At that moment upon the _azotea_ a man was pacing to and fro. He was
not a sentinel, though at opposite angles of the building two of these
could be seen who carried carbines--their heads and shoulders just
appearing above the crenated top of the battlement towers.
The man _en promenade_ was an officer, and the part of the azotea _upon_
which he moved was the roof of the officers' quarter, separated from the
rest by a wall of equal height with the parapet. It was, moreover, a
sacred precinct--not to be disturbed by the tread of common troopers on
ordinary occasions. It was the "quarterdeck" of the Presidio.
The officer was in full dress, though not on any duty; but a single
glance at the style and cut of his uniform would convince any one that
he was a "dandy soldier," and loved to appear at all times in fine
feathers. The gold-lace and bright-coloured broad-cloth seemed to
affect him as his rich plumage does the peacock. Every now and again he
paused in his promenade, glanced down at his lacquered boots, examined
the tournure of his limbs, or feasted his eyes upon the jewels that
studded his delicate white fingers.
He was no beauty withal nor hero either; but that did not prevent him
from indulging in the fancy that he was both--a combination of Mars and
Apollo.
He was a colonel in the Spanish army, however, and Comandante of the
Presidio--for the promenader in question was Vizcarra himself.
Though satisfied with his own appearance, he was evidently not satisfied
about something else. There was a cloud upon his features that not even
the contemplation of the lacquered boots or lily-white hands could
banish. Some disagreeable thought was pressing upon his mind, causing
him at intervals to make fitful starts, and look nervously around him.
"Bah! 'twas but a dream!" he muttered to himself. "Why should I think
of it? 'twas only a dream!"
His eyes were bent downward as he gave expression to these abrupt
phrases, and as he raised them again chance guided his look in the
direction of "La Nina Perdida." No, it was not chance, for La Nina had
figured in his dream, and his eyes were but following his thoughts.
The moment they rested on the cliff he started back as if some terrible
spectre were before him, and mechanically caught hold of the parapet.
His cheeks suddenly blanched, his jaws fell, and his chest heaved, in
hurried and convulsive breathing!
What can cause these symptoms of strong emotion? Is it the sight of
yonder horseman standing upon the very pinnacle of the bluff, and
outlined against the pale sky? What is there in such an appearance to
terrify the Comandante--for terrified he is? Hear him!
"My God! my God!--it is _he_! The form of his horse--of himself--just
as he appeared--it is he! I fear to look at him! I cannot--"
And the officer averted his face for a moment, covering it with his
hands.
It was but a moment, and again he looked upwards. Not curiosity, but
the fascination of fear, caused him to look again. The horseman had
disappeared. Neither horse nor man--no object of any sort--broke the
line of the bluffs!
"Surely I have been dreaming again?" muttered the still trembling
caitiff. "Surely I have? There was no one there, least of all--. How
could he? He is hundreds of miles off! It was an illusion! Ha! ha!
ha! What the devil is the matter with my senses, I wonder? That horrid
dream of last night has bewitched them! _Carrambo_! I'll think no more
of it?"
As he said this he resumed his pace more briskly, believing that that
might rid him of his unpleasant reflections. At every turn, however,
his eyes again sought the bluff, and swept along its edge with a glance
that betokened fear. But they saw no more of the spectre horseman, and
their owner began to feel at ease again.
A footstep was heard upon the stone steps of the "escalera." Some one
was ascending to the roof.
The next moment the head and shoulders of a man were visible; and
Captain Roblado stepped out upon the azotea.
The "buenos dias" that passed between him and Vizcarra showed that it
was their first meeting for that day. In fact, neither had been long
up; for the hour was not yet too late for fashionable sleepers. Roblado
had just breakfasted, and come out on the azotea to enjoy his Havannah.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed he, as he lighted the cigar, "what a droll
masquerade it has been! 'Pon my soul! I can scarce get the paint off;
and my voice, after such yelling, won't recover for a week! Ha! ha!
Never was maiden wooed and won in such a romantic, roundabout way.
