X
THE RANSOM OF DON RAMON MORA
On the southern slope of the main tableland which divides the watersof the Nueces and Rio Grande rivers in Texas, lies the old Spanishland grant of "Agua Dulce," and the rancho by that name. Twice withinthe space of fifteen years was an appeal to the sword taken over theownership of the territory between these rivers. Sparsely settled bythe descendants of the original grantees, with an occasional Americanranchman, it is to-day much the same as when the treaty of peace gaveit to the stronger republic.
This frontier on the south has undergone few changes in the last halfcentury, and no improvements have been made. Here the smuggler againstboth governments finds an inviting field. The bandit and the robberfeel equally at home under either flag. Revolutionists hatch theirplots against the powers that be; sedition takes on life and findsadherents eager to bear arms and apply the torch.
Within a dozen years of the close of the century just past, thisterritory was infested by a band of robbers, whose boldness has hadfew equals in the history of American brigandage. The Bedouins of theOrient justify their freebooting by accounting it a religiousduty, looking upon every one against their faith as an Infidel, andtherefore common property. These bandits could offer no such excuse,for they plundered people of their own faith and blood. They wereMexicans, a hybrid mixture of Spanish atrocity and Indian cruelty.They numbered from ten to twenty, and for several months terrorizedthe Mexican inhabitants on both sides of the river. On the Americanside they were particular never to molest any one except those oftheir own nationality. These they robbed with impunity, nor did theirvictims dare to complain to the authorities, so thoroughly were theyterrified and coerced.
The last and most daring act of these marauders was the kidnapping ofDon Ramon Mora, owner of the princely grant of Agua Dulce. Thousandsof cattle and horses ranged over the vast acres of his ranch, and hewas reputed to be a wealthy man. No one ever enjoyed the hospitalityof Agua Dulce but went his way with an increased regard for its ownerand his estimable Castilian family. The rancho lay back from the riverprobably sixty miles, and was on the border of the chaparral, whichwas the rendezvous of the robbers. Don Ramon had a pleasant home inone of the river towns. One June he and his family had gone tothe ranch, intending to spend a few weeks there. He had notifiedcattle-buyers of this vacation, and had invited them to visit himthere either on business or pleasure.
One evening an unknown vaquero rode up to the rancho and asked for DonRamon. That gentleman presenting himself, the stranger made known hiserrand: a certain firm of well-known drovers, friends of the ranchero,were encamped for the night at a ranchita some ten miles distant. Theyregretted that they could not visit him, but they would be pleased tosee him. They gave as an excuse for not calling that they were drivingquite a herd of cattle, and the corrals at this little ranch wereunsafe for the number they had, so that they were compelled to holdoutside or night-herd. This very plausible story was accepted withoutquestion by Don Ramon, who well understood the handling of herds.Inviting the messenger to some refreshment, he ordered his horsesaddled and made preparation to return with this pseudo vaquero.Telling his family that he would be gone for the night, he rode awaywith the stranger.
There were several thickety groves, extending from the main chaparralout for considerable distance on the prairie, but not of as rank agrowth as on the alluvial river bottoms. These thickets were composedof thorny underbrush, frequently as large as fruit trees and of adensity which made them impenetrable, except by those thoroughlyfamiliar with the few established trails. The road from Agua Dulceto the ranchita was plain and well known, yet passing through severalarms of the main body of the chaparral. Don Ramon and his guidereached one of these thickets after nightfall. Suddenly they weresurrounded by a dozen horsemen, who, with oaths and jests, told himthat he was their prisoner. Relieving Don Ramon of his firearms andother valuables, one of the bandits took the bridle off his horse, andputting a rope around the animal's neck, the band turned towards theriver with their captive. Near morning they went into one of theirmany retreats in the chaparral, fettering their prisoner. What thefeelings of Don Ramon Mora were that night is not for pen to picture,for they must have been indescribable.
