"Such forethought?" exclaimed Rivas, as the landau went rattling along
the road with the speed of a war-chariot, "wonderful!" he went on. "Ah,
for cleverness, commend me to a woman--when her will's in it. We men
are but simpletons to them. My glorious Ysabel! She's the sort for a
soldier's wife. But don't let me be claiming all the credit for her.
Fair play to the Senorita Valverde; who has, I doubt not, done her share
of the contriving--on your account, Senor."
The Senor so spoken to had no doubt of it either, and would have been
grieved to think otherwise, but he was too busy at the moment to say
much, and only signified his assent in monosyllables. With head down,
and arms in see-sawing motion, he was endeavouring to cut their
coupling-chain; the tool he handled being a large file; another of the
"something" to be found under the cushions--as found it was! No wonder
Don Ruperto's enthusiastic admiration of the providence which had placed
it there.
Handy with workmen's tools as with warlike weapons, the young Irishman
had laid hold of it as soon as they were safe through the _garita_, and
was now rasping away with might and main; the other keeping the chain in
place.
It was not a task to be accomplished without time. The links were thick
as a man's finger, and would need no end of filing before they could be
parted. Still, there was little likelihood of their being interrupted
until it could be done. There was nobody on the road, and only here and
there some labourers at work in the adjoining fields, too busy to take
note of them, or what they were at. The sight of a passing carriage
would be nothing strange, and the horses going at a gallop would but
lead to the supposition of its being a party of "jovenes dorados"
driving out into the country, who had taken too much wine before
starting.
But, even though these poor proletarians knew all, there was nothing to
be apprehended for any action on their part. Conspiracies and
_pronunciamentos_ were not in their line; and the storm of revolution
might burst over their heads without their caring what way it went, or
even inquiring who was its promoter. So the escaping prisoners took
little pains to conceal what they were at. Speed was now more to their
purpose than strategy, and they were making their best of it, both to
get on along the road, and have their legs free for future action.
"We might have passed safely through that gate," said the Mexican, who
still continued to do the talking, "even had they known who we were."
"Indeed! how?"
"You saw that sergeant who saluted us?"
"Of course I did, and the grand salute he gave! He couldn't have made
it more impressive had it been the Commander-in-Chief of your army, or
the Dictator himself who was passing."
"And I fancy it was just something of the kind that moved him.
Doubtless, the livery of the coachman, which he would know to be that of
Don Ignacio Valverde."
"You think he got us through?"
"Yes. But it wouldn't have done so if he'd known what was up. Though
something else might--that is, his knowing _me_."
"Oh! he knows you?"
"He does; though I'm not sure he recognised me in passing, as I did him.
Odd enough, his being there just then. He was corporal in a company I
once commanded, and I believe liked me as his captain. He's an old
schemer, though; has turned his coat times beyond counting; and just as
well there's been no call for trusting him. He'll catch it for letting
us slip past without challenge; and serve him right, wearing the colours
he now does. Ha! they've waked up at last! I was expecting that."
It was the first gun at the citadel which called forth these
exclamations, soon followed by the ding-dong of the city bells.
"_Carrai_!" he continued, "we're no doubt being pursued now, and by
cavalry; some of those we saw in the procession. It begins to look bad.
Still, with so much start, and this fine pair of _frisones_, I've not
much fear of their overtaking us, till we reach the point I'm making
for; unless, indeed--"
"Unless what?" asked Kearney, seeing he had interrupted himself, and was
looking out apprehensively.
"That! There's your answer," said the Mexican, pointing to a puff of
smoke that had just shot out from the summit of an isolated hill on
which were batteries and buildings. "Chapultepec--a gun!" he added, and
the bang came instantly after.
"We'll have it hot enough now," he continued, in a tone telling of
alarm. "There's sure to be cavalry up yonder. If they're cleverly led,
and know which way to take, they may head us off yet, in spite of all we
can do. Lay on the whip," he shouted out to the coachman.
And the whip was laid on, till the horses galloped faster than ever,
leaving behind a cloud of dust, which extended back for more than a
mile.
The road they were on was the direct route to San Angel; and through
this village Rivas had intended going, as he had no reason to believe
there were troops stationed in it. But Chapultepec was nearer to it
than the point where they themselves were, and cavalry now starting from
the latter could easily reach San Angel before them. But there was a
branch road leading to Coyoacan, and as that would give them some
advantage, he determined on taking it.
And now another gun at the citadel, with the response from Chapultepec,
and, soon after, the third booming from both. But meanwhile, something
seen at the castle-crowned hill which deepened the anxious expression on
the face of the Mexican.
"_Santos Dios_!" he exclaimed; "just as I expected. Look yonder,
Senor!"
Kearney looked, to see a stream pouring out from the castle gates and
running down the steep causeway which zig-zags to the bottom of the
hill. A stream of men in uniform, by their square crowned shakos and
other insignia, recognisable as Lancers. They had neither weapons nor
horses with them; but both, as Rivas knew, would be at the _Cuartel_ and
stables below. He also knew that the _Lanzeros_ were trained soldiers--
a petted arm of the service--and it would not take them long to "boot
and saddle."
More than ever was his look troubled now, still not despairing. He had
his hopes and plans.
"Drop your file, Senor," he said hurriedly; "no time to finish that now.
We must wait for a better opportunity. And we'll have to leave the
carriage behind; but not just yet."
By this they had arrived at the embouchure of the branch road coming out
from Cayocaon, into which by his direction the horses were headed, going
on without stop or slackening of speed. And so for nearly another mile;
then he called out to those on the box to bring up.
Rock, anticipating something of the sort, instantly reined in, and the
carriage came to a stand. At which the two inside sprang out upon the
road, Kearney calling to the Texan--
"Drop the reins, Cris! Down; unhitch the horses. Quick!"
And quick came he down, jerking the dwarf after, who fell upon all
fours; as he recovered his feet, looking as if he had lost his senses.
No one heeded him or his looks; the hurry was too great even to stay for
unbuckling.
"Cut everything off!" cried Kearney, still speaking to Rock. "Leave on
only the bridles."
With the knife late put into his hands the Texan went to work, Kearney
himself plying the other, while Rivas held the horses and unhooked the
bearing reins.
Soon pole-pieces and hame-straps were severed; and the frisones led
forward left all behind, save the bridles and collars.
"Leave the collars on," said Rivas, seeing there was no time to detach
them. "Now we mount two and two; but first to dispose of him."
The "him" was Jose, still seated on the box, apparently in a state of
stupor.
"Pull him down, Cris! Tie him to the wheel!" commanded Kearney. "The
driving reins will do it."
The Texan knew how to handle tying gear, as all Texans do, and in a
trice the unresisting cochero was dragged from his seat and bound,
Ixion-like, to one of the carriage wheels.
But Rock had not done with him yet. There was a necessity for something
more, which looked like wanton cruelty--as they wished it to look. This
was the opening of the poor fellow's mouth, and gagging him with the
stock of his own whip!
So, rendered voiceless and helpless, he saw the four forzados,
two-and-two, get upon his horses and ride off, the only one who
vouchsafed to speak a parting word being the dwarf--he calling back in a
jocular way--
"_Adios, Senor cochero_! May your journey be as pleasant as your coach
is slow. Ha, ha, ha!"