingly. He followed, as it were, under a spell
that deprived him of any power to object to her guidance.
Suddenly they entered an opening in the side of the highest
mountain, which he recognized as the silver mine above the village of
the Lipans. Candelario caused him to seat himself beside her and
to partake of the viands in the basket. She gave him to understand
that lie would have need of all his strength and must fortify the inner
man to be able to perform a task. At the conclusion of the repast
.-lie produced a pick and directed him to displace a square flagstone.
He mechanically took the tool and began to pick a breach on the fur-
ther edge to introduce a lever. The strokes rang through the mine
find echoed from hill-girt valley. Under the rapid blows of his pick
ih<- purpose was soon accomplished and lie looked around for a ful-
crum, but in vain. Finally his companion threw him a skull, with a
motion indicating that the revolting remnant of humanity would
258 GUY EAYMOND.
suffice. Guy reluctantly pushed it into position, and then introducing
the handle of his pick into the hole he had made, pried up the stone and
threw it over. This disclosed the entrance to a subterrean vault with
steps whose outline, barely distinguishable, were lost in the obscurity
below. Candelario motioned him to descend. He hesitated. She
then drew from her basket a lighted lantern, whose rays revealed the
bottom of the vault but a few feet below. The two descended the
. steps, Guy following in wonder as to the purpose of his guide. Can-
delario gave him the lantern and told him to search the vault for
treasure. Holding the lantern above his head he groped along the
narrow way until he reached the end of the apartment where thriv
was an enormous chest. This he opened without difficulty and there,
lying in compartments, were gold coins of every denomination. He
filled his pockets until they would hold no more, when he called to
Candelario to bring her basket; but on looking back, she was not to
be seen. Hurrying to the steps he- called on her to come, hut the
concession of his voice was painful to his ears. I To ascended the
flight but the stone had been replaced. In his dismay he dropped
the lantern, and the light becoming extinguished, he was left in total
darkness. He struggled at the stone, but to no purpose, his greatest
strength being inadequate to make it yield. Tn his despair, he shouted
aloud for help.
"Who are you, amigo?" were the words uttered in half inebriated
tones that greeted Guy's ear, accompanied by a rough shake.
"What is the matter ? Por Dios ! What ails you ?" was asked
again.
Guy, now thoroughly awake, knew that he had been at his old
trick of dreaming, and collected himself sufficiently to realize that he
was in his cell and that the toreador, now somewhat sobered, had
been doubtless aroused by his calls to be rescued from the closed
vault.
"Are you the toreador?" asked Guy, as the other rolled back to his
pallet.
"Si, senor no senor It is possible I am a toreador, and ye
I know myself and could only tell where I am, I am not one."
"I can enlighten you a little then. You are in the carcel, an
you take the jailor's word for it, you are a toreador."
"The carcel ! The carcel ! Then if Bonito says I am a torea
the illusion is on my side, and I am not a major domo, for he knows
well the major domo."
"My friend, you are drunk, as your thickness of speech indica
"I was at the vinoteria, it is true, but not drunk, senor."
his
ador
10WS
licates."
GUY RAYMOND. 259
"Bereft of your senses, then, since you cannot tell if you belong
to the toreadors or not/'
"Es verdad, senor. It is a question. It all happened so suddenly.
It is a question."
"What is a question?"
"If I am a toreador, a major domo, or Senor Ruiz ?"
"Ruiz! What of Ruiz?"'
"Es muy caballero."
"Your voice is familiar to me in spite of its thickness. What is
your name, senor toreador?' 7
"Jose no Ruiz, senor. Manuel Ruiz."
"Manuel Ruiz ! Not he whom I know," said Guy, half to him-
self." You are not certain then, if you. are Jose or Manuel Ruiz,
or a major domo, or a toreador. My friend, you had better go to
sleep, and perhaps in the morning you will be able to tell your name
and occupation and completely fix in your own mind your absolute
identity."
"You talk well, senor, for a Frenchman, not unlike a friend of
mine; in fact, senor, your voice sounds like my friend's."
"Not much of a Frenchman, senor toreador."
"It was a Frenchman arrested. It was so said on the street."
ait until morning, amigo, and your ideas will have more
t. I'm going to sleep."
Guy was awakened the next morning by the movements of his
fellow prisoner, who was knocking on the door and calling for Bonito.
The light from the grated window made objects quite distinct around
the cell, and he had a fair view of his companion in misfortune. ;is
that worthy stood bawling for the jailer and making a noise on the
door with the heel of his shoe for a knocker. The thick voice of the
toreador had been discarded and Bonito's name was CM lied in such
familiar tones that Guy raised himself on his elbow and gave to the
other a searching glance as he turned disgusted from his attempts k,
gain the attention of the jailor.
"Jose ! as I live !"
"What! Senor Raymond !"
"That dress ! What does it mean? And your confinement here?"
"I have not a distinct recollection of an arrest ; but as for the tor-
eador part I can easily explain. But you, senor; by what bad fortune
does it come that you are in the carcel ?"
"That I cannot tell, not having been informed. But Jose, how
about your dress? You did not desert Father Ignacio?"
"Not I. This tniruery was <>nlv put on to carry a point and to
save a friend. To save Manuel Ruiz."
260 GUY RAYMOND.
"Ruiz ? Please explain."
Jose informed Guy of the whole affair, dwelling on the minut(
points with great volubility, down to the moment he left Manuel
the jacal of the old basket-maker.
"Then you know not what become of Ruiz."
"How should I, senor, when I have not seen him since, and doi
even know how I came here ?"
"After you left Ruiz what happened ?"
"Enough, senor, or I would not be here. We stopped, we tore
dors, at every vinoteria and drank, and drank. I expected to be
arrested at every step as Ruiz, but it must be that toreadors and
come to think of it, it is the custom to look upon them as above ar-
rest while they are amusing the people. It was plain that I was fol-
lowed as the one wanted, and it is plain to me now, senor, that the
excitement of knowing that I was running some risk, together with
the happy feeling of being so finely dressed, and ogled by the senoritas
from the windows, caused me to drink too much wine and mescal,
and when we parted at the vinoteria, in the Plaza de Armas, I remem-
ber nothing more until you were calling for help last night, when half
dazed from my debauch I rose and shook you. Do you remember it,
senor?"
"I was dreaming, Jose. It was as bad as a nightmare. What
treatment do you expect when they discover that you are not Ruiz ?"
"They committed the blunder. Am I to blame for not beii
Ruiz?"
"These questions will cut no figure. You aided an escape."
"They will have to prove that."
"How about Ruiz's dress, whose tinsel made you so happy ?"
"They will have to prove it is his dress."
"How about you having warned him ?"
"Let them prove it."
"They will believe you were eavesdropping at headquarters,
stead of being asleep, while the arrest was discussed in the n<
room."
"Let them prove I was not asleep."
"Perhaps your determination to rest the onus probandi on the pr<
secution when these points arise, will not be agreed to by a Mexico
military tribunal. It will be apt to take many things for grants
and will supply manufactured missing links to complete the chain
necessary to convict you. Your act was heroic, Jose, but you
more risk than you imagine."
"What is the onus probandi, senor?"
m ran
GUY RAYMOND. 261
"The burden of proof. Under Mexican martial law, no proof
is necessary. The will of the military despot decides the case."
"There is old Bonito's voice in the court. He heard me call and
knock this morning and paid no attention to it. The crusty old
miser."
"He does not know one of his prisoners, at all events."
"That's myself."
"He does not dream you are other than what that dress declares
you."
"He will awake from his dream today."
"Not as much surprised as when I awoke from mine last night and
found that I was not buried alive."
"Was it a bad dream, senor ?"
"Worse than bad."
"You should pray to St. Anthony, senor. When I have bad
dreams I never fail to pray to St. Anthony, and then they never come
true."
"Perhaps they would not come true if you did not pray to the
saint."
"Don't you believe it, senor. St. Anthony is good. The night
when you were fighting Vasquez and the whole crowd in the Cabeza
de Torro I was in despair for your safety, when I looked up and saw
the picture of the blessed St. Anthony on the wall. I immediately
asked his protection for you and he saved you."
"I thought it was Ruiz; and all this time I have been bestowing
on him the gratitude that belongs to St. Anthony."
"It is true, senor. The good saint used Ruiz in answer to my
little prayer."
"I see it all now, Jose. You should have told me this before."
CHAPTER XXXVI.
When Bonito saw Ducio well into Linda's apartment he pro-
ceeded across the court into the street and took his way towards the
plaza. He muttered to himself as he shuffled along, now casting his
eyes this way and that, in a nervous manner, or turning completely
around as if he wanted nothing to escape his observation.
"That Frenchy came none too late," he muttered. "I had not
been a minute out of the vault, Bonito must be more careful."
The jailor turned north when the plaza was reached and hurried
by the monte pio's, who had quite a number of customers engaging
his attention.
Guv KAY.MOXD.
12 into
"The monte pio is always in luck," growled Bonito, casting
the establishment an envious jance. Everybody making money and
the jailor at his wits end. But the notary may give me some consola-
tion."
Xdt more than two minutes' walk from the monte pio's, and situ-
ated on the west side of the Calle Soledad, detached from buildings
on either side, stood a house of the conventional build. A single
arched doorway constituted the street entrance, while two grated
windows set low in the massive masonry, furnished ventilation and
light. On a homely piece of board fastened over the door and in
letters executed unmistakably by an amateur, was the word "Xotario."
A peep inside the apartment nearer the plaza, through the deep win-
dow would have disclosed the presence of a lean, little man sitting
by a table, on which were books and papers placed without regard
to order, his attention apparently engaged by a scrutiny of some of
the documents before him. A desk, with numerous pigeon hole-
surmounting it, occupied a place at the rear wall and near a half
dozen shelves amply filled with volumes of every conceivable size.
A heavy oaken chest was just visible in the shadow of a corner, while
a single chair, other than the one occupied, completed the furniture
of the room. If the busy, occupant had glanced but a moment from
his papers out of the window, he would have .<een through an opening
in the row of opposite buildings a pretty bend of the river, where
its blue waters were eddying and boiling 1 above its bed of grasses, to
be lost again a few feet further on in the continuation of a graceful
arc. The occupant of the room, however, appeared too much en-
-ed to be conscious of the outer world. For a long time on the
morning that Bonito had been observed by Ducio to issue from the
unaccountable place under the lounge, the swarthy little notarv had
been busy with some papers, in which he seemed to be extremely in-
-:ed. The commanding general had sent for him in great haste,
and immediately upon his return from headquarters, he had been
examining papers. His first act on returning w,-:~ I himself
and spread out before him on the table a paper he had taken from
his wallet. He looked at it long and curiously, and occasionally
would give vent to some expression of impatience or doubt."
"So the general thinks this paper is important and may yet fur-
nish evidence against a prisoner." he said, as he leaned bnck and looked
thoughtfully at. the ceiling. Then bending forward again over the
table, he scrutinized the paper and began to speculate:
"This is certainly a memorandum sketch of an island or sea coast.
Here is a rude outline of a ship: here a bayou, a road, two bri
Gkrr RAYMOND. 263
tho.-e sin;ill rin^r- IIM-JIM something. Two rows of these rin^,-. and here
lo the ri<:'ht they are numbered ; tlic outer OIKS one, two, three: the
inner one-, one ;m<l f\vo. One, two, three; one and two. Santa
Maria ! \\'h;i( e;in f hey'he numbered for?"
Such were !li<; notary's reflection.- as he peered over the paper
vvhicli had heen taken from Ducio by <he militarv. The little man
was considered hy everyone to he an expert in all that pertained to pa-
pers, and headquarter- ],;,,) called on him to pass his opinion before
the doeiiment should he returned to the Krcnehman. lint he was
pu/xled for once to divine the object of the draught hefore him. lie
leaned upon his elhow with an expression indicating an unwillingness
to acknowledge him.-elf haflled, and repeating rneehanieallv the mini-
one, two, three; one and two. One. two, three; one and two."
Suddenly he -pram: to hi- feet and exclaimed :
'or todos los Santo.- !"
if to the chest, he opened it quickly and took from it a
package of papers, which he brought to the tahle with trembling hands
that indicated a su<iden excitement. Krom the [tackauc he produced
a -mall paper, much discolored, and smoothing it out, as he had done
the first, under investigation, he read from it., in an undertone. What
id was as I'ollov.
A lonir the outer const you'll
Lilt le circle- one, two, three.
While other circles in plain view
Are numbered only one and two.
The bayou makes a sudden bend
I)irec(|y where these circles end.
Thc.-o circles are hut hills of sand.
That, border on the island's -trand.
Two cro.-.-iiiL'S, >panned by bridge- each,
I n pl.-iincst road lead to the beach ;
r riie first that you will have fo do
Is to draw a line from two to two :
And if thro 1 a riddle you would see,
|)raw a line from one to three.
At intersection of the-e line-
I - -omet hiri^- that one seldom finds :
An iron pot, with an iron lid
henoaf h the cro-,- securelv hid
Hold- the treasure and the o- n |d
r raken |,v a seaman bold
Krom (he Spaniard,-" ample -tore
And bui'ied here on (Jalvex'- -bore.
264 GUY RAYMOND.
"Bonito's rhyme is explained at last," exclaimed the notary, af
satisfactorily examining the two papers. He even drew the s
hills,, numbered them like on the original, and crossed the lines
directed in the rhyme. He placed his pen on the intersection an
thought of the probable treasure that lay there, known, perhaps, only
to himself. In the hands of Bonito and the Frenchman separated
they would remain an enigma. He must return the sketch, but
Bonito would probably never think much of the rhyme if told it was
meaningless. He proceeded at once, however, to make a true copy
of each, which he carefully enveloped, endorsed and placed in the chest.
The notary had resumed his seat and was thinking of his discovery
of the secret contained in the two papers which had reached him from
such opposite quarters, when he beheld the jailor pass close by the
grated window with a glance that said unmistakably that he was to
be a visitor.
Bonito was greeted with the notary's characteristic politeness,
and motioned to the chair on the opposite side of the table.
"This is a dark hole, Senor Notario, with little more light than
one of my cells," said Bonito, glancing around, as he seated himself
and thrust out his short fat legs while his hands joined before his
corporosity. "Always in papers !" he continued as he ducked his head
and leered at the other from under his shaggy eyebrows.
"My business requires it, senor."
"No answer from New Orleans ?"
"None." i
"Antonio must be dead."
"Dead or living elsewhere."
"He was old old, senor. I am positive Antonio is dead."
"And the secret of his wealth has died with him ?"
"Unless that paper and its lines mean something. Did you ev
try to make the puzzle out?"
"I was looking at it only this morning, Don Manoel, and I could
get no light from it. It will ever be a mystery, I fear."
"The other papers throw no light upon it?"
"No senor. Merely letters ; letters of little importance."
"Es mala fortuna, ma-la-for-tuna, senor. There is only bad lu
for Bonito. The monte pio would have got a fortune out of th
paper. Senor, some men are born lucky; some unlucky."
"It is true, but are you not stretching a little your imaginati
when you place so much importance on a few jingling lines, foun
on a piece of soiled paper? It may be a mere doggerel written i
an idle moment by a buccaneer who was weaving a web of purr fancy
'
GUY RAYMOND. 265
"But old Antonio set great store upon the papers he left, and you
have them all here. The paper that speaks of gold and treasure is
the only one that hints at value, as you say; the others are all old
letters of little importance. The thing is truly a riddle and one
that will never be guessed, since it baffles your cunning."
"Is there a Frenchman, a prisoner, at the carcel? Something was
said nbout such a prisoner at headquarters this morning."
"He is free enough now. An impudent fellow, Notario; an \m-
pudent fellow, with a bad treacherous eye."
"He is from New Orleans ?"
"I think he said so."
And knew Antonio ?"
'Perhaps he did. Stupid ! I should have asked him."
"Well, make inquiry, Don Manoel, and let me know. It may be
that this Frenchman will be of service. But hint nothing about
Antonio's papers."
"Not a word. You well know, Senor Notario, that I am discreet,
if anything."
"A most excellent trait, Don Manoel."
"But you are not going?" continued the notary, as Bonito rose as
leave.
es, amigo mio; I would see this Frenchman at once, and then
reel may need me, for the town is in an uproar from the torea-
dors, and one of the outcomes of it all may be some lodgers for
Bonito." N
The jailer shuffled away down the street, after returning a polite
salutation from the obsequious little official.
The latter, left alone, seated himself at his table and leaned for-
ward in deep thought, knitting his brow and moving his head to and
fro, his lean, long ringers running through his scanty locks with each
forward motion. The notary was in a deep study, }^et no special
emotion was indexed by his immobile features.
* * *
When Ducio entered Linda's apartment he found that the parties,
from whom had come the voices, had vacated it. It was certainly
unoccupied, and Ducio began to wonder how they had effected an
egress, when he beheld the opening leading into the garden. To this
he directed his steps, and looking out, discovered the door in the wall
shutting out the view to the plaza. He remembered the garden from
+hc chance look accorded him a little earlier when he saw Josef a De la
Torre enter it from the street. Ducio's curiosity was now thoroughly
aroused. His natural disposition was to do something not altogether
JD
the cai
266 - GUY RAYMOND.
12fS of
:
proper when he felt himself to be unwatched with the belongings
others at his mercy. He had heard the jailer make his exit and tl
ladies were not visible. He scrutinized everything in the apartmei
then returned to the hall.
The latter was vacant with the mysterious lounge its only
oiture. He explored the rooms on the other side, but the usual scan-
tiness of effects of the Mexican household made a glanec sufficient
to .satisfy his taste for exploration. The lounge now claimed his at-
tention. He turned back the gaudily colored blanket and discovered
an ordinary mattress. A pull at the latter failed to move it. The
end of a fine hair cord, decorated with a tassel, protruded from the
bed. This Ducio seized, and drawing it towards him the end of the
mattress sprang up on a hinge and disclosed a narrow opening, down
whose dark depths the first two or three steps of a flight that lost
itself in the obscurity, were visible. Ducio shuddered involuntarily
at the forbidding look of this gloomy descent, yet he fairly chafed to
solve its mystery. Hurriedly casting a glance into the court, where
no one was to be seen, he returned and looked once more down the
dark passage. A light a light was necessary. He remembered that
Bonito held an extinguished candle in his hand when he had emerged
from the place only a short time before. A short search put him in
possession of perhaps the same candle used by the jailer. This Ducio
lighted and with a just perceptible exhibition of reluctance, placed
his foot upon the first step and, holding forward the light, endeavored
to see further down the stairway. But the feeble rays from the
dip lent no apparent aid to the daylight and the venturesome Creole
had placed his foot on the third and fourth steps with very little
satisfaction obtained from occular perception of the situation beneath
him.
His head had sunk below the floor level in his downward progress
when he remembered that he should close the lounge in order to defef
detection should the jailer return before his exploration would
finished. Reaching back under this sudden reflection, he pulled do
the mattress, which shut with a click. The sound startled him, but
urged by desperation, he began his descent step by step. On either
hand the masonry was solid and the passage narrow and plainly dis-
tinct. A few more steps and he had gained the floor of the vault.
The arch was low, almost within reach, and rested on rough walls
not more than two strides apart. With cautious tread he moved
along its length, when his leg struck against something sharp
that reached nearly to his knee. Lowering his candle he diseovri
a chests of medium size and near it a stool, upon the top of wliii
;;:;:
GUY RAYMOND. 2(57
were those evident marks of tallow that indicate wheiv a candle has
been made to stick. Ducio comprehending, melted a fraction of the
grease, and soon his candle \vas standing on the stool. He tried t he-
lid. It was locked. Retaking the candle, he directed its ravs into
the keyhole and peered after them. It was a spring lock. He re-
placed the candle, produced a hea\ y knife from his pocket and, hold-
ing it close to the light, opened two or three curious hlades. One
of these, long and slim, having a turn at the end, was selected and
introduced into the keyhole. After considerable manipulation the
lock yielded and Ducio raised the lid with his lef! hand. His eyes
were dazzled with the view of the contents. He seized the candle
and, holding it close to the interior, its rays were reflected by yellow
gold and bright silver in coins of different sizes. Several bags dis-
closed their precious contents by the sharp round edges' of the coins
that marked their sides. Kxcited. Ducio opened a blade of his knife
and cut into the largest bag, from which fell several Mexican doub-
loons. A trance-like expression fell upon his features as his eyes
became riveted upon the treasure, and his look \vas absolutely wild
when he glanced from the fortune of coins, to the right and to the left,
in nervous alarm as if in dread lest the genius of retribution were
upon his track to bring punishment for his temerity. His features
transferred to canvas as the crowding emotions of satisfaction, of
dread, of vexation played with the muscles and nerves of his swarthy
physiognomy, would have ranked with the chefs d'oeuvres of the mas-
ters. Here was gold, precious gold; but weighty and burdensome,
arid in a subterranean apartment with a single place of exit, to
psss which, even without such a precious burden would be to run a
dangerous gauntlet. The crime of knowledge would be scarcely less
than the crime of appropriation. But did not the strange fortune
which had led to this discovery intend that the eventuation of the
adventure should be as successful in his favor as had been the fortuity
which had directed his steps to the vault?
Such were Ducio's thoughts as the treasure filled his vision with a
maze of dazzling beauty that alternated between a crowd of sparkling
coins and a blended mass pf wealth embodying all the possfbilities
of ease, of pleasure, of dissipation and gratified desire. With hand
trembling from his excitement, he stuck the candle to the edge of the
chest and leaned forward to handle and inspect the fallen pieces,
but the nervous hand had failed to securely place the light upon its
narrow footing and it fell extinguished among the coins. The lid
fell forward with a bang, and candle and knife were securely locked
in the chest. Darkness, unspeakably dark, followed. Ducio, bewil-
268 GUY RAYMOND.
life of
dered, stood still for a moment to collect his ideas, but for the life
him he could not remember the direction to the stairs. He would
feel his way. Slowly he felt along the wall, and after many more
steps than those which it seemed he had taken before coming in con-
tact with the chest, he found a flight of steps. Ascending these his
head came in contact with a hard substance, and putting up his hand
he found it to be smooth rock.
What could it mean? Ducio pushed against it with all his
might; but it would not yield. In terror he called aloud, but the
dull echo of his voice in the narrow confine but mocked his appeal,
and finally he sat down to meditate.
* * * *
When Bonito returned from his visit to the notario, he brought
away the rhyming paper, which that official had pronounced mere
doggerel, not being willing to part with it as worthless, even on the
opinion of a person so respected for his powers of divination and
interpretation. When he reached the carcel he found that no one
was at home and the Frenchman was nowhere visible. He noticed
the disarrangemnt of the blanket on the lounge, but the mattress
was intact and he smoothed back the cover. He pulled from his
pocket the puzzling paper and hesitated as he glanced at it, as if in
doubt about some course he was to pursue.
"I must be more careful/' he muttered. "The Frenchman came
near seeing me come from the vault. I will wait until after supper
and when things are quiet I will slip down and put this jingling
paper in the chest. It may be of value yet. 'An iron pot with an
iron lid holds the treasure and the gold.' It sounds valuable if it
does jingle. But gold jingles, it does. Bonito will keep the paper."
Bonito's face was a study while thus soliloquizing. He put the
document back into his pocket and giving the blanket an extra
smoothing, he went about his duties.
It was about dark before he found it convenient to make a descent
to the vault. He had regretfully welcomed back his old prisoner,
Guy, and concluded his attentions for the day to his prisoners, when
he entered the hall, fastened the door, assured himself that all was
quiet and went to get a candle to light him below. He searched in
vain for the new dip he had used that same day and was forced to
procure another from Linda.
"Strange ! Very strange ! A new candle, not a- quarter of an
inch burned ! There is not a rat in Bexar, or I would swear a rat
had taken it off. A rat with no more than two legs, no doubt, and
GUY KAYMOND. 269
a candle costs a quartilla. There is no luck for Bonito. A quartilla
is not a fortune but quartillas make pesos."
Such were Bonito's half uttered thoughts as he prepared his
light and went through the necessary motions to gain admission to
the stairs down which Ducio had preceded him some hours before.
His slippers, down at the heel, made a clatter on the steps, where
shuffling could not be the antidote for looseness, and so annoyed the
now more than usually careful jailer that he discarded them and
proceeded in stocking feet.
Ducio's meditations were anything but pleasant after he had
essayed to raise the unaccountable flagstone that had so mysteriously
closed up the place of exit to the hall. He was buried alive with
untold treasure that was as valueless as so much clay unless he could
escape with it. or a portion of it, in some way. He could not tell
how soon, or how long deferred would be Bonito's next visit to the
vault. The chances were that he would certainly appear before
hunger and thirst would have time to claim a victim. Ducio deter-
mined to remain at the stairs, in order to take advantage of the first
opening of the trap to spring forth to liberty. The seductive charm
of the contents of the chest, which had at first so completely woven
a spell over his mind and so unnerved his physical being, had now
become lost in the yearning desire to escape from the subterranean
trap. The whole marshalled resources of his ingenuity could not
materialize a plan of escape, so he settled down to a waiting, which,
if not altogether patient, was not without some grounds for hope
of a speedy release. More than once, while seated upon the steps,
he heard the sound of feet, and several times a voice in a high key
penetrated from above as if struggling through the minutest crevice.
The darkness was oppressive and his patience began to wear away
so that he had a half mind to call aloud, when the inky blackness
of the vault retreated before a faint glimmer that revealed the out-
lines of the walls, the rugged arch and an opening at the further
end of the apartment. The latter revelation caused the truth to
dawn upon Ducio's mind that, in the darkness and his own confusion,
he had been trying to escape by a different flight of steps than that
by which he had descended from the hall. He half rose from his
seat, but crouched back again, in excited expectancy, as the light
became stronger and a noise made 'by its bearer greeted his ears.
Bonito soon waddled into sight with a candle elevated about the
height of his forehead, and with that expression of conscious cer-
tainty of Ix-ino- alone and un&een that leaves utterly unguarded the
indices of purpose that mark characteristic faces. A long breath
270 GUY RAYMOND.
of his
escaped him as he entered, caused doubtless by the exertion o
descent. Three or four of . his short strides brought him to where
stood the chest. Cocking his eye down at the stool he gave it
momentary inspection, then reaching down he stuck the candle
it, as Ducio had done, but with much more deliberation. Assuming
an erect position he put his hand in his jacket pocket, pulled it out,
felt again, then running it down in his trousers pocket he drew
forth a paper and bending over to the light, squinted at it.
"This is it," he muttered. "The notario thinks it only a jingle.
If it jingles, so does gold and silver. Old Antonio set store on it,
and Bonito will keep it. Keep it here, in this secret place that holds
what little he has. This is a convenient place. The padres who
built the mission made it for a different use, but it serves Bonito
well to hold his little change safe from prestimos and other thieveries/'
What an explosion there would have been, if the miser had been
conscious of the Creole's curious gaze and his mingled thoughts,
indicisive of a course, in which murder, flight, confession and decep-
tion came up for consideration.
Bonito, however, being ignorant of Ducio's supervision, deliber-
ately produced his keys and seating himself on the part of the stool
opposite to the candle, he opened the chest, folded the paper con-
cerning which he had begun his soliloquy and was about to place
it in among his treasure, when he let it fall to the floor, and seizing
the candle, held it so that its rays fell full upon the shining pesos
and disordered doubloons.
"Que diablo es esso !" he exclaimed, as he reached for the strange
knife. "For via de mi madre! A knife! The sack of doubloons
cut ! Ah ! My missing candle ! But a little more used," he said,
holding it up for inspection. "Could Linda have ventured down
here? No. This knife is strange. Santa Maria! How came it
be locked in the chest?"
"Ah ! The other stairs ! Christo ! Could anyone have fou
the secret of that slab in the floor of the cell ? Perhaps the toreador
Dios ! The toreador !"
With this Bonito hastily arose and made his way to the stairs
where Ducio had been sitting. The latter had debated the best
course to pursue, and while Bonito was making his last excited
remarks, he had pulled off his heavy boots with the intention of
stealing past Bonito and making his exit ahead of the jailer, and if
attacked the steel-clad heels of his boots would constitute a weapon
of defense. Bonito's movements, however, disarranged his plans, and
he crouched in the corner at the foot of the steps, to avoid being
wn
;
GUY KAY MOM D. 271
discovered. The old jailer was so intent upon his one purpose, and
so blinded by the deepening darkness as he moved from the light,
that he failed to observe the Creole and slowly mounted the stair,
until he could feel of the stone overhead, against which Ducio had
pushed so hard when he first tried to escape. Satisfied, but still
more deeply mystified by the result of his investigation, Bonito had
reached the last step in his descent, when Ducio dealt him a score of
blows on the head with his ponderous bootheel, causing him to fall
insensible to the floor.
Ducio hurriedly examined his victim with the aid of the light,
and then proceeding to the chest, he rapidly transferred to his pockets
as many doubloons as he could carry in them, and seizing a bag of
gold he was turning to leave when he espied the paper which he
had observed to fall from the jailor's hand. He picked it up and
thrust it in his pocket. With rapid strides he soon gained the top
of the stair leading to the hall. Here he was at a loss for a moment
what to do, as the trap refused to yield to his push; but the discovery
of a hair cord, similar to the one he had observed on the lounge,
solved the problem, for, pulling it, the trap lifted, and Ducio was soon
in the hall.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
The morning wore on after Jose's fruitlessly made efforts to get
the attention of the jailer, by repeated raps and loud calls, and he
began to wonder why Bonito had not made some provision for their
morning meal. Guy, who had not been much exercised by the cir-
cumstance, had also remarked the unusual neglect on the part of
the fussy master of the carcel. He had beguiled the time in invoking
the superstition of his fellow prisoner, by commenting on his dream
and leading the Aztec into involuntary interpretations of its several
features. Jose placed everything, not momentarily accountable, in
the category of the supernatural and attributed to some saint the
responsibility for the mental or physical status quo that seemed to
defy solution.
"I wish that I could dream of gold, senor. It brings luck to
dieam of money."
"Not in my case, Jose. Am I not in prison?"
For the moment, yes; but your luck will turn. See how easily
vou won the money at the Cabeza de Toro. You will be a rich man,
r. The good St. Anthony will bring you many blessings."
To a heretic? Jose, I am not even a Christian."
272 GUY KAYMOND.
"All the more proof of your luck, for any of the saints could
bring evil to you for your unbelief, and yet you live on, win money
as easily as drawing your breath, and everybody likes you."
"Is it not unlucky to dream of human skulls and of such dis-
agreeable places as caverns, where the damp air is heavy with the
noisome odors that are quite as deadly to human life as the venom
of the reptiles which infest the crevices and fissures of their jagged
walls? My dream is so impressed upon my memory that all the
horrid details of the grim picture which fancy drew, with hand un-
steadied by the rest of reason, is as plain to me as if in truth I
had walked the cavern and felt the mould yielding beneath my feet,
the webs of ages assail my cheek, while hissing serpents, darting
tongues of hate retreated to inner recesses of their dens."
"That was a vision of hell, senor. Saint Teresa saw as much
when the good God permitted her to go in person to the horrid place..
Father Ignacio read about it at spiritual reading in the camp before
the one in which you joined us on the San Geronimo."
"Did Saint Teresa have to raise a stone, as I did in my dream,
to effect an entrance?"
"Indeed, no. She was transported to the entrance, and read the
sign over the gate. Everything opened before her approach/
"Your saint then must have been able to settle a disputed question ;
to locate the place of future torment."
"She was, senor. The good father read from the same book thj
hell is in the center of the earth."
"That theory, Jose, would have intensely amused Laplace."
"Was he a friend of Senor Eaymond?"
"Not even an acquaintance. He was a great man, Jose, who did
not believe in the creation, as the Bible details it. He was tl
originator of the Nebular Hypothesis."
"And what is that, senor?"
"That the earth grew through untold millions of years froi
little atoms, which formed first around the minutest nucleus, until
it has reached its present proportions. That it was long a heated
body, but gradually cooled, until it was capable of producing vege-
tation and living creatures."
"It must have cooled first on the outside, senor."
"Quite correct, Jose."
"Then Saint Teresa was right. The center is still a place of fii
where the good God sends all heretics."
"You are a reasoner; at least on the question of location, bi
why should not bad Catholics be sent to the same place?"
:
lid
:
GUY KAYMOND. 273
"All Catholics have a chance, senor, but heretics burn forever."
"A. charitable view, certainly."
"Senor, your dream has set me to thinking. There is a legend
that the padres once used this carcel for religious purposes and, while
so using it, caused a vault to be dug that communciated from the
colls to the rooms across the court. I was pretty drunk, senor, when
thoy brought me here, quite drunk, for which my confessor will give
me a charity pennance, with a dozen or two Aves and Confiteors, no
doubt; but I was not too drunk to hear words and voices. Between
my confused mass of visions and ideas and the real surroundings it
was hard to discriminate, which is doubtless owing to the villainous
quality of the mescal, senor, which has become worse and worse since
those Gringo-Tejanos have kept out a fresh supply. These vinoteria
men have had to make the stuff stretch, and have been most unfor-
tunate in selecting their material for adulteration. But I remember
ilia; I heard a voice, fine and small, that seemed to penetrate from
the rocky floor: and then a tapping, as if the owner of the voice
was tapping for my a I tout ion. But with my willingness to answer
came curious shapes and grinning spectres, whose shadowy preesnce
clouded my reas<m and made mo powerless to separate the real from
tbe unreal. Such villainous mescal P
"It was your delirium. Jose. You were too drunk to dream and
evidently no voice could come from beneath these rocks."
"But one's wits are sharpened by mescal and a drunken man is
more apt to speak his true thoughts. Delirium leaves no impression
upon the memory."
"You are a born philosopher."
"Plied e ser, senor ; but el padre Ignacio has failed to discover
it. As I was going to say, the voice and the noise might not have
co mo from below, but I certainly heard them. Your dream of a
viiiill and tlio siono you removed to get admittance, put together
with my experience, (-a used me to think of the place beneath this
prison. That square stone, senor, may be the cover wbich conceals
Ihe entrance. You see it is different and larger than all the rest."
"True, but was there an entrance from this cell?"
"More than probable. This is the first to open on the court, and
as the object must have been to connect the cells with the rooms
it\ less digging would be necessary to reach the first cell."
"A practical conclusion, I must confess; but what puzzles me
is (o divine the utility of Ibis underground passageway."
"II. is OIK- of |he mysf cries thai are buried with the first fathers
who ramo to convert the Indians. They were a tough set to manage,
according to the records, and the padres had to use many metho
to bring them to the faith. They put the vault to good use, seno
or they would not have made it."
"Jose, you have excited my curiosity. We must lift this ston
and see if there is anything under it besides solid earth."
"That is not possible senor, with our fingers alone to work with
and then I have a dread that tells me no good will be coming to
for trying to pry into the secrets of the holy dead."
"Having none of your dread or superstitions to deter me, 1 wil
while away the dulls hours of this confinement by picking around
this stone, even at the risk of ruining this pretty knife," said Guy,
rising from his recumbent position and drawing forth a handsome
dagger from the inner side of his jacket.
"From the monte pio's/' said Jose, eyeing the weapon.
"Yes, from the monte pio's, and he charged me a pretty price
for it."
Guy with his usual determination knelt at once upon the damp
stone floor and introducing the knife into the dirt-filled spaces
parting the square flag from the irregular and smaller fellows that
surrounded it, he began to clean them out, in order to ascertain the
thickness of the stone, and to enable him to get if possible a purchase
to force it from position. He worked away steadily and patiently
watched by the major domo with a good deal of interest. The latt
would occasionally utter an admonition in regard to the temerity
the young American in endeavoring to probe mysteries which mu
evoke the indignation of the sacred shades that linger amid t
haunts, once the scenes of their labors in the flesh.
The work was necessarily slow and but for the gratification su
plied by occupation that is ever a boon to a prisoner, he woul
have ceased the almost hopeless attempt before the lapse of an hour.
Noon had come and no jailer had made his appearance. Guy phil
phized and worked on, while his more animal companion had sever
times dozed off into a restless slumber, with occasional awakenin
and maledictions upon the head of the tardy Bonito.
At length the worker was rewarded by the discovery that h
could raise a stone, next to the flag, under which was supposed to li
the mystery. Its displacement gave the required purchase on on<
sido of the flag, and by diligent work, he soon had a place in which
to insert each hand under ilic lower face of the latter. He looked
at the Mexican, with the idea to ask his assistance, but that worthy
was breathing heavily in slnmher; then summoning all his resolu
tion he stooped, and placing his hands under its edge, the hea
iu-
"
GUY RAYMOND. 275
stone moved under his muscular grasp and in another moment it
was edge up, disclosing to the startled Guy an aperture about twenty
four inches square, down which nothing- greeted his eye but two or
three steps emerging from the inky darkness of the lower depth.
Guy's first thought was to awaken Jose; but he reconsidered the
intention the next moment. Balancing the stone in its position, he
lighted the bit of candle left from the night before and cautiously
commenced the descent of the stairs. A slight tremor passed through
his frame as the damp air very sensibly asserted itself, and sug-
gested a long deserted apartment, perhaps unused by any then living
beings and, from the major domo's standpoint, a, resort for the
ghosts of the good padres who had constructed it. The miserable
light but faintly revealed the outlines of the grimy walls as the
adventurer moved slowly over the flags. His foot encountered some-
thing soft, when, stooping down, he beheld the fat form of a man
stretched upon the floor. The light was placed close to the face
and Guy was not mistaken in recognizing the features of Bonito.
The prostrate man was breathing heavily, but made no movement
upon being touched or pinched.
"What mystery can this be?" thought Guy. "This accounts for
Bonito's absence."
His eyes becoming more accustomed to the darkness he beheld
1 ie chest a little further on, and being curious to know where the
other entrance could be, he proceeded towards the further end. But
the chest did not fail to arrest him. Its open lid disclosed the
precious contents, and Guy stood amazed, as he bent forward and
realized the magnitude of the find. But he was not so entranced as
was Ducio in his discovery as to lose the idea, paramount but a
moment before, of solving the mystery of Bonito's presence and
present condition. He mechanically closed the chest and passed
to the further end of the vault. Here the discovery of the steps
was scarcely made before he began to ascend, after placing his light
on the floor, and was in a moment within reach of the obstruction
that barred his exit. A hard push, however, caused the barrier to
move, and the astonished Guy found himself in the well known
hall of the jailer's domicil. He took in the ingenuous disposition
of the lounge., arranged to evade suspicion of what existed beneath,
but expended only a moment in inspecting the trap. Familiar with
tin 1 rooms, he hastened to the ;i|arf incut where Bonito slept and
where were gathered the odds and ends peculiarly his own. Here he
opened a cupboard and taking a small earthen jug from the shelf
IK- hastily returned to the hall and disappeared down the vault steps,
276 GUY RAYMOND.
nearly
closing the trap behind him. The little flame of the candle nearly
went out in his haste to raise it and hurry on to where Bonito lay.
A groan from the latter indicated to Guy that the old jailer was on
the way to consciousness. But the next movements of Guy indicated
he had matured within the short time a methodical mode of pro-
cedure, calculated to cause his discovery to include, with rescue of
the jailer, a preservation of the secret of the hiding place of his
pesos and doubloons, doubtless accumulated by steadfast saving of
reals throughout years of self-denial. Placing the jug and candle on
the stool, which he moved from near the chest to the side of Bonito,
Guy hastened back to the cell. Jose was still snoring as when he
had left him. Seizing the edges of the heavy stone he slowly lowered
it until, resting it on his shoulders, it came down at last into the
exact place from which he had so lately raised it. His efforts were
now made to resuscitate the jailer.
"This mescal will revive him," thought Guy, pouring some of the
contents of the jug into Bonito's mouth, which he forced open with
his thumb and finger.
Bonito strangled so from the liquor that his restorer began to
fear he had administered a fatal dose; but the exertion which it
caused created a reaction highly favorable, for the patient was soon
in a sitting- position, glaring wildly at the other.
"Why did you hit me so hard on my head?" were the first words
succeeding consciousness.
"You are wrong, Bonito. I found you as you were, and only for
this mescal you would not now be able to talk."
"Is it you, senor? I thought it was the other, the toreador, who
had found the passage from the cell, who robbed and beat me 01
the head until I was like one dead. Oh, how could you do it?"
"It was not I, Bonito. The fellow you call toreador is safe in
his cell. I discovered this place by accident and just in time to
serve you. I have found my way to your room, procured this jug
from your own cupboard and brought it here to bring you back
your senses."
"And my secret! Oh, Dios! Dios!"
Safe with me, amigo. I have discovered all, but the passage
the cell is closed and none shares my discovery."
"But he who struck me? What of him? He has robbed me an<
escaped. Oh! Oh! Oh!"
"No, Bonito. All seems safe. The chest is there, if that be what
you mean. It is there and closed."
"And empty. Dios! Dios!"
GUY BAYMOND. 277
"Come let me help you up. You can inspect your chest and "
"Know my ruin. Dios ! Dios !"
The .old fellow was still dazed from the effects of the blows, but
staggered to the chest, assisted by the strong arm of the otlicr. H<>
stooped to raise the lid, and hesitated, looking at Guy with no
uncertain look, expressive of his reluctance to let another eye glnn<r
upon the contents. Guy interpreted its moaning and made an excuse
to go to the steps to see if he had properly replaced the stone.
The miser raised the lid and throwing up his hands, muttered
in subdued anguish:
"The bag that held the brightest doubloons gone! Oh, Dios!
Fifteen hundred and one ! Fifteen hundred and one ! Gone gone !"
The lid went down with a bang. Bonito drew the key and placed
it in his pocket.
The time had now arrived to leave the vault, as both were im-
patient to be out of it. Bonito was highly exercised to think that
some one else wa with him in his hiding place, while Guy was
anxious to get out for no very definite reasons, unless it was that
he had fasted since the evening previous. The jailer had so far
recovered his strength as to crawl up unassisted in advance of Guy
and to open the trap, which he was gratified to think the other did
not know how to do.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
?he enthusiasm prevailing in the city, by reason of the presence
of the toreadors, was not confined to the masses, but found a lodge-
ment in breasts of the notables, civic and military, as well as the
religious. The mere procession through the streets of the favorites,
who were to give them diversion of a character second to none to be
obtained from a whole calendar of fiestas, aroused the joys of antici-
pation that found stimulation in the contemplation of the actors,
their fantastic dress and peculiar antics. The grated windows of
the residences framed faces of senoritas, fair or dusky as the Cauca-
sian or aboriginal blood predominated, while in one quarter the
balcony of a more pretentious dwelling held a bevy of ladies, all
intent upon the one common purpose, animating the population.
To this latter desirable position had repaired several persons
who were friends of the family of Don Fermin Casiano, ftie occupants
and owners of flic property, and among them was Beatrice Navarro.
Th" I;I!!<T*S ('diK'tition had, to a degree, eradicated Mexican tastes,
and caused her ideas of the proprieties t to assimilate to the American
278 GUY RAYMOND.
standard. But on this particular day Beatrice felt the need of
some diversion that would chase away an oppression more unen-
durable than positive pain, and more unwelcome than any shock the
most delicate sense of propriety could sustain. Her communication
to Guy had remained unanswered, although she had assurances of
its delivery, and she found herself feverish from an excitement inci-
dent to disappointment and doubt which, like portentous clouds, had
suddenly risen to obscure the horizon of a new found happiness.
She tried to console herself by the reflection that he was not worthy
of her love, if he were incapable of appreciating her explanation
of the unfortunate interview with her father; but excuses for him
would assert themselves at every turn as the subject was again and
again revolved in her mind. She felt^that an outing would do her
good and resolved to repair to Don Fermin's to see the crowd and
the toreadors, a diversion that would perhaps lead her from her
mental depression. And so it proved; for even before the gay horse-
men made their appearance, the simple remarks of the senoritas,
chatting and tittering like so many magpies, amused her to a degree
and banished the last vestige of the feeling which had brought her
from home. The toreadors paid special attention to the balcony
with its throng of beauties, and Beatrice looked with increased
interest as one of the riders gave her an earnest salutation that
seemed strangely familiar. She gazed after the graceful cavalier
far up the street until she saw him dismount and enter a house,
accompanied by another familiar form, she could not be mistaken,
by Jose, the major domo.
Across the street two familiar female figures, escorted by
officer, next attracted her attention. A smile of recognition from
Linda was followed by a signal to ascend. The latter drew Josef;
attention to the invitation. The Senorita De la Torre flushed
little on beholding Beatrice and gave a look of inquiry to N the li
officer, who was no other than Pedro, the lieutenant of the staff.
"Our house is near at hand," said Josefa. "Why join that tit
ing crowd?"
"The more the merrier, senorita," suggested the lieutenant. "A
see! Don Fermin is calling to us."
Josefa reluctantly allowed herself to be conducted to the balco
The greeting, between herself and Beatrice accorded with the strained
relations which had so recently intervened to further mark the!
dissimilarity in character.
Linda, warm and true in her /nature, embraced her friend a
nestled close by her side.
led
:
GUY RAYMOND. 279
"I heard you were here, Beatrice. But the toreadors have passed."
"But will return this way."
"Do you know the lieutenant?"
"Yes." Beatrice turned and accorded him a recognition.
The officer doffed his cap and extended his hand in a salute.
"The Senoriia Navarro had an excellent view of the toreadors
from this portico," he said, by way of prefacing a conversation.
"Don Fermin very thoughtfully invited me. You know he is
very enthusiastic over such exhibitions, and these toreadors are said
to In 1 acquaintances of his."
"Say you so ? Ah ! Yes. One of them, the masquerader, he
doubtless knows."
"But all are masqueraders, are they not, in their assumed char-
acters."
"The senorita is correct, but one of the toreadors is a San An-
tonian, and wears his present garb to conceal his identity. He will
be a military prisoner before he will have finished his ride."
Beatrice at once recalled the salutation she had received from the
graceful rider and strove vainly to place him among her acquaintances
of the city. Forewarned of the intention to arrest, she gave no
indication of the thoughts which entered her mind. Her next words
were intended to draw the name of the masquerader from the lieuten-
ant's lips.
"Is it a crime to play toreador?"
"If the play be made to conceal the presence of a spy."
The officer's words left no doubt in Beatrice's mind that the spy
was liuiz, for she now recalled the form and bearing of the cavalier
who had saluted her, and was satisfied that he was no other than
her impulsive friend, who had gone over to the Texans. Josefa,
who had heard the conversation, entertained the same suspicion,
but, not having seen the toreadors, it remained a suspicion, while
she wavered between two sensations, one a vengeful hope thai he be
captured, the other a tender recollection of their past intercourse.
"There will be one other arrest made today which may surprise.
you ladies, if indeed it does not cause you much regret," continued
the lieutenant, in a tone of voice indicating the satisfaction that such
a proceeding would all'ord him.
'Cause me regret?" asked Josefa.
'And me?" queried Beatrice as the officer gave her a meaning
look.
"Roth of you/' he replied.
"I)on't. keep them wondering, senor," said Linda. "Who is it?"
rUY RAYMOND.
".It is no secret, senorita mia. It is the young American w
is staying with Father Ignacio."
"Is he, too, a spy?" demanded Josef a, in a sarcastic tone.
"He may be; but his arrest will hp for murder."
Beatrice had hoard, but could command no voice for questio
nor an expression to conceal interest and anxiety. She therefore
remained silent with averted face but with eager ears to catch every
word. Josef a noticed her manner and divined her solicitude. It
afforded an opportunity to a von go herself on her rival and a demoni-
acal feeling at once possessed her.
"Is his name Raymond ?" she asked, glancing her black, fiery eyes
alternately from the officer to Beatrice.
"Raymond. You are quite correct, senorita. He has been a
frequent caller at your house."
"And mine, too," said Linda. "He is a noble fellow and as
in IK vent of murder as myself."
"Can you tell us, senor, who was his victim?"
"One Vasquez; a low fellow who was a witness against this
American for the murder of another Vasquez, the witness' brother."
"A regular murderer!" exclaimed Josefa.
"Josef a !" remonstrated Linda. "It can only be suspicion. A
thousand- witnesses could not change my faith in Senor Raymond'!
honor." \
"De veras!" exclaimed the lieutenant. "You are an eloque
champion of this enemy of Mexicans."
"Then his arrest is to be made on the score of enmity to Mexico,
and the charge of murder is but a convenient subterfuge to get him
into custody," said Beatrice, AV!IO had in a measure regained
equanimity.
"I thought the Senorita Navarro would soon come to the defe:
of this American paragon. In fact, it was my belief that he
made the greater impression on her, for rumor has been busy
"Rumor that deals in unmanly twaddle would never have had
an origin were it not for tongues that wag obedient to brainl(
heads," interrupted Beatrice. "Have a care, senor, that this rui
is not traceable to yourself."
"Mil jL'Tacias, senorita, for the compliment," said the officer wit
a confused giggle.
"Will Srnor Raymond be sent to the carcel," asked Linda.
"Doubtless. But with such a. friend in the person of the jail(
daughter i! would, perhaps, he best to confine him elsewhere."
'No Tear of me, senor. My father is a faithful jailer and
A
I
ml
him
I
"XT,
GUY RAYMOND. 281
only way in which I could show friendship for a prisoner would be
in supplying some little things to relieve the discomforts of a prison
cell."
"A murderer should have no comforts. The proofs against this
American are positive, and beyond every doubt he will be shot before
many days for the murder of the Yasquez brothers."
"The court has evidently prejudged the case in accordance with
Mexican justice/' said Beatrice.
"Then it is true, senorita, that your American schooling has
blotted out all love for your own race."
"On the contrary, my education has caused a revelation of the
deficiencies which exist in Mexican ethics, and I would lift our
people from a depth of ignorance and superstition that is a barrier
to advancement. Mexican justice is at best a farce and its juris-
prudence an anomaly."
"This is rank treason. I hope, senorita, that these are not the
sentiments of your father."
"If you would be posted, senor, I refer you to Don Juan," said
Beatrice angrily. Then turning away, she indicated by her manner
that their conversation must end.
Josefa's eyes sparkled with excitement and her whole expression
evinced a morbid satisfaction at the perturbation of Beatrice. She
engaged the lieutenant in conversation on subjects of town news
and scandals, knowing that such topics were the more acceptable
to his shallow mind. She flattered him by commenting on the bril-
liancy of his new uniform and impressing him with the idea of the
high importance she attached to his position on the staff. By her
arts she soon controlled the will of her companion and ended by
drawing from him the information that Manuel Ruiz was the name
of the toreador to be arrested.
When the sightseers left Don Fermin's balcony Linda accom-
p; nied Beatrice to her home, while Josef a secured the escort of the
lieutenant, who had been completely ensnared by her wiles. He left
lif-r at her door, with assurances of his lasting allegiance.
Josefa's expression was one of contempt as she closed the door
and muttered:
"The vain little monkey! There is more of the man in Ruiz's
little finger than in his whole shrivelled anatomy."
She proceeded at once to her own room, full of the thought of
the danger attending Ruiz's presence in the city and wavering be-
tween impressions, the one of gratified revenge, the other of appre-
hension lest the fate of the spy once consummated would cause a
282 GUY RAYMOND.
lothing
Her, in
reaction productive of ceaseless remorse that she had clone nothing
to avert the catastrophe.
With these reflections she descended to the sitting room, where,
to her astonishment, she beheld the object of her thoughts standing
ready to receive her. Ruiz smiled broadly at her startled manner, in
which were represented a variety of emotions.
"What! You here?"
"And at your mercy."
"My mercy?"
"Yours. I am hunted by the military and if captured will be
convicted as a spy."
"Why did you seek this house as an asylum? Has your treat-
ment of at least one of its inmates laid us under contribution for
gratitude?"
"You do me injustice, Josefa, in alluding to our
"Return not to that subject, Senor Ruiz. Your perfidity in that
instance has a fit sequel in your treason to your country."
"I am not a traitor, but a revolutionist."
"A distinction very questionable in your case."
"A truce to politics, Josefa. This badinage wall lead to a
quarrel, and quarrelling is now out of the question. I am here, in
some danger, and ask your tolerance if not your hospitality until
the darkness will permit my exit unobserved by the military hounds
on my trail. You can accord this much to one who has loved you,
who loves you now, despite the barrier which you yourself raised
between us. But for your own act there would not be
"I command you by the hope you have of escape from
vengeance of your betrayed country, to make no allusion to the
Let me not be compelled to again repeat this injunction."
"As you will, Josefa. I would not arouse in you remorse."
"You mean indignation."
"I would not disturb you by any unwelcome emotion. On
contrary, I am ready to renew that allegiance once so happily borne,
if its renewal could restore intact in your bosom the passion which
was half my existence."
"A traitor to talk of allegiance!"
"Nay, Josefa, I disclaim "
"A recreant, appealing to a passion he killed, that its revival
save his worthless life !"
"Josefa ! By all the saints ! You are passing the bounds
your own convictions. You will regret your words."
"Could a woman of spirit say less ? In these veins courses diffei
GUY RAYMOND. 283
blood from that which pulsates in a Navarro. You have mistaken
your asylum, or have yet to learn the character of Josefa De la
Torre." '
"This is my asylum from necessity. It was the nearest at hand
after becoming aware of my danger. I will say no more, as it but
tends to irritate you. So soon as night comes I will relieve you of
my presence. My enemies may recognize me, but before they effect
my capture some of them will precede me to purgatory. You have
called me traitor and recreant, but I shall never believe that you
doubt my courage."
Ruiz seated himself by the grated window and leaned his head
forward in deliberation. Josefa watched him for a moment, then
left the apartment to find her mother. The latter noted her daugh-
ter's excitement, and had heard the tones of the conversation in the
sitting room, but was not prepared for the reversion of feeling indi-
cated by Josefas' next words addressed to her.
"How long has he been here?"
"Since one o'clock."
"Without dinner?"
"Without dinner."
"Then, mother, prepare him something to eat and take it to him.
He will leave at dark." Then aside she said : "The miscreant ! He
should be made to suffer more than the pangs of hunger."
CHAPTER XXXIX.
dz's first precaution after leaving the house of the De la Torre's
was to hunt up his cousin, the chief of the toreadors, and to invoke
his aid in a further disguise to enable him to escape detection from
the Argus-eyed military. Senor Trevino had pitched his tent on the
Alameda and himself and attendants were discussing the merits of
the savory contents of a pot that swung above a small fire burning
close to the base of one of the tall cottonwoods that lined the northern
edge of the avenue.
"Ruiz as I live!" he exclaimed, as Manuel, emerging from the
darkness, laid his hand softly on his cousin's shoulder.
"N~o, cousin mine. I am Jose, until more propitious times will
allow me to change my identity and my clothes. Ruiz is doubtless
languishing in the carcel, having been detected in his masquerading
as a toreador."
"Es verdad. They took him on the Plaza de Armas, but he was
284 GUY EAYMOND.
so beastly drunk that it is a question if he comprehended their
action."
"He was not then discovered to be the major domo?"
"No. They thought they had their man."
"Then I will have little trouble to escape arrest, but to make
surer, you must use your skill to further disguise my features."
"With all my heart; but join us in our supper. The night is
before us in which to fully transform you into any shape you desire."
"Thanks for your invitation, but the Senora De la Torre has
forestalled you by giving me a regular feast, not a half hour ago/'
"Who was that youth who came up just behind you?" asked
Trevino. "He paused as if he wished to speak."
"I did not notice him," replied Manuel.
"Then he did not come with you?"
"No. I was alone."
"He certainly followed you. His eyes were upon you sharply
and while I was expecting him to speak he turned down the Alameda."
"Perhaps a spy/
"A neatly dressed one."
We will leave Euiz to be metamorphosed into a shape satisfactory
to himself by the deft hands and skilled art of his cousin, and relate
the proceedings of the almost demoralized Ducio, after his exit from
the vault where he had left the jailer for dead.
He remained in the hall long enough to transfer the treasure
from the bag to the several pockets of his clothing. He found diffi-
culty in arranging the coins so that they would not disclose their
bulky presence, and after some hesitation he repaired to the jailer's
apartment, as if in quest of some means to better conceal his boot}'.
Seizing something hanging above the bed, and which proved to be
one of Bonito's shirts, he transferred a portion of the gold back to
the sack and enveloped it in the ample folds of the garment, fash-
ioning it into as neat a bundle as the necessity for haste would -permit.
The exit from the place effected, Ducio found that his apprehensions
were not abated. The consciousness of guilt, weighted by the posses-
sion of gold of yet unestimated value, increased his trepidation
when, finding himself in the street, he imagined the encountering
eyes of people were reading his secret. He would have given half
his gold for the friendly shield of darkness, which was fully an hour
and a half distant. Candelario's door was the first refuge that
offered. He entered the place and finding it vacant, seated himself,
pl.'iring his bundle on the bench next to the wall. Being hungry,
lie called for a supper, and during the course of the meal his mind
GUY RAYMOND. 285
was full of his recent adventure. Fortune seemed to be favoring him ;
yet he was not satisfied with his luck. It brought fears with its gold.
The hidden treasure alluded to in Mr. Trigg's revelation, and of
which the mysterious paper was supposed to be the index, was now
a secondary consideration, if not wholly surrendered as an attraction
in the glowing magnificence of the fortune in the vault. But he
was villain enough to understand the necessity of acting naturally
in the pending emergency to avoid furnishing grounds for suspicion.
Therefore he tarried in the restauranr only a few moments after his
deliberate consumption of the repast. On his exit the plaza stretched
before him with but few pedestrians other than several rebosaed
forms on their way to, find entering the side portal of San Fernando.
Ducio, quick to conceive, bent his steps to the church and entered,
with SPV(-TMI females, the ever open door of the edifice. With a
purpose now well defined his countenance assumed a calm, if not
sanctimonious, expression as he approached the fount and dipped
his finger in the holy water. He reverently crossed himself, made
rhe genuflection, and knelt upon the flags. His head bent forward
in mock deyolion as mental visions of gold, the vault and Bonito's
Mien form presenter] themselves in silent panorama. Here he resolved
to wait his turn for confession, despite the pain endured from the
contact of ihe hard stone floor with knees so unaccustomed to such
experience.
Night fell over the city before Ducio was seen to leave the church.
The darkness was sufficient to gratify the cravings for concealment
of even greater villainy than his. The gloom that overhung the
plaza was relieved by but few glimmers from the houses; the monte
pio's shop showing the most pretentious illumination. Down the
O^lle de la Carcel the lidit from the doors of the Cabeza de Toro
spanned the street and v/as reflected from the opposite walls, dis-
closing passersby and a knot of men, near the door, the latter
assemblage varying in size as fresh arrivals came up or individuals
by twos and threes entered the place.
An hour later the crowd of frequenters had become large and
continued to increase as the night wore on. The quiet Mexican
character of the assemblage was apparent from the absence of boister-
onsness or hilarity, save an instance of drunkenness, where the inebri-
ate would give vent to an occasional shout, followed by the cry of
"Mneron los Tejanos."
"Mescal has made that fellow patriotic," said a bystander.
r onder it is that there are not more patriots of his sort tonight.
" wt
19-r
286 GUY RAYMOND.
for the vinoterias have been well patronized during the day/'
another.
"One of the toreadors was dead drunk, when for some reason
was arrested and put in jail/'
"He was only playing toreador/' said a third. "He was
other than Ruiz, who went over to the Texans."
"Then he is a spy/' said a youth, whose slight figure was mould
in a neat suit, set off by a scarlet sash.
"And will he shot/' said the first.
The latter was apparently a man of advanced middle age, and
wore a long beard and mustache. His clothes were ill-fitting and he
had a slight stoop that he occasionally tried to correct by carrying
back his shoulders.
"You are quite right. Death is the fate of spies," said another,
who joined the party just in time to learn the drift of the conversa-
tion. His Spanish was indifferent, and as he moved closer to the
door the light revealed the features of Ducio Halfen.
The individual with the long beard gazed intently at the Creole
as he made the remark, and slightly started as he got a view of his
face.
"You spoke feelingly, senor/' he said to Ducio. "Perhaps you
have a grudge against this fellow this spy this what's his name ?"
"Ruiz Manuel Ruiz," replied Ducio.
"An enemy of yours, perhaps."
"No, not an enemy. I know little of him."
"Then how did you know so much of his arrest?"
"I heard it at headquarters."
"Then Jose was correct," said the fellow with the long beard
and the stoop, in an undertone.
The two entered the place where monte was being dealt to
crowd of bettors. The youth with the scarlet sash followed, and as
he came under the rays of the stronger light the fellow with the
long heard caught his eye, then took in his whole person in one
searching glance.
"For Dios!" he thought. "Is this the fellow who followed
in the Alameda?"
Ducio had come for no fixed purpose, and nearing a table
loked on with much interest at the progress of the game. The other
kept near to him, but less interested in monte, he scanned the faces
of the crowd without indulging in speech. Several of the betto
were military men, and among them, seated at one end of the tabl
\JO JUU
.a me ?"
)ne
:
GUY EAYMOND. 287
was the little lieutenant of the staff. Behind ilie dealer was the well
known face of the notary, who was a rare visitor to the locality. He
was quietly watching the varying luck of the players, while he plied
his cigarette with an evident air of enjoyment.
"You look like you wanted to bet, senor," said a voice close to
Ducio's ear. He turned and saw that his companion with the long
beard had addressed him.
"I would like to bet and have been watching the run of the cards
to get a hang of the game.'
"Bet on the seven and every time you lose, double your bet on
the same card," said the other.
"I will try your method, amigo. The seven, you say?"
".e seven. Quick, before he draws a card."
ucio placed a doubloon on the seven.
e second play he lost. He put down two doubloons. Again
he lost.
doubloons were now placed on the seven.
his time the cards did not fail him. Ducio won. He raked
gold, the winner of one doubloon.
think 111 change the method, amigo. I won't confine myself
one card. It is too slow."
Diicio took the game haphazard; now betting on this or that card,
vvitli some success at first, but later his luck was bad and he lost
:!<>;ivi]y. He became the observed of all, which added to his plainly
apparent agitation. He nervously placed his hand in another pocket
and drew forth a handful of gold, laid it on the table and counted
it aside with a finger. Unobserved to himself, he had pulled forth
the paper rhyme which Bonito had dropped in the vault in his aston-
ishment at the condition of his chest of treasure, and 'which Ducio
had secured.
The sight of this paper caused an exclamation from the notary,
who recognized it as the one Bonito had brought to him that very
day to interpret. As Ducio seemed to pay little attention to the docu-
ment, the notary leaned forward to place a real on a card, and before
withdrawing his hand surreptitiously secured the paper. The man
with the long beard noticed the whole proceeding and divined that
the notary's object in betting was to get an opportunity to secure the
paper dropped by Ducio. The latter's losses had become so great
ihat lie decided to bet no more, and withdrew from the monto table.
A touch on the shoulder caused him to face his unknown adviser at
inning of the play,
ou had better stuck to the seven."
,,
288 GUY RAYMOND.
"'It looks that way now."
"Your losses are heavy."
"No matter. I have enough."
"Didn't you lose a paper?"
"A paper?"
"Yes, when you pulled out the last money."
"I remember it must have been perhaps it is yet on the te
"No, I saw a man steal it. You were so engrossed in your game
you did not notice him when he secured it."
"What could he have wanted with that paper?"
"Who knows? He seemed to know what it was the moment you
dropped it, for he gave a grunt of surprise and a look clearly indi-
cating that he coveted its possession."
"Show me the man."
"The little fellow back of the dealer. Not the slight fellow with
the red sash, the other. He is a notary and an expert in papers."
"I'll see this notary," said Ducio, moving in the direction of
the subject of their conversation.
In order to reach the position behind the monte dealer it was
necssary for Ducio to go to his right or left around the crowd that
encircled the table. He accordingly elbowed his way, with the best
haste he could make, to the right and in a moment found himself
in the position lately occupied by the notary. But that worthy was
noy/here to be seen. Ducio was at a loss to account for the disap-
pearance and, in his dilemma as to how to proceed, naturally turned
in quest of his quondam acquaintance with the long beard, who had
witnessed the surreptitious appropriation of the paper. Here again
he was disappointed, for the latter also had vanished or was indis-
tinguishable in the crowd. Finding a further search for both parties
fruitless he left the Cabeza de Toro and crossed the street to the
vinoteria.
The witness to the abstraction of the paper was also an observer
of the movemnts of the abstractor and of Ducio as he hastened to
get to the rear of the table. The former having risked detection to
possess the paper was on the qui vive to detect whatever of demon-
stration might be made by the party despoiled, while he, ostensibly,
was deeply interested in the game, Ducio's look, after having been
apprised of the theft and his subsequent movement were duly ob-
served and were the signals for prompt action to secure an escape.
The diminutive form of the decipherer of enigmas found less diffi-
culty in moving through a crowd than did the well developed figure
of the creole. He glided away with the ease of a snake, and by the
GUY RAYMOND. 289
time his pursuer was wondering at his disappearance he stood without
the door contiguous to the spot where Vasquez dropped a portion of
the money,, the possession of which caused his murder. Here lie
drew himself up close behind one of the projections in the wall of
the carcel, where he could command a view of the door whence he
had just issued. The fellow with the long beard followed the course
of the notary and gained the street just as the latter stepped into
the shadow of the abutment.
Feigning indifference he passed around the corner of the carcel,
but glided back stealthily and took a position unobserved behind a
corresponding projection a few feet from the other's position. A
moment later Ducio sallied forth as already stated, and as he slowly
d the two concealed men he said aloud in English:
"The fellow must have known the value of the paper. Who
knows? He might be the Portuguese that old Trigg talked about.
I Fa! Mr. Guy Raymond, who ever you are, the hidden gold to which
is | a per is a key will be known to a score at this rate/'
he notary watched Ducio until he was well into the vinoteria,
he emerged from his hiding place and stood for a while as if
uncertain of his next movement.
'This must be the Frenchman. How came he with both papers?
The rhyme and the diagram. Bonito must have dropped it. But
how strange that it <hould have come into his possession! A chance
in a million! That strange fellow with the long beard told him I
had secured the paper and he is after me. He talked as he passed
>ut, but not in French. If Bonito has lost it I will draw it out of
eeping an eye on the vinoteria the notary passed on to the
and to his home.
am getting into a secret," said the man with the long beard,
B.i he lei' i his hiding place. "This rascally Creole who is playing
Frenchman has been up to some devilment. Where could he have
g'otten all that gold? He mentioned old Mr. Trigg's name and Senor
tnond's. lie said that the paper was a key to gold. And this
little slippery iiolary. He spoke of Bonito as having been in posses-
sion of (his paper. What can it all mean? Perhaps my cousin, the
ton-ador can help me unravel the mystery. I am as sure there is ( rim
at the hottom of it, as 1 am thai m\ name is Manuel Unix/'
B Riii/ mined awav the young man with ihe red sash moved out
e opposite shadow.
ere is a, pretty business." he said. "Crime and gold ! A secret!
</s name; (Juy Raymond's. The notary, too, is mixed in this
290 GUY RAYMOND.
,
strange plot that promises to develop rascality if nothing more,
what I've heard there is yet nothing to condemn in Ruiz. He, i
seems, is not arrested yet in spite of reports to the contrary. This
tall, dark fellow whom the notary called a Frenchman is the same
I saw yesterday when I was about to enter Linda's gate. What devi
are men ! They use darkness to practice their villainy. The Frenc
man certainly had a supply of gold, and Ruiz thinks he stole it."
CHAPTER XL.
When Guy and Bonito were out of the vault the latter began to
feel how unwelcome was the thought that another, in fact two other
persons, knew of the hiding place of his treasure. He looked at his
rescuer, mentally hoping that he would soon be shot by the authori-
ties. Yet even that eventuation would not wipe out the difficulty,
for his unknown assailant had escaped and was at large with a portion
of his gold and was doubtless premeditating a second raid for a new
supply or a total sweep of the savings of a lifetime.
"Senor, you must go back to your cell," lie said with a sigh. "I
only wish they would try you shortly and shoot you."
'"Shoot me ! Bonito."
"Shoot you, senor. You know too much."
"But with me, Bonito. your secret is safe. My honor
"Honor! Honor is like smoke, with such knowledge. A litt
puff of temptation will blow it out of sight."
"In your experience perhaps you are correct. Bonito, in
young nation to which I belong there are those who deem honor a
duty, and who place duty above gold or any of the temptatioi
instigated by human desires."
"They are angels, not men."
"Angels are myths; mere types of human perfection."
"I wouldn't trust a saint."
"A saint is above temptation."
"I mean before they are made saints."
"Then they don't deserve canonization."
"They don't deserve it, senor, and that's why the church waits a
hundred years to let their backslidings w r hile in the flesh grow dim
or become entirely forgotten. They all love money, laymen, priests
and bishops; even the pope has comfort in his Peter's pence. Jesus,
the founder of the faith, cared not for money, and was content with
no place to lay his head. The fashion is changed now, senor; the
thi w
that I
GUY RAYMOND. 291
fathers have wealth and the bishops are princes with palaces, and
"Come, Bonito. I'll report you and have you excommunicated."
"I am as plain with el padre Ignacio, and he is half inclined
to side with me. If they were all like el padre, Ignacio, senor; he is
an exception. But come, senor, you must go back to your cell, which
T hope you locked when you came out to my rescue."
"You never asked me how I got out."
"God willed it, senor, and that is enough for Bonito."
As Guy was proceeding to his cell under escort of his crestfallen
jailer, a mozo, bearing a basket, entered the court and announced
11 iat he brought a dinner for Senor Raymond and the other prisoner.
"If I only had your luck, senor! It is well the dinner comes
1.1 1 is way, for I have no idea of what has happened in my kitchen
since I was struck by the beastly robber. My head is turned by the
blows that the cowardly rascal rained on me from behind. Take the
basket, senor, and divide with the toreador, who is perhaps sober by
time."
hen Guy found himself once more in the cell he discovered
at his fellow prisoner was still asleep. He first removed the cloth
1o examine the contents of the basket, and was surprised to find a note
bearing his name. He eagerly unfolded it and reading by the dim
light of the apartment, gleaned the following:
Sir and Friend:
e who befriended you at the Cabeza de Toro is in the city
is the writer of this. Your companion in the carcel has been
i.rrested as a spy disguised as a toreador. Let him conceal his true
identity, which will assist me to escape the Argus eyes of the military,
interests are mine. Use your influence with - - to carry out
ishes. Your servant,
"M. R."
uy at once divined who was his correspondent and comprehended,
from all he had heard from Jose, the seriousness of the situation in
which. Ruiz was placed. It required but a moment to formulate a
mode of procedure that would consummate the wishes of his friend,
as expressed in the note.
The effects of dissipation would have prolonged Jose's sleep had
lie not been roused by his fellow prisoner, who calculated that the
appetite of the ex-toreador must be as keen as his own. Jose's first
glance, after rubbing his eyes, was at the stone at which Guy was
when he dropped off to sleep.
So you gave if up, son or?"
292 GUY RAYMOND.
"Not exactly, Jose. Another time Fll try again."
"You must be hungry/' Guy added, wishing to divert the coi
versation into a different channel.
"Yes, hungry I am senor. Let us rap for Bonito and
"Our dinner is here, and no thanks to our jailer. It comes from
a friend and is Candelario's best cooking."
The two were soon discussing the contents of the basket.
"I have news from Ruiz," said Guy. "He is still in town and
desires you to play the part of the arrested toreador, until he is safe
from the clutches of the military."
