Ahead of the Army Part 9

"Any kind of farm with a house on it," said the senor. "You may have to learn all about haciendas before you get home."

"Just what I'd like to do," said Ned. "I'll learn how to ride, too. How soon are we to set out?"

"Not till after dark," said the senor. "But you need not be in any hurry to get into the saddle. You will have quite enough of it before you get out of it again. There is a long ride before us to-night."

"I'm ready," replied Ned, but nevertheless he looked at that Mexican saddle with doubtful eyes, as if he were thinking that it might possibly prove to be a place of trial for a beginner.

At that very hour there were several gentlemen in uniform closeted with Colonel Guerra in one of the rooms of the Castle of San Juan de Ulua.

The colonel appeared to have been giving them a detailed report of the condition of the fortress and of its means for defence, whether or not he had stated exactly the amount of the ammunition brought him by the ill-fated _Goshhawk_. Other subjects of conversation must now have come up, however, for one of them arose with great dignity of manner, remarking:

"My dear colonel, I am glad that I shall be able to make so encouraging a report to his Excellency. As for Colonel Ta.s.sara, we shall serve our warrant upon him some time to-morrow. We are informed that, beyond a doubt, the traitor Zuroaga intends to return from Europe shortly. As sure as he does, he will be engaged in dangerous intrigues against the existing order of things, and the good of the country requires that he shall be brought to justice before he can put any of his nefarious plans in operation. At the same time, we are a.s.sured that the invaders upon the Rio Grande will soon be defeated yet more thoroughly."

All the rest had arisen while he was speaking, and one of them, a fat, short man in a brilliant uniform, added, enthusiastically:

"We feel that we can rely upon you, Colonel Guerra. We pity the gringos if they should attempt to beleaguer this impregnable fortress. For my own part, I believe that Colonel Ta.s.sara's court martial can have but one result. His disobedience must be paid for with his life. All conspirators like Zuroaga should be shot as soon as they are captured.

This is not a time, my friends, for undue leniency."

"Gentlemen," responded Colonel Guerra with graceful courtesy, "I bid you all a brief farewell with sincere regret. Your visit has given me unmixed satisfaction. Do not forget that all of you are to dine with me to-morrow. From my very heart I can echo your n.o.ble sentiments of valor and patriotism and of devotion to our beloved commander-in-chief, his heroic Excellency, President Paredes."

Then followed smiles and handshakings of mutual confidence all around, and the visiting officers took their departure. Hardly had the door closed behind them, however, before Colonel Guerra again sat down, hoa.r.s.ely muttering between his set teeth:

"The snake-hearted villains! What they really hoped for was to find the fort and garrison in bad condition and unprovided, so that they might ruin me. They want my disgrace and removal, to make room for one of them. I don't believe they will catch either Ta.s.sara or Zuroaga this time. The colonel will soon raise his new regiment, and my old friend will be down in Oaxaca in safety, waiting for the hour that is to come.

Paredes would give something to see my last letter from Santa Anna."

So there were many plots and counterplots, and the politest men might not be always what they seemed.

CHAPTER VIII.

OUT OF THE TIERRA CALIENTE

Those were days of great commotion in the Congress of the United States.

The whole nation, South as well as North, was divided in opinion as to the righteousness and expediency of the war with Mexico. There were two great parties, both of which have long since pa.s.sed away, for the question of the annexation of Texas is no longer before the people, and all this was more than half a century ago. One of the parties called itself "Whig," but its enemies described its members as "c.o.o.ns," in the habit of roosting up a tree out of reach. The other party called itself "Democratic," while its opponents lampooned its members as "Loco-focos,"

comparing them to the blue-headed sulphur matches of that name, which were largely manufactured and did not burn very well. Party feeling ran high, and the debates in Congress were red-hot. The Democratic President, James K. Polk, was a man of far greater ability and statesmanship than his party enemies were willing to give him credit for, and he was supported by a brilliant array of politicians. On the other hand, the Whig party contained a number of our most distinguished statesmen, and, curiously enough, most of the generals of the army, including Winfield Scott and Zachary Taylor, were well-known Whigs. It was not altogether unnatural, therefore, that the Democratic party in power should wish to put the command of any army preparing for the invasion of Mexico into the hands of officers who were in favor of the war which they were to carry on. Questions like this, and some others relating to the unprepared condition of the American army for so tremendous an undertaking, were responsible for the fact that there was a long delay in all military operations, even after the hard and successful fighting done by General Taylor's forces at the Rio Grande.

