At the Point of the Sword Part 41

"Yes! 'The chief of the Silver Key'--that is what the black-browed ruffian called himself. Fancy my father, a Spanish gentleman, the prisoner of a band of half-dressed savages--your friends, Juan Crawford!"

"But I know nothing about it," I cried. "These men take no orders from me. The key was given me by the chief when I myself stood in need of protection."

"Nevertheless they are your friends, and they have dragged my father from his home."

"But why? Surely there must be a reason! Tell me what they said. Try to be calm, Rosa; your father's life may depend on your words."

"I know nothing. How should I? I was in bed. My father sat there writing when they broke into the house. The servants fled, and hid themselves like frightened sheep. The cowards! I dressed and ran here. My father had killed one ruffian, but--but he could not struggle against so many."

"I'll wager that he showed himself a brave man."

"He did; but they overcame him," she continued, speaking more calmly.

"They bound him with cords: he was helpless. I begged the big bandit to release him; I would have gone on my knees--I, a daughter of the Montillas!" and she drew herself up proudly.

"But the chief, Rosa--what did he say?"

"That my father was charged with a serious offence, and that he must be tried by the officers of the Silver Key. Think of that, Juan Crawford!--my father tried for his life by those dirty bandits! Oh, how I wish I was a man! Then they took him away. I was alone and friendless; I thought of you, and told the coachman to drive me to Lima. Then I remembered you were one of these people, and would have turned back. But my father's life is precious; I would beg it even of an enemy. O Juan, Juan, save him for me!"

She broke down utterly. I tried to comfort her, and failed. She did nothing but cry, "Save him, Juan, save him!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Save him, Juan, save him!"]

I had no faith in my power to help her, but I could not tell her so.

Why Raymon Sorillo had done this I knew no more than she--unless, indeed, he had discovered Don Felipe conspiring with the Royalists. In that case, perhaps, I might prevail on him to spare the prisoner's life, and to restore him to liberty when the war was over. It was only a tiny spark of hope, but I made the most of it.

"Listen, Rosa," I said cheerfully. "I do not belong to this society of which you speak, but its chief will do much for me. I will go to him now and use all my influence. I will beg him earnestly to spare your father's life, and I think he may grant it me. Cheer up, Rosa! In a few days I shall return and bring your father with me, most likely."

"O Juan, how shall I ever thank you! Forget the wild words I said to you. I was distracted with fear and anger; I did not mean them, Juan!"

"No, no," I answered soothingly; "I have forgotten them already. Now go to bed; I must start at once. I shall take a horse from your stables."

"You have no sword!"

"I shall not need one. There is no danger for me in the mountains.

The Indians will do me no harm."

As soon as she had promised to go to her room I returned to the hall, and calling the servants, sent one to explain matters briefly to my father, and asking that my mother would come and stay with Rosa for a while. Then going to the stables, I selected two good horses, and ordered a groom to help me to saddle them. Sorillo might or might not listen to my request, but it would be as well to waste no time on the journey.

The thought of taking Jose occurred to me, but I put it aside. There was really no danger in the journey, while if Sorillo would not listen to an appeal made in my father's name, he was not likely to listen at all.

Leading the spare horse, I rode through the grounds, cantered down the narrow lane, struck the highroad, and turned in the direction of the mountains. Just where Sorillo might be I could not tell, but I determined first of all to try the ravine where I had once spent several days.

I have said that I had little faith in the success of my mission. Why the Indians had committed this outrage was a mystery, and I could think of nothing which would help me to solve it. That Don Felipe had acted treacherously I could well believe; but why, in that case, did not Sorillo hand him over to the government? Why should the officers of the Silver Key take it upon themselves to try him?

I rode on gloomily till the sun was high in the heavens, halting at a solitary hut, where the woman gave me food and drink for myself and the animals. She was kind enough in this matter, but to my questions she would return no answers. She knew nothing about the war, except that the soldiers had slain her only son, and her husband had been absent for over a year. He might be Royalist or Patriot, she did not know, only she wished people were allowed to live in peace, and to cultivate their little plots of land.

Giving her some money, I mounted and rode on, feeling refreshed by the brief halt. The district was for the most part bare and uninhabited.

Here and there were the remains of a ruined hut, and on the route I pa.s.sed the deserted hacienda which had once afforded me a night's shelter. I met no people, except occasionally a few women and little children; the men and growing boys were in the mountains or in the ranks of the army.

It was evening when I reached the foot of the mountains. My horses were tired out, and the worst part of the journey still lay before me.

However, the light had not altogether faded, so I began the ascent, hoping to meet with some of Sorillo's men. As it chanced, I had not long to wait.

A sudden "Halt! who are you?" brought me to a stand, and I answered at random, "A friend of the Silver Key."

"Are you alone?" asked the voice, with just a tinge of suspicion.

"Yes," I replied. "I am Juan Crawford, and am looking for Raymon Sorillo. Can you take me to him?"

A man stepped from behind a rock, and eyeing me suspiciously, exclaimed, "Wait, senor. I cannot leave my post, but I will call for a guide;" and putting his hand to his mouth, he whistled softly.

The sound was answered by one from higher up, and presently a second Indian, armed to the teeth, came running down. The two talked together in whispers, and at last the second man said, "Come this way, senor; I will lead you to the chief. He will be pleased to see the son of Don Eduardo."

Under the circ.u.mstances I thought this rather doubtful, but I followed him up the path.

"Are you staying in the ravine?" I asked.

"Yes, senor, for the present."

"Did you go with the chief to Lima?"

"Ah, the senor knows of that! The old crocodile showed fight, and killed a good man; but he is safe enough now."

"He has not been put to death?" I asked, my forehead clammy with perspiration.

"Not yet, senor; he must first be tried."

"But what have you discovered?" I asked, thinking the fellow might be able to give me some information as to the cause of Don Felipe's abduction.

In this I was mistaken. The man knew, or pretended to know, nothing about it. The chief had given orders, but not reasons, and had, as usual, been obeyed unquestioningly. At a word from him his men would have ridden into Lima and dragged the president from his palace.

It almost seemed as if Sorillo expected his stronghold to be attacked.

The path was guarded by sentries, and a score of men were stationed at the entrance to the ravine, They pa.s.sed us through without trouble, and before long I found myself in the presence of the chief.

"You are surprised to see me?" I said briskly.

"Yes; I thought you were in Lima."

"I was there last night."

"You have made a wonderfully quick journey. You must be tired and in need of refreshment. Come; I can at least offer you a good supper."

"Not yet, thank you. I want to ask you a question first. What have you done with Don Felipe Montilla?"

"The dog is in the hut yonder."

He spoke with both anger and contempt; his face underwent a sudden change; for the first time I saw how cruel it could look. My heart sank as I realized the uselessness of any appeal to him for mercy.

Then I thought of Rosa, and said,--