At the Point of the Sword Part 42

"It is on Don Felipe's account I am here. What has he done? Why has he been brought here?"

"If another dared question me like this, I would answer him with a pistol shot," he cried fiercely; "but I do not forget that you are the son of Don Eduardo Crawford. Come, let us eat and forget this business."

"Will you tell me afterwards?"

"I will tell you nothing, but you shall hear for yourself. To-morrow the man will be tried, and if he is found guilty, not all South America shall save him. But we will try him fairly, and you shall bear witness to our justice."

"I want mercy!" said I.

"You do not know what you ask yet. Wait till the morning. And now come; you must not be able to accuse me of inhospitality."

The guerillas led away my horses, and I followed Sorillo to his own hut, where in a short time a plentiful meal was laid. I was both hungry 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, and suggested I should lie down.

"I am busy," said he. "Most likely I shall be up all night, but that is no reason why you should not rest. I will have you wakened in good time in the morning."

"Thank you," I answered; and as he left the hut I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes.

Though tired out, hours pa.s.sed before I was able to sleep. In the darkness I could see Rosa's white face, and hear her pitiful cry, "Save him, Juan, save him for me!"

What had he done to make Sorillo so angry? Surely he was not so bitter against every traitor? He had hinted that even I would not beg for mercy when I knew the truth. It would have to be something very dreadful, I thought, to make me forget my promise to Rosa.

And what of Don Felipe? How was he pa.s.sing the night? Did he know the charge to be brought against him in this most irregular court? and would he be able to clear himself? I wondered.

So thinking and dreaming, between sleep and wakefulness, I lay on the chief's bed, while the long hours rolled slowly away.

CHAPTER XXI.

ROUGH JUSTICE.

I did not take much rousing in the morning, and even before remembering the exact circ.u.mstances, felt oppressed by the weight of coming sorrow.

I breakfasted alone, Sorillo sending a profuse apology for not being able to join me, though I was rather glad than otherwise at his absence.

Leaving the hut, I went into the ravine. There were perhaps a hundred men in sight, all armed, and apparently waiting for some signal. Their comrades, no doubt, had been dispatched on an errand, or were guarding the neighbouring pa.s.ses. In front of Don Felipe's hut stood a sentry, and, somewhat to my surprise, I now noticed a second hut, slightly lower down and similarly guarded.

"Two prisoners!" I thought. "I wonder who the other is? Sorillo did not mention him."

Nearer the head of the ravine some soldiers were at work, and going towards them I beheld a strange and significant sight. In the side of the hill was a natural platform, broad and s.p.a.cious, while round it stretched in a semicircle a wide stone seat, which the men were covering with bright red cloth. Below the platform stood a ring of soldiers with impa.s.sive faces.

I was still wondering what this might mean, when Sorillo, touching my arm, led me to the centre of the stone seat, saying, "Sit there; you shall be a witness that the people of the Silver Key treat their enemies justly."

Rather reluctantly I took the seat indicated. Sorillo sat next me, and six officers, ascending the platform, took their places, three on either side of us. That portion of the seat occupied by the chief was slightly raised; but this, of course, makes no difference to the story.

At a signal from Sorillo the door of Don Felipe's hut was opened, and the prisoner came out escorted by two armed men. The soldiers, opening to right and left, made way for him, and by means of the boulders, which served as steps, he climbed to the platform.

In spite of my prejudice against the man, I rejoiced to see how boldly he held himself. He appeared to have summoned to his aid all the pride of his dead-and-gone ancestors. He glanced contemptuously at the gigantic Sorillo, and meeting my eyes, smiled defiantly. As to the officers, he did not give them even a look.

[Ill.u.s.tration: He glanced contemptuously at the gigantic Sorillo.]

"Thank goodness," said I to myself, "no one can call Rosa's father a coward!"

Then Sorillo began to speak, clearly and distinctly, but with no note of anger in his voice.

"Don Felipe Montilla," he said, "you are brought here by order of the Society of the Silver Key." Don Felipe's lips curled as if in amus.e.m.e.nt. "It is charged against you that you, having taken the oath of loyalty to the government, have since been in traitorous communication with the Royalist leaders. Do you deny or admit the charge?"

Don Felipe shrugged his shoulders carelessly, saying, "A truce to your mummery! Do you think I would plead for my life to a band of cut-throats? What care I for your society?"

I thought this outburst would provoke his captors beyond measure, but, as far as I could judge, it produced no effect at all. They sat quite still, as if the remarks had been addressed to others.

"It is our custom," continued Sorillo, "to give those brought before us every chance to defend themselves. We are not lawyers; we do not juggle with words; our one desire is to get at the truth."

"By St. Philip," muttered Montilla, "this is the last place I should have thought to find it in!"

"For this reason," continued the chief, ignoring the sarcastic interruption, "the story shall be told plainly, and then you will understand exactly what you are charged with. Three nights ago we stopped a man returning from Lima. Many times he had gone to and fro unmolested, protected by a pa.s.s from Riva-Aguero. At last he was recognized by one of our men as Pardo Lurena, an utterly worthless man, who had already changed sides several times during the war."

"He would have made a good recruit for you," remarked Montilla.

"Suspecting this man, we had him watched," continued the chief, again pa.s.sing over the interruption, "and found that always he went to your house, senor, returning under the cover of night. We knew you to be an excellent Patriot, yet the circ.u.mstance made us uneasy. At length we decided to ignore the president's pa.s.sport. Lurena was stopped and searched, with this result," and he flourished a letter before the prisoner.

Don Felipe must have known by now how helpless his case was; but he only smiled. In truth, at this crisis of his life he showed no want of pluck.

"There is much in this letter," said the chief mercilessly. "It contains a full list of the troops just dispatched to the south, and of those still remaining in Lima, with an exact statement as to the quant.i.ty of their stores and ammunition. It describes their position, and advises General Canterac how he can best enter Lima and seize Callao. It provides also a list of those who will join him, and stipulates that the writer shall keep not only his own estates, but shall be given those of which he has lately been deprived."

At this last revelation Don Felipe changed colour somewhat, and withdrew his eyes from my face.

"This letter," said Sorillo, "came from your house; it is signed F. M., and I charge you with having written it. Can you deny that it is in your handwriting?"

The prisoner seemed to have regained self-possession, for looking steadily at Sorillo, he exclaimed, "A gentleman of Spain does not answer the questions of a mountain robber."

Pa.s.sing the letter to me, Sorillo said, "You know this man's handwriting; perhaps you will satisfy yourself that he wrote this letter?"

"No," said I coldly, thrusting the paper away; "I will be neither judge nor witness in this case."

"Very well," answered the chief; "let the second prisoner be brought forward." And two men immediately fetched Pardo Lurena from his hut.

He was still a young man, but looked old. His eyes were s.h.i.+fty and cunning, his lips full and thick; he did not seem to be at all the kind of man to play so daring a game. Don Felipe looked at him so scornfully that he turned away his face in confusion. He gave his answers clearly, however, and told the story from beginning to end without a tremor.

It was as Sorillo had said. The fellow admitted being a Royalist spy employed in carrying messages between General Canterac and Montilla.

The Don, he declared, had procured him the pa.s.s signed by Riva-Aguero, and had given him the letter now in the guerilla chief's possession.

Don Felipe never once interrupted him either by word or gesture; to look at him, one would have thought he was merely a spectator, with no interest in the matter one way or another. But when at last the tale ended, and Sorillo called upon him to speak, his att.i.tude changed.

"Do your murders your own way," he cried defiantly. "If the farce pleases you, play it. What has it to do with me? When I am accused of crime by the government of my country, I will answer."