THE LION AT BAY.
"My God!" said the General, "am I the dupe of an hallucination?"
"Ah! ah!" the King of Darkness exclaimed, with an ironical smile, "you
recognize me then, General?"
"Don Tadeo de Leon!" Don Pancho cried, in horror. "Do the dead then
arise from the tomb? Oh! I hoped that what I heard was false. It is you!"
"Yes," Don Tadeo replied, in a stern voice, "you are not mistaken, Don
Pancho; I am Don Tadeo de Leon, whom you caused to be shot upon the
Plaza Mayor of Santiago. Your spies have informed you correctly."
"Man or demon," the General shouted, half choking with rage, "I will not
yield to you! I will fight you as a man, and send you back again to the
hell from which you have escaped!"
His enemy smiled disdainfully.
"Your hour has arrived, Don Pancho," he said; "you are due to the
justice of the Dark-Hearts."
"You do not hold me yet, wretched traitor! If I cannot conquer, I can
die, weapon in hand, like a soldier."
"No, your hour has struck, I tell you; you are ours, you shall die, but
not the death of a soldier; you shall be executed by our justice!"
"If that be the case," the General yelled, brandishing his sword, "come
and take me!"
Don Tadeo did not deign a reply; he gave a signal, and a lasso whizzed
through the air, launched by an invisible hand, and fell round the
General's shoulders. Astonished by this unexpected attack, before he
could make the least possible resistance, he received a terrific shock,
lost his stirrups, was pulled from his horse, and dragged amongst
the insurgents. The astounded General, half mad with rage and shame,
exhausted himself in vain efforts; nearly strangled by the lasso which
flayed his neck, his face assumed a purple tint; his eyes, injected with
blood, seemed starting from their sockets, and a white foam flowed from
the corners of his discoloured lips. Don Tadeo contemplated him for a
moment with a mixture of pity and triumph.
"Free him from that slipknot," he said. "Secure his person, but treat
him with respect."
The soldiers, terrified at this prompt capture, which they had not at
all expected, stood downcast and silent; in their stupor forgetting even
the use of their arms. Don Tadeo turned towards them:
"Surrender," he shouted, "surrender! the man who misled you is in our
power; your lives shall be spared."
The soldiers consulted each other for an instant with their eyes; and
then, as if by a spontaneous movement, they threw down their muskets,
crying aloud:
"Chili! Chili! liberty! liberty!"
"That is well!" said Don Tadeo; "leave the city, encamp at the distance
of a mile, and await the orders which shall soon be transmitted to you."
The conquered soldiers, with downcast looks, followed the road they had
traversed an hour before; they passed through the silent ranks of the
insurgents, which opened to give them passage. Without loss of time,
Don Tadeo, followed by a crowd of his partisans, directed his course
towards the Plaza Mayor, where the battle still raged. The soldiers,
solidly intrenched in the Plaza, and masters of the cabildo, fought
valiantly, hoping still for the assistance of General Bustamente, of
whose fate they were ignorant. Although reduced to a small number, these
troops occupied a formidable position, in which it was almost impossible
to force them, without resolving to suffer great loss. Persuaded that
they only required to gain time, the soldiers fought with the energy of
despair, defending inch by inch the barricade behind which they were
sheltered.
But the day was passing away, their ammunition was growing exhausted, a
great number of their comrades were stretched dead at their feet, and
nothing could support them but the hope that the succour so impatiently
expected was at hand. In the heat of their own contest they had not
heard the noise of the battle fought by Don Pancho at the city gates, in
which but few shots had been fired, as it had been principally decided
by cold steel. Discouragement, however, began to affect the bravest,
the general who commanded even felt his energy diminish, and he looked
around him with great anxiety.
Dejected, and with downcast eyes, the senator, who had been the bearer
of the fatal proclamation, trembled in all his limbs; he regretted,
but too late, having thrown himself into this hornet's nest; and he
offered up the most magnificent vows to the innumerable saints of the
golden Spanish legend, if they would bring him safe and sound through
the perils which surrounded him. The worthy man had not any warlike
instincts; and we can safely affirm, without fear of contradiction, that
if he had had the slightest suspicion that things would have taken the
turn they did, he would have remained quiet in his charming quinta of
Corro-Azul, in the environs of Santiago, where his life glided away so
softly, so happily, and, above all, so free from care. Unfortunately,
as it sometimes happens in this nether world, where, whatever Candide
may say, everything is not for the best, in the best of worlds, Don
Ramón Sandias--so the worthy senator was named--had not been able duly
to appreciate the charms of that calm life; ambition had gnawed at his
heart, though he had nothing to wish for; and he had, as we have seen,
plunged up to the neck in a hornet's nest, from which he did not know
how to emerge.