The following day the leader of these bandits held severalconversations with him, asking in regard to his family, his childrenin particular, their names, number, and ages. When evening came theyset out once more southward, crossing the Rio Grande during the nightat an unused ford. The next morning found them well inland on theMexican side, and encamped in one of their many chaparral rendezvous.Here they spent several days, sometimes, however, only a few of theband being present. The density of the thickets on the first andsecond bottoms of this river, extending back inland often fifty miles,made this camp and refuge almost inaccessible. The country furnishedtheir main subsistence; fresh meat was always at hand, while theircomrades, scouting the river towns, supplied such comforts as werelacking.
Don Ramon's appeals to his captors to know his offense and what hispunishment was to be were laughed at until he had been their prisonera week. One night several of the party returned, awoke him out of afriendly sleep, and he was notified that their chief would join themby daybreak, and then he would know what his offense had been. Whenthis personage made his appearance, he ordered Don Ramon released fromhis fetters. Every one in camp showed obeisance to him. After holdinga general conversation with his followers, he approached Don Ramon,the band forming a circle about the prisoner and their chief.
"Don Ramon Mora," he began, with mock courtesy, "doubtless youconsider yourself an innocent and abused person. In that you arewrong. Your offense is a political one. Your family for threegenerations have opposed the freedom of Mexico. When our people wereconquered and control was given to the French, it was through thetreachery of such men as you. Treason is unpardonable, Senor Mora. Itis useless to enumerate your crimes against human liberty. Living asyou do under a friendly government, you have incited the ignorant torevolution and revolt against the native rulers. Secret agents of ourcommon country have shadowed you for years. It is useless to deny yourguilt. Your execution, therefore, will be secret, in order that yourco-workers in infamy shall not take alarm, but may meet a similarfate."
Turning to one of the party who had acted as leader at the time of hiscapture, he gave these instructions: "Be in no hurry to execute theseorders. Death is far too light a sentence to fit his crime. He isbeyond a full measure of justice." There was a chorus of "bravos" whenthe bandit chief finished this trumped-up charge. As he turned fromthe prisoner, Don Ramon pleadingly begged, "Only take me before anestablished court that I may prove my innocence."
"No! sentence has been passed upon you. If you hope for mercy, it mustcome from there," and the chief pointed heavenward. One of the bandled out the arch-chief's horse, and with a parting instructionto "conceal his grave carefully," he rode away with but a singleattendant.
As they led Don Ramon back to his blanket and replaced the fetters,his cup of sorrow was full to overflowing. Oddly enough the leader,since sentence of death had been pronounced upon his victim, was theonly one of the band who showed any kindness. The others were brutalin their jeers and taunts. Some remarks burned into his sensitivenature as vitriol burns into metal. The bandit leader alone offeredlittle kindnesses.
Two days later, the acting chief ordered the irons taken from thecaptive's feet, and the two men, with but a single attendant, whokept a respectful distance, started out for a stroll. The bandit chiefexpressed his regret at the sad duty which had been allotted him, andassured Don Ramon that he would gladly make his time as long as waspermissible.
"I thank you for your kindness," said Don Ramon, "but is there nochance to be given me to prove the falsity of these charges? Am Icondemned to die without a hearing?"
"There is no hope from that source."
"Is there any hope from any source?"
"Scarcely," replied the leader, "and still, if we could satisfy thosein authority over
us that you had been executed as ordered, and ifmy men could be bribed to certify the fact if necessary, and if youpledge us to quit the country forever, who would know to the contrary?True, our lives would be in jeopardy, and it would mean death to youif you betrayed us."
"Is this possible?" asked Don Ramon excitedly.
"The color of gold makes a good many things possible."
"I would gladly give all I possess in the world for one hour's peacein the presence of my family, even if in the next my soul was summonedto the bar of God. True, in lands and cattle I am wealthy, but themoney at my command is limited, though I wish it were otherwise."
