THE UNWILLING VOLUNTEER.
It had fallen a very black night, we say. Not a star peeped out among
the heavy clouds grazing the treetops and rim of the bowl in the centre
of which Monte Tesoro flaunted its defiant colours. In the northward,
long peals of thunder rolled without any lightning being visible.
Whether from the effect of the atmosphere, or by the presentiment
of the assault by the multitude of besiegers being imminent, a kind
of gloom seemed to reign in the hacienda; the courts were deserted,
the sentries were almost unseen, and their "all's well" but feebly
re-echoed along the barriers. Not one light sparkled at an aperture to
cheer the two watchers on the hill in the heart of the hostile camp.
On the other hand, without, at fires kindled far enough away not to
expose the crowds encircling them to gunshot, the rebels noisily kept
holiday, shouting and cheering and singing.
In the tent, formed of curtains and carpets thrown over supports of
tree stems, erected with all the ingenuity of a people expert by
tradition in hut building, the three chiefs of the allied foes of
Sonora were in conference.
Each had already gained a hold on the masses,--the Apache by having
shown with his handful of warriors that the Mexicans could be bearded
in their houses; the Mexican by his notorious feud with the farmer
gentry; and Juan, the Yaqui, by having accumulated these hordes, after
having excited them to throw off the yoke.
Furthermore, the latter had brought the cannon and suggested its
employment against the farm building; and Iron Shirt had distinguished
himself in all the charges up to the very pickets, harassing the
Mexicans till they were no doubt weary from want of rest.
All the tendency of their conversation was towards taunting the
one-legged robber chieftain for his backwardness in the attack.
Suddenly the Mexican, who had borne the innuendoes with deep
philosophy, as he smoked a cigarette or two, lifted his head, and
listening, said:
"I know that step! It is my spy's! Now, perhaps, I shall show you what
manner of man is el Manco."
There was a slight exchange of questions and answers between the guards
of the tent, and then the three leaders beheld a dark figure's outlines
against the sky.
It was a peon, apparently.
"Speak," said Captain Pedrillo, as the Indian bowed low, "we three are
one to hear you."
"Your Excellency," began the slave in a low, clear voice, eking out his
story with signs, which were clearer to the comprehension of Iron Shirt
than his speech, "I have penetrated the farm even to the gardens."
"Ah!" cried the peon leader and the robber in a breath, whilst the
Apache's eyes gleamed transiently and gleefully.
"I have found a secret gate in the palisade. One or two men, even
mounted ones, would not be remarked, for the watches are worn out by
the day's guard. In truth, a mounted man would be thought, once within
the corral, one of their officers. Thence, one can ride into the garden
where the ladies take the air. I am sure," added he, with ferocity,
"that if we had half a dozen of us in their midst, while our brothers
attacked the hacienda on all sides, that the defenders would be so
distracted by their shrieks and the war whoops that we would master the
place in a twinkling."
"You hear?" said the Mexican, complacently. "We might have hammered our
fists sore on the gate and made no headway. But thanks to my emissary,
Juan--"
"Diego--."
"Diego, then; we can have the cursed proprietors at a disadvantage. He
shall lead a small force into the heart of the fortress during this
night. Then let the sound of our cannon, hurling its huge balls into
the doomed dwelling, be their signal to seize the women enjoying the
shade and shelter, and ours to assail the same from every quarter."
The Apache was not enthusiastic, and the peon was suspicious.
"He was a servant there," explained Captain Pedrillo, hastily, noticing
how little his agent and his project were approved. "Don Benito had him
flogged for some peccadillo, and he has loved him, thirsted to show his
love for the family ever since."
The rebel leader grinned at the sarcasm; it opened an old sore.
"That is different," said he. "Diego, you are welcome now; and yet," he
went on, "Diego is Indian, yes; peon, yes; but Yaqui, no!"
"It is true, I am not a Yaqui," answered the other, with some pride,
"but I am a Mayo. My people hunted over this ground, hither and
thither, from the sea to the Aztec's land, from the Smoking Mountain to
the Pimas' cornfields; but now, their bow is broken, their gold gilds
the spurs of the Spaniard. Diego stands alone; the last of the Mayos is
the pointing dog of the Yaquis, the Apaches, and the Foe-to-all-men."
He locked his hands, and, bowing, remained like a statue before the
trio.
"Good!" said the Apache, "We are born diverse, but hatred makes us
brothers. I will bring a chosen band to the secret gate."
"And I," said the peon leader, "will set my brothers on the alert to
attack the farm at every point."
"And I will manage the great gun," said Pedrillo, pleased at how patly
things were falling. "Here upon the hill--"
"Out of shot?" sneered Juan. "No! Your Mexicans can manage the cannon.
You are the gentleman to handle the ladies with gloves; you, Captain,
will accompany the spy."
"But I cannot move out of the saddle."
"But you heard Diego say a mounted man will be taken for one of their
own officers--"
"Still--"
"It is well," interrupted Iron Shirt; "my brother the Yaqui prepares to
hurl his brothers on the pickets, whilst I and mine await at the gate.
