The Bandolero Part 24

"Si, senor; was, and is. Through the state of anarchy and revolution from which this unfortunate country has long suffered, like many others of his cla.s.s, he has risen to the paltry distinction of being an officer in our army--a captain, I believe. Among you, I am aware, the t.i.tle is one of distinction--not so easily earned, and substantial when obtained.

In the army of our so-called Republic, a swineherd to-day may be a captain to-morrow; and the captain of to-morrow a _salteador_ the day following!"

"Of course you know the name of this captain--whom you deem so unworthy of your daughter?"

The question was put mechanically, and without care for the answer. I knew that the name would be "Francisco Moreno."

It was.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

DON SAMUEL BRUNO.

Before separating from Don Eusebio I received from him a detailed account of the coach robbery, with all the allied incidents. It was necessary I should know everything; and everything was made known to me.

In addition to what he had already communicated, there was one fact of a curious, if not comical, character. Before permitting him to depart in the _diligencia_, the brigands had taken his bond for ten thousand dollars--as collateral security against the ransom of his daughters!

They had even gone so far as to require it in the shape of a written _acceptance_--to be cancelled and sent back along with the senoritas, whenever the cash should be forthcoming!

Such were the quaint stipulations of the _salteadores_!

Though sounding strange to English ears, no Mexican would be at all surprised at them. Oft and again have similar bargains been made--and kept--among the mountains of Mexico!

There was something that still perplexed me. How was this queer contract to be carried out?

I had been told that the usual mode is by a messenger; some one acquainted with the neutral ground--if there be such--lying between robber-land and the precincts of the police. This messenger meets an envoy--deputed by the brigands; the acceptance is honoured; the captives given up, and permitted to depart without further molestation!

In some cases even a _cheque_ has been taken in exchange; afterwards presented at the bank by one of the robbers themselves--and _paid_!

Who was to be Don Eusebio's deputy? This was a question that interested me.

The answer gave me great satisfaction. It was the driver of the _diligencia_ that had been stopped--known to his pa.s.sengers by the name of "Don Samuel Bruno."

When it is said, that the stage-coaches of Mexico are a modern importation from the United States, I need scarcely add that their drivers have been imported along with them. They are all, or nearly all, _States'_ men; and "Don Samuel," despite his _sobriquet_, was not an exception. He was simply Sam Brown.

Though the intended envoy of Don Eusebio, he had been nominated by the bandits themselves; no doubt for the reason that he knew where to carry the cash, and that it could be safely entrusted in his keeping. Any treachery on his part would put an end to his stage driving--at least, upon the roads of Mexico--and ten chances to one whether he should survive to handle the "ribbons" elsewhere.

Sam knew all this, on consenting to become a "go-between;" though it was scarcely by his own consent: since the office had been a.s.signed to him, not by request, but command.

It was a fortunate circ.u.mstance for me--the very thing I would have wished for. My chief difficulty--I had seen it from the first--would be to obtain an _interview_ with the knights of the road. With the stage-driver as a guide, the difficulty seemed more than half removed.

As good luck would have it, I knew something of Don Samuel. I knew him to be intelligent--and notwithstanding the ambiguous _role_ he was oft compelled to play--honest.

I was not long in placing myself _en rapport_ with him. As I had expected, I found him ready and right willing to "co-operate."

There was at this time much talk of our permanently occupying the country. In that case he would have nothing to fear for his future; but in any case he was too gallant to regard consequences where a _senorita_ was concerned.

There was yet another difficulty. Sam's appointment with the robbers had been made for an early hour of the next morning--the place of rendezvous a treeless plain lying under the shadow of forest-clad hills--not far from the noted inn of Cordova.

Alone he might easily meet the _parlamentarios_ of the other party; but it would be quite a different thing if he should go accompanied by a score of mounted men.

How was the difficulty to be got over?

I put the question to himself.

The intelligent Yankee soon bethought him of a scheme; and one that appeared feasible.

My party should make approach in the night; go into covert under the pine-forest that shrouded the slopes above the place of rendezvous; and leave Sam himself to come on in the morning--carrying the ransom-money along with him. That night he could go with us to a certain distance-- as a guide all the way--returning, to return again, at the hour of daybreak.

The plan seemed excellent. There was but one drawback. Our ambuscade could only affect the envoy of the robbers, not the robbers themselves-- whose den might be at a distance, among the pa.s.ses of the mountains.

"Don Samuel" did not see it in this light. With the bandit emissary in our power, and the dollars of Don Eusebio at our disposal, he did not apprehend any difficulty. If there were a _salteador_ in all Mexico proof against gold, Sam Brown did not believe it.

I was satisfied with his reasoning; and consented to act under his guidance.

But little time was required for preparation. The commander-in-chief-- not so ungenerous after all, and always liberal in the cause of humanity--had given me _carte, blanche_. I only drew a score of my own men--Mounted Rifles--with a small supplementary force of the dare-devils already alluded to.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

A YANKEE JEHU.

Along the lone causeway, three hundred years ago traversed by Cortez-- and now, instead of open water, with a _zanca_ on each side of it--we journeyed in solemn silence.

I had waited for that hour of the night when wayfarers, who might turn informers, were not likely to be encountered on the road.

We pa.s.sed the isolated hill of El Penon without meeting any one; and commenced skirting the saline sh.o.r.es of Tezcoco.

The ride, though long, was far from appearing tedious. How could it be in the company of a stage-coach driver--especially one from the "States?"

Who does not know him? Who that has journeyed upon the "corduroy roads"

of Kentucky, Mississippi, or Tennessee--who thus dreadfully jolted--does not remember the compensation he has had, in the cheerful conversation of the man who conducted him over these accursed causeways?

In Mexico he is met, just as in the States; mounted on the box of a "Troy" coach; dressed in jacket, or tailed-coat with short skirts; the universal white hat upon his head; and perchance a cigar sticking slantwise between his teeth. Thus he may be seen--and never seen without being liked--almost beloved--by those whose luck it is to have a seat upon the box beside him.

Light, tight, intelligent, and cheery--civil to the humblest outsider-- daring to a degree of recklessness--he is as different from the unwieldy six-caped carcase of English stage-coach celebrity, as a b.u.t.terfly to a buffalo. Who ever sate on the box beside him, without longing to sit there again?

Where is the guide-book that can tell you half so much of the road-- every turn and winding--every incident that has occurred upon it for the last ten years--murders, suicides, runaway matches, struggles with black bears, and chases of red deer--in short, everything worthy of being recorded?

And all this with a thorough disinterestedness--his sole design being to entertain you. No thought of the "tip" which your Old World Jehu expects to receive at parting company. Offer it to _him_, and in all likelihood he will fling it back at your feet! He has not yet been corrupted by the customs of king-loving communities.

Meet him in Mexico: for he is there. He had to go with the coaches imported from "Troy"--not the Troy of the Dardanelles, that "Ammon's sons ran proudly round"--but its modern, and more peaceful, namesake in the state of New York.

Although under a different name, the _diligencia_ of Mexico is the stage-coach of the States--its driver the same light-hearted happy fellow, with a good word for everybody, and a kindly smile for all the _muchachas_, plain or pretty, he may pa.s.s upon his route.

Interesting as this man is--and has been for a century in the United States--he is still more interesting upon the stage roads of Mexico.