The Bandolero Part 30

Dolores had adopted her destiny. However dark it might prove, it was not for me to attempt turning it aside. She would not thank me for saving her. Sweeter would be my triumph to show her the man she had chosen for husband, in my power--a scorned captive at my feet.

So ran my ungenerous reflections.

"Let the marriage go on!" I muttered to him by my side. "She shall be wed, and--widowed!"

In all my life I never felt so spitefully cruel--so desirous of retaliation. Every spark of chivalric thought had departed from my soul.

The imperturbable Yankee made no reply. The scene inside seemed to be absorbing all his attention--as it was my own. Far different his interpretation of it. With him it was simple conjecture. He little suspected the knowledge I possessed, or the dread interest stirring within me.

We remained in the maguey, to await the conclusion of the ceremony.

We saw the ring glancing between the fingers of the bridegroom. But it came not in contact with those of the bride. Before that critical moment arrived, a change--quick as the transformation in a pantomime-- terrible as the pa.s.sage from calm to tropic storm--from life to death-- went sweeping over the scene!

A phalanx of dark forms rushed past the spot where we were crouching.

They were human--but so silent in their movements--so weird-like under the wan light--as to appear spectral!

They could not be phantoms. One or two of them touched the tips of the plant in pa.s.sing, causing its elastic blades to rebound backwards. They were forms of flesh, blood, and humanity; animated by the spirit of fiends--as in another instant they proved themselves.

We saw them by a rapid rush precipitate themselves into the open doorway--a few scattering along the facade, and taking stand by the windows.

We saw the glittering of armour. We saw spears and _machetes_ thrust through the iron bars. We heard the c.o.c.king of carbines, and the rude summons to surrender--followed by menaces of murder!

There was a short scuffle in the _saguan_, and the courtyard behind it; and then there were death groans, proceeding from the domestics, who fell stabbed upon the stones!

The two apartments appeared to be simultaneously entered. Dark shadowy forms flitted through the dining-room; but in the other the shadows were darker.

There was a rus.h.i.+ng to and fro--a changing of places--not as in a kaleidoscope, but in crowded confusion. There was screaming of women-- shouting of men--threats and curses--followed by pistol reports; and, what made the _fracas_ still more infernal, an occasional peal of diabolical laughter!

Only for a short while did this continue; so short, that I scarce believed in its reality till it was all over!

Almost at its commencement the lights in both rooms had been extinguished; but whether by chance, or design, it was impossible for us to tell.

What occurred afterwards we knew only by hearing, or from glimpses afforded by the occasional flas.h.i.+ng of firearms.

Though there was loud talking all the while that the strife continued-- with exclamations, every other one an oath--we heard nothing to give a clue to it.

Nor did we find any explanation in what followed. We could only tell, that the conflict had come to an end; that it was succeeded by the shuffling of footsteps across the paved _patio_, gradually retiring to the rear, and at length heard ascending the precipitous pine-covered slope that soared darkly above the dwelling!

As they rose higher, they grew fainter; until the only sounds distinguishable were the moanings of the Mexican owl, the hissing of the cascade below, and the sighing of the mountain breeze among the tops of the tall pine-trees.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

PADRE CORNAGA.

Astonishment still held me speechless, as it did my companion-- motionless, too, as the maguey leaves, radiating around us.

Had I known the real signification of what had just transpired, I might have acted with more prompt.i.tude, and ten times the energy.

As it was, I felt like one slowly recovering from a state of torpidity-- from an ill-digested dream!

"What does it all mean?" I inquired of the stage-driver, without stirring from my place.

"Darn'd if I know, cap'n; 'cept it air one band o' robbers that's attackted the t'other, and stripped 'em of their spoils. The conq'rors 'pear to be clean gone away, an' hev took the weemen too! They've sloped off on t'other side o' the shanty. I kin hear 'em yet, making their way up the mountain! Thar's a path there; tho' it ain't so easy to climb. I reck'n they've gone up it, toatin up the gurls along wi'

'em. The reezun _they_ ain't still screechin' is, they've got 'em eyther gagged, or _tapado_."

"_Tapado_?"

"Yes; m.u.f.fled up--thar faces covered wi' something--to hinder them from seeing their way, or singin' out. They only do it, when the weemen show refactory."

What mattered it to me? What mattered, whether Dolores Villa-Senor was the wife of one robber, or the mistress of another? Why should I care now? She could never be mine!

I stepped out from among the leaves--leisurely, as one who has no motive for making haste. There was a cold pain at my heart; a callous indifference to the fate of her who had caused it. She was welcome to go higher--to the summit of the mountain she had selected as the scene of her nuptials.

It was Ixticihuatl on whose slope we stood. The "White Sister" could be seen through the clear starlight above, reposing in spotless vestments.

How different from the robe of Dolores!

"Let her go!" was my unchivalric reflection. "She has made her own bed: let her lie upon it!"

It was not for the purpose of pursuing--at all events not with any thought of rescuing her--that I placed the call to my lips, and sounded the signal for my men.

In less than five minutes the "Rifles" were around me--their green jackets distinguishable under the brilliant beams of the moon--that on the instant sailed suddenly into sight.

On hearing the shots, and other sounds of strife, they had commenced moving up the mountain-path. Hence the promptness of their appearance.

Selecting half a dozen of them, I stepped straight into the doorway of the house. We entered without opposition--groping our way through the saguan.

Inside all was darkness; though we could tell that the place was still tenanted,--by the groans that proceeded from the adjacent chamber.

A light was struck; and we commenced exploring the apartments. In the dining-room there was no one--a banquet spread--but without guest to partake of it!

We turned into the _sala grande_--from whence proceeded the lugubrious sounds.

The scene--so late one of merriment--was now a spectacle of death!

Two men were lying along the floor. One might have been supposed asleep: as he lay quite silent. But a red rivulet, trickling from its source underneath him, and terminating on the tiles in a pool of blood-- told that it was the silence of death.

The other, also surrounded by seams of smoking gore, still lived and moved. It was he who was making moan.

On stooping over him, I recognised the features of Francisco Moreno.

They were still handsome, though terribly distorted by his struggle, as I supposed, with death.

It was no use asking an explanation from him. I saw that he did not know me!

There was a thought in my mind at the moment--an unsanctified thought.