"But Bonito will discover
"Not necessarily. Keep back well in the cell whenever he comes
and I will manage Bonito. The authorities must still suppose that
Euiz is in their power."
Guy's thoughts crowded fast upon his mind as the confinement
of his cell brought the inevitable reaction that must follow the excit-
ing incidents through which he had passed since he first peered down
the dark descent discovered by the raising of the stone. He listened
patiently and answered abstractedly to the remarks of the major domo,
which were rambling and speculative as to Ruiz's intentions in town,
the stay of the toreadors, and other minor topics, while his own
earnest reflections were connected with his future and the necessity
of his deliverance from the carcel and escape from the Mexican lines.
The deliverance seemed now the less difficult since his knowledge of
the subterranean passage assured him of a mode of exit, a secret
that Bonito had little dreamed had passed into his possession. If he
could communicate with Ruiz the probability was that an escape could
be successfully planned. He turned the matter over in his mind
until he became nervous from the intensity of the thought, and
paced his cell for relief. In all human aims successful attainmc
must have for a precursor a fixity of purpose, to steel the nei
of action.
Ducio's determination was to interview the notary at once and
demand the paper he had abstracted from the monte table. He had
read it while dissembling in the church, and was convinced that it
was the key to the diagram in the possession of the authorities, and
which he had stolen from Mr. Trigg's papers. He cursed himself for
his carelessness, and resolved to repossess himself of it at all hazai
He knew the treasure it alluded to was on Galveston Island, as
rhyme confirmed the statement of Mr. Trigg, while in consul iaii<
with Perry and Hamilton. He indulged in liberal potations at
vinoteria. It \\as cuslomarv with the Creole when in his cups
Qind
aent
srves
GUY KAY AI OND. 293
talk to himself, and on this occasion he indulged in the habit to
some extent, employing at times the English and again the Frem-h
t express his dissatisfaction with his losses and his intention to
make the notary pay for his theft of the paper. Ruiz, who wad-hod
liis entrance to the vinoteria, had also resolved to keep an eye and
ear open to ascertain the destination and intentions of the man whoso
enmity he had somehow incurred. To facilitate this intention he
gained a position outside the door of the vinoteria, whence he could
hour anything that might be said within. He had to remain some
time before Ducio had reached a state of talkativeness; but at
length he was rewarded by learning that the notary was to be brought
to account that very night. This important fact gleaned, the listener
left his post and proceeded hastily down the street.
The notary's modest establishment was lost in the obscurity which
1 ung like a sable mantle over the Calle Soledad on the night of the
incidents just related and was scarcely distinguishable, even on very
close inspection, from the monotonous line of wall that constituted
the peculiar architecture of the city. The passing patrol on its night
rounds, or some belated frequenters of the Cabeza de Toro, might
have discerned the faint gleam of a light struggling through the
crevice of the notary's window shutter, indicating a late devotion
to some branch or department of that worthy's calling.
Within, the little dusty office presented about the same appear-
ance that it did on the occasion of Bonito's visit. The glimmer of
a low-burned candle revealed the occupant in apparent study, leaning
back in his chair with right arm resting on the table, while the
hand slowly, and perhaps unconsciously, turned a pencil. Before
him lay the paper which Ducio had lost at the monte table, and
which, on inspection, proved to be the identical original so long
deposited with him by the jailer, and withdrawn by its owner that
very afternoon. The notary's reflections were rapid, intense and sin-
ister. How had Bonito parted with the paper? How was it that
the Frenchman so lately from the home of old Antonio, the possessor
of the diagram the rhyme explained so well, had now become the
odiau <>f the rhyme? Was it a fortuitous circumstance? Had
the jailer made a trade for a consideration, to one who knew well
the value of the diagram? Had violence been used to obtain it?
Won- any of these hypotheses true, the indications were plain that
1'onito had not overestimated the value of the documents, and that
a hidden treasure awaited the coming of their possessor. That the
Frem-hman had missed the paper was apparent from his expression
ami movements. The unknown with the long beard had pointed him
294 GUY KAYMOND.
out as the abstractor. Could they trace him or even identify him?
His copies,, carefully filed away in his chest, were as serviceable as
the originals. Had the Frenchman fully gleaned the import of the
rhyme.? If not, he was sole master of the situation. If he had
what then? Would he incur risk for its repossession? The quantum
of courage and character in his makeup would perhaps determine
his action. If he could only have this Frenchman assassinated, there
would be no obstacle to his eventual possession of old Antonio's gold.
No necessity for haste then. On the other hand, with the French-
man living, there would have to be active movements, to say nothing
of the menace to himself entailed by a mutual knowledge of the
buried treasure. The notary was startled by his own sinister thoughts,
for he had never plotted against a life. But here gold, or the secret
of its locality, was the tempter to inveigle him from the even tenor
of his life to enter the arena of crime or of criminal intent. He
watched the flickering light now struggling from the socket, its motion
casting grim shadows along the walls and bethought him of the nec-
essity of a new candle before the expiring flame should be dissipated
in darkness as black as his own bad thoughts. The new dip was
ignited just in time, and he held it until the hot socket of the stick
would be cold enough for its reception.
"If this Frenchman could only be put out of the way," he mut-
tered. "It would be as easy as snuffing out the flame of a candle,
if I could only get ihe authorities to believe that he is a spy, and
that diagram he had is a plan of defenses for Galveston Island. A
good idea! In the morning I will go to headquarters and I will
put a flea into the lieutenant's ear."
The notary's reflections were interrupted at this point by a rap
at- the door. Snatching the paper from the table and concealing
on his person, he demanded :
"Quien es?"
The reply came:
"The sergeant of the patrol."
On receiving this reply he did not hesitate to enter the dm
hnll and open the street door. The caller entered and pushed his
way in as far as the door of the little office, without replying to
second inquiry of the notary as to what was wanted.
Tin 1 light of the candle revealed to the astonished official, not
the military visitor he expected to see, but the Frenchman who
occupied his thoughts during the time which had intervened sii
IK- Imd quitted the Cabeza de Toro.
"You i\r(t not a sergeant," he exclaimed, as he recognized Du<
GUY KAYMOND. 295
"But you are the notary/'
"I am."
"Well, I have some business with yon, and claimed to be the
sergeant to ensure admittance."
"It is very late to call on business. I will see you in the
morning."
"Excuse me, senor notary, but T prefer to at least arrange the
preliminaries tonight."
"Your business, senor; but cut it short."
"You were at the Cabeza de Toro tonight."
.mistake, senor. It has been six months since I paid a visit
place."
liar ns well as a thief," said Ducio aside,
saw you there myself. You took a paper I dropped on the
dealer's table, and I have come to get it."
"Santa Maria ! How can you say it, senor, when T have not
out of my office?"
id you not skulk out of the place when you saw me move in
direction?"
"Hold, senor! Bid not the individual you took for me wear a
\\hite hat a, little set back from his face?"
"True; but nevertheless it was you, the notary."
have it. It was my twin brother. A case of mistaken identity.
My brother often visits the Cabeza de Toro, and we are
v- Tit able Dromios."
Ducio was silenced, but assumed a doubtful expression.
"Sec. senor! Here is the hat I have worn for a month. The
p'T-on you saw wore a white one."
"\Vell, senor notary, if you have any regard for your twin coun-
terpart, you had better help me get this paper I spoke of. I will
u'iv<! him until tomorrow evening to produce it, and then and
then "
"Knough, senor. No need of stating any consequences. If you
Mill call tomorrow evening I will give you my brother's reply, or
bring you both face to face."
Ducio, only half convinced, did not know how to contradicl further
the solemn asseverations of the other, who might be one of triplets,
BO resembling in features as to reproduce all the ludicrou-- mistakes
Avhieli filled Hie experience of the Shakespearean twins, fie there-
fore hade the notary good night with an injunction to be faithful to
his promise, to avoid unpleasant consequences.
'The scoundrel!" said the notary as he closed his door. "He
296 GUY RAYMOND.
shall account for his possession of that paper. Brother! Ha! Ha!
I never had a brother. It was well that I put away that white hat/*'
"Fll make inquiries about this fellow's brother," said Ducio, as
he turned towards the plaza.
"The notary played his part well/' said Ruiz, emerging from the
rear of the notarial office. "Fll be on. hand tomorrow at the meeting
of these worthies, an inAdsible witness of the finale of this affair/'
The next morning the notary visited the carcel and on inquiry
was told that Bonito had not been seen and that his whereabouts
were unknown. Disappointed in not seeing the jailer, he turned his
steps towards headquarters. On his way to the latter place he began
to think that it would be better to not question Bonito about the
loss of the rhyme as it would attach to that paper an importance
that might defeat his own plans. He had it in his possession and
would keep it.
At headquarters he was received by the pompous little lieutenant,
who listened to his alleged suspicions relative to Ducio; but again
he was disappointed as the commander in chief had decided that the
paper was a harmless diagram, and there could be no importance
attached to any contemplated defenses for Galveston Island, as it
stood in no danger of an attack from Mexico in its present condition,
and the Texans could have no pretext to spend money where it
would be of so little service to their rebellion.
The notary therefore became uneasy as the day advanced and he
had discovered no loophole through which to escape from the ire of
the Frenchman, who would doubtless ascertain that he had no twin
brother in Bexar. He thought of assassination, but failed in nerve
to perpetrate the villainy or the chic to employ an agent for its
consummation.
When the hour arrived for the meeting between the baffled not
and the scheming Creole, the former awaited the interview with a
m.Tvous feelino- that' sprang from the uncertainty of the policy he was
to pursue in order to fend off the demands if not the attack of the
other.
The door was left ajar for the latter's ' entrance, and upon
Arrival he stalked into the room where sat the proprietor, apparantly
engrossed with a pile of papers, The greeting- was upon the verge
of frigid. Ducio seated himself and the eyes of each, as they encoun-
tered. <'\ preyed the sparring which was to follow.
"Your brother, not being present, I trust, senor notary
you are ready to produce the paper which he appropriated."
y, that
GUY RAYMOND. 297
U I am convinced, monsieur, from the tone of your remark, that
} ou have serious doubts of the existence of my brother."
"Your notaryship is very correct. I have discovered that you are
no Dromio. You were at the Cabeza de Toro and you are the identi-
cal party who took the paper I dropped from the monte table."
"Well, monsieur, I admit every word that you say. But, mon-
sieur, there is a checkmate. You play chess, monsieur; you know
what a checkmate means. 1 have found out your game and have
made a discovery that effectually blocks any further move without
my consent. Does the monsieur comprehend ?"
"Explain yourself," said Ducio, rather impatiently.
"Compose yourself," replied his opponent.
"Proceed. I will grant yon n 1V\\ minutes to explain this check-
mate, and then
"Monsieur is very gracious to grant me time, but I will assure
monsieur that it is entirely gratuitous."
"You are insolent, and my patience is exhausted."
"Will monsieur explain how he came in possession of the pretty
rhyme?" replied the notary, in a patronizing manner.
"That is no affair of yours/ 1
I "But it is one affecting law and practice."
"What mean you?" asked Ducio, starting to his feet.
"Be calm, monsieur. When villains confer they should not allow
themselves to be ruffled like ordinary people. You, monsieur, are a
villain by nature; I, by accident, a distinction without a difference
as to results when the officers of the law bring us to the bar of justice.
The jailer, Don Manoel, better known as Bonito, was the holder of
the paper you are so exercised about. I recognized it the moment
you dropped it and therefore secured it. I have discovered how you
obtained this paper, monsieur, and the sooner you drop the heroic and
come down to common sense, the sooner will we understand each
other."
Ducio was checkmated, but not satisfied.
"What do you propose?" he asked.
"What do you know?"
"That the rhyme i a key to the discovery of something hidden."
"An iron pot with an iron lid," quoted the notary, humorously.
"That this Manoel is a Portuguese friend of one Antonio who
Hind in New Orleans. "
" 'Beneath the cross securely hid/ " continued the notary.
"That one Guy Eaymond, supposed to be in this city, is to be the
hfir of the man who has another paper showing position of the
treasure."
298 GUY EATMOND.
'' 'Holds the treasure arid the gold taken by a seaman bold/ " con-
tinued the quoter. "But how came you in possession of this informa-
tion?"
"By accident; but through a natural propensity for eavesdrop-
ping."
"Accident assisted you in securing the rhyme also, but your evil
nature prompted you to the crime," said the notary, narrowly watching
for a clue upon which to build the true mode of the other's procedure
in getting the paper out of Bonito's possession.
"Senor Notary, this must end; you know too much," said Ducio,
rising threateningly.
"Hold, monsieur ! If you should harm or murder me it would
do you no good. We both know the secret, but I have the advantage.
The papers are secure from your reach. I alone can produce them.
Between us we can share this buried fortune, and we can save time
and trouble by coming to an understanding."
"Go on," said Ducio, seating himself.
"We can work our way to the island and divide the spoils."
"When do you propose to go?"
"We can decide that during the coming week. It can be reported
that our destination is Mexico/'
Ducio hesitated a moment, then said :
"Enough ! I agree. 'Tis said that there is honor among thieves,
and upon this I must predicate my trust in your performance of your
part of the obligation."
"There is no thievery in taking possession of treasure trove.
Therefore we cannot be classed as thieves," reasoned the notary.
When Ducio left his confederate it was in a frame of mind in
which it was not difficult to persuade himself that he had been baffled
by an adversary for whose powers he entertained a contempt. He
had made a bold play for success and through his own carelessness
had exposed his possession of the secret. Necessity for action was
most apparent. What kind of action must it be? His villainous
disposition pointed to the death of the notary and regaining the lost
paper. He would put this in execution that very night but for one
thing. A murder would necessitate immediate flight, and there in
the vault of old Bonito was wealth that need not be hunted among
the drifting sands of a distant island. The trouble was to secure
the jailer's gold and secrete it without detection. The miser, if not
killed by his assault, had missed the doubloons he had appropriated
and would be, doubtless, vigilant to protect his hoard, as well as lo
discover his mysterious assailant. He would run no risks of arrest,
GUY RAYMOND. 299
however, and endanger the heller chances which seemed l<> oflVr easy
discovery of the buried gold. JSuch wore Uucio's reflections as he
leisurely moved along under cover of the darkness, little suspecting
that his interview with the notary had had a witness.
CHAPTER XLI.
The morning following the conference between Ducio and the
notary, Manuel Ruiz wrote the following note to Guy Raymond :
"My friend: As the time is pressing for the accomplishment
of my errand to this place, I write to post you in order that you may
profit by an opportunity to escape from the enemy's lines to the
ranks of the Texans. An officer of the Mexican army of high rank
is here and in correspondence with a spy in the councils of our friends.
It is proposed to kidnap this officer and to convey him by the river
outside the town limits. 1 have laid all plans necessary for the suc-
cess of the undertaking. In disguise I have visited the nest and have
found out the very bed on which this person sleeps. This information
gained, I have asked the cooperation of a party from the Texans,
who will descend the river in a boat on - night. You will please
inform me of the best plan in your judgment to be pursued to effect
your escape from the cared. I do not think Bonito can be bribed,
miser though he may be. I have an idea, but would like to hear
from you before I give expression to it. You should be out in time
to help us in our undertaking. Reply to me through the basket re-
ti.rned to the Candelario's.
Your servant,
M. R."
The note came with the evening meal and Bonito, in person, was
the bearer of the basket, covered as usual by one of Candelario's nap-
kins. The jailer was reticent. His late experience had unnerved him
to a degree that evidenced a marked change, not merely from a char-
acteristic loquacity to a sententious expression, but in a physical
manner, his jolly, half hopeful look having given place to a woe-
begone appearance emphasized by a frequent twitching of the facial
nerves.
"I hope you feel in better spirits, Bonito," said Guy, as the
other handed in the basket.
"There is your supper, senor," he replied, evasively.
"What news, Bonito?"
"I am not a newsdealer. And then, where's the heart to gather
news and talk gossip when one's head is the target for bad luck?
LJ-J-O
mrt,
sket,
300 GUY RAYMOND.
But th"re i> sonic news for you. The orders are to keep you and the
toreador under a strict watch. There can be no privileges of com
senor, as before."
"Thanks, Bonito, for the information."
When Guy read the note from Ruiz, which he found in the basl
he began to ruminate on the necessity of escape now more apparent
since the nature of Bonito's last orders became known to him. There
was evidently some influence working against him more potent than
the prejudice of race, or the suspicion of his implication in the murder
of Vasquez. The authorities were under the impression that Ruiz
was his fellow prisoner,, and upon the latter and himself had converged
a suspicion of complicity in that tragedy. Hence the strictness of
Bonito's orders. Jose's masquerade would be lifted in the event of
a trial or investigation requiring identification and a search for Manuel
be instituted.
On the return of the jailer to fetch water and to take away the
basket and dishes, Guy slipped in a paper among the latter upon
which was written the following words :
"Whenever my services will be required give me at least three
hours notice of the time and place to meet you and I will be there."
The moodiness which had possessed Bonito still asserted itself
when he came for the things, but he lingered after having possessed
himself of the basket as if he were inclined to say something. Guy,
observing this, put his hand familiarly on his shoulder and said in
undertone :
"Bonito, amigo, make me your confident and perhaps I may h(
you to regain your cheerful manner. You have been a good jailer
and kind to me. Unburden your heart to one who would not be
ungrateful for ten times the gold you ever possessed."
Bonito's finger went to his lips as he glanced cautiously towards
Jose, who was making his pallet, and then gave Guy a look full of
admonition.
"Your parole, senor; not to attempt to escape," and he drew his
prisoner into the passageway and out of hearing of the other inmate
of the cell.
"I think I know who assaulted me in the in the
"Down there," said Guy. "Well ?"
"The Frenchman."
"The Frenchman ?"
"He was a prisoner but was released."
"Ah! I see. The same who denounced Manuel but the proof!
"It could only be he."
GUY KAYMOND. 301
Guy thought a moment, then facing the other he put a hand on
each of his shoulders and in that attitude of confidence that is cal-
culated to enlist the interest and win over resistance.
"Bonito," he said, slowly; "I have an idea which, if carried out,
will put this Frenchman out of your way and silence a witness to
to you understand."
"Yes senor. Yes yes."
"Let me have tonight to think it over/'
"I will, senor; think and think well, and I will be your servant.
It is strange I have this confidence in you, senor. You know all,
and yet I find myself arguing with myself that you would not touch
one centado. But this dark-faced Frenchman, senor; he has such
cunning in his eyes that when I look in them I see the treachery of an
Indian without his courage; the venom of a rattlesnake without its
warning. He is a favorite at headquarters and I have just learned
that to him are due the orders for your stricter confinement."
"We will attend to this subject of France, Bonito. Fetch me a
light after you deliver this basket."
"I will, senor, but have it put out when the relief comes at ten."
The morning after Guy's rearrest, Linda went to the monte pio's
to make some trifling purchase. The proprietor, who had always had
a soft spot in his heart for the pretty daughter of the jailer, received
he;r in his usually gracious manner. Linda was really his choice for
a wife, but the girl was refractory and resisted the attempts of her
father who, in his blundering way, had endeavored to make her com-
prehend the importance of an alliance with a man possessed of lantold
articles of value, with no knowing how many sacks of doubloons.
"What will Linda have this morning?" asked her suitor.
"A little ring I saw here. Tomorrow is my god-child's birthday
and he must have a present. But the ring is gone,. How unlucky
I am."
"Certainly among all these you will find one to suit."
I "I had set my heart on the one sold."
"You should have engaged it; but perhaps you are opposed to all
kinds of engagements/'
Linda turned away as if annoyed.
"How is the American taking his arrest?" he contineud. "He,
perhaps, has not heard of the rumor that he and Manuel Euiz are
to be shot, and that without a trial. It is said that their guilt
is so plain that not even the decision of a military court will be
needed."
"How heard you this report ?" asked Linda, excitedly.
302 GUY RAYMOND.
"Now you are interested, my little one. This fellow has turned
the heads of the women."
"Tell me, senor, if what you said is true ?"
"Sancho and the lieutenant of the staff say it is so decided.
Frenchman is the principal witness against them on one count, that
of being spies within the lines, while as murderers of Vasquez, the
evidence is quite plain."
Linda did not return home when she left the monte pio's, but
going diagonally across the plaza she left San Fernando to her right
and turned down South Flores street until she arrived before the
home of the Navarros.
Beatrice admitted her in answer to her summons.
"What, Linda ! In tears !"
"Oh, Beatrice ! Beatrice ! I hate to tell you."
The sobbing girl threw herself into a chair and was a moment
or two recovering herself sufficiently to proceed.
"Do speak, Linda. Is your father sick?"
"Worse, Beatrice, worse."
"What! Dying BP
"Oh no no Senor Raymond ! Oh, Beatrice ! Senor Raymond !"
Beatrice's cheek blanched, and she held the table against which
she was leaning with a firmer clutch. She spoke not, but awaited
with fixed features the ability of her friend to proceed.
Linda, with averted look, continued :
"It is said that Senor Raymond and Manuel Ruiz will certainly
be shot."
"Certainly?" demanded Beatrice. "Certainly, said you?"
Her lips were pale and compressed. Her handsomely chiseled
nostrils expanded to a measured respiration, indicating strong feeling
and a stronger purpose.
"I had it from the monte pio, and he said it came from those in
authority from Sancho and the lieutenant of the staff."
"I will see my father. I will see Father Ignacio. I will face
the general himself. I will Oh, Guy ! Guy ! To be a victim to such
a rabble. Linda, it shall not be. As I love him I will save him. I
may be absolutely nothing to him, but I am determined he shall not
be shot like a dog by this cowardly mob which calls itself an army.
Linda, you will help me. I may need your assistance if the fiend?
prove deaf to the appeal of justice or to the force of influence. There
is no time to lose. This may require prompt action and moments may
be precious. Do you glean everything in the shape of facts and sift
each rumor that you hear to discover the grain of truth it may con-
tain."
GUY RAYMOND. 303
Beatrice paced the room excitedly, while Linda, half rising to go,
watched her.
"Yes, Linda, go. Through your solicitude I detect your love for
him. All the better. Your passion will spur you to his assistance.
As for myself, I swear that he shall be released, and with God's help
and my deep love the strongest walls of Bexar cannot hold him."
"Beatrice, I will go and learn all I can. Perhaps my father will
know something. I will love him for your sake, Beatrice, and for you
I will help to liberate him."
Linda stole softly out and when the door closed behind her Beat-
rice left the room and, proceeding through a back hall, opened a door
that led into a yard. She called:
"Miguel ! Miguel !"
An answer came in the strong accents of a man, and presently
the owner of the voice appeared. He was of large proportions and
tall, with a 1 slight stoop of the shoulders. His whole physique in-
dicated great strength and his dress classed him as a mozo of all work.
"Miguel, come in; I want to talk to you."
The giant followed her into the hall, and at her sign, took a seat.
She drew a chair close to him.
"Miguel, I am in trouble and want you to help me."
"I am your servant, senorita."
"But this is something difficult and dangerous."
"All the same your servant."
"Miguel, you have been with our family since years before my
birth; you have been faithful and Don Juan would risk his life for
you, as I know you would for him. Promise me now that what I
will say to you will not be repeated without my permission."
"Your servant promises."
"Miguel, you are familiar with the carcel. I have heard you tell
stories of the place, and once you said that there was a secret passage
from a part of the prison leading to the jailer's quarters."
"There is a passage known only to a few. I once helped to repair
the cell into which it opens, and 1 although it has been so long ago
I beleive that in the dark I could find the stone covering the opening/'
"Oh ! Miguel ! Would you go with me to find that opening in
the quarters, and when found, would you help undo the way to the
cell if I, Beatrice Navarro, were with you by your very side?"
"I am your servant, senorita. It will be only necessary to com-
mand me."
"Here, then, Miguel good Miguel here on this paper I will
draw the plan of the carcel. Here is the court; here the hall of the
304 GUY RAYMOND.
cells ; here the jailer's quarters ; here is the plan. Now, in which cell
is the opening to this secret passage ?"
Miguel took the pencil and marked the cell. Then he traced the
course of the passageway under the court to the hall in Bonito's quar-
ters, where, he informed Beatrice, the other place of exit was to he
found. The eyes of Beatrice glistened with satisfaction as she dis-
missed tha mozo, and her nervous excitement rose and fell as her
active mind was swayed by the passion which completely possessed
her. She had not known her love until an appalling danger seemed
about to intervene to shut out forever the light whose brilliant elu-
cidation but awaited the test that was to fan the already glowing
germ. The realization of imminent danger to him who had for days
filled her heart with those emotions peculiar to first love, emotions
which enter and abide with one, unquestioned and inexplicable, had
now brought out the finer elements of character whose possession
marked Beatrice as a girl superior to her environments. The warm
Castillian blood, the conveyancer of so many charms in both mental
and physical development, had been tempered by American educa-
tion. The contact with northern character had blended self de-
pendence with the indescribable graces and soft manners of an ex-
traction that engendered reminiscences of the chivalry of Castile and
Aragon. Beatrice was now sure of her position. She loved the
youth who was all but a stranger, who had appeared upon the horizon
of her affections to shed the radiance that an uncongenial environ-
ment had failed to produce. It seemed to her that a great waste,
replete with barrenness, stretching out into a dim vista of stunted
growth and arid temperature, had suddenly assumed a garb of ver-
dure, while the prespect changed to cool retreats, where limipd waters
laved the shaded borders of eddying brooks. What wonder, then,
that she should be be aroused by a sense of danger threatening the
existence of this talismanic change with the prospect of a reversi
rendered more distasteful from the contrast.
He whom she loved had averted a danger to which she had been
exposed, which, but for his heroism, would have resulted in death.
Yet it was not for this she loved him. The obligation, perhaps,
rendered her passion more comprehensive. Now that he was in
danger she had the twofold purpose of love and gratitude to give
impetus to her efforts to save him from a pitiless enemy. The f
tunate knowledge possessed by Miguel of the secret passage thai e
isted in the carcel gave her the power to effect his escape without
the sympathy of the jailor, provided he could be riiviim\rn|p<l durinir
his repose or while off duty. Linda could be relied upon to give
GUY RAYMOND. 305
valuable assistance in this part of ili<> programme. Limb' lovecl him.
The sharp perception of a woman made this apparent, and her esti-
mation of the man she loved \vonld have made her wonder that any
woman should fail to love him. Full of these thoughts and brimming
with the renewed interest which Guy's danger had awakened, Beatrice
sought her room that she might uninterruptedly plot and plan and
dream.
CHAPTER XL11.
So soon as Josefa was left alone on the evening that Ruiz waited
for the mantle of darkness to allow him to leave the De la Torre V
house without detection, she began to reproach herself for not dot Min-
ing him longer. She felt that Ruiz had wronged her and she blamed
herself for not having indulged still more extensively in reproaches
before allowing him to depart. She was in a mood for fussing and
realized to the fullest extent, a mania in which desperation points to
the most unwarranted actions. The unrest which seized her with
an increasing power finally culminated. A set purpose seemed to
possess her. She procured pencil and paper and dashed off several
lines which she hurriedly rend, then folded the note. Looking
through the rodded window, she called to a boy who stood in the yard
below : "Juan ! Juan I"
In answer ho approached close io the wall.
"Take this to the monle mo" she said, throwing the paper to him,
"and when you return i will give you a real."
.Josefa busied herself around her apartment as if in preparation
for something. She stood before the mirror and combed her short
hair over her face, then parting it on the side, she arranged it after the
fashion of a cavalier.
''My features will be masculine enough, with the aid of dress, to
conceal my true sex, even from him."
These word/? were said jusi audibly as she turned her bead from
side to side, studying the effect. When she thought it to be about linn 1
for the return of her messenger, she kept on the lookout for him,
and before long was rewarded by his appearance with a bundle. She
motioned to him to bring it to the front door, and. going down to meet
him. was soon back with the package inspecting the content,-.
"One tonto!" she exclaimed, as she held up a pair of trousers
that were literally strung with glil.lering ornaments.
"I would not wear such as these, for I would be a center of at-
tra< t ion,"' she decided.
on furl her inspection she selected several articles of nn -
apparel which seemed to suit better.
306 GUY EAYMOND.
"These are more modest and I believe will fit my slight figui
to perfection. 77
An hour later Josefa stood before her glass, looking to be a cornel
Mexican youth. Her hat sat jauntily upon her head. Her hair,
short for a woman, was but little longer than the prescription of the
Mexican custom for the sterner sex. The well fitting round-a-bout
fell a little below the waist, far enough to well conceal a wide scarlet
sash whose ends fell from a knot over the left hip. The pants, close
fitting at the belt, fell loosely from the lower limbs and extended far
over the neat instep, making the narrow foot look only two-thirds its
length. Thus attired Josefa stole noiselessly down the steps and out
of the front door into the street. She bent her steps to the principal
thoroughfare and before she had well entered it, her gait became
steadier from reassurance. She passed boldly on to the bridge that
led to the Alameda. Nothing occurred to more than disturb Josefa V
equanimity until she reached the bridge where the lights of several
eating stands illuminated the sidewalk and were reflected from the
walls of the houses. As she paused here to think about her further
movements, the figure of a man passed by and as he turned his face
to the lights, she recognized the features of Manuel Euiz. Gratified
at the discovery she followed him over the bridge and up the steep
embankment on the further side.
* * *
The day after Ducio's interview with the notary he had an appoint-
ment at headquarters, and to meet it found himself entering the
capacious yard in front of the little building on the river. He foui
the lieutenant of the staff and his friend Sancho in consultation
the back veranda.
"Welcome I" said the lieutenant, as Ducio entered.
"Buenas dias," said Sancho.
"Senors, I greet you," said Ducio, with a smile.
"Be seated, senor. We wanted to hear from you in regard to thi
man Raymond, whether you know if he has been communicati]
with the enemy."
"I have every cause to think so," replied Ducio.
"Explain, senor."
"He has friends, if not relatives, in the Texas camp and nmf
be in communication with them. He knows of their presence thnr
and, judging from the fact that he has made no attempt to
T believe that he remains here for the purpose of communicati]
information to your enemies."
GUY RAYMOND. 307
"That would constitute him a spy."
"Most assuredly."
"Then he should be shot," said Sancho.
"Along with Ruiz, whose case is plain," said the lieutenant.
"A sharp fellow; he is au fait with the Texan commanders and
took active part at Concepcion."
"The dastardly traitor," said the lieutenant.
"The murderer of Vasquez," chimed in Sancho.
"Is it certain that they will be shot?" asked Ducio.
"You mean Ruiz and Raymond?"
"Those two."
"Unlucky R's," said Sancho.
"Their fate is sealed. The order for their execution will be issued
this week," said the lieutenant, with a pompous air that little accorded
with his sqeaking voice.
"The general then has decided."
"Yes, and the decision is final. Besides General Almonte, who
represents El Presidente, has approved it and will not leave the city
until after the execution. Almonte says that this Raymond is a
splendid actor. He joined his party on the San dreronimo and rep-
resented that he had just escaped from the Indians. Almonte was
suspicious of him from the first."
"Has Almonte heard from Edward Gritton'?"
"No. Doubtless the messenger was intercepted."
"And Gritton?"
"Will fare badly if the dispatches fell into the hands of the rebels
But Gritton's action has served the purpose of the government in fur-
nishing the names of the leaders to be punished, and I suppose there
is little more use for him. Spies run great risks."
"And should be well paid."
"A precept fulfilled in Gritton's case. But there are spies and
spies. Some men risk their lives in the business for love of country."
"In which case they must be to the manor born. Gritton is an
Englishman."
"An Englishman. You could not get one of those infernal Texan-
Americans to give the government any information. Sancho, they
fill my ideal of the Spartan character."
"They are purd dioMos. I will never forget their obstinacy at
Concepcion. They have a desperate courage which I class with that
of pirates. There is no virtue in it."
"It serves the purpose at all events and it will require the presence
of El Presidente and his legions to secure to Mexico this empire of
:
308 GUY RAYMOND.
territory This lost to us will be but the entering wedge to the dismem-
berment of our country."
"Is there news from the rebel camp later than that brought yoi
by this gentleman ?" referring to Ducio.
"Yes. Their investment of the place is complete. They are
considerable force at the old mill just above on the river. A foraging
party from the garrison had a brush with them on the lower road to
Matamoras."
"Then Almonte will have some trouble in eluding their pickets.
If he be captured on the heels of the execution of the two prisoners
those devils would resort to lex telionis measures."
While the lieutenant and Sancho were thus discussing the mili-
tary situation Ducio remained silent, the words of the pair having
just interest enough to make their import comprehended, while he
mentally evolved the adaptability of what he heard to the furtherance
of the schemes matriculated by his late experience. Ducio reflected
with no small degree of satisfaction on the decision of the military
authority to put to death one of the beneficiaries named by Mr. Trigg
in the disposition of the hidden treasure. Not that the execution of
Guy Raymond would have any direct bearing on his own fortunes,
but it seemed to him that his removal would bo an obstacle loss to his
acquisition of the contents of the iron pot. He had not seen the sub-
ject of his thoughts, but had hoard the story of his capture, his escape
and of his prowess from the lips of Ruiz before he left the Texan
camp. The mere existence of an honorable and fearless opponent,
no matter how passive ho may be through ignorance of contemplated
wrongs or the imminence of danger, is a power whose force is mag-
nified in the consciences of the depraved. So Ducio mentally argued
that Guv's removal would by some moans accelerate his chances to for-
tune. Mr. Trigg's life depended from a thread which a stray bullet
from a Mexican musket might snap. Without the papers neither
Hamilton nor Perry could solve the riddle of the sand hills. The
notary was the custodian of the secret, surreptitiously obtained and
with himself alone knew of the existence of the gold which "beneath
the cross securely hid" awaited his coming to enrich him. The
notary must be removed bv some moans. He could not afford to
divide the treasure which luck had brought him; yos, brought him,
for it was already within his reach and it now required but his own
consummate ability to devise the means to bo used and the time io
act. Ducio began to wonder that other men of npnnroui intolligonoe
found it so hard to win fortune. A few hours h.-id uol only pul
him on the road to wealth, but had disclosed before his -nvdy ga/
rat
"
GUY RAYMOND. .109
a mass of yellow coins thai of itself constituted I he prize for which
millionaires struggle and toil, and to acquire it, use every device known
to monopolistic tactics and legalized depredations. The execution of
Guy Raymond was favorable. The capture of General Almonte by I he
Texans through information furnished by him would give him per-
fect freedom within the Texan lines with no cloud upon him for liny-
ing been a brief sojourner within the lines of the beso.igod city. If
he should do up the notary he must, through prudence, take himself
outside of Mexican jurisdiction and drum-head decisions. While
the swift justice of the authorities excited his admiration in the cases
of the two prisoners, its rigor was clear and alarming when it proposed
to be the adjudicator of his own transgressions. Ducio's frails and
tendencies were only the world's emphasized. Inductively examined,
their germs will be discovered where duty and patriotism have heon
rendered comatose by infusions of false ideas in the problems of social
life, to the destruction of its true aims, to the subversion of human
happiness, to the communism of class. To Ducio the modern soon I
drift was apparent. The science of government had been prostituted
by the complete ascendency of the properly idea over individual rights.
Acquisitiveness had so completely developed in the cranium of the
genius of civilization that the well being of humanity had shrivelled
into comparative vacuity. In Ducio's conception he had accentuated
the social tendency by taking shorter cuts to fortune. I Jobbery is
robbery under any guise. It may lie qualified by prefixes to save the
qualms of a pharisaical conscience, or it' rnav masquerade in fictions
of legislation, yet the essence is there. Land illegally hold in Mort-
main became to grasping churchman legal and lucrative in trust.
Men often grow rich through murder; it may be of an individual,
or it may be of the masses. Tn the latter case it is always legal and,
therefore, respectable with perhaps only a score of economists protest-
ing against doing by wholesale what is infamous by retail. Elastic
minds reconcile the brigandage of class with honesty and plead custom
to refute the logic of nature and humanitarianism. Ducio, rascal as
he was, had a supreme contempt for those lights of civil i/at ion who
upheld the depredations of class and in the same breath denounced
the individual robber. He deemed it to be many degrees braver to
incur the risk of a direct appropriation of the goods, chattels and
money of an individual without the cloak of a logislntivo act or the
pursuance of an arbitrary and unnatural custom. He believed that
the wrong which would crush thousands was proportionately greater
ffnn that which would injure an individual. Ducio, however, was a
character who stood not upon the distinctions when the opportunity
presented itself to transfer the shekels of another to the pockets oJ
Ducio. With a little training he would have made a star in Wall
street. In the lobby or in the halls of legislation he would have left
the imprint of his peculiar talent on the class legislation of a political
system intended to be a model for the imitation of mankind in the
construction of governments looking primarily to the freedom of rights
and equality of the people. Ducio recognized the truths enunciated
by political economists, but it was like the knowledge which the tra-
ditional Satan has of the beneficience and power of the Ruler of the
universe. Satan prefers the unrest of Hades and grim satisfaction
of the exercise of an evil power to the joys of Heaven or the peace of
Nirvana. Ducio thought his selfishness would be better subserved with
the economies safe in the custody of the colleges and universities.
Like Christian ethics, social and political economy were things to be
preached and read about but too antagonistic to the present civiliza-
tion to be practiced. Therefore Ducio scoffed at the teachings of
moralists and economists, and in a species of suave qni pent rush for
the smiles of fortune, lie determined to take the short cuts and trust
to secrecy of movement to save him from the clutches of the law.
CHAPTER XLIII.
Ruiz, who had kept upon Ducio Halfen's trail since the latter
quitted the Cabeza de Toro in pursuit of the notary, followed him
the same night to the house of that functionary. Concealed behind
the apartment he witnessed the interview between the two worthies
from the rear window and heard most of their conversation. He
gleaned the fact that a compromise had been effected between them
regarding the paper dropped on the gambling table. He inferred
that they had a key to the treasure to which Guy had some claim,
but he could not make it clear to himself what it could be. It ap-
peared evident that Ducio had had access to some treasure from the
number of doubloons he had displayed at the monte table. He could
see in Ducio's manner and read in his looks a danger to the notary
which the latter did not appear to realize. When the two separated
Ruiz resolved to keep watch on the movements of the wily Creole.
When he quitted his post as eaves-dropper, he climbed a low wall and
found himself in a short alley conned ing Acequia and Soledad streets.
As he made his way to the former, so as to enter the plaza at a
different point from Ducio, tho figure of a man appeared and lo<>1>d
over the wall at the other's retreating form. He sprang lightly over
and followed Ruiz to the plaza. Here the unknown stopped and
GUY BAYMOND. 311
leaned lightly against the massive masonry of the corner until the re-
treating figure was lost in the direction of the Candelario's.
"Well, senor Don Manuel Ruiz, you are a puzzle. What your pur-
pose here is I am not able to say. Gambling and eaves-dropping are
no clear pointers to your mission."
Such was the exclamation made in an undertone by the young man
with tho scarlet sash who had been following Rniz as he left his po-
sition at the corner of the plaza and turned up towards Flores street.
"That was a handsome Frenchman," he mused, "and Ruiz was
watching him. He had a deal of money. Is perhaps rich. What
can Manuel- have to do with him? I saw him once before while I
was entering Linda's gate. Such piercing eyes! They say mine arc
that way. Dios! What a pair we'd make!"
J A ud /lose fa entered her door.
Josefa's escapade of the night before could not have produced
any remorse of conscience in the bosom of that erratic damsel on
a review of her violation of the proprieties, if indeed she took the
trouble to reflect on the subject or to estimate the consequences, if
anv there might have been, in the event of detection. One thing is
certain, that when she first recognized Ruiz at the bridge, she took
care io keep him in sight or hailing distance until she turned her
steps homeward. Whatever might have been her doubts of her old
lover, she had that confidence in his manhood to be sure that no
one could have insulted her with impunity while in the radius of
his protection. This reflection may have upheld the girl in any
nisgivings that chanced to well up unbidden, to deter her from a
successful prosecution of her espoinage. She had accomplished noth-
ing towards the solution of Ruiz's mission, if that was her object,
ff>r an honest inquiry into her own intentions would have disclosed
a mental stair- in which jealousy and a discontent with her present
humdrum existence were kept astir by a nature full of high-strung
amhition. Rui/ was not a necessity to her, yet she felt the influence
of the old lie, while she half hated him because he had failed to
prove the instrument which was to dispel the cloud hanging over
her life. Her facile heart was ready to acknowledge any helpmeet
who would promise to guide her in the life-paths, free from the
restraint, of certain influences repugnant to her nature. The piercing
eves of the Krench man whom she knew not had made an impression
on her waxen heart, and their owner would have only to follow up
the advantage by a. show of dash and means, to win for himself the
ambitious daughter of the |)c la Torres. Josefa's thoughts pursued
this very channel from the time of her awaking until an hour
rUY
later she arose to make her toilet. This she did with all the indo-
lence of leisure, until her tardiness invoked a call to the morning
meal. A little later a note from the lieutenant, requesting permis-
sion to bring a friend to see her, was handed her. Josefa's eye-
hrows arched, as she road, in wonder .-is to who the unknown caller
was to be. She knew all the gentlemen of the city who would likely
be friends of the writer. It could not he Almonte, who was married.
It suddenly flashed upon her mind that it might be the stranger
with those piercing eyes. She had been told he was a Frenchman.
What matter? Nationality is nothing. Push, impudence and means.
They were sufficient for the attainment of the ne plus ultra of
modern ambition. They wore Ihr triune elements whence were
formed the materials of fortune to be acquired without the efforts
and the humiliations of labor. The Frenchman was apparently in
antagonism with Ruiz. He was welcome at headquarters, which had
set a price on Manuel's head. The favorite had been watched by
i'ho fugitive at the gambling resort where the former had lovst, with
apparently small regret, so much money. Ruiz was not rich, and
his treason to his country would impoverish him. The sharp French-
man must be well off, and besides
Josefa, did not conclude her thought definitely, but allowed her
imagination to revel in conclusions, enveloping the dark stranger in
a mysticism of character whose blending lights and shadows reflected
the varying bents of her own ephemeral purposes.
She was not disappointed, when her two callers were announced,
to find thai one of them was Ducio Halfen. The latter had been
no loss stricken by the appeamnce of Josefa than she was by the
easy carriage and flashing eyes of the Creole. A report of the lady's
prospects, exaggerated if not untrue, caused him to construe them
as worthy of the aspirations of an unprincipled adventurer like him-
self and with the idea uppermost in his mind he sought an acquaint-
ance with her through the instrumentality of his military friend of
the staff. The meeting between the two, from its inception, lacked
the stiffness that frequently characterizes the first encounters of the
-CMS where a suspicion of interest or design has either mutually or
singly existed in the minds of the parties. On the part of Josefa
this arose from her natural self-command and art in acting. With.
Ducio it was from an innate impudence and lack of any touches of
refinement calculated to rebuke evil purposes or excite trepidation.
Conscience- he had none. The call extended longer than interviews
of such a preliminary nature usually last, and when Ducio left he
T
GUY RAYMOND. 313
promised to return again in the afternoon for a walk. The lieu-
tenant was ignored in the arrangement.
In the afternoon the engagement for the walk was fulfilled.
Josef a 's knowledge of the city and its environs constituted her the
guide for the occasion. They followed the banks of the river until
the line of pickets intercepted their further progress towards its source;
then crossing a rude footbridge, they traversed the fields until the
Alamo, with its weather-beaten walls, rose boldly into view.
"Would you like to take a look at the country from the top of
the Alamo?" she asked of Ducio.
'I should like it extremely well," he replied. "And we may
a sight of the Texans, Avho are said to be much nearer town,
at an old mill just above on the river."
"You said you were in their company for a while, before entering
here. Are they the terrible characters that we hear described?"
hey are devils to fight. As to character, they represent every
of life, the farmer, the doctor, the lawyer, the mechanic, the
merchant, the clerk and the adventurer, and of course are made up
of good, bad and indifferent men like one will find among all such
gatherings of humanity."
They reached the church in a short time and by a rather difficult
ascent found themselves upon the walls of the edifice which was des-
tined so soon to become famous throughout the world as the Ther-
mopolae of America, reserving for itself a distinction which in later
years a patriotic Texan expressed in the memorable words:
Kriiermopolae had her messenger of defeat the Alamo had none."
o the north the course of the river was marked by a line of
timber. Chaparral, denuded of foliage, stood in clusters or extended
in stretches with alternations of openings in which the grass still
showed spots of green among the gray and taller growth. There
Y..IS a, sleepy look in the prospect. The background of hills raised
their blue summits in successive ranges until the whole was capped
by the rocky elevation whose tree-clad summit marked the spot where
the swift running Olmus burst suddenly from its limestone prison,
to run its short course through glassy lakes and eddying pools, rip-
pling rapids and winding currents, until its crystal \\aters were lost
in those of the San Antonio. The old mil] which the Texans were
i (-ported to have occupied was just visible on the right bank of the
liver. A horse or two just beyond, a faint indication of smoke a
shado heavier than the hazy atmosphere, were the sole inductions
presenting themselves to the vision, to show that the rebel Tex-ms
314 GUY RAYMOND.
were in the vicinity. To the left and west lay the town a materialized
monotony of low walls, with occasional reliefs of adobe and tul(
where stood the jacals of the poorer class. Ducio asked half inquir-
ingly :
"In your Monterey home you had finer scenery than this ?"
"Oh, there it is grand; the city is in the very lap of the moun-
tains. All around they lift their great heads towering far above
the valley, while their sides are a picture of perpetual green."
"You would like to return to a place doubtless filled with memo-
ries as pleasant as the scenery is grand would you not ?"
"Yes, but
"But?"
"I would not return alone. My relatives are few, confined in
fact, to a mother and uncle, and they are not congenial."
"Not congenial ?"
"Both are good to me both are bigots, and move in the narrow
sphere circumscribed by the rigor and rules of the church. I crave
liberty at any cost. I would rise above all restraint, all rules, all
conventionalities, and live the life best suited to the happiness of
beings who know no future existence and believe that they are here
with the full right to employ all the traits, which distinguish them
from the lower animals, for their gratification and pleasure."
"You then stand in need of a friend. My ideas run in the same
grooves. Could we be friends?"
"Why not?"
"There may be barriers. For instance, my stay here is limited.
Two more suns may not see me in Bexar."
"So soon?"
"Yes, business calls me away. To linger here might cost me a
fortune, although I might win the prize of your friendship."
"You have been left some property?"
"Yes no not by will or legacy, but my presence elsewhere will
bring me to a fortune, that I could not realize or secure by a delay
of many more days in this queer city."
"You would be unwise to delay your going in that case but,
senor you may return and then and then
"And then?"
"We could be friends."
"And go to Monterey?"
Josefa looked away as if at a loss to answer.
"To Monterey or elsewhere if "
"Well?"
j.
" A
I
GUY RAYMOND. 315
"If I were free to go and you desired to go with me."
Ducio would have replied if a noise had not claimed their atten-
tion. It was the step of Father Ignacio, who seeing Josefa in com-
pany with a stranger, while he was passing, mounted to the top of
the building.
"It is my uncle," said Josefa in an undertone.
"The priest!" exclaimed Ducio.
"The priest," said Father Ignacio in a tone of reply.
And he continued:
"You are sight-seeing, Josefa? And who is this gentleman, your
escort?"
"I am rather his escort, uncle. This is Senor Half en, a stranger
whose acquaintance I have made. Senor Halfen, this is Father
Ignacio."
The men bowed.
"I have heard of you Father."
nd I of you, sir. You are the Frenchman."
have a French passport."
t is all the same, senor, but- tell, me how is it that you make
Senor Raymond a spy?"
"Those are my suspicions."
"But, my dear senor, he is not. He entered San Antonio with
me, just escaped from Indian captivity, and did not even know that
there was trouble between Mexico and the colonists. I am afraid,
senor, that you have done a great injury to a young man whom I
have found to be the soul of honor. Even my influence cannot
change the attitude of the authorities towards him, and your evidence
is counted strongly against him."
Father Ignacio spoke with feeling, for being a true type of honor-
able manhood, he despised the malignity that prompted persecution
of innocence.
Ducio replied :
"I gave my views in his case not voluntarily. I merely replied
to questions and .what I stated was my consciencious opinion. I do
not care to be lectured upon the subject and trust your reverence will
take the hint."
"Your impudence does not match your nationality. French gen-
tlemen are usually respectful to priests."
"Let us go, Senorita De la Torre. I would not let this grow into
a quarrel," said Ducio.
"It will not be a quarrel, senor, for I am going myself. Josefa,
you have congenial company I perceive. I congratulate you."
316 GUY RAYMOND.
"Thank you, uncle," she replied ironically. Then in a kind
tone, as if to bridge over the situation, she continued:
"But where have you been out this way? You positively I
fatigued."
"Oh! My major domo, Jose, has disappeared and is not to
found inside of the lines. It is certainly a mystery. Between his
disappearance and Senor Raymond's trouble, I have had no peace of
mind. I have exhausted my fund of influence and now I have but
one recourse, and that is to my God. If prayers and masses will
avail, not a hair of this gentle youth shall be harmed. I feel sure
that God's power will avert the danger which menaces him. He is
a noble youth, Josefa."
Josefa's reflections were multitudinous when she found herself
at home again alone. Her companion of the walk was sympathetic
and her uncle had dubbed him a congenial one. There was much
truth in his remark and it eminently fitted her previous declaration
to Ducio that she desired a congenial friend. This Halfen had an
external respectability that would meet the requirements of society.
His principles might be anything, all the better if they were anti-
religious, so far as she was concerned. The cloud over his possesssion
of gold which Manuel's musings had raised had not been cleared
away by his explanation that he must leave Bexar to secure his expec-
tancy. If wealth was to be his or if he had it already secured, by
fair means or foul, que importa, society would not stop to inquire
before extending its hand. If her uncle had not interrupted their
quiet tete-a-tete on the top of the old mission, much of the unce
tainty as to their future might have been dissipated by the utteran
of a few more words. How much better was Guy Raymond than
Ducio Halfen? His honor had landed him in jail. Ducio was free,
and fortune was extending to him her arms. She did not begrudge
him a tithe of the help to be expected from the mumblings of the
mass or the telling of beads. She would not utter an Ave, even if
it could save him, save him to Beatrice Navarre.
CHAPTER XLIV.
fvrsis-
Ruiz had kept upon the trail of Ducio Halfen with such persis
tency that he was perfectly posted as to his movements. He had
detected the sudden acquaintance and growing intimacy between him
and Josefa, but of course he was at a loss to know what transpire
at their interviews. In forty-eight hours they were together fo
::
GUY RAYMOND. 317
times, and he believed that no good result would follow in the steps
of his old fiancee. He had been disappointed in his calculations for
assistance from the Texan camp to carry out his part of the pro-
gramme that had brought him to the city. He had communicated
his readiness twice through paid messengers, to co-operate with the
promised aid, yet the assurance of its coming had failed to reach
him. He was at great risk of detection, which was only deferred
by reason of the mistaken identity which was costing Jose his liberty.
One night, it was the third after Ducio's interview with the notary,
Euiz discovered the Creole passing along the east side of the plaza,
and supposing that his destination was the house of the De la
Torres he followed him. The so-called Frenchman moved with an
apparent caution that had not been characteristic of his manner on
any previous occasion, while under the surveillance of Ruiz. His
entrance into Soledad street banished the first idea in Ruiz's mind
that Ducio contemplated a visit to Josef a, but he felt sure now that
the notary was to be honored by an interview with his confederate
in the mystery of the paper. A minute later this was verified by
Ducio's light rap at the door of the notary, who presently atmitted
him. Ruiz began to deliberate on the advisability of playing eaves-
dropper, feeling half ashamed of the role. But it was evident that
the villains were bent on some mischief, and as Guy Raymond ap-
peared interested in some manner, he finally concluded to prosecute
the espionage in the hope to serve his friend. Accordingly he gained,
by easy steps, his old position at the rear window, and through a
small aperture left by the fold of an improvised curtain he had a
pretty good survey of the room. Halfen's face was fully visible as
he sat opposite the notary, who only disclosed a side view as he occa-
sionally moved his head. Their tones were low at first and, from
the catches that reached the listener's ears, were on commonplace
topics, foreign to the undoubted purpose of the interview. Once he
caught the name of Josef a accompanied by a rascally expressive smile
on Ducio's physiognomy. Finally the conversation became more earn-
est and serious, and erstwhile a whole sentence would reward Manuel's
patience. This came from Ducio:
"But as to the division, my friend, that must depend upon the
amount of trouble and risk * * * *"
This from the notary:
"But the papers must remain in my possession" * * * * "They
are my security." * * * *
Ducio demanded the papers of the notary for inspection, but
the latter was positive in his declination to accede to it.
318 GUY RAYMOND.
nd he
"You should be satisfied/ 7 he insisted.
Finally Ducio agreed to all the notary insisted upon, and
assumed an accommodating air until he rose to depart. He held out
his hand, which the notary took, and things appeared to be smoothed
over between the confederates. At his caller's 'request the notary
proceeded to let him out in the street. In doing so he turned his
back to Ducio, who, seizing the opportunity, struck him on the head
with something that felled him to the floor. The assassin lost no
time in repeating his deadly blows upon the prostrate form of his
victim. The execution of the deed required but an instant. The
wretch stood over his fallen partner in crime a moment, then stoop-
ing, went through his pockets. The contents he examined by the
light on the table, casting now and then furtive glances at the win-
dows. Finally he gave vent to an exclamation of satisfaction as he
finished the examination of a paper.
"This is the document," he said. "And now I will be gone."
Hastily extinguishing the light, he made his way out of the front
door and stole cautiously down the street.
Ruiz was amazed at what he had witnessed and half regretted that
he did not rush to the notary's assistance. But he was in the city
incognito and it would have been folly to have so acted. Besides,
both parties were conspirators, and he felt that retributive justice
would yet overtake the murderer. Dangerous as it was, he could not
refrain from entering the office to view the body and see if life was
extinct. So noiseless had been the whole proceeding that no cry was
uttered and save the thud which came from the fall of the light form
of the victim, nothing had been heard to indicate an altercation ir
the interview so amicably begun. The real danger then, which Manuel
could apprehend, would be from a chance discovery of his presence
in a compromising position and the circumstance used as potential-
evidence of his complicity. An arrest would also lead to his identi-
fication, which should have really constituted his cause for alarm.
At any rate, he did not allow himself time for reflection on these
subjects, but soon found himself in the room and darkness. This
was a dilemma. He however felt around for the body, which he care-
fully manipulated to discover any signs of life. No respiration no
pulse. The repose of the limp form was the repose of death. The
head had received the fatal blow. Through the crushed skull the
life blood still flowed upon the floor, forming a pool into which
Manuel accidentally placed the fingers of his hand. He withdrew
them with a shudder and was careful to avoid getting upon his shoes
or -clothing the red evidence of crime. This Ducio Half en was
GUY RAYMOND. 319
criminal of the worst type,, lie thought, as lie wended his way along
the street. What terrible company was such a man for a female of
gentle birth, or with any claims to virtuous womanhood. He thought
of Josef a and her intimacy with the fiend who had just taken human
life for the possession of a piece of paper. Bonito's name had been
thrice mentioned in connection with this business, as was also Guy
Raymond's. Would it not be well to apprise the jailer? Full of
this last idea Ruiz turned towards the carcel. No--- there was the
sentinel pacing his post, an obstacle in the way. He would enter
by Linda's garden. It was late, but the business was urgent. Before
he realized it he was at the door in the wall. It was locked. The
wall was high, but he would try it. Placing his hand upon the exten-
sion of the low arch, he gave one vigorous spring and caught the top
of the wall with the other. A few scrambles and he bestrided it
almost out of breath with the exertion. He let himself down into
the garden and approaching the door of the apartment he hesitated.
The thinly curtained window disclosed a light- within. Linda had
not retired so much the better. His light knock sounded strangely
distinct in the quiet of the night. The footsteps he heard just before
hi- summons at once ceased. Was Linda frightened? He would
not knock again. He called:
"Linda! Linda!"
"Quien es?"
"Yo Manuel Manuel Ruiz."
Purely the voice "of Manuel/' she replied, "but Manuel is in
ill."
"Escaped, however. Deja, me entrar."
"What would you here this time of night? A fugitive from my
father would find a poor asylum with his daughter."
"You should know, Linda, that I mean well. Your father's
in erestfe, perhaps his life, may depend upon my seeing you this night.
Abra la puerta,"
The door just cracked a little and when Linda had ocular proof
of Ruiz's identity it opened and the caller crossed the threshold.
"What, Manuel! Blood on your hands!"
"True, the stains are there yet. A little water, Linda, and I
will remove the traces."
As Ruiz cleaned his hands in 'Linda's basin he exacted of her
a promise of secrecy as to his -visit and in regard to whatever he
might, impart. He then seated himself and recounted what he had
witnessed at the notary's office, together with all that he knew of
the existence and character of the document causing the homicide.
320 GUY EAYMOND.
Linda knew nothing definite of Bonito's business. He was o:
with the notary, who attended to all papers requiring attestation
besides giving her father the benefit of his legal attainments. Whi
the two were imparting to each other all they knew in regard
Bonito's danger on the one hand and his habits on the other, Manu
had several times heard a shuffling noise in the hall, not unlike the
jailer's steps, but more labored, as if he were experiencing some diffi-
culty in his movements.
This finally aroused Ruiz's curiosity.
"Is that your father in the hall?"
Linda, looked troubled, and it was a moment before she replied:
"Father has locked me in here to conceal his work. He has been
busy, repeatedly passing back and forth, as you have heard, since
dark."
"What can it mean?"
"I cannot say. Oh, Manuel! He is a strange man. He loves
money and saves every centado. That he has money hid away I am
certain, but he has hinted that he has been robbed, and I believe
right now he is making some disposition of his treasure, to better
conceal it."
"Robbed lately?"
"Just four days ago."
"For Dios ! The Frenchman."
"He who murdered ?"
"Lo mismo."
"That accounts for the gold lost at the Cabeza de Toro."
"You'd make a nice little detective, Linda."
"But you spoke of Senor Raymond, Manuel."
"They intimated that he must be put out of the way, but exp
the authorities to attend to that."
"But, Manuel "
Linda's voice was strong in protest, her eyes suffused with tea
and her head sank forward as her extended hand touched the shoulder
of her friend.
"I know what you would say, Linda, We all love him and if
there be any virtue in human effort after every available influen
has been exhausted without effect, he shall not meet the death se
tence of these miserable tyrants. Linda, we may ask your passi
assistance."
"My assistance? I would do much to save him. I am a frail
woman, it is true, but I have the will to serve him that would mate
the strength of giants. Oh! Manuel, I am not ashamed to say
11
GUY RAYMOND. 321
love him that I love him without one act of his to encourage the
affection."
"He is a lucky fellow. Yet again unlucky, for it is little less
than murder to blight the love of a woman."
"It is no fault of his, Manuel, to know him is to love him."
"Then tomorrow night, if I and others seek your aid to free
Guy Eaymond, you will freely give it?"
"Trust me, Manuel. Only be sure of yourself."
"Now, Linda, I will go, but you must warn your father of this
Frenchman, and if you repeat to him what you have heard from me,
perhaps he will know more of the danger to be expected than I
could tell him/
As Manuel left- the room to make his exit from the garden, the
heavy shuffle in the hall again attracted his attention. He nodded
knowingly to Linda, while he motioned his hand in the direction of
the noise. Linda followed him to let him into the street.
Ducio, like criminals generally, was too much wrought up by his
act to have any very definite idea of what his next step was to be.
He turned the corner to the right when he reached the plaza and
drew himself close into the recess of the first door he came to.
Here he endeavored to muster some degree of that coolness which
was peculiarly his on all but extraordinary occasions, in order that
he might determine between the comparative conditions of safety
promised by flight on the one hand, and by an assumption of inno-
cence and a longer sojourn in the city on the other.
Whatever might have been the nature of the decision that was
to result from Ducio's perturbed cogitations, he was destined to be
cut short in them by the sound of footsteps, followed by the passing
of the owner of the feet, who almost brushed the facings of the door-
way which concealed him.
"It is my evil genius," thought Ducio. "It is that fellow with
the long beard. It is strange how I always encounter him."
Without definitely deciding to do so, he followed Ruiz with his
eyes through the darkness, and then stealthily in person with eal-like
steps.
"I'll watch what this fellow is up to, anyway," he said to himself.
As has been already related, Ruiz turned his steps finally to the
jailer's home to interview Linda. Ducio witnessed the scaling of
I he wall and concluded it must be an affair of the heart that impelled
the act.
"This fellow must be a suitor of Linda's," was the Creole's con-
lie thought of the doubloons in Bonito's vault. These were
322 GUY RAYMOND.
brighter to him than Linda's eyes. He envied the chance of the
fellow who had just disappeared over the wall, and thought how he
could turn it to advantage if he could play the suitor and get another
grip on the gold. Bonito must have recovered from the blows on the
head. He had kept it dark. Wise Bonito ! The story of the assault
would have been the story of possession. The old miser! The fellow
with the long beard had been received perhaps with open arms, for
he had heard voices and then all was quiet. He put his hand on the
arch. One spring and he missed the top. The other fellow did it.
Another trial and the adventurer gained the wall. He surveyed the
garden for a moment and then dropped over. Everything was quiet
in the little enclosure. Linda's shrubs and flowers were the sole
occupants. In the further corner was a tall banana plant whose
broad blades cast a dense shadow. As Ducio took in the scene his
first idea was to conceal himself here and await events. His patience
was equal to the occasion. The long interview between Linda and
her visitor at length terminated, and he drew himself closer under
his shelter as he saw the two emerge from the house and move
slowly, while they conversed, towards the exit to the plaza.
"Oh, Manuel !" he heard the girl say. "Do all you can for Senor
Raymond."
"Rest assured Linda, on that point. Before tomorrow's sun will
have set you will hear from me."
Linda stood in the doorway while she talked in lower tones to
her departing visitor, and Ducio, who had been looking with longing
eyes into the now vacant apartment, thought the opportunity an ex-
cellent one in which to slip into it unseen and be that much nearer
the depository of Bonito's wealth. He had formed no plan, no definite
course to pursue, but seemed to have abandoned himself to the suc-
cessive impulses that grew out of the opportunities of the hour.
Therefore, under the direction of the genius of evil, Ducio found
himself gliding into Linda's room with the noiseless movements of
a cat. The pure atmosphere of the virgin apartment was defiled
the villain's respiration. It was as the mixing of the noisome vapor
of the marsh with the perfume of the flower-clad valley; the invasion
of Satan into an Eden of purity. With a hasty glance about him
he tried the door which Linda had stated to Ruiz had been lockec
by her father, to keep her from interrupting his operations. Tl
door was fastened. There was no time to lose. He must conce*
himself or the screams of Linda on her return would recall tl
visitor from whom she was parting, back to her assistance. He ha<
but two retreats in which to hide. One, under the bed; the other
im
eal
the
iad
GUY RAYMOND. 323
behind a curtain at one end of the room, which depended before a
recess in which were hung some articles of female attire. He chose
(lie latter as the one best calculated to afford him a view of the
H'iiorita's movements. He had scarcely concealed himself behind the
curtain before Linda entered and closed and fastened her door. Wo-
manlike, her first act on turning from the door was to take a look
at herself in .the little mirror which overlooked her modest dressing
table. She gave a little sigh as she turned away from the glass, but
instead of Buiz, the form of Guy was in her mental vision. As it
was late, Linda made preparations to retire and was soon attired in
her snowy nightdress, little suspecting that her movements had been
subjected to the vile scrutiny of the wretch who had betrayed Guy
Raymond. She walked restlessly for a moment to and from the
door leading to the hall and would stop and listen a while as if
to hear the noise of Bonito's movements. No sounds came from the
hall. Finally she drew near the bedside and falling upon her knees
she made the sign of the cross and began saying her prayers. As her
petition rose silently to the God of her religion, was it a halo that
shone about her temples, or was it only the light from the lamp
lluii 1 glistened as it was reflected from her smooth black tresses? Her
position kneeling above the soft folds of her couch, with a proper
com prehension of the faith implied by the act of prayer, and the
air of purity that pervaded the virgin sanctum lent an inspiration
to the scene that impressed even the callous heart of the rascal whose
scrutiny was little less than the rape of virtue. As she was rising
from her knees, the hall door suddenly opened and Bonito poked in
his head.
"Linda, I have finished what I was doing. I am tired, Linda
very tired, and if I sleep too soundly to hear a call listen Linda; if
I am hard to wake, call me. Como estoy fatigado!"
The jailer slammed the door, but did not lock it. Linda fixed her
light for a taper and went to bed.
Ducio poked his head out from behind the curtain several times
before ho ventured to leave his concealment. He watched the repos-
ing figure of the girl and listened to her breathing for some time
before ho concluded that nature had yielded to the claims of slumber
and that Linda was in the land of dreams. When thus convinced,
1 1' 1 irluled from the recess and taking the dim light from the table,
In- approached the bed and held it close to the face of the sleeper.
She was in deep sleep. The long, black lashes rested far upon the
ron IK If 1 cheek. One arm lay in naked beauty half circling her
da inly head, while ihe other crossed the fair bosom that rose and fell
324 GUY RAYMOND.
with her respiration. The eyes of the intruder feasted upon the scene
as, with left arm uplifted to hold the light, he bent forward in con-
templation of the Hebe-like tableau. The twitchings of his features
as his eyes wandered from the couch around the room with a glare
that depicted fierce conflicting passions, indicated the battle raging
within between evil purposes, alike criminal, but disproportionate in
the enormity of their commission. Beauty or booty, fhe weak side
of Ducio's nature necessarily succumbed to a combination of purposes
which controlled, if it did not smother the more brutal instinct.
Discovery in such a place would be ignominious defeat, and would
perhaps lead to detection of his latest crime. The hope of escape
and the passion for plunder proved indirectly the protectors of sleep-
ing beauty. Ducio replaced the light and opened the hall door. It
made a noise, but not enough to disturb the sleeper. The hall was
dark. He remembered where Bonito kept the candles. He relied
upon his memory and the chance that the jailer had made no changes
in the disposition of his room. He had a mind to take Linda's lamp,
but feared if she awoke and found no light she would become sus-
picious that all was not right, and if he should take it into 'Bonito's
room that worthy might be awakened by it and be curious to know
the nature of the intrusion. Ducio's decision was wise, at least he
so concluded when, after gaining Bonito's room, he heard him say:
"The monte pio is not robbed never robbed no mas Bonito qi
m-a-la fortuna. !"
It was evident to the intruder that these words were uttered
sleep and the regrets of the poor old miser were merged into dreai
of his losses.
"I will give him more cause to dream if I can just find a candle,"
thought the villain.
At length Ducio found the desired candle and lost no time
returning to get a light from Linda's taper. He shut the door afi
him as he came out, and then proceeded to detect the open sesan
to the vault below. The lounge was there. He lifted the blanket an(
after a search discovered the hair cord. One pull and the end
the mattress folded back and disclosed the descent. Down the stej
the adventurer proceeded slowly. What was it on the steps?
stooped and picked up a handful of sand and dirt. On inspectk
he found that the same substances were scattered all the way down.
He wondered what it could mean. On reaching the floor below he
found that sand and dirt were scattered here and there mixed wi
bits of stone. He looked for the chest. It stood a little further
The sight of it caused his heart to beat faster. He pulled froi
:
GUY KAYMOND. 325
his pocket the knife he had used on the other occasion and stooping
over to unlock the spring he found that there would be no necessity
for the knife, as the chest was not locked. The discovery weakened
him. Not locked ! He hesitated then raised the lid. The chest
was empty.
CHAPTEE XLV.
From the day that Bonito was resuscitated from the effects of the
blow inflicted by Ducio Half en in the vault, he had not been, to all
appearances, the same man. He mechanically went through the rou-
tine of his prison duties, but all vestige of his humor or his crabbed-
ness had given place to a settled melancholy that depicted itself in
expression and action. He had said more to Guy than to anyone else.
To Linda he merely hinted at a loss and she, accustomed to his
freaks, did not press him for an explanation. He tired of trying to
solve the enigma of the discovery of the entrance to the vault, and
thought constantly of what he should do with the treasure in the
chest. He would repair to the vault and sit for an hour contem-
plating the great burden to his peace of mind and trying to devise
some means for its better security. It* was on one of these occasions
that after much torturing deliberation Bonito hit upon a plan. At
any rate he rose from his stool suddenly, and said in a tone,
much more cheerful than he had of late employed in his solitary
talks :
"I will do it and this very day."
It was the same day that Ducio dealt the fatal blow that sent
the notary to his long account.
Bonito began to carry out his purpose at once. He conveyed to
the vault the necessary tools for his work and timed his operations
so as not to be missed from his post. He carefully marked out a
space in the side wall, and began to cut deeply around the line.
From the way he handled his hatchet and pick and chisel and mallet
he was no novice in the matter. By the early afternoon he had
effected an excavation which seemed to satisfy him as to dimension-,
but he had all around him a quantity of debris whose presence would
indicate to those aware of his possessions the place of their conceal-
ment. Bonito was equal to the occasion. Under the stimulus of
his ruling passion the flabby anatomy became strong and muscular.
He decided to carry the last vestige of the signs of his work to the
region above, after he had securely walled up the opening and the
doubloons in it. When the hoard was secured behind the replaced
326 GUY RAYMOND.
masonry he painter! the mortar-filled cracks so as to resemble
undisturbed mass around it. Now began the tired miser's real w
Up the steep ste{ s lie had to carry, box full at a time, the sand,
dirt and crumbled rock, and it was on these trips from the vault,
bending under the loads of dirt, that Bonito made the shuffling,
labored steps that excited Unix's attention while he was interviewing
Linda. The miser was worn with fatigue when he fetched his last
boxful], "and he deferred until the morrow a final sweeping of
steps and floor. He felt sure that he had not been observed, and
Linda, locked in her room, could have been the only one who had
heard the little noise he had made. The strain removed from the
miser's mind by the fancied safety of his gold ensured him a rest,
which .he had not experienced since his robbery. Now he could
dream of griefs, which erstwhile had prevented his slumber. He
envied the monte pio, who was never robbed, and the beggar at the
church door, who had nothing to lose. He had formed something of
an attachment for the young American who was his prisoner for the
second time, but a stern fact had intervened to wipe from the tablet
the record of the feeling. The miser's heart knew no lasting love
save for his gold. Guy had rescued him perhaps saved him but
with him rested the knowledge of his hoard. For this crime, El
Pajarro might be shot for all he cared. Since his late concealment
of the treasure he had softened, but so little that he still felt callous
as to Guy's fate. Poor Bonito ! Of such how many are there in the
world who make pretensions to Christian virtue and moral worth ?
Callous to human woe, indifferent to human rights, forgetful of
moral aims, ready to sacrifice friendship, love and truth on the altar
of Mammon, they are more to be loathed than the Bonito of our
story, whose ignorance and obscurity debarred him from all con-
ception of the feelings incident to the refinement of culture and a
true philanthropy.
