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1996

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1 2 3

456

MOOCOfY RiSOlUTiON TBT CHA«T

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2)

^ APPLIED INA^GE Inc

^K 1653 East Main Street

S'S Rochester, Neo York 14609 USA

'-aa (716) 482 -OMO - Phone

^S (716) 288 - 5989 - FoK

TH€^DONS^OF
TH€'OLD*PU€BLO

P€RCrV5\L- J COON€Y

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^f. Army of California

' Fremont route

Miles—

"/S;/-:,-;..;: .v.:--:";/';^,,--Sc«l« of Mil

Stocktaas'\%sse]s

ThA land of the Dons and the places mentioned in the story

;^s?rof:

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Cefyritkt. 1914
By IUmb. MoNaut * Comvaht

001! .'is 7-,;)

THE PREFACE

an idle iSan J^to 5,^^™ thislSe ma? ^^,
Be tlwt as^rm^' history." ^^*' *>"* the mar-

hness of hi^ - ®.^®^™ ^rom the La«« !- centunes.

I'-i

^'^''««'"'^«yi.l9l4

,ff»'l

1
i

in'f'

I^P

■4

Thb Author

««AFTt«

II.
iil.

IV.
V.
VI.

vir.

VIII.
IX.
X.

XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.
XVII.
XVIII
XIX,
XX.
XXI.
XXII.
XXIII.
XXIV.

THE CONTENTS

The Pack at thb Window

LlHUTENANT JoHN Ca.Roll

A C«Y IN THK Dark

2l ^^ - Lko xhk Sxkakoh.
England's Agent

Marshall's Warning .
A Soldier's Wooing
"CojiotkAmo. Amame-
TheSonsofAncientSpain'
The Clank ok Chains

The Couriers OF THE Night

WAR .

"Sons of the Land. Awake."
The Black Matador .

The Captain's Defiance .
The Race for the Hh-ltop '
The Midnight Sortie

The Paith OF Servolo Palera ' " '

The Snarl OF the Wolf

An Unknown Pribnd " ' ' '

The Cannon of THE Senora' ' ' '

The Battle IN THE Dark

* • « .

rAca

• 9

• 31

• 30

• 42

• 56

• 71
. 8i

• 92

• 97
105

112

124

'33
148

159

. 168

• 176

194

205

213

227

«35
249

' THE CONTENTS

3^V. Vakuha St» zm '**"

XXVII. Th. T.«o. o, th. Sca^„ ^"

™^«^— -jci^z:: — ^

XXIX.ArT«...p,.on.BA.Toto'. **

XXX. Tw Last Stand of tub Cabal,"..! ' ' ' ^"
XXXI. "Shb Shall P..v ^^'^^^ • • • 323

HB bHALL PbaY FOB YOUB DbaTH" . . -.,

XXXII. By THB Giant Oab . . '341

XXXIII. AT THB DBva's RocB ^**

XXXIV. Ah Hohobablb Pbacb ^^'

XXXV. AT Cahubnga Pass ^"^

XXXVI. THB PasSIHO OK THB SHADOW '^^

EwtOGUB ... *^°

431

pp^' J

•

DON JOSE ANTONIO ARILLO

f c-

THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

CHAPTER I

(^LEARER and dearer came th. •

Y note., the mttle^Jc^L*^* "°«^« bugle

nof welcome marked ttT^ • *** '^stance
^«>t.butitS^^iJ°r'°"- The city ,^
awed quietude, a. tf tte .T^!"^ "^^ *^ •»
longed it, middky ^^t/J^ f"'"" '"^ P™-
ft was the twelftt^J'J^'/^'^ W

"<J Fremont werete^tT- ' '/**• ^*«'*»
"gainst an apathetio^^ ^ ''"^ «»'««nn8

American flag. ^^ " "• advent ot the

Nether spirit nor material was th^ i^ •
aty for even a show „f!L^ ™" left in the

levies of the govero^^^S^' *^» "O'd
and peons had be^^J^'^"'*'' f» Indians

•■^ve the ptL.I^'^,^-* to the hilb
'r°~>» among the Z^ ^^'^ ""^e mo«

« f<. their cc^-itrr So/*:

le THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

had remained in the pueblo and vntt now gathered
at caiement and window, awaiting with curiosity
the coming of the Americans.

With the older men, though occaiionaHy u. Jit
be heard a word of regret at the pass ng of Mexican
soverdp ty, there was generally a calm accept-
ance of . conqtiest long recognized as inevitable,
but among Jm younger generation, hotter headed
and less philosophical, was apparent a silent
sullenness that boded ill for the future peace of
the sleepy, sun-parched city.

The house of Arillo haughtily gave no sign.
Thotigh it was a day pregnant with portents of
the future for Don Jos^ Antonio Arillo, there was
no anxiety in his calm face as he idly scanned the
coltmms of a tattered and much bethumbed
Modcan newspaper.

' Madre de Dios," murmured Sefiora Arillo,
**i» it so, that they are really I ere — at last — the
Americans? What shall we do, Jos6 Antonii ;"

"Calm thyself, mother. There is naught to
feai," he replied, with the ready optimism of his
race.

"But the Commandant Castro and his sol-
diers — there will be shooting in the streets?"

Sefior Arillo's quiet, indulgent smile was tuged
with a trace of amusement.

"No; there will be no shooting. The told
Commandant Castro and the brave Governor

"a MCE AT THE WINDOW

Pico, alike *~ «,^ "

A» ho lolled in the eMv^hi? '^ " "» "Poke.

velvet knee breeches, with^;. ^''' '''«*
«hoe. brightly budSd te ^^ '*°*°«» "I

™n<rftheday. In W» fi^T ^°"^ ««"*

'h' calm conUtm«7ar^ "^ '^*» >««
•««» with the world mdW, "*° "^^ » at

At her husband? m^ ""fe >»» been kind.

^j^.* bent o,« httSktr*^
f°Je- Then her «»« JTT 7 ""^ * ««fty

"here a roughly dad Lin ."' ">« I»tio.

g^j « m a plot of freshly broken

'Santa Maria " l
^«« ker thoihte - -n:'^ '"^f "o» to
"orld is coming to' Tht ^"^ ''°* ""»' the

^-o,andthfpeop,eXr„i^-i:^

13 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

not for the better. I do remember well, how,
when a little girl, I saw my brothers — fota* of
them — march away to fight the Spaniards, and
but two came back. And now, por Dios! our
commandant and our governor flee, and strike
not one blow for the land. Ah," she repeated,
"the times are not what they were — nor the
people."

"They must not be blamed, mother. There
was neither money, arms, nor clothing for the
soldiers. Let us be charitable. It was not
that Governor Pico was afraid; he fled that the
name of Pico might not be disgraced by sur-
render."
The door was flung wide open.
"The Americans — they are here?"
The girl's face was bright with excitement,
and her whole body seemed aquiver with a fear
Si exhilarating that the very entertaining of it
was an enjoyabh sensation.

Black were her eyes— black as the long lashes
that fringed their velvet depths, black as the
silky sheen of her raven tresses. The cherry tint
of her curving lips, the crimson glow in her olive
cheeks, but echoed back the vivid red of the single
rose in her hair.

It was for such as she that Spain became the
garden of chivalry. The land she had never seen
had given her a heritage of beauty, of the type

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW „
which generations befniv> i,.j • .
knights Md jovousT^.h'^ "'"'"'' ''""°'^
painters, singera!^ tr^*^*^- Soul-thriUed
^e in tlleir S's^de^'"? J»d seen such as
duction on canvas ta ve^^l? """^ °^ "P"*-

. reserve of the woodS.7^Jr :. °"^ ""y ""e
vacity, held in ^^Zj^^' fl°°<3-tiding vi-

tions; witch^^'^.'^^fV'"'"'''' °^ g™*™"
ove^weHnglc^L^o^r^-Wued hy the

'fie Don rose and Idssprf r™ »
head, lingerini. =. 1 ^^° °n the fore-

caressingiri? L^^' to touch her C^
^^ectio^fe XZ S gr t/T r *» ^
thmg of sadness markedT^^ * ^^'^^^^ ^'"e-
it had ^e chasteni^f^i^/o^T-:- """«''

ofy"th"'Tir:;;^S''-*thrSuheranc«

boson, heaved*'^^^t.:S'hrr- «'''
<J«npIed with all the t^LS^- i n ''*™ arms

and her eyes .kneed wft^^K^ ^"^"^ °^ y°«h.
fasdnatiOTs '""^'"^tmg youth's myriad

wa^^n^tep^r: '^^^^^ easy, graceful
the plaza, clSL^ ZZT "^^ °^' ™

we wiU look out. -n^^f- * ""*• Here

I beheve, but their ^3^ ^^ »«» '^U.

I ays are not our ways, and

14 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

it may be that there are rough and ungodly men
among them."

Turning a bend of the roadway, the head of the
column swtmg into full view, and heralding it
the blare of the band flooded the drowsy square.
Vaingloriously it clashed to the inner recesses
of mansion and hut, as though boasting of the
bloodless and inconsequent tri imph. Arillo
smiled at the grotesqueness of the situation.
What a fanfare for such an undisputed conquesr-t !

Leading the column, three horsemen entered
the plaza; then, marching four abreast, their
shf • t muskets aslant on their shoulders, came
the solid squares of sailors, clean and natty in
their uniforms of white and blue. After them,
from out a cloud of yellow dust, the slow-swajdng
oxen dragged the trundling guns.

"Ah, the sailors from the American war ships.
They march well for seafaring men," said Don
Jos6 Antonio as he peered through the partly
opened shutters.

"Who are those behind the sailors? They
look so fierce and wild," questioned Loreto,
gazing over her father's shoulder.

At the head of the second division rode a tall
man on a great black horse, his battered slouch
hat well down over his thin, bearded face. Behind
him, their rifles slung over their backs or resting
across their saddles, came a motley group in

-^ 'Xr^'-

^fm.-'''i

THE PACE AT THE WINDOW »

uncouth Parh C,r.«_

•»^aven faces ^H^tT'^n*^^^ '^- ^'^
over their shouldL * hr", -^ '"^««"8
jerkins, with here a^f hi. , *^<^ bucksJdn
*frt. their capsTf ^1^!^ " ^"t"^ ""'' "^^
•^Wnd. bespoke 4rw' ""* *^^ *»oping
and the fur tafe '"»"'«'»«». the plainsi^f

"'- -ith °tsttS^;,:w"* ""* *^«^^ tri!
air. A sailor st^L'^Sn'^r^ "*« 1"i«
» i«k of his wriSt<S2 SV:f" ""* "**"
fO'»d. There was no^. I 5"*'*"ng to the
Sefiora AriBo sobSd «!^^ f '^'"« «>« act.
the window. The bL-f ^ *"™^ ^''ay fre„
but he was sil«t ^ZV """ """"^'fi^.
fluttered upward. ^™^ °^ the stars

Wild ringing cheers from the Am •
plaza, repeated again and '"^'^^^cans in the

band struck up a d^„^ ^f™' ^<J then the
•»u«c. The ^n,,:"^:? -^f r,^ triun,phant

^Pl^V all of QUifonSa b^d L "^^ "^
•can possession. ^^ '*«»»» an Amer-

f'^te^^rw"'*^!''- ^- «•« «^' 'eaned

the flagstaff, ^d^lv T °" **" 8n>up near

^^ly uiterested was she tto

E,^-

i6 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

when she turned it was to look suddenly and
directly into the eyes of an American officer who,
during the maneuvering, had quietly stopped his
horse close to the veranda.

Erect, handsome, and well groomed, there was
in his fresh young face, buoyant with the ease of
perfect physical health, an expression of pleas-
ing affability, somewhat in contrast with the
air of cool self-reliance and quiet determination
suggested by the deeply cleft chin, set strongly
imder his heavy blond mustache. Perplexed with
deep thought, he was almost frowning under his
visored cap when his gaze uprose to meet that of
the girl. At once his deep blue eyes beamed with
an artist's pleasure at the sight of sudden and
imexpected beauty, and yet he was not guilty
of even the semblance of a smile.

Instinctively his hand touched his hat in
respectful salute, and deferentially he reined his
horse away. The startled girl closed the shutter
with a snap that seemed almost vicious in its
haste. He stared at the closed window for a
moment, and then passed on reluctantly towaid
the Plaza Church.

"May the good God grant that they do not
take our house for their headquarters," muttered
Don Jos6 Antonio.

Lieutenant Jack Carroll said to himself, "By
Gad!"

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW .,

Back to the open plaza floctert .h.
from the hfll camrthe InT;.^ ^ ** P*°P'«:
brown faces ^4« „„ "^^ *"? P^"'- "^
excited groups th^uZeTt J?^*^.'^ "
watched the saflo!; 'X^'°^^ °^« »d

ST^f rP"'"'°-« for the Jer^Tm^S^jZ

its busia^frth^l f^ew fl ° """' '"~"'
the city of Our Lad^ „f ,J^^ ^ "^^^d °ver
th^ co^fieldsTo^WH ""'.^S^' "-ere were

in the orchards ZT'i^^ri^ "P* P^^«^
ready for the piddng ^^ "^ ^<»t

wf^tts'^^l^^^-^^^s faded to
the rugged range-toT^^^'^'^;™'^"- ^^^ind
of gold, sUd ^tfyon'^Z^V^l"^ "^
radiance of oran J In,, ^ °^'^ * ''""ting
the arched bC S^T^' ^^8 "P to
sUver-showered^^e ^^i^'^T^' H"
open Plaea, the blanlcet^Z^tf^^ T ""'
men, the dark grouo of tJ^ u * ^'^P'"^
■^tlessly. and tte fi^ '?'^ ^'^ *«ffling
moved silently back^ tJ^ T""' ^^ "^^^
fnmt of the churd, th^.T^'. ^^ *">« dark

of wheels. From the St "^ " *^sle
^ caught the ^^pS'.r^'oidT:-^^

= ' ^ ■ 1 f 11

r'^--'WW

i8 THE DONS OF THE OLD PuEBLO

for a moment, then let it fall limply to the
staff.

The occupation of Los Angeles was complete.

Lieutenant Carroll turned away for a stroll
in the quiet night. His responsive heart warmed
at the memory of the incident before Arillo's
window, for aside from the romance of it his
artist's mind was thrilled with the vision of the
girl's entrancing beauty.

"Wouldst know thy future, sefior? Wouldst
know thy future?"

A blind and withered Indian woman sat on a
doorstep, garbed in rags and surrounded by
sundry evidences of squalor.

The lieutenant ropped a bit of silver into her
palm, — the first, perhaps, she had possessed in
many a day.

"God took my eyes, but to me the Holy Mother
makes the future clear," she explained in guttural
Spanish, with exclamations of the most profuse
gratitude.

"Good stranger," she said, as she held his
hand, "alas that one so generous should suffer so.
Thy heart shall be crushed as by a stone, and blood
shall smear thy path. The great hearts whom
thou reverest shall be humbled; she who loves
thee shall pray for thy death. Sad, sad, and
long is the way, and filled with woe."

"It is fortimate that at this particular time no

THE PACE AT THE WINDOW „

one loves me," soliloquized Carmll ^.u
amused smile. '^'""^ <-arroU, w,th an

"Thy heart shall be >-m<,h~i i.
The sunlight wfflmm! TT f ^^ » «»<»«•
the night of Zl^V^^. 1° •* fo"""^ by

danldng cSinTT^/T,t*^P *^ '™* in
-aainslhS^J^lff" »^* strife, and

aKtany. "P****^- as though chanting

asuperstittauscStic^Z^^ T^' *°"*«1
»_the man's sU «»ewhere deep down

orili" *^'' "*"*• S"** woman, ceasel" h«
Stay, and hear aU— stay— "

at the AmScf -s „r i""°"' '~™' ^^'i^'tly
^mencan s apparent ereduHty

Of Srst»S "°' '"V°°'' ^ «-« "^^tails

blue eyes^Sr^^rStuU^^r""^'
■--ive mould of his f^ts^^Z.^^^^^

■fit'

ao THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

of blond hair, in strange contrast with the coppery
glow of his cheek.

Irritated by the unspoken insolence of the
man's scrutiny, Carroll was about to speak
when the listener, the ^gravating sneer still on
his heavy mouth, shrugged his shoulders indif-
ferently and strode away.

That night, wearied by the long march of the
day, the lieutenant dropped quickly to sleep, but
it was a sleep of strange, distorted dreams, in
which two faces came and went in tumultuous
confusion, — the gladdening memory of the girl
at the casement and the lowering visage of the
unknown eavesdropper. Ever through the fleet-
ing mirage of his visions floated the fancied
croonings of the Indian woman.

"Thy heart shall be crushed as by a stone.
Friendship shall walk in chains. Sad and long
is the way, and filled with woe."

CHAPTER II

"BUTENANT JOHN CARKOLL

"Oh the time I 've ipent in wrWn.
In ovwg and puffii° ''°°"«'

Hil«hir«'"^«wSmen'.eye.
Has been n,y heart's undSi?^

'iltedtohinselfmlfeCofa'^ headquarter.
«««d of his own voioTfa ,^1* ^ V"" 'he
"ubbom knot oTa b^dle nf ""f "* ««" *
down, and ^umed mS;;f I»^»t. laid it

" m,«, jloomy Kienc sough, „,
I scorned the !„;, she t'j;';^.

He fold^ ^ '^'' •>»""«*• «- -oman^fLH-"
a^d'SL^e:„^5^'««^- '"^ '' » " d^wer.

But Jack Carton's undoing had not ^
a=nous affair, and there Jl % "^^ * ''e>7

-.sdom than Vouth/^ToCt Cd °' "^"•"
face-a face that mdiated w4,^^^' ''°""«
happiness. ^'h, heartiness, and

Ocropied with the routine worJr nf .v
he had not noticed the apptoachTa l^tC;;

|p:5

aa THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

garbed lan who hcic! entered the stockade. The
newcomer was attired in the height of Mexican
fashion, — bell-mouthed trousers of black broad-
cloth, open on the side and laced to thft knee,
short rounded jacket of blue velvet bright with
gold braid, a flowing crimson sash, and vide
curved-brimmed sombrero heavy with silver fila-
gree. Over his shoulder hung gracefully the long
folds of a dark blue scrape.

The Califomian glanced inquiringly at Commo-
dore Stockton, who had just stepped out on the
veranda. Then his grave face returned Carroll's
genial smile.

"Have I the hon,r of addressing the American
commander?" he asked in Spanish, with a formal
bow.

The commodore, a large-faced man with graying
tuft^ of hair in front of his ears and a high, arched
nose, eyed the stranger's rich raiment with an
insolent stare.

"What is this gorgeous individual sajdng, lieu-
tenant?" he inquired, turning to Carroll.

The young officer rose, and returned the Cali-
fomian's bow. "Whom have I the pleasure of
addressing?" he asked in fluent Spanish.

"Don Jos6 Antonio Arillo, formerly alcalde, of
the pueblo."

"Oh, explain that to him," broke in the com-
modore, waving his hands toward the papers on

UEUTENANT JOHN CARROLL „
the table, "and tell hi^ ♦

hi. friend. to.mo,^w„d«lT' '™™><' "^
•Wot. be seated," ^itT^r "f.-'*^<» "••

P«-Wo a« expect toln'^Tr',,""" °' ">«
yen. " "80. I shaU read it for

hile?r«r^*»;j^t^;'^^3ees, and binds
against the miKtai^^"' ''^<»-' »?' t° «rve
nor to give aid «Z^ °' .** "'"««d States,

"It « our intentiW-T "'.^^ni*'
a" those who Wra;,yty^'»"«'. ":'<' •»-
e-Mnected with dvil ^V^^ "' ""^ time been
late govenm,«t rf oZ^ ^"^^ •»<•<* the
In return we have tStZTtn"'^ *"' P"™'"-
y»uf pmperties and -ZL I ,?T^ 5"^ that
We only ask that the ta^ 1^ "^ ''^P^ted-
^hall n^ain the «Se r»^/''^«'J- All laws
the e^geneies of nuK^^' wTs°^,^ '"
pleased to have you ^..f • ^* """'"''J >»

r^er'»--^^-r^rr"^
^h^s^^^Xerjt?-:;-^--".

f^.\

\4^'?i^a' Wiits-.-^iSJi

14 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

meaningless disturbances of the last few years.
I do not exaggerate, seflor, when I state that
among the genu di rason your coming is not
unwelc(Mne, and I — "

Stockton interrupted his flow of sonorous
Gistilian.

"What is he saying, lieutenant? My Spanish
is rusty."

"He says the Spanish people are glad we are
here."

"Humph," remarked the commodore. "I'll
believe that when we recover those cannon Castro
made away with."

Arillo turned his great dark eyes half scornfully
on Stockton; then, frowning a little, he bade
Carroll a courteous farewell, and walked slowly
out the stockade gate.

The lieutenant leaned back in his chair and
gazed dreamily at the sunlit square of the stockade.
Incidents of the past few days, though seemingly
monotonous, had been eventful to him at least.
In the still air of the City of the Angels he seemed
to feel the presence of an overwhelming fate.

But yesterday he had attended mass at the
Plaza Church, and an event which under ordinary
drctmistances would have seemed trivial had been
the occasion of setting his whole being a-tingle
with romantic expectancy. His erect figiu-e,
dad in its uniform of blue, was the object of

"EUTENANT JOHN CARROLL „

1«. church h.l^,!^«°"«'''»' ot th. «.,:

mind veiy bu.y^'^ifrl "" '*^"- »^
'ong-Sono year. ^L '^"^ "»""*« of

VO' clear to Wm«T.^u ?^ '''°«' «"<•
remembered eirf,H! ""f? "'«*• the well-
the same in e^^^ T^ °' »" ch"che»,

boyhood, and tt^^*^: ^„f^ff days of his

a pair of wondrous bll:^ eye,^ ^f* »'°
'"""g. appealine ou«n~,- '^ ^* open,

admiring, tha sA w« ! •' "*" ""' ^»^ a^ost

tips. Then ^tiratJTlitT'"^ '° "^ «»«"
of infinite grace the T^ I movement, full

Cosor a«.-X; h^d^itr ttTtt'T"'.'*
nioving crowd. "^ ^^® slowly

thi^t^e'trSler"' T"^ '"""'^ *»"ard
girl's r.jZ^'V^^ "^for* him again the

haironhertempl^^dL^'' "^^ "^ '"'^S

^ "ashes as h^'gti^trf:^:f°-„^

g m tfte slight upward tilt of the brows.

26 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

Surely, it was a gleam of recognition? Where
had those eyes looked into his before, not with
longing, inquiring gaze, but with startled dismay?
Then with a sudden illimiinating flash came the
memory of the face that had vanished from the
window the day the troops arrived in the pueblo.
"You're lookin* mighty solemn, lieutenant."
Carroll looked up to meet the quizzical eyes
of a tall frontiersman in buckskin coat, who was
doing sentry duty at the stockade gate.

"Hello, Jim Marshall," he said, cordially,
"what do you know to-day?"

Between the warm-hearted yoimg lieutenant
and the grizzled trapper had spnmg up a warm
and sudden liking. Alone in one another's com-
pany, their conversation was marked by a famil-
iarity which ignored the formalities usual between
an officer and an enlisted man.

"Wa-all," drawled Jim, after a hurried glance
about him, "this war ain't run quite to suit me.
The weather's a trifle warm, rations ain't exactly
a Paris menoo, our boys is drinkin* too much
wine, the fleas is workin' overtime, the commodore
ain't been givin' me his entire cooperation. Still,
I call this pueblo a fair to middlin' place. Now
these high-class greasers has pretty good stuff
in them."
Carroll suppressed a chuckle.
"Yes, siree. Thar's that old sport, Seiior

LIEUTENANT JOHN CARROLL „
Afiilo, that was in here ", - --.
mth the saver dewdad Tu-"^°°°' ""« 8™*
*«•» all right, ^y -a? r' "°''S- ^'^ b*'
^"^ didn't have it a. "" . T ^«^8ton
ft^tty sweU people. that'^S' ""Z^ ^f^^-
« the rest of thm>- JT^ , ^v«r met any
«»PhaticaUytoguii Marshall's grin w^

*veu, lieutenant Ipf t«« * n

That -ere family o'w^t t"e f^ T ^"^"^S-
beauty of this 4,p Tht M-"-"!°"'^d-doIlar

young bucks aroun*^ h^e j^'^'^^^i^ *e
aU ready to throw tbJZsZdTJ' J""^'"'
the groond for her to wS ^n J ^^^ °°
see_ nary one of them. ""* ** "1°»''

Circas^"tL„tJ^^,«^^ '^ « Pnmny ^ona and a

according to the custom ^f i° °°*- "^o" ^.
flowers is bom to ht^ J'"' """'-7 thes^

There ain't no goL-to'Sy'Slt' ^ '' ^''^■
«P an' spoonin- after O^lt^f^,^"'- an'sittin'

■ike bacic in the ft^es r ^"^^ *° '^•

aUey-wuz doL'l^l ^i'™^ °™^ thar in the
captain that day beZd 2^"^ "°^^ ^°' the
out of an old ad^at tZ^,""^' * '^
■n particular, when T T i. ^'°°S *« no one
'hat's the h^S^J, !r f'' ""^ *^ ^^-^dy-
'he day we b^'^^^^^^j '"^^ ^er hoss Lu,

»^<- an Old grimly H.;^e:rir^°r;

>:<

<<i! If . .'I

28 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

looks as I kin at her out of the tail of my
eye, and say, lieutenant, that girl is sure a
humdinger."

Quite carried away by his own eloquence,
Marshall continued, "Why, if I wasn't akeady a
family man, with one squaw jerkin' venison and
buffalo meat for me in a tepee up on the Snake
River, and another on the Truckee, an' if I was
twenty years yotmger, it would be me for Miss
Arill'."

Carroll started like one awakened from sleep.
This was the girl at the window, the seiiorita he
had seen at mass. He had met her father this
afternoon.

"Yes, siree," continued Marshall, "you'd see
me under her window with a banjo or a fiddle,
or sumthin' that 'ud make music, rippin' her
heart's strings out with bars from 'Pop Goes the
Weasel,' or 'Turkey in the Straw,' or sumthin'.
Yes, siree, and nuthin' short of a kettle of bihn*
water or a blunderbuss loaded with nails would
keep me from movin' right into the Arillo family
an' campin'. After she'd give me the peace
sign, or throwed me a kiss or sumthin', I 'd walk
right up to the front door an' rap, an' if the old
man opened it I 'd stick my foot in so 's he could n't
close it, and say, 'Mister Arillo, me an' yer darter
is plumb engaged, and ye may as well get used
to it."

UEUTENANT JOHN CARROLL .
, "Marshan." asked Carroll with . ^

'-^■^^CZ'.Z^^r^^ that's a

CHAPTER III

A CRY IN THB DARK

""QARKNESS comes already," said Senorita
•*-^ Loreto Arillo as she drew her rebozo around
her, and rose to her feet. "Surely have I stayed
too late." She had indeed lingered long at the
home of her good aunt, Dona Chonita.

"Santa Maria, child! Thou wilt not venture
out alone? Wait a few minutes, and Don Fer-
nando will arrive and he will escort thee. There
are always these noisy Americans, shouting and
drinking beyond the plaza. I can hear them
often at night over by the wine shops. Por Dios,
but they are a strange people!"

Loreto seated herself on the bench by the
window, and for a moment was silent as she
nervously plaited a fold in her skirt. Then she
said in a low tone, her face filling with a soft,
dreamy light :
"Ah, Tia Chonita, they are not all like that."
"That I do not know. Let us hope not. But
they are rough and imcouth — those that I have
seen."

The girl smiled with che confident wisdom of
youth. Her aunt was old-fashioned, and there
was much that she did not know.

A CRY IN THE DARK

"But T' T ^"

^ Child, child, I will ««^ 1.

<J«wn howl came from ,.^''.^^. as a lone-

fance to meet tl,; bT^^C'.*'"" "^Shtst
^"ch nights as these-liS,***^,''"- ^"» "•

■iia nune, tell nie nf u- "J^^sity.

^-^sJ^^-^-^see'^^.^''---
r^er, yL^:^^' -■ -er; but my
When a new gove^J^/^ " ,«:^. Loreto.
'^npng with him man?? ^^'^^^ Gty,

-"f officer in gay do7es r """"« ««""«»««
8^'. but weU do I Cemt l"^ °^y ^ littie
weeks they held Tf^^tf b'r "" "^° **<"«
"ent house and bull fighTs jn ^f ' ," """ S°™™-
your home to the noTSZ t "'l^^ '«y™d
governor came he wS ;Lt-?"'*- With the
Matador, for, unlike othn^T ^ *« ^'^
*«^d in gay colors butS„ "f*""' ''" "^ °ot
«>me he was. but, oi.t Str"."**" "^"l-

--tmanhew.,:,-trht'Sr:?^

32 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

grieving eyes never answered the warm glances of
the many beautiful sefioritas who looked with
kindness upon him.

"Never in the bull ring was hand so sure or eye
so true as his, and they said of him — the ladies
that watched him with kindness in their eyes —
that his somber garb was but the outward sign
of his broken heart. Many bulls he killed,
always with that one, swift, stire stroke, but when
he looked up at the wild huzzas and the flowers
that rained down upon him, there was no pride
or joy in his pale face. He saw the coming of his
fate, it is believed, for on the day that he died he
made confession of all his life to Father Linares.
How it happened it is hard to tell. Some say that
he stood as one in a dream; others, that his hand
was not sure, and that he missed his stroke, for
the bull caught him on his horns and tossed him
high in the air, while the men groaned and the
women covered their faces with their hands.
Then the big beast trampled his black figure
into the sand, and when they picked him up,
his face was gone — no sign of featiu-es was there
left!

"Ah, how my mother would shudder when she
told the tale! Buried he was in the Campo
Santo to the north, but he does not sleep wdl,
for many a time he has been seen, but always,
always, is his face covered with the comer of his

A CRY IN THE DARK

black cloak, as if he wiBed t),.f

see it." "™*° ™t no man should

face covered ^tt^l i?"'"^?«' J"', and his
never could le be bZJf °' "= ''o-k- But
the very memory oliT^t 1 "T^ "^ '»• for
And often W^I h<L^ht k '.'"" «° P*-
to others. Always, ^'""'^ ""^ "PP^^d
Snef and sorrow, s.^ pw ttet "'^^ »«»°*
you may never see w^^ ~? V-'g". child, that

«° but a foolish p^iinJ^r- ""™- '"^^ ^
tbee such tales." she?ddX°^ "ZT'r '^«

^^rve^n ""^'^' -^"l^" ^S

^ th.1,, ^, am^oun^h^I^^r:;

W:K-l^C^«»ta. Mother does not

is but a step up 7e st-^H .t ^^ '°' «»«• It
there a smart m„,^'r^'*° ""f ?>«». and from
Tb^-* was ^o^^«"^^»y own door."
cloudless, the blnr^^h l "^ '"^ and
With quivering sul X T''"^'* scintillating
fbadowy bre.^S'tf th^ol^'^ '*°"«' " "^
h.bUydownthestep:lrr^-S„,J^P;n«

imiM«toi :-f\»'

34 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

entrance of the plaza, and then, with a wildly
beating heart, she raced toward the veranda of
her own home, dimly seen in the darkness.

Out of the shadows lurched a shambling figure;
a hand caught her shoulder, and a rough voice
gurgled in her ear in badly accented Spanish:
"Don't hurry so, little one."
She screamed in terror, and throwing oS the
rebozo, which the man held firmly in his grasp,
she tried to dart away, but it was caught in the
fastening of the brooch at her neck. The man
laughed gleefully as, holding it in one hand, he
stepped toward her.

Close at hand and out of the darkness came a
tall man. Loreto saw dimly the forward thrust
of his shoulders, the stiffening of his neck and
head, and heard the vicious smack of knuckles
meeting flesh and bone. The ruffian tottered
to the ground; then he scrambled to his feet and,
with a roar like a bellowing bull, threw himself
on the newcomer, belching brutal oaths. Like
two pistol shots John Carroll's two fists landed
full and fair on his face and jaw. With a shudder
of pain, the man sank again to the ground, this
time motionless.

For a moment the girl clung to Carroll's arm,
sobbing hysterically; then, as she glanced upward
through the tears glistening on her cheeks, the
light of recognition came into her eyes, though

A CRY IN THE DARK

th^ d^taes, hid the r^ m^,'"~, ^^^

^jOh-h-hl" Therewasx^efandgladnessinher
"Do not fear, sefiorita- he wJti „•

Latin races yields oX to tL ""r^ °^ ^^^

her heart. In lat mn^ ! u^ "^^^ ^^ ^on
Arillo was his °°''''* ^« ^^^ Loreto

his encircling im for^^tf o^^ ^"^^ ^^
aU^^the trach^i:::^/^^^^^^^ with

No, sefiorita." He I M h^^ P^opie.
and she became mo:::^^^" -^ ""^ll^y'
bW. and can hardly stand " "" '^■

hef^eSlTow'^S^^^ T^ *^'"^«' "-"
<3mverof av^^IeTattl^Jr^' T «>«
He thre,:. the door ok^ al? ^ *"*"**•
Seflora AriUo aooelL^- T ' ^ ^* *d so,
hand. ATtte SifV'*?^ "^""^ » he;
olose to the blue "^I'^f ^"t*"- ^-^^
«=«amed in horror h,^ \^ Amencan, she
norror, bnngmg Don Jos4 Antonio

36 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

rujjhing into the nxmi, his usuaUy placid face
full of alann.

"Take your hands off my child," Seftora AriUo
cned.

But Loreto threw herself on her mother's
breast, sobbing— sobs that broke into half-
hystencal laughter.

"Mother, mother, speak not so to him. He
•'aved me from a man, an awful man, who tore
my rebozo off in the darkness," and she hid her
flushed face on her mother's arm.

Dcm Jos6 Antonio was the first, to grasp the
situation^ In Ce. , n he recognized the courteous
young officer ox ....^ headquarters, and his face
lighted with pleasure. Grasping the soldier's
hand with both of his, he pressed it wannly, and
said m a voice full of feeling:

"I can find no words, believe me, sefior, to
express our thanks and gratitude for your gallant
conduct. You are indeed welcome to our home
now ^d always. It is aU yours, sefior. Seflora
Kmz de Anllo, my wife, Lieutenant CarroU "

The seftora ga/e him her hand, and her words
echoed her husband's warm thanks and courteous
greetmg.

"Ah, sefiora," said the American, as he bowed
over her hand, "I see plainly now why your
daughter IS so beautiful. She is so by the divine
nght of inhentance."

A CRY IN rtrs DARK

For the day, whaT&fl^ 7^*^ '""' P'«»«"«.
Ruiz. wa. the "f^^J^"- ">!" Seflorita
twenty year, ag^Tlt^ t ^ '^""°- *''°"«'>
>» to any womm oft ''"' " ^^ "^d
t™ly. in the S 1-H T;T '"™'°'^- And

•^auty that had Mt a^,^ t ""'='' »' the
the «tays of the p^j °^* ""« ^eart, of men in

Caii^»%^'2°? 5:',V^'n<»t -^ a
you are an Ame„"c^ - ^^ '" "' '» ^^Ueve

that-I vm not say ttat f^^u"*"- '^°' "°t

• »"e AmericaL^ • 'Xm r *^' """
a^^mied." °°^ ^ am truly

"True, sefior," said Ar,ii«
are both good ^d ^^ ^""^y- "There

devil has h^ J^ "^ ^'"""^ ^ nations. The
Jr „ ^^ o^ everywhere." ®

t^rroU glanced at his watch «r,^

••inTittr::^-'«-v-tSd^rctl:t^:

«^t appeared withlriST^ ^"^^ ""> ^

'.e«idrhe'::*^r^:?ir"^>'''

*"» gxass, and may we have

I I:-

38 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

the very great pleasure of seeing you often in
our home."

"The pleasure will, for me, indeed be great,
Sefior Arillo," repUed CarroU seriously, and he
looked into the eyes of the girl, whose answering
gaze -net his without evasion.

He rose to go, and as he took Loreto's hand in
his he raised it boldly to his lips. Childishly she
hid her face against her mother's arm. He met
the sefiora's look of displeasure with one of reso-
lute, good-natured defiance. In the custom of
the land and of the time, he was now an avowed
suitor for the hand of Loreto Arillo.

"Truly a fine young man, that," observed Don
Jos6 Antonio as he lighted a long black cigar and
resumed his seat at the table. "How well he
speaks Castilian,— with just the sUghtest trace
of accent."

Sefiora Arillo was in a brown study. All too
plainV she had read the telltale look in her daugh-
ter's lace, and the proud but kindly defiance and
glad confidence in the blue eyes of Carroll. Her
position, her power as a mother, had been ignored.
Her irritation grew ; her face became firm and hard.

"It is sad to think such a fine young man is a
heretic," she said, purposely mimicking her hus-
band's words.

"Ah! but mother, he is not," protested Loreto,
her face flushed with eager gladness.

A CRY IN THE DARK

^^Z^Z^^U^T: '^'W^. What h "

"Nothing. Ztl^L i.^d'iS^r"' H^'y-
I»rt of the questiOT llT ^ "^ ""• «"'
sudden mischirf "" '^^ "^ «t with

"I have n^ersnTkt ^""^.T"*""" '*'°«''"

to-night. Oh moZ, .. ^'""" '^^U before
•p- t- ■ t™'^' "hat a manhp i.i u
Bmg. bing,' and he feU like » rf.!^ . "°'''

over." she prattled menify " ^ "*• ^' ^<^

Can^U befoj^l^afattnce^ "'^ ^«-
At mass, mother."

Andtho.ha!?l^ttt:hhf*^ ^^'
^---an Arnerican and a Sretfe "* ^^" '^^'^

"Ah. mothefmither? tlT'^^'^-^''-
an the daughte; of Eve aslTorf" T^""^ °^
even as thine eyes stmv^ *' ''"""'' '^'^
little thou cared L thl^^^ "^'' « «»«' ^d

at whom thT^^c^'^f""^*- °^ "<" he
"Ti,*.^ ^^ancea was a heretic or no "

There were no heretics in CaliforSaTn those

40 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

days. The times are changed, and not for the
better."

"He is not a heretic," persisted Loreto, her
face f uU of mischief, but her head held low as she
idly twisted a silken ribbon in her white fingers.

"But how knowest thou? Speak; has he told
ineer

"I told thee that I have never exchanged words
with him before to-night," she said, with exas-
perating slowness.

"Loreto," snapped her mother, "thou wouldst
try the patience of a s^t. TeU me how thou
knowest, or thou shalt be sent to bed."

"When a man bends his head at the ringing of
the mass beU, even as we do, he can be no heretic,"
she repUed, her triumphant gaze searching her
mother's face.

"Ah, is it so?" said Don Jos6 Antonio with
mterest. It was plain that the news was not
unwelcome to him. "I do not doubt it, and I
do not marvel now that I liked him from the
first.

^ But Sefiora Arillo was stubbornly incredulous.
Never, never, have I known of an American who
was a CathoUc. Frenchmen, yes; Germans, Irish-
men, even Enghshmen have I heard of who were
of the true faith— but Americans, never. I do
not beheve it. No, he is a sharp young man
and polite,— that I can see,— so in church he does

A CRY IN THE DARK

iust as the others do "r •

and admirable " ^ graceful of him,

home in the church " ^ ^® ^^ at

land or Ma. and ^ttoh,^t ,**" "*"«• **» on
melodies, of 43^^'°"i"!'* ^P»K «c«t

CHAPTER IV

THE SON OF LEO THE STIUNGER

ame moment everv m^^' "^ ^t the

«tu^ at the Z7,:^J' ^l P-«-Uy
gious regularity Ev»r„ v ^'^ *^°*' '"^ reM-

Bom and .afaed in^l m ''' ^"^ '° "° °*er
stem old "itch bu^g":^"L"';f°f '°"°' °^
ancient nam>wness bu" nonttf tt ^. ^ *^
of ready adaptability th^t hi. T ^^ '^'^'^
S««. in aU liids and in^ri .^ ^" ""^ ^™g
the Puritan ^d Mg^'" l"'^ • °' '^"^ ~"^ °^
Poi^ul dignity of t& ,1°.?" ^, ^«>t.
^as but the sultiness rf^ **"'' * ''<«'*

their «,Iorful gT^^ Ity S":" '^^ "'''
the average man of the^^^it '^'"*''- ^^
he despised and iZsX^"' T^f'

;^. and to him there w^ butTttle H**-'^^'"
between the Dons ;„ ,fc« ""' "ttle distinction

'«eed their d«^t fr^ T^^"' ''^'' P--»"dIy

the sunburnt plains ^" ''^*'^ fro»

Much to his g,.tification. two of the guns

^^^^^"^ '°^ O^ ^EO THE STRANGER ,3
Z^. "'^TSt^?.^ '"^«' flight wel'

■" hfng at their ra^^^JT^'o- "^o had been
™e by one and withoMa^^ ch.-T"^' "'"""l
Pf «"es not to bear ani^^ i^"»» gave their
f 'a««- In charge ^e^.*«*^ the United
«"« bringing hii inVot^^f,'^*^ P^H
men of the pueblo, was n. . * *" ""^ leading,
fonn«.ly of t.fe M^^^?^'J»haCam,lf
fnative dignity of Te J^T ^*"'«™ the
brusqueness otcZtZ J^'^^^'i ^ S^
'^"""alityandhis^^^"';- Cam.ll's ta^
dunng n^y yea^"^llCastiaan, acquired
^ways as a buffer, tho^h^r*." ,^"'"'' =tood
ta». with his cust^mar^L *" ^*- the cap.
unaware. "^ obtuseness. was utter^

Gillie's first offi * i
P«.cIamation dZ^di^^ T *« ^"^ of a
f^ and ammunition^ t^. /"^'^«' °f all
fes. Gatherings otL^,^-^^'^ authori-
vate, were forbMd^ ^^LT*^ ^"^'^ »' Pri-
had been given. nTZl^'f '"^ ^t
to keep within doors aft^.^'' ""-^ '^ed
nation ended withl^^^^^f .'•.»<> the procla-
any ' conduct prej„di<S^'!f^^""<=tion against
•^tions, however ^f°^.»°'«ls" P~c-

f°Ple of the pueblo ^v^5"^ r" *» the
»d went their ways m^'L^^^ "-iably.

44 THE DONS OP THE 01 D PUEBLO
As the captain sat at a paper-strewn table in

^\^ ^^ ?l°^ *^^ "^°^ ^ t^« 1°°« adobe
to the nght of the open stockade, his tight-fitting
blue jacket buttoned close, though the day was
swdtenng, his narrow back stiffly erect, the single

h'S ^ *^T^ ^ "^"^""y "^^'^^ ^oss his
bald head, he was the veiy embodiment of mili-

taiy exactitude. As he wrote, his hand plucked
restlessly at his nervous underlip. Suddenly he
put down his pen, glanced at his watch, and
steppmg to the door, spoke to the sentry-

"It IS ten o'clock. Brooks, notify the sergeant
to bring from the guardhouse the priscners
arrested last night." «»^"cr5

The marine saluted, marched across the sunny
square of the stockade, and in a few minuti
returned with a score of prisoners. Lieutenant
Carroll appeared from the next room and, pen
m hand, took his place at the table. He was
followed m a moment by Second Lieutenant
bomers. a somber-faced man with a bushy head
of ruddy hair, and a world of melancholy in his
deep-set gray eyes. Here, daily. Captain GiUie
as provost marshal under mihtaiy rule, disposed
of the numerous cases brought before him.

Among the accused were young men who," guitar
in hand, had been arrested under the windows
of their seiioritas; others, whose sole offense was
that they had attended a family gathering for

THE SON OP .KO THB STK^OE. «
tne celebration of a rhr,=» •
fanchos. ab«„t from th SLT^"^ '""' '"e
?«1 mnocently ridden fat„ fo-- months, who
» their sashes; In<K^ '° 1, °"" '""' P^'ok
f the street by the^v^^^ "^ "toacated
^^ eyes still 4 f^riaTn?".""*' ""» P^"^.

Captain Gillie's w! ""^t's debauch

tion was har^'AS^S'^f" °' *^ P-^^^^-
«°d severe. Du„,b S'JT ''^"^ P«»npt
oners were fed away ZJT^"^'- «>« Pns-
theguanJhouse of the posT^ ^ sentences in

"hen the last of tho r »
Lieutenant CaroU sat ^Z^-,"** *'=P°«d of,
at the oppos.te ZlZa^^^f^'' ""^ng
heavy mustache. Forl;'^^ *! ^""^ °f his
»nously considering th^^vf ?',•'" ^ >««■»
suggesting to Capta^ oLir^^fy °^ >>oldIy
fymg his stringentTru^»,- '''^,'"«J°'n of modi-
of the pueblo. But f^!!'°°" ^ ">« governing

of the New Engti^et T!,*^ *"" ^'-^^
hearted Celtic t^^^f f. ^""'s warn,,
^ght sympathy b^^ ^ "^ °°t only
Such action, m^reo^^l ZJT^^''?'' '^'^■
flagrant breach of nS^JTit^*'" '^ * »ost
t^hi was a man who^^/"""*"*- The cap.
advice, and aU of d:^u?±r,r',°^ '^S f«
««gestions had not^i ^T f"^'^'' ^^^ed
scousness. Lieutenant loZ'^!'^ °" '^ «>»-

^es looked long and stea^^.^th^rT" ^^
4 ^ ^'^ *^e captain, but

46 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

he said nothing. He was a strangely silent
man. During his two weeks' association with
Gillie and Carroll he had never addressed them,
except in regard to necessary matters of military
routine.

