THE METAMORPHOSIS OF DON CARLOS.
“Stand back!” commands Navarro, as his men start forward to the enraged
Alvarez, whose fingers have twined about the insurgent leader’s neck.
“Back, I say! I can handle this gentleman without assistance.”
Alvarez is as a child in the steely arms of El Terredo. The latter tears
the clutching fingers from his throat, sweeps the Spanish captain off
his feet and dashes him to the ground.
Half-stunned and crazed by passion, Alvarez struggles to his knees and
whips out a pistol. It is knocked from his grasp before his arm
straightens, as half a dozen watchful Cubans pounce upon him.
“Away with them!” orders Navarro, with a sweep of his arm, and as
Alvarez and Barker are hustled off in the darkness he turns to Don
Carlos, who has been a silent and trembling witness of the conflict.
“In heaven’s name, my brother, what brings you on this errand? Don
Manuel must be mad.”
“Ah, Emilio, do not blame Don Manuel,” gently protests Carlos, as he
embraces Navarro. “The matter was urgent, a courier was required, and I
myself suggested that I be that courier. To see you again I would have
dared the perils of the journey, even were nothing more at stake.”
“Brave heart,” murmurs Navarro, brushing back the ringlets from his
brother’s brow. “But let this be your last commission, Carlos. I would
not jeopardize your life for a thousand Cubas. But come, is the news you
bring me verbal or written?”
For answer Carlos places a letter in Navarro’s hands, and the latter
reads it by the light of the lantern. It is brief, and as he thrusts it
into his pocket Jack steps forward.
“Ah, Ashley,” cries Navarro, grasping him by the hand; “the trick was
quickly done, eh? Carlos, it is to our American friend that you owe your
present safety and perhaps your life. It was he who warned me of the
plot for your arrest.”
“Spare me any praise,” protests Ashley, as Carlos is about to express
his gratitude. “By good fortune I became acquainted with Alvarez’
design, and further luck cast me in your brother’s way.”
“After you rode for miles into the mountains in search of me,”
interposes Navarro.
“Yes,” laughs Jack, “for I had a suspicion that, single-handed, I should
not have been a match for the Spanish captain and his men. Now, will you
tell me, my friend, how you circumvented Alvarez so cleverly?”
“It was an accident. The Spaniards came down the road instead of the
railroad track. When they located themselves at the crossing we
established our party about 200 yards from them, to wait the coming of
the train. The watch growing irksome, I and two of my men set forth to
reconnoiter. We had scarcely proceeded fifty yards, when we stood face
to face in the moonlight with two of the troopers.
“Instantly we threw ourselves upon them and stifled their attempts to
sound an alarm. They were dragged back to our ambush, bound hand and
foot, and pistols placed to their heads with orders that they be
instantly shot at the first outcry. I rightly assumed that their
companions would institute search for them, and shortly after two more
troopers came up the road. These we took from the rear and when all four
were safely secured the idea of exchanging our dress for theirs and
rejoining Alvarez naturally suggested itself. The rest you know.”
“Yes, and I also know that only by a fraction of a second did I prevent
your glittering sword blade from carving in twain the head of a very
warm friend of mine.”
“How? The fellow who was holding Carlos?”
“The same. He is an American, like myself, but it suits his purpose for
the present to masquerade as a soldier of Castile. At the moment I
interfered you were about to slaughter the man to whom Carlos primarily
owes his escape to-night, for it was through him that I learned of the
plan to arrest the messenger to El Terredo.”
“San Pedro!” cries the impetuous Navarro, in tones of sincere regret. “I
should never have forgiven myself. But I will at once set him at liberty
and add the poor consolation of an honest apology.”
“That is exactly what I do not wish you to do. It was to avoid
recognition that I rigged out in this uniform, and I am confident that
Alvarez did not recognize me. Barker, that is my friend’s name, may or
may not have discovered my identity when I cried out to you at the
moment I clutched your arm. At any rate, I shall not attempt to
ascertain. The principal point I wish to insist upon, if you will permit
me, is that Alvarez and Barker shall not be separated; further, that
they be permitted to proceed to Santiago within forty-eight hours.”
“Your wishes shall be respected, my dear Ashley,” says Navarro.
“Where have you had the prisoners taken?” asks Jack.
“To the ambush I spoke of, about 200 yards up the road.”
“And your further plans?”
“I intended to have marched the Spaniards back to the mountains as
prisoners of war. Within the hour I shall send a courier to the
revolutionary camp with orders to forward two hundred men with which to
capture the supply train. They should arrive early to-morrow forenoon.”
“Good. That work successfully accomplished, you can then permit Alvarez
and Barker to depart in peace.”
“If you so desire. And now suppose we rejoin my men.”
As the two move away Ashley’s eye is caught by the glitter of a small
object upon the ground. He picks it up and discovers that it is a locket
attached to a broken bit of chain. As he turns it over in his hands and
seeks to examine it in the pale light of the moon, Navarro calls to him
from the road: “Still surveying the battlefield, Ashley?”
“Coming,” says Jack. He drops his find into his hip pocket and proceeds
to forget all about it.
“What is to be done with Carlos, now that he is here?” he inquires as he
rejoins the Navarros.
“Carlos must return to Santiago at once,” declares El Terredo. “If I
might add to the already large debt of gratitude, I would ask that you
accompany him.”
“Gladly, Navarro. My intentions were to make Santiago at all speed. You
will not have Carlos return by rail?”
“No; by horse.”
“There is a possibility of running into trouble upon his arrival at the
city.”
“True; and to obviate that I have conceived a plan, not startlingly
original. Carlos must disguise himself in feminine attire.”
“Ah, then I pose in the role of a knight errant escorting a beautiful
maiden over the desert sands to her ancestral halls.”
Navarro laughs softly. “Is the part distasteful to you?” he asks.
“Nay. My only regret will be that Carlos is not the beauteous maid she
will represent.”
“But he will look the part to perfection, I promise you. Half a dozen of
my men will act as escort and conduct Carlos to the quinta. But I want
the assurance of your active head and arm the greater part of the
journey.”
“Thank you. And the female toggery—where is that to be procured?”
“That is a more difficult matter to adjust. Do you think the same
wardrobe that fitted you out to-night could be called upon in this
emergency?”
“It is possible,” replies Ashley. “There are women folks about the Hotel
Americana, else the house would not present its unusually neat
appearance. And there being women some of them probably have a dress or
two to spare. I will endeavor to negotiate with the landlord for a
suitable costume for your brother.”
“Excellent. I will await you here.”
The village is quiet as a churchyard when Ashley reaches the hotel.
Lights are visible, however, and a few raps upon the portals bring forth
the landlord.
Carter receives back his Grand Army habiliments without comment, but his
face is a study when Ashley broaches the idea of a feminine rig.
“By gum,” he exclaims; “you’re the funniest customer I’ve run up against
in all my Cuban hotel business, and I have met some queer ones, too.”
“My dear Carter,” confides Ashley, “as a matter of fact, I am not
altogether right in my head. I am seized at frequent periods with the
most absurd notions. Fortunately, I always have money enough to gratify
my freakish ideas.”
“I am not so soft as I look,” remarks Carter, dryly. “I’ll see what I
can do for you. How soon do you want the clothes?”
“As usual, at once. And while they are being hunted up I wish you would
have my horse saddled, as I must take the road within the hour. It is
getting along toward midnight. Where are the troopers—drunk or asleep?”
“Both, most of them,” is the laconic response, as the boniface takes
himself off to consult with his wife upon the subject of providing a
costume for a slender young man about five feet in height, as Ashley
describes the prospective wearer of the garments.
Landlord Carter has a daughter who rejoices in the possession of three
dresses. This alone should constitute her the belle of Jibana. For a sum
sufficient to double her wardrobe the young lady is induced to part with
the best of her three outfits and a bargain is consummated.
Miss Carter is not at all pleased at being routed from her slumbers, but
she is a rather pretty young woman, and after five minutes of Ashley’s
persuasive eloquence the landlord’s daughter beams with good nature and
laughingly inquires: “Do you want a complete costume?”
“To the last ribbon,” declares Jack. “By Jove!” he adds, mentally, “if
Carlos proposes to impersonate a young lady, he shall not lack
verisimilitude through any neglect on my part.”
“A thousand thanks, Miss Carter,” says Ashley, when the clothes are
finally tied in a big bundle and given into his possession.
“Isn’t this too much?” demurs the young lady, glancing at the gold coin
which he places in her hands.
“Not a bit,” replies Jack. “If it is”—he glances around, sees that papa
Carter has disappeared, and snatches a kiss from the young lady’s red
lips—“if it is, will you permit me to balance the debt?” he finishes.
Miss Carter blushes furiously, but she does not reprove the audacity.
Good-looking young men, alas, are few in Jibana.
Half an hour later Ashley turns the bundle of apparel over to Navarro
and receives the latter’s warmest thanks. “At what time do we start?”
Jack inquires.
“At daybreak. You will need a few hours’ rest before then.”
“I can use them all right. But suppose Alvarez’ men come nosing around
after their absent leader?”
“They will not find him. Follow me and I will lead you to our camp for
the night. I shall send with you as a guide a man who knows the country
well.”
With the dawn the little party is under way. Ashley stares in
astonishment at the metamorphosis that has been effected in the person
of Carlos. And as Carlos raises his veil and returns Jack’s stare with a
glance in which amusement is mingled with blushing diffidence, the
newspaper man laughs outright.
“I told you he would look the part to perfection,” remarks the elder
Navarro, as he comes forward to say adios. “Take good care of him,
Ashley, mi amigo. He is very dear to me.”
“For your sake I will guard him with jealous care,” replies Ashley.
“Good-by, Navarro. I hope to see you again before many days.”
“Most heartily do I echo the wish. But who can say what the future has
in store?” murmurs the insurgent leader. He watches the little cavalcade
until it disappears down the forest trail and then turns toward the
mountains with a heavy sigh.
Ashley drops to the rear of the little procession, lights a cigar and
relapses into a reverie. Suddenly he bethinks him of the locket which he
picked up on the scene of last night’s struggle.
Although his eyes never before rested upon it, as he looks at it now the
locket has almost a familiar appearance. He is somewhat prepared for the
surprise which follows his pressing of the spring.
The locket formerly contained two miniatures. One has been removed. That
which yet remains is an exquisite portrait of Louise Hathaway.
As Ashley stares at the gold ornament with its broken bit of chain he
realizes that he is looking upon the locket supposed to have been
removed from the watch-chain of Roger Hathaway the night the aged
cashier came to his death in the Raymond National Bank.
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