"Rosendo," said Josè one morning shortly thereafter, as the old man
entered the parish house for a little chat, "a Decree has been issued
recently by the Sacred Congregation of the Holy Office whereby,
instead of the cloth scapulary which you are wearing, a medal may be
substituted. I have received several from Cartagena. Will you exchange
yours?"
"_Cierto_, Padre--but," he hesitated, "is the new one just as--"
"To be sure, _amigo_. It carries the same indulgences. See,"
exhibiting the medal. "The Sacred Heart and the blessed Virgin. But I
have arranged it to wear about the neck."
Rosendo knelt reverently and crossed himself while Josè hung the new
scapulary over his head. The old man beamed his joy. "_Caramba!_" he
exclaimed, rising, "but I believe this one will keep off more devils
than that old cloth thing you made for me!"
"Why, Rosendo!" admonished Josè, repressing a smile, "did I not bless
that one before the altar?"
"_Cierto_, Padre, and I beg a thousand pardons. It was the blessing,
wasn't it? Not the cloth. But this one," regarding it reverently,
"this one--"
"Oh, yes, this one," put in Josè, "carries the blessing of His Grace,
acting-Bishop Wenceslas."
"And a Bishop is always very holy, is he not, Padre?" queried Rosendo.
"It makes no difference who he is, for the office makes him holy, is
it not so, Padre?"
"Oh, without doubt," returned Josè, his thought reverting to the
little Maria and the babe which for four years he had been supporting
in distant Cartagena.
"_Na_, Padre," remonstrated Rosendo, catching the insinuation, "we
must not speak ill of the Bishop, lest he be a Saint to-morrow! But,
Padre," he went on, changing the topic, "I came to tell you that Don
Luis has given me a contract to cut wood for him on the island. A
quantity, too. _Hombre!_ I shall earn much money by its terms. I set
out to-morrow morning before daybreak."
Josè reflected. The man's words aroused within him a faint suspicion.
Don Luis and the Alcalde were boon companions. Josè wondered if in
this commission he could see the gloved hand of Don Mario. But he gave
no hint of his thought to Rosendo.
The next morning, long before sun-up, a mist lay thick over the
valley, so thick that Rosendo, as he made his way down to the lake,
scarce could distinguish the road ahead of him. The dry season had
passed, and the rains were now setting in. As he hurried along, the
old man mused dubiously on the contract which Don Luis had made with
him. To cut wood in the rainy season!--but, after all, that was no
concern of his. And yet--why had Padre Josè grown suddenly quiet when
he learned of the contract yesterday? His bare feet fell softly upon
the shales, and he proceeded more cautiously as he neared the water's
edge.
"_Hombre!_" he muttered, striving to penetrate the mist; "only a
_loco_ ventures out on the lake in such weather!"
He reached the boat, and placed in it the rope and axe which he had
brought. Then, still troubled in thought, he sat down on the edge of
the canoe and dropped into a puzzled meditation.
Suddenly through the fog he heard a sound. Somebody was approaching. A
fisherman, perhaps. But fishermen do not go out on the lake in dense
fogs, he remembered. The tread sounded nearer. He waited, speculating.
Then through the mist loomed the thick body of a man. Straining his
eyes, Rosendo recognized Padre Diego.
With a bound the old man was upon his feet. His thick arm shot out
like a catapult; and his great fist, meeting Diego squarely upon the
temple, felled him like an ox.
For a moment Rosendo stood over the prostrate priest, like a lion
above its prey. Then he reached into the canoe and drew out the axe.
Holding it aloft, he stood an instant poised above the senseless man;
then with a mighty swing he whirled about and hurled it far out into
the lake. He seemed suddenly bereft of his senses. Incoherent
muttering issued from his trembling lips. He looked about in
bewilderment. A thought seemed to impress him. He took the rope from
the boat and quickly bound Diego hand and foot. This done, he picked
up the unconscious priest and tossed him into the canoe as if he had
been a billet of wood. Jumping in after him, he hastily pushed off
from the shore and paddled vigorously in the direction of the island.
Why he was doing this he had not the faintest idea.
It was all the work of a few seconds; yet when his reason came again
Rosendo found himself far out in the thick fog, and his prisoner
moaning softly as consciousness slowly returned. The sense of
direction which these sons of the jungle possess is almost infallible,
and despite the watery cloud which enveloped him, the old man held his
course undeviatingly toward the distant isle, into the low, muddy
shore of which his boat at length forced its way under the impulse of
his great arms.
The island, a low patch a few acres in extent, lay far out in the lake
like a splotch of green paint on a plate of glass. Its densely wooded
surface, rising soft and oozy only a few feet above the water, was
destitute of human habitation, but afforded a paradise for swarms of
crawling and flying creatures, which now scattered in alarm at the
approach of these early visitors coming so unexpectedly out of the
heavy fog.
