From that portion of Gaspacho's report which related to Don Rafael
Tres-Villas, the reader will easily guess the purpose of the eight
horsemen assembled in the glade of the forest of Ostuta: they were no
other than the soldiers who from the besieging party had gone in pursuit
of the Royalist Colonel. It will be remembered, however, that ten was
the number mentioned by Gaspacho, while only eight now composed the
group that occupied the clearing.
We shall presently learn how their number became thus reduced: but first
let us recount the adventures of Don Rafael himself--from the time of
his quitting the camp of Huajapam, to the moment when we find him asleep
upon his arboreal couch.
As soon as the song of triumph raised by the soldiers of Trujano had
ceased to echo in his ears, Don Rafael proceeded to reflect upon his own
situation. He perceived at once that, in order to traverse with safety
some thirty leagues of a country almost entirely in the hands of the
insurgents, certain precautions would be absolutely necessary. His
gold-laced uniform, his helmet, all his equipments, in short, would
betray him to an insurgent enemy. Moreover he was badly armed--having
broken his sword in the conflict; and for such a perilous journey it was
necessary to be provided with better weapons than a dagger and pistols.
He knew it was impossible to return to his marquee to re-equip himself.
The camp was already filled with the insurgent soldiers, and no doubt
his tent had been pillaged long before that time.
After a moment's reflection it occurred to him that on the field of
battle--that part of it most distant from Huajapam, where Callejas had
sustained the first shock of Morelos' army--he might find the necessary
articles he desired; and turning a little out of his course, he directed
himself thither.
His judgment proved correct. A two-edged sword soon rewarded his
search; and he was able to exchange for his dragoon helmet the felt hat
of an insurgent soldier, with a brass front-plate, bearing in ill-formed
letters the inscription, _Independencia o' muerte_!
Scornfully tearing off the tablet and trampling it under his feet, Don
Rafael placed the felt hat upon his head, and continued his
explorations. Shortly after he exchanged the _jaqueta_ of an insurgent
soldier for his cavalry uniform; and then looking to the state of his
pistols, and seeing that his cartridge-box was well garnished he put
spurs to Roncador and rode briskly away from the ground.
It is not necessary to detail the many precautions which he adopted from
hour to hour to keep out of the hands of the insurgents, who were on all
sides scouring the country through which he had to pass. Suffice it to
say that for the most part he journeyed only by night. Even travelling
thus, he was not always safe; and more than once he found occasion to
employ all the courage and presence of mind with which Nature had
endowed him.
On the evening of the third day, just at the hour of twilight, he
arrived in the neighbourhood of his own hacienda. He was expecting soon
to be in security within its walls, when the two videttes already
mentioned perceived and rushed forward to capture him. This behaviour
was in conformity with the orders of Arroyo, who had commanded that
every one seen near the hacienda should be made prisoner and brought
into his presence.
Don Rafael was at first uncertain as to the enemy with which he had to
deal; but he was not the man to submit tamely to conduct so brusque and
uncourteous as was that of the videttes. His resistance ended in
putting both of them _hors de combat_; but the circumstances of the
encounter, for certain reasons, had been somewhat misrepresented by
Gaspacho.
It is true that one of the two soldiers had his shoulder fractured by a
shot; but the bullet had also passed so near his heart, that the man was
dead in an hour after. As to the other, it was true that the Colonel
dashed him to the ground as described; but, before doing so, he had
taken the precaution to plunge his dagger into the breast of this second
adversary.
Although he had left both deprived of the power to give the alarm,
unfortunately the report of his pistol had betrayed his presence to the
guerilleros. In a few moments half a score of them were riding in
pursuit; for, by the orders of their chief, one half their horses were
kept saddled and bridled both day and night.
After disembarrassing himself of his two adversaries, the Colonel had
hesitated a moment, as to whether he should return on his path or
continue on to the hacienda. It was during this interval of hesitation
that the pursuing horsemen drew near, and that one of them (Pepe Lobos
by name) caught sight of and recognised him, while the snorting of
Roncador as he galloped off confirmed the guerillero in his belief.
It is likely enough that the extreme hatred which Arroyo bore for the
Colonel was at this crisis the means of saving his life. The
guerilleros, knowing the desire of their chief that Tres-Villas should
be captured alive, reflected upon the rich recompense they might expect
if they should so take him. Otherwise the volley of carbine shots,
which they would have delivered on the instant, might have terminated
the existence of their dreaded foe.
On seeing the horsemen, Don Rafael suddenly wheeled round and galloped
back as he had come. His hope lay in being able to distance his
pursuers, and afterwards find a temporary refuge in the thick forest he
had just been traversing, and through which ran the road to Huajapam.
With this purpose in view, he returned along the route at full gallop.
When he deemed himself at a sufficient distance in advance of his
pursuers, he wheeled suddenly from the road and headed his steed into
the thick underwood, through which he spurred onward, until his passage
was fairly barred up by an impenetrable network of vines and bushes.
Here he halted; and, dismounting, led his horse to a tree. He then
commenced groping about, to find some spot where he might in safety
obtain a few hours of repose, after the fatigues he had encountered
during the day.
A few paces further on he perceived a cedrela tree of gigantic
dimensions, and so thickly loaded with leaves that it seemed to promise
a secure hiding-place among its branches. Still apprehensive that his
pursuers might discover his track, Don Rafael resolved to climb the
cedrela, whose dark foliage would screen him from the sharpest eyes. On
approaching the tree, he perceived by the vast circumference of its
trunk that he could not climb up by embracing it. Neither could he
reach to even the lowest of its limbs. A means, however, presented
itself of getting over the difficulty.
An enormous lliana, stretching from among the top branches, reached the
ground in a diagonal direction; and up this Don Rafael was enabled to
make his ascent.
Placing his body between two large boughs, he disposed himself, as best
he could, to pass the remainder of the night, leaving it for the day to
bring him to some further determination.
He commenced reflecting upon the pursuit. He was in hopes that his
pursuers, having lost his track, might separate into small parties of
two or three, in order the more thoroughly to scour the woods. In this
case, he might be able to defeat the whole party, taking them in detail,
and favoured by his own superior courage and strength, in which he felt
the most perfect confidence.
The night had already advanced, and the moon from the high vault of the
starry heavens poured down her floods of light over the spray of the
forest. A few feeble raylets, penetrating through the thick masses of
foliage, reached the retreat where Don Rafael had hidden himself.
He remained for some moments listening attentively. He could hear
nothing--at least no sound that betokened the presence of human beings.
The breeze sighing among the leaves, the distant howl of the coyote, the
sweet note of the mimic night-thrush, or perchance the rustling caused
by the iguana as it scampered over the dead leaves, were the only sounds
that broke the stillness of the night.
The fresh balmy air that he was breathing, the shadow of night that
enwrapped him, the imposing tranquillity that reigned around, all
conspired to beget the desire for repose. He felt his eyelids gradually
grow heavier and heavier; and after a while an invincible torpor seized
upon his whole frame.
Without being in any great degree uneasy about his situation, Don Rafael
nevertheless felt the necessity of keeping awake as long as he might be
able. With this intent he struggled for a time against sleep, but in
vain. Seeing that it was about to overpower him, he unwound the sash
from his waist, and with this attached himself firmly between the
branches. Having thus provided against the danger of a fall, he
surrendered himself the moment after to a profound and silent slumber.