At every shot he heard, the poor senator jumped like a Guanaco, with
startled eyes; and when, now and then, in spite of the precautions he
had taken, the sinister hissing of a bullet resounded in his ear, he
threw himself flat on his face, murmuring all the prayers that his
troubled memory could recall.
At first, the contortions and cries of Don Ramón had very much amused
the officers and soldiers among whom accident had placed him; they had
even taken delight in augmenting his terrors; but, at length, as happens
more frequently in such cases than people fancy, the pleasantries had
ceased; Don Ramón's terrors had communicated themselves to the laughers,
who saw, with fright, that their position was becoming every minute more
desperate.
"The devil take the poltroon!" the General at length cried, angrily;
"cannot you keep your trembling limbs still? Caspita! console yourself,
they won't kill you more than once."
"Ah! that is very easy for you to say," the senator replied, in a broken
voice; "I am no soldier; it is your trade to be killed, it is all one to
you."
"Hum!" said the General, "not quite so much so as you may think; but
comfort yourself; if this goes on a little longer, we shall all go
together."
"What is that you say?" the poor man muttered, with redoubled fear.
"Caramba! it is clear as day, if Don Pancho does not make haste and
come, all of us here will die."
"But I do not wish to die!" said the senator, bursting into tears; "I
am no soldier. Oh! I implore you, my good, my inestimable Don Tiburcio
Cornejo, let me go away!"
The General shrugged his shoulders.
"What consequence can it be to you?" the senator continued, in a
supplicating tone; "do save my life! show me which way I can get out of
this cursed confusion."
"Eh! how the devil do I know?"' the General said, impatiently.
"Well, now, look here," said the senator; "you owe me two thousand
piastres, which I won of you at Monte, do you not?"
"What then?" the General, vexed at this ill-timed remark, said, sharply.
"Get me away from here, and I will cry quits."
"You are a fool, Don Ramón; do you think if I could get safely away from
here, that I would remain?"
"I see what you are," said the senator, despondingly; "you are but a
false friend, you desire my death, you thirst for my blood."
In short, the poor man was almost mad; he knew not what he said,
terror had deprived him of the little sense he ever possessed. But, in
reality, the position became every instant more critical; the carnage
was horrible, the soldiers fell one after another beneath the bullets
of the insurgents, who were sheltered by every corner of the plaza. Two
or three sorties attempted by the troops had been vigorously repulsed;
and hence, decimated as they were, all they could possibly do now was to
prevent their intrenchments from being carried.
All at once the senator bounded forward like a chamois; he made directly
to the General, and seized his arm.
"We are saved!" he cried; "thanks be to God! we are saved!"
"Hilloh! what's the matter now, Don Ramón? What bee has stung you? are
you really mad?"
"I have not been stung," the senator replied, as fast as he could speak,
"nor am I mad; we are saved; I tell you, we are saved!"
"Well, how? what is it? Is Don Pancho coming at last?"
"Don Pancho, indeed! I wish he were at the devil!" "Well, what is it,
then?"
"Why, do you not see, yonder? look, behind the barricade which blocks
the entrance of the Calle de la Merced."
"What is there to see?"
"Why, a flag of truce! a white flag!"
"Ah!" said the General, eagerly, "let us look! let us look!"
And he did look.
"True!" he said, at the expiration of a minute. "Success to all cowards,
say I, for having good eyes; I did not see it."
"Ay, but I did," said Don Ramón, rubbing his hands, quite revived, and
marching off with great glee. But, at that moment, a nearly spent ball
came ricocheting and whizzing close to his ear.
"Lord, have mercy upon me!" he cried, falling flat on his face, and
so remaining, as motionless as if he were dead, although he had not
received a scratch.
In the meantime, the General had likewise caused a flag of truce to be
hoisted on his intrenchments, and had given orders for the firing to
cease. The noise of the combat being hushed, the senator, like a rabbit
relieved from alarm, raised his head a little; reassured by the silence
which prevailed, he sat up, looking on all sides with the greatest
anxiety, and, at length, convinced that the peril was over, he contrived
to get upon his legs, which, however, trembled so frightfully under him,
that they could scarcely support him.