Father Tgnacio had become so worried at the continued absen
of Jose that it was deemed best to make known to the good priest
the true state of affairs. Jose himself became so apprehensive nbont
the trouble and annoyance of his master in regard to himself that
he added by his entreaties to the determination of Guy Raymond
divulge the secret to his reverend friend. He felt sure of the goo
I'a flier's fidelity to* his professed friendship, and that Ruiz upon hi
request would not be betrayed to his enemies. Accordingly the ne
was communicated and the same day the good father visited the cell
:.(!
hi-
ws
GUY RAYMOND. 327
and had a long interview with the two prisoners. The visit was one
of great consolation to the major domo, who had no peace of mind
under Hie pre-existing conditions of his confinement. To Guy the
presence of the priest was cheering inasmuch a's it proved a continued
interest for his welfare and besides afforded him a respite from the
monotony of confinement and the narrow channel of discussion
through which, perforce, flowed the stream of conversation with
the simple Jo-e. The reverend visitor left him in a more cheerful
M'.-ile of mind, notwithstanding the former's assurances that his fate
was sealed so far as the military were concerned. While thus destroy-
ing whatever hope that may have lingered with the prisoner, the
father gave him to understand that he must prepare to effect, by
ic means, an escape from the carcel. While imparting the latter
advice his (one and manner were plainly indicative that a powerful,
and no doubt successful, attempt would be made to wrest him from
ilie hands of his would-be executioners. On his way to the pla/a.
Father Ignacio stopped at ( 'andelario's. The latter was engrossed in
her a vocaiion as concocter of peppery viands for the general public,
and failed to note the presence of the other, until he said in his
cheery voice:
"( 'andelario siempre trabajando \"
She turned quickly and with an obesiance asked the priest's bless-
ing, which he gave her with a smile and a gentle tap on her cheek.
"Si, senoiy" she replied. "Always at work. T have only Carlo
to help me and mv custom has become over large/'
"You would grow rich, senora, if it were not for your charitable
heart/'
"It is true that T make money, your worship, but T do not, care
to save it. If T put it to good use it will be treasure laid up in
her von. The church has need of money and T never refuse my lilile
mite. 'Besides, poor Oandelario, who is now suffering ihe pains of
purgatory, has need of assistance in the way of monthly masses for
hi< -oul and in the good deeds which God permits me 1o perform/'
"Your husband was not worthy of you, but you are to be honored
for your noble efforts to shorten his term of punishment in I lie (lames
of purgatory/'
"There can he no doubt he is in purgatory, mi padre?"
"It, is not for us to judge. He received the last sacraments?"
"Todos."
'-Then, if truly repentant, he is now atoning for his sins in the
flanus of purgation."
328 GUY EAYMOND.
"And the masses will shorten his sufferings by many years?"
"Hija mia, we cannot tell. It may be that your husband's so
is now with God. An hour in purgatory may seem like a year. T
pains are quite equal to those of hell and a moment of torture app
to the poor soul like an age. The sufferings from the flames are n
all ; but are only second to those which arise from an acute conscio
ness of the enormity of sins which have been committed in the flesh,
and the displeasure they have caused the Heavenly Father."
"Then my husband may be released," said the woman with a
brightening countenance. "But," she continued, "I will not run
any risk by stopping the masses, or my prayers for his soul."
"A proper spirit, nina, for if his soul has been released, the
masses will not be said in vain, but will be credited to other poor
souls whose friends on earth are not so fortunate as yourself."
"A wise arrangement of the church," she said, with a grateful
look at the priest.
"Rather a beneficient provision of God through the church mili-
tant," explained the father. "God is not willing that any good act
should be lost. Every act of faith or charity is like the good seed which
springs up in good soil and is fostered throughout its growth by an
environment absolutely congenial to its perfect development."
Candelario was gratified by the explanation and realized a feel
ing of moral excellence, in his approval of her good deeds, th
brought with it resignation to her husband's supermundane fortun
and to her own widowed state.
To his inquiry she informed him that she ministered to the
wants of the young American prisoner as well as to those of the
major domo, and was being satisfactorily remunerated for what she
did. After bestowing his parting blessing on the charitable widow,
Father Ignacio returned to his residence full of meditations about
the disparities existing in human dispositions. He had not far
travel from the saint to the sinner. Crime stalked by the side
virtue. From identical mental structures issued perfect faith a
agnosticism, clear religious perception and contradictory scientific
deduction, traditionary proofs and the ccmtnirirf i<s of inductive con-
clusions. He contrasted the agnosticism of the young American who
was virtuous and honorable, from the ideas lie drew from a sense of
duty, with the implicit faith of the widow whose surplus funds were
donated for the benefit of the dead and the glory of the church.
The good father's meditations were cut short on entering his h
by the presence of the giant form of the mozo of the Navarro's, w
?
GUY RAYMOND. 329
stood respectfully, hat in hand, as if desirous of an interview with
him.
"What, Miguel ! This is a rare place for you. Except to be at
early mass I thought you had condemned yourself to be a recluse on
the premises of Don Juan."
"I have little business away from home, your worship. One must
go to holy mass; but it is true I am very little out, and it is only
now and then that T go to a cockfight."
"You are a good mozo, Miguel, and that is not saying a little,
seeing how very large you are.' 5
"I wish I were good, your worship," said Miguel, with eyes cast
down and awkwardly turning his sombrero in his hand.
"I came to see your worship about about
"Well, what about?"
"It must be under the seal of confession, your worship."
"Well,, proceed."
"About a secret passage."
"A secret passage !"
"Yes, your worship. You know there is a secret vault which is
under the carcel and
"What do you know of this vault? What interest is it to you
who attend to your own affairs so strictly that you have almost quit
going to cockfights?"
"I have no interest that is mine alone but the Senorita Navarro,
who is my mistress and who has the right to have my service, wants
me to lead the way to this vault and
"The Senorita Navarro! Lead her there?"
"Yes, your worship ; but for what purpose I know not, unless it
be to let a prisoner escape."
"Ah ! I see. I see," said Father Ignacio, reflectively. "Well-
well after all it is nature. A kind of natural selection, assimilation
of worth and character. Beatrice is a splendid woman Senor Ray-
mond a splendid man I see; I see."
The priest directed the giant to follow him, and the two repaired
to a private room.
"Why did you wish to see me about this affair?"
"The secret of the vault is a church secret."
"Why so?"
"Because Father Francis, the priest before you, told me so. I
would not have known of the place only from the fact that I was
hired to make some repairs and was ordered not to speak of it outside
330 GUY RAYMOND.
of the confessional. When my mistress asked me to show her the
vault I promised, but since then I thought it best to get your consent.
"And if I refuse consent?"
"Then then I must serve my mistress, mi padre."
"You- are a queer fellow, Miguel. Suppose I should refuse
absolve you for the sin of disobedience?"
"I would be unhappy, mi padre but can my mistress be wrong
in this? If you could see her pretty face look so troubled, and the
tears dancing in her eyes."
"Did that affect you?"
"It went to my heart."
"You have a big heart, Miguel, even for such a big body, and
1 give my consent."
"Gracias, mil gracias."
"And tell the senorita if I can serve her without being known in
the matter, to send me word at once. I know of this vault, Miguel,
but have never seen it. It was used for some purpose by the founders
of San Fernando, but for years it has been closed with nothing on
record as to its contents. Some day I will inspect it through
curiosity."
Miguel left Father Ignacio to ruminate on a new subject the
connection between Guy Raymond and the beautiful Beatrice Navarro.
How had she come to know of this subterranean passage? What plan
had been hit upon to release the prisoner was to him unknown, and
he could not realize how an escape past the guards could be effecte
even after Guy was safely out of prison walls.
CHAPTER XLVI.
"Bravo, Perry! That's a fine fellow."
"Not a whit bigger than the last, Mr. Hamilton."
"Boy, you are a born Nimrod. Why can't I catch a fish
that?"
"It's because you are not used to it. You have got to make yo
bait attractive. See how I hook this lively minnow through the
tail so as not to hurt him bad. He will kick and wriggle in the
water and soon get the attention of a trout. The trout is curious
to know what's t^e mater with the minnow and swims around him.
When he gets near he seems to get mad because the little fellow don't
try to escape and snaps him up whether he is hungry or not. And
.
GUY RAYMOND. :;::i
then it's owing to the depth von give your ha it It should be half
the depth of the water for game fish like the trout."
"You would grace a professorship in the art piscatorial, my boy.
I will see that you are not overlooked when the future university
of the coming republic will have been founded. I will observe your
directions and try my luck. See! Is that right? The hook does
not touch a vital part. But don't the little scamp wriggle. I reckon
it hurts him. Now, there seems to be a good place in that cluster
of lillios where the waier is eddying in the blue open space, and a
sunken log just shows its moss-covered bark as it slants towards (In-
bottom. I know there must be a monster trout lurking in the shadow
of that covering of watercress, ready to spring upon any prey that
will promise a breakfast. What, Perry! Another?' 7
"That's what, Mr. Hamilton. I got him while you were spouting."
"You are entirely too practical to be a professor. Perry, 1 retract
my promise about the university."
"Throw in your line, Mr. Hamilton. They're commencing to
bite."
"I could fish in the Yazoo, but hang me if I've any luck in the
San Antonio. Well, here goes."
Hamilton threw his line carefully into the inviting looking place
near the sunken log. He had not long to wait before the float
bobbed under a little and reappeared, reinforced by a bubble, then it
was slowly drawn under until it disappeared beneath a broad leaf of a
lily. Perry looked on, amused at his companion, whose manner indi-
cated that he was expecting a splendid catch. Hamilton gave a vigor-
ous pull, only to find his line fastened. Patient attempts to disengage
it were made, until finally a small turtle showed himself on the log,
with the line protruding from his mouth, distinctly visible in the
clear water. The line was foul above the hook and the turtle, securely
fastened, had taken his position in full view.
"Perry, I'm disgusted," said Hamilton. "We have plenty fish
for two messes."
"You want to go to camp?"
"Yes, just as soon as I rout that devilish turtle."
So saying, Hamilton armed himself with several stones, and
began a vigorous assault on the object of his wrath, whom he soon
caused to leave his position.
"If I had my rifle here !" he exclaimed, half out of breath.
" v couldn't have hit him."
"You couldi
"Why not?"
:
332 GUY RAYMOND.
"The distance from the top of the water to the turtle was deceit
ing. If you had run a straight stick down to him from the surface
to his back on the line of your sight, the stick would have looked
bent or broken right where it went into the water. This would
have been a difficulty in your aiming and your ball would have
gone above the turtle/'
"From the crude way you have expressed this truth is prooi
that your knowledge is practical, and comes from the book of nature.
You are an observer, Perry. That noddle of yours is brim ull
of undeveloped genius. IT1 carry the fish. You rescue the remnants
of my tackle and bring the poles. The boys will open their eyes
at our success/'
The reader will doubtless welcome to the front again some of
the characters who have been left aside during the narration of
other events. The scene was above the city, just beyond the old
mill seen by Ducio and Josefa from the walls of the Alamo, at the
time they were interrupted in their tete-a-tete by Father Ignacio.
The greater portion of the Texan forces, now reduced by the
departure of discontented volunteers for their homes to about six
hundred men, were encamped in the vicinity. Scouts were ever
on the alert, led by such leaders as Deaf Smith, Karnes and others,
and repeated demonstrations in force were made to draw the Mexi-
cans from their stronghold. A number of horses started by the
garrison for the Rio Grande had been captured, and a bloody affair
known as the grass fight had occurred, in which a severe loss was
inflicted upon the besieged. In all of these forays and collisions with
the enemy, our mess had had liberal representation, and all had
commanded by their conduct the respect of their fellow soldiers.
The mess was comfortably situated on the right bank of the beautiful
river within a stone's throw of the old mill, where they had impro-
vised a hut which held whatever effects they boasted in the way of
bedding and camp utensils. The supply of all kinds was meager,
and the hut was merely utilized in rainy weather, or as a night
repository for certain articles. The mildness of the climate had
made outdoor sleeping under the branches of the trees preferable
to piling- into the narrow precincts of a hut.
The sun was only just above the eastern hills when the two
fishermen returned to display the trophies of their morning's sport.
The kettle was steaming above the fire that, burned to glowing
coals, was being replenished with small brushwood by a well-known
figure, who, turning in their direction as he heard the familiar
GUY RAYMOND. 333
voices of the approaching messmates, disclosed the features of Mr.
Trigg.
"What! All alone?" said Hamilton, as he looked about for
i.lio others.
"Yes, for the present. Roach has gone for a bit of wood."
"And Jones?"
"He's down the bank for water."
"I wish Karnes were back from the scout. He'll miss a treat
with these fish for breakfast," said Hamilton.
"Don't let that bother you, Mr. Hamilton. I've got the hooks
and as long as they last Til get plenty fish," replied Perry.
"Not if I go along and lose a hook every time."
"Hello, boys! What luck?" cried Nathan Roach, throwing down
a huge turn of brush and small wood.
"See!" replied Perry, holding up a half dozen fine specimens
of black bass.
"As big- as I ever seed," said Nathan, admiringly.
"I'll bet Jones has seen specimens a dozen times the size."
"Now, Mr. Hamilton, do please give Jones a rest; ye were near
fightin' last night."
"Here he is now. Jones, did you ever see anything to beat this
catch in an hour's time?" asked the Mississippian.
"Well yes. Those are large enough for this country, but the
bas? in the east go as high as twelve pounds."
"And I will wager that six pounds and a half is the heaviest
bass ever known east, west, north, or south."
"You have not traveled or seen much, friend Tipton, or you
would not make the wager."
"We all said you would quote India and insist that these noble
fish are minnows. These are about the size of the bait you used to
catch the eastern bass."
"Come; give in boys, for here's Karnes and his crowd. It's a
good thing we was just off of duty last night, or we'd 'a' been ordered
out with him."
Nathan was right. A little knot of horsemen appeared over the
rise from the west and in a few moments their gallant leader, Karnes,
was in their midst.
"Here is a letter that- I should have got sooner, I think," said
Karnes. "Hamilton, will you please read it? It is doubtless of
jrroat iiii|M>rJ;im-f to your friend, Mr. Trigg-, as a report reached
UK,-, tlirmn<h ;i deserter, that he had been sentenced to be shot."
334 GUY RAYMOND.
"God forbid that it is too late, sir/' said Mr. Trigg,, now
attention to what was to follow.
Hamilton took the communication, which was still sealed,
having opened it, read from it as follows :
Sir: The plans made for the capture of General A. are per-
fected, and nothing remains now but to carry out what we have
determined upon in our last interview. It is most important that
there be no delay whatever in the time agreed upon, as it will be
impossible to rescue the prisoner from the power of his would-be
murderers if there should be any postponement of the start down
the river. You will find me ready at the place of meeting to join
you and to post you of any change which the nature of the under-
taking and succeeding circumstances may yet suggest. You know
my challenge and answer, and I hereby communicate to you the
countersign for tonight, which I had to pay well for. Your? for
Texas and liberty, M. R.
Saturday, 5 A. M.
"That means tonight, men," said Karnes. "I will explain to
the rest of you later. Mr. Trigg is already posted. Manual Ruiz
has been in town for some days as a spy, to plan the capture of
General Almonte, who has been in correspondence with Edward Grit-
ton. Gritton is a spy on our people. The result is that Ruiz has
planned an expedition to go into the town and capture Almonte.
He has marked out more work for the boys who are to go, and that
will be to rescue a young American prisoner under sentence to be
shot, and who is no other than the young friend of our comrade,
Trigg Guy Raymond. No man will be allowed to go unless he
volunteers for the service, and it will require just about the number
in our mess. If Mr. Trigg will remain to keep the camp, I will
get a Mexican in his place who knows every inch of the town, and
who is reliable and plucky."
"No, sir, I want to be along," said Mr. Trigg.
"But, Mr. Trigg," interposed Hamilton, "remember you should
not run a risk of your life in this instance, for I want you and
Guy Raymond to meet and settle some matters. Think; if we
should rescue him and you should be killed. Then you are the
oldest and should have charge of the camp, and let us younger fry
take the chances. Besides, it is very important that this Mexican
should be along in case we wanted to play greasers on them."
"I see I am to be put upon the shelf. Sorra the day when I
should be too old to do my duty. Fix it to suit ye, but I'll put
GUY RAYMOND. 335
myself against the likes of you for any work that's up. An' who's
to row the boat?"
"Why, Jones and myself/' replied Hamilton. "He used to row
Lord Dalrymple's boat, I will wager, and as for myself, I belonged
to the best rowing club in Mississippi. Trust us for rowing."
"What'n thunder does we want with a boat?" asked Nathan,
stretching his long anatomy and poking his head over Hamilton's
shoulder.
"Never mind, Roach ; we are only going to sail into the enemy's
lines. They have no idea that we possess a navy, but we're going
to show them a gringo trick."
"You'll have to muffle your oars ; but I'll fix them for ye," said
Mr. Trigg.
"The boat needs caulking," said Jones. "I'll attend to that."
"That's right, boys; divide up the work and all go at it so soon
as we discuss these savory smelling fish that Perry has already in
the frying pan. Let me see: Mr. Trigg will fix the oars; Jones
will bail the boat; Nathan will clean the guns and see to the
ammunition; Perry will put a meal's grub in our haversacks
"And you will play the gentleman, Mr. Hamilton," said Jones.
"No, Jones. I'll overlook the whole preparations and see that
no part will be neglected."
'That's Karnes' business," suggested Nathan. "'Pears to me
you're to be the lazy drone of the crowd, as usual. You needn't talk
about Jones lying; you offset him by your 'tarnel laziness."
"Never mind, Roach. You'll say after the thing is over that I
was no drone."
CHAPTER XLVII.
The activity among the members of the mess was unabated until
a late hour in the afternoon, when Inspector Hamilton reported to
Kjirnes that every detail had been attended to and there was nothing
left, undone that would be necessary for the successful outcome of
II ic expedition, so far as the entry by the river into the heart of
the. enemy's lines was concerned. It remained for Ruiz's part of
the programme to stand the test of practicability. The hours stole
slowly by, testing sorely the patience of the bold men who were to
take their very lives in their hands purely for the love of adventure,
granting a possible modicum of patriotism or a touch of humane
;in \icty for the fate of a countryman under sentence of death. At
(he landscape grew dim under the deepening shades of evening,
336 GUY KAYMOND.
as: the
which soon merged in the gloom of a moonless night, veiling
forms of nature and giving spectre shapes to objects within the
easy radius of the camp fires. As the night advanced apace the
silver host which studded the autumnal sky developed a maturer
beauty and forced the deeper shadows to own their luster. The quiet
of the night made audible the low murmurs of the current, which
washed the base of the steep river bank, where floated the frail craft
destined to bear to the brink of danger human lives, dear to them-
selves and yet more precious to distant hearts. Are such and kindred
adventures correctly in the category of heroism? Yes; when they
are born of resistance to wrong to oppression. But war begets the
lowest types of character, as does its antithesis, the lais&ez faire
indifferentism of a lasting public inertia which awakes to no appeal
for a return to purer social and political methods. The heroic in
character could be so easily turned to the channels of human duty;
to swell the current of human brotherhood. But a questionable civi-
lization bars the way to lasting peace, to an attainable culture that
would bring to a clo&e, not only the reign of personal despotism and
personal tyranny, but would immolate on the altar of universal liberty
the tyranny and despotism of class. To what heights would that
civilization ascend which would accord all natural rights to natural
opportunities; which would practice the grand theories, pure and
simple, which fell in burning words from the lips of the founder of
Christianity, and which yet form the texts of sermons from a million
pulpits. There is heroism and heorism, but the greatest hero is he
who had duty for his guide and justice for his mentor, and who
follows the directions of the one and the admonitions of the other.
The waiting men stood around the camp fire, Hamilton's jests
eliciting characteristic replies from Jones or Roach, while Mr. Trigg
appeared meditative and Perry quiescent. The old man was not
well satisfied with the position assigned to him; yet he mentally
admitted that Hamilton's arguments were to the point and that
he would perhaps better subserve the interests of Guy Ray-
mond by avoiding the risks of the expedition. Karnes had gone
just before dark to fetch his Mexican guide, and it was with no
little satisfaction that his men beheld him appear with that indi-
vidual, ready to depart. As there was nothing to delay them, the
men filed down the bank, responding to Mr. Trigg's "good luck to
ye/ boys," by hearty good-byes.
Now that serious work was before them, Karnes impressed each
one with the necessity for silence and prompt obedience to all com-
GUY RAYMOND. 337
mands. He assigned the duty of rowing the boat to TTnmilton and
Jones, while he took position in the stern to guide the craft with a
wide paddle in lieu of a rudder. Perry, Roach and the Mexican
guide were assigned places, with directions to keep a sharp lookout,
as the boat proceeded, to detect the signals of friends or the presence
of foes. All being ready, the little craft was pushed into the stream,
the oarsmen dipped their oars, then with easy strokes, gave her
headway, while Karnes directed her bow down the river. There was
little noise, the muffled rowlocks worked to perfection and the light
plash of the oarblades were not distinguishable from the noise of
the rapid current.
"Just give her motion, boys," commanded Karnes. "Only a
little swifter than the current, so I can keep her head right."
Now and then the boat shot into a pool where the river deepened,
;m 1 the rowers would bend to their work, while the steerer peered
forward through the darkness, to avoid overhanging branches of the
trees lining either bank, that here and there bent low above the
surface of the water, or to discover whatever obstructions might exist,
where a sudden incline of the river bed produced a rapid or the
stream turned abruptly from its course. Navigation, however, was
to be a minor danger in the perilous expedition upon which the
boat's crew had embarked. The river had been selected as the
safest avenue through which to enter, without detection, the enemy's
lin>s, strongly guarded at all points against the invasion of every
character of force, that should menace them by field or road or foot-
path. Mexican shrewdness did not suspect the presence of a boat,
where no such contrivance had been known to exist in all the archives
of Bexar from the time the first Franciscan had planted his foot
upon the banks of the picturesque San Antonio, down to the present
administration. And perhaps a chapter quite diverse in its details
from the present record would have added more tragedy to the story
of Guy Raymond if among the rebel Texans there had not been
numbered a clever boat maker, who employed some of his spare
hours in his favorite occupation. The result was the production of
a very sightly boat, superior in its excellence to the results promised
by the materials obtainable for its construction. The idea of using
the boat was conceived by Ruiz, while he was maturing a plan to
({jiry out the mission entrusted to him by the Texan commander.
The rescue of the young American prisoner was but an incident,
rMllin.ir in MS a parallel, a necessity presenting itself and appealing
to \\batever of human feeling lay within the hearts of the adven-
turous spirits who were to constitute the media for the prosecution
338 GUY EAYMOND.
of the original purpose. Ruiz's idea at once commended itself to
the commander, and as Guy's fate had become blended with the
outcome of the project, the former had urged the selection of Karnes
and the members of the mess who had, through Mr. Trigg, become
more than interested in the fortunes of the youthful prisoner. P
dilections of such a nature, Ruiz philosophically contended, would
additional force towards a successful accomplishment of the dual
purpose, and in the estimation of the generous Mexican, the minor
and incidental aim of the expedition had absorbed in importance
its previous object.
The little boat sped onward. The injunction to keep silent had
been heeded by the men, even by Hamilton, who more than once was
tempted to say something at the expense of his comrade's oarsman-
ship. Indeed, he did whisper once or twice to Jones, when the
latter awkwardly nudged him with his elbow, while bringing his oar
handle too low on the breast: "Come, Jones, remember the Bast
Indian stroke deeper blade and higher handle. My ribs won't stand
two more pokes/'
"Silence there, Mr. Hamilton ! Raise your oar, sir quick, and
duck your heads there. A little more and that limb would have
raked the boat."
Karnes' warning came just in time to prevent an accident. In-
deed, the darkness hanging over the river was almost impenetrable.
The starlight could not counteract the shadows from the banks and
foliage, only a silver glow showed itself above, the contemplation of
which but augmented the difficulty of seeing surrounding objects.
"I heerd a voice, Karnes," said Nathan, from the bow of the boat.
"Hark! Men, lay upon your oars," commanded Karnes, in
firm undertone.
All was silent. The boat, which had just entered a wide wate
hole, deep and almost still, was left to spend its momentum, until
it hardly moved. Karnes controlled the course with his paddle, but
so noiselessly that the breaking of a twig on the bank was clear
and distinct to the ear. Still further cautions for silence were
whispered from the stern to the bow. Roach had the Indian ears
of the party. He alone had heard the voice. All but Karnes
doubted his correctness. He had served with Nathan and had learned
to respect his ears. After a few minutes' suspense, the Mexican guide
Leaned over to the commander and whispered:
"The picket is camped upon the bank. Better keep quiet
while longer."
The moments dragged.
:
le
GUY RAYMOND. 339
Finally the party were startled by the sound of voices in the
Mexican tongue.
"What was it?"
"I was sure I heard something."
"What was it like?"
"Like a paddle or oar against a boat, and it seemed to me I saw
^something a little lighter than the shadows pass along."
"Que tonto! Don't you know these people up here never had a
boat? If there is a boat in Bexar I have yet to see it. It is one of
your visions, Santos. You are always seeing things."
"There is no mistaking the noise made in a boat on the water.
A fellow's eyes and imagination may deceive him, but his ears are
apt to be correct."
"That comes of you being once a sailor. Sailors are supersti-
tious. Come, let us pack the water up the bank, for it is nearly
time for us to go on guard."
Nathan had correct ears after all, and it was well that silence
reigned in the boat, as the speakers on the bank had maintained a
death-like quiet, in order to confirm Santo's first impression. No
other sounds having succeeded, Santos' companion disclosed their
presence by his question. The water carriers indicated their progress
up the bank by their lessening voices, which finally died out in the
distance.
Karnes, having waited for this moment, now slowed the boat
along until it had made a headway of a hundred yards or more.
"Now, boys, pull steadily and quietly."
Hamilton answered in a whispered "Aye, aye, sir."
"No need of answering, sir. We are past the pickets, and now,
Nathan, keep your ears and eyes open for anything that may turn up."
"Mr. Guide, are we near the place?" inquired Karnes of the
Mexican.
"Another bend in the river."
"Put your hand on my knee when we get to the right place."
The bend was rounded. A swift current swept them past a
rapid, the boat's bottom grazed the rocky bed, and they glided into
a body of water whose smooth surface reflected the sparkling firma-
ment.
The guide's hand was placed upon the commander's knee. Karnes
put two fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle.
A voice from the right bank called:
"Karnes."
The answer given was:
340 GUY BAYMOND.
"Kuiz."
"Hold up, Mr. Jones; Mr. Hamilton, pull away."
The boat swung around to the right,
"Now, both together."
The bow grated upon the sand and pebbles. Nathan
ashore and grasped Euiz by the hand.
"Hold her to the bank, boys. I must have a talk with our man*
before we go further. Keep quiet and you'll soon know the road
we've got to follow."
So saying, Karnes left the boat, greeted Euiz cordially, and took
him aside for consultation.
CHAPTEE XLVIIT.
The day on which Father Ignacio called at the carcel he remained
sufficiently long to encroach upon the dinner hour of that institution,
much to the annoyance of the irascible jailer, who upon this particu-
lar time was anxious to have the hour go by speedily, and had ac-
tually anticipated noon by twenty minutes of the sun dial.
"These padres are like old women ; they never know how long they
stay to gossip, senor," Bonito said to Guy, as he placed Candelario's
basket in the cell.
"What can it matter to you, Bonito? You have time, and
spare. You should not begrudge me the good Father's visit."
"Time, senor ! I have much to do ; much to do today, senor, am
I would be thankful if you will hurry up, you and the other, and eat
your dinner so that this afternoon a poor devil may attend to
business."
"Perhaps I can help you, Bonito. Let me assist you if it be an;
thing around the carcel or your quarters. You know that if put
my parole I will make no attempt to escape."
"I would not be bothered with help ; you are too wise now, too
wise about my business. Besides, senor, I have orders to allow no lib-
erty to you whatever ; none whatever, senor, and to disobey and be
discovered would be to lose my place, which would be no loss as to
pay, but then at my age one hates to change, senor."
"I see, Bonito. As a condemned person, condemned to death,
strict vigil must be kept over me. It seems to me they might wait
until time for the death watch. Bonito, is there no chance to escape?
Would you hold me here until these tyrants get ready to murder nn
for no crime, for no offense against the law?"
"How can I help you, senor? If you were to escape, what woul(
:;
:
GUY RAYMOND. 341
happen? Bonito would not only lose his place. bui his life.
bullets intended for you would ruler uiv vitals. There is no help for
it; no help for it, sen or. v
"Not if you should get a hundred doubloons?"
"Said you a hundred, senor, or two hundred ?"
"Well, two; say two hundred."
"If it were two and fifty ; or say three hundred good bright doub-
loons but no senor no there is no use to talk of it. A thousand,
with no chance to fly from the devils who would sit in judgment. A
thousand nor two nor three Oh, senor ! it cannot be. T pity you ;
yes, pity, but who pities Bonito? Eobbed of what he has toiled for
and almost murdered by the devil who robbed him."
"You are right, Bonito, to refuse a bribe. I was but trying you.
Tf you have a post of duty, fill it well, be it never so repugnant to
your tastes and feelings. A test of virtue lies in filling a post at all
whose duties outrage the finer feelings of human nature. Tf a trust
displeased me because of the involvement of my ideas of honor and
moral duty, I would resign it. The discovery of my false position
would terminate my connection with and make it impossible to betray
it."
"You are a brave pajarro, as I said at first. Bonito is a coward.
I hate my work, but must do it or be shot. And yet, I have not the
courage to give it up no more than I have to let you escape for twenty
pesos. But, senor, are you not alarmed at the idea of being shot?
Yo'i look as contented as if you would be free tomorrow, and the
fellow over there is always sleeping 1 as if he were not going to be food
for the worms in a day or two. You are a queer pair, senor ; a queer
pair of birds."
"There is no use fretting over it, Bonito."
"I am glad you are through eating. Scrape his dinner on Ihnf
plate. It looks as if he would never get sober. Ruiz was once a
caballero, senor, puro caballero. Now, senor, I am off. Tf you will
want anything tell it now, for you will not see me until the night
comes."
With assurances that nothing would be needed, the jailer shuffled
off after securing the cell door. Jose, who was impatiently awaiting
this event, came out of his corner and did ample justice to the con-
tents of the dish upon which Guy had placed his meal. Thr la Her
drew from his pocket a piece of paper that he had found in fho
basket and, standing close to llu 1 gr.-iied door. rr;id ;i message from
T?ui/c. He \vroie in Ihe prisoner iliai rvrrylliing had been arranged
for his escape outside of the city and that he must be out of his cell,
342 GUY RAYMOND.
either in the jailer's house or near it, so as to be within call, by elev
o'clock on Sunday night. If he should discover that he had
the power to release himself, his absence from the rendezvous wou
be taken as proof of the fact, and the jail would be raided to free hi
to provide himself with whatever arms he would find available ; to co
municate with Linda, if possible, and secure whatever assistance, dir
or indirect, she could offer through influence with or deception of her
father. The rescuers would be in need of every favorable circum-
stance that could be raised towards facilitating their venture or lessen-
ing its peril.
Guy grew meditative over the contents of the paper. He was
entirely in the dark as to the means to be used for his release, or the
method of gaining an entrance into the heart of a garrisoned town
ever on the qui vive as the beseiged of an active and fearless enemy.
He concluded that it was about time to make sure that an escape
through the vault was open to him. He had not entered it since the
day he had found the jailer there in an insensible state and con-
cluded to let Jose into the secret, and that afternoon, especially, as
Bonito was to be out of the way, he would explore the subterranean
chamber and fix his triggers for an easy passage from the cell to the
hall. As some time had elapsed since Jose had completed his repast
and Guy had mentally digested a plan of escape and its possible success
or failure, he concluded to draw out Jose's opinion, of the vault as a
means of egress from their cell.
"It will, of course, depend upon our getting into it, and then af
we get into it, upon our getting out again," said Jose.
"We certainly will be able to get back here, Jose, if we don't fi
another way out."
"It is forbidden ground, and I have heard it hinted that the
spirits of numbers who have been led from there to be shot make thei
visits to the vault."
"Afraid of spirits, Jose?"
"I am afraid to meet them."
"If there be such they are harmless. It is from the living
we receive injury, and they are the ones to be dreaded."
"Everyone has his notions, Senor Raymond. I have the grea
dread of meeting a ghost."
"Well, Jose, I am going to get into that vault this very day, and
will go alone if you do not go with me. I am going to soe if there
is not a way to get out at flu; other end. You remember luivin<j told
me that it extends from Bonito's house towards this cell and I thi
I can find the entrance in this floor."
GUY RAYMOND. 343
u l only told you how run the legend. I have no other proof?
that the vault runs underneath us. I would advise you to think well
before going into this place if you should find the way to it. It may
bring upon you the curse of the saints, which will be the worse for
yon, seeing that you are already in bad odor with them as a heretic.
Senor, take the advice of a friend."
"1 fully appreciate your anxiety for myself if I do not feel the
force of your logic. 1 will invoke the aid of Saint An what the
deuce is that noise. Jose?"
This question was put to the major domo on account of a pound-
ing noise which arose from the depths below. It came in dull thuds,
which struggled up through the masonry with singular regularity,
making the floor vibrate very sensibly to one standing upon it.
"It is n iruo warning to you, senor/' said Jose, looking grave and
lisi oiling intently.
"The spirits signifying their disapprobation?"
"No mas no menos."
The noise proceeded pick pick pick while the prisoners ceased
talking, the one in actual dread of supernatural displeasure, the other
from sheer curiosity to solve the cause of the noise. Guy was not very
long in coming in a conclusion. The statement of the jailer that lie
would be busy during the afternoon, with the knowledge that he had
a deal of treasure in the vault which he was anxious to conceal still
more securely, since the raid made upon it, and the knowledge of the
secret lay at least with two outsiders, had doubtless put Bonito to
work to l'n ni ish better concealment for his gold.
Guy, of course, did not tell his suspicions to his fellow prisoner,
bnl continued to d^aw -lose out on the probably supernatural source
of the noise until he grew tired of the amusement.
When, after a long iinie. I he thumping ceased, he concluded to lake
in a view of the mysterious operations of Jose's alleged spirits.
Acting upon this intention, he secured his former tool and after awhile
had cleared the great square flag of all contact with its neighbor
stones. Jose looked on with an expression of unqualified disapproba-
tion during the progress of the work. All being ready. Guy invoked
his assistance 1 to raise the flag, but was persistently refused by the
superstitious counterfeit of the gallant Euiz. Seeing no other re-
course he concluded to proceed as on the former occasion and. after a
rather diilicult lift, he had the salisfaction of seeing I he weighty cover
of Ihe trap in a veriical position. It was done so noiselessly ihat it
couM have disturbed none of tin* supernatural inhabitants of the dark
apartment that was now disclosed to the eyes of the astonished Jose.
344 GUY EAYMOND.
"May the all powerful Saint Anthony protect us!" he exclaim
as he retreated to the other end of the cell.
h I" cautioned Guy, as he arose from a peep into the place
The other relapsed at once into silence nnd covered his eyes.
The look below with a subsequent scrutiny of affairs solved tli
mystery to Guy's practical mind, while his companion was in absolute
dread lest some supernatural expression of displeasure was about to
occur.
The first glance disclosed a glimmer of a, light just making its
appearance, followed by Bonito holding up a candle. Guy looked up
and silenced Jose, then returned to his surveillance of his unbribable
turnkey. Bonito was at the work of concealing his treasure, and not
knowing that the opening in the cell had been discovered, he felt
perfectly safe from espionage from that direction. When Guy wit-
nessed the transfer of the contents of the chest to the hole in the wall,
he deemed the superstition, which confined the number of witnesses
to himself, a fortunate circumstance for Bonito. When the latter
had concluded his operations it was, as the reader knows, quite well
into the night. The intermission in his work was confined to the
duty of attending to the prisoners' supper. This Guy received at the
door w r ith an immediate return of the basket and assurances that
nothing more was needed of him.
the
CHAPTER XL1X.
arried
Despite Jose's fears, he was fast asleep when Bonito had carri
his last load of dirt to the hall and bade Linda good night. Guy,
less material, witnessed the disappearance of the light and, hearing-
no return of the tired worker, resolved to' explore the scene of his
operations. To this end he lit his candle and cautiously descended
through the opening arid found himself on the flagged floor below.
He experienced a tremor through his frame as the damp air of t
chamber penetrated to his skin. Before him the empty chest la\
closed. Directing the light against the wall where he had seen the
miser place his money, he was much astonished to find no apparent
traces of the closing up of the hole that must have received it, A
very close scrutiny, however, revealed the careful work, whose perfec-
tion had been doubtless inspired by tlie superlative earnest ness of the
money worshipper to conceal the evidences of his secret. Guv turned
from the inspection to view the opposite steps loading to the jailor's
nbode. He ascended to Hie top, bill could not discover the lever th
would lift the trap which barred the exit. Concluding to not inves
MII
i
GUY RAYMOND.. 345
gate! further until the morrow, he returned to his cell and to his
pallet, not to sleep, however,, for the prospect of escape on the morrow,
coupled with the manoeuvres of Bonito in the vault, caused his mind
to wander from the probabilities of success in plans of Ruiz to the
miser whose soul was so engrossed with the safety of his treasure.
In the hope of better wooing sleep he put out his light. Still, as the
minutes grew to an hour, he realized no nearer approach to a disposi-
tion to sleep. How he envied Jose, whose pronounced respiration was
ever and anon broken by the catches of a snore. The idea struck him
to renew his light and try the plan to read himself sleepy. To carry
out this purpose, he rose to a sitting position, when he was startled
by the appearance of a light shining faintly at first, then growing more
distinct, from the opening leading into the vault. Bonito, he conclud-
ed, had been also lying awake and, to occupy himself, had returned
to become satisfied on some doubted point which had raised itself in
his speculations as to the complete removal of the evidences of his
new place of concealment for his money bags. At any rate, he would
take a peep at the jailer and amuse himself by watching him. The
cell was dark and there was little chance of the miser's inspection of
the cell opening.
So Guy peeped below.
He was not a little startled to see instead of the rotund figure
of Bonito, a tall, spare form with sharp well defined features and dark
complexion, all made plainly distinct by the light of the uplifted
candle, as its holder contemplated the empty chest at his feet. From
the description given of Ducio Halfen by Jose, Guy was satisfied that
the intruder was the Creole, and that he it was who had made the
assault on the miser and had despoiled him of his doubloons. Doubt-
less he had returned to make another inroad on the savings of his vic-
tim, but the latter had forestalled him in the nick of time. The in-
truder might extend his exploration to the stairs leading to .the cell.
At this thought, Guy reached for the knife that had served him in
cleaning around the flag still standing upon its edge above him. The
swarthy face below wore an expression of disappointment. The look
of baffled intent mingled with the scowl of some evil purpose which
might mean mischief worse than robbery. The floor and walls were
scanned with the earnestness of intense desire; then seizing the stool
Ducio struck the floor flags all around him, as if sounding to discover
a hollow place whence had issued the evidences of the sand and debris
on the unswept floor and stairway. It did not seem to occur to him
that the walls could be excavated. Ducio sat down to think.
Thought, however, afforded neither a clue to the whereabouts of
346 .Guy RAYMOND.
the treasure nor any panacea for the acuteness of the disappointm
which racked his mind.
Ideas suggestive of revenge crowded upon him. Revenge for d
priving him of his anticipated booty. What use was all that hoard
which the chest, now serving him for a seat, had once contained.
Fool ! Why had he not packed it all away to a place of concealment
when the opportunity was not wanting? His thoughts flew for an
instant to the island treasure, and he started suddenly from his seat.
"I'll stick around here until that, too, will be gone."
But the impatience of his present predicament reseized him with
still more potent force and raged within him, expending itself in a rapid
pacing of the chamber, followed by vigorous blows on the floor. Per-
haps there was a latent influence in the vast sum which a thin crust
of rock concealed, and which now and then, as he moved about, was
in less than reaching distance; an influence undefined and mysteri-
ous that held him just without the bounds of prescience and goaded
him to the verge of desperation.
Guy viewed the whole scene with varying emotions.
Amusement at the other's dilemma, which a word from himself
could dissipate as to the locality of the former contents of Bonito's
chest, first succeeded the surprise of the intruder's identity. Indig-
nation followed when he thought of the rascality that made him take
advantage of the jailer's hospitality. Then he became alarmed when
on reflecting as to the means used to enter the vault, he began to
speculate as to whether the robber had used intimidation or violence,
or both. How had he got into the jailer's apartments? Not through
the court, for there was the sentinel. He knew of no other entrance
to the place except that through Linda's garden and her apartment.
The latter thought aroused him to almost the pitch of excitement.
The scoundrel may have committed the crime of murder as a necessary
step to gain access to the hall. Guy grasped his knife still tighter.
Ducio, after having paused for some minutes in deep study, seeme
to have suddenly fastened upon a purpose. He took the candle fro
the chest and made directly for the steps down which he had descend
So soon as Guy became satisfied of the other's purpose, he lighted
his candle and, shaking Jose roughly, caused him to spring up an
glance wildly about.
"For Dios ! senor ; my arm is but flesh and bone."
"Pardon me, Jose, but I wanted to awake you and do it quickl
Clear your eyes and open your ears and listen to what I tell you.''
Whatever may have been the purpose of Ducio, ;i< interpreted by
the watcher, his actions will probably be the best indicators of the con-
clusion which terminated his few moments' reflection.
GUY EAYMOND. 347
He gained the hall and placing his light on one end of the lounge,
he cautiously approached the door of the jailer's room. Here he
listened. The regular breathing of the inmate denoted slmnhcr and
Ducio, returning for his light, entered the chamber. The light he
placed upon the table so as not to shine upon the sleeper's eyes.
He then made a search of the entire room and feeling stealthily under
a pillow of the bed, he drew forth a long dagger.
"As I expected/' thought Ducio. "Now we will see if the old
rascal will tell."
He caught the jailer by the great toe and gave it a vigorous twist.
"Carrajo !" swore Bonito, jumping to a sitting position. "Can a
dream be so true ?"
Ducio had dodged below the foot of the bed.
"Santa Maria! But that* rock did not fall on my foot, dream or
no dream. I thought I put out the light, but I was so tired/' he
continued, yawning, "that I forgot it. But the more I get awake
the more I wonder. I dreamed that a piece of that rock from the wall
fell upon my toe as I was closing up the last open place, and the dream
was so clear that I felt the pain in this toe."
As Bonito said this in an audible tone, he raised his foot on the
table close to the candle and examined the wrenched member.
"Por mi vida ! There is no mash, but the pain was there, and I
feel it yet, And yet that tonta Linda will not believe in dreams.
I only wish she could have such a dream and such a toe mashing, or toe
paining, for really there is no mash. How hard I must have been
dreaming !"
Bonito, after sundry other looks at the toe which Ducio had twisted,
took the 'candle from the table and placing it in a small alcove near
the head of his bed, blew it out and retired again to rest, but not to
sleep for wondering about his dream and how mistaken he had been
in supposing that he had blown out his candle when he first went to
bed.
Ducio had not counted on the dream nor on the extinguishment
of the light, nor had he anticipated the voluntary acknowledgment
from Bonito in his own self communion that lie had hid his money in
the wall and not the floor of the vault. He had calculated on a
forced confession and an indication of the place from Bonito. Still
he dreaded the consequences of force and what it might lead to, and
concluded that he would return to the vault and sound the walls. The
work was fresh and a careful inspection must disclose tin- place.
He must have a light, but the candle \vas out of the question, it
was too near the head of the occupant of the bed. He concluded to
348 GUY RAYMOND.
less;
go to Linda's room and get her light. Tt was a risk, hut the
the two. He glided, like a snake, from the room on. all fours. As-
suming an erect position on entering the hall, he groped his way to
Linda's room, which he was about to enter when he perceived a light
emerging from the open trap in the end of the lounge. Sure that he
had left the vault in darkness, he was mystified at the sight.
Ducio listened.
Confident that he heard whispered voices, he was also certain
that the light was getting stronger, indicating that some one holding
it was approaching nearer.
Goaded by the sense of danger and irritated by the intervention
of an additional obstacle to the success of his contemplated dispolia-
tion of the miser., Ducio retreated within the room. His first precau-
tion was to provide for an escape. Tfi this end he unfastened and
placed ajar the garden exit from the apartment, after he had similarly
adjusted the gate entrance from the plaza. This effected, he breathed
easier, while he took his post at the hall door which he had already
secured. The villain's movements had been so noiseless that the
sleeping girl had not been disturbed.
The listener had not long to wait for indications that there were
others in the house besides himself, the jailer and his daughter.
Guy related in hurried tones to Jose that there was a robber in the
! vault and that he wanted his assistance to prevent him from dis-
poiling the jailer, and to see that no harm would befall Bonito or
Linda.
"Robber, senor ! There is nothing in the vault to steal. Besides
how do you judge? Tf it is by the noise it is only some poor restles.-?
spirit that
"Come, Jose ! No foolishness, or I will go without you. True,
he does not know. Jose, I've found the way into the vault. See!
Here's the stone uplifted come if you are my friend if you love
the memory of your mother if you love Father Tgnacio come follow
me and assist me to protect life and innocence."
"Saint Anthony help us!" said Jose, rising. "The stone is up
and the vault shows itself. Senor, you are not going down there !''
"Follow me, Jose," said Guy, descending with the light; "F
been down here before."
"He has seen a ghost!" said Jose, shuddering. "He has been
down among the spirits and they have upset his reason. Now he
wants to drag me down to meet the same fate. Senor ! Senor Ray-
mond ."'
"Come on, Jose, or I will believe you arc ; i coward."
GUY EAYMOND. :: |!>
"He said by the memory of my mother," said Jose, peering
after Guy. "I like Father Ignacio, too, but my mother ! ! !<
down
my mother ! He knew
my soft spot Senor Raymond. For the love of the memory of my
mother I will brave even a ghost, Senor ; I am coming."
Guy awaited Jose, who appeared after a short time bearing a
heavy bar which had been discarded from some former use around
the jail and had been appropriated by the present inmates of flic cdl
as a clothes rack, placed laterally, the ends resting in crevices of the
walls.
"You took a time to make up your mind," said Guy, in an impa-
tient undertone. "It took an age to get you fairly awake, and Him
another to explain to you about the vault and what I wanted, and it
seemed as if I never would get the candle lighted. The fellow has had
time to get not only out of the house, but out of the {own ale
"If it was a ghost it could be now out of the world, senor; ghosts
take no account of distance and I've been told
"No time for ghost stories, Senor Jose; the party 1 saw was flesh
and blood and far more dangerous than a thousand ghosts. Keep
silent and follow me if you are worthy the name of man."
The major domo eyed the chest and stool curiously as he passed
them and gave timid glances around the narrow passway as if he were
in dread of heholdng some supernatural demonstration, lie reluct-
antly obeyed the mandate to remain at the foot of the steps while his
commander went up cautiously to listen. No sounds having reached
him after some minutes, he signalled the other to follow, while he
brought the light forward to throw its rays into the hall.
The trap had been left open so that there was no trouble or delay
in gaining the floor above. Guy wailed for his companion to join
him, then posting him in the hall with instructions how to act in
case the party hunted should make his appearance, he drew his knife
and advanced upon Bonito's room. As he passed Linda's door he
thought he caught a slight sound like the click of a lock, but after
pausing a moment, he held the light well up and entered the old
jailer's sanctum. The stillness w r as deathlike. Guy's form was
shaded by the shadow of his left hand while the light was reflected
from the long keen blade of the knife held in the right. The room,
almost bare of furniture, was quickly taken in by the eager eye of
the youth, who saw only the burly form of his jailer lying beneath
the light covering of his bed. He still stood in the doorway, the
candle illuminating the room and dimly showing in the hall the ex-
.inf atlitude of Jose with liis bar held at a ready, his own position
completing a tableau that portended the imminence of a tragical
350 GUY RAYMOND.
event. Bonito, who had only been lying with closed eyes, ruminj
ing on the strange realism that sometimes characterized dreams, sud-
denly opened his eyes to see the light of Guy'* candle on the opposite
wall. With! an ejaculation as to the astounding persistency of his
candle to be lighted, he turned over towards- the door to take in the
alarming situation of a man blocking the exit from his room with an
uplifted candle and gleaming dagger.
Was it a dream?
Bonito rubbed his eyes the second time.
Despite the gravity of the situation, Guy could scarcely repress a
smile.
The shadow across Guy's features, even had Bonito's vision been
free from the confusing influences of a sudden awakening, would
have concealed his identity from his jailer, who supposed him safely
secured in his cell.
"Por Dios ! What a night is this ! My toe is twisted off or
mashed in a dream, and here is a ghost that stands like a statue,
burning up my candle. He has even taken my dagger, for it is gone
from under my head. Between my night's work and nightmare, T
will be dead on my feet for the next week. Senor ghost, what do you
want with Bonito?"
If Guy had had any of the superstitious in his composition he
would have begun to doubt his own sense of sight, and would have
attributed the fact of Ducio's visit to the vault to be supernatural.
The house was quiet, and with Linda's apartment unexplored, there
appeared to be no intruder upon the privacy of the household. His
well meant act of intervention between its inmates and harm was
about to be turned into a ghostly visitation, or worse. If Bonito
recognized him, what degree of pursuasion would it require to make
him believe that he, who so well knew of his treasure, had not come
to murder him in his sleep that he might secure it. The miser had
not forgiven him for the knowledge, and his discovery in an attitude
so apparently compromising would confirm his hostility despite the
truthful story of Ducio's visit to the vault. Guy reflected that he
would be but a few more hours in the carcel and it would not facilitate
his departure to heighten the antagonism of his jailer. All this
flashed through his quick mind with the rapidity of a lightning stroke
and he determined to make use of the other's superstition.
"You are the jailer?"
"Did I not say I am Bonito?"
* As a spirit I knew it ; but reply to my questions."
"Well, Senor Ghost, if you will it; I am the jailer."
GUY RAYMOND. 351
"You have a prisoner one Guy Raymond?"
"You are right. I nicknamed him el pajarro."
"He is your friend. He saved your life in the vault."
"Truly you know it but then you are a spirit."
"He did what you think is a greater service; he saved your gold."
"My gold ! Yes, you are a spirit and a spirit knows."
"If you doubt it I will tell you where you have now hid your
money. It is no longer in the chest, but with pick and mallet and
chisel you made a place in the left wall, the height of your breast,
and in this hole you put your bags, and when you had them all
in you took trowel and mortar and cement and closed the hole, point-
ing off the cracks with great skill and hiding the freshness of the
k."
"Oh, you know you know !"
"Listen until I finish. And then to hide your work you brought
up all the sand and rock that composed the debris of the excavation.
But, Bonito, you neglected to sweep the floor. It was an oversight."
"I was so tired, Mr. Ghost so tired."
An enemy has been in the vault. He who robbed you before and
loft, you for dead has discovered that your gold has been moved, but
it is yet safe. Take the advice of a spirit and send it to a safe place
of deposit, when you should make over a good amount to Linda your
daughter."
"Oh, senor spirit, I could not trust it to human hands. I will
move it again, and when I am dead Linda shall know and
"It is but advice; do with the money as you like, for it is the
dross of earth. Your soul is everything. Bonito you are a way-
ward man. It has been ten years since you went to confession."
"You are a spirit; it was ten last Easter. Oh, Senor Ghost, if you
will tell me a safe place for my doubloons I will go to my duties
often."
"I cannot. Money is of earth and spirits would go out of their
mission if they should pander to human greed for riches. Tlioy deal
only with the soul, with character and mind. Money is of the flesh,
and is condemned by the saintly who love God."
"But the church manages to get its share and
"Silence! Criticize not the church, or the loss of both your
doubloons and soul will leave you the sport of men and devils."
"I am dumb, Senor Spirit ; but I would ask you a question about
my prisoner."
"You shall be answered."
r ill Senor Raymond betray my secret?"
352 GUY RAYMOND.
"It is safe with him as with me."
"He would not rob me ?"
"You might as well suspect me of intending to rob you."
"Es un buen pajarro."
"You should show him your gratitude."
"I could not spare a doubloon, seeing I was robbed."
"He despises your money. His honor weighs a thousand
more than all your hoarded gold. Give him his liberty."
"I would be shot."
"Allow him to break jail."
"I cannot."
"I will make it easy for you."
"How?"
"Have your guard doubled and get permission to be absent this
Sunday night from ten until two. If he escapes while you are away
there is no law, or precedent for your accountability. I tell you as an
immortal spirit that you will never suffer for it."
"Then I will do it; but, senor spirit, would it not be right I
should be paid something if but a few pesos for such a
"Miserable mortal ! Would you ask pesos from your savior who
does not own centados where you have bright doubloons. I know the
contents of each of your strong bags, which are fairly bursting with
their load of coin for shame, Bonito !"
"I am ashamed, Senor Spirit, but it would not hurt any one coi
demned to die to pay a few reals at least for liberty."
"He is generous, this young American, and will doubtless hel]
you hereafter."
"He shall have the chance ; but it will be no use."
"Then you promise."
"I promise."
"Then I give you my blessing, frail mortal, and in leaving 1
charge you to remain in your room here until the time for rising.
and to never tell to mortal of my visit. Upon these conditions will
I guard your treasure and warn you should I ever know that you wil
be in danger of loss."
"Good spirit, Bonito will obey."
"Good-night and remember."
"Good-night, good ghost."
Guy backed out of the door with a slow and ghostly stop 11111
got beyond the sight of the victimized jnilcr. lie rejoined Jose, who
was rather impatiently awaiting his return or (lie showing up of some
object upon which to test the efficiency of his weapon. The adventure
GUY RAYMOND. ,353
had liar] results so different from the anticipated oiiicoinn thai fliiv
was at a loss to know what to do. He had certainly seen the fellow
in the vault, hut lie had left no traces In-hind, and there was nothing
to indicate that he had made his exif from ilie house. Ills practical
mind conceived the necessity, under the circumstances, of keeping a
watch until morning in order to prevent any harm coming to Linda
or her father from the would he rohher who, defeated in the discovery
of the gold, might resort to force to corn-pel a disclosure from tin 1
household. TTe had no use for the superstitious Jose and determined
to see him back to the cell before lie took a position to watch. He
accordingly carried out the first part of this intention with difficulty,
putting off replies to a score of questions from Jose until a more
timely season for explanations.
("Juy, a Her cautioning the other to remain quietly in the cell until
his return, went hack to the hall and toold a reclining position on
the lounge.
When Dncio entered Linda's garden to arrange the gate for a
rapid exit in retreat, he did not notice a crouching figure in the
corner he had so lately occupied when Ruiz was passing out wilh the
fair owner. The figure arose into plain view the moment he re-
entered the room and, creeping close to the door, bent forward as if
peeping through the crack.
It had the slight form of a youth, and as he leaned over the droop-
ing ends of a sash, touched the tops of the plants which covered
the bed ending at the door.
"The miscreant! What can be his business here at this time of
night? This simpering innocent has strange company at stranger
hours. We'll see if their spooning is not made notorious, even if il
costs the fair name of a Pe la Torre/'
These muttered words greeted no ear, but they came from deter-
mined lips, and voiced the emotions of a fiercely beating heart. Ducio
had been watched and the wafcher had noted his disappearance
over the wall of the garden. Ruiz had gone before the appearance
on the secne of this youth, who had been impatiently Availing for
Ducio to show himself. The hitter's egress to fix the gate and sub-
sequent return was not understood and only served to irritale the
watcher.
Due.io at last felt satisfied that whoever had been talking in the
hall had retired out of hearing, but this gave him no confidence
in the safetv to himself of a further search in the vault. Who the
parties could he was to him a mystery. This alone deterred him.
He had little fear where? things were plain of solution, but he
354 GUY RAYMOND.
it cast
dreaded the mysterious enough to avoid risking his life where it
its shadow of doubt. He felt inclined to knife Bonito or to commit
some diabolical act to balance the disappointment. He had brought
chloroform with him to administer to the jailer. He cursed himself
for not having used it instead of wrenching his great toe. The
miser's monologue had saved him from assault. He turned towards
the bed where Linda reposed in healthful sleep.
An idea struck him.
"Why not chloroform her?"
A sinister expression possessed his face for a moment. He dre
the phial] from his pocket and held it to the light. He tried the
door leading to the hall. It was fastened securely. He took the phial
again from the little stand where he had placed it, and as he did so,
he glanced in the mirror. He could not help noting his own hard
look that answered back "You are a demon." He was about to look
away when an exclamation partly escaped him. A strangely familiar
face was stamped upon the mirror and seemed to glare at him from
fiery eyes. Tt was a face which had haunted his mental vision for the
last few days, and the sight transfixed him for an instant. Tt ap-
peared to be framed in the opening of the garden door, and he turned
nervously to confront it. But there was nothing at the door to con-
firm the reality of the apparition. Consulting the mirror again, the
face was gone. "It had Josefa's eyes and expression," h.e thought.
He went to the door and closed it tighter.
Linda turned in her bed and uttered a sigh, followed by a few
words that were not intelligible. The villain crouched. But it wa,=
evident that Linda slept a deep, dreamy sleep, all unconscious of .the
polluting presence. The phial was again produced and a, quantity
was dropped upon a hand kerchief taken from the dressing table
With a catlike movement the fiend approached the couch and hel
the saturated cloth forward preparatory to its application. T
sleeper moved slightly and talked again:
"Oh ! Manuel, save him
The drug was applied, the nostrils inhaled the subtle narcotic nn<
the girl was soon past the power of rousing to her defense. The
Creole sat upon the side of the bed. and. taking a hand, drew the
poised arm from above her head. Tn her dreams she pressed tho. vil
Iain's palm and said in quite intolligiblo words:
"Beatrice loves him."
Ducio leaned forward and pressed a passionate kiss upon the ui
conscious brow, unconscious himself of Hie presence of a third parly
to the scene. When he grasped Linda's band Iho door leading to the
le.
:
ml
he
the
:
GUY RAYMOND. . 355
garden had moved noiselessly upon its hinges and first the head of the
listener, whose face had been reflected from the mirror, made its ap-
pearance, then followed the form of the youth. With easy tread he
slowly approached the unsuspecting Ducio, and, seizing him by the
collar before he had half raised from the unholy kiss, he hissed be-
tween his compressed teeth :
"What does this mean, Mr. Ducio Halfen?"
If a thunder bolt had struck him, Ducio could not have been more
amazed than he was at the voice which uttered the words, and he
was puzzled on turning to find they had come from a youth of slender
build, who would be but a pigmy in his grasp.
"Unhand me, simpleton !" cried Ducio, drawing the dagger he had
taken from beneath the jailer's pillow. "What do you mean by your
interference here?"
"Use your weapon, coward, if you dare!" cried the intruder, draw-
ing a glittering blade. "An explanation you shall make."
"I would prefer to know your authority to ask an explanation,"
he replied.
"This dress is to conceal me from the recognition of the street,
not from your's, Mr. Halfen. If Josefa de la Torre has no right to
ask, then you are indeed a perjurer."
"Josefa! In this dress? I might ask how came you here? It is
not a seemly hour for ladies to be out, even if disguised as men."
"Nevertheless, sir, I am here and will have an explanation."
"Josefa, put away the knife. An explanation will take too long.
Lei: us defer it. You have spoiled all by this intrusion. A success-
ful ending of this venture would have transferred a fortune from
miserly hands to yours and mine, who know how to use it but now
"From your actions, when. I chanced to come upon you, I in-
terrupted a villainous plot against this girl in place of a plan to secure
a fortune. What, sir, have you done here? What ails this woman?"
"A little chloroform a matter of a few moments unconscious-
ness."
"During which you would have perpetrated a crime."
"The crime of appropriating Bonito's doubloons."
"If not a worse. The winning of a mine of gold would not excuse
the deviltry which I believe you would have perpetrated but for my
interference, as you call it."
During this passage at arms between the strange pair, their voices
had reached a key in sympathy with the excitement of the rencounter.
Ducio was about to reply to Josefa's last insinuating charge when
an evident attempt to force the door from the hall changed the coin-
356 Guv RAYMOND.
loment,
plexion of the dramatic scene. Pucio was electrified for the momei
but with a characteristically quick decision, he seized Josefa by the
arm and, pushing her towards the garden entrance, he said in stroi
undertones :
"We must never be caught here. Fly, Josefa! I will keep u[
with you until you get safely home. I did not count on this inter-
ruption/'
"It is Bonito who overheard our voices," suggested Josefa, as she
hastened out.
"Not alone, however, for I heard voices sometime before I ad-
ministered the chloroform."
The two were soon far on their way across the plaza, going in the
direction of Josefa's home.
The first intimation that Guy had that someone was astir in
Linda's apartment was a noise so slight that he was much in doubt
of the correctness of his hearing. A moment later he noted the move-
ment of the faint line of light that struggled out from under the door.
He continued on the alert for further evidences of the correctness
of his first suspicion. The high words which followed Josefa's en-
trance, being confirmatory in the last degree, he tried the door, but
finding it fastened, looked around for something wherewith to force
it. Jose's bar, which had been loft behind bv that worthy, was the
first thing he noticed. With this Guy hoped to force the lock. His
vigorous strokes finally caused the fastenings to yield, but not until
the game had fled. With one glance about him as he entered, IIP
passed quickly into the garden through the already open door and
found the way into the plaza unguarded by any fastening. Without,
the darkness was made blacker by his sudden transition from the
lighted room. No sounds could be heard. Returning 1 to the apart-
ment he had just quitted, he diffidently approached the bed where
Linda lay, to discover if anything had befallen her. She was breathing
heavily. No reply came to his repented calls. He finally became
sensible of the presence of the narcotic, whose fumes pervaded the
air of the apartment. - This satisfied him of Linda's condition.
Taking the light from the dresser he held it closely to the face of the
sleeper. She moved slightly and be called her name. He took her
hand, which was resting limp beside her. The contact seemed to in
fluence the recognition of a presence, for she murmured:
"Manuel, save him; save Senor Raymond."
Guy, fully comprehending her words, was afTected. Satisfl
after witnessing the change in her respiral inn and an increasing rev
lessness fhat no seriniK ennsequence.s would follow the inhalation
GUY RAYMOND. 351
the drug, he resolved to close the room securely and to stand natch
until the return of day. The superstitious jailer kept his bed in obe-
dience to the injunction of his spiritual visitor, and the 'noniing
was well broken before he rose from his slumbers with a (-.'mi'iK-ed
recollection of the night's experience. Indeed, he lay awake fo** manv
minutes in the endeavor to disengage the tangled threads of memory ;
to distinguish between fact and fancy; to separate what he conceived
had actually transpired from the mass of incoherence that could ciily
have been compiled in the realms of dreamland.
So Guy was not troubled by any vigilance of his jailer, and
when the first gray of morning showed itself he descended to the
vault, carefully closing the trap behind him, and made his way
back to his cell and to Jose. The latter was asleep. He threw
himself upon his pallet and sought rest in the repose which an
all night watching rendered necessary. When 1m again awoke it was
to find Jose shaking him.
"Senor, it in time to get up; and here you are slopping like a
log. Besides, it is time for breakfast, and that lazy jailor should havo
come, before this, to bring it."
"He has probably not recovered from his last night's scare," said
Guy, more to himself than to the other.
"Do you know, scnor, that I am getting tired of this staying in
jail for another."
"Well, Jose, a little more patience'; and I think, after we get
the contents of Candelario's basket stowed away, you may go out
and return to your duties with Father Ignacio."
"And who will play Ruiz?"
"I will attend to that."
"There is ihe shuffling old fellow now." said Jose, as he heard
the jailer's voice and stop.
The holt, shot back in the lock and Bonito, looking rather the
worse for his night's work, handed in the morning meal. Jose of
course, had promptly retired to the far corner.
"Is ho asleep .yet?" asked Bonito, nodding over to where Jose had
retreated.
Guy simply shrugged his shoulder in reply.
"How T envy his long naps!" continued the jailer, with a yawn.
"Ami go, YOU look terribly. One would judge from appearances
that you had not slept for a week."
"Senor, T had frightful dreams in the night, I had a dream
about you Id- mo soo was it a droam or a vision or it was a
about you, senor."
358 GUY RAYMOND.
"A dream, Bonito?"
"A something,, senor."
"A waking dream, perhaps."
"Senor, did you ever see a ghost a spirit?" ||J
"They confine their visits to Christians, Bonito, and to the supc
stitious who believe in them."
"I see; I see only Christians good or bad Christians. Ghosts
are not particular so they be Christians."
"They are myths, Bonito. Ghosts have no existence, having no
substance they cannot be seen."
"Oh, senor! You are ignorant to say so. Bonito has eyes and
if eyes can see Bonito's eyes have seen a ghost, and heard a ghost."
"An illusion. You dreamed."
"Dreamed ! It told me my thoughts my secrets my my it
knew what no mortal but Bonito could know."
"You but dreamed, amigo. If you were awake, some one pos-
sessed of your secrets played the ghost."
"The ghost was a friend to you," said Bonito, under his breath,
remembering his promise to his supernatural visitor. "Never tell it,
senor," he continued in a low tone, "but I am sure your friend, the
ghost, would not mind my telling you that much. It charged me
to silence; but, senor, you must know that you are not to be shot,
that Bonito must be out of the way this night that you may escape
by no fault of his. It must be the will of heaven, senor, if escape
you do, for how you will get out of this cell with or without force,
and a double guard in the court, is a puzzle Bonito can't make out.
You are lucky to have a ghost doing so much for you, seeing you
are not a Christian, with no faith in its sort, and no claims on its
assistance. Here is Ruiz, the sleeper, whose fate is sealed, was
never mentioned and is left to his doom, although he is a good
Christian. Lucky pajarro ! But it puzzles me to know how you are
to escape through no assistance of mine, except by my absence. If
my absence will do it, senor, even that is worth much to one whose
life will be saved by it. Yet I ask not for pay such a thing as pay
should be left to the one who knows the value of his life. You have
a sister, senor a young thing who needs you. She has no father,
no mother, none save you to care for her. If she had a fortune
she would lay it down at the feet of one who would save your life.
You would do nearly so much to keep alive her protector. But
Bonito asks nothing, although he has been robbed. You, senor, al-
though you believe not in ghosts, and have no faith in the religion
of the saints, have a well-balanced head and know your duty. The
GUY RAYMOND.
uty which you have said was your religion will decide your action
it will decide your action, senor."
Bonito said this in the low tone of confidence; and as he con-
cluded, a deep sigh escaped him and his flabby cheek fell upon his
left palm,, as he assumed a disconsolate pose for his auditor's edifi-
cation.
"Bonito,, you combine the arts of special pleading and acting/'
said Guy, amused.
"I would not take a real, senor, unless you give it with a good
will/' replied the other, not comprehending Guy's remark.
"Nor a peso ?"
"No; nor a doubloon."
"Virtuous Bonito! Have no further care, for I shall see that
you are well rewarded for carrying out the commands of my friend,
the ghost."
"Que buen pajarro!"
"Say, Bonito, how fares Linda this morning?"
"The child looks bad, senor. She passed a miserable night, and
shows it by her drawn face and red eyes."
"Did she, also, see the ghost?"
"Not she; it would have frightened her out of her wits; but her
bad feeling comes of the ghost being in the house. There she is
calling me. I promised to go back in a minute, and here T have
Ix'on babbling and keeping you from your breakfast."
When Bonito had retired, Guy opened his basket and called Jose
to join him. In the usual place he found a note from Euiz. This,
after reading carefully, he destroyed, and turned to Jose, with the
remark:
"Well, Jose, you are to go to Father Ignacio this morning."
"And you?"
"I will remain here a few hours longer."
"T hate to leave you alone, senor."
"You can better serve me outside."
"Then I will go. Does Bonito know?"
"Bonito is in the dark, but he will be managed. Brush up a
little and be ready to leave here in thirty minutes."
Jose was ready to depart when the appointed time had arrived,
and escorted by Guy ho made his exit through the vault. The hall
was clear, and a rap at Linda's door caused her to open it and
admit him. Greeting him with a smile, half sad, and as if in
( x[M Nation of his coming and destination, she indicated the way
oui through thn garden into the plaza.
360 GUY RAYMOND.
CHAPTER L.
Vespers were over at San Fernando. A slim congregation had
dispersed, leaving a few straggling worshippers, who quitted at inter-
vals the grand front portal, singly or by twos and threes. The
popular priest was with the last to leave. At the door he joined
two female figures, from under whose rebosas peered two well-known
faces. In company they turned towards the priestly residence.
"How fares the young prisoner, Linda ?' asked Father Ignacio.
"My father says he is in good spirits," she replied.
"In spite of the fact that his execution is tho day after tomorrow?"
"That is, if the day aftor tomorrow will find him a prisoner/'
said Beatrice, who was the third party of the group.
"Ah! Then he has hopes of a pardon."
"Perhaps or something that will equally prove a preventive."
"Guard your secret, my child, if one you have."
"My secret?"
"I've seen Miguel."
"The simpleton! What could he have told?"
"Nothing. Yes, a hint. Miguel is conscientious, and if I know
or suspect anything from what ho hinted, it has my blessing. 7 '
"Thanks, good Father."
"From me the same," said Linda. "Did Manuel see you toda;
"He saw me just before I said mass this morning."
"He told you?"
"Yes ; the plan is bold. It may succeed, but it is a most perilous
undertaking. T will have to do penance for engaging, even by con-
sent, in this plot against the authorities. But, my dear children. T
have a heart. To my mind it would be murder to take tho lifo of
this young American on the insufficient evidence against him, with-
out a shadow of opportunity to defend himself. To me he hns
proved himself to bo the soul of honor, and, talented beyond his
years, it would be a wanton crime to destroy a life so full of brilliant
promise. Besides, ho has not yet experienced tho touch of faith.
The grand truths of our holy religion have not yet dawned
his exquisite intelligence. T have prayed for it with all tho ai
of which I am master, for T believe his innate purity, allied t<
failh in revealed religion, would make him a wearer of HIP cass
"He would make a noble priest," thought Linda, with a In
suppressed sigh.
Guy RAYMOND. 361
"As if a man of honor and intellect could not believe in religious
dogma without taking order*/' thought Beatrice, with a slight flush.
that might have meant indignation.
"But the world is full of scholars who accept the religions of
our civilization, yet they have no inclination to take orders. Many
cf these are doubtless pure men and honorable," said Beatrice, in
unconscious deprecation of Father Ignacio's idea as applied to the
subject of her thoughts.
"Pardon" me, Beatrice. Child, let us free him first from the
impending 'danger, before \ve differ as to his career. Whatever his
calling may be, Guy Raymond will fill it honorably and well. What
says Linda? Shall wo make a padre out of Senor Raymond ?"
"As God wills it. Father. He would make a good priest, but he
i? too just a little too handsome."
"You are very well content with my sacred calling which, in
view of your opinion, is a thrust at my personal appearance," said
the priest 'good humoredly.
"But you wore a priest before we saw you, and of course Linda
and myself have to yield to what we had no opportunity to protest
against."
"Well, God bless you, my children; I must leave you here. May
r.ll our hopes be realized."
So saying the good father left them, to enter his house, while
the girls soon after separated to go to their respective homes.
The parting between the two girl friends was to be of short
durition, for before the dew had dampened the plants in Linda's
garden. Bent-rice had raised the latch of its gate and passed over
the neat walk to the former's door, which was open in expectancy
of her coming". Bonito, who had fussed around the whole afternoon
in a state of perturbation which precluded the indulgence of his
customary siesta, hailed the approach of evening with satisfaction;
not that it would end the nervousness entailed by a combination of
matters which pressed upon his susceptibility, but that it hastened
the climax of a portion of the events whose consummation preyed
upon his mind. He dreaded the responsibility for an escape made
by one of his prisoners. His grasping nature had weighed, since
early morning, the size of the remuneration to be expected from
Guy, who had hinted at a reward for the bare absence of four hours
from his post of duty. He had not removed the remaining traces
of the debris in the vault, as Sunday had succeeded his night work.
