Part 42 (1/2)
”Cen.o.bio had got a large lot of cochineal from a crafty trader at Oaxaca. It was _cached_ about two leagues from the hacienda in the hills, and a vessel was to drop into the mouth of the Medellin to take it on board.
”A party of us were engaged to carry it across to the coast; and, as the cargo was very valuable, we were all of us armed to the teeth, with orders from the _patrone_ to defend it at all hazards. His men were just the fellows who would obey that order, coming, as it did, from Cen.o.bio.
”The Government somehow or other got wind of the affair, and slipped a strong detachment out of Vera Cruz in time to intercept us. We met them on the other side of this very hill, where a road strikes off towards Medellin.”
”Well! and what followed?”
”Why, the battle lasted nearly an hour; and, after having lost half a score of their best men, the valiant lancers rode back to Vera Cruz quicker than they came out of it.”
”And the smugglers?”
”Carried the goods safe on board. Three of them--poor fellows!--are lying not far off, and I came near sharing their luck. I have a lance-hole through my thigh, here, that pains me at this very moment.”
My ear at this moment caught the sound of dogs barking hoa.r.s.ely below.
Horses of the cavalcade commenced neighing, answered by others from the adjacent fields, who recognised their old companions.
”It must be near night,” I remarked to Raoul.
”I think, about sunset, Captain,” rejoined he. ”It _feels_ about that time.”
I could not help smiling. There was something ludicrous in my comrade's remark about ”feeling” the sunset.
The barking of the dogs now ceased, and we could hear voices ahead welcoming the guerilleros.
The hoofs of our mules struck upon a hard pavement, and the sounds echoed as if under an arched way.
Our animals were presently halted, and we were unpacked and flung rudely down upon rough stones, like so many bundles of merchandise.
We lay for some minutes listening to the strange voices around. The neighing of horses, the barking and growling of dogs, the lowing of cattle, the shouts of the arrieros unpacking their mules, the clanking of sabres along the stone pavement, the tinkling of spurs, the laughter of men, and the voices of women--all were in our ears at once.
Two men approached us, conversing.
”They are of the party that escaped us at La Virgen. Two of them are officers.”
”_Chingaro_! I got this at La Virgen, and a full half-mile off. 'Twas some black jugglery in their bullets. I hope the _patrone_ will hang the Yankee savages.”
”_Quien sabe_?” (Who knows?) replied the first speaker. ”Pinzon has been taken this morning at Puenta Moreno, with several others. They had a fandango with the Yankee dragoons. You know what the old man thinks of Pinzon. He'd sooner part with his wife.”
”You think he will exchange them, then?”
”It is not unlikely.”
”And yet he wouldn't trouble much if you or I had been taken. No--no; he'd let us be hanged like dogs!”
”Well; that's always the way, you know.”
”I begin to get tired of him. By the Virgin! Jose, I've half a mind to slip off and join the Padre.”
”Jarauta?”