"It is a fortunate thing that you are a man of means. Say nothing toyour guards, and I will have a talk this very night with two men whomI can trust, and we will see what can be done for you. Come, senor,don't despair, for I feel there is some hope," concluded the bandit.
The family of Don Ramon were uneasy but not alarmed by his failureto return to them the day following his departure. After two days hadpassed, during which no word had come from him, his wife sent an oldservant to see if he was still at the ranchita. There the man learnedthat his master had not been seen, nor had there been any droversthere recently. Under the promise of secrecy, the servant was furtherinformed that, on the very day that Don Ramon had left his home, aband of robbers had driven into a corral at a ranch in the _monte_ aremudo of ranch horses, and, asking no one's consent, had proceeded tochange their mounts, leaving their own tired horses. This they didat noonday, without so much as a hand raised in protest, so terrifiedwere the people of the ranch.
On the servant's return to Agua Dulce, the alarm and grief of thefamily were pitiful, as was their helplessness. When darkness set inSenora Mora sent a letter by a peon to an old family friend at hishome on the river. The next night three men, for mutual protection,brought back a reply. From it these plausible deductions were made:--
That Don Ramon had been kidnapped for a ransom; that these bandits nodoubt were desperate men who would let nothing interfere with theirplans; that to notify the authorities and ask for help might end inhis murder; and that if kidnapped for a ransom, overtures for hisredemption would be made in due time. As he was entirely at the mercyof his captors, they must look for hope only from that source. Ifreward was their motive, he was worth more living than dead. This wasthe only consolation deduced. The letter concluded by advising themto meet any overture in strict confidence. As only money would beacceptable in such a case, the friend pledged all his means in behalfof Don Ramon should it be needed.
These were anxious days and weary nights for this innocent family. Thefather, no doubt, would welcome death itself in preference to the rackon which he was kept by his captors. Time is not considered valuablein warm climates, and two weary days were allowed to pass before anyconversation was renewed with Don Ramon.
Then once more the chief had the fetters removed from his victim'sankles, with the customary guard within call. He explained that manyof the men were away, and it would be several days yet before he couldknow if the outlook for his release was favorable. From what he hadbeen able to learn so far, at least fifty thousand dollars would benecessary to satisfy the band, which numbered twenty, five of whomwere spies. They were poor men, he further explained, many of themhad families, and if they accepted money in a case like this,self-banishment was the only safe course, as the political society towhich they belonged would place a price on their heads if they weredetected.
"The sum mentioned is a large one," commented Don Ramon, "but it isnothing to the mental anguish that I suffer daily. If I had time andfreedom, the money might be raised. But as it is, it is doubtful if Icould command one fifth of it."
"You have a son," said the chief, "a young man of twenty. Could he notas well as yourself raise this amount? A letter could be placed in hishands stating that a political society had sentenced you to death, andthat your life was only spared from day to day by the sufferanceof your captors. Ask him to raise this sum, tell him it would meanfreedom and restoration to your family. Could he not do this as wellas you?"
"If time were given him, possibly. Can I send him such a letter?"pleaded Don Ramon, brightening with the hope of this new opportunity.
"It would be impossible at present. The consent of all interested mustfirst be gained. Our responsibility then becomes greater than yours.No false step must be taken. To-morrow is the soonest that we canget a hearing with all. There must be no dissenters to the plan or itfails, and then--well, the execution has been delayed long enough."
Thus the days wore on.
The absence of the band, except for the few who guarded the prisoner,was policy on their part. They were receiving the news from the rivervillages daily, where the friends of Don Ramon discussed his absencein whispers. Their system of espionage was as careful as their methodswere cruel and heartless. They even got reports from the ranch thatnot a member of the family had ventured away since its master'scapture. The local authorities were inactive. The bandits would playtheir cards for a high ransom.
Early one morning after a troubled night's rest, Don Ramon wasawakened by the arrival of the robbers, several of whom wereboisterously drunk. It was only with curses and drawn arms that thechief prevented these men from committing outrages on their helplesscaptive.
