Myths & Legends of our New Possessions & Protectorate Part 7

"Never mind your fears. Come, now: You were pa.s.sing the deserted inn on the Minas road, you say, when you heard a voice. The voice of one of the brigands?"

"I hardly think so, senor."

"How? You charge this defendant here ----"

"With attempted robbery. Yes, senor attorney. But it was not his voice that spoke. I think worse mischief has been done near the inn."

"Worse mischief?"

"Truly. For when this thief heard the words he let his pistol fall and dropped the bridle of my mule. By the moon I could see his face glisten with sweat, and it looked white."

"He was afraid, eh? He was a coward? This poor cheat of a creature could not even be a brigand?"

"Afraid! Any one would be. As for myself, I gave my mule a cut and he was off at a lope, with this fellow coming after as fast as his legs could carry him, until he ran plump into the arms of the civil guard."

"Yes, yes. You have told all that. But this voice. You heard it plainly?"

"Why, yes, although it sounded as if it came from a distance, or from under a building, or--or--out of a tomb. I couldn't--I couldn't help thinking it sounded like a man beneath a floor."

The attorney twisted his beard again impatiently, coughed, then tightly folded his arms. He was silent for a little. Then, as if surprising himself out of a revery, he commanded, "Well, well. Go on."

"This voice, senor," resumed the witness, leaning forward and speaking mysteriously, "it was so hollow and low, and spoke the words so long, like a creature dying and in pain, and it gave me a chill."

"Are you never to tell us what it said?"

"It moaned, 'For the sake of the Virgin, of Her Blessed Son, of the Holy Saint Peter, of the Good G.o.d, pray for me. Pray for a sinner. Beg the good fathers at Nuevitas to say a ma.s.s for the soul of Enrique Carillo.' Then there was a sort of groan----"

"My G.o.d!" It was the prosecutor who had gasped the words.

"Yes, just like that. Ah! Pardon, senor. I did not see. You are ill."

For the lawyer's face had become of a deathly pallor, his head had sunk forward, his lips trembled, his hands shook as they clutched the edge of the table behind him. The idlers in the back of the room were awake in a moment. The sun touched the figure of Christ, splashed with blood in the fashion of the official crucifix, and it seemed to look down on the scene below as in torture. The prisoner's counsel sprang forward, placed a chair for his opponent and helped him to be seated. An officer brought a gla.s.s of water, which the lawyer drank eagerly, then sat as in a daze for an instant, shuddered, pa.s.sed his hands over his face, and said, "I ask the indulgence of the court. I have lost my sleep for the last few nights. I--I----"

The senior judge had half-risen, his wig awry, his hands gripping the arms of the chair. "Clear the court! It is the fever!" he cried.

There was a stampede of the unoccupied in the back of the room. The others in the court reached for their hats and drew away, leaving the prosecutor alone. He smiled faintly. "No, your Honor," he said. "It is over now. It was a touch of faintness; nothing more."

"With the consent of counsel I will adjourn the case."

The face of the prosecutor hardened; he set his jaw doggedly, he regained his feet with a sort of spring. The judges slipped back deeper into their seats; the elder wiped his brow and puffed.

"We will go on," said the attorney, in a calmer voice. "The testimony is practically exhausted. I have to confess that I have been somewhat disappointed in the witnesses, but I submit the case on the evidence without argument."

It was plain that the people's representative was not at his best that morning. The trial was hurried on, the lawyer for the defence insisting princ.i.p.ally that, as the complainant had fled from the scene of the attempted robbery without looking back, he could not possibly swear that the man in the prisoner's dock was the one who had held his bridle. Was it not at least probable that the accused had told the truth when he said he had been roused by the outcry of the man on mule-back and had run down the road to see what the matter was? Moreover, as no loss had been suffered, was it not a slender ground for prosecution? The old judge looked back at the crucifix. The illumination was pa.s.sing. The knees were already in shadow. He was an hour late for his lunch. He whispered with the other judges for a moment, then smote the desk before him. "No evidence. The prisoner is discharged. Adjourn the court," he exclaimed. And for once in the history of Puerto Principe the law had been prompt. The accused, who had been stolid and dull throughout the trial, now smiled cunningly to himself, and saying no word to any one, but with a sidelong look at the lawyers, left the building without loss of time, and after investing a few coppers in bad brandy at the least inviting groggery in town, disappeared down the road leading toward Minas. There were several anxious inquiries at the house of Prosecutor Ramirez that evening, but he was in his usual health. There was no occasion for alarm as to the fever.

Two nights after this a couple of planters were stopped near the old inn by a man of rough appearance, whose face was masked, and were forced at the pistol's point to give up their watches and money. A few nights later a man left town with money to discharge a bill. He never reached his destination. In each case the criminals left no trace. The environs of Puerto Principe were growing in ill-repute.

The prosecutor was leaving home on an evening when rain seemed threatening. This was probably his reason for wearing a cloak,--a protection seldom needed, except at night and in bad weather. It was against his usual habit that he had drawn his cloak high about his shoulders, so that his face was half-concealed, and this made it the more difficult for one who was following to know if he were, or were not, the man he sought. Convinced, after a little, that he was, he hurried forward and placed his hand on his arm. The lawyer started and uttered an exclamation. "Are you not Don Pablo Ramirez?" asked the unknown.

The prosecutor looked long and searchingly at the frank-faced stranger, then answered, shortly, "I am he."

"I thought so. Allow me: I am Captain Alfonso Garcia Estufa, of the Engineer Corps. I come from Havana with authority from the governor-general to confer with you about the brigands in this province."

