Beadle's New York Dime Library (no. 74) (1879 08 13)
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2 The Captain of the Rifles; THE QUEEN OF THE LAKES, A Romance of the Mexican Valley, BY CAPT. MAYNE REID. CHAPTER I. AN ODD ENCOUNTER, “TapRONES! Socorro! Socorro!” The cry reached my ears as I was sauntering home to my quarters in the city of Mexico. Though the words were Spanish, I knew it to be ** Robbers! Help!”—a shout far from uncom- mon in the Mexican capital. To a soldier such is en should not be in vain; and drawing sword, I ran in the direction of the voice. It seemed to issue from a side-street— narrow, and pitch dark; for it was a late hour of the night, and only the dimmest of oil lamps flickered at distances far apart. Turn- ing into the street, I paused to listen, expecting to hear the cry repeated. Instead, silence pro- found. The robbers had garroted their victim, or murdered him outright! No! The hush was but momentary, quickly succeeded by some angry words; then the hur- ried trampling of feet, with a clash of steel as in the play of sword-blades. Guided by these sounds I ran on, soon to reach the nearest of the lamps, by the light of which I made out the figures of two men leap- ing about, and lunging at one another with bared blades. They were to all appearance, en- gaged in a deadly combat, and so earnestly as to preclude speech, or even shouting. By their dress they were Mexicans, one wielding a rapier, the other a common macheté; and that the had not long before thrust one another throug was because both had been shielding their bodies with something wrapped around the left arm— one a cloth cloak, the other a serapé. Just as I got up, he with the macheté made a slip on the stones, and the rapier was about be- ing pushed between his ribs, when, with a down cut of my cavalry saber, I broke the slender blade in twain. The man thus saved from what looked like certain death, and further safe by his adversa: being practically disarmed, would, I supposed, aa Re ground, and proceed to explain things. Instead, soon as feeling himself fairly balanced on his feet, he gave a grunt of relief, and dart- ed off into the darkness, leaving me to settle scores with the other; whom, from his getting ~ better of the fight, I took to be the assail- ant, ri ga square to him, with saber upraised, I. cried ou “Surrender, or I cut you down!” “To you, Sefior Capitan, I surrender with the greate good will; all the more readily ,that ou’ve left me but a lame weapon with which further defend myself. Let me tell you, how- ever, that you're laboring under a mistake, and in this little affair have taken the wrong side. For which I shall expect you to make good m old watch, that scoundrel has carried off wit hin But for you I should have recovered it, besides sending the fellow to a place where he wouldn’t have the chance of picking any more pockets.” ‘*You were not the aggressor, then? It was you who cried ‘ Socorro? “Of course it was. I shouted at first, when I felt a hand tugging at my guard-chain; in the darkness I thought there might be half a score footpads around me. Seeing only one, I could ill brook being despoiled Me oper so I drew to protect my property. ortunately he had 34 possession of the watch before we came to Fieve, and, thanks to dead interference—well meant, no doubt—he it now. So, Sefior Capitan, as an officer and a gentleman, I trust to your seeing the time-piece restored, or what to me will be the same, recouping its cost. It’s one of Losada’s best, and stood me twenty do- ee oye? m surprise was already great, it was not lessen b listening to this extraordinary speech. 6 ludicrous side of it first struck me, and I was di to treat the whole thing as a jest, at the same time inclined to resent it as an impertinence. But during our brief dialogue we had sauntered into the main street, where there was a better light from the lamps, and by this making closer scrutiny of the man, I saw it would be no jesting matter should I refuse com- liance with his demand. I had by chance seen im before, and knew he was an officer of the Mexican army; one of those we had taken pris- oner during our brief campaign in the Valley previous to the capitulation of the city itself. I may here mention, that the army to which I be- longed was that of the United States—invaders, conquerors, and now quartered in the enemy’s capital. Many of these, our prisoners on pa- role, were also residing there; associating with us, their captors, in a semi-friendly way—some Beadle’s Dime Library. altogether friendly, others maintaining a haughty, suspicious reserve. They met us at the monté tables, sat side by side in the theaters, and hobnobbed with us in the drinking saloons, which under Yankee patronage had sprung up, mushroom-like, all over the city. It further chanced that I knew this particular individual both by name and title—Captain Rafael More- no, a soldier of good standing, with the repute of being ready to call out his man if occasion required. So that if I did not get restitution of his watch, or make good the value thereof, I might look for a challenge from him; which, aged though he was, I would not dare to de- cline. I may truthfully say, it was no thought or fear of this which influenced me in assenting to his conditions. For I did assent to them, after a moment’s reflection, soon as discovering that his tale was true, and I was dealing with a gen- tleman. My reason for doing so was twofold. First, the justice of hisdemand. Clearly had I hindered him from recovering the contents of his filched fob—twenty doubloons’ worth; and as clearly was I in honor bound to see the amount made good. My second reason was of a quite different nature. In addition to know- ing the name of this Captain Moreno, with his character asa soldier, I was further aware of his being one of those Mexicans friendly to us, by their fellow-countrymen contemptousuly termed ‘“ Ayankieados.” There were many such among the upper class—the familias prin- Cmpctles—who, wearied out with constantly recur- ring revolutions and the rule of the sword, would have been glad to accept citizenship under the banner of the Stars and Stripes. Considering all this, without further hesitation I consented to his terms, saying: > ‘“‘ Well, sefior, twenty doubloons is a large sum of money—rather unpleasant having to part with for a mistake; especially one meant as an act of humanity. But you say the watch cost you that, and taking your word, I agree either to get it restored, or pay you the amount specified. I might as well have omitted the former clause, and paid him the cash down, or taken him to my quarters and there handed it over; for as to finding the pickpocket, that. was all moonshine. In the city of Mexico, at this par- ticular time, thieves were as thick as black- rries, ‘* Just what I would have cted of you!” was the Mexican’s rejoinder. ‘For although I haven’t the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with Hl Capitan Maynard, as you see, | know his name, and something besides, which I need- n’t speak of now... If I mistake not, we’ve met at the Fonda de Espiritu Santo, several times.” ‘*We have; I remember you well.” “* Muy bien, Capitan. And now I have an- other propeenl to make, which if you accept with like good-will, we shall meet there again, and in a more friendly manner.” ‘So prefaced, I could not do otherwise than accept—even without knowing what it is.” “Tt is this, then: if you don’t find the footpad and recover my reloja—two things as unlikely as any probabilities may be—I shall still insist on your paying the forfeit. But not in cash, unless you prefer it that way. I would far ra- ther have it disbursed in payment for a supper; to be eaten by six gentlemen; half of them your friends, half mine.” “ Agreed!” I cried, instantly closing with his conditions, the liberality of which was in “eA ing with the character I had heard of the man. ‘* Bueno! That’s settled; to me in a more satisfactory way than before. And now, sefior, may I beg an exchange of cards?” We <cabaas ed them; and after some further words, mutually warm, sealing our new-formed friendship, we bade ‘‘ Buenas noches !” he turn- ing toward the city, I continuing on to my uarters—a sort of suburban outpost, by the aseo de las Vigas. CHAPTER IL THE VISION OF THE PASEO DE LAS VIGAS. WHILE sojourning in the Mexican capital, I was a frequent promenader on the Paseo called “Tas Vigas,” which lies on the eastern side of the city. It isa public drive, ride, or walk, as you may wish it; and though by far the pleas- antest, not the most fashionable—this being the “* Paseo Nuevo” sometimes named De Bucarelli from the Italian employed in laying it out. It is on the opposite, or western side; for in the Mexican metropolis, as in London, the west end is that favored by fashion, while the east is more the dwelling-place of the people. But, as in London, there are also “slums” and dan- gerous dens in the very center of the city. At a certain season of the year, that of Cuaresma, or Lent, the Paseo Nuevo is for- saken; the ¢lite of society transferring its patronage to Las Vigas. Then the latter is crowded with handsome equipages, gallants on horseback, and well-dressed promenaders afoot. Only for a few days does this intrusion of ' grandeeism continue, the brilliant throng disap- (6 EE aE es EE 8 08 ee ee Eee ee ee eee a Ee ee ee eee en ee ee ae ee ee er ee ee ee ee ee eS es ee —s peorins as suddenly as it showed itself, leaving as Vigas not quite deserted, but in occupation of those to whom it more exclusively belongs— the denizens of the east-end, shopkeepers and proletarians. In this, its normal condition, I liked Las Vigas the better; for then and there one saw the Mexican people chez eux menus, their native customs and manners unaltered by foreign in- fluence; their national costumes free from any mixture of the outre mer. Alongside this interesting drive runs the canal, Santa Anita, which unites the navigation of Lake Tezcoco with that of Xochimilco; thence yassing on into the Laguna de Chalco. It is, in act, the main water-way by which the produce of the south-eastern portion of the Valley is conveyed to the capital. Not a canal, in the European sense of the word, since it has neither tow-path, nor the ordinary kind of canal boats to be towed. Instead, the craft that navigate Santa Anita are, for the most part, flat punts of the bread-basket pattern, propelled by poles, with scarce a stick of difference between them and those which came crowding round, and ob- structed the brigantine of Cortez. And not much more difference in their crews: the same bronze-colored, black-haired men; for all, or nearly all, who dwell around Lakes Chalco and Xochimilco are Indians of the Aztec race—their blood unmixed as when Moctezuma and Guati- mozin reigned over them. Itis they who chiefly manage the traffic of the lakes, carrying their commodities to the markets of the capital. And such commodities! Think of Ceres, with her riches; Flora, with her charms; Pomona, with her treasures—you can see all there. One boat will be laden with golden heads of maize, from the Chalco plain, or it may be chilé, frijoles, and garbanzas; another carries the produce of a tropical clime —the tierra caliente—tfruits of countless kinds and colors, brought on mule- back, and as often on man’s back, across the southern sierras, many a long league before be- ing launched upon the lakes; a third transports a freight the product of the tierra templada— the Valley itself—kitchen vegetables, fruits and flowers, some of them grown in gardens which float upon the surface of the water! Something besides is seen in these boats, on which the eye may sige Aha beauty, oft of the rarest kind. For many of the dark- skinned daughters of Anahuac are fair withal, ossessing such charms as those of the beauti- ul maid, Malinché, who made captive the heart of Cortez. Standing by the side of Santa Anita, gazing down upon the boats, as they pass to the market of San Domingo, at these berry-brown damsels, with roses entwined in their crow-black tresses, and other roses on their cheeks; with lips red as the blossoms of the grenadine—oft parted in smiles, displaying snow-white and regularly-set teeth between; listening to their merry laugh- ter, or it may be a song; perchance seeing them. dance, to the tinkle of guitar or jarana—one who has been witness to all this will not wonder at my preference for the Paseo de las Vigas. Luckily for me the place was near, almost contiguous to my quarters; an old dilapidated barrack, the quondam cuartel of a Mexican cavalry regiment, in which for four mortal months I was condemned to dwell. The detachment I had charge of, a company of U. S. Mounted Rifles, had been assigned to it, and there, nolens volens, we must abide. A residence at first not at all to my liking; and I must confess that for a time I scarce did honest duty by my command. Far pleasanter was it to idle around the Plaza Grande, or the ‘Street of the Silversmiths;” and this pleasure I too much indulged in, during hours nocturnal as diurnal. But only for the first fortnight or so; after which came a change in my predilec- tions, thus brought about: One morning, after dismissing my men from parade, I was sauntering down the Paseo, now and then casting a glance at the canal, along which the country boats were passing to the city. As usual, in many of them were women and young girls, having charge of the vege tables, fruit and flowers; some even handling the oars or paddles. In the market they woul preside over the sale of their commodities, as do some pretty Jewesses in Covent Garden. Most of their faces I had repeatedly seen_be- fore, and gave them but a cursory glance. One, however, that was new to me, called for some- thing more—nay, demanded it. It was that of a girl, not long entered on her teens, but as much a woman as would be one of our cold Northland passing out of them. Her bust, ra- ther décolletée, a age thin camisa, that so scantily covered it, showed the rounding of maturity; while above rose a neck smooth as a quail’s, supporting a head of shape symmetri- cally classic, to which both face and features were in correspondence. Her long black hair, plaited and coiled cable-like over her crown, was encircled by a wreath of white flowers, the blossoms of the cacalo-sutschil (blumeria), the favorite flower of the Aztec Indians. I had looked upon queen wearing her jeweled crown, and duchess under her gemmed coronet, but. never saw I queen or duchess who could compare, either in dignity or grace, with that —— a _
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nll ee ee —s. » Captain of the iviiies. 3 simple daughter of a Southern land, her head ‘* Ah! caballero; the coat don’t.always. make enfilleted with the flowers of her clime. She seemed, in truth, a very vision, a thing ethereal; or, if earthly, something upon which Nature had expended its choicest handiwork. t was some seconds before J could take my eyes off her; but the boat was gliding onward, and I cast a quick glance over it to see how she was accOmpanied. That glance gave me no very satisfactory feeling. A fine-looking young fellow. was rowing the eraft—a sort of skiff- he, like herself, being an Indian, and as she, of distinguished mien. Was he a brother, or might he be her husband? Though but a beardiess youth, in Mexico I had seen husbands young as 1e, and wives younger than she—hundreds of them! Whatever the relation to her; he was to be envied. ‘‘ Who jis she?’ I asked of a showily-dressed man who stood beside me, his eyes, as my own, seemingly riveted on the girl. “ Ohingara! what’s that to you?” was the re- sponse in Mexican Billingsgate—he who made it drawing his purple manga up over his chin, and striding sulkily away. I thought of following and calling him to ac- count for his rudeness; but it just occurred to me that the question I had asked was one I should not care: to make public, as it might be by my grounding a quarrel upon it, It was not unanswered, however; another bystander, who had heard it put, volunteering the response: “Una chinampera, S’ior Capitan,” said he, raising the hat from his head, and courteously saluting. * Thanks!” T rejoined, returning the bow of this more obliging individual, whose somewhat threadbare habiliments were in singular con- trast with his graceful bearing, ‘‘ ’'m indebted to you for politeness, but as yet not much infor- mation, since I haven’t the most distant idea of what a chinampera is. Perhaps you will ena lighten me!” * Con mucho gusto, sfior ; though I thought everybody knew that. But, as you say you don’t, [ take pleasure in informing you that a chinampero—or chinampera, if it be a woman —is one’ who cultivates a chinampa, otherwise ealled a floating garden.” ‘* Ah! now I comprehend, that?” ‘*No; not the cultivating part. That is her father’s affair, assisted by the brother—the mu- chacho you saw rowing the boat.” Her brother, then! 1 breathed freely. ‘* Her business,” continued my informant, ‘‘is to sell the flowers in the Mercada de San Do- mingo where they’re just taking a cargo now. Ah! she'll soon get rid of them. No end of pur- cbasers at her stall—young ricos, ready to pay any price shemay ask. Carrai! I'd like myself to be making money, as fast and easily as La chinampera bella.” ‘*Oh! she is called the beautiful chinampera, is she?” ‘“ Usually so, by us inthe city here. At home, and among her own people, she’s better known Le Reina de los Lagos.” “The Queen of the Lakes! A very pretty and poetical appellation. But why so styled, pray?’ “ Well, shor, that isn’t so much of a mistake as one might suppose, There’s many a queen upon the throne, who hasn’t any better preten- sions than she. For she is of royal blo ey from some ancient Aztec prince or king; at least, so I’ve heard said. However, it isn’t altogether for that they call her queen, but as much on ac- count of her grand waysand great beauty. She ie 5 : cs is very beautiful, you’ll admit that, Capitan?” “Why, yes; fairly good-looking,” I rejoined, with an assumed air of indifference, for I did not want him to be aware ~ef the interest with which she had inspired-me. Then, continuing, in the same careless way: ‘‘ Where might her Lake Majesty live?” ‘** With her father, of course, on their chinam- pa. That’s in Lake Chalco.” “The father has a name, I suppose; some ® aztec cognomen?” “Oh! yes; he has that, I believe, among his own people, of whom he’s a sort. of head man or cacique, But, as you may be aware, our In- dians are Christianized, and good Catholics as any of us. Of course he’s been baptized like the rest. In the city here we call him Don Tito, the Alealde, as he bolds that office in his floating village.” ‘‘There’s a whole village of these chinampas then?” ‘* Por cierto, s’nor ; more than one puanteinn of them in different placés around the several lakes. That of which the Sefior Tito is chief magistrate is one of the largest, a row of Jiuer- tas nearly a mile long.” ‘‘Tndeed? it must be a very curious collec- tion.” “Tt is all yousay. Perhaps your excellency would like to pay a visit to it? If so—” “Oh! no, no,” I said, ‘cutting the proposal short. There was something in his manner I did not exactly like, and Thad got all the infor- mation I then wanted. To give him his congé T added: ‘‘ Let me once more thank you for your civility, in pleasant contrast with what I re- And. does she do the man, as your excellency has no doubt proved by experience.. Though I am but a poor devil, I trust I know how to behave myself in a becom- ing manner.” As his dress betokened, he belonged to the class indifferently styled leperos or pelados— the lazzaroni of Mexico—beggars or thieves as it may be, but with powers of conversation and | a grace of deportment many a gentleman might be proud of. ‘* As for him,” he added, referring to the man in. the purple manga, “his rudeness. to you, S‘for Capitan, can be easily accounted for.” “Tn what way?’ “The old story. He’s enamorado.” “You know him, then?” ** Not much; but that I know. He’s in love with La bella to the very tips of his fingers, and can’t bear any one even to ae at her.’ *Tndeed, can’t he? Well, my good man, I’m indebted to you for the information -you’ve given me. Permit me to thank you with this.” I held out a bit of silver, expecting to see his eyes sparkle, and his fingers eagerly stretched forth to clutch it.. But.1 saw neither one nor the other. tered sombrero, and giving it a graceful sweep round his head, he rejoined: ‘** Muchos gracias, caballero ! But your money I cannot take; gratitude forbids,” “ Gratitude! For what?” ‘For a service your excellency did me.” ** A service I did you! You must be mistak- en, my good fellow. goes, I never set eyes on you before.” ‘“You have, S’hor Capitan; and, as I say, done me a service, worth at the very lowest es- timate a good three hundred. pesos. Ah! in a certain sense worth far more.” ** When, and where?” **No matter about the when and the where. Be content to know that your humble servant is grateful.” ** Certainly you seem so, but—” ‘* But,” he interrupted, catching up the con- | I | represented this in the eyes of that Indian girl, junction, ‘‘if you’re not. satisfied with words, give me an opportunity to prove it by deeds.” “Tn what way would you?” ‘Well, S'ior Capitan, in a way I fancy will | be agreeable to you,” Saving which he came close up, with a signifi- cant leer on his swarthy features, and added, in Instead, once more raising his bat- | So far as my recollection | | | undertone: ‘Of course, caballero, ’m aware | how much you admire La bella. half an eye could see that Any one with as you stood gazing | words of command. Was it thi down at her in the boat. Now, though I’m only | a poor devil, with a ragged wrap over my shoul- ders, I know a thing or two. . Besides, I have the honor of a personal acquaintance with the Q@ueen of the Lakes; and if your excellency feels disposed for a little bit of flirtation—una cosita pI amor—I’m your man to bring it about.” ‘* Scoundrel!” I exclaimed, indignantly re- pelling his proposal, at the same time turning my back upon him and walking away. Before I Sal gone far, some instinct, curiosit or otherwise, prompted me to take another look at him. Glancing over my shoulders, I saw he was still in the same place, standing as if trans- fixed, the expression upon his features more of astonishment than anger. Possibly, during all his experience as an alcahtete—for I took that to be his calling—he had never met with such a rebuff, CHAPTER IIL. UNDER THE EYES OF THE QUEEN. From that day the Calle de Plateros had less attractions for me, and the Paseo de las Vigas more. Every morning at a certain hour, I would find myself sauntering along the canal’s edge; looking out for a flower-laden boat, for that flower fairest of all—their Queen. Nor did I look in vain. Shecame; though, as I soon learnt, not daily, but only twice a week; learning also to time my strolls to her periodi- cal advent. The brother was always with her, he being patron and sole oarsman of the skiff. A handsome youth, as already said, with a cast of features quite different from those I had ob- served among the common people of his race. By inquiry I had ascertained, that, so far, the pelado’s story was true, They were of noble, even mor origin; could claim. descent from one of the court of Moctezuma, and fell with Guatimozin. There are many such in Mexico. Not so great, then, the inaccuracy in her being styled Queen. Had Cortez never come there, she would in all likelihood have-been at least a princess. I saw her again, on several occasions—each time only the more to admire her—till, at length, she almost wholly engrossed my thoughts, or made me think of. little else than how to engage hers in return, A difficult task it turned out, and for long seeming hopeless. I cannot recall the number of times I stopped that flower-boat, purchased bouquets, the costliest it carried, only to fling ceived from that surly fellow in the fine clothes.” | them into the nearest ditch, as soow as she was ztecan princes who figured in the | out of sight. All to no purpose; the Queen of the Lakes was not to be thus wooed, or won... I was but throwing away my time, as well as the dearly-bought flowers. Thad at length grown gx ged of success, when an accident occurred which aaye strength to my hopes, hitherto feeble. In the army whose uniform I wore it was a rigorous rule to hold morning and evening parade, even upon outpost duty, and however small the detach- ment. It was done for the sake of discipline and keeping up an esprit du corps; and of course I had to conform to the re tion. The ground where I was in the habit of holding mine was at the upper end of the Paseo, a wide open space in eyery way suitable for the pur- se. One day I had just dismissed my men rom this ornamental exercise—evening parade it was—and was wheeling my horse round to ride off, when two faces caught my glance showing above the bank of the canal—soon as catching, need I say. fixing it? For one of them belonged to La bella. e second was her bro- ther’s, and I could see that they were both standing up in their boat; could tell, moreover, that they had been so for some time, by the skiff nay fenntgesc on the water. Evidently they had been watching our parade, wonderin at it, since this expression still pervaded their features, They Hey. have witnessed’ cavalry evolutions before, but not with such large horses, and in their eyes giant-like men. A troop of Mexican dragoons, on their-diminutive mustangs, by the side of mine would have ap- peared very pigmies. Seeing it was all over, the young Indian dropped down upon the midship thwart of his boat, and was making to pull off. But the girl still kept upon her feet, her eyes bent on me, as I fancied, with. an expression of some interest. It was the first time I had been so favored: and, possibly, I thought of a reason. If wo- man, savage or civilized, can be at all won, the suitor whose chances are best is he who may ap- pear in the guise of the warrior god, and under a panoply of armor, . That, after a fashio wouid be sham modesty in me not to admit be- lieving. Hitherto she had known me but as one of her many customers, officers as civilians, who purchased her flowers, perchance paying her pretty compliments along with their money. Now she saw me at the h of my troo) hale a hundred splendid fellows in brilliant uniform, whose minds obeyed mine as they moved to the had gained me those glances of interest, or, as I would fain have believed it, admiration? Whether or no, I felt as one who had achieved a triumph. Spurring my horse close up to the canal’s edge, and raising my cap, I saluted her, There were no flowers in the skiff now; it was return- ing from the market, as a matter of course empty; so I felt rather at a loss for some sub- ject. to open conversation with. Possibly had the brother not been there, I might more easily have found one. Besides, he seemed impatient to be gone, which also aided in discon me. Ungrateful young rascal, after the many | bouquets I had bought, and the score of pesos | paid him! However, I at length bethought me of a theme which I hoped would detain him. Addressing myself to the sister, who was the older of the two, I said: “Seforita, [envy you your home upon the waters. I’m told you live upon a sort of float- ing island; a garden growing only flowers. It must be a very. Eden!” ‘*Oh, sefior!” she rejoined, seeming scarce to comprehend my florid and figurative speeches, ‘* we live upon a chinampa.” “Just so. And that’s the very thing I wish to make acquaintance with. ese gardens alongside the canal here are not real chinam: - pies Mgt they as ne pes ei referred to some patches o: elogram form, with water-ditches between, on which kitchen vegetables are grown. peg fie along: side the canal, a short. distance ond_ the lower end of the Paseo; little lions of the Mexi- can capital, shown to strangers as the “ chin-. ampas. “They're not,” emphatically pronounced the girl’s brother, now for the first time a pearing to become interested in what was betng sai ‘“Chinampas!” he added, with a scornful toss o* the head; ‘por. Dios, no! They’re nothing q. the sort,” His professional amour propre was evidently touched. “T thought they could not be,” was my re- joinder, spoken with a suavity still further to conciliate him. ‘‘And that’s just why I’m so desirous to inspect a genuine chinampa.” * Pues, caballero,” responded the youth, who, as most Indians of the valley, could speak Span- ish, even its idioms; ‘‘to do that you must go a good way. There are noné nearer than Xochi- milco, and they’re not much. The finest. chin-- ampas, believe me, are our own; and they’re in the Laguna de Chalco, a little way beyond. Ay Dios, Lorita! that reminds me we must_ be moving, or night will be down before we can get through the acaloté torta. Buenos tardes senor.
