CHAPTER TWELVE.
"DO YOUR DARNDEST."
During all this time--only a few seconds it was--the four men within thecell preserved silence; the dwarf, as the door alone was drawn open,having said to the gaol-governor: "_Buenas Dias Excellenza_! you'recoming to set us free, aren't you?"
A mere bit of jocular bravado; for, as might be supposed, the deformedwretch could have little hope of deliverance, save by the gallows, towhich he had actually been condemned. A creature of indomitable pluck,however, this had not so far frightened him as to hinder jesting--ahabit to which he was greatly given. Besides, he did not believe he wasgoing to the _garota_. Murderer though he was, he might expect pardon,could he only find money sufficient to pay the price, and satisfy theconscience of those who had him in keeping.
His question was neither answered nor himself taken notice of; theattention of those outside being now directed upon the other occupantsof the cell. Of these only two had their faces so that they could beseen. The third, who was the reputed robber, kept his turned towardsthe wall, the opened door being behind his back; and this attitude hepreserved, not being called upon to change it till Santander had closedhis conversation with Cris Rock and Kearney. He had opened it in ajaunty, jeering tone, saying--
"Well, my brave Filibusters! Is this where you are? _Caspita_! In aqueer place and queer company, too! Not so nice, Senor Don Florencio,as that you used to keep in the Crescent City. And you, my TexanColossus! I take it you don't find the atmosphere of the Acordada quiteso pleasant as the fresh breezes of prairie-land, eh?"
He paused, as if to note the effect of his irony; then continued--
"So this is the ending of the grand Mier Expedition, with the furtherinvasion of Mexico! Well, you've found your way to its capital, anyhow,if you haven't fought it. And now you're here, what do you expect,pray?"
"Not much o' good from sich a scoundrel as you," responded Rock, in atone of reckless defiance.
"What! No good from me! An old acquaintance--friend, I ought rather tocall myself, after the little scene that passed between us on the shoresof Pontchartrain. Come, gentlemen! Being here among strangers youshould think yourselves fortunate in finding an old comrade of thefilibustering band; one owing you so many obligations. Ah! well; havingthe opportunity now, I shall try my best to wipe out the indebtedness."
"You kin do your darndest," rejoined Rock in the same sullen tone. "Wedon't look for marcy at your hands nosomever. It ain't in ye; an if 'twar, Cris Rock 'ud scorn to claim it. So ye may do yur crowing on adunghill, whar there be cocks like to be scared at it. Thar ain't neeryone o' that sort hyar."
Santander was taken aback by this unlooked-for rebuff. He had come tothe Acordada to indulge in the luxury of a little vapouring over hisfallen foes, whom he knew to be there, having been informed of all thathad befallen them from Mier up to Mexico. He expected to find themcowed, and eager to crave life from him; which he would no more havegranted than to a brace of dogs that had bitten him. But so far fromshowing any fear, both prisoners looked a little defiant; the Texan withthe air of a caged wolf seeming ready to tear him if he showed but astep over the threshold of the cell.
"Oh! very well," he returned, making light of what Rock had said. "Ifyou won't accept favours from an old, and, as you know, tried friend, Imust leave you so without them. But," he added, addressing himself moredirectly to Kearney:
"You, Senor Irlandes--surely you won't be so unreasonable?"
"Carlos Santander," said the young Irishman, looking his _ci-devant_adversary full in the face, "as I proved you not worth thrusting with mysword, I now pronounce you not worth words--even to call you coward,--though that you are from the crown of your head to the soles of yourfeet. Not even brave when your body is encased in armour. Dastard! Idefy you."
Though manifestly stung by the reminder, Santander preserved hiscoolness. He had this, if not courage--at least a knack of feigning it.But again foiled in the attempt to humble the enemy, and, moreover,dreading exposure in the eyes of the gaol-governor--an old _militario_--should the story of the _steel shirt_ come out in the conversation, hedesisted questioning the _Tejanos_. Luckily for him none of the othersthere understood English--the language he and the Texans had used intheir brief, but sharp exchange of words. Now addressing himself to thegovernor, he said--
"As you perceive, Senor Don Pedro, these two gentlemen are oldacquaintances of mine, whose present unfortunate position I regret, andwould gladly relieve. Alas! I fear the law will take its course."
At which commiserating remark Don Pedro smiled grimly; well aware of thesort of interest Colonel Santander took in the pair of prisonerscommitted to his care. For the order so to dispose of them he knew tohave come from Santander himself! It was not his place, nor was he thekind of man to inquire into motives; especially when these concerned hissuperiors. Santander was an officer on the staff of the Dictator,besides being a favourite at Court. The gaol-governor knew it, and wassubservient. Had he been commanded to secretly strangle the two menthus specially placed in his charge, or administer poison to them, hewould have done it without pity or protest. The cruel tyrant who hadmade him governor of the Acordada knew his man, and had already, asrumour said, with history to confirm it, more than once availed himselfof this means to get rid of enemies, personal or political.
During all this interlude the robber had maintained his position andsilence, his face turned to the blank wall of the cloister, his backupon all the others. What his motive for this was neither of the Texanscould tell; and in all likelihood Santander knew not himself any morewho the man was. But his behaviour, from its very strangeness, courtedinquiry; and seemingly struck with it, the staff-colonel, addressinghimself to the gaol-governor, said--
"By the way, Don Pedro, who is your prisoner, who makes the fourth inthis curious quartette? He seems shy about showing his face, whichwould argue it an ugly one like my own."
A bit of badinage in which Carlos Santander oft indulged. He knew thathe was anything but ill-favoured as far as face went.
"Only a gentleman of the road--_un salteador_" responded the governor.
"An interesting sort of individual then," said Santander. "Let me scanhis countenance, and see whether it be of the true brigand type--aMazaroni or Diavolo."
So saying, he stepped inside the cell, and passed on till he could seeover the robber's shoulder, who now slightly turning his head, facedtowards him. Not a word was exchanged between the two, but from thelooks it was clear they were old acquaintances, Santander starting as herecognised the other; while his glance betrayed a hostility strong andfierce as that felt for either Florence Kearney or the Texan. A slightexclamation, involuntary, but telling of anger, was all that passed hislips as his eyes met a pair of other eyes which seemed to pierce hisvery heart.
He stayed not for more; but turning upon his heel, made direct for thedoor. Not to reach it, however, without interruption. In his hurry tobe gone, he stumbled over the legs of the Texan, that stretched acrossthe cell, nearly from side to side. Angered by the obstruction, he gavethem a spiteful kick, then passed on outward. By good fortune fast andfar out of reach, otherwise Cris Rock, who sprang to his feet, and onfor the entrance, jerking the dwarf after, would in all probabilitythere and then have taken his life.
As it was, the gaol-governor, seeing the danger, suddenly shut thecloister door, so saving it.
"Jest as I've been tellin' ye all along, Cap," coolly remarked Rock, asthe slammed door ceased to make resonance; "we shed ha' hanged theskunk, or shot him thar an' then on the Shell Road. 'Twar a foolishthing lettin' him out o' that ditch when I had him in it. Darn the lucko' my not drownin' him outright! We're like to sup sorrow for it now."