THE "SILVER KEY" AGAIN.
Since these events happened I have asked myself many times whether I
did right or wrong, and even now I scarcely know how to decide. Those
who blamed me said I was Sorillo's guest, and should not have abused
his confidence. Others urged that I was bound, if possible, to prevent
him putting a man to death unlawfully. All, however, agreed that none
but a madman would have embarked on so preposterous an enterprise.
The idea occurred to me suddenly. The guerillas, split up into groups,
had gone, some this way, some that, to watch the movements of the
Royalist troops. Sorillo had kept me company till we cleared the pass,
when he, too, with a word of farewell, rode away. It was now dusk,
and, as the chief had truly said, there was no time to waste; yet I did
not move. Right in my path, with outstretched arms and pitiful,
beseeching face, stood Rosa Montilla. I knew it was but the outcome of
a fevered brain; yet the vision seemed intensely real.
The girl's eyes looked at me reproachfully, her lips moved as if in
speech. I fancied I could hear again her parting cry, "O Juan, save
him!"
I asked myself impatiently what more could be done. I had tried my
best and failed, and there was an end of it. Besides, the words of the
chief rang in my ears in ominous warning: Don Felipe could not be
trusted! To set him free was like giving liberty to a venomous snake;
his hatred would now be all the more bitter in that he had struck and
failed.
Why should I add to my father's danger? The fellow had tried to slay
him once; the next time he would make no mistake. I would make no
further effort to help such a traitor; I would ride on. But again the
beseeching face of the girl stopped me, and again I was moved to think
how I could aid the miserable prisoner. Like a flash of lightning I
thought of the silver key. _That_ would unlock his prison door.
Although I fully believed in Don Felipe's guilt, I remembered he made
no effort to defend himself. He would not admit Sorillo's right to try
him. Before a lawful judge he might be able to vindicate his actions
in some way; at least he should have the chance to do so. Thus
thinking, I turned back in the direction of the ravine.
Half of the sentries, I knew, had been withdrawn to ride with their
chief, but the number on guard mattered little; the silver key was an
all-powerful talisman. I rode slowly, not wishing to tire the horses,
to whose speed and strength we might later be indebted for our lives.
I thought, too, it would serve my purpose better to reach the ravine in
the dead of night, when the men would be sleepy and less likely to ask
inconvenient questions.
I was stopped at the entrance to the pass, but not for long. The
Indians who had seen me ride out with their chief had no suspicion of
my object.
"Where is the chief?" asked the officer. "Have the Royalists got clear
of the mountains?"
"No; they are still in the defiles. But I am in a hurry; I have come
for the Spanish prisoner Montilla."
Fortunately this officer had not attended the trial of Don Felipe, and
Sorillo was not the man to give reasons for his orders. My main
difficulty would lie with the sentry at the door of the hut, but I did
not think he would disobey the authority of the Silver Key.
In any case, boldness was my best policy; so I clattered up the ravine,
stopping hardly a yard from the astonished sentry.
"Quick, man!" I cried, springing to the ground; "are you asleep? Open
the door. I have come back for the prisoner. Is he still bound?
Good. Can you tie him to this horse so that he cannot escape?"
"Yes, señor, if the chief wishes it. But, pardon me, señor, I have no
orders."
"Orders!" cried I angrily; "what would you? I have but just left the
chief; and is not this" (producing the silver key) "sufficient
authority? Am I to tell the chief that he must come himself for the
prisoner?"
"No, no, señor; but I am only a simple soldier. I must not open the
door unless my officer bids me."
"He is below," I said; "we cannot pass without his permission. And I
must hurry, or it will be too late. Quick, drag the fellow out and
bind him firmly on the horse; then come with me."
The sentry had no inkling of the truth, and, never dreaming that his
officer could be deceived, opened the door. Then the prisoner, whether
from fear or from cunning I could not tell, acted in such a manner that
no one would think I was helping him to escape.
