CHAPTER SIXTY.
"SURRENDER!"
If the carriage horses were startled by the apparition, no less so werethe Hussars formed round. Equally frightened these, though not from thesame cause. The hunchback--for it was he--had become a familiar sightto them; but not agitated as he appeared to be now. He was panting forbreath, barely able to gasp out the interrogation, "Adone 'staelCoronel?"
His distraught air and the tone told of some threatening danger.
"Here!" called out Santander, springing his horse a length or twoforward, "What is it, sirrah?"
"The enemy, S'nor Colonel," responded the dwarf, sliding close in to thestirrup.
"Enemy! What enemy?"
"Them we missed catching--Don Ruperto, the Irlandes, the big Tejano."
"Ha!--They!--Where?"
"Close by, S'nor. I saw them round a great camp-fire up in themountains. They're not there now. I came on to tell you. I ran asfast as ever I was able, but they've been following. I could hear thetramp of their horses behind all the way. They must be near at handnow. Hark!"
"Patria y Libertad!"
The cry came from without, in the tone of a charging shibboleth, othervoices adding, "Mueran los tyrannos!"
Instantaneously succeeded by the cracking of carbines, with shouts, andthe clash of steel against steel--the sounds of a hand-to-hand fight,which the stamping and snorting of horses proclaimed between cavalry.
Never was conflict of shorter duration; over almost before they in thecourtyard could realise its having commenced. The confused sounds ofthe _melee_ lasted barely a minute when a loud huzza, drowning thehoof-strokes of the retreating horses, told that victory had declareditself for one side or the other. They who listened were not long indoubt as to which sent up that triumphant cheer. Through the frontgate, standing open, burst a mass of mounted men, some carrying lancescouched for the thrust, others with drawn sabres, many of their bladesdripping blood. On came they into the courtyard, still vociferating:"Mueran los tyrannos!" while he at their head, soon as showing himself,called out in a commanding voice, "Rendite?"
By this a change had taken place in the tableau of figures beside thecarriage. The Hussars having reined back, had gathered in a ruck aroundtheir colonel, irresolute how to act. Equally unresolved he to orderthem. That cry, "Country and Liberty," had struck terror to his heart;and now seeing those it came from, recognising the three who rodeforemost--as in the clear moonlight he could--the blood of the cravenran cold. They were the men he had subjected to insult, directdegradation; and he need look for no mercy at their hands. With a sparkof manhood, even such as despair sometimes inspires, he would have shownfight. Major Ramirez would, and did; for at the first alarm he hadgalloped out to the gate and there met death.
Not so Santander, who, although he had taken his sword out of itsscabbard, made no attempt to use it, but sat shivering in his saddle, asif the weapon was about to drop from his hand.
On the instant after a blade more firmly held, and better wielded,flashed before his eyes; he who held it, as he sprung his horse up,crying out:
"Carlos Santander! your hour has come! Scoundrel! _This time_ I intendkilling you."
Even the insulting threat stung him not to resistance. Never shonemoonlight on more of a poltroon, the glitter and grandeur of his warlikedress in striking contrast with his cowardly mien.
"Miserable wretch!" cried Kearney--for it was he who confronted him--"Idon't want to kill you in cold blood Heaven forbid my doing murder.Defend yourself."
"He defend hisself!" scornfully exclaimed a voice--that of Cris Rock."He dassen't as much as do that. He hasn't the steel shirt on now."
Yet another voice at this moment made itself heard, as a figure,feminine, became added to the group. Luisa Valverde it was, who,rushing out of the carriage and across the courtyard, cried out--
"Spare his life, Don Florencio. He's not worthy of your sword."
"You're right thar, young lady," endorsed the Texan, answering forKearney. "That he ain't--an' bare worth the bit o' lead that's insideo' this ole pistol. For all, I'll make him a present o' 't--thar, dangye."
The last words were accompanied by a flash and a crack, causingSantander's horse to shy and rear up. When the fore hoofs of the animalreturned to the flags, they but missed coming down upon the body of itsrider, now lying lifeless along them.
"That's gin him his quieetus, I reckin," observed Rock, as he glanceddown at the dead man, whose face upturned had the full moonlight uponit, showing handsome features, that withal were forbidding in life, butnow more so in the ghastly pallor of death.
No one stayed to gaze upon them, least of all the Texan, who had yetanother life to take, as he deemed in the strict execution of duty andsatisfaction of justice. For it too was forfeit by the basest betrayal.The soldiers were out of their saddles now, prisoners all; havingsurrendered without striking a blow. But crouching away in a shadowycorner was that thing of deformity, who, from his diminutive size, mightwell have escaped observation. He did not, however. The Texan had hiseyes on him all the while, having caught a glimpse of him as they wereriding in at the gate. And in those eyes now gleamed a light of avengeance not to be allayed save by a life sacrificed. If Santander onseeing Kearney believed his hour was come, so did the dwarf as he sawCris Rock striding towards him. Caught by the collar, and dragged outinto the light, he knew death was near now.
In vain his protestations and piteous appeals. Spite of all, he had todie. And a death so unlike that usually meted out to criminals, as hehimself to the commonality of men. No weapon was employed in putting anend to him: neither gun nor pistol, sword nor knife. Letting go hold ofhis collar, the Texan grasped him around the ankles, and with a brandishraising him aloft, brought his head down upon the pavement. There was acrash as the breaking of a cocoa-nut shell by a hammer; and when Rocklet go, the mass of mis-shapen humanity dropped in a dollop upon theflags, arms and legs limp and motionless, in the last not even the powerleft for a spasmodic kick.
"Ye know, Cap," said the Texan, justifying himself to Kearney, "I'd bethe last man to do a cruel thing. But to rid the world o' sech varmintas them, 'cording to my way o' thinking, air the purest hewmanity."
A doctrine which the young Irishman was not disposed to dispute just atthat time, being otherwise and better occupied, holding soft hands inhis, words exchanging with sweet lips, not unaccompanied by kisses.Near at hand Don Ruperto was doing the same, his _vis-a-vis_ being theCondesa.
But these moments of bliss were brief--had need be. The raid of theFree Lances down to San Augustin was a thing of risk, only to have beenattempted by lovers who believed their loved ones were in deadly danger.In another hour or less, the Hussars who had escaped would reportthemselves at San Angel and Chapultepec--then there would be a rush ofthousands in the direction of Tlalpam.
So there was in reality--soldiers of all arms, "horse, foot, anddragoons." But on arrival there they found the house of Don IgnacioValverde untenanted; even the domestics had gone out of it; thecarriage, too, which has played such an important part in our tale,along with the noble _frisones_. The horses had not been taken out ofit, nor any change made in the company it carried off. Only in thedriver, the direction, and _cortege_. Jose again held the reins,heading his horses up the mountain road, instead of towards Mexico;while, in place of Colonel Santander's Hussars, the Free Lances ofCaptain Ruperto Rivas now formed a more friendly escort.