Gustave Aimard
The Rebel Chief: A Tale of Guerilla Life

CHAPTER XXXI
TRIUMPH

This unforeseen victory, so brilliant and complete, gained by Miramón over veteran troops commanded by renowned officers, restored courage and hope to the terrified partizans of the President of the Republic. The temper of the troops changed to such an extent, that they no longer doubted the triumph of their cause, and in a few minutes grew to regard it as definitively gained. Amid the general joy, Miramón alone entertained no illusions as to the value of the victory he had gained. For him this new lustre cast on his armies, which had so long been victorious, was only the last and brilliant flicker of an expiring torch. He was too thoroughly acquainted with the precarious position to which he was reduced, to entertain for a single moment delusive hopes. Still in his heart he thanked fortune for the last smile she had deigned to grant him, and which would prevent him from falling from power like a common man. When the cavalry sent in pursuit of the fugitives, to prevent them from rallying, at length rejoined the main body, which had remained on the field of battle, Miramón, after granting his troops two hours' rest, gave orders to return to Mexico.

The return of the expeditionary force was not nearly so rapid as its preceding march. The tired horses only advanced with difficulty. The infantry had dismounted to escort the prisoners, and thus the cannon and numerous baggage waggons, which had been captured and now followed the army, could only pass along a wide and beaten road, which compelled Miramón to follow the high road and occasioned him a delay of several hours. It was about ten at night when the vanguard of the expeditionary force reached the garitas of Mexico. It was quite dark, and yet the city appeared in the darkness, flashing with an innumerable quantity of lights.

Good news, like bad, is propagated with extraordinary rapidity. Let anyone who can solve the almost insoluble problem, but it is certain that the battle was scarce terminated at Toluca, ere its issue was known in Mexico. The rumour of the brilliant success gained by the President immediately ran from mouth to mouth, though no one could tell whence he obtained it. At the news of this unhoped-for victory, the joy was universal, enthusiasm raised to its utmost pitch, and at nightfall the citizens spontaneously illuminated. The ayuntamiento awaited the President at the entrance of the city to offer him their congratulations. The troops marched between two compact lines of people, uttering frenzied shouts, waving handkerchiefs and hats, and letting off any quantity of squibs, in sign of rejoicing. The bells, in spite of the late hour, rang a full peal, and the numerous shovel hats of the clergy mingled with the crowd, proved that the priests and monks, so cold on the previous day for the man who had ever supported them, had suddenly felt their slumbering enthusiasm aroused at the news of his victory.

Miramón passed through the crowds, cold and impassive, returning with an imperceptible expression of irony the salutations incessantly made to him on both sides of the road. He dismounted at the palace; a little in front of the gate a man was standing motionless and smiling. This man was the adventurer. On seeing him, Miramón could not restrain a movement of joy.

"Ah, come, come, my friend," he exclaimed walking toward him.

And, to the general stupefaction, he passed his arm through his and led him into the interior of the palace. When the President reached the private cabinet, in which he usually worked, he threw himself into an easy chair, and wiping with a handkerchief his damp face, he exclaimed with an ill-tempered tone: "Ouf! I am half dead! This stupid recantation, at which I was forced to be present against my will has, on my honour, wearied me more than all the other events of this day, futile though it was in extraordinary incidents."

"Good," the adventurer replied affectionately. "I am glad to hear you speak thus, General. I was afraid lest you might be intoxicated by your success." The General shrugged his shoulders disdainfully.

"What do you take me for, my friend?" he answered. "What a wretched opinion you must have of me, if you suppose that I am a man to let myself be thus blinded by a success which, brilliant though it may appear, is in reality only one victory more to register, while its results will be null for the welfare of the cause I support?"

"What you say is only too true, General."

"Do you fancy I am ignorant of it? My downfall is inevitable: this battle will only retard it for a few days. I must fall, because, in spite of the enthusiastic shouts of the mob – ever fickle and easy to deceive – what has hitherto constituted my strength, and has sustained me in the struggle I undertook, has abandoned me for ever. I feel that the temper of the nation is no longer with me."

