O'DONNELL TAKES A HORSEBACK RIDE
"Good pluck has that Indian lad of yours, Señor Mendoza. He faced the
muzzles of the guns this morning without batting an eye."
Mendoza and O'Donnell were in the Administrator's office. Mendoza's
eye was alert, his eagle face keen. The poncho thrown carelessly over
his shoulders, his mustachios and imperial made him look the Old World
soldier leader.
"My messenger evidently caught you before you broke camp." Mendoza
spoke in English, as had the other.
"By my faith! he burst into camp on that sorrel like a meteor. I had
'Adelante!' half out of my mouth when he spurred on us. A dozen
pistols were aimed at him, and why my fellows didn't shoot I don't see,
except that they were afraid of hitting the horse. A native more or
less wouldn't count, but these scoundrels know rare horseflesh night or
day. Perhaps they'd peeked through the bars of your corrals, señor,
when the peon riflemen weren't looking."
The frontiersman laughed. He lay back in his chair, crossing his legs,
and waited for the other to speak. His beard and hair were free from
the cords and were flowing over his breast and shoulders. The bearskin
leggings seemed more shaggy than ever.
"Those men will be your companions for a thousand miles?"
"I can expect no other, Señor Mendoza. Besides, they serve me well."
"Señor O'Donnell, you represent great interests in California."
"On another occasion I showed you documents which assert that."
"Very true. Now, at a critical time you lose yourself in the
wilderness, with no guard save a company of cutthroats who would take a
man's life for a handful of pesos."
"Ah, Mendoza, what you say is so. This is a critical time and my men
would hardly ornament a Sunday school. But I shall meet a
representative of the United States somewhere to the east of here, a
thousand miles more or less, receive instructions from Washington, and
send back my reports. I go through safely; another might not; so I am
my own messenger. In the passing of three new moons, as the Indian
counts, I shall again be in the Valley of Santa Clara."
The big man laughed again.
"You go through safely, you say. Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. My dare-devils respect the man who is not afraid of them.
Besides, I travel a country the chiefs of which are sworn Indian
brothers to me."
"And you trust them--these wild Indians of the mountains?"
"Again I say, absolutely."
"I hope your faith is not misplaced."
"It is not. Mendoza, I have been for ten years among these fierce
tribes. From them I learned the moods of the desert and the paths that
conquer the mountains. Their tents were mine, and they shared their
food with me. I came to know the Indian heart, and was willing to
become blood brother with their chiefs. Yes, I trust them absolutely."
"Blood brother?"
"It is a covenant of friendship. I am as sure it will not be broken as
I am that Kit Carson will keep word and meet me beyond the high
mountains a month hence."
"But this covenant of friendship--this becoming a blood brother--how
did you manage it?"
"By transfusion of blood from their veins to mine. The medicine men
are surgeons--of a kind; the arm veins supply the blood."
Mendoza looked closely at the frontiersman. "You are, then, an Indian
leader."
"I have the long hair of a chief, as you see. I allow my beard to
grow, also, which the natives cannot do, to show I am a chief of
chiefs."
"A chief of chiefs! What of Yoscolo? Is he included in this unique
brotherhood?"
"No; decidedly no. Yoscolo disdains Indian virtues, replacing them by
white men's wickedness."
"Will you be safe from him on this journey?"
"My friends would harry him out of the Sierras, and down to these
valleys where he would meet destruction at the hands of your riflemen."
"Very good, friend O'Donnell. But I am keeping you too long. I will
come to the point now. I detained you from an early start on that long
road of yours for an important matter. The English have been very
active in creating a sentiment here favorable to annexing our province
to Great Britain."
"There are many signs of their activity; but others have been active
too."
"It is time your government should survey roads between California and
your westernmost outpost."
The large man sprang to his feet. "Capital, Mendoza! Capital, sir!
It's good to hear you say that. I didn't expect it so soon. Will you
put it down in writing, and sign your name to it?"
"Assuredly. I will also do my part toward welcoming settlers from your
republic when the roads are built."
"Famous! Famous! That is exactly what I wanted you to say every time
we've met. It's worth the hindrance in my journey to hear news like
that." Then, suddenly, "Something special has happened to bring you to
this conclusion. What is it? I've been debating for weeks with you,
and with no apparent result."
O'Donnell seated himself. A peon had come in response to a signal from
Mendoza.
"Aguardiente and cigarros," the master ordered.
"I can talk better when smoking," offering the other a light.
"Very well, I listen better."
They smoked for a little while without speaking.
"You know, personally, Farquharson, England's special representative
here, if I remember rightly," Mendoza breaking the silence, his eyes
intently studying his guest.
"I have not seen him for many years, but I once knew him well enough.
He has been as busy as a bee for several months."
"Very true; but the other British agent, Señora Valentino, is still
more active--of course you know all about it. By the way, was Yoscolo
alone in the abduction of Farquharson a day or two ago in Monterey?
Can you tell me? You know he was abducted, of course."
O'Donnell gave a roar of laughter, and smoked vigorously.
"It seems to me I did hear something of it. In fact, for a while
everybody was inquiring for this lost Englishman. I ran into his
servant who was ranging Monterey and shouting for his 'Cap'n.' I
believe he found him too."
"It seemed to me that it was a little beyond even Yoscolo's talents to
play such a game in Monterey city unless some white man had encouraged
him."
The big man was greatly amused. "To tell the truth, Señor Mendoza, it
was I who was in a measure back of that game."
"I thought as much."
