CHAPTER XVII
PEDRO CABENZA
The Patriotic Legion of the Northern States was drinking mescal andgambling for the paper money Pasquale had issued and rolling about inthe dust with joyous whoops from each squirming mass. It was a happyLegion, though a dirty one. It let its chief do all the worrying abouthow it was to be fed and transported. Cheerfully it went its ragged way,eating, drinking, sleeping, card-playing, rolling in the dust of itsfriendly wrestling. What matter that many members of the Legion werebarefoot, that its horses were scarecrows, that gunnysacks and ends ofwires from baled hay and bits of frazzled rope all made contribution tothe saddles and bridles of the cavalry! Was Pasquale not going to takethem straight to Mexico City, where all of them would be made rich atthe expense of the accursed Federals who had trodden upon the face ofthe poor? Caramba! Soon now the devil would have his own.
A burro appeared at one end of the hot and dusty street. Beside theburro limped a man, occasionally beating the animal on the rump with aswitch he carried. The Legion took a languid interest. This was somefarmer from a hill valley bringing supplies to sell to the patrioticarmy. Would his wares turn out to be mescal or vegetables or perhaps aleggy steer that he had butchered?
As he drew nearer it was to be seen that a crate hung from one side ofthe burro. In it were chickens. Balancing this, on the other side, weretwo gunnysacks. Through a hole in one of these pushed the green face ofa cabbage. Interest in the new arrival declined. The chickens would goto the quarters of the officers, and cabbage was an old story.
When the burro was opposite the corral one of the sacks gave way with arip. From out of the hole poured a stream of apples upon the dusty road.That part of the Legion which was nearest pounced upon the fruit withshouts of laughter. The owner tried to fight the half-grown soldiersfrom his property. He might as well have tried to sweep back an oceantide with a broom. In ten seconds every apple had been gleaned from thedust. Within thirty more everything but the cores had gone to feed theLegion.
The vendor of food wailed and flung imprecations at his laughingtormentors. He cursed them fluently and shook a dirty brown fist at thecircle of troopers. He threatened to tell Pasquale what they had done.
A harsh voice interrupted him. "What is it you will tell Pasquale?"
The army began to melt unobtrusively away. The general himself,accompanied by Major Ochampa, sat in the saddle and scowled at thefarmer. The latter told his story, almost in tears. This was all he had,these chicken, cabbages, and apples. He had brought them down to selland was going to enlist. His Excellency would understand that he, PedroCabenza, was a patriot, but, behold! he had been robbed.
He was at any rate a very ragged patriot. There was a hole in his cottontrousers through which four inches of coffee-colored leg showed. Hisshoes were in the last stages. The hat he doffed was an extremelyventilated one.
Pasquale passed judgment instantly. It would never do for word to getout that those bringing supplies to feed his army were not paid fairly.
"Buy the chickens and the cabbage, Ochampa. Pay the man for his apples.Enlist him and find him a mount."
He rode away, leaving his subordinate to deal with the details. MajorOchampa was the paymaster for the army as well as Secretary of theTreasury for the Government of which Pasquale was the chief. His namewas on the very much-depreciated currency the insurgents had issued.
Until recently Ochampa had been a small farmer himself. He bargainedshrewdly for the supplies, but in Cabenza he found a match. The manhaggled to the last cent and then called on Heaven to witness that hehad practically given away the goods for nothing. But when the sergeantled him away to enlist he was beaming at the bargain he had made.
Cabenza became at once an unobtrusive unit in the army. He could lie forhours and bask in the sunshine with the patient content of the Mexicanpeon. He could eat frijoles and tortillas week in and week out, offeringno complaint at the monotony of his diet. He was as lazy, as hopeful,and as unambitious as several thousand other riders of the Legion.Nobody paid the least attention to him except to require of him the notvery arduous duties of camp service. Presently Pasquale would move southand renew the campaign. Meanwhile his troopers had an indolent, easytime of it.
On the evening of the day after his enlistment Pedro Cabenza strolledacross toward the prison where he had been told two Americans were heldcaptive. Two guards sat outside in front of the door and gossiped.Cabenza, moved apparently by a desire for companionship, indifferentlydrifted toward them. He sat down. Presently he produced a bottlefurtively. All three drank, to good health, to the success of therevolution, a third time to the day when they should march, victoriousinto the great city in the south.
They became exhilarated. Cabenza found it necessary to work off hisexcitement upon the prisoners. He stood on tiptoe, holding the windowbars in his hands, and jeered at the men within.
"Ho, ho, Gringos! May the devil fly away with you! Food for powder--foodfor powder! Some fine morning the general will give orders and--we shallbury you in the sand by the river. Not so?" he scoffed in his ownlanguage.
One of the Americans within drew near the window.
"Listen," he said. "Do you want to earn some money--ten--twenty--onehundred dollars in gold? Will you take a letter for me to Los Robles?"
"No. The general would skin me alive. I spit upon your offer. I throwdirt upon you."
Cabenza stooped, in his hand scooped up some dust from the ground, andflung it between the bars.
One of the guards pulled him back savagely.
"Icabron! Know you not the orders of the general? None are to talk withthe Gringos. Away, fool! Because of the drink Pablo and I will forget.Away!"
Cabenza showed a face ludicrously terror-stricken. The punishments ofPasquale were notoriously severe. If it were known he had broken thecommand he would at least be beaten with whips.
"I did not know. I did not know," he explained humbly, thrusting theliquor bottle at one of them. "Here, companero, drink and forget that Ihave spoken."
He turned and scurried away into the darkness.