Mr. Fortescue by William Westall (best books for 8th graders .TXT) 📕

ready?"

"I am ready."

Carmen knocked loudly at the door.

Two minutes later the door opens, and as the zambo closes it behind him, Carmen seizes him by the throat and pushes him against the wall.

"A word, a whisper, and you are a dead man!" he hisses, sternly, at the same time drawing his dagger. "Open your mouth, or, _per Dios_--The cloth, senor. Now, off with your shirt and trousers."

The turnkey obeys without the least attempt at resistance. The shaking of his limbs as I help him to undress shows that he is half frightened to death.

Then Carmen, still gripping the man's throat and threatening him with his dagger, makes him lie down, and I bind his arms with the cord.

That done, I slip the man's trousers and shirt over my own, don his sombrero, and take his key.

"So far, well," says Carmen, "if we only get safely through the _patio_ and pass the guard! Put the sombrero over your face, imitate the zambo's shuffling gait, and walk carelessly by my side, as if you were conducting me to the gate and a short way down the street. Have you your dagger! Good! Open the door and let us go forth. One word more! If it comes to a fight, back to back. Try to grasp the muskets with your left and stab with your right--upward!"


CHAPTER XI.

OUT OF THE LION'S MOUTH.

As the short sunset of the tropics had now merged into complete darkness, we crossed the _patio_ without being noticed; but near the gateway several soldiers of the guard were seated round a small table, playing at cards by the light of a flickering lamp.

"Hello! Who goes there?" said one of them, looking up. "Pablo, the turnkey, and a friar! Won't you take a hand, Pablo? You won a _real_ from me last night; I want my revenge."

"He is going with me as far as the plaza. It is dark, and I am very near-sighted," put in Carmen, with ready presence of mind. "He will be back in a few minutes, and then he will give you your revenge, won't you, Pablo?"

"_Si, padre, con mucho gusto_," I answered, mimicking the deep guttural of the zambo.

"Good! I shall expect you in a few minutes," said the soldier. "_Buene noche, padre!_"

"Good-night, my son."

"Now for the sentry," murmured Carmen; "luckily we have the password, otherwise it might be awkward."

"We must try to slip past him."

But it was not to be. As we step through the gateway into the street, the man turns right about face and we are seen.

"_Halte! Quien vive?_" he cried.

"Friends."

"Advance, friends, and give the countersign."

"As you see, I am a friar. I have been shriving a condemned prisoner. You surely do not expect me to give the countersign!" said Carmen, going close up to him.

"Certainly not, _padre_. But who is that with you?"

"Pablo, the turnkey."

"Advance and give the countersign, Pablo."

"Baylen."

"Wrong; it has been changed within the last ten minutes. You must go back and get it, friend Pablo."

"It is not worth the trouble. He is only seeing me to the end of the street," pleaded Carmen.

"I shall not let him go another step without the countersign," returned the sentry, doggedly. "I am not sure that I ought to let you go either, father. He has only to ask--"

A sudden movement of Carmen's arm, a gleam of steel in the darkness, the soldier's musket falls from his grasp, and with a deep groan he sinks heavily on the ground.

"Quick, senor, or we shall be taken! Round the corner! We must not run; that would attract attention. A sharp walk. Good! Keep close to the wall. Two minutes more and we shall be safe. A narrow escape! If the sentry had made you go back or called the guard, all would have been lost."

"How was it? Did you stab him?"

"To the heart. He has mounted guard for the last time. So much the better. It is an enemy and a Spaniard the less."

"All the same, Senor Carmen, I would rather kill my enemies in fair fight than in cold blood."

"I also; but there are occasions. As likely as not this soldier would have been in the firing party told off to shoot you to-morrow morning. There would not have been much fair fight in that. And had I not killed him, we should both have been tried by drum-head court-martial, and shot or strangled to-night. This way. Now, I defy them to catch us."

As he spoke, Carmen plunged into a heap of ruins by the wayside, with the intricacies of which, despite the darkness, he appeared to be quite familiar.

"Nobody will disturb us here," he said at length, pausing under the shadow of a broken wall. "These are the ruins of the Church of Alta Gracia, which, in its fall during the great earthquake, killed several hundred worshippers. People say they are haunted; after dark nobody will come near them. But we must not stay many minutes. Take off the zambo's shirt and trousers, and put on your shoes and stockings--there they are--and I shall doff my cloak of religion."

"What next?"

"We must make off with all speed and by devious ways--though I think we have quite thrown our pursuers off the scent--to a house in the outskirts belonging to a friend of the cause, where we shall find horses, and start for the llanos before the moon rises, and the hue and cry can be raised."