His superstition came to his relief in the remembrance that the
i had directed his passive connivance in the escape of the Amer-
362 GUY RAYMOND.
lean. It was none of his affair if the wall should prove too thick
or the bolts too strong and the doubled guard too wary to permit
the ghostly programme to succeed. True, he thought, ghosts cared
little for fastenings, but how could his mere absence so facilitate
matters? If el pajarro should fail and be executed, the secret of
the chest would again be only his if he should escape well que
importa, the doubloons were gone no one knew where -except the
ghost and then he would get some reward for which he had not
asked, however, as his supernatural visitor had forbidden him. He
would clean up the vault on the morrow and the most prying could
pass through it without a suspicion of a secret treasure, and then,
the ghost had guaranteed its safety.
Bonito had early notified the proper authority that he would be
temporarily absent in the night, and was promised the double guard,
with a special commendation for his vigilance. He had some business
with the notary and concluded that he would make that a pretext
for a visit to that functionary, at or a little before he hour he had
promised to be absent. He accordingly notified Linda, at the time
decided upon, and took his way northwards along the east side of
the plaza. When the jailer had been fairly gone, the outer gate
was fastened with its inside latch by his daughter, who then attached
to it a cord with a small stone tied on the other end. The latter
she threw over the wall, just above, so that it depended from the
outer edge. This done, she, with Beatrice, who was an anxious
witness to her act, entered her room and closed the door.
"Miguel ! Come forth/' said Beatrice.
In response, the giant mozo of the Navarro's issued from the
identical place where Ducio had concealed himself on the night
before. He having arrived before her father's departure, Linda had
placed him in concealment. The huge frame seemed to expand more
and more as he rose from his constrained position, and finally took
a respectful stand near his mistress.
"Linda, shall we go now or wait?"
"There is little use of waiting. No one is here to interrupt us,
and the time will seem too short to you, who must have much to
say to him."
Beatrice blushed.
"I I will not know what to say. His deliverance here is easy-
but the peril of the passage without the lines? This troubles me.
Eecapture means death instant death, and then the chances of an
armed encounter. Have you his rifle?"
"Here," said the other, producing the trusty weapon of Guy's
GUY RAYMOND. 363
Indian experience, "and lien? his pistols, all dean and in good order.
The monte pio had it done for me."
"The monte pio I" said Beatrice meaningly.
But Linda shook her head.
"Come then, Linda, lead the \vay. Come, Miguel! 7 '
They gained the hall.
The giant was looked to with appealing eyes. He regarded the
lounge for a moment, then pointed to it.
"The opening must be under that," he said.
"Do your duty," commanded Beatrice. "Miguel, it is all with
you now."
The mozo examined the lounge curiously. He pulled away at ii,
but the resistance proved it to be stationary. His whole strength
was put in requisition. The effect was a cracking noise, then a
giving away of the end containing the trapdoor, disclosing the first
step, without affording space for the passage of a body. Another
effort of the muscular arms and Bonito's contrivance was a wreck.
The huge frame of the mozo nearly filled the space as he began to
descend to the vault.
"Are you going, Linda?" asked Beatrice.
"No. I will wait here. You go, Beatrice; go with Miguel. To
you belongs the credit of this deliverance."
"Now that the moment has come, I am losing the nerve which
has sustained me. If there was not still a doubt, still a fear that
this effort may miscarry I should stop here from the very lack of
force to proceed. This doubt this fear will sustain me until
until "
Linda kissed her.
Miguel reminded them that a candle was needed. This Linda
sup filied, and again embracing her friend, she saw them disappear
into the vault.
A shudder crept over Beatrice as she viewed the rough interior
of the subterranean chamber, but conscious of the presence of her
powerful servant and the sacredness of her mission, she crowded
down the emotions natural to delicate and refined womanhood.
Miguel was not long in reaching the ascent to the cell. This he
pointed out to Beatrice and told her that the stone covering to the
trap must be lifted, and inquired her pleasure. She waved him to
proceed.
He drew-forth from his side a heavy blade, and going within reach
of the stone to be removed, he held up the light and introduced the
364 GUY EAYMOND.
point of the knife around its edges. The experiment ove'r he coolly
looked down and remarked:
."The stone is loose. Shall I lift it?"
"Lift it," was the reply.
The sinewy frame of the giant was hent double, and with back
placed against the ponderous flag, he made one effort and the impedi-
ment was shoved to one side. He turned quickly to grasp its edge
and the next moment the hole was clear.
"Amigos! Senor Amigos!" said Miguel, as his big body rose
through the opening into the cell.
"Stand back, amigos I'll test your friendship. Who are you,
and what do you want ?" said Guy, who had been lying down reading,
and viewed with no little surprise the lifting of the stone and the
intrusion of the strange head. His first act was to seize the stool
and hold it menacingly aloft, while he felt for his dagger. These
demonstrations called forth the protestations of friendly intent from
the lips of Miguel.
To Guy's inquiry the mozo demonstrated considerable tact by
replying :
"The* Senorita Beatrice Navarro is here and will answer your
worship, if you will let me get off the steps."
"The Senorita Navarro I" exclaimed Guy, moving forward and
peering down the steps. He could not be deceived; there, with
candle held aloft, anxiety depicted in her face, was the veritable,
form and features of her whose influence had swayed him like a
second nature. As he looked the picture became graven upon his
heart. The light and shadow playing upon her features, expressive
of changeful emotions lent a singular charm to her beaut} 7 . The
upturned look, the pallid color induced by the venture and enhanced
by the damp and chill of the vault, the contour of the face framed
by the dark rebosa, suggested a Madonna.
With a bound he was in the vault.
"Senorita ! This is no place for you. Even now you look unwell/'
"Senor, I came for a purpose which must be accomplished. Tues-
day you are condemned to to die. Tonight you must escape. I
knew of this secret passage my mozo knew how to reach your cell
I claimed his services and we are here."
"This for me ! Oh ! Beatrice !"
"For you you who rescued me from a terrible death. To can
that debt I am here. You must hasten from this foul place,
first step. Tt will take some hours to decide, if the plan made
your friends will end in failure or success."
GUY RAYMOND. :;;:.
"I knew of a plan to be carried out tonight, but there was no
hint of your connection with it."
"That was my secret; shared alone by my faithful Miguel."
"Senorita ! I
"You called me Beatrice. Oh! Guy, what is the cloud between
us ?"
"Have I raised it Beatrice?"
"You did not answer my letter."
"I never received one."
"Then have I misjudged you but this is no fit place for explana-
tions. Let us go to Linda's room. Her father is out of the way
and time is flying. There remains- much to be done in a plan of
which I must confess my ignorance."
Guy took a farewell look at his surroundings and mentally won-
dered what would finally become of the miser's wealth.
Linda was waiting jn the hall for the liberating party with their
charge. She embraced and congratulated Beatrice on her success,
and turning to greet Guy, the latter imprinted a brotherly kiss upon
her forehead. He caught Beatrice's look as he raised from its be-
stowal, and before she was well aware of his intention he stooped
and kissed her lips.
"That was right-," said Linda, "but it should have been given
in the vault."
"I wished to acknowledge my gratitude to both at the same time/'
said Guy.
"Now," he continued, "if you will allow me, I wish to rearrange
the stone in the cell so that no blame may attach to my good jailer."
"Let Miguel do that. Miguel, go replace the stone, and, as far
as you can, repair the damage to the lounge."
Miguel at once hastened to obey the orders of his mistress.
In Linda's room a council was held. The hour was found to be
near ten o'clock when the relief would be around and supply a double
guard in the court of the carrel.
"Do you know anything of Manuel Eui//s mo\ements tonight?"
asked Beatrice.
"He was to be here at ten, or thereabouts, to see if I would be
in readiness to join him then, or at some hour, which he was to
name," said Guy.
"I am expecting him every minute," said Linda.
"How would you have contrived to meel him if we had not
found you a way out of the cell?"
Beatrice.'- (jin-slimi was one \\hirh Guy feared she would ask.
"24
366 GUY KAYMOND.
Since she had asked it, he answered evasively, for he did not wish
her to become aware of his previous knowledge of the secret passage,
especially of his purpose to use it that night, as an exit through
which to effect a meeting with Euiz. To so inform her would sweep
away the credit she enjoyed as his deliverer, and deprive her of the
sole stimulant of the adventure.
So he replied :
"But for the vault I would have been sorely puzzled, and should
have been compelled to rely upon the ingenuity of Ruiz to accom-
plish what you have so easily done through the knowledge of your
faithful mozo."
If Linda had a thorn in her heart, she concealed it under a
calm exterior. Her devotion to Guy was the outgrowth of her con-
tact with a personality strange to her experience with men of her
race. His gentleness, the purity which every act reflected, won her
simple admiration, and if she loved him as she would a lover, her
peculiar disposition made it possible for her to love him as a friend.
She was as much interested in Beatrice as a woman, as she was in
Guy as a man. As a child of nature she was a perfect type; as the
issue of Bonito, a wonderful product. Under pretense of attention
to affairs in and out of her room, she left Guy and Beatrice to
mutual explanations and interchange of sentiment on the eve of a
probable separation. The pair were engrossed with each other, when
the door was unceremoniously opened and Ruiz entered in his dis-
guise.
"No time for ceremony so I came right in. Ha! Mr. Guy
Raymond, happy to see you and so pleasantly engaged."
"Ruiz ! As I live. Your own mother would foreswear you."
"Good evening, Linda!"
"You found the string on the gat-e?"
"Or I would have had to jump the wall. You are out of the
cell, I see," he said to Guy. "Bonito came to terms?"
Bonito? No, he was stubborn to the last. The jailer is off duty
for a time. The Senorita Navarro pointed out an exit through a
secret passage from the cell."
"A secret passage? But I can't stay for explanations, as time
is pressing. Senor, a word with you in the hall."
Ruiz drew Guy aside, just without the hall door, and disclosed
to him some new details of the plan to deceive the authorities. While
so engaged a rap was given at the garden door and Linda, who
answered the call, was surprised to admit the priest of San Fernando.
"You are surprised to see me here but where is your liberated
GUY RAYMOND. 367
prisoner?" he asked, looking towards Beatrice.
"Here he is," replied Guy, entering- w jti, R u j z . "Father, T am
proud of this honor."
"You did not suppose I was going to let you escape, or run the
risk of your life in attempting to do so, without an adios."
"Not he," said Ruiz. "Remember, if we are all caught in this
affair, that Father Ignacio is chief conspirator."
"You would be thoughtless to criminate me, for as an innocent
I would have influence in your behalf."
"No mercy can be expected from tyrants. But there is no time
for debate. I must be off to meet bold men and true. The fnH is,
I am late now, and will have to hurry."
As he said this, Ruiz waved an adios and hastened out to the
plaza and darkness.
"A bold fellow, is Ruiz," said the priest, as he seated himself
near Guy for a chat.
"Bold and true. I tried to induce him to let me go with him,
but it seems that I am not to be an actor in the first part of the
programme."
u
CHAPTER LI.
Ruiz gained the plaza from the garden, he came in contact
with someone moving in the opposite direction, his left arm striking
the other's right. With an apologetic ejaculation, he moved briskly
on to meet his appointment with his confederates.
"That fellow has been there again tonight ! It was his voice cer-
tainly. There must be somthing some plot; perhaps the release of
that fellow Raymond. The fellow's actions have been strange and
suspicious, and he has certainly dogged me. The gate he has left
ajar, possibly with a view of returning at once. I will just take
a peep in there and may learn something that will confirm my already
slrong position with the authorities. The dead body of the notary
has not yet been discovered. Why not lay the deed on this fellmv
with the long beard. I can swear that I saw him prowling near the
dciul man's house last night. Well, here goes to see what I can see."
With these last words, half thought, half said, Ducio crept into
the garden and close to the window nearest his former place of con-
cealment. Through a small aperture he was able to take in a view
of a large portion of the apartment. The sound of voices were
plainly distinct, enabling him to catch here and there a sentence.
To his astonishment he saw Guy, the condemned prisoner, sitting
368 GUY RAYMOND.
quite at ease by the side of the beauty of Bexar, by Beatrice Navarre.
Linda, apparently no worse from her experience of the night before,
was talking to the priest of San Fernando. Ducio understood at once
that the prisoner was under no surveillance; that no restraint was
present to prevent his further progress from the vicinity of his cell.
Navarro pere was marked by the authorities as a rebel, and here was
his daughter giving aid and comfort to a condemned spy, and doubt-
less intriguing for his escape from the city. But the priest was
considered loyal, as was also the jailer. Ducio was resolving to make
a report of this scene to the authorities, when his attention was
riveted by the plainly heard words of the parties whom he was
watching.
"There is a double guard in the court. My father had business
in town and thought it best to double the sentinels until his return."
"It seems he did not count on Senor Raymond's power of self
transmutation," said Father Ignacio, laughing.
"You have not heard of my playing ghost ?"
"No! I had not heard. I merely conjectured that a change of
substance had been necessary to enable you to pass the bolts and bars
of prison."
"I wondered that Manuel was not more inquisitive about the man-
ner of your getting out of the cell," said Beatrice.
"Ruiz had no time for talking or for explanations, as he had to
meet our friends from the outside."
"The one thing I do not like about this plan of Ruiz," said Father
Ignacio, "is the introduction of a rebel force to take, a part. Senor
Raymond's escape could have been insured by secretly passing the
lines under escort of a guide, and as for a guide, none in Bexar co
have been secured more expert in the business than Ruiz himself."
The words of the priest threw new light on the affair, and Du
determined that he had sufficient clues to implicate the whole party.
The individual who had haunted his steps was undoubtedly the bogus
toreador, who, apprehended as Ruiz, was presumably in prison.
Prompt action on the part of the authaorities would solve the mystery
and explode any alleged powers of transmutation in possession of the
prisoners. Filled with this intention, Ducio hastened from the place.
The hour was eleven when Karnes and Ruiz grasped hands, after
the bow of the boat had grated upon the pebbly margin of the rivSr.
Nathan sat upon her bow as the boat's stern swung around with the
stream, and with his feet planted upon the bank, he held her firmly
in position. The others were silent in their places, partly from the
injunction of the commander, partly from a desire to catch some-
the
=
GUY RAYMOND. 369
thing that would pass between the conferees, whose councils were to
detain the expedition for a time.
"Well?" was Karnes laconic inquiry.
"Everything is ready, so far as it is possible to regulate the position
of things. A thorough acquaintance with the place and what we are
likely to encounter has been looked after. There are risks which no
one can anticipate, and whatever obstacles may arise must be met by
determination and dash."
"What about the prisoner Raymond ?"
"He awaits us free of his cell. I refused to let him accompany
us to headquarters, as he will be of more service with our reserve
should we need the assistance. Too large a show of force would defeat
our aims."
"In your hands, then, Senor Ruiz, must remain the direction of
this expedition. We will furnish the pluck, and if mortal courage
will carry us through, you may count on suce<> ."
"Then we'll to business/' said Ruiz, giving a low whistle. .
In response a tall form came out of the darkness and placed a
bundle which lie carried on the ground before them.
"How many, Jose?"
"Seven, senor."
"Counting the sergeants?"
"Si, senor; counting the sergeants."
"But yours? You should have one also."
"I have mine on, senor."
"That will do ; it is so dark I could not see the change."
"What are these the uniforms?" inquired K.-irnes.
"Yes," replied Ruiz, "and \ve had work to get enough. Have tin-
men put them on."
"Come, boys, tumble out," commanded Karnes. "size up this
toggery and make your toilets without delay."
The men, with more noise than was agreeable to the cautious
Karnes, jumped speedily out of the boat and surrounded the pile of
Mexican uniforms which Ruiz had procured for their dis^ujpe. The
next few minutes were consumed in sizing up ihe candidates for
investiture.
'What'll we do with our duds?" asked Hamilton.
"There's only blouses and caps," said Karnes. "You can put them
on over your eoats."
"Which ihe blouses or the caps?"
"The blouses, you fool."
id our hats ?"
370 GUY KAYMOND.
"Leave 'em in the boat."
"This blouse will never hide my frock tail," said Hamilton.
"Cut off the tail, then," said Perry.
"That's what," said Nathan, "for the showin' of your tail mo
cost you yer head."
"Bravo, Nathan ! Your coat tail will never give you away."
"I reckon not," said Karnes, "for it is a question if Nathe e
owned a coat."
"They're useless things, Karnes. The old man once't made me
wear one to meetin', but it cut me under the arms and I gin it to my
little brother. They're the peskiest things to cut a feller under the
arms. Now, I don't rnind one of these blouses, altho' this un falls
terrible short."
"Come, men, be readv. Ruiz, who is this man? Does he go with
us?"
"This is Jose," said Ruiz, in an undertone, "the major domo of the
priest. He will be with us, but now I have other work for him. He
will return to give notice to others interested in our plot, and an-
nounce your coming and our approach down the river. You have
the muskets with bayonets?"
"Yes; we supplied ourselves from the lot captured at the powder
house."
"All right, then, we had better be off."
By direction of their commander the men resumed their posi-
tions in the boat, making a place for Ruiz by the side of the former.
The command to push off was given. The little vessel floated free;
the oars dipped; the paddle righted its course and it shot away into
the darkness ahead. By the road which Jose had to travel to return,
the town was but a few hundred yards below, but the torturous course
of the river turned here and there until it nearly boxed, the compass
every quarter of its way. While the craft is doubling its turns,
plowing the glassy surfaces of its pools or just grazing the rocky
bottom of its rapids, bearing its adventurous crew to the dangers of
a hostile environment, a return to the city, now quiet in the embrace
of night, will disclose in some degree the difficulties which new
moves of counterplotters were erecting in their path. Few lights were
to be seen from the quiet streets. The Cabeza de Toro showed its
usual activity with answering 1 lights from the Candelario's and the
vinoteria, while from the entrance of tho court of the carcel the light
from the lamp over Bonito's door struggled faintly lo tho sidewalk.
Along Main street, headquarters alone were illmninaird. More the
windows of the guard room showed the lazy sentinel as he paced
GUY EAYMOND. 371
before them, up and down his beat. Linda's light was concealed by
the high garden wall, but the plaza escaped total darkness through
the faint rays of Father Ignacio's candle which, like Beatrice's taper,
still burned for the return of the absent.
At headquarters a convocation of deep interest to this narrative
was in progress. The room to which the reader has already paid
one or more visits, was the scene. The little lieutenant of the staff
was apparently the controlling spirit. He was at one end of the
green table, while on the side and to his right, his friend Sancho was
seated, leaning forward, his elbow supporting his hand upraised to
his forehead. Between them was a chess board with a few standing
pieces, showing an unfinished game. The lieutenant and his companion
were both regarding a third party, who having just been admitted
to the apartment, had interrupted a closely contested game of chess
by the communication of some intelligence possessing more than or-
dinary interest. The lieutenant was interrogating him on the sub-
ject :
"You say, Senor Halfen, that this prisoner, Raymond, was out of
his cell, in the jailer's apartments, and that his companions were
were I would like to hear it again from your own lips without put-
ting a leading question."
"The Senorita Navarre, the jailer's daughter and the priest who
has charge of San Fernando," repeated Ducio, emphatically.
"Good company! And the jailer was he about?"
"I overheard that the jailer was out in town, but had taken the
precaution to double the guard during his absence."
"True, I remember now; he asked and received permission to be
absent for a time tonight."
The lieutenant drummed on the table with one of the captured
castles of his adversary.
"You seem to take the news coolly," suggested Ducio.
"It is best, Senor Halfen. We military men must ever be cool.
The Father Ignacio !"
"The Senorita Beatrice !" chimed in Sancho.
"And the pretty Linda! She, too, in a plot to free this hand-
some American !" said the lieutenant.
"This nearly upsets all remembrance I had of our game, Sancho;
whose move was it ?"
"Your's, lieutenant, otherwise it would be a checkmate."
"Lieutenant," interrupted Ducio, chafed at the indifference paid
to the news he had imparted, "you appear so cool over the matter I
had better speedily inform you of something additional that will con-
vince you of the necessity for immediate action."
372 GUT RAYMOND.
"The report you make, senor, shall have due consideration. This
man may be out of his cell, but as for escape, the admirable dis-
cipline and the perfection of every arrangement for the defense
of this post renders it impossible for him to pass our lines. If yc
have further matter to communicate we will listen."
"Then, senor, I have to inform you that Manuel Ruiz, the spy
who was arrested at my instigation, is free, and has been free for
days."
"Impossible ! We get daily reports."
"Very well, senor. But what will you say if he, Ruiz, will this
night meet a force of the Texans, of what size I know not, and guide
them into town?"
"Stuff ! They would but come to their death."
"Let him say on what he bases his information," suggested
Sancho.
"I heard the priest say that he objected not to the prisoner's
escape, but to the fact that Ruiz intended to introduce a rebel force
to take a part."
"He is only a half traitor, then," said the officer.
"This needs action," said Sancho.
"It does. I am thinking about the best means to pursue to bag
the game."
"It is very simple, senor."
"Yours is not a military mind, Sancho. We of the army know our
power, the disposition of our surroundings and at the proper time we
make a move."
"You should certainly get this American back to his cell or sh
him at once, and the traitor, Ruiz, should have no mercy."
"What say you to the Reverend Ignacio; to the recreant jail
to Beatrice, the Navarro beauty with an American education ?"
"They should be arrested."'
"They shall be arrested !"
"All?"
"All."
"And punished?"
"And shot."
"Don Juan has influence."
"Not an ounce. The general has done with him and he sho
answer for the treason of his daughter."
"And overlook her act? It would be a pity to immolate so m
beauty."
"Her beauty is of little moment to you or me or any oilier Mr
GUY RAYMOND. 373
can. There is but one punishment for (reason, and ihat is in^lani
death. If the general, el presidenle. \\ere here tln'v would all he
shot tomorrow. Excuse me, Sunoho. until I send for flie officer of the
guard. There is no use disturbing the general and I will show you
how to block the game of these traitors."
As he said this the little officer stepped io the further door and
rapped three times, then resumed his seat. It was only a moment
before an orderly appeared at the other door and saluted.
"The presence of the officer of the guard is required, here at once;
quick, sir, and let him know it."
The soldier saluted, backed out of the door and was gone."
"Now, Sancho ; you say it is my move."
"Your move."
"I'll just take this knight that has troubled me so long, and now
you are in check from my queen."
"If your military moves are no better than your chess plays, your
enemies will outwit you/ 7 said Sancho, as he moved his remaining
knight into a position checkmating his adversary.
"It's all owing to my mind being absorbed in the news brought
by Senor Halfen," said the lieutenant.
Here the orderly returned, announcing the sergeant of the guard,
who immediately put in an appearanc.
"Well, sir, where is the lieutenant of the guard?"
"He left with the patrol, your worship."
"For what?"
"A report came from post No. 10 that a boat was heard to pass
down the river. It was first taken for a log, but a picket said he
heard a voice that could only have come from the thing he saw pass,
be it boat, or log, or what else."
"The tonto ! There is not a boat in Bcxar, and he is on a fool's
errand. I have work for you, sergeant. Take six men of the patrol
force and go at once to the carcel. You will enter the jailer's house
and arrest everybody in it, be it the jailer himself, or priest, or bishop,
woman or child. I suspect the prisoners are out of their cells, one
an American, the other the traitor Ruiz, whom you know. Arrest
them and, as I said, every soul to be found there, except the sentinels
on duty, and march them to these headquarters. Go at once."
The sergeant saluted and retired.
"I will show you, Sancho, who will beat in this uamc."
"Kni/ is against yon, and a schemer. This gentleman says he
has been on I of jail for days."
"Why did yon not inform us, Senor Halfen?''
374 GUY EAYMOND.
"I am not a professional informer, sir; besides he is so well dis-
guised in his long beard that I would never have recognized him.
learned only tonight that it was he."
"A long beard, you said ?"
"Yes, reaching to the waist."
The two friends interchanged significant looks.
It was a few minutes to midnight by the lieutenant's watch
the sergeant had received his orders to arrest the inmates of Bonito's
establishment. To impress uj>on Sancho and the Creole his ad-
mirable self-command, he chose other topics for discussion so soon
as the subordinate had disappeared. Military matters, his own
bravery in several engagements in which he had taken a part, the
dispicable character of the American Texans, were subjects briefly
considered in the course of a desultory conversation. Meanwhile the
time seemed to drag to the occupants of the office. Without, the
blackness had given way to the even shadowless light of the after
night as the eastern constellations, mounting from the horizon, added
their glow to the silver luster of the meridian. A singular stillness,
broken solely by the notes of nature, rested over the city. The
caged bird on the back veranda whistled a lively answer to his free
challenger in the top of an adjacent cottonwood, while the hooting
of a distant owl, the yelping of a cur, or the crow of an ambitious
cock served to break the monotony of the night-watch. Below the
veranda the cool eddies of the river broke into ripples where they
touched the shallows of the opposite bank and sent the music of the
contact on the bosom of the fresh November wind.
What? Hist! Was it a splash in the water? It might have
been a dead limb, long decayed, which finally parting from the parent
tree, had fallen to the stream to be borne on and on, perhaps to be
the sport of salt waves and ocean currents, until its texture would
be pregnant with a diversity of sea life. Deception so enters into
human experience. The senses are often at fault and the imagination,
with the least touch of the superstitious in the mental makeup, will
lend its aid to mislead and mystify and perplex.
What? A splash again! A night hawk flew from its low perch
on a limb that reached above the water as if scared away.
Another splash, a low word of command, a dark object shot under
the bank opposite the shallows, and a grating sound followed, m
unlike the scraping of a boat's bottom upon the rocky shore.
No imagination here. The sentinel, if he had been posted belc
the veranda, could have Ix-on considerably enlightened by the sound*
of the landing and also by the words which followed, if he understood
the English tongue.
der
no,
low
Qds
GUY RAYMOND. 375
"Nathan, secure the boat. Euiz, out in front and direct the move-
ment. Guide, put youreslf under the instructions of Euiz. All
secure your arms and see that everything is right." Karnes gave the
instructions in a quick undertone, and nimbly jumped to the bank.
While the men were being formed and the arms inspected, Euiz,
at his suggestion, went forward to reconnoiter. He was dressed as a
sergeant of the Mexican army.
Euiz found no impediment to his progress until he reached the
sentinel. The latter was walking from him, and as he was not per-
ceived, he made a detour and approached as if coming from Main
street. The sentinel challenged him.
Euiz promptly replied :
"Sergeant from the outer guard."
"Approach, sergeant, and give the countersign."
Euiz approached a few steps, halted and answered correctly:
"Monterey."
mt is your business, sergeant ?"
dsh to see the adjutant."
'ass on ; the orderly is in the rear."
Seeing but three or four men tying in the guard room, Euiz asked
the sentinel where his sergeant was, with the balance of the force.
The sentinel merely knew that the sergeant had orders to proceed
to the ca reel and arrest everybody there and in the jailer's house.
"Is that the truth ?" asked Euiz, rather dismayed.
"The truth, sergeant; the lieutenant ordered him to arrest even
a b.iphop if he found one there. But go, sergeant, lest I be seen talk-
ing on post."
Euiz left as if to go to interview the adjutant, but after gaining
1he ivju- of the house, he darted down the bank to communicate with
Karnes.
"We have no time to lose, senor."
"What's up?"
"A squad has gone to the jail to arrest everybody, the jailer in-
cluded. Let me have command for awhile, and let no word be spoken
but in Spanish.
"Fall in, men, in single rank! There! File up the bank and
Senor Karnes will form you and hold you at the edge of the veranda."
Euiz led the way, and when the force was aligned as he had in-
iiin;ited, he directed the guide to follow him. They went around the
end of flic building and Unix, approaching the sentinel, stated f that
the adjutant desired to see him on some important matter, and sent
376 GUY RAYMOND.
him orders to surrender his post to the soldier with him for a few mo-
ments
The sentinel hesitated, but concluding that the adjutant's orders
had to be obeyed, he finally allowed himself to be relieved. He ac-
companied Ruiz to the rear, where he was promptly made prisoner
and cautioned that a failure to be quiet would cost him his life.
Ruiz next step was to interview the orderly, whom he discovered
nodding on a bench in the room adjoining the office. He shook the
sleepy fellow, who bounced up and demanded what was wanted.
"Tell the lieutenant that I am back from the carcel and that 1
require more force to arrest the persons there."
"Are you the sergeant? You are not Sergeant Ramirez."
"Do as I command you or I will make a hole in that sleepy head.
Man, you are dreaming."
The orderly obe}^ed, but gave a dubious look at the sergeant as he
rapped at the door of the office.
When the rap was given the lieutenant was in the midst of a de-
scription of a charge in which he participated once upon a time dur-
ing one of the numerous revolutions which had torn his country.
He allowed the rap to be repeated before he gave the permission :
"Entre."
The orderly opened the door and announced :
"Your worship the sergeant he says he is the sergeant-
Ruiz pulled the fellow's blouse.
"Say what I told you!" he whispered.
"What is the matter with you, tonto are you sleep?" asked the
lieutenant.
"May be I am, vour worship ; he said I. was dreaming."
"Who?"
"The sergeant."
"Oh! The sergeant; let him in. Perhaps he has the prisoners.'
Ruiz pulled his cap over his face and, standing in the door, saluted.
"Senor lieutenant, the sergeant whom you sent to the carcel
quests you to send him assistance, or to come in person yourself."
"Who are you, sir?"
"Sergeant of patrol No. 2 ; off duty until four o'clock."
"You are a volunteer, then."
"Si, senor."
"Can't seven men make prisoners of one Gringo, two women
a padre?"
" ( There is no time to lose," said Ruiz, thinking of his own e:
pedition.
ed the
GUT RAYMOND. 377
"I grant you that, sergeant, but-
Ruiz gave a shrill whistle, much to the astonishment of the three
occupants of the office.. Before an explanation could be demanded,
six armed soldiers entered the door, Ruiz having stepped aside to clear
the way.
"What means this, you dogs?" demanded the lieutenant, ex-
citedly.
"It means that you are prisoners and that five hundred men are
inside of your lines, brought in by the traitor to the tyrant of Mexico,
by me Manuel Ruiz. One word from your cowardly throats will
settle it with you for all time. Men, seize this upstart and bind and
gag him. One will do."
"Try your hand, Perry," said Hamilton.
"You do not include me in this arrest," said Ducio.
"The French gentleman is included," said Ruiz. "I have a crow
to pick with you."
It did not take long to secure the prisoners.
"Now, sir lieutenant, upon the truthfulness of your answers will
depend your worthless life. If you lie in any particular you shall
never more strut in gold lace and brass buttons."
The little lieutenant, already bound, was completely cowed. He
gave a trembling promise to state the truth.
"Where does Almonte sleep?" was Ruiz's first interrogatory.
"He slept in the next room south while here."
"While here ? Is he not here now ?"
"He left this afternoon for Matamoras."
"Are you lying?"
"Upon my honor."
"Honor ! As if it ever dwelt in your carcass."
Ruiz now drew Karnes aside for consultation. It was evident
thai they must proceed at once to the carcel to secure the safety of
(Ju\ Ramond and to keep from harm those who were guilty of having
assisted him in the incipient step towards escape. The safety of the
adventurers now rested upon clerity of movement. It was decided
to not divide the force, but to take the prisoners, gagged and bound,
with them to the carcel. The dispositions all being made, the sentinel
whom Ruiz had substituted for the one on post, was instructed to
allow no one to enter the house during their absence at the carcel.
Manuel was well posted as to the character of the low type of the
Mexican soldier, and finding that the orderly and the sentinel he had
relieved were enlisted convicts, he had no trouble in persuading them
to join him, under promise^ of good rations and pay, besides short
378 GUY RAYMOND.
service. This inducement, coupled with the assurance that t
Texans were virtually in possession of the town, settled their cases,
and they fell into line with their muskets. The expedition moved
off as the regular patrol No. 1, with Bonito's house as their d
tination.
CHAPTER LIT.
The time did not drag with Guy after Ruiz left him to meet
Karnes and the boat. The moments glided by on the fleet wings
of congenial intercourse. The beautiful woman whose face had
haunted his dreams, whose being seemed to have become unaccount-
ably interwoven with his own through the mysterious operations of
love, was his companion. For the first time, in close communion,
they read in each other's eyes the decree of fate which assigned
to them a common pathway through the fields which mortals tread.
It was the intuition of natural selection, the magnetism of an as-
similation which never fails to become active when subjected to the
blended forces of circumstance and opportunity that converged the
paths of these two beings until they blended, to point the way through
a future, tinted with the hues of anticipated joys and roseate with
the hopes born of youth and health and virtuous lives. They im-
proved the opportunity and were barely conscious of a call made for
Father Ignacio to attend to some spiritual duty. Linda was a wit-
ness to a devotion which inspired in her a nameless content, that
while it soothed yet pained, which brought a joy mingled with a
dropping tear. The cooing of the doves afforded an interesting pic-
ture, but it failed to arrest a burning desire to witness the departure
of the one in danger. Linda, in fact, was awed by a conscious super-
iority of the lovers to herself. Her sphere was more humble. The
peculiarities of her father debased him to the plane of monomania,
if it fell short of an alienation. The quiet which reigned without
was the counterpart of the peace which prevailed where love held
his sway. The moments sped until the first hour of morning began
to grow, when the stillness of the plaza was broken by the hum of
voices in seeming altercation. The disturbance was followed a liti
later by the return of Father Ignacio, who appeared worried ai
excited. To looks of earnest inquiry, he remarked :
"A spy has witnessed your presence here, Senor Raymond, am
squad of the patrol has been sent to arrest you and all who are to
found in this place."'
"And Ruiz? Has he been heard from?"
"I know not, senor. I met the patrol at the gate and throus
GUY RAYMOND. 379
my influence kept them out until I could get time to notify you."
"We will defend the house/' said Guy.
"But you are one; they are many."
"Miguel is here/' said Beatrice.
"We will hold out until overpowered, at all events. It would be
base to surrender to the cut- throats and be led like sheep to execution.
Father, you had better retire."
"No, my son; I will remain to absolve you, for resistance will bo
certain death. I believe that with your last breath you will see the
light of faith/'
Strong blows on the graden gate now were heard, showing the de-
termination of the sergeant to carry his orders into execution. At
this juncture Linda pleaded that they all should repair to the hall,
which, while it could be taken by the attacking party, was a stronger
position, with only two communications, one leading into her anart-
ment, the other opening into the court. Both were furnished with
stout oaken doors, capable of great resistance. Father Ignacio sec-
onded the suggestion of Linda; Beatrice urged its adoption and Guy
yielded to their persuasion. The party was only well behind the bar-
ricaded door of the hall when the attacking party burst into the
room just vacated. With a yell of disappointment they dealt blows
upon the stout door, which alone remained between them and their
prey. Guy stood calmly by, armed with his rifle and a heavy naval
cutlass, the property of Bonito, which Linda had procured from her
father's room. Miguel, towering above the others, stood close to his
mistress, with determination in his eye and Jose's discarded bar in
his hand, ready to do execution in her service. Guy's object was to
keep the patrol at bay until the arrival of Euiz, which he felt sure
could not be long delayed. His only trouble was his ignorance of the
exact status of affairs, the size of the attacking party and the support
they would have within the next hour. These and a hundred other
thoughts passed through his mind while he watched the door and re-
plied mechanically to remarks of the ladies, who were wonderfully
self possessed, despite the danger which menaced them. Guy pre-
vailed upon them to enter Bonito's room, but they filled its door-
way watching the defenders. Father Ignacio walked the floor, saying
his rosary with a depth of earnestness that indicated his belief in the
great danger which menaced his friend.
Finally the blows on the door ceased, while a hubbub of voices,
mixed with oaths, came from the assailants. Guy was listening to
catch the import of their words, when suddenly the court door rattled
and a voice not to be mistaken called excitedly :
380 GUY RAYMOND.
"Linda! Linda! Abra la pnerta ! r
"It is my father," said Linda.
"Go, Linda, and ask who is with him," said Guy.
Linda obeyed.
"He is alone, but there is a sentinel in the court," she reported.
"Admit him, Miguel, but close the door quick."
The mozo did as he was ordered.
Bonito entered.
"In the name of all the saints, what is this? El pajarro with my ol
cutlass. Y este gigante gigante Miguel with a club el padre
saying his beads and por Dios the Senorita Navarro ? This is the
night of nights. Linda you have roused the hornets. The drunken
patrol are sacking my house, while the notary lies dead in his blood
upon the floor of his office."
"Be quiet, Bonito ! This is a serious moment. I wish to hear
every sound from that room," said Guy.
"Serious ! I should say, but serious to me. How came you out of
the cell without passing the sentinel? You are as supple as a spirit.
Has Ruiz also turned to vapor and floated out through the gratings?
Come, senor, although it is useless, you must go back to your cell.
"I have sent my surplus sentinel to report this drunken mob to head-
quarters. With you in the cell and the mob in the guard house I
"They are no mob, Bonito. They have orders to arrest me, who
have escaped from my cell. I will not surrender. At present I
command here. Go to your room and be quiet or it may be the worse
for you."
Bonito regarded his prisoner for a moment. Guy's determined
expression had its effect and Bonito shuffled off to his room. As he
passed the priest, he gave him a look of significance, as he nodd(
his head towards Guy and muttered :
"Pajarro tan fuerte y bravo !"
The blows again began to rain upon the door, but this time wil
regularity and a concussion which indicated force sufficient enough to
effect its demolition. The crash came sooner than anticipated. Half
the splintered door fell in and a soldier jumped into the hall, only to
be felled by the giant Miguel. A shout from the priest, screams from
the ladies, an anathema from Bonito, the report of Guy's rifle were
mingled with the yells of the Mexicans as they worked on the remain-
ing panel to enlarge the passage. Guy threw aside his gun and bran-
dished the cutlass for work at close quarters, when amid the din
caught familiar shouts that could <-<>mr alone from American throats
"Texas and liberty! Clean out the greasers!"
he
:
L-l J.J.
?
GUY EAYMOND. 381
The words electrified him. He sprang through the breach, and
circling the deadly blade, he dealt telling blows right and left. Guy's
leap anticipated the giant's, who followed the courageous youth and
protected him from more than one bayonet thrust. The melee was at
its height, when Beatrice fell almost fainting at the side of her lover,
who was closely pressed by three or four soldiers with clubbed muskets.
Guy ordered Miguel to carry her back, while having recovered some
of his wind, he dealt still more vigorous blows at his adversaries, whom
he was pressing back, when welcome cries again rent the air.
"Clean 'em up, boys ! Old Nathan's in the lead."
The entrance pell mell from the garden of eight or ten Mexicans
followed this characteristic cry. The long anatomy of Nathan Eoach
followed, while he gave rapid blows with his clubbed musket. The
appearance in quick succession of Hamilton, Perry, Karnes and Jones,
cheering at the top of their voices, indicated a victory. The Mexi-
cans in the room threw down their arms and begged for quarter on
their knees. The rescuers sprang forward and grasped the hand of
Guy, who stood panting for breath, his cutlass red with blood and
his own arm bleeding.
The scene in the room at this moment verged upon the chaotic.
Karnes and Ruiz shook hands with Guy, and then began their hur-
ried preparations for the retreat, which, in all the programme, was to
be the most difficult as to its safe accomplishment, and was to be the
all important act to crown the expedition with success. Linda was
comforting Beatrice, just without in the hall. Father Ignacio was not
a moment after Guy in entering the scene of conflict, but from the
fury of the fight, his pacific efforts were futile, and his offices were
effective only when the din had given place to low moans and cries
of suffering.
His first act was to congratulate Guy and request Ruiz to tie up
the wound in the hero's arm.
Bonito stood in the hall door, apparently speechless, surveying
the general wreck in the apartment and contemplating the damage
to his domicile. He was roused from his reverie by a loud knocking
at the court door.
'Tor mi vida!" he exclaimed. "What is next?"
"Open that door!" commanded Ruiz.
'"You, have waked up with a vengenace," said the jailer, as he
moved to obey the order, remembering in all the excitement how
Ruiz had always been asleep in the far corner of the cell whenever
he had gone to minister to the prisoner's wants.
Bonito turnd the bolt in the lock with some misgiving as what
382 GUY EAYMOND.
was to appear. The creaking of the bolt was followed by an im-
patient push from the outside that in no little degree disturbed his
center of gravity, and which under the more favorable circumstances
of his wonted authority, would have called forth an interminable
jower on his part. The first person who appeared was the sentinel,
whose enforced entrance was apparent from the rope around his
body which seemed to have pinioned his arms together with his mus-
ket in one embrace. Two soldiers, neither having guns, had the
luckless sentry in charge, and brushing the fat jailer aside, they
conducted their prisoner into the room just as Ruiz had finished
binding up Guy's wound.
The latter, looking with surprise at the new comers, Manuel
whispered to him that his cousin Trevino and Jose had captured
the sentinel by lassoing him from the top of the wall, thus securing
the last of the force who was at liberty to spread the news of the raid.
When Bonito was forced aside by Trevino and Jose, he was thrown
over towards the other side of the hall, the impetus of the movement
carrying him to and seating him upon the lounge. To his further
dismay the concealment to his trap gave way, Miguel's temporary
repairs having proven unequal to the task of supporting his weight.
"Otra mala fortuna I" he exclaimed, as the opening to the regions
below was plainly visible.
As the attention of everyone was fixed upon more exciting de-
tails, neither the jailers fall nor the derangement of the trap were
noticed. This becoming apparent to him, Bonito easily let himself
down the opening and disappeared into the vault. A hasty council
of war was now inaugurated to consider some points of embarrass^
ment which the unforseen incidents of the night had raised to con-
fuse the plan of procedure. It would not be prudent to take the
dozen or so prisoners through the streets to attract attention, or to
cumber their movements in case of an attack, when defensive energies
could not brook the restraint which their surveillance would impose.
Kuiz and Karnes admitted Guy to the conference, and the three
moved to one side for an exchange of opinions, while to Hamilton was
entrusted the) duty to get the prisoners together in line and to see
that they retained no description of weapon.
The elegant Mississippian felt his importance at once.
"Mr. Roach ! Marshal the prisoners already in the house.
"Mr. Jones ! Go out and get that bundle of buttons and gold lace
and his two companions and let them fall in with the inside greasers.
"Perry! Excuse me Mr. Asbury! When the line is formed,
go through their pockets and examine their blouses for weapons,
GUY RAYMOND. 383
offensive or defensive, everything, from a jack knife to an Arkansas
tooth-pick."
Hamilton gave vent to these orders in rapid words and with an
air of authority.
Nathan was rather mystified as to the bounds of his instructions
as embodied in the term "marshal." He was quite sure he was to
dispose of the captured greasers, but whether it was meant that he
should employ the summary measures of Mexican custom or Indian
practice, or the more humane mode of his own civilization, he was
somewhat at a loss.
" 'Pears to me, Mister Hamilton, that Perry's orders orter been
given fust, as l'.se got to dispose of 'em. I 'spose you want me to
choose the way, seem' you didn't say ef I was to do it injun fashion,
or greaser fashion, or how."
"Get them together, you elongated specimen of the genus homo.
Put the prisoners into line, everyone that's able to stand."
"Now you're talkin' 'Merican, or, at least, part was. Come,
you yaller-bellies, get into line."
The prisoners not comprehending, Nathan seized one by the col-
lar and put him in position, and kept repeating the act until he
had eight of the captured men in the required positions. Perry,
who had been waiting the movements of Roach, deftly searched the
men, capturing two sheath knives.
Jones, who had been sent for the outsiders, returned after a few
moments with the lieutenant and Sancho, reporting Ducio could not
be found. This item of intelligence at once adjourned the council
of war, as the escape of the Creole meant mischief to them.
"How came he to escape?" questioned Ruiz of the man who had
been placed in charge of the three captured at headquarters.
"He did not escape, senor. A man, whom I supposed had been
sent by you, came up only a moment ago and said that you wanted
the Frenchman, and I allowed him to leave. He and your supposed
messenger, I thought, entered this house."
"Describe the messenger."
"He was a youth of slender build, and by the light of my cig-
arette I saw he wore a red sash."
"Fool ! How could you turn over a prisoner to a stranger ?
Search the garden."
The garden was quickly beat up, but no sign of the missing Ducio
could be seen.
When Jones was entering the house to report the news of Ducio's
>, two figures, one tall and muscular, the other slender and of
384 GUY KAYMOND.
medium height, stole quietly from beneath the banana tree in the
dark corner and hurried, unobserved, out into the plaza.
Inside the excitement bordered on confusion.
Under the escort of Guy, all the prisoners, except the lieutenant
and Sancho were marched quickly to the court and thence to the cells,
a demand for the keys having been promptly met by Linda, who pro-
cured them from her father's room. Every captured man able to be
moved was thus safely jailed.
Preparations for departure were now at once begun. The men
were formed in the court to resemble the regular patrol, the two re-
maining prisoners being placed in the center of the column, and here
they awaited the order to move.
In Bonito's room Beatrice and Linda, each with an arm encircling
the others waist, stood in tearful anxiety. The scenes they had
witnessed, trying as they were, were as naught compared with the
dread which would creep into their hearts lest the termination of
the adventure should prove more tragical still. The danger was yet
ahead.
When Guy entered to say good-bye the priest and Linda con-
siderately left the apartment.
"Oh, Guy! The danger which surrounds you emboldens me to
cast aside reserve," said Beatrice, throwing herself into her lover'?
arms.
1 Guy held her to his breast for a moment, then pushing her to arm's
length, he looked yearningly into the depths of her eyes.
"Beatrice, it is hard to part at the very moment when the light
of your love first dawns upon me. It is hard to think that the dangers
which await me this night may be the arbiter of our fates; that two
lives seemingly destined to flow in unison throughout a hopeful fu-
ture, may be this day separated by the destruction of one. I go to
meet whatever exigency may be in waiting with that calm and cool
philosophy which alone is worthy of the dignity of true manhood.
You will be sustained by the comforting assurances of your subtle
faith. Therefore in this, our parting moment, let us rise above
human weakness, and resting our cause with human virtue and human
courage, we will rely upon our own inherent powers to survive all
casualties and overcome all obstacles which may intervene to pre-
vent a happy reunion."
"Oh, noble Guy ! I pray that I may be worthy of a love so true
as yours. My heart goes with you and if and if oh, Guy !"
"Darling, I must be going. Every moment builds up more danger
in my path, and for your dear sake I would live."
A>
:
GUY EAYMOND. 385
He embraced her tenderly, then tore himself away. As he passed
through the court he took leave of the priest and Linda. From the
latter he claimed and received a sister's kiss, bestowed in a manner
denoting affection, but with a fervor that caused the recipient to
recall the circumstance more than once in the next few hours.
In the court Euiz, as sergeant, took charge, and giving his com-
mands in Spanish, put the squad in motion.
As they filed out into the street, Father Ignacio looked after them
from the narrow entrance and, making the sign of the cross, he mut-
tered the blessing:
"Dominus vobiscum."
The light shone from the Cabeza de Toro, where a knot of men
stood in the doorway. The captive, Sancho, deeming this a good
opportunity to give notice of his detention and the true character
of the party, yelled at the top of his voice :
"These are rebels ! Help ! Help I"
"Take that for your pains," said Hamilton, clubbing him with his
musket.
"Another cry and you are a dead man," said Ruiz in Spanish.
Sturdily they moved along the broken streets, the walls echoing
their measured tread, with no other sounds save the commands of
Ruiz, uttered in mimicry of the regular sergeant greeting whatever
ears were on the qui vive. The hostile city was sleeping in fancied
security, strong in its appointments for defense in its guards and
outposts, little dreaming that a daring band of "Gringos" had by strat-
egy penetrated its very heart and seized the military headquarters.
The party safely gained the vicinity of headquarters into which
they turned, and receiving the challenge from the sentinel still on
duty, Ruiz announced his party as the patrol, and givng the counter-
sign, passed on back of the building to the veranda. Much de-
pended now upon time. Ruiz had a duty to perform, which he had
to postpone on account of the information given by Ducio, and the
consequent descent of the patrol on the carcel. Now the same slip-
pery Frenchman was at large ready to bring down the whole gar-
rison upon them.
He concluded that it was necessary to dare in order to accomplish.
He had the convicts on his hands and numbers were a disadvantage,
unless they were large numbers. Ruiz was equal to the emergency,
:uid ho speedily gave his orders:
"Mr. Hamilton, you will have the prisoner, Sancho, here; no,
not tluil. bundle of lace; this fellow; have him and those two volun-
teer convicts bound and gagged. Also similarly secure those fellows
e
386 GUT RAYMOND.
in the guard-room. Lieutenant, you will follow me into your office
and get me out some papers. If you are quick and obedient it will
be well for you, but hesitate a moment and your dead carcass will be
food for the river fish."
"I'd like his coat/' said Nathan. "Tarnation! with that a' coa
I'd git a ferlo and turn half the gals crazy on the Sabine."
"Silence I" said Karnes. "Every mother's son keep quiet/'
Hamlton carried out the orders to bind and gag the prisoners,
while Ruiz was in the office with the lieutenant.
In a few minutes the two latter returned, Ruiz tapping his breast
pocket in reply to an inquiry from Karnes, signifying that he had
the papers.
"Who was that one wanting this pretty coat?" asked Ruiz.
"Me!" answered Nathan.
"Well, Mr. Me, you can have it. This fellow told me a lie while
in that office, and to punish him I am going to make him give up
his coat. I know he would almost as soon die as to lose it. Mr.
Lieutenant, pull off that coat."
The officer reluctantly complied.
Ruiz took the garment, and pitching it to Nathan, the latter
caught it on his bayonet.
"A hole in it to start on and nary a needlefull of darnin' cotton
left!"
Nathan's remark, uttered in a doleful tone, inspired a laugh,
which, in spite of the danger of discovery, was indulged in by the
whole party.
The lieutenant was gagged and sent to keep company with th
other captives. Karnes ordered the men to the river to begin th
retreat at once.
At the suggestion of Trevino, himself, Jose and the three me:
whom he had brought from his camp were ferried across the river
so that they could make a detour to the Alameda. After this w
successfully effected, the sentinel was called off and the old ere
embarked, with Guy along to augment their number.
CHAPTER LIII.
Sunday night had been appointed by Ducio Halfen as an occasion
for a long interview with his new friend, the Senorita de la Torre;
but the impulsive Creole could not resist the temptation to impart
to the authorities his discovery of the suspicious appearances of
GUY RAYMOND. 387
affairs at the carcel. His capture by the raiding band under Karnes
and Ruiz prevented him from a later fulfillment of the engagement.
The no less impulsive Josef a was wroth at the non-appearance of
Ducio, and in 'doubt as to what should have made him a truant to
the tryst, she finally determined to ascertain, if possible, the cause
of his absence. No better mode suggesting itself than a resort to
the disguise which she had employed on a former occasion, she
leisurely donned her male attire, hoping that ere her toilet would
be completed, Ducio might make his appearance. When she finally
sallied forth it was in time to reach the plaza as the fight between
the raiders and the entrapped patrol was at its height. A strong
presentiment led her to believe that the truant Ducio was in some way
mixed up in the affair, and the magnetism of the idea drew her closer
and closer to Linda's gate. The compromising position in which
she had discovered him on the very night before, in the apartment
of the pretty daughter of the jailer, might have had something to
do with her suspicion that Ducio was again haunting the same
locality. At all events Josefa found herself close to the wall door
as the combat ceased, and was very little surprised when, of three
voices heard near the gate, she recognized one as belonging to him
whom she was seeking.
"What will this end in?" said one voice.
"The town will surely find out that something is wrong, and
the news will reach the officers on duty," said another voice.
"Lieutenant, this does not look much like the well-appointed
military government of which you were boasting a while ago." This
last was Ducio's voice.
"Keep silent!" ordered the guard, who had charge of them.
Josefa edged up close to them, and when the guard lighted a
cigarette she plainly saw the features of Ducio.
A. whispered inquiry made her presence known to the latter, and
at the same time drew from him enough to apprise her of the
situation.
She rapidly conceived and boldly carried out the ruse which, as
already related, set Ducio free. The latter^s first idea was revenge
for his capture. He prevailed upon his liberator to allow him to
accompany her home, before he hurried to alarm the garrison.
"Have you arranged for our departure?" she asked.
"Tomorrow, or at furthest, Tuesday, if nothing will prevent."
"Then come early tomorrow and we will discuss those plans
YMI -poke of. There must be an understanding, you know."
"Ivxpect me early. I will be in a better mood tomorrow to
388 GUY EAYMOND.
thank you for this night's work. Good night, Josefa."
"Adios until tomorrow."
Ducio hurried away and made all haste to apprise the officer of
the day of the rebel invasion of the place. To do this he was
compelled to seek that officer either at the Alamo, or at the camp
on the small peninsula just below the mill ford. At both of these
places was stationed a distinct section of the guard, with prescribed
limits of duty similar to the section which had been captured at
headquarters. Fearful of recapture, he avoided the Main street
route, and turned his steps to the Alamo.
"Pull away, right oar! There now together so. Attend to
your muffle, Mr. Jones; your oar is striking the bare rowlock. Euiz,
you will have to say when we reach those points you spoke of."
"All right, Mr. Karnes. There will be two places to bother us
the mill above the ford and the getting around that peninsula, where
a section of the guard is camped."
"I wish we could return the way we came."
"That the current won't allow; while down stream it will assist
us to escape," explained Euiz. "We left in good time," continued
Manuel, "for the hounds are upon our trail. Do you hear those
yells? That French scoundrel has put in his work."
"There is a racket about something, and I suppose it's us they
are yelling about."
"The boat will mystify them," suggested Euiz.
"I don't know about that," said Guy, as the boat turned a sharp
bend and brought to view a light over the river. "If I mistake not,
that is held from the Main street bridge to disclose our presence."
"I believe Senor Eaymond is right," said Euiz, "and a fellow
is holding the torch."
"It will never do to run into that light," said Karnes. "Slow
up, men!"
The boat slackened her pace. The tiller brought her under the
deep shadows of a line of willows which extended along the left
bank to within a hundred yards or so from the bridge.
"Pull slow and steady," was the next command.
"Allow me to suggest something," said Guy.
"That's what I'd like," replied Karnes.
"It is this. Pull easily until Euiz here thinks we are in rifle
distance. Then I will guarantee to make that fellow drop, and
perhaps drop that light into the river."
"If you feel confidence enough in your marksmanship, it is a
GUT RAYMOND. 389
bargain; but Mr. Raymond, there are two or three of the finest shots
in Texas in this boat/'
"I will give way to any one, Mr. Karnes, for the work, but not
in point of marksmanship. I had no equal among the Lipans."
"The horse thievin' critters," put in Nathan.
"I vote that Mr. Raymond be the one to plug that son of -
Mexico/' said Hamilton.
"Well, sir, he shall have the honor, as he spoke of it first," said
the commander. "The only thing to consider is: will it be the
best to shoot him, and show our position?"
"We have no time to lose," said Ruiz. "We can draw up close
to the bank, and they will never be the wiser of our position. If
the torch is put out we can pass under the bridge before they can
renew it, if indeed anyone will dare to hold another torch, to be
shot at."
"Your argument is good," said the commander.
"Mr. Raymond, get ready for the work. Mr. Ruiz will inform
you about the distance, as he is familiar with these parts."
The boat had been slowly feeling its way under the branches of
the willows and had probably reached the proper distance, for Karnes
had scarcely finished speaking when Ruiz said to Guy:
"Are you well loaded?"
"Good for one hundred and fifty yards," replied Guy.
"Get ready, then."
"I'll bring her closer to the bank," said Karnes, sweeping the
water astern with his broad paddle. "Then Perry, get hold of that
willow branch and let her swing with the current to give Mr. Ray-
mond a steady aim, for he's got a hard shot to make."
"No matter about that," said Guy, bringing to his shoulder the
rifl.e that had made many a deer and buffalo drop, up on the San
Saba. A hanging branch interfered for a moment. Silence prevailed
while the marksman awaited his opportunity. All eyes were turned
upon the light, which moved a little up and down with the unsteady
hands of the holder, whose face was at the moment visible as he
leaned upon the rail, apparently watching the river.
The report of Guy's rifle, sharp and clear, was followed instantly
by the falling of the torch into the swift current under the bridge.
"Pull away with a will!" instantly came from the commander's
lips. "All keep silent !"
The boat was brought about and headed down stream. Under
the vigorous strokes of the rowers the craft fairly leaped through
390 GUY RAYMOND.
the water, and in another moment had swiftly shot under and past
the bridge. A confusion of voices overhead, the tramp of feet, a
few discharges of firearms, the latter perhaps in random reply to
Guy's telling shot, were evidences that the mystified enemy was on
the alert, but had failed to catch a glimpse of the boat, and if any
sounds, unavoidably produced in its management, had greeted hostile
ears, they but served to further confuse and mystify them. The
rapidity of the current soon brought the boat well into the pool above
the dam, where stood the old mill, and where the foot-bridge crossed
just below it, spanning the swift and narrow race, and overlooking
the little island whose cress-covered surface was half submerged by
the escaping waters pouring through the fissures in the low rock
wall. It was here that Guy was arrested, while engaged in the diver-
sion of throwing Roll a into the water. Upon this foot-bridge Ruiz
had informed Karnes a sentinel would be encountered, and as it
would be necessary to lift the boat from the water and to carry it
over the dam, the post would have to be captured, or the risk of
detection incurred, in which latter event an alarm would be communi-
cated to the guard on the peninsula a few hundred yards below. It
having been decided to take the smaller risk, the boat was landed
at the eastern end of the low wall, composing the dam where it
joined the bank. Ruiz volunteered to take four men, with whom
he proposed to accomplish the capture of the sentinel, who was sup-
posed to be posted at the usual place on the bridge near the mill.
Hamilton, Jones, Roach and the Mexican guide, having beer,
assigned to the duty of acting with Ruiz, the latter formed them
in line with fixed bayonets. After imparting to them the proposed
mode of procedure, he enjoined perfect silence, and marched them
by twos to the bridge. Once upon the boards they imitated the
regular tramp of the Mexican patrol. As they neared the mill the
sentinel's clear challenge was heard :
"Quienes?"
The men were promptly halted and Ruiz replied that he was
sergeant of a portion of the patrol in search of some parties w
were disturbing the town.
"Advance, sergeant, and give the countersign."
"Monterey," returned the sham sergeant.
The unsuspecting sentinel made room for the passage of the
supposed patrol, who were put in motion when the. former affirmed
tin; correctness of tho pass-word. When they arrived to within
almost reach of (lie scniind, the latter, in spite of the assent which
he had given to their purpose to pass, gave a yell of alarm and dis-
GUY RAYMOND. 391
charged his piece. Tn response, Nathan, who was nearest to him,
clubbed him with his musket, felling him f ( > (he | )r i,| uv floor, whence
he rolled into the river. Rui/ at once comprehended the danger
of their discovery by a detachment which the report of (he gun
would inevitably bring down upon them from the peninsula A
retreat to the boat could not be made without encountering the
expected contingent. All this flashed through his mind, and in an
instant he formed his decision.
"Compadre!" he said to the Mexican guide. "Swap coats with
me. T wish to get rid of these sergeant's stripes."
The exchange of uniforms was quickly made.
"Now/ 7 continued Ruiz, addressing the men, "Go right back to
where the other end of the bridge touches the island, and get under
it near the steps. Remain there as still as death, until we can know
what effect that shot will have on the guard over there. I will stay
here raid play sentinel. Quick! Men, I can hear the storm coming."
The men obeyed the order promptly, and were the next moment
stowed away beneath the steps which rose from the little island to
the level of the foot-bridge.
Ruiz walked his post.
He was not deceived as lo the character of noises he heard when
he urged his little squad to make haste to con real' themselves. They
were the premonitions of a danger that he must somehow averl.
Before he had time to mature a plan ihe tramp of men at a
run was heard upon the bridge connecting Ihe further hank with
the island. An instant more and they were upon him. His chal-
lenge halted them.
Ruiz took care to mimic the voice of the sentinel whom they
had put hors du combat.
The party announced its character, and the officer in charge
demanded the cause of the tiring.
The bogus sentinel replied:
"Some men fried io force a passage over the bridge. When I
fired they ran."
"Citizens or soldiers?"
"I could not tell in this darkness, but I could see one who came
nearest to me was very tall, and sergeant, I suspect that they were
rehols, for when I came on post, a Frenchman met the relief and
asked for direction to the General's, saying that a force of rebels
had taken the office at headquarters, and had captured the carcel and
turned loose the prisoners."
"Which way did these fellows run who tried to pass here?"
392 GUY EAYMOND.
"Back towards the carcel."
"Then I'll follow them. Come, men, to the carcel !"
The squad took the double-quick step and were soon out of
hearing.
Euiz called up his men.
"To the boat! No time to lose now!"
The party made all haste to where Karnes was preparing the
boat for transportation overland for a distance of forty or fifty
yards, across the neck of the peninsula. This work was performed
by the entire party, who, four on each side, lifted their brave little
craft, and in a few minutes had the satisfaction to see it safely
launched below the point they had most dreaded to pass.
At the command of Karnes all of the men, including the cap-
tured sentinel, were soon in their places ready to shove off, except
Euiz and Guy, who still lingered.
The latter, with one foot upon the bow, seemed ready to enter,
but Euiz detained him.
"You must come with us," Guy was saying.
"No, Senor Eaymond. I have a duty yet unperformed, and it
will require my presence in town a few more hours to give it my
attention. If I have good luck I will join you in camp tomorrow
night. These papers I would like to have delivered to General B -.
You will be prepared to give him much information in regard to
the garrison here/'
Saying this, Euiz wrung Guy's hand and turned abruptly away
into the darkness.
As soon as Guy had taken his place aboard Nathan pushed the :
boat from the shore and once more it was headed down the stream.
Before them the darkness was too great to detect the sharp
turns of the river and cautious rowing and a rapid current were
depended upon for guidance, rather than to the dexterity of Karnes
and his broad paddle. Behind them the score of lights and the ;
increasing hub-bub of an excited garrison was soon lost to eye and j
ear.
The torturous course of the river and the difficulties of navigation |
were impediments preventing a speedy termination of the boat's I
passage to the destination of its adventurous crew. The gray dawn J
was visible in the east, when Karnes gave the order to haul the I
craft on the bank preparatory to a resort to camps, by way of the ]
Mission of Concepcion, whose venerable walls rose darkly above the I
tree tops, about a quarter of a mile distant. The party were in j
high spirits on account of the success of the expedition, and they 1
GUY EAYMOND. 393
gave full vent to their hilarity as they struggled along over ground so
suggestive of incidents of the late battle, allusions to which were
indiscriminately made with other remarks on their later and more
thrilling experience. Nathan's long stride kept him well in advance,
necessitating now and then a turn and halt, to guarantee an audience
for an occasional sally or a rejoinder to some half comprehended
thrust from Hamilton. Every act and word of the backwoodsman
was eminently characteristic, and the comedy of shape and movement
were illy disguised beneath the hostile uniform, scant and ill fitting,
which covered his own slick homespun. At each turn he made, the
flashy lace of the Mexican lieutenant's coat, which depended from
his left arm, shone in conspicuous contrast with his rough attire.
At the jacal, in the rear of the mission, Locaria still presided,
and here, awaiting the returning party, was Mr. Trigg, anxious to
greet the boy he had lost on the banks of the Salado,
"Guy, me boy I"
"Mr. Trigg!"
The two indulged in a hearty embrace.
Guy's look eloquently conveyed the intelligence of the strong
desire burning within him. The scene on the Salado on that eventful
Sunday morning rose vividly before him, and he felt the full weight
of the impression that, in his presence, were lips that could unfold
what to him had been so long a sealed uncertainty.
Mr. Trigg comprehended the mute appeal.
"Wait a spell, me boy. In the camp beyond I will have ye to
myself, and I will tell ye the whole sad story. Meantime, be com-
forted in the knowledge that the girl is safe and happy as a girl
can be, who only hopes she will see her dear brother."
Guy pressed the hand of his friend, and was about to express
thanks, when the wail of a woman claimed every one's attention.
The cry came from Locaria, as she threw herself upon the
Mexican prisoner, who stood with bound hands in the rear, unno-
ticed except by Perry, who had been placed over him as guard.
When explanations of her strange conduct followed, the captured
sentinel proved to be her brother, who had been impressed into the
service of Mexico. On learning this, the prisoner was promptly
released, his sister guaranteeing that he would henceforward be true
to Texas.
394 GUY EAYMOND.
CHAPTEK LIV.
After Guy sufficiently recovered from the shock which the story
of the fate of his family, as detailed from the lips of his Irish friend,
had given him, he began to turn his attention to the situation of
affairs among the forces arrayed against the city he had just left.
The small expedition which had penetrated the lines, captured the
headquarters of the enemy, released him from prison and extricated
itself by a bold push through his entire position, set him to thinking
of the feasibility of capturing the place by a proper utilization of
American pluck. Behind him, in their power, remained Beatrice,
who had more or less compromised herself by aiding in his escape.
This impression, perhaps the master influence in support of his idea,
gave earnestness to his manner and eloquence to his tongue when,
in seeking headquarters to deliver Ruiz's commission to General
B , he urged the policy of an immediate attack on the town.
He became more determined than ever to rouse the men of the
several commands to the necessity of the movement, when, on the
following day, he received news of the arrest of both Beatrice and
Linda. The latter intelligence was brought by Euiz, who suddenly
appeared in camp on Wednesday morning, having successfully passed
the lines the night before. The mess were at breakfast when Manuel
arrived, and having made a place for him at the log table, they
invited him to impart his news from the city.
"Do you want to hear it all ?"
"All \" cried several voices.
"Begin where you left us at the boat," suggested Jones.
"Give us the plain, unvarnished, Ruiz; no elephantine embellish-
ment's," said Hamilton, cutting his eye at Jones.
"Well," said Ruiz, "after leaving you all at the boat, I boldly
struck out for the Alameda, to see if my cousin, Trevino, had arrived
safely back to his tent. By skirting the east side of the Alamo ditch,
I did not meet any one, and found Trevino looking as fresh and
innocent as an angel. A special patrol had just left his camp, after
poking their noses into everything to see if they could get at a
sign of a rebel having been that way. After a short stay, I went to
Main street, passing over the bridge where you made that fine shot,
Senor Raymond. A company of infantry was just passing over it
at the time, going, I suppose, to help catch the rebel force, so I fell
in behind them and passed unchallenged to the plaza. Headquarters
GUY RAYMOND. 395
was like a beehive into which you had poked a stick. The yard was
swarming with soldiers, and officers were hurrying about. I imitated
everybody else and moved about, noticing and listening. I caught
parts of the talk about the rebels, who had come and disappeared so
suddenly, and was much amused. Some thought spirits had done
the work as men in the flesh could not have disappeared. My name
was mentioned several times as having led the parly. ?md I found
that this came from the lieutenant of the staff, the loss of whose
uniform seemed to be generally known. Having heard it mentioned
that Linda and the Senorita Navarro had been aiders in the escape
of the prisoners at the carcel, I went to Bonito to try to hear from
the ladies. Bonito was fussing about, directing two mozos, whom
he had employed to set to rights the desecrated apartment of his
daughter. The old fellow was viewing the wreck of his inner door,
one panel of which he was holding up to its place in an aimless
attempt to make it stay there.
" 'No mas mala fortuna !' he was saying to himself.
"With my cap pulled down over my face, I disguised my voice
and spoke to him:
" 'Senor, are you the jailer?'
" 'I am, amigo, but not for long. I am going to quit. A jailer
has only misfortunes. You see, amigo
<e ( I .have not time, Mr. Jailer, fo hear your troubles. T have
ordTs to arrest the Senorita Navarro. She was here tonight.'
" c Es verdad, but she is not here now. Is this a fit place for
women for ladies? This blood, these broken doors this
" Tou forget, Mr. Jailer. I'm on business. Where is the
senorita ?'
"'Quien sabe. At home, no doubt. Linda, poor child, is with
her. Arrest her! Must the government make war on women? She
is as innocent as Linda of crime, and arrests are made for crimes,
Senor Sergeant. Better arrest the devils who have turned my house
topsy turvey and let out my prisoners/
e { 'Prisoners ? Who were they ?'
'"You are getting over your hurry, sergeant. Yon could not
spare a moment to hear of my misfortune; but these prisoners were
brave fellows half devils, half men yet gentle and real caballeros.
It was nothing for them to pass through the bars of the cell, or
perhaps the keyyhole, and yet their flesh and blood were as yours
and mine. You should see him fight el pajarro as I called him.
He cut and slashed the mob with my old cutlass as if he were a
man o' war's boarder of twenty years' service. He sent me below
396 GUY RAYMOND.
as if I had been the cook or steward or
" 'What about the other prisoner ?'
" 'Oh ! The sleeper Ruiz Manuel Ruiz he is a good fellow,
but he got into a habit of sleeping in the cell, until he dreamed
himself out of it and I hear he has been getting revenge on his
enemies by leading a number of rebels into town."
"I left Bonito still aimlessly working at his broken door, satisfied
that the ladies had not been arrested, and sought the repose I needed.
The next day I kept close at my cousin's, sending him out to get
information. In the afternoon Trevino returned and informed me
that the Senorita Navarro and Linda, the jailer's daughter, had
been placed under arrest for assisting prisoners to escape. After
dark I went to the priest's house to see Jose about an affair between
us. He was at home, as was also Father Ignacio. From the priest
I learned that his niece, Josefa de la Torre, had left the city in
company with the fellow Ducio Halfen. She had gone against the
wishes of her mother and uncle, both of whom were much troubled
at the event. Having nothing further to detain me in town, I suc-
ceeded in passing the lines last night, and here I am."
The news brought by Ruiz had a marked effect npon Guy Ray-
mond. He laid before Mr. Trigg a plan upon which to make a move
for the capture of the town.
"It is a bold one, me boy," he said. "But pluck will do it."
"That's my idea, Mr. Trigg, and Ruiz thinks it will' be easy
of accomplishment under the right leaders."
"There's many of the officers here as is not fit to lead. The
meeting they had last night ended in the postponement of an attack,
and it is reported now that orders will be coming soon to raise the
seige and go home."
"If such orders are issued it will be a sorry day for some of the
officers."
"They say it's all because one of the guides is absent."
"A mere excuse. I can get a dozen guides to fill the absent
one's place."
"Our squad's in favor of going, and they're talkin' the men of
the other companies into it. I'm tired of this do-nothing business,
which is weakening us every day."
"The victory at Concepcion should have been followed by the
capture of San Antonio. Father Ignacio almost admitted to me
that it could have been done, and said the Mexicans dreaded an
assault."
"Is he the praste that came to see me after the fight?"
GUY EAYMOND. 397
"He is the same."
"I remember he couldn't get me name right, and although I told
him the five letters, he pronounced it as long as if it had twenty.
They are not as sharp as our Irish prastes, who take to all lan-
guages, even if they can't spake them. This Father Ignagio is a
very dacent man and has been kind to ye, which will cover up a
deal of short-comings."
The next morning the whole camp was astir with excitement.