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4 Beadle’s Dime Library. as Saying which he pulled hastily off—his sister sear | pcm herself on the stern thwart—and soon they were beyond speaking distance. I felt some little disappointed by this abrupt departure. I was half-expecting an invitation te visit the water village, of which Don Tito was alcalde. But my disappointment was less hard to bear, as, following the boat with rd eyes, I saw the girl looking back over her shoul- der, once, twice, and a third time, when the leafy branches of a Peruvian pepper-tree drooping over the canal, provokingly screened. her from my sight. “At length—at last—I have reached her heart!” This to eo ben as I sat in my saddle, thrilled with triumphant happiness. CHAPTER IV. SERVING A SCOUNDREL RIGHT. My exultation was short lived; succeeded by a feeling very different. What was I doing? Making endeavor—my very best—to steal the affections of an innocent maiden, unsuspicious of any evil intent. And what my purpose? Was it honorable? Up to that moment I had never thought of asking myself these questions. mari, Bh success, they had hitherto no pertinence, But now, with kindled hope, they came before me, like drops of gall Lyre’ into a cup of sweet- ness, Had the girl been a flirt, or coquette, I might have sought justification in that, and pos- sibly found it. But she seemed the very oppo- site; and was, from all I could hear—innocence typified, simplicity itself, True, there were the innuendoes of the would-be go-between, oft re- called, but as often rejected with incredulity. To such as he, the Maw ip’s of Lucretia he would seem but prudery and pretense. If my reflections caused me pain, they also did something to chasten me; and as I turned my horse’s head toward quarters, I had half up my mind nevermore to look for the flower skiff that carried the Queen of the Lakes; and bed. y mance tramp out the interest with which she inspired me, A woman’s voice raised in cries of terror, or distress! The voices of men, too—one of them exclaiming in anger! I heard all this, just as I reached the kg end of the Paseo; the cries coming from the opposite, beyond where I had last seen the departing skiff. Since then, scarce sixty seconds had elapsed, and in less than as many more, I had wheeled to the right- about, galloped down the drive to its extremest end, where again the boat came under my eyes. But now it was not alone. Another was by its side, or rather a little behind; in which last there were three men. Both boats were movin bei tats the water, fast as their rowers coul pape them. At a glanceI saw that they in he skiff were pom chased; with the same coup d’ceil taking in the class and character of the pursuers—their costumes enabling me to do so. They were dressed in the ordi rb of rancheros, a little motley and eccentric, but its chief eccentricity was in a broad list of scar- let cloth, half-covering the crowns of their som- breros. This was distinctive, telling them to be- long to the ‘‘ Red Hats,”—a band of robbers at the time acting with our army in the capacity of scouts. The whole thing was clear; at least so thought Tat the moment, The three, out for a row on the canal, had come across the flower skiff, and having drank too much aguardiente were going in for a lark with the Indian girl. It was evident that the young Indian, on see- ing them so intent, had turned ‘his skiff on the canal, and was pulling back for the Paseo to es- cape them. As I caught sight of the two boats they were approaching the central point of a wide sheet of water—a sort of pond, through which the canal here passes—the girl still con- tinuing to call out in alarm; the boy shouting, too, but more in angry remonstrance. Neither her cries of terror, nor his words of indigna- tion had any effect on the trio of Red Hats, who, the instant after, shot their boat up along- side the skiff, and grappled on. Then, one of them standing up, leant forward to lay hold of the girl. He would have succeeded had she sat still. But she did not; instead, suddenly rising to her feet, she sprang over into the water! The boy, letting go his oars, leaped after her; both in a panic, as I sup * : For two or three seconds they were under; du- ring which, short as the time was, I felt anxiety indescribable—believing them in danger of be- aay, aged: 0, not they! Iwas soon relieved by seeing them once more rise to the surface, and, side by side, like a pair of otters, come swimming on toward the bank. If necessary, they could have dived to it! But they were not yet rid of the Red Hats. He who had attempted to lay hands on the girl, having leaped into the lighter skiff, and taken up the abandoned oars, was rowing after, still seeming determined to effect his pu @ He succeeded, so fa¥ an Overdekh er; but not till she had climbed out on the bank, where she stood panting and dripping; he, with a brutal oath upon his lips, having bounded upon it be- side her, Again eluding him, she made an effort to con- tinue her flight afoot, but the wet skirts cling- ing around her limbs impeded her, and at the third or fourth step she tottered, and fell to the earth. She had no need to flee further. As she rose to her feet again she saw that her safety was secured. For by this I had got upon the ound, and taking a firm gripe on the collar of Hat’s coat, had the ruffian at my mercy. At first Ithought of detaining him, till I could call up some of the guard, and send him to our guard-house prison. But still believing it only an affair of drunken deviltry, it occurred to me that I might as well bestow the chastisement at once, and in a way more appropriate to the of- fense—I would duck him! The spirit of frolic had got into me, too, and I could not resist it. I was still in the saddle, my horse close to the canal’s edge, and the Red Hat against the right ai 8 firmly retained. os iy good fellow,” I said, laughingly, ‘‘ you’ve been drinking too much spirits, clear; you’ll be the better of a little water to mix them.” At which I lifted him from his legs, and with an outward jerk shot him over into the canal. It was all done in a minute’s time, and in anoth- er I saw him swelter out on the opposite side. There, after shaking himself, and giving me a glance of direst malignity, he joined his two coadjutors, who had already landed from the Par three disappearing behind some bushes near by. Not tin then was I aware of the mistake made in letting him off so easily. In the hurry and excitement I had never thought of sae ia the fellow’s face; but when I now saw that face across the canal, with the demon-like scowl up- on it, a fancy flashed into my brain that I had seen it before. Not fancy, either, but a clear and distinct recollection. For he was the same man who so rudely responded to my inquiry about the chinampera; differently and less ele- tly attired it is true, but certainly the same. now regretted having let him go with such cheap castigation; for recalling what the pela- do had nes about him in connection with the girl, and what I had myself seen, it now oc- curred to me that he intended something more serious than the snatching of a kiss. It was too late, however, to repair my mistake. But I knew where the Red Hats were quartered, and could look him up there, which I registered a resolve to do. While still standing with eyes fixed on the re- treating ruffians, I felt my hand taken hold of, by fingers soft as if gloved with silk; then something Pn softer and warmer pressing against it. The lips of the girl; she was kissing it! “ Gracias, salvador mio!” she exclaimed. “ Mil, mil gracias! I can never enough thank you. No, never!” ‘‘Don’t speak of thanks,” I said, in response to them both; for by this the brother was also volubly pouring forth his gratitude. ‘I’m only sorry I let the scoundrel escape. If [had known who it was—” ‘*Oh, sefior!” rejoined the young Indian, in- terrupting, ‘‘he’s a bad, bad man—wn ladron, as all those are with the red bands on their som- breros. But I needn’t tell youthat. We didn’t know he was one of them, because we’ve seen him dressed quite differently. And it isn’t the first time he has insulted my sister. He’s done it on several occasions, at the market and in the streets. Oh,sefior! I’m so glad you tossed him into the canal. He deserved that, and a good deal more.” ** More he shall get, in due time; onit. But, how came it about? ser Ore canal yonder?” ‘“We did, sefior. The ou may rely ou met them came out from the side in their big boat, and then made straight toward us, I knew his face soon as I saw it, though he is in other clothes; and suspectin they were after no good, I turned the skiff an rowed back, Ah, caballero! how fortunate for us you were here. Santissima! we sha’n’t come any more to the city until—until—” ‘¢ Oh, don’t let that hinder you; you need have no fear of him, hereafter. I shall take care to have him put im a place where he won’t trouble you again. And now, sefiorita,” I said, ad- dressing myself to the girl, who, with the wet enagua close clinging to her Shaly-caveneee figure, recalled the statue of the Dripping Ne- reid, ‘‘ you’re in danger of catching cold. If you'll come to my quarters, possibly I can find something dry to wrap around you.” | I was answered by a stare of astonishment from both, the brother laughing as he rejoined: ‘‘ She has no need of that, sefior. Lorita don’t care for a wetting, any more than myself. We live on the lakes, as you know, and are in the water almost as often as out of it. Catch a cold, indeed! No, no; not from a dip like that.” Well, let me call one of my men, and send him round for your boat?” The skiff had drifted down the canal, and was now lying against the opposite bank, at some distance off. Again the young Indian gave out a laugh, the sister smiling in concert. . “What, caballero!” he exclaimed, in a tone of surprise. ‘‘Send a man all the way round for the boat! No need of that. as you shall see. Come, Lorita! Nos vamos |” Saying which, he plunged back inte the canal, she after him; but not till having once more taken hold of my hand and kissed it. Then, with another expression of gratitude, and an Adios! spoken in tone which seemed to say, ‘ I should be sorry to think it the last,” she took the leap without fear! With wondering eyes I watched them as they swam on toward the cliff. Very amphibia they appeared—she with her long black tresses, now escaped from their coil, trailing on the surface behind—an image of Undine, or some siren of the sea! Soon both were in the boat, which, once more moving to the oar-stroke, shot across the sheet of open water. As it again glided out of sight entering the narrower canal, and the girl looke back as before—but now with gaze fixed and continuous—all my fine resolutions seemed to melt as snow under the summer’s sun; and I rode back to quarters resigned to continuing the a but with no intention of trifling with her. CHAPTER V. THE ROBBERS PARADE. As already said, the ‘‘ Red Hats” were a band of brigands, who had been taken into our ser- vice to act as scouts, and sometimes employed on escort duty, on the principle of setting the thief to catch the thief. It was a fancy of our commander-in-chief, General Scott, who had a penchant for such buffoonery. Nothing good came of it, but much evil, in addition to its be- ing a disgrace to us on the score of humanity, quite as much as the employment of blood- hounds—or red-skinned savages. For these Red Hats were robbers pur sang—“ salteadores a cavallo,” or highwaymen. There was a com- plete partida of them, well mounted, armed with lance, saber, carbine, and pistols, and va- riously appareled—the only uniformity in this respect being the strip of scarlet cloth on their hats. This distinctive badge was not of their own adoption, nor for ornament, but worn by orders, and for their safety, lest our soldiers, mistaking them for the enemy’s guerilleros, whom they closely resembled, might shoot them down at sight. Unmitigated ruffians they were, every one of them; abandoned by God and their country—which last they had themselves aban- doned, betraying it in a double sense. Their chief, a certain Dominguez, usually called “Colonel” (for, in truth, he had been such in the Mexican army), was a remarkable man. Of medium size, rather stout in build, but active withal; full-featured and swarthy, the beau ideal of Mazzaroni, or the “devil’s brother.” As usual, he had a tale of wrong to account for his having taken to the road; and I can testify to his having some redeeming qualities—in- domitable courage certainly. As Thad a slight rok eee aae with the ban- dit leader, my duty having more than once brought me in contact with 2 Pig I placed reli- ance upon this to facilitate my purpose—which was to search among his followers for the one who bad offended, have him arrested, tried, and punished for the outrage. It was still not too late that day to set about it, and the sooner the better. might be in time to catch the culprit before he could change his dress; and with the wet suit on, as it were, in flagrante delictu. So, taking one of my ser- geants along, I rode over to where the Red Hats were quartered, in one of the suburbs on the north side of the city. Dominguez received me with due courtesy, and as much grace as Duval might have shown to a duchess while stripping her of her ear-rings. In answer to my requisition, he said: “Con mucho gusto, Capitan. ’T will give me the greatest —" to parade my beauties be- fore you; though I fear you won’t find him you're looking for among them.” ‘““Why do = think that?” ‘* Because the description you've given of him don’t seem to correspond with any one in my partida.” “But he was dressed exactly as they, with the red band around his hat; asalso the two who were with him.” “That’s likely enough, but counts for nothing. As you are aware, Capitan, under the cgis of oar army, my Red Hats ps now enjoy some ittle privileges, not extended to others of the rofession. For which reason there are counter- eits of them abroad, who by gross misbehavior do much to give my honest fellows a bad At this little jew d’esprit the bandit gave a loud guffaw, nor could [ help laughing myself. ‘*However,” he continued, ‘‘we shall see whether he of whom you complain be a real Red Hat, or only a spurious imitation. Hola! there, Raymundo! Sound the asamblea!” The on geo brayed out the ‘‘ Assembly,” and, quick as I could have brought my own men to muster, the salteadores were on the ground of their parade; where, at a word of command from their chief, they formed in line of single file. There were about sixty of them; and, per- haps, three-score sets of features more forbid-
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——A —— =e Captain of the Rifles. ding man never saw ranged side by side. They resented every phase and type of the ruffian; rom the cowed, craven thief, with eyes cast down or averted, to the bold, unblushing robber - who looked you straight in the face. “Now, caballero,” said their chief, after I had finished my inspection of them, ‘‘can you make out your man?” “No,” I answered; ‘‘ he’s not among them. Is this the whole of your band, colonel?” “Every sinner of them, with the exception of the sick, and some wounded—in your service, Sefor Capitan. Perhaps you'd like to take a turn through our hospital; though I can assure ou the individual you describe isn’t among my invalids either.” “Tt’s not necessary,” I rejoined. ‘‘I will take your word for it, colonel.” By this I had become certain—less through the bandit’s assurance than from some other circum- stances—that neither he, whom I had soused in the canal, nor his two confederates belonged to the fraternity of Red Hats; and I left their cuartel with but a poor prospect of ever again setting eyes on the scoundrel I was in quest of, CHAPTER VI. THE FORFEIT SUPPER AND ITS REVELATION. Ir I was not likely ever more to meet the mas- uerader in the Red Hat, still less chance was there of my encountering the footpad who had carried off Captain Moreno’s watch. Of seeing him again I had long since given up hopes—in- deed, never had any. Foreven if brought face to face with him in the broad daylight, it was doubtful whether I could have identified him. In the Mexican capital, at that particular time, there were no detectives to ferret out and recover stolen ison For the regular na- tive police had been for certain reasons dis- venga our soldiers doing their duty; and to ave set these in search for a thief would have been like ee a pampered house-dog on the trail of a fox. I had never thought of doing so; instead, had admonished the Meaxien officer of my design to satisfy his other condition—in fact sent him the invitation to supper. As it so chanced the appointment was for that same night, and after leaving the barrack of the Red Hats, I rode di- rect to the place where we were to sup, the Fonda de Espiritu Santo. As agreed upon, there were to be six; and on reaching the hotel I found the other five await- ing me—their involuntary host. Notunwilling, however; for by this I had become better ac- quainted with Captain Moreno, and would have been only too pleased at extending such hos- pitality to him, without thought of its being a penalty paid for having made a mistake. And, after all, he as much as myself was host on the "Tt was raghar kay oda d t was rather an -composed supper party, three American olliers—-for the wor had in- vited were such—and three Mexican; Moreno’s friends being also militarios, all of them our prisoners on parole! In all probability we had met on the battle-field but a few weeks before, and there did the best we could to kill one an- other. Now we were face to face at a supper- table, again doing our best, not to take one an- other’s lives, but to make them mutually agree- able. While sitting down, we had thought of the change of circumstances, so ludicrous we all laughed at it. a And such a supper as that was! For I may here observe, that the Spanish cocina beats the boasted Cuisine Francaise ‘into fits?’ while the former is yet inferior te the Cocina Mewi- cana, by reason of many dishes of origin this last had added to its list, unknown to the cookery books of the Peninsula. For tongue- tickling, palate-gratifying combinations of spice, arlic and capsicum, the chef of a first-class exican restaurant stands unrivaled. To such a repast we sat down; and for a time the conversation was on general topics, most of a serious nature. But when the wine began to make us merry, it changed to lighter themes; at length, as a matter of course, coming to women. Not much about the moral attributes of the fair sex, however; only their personal qualities and charms, those of different countries being com- ared. We, the strangers, were of course loud in praise of the sefioritas of the country; while our Mexican friends, not to be outdone in cour- tesy, one and all declared yi ae! no ladies so bewitchingly beautiful as ‘ Americanas,” and added Moreno, who knew I was not an American, “ Las [rlandeses.” In this connection, it was but natural that our thoughts should extend, with our speech also, to the real indigenous article of feminine beauty, as exemplified in the Indian. : ‘* Feas todas!” qn ugly) emphatically pro- nounced one of the Mexican officers, Colonel Es- pinosa, “I’ve never seen a pure-blooded Indian girl yet, who could be honestly pronounced beau- tiful.” “Then you’ve never been through the San Domingo flower-market,” interposed Moreno. “Yes, have I; scores of times. What is there to see in it?” “Oh! if you’ve seen nothing already, *twould be of little use pointing her out to you.” “Pah! I suppose you mean La chinampera bella—otherwise the ‘Queen of the Lakes?” ‘You are right, Espinosa; so far as to whom I allude; but wrong in the imputation you cast upon her by your word of derision—altogether wrong. The Queen of the Lakes is a girl of ex- cellent reputation, which I have never heard called in question.” ** Ah! you seem to be well acquainted with her,” rejoined the other, with a laugh, and in a tone of innuendo. ‘‘Tam,” said Moreno; ‘‘ or, at all events, with her character. It so chances that my uncle owns the land lying along the lake shore where her father has his chinampa. Indeed, they are inasort of way, his tenazts. So, as you see, gentlemen, I speak with some knowledge of the girl, and can assure you she’s as pure as the snow on i 9 yen at : During the early part of this dialogue, into which the two had drifted, I felt not only pained, but indignant, with a desire to clutch the throat of the questioner. I succeeded in restraining my temper, however; and listening on, became again. 7 What you say, Captain Moreno,” remarked the third of the Mexican officers, a quiet, re- served sort of man, ‘‘is borne out by the girl’s demeanor. I’ve purchased bouquets from_her myself—who hasn’t? And for one who sells flow- ers in a public market, receiving such flattery, too, her modesty is indeed remarkable. On a ~ with her beauty; and that, I think, Colonel spinosa himself will scarce call in ques- tion.’ “Quite a red-skinned Venus! well!” exclaimed the other. ‘Venus, or not,” retorted Miranda, ‘‘ your description is not accurate, when you call her red-skinned. She’s a pure-blooded Indian, I be- lieve, or at least so it’s said. But I could name some of our ladies called blancos, ay, some who boast of their sangre azul, with complexions not a shade lighter than hers. The only red pare about her is the coral of her lips and the carmine on her cheeks.” “ Bravo! bravissimo !” cried the colonel, clap- ping his hands, as though app auding an act- or on the stage. ‘By my word, Captain More- no, you’re eloquent on the charms of this abo- riginal damsel. Were I to report your fine ree in a certain quarter—say to one of those same dark-skinned sefioritas of the sangre azul—you might be called to account for them, in a way you wouldn’t like, Ha! ha! ha!” The other officer joined in the laugh. It was evident Moreno had an amanté, about whom they both knew something. **Oh! report and welcome, amigo mio!” re- turned the captain, speaking in calm confidence. ‘*Tn love affairs, thank the Lord or my luck, I have a clear conscience, and nothing to fear. As for this Indian girl, I admit I’ve but slight acquaintance with her; for all, I believe her to be what I’ve been told—incorruptible, and worthy of her title of Queen.” “In that we differ diametrically,” rejoined the colonel. ‘For Ihave bought of her many a thing for my button-hole, and been told noth- ing. But something I’ve seen, which contra- dicts all your exalted ideas of her.” “What?” asked every one in a breath, myself among the number; 1 more eager than any for the answer, though J trembled to hear it. ‘*What have you seen, Colonel Espinosa?” “Why, only the Queen of the Lakes—this modest, model girl of our friend Moreno’s show- ing—in close, and apparently familiar, converse with one of the most accomplished sports in the city of Mexico.” “Who?” asked Moreno, in a tone proving him still incredulous of the aspersion cast upon the Indian girl. “You may not know him,” answered the colo- nel; ‘and it isn’t likely you do, any of you. He’s not often seen upon thestreets by daylight, but may be by night, in a certain casa, up one of those shady streets behind the cathedral. There I’ve met him myself, unfortunately too often; since he’s as clever at tossing dice as in deluding the muchachitas.” “ Let us hear his name, anyhow!” “ve heard him addr by more than one. He has several, no doubt, to suit time and place. That he goes by in the gambling-house is sim- ply Sefior Hilario, with the Don to it, of course. or he affects the fine gentleman, dresses sty lish- ly, so elegantly indeed, that among his associ- ates he is known as ‘E] Guapo.’ Hisusual wear is the costume a la ranchero, with a toquilla of pearls round his hat, and a cloak of finest broad- cloth upon his shoulders—a purple manga.” I started as if an adder were under my chair, involuntarily repeating the words, ‘Purple manga!” e ‘Kh! You know the gentleman, sefior?” said the colonel, turning tome, ‘ Well; Ihope your experience of him has been pleasanter than mine, and you’ve not been the victim of either his packed cards or loaded dice.” **No, Colonel Espinosa,” I answered, with an effort to conceal my emotion. ‘I have no ac- quaintance with the individual you speak of. Only your having mentioned a purple man recalled my meeting with a man under some- what strange circumstances,” Lucretia as =| 5 I stopped here, not caring to be further com- municative. ‘‘Well,” pursued the colonel, “Sif you ever meet him, you’ll be face to face with one of the cleverest rogues in the city of Mexico; where I admit, Mexican myself, there are no lack of them. But I haven’t yet said all I have to say about him. In addition to his other accomplish- ments, he has the reputation of now and then doing a stroke of business on the roads—in short, of being a salteador, the scene of his operations, as I have heard, lying among the mountain passes by the old pyramid of San Juan de Teo- tihuacan. Now, gentlemen! judge for your- selves, whether I’ve spoken too freely of La chinampera bella—Captain Moreno’s model of innocence—after seeing her in the company of such a character.” ‘‘You have seen it? Where? When?” It was Moreno himself who the questions. “Twice at her flower-stand in the San Do- mingo market; once in a street adjacent; and once again on the canal by the Paseo las Vigas, where she was in her boat going home. True, on the last the brother was with her; though she didn’t seem to make much of his presence, Being his senior, she controls him. mpeg se appeared to be quite on good terms with uapo. “Ay dios!” muttered Moreno, with some- thing of a sigh, vane pained by these reve- lations. ‘I wouldn’t have believed it. My uncle’s people, who know a good deal about the ee have a high opinion of her character. till, the may be mistaken in that regard; nor would it be so stran Beauty, such as hers, is sure of — - iled Or oe Come, amigos mios we p the di able subject, and drink to our host of the night? night? I toast him!” ‘Our host of the night!” cried all, filling their glasses, and eee em up. ‘ Perhaps,” added the proposer, “ you e me to back my toast with a speech. ‘ Well then, twill be a short one. Only to say, I sho be content to lose a Losada watch, once every year, if *twould bring about such a friendship as the last I lost has done, with a night of pleasure like this. Now, Caballeros! al Capitan Maynard!” CHAPTER VIL MASQUERADING IN THE LITTLE OWL INN. NOTWITHSTANDING the warmth with which my core had toasted me, and the wine I had drank, I felt ill at ease during the rest of the evening. The revelations thus accidentally brought out were food for bitter reflection, and I was glad when the hour arrived for the sup per-party to break up. Bidding “‘ buenas noches” all round, we sal- lied forth into the street. Outside the Fonda I parted with my two brother officers, whose quarters were in a different part of the city. I was about starting for my own afoot, as m horse had been sent back with the sergean when I observed that Espinosa had walked off the same way, and like myself, alone. A thought struck me, and hastening my steps 1 soon overtook him, saying: ‘*Sefior Coronel! Pardon me for ing if you’re on the way to your sleeping quarters?’ Despite his cynicism on the subject of woman, he was by no means of a morose nature, rather the reverse; and, as I knew, would not resent the liberty thus taken. “Or,” I continued, without waiting his reply, “might it be that you think of once more try- ing your luck at the casa you spoke of?” e question took hima little aback—not strange it should—but being an old soldier, ac- customed to surprises, he soon recovered him- self, and laughingly answered: “Well, caballero, in your second surmise you’ve made a straight shot. Iam going to the place you speak of. But why do xn ask? Is it veaiie wish to accompany me?” “ that—if you’ve no objection.” “On the con , twill give me the greatest pleasure to introduce you to La Lechuzita, one of the most infernal dens in our Mexican metro- polis. Saying which I save you from bo over with oe But, by the way,” he add- ed, sudde y stopping and at eyes on me, “‘ you’re in uniform! Santos Dios! T didn’t think of that.” “Does it make any difference?” ‘““Caramba! yes; all the difference in the world. Although the place in question, as I’ve already said, is rather yin and you’d there see costumes of et ‘inds—some fantastic enough—that blue f: of # hnnd with the yel- low facings and eagle buttons, would draw a'| crowd of characters around you, not over-dis- — to politeness. For you must know, Sefior apitan, that the frequenters of the Little Owl are peal’ bse and no Americanos are admitted— own to be such.” — that case I cannot go with you, I sup- He reflected a second or two, then said: “Have Swe any objection to a little bit of ms fot i the t. I submit If to ot in the least. I submit m our guidance, and will do as you direct.” a “Then I think I can manage it without much