When the canoe grounded, Rosendo sprang out and pulled it well up into
the mud. Then he lifted the priest out and staggered into the thick
brush, where he threw his burden heavily upon the ground. Leaving his
prisoner for a moment, he seized his _machete_ and began to cut back
into the brush. A grunt of satisfaction came from his lips. Returning
to the now conscious Diego, he grasped the rope which bound him and
dragged him along the newly opened trail into a little clearing which
lay beyond. There he propped him up against a huge cedar. As he did
this, Diego's mouth opened wide and a piercing scream issued.
"Ricardo--help!" he called.
The cry echoed dismally across the desolate island. In an instant
Rosendo was upon him, with his knife clutched in his fist. "Repeat
that, _cayman_," he cried furiously, "and this finds your wicked
heart!"
The craven Diego shook with fear; but he fell silent before the threat
of the desperate man into whose hands he had so unwittingly fallen.
Rosendo stepped back and stood before his captive, regarding him
uncertainly. Diego's quick intuition did not fail to read the old
man's perplexity; and his own hope revived accordingly. It was a
pretty trick, this of Rosendo's--but, after all, he would not dare too
much. Diego gradually became easier in mind. He even smiled unctuously
at his captor.
"_Bien, amigo_," he said at length, "is this your customary reception
to visitors in your village? _Caramba!_ but what will the good Bishop
say when he learns that you have thus mistreated his trusted agent?"
Rosendo stood before him like a statue. His thought was confused, and
it moved slowly. In the cries of the disturbed birds he seemed now to
hear the warning voice of Carmen. In the watery vapor that rolled over
him he seemed to feel the touch of her soft, restraining hand.
"_Bien, compadre_," purred Diego, "would it not be well for you to
loosen this bit of thread, that we may make our way back to the
village? _Caramba!_ but it cuts sore--and I am soft, my friend, for I
have been ill."
Rosendo's wrath flared up anew. "What made you ill, _cayman_?" he
shouted, drawing nearer to the shrinking Diego and shaking a great
fist in his face. "What made you ill, buzzard? _Caramba!_ I would that
your illness had carried you off and saved me the task of sending you
down to purgatory!"
Diego became thoroughly alarmed again. "But--Rosendo--_caro amigo_,
let us reason together! Ah, _compadre_--loosen but a little this rope
which cuts into my tender skin as your bitter words do into my soul!"
"_Na_, vulture, but you will drown more quickly thus!" retorted
Rosendo, his huge frame trembling with agitation.
Diego's heart stopped. Then he sought to collect himself. He was
in a desperate plight. But the man before him was an ignorant _peon_.
It was not the first time that he had set his own wit against
another's brute strength. The ever-present memory of the girl
became more vivid. It glowed before him. What was it she had said?
"You see only your thoughts of me--and they are very bad!" Was he
seeing now only his own bad thoughts? But she had said they were
unreal. And this episode--_Hombre!_ he would not be afraid. His
thought was vastly more powerful than that of a simple _peon_! He
smiled again at his fear.
"But, _amigo_," he resumed gently, "if you had wished to drown me, why
did you bring me here? But--ah, well, I have long been prepared to go.
I have been sadly misunderstood--disbelieved--persecuted! Ah, friend
Rosendo, if you could know what I do--but--_Bien_, it is of no
consequence now. Come, then, good fellow, despatch me quickly! I have
made my peace with God." Diego ceased talking and began to murmur
prayers.
Rosendo stared at him in amazement. The wind was being taken from his
sails. Diego noted the effect, and resumed his speech. His voice was
low and soft, and at times great tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Rosendo, friend, I wish to go. I weary of life. There is no stain
upon my soul. And yet, I grieve that you must tarnish yours with my
blood. But," his eyes brightening and his tone becoming more
animated, "Rosendo, I will pray the blessed Virgin for you. When I am
with her in paradise I will ask her to beg the gentle Saviour to
forgive you. _Bien_, good friend, we shall all be together in heaven
some day." He started his orisons again, and soon was praying like a
locomotive: "_Ora pro nobis! Santa Maria, ora pro nobis!_"
He stopped and sighed gently. Rosendo stood stupidly before him.
"Rosendo--I must say this before I die--I came to Simití to see you. I
was approaching the boat to hold converse with you. But, you struck
me--there, _qué importa_! And yet--it was about the gentle Ana, your
beautiful daughter--But, wait, Rosendo--God above! hear me through--"
Rosendo had started again toward him.
"Good friend, hear me first, then kill me quickly, for I much desire
to go to my home above!" Diego spoke rapidly. The impression must be
made upon Rosendo at once, or all was lost. The wily priest knew the
_peon_ mind.
