At the Point of the Sword Part 37

In the morning I was inclined to laugh at my fears. Every one knew there were many people in Lima willing to welcome the Royalists, and it had been openly stated more than once that Don Felipe Montilla had only changed sides to secure his property. Doubtless Alzura, knowing this, had jumped to the conclusion that he would willingly return to his former allegiance.

"That is about all there is in it," said I, feeling a little more a.s.sured. "It is marvellous what stories some men can build up from a word here and there! If Alzura lives till the end of the war, he should be a novelist."

At this time I was a great deal in Lima, being employed by Colonel Miller in connection with the new expedition which Santa Cruz was to lead south. Several nights a week I slept at home, much to mother's satisfaction. My father continued to be busy in public matters, though he had resigned his office as a protest against the invitation to Bolivar.

Now, it chanced, about a fortnight after young Alzura's disquieting talk, that I had occasion to go late at night to Callao, and Jose offered to accompany me. It is likely enough that my mother put the idea into his head, for though brave enough herself, she was always fearful on my account. However, I was glad to avail myself of Jose's offer. The night was fine, the sky was studded with stars, and the moon, nearly at the full, gave forth a splendid light.

"You may go to bed, Antonio," said I to the old janitor, as he opened the gate. "We are not likely to return till morning."

"Do you remember our first night ride to Callao?" asked Jose. "There was no need for any one to sit up for us then."

"Yes, that I do. And the voyage in the schooner," I added gaily.

"That was an adventure, if you like! We were as near to death then, Jose, as ever we have been since."

"Yes," he said thoughtfully. "I have often wondered how we managed to escape."

Pa.s.sing through the outer gates of the park on to the highroad, we cantered our horses about a quarter of a mile, and then turned up a narrow lane which separated our property from that of Don Felipe Montilla.

Suddenly checking his horse, Jose whispered, "See to your pistols, my boy; there are hors.e.m.e.n coming this way."

CHAPTER XIX.

FALSE PLAY, OR NOT?

There was no actual reason why we should feel alarmed; but Lima was an unsafe place in those days, and people who travelled at night generally went well armed.

As yet the bend in the road prevented us from seeing any one, but listening intently, we distinctly heard the sounds of a horse's hoofs.

"There's only one, Jose," I whispered; and he nodded. I do not know that we should have taken any notice of the man, but for his efforts to conceal his ident.i.ty. We came upon him suddenly, while the moon shone full in his face, and before he had time either to draw his poncho closer or to pull the slouch hat over his eyes. Both these things he did quickly, but meanwhile we had seen, and a look of keen surprise shot across Jose's face. Recovering himself instantly, he said cheerfully,--

"Good-night, senor. Fine night for a ride."

"So you seem to think," replied the other surlily.

"You have come from the town, I see," said Jose, for we lived eastward of Lima; "is all quiet there?"

"Why shouldn't it be? Kindly allow me to pa.s.s; I am in a hurry,"

responded our morose stranger.

"Then 'twas lucky that you knew of this short cut," remarked Jose, nothing daunted by the fellow's manner. "Well, good-night, senor.

Pleasant ride!" and he drew his horse aside that the stranger might pa.s.s.

"He isn't any too polite!" I remarked, as digging his spurs into his horse the fellow galloped off. "He's a fine horseman, though, and has the air of a military man, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes," agreed Jose; "he certainly rides like a soldier."

"But he isn't in uniform."

"No; he has left his uniform at home, I expect."

"He must be pretty familiar with Lima to know this short cut."

"I daresay he is. But didn't you recognize him? Well, I suppose it's hardly likely you would; you were only a little chap at the time, and perhaps never saw him. He's a rascal to the marrow!"

"But who is he?" I asked impatiently.

"Pardo Lurena."

"Lurena? Haven't I heard my father speak of him?"

"Very likely. He was one of the 'young bloods' of Peru, and, being a cadet of a wealthy family, able to do much as he pleased. He was always a thorough ruffian, and the common people hated him like poison.

His pranks, however, were hushed up by those in authority, until, for some offence more startling than usual, your father got him clapped in prison. The Dons howled finely, but your father stood firm, and the people backed him up; so young Lurena had a taste of prison life.

There was great excitement over it at the time."

"What happened afterwards?"

"Lurena left Lima. He went from bad to worse, and finally joined the ranks. Of course his relatives used their influence, and he was given a commission; but he never rose very high, I believe."

"What could he be doing in Lima to-night?"

"Something rascally, I'll be bound! He may have been to the town, but I believe the last place he stopped at was over there," and Jose pointed toward Don Felipe's house.

"You don't think there's some treachery afoot between them, do you?"

"Why not? Once a traitor, always a traitor! Montilla means to save his property at all costs, and to pick up as much as possible in the general scramble. Should the Spaniards win, your father will say good-bye to his estates."

"Isn't your prejudice making you a little unjust, Jose? Remember that we know nothing against Don Felipe."

"Oh, don't we? He got the estates into his hands once, and by hook or by crook he'll get them again!"

I thought Jose exaggerated the danger, but this meeting with Lurena set me thinking. The fellow was evidently a Royalist soldier, and on a secret errand. If Jose's idea was correct, there could be only one object in his visiting Montilla.

But our neighbour was not the man to compromise himself unless there was a distinct chance of success. Had he learned any news favourable to the Royalist cause? If so, that might account for his action.

Silently we rode through the sleeping town and along the road to Callao, where Jose waited at an inn while I did the business which had brought me to the port. The bay was filled with shipping, and men were hard at work fitting out the transports for the troops ordered south.

"Isn't it rather risky to remove so many troops?" I asked the colonel.

"Suppose the enemy should swoop down on the capital?"

"They're quite welcome to do so," he replied, with a laugh. "Lima is of no use to us really; it's Callao that matters."

"Are you going with them, colonel?"

"No; I stay behind with General Sucre."