Around General B '& tent a crowd was assembled, talking over
the situation. Among the officers generally the idea of an assault
on the town was unpopular, but the feeling among the troops showed
the effect of the agitation inaugurated by Guy and the squad which
had so recently shown what a few determined men may accomplish.
A little removed from the crowd was another gathering of men,
chiefly private soldiers, surrounding the well-known figure of a
popular officer. The la i ! or was listening to arguments in favor of
an immediate attack, to all of which he assented. To every such
indication of his approval, a cheer would go up from the men. The
favorable temperament of the rank and file, whetted by the enthu-
siasm of the moment, suggested to Guy Raymond a plan to make
it bear good fruit. Acting upon the impulse of the moment, he
stepped close to the officer's ear and suggested that he step to one
side and call out loudly for volunteers to follow him into town. The
suggestion was most opportune, for the officer, who was Colonel Ben
Milam, took at once a central position between the two assemblages,
and cried out the now historic words:
"Who will go with old Ben Milam into San Antonio?"
The air was immediately rent with shouts of approval, and before
many minutes three hundred volunteers were in line, ready to follow
Milam to victory. During the enthusiasm of the moment Colonel
Milam introduced Lieutenant V - of the Mexican army, who had
deserted from the enemy and reported the city ripe for capture. This
put more confidence into some of those who had been only half
hearted in the enterprise. When the lieutenant was introduced, to
the surprise of Euiz, he identified him as the officer of the staff
whom he had forced to part with his coat on the night of the raid.
The next morning the 5th of December was fixed for the movement,
and the camp was busy with preparation.
The whole of our mess had volunteered. Their number was now
augmented by Guy and the brother of Locaria, the latter having
beggesd the mess to adopt him.
The members were just through supper, and had been discuss-
26
398 GUY KAYMOND.
ing the organization of the two attacking divisions, under Colonels
Milam and Johnson, which had been effected that evening at a meet-
ing held at the old mill. Jones was busy cooking rations for three
days, while the others were seated or standing watching him, or
conversing of the event of the morrow.
Mr. Trigg had lighted his pipe and was giving some instructions
to Guy, relative to the latter's future, in case the casualities of the
coming conflict should include him among the victims.
"You see, I might be killed; and then there's no one but ye to
look after Stella. There'll be plenty for both o' ye, and if anything
comes of the paper I was telling about, ye might be rich enough."
"I trust we both will get through safe, Mr. Trigg; but why is it
necessary for you to go? Let the young men do this/'
"I wouldn't be caught loitering, me boy. I volunteered, and
there's an end of it."
"What about the possession of this paper? If I had only known
that this Creole was the thief, I could have gotten Ruiz to attend to
him. You say the paper explains everything?"
"The two together. The one stole at the mission is the draft
of an island and has marks upon it which the other paper explains.
The other paper was in a verse like, and was left in the charge of a
Portugese who's in San Antonio, or was there not a great while
back."
"A Portugese a Portugese," thought Guy.. "Can it be Bonito?
It must be Bonito. Hidden treasure! Can it be that the treasure
the paper will disclose is the same that he has hid in the vault!
Guy mused a while, then asked :
"Could this island treasure have been moved recently, or at
without the paper and its key?"
"No; tfye old gunner said it was not possible to discover
without the sheerest chance."
At this moment Ruiz came up in company with the deserter f i
the Mexicans.
"Allow me to introduce Lieutenant V , late of the Mexi<
army," he said, in Spanish first, and afterwards in English.
Hamilton, seeing his opportunity, said:
"Hello, Nathan ! What you going to do about it ?"
"'Bout what?"
"This officer wants his pretty coat. He is the gentleman
gagged and left minus his gold lace."
"He ain't got no claim to that 'ar coat; besides, ef he's desei
he can't wear it."
GUY EAYMOND. 399
"Personal apparel in actual use is not a legitimate prize in civi-
lized warfare, Mr. Roach," contended Hamilton.
"You keep your dictionary rubbish, Mr. Hamilton, and I'll keep
the coat. See here, boss," he continued, addressing Lieutenant V .
"You'll have to fight for that coat, for I'm goin' to take it to the
Sabine, and the fust tinue I go to Orleans I'm goin' to trade it to an
organ grinder for his monkey to wear."
Ruiz interpreted this to the lieutenant as an inquiry to ascertain
if he wanted his coat.
In reply he begged its present possessor to keep it as he had no
further use for it. Hamilton having insisted that this answer meant
just the reverse, Nathan reasserted his intention to hold fast to
his prize.
There were few who slept in the Texan camp on the night suc-
ceeding the determination of the volunteers to follow the lead of
Milam into the hostile city. The old mill was the scene of a hasty
organization, which resulted in the formation of two divisions; one
to be under the i in mediate command of Milam, the other with Frank
W. Johnson as its leader. With the latter division Karnes and our
mess were assigned to duty. As the night wore on the sounds of
preparation continued and there were few laggards when the word
went round from camp fire to camp fire to proceed to the rendezvous.
The men fell into position under the supervision of their leaders, and
there was a marked absence of levity as greetings and words were
exchanged with each new arrival. The coming event, while it filled
the minds and shaped the remarks which voiced the sentiments of
comradeship, promised to be a collision fraught with danger and
prophetic of defeat, to be averted only by a sublime heroism which
inspired the movement.
The attack was deemed to be ill advised by the highest authority
of the investing forces, and was therefore to be made in violation
of the rules of scientific warfare. Ti was a movement of the men
and a following of the officers. The rank and file developed a nearer
tie the tie of mutual dependence in the individual courage which
augured victory against the dicta of principles.
Nathan Roach was a typical volunteer.
He would not waste time in a debate as to the advisability of
attacking an overwhelming force of Indians or Mexicans where there
was an apparent necessity for fighting.
His prompt decision would be to fight, and if defeat succeeded,
to consider the causes at his leisure. With Nathan it was the
400 GUY RAYMOND.
animal; with Hamilton it was pride which overbalanced the dread
of consequences.
Perry, yet under tutelage, was an apt pupil who would go down
to his death under orders.
So, all through, up or down the list of the three hundred,
heroism was the development of characteristic energies having their
inceptions in higher or lower promptings. With Guy Raymond cour-
age was a normal concomitant of a cultured mind, trained to a
high conception of duty and imbued with a hereditary instinct of
honor. His participation in the attack would not wholly parallel in
motives with that of any who would follow Milam or Johnson. He
was impatient with the semi-barbarism of Mexican supremacy and
regarded its overthrow in Texas as a part of the mission of his
race. Therefore, he was not actuated by prospective booty, or by
&ny of the material gains of conquest. But the moral side of the
advantages of victory was, for the time, but a secondary considera-
tion with the lover of the fair Beatrice Navarre. His arder to act
at once, in her behalf, was no small part of the moral force that
matured the spirit to attack. It was then not strange that among
the restless camp, his mind was the most active, his hopes the
most earnest, and his resolution the most determined.
The news brought by Ruiz regarding the arrest of Beatrice and
Linda was confirmed by the deserter Lieutenant V , who also
advanced the comforting suggestion that an attack on the city would
divert the attention of the authorities from the prosecution of the
prisoners. Guy, in his reflections, thought not of defeat, but of
his purpose. He would fight his way to the side of her whom lie
loved, if it were only to lay his life down at her feet in fruitless
effort.
It was not yet day when the command to move was given. The
starlit night had given way to damp and fog a curtain of mist
hung around every object and concealed forms but a few feet distant.
The courses of the two divisions were to be divergent. Johnson's
was to enter the city at the head of Soledad street with the Veremendi
house as its objective point, while Milam's was to march down
Acequia street and occupy the residence of Senor Garza. Under
direction of experienced guides each column moved along its
appointed course in single file, the low hum of conversation dying
away to silence as the light of dawn struggled through the veil of
mist and disclosed the straggling outskirts of the town. The picket
had been eluded by a detour to the right, the too confident outpost
having become careless from the past inactivity of the besiegers.
GUY EAYMOND. 401
Johnson threw his men into platoon front, when considerable progress
had been made down the street, and it was only when in view of
the Veremendi house that an intimation of their discovery was
given by the discharge of his musket by a sentinel. Deaf Smith,
the chief guide of the division, returned the fire, wounding the
retreating soldier. This firing was the signal for the general alarm
of the garrison. Promiscuous firing began from several points, all
of which was more or less harmless until the enemy more definitely
located the Texans. The latter turned their attention to securing
cover and opening communication between the two columns of attack,
which resulted in the occupation of the Veremendi and Garza houses.
Johnson ordered Karnes to select a -squad of men and proceed to
pick loopholes in the walls, wherever practicable, and to open a
passage to the roof of the building, for the purpose of driving the
enemy from the tops of the adjacent houses. Karnes marshalled the
members of his mess for the purpose, and they were soon at work
with a will. Milam's division was similarly engaged a short block
away, and thus the first day passed. The next day was spent in
skirmish firing from the tops of buildings, through holes cut in the
parapets, while the force under Milam succeeded in extending the
line about fifty yards to the westward, by occupying a house in
advance of Garza's. The morning of the third day, the seventh of
December, found the assailants in strong position, but fatigued from
ceaseless activity. The object was to gain possession of the houses
fronting the north side of Main plaza, and about noon Karnes vol-
unteered to effect an entrance into the only intervening building,
which stood alone across the street and some yards further down.
For this work he selected the men who had accompanied him on
the late raid, with Mr. Trigg and Guy as recruits. Armed with a
crowbar, Karnes advanced at the head of his party. A fusilade
greeted them from the wall, while a battery of the enemy sent a
storm of shot up the narrow street. Two of the daring party were
cut clown, while their leader was dealing fierce blows upon the oaken
door. The stout timber creaked and groaned then yielded and
swung upon its hinges. The men rushed in, but behind them lay
the prostrate forms of Mr. Trigg and Jones. Guy gave one glance,
then bounding to the street, he lifted his friend and bore him into
the house. Nathan Eoach followed Guy's example, and wrapping his
long arms about the body of the East Indian, rescued him from the
leaden storm that raged around him. Over the door, through which
an entrance had been effected at such cost, was a dim sign, upon
which was written "Nbtario." A company of about thirty men fol-
402 GUY RAYMOND.
lowed Karnes to hold possession. With these came Ruiz, who had
helped to guide Milam's column. He saw with much regret Guy's
grief at the fall of his old friend, and suggested that the wounded
men be taken into the next room, away from the crowd, to have
their wounds examined and dressed. The door was fastened, but
yielded to the crowbar. Inside was a scene which startled them.
On the floor, in a state of semi-decomposition, was a human form.
Euiz ejaculated:
'The notary!"
'You knew him?" asked Guy.
saw him killed and by that scoundrel Halfen, who betrayed
'He must be removed before we can occupy the room," suggested
Hamilton.
"Here, men, take this body out; there is a rear apartment back
of this. Lay it there for the present."
Ruiz's order was obeyed.
Mr. Trigg and Jones were tenderly moved into the office and made
as comfortable as possible. No surgeon was present, but willing
hands bared, then bandaged their wounds. Guy sat by his old friend,
who seemed to be in great pain and manifested a disinclination to be
talked to, after he had once announced that he must be fatally hurt.
Jones was more communicative, and also claimed to be mortalb
wounded.
'"Mr. Trigg is suffering so much I would give a great deal
a little chloroform to ease him," said Guy sorrowfully.
"That reminds me that the notary was a sort of doctor," s*
Ruiz. "Let us see what he's got in this chest."
So saying Manuel tried the chest, but finding it locked, went out
and in a very short time returned with the key, having found it in
the pocket of the dead owner. The contents; of the chest were in
good order, everything being methodically arranged. Papers, plainly
endorsed, were tied in packages in the deep tray, separated by
divisions forming compartments. Lifting the tray, Ruiz gave an
exclamation- of satisfaction as a number of phials showed themselves
in a miniature chest extending across one end of the larger box.
Guy assisted his friend in examining the labels of the phials and dis-
covered one with chloroform legibly traced on its paper. After the
anesthetic was administered to both of the sufferers, Ruiz recounted
to Guy the scenes he witnessed on two occasions between the Creole
and the late notary, the last one culminating in the murder. Guy be-
came interested at the mention of the mysterious paper which aj
GUY RAYMOND. 403
peared to have been the bone of contention between the murderer and
his victim, and proposed to Manuel to jointly inspect the contents of
the tray in the hopes of discovering it. A cessation in the firing
having inaugurated an involuntary truce, the moment appeared pro-
pitious for the search.
Karnes had been summoned to the rear to participate in a hastily
called council of war, and the men, save a detail, engaged in pick-
ing loop holes in the walls, were at ease in the adjoining apartment.
Among the first packages glanced over was one endorsed "Papers of
Manoel Canastadomiento." Guy read the name of many letters and
remarked that it was Portuguese. The collection appeared to be doc-
uments pertaining to the notarial office, or the property of parties
for whom the deceased had acted as attorney or agent. Finally Ruiz
read an endorsement "Private papers" on a package which he handed
to Guy. The latter loosed the tape which secured it, and found per-
haps a dozen papers of questionable meaning, and appearing to be mem-
orandums. The last one consisted of two separate papers fastened
together. One was a diagram, which at once absorbed the searcher's
attention. From this he glanced at its attached companion. His
interest increased as his eye ran down the liquid lines, which began :
Along the outer coast you'll see
Little circles one two three,
While other circles in plain view
Are numbered only one and two.
the riddle unfolded itself in the progress of the rhyme, Guy's
heightened, and at its conclusion, he mentally concluded that
the paper which caused the murder of the notary was in his hands.
He signified as much to Manuel, as he replaced the memorandums in
the package and deposited the rhyme and diagram in the breast pocket
of his coat.
During the afternoon the Texans gained two or more advanced
positions on their right, and during the night succeeded in occupying
the ^"avarro house, which commanded the northwestern corner of
Main plaza and the northeastern exit of the plaza de Armas. The
new position was calculated to harass the enemy's force stationed at
the foot of Soledad street, and to lessen the effectiveness of his fire
on the Texan left in the Veremendi house and the notary's office.
Guy's attention in the meantime was given almost exclusively to his
stricken friend, who before the nightfall, was resting as easy as his
wound and circumstances would permit. With darkness, besiegers
and besieged turned their efforts to the strengthening of their re-
Lb
:
404 GUY RAYMOND.
spective positions for the morrow's work. Yet the occasional di
charge of a nrnsket indicated the activity of the garrison or the spirit
of some individual soldier who, despite the reverses of his side, wishe
to manifest his unabated defiance.
In Guy's musings, induced by his watching, he never once doubte
the victorious outcome of the attack, but he could not banish a certain
dread, that danger menaced the persons of Beatrice and Linda.
The certainty of defeat in the last moment when it should be ap-
parent that the city must fall before Texan valor, might be seized as
the opportunity for vengeance to be wreaked upon the heads of the
women who had plotted for his escape. The thought wrought upon
him until the picture of Mexican revenge rose before his mind and
seemed to materialize into a positive realization.
He was relieved when Ruiz entered in his brisk, earnest way and
said:
"What are you dreaming about ? Is there any change ?"
"Very nearly dreaming, Manuel * Both are sleeping. The power
of the narcotic is still unbroken."
"I came to suggest that we go on the roof. The boys have cut a
hole big enough to pass through and tomorrow we can pop those fel-
lows who man that infernal battery from the parapet."
"Fll go with you. I need something to drive away a horrid
thought."
"A horrid thought!"
"Yes, a mental picture of Mexican vengeance vengeance up
Beatrice upon Linda."
"A possibility in case of
"A probability in the imminence of defeat."
"Come away and banish the thought. Tomorrow will settle it."
"Settle it! Yes, settle it; upon the way it will be settled muc
depends. Manuel lead the way. Fll go with you to the roof."
In the apartment to the rear a scaffold had been erected sufficient!}
high to enable a worker to reach the flat roof above. Between the
ponderous timbers which supported the stone roof, a hole had been
made sufficient for the passage of a large man. In the gloom the
aperture could not have been discovered, but a tallow dip stuck upon
the highest point of the approach disclosed the space that marked a
patch of the black empyrean. Ruiz mounted first and Guy fol-
lowing, the two soon trod the slightly inclined flags above.
The chill of the night air sent a tremor through their frame:
Along the southern parapet the shadowy forms of a half dozen of the
Texans were visible, their whispered words greeting the ear
GUY RAYMOND. 405
guarded undertones, typical of the caution necessitated by the pres-
ence of danger.
"Let us sit here for a moment," said Ruiz. "Here above the
window through which I witnessed the assassination of the notary."
"That Halfen must be a villain of the first water."
"Undoubtedly," replied Ruiz.
The friends relapsed into silence during the next few moments.
The ragged clouds scudded before the north wind, veiling ever and
anon the silver horn of the young moon low sinking in the west and
converting the heavens into ever changing patches of siderial beauty.
Guy, full of his last trouble, wondered where away in the dark city
were the fair prisoners, and chafed at the thought that he could not
go at once to their rescue.
"Ruiz, where can thev be confined?"
"The ladies?"
"Who else?"
"I know not, amigo. I wish I did. Perhaps at the home of
Beatrice, a guard keeping them in durance."
"I fear not," said Guy, dejectedly.
"Who calls?" asked Ruiz, looking over the wall into the back
enclosure. "I thought I heard someone call my name."
"I, myself, heard a voice," said Guy.
"Who's there?" demanded Ruiz, in a louder tone.
"Yo, amigo; Miguel."
"Miguel?"
"Si, senor; mozo de Don Juan."
"That's lucky," said Ruiz. "We'll hear from the ladies."
"How knew you that Ruiz was here?" asked Guy, puzzled that the
giant should have discovered his companion's presence.
"I heard his voice and knew it; the same as T know that you are
Senor Raymond."
"A wonderful ear your's," said Guy, bending over the wall, "but
what of your mistress ; is she yet a prisoner ?''
"Si, senor, y tambien la Senorita Linda."
"Where are they confined?"
"They have been removed to the house of Boriito at the carcel,
in the room of the Senorita Linda."
"Are they in danger ?"
"So says my master, who is in hiding to avoid arrest, and that
is why I am here. An attack by your men on the jail early in the
morning may save them. There is talk of shooting them at the last
moment if the Texans gain the city."
406 GUY EAYMOND.
"My presentiment, Manuel," said Guy, rising from the parape
excitedly.
"It was the wave of sympathy flowing between congenial souls."
"Let's descend and admit Miguel. By heaven-, something mu
be done and tonight. Miguel! Await us. Kuiz and I will let you
et
=
Guy was the first down and soon had the faithful Miguel in con-
sultation.
"Miguel," he said earnestly, "tell me of Beatrice."
"The senorita knows her danger, senor."
"Why did you seek us?"
"To aid me in her rescue."
"Have you a plan?"
"None, senor. Time flies too swiftly to plan."
"We'll plan as we go, Miguel, and rely on our manhood to achieve
success."
"Your's is to lead, senor ; Miguel will follow, faithful and strong."
"Here is Euiz, and excited. What is it, Manuel?"
"Jose is without, with a message from the padre."
"Father Ignacio?"
"The worst is to be feared. Our success has enraged the officers
of the garrison and there is no time to lose. The cowards would wreak
vengeance upon those who sympathize with us, even upon women."
"This from Father Ignacio !" said Guy, half aside.
"Then then Beatrice ! Oh, Beatrice ! Manuel, will you throw
your valor in the scale against this intended wrong? A few brave
hearts may rescue from their very nest the virtuous prey upon which
these carrion crows have fastened."
"Senor, I am with you to the death. Let us find Karnes and
decide our course. There will be no lack of volunteers."
"Come, Miguel/-' said Guy, following Euiz out. "Come, your
mistress and Linda shall pass sentence on their judges."
CHAPTEE LV.
"M-a-la for-tuna ! Little peace has there been for Bonito in
the last few days. Euined by robbery, harassed by suspicion; I was
miserable enough before my child was charged with crime. Linda
a prisoner! The fact seems more like a horrible dream than the
truth it is. I left her in tears, but they were shed for me. She
bears bravely up, like her friend, the wonderful Beatrice. Both
are heroines. Here comes the priest. He, too, will say, like Linda,
GUY EAMOND. 407
that my bad luck all comes from my neglect of church duties. ^Tis
true, the monte pio has no bad luck and is often at confession."
Here Father Ignacio entered, interrupting the soliloquy of the
jailer, who had been slowly walking to and fro in the court of the
CM reel under the light which showed dimly from above his doorway.
"Ha ! Bonito ; all alone and troubled ?"
"Until you came, mi padre, yet not alone, for hard thoughts were
niv companions. Troubled? Yes, I have seen no peace for days."
"Cheer up, hijo, troubles go with time, and time is swift of wing."
"But I am growing old, and the same swift wings are bearing me to
the grave."
"For which you should be in readiness. It is long since you con-
fessed, hijo, and confession is fruitful of grace, and grace brings
strength to bear ills and inclination to turn troubles to benefits.
Who suiters here with a proper spirit will lessen, the term of pro-
bation in purgatory."
"What mortal not a priest or a holy nun suffers with this spirit ?"
"Among the women, many ; there are a few among the men."
"The monte pio, for instance."
es, the monte pio. He is often at his duties."
is conscience spurs him. He must go often to escape for-
getting the number of his exactions."
"You are envious, hijo."
"Only of his luck. No one robes the monte pio, altho' he robs
the public."
"That is 'his affair and the public's. 'Have you heard the latest
news?"
"'News?"
"'About the prisoners."
"Linda?"
"And Beatrice."
"I am from them but a moment since; their bravery is remark-
able."
"They will need it all, for they have been condemned."
"Condemned?"
"By the thing they call a military court."
"Their sentence?"
"To be shot."
"Women?"
"Tlio decision was that for treason in the presence of the enemy
the law knows no extenuation on account of sex."
'Oh, Linda! Nina! It cannot be, mi padre. Let them shoot
408 GUY KAYMOND.
Bonito ' then bethinking himself of the vault and its precious
contents, he said aside : "No, if I am killed I lose those bags of gold,
and the secret will die with me. No, Bonito must live; live to guard
and still better hide the treasure."
"Poor fellow, he loves his daughter, and the prospect of her fate
sorely affects him," were Father Ignacio's half uttered words.
"Remember, hijo, that there are yet hopes that these jewels may
be saved."
"Jewels!" said Bonito, suddenly recalled to the other's presence.
"There's not a jewel in the bags."
"Jewels to their parents," continued the priest, not perceiving
the jailer's mistake. "Don Juan worships his daughter."
"Oh, Linda! the prisoners mean you?"
"Who else? Of these we were speaking. Bonito, your mind
wanders. Bear up, hijo. Perhaps succor may come from these
daring Texans who are now not many varas away. Miguel, the faith-
ful mozo, and Jose have gone with a message to Ruiz and Senor
Raymond, who "
"El pajarro, the cause of all my late troubles !" interrupted Bonito.
"A brave youth and full of resources," argued the priest.
"True, and a friend of the spirits, who have given him the secret
of passing through a hole that would stop a mouse."
"That is nonsense, hijo ; but he is fearless and loves Beatrice and
admires Linda "
"Both are crazy for him."
"And when he learns their danger I am sure his chivalrous nature
will plan a rescue. Already the Texans have gained the northwes-
tern side of the plaza, and a bold sortie might be made before the
morrow. The sentence of the court has been ordered to be carried
out tonight, lest the victims escape through the triumph of the
enemy. I hate to confess it, hijo, but the cruelty and indecency of
our military almost places me on the side of the rebels."
"It is all one to Bonito; the government plunders through pres-
timos, and the rebels will ransack you for pesos."
"Go in, hijo, and tell the ladies that I will see them to give them
comfort in this sad hour."
"You may enter; a priest's cassock is his pass. The sentii
in the hall."
Father Ignacio entered the hall.
"He goes to console them. Little use, if they are to be shot
Who pities Bonito for his loss? Who will cry if by chance the new
hiding place be discovered and he loses all? It is better to be dead
GUY RAYMOND. 409
than to live without money; and to live in dread of its loss is harder
to bear than poverty."
Father Ignacio found the prisoners in Linda's room.
They little dreamed of the dreadful order which had emanated
from their judges who had tried them without their presence or a
word in their defense through even a pretended representation. On
suspicion with complicity with Ruiz in the late raid, and of their aid
in the escape of the American spy, the two fairest daughters of Boxnr
were to be cruelly executed. The threatened capture of the town
within the next few hours gave rise to the determination to have the
sentence carried out at once. The good father did not enlighten
them as to their intended fate, but chose rather to enliven their
spirits by his conversation, hoping that the coming moments might
develop something to bar the dreaded eventuality.
"How are you getting along, my children ?"
"Quite well, father," replied Beatrice. "Linda has dried her
tears. My eyes have yet to be moistened, while my heart is l)nm>
and my confidence supreme. We are so glad to see you."
"These are terrible times. The rebels are in the heart of the town,
and the garrison is powerless to oust them. Has the firing alarmed
you."
"It has made me nervous," said Linda.
"It frets me to think how powerless I am to help whip the cowards
who war upon women," said Beatrice.
"I can hardly blame you, hija, for the army seems to have de-
veloped into a body of barbarians. They have become brutalized
by revolutions."
"They have fallen from the plane of civilization through mis-
cegnation. A mongrel race have few, if any, of the instincts of
honor," said Beatrice, through whose veins coursed the pure blood of
Castile.
"I cannot quite agree with you, hija. The causes of race deteriora-
tion are complex. The governing causes are radical. With Mexicans
it is not a question of retrogression, but rather one of advancement.
The infusion of Spanish blood was not a benefit to the Aztec with-
out a guarantee of an individualism, which alone can develop char-
acter, intelligence and worthy citizenship. Mexico is a country of
classes created by unjust though legalized social adjustments, tending
to foster arrogance on the one hand and widespread ignorance on the
other. It is a mock republic which breeds a few land owners and
millions of peons. Land nationalization must be the remedy for
the absence of healthy individualism, while a liberal system of edu-
410 GUY RAYMOND.
cation under the auspices of our Holy church will secure a high
standard of morality and enlightenment."
"You agree with Senor Raymond in regard to your first remedy.
He regards the private ownership of land as immoral, believing that
it belongs to the people for use, and that the great value which some
locations attain through the presence of population should benefit
society, and not be gobbled up by speculators. His ideas about
education differ from yours. He believes that religious supervision
should not be tolerated."
"Senor Raymond is very bright, but he is young yet," said the
priest.
A noise at the outer door here interrupted the conversation. Its
opening was followed by the entrance of an officer in full uniform ;
then three others filed in and took places slightly in the rear of the
first. Father Tgnacio rose, but the ladies kept their seats. Linda's
nervous glance soon fell to the floor, while Beatrice gave the in-
truders a look which blended defiance with contempt.
The officer who first entered spoke :
"These are the prisoners, Beatrice Navarro and Linda, the daughter
of the jailer, are they not?"
"These are the ladies you have named," said Father Ignacio.
"The prisoners will stand and hear the sentence of the court,*'
said the officer.
"Sentence of the court!" exclaimed Beatrice. "A sentence with-
out a trial ?"
"The trial has been held and you have been convicted of high
crimes."
"A sample of Mexican military justice, and worthy of the bar-
barism which you represent," said Beatrice, excitedly.
"Stand up, senoritas, and take your medicine. A pretty pair to
be sacrificed, I must say, but the law must be executed. Stand up."
"I recognize only the authority of force, and defy that when rep-
resented by the minions of tyranny," replied the courageous girl.
"Let them remain seated, captain, and hear the sentence," said
one of the other officers.
"Listen to the decree of the court," said the captain.
"lie it known that the court appointed by his excellency, General
, for the purpose of trying the prisoners Beatrice Navarro
and Linda, the daughter of the jailer, charged with having ^iven aid
to the rebels and with having assisted in the e-c-ape of one Guv Ray-
mond from tin- carcel of Bexar. have, upon ample and indisputable
testimony, found the said prisoners guilty of the char-vs as stated.
GUY RAYMOND. ^11
The court, therefore, decrees that the said prisoners shall suffer the
full penalty of the law provided for the punishment of the offenses
named. It is, therefore, ordered that the said Beatrice Navarre and
the said Linda be instantly executed by shooting, and for this purpose
they shall be immediately turned over to the provost guard."
Linda fainted before the conclusion of the reading, while Beatrice,
still defiant, went to her assistance. While efforts were being made
to resuscitate the insensible girl, a guard was waiting outside to con-
vey her and her sympathizing companion to the place of execution
on the plaza.
In order to gain time, Father Ignacio claimed that an oppor-
tunity be given the condemned to utilize his priestly offices.
For this purpose twenty minutes was grudgingly accorded, and
all withdrew save the priest and the prisoners. The former lost no
time in communicating his hopes that a rescue would be attempted,
and from the great peril that threatened them, he assured the ladies
that Guy and Manuel would make success assured by a little less than
superhuman effort and the full display of their irresistable courage.
The words of the father had a happier effect than could have been
produced by spiritual advice, and even Linda smiled as Beatrice, in
her ardor, compared the gallantry of her lover with the pusillanimity
of the average officer of the garrison.
The moments glided by. A rap at the door, followed by a voice,
warned the priest that the time had nearly expired, and that the
condemned must be ready.
It was a desperate moment.
Father Ignacio rose to his feet, and after calling to the guard
to announce that they would be ready in five minutes, he motioned
to the ladies to follow him. They made their way to the hall. Here
the sentinel would have been an obstacle, but the quick witted priest
went boldly up to him, and in a tone of superiority, said :
"The officer in front orders you to step outside the door into the
court until I hear the confessions of these poor condemned prisoners.
Let no one in to disturb us."
The soldier had a natural respect for the ghostly office of the
father, and the solemnity of the occasion, when two souls were to be
shriven in order to enter into the presence of their Maker, caused
him to have no doubt of the truth of the message from his superior.
He therefore did as he was ordered without hesitation.
Simultaneously with the exit of the sentinel, Bonito's head arose
from the opening to the vault, which had not been rearranged for
concealment since Miguel forcibly opened it. The jailer felt that
412 GUY KAYMOND.
his hoard was secure and would be, perhaps, more so if he was
thought to be indifferent about the knowledge of the vault's existence.
"Oh, mi padre! They would kill me! Already they are waiti
to lead us out to be shot," cried Linda, at the sight of her father.
"For Dios! No. It must not be. Eh, mi padre! Down wi
you in the vault; but the sentinel I forgot no he is not in the
hall. Then down with you."
As he said this Bonito motioned violently for them to descend.
The priest joined in the advice and assisted them down. A noise in
the court and an imprecation hastened their movements, and the
lounge was arranged by the deft hands of Bonito so as to hide the
opening. The noise without merged into an apparent scuffle. An
instant later it ceased ; the door opened and Guy, fully armed, sprang
through it, followed by a dozen men. Quickly and in as few words
as possible, the priest informed him of the situation. Guy put his
hand to his brow for a second, then decided.
It was an ordeal, but it must be met.
"Go," he said to Father Ignacio. "Go tell them that Bonito
and some friends snatched the prisoners from you and bore them to
the court."
"But, senor, if this is told them Bonito's life will answer for it."
"Hush, craven! Down you, too, into the vault with the women,
where you belong/
Bonito obeyed. f
As the priest left on his errand, Guy sprang back to the court and
reappeared a moment later.
"Hamilton, you and Perry watch me and strike when I strik
Let the other men be ready, and if the ball opens, they know what
they came for. Miguel, open that trap. Descend and reassure the
ladies. When I give the signal, bring them up."
The giant disappeared below with a grunt of sativsf action.
A howl of rage from the garden rent the air at this moment.
This, with the succeeding tramp of men in Linda's room, indicated
that the priest had told his story.
The door opened and the captain who had read the sentence of
the court, appeared.
He was caught in the strong grasp of Hamilton, while Guy de-
prived him of of his sabre. Perry slammed the door as the Mis-
sissippian thrust his prisoner into Bonito's room and placed a guard
over it. The capture was made so quickly that the enemy in the
room supposed the door had been shut by their man, so when the
next entered, he was treated to the same tactics. This continued
:
GUT RAYMOND. 413
until five captures had been effected. The sixth attempt miscarried
and the retreating soldier fired a shot into the door. Hamilton
was about to spring into the room when Guy held him back, saying :
"Not yet, Hamilton ; that shot of the enemy is the signal for Ruiz
and Karnes to act. If I mistake not, we will bag a room full of the
cowards. Stand from the door, for the bullets will be coming/'
The warning was none too soon. A volley was poured into the
oaken boards, splintering them well on the outside. Others followed,
but not a man was injured. According to programme, a general
fire was opened upon the garrison from the Texan positions. This
firing with the response from the Mexican artillery and small arms
was expected to drown the noise of the raid on the carcel. The crack
of the Texan rifles and reports of muskets filled the air, when Guy
ordered his men to follow him into the room immediately after a
strong volley had been poured into the door. With a yell sufficient
to appall a not over courageous foe, the men rushed into the rooin,
now containing about a score of the enemy. Guy brandished the cut-
lass, which had done so much execution the night of his escape,
while his men discharged their pieces at the bewildered enemy.
Ruiz's voice and Nathan's war whoop in the garden, as Guy's sup-
porting force dropped from the parapet and drove the Mexicans
into the building, called forth an answering cheer from those within,
succeeded by a combined outburst of enthusiasm as the terrified enemy
begged for quarter.
Guy hastened to the opening to the vault and gave a loud whistle.
In less than half a minute Beatrice was in his arms. Linda had
scarcely reached the level when Ruiz grasped her hand, and before
she realized it, he pressed his lips passionately to her cheek. Miguel
stooped over and pulled up Bonito, who was climbing the steps as
fast as a fat corporosity would permit.
"Es el pajarro ! Pajarro fuerte y bravo," said Bonito between
the short breaths induced by his exertion.
"Ruiz, put the men in motion the same route we came. I will
take Hamilton, Perry, Roach and Miguel with the ladies. Jose will
guide the advance under Karnes, while you bring up the rear. The
general fire will save us from observation."
"And the prisoners?"
"Lock the ragtag and bobtail in the cells. Here, Bonito, stir
around and do your duty; open the cells. The five in that room we
will take with us."
The prisoners locked in, the retreat began. At the exit to Carcel
street Jose was found walking his post. He had been placed here
27
414 GUY RAYMOND.
by the raiders, who had captured the Mexican guard, with orders
to personate the regular sentinel and protect the rear of the party.
He was now relieved and commissioned to guide the retreat. The
advance was in charge of Karnes. In the centre of the column
walked Guy with one of the rescued ladies on each arm and circled
by the chosen body guard. Ruiz brought up the rear, driving before
him the five prisoners who had been captured in such a novel manner
in the hall. The route lay along the south side of the main plaza
and necessitated a close brush by the door of Father Ignacio.. The
latter had hastened home after witnessing the triumph of his friends
in order to pray for their safe exit from further peril. He opened
his shutter as the tramp of feet was heard below, and giving the
sign of the benediction, he said so all could hear him :
"Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum."
Guy gratefully repeated the response which he had heard iterated
by the choir on the Sunday he first attended at mass in San Fernando :
"Et cum spiritu tuo."
"That sounds quite orthodox for an unbeliever," said Beatrice,
looking up into her lover's face.
"I remember the benediction as well as the response from my first
visit to the Cathedral/' replied Guy.
"It must have impressed you."
"Yes; it did, but not nearly as much as something I saw on that
occasion for the first time."
"And what was that?"
"Your dear features."
In reply Guy felt a tighter pressure of the fair hand upon his arm.
"The witches are sidin' with us, Perry," said Nathan, in a whis-
per to the boy.
"How you know ?" asked Perry.
"Didn't yer hear the croakin' from that dark winder, and this
feller Raymon' answerin' of 'em?" said the backwoodsman, in a
solemn tone.
"Was it, Mr. Hamilton ?" asked Perry, in a doubting way.
"Was it what?" asked Hamilton.
"A witch that Mr. Raymond was talking to ?"
"I might answer like an oracle, my boy, for he was talking just
now to one who has bewitched him ergo she must be a witch the
one on his right arnj."
"No, not her; Mr. Roach meant that witch in the window that
Mr. Raymond spoke to in some sort of talk. Was that a witch ?"
"Perry, witch is feminine, a female. Now, the voice you allude
GUY RAYMOND. 415
to was not that of a female ergo, if it belonged to the species
witch it must have been the voice of a wizard."
"Yer gettin' into worse mess, Perry, by askin' information from
him/' suggested Nathan.
"What is a species witch, Mr. Hamilton."
"By species I mean what you and Mr. Roach would term birds
of a feather a disquisition on species would involve an explanation
of the term genus, which would necessitate the employment of ter-
minologies that would involve you in a mental darkness blacker than
that which is at this moment so apparent to our physical sense."
"What'd I tell yer, Perry," said Roach, disgusted.
"Yer can't git nothin' from an ass but a bray."
"But what was the voice from the window, Mr. Hamilton, in
plain words?" asked Perry, still persistent.
"It was that priest we found at the jail. He was saying to some-
body these ladies, I suppose 'God's peace be with them.' ''
The strange procession now moved along in silence save the easy
tramp of caution or whispered words as comrades exchanged remarks
suggested by their raid. The darkness was propitious; the route
so well selected that the Texan flank was doubled without adventure,
and the gallant actors in the rescue found themselves safe within the
patriot lines.
CHAPTER LVI.
The morning after the rescue of Beatrice and Linda from the
impending danger of a barbarous execution, the military situation
in the city had reached a degree in the solution of the problem of its
capture which left no doubt in the minds of the aggressive forces
of the speedy success of their attack. The steady advance of the
Texan line under cover of the heavy walls of the stone buildings
and the increasing casualties resulting from the accurate aim of
their rifles had already disheartened the Mexican troops when the
daring descent upon the jail very nearly produced a feeling of demor-
alization.
It was, therefore, no great surprise to the parties on either side
when a vigorous fire from the Texans, in which the enemy's ar-
tillery on the plaza was silenced, was succeeded by a flag of truce
from the Mexican commander offering to capitulate. The succeeding
surrender with its terms belongs to the history of Texas. The
Mexican forces were paroled, their officers being accorded the honors
of war. So the Texans, after long waiting and with vastly reduced
forces, made themselves masters of the city of the Alamo. The
416 GUY KATMOND.
prize demanded a sacrifice, and with the victims perished a heroic
few, among whom was the gallant Milam, the spirit and the leader
of the assault. The fall of San Antonio, while it drove the enemy
from his last important hold north of the Eio Bravo, was not re-
garded by the population of the west as secure from a speedy re-
capture by the forces under the soldier president, Santa Anna. The
latter had been long preparing to invade the State, and had already
assembled a considerable force on the border, when he received the
news of the disaster to the Mexican arms.
Among the citizens of Bexar who knew what to expect from the
vengeance of the Mexican tyrant was Don Juan Navarro. He smiled
when told of the liberal terms granted to the captured garrison, for
he knew what Texans might expect when they chanced to come into
the power of the despot. That his views and statements were pro-
phetic, the subsequent massacres which stained the soil of Texas with
noble blood will tell, and these, the bloody climaxes of her struggle
for independence, will ever mar the record in glaring contrast with
the magnanimity of her veterans when, in the flush of victory at San
Jacinto, they declined to wreak a just vengenace upon their author.
Don Juan was a marked man. There was no excuse for colonists
to rebel; there was still less reason why Mexicans should give to
rebels aid and comfort. His daughter had only escaped execution.
He, therefore, reasoned that a recapture of Bexar meant death to
himself and child if they should remain to become the prey of the
barbarous instincts of the dictator.
The afternoon of the surrender, Don Juan was sitting in his
room ruminating upon the future, the subject just mentioned upper-
most in his mind, when Beatrice joined him.
"I was just thinking of you, my child. "
"I hope I am often in your thoughts, father/'
"You are ever there, but this time you are connected with a serious
question that has arisen and will give me no peace until I dispose of
it satisfactorily/'
"What can it be?" said Beatrice, flushing. "You said it
serious ?"
"Serious."
"What caused it to arise ?"
"Today's surrender."
"Well is that all ?*'
"No. The town's recapture."
"I see a recapture would moan renewed danger for us."
"Eenewed danger! Yes death."
GUY EAYMOND. 417
"But the Texans whipped them out of strong walls ; can they not
better keep them out?"
"It looks plausible, but these men are few; not organized; have
scarcely a government, and are so confident that they are sure to be-
come careless; they will thereby become ripe for plucking and Santa
Anna will pluck them."
"Why not go to their councils, father, and give your views? If
you will not, then post some one of them so as to avert this danger.
You will find some of them as intelligent and wise as they are brave
and chivalrous."
"Senor Kaymond, for instance."
Beatrice colored deeply.
"I confess that he was my ideal as I spoke. It was natural that
my twofold deliverer should fill the role, as I have found him to be
intelligent and wise."
"This is a digression, my child. The danger must be first planned
against. Then, if by wise counsels the young government should
be equal to the emergencies that war produces, all the better. I have
decided that you must go to New Orleans until the dangers of invasion
are past."
"To New Orleans P
"The best asylum I can think of."
"And sister?"
"She has a husband."
"And " Beatrice hesitated.
"And you have a lover, I suppose you were about to say."
"Oh, father !"
The daughter left the room.
In the notary's office the joy, produced by the news of the surrender
of the garrison, was mixed with the bitter of the final leavetaking
which death exacts from those whose lives have been intertwined
through the congenialities which mark character, or the interests
which become developed by intercourse. The faces of those who
were grouped around the pallet of Mr. Trigg wore the sad expression
which comes unbidden in the presence of dissolution. Guy sat near
his pillow, holding his hand, while Perry, full of sorrow, sat op-
posite. Jones, the other wounded messmate, had passed away during
the night, and Karnes was absent on duty. Hamilton stood near
the window, giving a view of the section of the river, out of which
he gazed with an aimless stare. Nathan had stretched himself upon
the notary's chest, his expression more stoical than sad.
"How long is it since the message was sent to Father Ignacio?"
asked Guy.
418 GUY RAYMOND.
"About ten minutes/' replied Perry.
"It seemed to me much longer/'
"He won't rally again, so the priest need not come," said Ham-
ilton, turning from the window.
"He might/' suggested Guy, "and as he asked for a priest, I am
anxious that he be gratified, if he again becomes conscious."
"I want no priest around me when I shuffle off this mortal coil,"
said Hamilton.
"If you believed as Mr. Trigg, however, you would give much for
the presence of a priest. While I would not desire one, I have full
respect for the views of the religious. To gratify them is one of the
duties we owe to the dying. I would not object to have Father
Ignacio with me if I were about to cross the dark river, not, how-
ever, on account of his priestly office, but on the score of his purity
and benevolence. The presence of such men doubtless detracts from
the terrors supposed to be marshalled by the approach of death."
"Here he is now," said Perry.
Father Ignacio entered the apartment. He greeted the persons
present in his usual genial manner, and on a motion from Guy, took
the latter's seat by the side of the dying.
He felt the sufferer's pulse, then gave a inquiring glance at his
young friend.
"You know what to do, father, so go ahead and do it. This
my old friend you met at the mission after the fight."
"The same?"
"The same. If you want anything of us, you have only to coi
mand."
"The priest took out his book and turned to the prayers for tl
dying.
Guy stood at a respectful distance; Hamilton looked indifferent;
Nathan was agape with curiosity, while Perry appeared rather awed
by the devout look which earnest prayers lent to the features of the
ghostly pleader.
The tableau remained unchanged until, with a deep drawn sigh,
Mr. Trigg elevated his knees and opened his eyes. His look had the
expresson which mutely owns that hope has fled and seems to plead ;
for what, we will never know until our own sands of life are all but
spent. He tried to speak, but failed. He tried again and a few word?
escaped his lips, but half articulated. Guy went to his assistam
and putting his arm under the pillow, elevated his head.
The change was fortunate.
"This is the praste I saw at the mission ?" he asked slowly of Gi
irds
:
GUT EAYMOND. 419
"It is he. I sent for him."
"But never a word can I understand that he will be saying."
"I am here to interpret for you."
"But it is to confess, I want. Oh, for a little Irish praste, me
boy! It's dying I am."
Guy told Father Ignacio what Mr. Trigg's trouble was.
Tell him to say the Confiteor and to confess mentally and I will
give him absolution."
Guy interpreted.
"I don't like to, but a praste is a praste the world over, and if it's
right, it's right."
Mr. Trigg having consented to the mode of confession, Father
Ignacio motioned all to retire to the other side of the room.
In a few moments Mr. Trigg called for Guy.
"Me boy, I feel I'm sinking fast and I want to leave things in
ship-shape. Get my wallet, Perry; you know it; it's in the pocket
there; that's it. Me dear boy, I wanted to live to see you enjoy it,
but its God's will I shouldn't. The will is in there. It leaves all
to you and the sister. The thing that's a troubling of me is the
paper that was stole in the camp below. It might be a fortune, for the
old man set a great store on it. It was a drawin' of an island and a
ship and marks like rings and a bayou. It was a riddle like and
had to be made out by another paper that a Portuguese man in this
town was supposed to have and didn't know the value of it. The name
was there ; it's a long one the last was, and the first was Manoel."
Guys' interest arose as Mr. Trigg progressed, and when he had
finished, he said :
"Do not worry yourself at this sad time, my dear friend, with any
concern in my regard. Your faith teaches you that these moments
are sacred to religion, and your heart must feel that they are precious
to friendship stripped of all sordid motives, all ideas of gain and gold.
Besides, be content about this riddle, for I have botli papers; if not
the originals, they are certainly copies."
"I am proud to hear it. The will to tell you kept me up, and now
I feel I'm sinking. Is the father praying for me ?"
"He is. Be brave, my dear old friend ; Stella and I will ever keep
you green in our memories as our dear foster father."
"The dear child. The last bit of a present I sent her was the
medal of the Blessed Virgin with the beautiful bead work, that must
have come from the Indians. Tell her, me boy, to wear it and our
Good Mother will be good to her."
"A medal with a beautiful beadwork!" said Guy, aside. "It
makes me think of one I lost; the gift of Laoni; dear, brave Laoni."
420 GUY RAYMOND.
"Tell her I took the medal from a Mexican I captured.
"It's going I am ask him if he has given me absolution and
if he has God bless him. Tell him its Extreme Unction I want.
In my will is a gift to any church of our Holy religion. It will rest
with ye to bestow it; and for this praste's kindness be liberal with
him."
"Do not worry, my friend ; Father Ignacio is here for love of doing
good. I will see that your wishes are carried out."
"You're a fine boy, ye are. How dark it is ! Perry, is that you ?
I can just see you. You have done your duty always. Be good to
Perry, me boy. He's young to be in the army. It is so dark. The
riddle is in the pouch two papers the gunner told me there's
Lafitte and the rest show the Spanish colors."
The dying man's mind wandered on, his words becoming unin-
telligible until at last there remained only the long, heavy respiration
that precedes the end.
The watchers remained until the last gasp signalled the flight of
the spirit.
CHAPTER LVII.
"Are you well acquainted with the island ?"
"I know it as well as any lad knows the lanes and by-paths of his
native village."
"You have lived here long, then ?"
"I came with Lafitte. Here I served under him and am one
the useless things he left behind when he set sail from this bay for the
last time."
"Not altogether useless, for you can serve me by your informatioi
and earn a doubloon for your pains."
"I never object to pay if it be for honest work."
"Honest work? Then you have reformed since you quit the life
of a rover."
"A rover may be honest. I worked for wages; and then Lafitte
preyed only upon the thieving Spaniards."
"After all, it is but a matter of conscience, eh, Josef a ?"
This conversation occurred in a curious looking apartment which
had much the appearance of a ship's cabin, and evidently had been
constructed of a portion of one, with additions of material to make up
a land habitation with its conveniences for lights, ingress and egress,
etc. The parties participant were two men, one tall and slender
with very dark complexion, the other heavy set, of medium height
and grizzled with an age that must have attained the vicinage of three
-
le
.
fe
"
GUY KAYMOND. 421
score. The last party addressed was a woman, a description of whom
would have apprised the reader that she was the Senorita de la
Torre, if the dark man, who was no other than Ducio Half en, had
not called her Josef a. The admission of the other party disclosed
his character as well as his ideas of the morality of piracy when con-
fined to certain victims. Josefa did not deign a reply to Ducio's
inquiry, but sat immobile and upright on the opposite side of a table
occupied by the latter and his male companion, and upon which were
a few papers lying near an inkstand holding a goose-quill pen.
"Well, to business ! Your name is
"George."
"George?"
"George 'the pirate' is my name among the all sorts of Gal-
veston."
"Well, Mr. George, I sent for you to make some inquiries. There
is a bayou just out of town towards the gulf that makes a bend
so as to require two crossings to reach the beach ?"
"Unless you go clean around the bend."
"But in a straight course?"
"Then you'd have to cross twice."
"It enters the gulf, finally, between some sand hills."
"Its bound to if it enters it at all, as there's sand hills plum
to west end."
"Is this bayou deep?"
"It is shallow. A few holes may be over a man's head, but aside
from them, it varies from one to four feet deep."
"What crossings, if any, are over this bayou ?"
"Two rough bridges straight out from this wharf."
"You seem to be pretty well posted. Do you go often out that
way?"
"Almost every day a fishing."
"I am glad to hear that, for we expect to be here a few days, and
our object in asking you! about these things is to find out a good
place for a little sport in fishing/'
"You needn't pay a doubloon for that, for two months' seining
would not get your money back."
"We do not care for the money, as fortune has blessed us with a
plenty. Here is your fee, and if you allow us to go with you to-
morrow we will explore this bayou and try our luck at fishing."
"I will be at your service, sir."
"Well, then, in the morning as soon as you like we will await
your coming."
422 GUY KAYMOND.
"There is something more serious than fishing in his looks
questions/* said George, as he passed out the door and left his strange
patrons to themselves.
"Why not go alone in this business, Ducio ? Why engage a witm
to spy at every movement we make?"
"We will make merely a casual survey tomorrow morning; th(
by ourselves, we can follow the directions of the paper minutely., with
no eye tq> watch us."
"But mere suspicion often leads to dire results. Discovery of the
deepest laid plans is often predicated upon an apparently unimportant
circumstance."
"This fellow will think we are wealthy people who merely wish a
few hours sport."
"But the direction of the bayou and its bends and crossings have
little bearing on a chance desire to fish for sport. Then your earnest
question about the sand hills told of a reserve interest of deeper im-
port than a fishing tramp."
"Josefa, you have a philosophic bent that I could admire if it were
not so infernally pessimistic. This is a season for the bright side of
things. We are on the eve of fortune. We are going to find :
" ' An iron pot with an iron lid
Beneath the cross securely hid!
It
" 'Holds the treasure and the gold
Captured by a seaman bold
From the Spaniards' ample store
And buried here on Galvez shore/*
"It sounds nice enough," said Josef a, with a yawn.
When Ducio left San Antonio in company with Josefa they
elled with General Almonte and his escort. The general had left
just in time to escape capture by Euiz on the night Guy Eaymond
was liberated by the raiders. Ducio was afraid to make his way
through the country, in a direct course to the island, lest he should
be captured and detained for his actions in Bexar. He therefore
kept with Almonte's party until he reached the city of MatamoraF.
Here he found an American schooner bound for Galveston, and
took passage for himself and Josefa, arriving in the latter place the
day he was introduced, at the beginning of this chapter, in cons
tation with the pirate, George.
Early the next morning the latter made his appearance with
poles and tackle, ready for the fishing tramp. He found his patrons
the
'""-
GUT EAYMOND. 423
prepared to go, and the trio were soon on their way towards the gulf.
"You haven't heard the news, have you, sir?" said George, looking
around at Ducio, who was following arm in arm with Josefa.
"No. What may it be?" asked Ducio.
"The boys have taken San Antonio," replied their guide.
"The boys?"
"The Texans the colonists the "
"They have?"
"That's what."
"What day was it captured?"
"On the seventh."
"And this is the twelfth five days ago. Glad we were away,
eh, Josefa?"
"No difference to me," she replied. "I am growing indifferent
to everything."
"To me?"
"I said everything."
"True I am a person."
"Dogmatically so is the devil," thought Josefa.
"This sand is terrible to walk in," she complained, as the white,
yielding substance nearly covered her instep.
They reached the first bridge. Ducio surreptitiously drew forth
a paper from his pocket, and consulted it.
"There is the" bend turning towards the gulf," he said in an
undertone to his companion.
The bayou stretched away towards the northeast for a quarter
of a mile, widening into quite an expanse of shallow water, then
gradually narrowing to the eastward and southeastward it doubled
on its course, and again confronted the party, about four bund rod
yards distant, where the second bridge led to the sand hills, from
over whose tops the steady roar of I IIP surf was borne inland upon
the morning breeze.
"FTere is deep sand for you," said Ducio, giving Josefa a helping
hand.
At Dncio's suggestion the guide arranged their fishing tar-kip,
each of the party taking a pole. The latter remained on the left
hank, while the couple kept the right, next the gulf, and throwing
their lines in the stream occasionally, they ^raduallv made their
way to where its waters divided the sand hills and joined the ebb
and flow of the breakers. On the opposite bank, but two hundred
van!- a\vav. ihe more deliberate George was using a deal of patience,
and had hcen rewarded by ealehing several fine redfish. From under
424 GUY RAYMOND.
his broad-brimmed hat, he had noticed the movements of the sti
and mentally concluded that fishing was farthest from their thoughts.
"See here, Josef a," said Ducio, as he stood on the highest mound
of sand near him. "Here are the hills of sand five of them. Could
anything be plainer? One, two, three one and two."
"It does seem to correspond with that paper, but I cannot make
myself believe that there is anything in it."
"I will test it at all events once we come here alone."
"Don't say we for I hate this sand too badly to come again."
"Everything else is pleasant, but the walking. What a splendid
day, and what a grand sight is that roaring gulf, with its blue
expanse, as it sends those foam-crested lines of curling water in
untiring succession upon that lovely strand!"
"You sentimental !"
"I had a fellow named Hamilton in my mind's eye when I said
that. He was full of pedantic fanfaronade. No, not I sentiment
is for fools and women."
"And rascality for dark-skinned male bipeds like you. If you
are convinced that women deserve to be classed with fools, I warn
you that disaster may follow the conviction."
"I accept notice, Josefa, and except you from my sweeping
assertion."
"Come, Ducio, that fellow is near, and seems to be watching us.
If you f are satisfied with the appearance of things here, let us go
back and not spend any more time flourishing these stupid poles."
"Agreed; but we will walk the beach until we get opposite the
road to town. Let us inform Mr. George that we will dispense with
his services for the present."
The guide was accordingly dismissed, with an intimation that
he would be apprised, should his services be needed again, and the
pair walked with slow pace the faultless level of the beach, alternately
commenting upon its singular beauty, and debating the best method
of disposing of the treasure which they expected to find hidden
the hills on their left.
When evening came Ducio consoled himself that he had perfected
every arrangement for the successful removal of the treasure, should
he find it. Unknown to even Josefa, he had repaired to the locality
in the afternoon, and having run the lines indicated from hill to
hill, he had carefully marked the intersection so that he could find,
by the light of the moon, the spot he wished to examine. So great
was his curiosity, and his desire to possess it, he could scarcely
GUT EAYMOND. 425
refrain from running the risk of discovery, by at once commencing
to dig for the contents of the pot.
But one light wagon could be procured in the little town, and
this Ducio secured with difficulty, under the pretense of taking a
moonlight drive upon the beach.
When the tardy moon peeped from below the waters of the
gulf and had cast a line of flashing silver upon its bosom, Ducio,
with his nervy friend, Josef a, seated in the vehicle, was urging his
only half willing horse through deep sand beyond the second bridge.
"I came near forgetting it," said Ducio, stopping the animal and
jumping lightly out.
He ran back to the bridge and inserting his hand under the
first planks he drew out a short spade, and brought it to the wagon.
"''You see, I thought of everything," he said.
"A villain is never lost for resources."
" Thank you, Josef a. As you are to profit by this villainy, you
are therefore particeps criminis."
At last the wagon stopped, and Ducio leaping out, bade Josefa
remain seated until he hunted for his mark. He disappeared over
the first sandhill, and after several minutes returned to find Josefa
alarmed at an apparition.
'What was it?" he demanded.
*It looked like a human figure crawling on all fours. It went
over the sandhill next to the one you crossed."
"It must be an illusion."
Ducio, discovering nothing that would answer Josefa's description
of the creeping form, returned to the wagon, helped out his com-
panion, secured his spade and went to work.
He toiled for an hour before he could get a hole of any consid-
erable size to remain open. The dry sand would yield to the
universal claim of gravitation, and fill up almost as fast as he could
excavate. At lasft, learning the secret of correct* procedure, he
cleared away several feet of the dry sand around the center of the
objective point. The damp layer underneath allowed a narrower
hole to be dug and the sweating operator began to realize that he
was making some progress. Frequent rests had to be taken to
recover from the unusual .exertion. Josefa grew impatient as the
time began to grow into hours, and was about to express her con-
viction for the third or fourth time of the quixotic aspect of their
expedition, when the spade struck a hard substance that caused a
riiii:, as if from colliding metals. The digger could not restrain an
<\\',\c. illation of delight that rang strangely out upon the night air
426 GUY EAYMOND.
in almost the key of a shout. He dug more vigorously than ever,
and springing into the hole, he rapidly cleared away the sand with
his fingers. On he toiled, stimulated by intense excitement, with
Josefa watching from above, less demonstrative, but sharing with
her companion the strange emotions engendered by the occasion,
which seemed to promise a realization of a long fostered hope.
Having at length cleared the compact sand from around the pot,
he raised the lid and, inserting his hand, found a covering which
felt like oilcloth. This he tore away impatiently, when his fingers
came in contact with the contents which gave unmistakable evidence
of being cold, damp coins. A chuckle came to the lips of Ducio,
at the same moment that a gruff, but earnest voice addressed Josefa.
"I was passing on the beach and thought I heard a cry of distress
a few moments ago, and came to see what it meant."
Josefa gave a slight scream as her eyes caught sight of a heavy
form standing almost over her, and her first idea connected the new-
comer with the creeping figure of two or three hours before.
Ducio sprang- from the hole and confronted the man, while he
secretly damned himself for the indiscreet shout when the clink of
iron against steel gave evidence of treasure trove.
CHAPTEE LVIII.
In a cozy apartment overlooking from a second story elevation
a narrow street of a city, from which arose the din of rolling wheels
and the hum of metropolitan life, were two females. One, a lady,
attired in a morning wrapper, was before a mirror, passing a comb
through her hair, which fell in abundant tresses far below her
shoulders. The other, a girl in her teens, her development suggesting
a budding womanhood, stood at the casement overlooking the world
below. Through the slightly open sash floated in vagrant shreds
of vapor from the mass of fog whose isothermal veil enveloped the
city. Across the street the brick walls and iron-railed verandas of
the buildings met the view, extending to a corner, where a broad
avenue crossed at right angles. Over a door of the corner building,
in distinct letters to indicate the name of the thoroughfare, were
the words ff E,ue Royale." If one had peeped around the corner by
the same character of sign he would have been apprised of the fact
that the broad avenue was Canal street.
The two occupants of the cozy room had been silent for many
minutes, the lady proceeding with her toilet in the most careful
GUY EAYMOND. 42?
manner,, the girl watching with apparent interest, what could be
seen in the street, when the former suddenly remarked:
"Stella, I would not remain under that open sash. If you
intend to keep that position long you had better lower it. If you
would profit by your short holiday you should be careful not to take
cold. I declare! How dark it is getting! I certainly will have
to light the gas if it grows much darker. Whenever I've come to
New Orleans it has always been in a fog, but it is a dear old town.
for all that, and I am willing to forgive its damp and darkness
and fog and all other objectionable features, for its gaieties and
pleasures. When we got in last night it was raining torrents. J
do hope it will clear up now for a while. Dear mo! Til ligbt the
gas. Now, I can see myself. I suppose the Mother Superior was
half inclined to refuse to let you come out. She was cross as could
be the last time. I don't blame the poor things, though, for I
should be cross all the time if I had to be shut up in a nun IK TV,
with death only as a prospect for release. My hair is absolutely
rebellious this morning. By the way, Stella, when did you hear
from Guy?"
"Only once since I last wrote to you."
"Has he fully recovered from the wound he received at the
battle of San Jacinto?"
"He has; but it's healing was very slow. For months it was
painful and obstinate, and yielded only to an Indian remedy which
he had seen the Lipans use while he was a prisoner."
"When does the young gentleman propose to pay you a visit?
I think he must have lost his love for us. It would do him good
to catch one more glimpse of civilization."
"Auntie, Guy has had his hands full. All of his interests de-
manded that he should assist in gaining the independence of Texas,
and since the Mexicans have been driven out, his wound first-. Him
other matters, kept him from the undoubted pleasure of a visit to us."
"I cannot see what you could name under the head of other
matters."
"You forget, Aunty, that our parents' bodies had to be removed
to a more appropriate burial place, and the remains of Mr. Trigg,
our second father, he had placed beside them. In a country like
Texas this alone was a tedious undertaking."
"You are doubtless right, my child. It is a country of barbarous
Mexicans and savage Indians, and will never amount to much until
they are exterminated. By the way, you remember the Indian girl
that your uncle brought from Texas after the fight of the San Saba,
428 GUY EATMOND.
I believe he called it? Well, he left her with a family in Grand
Coteau, with means to pay for her schooling in the convent of that
place. She was placed in the convent, as you have doubtless heard,
and made wonderful progress, developing the greatest aptness in
every study. Of course, when your poor uncle died so suddenly
there was no provision made for her continuance at the convent,
and she was taken out by her guardian. The family, instead of
treating her as an equal, made her a servant, piling up menial duties
for her performance, until the girl left them, going they know not
where. When I first heard of her quitting the convent, I had a
notion to send for her, and make her a companion, just for the
novelty of the thing. It would have been a decided nouveaute."
"I do not think I can ever bear the sight of an Indian again.
The very name brings up the only horrible picture of my past,"
said Stella, with a shudder, as the scene on the banks of the Salado
rose in her mind.
"But this girl, it seems, has proven to be above the standard.
I am so sorry I did not write for her before she disappeared. See,
child, if my petticoat hangs. Now, pin my collar behind and we
will go down to the parlor. I am expecting a caller at ten and
have an appointment with my commission merchant at eleven. Oh,
me ! What a time a woman has with agents and merchants. Widow-
hood imposes a burden, my child; yet there is a charm about it
which maidens may never experience."
Not many blocks away from the Rue Royale, and towards the
levee, a low frame building, .occupying one corner of two inter-
secting streets, bore a sign upon its front which could be seen plainly
from the levee, and read:
"Sailors' Saloon and Cafe."
The place had a sort of inviting look for the characters who
frequented it. Under the wide awning which spanned the sidewalk
were armchairs and benches, upon which the off duty sailors and
workers of the levee could comfortably pose while they would spin
yarns or gossip about questions local or foreign. It was not a place
having claims to any great degree of respectability, nor was it yet
of the character of the lower dives of the Crescent City. The present
owner had run the establishment for several months, during which
time there was no lack of custom, and many a time the gossips of
the chairs and benches had discanted on the probable savings of
George, the proprietor. His other name was not known to the
frequenters, and hence the saloon was designated by them
"George's."
GUY RAYMOND. 429
George was an easy-going fellow, heavy-set and grizzly, and
judging from his dialect and manner, had followed the sea in former
years. He never would say much about his past life, except on
certain occasions when, half seas over, he would make reference to
his sailor's life and brag about being a subaltern under the noted
pirate of the gulf. These allusions, uttered rather incoherently,
were treated as the vaporings of a rum-befuddled brain, with perhaps
some possible tincture of truth for a groundwork. He might have
been a follower of Lafitte, and this was believed by some who knew
that George had paid a handsome sum in gold to get possession of
his present premises.
The afternoon of the day that Mrs. Raymond told Stella she had
an appointment with her merchant at eleven o'clock, the front of
George's cafe had a good complement of loungers, the weather
having faired and the temperature more suitable for the season
of early fall than the month of December. Gossip, for the nonce,
appeared to have been ignored, and a species of indolence prevailed
to make more impressive the puffs of curling smoke emitted from the
lips of the smokers.
The quiet of the cafe was destined to be disturbed from an
unexpected source. The attention of the corner was attracted by the
furious approach of a pair of powerful horses attached to an open
carriage, while the driver was making strenuous efforts to hold them
in. Beside him sat a lady, who was vainly attempting to assist her
companion, but all to no purpose. On thundered the mad team,
until it neared the corner. Along the street all eyes had been fixed
upon the carriage, but none dared to attempt to arrest the runaways.
Seated at the cafe was an individual of an appearance very
dissimilar from the rest of the assemblage, and who was evidently
unknown to them, as he had been the target for many a curious
look since he had taken a seat. He was long and lean and awkward,
and though elothed in decent enough apparel, it had either the
demerit of a had fit, or the misfortune to cover a form of ungainly
proportions and sharp angles.
When the flying horses were almost upon them, and the crowd
stood with bated breath, as if waiting the tragical end, the awkward
Granger sprang to the center of the street, and as the mad animals
came near abreast, by a bold and dexterous dash he seized the nearer
one by the head gear with both hands, and swinging with their' great
momentum he fastened himself upon its neck with the tenacity of
a, tiger. To rein their heads sharply together was the work of the
next moment, and within two hundred feet from where he first
430 GUT KAYMOND.
seized them, the panting animals came to a stand with their fearl
captor at their heads.
The man alighted from the vehicle,, and helping out his com-
panion, he accosted his rescuer:
"I owe you much, sir, for this, and am willing to reward you
by any amount in reason/'
The individual thus addressed replied with a tone akin to con-
tempt :
"You don't owe me a cent, sir, 'cept it a ben yer thanks, which
yer didn't give and which I don't want."
"Excuse me; I should have added thanks but in my excite-
ment "
"No use a mouthin' 'bout it now. Yer look mighty like a French
feller I saw in Texas, and if yer is as mean as him, yer wouldn't
pay no more than yer'd thank. I'm glad I saved the lady."
So saying the gallant fellow elbowed his way through the crowd
which now thronged the street, and made his way back to George's.
Here he was quite a hero and was compelled to enter the cafe in
order to escape the praises of the populace.
The fancied asylum soon proved no barrier to the public demon-
stration. George, with an eye to business, encouraged the entrance
of the crowd, and led off, himself, in a general treat, in honor of
the hero of the hour. The latter's remonstrances against the magni-
fication of a simple act into a heroic deed, were lost upon the mob,
if they were indeed audible, further than a phrase or two, above
the din and disorder of the cafe.
"You're a hero in spite of yourself, man. It's no use you'll
have to give in and treat the boys in turn," said George.
"Them that's makin' such a hurrah over nothin' is the fellers
to treat if they wants treatin.' I ain't got the money 'twould take
to satisfy this 'ere crowd."
"You won't lack the money, man, if you will draw on the fellow
whose life you've saved. They're a rich couple Half en and his
wife," said George.
"Halfen! Tho't I knowed him; tho' he don't 'pear as sneakin'
as he did in San Antone."
"Come, man, if you know him, all the better. Set 'em up/
urged the proprietor, "and I will take your order on Halfen
payment. I'll get the money."
"Stranger!" exclaimed the other emphatically. "Ef you don'i
want to rile me, jes' stop yer clatter on treatin.' Ye'll git no orders
GUY EAYMOND. 431
from me on nobody, and leastways on a feller that didn't thank me
fer savin' his wife's neck."
With this admonition, Nathan for it was he turned abruptly
from the counter and left the cafe.
He had only arrived in the city that morning, en route to his
home on the Arkansas, and his intention was to spend a few days
in the Southern metropolis, in the enjoyment of its sights, as a
kind of antithesis to the experiences of his arduous Texan campaign.
Nathan's steps led him along until without a consciousness of the
particular locality he found himself on the broad flags of Canal
street. The afternoon was pleasant, and the avenue was filled
with gaily dressed women, entering and leaving the shops and
stores now crowded with stocks of holiday goods. Nathan's awk-
ward figure passed in and out of throngs of grace and beauty, and
evoked many a smiling look as wonder and curiosity asserted them-
selves in a countenance on which the surroundings had implanted
an exaggerated verdancy.
He paused before a large show window and gazed intently upon
its artistically arranged contents. Stuffed representations of birds
and a few of the smaller wild animals were placed upon perches,
around the central figure, which was that of an Indian chief, in
feathers and war-paint. Nathan's eyes became rivited upon the
Indian. He studied the outlines and toggery with the eye of a
connoisseur, for if he was familiar with anything it was with Indian
character and dress. His first idea upon beholding the mute figure
was that a real chief was posing inside the glass, and he instinct-
ively gave the gutteral ejaculation of the Lipans, indicative of
surprise :
"Hish-to-wa!"
To his astonishment a soft voice at his elbow, in the same
dialect, replied:
"An Indian but not a Lipan."
On looking around, Nathan beheld a young woman, plainly
dressed, also contemplating the figure in the window. Her complexion
was dark almost as the average Indian. Her features were delicate
and regular and wore a placid, almost sad, expression. As the back-
woodsman turned, their eyes met, and his first words were:
"You a Lipan?"
"A Lipan? Yes. How did you learn their words?"
"I 1m v<! fit them on the Trinity, and they had me a pris'ner for
a year. What yer doin' in Orleans?"
"I am a prisoner'. I was captured when our village was burned
432 GUY EAYMOND.
and have been in the Convent at Grand Coteau. The sisters treated
me like their child, and taught me from the books of the white
people. The friend, who put me in the school, died and I had to
become a nun or leave. I chose to leave, and now I find myself in
this big city without friends, and my only hope is to find a place
where I can earn my bread."
"Yer/11 never do it. An Injun must hear the owl hoot and the
birds sing. Fm too much like yer sort, myself, to live in this here
town. There ain't no elbow room, and a feller is cooped up and
lost Amongst thousands. No, yer'll never do it, my girl."
"I may never be happy, but I must do something. On the prairies,
if there was no one else to call upon, I could bring down a deer or
an antelope. Here if one has not silver or gold she must work for
others to keep up life."
"I hain't much money, but I could spare you a trifle," said
Nathan generously.
"Thank you, sir. I am not begging,, and will be able to do
without assistance, I hope, until I find employment. I was told that
there was an intelligence office near, where one could find out the
people who want help."
"Mebbe so," said Nathan abstractedly, as he continued to gaze
in the window. , , ,
The woman eyed him curiously for a moment. He had fought
her people, he had said. His air was more natural than that pos-
sessed by the hurrying crowd, bent on some fixed purpose, who looked
neither to the right or left, heedless of her presence, and ignorant
of the emotions which swelled her bosom. He had been upon the
Trinity and probably in the valley of the Colorado. Possibly he
might know. She would find out. Nathan was about to turn away
when she asked :
"You have been upon the Trinity?"
"I have, for a fact."
"And in the valley of the Colorado?"
"There too."
"Did you know a youth just grown, fair as a lily, unless
the sun had browned his white skin, and
"Mebbe so," answered Nathan.
"His height about equalled yours, and when he walked, there
was a nobleness in his movements which suited well the bravery of
his heart."
"A fine feller that!? His height was like mine, and you say he
GUY RAYMOND. 433
walked like me?" said Nathan,, straightening up and taking a step
or two.
"He was a prisoner to our tribe, and I I saved his life when
they would have burned him. Oh, sir! Have you heard of such
a youth?"
