Had the wounded man been left free to choose, he would in all
probability have decided in favour of being taken to Jalapa--that
sanatorium for invalids of the _tierra caliente_.
I know not whether he had resolved the matter in his mind, but if so,
the resolution rose not to his lips; for, as I stood over his couch,
venturing to add my solicitations to that _naive_ insinuation of his
sister, I heard voices outside the tent--voices of men who had just come
up--inquiring for "Calros Vergara."
"Hola!" cried the Jarocho, recognising the voices, "those are our
friends, sister--people from Lagarto. Run out, nina, and tell them I am
here!"
Lola glided towards the entrance of the tent.
"'Tis true, Calros," she cried, as soon as she had looked out. "I see
Vicente Vilagos, Ignacio Valdez, Rosario Tres Villas, and the little
Pablito!"
"Gracias a Dios!" exclaimed the invalid, raising himself on the _catre_.
"I should not wonder if they've come to carry me home."
"That's just what we've come for," responded a tall, stalwart specimen
of a Jarocho, who at that moment stepped inside the tent, and who was
hailed by the invalid as "Vicente Vilagos." "Just that, Calros; and
we're glad to learn that the Yankee bullet has not quite stopped your
breath. You're all right, hombre! So the medico outside has been
telling us; and you'll be able, he says, to make the journey to Lagarto,
where we'll carry you as gingerly as a game cock; ay, and the nina, too,
if she will only sit astride of my shoulders. Ha! ha! ha!"
By this time the other Jarochos, to the number of six or seven, had
crowded inside the tent, and surrounded the _catre_ in which lay their
countryman--each grasping him by the hand on arriving within reach; and
all saluting Lola with an air of _chevalresque_ gracefulness worthy of
the days of the Cid!
I stood aside--watching with curious interest this interchange of
friendly feeling; which partook also of a _national_ character: for it
was evident that the visitors of Calros were all of the Jarocho race.
I had another motive for observing their movements, far stronger than
that of mere curiosity. I looked to discover if among the new-comers I
could recognise a rival!
I watched the countenance of Lola more than theirs, scrutinising it as
each saluted her. I felt happy in having observed nothing--at least
nothing that appeared like a glance of mutual intelligence. They were
all thin, sinewy fellows, dark-skinned and dark-haired, having faces
such as Salvator Rosa would have delighted to commit to canvas, and
pointed chin-beards, like those painted by Vandyke.
None of them appeared to be over thirty years of age. Not one of them
was ill-looking; and yet there was not one who inspired me with that
unpleasant feeling too often the concomitant of love.
From all that I had yet seen, the rivalry of Rayas, Calros's enemy, was
more to be dreaded than that of any of his friends.
Vicente Vilagos was the oldest of the party, and evidently their leader
_pro tem_.
It was no longer a question of carrying Calros to Jalapa. That, to his
friends, would have appeared absurd--perhaps not the less so were Lola
to urge it.
She said nothing, but stood apart. I fancied she was not too content at
their coming, and the fancy was pleasant to me!
Surrounded by her enthusiastic friends, for a time I could not find an
opportunity of speaking with her. I endeavoured to convey intelligence
with my eyes.
The Jarochos are sharp fellows; skilled in courtesy, and thorough adepts
in the art of love. I had reason to be careful. My peculiar position
was against me, as it marked me out for their observation.
Their glances, however, were friendly. They had gathered some
particulars of what had passed between their compatriot and myself.
"Come!" said Vilagos, after some minutes spent in arranging their plans.
"'Tis time for us to take the road. 'Twill be sundown before we can
rest under the palm-trees of Lagarto."
The poetical phraseology did not surprise me: I knew it was _Jarocho_.
Calros had been placed upon a stretcher; and his bearers had already
carried him outside the tent. Some broad leaves of the banana had been
fixed over him as an awning, to shelter him from the rays of the sun.
"_Nor deconocio_," said Vilagos, coming up to me, and frankly extending
his hand. "You've been kind to our _con-paisano_, though you be for the
time our enemy. That, we hope, will soon pass; but whether it be in
peace or in war, if you should ever stray to our little _rancheria_ of
Lagarto, you will find that a Jarocho can boast of two humble
virtues--_gratitud y hospitalidad! Adios_!"
Each of the companions of Vilagos parted from me with an almost similar
salutation.
I would have bidden a very different sort of adieu to Dolores, but was
hindered by the presence of her friends, who clustered around.