"The fiend!" ejaculated Pedro. "But thou hast an appetite, or thy looks
belie thee. Enter, and call for what there is. Thy credit is good.
Are there any others--civilians?"
"My gratitude, Senor," said the other, with feeling. "Yes, there are
four in the rear of the baggage, and three women with the rear guard."
"Three women!" repeated Pedro. "Native women, thou wouldst say?"
"Of our own race, Senor."
"What!" exclaimed Pedro, in amazement. "Three Spanish women? _Santo
Sacramento_! sayst thou so? What do they in this land of paynimry? Oh,
these modern women!"
"Two are wives of cavaliers. The third is alone. And, Senor"--he spoke
earnestly--"beware of this third."
"Ho!" responded Pedro, with a shrug. "I have all my feathers, _amigo_."
"Nay; but, Senor--" he was interrupted by the jubilant bray of a
pack-mule which had divined the end of the march. When he would have
continued Pedro was badgering a muleteer. The stranger entered the
_cantina_--and Fate rode down upon the unsuspecting Pedro.
The rear guard approached. Sure enough, there were three senoras, two
heavily veiled, riding mules. Pedro was bowing profoundly.
"Welcome, Senoras! Welcome to the land of gold. 'T is a Heaven's
blessing to look once more upon your kind."
They inclined their heads graciously and Pedro raised his eyes to the
third, some paces in the rear. As he bowed again he was conscious of a
buxom figure, strangely bedight in a rusty corselet and a man's sombrero
which showed marks of the hard journey, its limp rim hanging tow about a
face which he saw only partly. She was astride, he noted, with a huge
battle-axe at her saddle-bow, and a ponderous spur on a foot of goodly
size.
The lady glanced at him, gasped, reined up with vigor, and shouted in a
voice of joyful surprise, "_Pedro!_"
Pedro straightened with a jerk and staggered against the wall.
"Pedro!" she shouted again. She urged her steed across the street with
a series of jabs of her spurs, and tumbled out of the saddle, a
confusion of petticoats, arms, legs, and a flapping sombrero. Dropping
the reins, she charged the cook, who stood transfixed to the wall,
powerless.
"Pedro, as I live!" she cried, seizing his hands. "Oh, Pedro, thou
graceless, fat, one-legged darling of a cook, I was never more joyed in
my life!"
Pedro struggled in her grasp, speechless, his face reddening violently,
as she held him at arm's length, surveying him with pleasure.
"And 't is thou!" she exclaimed. "Hold, whilst I look at thee--stop
squirming, thou lubber! Yes, I'd know thee in a brigade, even did I not
see thy peg. But why dost not greet me, Pedro? Greet me, sinner! Dost
think I've journeyed a thousand leagues over sea and mountain to be
received like a cold omelet? Fie, Pedro!"
He gained his voice with an effort. "Why--my greetings, Senora Bolio!"
he panted. "What the devil--I'm glad to see thee well!--but release my
hands, prithee!--we're in the street, woman. Thou'lt stir a scandal!"
"A scandal!" returned the senora, scornfully. "Soapsuds! A scandal,
forsooth! What care I for these pagans? I'm glad to see thee."
"Of course--of course!" gasped Pedro. "But look to thy mule!--he's
wandering away, reins down. Let me go! I'll--I'll catch him."
"Let him wander, Pedro, and may the fiend ride him with hot spurs! He
hath jolted the life out of me these many days. But, art not surprised
to see me? Say!"
"Name of a martyr! Yes!" said Pedro, desperately. "But loose my hands,
I tell thee! We're observed."
"Oh, Pedro, thou 'rt so coy, thou dear old cherub!"--and she laughed
joyfully.
"Oh, coy!" groaned Pedro. "Thunder and Mars! Dost not see the town
watching us? And look at the rear guard!"
The troopers had halted, and were observing the little drama with
interest.
"Brava, Senora!" called one, encouragingly. "His timidity is that of
inexperience. Persist, and he'll succumb, my head upon it!"
The lady turned. "What now?" she demanded, indignantly, facing them
with hands upon her hips. "Who gave you command to halt? Jog on, jog
on! Circulate! Go, you singular accumulation of veal and old iron!
Wend, worry on, flit, you most unusual galaxy of junk and poultice! You
grotesque pack of----"
They tarried not to hear the completion of her period. They had
journeyed with Senora Bolio for many weeks, and had learned her powers.
When she turned to Pedro he was vanishing through the doorway, and she
followed precipitately. He backed against a table, and she dropped into
a chair facing him.
"Vagabonds!" she exclaimed, wrathfully, fanning herself with her
sombrero. "They have gone clean through my patience a hundred times
since we sailed from Panama. May the goblins gnaw their shin-bones!"
Pedro passed his sleeve across his forehead. "But they have left thee
thy gifts of speech, Senora," he ventured.
