The Queen of the Savannah: A Story of the Mexican War

"Hilloh!" the adventurer said in surprise.

"Why bring me food, instead of opening the doors and letting me be off?"

"It is not a holiday every day," the gaoler answered mockingly. "The door does not open so easily as that. Besides, what have you to complain of? It seems as if you like being in prison, as you had an opportunity to leave it, and did not take advantage of it."

Clary shrugged his shoulders, and turned away, thinking it beneath him to argue with a scoundrel of this sort. The other grinned, placed the provisions on the ground, went out, carefully locked the door, and the Canadian found himself again alone.

"Hang it all," he muttered, "the affair is beginning to look ugly. Well! We shall see; but now to eat, for it is bad arguing on an empty stomach."

And after this consoling reflection, he began attacking the provisions, deferring the formation of any resolution till after the meal. But time was not allowed him for this. He had scarce finished the last mouthful ere he heard the sound of footsteps and the clang of arms in the passage. The door opened, and an officer entered.

"Follow me!" he said.

"Where are you taking me?" the Canadian asked.

"Come, come," the officer said sharply, "you will soon learn."

"Very good," he said, and walked out.

An escort consisting of ten soldiers was waiting for him at the door.

"Hang it," he said, "I appear to be treated like a man of importance."

And, without waiting for orders, he placed himself in the midst of the soldiers, who at once closed up round him. He was led to the room into which he had been introduced the previous day. The general was there alone. The officer, after thrusting the Canadian into the room, withdrew, and closed the door after him. The adventurer went two or three paces forward, bowed respectfully to the general, and waited till the latter addressed him. The general was in full dress; he had his hat on his head; his arms were crossed on his back, and he was walking up and down the room with hanging head and a dark frown.

"Hum! This worthy officer does not seem in a very sweet temper this morning," the Canadian thought. "Rude though he was, I liked him better yesterday afternoon."

After some moments of silence, the general walked up to the adventurer, and stopped before him with a menacing look.

"Ah, ah," he said, "then you are here, Señor Pícaro?"

Instead of answering, the Canadian looked around him in surprise.

"What are you looking for?" the general asked him sharply.

"I am looking, Excellency," he replied placidly, "for the person to whom you are addressing that language."

"Ah, ah," he replied, "you are facetious. We shall soon see how long you keep up that part."

"Excellency," the adventurer said seriously, "I am playing no part. I will have the honour of observing to you that the man who, holding the power in his hands, amuses himself like a cat with a mouse, as you are doing with me, commits, no matter who he is, a bad action, for he knows that he is addressing a man who is unable to answer him."

The general resumed his hurried walk up and down the room, but almost immediately returned to the Canadian.

"Listen," he said to him sharply. "You produced a good impression on me when I first saw you. Your refusal to escape, when you had no other prospect but the gallows, proves to me that you are brave. I want men of your sort. Are you willing to serve me? You will have no cause to repent it."

The Canadian drew himself up.

"Is your Excellency," he asked, "really doing me the honour of speaking seriously to me?"

"Yes, and I am waiting for your answer."

"Well, Excellency, the answer is this: I did not escape yesterday, because only guilty persons do that, and I am not guilty. Placed arbitrarily and in a manner contrary to the law of nations in prison by you, during a moment of ill temper, I expect that justice will be done me, and that those who put me in a dungeon will take me out of it again. I enabled my comrade to escape, as I wished to prove to you that, had I liked, nothing would have been more easy than for me to go with him. You have told me that I am brave; it is true, and the reason is simple. I have nothing to lose, and consequently to regret; and, in my opinion, life is not so very jolly that we should be afraid of giving it up. You have offered to take me into your service. I refuse."

"Ah!" the general said, biting his lips.

"Yes, and for two reasons."

"Let me have them."

"You shall. The first is, that I have engaged myself for a certain time to your enemies, and when an honest man has once pledged his word, he cannot recall it. The second reason is perhaps more serious; still, I am bound to say that, were I free, I would not serve you, not through any personal dislike to your Excellency, but because the cause you defend is that of absolutism, and I am naturally a fanatic partizan of liberty."