Shepherds attacked--sheep driven off and scattered to the winds--cattle
carried away and killed in regular _battue_--old woman knocked over, and
rancho given to the flames--besides three days of marching and
countermarching, travestying Indian, and whooping till one is hoarse;
and all this trouble for a poor _paisana_--daughter of a reputed witch!
Ha! ha! ha! It would read like a chapter in some Eastern romance--
Aladdin, for instance--only that the maiden was not rescued by some
process of magic or knight-errantry. Ha! ha ha!"
This speech of Roblado will disclose what is, perhaps, guessed at
already--that the late incursion of "los barbaros" was neither more nor
less than an affair got up by Vizcarra and himself to cover the
abduction of the cibolero's sister. The Indians who had harried the
sheep and cattle--who had attacked the hacienda of Don Juan--who had
fired the rancho and carried off Rosita--were Colonel Vizcarra, his
officer Captain Roblado, his sergeant Gomez, and a soldier named Jose--
another minion of his confidence and will.
There were but the four, as that number was deemed sufficient for the
accomplishment of the atrocious deed; and rumour, backed by fear, gave
them the strength of four hundred. Besides, the fewer in the secret the
better. This was the prudence or cunning of Roblado.
Most cunningly, too, had they taken their measures. The game, from
beginning to end, was played with design and execution worthy of a
better cause. The shepherds were first attacked on the upper plain, to
give certainty to the report that hostile Indians were near. The
scouting-parties were sent out from the Presidio, and proclamations
issued to the inhabitants to be on their guard--all for effect; and the
further swoop upon the cattle was clear proof of the presence of "los
barbaros" in the valley. In this foray the fiendish masquers took an
opportunity of "killing two birds with one stone;" for, in addition to
carrying out their general design, they gratified the mean revenge which
they held against the young ranchero.
Their slaughtering his cattle in the ravine had a double object. First,
the loss it would be to him gave them satisfaction; but their principal
motive was that the animals might not stray back to the settlement. Had
they done so, after having been captured by Indians, it would have
looked suspicious. As it was, they hoped that, long before any one
should discover the _battue_, the wolves and buzzard would do their
work; and the bones would only supply food for conjecture. This was the
more probable, as it was not likely, while the Indian alarm lasted, that
any one would be bold enough to venture that way. There was no
settlement or road, except Indian trails, leading in that direction.
Even when the final step was taken, and the victim carried off, she was
not brought _directly_ to the Presidio; for even _she_ was to be
hoodwinked. On the contrary, she was tied upon a mule, led by one of
the ruffians, and permitted to see the way they were going, until they
had reached the point where their trail turned back. She was then
blinded by a leathern "tapado," and in that state carried to the
Presidio, and within its walls--utterly ignorant of the distance she had
travelled, and the place where she was finally permitted to rest.
Every act in the diabolical drama was conceived with astuteness, and
enacted with a precision which must do credit to the head of Captain
Roblado, if not to his heart. He was the principal actor in the whole
affair.
Vizcarra had, at first, some scruples about the affair--not on the score
of conscience, but of impracticability and fear of detection. This
would indeed have done him a serious injury. The discovery of such a
villainous scheme would have spread like wildfire over the whole
country. It would have been ruin to him.
Roblado's eloquence, combined with his own vile desires, overruled the
slight opposition of his superior; and, once entered on the affair, the
latter found himself highly amused in carrying it out. The burlesque
proclamations, the exaggerated stories of Indians, the terror of the
citizens, their encomiums on his own energetic and valorous conduct--all
these were a pleasant relief to the _ennui_ of a barrack life and,
during the several days' visit of "los barbaros," the Comandante and his
captain were never without a theme for mirth and laughter.
So adroitly had they managed the whole matter that, upon the morning
after the final _coup_ of the robbers--the abduction of Rosita--there
was not a soul in the settlement, themselves and their two aides
excepted, that had the slightest suspicion but that real hostile Indians
were the actors!
Yes, there was one other who had a suspicion--only a suspicion--Rosita's
mother. Even the girl believed herself in the hands of Indians--_if
belief she had_.