CHAPTER XX.
"SAVE HIM, JUAN, SAVE HIM!"
"Aren't you coming, Juan?"
Two days had passed since my interview with Rosa Montilla, and I wassitting in my room at the barracks, feeling at enmity with all theworld.
"It's a pity we've nothing better to do than to make fools ofourselves," said I savagely, when young Alzura burst in on me excitedly.
He was dressed to represent some hideous monster that never was knownon sea or land, and in his hand he carried a grotesque mask.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed; "some one been rubbing you down the wrong way?Caramba, you are in a towering rage! Pray what has offended your RoyalHighness?"
"Why, all this tomfoolery! Fancy a masked ball with Canterac in themountains ready to swoop down on us at any moment!"
"The more reason why we should enjoy ourselves while we can. Besides,you are as bad as the rest: you promised to go!"
"I have forgotten it, then."
"Well, you did; so make haste--the carriage is waiting."
"I have no dress ready," said I coldly.
"That doesn't matter in the least. Go in your uniform; you look verywell in it."
"Thanks, I prefer to stay here."
"You forget the ball is given in our honour! Colonel Miller won't betoo pleased at finding you absent. 'Twill be a slight on our host andhostess."
"Very well, if you put it that way, I'll join you in the messroomshortly," said I indifferently.
"That's right. Slip your things on sharp; the animals will getrestive."
Alzura was in high spirits. He loved fun of all kinds, and this ballwas just to his taste. Plaza and Cordova shared our carriage, and bothof them rallied me on my glum looks.
"Crawford's a bloodthirsty fellow," cried Alzura banteringly--"neverhappy unless he's fighting!"
"That's a libel!" said I warmly; "I'm sick of the whole thing. Whenthis war's over, I hope never to hear a shot fired again."
"Be easy," laughed Cordova; "you'll be an old man by then, and too deafto hear even the report of a pistol."
"There may be more truth in that than you think," I observed, bitterly.
"Never mind, my boy," said Plaza; "you won't hear any shots firedto-night. There's no great harm in enjoying ourselves for an hour ortwo. Here we are! What a crowd outside!--Put on your mask, Alzura;the people will like the fun."
There was a roar of laughter from the spectators as Alzura, appeared,and we went into the hall amidst a round of cheering. Most of theguests wore some fanciful costume, but several officers, Miller andO'Brien among them, were in uniform.
The magnificent _salons_ were illuminated by thousands of lights; theguests were numerous, and represented most of the beauty and wealth ofLima. My father and mother had not come, neither did I see Montilla.Rosa, of course, would have scorned to attend a ball given to thePatriots.
Despite the lights and the music and the striking gaiety of the scene,I could not banish my feeling of dread. I felt, as people say, that"something was going to happen," and moved listlessly among thebrilliant assembly, wondering what it would be.
"You look bored, Crawford," remarked O'Brien, coming across to me. "Isanything the matter?"
"No, thanks; I'm a bit off colour--that's all."
"Would you rather be in the mountains?" asked Colonel Miller, who hadjoined us.
"It depends on circumstances, colonel," I replied, trying to smile.
When they had left me, I fell back on my occupation of gazingindifferently at the brilliant scene. I could take no interest in it,nor in the chaff and nonsense of my friends, who tried hard to make memore like myself. It seemed that in some mysterious way I was waitingfor something, though what I could not imagine. When the summonsactually came, I was not in the least surprised.
Alzura, who brought it me, had no idea he was assisting at a tragedy,but, with a merry laugh, exclaimed, "Crawford, there is a lady outsidewaiting to see you; she will not leave her carriage."
"Who is it?" I asked.
"I don't know; I haven't seen her. A servant gave me the message, andI set off to find you."
"Thanks," said I quietly, and crossing the brilliantly-lit _salon_,took my cap and went into the vast hall.
Who had come for me--my mother? That was my first thought, but amoment's reflection showed that it was unlikely. Had there beenanything wrong at home, she would have sent Jose on a swift horse. Theanswer to my question came as I stood on the flight of steps leading tothe hall. The crowd of people had dispersed, and only a solitarycarriage with its attendants stood at the door. Recognizing theMontilla livery in an instant, I ran down the steps with a beatingheart.