The captain will go with the Mayo, and when the big gun is fired, we
all set to our work. It is spoken, the council is broken up."
He rose. The Yaqui bowed, accustomed already to yield immediately to
the superior ever-free Indian, and the Mexican concealed his disgust at
being overruled.
There was a brief silence, during which Diego quitted the tent, though
remaining still in view, just outside, apparently regarding the
stronghold and not listening to the chiefs.
The storm was fast approaching, for the lightning was visible, and the
thunder was borne on gusts which gave a damp feeling, though no rain
had fallen yet.
"Just the night for a surprise," remarked the Yaqui, assuming to the
best of his ability the air of one experienced in warfare.
"It is good," added the Apache, examining his weapons, conscientiously.
The Mexican looked from one to the other with diminishing hesitation.
"Good or not," said he, abruptly, "I see no harm in our taking
precautions."
The Apache paid no attention; he was fine edging his knife on a small
piece of Arkansas whetstone which he carried in a satchel at his side
among other little tools and his talismans. The Yaqui, however, looked
over at the speaker inquiringly.
"I want a few of my men to come with me. They know my ways--I know
theirs."
Juan consulted Iron Shirt with a glance and then nodded carelessly.
"Let me have Garcia before me, my alférez."
He stepped to the opening, and blew a silver whistle hanging by a chain
of the same metal around his long neck. Presently, the Mexican whom he
thus summoned came striding to his commander.
"Stefano," said the latter, loudly enough for the others to hear, "I
believe you are devoted to me?"
"I ought to be," was the answer, "for I should have been hanged three
months ago but for your honour plucking me out of the calaboose of
Concha Village. Since then I have been your trustiest lieutenant, I
take it."
"You have. Well, I am going on a forlorn hope, but a brave man thinks
nothing of risking his life when the reward is great. I am going almost
alone into the hacienda, with our Apache brothers, under the guidance
of our faithful peon yonder."
"Ah!" cried the ex-banker, incredulously.
"I shall be in the heart of the fortalice, in the gardens, where the
ladies recreate out of the reach of arrows, but not safe from the ball
from our cannon. Now, as a gallant gentleman, Stefano, do not, in
aiming at the house, fling your ball in among the dames."
"I won't, Captain, all the less likely, as I mean to aim at the
building low down. The ball will play prettily with the foundation
stone and the don's imported Spanish wines--more the pity."
"Then, if the ladies are safe," began the Mexican, relieved partly of
his fears, "there's no more to be said."
"The house is my mark, rest tranquil, your Excellency."
"Very well," sighed Pedrillo, drawing his false leg out of the hole
which he had deeply drilled in the earth in his agitation. "I no longer
have any uneasiness. Now, let me have six men for my expedition."
"You can have six rogues, who will go anywhere under the leadership of
La Chupa--"
"Stay; no, I would rather have your kinsman, Zagal, to be at their
head."
"My cousin? This is a grievous slur on a caballero to choose his
kinsman as a kind of hostage, but 'tis wartime and we must act like
warriors. Zagal shall accompany you, Captain, as you please. Have no
fear that I shall scalp him with a cannon shot," said Garcia with a
laugh. "He owes me forty odd dollars, to be paid out of our plunder of
the hacienda. Your honour is safe next him."
This arrangement completed, the captain had to go forth. He looked to a
brace of revolvers in his sword belt, to the sabre that it should play
freely, put on a _poncho_, lined with India-rubber against the rain,
and hobbled altogether from the tent. The peon guide awaited him, and
lent him his shoulder on his lame side till he had mounted his horse.
Already the Indians, to the number of fifty, were in the saddle; they
had removed everything of a light colour or that glittered, and had
chosen whole-coloured horses with a dark skin.
"Hasten down the hill," said Pedrillo, as his half a dozen rogues
galloped up into the troop, "the storm will be on us in ten minutes,
confound it! And all nocturnal excursions!"
Indeed, they were hardly out of the hollow, and mounting the slope
which gradually brought them to the level of the farmhouse, before they
were deluged with rain. Fortunately the lightning was flashing on the
other side of the pine forest, where the detachment from the besieged
were gladly sheltering themselves, and no glimmer fell upon the
cavalcade. The Apaches' bodies cast off the wet like ducks' plumage,
whilst the thick blankets of the Mexicans were as serviceable as the
chief salteador's waterproof.
The ditch was brimming with water, so much so as to be on the overflow
at one or two places where the peons bad wantonly breached it, and
the rippling of the waste water was quite noisy. Two of the Indians
swam the moat as easily as beavers, plied their hatchets dexterously
in the mud till a shelving landing place was formed, and there the
troop executed a passage. To ride up to the very stockade, of which the
height prevented even a horseman being perceived from the house, though
not from a sentinel on the enclosure, was no difficult task.
All remained as gloomy as silent. Beyond doubt, the falling rain had
pelted the watchmen into nooks.
Suddenly three figures started up under the very heads of the foremost
horses.
"Stay," said Diego, "they are peons. Yaqui?"
"Yaqui!" was the answer.
"What news?"
"Nothing."
"Where is the gate I found, and which I cannot surely lay my hand upon
now in the wet?"
"Here."