ZORRO STRIKES.
At the _hacienda_ of Don Carlos Pulido the outer door was opened
slowly, stealthily. A villainous face showed. Then the door was thrown
open wide and half a dozen men stormed into the room. Doña Catalina
gave a shriek of fear and sprang backward, and as the little _señorita_
rushed to her, clasped her in her arms. Don Carlos looked up quickly
from a garment he had been inspecting and sprang to his feet.
“Pirates!” he roared.
The aged don seemed to renew his youth with the cry. He darted back
against the wall, shrieking for his servants and his men, his hand
darting to the blade that happened to be at his side. But the surprise
was complete, and there was no hope of a victory over the pirate crew.
Servants rushed in loyally, to be cut down. Doña Catalina and Lolita
crouched in a corner, the aged don standing protectingly before them.
Sanchez made for him, seeing the girl. The pirate laughed, attacked
like a fiend, and Don Carlos went down before he could give a wound.
Doña Catalina’s shriek rang in his ears. Then there came another shriek
as Señorita Lolita felt herself being torn from her mother’s arms.
Sanchez whirled her behind him, and another of the pirates clutched her
in his arms.
“Easy with the wench!” Sanchez cried. “She is to be saved for some
great man!”
The little _señorita_ struggled and fought, her gentleness gone in the
face of this emergency. Horror claimed her and almost destroyed her
reason. She had heard whispered wild tales of what happened to women
captured by pirates.
Out of the house she was carried, shrieking in her fear. The pirates
poured out, too. Some of the outbuildings were ablaze now, and the
shrieking, swearing crew was looting the house for what valuables could
be carried easily.
Men of the _hacienda_ came running, to be cut down with a laugh. More
huts were set ablaze. Pirates came running from the house, carrying
jewels, silks, satins. Señorita Lolita realized dimly that her wedding
garments had been ruined by these men.
“Diego!” she moaned. “Diego!”
Horses were procured, her father’s blooded stock, and she was lashed to
the back of one. The pirates mounted others, and Sanchez urged them on
their way toward the distant sea. He had orders to get there before the
dawn, and he feared Barbados too much to disobey his orders.
Señorita Lolita glanced back once, to see flames pouring from the doors
and windows of the home she had loved. She thought of the father she
had seen cut down, of her tender mother. And then she slumped forward
in a swoon, and Sanchez steadied her in the saddle.
Two men of the _hacienda_ carried Don Carlos Pulido from his burning
home and placed him down at a distance beneath a tree. Doña Catalina
knelt beside him, weeping.
“Find a horse!” the aged don commanded one of the men. “Ride like a
fiend to the town, and tell Don Diego Vega of this. As you love the
_señorita_, spare neither yourself nor your mount! Ride――do not bother
with me!”
And so the man found a horse and rode away toward the town, going like
the wind, and so the news came to Don Diego Vega.
The _señorita_, coming from her swoon, found that the pirates were
traveling at a high rate of speed. Mile by mile they cut down the
distance to the sea. There was an excellent trail used by traders, and
Sanchez followed it swiftly.
It was like a nightmare to the little _señorita_. Again she wondered at
the fate of her father and her mother. Again, mentally, she called upon
Don Diego Vega to save her.
But her proud blood had returned to her now. She curled her pretty lips
in scorn when Sanchez addressed her, and would make no reply. Her eyes
snapped and flashed as she contemplated him. Her tiny chin tilted at an
insulting angle. She was a Pulido, and she remembered it. Whatever fate
held in store for her, she would be a Pulido to the end.
And finally, after some hours, they rounded a bend of a hill and saw
the sea ahead of them, and the mouth of the dark cañon that ran down
into it. Sanchez dismounted them beside the curving cliff. The loot
was piled on the sand, the horses were turned adrift. Señorita Lolita
was forced to dismount. Her wrists were lashed behind her, and she was
compelled to sit on the ground with her back to the cliff’s wall.
Some of the pirates lighted a fire of driftwood. Sanchez stood looking
out to sea, watching for the ship that soon would be due.
And then came Barbados and the pirates from the town.
“Fair loot!” Barbados cried as Sanchez questioned. “But we were
outdone. Some devilish _caballeros_ were having a supper, and we
stumbled upon them, twice our number. But we have fair loot! And you
have the girl!”
“_Sí!_ We have the girl!” Sanchez replied.
Barbados walked over to her. “A pretty wench!” he declared. “Small
wonder a man wished to have you stolen! Proud, are you? Ha! We’ll see
what pride you have remaining by the end of the next moon!”
He whirled to look over the camp. “Sanchez,” he commanded, “put a
sentinel up on top of the cliff. I do not expect pursuit, but it is
best to be prepared. I ran across that fiend of a Zorro, and he marked
me. But there are not horses enough left in town for himself and his
friends, and he would not dare follow alone. Nevertheless, put a
sentinel on the cliff.”
Sanchez obeyed. A man mounted to the top. On the level stretch of sand
before them they could see his shadow in the moonlight as he paced
slowly back and forth. Back and forth he went, while Señorita Lolita
sat and watched the shadow and shivered to think of what was to come.
Barbados and Sanchez prepared the loot for the ship’s boats when they
should come. There was an abundance of wine, and the pirates began
drinking it. They shouted and laughed and sang, while the little
_señorita_ shuddered and watched the shadow of the sentinel as it went
back and forth, back and forth.
And suddenly she bent forward, for there were two shadows now. Hope
sang in her breast. One of the shadows was creeping upon the other.
“Diego!” she breathed. “If it could only be Diego!”
The moon was dropping, was at the point where the shadows were
lengthened, grotesque. And suddenly Sanchez gave a cry and pointed
to the stretch of sand. Barbados turned to look. The pirates stopped
drinking and crowded forward.
There on the sandy stretch a picture was being enacted. They saw the
silhouettes of two men fighting, thrusting and slashing at each other.
From above came the ringing of blades that met with violence.
The pirates sprang back, tried to look up and ascertain what was taking
place there. The shadows disappeared from the sand for a time as the
combatants reeled back from the edge of the cliff.
“Above, some of you!” Barbados cried.
They started――and stopped. Down the face of the cliff came tumbling the
body of the pirate sentinel. It struck the sand, and Barbados and the
others crowded forward to see.
“By the saints!” Barbados swore.
His little eyes bulged. On the cheek of the dead pirate sentinel was a
freshly-carved Z.
“Barbados! Look!” Sanchez cried.
He pointed to the body. Fastened to the man’s belt with a thorn was a
scrap of parchment.
Barbados went forward gingerly and plucked it off. On it were words,
evidently traced in blood with the point of a blade. Barbados read them
swiftly:
_Señores!_ Have you ever seen this one?