LOVE IN DARKNESS
The hand of the girl’s tormentor flew to the hilt of his poniard as he
whirled toward the sound. Anita gave a cry of relief and gladness, and
then stared with bulging eyes toward the corner.
An aperture had appeared in the wall there, and Captain Fly-by-Night
was standing just before it, bowing.
Now he raised his head and advanced two steps, and his blazing eyes
met those of the other man. It seemed to the girl crouching at the end
of the fireplace that the caballero’s shoulders grew broader and that
he grew in height. His clothing was covered with dirt, the beard on
his face was scraggy, there were deep hollows in his cheeks and dark
circles under his eyes--yet Señorita Anita thought him handsome now as
he confronted the man who had insulted her.
“Hah! ’Tis Claudio again!” sneered the raging man in the centre of the
room.
“You call yourself Rojerio Rocha, I believe,” came the answer. “I am
happy to find you here, _señor_. I have promised to slay you.”
“Indeed?”
“To send your black soul to the Hades where it belongs,” the caballero
continued. “Men have died to-day because you plotted--better men than
you! You have broken faith with friends, betrayed those who have been
near you, swindled, lied, insulted helpless women, sent human beings to
agonising death----”
“Enough! This from a man known as Captain Fly-by-Night, a man hunted
by soldiers and hostiles alike? I have but to open the door, my fine
caballero, and some of these same hostiles will finish you in the
twinkling of an eye. You hear those shrieks, caballero? They mean the
hostiles have gained entrance to the church--that I am master--that I
have won!”
“And in the hour of your hellish victory, you are to die! I have
promised it!... _Señorita_, will you kindly step through this hole in
the wall? There will be happenings here women’s eyes should not see.”
“I want--to see,” she gasped.
“I appreciate your feelings in the matter, _señorita_,” the caballero
replied, bowing again. “Do you remain in the corner, then, out of the
way.... As for you, _señor_, I notice you did not carry sword with you
when you pretended an escape and reached sanctuary in the mission. But
there is a poniard in your belt, and another on the floor beneath your
foot. So it shall be poniards, _señor_!”
As he spoke, he took off his sword and threw it in the corner behind
him, took dagger from his belt, and advanced two steps more with
coolness and deliberation, as if he had been treading the measure of a
dance. The man before him retreated, still clutching at his belt.
“’Tis like you,” he cried, “to fight a wounded man. Think you the
slash you gave me in the shoulder has healed?”
“As to that, we are on equal terms,” the caballero announced. “I carry
in my shoulder a musket slug no surgeon has had chance to remove, given
me by one of your sentinels.”
“And why should I fight with you?” the other demanded. “A victorious
general does not cross blades with a fugitive. One call from the door
and you are undone!”
Two quick steps he took toward the door, as if to let down the bar and
throw it open to call.
“Stop!” the caballero commanded. “If for no other reason, you should
fight with me to show you are not a coward, _señor_. This lady, too,
has called for assistance, and I have responded. Seek not to delay me
until your men come from the church in search of you. You fight, else
die with knife in back like a common cur!”
The other whirled toward him, snarling; their wrists crashed together.
They swerved and twisted, trying to gain advantage, the caballero
silent and deliberate as he went about his business of killing this man
who mouthed curses. Thrice around the room they circled, while the girl
crouched in the corner, clasped hands to her breast and breathed deeply
and watched from narrowed eyes.
“If you have prayers to say, renegade, say them now!” the caballero
shouted. “Rojerio Rocha, scion of a noble family--you! In a moment we
shall see whether your blood is blue. You have committed enough crimes
to merit ten deaths, yet I can cause you but one!”
They separated for an instant, clashed again. The caballero spoke no
more, and the watching girl saw that his face was white and that he bit
at his lip and seemed to be growing weak. For the wound in his shoulder
was paining, and he was struggling to keep the film from before his
eyes, conserving strength for the final effort. His antagonist sensed
the advantage and pressed the fighting. A cry of fear for the caballero
came from the girl’s throat.
But he was not to be defeated yet. He braced himself and assumed the
aggressive once more, and again they fought to the centre of the room.
Now fear clutched at the heart of the caballero’s antagonist, and he
showed his craven spirit and love of unfairness.
“Ho!” he shrieked, to be heard above the din of battle in the plaza.
“To the rescue! Hostiles! Your general is being slain! To the rescue!”
A wounded man sitting before the door heard him and spread the alarm.
A score of hostiles left the church and ran across the plaza to peer
through the window of the guest house. They had been told not to enter
there, but what they saw caused them to disregard their orders. In an
instant they were battering at the door and shrieking to their comrades.
They appeared at the windows, some of them holding muskets ready to
fire, but they dared not for fear of sending a bullet to the heart of
their leader. Purposely, the caballero circled so that his enemy was
between him and the windows; and now, feeling his strength going, half
sick because of the pain his shoulder gave him, he attempted a quick
end to the combat.
There flashed through his mind what fate was in store for the
_señorita_ if he went down before this man. He remembered other things,
too, that gave him an unnatural strength.
