CHAPTER V.

Assassination of the young Spanish Noble.

On returning to the town, I inquired which of the three or four hotels

in Guanajuata was the cheapest, convinced that it was only in one of

that description that the Biscayan was to be found. I was right in my

conjecture, for the first person I met on alighting in the court-yard of

the posada was Don Jaime de Villalobos. He was just going out when I

presented myself suddenly before him, and I had scarcely dismounted ere

he pressed me in his arms, according to the manner of his country. For

my part, I listened with interest to his adventures after our

separation. He told me that he had arrived at Guanajuato almost four

days before me, and that his utmost wishes had been realized. A priest,

who had been gained over by the relative of Donna Luz, had married them

without difficulty, and since that time his young wife had been hidden

in a convent, where he saw her every day, until he could take such steps

as would allow them to leave Mexico. One circumstance only caused him a

little alarm: he believed that he met in the streets, the night before,

one of the servants who was in the train of his wife's father at the

venta of Arroyo Zarco.

"But as I fancy that I see every where the appearance of spies and

robbers," he said, gayly, "it is more than probable that I am deceived,

and that they are seeking me at a greater distance than where I really

am. And you," added he, "have you laid your hand on Don Tomas Verdugo

yet?"

"No; and, from all I have learned about him, I am more anxious to avoid

him now than I was to meet him before." And I recounted my adventure in

the ravine with Florencio Planillas. "Your cloak," I added, "served me a

bad turn, for it is similar to one that the informer against Florencio

wears, one Remigio Vasquez."

At the name Don Jaime turned pale, and cried,

"What! was it Remigio Vasquez that the scoundrel had in mind to shoot?

and do they accuse him of a crime which he never contemplated? Ah! my

presentiments have not deceived me."

"Why?"

"Remigio Vasquez is the name I bear here."

This unexpected revelation caused me to shudder. Perhaps, even now, that

villain, whose knife was at every one's service, might have been sent

upon the Biscayan's track to satisfy the vengeance of the injured

father. I told him what my opinion was upon the matter, and insisted

upon his staying within doors for a few days; but the Spanish nobleman

had now recovered all his former courage.

"No," he said, "Luzecita waits me at the convent. Not to go to see her

would plunge her into the deepest grief. No one can escape their

destiny."

We talked together a short time longer. As he insensibly lapsed into a

gloomy mood, I tried to jest with him upon our actual position.

"As for me," I said, "I shall be more prudent than you. I am going to

bury myself in the deepest mine I can find, and it will be a terrible

thing if this horrid Verdugo meets me eighteen hundred feet below

ground."

We separated, Don Jaime to the convent, and I to visit one of the most

easily accessible mines in the neighborhood. As I was crossing the

square on my way to the outskirts of the town, I fancied I distinguished

the well-known face of Florencio Planillas at the door of a pulqueria.

Delighted at having this opportunity of undeceiving him as to the

intention of Remigio Vasquez, or rather Don Jaime, I went up to the

door, in spite of the repugnance I have for these Mexican cabarets,

where both men and women sit drinking that abominable liquor prepared

from fermented _pulque_.[30] Whether Florencio had seen, and wished to

avoid me, I know not; at any rate, he disappeared into the shop. The

life of Don Jaime doubtless depended on the interview I was going to

have with Florencio. I stepped over some drunkards, quite intoxicated,

who were lying, clothed in rags, across the doorway, and entered the

pulqueria. What a fantastical appearance met my eye! The walls were

covered with frescoes of the most incredible nature, representing

ancient grotesque personages, pictures of drunken brawls, of murder, of

love, of giants, dwarfs, and cavaliers, accompanied with the most

startling devices, and all surmounted with this clinching inscription:

(_Hoy se paga, mañana se fia_)--_Pay now, credit afterward_. Large open

vats, filled with a milky liquor, from which exhaled a horrible smell,

were placed all round the room, and the publican was busily engaged

ladling it out with a calabash for his customers, among whom I soon

recognized Florencio.

"Ah! Señor Cavalier," cried he, advancing with the glass in his hand,

"allow me to offer you--"

"No, I am not thirsty; but I have some good news for you."

I tried then to tell him that he had been falsely informed when he had

been told that the person who was trying to dispossess him of his mine

was Remigio Vasquez. It was a long time before I could make the

obfuscated drunkard understand the purport of my visit, and undeceive

him with regard to the Biscayan.

"You see that I am delighted," cried he, when he had at last made out

the meaning of my words.

"For poor Remigio's sake?" I said.

"No, for my own sake. I don't fear his information," he replied, with a

drunken frankness; "but if that change my intentions regarding him,

Remigio Vasquez's affair is not a bit improved. I mean to say--(and,

swallowing what remained in his glass, he seemed to be trying to collect

his thoughts)--I mean that it is capital for--for--"

"For whom?" I exclaimed, losing all patience.

"Ah! caramba, for our intimate friend, the respectable Don Tomas

Verdugo, as your lordship styles him."

And the miner was not slow in telling me that the bravo would receive a

considerable sum from the injured father, as he had been told, to avenge

the insult offered to his outraged family.

"And where is Don Tomas?" I inquired of Florencio. "I am sure that I can

undeceive him as well as yourself."

"I think I know where he is at present," replied Planillas.

"Well, why do you wait here? Let us set out immediately in search of

him."

"I would like well enough to be off; but, you see, I can't quit this

place without paying my score, and I have not a single tlaco about me."

"That needn't detain you. Call the publican."

"Truly," said Florencio, with much effrontery, "yesterday evening you

partook of my hospitality; if you clear my expenses to-day, we shall be

quits."

The publican immediately appeared, and I inquired how much Florencio

owed him. The miner tipped him the wink, and the other immediately said,

"Two piastres." This was far too much, and the drunken scoundrel would

very likely gain a piastre and a half by it; but time was precious. I

yielded, and we hastened in pursuit of Don Tomas. Unluckily, the

tottering legs of my companion but ill seconded my efforts, and I was

obliged to proceed very slowly. In this manner we traversed a

considerable part of the town. Every now and then the drunken rascal

stopped before a house, saying he was within, but he was invariably

mistaken. We at last stood before a dark, steep, wet alley, at the end

of which you saw the dusky light which issued from a garden.

"Are you sure you are right this time?" I asked anxiously of Florencio;

"for time is passing, and poor Vasquez is in danger of his life."

"He is there, assuredly," stammered my companion; "for I could never

forgive myself if I had arrived too late, and any misfortune (here his

eyes became bathed in maudlin tears) were to happen to Don Tomas. Such a

worthy man as he is, too!"

After this burst of sensibility, which failed signally in its object,

Florencio plunged into the lane, and I remained alone, for I thought

that we could no longer proceed together. I walked about in the street,

a prey to anxiety easy to comprehend, counting the minutes, which seemed

centuries, and expecting every moment to see this Don Tomas, who had not

been out of my thoughts for so many days, appear before me; but time

passed, and he did not make his appearance. An hour was spent in this

manner, and at last I decided on going to the house myself. I walked

through the dark alley, entered the garden at the other end, and the

first thing I saw was a man stretched on the ground. This was the

unhappy Florencio, who was snoring as if he would burst his nostrils,

and had forgotten every thing in his drunkenness. I retraced my steps,

resolving to trust to myself only; but it was a long time before I found

myself in a part of the town I knew. I got to my hotel with some

difficulty. Cecilio met me at the gate.

"Ah!" cried he, on seeing me, "what a dreadful misfortune has happened!

The young cavalier that you met this morning had a quarrel fixed on him

by a passenger in the street, and they have carried him to his own room.

He is dead, there's no doubt of it."

Such an occurrence is so common in Mexico that no unusual stir was

visible in the hotel as I mounted the stairs to go to Don Jaime's room.

The poor young man, uncared for, untended, appeared to be sleeping the

most tranquil sleep of all, upon a bench of stone, with a bloody sheet

thrown over him. The fresh air which struck his face as I lifted the

cloth caused him to open his eyes, over which the glaze of death was

already stealing.

"I know who you are," he said; "it was you who succored me when I was in

want, and you will remain by me till the last, I am sure. Thank you."

The Biscayan gave me his clay-cold hand.

"My hand is burning hot, is it not? A few minutes ago _she_ pressed it

between both of _hers_. Good God! what will she say when she never sees

me again?"

"Never fear," I replied. "Tell me where I can see Donna Luz."

The Biscayan whispered her address into my ear.

"Now," replied he, "it is useless. My hours are numbered; she will come

too late! When I am gone, don't tell her that she was the cause of my

death. Inform her only that my last thought was of her."

Some rambling, unconnected words now escaped from the poor Spaniard--his

mother's name, his country's, and his dear wife's, for whom he had paid

the penalty of his life. While the exterior world was gradually fading

from his eyes, the sweet and holy impressions of childhood, the first

imprinted on the heart of man, and the last to leave it, still threw a

few bright beams athwart the thickening darkness of his thoughts. All at

once, turning himself to me, he exclaimed, in a clear, distinct voice,

"You will go and see my mother, won't you? Be it a year after this, or

even ten. Say this to console her, that I died worth millions, but not

that I breathed my last on such a bed as this."

I bowed in token of assent, and Don Jaime employed the little strength

that was left him in telling me where to find his house, near Vergara,

in Biscay. I promised to fulfill this last request. A vague, meaningless

smile now played upon the dying man's lips, that moved only in a prayer

he put up in which his mother's name was mentioned. These were his last

words. I wiped away the foam that covered his lips with a corner of his

cloak, and closed the eyes, which were wide open and staring. At this

moment somebody touched me on the shoulder. I turned about. A man whose

entrance I had not noticed stood behind me. By his staff I saw he was an

alcalde.

"Well, Señor Cavalier," said he, "you would give something, I know, to

have satisfaction for the death of this young man. I am convinced you

would; be calm--the eye of justice sees it all."

"When it is too late," I said, in a low tone.

"Is he a friend--a relation--a brother perhaps?" asked the alcalde.

I knew Mexican law too well to allow myself to be taken in by this

appearance of compassion and interest, and said nothing.

"Well, I am waiting for your declaration," pursued he, with an engaging

air.

"My declaration, Señor Alcalde, is this" (and I inwardly asked pardon of

the corpse lying before me for the lie I was about to utter): "I declare

that I don't know, nor ever have known, this young man."[31]

The disappointed alcalde was not long in leaving the room.

"Ah! Señor Cavalier," said the huesped, who had witnessed the whole

scene, "you are a foreigner, it is true, but you did not come into the

country yesterday."

I pretended not to comprehend the compliment he had paid me, and threw a

last glance at the poor Biscayan. His face wore that aspect of serenity

and peace which often appears on men who have died a violent death. A

quiet smile played upon his lips. Though only commenced a few days

before, the short connection I had had with Don Jaime was now closed. As

regards the mysterious link which bound me to Don Tomas, that was not

broken for some time afterward.

A year had passed since the death of the Biscayan. I had quitted Mexico.