The morning had seen but the average grist
of petty oflfenders of the lower class, but several
days before a score of the principal Dons of the
pueblo had been haled before the captain's court
and fined heavily for some trifling infractions of
the ordmances. The fines were paid with proud
promptitude, but the Califomians had left the
court room, their eyes flashing with rage, their
hps white with suppressed indignation. That
the attitude of the people toward the Americans
had changed in the last ten days, Carroll was
well aware. Their surly demeanor and averted
glances told only too plainly that they had come
to regard their conquerors with aversion and
distrust.

ITiere was trouble, too, within the stockade
With the exception of a dozen marines, the fifty
men of GiUie's command were the former Bear
Flag rebels; men whom the lure of the Wander-
lust had drawn to this western coast; men who
had fought the wild Indians of the plains, trapped
the wily beaver on the lonely reaches of unnamed
streams, and faced death in a hundred forms in
distant mountain canons. Poor material were

^, """ ^^ ">' ^=0 THE STRANGER ,,

the^'ci^la^.: ;S^.1S:r^*-'f«-« «o dear to
had been to him a long drf ^. *° ™P«^ them
■nen a roaring lucTw^T'^f^y ""1 »<> the
to be found fa ^LJ^"' °* •'"ty they were
Nigger AJley « th! i^ .k ** ""* '^« ^ops in
and hardly a dly p^St^ T " "' *"« P-^
d-^gged. fighting'1^;'*'^"»«"n"»«we,;

'"^r^o-i-th°^L^r"'^ »'"P'*

act«n^ t^r ^"^ °' »*«' Spanish char-
easy indolencTld " ^' *°<^"«»«. its
the man of •innei^'HS™ «»tempt ^"^
action. As he steDoedX,, f ^P^"* a°d

sunshine the soundTf,^ ""^ *^ """^g
came to him f«^ tl^ *,^«' /™nken choruf

he sighed wearil" ^^°" "' *« Pla^a. and

th^ itd"to° ^'"'tC.h""^'^"' *°"*''
across the stockade tkT? . ^ °P™ '^dw
MarehaU. ' ""* '*"<Jent voice of Jin,

s Jd Z S;a^^nlfl^P'r , don't under-
nuthin> but ordered™ ,! f""* understand
on startin. a stS.tup fi^t ""^ ^'t "uch
medicine if ye^h^h? 'l.''"* *hey is sure bad
enough. If f4™^'S^ '?« ""^g way long
heU apoppin^ in th,?!^ ^.''^''P' °n, thar'U be

Goodr5::tuX"i'f„°'^ « ^^'^ °' '^ ~

iH ■/■'

■

48 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

A few moments later the lieutenant encountered
MarshaU at the stockade gate. The frontiersman
was leading a horse, burdened with a roll of
blankets, from the folds of which the handles of
a pick and shovel protruded.

"Why, Jim," queried Carroll, as he eyed the
outfit curiously, "where are you going?"

"Jest off to the mountings for a little picnic by
myself. An old trapper like me gets kinda
restless here in town, with the houses and the
people acrowdin' him. " Something of embarrass-
ment was evident in Marshall's manner. As he
nervously fumbled with the butt of his rifle, his
tisuaUy straightforward gaze fell before the lieu-
tenant's keen scrutiny.

"I got leave of absence for two days from the
captain," he explained, after a moment's hesita-
tion.

"Bring us back some bear meat, Jim," suggested
the lieutenant as he turned away.

"Mebbe, mebbe." His leathery face twisted
m a curious grin, the frontiersman led his horse
on out the gate.

StiU smiling at MarshaU's unusual demeanor,
for It was quite evident the frontiersman had
something to conceal, CarroU strolled on idly up
the adobe-lined street. St ^lenly screams of
pain, and the sound of smacidng blows on bare
flesh, caused him to turn and gaze back towa'xi

THE SON OP LEO THE STRANGER „

quirt, seart^g ;^' J'I'I ^ »* the leathern

coveiTTo^d^*' ISr^ °" *« '^'^ Wood-
weaWvfn.fcT . "^y himself, climrinif

-as ^hea" S Srt.'"*, "'"'^ ^-«
vindictiveness. "^^^ ''"* "°'' <»««b«»te

sq^set'^y'^rl, TT^ *" '--in-
bound abou^^i, TJ^^lt'fZ "r "-

eve,m.g he had hearkened to^he^l"!^ ""!
the Indian woman. Prophecy of

the'^-tirf Jr"** "'""' ">« American gras,«d

-in:^4'r'»^"'^''°--'^«^t^

y<^: """•■' ''^ P«"«'ed. "you f„^
•^^tfth'^ht'^HelS ^"^ ""^ —

"the L • • •" '^'^'«> ^ a d«P ba^oj^'

the boy js my servant— he has i^a^ Z? '

May I not — " ^ disobedient.

• mi

50 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

and in the public stiw^/^ ' »erv«nt.-

Rid. on. ««or ." h. Z^"^^ °f • ^^ ^i
place you under arrest " ''^^^y* or I will

tos. of his sha^i; Jr i'hH::::'""""

the street tov ,rf the pUz, ^ •■"* """P

^_^^ nessea the encounter with a grim

'•Good work, lieutenant," he called "h .

better take keer of yerself T V- k " J"'" y*

ots about that ya JhSi i^'^^T^*

to me as full of nrMc«« ureaser. He looks

a bad one " "' P<»«»"" « ^Wer. ru bet he's

tBoughtfuuy ::w^a%ht"p^u:rhe r-/

haired man had disappeared H- *f. "°°'*-
lating as to the iden^^'thf * t!f '"" "P^""

'»biddi„«P««»Uitran1tLS:Temt^

C^S^'t*^

THE SON OP LEO THE STRANGER j,

"M^tod him from a noar-by veranda,
^t^hm^^'"'"*'^" •-'«"»««-«• Come

^ of friendly famili^^y "V^ ^e'^

"Wio is the caballero with the yel!o»- hair -!.„
P««<' ju'it a moment ago?- quSTwi.

San Mari„rH; k nofo^?,"''* °' *'''-■ ^^^o
^or. but a -mestl^'' a h^^^f "!? t "^•
a fojeigner and aallSUl^".^' ""^ ^ "^

|0-Au,nstm.smam,ertht:;to^J^^^^™
-nu,^ were rare u^'ciuZtr^^^^-J^^

i'l

^sm^^^^^immmm^-

5. THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO
Prom iTfaS ^vZ' T^ » ^°^-

and the feud between them." '

"Don Jos« Antonio Arillo'"

Alyaro's sharp eyes twinUed a little at th.
qmdc «terest evident in the lieutenam's 1^

The same-DonJos« Antonio. llTms
1*0 he continued, "was ambitious cle^ Zf

exiled to S^oCLX^oW ^'°°^° '^
of Arillo's ^^tT^'^'f^J^^

four years Leo held them, but wh^ AriSo r^;, ^
by stealth fo>m Sonora/and^to mS^ ^^"^
another revolution agii^ rt, ^^^

- i^-ed at the gr^^Xltle^S r ?^^
And the new governor gave back to TW^ x
Antonio the ^ncho of the S^ PaSuS^;^°t

father, nor Zi:^orJX.l Z'Z'^^t
with the unbehevable effront«y of his father! he

THE SON OP LEO THE STRANGER ss

•laoghter in cartas Tt^°."!.': *^<i "f hfe
«dded fuel to^t JZ f *^' *«'• ^ but

■•He hassle me2^i"^A"i°°^<'-
■»an Vanuela, for ll^Z^°' "*^*' >»» this
S«" Marino, 'and C, S S.""" *^ ^*°
cattle, hides, and tJSw to tJ^'f" ^"' »"*
on the coast. YetTtLT ^mencan ships
the ««,te <fe ^^^^ ^.«'"« no "an or woman of

Like his fath.^;^ ^° '~'«' ."^-"y upon him.
•x^People. Heis Wot^t"'T '^ *« "ays of

Father EstenagaoTlTpttrSf^-, ^''""S'"
»«. yet do I believe " w^ ^ ^"^^^ at
"that Leo, the fal^'ofT! °? ^" A«8»=tin,
by the devil or in Teale^^f v"^ '^^'^^
much reason for so thiS "voa ™- ™^ '^
lieutenant, the great r^^'tt,/ '^ ranember,
oak? We rodeTt^'fh'^''>""'y the giant
^n nodded ^ °"^ afternoon."
"That, seiior, is the Dew,!', n .

?r^- Much Z^^^ tt~ry * =P<"
beiore the coming of rt. ., ^^ ">* Indians
the.^ are but^rL 1?^^. ""^ ^» ^et
««.te<fer<B«,,whodonoti2^^ ^' *"" "^ the
the eva one. But rf ^,^Tr" *° ^ '°^«1 of
neither God mT ' *!' '»?' ^eo, who feared
''-«his'fZlte":<^^^''>^-ofe^

--nd about the San ptTu^,I^:,:;2j;n<h^^.

54 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

they heard the man Leo more than once singing
htames m an unknown tongue to the devil, there
m the moonhght."

Alvaro's keen glance noted CarroU's amused
smile.

"T^.!! r^^^T.*^ '°' ^''''' ^^ P^tested.
That the devil has entered into men we know

from Holy Writ, and why not now? The evil
one is as cunning, and his arm is as long, as ever
It was. But again-the man Leo may have been
only cra^ drunk, for in those later days he drank
much of the red wine of the country, which is
bad, very bad for foreigners. With Spanish blood
only does it mix wrell."
"Of what nation was Leo?"

T r^*« ^""^ °°*- ®"* "^^^ tl^ once have

P^/ r ^^' ^ ^^^"^ P"^t °f San
Pemando, who alone of aU the men in California

perhaps. Leo loved, caU him with much laughtei^
a Vikmg," whatever that may mean '

lieiit^t"" '"' "° '^"^^^- " ^"^^--^ *^«
"It's his mother's name, seftor-his mother's
Spamshname. What was Leo's other name we
never Imew. Prom the day he came ashore at
ban Pedro thuty years ago, his face wide open
with a fresh knife slash, to the day he lay dead at
our feet at San Pemando, he was a mystery and
a marvel to us all." j j ^

THE SON OP LEO THE STRANGER 55

"WeU." said CarroU as he rose to go "the man
Hugo IS stiil voting T^f «<, u \. ' °^^

howj that hi ^r^' "^ ^ charitable, and

^bl at lir^ ""P'°^" ^^ year^-thkt he
wia be at least an improvement on his father '•
^^^Augustu. mted his Shoulder i„ a'^^f

mJ '*?^"°*' **'*• "^ f»*«- was a bad bad
man and h« mother an Indian of the C^Zias^

though mi^on bred. The blood in W^ is

ana tiie samts can avail but littu *k« t. 5,
good Ix>rd pardon me to sa^ tt'" ^ ""

a I

CHAPTER V

BNGLANO'S AGENT

'pHE dingy little room was dusty, unswept,
and festooned with grimy cobwebs hanging
m the dark comers. On the cracked and time-
soiled walls the distorted shadows of the two men
at the table, stirred to life by the idle flickering
of the candle flame, swayed grotesquely.

Hugo Vanuela threw down his cards with a
muttered oath.

"The devil himself is in the cards to-night— I
can win nothing." He reached over to the bottle
and filled the glass with red wine.

The other, a big bearded man in the leather
leggmgs of a vaquero, gathered up the cards and
laid them aside in a neat pile. Pocketing the
com on the table, he remarked philosophicaUy as
he lifted the candle to light his cigarette:

"Truly, Senor Vanuela, it comes in that manner
sometimes, to aU of us. But before we began at
the cards you were saying that Governor Pico
and Commandant Castro were quarreling before
the Americans came."

"Yes, for neariy a year— always. Then Castro
went north. Then there came into the San
Joaqmn Valley this American Fremont, with his
fur traders and trappers. Later they made a

ENGLAND'S AGENT 5;

revolution and seized Sonoma. Then Commodore
Stockton and his ships came to Monterey. Com-
mandant Castro tried to raise men for an anny
to fight the American, while Don Pio Pico was
, here asking for men to fight Castro.

"Both Pico and Castro wrote haughty letters
to one another, and made proclamations. It is
aU very funny now. as one looks back— the Ameri-
cans came so soon. Then both Pico and Castro
returned to the pueblo with their Uttle armies
and embraced. But." he added with a shrug of
his shoulders, "the people did not want to fight "
"Was the legislature in session when they
returned to the south?" asked the bearded man
as he shot a sly, sidewise glance at the Califomian'
"Yes, sefior, they were busy with the plan of
Padre MacNamara. Pico, after he came back
favored the plan. After talking for a whole
week, they adopted it."

"MacNamara— I do not think I have heard of
him. Agam his fuU brown eyes, from betv een
tus half-closed eyelids, were stealthily searching
Vanuela's face.

"Santa Maria, but that was a plan!" Hugo
a)ntinued, with a flash of enthusiasm. "That
Padre MacNamara, por Dios, but he wasaman'—
taller even than you, and broad — like a church
door. To the legislature he talked for hours, for
days, and held them Ustening like children. He

58 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

asked them for much land in the north, whereon
to settle many thousand of his countrymen, the
people of Ireland; for the Irish, as you may not
Imow sefior, are CathoHcs. and not heretics like
the English and Americans."

The ghost of a smile showed under the black
beard, and the listener nodded silently.

"There were many rich men of England with

l^u'^^l ^' ?^' "^^ ^^^ Sreat comiections,
and had it been but a few months earHer it would
have saved us from the coming of these cursed
Amencans. If it had been in time. England
would never have permitted California to be taken
away from them, and the American commodore
would not have dared to place his flag on the
customhouse at Monterey. For EngUsh ships
wrth maiiy cannon were there in the bay at the

"Truly, a magnificent plan! As you say it
would have made a great nation of Calif omk —
a great Christian nation."

Through the closed door came the raucous roar
of a dnnkmg song, and the maudlin laughter of
mtoxication. *

•'And the p«)ple?" queried the bearded one.

Are they satisfied with the present regime?"

Ten thousand devils, no! They hate the

Amenc^s. Not a cockfight since they entered

the pueblo. One camiot go on the street after

ENGLAND'S AGENT ^

im^ derazcn have aU signed the p^fe „ot^

fight^ttheAmerican^the.^tLis?!'^
Have you signed the parole?" ^'

The brovn face o£ Vanuela nv4rf«,^
answered shortly, "No " """ened. and he

oth^^.'^vr^fs;>--««e

in *S^l,'c~ ""• ^- •««- that he is
"He is not."

The bearded one was on his feet nn™. " . ^^^^
hoId^gtheCahfo^ian. T^^^^e^,^

the strong hnes of his features, the piercing ktn
ness of his eknce anH ^h^ u \a ^'^^^^S ^een-
fuU brown eve -^ J ^ assurance in his
tm Drown eye. His very personality radiated
^wer but Ins smile, as he gazed at V^uda w2
seductive and winning. *«iueia, was

"He is here," he said quietly.

Vanuela sprang to his feet, and stepped back.

6o THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

Then, as his glance swept the other's countenance
—the full, broad brow, the masterful gaze— the
light of recognition came into the Califomian's face.
"So — you are — "

"Padre MacNamara, at your service. Three
months in the hills have given me this." He
touched his beard with his hand.

"You do not seem overcome with joy at seeing
me, my friend." He showed his white teeth in a
smile, a smile that in many lands had won its
way to the hearts of men and women alike.

Vanuela regarded him for a moment, distrust
showmg m every line of his countenance.

"So-o-o," he said slowly. "But why do you
tell me this? What is to prevent me from inform-
ing the Americans ? "

MacNamara laughed. "Because, my friend,
I know men, and you are not the man to betray
to the enemies of your country one who has
drunk with you. Especially when it is your
much admired MacNamara, the continuation of
whose life and the success of whose plans nvean
so much to your coimtry."

Again the radiant, winning smile illumined his

face, and in spite of himself, Vanuela smiled back.

You judged rightly." h'. said, as he grasped

MacNamara'shand. "But your great plan avails

nothmg now; it is too late."

MacNamara pounded on the table with the

ENGLAND'S AGENT

. 6t

bottle, and the innkeeper apoeared v^^u
supply of wine. aPPeared with a new

JNot so. my friend," he r^umed. "It is not

against the"^ V^^'^l^ ^^' ^^ ^ fight
anything." ^^^^^ ^^ not do

;;Are you ready to do anything?"

. ^°* ^^«»t the support of the m«, «,», u
^ven their parole Tt »^ m I ^^ ^^*^ ^^e
"Then " VT^S ''"^'^ ^ useless."

thou^ ''tK^H."^^^ - -^o^enfs

pamie Is tW« ?T *^ °^^^ ^° ^'^ their

Amaga, Banc^^'io-.^^^'^^' '^^^"°' ^^^'
"A little information I would aslc " Kt-^u •

w4r^ ''^ ^^- ^y^- Cota, Kco." he

^ i'^^^Z'^ ''i*^!"'>'' "■« P'^'^ ««*«1 by
• ci\amaras disjomted words thp r^iv •

)^ fd up quickly, the balrf^ giadnej^f't™'^

tte^i'^^^^.^^X.rhe'^'^""'"'"*
«"> in a soft showe; Tmi^' «» co„. on the

6a THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

•'S<H)0," said Vanuela.

^!^t^: ^V *"™ ^"""^ *^« «»«. and then
reached out his hand to MacNamara.

••In this I am yours to command, completely,

••Good; I knew I had not mistaken my man.
yes a parole broken means death, according to
the laws of war. But there is no fear of that,
and for this reason. Listen, my friend." He
b«rit over the table till his face was close to the
others, and spoke in a low tone. "There are
«x ships of the British fleet now on the coast.
Five more, I beUeve, are on their way around
t^ape Horn. As soon as the revolt is successful
our ships wiU land men at Monterey and Santa
B^bara. and hold both towns. With aU stock
and horses Aiven away from the beach, and it
blockaded the American troops wiU be hemmed
m by land and sea. Their position will be hope-
le^ It IS not too late; now is the appointed time."
There was that in the deep chest tones of the
man m the steadiness and sureness of his gaze
and the earnestness of his demeanor that carried
conviction.

The Califomian raised his eyebrows. "Ah vou
are no priest." ^

.«'^^^1°°''1^^^*°'^^^"S^«^ easily. "No,
an Enghsh officer, bom and raised in Gib-
raltar—hence my command of your beautiful

ENGLAND'S AGENT ^

Janguage. But to get back ^th ^

^st must be forced to C; i?!h'"? ^ ^«
^ be plagued into «>m!^\ . ^® Americans
while the t^is a s^^,:^ *^^ ^t rashness now.

the rest will be easy ^fZ^ "T °' ^«>ntent.
blood is spilled -hoid. I TZT'^ ^ •ncl
much drinking next Pwl ^^®'« ^1 be

jt » Mexican ln^^^^-^.;«l'~«' to-day;
the rabble for thTpm^ rf L T? * "* "»
•t the gate of the JSel IT* ?" ^""^
*»"« and shoot. If^fr* ""^'^ t*"" beat
froUc. With plenty of no^l^^'^^ " """^

^ &*• If they L^TuZ^'^;'^' ^'""^^
nothinglost. Ev«^'; ' ^"= "^ "°t' there is
think yon?" ^^"«'^'*«'Plained. What

VanueU smiled and nodded In i,- ..
much doubted the succe^nf; *" ""^^^ he
the Americans -bu?^ °f f J' "^'t against
Antonio AriUo fadS' ^! ^""^ °f Don Jos*

against a stone w^ h^wl™* f"""' "^^ ^'^
tantalizing him ,^^ '^" " '*' Srip. and was
7'k.ith*Ma^:^-*iP^'>^ty^ He would

P^ coincided with hist^ L ff ^^"""^""'^
both desired to drive iZ^:. ' P"*^* they

;ho had signed tl^ ZiTbT!^ *« "^
desire to see the ravnif f **■ ^n* he had no

would win in 4r«d ZT- ?* American,
^ or the buUe?'H^ttt"-,^Arillo,the
take care of itself. ""^e^er, let the future

It
It »f.

64 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

"There is a crowd of wild young fooU in the
dty who, I am told," he said, "play at revolution,
and call one of their number 'governor' and
another 'commandant.' With plenty of wine,
yes, it can be done."

MacNamara drew from his podcet a handful
of gold. "Take this to wet the throats of your
gay young friends, and deepen their ardor."

Vanuela, ever avaricious, gathered it up; it
was a hundredfold what he had lost at cards.

Laying his hand on Hugo's shoulder, the other
said seriously:

"You are to do a great work for California
to-day, mi amigo, and when the British flag floats
over this dty you will not be forgotten. Long
after you and I have crumbled into dust the
story of to-night's doings shall be a tale that shall
be told to little children in the days to come."

Vanuela, as he noted the flash of the other's
eyes and the ring of enthusiasm in his voice,
looked his uncomprehending wonder, but he
shrewdly resisted the desire to shrug his shoulders,
and answered gravely:
"I believe it, sefior."

With his hand on the door, he turned to the
Englishman. "But stiU, I do not understand.
Suppose that you had been mistaken, and
that after I had heard your plan I had not
agreed?"

I.; 1

ENGLAND'S AGENT

enough. - ^^ wine— t is coxnmon

f«^ro/t^:S,e''Z„'''""^» »' - ♦■■' *ade4

caiti^'sto?^ "°''*'''^^ ''"° °'"»'» °ffi« the
w( lain stopped massagine his lin f«^ «

««<i looked up in surpris^.^ ^ ' * '"°'"*«*'

cZr' ' '"'" ^°"°' °^ ^^^^^^« Seiior Captain
"Yes; what is it?"

aIo^'He'Z'°!f '^* ^P*^ « for his ears
"r. ^* "?*«"«> toward the door.

.o^d the newcomer. -WhalTyo^'nl^^f
^««o VanueU. serior. f„„ the'^CnL

loiow, to whom the coming of the

66 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

Americans was welcome —very welcome. They
wiU always have my support and sympathy in
aU things." He paused to note the eflfect of
his words, but the officer's face was inscrutable.
"Good; I am glad to hear it. Proceed."
"I would warn the captain to be careful. There
is much discontent in the pueblo. The people
are restless and dissatisfied. They do not like
the regulations that the Sefior Captain has
estabUshed."

"Yes, I have suspected as much. Oh, they
wiU get used to them in time. Do you know of
anything definite.?"

Vanuela hesitated. "Ah, the sefior, like aU
Amencans, goes straight to the point— a wonderful
people. Yes— so quick they do everything.
Nothmg have I heard but rumors, it being difficult
for me to find the truth, because my friendship for
the captain's countrymen is weU known. But
this much is certain, sefior, that there are meetings
bemg held, secretly, and often."

Gillie 's hand left his lip ; he was aU attention now.
Where, and who attend them?" he asked, as
he took up his pea and drew a sheet of p^per
toward him.

"That I cannot say positively, sefior, but I
fear that it is at the home of Don Jos6 Antonio
Anllo. Of that I cannot be reaUy sure, and can
offer no proof, except that it is plain, in case of

ENGLAND'S AGENT

fighting, he is the one man f *,«„ ^

lead them " ^^^ ^^""^ "Pon to

<Jo nothing at present If , .7^ ^ ''°"'<*
to proceed' agaC^. '^^^f J^ « -^
of the sefior to Dr«w^ t-^,- *^^ Permission

^^o^ation that „„.y be ^/L^^Jl^
He blew a long white streak of smofc -u u
^ea^for^nae to Obtain info^a^::!:^^'^

;;You wish to act as a spy for us?"

nipiicated I shall be protected from evil restiltV
Have I permission to so act? Is it ^^nf?^ J
between us?" " i-nderstood

we"?J' ^ S^.idea. Seflor Vanuela. and I wish
we had more friends like von mJ ^ ,
and you mav be s«~T^ / We need them,
appr^iatS/' ^ '^' ^^^ ^^^^^^ i« duly

. .-•BUrWW.'iT" -■ "H -T'T-iiT

68 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO
Vaouela simled in his slow, eas^ way.

«rh^' '^* ^^ ^P^ ^ J^<i. but
perhaps he overrates my abilities. It is possible

to the s^or very often. Perhaps I shall find or
hear noting, and if so it will be weU indeed-
^I^do, the captain shaU know of it, nK>st

Hardly had Vanuela stepped out into the dark-
ne^ when Jun MarshaU stroUed in leisurely.
The frontiersman's wrinkled eyes, looking at
Gilhe from under his broad-brimmed hTWere
keen and eager.

"Say, captain, —

recoUect them military ways; but no offense -
^^g to oblige. Now them thar old guS of
Castro s hvm' out thar in the stockade-they 're
m pretty fair shape, cept for the spikin', and I
km take that out with add. Kin ye get »v
acid, captain.?" ^ ' "^

you know my decision later. Meanwhile, there
are more miportant things to attend to ^

dZ^^r ,'°?lf """^ "^ »"« guardhouse
You will repair them at once, you understand •'

ENGLAND'S AGENT

"All right, captain."

-^T^r^,««' «f^'^ thoughts

favorably impS^ tte 'ZfZ'^r'^^

m his clumsy MBricaTwav to "?!?" *^''«'
him in order to morTe^v o^f ^7 ^*'""" "^^
in the form of pei4" ^«n " '""" **^
they were a iZZ^' . ' °"^ '=°^'* "o* *<=":

-ubie h^f ■4:^rwo^«t: i^ii :o'i::r

spy among the enemy. As for Arate th *

nothing to be done at pr«^t 4^°' '""^ "«*
of the wine room, »„/Ir^ ^* "*" ™"ors

wr \juiie. With all his npntlia^^.;^

a just man. according to hif igC^r;.""^
however, he must dn — ul . . " """g,

that Vanuela wt nt pttSy^^t ^

destroy t^ml^t^I^f "" '^«''* '»-"3'
He did not know that the keen eyes of John

70 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

CarroU had noted the Califomian leaving the
office To make sure that he had made no

sT^';. "^"^ T '^^ «^^ ^^^ «-^>^ the
s^t. thus commg face to face with Vanuela.

S^leTnXV'^^'^f ^^"^^^S^y- Neither
^ke but both must have felt rn instinctive hos-
tihty for m theu- souls at that moment was born
a dishke so bitter that death alone could eradi-
cace it.

CHAPTER VI

MARSHALL'S WARNING

T^'^-^':^ ,'-^ booted and spo^
and equipped for weeks on the hiUs^

awaiting the word of command to marrh -ru
were Benito Willard's^moa^v^f ' T?'^
oi^anized some weeks bef^rafrh. ""^''^'
of Stockton. ^ ^® suggestion

fla JT tK"^"*'^, '^^ commodore had hoisted his

the coast everv v*»qt. k„-*. • /^=****=« visited

tallow ChZL r^Vu^^^ ^°" ^'^«« and
^ow. Charmed by the mdolent. care-free life

th.^T'Jv *^'^ ^«^cans none stood higher with
the Califomians than Ben Willard ^ "7^
Ben^to-'astheycalledhim. His s^ing In^^

i'l

72 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

his strength of character, and his kindliness
had so won their hearts that, though he was not
a Mexican citizen, they had insisted on his
serving as alcalde of the eastern district where
his rancho, the Hurupa, was located. He owned
one of the few stores in the pueblo, and had
taken to wife a daughter of one of the foremost
Califomian families. It was with great reluctance
that WiUard had accepted Stockton's commission
as captain of the mihtia company. His warm
feeling for the people among whom he had found
a home made him averse to serving in a military
capacity, even though there seemed Uttle prob-
ability of further hostilities.

In spite of lack of inches there was about
Ben Willard, as with WiU Harbin his Ueutenant
he stood on the veranda listening to Captain
Gillie's final instructions, an air of reserved force
that unconsciously ir.spired confidence and re-
spect. His deep ha. /I eyes were quietly quizzi-
cal, but there wa- kctuness and decision in his
thin lips and closely set mouth.

"I have reliable information that Commandant
Castro is in Cucumonga Cafion, and that he is
secretly recruiting a large body of men. Bring
him in, dead or alive," Gillie was saying.

Hugo Vanuela, seated idly on a neighboring
veranda,— one would fancy half asleep,— with
a satisfied smile watched the cavalcade as it

MARSHALL'S WARNING

"deaway. It was he who had carried to the
A^encan commander the imaginanr rumor rf
the commandant's whereabouts. TOe idTU
origmated with MacNamara. who. tao^ ™

^-astro. had concocted the story

It mh^*!"'"'^ *^'>' as the two had hoped.
It robbed the city of its best defense fortte

dt ^1'^"" '"PP'^'^ " evolution in ;^
«^ These men knew the Califomian spirit-
^^^ uifluential in council, and whfleXy

As the handful swung out into the open road
at a qmck canter, not one among them dreai^d
that th«-e would be trouble during their ab^^
They id not know that a British icret a^^Z

^D ^c2ir ""^ ^"^ "'''" *« f""^ owner:
smp of Cahfomia hung trembling in the balance
among a trio of American, BAish, a^d iS^^
-«nva^ nations. Ex«pt for Lieu;eZt ^Z
^U, there was not a man left in the cit^

ex^te. "^^^'^ ""■'J »^Pi« and Vanuela

The breach between Carroll and GiUie had
widened recently. Car^U had not been tato
"•to Grlhe's confidence in regard to Vanud^

74 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

frequent visits, and the lieutenant was piqued
because this evidence of trust was withheld from
a subordinate whose experience and knowledge
of the people were valuable.

Indeed Gillie had for a time contemplated
sending CarroU with miurd's company, and
the heart of the soldier almost stood stiU with
the first fear he had ever known.

Some trivial incident had diverted Gillie from
his purpose, and the Ueutenant heaved a sigh
of relief as a cloud of dust, mounting to the
evemng sky, announced that the company had
passed beyond all danger of being overtaken
ev«i should the captain change his mind.

For Jack Carroll had made up his mind that
to-mght was the night of all nights in his Ufa.
lo-mght he was to call at the house of Arillo
and ask the Don for the hand of his daughter
A more cautious man would have sought out
some fnend. say Don Augustin Alvaro, told
of his purpose, and asked his cooperation-
roundabout negotiations would have foUowed'
with probably the same result. But Carroll
was an American. He felt that the way had
been suffiaently paved by the former meeting-
Loreto s clinging arm and her worshiping eyes had
told hun her answer to his yet unspoken question.
He was willing, even anxious, to give the parents
all due deference, but suspense was maddening

-m^w

'^^m'-^"^":":

MARSHALL'S WARNING

hour. ^ ^ happmess for a single

for his welfare ^7 • '^ * '''*P "»>«*ni

his heart. ^"•"tude that went straight to

ware n't anr^^tSf f «"' ""'W- There

>i'e Perhai rrd^e"Jt^\Tr '"^ "^
whare they wuz Thiciv i. "^ ^ <J » stayed

could n't enjoy myJ'Z^' ^^"^l'
I d just be miserable back in ti^^T^ "^■
on sidewalks and L„^ ,'''* F***^' calkin'

store Clothes. Mo^hat^' ^"^ '"" "^'
He shuddered at the idea.

r™^!r^ stammered awkwardly "Wa »l.
I ve been a pretty good trader. Jol^>. he SiS

76 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

evasively, "and I could gather up a bit, I suppose.
Perhaps when I got back to the Stotes, what I 've
put away would n't look much. I want to tell
you somethin', son."

"Well?" said Carroll, somewhat amazed.

"Don't postpone any weddin' for lack of chink.
Go 'long, now."

Carroll turned away, marveling at the remark.
He knew questions were useless. Marshall's
final word was always, "Go 'long." When
the frontiersman uttered those words, it was
A sign that the conversation had ended.

Marshall walked over and inspected the
stockade gate.

"Ain't much to them gates. A ten-year-old
boy with a good copper-toed boot could kick a
hole through this one. And that bar is shaky,
too."

Brooks, a typical marine, nodded and grinned.
Concerned only in obe)dng orders as they came
to him, day by day, Marshall's inquisitive ini-
tiative and restless speculation were to him a
never-ending source of amusement.

"Ain't worrying me none It's the captain's
business," he remarked.

Marshall strode over to the veranda where
Gillie stood, and saluted awkwardly.

"Say, captain, about that acid—"

"I have decided not to bother with the guns.

MARSHALL'S WARNING

M«^; thejr a« not worth it. And by th.
w^. ^» your repair work o„ tiJZ^
om^ It „„ even wor« condition Uum

J^'' '^ "^«^- -<» "• J-itated .

T^^t^" ^^ ^ TJT'^ for a moment?"
th«^wJ^^ ""^ "*» the office, and

an of rL . ^™- ^°" ""^ you have
^eht I^ 1,*^ °"* **«• but only lait

^eshop talfan- of a cannon-a brass camion-

iney saw me Iistenia'. and quit talldn'- but
^Zy^ "^ X HaO got tSat .^;,t
TThe captain smUed sarcasticafly.

lood LS^ "*°i" ''* "^ Patn>n«ingly. "your
good intCTtions do you infinite credit, but I
fetr you have 'cam.on- on the brain. I W
P0«t,vely we have aU the gun. Cast™ eLZ^
">d besides, you ought to know enough aCt
these people to know they have no reaUntS.
<rfres«tan«. They like to fuss and ST^

that B aU they will ever do."

If "J

MiaoCOfY RiSOlUTKM TBT CHART

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2)

^ APPLIED IM^GE

^^ t6S3 East Main Street

^^ Rochester, Ne» York U609 USA

^S (716) 482 -OJOO- Phone

^S ("6) 288 - 5989 - Fox

78 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

"Ya-a-s, I know," Marshall admitted reluc-
tantly. "They're great on plottin* and yellin',
and not much on fightin', but I don't trust
them none. Now about that acid for them
guns. It would n't take more than — "

"Marshall," the oflEicer snapped with an air
of irritation, "I don't want you to mention
either acid or guns to me again. You may go
now."

"About them gates, captain; they ain't none
too strong. Them bars, too, is mighty shaky."

' * Never mind the gates. Pix the other veranda
as ordered. Your business is to obey orders,
not to make suggestions. You may go," he
repeated.

Marshall griimed philosophically, and as the
captain a half -hour later passed out the gate he
noted him at work, whistling cheerfully at his
appointed task. But directly he had passed,
Marshall seated himself lazily on the steps,
and, producing from his pocket a long roll of
brown tobacco, drew from his sheath a huge
himting knife, and proceeded to cut off a piece.

"Wa-a-al, thar's what I call a mighty cock-
sure little bit of a man. Sooner or later that
fellah will get a jolt that will rattle his spine,"
he said to Brooks, who was pacing up and down
behind him.

"Now he don't care for suggestions, and

MARSHALL'S WARNING 79

I'd think that any darned fool would take a
suggestion if it was a good one, even if it came
from Old Nick himself."

Brooks chuckled. "You had better not let
the captain hear you calling him a darned fool.
You might find yourself in the guardhouse again."
"I ain't done it—not me. But say, you
mihtary man, could they put any one in the
guar(Uiouse for just thinkin' the captain is a

"No, I think not — of course not."
Marshall took off his hat and scratched his
head thoughtfully. "Wa-a-al," he said with
an air of compromise, "we 'U just let it go at that."
He looked cautiously around— at the pacing
marine, at the veranda across the stockade, at
the gate where GiUie had disappeared. Then
with a broad grin of reckless determination
he gathered up his tools, walked over to the
gate, and began work on it.

"Orders is orders, all right, aU right," he
soUloquized, "but greasers is greasers, and gates
IS gates— except this one, which ain't no gate
at aU." ^

He took off his coat and threw it on the ledge
at the foot of the waU, then, after a moment's
fumbling, removed from the pocket some papers,
and lastly a leathern pouch. Its weight made
him smile.

:j,

ia^MUMi ai-W

8o THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

"JehosophatI What a haul that 'ud be for
a greaser!" He smiled as he slipped it into his
trousers pocket. "I'll have to bank this with
the rest, to-night."

He looked at a beetle crawling on the sand
at his feet.

"The people of this community, and you,
Mister Bug, got jest about the same amount of
hoss sense," he mused. "The captain don't know
that the women have a cannon buried sumwhar;
the lootenant don't know that the Arillo gal is
his fer the askin'; the greasers don't know that
Vanuela is tryin' to whipsaw them; an' none of
them know that the wealth the big world is
strivin' and dyin* for, lies here in this country
in the dirt under their very feet."

CHAPTER VII

A soldier's wooing

Q^PULLY do the men of Spanish stock

l.n r^t r ''"°"'"'' ^ ^^^ "^^^ ^ southern
lanc... The large measure of individual freedom
and personal responsibiUty which the Anglo-
SMon accords to his sisters and daughters is
utterly unknown in the lands where the sonorous
Cas^han IS spoken. Prom her earUest childhood
to the day she goes to the arms of her husband
the Spamsh gu-1 is reared in the thought that
she IS not considered fuUy capable of guarding
h^lf but that her virtue, her reputation, as
weU as her ultmmte fate, are in the ever-watchful
care of relatives.

even m pubhc places, would be intolerable and
unwomanly boldness. It would be inexcusable
Ignorance of the proprieties on the part of the
relatives who permitted it. Perhaps something
ofthespuitofth 'oor. with his carefully guarded
r?^' f^P^^^PS the passionate ardor of a
hot-blooded «mthem race, is responsible for the
institutions of the iron-barred door and window
and the ever-watchful duenna, a personage of

I <'

mW )'

82 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

But love laughs at barred windows and duennas,
as it is said to laugh at locksmiths. On the
street, at church, even while under the care of
aunt or mother, the meeting eyes of man and
maid tell the story that n.. not be told by
the tongue— a long, devouring gaze, that only the
Spanish woman knows how to send, carries the
message her lips may not utter. And so it is
but little of a surprise to her when, glancing
from her window, she sees, standing hour after
hour perhaps, the man to whom she has aheady
paid the tribute of her eyes. To this day in
Spanish-speaking countries the spectacle of a
man standing silent, staring up at a window, is
too common to attract more than passing atten-
tion. Nor is it treated by the passers-by with
the heartless raillery of the Anglo-Saxon, but
with the courteous consideration that is char-
acteristic of the race. If it be night, he sings to
attract her attention, and she steals to the iron
bars, and there, with the metal griU between
their throbbing hearts, they teU to one another
the glad sweet things that have flowed from
the lips of lovers since ever love began.

Not hastily, for that would betoken the lack
of a proper sense of their own v/orth and dignity,
do the parents deign to take official notice of the
courtship. When at last the anxious lover is
invited by father and mother to enter the house

A SOLDIER'S WOOING

consent. But the approval of the parents does
not n,ean any relaxation of the caref^ ^^^
ship by moti^er or aunt. There are fe^iH
tetes or opportunities for fond cLe^ tt"

«s before, the dark eyes soeak^f», ' ^'

♦*«,j , '*«"*. eyes speaic with a passionaf:^

Of much of this John CarroU was aware
Awa« too was he of the prideful regaTin wS

«r rf^rnSfx^r '°^-^" ^^^

H;utena„tha^,S-^-,«"^^-2«>e

a sil^TthTn f"^'- ^^ ^ ^andneph:w"f
5'Sner of the Declaration of Indeoendenci. l,i=

famJy that proudly tmced its linl^ ^ ' *

associate of Lord Baltimore Ont^ T

>ia/i ««. ^ t •"fAiiiure. un tins score he

I^ no apprehens,on: that he had been ini^t^
to the house gave him courage and hope.

jJL,^ ^^"^ *''* ^'° home, Don Tos6
My house is yours, my house is yours." he

.;;'M :

Jf^^^H

84 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

repeated wiui a sincerity that almost made
the timewom expression of hospitality for once
believable.

The dispatch of the soldiers urged Carroll to
immediate action, and his preliminary words
were indeed very incidental. He had come to
win a bride. Why delay?

"Yours is a beautiful country, sefior," he
declared, trying to imitate the prefacing remarks
with which the Mexican always heralds some
important topic. "I have seen the blue bays
of Italy, and the orange groves of Andalusia,
but they cannot compare with your California.
I have decided to remain, and when the war
on the Rio Grande is over I shall purchase a
rancho and make my home here."

"Glad indeed am I to hear it," replied the
Don, in a tone so deliberate that he betrayed his
anticipation of the declaration that was to follow.
His hand halted midway in stroking his beard,
and he looked seriously into Carroll's eyes, as
though he would search and see if his soul and
heart and mind were true.

"Don Jos6 Antonio," said Carroll, rising to
his feet to give added impressiveness to his
words, "I am a soldier and a gentleman, the son
of a soldier and a gentleman. I come not to
boast of myself, but to tell you first that my
hands are clean and my conscience clear, and that

A SOLDIER'S WOOING

mTw^/rT^^^ '"y grandfather before
n^ ®^'' country "

Don Jos6 Antonio nodded gravely.
CarroU knew well AriUo's standards and hi^

briefly and modestly as he could.
^And now I have the honor to ask vou to
P^it me to pay my addresses to your daughter
that I may ask her hand in mairiage." '

^^Cool and unflinching, he looked into Arillo's

J^V'^Pripeless jewel you ask for." he resumed
»n his poetic fashion. "And yet -17^,^
come to ii<: *!,« *• t. ^ ' " ?*^ust

To the mother CairoU's style changed in r
^«™klmg, and in almost caiesdng Z^e to Id
of his ove for her daughter. As he tSced ttZ

"Oman's eyes filled with tearTaSd ^1«Se
protest was virtuaUy a consent. ShfwS a
woman who loved a chivalrous lover.

she iz SLS;;."" "™^ *" ^°- °- «>-fy ?••

"Ah, no, sefiora: your land and your daughter

86 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

won my heart in the same hour. I had just
told Don Jos6 Antonio that I propose to make
California my home when the war is ended."

The seAora was thinking fast. She blushed.

"The children— they ^411 be Catholics?"

"Assuredly; I was bom in the faith."

Don Jos6 Antonio looked at hei triumph-
antly.

"The saints be praised," she said devoutly,
"else this love of yours had be n a calamity."
She was silent for a space, her arms folded, her
foot tapping incessantly on the rug. As she
gazed out the window into the moonlit garden,
her ^'yes again sought the shadowy clump of
rosebushes in the far comer. There was a
crafty look in her full-orbed glance as she again
met Carroll's gaze.

"But if, when the war in Mexico is over, — if
your army is driven back into Texas, — if yotir
Hag goes down and Calitomia still remains a
part of Mexico and you are called away — seiior,
I fear it would then be impossible."

Carroll smiled at the supposition.

"Nothing can come between us." He spoke
firmly, and the mother's eyes brightened with
admiration at the declaration of constancy.
"Army regulations would permit me to withdraw
from the service and, as I said before, this land
shall be my home."

A SOLDIER'S V700ING 87

The mother's eyes softened, and her tone
betrayed her final capituJation.
"Loreto." she called.

Jx)reto AriUo entered slowly. Not the pouting,
dimpled, laughing, care-free girl of the casement-
not the bewitching, elfin creature who had clung
to him far beyond the necessity of fear, a few
nights ago, but a woman, magnificent, queenly,
and senous with all the dignity of her race.

To-night she showed Lieutenant Carroll that
the daughter of the AriUos did not depend on
smiles or glances for her beauty. To-night she
gave him proof that she was qualified by every
gace to be the wife of an American officer.
Hers were more theji girlish fascinations. Her
beauty was lustrous, almost Egyptian. There
was not the suspicion of a smile on her lips as
she advanced with the grace of a queen, and
extended her hand that he might kiss it.

Marveling, he crazed at the woman who was to
be his wife; enraptured by tlie metamon?hosis
he raised her hand to his lips with almost religioas
reverence. One moment she looked, into his
eyes, long and wistfully.

"Had you not come," she whispered, "my
heart would have broken."

Her words, the touch of her hf ids, the look
in her velvety eyes, again sent the wild gaUopers
loose in the veins of John CarroU. Hardly

i »•.

SB THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

could he restrain himself from gathering her in
his anns and raining kisses on her upturned
face. But the cahn eyes of the sefiora were
upon them; the unwritten law of the land and
the people forbade. His charmed brain was
telling him one overweening fact. In any land,
in any company, among any rank or fashion or
condition of society, here- was a woman of whom
he would ever be proud. No child-wife would
slie be; no capricious miss to be humored, caressed,
or scolded. No, to-night she was the woman
glorious, dignifying his suit with a seriousness
merited by a love like his.