"Very good, you are a philosopher. Do you know what the moral of all this is?"

"No, Excellency, I do not."

"That you will be hung directly."

"Do you think so?" the Canadian replied, taking a step forward.

"You will soon have the proof," the general said, with a grin.

And he walked up to a table to ring a hand bell, but before he could accomplish his design, the Canadian leapt on him like a tiger, hurled him to the ground, and ere the general, so suddenly attacked, had time to regain his coolness to call out or attempt to defend himself, he was securely bound and carefully gagged. With a presence of mind which he could only have obtained through the adventurous life he had hitherto led, the Canadian, so soon as he had secured his prisoner, ran to the door and bolted it, to avoid a surprise. Thus certain that he would not be disturbed for some time, the Canadian collected several bundles of papers scattered over the table, put them in his pocket, seized a brace of richly embossed pistols, carefully examined them, to see whether they were loaded, and thrust them in his belt. Then he returned to the general, who had anxiously watched all his movements.

"Now for us two, Excellency," he said, as he drew his knife and tried the point on his thumbnail, "pledge me your word of honour as a gentleman that you will not cry out, and I will at once remove your gag. Moreover, I may remind you that the door is locked, and before your soldiers or servants could break it open, I should have killed you. Well, what do you say to my proposition?"

The general nodded his compliance of the terms and, in accordance with his promise, the Canadian at once removed the gag. He did even more; raising him in his arms, he carried him to an easy chair, in which he seated him comfortably.

"There," he said, "now we can talk. You see, Excellency, that you were not mistaken about me, and that I am, to employ your own expression, a bold scoundrel."

"Yes," the general answered, with concentrated passion, "I let myself be caught like a fool. What do you demand of me, now that you have me in your power?"

"I demand nothing, Excellency. I merely desire my liberty."

The general reflected for a moment.

"No," he at length said, with a start of passion, "I will not give it you. Kill me, if you like, villain!"

"Very good. You are a brave fellow. No, Excellency, I will not kill you. I am no assassin. I merely wished to give you a simple lesson and teach you not to violate the law of nations. Now, I am going to cut your bonds."

"You will not dare do so," the general said bluntly.

"Why not?" the Canadian asked.

"Because you know very well that once I am free – "

"When you are free, Excellency, you will do what you think proper. I care little what, for did I not tell you that I did not cling to life?"

The general looked at him.

"Carry out your promise," he then said.

"Directly, Excellency."

With the utmost coolness the Canadian removed the bonds which he had so carefully rolled round the general's body.

"Ah!" said the latter, springing up like a tiger, "Now we shall see."

"Wait a moment, Excellency," the Canadian said tranquilly, "the door is not yet unbolted."

This mad and reckless rashness confounded the general; for the first time in his life, perhaps, this man felt his heart softened by a feeling which had hitherto been strange to him.

"Very good," he said, "open it."

The adventurer did not let the order be repeated, but drew the bolts with the same tranquil air which he had retained during the whole scene. The general rang.

"Have a horse saddled at once," he said to the usher who entered; then he added, turning to Clary, "Begone, without looking behind you. Make haste, before I recall the order I have given; for I shall probably soon repent my clemency."

"I think so, Excellency," the Canadian answered with a singular smile.

And, after bowing respectfully, he left the room. The general remained pensive for a moment.

"What a strange character," he muttered, and he fell back into an easy chair, in order to restore a little regularity in his ideas, which had been upset by these extraordinary events. All at once his eyes turned accidentally to the table.

"Oh," he exclaimed, rising furiously, "my papers."

But it was in vain that he gave orders to pursue the adventurer. The latter had followed the general's advice exactly, and, burying his spurs in his horse's flanks, had started at a gallop.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE WOUNDED MAN

However eccentric the means employed by the Canadian to regain his liberty may appear to the reader at the first blush, they had been carefully meditated. The adventurer had judged the man with whom he had to deal; he felt convinced that if he allowed him to give the order for hanging, it would not be revoked. The game he played in attacking the general was a bold one; but there are in the world many perverse beings with whom any reasoning is impossible, and with whom knockdown arguments must be employed. The adventurer calculated on the surprise, fear, and perhaps admiration of his enemy to secure his own escape. He was not deceived in his calculations, for a good deal of these three feelings was mixed up with the general's extraordinary clemency: and then too, possibly, after the specimen which Don López had had of the Canadian's resolution and reckless daring, he was not anxious to put him to a fresh trial, as he knew that he was armed, and convinced that he would blow out his brains without hesitation. For our part, we believe that the general was for an instant completely dominated by the ascendency which the Canadian's character exerted over him, and that he had acted solely under the influence of this feeling.

However this may be, Oliver Clary did not deceive himself for a moment, and spurred his horse, which galloped at headlong speed. After about an hour's ride, he thought that he had placed a sufficient distance between himself and any person who might feel tempted to pursue him, and he checked the pace of his steed, which was beginning to display signs of fatigue, and he did not wish to kill it unnecessarily. It was about ten a.m., and the day was magnificent. The Canadian, who had been imprisoned for nearly four and twenty hours, inhaled the fresh air and looked around him in delight, so happy did he feel at being free and seeing once again water and trees.

He rode along thus, careless and satisfied, laughing at the capital trick he had played the general, and glad to have got out of the scrape so well, when he suddenly perceived a small party of horsemen coming toward him at full speed. In the first moment, the Canadian felt a lively anxiety; but, upon reflection, he reassured himself by the fact that it was impossible these horsemen had been sent in pursuit of him, from the direction in which they were coming. He, therefore, continued to push on without checking or hurrying his steed, for fear of arousing in the minds of the newcomers suspicions which might be unfavourable to him, and, owing to their number, cause him an embarrassment which he desired to avoid at any price. But, after riding thus for some ten minutes, he uttered a cry of pleasure and galloped toward the newcomers. He had recognized in the two persons heading the party, Count de Melgosa and Diego López.

"Thank heaven!" the count exclaimed on seeing him, "I was afraid I should arrive too late."

"That would probably have been the case," the Canadian replied, "had I not managed to get out of the hobble by myself. But how is it that I meet you here?"

"Did I not promise to join you today at Leona?"

"Ah, now I understand,"

"No, you do not, for I had not intended to start till this evening, so as to avoid the great heat, had not Diego López arrived this morning at sunrise like a madman at the hacienda, telling everybody who could hear it that General Cárdenas put you in prison yesterday, with orders that you should be hung today. I now see that this ass of a Diego has let himself be taken in by falsehoods spread through the town for some motive I am ignorant of, and I am delighted at it, for I should never have consoled myself had you died."

"Señor Conde," the Canadian replied, as he affectionately pressed the peon's hand, "Diego López was not deceived by false reports. All he told you was most strictly true."

"Ah!" the count exclaimed, with a start of passion, "That man must really be a wild beast."

"Morally, I am prepared to swear he is," the Canadian replied, with an air of conviction.

"It surpasses all belief. Never was such contempt of the law of nations known. But how is it that I now find you at liberty, and, apparently at least, without the slightest wound?"

"That is another story," the adventurer said, with a meaning smile, "and one which is somewhat interesting, I assure you, count."

"Who delivered you?"

"Myself."

"Alone?"

"Indeed, yes. When I saw that no one came to my assistance, I tried to manage it by myself, and you see how I succeeded."

"Oh!" the count said, with an accent of painful conviction. "A cause defended by such men is a lost cause. Pray, caballero, tell me in their fullest details all the events that have occurred. I want to know them in order to see whether my honour permits me still to give the aid of my sword to a government which employs such savage measures."

"Señor Conde," the Canadian said frankly, "since you insist, I will tell you all, though I know that the story will grieve you. Still, before I begin, must say that, during all the time I have been ranging the desert, and the annals of an adventurous career have brought me into relations with the most ferocious Indian nations, I never found with one of them such a profound contempt for what all men respect. For that I had to become acquainted with a Spanish general."

"Señor," the count said sorrowfully, "do not render a whole nation responsible for the fault of an individual. Do not judge us incapable of generous feelings and recognizing virtue when it presents itself to us. Thank heaven! The Spanish people have established their reputation for honour and loyalty for centuries. There are, believe me, among other nations as well as ours, coldly ferocious beings insensible of all feeling of honour. These men belong to no nation. They are monsters whom humanity brands and rejects with horror from its bosom."

"I will not discuss so grave a matter with you, señor. I am but a poor man, ignorant of the laws of the world, and I do not at all intend to pass judgment on things which exceed the range of the weak intellect with which it has pleased nature to endow me. It is evident that men are all born with different instincts. Whether civilization modifies these instincts for better or worse I cannot say, any more than I would venture to assert that all the men of your nation are as thoroughly bad as the general, the more so as you are an evident proof of the contrary."

"A compliment is not an answer, señor. But do not let us dwell any longer on this painful subject, and return to the story you promised to tell me."

"I ask nothing better than to do so, caballero; but the narrative will occupy some time, and, for reasons you will speedily learn, I am not particularly anxious to remain so short a distance from Leona Vicario."

"Very good, señor," the count answered. "Tell me where you wish to go, and I will accompany you for some leagues with the greater pleasure at the thought that, in the event of your being pursued – which, I presume, is the cause of your anxiety – my escort and presence would prove of some use to you."

"Certainly, caballero, and I accept your gracious offer with the greatest pleasure. I am returning to the Hacienda del Barrio, to give a report of the mission confided to me, and which nearly cost me so dear. I suppose that no serious reason prevents your accompanying me on that road?"

"None; especially as I shall only go so far as I can with safety."

"As that is the case, let us start, for I am anxious to get away."

The count ordered his troopers to wheel, and the little party started again at a gallop.

"Why," the count said suddenly, as he looked at the adventurer's steed, "if I am not greatly mistaken, that horse comes out of the stables of General de Cárdenas."

"Quite right; it does."

"How do you happen to be riding it?"

"That is part of the story."

"Begin it, then, in heaven's name, for I am dying of impatience to hear it."

"In that case, listen to me, Señor Conde. But be kind enough to let my comrade Diego López remain near us. He behaved too well to me, during the short time we were together, for me to begrudge him this slight satisfaction."

The count granted the Canadian's request with pleasure, and made a sign to Diego, who eagerly ranged his horse by the side of Oliver Clary's. The Canadian then began his narrative, relating with the utmost frankness events as they occurred, from the moment when he quitted the count at the hacienda up to that when he found him galloping again on the road to Leona. The count listened to the Canadian's lengthy story with the most earnest attention, at times letting the feelings be seen on his stern face which the facts the adventurer related aroused in him. When the latter ceased speaking, he shook his head several times.

"You were more lucky than clever," he said, "and the way in which you gained your liberty almost trenches on the marvellous. The general deserved worse treatment than that for the way in which he behaved to you, and the contempt he displayed for the safe conduct I had given you. Alas! We live in hapless times, when honour and good faith are mere words devoid of meaning."

"Not to everybody," the Canadian exclaimed, quickly.

"Certainly not, and I am pleased to allow it; of all the things you have related to me, there is only one of which I do not approve."

"Which is that, Señor Conde?"

"The help you gave the redskin imprisoned with you. These Indians are a real scourge to us dwellers on the border; letting one escape when caught is like setting a ferocious brute at liberty."

"That is true, señor; but what would you have? I have lived for many years among the redskins; I have frequently fought them, and at times killed them without the slightest scruple; but I cannot allow that they should be deprived of their sole property – liberty. Besides, he was an old acquaintance, in this sense, that the tribe to which he belongs has done me great services on several occasions. As I had a chance to repay them, I did so."

"Yes, you are right, and you are bound to reason thus after the life you have led. I will not dwell on this subject further, therefore; but what you have said has produced a powerful impression on me. I require a few moments' reflection, in order to regulate my thoughts; so kindly excuse me if I am silent for a few minutes; after which we will converse again. I intend to ride two or three leagues further with you."