"_Bien_, good friend, you have misunderstood me. But I forgive you.
I--Rosendo--I--you will keep my secret, will you not? Bien, I have
left the Church. I am no longer a priest. It was for good reasons that
God took me from the priesthood for other work in His field. _Bien_,
the bonds of celibacy removed, behold! my first thought is for my
beautiful Ana. I came to ask you for her hand. I would render
legitimate her unborn child. I would return to her the peace which she
lost when we became so deeply enamored of each other. Rosendo, I have
come to Simití to lay my life before you--to yield it to the mother of
my child--to offer it in future service as a recompense for the
unhappiness which, the Virgin knows, I did not willingly bring upon
her, or you!"
Rosendo's head was now in a whirl. His eyes protruded, and his mouth
was agape. "But--the little Carmen--" he muttered.
"Alas! friend," said Diego sadly, shaking his head, while he quickly
grasped the cue, "I have ceased my endeavors to make you believe that
she is my child. _Caramba!_ I can only leave it to the blessed Virgin
to restore her to me when we have both passed the portals of death."
"You still claim to be her father? You--!"
"_Caro amigo_," returned Diego gently, "in these last moments I see in
her the beautiful image of her blessed mother, who was taken from me
long before I met and loved your Ana. But I despair of enforcing my
claim. I await now the reunion which death alone can effect. And so,
friend, be quick! But do not make me suffer. Drown me not, I pray you,
but rather open an artery and let me fall gently asleep here beneath
this noble tree."
A light came into Rosendo's troubled eyes. A cunning smile lurked
about his mouth.
"_Bien pues_, it shall be as you wish, vulture," he replied in a tone
which again struck terror to Diego's heart. He drew his knife and
approached the horrified priest.
"_Caramba!_" shrieked Diego, shrinking back against the tree.
"_Hombre!_ you do not intend--"
"Why not, vampire?" returned Rosendo, the sardonic smile spreading
across his grim features. "Did you not ask it?"
"But--_Hombre_! Back!--_Caramba_! Back!--Rosendo--God above! But would
you go down to hell with murder on your soul?"
"_Cierto_, carrion! I kill the body. But you go down with a load of
murdered souls!"
"Rosendo--God!--it means hell for eternity to you!"
"To be sure, dog-meat," calmly replied Rosendo. "But hell will be
heaven to me as I sit forever and hourly remind you of the suffering
Ana and the beautiful Carmen, whom you tried to ruin! Is it not so?"
"Ah, God!" Diego saw that he had lost. Wild thoughts flashed through
his mind with lightning speed. Desperation lent them wings. A last
expedient came to him. He fixed his beady eyes upon Rosendo and
muttered: "Coward! coward! you bind a sick man and stick him like a
pig!"
Rosendo hesitated. Diego quickly followed up his slight advantage.
"We give a deer, a tapir, a jaguar, a chance for its life. We fear
them not. But you--coward, you are afraid of a sick man! And a
priest!"
Rosendo could bear the taunt no longer. "_Caramba!_" he cried, "what
would you?" He leaped to the sitting man and at a stroke severed his
bonds. Diego got slowly to his feet.
"_Bien_, spew of the vampire! you have now a chance!"
Diego extended his empty hands, palms up. He smiled significantly.
Rosendo caught the insinuation.
"_Caramba!_ take the knife! _Hombre!_ but I will kill you with my bare
hands!" He threw the long knife to Diego, who stooped and picked it
up.
Stepping quickly back, holding the weapon firmly clenched before him,
the priest slowly circled Rosendo, as if looking for an opening. An
evil smile played constantly over his heavy face, and his little eyes
glittered like diamonds. Rosendo stood like a rock, his long arms
hanging at his side.
Then, with a shrill, taunting laugh, Diego turned suddenly and
plunged into the newly-cut trail toward the lake. In an instant he was
lost in the fog.
For a moment Rosendo stood dumb with amazement. Then he sprang after
the priest. But it was too late. Diego had reached the canoe, leaped
quickly in, and pushed off. Rosendo saw the mist swallow him. He was
left a prisoner, without a boat, and with two miles of shrouded water
stretching between him and the town!
A low moan burst from him. He had been tricked, outwitted; and the
evil genius which for years had menaced his happiness was heading
straight toward the town, where his accomplice, Ricardo, awaited. What
would they do, now that he was out of the way? The thought seared his
brain. Great beads of water, distilled from his agony, burst through
his pores. The Juncal river lay off to the west, and at a much less
distance than Simití. He might swim to it and secure a canoe at the
village. But--the lake was alive with crocodiles!
Chagrin and apprehension overwhelmed him, and he burst into a flood of
bitter tears. He threw himself upon the ground, and tossed and moaned
in despair. The fog thickened. A twilight darkness settled over the
waters. Nature--God himself--seemed to conspire with Diego.
