"You overwhelm me, Master Davis; I am only doing now what you would do in my place."
"Agreed. But you display a graciousness which confuses me."
"A truce, if you please, to further compliments. Here is your horse, which my assistant is bringing up."
"But he is leading a second; do you intend to accompany me beyond the advanced posts?"
"Oh, only for a few yards, if my company does not seem to you too wearisome."
"Oh, Colonel, I shall always be delighted to have you for a companion."
All these remarks were made with an accent Of excessive courtesy, in which, however, could be traced an almost imperceptible tinge of fun and biting raillery. The two men left the house and mounted their horses. The night was limpid and clear; millions of stars sparkled in the sky, which seemed studded with diamonds; the moon spread afar its white and fantastic light; the mysterious night breeze bowed the tufted crests of the trees, and softly rippled the silvery waters of the Rio Trinidad, as they died away amorously on the bank.
The two men walked side by side, passing without being challenged by the sentinels, who, at a signal from the Colonel, respectfully stepped back. They soon descended the hill, passed the main guard, and found themselves in the open country. Each of them yielded to the voluptuous calmness of nature, and seemed no longer to be thinking of his comrade. They proceeded thus for more than an hour, and reached a spot where two paths, in crossing, formed a species of fork, in the centre of which stood a cross of evil omen, probably erected in memory of a murder formerly committed at this solitary spot.
As if by common accord, the two horses stopped and thrust out their heads, while laying back their ears and snorting loudly. Suddenly aroused from their reveries and recalled to actual life, the two riders drew themselves up in the saddle, and bent a scrutinising glance around. No human sound disturbed the silence; all around was calm and deserted as in the first days of creation.
"Do you intend, my dear Colonel," the American asked, "to honour me with your charming society any longer?"
"No," the young man answered, bluntly; "I shall stop here."
"Ah!" John Davis continued, with feigned disappointment, "shall we part already?"
"Oh no," the Colonel answered, "not yet."
"In spite of the extreme pleasure I should feel in remaining longer in your company, I am obliged to continue my journey."
"Oh, you will surely grant me a few moments, Master Davis?" the other said, with an emphasis on each syllable.
"Well, a few moments, but no more; for I have a long distance to go, and whatever pleasure I feel in conversing with you "
"You alone," the Colonel interrupted him, "shall decide the time we shall remain together."
"It is impossible to display greater courtesy."
"Master Davis," the Colonel said, raising his voice, "have you forgotten the last conversation we had together?"
"My dear Colonel, you must know me well enough to be sure that I only forget those things which I ought not to remember."
"Which means?"
"That I perfectly well remember the conversation to which you allude."
"All the better. In that case your excellent memory spares me half the trouble, and we shall soon come to an understanding."
"I believe so."
"Do you not find the spot where we are admirably adapted for what we have to do?"
"I consider it delicious, my dear Colonel."
"Then, with your consent, we will dismount?"
"At your orders; there is nothing I detest so much as a lengthened conversation on horseback."
They leaped to the ground and tied up their horses.
"Do you take your rifle?" the American inquired.
"Yes, if you have no objection."
"Not at all. Then we are going to see some sport?"
"Oh yes, but on this occasion the game will be human."
"Which will add greatly to the interest of the sport."
"Come, you are a delightful comrade, Master Davis."
"What would you, Colonel? I never was able to refuse my friends anything."
"Where shall we place ourselves?"
"I trust to you entirely for that."
"Look! On each side the road are bushes, which seem to have grown for the express purpose."
"That is really singular. Well, we will each hide behind one of the bushes, count ten, and then fire."
"First-rate; but suppose we miss? I am perfectly well aware that we are both first-rate marksmen, and that is almost impossible; but it might happen."
"In that case nothing is more simple: we will draw our machetes and charge each other."
"Agreed. Stay, one word more; one of us must remain on the ground, I suppose?"
"I should think so. If not, what would be the use of fighting?"
"That is true; so promise me one thing."
"What is it?"
"The survivor will throw the body into the river."
"Hum! Then you are very desirous that I should not come to life again?"
"Well, you can understand "
"All right, that is agreed."
"Thank you."
The two men bowed, and then went off in opposite directions, to take up their stations. The distance between them was about seventy yards; in a few seconds a double detonation burst forth like a clap of thunder, and woke up the echoes. The two adversaries then rushed on each other, machete in hand. They met nearly half way, and not uttering a word, attacked each other furiously.
The combat lasted a long time, and threatened to continue longer, without any marked advantage for either of the champions, for they were nearly of equal strength, when all at once several men appeared, and, aiming at the two adversaries, ordered them to lay down their arms immediately. Each fell back a step, and waited.
"Stop!" the man shouted, who seemed to be the Chief of the newcomers; "do you, John Davis, mount your horse and be off!"
"By what right do you give me that order?" the American asked, savagely.
"By the right of the stronger," the leader replied. "Be off, if you do not wish a misfortune to happen to you!"
John Davis looked around him. Any resistance was impossible for what could he have done alone, merely armed with a sabre, against twenty individuals? The American stifled an oath, and mounted again, but suddenly reflecting, he asked, "And who may you be, who thus pretend to dictate to me?"
"You wish to know?"
"Yes."
"Well, I am a man to whom you and Colonel Melendez offered an atrocious insult. I am the Monk Antonio!"
At this name the two adversaries felt a thrill of terror run through their veins; without doubt the monk was about to avenge himself, now that in his turn he had them in his power.
CHAPTER V
BEFORE THE BATTLE
John Davis recovered almost immediately.
"Ah, ah!" he said, "Then it is you, my master?"
"It astonishes you to meet me here."
"On my honour, no. Your place, in my opinion, is wherever a snare is laid; hence nothing is more natural than your presence."
"It is wrong, John Davis, for a man to take advantage of his weakness to insult people, especially when he is ignorant of their intentions."
"Ah, they appear to me tolerably clear at this moment."
"You might be mistaken."
"I do not believe it. However, I shall soon be certain."
"What are you doing?"
"As you see, I am dismounting."
In fact, the American leapt from his horse, drew his pistols from the holsters, and walked toward the monk with a most quiet step and thoroughly natural air.
"Why do you not go, as I advised you to do?" Fray Antonio continued.
"For two reasons, my dear Señor. The first is, that I have no orders or advice to receive from you; the second, because I shall not be sorry to be present at the pretty little act of scoundrelism you are of course meditating."
"Then your intention is "
"To defend my friend, by Heaven!" the American exclaimed, warmly.
"What! your friend?" the monk said, in amazement: "why, only a minute ago you were trying to take his life."
"My dear Señor," Davis remarked, ironically, "there are certain remarks whose sense you unhappily never catch. Understand me clearly: I am ready to kill this gentleman, but I will not consent to see him assassinated. That is clear enough, hang it all!"
Fray Antonio burst into a laugh.
"Singular man!" he said.
"Am I not?" Then turning to his adversary, who still stood perfectly quiet, he continued: "My dear Colonel, we will resume, at a later date, the interesting interview which this worthy Padre so untowardly interrupted. For the present, permit me to restore you one of the pistols you so generously lent me; it is undoubted that these scamps will kill us; but, at any rate, we shall have the pleasure of settling three or four of them first."
"Thank you, Davis," the Colonel answered, "I expected nothing less from you. I accept your proposition as frankly as you make it."
And he took the pistol, and cocked it. The American took his place by his side, and bowed to the stranger with mocking courtesy.
"Señores," he said, "you can charge us whenever you think proper, for we are prepared to sustain your charge bravely."
"Ah, ah!" said Fray Antonio, "Then you really mean it?"
"What! mean it? The question seems to me somewhat simple; I suppose you think the hour and place well chosen for a joke?"
The monk shrugged his shoulders, and turned to the men who accompanied him.
"Be off!" he said. "In an hour I will join you again, you know where."
The strangers gave a nod of assent, and disappeared almost instantaneously among the trees and shrubs. The monk then threw his weapons on the ground, and drew so near to the men as almost to touch them.
"Are you still afraid?" he said; "It is I now who am in your power."
"Halloh!" Davis said, as he uncocked his pistol, "why, what is the meaning of this?"
"If, instead of taking me as a bandit, as you did, you had taken the trouble to reflect, you would have understood that I had but one object, and that was, to prevent the resumption of the obstinate fight which my presence so fortunately interrupted."
"But how did you arrive here so opportunely?"
"Accident did it all. Ordered by our Commander-in-chief to watch the enemy's movements, I posted myself on the two roads, in order to take prisoner all the scouts who came in this direction."
