CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN.
THE COLONEL OF COLONELS.
The day upon which these various events took place was anything but ahappy one for Arroyo. It appeared to him as if the re-appearance in theneighbourhood of his deadliest foe--Don Rafael Tres-Villas--had been thesignal for the series of disappointments which had occurred to him. Tenof his followers had fallen in a sortie of the besieged, besides twomore killed by the hand of Don Rafael--who had himself escaped, as wellas the prisoner Gaspar and the deserter Juan el Zapote.
The bloodthirsty disposition of the guerilla chief had been strengthenedby these disappointments, and in order to give solace to his vexedspirit, he resolved to possess himself of the hacienda of San Carloswithout further delay.
In addition to the wicked desires--which the promptings of Bocardo hadexcited within him--there was another reason urging him to carry outthis design. The hacienda of San Carlos, with a little labour, could beconverted into a fortress of considerable strength, and such as he mightyet stand in need of.
He saw that he had miscalculated the power of resistance of the royalistgarrison of Del Valle; and, still ignorant of its real strength, hedeemed it better to call off the besieging force until after the takingof San Carlos. Then he could go back with his whole band, and make adetermined assault against the place.
He had, for these reasons, ordered the besiegers to return to camp; and,striking his tent, had marched with all his followers to the capture ofSan Carlos. This will explain why Don Cornelio and his companions hadbeen able to pass the hacienda Del Valle--and afterwards the ford of theOstuta--without seeing anything of Arroyo or his band--Gaspacho aloneexcepted.
Numerous as were the servants of Don Fernando Lacarra--the proprietor ofSan Carlos--their master did not for a moment dream of makingresistance. It would have been worse than useless against anexperienced _guerilla_ numbering in all above a hundred men. At thefirst summons, therefore, the gates of the hacienda were opened toArroyo and his followers.
Having hitherto practised a strict neutrality, and being known to have astrong sympathy with the cause of the Independence, the young Spaniardbelieved that Arroyo only intended demanding from him a contribution inprovisions--and perhaps money--for the support of his troops; and thatwith this he would be contented.
Although not suspecting the designs of the brigand in regard to hiswife, he had deemed it prudent, before opening the gates, that sheshould conceal herself in one of the secret chambers of the mansion--where he was also in the habit of keeping his money and plate. There hefancied she would be safe enough--unless, indeed, the whole buildingshould be ransacked and pillaged.
To strengthen this precaution, Don Fernando had informed the brigands ontheir entering the house, that his wife, Marianita, was not at home.
Unfortunately for him, it was not a mere levy of blackmail that was nowto satisfy the partisan chieftains. One was determined upon robbing himof his wife--while the other coveted his money--and therefore thesubterfuges of Don Fernando were not likely to avail him.
It was just at the time that the wretched husband was endeavouring tomislead his visitors as to the hiding-place of his wife and histreasure, that Don Cornelio Lantejas had come within view of thebuilding, the lights of whose windows had so mystified him. Thatmystery was now to be cleared up, and the ex-student was to find theexplanation of those bright coloured flames with their changing hues.
Following Gaspacho up the stone stairway, Don Cornelio reached a doorupon the landing. It was closed; but inside, a tumult of voices couldbe heard, accompanied by cries as of some one in pain.
His conductor unceremoniously opened the door, and pushed Don Corneliointo a large room, the atmosphere of which almost suffocated him.
Several torches of resin, set in candelabras, were burning round thewalls, but the reddish light which these produced was almost eclipsedunder the glare that proceeded from a keg of brandy that stood near themiddle of the floor, and which, having been set on fire, was completelyenveloped in violet-coloured flames.
The heat, the smell of blood, and the effluvia of the burning alcohol,constituted an atmosphere horrid to endure; but even this was lesspainful to Don Cornelio than the sight which met his eyes as he enteredthe room. On one side was a group of guerilleros--clustered around someobject which they were regarding with the most vivid interest--allseemingly pleased with the spectacle.
It was that of an unfortunate man, stripped almost naked, and tied withhis face to the wall, while another man stood over him, grasping astrong cow-hide whip, with which, at intervals, he struck the wretchedvictim, apparently with all the strength that lay in his arms.
He who handled the whip was a man of the most sinister aspect; and theblue flames of the alcohol flashing over his countenance added to itsdemoniac expression. Gouts of blood, that had spurted from the back ofthe sufferer, spotted the wall on both sides of him; and the number ofthose spots showed that the punishment had been continued for somelength of time.
By the side of the man who was inflicting the stripes--and whom Lantejassupposed to be some common executioner--stood a woman of a still morehideous aspect; who, by her gestures and words, kept exciting the wretchto still greater cruelty--as though he stood in need of suchencouragement.
