CHAPTER TWENTY.
RESCUED BY RED HATS.
The Street of the Sparrows appeared to be my doomed spot. For thesecond time there seemed no chance of my getting out of it alive; andfor the second time I made up my mind to die hard in it.
Despite the suddenness with which Carrasco had surprised me, I was uponmy guard--before he or any of his comrades could come to close quarters.
But this time, alas! I was without revolver, or pistol of any kind.Not dreaming of danger at that early hour of the day, I had salliedforth, wearing only my parade sword. With this fickle weapon I couldnot possibly defend myself against half a score of men armed with thinlong-bladed _machetes_.
Grasping its hilt was like leaning upon a reed.
I thought of Francisco of again throwing myself upon his protection.
But which of the fifty dwellings was his?
Even could I have told the right one, would I have time to reach it, orwould he be at home?
There was a chance that he might be--that he might hear my cries, andcome out. It was so slight as to seem hopeless; and yet I clutched atit, as a drowning man at a straw!
Shouting, I retreated along the street--in what I believed to be thedirection of his dwelling.
I am not ashamed to acknowledge, that I called loudly for help--couplingmy calls with the name of Francisco Moreno. A man, with death staringhim in the teeth, may be excused for dropping a trifle of his dignity.I shouted like a respectable shopkeeper attacked by a gang of garotters.
The Street of the Sparrows was fatal to me only in promise; and for thesecond time fortune favoured my escape from it.
Help came; though not from the quarter so loudly solicited. Francisco'sdoor remained shut; at least it was not opened by him. It was thrownopen by a score of Red Hats, who at that moment appeared entering thestreet.
At any other time the sight of these sanguinary allies would have causedme a thrill of antagonism. Now they seemed saints--as they provedsaviours!
They had shown themselves in the nick of time. Carrasco and hiscompeers were close behind me--so close that the points of their_machetes_ were within six inches of my spine.
On espying the Red Hats they retreated in the opposite direction--goingoff even faster than they had been following me!
Seeing myself disembarrassed of the danger, I advanced to meet mypreservers. I had no idea of what they could be doing there; until Isaw them stop in front of a house--where they demanded admittance.
The demand was made in a rude manner, and in terms of an unmistakeabledetermination to enter.
As no one opened the door, they commenced hammering upon it with thebutts of their _escopetas_; for several of them were armed with thisweapon.
The door finally gave way--having yielded at the hinges--and, swinginground, stood partially ajar.
Not till then had I the slightest suspicion of what the Red Hats wereafter. Some "bit of burglary," I supposed, done in open day; for therewas no reason to think the contrary. I could see they were a stragglinglot--out on their own account, and without authority.
I was not enlightened about their object, till I saw the face ofFrancisco Moreno behind the half-opened door, scowlingly confrontingthem!
It was his house; though I had not before recognised it.
The conclusion came quick as electricity. They were there to arresthim, for killing one of their comrades on the night before, or being anaccomplice in the act!
I heard them make the declaration to the young soldier himself.
They had sufficient respect for the law to treat with him for a quietsurrender. More probably they feared his resistance--as he stood swordin hand in the doorway--looking like anything but a man who was going togive himself up!
Had he yielded, they would scarce have kept faith with him. I had nodoubt of their intention to slay him upon the spot, instead of takinghim to their quarters.
It was a crisis that called for my interference; and I interfered.
It only needed the throwing open my cloak, and pointing out the "spreadeagle" on my button.
The slightest disobedience to me would have cost them a score of lasheseach--"on the bare back, well laid on." Such was the phrasing of ourmilitary courts.
Nothing of the kind was attempted. I had full control of my rescuers--who were altogether unconscious of the service they had done me--ignorant also of the fact that it was I, not the Mexican, who had senttheir _camarado_ to his long account!
For myself I had no fear of them. I only feared for my friend: who, ifleft to their tender mercies, would never have paid another visit to theStreet of the Bishop.
I did not leave him to be judged by the Red Tribunal. I made acompromise with their self-esteem--by taking a lead in his arrest!
To this the accused man, with some show of reluctance, submitted; and,in ten minutes after, he was transported to the _Cuartel_, occupied bythe Rifle Rangers--though not to suffer the degradation of being shut upin its guard-house.