"What is the journey?"

"That depends on circumstances. Four or five days, perhaps. _Vamanos!_ Time presses."

We left the ruins at the side opposite to that at which we had entered them, and after traversing several by-streets and narrow lanes reached the open country, and walked on rapidly till we came to a lonesome house in a large garden.

Carmen went up to the door, whistled softly, and knocked thrice.

"Who is there?" asked a voice from within.

"Salvador."

On this the gate of the _patio_, wide enough to admit a man on horseback, was thrown open, and the next moment I was in the arms of Senor Carera.

"Out of the lion's mouth!" he exclaimed, as he kissed me on both cheeks. "I was dying of anxiety. But, thank Heaven and the Holy Virgin, you are safe."

"I have also to thank you and Senor Carmen; and I do thank you with all my heart."

"Say no more. We could not have done less. You were our guest. You rendered us a great service. Had we let you perish without an effort to save you, we should have been eternally disgraced. But come in and refresh yourselves. Your stay here must be brief, and we can talk while we eat."

As we sat at table, Carmen told the story of my rescue.

"It was well done," said our host, thoughtfully, "very well done. Yet I regret you had to kill the sentry. But for that you might have had a little sleep, and started after midnight. As it is, you must set off forthwith and get well on the road before the news of the escape gets noised abroad. And everything is ready. All your things are here, Senor Fortescue. You can select what you want for the journey and leave the rest in my charge."

"All my things here! How did you manage that, Senor Carera?"

"By sending a man, whom I could trust, in the character of a messenger from the prison with a note to the _posadero_, as from you, asking him to deliver your baggage and receipt your bill."

"That was very good of you, Senor Carera. A thousand thanks. How much--"

"How much! That is my affair. You are my guest, remember. Your baggage is in the next room, and while you make your preparations, I will see to the saddling of the horses."

A very few minutes sufficed to put on my riding boots, get my pistols, and make up my scanty kit. When I went outside, the horses were waiting in the _patio_, each of them held by a black groom. Everything was in order. A _cobija_ was strapped behind either saddle, both of which were furnished with holsters and bags.

"I have had some _tasajo_ (dried beef) put in the saddle-bags, as much as will keep you going three or four days," said Senor Carera. "You won't find many hotels on the road. And you will want a sword, Mr. Fortescue. Do me the favor to accept this as a souvenir of our friendship. It is a fine Toledo blade, with a history. An ancestor of mine wore it at the battle of Lepanto. It may bend but will never break, and has an edge like a razor. I give it to you to be used against my country's enemies, and I am sure you will never draw it without cause, nor sheathe it without honor."

I thanked my host warmly for his timely gift, and, as I buckled the historic weapon to my side, glanced at the horse which he had placed at my disposal. It was a beautiful flea-bitten gray, with a small, fiery head, arched neck, sloping shoulders, deep chest, powerful quarters, well-bent hocks, and "clean" shapely legs--a very model of a horse, and as it seemed, in perfect condition.

"Ah, you may look at Pizarro as long as you like, Senor Fortescue, and he is well worth looking at; but you will never tire him," said Carera. "What will you do if you meet the patrol, Salvador?"

"Evade them if we can, charge them if we cannot."

"By all means the former, if possible, and then you may not be pursued. And now, Senor, I trust you will not hold me wanting in hospitality if I urge you to mount; but your lives are in jeopardy, and there may be death in delay. Put out the lights, men, and open the gates. _Adios_, Senor Fortescue! _Adios_, my dear Salvador. We shall meet again in happier times. God guard you, and bring you safe to your journey's end."

And then we rode forth into the night.

"We had better take to the open country at once, and strike the road about a few miles farther on. It is rather risky, for we shall have to get over several rifts made by the earthquake and cross a stream with high banks. But if we take to the road straightway, we are almost sure to meet a patrol. We may meet one in any case; but the farther from the city the encounter takes place, the greater will be our chance of getting through."

"You know best. Lead on, and I will follow. Are these rifts you speak of wide?"

"They are easily jumpable by daylight; but how we shall do them in the dark, I don't know. However, these horses are as nimble as cats, and almost as keen-sighted. I think, if we leave it to them, they will carry us safely over. The sky is a little clearer, too, and that will count in our favor. This way!"

We sped on as swiftly and silently as the spectre horseman of the story, for Venezuelan horses being unshod and their favorite pace a gliding run (much less fatiguing for horse and rider than the high trot of Europe) they move as noiselessly over grass as a man in