"Perhaps you go too far, General! Two battles more like this one, and who knows if you will not have regained all you have lost?"

"My friend, the success of today's battle belongs to you. It was owing to your brilliant charge in the enemy's rear, that they were demoralised and consequently conquered."

"You insist on seeing everything in gloomy colours. I repeat again: two battles like this one, and you are saved."

"These battles I shall fight, my friend, if they grant me the time, be assured. Ah! If instead of being alone, blockaded in Mexico, I still had faithful lieutenants holding the country, after today's victory, all might be repaired."

At this moment the door of the cabinet was opened, and General Cobos appeared.

"Ah! It is you, my dear General," the President said to him, holding out his hand and suddenly reassuming a laughing air. "You are welcome. What motive procures me the pleasure of seeing you?"

"I implore your Excellency to excuse me for venturing to appear thus, without being announced; but I have to talk with you on serious matters, which admit of no delay."

The adventurer made a movement to withdraw.

"Stay, I beg of you," the President said, checking him by a sign. "Speak, my dear General."

"Excellency, the greatest disorder is prevailing on the Plaza among the people and the troops; the majority are noisily demanding that the officers taken prisoners today, may be immediately shot as traitors to the country."

"What?" the President asked, drawing himself up and turning slightly pale. "What is that you are saying, my dear General?"

"If your Excellency will deign to open the windows of this cabinet, you will hear the cries of death which the army and the people are raising in concert."

"Ah!" Miramón muttered. "Political assassinations committed in cold blood after the victory: I will never consent to authorise such odious crimes. No, a thousand times no! I at least will never have that said of me. Where are the captured officers?"

"In the interior of the palace, under a guard in the courtyard."

"Give orders for them to be at once brought into my presence: go, General."

"Ah, my friend," the President exclaimed with discouragement, as soon as he found himself alone with the adventurer, "what can be hoped from a nation so devoid of moral feeling as ours? Alas! What will the European governments think of this apparent barbarity? What a contempt they must feel for our unfortunate nation! And yet," he added, "this people is not bad-hearted, it is its long slavery which has rendered it cruel, and the interminable revolutions to which it has been constantly a victim for forty years. Come, follow me; we must put an end to this."

He then left the cabinet accompanied by the adventurer, and entered an immense saloon, in which his most devoted partizans were assembled. The president dent seated himself in a chair raised on two steps, prepared for him at the end of the room, and the officers who remained faithful to his cause, grouped themselves on either side of him. At an affectionate nod from Miramón the adventurer remained by his side, apparently indifferent.

A noise of footsteps and the rattling of arms were heard outside, and the captured officers, preceded by General Cobos, entered the hall. Although they affected calmness, the prisoners were rather anxious as to the fate reserved for them. They had heard the cries of death raised against them, and were aware of the ill feeling of Miramón's partizans towards them.

The one who walked first was General Bercozabal, a young man of thirty at the most, with an expressive head, firm and delicate features, and a noble and easy demeanour. After him came General Digollado between his two sons; then two colonels and the officers composing General Bercozabal's staff.

The prisoners advanced with a firm step toward the President, who on their approach, hastened from his chair and walked a few steps toward them, with a smile on his lips.

"Caballeros," he said to them with a graceful bow, "I regret that the circumstances in which we are now unfortunately placed do not permit me at once to restore you to liberty, but at any rate I will try, by all the means in my power, to render you comfortable during a captivity which, I hope, will not last long. Be good enough first to receive back the swords which you wield so bravely, and of which I regret having deprived you."

He made a sign to General Cobos, who hastened to restore to the prisoners the arms which he had taken from them, and which they received with a movement of joy.

"Now, Caballeros," the President continued, "deign to accept the hospitality which I offer you in this palace, where you will be treated with all the respect that your misfortune deserves. I only ask your word as soldiers and caballeros not to leave it without my permission. Not that I doubt your honour, but in order to protect you from the attacks of people ill disposed toward you, and rendered savage by the sufferings of a long war: you are, therefore, prisoners on parole, caballeros, and at liberty to act as you please."