As they chatted together with the strange,
newborn familiarity of love, all her hauteur
vanished, and she was once again the witching
maiden of his first impression. Her eyes wide
with wondering worshipfulness, she listened to
his tales of a soldier's Uh by land and sea. In
silent enthrallment he watched her baby-like
fingers flashing across the harp strings as she
sang to him,— old melodies first sung by some
forgotten troubadour in the dim centuries of
the past among the far-off hills of Aragon.

As Don Jos6 Antonio looked upon them, he
sighed softly. Yet as his slow glance dwelt
approvingly upon the virile lines of the soldier's
well-knit frame, at his hendsome face all aglow
with new-foxmd happmess, he smiled with satisfied

A SOLDIER'S WOOING

pride. Such a son would S* «« ^•
tllc house of AriUo. "° ^''''^^ *^

^lore mat such a woman existed. Intoxicated

^LLltT ^'f '^"« ^'"-^ that Tet:^
awake marvehng at the suddenness and co nZV
ness of her capitulation, he feltT^„* ^
sorrow for IdnM r ° ' f"- ^^^^ * «*"temptuous

gods, for all^f ;o'rid.'H::' ^Jt '^T'

electrified witht,,^'^ "°""^^^' '^^ ^<^
„.^%"^"^°^t walked homeward with ^h^

jocular waging. "Beware the Btadc L^^"^:

shite Z'r i?." *? "^ ""PP"^ H^^-^^d
Shake hands with the devU himself to-nijht
Hunmn or supernatural were aU alike tt ll

?^ ,f ''.'"* "^™'**^- H* started to whis^-
Oh. the heart that has truly loved." ra«

90 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

he stopped. It seemed that a form was rising
out of the ground, in a shadowy comer not twenty
feet away. He heard the clicking of coin and
scraping of earth, as though something was
bemg buried when his whistle interrupted opera-
tions. He stopped and gazed; the figure rose
to full stattire.

"Who goes there?" he demanded.

"A friend— let me pass," said a voice, evidently
disguised.

CarroU blocked the way; the voice was not
a strange one. A menacing arm was raised
as though to frighten the lieutenant; a cloak was
drawn across the face as Loreto had described
the specter.

"Halt, or I shoot," commanded Carroll, who
though onarmed had the soldier's instinct.

"Thedevilyou will,"repliedthefigure, dropping
the cloak, and Jim Marshall stood before him.
"Congratulations, lieutenant," he chuckled.
In puzzled amazement the officer stared at the
frontiersman's black raiment, at the short cloak
hanging from his arm, at the round knobbed hat
of the bull fighter.

"Jim," he pretested, "what can you possibly
mean by such foolishness? It is dangerous.
The provost guard may fire on you."

"Oh, I guess not," drawled MarshaU, as he
walked away.

A SOLDIER'S WOOING „

. "Good night, Ueutenant." he caUed back
JfcuWI^ "What people dc«'t unTersiS
should nt ever bother them none. Astillton^
1^, makes no trouble between friends.^
iong, now.

m the direction m which MarshaU had disappeared
I'dei^rrg"^" ^^ ^ --'^ --^ond
Then as he resumed his way to the stockade
he forgot the man and his masquerading. His
sold fiUed with the joy of life ^ love, he went
to his cot to dream of his bride to be

CHAPTER VIII

"COMO TE AMO, AMAMB"

OILENCE and darkness had faUen on the
*^ house of Arillo.

Alone in her room sat Loreto, her hands clasped
behind her head, a happy smile on her curving
red lips. Carroll's deep manly tones, his quaint
little touches of accent, his large white hands
that could strike such mighty blows, were aU
her thoughts.

"Ah, what a man he is," she whispered caress-
ingly to herself.

Through the barred window came the tinkling
melody of a guitar; then a rich, clear voice sang:

"So still and calm the night is,

The very wind 's asleep;
Thy heart 's so tender sentinel.

His watch and ward doth keep.
And on the wings of zephyrs soft

That wander how they will.
To thee, oh, woman fair, to thee,

My prayers go flutterbg still.
To thee, oh, lady fair, to thee.

My prayers go fluttering still.

"Oh, take the heart's love to thy heart
Of one that doth adore.
Have pity— add not to the flame

That btims thy troubadour,
And if compassion stir thy breast
For my eternal woe.

"COMO TE AMO, AMAME" 93

Oh, as I love tiwe, loveliest

Of women, love me so.
Oh, as I love thee, loveliest

Of women, love me so."»

Could it be her American?-but no. it was
Zl^ 7«- As she giasped the b^ Z^
both hands, and peered out into the ^gH.
young man stepped dose to the window fLk
°'/"f '='P«'»°'=y °» his d«amy, moMe w

A httle npple of laughter gree Jhim "T^"
Se^-Servolo Pale... is it thou? ^i

"Loreto mine. I have always loved thee since
thou wert a little, little girl."
"But Servolo." she protested, "how foolish

Jos* and Manuel, like a brother.'^ "■*

Could I speak of love with others ever near?

t^o ■Z\*^'' f*"' thanks be to i^'

w '^ "°' fwhsh." he said with dignity as
he took her hand and raised it to his KiT

Always, always, hast thou been to me the
hght of my life, the joy of my heart aL if
would km me. Wo. I thou 'c^S' not 1^4'

Little she knew how truly he spoke.

tnuSr.'S^'c^ I- lS:>^ «»« ^<1 P«»i«ion of the

■1 ^U,

J ;• if • r'"

:¥■-*- ; ^.

i i

94 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

"But, Servolo." she said, amazement still
strong upon her, "I never thought-I never
dreamed— I do love thee. Thou art very
dear to me, even as Jos6 and Manuel are."

"No, no," he protested, and there was a
world of pain in his tone, "I love thee as a man
loves the woman he would wed."

"Oh, Servolo, I am so sorry— so sorry for
thee. It seems so strange—" The tears
trembled on her dark lashes. "But it can never
never be."

"Has some one else been singing at thy win-
dow? he asked, a new note of fierceness in
his voice.

"No, Servolo, no. It is not the American way
to— She checkea herself, and covered her
face with her hands. "I had not intended to
tell."

"An American, Jesus Maria! An American!"
he repeated incredulously. "And they so rough
and wild.— men who drink much wine, shout
and fight, and He like dogs in the open street.
Oh, Loreto!"

"All Americans are not like that; Don Benito
Willard and Don Abel Steams are good men
and Seiior Carroll is an officer and a gentleman'
and also— thanks be to the Holy Mother— a
Catholic."

"An officer— a gentleman— and a Catholic,"

"COMO TE AMO, AMAME" „

J«ad drooped betw«„ rt,^ •»«. and as his

up his head, -r^ ,^ ?f«^- throwing
have thee!" ' "^ >all hani He shaU not

kif me also, Zt^ t^f'^^^'l /' ™«>d
I love him so." ^"^ ^ '°^e him,

than fatherTmX ^l! ^^ ''^^^ »°»
aUthe world." ''"'*^' "<>« than

'•H^r'^ he spoken yet.'"

their^'co^t-th^" r •T*" '"^ ^-»
m California v-hT^e :ar"''i^ "' "^ =*^^
But, promise me oh Z " ^*""' ^ °'er-

96 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

I blame thee not. My life I would give for thee
gladly, as before."

He had recovered his composure, and his
handsome face bore evidence of the truth of his
brave, fervid words.

"Still shall I love thee, Loreto. Ever, if I
may, let me serve thee. In these troublous
times, perhaps I may shield and defend thee.
Thus may I forget my grief until kind Death
releases me." Then lifting her fingers to his
lips, he strode away in the darkness.

And Loreto Arillo, her tender heart aching
for the friend of her childhood, wept silently on
her pillow, till sleep fell upon her.

CHAPTER IX

"tHB sons of ANCIBNT SPAIN"

T^d^'S.T^^ °^ ^« »o^« ««g died away,
and the mngmg ended with a final sweeo
on ti stnngs of the guitar. Heas^ at^
applause, ready and generous, the ^ tj^
happxly. and handed the instrumenf t^^
young man across the table.

"It is now for thee, Servolo— pardon me
governor. Something of thine own " '

under the little curled mustache. Cast in a
slender m.old. light-limbed and gracSul hk

'rS 'r "b '^^f 1 "^'^ "^y ^ -^' ^^^

iramea the broad low brow nf t^o a •
idealist Vo*. *u ^ *"® dreammg

laeaJist Yet there was something of strength
m he long sweep of the pointed jaw. ZT^e
could easily imagine that the soft eyes coSS^snTp
m anger. Just at present they were h^w Zh
ill-concealed sorrow PalerA L^ "^vy wiin
his heart. ^^^ * "^^^^^ ««

As his fingers wandered aimJessIy over the
stnngs he ga^d around at the dozen'yoi^g mt

flames^and the closed and shuttered windows.

Look without the door, commandant." he
said to Ignacio Reyes.

'It

98 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

He hummed a slow crain, his fingers ever
searching, seeking on the strings for something
that eluded them. Then the notes repeated,
wavered, and rose again, till the twinkling fingers
found themselves, and as Reyes re&iterud with
the words, "AU is weU," the music floated into
a low, plaintive melody of the minor chord. A
moment only it surged on alone, then his clear
tenor voice broke forth in song.

"The 8tr-nger rules our fathers' laod,

Our flag in dust is lain;
Our heads we bow to his conunand,

We Sons of Ancient Spain.
Our pulses thrill to the wondrous tale

Of their deeds in days of old.
Ca! can it be otir cheeks grow pale.

Our hearts grow weak and cdd?

"The race whose bold an4 hardy sons,

First Ocean's wastes essayed.
The Cross <rf Christ to the heathen brought,

In the dusky forest glade.
Our pulses thrill to the wondrous tale

Of their deeds in the days of old.
Oh, can it be our cheeks grow pale.

Our hearts grow weak and cold? "

As the grieving, plaintive melody died away his
quick eyes again sought the faces of h^ compan-
ions, with a gratified smile.

In all ages it has been men with the brow and
the eyes of Servolo Palera who have sung the
songs that have echoed in the hearts of men —

•"iHE SONS OP ANCIENT SPAIN" „
aags that have sent them from th-,ir ouiet (ir^

eign fidds • '° '"* "«'"' °° *»'"' for-

His was the soul of the ancient bard and hi.
h^dsome face glowed with gladness^he ^o^'
^f^°^^ """"tenanc^s. their he^ b^^S^
a^d the tears trembling on their lashe, W^'
o-ispoken thoughts, the thoudurthaT^th ^^
«™.ts they had sought to Z^ ^h^ ^^
nage and assumed indifference h^ i,^ ^ ?"
dragged to the glaring H^^f ^ ^L ^^''

again he s^ng * tnumphant strain, and

"The tide that flowed in Cortfe' vein..

The blood of conquering Spain.

The ra«» that won these hiUs and plains
ShaU conquer once again

Wjthin our heart the hope is strong.

The hope that cannot die—
T^right shaU triumph over wrong

iJeneath our southern sky.

"When the hills are soft with creeping green
And the mustard blooms ag^ *^'
^'"^^ «« their banners gi;«n.
The Sons of Ancient Spain

xoo THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

WHUn our hmrta tht hope is ttroof .

The hope that never diet,
That right ehall triumph over yrnog.

Beneath our touthera ikke."

There was a moment of tense silence; then
a delirious roar of applause. Around him they
pressed, with outstretched hands, embracing him,
and patting him on the back. Ignacio, with a
burst of Latin fervidness, bent over and pressed
his lips to his waving locks.

"Ah, Servolo, dear friend of mine, thou art a
-rue singer. Thou playest on our hearts as easily
as on thy guitar."

A knock on the door caused immediate silence.
"The Americans!" ran the whisper around the
room.

There was a hurried rush for the back entrance,
but Palera, reaching the door first, set his back
against it and, raising his hand, held them back.

"Stop! If it be the Americans, the house is
surrounded, and there is no escape. Would you
have a buUet in the back as you run away in the
darkness? But if it is a friend, well— we will
sing for him and give him some wine."

He unbarred the front door, and Hugo Vanuela
stepped inside.

"Let me not disturb you, my friends," he said
in his deep voice. "Ah. wine and song— both
are good. But do you not fear the Americans
will discover your retreat?"

"THE SONS OP ANCIENT SPAIN" lox

hJlu°'". """^ '«™^^' "'^ w far down here
by the nver. The nose of the man Gillie i. long
•nd Aarp as that of a coyote, but he h- not yet
«neUed out our bunx)w. But, Seflor N^anuela,
why 18 ,t thou hast not been with us since the
mght we first met?'*

Vanuela was not espedaDy welcome to many
of the young men, but their infinite courtesy forced
then to a show of hospitality.

•nM'i^';^^" ^' *""* **® *=*^o* ^ where one
wOl. There IS much to do at the rancho. Then.
I do not love the putblo-at present." he added
with a wry face.

••Still, there are things that amuse." suggested
Sen^olo "The saints be thanked for thati
Pablo. It 18 truly a shame the way that thou
plaguest the sentry at the stockade gate-pepper-
mg hmi with smaU stones in the darkness, from
the near-by roofs. Some night he will bring thee
tumbhng down with a shot from his carbine "

tell the direction from which they come, as there
are always more than one of us on different roofs.
But thou. Ignacio. thou wilt be caught some day-
^g him 'Pig. pig.' even from the doors across
the street, m the broad light of day."
Ignado's wholesome, boyish grin testified to his

"Ah, governor," he bantered, "thou needst

I'''

loa THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

not ftsttime «irt of virtue. Who wm it threw the
bleeding head of a pig on the end of m swinging
naU over the stockade waU, and brought the
worthy Gillie himself storming from his bed? A
reward has been posted for the capture of the
evU doer. Sanu Maria I I am half-mind,. to
collect it myself."

Hugo -Tiiled as the hearty laughter ran around
the roo Within the past week he had been
busy buyinf a welcome with MacNamara's gold.
"Ut more wine be brought. It is for me to
pay," he added, as he laid several gold pieces on
the table. * ' Let it be a cask. "

"Now, Seflor Vanuela," said Reyes, after the
glasses had been emptied, "you shall hear our
poet's latest effort. Sing for us again, Servolo,
thy new song, 'The Sons of Ancient Spain.' "

As Palera sang, his fine face Hushed with wine,
the young men threw off all restraint, and swung
into -he chorus at the tops of their voices.

"Within our hearts the hope is Jtrong,
The hope that never dies,
Tb''t right shall triumph over wrong,
Beneath our southern skies."

" 'Tis a grand song, Sefior Palera," Vanuela
said gravely. "Allow me to congratulate you
•Twould go well," he added, "to the sound of
marching feet."

Again were the glasses filled and emptied, and

"THE SONS OP ANCIENT SPAIN" 103

a^with waving hands and stamping feet they
r^ through the chorus. tiU the l^Uing of S
«uitar was lost in the tumult

Vanuela rose to his feet. "Priends." he said
raismg his glass aloft, "to^y i. the 4 JTS
days-the night of all nights. Have yL foT^

Sv "^f M '' ". "^^ '«^^ °^ ^'^^' the
day of Mexico's independence? ShaU it pass

without our showing the Americans, though wn-
quered we may be. we have not f^rgottS Td
never will forget?"

Loud handclapping. and shouts of "No no'"
P^eted him. '

"i>et us then go in the darkness and sing in
the ears of our friend Gillie the wonderfj^ng
Ir ^*' u^*' ^^ '"^y ^^'^ ^« have not7^!

learts. TwiU be rare sport to bring him and

ills men tumbling from their beds, but to ^

upon an empty street." w gaze

"But hold." said Palera; "they may fire uoon

- pe man Gillie has been much 1^:!^

"Bah! In the darkness we are safe. The
Americans shoot weU. but in the night, and when

straight. However, if thou art afraid-"

^o^f''\ ^^"^ I'^^PP^ indignantly. "I wiU
go, he said quietly.

■ -si'

I '11

104 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

"And noise, noise," broke in a voice. "We
must have plenty of it; there is an old drum in
the back room, I believe."

"There is. It needs only tightening," said
Ignacio, as he hastened to get it.

"Wait," said Pablo. "I will get father's old
escopeta. It is but a few steps across the vine-
yard. There is a charge of powder in it ah-eady."
Silently, and with infinite caution, the little
line of dark f gures trailed across the vineyards
and wound through cornfields, stopping here and
there at a warning signal from Vanuela. Reaching
the main road leading from the river to the houses
thickly grouped about the plaza, they lay flat on
their faces in an olive grove while an American
patrol trotted past.

"Tie up that drum a little tighter, Ignacio. It
clanks and is noisy," whispered Servolo.

There was no moon, and the sky, overcast with
a blanket of clouds, showed not a single solitary
star. Through the inky reek of the night they
crept past houses where dogs barked inquiringly.
As they stole across the street toward the stockade
gate Vanuela lagged behind and, slipping to the
rear of one of the buildings, was lost in the dark-
ness. In the intense excitement of the moment
his absence was uimoticed. Suddenly the hush
of night was broken by loud yells, the rattle of a
drum, and a single shot.

CHAPTER X

THE CLANK OP CHAINS

the light of the flaring torcTtS; t^hT" • "
'oar of dnmken men. ^ing aT^^^.'^'^f
d^ to nudnight. and only an W ago *Z^

front.«^men were greater disturbers of tte ^
tarns peace o mind than even the Califo^

even h,m a list of the men whTt sa.?^
oT^.S^him"'' »-»^ "^^ ^
o men vrhose paroles were locked in his^

■■pd»w. the^ZJ^r,.*f.?:?"'«»°«»-

Pshaw, the feUow is lying,"

105

he assured

106 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

p^es." '"^"^ '"'" ^ "°' «°^« *° b^ tJ^eir

The imprisoned men in the guardhouse had

qmeted down, and to his ears camT^^nH^tered

SThe i: "^^ ''^ """" °^ long-dra™:;:
At the gate the crunch, crunch, of the sentry's
footsteps was broken only by the short sto^wlTre
he turned to retrace his beat.
Suddenly, by the east gate, the blackness of

the ri^sh of many feet and the quick, regular
throbbmg of a drum. Above it aU ros^ th^
sound .f singing, fierce and triumphant.

"Thesun shall see their bannera gleam,
The Sons of Ancient Spain."

Stones rattled on the gate and hurtled in the
darkness over the low wall; the dnun tatSrf a
wJd fanfare, and the crimson streak of a eZhot
deft the darkness. In quick response t^Se
of the sentry at the gate barked out towZZ
sound of the tumult. *

"To arms! To arms!"

The wild cry echoed through the stockade
and m a moment it was filled with men hS
^ and hatless, their guns in the" iJT
then- eyes w.de and wondering. Some one Xew
open the guardhouse door, and the prisonSs
stangely sober now. took their places TZ
walls. In a moment, above gate and wall aliS

THE CLANK OP CHAINS ,07

musket barrels protruded Tt, -t

^ited. glaring intoThr^e^fort^^^ '"'^
of a moving figure Par o f ^ «^^mmer

m the darkness. *^®^ "^en

n«e ^rZnm^ °°ilir* '-^ '»" -^th

laag>' e at himf ?, °'™ "^ "ere

In the wild tumult of his tired hrJIuF^^
sen<M» r»f *u^ 1 .■ ° °^^m he lost all

sense of the relative proportion of things m.
teeth ^e together with a snap- hTS^ .
speak, but from his dry lips theTra'n, *°

He thought of VWalnH v'"^'^"^^-
warnings; of the list Ses Tm. v'^'^^
was indeed being made a^l oTb^^^men .f
h^d^^ed the paroles. He called^ ^^.^fi^^

"Lieutenant Carroll," he said =c u
do^ the steps, "you wm taTe • d'taS ofT"
men, a-l anest and bring here t J!!r u^
names are on this list ™ "^ '''«'*

oil"^" ''"'" ** -^P^^ '° 'he light of the flaring
"Arillo," he gasped, as the written words sprang

io8 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

up before him. "Pardon me, captain; this is
fo'Iy. That man is devoted to our interests. I
saw him in his own house not an hour ago."

"Lieutenant CarroU, you wiU arrest those men
at once. Not only that, but you wilt accept no
paroles not to attempt to escape. ForestaU any
attempt at rescue,— shackle each and every one
of them securely, before bringing them here."

A moment later a marine threw the chains
clanking at CarroU's feet. On the lieutenant's
brow the beads of cold sweat glittered in the
torchlight. With an impulsive gesture he drew
his sword, the wild idea of breaking it across his
knee, of tearing off his shcilder straps, and
castmg them aU at Gillie's feet, sweeping through
his mind. With the hilt in one hand, the other
graspmg the naked blade, he stood for a fleeting
instant, gazing into the captain's bloodshot
eyes. Then with stony face he saluted, slid the
sword mto its scabbard, and turned away.

Through the dense darkness of the streets
with the white adobes looming ghostlike around
them for a moment, then fading away in the
universal blackness, they marched. Lieutenant
CarroU pounded loudly with his sword-hilt on
Arillo's door, and Don Jos6 Antonio himself
appeared, half clad, his eyes blinking wonderingly
at the clamor.
"Sefior Carroll!"

THE CLANK OF CHAINS

Z09

"I d::^j:,':^^.f'"«-°'yscod friend."

and unnatural In Th^ T^^ !J'^«''>' *^t^'

looking at him wondS;. t ^r?H ""'
explain. '=*"^giy, He could not

stuped In^^etc^Xt^- °^" "'= -"'
Jos^ Antonio tuJ^^edT^Ti^T °'?°"
He staggered back as a te^dT '" '""'^•
the face. With ey^ l^L W "hi " "
tow^ the waU. where hungL^;d''^ ^""^

Soo.«r^a'Se"^K^^ "* ^'^'°- »«ver!
a«.ou whlt^^STarS""^^' °°«

and held hto, f«ri^ T^ '^^ *'»"' him.
-^ap^tlr^^esT^^^-the^oor

Jos/^d tlr^' ""^ ■*^°- I*«'o, Manuel

his head^t '^,*^!^«''*?0°°Jos6 Antonio,
trickCin'^LtaS"^ °f »S- -d shame

there was a oteL^„-, c^"' °" *« ^°0'-
, " '""'="6 "^ of utter consternation

110 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEPLO

from them all, — from all save Loreto and her
mother.

■

Carroll held up his hand, and his voice, hoUowand

broken, reached their ears in an tmavailing protest.

"Believe me, Seiiora Arillo, it breaks my

heart to do this. But a soldier must obey orders.

Perhaps all will be well to-morrow."

The seilora had been clinging to her husband,
her face wrenched in agony, her cheeks wet with
tears. She turned on Carroll a look of fierce,
burning hatred.

"You cur!" she cried.

Loreto stood near her, still and white, her
hands crossed c i her heaving bosom, her eyes
wide in trance-like horror.
To her, the man reached his hands imploringly.
"Loreto, you,— surely you understand?"
The black eyes stared blankly into his, and
from her ashen lips the words, slow and distinct,
cold and cruel, cut him like a lash:

"I pray God that I may never look upon your
face again."

With a low moan she sank to the floor, her face
biuied in her hands.

Mechanically, Carroll gave the necessary
orders,— "Shoulder arms, forward, march!" and
Don Jos€ Antonio Arillo, bareheaded, and sur-
rounded by a ring of pointed bayonets, was led
away from his weeping household.

THE CLANK OP CHAINS

cn^edtTa^e^- ^^ "*"' ^ ««
angrily Prote^ mgnL tll/r^ ''°°"' °*

WaspL's::Cert?rLfj-' ^"

With Don Jesus Pico h^^ • ^ ^"^ governor,

Garfias, Don Francisco Ri,t,^^V ***""='
F«»cisco Cota. ST w; ^bt^° '"<'
worn, and many other., XentaS, "^ *"^
ev«j one dragging ti,e shamef^ ".»; ^"-^
AH night long the terror spread fnr =i '^

CHAPTER XI

THE COURIERS OF THE NIGHT

TTTHEN the answering shot of the sentry flashed

» ^ through the darkness that fateful midnight,
one of the rioters lurched against Palera, a cling-
ing hand caught his sleeve, and a familiar voice
gasped,

"Sanguis! I am killed I"

It was Ignado Reyes, shot through the breast,
and while Servolo and Pablo, shocked by the
tragic end of their frolic, bore him quickly to his
home, the others, ignorant of the tragedy, had
scampered away, pleased with the escapade.

Surrounded by his sorrowing mother and
sisters, within an hour the boy was dead. As
Servolo, shaken by sobs, buried his tear-stained
face in the drapery of the bed, the insistent
thought, clear and agonizing, saddened his soul
and burned in his brain— the thought that it had
been his own consent to the wild venture that had
sent his friend Ignado to his sudden fate.
^^ "Ignacio, Ignacio," he whispered piteously,
"forgive me, forgive me! I could not know— I
could not know." It was to Servolo the second
tragedy on his heavy heart.

Pressing his lips to the cold brow of his dead
friend, he took leave of the weeping women and

113

THE COURIERS OP THE NIGHT ,,3

stepped into the stiU night. As he did «. t.„
figures emerged from the darkness of a nlhtil^

v«»da, and Hugo Vanueiaa^^:!„''rSrf

"Is the boy badly hurt, seflor?"
^ He .s dead," answered Servolo, in a brealdng

"Dead,— Jesus Maria! So-o^ " \r

w,.M^;""*^^'"»'"^'<J the other man It
^sMacWa and he spoke in a low. t^*

w'l^d'Tt l"^ f-W" Almagro, a Spamard
"OTg resident in Meaco, that MacNamara hart
been^passmg among those who knew ^ 'tS^

"To what end? Ah! you do not know-no
one knows but our friend Vanuela. You oled^
me your word to keep the source of yo^Tnfo^f
tion to yourself?" imorma-

Palera nodded.

'Z^^l^l ""^ '"'■" *"« »»th that a

raican army of many thousands is preoarin.,

to march north to our assistance " ^'^^^^S

Palera started, and glanced at Vanuela. Hugo

k^^^

wsWSBBm

mmjjimjii^g~

"''^' s^^^^^^^H

«<i^^^H

^^^^R

'im^^M

i^^H

ti^

Ml ^

X14 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

nod ' { confinnatian, but the darkness hid his
sly smile of admiration at the spy's bold, ingenious
mendacity.

"We will ride," went on MacNamara, "to
every house to-night where there is a .tian and
a gim, and warn them that the stockade will be
attacked before noon and that the signal will
be three shots from the hilltop. You, my good
Servolo, shall fire the shots. Tell them of the
murder of Reyes; remind them that there are
but fifty men in the stockade. I myself will
ride by the river to the south, you through the
fielfls to the north, while Vanuela can rouse those
in town.

"Ah I thou art not the man," he continued in
his caressing: voice, "to let the blood of thy
friend and brother go unavenged. Thou art not
the man to let pass this occasion to strike a
telling blow for thy coimtry, and win honor for
the name of Palera. Wilt thou ride with us?
Answei' quickly, sefior, for time passes."

"Santa Madre, yes!" There was a fierce, glad
ring in Servolo's voice. "Sefior Ahnagro, I am
with you now and always."

A quiet handclasp, and they were on their
horses, moving silently through the night.

Others were abroad in the darkness.

A dozen times Palera and MacNamara dodged
Lieutenant Somers and his patrol, riding six

THE COURIERS OP THE NIGHT 115

abreast down the wide lanes in the outskirts of the
pueblo. Prom behind the comer of an adobe
Hugo Vanuela watched Carroll and his men crosi
the pla^ with Don Jos« Antonio, and as the
dank of the chams reached his ears, he muttered,
bo-o-o, chams on the proud Arillo! It is music
to my ears. Ah. would I could see his face! "

Short was the message that they carried to
sleepy men and terrified women during the long
hours of that memorable mght of September
16. i846--an army was coming from Mexico
— Ignacio Reyes had been shot to death by the
Amencans— the time had come to fight— there
were only fifty men in the stockade, and it would
be an easy task to surround and capture them.
Q'lietly were they to gather on aU vantage points
and wait for the three signal shots from the hill'
J^d they did not faU. Cahnly the men of the
pueblo. CastUian and peon alike, kissed their
weepmg wives and children fareweU end crept
seo-etly through the night, their guns hidden
under the voluminous folds of their scrapes

When morning dawned, they were lying con- ,
ce^ed on the roofs surrounding the stockade,
and hidden behind the crumbling ramparts on
the hiUtop. waiting impatiently for the signal,—
the three warning shots that would mean the
^ning of the struggle for the mastery of

1 16 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

The blunders of Captain Gillie, the intrigues
of a British secret agent, and the machinations of
a vindictive half-breed, were destined to bear
bloody fruit.

The work of Stockton and Fremont had been
undone.

CHAPTER XII

WAR

T'^r^^"* '^T *? "^<>^el>t «««. broke

^ ^? :.. ^'"'^«* was the noonday vivWneM
c ungni green of the sycamores by the strAnm

coudi, harassed by torturing doubts a ^^i
a thousand fear*: H,*o u «5^"""ts. a prey to
fury hadfLT^" ^""* °^ uncontrollable

iS^iL i ?^ *^^ ""^"^"^t Carroll and his men

^me h °^^ "^^ "^^ ^P^ J^ appare^y
become himself again, contained and self-^d!!,
but as ever stubborn and unyielc^g.^tu" i^
the mormng at roll-caU. the lieutenant noted
^ace. pale and worn, his eyes hollow °^1

weary,

There had been so:
eyed silence of the i
chained of foot and

)mething in the cahn, frozen-
manacled
girdled

men, who though

yet had faced hin. the night befo„.to5;

by glistening sted

swaying

!'■'■

ii8 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

flare of the torchlight, with heads held high and
brows undaunted — a something that had given
him pause, with a sense of his own indefinable
smallness. Dimly he must have thought, if
indeed he had thought of it at all, to have found
them crushed and humiliated, craving grace and
mercy at his hands. But he knew not their
spirit. Beyond one brief negative, — a negative
which denied any part or share in the disturbance
of the night, — by no further word, look, or sign
would they intimate a knowledge even of his very
existence. Don Jos6 Antonio had folded his
arms and looked straight over the captain's head,
and Gillie's repeated questionings brought but a
curve of contempt to his bearded lips.

Far more hurriedly than was his wont, the
captain paced up and down the veranda, his
fingers ever pulling and twisting his protuberant
under lip. Ever and anon he paused and glanced
at the guardhouse, that held the prisoners of
the midnight raid. He hurried halfway across
the stockade, hesitated again, and with a final
toss of his head, strode to the door and ordered
them released.

Ominously silent, they stood erect as the marine,
kneeling before them, clicked the key in the
locks and, one by one, cast away the chains.
Very still and very austere were they as they
passed, one after another, through the narrow

WA^

119

door, Arillo and Alvar- ; upportrnj the half-
fainting figure of the a^i'.' n n i^ugo Yorba.
They slowed their steps for a brief moment,
glancing at Gillie half expectantly.

Surely, surely, there would be some word of
apology, of regret, of explanation. But with
one hand on his sword hilt, the other tugging at
his lip, he stood wordless, watching them as they
went through the big gate swung open before
them. Alas for Gillie that he lacked the graces
of the old-world courtesy!

As the captain turned away with something
akin to a sigh of relief, a ringing sound caught
his ear. Marshall was seated on the sand,
pounding at the vent hole of one of the spiked
cannon. Smiling at the man's persistence. Gillie
walked away.

Hour after hour the metallic clang continued.
The sun struggled through the clouds, driving the
morning mists from the foothills, licking up the
stray wisps of fog from the valleys, and chasing
the shortening shadows back toward the moun-
tains. The sentry at the gate sought the protection
of the veranda shade, and sat with his back to the
steps, his head drooping in sltmiber.

Suddenly he sprang to his feet; Marshall's
hammer remained poised in the air, his head erect.
Then they both grabbed their carbines and
rushed to where, already, two frontiersmen had

i^^KH^g^j:-

120 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

climbed the low embankment inside the wall,
and were staring up the street toward the
plaza.

Wave after wave of cheers flooded the noonday
air; not the full-throated roar of the Anglo-Saxon,
but the sharp yell, shrill and prolonged, that
comes from Latin throats.

"God a'mighty," gasped Brooks, "they've
pulled down the flag!"

"Yep," commented Marshall, " them greasers '11
be startin' somethin' in about two minutes."

He was picking his flint and looking to his
cartridge box as he spoke.

"Cracky, we're in for it now!" yelled Brooks,
still peering over the wall. ' ' There 's the Mexican
flag!" he added, as the red, white, and green with
its emblazoned Aztec eagle fluttered to the top
of the plaza flagpole.

Even as he spoke, three shots rang out from the
hill; a singing bullet flicked up the sand at his
feet, and the hillside above the stockade echoed
the scattering crackle of musketry. Skipping
and ricochetting on the sandy floor, the bullets
flew, burying themselves in the adobe walls with
a sighing sound, smacking sharply on the brea
roofs, and droning overhead like the far-off hum
of busy bees.

At the first outbiu^t of firing, the men rushed
to arms, and as they piled out of their quarters

WAR

GiUie drew his sword, and his figure straightened.
In the actual presence of danger the man's figure
loomed larger and nobler, and his clouded face
cleared.

, "MarshaU, take a dozen men to the right roof •
Brooks, another dozen to the left. Lieutenant
Somers, take command at the west wall with
ten men; Lieutenant Carroll, to the east gate
with the rest." ^

On the roofs of the adobes about the stockade
on the top of the hill, by the belfry of the church'
were the half-hidden forms of armed men. Puffs
of white smoke broke out everywhere. In fuU
view on the face of th : m, hidden in the corn-
fields close at hand, she from behind the cor-
ners of the buildings on Lie streets, were the lurking
enemy, loading and firing toward the stockaC^
with vicious rapidity.

Up the veranda posts, as agile as monkeys,
the frontiersmen had clambered, and they were
now lying face down, their heads toward the ridge
of the roof. Irregularly their rifles spoke as
they sighted a head or an arm on the neighboring
buildings.

"Look, over there, Morris," said MarshaU to
the man near him. "See that fellow climbing
up the roof of that 'dobe? Watch me get him."
A moment's steady aim, and Marshall's carbine
cracked. The climbing man whirled about on

nigy^aaai.: |

123 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

one foot, legs and arms wild-flung, then pitched
headlong into the street.

"Got that fellow, too," grinned Morris, as a
moment later a Califomian who had rashly
ventured a bold dash across a street fell forward
on his face, kicked spasmodically, and then lay
still.

"Carroll," shouted Gillie, "have your men
clear the hill. Never mind the roofs."

"Let the houses across the street alone, boys.
Get the fellows on the hill. Shoot carefully;
pick you*" men," suggested Carroll.

His voice was cool and deliberate, but within,
his heart was aching miserably. Mingled with
the sharp cracking of the rifles and the deeper
booming of the escopetas, he could almost hear
the sibilant words of the Indian woman:

"Blood shall smear your path — shall smear
your path."

The irregular sputter of rifles at the gate facing
the hill grew into a volleying roar. On the slope
a Califomian dropped his gim, toppled over, and
rolled down. Another slid to the grotmd; he
was grasped and supported by two others, but
they too crumpled up, and the three, arms and
legs thrashing helplessly, tiunbled halfway down
the incline, and lay still.

For an hoiu- the fight went on. As the Cali-
fomians saw their comrades near them totter.

WAR

grasp at the empty air, and crash into the street
below, their reckless ardor cooled. Slowly, reluc-
tantly, the booming of the escopetas died away,
the rifles of the Americans became silent. The
unerring aim of the frontiersmen had swept the
streets, the houses, and the hill clear of every
living thing. WeU protected by the adobe waUs',
the Americans were uninjured; but in the streets
and on the hillside lay six silent, sprawling figures,
and as many more had crawled home to die.

"Jehosophat!" cried Marshall, as he sprang
excitedly to his feet. "See them skedaddle!"

In straggling groups the Califomians could be
seen racing toward the river, some on horseback,
others clinging to the stirrups of the riders!
Beyond the stream the plain was dotted with
horsemen seeking safety in flight.

The garrison broke into ringing, exultant cheers.
The fight was over.

•■■f

111

11'

i I'-

'W/

CHAPTER XIII

"sons op the land, awake!"

TV/TAC NAMARA, his brow black as night, was
^^■*' one of the first to reach the river. As he
sat on his horse, watching the fugitives gallop past,
Servolo Palera himself appeared, his face drawn
with dismay.

"Be not downcast, friend Palera," said the
Englishman as he laid his hand on the other's
arm. "It is a long road, this on which we have
started, and there are many turnings. Do thou
send men to guard all the crossings of the river.
Give them instructions to direct every one to ride
to the hollow beyond the Paredon Bluff. There
we can gather and organize for further action,
and there too, my Servolo, thou wilt issue a
proclamation that shall make the land ring."

There they gathered behind the great white
bluff, a mile down the stream, a confused, dis-
couraged crowd of young men. The older men of
the pueblo had, in spite of their midnight arrest,
held themselves aloof from the attack.

By the side of the little stream, in the tree-
embowered hollow, more than one yoimg man sat
on the grass silently weeping for the brother,
cousin, or friend he had seen totter and fall,
crashing to the street below.

1 2 J.

"SONS OP THE LAND. AWAKE!" ,„
thl' h ^ *, ^*^r »id a boy of sixteen, "but
i-oor Pedro, he did but raise his head above the

thS'^ h"^ '^"^ *°^''^"^' P^^^ addressed
i^~ Vi, 7' ^ ''^^^^' ^^^* °^^«r. and soon

?ili, ^i'^^^r^^^P^- When he announced
that he had reliable infonnation that a Mexican
army would soon be on the march through Sonora
there was a ^d chorus of ecstatic yells in
the background stood MacNamam, moodily
chewmgatwig. These verbal pyrotechnics ^re

tLfl "T'^' .^"' ^' ^"^^''^ ^^' a little
less talk and a httle more action. On his own

suggestion he was placed in charge of the com-
imssaxy. and before nightfaU he had proved his
worth. Cattle and sheep were drivel into the
camp, and butchered on the ground

Hugo Vanuela rode into the camp during the
early afternoon. As his gaze swept the hollow
and he noted the &^s where the meat was J^g
roasted he smiled grimly at these evidences of
the work of the ever-active MacNamara.

«n ^' »'?T ^^"^^^'" ^id Palera as he rode
tip, well I knew that it would not be I^ne tiU
you^worJd be with us. What news from' the

i ;'

126 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

"Nothing, Servolo, nothing. The worthy gen-
tlemen whom Gillie ornamented with chains last
night were released this morning, even before the
attack, and are still nursing their hurt dignity."

As MacNamara rode up and lightly swung
hunself to the ground, Palera drew from his
clothing a roll of paper.

"Listen, friends, I have drafted a proclamation.
The older men among the gente de razon, our
friend Hugo tells us, hesitate, but let us hope that
this will stir their blood."

"Proclamation of Servolo Palera and other Califomians
against the Americans:

"Califomians, Mexicans, Sons of the Land, awake, and
strike for God and Liberty! Blood has been shed on the streets
of Our Lady Queen of the Angels. Homes have been made
desolate by the cruelty of the strangers who would conquer us.
Shall we be capable of permitting ourselves to be subjugated and
to accept their insolence and the heavy yoke of slavery? Shall
we, in whose veins flows the blood of the conquistadores, lose
the soil inherited from our fathers, the land which cost them
80 much labor and so much blood? Shall we leave our families
victims of the most barbarous servitude? Shall we wait to see
our wives outraged, our innocent children beaten by American
whips, our property sacked, our temples profaned— to drag out
a life of shame and disgrace?

"No, a thousand times no! Death rather than that.

"Who of you does not feel his heart beat fiercely, and his
blood boil, on contemplating our impending degradation? Who
is the Calif omian who is not indignant and will not rise in arms to
destroy our oppressors?

"We cannot believe that there is one so vile and so cowardly.

"Awake! Sons of the Land! To arms, and the blessing of
Heaven will smile on your brave efforts for liberty."

"SONS OP THE LAND, AWAKE!*' ,37

/^ xie read, his fine, youthful face flushed with
emotion, his clear voice rose at the end into a
triumphant ring.

But there was no responsive glow in the coun-
tenances of his two companions. A strange group
they were, standing beneath the twisted sycamores
through which the sun shot golden splotches on
the grass. Palera, quivering with enthusiasm,
the other two calm and watchful, each playing
at cross purposes— MacNamara supremely sure
that he was using them both as pawns in the
great game he was playing for the winning of an
empire; Vanuela taciturn and somber, impassive
as an Indian, but inwardly amused, for he too
was playing a game, not for an empire, but for
the feedmg fat of an ancient grudge.

"Grand words, my Servolo— a ringing procla-
mation. My congratulations are thine," and
MacNamara shook Servolo's hand with a fine
show of admiration. As Vanuela foUowed the
example of the Englishman he caught the latter's
sidewise glance and noted the sly droop of his
eyelid, but refused to smile, and met the secret
agent's wink with a cool stare.
^^ "Make for me a copy," Hugo said to Palera,
and I will bring it before the meeting of the Dons
this evening."

At the pueblo GiUie had abandoned any attempt
to police the town, fearing that his men would be

,#-•

ia8 THE DeNS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

shot down from behind cover. And Vanuela had
been mistaken when he said that the men left
in the pueblo were doing nothing. Though they
had been released early in the morning, they had
taken no part in the wild, scattering, futile attack
at midday. But they were desperate men who
met at the home of Don Prancisco de la Guerra
that evening — desperate, outraged, and deter-
mined.

For to them had come the news that the aged
Don Lugo Yorba was dead. His kindly heart, that
had for ninety arid Cal'fornia simimers 'oeaten
for others, had giver m/ under the sudden
strain of the midnight arrest and the crushing
shame of the clanking chains. The asperities
of Gillie's rule, the killing of Ignado Reyes, the
dozens of homes that were now scenes of heart-
rending grief, the crowning personal ignominy
of the shackles, had stirred their indolenv, peace-
loving natures to a pitch of exasperation, and
when the news of the death of the kindly, much-
loved old man reache-^ them, then passed the
last hope of their peaceful acceptance of Ameri-
can rule.

In the temperament of the man of Spanish
blood there is much of the tender sentiment of
the Celt, but more, much more, of the pride and
dignity of the ancient Roman. It was that
which the ill-fated Gillie had wotmded beyond

"SONS OF THE LAND. AWAK£!" ,,9

forgiveness, in that wild burst of wrath when he
had sent Carroll on his vengeful errand.

There was no doubt, no hesitation, no division
of opinion now. The Americans had shown them-
selves unfit to rule a civilized people-as unfit as
the fierce Yaquis of Sonora or the wild Apaches
beyond the Colorado River.

The Caiifomians had deemed them a great
nch, clever, and magnanimous nation, though
somewhat cold and strange in their ways. But
they had found them rude in their speech, uncouth
in manner, utterly unreasonable and incompre-
hensible in their governing. To the people of
the pueblo the Americans had proved themselves
men without dignity, without politeness of word
or kindness of heart, without sense of justice or
consideration for old age.

True, . Dons had given Stockton their
paroles, but had not Captain Gillie relieved them
from all obligation by breaking the one unwritten
condition- that their persons should be respected ?
Nothmg was there left for men of spirit and honor
but to fight. And the short, fierce attack at
noonday had shown them that the common
people were ready to follow- were now awaiting
their leadership. *

Then came Vanuela to the council when they
were mentally, at least, prepared for war. Cahnly
and with austere dignity they listened to his

130 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

message, for he was no favorite among them. As
he told them, in a few short, sharp sentences that,
whether they would or no, the people were ready
to fight, there was a tinge of defiance, something
of scorn in his manner. He vvcis gazing into their
unfriendly eyes. God, how he hated them all,
from the princely Arillo at the head of the table
to the weazened Alvaro at the foot! But war
must make them comrades.

"That is my message, caballeros — three hun-
dred men under arms, by the Paredon Bluff, and
here is their voice," he said, as he read the proc-
lamation.

In their faces was a vague dissatisfaction. This
young man, Palera, hardly more than a boy, a
maker of poems, who was still singing at the win-
dows of the girls, had launched a revolt without
even consulting the great ones of the land. There
was a depressing silence in the room when Vanuela
finished the last words of Servolo's appeal.

"Por Dios," said Don Augustin Alvaro to Don
Andreas Pico, "'the young Palera writes as well
as he sings."

The younger brother of Governor Pio Pico
was a slim yoimg man Tvith a face wonderfully
fair for a man of Spanish blood. Not even the
gravity of the occasion had driven the happy
smile from a coimtenance that was full of good
na4;ure and radiant with the joy of life. As he

"SONS OP THE LAND. AWAKEl" 131

noted Hugo's air of truculent assurance, the
merry face of Don Andreas lit up with half-
scornful amusement. Leaning toward De la
Guerra, he whispered:

"Ayer vaquero
Hoy cabftllero." >

De la Guerra's eyes twinkled, but there was
no levity in his manner as his cool glance met
Vanuela's.

"I am glad to be able to tell the sefior," he
said with hauteur, "that we had already deter-
mined on resistance before his message arrived."

Arillo, who had been stroking his beard thought-
fully, remarked with a quiet, half-humorous
smile:

"Friends, friends, let us now be frank. It is
no time for jealousies. Truly, young blood is
always hasty, yet who wiU say that this is not
a time for haste? The young men have out-
stripped us. Let us rather rejoice at that, not
regret it— though doubtless we would have
been better pleased if we had arranged it ourselves.
But we could not— most of us being in chains."

Spurred on by the knowledge that the revolt
was no longer a vague, disorganized outburst,
and that there was an armed force behind them,
they acted quickly. Don Jos6 Maria Flores, a

^"Yjsterday a cowherder,
To-day a gentleman."

^a^im

\{f-:fft

133 THE D0NS OF THE OLD PXJEBLO

captain in the Mexican army who had seen
much service in the wars against the Yaquis, and
who had been spending his furlough in California
when the war began, was chosen commandant
and governor.

Don Jos6 Antonio was to be second in command,
with the title of colonel. Don Andreas Pico and
Don Manuel Garfias were appointed by Flores
captains of the two squadrons of cavalry. Don
Augustin Alvaro was to be "Capitan Auxiliar"
attached to the staff of the commandant. Don
Jesus Pico, a cousin of Don Andreas, was to
leave in the morning for San Luis Obispo, while
Garfias would ride at once to Santa Barbara,
bearing news of the revolt. Before evening fell,
countless couriers were sent galloping through
the adjacent country to spread the alarm to the
ranches.

Gut to the encampment by the Paredon Bluff
rode Flores and Arillo. They were received with
wild acclaim, and with full accord of all they
assumed command. Seryolo Palera was appointed
brevet captain, and dispatched with eighty men
toward the Cucamonga Cafion for the purpose
of capturing Benito Willard and his militia
company.

The ringing words of Palera were answered.
The Hijos del pais were awake at last.

CHAPTER XIV

THE BLACK MATADOR

lyi ANUEL ARILLO had just finished oiling the
-^^•'' lock of a battered old fowling piece, and
he loolfed at it lovingly as he held it with out-
stretched arm.

"Por Dios," he said, "though old, it is stiU a
good gun, Bost thou think, my Jos6, that father
wiU let us go to fight the Americans when the
time comes?"

They were seated on the broad veranda that
bordered the three sides of the garden behind
the Arillo home. Lithe and vigorous were the
boys, with the clear eyes and well-knit frames
that told of life in the open r. i long hours in the
saddle.

Jos6 turned his slow, gray eyes away from the
distant ridges, and with a quick, awakening
motion brushed back the heavy lock of red hair
from his forehead.

"That I cannot tell, Manuel, bu*; Senor De la
Guerra said only last night, even in this very
house, that every one between the ages of sixteen
and sixty would be called to go."

"The saints grant that he speke truly." As
Manuel wiped the oil from his soiled fingers
his sharp glance noted the other's moody and

133

134 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

distraught air. His countenance lighted with
mischievous merriment.

"Thinking again, Jos6? Thou wilt tire that
fine red head of thine with overmuch work. Is
it Delfina, or some other fair lady, that brings
that far-away look into thy face?"

Jos6 frowned, but the frown melted into a smile.

"No, no, Manuel; I have been thinking— of
what I can remember."

"Was it that sent thee wandering in thy night
garb in the plaza last night?" he teased. Then
Manuel's bantering air suddenly vanished, and
in his voice there was much of sympathy as he
added quickly:

"I do not -wonder that it makes thee sad.
Tell me again, if thou wilt, what thou canst
remember of the days of thy babyhood."

After a moment's thought, Jos6 answered slowly :
'"Tis little enough, and I cannot remember
whether or no much of what comes to me be
dreams, or in truth memories.

"I remember," he said hesitatingly, as if not
sure of his groimd, "a house in a narrow street
where/ donkeys with loads of wood on either
side of their backs passed each day. In a large
room in front, at a desk with many papers, there
sat a man — my father, I think. There was a
lady. She was my mother, I'm sure, for she
used to kiss me at night. That is what comes

THE BLACK MATADOR 135

to me at the very first, but it is all very dim, and
perhaps is only what I have dreamed, for of
those two I have dreamed often. Be they true
memories or but dreams, I fear I shall never
know," and he sighed softly.

"But plamly, very plainly, do I remember one
night in the street. I was running in much fear,
from what I do not know. Around me were
others in the dark, running wildly as well. Of
that I am sure. That is not a dream."
"How old wert thou, Jos6?"
"I cannot say, but very, very small. After
that it was all indistinct again. I was with the
Indians in the mountains, in their brush huts,
and again often with them by the seashore, for
in that land the mountains came down close to
the sea; One day, when playing in a boat in a
sheltered bay, the wind carried me out on the
wide water, and, tired and hungry, I slept. How
long I slept I know not, but when I awoke J was
in a ship with many sailors; then for many days
and nights I lay sick, near imto death. The
captain was kind to me, not like to some other
captains aftenvards; but he died— drowned one
night when our ship went ashore, and all but four
of the sailors were drowned with him."

"And those?" Manuel had heard the tale from
Jos6's lips a hundred times, but for him it had
never lost its fascination.

136 THE DONS ©P THE OLD PUEBLO

Jos6 placed his hands over his eyes, and his
shoulders shook in a little shiver. "Some brown
men like negroes killed them with clubs and ate
them^ and me, too, they would have killed in
time, but that another captain bought me with
a roll of red cloth from a man with a ring in his
nose and marks on his face and chest. And
with that captain I stayed until he beat me,
and then I ran away to another ship in the port
of Mazatlan in Mexico. And always have I
been *Jos6'; nothing but 7os6.' The rest you
know, Manuel."

The boy nodded. Often had he heard his
father tell of the furious storm ten years before
that had driven a strange bark on the rocky
point near San Pedro, and of how he had ordered
his Indif ns and vaqueros to bury the drowned
sailors in the sands of the sea beach. But the
heart of one, a boy of eight, was still beating, and
they brought him to life, warming him over a
fire of driftwood and pouring strong, hot drinks
down his throat, for it was a chill December day.
Don Jos6 Antonio's kindly heart went out to
the homeless lad, and he had taken him to his
own home, where they had all learned to love
him as their very own.

Spanish he spoke, but of a strange sort, with
many unintelligible words that, as the years
went on, he forgot. "Jose el Rufo Qoseph the

THE BLACK MATADOR 137

^^^f^ii »^^? "^"^ ^ ^" "^^"^^ than
Jos6 Anllo." Josh's hair was red with the

redne^ of fire, at which the people of the pueblo
inarveled greatly. His was the only red head in
all Los Angeles.

That he was not of Spanish blood the sefiora
always maintained, for though he was quick of
thought he was chary of sudden speech and slow
of anger, and there brooded in his face a wistful
me ancholy and the look of one who was ever
seeking to grasp, with the grip of the mind,
somethmg that eluded him.
j'Most often of all, Manuel," he continued,
does there come to me the dream of my father
at his desk, with the flag spread on the wall
behmd him. His face I can see plainly, but the
flag not so. And he always looks at me. so
.^traight. and when I rush to him I always wake
Last mght I dreamed of him so. But sometime —
sometune I am sure. Manuel,— I know not why
but still am I certain that I shall reach him, and
that time I shaU not wake. I beUeve he stiU
hves.

"Why thinkest thou so?"

'•Because always, always, I come to him a
httle nearer, to where he sits at the table, his
pen m his hand, and the flag outspread behind
his head. For he knows me. Manuel. I can see
It m the glad look in his face, and often he

pi ^

138 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

rises a little in his chair. And then I wake,"
he added moumftiUy

Jos6 had acquired much of the fine idealism of
the cultured family that had raised him, and it
added greatly to his prepossessing personality.

"Yi, yi, Jos6, do not think of it so much if it
makes thee sad. I do not think of sad things,
and so am ever happy," and Manuel's white teeth
showed in a sweet smile in which there was all the
glad irresponsibility of youth.

As Manuel, whistling cheerily, gun in hand,
left the veranda, a yoimg woman stepped from
one of the rooms of the east wing. It was
Delfina, an orphan girl who, as a motherless
babe, had been adopted by the seiiora. She was
small and pretty, with a pert face, and her merry,
saucy eyes, as they met Jos6's, brought a glad
radiance to the boy's face.

"Come sit by me, Delfina; I have something
to say to thee."

She took her seat on the end of the bench, and
drawing some lacework from the little bag at her
waist, said wamingly:

Keep thy distance, Jos6. The senora may see
us."

"May I not speak to Don Jos6 Antonio to-
night, Delfina?"

"Ah, yi, yi, but you are a foolish boy to pester
Don Jos6 Antonio when his mind is full of the

THE BLACK MATADOR 139

great affairs of the land. Truly thou art. after
all, but a boy."

"A boy!" Jose protested indignantly. "I am
as taU as the Don himself, and two fingers taller
than Manuel."

"Thou art but seventeen — "
''But near to eighteen," he protested.
"WeU, but eighteen then, though big for thy
age. But, Santa Madre, it would be madness to
talk to the Don when there is shooting and killing
m the town. Do you note how he frowns aU
day, and speaks but little?"

As she scanned Jos6's face with quick, sidewise
glances the mischief sparkled in her eyes and
dimpled her cheeks.

"Those who are truly men," she teased, "are
not now sitting at the feet of their ladies, sighing
like the wind in the trees. They are yonder, by
the Paredon Bluff, with arms in their hands
advismg as to the best way to wrest the land
from the Americans."

Her dexterous white fingers wrought busily
with the lace, but while her tone and manner
were maddening, there was a gleam of pride in
her dark face as she measured with her eye the
breadth of the boy's shoulders and marked his
downcast looks. He was truly a dear boy, but
it was rare sport to see him frown so mightily to
have him rumple his red hair until it stood'on

140 THE D©NS OP THE OLD PXJEBLO

end, and to have his big gray eyes turned up to
her, pathetically beseeching.

"Go to the war, and get thyself a name, a
great name," she added teasingly, "and then,
perchance, the Don will listen to thee."

Jos6's face flared red as his bristling lodes, and
his mouth grew tight. True, he had no name.
Or if he had, he knew it not. The girl's words
were idle, thoughtless, but they had wounded him
deeply.

"As you bid me, I will go. Delfina, if the
Don will let me." He rose to his feet, and stood
looking at her for a moment, his face pale now
and his lip quivering a little.

"Yes, I will go and find myself a name, or — I
shall not come back."

Sefiora Arillo appeared suddenly on the
threshold, and her eyes scrutinized them suspi-
ciously.

"Delfina, it is time the chickens were fed.
Jos6, find Mariano, and send him to me."

As the woman sat alone on the veranda over-
looking the garden, her fingers nervously tapping
her knee and plaiting the stuff of her skirt back-
ward and forward, her eyes again sought the far
comer where the roses bloomed. From the sat-
isfied smile on her handsome, mature face i!, was
plain that her thoughts were happy.

"It belonged to the church, and to the church

THE BLACK MATADOR

i4t

It shaU return when the war is over. Not a
heretic hand shaU touch it." she murmured.

The sudden outburst of hostilities had brought
h tie terror to the soul of Setlora AriUo. TOh
silent mdignation she had watched the flight of
Pico and Castro and the tame acceptance of
Amencan rule by the men of the puebfo. Now
in the blmd sincerity of her primitive faith the

tSr' 'V!;' ''^'''' "- ^-^ ^^« --er
she W ^^^^^^r^^d t° the endless petitions
^e had poured forth at the feet of the Virgin
Woman-hke she flinched at the thought of her

batt'"l?1,'^'.'^^^ ^ *^« deadly 'tumiito
battle^ but her firm faith upheld her. Surely
the Virgm and the saints, who had already
answered her prayers, would not forsake her
then. As for the young American who had so
ckverly won the high regard of her husband and
the love of her daughter, he was certainly a fine
young man but he was doubtless like other men.
and could forget. If he did come back afte;
the war was over-well, that was a problem that
could be settled when it arrived, if it ever^d

Mariano, a thick-set, roughly-clad, brown-fa^d
man m whose high cheekbones showed something

from ^h^otr^^^^^ "°^^^ ^^ ''^ ^-^- ^^'
dei^^i^r" "'* '" "'•" '^ ^^^

li.-.

143 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

"When do they attack the Americans again,
Mariano?"

"That I cannot say, sefiora, but I think to-
morrow night."

She glanced aroimd her, and stepping to the
door looked within, but there was no one in sight.

* ' Attend closely, Mariano. Have ready shovels,
picks, and ropes. We will dig it up and deliver
it to the Commandant Flores after the next
attack. Have also a carreta and oxen close at
hand. Now, remember, not a word to any one."

Mariano nodded his black head comprehend-
ingly, and as he twirled the rim of his big sombrero
over and over in his gnarled hands, there was
grim satisfaction in his otherwise stupid face.

All the long day had Loreto kept her room,
appearing only at meals, with a face so woefully
swollen with tears that the Don had taken her
little chin in his hand and said, in his strong, calm
way:

"Mary and the angels protect thee, but it is a
heavy burden for thy young shoulders to carry.
Ask thy patron saint to make it come right in the
end, child."

"Do not sorrow so," said her mother, when
Don Jos6 Antonio had lef the house. "Thinkest
thou there are not other men in the world? Yi,
yi, when the war is over, and a new governor
comes from Mexico with many fine young officers

THE BLACK MATADOR ,43

in hia train in gold lace and nodding plumes,
Jttle wilt thou think of the American ThouS
I cannot deny," she added, "that I like him far
better than I like his country."

Loreto turned on her mother a slow, wondering
gaze. Mid her hps trembled for a moment, but she
lo>/ered her eyes and remained silent. Sleeo
came not to her that night. With all the mad-
demng clearness of midnight impression there
thronged on her the scenes of the night before -
her father struggling, enwrapped in the arlns
of the marine, the horror of the chains, the cold,
set face of Carroll, the appeal in his voice as he
turned to her. and. clearest of all. her own cruel
words.

.r.V't ^u ^^"^ ^""^ °^ ^^ ^^ ^^ passed,
and her heart was now pleading for him. It

was the orders of Captain Gillie. What could
he have done but obey.? With something akin
to a shock, she realized for the first time that
he too murt be suffering, and a great longing
possessed her to recaU her bitter words. If she
could only let him know that, come what might,
she was his and his alone! But there was no
way; between herself and the worn-eyed, heavy-
hearted man in the stockade only a few hundred
yards away, heavy, black, and impenetrable lay
the shadow of the sword.
Kneeling at the barred window, she gazed out

xll

■}-

X44 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

at the black sky pttlsating with living, scintillating
stars. She would ask for divine assistance, ask
that in some way, somehow, there shottld be
sent to him the knowledge that she no longer
blamed him for the deeds of the night before.
Slowly the beads slipped through her fingers,
and as she finished she laid her ft "f^rcd brow on
the cool windowsill, and whit;v)^red into the
darkness.

"Oh, Mary, Mother of Sorrows, tell him, put
it in his heart and in his mind, that I still love
him. Protect him, and save him from all harm."

From be- jnd the plaza came shrill yells, and
an out>/4i St of firing. The beads dropped from
her fingers to the floor, and she wept piteously.

"Child," came a whisper from the darkness, a
whisper singularly soft and clear, "thy prayer is
heard. What message didst thou wish to send
the American?"

Close to the bars the figure of a man loomed
faintly in the darkness. Her heart stood still,
while a wave of terror swept over her, paralyzing
her to the very roots of her hair, and numbing
her finger tips in its icy chill. The figure wore
an old-fashioned hat, flat and round; the face was
covered with a comer of the cloak. There could
be no mistake — it was the Black Matador!
Her limbs were giving way beneath her, and
she felt herself sinking to the floor.

THE BLACK MA'lADOR ,45

"Quid," came the voice again, gently reassur-
ing, have no fear. I have been sent to help
thee, not to haitn thee. What message wilt thou
send to the American? I am a fiiend."

Was it a dream, or was she mad ? Was the dim
shape before her, that darker spot in the obs<narity
but a vision of her own disordered fancy ? A call
would bring her mother and the servants rushing
mto the room.

"Make no sound—do not call— the Black
Matador sorrows for those who sorrow, but he
serves only those who will it. If I go from thee
empty-handed now, I cannot come again 'Tis
mwtal sin to scorn the help that Heaven sends."

To her fadmg senses the voice seemed far-off
and unreal, but there was in it a gencleness that
stilled her fears. She crossed herseL' thrice, and
felt assured that no bodily harm could assail her.

Quickly as it had come, her terror fled. Be it
ghost, man, or devil, she would not scorn his aid.
There was no hesitation now. Fumbling with
quivering fingers in the darkness, she found
the quiU pen and wrote quickly on the flylerf of
her prayer book:

"I meant not what I said. I love thee.

"LORETO."

Again she crossed herself thrice, and passed the
missive out into the darkness. Icy cold were

ww??:^

M6 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

the fingers that met hers. At the ghostly touch
she lost her courage, and swoone,! Prom beyond
the plaza the guns spluttered agaLi for a moment,
and died away. Out in the open there was only
darkness.

Came morning. The girl opened her eyes,
and smiled at the strangeness of her fancied
midnight vision. In vain she tried to shake off
the impression. As she knelt in her nightrobe to
pray, she saw on the floor a folded paper, white
and glaring in the gray Ught of the dawn. Round-
eyed, she stared at it, wondering, fearing. Then,
with trembling fingers, she opened it and read:

"Thy message has made me happy. Be
confident. All will come right in the end.

"Jack."

As the conviction grew upon her that the
experience of the night was no dream, and that
her dark-garbed visitor was none other than the
Black Matador, serving her in obedience to a
higher power, she trembled again with the over-
powering fear of the imknown.

And yet it was not so strange. Por were not
the books Father Estenaga at the Plaza Church
had given her to read full of wondrous tales of
prayers heard and favors granted? Was not God
as powerful and the Virgin as kind and loving
now as then?

THE BLACK MATADOR ,47

Filled with the simple, childlike faith of the
Spanish woman she fell on her knees and poured
forth her soul m thanks. And in her fa^, no
^ger sorrowful, was a Hght that caused the
seflora to wonder and Delfina to cross herself
m awe.

3»

CHAPTER XV

THE captain's DEFIANCE

'pHROUGH their field glasses the American
•■• oflBcers had witnessed the wild scurry of the
fugitives across the stream, but they knew nothing
of the rendezvous behind the Paredon Bluff.
Several roads led to the ravine, one skirting the
river bank, others over the neighboring hills,
and as the horsemen disappeared in various
directions the Americans h^tily concluded that
they were seeking safety at the distant ranchos.

"Naw," Marshall was saying, "them fellows
ain't quit, not by a long shot. Ther-i're just
gettin' their second wind."

Ignoring the bantering remarks of his comrades,
he spent the afternoon at work on the cannon,
both of which he had now motmted on carreta
wheels, tying them securely in place with rawhide
riatas. In spite of his industrious hammering
he had not as yet been able to remove the spiking
from the vent holes.

It was nearing midnight when the frontiersman
on guard at the east gate detected subdued sounds
close at hand in the darkness. Then came the
soft shuflSing of feet on the sand, and the heavy
breathing of burdened men. As he leaned over
the wall, his eyes and ears strained to utmost

148

THE CAPTAIN'S DEFIANCE 149

tension, a wild chorus of yells came from below,
and the timbers of the gate bent and creaked
under the impact of a heavy blow. But well
had Marshall done his work. The gate stood fast.
The men on duty, seated on the verandas or
sprawling half asleep in the sand, rushed to their
posts, and with a volleying roar a long line of
thin spitting streaks of flame burst from the
wall. In the momentary flash was revealed a
huddled mass of men ranged along both sides of
a heavy log. Cries of pain and dismay were
followed by the swift patter of running feet, and
the hush of night again fell on the stockade.

Carroll took charge at midnight, relieving
Lieutenant Somers and his men. As he restlessly
paced the sandy floor of the stockade, the unhappy
man longed vainly for the power to read the
future. But a few hours ago his whole life was
bright with a glad radiance, whose glory seemed
to stretch down the coming years, and now the
future seemed as dark and gloomy as the inky
sky above him.

Vividly she flashed on his memory as he had
seen her that Sunday morning in the church, and
the night when he had saved her from the drunken
straggler in the plaza. But last of all, burned
in his brain the memory of the deadly pallor of
her face as her lips hissed the words that forever
cut him out of her life. WeU he knew the strength

ISO THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

of family ties among people of Spanish blood, the
reverence that is paid to the father as the head of
the household, the deep sense of personal dignity,
and his heart ached within Um. Awed and
wondering, he recalled the warning words of the
Indian woman:

"The great hearts thou reverest shall be
humbled. Friendship shall walk in clanking
chains. Thy heart shall be crushed as by a
stone."

From the west gate came the sound of excited
whispers, and after Carroll had stood listening
attentively for a moment, he strode over to the
wall.

"Step up here, lieutenant," whispered a marine.
"See if you can see anything down there. Brooks
says there is something moving, close to the gate.
Look! Right down there!" He covered the
spot with his rifle. "Say the word, and I '11 fire."

"Sefior, do not fire," came from the darkness
a mtiffled voiaj in Spanish. "I mean no harm.
I wish only to deliver a message."

"Keep him covered, Carruthers. Now, who
are you? Do you come from the enemy? Have
you a communication for the commanding officer?"
asked Can^oll.

"I have a note for Lieutenant Carroll."

Out of the black reek in front of the Americans
rose a slender rod, a white paper folded around

THE CAPTAIN'S DEFIANCE 151

its end. As the Heutenant reached for it, his
fingers trembled with excitement.

"Stay where you are, down there," he said in
Spanish. "Not a movement, or you will be
fired on." Then to the marines: "Both of you
keep him covered, and fire at the least move."

With wildly beating heart, CarroU hurried into
the building and held Loreto's note close to the
candle flame. And as he refolded it and placed
it in his wallet, his eyes were moist with joy.
Hastily scribbling an answer, he returned to the
wall.

"Can you return an answer? " he whispered into
the darkness.

"I can." And then, as Carroll reached down
the rod, "I have it. Adios, sefior," and he was
gone.

The marine giggled. "I reckon the lieutenant
has a girl among the greasers," he drawled.

"None of your business if he has," snarled a
frontiersman. "He's aU right, even if he has a
dozen."

Carroll paced again the long, dark veranda
during the quiet hours till morning. Who could
the message bearer be? He thought of Jos6, of
Manuel, but neither of them would have under-
taken such a dangerous errand; and the voice
of the stranger was one he believed he had never
before heard.

152 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

A scrambling, sliding sound on the roof above
caused the lieutenant to halt suddenly, walk down
the steps, and, pistol in hand, gaze up at the
sloping roof.

"Don't shoot," came a low voice, from the
darker blot of shadow on the edge. "Look out
below — I'm comin' down."

A man slid to the groimd, landing cat-like on
his feet. Jim Marshall, as he picked up his hat
and replaced it on his head, was grinning half<
apologetically at the officer.

"Marshall," said Carroll in a stem tone, "have
you a leave of absence from the captain?"

The frontiersman shook his head.

"This passes all patience, — absent from the
post at such a time as this!" continued the
lieutenant. "Three times this month you have
been absent without leave. You are under
arrest. Brooks, place the prisoner in the guard-
house. The captain will dispose of his case in
the morning."

Marshall raised his hand respectfully to his
hat brim.

"AU right, all right, Ueutenant. I ain't kickin'
none," he remarked, as he followed the marine.

Silently the gray dawn crept over the eastern
hills, and hardly had the last notes of the morn-
ing bugle died away when there was a burst of
firing, and the grumbling, breakfastless men again

THE CAPTAIN'S DEFIANCE 153

rushed to their positions, the frontiersmen to the
roofs and the marines to the gates. The CaU-
formans, profiting by the lesson of yesterday's
attack, had carefuUy concealed themselves, and
not a marksman could be seen, though the bullets
were smgmg above the stockade and kicking
up the dust in the open. High up on the hiU
spurts of smoke broke from the old ramparts, but-
nothing save the protruding rifle barrels were
visible.

"I've got a notion to put a bullet into one
01 them shuttered windows, just to get even "
r^arked a disgusted riflemen, as he primed his

T^"^^u rj^° '^' ^°"^''" P«>tested Jim
Marshall, who had been released when the attack
beg^; ye'd probably kill a woman if ye did
1 11 bet they're watchin' this show through the
cra^. Wait ! See the head of that horse sticking
out from behind that adobe ? "

The frontiersman fired as he spoke, and the
animal, with an agonizing scream, broke its tether
sprang mto fuU view, and rolled over in the
street. A marine, close to Carroll at the east
gate, gurgled and tottered backward, shot through
the neck With his hands on the sand, he raised
his shoulders from the ground, a look of agony
on his face; then the blood spurted in a red streak
from his throat. A moment later a frontiersman

154 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

drew up his legs with a groan, and rolled slowly
off the roof.

The Americans, sobered by the sudden death
of two of their number, were loading rapidly,
and firing deliberately at every puff of smoke.
There was none of the idle chaffing of yesterday,
and their faces wore an expression of tensest
determination. Not for nothing had MacNamara,
the evening before, impressed upon the Cali-
fomians the absolute necessity of keeping under
cover and of changing their positions after each
shot. They were obeying his suggestions faith-
fully, and the bullets of the Americans, though
they crashed into the comers of the buildings and
flicked the dust from the tops of the old ramparts
on the hill, did no execution.

"Flag of truce coming up the street, captain,"
called a marine from the east gate.

"Cease firing," the bugle blared. "Hold your
fire!" called Gillie. "Keep your streets covered
from the gates, but admit them."

The big bars crossing the east gate were
laboriously lifted, and as it yawned open, two
Califomians entered. They stepped quickly to
the center of the stockade, where Gillie awaited
them, his sword point on the groimd, his hands
clasped over the hilt. The young officer in
advance of the white flag halted a few feet in
front of the American, saluted, and brought

THE CAPTAIN'S DEFIANCE 155

his heels together with a military dick, while
his sharp eyes swept the interior of the stockade,
the mounted guns, the two bodies on the ground,
and the men on the roofs.

"Captain GiUie?" he inquired in excellent
English. Gillie nodded.

"I have the honor to make a formal demand
for a surrender of your position."
"What terms have you to offer?"
Along the roofs were seated the frontiersmen,
f acmg the inclosure, their knees drawn up to their
chins, their heels digging into the slanting roofs
As the question asked by the captain reached their
ears there was a unanimous gasp of surprise,
and muttered curses ran along the line as they
looked at one another.

The short-clipped utterance of the Califomian
came clearly to them in the stillness.

"You will haul down your flag, turn over your
arms, horses, and ammunition, and surrender
yourselves as prisoners of war."

Gillie was scanrJng the young man's face
curiously.

"Who are you, anyway?" he asked bluntly.

"Don Jos6 Maria Flores, in command of the
troops now serving under the Mexican fla* in
our territory of Alta California." he said super-
ahously, as he twirled his curled mustache with
a nonchalant air, and glared haughtUy at Gillie.

^li

is6 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

"We have now over three hundred men under
arms," he continued, "and in a few days it will
be a thousand. Your position here is utterly
untenable, and I pledge you my word that the
persons of you and your men shall be unharmed.
You will have four hours to consider the matter."

"The word of a man who has already broken
his parole of honor is but poor security," said
Gillie, not in a taunting tone, but with the air of
one stating a regretable fact.

Flores* face reddened. "When I and the
others gave you our paroles. Captain Gillie,"
he said, not without a certain dignity, "it was
with the understanding that our persons should
be respected. How the promise was kept, let
the story of two nights ago tell. You, captain,
were the first to break the terms of the parole."

"Jehosophat," .chuckled MarshaU, "listen to
that now, will you? He certainly landed one on
the captain that time. There 's more than a grain
of truth in what he says."

Gillie was silent, pondering in his slow way
the last words of Flores. His hand wandered
to his lower lip. Again consternation appeared
in the faces of the men on the roof.

"By God," muttered a frontiersman in a voice
that trembled with indignation, "if he's going to
give up — "

"Now hold your horses, Frank," warned Jim

THE CAPTAIN'S DEFIANCE 157

MarshaU. "Keep cool-keep cool. ThecaDtain
^^s^ral lands of a d^fool. b^\??^

GilHe smiled in his twisted way. "You are

unnecessary. I can answer you now."
inen you surrender?"
The capt^ turned and. pointing toward the

" Ven thar^/' '''' ^^"^ °' ^^« Wier^men!
toT'sf . ^^^!^^ d°^." he said in a louder
Z^nr^ r? *^°^' '' wiU not be taken down by
American hands. Come and take it down your-
selves. Our answer is~nol" he thunde,^. "^

Wkh W ""• "" ^T^ ^^ '"^ °" the roof.
With hats in one hand, their rifles in the other
they cheered him. cheered till their faces were
red. cheered till their voices were hoa,J.le^^

liV^l'ff'^^ '^°"«^ ^^' exhaustb^
They had defied him. they had hated him. th"y
imd ignored and bn>ken all his regula^ns fS^
the govemmg of the post. Most of them had
spent long, wea^ hours in confinement by his
order. They knew, m their careless way. that

themlr"''5°'' ""'^ ^ ^' managem^it of
them and m his relations with the Califomians
Among themselves they had cursed him. many a
tune, fluently, bitterly, and eloquently, to their

word he had come to his own again. Hrwas
u

158 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

their leader— a leader they would follow to the
very gates of hell.

The two Califomians looked up, awed by the
avalanche oi sound.

"Permit me," said Flores courteously, "to
congratulate you on the spirit of your men. It
is 80 different from what one woujid expect,"
he added maliciously. "In ten minutes we
shall resume firing. I have the honor to bid
you good day."

He saluted stifHy and. with his companion,
marched out the stockade gate.

CHAPTER XVI

THB RACE FOR THB HILLTOP

T^ON JOSE MARIA FLORES, commander in
chief of the Californians, was a ncry-^yed,
handsome man of thirty. Grandik r{uent in
speech, pompous in manner, he was nevertheless
a capable and courageous officer.

He had exaggerated but little when he boar.trd
to Gillie that there were now three hundred
Califomians under arms, though the truth was
that only half of them had guns, and those, old
fowling pieces. The rest were armed with lances
made by fastening a steel point to the end of a
ten-foot willow shaft. Under cover of night the
men who had met at the Paredon Bluff had slipped
silently back to the city, leaving their horses in
charge of a squad at the river, or hidden behind
the buildings. When the assault was made on the
stockade, two hundred of them were waiting in the
darkness, across the street, ready to rush the gate
had it given way before the battering ram.

"Bah, it is nothing," said MacNamara, when
the news of the repulse reached them. "Recruits
are coming in every hour We can harass the
Americans night and day, till they will have
time neither to sleep nor to eat. We can simply

159

m
4

i6o THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

tire them out." And this was the plan that had
been adopted.

In an old deserted adobe near the river, well
protected from the American rifles by a dense
peach orchard located on a rise in the ground, the
Califomian officers had established headquarters.
Here, the morning after the attempt to ram the
gate, they were holding a consultation. All
were present except Arillo, who was at San Gabriel
searching for arms; Servolo Palera and Diego
Septdveda, who had left at svmrise in pursuit of
Willard's company; and Vanuela, who was riding
the coimtry between the pueblo and the sea,
warning the rancheros to drive their cattle away
from the beach, so that in case reinforce u.j'nts
for Gillie arrived from the north the invaders
would find no means of sustenance as they marched
inland.

From where they sat on the veranda they could
see, over the tops of the peach trees, the roimded
summit of the hill, and the flagpole of the stockade,
where the American colors fluttered in the morning
breeze. The firing was going on steadily, the
sharp crack of the rifles mingling with the deeper
booming of the escopetas.

"Would it not be well, Almagro, to again
summon them to surrender?" Flores asked of-
MacNamara, who sat at his elbow.

There was respectful deference in the tones of

THE RACE FOR THE HILLTOP 161

the commandant. By judicious use of the subtle
flattexy at which he was an expert, the secret
agent had won for himself a high place in the
regard of Flores.

"Not yet— not just yet," he cautioned. "Ut
this attack continue for at least an hour— long
enough for them to realize that they are again
surrounded, and that we are in earnest this
time."

"Oh, for artillery, for even one cannon," sighed
Flores, "to blow down that accursed gate, and
they would be oxirs."

"Why not wish for a dozen arrobas of powder
or an army of ten thousand from Sonora? It is
easy— wishing," remarked Don Augustin Alvaro
as he took a pinch of snuff. He did not like
Flores, and was at no pains to conceal it.

MacNamara's brows were knit in troubled
thought, and his fingers played nervously in the
depths of his black beard. He had been con-
sidenng the advisability of riding to Santa Bar-
bara, where the British vessels lay at anchor, and
attempting to secure two or three pieces of
cannon from the commodore. But the distance
was great, and he was doubtful of the result.
For though the commodore was well acquainted
with him as Father MacNamara, and was familiar
with the whole matter of the land grant, it was
questionable whether the naval officer would

?' ti

S' itjyLr^s^^v

i62 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

approve of the r61e MapNamara was at present
playing, or that he would give him the guns while
the result of the revolt was still in doubt.

The sound of running feet caused them to turn
their heads, and a red-headed young man shot
across the open space in front of the house, and
rushed up to the veranda. It was Jos6, breathless
and hatless, and as he faced the oflScers, and
leaned with one hand against the veranda post,
he gasped:

' ' A cannon, caballeros ! A cannon ! ' '

"Caramba!" exclaimed Flores, springi^ to his
feet. "Have the Americans unspiked the old
guns? I saw them in the stockade."

"No," panted Jos6; "it is for us. It is in the
garden of Senora Arillo. Mariano is digging it
up now. The senora sent me; she says that it
is time you should have it."

There was now no colorful patch of roses in
the patio of the Arillo home, but instead a yawning
hole where, since the night before the arrival of
Stockton a month before, had been buried the
brass cannon of the plaza, which for years had
stood in front of the church and had roared forth
its salutes on many a feast day.

"For Dios," the senora had said as she rose
that August night from her bed, "the heretics
shall not have the cannon of the church." In
the silent night, with the help of the ever-devoted

THE RACE FOR THE HILLTOP 163

Mariano, she had dragged it to ler garden, the
rawhide thongs bruising her arms, and bringing
the blood dripping from her fingers— all of
which she had borne with a glad, fierce joy for
the greater glory of God.

"Santa Madre, that is welcome news!" ex-
claimed Flores. "Blow the bugle," he com-
manded the boy at his side, "that the firing may
cease. Meanwhile, I will again summon the
Americans to surrender. Do you, Ahnagro, see if
the boy's tale be true; but remember— our word
of honor is pledged. Not a thing of preparation
must' be done while the white flag flies. When
the bugle sounds again, three long notes, the truce
is at an end."

At the end of a second interview with Gillie,
an interview which terminated in a still more
emphatic negative from the American commander,
Flores left the stockade, a grim smile on his hand-
some face. Almost immediately the three bugle
notes rang out, and the firing was resumed more
fiercely than before.

The day was stifling hot, and the men on the
sloping roofs of the stockade swore fervently as
the sweat trickled down their faces and into their
eyes. Marshall was not on the roof. He had
ignored Gillie's orders, and the dang of his
hammer as he bent over his cannon could be
heard occasionally between the bursts of firing.

ffiuun#i'

1 64 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

Suddenly, without warning, the Califomian fire
dwindled down to a few scattering shots, and then
ceased. From the north end of the plaza came
thundering cheers — cheers in which there was a
joyous note of triumph.

Marshall, dropping his hammer, rushed to the
west gate, climbed upon the ledge, and craned his
neck over the wall. For a moment he stood as
rigid as a statue.

"There you are. Gillie," he roared, jumping
down from the ledge and throwing up his arms
in his excitement. "Come here and see that gtm
I told you about two weeks ago, and you would n't
believe me. There it is now, coming down the
street.

"Shoot, you fellows up there, shoot!" he
yelled. "For God's sake, shoot! Get the men
aroimd that gun!"

"They are going up the hill with it," shouted
a man on the roof, and the rifles of the frontiers-
men broke out in a scattering volley. But it
was too late; both men and cannon had already
disappeared beyond the church.

Marshall acted like one possessed. Placing
a file in the vent of the caimon, he rained on it
thundering blows with a sledge, his face red and
the sweat trickling down his cheeks. Suddenly
the file gave way and sank half its length
into the hollow of the gtm.

^^?ie¥^'SSaBB«'

"iiir*'#i£"t.ii>ir»i.'i

THE RAC|: FOR THE HILLTOP 165

"Through, by God!" he panted.

"Here, boys, tome down oflf that roof," he
roared, "and empty your cartridges— quick,
for Ck,d's sake!" He bit the end of a pape;
cartridge and emptied the contents into his
big hat. In one minute the hat was full, the gun
loaded and rammed. Gillie, utterly ignored in
the excitement, stood fingering his Up and staring
moodily at the scene of feverish activity.

"Open the gate!" Marshall shouted in authori-
tative tones. "Quick, now! Who's comin- with
me to the top of the hill? They've got the
start, but let us race them for it. Come on
bo3rs." '

With a glad shout, a dozen grasped the rawhide
axle ropes and dragged the reeling gun across the
street. It was a heavy, clumsy thing, but there
were twelve strong men on the ropes, and up the
steep east slope they clambered, now falling and
shppmg, now grasping the grass roots and pro-
jectmg stones.

Breathless with excitement and anxiety, the
men m the stockade watched them. It was
a race for the top of the hill, and the winner of
the race would command the town. For if the
Califomians, now clambering up the hidden
north slope, reached the top first, the little
gamson at the stockade would be at their mercy
Marshall and his men were close to the top when

i66 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

\ !

the gun, toppling over and on its side, slipped
downward, and a groan broke from the anxious
watchers at the wall. But Marshall, ever in the
advance, at the end of the longest riata, quick as
lightning snubbed it over a projecting stone,
holding it securely till again the gun was righted.

"Cover the top of the hill," ordered Carroll,
"and fire at the first head that appears. Do not
wait for orders. Pire on sight."

On struggled Marshall and his men, close to the
top now, working like fiends. At last the gun
rolled easily over the flat* space on the stunmit
of the hill. Over it for an instant bent a marine.
Then, with a roar, it spit a rolling burst of white
smoke, shrouding the men on the hill in billowing
clouds.

A breathless moment, — then, as the smoke
drifted away, the men around the old field piece
threw up their rxii^s, danced like maniacs, and
the hills re€chocd ^neir shouts of triumph.

Marshall had won the race; the Americans had
captured the hill.

The single shot aimed by the marine had
struck the enemy's gun fairly, knocking it from its
carriage and ttunbling it down the hill, while its
defenders rushed madly for cover, leaving one
of their number dead on the slope.

At the west wall all were cheering wildly — all
except Carroll. He did not hear them. His

THE RjACE FOR THE HILLTOP 167

heart vms heivy within him. In his cars were
nnging the words of the Indian woman:

"Blood shall smear your path. Sad and long
IS the way, and fiUed with woe."

m,t

CHAPTER XVII

THB MIDNIGHT SORTIB

CAPTAIN GILLIE was sadly shaken by
the events of the last few hotirs. As a
subordinate, carrying out the clearly defined
orders of a superior officer, his conscientious
attention to detail would have brought to him
a large measure of success. But in an environ-
ment like the present, where quick thought and
instantaneous action were an absolute necessity,
he was completely at sea. For the first time
since taking command of the garrison, he con-
sulted with his officers. Lieutenants Carroll and
Somers, as to the best course to follow. The
captain was considering the advisability of leaving
the stockade and joining Marshall on the hilltop,
though he recognized that the attempt would
be attended by considerable danger and possible
loss of life.

They were seated at the table in the captain's
office. Gillie haggard and depressed, Carroll with
something of the old happy light in his eyes (he
was thinking of the midnight message), Somers,
as ever, somber and silent.

"Since you wish my opinion, captain," Carroll
was saying, "I am certainly in favor of an

168

THE MIDNIGHT SORTIE 169

umnediate retreat l^th^ hilltop. One determined
rush, and it can be done."

As Gillie looked at Somers inquiringly the
walls of the room creaked, the floor shook, and a
^duU reverberation as of a disUnt cannonade
boomed under their feet.

"An earthquake," observed Gillie.

Carroll was staring in amazement at Somers.
The second heutena.it was ghastly pale, his eyes
mde op«i m horror, his face distorted in the most
abject ffear. With both hands he clung to the
^e of the table, as though to save himself from

Again the room creaked and the ground beneath
them quivered. Somers, trembling in every limb,
laid his head on his crossed arms and moaned
piteously. Carroll stared at him in uncompre-
nendmg wonder.

As tf with an effort, the second lieutenant
lifted his head, rose to his feet, and without word
or sign, walked unsteadily out of the door

C^oll met the captain's gaze questioningly.
Could It be that Lieutenant Somers was a coward?
Carroll had seen men under fire, and facing death
in various forms. He knew the physical signs
of fear, and if ever terror had been written on a
man s countenance it had shown in the face of
Somers. What could there be in a "temblor "
common enough in southern California to

iLi

170 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

bring such a look of ashen dread tio the cheeks
of a man and a soldier? *

But Gillie seemed not greatly surprised. "You
must not misunderstand Lieutenant Somers,"
he said. "He is a brave man, but he has been
through one terrible earthquake. It always affects
him so. I noticed it firat when we had those
two slight quakes a month ago. It is often the
case, they say, with many who have seen an
earthquake in all its horror. It means nothing,
and will pass in a few minutes."

Somers reentered the room, his face still some-
what pale but composed.

"Pardon me, gentlemen," he said, in his usual
calm tones, as he resumed his seat at the table.
"We were discussing the question of a retreat up
the hill. I am heartily in favor of it."

But the captain, who still had hopes of the
return of Benito Willard's company, believed that
they would arrive during the course of the day.
His suggestion that the attempt to reach the
hilltop be deferred tmtil night was adopted. But
the hopes of Gillie in this respect were to be
shattered directly.

"Gee whilikens, hear them yell," remarked a
marine at the east gate, during the afternoon.
"Wonder if the greasers found another can-
non?"

Prom down the street leading to the river came

THE MIDNIGHT SORTIE ,7,

iVlV^ii.^*^^ yeu. loud and prolonged.
, At CarroU s orders the men sprang to the waUs,
their pieces loaded and primed. A large detach-
ment of mounted men was approaching, the
Mexican flag fluttering at their head, the ends
of their long, upright lances resting in their
stiiTup straps. Boldly they rode up the street
and turning, passed, as if in review, before the
stockade gate. CarroU. who had been watching
them with a puzzled frown on his face, for their
mwiner was anything but hostile, suddenly
called out: '

"Ground arms, men! Do not fire! My God I
they have captured Willard and his meni"

Surrounded by a double line of horsemen, rode
the twenty captured members of the militia
company. Matt Harbin, his left arm in a slini?
and Bwiito Willard. a blood-stained rag around
his head, glanced up at the row of anxious faces
above the waU. with an embarrassed air. As
Willard caught sight of the flag waving above the
stockade his dejected face brightened; he threw
up his arm in an appealing gesture, then gravely
saluted the colors.

At the head of the column, on a gayly capari-
soned horse, rode Servolo Palera. his head erect,
his beanng glad and triumphant. But even as
he looked up into the faces of the Americans he
smiled, a smile in which there was none of the

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172 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

dark maliciousness that set some of his men
jeering viciously at the riflemen.

"Your turn is yet to come, senores," cried one,
with mock politeness.

"We shall invite you soon to join yowc fi lends,"
shouted another Califomian — remarks which
Carroll translated for the Americans who could
not tmderstand Spanish.

It was Flores who had ordered the bold and
spectacular parade past the stockade, knowing
full well that the garrison would not fire, as there
would be grave danger cf wounding the prisoners,
and hoping that the moral effect of the capture
would bring about a surrender.

The commandant was a Mexican, not a Cali-
fomian, and his knowledge of Americans was
slight indeed. They were as much without fear
as they were without malice. To the men in
the stockade, confident of the ultimate triumph
of the United States, the struggle was nothing
more than a game, a modification of the game
that they had been playing for years, with other
antagonists, — hunger, cold, thirst, and savage
Indians. If by some strange turn of events
peace had come instantly, they would have been
willing to share their last crust, and their last
coin, if it were needed, with their former enemies.
But while the game lasted they were playing it
good-humoredly, but with all the intensity and

THE MIDNIGHT SORTIE ,73

Kto t*?! *%^«'r^«°". -d they would
play It to the end as long as a shred of hope

™?he ?^,-'^^« *-PP-ed in JZ
toward the Califomian headquarters.

