Майн Рид
The Bandolero: or, A Marriage among the Mountains

Chapter Thirty Six.
The Bandits at Bay

I went not without a guide, else I might have climbed Ixticihuatl in vain.

The stage-driver still acted in this capacity. By good fortune he had made the ascent before – on some speculative expedition during a recess, when the ribbons were out of his hands; and he knew of a second “robbers’ nest” still higher up than that chosen as the scene of the nuptials.

It was a lone log hut, the residence of a reputed charcoal burner; but the situation was too high to be convenient for charcoal burning; and, in Sam Brown’s opinion, the “carbonero” was in reality a bandolero.

There was just a chance we might find Carrasco at this hut; if not, somewhere else among the mountains.

How different were the feelings with which I now prosecuted the search. No longer indifferent about the escape of the robbers, I was determined on tracking them up, if I should have to traverse every defile in the Cordillera, or climb to the summit of Popocatepec!

Like a second Ordaz, I could have plunged into its fiery crater to rescue the captive, who but a short hour before might have leaped into it, without my stretching forth a hand to restrain her!

It was all changed now. The wound, that had been bleeding for six long months, had become suddenly cicatrised. A load seemed lifted from my heart.

I felt light and lithe as I sprang up the acclivity. No Alpine climber could have equalled me in energy: for never went one with such a purpose to stimulate his strength. It were a trite triumph to scale the summit of the Matterhorn, compared with that of rescuing Mercedes Villa-Señor!

The path was not only difficult, but perilous. It would have been so in the day. At night both the danger and difficulty were doubled. It was all up hill – steep as the side of a cairn, and with footing not much surer. The surface was corrugated with lava runs, that had been liquid some centuries before – now congealed into scoriae that resembled the slag cast forth from a furnace.

It was not treeless; but sparsely covered with cactus, grass-like tufts of zamia, and stunted fir-trees. Here and there were patches bare and coal-black – as if the lava had but recently cooled, after being vomited forth from the volcan above.

Two things greatly delayed us: the darkness, and the necessity of making a noiseless advance. The slightest sound – a word spoken aloud – might frustrate the purpose of our pursuit.

I had given strict orders for no one to speak – even in whispers. In these alone the guide conversed, as he gave his directions. We knew that our voices would be carried upward to the ears of the brigands, while there was not much likelihood of our hearing theirs.

That they were above us we had little doubt; though we neither heard nor saw them. We were assured by the nature of the ground. The path carried us along the combing of a ridge – on either side flanked by a stupendous precipice. It was but the continuation of the twin cliffs that hemmed in the hacienda below. We saw no side track, that the robbers could have taken. We were certain we had them before us.

Our search promised fair for success. The robbers could have no suspicion that they were being followed – least of all by a score of American riflemen. The only enemy they might deem near had been left helpless below.

Silently we toiled on, stepping as lightly as possible over the loose lava.

At intervals we stopped to listen. We fancied we could hear footsteps and the murmuring of men. We were not sure about either. The torrent tearing along the bottom of the “barranca” sent its “sough” into our ears – filling them to the exclusion of almost every other sound.

Still the ravishers could not be far ahead of us. Not suspecting pursuit, they would have no motive for moving in a hurry; though Carrasco might have one – Mercedes!

The horrid thought chilled the blood within my veins, causing me to stride on with nervous impatience.

Though the place we were making for was scarce a mile from that we had left, nearly two hours elapsed before we came in sight of it.

We did so at length.

What we saw was a rude parallelopipedon projected in dark silhouette against the moonlit sky. It was a cabin constructed of hewn tree trunks; very similar to that of the “States,” only with a flat terraced roof instead of the slanting cover of “clap-boards.”

It stood upon the very edge of the abyss, its back being flush with the escarpment of the cliff! Only one aperture appeared on the side towards us – a narrow doorway, with a door upon it; which, as we came within sight, appeared to be shut.

Presently it was opened from the inside – letting out a stream of light that scattered over the cleared track in front. On this we could distinguish the figures of several men, hitherto unseen under the shadow of the walls. The logs were in juxta-position, as if carefully “chinked” to keep out the cold: for the dwelling was situated on the extreme limits of the tierra fria.

While the door remained open we could see a number of men moving inside, and in their midst the loosely dressed form of a woman. A white scarf floated among the darker drapery of cloaks and jaquetas.

The robbers appeared to have just arrived. We knew they could not have been there long. Those inside the hut were hurrying to and fro – some carrying torches that appeared recently ignited.

The party without had commenced kindling a fire, that soon blazed up, throwing its red glare athwart the grey pine-trees; a grove of which growing near the edge of the cliff flung its sable shadow over the dwelling.

The bivouackers were the inferior men of the band; for whom there was no accommodation inside.