Besides the promise I had given Don Jaime, a less romantic motive, one

quite personal, led me into Spain. The embers of the civil war were then

fast dying out. The diligences which plied between Bayonne and Madrid,

and the towns between those cities, had stopped running in consequence

of the Carlist bands which infested the Basque frontier. I reached

Bilboa, and it was only at great expense that I could procure a pair of

horses and a guide. This man, who was to leave me at Vergara, from

whence I could reach St. Sebastian, had himself served in the Carlist

ranks. From Bilboa to Vergara is almost thirty miles. Throughout this

wide extent of country, the people in the villages, fearing invasion,

had emigrated in bands, and the road, dangerous even at its best, would

have appeared very long without the stories of my guide. We arrived at

Vergara at nightfall; the townsmen were fast deserting it. A Carlist

band had announced its arrival. My guide could go no farther, his pass

not permitting him to leave the town. A league farther on the horses

would be seized and himself arrested.

"I must leave you," he said, "but I am very sorry for it. I know my old

comrades well; and may the holy Virgin keep you from falling into their

hands."

"My nationality protects me," I exclaimed; "I fear neither Carlist nor

Christino."

"Your being a Frenchman will not avail you, for--for--for--" The good

man, hesitating for a while, added, "For you will probably be hung

offhand."

This did not startle me much; I knew, if my life were in peril, I should

find a secure retreat in the house of the mother of poor Don Jaime, who

had once been a Carlist officer. The mountaineer, who could not account

for my coolness, shook me by the hand and said,

"You are a brave fellow, by heavens! and I hope they will shoot rather

than hang you."

The ex-Carlist quitted me. I left my valise at an inn, and, after

learning the direction of the castle of Tronera, a place which every

body seemed to know, set out on foot. It was about three quarters of a

mile from the town. The castle of Villalobos, as I expected, was a

gloomy enough place, and the wind was whistling in the angles of the

crumbling turrets with a noise which sounded to me like the drums of a

Carlist band. Flocks of swallows were darting in and out of some

apertures in the loose tiles on the roof. The shutters were all closed;

some scaffolding, however, raised at different parts of the building,

showed that repairs had been begun, but had been interrupted. The

castle seemed deserted. I knocked at the door. Some seconds elapsed, and

a woman, clad in black, appeared. I desired her to announce to her

mistress that a stranger had arrived from America, and was the bearer of

some important news.

"Alas!" replied the woman, "the poor lady died six months ago, and I am

looking for her son every day."

"He is dead too!" I exclaimed.

I then learned that, some time before my arrival, the mother of Don

Jaime had been presented with a considerable sum of money. As no letter

had accompanied the remittance, she concluded that the unknown

benefactor must have been her son. This sudden change in her fortune had

a fatal effect upon her. When on her death-bed, she had ordered the

money to be laid out in rendering the castle worthy of the residence of

its young master, and had died thanking God that he had allowed a gleam

of prosperity to shine at last upon the old race of Villalobos.

I had fulfilled my promise, and did not remain long at the chateau. It

is needless to add that, contrary to the warning of my guide, I finished

my excursion without meeting even the shadow of a Carlist band or

Christino detachment.

FOOTNOTES:

[30] The sap of the aloe, which is first as sweet as honey, but by

fermentation becomes stinking, sour, and heady.

[31] By professing relationship, or even acquaintance, with one who has

fallen by assassination, you render yourself, in Mexico, bound to defray

the expenses of justice.

The Miners of Rayas.

CHAPTER I.

The Hand upon the Wall.--Desiderio Fuentes, the lucky Miner.--Don Tomas

Verduzco.

Hardly a century ago, Guanajuato was a town of very little importance.

Before the sudden change in its fortune, which resulted from the rich

yield of silver in the Valenciana and Rayas mines, the mining industry

of Mexico had concentrated its activity in the works of Tasco, Pachuca,

and Zacatecas. The title of _ciudad_ (city) had been borne by Zacatecas

since 1588, while Guanajuato, though founded in 1554, did not attain

that rank till seventy-eight years later, in 1741. It was not known that

the mountains inclosing it on all sides, and on the slope of which it

was built, held within their stony bosom the _Veta Madre_ (Mother Vein),

the richest lode of silver in the world. The situation of Guanajuato is,

besides, doubly advantageous. The city is situated at once in the

richest mining district in Mexico, and in the best cultivated part of

the fertile plains of the Bajio.[32] It is thus the inhabitants call

that large extent of country, about eighty leagues in circumference,

which is bounded toward the side of Guanajuato by the Cordillera.

Alternately parched and inundated, the Bajio presents at all seasons an

aspect singularly picturesque. During the rainy season, the winter of

those favored climes, the sky, which loses its blue without losing its

softness, floods the plains with fertilizing torrents. For several hours

a day the Bajio is a vast lake, studded with tufts of verdure, with blue

hills, with groups of white houses and enameled cupolas. On this sheet

of water the green summits of the trees alone reveal to the traveler the

capricious meanderings of the inundated road. Soon, however, the thirsty

soil has imbibed the moisture through the innumerable cracks that eight

months' drought has left in its surface. A layer of slime, deposited by

the heavy rains and the torrents from the Cordillera, has enriched the

impoverished earth. The heavens are clear and cloudless as before. The

springs, freed from the crust which obstructed them, gush out more

abundantly from the foot of the _ahuehuetl_.[33] The Peruvian-tree, the

gum-tree, the golden-flowered _huisache_, amid whose blossoms the

scarlet-plumed parrots scream, shade and perfume the now consolidated

roads. The songs of muleteers and the bells of mules resound in the blue

distance, mingled with the shrill creaking of cart-wheels. It is the

time when the Indian laborer returns to his toils. Like the shepherd in

the Georgics, with his leathern buskins, his short tunic, and bare legs,

he lazily goads the oxen at the plow. And such is the fertility of this

soil, that splendid crops cover the ground which the plow has scarcely

furrowed. Still, it is not in the rich plain alone that nature has been

most indulgent to the happy dwellers in the Bajio. Over the fertile

valleys in the vicinity of Guanajuato, the Cordillera rears its

metalliferous crest, whose sides are veined with lodes of gold and

silver, and which delivers to the mattock of the miner the immense

treasures of the Veta Madre.[34] The striking contrast that is visible

between the laborer and the miner is nowhere so strongly apparent as in

this part of the Bajio. Humble and submissive, the Indian husbandman is

at every one's mercy. The miner, haughty and independent, takes a higher

rank; and this claim is justified, we must admit, by the importance of

the duty he performs. Obliged to submit to labor which yields him only

limited results, the husbandman finishes his work in silence, while the

pickaxe of the miner resounds, so to speak, to the end of the world, and

is constantly adding, at every stroke, to the riches of mankind.

Prosperity is not long in coming to the indefatigable miner. The slopes

of the hills, the ravines, and the summits of the mountains swarm with a

dense population, among whom the lucky finders of a new lode scatter

their hard-earned money with thoughtless liberality, and squander in one

day the earnings of six months. From the French miner Laborde, who

lavished thousands upon Cathedrals, down to the meanest _peon_, the

history of this bold workman has been always the same. Fortune is the

only god he worships. He goes to his dangerous occupation as if

specially sent thither by Divine Providence; and this proud thought is

favored by the laws of the country, old privileges according the title

of nobility to the worker in the mines. Even at this day he can not be

dispossessed by his creditors of his mine, if he can afford to work it.

It appears that there is a tendency to respect the descendants of a

privileged race. Besides a knowledge of metals to guide him in his

search, the miner must be endowed with a number of rare qualities; from

that vigorous strength indispensable to one who has to raise heavy

burdens, and support all day, on scanty wages, the enervating fatigue of

under-ground work, down to activity and pliancy of limb, united with

undaunted resolution and coolness. These qualities, it must be owned,

are never found in the same man without corresponding defects. A

capricious and undisciplined being, the miner only employs all his tact

and energy if interested in the success of his enterprise. Sometimes,

after toiling for a month, during which he has hardly earned enough to

live upon--in a week, or even in a day, he recompenses himself for his

long privations. The miner then thanks Dame Fortune. He scatters his

gold with a lavish hand, and returns to his work only after all his

gains are exhausted. At times he enriches himself by secretly pilfering

the ore which really belongs to the proprietor of the mine, and the

miners are but too expert at this species of theft.

It was in the midst of a population like this that I found myself at

Guanajuato, after the dangerous and useless search recorded in the

preceding chapters. I did not wish to let this opportunity escape me of

observing upon this theatre of action a class of men, of whom the

_gambusinos_, or gold-seekers of the Sonora, give one only an imperfect

idea. After spending a day in repose, which the many painful events I

had encountered rendered necessary, I went out next morning to visit the

mines in the neighborhood of Guanajuato. While crossing the great

square, and keeping myself on my guard, my attention was arrested by an

unusual object. Nailed against the wall, and under a small pent-house,

was a human hand cut off by the wrist. I stopped my horse to assure

myself that it was not a plaster cast. A moment's examination was

sufficient to convince me that it was indeed a human hand, once strong

and muscular, but now blanched and withered by the wind, the sun, and

the rain. Under the pent-house some half-burned candles told that pious

souls had been touched by this strange exhibition, which seemed destined

to perpetuate the remembrance of some bloody deed. After seeking in vain

upon the wall an explanatory inscription, I continued my journey; but,

during my short stay, a horseman had approached, and seemed determined

to keep close by me. At any other time I would have accepted with a bad

grace the company of the unknown, but I had come out, you must remember,

in quest of a guide. I stopped my horse, and put some questions to him.

The stranger bowed courteously.

"You are a stranger, Señor Cavalier," said he, with a smile.

"How do you know that?" I replied, a little astonished at his abrupt way

of beginning a conversation.

"The curious way in which you gazed upon that withered hand sufficiently

convinced me that you have not been long in the town, and had not much

time to lose. I must say that, for me, who am looking out for a

companion, our meeting is a lucky one."

I was not quite sure if I ought to accept with much cordiality the

companionship so familiarly thrust upon me. He seemed to observe my

hesitation, and exclaimed, with a certain degree of haughtiness, "You

do not know me, and I am unwilling that you should for a moment suppose

that you have got to do with some of those poor devils who are always

ready to offer their services to the first stranger they meet. My name

is Desiderio Fuentes. I am a miner; and, in the profession I exercise,

there are some days on which fortune is unkind, and others on which you

amass so much money that you do not know how to get rid of it. I am in

the latter condition at present; and my invariable custom, on an

occasion of this kind, is to procure some jolly companion who can share

in my pleasures. If I can't get one, I take up with the first cavalier

of good appearance I meet, and I confess that I have never had occasion

yet to blame Fortune for the comrade she sent me."

This frank declaration reassured me completely. I told Desiderio,

however, that I could not accept of his cordial offer. I had come to

visit the silver mines in the immediate vicinity of Guanajuato, and was

unwilling to waste in his company the time that I intended to devote to

such a purpose, supposing always that he would not serve me as a guide.

Desiderio preferred doing this rather than relinquish my society, being

but too happy to escape from his own thoughts, were it only for a few

hours. This bargain made, we spurred our horses, and a few minutes

afterward got clear of the town.

