“PERSPIRATION, SEÑORITA!”
As she spoke he had imagined a score of things she would ask him to do,
but never this. He realised by her words and the tone of her low voice
how the girl had been struck to the heart by the thought of a member
of her family--no matter of how distant a branch--turning traitor and
renegade.
There had been a quality of vehemence in her sentence that had struck
him like a blow. Unconsciously he started, and unconsciously his heels
swung back and his spurs dug into the flanks of his horse. The movement
was mechanical; he had seemed to try to dodge her sentence as he would
have touched his steed to dodge the blow of a mounted swordsman.
With a snort of fright at this unexpected and unmerited severity, the
horse sprang to one side, almost unseating its rider and hurling him
and the girl to the ground. The animal Señora Vallejo rode reared
suddenly, and the _señora_ gave a shrill screech and tried to clasp
her steed’s neck. But the unexpected application of spurs to his mount
saved the caballero’s life, perhaps, for even as the horse sprang a
musket spoke and a bullet whistled past uncomfortably close, and an
Indian sentinel’s shrieking challenge came out of the night, to be
caught up by another far to one side, and by still another, until it
seemed that they had ridden into a hostile camp.
The caballero clasped the _señorita_ closer and galloped madly after
the horse the _señora_ rode, for the woman was shrieking in her fright
and the caballero was afraid she would be thrown and injured. Another
musket spoke from a thicket as they flew past, and for an instant the
caballero loosened his grip of the reins and swayed forward in the
saddle, but almost immediately he sat straight again and peered ahead,
trying to locate the other horse.
The footing was secure here where the ground was comparatively level,
and soon he rode beside the other steed and reached out to grasp the
reins. Gradually he forced both animals to a canter, finally to a walk.
“It desolates me to think you have sustained fright, _señorita_, and
you, _señora_,” he said. “Luckily the horses sensed our enemies and
galloped of their own account, else one or more of us might be slain,
wounded or prisoner now. That was the last outpost of the hostiles, I
imagine; nevertheless it will repay us to move with caution the rest of
the distance. ’Tis but another mile to the mission, and soon we will be
in the midst of their sentinels, if they have any out. One force is as
dangerous for me as the other.”
“I doubt whether I can ride the other mile,” said the _señora_,
gaspingly. “Do you ride on and save the _señorita_; if the hostiles
catch me I shall die as becomes a woman of my blood.”
“You’ll die immediately with a slit throat if you do not ride on!” the
caballero announced, angrily; and the _señora_ moaned and rode on; only
the _señorita_ detected the note of amusement in the caballero’s voice.
They had come out upon the highway now, knowing that no hostile would
be there so close to the mission, and the caballero slowed the horses
to a walk again, letting the eager _señora_ ride a few feet ahead.
“Some minutes ago you asked me a question, _señorita_,” he said.
“Rather, say that you issued a command. So you would have me slay this
Rojerio Rocha?”
“He should pay the penalty for the infamy he has cast on our name,
_señor_. And you would like to slay him anyway; you have said so
yourself.”
“I am making a point of that, _señorita_--am I slaying him for you or
for myself?”
“I care not, as long as he is slain. I would you could do it before
the attack begins! Yet you do not seem eager to aid in saving the
good names of Fernandez and Rocha, it appears. Is it true, then, that
you both are leaders of the Indians, but jealous of each other’s
leadership?”
“I have told you I am no traitor, _señorita_.”
“Casting a stain upon my name is not enough cause to have you kill a
man, then?”
“The man has done enough to merit death, no doubt.”
“If that is not enough, there is more--a personal insult.”
“Personal insult, _señorita_?” he asked.
“He--he told me that after the attack had succeeded he would make
me his wife. When I told him I would sooner die than wed such an
infamous traitor he said--said that I would come to him, marriage or no
marriage----”
“By the saints! He said that?” the caballero cried. “Is there no drop
of gentle blood in his veins?”
“My blood, _señor_,” she reminded him.
“No more your blood than the water of that creek, _señorita_. Do not
protest! I know not what strain flows in his arteries, but it is
none like flows in yours. The man dies, _señorita_. I regret but one
thing--that I cannot slay him twice, once for you and once for myself.
He has a heavy score to be settled, this man!
“But here we must stop. It is but two hundred yards to the mission, and
I dare not approach nearer. Moreover, I have things to do before dawn.
May God and the saints guard you, _señorita_, and you, _señora_, during
the trials that are to come. I regret that you’ll have to dismount,
else ride with the _señora_----”
“Gladly will I walk the remainder of the way,” Señora Vallejo said, “if
you will aid me to the ground. I doubt, however, whether I can use my
legs for several minutes.”
“Walk slowly up the roadway,” the caballero instructed. “You will meet
guards, no doubt. If they challenge, you must answer immediately and
inform them of your identity. I will try to attract their attention
when you have gone a little way, and let them know you are approaching.”
He helped the _señora_ to the ground, then returned to his horse and
reached up for the _señorita_.
“You have not untied my feet and arms,” she reminded him.
“_Dios!_ That I should have forgotten that! Can you ever forgive me,
sweet lady? So many things have happened lately that I am beginning
to have a poor memory.... There! Take a step or two to restore
circulation. Hold to my arm----”
“Your arm is wet!” she exclaimed.
“Perspiration, _señorita_. There--I think you can walk now. Remember
what I have said--remain in the guest house when the attack begins, no
matter what others may wish you to do. As for this man who insulted
you--he shall pay the price. _Adios, señorita!_”
He carried her hand to his lips and kissed it, though she made futile
effort at withdrawal.
“_Adios_, Captain Fly-by-Night,” she said; and disappeared in the
darkness.
The caballero waited until the sound of the women’s footsteps had died
away, then he mounted his horse again, took out his pistol, and fired
into the air. A quick challenge came from the distance.
“Attention, _señores_!” he called. “Do not fire at the roadway--Señora
Vallejo and Señorita Fernandez come!”
An exclamation of incredulity answered him; he heard Anita calling in
her own voice; then he slapped the horse Señora Vallejo had ridden and
sent it back up the road, and swung his own mount toward the hill.
“‘_Señor_, your arm is wet,’” he mimicked. “By the saints, that was
rare indeed! ‘Perspiration, _señorita_,’ said I. Hah! Excellent--if it
was not so inconvenient--and painful!”
* * * * *
In the guest house a few minutes later Señorita Anita Fernandez
happened to glance down at her hand. She gasped in surprise and
understanding when she saw blood on it.