We could bear voices, both inside and out; but the harsh hissing of the cascade, both above and below, hindered us from making anything of what was said.

We needed no words to give us an explanation of what we saw. It was intelligible without this. We had tracked the bandits to their den. They were in it – their victims along with them!

For the first time since starting on the uphill pursuit, we felt puzzled as to how we should act. My own impulses prompted me to spring forward, and bring the affair to an instant termination.

As far as regarded victory or defeat, I had no fear about the issue. Although Carrasco’s party and ours were nearly equal in numbers, I knew that in real strength – as in courage and equipment – we were as two to their one.

But even reversing the order, my men would not have shied from the contest; not if the enemy had been ten to our one.

For myself – with the motive I had, to move, and madden me, – odds never entered my thoughts.

As it was, we simply considered ourselves in the presence of vermin, that we could crush beneath the heels of our boots.

With such feeling of contempt for our antagonists, the impulse was to set upon them at once. My men only waited for the word.

I was prevented from giving it by a reflection. In destroying the vermin the game might be injured along with it? Mercedes and her sister – I thought only of Mercedes – might be wounded, perhaps killed in the conflict?

This fear was sufficient to restrain us. My comrades intuitively shared it with me; and I had no difficulty in keeping them in check.

For some time we stayed, crouching behind the trees, where we had first come within sight of the cabin.

Who could say what was best to be done? This was the inquiry that passed mechanically among us.

The sergeant had conceived an idea. He was an old veteran of the Texan wars – had served in the campaigns of Houston – and obtained a thorough knowledge of the Mexican character.

“Best way, capten,” said he, whispering close to my ear, “would be to besiege ’em, and make ’em come to tarms.”

“How?”

“Surround the place. It’s half surrounded already. We’ve only got to ‘filade’ the other half, and they’ll be complete caged.”

There was sense in the sergeant’s suggestion. I should at once have acceded to it, but for the thought – I need not say what. Time was the enemy I most dreaded. Just then an hour seemed eternity!

“No,” I rejoined, “we must attack them at once. If we leave them undisturbed till the morning, then our pursuit would be to no purpose. These ladies – ”

“I kin understan you, capten. I didn’t mean to leave it till the mornin’. Let’s pounce upon ’em now – them that’s outside yonder! Lick that lot up first, and then summon the others to surrender. Seein’ their comrades taken, and theirselves surrounded – with ne’er a chance of escapin’ – they’ll be only too glad to give up the weemen – ay, without rufflin’ a hair o’ their heads. Besides,” continued he, pointing to the summit of Ixticihuatl, seen distinctly from the spot, “talkin’ o’ mornin’, look yonder, capten!”

I directed my glance upwards. A roseate tint appeared upon the snow. It was the first kiss of the Aurora. Though still night where we lay, there were signs of morn upon the summit of the mountain. In less than twenty minutes there would be daylight around us!

The thought decided me to act according to the suggestion of the sergeant.

My commands, imparted in a low tone to the comrades that crouched behind me, were followed by a quick rush across the open ground, and the almost instantaneous capture of the fellows around the fire.

It might have been done without alarming their comrades inside, but for one of them discharging his carbine as we came up.

For him it proved an imprudent act. It was the last shot he ever fired. It hurt no one; but he himself dropped dead the instant after, riddled by the bullets of our revolvers.

The rest surrendered without further show of fight; and in a minute more were our prisoners.

The shots, of course, carried the surprise inside; but instead of the door being thrown open, we saw that it was quickly barricaded!

We discovered this on attempting to force it open, and also that it had been contrived with an eye to such contingency!

While occupied in front of it we were saluted with a volley from above; while the besieged brigands were seen over the parapet of the azotea.

Before we could answer the fire, their heads were “ducked;” and we were compelled to stand with guns undischarged, or send our shots idly into the air.

I felt that we were foiled. My comrades shared the thought. A rifleman lay, wounded, among our feet. A second had dropped upon his knees; while three or four others had been scathed by scattering shots.

We stood in a position completely exposed. To hack down the door would take time. Before it could be done, we might look for a second discharge from the housetop, with an uneven chance of returning it: for we now saw that the parapet was crenelled; rudely, it is true, but sufficient for the protection of its defenders.

We felt loth to retreat. There seemed a chance to shelter ourselves close to the wall; and some, yielding to instinct, had done so. But several heavy blocks of stone were hurled down from above – proving the position untenable.

There was no help for it but retreat to the cover of the trees; and this we did, taking our crippled comrades along with us.

We had lost but little time. The interval of indecision occupied only a few seconds; and, before the bandits had got their carbines ready for a fresh fusilade, we were safely sheltered against such “sharpshooters” as they.