"You see Farquharson came across the Indian several months ago, and
played for his good offices. Not a bad idea, for a power of renegades
followed him. All of Yoscolo's Indians were to declare for English
sovereignty--much they know what it is. Yoscolo wanted money--the
clever rascal. He made the capture as near Farquharson's banker as
possible--a suggestion of mine. I figured that Farquharson deserved to
lose his money for his attempt at bribery. But the Englishman slipped
the toils. I heard Yoscolo nearly had a fit when the news reached him."
"You do not like Farquharson personally?"
A gust of anger came over O'Donnell's face. "No! No! The Englishman
is my enemy for something that occurred years ago in old Ireland."
"I too knew Farquharson many, many years ago. I have not seen him in
late times. I blamed him once for an act that reflected on his
judgment. Later he greatly distinguished himself at Waterloo. I am
surprised that he would stoop to bribery. In fact, the manner of
procedure of the English agents here has not disposed me to their
cause."
"So much the worse for England, and so much the better for the United
States," O'Donnell commented.
"Good friend O'Donnell, I favor the United States in the present matter
because they reach two thirds across the continent to us already;
because their government appeals to me; and, last but not least,
because their agent, Señor O'Donnell, is not attempting to rush our
people like sheep into the American fold."
"Three cheers for you, Señor Mendoza! Speak these words from the
housetops. Your patriotism will soon equal my own. The Irish and the
Spanish are always of one heart anyway."
"Some time ago I told you that if I played in this political game, I'd
use the trump that meant the most to the province of California. I am
far from forwarding my own interest in thus doing." He went to a
secretary and took therefrom a bulky envelope. Opening it he handed to
O'Donnell several papers, one of which read:
"On recommendation of the Duke of Wellington, Jesus Maria y José
Mendoza, of Mission San José, California, is tendered the office of
major-general in the army of Great Britain," and mentioning in highest
encomium Mendoza's masterful service from Talavera to the fall of
Toulouse which crushed Napoleon, and sent him to Elba. The document
was signed and sealed by high officials of the kingdom.
The other papers were personal letters from Wellington, the dates of
which ran through many years, urging Mendoza to accept promotion and
offering to advance him in every way should he come to England.
O'Donnell scanned the Administrator critically. "Yet you remained with
this province?"
"Yes. I cast my lot with California, and with her I shall live. An
English protectorate would, without doubt, be more to my own personal
advantage; however, I favor American rule here."
"But, Señor Mendoza, how about your neighbors, north and south?" All
at once the Irishman sat erect, suddenly realizing the full meaning of
the words he had read. "A major-general in the British army!" He
looked admiringly at Mendoza. "At my best I was but a
grenadier-sergeant."
"Friend O'Donnell, my neighbors, north and south, are playing 'Follow
the leader' in no small way. Señora Valentino, sister-in-law of our
acting-governor, Barcelo, is the leader. She has cleverly brought them
to the mountain top, and down the side they must go, by their own
impetus--unless, O'Donnell, we hold them back."
"I know of this señora. Young Peralta raves over her. Carillo sings
of her cleverness and beauty. The ladies vow she is a breath of old
Madrid come to enliven the air of far-away provincial California."
"The señora is a very clever and a very beautiful woman," added
Mendoza. "In Mexico I heard that she was coming here. She is famous
on three continents as a most successful diplomatist. I can well
believe she deserves the reputation."
"I'm sure of it--more than sure of it."
"Last night in my house my friends declared for the English flag. I
advised consideration. She adroitly opposed. Her wishes carried. An
attempt will be made to have the English government take possession at
once. We must forestall them, O'Donnell."
"By my faith! By my faith! we must!"
"I love California too much to see her tossed precipitously into any
hands, be it English or American."
The Irishman stormed back and forth over the floor.
Mendoza continued: "I have a plan, but the carrying it out would delay
for some time your journey across the mountains."
"Carson awaits my coming, if I delay a month. What is your plan?"
"To find just where the American fleet is; catch the attention of your
commodore; then call him for consultation with some of us here who have
not been swept off our feet by the clever Señora Valentino."
"Three days ago the fleet stood into the scimitar-shaped bay west of
here, Commodore Billings in command. He had sighted the British fleet
off Callao, Peru, and scudded ahead of them."
"Bueno! Bueno!"
"I'll get in touch with Billings as soon as I can."
"Let him run his ships till he can anchor off some spot nearest San
José Mission."
"The sooner I see the Commodore the better. Will you send a messenger
to my camp telling my braves to wait there till further orders?"
"To be sure."
"Well, now to the saddle. I set out on horseback to overtake an
ocean-going fleet. Ha! ha! ha!" the Irishman's wit coming to the fore.
"At least not till after breakfast."
"I've breakfasted already; thank you, señor. Adios!"
"Wait a minute. Tell me, have you been instrumental in keeping Yoscolo
from molesting our herds and our servants in the San Joaquin? It must
be some unusual influence, that has held him quiet this long."
"I've threatened him with a trouncing from the strong tribes in the
interior if he continues his deviltries. He met our chiefs in a great
powwow in the Sierras and spoke of peace to them, in the voice of a
cooing dove. They do not trust him; neither do I. I'll deliver the
thrashing if he breaks his word."
"I greatly regret, Señor O'Donnell, that our California valleys did not
know you years ago."
"The regret is mutual."
They passed out to the courtyard gate.
The house guests were returning from cool dips in the swimming ponds,
according to custom; then breakfast; then rest.
"Who is the stranger with our host?" one dueña asked of another.
"Doubtless some trader in tallow."
"Even the early morning after the baile leaves not the señor free from
their intrusion."
The men parted.