"Ah! What would I do without them--a helpless woman? Oh, me! 'T is a
sad world, Pedro.--But thou 'rt plump as a suckling porker, _chiquito_.
And this is thy place? _Cara_! What a savory smell!"
"Why, bless me!" cried Pedro, forgetting his disturbance in his
hospitality. "Thou must be hungry!"
"Hungry!" said Senora Bolio. "Boil me this hat, and I would eat it,
_amigo mio_! But first, help me off with this rusty furniture of mine.
Saints! I was never so wearied of a garment as of this iron bodice. 'T
is a man's, of course, tight where it should be full, and' full where it
should be snug. But they told me I should have to fight as often as
eat, or more, so I bought it, with the cleaver thou mayst have seen on
my saddle. And, Pedro, we must find the mule, for I would keep that
cleaver by me. No telling when I may need to use it on an Inca--thou
callest them Incas, these varlets in sleeveless pinafores?--Well, 'tis
all the same. Now, I am ready for a full trencher."
Seated before his guest while she ate with an appetite keened by hard
marches and harder fare, Pedro recovered his composure in listening to
news of the civilized world, interrupted now and again by the entrance
of patrons, each of whom started at sight of the lady, then bowed with a
curious glance at the host which made him fidget.
"Now," said the senora, finishing, "thou must find me lodgings, Pedro
dear; and before night, my mule, for I'll not sleep without that axe.
My crucifix and it have been mine only comforts since I touched this
benighted land. I'll part with neither. Canst find me a room, thinkst
thou? Ah, thou'rt a love! I could wish thou hadst two legs; but with
only one and a half thou 'rt more complete than any other man I ever
knew," and she bestowed a smile whose warmth caused him to back away
with an uneasy glance about the room. To his relief she made no further
demonstration, and shortly they sallied out in search of quarters for
her accommodation. A satisfactory lodging was found with a native
couple--and thus was Senora Margarita Bolio established in the land of
the Incas.
*CHAPTER XXII*
_*Rava in the Toils*_
Next morning early Pedro's mule, held by Pedrillo, stood at his door,
surrounded by a whispering, awe-stricken group of native urchins
lingering to see the dread beast mounted by the Viracocha of the
fabulous leg. As Pedro appeared the brute twitched an ear toward him,
opened his mouth, and drew breath in a faint, rasping, wheezy note of
salutation. Pedro was gloomy, but he paused to rub the gray nose.
"Ah, my good friend," he said, with feeling, "there is melancholy in
thine accent--belike, the echo of a melancholy in thy soul, like that in
mine. 'T is but a sorry life: we're agreed in that, and comrades in
misery. Thou, a mule, a cook's mule; I, a cook, a one-legged cook; and
a panting, surcharged, vociferous Bolio at our heels, following with the
pertinacy of doom! But if thou, too, hast doleful thoughts, forbear to
voice them, lest I be brought to tears. Now, prithee, lend me thy back.
_Adios_, Pedrillo. Remember the _frijoles_. Burn them again, scamp,
and I'll--Whoa, mule! Thou misbegotten whimsy, I thought I read sadness
in thine eye,--and 't was the devil. Be done, or I'll chew thine ear!
Farewell, Pedrillo."
Pedro was off. Half-an-hour's ride took him through the suburbs, and he
turned into the military road toward the grim fortress overlooking the
town. A short, steep climb, and he was at the gate, bantered by the
guard about the coming of Senora Bolio. Within was a citadel,
surrounded by buildings for the garrison, or the townspeople when driven
by war, and quarters for the Inca's officers. As Pedro was passing he
was hailed by the familiar pipe of Rogelio. He drew rein, not in the
best of grace, awaiting the _veedor's_ approach.
"Ah, Pedro, my good friend," said Rogelio, "I am pleased to see thee. I
had thee in mind, 't is but a moment since. I----"
"Ware the heels of the mule!" bellowed Pedro, with a violence that
startled the _veedor_ into sudden agility in a backward spring.
"My soul and body!" exclaimed Rogelio, rolling his eyes from the beast
to its rider. "No need to roar, my friend. Thine animal looketh gentle
enough."
"He hideth an abundance of wickedness under a smooth exterior--like some
of his brethren who go on two legs," remarked Pedro.
"Ah?" Rogelio eyed the cook suspiciously.
"Ah!" returned Pedro. "But, hadst aught to say, Senor _Veedor_?"
"Why, I have, good Pedro," said Rogelio, recovering. "In a few
days--perhaps a fortnight, perhaps very soon--I expect--that is to say,
I--he, he, Pedro!--'tis a delicate subject--but--well, I may need a
woman servant. Just a common servant, Pedro."
"Ah!" said the cook. "Just a common servant! So! 'T is a common need,
_Veedor_, shared by common and uncommon. I thank thee for thy
confidence, Senor. I'll betray it to no man." And apparently
considering the interview closed, Pedro gathered his reins to go.
"Wait!" shouted the _veedor_. "Blockhead, that is not all!"
"Not all, Senor! Thou hast need of two?"
The _veedor_ piped a curse, then controlled himself and went on with a
smile of forced amiability. "I mean it is not all I have to say, Pedro.
In a few days--or less--I hope to share thy happiness."
"My happiness!" exclaimed Pedro, mystified. "Oh, I see! The Senor is
going to turn cook."
"Damnation!" squeaked the _veedor_; then stifling his rage, he
continued: "No, no! Not that. By thy happiness I mean thine
_inamorada_, the Senora Bolio----"
"Oh, blessed saints!" interrupted Pedro. "Thou wouldst share my
happiness in the Senora? Take it all, Senor! Take the whole of her.
By heaven, I'll send her up entire! Wait but an hour." He started to
turn his mule.
"Stop, fool!" choked the exasperated _veedor_; and grasping at a rein,
narrowly escaped a kick. He sprang out of range with a gasp.
"Well," said Pedro, complacently, "I gave thee warning, Senor. But hast
more to say?"
It was a minute before Rogelio regained his speech. "Yes!" he shrilled.
"Perdition! Yes! If thou wilt but hold thy tongue!"
"_Bueno_! I listen. Proceed, Senor _Veedor_."
Rogelio drew near again and said, with difficulty, forcing a grin: "Now,
in the devil's name, give heed; and forbear to fly off the bowstring
until I have finished! What I've tried to get into thy pate is this. In
a few days I shall have a guest, Pedro." He looked cautiously about and
whispered, "A maiden, my friend--the fairest heathen in the land. I'll
not say her name--he, he!--that shall be a secret. But, I would have a
woman servant--one worthy of dependence, dost mark? Canst find me one?
Thou 'rt known to the townsfolk, and I am not. What sayst? There will
be some moderate compensation for thy time and trouble,
Pedro,--moderate, mind thee, for I am a poor man; though," he looked
about again, "I'll tell thee this, once I have her safe, there will be
treasure untold at my command--Ah! Hum!--That is, Pedro, a fair
sum--rather small, in fact--little more than enough for my requirements,
for I have a fam----" He stopped short, snuffled, and went on hastily,
"I'll pay thee, Pedro. Wilt find me a servant?"
Pedro concealed both his contempt and his suddenly roused interest, and
after brief scrutiny of the tallowy face and protuberant eyes, looked
away. "Why," he drawled, "for the time it hath taken thee to get it
out, 't is a simple matter. Doubtless I can find a woman. I'll look
about."
"Do so, my worthy friend," said Rogelio, rubbing his hands. "It will be
worth thy while."
"No doubt," answered Pedro. "_Adios_, Senor." He rode away.
"Dolt, lunk-head, clod-pate!" muttered Rogelio, looking viciously after
him.
"Oily scoundrel!" muttered Pedro. "Slimy dastard." Then he chuckled.
"Oh, give me but an hour, and I could work him into a fit! His rage
striketh at his vitals. But, let us see! A maiden, the fairest in the
land, and treasure untold! God's love! Can it be she?" He reined up,
the better to think, and sat in study, his geniality of countenance
giving place to grave concern. Shortly he rode on, still pondering.
Pedro's mission to the fortress was to see the sick armorer and warn him
against Fray Mauricio, with the advice that Jose go straightway to
Cuzco, where Pizarro would hold him safe. The Morisco was so ill,
however, that he said nothing of his errand, and after an hour at the
bedside, took his departure.
Pedro rode back much occupied with uneasy thoughts of Cristoval and
Rava. He had heard nothing of their fate, and it was generally believed
that they had perished in the mountains. After De Valera had been found
in the canyon by his companions even the Canares had lost the scent.
Still Pedro hoped, and better, prayed with right good-will. Now he
determined to watch for Rogelio's expected guest, his suspicion
thoroughly roused by the morning's conversation.
Two days later he was again riding toward the fortress. On this
occasion, however, he went beyond, making inquiries for the _huasi_ of
one Municancha, master-mason. Rewarded at length, he was received with
distinction by the dignified Indio and his interesting family, to whom
he made himself so agreeable that he was pressed to come again, the
small children chasing the dust of his mule for many yards, with shrill
farewell and reiterated invitation.
Pedro rode back in an enviable frame of mind. It was dark when he
passed the road to the fortress, and he had gone a little beyond when
his mule stopped with a suddenness that sent his hand smartly to his
sword-hilt. He distinguished a shadowy group of figures ahead, and
hearing a word in Spanish, he prodded his animal with his single spur
and rode forward. The strangers had drawn off to let him pass. As he
neared them Pedro hailed:--
"Hob, _compadres_! A good-night to you."
"Oh, 't is Pedro!" he heard one say in relief, then the ring of ordered
pikes, and, "Good-night, Pedro!" briefly.
"What cheer, friends?" asked the cook, drawing rein; but they moved on
without response. He grunted at their discourtesy and went his way,
failing to observe in the darkness that two of the number bore a
_hamaca_.
The party halted near the fortress gate. Duero was challenged by the
sentinel, seating himself wearily while the soldier drawled his call for
the sergeant. The officer appeared, a parley followed, and the gate
swung open.
"Well, and what fortune, _amigo_?" asked the old sergeant, surveying
Duero as he stood scowling in the lantern light. "Why, man, thou'rt
haggard!"
The other replied with an oath: "Not the worst fortune, but so near the
worst that, curse me, 't would be no easy choice between them. Dost
pass my party?"
"Pass them," said the sergeant, and Duero called to his companions;
then, not wishing to be interrogated, gave the officer good-night. The
sergeant watched the _hamaca_ past the gate, and with a grimace to his
sentinel, retired to the guard-room. Since the death of Atahualpa he
had seen the like more than once.
Inside the gate Duero dismissed his remnant of the Canares. Taking up
the silent and closely curtained _hamaca_, the Spaniards were presently
pounding at the _veedor's_ door. An Indio servant opened to them, and
the litter was carried into the court. Apprised of its arrival, Rogelio
hurried out.
Duero ignored his greeting and demanded bluntly: "Where is the cage,
Senor _Veedor_? Here is the bird."
"Oh, my stars!" snuffled Rogelio, rubbing his hands and sidling round
the _hamaca_. "Is she there, indeed?--and in good condition, Duero?
Remember, that was part of the stipulation--that she should be unharmed,
and in good condition."
"As to being unharmed, I'll answer for it," replied the soldier. "As
for her condition, you can figure for yourself what it is like to be
after such a journey. Where will you have her put? Come! We're
weary."
"This way," said Rogelio, in a fluster. "The room is all prepared--a
bower, Duero, a very bower! He, he! Wait! I'll fetch a lamp." He
scuttled away, reappeared with a light, and led the way to a door
opening upon the patio. It was fastened with a heavy padlock. Fumbling
for a second, he threw open the door. The _hamaca_ was carried in, the
door closed, and while Rogelio edged round eagerly with the lamp,
striving for a glimpse, Duero threw back the curtains and lifted Rava,
almost lifeless, from the litter. She moaned as he bore her to the
couch, and he hastened to remove the bonds and gag she had worn since
nearing Xauxa. She gave no other evidence of animation.
"Here--the light!" commanded Duero, gruffly, and took it without
ceremony from the _veedor's_ hand, bending over the girl in scrutiny.
Rogelio hovered about, twisting his fat fingers, and straining to have a
look at the pale, drawn face almost hidden by her disordered tresses.
It was a face to move the compassion of a savage. The rough soldier
felt its pathos, for he straightened up and said brusquely:--
"She needeth looking after, 't is a certainty. Fetch a woman at once,
Senor _Veedor_."
"A woman!" piped Rogelio. "Why, there's no woman about. I have spoken
for one, and may have her to-morrow."
"No woman about!" exclaimed Duero, turning upon him sternly. "Do you
say there is none to give this girl the care she needeth?"
"To-morrow--" began the _veedor_ weakly.
"To-morrow!--To-night! This night, _Veedor_, or she goeth to Xauxa."
Duero's black eyes travelled over Rogelio with an expression the latter
did not care to meet.
"To-night! Impossible, Duero!" he whined. "There is not a woman in the
fortress save two just come from San Miguel, and they--" He shook his
head.
"Then, Senor, you will fetch one from Xauxa," said Duero, with
determination.
"Curse me if I will!" retorted the _veedor_, angrily. "And look thou,
Duero: this is mine affair. Thy part in it is done. Thou'lt refrain
from meddling."
Duero motioned his companions forward, and stepped to raise the Nusta.
At the move Rogelio forgot himself and sprang forward with a snarl and
curse to interpose, but recollected himself at once when Duero, dagger
half-drawn, thrust an elbow beneath his chin and met his eyes with a
scowl so malevolent that he caught breath with a sudden weakening of his
knees. As the _veedor_ retreated with a gasp Duero followed him
steadily with his glare, then turned again with deliberation to the
couch. The _veedor_ raised a shaking hand to his throat as if he
expected to find it already cut, and quavered:--
"My--my soul--and body, Duero! Thou'rt sudden! Wait! I--fiends and
goblins!--I'll go if it will please thee."
"It will," said Duero, briefly. "See that you do. We will tarry until
your return. But first, a small cup of _chicha_. We must warm her
blood, or your woman will find a corpse. Do you hear, _Veedor_? A cup
of _chicha_!"
