The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista

He devoted the last hours of the afternoon to watchinghis distant garden. It had always been a pleasantlandscape to him, but now it was friendlier than ever.That was a fine cactus, and it was a noble forest of dwarfpine or cedar-he wished he did know which. An hourafter the dark had fully come he let the thread out again.

"This beats any other fishing I ever did," he murmured."Well, it ought to. It's fishing for one's life."

He was calmer than on the night before, and fellasleep earlier, but he had fixed his mind so resolutely ona waking time at least an hour before daylight that heawoke almost at the appointed minute. Then he tiptoedacross the cold floor to the thread. Nobody could haveheard him through those solid walls, but the desire forsecrecy was so strong that he unconsciously tiptoed, nevertheless. He pulled the thread, and he felt at oncethat something heavy had been fastened to the other end.Then he pulled more slowly. The thread was veryslender, and the weight seemed great for so slight a line. Ifit were to break, the tragedy would be genuinely terrible.He had heard of the sword suspended by a single hair, and it seemed to him that he was in some such case.But the thread was stronger than John realized-it hadbeen chosen so on purpose-and it did not break.

As the far end of the thread approached the loophole,he was conscious of a slight metallic ring against thestone wall. His interest grew in intensity. Phil andthese unknown friends of his were sending him somethingmore than a note. He pulled with exceeding slownessand care now, lest the metallic object hook against thefar edge of the loophole. But it came in safely, slidacross the stone, and reached his hand. It was a largeiron key, with a small piece of paper tied around it. Hetore off the paper, and read, in a handwriting the same asthat on the first one:

"This is the key to your cell, No. 37, but do not useit. Do not even put it in the lock until the fourth nightfrom to-night. Then at midnight, as nearly as you canjudge, unlock and go out. Let out the thread for the lasttime to-morrow night."

John looked at the key and glanced longingly at thelock. He had no doubt that it would fit. But he obeyedorders and did not try it. Instead he thrust it into theold ragged mattress of his cot. He resumed his physicalexercises the next day, giving an hour to them in themorning and another hour in the afternoon. They helped, but the breath of hope was doing more for him, bothmind and body, than anything else. He felt so strongand active that he did not chaff Diego any more lest theMexican, stolid and wooden though he was, might suspectsomething.

He let out the thread according to orders, and, at theusual time, drew in a dagger, slender and very light, butlong and keen as a razor. He read readily the purpose ofthis. There would be much danger when he opened thedoor to go out, and he must have a weapon. He ran hisfinger along the keen edge and saw that it would be trulyformidable at close quarters. Then he hid it in hismattress with the key, wound up the thread, and put it inthe same place. All had now come to pass as promised, and he felt that the remainder would depend greatly uponhimself. So he settled down as best he could to threedays and nights of almost intolerable waiting. Dull andheavy as the time was, and surely every second was aminute, many fears also came with it. They might takeit into their heads to change that ragged old mattress ofhis, and then the knife, the thread, and the key would befound. He would dismiss such apprehensions with thepower of reason, but the power of fear would bring themback again. Too much now depended upon his freedomfrom examination and search to allow of a calm mind.

Yet time passed, no matter how slow, and he washelped greatly by his physical exercises, which gave himoccupation, besides preparing him for an expected ordeal.Hope, too, was doing its great work. He could fairly feelthe strength flowing back into his veins, and his nervesbecoming tougher and more supple. Every night helooked out at the mountain slope and itemized his littlegarden there that he had never touched, shrub by shrub, stone by stone, not forgetting the great cactus. He toldhimself that he did not expect to see any light there again, because the unknown sender of messages had not spokenof another, but, deep down at the bottom of his heart, hewas hoping to behold the torch once more, and he feltdisappointment when it did not appear.

He tried to imagine how Phil looked. He knew thathe must be a great, strong boy, as big as a man. Heknew that his spirit was bold and enterprising, yet hemust have had uncommon skill and fortune to havepenetrated so deep into Mexico, and to preserve a hiding-placeso near to the great Castle of Montevideo. And thefriends with him must be molded of the finest steel.Who were they? He recalled daring and adventurousspirits among his own comrades in the fatal expedition, but as he ran over every one in his mind he shook hishead. It could not be.

