The monk who presented himself was the same who had figured at the
dinner-party. He was the senior of the two that directed the mission,
and in every respect the ruler of the establishment. He was known as
the Padre Joaquin, while his junior was the Padre Jorge. The latter was
a late addition to the post, whereas Padre Joaquin had been its director
almost since the time of its establishment. He was, therefore, an old
resident, and knew the history and character of every settler in the
valley. For some reason or other he held an inveterate dislike to the
family of the cibolero, to which he had given expression upon the
evening of the dinner-party,--although he assigned no cause for his
hostility. It could not have been because he regarded them as
"hereticos," for, though the Padre Joaquin was loud in his denunciations
of all who were outside the pale of the Church, yet in his own heart he
cared but little about such things. His zeal for religion was sheer
hypocrisy and worldly cunning. There was no vice practised in the
settlement in which Padre Joaquin did not take a leading part. An
adroit _monte_ player he was--ready to do a little cheating upon
occasions--a capital judge of game "gallos," ever ready to stake his
onzas upon a "main." In addition to these accomplishments, the padre
boasted of others. In his cups,--and this was nothing unusual,--he was
in the habit of relating the _liaisons_ and _amourettes_ of his earlier
life, and even some of later date. Although the neophytes of the
mission were supposed to be all native Tagnos with dark skins, yet there
was to be seen upon the establishment quite a crowd of young
_mestizoes_, both boys and girls, who were known as the "sobrinos" and
"sobrinas" of Padre Joaquin.
You cannot otherwise than deem this an exaggeration: you will imagine
that no reverend father could practise such conduct, and still be held
in any sort of respect by the people among whom he dwelt? So should I
have thought had I not witnessed with my own eyes and ears the
"priest-life" of Mexico. The immoralities here ascribed to Padre
Joaquin can scarcely be called exceptional in his class. They are
rather common than otherwise--some have even said _universal_.
It was no zealous feeling of religion, then, that could have "set" the
monk in such hostile attitude against the family of the poor cibolero.
No. It was some old grudge against the deceased father,--some cross
which the padre had experienced from him in the days of the former
Comandante.
As Padre Joaquin walked forward on the azotea, his busy bustling air
showed that he was charged with some "novedad;" and the triumphant smile
upon his countenance told that he calculated upon its being of interest
to those to whom he was about to communicate it.
"Good day, father!--Good day, your reverence!" said the Comandante and
Roblado speaking at the same time.
"_Buenos dias, cavalleros_!" responded the padre.
"Glad to see you, good father!" said Roblado. "You have saved me a
ride. I was just in the act of starting for the mission to wait upon
your reverence."
"And if you had come, capitan, I could have given you a luxury to lunch
upon. We have received our buffalo-tongues."
"Oh! you have!" cried Vizcarra and Roblado in the same breath, and with
an expression of interest that somewhat surprised the padre.
"Ha! you greedy _ladrones_! I see what you would be after. You would
have me send you some of them. You sha'n't have a slice though--that
is, unless you can give me something that will wash this dust out of my
throat. I'm woeful thirsty this morning."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the officers. "What shall it be, father?"
"Well--let me see.--Ah!--a cup of `Bordeos'--that you received by last
arrival."
The claret was ordered and brought up; and the padre, tossing off a
glassful, smacked his lips after it with the air of one who well knew
and appreciated the good quality of the wine.
"_Linda! lindisima_!" he exclaimed, rolling his eyes up to heaven, as if
everything good should come and go in that direction.
"And so, padre," said the impatient Roblado, "you have got your
buffalo-tongues? Your hunters, then, have returned?"
"They have; that is the business that brought me over."
"Good! that was the business that was about to take me to the mission."
"An onza we were both on the same errand!" challenged the padre.
"I won't bet, father; you always win."
"Come! you'd be glad to give an onza for my news."
"What news?--what news?" asked the officers at once, and with hurried
impatience of manner.
"Another cup of Bordeos, or I choke! The dust of that road is worse
than purgatory. Ah! this is a relief."
And again the padre swallowed a large glassful of claret, and smacked
his lips as before.
"Now your news, dear padre?"
"_Pues_, cavalleros--our hunters have returned!"
"_Y pues_?"
"_Pues que_! they have brought news."
"Of what?"
"Of our friend the cibolero."
"Of Carlos?"
"Precisely of that individual."