The adventurer bowed, and turning to Diego López, he thanked him warmly for what he had tried to do for him, and assured him that, although he had not profited by his advice, he was not the less grateful for it. While talking and galloping, they passed through the canyon where they had been attacked a few days previously by the Indians, and were about to enter a rather large chaparral, which they were obliged to cross to reach the banks of the lake, when the Canadian's piercing eye perceived, some distance ahead, the body of a man lying at the foot of an enormous sumach, beneath which he seemed to be seeking a shelter from the sun.

"There is a man," said the adventurer, "who knows but little about the desert."

"What man are you talking of?" Diego López asked, who had not yet looked in that direction.

"Look there," the adventurer said, stretching out his arm, "that individual has placed himself by the roadside, within reach of the first passerby who may feel inclined to kill him in order to seize the little he possesses. I know countries in Apacheria where he would not lie in that way, without being really scalped by some Indian prowler."

"It is singular," Diego López continued, "he has no horse, and that is extraordinary in a country where the poorest peon has one."

"That is true," the Canadian said, and added a moment later, "I am very much afraid that our fancied sleeper is simply a dead man."

"Do you think so?" the peon said.

"Hang it, I do not know exactly, but he has not made the slightest movement since we first perceived him. If he be not dead, as I expect, he must be a very sound sleeper not to have heard the sound of our horses."

"I will inform the Señor Conde," the peon replied, as he turned back and rejoined his master.

The latter listened to his servant's report with, some surprise, for no assassination had occurred for a long time on this road, which was greatly frequented by travellers of every description. He spurred his horse, and joined the adventurer, who had pulled up to wait for him.

"What do you think about it?" he asked him.

"Nothing good," the latter replied; "still I think that we had better make sure. With your permission I will push on, and find out what it all means."

"We will all go," the count answered; "if the pretended corpse concealed a trap, there would be enough of us to foil it."

"Let us push on then," the Canadian said, as he slacked his rein, and his horse started with the speed of lightning.

The others followed him, and they soon reached the sumach; the man had not stirred. The count and the adventurer dismounted, and walked up to the body, which still lay motionless, and bent over it.

"It is a white man," said the Canadian.

"Yes," the count added, after a moment of attentive examination; "I know him. His name is Don Melchior. I saw him at the Hacienda del Barrio during my last visit. Don Aníbal de Saldibar is sincerely attached to him. How is it that he is here, and in such a hapless condition?"

"That is a question which himself alone could answer, and for the moment I fear that it is impossible for him to do so. Let us first make sure whether he be dead or alive."

Like all the wood rangers, who, through the chances of their adventurous life, run a risk of being wounded at any moment, the Canadian, though no great doctor, possessed some practical knowledge of medicine, or, to speak more correctly, of surgery. He bent over the young man, raised him with one hand, and held him up in a sitting position, while he held to his mouth the bright blade of his knife. A moment later he looked at it; it was slightly tarnished.

"Thank heaven!" he said, "He is not dead, though not much better off; he has fainted."

"The poor boy appears to me very ill," the count remarked, sorrowfully.

"That is true; but he is young and strong, and so long as the soul clings to the body there is a chance."

"How can we help him? We must not leave him in this pitiable state."

"Of course not, for that would be certain death. Diego López, give me your flask if there is any liquor in it."

"It is quite full," the peon said, handing it to him.

The Canadian mixed a little mezcal with water in a leaf he bent up, and then rubbed the temples, wrists, and stomach of the wounded man with it; after which, thrusting the knife blade between his teeth, he opened his mouth by main force, and made him swallow a few drops, while Diego López continued the friction, and the count, kneeling behind the young man, kept him in a sitting posture. For nearly a quarter of an hour their efforts seemed to produce no effect on the wounded man; still the Canadian, far from giving in, redoubled his exertions, and ere long had cause to congratulate himself on his perseverance when he saw the young man make a slight movement.