"General," Bercozabal answered in the name of all, "we thank you sincerely for your courtesy, we could not expect less from your well-known generosity. We give you our word, and will only employ the liberty you grant us within the limits you may think proper, promising you to make no attempt to regain our liberty, until you have freed us from our parole."

After a few more compliments had been exchanged between the President and the two generals, the prisoners withdrew to the apartments assigned to them. At the moment when Miramón was preparing to return to his cabinet, the adventurer quickly checked him, and pointed to a general officer, who was apparently trying to escape notice.

"Do you know that man?" he said to him in a low and trembling voice.

"Of course I know him," the President answered, "he only joined me a few days ago, and he has already rendered me eminent services: he is a Spaniard, and his name is Don Antonio Cacerbas."

"Ah! I know his name," said the adventurer, "for I have known him a long time unfortunately: General, that man is a traitor!"

"Nonsense, you are jesting."

"I repeat, General, that man is a traitor: I am sure of it," he said forcibly.

"I beg you not to press the point, my friend," the General quickly interrupted him; "it would be painful to me; good night, come tomorrow: I wish to talk with you about important matters."

And after nodding kindly to him, the President returned to his cabinet, the door of which was closed upon him. The adventurer stood for a moment motionless, painfully affected by the President's incredulity.

"Oh!" he muttered sadly, "Those whom God wishes to destroy, he blinds! Alas! All is now over, this man is hopelessly condemned, his cause is lost."

He left the palace full of the most sinister anticipations.

CHAPTER XXXII
EL PALO QUEMADO

The adventurer as we said, left the palace, the Plaza Mayor was deserted, the popular effervescence had calmed down as rapidly as it had risen: by the entreaties of certain influential persons, the troops had returned to their quarters: the leperos and other citizens equally respectable, who formed the majority of the insurgent mob, seeing that decidedly there was nothing to be done, and that the victims whom they coveted were effectually escaping from them, after a few cries and yells raised as a consolation, dispersed in their turn, and returned to the more or less ill-famed dens, always open in the low quarters of the city, and where they were sure of finding a shelter.

Lopez alone remained firm at his post. The adventurer had ordered him to wait for him at the palace gate, and he did so. Still, as the night was dark, and the most profound obscurity had succeeded the radiant illumination of the evening, he waited with his hand on his weapons, with ears and eyes on the watch, lest, in spite of the vicinity of the palace, he might be surprised and robbed by some night prowler, who would not have been sorry of the windfall if the peon had not thus kept good guard. When Lopez saw the palace gate opened, he understood that it could only be his master who thus came out alone, and he went up to him.

"Anything new?" the adventurer asked, as he put his foot in the stirrup.

"Not much," he answered.

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty well; still, now that I reflect, I fancy I just now saw someone I know leaving the palace."

"Ah! Was it long ago?"

"No, a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes at the most; but I am afraid I was mistaken, for he wore a costume so different from that in which I knew him, and then I had but such a slight opportunity of looking at him."

"Well! Whom did you fancy you recognised?"

"You will not believe me if I tell you it was Don Antonio de Cacerbas, my old patient."

"On the contrary, for I also saw him in the palace."

"¡Ah demonio! In that case I regret that I did not listen to his conversation."

"What conversation – when, with whom? Speak or choke: come, will you explain yourself?"

"I will do so, mi amo: when he left the palace there were still some groups on the plaza; a man quitted one of these groups and approached Don Antonio."

"Did you recognise the man?"

"Well, no, for he had a broad brimmed Vienna hat pulled down over his eyes, was wrapped up to the nose in a large cloak, and moreover, it was not much lighter than at this moment."

"Come to facts," the adventurer exclaimed impatiently.

"These two men began conversing in a low voice."

"And did you hear nothing?"

"No, only a few unconnected words, that was all."

"Repeat them, at any rate."

