The Bandolero Part 7

"What do you want?" I asked, addressing my antagonists in their own tongue--which by good fortune I spoke with sufficient purity.

"Your life!" was the laconic reply, spoken by a man of sinister aspect, "your life, _filibustero_! And we mean to have it. So you may as well put up your pistol. If not, we'll take it from you. Yield, Yankee, if you don't want to be killed on the spot!"

"You may kill me," I responded, looking the ruffian full in the face, "but not till after I've killed you, worthy sir. You hear me, cavallero! The first that stirs a step towards me, will go down in his tracks. It will be yourself--if you have the courage to come first."

I cannot describe how I felt at that queer crisis. I only remember that I was as cool, as if rehearsing the scene for amus.e.m.e.nt--instead of being engaged in a real and true tragedy that must speedily terminate in death!

My coolness, perhaps, sprang from despair, or an instinct that nought else could avail me.

My words, with the gestures that accompanied them, were not without effect. The tall man, who appeared to lead the party, saw that I had selected him for my first shot, and cowered back into the thick of the crowd.

But among his a.s.sociates there were some of more courage, or greater determination; and the cry, "Muera el Americano!" once more shouted on all sides, gave a fresh stimulus to the pa.s.sions of the _patriotas_.

Besides, the crowd was constantly growing greater, through fresh arrivals in the street. I could see that the six-shooter would not much longer keep my a.s.sailants at a distance.

There appeared not the slightest chance of escape. A death, certain as cruel--sudden, terrible to contemplate--stared me in the face. I saw no way of avoiding it. I had no thought of there being a possibility to do so--no thought of anything, save selling my life as dearly as I could.

Before falling, I should make a hecatomb of my cowardly a.s.sa.s.sins.

I saw no pistols or other firearms in their hands--nothing but knives and _machetes_. They could only reach me from the front; and, before they could close upon me, I felt certain of being able to discharge every chamber of my two revolvers. At least half a dozen of my enemies were doomed to die before me.

I was in a splendid position for defence. The house against which I had been brought to bay was built of _adobes_, with walls full three feet thick. The door was indented to a depth of at least two. I stood with my back against it, the jambs on both sides protecting me. My position was that of the badger in the barrel attacked by terriers.

How long I might have been permitted to hold it is a question I will not undertake to answer. No doubt it would have depended upon the courage of my a.s.sailants, and the stimulus supplied by that patriotic cry still shouted out, "_Muera el Americano_!"

But none of those who were shouting had reached that climax of recklessness, to rush upon the certain death which I stood ready to deal out.

They obstructed the doorway in front, and in a close threatening phalanx--like a pack of angry hounds holding a stag at bay, the boldest fearing to spring forward.

Despite the knowledge that it was a terrible tragedy, I could not help fancying it a farce: so long and carefully did my a.s.sailants keep at arm's length.

Still more like a burlesque might it have appeared to a spectator, as I fell upon the broad of my back--kicking up my heels upon the door-stoup!

It was neither shot, nor stab, that had caused this sudden change in my att.i.tude; but simply the opening of the door, against which I had been supporting myself.

Some one inside had drawn the bolt, and, by doing so, removed the support from behind me!

CHAPTER TEN.

THE STREET OF THE SPARROWS.

As I tottered upon my back, I felt my head and shoulders in contact with the legs of a man. They broke the fall, that might otherwise have stunned me: for the floor was of stone flags.

I lost no time in disentangling myself; but, before I could regain my feet, the man bounded over my body, and stood upon the threshold.

As he pa.s.sed between me and the light outside, I could see something shining by his side. It was a sword blade. I could see that the hilt was in his hand.

My first impression was that he had sprung into the doorway to intercept my retreat. Of course I cla.s.sed him among my enemies. How could I expect to find friend, or protector, in such a place?

It could make but little difference. I believed that retreat by the front door was out of the question. Double barring it would make things no worse.

Just then I bethought me of a chance of escape, not before possible.

Was there a back door? Or a stair up to the _azotea_?

My reflections were quick as thought itself; but while making them they lost part of their importance. The man was standing with his back towards me and his face to the crowd upon the street. Their cries had followed me in; and no doubt so would some of themselves, had they been left to their predilections.

But they were not, as I now perceived. He who had opened his door to admit, perhaps, the most unwelcome guest who had ever entered it, seemed not the less determined upon a.s.serting the sacred rights of hospitality.

As he placed himself between the posts, I saw the glint of steel shooting out in front--while he commanded the people to keep back.

The command delivered in a loud authoritative voice, backed by a long toledo, whose blade glittered deathlike under the pale glimmer of the lamp, had the effect of awing the outsiders into a momentary silence.

There was an interval in which I heard neither shout nor reply.

He himself broke the stillness, that succeeded his first salutation.

"Leperos!" he cried, in the tone of one who feels himself speaking to inferiors; "What is this disturbance? What are you after?"

"An enemy! A Yankee!"

"_Carrambo_! I suppose they are synonymous terms. To all appearance you are right," continued he, catching sight of my uniform, as he turned half round in the doorway. "But what's the use?" he continued. "What advantage can our country derive from killing a poor devil like this?"

I felt half indignant at the speech. I recognised in the speaker the handsome youth who had been before me with Mercedes Villa-Senor!

A bitter chance that should have made _him_ my protector!

"Let them come on!" I cried, driven to desperation at the thought; "I need no protection from you, sir--thanks all the same! I hold the lives of at least twelve of these gentlemen in my hands. After that, they shall be welcome to mine. Stand aside, and see how I shall scatter the cowardly rabble. Aside, sir!"

If I was not mad, my protector must have thought me so.

"_Carrambo_, senor!" he responded, without showing himself in the least chafed by my ungrateful answer. "You are perhaps not aware of the danger you are in. If I but say the word, you are a dead man."

"You'll say it, _capitano_!" shouted one on the outside. "Why not? The Yankee has insulted you. Let's punish him, if it be only for that!"

"_Muera! Muera el Americano_!"

My a.s.sailants, freshly excited by these cries, came surging towards the door.

"_Al atras, leperos_!" shouted my protector. "The first that sets foot over my threshold--humble as it is--I shall spit upon my sword, like a piece of _tasajo_. You are very brave here in the Callecito de los Pajaros! I doubt whether there's one among you who has met the enemy-- either at Vera Cruz, or Cerro Gordo!"

"You're mistaken there, capitan Moreno!" answered a tall dark man who stood out in front of his fellows, and whom I recognised as the chief of the trio who had first attacked me, "Here's one who has been in both the battles you are pleased to speak of; and who has come out of them, not like your n.o.ble self--a prisoner upon parole!"

"Captain Carrasco, if I mistake not?" sneeringly retorted my protector.

"I can believe that of you. Not likely to be a prisoner of any kind.

No doubt you took care to get well out of the way before the time when prisoners were being taken?"

"_Carajo_!" screamed the swarthy disputant, his face turning livid with rage. "You say that? You have heard it, _camarados_? Capitan Moreno sets himself up, not only as our judge, but the protector of our accursed invaders! And we must submit to his sublime dictation--we the citizens of Puebla!"