“The hole in the wall--get to the hole in the wall,” he cried to the
girl; and she glided past the fireplace, not taking her eyes from the
combatants an instant, until she stood where he had commanded.
A heavy timber was being crashed against the door now. Hostiles had
left the windows to help break in. The caballero fell back toward
the aperture, gasping, half reeling, blood flowing from cuts on his
forearm. He staggered, and his antagonist rushed.
And then they were locked in each other’s arms for an instant while the
caballero, calling upon all his remaining strength, bent the other man
backward, broke his hold, drove home the knife!...
He stepped back, and the body of the other crashed to the floor. There
was no question of the man’s death, for the caballero knew his poniard
had found the heart.
Reeling toward the corner, as the heavy door began to splinter, hearing
the cries of the girl in his ears as she begged him to make haste, he
stopped an instant to pick up his sword from the floor. And then he was
by her side, and she was half supporting him with her arms, and the big
door fell with a crash to let a score of hostiles pour over it into the
guest house.
A flash of flame--a bullet struck the wall within a foot of his head!
The caballero laughed wildly, hurled his poniard at the nearest Indian,
stumbled into the dark tunnel and swung shut the section of the wall.
They could hear the hostiles crashing against it on the other side.
They could not see each other in the darkness, yet Señorita Anita
guessed that he was bowing before her; and there was the ring of proud
victory in his voice when he spoke:
“_Señorita_, I have kept my promise--I have slain this
man you called Rojerio Rocha. ’Ware my arm--it is wet!
Perspiration--again--_señorita_!”
Quiet in the tunnel for a moment, save for the caballero’s heavy
breathing and the girl’s gasps, as she still clung to his arm while he
leaned against the dirt wall trying to recover breath and strength.
In the guest house the hostiles were shrieking news of the fact that
their leader had been slain, and telling by whom, and screeches of rage
came from them as they hammered against the strong adobe wall, some
searching in vain for a way of opening the aperture, others doubting
whether the aperture had been there. Some, superstitious, began to
creep away, thinking there was a ghost somewhere in this business.
They could hear, too, the roaring of flames from the burning buildings,
and the volleys of shots continued, showing that the defenders of the
mission still kept up the unequal battle.
“You saved me--saved me,” Anita was breathing.
“I merely kept my promise, _señorita_. Thank you for remaining in the
guest house--for your faith in my words.”
“Yet I doubted at times,” she said.
“No more than natural, since the words were spoken by such a worthless
being as myself.”
“Call yourself worthless no longer!” the girl exclaimed. “Men must have
told falsehoods concerning you. I cannot believe Captain Fly-by-Night
to be the man they say.”
“Worthless compared to yourself, at least, _señorita_. Made better
perhaps by my sudden love for you! But I must not speak of that, since
you will think I insult you again.”
“Ah, it is not an insult now. Have you not saved me?”
“I do not ask love as a reward for service, _señorita_. And--I am
strong again now, and we must be going.”
“Where?” she asked.
“Through this tunnel, though I scarcely know which way to go. The
hostiles may open that hole in the wall soon, then this will be no
safe place for us. I hope I have not saved you to have you placed in
danger again.” He put an arm around her--nor did she protest--and led
her slowly along the narrow cut in the earth, trying to shield her from
falling dirt. Where the tunnel branched, he stopped.
“That way leads to the well in the orchard,” he said. “We dare not go
there now, for the hostiles would see us. This leads to the mortuary
chapel of the mission, a place that can be defended against both sides,
_señorita_. I think it would be the better place. If I must die, where
more appropriate than in a mortuary chapel, eh?”
“Do not speak of dying,” she said. “You must live!”
“Had I something for which to live----!”
“More than I have,” she replied. “What is there in the future for me?
Where is there escape from this present predicament? Where can Anita
Fernandez hold up her head, even if she escaped, since all will know
one of her blood did this thing?”
“Think of your own sweet character, _señorita_! The faults of another
cannot change that. You must live--live! We will make our way to the
chapel, and please the saints I can hold it until the Governor comes! I
pray he arrives soon, else he will find nothing but ruins and dead men.”
“If he does not come--? If he stops at San Luis Rey de Francia to give
aid there----?”
“Then perhaps we are lost,” the caballero replied.
“You will not let them take me. You will slay me first?”
“You ask me to kill the thing I love,” he said. “Yet my love is great
enough, I think, to do even that to save you from a worse fate. I
promise, _señorita_. Yet I pray nothing of the sort will be necessary.
I pray the Governor comes, and I can save you until then, and hand you
over to him safely.”
“And--yourself--?” she asked.
“I am not concerned about myself. Life means nothing to me, _señorita_,
when it does not hold your affection. Ah, do not turn away----”
“I am not turning away.”
“You have called me gambler, swindler, wronger of women. I swear I am
not the last, _señorita_, nor have I ever swindled a man. Yet I am
the notorious Captain Fly-by-Night, you say. I made a foolish boast
that was an insult to you and was ostracized by all at San Diego de
Alcalá--that is what I was told when I first came. I suffered--and you
were kind. I saw you--and I knew what love was. Can you conceive that
love would purify a man, _señorita_, make him over, make him regret
every mean and petty thing he had done in his life?”