"Willingly: 'So he was there,' one of them said. I did not hear the other's answer. 'Bah! He would not dare,' the first continued: then they talked so low that I could not hear anything; the first said presently, 'We must go:' 'It is very late,' the other objected. I only heard the two words – Palo Quemado: then, after exchanging a few whispered words, they separated; the first at once disappeared under the portales: as for Don Antonio, he turned to the right as if intending to go to the Paseo de Bucareli; but he will have stopped at some house, for it is not probable that at such an hour he should dream of walking alone at a place of that description."

"That we will very soon find out," the adventurer remarked as he mounted; "give me my reins and follow me: the horses are not tired?"

"No, they are quite fresh," Lopez said, as he handed the adventurer a double-barrelled gun, a brace of revolvers, and a machete; "by your orders I went to the corral, where I left our tired horses, I saddled Mono and Zopiloto, now here, and returned to wait for you."

"You have done well – let us be off."

They rode away, crossed the deserted square, and after a few turnings, made doubtless with the intention of throwing out any spies who might be watching their movements, they at length went in the direction of Bucareli. In Mexico, after nightfall it is forbidden for anyone to ride along the streets, unless he holds a special permission very difficult to obtain; the adventurer, however, seemed to trouble himself very slightly about this prohibition, and indeed his boldness was perfectly justified by the apparent indifference of the celadores, a good number of whom they met on their passage, and who allowed them to gallop as they pleased, without venturing the slightest protest.

When the two riders found themselves sufficiently distant from the palace no longer to fear pursuit, each drew a black half mask from his pocket, and put it on his face; this precaution taken against any idlers who might recognise them in spite of the darkness, they resumed their ride. They soon reached the entrance of the Paseo de Bucareli; the adventurer stopped, and after striving to sound the gloom with a piercing glance, he gave a shrill and prolonged whistle. At once a shadow emerged from a gateway, where it was perfectly concealed, and advanced into the middle of the road; on reaching it, this shadow, or this man halted, and waited without saying a word.

"Has anyone passed here during the last three-quarters of an hour?" the adventurer said.

"Yes, and no," the stranger answered laconically.

"Explain yourself."

"A man came, stopped before the house there on your right, and rapped his hands twice; at the end of a moment a door opened, a peon came out leading a horse by the bridle, and holding a cloak lined with red under his arm."

"How did you see that on this dark night?"

"The peon carried a lanthorn; the man to whom I allude reproached him for his imprudence, smashed the lanthorn under his heel, and then threw the cloak over his shoulders."

"What dress did this man wear?"

"That of a cavalry general officer."

"Well, what next?"

"He handed his plumed hat to the peon; the latter entered the house, from which he came out a moment after with a Vienna hat, pistols, and a gun; he put spurs on the officer, who seized the weapons, mounted his horse, and departed."

"In what direction?"

"That of the Plaza Mayor."

"And the peon?"

"Re-entered the house."

"You are sure you were not seen by either?"

"Quite."

"That will do: watch – good bye."

"Adieu!" and he returned to his dark post.

The adventurer and his peon turned round; they soon found themselves again on the Plaza Mayor, but crossed it without stopping. Don Jaime seemed to know what directions he should follow, for he galloped without hesitation through the streets; he soon reached the garita of San Antonio, which he passed without stopping: some market gardeners were already beginning to enter the city. On arriving about six hundred paces from the garita, at a spot forming a square, the centre of which is occupied by a stone cross, and from which six wide but badly kept roads radiate, the adventurer halted again, and as on the first occasion, gave a shrill whistle. At the same instant, a man lying at the foot of the cross, rose and stood motionless before him.

"A man has passed here," Don Jaime said, "mounted on a skewbald horse, and wearing a hat with a gold golilla?"

"The man has passed," the stranger answered.

"How long ago?"

"An hour."

"Was he alone?"

"Yes."

"Which direction did he take?"

"That," the stranger answered, stretching out his arm toward the second road on the left.

"That will do."

"Shall I follow?"

"Where is your horse?"

"In a corral near the garita."

"It is too far, I have no time to wait; farewell, watch."

"I will watch."

And he lay down again at the foot of the cross.

The two horsemen resumed their journey.