"Then you do not owe either the Colonel or myself any grudge?"
"Perhaps," he said, with hesitation, "I have not quite forgotten the unworthy treatment you inflicted on me; but, at any rate, I have given up all thoughts of vengeance."
John Davis reflected for a moment, and then said, as he offered him his hand, "You are a worthy monk. I see that you are faithful to the pledge of amendment you made. I am sorry for what I did."
"I will say the same, Señor," the Colonel remarked; "I was far from expecting such generosity on your part."
"One word, now, Señores."
"Speak," they said, "we are listening."
"Promise me not to renew that impious duel, and follow my example by forgetting your hatred."
The two men stretched out their hand with a simultaneous movement.
"That is well," he continued, "I am happy to see you act thus. Now let us separate. You, Colonel, will mount and return to camp the road is free, and no one will try to oppose your passing. As for you, John Davis, please to follow me. Your long absence has caused a degree of alarm which your presence will doubtless dissipate. I had orders to try and obtain news of you."
"Good-bye for the present," the Colonel said; "forget, Señor Davis, what passed between us at the outset of our meeting, and merely remember the manner in which we separate."
"May we, Colonel, meet again under happier auspices, when I may be permitted to express to you all the sympathy with which your frank and loyal character inspires me."
After exchanging a few words more, and cordially shaking hands, the three men separated. Colonel Melendez set off at a gallop in the direction of the rancho, while the monk and Davis started at an equal pace in exactly the opposite direction. It was about midnight when the Colonel reached the main guard, where an aide-de-camp of the General was waiting for him. A certain degree of animation appeared to prevail in the rancho. Instead of sleeping, as they might be expected to be doing at so late an hour, the soldiers were traversing the streets in large numbers; in short, an extreme agitation was visible everywhere.
"What is the matter?" the Colonel asked the aide-de-camp.
"The General will tell you himself," the officer answered, "for he is impatiently expecting you, and has already asked several times for you."
"Oh, then, there is something new."
"I believe so."
The Colonel pushed on ahead, and in a few minutes found himself before the house occupied by the General. The house was full of noise and light; but so soon as the General perceived the young man, he left the officers with whom he was talking, and walked quickly toward him.
"Here you are at last," he said; "I was impatiently expecting you."
"What is the matter then?" the Colonel asked, astounded at this reception, which he was far from expecting, for he had left the camp so quiet, and found it on his return so noisy.
"You shall know, Señores," the General added addressing the officers in the room: "be kind enough not to go away. I shall be with you in an instant. Follow me, Colonel."
Don Juan bowed, and passed into an adjoining room, the door of which the General shut after him. Hardly were they alone, ere the General took the young man affectionately by one of his coat buttons, and fixed on him a glance that seemed trying to read the depths of his heart.
"Since your departure," he said, "we have had a visit from a friend of yours."
"A friend of mine?" the young man repeated.
"Or, at any rate, of a man who gives himself out as such."
"I only know one man in this country," the Colonel replied distinctly, "who, despite the opinions that divide us, can justly assume that title."
"And that man is?"
"The Jaguar."
"Do you feel a friendship for him?"
"Yes."
"But he is a bandit."
"Possibly he is so to you, General; from your point of sight, it is possible that you are right. I neither descry his character, nor condemn him; I am attached to him, for he saved my life."
"But you fight against him, for all that."
"Certainly; for being hurled into two opponent camps, each of us serves the cause that appears to him the better. But, for all that, we are not the less attached to each other in our hearts."
"I am not at all disposed to blame you, my friend, for our inclinations should be independent of our political opinions. But let us return to the subject which at this moment is the most interesting to us. A man, I say, presented himself during your absence at the outposts as being a friend of yours."
"That is strange," the Colonel muttered, searching his memory; "and did he mention his name?"
"Of course; do you think I would have received him else? However, he is in this very house, for I begged him to await your return."
"But his name, my dear General?"
"He calls himself Don Felix Paz."
"Oh," the Colonel exclaimed eagerly, "he spoke the truth, General, for he is really one of my dearest friends."
"Then we can place in him "
"Full and entire confidence; I answer for him on my head," the young officer interrupted warmly.
"I am the more pleased at what you tell me, because this man assured me that he held in his hands means that would enable us to give the rebels a tremendous thrashing."