The _veedor_ started painfully and waddled away. He was back in a
moment with the liquor. The soldier forced a few drops between the
pallid lips of the Nusta, and vigorously chafed her hands and arms. A
fierce, unprincipled rascal in most respects, he was endowed with a
rough warmth of heart to which the helpless state of his captive made
silent appeal. He worked with what gentleness was in him, and when at
last Rava opened her pathetic eyes he motioned his companions out of the
room with the _hamaca_. Rogelio lingered near, but a gesture from Duero
and the menace in his eyes sent him back into the shadow, whispering a
futile anathema. When the unhappy girl revived somewhat the soldier
drew a robe over her, and leaving her sobbing desolately among the
pillows, gripped Rogelio's arm and led him out. He locked the door, and
to the _veedor's_ astonishment and rage, pocketed the key. The other
commenced a shrill expostulation, but the burly Duero merely hunched a
shoulder at him with chin thrust out and a sidelong glance of quiet
viciousness that stopped his railing abruptly. Rogelio led the way to
his room with no further word, followed by his four sullen hirelings.
They ranged themselves round his table in silence. The _veedor_ stood
glancing uneasily from one scowl to another, then piped in irritation:
"Well, gentlemen, your task is finished, isn't it? Come now, my good
friends, the hour groweth late. Return in the morning, and I'll give
you your hire."
Duero stepped forward, planting a powerful fist upon the table and
hitching at his belt: "Senor _Veedor_, we'll have our hire now! Then,
when you have brought some one to look after the senorita, our business
is done. In the meantime, with your leave--or without it--we wait here.
She must be cared for before morning. But now, our gold."
Rogelio blinked about the circle, snuffled, and went out. Having closed
the door, his rage overflowed in a series of frenzied gesticulations in
the direction of Duero, accompanied by suppressed grunts and squeaks,
until he was swollen in feature and quite breathless. He returned with
a bag and pair of balances. They looked on with vigilance while he
weighed out the gold, the lamp illuminating swarthy faces full of
eagerness--except that of Duero, which was only watchful and grim.
"There!" snapped the employer. "Two thousand _castellanos_. Take it."
Duero extended an arm to withhold the others and said, coolly, "Double
it!"
The _veedor_ staggered back with the bag clasped in his arms.
"Wha--what?" he gasped.
"I say, double it!" replied Duero, with force.
Rogelio stared at him with fallen chin.
"Double it!" repeated the soldier, and returned the stare fixedly.
"Fiends!" shrieked the _veedor_. "Man, thou 'rt mad! What was our
bargain?"
"That acquitteth the bargain, Senor, but there are damages."
"Damages! What damages?"
"Why, to our several consciences, _Veedor_. Mine, I'll swear, hath
stood a wear and tear that hath left not remnants enough to equip a dog!
'T is a most villanous piece of villany, and promiseth to grow worse
when our hands are out of it. By the crucifix! Senor Rogelio, my soul
will need masses for this affair, and I mean to provide for them. You
will make it double, or the girl goeth to Xauxa this night; and I'll
have the Senor Inca notified--or mayhap, Mendoza."
"Scoundrels, bandits, thieves!" screamed Rogelio, his face purple and
hands shaking. Duero took a step toward him with a movement to his
sword-hilt, and the victim retreated to the wall, hugging his gold and
rolling his eyes in terror. The soldier surveyed him with contempt.
"Well," he demanded, "what do you say? Must we lug her back to Xauxa?
Answer, and quickly, for I sicken."
"Oh, gentlemen!" wailed Rogelio, "be honest. Be just. Be considerate
of a poor man."
Duero broke in with imitation of his whine: "Oh, be open-handed. Be
charitable. Be virtuous. Faugh! You offend my bile. Come. Yes, or
no! Do you double it? 'T is indifferent to us, for the Inca, or
Mendoza, will know how to reward. But answer!"
Rogelio rolled his eyes to heaven, then lagged forward to the table and
took up the scales. "Oh, my good men, 't is--"
"Cease!" commanded Duero. "We are no good men. Had we been, you had
not approached us. Weigh out, and be done."
The _veedor_ heaved a long, shuddering sigh, and weighed the gold.
"Now," said Duero, "to your horse, and to Xauxa."
"Oh, curses!" protested the _veedor_. "Art not finished? I've paid
thee twice!"
"Go!" shouted Duero, stamping his foot. "Order your horse. I'll see
you to the gates."
Rogelio went out with a groan. In half an hour he was riding down the
hill, panting an imprecation at every step. Duero returned from the
gate whither he had escorted him, and calling the servant, ordered the
best the _veedor's_ larder afforded. Then the villains held carnival.
*CHAPTER XXIII*
_*Rogelio Finds Gall and Wormwood*_
Pedro was extinguishing the lights of his _cantina_ when he heard the
clatter of a horse's hoofs. They stopped at his door, and Rogelio
entered, perspiring, breathless, and in violent perturbation.
"Ho, Senor _Veedor_, thou dost ride late!" exclaimed Pedro, in surprise.
"There is something amiss?"
Rogelio sank upon the nearest stool, panting and wiping away
perspiration, on the verge of apoplexy from exertion and rage combined.
The danger of it seemed to strike Pedro at once. He hurried forward and
commenced fanning the official vigorously with his apron.
"Steady, steady, Senor!" he urged, soothingly. "Do not try to talk.
Take time and spare thy wind. Thou 'rt gasping like a ducked hen.--Nay,
nay! Do not swear. Be tranquil. Calm thyself. Count ten, Senor--now
do! Believe me, naught doth so soothe a fit of ferment. But--swearing
again! Gently, gently, or thou'lt melt in thine own heat! Gods, man!
Cease rolling thine eyes. Hast a cramp under thy belt? Let me thump
thy back.--Ah!"
Pedro pummelled the agitated _veedor_ between the shoulders with hearty
vigor, and succeeded thereby in expelling what little breath he had
remaining, rendering him still more helpless from exasperation. He
saved himself by bolting from his seat and backing against the wall,
where he stood waving his arms in speechlessness to keep the zealous
cook away.
"Name of a saint, my friend!" said Pedro, with great concern, after
Rogelio began to breathe more freely, "I never saw an over-gorged pup
nearer a fit than thou. What hath gone wrong?"
"She--hath arrived!" gasped the _veedor_ at length.
"Oh! She hath arrived, hath she? Well, she must be a very tarantula to
work thee a spell like that, Senor! By the gods, even Bolio's coming
could not give me such a bedevilment of jerks and palpitations!"
The _veedor_ was rendered speechless again. Pedro eyed him with great
commiseration until he showed signs of recovery, then threw him into
another spasm by inquiring with solicitude,
"Doth the lady pursue, Senor? If so, we will barricade the door."
Rogelio held up his hands, violently shaking his head. "No, no!" he
managed to say. "Damned--numskull! Let me--talk."
"Why, talk, to be sure! 'T is what I've waited for,--to hear thee talk.
What the devil dost think? that I've been standing here this while to
see thee contort and strangle? I had liefer watch a pig in the colic.
Proceed, _Veedor_, and talk. It may ease thy mind. _Sensa animi tui
libere profare_--Latin, Senor, and it meaneth, speak freely. Prithee,
begin. I listen."
The _veedor_ had collapsed into a chair, choking with rage. He sprang
up, shaking both fists at the cook, and started toward the door; turned
back, and waving his arms for silence, howled:
"Accursed--rattle-teeth!--hear me!--I seek a servant!"
"Thou seekest a servant!" responded Pedro, with composure. "Well, by
heaven, I could guess it! And thou needest, not one, but a dozen, I
should say; and a strait-jacket withal. But, _infierno_! is the quest
of a servant so delirious a pursuit?--Now, do be calm, Senor! Hold a
minute, and I'll bleed thee. No? But 't would be wise, my friend, for
if thou 'rt not on the edge of the staggers, then I never gave physic to
a horse.--And now thou'rt swearing again! Fie, _Veedor_! Here! Let me
get thee a wet rag."
Pedro hurried away. When he returned the _veedor_ had regained his
utterance, and waving aside the proffered application, he shouted:--
"Keep off, thou babbling moon-calf! Wilt hear me? I need a servant--at
once! A servant--dost hear? A servant--and may the fiend claw thy
vitals! Canst get me one--to-night? I'll pay thee well."
"Well, stew me! if the need of a servant wrought me to such a state of
mind, I'd----" Pedro seated himself. "But 't is late, _Veedor_. Thy
guest hath come, sayst thou?"
"Yes, yes! She is sick from weariness, and needeth a woman. Wilt find
me one?"
Pedro became serious at once. "Sick! Then 't is pressing. Let me
think. There is Senora Bolio, for a possibility. She might consent to
go, but she knoweth no Quichua. That, however, might be an advantage,
not so? Less apt to connive at escape." Pedro eyed the _veedor_
watchfully.
"Yes! _Diablo_, yes!" said Rogelio, eagerly. "Canst persuade her?"
"I'll try," said Pedro, rising. He threw off his apron and started
toward the door; halted, and came back, determined to test his
suspicion. "Senor," he said, abruptly, "how did they get her away from
Peralta? Did they kill him? If not, then I swear to thee, _Veedor_,
thou 'rt as good as dead!" and Pedro slowly shook his head in direst
portent.
The _veedor_ was unguarded. He started violently, and his face went
ashy. "Oh, my soul and body! I--I forgot to ask them." He scanned the
cook with quick suspicion. "How in the devil's name dost know?" he
demanded. Pedro placed a finger beside his nose, wagged his head with
deep significance, and went out. Now it was his turn to be agitated.
He pegged straight to the senora's lodging, and pounded upon the door
until it opened. "Quick!" he cried. "The Viracocha woman! There is
sickness."
The native made him repeat it, refastened the door, and left Pedro in a
fume. When she opened again, it was with a request to follow, and led
him across the court. The senora appeared at a door with an
under-garment over her shoulders. "Is it thou, Pedro?" she asked,
sleepily. "What is to do? This is an unholy hour to wake a body, dost
not know it?"
Pedro pushed the door open, and entered. "'T is a crying need," he
said, and hastily explained.
"Who is this girl?" demanded the senora, with a pang of jealousy.
"Peralta's enamorada," replied the cook, thinking he lied, but venturing
it to quiet her suspicion.
"And who this Rogelio?" asked the senora.
"A toad!" answered Pedro. "Wilt go? I will ride with thee to the
fortress."
The senora was retying the fagged end of her braid.
"A favor to me, _carita_," urged Pedro.
"I will go," said Senora Bolio.
"Then come to the _cantina_ as soon as thou 'rt clad. I will have thy
mule," and he hastened away. By the time the animals were saddled the
lady arrived, her battle-axe beneath her arm, wrapped in a bundle of
apparel. Pedro strapped it to her saddle, and summoning the fevered
_veedor_, assisted the senora to mount. As they rode out on the quiet
road, Rogelio leading, the cook gave further history of the Nusta,
together with certain sidelights on the _veedor_. They reached the
fortress, and having seen the two through the gate, Pedro returned,
relieved for Rava, but sadly disturbed by thoughts of Cristoval.
The senora followed her conductor to his door. As he dismounted a sound
of revelry stole out upon the night, and the _veedor_ dashed in. The
neglected lady sniffed after him scornfully, swung herself out of the
saddle, unstrapped her belongings, led her mule into the patio, and
followed the _veedor_ to a half-open door. The unfortunate Rogelio was
doomed to further bitterness. The room was lighted by all the lamps of
the establishment. Duero and his companions were seated round a
well-laden board, a bowl of steaming punch in the midst, and had arrived
at the jovial stage. As Rogelio entered and stood blinking at the
brilliancy, his fat chin wagging with renewed rage at their effrontery,
they surveyed him a moment, and burst into a shout of laughter. Duero
raised his cup.
"Hail, good host, liberal entertainer, most hospitable mate!" roared he.
"Thou 'rt welcome. Enter! Come, leave diffidence outside. Thou 'rt
not intruding--now is he, _camaradas_? No! Sit and make free. What is
ours is thine--not so, _camaradas_? _Segaramente_! _Hola_!" He sprang
to his feet as the senora appeared at the door. "Blessed angels of
Heaven, what do I see? The Senora Bolio!" He advanced with a profound
bow. "Welcome, Senora, most welcome! Upon my heart, 'tis like the
sight of a nosegay from Old Castile! Ho, _companeros_!--your courtesies
to _Senora la Conquistadora_!" He bowed again, answered by the lady
with a glare of cold disdain.
"Miscreants, knaves, cutthroats!" shrieked Rogelio. "You shall pay dear
for this night!"
Duero surveyed him darkly, hunched his shoulder, and thrust out his
chin, and the _veedor_ sank into a chair. The soldier eyed him for a
moment, and turned to the lady. "Senora, I surmise thou hast come to
care for the girl. She needeth it, God knoweth, and the less time lost
the better. Come. I have the key."
Rogelio sprang up to follow, but once more the hunch of shoulder, the
thrust of chin, and the scowling look askance, and he sat. Duero winked
at the senora as he turned to lead the way, and ignoring her snort of
resentment of the liberty, went out. She followed, and halting at the
Nusta's door, he said, as he unfastened, "Pedro hath told thee of this
Rogelio?"
"Briefly, that he is a toad," responded the senora.
"Brief, but most precise! Pedro hath a good head. Now, Senora, I'll
leave thee to enter, and the door unlocked. If thou hast need of aught,
thou'lt find us entertaining the _veedor_ for an hour or more. I'll
have him send a bowl of broth at once. Adios."
Duero rejoined the others, and they sat long making their host unhappy;
then, having promised him with evident sincerity that if he whispered a
complaint he would find himself some morning with a severed windpipe,
they took their leave.
Senora Bolio went to the couch. Rava had raised her head, but
perceiving the invader was a woman, rose to her knees, her eyes
streaming, and voice broken with sobs. With arms outstretched, she
poured forth an impassioned supplication in words to the stranger
unknown,--in words unknown, but with meaning clear, and an eloquence
that went straight to the heart of the senora. For the senora had a
heart. It beat somewhat wildly at times, and at times with vehement
hostility toward the sex which had worked it countless wrongs; but like
other hearts that flame, it had its gentler warmth. The appeal of the
injured and helpless girl touched her womanliness, and she hastened to
her side.
"Poor dearie!" she exclaimed, seating herself and drawing the sobbing
prisoner to her breast. "Poor little waif! Have they been cruel, these
men? Ah, may the devil roast them well! Do not weep, love. Do not
weep, chiquita. They shall not harm thee more. Let the _veedor_
beware. Let him come to trouble thee, and we'll unjoint him--will we
not, little one? We'll put a twist in his neck, thou and I, that will
let him look at his shoulderblades to his heart's content--will we not,
my dove? Ah! That we'll do, and more, if he but roll his eyes aslant at
thee!"
