INTO THE OPEN.
Señor Zorro fought the battle of his life, after the little _señorita_
had gone and the door had been closed and barred, to keep from showing
his elation in his face.
His hands now would be free at any time he wished to drop the ends of
the cords that bound his wrists. He had a weapon hidden in the sash
about his waist. Given those minor advantages, Señor Zorro felt that he
could disconcert his enemies again, else fail to be Zorro.
But the expression in his face did not change as he walked slowly
around the room and finally came to a stop before the window and
glanced across the clearing and the beach toward the glistening water
of the bay. He looked like a man devoid of all hope, expecting the
worst.
Not so very far away was a small hut, before the one door of which
two of the pirates sat on guard. Señor Zorro was well aware of the
fact that the weapons of the captured _caballeros_, and those of their
comrades who had been slain, were in there, and that his own beloved
sword was there also, waiting to be claimed by him.
And, as he watched, Sanchez rode wildly into the clearing on a
magnificent horse, undoubtedly stolen from some great _hacienda_.
Barbados’s lieutenant dismounted and allowed the animal to wander near
the hut while he hurried in search of the pirate chief with some report.
These things Señor Zorro saw quickly, and then he hurried back to the
door that opened into the other room. It was barred, and locked with a
strong lock, and Zorro had no tools with which to open it. He could not
unfasten it and release his friends, but he could hold speech with them.
He made certain that nobody was near the window to overhear, and then
kicked against the door to attract the attention of the _caballeros_.
“Audre!” he called, in a guarded voice.
There was silence for a moment, and then he heard a whisper from the
other side of the door.
“_Sí?_”
“I have another chance, Audre. The _señorita_ has cut my bonds and
given me a dagger. It is a poor weapon, but better than none. It would
avail us nothing for me to let you out if I could, for the pirates
greatly outnumber us. But I can try to escape and ride to San Diego de
Alcála for troopers.”
“Good, Diego, my friend!”
“I know not what may happen before I am able to return. Ramón is in the
camp and up to some sort of deviltry. But, should you escape, look to
the _señorita_!”
“Be assured of that!” Don Audre replied.
“If I can do so, when I escape I’ll take her with me. If not, I’ll
return with the troopers as swiftly as possible. The saints be with
you!”
“And with you!” Don Audre Ruiz returned.
Señor Zorro walked slowly away from the door and approached the window
again. The horse Sanchez had been riding was now but a short distance
from the adobe building. The two guards were squatted before the hut
wherein the captured weapons had been stored, drinking and talking.
Other pirates were in the distance, walking around, stretched in the
shade of the huts, gambling, shouting, quarreling.
Señor Zorro knew well that it would profit nothing to get those weapons
in the hut, for the _caballeros_ could not be liberated quickly, and so
the element of surprise in an attack would be lost. Moreover, were they
liberated and their swords in their hands, they would only be cut down
by the pirate crew after they had taken some toll.
Señor Zorro wanted his own sword, but did not know whether there would
be time for him to get possession of it. He would not dare stop to
attack the two guards, for the other pirates would rush up and endanger
his chance for escape. It would be far better, he decided quickly, to
seize the horse and ride with what speed he could toward the distant
village of San Diego de Alcála, get help there at the _presidio_, and
return to the work of rescue with an armed force behind him.
Back to the door he hurried.
“Audre!” he called, softly.
“_Sí?_”
“Raise a din in there, create a bedlam of a sort, and ’twill help me
vastly. Pretend to be fighting among yourselves.”
He did not have very long to wait. He could hear Don Audre Ruiz
whispering instructions to the other _caballeros_, and almost instantly
they began shrieking at one another, pounding on the heavy door, making
a bedlam of noise. Señor Zorro hurried across to the outside window and
called to the guards before the hut.
“Come here!” he shouted. “The prisoners are fighting and slaying one
another!”
But they refused to leave their posts, as Señor Zorro had hoped they
would do. Instead, they shrieked the news at Barbados, who was not
far away, and he ran toward the adobe building followed by Sanchez
and half a dozen of the men. They unbarred the door and burst in upon
Señor Zorro, who stood back against the wall gazing at the door of
the adjoining room, as though trying to decide what was taking place
inside. From the other side of that door came shrieks and cries and the
sounds of blows.
“Fiends of hell!” Barbados swore. “They will slay one another, and then
there will be neither torture nor ransom! Unfasten that door and stand
ready to drive them back if they try to make an escape. And two of you
guard that outside door also!”
One glance he flung at Señor Zorro, to find him standing against the
wall as if his attention were concentrated on the other room. But as
Barbados turned toward the door again Señor Zorro shifted along the
wall for a distance of a few feet, and glanced toward the door through
which he would have to go to freedom.
He waited until the other door was about to be thrown open, until the
pirates in the room had their attention centered there, and then Señor
Zorro dropped the severed cords from his wrists, wriggled his fingers
for an instant to restore the circulation of blood, and suddenly
brought his hands around in front of him and tore the dagger from his
sash, where the little _señorita_ had put it.
Forward he hurled himself, just as the other door was opened. He took
the two men before him by surprise. One he hurled aside; the other he
was forced to wound slightly to get him out of the way. Past them he
dashed, even as they shrieked the intelligence that he was escaping.
Out into the open he darted and straight toward the horse that Sanchez
had ridden into the clearing. He would have no difficulty in getting
to the horse, he saw. But his escape was all that he could negotiate.
A glance told him that the _señorita_ was not in sight, and he had no
time to search the entire camp for her.
The pirates were rushing toward him from every side, attracted by the
tumult. Barbados, behind him, was shrieking commands and foul oaths.
The dagger held between his teeth, Señor Zorro dodged the two men
before the hut and vaulted into the saddle, kicked at the animal’s
flanks, and was away.
Behind him a pistol barked, but the ball flew wild, and he could hear
the insane roar of rage that Barbados gave because he had missed the
target. It was a flying target now. Señor Zorro bent low over the
horse’s neck and kicked frantically at the animal’s flanks again.
Straight across the clearing he guided the animal, toward the trail
that ran to the crest of the slope.
Another pistol roared behind him, but he did not even hear the shrill
whistling of the flying ball. He wished that he might make a search for
the _señorita_, but he was afraid that capture might result if he tried
it. And were he captured again Barbados would make short work of him.
It were better to get away free and return later to rescue.
He was approaching the edge of the camp now. He knew that there were
some mounts with saddles and bridles on, and that there might be a
pursuit. Once over the crest, he would have a chance. The pirates would
not dare follow him too close to San Diego de Alcála, and that was only
eight miles away.
And then he saw, just ahead of him, Captain Ramón. The _commandante_
was drinking from a bottle and talking to some women of the camp. He
whirled around when he heard the mad pounding of the horse’s hoofs, and
Señor Zorro saw his face go white as he struggled to get his sword from
its scabbard. The _commandante_ had recognized him.
The women shrieked and fled. Captain Ramón, his sword out, stood his
ground. Straight toward him Señor Zorro raced his horse, bending
forward, his dagger held in his right hand again. Now he wished he had
his beloved sword!
But Ramón sprang out of the way just in time and swung his blade in a
vicious blow. It missed Señor Zorro and struck the horse on the rump,
inflicting a minor cut. It had the effect, however, of frightening the
animal more. Up the slope he raced, and Señor Zorro sat straight in the
saddle and shrieked at the top of his voice:
“_Atención!_ A _caballero’s_ near――”
It was not merely in a spirit of bravado. It was to let the little
_señorita_ know, if she did not already, that he was free and riding
wildly for help.