It is the truth that, during all this period, inflictingsuch a tremendous strain upon the captive, John neveronce tried the key in the door. It was the supreme testof his character, of his restraint, of his power of will, and he passed it successfully. The thread, the dagger, and the key lay together untouched in the bottom of theold mattress, and he waited in all the outward seeming ofpatience.

The first night was very clear, on the second it rainedfor six or seven hours. The entire mountainside wasveiled in sheets of water or vapor, and John saw nothingbeyond his window but the black blur. The third nightwas clear, but when the morning of the fourth daydawned, John thought, from the clouds that were floatingalong the mountain slope, it would be rainy again. Hehoped that the promise would come true. Darkness andrain favor an escaping prisoner.

The last day was the most terrible of all. Now andthen he found his heart pounding as if it would rack itselfto pieces. It was difficult to go through with the exercises, and it was still more difficult to preserve calmness ofmanner in the presence of Diego. Yet he did both.Moreover, his natural steadiness seemed to come back tohim as the hour drew near. His was one of those rareand fortunate natures which may be nervous andapprehensive some time before the event, but which becomehard and firm when it is at hand. Now John foundhimself singularly calm. The eternity of waiting had passed, and he was strong and ready.

Diego brought him his supper early, and then, through his loophole, he watched the twilight deepen intothe night. And with the night came the rain that themorning and afternoon clouds had predicted. It was acold rain, driven by a wind that shrieked down thevalley, and drops of it, hurled like shot the full width of theslit, struck John in the face. But he liked the cool sharptouch, and he felt sure that the rain would continue allthrough the night. So much the better.

John's clothing was old and ragged, and he wore apair of heelless Mexican shoes. He had no hat or cap.But a prisoner of three lonely years seeking to escape wasnot likely to think of such things.

He waited patiently through these last hours. Hewas compelled to judge for himself when midnight hadcome, but he believed that he had made a closecalculation. Then he took a final look through the loophole.The wind, with a mighty groaning and shrieking, wasstill driving the rain down the slopes, and nothing wasvisible. Then, with a firm hand, he took from the bedthe thread, the knife, and the key. It was not likelythat he would have any further use for the thread, but forthe sake of precaution he put it in his pocket. He alsoslipped the dagger into the back of his coat at the neck, after a southwestern fashion which allowed a man todraw and strike with a single motion.

Then, key in hand, he boldly approached the door.Some throbbings of doubt appeared, but he sternlyrepressed them. Giving himself no time for hesitation, heput the key in the lock and turned his hand toward theright. The key, without any creaking or scraping, turned with it. His heart gave a great leap. He didnot know until now that he had really doubted. His joyat the fact showed it. But the miracles were comingtrue, one after another.

He turned the key around the proper distance, and heheard the heavy bolt slide back. He knew that he wouldhave nothing to do now but pull on the door, yet hepaused a few moments as one lingers over a great pleasure,in order to make it greater. He pulled, and the doorcame back with the same familiar slight creak that hehad heard it make so often when Diego entered or left.With an involuntary gesture of one hand, he badefarewell to his cell and stepped into the long, dark corridorupon which the row of cells opened. But for the sake ofprecaution he locked the cell door again and put the keyin his pocket.

Then he drew the slender dagger, clutched it firmly inhis right hand, and stepped softly back against the wall, which was in heavy shadow, no light entering it from thenarrow barred window at either end. John's heart beatpainfully, but he did not believe that the miracles whichwere being done in his behalf had yet ended. With hisback still toward the wall, and his hand on the hilt of thedagger, he slipped soundlessly along for a few feet. Hiseyes, growing used to the darkness, made out the posts atthe head of a stairway.

Evidently this was the way he should go, and hepaused again. Then his blood slowly chilled withinhim. A human figure was standing beside one of theposts. He saw it distinctly. It was the figure of a tallman in a long black serape, with a dark handkerchieftied around mouth and chin after the frequent Mexicanfashion, and a great sombrero which nearly met thehandkerchief. He could see nothing but the narroweststrip of dark face, and in the dusk the man rose to thesize of a giant. He was truly a formidable figure to onewho had been three years a captive, to one who wasarmed only with a slender knife.

But the crisis in John Bedford's life was so great thathe advanced straight toward the ominous presence in hispath. The man said nothing, but John felt as heapproached that the stranger was regarding him steadily.Moreover, he made no motion to draw a weapon. Johnsaw now that one of his hands rested on the post at thestairhead, and the other hung straight down by his side.Surely this was not the attitude of a foe! Perhaps herewas merely another in the chain of miracles that hadbegun to work in his behalf. He advanced a step or twonearer, and the stranger was yet motionless. Anotherstep, and the man spoke in a sharp whisper:

"I am," replied John.

"I've been waiting for you. Come. But first take this."

He drew a double-barreled pistol from his pocket andhanded it to John, who did as he was told. The strangerthen produced from under his capacious serape anotherserape and a Mexican hat, which John, acting under hisinstructions, also put on.

"Now," said the man, "follow me, and do what I door what I tell you.

"It is the midnight hour,They wait us at the gate.May Heaven its favors pour,Then easy is our fate.

You seem to be a brave fellow like your brother; thennow is the time to show your courage, and remember, also, that I can do all the talking for both of us.Talking is my great specialty."

It seemed to John that the stranger spoke in an oddmanner, but he liked the sound of his voice, which wasat once strong and kind. Why should he not like a manwho had come through every imaginable danger to savehim from a living death!

"My brother?" whispered John in his eagerness."Is he still near?"

"I told you I was to do all the talking," replied theman. "You just follow and step as lightly as you can."

John obeyed, and, after a descent of a few steps, theycame to one of the heavy wooden doors, twelve feet high, but the stranger unlocked it with a key taken from thefolds of that invaluable Mexican garment, the serape.

"You didn't think I'd come on such a trip as thiswithout making full preparations?" said the man with aslight humorous inflection. Then he added: "You'rejust a plain, common Mexican, some servant or other, employed about the castle, and you continue to slouchalong behind me, who may be an officer for all one knowsin this darkness. But first push with me on this door.Push hard and push slowly."

The heavy door moved back a foot or two, but thatwas all the stranger wanted. He slipped through theopening, and John came after him. Then the man closedand locked the door again.

"A wise burglar leaves no trail behind him," he said,"and, although it is too dark for me to see you very well,I want to tell you, Sir John of the Cell, that your figureand walk remind me a great deal of your brother, SirPhilip of the Mountain, the River, and the Plain, asgallant a lad as one may meet in many a long day."

A question, a half dozen of them leaped to John'slips, but, remembering his orders, he checked them allthere.

"Ah, I see," said the stranger. "That would certainlytempt any man to ask questions, but, rememberingwhat I told you, you did not ask them. You are ofthe true metal.

"Though in prison he lay,His spirit was strong,He sought a better day,And now it's come along.

At least it's a better night, which, for the uses ofpoetry, is the same as day. This stairway, John, leadsinto the great inner court, and then our troubles begin, although we ought to return thanks all the rest of ourdays for the rain and the heavy darkness. The Mexicanofficers will see no reason why they shouldn't remainunder shelter, and the Mexican soldiers, in this case, willbe glad enough to do as their officers do."

John now followed his guide with absolute faith. Theman spoke more queerly than anybody else that he hadever heard, but everything that he did or said inspiredconfidence.

They came to the bottom of the stairway and reachedthe great paved central court, with the buildings of theofficers scattered here and there. They stepped into thecourt, and John fairly shrank within himself when thecold rain lashed into his face. He did not know untilthen how three years within massive walls had softenedand weakened him. But he held himself erect andtautened his nerves, resolved that his comrade should notsee that he had shivered.

They saw lights shining from the windows of some ofthe low buildings, but no human being was visible withinthe square.

"They've all sought cover," said his rescuer, "andnow is our best chance to get through one of the gates.After that there are other walls and ditches to be passed, but, Sir John of the Night, the Wall, the Rain, and theMoat, we'll pass them. This little plan of ours has beentoo well laid to go astray. Just the same, you keep thatpistol handy."