On the road my guide informed me that he had made a lucky hit the night

before, and that he could take his _far niente_ for several days to come

from the proceeds of a _partido_.[35] He added that it would be a

delightful recreation for him to visit the mines in the neighborhood as

an amateur, and he desired me to choose the one I had a mind to visit,

premising only that he would rather not go to the Valenciana, as he

happened to have a quarrel with one of the administrators. He wished to

keep away from the Mellado, because he owed some money to one of the

workmen there; and as for the Cata, certain misunderstandings of recent

date caused him to avoid it with the greatest care. In spite of the

apparent liberty of choice he had granted me, I saw no other way of

accomplishing my object but by going to inspect the Rayas--the only one

open to me. The precautions which Desiderio Fuentes was forced to take

did not say much in his favor. My new friend was evidently very

quarrelsome. He had certainly no love for paying his debts, and in his

misunderstandings (_désavencias_) his knife had doubtless played no

unimportant part. I began to entertain but a very indifferent opinion of

my companion. One expression especially that escaped the miner caused me

to reflect.

"My first impulse is always very good," he said, "but I own my second is

detestable."

We had now come to the extremity of a ravine whose precipitous sides had

till now obstructed the view. A beautifully level plain lay stretched

before us. Long strings of mules, laden with ore, were slowly making

their way to one of those metallurgic establishments known in Mexico as

a _hacienda de platas_. High chimney-stacks, from which volumes of smoke

and leaden vapors rolled, now appeared; the stone _patros_ also, on

which the fluid metal is poured a day before its formation into ingots.

The noise of the hammer pounding the argentiferous rock, the clattering

of the mules' hoofs, and the cracking of whips, were mingled with the

hoarser sound of the falling water that moved the machinery. I had

stopped my horse to gaze on this animated scene, but my attention was

soon attracted elsewhere. A few paces distant, but half hidden from us

by a hollow in the road, I espied two men dragging along with ropes the

carcass of a mule. Having arrived at a place where Desiderio and I could

alone see them, one of them stooped over the dead mule, and seemed to

examine it curiously, casting at the same time a suspicious glance

around. The moment he caught sight of us, he flopped down on the carcass

that he had been dragging a minute before, while his companion

immediately disappeared in a dense thicket of low trees and brushwood.

"Well, I thought I was right," said Fuentes. "It is my friend Planillas;

but what the devil is he doing there?"

At the name of Planillas I shuddered involuntarily, and, preceded by

Fuentes, made my way directly to the place where the man was seated on

the mule. I hoped to obtain some information from the friend of Don

Tomas Verduzco as to the part the bravo had played in the murder of my

friend Don Jaime. Planillas, his elbows on his knees, and his head on

his hands, appeared overwhelmed by violent grief. The noise of our

approach drew him at last from his abstraction, and he looked up at us,

but with an expression of uneasiness rather than of sorrow.

"Ah! señores," cried he, "in me you behold the most miserable man in all

New Spain."

"You are doubtless thinking," I replied, "of the young cavalier whom Don

Tomas assassinated two days ago, and whose blood is on your head, since

you might have saved his life by stopping the hand of your friend--of

that Don Tomas who had been paid to kill him, you told me."

"Did I say that?" cried Florencio; "then, by the life of my mother, I

lied. I am a terrible liar when in drink; and you know, Señor Cavalier,

I had drunk a great deal that day."

Florencio paused, visibly embarrassed. Fuentes thereupon asked him why

he was in such a state of grief when we came up, and why he persisted in

taking the carcass of a mule for a seat.

"This mule is the cause of my sorrow," replied Planillas. "Although I

was tenderly attached to her, I had sold her in my misery to the

hacienda de platas you see in the valley below. I got employment in the

work-shops to be near her; but, alas! the poor beast died this morning,

and I have dragged her to this lonely place in order to mourn over her

undisturbed."

Planillas again plunged his head between his hands with the air of a man

who will not be consoled; then, doubtless, to turn the conversation,

"Ah! Señor Cavalier," he said, "that is not my only misfortune.

Yesterday a fight took place between the miners of Rayas and those of

Mellado, and I was not there."

"I see nothing so unfortunate in that."

"Nothing unfortunate!" vociferated Planillas. "Ah! it was not one of

those vulgar encounters that one sees every day; and you would never

guess how it terminated--by a shower of piastres which the miners of

Mellado poured upon their adversaries to prove the superiority of their

mine. Ah! the beautiful eagle piastres!" he added, with a broken-hearted

air; "and I was too late in the field."

I could better understand Planillas's grief for this last

disappointment; but I should have doubted this excess of arrogant

prodigality on the part of the Mellado miners had not Fuentes confirmed,

with proud satisfaction, the truth of the tale. My companion would again

have questioned Planillas, of whose lamentations he appeared suspicious,

but a sudden cracking of branches in the brushwood behind us attracted

his attention. A little thick-set man, a sort of dwarf Hercules, with a

somewhat stern expression of countenance, stood before us. He saluted us

politely, and sat down on the ground beside Planillas. His mouth tried

to smile, but his glance, sinister and piercing as that of a bird of

prey, belied the feigned gayety. We were silent for a few moments. The

new-comer was the first to speak.

"You were talking just now," he said, "if my ears did not deceive me, of

one Don Tomas. Could it be of Don Tomas Verduzco you were speaking?" He

said this in a soft and silky tone, that contrasted strongly with the

evil expression of his countenance. This simple question, coming from a

man who had at once inspired me with the strongest repugnance, sounded

very much like an insult.

"Precisely," I replied, exerting myself to keep cool; "I accused Don

Tomas of the murder of a young man whom he did not even know the night

before."

"Are you sure?" said the man, with a sinister glance.

"Ask this wretch!" I replied, pointing to Planillas.

On hearing this, Planillas bounced up as if he had been touched by a

spring. He appeared to have recovered all his assurance. "I never said

any thing of the kind. But your lordship," cried he, in an ironical

tone, "is surely not acquainted with the respectable Don Tomas

Verduzco, since you speak so in his presence."

I looked at the man thus denounced to me, and whom I now beheld for the

first time. Imagination placed before me the bleeding body of Don Jaime,

his agony, his last moments, and his happy future, all cut off in an

instant by the knife of the man before me.

"Ah! you are Don Tomas Verduzco--" I could not finish. A sort of

faintness came over me, and, without accounting to myself for what I was

about to do, I cocked one of my pistols. At the click of the lock the

stranger's face became livid, for Mexicans of the lower classes, who

will not wince at the glitter of a knife-blade, tremble at the sight of

a fire-arm in a European hand. He never stirred, however. Fuentes threw

himself between us.

"Gently, señor! gently, Cascaras! how you take the customs of the

country!"

"The deuce take that Planillas," said the stranger, with a forced laugh;

"he is always playing off some joke or other. But the idea of passing me

off as Don Tomas is too absurd. Has your lordship any interest, then, in

this Don Tomas?"

My passion appeared to me ridiculous, and passed away as by enchantment.

"I do not even know him," I replied, somewhat confusedly, but with all

my former coolness. "I can not tell how he has got mixed up in my

affairs; but I think I owe it to my safety to show no mercy to such

assassins when chance throws them in my way."

The stranger muttered some unintelligible words. I thought the

opportunity a good one to get rid of my new friend Desiderio, whose

companionship was becoming somewhat burdensome to me, so I saluted the

group and rode off; but I had not counted on the idleness of Fuentes,

for, before I had gone a hundred yards, he had overtaken me.

"I was perhaps wrong," he said, "to interfere in this affair, and to

prevent you from lodging a bullet in the head of that ill-looking knave;

for, judging from the revengeful look he cast at you, I presume the

first stroke of a knife you will receive will be from his hand."

"Do you think so?" I replied, rather startled at this unpleasant

prediction.

"I yielded, in truth, too readily to my first impulse," continued

Fuentes, who seemed in a reverie. "What if we went back?" he said. "You

might then resume the affair at the point at which you left it, and, in

case of need, I would help you."

It was quite clear that Fuentes regretted having let slip this nice

opportunity for a quarrel. I dryly refused his offer, and thought to

myself that, decidedly, his second impulse was worse than his first.

"You won't! Well, it's no great matter. After all, who cares for a

knife-thrust more or less? I have received three in my time, and am not

a bit the worse."

I did not deem it necessary to make any reply to this remark, which did

not place my guide's character in a very favorable light, and cut short

his revelations by asking him some questions about the mine whose

buildings were coming gradually into sight as we approached.

FOOTNOTES:

[32] Literally, bottom of a valley.

[33] The name of a species of cedar, whose presence almost always

indicates the vicinity of a hidden spring. In Indian, _ahuehuetl_ means

lord of the waters.

[34] The Veta Madre, wrought by the four mining companies of Valenciana,

Cata, Mellado, and Rayas, was discovered by the French miner Laborde,

and has yielded, between the years 1829 and 1837, ore to the value of

almost six million two hundred and fifty thousand pounds sterling.

[35] The miners are said to be in _partido_ when a share of the proceeds

is given them as wages. In this case the employers furnish them with

tools, gunpowder, and candles.

CHAPTER II.

Description of, and descent into, a Silver Mine.--The Miner's Chapel.

When a mine is first begun, it is always left open to the sky, and the

mineral is extracted by following the vein that contains it; but, as the

mine gets deeper, two obstacles present themselves: the extraction of

the ore becomes more costly, and the workmen are not long in meeting

with hidden springs, the waters of which, unless removed, would drown

the mine and stop the works. To provide against this danger, shafts are

sunk, at the bottom of which a working gallery runs, that follows the

vein of metal. The depth of the shaft depends upon the lode, which

sometimes stretches so far down into the ground that two or three

working galleries, one above the other, are obliged to be constructed.

In the richest mines little paths of communication are added to these

principal arteries, besides other works to assist in its exploration.

The ore and water are raised out of the mines by means of machines

called _Malacates_, placed at the mouth of the shaft. Large bags, some

made of the stringy bark of the aloe, others of ox-hide, are fixed to

the ends of ropes wound round an enormous drum, the former for raising

the ore, the latter for the water, and these are constantly passing up

and down the shaft. The motive power is given by horses, which are kept

constantly at the gallop.

Besides the grand shaft (_tiro general_), the mine of Rayas has two

others of less importance, one of which reaches a depth of nearly eight

hundred feet. The tiro general, remarkable for the diameter of its

shaft, which is thirty-four feet, and for its frightful depth, almost

twelve hundred feet, communicates with three principal galleries, one

above the other, and these shafts and galleries, together with their

accessories, form the most complete series of gigantic workings that are

to be found in the country. The exterior appearance of this mine is,

however, far from giving one an idea of the constant activity which

prevails within it. Some paltry wooden sheds, covered with tiles, which

protect the malacates, or shelter the workmen; a few buildings of mean

appearance, the offices of the administrators or overseers, and two or

three whitewashed houses, huddled together without any regard to order

on the neighboring mounds, scarcely convey to the visitor any notion of

the wonders he is going to behold.

It was about midday when I arrived with my companion at the opening by

which we were to be admitted into the mine. We dismounted, confided our

horses to the care of one of the miners, and entered. Desiderio carried

in his hand a huge torch. I stood for a short time at the mouth of this

vast laboratory, thinking on the millions of money it had been the means

of putting into circulation. My guide, his cloak thickly covered with

gold lace, that appeared, as the light of the torch fell on its velvety

folds, to be seamed with golden links, looked like the lordly genie of

this subterranean kingdom. We descended for a long time a series of

steps, every one of which had the dimensions of a terrace. Amid the

profound darkness, which the torch dispelled but feebly, we made a

series of turnings and windings, changing every minute our temperature

and direction, and sometimes mounting an inclined plane only to descend

it. In about a quarter of an hour I perceived in the distance some

wandering lights, then a few gigantic shadows appeared on the moist

walls of the vault. I still kept on, and soon found myself in a square

which the piety of the miners had converted into a chapel. In the centre

rose a low altar, ornamented with wax tapers, which burned before an

image of a saint. A man, who seemed to be praying fervently, was

kneeling upon the steps of the altar. He was the first human being I had

seen since entering the mine.

