While the ladies set down upon the street were still plaintively
appealing to those around, the carriage from which they had been so
unceremoniously ejected was tearing along the Calle de San Francisco,
going direct for the Acordada! But nothing could be farther from the
thoughts of those in it than a return to that grand gaol, or even
approaching its door. All of them knew there was a regular guard there;
and instead of a single musket missing fire, they would more likely be
saluted with a full volley, sending a shower of bullets about their
ears. Bad marksmen as the Mexican soldiers are, they could not all
miss. But even if they passed through that unscathed, beyond was the
_garita_ of San Cosme, with another guard there. Indeed, go what way
they would, there was none leading out into the country without a
_garita_ to be got through--and for the country they were aiming.
In these gates, however, there was a difference as to the strength of
their guard detail, and the possibilities of their being passed. All of
which one of the fugitives well understood--Rivas, who, as a matter of
course, had assumed direction of everything relating to their flight.
When opposite the old convent, which gives its name to the street, he
leaned his head out of the carriage window, and said to the _cochero_:--
"Take the route by El Nino Perdido. You know the way; show it to him."
The "him" was Cris Rock, who still had hold of the reins, and who, not
understanding Spanish, could not be addressed direct.
The result of the order was, that shortly after, the horses were headed
into a side street, indicated to the Texan by a nod perceptible only to
himself. It would not do for the real coachman to appear as aiding
their escape; though there was no danger of the dwarf observing it--the
latter having been crammed down into the boot--where he was held with
his head between Rock's huge thighs, as in a vice.
The street into which they had turned was a narrow one running along a
dead wall--that of the ancient monastery, which occupies acres of
ground. And in its strip of sidewalk just then there was not a
pedestrian to be seen--the very thing Rivas had been wishing for. Again
speaking out, he said:--
"Slowly for a bit. I see a _seraph_ out there. Tell the Tejanos to put
it on."
For the next hundred yards or so--along the dead wall--the horses went
at a walk, they inside the carriage, as also one on the box, all the
while busy as bees. And when they came out at the end of the quiet
street entering upon a more frequented thoroughfare, the brisk pace was
resumed; though no one could have believed it the same party, seen but a
minute or two before driving at a racecourse speed along the Calle de
Plateros. Jose alone looked the same, in his sky-blue livery and
cockaded hat. But the big man by his side had so far effected a change
that his mud-stained habiliments were hidden under an ample _seraph_,
which covered him from neck to ankles; while the little one was
altogether invisible, and under a threat of having his skull kicked in
if he attempted to show himself.
Alike quick and complete had been the transformation of the "insides."
There now sat two gentlemen, decently, indeed rather stylishly dressed--
one wearing a blue cloth cloak with velvet collar; the other a scarlet
"manga," with gold bullion embroidery from neck to shoulders.
About the equipage there was little now to make remark upon, or cause it
to be regarded with suspicion. Some rich _haciendado_, who had been at
the laying of the foundation-stone, on return to his country house,
taking a friend along with him. The strapping fellow on the box might
be mayor-domo of the estate--they are usually tall men--who had taken a
fancy to try his hand at driving, and the coachman had surrendered him
the reins. All perfectly natural, and _en regle_, even to the rapid
speed at which the horses were put. The driver not accustomed to
handling the ribbons would account for this. Besides, the sun was
getting low, the _casa de campo_ might be a good distance from town, and
such a splendid turnout, belated on a country road would be like
tempting Providence, and certainly the _salteadores_!
How little would its occupants have regarded an encounter with
highwaymen. Perhaps just then they would have welcomed it. Nor much
did Rivas anticipate further trouble in the streets of the city. He was
familiar with those they were now driving along, and felt no fear of
being obstructed there--at least by the people. Had they hung their
chain out of the carriage window and exposed the prison dress, no one in
that quarter would have cried "Stop thief!" The man who should so cry,
would run the risk of having his clamour suddenly silenced.