American cruisers were tacking to and fro over the waters of the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean Sea, without any especial errand of which their commanders were aware. Regiments of eager volunteers were forming in several of the States, and were trying hard to discover officers who knew how to drill and handle them. The politicians were everywhere calling each other harder and harder names. Not one soul in all the United States, however, knew anything of a party of mounted men, a carriage, and a spring-wagon, which quietly made its way out of the city of Vera Cruz, not long after sunset, one sultry and lazy evening. At the head of this cavalcade rode two men, who sat upon their spirited horses as if they were at home in the saddle. At their right, however, was a young fellow on a black pony who was entirely satisfied with the fact that the beast under him did not seem to have any spirit at all. He was at that moment steadying his feet in the stirrups, and remarking to himself:

"I'm glad none of them saw me mount him. I got upon a high box first, and even then my machete was tangled with my legs, and I all but fell over him. I'll get the senor to show me how, or I'll be laughed at by the men."

He was doing fairly well at present, for the road went up a hill, and the night was not one for foolishly fast travelling. He could listen all the better, and one of his companions was saying to the other:

"My dear Zuroaga, we have gained four miles. Every one of them is worth something handsome to you and me. In my opinion, we did not get away a moment too soon to save our necks."

"Not one minute!" replied the other, with strong emphasis. "Not even if Guerra can succeed in gaining for us the best part of another day, as he believed he could. Perhaps our best chance, after all, is that he has only one company of lancers, and that any officer sent with it might have instructions which would take him by another road than this."

"The inspector-general had with him an escort of his own," said Ta.s.sara.

"If he should send those fellows, they would be likely to know how to find us. They are not under the orders of Guerra."

"If," exclaimed Zuroaga, fiercely, "they do not overtake us until after the middle of our second day out, I believe they would be unlucky to try to arrest us. I hope they will be wise, and not tire out their horses with too much haste. I feel as if I could shoot pretty straight if I should see them coming within range."

"So could I," replied Ta.s.sara.

The road which they were then following ran between cultivated lands on either side. It was not tree-shadowed, and, as Ned looked back, the moonlight showed him something that made him think rapidly. Additional hors.e.m.e.n had joined them after they had left the city behind them, and it occurred to him that arrangements had been made beforehand for something like a small war. There were not less than twenty armed men, besides himself and the pair who were with him. For some reason or other, moreover, the wagon, which was drawn by four mules, and the carriage, drawn by a pair of fine animals of the same sort, were driven on well in advance. It appeared, therefore, as if no danger was expected to meet them from the opposite direction, and that Senora Ta.s.sara and her daughter were fairly well protected from any peril which might come after them along the road from Vera Cruz. The next thing that struck Ned, little as he knew about war, was that these hors.e.m.e.n were riding two and two, not in a straggling procession, but in as perfect order as if they had been trained cavalry. If he had known a little more, he would have declared:

"That is just what they are."

He might not also have known that all but six of them were from the Ta.s.sara estates, and that the odd half-dozen were lifelong servants of the proscribed descendant of Hernando Cortes. If he could have understood those men, he might also have comprehended one important feature of the tangled politics of Mexico, and why ambitious military men were every now and then able to set up for themselves, and defy the central government until it could manage to capture them, and have them shot as rebels. Wiser men than he, looking at the matter from the outside, might also have understood how greatly it was to the credit of President Paredes that he was making so good a stand against the power of the United States while hampered by so many difficulties. Ned was no politician at all, and it was a mere impulse, or a tired feeling, which led him to pull in his pony and let the men catch up with him, so that he might chat with them, one after another, and get acquainted. He found that they were under no orders not to talk. On the contrary, every man of them seemed to know that Ned had come home from the school which he had been attending in England, and that he had been instrumental in procuring powder and bullets for them and for the Mexican army. They were full of patriotism of a peculiar kind. It would have made them fight gringos or any other foreigners to-day, and to-morrow to fight as readily in any causeless revolution which their local leaders might see fit to set going. They were eager for all the news Ned could give them, and he was soon on good terms with them, for he took pains not to let them know how uncomfortable he felt in that saddle. They surely would have despised any young Mexican who had forgotten how to ride while he was travelling in Europe.