Quickly the preparations for leaving the stock-
ade went on. during the afternoon. ThetL^^.
tion and provisions were gathered into compact
bundles and cinched on the backs of the hXs
The remaining gun. though still unspiked. was
taken from its rude carriage and lashed to the
crosstrees of a pack saddle.

wl,n^°"'/T^^'^''"'^y^^^^^"*^°^tSomers,
who stood close to him watching the scene o
busthng activity, noted the deepened melancholy

wLl%r^' ^^'^' ^"^^ti^ely be felt that he
was in the presence of a sorrow such as few men
ever know and his sympathetic heart went oS
to his sad-faced comrade. With this thought in
his mmd he said quietly:
''That quake seemed to startle you. lieutenant."

Though neither rude nor resentful, there was
yet that m the smgle spoken word that made
further reference to the occurrence impossible.

At michught Carroll reported to the captain
that everythmg was ready for the sortie. Instruc
tions were given to ride down the street silently
and m case of attack to rush to the foot of the
ascent and climb the hill as rapidly as possible
12

174 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

The horses loaded with the supplies were placed
in the center, under charge of Somers; Gillie
himself took charge of the van, while Carroll
brought up the rear.

Over the yellow sand of the street, the glaring
white of the adobe walls, and the inky shadows
there brooded a heavy and oppressive silence as
the creaking gates swung open. The column of
horsemen, marching out six abreast, turned slowly
into the moonlit street, and walked quietly past
the dark verandas toward the foot of the slope.
Not a sotmd could be heard but the soft putter
of hoofs in the sand, the creak of saddles, and
the excited breathing of the men. Already the
heavily loaded horses in the center of the group
had reached the slope, and were climbing upward,
the stones trickling from their scrambling feet
down into the roadway. It seemed as though the
short journey was to be made without interruption.

But. suddenly gims bellowed up and down the
street, bullets hissed above their heads, and a
wild whirl of mounted men was upon them.

"Go on, boys!" shouted Carroll. "We will
hold them." With three mounted frontiersmen
on either side, he turned to meet the charge.
Suddenly his horse, a lance point in its throat,
reared and screamed in agony, and Carroll fired
his pistol at the moimted man before him. Then
his horse went down, and he scrambled to his feet.

THE MIDNIGHT SORTIE 175

saber m hand, to find himself staring up into the

eyes of Don Jos6 Antonio. P "»«> tne

"Surrender, Sefior CarroU." said Arillo as their

swords crossed. "I would not willingly ha^^

So kinc so gentle, so just was the voice, that

[houghr^"'''' ^^°" ""^ ^^"^"^ °^ ^^*^«

fJl^l^. ^'°" ^"«^* ^^^ ^^^ before him;
the huddled press of struggling men and plunging
horses faded mto darkness. A strange sound like
the song of a distant river hummed in his ears and
he felt himself sinking, falling. through^S
reahns of black midnight space.

§1

N) ni

v:i

^^M

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FAITH OP SERVOLO P.

.RA

A BIRD was singing in the tree overhead.
"^^ Carroll opened his eyes, and stared at the
gently swa3ang leaves above him. Somewhere
close at hand was the sound of voices and the lisp
of moving water. Gray were the ridges with the
passing of early dawn, as a creeping radiance
whitened the eastern sky. From where he lay,
his head pillowed on a folded serape, he could
see a line of men sprawling along the river bank,
and farther away several motmted Califomians
under the white limbs of a crooked sycamore.
He raised his head, but a sharp stab of pain shot
through his shoulders, a deadly nausea gripped
him, and he sank back with a moan.

"Feeling better, lieutenant?"

He raised his pain-wrenched eyelids to look
into the face of Benito Willard.

"Here, taice a sip of this." Willard passed hi^
arm about Carroll's shoulders, and, raising him
to a sitting position, pressed a flask of wine to his
lips.

"What happened?" inquired Carroll, groping in
his memory for the events of the night. "Did
they get up?"

176

THE FAHH OP SERVOLO PALERA 177

"Yes, they got up aU right; but they lost most
of their provisions. Flores thinks they will have
to surrender soon. Jixniny. but that was a wal!
lop you got ! Let me look at that head "

Carroll raised his hand to his brow and touched

ThrTh- ^^°°^-^^°"^d hair. His head was still
throbbing fiuiously. but the nausea was gone,
and with the red wine flooding his veins he fel
a quick accession of turning strength

bearmg baskets filled with food for the prisoners
Fir^ had already been Hghted. and the appet^lTg
odor of boHmg coffee floated on the moSng air

Carr^r '^ ^'^ ^°"' "^P*^'" ^«^

''Caught us at the Chino Rancho. When we

got to niy ranch and found that it was aU moon-

S^L'^'l?^''^ "^^^ ^ ^^^ Cucamon^
ZTr. ^^^ '"^^ ^"°"Sh gone to Sonora-we
decided to go to the mountains and hunt bear for

w n ^^f°"^^^y^^°"g comes John Rowland
news that there was the very devil to pay. Con-

"^w ,f ..^^r^ ^°°^ ^^^^ ■ It '« a" his fault.
Chilu . c^nti^^^ed. "we all marched to
Chino. hopmg to get a new supply of powder there,
for we had used nearly all of ours on the bears.
In the mormng Servolo Palera and his men had
surrounded us. and pretty soon they made a

178 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

charge on the ar' )bc8 where we were. We gave
them a volley — knocked one young fellow —
Ballestos was his name — out of his saddle,
dead as a door nail. Too blamed bad, too';
he was a nice young chap. That's his twin
brother over there on the big bay horse by the
sycamore. Pretty soon I saw it was no use.
Our powder was all but gone, and they had set
fire to the roof; so it was either bum or give up.
So when Servolo Palera came to the door and
gave me his word that we would not be harmed,
but would be treated as prisoners of war, we
came out and gave up otv guns. Don Servolo 's
all right; he'll keep his word. Damn Gillie,
anyway; he's a fool. I'll bet Plores has robbed
my store in the city by t*iis time."

Willard helped himself liberally to the frijoles
that one of the Indian women placed before him,
and then added, "I wish the dam fuss was over.
It can have but one end, anyway. Why, there's
my wife!" he cried, as he sprang to his feet.

Two women were hurrying out of the peach
orchard toward the river, and Willard and Harbin
stepped forward to meet them. In their arms
they carried bundles of clothing for their husbands.
Though their dark faces were troubled, they bore
up, with a brave attempt at carelessness.

Carroll was listening idly to the badly accented
Spanish of the two Americans as they assured

THE T'AITH OF SERVOLO PALERA 179

their wives that there was no danger, and they
would doubtless be released on parole in a few
days, when a footfall behind him caused him to
start. Painfully he turned his head, and looked
into the eyes of Loreto Arillo.

For a moment the girl gazed at him in dumb
agony, at his unshorn and haggard face, his
soiled and bedraggled uniform, the streak of
clotted blood on his brow.

"Jos6 told me, but now," she panted, "and
I came. Mother does not know. Oh, Juan,
Juan," she moaned, "they have hurt thee."

The lieutenant had risen shakily to his feet,
tumultuous gladness surging through his soul.'
Ignoring all conventionalities, defying every
tradition of her race and her training, obedient
only to the call of her heart, she had come to him.
He forgot the war, forgot his wound, forgot
everything save the joy that flooded his soul at
this conclusive evidence of her constancy. In
trance-like ecstasy he threw his arms about her,
and drew her to him, murmuring, "You came
to me ! You came — to me ! "

For the first time his lips met hers in a long,
passionate pressure. Then her hcjad sank on his
shoulder.

"Ah Juan, Juan, I fear it can never be," she
sobbed. "Father himself has said so."
For only this morning, Don Jos6 Antonio,

i8o THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

returning from the deathbed of one of his dearest
friends, shot down during the skirmish at the foot
of the hill, had said, sadly but firnly, in answer
to the unspoken question in her eyes, "No,
child, no- it must not be. Set thy mind to forget
him; there is now too much blood between our
peoples."

The Don knew nothing of Carroll's capture.
Engaged in the ei.-»rt to save his wounded friend,
he had lost sight of Carroll in the m616e. The
attacking party, broken in two by a \olley and a
counter-charge from the Americans, and satisfied
with their capture of severstl of the provision-laden
horses, had galloped away — Arillo and his men
northwar i toward the plaza, while the remainder,
tearing with them the unconscious form of
C&rroll, had ridden down the street in the opposite
direction. Vanuela had ordered Carroll plated
with the other prisoners, and had not seen fit to
notify Arillo of his capture.

Bitter, too, was the feeling among the Cali-
fomians at Gillie's stubborn resistance, a resistance
that, under the circumstances, they c».uld neither
understand nor appreciate. To them it seemed
but stupid obstinacy, and a reckless disregard
for human life. Equally bitter was the animosity
toward Willard and his men for having taken
up arms against the land that, for many years,
had given them a home and a welcome. The

'^ FAITH OF SERVOLO "ALERA .g.

was tnumphant never again would an rooricanbe
allowed to reside in the country. Arillo i^
-ted the iu^ice of the decisi^. but he wS

l!r ^ •''• '"."'* ""'*■■ '-^-d. the Americans
w«e «cto„ous they would possibly deal haiSty
with the men who had broken their parZ
Rductantly. he had been driven to the cond^™
that, m any event, there was but grief and bitter-

to plam duty to withdraw his consent to the
engagement.

At the girl's unexpected words, at the sieht
of her face dark with sorrow, Camiu's hea^ X

Tc^^. ""^ "^ "^ throbbed, »dX
sicJcening nausea swept ove- him

"Loreto, L^to." he moaned. "I camiot. I

^11 -t gr^ve thee up. i, there no hope? '

I iove thee, Juan. Come what may, I shall

ZZ'JZV'"''' ' "^ "-- love'^knottf
But everythmg and eve.y one is against us^'

.trLrr? ^^^' miserably, wnile the tears
streamed down her face.

Carroll, racked with mental and physical agrny

^But, Ix,reto-after the war is over-I v.iU
"No, no. Jack." There was utter hopelessness

■ 9*

If I

i8a THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

in her voice. "No more will Americans be
allowed in the land. But, if thou canst come, I
will go with thee, anywhere."

A sharp command from the horsemen under
the trees, and Willard and Harbin released them-
selves from the arms cf their wives. Loreto
stood for a moment, sobbing silently, then she
threw her arms around Carroll's neck and kissed
him frantically.

"Parewell, Juan, my love. Farewell— perhaps
for the last time. God bless and protect thee.
We may never meet again."

"We shall," protested Carroll with pale lips,
lips on which there was something aldn to a grim
smile. "Fear not, dearest, I will come, I will
come for thee."

Little he dreamed in whit guise he would come
again to Loreto Arillo.

As she turned away, Seflora Willard took the
heart-broken girl in her arms, and the tears of
the women mingled. Carroll stood speechless.
Around him the trees, the hills, the sky were
whirling wildly.

As the prisoners, shepherded by the grim-faced
horsemen, waded the shallow stream, the lieuten-
ant paused to look back at the motionless figures
of the three grieviiig women. Ballestos, who
was riding dose to him, brought his long lance
down heavily across the lieutenant's shoulders
and snapped:

- 0.

THE FAITH OP SERVOIX. PAL2RA .83

"Keep in line there, and face to the front."

CotoU was stiU weak and shalcy. and the

Jt.ff blow «t hu neck muscles aching in agony

Harbm close to him. muttered a cLejT^'

Sstm"""^ step, and paling face, 'h^

MacNamara, riding at the reo: of the line
had seen the blow, but gave no si,.. Hi! Zk
face was heavy with troubled thought. Md^
fingers groped in the depths of hi, blri. ^^
was cause for his uneasiness. Th^ on tt!

^gocd reason for suspecting that many of , .«

U^it^ S*. """"^ "^^ "'"■Kth of the
Umted States, were at heart doubtful of the
success of the revolt. He was beriLtoi, ^
«^t that they saw in it but a m^fo^
from the Amencans honorable te.-ms of capitu-
lation if an overwhehning force should Snl
upon them out of the east.
Though Flores and most of the army were

T^rt 'f""'^*''^' he sensed great da^
m the lack of enthusiasm noticeabte in AriU^
A^var^ Garfias, and Cota. True, they^
aU tabng an active and efficient part in^
Pr«en mj.tary operations, and would be ZlZ
to fight agamst the invaders when they ap^''
but he suspected it would be only for fhe^^

i84 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

of salving their injured dignity, and forcing
forgiveness for the broken paroles, and not with
any hope of ultimate victory.

Eugene MacNamara was a man of one idea—
the glory and prestige of the British Empire.
His command of Castilian was such that none in
the pueblo dreamed he was aught but the Spaniard
he claimed to be, while his miUtary bearing
confirmed the rumor that he had seen service in
the old land. His Irish name was but an acci-
dental legacy from some forgotten ancestor, who
iiad bequeathed to him nai^ght else but a certain
quickness of thought and keenness of perception
Apart from these Celtic attributes, the man was
EngUsh in heart and soul. Something, he was
thinking, would have to be done to make the
diasm between the gente de razon and the
Americans so impassable that no reconciUation
would be possible. Now was the time, while
the tide of anger was flooding high in the hearts
of the Califomians.

It was at this moment that the heavy lance of
Ballestos feU across the shoulders of CarroU
and the EngHshman noted the Califomian's fierj^
eye and heard his muttered oath.

His countenance settled into an expression of
gnm hardness; he urged his horse forward, until
he rode side by side with Ballestos. Leaning
in his saddle, he whispered long and earnestly.

THE FAITH OF SERVOLO PALERA 185

The line 01 prisoners traHed snake-like over
the long brown rise beyond the river. As they
swung to the south, through a hollow. Willard
who had been glancing back suspiciously at the
two, heard MacNamara's cold voice: "Once done
BaUestos, it would soon be forgotten and forgiven ''
The Califomian, a baleful Ught in his face
nodded, and smiled a cruel little smile that showed
his sharp white teeth.
"Halt!"

MacNamara walked his horse over to the
guards, and gave some whispered orders. They
dipped from their steeds, and carefully primed
theu- escopetas.

^ ''My God," gasped Willard, whose quick eye
had noted the preparations, "they are going to
shoot us!" 6 "i« w

"You wiU have just ten minutes to pray and to
write any messages you may wish to send your
fnends; I promise you that they shaU be delivered
And then—the execution wiU take place. "Mac-
Namara drew a notebook from his clothes, tore
out a handful of leaves, and handed them to
one of the guards, who distributed them to the
horror-striken men.

"You bloodthirsty dogs." roared Harbin, "you
wul aU swmg for this when Stockton comes back ' "
^ Carroll knew warfare. He had seen its horrors
in Cuba. He knew that the anger and resentment

i86 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

following a day's engagement often led to indis-
cretions, regretted on the morrow. He understood
the revenge of Ballestos. Though all California
might repudiate the slaughter after it was over,
nothing would then alter the grim fact.

Men look death in the face with varying
demeanors. He noted almost idly that one man,
whose hardihood and bravery he knew full well,
had collapsed with mental and physical fear.
Another great, overgrown boy was protesting
with theatrical fervor that he "would die like a
man." Of one thing he was sure; he would not
die without some effort 'to forestall the end.
Life, in spite of its vicissitudes, was still very
sweet. He looked at the line of doomed men,
most of whom were dumb with horror. They
stood silent, some idly folding the papers, some
writing in feverish haste.

The fixed features of MacNamara, he observed,
were intently bent on him; for the Englishman
was a judge of men, and he feared that Carroll
would be the one to prevent the execution, if
such a thing were at all possible.

When Carroll's note was written the secret
agent reached for it, but Ballestos intercepted
it.

"Pardon me, Senor Ahnagro," he said haughtily,
"this note is addressed to me."

MacNamara frowned; then smiled.

THE FAITH OP SERVOLO PALERA 187

cl^^^^" Pf ed when he read it, and held it
denched, while his eyes went to the ground.
MacNamara was anxious and impatient.

corner'' *""'•" "'^ "^^P"^^- "^^'^'

But Ballestos, ever a vacillating man, was

perplexed and alarmed. Vengeful though he J^

Lll'^"l\''r ^'"^^- The Americans had

^^ I. r^'' '^'' *^^^ "^"^^ ^^^^ ^^--^ in
return But here was one feature he had failed

to reahze, for CarroU's note read :

o "^^ ^^ murder me without giving me th*»
services of a priest, my soul wiU hatStVol S^ou^h
We until death, and thereaf t^vSl p^^ "f 5
throughout the borders of hell, ^th^^eof
our common faith, I demand a priestT

Ballestos was astounded to find the American
officer a Catholic. Aside from that, his sui^
stitious soul thrilled with fear at the thought t^t
the man though dead, might fuIfiU his terrible
threat. Glancing toward Carroll, he noted that
the heutenant had sunk to his knees, and was
crossmg himself .

j^J^°"^ a ^ord. he handed the note to Mac

"Stuffl" declared MacNamara. "Let the exe-
cution proceed. "

But BaUestos objected. He asked if there
was not some way to comply with the American's

'Mm

■mi

i88 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

request? Priests were plentiful, but there were
none to be had at the present moment. Perhaps,
in twenty minutes, one could be brought from
the main command, farther down the river. It
would be better; the men lu rst die, but it would
be quite as effective to hold off the execution for
half an hour; Carroll's request was surely within
his rights.

So he reasoned while MacNamara fumed.
Moments slipped away. Carroll watched the
parley, grimly determined that, while he would
line up ostensibly to be shot, he would make a
fight for his life. WheA the men faced the
muskets, he determined to drop beneath the
bullets' level and, rushing mto the firing squad,
throw confusion into the executioners. Probably
he would be shot or beaten to death, but he would
make a fight for it. Already he had accomplished
something. Had he not written the note and
caused the delay, twenty-six bleeding corpses
would now be lying on the groimd. He presumed
they would not tie his hands. With the little case
knife concealed within his shirt, he would stab
and stab and stab, until the darkness of death
ended everything. He proposed to die like an
American and a soldier, and perhaps — perhaps —
after all, there was some hope. He might escape.
The horses were standing with drooping reins
close at hand. A quick dash, and once in a

THE FAITH OP SERVOLO PALERA .89
^ he would have a fair chance for life ^

Still n'«»;« - • t.. *«»«>«rance of her constancy
w^ to^^ » *« e«.. the chaBce of happing
was to be shattered at his Kps. The basest
co^ „ev^ feared death mo« than ^L^V
aUbecauseofher. Never before in aU his exkt^~

keen as m the bnef penod since he had known her
lo™, and suffered the estrangement.
His mind was pUying him que^ pranks f™-

Z^:t "'".•"^ ^^'^'^ ^. he
saddle lying on the ground near by The <mC

o1'hnth^t^'^*°**«'^»<='<'»ts

t,.J^ °*^r ?^ ^^ "^S"" to nenre themselves
for the ordeal. Beyond the blue hills,^^^
peaceful jymmetry. the arehing azur^ Z eav^

sweetness of hfe. CarroU had passeci a locket

about it s^^:'^Dy:X',J^:tZr'^
The parley between MacNamara and BaUestos

••f

190 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

still continued, the Englishman insistent, scorn-
ful, the other troubled and hesitating,

"Your brother went to meet his God unshriven.
Will you do more for these, his murderers?"
MacNamara sneered.

Ballestos forgot his superstitious fears, his
religious scruples. He remembered only his twin
brother, shot out of his saddle at Chino by the
very men now before him. He groimd his teeth,
and threw his hand upward in a motion of assent.

The doomed men were ranged in line in front
of the Califomians, \»ho stood with the butts of
their escopetas on the ground, scarce ten feet away.
The firing squad gazed curiously at the men about
to die. They were impatient, for Carroll's note
had caused nearly half an hour's delay. The
lieutenant's head was throbbing again, but he
rallied his strength to stand erect, noting carefully
the man who was to send him to death. His
hands we^e not tied, and he determined to find
the rifleman's heart with his knife at the first
encounter. After that he world cut right and
left, till the daylight vanished.

MacNamara's sharp eye observed him fumbling
in his jacket.

"Search that man," he ordered.

Two Califomians sprang upon Carroll. As
he resisted feebly, the knife dropped to the
ground and was picked up by one of the guards.

iii:

THE FAITH OP SERVOLO PALERA .,.

," * ^, i^°^- ^<i fight it out.
gro^r" ^' ««- «- -i^ted from the
^^ftesent!" He looked down a gUstening g„„

CarroU's amis were bent, his muscles t^„t
h« fists clenched; his blooihot ey™S

Signal word. He was crouchine for a ]nv^ e« •
at the man before him. when a^tt^ 'Z^l
nausea swept over hhn. In spite of hir^h"!
muscles rela,-ied and his eyes closed -TZ'tv.
umveise rocked about him. ^ **

A rush of hoofs, a dark mass between him »„rf
the sky, a clatter of steel on g^ZX Sd
«.e heutenant half opened his eyTto^^^f
Palera, sword in hand, striking down theTs<3^°

™ior^"^'''^^-'^''"^^-^«'^P^^^g

thl^H'™^"'*/"" ^^'■" ^^ "ared. "By

sSorrsiJSoir.''r:^:3^

a. a man and a Christian, that^ti-rL^sCM

xpa THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

not be injured. And not one h' . of their heads
shall be banned while a drop / blood flows in
my veins."

Swinging his horse about to face MacNamara
and Ballestos, "Sangre de Cristo!" he panted
"You son of the devil, Almagro, you would
have done murder, and you, Ballestos, when
I heard you were in charge of the prisoners, I
feared the worst — you two are no Christian gen-
tlemen, but heathen Goths. I saw the signs of
your deviltry from yonder hill; had my horse
not been a fleet one, these men would now be
dead." »

The men stood silent, awed by the nearness of
the death they had escaped. Willard alone was
grinning maliciously.

"You wait, you little skunk," he snered at
Ballestos, "I'll get you for this somehow, some-
where. See if I don't."

For Carroll the strain had been too great.
With all the strength of which his pain-racked
body was capable, he had keyed himself to meet
death fighting. Then had come the shock of
utter relief. As the landscape faded from his
sight, he swayed, tottered, and fell forward on
his face.

Palera, at the sotmd, swung his horse arotmd,
and stared down curiously at the tmconscious
figure ou the groimd.

THE KUTH OF SERVOLO PALERA .„
JW^ is he?" h..i„q^. „ ,, „^ ^

tu2«^,Tn?^^ «rf Gillie's command, ca;^
turedatthe hUl last night," responded Willard.

^y the orders of PaI#>ro « 1*4
J-^me sapHngs'g^tTg L ^hoZw^d
the pnsoners only too gladly carried tt71^
saoas man over the hills to fhe^Th ~""

^^"l- ^'^'^ "*« P""^"" Bluff

the ht.. ga«d do™"^i^^s-=^:r'e

Ihou, ' he musprf "a^ *i.

bughw my ,i,c";eT t tSi ':ordif 2 ^

l^ee^ven as i^^'^l'^k^^Z^^^^

s<.n^rtS-^,---tr^

it i :

•.4;«

CHAPTER XIX

THB SNARL OF THE WOLP

'pO an adobe in the deep gulch behind the
•■■ Paredon Bluff, Palera led the prisoners.
Hardly had they arrived when a messenger, riding
hurriedly, summoned Servolo to headquarters.
In r ^ite of the pleading protests of the Americans,
he obeyed the order, assuring them that they
had nothing further to fear, an«.l that he would
return as soon as possible. , Bereft of his protecting
presence, the fear of the prisoners grew. Would
his influence prevail against that of Almagro (as
the Englishman was known to the Califomians)
and the vengeful Ballesto?. or would a few hours
later see the attempt of the morning carried to a
bloody ccaclusion? I'here was not a man but
dreaded what the day might bring forth. Many
of them were already planning resistance.

The building was bare of comforts; there were
neither beds nor blankets; the wounds of the
injured had not been dressed since theii* arrival
from Chino, two days before. Carroll lay on the
naked earthen floor, breathing heavily; the kindly
attempts of Willard and Harbin to revive him
had proved ineffectual. As the sim climbed noon-
high, there was no sign of preparation for the
midday meal.

194

THE SNARL OP THE WOLF ,95

Suddenly the door was darkened by the black-
robed fipire of a priest. As he ente,cd, ; . drew

Do any of you wish to confe«?" he inqui^.

fa,^ If tK • *"** *■"' '°"°'^ Ws words, the
t^r ^' ?"r«".i»>«»- Hi, question seemed
to bear homble significance.

by"^me^^" T""* " ^'""^hn^m. Roubidouz
by name, de end come quick now,-dey »oin'

It^l"" ^ "^- ™« ^«" ^ ^ ^"^ot

"No no," protested Padre Estenaga, "my
~m«g here has nothing to do with the mUnt^
^e government m regard to you. I heard that
.^e of you were sick and wounded, and thought
that my services might be needed "

h.^**'*!:!^ ^*' °' ^""^'^ recumbent figure.

^^Z.f°^'^,'° ^- '""'""<* ^y WiUard. who
raplamed m a low tone: "Lieutenant CarroU ot
GUhe's command. He'sinabad way-W™
the head. We had to cany him fr^n the ritS.™
The pr,est looked into the face of the uncon-
soous man. noted his flushed cheeks and hoar^
brea hmg. and nodded. Then he ran his ^
dow^y around the room, as if counting the numbS

humed out of the room. Through the open door
madly down the gulch, toward the pueblo

196 THB DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

"He it lure in A big hurry, getting out ot' here.
I mm still mooch icare, me," and Roubidoux, itill
full of gloomy forebodings, regretted that he had
not taken advantage of the opportunity to avail
himself of the services of the church.

It was well after midday, and all inquiries I
regard to food had been met by the disdainful
shrugs of the guards. A voice at the door, rich
with the ful iccent of old Spain, caused Harbin
to start.

"I guess you are right, Roubidoux," he admitted
despairingly. "There's that damned Spaniard
again. Hear the old-country twang? Palera
has been overruled at headquarters. Prepare
for the worst, boys. Rush the guards as they
enter the door, and try to get their guns. We'll
die fighting, anyway.*'

But Harbin was mistaken. It was Don Eulogio
de Celis, a Spaniard, a long resident in the pueblo,
who entered the r x)m, accompanied by Arillo
and an English doctor, named "Richard Den.
The latter hurried at once toward Cirroll, and
busied himself administering restoratives.

Don Jos6 Antonio stood silent, his fine face red
with sudden anger as his full gaze took in the
bare room, the naked earthen floor, the anxiety
on the faces of the captives. Turning quickly
to the door, he shouted a sharp command, and a
dozen servants led by Mariano entered, bearing

THE SNARL OP THE WOLF ,„
^^btankeu, «d Udceu »f food fo, the

«S.ilf .^v" ".^y ''*" ''*««>•" the Don
^Z^ ' ""*^'"'*'«>'''«»n Padre Estenaga
of your capture, and the condition of the pri^
I»^d not have tao„„ «^„, being abseM ^
an hour ago at the outpoet at Palo, VerdT
And that-that of this nxMrnng. Holy Mott«
;^. _*«ne and a reproach to'U 1^ „d o^i

to^i^t^Tl!'*^ "'* indignation, and as if
to relieve his feelmgs. he turned quickly to the
P«rd^who had clustered inqui^tivdy ab^
- S 1°";.""? ""^ '"*" " »nte^P?ul

t W«r?f ? "^w ""y- ^*"' " « half
k i^l^ ', °""T''' *• ""JO^J. with an
«..Jarrassed smile, as he noted the hunery men
busy over the baskets of food. "Por K^TtS
feUows must aU chew tobacco. Huny. M^ii^
to^e pueblo, and bring a big bo^BS^

As his hand grasped CarroH's in paniae the
hemenant held it fast, and his Hps utte^^^ ^,
questionmgword. "Loreto?"

For a moment the face of Don Jos« Antonio
fTthw r" fi.««ffictmg emotions. F^
for the future of his daughter, and regard Z

iqs the dons of the old pueblo

the man whose pain-laden eyes lcK>ked up at him
beseechingly, battled within his soul.

"The good God be merciful to us all, Senor
Carroll," he sighed. "We are being carried on
l}y a tide that cannot be controlled. Whither,
neither thou nor I may know. What I might
say avails but little. It is not for me to decide,
but for the good God, who they say is also the
God of battles. We are all in His hands. Think
of it not at all. Rest and sleep. Doctor Den
shall come to you each day till you are recovered.
I shall tell my daughter that you are now in no
danger," he added, with a! forced reserve, "and
that you inquired for her." Formal as his words
seemed, they implied much.

He turned to Willard. "My dear Don Benito,
let yoiu" mind and the minds of your men be at
ease. Not only are you safe, but you will receive
henceforth the usage that all civilized nations
accord to prisoners of war."

Arillo spoke truly. Thereafter the prisoners
had no cause to complain of their treatment.
MacNamara and Ballestos were both prisoners
in the carcel, by the order of Flores. The com-
mandant, though ambitious and vainglorious, had
many of the fine ideals of the Spanish gentle-
man. Only MacNamara's ingenious defense had •
saved him from suspicion. Exonerating Bal-
lestos, the secret agent boldly assimied all

THE SNARL OF THE WOLF 199

responsibility for the aflfair. He pointed out
that the liien were for the most part naturalized
Mexicans, captured with arms in their hands
fighting against a land that had given them a
home, and that he, during his military service
m Europe, had seen men shot for less. Moreover
he claimed that he had taken a hasty response of
Flores, "Dispose of them as you see fit," to mean
that he was to use his own judgment in the
matter of hfe and death.
"Fool," roared Flores in a towering passion,
I thought you were asking where the prisoners
should be quartered."

"Take them both away." The commandant
waved his hand disgustedly toward Ballestos
and the Englishman. "Keep them in close con-
finement until further orders."

But of this the prisoners knew nothing. As the
days dragged on, they could glean but little news
from the close-mouthed guards as to the condition
of affairs in the pueblo. Gillie, they knew, stiU
held the hill, for they could hear occasionally
the desultory booming of the escopetas, and the
answering crack of the rifles.

Commandant Flores himself, accompanied by
Hugo Vanuela, trotted into the hollow one
afternoon. Taking Benito Willard aside, he
addressed him in a mandatory tone.

"Do thou, Don Benito, write to that fool on

5.1 L.

300 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

the hill yonder a letter advising him to surrender.
On my honor as a Christian and a gentleman, I
desire to avoid further bloodshed. But since
the skirmish at the foot of the hill a few nights
ago, many of my men have been drinking, and
vowing that they will attack him whether I will
or no. It is impossible for the man to hold out.
He has no supplies, nor any means of geti ing any.
He can expect no assistance for months. We
wish the pueblo to be rid of his accursed presence.
Write this as coming from thyself, Don Benito.
You kno\. I am speaking the truth."

Willard nodded. "I reckon you 're right, com-
mandant. Gillie can't do good here, cooped up
on that hill. There is no reason for him to be as
important as George Washington," he commented
dryly, as he hastily scribbled the note and handed
it to Flores.

Lieutenant Carroll, seated on the grass, his
bandaged head resting against an oak, looked up
to find himself gazing into the bronzed face of
Vanuela. Hugo's eyes were full of insolent
merriment as he stared down at the reclining man.

"So-o," he sneered, "can it be the Senor Carroll,
the protector of the helpless, the friend of the
oppressed? No doubt you found my pistol-butt
somewhat hard, but such is the fortune of war.
Is there any message you would wish to send to
your friends in the pueblo.?"

THE SNARL OP THE WOLF ,oi

sin??"..^^^ ** ^' ^' face set in an expres-
sion of utter disgust, but he made no r^ly ^

Perchance." went on Vanuela "it^n^'w u

i^«e might be a message to a fair lady-a love
note*, I would be honored to so si^e you "
At the man's deliberate, taunting words, i
^^m^.aous t, , .„ h, a,e fa« of the lie^tSLI
paled with mdignation. He would have hked
IfT' e "f°« ^'^ ^"" his hZ^

Resting hi; If hT^^IC^: Sn^eT

"The gente de razon, Vanuela choooA fi,«-
|».pany carefully. -mWe is no; a :^'';"
Spanish blood in the pueblo who would Se a

t'nisXLt--^*'"^''-"--^--

.ilr*^ '"' *''* "°' "="""8 'one of the lieutenant
not the angry flash in his dark blue evfn^

^ « ins face that hurt; it '^' Zl' 2^1

fcdl^J".' "^'^ "^ P'««d beneath ^f
to Z^ ""Passiveness of Hugo Vanuela and
for the moment cut his very soul. For onc« in

';.• !'5'i

ao2 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

hii, life his self-possession vanished. He ground
his teeth in a paroxysm of rage, and his face
twisted into an expression almost demoniacal.
With bitter hate, he hissed out a foul epithet, and
cantered away after Commandant Flores.

"What news from the pueblo?" asked Carroll
when, a few hours later, Servolo Palera rode up
and dismounted at the door of the prisoners'
quarters.

"Glorious news — pardon me — I mean welcome
news for us. Captain Gillie will evacuate the
city."

The prisoners came rushing to the door, full of
eager questions and glad words of welcome for
Servolo.

"Yes," went on Palera; "Captain Gillie has
hearkened to the advice of Don Benito Willard.
The terms of Commandant Flores were generous.
The Americans are to be allowed to march peace-
ably to the beach at San Pedro, where Sefior
Gillie has promised us he will surrender his horses
and cannon. He also agrees, on his word of
honor, to embfj-k on the first ship that comes to
port. Even now is he marching out. Do you
wish to go to the top of the hill? You can then
see them as they pass down the river road. The
guards will accompany you."

Gladly the prisoners availed themselves of the
privilege. In the clear California air they could

THE SNARL OF THE WOLF ,03

S 'ttlf^' f '•<»««'«' ««mblmg down the
muade, then lost to view as they rode thiourfi

^Te1*^^*'°- ThelastoftheS
Passrf toe Amen<an« womid into the open road

hltmg a.r, and the stars and stripes were proudly
unfurled asrfin defiance of the bo^y of CalSoS
^.tlr''"^^^- FaintlyLosstoe™^
Sfclffn" r ^ *e«»«d of prolonged Cheer.
me c me to the pnsoners on the ridge. Slowly

rw ,?^;r?- ^°"°™S another outbu^t of
cheers, the Mexican tricolor took its place

fh^ V^^^ ^^ *=^"- *^^ Ws hat in
the a^, w.th a glad triumphant cheer, and then
^d to the silent prisoners with his JZ

grJ^nrS"'""^^"""""^"^"^™

hilV^l ^f '?^'"' "y ^y" ^'-i Carroll, laying
Ins hand affecfaonately on the other's shoji^
Cheer whJe yet you may, because there wiU
surely come a time when you camiot."

Durmg the weary, monotonous weeks that
oUowed, Kttle news of Loreto reache^^S
^ough more than once seiioras Willard and
Harbm came to the camp with comforts for their
husbands Always they greeted Cam-H kin^T
then- dark eyes soft with secret sympathy

»:.:^K«zjwri»iJife

L£

ao4 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

^^ "Ah, Sefior CarroU," Sefiora WUIard whispered,
"the Sefiora Arillo—she is terribly angry. She
has discovered what happened the morning Loreto
came with us to the rivet shore. I have tried
in vain to reach Loreto, but the sefiora— she is
clever; she trusts me not. When I go to the
Arilio home, always is Loreto hidden. Jos6
and Manuel are with the soldiers; Delfina and
Mariano would not dare disobey the sefiora.
Foolish woman that she is," she added, as she
cast a loving look at her husband, "she does not
know what good husbands Americans are."

"Something is up, lieutenant," commented
Don Benito, after one of these visits. "Don't
be surprised if you hear cannonading at any time.
Don Jos6 Antonio, the cannon, and the gun crew
l2h the pueblo an hour ago, going in the direction
of San Pedro. Lordy! Lordy! but I hope it is
Stockton. He'll sure make short work of this
silly fuss."

CHAPTER XX

AN UNKNOWN FRIEND

QNE night, as CarroU was drifting off to sleeo
y the mutter of voices at the door awoke h^*
and he sat up with a start a „« 1 ^^^'
face an«! fi«^,™ , * ^ ^^^^ ^^cer whose

tT^dd't^sr".? ^ 'T *°"^' - thoX^shSg

to avoid waking the other sleepers: ^

l-ieutenant Carroll?"

••Here." he responded wonderingly.

cf^n^V" ^^^^'"P^y nie at once."
t^arroU s heart jumped with jov "Of ,.«,

"No '• answered the officer shortly.
.It ■•^•tenant stopped, one shoe stiU in his

mmea. Make haste; time presses."

Strangely puznied, he followed the officer and
his^gged escort up the tree^bowered hoU^ ^

With his eyes he measured the sHght figure

ao6 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

the Califomian striding ahead of him. In a
hand-to-hand conflict he believed he could master
him, secure his sword, run him through, and then,
blade in hand, fight on <;ill he had routed the
Indians, or a bullet from an escopeta brought the
end. Carroll had fully recovered from the effects
of the blow on the head, and he felt his muscles
harden and his heart beat faster as he pictured the
possible struggle soon to come. As they came
to an open spot in the vale, he edged close to the
officer, his eye on the sword hilt.

"Where are you taidng me?" he demanded, as
he came to a halt.

"Have no fear, seflor; no harm is intended you,"
said the Califomian, as he smiled reassuringly.
Carroll knew intuitively that as far as the man
himself was concerned, he spoke the truth.

They passed the last of the scrub oaks, and
as they climbed the slope a lone adobe loomed
up before them, gleaming ghostly white in the
moonlight.

"My orders were to conduct you here, where
you will remain. Rations will be brought you
from day to day."
"By whose orders?"

"Carajo! But you ask many questions. I do
not inquire about orders; I obey them. I served
three years in the Mexican army."
He threw up his head with a gesture of pride.

AN UNKNOWN FRIEND

307
Af^all. CarroU, though an officer. „as but .

The door was thrown open, the blankets carried
wjthm. and the Califonuan bade hun atS

CarroU sat long at the door in thouehtful
^oe. whde the guards lounged a few ^Tf Zf
^ttmg and smoking as if unconscious ^S

ES cIm*!*"" ^^"^ Ahnag™ n^
Bail^tos could be responsible for his present
atuation for the lieutenant had heard toul
Palera of the action of Flores. Thetto^t^f

It be that he had separated him from the other

lerenoe from themf Why the officer's reticence
» regard to the source of his orders? toHS
selectjon of this deserted, unvisited ho^'^ Se
had h^rd of Vanuela's company of todiaS
CouU these men be fmm his coVmind?

Would the senor be so kind as to oblige us
with some tobacco?"

1.?"^^ i°°^^ "P searchingly into the man's
face but he could discern there no sinister^s

stupX*^*^' "°"^' ""' "^-^ ^^^^
"Much thanks; the sefior is very kind," said

ao8 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

the barefooted man, as he took the piece of twisted
sailor's tobacco. "Ah— American tobacco. I have
never used any of it. They say it is very good.
It will be a treat. A thoiisand thanks, sefior."
Amid so much treachery, Carroll's heaxr. went
out to the simple, guileless fellow.

"Give all the boys some," he said, as he handed
over the entire roll.

Still puzzled, and dreading the worst, for there
was the greater part of the night yet before him,
the lieutenant wrapped himself in a blanket on
the floor, well out of rfmge of the open doorway.
He laid beside him, within easy reach of his hand,
a stout oaken cudg. * he had found on the floor.

In spite of his wacchfuhiess, he was drifting off
to sleep when a piercing scream of terror caused
him to spring to his feet. Grasping his club, and
rushing to the door, he was in time to see two of
the guards in wild flight down the hill, while the
other had dropped his gun and stood transfixed
by fright, his arms extended, his pabns outspread
as if to ward off some invisible horror.

"Jesus Maria! God in Heaven!" gurgled the
man. "TLe Black Matador! The Black Mat-
ador!" Then, recovering the control of his
limbs, with a shriek of fear he disappeared down
the ravine.

Amazed, the American turned in the direction
of the man's gaze.

AN UNKNOWN FRIEND ,09

Fran behind the corner of the hut came a
n,ount«d ™u., hi, horse-, feet filing noS^
on the dry ground. In in>ite of himself ^e

lear It was mdeed the Black Matador as
Loreto had described him. He wore ^^
n«md hat bobbed at the sides, the shon.':S^
Cloak. Somber, .-pectral. silent, his face was
hidden by a cloth as black as his raiment-blS
as the jct-black steed he bestrode.

anf wal:S"«iir^,'^" ^"'^*' "» "^^'-
"lu waited. The strange visitor turned his

^,1",? Tt"^ "^ """ « beckoninT^ti^
CanoU hesitated, his mind a wild flurry of how

What rneant tha fantastic masquerade? Was
he fnend or foe? Yet the rider^as alme a^
^nowholding out both hands to show^^t

With the reckless impetuosity of youth
OUTOU followed him over the rii, dow^Tnto
another hoUow. toward a black smudge of tWck

^ his head from the grass, and his inquiring

o^ rode to ;he hor«='s head, unfastened the

Z^tTJ^ ""f'- *™' '™^S his steed
about, he motioned to the empty saddle.

In God's name," cried CanoU, "speaki"

a to THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

Suddenly across his mind there flashed remem-
brance of the night he had met Marshall in his
strange masquerade near the old bull ring. In
the set of the black-swathed shoulders he believed
he recognized the familiar figure of the frontiers-
man. His heart lifted in great reUef, and he
ahnost laughed aloud at the sheer audadty of
the scheme.

"Marshall—Jim." he cried, "drop this mas-
querade! I recognize you."

A hoarse sound, sepulchral erough, neither a
chrtckle nor a sob, came ftom the horseman. The
faceless head shook with a negative motion. With
his upraised arm, the black figure described a
wide circle to the east, and finally held it firmly,
pointing in the direction of San Pedro, his fin-
gers vibrating meaningly. The American easily
grasped his meaning. He was to make a wide
detour to avoid the Califomian pickets, and then
ride south to San Pedro and the beach, where
he would find Gillie and his men.

"I understand you, Jim," he said, as he sprang
to the saddle.

Without warning, the stranger brought his
quirt down on the haunches of Carroll's horse,
and it leaped forward in affright. For a moment
the lieutenant struggled with the frenzied beast,
then, as he recovered control, he glanced back at
the other.

AN UNKNOWN FRIEND an

The drooping shoulders were heaving quietly,
while muffled sounds, as of hard-drawn breathing
^e from beneath the cloth-covered face!
Wondenng at the frontiersman's reticence, now
that the purpose of the ghostly masquerade was
accomphshed. he caUed again, surprise in his tones.
Do you not ride with me, Jim?"
Again the negative shake of the black head
CwroU was tempted to laugh aloud. True, he
had forgotten that the Black Matador must ride
alone. It would indeed be out of keeping for
him to nde "cheek by jowl" with a living man.
There were Califomian pickets to terrify before
MarshaU could win back to the beach. To ride
together would indeed spoil the effect of the
appantion. Again Carroll laughed to himself.
Yet he was not satisfied as to his deliverer's
a/"*v ^,; ^^ ^^ "^^^ Mar^all to be silent, for
Marshall was a man who scorned deception.
What was the mystery behind it all? The very
hoofbeats of his steed were unnatural in sound.
He walked his moimt and, leaning in the saddle
discovered that its hoofs were wrapped in padded
cloth.

His heart grew light as the miles fell away
behind him, until he remembered that each
hoofbeat. while it brought him nearer to friends
and safety, took him farther away from the
woman he loved.

,^ii,|

CHAPTER XXI

THE CANNON OP THE SENORA

A CANNON'S roar crashed out on the sensitive
*■ morning air, and echoed back from the
quiet gray land sweUs. John Carroll awoke, and
rubbed his eyes.

It was chill morning, with the sea-mist still
clmging to the land and the sun an impotent
disk of scarlet hanging hand high above the
horizon. CarroU's gaze brought him no sign of
conflict. There was no life on the winding road-
way, the roUing plain, nor the mist-robed shrub-
bery. While he waited, desperately cold and
hungry, and aquiver with eagerness to ascertain
the cause of the cannon shot, he peered cautiously
through the scrub oaks where he had spent the.
night wrapped in his saddle blanket.

The panorama of the night before began to
unroll. One by one he reviewed the incidents of
his escape, beginning with the strange march up
the hill to the deserted adobe; the mysterious
horseman in black; his own hurried ride to the
eastward; the challenge, and the shot in the
darkness— a shot that had sent his steed to
the ground, kicking in agony. Breathless with
suspense, from behind a hillock he had watched the
Califomians gathered around his dying horse.