The carriage door was open, and the light from the hall fell full onthe white face of Rosa.
"What has happened?" I cried. "Why do you look so frightened? Tellme, quick!"
Her only answer was to bid me step inside. The footman sprang to hisplace, the coachman gathered up the reins, the carriage turned with aswing, and almost before I realized it we were off at a gallop. Thegirl's face was hidden now in darkness, but I had seen it for a moment,and could not forget it. She was white and scared; her cheeks weretear-stained, and her eyes full of apprehension and grief.
Some terrible disaster had happened, but I could not learn what it was.To all my questions she replied, "Home! home!" and ordered the coachmanto drive faster. Then she burst into a fit of crying, utteringincoherent words, of which I could make nothing.
"Is it your father, Rosa?" I asked. "Has anything happened to him?"At which she cried still more, upbraiding me for I knew not what.
The gates of the hacienda were wide open. We passed through at agallop, and the trembling, foam-covered horses drew up at the frontdoor. As soon as the carriage came to a standstill, I jumped out andassisted Rosa to alight. All the servants seemed to have gathered inthe hall. Their faces were white, their eyes wild with dread; some ofthem still shivered. Evidently a great calamity had occurred. Whatwas it?
Looking around, I noted the absence of Don Felipe. That gave me a clueto the nature of the disaster. Perhaps he lay dead in his room;perhaps the government, suspecting him of treachery, had torn him away.I did not hit on the exact truth, but my conjectures went very near it.
Rosa's wild fit had passed; she was no longer a weeping girl, but animperious mistress. Her tears were dried; she had banished her fear.There was a light of scorn and command in her eyes.
"Away, cowards!" she cried. "Do you call yourselves men, and would nottry to save your master? Begone!" and she stamped her foot in passion.
The servants slunk off abashed, and she led me along the corridor. Thedoor of her father's room was closed, but she opened it, and said,"Come in, Juan; see your friends' handiwork!"
The apartment was in total disorder. Chairs were overthrown; the tablewas stripped of its contents; all kinds of articles lay strewn aboutthe floor: there were very evident signs of a fierce and prolongedstruggle. On one wall was the mark of a bullet, and a corner of theapartment was splashed with blood. I gazed round eagerly forMontilla's body, but it was not there.
"See," said the girl, "he was sitting there when the ruffians burst inupon him. He fought for his life like a cavalier of old Spain, but thecowards were too many. They flung themselves upon him like a pack ofwolves, and bore him to the ground."
"But who were they?" I asked in amazement. "Who did it? Tell meplainly what happened."
"Need you ask?" she said coldly. "The ruffians were your friends--yourservants, for all I know."
"Rosa, you are speaking wildly. I do not wonder at it: this terribleaffair has upset your nerves."
Then she turned upon me, her eyes blazing with angry scorn.
"What is it that you wear beneath your tunic, Juan Crawford?" shecried. "Are you ashamed that it should be seen?"
At first I did not understand her meaning; then a glimmer of the truthbegan to dawn on me, and slowly I drew out the silver key.
"Do you mean this?"
"Yes! 'The chief of the Silver Key'--that is what the black-browedruffian called himself. Fancy my father, a Spanish gentleman, theprisoner of a band of half-dressed savages--your friends, JuanCrawford!"
"But I know nothing about it," I cried. "These men take no orders fromme. The key was given me by the chief when I myself stood in need ofprotection."
"Nevertheless they are your friends, and they have dragged my fatherfrom his home."
"But why? Surely there must be a reason! Tell me what they said. Tryto be calm, Rosa; your father's life may depend on your words."
"I know nothing. How should I? I was in bed. My father sat therewriting when they broke into the house. The servants fled, and hidthemselves like frightened sheep. The cowards! I dressed and ranhere. My father had killed one ruffian, but--but he could not struggleagainst so many."