My guide touched my arm.

"Take a good look at this man," he said, in a low tone. The suppliant

miner was entirely naked. Without the light of the flambeau, which

allowed you to see his gray hair and angular features, you would not

have thought he was an old man, so much youth and vigor seemed still to

possess his nervous members.

"Why?" I inquired of Desiderio.

"This man," said he, "is no stranger to the history of the hand upon the

wall that you gazed at with so much curiosity this morning; and, though

that history is as well known to me as to him, perhaps from his lips it

would have an additional interest, as his son was concerned in it."

I fancied that I had at last found an opportunity for shaking off

Desiderio by insinuating that the narrator would probably go more into

detail if he were telling the story to me alone. This time he took the

hint.

"I am neither irritable nor quarrelsome," cried he; "but your lordship

seems very desirous to get rid of his devoted servant."

"I must protest against the meaning you put upon my words."

Fuentes seemed to be calming down.

"Come," said he, with an air of raillery, "I will renounce my desire of

accompanying you through these subterranean abodes, seeing you wish it.

Besides, I must find out the meaning of the comedy played this morning

by Planillas upon the carcass of the mule. You must visit the mine

without me; and I shall tell you what I have learned about this fellow

after you have come up the grand shaft, for, to crown your achievement,

you must be drawn up by means of the malacate."

I was in such a hurry to be quit of this personage that I promised all

he asked, without remarking the ironical smile with which he welcomed my

reply. At this moment the miner had finished his prayer. Fuentes

exchanged a few words with him in a low tone, and walked rapidly away. I

felt relieved.

"Señor Cavalier," said the new-comer to me, "my comrade Fuentes has made

me acquainted with your desire to know the story of my son from my own

lips--about him who was the pride of the corporation of miners. This

desire does me honor; but at present I can not accede to your wish. I am

on my way to fire a charge in the mine. If I am still in being after

that operation, I shall be with you in two hours, and place myself

entirely at your disposal, for I love the brave, to whatever nation they

may belong."

"And who told you I was brave?" I asked, with an air of astonishment.

"_Caramba!_ a man who visits a mine for the first time, and who, as

Fuentes tells me, has a strong desire to make the perilous ascent by

means of the _tiro_! Well, we shall go up together, and on our journey

I shall tell you the story. I shall meet you, then, in two hours at the

bottom of the last gallery, close upon the grand shaft."

I could scarcely have avoided this pompous eulogium; but I could not

help feeling a certain sinking of heart at the very thought of being

forced, as it were, against my will, to make this difficult and

dangerous ascent. I was again indebted to Fuentes for this new

annoyance. However, I promised to meet the old miner at the time

appointed, and, being alone, I profited by my independence so far as to

examine at my leisure the new world into which I found myself

transported. I had the torch which Desiderio had left with me, and

walked about at my pleasure. Above me, fancifully hollowed out in the

living rock, and studded with brilliant spangles, stretched vaults of

unequal grandeur, some sustained by wooden props, others letting their

sharp points descend, like the pendant of a Gothic lamp, till they

threatened to fall and bruise one to pieces. A few tiny streamlets,

which flowed along the bottom of the rough pilasters, gleamed brightly

as the light of the torch fell upon them. At a distance, large drops of

water escaped from the fissures in the rocks, and fell on the stony soil

with the dull, regular beat of a pendulum. Before me several dark

squares opened; the noise of footsteps reverberated in the sombre caves,

and died away in the distance. Various lights from time to time

struggled through the deep gloom; these were the miners passing and

repassing, with a rush-light stuck behind their ear, looking like the

gnomes of the magicians, who, with a light on their forehead, watch over

the hidden treasures of their masters.

I advanced with all caution; for, left without a guide in this

labyrinth, I did not know which way to go. I soon heard in the distance

the dull sound of the pickaxes with which they were hewing away the

rock, mingled with mysterious noises which seemed to come from a lower

gallery. These sounds, though very indistinct, served to guide me. Since

entering the mine, I had seen only those passages in which the ore had

been all extracted. I was now impatient to behold a spot in which the

miners were actually at work. Such a locality is called the

_labor_--that is to say, the place where they are following the vein of

silver. A dusky, obscure glimmer indicated that the proximity of the

place was not far off; and I soon reached the orifice of a shaft not

very deep, from which a strong light proceeded. I descended it by means

of a wooden ladder placed zigzag. I hesitated at first to trust myself

to this rickety ladder; but, emboldened by the shallowness of the shaft,

I ventured to descend, and arrived safely at the bottom. A passage about

five feet wide, and six hundred in length, conducted me along this

underground hive, the air in which was as hot and stifling as if it had

left the mouth of a crater. Lost in the midst of this crowd of workmen,

who were too busy to notice my presence, I could examine at my ease the

fantastic tableau which there met my eyes. A number of candles, stuck to

the walls, threw a dull, confused light upon the miners, the greater

portion of whom, up to their waists in water, were attacking the living

rock with vigorous strokes of their _barretas_. Others trudged off

loaded with sacks of ore, the weight of which brought their muscles into

tension, while the lighted rush-light which they carried upon their

heads shone full upon their bronzed bodies, trickling with sweat, and

their long floating hair. The sharp sound of the pickaxes striking the

rock--the splash of the stones in the water--the voices of the

miners--their shrill cries, and wheezy breathings, seemed at times to

shake the very vault. The reddish glare of the candles reflected in the

water--the dust--the vapor, which filled the place like a mist--the

coppery veins which ran in all directions through the rock, all combined

to increase the singularity of the spectacle.

After spending there a considerable time, I resolved to make my way to a

lower gallery, at the end of which I was to meet the old miner. The

ascent I was to make from that place did not seem so perilous as I at

first imagined, and I should, besides, be saved going over the same

ground. I requested one of the miners to conduct me to this place, as I

feared to lose my way in the maze, the paths crossing and recrossing

each other in all directions. I began, also, to feel the necessity of

breathing a purer air, and followed my new guide with pleasure.

I went down an inclined plane so long that the joints of my legs knocked

together, and arrived at last, worn out and breathless, at the extremity

of the last gallery, which formed a right angle with the grand shaft,

whose black mouth yawned right at my feet. This shaft was carried down

still lower. The miner had not yet arrived. To a solitary workman, who

seemed to have been forgotten in these vast catacombs, was assigned a

most dangerous and frightful task. Close at hand, another shaft full of

water was in process of being slowly emptied by means of an enormous bag

of ox-hide attached to the cable of the malacate. When full, it was

raised by means of the invisible machine twelve hundred feet above;

but, being violently drawn in an oblique direction toward the axis of

the grand shaft, the bag, distended with water, was in danger of being

cut against the sharp rocks, had not the workman deadened the impulse it

had received from the first motion of the malacate. On a narrow space

between the two pits, in the midst of almost utter darkness, the peon

held on to a double rope passed round the cable, whose two extremities

he held in his hands; then, as he was pulled with a fearful rapidity to

the mouth of the gulf, he let go all at once one of the ends of the

rope, and the bag struck the opposite side of the rock very gently; but,

had he made one false step, or let go the rope a second too late, he

would have been dashed down an almost unfathomable abyss. I regarded the

unhappy wretch who, every quarter of an hour during the whole day,

hazarded his life for scanty wages with a feeling of pity and

commiseration.

The bag had already ascended and descended four times; that is to say,

an hour had elapsed, and not a single person had yet appeared. I must

confess that, at the sight of the dark, gloomy shaft which I had to

ascend, I felt my spirits sink somewhat; and as the old miner did not

make his appearance, I pardoned him in my heart with a good grace, when,

through the thick darkness, the cable of the malacate came in sight. A

feeble glimmer lighted up the damp walls, and a voice, which was not

unknown to me, called out,

"Halloo! friend, is there not a gentleman waiting here to go up by the

tiro?"

I had scarcely answered that I was ready than a packet fell at my feet.

I untied mechanically the cord which encircled it. The parcel contained

a vest, trowsers of thick wool, a leathern baton, and a kind of plaited

rope made of the bark of the aloe. I asked in some terror if the vest

and trowsers were quite sufficient to deaden a fall of twelve hundred

feet. As for the leathern baton and the plaited strap, I guessed their

use at once. The workmen near me described the use of each of these

articles. The woolen clothing was to keep me from being wet by the

water, which shot forth in fine rain at certain places in the shaft. I

was to attach myself to the cable by means of the plaited strap, and the

baton was to prevent me from being dashed to pieces on the rock by the

oscillations of the rope.

"Make haste!" cried my invisible guide; "we have no time to lose."

I put on the clothes with all speed, drew the cable toward me, and

grasped it firmly with my hands, crossing my legs likewise over it. The

peon passed the strap twice or thrice round my body and under my thighs,

so as to form a kind of seat, tied the two ends firmly to the cable, and

placed the baton in my hands. He had scarcely finished ere I felt myself

lifted from the ground by an invisible power. I spun round three or four

times, and, when I recovered from my astonishment, found myself already

swinging over the gulf. A little above my head I perceived the legs of

my guide, who was grasping the cable tightly. Although he carried a

torch, I could discover but imperfectly his copper body, half naked,

which, at certain moments, gleamed like Florentine bronze. However, I

could make out his words quite well.

"Am I well enough tied to the cable, do you think?" I asked, seeing that

not a single knot or roughness in the rope could prevent the strap that

bound me from slipping to the bottom.

"Well, I suppose you are, unless the peon has done his business ill,"

replied the miner, in a calm tone; "but, should that not be the case,

you can grasp the rope with your hands with all your might."

I clutched the cable convulsively. Unfortunately, I could hardly compass

it with my two hands.

"How long shall we be in going up?"

"Twelve minutes commonly, but in this instance half an hour--a favor

which I have obtained solely on your account, to allow you more time to

observe the wonders of the mine."

"And does any accident ever happen in the ascent?"

"Pardon me. An Englishman, who happened to be ill bound to the rope,

fell almost from the top to the very bottom, and so suddenly and quietly

that a fellow-workman of mine, who was his guide, had not remarked his

disappearance till he was at the top of the shaft."

I thought it best to ask no more questions. When I considered that five

minutes had elapsed since the first movement of the malacate, I ventured

to look above and below me. The shaft seemed to be divided into three

distinct zones. At my feet a thick darkness dimmed the horror of that

gulf which no eye could fathom; white tepid vapors rose slowly from the

dark bottom and mounted toward us. Around me, the guide's torch lighted

up with a smoky glimmer the green walls of rock, cut and torn in all

directions by the pickaxe and the wedge. In the upper region a column of

thick mist pressed round the circle of light produced by our torch, and

shut us out completely from the light of day. At this moment the

machine stopped to give the horses breath. I clutched the cable anew as

if it were slipping from me, and shut my eyes to avoid looking downward.

"This halt is especially for you," said my guide. "I had forgotten that

I was to tell you a story, and this affords me time."

