The Free Lances Part 27

Surrendering himself to the mayor-domo, Kearney was conducted to an outer room, in which he found a washstand and dressing-table, with towel and other toilet articles--all, however, of the commonest kind. Even so, they were luxuries that had been long denied him--especially the water, a constant stream of which ran into a stone basin from some pure mountain spring.

And, sure enough, the clean s.h.i.+rt was there, with a full suit of clothes; velveteen jacket, _calzoneras calzoncillas_, scarf of China c.r.a.pe--in short, the complete costume of a _ranchero_. A man of medium size, they fitted him nicely; and arrayed in them he made a very handsome appearance.

"Now, your honour," said the individual in charge of him, "allow me to show you the Refectory."

Another turn along the main pa.s.sage brought them to the door, from which issued a buzz of voices. His host had prepared him to expect company, and on stepping inside this door he saw it in the shape of some twenty-five or thirty men, all in the garb of monks of the same order as Rivas himself.

The room was a large one, saloon shape, with a table standing centrally, around which were benches and chairs. A cloth was spread upon it, with a multifarious and somewhat heterogeneous array of ware--bottles and gla.s.ses being conspicuous; for it was after eleven o'clock, and the meal _almuerzo_, as much dinner as breakfast. The viands were being put upon it; three or four Indian youths, not in convent dress, pa.s.sing them through a hatch that communicated with the kitchen, and from which also came a most appetising odour.

All this the young Irishman took in with a sweep of his eye, which instantly after became fixed upon the friars who had faced towards him.

They were standing in two or three groups, the largest gathered round an individual who towered above all of them by the head and shoulders.

Cris Rock it was, clean shaven, and looking quite respectable; indeed, better dressed than Kearney had seen him since he left off his New Orleans "store" clothes. The Colossus was evidently an object of great interest to his new acquaintances; and, from the farcical look upon their faces, it was clear they had been doing their best to "draw" him.

With what success Kearney could not tell; though, from the knowledge he had of his old comrade's cleverness, he suspected not much. There was just time for him to note the jovial air of the Brethren, so little in keeping with the supposed gravity of the monastic character, when the Abbot entering led him up to them, and gave him a general introduction.

"_Hermanos_!" he said, "let me present another of my comrades in misfortune, the Senor Don Florencio Kearney--an _Irlandes_--who claims the hospitality of the convent."

They all made bow, some pressing forward, and extending hands.

But there was no time for dallying over salutations. By this several dishes had been pa.s.sed through the hatch, and were steaming upon the table. So the Abbot took seat at its head, Kearney beside him; while the Texan was bestowed at its foot, alongside one who seemed to act as vice-chairman.

If the table-cloth was not one of the finest damask, nor the ware costliest china and cut gla.s.s, the repast was worthy of such. In all the world there is no _cuisine_ superior to that of Mexico. By reason of certain aboriginal viands, which figured on the table of that Aztec sybarite, Montezuma, it beats the _cuisine_ of old Spain, on which that of France is founded, and but an insipid imitation.

The monks of this mountain retreat evidently knew how to live, course after course being pa.s.sed through the hatch in a variety which seemed as if it would never end. There were pucheros, guisados, tomales, and half a score of other dishes Kearney had never before heard of, much less tasted. No wonder at their dinner of the preceding day having left such _debris_ for supper.

And the wines were in correspondence--in quality, profusion, everything.

To Kearney it recalled "Bolton Abbey in the olden time." Nor ever could the monks of that ancient establishment on the Wharfe have drunk better wines, or laughed louder while quaffing them, than they whose hospitality he was receiving on the side of the Cerro Ajusco.

Some strange speech, however, he heard pa.s.sing around him, little in consonance with what might be supposed to proceed from the lips of religious men. But, possibly, just such as came from those of the Tintern and Bolton Brethren when around the refectory table. Not all of it, though. If the talk was worldly, it savoured little of wickedness-- far less than that of the cowled fraternity of olden times, if chronicles are to be trusted. And never in convent hall could have been heard such toast as that with which the breakfast was brought to a close, when Rivas, rising to his feet, goblet in hand, the others standing up along with him, cried out--

"_Patria y Libertad_!"

Country and Liberty! Strange sentiment in such a place, and to be received with acclaim by such people!

CHAPTER FORTY THREE.

WHAT ARE THEY?

The repast finished, the Holy Brethren, rising from the table together, forsook the Refectory. Some disappeared into cloisters on the sides of the great hallway, others strolled out in front, and seating themselves on benches that were about, commenced rolling and smoking cigarittos.

The Abbot, excusing himself to his stranger guests, on plea of pressing business, was invisible for a time. So they were permitted to betake themselves apart. Good manners secured them this. The others naturally supposed they might want a word in private, so no one offered to intrude upon them.

Just what they did want, and had been anxiously longing for. They had mutually to communicate; questions to be asked, and counsel taken together. Each was burning to know what the other thought of the company they had fallen into; the character of which was alike perplexing to both.

After getting hold of their hats they sauntered out by the great door, through which they had entered on the night before. The sun was now at meridian height, and his beams fell down upon the patch of open ground in front of the monastery, for a monastery they supposed it must be. A glance backward as they walked out from its walls showed its architecture purely of the conventual style; windows with pointed arches, the larger ones heavy mullioned, and a campanile upon the roof.

This, however, without bells, and partially broken down, as was much of the outer mason work everywhere. Here and there were walls crumbling to decay, others half-hidden under ma.s.ses of creeping plants and cryptogams; in short, the whole structure seemed more or less dilapidated.