He refused to stir an inch from his bench, and kicked vigorously when
the sentry tried to seize him. Then he yelled so loudly that the
officer came running up in alarm.
"The bird has no wish to leave his cosy nest," laughed he.--"Give me
the rope, Pedro, and get a gag; the chief won't want to hear that
music.--Now, señor, if you'll bear a hand we'll hoist him up.--Be
still, you villain, or you'll get a knock on the head.--Had not one of
my fellows better go with you to guard this wild beast, señor?"
Now, from the officer's point of view this was a very sensible
proposal, and one which I dared not oppose for fear of exciting
suspicion.
So I answered carelessly, "A good thought, and I am obliged to you;
though," with a laugh, "the prisoner won't be able to do much mischief
when you have finished with him."
"No, indeed; he'll be pretty clever if he can get these knots undone,"
replied the officer complacently.--"Now, the gag, Pedro. Quick, or
he'll spoil his voice in the night air.--There, my pretty bird! you
shall sing later on."
All this occupied time, and I was in dread lest dawn should break
before we left the ravine. Then we had to wait till Pedro had saddled
his horse; and I watched the sky anxiously. At last we were ready, and
bidding Pedro ride in front, I took leave of the unsuspecting officer.
"A safe journey," he cried. "I should like to know what Sorillo means
to do with the fellow."
"You'll hear all about it when the troops return," said I, laughing and
hurrying after Pedro.
Thus far the venture, with one exception, had succeeded admirably. The
prisoner was out of his cage, and would soon be clear of the pass.
Then I should only have Pedro to deal with. His company was a
nuisance, but it must be borne with for the present; later I should
have to find means to get rid of him.
We rode slowly down the narrow path, Pedro in front, Don Felipe and I
abreast. The poor fellow was in a hapless plight. The gag hurt his
mouth, and the cords cut into his flesh. Had we been alone, I should,
of course, have done something to ease his pain; but as long as Pedro
was there, this was out of the question.
"Anyhow, it's better than being shot," I thought; "and really the
wretch deserves it all."
We passed the sentries without trouble; but at the bottom of the pass
my difficulties began again.
"I suppose the chief has gone to San Mateo, señor?" said Pedro
questioningly. "That is the best place to watch from."
This was an awkward question, as I had intended making a straight dash
for Lima; but it would not do to arouse the man's suspicions. We were
too close to the mountains to run any unnecessary risks, and if Pedro
showed fight there, our chance of escape was gone.
So I answered, "Yes," and rode along, wondering what would come of it.
Every step led us into greater danger. We might run into the arms of
the guerillas, in which event Don Felipe's fate was certain; or be
stopped by the Royalists, when I should be made prisoner.
Day was now breaking, and with the strengthening light I began to see
our position more clearly. It was not promising. We were farther from
Lima than we had been when in the ravine, and were making straight for
the mountains again. Another half-hour's riding would cut us off from
escape completely. What could be done? There was no time to lose, and
I must hit on a plan at once. The simplest and perhaps the only one
likely to be successful I set aside without a moment's hesitation. Not
for a dozen men's lives, my own included, would I harm the unsuspecting
man whom chance had thrown into my power. I might, however, frighten
him into obedience. As far as I could see, it was that or nothing, and
the attempt must be made at once.
So, with beating heart and greatly doubting what would be the issue, I
whipped out my pistol, and, levelling it at him, said quietly, "Move
your hand to your musket, and you are a dead man! do as I bid you, and
no harm will befall you. Leave your gun, get down from the saddle, and
hold your hands above your head."
In the circumstances it was a risky experiment, because if the man
should guess the truth I was entirely at his mercy. For him there was
no more danger than if my pistol were a piece of wood.
"But, señor--" he began, staring at me in surprise.
"Get down!" I repeated sternly. "It is my order. Don't waste time, or
I shall be obliged to fire."
Pedro was a brave man; indeed, all the Indians in Sorillo's band held
their lives cheap. He did not exactly understand what was happening,
yet he seemed to think that all was not right.
"The chief!" he exclaimed. "Does he--"
"Get down!" I cried once more, brandishing my weapon.
With a thundering shout of "The Silver Key! Help for the Silver Key!"
he clubbed his musket and dashed straight at me, regardless of the
levelled pistol.
One moment's pressure on the trigger and he would have dropped to the
ground helpless, but I refrained; instead, I pulled the rein, and my
horse swerved sharply, though not in time. The musket descended with a
thud; the pistol slipped from my nerveless fingers; I seemed to be
plunging down, down beneath a sea of angry waters.
How long I lay thus, or what happened during that time, I do not know;
but I awoke to find myself beside a roaring fire, and to hear the hum
of many voices. A soldier, hearing me move, came and looked into my
face.
"Where am I?" I asked anxiously.
"Not far from Lima," said he. "A few hours since you weren't far from
the next world. How did you get that broken head?"
I tried hard to remember, but could not; the past was a total blank.
"Well, well, never mind," exclaimed the man kindly. "Try to sleep; you
will be better in the morning."
With the coming of dawn I saw that I was in the midst of a large camp.
Thousands of soldiers wrapped in their ponchos lay motionless before
smouldering fires. Presently there was a blowing of bugles, and the
still figures stirred to life. Officers rode hither and thither
issuing orders, the men ate their scanty rations, the cavalry groomed
and fed their horses--there were all the sights and sounds connected
with an army about to march.
Then the infantry formed in battalions, the horsemen mounted, bugles
sounded in numerous places; there was a cracking of whips, the creaking
of wheels, and all began to move slowly forward. Soon but a few men
remained, and it seemed that I had been forgotten.
At length a man came to me. He was dressed in uniform, but his words
and actions proved him to be a surgeon.
"Feel better?" he asked. "Can you eat something? I can only give you
army food; but that will fill up the hollows. Now let me look at the
damage. Faith, I compliment you on having a thick skull. A thinner
one would have cracked like an egg-shell. Don't try to talk till
you've had something to eat."
"Just one question," I said faintly. "Who are the soldiers just moved
out?"
"Why, General Canterac's troops. I see you belong to the other side.
But don't worry; we shan't hurt you."
"Then I am a prisoner?"
"That's always the way--one question leads to a dozen, Yes, I suppose
you are a prisoner; but that's nothing very terrible," and he hurried
off to procure food and drink for me.
Later in the day he came to have another talk, and I learned something
of what had happened.
"We crossed the mountains almost without a check," he began. "The
Indians did us some damage; but they were only a handful, and we saw
none of your fellows."
"But how came I to be here?"
"Ah! that's a queer story. A party of scouts screening our left flank
had just reached the base of the mountains, when they heard a fellow
yelling at the top of his voice. By the time they got in sight, the
man had evidently knocked you down, and was off at a mad gallop."
"Alone?" I asked.
"No; that's the strange part of it. He was leading a spare horse which
carried something on its back. Our men could not get a good view, but
it looked like a full sack, or a big bundle of some sort. They
followed rapidly, and were wearing the runaway down when the Indians
appeared in force on the hills. Of course that stopped the pursuit,
and after picking you up, they came on with the army."
My memory returned now, and I understood what had happened. Pedro had
escaped, and carried Don Felipe with him to the Indians of the Silver
Key.
"Poor Rosa!" I sighed; "it is all over now. She will never see her
father again. Sorillo will take care that he doesn't escape a second
time."
My thoughts dwelt so much on this that I took little interest in the
rest of the doctor's conversation. He was very jubilant, though, I
remember, about his party's success, telling me that in a short time
General Canterac would be master of Callao, and that the Patriots had
nowhere the slightest chance of victory.
"What will be done with me?" I asked.
"I shall send you with our sick to the hospital at Jauja. The air
there is bracing, and will help you to recover more quickly."