"Ah, indeed! You are welcome, senor captain. I was about to make a business call on a tenant in this street. May I ask if you will make my house your own till I return? I shall be absent but a few moments. I will go back with you and open the door. Enter, if you please. The sherry is on the sideboard. Cigars you will find on the table. Call my servant, if you require anything." Then, hurrying out once more, the lawyer almost ran upon his errand. In a quarter of an hour he returned and the two began their discussion over a decanter of choice Madeira.

"It still seems to me," said the young officer, after the talk had been going on for some minutes, "that the bold policy is the better, though we may need secrecy in certain cases, for these devils of brigands smell powder a mile away. On my life, they do. I've dealt with them in Pinar del Rio, and they tell me they are more slippery and far-seeing, or far-smelling, in this province. They must have confederates here in town."

"Confederates? Preposterous, senor! Why do you think that?"

"Oh, I've been investigating a little. Either the brigands here are clever, or some man who is more clever has them in hand, and knows enough not to mix with them,--some man who can persuade them, or terrorize them, or shield them. Have you no conceit as to who in this city is fitted for a chieftainship like that?"

"I? None."

"I had hoped you knew your fellow-citizens well enough to advise me whom to watch. No? Then, at least, tell me where it would be best to place my men."

"The trails toward Sibanicu."

"Trails? Sibanicu? Why, there's no travel in that quarter. The robberies have happened between here and Minas."

"Exactly. So many have happened that the brigands must abandon it henceforth. They know they are watched, and I'll warrant your coming here, and the object of it, are already common talk among them."

"Humph!"

"People who are bound for the coast are beginning to go around already, so as to avoid the Minas road. If our scamps are as clever as you think, they will not be long in following."

"There is something in that, and I thank you for the hint. We will meet again shortly. Meanwhile, pray study the situation."

"You are not going?"

"I cannot stop with you, senor, greatly as I should be pleased to do so, for I have agreed to meet my lieutenants at the other end of the town. Good-night."

"Good-night, then, if you will not stay. Tell me early what success you have in the chase of our good citizens of Puerto Principe."

The captain left the house with a light and jaunty step, yet he looked about him thoughtfully. He had not gone far when the night stillness was broken by the crack of a fire-arm not ten paces away. A bullet cut his hat. He turned quickly. n.o.body was in sight. The air was thick with mist, and n.o.body was stirring. "Scoundrel!" cried the officer, shaking his fist at the darkness. "You shall pay dear for that--you and your people. Do you hear?"

There was no answer. He walked on at a faster pace.

Before the sun was up next morning the captain and his men had withdrawn from Puerto Principe. Few in the town knew that he had been there. None knew whither he had gone.

It was nine o'clock on the night following the interview. A fitful wind stirred the trees that densely shadowed the Minas road. From a c.h.i.n.k in the walls of a dilapidated house that stood back from the highway a light shone faintly, but except for the sough of the leaves and the whirring and lisping that betoken the wakefulness of insect life there was no sound. None? What was that? Down the road, from Nuevitas way, came a blowing and stamping of horses laboring through mud. The crack of light still shone, and nothing moved along the wayside. As the horses came nearer a lantern could be seen hanging from the sheep-neck of the older one, and two voices could be heard in talk,--such village gossip as farmers might exchange when the way was tiresome. The horses plodded on till they were abreast of the house, when there was a whistle; the crack of light widened, suddenly there was a rush of feet, a torch was brandished, and brown hands fell upon the bridles.

One of the riders cried out, flung up his arms, and begged for mercy. They might take his master's money, if they would, but for the sake of St. Isaac, St. Matthew, and St. John, let them spare his life. The other horseman, tall, spare, wrapped in a cloak, swung down from his saddle in a business-like way, addressed a remark in a low tone to the brigands, took the lantern from the neck of his neighbor's nag,--it was a fine, mettled black he rode himself,--turned up the flap of his hat a little, only a little, not enough to reveal his face, and proceeded to rifle the pockets and saddle-bags of his amazed companion. The lantern and the torch shone on six or eight as hang-dog faces as would be met in a day's journey, and among them was one closely resembling the prisoner who had been discharged on a trial two or three weeks before for lack of evidence. The victim of this robbery having given up all he seemed to possess was told to ride straight into town without word or halt, else he would be shot, and a fierce stroke being given with the whip, his horse was off at such a gallop that he had much ado to keep his seat. The thieves heaped the saddle-bags and parcels into the middle of the road and bent near, while the man in the cloak opened them and examined their contents in the flickering light. A gust of wind made the torch flare and put the lantern out. The cloaked man muttered an oath, and had partly risen to his feet, when there came a sound that caused him to stagger and hold his hands to his head as if in mortal terror. It was a wailing voice, and it pleaded, "For the sake of the Virgin, of Her Blessed Son, of the Holy Saint Peter, of the Good G.o.d, pray for me. Pray for a sinner. Beg the good fathers at Nuevitas to say a ma.s.s for the soul of Enrique Carillo."

The cloaked man groaned. The others crouched, shuddering, and their eyes in the red torch-flame were the eyes of goblins. In another moment a shock ran through the group, for another voice, clear and stern, commanded, "As you value your lives, don't stir. Men, do not fire unless I tell you."

A light flashed up, then another, and the bandits discovered themselves in the centre of a ring formed by twenty men, with the young captain in command. Resistance would have been foolish, flight impossible; yet, as the captain stepped toward the brigand leader, the man in the cloak attempted the foolish and impossible; he fired his pistol full at the captain's head, flung the weapon after the bullet, missing his aim each time, then started to run, upsetting one of the soldiers as he did so.

"Fire!" cried the captain.