HELPLESSNESS.
On the occasion of this meeting it was Señor Zorro who was properly
astonished instead of his foe. Captain Ramón had been the last person
he had seen at the pirates’ camp; he had ridden at great speed, and
yet here was the _commandante_ ahead of him at the _presidio_ in San
Diego de Alcála.
But it did not take Señor Zorro long to guess that the captain had
taken advantage of some short cut across the country and so had arrived
at the _presidio_ first. And, since he was here, Señor Zorro found
himself in something of a predicament.
For weapons he had only the short dagger and his courage. The element
of surprise upon which he generally depended so much was acting against
him instead of for him in this present encounter; but he did not
despair.
He took two quick steps forward, and the dagger suddenly was in his
right hand. He glanced quickly at the lieutenant, who had picked up his
sword from the long table and was drawing it from the scabbard, and
then whirled toward Captain Ramón, who already had his sword ready for
use.
“So!” Señor Zorro cried. “You got here ahead of me, did you? Renegade
and traitor!”
“’Tis you who are the renegade and traitor!” Captain Ramón declared.
“Friend of pirates!”
“Ha! So that is the tale you have told?” Señor Zorro gasped.
“Lieutenant, I am Don Diego Vega, of Reina de Los Angeles. Perhaps you
have heard the name?”
“The lieutenant also has heard of Señor Zorro, and knows that he and
Don Diego Vega are one and the same man,” Captain Ramón said before
the other officer could reply. Captain Ramón felt some small degree of
courage now, since Señor Zorro had no weapon except his short dagger.
“Ha! Who has not heard of Zorro?” came the reply. “And it is not to be
expected that one of his excellency’s officers would go far out of his
regular way to do Señor Zorro a service. Yet an officer will serve his
duty, and there are certain things to be considered, lieutenant. In a
pirate camp a few miles from this place is a _señorita_ of proper blood
and several _caballeros_ who must be rescued before they are tortured.
I have ridden here for help, having made an escape.”
“Made your escape?” Captain Ramón cried. “You came purposely with the
story to lead the soldiers into a trap, you mean. Your story will avail
you nothing, Señor Zorro. The lieutenant already is planning to ride
to the rescue of his men. But you will remain here, a prisoner in the
guardroom, in a maniac’s shirt――”
“Ha!” Señor Zorro shrieked. “Lieutenant, make no mistake about it. This
Captain Ramón may outrank you, but he is a traitor, and I would have
all honest men know it. He is in league with the pirates himself.”
“You scarcely can expect me to believe that,” the lieutenant replied,
smiling.
“It is the truth, by the saints! He is planning to lead your men into
an ambush, no doubt!”
“I think that we have had enough of this nonsense, Don Diego!” the
lieutenant said, his official manner upon him.
“You believe Captain Ramón in preference to me?”
“I do! You are to consider yourself a prisoner, Don Diego. You’ll be
held here safe until the rescue has been accomplished, and then there
will be an investigation of this entire affair.”
“It will not be necessary for you to keep me a prisoner,” Señor Zorro
replied, his eyes narrowing. “Lead your own soldiers, as you will, and
be quick about it, and do not listen to the advice of Captain Ramón.
The _señorita_ who is held a captive is my betrothed. Her name is
Lolita Pulido. At least allow me to remain free to aid in her rescue.”
“I cannot forget that you are Señor Zorro as well as Don Diego Vega,
and that the Pulido family does not have the friendship of the
Governor,” the lieutenant answered. “Captain Ramón has preferred a
charge against you also. You remain in the _presidio_ a prisoner.”
The lieutenant picked up a silver whistle from the table, and started
to put it to his lips to blow a blast that would call his orderly. But
Señor Zorro, it appeared, had no intention of being kept a prisoner. He
glanced swiftly toward Captain Ramón again, and then darted forward.
The lieutenant’s whistle was knocked from his left hand, but Señor
Zorro did not succeed in getting possession of the officer’s sword as
he hurled him aside. He dashed on to the wall, struck it and whirled
away, and came back with considerable momentum. Captain Ramón had
started toward the door.
But as he put out a hand to pull the door open Señor Zorro grasped a
small stool that stood at one end of the long table and hurled it with
precise aim. It struck the captain’s arm and caused him to recoil with
a cry of pain.
The lieutenant was young, and enjoyed the recklessness of his youth.
He bellowed his challenge and charged. Señor Zorro caught his sword
against the dagger and warded off the blow. But, to do so, he was
compelled to give some ground, and so Captain Ramón got to the door and
opened it.
“Troopers!” he cried. “Help! This way! Your _commandante_ is attacked!”
Señor Zorro fenced the lieutenant for a moment, but he knew well that
he could not do so for long with any great degree of success. And
suddenly he dropped to his knees, and the lieutenant, lunging with his
blade, tripped over him and sprawled on the floor. Zorro was upon his
feet again before Captain Ramón could reach his side. Again he whirled,
and Captain Ramón recoiled against the wall, his sword advanced, his
left arm stretched out across a wood panel.