For all they had apprehensions of the keenest. If they were in no
danger while in the streets, they would be when parting from them--at El
Nino Perdido. That gauntlet had yet to be run.
But while thinking of it, they had not been idle; instead, all the while
planning and preparing for it; Rivas instructing the others as to how
they should act.
"A _garita_ of the usual kind," he said to Kearney, making known the
nature of the anticipated obstruction; "a gate across the road, with a
guard-house alongside. There's sure to be a sergeant and eight or ten
files in it. If, by good luck, the gate be open, our best way will be
to approach gently, then go through at a gallop. If shut, we'll be
called upon to show our best diplomacy. Leave all that to me. Failing
to fool the guard, we must do battle with it. Anything's better than be
taken back to the Acordada. That would be sure death for me; and, if I
mistake not, for yourself, Senor."
"I'm sure of it. If we can't get through without, let us fight our way,
whatever the result."
"Take this pair, then. They seem the most reliable. You _Americanos_
are more skilled in the use of fire-arms than we. With us steel is
preferred. But I'll do the best I can with the other pair."
This had reference to two pairs of pistols discovered under the carriage
cushions. Nor were they the only weapons there; besides them were two
long-bladed knives, and a pearl-handled stiletto--the last a tiny
affair, which looked as though taken from the toilet case of a lady.
"See that yours are loaded and in firing order," Rivas added, at the
same time looking to his own.
The injunction was not needed, as the Irishman was already examining the
weapons put into his hand, with a view to their efficiency.
Both pair of pistols were of the old-fashioned duelling kind--
flintlocks, with barrels nearly a foot in length. Like as not the
Condesa's father and Don Ignacio Valverde, in days long gone by, had
vindicated honour with them.
The inspection was quick and short, as had been all that preceded; pans
sprung open, showing them filled with powder; rammers run into the
barrels, then drawn out again, and replaced in their thimbles.
"Mine," said Kearney, first to report, "are good for two lives."
"And mine the same," rejoined Rivas, "unless I'm laid low before I can
pull the second trigger. Now to dispose of the knives. My countryman,
the _cochero_, however trustworthy, mustn't show fight. That would ruin
all afterwards. But, if I mistake not, your colossal comrade is the man
to make play with one of them in a pinch."
"You may be sure of it. He was in the Alamo with Bowie, and at Goliad
with Fanning. Don't fear putting a knife into his hands; he'll make
good use of it if we're driven to close quarters."
"Let him have it, then. You give it, and tell him all."
Kearney getting hold of one of the two knives, that seeming best suited
for the hands he designed putting it in, passed it on to Cris Rock--not
through the carriage window, but a hole cut in the leathern hood by the
blade itself. Speaking through the same, he said--
"Cris! we've got to run a gate where there's a guard of soldiers--maybe
a dozen or so. You're to drive gently up, and, if you see it open, pass
through--then lay on the whip. Should it be shut, approach more
briskly, and pull up impatient-like. But do nothing of yourself--wait
till I give you the word."
"Trust me, Cap; ye kin do that, I kilk'late."
"I can, Cris. Take this knife, and if you hear pistols cracking behind,
you'll then know what to do with it."
"I gie a guess, anyhow," rejoined the Texan, taking hold of the knife,
in a hand passed behind him. Then bringing it forward and under his
eyes, he added, "'Taint sech a bad sort o' blade eyther, tho' I weesh
'twas my ole bowie they took from me at Mier. Wal, Cap; ye kin count on
me makin' use o't, ef 'casion calls, an' more'n one yaller-belly gittin'
it inter his guts; notwithstandin' this durnation clog that's swinging
at my legs. By the jumping Geehosophat, if I ked only git shet o' that
I'd--"
What he would do or intended saying, had to stay unsaid. Rivas
interrupted him, pulling Kearney back, and telling him to be ready with
the pistols. For they were nearing the place of danger.