Carmen Ariza Part 64

"I will cut off the hand that is laid on Juan!" cried Lazaro, advancing.

"Men! Men! Don Mario and Fernando, go now! Enough of this! And for G.o.d's sake think twice before you make any further move!"

Don Mario and his constable departed in sullen silence. Jose let Lazaro out through the rear door, while he bade Juan pa.s.s the night in the parish house. A consultation was held with Dona Maria, and it was arranged that Carmen should sleep in the room with Jose, with Juan lying before the door, until Rosendo should return from the mountains.

Then Jose sat down and wrote to the Bishop.

No reply came from Cartagena until Rosendo returned at the end of the month. Meanwhile, Jose had never for a moment permitted Carmen to leave his side. The child chafed under the limitation; but Jose and Dona Maria were firm. Juan lived with the priest; and Lazaro lurked about the parish house like a shadow. The Alcalde and his constable remained discreetly aloof.

But with Rosendo's return came letters from both Wenceslas and Diego.

The latter had laid aside his unction, and now made a curt and peremptory demand upon Jose for the child. The letter from Wenceslas was noncommittal, stating only that he was quite uninformed of Diego's claim, but that an investigation should be made. Jose wondered if he had blundered in laying the case before him.

_"Hombre!"_ e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Rosendo, when he heard Jose's story. "It is as I feared! And now the Bishop has the matter in hand! _Caramba!_ We shall lose her yet!

"And, Padre," he added, "the deposit is played out. There is no more gold there. And, now that we shall have none to send to the Bishop each month, Carmen's fate is settled--unless we go away. And where shall we go? We could not get out of the country." He hung his head and sat in gloomy dejection.

For more than a year Rosendo had panned the isolated alluvial deposit, and on his regular monthly returns to Simiti he and the priest had sent from thirty to ninety _pesos_ gold to Wenceslas. To this Jose sometimes added small amounts collected from the people of Simiti, which they had gratuitously given him for Ma.s.ses and for the support of the parish. Wenceslas, knowing the feeble strength of the parish, was surprised, but discreet; and though he continually urged Jose to greater efforts, and held out the allurements of "indulgences and special dispensations," he made no inquiries regarding the source of the monthly contributions.

For many days following, Rosendo and the priest went about as in a thick, black cloud. "Rosendo," said Jose at length, "go back to the mountains and search again. G.o.d was with us before. Have we any reason to doubt Him now?"

"And leave Carmen here, exposed to the danger that always hangs over her? _Caramba_, no! I would not go back now even if the deposit were not worked out! No!" Jose knew it would be futile to urge him.

Carmen came to the priest that same day. "Padre, I heard you and padre Rosendo talking this morning. Have you no money, no gold?"

"Why, child--there seems to be a need just at present," he replied lightly. "But we might--well, we might send another of your questions to G.o.d. What say you?"

"Of course!" she cried delightedly, turning at once and hurrying away for pencil and paper.

"Now," she panted, seating herself at the table. "Let us see; we want Him to give us _pesos_, don't we?"

"Yes--many--a large sum. Make it big," he said facetiously.

"Well, you know, Padre dear," she replied seriously, "we can't ask for too much--for we already have everything, haven't we? After all, we can only ask to see what we really already have.

"Say 'yes,' Padre dear," she pleaded, looking up appealingly at him staring silently at her. Oh, if she could only impart to him even a little of her abundant faith! She had enough, and to spare!

"Well, here it is," she said, holding out the paper.

He took it and read--"Dear, dear G.o.d: Padre Jose needs _pesos_--lots of them. What shall he do?"

"And now," she continued, "shall we put it under the altar of the old church?"

He smiled; but immediately a.s.sumed an expression of great seriousness.

"Why not in the church here, the one we are using? The other is so far away?" he suggested. "And it is getting dark now."

"But--no, we will go where we went before," she concluded firmly.

Again he yielded. Taking matches and a piece of candle, he set off with the girl in a circuitous route for the hill, which they gained un.o.bserved. Within the musty old church he struck a light, and they climbed over the _debris_ and to the rear of the crumbling altar.