Hour after hour went by, and on every level stretch of road the wheeled vehicles were driven at a moderate trot. The horses of what Ned called the cavalry also trotted occasionally, but it was well for him that his pony did not seem to know how. Whenever he was asked to go faster, he struck into a rocking canter, which was as easy and about as lazy as a cradle, so that his rider received hardly any shaking, and was able to keep both his seat and his stirrups. Brief halts for rest were made now and then. Bridges were crossed which Ned understood were over small branches of the Blanco River, but they were still in the lowlands when, at about midnight, the little column wheeled out of the road and went on for a hundred yards or more into a magnificent forest, where the moonlight came down among the trees to show how old and large they were.

"Halt! Dismount!" came sharply from Colonel Ta.s.sara. "It is twelve o'clock. We have made over twenty miles. We will camp here until daylight. Pablo, put up the tents."

Every rider but Ned was down on his feet in a twinkling, but he remained upon his pony's back as still as a statue. He saw a white tent leave the top of the baggage in the wagon and set itself up, as if by magic.

Another and another followed, and he said to himself:

"They are little picnic tents. One is for the senora and Felicia; one for the colonel; and one for Senor Zuroaga. Not any for me or for the men. Oh, dear! How shall I ever get down? I can't move my legs. If I can't, I shall have to go to sleep in the saddle!"

That was just what he might have done if it had not been for his kind and thoughtful friend, the general,--if he was one,--for Zuroaga now came to the side of the pony to inquire, with a merry laugh:

"How are you now, my boy? I knew how it would be. Tired out? Stiff with so long a ride? Lean over this way and I'll help you down. Come!"

Ned leaned over and tried to pull his feet out of the stirrups. They did come out somehow, and then he made an extra effort not to fall asleep with his head on the general's shoulder.

"Used up completely!" exclaimed Zuroaga. "Can you walk? Stretch your legs. Kick. It's your first long ride? You'll soon get used to it.

There! Now I'll put you into my tent, but we must be on the march again by six o'clock in the morning. You can sleep till breakfast."

"I can walk, thank you," responded poor Ned, and he did so, after a lame and awkward fashion, but he was glad to reach the tent. "It's big enough for two," he said, as he crawled in.

"Is it?" said the general. "Bah! I do not use one half the time. I am a soldier and a hunter, and I prefer to bivouac in such weather as this. I must be on the lookout, too, to-night. Crawl in and go to sleep."

Ned was already in. Down he went upon a blanket, without even unbuckling his machete, and that was the last that he knew that night of the camp or of anybody in it. Probably, nothing less than the report of a cannon fired over that tent would have aroused him to go for his horse-pistols or draw his Mexican sabre.

Senora Ta.s.sara and her daughter had disappeared immediately, and they, also, must have been wearied with their long, hot journey, but all the rest of the party were old campaigners, and they were ready to take care of the horses and eat cold rations, for no fires were kindled.

A few minutes later, if Ned had been awake instead of sleeping so soundly, he might have heard what two men were saying, in half-whispers, close to the door of his tent.

"Colonel," said Zuroaga, "we are well-hidden in here. The bushes are very thick along the edge of the road."

"Hark!" interrupted Ta.s.sara. "Do you hear that? There they are!"

"I hear them," replied the general. "It may be so. If it is, they have followed us well. But there cannot be more than half a dozen of them. It is not any mere squad like that that we need be afraid of."

"This may be only an advance party, I think," said his friend, thoughtfully. "A larger force may be on our trail before to-morrow night. But they must not take us. They might merely arrest me, to have me shot at Vera Cruz, but they would cut down you and poor young Carfora at once. He is an American, and they would show him no mercy."

There had been a sound of horse hoofs on the road, and it had gone by, but before Zuroaga could make any response to so gloomy a prophecy, his own man, Pablo, stood before him. Pablo had been running fast, but he had breath enough left to say, quite coolly and not loudly: