THE WAY OUT
Hysterics were over, weeping at an end. Señora Vallejo now sat on the
end of the bed looking straight before her, and on her face was an
expression that told she was resigned to whatever Fate had in store for
her, that pride and breeding and blood had come to her rescue and she
would be craven no more.
She held the poniard their last visitor had left behind. None other had
come; neither food nor water had been offered them. And until Anita
Fernandez, her spirit broken, went to the window and called down to the
patio, none would come, they knew; and Señora Vallejo knew, also, that
Señorita Anita would die of starvation before she would give in and ask
mercy at the hands of the man who had wronged her.
The _señora_ watched as the girl paced back and forth, her hands
clenched at her sides, suffering from shame and crushed pride.
“Will you not rest, Anita?” she asked, presently.
“How can there be rest for me,” the girl demanded, “when a man of our
blood is doing this thing?”
“He is but a distant relative--very distant.”
“Were he a million times removed, yet he is of a branch of the
Fernandez family. Whether this revolt is successful or not, always will
it be said, in speaking of it, that a Fernandez was the instigator. It
is not to be endured!”
“Yet we must endure it!” the _señora_ replied.
“Would death wipe out the stain, I had not lived this long! Why did you
take the poniard from me, Señora Vallejo? Give it me again!”
“Death would not prevent the revolt, _señorita_, and you are young to
die.”
“And what remains but death? Would you have me take this man as
husband--this man with his treasonable soul and bloody hands? Would
you have me reign queen over a nation of ignorant savages, with a
throne, sitting on a daïs of white men’s bones? How he lured us here,
so we might not be hurt at the mission, so he could hold us until his
nefarious work is done! What dupes we have been! If he wins, what hope
is left? If he loses, how could I ever face the good frailes and the
soldiers and other decent men again? Nothing but death is left--and
even that will not wash away the stain!”
A sudden noise in the fireplace in the corner--not much of a noise, to
be sure, but enough to be heard in the silence that followed the girl’s
outburst. She stopped in the middle of the room, looking toward the
pile of wood there. Señora Vallejo turned with fear in her face, and
thus they remained, breathless, wondering if they were about to face a
new horror.
Again the noise--as if a dagger were being used to pry the blocks
of stone and adobe apart. Then a stone fell--and another--and then
there was silence for a moment, while the _señora_ and the girl gazed
spellbound. The elder woman ran to the girl’s side and clasped her in
her arms; her hand gripped the hilt of the poniard.
A third stone fell with a clatter. Again, silence. Then a head
appeared, slowly, inch by inch, first the crown of black hair now
covered with dust and soot, then a sooty brow, two piercing eyes, a
moustache that looked absolutely disreputable now, a well-formed mouth
that flashed open in a smile and showed two rows of even white teeth,
an aggressive chin!
The two women scarcely breathed; their eyes seemed to be bulging from
their sockets. Two hands gripped the edge of the fireplace, more blocks
of adobe bulged, and the man himself stumbled into the room, bowing
before them and throwing wide his arms as if to indicate the state of
his apparel.
“_Señorita! Señora!_” he said, and bowed again, once to each of them.
“’Tis Captain Fly-by-Night!” the _señora_ gasped.
“Such I am called, sweet lady. ’Tis unceremonious, I realise, to call
upon ladies without being announced, especially when they are in a
bed-chamber, and twice especially when a man enters by means of a
fireplace that is none too clean. My condition desolates me, _señora_
and _señorita_, but circumstances are such that I am unable to appear
before you properly shaved and dressed in clean clothing. I trust you
will overlook the matter this once? It never will happen again--if I
can prevent it.”
“You? Here?” The _señorita_ had found her voice now.
“I do not wonder you have difficulty in recognising me----”
“Troubles are not heavy enough upon us but we must endure your
presence?” she asked. “It is like Captain Fly-by-Night to affront women
when they are unprotected, to offer violence----”
“Have I offered violence, sweet _señorita_?” he asked pleasantly. “Have
I said or done what I should not?”
“Why are you here? Why do you crawl through the chimney like a thing of
evil? For some good purpose?”
“Possibly; you may be the best judge of that. My purpose is to
remove you from here--the two of you--and take you where there are
neither traitors nor hostile Indians--to the mission, to be precise.
I understand the close of another day will see siege and perhaps
bloodshed at this same San Diego de Alcalá, yet it would be better
for you to withstand the one and see the other than to remain at the
Fernandez rancho. For surely you realise your situation here. If this
revolt fails, as it will, you will be at the mercy of furious gentiles.
If it succeeds--well, if it succeeds, you will at least be at the mercy
of the traitor who caused it to succeed----”
The girl interrupted him again.
“You speak boldly of traitors, Captain Fly-by-Night. What about
yourself?”
“You consider me one?” he asked.
“Is not the fact well known, _señor_? Did not word come from the
Governor that your perfidy was discovered, and that you were to be
taken dead or alive? Have you not been fugitive these two days past?”
“Ah, yes! His Excellency the Governor has, intentionally or not, caused
me some annoyance by that same order. I must speak harshly to him when
next we meet. It is true also that I have been fugitive and forced to
use my poor wits to exist, with both soldiers and redskins trying to
run me down or run me through.”
“So your Indians have turned upon you? You are a double traitor,
perhaps. It was only recently I learned that this Rojerio Rocha,
who--Heaven help me!--is of a distant branch of my family, is a
renegade dealing with hostiles; and he as good as told me, here in
this very room, that you also were a renegade, that you fought for
leadership, since it was considered one white general was enough. I
believe he intimated, too, that you fought concerning myself, regarding
the question as to whose property I was to be after your plans had been
carried out. ’Tis like Captain Fly-by-Night to heap these additional
insults upon an unprotected girl!”
“This man you call Rojerio Rocha said all that, eh? Hah! How my blade
will sing when we meet!”
“He expressed a wish to stand up to you again, I believe. ’Twere a pity
you did not slay each other!”
“When next we meet my blade shall do more than pierce his shoulder,
_señorita_, I promise you.”
“Almost could I forgive your baseness and your cruel boasts concerning
myself, if you did that! Almost could I forgive your treason if you
took the life of the man who has put the stain of disloyalty upon our
name!”
“You speak freely of treason, _señorita_. I am no traitor.”
“You--no traitor?” She threw back her head and laughed loudly,
scornfully.
“May I suggest that you lower your voice?” he queried. “If you bring
hostiles into the room all my plans will have gone awry.”
“Your plans, _señor_?”
“To remove you and the _señora_ to the mission, _señorita_.”
She dropped the _señora’s_ arms from about her and took a step toward
him, and again her hands were clenched at her sides and her eyes blazed.
“Do you think I would stir a step from this place with you?” she
demanded. “Do you think I trust you? Do you imagine you have skill
enough, if I were willing, to get two women out of this house, put them
in a carreta and drive them to the mission--when the roads are watched,
when there are plenty of horses and ponies here for hostiles to use in
chase?”
“’Tis a difficult proposition, I admit, yet I think it can be solved
successfully.”
“Leave this house with you?” she stormed at him. “Go to the mission?
How could I look a fray in the face again? How could I even speak to
my good padre? How could I go to the presidio, where the soldiers were
wont to call me the regiment’s daughter? ‘Daughter of an accursed
family that spread murder and robbery throughout the coast country,’
they would say now. Here I am, Señor Fly-by-Night, in the home of
my father, with his good name besmirched by a traitor, and here I
remain, hoping death will come quickly, even before I know whether this
treasonable plot succeeds.”
“The task will be more difficult than I had imagined,” quoth the
caballero.
“Go with you? Trust you?” she went on. “To what purpose? You would
steal me from this Rojerio Rocha, eh? A pretty pair of rogues!”
Now he walked swiftly to her side and looked down into her blazing
eyes, and when he spoke it was in a voice she never had heard before.
“_Señorita_,” he said, “I swear to you by all the saints, by my dead
mother’s honour, by whatever you will, that I mean you no harm, and
that my sole object is to rescue you from this place and take you to
the mission, there to hand you over to your padre. I have come here
to-night at much risk, since both white and red men seek me. I have
used subterfuge and device to reach you safely. And you must allow the
rescue!”
Señora Vallejo would have spoken, but he silenced her with a wave of
his hand and looked at the girl again.
“And I say to you I am no traitor, _señorita_,” he went on. “Never
have I raised my hand against His Excellency the Governor, never have
I conspired with Indians. In time, things may be explained; for the
present I ask you to believe me.”
“Yet you are Captain Fly-by-Night--gambler, swindler, wronger of
women!”
“Which has nothing to do with this present rescue.”
“Save this,” she added, quickly, “that Señorita Anita Fernandez does
not trust herself with Captain Fly-by-Night, no matter what the
circumstances.”
The caballero sighed and turned on one heel to walk back to the
fireplace, there to stand for a moment in thought.
“It is, in a word, a difficult proposition,” he confessed. “Here I am
in this house after having difficulties, trying to be a hero and rescue
a damsel in distress, also her _duenna_, and the damsel refuses to be
rescued.”
“Then depart as you came!” the _señorita_ said.
“The damsel,” he went on, scratching his head and not even looking
at her, “does not fully appreciate the condition of things. She does
not realise in other words, what is for her own good in this matter.
The _duenna_, not having spoken, naturally leaves things to the
caballero----”
“I remain here, Captain Fly-by-Night,” Señora Vallejo interrupted. “And
do you show what small spark of manhood you may have left by quitting
these women’s quarters, where you are an uninvited guest.”
“Excellent! Always insist on the proprieties, even with half a thousand
red wretches within call ready to commit every crime known to man!” the
caballero replied. He looked up suddenly, and the women were frightened
at the expression that now came into his face. “You, _señora_, and
you, _señorita_,” he went on, “say you know my reputation as Captain
Fly-by-Night. Suppose I say to you, then, that I am a desperate man,
that we are done with pleasantries, and that you must do as I say or
expect violence? You understand me, do you not? I am done with playing.
Now you must obey!”
His voice was stern as he bent toward them and volleyed the words. His
eyes seemed to flash in rage, and with two strides he had reached the
head of the bed, and tore from it a scarf Señorita Anita had worn, and
turned to approach the girl.
His movements were so swift that there was no time for the woman to
act. He grasped the girl around the waist, and with the scarf he
stifled her scream of fright in her throat.
“Not a word from you, either, _señora_!” he commanded; and began
winding the scarf around the girl’s head, so that she could make no
sound. He picked her up, then, and carried her to the bed and put her
upon it, and in a moment had torn the bed covering to strips and tied
the girl’s hands behind her back and fastened her feet together. Two
frightened eyes looked up at him, a low moan came from her, but that
was all.
Señora Vallejo was crouched by the fireplace, half stunned with fear,
clutching at the poniard. He whirled upon her and she opened her mouth
to scream; but he reached her side in time to clap a hand over her lips
and choke the scream back into her throat. Once she struck at him with
the poniard; and he laughed lightly as he grasped her wrist, took the
weapon from her, and placed it in his belt beside his own.
“Listen, _señora_!” he said. “You will do as I say in everything,
without making the least sound, for, by all the saints, if you as much
as utter a gurgle I’ll slit your throat like I would a rabbit’s. You
understand me, _señora_? I am master now. Let fear paralyse your vocal
cords if you would save your life!”
He hurried back to the bed and picked up the girl, then strode to the
fireplace again.
“In you go, _señora_!” he ordered. “’Tis but a drop of six feet, and
though there is dust and soot it will not harm you. Drop straight into
the darkness, and when you are at the bottom stand still. And not a
gasp, else your blood will mingle with the soot!”
“I--I can’t!” the _señora_ gasped.
“Then will I be saved trouble by slitting your throat and leaving you
here! Down, _señora_!”
Trying hard to stifle her sobs of fear, the bulky _señora_ placed
her feet in the hole and slowly lowered herself until her head was
on a level with the floor. There stopped, with eyes bulging, until
the caballero made a motion with the poniard. And then she let go and
dropped, to fall with a thump at the bottom of the chimney in a shower
of soot.
The caballero listened a moment, until he was sure nobody on the floor
had been attracted by the sound, and then he lowered the girl down the
chimney, and followed to stand beside the _señora_ in the darkness.
“The window!” he whispered. “Allow me to say, _señora_, that we are
going through the window to the yard, then across the yard to the
fence, where I have horses waiting. I advise you to move silently and
listen for my orders, and obey them, for the least slip will mean
discovery, and that will mean a quick journey for you to a land where
there are neither hostiles nor neophytes--let us hope! The window,
_señora_!”
“I--I cannot!”
“Then you will be found here on the floor with a slit throat! I am not
a man to be trifled with, I assure you! And as for saying that you
cannot, a person can do many impossible things when death is behind
them and gaining steadily. The window, _señora_!”
The caballero looked out first to see that the coast was clear. There
were no Indians on that side of the house now. The majority of them
were in pursuit of the fleeing horses, following the stampede, and
others were in the patio discussing what had caused the animals to
become suddenly insane with fear when it was apparent to all sensible
persons that there was nothing of which to be afraid.
He stepped back and motioned to the _señora_, and she began the task
of getting through the window and to the ground below, finally falling
with a grunt to the sward. In an instant the caballero stood beside
her, with the _señorita_ in his arms.
The _señora_ was guided by whispers now, but they were accompanied
by such direful hisses that she continued to tremble with fear. Each
instant she expected to feel steel pierce her back, thinking the
caballero but awaited an excuse to put her out of the way, and so carry
off the _señorita_.
They reached the clump of palms and rested there for a moment while the
caballero listened to the sounds that came from the black night about
them. Then they went forward again, slowly, careful to make no noise.
Now they had reached the fence, and because of the caballero’s
whispered threats the _señora_ managed to climb it. They came to where
the horses were tethered, and there the caballero commanded silence
while he listened again, fearing someone might have found the horses
and was waiting to see who would claim them.
“That steed will be yours, _señora_,” he said, pointing it out.
“I cannot ride,” she moaned.
“Then here is where you acquire that accomplishment, _señora_, else
here is where you die. It desolates me that there is not a lady’s
saddle on the mount, but it was impossible to provide one. However, the
night is dark----”
“Ride a man’s saddle? Never!” the _señora_ gasped.
“Then I am quit of one trouble, and the horse will not be needed, since
I mean to carry the _señorita_ on mine.”
“Ah, _señor_, for the love of the saints----”
“Mount, _señora_! Up, as I aid you! We cannot remain here until dawn!”
In imagination she saw him reach toward his belt, and fear gave her
strength. Señora Vallejo got into the man’s saddle, and bent forward to
grasp the horse’s mane, feeling as much fear for the animal as for the
man.
“Do not strangle him, _señora_,” the caballero suggested lightly, and
sprang into his own saddle, with Señorita Anita before him.
The girl had ceased moaning some time before, but the caballero did
not remove the scarf. Though he could not see because of the darkness,
he sensed that her eyes were flashing angrily and that yet she did not
trust him fully, did not believe he was making this rescue in good
faith.
He urged his horse forward, and bent over to catch the rein of Señora
Vallejo’s animal, and so moved away from the fence, guiding his own
mount with his knees, holding the girl and leading the steed that the
_señora_ clutched violently by the mane, expecting every moment to be
hurled to the ground.
They made a great circle, getting a butte between themselves and the
rancho, and then the caballero urged the animals into a trot. No fear
of death could stay Señora Vallejo’s tongue then. Two shrieks came from
her throat in quick succession so like Indian wails that the caballero
thanked his saints nobody would be attracted by them. But he felt
called upon to stop the horses and make a statement.
“Another chirp like that, _señora_, and your body is found here in the
pasture at daybreak,” he warned. “Clutch the horn of the saddle and
leave the animal his hair. Bounce, if you will, but do not scream.”
And he started the horses again, and the _señora_ bounced, and though
she screamed no more, yet she breathed ladylike imprecations upon the
caballero and all horses, no matter of what breed. Faster and faster
he urged the steeds, until the _señora_ was in a panic of fear, had
given up all hope and expected death momentarily beneath the horse’s
hoofs--but clung on, nevertheless.
Now the caballero stopped and listened, and then began unwrapping the
scarf from the _señorita’s_ head. She gave a gasp as it fell away, a
sob, another moan.
“_Señorita!_” the caballero said, and his voice was soft again.
“_Señorita_, will you not speak to me and say that you forgive? There
was no other way, believe me, for you were so determined. You did not
trust me, and time was short and the danger great. It was to save you.”
“From one shame for another?” she asked.
“Not for all the world would I wrong you, offer you harm, hurt your
feelings!” he said. “You do not understand, _señorita_. Back there at
the rancho there was naught but danger for you, no matter what the
outcome of this revolt. It is better you are at the mission with decent
people, and there I am taking you now. It were better to die there,
_señorita_, with your _duenna_, and go to death unsullied, than to live
and be at the rancho when this revolt is over.”
“Unsullied!” she cried. “How can that ever be now, since Rojerio Rocha
has done this thing?”
“I would not dwell on that, _señorita_, at the present time. The night
is passing, and we must hurry on to the mission, and we can make none
too good time considering the _señora’s_ horsewomanship.” She was sure
there was the sound of mirth in his voice. “I ask you only to trust me
for the time being, and to do one other thing--when the fighting begins
at the mission, repair to the guest house with your _duenna_ and remain
there, despite any orders to the contrary. Do this, and I swear you’ll
never meet death at the hands of hostiles.”
“How can you promise that, when you dare not approach the mission or
presidio yourself?” she asked.
“Trust me, and ask no questions.”
“I cannot forget you are Captain Fly-by-Night. It is almost an insult
to be rescued by such a man.”
She felt his hands grip her for an instant, then the pressure of them
relax, and to her ears came a whisper so low that even Señora Vallejo
could not hear.
“_Señorita!_ Since first I saw you I have longed to hold you in my
arms as I am doing now. Since you taunted me down by the creek I have
loved you. You are mine, though you think it not. And do not now speak
of insults, else will I crush your red lips with mine! What I have
been, or who, or what or who I am now--still I love you as a strong man
loves, with my whole heart--and for you I would gladly die if it would
save you pain.”
He started the horses again, since she did not answer. Neither did she
struggle to get from his arms, as he had expected she would do. For
half a mile they rode in silence, carefully, making their way over the
hills toward the mission, avoiding all roads and trails. And then,
suddenly, two arms slipped around his neck to pull down his head, and a
voice breathed into his ear:
“Prove your words, Captain Fly-by-Night. I am motherless, fatherless,
and the man who was to have been my husband has cast shame upon my
family. There seems just now no future for me among reputable persons.
Who am I to taunt you with your past and reputation--I, daughter of a
family of traitors?”
“Do not speak so, _señorita_!” he said.
“I do speak so! Perhaps you are more the man than I have thought. May I
put you to the test?”
“Gladly will I stand it!” he said.
“Then prove at least that you will help remove this stain on our family
name. Prove that you are not partners with the man who put it there.
Prove that, though outcast at present, and pursued by white men and
red, you are a loyal man. Do one thing for me, Captain Fly-by-Night,
and I will try to think better of you, and I will go on to the mission
freely and remain in the guest house looking to you for help, as you
have suggested. I can promise nothing more, but, if this much will
content you for the time being----”
“Name what it is you would have me do, _señorita_!” he said.
“A thing that perhaps you will not dislike. Kill me this Rojerio
Rocha!”