"See!" she cried joyously. "Here is my other question that He answered! Doesn't He answer them quick though! Why, it took only a day!"

She drew the old paper from beneath the adobe brick. Then she hesitated. "Let us put this question in a new place," she said. "Look, up there, where the bricks have fallen out," pointing to the part of the altar that had crumbled away.

Jose rose obediently to execute the commission. His thought was far off, even in Cartagena, where sat the powers that must be held quiet if his cherished plans were not to fail. He reached out and grasped one of the projecting bricks to steady himself. As he did so, the brick, which was loose, gave way with him, and he fell, almost across Carmen, followed by a shower of rubbish, as another portion of the old altar fell out.

_"Hombre!"_ he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, picking himself up. "What good luck that the candle was not extinguished! And now, senorita, are you willing that we should bury this important question here on the floor; or must I again try to put it in the altar itself?"

"Up there," insisted the child, laughing and still pointing above.

He rose and looked about, searching for a convenient place to deposit the paper. Then something attracted his attention, something buried in the altar, but now exposed by the falling out of the fresh portion. It was metal, and it glittered in the feeble candle light. He reached in and hastily sc.r.a.ped away more of the hard mud. Then, trembling with suppressed excitement, he pulled out another brick. Clearly, it was a box that had been buried in there--who knows when? He gave the candle to Carmen and bade her stand up close. Then with both hands he carefully removed the adjacent bricks until the entire box was in view.

_"Hombre!"_ he muttered. "What do you suppose this is? A box--"

"Oh!" exclaimed the girl in delight. "A box to put our question in, Padre!"

"More likely the answer itself, child!" muttered the excited priest, straining and tugging away at it. "Carmen! Stand aside!" he suddenly commanded. "Now--" He gave a final pull. A crash of falling bricks followed; the candle was extinguished; and both he and the child were precipitated to the floor.

"Carmen!" called the priest, choking with dust, "are you hurt?"

"No, Padre dear," came the laughing answer through the darkness. "But I'm pretty full of dust. And the candle is buried."

Jose groped about for the box. It lay near, a small, wooden coffer, bound about with two narrow bands of steel. He dragged it out and bore it down the aisle to the door, followed by Carmen.

"Padre!" she exclaimed eagerly. "What is it?"

He dusted it off and examined it carefully in the fast fading light.

It was some twelve inches square by three deep, well made of mahogany, and secured by a small, iron padlock. On the top there was a crest of arms and the letters, "I de R," burned into the wood.

Night had closed in, and the priest and girl made their way hurriedly back home by way of the lake, to avoid being seen. Under his ca.s.sock Jose carried the box, so heavy that it chafed the skin from his hip as they stumbled along.

"Carmen, say nothing--but tell your padre Rosendo to come to me at once!"

With the doors secured, and Carmen and Dona Maria standing guard outside to apprise them of danger, Jose and Rosendo covertly examined the discovery.

"I de R!" pondered Rosendo, studying the box. Then--"_Caramba!_ Padre--_Caramba!_ It is _Ignacio de Rincon!_ _Hombre!_ And the crest--it is his! I have seen it before--years and years ago!

_Caramba!_ _Caramba!_" The old man danced about like a child.

"Ignacio de Rincon! Your grandfather!" he kept exclaiming, his eyes big as saucers. Then, hastening out to get his iron bar, he returned and with a blow broke the rusty padlock. Tearing open the hinged cover, he fell back with a loud cry.

Before their strained gaze, packed carefully in sawdust, lay several bars of yellow metal. Rosendo took them out with trembling hands and laid them upon the floor. "Gold, Padre, gold!" he muttered hoa.r.s.ely.

"Gold, buried by your grandfather! _Caramba!--_

"Hold these, Padre!" hurrying out and returning with a pair of homemade wooden balances. Again and again he carefully weighed the bars. Then he began to calculate. It seemed to Jose that the old man wasted hours arriving at a satisfactory result.

"Padre," he finally announced in tones which he strove vainly to control, "there cannot be less than six thousand _pesos oro_ here!"

Jose drew a long breath. "Six thousand _pesos_--twenty-four thousand francs! It is a fortune! Rosendo, we are rich!"