"He is really going to the Palo Quemado," the adventurer muttered; "we shall find him there."

"That is probable," Lopez said with the utmost coolness.

"It is strange that I did not guess that sooner, for it is easy enough."

They galloped for about an hour without exchanging a syllable; at length they perceived a short distance from them a dark mass, whose black outline stood out from the less dense obscurity of the surrounding country.

"Here is the Palo Quemado," Don Jaime said.

"Yes," was all that Lopez answered.

They advanced a few paces, and then stopped. All at once a dog began barking furiously.

"¡Demonio!" Don Jaime exclaimed; "We must pass, or that accursed animal will betray us."

They spurred their horses, and darted past at full speed. At the end of a few minutes the dog, whose barking had changed into hoarse growls, was quite silent. The horsemen stopped, and Don Jaime dismounted.

"Hide the horses somewhere in the vicinity," he said, "and wait for me."

Lopez made no answer, the worthy man was not given to talking, and did not care to lavish his words unnecessarily. The adventurer, after inspecting his weapons with the great care so as to be sure, in the probable event of his being obliged to use them, that they would not fail him, lay down on the ground like an Indian of the Savannahs, and by an undulating, slow, and almost insensible movement, approached the rancho of the Palo Quemado.

When he was only a short distance from the rancho he saw what he had not noticed before, that some ten or a dozen horses were tied up in front of the house, and that several men were lying on the ground asleep near them. An individual, armed with a long lance, was standing motionless before the door, a sentinel, doubtless, posted there to watch over the general safety.

The adventurer stopped, the situation was a difficult one; the individuals, whoever they might be assembled in the rancho, had neglected no precautions in the event of an attempt being made to surprise them. Still, the greater the difficulties appeared, the more did the adventurer comprehend the importance of the secret he wished to surprise; hence, his hesitation was short, and he resolved, however great the risks he might run, to learn to learn who were the members of this clandestine meeting, and for what motive they were assembled. The reader is sufficiently acquainted with the adventurer, whom we have introduced to him under so many names, to guess that now his resolution was formed to push on, he would not hesitate to do so.

This was really what happened: he merely redoubled his prudence and precautions, advancing inch by inch as it were, and crawling along the ground with the silent elasticity of a reptile. Instead of proceeding directly to the rancho he went round it, in order to assure himself that, with the exception of the sentry at the door, he had no fear of being discovered by any watchman concealed at the rear of the building. As the adventurer had foreseen, the rancho was only guarded in front. He rose and examined the neighbourhood as far as the darkness permitted it. A rather large corral, enclosed by a quickset hedge, joined the house: this corral appeared deserted. Don Jaime sought an opening through which he could step into the interior; after groping for a few minutes he discovered one wide enough to admit his passing. He went in.

Now the difficulties were slighter to approach the house; by the hedge he in a few instants almost reached the wall. What astonished him was not having been scented and tracked by the dog which had previously announced his approach so noisily.

This is what had happened: disturbed by the barking of the dog, and fearing lest it should reveal by its noise their suspicious presence to the Indians, who at this hour were proceeding to the city for the purpose of selling their wares, the strangers collected in the rancho, trusting in their sentinel to watch over their safety, ordered the ranchero to call the animal into the house, and chain it sufficiently far away that its barking might not be heard outside should it set off again.

This excessive prudence on the part of the temporary guests of the rancho permitted the adventurer to approach, not only without being discovered, but also without arousing suspicions. Although he was ignorant of this fact, Don Jaime profited by it, thanking Providence in his heart for freeing him from so troublesome a watcher. While attentively examining the wall along which he was moving, he came to a door, which, by some inconceivable negligence, had been left ajar, and yielded to the slight push he gave it. This door opened on a very dark passage, but a slight ray of light which filtered through the badly-joined crack of a door revealed to Don Jaime the spot where, in all probability, the strangers were assembled.