John drew the serape about his thin body. It wasuseful for other things than disguise. Without it thecold would have struck him to the bone. His rescuerled the way across the court until they came to one of thegreat gates in the wall. The sentinel then was pacingback and forth, his musket on his shoulder, and atintervals he called: "Sentinela alerte!" that his comrades atother gates might hear, and out of the wind and raincame at intervals, though faintly, the responding cry,"Sentinela alerte!" John and the stranger were almostupon this man when the cry "Sentinela alerte!" camefrom the next gate. He turned quickly as the two darkfigures emerged from the darker gloom, but the stranger, with extraordinary dexterity, threw his serape over hisface, checking any cry, while his powerful hands chokedhim into insensibility. At the same time the strangeruttered the answering cry, "Sentinela alerte!"

"You haven't killed him?" exclaimed John, aghast,as his rescuer let the Mexican slide to the wet earth.

"Not at all," replied this resourceful man. "Thecold rain will bring him back to his senses in fiveminutes and in ten minutes he will be as well as ever, but in ten minutes we should play our hand, if we everplay it."

He drew an enormous key from the pocket of theMexican, unlocked the gate, and, after they had passedout, locked it behind them. Then they stood on the edgeof the great moat, two hundred feet wide, twenty feetdeep and bank full. The man dropped the key into thewater.

"Now, Sir John of the Escape," he said, "the drawbridgeis up, and if it were down it would be too wellguarded for us to pass. We must swim. I don't knowhow strong you are after a long life in prison, but swimyou must. Life is dear, and I think you'll swim. We'lltake off most of our clothes and tie them with our weaponson our heads. What a wild night! But how good it isfor us!"

Crouching in the shadow of the wall they took offmost of their clothes, and then each tied them in apackage containing his weapons, also, on his head. Theywere secured with strips torn from John's rags.Meanwhile, the night was increasing in wildness. John wouldhave viewed it with awe, had not his escape absorbedevery thought. The wind groaned through the gorges ofthe great Sierra, and the cold rain lashed like a whip.The rumblings of thunder came from far and deepvalleys between the ridges.

"Now," said the man, "we'll drop into the moattogether. But let yourself down by your hands as gentlyas you can, and make no splash when you strike. Now, over we go!"

The two dropped into the water, taking care not to gounder, and then began to swim toward the far edge of themoat. John had been a good swimmer, but the waterwas very cold to his thin body. Nevertheless, he swamwith a fairly steady stroke, until they were abouthalf-way across, when he felt cramps creeping over him. Butthe stranger, who kept close by his side, had beenwatching, and he put one hand under John's body. In waterthe light support became a strong one, and now Johnswam easily.

They reached the far edge and climbed up on the wall.Here John lay a little while, gasping, while the stranger, who now seemed a very god to him, rubbed his cold bodyto bring back the warmth. From a point down the bankcame the cry "Sentinela alerte!" and from a point in theother direction came the answering cry, "Sentinelaalerte!"

"Lie flat," whispered his rescuer to John, "and we'llwriggle across fifty feet of ground here until we come to awooden wall. We're lost if we stand up, because I thinklightning is coming with that thunder."

He spoke with knowledge, as the thunder suddenlygrew louder and the air around them was tinted withphosphorescent light. It was not a flare of lightning, merely its distant reflection, but it was enough to havedisclosed them, if they had been standing, to any one tenpaces distant. The danger itself gave them new strength, and they quickly crossed the ground to the chevaux defrise, where they crouched against the tall cedar posts.They lay almost flat upon the ground, and they were veryglad of the shelter, because the lightning was comingnearer. Now, when the lightning flashed along themountain slopes, they saw not far away the dim figure ofa soldier, and they heard distinctly his cry: "Sentinelaalerte!"

"Wait until he goes back," whispered the stranger."Then we must climb the wall and climb it quickly.It's fastened with cross timbers which will give us holdfor both hand and foot."

The lightning tinted the sky once more with itsphosphorescent gleam, and they did not see the soldier.

"Now for it!" said the man in a sharp, commandingwhisper. "Up with you and over the wall!"

John seized the crosspiece, and in another instantwas on the top of a wall of cedar posts twelve feet high.He did not know until afterward that the strong hand ofhis rescuer had helped him up. In another instant theman was beside him, and then the lightning flaredbrightly, showing vividly the huge castle, the stoneramparts, the moats and the two figures, naked to the waist, sitting on top of the cedar wall.