212

THE CANNON OF THE SENORA .13

Sad turned cloudy; the sky .«, starless and for
aught he knew he might be h.-.-vir^e ba.Jc toward

« 1 t' ^"""^ ""^ everywhere were the
watchful horsemen, and a hundred times h-
had narrowly escaped recapture only by lying
flat on the ground as they tmtted ^t in^e
darkness. Worn out by his futile eff^s to fed
a mam ravme that led toward the sea and
•^-mg that if morning dawned while^; waf
without means of conceahnent his capture ^
oertam. he had cr^t into a clump of XiT^
hoUow and resigned himself to sleep ^ " *
In front of him. a few feet away, lay the rtrnd
a wmdmg strip of yeUow ribboniig aLy JX

P^with blossommg mustard. That he could

s«aweed. High above him wheeled the white

Oalifomian, and CarroU drew himself mnr»
dosdy behind the bushes. Therid^oUr^
by a score of others, walking their horses and
chattmg carelessly. Don Jos« Antonio i^e
^one apparently deep in thought; behind him,
Servolo, engaged in an animated conversatio.^

1 1

ill'

314 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

with Jos6. In their rear fluttered the Mexican
tacolor, borne proudly aloft by Don Francisco
Cota. Plugo Vanuela, astride a big bay horse
was glancing upward at the flag, scornful amuse-
ment showing in his face. They went by ahnost
withm touching distance of the fugitive.

CarroU noted the passing of the brass four-
poimder. It was mounted on the front wheels
and *3ngue of a wagon, and drawn by a dozen
rawhide riatas attached to the saddle-horns of
the Califomians. Close beside it rode Manuel
his young face bright with an air of proud pro^
pnetorship. For the fame of Senora Arillo's
exploit had gone far and wide, and the old field
piece had aheady been dubbed "the Cannon of
the Sefiora."

The group came to a halt. The main body of
the command, nearly a hundred mounted men,
cantered up, and at a quick order from AriUo
scattered over the neighboring swells. The gun
was swung around into position, and as quickly
loaded and rammed. Vanuela grasped the tongue
and lifted it from the ground, while Palera
kneelmg between the wheels, sighted it at the
oncommg Americans, hidden from Carroll's view.

"Higher, Seiior Vanuela," warned Palera; "a
little lower now— there now, Manuel, my boy "

Manuel puffed his cigar to a coal, and touched
it to the vent. An echoing roar, and the drifting

THE CANNON OF THE SENORA 215
smoke hid for a moment the group of men and
them bendmg forward in their saddles, their
th^So? "^ ^^^ ^° °°^ ^^ ^^^* °^

"Curses on that powder," groaned Cota, the
stendard bearer. "It does nothing but puff
See the baU roll. Tiy the good powder." "^

From dose at hand came the mocking shouts
of the unharmed enemy. With incredible quick-
ness the gun crew leaped to their horses and the
^nd gaUoped away, the gun straining and leaping
wildly at the mta ends. Carroll riskily worJned
hunsdf forward to where he could see both up
and down the roadway. :;> could hear the
measured tread of many then over the

W nse came the .\mericans, lour hundred strong
They were on foot, marching in a hoDow square
and CarroU noted with surprise that they were
armed with lances as weU as with carbines

"nie watchful man in the bushes was in a glow
of hopeful expectancy; in a few momente the
mvadmg force would be opposite him and he
could easily rejoin them. He glanced up the trail
tow-ard the Califomians. As he did so. the gun
agam belched forth its cloud of smoke.

But this time there were no derisive cheers
from the advancing force. He saw a sailor on
the comer of the square go down with a yeU of

2i6 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

agony. Around the wounded man the Americans
crowded, while the ofEicers shouted imheeded
orders. Slowly they resumed the square forma-
tion, as if in momentary expectation of a charge
from the mounted enemy. In the center of the
square Gillie, Somers, and several other omcers
whom Carroll could not recognize, were holding
an excited conference, while from above came the
glad, triumphant singing of the Califomians.

" No stranger rules our fathers' land
His flag ixji dust is Iain;
No more we bow to his command,
We Sons of Ancient Spain."

Could it be possible that the Americans were
about to retreat? If they did, his recapture was
only a matter of hours. Suddenly he sprang
to his feet, the light of a desperate chance in his
face. He was halfway between the two forces,
but somewhat nearer to the Califomians. Press-
ing his cap firmly on his head, he darted out of
the oaks and raced madly along the level road.

The sharp eye of Vanuela noted the sudden
appearance of the flying imiformed figure as it
shot into view and, followed by jos6, he spurred
his horse after him. Carroll, covering the ground
in mighty leaps, glanced back for an instant.
They were almost upon him, Vanuela's lance held
loWf his face cruelly gleeful, his hand steady.
In the single moment of Carroll's backward

THE CANNON OP THE SENOEA „,
gUnce, Hugo had recognized the insolent youne
officer of the stockade. Hardly thirty feet^v
^ Vanuela when CarroU's fo^t caught fa a J^t
of gmss and he went sprawling on hi^ faS. " *^'

fomard"if » "onient Jos*. spurring his mount
lorward m a mighty bound, bumped sidewise
agamst the neck of Vanuela's horse. ^usbgTto
stagger and rear in wild confusion.

thou mS^*^^ S""°' **°" '"^S '«"■ '"'«* dost

Jos^, who had recognized CarroU from the
fi«t looked at Vanuela in silence, his fa" coo!
and determined, his hand resting meanteXTn
tte p.s o butt in his sash. Fori moment a,:"

e^u^h M°r"' r*"'^ '^^-* »°"«'t long
enough for CarroU to gather himself up and dash

P^tmg toward the squar. that opened'^to ^e

h-WifiL T^/""*^ ^''^^ ^- he found
hmisdf bes.de Marshall, whose deadly rifle wa,

M m the direction of the two io^
^Z r *ri"''**^ *° =P^ °°^ think. He
strJ:^?" "^i'^ ^^^'^^^ *« frontiersman,
n^f^? "° ?'' *°'^S 'he buUet from hi^
nfle kickmg op the dust on the roadway

Damnation!" snapped Marshall. "I would
have gotten that feUow." Then, as he tS
to greet Carroli. "Jehosophat. lieutenLt'lS

lis

218 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

I am goU-dumed glad to see you." And in a
lower voice he added, "But you needn't have
done it. 'Twarn't the boy I was after; 'twuz
the danm yalla-headed greaser. Sech ain't by
no means natural, no more'n a white crow.
An' what ain't accordin' to natm ain't hulsum.
If the Lord knows His business He is goin' to give
me one more chance to get that varmint over
the sights before this fool war is over."

A quick welcome from Somers and GilUe—
there was no time for explanations— and the
bugle sounded the order to advance. The square
moved on slowly over the level ground, the
officers in the center, the frontiersmen scattered
m a skirmishing line. Irregularly their rifles
spoke as they sighted a mounted enemy to the
right or left. Well out of range, the Califomians
answered the shots with jeering waves of the
hand.

"Here comes another wan av thim doughnuts,"
observed an Irish sailor, as he noted the gun crew
drawing away from the cannon.

A screeching roar close above their heads, and
something dropped to the ground in the center
of the square.

"Be jabers, I'm dismasted," the Irishman
remarked, as he mournfully surveyed the remnant
of the lance shaft left in his hand.

The scattered frontiersmen were running madly

THE CANNON OF THE SENORA ,19
toward the pm. firing as they ran. But bounding

Soun^ of angry voices came fiom the right
Marshan and several of the skirnnshers w«^
engaged m an altercation with an offioTof^
^TT. ?* frontiersmen, as the gj%^
fired, had thrown themselves flat on the^ot^?

as the shot had passed. The Kttle officer was
denouncmg th« tactics of Marshall and hi/:^
as shameful cowardice.

"Now say, you young fellah, look ahere "
Marshall was saying, "jest you keep yoTS^n
on, and don't get excited. It 's awful bad for tLe

ai:,'t ?• ""'m°* ^'^*^- ^"'^ vototiJlwe
ell T. '^^- "^ '"^^^ '«^« 'listed to
fight, but not to get killed if we can help it

noss sense m standmg up to get shot at, when
you mjght jest as weU take it easy and lie dl™
and It's a whole dinged lot safer You 17^;

^•U d°o T.°r ^* '"' °"'- "ffi'^^
«e 11 do all the skirmishing this fool army ieeds

m_.ts^busmess. TUs war ain't run to s^t^me:

Disconcerted by the grimiing faces of t>-«

^nW r- '""^ °f'^ «^™ «P the attempt to
d^plme them, and retired within the squa«.

1*^

.^r^^'''^-

* I

220 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

"Let Marshall alone," growled Gillie. "He
generally knows what he is doing."

The captain had learned nuch in the past
month.

Again a ball of white smoke burst in the midst
of the Calif ornians; again the skirmishers ran
forward. Close enough they were, this time, to
bring down one of the horses of the gun crew.

But amid the gleeful shouts of the Califomians,
the cannon was again whisked out of their reach.
To advance too far from the square was to court
death on a lance point. The fever of killing was
in the veins of all.

Cota, flaunting the flag defiantly, was still
hovering recklessly near the skirmishers' line.
Gillie lowered his field glass and observed
quietly, "I know that man with the flag. He
is no Califomian, but one of Willard's men,—
Skene, an Austrian. He has deserted to the
enemy. Fire on that fellow with the flag," he
shouted to the skirmishers. "He's an American
deserter."

Truly, with his blue eyes, fair face, and blond
hair, Cota looked httle like a Califomian. A
fusillade of shots from the skirmish line, and the
flag staflf dropped from his hands and his horse
tumbled forward on its head, shot through the
brain. But Cota was on his feet, racing away,
bearing the colors with him. After him darted

.'^HE CANNON OP THE SENORA aai

the skirmishers, firing as they ran. Rejoining his
comrades about the gun, Cota doffed his sombrero
and bowed ironically.

Again the cannon belched. This time the ball
struck the square fairly in the center of the front
rank cutting off a sailor's leg at the thigh. All
semblance of military formation was lost as
the anxious Americans gathered around the
injured man.

He was gazing in horror at the blood spouting
from his severed limb, and babbling incoherently
about home. A moment later he gasped, and
stiffened in death.

With bitter curses on their Ups, the frontiersmen
raced after the enemy, only to find their efforts
balked by the wonderful celerity with which the
Califomians maneuvered the gun.

Stubbornly, GilUe and his men held on. For
three miles the Americans chased the flying field
piece, shot after shot landing in their ranks, till
at length, with six men dead and seven wounded
a retreat was ordered.

Wearily back to the Dominguez ranch house
they trailed, tired with marching and saddened
by death.

Carroll, walking by MarshaU, told him of his
escape and, as he mentioned the Black Matador
It was you. was n't it, Jim?" he inquired.
MarshaU seemed about to answer, but changed

' T

■*4S I

aaa THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

"I,

.1:^

I ii

He was scrutinizing the lieutenant

his mind,
curiously.

"Ain't the notion struck you, John, that
there mought be a mighty good reason for keepin'
it a secret for some one, or you'd been told
before?" suggested Marshall cautiously.

"Why secrecy with me?" queried Carroll.

"The Black Matador had a reason, all right —
all right. Don't you go now to spoil his game.
John."

Marshall's words gave no clew.

As if to change the subject of conversation, he
recounted to Carroll the events of the past, two
weeks.

"We rode to the beach wich Arillo's men close
behind us, watching us like a cat watches a
mouse. When we gets there, the greasers comes
and takes all our horses, and said they wuz comin'
the next day for the guns. The next morning
along comes the Vandalia, a Boston trading ship.
'Now hand over them gtms,' sez Flores in a note
he sends the captain, 'and git aboard.*

"But the captain, he flummoxes around day
after day, with Flores sending him notes and
proclamations every few hours an' him always
givin' Flores excuses. Then Flores got mad and
turned off the ditch that was bringing otu* water
supply down to the beach.

'I guess that made the captain mad, for do you

THE CANNON 0? THE SSSoRyV ,,3

'^TZ^l^"^'^^" **"^' '<"™«<i his voice
He knocks the trunnion, off them guns. ITk?,
them pounds rocks into their insideT^d «jL
them mto the water at low tide "
^ad he agreed to give them up?" i„qui^

"He said he'd leave them on the beach T

••G^V'?f • "!? "'^^ «' the frontiersman.

murtlmVtXT-^- ■•^--"-haU.you
'•Naw; no mistake about it. Him and Someis
had a row. they say. Somer. would n't dol?
^ause he signed the paper. Then the capLn
^d he d arrest hmi. 'All right,' sez Somers

here's my sword.' but the captain looked iTd of

t^rt^ ^^^' °* *"" «"'^ =°°'« of them sap-

headed mannes to do it. Them fellahs wo^d
stand on their ear if he told them to "

Under orcUnary circumstances CarroU would
have bnstled at Marshall's reference to ^e
mannes. but his mind was now full of GilhVs
treacherous conduct "uues

^ shame of it-the shame of it!" he

MarshaU. So we all went on board the Vatidatki.

I;.

aa4 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

and in a few days along comes that S<naHnak ship
with Captain Mervine and about four htmdred
sailors — that 's Mervine over there." He pointed
to a tall officer marching at the head of the
square.

"An* sez he to himself, sez Mervine, 'It's for
me to show you fellahs how to fight greasers.
Come on, boys.' Mervine didn't know them
fellahs had a cannon, leastwise the captain
did n't tell him, or he thought the old gun would
be no good after we knocked it down the hill that
time. An' so after makin' a lot of lances for the
marines and sailors to have handy if the greasers
should come down in a charge, we starts — and
here we are now, gettin* back to the beach as fast
as we can, with six dead men. I use to think
that the greasers were good for nothing but
yellin' and writin' proclamations, but they are
some fighters, all right. This old war ain't nm
to suit -ne, nohow. When it 's over, I am goin' to
buy D'a a rancho, an' ride a white horse with
silver-moimted saddle, like Don Andreas Pico.
I don't have to soldier for twenty-five a month
and found."

At the Dominguez Rancho, Mervine and
GilUe secured oxen and wagons to carry the dead
and wotmded, and the march to the beach was
resumed. Around them hovered the Califomians,
but much to the surprise of the Americans no

THE CANNON OP THE SENORA «s

further attacks were made, and they continued

th!^.r^ |.r"?^^^- "^^y ~"^d not know
that the Califomians had fired their last char£e
Of good powder. *

iJ^ f ^i?""^^ "? °^ ^"^ """^ ^~"« into view,
they noted another ship swinging at anchor b^

the Vandalta and the Savannah. Quickly the
news ran around the square that the Congress, with
Commodore Stockton, had arrived, and the men
oroice mto cheers.

When they reached the long yellow strip of
^dy beach Gillie, accompanied by CarroU and
Somers. went at once on board the Congress, the
^mmodore's flagship, where the captain presented
the ^blr '"^^'^ °^ *^^ happenings in

"You say.- said Stockton, "that Flores. Arillo.

whoT. '°' ^' ^l ^"^""' ^"^ ^» th« others
who had given us their paroles, are now in arms

agamst us? By the Eternal.- he roared, hot
^h anger "the time for leniency has passed.
When I get my hands on those feUows I will
court-martial and hang every one of them.
Shootmg IS too honorable a death for such men
Look at our poor dead boys on the canvas there ''
Carroll standing near, stared at him in silent
hoiTor. His face paled, and his heart sank
withm him.

Stockton was a man of action. Immediately

aa6 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

' the marines and sailors of the three ships were
landed on the beach, and under the guidance of
Carroll and Somers for two weeks they practiced
on the level sands the unaccustomed evolutions
of land forces. At night they returned to the safe
shelter of the ships, the commodore dreading a
night attack from the Califomians, whose watch-
ful pickets patrolled the neighboring heights.

At last everything was declared in readiness.
There was joy among the men, for to-morrow
would see them marching on the rebellious
pueblo. But there was^ no joy in the heart of
Lieutenant Jack Carroll as he moodily paced the
deck. To him the march of to-morrow meant
only an added weight of woe and bitterness.

CHAPTER XXII

THE CABALLADA OP DON JOSE ANTONIO

"P"L^r?f; ^'^°^°'" ^^^ ^°" J°^ Antomo,
«nt.^ f l^t ""'"' '' *^" *° °^^- Since I have
noted for the last two months much EngHsh gold
o^ent m the pueblo, and heard of the BnS

^ps at Monterey. I have been suspicious. The
Picos, I beheve. have a hand in this. Ever since

^d to MacNamara. they have been friendly to
eU^^ t plan But never wiU I con^„t.

Enff^t, ""fi °^^ '^^ ''^^ <>f heretics.

England coerced the church in Ireland. If our

kmd must go to another nation, i favor the
Amenc^s. They are not aU lik. Captain Gillie."
^I^v ^r. ,^^^ i^st brought to Arillo the
^Img t^e of his servant, who. loitering in the
moonlight ma lonely spot, had overhead two
men whom he could not recognize, discussing
a pkn the purport of which was the placing of
California under a British protectorate.

The mischief is now afoot. None knows how
soMi they may move. To stop it we must strike.

^^^"^^ V"^^' -^^ "^« ^^h ^«. Servolo?''
asked «ie Don as he threw his serape around
Inm and buckled on his sword belt
Palera nodded assent. For a moment AriUo

«7

228 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

hesitated, a tender light in his face, then, tato'ng
a candle from the table, he passed into his
daughter's room.

She lay breathing quietly, her fair face framed
in billows of lustrous black hair. One cheek was
wet with a single tear. As the father bent over
to touch his lips to her brow, she awoke, and
gazed up at him in wonder.

"I must ride to the camp by San Pedro now,"
he explained. "Be of good cheer, but do not
expect too much. I go to do that which may bring
thee much happiness. < I may have good news
to-morrow night."
"What— what?"

He laid his hand wamingly on her lips.
"Ask no questions, but pray for my success."
Only a moment the two horsemen stopped at
the stockade gate. Arillo dismoimted and went
within, to return almost immediately with Benito
Willard, who was mounted but unarmed. As
their hoofbeats died away on the road to the
south, a heavy figure drew from out the shadow
of a near-by veranda.

"So-o-o, Arillo rides with Don Benito to the
camp at the Palos Verdes. Some trickery have
they planned. A wise man was the Englishman
to warn me to watch Don Jos6 Antonio. He
must know of this at once," muttered Vanuela
as he dashed away in the darkness.

THE "CABALLADA" 3^9

But few days had MacNamara remained in the
confinement of the carcel. Plores, finaUy con-
vinced that the attempt on the Hves of the
pnsoners had been owing to an excess of zeal and
a possible misunderstanding of his own command
had ordered both him and BaUestos released
It was his conversation with Vanuela that had
been overheard by Palera's servant.

"Don Benito," said AriUo when they had
^ved at the Temple ranch house where the
Cahforman officers had estabUshed their head-
quarters, "to-morrow I am going to send you with
a flag of truce to the edge of the mesa above the
landmg at San Pedro. Don Francisco Cota
wiU be placed on the ridge above you. When
he waves the Mexican flag thrice, do you wave
your white flag, and seek an interview with
Stockton. You may tell — "

The Don's voice was drowned by the loud
barkmg of dogs outside. Servolo rushed to the
door, and his sharp command sent them slinking
away, save one wise old hound who persisted in
sniffing suspiciously beneath the open window.
^^ "You may teU him from me," went on AriUo
that I am anxious to avoid further bloodshed.'
TeU him that he may land and take possession
of the coast, and that no other nation wiU be
aUowed by us to obtain a foothold in California
TeU him that we wUl bring to his camp aU the

4'^

230 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

supplies he may need, if he wiU refrain from
attempting to march men through the country,
a proceeding which wiU but engender bad feelings
between two people who may have to live together
m the future. On the other hand, we promise to
refram from any hostUe movement and to abide
by the results of the war beyond the Rio Grande,
whatever they may be."

But yesterday, to add to Arillo's growing
discouragement, had come rumors of Mexican
defeats beyond the Rio Grande, and the tale, aU
too accurate, cf the tot^ failure of the powder-
making experiirents at San Gabriel. Not only
Don Jos6 Antonio but Alvaro, Garfias, Cota,
Rico, and many others would have no regrets
should Stockton offer honorable terms of sur-
render. But the pride of the CastiUan would
never permit them to seek mercy from an armed
enemy. Far better a hopeless struggle than a
loss of dignity. Any weU-defined offer would
have to come from the American.

While Don Jos6 Antonio had but little hope that
the proposition for a truce submitted to Willard
would be accepted by Stockton, yet negotiations
would have been opened. Then, if he could
secure from the American the assurance that
the pueblo would not be burdened with miKtary
lule, and that the matter of the broken paroles
would be forgiven and forgotten, AriUo was ready

THE "CABALLADA"

231

to throw the whole weight of his irtiuence in favor

tr^r ^"f^^^l-y^hehadbeen^d^
ing the plan, and now the startling info^Sw.
that there was a pro-British plot ato^t detSeS

^^n^ "° '^«'^- «* ^ confid^TZt
any terms of surrender compatible with the dignity
of the gente de razcn would be accepted by^e
O^ormansm spite of the po^ble oppJit~L
ot l< lores, who at the orp«y>ti<- +;«,« - V^
San Juan Capistrana "" '*^' ^*

Some three miles inland from where th. .,.,t
cby, Bemto Willard and S<^jX^^e

Ms ^it tS! o"^? ^'^' *° *« ^^'y ot

,. ^f "^ opemng, hour after hour Mnid
douds of swirling dust, ™de the fourT;^^
mounted men of the CaUfonuan anny, sunZ^

cra^--d -^^- upTti:^^-:

round a hiU and round again." Hewasmidn^
a demonstration in hope that the XS
commander would more readily offer pS^^
acceptable terms. ^^^ ^°

Impatiently Don Benito watched the motionless

douted Intoi canter up. confer with him a
moment, and then disappear. Turning 4 ri^c^
oceanward. he noted that the boats^wi^i b^

■,i-.

233 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

a short time before had left the flagship, were, in
response to a string of signal flags, now retunung
to the ships.

Again he turned his glass on the hills. The
caballada was still in motion, though the dimness
of coming night was already falling over the land.
Prom far out over the water there came to him
the creaking of the windlass, and the hoarse
chanteys of the sailors. He could see the men
strung out along the yards. The ships were
making sail.

Again Willard turned the glass inland. Prom
the figure of the standard bearer, now hardly
discernible in the gathering dusk, came no warning
motion. In desperation the American sprang
to his feet and waved the white cloth frantically.
But there was no response from the ships as,
beating their way against the breeze, they
drew slowly from shore on their way to San
Diego.

Par too well had the ruse de guerre of Don Jos6
Antonio done its work. To Commodore Stockton
the lookouts at the mastheads had reported that
over three thousand cavahy had been counted,
passing an opening in the ridge. Believing that
the Calif omians had received reinforcements from
Sonora, and that to attack them with six
hundred sailors and marines would be madness,
Stockton had given orders to set sail at once

:ii:.

THE "CABALLADA"

^33
p°r^t^tion^«^°' T^'r ^ ^"^ h^^ afforded

Disheartened by the faUure of Arillo's plan to

a note signed by Don ]osi Antonio, instouctto^

"Do^f '"■^ °""^"*^ •«•" ^"1 Arillo sadly.

Do not gneve, my dear Francisco," he add^^

fandly, as he noted Cota's downcast taci"!

S"^ A fr-- I '^ '^ "nuch^on-

ti*„f^f ^ "*""" ''* ~'^<' •'™e "aught but
tidings of disappointment.

Hugo Vanuela, seated smoking by a camn fi~
1° bv^thtl"^',*?.™"* ** ''^P- Hi- face!

Sn^rr-^^^-^O"-'--"^^

rf^''*" Dios. Hugo, thou art not wanting in
devemess. The plan of the note was thinTo^
Re^t^ured it shaU not be forgotten in S:^

1 . i

334 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

Gladly would Vanuela have seen the Cali-
fornians smrender to Stockton, but a reconcilia-
tion which would leave Arillo in high favor with
the conquerors was no part of his plans. It was
he whom the barking dogs had driven from
beneath the window of the Temple ranch house.

Arillo and Palera searched in vain next day for
the missing messenger. At that very moment the
half-wild fellow, who had known little of mission
training, was miles away, galloping gladly to his
home in the hills. The Indians in the camp, firm
in their loyalty to the son of Leo, swore that they
knew nothing of the man.

Far out at sea, below the decks of the Cyane,
Lieutenant John Carroll tossed restlessly in his
hammock. He was thinking of Stockton's threat.
The princely Don Jos6 Antonio, the kindly Alvaro,
the jovial, witty Pico, young Palera with the
dreamer's face and poet's soul, each doomed to die
a felon's death on the scaffold!

Laden with a new weight of woe, persistently
the words of the Indian crone, fraught with a more
sinister meaning, echoed through his burdened
brain:

"The great hearts you revere shall be humbled
-—blood shall smear your path— sad and long
is the way— your heart shall be crushed as by a
stone."

CHAPTER XXIII

THE MTORN OP THB VICTORS

B a'ffV^" |«"^ °PPOsite the Paredon

laden with flowers,— flowers in wreaths .nTi
nosegays, in baskets and bouqaets,-^tag X
f'^^J^^ -"d gayly improvised Z^
for the return of their victorious army frra^tTe
camp at Palos Veides. ^ ""*

wiiTr *'™/f^ ^"^ a courier had arrived
v^th news of the victory at Domiaguez S

^ntf l^ "^' * ^"^ *^' 8^" «te"»t to f
^^i^ r *". *^y '*^^' a fe" days later

h^ WeH^"""^ «""°"^°"' "^ amved^d
had landed hK men on the beach. Butyesterdav

^?S ^ ^° '''^^ "*''' **« glorious and unex-
^cted hdings that the three American X^

!:^d:rior'*°*^""''-"'^''"^"°"-

As in the dim far ages in the hills of old Soain

l».ghts of Aragon and Castile, returning victonW
fn>m a successful foray against the inlddT<^

t^ami

236 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

so waited the people of the pueblo. On the
worn faces of the old men, in the soft, dark eyes of
the women, was the light of joy triumphant.
For once again the noble men of their tmconquer-
able race— the race that had given a new world to
man, the race that had always led the way to the
untrodden wilderness, the race that had always
been in the forefront of the age-long battle for the
Holy Paith— -had met the enemy in the deadly
roar of battle and had emerged triumphant.
They wondered now that they had ever doubted.
Clear and stirring on, the evening air burst the
melodious thrill of a bugle call, and along the
top of the low mesa beyond the river appeared a
long line of horsemen. At the sight of the waiting
crowd on the east bank their cheers swept across
the chasm of the river bed. Down the steep
trail south of the Paredon Bluflf the horsemen
scrambled, and, as they formed in columns of four
on the opposite bank, Servolo Palera, riding in
the van, unslung his guitar and lifted his voice
in song — a song in which every voice joined:

"The tide that flowed in Cort^' veins,
The blood of conquering Spain,
The race that won these hills and plains,
Has conquered once . un.

" Within our hearts the hope is strong,
The hope that cannot die —
For right has triumphed over wrong
Beneath our aouthera iky.

THE RETURN OF THE VICTORS ,37

Hu flag in du,t jg lua;
Wo Sonc of Ancient Spain."

glad «frr"orV4^^h "^ '°°'' "^ ^^^
W become Se Lw! r ""•/«»» <* Seivolo

<*ild in the pueblo ^^ ^°' "'°™"' ""<>

their a^ S^LtfT'' ""» -^foWed in
fathers!^orin. f ^ Pantaloons of thefr

air. Old men their fo^-7^ ^ ""^ » «>«
threw th,^a„^'"J^*j:-'»°^t^with pride.

of .heir stalC^C^d ^ss^'^eJ'""'*^
on both cheeks With a *■=«« them gravely

^^owered ^^flo^in'^^rthTtT. '"T

m aU that joy-maddened throM tW r*
face more radiant ^Mnfh ^ Tj "t ^^ *"ere was no

of fh^ .1, t. °°^ ^^'' caimon— the cannon

of the chux^. now standing by the wlt'^^g^

0-^

238 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

tritunphantly wreathed with blood-red roses —
that had sent the Americans scuttling back to
their ships? Was it not her husband, Don Jo66
Antonio, who had commanded the detachment,
and her son Manuel who had fired the gun?

"Ah, my son," she said, with a little sob in her
throat, "how proud I am of thee!'

He stood erect, one hand grasping the long
lance staff, the other arm around his mother.

"Not so proud, mother, as I am, as all the army
is, of thee and ti y cannon. It is the greater
pride to be the .on of ftuch a mother."

Though ■ yreto Arillo's face was tired and
worn, there was gladness in her eyes, for it was
indeed joy to her that father and brothe-'s had come
home unharmed and laden with glory. Reso-
lutely, with the patient courage of her race and
the apparent obedience of the Spanish woman,
she had seemed to put away from her the very
thought of Carroll, and to-day she was the gayest
and gladdest of the giddy throng, a gayety that
was half real, half asstmied, to hide and still the
heavy ache deep down in her heart. Of Carroll's
escape from the Paredon Bluff she was aware.
The news had been brought to her by Father
Estenaga as a street rumor, but the old man had
smiled knowingly as he told the tale.

Jos6 came striding toward her. Bending down,
he whispered in her ear.

fLV

THE RETURN OP THE VICTORS ,39

I. He

horse

Tr^ ^^^' ^^ unhanncd."
As Dcm J086 Antonio dropped fro
lus searching eyes sotaght out Loreto.

Is aU well with thee, little one?" he asked

•■All is weU. father," she said finnly.

Jo^ Antomo rnideistood, and with a sigh he
turned away to meet his wife. *

Jos«, after greeting the seflora in his mve

rag ttrough the movmg crowd for a glimpse of
the fanuhar figure of Delfina. Catchine^^ht
of h^, he .rove his lance head into th"io^d
and^^ned to her side, a hopeful hghttl^if

She noted his coming, but with head averted
contmued her gay conversation. She hadl^

naa given no sign.

n:^ •'?*• ^"^ *«**"• ^d unharmed " she
g.bed, as she took his hand. "How man^wick^

ti^ ^T^ ?°" ™"'"^* *« ^ <"«<=« by this
time. What shaU we eaU thee -major caotain

or « .t commandant? Whero are thy'e^^;

240 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

and stars, or art thou carrying water for the
thirsty soldiers on the hot days?"

With all his strange youthful digniiy, Jos6 was
keenly sensitive. His teeth met his lower lip in an
effort to still its trembling. Then he answered
in a bantering tone, much like her own, "I still
have hopes, Delfina. The war is young yet.
But epaulets and officers' commissions do not grow
on every bush, to be had for the picking."

The girl looked at him, startled. It was the
first time that he had ever made an effort to
pay her in her own ^coin. Her face changed,
and in a softened voice she said to him, half
pleadingly, her eyes beaming full upon him,
"Thou wilt come home of course, this evening,
with the Don and Manuel?"

The boy's angry flush had faded. There was
a set expression about his mouth as he responded
coolly, "No, Delfina, I shall not come home
until — well thou knowest — until I can speak
my heart to the Don. I ride to-night to the out-
post north of the Verdugo Hills, by order of
Commandant Plores."

She drew a little nearer to him, and was about
to speak, when the bugle blared the signal to fall
in, and Jos6, his face sad but his head held high,
took his place in the ranks of the cavalcade as it
marched up the long orchard-embowered street
toward the plaza.

THE RETURN OF THE VICTORS ,4,

jJi^tf^u*"^'- ^'""^ *" "O"'" he said to
AnBo^ as he wung his horse out of the ranks

b^s bndle T^. and foUowing Jos« turned his

aorse mto a side street.

^'Why adios? Art thou not coming home, my

^N^^l ride to the Verdugo Hills for the com-

^TOlt thou be home to-morrow?" queried

"No, I am under a vow, father," he said "not
to^urn home tiU a certain thing comes to pai^
Anllos pave eyes searched the boy's fece

I Z "°""°f °^- *^' Pl^^^ of ones^ „^
a vow-a voluntary penance-among those rf
great piety and devotion, but Jos« had nev^n
«nu.rkable for either. Could the boy^^
^ ^tnith? Was the intended absIcTb^

^u^^Z"^"^" '"''' ^^ J-* ^

^t^'^.^*' ^™ "* *''y wonJ, Jos«, that it is
notW ttat would bring thee or me shame -
^g that can bring dishonor to the n^e of

"I pledge you my word, father."
His b.g honest eyes met the Don's unffinchingly
^Then. my son, I trust thee. God go ^^

|4.

»_
h'

34a THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

He released his hold on the bridle rein, and
Jos6 disappeared down a side street, on his way
to the outpost at the Verdugo Hills.

That night, wrapped in his blanket, lying asleep
beneath an oak, there came to him again the
familiar vision of the days of his babyhood.
Once more he gazed at the dimly remembered
face of his father, seated with his head against
the background of the flag. Again, with bated
breath and stealthy step, he crept forward toward
him. So near he came that he could ahnost
touch the table. Then he awoke.

Above him, in the wide-spreading branches,
the leaves were whispering mysteriously of things
far beyond the ken of mortal man; still and
deathlike were the forms of his sleeping comrades;
silent as the tomb was the gloomy sweep of
inky plain. Sharply silhouetted against the great
orb of the rising moon a lone coyote, with upward
pointed nose, howled dismally.

Trembling with the sense of something imcanny,
overwhelmed with fear of the unknown force that
brought him its nightly message of mystery, Jos6
shuddered. Then, as the memory of his father's
face came to him, the boy sobbed hopelessly in
the folds of his serape.

And day by day, Delfina wept and prayed
and watched for the lover who came no more.

For many days the people of the pueblo of

THE RETURN OP THE VICTORS 243

Our Lady, Queen of the Angels, held fiesta.
Alter the long, forced abstinence from aU gayety
that had characterized the government of Gillie
the town gave itself up for a whole week to a mern^
round of balls, horse races, and other festivities
Late into the night the homes about the plaza
resounded with the gay tinkling of guitars and the
meiTy patter of dancing feet. Through the open
wmdows. squares of golden light in the surrounding
blackness, came the low sweet laughter of women
and the sound of joyous singing.

Everywhere the arms of the Califomians were
triumphant. At the approach of Don Manuel
Garfias, with a detachment from the pueblo.
Lieutenant Talbot and his smaU company of ten
mai. left in charge at Santa Barbara, escaped
and fled to the mountains. They succeeded in
crossmg over into the San Joaquin VaUey, and
only after suffering incredible hardships did they
reach San Francisco, hungry, worn, and ragged,
ban Luis Obispo and the surrounding district
WCTe agam in the hano. of the Califomians, and
daily the young men ot that locality were riding
into the pueblo and joining the forces of Flores

Fremont, with his "Bears," was reported
somewhere north of Monterey, unable to move
without powder for his rifles or mounts for his
m«i Into the mountains and out of his reach
had been driven the cattle and horses of the

;f^.

:\.

244 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

seacxjast ranches. Stockton, at San Diego, was
said to be hard pressed by a superior force of
Califomians and Indians.

By every dusty, travel-stained horseman, ru-
mors many and vague reached the pueblo.
England had declared war against the .United
States, and the Mexicans had won a signal
victory on the Rio Grande. Strange stories were
heard, coming from no one knew where, that the
mother nation, though sore presse«3 herself, had
at last barkened to the cry of her f ar-oflF daughter,
and that a Mexican axthy under Governor Pio
Pico was now on its way north through Sonora.

For a few days the escape of the lieutenant
remained a nij^tery, and then was speedily for-
gotten. The peons, filled with fear of the Black
Matador, held theJr peace, but the regular guards
in charge of the prisoners admitted that they had
that night drunk much wine— wine furnished by
an unknown hand—and had slept at their post
of duty. Flores, ilying into a passion, vowed
vengeance on the careless sentinels. But the
sudden retreat of Stockton, foUowed by the week
of rejoicing, drove the matter from his mind.
One prisoner more or less mattered little.

Though gladness reigned in the pueblo at the
ever welcome news that trickled in from the
outside, it found but a famt echo in the heart of
Loreto Arillo. The excitement attending the

THE RETURN OP THE VICTORS ,45
h^rn^ '^' ? .** thoughts Of the grievine rirl

heart tS?^ aU the first love of her woman's

mm.a, ^7f 5" *r"="' 'y*^- '•«' drooping

^^g^4?^df"^ In the dusk of ^hf
'^"^iK on tne wide, vine-covered veranda c»,«
laiowing that he understood, wotdd dSr^Tto^- '
anns like some hiirf «,-i^ Ti!^ ^ "^*° ^^

lay her fa-H^rhT'^e^^'Hr' ^"•"'
:S*c:rt'^' "^ 'if ^ent^fot^^ ^ ZghTS
cohort he could utter, the father could f^ h«

Sfi:/r4'':i«^— °'-^«d^bst

' ^"™ saze ot the sefiora and busv with tt,«
httle round of household duties, heTL^e hdd
her qu>v«ing lips still and set. but al»e ^ tte
stdl reaches of the night the sonow that Z^.
her soul gnpped her close. In vivid flasC^f
m«nory she saw the laughing blue^^ ^tS^n

to h^ tlf f "^^ ^"'*- Always there c^
to her the homd remembrance of her griefs

346 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

beginning — the night of the clanking chains —
and the cruel memory of Carroll's agonized face
that morning by the river when, with bloody
head and shaking limbs, he was led away from
her across the stream.

Then she would rise, clad only in the clinging
virginal garments of the night, her feet and arms
bare, her unbound hair a tumbling cataract of
black over her white shoulders, and steal alone
through the silent, deserted rooms to the family
chapel in the rear of the house. There, where
the candles always burned brightly before the
little wax statue of the Madonna, she would rest
her fevered brow against the cool edge of the
altar and pour forth her heart's cry for help.

"Most Holy Virgin, pray for me tiiat I may learn
to forget him. Pray God that He may forgive
me for loving him, — an enemy of my people.
I am a wicked girl to do so — but — I — I love
him — I love him so! Save and protect him from
all harm."

Dreams came to her, clear and vivid. Often
she was in Carroll's arms, basking in the radiance
of his wondrous smile. Then in the far, unseen
distance she would hear, coming nearer and
nearer, the rattle of chains and the crackle of
musketry. His face would grow pale and set,
his head bruised and bloody, and he would be
snatched from her by tmearthly arms reaching

THE RETURN OF THE VICTORS 247

out of the blackness. Then she would wake to
the misery of the present, to sob alone till the
dim radiance of the dawn lightened the latticed
window.

In the pueblo, life swung back to its wonted
way. Gone was the scorching summer heat, to
be followed by a long succession of days bright
with the strange, cool sunshine of the California
autumn. The fall rains, early this year, were
ah-eady greening the brown of the hiUs and each
morning wrapping the distant mountains in a
fairy veil of misty blue.

Down by the stream, no longer shrunken by
summer drought but flowing wide and full,
where the vineyards and orchards stretched in
irregular patches of green and brown, the peons
and Indians were busy as of old. The ripe
purple grapes hung in heavy clusters on the low,
close-cropped vines, and men sang as they fOled
the heavy baskets.

On the hill above the plaza still stood the
flagstaff erected by Gillie, but from it drooped
now the Mexican tricolor. To Don Augustin
Alvaro it was not an unpleasant sight, and he
often sat at the end of the veranda where his
eye could catch it, as it lifted lazily in the vagrant
breeze. To him, as to all the people of the
pueblo, the memory of Gillie and his rough
frontiersmen seemed but a fantastic dream that

248 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

for a few short months had broken the even
tenor of their lives. But as he gazed at the flag
he sighed, a sigh which, if not despairing, was
still not at all expressive of the high hopes that
animated the hearts of the majority of the
Calif omians.

Don Prandsco de la Guerra, a portly, cheery
man of middle age seated opposite him on the
veranda, looked at Don Augustin inquiringly.
De la Guerra was a confirmed and incurable
optimist, and he wondered at Alvaro's lack of
enthusiasm.

^ "Bah ! " he said, as he straightened his shoulders.
"We of the race of Cort^, the race that discovered
and explored the new world, can it be that we
shall fear the Americans, and they but mere
money-getters and laborers? Never! The
matchless courage of our people still lives and
shall conquer. They will never come back.
Impossible."

Don Augustin's keen eyes crinkled up into
something akin to a smile.

"But how they can shoot, Don Prandsco, those
bandoleros of Gillie! Jesus! They could shoot
the eyelashes from a gopher, and he running in
the moonlight. Por Dios, yes."

CHAPTER XXIV

THB BATTLB IN THE DARK

" Y^UR «yes are better than mine, lieutenant-
^ see If you can find them. They should be'
somewhere hereabouts." Captain Gillie handed
the glass to Lieutenant CarroU.

f«I^l!r ''^'*"' ^ ««»°^d of forty mounted
frontieran«i were eagerly scanning the landscape

m search of General Kearney and his part^X
w^ r^XMted to be on their way to San Diego.

.t^SS^T ""T ** ^^ ^'"^^ ^ Stockton
at San Diego, but they were far from the over-

whelmmg force he had expected and the CaH-
fomians had feared. ^^

«^^x.^?™^^ ^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ Port Leaven-

r^. r . ^?" ?r ^ ^''^^^'' ^^^ "meeting
^the Santa F6 trail the famous scout. Kit Carson

who had been sent east by Stockton with news of
the complete and peaceful conquest of California
^A f *^f,^P^t^o" of Los Angeles, Kearney
had decided that his laqje for^ was not needed

♦«*»: . M ^.f"""®* *^P**"*' <*o^^ ^at gulch
to^e east." said Carroll as he returned the ^.

With a welcoming cheer the frontieumwi
gaUop^ up the slope, and in a few minutes the
two parties were exchanging congratulaUoRi.

349

as© THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

Hardly a hundred men were with Kearney.
The greater part of his force he had sent back, and
had scattered the rest as garrisons in Arizona and
New Mexico, reserving only the small escort of
dragoons, with two mountain howitzers. Scout
Carson, with his bodyguard of three Delaware
Indians, had returned with Kearney's party to
guide it through the wilderness of the Colorado
basin.

Burnt brown by desert suns, gaimt and ema-
ciated from privation, ,were Kearney's men.
Nearly half of them were on foot ; the others, with
the exception of the officers, were motmted on
broken-down mules. The horses of the expedition
had been unable to withstand the terrific strain
of the march across the Colorado desert. Curi-
ously the soldiers stared at the buckskin shirts
and unmilitary garb of the frontiersmen, who
returned the stare, amusement showing in their
faces as they noted the dimmed brilliancy of the
once gaudy dragoon uniforms.

The news of the revolt of the Califomians, as
Gillie recoimted it to Kearney, was but little of a
siuprise. Letters taken from a captured Mexican,
a few days before, had told him that the conquest
had proved abortive, and during the last few days
the march of the Americans had been closely
watched by mounted men from the neighboring
heights.

THE BATTLE IN THE DARK ,5.

"Cptain Gillie, what do you Imo. ^ .u
^. hi. n«„,b.„ „d pci J. !^^

A^^PiTf^, »d si^ men, under Don

"Well," said the general slowlv "w. a-^ x
c^e two thou^nd miles to Tw ^t^f ^

issue instructions." he iw,-/* ♦.
orderly, "to have^Ur^"';;"™? *° "»
marx* an hour beforesSi^? ^^""^ '»
No bugle blared to awaken the sleepers in th.

pered word in the darkness l^dtL

left behind to guard the b^jL ^wf ^'^^
to move forward as rapidly ':';^Se""'""*""

" was bitterly cold, cold with the rf»,-
penetrating chiU of the Cahfomia ^t^t.^.'

853 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

The chattering of the men's teeth could be heard,
with the jingling of the sabers and the creak of
the gun wheels, as they trotted on through the
fog-laden gloom.

Carroll, riding close behind Kearney and Gillie
past the low adobes of the Indian villago) of San
Pascual, was silent and thoughtful. Dimly he
could see ahead of him the big white horse ridden
by Captain Johnston, who, with a dozen dragoons,
composed the advance guard. Soldier-like, the
lieutenant thrilled at th^ thought of the coming
conflict, yet there was sadness in his soul, for
somewhere in the all-enveloping darkness about
him were the courtly men of the pueblo, — the
quaint Alvaro, the jovial Don Andreas, Palera to
whom he owed his life, and probably Don Jo86
Antonio Arillo, the father of the woman he loved.

He peered ahead into the gloom, but could
discern neither sight nor sound of Johnston and his
men. They had drawn far ahead.

Discordantly a rattle of shots and red flashes
of flame cut into the softened stillness of the night.
He heard a stentorian voice ordering the charge,
then cries of dismay, the screams of wounded
horses, and the clatter of sted.

Hurriedly, Kearney, Gillie, and the little band
of dragoons about them spurred their mounts
forward. In an instant Carroll, saber in hand,
found himself in the midst of the m^^. Around

him
half

THE BATTLE IN THE DARK

ev«y ride WW the fonns of motmted
■een in the darkness,— forms lunrinff

aS3

men<

iS^«,^. 5?^ " '"• "8ht fired his pi«ol.