After coffee was served, the chief unfolded his plot to them, with DonRamon as a listener to the proceedings. Addressing them, he said thatthe prisoner's offense was not one against them or theirs; that atbest they were but the hirelings of others; that they were poorlypaid, and that it had become sickening to him to do the bloody workfor others. Don Ramon Mora had gold at his command, enough to giveeach more in a day than they could hope to receive for years of thisinhuman servitude. He could possibly pay to each two thousand dollarsfor his freedom, guaranteeing them his gratitude, and pledging torefrain from any prosecution. Would they accept this offer or refuseit? As many as were in favor of granting his life would deposit in hishat a leaf from the mesquite; those opposed, a leaf from the wild canewhich surrounded their camp.
The vote asked for was watched by the prisoner as only a man couldwatch whose life hung in the balance. There were eight cane leavesto seven of the mesquite. The chief flew into a rage, cursed hisfollowers for murderers for refusing to let the life blood run in thisman, who had never done one of them an injury. He called them cowardsfor attacking the helpless, even accusing them of lack of respect fortheir chief's wishes. The majority hung their heads like whipped curs.When he had finished his harangue, one of their number held up hishand to beg the privilege of speaking.
"Yes, defend your dastardly act if you can," said the chief.
"Capitan," said the man, making obeisance and tapping his breast,"there is an oath recorded here, in memory of a father who was hangedby the French for no other crime save that he was a patriot to theland of his birth. And you ask me to violate my vow! To the wind withyour sympathy! To the gallows with our enemies!" There was a chorusof "bravos" and shouts of "Vivi el Mejico," as the majoritycongratulated the speaker.
When the chief led the prisoner back to his blanket, he spokehopefully to Don Ramon, explaining that it was the mescal the men haddrunk which made them so unreasonable and defiant. Promising toreason with them when they were more sober, he left Don Ramon with hissolitary guard. The chief then returned to the band, where he receivedthe congratulations of his partners in crime on his mock sympathy. Itwas agreed that the majority should be won over at the next council,which they would hold that evening.
The chief returned to his prisoner during the day, and expressed ahope that by evening, when his followers would be perfectly sober,they would listen to reason. He doubted, however, if the sum firstnamed would satisfy them, and insisted that he be authorized to offermore. To this latter proposition Don Ramon made answer, "I amhelpless to promise you anything, but if you will only place me incorrespondence with my son, all I possess, everything that can behypothecated shall go to satisfy your demands. Only let it b
e soon,for this suspense is killing me."
An hour before dark the band was once more summoned together, withDon Ramon in their midst. The chief asked the majority if they had anycompromise to offer to his proposition of the morning, and received anegative answer. "Then," said he, "remember that a trusting wife andeight children, the eldest a lad of twenty, the youngest a toddlingtot of a girl, claim a husband and a father's love at the hands of theprisoner here. Are you such base ingrates that you can show no mercy,not even to the innocent?"
The majority were abashed, and one by one fell back in the distance.Finally a middle-aged man came forward and said, "Give us fivethousand dollars in gold apiece, the money to be in hand, and theprisoner may have his liberty, all other conditions made in themorning to be binding."
"Your answer to that, Don Ramon?" asked the chief.
"I have promised my all. I ask nothing but life. I may have friendswho will assist. Give me an opportunity to see what can be done."
"You shall have it," replied the chief, "and on its success dependsyour liberty or the consequences."
Going amongst the band, he ordered them to meet again in three daysat one of their rendezvous near Agua Dulce; to go by twos, visitthe river towns on the way, to pick up all items of interest, andparticularly to watch for any movement of the authorities.
Retaining two of his companions to act as guards, the others saddledtheir horses and dispersed by various routes. The chief waited untilthe moon was well up, then abandoned their camp of the last ten daysand set out towards Agua Dulce. To show his friendship for his victim,he removed all irons, but did not give freedom to Don Ramon's horse,which was led, as before.