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6 difficulty. We travel past the place where your humble servant finds lodgment; and there, if I mistake not, I can make you fit toappear before the company we’re to mix with.” By this we had reached the end of a little street, into which he turned, I of course along j ith im. After passing seyeral houses we ' came toa stop at the door of one, which he opened with a latch-key. It being now after midnight everybody was abed, and the windows all in kness. Striking a match and lighting a small lamp, he conducted me up a single flight of stairs, then into a room of size sufficiently large, but with a very low ceiling, which I knew to e. the entresuelo—for in the houses of Mexi- can cities, as those of Paris, the second story is ggg gre to apartments of an inferior e ‘* As you see, caballero,” he said, with a laugh, observing that I scrutinized the room, which was somewhat scantily furnished, ‘“‘ we Mexican officers don’t dwell in palaces. And, just..now, thanks to your kindness in having conquered us, we’re rather worse lodged than usual, seeing that for some months past our pay has been stopped. So I can’t offer you much in the way of either eatables or drinkables; but, ssibly, a copita of Catalonian brandy would ee your liking? It will. serve to fortify you for the little affair we have in hand. give you. that, of best brand.” “Shanks, colonel! just what I should like.” While he was getting out the bottle and glasses, I completed my survey of the apart- ment, clearly his dining, drawing, and bed- room, all in one.. A catré, or camp-bed, stood in one corner; in another lay a military saddle with a lance leaning over it, for the colonel had commanded a regiment of ‘‘ Lanzeros.” Against the wall were suspended a saber, pistols, belts, and other accouterments, while the only table in the. room, showed a few articles of crockery- ware, with the débris of what.must have been a rather frugal repast. _Good-humoredly al- luding to this, he poured out a glass of the Catalan, eerie, me to drink it while he went rummaging in a large leathern portmanteau he hag dragued. from under the bedstead. Out of this he drew a ranchero rig—velveteen. jacket, calzoneras, calzoncillos, waist-scarf, and all. These, with a broad-brimmed sombrero, which hung.ona nail behind the door, completed the dress I was to wear in the. gaming-house. As I had worn, the like before, I needed no instruc- tions about putting them on, and ina trice I stood arrayed in the picturesque national cos- tume of Mexico. “ Por Dios, Sefior!” he exclaimed, after in- specting me. ‘You look as much Mexican as myself! Lucky your skin and hair are darker than’s common among your ical binge most I’ve seen being giieros wilonAes,) nd as you speak our tongue like a native, I defy any one to detect the counterfeit. You Americans don’t exactly gesticulate as we; therefore, let me drape your arms with this.’ Saying which, he took a serapé from off the camp-bed, where it had been doing duty as a see and drawing it upon my head, letit drop can over my shoulders, ** Now for Lechuzita!”’ \A short walk soon brought us to the Calle de spo, which runs along the rear of the cathe- dral, and continuing up this we turned into a dark narrow street, in which was the casa de ong. 1e Little Owl pretended to be a posada, or inn; but there was no sign or other insignia to uphold the pretense. there had been, we could not have seen them, as there was no light from windows—there being no windows—while the great entrance door was closed as that of a jail, which it resembled, Dark as it was, my connate easily found his way between the e- posts, and gave a knock, Not double or loud, but a single tap of the gentlest, to be pear only by ears which might be in listening. Suc there were, for almost pateny I could distinguish the shuffling of feet inside the sa- “ eH after a voice asking guardedly : Pa es?” (Who is it?) _.* Amigo de la patria,” (A friend of the coun- ) was the response of my companion, 1eré was a short interval of silence, the inside still seeming to hesitate about. open- fig, te door, when the colonel, becoming .im- pa nt, called out in a more commanding 83 , . ‘Presto, muchacho! Abréla puerta! Soy et Coronel Espinosa.” _ (Quick, my lad! Open the door! I’m Colonel Espinosa.) * Bueno !” ted the voice; and with that pig ee in oe, center of “7 huge door turned on its hinges, and we stepped inside. “Pardon me, Sefior Canal for having d layed you,” said the janitor as we passed him; “but as. you, know, one needs be cautious in these strange times.” “ Oaramba! that’s quite true,” rejoined the officer, with a laugh, adding, ‘and at all times, hombre, when itting any one under the wings of the Little Owl.’ comprehending the colonel’s jest, echoed his laugh, and we went on inward. As yet neither lamp nor candle threw ray of light Barter rt Beadle’s Dime Library. around us; but my companion seemed to know every paving-stone in both passage and court, and I followed the sound of hisfootsteps. Cross- ing acorner of the patio, we stepped up toa rickety wooden corridor which ran round three sides of it; and following this for a few ree stood before a door, through the keyhole of which we at length saw light, at the same time hearing voices inside. Before entering, my conductor, laying his lips close to my ear, said in a whisper: ‘*Now, caballero, a last word. I trust to your skill in preserving your incognito, Should any one obatonas you as being an Americano, you must stoutly deny it. Swear you’re not the man he mistakes you for; but one Don Elezario Tres Villas, a haciendado from the State of Guadalaxara. “Luckily I have a card of the said Don Elezario, which will assist you in the personation, Here, take it.” Riper the bit of cardboard into my hand, he pushed in the door and entered. I had no difficulty in following him now, the opened door letting out a flood of light which filled the court toits furthest corner. There had been loud talking before we step- ped inside, with some disjointed phrases at in- tervals, pronounced in louder tone, as ‘* Caballo en la puerta.” * Soto mozo,” which might be un- intelligible toa stranger, though I quite under- stood them, recognizing the call words in the game of monté, The buzz of conversation ceased as the occu- pants of the room turned their eyes upon us, the new-comers. Only for a second; then it was re- sumed, half drowning the monotonous cries of the game, which -had continued without inter- ruption. here was no mistaking the character. of the place. At a glance I recognized the regular ‘*hell”: and not much more was needed to con- vince me that there was good reason for the precautions my companion had taken, and the cautions he had given me, _ There were fifty or more men in the room, which was a large sala, lit up, with numerous lamps, its brilliance in striking contrast with the darkness outside. They were dressed in many different. kinds of costumes, as a mixed assemblage of Mexicans must needs be. I saw around me uniforms of every arm, with insignia denoting all ranks, from the general down to the alferez or sub- lieutenant. But most were in civilian dress; some, as myself, wearing the garb ranchero, others in broadcloth jackets and trowsers of the ordinary cut, with not a few carrying on their shoulders the coarse frezada, their scowling brows shadowed by sombreros of felt, glaze, or straw. Excepting the officers, and not all of them, I never looked upon so many sinister fa- ces—saye once, when making my inspection of the Red Hats—and between those and, these there was not much to choose. Nearly every one present might be taken for a bandit, nor would any great mistake have been made in so believing hizn, since a goodly proportion of them were professional robbers, highwaymen, and footpads, as I afterward learnt. This explain- ed their ardent patriotism, or its pretense, as it gave them protection against the laws they had offended—for the time absolving them from the ban of outlawry. And who could blame the Mexican authorities for permitting: this sort of thing? Certainly not. we, the Americans, who at that moment had a band of these same saltea- dores in our service, receiving pay, even petted by our commander-in-chief! Up to this time I had not told the colonel of lancers why I wished to accompany him to La Lechuzita. .Nor did I now make him any the wiser, he not seeming to care. For, soon as en- tering the room, and shaking hands with some half-score individuals, his old army camarados, who stepped out to greet him, he took a seat at the monié table, and commenced laying his stakes, AsI was in no humor for gambling, and came not for such purpose, I immediately set about. that which had enticed me into the Little Owl—this being to find out, whether he whom I had ducked in. the canal were the indi- vidual spoken of by Espinosa as Don Hilario, otherwise ‘‘ El Guapo.” Sauntering round the saloon, smoking a cig- arrito with as much nonchalance as though I were the Oldest habitué of the hell, I scanned every face, Several of them I had seen before, in the cafés and on the streets; luckily none with which I was very familiar, or whose own- er could claim acquaintance with me. And none that in any way resembled that I had such reason to remember. Having at length lost hope of seeing him, I thought of asking the colonel to forsake his lay, and give me congéas far as the street tie’ when that of the sala was pushed open, to discover aman entering the room—my man to a certainty! Butnow with no scarlet band around his sombrero, nor other insignia to show he was one of the Red Hats. Instead, he was apparel- ed as when first I saw him on the Paseo de las Vigas. was Don Hilario, for, as he stepped across the threshold there was another lull in the con- versation, and I heard a man near me exclaim- ing: © Mira! El Guapo P” Thad no need to ask Espinosa if this | Making direct for the monté table, he passed close to where I stood, luckily without recogniz- ing me. Asa matter of course I did not desire his doing so, but the very reverse. At that mo- ment identification on his side would have been dangerous to me, and Don Elezario’s card of but little service. El Guapo knew my face too well to mistake me for the baciendndc of Guadalax- ara. And now, having accomplished all that I had come for, I wanted to be away, and would have left La Lechuzita on the instant, but for the ne- cessity of waiting on him who had conducted me thither. Something besides courtesy com- pelled.me to this. Fortunately, for me atleast, on this night as before, the colonel’s luck ran against him, and soon all his checks, with the coin he had ex- changed for them, were ruthlessly raked in b the claws of the croupier. I was rather giat than otherwise, to see a couple of gold pieces he made free to borrow from me go the same way. Then, accepting my excuses that I hadn't an- other pene on my Pee, he reluctantly rose from the gaming-table, and soon we were once more Outside the Little Owl. As we walked back to his lodging, he asked me, for the first time, why I had been so desir- ous to visit the gambling-house, where I had not staked so much as a peseta! To which inter- rogatory I made evasive answer, saying: “ Curiosity, Sefior Coronel—that and the love of adventure.” “Oaspita!” he exclaimed. ‘‘ A rash proceed- ing on your part, had you but known it. Let me tell you now, sefior, if in the place we’ve just left you had been recognized as an officer of the American army, at least a dozen machetés would have been run through your ribs, despite all the protection I could have given you. Santissima ! there were wolves there, who’d have been only too delighted to tear you limb from limb. Give thanks to God you’ve got clear of them. Sin- cerely may you say, as I on your behalf, Gracias a Dios!” My visit to La Lechuzita turned out less profitable than I had expected. I had gone not alone to discover whether Don Hilario was the double of my Red Hat, but if so, to mark him ha for future and closer inspection—which I did. All to no purpose, for, although T set a watch upon the Little Owls, and for several nights after kept a detail of guard ready to gripe my / man, he came not there again, CHAPTER VIII. & STRANGE LETTER AND AN ARREST. DURING our oceupation of the Mexican ctwp- ital, the policing of the place, as already said, was done by the soldiers of ourarmy. Certain regiments were employed upon this delicate duty chief among them the “ Rifles”—the men of this arm being of a superior class, more intel- ligent, better educated, and, as a consequence, more trustworthy. Both the mounted and foot companies were indifferently detailed for it; the former, on such occasions, acting asinfantry. Of course we, their officers, took our regular twenty-four hours’ tour guard duty—not regi- mental guard, but ranging over the whole city. About a week had elapsed since our supper at the Espiritu Santogand I was on duty as “ officer of the guard.” The night had come on, and in my perambulations—not restricted to place—I was spending an hour or two in that I deemed pleasantest—the ‘‘ Teatro Nacional ”—a theater at the time considered one of the finest in the world, taking rank with the La Scala of Milan, or Tacon of Havana. Certainly, as I have seen it—filled with the fashion of the Mexican cap- ital, its palcos and dress circle occupied by the dark-eyed, dark-haired seforitas, resplendent in silk .and sparkling with diamonds—I doubt whether any theater or opera-house elsewhere could present a much prettier array. Just then a company of Spanish comedians had possession of it—most of the actors in Mexican theaters being from Spain. As there was a distinguish- ed “star” of the feminine specialty, named Caiete, to appear on that night, the boxes were filled by the ‘familias principales,” and the flirt- ing of fans, with flirting of another kind, was something for a stranger to see, The play was ‘“‘Don Juan Tenorio,” the original of all the Don Juans, Giovannis, and Cresar de Bazans; which, as enacted in Spanish theaters, occupies all of two nights; so that if. the first be a “ hit” the manager may be sure of a ““ bumper ” on the second. This night chanced to be the second; and be- tween two of the many acts of the continued play, I stepped out to the front of the theater, for the purpose of giving some instruction to the sentries I had placedthere. Just as 1] had finished, and was about to go inside again, a voice struck on my ear, saying: “S’nor Capitan! may I have a word with your excellency?” As there was no one else near, I knew the speech must be meant for myself: and turning, L beheld the speaker—a_rayged fellow, whom, after a look, I recognized, Yor it was the pelado who had so politely answerea my interrogatories |
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.bizarrerie—indeed boldness. on the Paseo Las Vigas, and whose proffer of further service I so indignantly rejected. Iwas about to repel him as before, when a thought restrained me—about the Indian girl. Since the day she had imprinted on my hand that kiss of gratitude, so pleasant to remember, I had not seen her. Nor yet her brother. Their boat came no more to market; and, recalling what the youth said, I had begun to despair of its ever coming more. And here was one who professed acquaintance with them. He might tell me something I was longing to know. In- stead, therefore, of acting in obedience to my first instinct, and driving ‘him off, I said in re- sponse: “Certainly, my good fellow. What do you wish to say?” **Not much, senior; but first let me thank you for the concession. At our last interview, if your excellency can remember it, you cut my speech rather short. I had reason to feel offend- ed, and wouldn’t likely be approaching you again, if ’twere only on my Own account— which it isn’t.” **On whose, then?” I asked, my heart beating quick as I put the question. “That of one who holds your excellency in high esteem. Ah! more, worships—adores you.” t was not in man to do otherwise than I did —reiterate my interrogatory in a changed form, with most anxious alacrity: “Who?” Nor was it in mortal man to feel otherwise than I—happy to the heart’s core, on hearing the answer: “La Reina de los Lagos.” On his giving it, I forgot all the disgust with which he had originally inspired me, and was but too glad to listen for what he had further to say—even impatiently demanding it. His air and bearing betokened his having more to com- municate. “Well, your excellency,” he continued, evi- dently noting mg eagerness, ‘‘as I’ve told you, I haven’t much to say. In this matter, my duty is more in the way of doing. I’ve been employ- ed as post-carrier. Solet the muchachita speak for herself. Perhaps you may listen to her, with greater patience than ‘igep seem desirous of according to me.” At which he drew something white from under his frezada, adding, as he handed it to me, ‘* Una billetita.” Leaving him, I walked up to oneof the lamps, by the light of which I read the superscription on the “belletita”—a quaint affair, covering nearly the whole of the envelope. It ran, or rambled thns: ** Por el Capitan, Commandante de los dragones, en cuartel acerco al Paseo de Las Vigas.”’ (For the captain, in command of the dragoons quartered near the Pa- seo Las Vigas.) My men were not dragoons; but the mistake was understandable, and the letter, as I knew, meant for myself. Breaking it open, I read: ‘“SpXNor Muy Estimapo: When last I saw you, you said you were curious to see a chinampa. f you're still in the same mind, perhaps you would come and see ours. My father and brother will both make you welcome; and need I say myself, also? Ah, seiior! when I think of what you did for me, how could it be otherwise? Salvador mio/ I shallever re- member you with gratitude, and would be so glad to see youagain. But that cannot be, unless youcome here; for father will not let me go any more to the city. Say you will come then—/for my sake / ‘** LORITA. ‘* Postscriptum,—Our chinampa is in Lake Chalco, beyond Tlalhuac. But you won't need any one to guide you, as the bearer of this who is an old friend <2 ak a and knows the way, will bring you in his oat. I read this note with mingled emotions, va- ried and at variance with one another—surprise, oe = oe and pain! Surprised at its having een written at all, and pleased, flattered, by the sentiments it contained; but pained at their I thought of the hints he, the bearer of it, had thrown out at our first interview, of how easily such conquest could be achieved; I thought of the insinuations of Colonel Espinosa, aud more, the facts of which he rg himself to have been wit- ness. And this letter seemed to bear out all! “For my sake—Lorita!” Certainly a strange expression, considering I had never spoken words of love, nor even flattery, to her who used it! And her calling me “Salvador,” after what Colonel Espinosa said he had seen between her and the man from whom I had saved her, was deception inconceivable! T could almost now believe, that her kissing my hand had a motive different from that to which I had attributed it! Not strange, then, my being pained, more pore gratified, by the contents of the singular epistle. Still, I might be wronging her. Surely I must be, and all could be explained. The note was in a masculine hand; therefore not written by her- self, for eae enough she could not write. Done, no doubt, by one of those public scribes, called evangelistas, of whom there is one in every Mexican village, and many in the larger towns and cities. Possibly Tlalhuac boasted of such a litteratewr, and she had employed him, dictating the general sense of what she meant to Captain of the Rifles. which he supposed would tify the receiver. I knew the evangelistas had such a habit. Looking at the letter in this light, I was less disposed to find fault with it, and altogether inclined to accept the invitation so unexpected- ly received. Face to face with her who had sent it, I should, perchance, have an opportunity of finding out whether she was that I had first supposed, and still could not help believing—a pure, guileless girl—or the deceiving one cir- cumstances seemed to declare her. All this passed through my mind in less than a minute’s time; and, returning to the messen- ger, who stood awaiting, and as I could see narrowly watching me, I said: ‘This note tells me you have a boat.” “Si, sor; a serviceo de V. Your excellency may not be aware that I am a pescador.” ‘**Ah! you're a fisherman?’ He looked any- thing but like it. ‘Well, can I have your boat to-morrow morning?” ‘*Undoubtedly, s’fior; the boat with your humble servant to row it. Where, and at what hour, might your excellency wish it to await rou?’ : I reflected amoment. Morning parade would be over by ten o’clock; but to make sure, I fixed the time at eleven, and the place by the bridge over the canal, close to my quarters. Another reflection suggested the prudence of the in- quiry: “How much do you expect to be paid for taking me to these chinampas? I mean where—” ““Oh! your excellency,” he interrupted, see- ing that I was puzzled to name the place, ‘I quite comprehend.” ‘* How much, then?’ ** Not a claco,” ‘*Oh! nonsense, my man! You're not so very rich, I take it, as to throw away your time in such profitless fashion.” ‘I’m as poor as was San Lazaro, S’fior Ca itan. Still, can afford to give that little bit of service gratuitously, to you, whose debtor I am for one much greater, as I've already said to you. Once more I made scrutiny of the fellow’s face; but, for the life of me, could not remem- ber having ever seen him before—save that once on the Paseo las Vigas. Much less could I re- call the service he seemed so anxious to requite. Again appealing to him to declare it, as before, he declined, saying: ‘*No matter about that, s’fior. I’d rather not speak of it now. To-morrow, when we're on the way to the chinampas, or returning, I prom- ise to be more communicative.” “Be itso. But you must name a sum for the use of your boat. I can’t think of having it a whole day without ing for it.” “Not a claco!” This time pronouncing the words with emphatic firmness. ‘‘ You ma think me over-generous, or over-grateful. But, your excellency does not seem to be aware that there’s somebody else has a say in this matter. What would La bella think of me, ifin taking to her one she so much wishes to—” “Enough!” I said, interrupting; ‘‘you’ll be by the canal bridge at eleven. CanI depend on ou?” ‘Sure as the cathedral clock, S’fior Capitan, you'll find me there with my boat. Buenas noches, Excellenza! Hasta la mafana,” (till to-morrow.) Then raising his hat and giving jit a swee vied. Chesterfield might have en glided o and out of sight. That night was for me one of surprises. And quick ones, another occurring almost on the in- stant. Just as the pee i eee, and [ was reéntering the theater, a Mexican youth, of the class rico, came rushing toward me, as he approached crying out: Oh, sefior! come with me! come with me!” “Where and for what?” “To our box. There’s a man there behaving —rudely—insulting my sisters.” ** What sort of man?’ “Un official Americano.” (An American officer.) ‘“‘ An American officer insulting ladies! You must be mistaken, muchachito,” ** No, indeed, sefior; ’tis as I tell you. Oh, ca- ballero! come, quick!” I had already started after the youth, and was following him along the corridor behind the boxes, in the belief that some drunken soldier had climbed out of the pit into the box occupied by the party. For it seemed incredible that any of our officers should be acting as de- scribed. On reaching the box door, which was open, I saw it was a private palco, curtained all round. Inside it were four individuals; two of them young ladies, both beautiful I could see, despite the shadow _in which they stood, or rather crouched. For they were off their seats cower- ing in a corner of the box, a stout elderly gentle- man standing guard between them and a young- er man in uniform, who seemed doing his best tobe nearer them. The house was inan uproar, b= = to frnile , gh a3 “ Verquenza p “Guardia!” and the ni on for ‘Turn him out!” 1‘ sedemass A: say, he putting in the sentimental passages,’ To my astonishment, chagrin, too, I saw that 7 the uniform was of our army—undress blue frock, silver facings, shoulder straps without bar—a second lieutenant of infantry! But it did not need these insignia to tell me the offi- cer’s rank, nor the arm of the service to which he belonged. A glance in his face enabled me to identify the man, Lieutenant Sullivan of the 4th Infantry regiment—a young Irishman, late pro- moted from the ranks for a gallant deed donein battle. Brave but bad, a Susie brute and bully, whose promotion, instead of reforming, had but further driven him to drink, with its kindred excesses. I saw he was intoxicated, then—so helplessly as to have difficulty in keep- ing his feet. No excuse, however, for so misbe- having himself; nor did I wait for his offering one. A file of the guard, seeing there was some- thing amiss, had followed me from the vesti- bule, and to them I gave the order for his in- stant arrest—that without the slightest cere- mony, notwithstanding his shoulder-straps. As they seized hold of him he ihe So and swore fearfully. But to no Jeet anes e was dragged out and off to the guard-house prison, there to pass the remainder of the night. I might have lingered a little longer in that pie box, listening to sweet words of ti- de, but for the necessity of seeing Mr. Sulli- van bestowed. Yielding to this, I bowed my- self out of it, without asking either the name or address of the gentleman to whom it belonged. Possibly, but for the billetita I had just stowed away in my breast pocket, with thoughts of the morrow, I would not have been so careless about making his acquaintance.. CHAPTER IX. TREACHERY OR DECEPTION? In that elevated plain, known as the Valley of Mexico, lying over seven thousand feet above the level of the sea, are six large lakes. Hum- boldt and other travelers speak of only five, Notwithstanding there are six of them; four in the northern section of the valley, the largest, Tezcoco, occupying an area of a hundred square miles. 6 waters of these northern lakes are more or less inde ema with salt—Tezcoco so much, that one bathing in it will have his skin incrusted with a whitish substance resemblin hoar frost; while often wild fowl that ali upon it, and remain too long, get their wing pinions so glued together as to render them in- capable of flying up again. round the edges of these saline sheets of wa- ter all is sterility, as on the shores of the Dead Sea. Vegetation shrivels, if it does not alto- gether refuse to show itself, and only those pee flourish to which a salitrose soil is conge- nial. Altogether different the two lakes, Chalco and Xochimilco, which eae the southern portion of the valley, these together having a superficial extent almost equaling that of Tezcoco. They might indeed be regarded as one, but for a nar- row neck of land between—the calzada of Tlal- huac, along which marched the es tence Han making their first approach on Tenochtillan. This isthmus must have been even narrower then; for it is well known that great subsidence has since taken place in the waters of these lakes, as also a silting up. Tezcoco, at the oe day, has in no p a depth of over six eet. As for Chaleo and Xochimilco, neither can any longer be called a lake, in the proper signi- fication of the word, both being ove wn with a thick sedge, so that throughout their whole extent a fleck of open water is scarce anywhere to be seen. But, unlike Tezcoco, their waters are sweet, with not a trace of saline mixture, and under a sky of eternal spring, or summer, it need scarce be said that the vegetation in and great depth, rarely over five or six feet, the plants so covering them do not spring up from the bottom; instead, having their roots in a stratum which floats on the sur- face, this consisting of the living roots them- selves, with the débris of decayed leaves and stalks intermingled—the whole forming a fibrous mass which resembles mat-work. In the language of the country it is called cinta ; and, as will presently be seen, has much to do with the formation of the “‘ floating gar- dens ””—about which Humboldt, with Prescott, and others following him, has given an errone- ous account. Indeed, their mode of construc- tion is evenstilla puzzle tothe Euro savant, Nor is it much better understood by Mexicans themselves—that is, those who reside in cities. So far as I am aware, no traveler, ancient or modern, has explored that vast wilderness of swamp occupying the south-eastern portion of the Mexican valley, while to dwellers in the pte itself it is ost as much a terra incog- nita. The more was I desirous to make exploration of it; above all to see some of the famed float- ing gardens, which I had been told existed there. And now that circumstances had invest ed them with a new interest, my desire to pay them a, visit was greater than ever. So, I was
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8 unctual to a minute with the fisherman and his at. He also proved true to time and promise; for at the hour appointed I found him by the canal bridge, seated in his craft awaiting me. It struck me that he looked a little surly, on seeing that I was accompanied. I had asked a | brother-officer, Lieutenant Crittenden, of the ‘dragoons, to go with me; and he was along. Whatever the cause of his displeasure, however, the boatman got over it, on our presenting him witha packet of cigarritos, which he accepted with a ‘‘ muchas gracias.” Then lighting one, he commenced working his oars, and we were | For the first four or five miles our way was through a low-lying tract of land, past the | tice as an oarsman, pueblos of Istacaleo, Mexicalzingo, and Culhua- can. Beyond Tomatlan the canal enters Lake Xochimilco, through which it runs longitudinal- ; ly, toward the lake’s southern end. But before reaching this, it turns abruptly eastward, and | ‘crossing the Calzada of Tlalhuac, through an | artificial cutting, it continues on through the sister lake, to the ancient town of Chalco on its eastern shore. Other minor waterways inter- | sect the marsh, communicating with various villages around its edge, as also with one or two situated upon islands, as Xico and Mezquio. These branches, called acalotés, are all narrow lists, ye open by the boat traffic, which along many of them is considerable. Sometimes, how- ver, from violent storms, or other causes, por- *tions of the quagmire become detached, and drifting about, close up the canals, or change | their courses, so that new routes have to be | | people of Tlalhuac, and as natural for him to | Crittenden, however, could lay no claim to suc!) ie -- After entering among the sedges, we gave but little heed to our boat or boatman, our attention being taken up with the scenery—forms of vege- tation so new to us, and strange species of wild fowl, which, disturbed by our intrusion upon their solitary domain, gave out cries of alarm as they rose up in flocks, and flew around us. This, after a time, becoming monotonous, we desisted from observing it, and bent our eyes upon the pescador—to see that he was making but poor progress, managing his craft rather clumsily, as one not much accustomed to oars, or certainly little skilled in the use of them. Strange that, his calling of fisherman con- sidered. But he may not have been long en- gaged at it, and therefore without much prac- Thus reasoning, we let our ! Beadle’s Dime Library. AT WHICH I LIFTED HIM FROM HIS LEGS, AND WITH AN OUTWARD JERK SHOT HIM OVER INTO THE CANAL. know the individual on the bank. What seemed strange was, that they should pass one another without bidding ‘‘ Buenas dias,” a discourtesy uncommon in Mexico, even among strangers. For the two had not saluted, either by word or gesture! Still, they might be acqu iintances without being friends. Why my comrade and I should have any ap- rehension of danger may call for explanation. t is easily given. Though our army had con- quered most part of the country, and several brigades were quartered in its capital, the Mex- icans still maintained a form of government in the city of Queretaro, with a force of troops nu- merically strong; while bands of gquerileros abounded. Many of these were no better than robbers, but so much the worse for those of our mi ils surprise pass away, without communicating it | soldiers who had the misfortune to fall into their to the man. Going so slowly, however, it was after two o’clock when we reached Tlalhuac, and entered | | often close to our camp, or barracks, within gun- the cutting which carries the canal across into Lake Chaleco. We could see there was a village | on the calzada close by, inhabited by Indians, as could be told by the style and character of the dwellings. But, while regarding these from the boat, I observed several men moving about | the place, who appeared to be either whites or | mestizoes, as they were dressed in a fashion uite unlike the simple garb of the Lake Indian. oreover, as we passed through the narrow water gorge, a man standing on the bank above, | he certainly not an Indian, appeared to ex- change a look of intelligence with our boatman. Of itself there was nothing in this. man would naturally be acquainted with the | hands—as some actually had. A fatal mis- chance; since they were murdered without mercy—in many instances mutilated! And this shot of our sentries. One poor fellow of my own company, taking a solitary stroll outside the suburbs of the capital, and not six hundred yards from where his comrades were in quar- ters, had been thus assassinated; after death, a cross cut on his forehead, with two others deep gashed into the soles of his feet. It will scarce be wondered at then, that we began to feel misgivings, even regret for having entered upon the excursion at all. We had both taken the preesution to put on | Mexican dresses, and as I had already been A fisher- complimented on my resemblance to the native, there need be nothing to fear on my account,
