CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.
AN ILL-USED COACHMAN.
"Such forethought?" exclaimed Rivas, as the landau went rattling alongthe road with the speed of a war-chariot, "wonderful!" he went on. "Ah,for cleverness, commend me to a woman--when her will's in it. We menare but simpletons to them. My glorious Ysabel! She's the sort for asoldier's wife. But don't let me be claiming all the credit for her.Fair play to the Senorita Valverde; who has, I doubt not, done her shareof the contriving--on your account, Senor."
The Senor so spoken to had no doubt of it either, and would have beengrieved to think otherwise, but he was too busy at the moment to saymuch, and only signified his assent in monosyllables. With head down,and arms in see-sawing motion, he was endeavouring to cut theircoupling-chain; the tool he handled being a large file; another of the"something" to be found under the cushions--as found it was! No wonderDon Ruperto's enthusiastic admiration of the providence which had placedit there.
Handy with workmen's tools as with warlike weapons, the young Irishmanhad laid hold of it as soon as they were safe through the _garita_, andwas now rasping away with might and main; the other keeping the chain inplace.
It was not a task to be accomplished without time. The links were thickas a man's finger, and would need no end of filing before they could beparted. Still, there was little likelihood of their being interrupteduntil it could be done. There was nobody on the road, and only here andthere some labourers at work in the adjoining fields, too busy to takenote of them, or what they were at. The sight of a passing carriagewould be nothing strange, and the horses going at a gallop would butlead to the supposition of its being a party of "jovenes dorados"driving out into the country, who had taken too much wine beforestarting.
But, even though these poor proletarians knew all, there was nothing tobe apprehended for any action on their part. Conspiracies and_pronunciamentos_ were not in their line; and the storm of revolutionmight burst over their heads without their caring what way it went, oreven inquiring who was its promoter. So the escaping prisoners tooklittle pains to conceal what they were at. Speed was now more to theirpurpose than strategy, and they were making their best of it, both toget on along the road, and have their legs free for future action.
"We might have passed safely through that gate," said the Mexican, whostill continued to do the talking, "even had they known who we were."
"Indeed! how?"
"You saw that sergeant who saluted us?"
"Of course I did, and the grand salute he gave! He couldn't have madeit more impressive had it been the Commander-in-Chief of your army, orthe Dictator himself who was passing."
"And I fancy it was just something of the kind that moved him.Doubtless, the livery of the coachman, which he would know to be that ofDon Ignacio Valverde."
"You think he got us through?"
"Yes. But it wouldn't have done so if he'd known what was up. Thoughsomething else might--that is, his knowing _me_."
"Oh! he knows you?"
"He does; though I'm not sure he recognised me in passing, as I did him.Odd enough, his being there just then. He was corporal in a company Ionce commanded, and I believe liked me as his captain. He's an oldschemer, though; has turned his coat times beyond counting; and just aswell there's been no call for trusting him. He'll catch it for lettingus slip past without challenge; and serve him right, wearing the colourshe now does. Ha! they've waked up at last! I was expecting that."
It was the first gun at the citadel which called forth theseexclamations, soon followed by the ding-dong of the city bells.
"_Carrai_!" he continued, "we're no doubt being pursued now, and bycavalry; some of those we saw in the procession. It begins to look bad.Still, with so much start, and this fine pair of _frisones_, I've notmuch fear of their overtaking us, till we reach the point I'm makingfor; unless, indeed--"
"Unless what?" asked Kearney, seeing he had interrupted himself, and waslooking out apprehensively.
"That! There's your answer," said the Mexican, pointing to a puff ofsmoke that had just shot out from the summit of an isolated hill onwhich were batteries and buildings. "Chapultepec--a gun!" he added, andthe bang came instantly after.
"We'll have it hot enough now," he continued, in a tone telling ofalarm. "There's sure to be cavalry up yonder. If they're cleverly led,and know which way to take, they may head us off yet, in spite of all wecan do. Lay on the whip," he shouted out to the coachman.
And the whip was laid on, till the horses galloped faster than ever,leaving behind a cloud of dust, which extended back for more than amile.
The road they were on was the direct route to San Angel; and throughthis village Rivas had intended going, as he had no reason to believethere were troops stationed in it. But Chapultepec was nearer to itthan the point where they themselves were, and cavalry now starting fromthe latter could easily reach San Angel before them. But there was abranch road leading to Coyoacan, and as that would give them someadvantage, he determined on taking it.
And now another gun at the citadel, with the response from Chapultepec,and, soon after, the third booming from both. But meanwhile, somethingseen at the castle-crowned hill which deepened the anxious expression onthe face of the Mexican.
"_Santos Dios_!" he exclaimed; "just as I expected. Look yonder,Senor!"
Kearney looked, to see a stream pouring out from the castle gates andrunning down the steep causeway which zig-zags to the bottom of thehill. A stream of men in uniform, by their square crowned shakos andother insignia, recognisable as Lancers. They had neither weapons norhorses with them; but both, as Rivas knew, would be at the _Cuartel_ andstables below. He also knew that the _Lanzeros_ were trained soldiers--a petted arm of the service--and it would not take them long to "bootand saddle."
More than ever was his look troubled now, still not despairing. He hadhis hopes and plans.
"Drop your file, Senor," he said hurriedly; "no time to finish that now.We must wait for a better opportunity. And we'll have to leave thecarriage behind; but not just yet."
By this they had arrived at the embouchure of the branch road coming outfrom Cayocaon, into which by his direction the horses were headed, goingon without stop or slackening of speed. And so for nearly another mile;then he called out to those on the box to bring up.
Rock, anticipating something of the sort, instantly reined in, and thecarriage came to a stand. At which the two inside sprang out upon theroad, Kearney calling to the Texan--
"Drop the reins, Cris! Down; unhitch the horses. Quick!"
And quick came he down, jerking the dwarf after, who fell upon allfours; as he recovered his feet, looking as if he had lost his senses.No one heeded him or his looks; the hurry was too great even to stay forunbuckling.
"Cut everything off!" cried Kearney, still speaking to Rock. "Leave ononly the bridles."
With the knife late put into his hands the Texan went to work, Kearneyhimself plying the other, while Rivas held the horses and unhooked thebearing reins.
Soon pole-pieces and hame-straps were severed; and the frisones ledforward left all behind, save the bridles and collars.
"Leave the collars on," said Rivas, seeing there was no time to detachthem. "Now we mount two and two; but first to dispose of him."
The "him" was Jose, still seated on the box, apparently in a state ofstupor.
"Pull him down, Cris! Tie him to the wheel!" commanded Kearney. "Thedriving reins will do it."
The Texan knew how to handle tying gear, as all Texans do, and in atrice the unresisting cochero was dragged from his seat and bound,Ixion-like, to one of the carriage wheels.
But Rock had not done with him yet. There was a necessity for somethingmore, which looked like wanton cruelty--as they wished it to look. Thiswas the opening of the poor fellow's mouth, and gagging him with thestock of his own whip!
So, rendered voiceless and helpless, he saw the four forzados,two-and-two, get upon his horses and ride off, the onl
y one whovouchsafed to speak a parting word being the dwarf--he calling back in ajocular way--
"_Adios, Senor cochero_! May your journey be as pleasant as your coachis slow. Ha, ha, ha!"