"Didn't the chap have any name?"
"With us he was El Bravo; with his own people his name was
Guy."
"He got away from you?"
"He escaped with my assistance/'* 1
"There is a lot of the boys comin' over from the war, and
if I find out where yer youth is, I'll let yer know. I'll come to this
place Monday 'bout this time, ef yer kin meet me then."
"I will conic. Your name is?"
"Nathan Eoach. And yours?"
CHAPTER LIX.
len Beatrice's father determined to send her to New Orleans
to remain, rending the existence of danger from Mexican invasion
and the consequent capture of San Antonio, Guy felt keenly the
pain of prospective separation. He very sensibly concluded, however,
that it WHS a judicious resolve of Don Juan's, and when he bade
good-bye to his lady love lie placed in her hands a letter to Stella,
in which he urged his sister to become well acquainted and friendly
to one who was destined to be his wife. 'Boa-trice had promptly
presented this letter on her arrival in the Crescent City, and became
a frequent visitor to the convent where Stella was prosecuting her
studies. Occasionally the latter would spend the greater part of a
holiday with her future sister-in-law, so that in due time they
became intimate friends and very nearly confidants.
The morning after Mrs. Raymond had put in execution her
intention to call upon her agent, Stella was in her aunt's apart-
ment on Rue Royale, awaiting a promised call from Beatrice. Mrs.
Raymond had gotten through her toilet with less difficulty than
usual and, radiant in jewels and powder, had gone to call upon a
lady boarder in the same house in which she was stopping.
Stella was engaged in the inspection of a lot of ribbons and
, a contribution to her box from the castaway portion of her
aunt's finery. These she sorted and wrapped carefully in tissue
, placing them in the pretty box on the table with a care and
434: GUY RAYMOND.
exactitude that suggested her employment might be more to kill
time than adopted ex necesitate rei.
Beatrice's knock, and inquiry if she could enter, cut short her
further care of her ribbons, and the two were soon chatting in their
usual confidential manner.
"Guy writes that we may expect him any day from now until
New Year/ 7 said Beatrice, the pleasure of the announcement beaming
from her eyes.
"Why could he not have been more definite? It is just awful
not to know on what day to look for him/' said Stella half petu-
lantly.
"The schooners leave irregularly, and that? may be half the
reason."
"You are too ready to excuse him, Beatrice. Just think how
long it has been since I've seen him."
"Oh, Stella! I have engaged the services of a maid, and she
is to report for duty tomorrow, if not this afternoon. You should
see her. She is, I believe, a pure Indian, but much brighter than
those I have seen."
"Gracious! A pure Indian?"
"Oh! But she is nice and real pretty. Her features are perfect,
and she is as lady-like in her manner and tone as a society belle."
"You can make her a companion then. How did you find her?"
"At the intelligence office. She has just come from a convent.
Her patron who was educating her ceased to send her tuition, I
think she said, and she left the convent to seek employment. I
did not ask of her a full explanation. I am delighted with her."
"I congratulate you; but I hope brother won't fall in love with
the pretty maid."
"Why, Stella!"
"But she is such a paragon."
"Well if he so elects. I would not . inarry him without his
preference above all the world."
Beatrice grew a trifle serious as she said this, and turned her
gaze out the window. A tremor passed through her, with a name-
less emotion that could have arisen from the recall of a memory,
shadowed by sadness, or a prescience whose intuition weaved about
the future the mists of dread. Could the morning's contact with
Laoni have charged her being with the magnetism of a common
sympathy, to be awakened into activity by Stella's chance remark?
Perhaps for in the human organism, who would prescribe the bounds
of its sentient dualism?
GUY RAYMOND. 435
The entrance of Mrs. Raymond awakened Beatrice from her
dream-like mood, as well as avoided a return to the topic which had
caused it. She had met Guy's fiancee shortly after the latter's arrival
in New Orleans, the year previous, and on the several occasions of
her subsequent trips to the city. Her future niece had inspired her
with her beauty, but she secretly informed Stella that she could not
comprehend why her brother should choose a Mexican wife. Mrs.
Raymond's ideas of love and marriage were peculiar. With her,
wedded life was a woman's refuge after she became sated with what
she termed the pleasures of single life. Love but typified a sexual
instinct and, with well-balanced minds, always accommodated itself
to the environments of convenience and policy. As to Guy's par-
ticular case, the aunt had informed Stella that she had contem-
plated with much pleasure the selection of a mate for her handsome
brother. It was an assumed duty, but one that half way devolved
upon her when their parents were taken from them.
Whatever prevailed in Beatrice's manner or disposition to mark
a departure from conventional American characteristics appeared to
be a charm, in Stella's judgment, and she therefore defended her
brother's choice, whenever her aunt hinted at a mesalliance on the
score of Beatrice's nationality.
Mrs. Raymond's greeting was marked by an outward show of
affection, the caution with which she received Beatrice's kiss arising
simply from her concern lest the contact of the latter's lips should
spoil the artistic smoothness of her powder.
"Tell aunt Ida about your new maid, Beatrice," said Stella,
after the first flow of words from Mrs. Raymond had somewhat
abated.
"A new maid !"
"Or a companion," suggested Beatrice.
"She is an Indian," said Stella.
"You are having fun at my expense. You have been discussing
what I said yesterday about my poor brother's protege. I was in
earnest, however, and if I could find this Indian girl I should certainly
take her for a companion or maid, just as she would fit the one or the
other position."
"To tell the truth, my dear aunt, I did not for once recall
our conversation, and I wonder that I did not, since Beatrice has
discovered just such a girl, and from a convent."
"An Indian?"
"An Indian," said Beatrice, towards whom Mrs. Raymond had
looked for a reply.
ntv tliis
436 GUY RAYMOND.
"Where did you see her?"
"At an intelligence office on Conti street."
"And she is now ?"
"I left her there, she having promised to report for duty
afternoon or tomorrow."
"I must see this girl," said Mrs. Raymond, "and if she is my
brother's protege from the convent of Grand Coteau, you will have
to relinquish your claim to her, Beatrice, for I had decided to make
a search for this girl and add her to my train."
"But my contract with her?"
"Is null and void if she is the girl I mean."
"Verily, an arbitrary decision," said Beatrice half laughing, yet
half vexed.
"No; a principle of usage."
"Was there ever such a precedent, Aunt Ida?" queried Stella.
"I will not submit to interrogation. The decision is made and
I am going to see this girl instanter," said Mrs. Raymond, putting
on her bonnet. After a few glances in the mirror, she left the room
for the street.
"She is an imperious woman, Stella, this aunt of yours. She
combines within her the three great functions of government."
"As Guy would say, the principle of 'imperium in imperio'
underlies all of Aunt Ida's rulings."
* * * *
Nathan's mind was divided all the afternoon between the adven-
ture with the runaway team and his chance meeting with the Indian
girl at the show window. He had no use for the Indians, and his
first act on meeting one in the wilds of the west would be to bring
his rifle to his shoulder. Yet the squaw, as he mentally termed
Laoni, had excited his sympathy. She seemed to him out of place
in the busy city, with the tones of the Lipan dialect sounding
strangely among the brick and mortar of civilization. He had
scalped more than one squaw, but here was one arousing his sympathy
and interest. After all, he thought, was not this Lipan girl ahead
of the people to be seen around him?
She was natural, communicative and truthful. They were filled
with artifice, designing and hypocritical. Look at Halfen in Texas
a sneak and a spy; here an ungrateful villain who had not thanked
him. Reported rich, he had doubtless fleeced some one, or many,
and was revelling in stolen wealth. In a crude way Nathan p
nounced city civilization an iniquity. It occurred to him tha
n
GUY EAYMOND. 437
consisted of a class war on the individual who, multiplied, made
up the multitude. It was soulless and selfish and in conflict with
natural laws. The backwoodsman's mind was full of these reflections
when he encountered Ducio, in the convivial company of two or
three well dressed men.
The two at once recognized each other.
"You are the person who did me such a valuable service this
morning ?"
"I'm Nathan Eoach, and you orto know that, fur we messed
together long enough."
"Gentlemen," said Ducio, "this man Mr. Eoach is an oddity.
He actually saved my neck and prevented serious damage to my
horses and carriage today; and he will not take a cent in payment."
"See here, Mr. Halfen, yer said 'bout enough 'bout that. Ef I
want pay I kin ask it, an' I don't want yer money, fur I don't know
how yer made it. Ef yer want to pay me fur just stoppin' yer team,
111 tell yer how yer kin do it."
"How, Mr. Eoach?" asked Ducio with mock gravity.
"This way," said Nathan, beckoning him aside. There's an Injun
gal, a nice un, speaks 'Merican, ben ter school and wants a place."
"Well?"
"They say y'ere rich jest take the gal fur to help yer wife
a IK I yer do a kind deed, and pay me fur the trifle yer talk about."
"But where is the girl?"
"'Telligence Office she's jest gone thar."
"Well, my friend, you can depend upon my seeing this girl and
providing for her," said Ducio starting to rejoin his friends.
"See here !" said Nathan, calling after him. "It's me that'll be
the cause of yer gettin' her, and see that yer be just to her."
"All right! All right!" said Ducio with a grin.
"A peculiar fellow," he said as he turned to his companions.
M-V peculiar."
html -looking case."
devil in a fight," added Ducio, who thought of Concepcion.
Ducio caroused so late with his boon companions that he did
not visit the intelligence office on the afternoon he made the promise
to Nathan. The next day, however, so soon as he had recovered
from the effects of his dissipation, he ordered his carriage and drove
to several intelligence offices before he found the right one. The
proprietor informed him that an Indian girl was within, but he feared
lie was too late to secure her, as a lady had engaged her that morning.
Ducio, however, said he would speak with her, having promised to
438 GUY RAYMOND.
interest himself in her behalf, and alighting from the vehicl(
entered the place.
He was ushered into a small sitting room intended as the place
of interview between help and employers, before making a contract
for service. He waited here only a very short time, naturally specu-
lating on the probable appearance which the Indian girl would make.
A vision of a blanketed form with coarse black hair and scrawny
figure floated through his mind as he remembered the glimpses he
had caught of a procession of braves and squaws of some domesticated
tribe. He had little idea of what she should do in his employment,
if employ her he did at all. Ducio was not therefore prepared for
the entrance of the girl-like figure, full of ease and grace, that stood
hesitating as if to address him. He found himself only in half
voice as he inquired if she were the person about whom Nathan had
spoken to him.
"I am Laoni," she said in well articulated English.
"He did not tell your name. Are you Indian?"
"Lipan."
"You have been long away from your people?"
"Long? Yes, long, when I look at it in one way. If I should
count it in the months before I became a prisoner the time would
seem to have had the wings of the eagle."
"The time which had elapsed since the destruction of the village
about equalled the period of Guy's stay among the Indians, and this
comparison presented itself to the girl's mind as she reverted to the
months preceding her capture.
Ducio watched her every motion and noted the workings of her
handsome, expressive features in mute surprise. There was a delicious
softness in her tones that delighted, while only a pleasant accent
suggested the fact that the language was not her mother-tongue.
"He said you were without friends, and wished me to call hei
and offer you my aid."
"It was good of him."
"What can I do for you?"
"I was looking for a place in which to earn my living, and by a
good fortune a lady she said she was a Mexican came this morn-
ing and agreed to try me."
"A Mexican?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tall and slender?"
"Yes, sir."
"A brunette?"
Guy RAYMOND. 439
"A brunette?" she asked, as if not comprehending.
"Dark complexion."
"Oh, No! All are fair in the eyes of Laoni."
"My wife said she intended to look for a girl, and I thought
she might have gotten here before me and engaged you."
"She did not say she was a wife."
"Perhaps she did not," said Ducio, showing some nervousness.
"Ladies looking for help are usually married ladies. If you will
await my return, I will now go and find out if my wife has been
here. If she has engaged you, I will return and take you home in
my carriage."
Laoni having assented, he left the room.
Ducio's mind was in a state of perturbation not usual with him.
Laoni had made an impression upon him that caused a thousand
thoughts and plans to come and go. Thoughts and plans that boded
no good to their subject and which were the fit and natural outcome
of depraved and lecherous habits. Who could the Mexican lady be?
He remembered that his wife could not have had time to visit the
place since he left home. If he had gone the previous afternoon the
girl could have been secured. He drove aimlessly around the streets,
tb inking of the handsome Indian and his purpose to claim her for
himself.
A thought struck him.
He turned down Royale to Custom House street, drove several
blocks, then stopped before a handsome house with iron steps wind-
ing from the banquette to the second story. These he ascended and
used the knocker of the door. A portly woman received him, and
they retired to the parlor. Within an hour from the time Ducio left
the intelligence office, he was back again, and called for Laoni.
"It was as I expected/ 5 he said. "It was for my wife you were
engaged, and now I am here to take you home."
"Then she was a wife. She looked so young."
"No ; the lady was a friend of my wife, who is an invalid," replied
Ducio, with a ready lie.
"A little bag holds all I have, and I will be with you in a
moment," said Laoni.
As Ducio took a seat beside her in his equipage, he chuckled at
the success of his ruse.
A. few minutes and the smoking team drew up at the house on
Custom House street. The winding stairs were mounted, the same
portly woman answered the summons, and Ducio, after placing Laoni
in her charge, descended to the street and drove away.
440 GUY EAYMOND.
CHAPTEE LX.
Mrs. Raymond., having fallen into the congenial company oJ
several lady shoppers, passed in consequence such a pleasant time
that she was startled to find out how very late it was when she
parted with them,, and that she yet had to visit the intelligence office
to see her Indian maid. She was so impressed with the belief that
it was her late brother's protege whom Beatrice had engaged, she
did not experience the shadow of a doubt that she would return
home in triumph with her nouveaute.
The intelligence office was about to close for the day, when she
presented herself and stated her mission.
"My dear madam,, the girl was engaged this morning, and this
afternoon, during my absence for a time, the lady sent a carriage
for her."
The lady's disappointment was extreme. She could glean no
further information no description of carriage or of driver no
intimation of the direction taken by the vehicle. She fumed towards
home with a heavy heart. It had beat high on going in anticipation
of the pleasure in prospect of introducing a new feature in fash-
ionable life. Added to this was strong curiosity to behold the girl
on whom her brother had lavished praises, and who had made pro-
digious progress in the convent. Could Beatrice have so far defied
her as to send for this girl after her positive announcement of her
purpose in regard to the matter ? Sent for her in a carriage ! That
was done to hurry the girl away and avoid encountering her in the
street. This was Mexican impudence personified. Guy would rue
the day he took such an artful piece to his bosom. It was perhaps
fortunate that Beatrice had taken her departure from the Rue Royale
before the return of Mrs. Raymond from her fruitless visit to the
intelligence office. It provided time in which to compare notes and
reach conclusions before wrong impressions could precipitate a co
lision. Stella was watching for her aunt as she came in.
"Aunt Ida, did you see Beatrice's Indian maid?"
"I presume they are in company now. There is but a step fro
Mexican to Indian/' replied her aunt tartly.
"In company? Why, Aunty, Beatrice has just left here. She
supposed that you would return with the protege, and she remained
late that she might behold the new portion of your train."
JLU
;
GUY KAYMOND. 441
"It is well she left, for I am in no humor to listen to her
badinage."
"What has Beatrice done?"
"Knough. She has sent a carriage and taken off this girl to
outgeneral me."
"There is evidently some mistake, for she could not have done it
without my knowledge. We were together every moment since you
left, until just before you returned."
Mrs. Raymond cut the matter short by declining to hear any
more on the subject. Stella retired to her aunt's room, and drawing
a chair near the grate, whose cheery glow made her conscious of the
chill of the veranda, soon had her attention engrossed in a book.
Her aunt made her toilet for the evening, and repaired to the parlor,
all traces of the afternoon's annoyance banished from her features.
The home of Beatrice during her residence in the Crescent City
had been with a friend and distant relative of her father, who was
a prosperous wine merchant. His abode was a modest structure in
one of the most respectable portions of Esplanade street, an aristo-
cratic avenue, upon which some of the first Creole families of the
city lived in luxurious style. These formed a circle within which
few outsiders were permitted, and these had to possess the merit
of true worth and honorable calling to obtain recognition. Senor
Eivas, the distant relative who had received Beatrice, was among
this favored few. In fact, his wife was a Creole of the purest blood,
and his long life in the Creole city had eradicated whatever of the
Mexican had been in his disposition and manners. Beatrice had
visited the Rivas home on her return from school in Baltimore, and
was therefore not quite a stranger in the circle which radiated from
the Esplanade street center. To this home she bent her steps when
she left Stella awaiting her aunt's return from the intelligence office.
The latter's protracted stay had puzzled her. The Indian girl must
have refused to break her engagement. At all events, she determined
(< ascertain on the following morning if an Indian's promise was as
little to be depended upon as an Indian's gift. She did not really
care for the services of a maid, but the custom of the city made it
necessary to have one, and her latest appendage in that line had
transferred her allegiance to a husband. Mrs. Rivas was somewhat
Martled to learn of Beatrice's selection, and very much doubted if an
Indian girl could supply the place of her late maid.
It was not a restful pillow upon which Beatrice laid hen head
when she retired for the night. The dusky maiden filled her thoughts
so completely that sleep was banished until the cocks crowed lustily
All
:
442 GUY RAYMOND.
in the vicinity. Then a feverish sleep succeeded, filled with fanciful
visions and stranger dreams.
After a late breakfast she was on her way to Conti street. The
office was soon reached and there, on opposite benches, were candidates
for employment. A rapid glance informed her that her promised
maid was not present. She, however, was absent for the reason that
she had promised to enter her service, so Beatrice concluded, until
the polite proprietor enlightened her.
"The Indian girl I" he exclaimed. "Why, mademoiselle, she
creating quite a stir. So many inquiries! You would not believe,
mademoiselle."
"But I engaged her."
"So I believe, mademoiselle. You were the first."
"I was. Did anyone else come for her?"
"Anyone else ! First, after you, came a gentleman with a carriage,
and he tells the girl he is your husband, and you sent him for her.
She went with him at two o'clock. At five, came a lady of middle
age and she says she wants the Indian girl. When she is informed
of the facts, she was quite serious, mademoiselle, and if it were not
wrong to say of a lady, I would say that elle etait en colere, mad-
emoiselle."
"Then the girl has been taken away," said Beatrice, in a disap-
pointed tone.
"By the monsieur who said he was your husband."
"He was an impostor."
"Quite probable, mademoiselle."
"No traces as to who he is or where he lives ?"
"Not a clue. It was a misfortune that I was not here when
happened."
"I hope no harm will come to her," said Beatrice, half to herself.
The man shrugged his shoulders until they nearly reached his ears
to indicate his profound ignorance of what danger the girl might
be in.
Beatrice, realizing the uselessness of further inquiry and perplexed
to find this second obstacle thrown in the way of her design to secure
the services of the pretty Indian, turned her steps homeward. The
feeling which possessed her was akin to alarm when she speculated
upon the possibility that she had been spirited away by unfriendly
hands. She tried to reason that whatever experience awaited her,
it would be the result of her own folly; but still there remained a
feeling of disappointment akin to the regret ensuing from the sev-
erance of the tie existing between sympathetic personalities. She
tried to shake off the depression, but it possessed her until she reached
r hen it
GUY RAYMOND. 443
the apartments of Mrs. Raymond. The latter had slept upon her
own feelings in regard to Laoni's disappearance, and had become
convinced, from Stella's statements, that Beatrice had not been in-
strumental jn her abduction, if abducted she had been. She there-
fore received her nephew's fiancee in a far more docile mood than would
have characterized a similar reception the evening before. As it was,
their moods were in accord for mutual condolences, and their inten-
tions directed to a common purpose for the unravelling of a per-
plexing mystery.
Mrs. Raymond was actuated by a will which would not brook
the interposition of any obstacle. Beatrice had been captivated by a
novel personality which combined the naivete of the natural and
artless with the grace and demeanor of gentle training. These were
sufficient to interest the betrothed of Guy Raymond, in the girl who
had saved him from the stake, to say nothing of the mystic influence
which bent them to the common channel through which flowed their
all absorbing loves.
Beatrice paused with the sympathy of Stella and Mrs. Rivas.
The aunt having slept a second night upon her temporary defeat,
found herself in a mood to prosecute a vigorous search for the miss-
ing girl. Without communicating her purpose, she told Stella to
get ready to go out with her, and soon the two were directing their
steps to Canal street. They turned down the latter avenue, when
the aunt called a carriage. As the driver shut them inside, to his
inquiring glance, Mrs. Raymond replied :
"Place D'Armes."
They whirled away down Chartres and in due course arrived in
front of the Cathedral, with Place D'Armes on their right, and the
vehicle stopped beside the curb of the latter's sidewalk.
"Remain here, my dear, in the carriage. I will not be gone very
long. I have a little business to transact across the street/' said
Mrs. Raymond.
Having given instructions to her driver, the lady crossed the way
and, preceding past the church, entered a front office on the first floor
of the next building.
"I wish to see the chief of police," she said to a little man, with
a large goose-quill behind his ear, and who arose from his seat at a
desk when the lady entered. He replied with a polite inclination :
"The chief is engaged with a gentleman in the private office.
If madame will wait a moment he will be at leisure."
"Tell him at once that a lady is here on important business and
he must give her an immediate audience," she answered in a tone of
determination.
-i VCUIA:
face
444 GUY RAYMOND.
"I will report your message, madam," replied the scribe, o
and disappearing through a door, which presumably led into a private
office.
In the next minute he reappeared, and announced:
"The chief will see madam at once."
The smile of 'satisfaction had hardly disappeared from the
of the waiting lady before the same door opened and two men
appeared. One, tall and dark, passed on out into the street; the
other approached and greeted Mrs. Raymond. The first was Ducio
Halfen, the latter the chiei of police.
"Madame has important business?"
"Important to myself and another directly indirectly to the
public who suffer from every character of wrong."
"Will madame come to the point? I will be all attention."
Mrs. Raymond detailed her business, which, of course, was the
disappearance of Laoni, and an offer of a reward, provided she
could be located.
"No clue, except that she went with a. man in a carriage drawn
by two horses," repeated the chief. "No proof that she went against
her will?" he continued.
"But false pretenses were used to get her consent to go."
"Then she is held against her will, if she has become aware that
those pretenses were false."
"Quite correct."
"You have no claims on this Indian girl?"
"Well she was the protege of my brother, who is now dead, a
I am therefore her best friend."
"That amounts to something; but if a crime has been committ
that is sufficient for the police to know. The reward, of course, will
quicken matters."
After some additional consultation touching possible theories as
to the missing girl's whereabouts and the course of procedure to be
pursued, the lady took her departure and joined Stella at tl
carriage.
"Oh, Aunt Ida ! A most impertinent looking man almost stoppe<
as he passed the carriage, a short time after you entered that place,
and stared so impudently into my face that he fairly frightened
me. I will never forget his look. He was tall and dark, with jet
black hair and mustache, and such piercing eyes."
"The description of a fellow whom I found closeted with the
chief of police," said her aunt. "He looked like impudence personi-
fied."
AYMOND. 445
CHAPTER LXI.
Nathan was mindful of his promise made to Laoni that he would
return to the place where he had met her, and impart what news
he might be able to learn, from returning volunteers, of the youth
in whom she was so much interested. He watched for the arrival
of the expected vessel, and was present when she landed two days
later with a number of the ex-soldiers of Texas. It was with a
feeling of disappointment that his eye ran from face to face among
those who crowded the schooner's deck, without recognizing an
acquaintance. He was about to make an inquiry of one of the men
as to when the next vessel would sail from Galveston for New
Orleans, when a familiar voice hailed him.
"Hello, Roach ! What are you doing here ?"
"If it ain't Hamilton! I'm powerful glad to see yer."
"And I to see you, Nathan. Thought you were home in Rakensack
before this time."
"I ain't quite broke, and I concluded to see some of the sights
in Orleans. Who's with yer that I know?"
"I'm alone. There is none of our crowd."
"Where's Perry?"
"Home somewhere on the Brazos. I left Ruiz and Guy Ray-
mond on the island. They both had to go to San Antonio on
business."
"Guy Raymond Guy Raymond," repeated Nathan. "She said
Guy, and that's the pretty feller she spoke about. Was he oncet a
prisoner with the Injuns?"
"Guy Raymond? Yes for a year or two."
"Thafs him, then." said Nathan aside. "This Injun gal must
V ben his squaw. He's sum 'mong the women. He buckled onto
two that night in San Antone where we saved his bacon."
"When is Guy Raymond a-comin' over?" he asked of Hamilton.
'When he gets through his business in Bexar. You remember
the jailer Bonito, and his pretty daughter?"
"That's what I do."
"Well, Bonito turned up missing, it seems, and they found him
in a kind of a vault under the jail, dead as a mackerel. No one
knew anything about the vault except himself and two or three
otbrrp, nnrl he was dead a day or two before they found him. All
sorts of stories <rot out about baers of gold which the old fellow
had hid away down there, and a lot of men explored it and searched
29
446 GUY EAYMOND.
the place from end to end, but found nothing. Ruiz received the
news of all this by letter, and as he is engaged to the daughter, he
left at once for San Antonio, and Guy Raymond went with him."
"But what kept you on the island so long?"
"What I stayed there for was a secret, but I can tell you now.
It must, however, go no further. Old man Trigg had some treasure
buried on the island, and I, at Guy Raymond's request, stayed with
him to hunt it up. We had the description of the spot, and after
a day or two's prospecting we hit it. The pot which held the stuff
was there, but that was all, except a few coins left through careless-
ness or haste. There was a paper found, dropped by the fellow
who got away with the prize. This paper is safe and will be forth-
coming at the proper time."
"Was the old jailer murdered?"
"No sign of violence; so it was put up that he had a fit, or heart
disease. Where are you stopping, Nathan?"
"Promiscu'us like. I stop all over, with headquarters at George's
place."
"George's?" exclaimed Hamilton. "George is the name of the
fellow who disappeared about the same time that the stranger who
dropped that passport was on the island," continued Hamilton, aside.
"What kind of a looking fellow is this George, Nathan?"
"He's heavy built, chunky, grizzly, and stoops."
"The very description," thought Hamilton.
"Let us go to George's, Nathan; I'm curious to see this man."
"S'pose yer git settled fust. Yer ain't hardly touched Orleans
dirt yet, and I s'pose it'll be a few* days afore yer'll leave. Besides,
I've got to meet a friend, and it's nigh the time. George's isn't far,
and as we pass the second street I'll pint yer to it."
Nathan left Hamilton to join Laoni at the show window, accord-
ing to promise. He went with more satisfaction since the news
through the former would enable him to name the whereabouts
the youth in whom she seemed so much interested.
He found her waiting, but not aware of his approach until
almost touched her.
"This is good of you," she said.
"It war a promise," he replied.
"Some are careless of promises."
, "Right's right, with Nathan Roach."
"Have you anything is there any word from El Bravo?"
"That's his Injun name. What war his Christian name?"
"His people called him Guy."
GUY EAYMOND. 447
"I knowed a feller, as purty as a pink and brave as a war chief,
with an eye like you said, who was a prisoner a year or two, and fit
the greasers long side o' me from San Antone down, and his name
was Guy."
"Oh, it was he it must have been El Bravo. Was his voice soft
and mellow when he spoke words of peace and friendship, and firm
and strong when he pushed back a foe? El Bravo had the courage
of the war chief, with the tenderness of a maiden. I loved him with
all tlie abandon of a perfect confidence; yet when my heartstrings
were torn at parting, no embrace could have been purer than his;
no kiss holier than that which he pressed upon my lips."
"Yer thought sights of the feller. How about him?"
"He loved me but in his love El Bravo's self was lost. It was
a love that would lift me from the home of the Lipan, from the
(It-cam of a life, content with simple wants and rude customs of my
people, and teach me what he conceived to be the better principles
of the white men. But tell me of him you knew. His name was
Guy?"
"Guy Kaymond."
"It is he."
"He'll be here in a week's time."
"You will bring him to me?"
"Ef ' I'm here. Tell the truth, I'm gittin' short o' money but
lei nine see I'll stay fur yer, ef I have to roll cotton."
"Good friend he will repay you."
"Where yer stoppin'? Got a place?"
"I have a place but it is so strange. A place with nothing to
do. A home with the mistress gone. Everything I want is furnished
me. T cannot make a move outside the room I have, unless an eye
is on me. I was told the gentleman who hired me ordered that I
should not go out on the street. I remembered your promise to
meet me here, and I slipped out without the housekeeper seeing me.
I do not know how they will receive me when I go back."
"Is the place fur 'off ?"
"The third street down from this."
"I've another 'pintment, miss. Say six days from now, 'bout
this time I'll be here agin, and ef yer El Bravo is in Orleans he'll
l;c alonir-ido o' me."
"Good friend, how can I thank you? Depend upon it, if alive
and froo, Laoni will be here."
Xaihan strode away, wondering to himself how, despite all his
paHt antipathy for the race, he found himself all but in love with
an Indian girl.
448 GUY EAYMOND.
Laoni hurried back to the house, which seemed to her little less
than a prison, since she knew that she was watched, and that her
exit to the street was forbidden. It appeared to her, on reflection,
that it was better than wandering around the city. She could not
complain, since her wants were supplied without having, thus far,
done anything to deserve compensation. She had been told that
her occupation would be light or nominal until the return of the
mistress of the house, and that she must make herself at home in
the meantime. Considering her almost unbroken leisure, shecould
not account for the restriction which confined her to the house, or
the motive that instigated the surveillance. Her absence had doubt-
less been discovered, and she anticipated the question of the woman
who was denominated housekeeper, when that person should note
her return. Laoni was the soul of truth, not having yet been con-
taminated by that essential of civilization, a propensity to lie. When
the housekeeper demanded why she had disobeyed a positive order,
she replied that it was her intention to get permission to go, but
that on seeing no one about, and the time of her tryst with
Nathan almost at hand, she made haste to reach the place of meeting.
"It is a fine character you will have, meeting men that way. I
suppose he is a lover/'
"No, madam. It was on business."
"No love in it, then?"
"No yes it was about one I love I wished to hear."
"Caught you in a story. You tried to deny it."
"No not deny that I love. I denied loving the man I
With him I had an appointment to learn what he knew of one whom
I do love."
"Well, miss, if you want to please the gentleman who's paying
you, and keep his good will, you will stop meeting men on the street
for any purpose. Please him, and he will lavish money and every-
thing you like on you."
"He can only pay me my wages what I earn. More than that
I have no right to ask." .
"You can make the right to ask him everything. He is rich,
and a fine girl like you could make him her slave."
"I have nothing to do with the master. The mistress' maid
shielded by. the mistress' presence. If she is good I will prove her
worthy maid and gain her favor."
"The mistress has been long away. Suppose the news of hoi-
death should come, which could happen, seeing she was in wretched
health, and the master's love should Ml upon the maid? Stranger
things have happened. You could not well refuse his money and
GUY RAYMOND. 449
his heart; you who depend upon n. slender pay in this hard world."
"'He would be a false husband who would love again so soon,
and she a foolish maid who would trust to his false words."
The woman was called away and Laoiii retired to her room.
The latter apartment was one of the best in the house, being well
furnished with the comforts of sitting room and sleeping chamber.
This fact alone would have raised a suspicion in a less artless nature,
that her position was a pretense, and underlying it a scheme. The
man who brought her there had left her to herself, and, through
his alleged housekeeper, had held out the idea that the arrival of
the mistress of the house was to occur shortly.
The drift given to the conversation by the woman, on her return
from meeting Nathan, was doubtless dictated by him to bridge the
way to an interview. At any rate, the same afternoon the house-
keeper informed her that the master would be there, and she had
better put on her best looks. Laoni, filled with her own innocence,
anil occupied by the joyful expectation of soon beholding El Bravo,
little cared if the master came or went, or if the mistress returned,
or still lingered wherever she then sojourned as an invalid.
It was evening before Ducio made his appearance.
For many minutes IIP remained closeted with the housekeeper.
When their consultation was over he repaired to the next apart-
ment, which served as a sitting room, and sent for Laoni.
The latter made her appearance immediately.
"You wished to see me, sir?' 5
"I sent for you to give you sad news," he said, slowly and sadly.
Laoni looked startled; she thought at once of Guy.
"Sad news to me," he continued. "My poor wife, for whom I
wanted you as a companion, is dead. Her disease was too much for
her, and all remedies failed. While her death saddens me, I feel
relieved that her sufferings are ended."
"Then you will not want a maid," she said.
"No not for her but do not trouble yourself, my dear girl.
Remain here and make yourself comfortable until I see what I will
do. I may have use for your services, but if I do not, this will be
your home as long as you desire it, or until I can get you a place.
I am too sad to talk much, so you will please excuse me. The house-
keeper has been told to supply all your wants."
"I am very sorry for your loss, sir, and thankful for your kind-
.'' said Laoni, in a tone of mingled sorrow and gratitude.
As Ducio left the sitting room he met the housekeeper, and gave
her a sign to follow him.
450 GUY RAYMOND.
T ,
"I've gained an important point/' he said. "I have won
sympathy. With a woman that is the first step to gain her tV
yourself. Be cautions how you talk to her, and say nothing thi
will arouse a suspicion of the truth. Give her everything she wanl
and leave the wooing to me."
The woman watched the retreating form of the villain as he 1(
the hall for the street,, then turned away muttering:
"He is a precious scoundrel. It was this way I was betrayed.
First my sympathy then my confidence and then ah ! then
CHAPTER LXIL
In that portion of New Orleans below the Place D'Armes, and
which stretched away to its lower outskirts, where the narrow streets
were paved with cobblestones and the roofs of the old-fashioned
buildings were made picturesque by their coverings of red-hued pot-
tery, lived the poorer class of its population. Here dwelt the mixed
element, whose composite pedigrees, dating back many generations,
had been lost in the weld of indiscriminate admixture and ultimate
homogeneity. This caste however, presented the usual gradations of
social distinction. The more favored of fortune held aloof from the
plodding mass and aped the manners of the purer blooded aristoc-
racy of wealth. A middle class, composing the more numerous set,
and among whom were counted some few families of undoubted
respectability and pure lineage, but forced to a lower plane by the
weight of poverty, formed the next social strata. The lower extreme,
defining no certain boundary in its ascending tendency, extended to
the wall where slavery began.
From the darker side of this wall Half en did not owe his origin,
because his mother had been a freed woman before his birth. His
father, a man of influence, and at one time wealthy, had sent him
to an institution of learning, where he was admitted as a Creole of
respectable parentage. When Ducio returned from Texas he was
drawn to the location where his changed fortunes would be best
adapted to excite the envy or command the admiration of his own
element. He purchased a home not remote from the cottage where
he was born and where lived his mother, until her death. To this
home he brought Josef a, and here they passed the succeeding months
in that harmony of intercourse which can be depicted as character-
istic of willful yet discordant natures. Josef a had paid the penalty
of attaching her fortunes to the career of an unprincipled adventurer.
On the day of the runaway, when Nathan Roach exhibited his daring
feat, she was out for the first time in many days seeking a respite
GUY RAYMOND. 451
from an ever encroaching ailment which seemed to he draining the
fountain of her vitality. She discovered, when too late, the true
character of the step she had taken, and realizing the impossibility
of a retracement that could reunite broken ties or obliterate the
lapses from propriety, she determined to meet the future with the
stoicism of her peculiar disposition. She therefore settled down to
the condition imposed by the inevitable, just tolerating the man who
had ruined her and, who was not further lowered in her estimation
by the knowledge of the stain which rested upon his birth.
Her health was failing.
This she realized without even a self inquiry if it were to be
attributed to physical or mental causes, or to a combination of both.
The discovery of the treasure had enriched them beyond the fear
of ever wanting for the luxuries of life, but the fortune had failed
to bring happiness. Ducio was wild and dissipated and she saw but
little of him.
The next morning after Ducio's interview with Laoni he was
seated in his private room at home, apparently in a deep study over
some issue which he had been debating in his own mind. He arose
and paced the room a few moments, then going to an old-fashioned
press which stood in a recess to the left of the mantel, he produced
a vial, which he held up for inspection a moment, then shook it
while he reached for a goblet on a table. Into this he poured a
small quantity of the liquid from the vial, and afterwards diluted
it with water from a pitcher. He regarded the decoction for a while
as if to decide upon the proportion of its composites, then, as if to
assure himself, said aloud:
"That is larger than the addition I should have made, but the
prescription seems too slow to me. She's got a constitution like a
mule. It is a wonder she don't suspect me, but that's where I am
a successful villain. I am all tenderness when I am with her, and
have never done a thing to make her think that I am tired of her.
True, I am much away, but she has become used to that. I will
now go and give her this medicine, and trust its effect will be all
that is desired by me."
Leaving the room he crossed the hall and entered a door, which
he closed behind him. The atmosphere of the apartment seemed
purer with the rascal's exit the tick of the mantel clock came clearer
and lighter. Through the half open door of the press the vial from
which the potion was dropped into the goblet showed itself nearly
filled with its pinkish contents, while the broad-mouthed pitcher
<l stately and white upon the enameled waiter overlooking the-
down-turned goblH* by its side.
452 GUY RAYMOND.
Several minutes passed before Ducio returned.
"Another week will settle it," he said, as he rinsed the now empty
glass, and threw the water into the fireplace. "'Another week and
I can bring this strangely bewitching Indian here, if I manage to
keep down all suspicion of the part I am playing. Laoni ! A pretty
name. If I am not sentimental I am drifting that way. Strange,
too and about a squaw! Come, Ducio! For shame!"
"Now to George's," he continued, taking his hat. "The rascal
sent for me, and I suppose, as usual, to bleed me."
Hamilton and Nathan kept their appointment to meet at George's.
The Mississippian was much amused at his companion's story of the
interesting Indian and the details of their two interviews at the show
window. Nathan however suppressed that part of the conversation
with Laoni which referred to Guy Raymond, as he was rather tickled
by an intimation from Hamilton that the pretty squaw must be in
love with him. At George's they entered, and Hamilton called for
a luncheon with coffee. The proprietor, who was not present at first,
soon entered. He was keenly eyed by Hamilton, who mentally com-
pared him with the description he possessed.
"Roach, that's the man."
"What man?"
"The man who knows something about the missing pot of money
that belonged to Guy Raymond."
"Whew ! You don't say so."
"A little lower tone, Roach."
"Kin yer make him tell think?"
"That's to be seen. I've spotted him and that's one step.
"Yes but they say he's a slick un."
"Things naturally develop, Mr. Roach. Evolution does not stop
with material things; facts are evolved from theories; we assimilate
facts and make deductions. Now, by this process
"Look here, Hamilton, that's 'bout 'nuff o' that. What in thunder
yer talkin' 'bout? I sorter thought yer got cured of yer old d
temper."
."Roach, I'm dumb."
"No, man; talk sense. Yer knows how ef yer want to."
"We, Nathan we'll keep him spotted 'til Guy Raymond comes
"That's what we kin do. I've "promised to stay a few days ef I
have to roll cotton."
monev
op
ite
lei-
I
: I
GUY RAYMOND. 453
"No use of that, Roach. Draw on me. By the way, I have a
tip-top place, old boy. Come, Fll show it to you."
The two went out together.
Ducio called at George's in response to the latter's message, and
was received, as he usually was, in the room in rear of the saloon.
"What's the matter?" he asked of the ex-pirate.
"Nothing serious; but I wish to say that yesterday a lot of
fellows landed here from Texas, and one of them named Hamilton
came here with the man who stopped your team. He eyed me so
sharply and strangely that I concluded he knew something of my
past, and possibly he might have got wind of that operation of ours
in the sandhills."
"Hamilton ! There was such a man in a mess I was with in the
array. Describe him."
"Large, tall and handsome, hair brown and wavy, nose a little
raised in the middle."
"That's him."
"Any danger?"
"Think not; he knows the papers were stolen; but no one knows
who stole them."
"So you believe."
"So I know."
"Maybe so."
"Well, watch him, George, if he returns ; and if you find a chance,
sound him."
ff Your commands will be obeyed ; but see here, Halfen ; this is
work work for your benefit. I've done up two or three things for
you that have been thanky jobs."
"But, George, in this you would be implicated. If this fellow
has a clue, and his suspicions are excited by your presence, who is
interested and who is it that is giving the thing away ? See ?"
"T^at is true; but what have I to lose in comparison to you ? The
way things have been working lately I'd not be loser if you were flat
broke. See?"
"You say the fellow who stopped my horses was with him?"
"He was."
"Better win him over you know how to work it. If anything
turns up, send me word at once. I have something very important
to attend to and must be off. Au revoir."
Mrs. Raymond slept late the morning after her visit to the chief
of police. Her head had been set on finding the Indian girl more
454 GUY RAYMOND.
from a determination to not be outwitted than from any personal
consideration for the missing one. It was therefore among the sms
hours when she and Stella passed from consciousness and discussi<
into dreamland. Stella, who was first up in the morning, made
startling discovery. Burglars had evidently been in their apartment,
as the blinds on the veranda had been forced and the sash was up.
She arose and closed the blind, and took a glance around to see if
she could detect any evidences of their work. Her aunt was sleeping
soundly and she refrained from disturbing her until the desire to
communicate the probable robbery overcame her.
"Aunt Ida! Aunt Ida! Robbers have been in our room."
Mrs. Raymond sprang from her bed, having quickly compre-
hended what the words of her niece implied, for they placed in
jeopardy her valuable jewelry, laid away nightly in her wardrobe.
"Gracious, child ! How do you know ?"
"See, Aunt Ida the blinds three slats cut out and a piece of
glass from the sash."
"My God ! My diamonds !"
She sprang to her wardrobe. The case was there the diamonds
gone. The lady sank to a chair, put her head in her palms, and the
tears trickled through her fingers.
"What is missing, Aunty?"
"Oh, child ! All gone."
"You'll get them again, Aunty. Don't distress yourself."
"See if you have lost anything, my child."
" f l. Aunty? I have so little to lose. There's my box with
ribbons, and that medal Mr. Trigg sent to me, and a pin and
bracelet," said Stella, taking her box from a shelf and opening it.
She. paled a little as she raised her eyes from the open box
caught her aunt's look of inquiry.
"Aunty, they have robbed poor me, too. Pin a.nd bracelet
gone and the medal."
"The villains!" exclaimed her aunt.
"I wouldn't mind my loss, Aunty, if your diamonds had nc
been taken. Still, I felt so much attached to that pretty medal wil
its snowy beadwork."
"A fine police force they must have here! The chief him*
looks brimful of stupidity. I suppose this will necessitate nnotl
trip to Place D'Armes." '
When Ducio left George's he drove rapidly for several blocks
and halted his team in front of a shop which displayed the
GUY RAYMOND. 455
golden balls. He entered the place and greeted the sole occupant
with familiarity.
"Jacques, I'm in a quandary. I want to make a holiday present
to a girl a young woman a friend of mine, and I don't know what
in the world to select. Maybe yon can help me out."
"Well, monsieur, if you will tell me something about the tastes
of mademoiselle, I may be capable to decide for you/'
"Tastes ! I don't know much of her taste, but I will say this,
that she's an Indian but a devilish fine Indian a real lady and
pretty as a pink."
"But a dark pink, I believe, monsieur, if she is an Indian."
"Only a figure of speech, Jacques. I might have said pretty
as a lily and it would have been as applicable."
"Well, monsieur, I think I have the very article you should have
for the Indian lady. It is a medal, monsieur, and only brought in
this morning. I paid more than I should as it was so odd so
unique."
The man held up the article he was praising, and it was a
remarkably showy trinket of Indian manufacture, attached to a
si her medal.
"This might serve my purpose if the girl is a Catholic, and of
this f am ignorant."
"It is pretty enough for a Protestant, monsieur, and plenty cheap
to make you decide to buy it."
"'How much?"
"Three dollars, monsieur."
"A bargain, Jacques; I believe it is just the thing/'
"The price is an argument, monsieur, that often decides if a
present shall be suitable."
"With some, I grant you, mon ami; but with your humble servant
price would not be a bar 1o getting what I thought would serve my
purpose, in this instance, especially."
"Is there nothing else nothing 1 to suit madame? She was here
willi you some months ago, and much admired these diamonds."
"There is something else," replied Ducio, a? if noticing only
the first, part of the other's inquiry. "Here, Jacques, this preif.y
box, wilh the enameled top; it will do to hold the medal. Lay if
in so That tlie beadwork will cover the bottom with the medal dis-
played in the centre."
Ducio superintended 1lie arrangement of the medal in the box,
and when the whole had been neaily wrapped and secured with cord,
he took the package and re-entered his vehicle.
456 GUY EAYMOND.
Hamilton and Nathan Koach, in order to carry out their purpose
to discover the character of the connecting link between Ducio and
George, passed much of their time at the cafe kept by the latter.
George, in pursuit of Ducio's aim to learn what Hamilton might
know or suspect of his connection with the abstraction of the treasure
from the sandhills, made himself very agreeable to both the latter
and his backwoods friend. To Nathan he extended illimitable hos-
pitality under cover of admiration for his proven daring in the arrest
of the runaway team. To Hamilton he was attentive and courteously
polite. Nathan, honest and unsuspecting, received his advances with
good will, but insisted on paying for whatever he ordered in the
establishment. He refused also to be pumped, when the host so far
trenched upon the borders of the secret, confided by Hamilton, as
to make the step easy and natural that would pass the bounds that
guarded it. The oft repeated approach which the conversation made
in this direction when,, and only when, the participants were con-
fined to himself and the gracious host of the cafe, finally aroused
the usually dormant suspicions of the Arkansan, and he communi-
cated to Hamilton this peculiarity in George's intercourse with him-
self. Hamilton, with sharper wits than his friend, and less con-
scientious about making an account with the proprietor, already was
conscious of a score against him on the slate of the cafe. He resolved
to lead George on, step by step, to a tacit acknowledgment of Ducio's
perpetration of the robbery of the sandhills and, to succeed, he felt
the necessity of the ex-pirate's induction into more or less drunks
of a degree to induce loquacity and confidence. George, on his part,
had become convinced that Nathan's simplicity was assumed, and
that his abstemiousness was the guarded role of the detective. Ham-
iltons' looseness and convivial disposition deceived him completely,
and he soon began to feel perfectly at home with the Mississippian.
While this state of affairs was in existence at George's, other
events pertinent to this story were transpiring in the city. Mrs.
Kaymond had, as a matter of course, informed the police of the loss
of her diamonds and of the little trinkets of her niece. The wise
eyes of the detectives had inspected her rooms and viewed the cut
blinds and broken sash, and minute descriptions of the jewels and
articles taken had been noted. The disconsolate lady had offered
an appropriate reward, the detectives bowed and departed, and there,
for the time, the matter rested.
Beatrice was over to offer her sympathy as a solace for the dis-
tress occasioned by the losses of her friends. For the nonce the
robbery nearly, if not quite, obliterated the interest which, for the
day or two previous, had grown to large proportions, in the case of
GUY RAYMOND. 457
the Indian girl. The aunt was as ono bereaved for two or three days,
and refused to obey the recurring inclination to promenade Canal
street, or even to appear in evening dress, with powdered face and
artistically tinged cheeks, in the drawing rooms of the hotel. Stella
regretted her loss, but grieved for her aunt's perplexity.
How was it with Laoni ? One two three days passed since
Dueio elicited her sympathy by the relation of his wife's demise, and
evoked her gratitude by the offer of his friendship and patronage.
She experienced a quiet, happy mini, in which was contemplated a
satisfactory solution of hor difficulties. Tn this future Ducio assumed
a fraternal role, which placed him high upon the plane of disin-
terested huTnanity and softened to her Indian mind the harshness
which white civilization soomod to omit from beneath its cover of
selfishness and greorl. In the glamour of the picture, born of sus-
picion of right nnd truth in her environment, Laoni boheld the
roe-r-oant Ducio. hand in hand with El Bravo, the lost love of the
San Saba, pouring 1 out his heart's thanks for the care bestowed upon
the daughter of Walvnnpta. The dav thoughts merged into night
visions the reverie blended into the dream.
For the first time since El Bravo left her ;upon the mountain
side Laoni approached near the goal of a remembered happiness,
almost to the brink of a treasured joy. Around her were friendship
am' favor almost in reach the dearest of hopes. In this mood of
perfect content did Laoni remain until the return of him to whom
was due the charm of the lagging hours. She stood at the casement
surveying the metropolitan scene over which the partial season had
spread the mellowness of a balmy atmosphere. The genial tempera-
ture had nearly depopulated the dwellings, and brought to the streets
the populace, gay in manner and costumes. From the pavements
her eyes turned away across the piles of masonry, little heeding the
picture of turrets and towers, of chimneys and corners, of walls and
angles, in her deeper reflection upon the oddities of this white civi-
lization. There was so little of freedom in this pent-up life, devoted
to money getting, with so little of the natural in the aims and aspi-
rations of a purely artificial existence. Away out on the far away
San Saba her thought? took refuge as if to rest from the contem-
plation of the babel before her. The serene hills, the grand moun-
tains, the stretching plains, the green mottes and blue lines of timber
of her native place rose before her, and her heart yearned for the
home of her tribe. Was not its freedom and quiet superior to the
restraint and friction of the huddled masses of this great city? Bo-
wjrh her eyes a carnival of noiso and acting was in progress in
honor of the nativity of the God of the white people. Among the
458 GUY EAYMOND.
passers were men, reeling from the effects of liquor, whose shouts
added to the din of the explosion of small arms, torpedoes and fire-
crackers, while small boys jeered and stoned the inebriates. Laoni
thought of the first lessons she received from Guy upon the subject
of the Christian faith, suggested by the display of her medal. She
remembered how strange and incongruous sounded to her ears the
story of the incarnation and the redemption, and how El Bravo
doubted the supernatural origin of Jesus. Since then she had come
in contact with the saintly sisters of the convent at Grande Coteau,
and had been taught the faith by its ablest advocates. She loved her
teachers and respected their pious zeal, but her first impressions
refused to give place to an unseeing faith. She demanded reason
in the religion of her acceptance as her ideal of the Supreme Being
was the essence of reason as he was the spirit of truth and justice.
Her contact with Christian civilization had not been calculated to
excite her enthusiasm for its practical workings. She could not
acknowledge the claims of a system that confined its excellencies to
rules, rubrics and theories. To her mind Christianity, despite the
unreason of its claims to a divine origin, could be a useful factor in
the upbuilding of humanity only by its strict, practical application,
whereas, from her standpoint, it was an enthroned myth, for con-
sideration, mostly by females, one day in seven, and to become wholly
neglected and ignored the other six days. These might be the con-
clusions of her rude Lipan intellect, but they were irresistible,
refused to be laid aside.
Since Ducio's noble offer of his friendship, her heart had som
what softened, and she thought if Christians generally could be
actuated by their religion to carry out the spirit of the golden rule
as he had done, they could make many converts who would be rather
affected by the results of the faith, than by the justice of its claims
to have been organized above the clouds.
While Laoni was thus mentally constituting Ducio an ideal
Christian, she caught sight of that worthy crossing the street. Their
eyes met as she drew back, and he waved his hand pleasantly just
before he disappeared beneath the projecting veranda. She judged
that he was about to enter the house, and a presentiment warned
her that he would call for her.
Her impression was correct. The housekeeper some minutes later
appeared and stated that the master desired to see her and, if she
did not object, would see her in her room.
"It's a half sitting room anyhow," said tlio housekeeper,
you are such a tidy creature your room is always in order,' 3
JUil-
a
me-
GUY EAYMOND. 459
Laoni, seeing no impropriety in admitting her new friend to her
room, assented; and having no face powder or hair to arrange, or
cairiosity to gratify by glancing in the mirror, assented at once.
She was more at ease when Ducio entered than was the villain
himself, for in her artlessness she was purely optimistic, and in her
innocence suspected nothing but kindness from her avowed protector.
The talk began about the usual way, and on the one side about
everything but what was uppermost in his mind.
"You have not made up your mind what I shall do yet?" she
asked, after a pause in the conversation.
"Not exactly," he replied. "I've had you a great deal in my
thoughts, because I knew you would be lonesome up here with only
the housekeeper to see. I have kept in seclusion since my sad luck,
but as tomorrow will be Christmas, I thought it would be best to
shake off sadness and share in the current of joy that should only
be felt in this time when Christ proclaimed peace on earth and good
will to men. Besides it is not manly to grieve. Your warriors are
fine examples of the manly spirit. They look upon death with a
cool and calm philosophy which puts religion to the blush."
"Yet you are a Christian."
"I try to be."
"It seems that all try and few ever succeed."
"Pretty true. Did the convent convert you?"
"As a respecter for the institution yes. Some of the nuns are
pure and holy women. As to religion I am a Lipan still, at least,
in my unbelief."
"I have often wished that I were an Indian," said Ducio with
a sigh. "I am tired of this thing they call civilization. It is hypoc-
risy from beginning to end."
"Are you in earnest?" asked Laoni.
"In earnest? If I could fly from here tomorrow I would not
stop until I reached the lodges of a natural people, lifted above the
contamination which comes of chasing after money. If I could find
a tribe who would receive me and treat me like a brother, I would
pledge my life to its service."
"Oh!" thought Laoni. "If El Bravo had been of this mind."
"You will change," she said to him. "You are now affected by
the loss of your wife. A little time will bring back the contentment
you had before. You will stay with your own people."
"To tell you the honest truth, Laoni, I was never liappy with
my wife in fact, we were never congenial. For the sake of ap|><'ar-
ann's we kept up a semblance of harmony, and if I speak truthfully,
I will say that I am relieved that death has cut the tie which the
460 GUY RAYMOND.
policy of the church made it decline to sever. Laoni, I have never
loved but once, and then it was not my wife who roused the feeling."
"My poor friend, I am sorry for you. But the one you did love?
She never knew it, as you could not tell her while the wife was
living."
"Your are right. It has not been many days since I met this
love. I could not tell it to her for the woman who called me hus-
band still lingered. I crushed down the feeling until iny heart
fairly bled in the throes of my struggle to keep from speaking to
keep from throwing myself at her feet and confessing all."
"Poor man," said Laoni ; and then, putting her hand to her brow
as if to help her thoughts, she said aside: "This wild, true love!
How like the passion that fills my heart. Oh ! El Bravo !"
"Laoni, you pity me. If I should tell you of this woman if I
should own the truth trusting to your generous sympathy to not
hate me for the confession would you still pity me would you still
call me friend, and try to soothe my wounded heart?"
"Love is a holy feeling," she said. "Why should I hate you for
this confession? You come to me as a friend to ease your bosom
of a secret that weighs upon you. You have my sympathy. Why not
go to this woman, and if your love is honorable tell it in her ear.
Perhaps she will learn to love you if her heart is not another's."
"Your words are comforting. I have known her only since the
day I met you, Laoni. The hour I spoke to her was the hour you
first heard my voice. The woman I love is an Indian the mother
who bore her was the mother of Laoni and Laoni had never a sister."
"Is this the truth?"
"Aye, the truth," said Ducio, throwing himself beside her. "Laoni,
accept my love. It is the most costly gift I can offer you you who
are in the midst of an unsympathizing race of strangers without
other protection than mine. Think of it, Laoni think before you
answer."
"Think of it ? Think of my answer ? It would be useless thought.
My friend, if I were to think from now until the weight of years will
have brought me to the grave, what would be my answer if in my
troubled sleep every dream should be filled with this scene and the
memory of your words, thoughts and dreams alike would conjure the
presence of one to whom iny heart has long been given and the
answer would be the same as it must be now. My sympathy and my
friendship you have won without asking. I have no love to give."
"Then there is no hope for me?" said Ducio, rising and walkii
the floor.
"You have had my answer."
give.
liking
GUY "RAYMOND. hi i
"Does he love you?"
"You have no right to ask. It would be the same if lie did not
love me. If he loves another and is happy, I will' try to purge the
selfish from my love and be content. I would not boast of love
which would refuse to make sacrifice for the loved one."
"Laoni, I cannot be content with your answer, but will return
another time and press my suit. If you still decide that we cannot
be more than friends, then I will yield. In the meantime, let me
be your protector, and prove that I, too, can tear the selfish from
my love. I brought you this little token for a Christmas present. I
knew not of your views on religion, but as I brought it, I will leave
it, and trust you will find in it a pretty relic besides being partly
the handiwork of the Indians."
She took the box from him, thanked him, and placed it upon
the table.
Ducio took his departure with a look of disappointment, while
a sinister expression flashed from his dark eyes.
As soon as she was alone Laoni opened the pretty box containing
the gift. She raised the fine pink packing, and uttered a low cry
as she recognized the medal which had once rested upon her bosom.
She did not faint nor did she sink into a chair. Her eye glowed
with a fire that was kindled by the emotions of wonder, doubt and
conjecture.
The gift she had made to El Bravo! Could lie have arrived
in the city, and if so, how came he to part with the medal ? Mur-
dered and robbed, or simply robbed, and by whom? By this alleged
friend and protector? Perhaps perhaps not. A mystery? He was
doubtless yet in the house. She would go and demand an explana-
tion.. To this end she left her apartment in pursuit of Ducio.
He was not in the sitting room. The housekeeper's room was
empty, but Laoni heard voices on the back gallery immediately
under the latter apartment. This alone would not have made her
pause. The tone and the words which caught her cnr caused her
to approach still closer the window and listen. Ducio was talking.
a 'She is a sentimental fool. Imagine a squaw wilh sentiment!"
"Not much of a fool," said the housekeeper.
"True enough. I went in bold, but her manner made a coward
of me, and my tactics were changed to real love making. You should
have heard the stuff I spit out, and which she swallowed."
"But didn't digest."
"Not much. But I will bring this girl to her senses if I have
to drug her into it."
30
462 GUT RAYMOND.
"She ain't worth it, Ducio."
"Maybe not; but my dander is up and I mean to win. I will
come tomorrow and give her a last chance. Then she will be my
prisoner and my slave. She is unsuspecting now, and needs no
watching. I left her a bauble which I bought of Jacques, and which
will amuse her until I return."
Laoni was much surprised as well as alarmed by what she heard
fall from the lips of her supposed friend and protector. Her natural
step was to conceal the fact of her having overheard the conversation
just narrated, and she therefore hastened back to her room. Here
she considered the situation. A continued stay in the house which
in the earlier hours of the day had appeared to her so pleasant, and
had induced her to recant many of her mental strictures on the
worthiness of the Christian civilization, was now out of the question.
She stood aghast at the hypocrisy that could assume the role of
sentiment and earnestness, as did Ducio. She did not dream that
the worst features of social depravity could so successfully masque-
rade under the form of lofty sentiment.
She comprehended her clanger well, and in the thought of it
she ceased to speculate upon the presence of the medal. The latter
she placed upon her bosom; the handsome box was unceremoniously
pitched into the closet in the corner. Laoni had no definite plan
of escape, but calmly awaited night and a quiet house. She did
not dare to wait too late for fear of walking the dark streets alone.
Her little bag was packed, and nine o'clock found her under the
gas light of the nearest corner. Here she hesitated. Where should
she turn her steps to avoid the encounter of the roughs of civiliza-
tion? In all the wide world there were but two places in which
an undoubted welcome would be hers the village where she was
born the convent at Grande Coteau. The realization that the
danger she had escaped was greater far than any she had to dread
in the streets nerved her to proceed. She moved aimlessly on. At
length a thought suggested itself. Why not find the Convent of
the Sacred Heart in the city and appeal for protection? She would
a.sk direction from passers by. These she met, but they hurried on,
and were gone before the words could fall from her lips. One or
two, in less haste, presented appearances so forbidding that she
feared to confide to them her ignorance. At the next corner she
met a policeman. She knew him by his badge, and felt no hesi-
tation in accosting him and requesting to be directed to the Convent
of the Sacred Heart.
"It is far from this, madam. Are you acquainted with the city ?"
"No, sir, and I would like your advice and protection?"
GUY RAYMOND. 463
"That you shall have, madam, as long as you are in my beat,
but that will not find you the convent."
"Could you not show me the way I must go, and then I could
get other policemen to show me further on."
The officer was about to proffer some sort of advice, but sud-
denly stopped and requested Laoni to come nearer to the light. She
complied at once.
"I just wanted to see your face well, madam, for I did not
know but what I had seen you before. Come along with me and
I will show you the way and see that no harm comes to you."
Laoni was grateful for the offer, and expressing her thanks,
walked on by the side of the city's guardian.
CHAPTER LXIII.
hospitalities of the cafe, showered as they were upon the
susceptible Mississippian, had the effect of neutralizing his purpose
to bring out the criminal connection existing between the proprietor
and the guilty Ducio. Even Nathan in his simplicity saw the
tendency of matters, and in his quaint way urged upon his friend
the necessity for more prudence and less indulgence in the con-
vivialities of the place. Hamilton would argue that success depended
upon unrestrained intercourse and the consequent confidence it would
create in the mind of George that they were ordinary visitors and
patrons. Notwithstanding the quantum of truth contained in the
latter argument, Hamilton's actions and the gusto with which he
seemed to enjoy the hours passed in the resort in question indicated
that the beam was tipped by the weight of Nathan's assertion.
The night on which Laoni escaped from the house on Custom
House street, Hamilton and Nathan were as usual passing away the
evening at the cafe. The two were engaged at cards, each having
chosen a partner from among the habitues of the resort. There
were few others present besides their party, the proprietor and three
or four loungers. George had been busy behind his bar and was
for the moment leaning forward on his elbows regarding, in a
ratlier absiraeied manner, the four-handed game of euchre. His
attention was suddenly attracted by the entrance of a slight indi-
vidual, who came to a halt at the screen and beckoned to him.
<ieor<:e, having replied by a nod, leisurely passed from behind the
bar. and making a jocular remark to the card party? passed on out
to the front, where the newcomer awaited him.
"Well, what is it?" queried George.
464 GUY RAYMOND.
know
"The beeks are after me, and I've skipped them, hut they
my dives and I'm at my wit's end."
"What have you forked last, that they're so hot on your trail?"
"Didn't they tell ye?"
"Not a word."
"We trapped the diamonds, but we feared to sell them or
keep them."
"Oh! You were with Jem."
"That's it."
"Have you any of the boodle on you?"
"No more'n the ring."
"I've rigged a play on one of the fellers at the table within. Do
as I bid you and it will lay the hounds off the scent. Look see
that coat upon the peg. Fool around there a bit and drop the ring
in ihe pocket."
"But it's worth a pile."
"So's your liberty; now choose between it and the ring; to be
caught costs you both."
"Boss, you're right; here goes."
The fellow entered the room and a few moments later had dex-
terously deposited something in the pocket of a coat hanging upon
a peg not far from the table where sat the card players. This
accomplished the fellow returned to the front where George awaited
him, with a paper in his hand, upon which he had hastily written
while the other was in the room.
"It's in the pocket what now ?"
"Here," said George, handing him the paper, "take this to t
station and see that some of the police get hold of it; but take ca
that they don't find out you brought it."
"Trust me for that," said the fellow.
"Be off now,, and don't blunder."
Perhaps an hour might have passed after George's messenger
had left, before any other arrival occurred at the cafe. The card
playing still continued, interrupted only by a call for cigars or
something to drink, as one or the other side was declared loser.
The arrival alluded to was a man of medium stature and ordinarily
dressed. He entered with an easy air and seated himself near the
front screen, A few moments later a second individual appeared
in the door, glanced around the place, accosted the first arrival,
and seating himself by his side, began a conversation in a low tone.
The time was within an hour of midnight when the card party
broke up and the players were about to disperse.
"Come, Hamilton, it's 'bout time we was goin'," said Nathan,
GUY EAYMOND. 465
who thought he saw indications in his friend's manner suggesting
an inclination to linger yet longer.
As Nathan spoke he took down the coat from the peg and leisurely
put it on.
"I'm ready, Nathe," said Hamilton. "Good night, George. We'll
give my friend from Arkansas and his partner a chance to revenge
themselves tomorrow night."
"Hold, gentlemen !" said one of the two men who had last arrived,
and who maintained their positions near the door.
"We are officers of the police," he continued, "and have the
best of reasons to suspect that some stolen property is concealed
upon one of this party. As you are doubtless all honest men, and
are not conscious of having any such articles on your persons, y >u
will not object to being searched."
"What kind of articles do you suspect us of having?" asked
Hamilton.
"Diamonds," replied the policeman. "Have you any such things
about you?"
"That's rich, eh Nathe? To suspect us of having diamonds!
Search away, Mr. Policeman, and welcome," said Hamilton.
"I never seen one in my life/' said Nathan, "though I hear'n
tell of 'em."
"I'll go through you first, then," said the officer. So saying he
ran his hand in one pocket, then in another, and drew forth a ring.
"Here is something," he said, and holding it up, the jewels
showed their value by their sparkling brilliancy.
"This answers the description, my friend, of what we are after.
You will have to go to the station and account for the possession
of this ring."
"How'n thunder did that git in my pocket?" exclaimed Nathan,
much astonished.
The officer smiled.
"There must be some mistake," said George, "for this man is
honest, I am certain."
"I'd like to see the feller what 'ud say the contrairy," said
Nathan.
"You will have to go with us to the station. Come along quietly
;iiid if you can explain things it will be all right. The looks of
I hi ngs are against you now, and we hope you will get out of it."
"Would yer go, Hamilton?"
ou will have to, Nathe."
[ave to! And me innercent? I've fit greater odds than two."
466 GUY EAYMOND.
"I will go with you, Nathan. Kesistance would only get y
into further trouble."
"Well, boss, I'll go; but see that yer don't run this thing in the
ground. Ef yer put that ring in my pocket, as I s'pects yer did,
fur to git me inter trouble, I'll live on yer trail until I git both
yer scalps."
The party filed out the door and proceeded down the street, t
prisoner between the two officers and Hamilton in the rear.
George looked after them and chuckled as he turned into his den.
"If he was on my trail, I turned" the tables on him. It was a
jolly thought of mine and he will have a hard time accounting for
the way that ring came to be in his pocket."
Nathan occupied the attention of his escort, while en route to
the police headquarters, with protestations of his innocence, inter-
larded with hints as to the danger which might accrue to any pne
affecting belief in his guilt.
"It's a put up job," he stated, and intimated that he would get
out of it if he had to fight out. Hamilton's frequent suggestions
that he had better reserve his remarks for utterance before the
proper tribunal, and not waste them upon his heedless captors, had
the effect of stimulating the prisoner's loquacity.
The next morning, before the opening of the police court, the
chief had ordered that the two prisoners who had been taken with
the articles stolen from the apartments of Mrs. Raymond be brought,
separately, to his private room to be interrogated. Laoni was first
introduced in obedience to the chief's order. Her face wore a
slightly troubled expression as she entered and turned her eyes from
the hard stare of the officer around the room, in half inquiry as to
why she had been brought there. The chief, after a few whispered
words to a lawyer-like looking personage at his side, addressed her :
"Young woman, how long have you been in the city?"
"Seven days," she replied.
"You are an Indian?"
"A Lipan."
"You have seen this before," he asked, holding up the m
taken from her by the policeman, who, under the pretense of escort-
ing her in the direction of the convent, had taken her to the station
as his prisoner.
"It is mine."
' k Uy what claim?"
"My father's gift."
"You brought it with you to the city?"
"No."
th
!
GUY EAYMOND. 467
"Has your father been in the city since you came to it?"
"No/'
''You will have to explain to make me understand you."
"It was a gift to me years ago. I gave it to one who was dearer
to me than myself. It can only he his or mine. How he parted
with it I know not. The person who put it in my hands in this
city can perhaps explain, where he got it. I do not claim it through
this person. The medal is mine, or it is his to whom I gave it."
"You refuse to tell where this person got it who, as you say,
put it into your hands in the last day or two?"
"I could not tell you because I do not know."
"Are you acquainted with a man by the name of Roach Nathan
Roach?"
"Yes; I have met him twice."
"Where?"
it the show window/'
lat show window?"
r here there is a figure of an Indian."
"On Canal street?"
Laoni shook her head.
"Didn't Nathan Roach give you this medal?"
"No."
"Who did, then?"
"The master he who employed me."
"His name?"
"I heard it, but it was so short the time I was there that I
cannot remember it."
"Why did you leave?"
"He was a bad, false man, and I could not stay."
"But you took his present."
"Because it was mine mine or- El Bravo's."
"Yours or whose?"
, "His to whom I entrusted it." ,
"All this is a very likely story," said the chief, giving a side look
and a meaning smile to his companion. "Young woman," he con-
tinued, "this medal is the property of a young lady of this city,
and was stolen only night before last from her sleeping room. You
will hnve to be kept a prisoner and answer before the police court,
which will commit you for theft unless you produce better evi-
dence of your innocence."
At a motion from the chief Laoni was conducted out by the
officer who had brought her to the room. The lawyer-like individual
looked over his glasses at the girl's retreating figure, and when she
468 GUY RAYMOND.
:ed in
was out of sight he turned towards the chief and remark(
measured tones: , ,
"A remarkable looking girl. A half-breed, evidently. Some of
these half-breeds are regular gypsies, and for them to steal is second
nature."
In a few moments the same officer reappeared with Nathan Roach.
The latter strode in awkwardly, in advance, and after a step
or two, hesitated and turned inquiringly towards his conductor. The
officer motioned him to proceed, and he took a position in front of
the chief and his companion.
While the chief wrote rapidly for a minute, the other eyed
Nathan through his glasses; then, as if not satisfied with the inspec-
tion, ho ducked his chin and contemplated the backwoodsman over
their rims.
Nathan returned the inspection with a stolid indifference.
The chief put down his pen and turned the writing over to the
other, with the remark in an undertone:
"That is about the substance of what she said."
Then, giving the newcomer his attention, he asked:
"Your name?"
"'Pears to me yer all orto know it by now, fur ef I've told it
oncet, I've told it a dozen times."
"You will have to answer, sir."
"Well see here, mister; I'd like to know who yer is. I'm 'rested
fur mithin/ and pulled 'round from piller to post, and it's my
right to know before who I'm brought and questioned."
"I am the chief of police, and as you have been arrested fol-
lowing stolen property in your possession, it is my duty to question
you as to how you came by it, so that if you are not the thief, you
may be able to give information that will lead us to find the really
guilty one."
"That's more sensible like. I ain't guilty of nuthin,' and ef
I knowed who put that ring in my pocket I'd not only let yer into
the secret, but I'd thrash the stuffin' outen him to boot, or my name
ain't Nathan Roach."
The chief wrote down his name.
"What did you do with the medal you had?"
"Never had none."
"Never saw this before?"
"Never did as I knows on."
"Do you know an Indian girl or woman named named let
see that paper, captain named Laoni ?"
GUY EAYMOND. 469
"I struck up with one of that name the other day."
"How often have you met her ?"
"Twicet."
"Where?"
"Canal street."
"What part of the street?"
"Blamed ef I know. It was by a store with a big winder that
had a Injun in it, and that's how we got acquainted. I was lookin'
and she was lookin' and I said somethin' in the Lipan talk to
myself when I spied the Injun in the winder, and the gal, she's
a Lipan, and she took me up right straight and, sir, we was a-talkin'
Lipan for an hour. She had a sweetheart in Texis, and I promised
to git news of him. We met oncet more after that, and was to
meet agin in six days."
"Did you not give this medal to the girl at your last meeting by
the show window?"
"Didnt't I tell yer I never seed it before?"
" Answer my question."