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Captain of the Rifles. similitude. His complexion was a bright rubi- cund, his hair red as a earrot. In truth was there reason for our apprehen- sions, There were we, in the midst of a very maze of marsh; amovg bulrushes and other aquatic plants, so tall as far to overtop our heads—in a boat gliding along narrow water stretches—rowed by a man having aught but an amiable countenance—quite a stranger to us, or what we knew of him anything but in his fa vor! He could conduct us whithersoever it might please him—perhaps into some den of salteadores, to be set upon and slain by them without the slightest compassion! But why should he do so? That was the ques- tion, per contra, which came up to tranquilize us. Barring a little rudeness on our first inter- THE INDIAN GIRL HALF STARTED UP AND SAT’ HANGING OVER THE EDGE OF THE HAMMOCK: | 9 esty ; instead, further excited them. The worst of it was, we could not communicate with one another, even by signs. For the fellow, as we sat in the stern, had his face toward, and all the time his eyes fixed on us. True, we spoke a language he ought not to understand: but the rascal, despite his raggedness, seemed so full of accomplishments, I thought it just possible he might tnve picked that up, or a smattering of it, in his intercourse with our soldiers. Other Mexicans had done so, of the same class as he. By this, we had forsaken the main canal which crosses the lake to Chalco, and turned northward along one of the lesser acalotés. He said it was the way to the place we were bent for. Not a direct one, at all events, but crooked as could well be; curving and zigzagging to Se SS aS rd | view, I had offered him no offense afterward; | every quarter of the compass, as we could tell ' while he, on his side, kept telling me he was my | by the sun, at one moment shining in our faces, debtor for some service I had done him. ‘This | the next being bebind our backs! was a mystery which still needed clearing up; and as he had promised me the eclaircissement some time during our journey, it now occurred to me to remind fim of his promise, Something might come of it to allay our apprehensions. { ‘T would willingly do so, S’nor Capitan,” he said, in answer to my appeal. “ But,” he con- | tinued, with a look toward Crittenden, ‘it so | chances that the friendly turn, for which ’m under obligations to your excellency, was of a somewhat private nature, and can only be | spoken of to yourself. Therefore, I trust you will not pee me, tilla fitter opportunity offers.” O cence had the effect of making my curiosit. keener than ever. Nor had his ans Yer done anything to remove our suspicion: o! iis kew: c | been telling you a fib, course I could not insist; though his reti- For all of three good hours we were occupied in this tortuous navigation; which caused me surprise, as renewed apprehension. For I re- membered the young Indian having said, their chinampa was not such a great distance beyond Tlalhuac, We must have already come three or four leagues, since leaving this place, and still no signs of a chinampa! Making known to our boatman what ‘the In- dian had told me, I received for response, and in whisper meant only for myself: “Ah! S’nior Capitan; that muchachito has Natural he should; see- ing he’d been put up to it by the sister. She wants you to come; and for that reason repre- sented the distance less than it is.” Then raising his voice, and addressing himself to both of us, he continued, ‘‘ We haven’t much further to go now. In another hour or so, we shall reach our journey’s end.” “* Another hour!” “Si, for. Surely you don’t think that much?” ““So much, it will leave but little time for us to get back to the city before night.” ‘*But do your excellencies intend returning to- night?” “‘Of course we do.” “Caramba! I didn’t know that. I supposed you meant staying over night with the fainily on the chinampa.” si Ww emeant nothing of the sort; and don’t now.” ‘Well, caballeros; it won’t be absolutely im- possible to get back to the city, this night, Mi Bi J ts == ) SN SS Sa Sak weet though late. And if your excellencies promise not to dally too long on the floating gardens, I’ll | do the best 1 can for you. But it’s very fascina- ting among those flowers; especia in the company of that charming muchac And once there, E) Capitan, if I mistake not, won't care to change his quarters much before morn- ing; the alcalde is very hospitable, and the Queen is—” ‘* Row on, sirrah! Row on!” I eried out, an- grily, displeased with allusions, which bad more than once given me di ; and now an- gered by the evident deception practiced—by whom? ‘Oh, certainly,” he rejoined, with a look more rebellious than obedient, at the same time ' pretending to apply himself more industriously to the oar. It was now well on in the afternoon, and my comrade and I began to think we were really in
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for a night of it. There was but scant chance left of our getting back to the city before morn- ing. Indeed, none at all, unless, favored by a moon, of which there seemed little likelihood. For the sky was now clouded all over, as it had been for the past hour or so. Awkward, if we did not report ourselves that same night; since, for a short excursion, as we had supposed our- selves starting upon, neither had obtained leave of absence at head-quarters, nor thought of ask- ing for it. As concerned myself, it did not mat- ter much. Ina sort of way I held an indepen- dent command, being superior officer of the de- tachment stationed at Las Vigas. But Critten- den had a captain over him, a very martinet of a disciplinarian, who might not be so satisfied, but instead very angry with his subaltern for such seeming neglect of duty. However, there was no help for it now, in either case; and so re- flecting, we made up our minds to bother no more aboutit. Sufficient for that day was the evil thereof, and it might be more. “ Mira! Las chinampas!” called out our boatman; and looking ahead we at length saw the famed “ Floating Gardens.” CHAPTER X. THE FLOATING GARDENS. Now that we had as good as reached the goal of our journey, all doubts of our boatman’s fidelity passed out of our minds, or for the time were no more dwelt upon. We were too much interested in the novel spectacle which had come under our eyesto think of aught else. And novel it was. The boat had shot into a sheet of open water, semicircular in shape, and having a diameter of about a mile. Ranged along this last, in a row, nearly regular, were some scores of little thatched huts, or chozas, at equal dis- tances ap ri 7 pasineg A dwellings, since there was smoke rising over most of them. As wo drew nearer we could see that each stood on its own plot of ground, as so many de- tache1l laborers’ cottages with gardens in front: There were gardens there, too, but instead of being contiguous, with a brick wall or timber paling between, they were separated b water drains, about the width of a_canal. Alongside each lay a large, flat-bottomed boat, of the punt pattern; and by most, a smaller craft, either s or canoe; while their owners were observed standing beside the boats or moy- ing about among the flower-plots, some in the act of cultivating them. By the doors of the huts sat or'stood dark-skinned, black-haired wo- men of all ages, most of them wearing only a petticoat, girt loosely over their loins, and a sleeveless chemise but scantily covering their breasts, while around them eee children of both sexes, almost in a state of nudity, their smooth brown skins giving them the a ce of little images of bronze, fresh from the cast- ing mold. boatman had already admonished us that the chinampa of Don Tito was at the further end of the row, and we should have to pass all the others to reach it. So had we; and as we were rowed along their front I saw sufficient to con- firm the account I had received of these curious gardens, and that they were afloat, — enough. Even the slight waves from our ski caused a PEE undulation throughout the whole line, while those nearest rose and fell, as rafts or canal boats disturbed by a passing steamer. On necing a boat, their owners—men, wo- men and children—ran out to their gardens’ extreme ends, and stood gazing at us in aston- ishment, as though it were a sight rather strange to them. [, on my side, fancied that among their faces was more than one I had seen before—which was likely enough, since nearly all of them were market-gardeners, and eet lave often passed by Las Vigas on their way to the Mercada de San Domingo, They call nothing, however; nor did we offer to enter into conversation with them, but kept on to the further extremity of this Transatlantic Venice, where dwelt its Doge. On nearing it we per- ceived a chinampa, of~larger size than any of the others, with a cabin of somewhat more pre- tentious appearance—clearly the residence of the alcalde. ““'That’s the one you’re bound for, caballeros,” said the boatman, pointing to it over his shoul- der. ‘Ill set you out upon it; and then I must ask the indulgence of your excellencies to spare me for a little while. Ive an old acquaintance near the other end with whom I wish to have a bit of ap You won’t need me on the chi- nampa; and,” he added, with a leer, ‘‘ no doubt El Capitan would prefer being without me.” “My good fellow,” Isaid, more than ever an- noyed at his impertinent speeches, “ you can go where you please.” I had almost added, that his company was not so very agreeable, but the thought that we were dependent on him and his boat for taking us back hindered me from com- ing to a rupture-with him, Besides, we were now approaching the palace where dwelt the Queen of the Lakes, and that kept my spleen under restraint. “Gracias!” he grinned out: “T shall avail myself of your excellency’s kind permission.” **Be sure you get back in—in—say an hour. We can’t possibly stay longer.” Beadle’s Dime Library. “ An hour will be enough for me; or less, if your excellency so orders it.” ‘*Oh! you can take an hour.” We had now arrived at the chinampa, and the boat being brought up alongside we end te out upon the unstable ground, which sensibly trem- bled beneath our feet. Soon as out of his craft, the pescador, taking ‘off his hat, and saluting us with a ‘‘ Hasta luego !” (vill presently), rowed himself off again, Rather glad to be rid of him, if only for a short while, we did not look after or take note of the way he went. Our eyes were turned in the opposite direction, making survey of the singular spot on which we had set foot. Only the pos part of the cabin was visible, some tall flowering plants and shrubs screening it below. No one was seen around it, nor heard we human voice. Something we at first took for this turned out to be but the talk of a speak- ing parrot, which, with other exclamations, at intervals called out: ‘‘ Lora—Lora—Lorita !”— its own name in truth. We thought the silence strange, as also no one appearing to greet us. But our boatman had made very little noise with his oars; besides he spoke in a low tone at taking leave, and they might be inside the hut without having heard us. Or, was the whole family abroad on a visit to some other chinam- 3 is could hardly be. We had passed all the others, and if on any of them they would onl seen, and hastened home to receive us. ore likely they were inside the cabin. From where we had landed a path led off be- tween the flower-plots, and without reflecting further we struck along it. All was fragrance around; flowers in full bloom, though it was December! As we drew near, the parrot once more called, “‘ Lora—Lorita—ita—ita!” when a small hairless dog came out of the door, and see- ing us ran in again, angrily growling. Once more the ‘caged creature called the familiar name, but louder and more excitedly, following it up with a series of clucks. But now sounds of sweeter tone became mingled with the harsh notes of the beast and bird—a soft feminine voice saying: “5 t’s frighted you, guacamaya mia ? And you, perro; why do you growl so? It must be father and brother got home; I thought I heard oars. Yes; there they are!” By this my comrade and I had come close up to the door, which stood open; and looking through some vines trellised in front we saw the interior of the cabin. An interesting spectacle it presented, in keeping with the scene around. A young Indian gir was reclining in a hamaca which was stretched between two of the u rights that 22 Ny the roof. More correct say gree oF ning; for, on hearing our foot- steps she had half-started up, and now sat with one limb, nude to the knee, hanging over the edge of the hammock. In another instant, see- ing us, she sprung out of it, and came forth, her looks showing surprise, and some little alarm. It quite disconcerted me, expecting a very dif- ferent sort of reception. But I had forgotten my disguise, and thatI might not be ag ome Neither was I on the instant, nor until I spoke, in thus coming to visit you without first having Ht Oh bate !” she exclaimed, interrupting. ero!” she exc A “Ts it indeed you?” The change which came over her countenance was a more eloquent welcome than could be conveyed by any words; for though there was still a trace of wonder in her the alarm seemed to have passed away. ithal, the ex- on did not satisfy, but rather puzzled me —so unlike that of one who had indited such an invitation. In warmth the welcome did not co. nd with the contents of the billetita, Still, there was a third party present, who was- a stranger to her. i 4 A Consoling tein with this, I was about Er ceeding to fu apologies, when the. rattling of oars in their rowlocks struck upon our ears. At which the girl exclaimed, starting forward: “‘That must be father and brother now!._Oh, sefiors! I’m so glad they’re home. Else how could I have entertained you?” And she glided past.us, on to the Janding- ce. . While she was gone my reflections were by no means of a pleasant nature, nor my compre- hension of things clear. Glad that the father and brother had got home! Strange, that. seemed to me, remembering what she had writ- ten. As it turned out, only one of the two had ar- rived; the brother having remained behind at Chalco, where they had been on some business. Introduction to the father followed; the easier as ba knew all about what had happened in the canal at Las Vigas—for which he, too, was pro- fuse in| expressions of gratitude, en suc- ceeded our explanation as to why we were coming, The RE still only a middle-aged man, had all the air and bearing which might belong to a cacique; and soon as the first moments of em- \ to partake of such fare as his humble home af- forded. An invitation neither of us was loth to accept, for by this we were both hungry as hyenas. It ended in a table being spread inside the cabin, with viands of various kinds placed upon it. These came from a still emailer hut de- tached—a sort of kitchen—whecie an oldish In« dian woman filled the office of cocine#a:., . While we were en aged on thé tomestibles set before us—nearly all dishes of the ancient Aztec cuisine—the conversation turned to that which there, with the apologies interrupted by his, barrassment were over, courteously invited ng | was the professed object of our visit—the chin- ampas, How are they constructed?” I asked of Don Tito, who sat by us at the table, though not eat- ing. The girl had gone outside. “That’s easy enough,” he answered; ‘‘ noth- ing easier, caballero, It's only to saw them out of the cinta. When any one wants a chinampa he begins by hewing a ditch all around it, as se see with this of mine. Then floating the oose pieces out of the way, he gets at the bot- tom, where there’s always plenty of mud. That drawn up, and laid thick over the growing rushes and other plants, soon kills them. When the mud gets dry, it only needs breaking up to make the very best of seed-beds; and will grow any thing—vegetables, fruits, or flowers.” ‘But do you not first lay a foundation of sticks, or timber?” I was thinking of the account of their con- struction given by certain historians and travelers, the truth of which I had long doubted. ‘*No, indeed,” answered the Indian, with a stare of surprise. ‘‘Any one who did that would have more labor than profit, timber being so scarce round our lake. Besides, it wouldn’t serve for such a se. A chinampa resting upon a raft of that kind would soon go to the bottom, with eve ing on it.” ‘* Why does yours keep afloat, then?” ‘* Because it’s not set upon sticks, but on what makes the cinta itself.” ‘* What is that?” ‘* The roots of the plants growing on it, wit their stalks and leaves when dead. They ar all twined and warped together, sometimes three feet in thickness or even more. I can show you some slices cut straight down, that are nearer four feet wide. e use them as screens to protect the young plants from the sun, when it’s too hot, and sometimes from the hailstones when it/hails. The ’s as light as cork; that’s why it will carry so much weight. Besides, it never rots—as would a raft of sticks.” “ But why are your chinampas made so small, and drains cut around them? Would it not do as well if they were made larger, and on the cinta itself?” “That would not do at all, sefor. Where would the soil come from to make them with? And where the water for our plants, during the many months when we have no rain? We can always irrigate them from the sides, and get more mud from the bottom. That is needed to ef them in repair, as also to manure them; and if they were laid out very large, it would not be so convenient.” The phiseophy of the “ floating gardens” was now for the time clear to my comprehen- sion—that problem which has so long perplexed the savans—even to this day unsolved by them though three centuries and a half have ela since Cortez and his companions first beheld them with wondering eyes, as they advanced to the conquest of Tenochtitlan! CHAPTER XI. BETRAYED, Havine, throughout all my tits, a fondness for inquiring into curious habits and customs, I had listened with interest to the Indian’s rela- tion. Still notso much as under different cir- cumstances, I might have done. A feeling of impatienee, not say uneasiness, had crept over me, which also affected my brother officer, \As, could see by the way he was shifting about ow his, seat. Our uneasiness was greater after the expiration of the hour in which our boat- man had promised to be back, and there was no sign of him. And when another half-hour elapsed without his showing himself, the appre- hensions we had already felt returned in fuller force. What if he did not come at all? He might. be drinking with his old crony, and have forgotten all about his engagement. And how were we to get back to the city? True, we might borrow a boat from our host, and find some one to row it; though for the rowing, we could do that ourselves, Money would make all right so far as the boat. Andin the end the con- sequences could not be so serious; only a little later in reaching our respective quarters. We wight have reasoned thus, but did not. At least, not when we saw the sun nearly down, without seeing aught of the truant boatman. And now, with apprehensions excited to their utmost, my comrade and I recalled the various incidents of the day.w! ich had led us to suspect his fidelity, with some others besides, known but to myself. We had long ere this finished our repast, and gone forth again among the flowers, I wanted to have a few words in pri- vate with the girl, but I could not find the op- F
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portunity, for all the while her father ye with us. What to me was strange enough, she did not seem to seek it, of at all events made no sign! Thinking of what had passed I could not comprehend her seeming indifference. Cha- grined, almost irritated by it, I thought. of has- tening away from her presence; when at length I found myself alone with her, Crittenden and the alcalde having gone off behind the choza, I fancied that a change came over her features as her father passed out of sight. Turning to me, she said; ‘““You appear to be greatly interested in our chinampas. y is that?” “Because they are very curious.” ‘But have you never seen any before? I think you said you had not.” ‘‘T never have.” “ And We have been in many other countries besides Mexico, have you not?’ “Yes, many; but Mexico is the only country in which there are chinampas.” “Indeed! I thought they were everywhere.” “Oh no; only here. Some are spoken of else- pny but they are not real floating gardens as ese. ‘* Ah, then, that’s why you were so curious to see them. I can now understand.” “Not altogether; there was another reason for my having a desire to visit them.” he bent her eyes on me inquiringly, as I thought and hoped, with some eagerness, ask- ing: f What was that, sefior?” The question caused me to hesitate. I dare not give the direct answer, which would have been to say, herself. Our acquaintance was not old enough for that. “Well, for one thing, sefiorita,” coming to it in a roundabout way, I was desirous of know- ing whether you had sustained any injury from that wetting in the canal, caught a cold, or something of the sort.” She laughed, like the brother had done when I spoke of sending a man for his boat. *‘No, no. Not much fear of my catching a cold. Only the city people have that; never we here.” \ “And the fright did you no harm?” “Nor that, sefior, It might but for you. I knew you must still be near, that’s why I shouted so. Then I saw you come galloping down the Paseo, and wasn’t any longer afraid. ** You've never seen the an since, I sup- “How could I, sefior? Since then we've never been to the city, either myself or brother, I feared—that is we thought—” the red came to her cheeks as she changed the words—‘ we might never see you ag It is very kind of you to come here.” The air of perfect innocence with which all this was said quite delighted me. It corres- ponded with the naivete of the note which I had mistaken for unbecoming boldness. And her speech recalling this, I redoined: ‘Par kinder of you to wish me come; and I ought to have sooner thanked you for the invi- tation.” : Her eyes sought my face in surprise as she in- terrogatively echoed the word: “Invitation?” Yes; that letter you wrote me yesterday. At least I received it yesterday; and, as you see, Lobe answered it in person—soon as it was possible,’ ' Her Neha opened wider in their wonder as she rejoin : ‘Isend you a letter, sefior? Alas! I cannot write.” ** And do you know nothing of this?” Thad brought the note with me, and drawing it out, held it before her face. “Ah! neither can I read. What is it? What in it say, sefior?” t was my turn to be rised, and something more. There was no misting her candor, thus einige Neither she, nor an -# gett written that ite ut some one else, and for a pu v erent to that I had supposed if indited. "estive was I now, that my life, as my comrade’s, was in danger. ‘No matter, sefiori *T said return- ing the letter to my pocket, and making an at- tempt to laugh, “only a little joke that a friend's been playing upon me. However, I shall him back for it yet. But,” Ladded, with a feok at the setting sun, ‘it’s time we were start- ing on our return, and if our boatman fail, T must ask your father to lend us some sort of evange or MOH he will + do that willingly,” sh interrupting. ‘He hasa aaa b Bay Bra " ut my brother --I wish he were here to go with you,’ Just_ then, Crittenden and the ‘alcalde joined us, and Iasked the latter whether it was pos- sible for some one to be sent after our delaying boatman, - To which he made answer, by hailing a young fellow who was peddling past in his canoe, and ordering him to come up, an order prompt- ly obeyed. fe Poet he called to the canoeman, “ along the line of chinampas, and find the BOAT: ) man who brought these gentlemen here. By the way, Ssefores, what’s his name? If I knew Captain of the Rifles. See I might be able to tell who he’s gossiping with. His name! Here wasa poser. Neither I nor my comrade knew it, not caring and never hay- ing thought of asking for it from the man him- self. ‘Indeed, Sefior Alcalde,” I said, ‘‘ we can’t tell you; he is a stranger to us.” Long ere this I would haye made inquiries about our boatman’s cognomen, with other par- ticulars respecting him, from Don Tito himself, But believing him to be, as he had represented, a friend of the family, I forbore, not wishing to let them know that we had doubts of his fidel- ity. “No matter,” returned the Indian; “ go on, Pepe. Find him soon as you can. Say the gen- tlemen are waiting for their boat.” At which Pepe paddled off, sending his craft like an arrow through the \ .ter, Soon as he was gone, thinking reticence no longer desirable, I turned to our host, say- ing: f Sefior Alcalde, although we don’t know our boatman’s name, I fancy I can give you a de- scription by which eM way identify him, see- ing hat he’s an old friend of yours.” * An old friend of mine?” “So he represents himself.” “Un Indio?” ‘No; he’s a mestizo, and follows the calling of pescador,” “A pescador? Strange, that is. I know of none expepting. among my own people. Nor can I think of any mestizo who should be call- in himself my It must be a mis- take. While he was speaking I had kept my eyes fixed on the pine tace: Bat no $i, Toiere, that the man we were speaking of was known to her. If he was, then must she be a mistress of dece tion; for, on her father appealing to her, she de- nied all knowledge of any such acquaintance, fisherman or otherwise. All this only made my comrade and self more apprehensive. Indeed, we were now good as sure we had been tricked, and that there was trouble in store for us. “A trap, by the Eternal!” exclaimed Critten- den, on hearing what I had to tell him., ‘‘ Yes, old fellow; and we're in it, sure.” Still surer it seemed when the canoeman com- ing back, which he did the instant after, cried out: Tiend, “There’s no stranger on va es the chinam- pas, Sefior Don Tito. I’ve ing at every one of them.” For a second or two the alcalde stood silent, apparently reflecting, then called out: Go back, Pepe! Try along, the: canal for Tlalhuac; you may find him there.” The canoeman, a lithe active fellow, shot his craft off again, and was soon out of sight. For by this the sun was down, and the purple of twi- light had overspread the water. Don Tito, turn- ing to us, continued: ‘Being a or, as-you say, sefiores, he may beemploying his time to catch fish. There are some of large size in the dee water, just be- yond where the acaloté enters the lake.” The conjecture was without probability; so we said to our host. And now that things were looking queer, we took him further .i con- fidence, telling him all we knew of the boatman, and how we had come to engage hin, Nothing, however, about the letter of invitation. Spu- rious though that was it would expose certain matters I preferred CORPO 0 myself, Still the alcalde did not k we were in any danger. There were no guerilleros in that neighborhood; at least so far as he had heard. And if the ador had played us a. trick, it might be only to gratify some spite of own, or for other reason unexplained, **Tn the end,” he said, winding up with words more comforting, ‘it won’t matter so much yon I can give you a boat, or Pepe will ° here, that I could send him along with you,” We were in the act of thanking him for his offer, when the canoeman was again seen mak- ing approach, paddling his craft asif ina re- ge ia Soon as within hailing. distance he call- out; “‘Sefior Alcalde! Sefior Alcalde!” “ What is it, Pepe?” “There are men pomning along the acaloté, Three big boatfuls of them!” ‘What sort of men?” “*T couldn’t well see, your worship; only that they’re strangers, and not of our people, but blancos. ‘They’re soldiers I think, for they have arms—guns and spears!” Long before the frightened Pepe had reached the end of his report, my comrade and I could have finished it for him, and with better com- prehension than he. 6 were at length con- vinced that the boatman had betrayed us, and that the men in the boats were the same we had seen h around tlie houses at Tlalhuac. Guerilleros they might be, but more likely a coup by capturing us, and demanding a ransom, | For the riscatta_is.as much a practice among | the banditti of Mexico, as their brethren of Na- ples and the Abruzzi. ou in his canoe. I only wish my son was | of lightn “T told you we were in for it,” muttered Crit- tenden, looking anxious, but resolute. He was not the man to feel fear. ‘‘ A devil of a fix it pEoks, too! How’re we to get out of it, old fel- | low? , ‘*Heaven only knows; the best way we can. Haye. you your reyolver ready?” *T have; and it’s good for six of them.” “Mine the same. If there’s not too many, and we get anything like a fair chance, we may save ourselves yet. These Mexicans don’t know what six-shooters are. In any case let us sell our lives dearly.’ While this brief ainoess was passing between my comrade and myself, Don Tito, who had stepped out to the water’s edge, was holding a like hurried conversation with the canoeman, also in undertone, . But for a strong belief that I had secured his friendship, along with grati- tude fo , service * had rendered him, I might have fancied the, were in conspira- cy agoinst us, To have suspected him, howevy- er, would have been a grievous Wrong, as was proved by his «.fter behavior. Parting from the canoeman, and histening back to us, he said: “Caballeros! aftor all I fear you may be in some ie Who these armed men are I can- not tell, e’ve never seen such at our chinam- ra before, and I think they must be coming af- r you! ‘““We think so too; are sure of it,” ‘« Ah! you know something about them, then?” ‘* We havé stispicions,” * And you don’t wish to meet them?” ‘* Certain y not—anything but that,” ‘* Well; there’s a way by which you may avoid it.” “ There is a way?” “Si, seflores; and time enough yet. Pepe is a skillful paddler, and by good luck has got here a good way ahead of them, as he tells me. You must go into his canoe, and he'll take you alon an acaloté, where there’s little fear of their fol- lowing ber But there’s no time for saying more, These ts, whoever they are, must now nigh, Into the tanoe, caballeros!” ‘But yourself and—your daughter?” -I glanced at the girl, all the while standing by i he expression upon her features less of fear t "9 atixie ai P got our Bei nae eg with excited speech she part with her fa- ther reing us to instant flight.., “Oh, sefior!” she said to mein a half-whisper, ane peegaching ly ‘*There may be danger. Go: 0 go. ; “Have no care for us,” was the alcalde’s an- swer to,.my question. ‘‘ Whoever the strangers be, we have no cause of quarrel with them, and they’re not likely to have any with us poor chi- namperos. Even if robbers, as you appear to think, there’s nothing here to tempt them,” He seemed unconscious of the gy trea- iad pe had standing by his side, But notI, and said: ‘They may be rude, for all that.” “No r, caballero,” he rejoined, compre- hending; ‘if they attempt to land on. our chi- nampa and I see sign of bad behavior, they, won't. find us at home. We havea boat behind, and there are ways through the cinta, known But now— ough she had not sent me that letter of invitation, I was as welcome as if she had, CHAPTER XII. THE SWAMP-STORM.- , It was now pitch dark; for besides being night, the sky had become heavily overcast, portending one of those pete storms com- mon on the high table-lands, Thunder was pS en Bape a distance, and an occasional flash ig lit up the firmament, while div of rain, big as pistol-bullets, began to st nha down upon the water’s surface still smooth. That it. would not be long so could be predict! by the rushing noise heard up among the mor 4 tains, where a strong wind was Yaalciaig its way through their passes. On parting from the ‘Chinampas, TI observed that our canoeman had turned his crait in a di rection the reverse to that by which we had ap- proached them, and was.heafliing for the op; « site end of the open sheet, It was but a coup!> of hun: y off, and on reaching it he slict. the canoe into anoth ‘ er acaloté Fifty yards further on, this’ Separated fits two branches, and I noticed that he took il. right one, though the narrower. My seat wis in the stern, and as the long pe a kecled round, I again caught a glance ofthe floatin;: gardens, with + here ona there glimmerin; along their line like a row of stre oe 8 The one was burning inside the choza we had lately left—like enough reflected on that beautiful face seeming before me, Just band _ of real robbers, who designed making a.| then a vivid blaze of lightning made everything co clear as daylight, an d distinguish the reed-thatched uts amid their.embowering of shrubs and flowers. But my eyes rested not on them, for the same flash showed me three boats,