Without waiting for my reply, the miner commenced a recital whose

incidents and minute details could not, in a dangerous ascent like this,

fail to be deeply engraven on my memory. The attention I gave to the

narrator kept my mind from dwelling upon the dangerous position in which

I was at the moment, and this cessation of thought I would have welcomed

at almost any price.

CHAPTER III.

Story of the Passer of the Rio Atotonilco, Osorio.--Felipe.--The young

Miner.--A Duel in the Mine.

"You are perhaps aware," said the miner, "that in passing from San

Miguel el Grande[36] to Dolores, the traveler is obliged to cross the

Rio Atotonilco. In the rainy season the passage of this river can not be

made by any but those who know the principal fords. The stream is about

sixty yards wide at the place where the road to San Miguel meets it. The

impetuosity of its waters, and the heavy, imposing noise of its yellow

waves, produce an involuntary terror in any one who requires to cross

it at this place. On the opposite bank, a few cabins, formed of

branches, shelter a few wretched families, who make a scanty living by

piloting the passengers across by the fords, with which they are

acquainted. Often, when the traveler on the other side sees the poor

half-clad people wandering upon the bank, and throwing themselves into

the water, he hesitates, turns his bridle, and gallops off. A sad event

proved that too little confidence can not be placed in men who will not

be contented with the scanty living they pick up at this dangerous

employment. Some years ago, an old miner of Zacatecas, who had rendered

himself obnoxious to justice, and had quitted that province, came and

established himself among the passers of the Rio Atotonilco. This man,

whose strength and prowess rendered him formidable, was marked as having

a singularly unlucky hand. Once or twice, the travelers whom he had

engaged to convey across had been ingulfed by the waters of the river.

One stormy night, believing himself alone, and seeing a traveler on the

opposite bank, the passer crossed the ford to tender his services. He

was observed by one of his comrades who had followed him, but who had

hid himself among a thick clump of osiers on the brink of the river for

the purpose of watching all that passed. The passer, having crossed the

river, soon reappeared, followed by the cavalier, whose horse he led by

the bridle. When half way across he mounted behind, and, a few seconds

after, the splash of some one falling into the water was heard. One only

of the horsemen remained in the saddle. This man reached the opposite

bank at a considerable distance from the hamlet, and was soon lost in

the darkness. The witness to the crime was a young man whom the passer

had, a few days before, brutally ill used, and he was now seeking an

opportunity for revenge. Thinking he had found it, he threw himself into

the water, swam after the sinking body, and soon succeeded in dragging

the unhappy man to the other bank, whom, by his tonsure and dress, he

guessed to be a priest. Overcome with fatigue, the youth fainted. When

he recovered his senses it was broad daylight, and the body of the

priest was gone--carried off, doubtless, by some charitably-disposed

persons who had been passing. That circumstance did not check the young

man's eagerness to make his deposition before the alcalde of the nearest

village; but, though a pursuit was set on foot, it was unsuccessful."

My guide checked himself at this moment. As if we had arrived in the

region of clouds, a mist enveloped us, which gradually converted itself

into a fine and almost impalpable, but soaking rain. The torch

sputtered, and gave forth a very feeble glimmer. The water ran off the

bronzed body of the miner in streams. The machine again stopped, and I

felt a new sinking of heart, similar to the feeling one has on the deck

of a laboring ship, when he thinks that every moment he is going to the

bottom. A short and terrible apprehension increased the fear of

immediate danger which had come over me. I fancied that the strap which

bound me to the cable had slipped, and I was sliding downward. I gave a

convulsive shudder.

"Has the strap got loose?" cried the miner; then, looking downward, and

seeing me always at the same distance from him, he continued, with

imperturbable calmness: "A short time after the disappearance of the

passer, about whom the strangest stories were noised abroad, a new

miner came to work at Rayas, which is about a dozen leagues from Rio

Atotonilco. He said he had served his apprenticeship in the neighboring

state of Cinaloa, and by his good-humor and liberality (for he appeared

to have other resources besides his daily pay) soon gained the

friendship of all his fellow-workmen. My son Felipe was the one he

attached himself to more than any of the others. There was, however,

between him and Osorio (that was the new miner's name) a complete

dissimilarity in age and disposition. Felipe was a rough, unpolished

workman, jealous of the reputation he had acquired, and haughty as a

miner ought to be; for we have no need of ancient privileges to

distinguish us from the vulgar, our profession ennobling the right that

is granted us. Osorio, on the other hand, who was twice the age of

Felipe, seemed to look upon labor as a burden, and passed his time in

thrumming a guitar and preaching insubordination to the _mandones_

(overseers). However, their friendship might have been of a lasting

nature had they not both fallen in love with the same woman. This was

the first time that they ever had a sentiment in common, in spite of

their intimacy, and this was what produced the first quarrel. They

continued, however, in spite of these differences, to pay their

attentions to the fair damsel; for, though she preferred Felipe, she

could not give up Osorio's music and merry good-humor. The frequent

absence of the latter gave a great advantage to Felipe. During one of

Osorio's times of absence, a report spread abroad that the Cathedral of

Guanajuato had been burglariously entered, and that a monstrance of

massy gold, adorned with precious stones, had disappeared from the place

in which it was usually put. This sacrilegious theft struck the

clergymen of the town with horror; but all their exertions to discover

the daring robber were in vain. In the absence of Osorio, Felipe had

succeeded in gaining the first place in the affections of the maiden to

whom both had been paying their addresses. Her parents resolved to marry

her to him, as it would tend to cut short the incessant quarrels that

were ever taking place between them. The wedding was to take place in a

short time, and all the friends of both families assembled at the young

woman's house to celebrate their betrothal. Brandy and _pulque_ flowed

profusely, and music enlivened the feast, when an unexpected occurrence

brought every thing to a stand-still. A man stood in the midst of the

guests; that man was Osorio. Every one knew his violent disposition, and

his sudden appearance caused all to tremble. Felipe alone remained cool,

and waited, knife in hand, the attack of his rival; but he, without

putting his hand to his belt, advanced into the circle, and apologized

for having come without an invitation; then, taking a guitar from one of

the musicians, he seated himself on a barrel of _pulque_, and began to

improvise a bolero. This unexpected event caused a general surprise, and

the merriment was redoubled. The party, interrupted for a moment, became

more boisterous, and it broke up to assemble again on the eighth day

afterward."

Here the narrator paused. We were gradually approaching the mouth of the

tiro, as I could discover by the light shining through the fog which

still enveloped us; besides, the higher we got, the gulf below appeared

more frightful.

"Do you know what distance we are from the bottom of the mine?" cried

the guide. "Five and a half times the height of the towers of the

Cathedral of Mexico."

To confirm this assertion, the miner drew from his belt a bundle of tow

steeped in pitch, which he lighted at his torch. My strained eye could

scarcely follow it as it slowly descended the pit like a globe of fire,

till it gradually became small as one of those pale stars whose light

scarcely reaches our earth. The voice of the miner, who again began his

recital, turned my mind away from this reflection.

"From that night on which Osorio showed himself at the betrothal, Felipe

was annoyed in a thousand ways by some unknown hand. On the very next

day a blast was fired close to him, and covered him with fragments of

rock; another time, when he was at a considerable height in one of the

galleries, the rope to which he was suspended broke suddenly. These

attempts being unsuccessful, vague assertions began to be bruited

abroad, accusing poor Felipe as the thief who had stolen the monstrance.

The brave young man was unwilling to recognize in Osorio the author of

these foul calumnies. His eyes could hardly have been opened to the

evidence that he was his calumniator, had not a young miner, who

constantly watched Osorio, and who had lately entered the mine, apprised

Felipe of the snares that were laid for him. Felipe resolved to seek his

revenge. On the evening of the day on which the marriage was to take

place (for all this had passed in less than a week), Osorio and Felipe

met in the subterranean galleries of the mine. Felipe reproached Osorio

with his treachery; Osorio replied by recounting the injuries he had

suffered; the two then drew their knives. They were alone and almost

naked; their _frazadas_ were their only shields. Osorio was the

stronger, Felipe the more agile; the issue of the combat was therefore

uncertain. All at once the young miner of whom I have spoken threw

himself between the two combatants. 'Allow me,' said he, to Felipe, 'to

punish this sacrilegious robber; my claim is anterior to yours.' Osorio

gnashed his teeth and threw himself on the young miner, who stood grimly

on his defense. The two then began to fight by the light of Felipe's

torch, who had now become a spectator instead of an actor. With their

frazadas wound round their left arms to hide their lunges, they

commenced the combat. Perhaps the struggle would have been a

long-protracted one had not the young miner adopted the following

stratagem: he took such a position as allowed the covering on his arm to

sweep the ground; then, behind the veil which masked his movements, he

slipped his knife into his other hand, and gave his adversary a mortal

wound. Osorio fell. He was drawn up by the grand shaft in a

_costal_.[37] By chance a _padre_ happened to be passing the mine at

that moment. They besought him to come and confess the wounded man; but

scarcely had the dying man and the padre looked at one another than a

cry of horror broke from the priest. The holy father had recognized in

the wounded man the passer of the Rio Atotonilco. Osorio discovered in

the priest the man he thought he had drowned, but who had escaped as if

by a miracle from almost certain death. After that, by the

investigations of justice, many mysteries were cleared up. The passer of

the Rio Atotonilco, the sacrilegious robber, the miner of Zacatecas, and

also of Rayas, were one and the same person. The garrote did justice to

the crimes of this wretch, and it was his hand you saw nailed to the

wall in the grand square of Guanajuato. I must now tell you what became

of Felipe. The providential recognition of the victim and his assassin

was soon noised abroad, and a few hours afterward a band of alguazils

appeared to arrest the miner who had stabbed Osorio. Unluckily, on that

day Felipe had quitted his work sooner than ordinary. I do not know by

what fatal mistake he had been pointed out as the murderer of Osorio;

perhaps it was an additional token of good-heartedness on that caitiff's

part--at any rate, the alguazils came to seize him. The victorious

combatant had escaped, and I need not tell you that this mortal enemy of

Osorio's was no other than the young man whom he had ill used, and who

was a witness of the crime he had committed on the Rio Atotonilco. Had

Felipe remained under ground, the alguazils would not have ventured into

the inner workings of the mine, for the miners would not have suffered

any injury to be inflicted on a comrade in their _fueros_. The alguazils

perceived the young man in one of the courts of the mine buildings, and

immediately set off in pursuit. Felipe saw he was lost; but he resolved

to die a miner's death, and not suffer himself to be dishonored by the

touch of the bailiffs. Having arrived at the brink of this very shaft

quite out of breath, 'I will not be insulted as if I were a vile

lépero,' he cried; 'a miner is more than man; he is the instrument whom

God delights to employ!' Then, with pale face and gleaming eyes, he

leaped over the balustrade surrounding the shaft, and disappeared in the

black gulf which now yawns beneath your feet."

The miner paused, and the light of his torch grew dim. High above our

heads, at the mouth of the shaft, appeared the first gleam of daylight,

like the pale blushes of early morning. The impression which the miner's

story had made upon me was so great that I could not help trembling in

every limb.

"It was very nearly ten years ago," said the miner, in a hollow voice,

"since Felipe threw himself down this abyss, and I have never ascended

the shaft since, and that has been often, without having a strong desire

to cut the cable."