"Thank you," I said, though really caring very little at that time
where I was sent.
Next day I was placed with several Spanish soldiers in an open wagon,
one of a number of vehicles guarded by an escort of troopers. My
friendly surgeon had gone to Lima; but I must say the Spaniards behaved
very well, making no difference between me and their own people.
As to the journey across the mountains, I remember little of it. The
worthy Pedro had made such good use of his musket that my head was
racked with pain, and I could think of nothing. Most of the sick
soldiers were also in grievous plight, and it was a relief to us all
when, after several days' travelling, the procession finally halted in
Jauja.
Here we were lifted from the carts and carried to a long whitewashed
building filled with beds. They were made on the floor, and many of
them were already occupied. Accommodation was found for most of us,
but several had to wait until some of the beds became vacant.
Two or three doctors examined the fresh patients, and one forced me to
swallow a dose of medicine. Why, I could not think, unless he wanted
me to know what really vile stuff he was capable of concocting.
I shall pass quickly over this portion of my story. For weeks I lay in
that wretched room, where dozens of men struggled night and day against
death. Some snatched a victory in this terrible fight, but now and
again I noticed a file of soldiers reverently carrying a silent figure
from one of the low beds.
By the end of September I was strong enough to get up, and the doctors
pronouncing me out of danger, I was taken to another building. This
was used as a prison for captured officers of the Patriot forces, and
the very first person to greet me as I stepped inside the room was the
lively Alzura.
"Juan Crawford," cried he, "by all that's wonderful! From the ballroom
to the prison-house! There's a splendid subject for the moralist.
Where have you been, Juan? your people think you are dead. Miller is
frantic; all your friends in Lima are in despair."
"Do you know anything of Don Felipe Montilla?" I asked.
"Montilla? No; there is a mystery about him too. It is given out that
he was abducted by brigands, but some people whisper another story."
"What?"
"That he fled to the Royalists, my boy, as I prophesied he would."
"Then you were a false prophet."
"Then I ask the worthy Don's pardon for suspecting him without cause.
But how did you get here?"
"I was brought in a wagon."
"Lucky dog! Always lucky, Juan. I had to walk," and he showed me his
feet, naked, and scored with cuts.
After sympathizing with him, I asked him how events were shaping.
"Canterac did not capture Callao, as he hoped, and is now back in the
highlands. Many things have happened, however; let me be your
chronicle. Where shall I start?"
"From the day that Canterac swooped down on Lima."
"That was nothing. He sat down in the capital; we hugged the guns at
Callao and looked at him. When he got tired he took himself off, and
we returned to our quarters."
"Nothing very exciting in that."
"You are right, my boy. Your judgment is marvellous. But we had a day
of excitement shortly before I came on this trip. You should have been
there. Lima went stark mad! The guns at Callao thundered for hours;
the capital was decked with flags; the people cheered till they were
hoarse; there was a very delirium of joy. It was the greeting of Peru
to her saviour--her second saviour, that is."
"Why can't you speak plainly? Do you mean Bolivar has come?"
"Your second question, Juan, shows there was little need for the first.
Yes, Bolivar, the protector or emperor, or whatever name the new master
of Peru cares to be known by. The hero of South America has arrived;
let the Spaniards tremble!"
"For any sake give your tongue a rest. What has Santa Cruz done?"
"What has Santa Cruz done? A very great deal, my boy, I assure you.
He has lost his whole army--men and horses, guns and ammunition, wagons
and stores. What do you think of that, young man? You will be
compelled to swallow Bolivar after all."
"Let us change the subject. Tell me about yourself."
"Ah," said he, "that is indeed a great subject! Your discernment is
worthy of praise. I can talk on that topic for hours without tiring.
Where shall I begin?"
"Where is the jailer?"
"Why?"
"That I may ask him to send me back to the hospital."
"Juan, you are a fraud! But hark! that is the bell calling us to
dinner. Blessed sound! Come with me to the banquet."