It was after midnight when they recrossed the river to the Americanside, using a ford known to but a few smugglers. When day broke theywere well inland and secure in the chaparral. Another night's travel,and they were encamped in the place agreed upon. Reports which themembers of the band brought to the chief showed that the authoritieshad made no movement as yet, so evidently this outrage had never beenproperly reported.
Don Ramon was now furnished paper and pencil, and he addressed aletter to his son and family. The contents can easily be imagined.It concluded with an appeal to secrecy, and an order to observein confidence and honor any compact made, as his life and libertydepended on it. When this missive had passed the scrutiny of thebandits, it was dispatched by one of their number to Senora Mora. Itwas just two weeks since Don Ramon's disappearance, a fortnight ofuntold anguish and uncertainty to his family.
The messenger reached Agua Dulce an hour before midnight, and seeinga light in the house, warned the inmates of his presence by the usual"Ave Maria," a friendly salutation invoking the blessings of thesaints on all within hearing. Supposing that some friend had a wordfor them, the son went outside, meeting the messenger.
"Are you the son of Don Ramon Mora?" asked the bandit.
"I am," replied the young man; "won't you dismount?"
"No. I bear a letter to you from your father. One moment, senor!I have within call half a dozen men. Give no alarm. Read hisinstructions to you. I shall expect an answer in half an hour. Theletter, senor."
The son hastened into the house to read his father's communication.The bandit kept a strict watch over the premises to see that nodemonstration was made against him. When the half hour was nearly up,the son came forward and tendered the answer. Passing the complimentsof the moment, the man rode away as airily as though the question wereof hearts instead of life. The reply was first read by Don Ramon, thenturned over to the chief. It would require a second letter, whichwas to be called for in four days. Things were now nearing the dangerpoint. They must be doubly vigilant; so all but the chief and twoguards scattered out and watched every movement. Two or three townson the river were to have special care. Friends of the family livedin these towns. They must be watched. The officers of the law were themost to be feared. Every bit of conversation overheard was carefullynoted, with its effects and bearing.
At the appointed time, another messenger was sent to the ranch, butonly a part of the band returned to know the result. The sum whichthe son reported at his command was very disappointing. It would notsatisfy the leaders, and there would be nothing for the others. Itwas out of the question to consider it. The chief cursed himself forletting his sympathy get the better of him. Why had he not listenedto the majority and been true to an accepted duty? He called himself awoman for having acted as he had--a man unfit to be trusted.
Don Ramon heard these self-reproaches of the chief with a heavy heart,and when opportunity occurred, he pleaded for one more chance. Hehad many friends. There had not been time enough to see them all. Hislands and cattle had not been hypothecated. Give him one more chance.Have mercy.
"I was a fool," said the chief, "to listen to a condemned man's hopes,but having gone so far I might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb."Turning to Don Ramon, he said, "Write your son that if twice the sumnamed in his letter is not forthcoming within a week, it will be toolate."
The chief now became very surly, often declaring that the case washopeless; that the money could never be raised. He taunted hiscaptive with the fact that he had always considered himself above hisneighbors, and that now he could not command means enough to purchasethe silence and friendship of a score of beggars! His former kindnesschanged to cruelty at every opportunity; and he took delight inhurling his venom on his helpless victim.
Dispatching the letter, he ordered the band to scatter as before,appointing a meeting place a number of days hence. After the returnof the messenger, he broke camp in the middle of the night, notforgetting to add other indignities to the heavy irons already on hisvictim. During the ensuing time they traveled the greater portionof each night. To the prisoner's questions as to where they were hereceived only insulting replies. His inquiries served only to suggestother cruelties. One night they set out unusually early, the chiefsaying that they would recross the river before morning, so that ifthe ransom was not satisfactory, the execution might take place atonce. On this night the victim was blindfolded. After many hoursof riding--it was nearly morning when they halted--the bandage wasremoved from his eyes, and he was asked if he knew the place.