And the madman brandished a large knife, as if he were preparing to

carry it really into effect. I would have called aloud for assistance,

but, as in a frightful dream, my tongue refused to perform its office.

My hands even refused to grasp the rope. Besides, what good would it do

me? the cable was going to be cut right above my head. I threw a

mournful look at the pale light which was tinging the green walls of the

shaft, and listened to the indefinite noises which told me we were

slowly approaching the haunts of men--the dusky daylight appeared so

beautiful--the confused noises above seemed such delightful harmony. At

this moment a peal of subterranean thunder burst up under my feet, and

the mine roared through its many mouths like a growling volcano. The

compressed air being inclosed in this enormous siphon, a powerful blast,

equal to that of a strong whirlwind, shook the cable like a silk thread,

and we received several severe bruises against the rocks. The torch was

blown out; but, luckily, the terrible knife slipped from the miner's

hands, and went whirring down the shaft.

"_Cascaras!_ a new knife gone, worth two piastres," cried a voice, which

I immediately recognized as that of Fuentes. I had scarcely pronounced

his name ere a great shout of laughter burst forth right above me. It

was Fuentes indeed, who had come down to serve me as a guide, and play

the part of the old miner. The extreme eagerness I had shown to get rid

of him prompted him to this kind of revenge.

"Do you know, Señor Cavalier," he remarked, "that you are not easily

frightened? In a situation such as would have tried the nerves of the

bravest man, you did not even condescend to shout for help."

"Certainly not," I replied, with an impudence which surpassed his own;

"you see you have only made yourself ridiculous by trying to frighten

me."

The malacate now stopped; we had finished our ascent. Desiderio was

first unloosed, and I waited my turn in feverish anxiety. When the strap

which bound me to the cable had been untied, I could scarcely keep

myself from fainting outright. I soon recovered my senses, however. I

pressed the earth with a kind of rapture. Never had Nature seemed so

beautiful, so resplendent, as on that day.

In the interval that passed while our horses were getting ready,

Fuentes, who had resumed his gaudy dress, stood silently by, and I took

care not to be the first to speak. My foot was already in the stirrup

when an old man came up to me. I could scarcely recognize, in the person

whose dress vied in richness with that of Fuentes, the old miner whom I

had seen a few hours before kneeling at the altar.

"You will pardon me for having broken my word," said he to me; "but my

work detained me longer than I expected. You must have heard the

explosion in the mine: it took place not half an hour ago."

"True," I replied. "I have been also told a touching and very mournful

story."

"My boy behaved nobly," replied the old man, raising his head proudly;

"and you can tell in your own country that the miners are a race by

themselves, and that they know how to prefer death to dishonor."

I have seen the gold-seekers in the state of Sonora, and could not help

admiring the kind of grandeur which characterizes their physiognomy, for

every thing in the desert takes the largest proportions; but in the

towns the type of the miner was far from exercising upon me a like

fascination. The whimsical and capricious character of Fuentes, and the

immorality of Planillas, had brought about this disenchantment. The

story I had heard, while it helped to make up my mind partly about the

class, proved that the miner had not quite degenerated: the vices of

Planillas, and the oddities of Fuentes, like the dark shades in a

picture, disappeared before the austere figure of that old stoic who had

bidden me farewell with such haughty expressions, and I forgot Osorio

only when I called Felipe to remembrance.

FOOTNOTES:

[36] A small town near Guanajuato, celebrated for its manufactures of

zarapes, which almost rival those of Saltillo. Dolores is a market-town,

still more celebrated for having been the cradle of Mexican

independence.

[37] A kind of basket formed from the filaments of the aloe.

CHAPTER IV.

Rencounter with Don Tomas Verduzco.

I fancied a favorable moment had at last arrived for taking leave of

Fuentes, for whom I entertained no good feeling, though a regard for

myself caused me to conceal it.

"What!" said he, "are you going to town? I am going there also; and you

will find it more cheerful to have a companion by the way."

We set out. Daylight was fast ebbing away, and it was doubtful if we

should reach Guanajuato before nightfall. Desiderio kept up a continual

flow of talk about the sayings and doings of the miners, and what an

excellent profession he belonged to; but I took no interest in his

conversation, and inwardly imprecated the bore whom I could not shake

off. All at once he stopped, and struck his forehead with the palm of

his hand.

"_Voto al demonio!_" cried he. "I have forgotten the unhappy devil for

these two hours, and he may have bled to death by this time."

"Whom do you refer to?"

"Planillas, to be sure."

Almost at the same moment Fuentes went off at a gallop. I had now got a

capital opportunity of ridding myself of him; but my curiosity

prevailed, and I hastened after him. When we had arrived at a place not

far from where we had that morning met Planillas plunged in grief,

sitting on the carcass of the mule, Desiderio paused, and made a gesture

of surprise.

"I don't see any body," I said.

"No more do I, and that's what astonishes me. True, he must have been

tired waiting. It is very shabby of him; and another time I won't

believe him. However, it is more than probable that some charitable

person has removed him, for he had excellent reasons for remaining there

till the sounding of the last trump."

"What has happened to him?"

"Look!" said Fuentes, pointing to the earth dyed in blood, and to the

mule which the vultures were then preying upon. The miner added that, in

the morning after leaving me, he had returned to ask some questions of

Planillas, whose crooked morality made him an object of suspicion. Not

finding either him or the mule at the place he had left them, he had

followed their traces, and having arrived at the spot where we now were,

found poor Florencio lying on the ground almost insensible, and bleeding

profusely. He had then learned the truth from the lips of the wounded

man. The mule, which Florencio and his companion were dragging to a

solitary place, had died, it is true, in the hacienda de platas; but

Florencio had never seen the animal till that day, and the cause of his

tender solicitude was, that its flanks contained a number of silver

ingots which Planillas had stolen and hidden there, so that the clerk of

the mines might not discover them. The stratagem had been successful;

but when they came to divide the spoil, after having drawn it to a still

more solitary spot, a quarrel arose, and the result was, that Planillas

got nothing but a couple of stabs from the ready knife of his neighbor,

which had placed his life in great danger.

"You can guess the rest," continued Fuentes. "I could not help being

sorry for the fellow, and went away, promising to send him assistance. I

can't tell how it is, but I completely forgot the poor devil."

Fuentes was right in not boasting of his second impulse. As for this

reckless indifference to human life, I had seen too many similar

instances in Mexico to be at all astonished at it. I rode sadly back to

Guanajuato, still in the company of Fuentes, who did not fail to stop me

at the little pent-house in which the hand of the sacrilegious robber

was exposed. This memorial of a barbarous justice reminded me that I had

observed some imperfections in the miner's story.

"If I understood you aright," I said, "of the three persons, actors and

witness, who were present at the duel between Osorio and the young

miner, two are dead, and the third escaped. How comes it, then, that you

can speak so positively about actions of which no person could have

informed you?"

"Very simply," replied Fuentes. "I had forgotten to tell you that it was

I who killed Osorio; it was I who witnessed the deed on the Rio

Atotonilco. Don't think, however, that I am an utterly heartless bravo

like that Don Tomas, surnamed _Verdugo_.[38] I have given, it is true,

more than one stroke in my time; but in Mexico one must see a little

justice done to one's self. Were you not yourself on the very point of

killing a man this morning? And don't you think that a similar case

might perchance happen to me?"

I shuddered at this rude speech, which reminded me of the danger I ran

by remaining any longer in Guanajuato. The man whose life I had

threatened that day was, I had no doubt, the murderer of Don Jaime. It

may be easily imagined that I felt some degree of satisfaction in

finding myself safe at the door of my hotel.

"Ah! you live here?" said Fuentes, grasping my hand; "I am very glad I

know; I shall call on you to-morrow, and we shall have a pleasant day

together."

"Well, to-morrow," I said. We parted, and I entered the inn.

My valet Cecilio waited on me with as much impatience as curiosity in

his countenance. He had been long obliged to make himself acquainted

with all the particulars of my life, but seldom had he been necessitated

to follow me into such a maze of disagreeable incidents. I interrupted

his questions by ordering him to have our horses saddled at midnight,

as I wished to avoid both Fuentes and the treacherous designs of Don

Tomas.

"After this," said I, "we shall travel only at night; it is better for

the health."

By traveling at night and sleeping during the day, I reasonably hoped to

baffle all pursuit. However, grown bolder by success, I returned to my

ordinary habits; and when I came to the venta of Arroyo Zarco, it was

midday before I arrived, after having passed the night at San Juan del

Bio, and journeying almost the whole day. In this last stage of my

excursion many sorrowful remembrances crowded into my mind. The plain,

the venta, alike reminded me of Don Jaime. It was while musing sadly on

this young man, so prematurely cut off, that I found myself, almost

without knowing it, at the very spot where he had lighted his fire. Of

so many dreams of love and fortune, what was left behind? A corpse three

hundred miles away, a few burned sticks, and some ashes which the winds

of the plain were scattering about! The supper-hour approaching, I went

to pass away an idle hour, if not at the common table, at least in a

room where all the travelers, and they were numerous on that day, were

generally accustomed to take their meals. The company consisted, as it

had done before, of a curious mixture of all classes of Mexican society,

but I had no end in view as I had then, and accordingly seated myself in

a corner after looking around me with a careless eye. I thought for some

time on the cruel isolation to which foreigners are subjected in those

countries inhabited by people of Spanish extraction, when the hostess

pronounced, almost at my ear, the name of a person that made me start.

"Señor Don Tomas," cried the hostess, "here is a foreigner who was

inquiring after you a fortnight ago, and whom I was telling you about

just now."

I jumped up. In the man whom the hostess had addressed, and which a

secret feeling in my own mind convinced me was the person, I recognized

the sinister companion of Planillas. A cold shudder ran through my whole

frame. I looked at the by-standers, but I could see on their

countenances only that expression of apathetic indifference which makes

a comedy or a tragedy a matter of mere moonshine to them. Almost

immediately, and before I was able to prevent it, I was strained between

two strong muscular arms. I disengaged myself without any ceremony, but

he affected not to perceive the repugnance with which he had inspired

me.

"Ah!" cried he, with an impudence seldom to be met with, "how happy am I

at meeting here a cavalier who has won my entire regard! What! were you

inquiring after me? In what can I serve you?"

"It was all a misconception on my part, I can assure you; but, if you

have not forgotten your visit to the _Secunda Monterilla_,[39] you may

perhaps recall to your memory your object in coming there."

"Do _you_ live there? You can then boast that you have come more than

two leagues in search of me."

"I have gone two hundred and forty to meet you," I answered, "and find

you here at last."

The bravo replied by the same constrained smile I had seen his face wear

the first time I met him. "I was seeking for a foreigner with whom I had

been engaged to do a little business, and an error that I now recognize

alone conducted me to you; but I know you now, Señor Cavalier, and will

not commit the same blunder a second time. I only need to see a person

once to remember him ever after. I never forget faces, even at the end

of twenty years."

These last words were accented in such a way as to leave me in no doubt

of the ruffian's meaning. I said not a word, but the bravo seemed to

have repented of having shown any resentment. Turning to the hostess,

and in a tone of rough gayety,

"Halloo, _Patrona_!" cried he; "you have doubtless supplied this

cavalier, whom I hold in particular esteem, with the best fare your

house affords?"

"I have supped," I said, interrupting him, "and I must only express my

perfect satisfaction with our hostess's arrangements; besides, I am not

hungry."

"Well, we shall drink to our unexpected meeting. Patrona, bring us a

bottle of Catalonian brandy."

I was quite at a loss how to decline this forced invitation that

prudence was urging me to accept, when Captain Don Blas P----, or rather

lieutenant, for he held the former title only by courtesy, rose from the

table, and advanced to welcome me.

"You are one of us, captain, I hope?" said the bravo.

The captain accepted his offer; but, emboldened by his presence, I

formally refused.

"I am much jaded and tired," I said, "and would rather go to my room.

Captain Don Blas, if your road lies the same way as mine, I should be

happy to profit by your company, and to-morrow at break of day we might

pursue our journey to Mexico together."

Don Blas excused himself at not being able to agree to my proposal by

stating that certain very important business would detain him all next

day in the neighborhood. He then sat down opposite Don Tomas, before

whom the hostess had already placed the bottle of Catalonian brandy.

"Good-night, then, señores," I exclaimed. "I hope your slumbers will be

as refreshing as mine."

I settled my bill, and, disguising my precipitate retreat under an air

of haughty defiance, quitted the room with measured steps, the bravo all

the while regarding my motions with indirect glances. I reached my room,

fearing more the oily silkiness of Don Tomas than his anger. I found

Cecilio sleeping on our saddles.

"Listen!" I said, awakening him. "Saddle our horses immediately without

any noise; then bring them round to the back of the venta, and wait for

me there. In a quarter of an hour I shall be with you."

That time had hardly elapsed when I quitted the hostelry without being

observed. My flight at this time formed a striking contrast to that

which I had shared so cheerfully with Don Jaime. I need not say that we

covered the distance between Arroyo Zarco and Mexico still more rapidly

than on our departure: the parts only were changed. The man before whom

I was flying was that very person I had been pursuing so long. Thank

heaven, the issue of this adventure was not tragical, as I feared at one

time it would have become.

FOOTNOTES:

[38] Lit., poniard.

[39] The street in Mexico where I lived.

Captain Don Blas and the Silver Convoy.

CHAPTER I.

Threatened Insurrection in Mexico.--Stealthy Movements of

Troops.--General Don Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna.

The day was approaching on which I was to leave Mexico for Vera Cruz, to

embark for Europe. For several years before this a Yankee company had

established a line of diligences which ran between several of the

largest towns; wagons, also, for the conveyance of heavy goods, competed

with the picturesque caravans of the _arrieros_ on all the principal

roads. Ought I to give up my habit of solitary traveling for no other

reason than the quickness of transit between Mexico and Vera Cruz? I

must then renounce the hospitality of the venta, so pleasant after a

long ride--the siesta under the shade of a tree--the friendly connection

of horse and rider, and all the enlivening contingencies of solitary

travel. I must confess that I could not look upon this innovation, due

to the foreigner who had brought Vera Cruz within four days' journey of

Mexico, without some degree of abhorrence. I felt that, under the

influence of more rapid communication, the ancient appearance of Mexico

was beginning to alter. I groaned and chafed like an antiquarian who

sees rude hands defacing some rare and ancient medal. The establishment

of this new kind of conveyance in Mexico had been attended with

annoyances of a most dangerous character. Well-organized bands of

robbers turned the innovation to account, and not a diligence passed

without being pillaged. The remembrances of my ancient relations with

the Mexican _salteadores_, ordinarily so courteous to every traveler

unencumbered with baggage, rendered the prospect of a similar

humiliation very disagreeable. The pillaging part of the business was

not a thing at all to my mind; besides, the idea of passing several days

in a close carriage, drawn by four swift steeds, and bounding over a

Mexican road rutted by heavy rains, and covered with large pieces of

rock, was a mode of traveling not at all in accordance with my habits

and tastes.

A mere accident caused me to decide what course to follow. Several

merchants in Mexico, profiting by one of those political lulls so rare

in the republic, were about to send a rich convoy of silver (_conducta

de platas_) to Vera Cruz. Some muleteers were loading their mules with

sacks of piastres, inclosed in little wooden boxes, in the great court

of one of the houses in the street of Monterilla, where I lived. The

sight of these preparations had drawn a great crowd of spectators around

the gate, myself among the rest. When the mules had received their

precious burden, they all instinctively huddled together in a corner of

the court. A score of _mozos de mulas_ (stable-helpers) kept up a

running fire of oaths while at their work. Under the archway of the

court the _arriero_[40] brought matters to a close by signing the bills

of lading, and invoking the Virgin and all the saints to give him a safe

and successful trip, every now and then stopping to scold the helpers.

In the street, the multitude speculated on the possibility of such a

rich lading surviving the perils of a long and dangerous road, while the

greatest part of the spectators in tatters did not take the least pains

to conceal their real sentiments.

"_Canario!_" said a lépero, covering a breast seamed with scars with a

cloak almost torn to ribbons, "if I had only a beast like the one that

cavalier has between his legs!"

And he eyed a horse, black as jet, which a _ranchero_ was riding. The

animal, tightly reined in by his rider, champed his bit furiously, and

threw the foam to the right and left. I could not help admiring the

beauty of the horse, and remarking at the same time the firm but easy

seat of the cavalier, who seemed to manage his steed only by his own

will, a quality possessed in the highest degree by the gentlemen of

Mexico.

"Well! what would you do if you had, Gregorito?" asked one of his

companions.

"Canario! I would accompany the conducta to a spot on the road I know

well; and though, as you are well aware, I am no braggart, I should

count myself very unlucky if one or two such loads did not fall to my

share."

"One or two loads, Gregorito!" said the other, in a tone of surprise.

"Yes, three loads at most. You know I never had very much ambition, but

the horseman there seems to have even less than I."

The ranchero, in appearance at least, looked on the whole convoy with

disdain, but what was passing through his mind it was impossible to tell

from his face.

Meanwhile a squadron of lancers, designed to serve as an escort, had

great difficulty in keeping the crowd out of the court, among whom

Gregorito was one of the most modest in the expression of his desires.

The fluttering rags of the léperos, and the waving pennons at the points

of their lances, formed a curious contrast. The loading was at length

completed, the last mule left the court, and the detachment formed up to

accompany the convoy. The crowd gradually melted away, and at last only

the ranchero remained, who appeared to be counting the mules with care,

besides eyeing attentively every individual _mozo_. At last the ranchero

began to put his horse in motion. At this moment the lépero Gregorito

approached him, and begged him to allow him to light his cigarette at

his. A long and animated conversation, in a low tone, took place between

the two men, but I paid little heed to an incident which appeared to me

so insignificant. I left the place, and went home.

The sight of the convoy awakened in me a desire which I was not long in

putting into execution. The departure of the convoy, whose escort I

could easily join, would furnish me with the only opportunity I should

ever have, not only of escaping the ennui of a diligence, but also of

satiating my curiosity by exploring, in perfect security and by short

stages, the long route between Mexico and Vera Cruz. The loaded mules

would travel but slowly, and I could easily rejoin them, even though

they were at several leagues distance from Mexico--thanks to the proved

swiftness of my horse--so as to allow me a couple of days even to bid

farewell to my friends. I began in all haste to make the necessary

preparations for departure. My first object was to procure a horse for

my servant. He had been so ill mounted during our long journey while

searching for, and flying from, the bravo, that his horse had broken

down entirely after we re-entered Mexico, and I had ordered him to

replace it by another. As for my own steed, one of those I had brought

with me from the hacienda of Noria, he nobly justified the name of

_Storm_ which I had given him; the strength and vigor which his free

life in the desert had produced rendered him fit to endure the hardest

fatigues.

Cecilio went about the business immediately. I told him that economy was

to be considered in the purchase, but the fellow did not conform too

scrupulously to my instructions. A few hours afterward he came to tell

me that a _picador_, one of his friends, had a horse to dispose of which

seemed to come up to my standard. In a few minutes, a sorry hack, of a

dun color, with hanging head and tottering legs, that apparently had

escaped from the bull-ring, came slowly into the court. I almost

screamed when the picador, with matchless effrontery, asked ten piastres

for the miserable brute; but, considering that the only time on which we

needed to travel rapidly would be in joining the convoy, and that

afterward short stages would be the rule, I consented to the purchase.

The picador and Cecilio, seeing my impatience, began to expatiate on the

noble qualities that lay hidden beneath the miserable skin of the

wretched beast, and I paid the knave the sum he demanded, knowing well

that my honest valet would partake in the plunder with the picador.

All my preparations being made, I determined to set out next morning;

but a series of unforeseen events retarded my departure for several

days. The time for sending this rich convoy of silver to Vera Cruz

appeared to have been ill chosen. A dull, vague feeling of uneasiness

weighed on all men's minds. The most alarming symptoms of an imminent

political storm were apparent. Even on the very day after the convoy had

left Mexico, it was universally regretted that a lading so valuable had

been exposed to the dangers of a long road at this conjuncture, and

several circumstances, it must be owned, justified these fears.

General Don Anastasio Bustamente--after losing in Europe, in learned

retirement, the remembrance of his country's misfortunes--had returned,

and assumed the presidency of the republic. If disinterestedness and

probity, joined to ardent patriotism, were sufficient to govern a great

state, Bustamente was the man for Mexico. Like almost all the generals

who have attained to power in Mexico, it was in the war of independence

that he showed what he was capable of performing. A devoted friend and

partisan of the Emperor Iturbide, he had taxed Santa Anna with the

blackest ingratitude in commencing his military career by revolting

against the one who had raised him from obscurity. This was the

commencement of that personal enmity which still subsists between the

two generals. During the time I was at Mexico, Santa Anna could not be

prevailed on to forgive Bustamente for having forestalled him in the

presidency. For three years Bustamente had been subjected to many

trials. Two years had scarcely elapsed since the taking of Vera Cruz by

the French, and already the emptiness of the public treasury had

compelled Congress to impose an additional duty of fifteen per cent.

upon imports. Commerce languished by this measure. The decision of

Congress only augmented its sufferings. A general bad feeling began to

gain ground in the state, which, to all accustomed to the march of

political events in Mexico, seemed likely to be employed to the

disadvantage of the existing government. Events were not long in

confirming the justice of these forebodings.

The reader may not, perhaps, have forgotten a certain lieutenant Don

Blas, whom I had met at the venta of Arroyo Zarco, and had left seated

at table with the bravo, Don Tomas Verduzco. The slight degree of

acquaintanceship which I had with this officer never occurred to my mind

without recalling to memory the mysterious relations which seemed to

exist between him and a man who I had every reason to believe was my

mortal enemy. Since my last meeting with Don Tomas I had been under a

continual apprehension, but too well justified by the known antecedents

of this ruffian.

I had, I believed, taken every precaution against an attack which would,

according to all appearance, be made in the dark. Besides, I had

conformed to the rules of the strictest prudence by restricting myself

only to short walks from my place of abode. The porter of my house was

an old soldier of the wars of independence, a brave and honorable man,

who never showed more vigilance than when he was intoxicated. The result

was, that the house could not have been better guarded. I was, it is

true, the first victim of this excess of precaution on his part, for it

was not without the greatest difficulty that, on one occasion, I

prevailed upon him to unlock the iron chain that held together the two

leaves of the entrance gate.