“I--do not know.”
“We are in darkness here and you cannot see my face, but, if you could,
I’d not be afraid you could read deceit there now. I’d gladly die a
thousand deaths to save you a moment’s pain. I’d die ten thousand if I
could feel your lips on mine an instant, know that your heart was mine!
I often have laughed at love, but now I know its depth and sacredness.
_Dios!_ If there was but the slightest hope----”
Her hand tightened on his arm; her voice was the ghost of a whisper
when she answered:
“How do you know there is not?”
“You play with me!” he said.
“And why should I, caballero? Since you met me you have given me no
affront. Twice you have saved me----”
“It is gratitude makes you speak!”
“It is not gratitude, caballero. And, whatever it is, I have fought
against it in vain.”
“It is pity!”
“It is--is love,” she said.
“For me?”
“For you, caballero. I hated your name before you came to San Diego
de Alcalá. I hated you when you arrived. I tried to keep on hating
you, and could not. Ah, have pity and be kind to me! Father, mother,
friends--all are gone. There remains but you. Have pity--and be kind.”
“You need not offer me love to gain my protection, _señorita_. You have
that always.”
“Can you not understand? I loved you even before you rescued me this
day. When we were coming from the rancho I would have been glad had you
covered my face with kisses. That is immodest, perhaps, but I care not.
It seems that love only counts now.”
“But if I am Captain Fly-by-Night, a rogue and outcast----”
“I love you!”
“Spurned by loyal men and traitors alike----?”
“I love you!”
“The man who boasted he would win you, _señorita_----?”
“You have made good your boast--you have won--still I love you!” she
cried.
“_Dios!_ The saints are good at last! Ah, loved one, could I but see
your face now!”
“There would be no deceit in it, caballero. I love you! Have pity, and
be kind!”
“Kind! May the saints teach me new ways of kindness! We must live--we
must live now!”
He clasped her close, rained kisses on her face, felt her own lips
respond to his, knew that tears were streaming down her cheeks. In the
darkness that put night to shame they plighted troth, while the shrieks
of hostiles came to their ears, and the cracking of flames, and the
knowledge of violence and pain and death was in their minds. Yet in
their hearts was a song such as love always causes, and a new courage
to face whatever was to come....
“To the chapel--it is the only chance,” he said, after a time. “I pray
the Governor arrives soon!”
“And then--?” she asked. There was sudden fear in her heart for her
caballero. Had not the Governor ordered him taken alive or dead? Where
was the way out?
But he had no chance to answer. Behind them a shaft of light struck
into the tunnel; the shrieks came nearer. The hostiles had found the
opening at last. Now they advanced swiftly, pistols ready, holding
torches above their heads, crying vengeance on the caballero who had
slain their leader.
With the girl still clasped in his arms, he stumbled on through the
tunnel, making better progress than his pursuers since he had been
through it so often before. He stopped once to discharge his pistol and
check them for a moment, and then staggered on, bending low where the
tunnel was small, running at times, shielding the _señorita_ at the
sharp turns.
He stopped. Far behind were the cries of their pursuers; ahead was the
din of battle. The caballero peered through the crack into the mortuary
chapel and saw one wounded soldier there tying a bandage on his arm.
The door to the main part of the church was almost closed.
He hesitated only long enough to whisper instructions to the girl, then
tugged at the section of wall so that it swung inward. With a bound he
was in the chapel, his empty pistol menacing the trooper. Anita ran in
behind him.
“Hold!” the caballero cried. “Not a move, _señor_, else you die!”
Covering the soldier with the weapon, he went back and swung the
section of wall shut again. Then he whirled and advanced toward the
other man, drove him ahead, hurried him through the door into the main
body of the church and dropped the heavy bar.
“The last stand,” he laughed, clasping the girl to him again. “Foes
behind; foes ahead; here we fight it out, beloved!”
They could hear the wounded soldier screeching the news to soldiers and
frailes. Captain Fly-by-Night had appeared from nowhere in the mortuary
chapel; Señorita Anita was with him! She was in the power of Captain
Fly-by-Night!
But the caballero paid scant attention to the wails of the trooper he
had startled. He was working frantically to block the opening in the
wall. Benches, railings, adobe blocks, huge cubes of stone he tore from
their places and piled against the movable section of masonry. The
hostiles would have difficulty entering that way!
They heard the Indians in the tunnel screeching their anger at being
thus blocked. Light from their torches came through the crack. From
the main part of the church rolled the sound of volleys, the ringing
of blades, groans, screams. Someone was pounding on the door of the
mortuary chapel.
Anita Fernandez stood against the wall, breathing quickly, a whimsical
smile on her lips, something of timidity in her manner now, and watched
the man to whom she had given her kisses. For, despite danger and noise
of battle, the caballero sat on a block of stone and loaded his pistol
again--and as he loaded it he smiled and hummed a song.