THE CHASE THAT FAILED
Señor Zorro urged his horse down the treacherous slope of the hill,
where there was loose gravel and a misstep would spell disaster, and
where the troopers were slow to follow. Sergeant Gonzales possessed
courage enough, and some of the men followed him, while others galloped
off to right and left, planning to intercept the fugitive when he
reached the bottom and turned.
Señor Zorro, however, was before them, and took the trail toward San
Gabriel at a furious gallop, while the troopers dashed along behind,
calling to one another, and now and then discharging a pistol with a
great waste of powder and ball and no result so far as capturing or
wounding the highwayman was concerned.
Soon the moon came up. Señor Zorro had been anticipating that, and knew
that it would make his escape more difficult. But his horse was fresh
and strong, while those ridden by the troopers had covered many miles
during the day, and so hope was not gone.
Now he could be seen plainly by those who pursued, and he could hear
Sergeant Gonzales crying upon his men to urge their beasts to the
utmost and effect a capture. He glanced behind him as he rode, and
observed that the troopers were scattering out in a long line, the
stronger and fresher horses gaining on the others.
So they rode for some five miles, the troopers holding the distance,
but not making any gain, and Señor Zorro knew that soon their horses
would weaken, and that the good steed he bestrode, which gave no signs
of fatigue as yet, would outdistance them. Only one thing bothered
him--he wanted to be traveling in the opposite direction.
Here the hills rose abruptly on either side of the highway, and it was
not possible for him to turn aside and make a great circle, nor were
there any trails he could follow; and if he attempted to have his horse
climb, he would have to make slow progress, and the troopers would come
near enough to fire their pistols, and mayhap wound him.
So he rode straight ahead, gaining a bit now, knowing that two miles
further up the valley there was a trail that swung off to the right,
and that by following it he would come to higher ground and so could
double back on his tracks.
He had covered one of the two miles before he remembered that it had
been noised abroad that a landslide had been caused by the recent
torrential rain and had blocked this higher trail. So he could not use
that even when he reached it; and now a bold thought came to his mind.
As he topped a slight rise in the terrain, he glanced behind once more
and saw that no two of the troopers were riding side by side. They
were well scattered, and there was some distance between each two of
them. It would help his plan.
He dashed around a bend in the highway, and pulled up his horse. He
turned the animal's head back toward whence he had come, and bent
forward in the saddle to listen. When he could hear the hoof-beats of
his nearest pursuer's horse, he drew his blade, took a turn of the
reins around his left wrist, and suddenly struck his beast in the
flanks cruelly with his sharp rowels.
The animal he rode was not used to such treatment, never having felt
the spurs except when in a gallop and his master wished greater speed.
Now he sprang forward like a thunderbolt, dashed around the curve like
a wild stallion, and bore down upon the nearest of Señor Zorro's foes.
"Make way!" Señor Zorro cried.
The first man gave ground readily, not sure that this was the
highwayman coming back, and when he was sure of it he shrieked the
intelligence to those behind, but they could not understand because of
the clatter of hoofs on the hard road.
Señor Zorro bore down upon the second man, clashed swords with him and
rode on. He dashed around another curve, and his horse struck another
fairly, and hurled him from the roadway. Zorro swung at the fourth man,
and missed him, and was glad that the fellow's counterstroke missed as
well.
And now there was naught but the straight ribbon of road before him,
and his galloping foes dotting it. Like a maniac he rode them through,
cutting and slashing at them as he passed. Sergeant Gonzales, far in
the rear because of his jaded mount, realized what was taking place and
screeched at his men, and even as he screeched a thunderbolt seemed to
strike his horse, unseating him.
And then Señor Zorro was through them and gone, and they were following
him again, a cursing sergeant at their head, but at a distance slightly
greater than before.
He allowed his horse to go somewhat slower now, since he could keep his
distance, and rode to the first cross-trail, into which he turned. He
took to higher ground, and looked back to see the pursuit streaming out
over the hill, losing itself in the distance, but still determined.
"It was an excellent trick!" Señor Zorro said to his horse. "But we
cannot try it often!"
He passed the _hacienda_ of a man friendly to the governor, and a
thought came to him--Gonzales might stop there and obtain fresh horses
for himself and his men.
Nor was he mistaken in that. The troopers dashed up the driveway, and
dogs howled a welcome. The master of the _hacienda_ came to the door,
holding a _candelero_ high above his head.
"We chase Señor Zorro!" Gonzales cried. "We require fresh steeds, in
the name of the governor!"
The servants were called, and Gonzales and his men hurried to the
corral. Magnificent horses were there, horses almost as good as the one
the highwayman rode, and all were fresh. The troopers quickly stripped
saddles and bridles from their jaded mounts and put them on the fresh
steeds, and then dashed for the trail again and took up the pursuit.
Señor Zorro had gained quite a lead, but there was only one trail he
could follow, and they might overtake him.
Three miles away, on the crest of a small hill, there was a _hacienda_
that had been presented to the mission of San Gabriel by a _caballero_
who had died without leaving heirs. The governor had threatened to take
it for the state, but so far had not done so, the Franciscans of San
Gabriel having a name for protecting their property with determination.
In charge of this _hacienda_ was one Fray Felipe, a member of the order
who was along in years, and under his direction the neophytes made the
estate a profitable one, raising much live stock, and sending to the
storehouses great amounts of hides and tallow and honey and fruit, as
well as wine.
Gonzales knew the trail they were following led to this _hacienda_, and
that just beyond it there was another trail that split, one part going
to San Gabriel and the other returning to Reina de Los Angeles by a
longer route.
If Señor Zorro passed the _hacienda_, it stood to reason that he would
take the trail that ran toward the _pueblo_, since, had he wished to go
to San Gabriel, he would have continued along the highway in the first
place, instead of turning and riding back through the troopers at some
risk to himself.
But he doubted whether Zorro would pass. For it was well known that
the highwayman dealt harshly with those who prosecuted the _frailes_,
and it was to be believed that every Franciscan held a friendly feeling
for him and would give him aid.
The troopers came within sight of the _hacienda_, and could see no
light. Gonzales stopped them where the driveway started, and listened
in vain for sounds of the man they pursued. He dismounted and inspected
the dusty road, but could not tell whether a horseman had ridden toward
the house recently.
He issued quick orders, and the troop separated, half of the men
remaining with their sergeant and the others scattering in such manner
that they could surround the house, search the huts of the natives, and
look at the great barns.
Then Sergeant Gonzales rode straight up the driveway with half his men
at his back, forced his horse up the steps to the veranda as a sign
that he held this place in little respect, and knocked on the door with
the hilt of his sword.