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12 2 SARE RENE REY. each with several men in it, out on the open wa- ter, and to all appearance making direct for the t from which we had just parted! Instantly was dark as before, with silence around us, save the measured plunging of the paddle; its double blade dealing strokes alternately on each side as though it were a pair of oars. From the rate of apdedt at which our craft was now progressing, we need have no further fear of pursuit by those in the boats—whoever they might be, or however hostile. Nor thought I more about them, so far as we ourselves were concerned. But [ had apprehensions, neverthe- less, for those we had left behind, which I could not shake off. Despite the confident assurances of the Indian father, I did not share his confi- dence; instead, believed that, if not himself, his daughter was in danger. It was vain ey Ag | on it, since we could do nothing to avert it, an dismissing it from my mind, as much as possi- ble, I turned to what more nearly concerned ourselves. Naturally, the first thought was, whither we were “peg Serger Up to this mo- ment not a word had been said about that. ‘‘ Where are you paddling for, Sefior Pepe?’ I asked of the young Indian. Don Tito had made us acquainted with his name, and I knew that the title prefixed would have an effect upon him favorable to ourselves, The Mexican Indian is always flattered at being ddressed as ‘‘ Senor.” “To San Isidro, your excellency. The alcalde directed me to take you there.” ‘¢ And how far is it to San Isidro?” ‘‘Oh, a very short distance; less than three leagues. If it don’t get too dark, we should do it in the matter of an hour and a half, or two hours at most. There’s a shorter way we could have gone—by the main acaloté., But his wor- ship told me to take this, in fear those people in the boats might come after us. But he needn’t have trotibled his head about that. I could give them a mile in every two, and then they wouldn’t see the waves my canoa made in the water. Caramba, no!” ‘““But what when we get to this San Isidro? If I remember right, it lies near the Vera Cruz road, a good fifteen miles from the city.” It was Crittenden who now interrogated, thinking of a reprimand from his superior offi- cer, the martinet. , “So it does, caballero,” assentingly answered the Indian. ‘‘San Isidro is just fifteen miles from the garita.” ‘““ And how after that are we to get to the city?” eagerly questioned the lieutenant of dra- goons. ‘ Must we walk it?” “Not unless your excellencies would prefer that heb 7 m9 er walking! My good fellow, we are cavalrymen, and not used to that sort of thing. Fifteen miles along a hard road—as I know the Vera Cruz causeway to be—would blister our feet so bad that to-morrow we couldn’t set them in the stirrup.” “But, caballero,” protested the canoeman, ‘‘there will be no need for you to walk.” ‘You think horses can be had at San Isidro, then?’ “Tm sure of it, s’fior. Don Tito has a friend there who'll provide them. I have his worship’s instructions to see that he does.” “How very thoughtful of Don Tito,” said Crittenden, now eamaipr a | himself to me, in a tongue the other was not likely to understand; then adding: ‘‘He’s a true gentleman, despite his copper-colored skin. As for the daughter if hers wasn’t.a shade too dark for my taste, t shouldn’t mind making love to her myself, in an honorable way.” ““Indeed! I don’t think you would succeed in any other, if you tried; and you mightn’t even in that way.” ‘ There was the suspicion of a sneer in my re- joinder, all of which he could not have heard— rhaps as well he did not—for, drowning my fast words came a clap of thunder that seemed to strike the quagmire by our side, causing it visibly to vibrate. It appeared also to open a e for the wind, which now rushing down rom the sierras to make havoc among the jointed reeds, snapping them short off, while the tougher bulrushes waved about with a swishing, as of ten thousand whips. Still these were but the first the avant couriers of the tempest—which soon after broke over us, in full battalions of eyery arm—rain, wind, thun- der and lightning, eac wcimgary | determined to outdo the others in the fury of its rage. Under the angry blast the tall e was to and fro like foam on the ocean’s waves, the waves themselves being represented by the ie goorg, ed the cinta, which rose and fell in grand but - gerous undulations. ’ “Can you go on through this?” I called out to the canoeman. : By his tardy nse, more than his words, I felt certain he could not, ‘“‘Well, s'fior; I could if the wind would onl keep still a bit, and there was a little more light, Now, as you see, it’s so dark an owl couldn’t tell land from water. In this crooked. acaloté it’s but groping at best; and I only wish we'd taken the other. ’ “But what difference could that have made?” “A great deal; the other’s both straighter | and wider. Besides, I’m better acquainted with it. Not many go this way; and for myself, I’ve only been along it two or three times, Still I could easily make it out if it wasn’t for the pitchy darkness. Maldita sea!” “‘T suppose, then, you can’t proceed further while the wind lasts?” He had ceased stroke, and let his craft go bob- bing about on the water. “The wind I wouldn’t so much mind, if there was light, which as you see, s’fior, there isn’t. If I attempt to keep on just now I might get astray—for this acaloté has no end of branches running out right and left. After taking the wrong one then—” ‘*What then?” “There would be danger.” “Danger! How?” “Ah! s’fior, you don’t know the cinta. If you’d been all your life in it as I, you would.” Crittenden laughed, I myself disposed to do the same. Danger in a swamp infested with alligators or crocodiles, we could understand. But there are none of these great reptiles in the valley of Mexico, as we well knew. Of what could the man be speaking? I put the question to him, but cannot tell whe- ther he heard it, or made reply. For the wild conflict of the elements, just then coming to its climax, drowned all sounds save their own. And now the heavens overhead were at one moment a sheet of bluish yellow, in the next, pitch black, traversed by forked lightning that shot hither and thither athwart the firmament, like javelins ag. 4 red-hot from a furnace. The rain, too, came plashing down as from spouts. Of itself it would have bilged the canoe but for our continuous bailing. ere was more likeli- hood of its careening over, as the blast struck it abeam; and to be spilled out there would be danger indeed. Though in water not much wider than an ordi drain, with what a peared a bank and land on each side, we knew it was but the treacherous quagmire, which would scarce carry a cat. There was no firm footing nearer than that we had left behind—now miles behind. So the Indian told us, with a sang ey that would have been cogs“ Atgpeypeine ad we not known the cause. e, a very beaver, could easily swim back to the chinam- pas—a feat to my brother officer and myself simply impossible, Danger indeed, as we were both now too well aware, no longer making light of the canoe- man’s fears. e had enough occupation with our own then, and for nearly an hour after, all — while in dread of the canoe being cap- 8 “ But it safely rode out the storm, which at length showed signs of abating; indeed, ceased almost as suddenly as it had risen, The wind went down, the rain stopped falling, the dark clouds forsook the firmament, showing a clear moon, whose light shimmered on the white cone of Po tepec, which, like an immense sugar- ppc outlined against the blue background of sky CHAPTER XIII. ‘*L08 BANDOLEROS!” ‘““THANK Heaven! we’ve escaped that little bit of a bother—d r, too, from what you tell me, But who’d have thought of such a thing? One’s life risked by shipwreck in a swamp—a ditch of water not six yards wide! Ha! ha! ha!” It was Crittenden who spoke and laughed; nor could I help joining him in the laugh, the whole thing seeming so ludicrous—in retrospect. For our troubles were now over, with all perils—as we supposed—and it only remained to proceed on to Isidro, and thence to the city. True, it would be broad daylight, and possibly two hours after, ere we should reach our destina- tion, But, what of that? My comrade had al- ready resigned himself to the awkwardness of being absent without leave. The delightful sen- sation of having escaped real danger made all else serene; hence our mirthful mood, It did not last for long. While we were yet in the act of congratulating ourselves, I noticed that our canoeman’s features still wore a trou- bled look. As the moon was shining full upon his face of bronzé I easily observed this. He had again got his craft in motion, and was plying his two-bladed oar; but neither vigoro' , hor with his accustomed rapidity of stroke. . In- stead, his arms moved languidly, now and then holding the paddle suspended; while his eyes seemed alternately to inte ate the water ahead, and the sedge on each side of it? “What is it, Pepito?” I asked. ‘‘ Not any new danger, I hope.” ‘‘T hope so, too, s’fior. But I have my fears.” pe ee of what? Surely the storm is over now “The storm, yes. But not what may come after.” “You don’t mean the men in the boats?” “Oh no! s’for. There’s not much fear of our —— been followed by them. They’d have enough on their hands to look after themselves, Bad as they migiat be, what [’m thinking of would be worse.’ “And what are you thinking ef?” , “ Los bandoleros J” ‘‘Robbers! Why that’s just what we weré supposing them in the boats to he!” “Ah! it isn’t that sort mean. The bando- leros I’m speaking of are not the gentlemen of the road, called salteadores. Far more danger- ous than them, for the salteadores, when they capture a poet fellow, will let them go‘again; that is if they find he hasn’t anything on him worth taking. And a rich one they’ll let off, too, most times, after stripping him. But the bandoleros of the Lakes, they that waylay us Indians who traverse the acalotés—from them escape isn’t so easy. Ah! impossible if one be beset on both sides by them. Then it’s certain death. Anda horrible death, too; for it don’t come at once, but after days of suffering, by inches! Ay Dios ! it must be torture to any one who has the ill-luck to find a bandolero both be- fore and behind. I knew one who did—a pesca- dor, belonging to our poop He was found in his periagua a complete skeleton. For the zopi- lotés had. picked all the flesh off his bones, anil very likely had begun that before the breath was out of his body. Oh, Virgen Santissima! forbid that we should have such a fate!” My comrade and I could join in the petition, without comprehending how this horrible fate aed Sa against was brought about. I had just ag mer of what the man meant, and was about to demand fuller explanation, when, all at once, he bent himself more earnestly to his paddle, saying: ‘Tf there’s a bandolero ahead, the sooner we know it the better, lest there be another behind. After such a huracana something’s sure to have gone adrift,” Seeing him so actively engaged, with his at- tention fully occupied, we forbore for the time further questioning him, and the canoe glided swiftly onward. But soon he commenced slow- ing again, as he did so, the anxious expression apOR his features becoming deeper and more xed. ‘* Madre de Dios!” he next exclaimed. ‘The acaloté grows narrower and narrower. Mira, caballeros |” . It did not need his pointing this out to us. We had already been regarding the list of water shining under the moon like a silver ribbon, anc noticed that ahead it appeared to be of less width, and further on narrowing to a point! We were in hopes it might be an ocular de- ception, caused by our viewing it from a dis- tance. But no. A few more strokes of the paddle brought us near enough to see that the’ open water ended in an acute angle, and soon * at sedge brushed our beam-ends on both sides i The canoe was pressed up between the yield- ing banks till it stuck fast. Then the Indian, standing erect in it, and looking over the tops the reeds, after an instant cried out: “Oarrai! Just asl feared. A bandolero it is, and the acaloté closed up!” We understood him now, too well. The storm had torn off a portion of the floating quagmire, which, cabal across the list o open water, had brought its re beg edges to- a uniting them as though they had never nm apart, Had Crittenden and I been by ourselves, we might have stayed longer there, to look further to see if there were no crack or cranny through which the canoe could be squeezed. Not so he who had ch of it.. Better acquainted with the nature of the change that had taken place, almost.on the instant of pronouncing the aca- loté closed, he set the blade of his paddle against the sedge, and commenced pushing the craft backward, with all the strength of his arms. Soon as getting into open water in, we were made aware of his reason for this, by hearing him say in a tone of undiminished ap rehension ; “Ipt be one of the grand bandoleros, und’s gone in behind, then only the Virgin can save us! By this we had both become anxious as he; indeed equally bag “per of danger. His wild words, with his excited air and actions, were well calculated to alarm us. But there was something besides, still further to intensify our fears; a thing of our own obser- vation. ps we repassed the place, where we had lain-to during the storm, we fancied the open water was there of less width than when we left it. , It was no fancy, as we had soon reason to know. For, continuing on in the backward di- rection, before we had gone quite three hundred yards, our eyes were greeted by a spectacle. similar to and cheerless as that they had turned away from—a long, thin strip of moonlit water, in the distance narrowing toa thread! As the bulrushes bending over once more brushed against our cheeks, the Indian cried out: ‘“* Dios Santos! the acaloté’s blocked at both ends! It’s all over with us now!” And ceasing to use his paddle, he sat still, as if either resigned to the inevitable, or paralyzed by despair! That we were in real danger now—even unto death—there was not the shadow of a doubt: though as yet neither I nor my comrade could fully realize it. Not but that the behavior of urnished us with sufficient rea- our canoeman f . ‘son, He remained seated on the thwart, though 4—»—_——
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—— both edges, but without finding any pas- sage To push it through the close-growing plants was a thing plainly impracticable. The Indian said so; but we could see it for ourselves, and did not think of making the attempt. No more thought we of abandoning the now useless craft, and taking to the cinta itself. We could not poe over it either by swimming or crawling. ‘o set foot upon it would be to break throug and go to the bottom, with little chance of com- ing up again. Never was quagmire more pro- voking; ‘too thin to bear our weight, and yet with a growth of reeds too thick for either boat or man to make way among them. Several times we rose @ Out Fost, and stand- ing tip-toe made survey on every side. Not a fleck of open water to be seen anywhere; noth- ing but reeds and rushes, silver-gray under the weird moonbeams. True, there were the moun- tains, Popocatepec and the White Sister on the east, with the dark Ajusco frowning at us from the opposite side; and we could also distinguish numerous isolated summits, standing solitary here and there. Near they looked in the moon- light, nor were they so very far off; but too far for us, as we saw them then. We could not have been much worse off cast away ona desert isle. Perhaps better, with a boat at our service, however small or frail; for with it there would still besome chance to reach land. As it was, there seemed none here, as our canoeman, a Job’s comforter, once more gettin his tongue untied, kept assuring us. Over an over again he repeated the tale of the pescador turned to a skeleton, with other hke legends of the Lakes, The man seemed to be wandering in his mind, and we took no more notice, either of himself or his narrations. Oh! it wasterribly tantalizing. Land not on- ly in sight, but the resemblance of it so close that we could touch it with our outstretched hands; grasp the things that grew on it. And br knew ourselves to be as far from the real erra firma, as though the craft which carried us, lying quiet in the now still water, were toss- ing about on the waves of mid-ocean! CHAPTER XIV. A SWEET RESPONSE. In all the record of a somewhat eventful life, I cannot remember having oe a more miserable night than this in the Laguna de Chalco. I had been lost upon the prairies of the North, half famished with hunger and almost dying of thirst; in imminent danger of having my scalp “‘raised” by red-skins; had lain all night upon the battle-field, with scarce a drop of blood in 8 body, but a wound which had depleted me, I believed to be mortal; had twice suffered shipwreck, to escape upon a raft. But to all these incidents I can look back lightly, cheerfully, compared with my remem- brance of that night of misery spent in the mid- dle of a swamp; for a most wretched one it was. True, I had a companion to share it with me, if that were any consolation; but, although imperiled as myself, I do not believe he more than half comprehended the danger. The lieutenant of dragoons was a good, jovial fel- low, but not overburdened with brains, and I could not convince him how critical our situa- tion was. To make him acquainted with the nature of the quagmire around us—what I had read and been told about it—would have been a difficult task, if not impossible. He had laughed at the canoeman’s account of it, treating the whole thing as a joke; or, at all events, an exaggeration, due to the young fellow’s fears. I knew it was not, knew t but too well; and, so enlightened, felt cor- ten nave 8 sad. Not strange, with such a ros before us—a fate possibly the same as befe the fisherman. In the midst of a dismal marsh, imprisoned as securely as within the walls of a dungeon, to pass days and nights in wearisome existence; tortured by hunger— thirst we need not fear—and then, last and worst horror of all the sop (black Mesh " seen soaring above, on owy win i necks outstretched’ and blood-stained beaks, threatening to swoop down upon us—we too weak to fight them off! : Such was the picture all that night Lager before my mental vision—not in dreams, for slept not, but in fancy, too likely to become real, There was something besides; another bane- ful thought to harass, making my cup of misery brimful. For, despite my own immediate danger, L could not help dwelling on that which might at the same moment be besetting the In- dian girl; regretting that I had parted from } | ; } a wish that more than once I gave expression to, my comrade as oft responding to it. What | a pity we did not wait their coming up, and try the effect of our six-shooters on them! The sequence could not have been more serious. As the shipwrecked sailor, who, all night clinging to spar or royal mast still above the waves, watches for the morning’s light, so watched we. To see it come at last, but along with it no sight, sound, or sign to give us hope of deliverance, Instead, something to make us more despairing. All night we had heard the cry of the quay-bird—bittern of the western world—whose shrill, lugubrious note seemed the foreteller of death. ow in the morning, with the sunrise that should have been cheerful, our ears were saluted by sounds proclaiming death | near at hand—the hoarse croak of the turkey vulture, and the shriller squeal of the harpy eagle. Birds of both these species had sighted us, with a seeming knowledge we must soon be- come their victims! Again we stood upright, and gazed over the cinta, on all sides, round and round. If weird and woe-inspiring under the moon’s light, it seemed not a whit more cheerful with the sun shining upon it. Indeed less; for now we saw more Gistinctly the vast wilderness of green stretching afar, till it met the bases of the brown rugged mountains, and could better compre- hend the hopelessness of our situation. he nearest dry land was miles distant, though had it been but a furlong, the impossibility of reach- ing it would have been the same. e had nevertheless a return of hope, which came with the daylight, as such ever does, even to those lying on a death-bed. And while it continued we were neither silent nor inactive; instead, shouting loudly, and at intervals firing shots from our pene weesals of distress, There was some chance they might be heard, but not much of their being understood. More likely would they be mistaken for a fusillade of fowlers’ guns, making havoc among the ana- tidce of the lake. However, we kept up the shooting until our last cartridge was spent, and the shouting till we were hoarse, Neither brought response. a dernier ressort we rigged up a pole, which chanced to be in the canoe, with our handkerchiefs on its top, extended upon a cross- piece we had attached to it. This done, we de- sisted from all further action—less to await the result, for we scarce looked for any, than be- cause we could do no more. In all this the Indian gave us not the slightest assistance, nor seemed to take any interest in our efforts. ee he supposed them to be idle,and with the characteristic apathy of his race, and its faith in fatalism, believed his time come. Whatever the reason, there sat he in sullen resignation, a very picture of despair, aught but a cheerful fellow-traveler on the journey of death! And on such both my comrade and I now be- lieved ourselves launched my bir peg and with- out return. For Crittenden had at ength, and long ere this, become convinced of the danger. He could not avoid it. Doomed to a certainty, if no help came from without, and we had as good as Poe up all hope of that. So we sat, by the side of death, as it were— a death painful as sure, with life-long lingering; an end horrible to think of. We did think of it, nevertheless. How could we help, since it was staring us in the face?—waiting for us! Little conversation was carried on now. All had been said that needed saying, and our thoughts were mutually understood without the necessity of exchanging speech. They were very similar, their subject being the same—the poop! fate before us. Dejected and sick at eart, we passed the long hours of that day; no living thing seen save the birds of ill-omen above, and nothing heard but their cries, alike foreboding evil. And on through the yet more irksome hours of another night; listening to the dismal ery of the great swamp owl, the venge- ful-like screech of the gruya crane, and the wailing notes of the whippowil. It needed no such concert to make us melancholy; we had cause enough without it. And yet when mornin ain broke over us, and we once more looked upon the sno summits of the two great mountains, rose-tin ed by the rays of the ascending sun, the sight so beautiful inspired us with fresh hopes; or, at least, a desire to live. Stimulated by this, we again raised our voices, exerting them to the utmost. We shouted in turns, loudly calling, and in tones of appeal not to be mi en; in the intervals listening in- tently. A caste voice at last—a shout—a responsive hail! Thank the Heaveniy and merciful Father! No pen could paint, or tongue tell, the thrill of i” that ran through us on hearing that hail. It might be likened to the cry “ Re- prieved!” sent over the heads of spectators, to the =e of a condemned man standing on the 13 The shout so sweet to our ears was repeated; for we had hailed in response. And then we heard several voices calling in chorus; one of which our canoeman recognized, For he also was now roused from his apathy, and was him- self again. : ‘*Praise to the Virgin! Glory to the good Santa Mercedes!” he exclaimed, starting up and flinging his arms excitedly around. “ You hear, caballeros? It’s the Sefior Don Tito who calls!” Don Tito it surely was—his presence there soon after explained by himself. He had not come by chance or accident, but, carrying out a purpose, in which he had now succeeded, since it was neither more nor less than tosearch for our- selves. How he should know we were lost, scarce needs to be told. Simply, by the canoe- man not returning to the chivampas in due time. The good alealde suspecting something amiss, had poy 2 own son—meanwhile returned home—to San Isidro, to inquire whether we had reached that placeinsafety. Taking the more direct route —the acaloté leading to the left—the youth ar- rived at San Isidro, to find from his father’s friend, that we had not been for the horses which were to have been furnished us. Speed- ing back to the ehinerapes with this intelligence, it was there surmised that we had met with the mischance, which had actually befallen us. The violent storm coming suddenly on just after we had started, led Don Tito to believe that we were beset by bandoleros of a different sort to those from whom we had fled. So, summonin together a score of his people, with their boats, and rene himself at their head, the worthy alcalde had set out to look for us. He knew the route we were to have taken, and found the acaloté closed up. But, by good fortune, onl for a hundred yards or so at that end; and with their broad blades, like hay-knives—used for cutting the cinta—the chinamperos soon hewed er a track for the canoe, so freeing us from our Xs The storm had done damage to the floating pn some of them having broken loose rom their moorings, and drifted out into the open water. They too had been visited by ban- doleros, real robbers of the road, as Don Tito had now no doubt they were. They had, as I supposed, made direct for the chinampa of the alealde; but to find it deserted and the choza empty. Apprehendirg their character, before they could make ay Ny at had availed himself of the means of safety hinted at, and taken to the cinta, to return home after the intruders had gone off again. This they had done, soon as the storm permitted, its violence having affected them too, Disappointed in_not finding their intended victims—my comrade and my- self, as we supposed—they had rowed away with- out committing any outrage on the water-dwel- lers. All this we learnt from Don Tito while bein released from our prison in the sedge. For we did not return with him to thechinampas. He pro- posed our doing so, offering to send us to the city in one of his boats, by the main canal— a proposal we declined for gous reasons. The bandits might still be at Tlalhuac, and our re- volvers were empty, with nothing to reload them. It was a bit of good luck, our having brought these weapons with us. The sham fish- erman had seen them upon our persons; and to that we were no doubt indebted for our lives— the dread which the revealing pistol inspires among all Mexicans, robbers no soneiat hain ing saved us from being attacked as we passed Tlalhuac. The bandits had thought better of it, and changing their plan, designed assailing us by sarprise and under the shadows of night. Don Tito, elding to our wishes, permitted us to choose the San Isidro route, and sending his son along, we had the horses as originally intended. In fine, we arrived safe at our respective quarters—I for one determined never again to trust bare so far afield, without being accom- panied by a few files of escort. CHAPTER XV. AN INVITATION FOR CHRISTMAS EVE. THERE were now three menin or about the Mexican capital, any one of whom I would have given something to set eyes on, and a good deal to get them all under my glance. need scarce say who t Aves 8 the reader will recognize them as the thief who stole Cap- tain Moreno’s watch, the boatman who betrayed us, and that elegant gentleman, ‘‘ E] Guapo.” i name them, not according to the order in which 1 was desirous of meeting them, but re- versely. As already said, seeing the first would have n of little service to me, unless some lucky chance enabled me to identify him. Be- sides, my affair with him was only.a matter of lost money, for which I had got in exchange the warm friendship of a worthy man; some compen certainly. As for the second, I should know him at sight; and was determined, if I ever had this advantage, to make him suffer for the series of tricks he had played me. I had no doubt of what his intention had been: to have me waylaid at Tlalhuac, or somewhere else upon the canal. But his motive was not so clear, Could it be that my behavior to him at the close of our first interview—that yebuke