The adventurer stealthily approached, placed his eye to the crevice, and looked. Three men, folded in thick cloaks, were seated round a table covered with bottles and glasses, in a rather large room, as far as might be judged, and only lighted by one candle placed on a corner of the table. An animated conversation was going on between the three guests, who smoked, drank, and talked like men who feel sure of not being overheard, and, consequently, of having nothing to fear. These three men the adventurer at once recognized: the first was Don Felipe Neri Irzabal, the guerillero colonel, the second, Don Melchior de la Cruz, and the third, Don Antonio de Cacerbas.

"At last," the adventurer muttered, with a quiver of joy, "I am about to know everything."

And he listened attentively. Don Felipe, who was speaking, seemed to be in an advanced state of intoxication; still, though his speech was thick, he did not wander as yet, but, like all half-drunken people, he was beginning to stray into abstruse arguments, and seemed to be supporting with indomitable doggedness a condition which he wished to impose on his two hearers, and to which they would not consent.

"No," he repeated, incessantly, "it is useless to press me, señores, I will not give you the letter you ask of me. I am an honest man, and have only one word, voto a licos!" and at each sentence he struck the table with his fist.

"But," Don Melchior remarked, "if you insist on keeping this letter, though you have orders to deliver it to us, it will be impossible for us to carry out the mission with which we are entrusted."

"What credit," Don Antonio added, "will be given us by the persons with whom we wish to come to an understanding, if we have nothing to prove to them that we are duly authorized to do so?"

"That does not concern me – each for himself in this world. I am an honest man, and must guard my interests as you do yours."

"What you are saying is absurd," Don Antonio exclaimed, impatiently; "we risk our heads in this affair."

"Possibly, my dear sir; everybody does as he pleases. I am an honest man, I go straight before me. You will not have the letter unless you give me what I ask; give and give, that is all I know. Why did you not warn the General of today's affair, in accordance with your agreement with him?"

"We have proved to you that it was impossible, as the sortie was unexpectedly resolved on."

"Good, that! You will settle as you can with the General-in-Chief – I wash my hands of it."

"Enough of this nonsense," Don Antonio said, drily; "will you, or will you not, deliver to this caballero or myself the letter which the President intrusted to you for us?"

"No," Don Felipe answered, bluntly, "unless you give me an order for ten thousand piastres. It is really giving it away, but I am an honest man."

"Hum!" the adventurer muttered to himself, "An autograph of Señor Benito Juárez is really precious. I would not bargain if he offered it to me."

"But," Don Melchior exclaimed, "you will commit a scandalous robbery in acting thus."

"Well, what then?" Don Felipe said, cynically. "I rob, you betray, we are well matched, that is all."

At this insult, so brutally hurled in their teeth, the two men rose.

"Let us go," said Don Melchior, "this man is a brute, who will listen to nothing."

"The most simple plan is to go to the General-in-Chief," Don Antonio added, "he will do us justice, and avenge us on this wretched drunkard."

"Go! Go, my dear sirs," the guerillero said, with a grin, "and luck go with you! I keep the letter – perhaps I shall find a purchaser. I am an honest man."

At this menace the two men exchanged a glance, while laying their hands on their weapons, but after a hesitation, no longer than a lightning flash, they disdainfully left the room. A few minutes after the rapid gallop of several horses could be heard outside.

"They are gone," the guerillero muttered, as he poured out a tumbler of mezcal, which he swallowed at a draught: "they are decamping, on my word, as if the fiend were carrying them off! They are furious. Stuff! I don't care, I have kept the letter."

While speaking thus to himself, the guerillero replaced his tumbler on the table. Suddenly he started; a man wrapped up to the eyes in the folds of a thick cloak was standing in front of him. This man held in either hand a revolver, the barrels of which were pointed at the guerillero's chest. The latter gave a sudden start of terror at this sight, which he was far from expecting.

"Hilloah!" he exclaimed, in a voice which trembled from emotion and terror, "Who is this demon, and what does he want? Why, hang it! I have fallen into a wasp's nest."

Terror had sobered him; he tried to rise and fly.

"One word, one gesture," the stranger said, in a hollow, menacing voice, "and I blow out your brains." The guerillero fell heavily back on the stool he had been sitting on.