With soft voice and motherly caress, the senora soothed the heart-broken
Rava; her words--perhaps quite as well--without meaning to the girl, but
her tones replete with sympathy. Rava clung to her as to a last hope,
becoming gradually more calm, until a knock at the door stirred her
terror afresh. Releasing her, the senora sprang up. Grimly she
stripped her battle-axe, and stepped to the door. The servant recoiled.
"Ah, 'tis thou!" the lady exclaimed, and received the broth.
The strength it gave aided her efforts to restore calm to the despairing
captive, and in an hour Rava slept. Her guardian sat long, nursing a
waxing enmity for the authors of the maiden's sorrows, and for Rogelio
in particular; then, having with fell purpose placed her weapon
conveniently at hand, she lay down beside her _protegee_.
She awoke early, astonished to find Rava kneeling with hands clasped in
prayer, a silver crucifix before her on her pillow, the Latin periods,
in her quaint, hesitating accents, sounding strangely. The senora
joined her orison, then turned to her in surprise.
"A Christian, thou?" she asked, taking her hand.
Rava understood the word, and assented eagerly. "Cristoval!" she said,
and touched the crucifix, her eyes filling at the name.
"Ah! Peralta! The stout freebooter with the good voice. I know him,"
and the senora nodded emphatically. "Art baptized, child?"
This word was familiar also, and Rava nodded her head; then said
eagerly: "Father Tendilla! Father Tendilla!"
"Father Tendilla!" exclaimed Senora Bolio. "Thou knowest him? Blessed
thought!--we'll send a word to Father Tendilla. Aha, Rogelio, sniffling
obesity, we shall see! We'll choke thee with thine own unholy purpose,
or I'm not Bolio. Rogelio, indeed! If, now, Pedro will but come!" She
patted Rava's arm reassuringly and arose.
Meanwhile the _veedor_, with eyes puffed and bloodshot from a night of
scanty sleep and much exacerbation, was breakfasting. At intervals he
paused, laid down his knife, and sat rubbing his hands in pleasing
meditation while he chewed. Then his complacent smile would fade, and
he would cease both to rub his hands and to chew while he irefully
reviewed the night's indignities. "Caitiffs! Perfidious scoundrels!
Vipers! Only wait! Rogelio hath not done. If he live not to see the
garrote at every one of your rascally throats, then 't is because he
shall be short-lived. Wait, my over-cheerful bullies: we'll have
another settling of this account, and 't is Rogelio will split his
sides! But, oh, my stars, what a cost! Four thousand--oh, calamities!"
Then, as the matter slowly revolved in his mind and the other aspect
came uppermost, he would begin to chew again with a returning smirk of
satisfaction. "But what a prize! Eh, Rogelio, what a prize! And
safely housed--in the cage, as Duero put it!--accursed knave! serpent!
Four--oh, my soul and body!--But, oho! Mendoza, thou uncouth ruffian,
how now? Rogelio hath overmatched thee, despite thy rant and swagger.
He, he! The fox and the bull--the fox and the bull! Ah, but thou 'rt a
rogue, Rogelio! a sad rogue and sly! And thou'lt be reimbursed the four
thousand--oh, my life, yes! Her jewels ought to do that. Did she wear
jewels last night? Murder! I did not think to look. But 't is like
Duero looked out for that--or that prison-bird, Peralta." Rogelio's
countenance fell. Presently it brightened. "But we have her, and now it
is to be seen how she will receive thee, Rogelio--her daring captor!
Doubtless with charming terrors and maidenly trembling. Oh, these
delightful women! Shy, timid, alluring! Bless their souls--if they
have souls. He, he!"
He sat awhile blinking and chuckling at the remains of his meal;
snuffled, arose, and went to make a toilet which he purposed should
reconcile his captive. A zestful, engaging occupation, this decking for
the admiration of a fair one; and most agreeable if one can, like
Rogelio, achieve it with the flattering self-assurance that it cannot
fail. Nevertheless, it was not without some rasping of temper, and more
than once in the process Rogelio stamped and swore with squeaky
emphasis. But at length, after a final glance at his mirror and a
dubious fingering of his double chin and hanging jowls, he quit his
room, creditably attired, considering all the circumstances. To be
sure, his hose were mended in places, his doublet seedy in the strong
light, and his ruff far from crisp and snowy; but these defects were
offset by a profusion of rings, and a redolence of musk sufficiently
overpowering to divert attention.
Senora Bolio answered his rap, and opening the door a little way,
replied to his salutation with a brief nod, and stood surveying him from
head to foot and back again from foot to head with disfavor as
disconcerting as it was manifest. Indisputably, the senora's aspect was
unfriendly.