Gaspacho, perceiving that no one heeded his entrance, cried out, so asto be heard above the tumult--
"Senor Captain! we have captured the comrade of the negro and theIndian. Here he is."
To the astonishment of Don Cornelio, the person thus addressed as thecaptain was no other than the hideous individual who was handling thewhip.
"Very well," responded the latter, without turning round. "I shallattend to him presently, as soon as I have made this _coyote_ confesswhere he has hidden his wife and his money."
The whip again whistled through the air, and came down upon the back ofthe wretched sufferer, without producing any other manifestation than adeep groan.
It is scarcely necessary to say that the victim of this barbaroustreatment was Don Fernando Lacarra. The words of Arroyo have alreadymade this known to the reader.
Perfectly indifferent to the spectacle, Gaspacho, having introduced hisprisoner to the presence of Arroyo, walked out of the room.
As regards Don Cornelio, he stood where the robber had left him,paralysed with horror. Independently of the compassion he felt for thesufferer, he was under the suspicion that both Costal and Clara hadalready perished, and that his own turn might come next.
While these fearful reflections were passing through his mind, a manwhom he had not before noticed now came up to him. This was anindividual with a jackal-like face, and the skulking mien of thatanimal, with all its ferocious aspect.
"My good friend," said this man, addressing himself to Don Cornelio,"you appear somewhat lightly clad for one who is about to presenthimself before people of distinction."
Lantejas, in reality--thanks to the bandits who had captured him--wasalmost naked: a torn shirt and drawers being all the clothing they hadleft him.
"Senor Captain,"--said he, addressing the jackal-like individual, andintending to account for the scantiness of his costume.
"Stop," interrupted the other, "not _captain_. Call me Colonel ofColonels, if you please. It is a title which I have adopted, and no oneshall deprive me of it."
"Well then, Colonel of Colonels! if your people had not robbed me of mybroad cloth cloak, my hat of Vicuna wool, and various other articles ofclothing, you would not have seen me so lightly dressed. But it is notonly that which grieves me. I have other serious complaints to make--"
"The devil!" exclaimed the Colonel of Colonels, without heeding the lastremarks. "A broad cloth cloak and Vicuna hat, did you say? Two thingsof which I stand particularly in need. They must be recovered."
"I have to complain of violence offered to my person," continued DonCornelio. "I am called Lantejas--Captain Lantejas. I serve the juntaof Zitacuaro, under the orders of General Morelos; and I bear from him acommi
ssion, of which the proofs--"
A sudden thought interrupted the speech of Don Cornelio--a terriblethought, for it just now occurred to him that his despatches, hiscommission as captain, his letters of credence--in short, all the papersby which he could prove his identity--were in the pockets of the stolencloak!
"Ho!" exclaimed the Colonel of Colonels, in a joyful tone, "you callyourself Lantejas, do you? I am delighted to hear it, and so will ourcaptain be. It is the luckiest circumstance in the world for us, andfor you, too, as you shall presently be convinced. Look here!"
The speaker raised the corner of a _serape_ that was spread upon one ofthe tables standing near, and pointed to some objects lying underneath.Don Cornelio saw they were human heads.
There were three of them.
"Now, my good friend," continued the Colonel of Colonels, "there you seethe head of our old comrade, Lieutenant Lantejas, which we have broughtaway from where it was nailed over the gate of the hacienda Del Valle.Conceive, then, what a lucky thing for us! What a splendid _revanche_we shall have when, in place of the head of the insurgent Lantejas, weshall nail up that of Lantejas the royalist spy!"
"But it is a mistake," cried Don Cornelio, rubbing the cold sweat fromhis forehead. "I am not a royalist nor a spy neither. I have thehonour to serve the cause of the Independence--"
"Bah! everybody says the same. Besides, without any proofs--"
"But I have proofs. They are in the pocket of my cloak, of which I havebeen robbed."
"Who took your cloak?" inquired the Colonel of Colonels.
"Gaspacho," replied Don Cornelio, who had incidentally learnt the nameof the brigand who had despoiled him.
"Ah! that is a terrible misfortune. Gaspacho has just received ordersto go in all haste to Las Cruces. He is off by this time, and will notlikely be back in less than ten days. You, by that time will have lostyour head, and I my cloak and Vicuna hat. Both of them, I know, wouldhave fitted me, since you and I are both of a size. What a damnablemisfortune for both of us!"
A fearful cry interrupted the dialogue between Don Cornelio and theColonel of Colonels. The cry came from the wretched sufferer, whofainted as soon as uttering it.
Almost at the same instant the alcohol shot up its last flickeringflame--as the spirit itself was consumed; and in the reddish light ofthe torches Don Cornelio could perceive the men flitting about likeshadows, or rather like demons assisting in the horrible drama that wasbeing enacted.