Chapter Thirty Seven.
A Scoundrel Safely Screened

Though for the time disconcerted, we had no thought of retreating. The unsuccessful assault but rendered my men more determined – besides still further embittering them against the despised foe.

Fortunately the wounds received by their comrades were not mortal, though it needed not this to provoke their vengeance. The situation of the two captives – now thoroughly comprehended by every one – was sufficient to check all thoughts of retiring from the strife – even had the enemy far outnumbered us.

As it was, we still believed that we had them in the trap, and it was only a question of time and strategy to bring the affair to a termination.

By withdrawing to the trees we had obtained a more advantageous position. It gave us a better chance of aiming at any object on the azotea; and as the sky was each instant becoming clearer, we could distinguish the loopholes along the parapet.

They were but rude holes – the ragged interstices between the logs – but good enough for the purpose for which they had evidently been left in the fabrication of the dwelling.

We expected to see faces behind them, or something we might fire at. We saw nothing – not so much as a hand!

The brigands had by this time discovered who were their assailants, and no doubt knew something of the skill of the American rifleman. Mistrusting it, they were keeping close – not even daring to look through the loopholes.

They were not far astray in their tactics – if such they were. Not a clear spot on the parapet that was not watched with eager eyes, and fingers ready to press upon the trigger.

For full five minutes did the inaction continue – five minutes that seemed fifty!

To me the delay was intolerable as some slow subtle torture. I was scheming how to put an end to it, when, to my astonishment, I saw a form rising above the parapet. It was that of a tall man, whose dark silhouette became outlined against the lighter background of the sky.

At a glance I recognised Carrasco!

I can scarcely tell what restrained me from sending a bullet through his body. Perhaps surprise at the unexpected apparition?

And my followers seemed to be influenced by a like feeling; since, along their whole line, not a trigger was touched!

The robber-chief must have calculated upon something of the kind, else he would not have so audaciously exposed himself.

He had also made a nice reckoning of the limits to which our surprise could be trusted. The time was short enough; but before we had recovered from it, we saw a white curtain drawn hastily before him, that concealed from our sight more than half of his person!

“A flag of truce!” thought we, as we lowered the muzzles of our guns.

In another instant we were undeceived – so far as to its being a flag. It was the white drapery of a woman’s dress – with a woman inside it! Despite the ambiguous light of the struggling dawn, I could see who the woman was.

Her appearance – quick and instantaneous – was evidently an act of compulsion – as if Carrasco had forced her into the position. I fancied I had seen his arm outstretched, as he hastily drew her in front of him.

Our rifles were instantly dropped to the “trail,” and my comrades uttered a simultaneous cry of “Shame!”

It was enough to challenge their indignation. A young and beautiful woman thus basely used for the shielding of a bandit’s body!

Many of them shivered at the thought of the murder they had been so near committing.

I experienced an emotion peculiar to myself – unknown to them – more painful than that they had been called upon to feel! since I knew the white shield to be Mercedes!

There was now enough of light to enable me to distinguish her features. It needed not this. The undulating outlines of her head, neck, and shoulders, like a cameo cut against the sky – were easily identified.

It was an image too firmly fixed in my memory, and too deeply engraven upon my heart, to be ever more mistaken.

I had just time to see that her dress was torn, her hair tossed, and hanging like a cloud about her shoulders – just time to note that she looked wan and woe-stricken – when the voice of Carrasco, rising above the sibillation of the torrent, summoned us to a parley.

“Caballeros!” he cried out, “in the darkness I have no chance to know who you are; but, from your mode of making approach, I take it you are our enemies. Furthermore, from the fact of your being armed with rifles, you should be Americanos! Am I right?”

I had not sufficiently recovered coolness to make reply. My eyes, my thoughts, were still fixed upon Mercedes.

“What else should we be?” answered the stage-driver by my side, “That same we air, an’ no mistake about it.”

“Why have you come here?”

“To capter the cussdest cut-throat in all Mexiko: for that same ye air, Mister Capting Carrasco.”

“Hola, amigo! You’ve made a mistake this time? You appear to take me for the noted Carrasco; and my people, no doubt, for a cuadrilla of salteadores? We’re nothing of the sort, I assure you. Only a band of honest patriotas; who, loving our country, have continued to fight for it – as you know, after our grand army has seen fit to forsake the field. Por Dios; señores Americanos! You’re not the men to blame us for that? Just now we acknowledge ourselves vanquished; though still only besieged. But as we have no supplies in our castle here – you will give me credit for some candour in confessing it? – moreover, as we believe it hopeless to hold out against you, we have made up our minds to capitulate. All we ask for ourselves is an honourable cartel of surrender.”

Surrender! The word fell sweet upon my ears – and for a particular reason. It promised safety for Mercedes.