"What news? Have they seen him?"
"No, not exactly _him_, but _his trail_. They have discovered his lair,
and know where he is at this moment."
"Good!" exclaimed Vizcarra and Roblado.
"They can find him at any time."
"Excellent!"
"_Pues_, cavalleros; that is my news at your service. Use it to your
advantage, if you can."
"Dear padre!" replied Vizcarra, "yours is a wiser head than ours. You
know the situation of affairs. Our troopers _cannot catch_ this
villain. How would you advise us to act?"
The padre felt nattered by this confidence.
"Amigos!" said he, drawing both of them together, "I have been thinking
of this; and it is my opinion you will do just as well without the help
of a single soldier. Take these two hunters into your confidence--so
far as may be necessary--equip them for the work--set them on the trail;
and if they don't hunt down the heretic rascal, then I, Padre Joaquin,
have no knowledge of men."
"Why, padre!" said Roblado; "it's the very thing we have been thinking
about--the very business for which I was about to seek you."
"You had good reason, cavalleros. In my opinion, it's the best course
to be followed."
"But will your hunters go willingly to work? They are free men, and may
not like to engage in so dangerous an enterprise."
"Dangerous!" repeated the padre. "The danger will be no obstacle to
them, I promise you. They have the courage of lions and the agility of
tigers. You need not fear that danger will stand in the way."
"You think, then, they will be disposed to it?"
"They _are_ disposed--I have sounded them. They have some reasons of
their own for not loving the cibolero too dearly; and therefore,
cavalleros, you won't require to use much persuasion on that score. I
fancy you'll find them ready enough, for they have, been reading the
proclamation, and, if I mistake not, have been turning over in their
thoughts the fine promises it holds out. Make it sure to them that they
will be well rewarded, and they'll bring you the cibolero's ears, or his
scalp, or his whole carcase, if you prefer it, in less than three days
from the present time! They'll track him down, I warrant."
"Should we send some troopers along with them? The cibolero may not be
alone. We have reason to believe he has a half-blood with him--a sort
of right-hand man of his own--and with this help he may be quite a match
for your hunters."
"Not likely--they are very _demonios_. But you can consult themselves
about that. They will know best whether they need assistance. That is
their own affair, cavalleros. Let them decide."
"Shall we send for them? or will you send them to us?" inquired Roblado.
"Do you not think it would be better for one of you to go to _them_?
The matter should be managed privately. If they make their appearance
here, and hold an interview with either of you, your business with them
will be suspected, and perchance get known to _him_. If it should reach
his ears that these fellows are after him, their chances of taking him
would be greatly diminished."
"You are right, father," said Roblado. "How can we communicate with
these fellows privately?"
"Nothing easier than that, capitan. Go to their house--I should rather
say to their hut--for they live in a sort of hovel by the rocks. The
place is altogether out of the common track. No one will be likely to
see you on your visit. You must pass through a narrow road in the
chapparal; but I shall send you a guide who knows the spot, and he will
conduct you. I think it like enough the fellows will be expecting you,
as I hinted to them to stay at home--that possibly they might be wanted.
No doubt you'll find them there at this moment."
"When can you send up the guide?"
"He is here now--my own attendant will do. He is below in the court--
you need lose no time."
"No. Roblado," added the Comandante, "your horse is ready--you cannot
do better than go at once."
"Then go I shall: your guide, padre?"
"Esteban! Hola! Esteban!" cried the padre, leaning over the wall.
"_Aqui, Senor_," answered a voice.
"_Sube! sube! anda_!" (Come up quickly.)
The next moment an Indian boy appeared upon the azotea, and taking off
his hat approached the padre with an air of reverence.
"You will guide the capitan through the path in the chapparal to the
hunters' hut."
"Si, Senor."
"Don't tell any one you have done so."
"No, Senor."
"If you do you shall catch the `cuarto.' _Vaya_!"
Roblado, followed by the boy, descended the escalera; and, after being
helped on his horse, rode away from the gate.
The padre, at the invitation of Vizcarra, emptied another cup of
Bordeos; and then, telling his host that a luncheon of the new luxury
awaited him at the mission, he bade him good day, and shuffled off
homeward.
Vizcarra remained alone upon the azotea. Had any one been there to
watch him, they would have noticed that his countenance assumed a
strange and troubled expression every time his eyes chanced to wander in
the direction of La Nina.