Señor Zorro did not care to encounter the long blade with his dagger;
besides, he heard the soldiers coming. His arm flashed, and the dagger
flew through the air. Through the sleeve of Captain Ramón’s uniform
coat went the sharp blade, to be driven almost to the hilt in the wood
beyond. The captain was held safely for the moment.
There was one large window in the officer’s room, and it was swinging
open. Zorro dashed for it, reached it, sprang up as the wondering
troopers rushed in through the door. Through the window Señor Zorro
plunged, sprawled on the ground for an instant, and then was upon his
feet again and running with renewed vigor toward the front of the
building.
But disaster waited for him there. The horse he had ridden had been
jaded, and a soldier had taken the mount to the rear to rub it down.
Zorro found his horse gone, and that of Captain Ramón also. The
troopers in front of the _presidio_ were in their saddles. And they
surrounded the unmounted horses of those who had rushed inside in
answer to the captain’s call.
Señor Zorro turned immediately to flee. But the shrieks from inside
the _presidio_ told the troopers what was happening. They forced
their mounts forward, ran Señor Zorro down, cut off his flight, and
surrounded him. For a moment there was a pretty battle; but the
troopers did not strike to slay, not understanding, quite, the status
of this man who seemed to have run amuck. However, they prevented an
escape.
The lieutenant shrieked from the window, demanding an immediate
capture. Señor Zorro made one last attempt to escape. He darted
beneath the belly of a horse, got outside the circle of troopers, and
dashed away. He reached the corner of the low building and went up
it as a fly goes up a wall, using the rough masonry of the corner as
stepping-stones.
Across the roof he darted, while the soldiers urged their horses
forward again in an effort to surround the building. Down the other
side of the roof he ran, skipping across the Spanish tiles until he
reached the eaves.
Below him was his horse, and the hostler was wiping one of the animal’s
forelegs. Señor Zorro did not hesitate. He crouched and sprang, and
landed in the saddle. The hostler rolled to one side in fright as the
animal lurched forward.
Señor Zorro whirled the beast toward the highway. But he saw at a
glance that there was small chance of escape. The mount he bestrode was
almost exhausted, and the troopers had fresh mounts. And they were upon
him with a rush.
Weaponless, he could do nothing. They charged around him, pulled him
down from the saddle, made him prisoner, and then marched him back to
the entrance of the _presidio_, where the lieutenant and Captain Ramón
were waiting.
“The maniac’s shirt for him!” the lieutenant commanded. “Put him into
it and then into the guardroom. Two men will remain behind to see that
he does not escape. But I scarcely think that even Señor Zorro can
escape the maniac’s shirt!”
“Put me in it, and I hold it against you!” Zorro warned.
“I have given my orders,” the lieutenant replied loftily.
“One last word for your ear!” Zorro said. “You are making a sad
mistake. I tell you here and now, before some of your men, that this
Captain Ramón is a renegade and a traitor. Heed not his advice! And
ride swiftly, else you’ll not accomplish the rescue. I charge you to
take the _señorita_ to a place of safety.”
“Certainly, _señor_!”
“You’ll not let me ride with you?”
“I have given my orders.”
“Lieutenant, I swear by my honor as a _caballero_ that all I have told
you is the truth. Does that carry weight with you?”
It seemed to carry weight, for the officer hesitated. A _caballero_
does not pledge his honor lightly. But how could it be possible that an
officer like Captain Ramón could be anything but loyal and true. And
Captain Ramón himself decided the lieutenant.
“For a _caballero_ to swear by his honor is a great thing,” the captain
said. “Yet now and then we find a man of _caballero_ blood who forgets
the honor that should be his. And we remember that you are Señor Zorro,
also!”
“_Señor――_” Zorro began angrily.
But the lieutenant cut him short. “I have decided,” he said. “You will
be held a prisoner in the maniac’s shirt until we return. Take him
away!”
The soldiers grasped him roughly, hurried him inside and to the
guardroom. There, Señor Zorro tried to fight again, but could
accomplish nothing against so many foes. They lashed his ankles
and knees and tied his wrists together in front of him. And then
one fetched the maniac’s shirt. The latter was exactly what it was
named, an instrument used on violent maniacs to prevent them harming
themselves or anybody else. It was a long bag of leather, constructed
so that a man could be slipped into it bound, and the top of the bag
then gathered around his neck with a leather thong.
Protesting to the last, Señor Zorro was put inside the leather bag and
the neck thong tightened. And then they propped him up on a bench in
a corner, and left the room. The door closed; he heard the bar go up
against it.
The soldiers hurried away. There was a moment of silence. And then
Señor Zorro heard the clattering of horses’ hoofs as they rode
toward the highway. And he was left behind, bound and helpless, in
the guardroom of the _presidio_, in the maniac’s shirt, and with two
troopers just outside the door.
[Illustration: The Further Adventures of Zorro, Part VI]