"Ef I never seed it before how'n thunder could I give it to any-
body? Peers to me yer simple minded to ask such questions."
The chief smiled.
"This girl said you gave her the medal."
never believe she said it."
[ave you any friends or acquaintances in the city who could
vouch for you ?"
"Only Tip Hamilton, and he has only been here five days and
I've been here seven."
The chief whispered to the captain to notice how well the prisoners
had made up their story as to their arrival in the city, times of meet-
ing, and so forth.
"But this goes against them," said the captain.
"So it does, but they have an object."
"They are part of a gypsy band, no doubt great thieves great
thieves !" said the captain.
"So you know no one in the city ?"
"There's the feller and his wife I kept from breakin' their necks
by stoppin' their bosses. But they don't know nuthin' 'bout me, and
ef the truth was known, care less, even ef I done 'em a favor."
"Give the name, anyway," said the chief. "He may return the
J';i\or by going on your bond."
"Halfen Dueio Halfen is the feller's name, and George the
ono that keeps the coffee house and saloon is . another name yer
470 GUY EAYMOND.
mought put down, although he ain't much of my stripe no more'n
t'other."
"Halfen's endorsement will not have much weight in the
of honesty," said the captain, dryly.
"But his money will in the scale of justice," said the chief.
CHAPTEE LXIV.
"Stella, I have to go to that hateful police court, and so have yo
Be ready, child; the summons said ten o'clock. I wish it had been
the bracelet or pin instead of the ring that they found. The very
cheapest thing was the first to come to light I mean your medal.
The girl must have been a fool to wear it openly. This dress is
good enough for a dirty court room. Beatrice sent word that she
would not be here this morning. That means she did not care to go
with us. Beatrice will never suit Guy. She is too changeable.
There's that hateful agent of mine crossing the street; coming here,
I'll bet. Watch i:he hall door, child, and if the servant comes for me,
say I'm out. If anything will make me marry again, it would be
to get rid of agents."
Mrs. Eaymond and Stella were on time at court, and were com-
pelled to wait a few minutes before the entrance of Nathan Eoach
as a prisoner. His case was set to open the proceedings. The cap-
tain, with spectacles, was present and represented the State. The
two policemen who made the arrest swore to the fact and stated that
the ring shown in court was found in the coat pocket of the defendant.
George swore that he saw Nathan hang his coat on a hook about an
hour before his arrest and that no one had been in that part of the
saloon between the time of hanging it there and its being taken
down by the defendant. Mrs. Eaymond identified the ring as one of
several pieces of jewelry stolen from her rooms by burglars two nights
before.
Halfen had been summoned as a witness, but not having ma
his appearance, the court was about to decide that it could not wait
for him, when he entered the hall. He was placed upon the stan
and duly sworn.
"Do you know the defendant?"
"I do."
"Have you over seen this ring before?"
"I think not."
"Novcr know of the defendant having it in his possession?"
"No, sir."
"Did he ever offer you any jewelry for sale ?"
GUY EAYMOND. 471
"No jewelry."
"Any other articles?"
"A medal."
"Describe it."
"A silver medal attached to bead work."
"\Vould you recognize the medal if it were produced here?"
"I would."
"Is this it?" asked the attorney.
"That is the medal."
H'jimilton, who was sitting by Nathan as his counsellor, had to
use all of his strength in keep Nathan from springing over the short
space between him arid the perjurer. As it was, he gained his feet
and simultaneously the word liar hissed through his teeth, while
his outstretched arm and extended claw-like fingers indicated what
the result would bo if he could reach his traducer.
Hamilton WHS ihe sole witness for Nathan. He took the stand
and outlined his acquaintance with the accused, his constant com-
panionship with him since his arrival in the city; and even if he
did not possess the honorable character with which his evidence
clothed him: even if he were the criminal which circumstances and
the direct evidence of TTalfen seemed to make him, it was nearly
impossible for him in have committed the crime of burglary without
the knowledge of his constant companion.
The speech of ihe prosecutor was short and pointed. The case
was so plain that it would be presumption to make an extended ar-
gument before the couri. The web of circumstances was woven with-
out a, break in its perfection, and was made clear and definite by the
testimony of a direct witness as to the possession of other property
stolen on the same occasion when the missing jewelry was taken, a
portion of which was discovered in a pocket of the defendant.
At the conclusion of the attorney's remarks, Hamilton requested
the court's permission to represent the defendant, who was unable
lo 'tnploy counsel. He (the speaker) could produce the evidences of
his right to plead a case in his own State, but they being inaccessible,
he would have to rely upon the indulgence of the court of a sister com-
monwealth to take his word for it. After a few pertinent questions,
the court acceded to his desire, and the Mississippian began :
"Your Honor, I have watched the progress of this case with much
interest, because from its very inception from the moment when
those two well meaning policemen laid their official hands upon this
defendant up to the conclusion of the testimony, I have sniffed the
strong odor of a deep laid conspiracy to bring to ruin the character
Of their victim, and by encircling him with the meshes of the law
472 GUY EAYMOND.
to take away his liberty. If this be true, there is a deep set purpose,
and if this purpose be not confined to narrow limits, there may be
other victims to sate the appetite and cram the voracious maw of
this plotting monster. It is true that the evidence is in and the
argument has opened, but with the words of the prosecutor, there
flashed upon my mind an incident or two which the furtherance of
justice and a desire to shielrl tho innocent demand to be looked into.
I ask the consent of the court under the plea of newly discovered
evidence to allow the recall of one or more witnesses to reply to
questions purely germane to their direct testimony. I believe your
Honor will view this request in its equitable" bearings, and that the
State will not interpose objections."
The court having assented, Hamilton called for the first witness.
A policeman took the stand.
"You arrested the defendant?"
"I did/'
"On what species of information?"
"A paper saying that in George's saloon was a coat hanging which
belonged to one of four men playing at cards. In a pocket of
the coat was a piece of the jewelry which had been stolen from a
house on Eoyal street."
"What followed?"
"I got a chum and went to the place, saw the coat and waited
for a man to claim it. The one who claimed it was the defendant
here. We arrested him, and on searching the pockets of the gar-
ment, found (the ring now in court."
"Have you this paper?"
"Here it is," handing the paper.
"Whose writing is it?"
"That I don't know."
"Are you an expert in handwriting ?"
"How?"
"In telling the same hand on different papers."
"I'm pretty good that way."
"Examine this and say what resemblance there is between it an
the note you received."
"I should say the same person wrote it."
"Call the saloon-keeper Mr. George," said Hamilton.
George, who was in hearing, came forward.
Hamilton interrogated him :
"George, who wrote that?' 7
"I did," was the reply.
GUY RAYMOND. 473
"What is that paper?"
"It is a receipt I gave you."
"Now tell this court who wrote that."
George took the note which the policeman swore he had received
as information against Nathan. His hands trembled as he regarded
it and in a hesitating manner,, he replied,, as Hamilton confronted
him sternly:
"I couldn't say, sir."
"Did you not write that and give it to a fellow who was in your
saloon for a few minutes on the night of the arrest, to take to the
station?"
"If I did I don't remember."
"Did you not have a talk with Half en about that note?"
"I don't remember."
"Have you not talked with Halfen about crushing this defendant
and some one else who was supposed to know a good deal about
your's and his operations somewhere on a certain island, for in-
stance?"
The witness half rose, reddened and resumed his seat in an agitated
manner.
"Answer my question."
"I don't know what you are talking about."
At this point of the proceedings Halfen rose to leave, when Ham-
ilton asked the court to detain him as he wished to call him to the
sta:id.
The court requested Halfen to remain.
"What does he wish with me?" asked Halfen.
"You both will know before I get through with you."
"Now, Mr. George, I wish to know if you did not see a sneaking-
looking fellow at the door while we were playing cards?"
"Think I did."
"Didn't he beckon to you ?"
"Perhaps he did."
"Did you not go to him ?"
"I walked to the screen." i
"Did not this fellow walk into (the saloon after you went to the
screen ?"
"He might."
"Don't you know he did ?"
"If he did I don't remember."
bu can stand aside. Call Mr. Half on."'
cio came forward,
your direct examination you stated that Mr. Roach, the de-
474 GUY RAYMOND.
fendant here, offered to sell you this medal ?"
"I did."
"What time was that ?"
"Day before yesterday, I think."
"What place?"
"On Conti street, somewhere."
"About what hour?"
"Between ten and eleven."
"Was any other person present?"
"No one."
"You may stand aside. Will the court please swear me?*'
The oath was administered.
"I wish to make a statement to impeach the testimony of the
witness Halfen. On the day he stated that the defendant offered
him the medal for sale, on that day between the hours of ten and
eleven and many blocks away from the street he names as the place
where the offer was made, this dfendant and myself were in company
in my quarters where I was engaged the whole morning mostly in
writing letters for myself and one for the defendant. Furthermore,
I will state that during the entire day, froin the hours mentioned
until late bedtime, I was in company with Nathan Roach, this de-
fendant here, and that we slept in the same room that night. I
will also state that on the night of the robbery we occupied the same
room, and on going to bed, there was but one vacant chair. On
this the defendant spread his clothing first. I retired a little lat(
and placed a portion of my own clothing over his. The next moi
ing I arose first and will swear that from all appearances not an arti<
on the chair had been disturbed."
After Hamilton concluded his testimony, he resumed his
ment.
"I do not think, your Honor, that the finely woven web of the
State appears so intact as it did a while ago. The alleged clearness
which the direct and positive testimony imparted to its structural
beauty has assumed, to the eye of reason, a decidedly muddy hue,
covering with the mephistic odors of perjury the rotten structure
erected by a mean conspiracy. Your Honor must have noted how
the witness, George, squirmed when I questioned him as to who wrote
the receipt and who wrote the note. How he swore in his direct
testimony that no one had been near the hanging coat, or even into
the saloon, and when cross-ex;) mined he could remember nothing.
If he wrote the note he could not remember. His memory was de-
cidedly bad concerning this villainy, but when I stirred the depths
of his self-accusing conscience by allusion to another villainy coi
GUY RAYMOND. 475
mitted in a distant place and wherein another witness in this case
was particeps criminis, how it fell upon him like a thunder bolt of
Jove and raised him nearly out of his seat; how the tell-tale color
fired his cheek and his nerves became unstrung in conscious guilt.
The conspiracy is plain the ring placed in the coat by the stranger
who beckoned to George; the note sent through him by George to
apprise the police. The identity of the two handwritings, which must
be apparent to this court and to anyone who will give the papers
but a hasty inspection, is enough to* crush their scheme. It takes
an expert, your Honor, to avoid the characteristics of handwriting.
The uneducated and the clumsy pensman, as is this man, cannot
do away, if they try, with the tell-tale peculiarities of writing.
Then, to crown the pyramid of infamy erected by these unhandy
plotters, comes the perjury of this wretch in human shape; this blot
upon created things ; this so-called man to whose name, in the eternal
fitness of things, was denied the ordinary euphonies which sometimes
detract from the ungainliness of personality. It is in evidence that
his story here was pure fiction. I laid the predicate to catch him
and he sits there impeached before a court of his country and we
defy him to clear his skirts. But he has learned so many lessons in
infamy that the role he played here has become the second nature
to which his whole character is bent, and he has reached that depth
in the abyss of moral turpitude that precludes every further move-
ment that does not tend to the lowest deep. Your Honor, I have
done with this case. I thank you for the privilege granted me to
defend this man, and I believe that without one word from my lips
after the cross examination of the witnesses and my own testimony,
your decision would have been the same as it will be now."
The court rendered its decision at once. The defendant was
admitted to bail in a nominal sum and in the meantime remanded
to the custody of the sheriff with an injunction for good treatment
until the same should be furnished.
Hamilton explained to Nathan the nature of the court's action
and assured him that it was equivalent to an acquittal.
The backwoodsman grasped his friend's hand and thanked him for
his assistance.
"Yer is a trump, Hamilton, and I shall never forgit yer talk;
but Lordy, man, yer flew off inter that lingo that a feller couldn't
make out the head or tail of it, but I low'd yer was givin' of 'em fits/'
Nathan's first impulse when he thought himself free, was to go
for the false swearing Ducio, the ingrate, who could so soon forget
the service he had done him in the instance of the runaway team.
476 GUY RAYMOND.
a and
But Hamilton told him to keep cool and to leave Ducio to him an
he would afford him ample opportunity for revenge. Meantime,
he would get him a surety on his bond.
The case against Laoni was next called, and Nathan, who was
still i in court, was dumfounded to find the defendant who appeared
was his Indian friend His demonstration to give her a warm
salutation was checked by the officer who had her in charge. So
soon as she was arraigned the State's attorney asked for a postpone-
ment of the case until the afternoon. Mrs. Raymond for the first
time learned the nationality of the accused and was struck with the
idea that she must be her Indian, and if that were the case she must
be innocent. She requested the court to allow her to interview the
prisoner, to which a gracious consent was given. The lady intro-
duced herself as being the person who had lost the jewelry, and told
Laoni that she would like to hear what statement she had to make.
A long interview followed, in which Mrs. Raymond became acquainted
with much of Laoni's story and recognized her as the protege of her
late brother. The information that the medal was claimed as the
property of the lady's niece had a depressing influence on the satis-
faction which Mrs. Raymond's announced relationship to her late
protector should have produced in Laoni's mind. She wondered how
it could be, never suspecting that El Bravo would have willingly parted
with her gift. It caused her to look with suspicion on this newly
proffered friendship which might eventuate in duplicity like the hol-
low protestations of Ducio. It was something to have her story
believed in regard to her innocence of the crime, and comforting to
be assured that influence would be brought to bear to arrest further
prosecution. Mrs. Raymond thought the girl was mistaken about
the medal, but regarded the matter as too trivial for much considera-
tion. Stella could well afford to relinquish the bauble which had
no importance as a relic and little intrinsic value. She remained
until the court reconvened, when she prevailed upon the attorney to
nol pros the case. The triumphant lady took her new charge in the
carriage with herself and Stella with the view of domesticating her
at once at her hotel, but at the earnest request of Laoni, she left
her at the gate of the Convent of the Sacred Heart.
The sounds of the carriage wheels had not died away when the
door swung open to admit the girl to the holy precincts of the insti-
tution. Within such she had seen and learned all that redeemed
the white man's civilization from the basest selfishness and greed,
and the familiar forms, the charming quiet, the orderly appearance,
the frank welcome vitalized her drooping spirits and settled upo
her a feeling of content, of asylum from the pitfalls and menaces
:,
GUY RAYMOND. 477
the Christian world. Her credentials were ample to admit her to the
hearts and care of the ladies of the order, whose house could be hers
until she would be able to better define her future.
The next morning Laoni found herself more content. It was
the day on which she was to again meet Nathan. She had little
idea of seeing with him the form which most filled her mind, but the
light of hope kindled by the words of her rude friend had never paled,
and she felt assured that she would sometime soon see El Bravo.
On leaving the Convent gate to keep her appointment, she en-
countered Beatrice, who was about to enter. An immediate mutual
recognition followed.
"Are you staying here?" asked Beatrice.
"For a time/' replied Laoni, "and until I get a place."
"You broke your engagement with me and hired to another. Why
have you quit your place so soon ?"
"I was fooled. They made me believe that I was going to you
when I got in the carriage/'
Beatrice's interest became so aroused that she walked along by
the side of Laoni white the latter gave in brief the details of her
experience.
"Now that you are free from it all, will you come and stay with
me as you intended ?"
"You may come tomorrow morning at the Convent and I will
answer."
"And now you are going to "
"I must meet a friend. On what he tells me or on what I see
and hear at the meeting will depend my coming to you."
"A lover, perhaps," thought Beatrice.
"Do not let anyone persuade you into more scrapes, Laoni. Can
you depend on this friend?"
"On him! Yes, and better on one who may be with him. To
meet or hear of this one is why I have to meet a friend."
"Be careful that both do not prove false. It would be a blow
to find, between the two, a friend and lover, both untrue. Is one
an Indian?"
"No. Both are white, but so different; both are honorable.
But one is rough as the stone just from the mountain side; the other
as smooth and shapely as its mate after it has left the hands of the
skillful workman."
Beatrice wondered much at Laoni's words, and thought that
the Ursulines had not curtailed her opportunities for acquaintance
with men, nor had a Convent life dulled her manifestly acute per-
ceptions of the rough and the polish in masculine character.
L11*J
mid
478 GUY RAYMOND.
"Yet you regard both alike?"
"Both alike? Oh, no! The one I long to meet is before the
world, before Walumpta, my father. Without him the light woul
dim to darkness; there would be no aim to live Unless my life me;
a journey to the death which will unite us."
"He loves you?"
"He did love me; not wildly as I loved him, but yet with a love
on which angels could smile. But it matters little how well I am
loved, Laoni's heart can only be El Bravo's."
"El Bravo's \ thought Beatrice. "Did not I hear that before some-
where ?"
"Well, Laoni," she said, "I will leave you here. I hope you will
meet your your friend ; and whether you do or not, I trust you will
be ready to go home with me in the morning."
Laoni's grave face did not respond to the other's smile, but, utter-
ing a mechanical good-bye, she turned away to Canal street.
She found Nathan awaiting her, apparently in patience, as he
was regarding things around him with an air of curiosity, which was
none the less emphasized by a partly open mouth and hands crossed
behind him under the tail of his coat.
She placed her hand lightly on his arm before he saw her.
"Thought yer'd give it up," he said.
"I am a little late. I was talking to a lady part of the way, and
we walked slow."
"Well, he ain't come," was his abrupt announcement.
"No? You could not help that."
"Wish'd I could ; he'd a come."
"No news?"
'Not a word. Say, did that feller Half en do yer any dirt ?"
"Any dirt?"
"Treat yer bad and
"He would have done so, but I escaped."
"The liar ! Said I'd steal ! He'll feel me yit. Yer know some
thin' ? We're goin' to raise him out'en his boots."
"Out of his boots?"
"Goin' to clean him up walk through him squelch him."
Laoni did not exactly understand the phraseology employed
her friend and remained silent and thoughtful.
Nathan continued:
"Hamilton says he's got to regorge or degorge or disgorge
sumthin' like that. He means that he's got to give up some stole
money and property and so on. He's been stealin' like thunder
GUY EAYMOND. 479
and see here, miss! what he's been stealin' b'longs by rights to this
young feller yer want to see so bad. Ef he thinks a lot of yer, or
half as much as yer do of him, ye're certain of a pile when we git
through with Halfen."
"I do not care for his money. Money seems to be the real god
which is worshipped by the white people. The God of their religion
condemns the worship, yet they go on setting up gold and silver
above Him, while they claim to believe it to be wrong. In this
the white people are two-faced."
"Ye're like me, miss; yer will spit out the truth. I tell 'em
this here city life is a pore excuse. Give me a rifle, a scalpin' knife
and freedom everytime."
Laoni's disappointment, though great, was borne with a natural
stoicism that concealed it effectually. She gave Nathan her address,
stating that if she was not at the Convent, the nuns would know
wln-re she could be found. He promised to apprise her of the ar-
rival of Guy or of any news affecting him, which he might hear.
After the good-byes the backwoodsman turned again and again to
take a look at the retreating form of the girl, until she turned a corner.
"Ef ever I'd thought I'd keer that much fur a squaw! Thar'-
s u ni thin' 'bout her that makes a feller feel all-overish. Blamed
ef I don't wish she didn't like that feller in Texis so powerful much.
Any how, ef he ain't stuck on that gal we rescued that night, I'm the
worst fooled sucker in Orleans."
Nathan heaved a little sigh, but soon forgot his sentimental strain
after he caught sight of Hamilton, who was approaching from the
levee.
"I can give you the news you wanted this morning, Nathan," he
said.
"What news?"
"Guy Eaymond AVI 11 be Here tomorrow or the next day."
"The dickens yer say !"
"He, Manuel Ruiz, Perry and that old jailer's daughter. I got
.a letter' from Perry. They would have left by the schooner which
brought the letter,' but it had no accommodations for passengers,
and on account of the lady, they waited two days for another vessel."
"We'll make Halfen howl then, fur all the triggers is fixed."
"Let's t;ik<> something on the strength of it, Nathan."
" xr e're never hard up' fur 'senses to take a drink; it's yer failin'."
ut consider the occasion. Where'll we go to George's?"
'o George's."
480 GUY RAYMOND.
CHAPTER LXV.
"She is a singular girl," thought Beatrice, when she parted
Laoni. The latter's frankness impressed her favorably. Her strength,
of mind was apparent from her perfect self reliance. The qualities
were the concomitants of character in a natural person, one untainted
by the artificialism demanded by the customs of the society of civili-
zation. The seeds of moral training, sown by the Convent teachers
had fallen upon good soil. The precepts of the Christian nuns
had been turned to practical use by this child of nature, and the
result was a character for imitation, an embodiment whose exterior
was a reflection of an interior of sincerity and truth. Laoni was a
natural person. She was not more virtuous than when she clung to
youthful Guy in her native village; her character was merely remod-
eled in the mould of a civilization which had failed to leave the
impress of its blemishes. Hence she could not fail to excite the
admiration of those who would behold, in practical life, the reflection
of theoretical good. The gawky Nathan, the villainous Ducio, the
fashionable Mrs. Raymond, the refined and beautiful Beatrice all
beheld the traits which distinguished the Indian girl; traits, however,
which affected them dissimilarly. With Beatrice, the interest was
heightened by something more than mere admiration by a feeling
she could not shake off, and which was akin to fascination. The
ensuing morning she was impatient until she found herself out of the
house and on her way to the Convent. Laoni was expecting her.
"I will not be long," she said, as she turned to go for her satchel
and take leave of the sisters.
"He did not come, then ?" said Beatrice, half inquiringly.
"I will tell you when we are going," replied Laoni, as she left the
reception room.
She had hardly disappeared before the front door opened am
Stella entered from the street.
"What! Stella?" exclaimed Beatrice.
"It is no one else. Good morning, Beatrice; you've been hei
since mass ?"
"I've just come, and have not been to mass. Does this mean tli;
your holiday is over ?"
"Yes. Studies begin today and I would not miss them for
pretty. But what brings you to the Convent?"
"I'll tell you another "time."
"I can guess."
"Guess."
GUT RAYMOND. 481
"That girl/'
"That is very indefinite/' said Beatrice, smiling.
"You and aunt will have it."
"I can stand it/'
"Have you seen her ?"
"I have."
"And secured her?"
"I have."
"I find her a strange person, don't you, Beatrice?"
"Strange? Yes. To say the truth, she is an oddity. So plain
and natural; so much at ease, with an expression upon her shapely
features that invests her with a real beauty in contract with her
brown complexion and her Indian birth. There is a something which
seems to impress me while in her presence that T have had some
intercourse with her in the past, yet I know that it must be only an
impression."
"It is strange about my medal. She claims it."
"It might have once been hers."
"In the Indian country ?"
"Possibly. I'd give it up to her, poor thing. You set little
value upon it, seeing you are no Catholic."
"But Mr. Trigg-
"Oh ! He is dead and 'one and-
Beatrice was interrupted by the entrance of Laoni, ready to go
with her. Laoni regarded Stella for an instant.
"You are the young girl who was in the carriage?"
"Yes; with my aunt. Good morning."
"The medal was stolen from you ?"
"It was."
"And you you got it from
"From a friend in Texas."
"I am ready to go," said Laoni, turn ing to Beatrice.
"Good-bye, Stella," said the latter. "Somebody will be here in a
day or two, when I am fearful your studies will be interrupted."
"For a day, perhaps, for of course you will monopolize him. If
you see him first, bring him right here."
The two girls, the Mexican and the Indian, walked for a time
in silence, each occupied by their thoughts ; bow nearly similar, in
regard to their object, will be left to the reader to infer. There were
only a few persons in the street. A block or two alidad a crowd of
boys and men were around an organ-grinder who was amusing them by
the antics of a monkey.
Beatrice broke the silence :
482 GUY RAYMOND.
"How about the friend you went to see on yesterday ?"
"I found him waiting."
"And alone?"
"Alone."
"Did his words give you any comfort?"
"Yes. In his rough way, he fed the hope that led me to
meeting. I will not trouble him more. If he hears of anything
will know how to find me."
"If he hears of this dearer friend ?"
"Of El Bravo yes."
"Had he no other name ?"
"To me he will always be El Bravo. 'Twas so I used to call him
in those sweet, peaceful days when the beauty of his smile made the
hills seem greener, the mountains grander as we walked in the mellow
light of sunset, where the waters of our river poured over the rocky
fall with a roar that could be heard beyond the village. His other
name "
"A scream from Beatrice interrupted her. They had reached
the corner where the organ-grinder had installed himself in the street,
and as they were about to pass, the monkey, at a sign from his master,
dashed up to Beatrice, hat in hand, to beg for money. His appear-
ance was so sudden and contact so close that she screamed from absolute
fright, Laoni, seeing in the cause of her alarm a hideous but un-
known form, at once interposed and dealt the animal a severe sla
The monkey recovered himself and springing at his assailant, b
her on the finger. The organ-grinder dragged his pet away by t
rope just in time to save it from a crushing blow aimed at it by
queerly dressed individual, who had a little before been endeavori
to drive a trade with the monkey's master. With the failure of th
blow to settle the monkey, the disappointment of the individual
found vent in his peculiar language.
"I'll be dad seized ef I didn't like to wind up his persimmo
Madam is yer hurt much ? Well, if it ain't you !" he exclaimed,
he met Laoni 's look.
"My finger is bleeding from the bite of that ugly thing," she said.
"The pestifferous wretch! The master ain't a bit better'n the
monkey, and I've a notion to jess clean him up fur paradin' a dan-
gerous brute."
"He is not to blame," said Beatrice. "I suppose I was fooli
for screaming. We are much obliged to you, sir, for coining to o
rescue."
"Nary a thank, mum. I was a little hot with that ar I-tali
ual
;
GUY RAYMOND. 483
afore yer cum up, seein' he wouldn't offer me but a picayune for
ih is monkey jacket that I fetched all the way from Tex is to sell to
his perfession. It is oncommon suitabul for a monkey, and the little
Mexican offiser who I took it off of looked like he mought be first
cousin to one/'
As Nathan said this,, he drew from beneatli his coat the jacket
in question, still glittering with its wealth of lace and buttons.
"You would find a better market for your jacket at the pawn
shops/' suggested Beatrice, smiling.
"But my heart was set on seein' the monkey wear it," said Nathan,
whose attention was suddenly attracted by the departure of the
Italian and his monkey.
When the backswoodsman looked around again for Laoni and her
companion, they had disappeared.
"Blamed ef I didn't furgit to tell her 'bout the news Hamilton
got in that letter/' he muttered, as he tucked the jacket under his coat
and struck out down the street.
Laoni was assigned to her apartment at the Bivas home, which was
adjoining the one occupied by Beatrice. The latter informed her
new maid and companion that her duties would be light and that she
need not concern herself about them for the day. Her necessary
wants and requirements would be inquired into by her friend, and
all that would be needed would be supplied. The room was neat and
tidy, well, though, simply, furnished and calculated, with the as-
surance of her new friend's protection, to make her feel as contented
as circumstances would permit. As she glanced out of the window
from this cozy asylum to take a survey of the vicinage she thought that
here she would remain until the coming of El Bravo.
When Beatrice was alone in her room that afternoon she unlocked
her little w riling case and drew oul a letter which had been opened.
She took it from the envelope and reread it.
It was from Guy Eaymond.
She looked out of the casement in a dreamy, abstracted manner,
find gave full piny in her UK nights.
"He will be here tomorrow, perhaps. Wonder what he will think
of my Indian maid?"
Twenty-Tour hours' slay within the walls of the Rivas mansion
had made Laoni feel that she was in the midst of a family whose
characteristics tilled somewha! the measure of tlje ideal she had
formed of the people to whom (luy Raymond belonged. She began
to realize that there could exist an approaeh to (he standard of the
theoretical morality of civilization in prnctieal life. She was ready
484 GUY RAYMOND.
to be convinced of this at all events with further experience. These
reflections possessed her mind the next day after her arrival in her new
home when left alone by the absence of Beatrice on a shopping tour
for her benefit, to procure those necessities deemed essential to a
wardrobe becoming her newly assumed position. The day was cloudy
as she entered her own apartment from that of Beatrice, and to admit
more light she drew aside the curtains and threw open the front
blinds. Naturally she glanced out upon the street as she lowered the
sash again, and became almost transfixed at something that caught
her vision. A figure so familiar, a portion of a face from under the
hat brim and the owner of both passed under the veranda as he
crossed directly towards the house. The powers incident to her ex-
traction, for the moment, deserted her and she trembled with emo-
tions of ecstacy, of doubt, as to the realism of her vision. The door
to the hall was open. She stood rooted to the spot until the tink-
ling of the doorbell noted the presence of a caller. She stole quietly
to the railing guarding the space down which extended the flight of
steps and listened. The servant had already answered the bell and
the words greeted her ear.
"This is the right place. I will go up and tell her that you
wish to see her. Your name "
"Just say it is one whom she is expecting. She will know/ 7
The voice was Guy Raymond's. Laoni recognized it. She heard
him say that she was expecting him. Nathan had furnished him
with her address, procured at the convent. It was all so plain to
her. He had just arrived and had hastened to discover her where-
abouts. Was this not evidence that he loved her the same as when
he sat beside her on the rock above the fall? All these thoughts
required but an instant to flash through her mind, and without
waiting for the servant to notify her, she hastily descended to the
drawing room.
Guy, who had arrived that morning, needed no pilot to guide hi
to the number on Esplanade street, where dwelt Beatrice, she having
fully posted him of the locality. So, after brushing up for the
occasion, he very soon found himself in the Rivas' drawing room.
Not anticipating a very prompt descent of his ladylove from the
regions above, he did not seat himself, but stood with his back to
the door by which he entered, looking at a fine oil painting over
the mantel. The room was so dark that he was on the eve of decid-
ing that it would require more light to determine its character and
degree of excellence, when he heard the rustle of skirts, and turning
caught in his arms the form of a woman.
TUT RAYMOND.
"Darling!" he said. "Darling did you know who it was?"
"You wrote you would come."
"True but some one else might have called this morning, and
this room is so dark."
"Who would call for me but you? Besides I heard your voice
in the hall, and I would know that voice anywhere."
"I would never have recognized yours, my darling. It has so
changed."
"Because you never heard me speak your language before."
"You forget. We often spoke it in Texas."
"Why trifle so? Or have you forgotten, in this short time, that
my tongue never uttered the words of your people and that all I
know of your past you told me in a language which you learned
from these lips."
"What a strange delusion! Look up, Beatrice, and tell me you
it is who are trifling."
"Beatrice! Beatrice did you say?" said Laoni, drawing away
from him. "Oh El Bravo!"
"El Bravo! El Bravo? Is this a real, waking interview?" said
Guy, rubbing his eyes. "That name! Her voice! English as pure
as any! And in this place! This house! Expected me by letter!"
"Who are you?" he asked earnestly.
"Your darling but a moment ago," said Laoni. "Who is then
your darling, since I am not? Who did you expect to meet here
having a better claim to be your darling?" said Laoni passionately.
Using the Lipan dialect, she continued: "I see it all now. Laoni
is forgotten. El Bravo of the San Saba is lost in the person of
Guy Raymond surrounded by the pretenses of civilization."
"Laoni, is it indeed you?" said Guy, drawing back the heavy
curtains. "Laoni of the San Saba is as dear to me as the sister
of my own blood, but your presence here, speaking my own language
with an ease and culture so remarkable, has made me doubt my own
senses. How came you here thus changed?"
"Are you not changed? Changes do not always appear on one
side. Laoni can change as well, but she has never forgotten El
Bravo. The slightest thing he gave her she has saved some trifles
he merely touched were kept as treasures. Prove to me that you
have kept me in your memory if not in your heart by some slight
token, if it be only to show me the medal which I gave you, and I
will be content."
486
GUY EAYMOND.
"The medal ! It was lost or stolen, at a camp before I ev(
reached Bexar."
"Who did you expect to meet here in this house ?"
"Miss Navarro a lady friend, of San Antonio," replied
rather hesitatingly.
**A friend? A darling friend," said Laoni.
"You are my darling friend," said Guy, approaching her ai
putting his arm around her.
"Laoni, is Miss Navarro in the house?"
"She is not, but she will be here shortly. I had better go befoi
she comes, as my presence may confuse you both."
"No, darling, do not go, but tell me in a few words how came
you here and who lias taught you our language."
"You will know soon enough. Take away your arm and I will
go to find her whom you came to see."
Guy stooped over and kissed her cheek, and when he raised his
head, Beatrice in street dress stood in the door, looking at them.
"This is Mr. Raymond," she said, looking sharply at Guy. "I
hardly recognized you under the circumstances."
"How do you do, Beatrice? In Laoni here I found an old friend,
whom I did not expect to see. It \vas n mutual surprise."
"I am sorry I interrupted your warm greetings, but this
is my parlor and the servant stated that a gentleman was here to
see me. This girl is my maid. Does Mr. Raymond still desire to
see me?"
"That was the object of my coming, and there has occum
nothing to change my desire to see you."
"Indeed !"
Laoni felt the embarrassment of her position, and without ai
attempt at explanation, passed out and up to her room.
"Beatrice," said Guy, "I hope you are not offended. This gi
saved me from the stake."
She stood motionless regarding him.
"Go up and take off your bonnet and return to me. I ha 1
much to tell you."
"Indeed !" she said, and turning away, slowly ascended to t'
second story.
How long Guy waited he knew not, before a servant appea]
and stated that Miss Navarro would like to be excused from seeii
him that day.
GUY RAYMOND. 487
CHAPTER LXVI.
Conveniently situated to the convent of the Sacred Heart was
another religions institution, composed of women who had renounced
the world, as constituted by the tyranny of custom, with its check-
ered experiences, and who devoted their time and energies to the
alleviation of the ills with which a false civilization has honey-
combed the social fabric. As at the convent, the members of this
order of mercy were of the Roman Catholic faith. Their religious
belief was, however, not obligatory from any clause in the organic
law, hut rather a natural resultant of the encouragement thrown
out by the Catholic hierarchy for the formation of charitable institu-
tions. In the convents, whether cloistered or not, adhesion to the
Catholic doctrine was a sine qua mm For admission even to novitiates.
The Little Sisters of the Poor for that was the name of the chari-
table order in <|iiesiion were beloved and respected by the citizens,
who showed them every mark of courtesy whenever their well-known
habits told of their presence on the streets, on their way to the
hospitals or bent upon some mission of mercy.
The morning after ilie incidents which closed the preceding
chapter of tin's story, the doorbell of the house of the Little Sisters
announced an earlv caller. The doorkeeper admitted a woman closely
veiled who wished to speak with the principal. The latter soon
responded, when the visitor handed her a note, which she at once
read, after motioning the other to a seat.
"You think you could stand the life?" she asked of her visitor.
"Stand it! Great endurance is a part of my nature. The
mother superior wrote, in that note, that I am an Indian."
"True but I should think because of that very blood you would
irrn\v restive under restraint."
"If I grew restive you would never know it. Your faith encour-
ages you to persevere in good deeds in spite of difficulties and priva-
tions. With me it would be a patient philosophy."
"It is true, as the superior states in her note, that we have no
expressed rule, that fixes our religion, and it is only by implication
that we must be Catholics. We could not admit you to full mem-
bership, in the absence of all precedent, without having a consulta-
tion, and seeking the advice of the bishop. However, you are wel-
come, and we shall find you plenty to do as a volunteer; but to
co-operate with us you will have to assume our dress."
"I thank you very much, good lady."
488 GUY RAYMOND.
"Sister Agnes, you may call me. Come with me and
provide you a dress."
"You have them ready made?"
"Oh, yes! And easy to suit. We are not so particular as to the
cut and fit of our dress. We leave that to the world; service is the
only consideration here."
Laoni followed Sister Agnes from the apartment, to enter upon
a role which she little anticipated a few hours before.
When she regained her room after she left Guy in the parlor
she began to deliberate on what appeared to be the situation of
affairs between El Bravo and the young lady who had taken such
an interest in her. The morning's incidents had made to her a
revelation that she might have anticipated had she not been, as
she was, a genuine child of nature, pure in motives, and untainted
by the shadow of selfishness in her love for the boy hero who had
come to her mountain home to change the whole bent of her exist-
ence. El Bravo loved her; but did his love for her stand as a
bulwark to withstand the inclinations of his heart to break away
and welcome attachments which his attractions must induce from
the women of his own race?
Her philosophy raised the point her good sense recognized its
potency.
Beatrice's steps along the hall to her own room attracted her
attention. She approached the closed door of communication an<
listened. Sobs came first then words:
"Oh, that I ever loved such a man ! Here, under this roof, with
his paramour and she an Indian! The impudence to go to this
parlor unasked for and to be found in his embrace. He may take
his Indian and go and I wish him the joy that must come from
such congenial company."
Laoni entered Beatrice's room.
"Lady, your words are full of injustice. If the Indian girl
of an inferior race she is the more proud that she can rise above
the selfishness of the white girl. You cannot love this man more
strongly that she you call his paramour. You cannot respect him
so well or you would not attack his virtue from chance appearance.
If I love him it is for his bravery and for a gentle modesty which
the pure alone can know. Our meeting was one of the accidents of
life, and if I saved him from the flames it was for himself, not
for Laoni for himself to work out a destiny, in the enjoyment
the friendships which his nobleness must attract in the light of
love fit for virtuous manhood. If this lovelight come from yoi
of
lot
-'
AYMOND.
eyes and burn in your bosom. Laoni's act is as unregretted as her
aim was unselfish when she scattered the fagots that would have
destroyed him."
"If you are so unselfish, why did you rush to his arms when he
came to see me?"
"You judge me wrong. I was told that he would seek me here."
"Wlio was your informant?"
"Do you remember the fellow who aimed the blow at the monkey ?"
"That ragamuffin?"
"He is a noble fellow, but ignorant."
"A fit go-between. Leave me, if you please. I am sick of this
talk sick of him and sick of you."
"While I am sorry for your displeasure, I pity your weakness.
When selfishness so narrows the mind that justice and charity are
forced to retire then there is nothing left but pity for the unfor-
tunate."
"I scorn your pity, and insist that you take yourself away."
"It was a part of my object in entering your room to tell you that
I am about to leave. What should have been a bond between us has
made separation necessary."
Laoni closed her door behind her. She heard the message sent
below through the servant and waited to hear the exit of Guy Kay-
mond. She went to the veranda and watched him move slowly
and dejectedly away. Her look followed him as long as it was pos-
sible to see him, and then a tear glistened in her eye as she drew down
the sash and made preparations to depart. Her first destination was
the Convent. Here she advised with the good Mother Superior, re-
sulting in her determination to seek refuge with the "Little Sisters
of The Poor."
Before Nathan had had an opportunity to apprise Guy Kaymond
that a dusky maiden was desirous to see him so soon as he arrived
in the city, the latter made his unfortunate call at the Eivas home.
When on the next morning he stated Laoni's wishes, Guy merely
said that the interview had taken place. Disconcerted at what had
happened, he thought it a good idea to utilize Nathan in discovering
some inkling of the effect of the denouement of the day before. He
informed him of his desire to learn if Laoni was still at the house
on Esplanade street, and if not, to ascertain her present whereabouts.
"Yer goin'ter write it down?" queried Nathan.
"Oh, no !" said Guy. "You just call as if to see her as a friend,
490 GUY RAYMOND.
and if she is there ask her privately if she is going to remain, a
if not where she is going to and that I wish to see her/
"I see ; yer wants to talk 'bout ole times. Yer mite a said as mu
when yer seed her."
"I saw her only for a moment and had not time to speak of it."
"Well, its nun of my bizness'and I'll jess do as yer say."
Nathan started out on the trail, as he mentally expressed his mis-
sion, to iiixl his squaw friend. He proceeded some distance in a
kind of abstracted manner when he discovered that the Rivas address
had entirely escaped his memory. He hesitated a moment when
he realized this fact, then struck out at a rapid pace until he reached
the Convent of the Sacred Heart.
Here he learned from the nuns the new address of his friend.
With some inquiry he found the house of the Little Sisters, from
which he saw two figures, dressed in the garb of the order, emerge
and proceed down the street. He deliberated a moment as to
whether he would accost these for information or enter the place at
once. He concluded to pursue the latter course.
Not noticing a bell, a sister responded to his loud raps.
"Is there an Injun woman here named named Laoni?"
"Laoni? Not that I know of, sir."
"She was here ; so the lady said over at the Convent."
"Wait a moment and I will see."
The sister was soon back and announced :
"The person you inquired for just went out as you came in.
was with another sister."
"Both of 'em had on them ar dresses ?"
"Yes ; both dressed alike."
"She's jined, then," Nathan said half aside.
The sister was amused.
"If you go quickly you will overtake them."
Nathan took the hint and soon his long strides were conveyi
him at a rapid pace.
"Whew !" he said to himself. "Jined them ar folks ! He's
her an' had a row bet a quarter. Now she's ben an' gone i
done it."
Before long his rapid gait brought him in the sight of the t
forms who had left the house of the Little Sisters.
Another dilemma confronted Nathan.
Which was which? was his mental query. Both the same height
and both muffled up so that their faces could not be distinguish
He followed on at a respectful distance, trying to formulate a cou
i
GUY EAYMOND. 491
of procedure, when one of the two objects of his interest glider! into
the door of a building, while the other proceeded on.
Now, Nathan thought, he had only one to confront and he trusted
that luck would make that one Laoni.
Striding along up to her side, he touched the sister on the shoulder.
"Scuse me, mum. Is you Miss Laoni ?"
The startled woman gave a slight. seream, and seizing each side
of her projecting hood, gazed, frightened, at her accostor from between
her hands.
"Scuse me, I said. Didn't mean to skeer yer."
"What do you wish, sir?"
fcfc j see you ain't her. Kin yer tell ef the other was?"
"What other? Was who?'"
"Fact I didn't say who Laoni, the one that jined yer today.
Was that her that slipped into that door?"
"It was her; but you must wait until she comes out, as she has
gone in there to see a sick person."
Nathan was rather crestfallen at this announcement. He sat
down on the curb to think. It did not take many minutes to exhaust
his patience.
He determined to not return from a trail so fresh as the one
he was on, and vowed that he would get the information Guy wanted
if he had to invade the sick chamber.
He cautiously opened the door through which he had seen the sister
disappear from the street. Inside was a hall with a flight of steps
on one side and two doors on the other. He tread lightly as he
advanced with the eat-like movement he learned in his Indian scouts.
The house was so still that it seemed to invite caution without any
apparent reason for it. There was not a soul in the two lower rooms.
Nathan noiselessly ascended the steps and gained the upper hall.
Here he heard the soft murmur of voices, and finally located the
sounds as coming from a room on his left. He listened.
"Sister this is good of you, but what you can do for me will be
of no use. Nursing, anyone can do; and your time is so in demand
that I feel it will be wasted on me. As for religion, I have none,
although all my people are Catholics, and my uncle is a worthy
priest."
"I assure you, religion does not bring me here, unless it is the
religion of humanity. I myself have no faith no Christian belief
but my heart goes out to all my fellow-creatures, especially if the
hand of adversity be upon them."
"Your words are strange, sister, considering your calling, but
492 GUY EAYMOND.
e gulf
they find an echo in my heart. The hypocrisy in religion; the
that separates its theory and practice, digested me and made me worse
than I would have been if I had only learned the morals which spring
from the lessons of duty."
"You said that your sickness is unnatural."
"It comes from slow poison."
"Slow poison ?"
"Yes. The wretch who ruined me, who owns this house, has ad-
ministered it under the name of tonic."
"Have you taken it lately ? v
"Only yesterday I discovered it. I had a chemist to analyze it
without his knowledge."
"He should suffer for it the
Nathan heard the conversation up to this point, when he became
aware, as well as alarmed, at the approach of steps from below. His
attitude had a rather compromising appearance, although his mission
was one of conscience, and without reflection, he darted into the op-
posite door. The apartment in which he found himself had the ap-
pearance of a private chamber of a gentleman half study, half
sitting-room. Easy chairs, a table with pitcher and glasses, shelves
with books, before which curtains were partially drawn, and a lounge
composed the principal objects of its furniture. A closet to the
left of the mantel showed through a half open shutter a number of
vials and a bottle or two. In one of the latter a pinkish fluid cov-
ered an inch from its bottom. Nathan was now apprehensive thai;
the person might enter this room, and to prevent discovery, glided
behind the curtains which veiled the book shelves. He had no sooner
gained his position when from behind the curtains he saw Ducio
Half en enter. The villain drew off his coat and, taking from his
pocket a large wallet, he advanced to the right side of the fireplace,
and touching a spot in a panel of the sealed wall, a small door sprang
open, disclosing what appeared to be an iron safe. This he opened
with a key, and depositing the wallet in an inner drawer, he reclosed
the hole.
"Fifty thousand dollars in bills and securities!" he said slowly.
"That makes about one hundred and fifty altogether, and in good
shape to get away with. Fll show Eaymond, Hamilton and company
that they will have nothing to get hold of ; neither Half en nor money."
Nathan grit his teeth and almost whispered :
"He means comp'ny is me."
Ducio went to the closet and took the same bottle he poured
from on a former occasion, and putting a portion of the pink stuff
in a glass, added water. He held it up, saying:
'UY EAYMOND. 493
"If she suspected what this 'tonic' is !"
"Now to her room."
As he passed out Nathan gave a sigh of relief and when he heard
him shut the door of the sick room, he strode from his position,
and seizing the bottle of tonic, held it up, saying :
"Pizen, I reckon/'
His next act was to put the bottle in his pocket.
Proceeding to the place where Ducio had opened the little door,
he was much astonished to find no trace of one. He touched the
panels in many places affecting the manner of Ducio, but no re-
sponse came to his manipulations.
"I'm blamed ef he ain't a shore nuff rascal! I'll git behint the
curtain and mebbe he'll do it agin, and I'll watch closer."
The Arkansian examined everything in the room, and found ar-
ticles, the use of which he could not guess. The amusement served
to make the time pass rabidly during Ducio's absence, which stretched
out to many minutes before the noise of the opening of the opposite
door indicated his return. Nathan lost no time in seeking his hiding
place. The first thing which seemed to strike Ducio was the missing
bottle. He looked for it in the closet. He felt certain that he had
left it on the table.
"The devil!" he exclaimed. "I must find it and throw away the
contents, for I believe, from her manned, she suspects that it is
poison. Could I have been so absent-minded that I locked it up in
the safe?"
So saying he went through the same movements to open .the
shutter and the safe. The bottle was not there.
"God ! Could I have taken it in her room and left it there ?"
Evidently frightened at this surmise, he left his safe open and hur-
ried to Josefa's room.
Nathan, observing his opportunity, sprang to the open safe and,
pulling open the drawer, he took the wallet and the other contents
out and shoved them into his capacious pocket. Eeplacing the drawer,
he was back in hiding just as Ducio reappeared.
"The d n house is haunted, or she has got that bottle; but I will
swear that I left it on this table. Hell and furies! I left the safe
open."
He quickly banged the door of the safe, locked it, and then closed
the wooden panel with an air of relief.
"Suppose I had gone out and left it open?" he mused aloud.
"Now, I must go and make my arrangements. Financially, I am
all right. The next thing is to bluff Eaymond, Hamilton and com-
ea
r
r
494 GUY RAYMOND.
pany in their designs on myself. But d n me, if I can undertsa
about that bottle."
It was not until Ducio slammed the front door that Nathan issued
from behind the curtain.
"He sed I was the company; wasn't wuth naming but peers
me company is somethin' in this 'ere game."
While he spoke he drew out the late contents of the drawer,
and seating himself at the table, he gave the packages a partial in-
spection. The wallet was the first looked over, then several envelopes
were peeped into. A packet tied neatly with red tape offered so much
resistance to his clumsy fingers that he concluded not to open it.
What he saw proved an enigma, for Nathan never heard of bills
of exchange, certificates of deposit and the like. All were replaced
in his pocket and he descended to the street without having been
discovered. His intention was to make his presence known and call
for Laoni, but he was saved the trouble by the appearance of the
new sister in the street door.
"Howdy," he said.
"Do you know me in this dress ?"
"In that rig; but mebbe I'd a had to look twict ef they hadn't tole
me."
"The sisters?"
"The one that come with yer."
"You have been waiting all this time?"
"He tole me to see yer and find out whar yer staid."
"El Bravo?"
"Yes; him."
"Poor El Bravo!"
"Not so pore when I gits thru with him, ef I ain't mor'n comp'ny."
"Is he happy?"
"Ef he ain't he orto be ; rich and all the gals pityin' him."
"If he wishes to see me he can find me out by asking at the Little
Sisters' house on street."
"Fm cocked and primed on that ar. "Done ben thar. And
you jined! But see here, miss; it ain't no proper callin' for a
Injun woman and a likely one like ye are. Yer will shoreiy pine
away in this here town. It ain't wuth shucks."
The couple moved on up the street as they conversed, attractii
the attention frequently of the populace. The lean, angular for
of the man towering above the sombre figure of the sister, who
raised her face to his to address him or to catch a fuller meaning
for his odd expressions. Nathan was well satisfied with himself
and this complacency was not lessened by the knowledge that in his
YMOND.
homely coat he bore the vouchers to a fortune. The fact lent a zest
to his inclination to advise his Indian friend on the plans for her
future.
CHAPTER LXVII.
Beatrice's feelings in regard to the apparent unfaithfulness of
her lover were not at all softened by the calm utterances of Laoni
in reply to her charges and inuendoes. Her passionate nature had
budded and bloomed in a Spanish atmosphere and inherited the fire
of the Castillian blood. The love she bore for Guy Raymond was
pa<sion or nothing. The accidents of intercourse could not modify
its volume nor change its bent. Her's was not a disposition to crush
the selfishness from love and view, with unabated interest, the loved
one through an altruistic lens. With Laoni, Guy's affection for an-
other mattered little if its bestowal contributed to his happiness.
The altruistic character of her regard for the youth who had awakened
the dormant nobility of her simple nature, elevated her above the
pitfalls which beset the course of love springing from mere sexual
attraction.
Beatrice awoke on the morning following her dismissal of Guy
unrefreshed and feverish from a restless night. An analysis of
her mental state would have discovered a prevailing resentment
whose force had a dual direction. Her first decision wa.s that Guy
should feel the share harbored for him, and under this impulse she
dashed off a communication, full of cutting phrases, yet coolly and
definitely expressing her determination to see him no more. The
note was read over, then folded and laid upon her writing desk. She
had not seen her maid since she had dismissed her in anger, but
it was not long before she discovered that Laoni had not occupied
her room, and that she must have left the premises the evening before.
As the day wore on, Beatrice felt her heart soften towards him
whose arrival she had so longed for for months, and she began to find
herself forming more than one excuse for the convicting appear-
ances which had so nettled her bosom.
She concluded to write another note.
The tenor of this later communication was radically different
from the one written in the early morning. It was really apolo-
getic for having so far misjudged him as to call forth her abrupt
message through a servant. She owned to a soreness, caused from con-
clusions suggested by appearam -PS thai were at first glance manifestly
compromising to himself, but hinted that explanations would be in
496 GUY RAYMOND.
h he
order to set himself right, if he still cherished the love which
once professed.
This note she folded and laid beside the other, but taking up the
first she reread it, half smiling at its stinging phrases, then opening
the desk she dropped it in, mentally resolving to preserve it as a
curiosity. While she was thus engaged, the house maid came in to
straighten the apartment and its mistress temporarily vacated it.
Housemaids, like other women, have their quota of curiosity, but
the world's experience proves that those who follow the laudable
avocation of housemaid have absorbed an undue proportion of this
distinguishing trait in feminine character. The maid had an inkling
of the trouble that had sent the young lady to the seclusion of her
chamber, dismissed the gentleman caller, and made a vacancy in
the position of lady's maid. She took in the note reading, the
expression of the reader, the deposit in the desk, and the folded
communication lying on its top. It was a golden opportunity.
Beatrice gone, the note in reach. The maid spelled through its
contents, while she pricked her ears to detect any approach. Only
half satisfied, she went to the door, listened, then returning to the
desk, she raised its lid and drew forth the note deposited there by
Beatrice a few moments before. The girl's eyes brightened as she
gleaned the import of its cutting sentences. She had not completed
the reading before the sounds of footsteps alarmed her. Hastily
folding the notes she raised the desk lid and dropped in the last
written note. The one she had taken out of the desk she placed
in full view upon its top. Satisfied that she had placed everything
exactly as found, she began to ply her broom to the cadence of a low
air, which it was her habit to hum.
That morning Beatrice dispatched a note to Guy Raymond. The
note sent was taken from the top of the desk where she had placed
it about an hour before. Her heart felt lighter as she speculated on
the probable effect of her missive and she congratulated herself that
the first one written was safe inside her escritoire.
Guy's reception by the woman he loved had half dazed him. He
secluded himself for the next day, and when he issued from his retreat
it was only to visit his sister and aunt. His steps were first directed
to the Sacred Heart, where he called for Stella. With the latter
he proceeded to the Rue Royale. Mrs. Raymond was never a favor-
ite with her nephew. She so differed from his dead mother;
the latter being the standard by which he gauged womanly character.
It was during this call upon his aunt that he received the note from
Beatrice, directed to Mrs. Raymond's lodgings. The taciturnity
of the nephew had been noted by the woman of the world and her
GUY RAYMOND. 497
sharp-witted mind detected the change produced in Guy's manner,
as he obviously recognized the handwriting of the superscription.
If it were not for respect for his aunt's presence, it was doubtless
from a desire for greater privacy that he consigned the note to his
pocket unread.
A hope stirred within him that the mute messenger would give
him consolation.
He became more communicative and his conversation drew elas-
ticity from a lighter frame of mind.
When he was on his way back to the Convent with Stella, she
suddenly asked :
"Who was your note from, brother? 1 '
"Why?"
"Was it not from Beatrice?"
"Yes."
" \nd you have not read it?"
"You know I have not."
"What's the matter, brother ? You have barely mentioned her."
"Let us talk of something else."
"0, Guy!"
As Stella made tlie latlcr exclamation, a sister of charity turned
the corner and brushed by them. She wore the habit of the Little
Sisters, and from under her long bonnet she gave the pair a searching
glance.
It was Laoni, who had just quitted Nathan's escort to return
to her new home. She would have accosted her friend, but the
circumstance of his being in such apparently intimate relations with
Stella startled even her Indian nature and produced sensations
which for the moment precluded utterance of words. Guy's company
was the girl who claimed the medal which he said he had lost. Was
Guy Raymond untruthful? Impossible! Yet this girl was hanging
upon his arm and owned the medal which she had given him.
"Was that one of the nuns?" he asked of Stella.
"Oh, no !" she replied. "They have a different dress. You saw
their habit at the Convent."
"Yes; but I took little notice of it."
"She who just passed is one of the Little Sisters of the Poor. A
pure Indian girl joined them this week; the same that Aunt Ida
mentioned in connection with her robbery. She was found in pos-
ion of my medal. Oh ! I must show \<>u my medal; the one Mr.
Trijig sent me."
"A medal? The old rn;ni mentioned it on his death bod nnd Ins
words impressed me, as I was *till deploring the loss of a medal of
498 GUY RAYMOND.
singular workmanship, which had been given to me by a very d
friend/'
The two had reached the Convent gate at this point of their co
versation, when Guy, whose mind was on the unopened communica-
tion from Beatrice in his pocket, excused himself to his sister, prom-
ising to call for her the next morning. He took a brisk gait down
the street and, when he had turned a corner, his hand sought the
note in his pocket.
Moving slowly he tore it open, then halting, he leaned against
a post of an awning and in a few momentvS knew its contents. As
he read, the warm blood colored his cheek; his hand trembled so
that the paper shook like a leaf, then his arm fell listless, while
the fingers crushed the missive in a clenched embrace.
His first words were uttered in a faltering voice :
"Was it love, or infatuation? Can she be worthy who could
write this stinging note, even with provocation ?"
He summoned to his support his calm philosophy.
Beatrice had manifested noble traits which had commanded his
admiration and inspired his love. He imagined she owned a force
of character which fortified her against hasty judgments. But here,
in his hand, was evidence of a morbid sensibility capable of mul-
tiplying the woes of life from the mere appearances of wrong. Yet,
could there be love without more or less selfishness permeating its
sensuous labyrinths? Any other love must be purely altruistic, and
had this latter love any existence? His mental inquiry was answered
by a mental picture. There were the outlines of a mountain, upon
whose side a female figure waved her hand to a receding horseman. A
little sigh escaped Guy's lips as his heart, sore with disappointment,
was touched with a tender memory of one true devotion which,
although never requited, yet burned with steady and undiminished
flame. Lost in his reflections, he passed the portals of the institu-
tion of the Little Sisters. One of the inmates lingered upon the
porch, watching him with interest. As lie passed, she followed him
with her eyes, while in low, familiar tones, she said :
"Oh, El Bravo ! You, too, are sad."
The night following Guy's receipt of Beatrice's note, George's
cafe had its accustomed quota of frequenters, who had gathered at
early lamplight to spend their small change in drinking or annipe-
MH'tit, or to lounge in the front, entertained by some news peddler
From among the denizens of the city, or listening i<> a yarn spun
by a loquacious sailor or longshoreman.
GUY EAYMOND. 499
Within the bar, George was just resting from an active dispen-
sation of drinkables, when a young man entered from an inner side
door and approaching him, said, in a*n undertone :
"They want you in there;" at the same time motioning with his
head in the direction of the door which had admitted him.
George made no reply, but followed the messenger. They both
disappeared through the side door. The room they entered was a
private apartment, maintained for purposes which would not admit
of the general presence of the public.
Around a table were several familiar faces. Guy sat facing the
door; on his right Hamilton posed, with an elbow on the table, while
his fingers combed the wavy locks about his brow. On the left
Manuel Euiz sat upright, with an easy grace, in contrast with the
ungainly make-up of Nathan Eoach, who bestrode a chair, while
his elbows rested upon its back to support the bony chin enclosed
within his palms. Perry came in with the ex-pirate.
Hamilton spoke :
"Mr. George, is Half en in the city?"
"I don't think he has left."
ere can he be found ?"
e has several hiding places, but I think he is generally at
No. Custom House street."
"Thaf s the place I spoke to you about," said Hamilton, addressing
Guy.
"He comes here often, does he not?" continued the Mississippian,
with the intonation of a cross-examiner of a witness.
"Not often now, but I expect him tonight."
Hamilton leaned over to Nathan and whispered something.
A gleam of intelligence illumined for an instant the features of
the latter, as he arose and spoke aside to George in a tone that did not
reach the ears of the others.
In another moment he resumed his seat, giving a nod to Hamilton,
he latter again interrogated the witness:
bu are ready to carry out all you promised in this matter we
ve against Ducio Half en?"
"I am, with the understanding that you gentlemen are to protect
me as you promised."
"We are pledged," replied Hamilton.
"That's what we are," exclaimed Nathan, stretching his legs and
clasping his hands behind his head. "We ain't arter yer scalp."
George was here dismissed.
"Now, Mr. Eoach," said Guy. "what is it that you have to show?"
athan cleared his throat and, rising, ran his hand into his deep
500 GUY RAYMOND,
pocket, from which he drew the prizes he captured in Ducio's room.
"What's in the bottle?" asked Ruiz, smiling at Nathan's manne]
"Pizen, I reckon. It's what He's feedin' his wife on."
Guy and Hamilton began to inspect the contents of the packages
and envelopes, and as they progressed they would hold up their
discoveries and pass remarks upon the evidence which each mutely
proffered of Ducio's villainy, or of his preparations to depart.
"This is a haul you've made, Mr. Roach, and no mistake," said
Guy.
"Who would have guessed such shrewdness lurked beneath an ex-
terior so verdant!" exclaimed Hamilton.
"Yes," responded Nathan; "comp'ny done it all. Peers to me
comp'ny is the biggest part of the bizness."
"What about the key of that safe, Mr. Eoach ?" asked Hamilton,
gravely imitating Guy in mistering the backwoodsman.
"Yer seen me talk to him when yer give me the sign. Well, he
sed he'll shore git it tonight ef Half en comes."
Ruiz wondered how he would manage that.
"Steal it; steal it," suggested Nathan. "Thief to ketch a thief."
"Well, what is to be the program?" asked Hamilton.
"As you are a lawyer," said Guy, "let us hear from you. You
are leading counsel in the case."
"Well, let us see. We must find the will. I will name the pro-
ceedings in their order:
"A search warrant ; arrest, if he can be found ; examination of his
house; examination of his safe, if the key is to be had ; dying declara-
tion of his wife or companion.
"If we progress this far, other steps will suggest themselves as
the case will unfold. An inventory of these papers and documeni
should be made and deposited for safe keeping, and then we c;
adjourn this meeting until some hour tomorrow, when we will be
possession of the search warrant and, possibly, the key, which Geoi
has agreed to produce."
An hour later the friends separated for their lodgings.
CHAPTER LXYIII.
Josefa still lingered in her sick room. The Little Sisiers li;
supplied her with the necessary attendance, which Ducio had fail<
to provide. Laoni was the most frequent watcher by her side. The
day after she had encountered Guy and Stella arm in arm. sho found
her patient much worse, and became convinced that the end was near.
rerr RAYMOND.
There were times, lasting for minutes, in which her mind was clear
and her pain would subside. In one of these intervals she requested
her attendant to summon the druggist who had been preparing the
tonic which she had been taking.
The errand was soon performed and the druggist of the vicinage
stood by her bedside.
"You have prepared the tonic which Mr. Halfen has been getting
for me?" Josef a asked.
"I have, madanie."
"What is the dose?"
"Ten drops."
"Could more be taken ?"
"It could be increased gradually/'
"What would be the effect of the tonic if administered from the
beginning in doses of a tablespoon full, more or less, three times a
day?"
"It would act like a slow poison."
"If one should so take it for two months?"
"It would be a powerful constitution that could withstand it so
long."
"Then I must have a powerful constitution, for I have taken it
in such doses for sixty days."
"The directions were plainly given."
"And he understood them. Oh, that villain !"
Josefa here passed into a semi-conscious state, muttering words
incoherent or unintelligible.
"Sister," said the druggist, "this Madame Halfen, where does
she come from ?"
"She says that she is a Mexican, and came here from San Antonio,
in Texas."
"Her maiden name was ?"
"I do not know it more than Josefa ; that is what he calls her."
"Josefa de la Torre! It must be the same. She is wasted, but
the voice I cannot forget. Poor Josefa! Sister, I was once her
father's secretary, and knew her when "
Confused sounds in the hall interrupted any further homily on
the part of the druggist, and Laoni, on opening the door, was con-
fronted by Nathan and a stranger.
"You. here ?" exclaimed Nathan.
r es ; it is my watch," she replied.
Jtill stickin' to 'em."
i at do you mean?"
"hort yer'd a tired of 'em and that audacious riggin' afore now."
502 GUY RAYMOND.
"Who is with you, and what is wanted?"
"This feller is a offisser and has a serch warrant to 'low us
ransack that room or any other place in this here house."
Laoni saw Guy Raymond among the others in the hall, and ii
mediately turned towards the sick bed to avoid being recognized.
The party took possession of Ducio's sanctum; the druggist took
his departure and the volunteer sister was left alone with her charge.
Josef a again rallied, and fixing her clear, dark eyes upon her
attendant, inquired for the druggist.
"He has gone," said Laoni.
"I never saw him before, yet his voice is so familiar."
"Laoni," she continued, "I wish to make a dying declaration. I
am nearly gone and I want to leave behind me evidence that will
avenge me upon my destroyer."
"You are too weak now. Don't think of it."
"But I will be no stronger ; this gradual sinking makes me weaker
with time."
"I will tell your wish to parties now in the house, who are search-
ing for something in his room."
Has it gone that far? I expected it. Ducio's career of crime
will not last much longer than the life he has wrecked."
A week has passed. In that short space much has transpired
affecting the actors in this now closing narrative.
Josefa died the second day after the execution of the search war-
rant, in the full possession of her mind. She was surrounded by
kind and pitying faces, among whom were Linda and her husband,
Manual Ruiz. Nathan also was in the room, visibly affected. Be-
side her was a priest of the Roman church. Bis benevolent
features seemed better fitted for the smile which one could not
fail to observe must often deepen the dimples of his cheek, than for
the troubled, anxious expression which clouded them. The reverend
attendant was Father Ignacio. His hope, when he received the sum-
mons to come to his sister's wayward child, was to reclaim her soul
at the last moment. But Josefa died as she had lived a skeptic,
refusing the last holy rites at the hands of her uncle. Laoni looked
on mutely at the efforts to overcome the unbelief of the niece, the
good Father little suspecting that the sisters' garb draped a person-
ality an i mji tod by a mind equally skeptical. Indeed, he frequently
called the sister to his aid when ho wished fo impress upon Josofn
the necessity of faith and repentance. But Laoni, silent, merely
GUY EAYMOND. 503
bent Jicr head, sorrier for the anxious uncle than for the dying niece,
who. six- believed, had suffered enough to more than balance the pains
of the alleged purgatory.
Guy and Hamilton were not present, hut armed with the last
declaration of Jbsefa, they were working to prevent the escape of
Ducin from the city. The search warrant had placed Guy in pos-
session of Mr. Trigg's will, which was found in the safe from which
X a than had abstracted the papers. But the wily Ducio had eluded
their traps and. rumor stated that he had fled to Texas.
Mrs. Raymond took exceptions to Guy's neglectful treatment, as
she termed it, of herself, he having called upon her but once, and
whisked off to her plantation. She did not forgive Beatrice for daring
to employ the Indian girl, and when she went to say good-bye to
Stella, she remarked that her brother and the Mexican girl were about
on a par and well matched.
But Beatrice! What of Beatrice!
For days after sending her note to Guy she had waited his ex-
pected coming to effect the reconciliation, which her communication
was intended to make more than probable. But her lover came not,
and she became convinced that he had never truly loved her, if the
memory of the unfortunate episode at their meeting could not be
effaced by the conciliatory and almost apologetic tone of her writ-
ing. Keen disappointment was followed by depressing, relentless,
lie,-! rtache as the dragging hours multiplied and yet he stayed. Wretch-
edness and humiliation succeeded, and would have leveled her to the
dust had not pride come to relieve with its bouyant, if not remedial
results. In a frame of mind that may be depicted frojn her woful
experience, Beatrice came face to face with the priest of San Fernando.
"Beatrice! Hija mia," were his first words.
"Father ! you here ?" was her reply as she placed her hand in that
of the priest.
"You have not heard ? Josef a is dead. I came in time to see her
pass away."
"I knew she was in the city, but her false step was a bar to our
intercourse. Of course I could not recognize her."
"We are all sinners in our own peculiar way, my child. Josefa
made a mistake a great mistake in fact, her whole life was a mis-
take ; but she had some good traits," pleaded Father Ignacio.
"Mistake mistake " repeated Beatrice, absent-mindedly. "Yes,
! made a mistake."
"You ? You have made one? What mistake, hija?"
"True! We were speaking of Josefa," said Beatrice, recovering
from her abstraction. "With the loss of virtue, what is woman?"
;r~
504 GUY RAYMOND.
"Yet," said the priest, "the Master never uttered a more fitting
rebuke than when he spoke the words 'Let him who hath no sin cast
the first stone at her/ ' ;
"No one is perfect," said Beatrice, only half addressing the father.
"Not even he."
"Halfen perfect! The question should be, has he a redeeming
trait?"
Beatrice blushed as she comprehended Father Ignacio's misinter-
pretation of her allusion to Guy.
"Tell me, father, when do you return to Texas?"
"The day after tomorrow, if nothing happens to prevent."
"I will go with you."
"You?"
"Yes I must I will."
"But, hija, I go by Red river ; a long and tedious way."
"It matters not. I must go, and I prefer your company."
"Well, hija, if you will; but let us walk; I am going to the Con-
vent, and you ?"
"To the same place."
As the priest and lady turned to move away, the eyes of a couple
across the street followed them, as if they were recognized. The
couple were not observed by Beatrice nor her escort, or the former
would have recognized the man to be her deliverer from the monkey's
assault, and the woman as her late maid and probable rival-
"Ef that aint' the Saint Antone priest!" exclaimed Nathan.
"The other is Miss Navarro," said Laoni.
"Yer don't know the preacher, then ?"
"He is a priest, from his dress."
"Yaas, that's so ; his name's Father Nash-sho, and he's sho' a f
to Guy Raymond."
"Is the name Ignacio?"
"That's what I sed."
"He took my part today."
"How?"
"You see I no longer wear the Sisters' dress."
"Yaas, I was a-goin' to ask yer. Yer've quit 'em?"
"The bishop told the sisters that he could not allow me to be o
of them even in name."
"Not 'low yer? He's got the say-so?"
"He was shocked at my lack of religion."
"So yer ain't got nun?"
"I*have plenty of religion, but I have not, it seems, the faith
GUY RAYMOND. 505
all their mysteries and miracles which they consider necessary for a
son to have, to escape punishment in eternal fire."
"It's a hot place, they say/"' said Nathan seriously.
"So the bishop, who is probably a good man in spite of his bigotry,
insisted I must put off the dress and be not allowed to assist them in
their good work."
"Well, it's better fur ye," said Nathan consolingly.
"And it seems/' continued Laoni, "that this Father Ignacio, who
heard the bishop's order, interceded for me."
"Jes' like him jes' like him; he almos' fit the night we took out
~Nr. Raymond. An' the bishop wouldn't lissen?"
"No, he feared I might do harm."
"Well, yer better off. Yer shan't want a frien's long as Nathan
Roach's got the wli ere with. Go back to Texis with me. I'm goin'
to stay home a day in Arkinsaw, an' then I pitches out fur Texis and
liberty. I'll interdoose yer to my ole mother. I've got bosses and
saddles, and Mister Raymond's ben liberal fur what I've done, an'
1 ain't pore by a jugfull. So, Miss Laoni, come, an' I'll fight fur
ye an' die fur ye, ef it comes to the scratch ; an' there ain't a man that
kin stan' an' charge Nathan Roach with cowardice an' not stickin' to
a promiss."
"Thanks many thanks, my friend. I will think it over. I am
going to say good-bye to the Sisters, and I did hope to see another
one who is dear to me but it may be better that I do not."
Laoni's face looked graver.
"Is it him El Bravo?"
"Oh! You remember."
|"Yaas; yer talked 'bout him so purty befo' he come over."
"I will speak well of him still. If I loved him, it was not on
condition that lie should think well of me. I loved him for his
beauty, for his bravery, for the noble words that flowed from his
lips and sounded more musical than the leaping, laughing waters of
our village fall."
"Has yer seen him?"
"Once; for some minutes."
"And ben here so long?"
"But so busy."
"'Scusin' of him?"
"But it is ;i fact/'
"I'll see him."
"Not a word, Nathan or I will answer you now about the trip
to Texas."
506 GrUY BAYMOND.
"An' say?"
"No."
"Then I'm dumb."
The two had been walking during this dialogue, anclr having
arrived opposite the house of the Little Sisters, Laoni bid her friend
good-bye, for the present, and entered the place.