Rosendo suddenly rose to his feet. He drew the new medal scapulary
around in front of him and kissed it, reverently crossing himself.
"_Santa Virgen_," he prayed, "help me--it is for the child!" Then,
taking between his teeth the knife which Diego had dropped, he rushed
into the water and struck out for the distant village of Juncal.
* * * * *
Late that afternoon, while the tropical rain was descending in
torrents, Rosendo staggered into the parish house, where Carmen and
Josè were absorbed in their work. "Padre!" he gasped, "_Loado sea
Dios!_" as his eyes fell upon the girl. Then he sank to the floor in
utter exhaustion.
"Rosendo! what is it?" cried Josè, bending over him in apprehension,
while Carmen stood lost in wonder.
"Padre Diego--!" cried Rosendo, raising himself up on his elbow. "Has
he been here?"
"Padre Diego!" cried both Josè and the girl in astonishment.
Instinctively Josè's arm went about the child. Rosendo dragged himself
to a chair and sank limply into it.
"Then, Padre, he will come. He is in Simití. He is no longer a
priest!"
Slowly the story came out, bit by bit. Josè listened in horror.
Carmen's face was deeply serious.
"_Bien_, Padre," said Rosendo, concluding his dramatic and
disconnected recital, "I plowed through the water--_Caramba!_ I knew
not at what moment I should feel the jaws of a cayman seize upon me!
But the Virgin had heard my prayer. I must offer a candle this night.
But I did not land at Juncal. It was some half league farther west.
_Bien_, I was then glad, for had I appeared in the village, all would
have said that I had murdered Diego! And so I struck out along the
trail that skirts the lake, and followed it around until I came here.
_Caramba_! but see how my feet are cut! And the rain--H_ombre_! it
beat me down--I fell again and again! And then, the fear that I was
too late--_Ah, Dios_! But she is safe--_Caramba_! the Virgin be
praised!"
"But, Rosendo," said Josè anxiously, "where can Diego--"
"He is here, _Caramba_! in Simití! _Hombre_! but I shall set out at
once and search every house! And he shall do well if he escape this
time!"
But dusk was falling; and the old man, his strength sapped, listened
not unwillingly to Josè's better counsel. With the coming of night the
rain ceased, and the clouds rolled up and slipped down behind the
mountains, leaving the moon riding in splendor across the infinite
blue. Then Josè, leaving Carmen with Rosendo, walked to and fro
through the streets of the old town, listening and watching. He
wandered down to the lake. He climbed the hill where stood the second
church. He thought he caught the gleam of a light within the old
edifice. He crept nearer. There were men inside. Their voices sounded
ghostly to his straining ears.
"But, friend Ricardo, he set out before dawn, and is not yet returned.
I fear he has either abandoned us, or has walked into our good
Rosendo's jaws."
"Hold your tongue, bleating calf!" cried the other petulantly. "It is
more likely that he and Don Mario lie pickled in rum under the palms
of the Alcalde's _patio_!"
Josè waited to hear no more. He hurried down through the main street
and past the house of Don Mario. The door stood open, and he could see
the portly figure of the official outlined against the back wall. It
was evident that Diego was not there. He returned in perplexity to his
house and sat far into the night, musing on the strange incident.
With the coming of the new day Rosendo appeared with fresh suggestions.
"_Bien_, Padre," he said, "there is nothing to do now but take the girl
and flee to the Boque river and to the _hacienda_ of Don Nicolás."
Josè related his experience of the previous night. Rosendo whistled
softly. "_Caramba!_" he muttered, "but this is a mystery! And--but
here comes Juan."
The lad entered excitedly. "Your canoe, Don Rosendo--as I started out
on the lake to fish I saw it, far in the distance. I brought it in.
There was neither pole nor paddle in it. And it was half full of
water. It must have drifted all night. Did it break away from its
mooring, think you?"
Rosendo looked at Josè. The latter replied quickly: "That is the most
reasonable supposition, Juan. But Rosendo is very grateful to you for
securing it again."
When the lad had gone, Rosendo sat with bowed head, deeply perplexed.
"The pole and paddle, Padre, were left on the island. I took them out
when we landed. Diego pushed off without them. He--the boat--it must
have drifted long. But--did he land? Or--"
He stopped and scratched his head. "Padre," he said, looking up
suddenly with an expression of awe upon his face, "do you suppose--do
you think that the Virgin--that she--made him fall from the canoe into
the lake--and that a _cayman_ ate him? _Ca-ram-ba!_"
Josè did not vouchsafe a reply. But his heart leaped with a great
hope. Rosendo, wrapped in profound meditation, wandered back to his
house, his head bent, and his hands clasped tightly behind his back.