Don Mariano, the dragoon officer, and the two sisters rushed up to the
_azotea_, the hearts of all filled with a dread presentiment.
From the roof, already crowded with servants, a view of the ridge could
be obtained--its whole slope from top to bottom being visible at a
single glance. A horrible spectacle came under the eyes of all at once.
At the upper end of the path which led towards the Hacienda del Valle, a
horse and horseman were seen lying upon the road close to one another.
Both appeared to be wounded--the man struggling to regain his feet--the
horse making only the slightest motion, as if in the last moments of
life.
"Haste!" cried Don Mariano to his domestics. "Haste! Procure a litter,
and have the wounded horseman carried down here to the house."
"If my eyes don't deceive me," said the young officer, casting uneasy
glances to the hill, "yonder unfortunate man is poor old Rodriguez, the
oldest of my father's servants."
The head of the wounded horseman was in fact covered with grey hair, as
could be seen from the _azotea_.
"The name Antonio Valdez," continued Don Rafael, "now recalls to me some
facts connected with that wretch. I remember something of a punishment
inflicted upon him; and I have a dark presentiment--Oh, heavens! Senor
Don Mariano, such happiness to be thus interrupted--"
And without finishing his speech, the young officer hastily pressed the
hand of his host, and rushed for the postern that opened towards the
hills.
In a few seconds after, he was seen climbing the ridge, followed by the
domestics of Don Mariano, who carried a _litera_.
On reaching the wounded man, Don Rafael had no longer any doubts about
his being old Rodriguez; though having seen the latter only in his
childhood, he remembered little more than the name.
Rodriguez, enfeebled by the loss of blood, and by the efforts he had
been making to get upon his feet, was fast losing consciousness.
"Hold!" said Don Rafael to the domestic. "It is useless placing him on
the _litera_. He will not be able to endure the motion. His blood has
nearly all run out by this terrible wound."
As the officer spoke he pointed to a large red spot upon the vest of the
wounded man, beneath which the bloody orifice of a wound showed where
the bullet had entered.
The dragoon captain had fairly won his spurs in the sanguinary wars of
the Indian frontier. He had witnessed death in all its forms, and his
experience had taught him to adopt the readiest means in such a crisis.
He first stopped the bleeding with his handkerchief, and then, taking
the scarf of China crape from his waist, he bound it tightly over the
wound. For all this he had but little hopes of the man's recovery. The
bullet had entered between his shoulders, and passed clear through his
body.
Don Rafael only anticipated that, the haemorrhage once stopped, the
wounded man might return for a moment to consciousness, he was, no
doubt, the bearer of some important message from his master, and it
behoved Don Rafael to learn its purport.
Some time elapsed before the old servant opened his eyes; but one of Don
Mariano's people at that moment came up, carrying a flask of
_aguardiente_. A few drops were poured down his throat. Some of the
liquid was sprinkled over his temples, and this had the effect of
momentarily reviving him.
Opening his eyes, he beheld his young master bending over him. He had
not seen Don Rafael since childhood, but he knew he was in the
neighbourhood, and that the young officer must be he.
"It is I, Rodriguez," said Don Rafael, speaking close to his ear. "I--
Rafael Tres-Villas. You have a message from my father? Why has he sent
you?"
"Blessed be God that He has sent _you_," said the old man, speaking with
difficulty. "Oh! Senor Don Rafael, I bring fearful news. The hacienda
Del Valle--"
"Is burnt?"
The wounded man made a sign in the negative.
"Besieged, then?"
"Yes," replied Rodriguez in a feeble voice.
"And my father?" inquired the officer with a look of anguish.
"He lives. He sent me to you--to Don Mariano's--to ask assistance. I--
pursued by the brigands--a bullet--here! Do not stay with me. Hasten
to your father. If any misfortune happen--Antonio Valdez--Remember--
Antonio Valdez--miscreant--taking vengeance for--oh, young master! Don
Rafael--pray for poor old Rodriguez--who nursed you when a child--
pray--"
The sufferer could speak no more, even in whispers. His head fell back
upon the turf. He was dead. When the litter was set down in the
courtyard of Las Palmas it carried only a corpse! Don Rafael had turned
back for his horse, and to bid a hasty adieu to the family of his host.
"If Costal were only here!" said Don Mariano. "Unfortunately the brave
fellow is gone away. Only a few hours ago he came to take his leave of
me, with another of my people--a negro whom I had no great fancy for.
Both, I believe, are on their way to join the insurgent army in the
capacity of scouts or guides. _Hola_!" continued the haciendado,
shouting to one of the _peons_, "send hither the _mayor-domo_!"
This functionary soon made his appearance; not a house steward--as the
name might seem to imply--in white cravat, stockings, and powdered wig;
but, on the contrary, a strapping energetic fellow, dressed in full
_ranchero_ costume, with a pair of spurs upon his booted heels, whose
enormous rowels caused him to walk almost upon his toes, and with long
black hair hanging to his shoulders like the manes of the half-wild
horses he was accustomed to ride. Such is the _mayor-domo_ of a Mexican
hacienda, whose duties, instead of confining him to the dwelling-house,
consist in the general superintendence of the estate, often equal in
extent to the half of a county. It is, therefore, necessary for him to
be a man of the most active habits, a first-class rider, ever in the
saddle, or ready to leap into it at a moment's notice. Such was the
personage who presented himself in obedience to the summons of Don
Mariano.
"Give orders," said the latter, addressing him, "to my two vaqueros,
Arroyo and Bocardo, to saddle their horses and accompany Senor Don
Rafael!"
"Neither Arroyo nor Bocardo can be found," replied the mayor-domo. "It
is eight days since I have seen either of them."
"Give each of them four hours in the _xepo_ (stocks), as soon as they
return!"
"I doubt whether they will ever return, Senor Don Mariano."
"What! have they gone to join Valdez, think you?"
"Not exactly," replied the mayor-domo; "I have my suspicions that the
brace of worthies have gone to get up a guerilla on their own account."
"Summon Sanchez, then!"
"Sanchez is laid up in bed, Senor Don Mariano. He has some bones broken
by a wild horse--that he had mounted for the first time--having reared
and fallen back upon him."
"So, Senor Don Rafael," said the haciendado with an air of vexation,
"out of six servants which I counted yesterday I have not one to place
at your service, except my mayor-domo here, for I cannot reckon upon
those stupid Indian _peons_. The mayor-domo will attend you."
"No," rejoined Don Rafael; "it is not necessary. Let him remain here.
I shall go alone to the assistance of my father, who, no doubt, will
have plenty of people with him. It is more likely a leader that is
wanted."
The mayor-domo, dismissed by this answer, hurried towards the stables,
to see that Don Rafael's horse was made ready for the road.