Part 25 (1/2)
Now, it was not one hundred, or sixty mules; but ten, which forty resolute men seemed hardly sufficient to protect.
The government considered it advisable to employ the greatest prudence in sending off this conducta, which had long been expected at Mexico.
The greatest silence was maintained as to the hour and day of departure, and the road it would follow.
The bales were made so as to conceal, as far as possible, the nature of the merchandise carried; the mules sent off one by one, in open day, only under the protection of the arriero, joined, fifteen leagues from the town, the escort which had been encamped for more than a month, under some plausible excuse, in an ancient presidio.
All had, therefore, been foreseen and calculated with the greatest care and intelligence to get this precious merchandise in safety to its destination; the arrieros, the only persons who knew the value of their load, would be careful not to speak about it, for the little they possessed was made responsible for the safety of their freight, and they ran the risk of being utterly ruined if their mules were robbed on the road.
The conducta advanced in the most excellent order, to the sound of the Nena's bells; the arrieros sang gaily their mules, urging them on by this eternal ”arrea, Mula! Arrea, Linda!”
The pennons fastened to the long lances of the dragoons fluttered in the morning breeze, and the Captain listened idly to the monk's chatter, while at intervals taking a searching glance over the deserted plain.
”Come, come, Fray Antonio,” he said to his stout companion, ”you can no longer regret having set out at so early an hour, for the morning is magnificent, and everything forebodes a pleasant day.”
”Yes, yes,” the other replied with a laugh; ”thanks to Nuestra Senora de la Soledad, honourable Captain, we are in the best possible state for travelling.”
”Well, I am glad to find you in such good spirits, for I feared lest the rather sudden waking this morning might have stirred up your bile.”
”I, good gracious, honourable Captain!” he replied, with feigned humility; ”we unworthy members of the church must submit without murmuring to all the tribulations which it pleases the Lord to send us; and besides, life is so short, that it is better only to look at the bright side, not to lose in vain regret the few moments of joy to which we can lay claim.”
”Bravo! That is the sort of philosophy I like; you are a good companion, Padre--I hope we shall travel together for a long while.”
”That depends a little on you, Senor Captain.”
”On me? how so?”
”Well, on the direction you propose following.”
”Hum!” Don Juan said; ”and pray where may you be going, Senor Padre?”
This old-fas.h.i.+oned tactic of answering one question by another, is excellent, and nearly always succeeds. This time the monk was caught; but, in accordance with the habit of his brethren, his answer was as it was meant to be, evasive.
”Oh, I,” he said with affected carelessness; ”all roads are pretty nearly the same to me; my gown a.s.sures me, wherever chance bends my steps, pleasant faces and hearty reception.”
”That is true; hence I am surprised at the question you asked me an instant back.”
”Oh, it is not worth troubling yourself about, honourable Captain. I should feel agonised at having annoyed you, hence I humbly beg you to pardon me.”
”You have in no way annoyed me, Senor Padre. I have no reason for concealing the road I purpose following; this recua of mules I am escorting does not affect me in any way, and I propose leaving it to-morrow or the day after.”
The monk could not restrain a start of surprise.
”Ah!” he said, as he looked searchingly at the speaker.
”Oh yes,” the Captain continued, in an easy tone, ”these worthy men begged me to accompany them for a few days, through fear of the gavillas that infest the roads; they have, it appears, valuable merchandize with them, and would not like to be plundered.”
”I understand; it would not be at all pleasant for them.”
”Would it? hence I did not like to refuse them the slight service which took me only a little way out of my road; but so soon as they consider themselves in safety, I shall leave them and enter the prairie, in accordance with the instructions I have received, for you know that the Indios Bravos are stirring.”