"Yes, it is Agua Dulce."
The moon shone over its white stone buildings, quietly sleeping in thestill hours of the night, as over the white, silent slabs of a countrychurchyard. Not a sound could be heard from any living thing.They dismounted and gagged their prisoner. Tying their horses at arespectable distance, they led their victim toward his home. Don Ramonwas a small man, and could offer no resistance to his captors. Theycautioned him that the slightest resistance would mean death, whilecompliance to their wishes carried a hope of life.
Cautiously and with a stealthy step, they advanced like the thievesthey were, their victim in the iron grasp of two strong guards, whilea rope with a running noose around his neck, in the hands of thechief, made their gag doubly effective. A garden wall ran within a fewfeet of the rear of the house, and behind it they crouched. The onlysound was the labored breathing of their prisoner. Hark! the cry ofa child is heard within the house. Oh, God! it is his child, his babygirl. Listen! The ear of the mother has heard it, and her soothingvoice has reached his anxious ear. His wife--the mother of hischildren--is now bending over their baby's crib. The muscles of DonRamon's arms turn to iron. His eyes flash defiance at the grinningfiends who exult at his misery. The running noose tightens on hisneck, and he gasps for breath. As they lead him back to his horse, hisbrain seems on fire; he questions his own sanity, even the mercy ofHeaven.
When the sun arose that morning, they were far away in one of theimpenetrable thickets in which the country abounded. Since his captureDon Ramon had suffered, but never as now. Death would have beenpreferable, not that life had no claims upon him, but that he nolonger had hopes of liberty. The uncertainty was unbearable. Thebandits exercised caution enough to keep all means of self-destructionout of his reach. Hardened as they were, they noticed that
their lastracking of the prisoner had benumbed even hope.
Sleep alone was kind to him, though he usually awoke to find hisdreams a mockery. That night the answer to the second demand wouldarrive. A number of the band came in during the day and broughtthe rumor that the governor of the State had been notified of theirhigh-handed actions. It was thought that a company of Texas Rangerswould be ordered to the Rio Grande. This meant action, and soon. Whenthe reply came from the son of Don Ramon, he was notified to have themoney ready at a certain abandoned ranchita, though the amount, nowincreased, was not as large as was expected. It required two dayslonger for the delivery, which was to be made at midnight, and to beaccompanied by not over two messengers.
At this juncture, a squad of ten Texas Rangers disembarked at thenearest point on the railroad to this river village. The emergencyappeal, which had finally reached the governor's ear, was acted uponpromptly, and though the men seemed very few in number, they weretried, experienced, fearless Rangers, from the crack company of theState. There was no waste of time after leaving the train. The littlecommand set out apparently for the river home of Don Ramon, distantnearly a hundred miles. After darkness had set in, the captain of thesquad cut his already small command in two, sending a lieutenantwith four men to proceed by way of Agua Dulce ranch, the remaindercontinuing on to the river. The captain refused them even pack horseor blanket, allowing them only their arms. He instructed them tocall themselves cowboys, and in case they met any Mexicans, to makeinquiries for a well-known American ranch which was located in thechaparral. With a few simple instructions from his superior, thelieutenant and squad rode away into the darkness of a June night.
It was in reality the dark hour before dawn when they reached AguaDulce. As secretly as possible the lieutenant aroused Don Ramon'swife and sought an interview with her. Speaking Spanish fluently, heexplained his errand and her duty to put him in possession of all thefacts in the case. Bewildered, as any gentlewoman would be underthe circumstances, she reluctantly told the main facts. This officertreated Senora Mora with every courtesy, and was eventually rewardedwhen she requested him and his men to remain her guests until her sonshould return, which would be before noon. She explained that he wouldbring a large sum of money with him, which was to be the ransom priceof her husband, and which was to be paid over at midnight withintwenty miles of Agua Dulce. This information was food and raiment tothe Ranger.