Nathan's destination was the lodgings of his friend and benefactor
to whom he had alluded as having been so liberal. As his call was
>by appointment^ Guy was expecting him, and while waiting for
Nathan's appearance had been discussing with Manuel Euiz and
Linda the future movements of the party. Guy's heart was heavy
from the result of his meeting with Beatrice, but it made him all
the more assiduous in the duties which applied to his business affairs,
as increased activity in any direction would tend to lessen the heavy
weight of disappointment which his sweetheart's reception had created,
and which her subsequent communication intensified.
He had been urging the bridal couple to accompany him to New
York, where his purpose was to inaugurate an emigration movement
to the young nation whose star of existence had just risen above the
horizon of revolution. Manuel hinted that his friend should make
the trip his own bridal tour, in which event he would not suffer from
the selfishness of his and Linda's cooing. But Guy, without divulging
his trouble, gave him to understand that obstacles, more or I
serious, prevented such a consummation.
"We called twice, but failed to see her," said Manuel, alluding
to Beatrice.
Guy avoided the subject, and was relieved by the announcem
that Nathan was below.
He remained for quite a time in conference with his caller,
before finally dismissing him, walked by his side for a short distance
on the banquette. Nathan seemed to be very grateful, for he said :
"I'm more'n thankful fur this. I never calkerlated on so much."
"You have paid me in services; it is your due," said G
earnestly.
"An' Mr. Hamilton is yer settled with him?"
"No ; he left last night for his home in Mississippi, having recei
a hasty summons. I will take care of his interests though, and no
him by letter."
"Oh ! I knowed yer would. I was jes' thinkin' what a pile he
3h."
I
GUY RAYMOND. 507
must 'a' got, seem' how fine yer done with me. Perry's gone, too."
"I have half way adopted Perry. He was such a favorite of Mr.
Trigg. I sent him to Texas on business/*'
"All a-goin," said Nathan, with a sigh.
"And you, Nathan will you leave ' shortly ?"
"Shortly? I'll make a straight streak from here tomorrer; and
who do yer think is goin' with me?"
"I am at a loss to answer."
"Somebody that thinks a powerful sight of you."
"Of me?"
"Yaas," said Nathan, with a grin, and watching Guy's face.
"It cannot be Beatrice," thought Guy, rather worried. "I will
have to give up," he said, finally.
"Why, Laoni."
"Laoni!" exclaimed Guy, stopping short. "Has she not joined
the Sisters of Charity?"
"Yaas," replied the other, "but the bishop put her out 'cause why
she couldn't swaller their mirrowcles an' lemme see an' didn't
have no faith that's what she sed."
"Faithful to her first impressions," thought Guy. "My first les-
sons are bearing fruit that may make her lot a hard one."
"She. is going with you where?" he asked of Nathan.
"To Arkinsaw; then, after a day or so, to Texis."
"Well, Nathan, I can trust you," said Guy, pulling out his pocket-
book. "Here is a check on the bank, intended for Laoni. Draw the
money and use it for her benefit as long as she is with you. Should
you part, then give to her what remains unspent. Guard her as the
apple of your eye and never leave her until she is with friends.
Whatever of expense you may suffer, or trouble you may experience
in her cause, I will repay and reward you for. To her I owe my life."
Guy paused, then said aside:
"To her I owe the loss of Beatrice."
"Mister Raymond, yer kin trust Nathan Roach. He ain't skeered
of a Injun or a white, that walks the yearth. I'd give a purty ef
Laoni thort as much of me as she does of El Bravo as she calls
yer."
Guy started at the old name. It brought up so many thoughts
connected with that brave, true child of nature faultless and loving
Laoni.
Giving the backwoodsman some instructions about the check and
the amount, Guy bade him good-bye and turned back to his lodgings,
sadder than when he left them.
508 GUY EAYMOND.
CHAPTEE LXIX.
Reader, if it has been your fortune to breathe the atmosphere of
the isothermal belt which traverses the rolling uplands of Texas and
winds in and out the lesser "ranges of the mountains, during that
enchanting period that intervenes between the first chilling winds
of the ides of October and the more defined norther which ushers in
the last month of the year,, you doubtless will recall the balmy air,
laden with a bracing odor, that mingles its viewless fragrance with
the waves of heat ascending from the cooling earth. The smoky
line, bounding the view, lends density to the shadows, which a low
descending sun causes wood or mountain to form along its eastern
base. There is barely a touch of autumn in this southern picture.
Verdure still lingers with scarce a paling leaf to indicate the season.
Yet he to the manor born, though waking from a Rip Van Winkle
slumber, would take in the familiar view as the product of a Texas
Indian summer.
It was such an afternoon as this, about ten months succeeding
the incidents related in the preceding chapter, when the blue hills
and the head waters of the San Saba overlooked a more than ever
charming view of tableland and prairie, with mottes of timber nestling
in a bed of mist to the westward, while in the east they here and
there stood inverted by the mirage. The valley of the village where
Walumpta ruled was just the same, except a noticeable change in
the reconstruction of the huts and dwellings which succeeded their
destruction by the Rangers at the time they raided the Indians 5 nest
and captured Laoni. The grand mountain stood sentry, still as
familiar to the view as when Guy Raymond looked back to catch
the last parting signals from the faithful girl.
On the eastern hills which girded the valley the zig-zag path
crossed to the outer plain, still impeded by rock or tree trunk. Here,
on this afternoon, near the very spot where Guy and Pedro replaced
the fallen deer upon the latter's pony, the self-same Pedro and Chicha.
his spouse, were in conversation. The former was squatting prone
upon the ground, rolling a cigareta, while the squaw lay full length,
with her head resting upon a hand supported by her elbow. Between
them was a pile of meat, whose character was indicated by a fresh
buffalo calf skin that was all of a heap near Chicha's feet.
"You are a lazy squaw, Chicha. This is the third time you have
rested in a mile, and that, skin does not weigh a quarter as much as
these cuts of meat/' said Pedro, between the puffs from his freshly
lighted cigareta.
GUY EAYMOND. 509
"But you are stronger, and don't tire so quick," remonstrated
Chicha.
"Strange talk, for a squaw !" replied her lord. "I have spoiled
you, Chicha. If I had been a pure Indian you would be my drudge
and would have both skin and meat to pack. Your braves don't work.
My Mexican raising has left a soft spot for women, and therefore
you are rotten spoiled."
"But you are always mad if your tortillas are not hot, and an
Indian would not care," retorted Chicha.
"Very well. I'll take cold tortillas, then, without a grumble,
but you must pack brushwood and water and carry this meat. From
now on I'm an Indian husband."
"I'll tell Laoni of this," she replied, "and she will not brag on
you so much."
"Laoni! She is no longer Indian nor anything but American.
Even Wahimpta is almost heartbroken at the change. And then she
has no talk any more for El Bravo, but shakes her head and casts
down her eyes, as if for shame that she has forgotten him, when
one speaks his name."
"That'? where you are a fool. To have few words shows that
she has a heart for him, and her eyes go down in sorrow that he is
away."
"A woman is so wise in her own mind. Can't you see she loves
that ugly fellow who came back with her? He went yesterday out
on some sort of a scout, and she is now at the foot of the hills
watching for his return. She must love him but truly, not for his
beauty."
"Maybe it's the scout he's on that makes her watch, to hear his
report." suggested Chicha.
"Your wisdom will kill you yet, if laziness don't get ahead of it.
Come; shoulder the hide. The sun is nearly gone."
"And the meat must I pack it, too?"
"No ; but remember my tortillas they must be hot. Wait, Chicha,
here comes Laoni. Let her pass but not a word to her about the
water and brushwood."
Laoni was really at hand. She approached mounted upon a
spirited pony, with side-saddle and ornamented bridle, which looked
n'mnrkiiblv un-lndian. Her dress was a mixture. The corsage and
<kirt wen- AriM-ricnn, the latter short, however, revealing the fine
of her inocnssiii, while her dainty Indian cap surmounted
hliick tresses which fell in a plait down her back. Her face
wore an anxious, thoughtful expression, while she turned more than
510 GUY RAYMOND.
once to glance across the country or to address a word to an Indian
youth who,, also mounted, followed in the rear. Pedro greeted her.
"What, Pedro! Overloaded? You and Chicha both look tired.
Wallah will take the hide from Chicha, and then the meat divided
will he light for each."
Wallah, the Indian youth, reached for the hide with just an
audible grunt that might have meant a deal interpreted, while Chicha
indexed her satisfaction in her features.
"I know Pedro is good, and will not overburden you," Laoni con-
tinued, addressing the squaw. Then turning to Pedro, she said :
"Hasten to the village, good Pedro. I have something for you
to do, and the sun is now behind the western hills."
"Did you see him coming?" asked Pedro.
"Nathan? No; he had to cross the mountains, and will come by
the canon. He sent Wallah here to say as much."
Pedro's look indicated that he was puzzled as Laoni left them at
a sharp canter. He knew that something was troubling the daughter
of the chief, and that the ungainly Nathan had been dispatched on
some mission. Something must have happened while he was on the
hunt, and he was keen to meet his appointment with Laoni to satisfy
his curiosity. He questioned Wallah, but he would not admit that
he knew more than what had just been revealed. He had ridden
^with Nathan blindly and had returned with the news of his having
crossed the mountains and by what way he would return.
In order to explain Laoni's an*xiety and the character of the
mission on which she had dispatched Nathan Roach, it will be nec-
essary to revert to the incidents of the day before and to indulge
in a glimpse of retrospection.
The visit to Arkansas had been performed and Nathan, true to
his program, remained a very short time in his backwoods home.
In company with Laoni he made his way to Alexandria where,
through the munificence of Guy Raymond, he was enabled to procure
a complete outfit of light wagon and team, two saddle horses and
supplies for their subsistence. Laoni added some substantial pres-
ents for her father and some of his friends, besides many trinkets
calculated to please the squaws of the village. Thus equipped they
set out for their destination, where they arrived after many days,
which were not devoid of the perils incident to travel through a
wild territory. Nathan was in his element howevet, and Laoni had
GUY KAY.MONP. 511
not lost her Indian constitution amid the seductive elements of
white civilization. They therefore enjoyed a trip through haunts
where nature ruled unrestrained by human artifice,, and when
the village was reached, regret was only on the side of Nathan,, who
thought he would like it to last forever. Walumpta was overjoyed
lo see his child alive and well, but was jealous of an obvious change
in manner,, heightened by the metamorphosis in her costume. The
oll'ect of the presents which she brought somewhat counteracted this
feeling in the chief and certain Indians, while the trinkets for the
squaws gave them a day of unalloyed happiness. Nathan was de-
picted as a white brave commissioned by El Bravo to protect and
escort her to her friends, and to be indefinitely subject to her com-
mands. The first part of Guy's injunction was generally commended,
l)ii t the Indians considered Nathan's mission ended with her safe
return. The months which followed gave to the one a perpetual
round of the pleasures of frontier life, while Laoni, not free from
brooding over the past, and apprehensive for hor future, employed
her time in studying the interests of her tribe and trying to impress
her father with the importance of those economies calculated to
secure a more general prosperity to his people. Nathan's simple
nature was easily satisfied with his surroundings, and but one thing
troubled him.
He loved Laoni.
She had given him kindness friendship but there had never
been a look of love.
He had never broached his passion save by simple acts and a
devotion which she fully prized.
The day she sent him on a mission his reserve broke down, and
Nathan departed a confessed lover.
That day Laoni was in her lodge, resting from an early ramble-
on the mountain, when Wallah, an Indian youth faithful to her
in I < -rests, tipped softly into her presence.
She looked up with a question on her features.
"There is trouble in the village," he said, softly.
"rouble?" repeated Laoni. "Explain."
scout came in when the morning broke and brought a Ml or,
which he kept hid. but which I chanced to see. I heard your name,
then several of the leaders led him to the council room.- I followed,
and on^ping through the opening just behind the screen, 1 listonod
in tln-ir words. The braves were troubled. It seems the scout was
out two days from Bexar and came upon a camp of white men, which
ho boldly entered. He was surprised to find one who could speak
512 GUY KAYMOXD.
the words of our tribe, and found him to be El Bravo, whose life
you saved. All went well and El Bravo gave him presents, and feasted
him and gave him a letter to fetch to you."
"El Bravo sent, me a letter !"
"Hold ; a word more. The scout promised to put it in your hands,
but that night, when he was prepared to leave, two Mexicans
teamsters, for there are some wagons while talking by their camp
fire, spoke of this valley and the mine, and ho found that here
they are coming 1 with tools to go upon our mountain and work the
mine that I, a Lipan, am forbid to see. The scout, alarmed, slipped
from their camp and hastened here, and now they have your letter
and the news, which means death to the coming white men."
"Who has my letter?" exclaimed Laoni, rising.
"Be quiet, Laoni ; it will be worse if they know you have the
secret. For then a warning to the strangers may go too late."
"Wise Wallah! Your words are true. Oh! If I could see his
letter El Bravo's letter to Laoni. He coming! Shall I warn
him? If I do he will turn back and I not see him. If I do not
warn him Oh! Then there will be a battle and he may be killed
dead to Laoni but also dead to her. If he could be taken pris-
oner and brought here I could save him. But would he stay stay
here with Laoni away from her? Oh that I had a friend to
advise me! Wallah! ' Where is Nathan?"
"Just back from a hunt. He has killed enough game for the
whole village."
"Tell him Laoni wants him; be quick, Wallah; tell him to come at
once.'
"A message that will give him light heels," Wallah said as
hastened out.
"Poor, simple Nathan!" mused Laoni. "He loves me, and
been faithful to his promise to El Bravo; but the same cruel fate
which builds the wall between El Bravo and myself has raised
barrier that parts me from this faithful heart. Here he comes."
Nathan entered with a look of inquiry.
"You sent for me ?" he said, in Lipan.
"Speak English, Nathan; what we say the walls must not un<
stand."
"Well, what is it?"
Laoni related to him rapidly the intelligence brought by
scout; the fact that the council had it under consideration ; I In- danger
such an expedition must incur, when the sworn policy of the tribe
was to suppress the knowledge of the existence of the mine; the
GUY li.vYMoxi). 513
certain fate which must await fJuy Raymond in 1lie event of his
capture, should he have divulged the secret. Everything was dis-
cussed until Nathan was fully posted on the situation.
He stood mutely pondering its gravity.
"Have you no words for me?" she aske.d.
"A few," he replied.
"Well?"
"Turn 'em back, ef they'll go ; or ef not, warn 'em of the risk,
and ef they come anyhow, let it be with permission or a fight."
"Will you go to him, Nathan ?"
"I'll go to the crowd."
"To these men ?"
"Yaas."
"Now?"
"Eight off."
"flow will T over repa}' you, dear, good Nathan?"
"Pay me?"
"Reward you for your kindness."
"Laoni, I promised to |.ertect yer, and outside er that, I'd do it
anyhow, fur you have put a spell on me that I can't break. The only
pay that would hit the mark is to tell me that, when I git worthy,
yer will give me verself ; ind let me perfect yer till death. I'd have
a better right thru to ken- fur yer."
"It would he poor pay, Nathan."
"Why, if it suits me? Yer love (hiy Raymond; what good will
it do yer when he marries that gal in San Antpne?"
"Nathan, dear Nathan; save him for my sake. I do love him,
but if he marries Nathan then if you still love this poor girl,
and have still a wish to make me your wife I will not say no.
Laoni should not live in vain, and will not if by her sacrifice she
makes one heart happy."
"Dear Laoni !" exclaimed Nalhau, advancing a step.
"Let us he moving," she said, raising her hand deprecatingly.
"Go, Nathan; ride mv Eagle, and do not spare him. Find these
men and tell them of their danger. Tell El Bravo if he comes to
come alone and no harm will befall him; but. to come in force, even
with no intention to touch the mine, will now be dangerous. Take
Wallah with you, for you may have need of a messenger."
"Yer purity good on a plan, Laoni, but when it comes to foolin
injuns, then Nathan's some liis-elf. Trust me with the warnin'
of "em. hut ef tomorrow night, at furthest, a crowd goes out, it's
to Mi'-ej these fellers, and they'll go on news from scouts, fur I'll
lay a dozen of Vm has been put on the trail of \<}\ Bravo and his layout.
514 GUY RAYMOND.
Ef Wallah goes,, who will yer git to spy?"
"There is Pedro."
"Yaas, Pedro, but he's stupid."
"But willing."
"Well, I'm off. Good-bye, my gal," and Nathan's leave taking
would have been more affectionate, but Laonr's hand went up again,
and he satisfied himself by throwing his sentiment into a lingeri
glance as he backed out of her presence.
It was late when Pedro presented himself at Laoni's lodge to keep
his appointment, made that afternoon while she was returning from
a survey of the prairie in the hope of catching a glimpse of Nathan
returning from his mission.
Pedro had been her first medium through whom she had com-
municated, with Guy when he came a prisoner to the village, and
this fact formed a major portion of the sentiment which made him
a favorite. Her preference won his fidelity to her interests. She,
therefore, had no difficulty in enlisting him in any service.
"Why did you not come earlier?" inquired Lnoni.
"For good reasons/' replied Pedro.
"Let me hear them, good Pedro."
"Your lodge was watched,, and T waited until the young moon
went down."
"My lodge watched?"
"A report is in the village that you are sending news to the white
men, and that a letter is here from them to you. The council has
been together all day, and they would give a hundred buffalo skins
to know what the writing means."
"If they will bring it to me I will tell them every word,
letter is from El Bravo."
"El Bravo?"
"El Bravo."
"But there are others with him; and. Laoni, they say he has told
them the secret of the mountain."
"Go, Pedro, and learn if the council is still together. Spy into
what they say and do and when you are satisfied on what they have
decided, come at once and tell me. They will not suspect that your
stupid look hides a world of cunning."
Pedro leisurely left the lodge.
"His movements would not surely cause one to think well of
cunning," said Laoni, turning from a lingering look at the recedi
form of the Mexican.
"Watching me!" she continued. "Watching the daughter of
Walumpta! This secret of the mine has come to be a deep-sea
-
a
of
" rf
Grui if \ , \.'<>\i>. 515
superstition, when it might be used to benefit the tribe. Here comes
Wallah. Perhaps he has news for me."
The young Indian made his entrance in a quick, nervous manner.
"You have news, Wallah?"
"News, and strange news."
"Strange?"
"The council is closed, and a message is to be sent to El Bravo
and his friends to come to this village and be the guests of the Lipans."
"Is there no treachery behind this strange invitation, when it is
believed that they come to work the mine?"
"That is with the council," replied Wallah. "The braves are
not called together, and only four spies have left the village,"
"And El Bravo's letter to Laoni?"
allah shrugged his shoulders,
nd why watch this lodge?"
allah looked surprised.
edro said it," asserted Laoni, in reply to his look.
! o see who belongs to your council," suggested Wallah, with a
half humorous grunt.
Laoni walked excitedly to and fro for a moment, then said:
"Go, Wallah ! Tell Walumpta, my father, to come to Laoni. If
El Bravo is in danger I will know it, and I will know if the daughter
of the chief cannot be trusted to receive a letter from one who is
dearer to her than life."
CHAPTEE LXX.
ic rugged sides of a canon overhung a spring, which bubbled
from beneath a boulder, and sent a current of limpid water through
torturous turns until it expanded into a pebbled basin, then dis-
tributed itself into the shining quicksands, some yards further on,
at the mouth of the gorge. Here a flood of golden sunbeams came
across the unbroken prairie lighting the hillsides, in contrast with
the deep shadows cast, by the western acclivity around the precincts
of the spring and toning down the snow-white canvas that sur-
mounted the wagons of some campers, whose animals were drink-
ing at the basin or browsing, near at hand. There must have been
a dozen or more of individuals belonging to the party which had
selected the well known place as a proper camp in which to rest
after the fatigue incident to an all day travel over a country whose
roads were no more than horse trails. The faces of the groups
were decidedly American, save two or three whose owners were busy
516 GUY RAYMOND.
attending to the teams, and who spoke the musical words o
Mexican dialect. A group near the spring was' composed of seve
who, appearing to have no special duties to perform, were conversi
on some subject that elicited occasional sounds of merriment. On
of these, a large, fine looking fellow, with wavy locks and rather
flashy dress for the frontier, sat upon a camp stool and held in his
hand a flask of liquor, while he was entertaining his auditors with
the rehearsal of something which occasioned the laughter.
"But Hamilton," remarked another of the party; "you mu
acknowledge that Nathan is a rough diamond."
"I'll grant it, Guy," replied Hamilton. "A rough diamond of
the purest water, and I'd like to see the fellow very much."
"I think he's in the Indian country, and you may be gratified," re-
plied Guy.
"Do you know that I thought he was in love with that remarkable
Indian girl of yours. He could talk of no one else, at times, while
we were in Orleans. We have been running on so much that
we have forgotten our whiskey. There, Guy, take some, just to
counteract the effects of a change of water, you know."
"Just a little, Hamilton, as a stimulant; but I do not believe that
Laoni could ever care for Nathan more than she could for a faith-
ful friend," said Guy, Hamilton's digression not removing the effect
of the allusion to the backwoodsman's love.
"You think she is too much absorbed in her hero," said Hamilton,
laughing.
"No," said Guy, slightly coloring; "but Laoni is a remarkab
girl, as you said, and is far above the average woman of civilizatio
Nathan could hardly fill the void in such a woman's heart."
"You are in love with this paragon, I do believe. You will ha
a chance to pay homage to her virtues in a short time."
"I do believe there comes Ruiz! He said he would join us h
Yes; it is he," said Guy, waving his hat at an approaching party
of two horsemen.
A return salute confirmed him in his opinion.
A few minutes more and Manuel Ruiz dismounted near the
and threw his reins to his mozo.
"Welcome, amigo mio."
"Glad to see you, Manuel."
"Any news?"
"I've brought some mail for you fellows and it is in my sadd
bags; and news, yes, news you would never guess."
"Anybody married ?"
"Anybody dead?"
GUY RAYMOND. 517
"Old Santy fixing up an invasion?" asked Txarnes, who had come
up in time to greet Manuel.
"One guessed. fSome one is dead. But don't begin to look sorry,
for none here will regret it."
"Who can it be ?" asked one.
"And we won't regret it?" from another.
"You have not heard from Ducio?" said Hamilton.
"Ducio is the man. He is as dead as Hector."
"How?"
"Where?"
When ?"
"Be patient and I'll tell. Bonito, my wife's eccentric father,
always believed that Ducio robbed him of some of that gold in the
vault, and from the manner of his death I am convinced the old
fellow was correct. You know the quarters at the carcel have not
been occupied for a time, and any bold man could get into the place.
Well, one of the prisoners in your old cell, Guy, stated that he had
heard a noise under ground for two days like some one picking at
the foundations, when it suddenly slopped. Father Ignacio, think-
ing that something supernatural had happened in that vault, took
a notion to investigate the cause of the noises heard by the prisoner.
Well, he sent for me and, together, we made the exploration and
found a quantity of del) IMS scattered in every direction over the vault
floor, and one very large stone had fallen, together with a portion
of the arch, crushing the body of a man, portions of which shouvd
from under the mass. On clearing away the stones we recognized
the body as that of Ducio. He thought the treasure was still
secreted there, and lost his life in searching for it."
"Requiescat in pace," from Hamilton.
"Poor devil !" said Guy.
"D d villain !" concluded Manuel.
"Let us have the letters, Manuel ; I presume there is one or
more for each of us. I am dying to hear from Mississippi," said
Hamilton.
"Here they are," and Manuel produced a package from his bags.
"One for Hamilton, three for Guy and one for Karnes. And
here, Sir Raymond, is one handed to me to deliver to you. The
writing is no doubt familiar."
As Guy took the last, a more serious expression came over, his
features, and with no more than a glance, he transferred it to his
pocket.
He gave his attention to the other three, while Hamilton and
Karnes broke the seals of their communications. Hamilton ap-
518 GUY RAYMOND.
peared tickled at the contents of his letter, and once or twice laughed
outright.
"What amused you so in your letter, Hamilton?" asked Karne
as he folded his own and put it away.
"Something that Guy will be interested in," he replied.
"Well, let us have it. I am about through with my reading,'
replied Guy.
"How about the one in your pocket ?" queried Manuel.
"I'll read that at my leisure/' he remarked, developing a sligh
appearance of annoyance.
"Well, Guy, your Aunt Ida has went and gone and done it/'
"What does that mean, Hamilton?" asked Guy.
"She has married a youth, young enough to be her third son."
"The deuce!"
"And actually looked no more than twenty in her bridal robes."
"I thought she would go off in that way some day. One of my
three letters is from Perry. The boy is studying hard, and I am con-
fident that the money I will spend on his education will be well
invested."
Another of Guy's letters was from Stella. She had not heard
of her aunt's marriage. She mentioned the receipt of a letter from
Perry, and also alluded to his having called on her at the* Convent,
while passing through the city en route to college. Guy thought
he discovered between the lines of her writing a sentimental par-
tiality for Perry, which brought a smile to his face.
The third letter was from Father Ignacio, a friendly epistle
urging him to take care of himself and commending him to the
care of the Virgin, whose medal he had in his possession. It was
the medal restored to him by Stella, on the discovery that it was the
one which Laoni had given him.
"And the fourth letter? The one in his pocket unopened an
unread. He wandered away to himself and had time to glean its
contents before the fading twilight merged into the feebler light of
the young moon.
ft was from Beatrice.
From the unhappy day when she had dismissed her lover in anger,
she had suffered. Suffered first from suspicion, then from jealousy,
and at last from doubt as to what to attribute Guy's unyielding
displeasure. Since the supposed dispatch of her note, written in a
spirit of contrition and appealing for a reconciliation, she concluded
that no reparation on her part could appease the displeasure which
her hasty judgment had aroused. So the time wore on, and the
bea.utiful face grew pallid and serious, while she became a recluse to
:
'
LU VJT U.
eeiW
n
GUY "RAYMOND. 519
the world. She learned of Guv'* ivtnrn from the Slates, and then
that he had_ departed on an expedition to the Indian country. The
very day of his departure she was overhauling and destroying some
of the letters and papers in her escritoire, when she came across the
note which she supposed Guy had ror-eived from her. In a moment
the situation became plain to her. Two notes had been written ;
one severe and uncompromising, the other just the reverse. The
latter was still in her possession, therefore, the former had been sent
through mistake. She could not account for the substitution. From
Linda she learned that Manuel would follow the expedition in a day
or two, to overtake it at some designated point. She would write
to Guy in explanation and enclose him the note he should have re-
Jin New Orleans,
len her resolution had taken definite shape, she wrote as follows :
v>h, Guy ! I have discovered why I have not looked into your
dear face since that miserable day when you called and I acted so
hastily. I wrote you a note under the influence of passion, generated
by suspicion. When I read it over, I laid it aside and wrote the
one I enclose in this. Through a misfortune which I shall regret
throughout my life, I, by some means, sent you the first note, be-
lieving I was sending the second. In looking over some old letters
in my escritoire today, I discovered the second note (the one inclosed)
and in a moment the truth burst upon me, revealing the justice
oi your course all this time under the impression that I meant
all the other cruel note contained. You have my explanation. Can
you forgive? Can you forget? Can you return to the old love,
take up and reunite the severed thread of our happiness, forgetting
in a more perfect union the rupture which, while it has been like
a thorn in my heart, must have been painful to a noble nature like
yours? Manuel will hand you this. Your answer will constitute
my earthly happiness,, or be my living death.
Guy's musings over the contents of the letter were interrupted
by quite a commotion among the party he had recently quitted, and,
by the blaze of a newly-lighted fire, he descried the form of a
stranger. The latter's words, however, at once gave him away, and
Guy hastened to greet the new comer. Nathan had discovered their
c.amp and the more difficult part of his mission from Laoni had
been performed. He reserved the true statement of his errand until
he could detail it to the one in whom she was interested. Guy an-
ticipated trouble if the Indians imagined that they were bent on ex-
ploring the mine, with or withoui permission, but supposed that
Beatrice."
520
GUY RAYMOND.
his and Laoni's joint influence would deter them from open hostility
if the expedition could be shown to be entirely pacific.
Nathan's report, however, gave a serious aspect to any further
progress, or even a failure to retrace the steps already taken. The
word was passed at once to the men to look to their arms and have
them ready for service. A council of war w r as held, and by Nathan's
advice, a clump of timber and undergrowth situated an hour's
travel further on, was selected as a spot to be occupied the next
morning, where to await developments from the Lipans. Nathan
was sure they would not be along before the next day, and that the
party would have ample time to fix themselves snugly in their con-
cealed position. He and Karnes had fought Indians until to be
so engaged appeared like second nature. The disposition of the whole
force was, therefore, left to these two frontiersmen, and under their
direction, an early hour of the ensuing morning found the party
concealed in the motte of timber selected, the undergrowth completely
hiding men, animals and wagons from exterior eyes. The two direc-
tors then left to scout the country in advance in order to detect
any approach of Indians. To this! end they stopped in a point of
timber whch extended like a bold promontory into a boundless sea
of prairie, about six miles from the position of the main body.
Both men had been over the ground before.
"Golly ! This here's the place, Karnes."
"You're right, Nathe, and it's the last,"
"That's what; but Lordy ! couldn't we see 'em ef they was a
comin' ? It's a ten mile stretch to them ar hills."
"And it wouldn't hurt, Natho, if wo were a bit closer to them
same hills."
"Yaas, but don't yer see, Karnes, when they gits opposite this
motty country they is goin' to make straight fur this pint, fur they
can't see no more like they could where there ain't no mottes."
"You are right again, but we could fix our stand two miles closer
in that motte yonder."
"Yaas, honey! And ef yer'd want to run? The Injun no
more'n knee high wouldn't want a spy glass to see yer. Now, in
this here pint, when we see 'em, we kin take plenty time, and move
slow back on camp. They're bound to beat down through here to
find us, and not knowin' we're up to snuff, they'll jess drap right
on to the end of our rifles. Tell the truth, Karnes, I don't like to open
on them Lipans ; blamed ef they haven't done me right."
"Well, if they won't fight, we won't."
"Thar ! By jingo !" exclaimed Nathan.
"What; see 'em?"
up and
tie tack
J.IK
ton,,,
little d
GUY RAYMOND. .v,M
"Ef I know a Injun."
"I don't see a sign."
"Not on. the hills, man; here, not two miles one two three
four five six."
"N'nw I see; they are coming."
> \! They shore don't mean fight; us two could wallop that
crowd/ 3
"Let's move back. Nathe. We've at lea>t two miles of open prairie
to cross ahead of 'em and we'd better he going. There may he more
than six, for you remember they used to divide up and meet; divide
d meet as they went in the Trinity country."
ou don't 'spose I don't recoleck. They (cached me them
eks when I got this here arrer mark in my cheek. 1 was
watchin' in front watchin' in front when zip! came one er them
a- fernal arrers from behint and .stuck right here. Mebhe 1 didn't
git the devil's scalp that done it."
The scout- cleared the open prairie in time to he unobserved and
anew position for observation.
athe, there is only four DOW/ 5 said Karnes. pointing to four
ittle dark spots that would not have been noticed by an unpracticed
eye.
Nathan looked steadily for a moment in the direction indicated,
deliberately :
bur nothin'K
at do you mean. Nathe?''
hem's four more, ole fel'. Them six what we seed'll come
out of that pint or I don't know Injun w.ays. Don't yer see; tl'
bent on meeting 7 right here; they'd be fools else."
The correctness of Nathan's prediction having been confirmed by
the appearance of six mounted figures on the edge of the timber
they had left a short time before, the two friends watched them with
interest.
"See, Nathe. the rascals are looking at our tracks."
idn't I know they'd do it! Tell me 'bout Injuns!"
hey are making signals to the four,'' remarked Karnes.
o tell 'em 'bout them tracks, I reckon."
at'll they think, Nathe?"
now we're scouts."
V?"
9 fresh, conn' n' and goin'."
hen they'll know
hat we've saw 'em."
t's move."
522 GUY RAYMOND.
"I'm with yer."
"How'll them new fellows take it?"
"Speck some er their hair'll stand."
"Hamilton's all grit."
"And Guy Raymond ?"
"Oh; that's a sure thing. He's as good an Indian as you,
brave."
"He kin shoot. Recoleck that night in town when he tumbled
the greaser from the bridge by the light er his torch ?"
"Let's spur up, Nathe; we must get to our folks quick. Even
ten Indians must be prepared for."
In the camp every disposition had been made of the men, wagons
and animals according to Karnes' suggestions, under the direction
of Guy, and the return of the scouts was impatiently awaited. He
found good use for the picks and shovels in baring the ground
several feet in width around the edge of the motte on the south and
eastern f aces, completely clearing away the tall grass and dry .com-
bustible debris. Hamilton's curiosity was excited by this seemingly
unnecessary act and he asked Guy if he intended to dig a ditch and
throw up fortifications. Guy put some of the men to work cutting
green branches to interweave with the more scanty growth and more
thoroughly concealed their position. The day wore on, however, until
the sun had sunk low enough to cast the shadow of the motte far out
into the opening to the east, and still no Indians had appeared. The
discovery of the tracks of the scouts' horses must have decided the
Indians to a more prudential advance. Nathan was sure they had
a plot, and suspected they had a notion that the motte concealed tl
party, for its occupation was Indian tactics.
"They is bent on takin' night fur it," he remarked.
"Or waiting for reinforcements," suggested Guy.
"Mebbe so."
Night fell. The stars came out one by one, then the constel-
lations flashed and sparkled in the firmament. The camp was still
and tireless, and should the Indians come, they would have heard
no sounds to indicate the presence of the white men, unless they should
venture within a few yards of the motte and catch the sneezing of
a horse or the tones of low conversation.
Four sentinels were placed without the edge of the timber, well
concealed, in a recumbent position, in order to detect the form of a
crawling enemy. Nathan volunteered in this latter service for the
night, as he insisted that a greenhorn would never detect the snnko-
like movements of a Lipan warrior. Guy and Karnes took pl;x-<>s
at other points, determined to sit the night out in watching for the
GUY RAYMOND. 523
expectant foe. The former found a convenient log for a seat, from
which he could survey a quarter of the outside approach for a dis-
tance that embraced quite a sweep, as his eyes became accustomed
to the uncertain starlight. By his side lay a dog, whose head he
.occasionally stroked, half mechanically, half caressingly, as he peered
out into the darkness, or spoke to him in a low tone.
"Would you know her, Eolla? She was so kind to you. Do you
remember how she would pat your head when yon would put MM
ugly paw. on each of her shoulders? I was a long time away from
you, Eolla, but with all Father Ignacio's good treatment, you knew
your master and left him for n#>. Good Eolla, you would know
Laoni, too."
Eolla gave a low whine, then suddenly sniffing the air, he growled
fiercely.
"That means a good deal," said Karnes, coming over to Guy.
"Do you see anything?"
"Nothing.""
A shot from Nathan's rifle immediately followed Guy's reply.
The report of the piece bringing the men together in \\ huddle,
Karnes ordered all back to their posts. Nathan glided in on his
belly to reload and report what he had seen.
"A head bobbed up when the dog growled," he said, "end I blazed
away. They knows we're here; they smelt us out. I don't know
ei I got the imp or not; it's purty dark to aim."
A whiz of arrows and the crack of several rifles cut short Nathan's
report and he hastened to his post.
A yell as if from fifty throats followed the discharge.
"Waste no ammunition, men. Fire only when you see something
to shoot," shouted Guy.
Another discharge of rifles was answered by shots from the pieces
of Karnes and Nathan, who aimed at the places where they beheld
the flashes of two hostile guns.
Another yell and all was quiet during the next half hour.
Out upon the prairie a flame suddenly flashed up, then another,
and another, until a chain of fire encompassed two sides of the motte.
"I thought it would come," said Nathan.
"The cowards !" said Karnes.
"Now, Hamilton, you see why I cut the grass away, and made a
bare streak on three sides. I have lived with the Indians and know
their tricks."
"I see; I see," said Hamilton. "I'll make a note of that for
my literary work."
524: GUY EAYMOND.
"You will have plenty notes before this expedition ends/' said Guy.
"I don't know, Sir Guy. It looks like these redskins were about
to put a stopper on all my future acts,, and they include your biog-
raphy."
"A pity, Sir Tipton; but it will be a greater pity to be cheated
out of your forthcoming 'Jones in India.' ' ;
"Poor Jones; I'd almost given that up. You missed it by not
knowing the living man. I'm afraid his heirs and executors and
administrators would pounce on me for damages, in an action for
libel and defamation, if I should write half he told."
The roar of the fire, which now leaped high up, licking the air
with forked tongues, came down upon the wings of the wind, which
seemed to increase in velocity before the heat of the devouring
element. In a few minutes it had reached the motte. The majority
of the men were placed on either flank, to draw down upon any of
the enemy who might have approached those points to cut off the
anticipated fugitives from the timber. The long tongues of name
reached across the bare space and singed and twisted the leaves and
twigs; caused the animals to snort and tremble with fright; then
suddenly they failed for want of material, a nicker here and there
indicated a burning tuft, and the danger was over. On either hand
the fire swept by, and during the remainder of the night a bright
line told of its progress westward.
The failure of the attempt brought a yell of disappointment from
the Indians. Guy longed for daylight, feeling confidnt that he could
negotiate a peace treaty with the enemy. The danger of another
attack was, in the opinion of the leaders, over for the night, as the
cleanly burned ground afforded no hiding places for the creeping foe.
So all but two watches laid down to rest.
Guy and Rolla remained awake. The dog's uneasiness manifested
that he pretty well comprehended the situation. He lay at the feet
of his master with ears pricked and almost motionless. The strong
wind had abated its force and was reduced to a steady breeze, bear-
ing the fumes of the burnt prairie.
Suddenly the dog rose to his feet, and with nose upturned, rapidly
sniffed the air; then, whining as if for joy, he placed a foot upon
Guy's arm and licked his hand.
"I don't quite understand you, Rolla. What is the matter now?"
Rolla put up his other paw; took a sitting posture to more
squarely look into his master's face, whined and wagged his tail.
"You are certainly in a good humor, my dog. Has the enemy
left?"
GUY RAYMOND. 525
Roll a gave a law bark,, rose and frisked about, then, sniffing the
air again, sprang through the wall of undergrowth and disappeared.
"Is the dog crazy ?" muttered Guy, as he sprang up, as if to
recall him.
For once Holla's manifestations mystified his master. Before, he
had scented the Indians and growled his displeasure; this time the
scent -of something had made him decidedly happy and he appeared
to have deserted to the enemy. He called to Nathan for a solution
of this piece of canine acting, but for once that worthy was not in
n communicative humor. While still perplexed over his problem,
Guy's ear caught a familiar sound. Dwarfed by the distance, the
notes of a refrain confined to the monotones of Indian melody floated
in upon the breeze, bringing to his frame a strange sensation and to
his mind a dream-like consciousness of a portion of his experience,
wherein he recalled the stern barbarism and the weird customs of
the Lipans. The voice of the singer grew more distinct and the
words of the dialect partially clear to the now eager listener. The
chant was now remembered and the voice so unmistakable that Guy
mechanically parted the bushes in his front and exclaimed:
"Nathan! Nathan! The problem is solved. Holla left me to
go to Laoni. 'Tis she who is singing, and she sings to let me hear
it that I may know of her presence. Kolla found her out first and
went to her. Til warrant he is with her now."
"That thar is the peace chant she's singin' ef it's her and long
as it's her I reckon they means it." r
"I will answer it," said Guy.
"Blaze away, then/*
Guy waited a moment, then, in the rich, clear tones of his fine voice,
he took up the chant, and for the few moments he sang he was
surprised to find how readily the long unthought of words returned
to him. A clear bark from Rolla indicated that the dog was making
himself at home in his new company.
Finally, and against Nathan's advice, Guy determined to follow
the dog's example and find her whose voice had betrayed to him her
presence. Taking his rifle, he stepped lightly into the open prairie,
and in another moment the darkness shut him out from Nathan's
viow. Let the same mantle fall upon the interview, if one he had
with her, who loved him better than life, and who, if she were at
hand, was present to save him from threatening danger.
The changed conditions were soon known through the camp, and
ray dawn found the men astir and curious to know many things.
W'nat had wrought the change? Had there been any casualties?
34
526 GUY EAYMOND.
Had any terms been made as the basis of a truce?
Hamilton, having slept soundly after the fire \iad swept by,
completely in the dark, and endeavored to draw some light from
Nathan. But Nathan, from, some late cause, was dogged and did
not care* to be communicative.
"How did Guy know that they wanted a truce in good faith?"
was the last of fifty questions he had propounded to the rough
diamond.
"Oh, he heerd the gal sing, and knowed her voice," replied Nathan,
peevishly.
"Sing?"
"Don't yer know what singin' means?"
"But what made her sing?"
"Nobody. Ain't she her own boss? You is powerful ignerent
fur a feller what's ben to collige."
"I will have to surrender," said Hamilton, with a sigh.
"They ain't to be no s'renderin' on our side. Nathan Roach don't
s'render to Injuns."
"Good-bye, Nathe, I make profound obeisance to the unfathomable
depths of your innate stupidity."
"That's some of yer hog lattin, I reckon," was the rejoinder that
Nathan sent after Hamilton's retreating form.
CHAPTER LXXI.
Laoni was correct. The interview with her father, who responded
to her summons through Wallah, was a stormy one. The chief
owned to her that the contemplated invitation was a treacherous
move to get the parties in question into the power of the tribe.
Laoni's indignation knew no bounds. She hurled invective at
the infamous council, which she portrayed in the vilest colors, and
discanted on the probable prospects of her people with the drag of
such a contemptible body to make rules for them. She declared
that the deception should not be practiced nor an attack made upor
the white men who were coming. If her father had become too
tirnid to govern his tribe, she would take the authority out of his
hands. The council should be dissolved, for they were unfit to
advise the chief, and would render more valuable service by helping
the squaws to pack wood and water. She gave notice that if the
life of El Bravo was taken, or if he received bodily harm, the council
should answer for it with their worthless lives.
Walumpta was amazed at his daughter's words, but her man
fairly awed him and deprived him of language foi n-ply.
QCli
.
GUY EAYMOND. 527
He found words for expostulation, however, when Laoni sum-
moned Wallah, ;iiid directed him lo c;ill together the younger warriors
of the tribe,, who would not see the chiefs daughter insulted by a
set of cowardly old squaw men. She wanted the young men, the
braves of the Li pans, to come to Laoni's lodge before the sun.
Walnmpta knew his daughter's popularity and he knew that if she
raised fhe standard of revolt the flower of his people would flock to
it. He withdrew to warn the council and to advise a reconsideration
of the treacherous program.
Before the dawn Laoni was making her preparations. A black
mare, the favorite of her two horses, was caparisoned ready for her
to mount, and the morning twilight disclosed a goodly number of
the young Lipans assembled in front of her lodge. By the time the
sun appeared their strength was nearly a hundred. The bow and
arrow was their almost universal weapon, a rifle here and there
showing itself. Quite as many braves, mostly older men, had been
dispatched against the white expedition, and the present response
to Laoni's call had left the lodges of the village nearly bare of
active males. With their adherence, she was mistress, of the situa-
tion, and! she determined that the council should see it.
Laoni's hold upon the hearts of the Lipans was of the character
that springs from personal magnetism. Those qualities of mind and
heart, which, elevated her above her environment, had their effect,
without especial limit, and variously affected the elements that reflected
her peculiar distinction. A majority of the council could not con-
ceal their dislike for the chief's daughter, an ingrained jealousy of
innovation and a prejudice against any covenant with the whites,
causing them to view with impatience the popularity of Laoni. Other
of the older braves grounded their opposition in their aversion to
s<|iiaw rule. But the young warriors bowed to her influence, and
had only admiration and love for this princess of their tribe. Her
fine personality had much to do with the spell she had woven. The
summons of (he flower of the Lipan youth, by her messengers, meant
an extraordinary occasion and prepared them to make demonstrations
of fealty to her interests not in line with the usual stolidity of the
Indian.
A> she appeared, dressed in a handsome costume and adorned
with the significant plumes and paint of the war, the young braves
greeted her with grunts of approval. She mounted her mare with
eas<3 and grwe. and riding to the right and left through the crowd,
she surveyed them with an air of pride and satisfaction.
All eyes were centered on her in mixed admiration and inquiry,
and at length when she began to speak, her musical voice attracted
fort.
528 GUY RAYMOND.
the closest attention. Her exordium was a statement of her prese
grievance, and the wantonness of the council in attempting to
petrate a useless massacre. Her argument was an ingenious effo
Drawing gradually away from the Indian view of duty, she led her
auditors through byways, made fascinating by her subtile powers,
until they found themselves willing followers along the highway of
her own exalted altruism. She condemned her father's weakness, but
scored the council. Her peroration was an eloquent appeal, not for
herself, but for her people, for El Bravo, the adopted of the tribe,
whose blood had been shed in their defense, for a pacific policy
towards a people whose numbers were like the blades of grass in
the prairies. She had been among this people, in whom she had
much to admire, and much to condemn. She spoke of the secret of
the mine and showed how it could be utilized, for the benefit of the
tribe, by allowing it to be worked for a stipulated rental. She
announced her intention to go forth to the relief of the coming
expedition alone, if need be.
At the conclusion of her speech there were signs of approval on
every hand, and when she directed all in sympathy to follow her
as she rode away, there was not one warrior who hesitated. The
party filed through the avenues of the village, subjected to jeers from
some of the old men and squaws who were in sympathy with the
council. On the other hand, there were not wanting expressions
of approval and, among those who gave vent to them, none were
more demonstrative than Chicha and the Muja, as Pedro passed
in the line. When Laoni concluded that her demonstration had
produced the effect she desired, she gave the command to follow the
trail of the band which had left the night before in quest of the
white men. Two of the more experienced trailers were selected for
guides, and the party set out at a gallop with Laoni in the lead. It
was a long ride before them, and night had veiled the landscape
before they had any token of the vicinity of the band they were
trailing or of the whites to whose rescue they were hastening. It
might have been three hours to midnight when they saw a fire some
miles to the southeast. The party halted; then, as the flames beca
larger, they took the direction of the burning grass, and the fl
ponies went flying over the prairie.
To the Indian girl's quick perception there were chances th
the prairie fire had connection with her mission. The distant, glow-
ing point no sooner became their destination than her whole being
was nerved with the hope that she would not be too late to prevent
a collision. Her eyes were strained across the dark expanse, prompted
GUY EAYMOND. 529
by yearnings of the soul within, to leap forth and skim the visual
line. Her mood seemed to be communicated to her flying animal,
for she had distanced her followers, whose yells from the rear, as
they urged on their ponies, came unnoted to her ears.
The fire had become a long, bright line as Laoni approached, and
disclosed the motte of timber in its foreground encircled by the
fuming debris with here and there little spurts of flame, as greener
patches were succumbing to the devouring element.
A moment more, and her mare bounded aside to avoid a growth
of scrubby prairie oak, and against the bright- background she discried
the heads and shoulders of several Indians. At the instant of this
discovery she received a challenge, reined up her mare, and for the
first time realized that shejiad left her force behind.
Before she could reply to the challenge, her bridle rein was seized
and several forms surrounded her.
"Who among the Lipans dares to seize my reins after he has
seen that I am Laoni ?"
"If Laoni comes to undo the work of the council, then she will
find Pbnseca. has his orders."
"Ha! Ponseca! So, you would hold me prisoner if I say that
here, I command, awl that what the council has done shall be undone,
as the work of traitors to their tribe and rebels to their chief/'
"You command ! A squaw-chief \"
"Ponseca will find out who will command. Ponseca need not
put his ear to the ground to hear the noise of four hundred hoofs.
1 have outridden a hundred of the young warriors of our tribe
who will obey Laoni for Walumpta's sake, and for the glory of the
Lipans."
;"Is it glory to set brother against brother?"
"The folly of the council has done it. They have taken away
alumpta's power. The bold lion has been ca.ged and a pack of
ardly wolves have full sway."
"You have- come to help these white men who have already shed
blood of two of our warriors?" asked Ponseca, still defiant.
"I will not waste words, Ponseca. If you all had met death in
is cowardly work, who could be blamed but the council for sending
u; or yourselves, for coming?"
At this moment the followers of Laoni came up, arriving by
ads, and she was soon surrounded by them and their panting
ponies. Ponseca still irwni Testing obstinacy, Laoni directed that he
be disarmed and guarded ;m<l, if he became violent, to be tied. She
gave orders that tho baud, oprraling against the white men, should
530 GUY EAYMOND.
be at once assembled, and if any disputed her authority that they
be arrested and guarded. Those around her gave in their allegiance,
and from them she gleaned the operations of the day and night.
The two casualties on the Indian side amounted to no more th
wounds. She could not learn of any on the part of the occupan
of the motte. Knowing that it would be dangerous to approach the
latter before morning, she directed the Indians to seek repose, whi
she, Wallah and Pedro would watch over their slumbers. (
Ponseca and a few other malcontents were separately located an
guarded, the irate ex-commander giving vent to his spleen by taunt-
ing Laoni with love for the whites, and insinuating that she intended
to spend the night in the motte.
When everything was arranged to her satisfaction, she bade
Wallah and Pedro to accompany her on a tour of inspection. No
light now, but that of the stars. In the distance the prairie was still
burning, but a look at its paling blazes only rendered more indis-
tinct the contemplation of adjacent objects.
The trio reached a point opposite the position in the motte where
Guy and Nathan were placed and, finding the felled trunk of a
lone tree which had been uprooted in some storm, the girl seated
herself and bade her companions to follow her example, to take a
rest, and use their ears for any sounds that might come from where
El Bravo and his comrades lay in expectancy of attack.
"The breeze is wrong for that/' said Pedro. "It is blowing fro
us to them/'
"It is so close, though," said Wallah.
"About rifle shot," said Pedro.
"If you talk too loud," cautioned Laoni, "the breeze will take
your words to their ears. I wish to hear first from them, without-
letting them know that we are here. Listen ! A dog's bark ! Pedro,
that sounded like Eolla."
"It may be, but I can't tell one dog from another by his bark
"But I loved Eolla so."
"Because of El Bravo."
"Well, have it so. He was El Bravo's faithful friend."
"What is this?" exclaimed Pedro, as something rushed by
Laoni's words, uttered immediately after, answered his inquiry :
"Oh! Eolla, it was you. The breeze took my scent to you, a
you have come to see Laoni. Oh! Eolla! Is El Bravo well? Is
hurt? Good Eolla! To come to Laoni."
The dog whined his replies and nestled his head in her lap. She
caressed him for a while, m using on her proximity to one she so
loved, when an idea struck her.
1C
';
id
GUY EAYMOND. 531
"Pedro," she said. "I will sing the peace song which El Bravo
often made me sing for him when we would sit above the falls in
the evening. He will hear me, and know that if I am here, they
will not he attacked again."
"Sing it then," said Pedro, emphatically, and added : "You might
go where he is tonight if you would go singing tha^.''
"But I would not do that. Did you hear what that vile Ponseca
said ?"
"Oh ! Ponseca ! Ponseca ! I would not mind nim. Ponseca is
an old fool."
Not heeding- what Pedro said Laoni began to sing. Her voice, a
little low at first, rose as she proceeded, and sounded strange in the
stillness and darkness of the prairie. Rolla whined his approval,
as the song doubtless recalled the olden time when he chased the
rabbits and how, after his fruitless run, the still familiar voice
had guided him back to the spot where sat his master and the
singer.
Suddenly she ceased fro sing. Was it the echo of her words
which came back? No; the voice was rich and manly. El Bravo
had not forgotten. The words the air just as he sang them before
the day when that fatal raid determined their separation. Her head
bent forward over the dog which she caressed tenderly, as these
thoughts filled her mind. The stoical side of her nature gave way,
and tears fell upon Holla's upturned face. The girl lapsed into a
kind of ecstacy as she bent over El Bravo's faithful friend. The
thrill which coursed her being culminated when a gentle touch upon
her bowed head made her realize that Pedro had called her name.
When she looked up a smile was upon her face, for, by a mysterious
Iescience she knew that El Bravo stood before her.
"El Bravo, my life!" she said, in the Lipan dialect.
"Laoni ! Twice my savior !" he replied, in the same tongue.
He seated hi in self beside her and drew her head to his shoulder;
then, taking from his pocket a medal, he suspended it around her
neck. She took hold of it to see what it was and, by the feeling,
knew that it was her parting gift to him on the mountain side.
Again let the curtain fall upon this pair who represented, in
ir fullness, the purity and goodness of antipodal states of human
Tt was a gala day in the Indian village when Laoni made her
y with her little army, escorting the captured white men; cap-
red by the arts of pence and friendship. They arrived on the
cond day after the rescue, but the wagons of the expedition had to
left across the hills, as the valley was inaccessible to vehicles.
532 GUY BAYMOND.
Couriers had returned in advance of the main body and announced
the success of Laoni in gaining over nearly the entire -fighting force
of the village. Her courage and address were commented on, and
not a few, who violently opposed her the day before, were now ready
to welcome her. Walumpta, who had been the puppet of the council,
felt relieved by their downfall, but was not a .little chagrined that
he had not forestalled his daughters act. Laoni'-s first move, when
she brushed off the dust of her short campaign, was to call a meeting
of her adherents and announce the permanent dissolution of the old
council, and to appoint a new one, half of whom were selected from
the young men of the village and the other half from the middle-aged
and more experienced. Old men were entirely excluded. The chiefs
power was declared to be supreme in all matters not purely civil.
When Guy was preparing his outfit, to meet the demands of the
expedition, he laid in a large supply of presents for the Indians.
These were brought in from the wagons on pack animals or by
hand, and distributed. This proof of his pacific intentions made
him a greater favorite and furnished a strong excuse for Laoni's
revolutionary act. The presents even won over members of the old
cguncil. But a few rejected the new order of things, and disdained
to touch the presents offered to them. Among the more pronounced
of these was Ponseca. He was released by order of Laoni, with an
admonition to reconcile himself to what had happened. But Ponseca
sulked. He took himself to the hills and brooded over his disgrace.
Guy's quick eye noted this, and after failing to win him from his
mood, he warned Laoni that mischief was in the Indian's heart.
Under the new regime the injunction to keep away from the moun-
tain became dissolved by edict of the chief, ratified by the council,
and negotiations were entered upon between Walumpta and the
members of the expedition, looking to the reopening of the mine at a
future day, and the payment for the privilege an annual rental, to
be determined by the value of the yield, the rent to be approprial
to the use of the tribe.
Within the week the objects of the expedition had been attainec
and most of its members, freed for the present from further cares
in the matter, joined the Indians in hunts, or went about explorii
the wild country.
Guy passed his time visiting -old haunts and, in the evenings, he
would go with Laoni to the falls and sit upon the rock where he
took his first lessons from her in Lipan lore and language. They
enjoyed these occasions; Laoni drinking deeper, pcrlmps. from the
cup of their happiness. "Yd \vilh ihe sweet clniusjht there was a
GUY RAYMOND. 533
bitter that manifested itself in a melancholy alternating between the
trustful looks and bright smiles which she bestowed upon El Bravo.
One evening, when they had repaired to this favorite spot, Guy
mentioned the nearness of the time when he would return to San
Antonio and other points where his interests called him. On hearing
this Laoni remained silent for some moments, then asked:
"Will El Bravo stay long in San Antonio?"
"I cannot say," he replied, "as it will depend on some things
which may happen and which I cannot foresee."
"The humor of Beatrice for one," she .-aid, without looking up.
"That may be one thing."
Guy uttered this half reluctantly.
"Laoni hopes that she will make a good mate for El Bravo."
"Have you the medal?" asked Guy, anxious to, change the subject.
"Oh, yes," she said, abstractedly. "Laoni will wear it until El
Bravo goes, and then tben he will take it. How I wronged mv
Bravo when the medal came to me in that far away city, and ;i
pretty little girl claimed it. If 1 bad known that it was your sister
it would have saved me so many thoughts. Strange that the medal
found the way to her after it got lost."
"Strange, indeed! But it was all flu- result- of superstition. The
Mexican, captured by Stella's guardian, bought it from the monte
pio to protect him on his trip, and poor Mr. Trigg wanted Stella
to wear it so that the Virgin Mary would favor her."
Laoni heard, but her thoughts were not on the subject of the
medal or of the Virgin. She turned her eyes up to his and gave him
a long, earnest look; then translated it into language.
"El Bravo, when you go from this village you have seen Laoni
for the last time."
"Why so, dear Laoni?" he asked, taking up the hand which, in the
earnestness of her feelings, she had placed upon his knee. "You
have but to consent and you can go with me. I am able to take
care of you all your life."
She shook her head slowly, her sad expression yielding not an
iota at the generous offer.
"This is not a fit place for you," he continued. "Why not come
Avith me?"
"You say this and still remember our meeting when you called
see her instead of of me?"
"But our relations will be better understood."
n if this would be true in her her case what about <!>e
d ! Whai would your society world say? I would be scorned
534 GUY KAYMOND.
and you would be scandalized in that civilization where virtue
so rare that few will believe it has any existence. A liar thinks
no one tells the truth. A thief believes everybody will steal."
Her companion took a long breath, but did not reply.
"El Bravo is mistaken. This is a fit place for Laoni. In yo
civilization I would not be respected, without wealth, if my face was
fair like the face of your Beatrice, but as it is, my Lipan blood
would shut me out from your friends, the same as it deprives me
of the love I would die for."
"But Laoni has my love. Loving another does not raise the
mountain between us that your imagination has piled up. If I
love Beatrice, it does not take from my love for Stella it does not
lessen my deep love for Laoni."
"Yet it tears you from me. What to Laoni is this village these
mountains this pretty fall, when yon are gone gone from her
forever? This rock is no more than the one further down the ledge
only that here you have rested by her side and made the evenings
happy. Since you walked out from the flames and the claws of the
council you have been the mainspring of my life. Every move
every hope every resolve has been inspired by you. The nerve to
begin and carry to a successful end the fight with the old council
was rooted in my love. Failure would have cost me my life but
that was little thought of when yours was at stake. Success has
silenced my enemies, but it has not wiped out the revenge which
lurks in some of their hearts. Ponseca will never
Laoni's words were cut short by the report of a rifle. Immediately
succeeding the shot she placed her ha.nd to her side, and falli
towards Guy he caught her in his arms.
CHAPTER LXXII.
Of course Nathan's diversion, after things had quieted down
the village, was hunting and hunting by himself. He did not
believe in having company on such occasions. He wanted elbow
room always, and that was the reason he left Arkansas. He believed
a true frontiersman ought to emigrate when settlers got to crowd-
ing up within five or six miles of him. The day that Guy and
Laoni were having their affecting interview at the falls, Nathan
went out to kill a buffalo. An all day tramp around their watering
plnccs was fruitless in results, and Nathan was not in the best of
humors when he crossed the hills, contiguous to tin 1 mine, to enter
the valley from the northwest. Nathan's bad luck nettled him con-
Lias
7
;elv
GUY RAYMOND. 535
siderably, but he finally dismissed the subject and got to ruminating
on a diversity of things. Finally Laoni's half-way promise to con-
sider his pretensions, at some future time, occupied his mind. He
knew how she loved Guy, but hoped, with Guy's departure, she
would look favorably on his suit. He made quite a detour to enter
the \alle\- near the mountain, for that route would bring him by
the falls and he knew she would he there talking to Guy. Nathan
\\;is quite philosophical in his reflections about her attachment to
another, and resolved to await events. He trudged along, his crude
thoughts keeping no certain channel, hut swayed from the purpose
of his route by any and all objects that met his quick eye. ITe had
pas-ed the summit of the divide which separated him from the valley
and reached the head of a gorge running a zig-zag course down the
hills, terminating just below the bold, deep spring, whose waters
rushed foaming to the falls a few hundred yards below. He stopped
for a moment to decide whether to take the gorge itself or follow
its margin, to secure the better route to the edge of the stream. While
still undetermined he noticed, way down the hollow, the form of an
Indian. He carried a rifle and was following the bed of the gorge.
^'What's good fur a Injun is good fur me/' he thought, and at
once descended to the rocky bottom. His movement caused him to
lose sight of the Indian, but a moment later a turn brought him
into view. He had mounted to a high point on the bank nearer the
village and, half stooping, was peering over the tops of the young
growth that lined the hillside. Suddenly he crouched down and in
this position left the high bank, then bringing himself erect, he
walked on towards the spring, disappearing in one of the abrupt
turns. * I **& Ubnsy
"That's that ar scoundrel, Ponseca," said Nathan, "and he's arter
no good."
With Nathan's expressed conclusion, he mentally decided to watch
the had Indian and determine if it was a correct one.
Oh! Nathan Boach, if you would have only put certain facts
together facts that you knew and thought of the locality in which
this villain, of your own dubbing, was performing in this stealthy
manner, and then asked yourself why you had taken pains to cross
the hills near the falls, you would have guessed the crime he was
bent upon.
When Nathan next saw the Indian, whom he had recognized as
I'onseca, he had gained another high point much closer to the falls,
and was in the act of firing his rifle. The discharge of the gun
occurred in the same second,' and Ponseca fled across the gorge and
towards the mountain.
536 GUY EAYMOND.
ler his
"That deviPs shot sum 'un," said Nathan, "and I'll foller
trail fur luck, ef I is tired."
He pushed on rapidly now and took the fugitive's trial where
he left the gorge. Here he found a dim path which he must
necessarily take on account of the almost impenetrable character of
the growth on either side. The trailing was easy here, and Nathan
pushed on swiftly for a half mile, when he found himself out of
breath and almost out of the thicket. The latter ended a few yards
further, and the backwoodsman was shrewd enough to not leave it
before reconnoitering the open space beyond. He accordingly took
to the bushes and, on all fours, crept along until he secured a position
where, unobserved, he could sweep the opening with his eyes. He
was rewarded beyond his expectations. Ponseca had halted in a
little clump of mountain oaks near the rocky wall which shut in
the approach to the mine on the eastern side. He was in the act
of reloading his gun, which he went about the more leisurely as
he looked from time to time earnestly in the direction of the village.
"The stinkin' villain!" said Nathan, between his teeth. "My
Gawd!" he cried out, as a thought struck him. "Gawd a-mighty!
Ef he has done that! But I won't kill him. I'll jess break his
right arm, so he can't load, and then he's my meat. Ef he's done
that whew!"
Nathan drew a bead on his victim. The crack of his rifle fol-
lowed, and Ponsecn's right arm fell ; the ramrod with which he was
about to drive the bullet home dropping to the ground. Nathan
reloaded rapidly, and by the time the Indian had recovered some-
what from his astonishment and was endeavoring to get his gun
and rammer together, he was out of the bushes and in a full run
to follow up the advantage he had gained by making a prisoner.
Ponseca clubbed his piece with his solitary hand; then, bethinking
himself of his knife, he threw away the empty gun and furiously
flourished the other weapon.
Nathan could not help smiling when he thought how soon his
adversary would have to surrender his long knife.
"Ole Pawnsake," lie drawled out in the vernacular, "that ai
a-gwine to work."
Then in Lipan he ordered him to surrender or he would break
other arm.
The threat had no effect. On the contrary, Ponseca redoubl
his demonstrations and replied defiantly.
Nathan, seeing no alternative, shot the knife from his hand, dis-
abling that member also, then, springing on him, he felled him \\ii-
his clubbed rifle.
GUY "RAYMOND. 537
To tie the discomfited Indian was the work of the next few
minutes. This was done in the most artistic, frontier fashion, with
e buckskin strips, a supply of which Nathan always carried with
him. Knowing that he would have to drag or pack his prisoner,
Nathan concluded to leave him on the spot until he could learn
the extent of the mischief which had been done by Ponseca's shot.
Prophetic words ! "Ponseca will never " He will never for-
get. He did not forget.
Guy at first could not realize the situation. Laoni's subject and
its sadness had induced a reverie to which ,he had so far succumbed
as to only half digest her meaning. The fullness of his mind, trying
in devise some method to dissipate the cloud over hers, made him
nearly oblivious to his surroundings. The shot did not sufficiently
awaken him to connect the discharge with his companion's move-
ment. He gazed anxiously into her face. ' A look of pain then a
faint smile suffused her countenance. To his rapid inquiries she
held up a hand stained with blood.
"Ponseca did not forget/' she murmured slowly.
Guy's first idea was to stop the flow of blood until he could get
assistance. Before help was at hand he had done all in his power to
close the wound. A robe was made into a stretcher and stalwart
arms bore the wounded girl to her lodge. The news flew like wild-
fire and many were the young, fleet-footed braves who were soon
scouring the hills, seeking the assassin. Some of these met Nathan
just crossing the gorge on his return from where he had left his
bound prisoner. Directing them where to find him, he hastened
wi':h greater speed, now that he knew the enormity of Ponseca's crime.
His victim lingered for a day, declining to take the opiates
designed to relieve her of pain, for the reason that she did not wish
to lose consciousness. Her last words were addressed to Guy :
"It is better that it should be so. Laonr's life would be a bother
to El Bravo, but her memory will be easy to love."
Nathan, to whom she spoke several kind words of farewell, wept
like a child, and was compelled to leave the lodge to suppress his
notions. Karnes, Hamilton and Euiz stood in the background, their
moistened eyes showing that their sympathies were touched. Wal-
umpta, weighted with grief, had thrown himself prone upon the floor.
Pedro and Wallah and others who loved the dying girl stood without,
dejected and silent.
And Rolla sage dog! He knew thai some climax was at hand,
lie had crept in while Nathan was lameiilin^- and, with a whine,
liad placed one paw upon the couch, whi!< i he looked from one tearful
face to another.
538 GUY RAYMOND.
The last act was nearly played, and the curtain slowly droppii
whose fall would end the role of its most inirnsimg character,
descended slowly slowly in cadence with the failing pulse of tl
sufferer and when it touched the hoards : Laoni was dead !
CHAPTER LXXIII.
It was an evening in October. The old Mexican town of
Antonio was dull and still. The darkening dusk had not been
pierced by a ray of light from door or widow, save from the monte
pio's on the plaza and the Candelario's on Carcel street. . In the
latter resort, the proprietress was still dealing out chile con carne
and other Mexican dishes to the lovers of good eating, and on this
evening she was serving two of her most appreciative patrons.
One was the monte pio.
The other was Jose, the major domo. They sat vis-a-vis, watch-
ing the movements of the hostess as she placed their steaming dishes
upon the table.
Their conversation had evidently been interrupted by the appear-
ance of the dishes, for the monte pio resumed :
"You say Monday of next week?"
"Yes, amigo, on Monday; and it makes me sad to leave Bexar."
"But you are not obliged to go. Let el padre take care of
himself."
"Impossible, amigo. I belong to el padre, Ignacio. Where
goes, I must/'
"I was told that he was going to Mexico a month ago."
"So he was," replied Jose, (< nut you see, he loves the Senoril
Beatrice like his own child, and Senor Raymond like his own soi
and these two would have no one but el padre, Ignacio, to make them
husband and wife. To please them, he has waited over to do them up.
"Is the bridegroom here?"
"He came today." .
"They have been engaged for a long time. I wonder they di
not marry before this," said the monte pio, by way of gossip.
"There is a pretty little story about it," said Jose. "I heard
from el padre, Ignacio. In fact, I listened at the door when
and Senor Raymond were talking."
"Let's have it, Jose. I'm interested."
"You see," said the other, leaning over the table, "about a year
ago Senor Raymond's Indian sweetheart got killed, up in the Lipan
country. You remember, amigo, the time I sold you his pony and
>t ful
GUY RAYMOND. 539
out (it; well that was the time he came first from the Lipans, where
he had been a prisoner and Imd fallen in love with the chiefs
daughter. Well, she died a year ago, it is said, in Senor Raymond's
arms, and he promised, or vowed, or something, that he would not
marry for a year and a day."
"What is the day for?" interrupted his auditor.
"Quien sabe. Maybe some heretic superstition. You know the
senor is not a Catholic/ 7
"Well, go on."
"Where was I ? Oh, yes. It has been a year and a day since
she died the Lipan girl and Senor Raymond is here prompt enough,
ready to take the beauty of the Navarro family."
"And he marries?"
"The day after tomorrow."
aid will live at the Navarro's?"
Tot he. The senor is rich. El padre says he got a whole big
pot full of gold that some pirate told him how to find, and then
he owns half of Texas, I believe anyway he has leagues and leagues
of land."
"What has his pot of gold, or land, to do with his not living
with his father-in-law?"
"But he is going to the big gringo city, New York, for a time,
and is going to send out people to buy his land and to work some
mines he has found out."
"Ruiz has the mine," said the monte pio.
"Senor Raymond has nothing to do with that mine. There is
where he lost his Lipan sweetheart that he loved so well, and he
won't go back there."
"Ruiz will sink all Bonito's gold in that old Spanish mine," said
the monte pio.
"No; he is making it pny. When he came here a month
ago, after supplies, I asked that pretty gringo Nathan, they call
him how it was doing, and he told me they had struck a rich vein."
"Nathan?" said the monte pio. "I remember; I sold him a new
rifle to take back."
"Yes ; he does all the hunting and scouting for the mine workers."
At this moment, to the surprise of the two, Guy Raymond entered.
"Good evening," he said, pleasantly.
"I was just giving the monte pio a little history about you,"
said Jose.
"Ah !" said Guy. "I hope you put my best side forward."
"About your escape from the Lipans, when you sold your stuff to
540 GUY RAYMOND.
our ami go here and had a balance to your credit."
"The senor has a good one there now between us."
"And that is what I want to see you about," said Guy.
. "You can have it, senor, in ten minutes/'
"That's not it. In fact, I am going to let you keep it
while."
"How, senor?"
"Well, tomorrow morning I will call and fix up matters with you.
I want to leave a certain amount in your hands for Locaria Landina.
She used to live at Concepcion. She was kip-" 1 to my old guardian,
and nursed him after the fight there. She is i oor and needy and I
want to have a house built for her and the rost of the money kept
at interest for her, but in the morning I will have everything in
shape."
"You are a good man, senor," said Jose.
"Only trying to be just and grateful, Jose."
<c You will be leaving soon, senor?"
"Yes, for the Northern States, on business and pleasure."
"Is Perry in those states?" asked Jose.
"At college there. I will see him when I go on. He will finish
in seven months and be with you here in Bexar."
"Will you pass through New Orleans, senor?" asked the monte-
pio. "If you will, I would like you to take a small package to a
friend."
"With pleasure. I have to go there to get my sister, who will
go with us to the North."
"Jose," continued Guy, "you remember Hamilton?"
"That fine, big fellow?"
"Yes."
"I never could forget him."
"I saw him in New Orleans the other day. He is writing an
account of my adventures. He has made a fine character out of
his recollection of you."
"I always thought I would be famous," said Jose. "And he is
going to put it into a book?"
"Have it printed."
"Santa Maria!"
"There is one thing I wish to ask you, Jose; has Karnes
here lately?"
"Have you not heard, senor? He never got well, and died
the Rrnzos about a month ago."
GUY KAYMOND.
541
"He was a gallant fellow. Poor Karnes."
Two days later an ambulance with four mules attached stood in
front of San Fernando. Early mass had just concluded and the
congregation had dispersed, save a small knot of persons who stood
within the grand portal. They were taking leave of a couple who
had been pronounced husband and wife by Father Ignacio. The
pair were escorted to the ambulance, into which the gentleman
assisted the lady and then followed himself. The driver and a mozo
took the outside seat. The bride looked out as the vehicle moved
away and said:
"Now Linda, thftrnext time Manuel comes in from that old mine,
keep him here with-you until we return. Guy says we will be back
in three months/'
THE END.