Disagreeable as was their job, some of the _forzados_ made light of it,
bandying jests with the street passengers, who did not find it safe to
go too near them. A scoopful of the inky liquid could be flung so as to
spoil the polish on boots, or sent its splashes over apparel still
higher. Even the vigilance of the sentries could not prevent this, or
rather they cared not to exercise it. The victims of such practical
jokes were usually either of the class _felado_, or the yet more humble
aboriginals, accustomed to be put upon by the soldiers themselves, who
rather relished the fun.
But only the more abandoned of the gaol-birds behaved in this way, many
of them seeming to feel the degradation more than aught else. For among
them, as we know, were men who should not have been there. Some may
have seen friends passing by, who gave them looks of sympathy or pity,
and possibly more than one knew himself under eyes whose expression told
of a feeling stronger than either of these--love itself. Indeed this
last, or something akin to it, seemed the rule rather than the
exception. In Mexico, he must be a deeply disgraced criminal whose
sweetheart would be ashamed of him; and every now and then, a
brown-skinned "muchacha" might be seen crossing to where the scavengers
were at work, and, with a muttered word or two, passing something into a
hand eagerly outstretched to receive it. The sentries permitted this,
after examining the commodity so tendered, and seeing it a safe thing to
be entrusted to the receiver. These gifts of friendship, or _gages
d'amour_, were usually eatables from the nearest cook-shop; their donors
well knowing that the fare of the Acordada was neither plentiful nor
sumptuous.
But beyond these interested ones, few of the pedestrians stopped or even
looked at the chain-gang. To most, if not all, it was an ordinary
spectacle, and attracted no more attention than would a crossing-sweeper
on a London street. Not as much as the latter, as he is often an
Oriental. On that particular day, however, the party of scavengers
presented a novelty, in having the two Tejanos in it; with a yet greater
one in the odd juxtaposition of Cris Rock and his diminutive "mate." In
Mexico, a man over six feet in height is a rarity, and as Cris exceeded
this by six inches, a rarer sight still was he. The colossus coupled to
the dwarf, as Gulliver to Lilliputian--a crooked Lilliputian at that--no
wonder that a knot of curious gazers collected around them, many as they
approached the grotesque spectacle uttering ejaculations of surprise.
"_Ay Dios_!" exclaimed one. "_Gigante y enano_!" (a giant and a
dwarf)--"and chained together! Who ever saw the like?"
Such remarks were continually passing among the spectators, who laughed
as they listened to them. And though the Texan could not tell what they
said, their laughter "riled" him. He supposed it a slur upon his
extraordinary stature, of which he was himself no little proud, while
they seemed to regard it sarcastically. Could they have had translated
to them the rejoinders that now and then came from his lips, like the
rumbling of thunder, they would have felt their sarcasm fully paid back,
with some change over. As a specimen:--
"Devil darn ye, for a set of yaller-jawed pigmies! Ef I hed about a
millyun o' ye out in the open purairu, I'd gie you somethin' to larf at.
Dod-rot me! ef I don't b'lieve a pack o' coycoats ked chase as many o'
ye as they'd count themselves; and arter runnin' ye down 'ud scorn to
put tooth into yur stinkin' carcasses!"
Fortunately for him, the "yaller-jawed pigmies" understood not a word of
all this; else, notwithstanding his superior size and strength, he might
have had rough handling from them. Without that, he was badly plagued
by their behaviour, as a bull fretted with flies; which may have had
something to do with his readiness to go down into the drain. There, up
to his elbows, he was less conspicuous, and so less an object of
curiosity.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
It had got to be noon, with the sun at fire heat; but for all the
_forzados_ were kept on at work. No rest for them until the task should
be completed, and they taken back to their prison quarters at a late
hour of the afternoon. The cruel gaoler told them so in a jeering way.
He seemed to take a pleasure in making things disagreeable to them, as
he strutted to and fro along their line, flourishing his _quirt_, and
giving grand exhibition of his "brief authority."
A little after midday, however, there came a change in their favour,
brought by unlooked-for circumstances. Groups of people began to gather
in the Calle de Plateros, swarming into it from side streets, and taking
stand upon the foot-walk. Soon they lined it all along as far as the
eye could reach. Not _pelados_, but most of them belonging to a class
respectable, attired in their holiday clothes, as on a _dia de fiesta_.
Something of this it was, as the scavengers were presently told, though
some of them may have had word of it before without feeling any concern
about it. Two, however, whom it did concern--though little dreamt they
of its doing so--were only made aware of what the crowd was collecting
for, when it began to thicken. These were Kearney and Rivas, who,
knowing the language of the country, could make out from what was being
said around them that there was to be a _funcion_. The foundation-stone
of a new church was to be laid in the suburb of San Cosme the chief
magistrate of the State himself to lay it--with all ceremony and a
silver trowel. The procession, formed in the Plaza Grande, would, of
course, pass through the Calle de Plateros; hence the throng of the
people in that street.
_Funcions_ and _fiestas_ are of such frequent occurrence in the Mexican
metropolis--as indeed everywhere else in that land of the _far niente_--
that this, an ordinary one and not much announced, excited no particular
interest, save in the suburb of San Cosme itself--a quarter where a
church might be much needed, being a very den of disreputables. Still,
a large number of people had put on their best apparel, and sallied
forth to witness the procession.
This did not delay long in showing itself. It came heralded by the
stirring notes of a trumpet, then the booming of the big drum in a band
of music--military. A troop of cavalry--Lancers--formed the advance, to
clear the way for what was to follow; this being a couple of carriages,
in which were seated the Bishop of Mexico and his ecclesiastical staff,
all in grand, gaudy raiments; on such an occasion the Church having
precedence, and the post of honour.
Behind came the gilded coach of the Dictator--flanked on each side by
guards in gorgeous uniform--himself in it. Not alone, but with one
seated by his side, whose presence there caused Florence Kearney
surprise, great as he ever experienced in his life. Despite the coat of
diplomatic cut and its glittering insignia, he easily recognised his
_ci-devant_ teacher of the Spanish tongue--Don Ignacio Valverde.
But great as was his astonishment, he was left no time to indulge in it,
or speculate how his old "crammer" came to be there. For close behind
the Dictator's carriage followed another, holding one who had yet more
interest for him than Don Ignacio--Don Ignacio's daughter!