The Angelus was still sounding from all the churches in Mexico when,

returning from a gallop on the Paseo, I rode through the streets, as I

fancied, for the last time. Night was coming on when I gained my

lodging, and it was not without a longer parley than ordinary with the

old porter that I succeeded in gaining admittance. Leaning against the

wall to steady himself and keep up appearances, the brave man, with a

bayonet in his hand, contented himself by jerking his thumb over his

shoulder in the direction of a soldier, who, seated on one of the stone

benches of the vestibule, rose up eagerly at my approach. A peakless

shako, too small for the head it covered, tottered on the top of a dense

thatch of thick yellow hair. A uniform coat of thick cloth, and a pair

of trowsers as large as the shako was small; shoes, whose upper leather

had long parted company from the sole, not only allowing the toes to be

seen, but also ventilating on the most approved principles the wearer's

feet, and a complexion of a bright copper color, all served to stamp the

man as a lépero who had been torn away, by the exigencies of the

service, from following his profession of sleeping in the sun on the

pavement. However, a sort of picaresque and arrogant bearing about the

fellow showed that he was not insensible to his profession, and to the

splendor of his military dress. The soldier, who was the _asistente_ of

Don Blas, had been sent by him with a letter to me. I recognized, in

fact, his handwriting. The note ran thus:

"MY DEAR FRIEND,--I have just read with much emotion, in a French

novel that you lately lent me, a story of two friends, who, when in

need, aided one another with their purse and their sword. As I

require some money at present, I should be obliged by your sending

with the bearer, in whom I have every confidence, an ounce of gold,

which I shall restore to you on the first opportunity. I can tell

you that this will be a service with which the country will be as

well pleased as your devoted friend and servant,

"Q. S. M. B.,[41]

"BLAS P----.

"P.S.--On reflection, if you will bring the ounce of gold yourself,

it will be better; and, to imitate the devotion of those friends

whose story has made such an impression upon me, I offer you my

sword."

I thought, as the lieutenant did, that the ounce of gold would have a

greater chance of coming into his hands if I carried it myself.

"Where is your officer?" I inquired of the soldier.

"At the Guadaloupe gate."

"It is a pity," I said, "that the oracion has sounded, as we can not now

ride thither."

"If it is the intention of your lordship to accompany me, as my captain

said you might," the messenger replied, "he recommended you to go on

foot."

In spite of the great honor that would accrue to me by rendering this

service to the Mexican nation, I could not hide from myself that I would

have the worst of it in this chivalrous exchange of purse and sword.

However, the desire of knowing from the mouth of Don Blas how much I

ought to fear the resentment of the bravo with whom chance had brought

me acquainted, determined me not to allow this opportunity to escape. I

took time only to throw a cloak over my shoulders, and hide my pistols

under my coat. I then set out, followed by the soldier. Still, I took

care, while passing through the town--which became more and more

solitary as we approached the suburbs--to walk in the middle of the

road, as well to see all who were approaching, as to avoid the angles in

the wall that might shelter ambuscades. I arrived without accident at

the Guadaloupe gate, sometimes smiling at my terrors, sometimes

shuddering at some sudden noise. The night was very dark, and the July

rains were already announced by a thick fog, the moisture of which

rendered the pavement slippery.

"Shall we soon be there?" I asked of the soldier, when we came to the

gate.

"Immediately," he replied.

A drizzling rain succeeded the fog. We soon arrived at a road which ran

between the lakes, without the soldier showing any signs of having

reached the end of his journey. A thick mist, which hovered over the

water, hid the two snowy peaks of the volcanoes which cap the

Cordilleras. At last I perceived at some distance the lighted windows of

a small house, and very soon a confused sound of voices reached my ear.

Arrived at the house, the soldier tapped with his bayonet, and the door

opened. He entered first without any ceremony, and motioned me to follow

him. Under any other circumstances, I should have seen nothing very

extraordinary in this invitation; but my ideas having been running on

ambuscades for the last month, I hesitated about penetrating into such a

cut-throat looking place. A voice that I knew put an end to my

hesitation: it was that of the Lieutenant Don Blas, who was conversing

with his _asistente_ about the result of his mission. All my fears then

vanished, and I entered. At the same time Don Blas sprang to meet me,

and pressed me in his arms with all a Mexican's warmth. After the first

compliments had passed, he led me through a room (crowded with men of

all grades), a kind of vestibule, into a spacious hall, where some

individuals of a higher rank sat round half a dozen tables, drinking and

gambling. They all appeared to be military men, judging at least from

their mustaches, and Don Blas himself bore no other insignia of his rank

than a round jacket, decorated with a sort of epaulet on each shoulder,

denoting only the brevet captain. We sat down at a table by ourselves.

The men looked at me in a way that was not altogether pleasant or

comfortable.

"He is a friend," Don Blas said, hastily; "he won't betray us."

I had the best of reasons for being discreet on such an occasion, and

made no remark upon the words of the lieutenant. We were served with an

infusion of tamarind with a strong dash of brandy in it; I then asked

him, "How comes it that you did not, in person, ask for the favor you

expected from me? You would have saved me a long walk, and a return home

alone in the dark."

"I am going to reply to your question," said the lieutenant, stretching

out his hand for the ounce of gold, and putting it into his pocket. "The

reason why I have given you so much trouble is that I am kept here as a

kind of pledge for the money I owe; as for you, you will return home at

daybreak in the company of your very devoted servant."

"Does that mean that I am to be kept here as a kind of pledge also?"

"Not at all; but certain affairs will happen, two hours hence, which

will prevent you from returning. At present I can tell you nothing

farther."

Such a disclosure as this opened a wide field for conjecture; but I

wished, at the moment, to obtain some information regarding an affair

which touched me more nearly.

"You were good enough," said I to the lieutenant, "to place yourself at

my disposal in exchange for the small favor that I was able to render

you, and doubtless you will be happy to learn that a very important

conjuncture makes it necessary for me to ask the assistance of your

valorous sword."

A cloud came over the hitherto smiling face of Don Blas, and I fancied

that the lieutenant never thought that he was so soon to be taken at his

word. However, he promptly recovered himself, and cried, "Play is an

unfortunate thing! Caramba! my sword is in pledge with the rest of my

accoutrements; but what have you done to need the loan of mine?"

"It is your strong right arm, and not your sword, that I require," I

replied, smiling at the evasive subterfuge of the lieutenant. "The sword

of the Cid would be useless in my hands against an enemy so formidable

as--"

"Speak lower," said Don Blas, interrupting me and twirling his mustache;

"my rash bravery is well known here. All are aware that danger

electrifies me, and it might be feared that I had lent for another

motive the weight of that arm which belongs to my country alone."

The hectoring air of the officer made no impression upon me; but I had

no wish to turn what was intended only for a joke into something more

serious. I desired only to know if the bravo had made me the subject of

conversation after my departure from the room on that night I happened

to be at Arroyo Zarco, and it eased me not a little to hear that he had

asked not a single question about me.

At this moment the gallop of a horse rang on the stone causeway, and

almost at the same moment a young lad, about fifteen years of age,

bounced into the room. By his military cap--a kind of beret, ornamented

with a profusion of gold lace, as well as his uniform--I immediately

discovered that he was a _cadete_ (cadet).

"Every thing goes on swimmingly, gentlemen," cried he; "the colonel is

coming to receive his general's commission. This evening his division

reached Cordova. Valencia is advancing. In three days we shall be

masters of Mexico, and then I shall be _alferez_!"

All in the room sprang to their feet; and I asked the lieutenant, by a

motion of my eye, what I should do.

"Do you still wish to leave?"

It was evident that I was witnessing the first act of some new

revolution which was about to take place, and that I was a spectator of

some of those little scenes which serve as the prelude to some grand

event.

Among the numerous causes which have tended to exhaust the public

exchequer in Mexico, and contributed to isolate the country from

European progress, the most deplorable and the most striking are,

without contradiction, those which prevail in the military executive. In

a country whose geographical position effectually preserves it from all

rivalry with neighboring nations, the army was, it may be said,

disbanded at the declaration of independence, but in a short time

afterward it sprang again into existence. Unhappily, the heads of the

new republic only looked to that power as an instrument for executing

its own ambitious designs. Since then, a warlike mania has seized a

people that had been pacifically disposed for three hundred years, and

gradually the army had become accustomed to decide upon and settle all

political questions. The result of this warlike transformation is well

known. To-day the pettiest Mexican officer fancies himself called on,

not by a political conviction, but only by his own ambition, to protect

or to overturn the established government. It would seem, as one might

say, that an article of the Constitution gives to every one the right of

becoming a colonel.

Accustomed since infancy to trample under foot all civil institutions,

the cadet, transformed into an officer almost before the age of reason,

and the soldier of fortune, to whom a long series of _pronunciamentos_,

in which he has taken part, has given a commission, have both in view

the same design, a rapid promotion by the same way, that of

insurrection. Liable to be broken at every instant by a sudden change in

the government, the officers have no hope of obtaining a higher grade

but by their swords. Then, according to the fortunes of civil war, the

officer who has fought his way to a higher rank, or who has seen the

banner under which he fought leveled with the dust, has no more chance

of getting his pay from the new government than he had from the old. He

thus constitutes himself a creditor of the state till some stray bullet

closes his account forever, or till the time when he can dip his fingers

into the public purse, and become a permanent debtor of those who have

outstripped him in his career. However, although the vicissitudes to

which the country has been subjected are numberless, it is the

exception, and not the rule, if the officer arrive at the head of

affairs; his life, in such a case, becomes only a continual series of

annoyances. Then, a revolutionist by ambition--a gambler by nature--a

contrabandist on occasion--a knave by necessity--a _remendon de

voluntades_[42] when in want, the officer practices every trade, deals

in all sorts of merchandise, and becomes at last more an object of pity

than blame; for he knows nothing of business, and his country never has

paid him for any service he has rendered her, not even though he may

have shed his best blood in her behalf.

The news of an approaching insurrection was doubtless soon communicated

to the men in the other room, for a deafening din drowned the general

hurrah, in which cries of Santa Anna forever! Death to Bustamente! Down

with Congress, and fifteen per cent.! and others, of a like import, were

shouted, and which will always find an echo in the hearts of people

still too young to know what true liberty is. When silence had been

re-established, I questioned my friend the lieutenant about the

political movement; but in a hurried tone, "Tut!" he replied; "here you

must seem to know nothing. I shall make you acquainted with every thing

afterward. For the moment, I have nothing more pressing than to pay my

score and go away. You must know that the country is as much your debtor

as if the debt had been committed to writing, for its safety is

concerned in the liberty of my person."

"About two such debtors I need have no fear," I said, gravely; "but how

comes it that a mere civilian has dared to place an embargo on a

military man?"

"Alas!" replied Don Blas, in a melancholy tone, "one must borrow

wherever one can. The misfortune is, that this inn is kept by an

officer, and I only learned that when, enchanted with the credit I

received here, I had used the place as if the owner had been a

civilian."

That the inn was kept by an officer was not at all astonishing to one,

like me, well acquainted with Mexican manners, but that an officer had

ventured to give credit to a comrade appeared a piece of the most

inexplicable rashness.