"Sentinela alerte!" was shouted far louder than usual, and "Sentinela alerte!" came the reply in the same tone.Two musket shots were fired, and the two figures, onewith a red stain on his side, sprang outward from thecedar fence into the second and smaller moat, which wasonly fourteen feet wide, although its outer wall was anearthwork rising very high above the water. Two orthree strong strokes carried them across, and withdesperate efforts they climbed up the high bank. They heardshouts, and they knew that when the lightning flaredagain more shots would be fired at them. It was thenthat John noticed the red stain on the side of hiscomrade, and all the reserves of mental strength that madehim so much like his brother, Philip, came to his aid.He snatched the package from his head, tore it apart, threw the serape around his body and stood up, erect anddefiant, pistol in hand. He would do something for thisman who had done so much for him.

The lightning flared again, a long quivering stroke, and the heads of half a dozen men appeared at the crestof the chevaux de frise, not twenty feet away. But JohnBedford looked at only one of them. He saw the swarthy, angry face of de Armijo. He seemed to be beckoningwith his sword to his men, but a flash like that of thelightning seared John's whole brain. He rememberedhow this man had struck him down, when he was chainedand helpless, and he fired point blank at the angry face.De Armijo fell back with a terrible cry. He was notdead, but the bullet had plowed full length across hischeek, and he would bear there a terrible red weal all therest of his life.

The lightning passed, and they were in completedarkness, but John felt a hand on his arm.

"Come," whispered his rescuer. "You did thatwell. Prison hasn't taken any of the manhood fromyou. We're outside everything now, and the others arewaiting for us."

They fled away together in the darkness.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE HUT IN THE COVE

John Bedford forgot everything in those momentsof wild exultation save the fact that he was free.The miracles had begun, and the whole chain wasnow complete. After three years in one cell he had leftbehind him forever, as he believed, the Castle ofMontevideo, and he was going straight to his brother andpowerful friends. He cast back only a single look, and thenhe saw the huge dim bulk of the castle showing throughthe mists and the rain. But presently the woods shut itfrom view, and he could not have seen it had he lookedagain. John's exultation, the vast rebound, grew. Hehad escaped, and he had struck down the enemy who hadstruck him. He felt equal to anything, and he forgot forthe moment that the man who had rescued him in such anextraordinary way was wounded. But the man himselfstopped soon.

"We'll wait here, Sir John of the Fleet Foot," hesaid. "Our friends who are frolicking in this thornyForest of Arden were to come if they heard the sound offiring, and we must not go far away lest we miss them.Truly that was a fine and timely shot of yours, Sir Johnof the Bold Escape, and I judged by the look of yourface that you had no love for the man at whom youfired."

"I did not," replied John. "He beat me, when Iwas in chains."

The other man uttered a low whistle.

"That was a nasty thing to do, but you are even. Ifhe's still alive he'll have a face that will scare a dog.

"Whate'er you doUnto another,Some day that otherWill do unto you.

"Bear that in mind, young sir. In the hour oftriumph do not rejoice too much in the fall of the man whohas failed, because when he achieves his triumph and youhave failed, which is likely to come to pass some time orother, he may make some moments exceedingly bitterunto thee. And now I shall dress myself, as I think Ihear the footsteps of visitors."

John remembered that he, too, was clad lightly, andhastily put on his upper garments, while his friend didlikewise. He now heard the steps, also, and they wererapidly coming nearer.

"Shouldn't we move?" he whispered. "Those mustbe Mexicans."

"No, we shouldn't move, because those are not thefootsteps of Mexicans. Those sounds are made by thehardy feet of just two persons. One of them is a large braveGerman man, whose tread I would know a mile away, andthe other, the lighter tread of whom is drowned in thevolume of sound made by his comrade, is a boy, a strong, healthy boy who comes from a little town in Kentucky, which has the same name as a big town in France."

John began to tremble all over. He knew what thesewords meant. His friend uttered a low whistle, andquickly a low whistle in reply came from a point nottwenty feet away. There was a moment of silence, thenthe approaching footsteps were resumed, the bushes wereparted, and, as the lightning flared once more across thesky, John Bedford and Philip Bedford looked into thefaces of each other.