The senora of Agua Dulce sent a servant to secrete the Ranger's horsesin a near-by pasture, and with saddles hidden inside the house, beforethe people of the ranch or the sun arose, five Rangers were sleepingunder the roof of the _Casa primero_.
It was late in the day when the lieutenant awoke to find Don Ramon,Jr., ready to welcome and join in furnishing any details unknown tohis mother. The commercial instincts of the young man sided with theRangers, but the mother--thank God!--knew no such impulses and thoughtof nothing save the return of her husband, the father of her brood.The officer considered only duty--being an unknown quantity to him.He assured his hostess that if she would confide in them, her husbandwould be returned to her with all dispatch. Concealing such thingsas he considered advisable from both mother and son, he outlined hisplans. At the appointed time and place the money should be paid overand the compact adhered to to the letter. He reserved to himself andcompany, however, to furnish any red light necessary.
An hour after dark, a messenger, Don Ramon, Jr., and five Rangers setout to fulfill all contracts pending and understood. The abandonedranchita in the _monte_--the meeting point--had been at one time astone house of some pretensions, where had formerly lived its builder,a wealthy, eccentric recluse. It had in previous years, however, beenburned, so that now only crumbling walls remained, a gloomy, isolated,though picturesque ruin, standing in an opening several acres inextent, while trails, once in use, led to and from it.
When the party arrived within two miles of the meeting point, anhour in advance of the appointed time, a halt was called. Under thedirection of the lieutenant, the son and his companion were to proceedby an old trail, forsaking the regular pathway leading from Agua Dulceto the old ranch. The Ranger squad tied their horses and followed arespectful distance behind, near enough, however, to hear in case anyguards might halt them. They were carefully cautioned not even to letDon Ramon, if he were present, know that rescue from another quarterwas at hand. When the two sighted the ruin they noticed a dim lightwithin the walls. Then, without a single challenge, they dashed up tothe old house, amid a clatter of hoofs, and shouts of welcome from thebandits.
The messengers were unarmed, and once inside the house were madeprisoners, ironed, and ordered into a corner, where crouched Don RamonMora, now enfeebled by mental racking and physical abuse. The meetingof father and son will be spared the reader, yet in the young man'sheart was a hope that he dared not communicate.
The night was warm. A fire flickered in the old fireplace, and aroundits circle gathered nine bandits to count and gloat over the bloodmoney of their victim, as a miser might over his bags of gold. Thebottle passed freely round the circle, and with toast and taunt andjeer the counting of the money was progressing. Suddenly, and with aslittle warning as if they had dropped down from among the stars, fiveTexas Rangers sprang through windows and doors, and without a worda flood of fire frothed from the mouths of ten six-shooters, hurlingdeath into the circle about the fire. There was no cessation of therain of lead until every gun was emptied, when the men sprang back,each to his window or door, where a carbine, carefully left, awaitedhis hand to complete the work of death. In the few moments thatelapsed, the smoke arose and the fire burned afresh, revealing theaccuracy of their aim. As they reentered to review their work, two ofthe bandits were found alive and untouched, having thrown themselvesin a corner amid the confusion of smoke in the onslaught. Thus theywere spared the fate of the others, though the ghastly sight of sevenof their number, translated from life into death, met their terrorizedgaze. Human blood streamed across the once peaceful hearth, whilebrains bespattered life-sized figures in bas-relief of the Virgin Maryand Christ Child which adorned the broad columns on either side ofthe ample fireplace. In the throes of death, one bandit had flounderedabout until his hand rested in the fire, producing a sickening smellfrom the burning flesh.
As Don Ramon was released, he stood for a few moments half dazed,looking in bewilderment at the awful spectacle before him. Then as thetruth gradually dawned upon him,--that this sacrifice of blood meantliberty to himself,--he fell upon his knees among the still warmbodies of his tormentors, his face raised to the Virgin in exultationof joy and thanksgiving.