AnortcrshouW in Spanish, and lu , twi,Jdine
the Amencans found themselve. abn. The
O.Uom:ans had vanished as quiddv ^ tw

of ^.f J . dragoons. Instead, twenty or thirty
SeJ^S^LT"' "'"' "^ dropped behind^

Another scattering voUcy down the road and
avcnce called out in agony. "For S^'s^e
men. come upl Come up!" '

Yells, groans, and the a^gry clink of steel were

l^'-

as4 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

straight ahead of them. The Califomians had
turned, and were again attacking the advance
guard.

In a ring around the two cannon, the officers
and men of the advance and Kearney's small
party were making an heroic stand. Like clinging
smoke wreaths the fog wrapped their shifting
forms as they battled horse against horse, man
against man, sword against lance shaft.

Gillie, fighting manfully by Carroll's side,
cleverly avoided a lance thrust and drove his
sword through a Cali^omian's arm. Then a
lance point struck him full in the mouth, knock-
ing him from his horse. Whatever his oddities,
Captain Gillie was a man of magnificent person?*^
courage. Springing to his feet, his face streanm.<j
blood, he continued the unequal struggle on foot"
In the midst of the press of limging men and
rearing horses, Carroll himself was busy parrying
the st«el-tipped point that was thrust at him again
and again. Rising in his stirrups, he sent his
horse forward, and ignoring the sting of steel in
his thigh, he brought his saber down, shearing the
wooden shaft in twain. In an instant his antag-
onist had drawn his sword, and as their horses
sidled together their b^des crossed. The lieuten-
ant was face to face with Servolo Palera.

For a moment their swords slithered along
their lengths. Carroll, with the fine sense of

THE BATTLE IN THE DARK ,55

touch of the true swordanan. felt that he was
easily master. ^

••Suirender, Sefior Paleia. I cannot-"

now, friend cJSn " ^°' '"'= "" «" «"<Ji«"
As Servolo's sword flew fixMn his hand Cam,n
saw dmly above the Califomian's h^ kTZ?
of ^up^ised musket. LifSst^S^'
he mt^posed his saber. Quick enough h7^

M o^e Shoulder of Palera. knocking him fj

The owner of the musket, one of Carson's
Indians, dropped to the g^und. seized Me

ft was fuU morning now, but dim and mistv
Agroup of Cahfomians. some ^J^diS"

ttl^^u"^^? "^^^"^ *° *t« ri»t« from
tbor saddles. About the remaining gun X

fi^t was stiU on. Half of the saddles^f 2e

^csWl. ttupidly trembling m eve:y Ii,„b. „
gaUopmg nderless about the plain. Wounked

as6 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

men, all of them Americans, teemed to be every-
where, groaning in pain, and crawling from under
the feet of the frenzied horses.

Captain Moore, ahead of Carroll, gasped as if
in surprise, and the lieutenant glimpsed the
handbreadth of a lance point protruding from
between his shouldCTs as he went backward ou. of
the saddle.

Again the quick, sharp order in Spanish, and
once more the splendid mounts of the enemy bore
them swiftly out of reach. A moment later, with
a wild cheer, the main body of the dragoons gal-
loped up, but too late to take any part in the
fight. The Califomians had abandoned the field.
The Americans were nominal victors, but at
what a cost! Of the sixty-five dragoons and
frontiersmen actively engaged, one half were
hors de combat. On the ground about the remain-
ing cannon, and along the winding trail, lay
thirteen dead and eighteen wounded, among the
latter Captain Gillie and General Kearney. Not a
single Califomian, dead or wounded, was to be seen.
In the dim light of the misty dawn, Kearney's
face was drawn and haggard.

"GodI This is awful!" he said, as he surveyed
the field.

"Take twenty men, lieutenant, and the best
horses, and ride back at once. They may attack
the baggage guard."

THE BATTLE IN THE DARK 257

thtl^V^"^ ^ P^^ «^°I^ back through

jonnston, the handsome oflScer at x^h^^ Z
jests he had laughed the nX^f , "*^
Heath I,- ^""*™8lit before, lying stiff in

bS-v' ^ .'T'^ '**" " "^^ d^xied hand "
Mart. Both had faUen in the fim onslaught of the

The Californians made no further attack
^g the long day. a day of chUIing, dS^g
rain the Amencans, sobered by the unexoected
revelation of the fighting qualitfes of tTe^^y
gathered their dead and tended to their wo3

them as ^ in sympathy, the inky sky^t
««adily. Bowed with grief, abouTthe «S
graves were the sorrowing men, silent save w^
a streng man choked back a sob as the clay
fell on the faces of the comrades they had aU

as8 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

learned to know and to love far beyond the
manner of men— the comrades who had shared
with them the chilling cold of mountain nights,
the days of blistering desert sun, the perils and
privations of the long march of two thousand miles.
Carroll sighed. More blood, and still more-
would it never end? Even should Kearney
supersede Stockton, an event he had looked for-
ward to with hope, still there would be no mercy
now for the men of the broken paroles.

"How truly she spoke, that accursed witch," he
thought, as her prophetic words echoed in his
memory: "Blood shall smear your path, shall
smear your path."

As the lieutenant and the burial party returned
to the camp on the rock-strewn hillock, he heard
the click of picks and the scuffle of shovels in the
sand. Kearney's men were digging for water to
assuage the raging thirst of their wounded, whose
moans could be heard in the darkness. On the
rock-covered hilltop there was hardly a spot where
they could lie in comfort. One dragoon, a stal-
wart sw-geant, was in the last agonies of death.
Dr. Grilfin, the surgeon of the expedition, was
busy, as he had been all day, with the injured men.
Only a few mouthfuls of hardtack and dried beef
were left in the knapsacks of the soldiers.

Carroll's first thought was for Palera. Much
to his relief, he found that beyond a severely

isi^fs^sm-'i^smr

THE BATTLE IN THE DARK ,59

bnjised shoulder Servolo was unharmed. As the
Califorman smihngly answered the lieutenant's
anxious inquiry, he shivered with cold

C^^ '-iT ^^f ^J"^' ^°^°'" ^<^
w ,^,*"'^«^°se for greater warmth."
Wrapped clo^ together in the same blanket,
the two men who. but a few hours before had
^ught each other's Hves lay silent for a space
Between the lugubrious howls of the coyoti on
the plams they could hear about them the piteous
gr^ of the wounded men. The big man a few
feet away gasped loudly, and the death rattle in

^^hfr^' f '^ '^^' ^^^ ^"^ ^ «^-e. Th^
ntght had cleared, and mockingly in the black

^^ult above, the cheerful stars smiled down upon

Tlie two men. lying silent side by side, were

S:;^k"^°^-'^^-- ^-oU was the

ca:itT^raid"::.th:SdL^

Car^li*'"°^^^ ^^^^ ^"^ ^"^^ '^P^^ '^' ^"^°d

J'^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^"^* promised me that
you will be exchanged early in the morning"
went on the lieutenant, "and after the war is
Ztl^tar^'^^-there may be much

Servolo's eyes glistened in the firelight, but he

a6o THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

•ighed wearily and shook his head. The strange
presentiment that had haunted him night and
day, a presentiment that he would never live to
see the ending of the war, was now strong upon
him. For more than a month he had been as one
waiting and watching for the coming of death.

"I thank thee, friend Carroll," he responded
with a wan smile. "Glad will I be, of course, to
rejoin my comrades, but beyond that there is
naught that thou couldst do— that any one
could do — for me."

The utter hopelessness in Servolo's whisper
awoke a throb of sympathy in Carroll's kindly
heart. But he forbore questioning.

"Sefior Carroll," said Palera suddenly, "do
you love her truly— with the love of an honorable
man? In the name of the angels and the saints,
answer me truth' :ly. This means everything
to me."

The question came from Servolo's lips with
im-Castilian directness.

Carroll started, then without hesitation he
answered, firmly and gravely, "By my hope of
Heaven, I do, Servolo."

"It is well. Doubting you, I could kill you
as you sleep, but believing you, I am happy— as
happy as a broken heart can be."

Within the closely wrapped blanket Palera
grasped the American's hand and pressed it

THE BATTLE IN THE DARK 261

qtaietly He sighed again, and laying his arm
across the other, drew closer f« u- • ^
night. ^^ to him m the chill

Surrounded by the dead and dying, slumbered
the two men their anns about^TtS-!
two men whose hearts were throbbing with love
for a weepmg woman in the distanT pueblo o?
Our Lady, Queen of the Angels.

on thf ^u ?°^ smouldered the camp fires
ZJ"! ^"°^- ^^ the wide, gmy w™
bi^ed the starht silence, broke,! ^J hytt
B^ n^oyements of the watchful sentrfS^

Bornesoftlyonthenight wind came the shuffling
tmmp of many feet, the clink of accouterm«^
the sound of voices. "«=nnenis,

.», '.T°,*^' -/^ ^^s • " ^»^ted a sentinel. The
^ alarm of the bugle in an instant traiSormS
the ^mg camp into a scene of frantic acSSy

pee^orthX."^"^^^^'-^^
"Fnends---relief from San Diego," came a
reassurmg shout from the hollow

ch^'^ttr'""^'^ ^'^'^^ ^^^y ^ th« extant
c&e«^ that, sweepmg over the plain, told the

Ca^orn^s on the hills that Commod;,re Sto^!

their well-filled haversacks with the hungry
dispmted men of Kearney's command

■.*%'

CHAPTER XXV

VANUBLA STRIKES

TN anticipation of the t >:ning of Fremont, who
-*• was reported to be moving slowly south, the
Califomians had taken a position ten miles north
of the pueblo, near the Verdugo ranch house.

Hugo Vanuela, seated sideways in his saddle,
was idly watching the cavalry squadrons practicing
field evolutions on the lilain below. At the word
of command, their well-trained steeds formed into
a long line four deep, and with leveled lances they
charged on the imaginary foe. Feigning flight,
their broken squads suddenly reimited, swung
around in two long curves, and completely
surrounded the supposed enemy. Ever on the
flanks of the colimins whirled the cannons at the
riatas' ends. But the sefiora's gun was no longer
alone. Two others of Castro's gims had been
discovered and unspiked, and Arillo now com-
manded a battery of four pieces, one of them
the mountain howitzer captured from General
Kearney at San Pascual.

During the last two months Vanuela had
succeeded in communicating several times with
Commodore Stockton at San Diego. By means
of one of his Indian scouts he had forwarded to the

262

^^i^mm'wsi. -'w

VANUELA STRIKES ,63

American commander a complete and accurate
statement of the numbers and resources of the
Cahfomians. During these exchanges he lost no
opportumty of inflaming the mind of the commo-
dore a^inst Don Jos6 Antonio Arillo. whom he
pictured as the originator of the revolt and relent-
less m his hatred of everything American.

Bat Hugo's mind at the present moment was
far m<M^ occupied with the folded papers in his
hand than with past events or with the gaUopina
squadrons on the plain below. The commandant
had just mstructed him to select a capable man to
cany dispatches to Don Jesus Pico at San Luis
Obispo.

Vanuela was pondering the problem. He was
quite willing, even anxious, that the document
which announced in grandiloquent terms the vic-
tory at San Pascual should faU into the hands
of the Amencans. He would have ridden with
them himself, and thus insured their delivery to
Fremont but it was plain that he could not leave
the pueblo at, present. MacNamara was becoming
importunate: in his demands. He had intrusted to
V^uela the work of obtaining signatures to the
petition addressed to the British commodore at
Santa Barbara. Only yesterday an Indian had
gaUoped from San Gabriel, where the supposed
Spaniard, at Plores' command, had takeTfuU
charge of the powder making, with a note for

is;

I*' I

a64 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

Vanuda requesting, even demanding, that Hugo
report to him at once with definite information of
the progress he was making. The Englishman
was becoming decidedly troublesome. He would
have to be placated in some way.

Absorbed in thought, Hugo failed to notice the
approach of Jos6 Arillo, who, mounted on a
spirited white horse, had trotted up behind him.
As his glance met the gaze of the boy, there
flashed on him the memory of the manner in
which the youngster had foiled his attempt to
lance the American oflSoer at Dominguez. Hugo
licked his lips wolfishly, and his face lit with cruel
grimness.

"The young dog!" he muttered. "Him wiU
I send. If the Americans catch him, he will die,
even as Arillo is to die. " But his spoken greeting
was unusually courteous.

Jos6, at Vanuela's unwonted gradousness, reined
up his horse expectantly.

"Even now I was about to send for you, Sefior
Arillo," said Hugo deferentially. "Commandant
Plores had instructed me to select a man — a
capable, cautious man and a good rider — to
perform a great service for the government.
None better could I call to mind than thee."

"You honor me greatly, Sefior Don Hugo,"
replied the boy, not to be outdone in courtesy.
But his big gray eyes were scrutinizing the other

VANUELA STRIKES

a6s

carefully. "I «haU mdecd be glad to be
aemce to the country. What is the mission?"

I y«»h to be honest with you, Sefior Arillo,"
Vanuela contmued. "The service is not without
<ianger. The commandant wishes to send these
pap«^. amioimdng the victory at San Pascual.
to Don Jesus Pico at San Luis Obispo. The man
J^ succeeds in pUdng them in the hands of
Don Jesus winwm honor, fame, and a great name
lor hmiself . Do you volunteer ? "
At Vanuela's last words an eager look came into

jnth the other hand brushed back from his brow

qti<^^^^''^™'^'^^^^' ^«»heanswered
"Surely wiU I go, Sefior Vanuela."
"Goodf" Hugo handed him the dispatches.
J0S6 h^tated. ''May I not ride to the pueblo

and notify my father? It wiU take but little

time, he pleaded.

^ "No, no," objected Vanuela hastily. "Speed
IS of great importance. You must take the road
at once. The commandant's orders are that no
one must know-no one. I myself wiU notify
Don Jos6 Antonio for thee."

Stm Jos6 hesitated. Vanuela, through his
^wed eyelids, was closely scanning the boy's

"For Dios," he broke out haughtUy, "return to

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266 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

me the papers. I wiU seek another messenger-
one who does not set terms and conditions."

"No, no; I wiU ride at once," repKed the
boyish victim. "Adios, sefior."

He shook Vanuela's hand, swung his snow-
white steed about, and galloped away. For the
memory of Delfina's stinging words, "carrying
water for the soldiers," returned to him with force.
Ah ! Now would she see what his superiors thought
of him I When he returned, crowned with success,
honored by the commandant and the whole army,
how proud she would be of him!

As he galloped on ^through the cool morning
sunshine his heart echoed to the sound of his
horse's hoofs, ever beating out the words of the
thoughtless girl. "Win a great name—win a
great name."

But one thought clouded his happiness— a
regret that he could not have told Don Jos6
Antonio of his good fortune and obtained his
consent.

At that very moment the Don himself, seated
in the large living room of his home, his mihtary
garb soiled and spattered, was listening to the
petulant words of his wife.

"Dios de mi ahna," she grumbled, "can the boy
be possessed of an evil spirit? Again and again,
I have been told, he has ridden into the pueblo
from the camp at the Verdugos, but never comes

VANUELA STRIKES

been blind Xt is^t' =^' "°*"'- """^«
young folks lo^^^r^-^i^lf'-'^ <"-«'; the

has^anyLnge'^^il^tHS"^';;:::
cannot tell " "®' ^^®

he^D^re1^eoS"-^«"ene«^„.

•• Jo^ t°><J me on his word of honor that he was
rnider a vow not to retnn, home until a ^
thmghadcometopass. Cammba! WeWW

once^ he added, a Uttle impatiently. "'

Wen *e unde^_:Vo-(nort"sLr'

Oh, why could he not be like other men. men X'
ibou^ scorned and rebuffert i,.^ • '

again sung at her wS^*^k„d1„^«r f".0
profession of their love at Lrbt S^^/Jklv
^mbreros at her feet, men who L^Se h^

protestations of devotion? JPace to face with

268 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

the girl was

such un-Castilian stubbornness,
astounded and mjrstified.

Wiping her eyes, she hurried to the little
chapel. Sinking on her knees, she looked long
and reverently at the statue of the Madonna.
How happy she looked I To the girl's super-
heated imagination, the fruit of weeks of worry,
the waxen lips seemed to curve in a cahn, con-
tented smile.

"Ah," she sobbed, reaching out her open hand
protestjngly, "you may smile— you have had all
your heart desires— ybu have your nene. You
smile— you do not care. And I have prayed to
you, night after night, day after day, to bring
my Jos6 back to me. And still you smile. You
do not care."

Wrought to a high pitch of excitement by her
maddening thoughts, she sprang to her feet and
advanced to the altar, a desperate look on her
tear-stained face.

Halting, she bowed her head. "God forgive
me," she murmured, "if it is wrong, but I must—
I must — I must have him back."

As she glanced up again the peaceful smile of
the Madonna maddened her. Ahnost beside her-
self with mingled anger and reUgious emotion, she
reached out, took the waxen image of the infant
Jesus from the arms of the statuette, and rev-
erently wrapping it in the folds of a silken scarf,

VANUELA STRIKES .^^

AriUo had gaUoped back to the camo Th.
nien were af- Hinn<>. , *-««np. ihq

Tos6 wit L u ^' ^"P^^ about the fires
JOS6 was nowhere to be found

riding with di^tch« oT^fjt,^'^™'
order of Commandant Plores." ' ^^

Like a inife thrust he deliverp-i fi,. _ j

Mahcious gladness manifest kihu 1' u r
Vanuelagaz' ' -leefnltJ^!? 1? ^ *^^^ ^^'

the papers on the table. o«^Pied with

"Sanguis," he panted "can h Ko *
W «„t that C^t^d^oi^to^^
wth Aspatches? It seems incJSei" ^

./I

a;© THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

Plores' gaze, as he met the Don's indignant
look, was steady, but his face flushed angrily at
Arillo's words.

He himself would hav hosen anothT mes-
senger, but Vanuela had **ssured him the boy
was competent. The thing was done ; the boy was
now far out of reach. Besides, he was irritated by
the peremptory tone of Arillo. The commandant
was in no mood to be dictated to by any one.

"Calm thyself, my dear Don Jos6 Antonio,"
he said reassuringly. " It is true the boy was sent
by my command. He* is a soldier and an Arillo,
and obeys orders without questioning. He is
mounted on one of the blancos of Don Andreas
Pico, which, as you doubtless know, can out-
distance anything in California. There is really
no need for anxiety."

Don Jos6 Antonio bit his lip; his face was white
with indignation. Regaining control of himself,
he said slowly: "Don Jos6 Maria Flores, you are
our commandant and governor, and as such I
salute you and obey you." He bowed formally,
a bow which Flores, rising to his feet, as gravely
returned. "But if that boy comes to any harm,
by all the saints and angels, when the war is over,
California — nay, the whole earth — will be much
too small to hold us both. One of us shall die."

The commandant was not lacking in cool
courage.

VANUELA STRIKES 371

"I accept, Don Jos6 Antonio. If— as I believe
^ very unlikely-the boy prove unfortunate,
tlien I wiU meet you at your pleasure."

"There is much else at the bottom of aU this

?^AAfu-''T'^'''" "^^ ^^^' ^hen Arillo
nad told him his story.

The two men were seated on their horses,
lacmg one another.

"I cann.. believe it is the doing of Commandan.
Flores, he is — "

He stopped short, his eyes fixed in wonder-
wonder m which there was sudden, startled
recogmtion.

A man had ridden up quietly behind Arillo. It
was MacNamara. a black, wide-brimmed Ameri-
can hat weU down on his head, a big bandana hand-
kerchief drawn over his mouth as a protection
ag^t the flying dust of the road. As he walked
his horse past the two. he jerked the handkerchief
down from his face and bared his head in courteous
salute.

Don Augustin sat rigid as a statue. Arillo.
bis back to the newcomer, stared at his friend
uncomprehendingly. Suddenly Don Augustin
stuped his horse forward and whispered in
AnUo s ear. "Qmck, quick! Ride with me!"

Alvaro was v/hirling down the trail, slashing his
horse with his quirt. Don Jos6 Antonio, reading
in the agitated face of his companion something

373 '^ HE DONS OP THE- OLD PUEBLO

inomentous, wheeled about and galloped with
him, till the camp was out of sight.

For once the cool imperturbability of Don
Augustin had deserted him.

"Name of God, Don Jos6 Antonio, but we have
been fools!" he panted. "I know him now.
He is none other than MacNamara— Padre
MacNamara, to whom Pico gave the lands. By
the God above, I swear it I I recognized him when
he rode up, his head bared, his beard covered—
those big eyes— tha|; broad brow. Madre de
Dios, it is surely, surely he!"

Arillo sat still, attentive, wordless. "Yes,
yes," he finaU> admitted, "I believe thee. It is
none other. Always have I known that I had
seen him somewhere before."

Alvaro's words needed no other confirmation
than the insistent, intangible, haunting memories
that had come to the Don at every sight of
Ahnagro's large, dark face and at the tones of
his deep voice.

Not a word was spoken as the two men, bend-
ing over their saddles, galloped toward the dty.
The minds of both were busy with the same
thought. The supposed Spaniard had been with
them ever since the first attack on Gillie. They
recalled a hundred corroborative incidents, — h«'s
participation in the attempt to murder tLe
American prisoners; his attempt later to have

VANUELA STRIKES

them

373

It to Mexico, an attempt that was frus-
trated only by the firm opposition of the two men
now gaUoping toward the pueblo; his continual
soundmg m the ears of the Californians the tale
of the greatness and glory of the British Empire
Enghsh sovereigns and guineas had been for
many months circulating freely in the pueblo.
MacNamara had ever been in close touch with
Flores: he had had time to do much. What had
he accomplished ? Could it be that he and Flores
were in a conspiracy to deUver California to
England? Why otherwise had the British fleet
hngered through the autumn months at Monterey
and later at Santa Barbara?

Arriving at the house of AriUo, the two men at
once sent couriers gaUoping with secret messages
to every officer upon whom they could depend
warning them to slip away from the camp during
the early hours of the night. But it was near
midnight before they gathered, an anxious,
excited group in the big room of the Arillo home.
In awestruck silence they listened while Don
Augustin told his tale. Not one man doubted
Its trut!i, not one could be found who knew aught
of Don Pablo de Ahnagro before his sudden
appearance in the pueblo during the days of
Gillie's rule. Every action of his since they had
known him confirmed Alvaro's theory.
AH eyes were turned on Don Andreas Pico,

-%i

V4 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

upon whose presence Alvaro had insisted. What
would his attitude be ? 1 or once in his fun-loving
life there was no merriment in Pico's face. Rising
to his feet, he said slowly:

"For some time have I suspected the man.
Always has he boasted to me of the might and
justice f England. But yesterday he vowed
that if it was the English we were facing instead
of the Americans, he woa^ not fight. He was
speaking of the English ships at Santa Barbara
when we were intem^pted. Whatever his aims,
I do not believe there is any plot to which Piores
is a party. Nor am L I am not for England,
though Pio was. I am for a free California!
Now let us make sure before we accuse Flores.
Let us ride at once to the powder house at San
Gabriel, capture the man, and force from him
the truth."

Without a dissentmg voice, this plan was
adopted, and Arillo, Alvaro, Pico, and a dozen
others, angry and determined, were soon galloping
through the night toward San Gabriel.

CHAPTER XXVI
"the bnd is now in sight"
JJUGO VANUELA bent the lithe sword blade
almost double, and smiled as the sliiny strip
of steel flashed back into place. His heavy
mouth was gnm, but it was plain that his thoughts
were not unpleasant.

"Let us begin, Pedro," be suggested. "It is
now some weeks since we have had a bout."

The middle-aged man seated on the bench by
the door of the adobe, merding the cord on the
handle of a rapier, glanced up at Hugo curiously.
"Jesus Maria, Hugo, my son, but thou art
ever anxious for sword play. WeU art thou aware
that I have LM^^ht thee all I know. Even now
thou art ahnost a match for me. Truly do I
believe that with the rapier thou art the equal
of any man in California."
Vanuela's eyes brightened with gratilied pride.
"J.t is kind thou art to siiy so, r:y Pedro, yet
it is but thy years that teU againsi: thee. Easily
and often canst thou touch me yet."

Pedro was still strong a: d arect, but his grizzled
hair and wrinkled brow told of advancing years.
At Hugo's words he ceased Lis work to gaze
moodily at the beU tower of San Gabriel Mission
Church. few yards away. His though';s were

'75

^76 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

of the far^ff days when his had been the best
blade m aU th*? army of the long of Spain.

•Ay de mi." he sighed. "Yes, it is true: I
grow old. Pot Dios, so must it come to aU of
us, but," he shrugged his shoulders, "I have had
my hfe,— battle and march, women and love
and wme, rest and food. One must be content."
The two roUed up the sleeves of their sword
arms and saluted. As if anxious to wipe from his
mwnory Vanuela's words of a few moments before
Pedro took the offensive from the first. The
years seemed to faU from him. and as he wheeled
about his antagonist his agile movements had
all the supple grace of a dancer.

Vanuela, purely on the defensive, the set
gnm smile still on his face, hardly moved, meeting
every pass and lunge with alert readiness. Ped.
redoubled the fury of his attack, only u mest
^th the same impassable defense. As the fur/
of the veteran's sword play moderated, Vanuela,
with a sudden movement of hie wrist, sent the
old man's sword whirling to the grass.

Pedro stood silent for a moment, his shoulders
droopmg patheticaUy. Then he walked back to
the bench and resumed his seat.
^^ "Senor Huf^o Vanuela," he said impressively,
old as I am, thou art the only man in California
can disarm me. I will fence no more with thee-
thou art my master."

"THE END IS NOW IN SIGHT" ay,

Vanuela stood silently cutting hissing drJet in
jne air with the shimmering streak of steel
There was a look of deep meditation oq his face*
Pedro stared at him wonderingly.

"Why dost thou love it so, Don Hugo? For
fuU seven years hast thou come to me. ever since
thou wast a boy, and paid .e for my teaching
many a round piece of American gold. "^Why isi?
so? There IS but httle use for the sword in these
days even though there be war in the land. tS
bullet IS everj^g; the good steel noth ig~not

as m the old days." he sighed. "Why .ft thou
love^ the clatter of the rapiers, may I be pet
netted to ask? It is in truth the rLiXe

Vwuela's blue eyes contracted to mere slits.

^Irlrr'^.T^f' ^^ ^ ^^« ^^« light his

dark face looked ahnost diabolic. » » ""

J'Jr^''^ '^ * "^•" h« ^"^ slowly, "an enemv
that I would kiU by the sword." ^ ^^y'

^yr'f. ■I^'^' ^^* '^ '^-" The old man shud-
deredahttle. "ThegoodGodpity him, whoever
he be. If ever he meets thee with steel— as I
^ve, the prayers of his patron saint will avaa
him nothmg. And that fine sword of thine-
there is none like it outside of old Spain."

as he brki':! [t r' '^''''" ^^ «"^° ^^^^^

Bidding Pedro farewell, he vaulted to his

'i.-

278 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

horse's back and with head bont in thought walked
his steed past the slowly crumbling arches of the
mission courtyard.

Truly, in the present condition of affairs,
there was but little comfort for Hugo Vanuela.
Never at any time had the outlook for the final
success of the Caiifomians been so promising.
Neither the spectacular defeat of the Americans
at Dominguez field, nor the fact that many of
the Califomian officers, among them Arillo and
Alvaro, were now openly in favor of beginning
peace negotiations with the Americans, had
caused him much anxiety. But since the tri-
imiphant return of Don Andreas Pico, victorious
from the field of San Pascual with the captured
cannon, and the astoimding news that the Cali-
fomian lances had met the dreaded American
soldiers from the mysterious east and defeated
them, confidence reigned supreme among the
insurgents. It was a confidence so enthusia&iic
and universal that even the cold temperament of
Vanuela Tras impressed.

From the south came no news. Stockton
was still at San Diego, afraid, Flores claimed, to
face the long lances of the caballeros. Though
Fremont was marching south, only half of his men
were said to be mounted, and his progress, owing
to the inclement weather, was painfully slow.
Rumors, too, were flying thick and fast that the

V?,

"THE END IS NOW IN SIGHT" 279

war with the United States was ended, and that
California was to remain a part of Mexico.

But the most portentous news of the last few
days— news that had thriUed every Califomian
heart with joy and brought but troubled frowns
to the face of Vanuela— was that the powder-
making experiments at San Gabriel under the
direction of MacNamara had proved a complete
success. Altogether, the chances of the Americans
retummg victorious to the pueblo were becoming
more and more remote.

Turning his horse at the mission church, Hugo
trotted up the silent, dusty street to the powder
house. The sentry at the door barred the way
but MacNamara, his face blackened and his
hands sooty, came to the door and greeted him
cheerily.

During the last few months the secret agent had
been far from idle. In the pueblo he stood high.
His commanding yet prepossessing personaHty,
ha httle touch of the old-land accent, his knowl-
edge of the great world beyond the seas, his
nevCT-failing courtesy, had proved a passport to
the hearts and the homes of the people. In pubUc
gatherings his views were listened to with respect
and attention.

AU this was but part of the waiting game he
was now playing. Ah-eady a trustworthy handful
who suspected if they did not know of his real

28o THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

mission, had given him their promise of support
when the time should come. And that that
time would come— when the northward advance
of Stockton would remind the Califomian leaders
that their lives would be forfeit, and when the
American commander, whom MacNamara believed
to be arrogant and relentless, would refuse to
grant amnesty to the men of the broken paroles-
he was absolutely certain. Face to face with the
crowning indignity of ^ death on the scaffold,
the leaders of the Califomians would have no
choice but an appeal to the British commodore.

Within the low, heavy-beamed room, a dozen
Indian boys were engaged in grinding material
m mortars. In the far comer Father Sanchez of
the mission church was absorbed in the manipula-
tion of a pair of scales. Bags of crude saltpeter
and barrels of sulphur stood in the comers, while
a long table was piled high with the burnt and
blackened twigs of the willow.

^'Is everything going well?" inquired Hugo.

"Most exceUently, my worthy friend. Look
at this.'* MacNamara reached into a covered
box and fished out a handful of shining black
grains.

It was with secret reluctance that the English-
man had taken charge of the powder-making
experiments. He had no particular desire to see
the Califomians well equipped with a supply of

"THE END IS NOW IN SIGHT" a8i

good powder. But the command of Flores had
been peremptory. The manufacture of powder
wa^ at that period, part of the training of every
military officer, and of that fact Flores was weU
aware. The secret agent could find no good
r^onforrrfusal. He consoled himself , however.

rln^Vt'^x!^ '^* ^ *^" «^^ of events
demanded it he could easily adulterate the

mixture at the last moment. Even that might not
be necessary. He was ahnost ready now to
a^mmumcate with the commodore at Santa
Barbara, and the moment the British marines
amyed m the neighborhood of the pueblo he
would see to it that the powder house and aU
that It contained were placed in their possession,
to be used. If necessary, against the Califomians
themselves. This settled, his energetic nature

soon lost it^lf in the joy of accomplishment.

Fnend Hugo." he said triumphantly, "not
even m the armories of the king of Spain is better
powder bemg made. Give my thy pistol, and
come without."

He loaded, and fired at a tree a few yards away.
A sharp, dean report, and the bark flew from the
trunk m ghstening white chips.

h^if^;^:," r?^^ ^^""^^' His eyes were
half closed, but he was aU attention. Behind

his dark brow his brain was busy. He was face
to face with a damning crisis in his plans

282 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

"The trouble was," went on MacNamara, still
full of his achievement, "that in the powder you
used for the first sho.s at Dominguez there was too
much sulphur and charcoal." He waved his hand
toward the heap of blackened twigs on the table

Vanuela stood drinking in every word, his eyes
still half closed.

"Too much sulphur— too much charcoal.
What effect has that on the powder?" he queried
carelessly.

"It makes it slow t.? go off— much smoke
and httle force. They teU me the cannon balls
smiply rolled alo. ^ the ground at Dominguez
until the last shots, when they used the old
powder."

Vanuela nodded confirmation.

"Then, too," continued the Englishman, "it
is largely a matter of the right proportions."
He reached down into a cask and drew out a
handful of grayish dust. "Seventy-five parts of
saltpeter, thirteen of charcoal, and twelve of
sulphur. This mixture we dampen till somewhat
moist. Then it is thoroughly kneaded. We then
press It between these heavy weights, using this
lever, he pomted to a huge beam weighted with
rocks which ran the length of the room, "until
the moisture is squeezed out. Then the hard
material produced is again pulverized, and behold,
we have powder, and good powder."

"THE END IS NOW IN SIGHT" 283
sleepy eyes were searching the room.

a few notes of a bugle call

Vanuela

and he whistled ^^

"This is sulphur," he laid hiTh^d on the big
box near him; "and this is powdered charcoal;
and this is the correct mixture, ready to be wet."'
He laid his hand on each as he spoke.
"So-0-0," he continued, "it seems simple, after
all. Ah, my dear Ahnagro, we are indeed for-
tunate to have foimd you."

He looked amazed admiration into the other's
face. MacNamara's eyes laughed back.
"How goes it in th*^ pueblo?"
The words themselves were of no import, but
the secret agent's sharp glance was fuU of
meaning

"I hiive news." Vanuela's voice sank to a
whisper. "Meet me—can you meet me here
say, at midnight?"

MacNamara frowned for a moment, and looked
at Hugo questioningly.

"Why here?" he demanded. "Oh, well," he
resumed quickly, "it is a quiet spot. I have
access here at aU times, and there is no chance of
eavesdropping or interruption. There is always
a guard at the door. I wiU dismiss him, and
wait for you. Good, then I snail expect you—
at midnight."

Vanuela rode away. On his sinister counte-
nance was a look of vicious determination.

■ m

384 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

ITirough his mind ran the words of the EngUshman
the day he had revealed his plans and identity:

J Z^ ^11 ^^*^ y°"' "^y ^"^"d." Hugo
chuckled auchbly. "Those wer« thy words ?o
me, Ahnagro."

It was nearing midnight when MacNamara.
swathed m a heavy serape. for the December
inght was chill stepped up to the sentry at
the door of the powder house and remarked
graciously:

"Pablo, my boy, ypu may if you wish go and

smg a verse or two to your lady love. IwiUtake
your place till sunrise."

Directly Vanuela, who had been lurking behind
the choir steps of the mission church, watching
for MacNamara's arrival, sauntered in.

For the last three weeks the EngUshman had
heea urging on him the supreme importance of
Haste m the matter of signatures to the petition
addressed to the British commodore at Santo
Barbara, asking him in no equivocal terms j
declare a protectorate over California. Mac-
Namara, after having been sharply reprimanded
by Flores for his many absences from the powder
ho^. had left the matter to Vanuela, who had
been for days buoying him up with encouraging
but false reports of the progress he was maldng
. Have you the list, Hugo?" he questioned
impatiently.

•THE END IS NOW IN SIGHT" 285

"I have." Vanuela fumbled in his clothing
with his left hand. His right was hidden behind
his back.

"Had you not better strike a light, that you
may read the signatures?" Hugo suggested.

ow^ ^^^* "* ^®^^" snapped MacNamara.
Man, are you mad? Do you wish to be blown
to the angels? You can teU me the names you
have." ^

"I cannot remember them all," Hugo said
hesitatingly. "Pico, Aguilar, Del VaUe, Alvaro— "

"Alvaro!" There was startled increduHty in
MacNamara's voice os he peered sharply at
Vanuela. Alvaro he knew as the bosom friend
of Arillo.

^^ "Good," he remarked after a moment's pause."
"Listen, friend Hugo; the time has come for
action— for me to ride to Santa Barbara. I wiU
show this paper to the commodore, but only to
warn him that there is a movement among the
Califomians in favor of England, and show him
my credentials. Later, when Stockton starts on
his march north and when Plores begins to realize
the uselessness of further resistance, I wiU point
out to them their possible fate if Stockton insists
on the appHcation of the full penalty of mihtary
law in the matter of the paroles. Then we can
double the number of the signatures. It will
surely be unanimous. When that time comes, as
It

h I

986 THE DONS 0^ THE OLD PUEBLO

it surely wiU, I shal go again to Santa Barbara
with the complete list and urge the commodore to
hoist the British flag. This." tapping the papers
in his hand, "will show the world that we have
the wnsent of the Califomians-that we are not.
hke the Americans, unwelcome conquerors. When
I return the second time it wiU be as Captain
Eugene MacNamara of her Majesty's Royal
Mannes.

"Themainpartof this work, the mixing of the
ingredients, is now complete," he (declared, as
he laid his hand on the edge of the barrel by his
. side. "Father Sanchez and the boys can do the
wettmg and pressing as weU as I. To-morrow at
midnight I will start. Do thou teU them I have
gone to San Pedro in search v' more saltpeter.
Ah. Hugo." he added triumphantly, "thou hast
been a friend indeed. There will be place, power,
and gold for thee under the new r6gime. It has
been a long and hard road, but the end is now in

"Yes," assented Vanuela slowly, "the end is
now in sight."

For a moment he seemed pondering some
problem.

"There is," he suggested "ahnost Kght enough
at the window— the moonlight is very bright— to
read the names or at least to note how many there
are." Vanuela's tongue was moistening his dry

"THE END IS NOW IN SIGHT" ag;

Hps. In the hand held behind his back was a
bnght, metallic gleam.

TTie Englishman leaned toward the window, his
head b^t to one side, the paper held dose to his

CI* ..^""^^^^ '^ turned toward Vanuela.

Slowly, deHberately, as if to make the surety of
the thrust absolute. Vanuela raised his arm high
above his head. For an instant, while the mow-
hght ghtttt^ on the broad blade, his eyes wer^
fixed on the swelling cords of the other's throat.

lHai vwth a merciless downward sweep he .drove
tho knife to the haft in MacNamara's neck.

The strcken man dropped the paper, his knees
bent, and his mouth opened in a gasp. With a
quick, certain movement Vanuela snatched the
serape from the table and wound it around his
head and mouth. The EngUshman tottered
backward, gurgling miserably and clutching at
Its smothering folds, while Vanuela bent over
him, dnvmg the blade again and again irto his
vict«ns neck and breast. Then his strong brown
h^ds grasped and held the cloth-enwrapped head
and wnthmg body until it sank still and silent to
the floor.

Without -mwinding the doak, Vanuela's lone
fingCTs found the documents. As he wiped the
bloodstamed papers on MacNamara's garments
he murmured vengefully. '"I would have killed
you, my fnend.' KiUed me. eh? So-o-o "

•88 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

The man on the floor opened his eyes. The
doth had fallen from his blood-smeaxed face.
He raised himself slightly on one arm. Por an
instant the moonlight glistened on his glassy,
upturned eyeballs, and from his clotted beard
came the words, "God— God— save England.
God save— the— "

Like a tiger Vanuela was upon him. Again
and again the knife found his throat, and the
body fell back limp and breathless to the floor.

In an instant Vamtela was on his feet. lie
rushed to the boxes containing the sulphur and
the charcoal and, grasping an earthenware vessel,
dumped measure after measure of each into
the cask contf • ling the correctly proportioned
mixture.

*'Much siiioke and little force," he muttered
gleefully, as, reaching both arms deep into the
cask, he stirred the contents to a semblance of
consistency.

He led his horse silently away in the moonlight,
and mounted behind a clump of sycamores.

"A fine man, truly, but I could use him no
further. He had become troublesome. 'I would
have killed you, my friend,' " he chuckled as he
disappeared in the night.

A thundering clatter of hoofs by the mission
church, and Arillo, Alvaro, Pico, and a dozen

"THE END IS NOW IN SIGHT" 989

others who had attended the secre* -neetin^- dashed
up to the door of the powder house.

They found within, hacked to death by a
hundred knife cute and weltering in a pool of his
own blood, the man whom they now knew to be
Padre Eugene MacNamara.

Wonderingly, they bore him into the moonlight
and laid his mangled form on the ground. Don
Augustin alone seemed immoveu. He had never
forgiven MacNamara for his attempt on the
Uves of Willard and his men. The silence was
broken by the dick of his snuffbox cover and his
muttered comment: "The devil has claimed
his own."

But the others crossed themselves, and shud-
dered.

w I ;

i ! 1

CHAPTER XXVII

THB TBRROR OF THB 8CAFP07*'

•'QTOCKTON has rejected your offer of peace.
*^ caballeros; he is determined to retake the
pw >lo."

1 ..e dusty, travel-stained courier was addressing
the officers of the Califomian army, assembled in
a room of the Verdugo ranch house. He had just
returned from an interview with the American
commander, who, with his entire force, except a
hundred men left as a garrison at San Diego, was
now halfway between San Diego and Los Angeles.
Arillo, Alvaro, and Cota had at last succeeded
in inducing their compatriots to make a tentative
offer of pf^ace. At the council of war held a week
ago— a ccmca that had lasted through twenty-
four hours of wranglir^— the majority had
finaUy voted in favor of extending th- olive
branch to the ad\ancing Americans. Tlie ourier
had galloped south with a written communication
from Flores to Stockton, a c^)mmunication which
suggested a complete suspension of hostilities,
leaving the fate of California to be detennined by
the result of the war in Mexico. He was now
presenting a report of his mission.

"Not for a moment would the American hearken
to your suggestion, sefiores," went on the courier

THE TERROR OP THE SCAFFOLD .91

In A troubled voice. 'Tor Dio«. hardly was I
treated with common courtesy."

In detaU he related the incidents of the in-
terview. Commodore Stockton had glanced
hurriedly over the document, and then remarked
contemptuously:

"Humph—signed by Flores— calls himself
governor and miUtary commandant of California
There is but one governor of California, and his
name is not Flores. There is, however, a man of
that rame, a disgraced and dishonored rebel who
has broken his parole. I wiU have him hanged
when he falls into my hands. I suppose that is
the feUow whose name is at the end of this scrawl "
As the courier concluded, there was silence in
the htUe room. Every eye was turned on Flores
whose face blanched a litUe as he tugged at his

mustache. But his voice was cahn enough as he
queried:

Dcii^^or °^* ^^ *^^^*^ proposition, Don
"He did. seiior. He stated that he would
accept a surrender of our forces provided that
vre surrender to him, unconditionally, the person
of our commandant and governor, Don Jos6
Mana Flores, to be tried for his life. Otherwise
he wiU court-martial and hang aU the cabaUeros
who have broken their paroles, when he captures

292 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

Shocked and stunned by this revelation of the
relentlessness of the American commander, the
Dons sat for a moment in wordless silence. That
any officer calling himself a gentleman and a
Christian should manifest such a cold-blooded
desire for vengeance was almost past belief.

Like a flash, anxiety and apprehension gave
way to rage and indignation. The room burst
into a babble of bitter ejaculations. Though the
Califomians had yielded to the arguments of
Arillo and Cota, many of them were far from
convinced of the hopelessness of their cause, but
they had been sincere in their desire to avoid
further bloodshed. The Americans had met their
well-meant suggestion by a proposition so utterly
insulting to honorable men that their blood
boiled within them.

*'God and his angelsl" raged Cota, his fair face
flushed with passion. "Does he think we are
such craven cowards that we would save oiu-selves
by consenting to the murder of our general?
Thy ansT^er, Don Domingo, thy answer I" he
demanded vehemently.

Olivas had risen to his feet, all the pride of the
gente de razon manifest in his bearing.

"To him I said that sooner would we die with
Flores."

"Good! Good!" came in a unanimous chorus
Irom all parts of the roona.

THE TERROR OP THE SCAFFOLD 993

"Jesus Marial They are aU alike, the Amer-
icans," commented Flores bitterly. "Gillie,
Stockton, and Fremont who murdered the
unarmed Benyessaboys—aU of them. Strangers
^e are they to honor, mercy, and good faith."
But m his pale face there was a quiet heroism as
he added, "Yet I place myself in your hands.

amtgos. Say but the word, and I wiU yield myself
to the American."

"You shall not."

The words came like a pistol shot from the lips
ofAnUo. Between himself and the commandant
there had ever been but little sympathy, but by
none among the Dons had Stockton's offer been
held a greater insult than by Don Jos6 Antonio.

"For Dios, it is an honor to be so threatened by
the commodore— an honor I had not anticipated,"
was Don Augustin's sarcastic comment, as he
took a rather deUberate pinch of snuff.

Don Andreas Pico was giggling. "Friend
Manuel," he said, turning to Garfias, "'tis said
thou art one of the best dancers in the pueblo
Dost thou think thou couldst dance as weU as
usual on air.? I wonder now, will there be
music?"

Hugo Vanuela, seated in a comer, his chair
tipped back, made no comment. He had earnestly
supported Arillo and Cota in regard to sending the
offer of peace to Stockton. He had reasons for

,.^;i

. |.

394 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

knowing what the American's answer would be.
Though his sphinx-like countenance hid his
emotions, his cruel heart was throbbing triumph-
antly as, with half-closed eyes, he lazily watched
the Dons struggling in the meshes of the net his
wily brain had woven.