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14 with the opprobrious epithet bestowed—had ained me his deadly hostility, and for that he 1arbored revenge? I have known cases of the kind among Mexicans of his class, who are ver Corsicans in their ideas of the vendetta. Still, : 1ch a motive was hardly sufficient to account jor so much maneuvering, with the pains it must have cost him to get me into his power. More like, the men he was acting with were robbers, himself one, who designed getting hold of my person in order to demand ransom. If so, or indeed in any case, I was not likely to see him again either; nor ever more be mysteri- ously reminded of having done him a service. Of all three I wanted most to be face to face with the Sefior Don Hilario, or anywhere with- in hailing distance of him. So long as he was at large 1 trembled for the safety of the Indian girl. For if, as Espinosa had hinted, he was chief of a robber band, he could reach her al- most anywhere. It did not escape me to think that his might be the very men whom we had seen at Tlalhuac, and who followed us to the chinampas, he leading and the other guiding them. For the two were ever associated in my thoughts, from their being near one another when I first saw them. The only reason for my not supposing them friends was their apparent disparity of rank. But as robbers that would count for nothing; and the ragged fellow might be in disguise, as the Seemed was while counter- feiting a Red Hat. That the pelado could play parts, too, I had now reason to know. Certain he was no fisherman, or he would better have known how to row a boat. And yet there were reasons against my believ- ing our intended assailants to have the Sefor Don Hilarioattheirhead. Ifso, why had he not long ere then renewed the attempt I had frus- trated by pitching him into the canal? And with almost a certainty of success? But was there such a certainty? It might be not. I recalled the confidence with which Don Tito had spoken, when telling me of his means of escape in case of any outrage being appre- hended. And he proved it well founded. Quite likely the Indian alealde, knowing the disturbed state of the country, and aware that the trea- sure that he possessed in his beautiful daughter —though he could scarce know that so well as I —had taken precautions for her safety, as his own. His not permitting the girl to go any yoore to the city was some evidence of this; and to believe it true was to me a tranquilizing thought, doing much to allay my anxiety on her account. Tt even reconciled me to not seeing her an more-alongside the Paseo de las Vigas. With tie danger that I now knew threatened her, I was better pleased to think she stayed at home, trusting that time would bring about an oppor- tunity of my meeting her again. Time did not give me this with any of the three individuals I was so desirous to see. Days passed, and though in every walk I took through the streets or on the Alameda, every ride in either of the two Paseos, or at the head of my troop, every visit I said to café, restaurant, market-place, Plaza de Toros, or theater, I had my eyes on the alert, interrogating every chink and corner, no more could T get them on any one of the trio I was so zealously searching for. Thus disappointed, 1 came at length to the conclusion, that two of them at least were no longer in the civy, and one, if not both, to be found should be looked for among the mountain spo the Pyramids of San Juan de Teoti- juacan, During all this time I was in contact, even daily communication, with him whose acquaint- ance I had made. under such singular circum- stances, Captain Moreno and I had in truth be- come friends, firmly and warmly attached,to one another, notwithstanding the gulf of national en- iwity which, as might be supposed, would have kept us apart. Scarce a day passed that we did not meet elsewhere; he either visiting me at my quarters, or I him at his rooms—furnished apartments, of a sent style to those of Colo- nel Espinosa. For Moreno belonged to the fami- lias principales—his father being a rich hacien- dado of the tierra adentro—and was but little dependent on his soldier’s pay; so little, that the withholding it had not driven him into lodgings on the entresuelo. We often again supped and dined at the Espi- vitu Santo, and most as often jested and laughed over the odd incident which had been the means ov bringing us together. Long ere this my ex- penditure on our first supper was repaid me in kind, and far more. For the young Mexican, lLesides being a man of means, was generous as vich, and would insist upon paying for every- thing. He borrowed no doubloons from me as his brother officer, Espinosa, had done, without repaying them, But I knew the tancer colonel could not help it; he being always hard up for ihe needful—bare and naked as the blade of lis lance. So he jestingly used to say of him- able Things had been going on in this way for some time, when, one morning, Moreno met me countering along the Calle de Plateros. I had lacely taken more to the “Street of the Silver- Beadle’s Dime smiths,” less frequenting the Paseo de las Vigas, for reasons easily guessed. Approaching me with a mysterious air, and manner somewhat ceremonial, he said; “ Amigo mio! Do you know that next week will commence the Pascuas de Navidad?” ‘*Of course I do, Captain Moreno, Strange if I didn’t—I, native of a country where Christ- mas is kept with all its observances. But why do you remind me of its advent?” ‘Only toask if you have any engagement for the Noche Buena?” I quite understood what he meant by the ‘Noche Buena,” that being the Spanish synonym for Christmas Eve. ‘*Tt’s on Thursday next,” he added, while I was reflecting on what reply to make, and whe- ther my engagements included the night pre- ceding Christmas. ‘‘I hope you haven’t.” No,” I said, in rejoinder; ‘‘not any for that night, I believe.” “Then may I ask you to spend it with me?” ‘*T shall do that with the greatest pleasure. But where? At your rooms, or in the Espiritu Santo?” ‘* At neither; nor anywhere in the city. I want you to go with me to the country, and en- joy a real dia de campo; see our country people and their sports—which you will wh: ret intend taking you.” ‘*‘ Nothing would more delight me.” I but spoke the truth. Though conquerors of Mexico, and holding possession of the capital, we were yet outsiders to its social life—espe- cially that more distinctly national, whose cos- tuwmbres can only be studied in the remote rural districts, where we dared not go, unless in dis- guise, to observe them. oe Pues, senor,” proceeded he, who was in the act of inviting me; ‘‘I think I can promise you an entertainment with something that may be novel to you. As you know, we Mexicans, be- ing good Catholics, don’t look upon Christmas in the same light as you hereticos of the North. That is, we don’t regard it so much as a reli- gious festival; though I gos Ss we spend it ina somewhat similar way. ith us the ** Noche Buena” is the great occasion. On that night, which includes the day as well, rich and poor do their very best to be happy, or at all events make believe it. Our ricos give grand enter- tainments—not dinners but suppers—a meal, amigo mio, I shall always regard with especial favor, since it was by a supper our friendship was cemented.” At this I interrupted him, to return the com- pliment. I could not have done less. “ And,” he continued, “the poor, however poor they may be, contrive on that occasion to make a respectable appearance—dressing in their best, and setting dishes on their tables re- gardless of expense. If they don’t taste meat throughout all the rest of the year, they must certainly have it at their noche buena supper. And to get it, they often pinch themselves for weeks before the fiesta, as well as after. But you shall see for yourself how we spend Christ- mas Eve, not among the pecter classes, but in the house of a rico, where I purpose introducing ou.” ‘‘May I ask who the gentleman is?” “Of course. It’s my uncle. He’s a hacien- dado, and the proprietor of an extensive mague- yal; which 1 only wish were mine, as it brings im in some thousands a year, with scarce any more trouble than drawing money out of a bank. His hacienda—La Soledad—is some five or six leagues from the city, by the edge of Lake Chalco, near San Isidro. I’m glad you’ve consented to go with me; and hope you'll not withdraw your consent, when I tell you the in- vitation hasn’t Gin semi with myself.” ‘“‘Ah! Have I the pleasure of knowing your uncle, then? His name?” “Don Joaquin Covarubio.” ‘‘T have heard the name.” that of one of the large landed the valley. ‘‘ButI can’t remem ing met Don Joaquin.” ‘No matter about him. It wasn’t he who has made me his deputy in this matter.” “Who, then?” ‘¢ My cousins; two rather pretty muchachitas, who are very desirous of cultivating your ac- quaintance, and of whose beauty I want to have your opinion; knowing you to be something of a connoisseur in that line.” Strange, listening to all this, though anythin but unpleasant. For I had heard a good dea of talk about the beauty of the Covarubio girls, and knew more than one of my brother officers who would have been glad of an introduction to them; gladder still to think they desired it. T had, for it was roprietors in r ever hav- Of course I felt correspondingly flattered, and said so, adding: ‘“Ag you know, Captain Moreno, I shall be only too pleased to make the acquaintance of any of your friends, whoever they may be.” “That's settled, then; and I shall call for you on Thursday morning. At what hour?” “Choose your own time; any hour after morning parade. J shall stay in quarters till fou come.” ace Bueno! Vl be with you by eleven. soon gallop down to La Soledad, in goo? time fur Ue sports, wiich begin early in the after- Library. We'll | noon. My uncle intends to have a grand gath- ering, all the country people within miles; so ou’ll have an opportunity to study the costum- res de Mewico. And,” he added, with a smile of peculiar significance, ‘‘ possibly you may there see something that will please you better than all—meet somebody you'll think even pret- tier than my pretty cousins.” ‘Who?’ I mechanically asked, with an eager- ness he could not fail to observe. He had men- tioned San Isidro. Besides, 1 well remembered what he had said about an uncle who lived by the lake; and with heart wildly heaving I awaited his answer, more than half aware what it would be. It was as [ anticipated: ‘* La Reina de los Lagos.” At which he again favored me with his pe- culiar smile. “Oh!” I said, making an effort to conceal my emotion, unsuccessful though. ‘‘ You mean the Indian girl who sells flowers in the San Domingo market?” ‘*T mean the Indian girl who sells flowers in the San Domingo market,” was the response, in provoking imitation of my pseudo -innocent tone; ‘‘ the same from whom a certain officer of Mounted Rifles has often purchased the choicest and costliest nosegays, and—”’ ‘‘Nonsense!” I blurted out, interrupting him, as I felt the red rising to my cheeks. “The same,” he went on, without heeding me, ‘‘ whose pretty floating flower-garden the said rifleman was so curious to inspect; and did inspect, though it came near costing him his life. Now, amigo mio, do you identify the in dividual?” I stammered out some reply, I scarce remem- ber what, only that it ended in a burst of laugh- ter, in which we both took part. ‘Now, Sefior Capitan,” he said, drawing our dialogue to a close, ‘‘I think I’ve secured you ad the Noche Buena; doubly secured you, have not? He had; and knew it, without my making answer. CHAPTER XVI. EN ROUTE FOR THE FIESTA, ON the Thursday morning, as appointed, Cap- tain Moreno came to my quarters, mounted and ready for the road. He found me awaiting him, with Crittenden, who was to be of the party— the young Mexican having made my friend’s acquaintance some time before, and invited him on his own account. We were both in full uniform, booted and spurred, Our late experience in ranchero dress had given us a distaste for that sort of thing; so we determined to present ourselves at La Sole- dad in a costume we were more accustomed to, if it did not better become us. Moreover, to make sure against another scare from either robbers or guerilleros, I had detached a half- dozen files of men to accompany us as escort. This I could do at discretion, without need to trouble head-quarters about such a trifle; and it had all been already arranged with him who was our host by proxy. ‘‘The more the merrier,” he said, glancing at the escort, mounted, and paraded be- fore us. ‘‘ Your soldiers—what fine - look- ing fellows they are !—will greatly add to the in- terest of the gathering. I’m sure my uncle will be only too glad to give them entertainment, while the country folks will go crazy with de- light, at this new element introduced into the arena of their sports. For I’m happy to tell you, caballero, there’s no hostility now, as there was when you first made your appearance among us. ou came as invaders and conquer- ors; which, as a matter of course, our people didn’t much like. Now, hey rather look upon ou as protectors. And with reason, consider- ing the way you’ve behaved, especially in ridding us of road gentlemen, Before your advent they mpce journeying around here rather a risky ing. This was true enough, for we had been zealous in the pursuit of these Mexican brigands, and had sueceeded in breaking up some of the bands, by the capture and execution of several of their noted leaders. Still there were others at large, and one whom I suspected of occasionally mak- ing his appearance in that part of the valley we were about to visit; so that taking an escort along with us was a precaution by no means un- necessary. Simple prudence called for it. My brother officer and I expressed our grati-, fication at hearing the Mexican so deliver him- self; and everything settled, we sprung into our saddles, gave the word “March!” and were te) Passing out through the ‘ garita” of San Laz- aro, we turned our faces eastward, along the great National Road which leads from the capi- tal to the coast at Vera Cruz. It was a lovely morning, the rule rather than the exception in this charming valley, where spring ever reigns. If there be an interregnum ‘tis when summer assumes the scepter. Around us stretched the smiling plain, most of it in meadow, with here and there a maize field, bor- dered by rows of magqueys set in quincunxes, these gigantic aloes fermine the characteristic H it ae ™ front was the great vogctation cf! | salt Lake Tezcoco, of s »elt alittle sea, reflecting,
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* as from a vast mirror laid upon its back, the mountain ranges which rose beyond. these ap- pearing part of its frame, Southward on this same cordillera of the Mexican Andes, known as the Sierra Madre, Ixticihuatl was conspicu- ous; La mujer blanca of the Spanish-speaking inhabitants—the “white woman” herself seen reclining upon her back, with knees slightly ele- vated, breasts protuberant, and head resting up- on a pillow of snow. Still further south, and on the same ridge—separated from [xticihuatl by a col—towered the loftier Popocatepec, ‘‘the mountain that smokes,”—its Aztec appellation telling it to have been an active voleano; which it still is, intermittently, Around the valle our eyes were carried from summit to summit, those behind our backs being in the western cordillera, which displays the solitary snow cone of Toluca; while on our right and left trended transverse sierras of lower elevation, though many of them high as Mont Blanc, uni- ting the two cordilleras, and so completing the periphery of this remarkable table-land. It would be difficultto imagine, much more look upon lovelier landscape than that we had before and around us; possessing every element of the beautiful and sublime, like some vast scenic pic- ture, framed in rugged rock-work. A scene, too, teeming with interest to the historian; still more to the geologist, who at every step may discover traces of earthquake and volcanic ac- tion, all the forces of upheaval with the oppo- site and less rapid processes of erosion and denu- dation. As he rides acrossit, from east to west, or makes the traverse from north to south, he will not fail to note certain isolated eminenves, less like hills than miniature mountains, rising ainernly up from the plain without any uneven- ness of ground around their bases. Some of these “‘cerros” are flat-topped, others conical with a quaint resemblance to tea-cups turned bottom upward, many having an extinct crater either in their side or summit. Even in Lake Chalco. itself, as already stated, two or three of these little voleanoes shoot up out of the swamp, their facades of dark lava and basalt in strikin contrast with the rich verdure of the surround- in f sedge. n_ several scouting expeditions made through the Mexican Valley, while.in the performance of my duty, [had ridden among and around these odd elevations, observing them with in- terested eyes. But on this particular morning I neither looked at, nor thought of them, All my thoughts were given to the sort of people I should meet at La Soledad; but more than all —I may as well confess it—to one I had met before. Would she be there? And would she be glad to see me? The former question included the latter, and I could not answer it. Moreno had said “* possibly,” without giving any reasons for his thinking it an uncertainty, and not on any account would I have asked him for them now. He seemed already to know enough, or too much, of my love affair; though how he had come by his knowledge I could not even guess. I had told no one of my inclinings in that quar- ter—not even Crittenden—and was rather con- ratulating myself on having kept them secret. s it va Spare ag Iwas mistaken, and so far as the satisfaction of secrecy went, had been but living in a fool’s paradise. If at the fiesta, how would the Queen of the Lakes comport herself? With dignity, I could tell; and of her grace there needed no guessing. I eould fancy her there, queen of the land as the lakes. It was not of this however I was think- ing, but her behavior in other respects. Was she sagt ic enact the réle of coquette, and so justify Espinosa’s insinuations? or would she 9@, aS [had hitherto seen her, the personification of ingenuousness—of inrocence—to all appear- ance good as she was beautiful? As yet I had no jealousy. The pangI had experienced, listening to the innuendoes of the would-be go-between, and the talk of the lancer colonel—borne out by appearances, was not ex- actly of that kind. Besides, it had long since passed away, and I no longer dreaded having a robber for my rival. But there might be a rival for all that—some youth I not yet seen, neither heard of. If so, I would surely see him at La Soledad—supposing her to be there. Who, and what like would he be? One of her own race? Absurd the question, as the thought! However Boks the strain of blood from Aztec kings, an eee the line of descent, there was none in the valley of Mexico —none living—fit mate for my queen. Sure was I of that. ; Who, then, might be the besieger of her heart —if such there was? If such there was! What a ridiculous condition! There could be no doubt in this regard; for such there must be— not one, but many. A more rational question was, had any of them won it? And if so, who? I could fancy her at this fiesta beset, sur- rounded by flatterers, admirers. Such a spec- tacle I should be sure to see, still supposing her there. But, how could I believe that up to that hour—she was woman grown, if not of woman’s age—she had resisted such a battery of as sault? A “racle if sho had, and the greater the tri- i iweeter to possess her! +4 mB Captain of the Rifles. CHAPTER XVII. STRANGELY INTERROGATED. Just as I had made the reflection as aboye— unspoken of course—a voice sounded in my ear, saying: “Amigo mio! What are you dreaming about? <A pretty captain of cavalry you, riding two hundred yards in rear of your troop! Where should we all be, if suddenly attacked by guerilleros, or even a partida of salteadores? My word, Capitan Maynard, I’m half ashamed of you, and disposed to think, after all, that you’re not the smart soldier, ever on his guard, I’ve heard speak of.” It was Moreno who thus ironically addressed me; his chapter of interrogatories, with the re- marks intermingled, terminating in a loud laugh. ; Some excuse had he for all this. After the first brush of conversation at our setting out came to a close, I had let drop my bridle-rein and fallen to the rear, reflecting as above de- scribed. He had been ahead, with Crittenden and the escort, and halting till I got up, was again by my side. His voice roused me from my reverie, with a quickness which, perhaps, that of no other man at the moment could have done. For among the rivals my imagination had been conjurin up he was the figure most conspicuous. Anc handsomer figure could not well be than that of Captain Rafael Moreno, with face and features to Lo the man, as any one would have imagined, to captivate her heart. He, too, hav- ing had such opportunity! It was not in the nature of things to think he could allalong have been blind totter beauty; or she to his graces, with high social position to back them. Her father might have for progenitor either prince or king; but Ais uncle was owner of the land, if such it could be called, on which this descend- ant of a royal race lived, an humble tiller of the unstable soil—a market gardener! In short, Captain Moreno would be, in the eyes of the In- dian girl, as the son of an English squire in those of his cottager’s daughter—dazzling, irre- sistible, All this had been running through my mind, and more. I had often recalled his defense of the chinampera’s character, when being aspers- ed by Colonel Espinosa, and well remembered the expression upon his features; one of “pain certainty, and likely from the same cause which affected myself. Then I thought of his words later spoken, when we met in the Calle de Plateros, and he gave me the invitation I so eagerly accepted— that little bit of badinage, at which we both laughed. Might it be that he had been only sounding me—the Queen of the Lakes more the subject of his thoughts than either of his cou- sins Covarubio? hether or not, a suspicion of this was in mine, at that very moment. Notwithstanding its innocence, I felt a little nettled by his raillery; for I could not help the belief that he divined my thoughts, or at least suspected them. And they were too serious, if not too painful, to be made sport of under these circumstances. However, it would have been ill grace in me to have shown resentment, much more expressed it, So I but made some com- monplace rejoinder, doing the best I could to laugh along with him—a sorry and rather un- successful effort. He did not seem to notice my chagrin, but proceeded in the same light, jovial strain: “By the way, caballero, you’ve not yet told me what you think of my cousins.” “Your cousins! Of whom are you speaking, Captain Moreno?” “ Why, the Sefioritas Covarubio, of course.” “What could I think of them, never having seen them?” ‘*Oh! yes you have; both seen and spoken to them. nd Ym told, though that’s only hear- say, were very much pleased with them, espe- cially Ignacia. She is rather pretty, I may ad- mit, though Tam her cousin. For all Marianita is the most admired. It may not be so much for her beauty, as from being a little bit of a coquette. But tell me frankly, caballero, which is your favorite?’ t was mystified beyond expression, and began to think the man had taken leave of his senses. ** Surely you are jesting with me, Captain Moreno? **No, indeed; I’m quite in earnest. But ne- ver mind; I won’t press the point now. When you’ve seen a little more of the young ladies, then Tl expect you to favor me with your dictum. But see! yonder’s our destination— the house with a dome and belfry, beyond the clump of sycamores. May I beg your permis- sion to ride on ahead, as avant courier, to an- nounce your coming? The La Soledad stables may need some clearing out, before they can take in the horses of your escort.” The permission was of course taken as grant- ed; and he galloped off, leaving me in a very maze of bewilderment. As we rode on, I cudgeled my brains thinking when and where I could have seen the Séfioritas Covarubio. Seen and spoken to them! More expressed a partiality for one of them Teng Never! If not making sport of . et A 15 must be mad, or, at the least, strangely mis- taken. Stay! I had met several Mexican misses with names unknown to me, on the Paseo and in the Alameda; had exchanged salutations with some, even speech, rather informally. Might the Covarubio girls have been among these? If so, the admiration story was a myth; for I could not recall having admired any of them, much less said so, Just possible—it oc- curred to me in conclusion—some other indi- vidual wearing the uniform of the Mounted Ri- fles has been making himself agreeable in that quarter, and for him, not me, was this invita- oo meant—to spend Christmas Eve at La Sole- | dad! Reflecting in this fashion, I began to fear I had ‘*put my foot in it,” or, at least, Captain Moreno had done this for me. If such a mis- take really had been made, and it looked like enough, I would cuta:sorry figure at the festivi- ties, besides causing disappointment, and pos- sibly a good deal of chagrin, either to Ignacia, or the more admired Marianita, However, the fault was not mine, nor could it be so construed. Cousin Rafael would have to bear the blame, and make such excuses as he could to the disappointed damsels. Consoling myself with this thought, and another which gave me still greater comfort, I little regretted the blunder, if such it were, that was bringing me to the house of Don Joaquin Covarubio. We were now close to it, and could see it was a massive, quadrangular structure of the Moorisian style of architecture, flat-roofed, and parapetted all around with a wide entrance in front which led toaninner court. Alongside it, and partiall detached, stood the capilia, or chapel, surmoun ed by a dome of glazed tilework; while in rear’ were the domestic offices, and still further aback a collection of ranchitas, where dwelt the peons and other employés of the establishment. From the fields around, growing magueys, many of which we had passed by in approaching the lace, it could be told that La Soledad was what Yaptain Moreno had said, a magueyal. A lar barn-like building at the back was unmistakably the tinacal, a place where, by the process of fermentation the sap of the gigantic aloe, called, tllachiqué, is converted into the national bever- age pulqué. At a glance, taking in all this, our eyes return- ed to the ground in front of the dwelling, where we saw signs of festal preparation on an ex- | tensive scale. A grand structure of the canopy | kind had been erected, its supporting posts fes- | tooned with evergreens and flowers! while around it were stalls, screened from the sun by petates, squares of palm, or bulrush matting on tripod stands, beneath which certain copper- skinned hucksters of trinkets, drinkables, and comestibles, had already laid out their lures. , It was yet too early for the sports, or the as- sembling of the people who were to take part in them; and through these temporary erections we rode on up to the house. There to see, stand- ing in the open doorway, with head courteously uncovered to receive us, a stout elderly gentle- man, whom I fancied I had seen before. I was sure of it, after glancing up to the azotea, where two pretty feminine faces appeared above t coping of the parapet, with a set of masculine features between them. ** Now, caballero!” called down Captain Mo- reno, laughing as he spoke, “‘do you still persist in saying you’ve never seen my cousins Covaru- bio? If so, let me have the pleasure of introduc- ing them. This Marianita; this Ignacia, whom —, well, I won’t say what I have heard. Dis- mount, and make your way up here!” All was explained now. It did not need climb- ing to the housetop to tell that the two pairs of dark eyes gazing down at me, were the same from which I | received glances of gratitude in the Teatro Nacional! CHAPTER XVIII. THE COVARUBIO GIRLS. From the city to La Soledad being a matter of fifteen miles, our appetites were sharp enough when we reached the hacienda. But our host had providentially thought of this, and we found an elegant spread awaiting us in the sala de comer. Among the Mexicans there is no such meal as luncheon. The day commences with desayuna, which is simply a cup of coffee, more commonly chocolate, with a sweetcake or biscuit. This taken at an early hour, for the Mexicans are early risers—most of the ladies doing devo- tions in the church, with not unfrequently a lit- tle flirtation, between six and seven; then re- turning home, and going back to their beds, where they lie till nearly eleven, ’Tis at their second uprising that the real breakfast, a/mu- erzo, is brought upon the table; this, as with the French, being a déjuner a la fourchette, with various meats and wines—in reality more din- ner than breakfast. The dinner, comida, a very elaborate affair, is late in the afternoon; but supper, cena, is not largely indulged in, save on extraordinary occasions, as was to be this of “* Noche Buena,” The luncheon set before us was indeed the breakfast, deferred till our arrival, and all the members of the family nict usat the table, The: were not numerous; only Don J ee eee)
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his two davghters, and the youth, their brother with the capellan—a priest, who administered to the spiritual wants of the magueyal, his chapel being that already spoken of as attached to the dwelling. Then there was cousin Rafael, Crittenden, and myself. It was but natural our conversation should turn upon the episode in the theater, and that this would be almost the first topic taken up. Which it was; the younger of the two girls, Marianita, beginning it. ‘* What will they do to him, sefior?”’ she said, addressing herself tome. ‘*I hope the poor fel- low won’t be too severely punished.” ‘“« Poor fellow, indeed!” cried Captain Moreno, who had overheard the question and remark, “ A strange way to speak of a man who behaved himself so badly. J hope they’ll punish him with all severity.” “Cruel!” exclaimed she whom Moreno had pronounced a little bit of a coquette. ‘‘ And, after all, what did he dg?” “Tried to kiss you, and you only,” answered the cousin, in a tone of playful sarcasm, adding: ‘1 suppose that’s why you wish his punishment to be light.” This was a home-thrust; for in point of fact it was the younger of the sisters Sullivan was doing his best to get hold of, when I entered the box. I could remember it by the other—who was much the taller—having been to all appear- ance unmolested. The rejoinder cousin Rafael received, was a crumb of biscuit flung across the table at him, with the words: “That for your impertinence, sir!” This called forth a general laugh; in which, soon regaining her temper—for her eyes had flashed angrily—the young lady herself joined. ‘“ Well,” she said, braving it out; ‘‘ you know the man was embriaguado.” “Which means, I presume, that if he hadn’t been jntoxicated, he wouldn’t have cared to kiss ou. This time Captain Moreno, for it was he again who spoke, had an orange sent full in his face, and with a force that made him wince! It was a good shot, and well deserved, as all laughingly said—all save Donia Ignacia. She instead only smiled, without speaking, and it occurred to me that she felt something more than ordinary re me for her cousin, so neatly discomfited. In this conjecture I was wide away from the mark, as I afterward came to know. What was thus taking place at the luncheon table might seem somewhat bizarre. But be it remembered, that it was Christmas Eve, when in Mexico everything is allowed—even in the best society, as this undoubtedly was. The flinging of the orange, however, while raising the merriment to its highest, brought the gay bantering to an end; Don Joaquin himself, now more seriously asking, what had been done to the officer arrested. “Nothing as yet,” Isaid in answer. “He is to be tried by court-martial, and in all likelihood will be condemned, and dismissed the service.” Though in no way connected with my story, I may be pardoned for digressing to tell what af- te®ward became of this unfortunate man. For, bad as he might be, his fate was sad and bitter—even beyond deserving. It turned out as I had predicted. He got cashiered; the commission which he had won by distinguished services, and held but a brief pe- riod, was taken from him; his shoulder-straps torn off, and himself sent adrift, to go whither- soever it might please him, but with the brand of infamy on his name. Diseraced, shunned by his old comrades—even those in the ranks, by whose side he had shoul- dered the musket—who could blame him for fleeing their presence and going over to the ene- my? Which he did, betaking himself to San Queretaro, where, as already said, the Mexicans still kept up a form of government, with the skeleton of an army. Making offer of his tar- nished sword, it was not only accepted, but him- self promoted toa far higher rank than he had held in the army he involuntarily abandoned. In short, he was made acolonel, punctum on the spot, and given the command of a regiment! But again his evil star was over him, and his good fortune, as before, of short continuance. For,soon after was signed the treaty—known as that of Guadalupe, from the town in which the commission met—restoring peace between the contending armies, and we, the invaders, evacuated the country. Scarce were we out of it, when one of its “* pe- culiar institutions” displayed itself, in the shape of a grito, or pronunciamento, as Mexican vevolutions are indifferently called. This one was got up by the famed guerrilla chief, a Span- iard and priest known as the ‘‘ Padre Jarauta,” Sullivan taking sides with him. It was against the then lawfully constituted government of the country, which was far from being firmly es- tablished. It proved strong enough, however, to withstand the attack of the partisan priest; who, defeated and taken prisoner, was, with eearee the form or ceremony of trial, purr por las armas—in plain English, shot. And slong with him retired ‘‘ertenant, hut unfortu- ately for himself, act : llivan, To return to the gay and happy circle, for the time so unceremoniously forsaken. ‘*T shall be glad to hear of the gentleman getting his deserts.” This said by Captain oreno, ‘And plenty of punishment, too,” he continued. ‘If they let him off without any, I A a have something to say to him my- self. At which implied threat, she who came so near being kissed against her will, and had so late thrown the orange at her cousin’s head, now looked apprehensively, appealingly in his face, as much as to say: ‘Oh, dear Rafael, don’t! you mustn’t think of calling him out. You must not, indeed!” So I interpreted the expression on her fea- tures, which surprised as much as it puzzled me. Had it been upon the face of her sister, I could have better understood it. But Dofia Ignacia looked calm, almost unconcerned; while the eyes of the other, after first showing anxiety, seemed to sparkle with pride, as she kept them fixed on him who was ready to dare death for her sake, I was not long at that luncheon table before discovering that the bits of biscuit and oranges flung across it were butas shafts sent from Gu. pid’s bow, when the love-god is playing the game of a It became clear to me that I had made a mistake, and what I had tak- en for hostility was but the ‘‘fond rage” oft “‘blighting the life’s bloom” of lovers. It was not likely, however, to do_ that with Captain Rafael Moreno, and Marianita Covarubio. From the glances i saw, every now and then, at the very shortest intervals, ex- changed between them, I came to the conclu- sion they would ere long stand to each other in a relationship closer than cousins. A remark he had made during our morning’s ride helped me to this: ‘‘ Marianita is the most admired.” He may have most admired her; but for myself I could not help thinking, interrogatively: ‘“ Where are his eyes?” Another thought, pleasanter and more satis- factory, came from the discovery I had made. A man cannot well be in love with two women at the same time. Vanity, or wickedness, may stir him to make such pretense. But I knew that Rafael Moreno was neither vain nor wick- ed, and this convinced me I had made still another mistake in my ae of his having an eye for the Indian girl. Need I add how much it rejoiced me to think so? Before we left the table I observed the prom- ise of another “affinity ;” at least I saw a man in the act of falling in love. Crittenden was iss smitten with the older sister; his eyes repeatedly, though stealthily, turning toward her. So much seemed he affected, as to have his wf os spoiled for the ee Scarce tasted he of the delicious dishes set before him, and I knew my brother officer was aught but an an- chorite. I was curious to discover whether his new- sprung passion was likely to be reciprocated. Quite probable that it would, if Dofia Ignacia’s affections were not pre-engaged. For I was well aware that the dark-eyed doncellas of Mexico have a partiality for ‘‘ Los Guéros ”—as men of blonde complexion are called—and the fiery face and fox-colored hair of the great dra- goon would be no bar to his finding favor in the eyes of even that stately song 2 Certainly she seemed not displeased at the glances of admiration given her, which she could not help noticing. ‘*Now, amigo mio,” said Don Rafael, drawing me aside after the ladies had left the luncheon- table. ‘‘ According to. promise, I call for your a What think you of my cousins? Are they not muy lindas?” ‘“Lindissimas! Very lovely, indeed, both of them.” ‘¢ And which do you consider the prettier?” “T know which you consider so.” ** Tonacia?” 