"I'll wager that he showed himself a brave man."
"He did; but they overcame him," she continued, speaking more calmly."They bound him with cords: he was helpless. I begged the big banditto release him; I would have gone on my knees--I, a daughter of theMontillas!" and she drew herself up proudly.
"But the chief, Rosa--what did he say?"
"That my father was charged with a serious offence, and that he must betried by the officers of the Silver Key. Think of that, JuanCrawford!--my father tried for his life by those dirty bandits! Oh,how I wish I was a man! Then they took him away. I was alone andfriendless; I thought of you, and told the coachman to drive me toLima. Then I remembered you were one of these people, and would haveturned back. But my father's life is precious; I would beg it even ofan enemy. O Juan, Juan, save him for me!"
She broke down utterly. I tried to comfort her, and failed. She didnothing but cry, "Save him, Juan, save him!"
"Save him, Juan, save him!"]
I had no faith in my power to help her, but I could not tell her so.Why Raymon Sorillo had done this I knew no more than she--unless,indeed, he had discovered Don Felipe conspiring with the Royalists. Inthat case, perhaps, I might prevail on him to spare the prisoner'slife, and to restore him to liberty when the war was over. It was onlya tiny spark of hope, but I made the most of it.
"Listen, Rosa," I said cheerfully. "I do not belong to this society ofwhich you speak, but its chief will do much for me. I will go to himnow and use all my influence. I will beg him earnestly to spare yourfather's life, and I think he may grant it me. Cheer up, Rosa! In afew days I shall return and bring your father with me, most likely."
"O Juan, how shall I ever thank you! Forget the wild words I said toyou. I was distracted with fear and anger; I did not mean them, Juan!"
"No, no," I answered soothingly; "I have forgotten them already. Nowgo to bed; I must start at once. I shall take a horse from yourstables."
"You have no sword!"
"I shall not need one. There is no danger for me in the mountains.The Indians will do me no harm."
As soon as she had promised to go to her room I returned to the hall,and calling the servants, sent one to explain matters briefly to myfather, and asking that my mother would come and stay with Rosa for awhile. Then going to the stables, I selected two good horses, andordered a groom to help me to saddle them. Sorillo might or might notlisten to my request, but it would be as well to waste no time on thejourney.
The thought of taking Jose occurred to me, but I put it aside. Therewas really no danger in the journey, while if Sorillo would not listento an appeal made in my father's name, he was not likely to listen atall.
Leading the spare horse, I rode through the grounds, cantered down thenarrow lane, struck the highroad, and turned in the direction of themountains. Just where Sorillo might be I could not tell, but Idetermined first of all to try the ravine where I had once spentseveral days.
I have said that I had little faith in the success of my mission. Whythe Indians had committed this outrage was a mystery, and I could thinkof nothing which would help me to solve it. That Don Felipe had actedtreacherously I could well believe; but why, in that case, did notSorillo hand him over to the government? Why should the officers ofthe Silver Key take it upon themselves to try him?
I rode on gloomily till the sun was high in the heavens, halting at asolitary hut, where the woman gave me food and drink for myself and theanimals. She was kind enough in this matter, but to my questions shewould return no answers. She knew nothing about the war, except thatthe soldiers had slain her only son, and her husband had been absentfor over a year. He might be Royalist or Patriot, she did not know,only she wished people were allowed to live in peace, and to cultivatetheir little plots of land.
Giving her some money, I mounted and rode on, feeling refreshed by thebrief halt. The district was for the most part bare and uninhabited.Here and there were the remains of a ruined hut, and on the route Ipassed the deserted hacienda which had once afforded me a night'sshelter. I met no people, except occasionally a few women and littlechildren; the men and growing boys were in the mountains or in theranks of the army.
It was evening when I reached the foot of the mountains. My horseswere tired out, and the worst part of the journey still lay before me.However, the light had not altogether faded, so I began the ascent,hoping to meet with some of Sorillo's men. As it chanced, I had notlong to wait.
A sudden "Halt! who are you?" brought me to a stand, and I answered atrandom, "A friend of the Silver Key."
"Are you alone?" asked the voice, with just a tinge of suspicion.
"Yes," I replied. "I am Juan Crawford, and am looking for RaymonSorillo. Can you take me to him?"
A man stepped from behind a rock, and eyeing me suspiciously,exclaimed, "Wait, senor. I cannot leave my post, but I will call for aguide;" and putting his hand to his mouth, he whistled softly.
The sound was answered by one from higher up, and presently a secondIndian, armed to the teeth, came running down. The two talked togetherin whispers, and at last the second man said, "Come this way, senor; Iwill lead you to the chief. He will be pleased to see the son of DonEduardo."
Under the circumstances I thought this rather doubtful, but I followedhim up the path.
"Are you staying in the ravine?" I asked.
"Yes, senor, for the present."
"Did you go with the chief to Lima?"
"Ah, the senor knows of that! The old crocodile showed fight, andkilled a good man; but he is safe enough now."
"He has not been put to death?" I asked, my forehead clammy withperspiration.
"Not yet, senor; he must first be tried."
"But what have you discovered?" I asked, thinking the fellow might beable to give me some information as to the cause of Don Felipe'sabduction.
In this I was mistaken. The man knew, or pretended to know, nothingabout it. The chief had given orders, but not reasons, and had, asusual, been obeyed unquestioningly. At a word from him his men wouldhave ridden into Lima and dragged the president from his palace.
It almost seemed as if Sorillo expected his stronghold to be attacked.The path was guarded by sentries, and a score of men were stationed atthe entrance to the ravine, They passed us through without trouble, andbefore long I found myself in the presence of the chief.
"You are surprised to see me?" I said briskly.
"Yes; I thought you were in Lima."
"I was there last night."
"You have made a wonderfully quick journey. You must be tired and inneed of refreshment. Come; I can at least offer you a good supper."
"Not yet, thank you. I want to ask you a question first. What haveyou done with Don Felipe Montilla?"
"The dog is in the hut yonder."
He spoke with both anger and contempt; his face underwent a suddenchange; for the first time I saw how cruel it could look. My heartsank as I realized the uselessness of any appeal to him for mercy.Then I thought of Rosa, and said,--
"It is on Don Felipe's account I am here. What has he done? Why
hashe been brought here?"
"If another dared question me like this, I would answer him with apistol shot," he cried fiercely; "but I do not forget that you are theson of Don Eduardo Crawford. Come, let us eat and forget thisbusiness."
"Will you tell me afterwards?"
"I will tell you nothing, but you shall hear for yourself. To-morrowthe man will be tried, and if he is found guilty, not all South Americashall save him. But we will try him fairly, and you shall bear witnessto our justice."
"I want mercy!" said I.
"You do not know what you ask yet. Wait till the morning. And nowcome; you must not be able to accuse me of inhospitality."
The guerillas led away my horses, and I followed Sorillo to his ownhut, where in a short time a plentiful meal was laid. I was bothhungry and thirsty, yet I had to force myself to eat and drink.Sorillo made no attempt at conversation, and I did not care to talk.
When the things were removed, he had a bed made on the floor, andsuggested I should lie down.
"I am busy," said he. "Most likely I shall be up all night, but thatis no reason why you should not rest. I will have you wakened in goodtime in the morning."
"Thank you," I answered; and as he left the hut I lay down on the bedand closed my eyes.
Though tired out, hours passed before I was able to sleep. In thedarkness I could see Rosa's white face, and hear her pitiful cry, "Savehim, Juan, save him for me!"
What had he done to make Sorillo so angry? Surely he was not so bitteragainst every traitor? He had hinted that even I would not beg formercy when I knew the truth. It would have to be something verydreadful, I thought, to make me forget my promise to Rosa.
And what of Don Felipe? How was he passing the night? Did he know thecharge to be brought against him in this most irregular court? andwould he be able to clear himself? I wondered.
So thinking and dreaming, between sleep and wakefulness, I lay on thechief's bed, while the long hours rolled slowly away.