“Come then, caballeros!” pursued the robber-chief; “state your terms; and let me entreat you not to be too exacting!”

For some seconds I refrained from making reply – partly astounded by the audacity of the robber – partly considering the answer that should be returned to him.

Had it been any other man I might have talked about terms. But it was the wretch Carrasco; and just then I remembered the deception practised upon me in Puebla. I thought of Francisco Moreno lying on his death-bed below, and of my artist friend, who, in all probability, had fallen by the same hand.

With the remembrance there sprang up in my mind, not only suspicion, but a fresh feeling of revenge; and by these, not prudence, was my answer inspired.

“Terms!” I shouted back, in a tone of undisguised scornfulness; “We make no terms with such as you. Surrender; and then trust to such mercy as may be shown you!”

“Mil demonios!” screamed the bandit, now for the first time recognising me. “Carajo! you, it is! You, my saintly friend, whose devotions I had the pleasure of witnessing, and the pain of disturbing, in the Cathedral of La Puebla! May I ask why I am honoured by this early call – in a mansion so remote from the ordinary walks of life?”

“Come, Captain Carrasco,” I replied, “if such be your title. I don’t intend to lose time in talking to you. I call upon you to surrender, and at once!”

“And suppose I don’t choose to take it in that way, what then?”

“You need expect no mercy.”

“From you, caballero, I have no idea of asking it?”

“You have need, then, unless you desire to die. You have no chance of escape – not the slightest. I tell it you in all seriousness, and without thought of triumph. My men are stationed, so as to command every path that leads from the place. They are all armed with rifles and revolvers.”

“Listen to reason!” I went on almost entreatingly, having now become convinced of the mistake I had made, in doing what might drive the brigand to desperation. “Give up your captives, and I promise to spare the lives both of yourself and your comrades.”

“Ay, Dios! how generous you are! Ha! Ha! Ha! Is that all you can promise, noble captain?”

“No – not all,” I answered, stung by the taunting speech. “Something more. If you reject the terms offered, I promise that in ten minutes from this time your soul will be in eternity, and your body hanging from the branch of yonder tree!”

I pointed to one of the pines that stood conspicuous on the cliff.

“What, so soon?” was the cool rejoinder. “It will take you more than ten minutes to force an entrance into this citadel of ours. Don’t mistake it for a jacalé. Though our fortress be of wood, it is stronger than you suppose, señor captain.”

“We can set fire to it!”

“Ah! you won’t do that. I’ve no fear of being burnt up, or smoked out, so long as I am in such goodly company.”

The sneer with which the speech was accompanied goaded me to frantic rage – at the same time that it made me feel my impotence to carry out the threat I had so boastingly pronounced.

“We shall not need to set the house on fire,” was my reply; “we shall get at you without that. My men are provided with axes. They are backwoodsmen, and know how to use them. It won’t take us ten minutes to break open your door.”

“Open it!” interrupted the robber, “and one half of you will never live to stride across the threshold. Those who do, will be witnesses to a scene which I know, noble captain, you won’t love to look upon.”

“What scene?” I involuntarily asked, as a horrid fancy flashed across my brain.

“A woman – a beautiful woman – with a poignard in her breast! By the Holy Virgin, you shall see that!”

I felt as if a dagger had been plunged into my own. I knew it was no idle vaunt. There was a terrible firmness in the tone of the brigand’s voice that told of his being in earnest.

“Let me take a shot at him,” whispered the sergeant by my side. “I think I can fetch him ’ithout touchin’ the gurl.”

“No – no!” I hastily answered, “Leave it to me. For your life, don’t fire – not yet!”

I stood trembling – uncertain what course to pursue. I had my own rifle in hand, and was considering whether I should not risk taking a shot at the ruffian. Under other circumstances I should have been confident enough of making a sure one; but just then I felt my nerves shaking through the throes of my excited heart. It was a terrible crisis. The sinews of Tell could not have been more severely tried, as he adjusted his arrow to the string.

The bandit seemed thoroughly to comprehend my hesitation.

There was something fiendishly exultant in the laugh with which he followed up his last speech.

“Now, señor Yankee!” he went on, without waiting for a reply. “I hope you are ready to accede to my request. If so, state your terms for our release; and remember! make them easy, or it will be impossible for us to accept them. I don’t wish to hurry you. As it’s a matter of some importance to both of us, and to her as well,” – I could see him nod towards Mercedes – “I beg you will take time to consider. Meanwhile, we shall retire, and patiently await your answer.”

Saying this, he receded from the parapet – as I supposed, still staying on the azotea.

The white shield was drawn back along with him: and once more Mercedes was out of sight – leaving me to fell fancies, more torturing than the sting of the tarantula.