0; the future Sefiora Moreno.” ‘‘Oh, nonsense!” he rejoined, with a laugh, looking a little sheepish. ‘‘Come along!” he added, not question me further; “let us out, and see the sports, By this they’ll be beginning.” CHAPTER XIX. A MEXICAN FETE-CHAMPETRE. In no part of the world are there more days devoted to .merry-making than in Mexico. Every week has its fiesta, either religious or simply for amusement, though in all there is much of the latter. And among the people on such occasions assembled, no country can show a finer or more varied display of dresses. When, chaperoned by Captain Moreno, I re- turned to the front of the house, the sight which met my eye was one worth looking at, and not likely to be forgotten. During the hour we had been at luncheon, the festival people had been pages A flocks; and now the green meadow in which the canopy stood, was well covered with them, standing in groups or promenading to and fro. There was the renchero in all the pride and panoply of his superb costume, tight- | fitting jaqueta, calzoneras, calzoncillos, sash of | under the petate screens, were bepraising their silk crape, botas and sombrero, the het keavuy , w hi | bardd will gow or silver bullion, the boots ! ct a4 having spurs on them with rowels inches in diameter! The arriero, too, not in his every- day wear of thick doublet and leathern apron, as when managing his mules; but in a gala suit, gaudy in hue and rich in quality as that of the ranchero, but of a quite different cut and pat- tern. Mestizoes from the towns and villages also wore the wide velveteen trowsers, buttoned along the outer seams from hip toankle; coatless and jacketless, but with finest linen shirts elabo- rately stitched about the breast—the universal se- rapé hanging folded over their left shoulders. A sprinkling of town dwellers of a lower class, and less respectable character, also formed part of the concourse—the so-called leperos and pelados distinguished by a cheaper kind of wrap worn over their shirts of coarse cotton stuff. of the gente de razon—as all Mexicans with white blood in their veins are indifferently designated—were the haciendados, or landed entry of the neighborhood, who, though of ighest rank, were the least conspicuous of any as regarded dress—most of the gentlemen ap- pearing in roundabout jackets of somber b - cloth, or frock coats of the same, and trowsers— some in the latest Paris fashion, wearing patent leather boots, and the orthodox silk “tile.” The feminine portion of the assembl did not show such a great variety of areas, Qoagh several styles were observable. And in this, as with the men, the muchachas of the middle, and even lower ranks, had the advantage of the ladies of the élite; their short-skirted, bright- banded petticoats, with the embroidered but sleeveless chemise and the stockingless ankles ending in small satin slippered feet, gave them an opportunity of displaying their charms, de- nied to the d dames, who had adopted the fashions of Europe. But even among these the hideous bonnet was nowhere to be seen. Most of them wore a silken chalé, drawn over their heads instead of resting upon their shoulders; while not a few appeared in that most becomin of costumes—the mantilla—with tortoise-she comb set high on the crown, and black lace vail drooping aback from it. None of these styles of apparel were new to me, though it was not on this account I regard- ed them with but a careless glance. For there was yet another sort of garb upon the ground, I was more desirous of observing; the badge of a different race of people—the conquered one— the gente sin razon, as the Indians are some- times contemptuously called. Nor was. there any lack of its representatives there, but hun- dreds of them, who, as a rule, kept apart from the descendants of the conquerors—whether these were of pure blood, or a blending with their own. Nothing could be simpler, or with less preten- sion to picturesqueness, than the ordinary wear of the Mexican Indian—that is, of the men— differing but little from that worn by their an- cestors when their country was called Anahuac. A coat without sleeves—the tilma—in shape a sack, with a hole in the bottom, through which the head is passéd and another on each side to let out the arms. This, with a pair of wide short-legged drawers of coarse calico, or tanned sheep-skin, a hat of straw plait upon the head, and a pair of rude sandals, guaraches, on the feet, and you have the modern Aztec Indian of the masculine gender. Nor is his mate much more elegantly attired, when in her ordinary everyday dress. A coarse woolen petticoat, the material home-spun, home- woven, and dyed at home, almost universally dark blue, with a white cotton chemise, and sometimes a gray scarf of the reboso. kind, the cheapest and commonest; these constitute the sole wardrobe of the Mexican Indian woman. If she wear head-dress at all, it will be a hat of eke f the same pattern as that worn by her usband, But, as a rule, she goes bareheaded, her long black tresses done up in two distinct plaits, hanging down her back, and never with- out a piece of bright red ribbon, twisted into their ends. To this plainness of attire, however, there are exceptions. For among the Mexican Indians there are ranks and classes, just as with the so- called superior race—a ‘nobility and gentry,” with privileges acknowJedged, and as well un- derstood by their own people, as they would be by the people of England, had they a place in the books of Sir Bernard Burke. It is amon this class, that the pretty Indian maidens, o mentioned by travelers, are to be found. And with these the costume, though still marked by simplicity, is both graceful and becoming. They have in part adopted the dress of their white sisters—chiefly those of the specialty poblana— wearing the banded petticoat and embroidered chemisette. But, in addition, 2 cloak-like gar- ment, the huipile, loosely and gracefully drap- ed, gives character to their dress; as does also a white kerchief covering the crown of the head, with ends falling down behind. And for one, who if there, would in all likeli- hood be appareled somewhat after this fashion, I was looking. A goodly number of the Indians present had come to make profit out of pleasure; and, seated byritt vorccs, proclaimmg their ality. ~ | | | a les
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But there were at the fiesta others, only as sight-seers, in their grandest gala dresses; and it was through the ranks of these my eyes went and wandered. Sout er All to no pu . e I was seeking for seemed not to be erst ’ Just as I had completed my exploration, hav- ing gone all over the ground, the sports of the day commenced. They were of the usual kind, all strictly national, and comprised ‘‘ tailing the bull,” ‘‘ running the cock,” egy Bean poe as well, with feats of equitation. me of these last were wonderful indeed, almost incredible. As for instance, the horseman, with his horse in full gallop, bending down and lifting a dollar piece from the ground; the coin to be kept as the reward of his adroitness. As [had been witness to all of them before, I cared less for looking at them now. But I con- fess to another cause then depriving them of in- terest. This carried me once more over the field, my eyes searching everywhere—more es- ae. scanning the groups of Indian girls, hough not scrutinizing their faces. There was no need to do that. Had the one I was in quest of been there, it would have been conspicuous as the moon amid stars. CHAPTER XX. THE LATEST ARRIVAL. IN my researches I was left to myself, my chaperon having forsaken me. He found metal more attractive in his cousin Marianita; and as the other affinity appeared to be progressing, I saw but little of Crittenden throughout the afternoon. So far as any flirtation, I was likely to be but a looker-on—rather an uninteresting part to play, at fiesta, or elsewhere. In short, my company seemed de trop, turn which way I would; and, as I had commenced the réle of walking gentleman, I continued it—sauntering round and round. A dull Christmas Eve it promised to be, for me at all events; and this after looking forward to something so different! Nor could I antici- pate cheer in the grand cena which was to suc- ceed. I knew that, even if ‘‘La bella” came, she would not be of the supper party: an exclu- sive affair, confined to friends of the family—a social circle, taboved to all of her class. I was still continuing my lonely perambula- tions—doing the best I could to feel an interest in the games that were going on—whena sweet, musical voice sounded in my ear, saying: “You seem strangely abstracted, Senor Capi- tan! i fear our rural pastimes are but little to your liking?” At last some one mS wee to have taken com- assion upon me; and turning, I saw it was Dona gnacia! I started, as one caught in the commission of acrie. For there was something in her speech, and its tone, which led me to suspect that she knew why I was proving so uncompanionable. She was alone, having parted from him who had been monopolizing her Mates cow f most part of the time since we left the luncheon-table. I noticed that she looked a little excited, with a flush upon her face, which rendered her beauty all the more piquant, and imposing. A beautiful woman she was—for she had passed the age of girlhood—a very type of the gracia Andalusiana—such as any painter would have been glad to get for a sitter. But for my heart being already captive to another, I would in all likelihood have hailed the encounter with delight; and perhaps have flattered myself with the thought, that it might not be altogether accidental. As it was, I only looked upon it as a little awkward, and wished she had stayed with the enamored dragoon, from whom she had, no doubt, dragged herself away for a moment, commiserating my loneli- ness, Thought is quicker than speech, and all these reflections were instantaneous, as I stammered out a response. “On the contrary, seforita, very much to my liking. They are indeed most interesting. But as I’ve seen something of the kind before, of (3) “Of course, you'd prefer seeing something else,” she said, catching up my words at the point where I had stuck. ‘‘ Or rather somebody you have seen before, and, unlike the games, greatly desire to see again. Am 1 right in my conjecture?” it confused already, I now felt doubly so— almost enough to deprive me of the power to use my tongue. This woman, almost a stranger to me, seemed to comprehend all, and why I was wandering about. She did that surely, as her next speech con- vinced me, é 3 “Never mind making answer,” she went on, without waiting for it. “ I know your secret, sefior; and it may give ie pleasure to be told there’s no need for you to fear disappointment. She will be here sooner or later. at lepera never fails to show herself, where she thinks there’s a chance of being cdmired—especially if there’s to be dancing.” Listening to these words, m rise became y surp amazement. The tone, the toss of the head, the scornful twitching of her mustached lip—for Ig- nacia Covarubio had this virile sign of Southern Spain, by many deemed beautiful—all com- Captain of the Rifles. bined to make up the measure of my astonish- ment. I had no doubt as to whom she made allusion. That was clear by what had been already said. She, so contemptuously styled ‘‘lepera,” could be no other than the Queen of the Lakes. Coincidence somewhat strange, though ever so accidental. Before I could gather myself for replying toa speech, which, while giving sur- | prise had also a little nettled me, there came a | sudden hush, succeeded by ejaculations, a man who stood near crying out: * Mira! La Reina de los Lagos !” And she it was, her brother by her side, the two just entering the inclosed ground where the — were progressing. She was in a gala dress, of the special kind worn by poblanas; the enagua of short skirt, lace-fringed around the bottom; below silk stockings and satin slippers; andabove the snow-white camisa of finest linen, sleeveless, and epanire with the same sort of fringing at the shoulders; over this a loose flow- ing robe, more characteristic of the costume of her race; the Awipile, of light colored stuff, In- dian or Chinese silk; such fabrics reaching Mexi- | co across the Pacific, through the port of Aca- pulco. Some flowers, resembling orange blos- soms—blumerias—-were tastefully arranged in her raven-black hair, which was plaited and gathered over her crown. But above the flow- ers, which were set along the side of the massive coil, was a white crape scarf, folded and lying flat—its doubled edge just flush with her fore- head—the two ends fringed with silver bullion, falling behind her back. This, with broad gold earrings, a string of coral around her neck, with charms attached, and hanging over her full round bosom, recalled the Italian contadina while her dark com lexion, and the damask red of her cheeks, added to the similitude. As she came across the smooth meadow, mak- ing approach not timidly nor yet boldly, but with that free, fearless step peculiar to the American Indian, all eyes were turned upon her. No one there could have justly questioned her claim to at least one of the titles she bore—the ‘beautiful chinampera.” For such a being, to be contemptuously styled lepera was the very perversity of speech. While mentally making these reflections— which all did not occupy over ten seconds’ time —I had almost, if not quite, forgotten the grand dame who had so spoken of her. Il-manners it was; and, turning to make apology, I discov- ered that the lady was no longer by my side! CHAPTER XXI. PLAYING SPY. DowNa Ienacta had walked off, leaving me to myself. Looking after, I saw she was on return to the party from which she had separated, and thought of following her, with the excuses that had n forming on my tongue. But before setting after, | observed something which ad- monished me that it would be only to make mat- ters worse. Though her back was toward me, I could tell by her carriage she was offended. There was something in her gait, and the style of her step, which seemed to say, ‘‘ The wretch! I could trample him under foot, and take delight in doing so.” I had “put my foot in it,” that was clear. Equally so, that it would take something more than a common apology to get me back into the ood graces of Ignacia Covarubio. I was like- Ee to be out of them for the rest of that day, if not ever after. Perhaps at any other time I might have more regretted the little contretemps, but just then it did not vastly vex me. To say truth, her fling at the Indian girl had vexed me much more; and now that she was gone I set me to thinking what could have been her motive. Among Mexicans, the term ‘‘lepera” is synony- mous with canaille ; and coming from the lips of a lady in such sneering tone, with the other speeches conjoined, it had all the more signifi- eance. If there had been jealousy in the case I could have understood it; but up to that mo- ment, with this lady I had not exchanged a dozen words. Crittenden, behaving as I was would have been more likely to give her ground for jealousy; since he had been with her most part of the afternoon, and, as I could see, as- siduous in his attentions. Why then should I be under the ban of her rebuke? “And why the In- dian girl so opprobriously spoken of? After all, it was not so incomprehensible, It could be explained by the pride of birth and blood—the sangre azul rebelling at being put in the scales, even by implication, with that of the despised race. For it now occurred to me that Moreno, who had got behind my secret some- how, must have imparted it to his cousins. Hence Dojia Ignacia’s displeasure with me—from no jealous feeling, since such could not exist, but simply that had offended, or was offend- ing against caste. I not committed an offense against good manners—for, to speak truth, I had stood too long with my back turned upon her—little should I have recked of what she or ‘ society” — think of my admiration for the Indian = It was too sincere aud strong, my heart far gone, for me to care for consequences— least of all the world’s criticisms and caprices. | would for me be shipwreck indeed. aj 4 i Indeed, just then, I did not desire the grand la- dy’s presence, and would have been only too pleased at being disembarrassed of it, had the relief been brought about in a different way. As it was, I regretted it; and likely enough would have reason to regret it still further. No use standing there to reflect onthe faus« nas I had made; nor had I the inclination. There was that near by would soon bring ob- livion of it; ay, had brought it, ere Ignacia Co- varubio was quite out of my sight. Thad conceived a purpose, which I now set about carrying out—one by no means novel, however questionable its character. For I in- tended to play spy on the chinampera! If such action were ever excusable, it should be in my case. On her I had lavished all my heart’s love —I knew that now—embarked its whole trea- sures; and were she not worthy to bear them it I must know something of the craft thus freighted— more than I knew already. A knowledge I could not otherwise gain; for of whom was I to inquire? I dare not address myself to Captain Moreno. Nor was it likely that he could tell me all that was wanted, even if Lhad. His acquaintance with the girl, as I had come to understand, was limited to what had been told him by his cousins. And here was one of these same cousins casting insinuations at her—even open reproaches! “That lepera never fails to show herself whera she thinks there’s a chance of being admired— especially where there’s dancing.” itter words they had been to me, conveying the impression of vanity and frivolity, with the suspicion of something worse. They had, in fact, brought back into my mind the torturing thoughts I experienced listening to the wicked suggestions of the pelado,and the slanderous hints of Colonel Espinosa. As yet but slight opportu- nity had been afforded me of testing the truth of one, or the other. In a way, it was offered now, and I resolved to avail myself of it. Thad no preconceived plan—not thinking of the thing till that moment. And, indeed, all I intended doing, was to watch the girl’s behavior during what was left of the day, and the hours of night that were to succeed. I began by placing myself ina sort of ambush where she was not likely tosee me. She might not know that I was there; though the presence of my men, who were mingling with the crowd, would warn her of soldiers at the fiesta, differ- ent from those she was accustomed to see on such occasions. She would recognize their uni- form, I knew; still she might not think of in- uiring who was the officer with them. The tall, douy-taced dragoon—for Crittenden stood six feet in hisstockings—was more conspicuous than I; and she would take it to be he. Still, she had seen us together on the chinampa, and might think we were both there now. Notwithstanding all this, I had got under cover, behind one of the flower-bedecked stands, where pulqué, chia water, and other light drink- ables were retailed, and commanded a view of the entire arena of the sports, with the specta- tors around. But from my point of observation [saw naught to sadden; instead, much to make me glad. It gratified me to observe, that wher- ever the chinampera went—and she walked about everywhere, all the while accompanied by her brother—she was treated with courtesy, which had all the air of respect. This, too, by people of every class and calling. The ranch- eros, and arrieros—even the ragged pelados— took off their hats to her; while the ricos, no less polite, though not any more, respectfully saluted her as she passed them—some of the young “swells,” showing themselves desirous to old further speech with her, which was grace- fully, not coquettishly, declined. But it was the people of her own race who paid her most attention; these, as she walked past them, uncovering, and saluting with a deference, humble even to subservience. They appeared to be proud of her as a representative oF their nation—subdues and long subjected—of their kings dethroned, lat still reverenced, Not one there but knew that in her veins ran the royal blood of Tenochtitlan; knew her to be a princess; and that it was but slight misnomer call her the ‘‘ Queen of the Lakes.” Need I say that I was satisfied, gratified at ob- serving all this? Something besides saw I, to make me still more glad. As she was promenading around, she came opposite a group of men who stood py one of the stalls, drinking aniseed, or it might be Catalan brandy. More likely the latter, since they wore the uniform of the U. 8. Mounted Rifles. She gave a start on seeing them; but, instead of keeping her eyes fixed upon the sol- diers, she looked round and round, as thou] searching for some one else; gazed, and gazoc —e in every direction! 3 ; ow my heart pulsed within me, keeping time to pleasure’s sweetest tune, as 1 fancied that in- quiring look was for me! CHAPTER XXII. TAKEN TO TASK. IMPRINTING his last kiss on the snowy brow of the ‘‘ White Woman,” rose-tinting it as though it blushed, the sun went down over the western
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8 Beadle’s Dime Library. Cordillera; the shadow of whose higher summits thrown afar across the valley, soon became blended into the purple of twilight. Short is the interval between day and night on this elevated table-land, allowing just time to trim lamps, and get them ready for lighting. For outdoor pastimes neither lamps nor torches need be lit there, if it be that part of the month when the moon should show herself. “Rarely is this haminary obscured by clouds, and when not, almost turns night into day. On this night, however, as there was to be | dancing under a canopy, the darkness there called for illumination, and rows of lamps, with wax candles, had been already ranged around it, to be lit as soon as required. During the short twilight there was an inter- regnum in the sports—the invited guests—the bon garter) taken inside the house for cham- pagne, and other light refreshments, while the oi pollot became distributed oe the various booths and stands to drink aniseed, Catalan, or aguardiente, For my part I would have preferred remain- ing outside, but Moreno had got hold of me, and I could not refuse following him. I was afraid he would bring me face to face with her, whose late interview with me had been so unsatisfac- tory to both of us. As it was, however, on en- tering the sala de comer, where the wines were set out, I saw only gentlemen—the ladies having retired to their dressing-rooms to do a little toilet business for the bailé. “By the way, caballero,” said he, as we stood together, hock glasses in hand, ‘‘ you and cousin Ignacia don’t seem to do much in the conversa- tion line; you leave all that to your friend, the lieutenant. Well, you must admit she’s a very beautiful creature.’ ‘*No one can help admitting that.” ‘‘The very woman, I should have thought, to captivate you. Don’t — think she has caught the dragoon?” he added, with a laugh. “Caught and secured him, I should say; for life, if she wish it so.” “Ah! I don’t think she would quite wish that. Perhaps,” he went on, regarding me with a peculiar look, ‘‘ if it were some one else she had secured, she might more readily consent to a life’s partnership with him.” “He will be a fortunate man who gets that consent from her.” “You are right there, hombre. Though she is my cousin, I can truly say I don’t know a finer woman in all Mexico—except one.” I did; although she I had in my mind was not the same he was thinking of. ‘“Who that one is,” he continued, “I needn’t make any secret, after what you must have seen to-day. I may as well make a clean breast of it, and tell you that my other cousin and I are engaged. So, hands off there, caballero!” he concluded, laughingly. “You need have no fear. After what I did see to-day, as you’ve rightly conjectured, there’s noman in Mexico—for that matter, in all the world—who would have the slightest chance with Dofia Marianita Covarubio, save Don Ra- fael Moreno.” “Bravo! Cleverly put, and thank you. But though of my two cousins I think her the hand- somer, you don’t, and | know it.” ‘**Tndeed!” “Ves; spite of what you said this day. For it don’t correspond with an opinion that I’ve heard you express before.” This was true enough, though how he had heard it I could not imagine. I remembered having said to some of my brother officers— when speaking of the affair in the theater—that of the two ladies in the box the taller one was by far the best-looking. I thought the same still. Butit would not do to tell him so; hence my having said the opposite when questioned at anearlier hour. Under the circumstances the fib was excusable. “Possibly I might,” was my answer; ‘ but, as you’re aware, | had not then a fair opportu- nity of judging between them.” “And now that you have, your opinion re- mains unchanged. Come, amigo mio; confess it!’ This was all very embarrassing, and [ would ladly have brought our dialogue to an end; t, for some reason I could not divine, he seemed desirous of continuing it. “T cannot confess anything of the kind,” I said, evasively; ‘‘it mightn’t be true if I did.” “But it might, and I trust is. My cousin Ig- nacia is very fond of being admired—her on! fault; and asshe’s the elder, and deems herself mistress of the mansion—by the way, ’twas she who authorized me to invite you—I’d like to flatter her vanity a little, by telling her she’s your preference. It’s always fun for me.” “But I thought you said the other was the coquette?” “ Ah! that was jest. If she were—well, I needn’t say. But [see you don’t care to speak your opinion of Ignacia one way or the other’; and I thin k I know the reason. I’ve seen some one, a very beautiful creature, moving about among the people, and some one else following her with his eyes all the afternoon, with eyes for nobody else. Ha! ha! ha!” “Come, Captain Moreno! I beg you'll not jest any more about that. It’s all a fancy of yours.” ‘*A fancy of yours, rather. Be it so, amigo, and have your own way. I wanted it other- wise. But I see the old proverb is against me— ‘One man may take a horse to the water, but twenty can’t make him drink.’” At that moment, to my great relief. Covarubio, the male cousin, came hastily up to say that the dancing was soon to begin, and Don Rafael, who was one of the ball stewards, was wanted in the canopy outside to direct certain preliminaries, ** You'll find me on the floor,” he said, hurry- ing away, ‘‘ where I shall be happy to introduce ou to as many partners as Ne please. Though, if I mistake not,” he added, again smiling sig- nificantly, ‘‘ you won’t care for more than one throughout all the dance. Hasta luego !” At which he rushed off, leaving me much food for reflection. CHAPTER XXIII. WALTZING WITH A SYLPH, I REMAINED but a few minutes longer in the sala de comer, only while drinking a glass of wine one of the mozas had poured out for me. During the time, however, my thoughts were busy, dwelling on the dialogue just closed. Strange it was, and I scarce knew what to think of ic. It seemed clear enough that Captain Mo- reno wished me to become one of the family; he had almost said asmuch, But why? That was the unintelligible. For, while feeling flattered by his wish, I failed to understand his mo- tive. After all, it possibly meant nothing further than simply friendship for me; this between us, as I have already said, having grown to a warmth beyond common; partly from a con- geniality in our tastes and dispositions, partly mutual esteem, and it might be something from the odd incident on whick it was first founded. Or, his whole discourse may have been meant only as a bit of banter—a sort of thing in which he frequently indulged. Whatever the object, I could not comprehend, nor did I reflect further on it then. There was something else to occupy me; and emptying my glass I hastened outside. There everything seemed different, as by the change of scene in a theater. The lamps had been lit, and the gtgat canopy was ablaze; the space underneath covered with groups of figures, moving to and fro. The dancing had not yet begun; but the beg ‘es of the harp and guitar, with the tuning of fid les, told it soon would. In fact, the floor only waited for the ladies of the élite. Presently these came, streaming out of the house in grand toilette; partners got paired; figures were formed; the music struck up; and away went every one in surrender to the de- = of Terpsichore. here is perhaps no country on earth, where class is separa from class by a slighter and less offensive barrier, than in this same Mexico. Even in the sister Republic of the United States there still lingers a certain eaxclusivism, marking many degrees in the social scale—a heritage left them by that grand dame, Mother England—which they have not got rid of after a century of democratic training! A1Jl that has been long since shaken off by the more volatile Mexicans—as by peoplein other Spanish-Ameri- can States—where you may see the cattle-herd, or muleteer, dancing with the daughter of the haciendado; the proletarian of lowest grade side by side with his employer, smoking, drinking, and if not seated at the same dinner-table, cer- tainly either seated or leaning over the same baize-covered board, where dice are being rat- tled, or cards dealt. In the cockpit, and at the monté table, all Mexicans are on an equality, as likewise in their public balls, known as fandan- goes. Forewarned of this by repeated experiences, I was not surprised to find that the crowd under the canopy was composed of people belonging to all classes, and both sexes of course. No more, whenseveral rancheros—the grandest gentlemen there if only dress were considered—approached the satin-clad and bejeweled ladies, with an air of the most perfect easiness, and begged the pleasure of having them for partners. More awkward I, when after searching around for the Indian girl—beauty like hers was not diffi- cult to find—I bowed to her, and said: ‘* Senorita, do you remember me?” Her glance gratified me, still more her speech in ee ‘* Remember you, eaballero? What a ques- tion! Ay Dios! Ido, and ever will.” ‘Tis kind of you to say so. I feel flattered that you have not forgotten me.” ““How could I, sehor? You who saved me from insult. But for you—” * Pray don’t oie speak of such a trifle. I’m only sorry it has hindered you from coming, as you used, to the city. But perhaps you don’t care?” I put the question inquisitorially, scanning her face for the answer. ‘*Tndeed I do—care very much, It’s so dull rs and lonely at home, sometimes.” young | “What! With that pretty parrot to talk to you—your namesake!” She laughed, answering: “ Lorita is but poor company.” “In that we differ. I only wish I had such company ; and could keep it all my life.” She looked in my face, half inquiringly, half in wonder. “Tf you care so much for it, sefior, you may have it. Brother will take it you, the next time he goes to market.” d ** Ah! seforita; it isn’t the parrot I was speak- ing of.” he look of wonder still lingered in her eyes, but now more interrogation, ‘* Not the parrot! hat then?” I had it on my tongue to say ‘‘Tts mistress” or ‘‘ Itsnamesake,” but forbore. Our friendship was not old enough for such familiarity as that and it might be mistaken for rudeness. Pleased was Ito think it might; but I had committed myself, and must make answer of some kind. So I stammered out: ‘Never mind, I won’t tell you now. When we meet again—but—” I paused at thought of the unlikelihood of our ever meeting again, which came like a black curtain between us, “Surely you will not always stay away from the city? “*T hope not always. I so much wish to go again, and see what I saw last time—those brave soldiers of yours, on their great big horses, wheeling and turning all together. Oh! *twas a grand, utiful sight!” “Pm glad it gratified you. I hope you'll come to witness it again—many a time.” **T should so like, if father would allow. But then, those Red Hats—” She stopped abruptly, looking out into the darkness, and I could see something like fear upon her face. “What is it?’ I asked. *€ A man, who looked so like him.” “Like whom?’ “The Red Hat; the same who chased us on the canal.” ‘“ Where did you see him?” **He was standing just there;” she pointed to one of the supporting posts of the canopy, draped with evergreens. ‘ But he’s gone away now. ‘* Had he the red band upon his hat?” “No, sefor. It was his face, I thought, I knew. As my brother told you, we’ve seen him several times, but not always dressed the same way. And now he’s in a different dress, if it be that man. But I hope it isn’t.” ** And I hope itis. Will you pardon me for marae you, a little unceremoniously ?” She looked surprised at my wishing to with- draw, but answered: “Si, sefior!” “With your permission I will seek you again, and ask you to be my partner for a dance.’ Granted; and, turning my back upon her, I walked off, It was a good half-hour before I rejoined her, all the interval occupied in threading my wa through the crowd, under the canopy and ou side it, looking on every side, gazing in the face of every man I met—all to no ego Among them I could see none resembling that of the Senor Don Hilario. Need I say I wassearching for him? She must have been mistaken. After what had happened her, it was natural she should have fears and fancies about the man. This was one of the last. So concluding, I gave up the search, and hastened {6 return to her. I had meanwhile observed that she was danc- ing, and with more than one partner. Having El Guapo in my thoughts, I did not stop to note who they were. Only once for a moment, to watch her movements, and watching to admire them; for it meant the same, There was no dancer there who in grace could compare with her. A very Bayadere seemed La bella! When I at length secured her for a waltz, I had no fear of ay partner dragging me down upon the floor. It was not the deuw temps of the eg day, with its ludicrous jumping and jiggling, but the circular of years ago, that pro- nounced by Byron as the .“‘ poetry of motion ”— at the time in. vogue in Mexico, as most other pe of the Western world. I had not gone alf round the ring with her, before discovering that I heldin my arms a very sylph; so light and agile her movements, so smooth and ser- pentine her undulations, ’twas like spinning about with Cerito or Taglioni! When the music dropped, and the waltz came to an end, she took my offered_arm, and we wandered forth into the night. I cared not for what ‘‘society,” with its tongue of slander, might say then. It was too late now for me to think of that; and I would have walked with her up and down under the glaring lights, not defiantly, but with perfect indifference as to what those looking on might think of it—even though they believed us to be betrothed. And soon after we were so. It was for this purpose we had separated from the crowd; the one telling the other, not in words, but by some mute impulse, stirring both at the same time, that we wanted to be alone, Alone stood we in the moonlight—away from
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— » 22 — = _ aS ae Captain of the Rifles. ES SS the noisy throng—beyond reach of listenin ears or spying eyes—with the chaste moon an the pure snows of Popocatepec and the White Woman as our witnesses; and there, on that Christmas Eve, exchanged sweet words, with a promise never to be broken. CHAPTER XXIV. THE CENA. It was yet but an early hour when the bailé was brought to a close. As a rule the Mexicans are not given to night carousing. From the mild nature of their climate, siempre-verano, most of their merry-making is done out of doors and by daylight, of which they have enough. This night, however, being ‘‘ Noche Buena,” the dancing ended earlier, for there was the grand supper to come, and then, at midnight, the misa det gallo, or ‘* cock’s mass,” so called from the days when clocks were unknown, and the crow- ing of Chanticleer was relied on for the hour of organ S the ceremony. Most of the outside people went home to eat the cena in their own houses, such as were of the immediate neighborhood intending to return to the midnight mass in the chapel of the haci- enda. In Mexico, where every one, women as well as men, goes on horseback, and usually at a gallop, a few miles or leagues are not consid- ered distance. Only the invited guests of the house reén- tered it for the supper—enough, however, to {ll the great dining-room, where tables were set in every available space. I did not enter with the first crush, but a few minutes after; delayed outside by a scene of ten- der parting. For Lorita and her brother were going home to their water dwelling, to return no more that night. Their way was through San Isidro, distant about half a league; thence along the acaloté, which Crittenden and I had traversed going back to the city. It was only to come to an understanding, when and where we should again meet. Then hands clasped, lips in contact, reluctant tospeak Adios—which, however, had to be spoken—and we parted; she gliding on after the brother who had gone ahead, | turning back to join the gay throng around the supper tables. A splendid ‘‘ cena” it was, with every luxury obtainable in the Valley of Mexico, where most of the delectable dishes can be had; game in rare variety, fruits alike of the tropic and tem- perate zones—fresh plucked at that—with the wines of both worlds, and crystallized snow from the near gh erie a cool them, A merry party as well; they who composed it very Take pho ple, who in another hour would be kneeling on the hard flags of a church floor, devoutly repeating paternosters! For now they had reached the climax of the day’s enjoyment, and the spirit of misrule reigned, Christmas crackers going off like pistol-shots, amid sallies of wit and peals of laughter. And yet 1, who should have been gayest of the gay; I who had just received a confes- sion—the surrender of a woman’s heart, that one I most wished to have and hold—I was not happy! There wasa weight upon my spirits, whieh neither the hilarity around, nor the wine I was drinking, could remove. Communing with myself, I tried to discover what was causing it, but failed. It had naught to do with the little unpleasantness between cay: self and the Dofia Ignacia; though on her side that still remained, as I could tell by her almost studied avoidance of me, ever since our encoun- ter in the afternoon. On mine, if was no more thought of; or, at all events, not with sufficient seriousness to account for the gloom which was now holding me in its grasp, with the tenacity of a nightmare. ( And what would account for it? For a long time I could not think, nor even form a conjec- ture; only that it seemed, in some way or oth- er, a fore ng of evil. At length, however, it began to take pare and ugly that shape was. During the hour o bliss, after that sweet waltz, I thought not of the circumstances preceding it, and what my partner had been saying, in the belief she saw the ruffian who insulted her. The whole incident was for the time quite out of my mind. But it came back into it now, with a vividness painfully clear, almost causing me to ery out. This was the dark cloud hitherto _be- low the horizon, now ominously overhead. She, my betrothed, was in danger! So believed I, too truly; for, as if to confirm me in the be- lief, at that very instant came a singular coinci- denee, As the ladies had retired to array them- selves in costumes more becoming the religious ceremony about to take place, Crittenden, hith- arto engaged elsewhere, made his way to where Isat, and took seat beside me, soon as on his chair saying: ‘““ By the way, old fellow did you see any one to-day that you reco; as an old acquaint- ance?” . : 1 was rather annoyed by the interrogatory, thinking it referred to the chinampers, and that he meant chaffing me—for which I was in no | humor just then. But, as the best way would | be to meet him in his own vein, I rejoined, with- out showing rancor: “Of course | did, And if your eyes hadn’t | been blinded by a blaze of beauty elsewhere, 4 you’d have seen that I not only met an old ac- quaintance, but danced with her.” ‘“Oh! you’re'speaking of the Indian girl.” ‘« And who are you speaking of?” I asked, the frown which his first question had brought over my face, quick passing away from it. ‘‘That scoundrelly greaser who gave us the slip—the boatman who left us boatless on the chinampa.” ‘Great heavens!” I exclaimed, with a start. “Have you seen him, Crittenden? I mean here to-day?’ ‘‘Him, or his ghost. Though if it were the ghost, it displays a better taste in dress than the embodied individual itself. The man I saw was no longer in rags, but got up regardless of ex- pense, in a suit of blue velveteen, buttoned all over, and swinging the best sort of serapé over his shoulder. For all I’m quite certain ‘twas our quondam boatman.” ‘*But why didn’t you lay hands on him? Or come and tell me? We have good reasons for arresting the rascal. For that matter, hanging or shooting him on the spot. What hindered ou?” ‘* Not the want of will, I can assure you; but the lack of opportunity. At first I couldn’t real- ize the fact of its being he; and when, after a little reflection, I felt sure of it, twas too late. I looked all over the ground, taking your ser- geant and the bugler with me, but could see nothing more of the blue velveteens. So I sup- se he must have seen that I had recognized im, and given La Soledad leg-bail.” The presentiment hitherto oppressing me was a presentiment no more. It had changed to keen, active apprehension. If,it was the pelado Crittenden saw, and he seemed quite sure of it then El Guapo must have been there also, for had long since come to the conclusion that the two scoundrels were coadjutors—both saltea- dores belonging to the same band. And where were both now? Where La Bella? Had she got safe home? A cold shiver ran through me, as in quick suc- cession I asked these questions of cae Buta second, and yet stranger, coincidence was com- ing, and near at hand. As I was telling Crit- tenden what had occurred about the other sus- picious character—whom he but knew by re- pute—a noise in the court-yard outside inter- rupted our dialogue. There were several voices speaking excitedly; then the dining-room door was pushed open, and an Indian youth rushed into the room, panting as if pursued! “The brother of La Chinampera Bella!” I heard several exclaim, as I sprung to my feet, and advanced to meet him. “What is it?” I asked. A question almost superfluous, for I anticipa- ted the answer. He gave it gaspingly ‘*My sister! She’s carried off! Dios de mi alma !” CHAPTER XXV. WHICH WAY? “Your sister carried off! By whom?” Another question equally superfluous. I could have named the men, or if not could have descri them. ** Robbers,” returned the youth; ‘‘salteadores, I know, for —_ had horses and arms. Several there were, and, Sefor Capitan,” be continued, recognizing me, ‘‘one you know yourself—the Red Hat; he that came after us on the canal!” I stayed to hear no more, but rushing out of the room, Crittenden with me, called out for the bugler, shouting at the highest pitch of my voice. Luckily he had not gone to bed, but with two or three of his comrades was hanging around the cocina, doing a little flirtation with the damsels of that quarter on their own ac- count. “«< Boots and saddles,’ bugler! Be quick!” The men looked , less from the unex- pecced order than seeing me so excited. But all rushed for the stables, he of the trumpet soon letting us hear its tone, the “ Boots and sad- dles” ringing clear around the walls of the ha- cienda. While the horses were being caparisoned, I further questioned the young Indian, drawing from him all the information he was able to give. He and his sister had passed San Isidro, and were getting into their skiff—which they had left at a landing in the acaloté beyond; he was already in, the girl just stepping over the gunwale, when two men, gliding out from among the bushes, laid hold of and dragged her back. Then, raising her in their arms, they bore her off between them. “She struggled and cried out?” ‘She struggled, sefior; but only one cry. She could not say more; the ladrones threw u« serapé over her head—that hindered her voice.” ** And what did you do?” **T shouted loud as I could, sefior. Then I sated out of the boat and ran after them. ut before I could get up they were joined by a great many others, all on horseback, and they two horses with only the saddles upon them. On one of them they ~et my sister—pobrecita ! Then he who had her in his arms mounted be- hind, and ang all galloped off.” “But how did you know one of them was the Red Hat?” 19 ‘* Because I saw his face, sefior. I was close up before they got quite away, and the moon was on it. He wasn’t either of the two that first took her off, but one of the others who met them. He was leading all, and giving direc- tions. Oh, yes! i’m sure it was he, sefor; I’ve seen him so often, and so had sister. She thought he was near her this night when they were danc- ing. She was just telling me about it as we were going back to our boat, and it made us afraid. Gone away with thatman! Av demi! What will he do to her? His distress seemed great, but it was nothing tomine. His speech was driving ‘me mad, and it relieved me to hear the tramping of hoofs on the Paxenest outside, with the clink of steel scabbards. The men of my escort were ready for the road. In a trice we were in our saddles, Crittenden of course along, and also Moreno. The Mexican officer wouid not stay behind; instead, seemed rather pleased at being called upon once more to do duty. An ardent soldier, he had felt it irk- some to have his sword so long rusting in the sheath. Something more than his sword I wanted now—his guidance; for without that our pursuit would have been but a game of blind man’s buff. : And he was just the right man in the right place. He had acquaintance with-every route and road in the valley of Mexico, and the moun- tains aie it. But, what was more to our purpose, he knew all about El Guapo, and where that gay Lothario made his home when laying the réle of robber—a knowledge he had ate gained from Colonel Espinosa. And just that fogs wanted to possess, for I had deter- mined on tracking the abductor to his den, if I should there have to lay down my life. In our saddles the question came up, ‘‘ Which way?’ of course asked of Moreno. It required him to reflect before answering it. San Isidro was near the lake’s edge; La Soledad being be- tween this and the Great National Road, by which we had traveled part way, coming to the hacienda. Espinosa said that the robber had his head-quarters somewhere near the Pyramids of San Juan de Teotihuacan. The direct route to this last place from San Isidro was by La Soledad. But there was another road which could be taken; roundabout, by reason of an isolated cerro—one of the little voleanoesspoken of—which diverted it, so increasing the distance by miles. With such spoil as he had just captured, the bandit would make back for his lair—we felt sure of that. Our uncertainty was as to which of the two roads he had taken. But we were not long in doubt. Asit chanced one of my es- cort was an old plainsman, of course a skilled tracker; and, soon as we had ridden out to the road leading past the hacienda, at some three or four hundred yards’ distance from it, I directed him to dismount, and examine the tracks. Flinging himself out of his saddle, he stooped down and commenced scrutinizing the ground. Luckily there was moonlight in his favor, which made it easier. ‘* Plenty o’ hoss-tracks hyar, capt’n; but all goin’ torst the Vera Cruz road. It’s the people as hev been to the gatherin’.” ‘*Go back a little the other way, toward the lake. See what’s there.” He did as directed, walking off a score of yards or so beyond the gate of the hacienda avenue; then bent his body, with eyes to the ground as before. ‘* Well; any gone that way?” “Yes, capt’n, adozen or tharabout; but only two as seem at all fresh. The rest must ’a’ pass- ed along afore sun-up o’ this mornin’.” ‘*Do you see any from the lake—coming this way?” “'Neery one; all hey goed torst it.” ‘* Back to your saddle!” “That’s to our advantage,” observed the Mexican officer, as we turned our horses’ heads toward the Vera Cruz road. ‘‘To make San Juan of the Pyramids, they must cross the Qv- mino Nacional, at the village of Los Reyes. We strike it at Tlapisahua, and then on to Los Reyes. We’vea good twenty minutes of time in our favor: and if we make good speed we may yet overtake and perhaps intercept therm, before—” “Forward! Full gallop!” I shouted ont, with- out waiting for him to finish; and forward went we, fast as spurs could make our horses go. The moonlight gave us every opportunity, making the white, dusty track conspicuous, so that there was no need to draw bridle for an instant. And we drew it not, till we had reached the main road for Mexico. Nor even then; for turning toward the city, we dashed through Tlapisahua at charging speed, the clatter of our hors:s’ hoofs waking up the people of the place, who had long before gone to bed. In the same way we rode through Los Reyes, but not to arouse the sleepers there. Their slumbers had been already disturbed by the trampling of a troop which had preceded us: and as we galloped between the two rows of adobé dwellings, we could here and there sce faces in the windows, with eyes looking out, half-curious, half-frightened. About a mile beyond Los Reyes—going city-
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20 ward, as we were—the road for the town of Tez- coco, which is the same for San Juan de Teoti- huacan, turns abruptly to the right, thence tending northward along the edge of the great salt lake—Tezcoco itself. We did not yet know whether the party we were in pursuit of was ahead of us or not, and were making for the junction of the two roads to get this assur- ance. But we got it before reaching that point. As we comer out of the little pueblita, the old | plainsman, who was riding by my side, a length | or two ahead of the others, looking down upon the dusty road, said quietly: ‘‘¥resh tracks hyar, capt’n. Ten or a dozen hosses hev jest been rid long this road; goin’ at a consid’rable smart pace, too.” Scarce had he finished speaking, when the truth of his words was confirmed, and by ocular evidence. As we were about rounding an angle of the road—which would bring us clear of some bushes, hitherto hindering our view—we saw a dark clump in the middle of the causeway, less than a half-mile ahead, and moving, as could be told by some metallic points that sparkled in the moonlight. ‘““The salteadores, por cierto!” muttered Mo- reno, as he ceed § up by my side. ‘‘See! they’re leaving the main road—turning off for Tezcoco.” This was true; the black mass hitherto of small dimensions, had commenced lengthening out, in echelon to the right, and kept on till .ve counted six complete files. For the robbers were marching in formation “‘ by twos.” Evidently they had not yet seen us; for they were going at a walk, as if they had no fear or thought of _ being pursued, They could not well have heard us; since for a mile or more back the causeway was thickly covered with dust, which had dead- ened the hoof-strokes of our horses. Soon as sighting them, I had drawn up, giving back the command ‘“ Halt!” in a half-whisper. I only stopped to take their measure, and de- termine the best course of action. There the were now, full before our eyes, as they ad- vanced along the right-hand road, lances at rest, the blades of which we could see gleaming and glistening. In all about a dozen of them, not so many as of ourselves. But had there been ten times the number I should have continued the pursuit, and I knew there was not a man at my back who would have failed to follow me. Our halt was but for a few seconds, the Mex- ican officer saying: ** Now’s our time to get up with them. They’re on a road where, for the next three leagues, there isn’t break or bush a rat could hide itself “Full gallop again!” I called back to the es- cort; and at that gait we again went on. CHAPTER XXVI. CONCLUDES WITH A CHRISTMAS SUPPER. WE made no attempt further to conceal our- selves from the party pursued. In the bright moonlight that was plainly impossible; and soon as we had cleared a scrub, they saw us. We could tell it by their suddenly breaking into a gallop, in a bad scare, as was evident by the tone of their ejaculations, which we could dis- tinctly hear. We stayed not to look or listen, but rode earnestly on; soon ourselves turning into the cn gg road, where we had them right in front of us. Henceforth it would be a simple question of speed between horses and horses; but I had no oubt about the result. The men of our escort were the pick of my troop, all splendidly mount- ed; and it was not the first opportunity that had fallen to us to make trial of the American horse 4 ome the Mexican mustang. We had chased both salteadores and guerilleros before, and knew that the little native steed, although ame, and bottom to the backbone, is no match in heels for his larger and longer-striding con- gener. But if not doubting our ability to over- take the horsemen pursued, I had fears of some- thing that ry ie occur when they were over- taken. I had heard of these Mexican highway- men, when brought to bay, and under the be- lief death was to be dealt out to them, refusing to surrender, dying desperately, but first killing their captives! More than once had I seen re- corded, the ease of a beautiful girl having a macheté thrust through her, just as father, brother, or lover had reached the spot, and been upon the point of effecting her rescue! What if such should be the fate of her—my betrothed? I was in a very agony of suspense—of keen apprehension. But, perhaps fortunately, I had no time to dwell upon it. ten minutes more it would all be decided, for life or for death. We could see the pursued making every effort to escape us, the pennons of their lances waving about as they struck the shafts against the sides of their horses, urging the animals on. Ours | were at their best speed, breathing hard, as they | ressed forward, tossing the foam from their ips in flakes that came clouting back in our faces. Wein the saddles silent all—not a word | now passing among us—no sound save the clat- | tering of hoofs—and the clinking of empty | scabbards—our sabers now drawn. Soon the half-mile of white track—that i co Beadle’s Dime Library. stretched between us and them, was shortened to a quarter, and rapidly getting less. Another dash would do it. ** Cut every one down who resists!” I shouted back to my men. ‘‘ But be careful you don’t harm the girl; for heaven’s sake—for mine !” I think most of them understood the nature of the Sf ee which, far as they could, I knew would insure her safety. Whether or not, they were the last words spoken till the muzzles of our horses were almost touching the tails of the rearmost mustangs. Then other words were ut- tered, but not on our side. They came from the bandits. No warlike shout, nor battle-cry to begin the conflict. Instead, the cowardly ex- | claim: ‘* Nos rendamos !” (We surrender!) Never were men more astonished than we at : hearing it, at the same time seeing the robbers, who had reined up, fling their lances down up- on the road, piteously appealing to us to spare their lives! Only two offered resistance, as we first dashed in among them; these in obedience to the order Thad given—too late to be recalled—being in- stantly sabered in their saddles, out of which they dropped dead. ortunately, the man who carried the captive was not one of them. Seeing that I command- ed, he came riding up to me—the girl on the saddle before him, with the serapé still over her head, and corded around her arms. “Senor General!” he said, “I deliver up my charge to you, and glad I am to get rid of it. Caramba! I should never have undertaken such an uncongenial duty but for our chief, who would have killed me had I disobeyed him. Hh bien!” he added, turning his eyes upon one of the two who had been sabered; ‘‘ that’s something to be thankful'for. El Guapo will give me no more of his disagreeable orders.” I heard the words, but without heeding or thinking of them; my thoughts being occupied, as my arms, in releasing the captive from her uncomfortable situation. The bandit lent his aid with every demonstration of alacrity.. When the muffling was at length removed from her head, and the moonbeams fell upon her face, I gazed at it, first anxiously, then with joy un- yeakable. Her long black hair was down, and isheveled; the face it shadowed pale; but the eyes were bright and beautiful as ever—radiant of life as of light—giving me the assurance that no harm had happened her. A wild glance, wondering and interrogative, — followed by one of recognition, and she ng herself on my breast, crying out: “Tis you, amante mio! Saved! I am saved!” “Yes, Lorita querida! And you need never more fear the man who meant youharm. He is there.” I pointed to the dead body of the bandit, lying near with face upturned to the moon’s light. handsome face it was, even with the angry scowl, which must have been on it as he breath- ed his last. She gave it but a glance, then shuddering and clinging closer to me, cried out: “Take me away! Oh, take me away!” I was leading her off the ground, when Crit- tenden and Captain Moreno came up—the latter with a peculiar expression on his face, After congratulating the chinampera on her escape, he turned to me with a laugh, saying: ‘‘Caballero! I owe you a supper for six; which debt I shall be most happy to discharge on ‘to-morrow, Christmas ni ht, at the Fonda de Espiritu Santo—if that will suit your conve- nience.” I stared at the man in astonishment, wonder- ing what in the world he could mean. Such a so at such time and place! ‘*T do not comprehend you, Captain Moreno.” * Possibly you will, after looking at this.” He stretched forth his hand, on the palm of which I saw something round, glittering in the moonlight. It wasa gold watch. “That’s the reloja,” he said, ‘Sof which by your untimely interference the pelado despoiled me. One of Losada’s best, as you see; and, as I told you, cost me twenty doubloons. So you can’t say I was exacting, when I put you to the expense of a supper for six.” ‘But how—where—when have you recovered it? ‘Ah! T’d almost forgotten that. Just now; and from the thief himself! There he lies, not likely to filch from any more fobs in this world —whatever he may do in the next. Mira!” I looked at what he was pointing to. It was the dead body of the other robber who had fallen—he too lying on his back. Soon as see- ing his face, I recognized it—as Crittenden had already done—the boatman who had betrayed us! And now, recalling his speech, about a ser- vice I had rendered worth many hundreds of dollars, and comparing this with the price of Captain Moreno’s watch, I at length understood what he meant by his mock gratitude. Foot- pad, boatman and bandit were all one and the same man! So rapid had been our pursuit of the robbers, so abrupt its termination, we were back at La in time for the midnight mass. Soleda In which I took no apt: though the lieutenant of dragoons did. Of myself, I only halted at the hacienda to pick up the brother of my betroth- ed, who had remained there in the interim. Having accompanied them to San Isidro, and seen both safe into their boat—safe enough now —I galloped back to La Soledad, arriving too late to bid ‘“‘ buenas noches ” to the ladies of the house, giea were both abed; Dofia Ignacia, if asleep, possibly dreaming about a man in blue uniform frock, with yellow facings, whose low tastes and predilections—in the matter of wo- mankind—made him in her eyes a very monster of puseny- Somewhat in fear of her frowns on the follow- ing morning, I took the precaution to avoid them by leaving La Soledad, soon as there was sunlight. Fortunately, I could plead plausible excuse for this early departure—duty. The sal- teadores we had captured, required taking on to the city, to be lodged in the Grand Jail of the Acordada. So, deputing Captain Moreno to speak my ‘‘ Adios” to bis cousins—the uncle saw me into the saddle—I was off long before the hour of almuerzo. Of course, Crittenden went with me, though not without some coaxing. He would have preferred staying to breakfast. But if on that Christmas Day we did not eat our morning meal in the company of Cap- tain Moreno, nor yet dinner, we sup with him—as he had proposed, at the Espiritu Santo. The same six as before, with a seventh, Critten- den himself, added to the party. All, it may be, even merrier than at our first meeting; I, my- self, certainly so. For, on this night over the als ged table, there was nothing said, nor insinu- a to vex or sadden me. Not even by Colo- nel Espinosa ; who, possibly, had heard from his friend Moreno, that one day I might have, for wedded wife, her he had unwittingly aspersed: THE QUEEN OF THE LAKES. THF END. ee eR A TE LO NTS EES Beadle’s Dime Library. 1 A Harp Crown. By Philip 8S. Warne.......... 2 Tue Dare-Devin. By Col. P. Ingraham...... 106. 8 Kir Carson, Jr. By Buckskin Sam.......... 10c, 4 Tue KIDNAPPER. By Philip S. Warne........ 10¢, 5 Toe Frre Frenps. By A. P. Morris, Jr....... 10e, 6 Witpcat Bos. By Edward L. 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