Soon they entered under the shadow of the trees; long-leaved evergreen pines loaded with parasites and epiphytes, among these several species of orchids--rare phenomenon in the vegetable world, that would have delighted the eye of a botanist. As they wished to get beyond earshot of those left lounging by the porch, they continued on along a walk which had once been gravelled, but was now overgrown with weeds and gra.s.s. It formed a cool arcade, the thick foliage meeting overhead, and screening it from the rays of the sun. Following it for about a hundred yards or so, they again had the clear sky before them, and saw they were on the brow of a steep slope--almost a precipice--which, after trending a short distance right and left, took a turn back toward the ma.s.s of the mountain. It was the boundary of the platform on which the building stood, with a still higher cliff behind.

The point they had arrived at was a prominent one, affording view of the whole valley of Mexico, that lay spread out like a picture at their feet. And such a picture! Nothing in all the panoramic world to excel--if equal it.

But as scenery was not in their thoughts, they gave it but a glance, sitting down with faces turned towards one another. For there were seats here also--several rustic chairs under shady trees--it being evidently a favourite loitering place of the friars.

"Well, Cris, old comrade," said Kearney, first to speak, "we've gone through a good deal this day or two in the way of change. What do you think of these new acquaintances of ours?"

"Thar, Cap, ye put a puzzler."

"Are they monks?"

"Wal, them is a sort o' anymals I hain't had much dealin's wi'; niver seed any till we kim inter Mexiko, 'ceptin' one or two as still hangs round San Antone in Texas. But this chile knows little u' thar ways, only from what he's heerin'; an' judgin' be that he'd say thar ain't nerry monk among 'em."

"What then? Robbers?"

"Thar, agin, Cap, I'm clean confuscated. From what we war told o' Mr Reevus in the gaol, they oughter be that. They sayed he war a captain o' _saltadores_, which means highwaymen. An' yet it do 'pear kewrous should be sich."

"From what I know of him," rejoined Kearney, "what I learned yesterday, it would be curious indeed--remarkably so. I've reason to believe him a gentleman born, and that his t.i.tle of captain comes from his having been an officer in the army."

"That mou't be, an' still wouldn't contrary his havin' turned to t'other. Down by the Rio Grande, thar are scores o' Mexikin officers who've did the same, from lootenants up to kurnels--ay, ginrals. Thar's Ca.n.a.les, who commanded the whole cavalry brigade--the 'Chaperal fox' as we Texans call him--an' thar ain't a wuss thief or cut-throat from Mantamoras up to the mountains. An' what air ole Santy hisself but a robber o' the meanest an' most dastardly sort? So, 'tain't any sign o'

honesty their bearing military t.i.tles. When they've a war on in thar revolus.h.i.+onary way, they turn sogers, atween times takin' to the road."

"Well, Cris, supposing these to be on the road now, what ought we to do, think you?"

"Neery use thinkin', Cap, since thar's no choice left us. 'Tain't die dog, or eet the hatchet; and this chile goes for chawin' the steel.

Whativer they be, we're bound to stick to 'em, an' oughter be glad o'

the chance, seein' we haint the shadder o' another. If tuk agin' we'd be strung up or shot sure. Highwaymen or lowwaymen, they're the only ones about these diggin's that kin gie us purtekshun, an' I reck'n we may rely on them for that--so far's they're able."

For a time Kearney was silent, though not thinking over what the Texan had said, much of which had pa.s.sed through his mind before. The train of his reflections was carried further back, to the point where he was first brought into contact with Rivas, by their legs getting linked together. Then forward throughout the hours and incidents that came after, recalling everything that had occurred, in act as in conversation--mentally reviewing all, in an endeavour to solve the problem that was puzzling them.

Seeing him so occupied, and with a suspicion of how his thoughts were working, the Texan forebore further speech, and awaited the result.

"If we've fallen among banditti," Kearney at length said, "it will be awkward to get away from them. They'll want us to take a hand at their trade, and that wouldn't be nice."

"Sartinly not, Cap; anything but agreeable to eyther o' us. It goes agin the grit o' a honest man to think o' belongin' to a band o'

robbers. But forced to jine 'em, that 'ud be different. Besides, the thing ain't the same in Mexico as 'twud be in Texas and the States.

Hyar 'tisn't looked on as beein' so much o' a disgrace, s'long's they don't practice cruelty. An' I've heern Mexikins say 'tain't wuss, nor yet so bad, as the way some our own poltishuns an' lawyers plunder the people. I guess it be 'bout the same, when one gits used to it."

To this quaint rigmarole of reasoning--not without reason in it, however,--Kearney only replied with a smile, allowing the Texan to continue; which he did, saying--

"After all, I don't think they're robbers any more than monks; if they be, they're wonderfully well-behaved. A perliter set o' fellers or better k.u.mp'ny this chile niver war in durin' the hull coorse of his experience in Texas, or otherwhars. They ain't like to lead us into anythin' very bad, in the way o' cruelty or killin'. So I say, let's freeze to 'em, till we find they ain't worthy of being froze to; then we must gie 'em the slip somehow."

"Ah! if we can," said his fellow-filibuster doubtingly. "But that is the thing for the far hereafter. The question is, what are we to do now?"

"No guess'n at all, Cap, as thar's no choosin' atween. We're boun' to be robbers for a time, or whatsomever else these new 'quaintances o'

ours be themselves. Thet's sure as shootin'."

"True," returned the other musingly. "There seems no help for it. It's our fate, old comrade, though one, _I_ trust, we shall be able to control without turning highwaymen. I don't think they are that. I can't believe it."