It was exactly the continge-i<y long foreseen by
the shrewd mind of Eugene MacNamara. Hugo
could not restrain a grin as he thought of the
Englishman lying in his unmarked grave at
San Gabriel. *

"Pot Dios, but he was clever," he soliloquized.

Don Jos6 Antonio was silent. There was
anguish in his face, but it was not the anguish of
fear. Not of himself was he thinking, as he
stared unseeingly at the opposite waU. Before
him arose, cruel in its vividness and deceptive
promise, the mental picture of the evening in his
own home when he had seen his daughter's eyes
full of joy and love upraised to the flushed,
happy face of John Carroll.

He was convinced of the utter hopelessness of
the Calif omian cause; convinced, too, of the
relentlessness of the American commander. Sud-
denly he drew himself up with a quick Uttle shrug
of resolution. His cahn words expressed the
unanimous sentiment of the meeting:

"We have no choice, evidently, but to fight— to
fight to the end."

THE TERROR OP THE SCAFFOLD 295

What force has the American, Seflor Olivas ? ' '
inquired the commandant.

"He has about five hundred men, all on
foot, and armed with carbines and bayonets "
responded the messenger. "They are marching
m a hoaow square inclosing about a hundred
head o. cattle and several wagons. The country
being bare of herds, they slaughter their cattle
for food as they are needed. I saw six cannon;
there may be more. They are marching slowly
on account of the cattle, making about ten miles
a day."

^^ "CabaUeros," said Flores, rising to his feet,
"marshal your divisions. We march at once to
take up a position at the Jaboneria ford of the
San Gabriel River. They will attempt to cross
there to-morrow or the day after."

They lost no time. In half an hour the long
lines of cavalry were trailing over tlie level plain
toward the pueblo.

Don Jos6 Antonio, with Manuel by his side,
rode slowly across the plaza toward his own home!
Soberly his grave eyes rested on the figures of his
wife and daughter. They stood on the veranda
wavmg their kerchiefs in joyous recognition, a^
the troops filed slowly past. Servolo Palera
slowed his horse for a moment, and looked at the
girl long and earnestly, his soul in his eyes. But
she did not see him; her face was turned away.

it)-

! i

296 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

toward her father and Manuel. Then his chin
sank on his breast, and he rode on.

Seated within, Don Jos6 Antonio told them the
stoiy — the sending of the courier with the proffer
of peace, and the determination of Stockton to
take the uttermost vengeance for the broken
paroles.

"My dear wife," he said, "I will be frank
with thee. I fear we cannot defeat the Ameri-
cans. In that case, the worst he threatens may
come to pass."

The sefLora sat dazed, wordless, pale with horror.
Manuel, standing by his father's chair, was
weeping silently. Loreto, her hands on her
heaving bosom, stared at Don Jos6 Antonio,
incredulous terror in her eyes. Then with a low
moan she threw her arms about him, and sobbed.

"Holy Mother, it cannot be! They would not
— they could not — be so cruel."

At !ast the horrible significance of her husband's
words penetrated the bentmibed brain of Senora
Arillo. Two large tears were slowly stealing down
her cheeks.

"The robbers! The bandits!" she cried. "Oh,
how happy we were before they came — and
since, naught but tears and blood, grief and
sorrow. And now this — this — "

Words failed her. Broken at last was the
proud spirit of Senoia Arillo. Her head sank on

THE TERROR OP THE SCAFFOLD ,g,
the^table, and her shoulders shook mth heaving

Dot Jos6 Antonio, his face ashen, his lips
trembhng, slowly .eleased himself from Ws
daughterV, dingtog anm and rose to to f«t
Gravely he kissed his wife faiewcH and, as Wo
came agam to his arms, he whispered in h«^^^
If the worst happens, be kind to him-as

^nt^rV""- .He is not to blame. Even now
™ow hJs heart is aching like ours."
Cto him the girl turned an indignant glance
Never, never, father. If_if it comi^^^-she

words - to the end of my days shall I loathe aU
Americans with an undying hatred "

Don Jos« Antonio seemed to be giving wav
under the ordeal. Suddenly his iaS7^g^!
Itpewfinnahnost cheerful. To whom if ^t
hmi, the husband and the father, could these look
for comfort in this hour of their tribulatiW , He
must have courage for all.

on"t?.° TfTZ '°'" """ ^^' ^ •>« ^ i^ hand
^hS* ^ °* ^ ""^S wife. "It is not yet
^ded. We may win. Or Stockton may rel^t
o^-many things may happen. Be hoprf-T^d
S7^?h TT^'y *° the Holy Mother to

ml^ ^' °' °" *°^«^' ''ho to-moTOw
may be our con. -ors." -""'luw

A moment i of tender fareweU, and he

W^.

298 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

strode from the room with a fsm step and an
ahnost debonair wave of his sombrero.

As Arillo and Mauuel cantered down the
street they noted Don Andreas Pico 'at the
stockade gate, bidding farewell to Benito Willard.
Pico was leading a beautiful white horse, saddled
and bridled.

"My dear friend, Don Benito," Don Andreas
was saying as Don Jos6 Antonio and Manuel, in
response to his beckoning hand, halted at the gate,
"you and your men are now free on parole. We
must take awiy your guards. We are going to
fight Stockton, and we need every man. Here is
the best of my hlancos. On his back you are
perfectly safe. He can outdistance any horse in
California. K I meet death in battle, do you
give him to my brother Pio, who may possibly
return after the war is over."

"Thank you, thank you, Don Andreas," replied
Willard. "Now, my dear friend, do take care of
yourself. With Stockton are some of Fremont's
men of Gillie's company. They are dead shots.
Don Andreas, and you, Don Jos6 Antonio, I beg
of you, do not expose yourselves unnecessarily.
It means certain death."

"I will remember, Don Benito. Thank you,
my friend," replied Arillo gravely.

The emotional soul of Don Andreas was deeply
touched by the earnest solicitude in the American's

THE TERROR OP THE SC/J'PO-.D agg
voice. The teardrops hung heavy on his eye-
ashes, but the whimsical smile timbledL h^
lips as he bantered back: "«»^ied on his

••Bah, no Andreas, y no tnono."i
A horseman whirled up the street, and reined
his horse m front of the group.

••The compliments of Commandant Plores "
he said as he salufj»ri "ti,^ . ^iores,

• vx . , saiutea. The enemy have h«»pn

tTJrl !. J""""*™ fofd- We are to meet
them ttere to-morrow. He urges that you ^
the column at once." '

sJ^of lf7^- "^^^ °" *« silver-chased

'No Andreas, and no monkey.

CHAPTER XXVIII

ii I

TRB DRBAM OF JOSB EL RUFO

JOSE awoke with a start. He was lying on a
pallet of straw, staring at the small square
of a barred window. He remembered now his
midnight conference with Don Jesus Pico, the
alarm at the door, the crash of splintering wood
as it gave way before the musket butts of the
Americans, the arrest of Pico and himself, and
the march through the darlmp.ss to San Luis
Obispo.

The boy drew his hand across his brow, tossing
back the drooping lock of red, and the brooding
melancholy deepened on his face. Forgotten was
the calamitous end of his perilous ride, for with
ever-increasing clearness the strange vision of his
father had again come to him in the night. But
this time, as had never happened before, the
man had risen from the chair, and his lips had
moved in speech.

The tramp of marching feet without, the thud
of muskets on the soft sod, sharp military com-
mands, and the boy, his dream forgotten, rushed
to the window.

A few yards from the old mission of San Luis
Obispo, Fremont's four himdred men were drawn
up in three sides of a hollow square. At the

300

nil

THE DREAM OP JOSE EL RUPO 301

open end stood Angelo. Don Jesus Pico's Indian
servant, his back against a low hill, his hands tied.
Mid a senous, surprised expression on his stoUd

Ten frontiersmen, rifles in hand, stepped out of

fl^'^.^''^ '^^^^ themselves in line in front
of the Indian Their rifles leveled, and as the
officer raised his pword and uttered a quick com-
mand, a simultaneous report rang out

Angelo stiffened, whirled about, and fell forward
on his face.

Jos6, sick at heart, turned away from the
wmdow, and. sobbing bitterly, threw himself on
his face on the cot. In the execution of Angelo
tie had seen his own approaching fate.

"Come, lad," said a rough but not unkindly
voice at the door, "you are wanted now. The
court-martial is about to begin. Keep a stiff
upper hp. Mebbe it wiU come out aU right "

Accompanied by the guard. Jos6 passed along
the rumed portico of the mission and into a large
room. The frontiersman motioned him to a seat
near the door.

Jos6, absorbed in thought, his eyes fixed on the
floor, gave but scant attention to his surroundings
He w^ thinking of his home in the pueblo; of the
veranda where he had been wont to sit with
Manuel and Delfina; of the last day he had seen
tier at the river's edge, the day of the army's

If »1

303 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

return, when with love in her eyes she had ahnost
begged him to return home. And now he was
going to die and he would —

"Jos6 Arillo, stand up."

Jos6 rose to his feet, his eyes still on the floor.

"You are accused of being a spy in the service
of the rebels. Are you guilty or not guilty?"
It was the monotonous official voice of Lieutenant
Somers, who was seated at the head of the table.

Jos6 raised his head and glanced toward the
officers. Suddenly his eyes lit on Somers. A
strange cV *nge came over the boy's countenance.
Vanished ^..stantly was the expression of dread.
Though the unshed tears still glistened on his
lashes, a happy, peaceful smile wreathed his
mouth. For a moment he swayed slightly.
Then with arms bent at the elbows, hands and
fingers relaxed, his head thrust slightly to the
front, he stepped quickly forward, the fixed,
unseeing look of the somnambulist on his face.

Softly, so softly that no one in the room could
hear a sound, he crept on, placing one foot before
the other with the utmost caution.

"Here, lad, you come back! They don't want
you over there," ordered the startled guard.

Jos6 was halfway down the room now, creeping
forward with his slow, noiseless step.

"God a'mighty, look at Somers!" gasped a
frontiersman.

Ill-

THE DREAM OP JOSE EL RUPO 303
ne lieutenant was on his feet, bending forward

TTie room was silent, a silence tense and oppres-
W t^' f^^^^^^r^' ^ stared at the two T^
J0S6 tip oeing forward, steadily, surely E

i"f/' "-^^^^^ Some,., his f^ pale.'iis fo^
o. something mysterious, something uncamiy

For Jc,s6 had seen before him. in the ruddy he.id
of Lieutenant Somers. outlined against the flig
on toe waU. his familiar vision of the night.

th.^^^"'^" ""^'^^ '^^ «"^d- "Look at
them! Them two look as much alike--" A

warnmg touch on the arm struck him silent.

thp'^^hi T 'i^ ""^^^^^ °" Vomers, reached
the table and as his outstretched hands touched
It there bm.t from his lips, in a glad triumpS^t

2'.l^ ^'.T ^^ ^ J°y°^^ «^*^. his one
■bnglish word: "Father!"

Then his figure went limp; his eyes closed. He
tottere , and wo^d have faUen to the floor ha^

IX'J.Z^-^ <^"** '^ -' ^' ^

Tenderly they bore him to his cot. and though
the doctor worked over him for an h^ur, reSd
shstangs and the application of stimol^^^^

304 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

to awaken him. He sank back limp, but on his
curving \if» was a smile of ineffable content.

Through the afternoon and into the night Jos6
slept, a sleep apparently of utter exhaustion.
Hottr af ttT hour in the darkness of the cell Somers
sat and wiiited, his soul torn with hope and fear.

Could this be his son — his little son — the
prattling yotmgster of four with his mother's
gray eyes, the boy whom he had believed dead,
killed fourteen years before in an earthquake in
Valparaiso, Chile? Prom the ruins they had
taken the mangled form of his mother, but no
trace of the child had ever been found. Por
days, for weeks, the broken-hearted man had
haunted the spot, only in the end to relinquish
all hope.

It was nearing midnight. The boy on the
cot sthred restlessly. Somers stole to the bed-
side, and stared down at the motionless figxire.
The moonlight falling aslant through the barred
window fell on the lad's uncovered eyes. He
sighed, and moved his head; hurriedly the man
retreated to the darkness of the comer.

Burning with impatience, he could wait no
longer.

"Boy," he asked softly, "what is your name,
your real name?"

" Jos6 el Rufo, they call me," came from the cot
in sleepy tones, "but I am Jos6 Arillo. My real

THE DREAM OF J0SX2 EL RUFO 305

n«n»«— I— know— not' • The voice trailed away
into sleep.

•'Is Arillo your father?" again came the voice
from the corner.

The boy sat slowly upright, leaning on one arm.

"No; Don Jos6 Antonio is not my father. My
real father— I do not know his name. But I
have seen him often."

In the dreamy monotonous tone of the som-
nambulist, the boy's voice rambled on, telling
the story of his strange dreams, the memories of
his parents, the narrow street where the laden
donkeys went up and down, the sudden night of
terror, his wanderings with the Indians. Sitting
erect on the cot, Jos€ was still dreaming, dreaming
that he was telling the tale to Manuel, as he had
done a thousand times.

A half sigh, half sob came from the comer ; then
a clicking of flint. Somers Ughted the candle,
and waited.

Jos6, his eyes wide open, stared at him. Yes,
he was dreaming again. That was his father,
seated by the candle light, but —it was strange-
there was no table, no flag behind his head.

Rising slowly to his feet, the boy stared at
Somers for a moment. Then he crept stealthily
toward the trembling man. Somers sprang up,
rushed to him, threw his arms about him, and
crushed him to his breast.

*lr

I* A 1 II ,^R-.

ii'
li

ii,
ill

306 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

"My son! My son!" he sobbed.

Jos6, the hypnotic look still on his face, yielded
to the embrace. He was marveling at the strange-
ness of the vision. Never before had dream
been so vivid as this. He placed his hand on the
man's shoulder, and drew back from him a space.

"Art thou — thou — my father?" There was
a world of doubt and awe in his tones. "What is
thy — what is my name ? Who am I ? "

"As God lives, I believe you to be my son.
Your name is Joseph Franklin Somers."

"Joseph — Franklin — Somers," the boy re-
peated incredulously. Then his gaze wandered
around the dim-lit room, at the figure of the man
before him, at his own arms and feet. How real
it all seemed! The troubled, puzzled look came
again to his face. Oh, if he could only know, if
there were some way to know whether or not this
were but another dream !

The boy's arm shot out. Snatching the candle
from the table, he resolutely applied the flame to
the fingers of his other hand.

Somers felt a wild thrill of fear. Had the boy
gone mad? He sprang forward, and wrested the
candle from imder the blackening fingers.

But the small red flame had done its work.
Jose's stinging finger ends had told him that he
was in truth awake.

"Oh!" he shouted boisterously, "it is real! It

,11 ! !

THE DREAM OF JOSE EL RUFO 307

is true! It is no d nmi Fati,?r! My father!
I know you are Jt;a]— real- ,eal!" He was
pounding Somers on ihe shoulder in a wild par-
oxysm of joy. "This time i siiaU not wake— I
shall not wake!"

The candle, faUen to the floor, flickered for a
moment, and died. Somers sat silent in the
darkness, Jos6's face against his cheek, his arms
about his son.

Morning dawned, the morning Don Jesus Pico
was to die. The frontiersmen of Fremont's
command openly exulted in his coming fate. Had
he not broken his parole of honor, bringing war to
a land that was at peace? Had it not been he—
he and his friends— who had caused this weary,
wintry march, a march of shivering nights and
toiling, rain-drenched days? Was he not respon-
sible for the bloodshed at Dominguez and San
Pascual,— he and the others whom Stockton and
Kearney would doubtless hang when they fell
into their hands? It was right and just that
"Tortoi" Pico should die.

Down the corridor of the mission came a veiled
woman, a child in her arms and two others clinging
to her skirts. The guard at the door of Colonel
Fremont's headquarters, half dozing, allowed her
to enter.

Fremont, seated at a table, pen in hand, looked

f'l

308 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

up at the intrusion. He was a spare man, with
sharp, clear-cut features and a ragged beard.
His eyes — wonderful eyes they were, dark and
brilliant, strong and penetrating — stared inquir-
ingly at the visitors.

As he stepped toward them the woman fell to
her knees and threw her arms about his mud-
stained leggings.

"Oh, senor, do not kill him! I beg of you, do
not kill him ! He did not know he was committing
such a crime. He was but ashamed to stay at
home when the other hijos del pais went to fight
for the land. Do not kill him!"

Fremont's brow was wrinkled in perplexity;
his splendid eyes were troubled. The children
joined their shrill voices to their mother's wails.

"Oh, senor," she pleaded "will you make these
little ones fatherless? Oh, have pity, senor, have
pity!"

But there was no sign of relenting in the colonel's
face as he lifted the weeping woman to her feet.

"Seflora," he said in an even voice, " I can make
no promises, nor hold out any false hopes. Go
home and remain there quietly. I will notify you
of my decision, before anything is done."

As Captain Owens, one of Fremont's staff,
closed the door behind them, the colonel drew his
hand across his sweat-bedewed brow.

'God, Owens, this is awful. Sooner would I

t'l

THE D.iEAM OF JOSE EL RUFO 309

meet a thousand of them with arms in their hands
tnan one weeping woman."

Lieutenant Somers entered the room. Thev
both stared at him in wonder. Was this the
somber man at whose melancholy mien they had
marveled smce first they knew Lim? On his
hps was a happy smile, and in his eye a sparkle
as of youth regained.

Fremont walked back and forth across the room
with his quick, nervous step. Only an hour ago
he had received dispatches from Stockton in
Which the commodore expressed a hope of the
capture of Don Jesus Pico.

But the kindly heart of the Pathfinder had
been touched by the sight of the weeping woman
and the clinging r\Udren. And the dispatch
bearer who had s. . " entered their lines in the
night Wis a son o. ^. trusted ofiicer. For him
he had issued a pardon at once.

''Pico's execution is set for ten o'clock, colonel "
said Owens. "It lacks but five minutes no^.
Be lenient, colonel, if it is possible," he pleaded
^ Fremont walked to the window and, his hands
m his pockets, stood motionless for a few moments
gazmg at his men drawn up in readiness for the
execution.

''Brmg Pico to me. Then leave us alone," he
ordered.

The cousin of Don Andreas was a dark, sHght

ilii

310 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

man, with the mien of a bom aristocrat. Though
his face was gray and haggard, he was of the Pico
stock, and there was no sign of flinching in his
steadj gaze as he looked into the eyes of the
Pathfinder.

The American pointed out the window to the
troops on parade, and asked in a harsh tone,

Don Jesus Pico, do you know what that means ? "
"It means"— there was little tremor in Pico's
voice— "that I am about to die."

Through the open window came the careless
laughter of the frontiersmen; then the door
opened and a voice said, "Corporal's guard for
the prisoner, colonel; it is ten o'clock."

Fremont was still staring out the window.
Deathlike was the silence in the room, save for
the nervous tapping of the Pathfinder's fingers
on the window ledge.

Slowly he turned, his eyes agaui meeting Pico's
fairly. He seemed to be waiting.

The bearded hps of .he Califomian trembled
slightly, but he was silent. The pride of the Picos
was his; he could not beg for his life.

"Don Jesus," Fremont said, whimsically, "you
are a brave man; you" are ahnost as brave as you
are lucky in having such a wife. Go thank her—
she has saved you."

First white, then joyous crimson went the
face of Don Jesus. He reeled slightly, then falling

THE DREAM OP JOSE EL RUFO 311

on his knees he crossed his forefingers high above
ins head.

"I was to die." he said, in a voice quivering
with emotion. "I had lost the life God gave me
Jou have given me another. My new life I
devote to you— by this cross I swear it."

.ii

CHAPTER XXIX

AT THE "pASO DE BARTOLO"

AT the ford of the San Gabriel River known
-^^ as the Paso de Bartolo, ten miles from Los
Angeles, the Calif omians were awaiting the coming
of Stockton.

The stream, swollen full and wide by recent
rains, lay below them about five hundred yards
away, both banks fringed by a heavy growth of
underbrush. Beyond the river the road, for the
possession of which Castilian and American were
to battle that fateful 8th of January, 1847, sloped
gently down to the water's edge. On the Cali-
fomian side a bluff swept in a long bow-like curve
away from the stream, inclosing within its curving
arms a little plain. Reappearing at the water's
edge, the trail shot across the crescent-shaped
fiat, and climbed the hill at the middle point
of the curve, exactly in the center of the Cali-
fomian position.

"They are coming, father; I can see them."
Manuel Arillo rose excitedly in his stirrups, and
pointed to a black smudge in the distance.

"Look, father, over there."

Don Jos6 nodded and, sighing deeply, turned
away to speak with an aide of Flores who had
cantered up with orders.

312

AT THE "PASO DE BARTOLO" 313

Steadily, as if on parade, the Americans ad-
vanced down th« long slope. As Olivas, the
couner, had reported, they were aU on foot,
marching in a square, the cattle and the wagons in
the center, the cannon at the comers. Stockton's
attempts to secure mounts for his men had
proved unsuccessful. The strategy of Flores
had swept the land ahnost clear of both horses
and cattle.

Quickly Flores placed his troops m position.
Directly across the road, as it topped the concave
height, were set Arillo's four guns, to the right the
squadron of Don Manuel Gariias, to the left
Don Andreas Pico with his veterans of the San
Pascual campaign. Hugo Vanuela and his com-
pany of Indians were ordered to cross the river
and conceal themselves in the shruboery at the
water's edge.

The slowly moving square, with its center of
tossing homed heads, halted a half-mile from
the stream. From the sides of the square broke
out, in groups of twos and threes, fifty un-
uniformed men. Hastily faUing into a skirmish
hne, ten paces apart, they strode on toward the
nver. Far beyond the range of the escopetas
were they when Vanuela whispered to his
lieutenant. The latter stared his Junazement,
but after a moment's hesitation gave the order
to fire.

k.» *>::.

314 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

The straggling line of bushes by the water burst
into smoke, but not for a moment did the frontiers-
men hesitate. Contemptuously ignoring the esco-
peta bullets, plowing up the sod in front of
them, they swung on in a long, steady stride.
Hurriedly Vanuela and his skirmishers vacated
the shrubbery and retreated across the stream.

On to the water's edge swept Kit Carson and
his men, among them Jim Marshall. Lost to
sight were they for a moment as they broke
through the bushes. Then, wading boldly into
the stream, they pressed on, the current rippling
about their chins, their rifles held high above their
heads.

Halfway across were they when the crash of
the Califomian cannon broke the stiUness. The
surface of the stream, torn with grapeshot,
showered the struggling skirmishers with blinding
spray. But not a man fell. Unfalteringly they
pressed on, dragged themselves out of the stream,
and took cover under a wave-bitten bank close
to the water's edge.

"Por Dios, but that was magnificent," mur-
mured Don Augustin, as he dipped into his snuff-
box. "Ah," he sighed, "that their commander
were as generous as his men are brave!"

From the bank below, the rifles of the frontiers-
men were popping iiTegularly, but without effect.
Knowing well their deadly marksmanship, Flores

AT THE "PASO DE BARTOLO" 315

had not been taken unawares. Even before the
hne had scrambled out of the water, the CaU-
fornian cannon had been withdrawn a few yards,
while the mounted squadrons retreated from the
edge of the bluff, till even the heads of the horses
were hidden by the curve of the hill.

From beyond the river came a reverberating
roar. Two of Stockton's cannon at the edge of
the stream were thundering out a response to
Anllos fire. A few yards up the slope the
square waited. The skirmishers, lying on the
sandy beach beneath the bank, could hear above
them the shrill screech of the missiles as the CaU-
fomian guns boomed back de^antly.

Marshall grinned as he noted the Califomian
grapeshot falling into the water with a plumpine
soimd. *

"Notkickenoughtothemcannon. Notenough
powder," he commented to Kit Carson, lying on
the sand beside him. "Jehosophat. but Arillo is
doing poor shooting. He did better than that
at Dominguez."

Confusion and hesitation were apparent among
the Americans on the far bank. Their cannonade
had ceased, though the enemy's guns were still
boommg. General Kearney, his face grave with
apprehension, strode over to Stockton.

"Theriverbedisfull of quicksand, commodore"
he announced. '

[««t>

316 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

"Damn the quicksand I Go ahead! Carson's
men did it," Stockton snapped back.

In a moment the water was full of struggling
men, tugging at the cannon ropes, stopping
every now and then to wrest their feet from the
clutching sands or to assist a sinking comrade.

Over them roared the artillery duel. Arillo
was getting the range. Many of his shots were
dropping among the confused mass of toiling,
urtif-submerged Americans; but they seemed
strangely ineffectual. Here and there a sailor,
bruised or stunned by the grapeshot, was carried
senseless to the b'*>k or laid on a oaggage cart.
The two othei .'rierican guns, still roaring
from the bank, were firing as many shots as
Arillo's four.

Near to Arillo's battery Hugo Vanuela, leaning
en his saddle, was watching curiously the effect
of the Califomian fire. The near half of the
stream, whipped into a cloud of foam at every
discharge, told that most of the shots were falling
short. Hugo grinned complacently. The powder
was fulfilling all his expectations for inefficiency.
Well, indeed, had he done his work in the few
short moments after his bloody knife had sent
Eugene MacNamara to meet his God. The
Americans, he meditated, could refuse him nothing
when, in the days to come, they learned the truth.
With an earth-shaking roar, the six American

AT THE "PASO DE ByiRTOLO" 3,7
guns now safely across the river, thundered out

Tk'S'^u'^^- Th« ^°«^ o^ the gun crew on
the blufl above tumbled over in a bleeding heap.

s^h'. /.-'^^ Califomians cut the riata; and.
substituting other horses, whisked their cannon

ovnd ^^ ^^^ ^^ ""^"^ ^^ ^^^ ^ ^®

The cattle, bellowing in terror and urged on by
the shouting Americans, were slowly drawing out
of the water. Still stuck in the middle of the river
were the baggage wagons, around them a group
of shouting, excited sailors.

Arillo's cannon, reloaded, were again shot for-
ward to the edge of the incline. At the brink of
the stream Stockton himself, just emerging from
the water, glanced up and caught sight of them.

Stand aside," he ordered the marine. Bending
ov-- the piece, the commodore sighted it and
^Pi....a the linstock. Into a thousand splinters

the bluff ; the gun itself reared wildly on end. and
then tumbled helplessly to the ground.

By the water's edge all was confusion and
disarray. To hold the wild range cattle in a
compact mass and to reform the square about
them was no easy task. Amidst the roars of the
frenzied beasts, the ineffectual popping of the rifles,
the shouts of the excited saUors. moved Lieuten-
ant John Carroll. With Captain GiUie, he was

3i8 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

busily engaged in reducing the confused mass to
a semblance of order. Slowly the cattle were
being urged out on the level flat; little by little
the sailors were forming in line about them.

The lieutenant glanced up at the top of the
bluff. Above the curve of the hill suddenly
appeared a row of horses' heads.

"Captain," he shouted to Gillie, his voice
rising above the tumult, "they are going to
charge!"

Down the slope raced the whole of Pico's
squadron. They paused for a moment well out
of rifle range, their lances leveled. Then with
a wild yell they dashed on the half-formed side
of the square.

"Hold your fire, men, — keep cool! Line up!
Line up!" shouted Gillie, as men came running
from all parts of the field to fill the gaps in the
' anks.

On came the indomitable Pico at a furious
gallop, his front a solid mass of tossing manes and
bristling lance points.

"Fire!" shouted Gillie.

But the volley from the broken line was scatter-
ing and tmcertain.

Through the smoke in front of Carroll broke a
dozen rearing horses, full on the bayonets of the
sailors. Thnisting upward, he drove his sword
into the neck of a horse whose bent forelegs hung

AT THE "PASO DE BARTOLO" 319

menacingly above him, and sprang aside to escape
being crushed by the falling animal. On either
side of him a dozen Califomians, their bodies
swung low behind their horses, were jabbing
viciously at the Americans. Lance shaft was
clashing on bayonet and musket barrel. Another
dying horse, pierced by a dozen bayonets, pitched
sidewise full into the ranks of the sailors. Through
the shrouding smoke the lieutenant saw the line
sway, waver for a moment, and then spring back
to place.

Suddenly the bugle blared from the heights
above. The dim-seen forms of mounted men in
front of them melted away. As the smoke cleared,
the Califomians, in straggling groups, could be
seen retreating up the bluff. The charge had failed.

Flores had ordered the bugle to sound the
retreat. Looking down through the clinging
smoke, he knew that the attack was a failure
even before those engaged were aware of it. No
more than fifty of Pico's horsemen had reached
the American line. Many were yet yards away,
still struggling madly with their excited mounts,'
crazed by the roar of the rifle fire. Others, whose
horses had fallen in the deadly volley from the
ranks, were hurriedly dragging their saddles from
their slaughtered mounts. Many wounded men
were clingmg weakly to the stirrups of their
comrades.

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320 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

The Americans were cheering deliriously, the
hoarse, throaty shout of the Anglo-Saxon. They
had met a Califomian charge led by the dashing
Pico himself, and repelled it.

Gathering his officers about him, Commandant
Flores gave orders for a general assault — a final
efifort that would decide the day.

"Don Manuel, you take them on the left;
Don Andreas, on the right, as before; Captain
Vanuela, you will charge with your company
directly down the road."

There was no confusion now among the Amer-
icans. The steel-tipped square was advancing
slowly, step by step, across the little flat, along
the road toward the very center of the Califomian
position. Every man was in place, every piece
primed and loaded.

Like two wide, encircling arms, the squadrons
of Garfias and Pico crept slowly down the slopes
on the right and left. As they reached the level
groimd their pace increased to a trot. Vanuela
whispered to his lieutenant, who went quietly to
the rear of the company. Francisco Cota, the
Mexican flag over his shoitlder, trotted up and
took his place by Vanuela's side at the head of
the colmnn.

The square had halted. All of the six guns
had been whirled about, and their gaping mtizzles
were pointed full on Vanuela's company. The

AT THE "PASO DE BARTOLO" 321

gunners, linstock in hand, stood awaiting tLd word
of command.

With reckless bravery, Cota dashed down the
slope, waving the flag above his head. "Come
on, muchachos!" he shouted.

Suddenly he reined his horse. His ear missed
the sound of hoofbeats behind him. Turning his
head, he was amazed to find that he was alone,
that Vanuela's company had halted halfway
down the slope. For a moment he hesitated,
then trotted back up the trail, indignant surprise
showing in his face as he stared inquiringly at
Hugo.

Below, on the flat, the commands of Pico and
Garfias had halted ir their mad career. The
officers, catching sight of the retreating colors,
hesitated; but a few horsemen dashed on. Others
held back, shouting warnings. Their formation
was lost, the fronts of both lines thrown into
confusion.

At that moment the leveled rifles on both sides
of the square again volleyed smoke and flame.
But the range was far, the marksmanship of the
sailors bad. Puzzled and disheartened at the
apparent change iii their commander's plans,
the two squadrons of cavalry scrambled back to
the top of the bluflf.

"Why didst thou turn back, Chito?" inquired
Plores.

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322 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

: K

"I but ttimed to see why the company was not
advancing," Cota replied with proud dignity.
Again he stared at Vanuela meaningly.

"Do not misunderstand, Chito," said Flores.
"No one doubts thy courage. Why did you not
advance, Sefior Vanuela?" he demanded of Hugo.

Vanuela shrugged his shoulders.

"For fifty men," he responded coolly, "to
charge with lances a square where six loaded
cannon awaited them would not be war; it would
be murder or suicide, which you will. Yet would
I have charged the square as soon as the cannon
were fired, and Pico and Garfias had struck the
line. Then in the confusion my men would
have been of assistance. That the sqimdrons
did not charge is not my fault."

No time was there for further recrimination or
explanation. The battle had been lost almost by
default. The Califomians had failed to take
advantage of the crucial moment. Already the
square was moving in its deliberate way up the
slope of the bluflf.

Hurriedly the Califomians withdrew their gims
and trailed across the plain to the foot of the
hills, where they made camp in full sight of the
enemy. But two Califomians and one American
had given their lives in the day's engagement,
while eight wounded sailors lay groaning on
Stockton's baggage wagons.

AT THE "PASO DE BARTOLO" 323

Slowly the sun sank in a blaze of molten glory.
From Stockton's camp on the edge of the bluff,
above the river, came a burst of throbbing music.
The military band was playing the "Star-Spangled
Banner."

With strangely mingled emotions the Cali-
fomians, ever lovers of melody, listened to the
thrilling measures floating to them through the
deepening dusk. Though the triumphant strains
proclaimed their own disheartening defeat, jveiy
horseman, sitting attentive and motionless in his
saddle, was gravely appreciative.

"Por Dios, but that is beautiful— beautiful,"
murmiu^ Servolo Palera. "It is also a song;
I have heard Gillie's men sing it in the pueblo
last siunmer. Knowest thou its title, Don
Augustin?"

"Yes," responded Alvaro with a little sigh.
' 'Juan Carroll has told me of it. It is the war song
of the Americans. It is called," he hesitated as
if seeking for the proper words, "it is called, 'the
flag with the bright stars scattered over it.'"

Servolo was silent for a moment. In his
somber eyes was a strange, tmearthly light, as
of one looking down a long vista of years.

"Dios de mi alma," he sighed, "perhaps it
may be in the distant days to come that our
children's children, forgetful of us, may sing it as
their very own."

324 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

The music ended. The American bugle blew
"taps." Over the wide, rolling plain, the river
gorge, the low-ljring hills, darkness lowered.
Palera, riding on the picket line between the two
forces, noted the American camp fires breaking
out one by one on the edge of the river bluflf.
From the heights a mile away the quivering points
of flame that marked the Califomian camp
twinkled back in cheery response.

Servolo was alone in the shrouding HarVtifiji^s of
the plain. Seated in his saddle, he reverently
bare( ids head, and gaied up at the star-lit infinity.

"Mtjy, Mother of Sorrows," he prayed, **ask
thy Son to take me to Himself, if I be worthy. I
care not to live — my country conquered, my
heart dead within, my friend Ignacio gone before.
Oh, Father, if it be Thy will, let me go to him and
to Thee. My soul is shriven. I am ready to
die."

CHAPTER XXX

THB LAST STAND OP THE CABALLERO

'pHROUGH the morning mist rippled the
•*■ reveiUe from Stockton's bugles. The sailors
and frontiersmen, chilled and grumbling, crept
from their dew-soaked blankets and hastily
snatched u scanty meal.

Before the sun had lifted above the eastern
hills, the square was again moving steadily on
toward Los Angeles. Slow and weary was the
progress of the httle army, their pace set by the
lean and hungry cattle, but little refreshed by
their night's foraging. Around the command,
as it crept on at a snail's pace over the level,
treeless plain, hovered groups of mounted Cali-
fomians, well out of rifle range. The main body
of the enemy was nowhere in sight.

As the sun climbed higher, its cheering rays
drying the clothing and warming the chilled
bodies of the men, their good humor returned and
they begmled the tedium of the march with jest
and laughter. They were in high spirits. Yester-
day they had beaten the enemy, and taken full
revenge for San Pascual. To-night the rebellious
pueblo of Our Lady, Queen of the Angels would be
theirs.

The afternoon was well advanced before the

325

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326 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

white walls of the town, set low in the green
stretch of river bottom, lifted into view. The
sailors in the square, three deep around the
cattle and the wagons, were gazing curiously at
the end of their long march when Jim Marshall,
who had been marchmg with the skirmishers some
distance ahead of the command, hurried back.

"The enemy is in sight, sir," he announced to
Stockton, "over there to the right in a hollow."

"Give orders to load with ball and three
buckshot," the commodore commanded. For a
few moments the square halted until muskets
and rifles were charged

Lieutenant Carroll, on the right of the column,
turned his glass toward the sycamores in the
hollow. He could see the entire Califomian force
ranged in a semicircle, facing a mounted officer,
who, sombrero in hand, was addressing them
vigorously. Softened by distance, the speaker's
voice came to the Americans as a low murmur.

"That's Plores, I suppose," remarked Stockton,
as he handed the glass to GiUie. "He is trying
to stir them up to make another stand after
their drubbing yesterday at the river. We will
march right on. We are not going to chase him,
much as he would like it. We are going right
on to the pueblo."

"No," responded Gillie, the glass still at his
eye, "that is not Plores; it is some one else."

LAST STAND OP THE CABALLERO 327

The captain was right. The orator who, with
graceful gestures and impassioned words, was
speaking to the listening Califomians was Servolo
Palera. To the disheartened men he was making
an appeal for a final effort.
^ "Men, brothers, Califomians," he was saying,
"yesterday for two long hours you fought the
enemy, believing them to be soldiers. To-day
we know them to be but sailors.

"Yesterday, you with your few guns and
miserable powder held them in check at the river
for two hours. To-day we will face them on the
level mesa, where, in one mighty charge, we can
break their lines and have them at the mercy of
our lances. Four times already have you met
them ; three times have you defeated them. How
can you hesitate?

"Men of Spanish blood, remember the deeds
of your fathers. Make not their spirits, who are
even now looking down upon us from their home
above, ashamed of their sons.

"Think, brothers, of the days to come. Shall
the tale be told that we, four hundred strong,
waited idly here while the Americans, no greater
in numbers, without horses, marched unharmed
and imhindered into our beloved pueblo?

"We shall win. God is with us. Let us crush
them, and capture Commodore Stockton. Never
shall the tale be told to our children's children

3a8 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

that we, their fathers, failed—failed them at the
last. Por the sake of the weeping women yonder
in the pueblo, for this land your fathers won by the
sword, for the soil that holds their sacred bonos,
for your tongue, for your faith, — in God's name,
strike but one more blow. Whether life or
death, victory or defeat await us on yonder
plain, let us do our duty like men.

"Sing, friends, sing!" He threw up his arms,
wide apart, and his rich tenor voice broke forth :

"Our pulses thnll at the wondrous tale
Of their deeds in the days of old.
Oh! can it be our cheeks grow pale.
Our hearts grow weak and cold?

" Shall strangers rule our fathers' land,
In sorrow, grief, and pain?
Oh ! face once more their robber band,
Ye Sons of Ancient Spain."

Every sombrero was raised wildly aloft; every
lance shaft waved frantically; from every Cali-
fomian throat came a yell of defiance. Moved
by the pathetic wistfulness in his somber, youthful
face, thrilled by his impassioned words, touched to
the heart by his appeal to their pride of race, their
momentary depression vanished and they threw
their voices full pitched into the chorus.

"There's that same old song," commented
Gillie as the distant rhythm of the singing drifted
across the plain. "Some kind of hymn, I sup-
pose."

LAST STAND OP THE CABALLERO 329

Lieutenant Carroll, trudging by his side, made
no answer. His face was drawn and tired, his
heart anxious; he dreaded the events of the
morrow. Fondly had he hoped that yesterday's
skirmish at the river had marked the end of
hostilities, but again he was to face in a death
struggle the men whose nobility of soul had
compelled his admiration.

But the soldier in him brought him up with a
sharp turn. He must remember that the Cali-
fomians were his enemies, the enemies of his
country. Arillo his enemy, Servolo his enemy,
Alvaro his enemy? He sighed wearily.

Marshall, at his elbow, looked at his friend
sjrmpathetically.

"Tired, lieutenant?"

*'No, Jim, just thinking."

"Now, lieutenant," whispered Marshall, "jest
you quit worryin*. The commodore ain't goin*
to do no hangin* business. If he tries it. General
Kearney won't let him. Them two has been
fightin' ever since we left San Diego. When
generals fight, plain folks get their dues."

"Jim. Jim," warned Carroll, "you mustn't
talk about that."

"All right, lieutenant, all right. Jehosophat,"
he went on in a still lower tone, "but this is the
finest country! Do you know, it seems to me
that the sunny, summer morning that the Lord

330 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

made California he didn't do anjrthing else that
day but jest lie around feeling good over it? As
soon as ever I Idn git out of the army I am goirt'
to buy me that rancho and that white hoss I was
tellin* you about. I got the coin right over in
the pueblo, all right."

In spite of his somber thoughts, Carroll was
amused. Marshall was generally a truthful man,
save when he touched upon the one matter of his
wealth; then he overflowed with braggadocio.
Jim had never shown any great wealth of coin.

"When we onct gets settled down in the
pueblo," he continued, "I got the dingdest piece
of news, something no one but Jim Marshall
knows, to tell you. But when the time comes
I '11 send it richochetting around the world. But
no one but you and me's goin* to know it till it
is a dead sure thing that this country belongs to
Uncle Sam, then — "

His voice was drowned in the roar of the
Califomian cannon from the brink of the de-
pression.

Their aim was good. A mule attachtjd to one
of the field pieces at the forward comer of the
square, shot throt ,h the body, was struggling
frantically, throwing the other animals into the
wildest confusion. Another ball of white in the
hollow, and a sailor near Marshall, badly woimded,
pitched sidewise xmder the crowding feet of the

LAST STAND OP THE CABALLERO 331

cattln. For a few moments the square halted
while the mule was exchanged and the dying
sailor placed on one of the carts. Then the
stubborn, plodding march was resumed. The
lesson of San Pascual had not been lost on Com-
modore Stockton; nothing would tempt him to
abandon his square formation or falter in his
march on the pueblo.

Out of the hollow whirled two of the enemy's
cannon, bounding along at the ends of the riatas.
They took up a position directly across the
American line of march.

"That's Don Jos6 Antonio—there in front,"
said Marshall, "there on the big bay horse."

The guns left in the hollow roared again, but
the shot went screeching harmlessly over the heads
of the Americans. Then Arillo's guns in front
joined in the tumult. One of the round shot,
skipping along the ground, rebounded into the
square, knocking down several men. They stag-
gered to their feet, bruised and breathless, and
dazed with astonishment to find themselves still
alive.

"Cheer up, Hans," remarked Marshall, as he
helped one of them into a cart, "you have no hurt
but a few broken ribs. It takes more than a
little thing like a cannon ball to kill a Dutchman.
You have to prove it to a Dutchman he is dead
before he will die."

1 1

,iii

33a THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

Stubbornly the square plodded on, the men
frcttmg and fuming. Were they to creep along
all day, a target for the cannon of the enemy?
Under the strain of the artillery fire, they were
becoming nervous and apprehensive

The guns in the hollow, one of them the
howitzer captured from Ktiarrey at San Pascual,
did better the next sho:;. A wild commotion'
among the cattle, and a shriek of agony from the
far side of the square, told that the enemy again
had the r nge.
"Halt!" the command ran around the square.
ickly the forward American guns were
♦jiaiunbcred, turned on the depression, and roared
forth their response, the thunder of their reports
mingling with the sharper boom of Arillo's cannon
in front. When the smoke had cleared away, the
guns at the brink of the hollow and their defenders
had disappeared.

The cannon returned to their place at the
forward comers of the square, and the Americans
resumed their slow march. Out of the hoUow
rode the entire body of the Califomians. Describ-
ing a wide curve well out of range of the American
rifles, they took up a position in front of Arillo's
battery, directly across the road leading to the
pueblo. There was no mistaking the meaning of
the maneuver; the artillery duel was to become
a pitched battle.

LAST STAND OP Tiro CABALLERO 333

The Americans broke into a cheer, the heavy
hurrah of the sailors mingling with the sharp
Indian-like yeUs of the frontiersmen. Gleefully
they looked to the priming of their pieces. The
enemy was going to fight— a real "stand uo"
fight. ^

Along tJie front of the Califomian line officers
were galloping, shoutmg sharp commands as they
placed their men in position. A short distance
behind them, a body of vaquex-os led several hun-
dred extra horses.

Never again will the blue California sky look
down upon such a scene as that of the afternoon
of that ever-to-be-remembered day of January
9, 1847. It was a spectacle, magnificent, majestic,
thrilling, of its kind the last on the west coast of
North America.

olowly, at a walk, the line of horsemen advanced,
above them a forest of slender lance shafts, tipped
with gaudy pennons. Here and there fluttere.^l
flags of gorgeous hues— flags woven by the
fingers of the devoted women of the pueblo.
Sharply glittered the rays of the declining sun on
the naked sword blades of the officers, the steel of
the lance points, the silver mountings of saddle,
bit, and bridle.

Brilliant with the gay colors of the gaudy
scrapes, undulating with the tossing manes of the
mettlesome horses, the whole line palpitated with
S3

-S.I

Iv*

'c^.i:!-.-?-

334 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

life and motion. They werv? singing wild and
shrill the war song of Palera, their voices mingling
with the tinkle of the many guitars, and the
stirring strains of the bugles.

More than one brave heart beneath the proudly
fluttering pennons knew full well the hopelessness
of their cause, knew that not only defeat but
perchance the disgraceful death of a felon awaited
them at the hands of their foes. But there was
no flinching and no faltering.

The spirit of the ancient Roman, the spirit of
the conquering Goth, the spirit that after seven
hundred years of struggle had driven the Moor
back to his African hills, the spirit of the con-
quistadores of Cort^z was theirs. The gods of war
might have abandoned them, but in this, the
last stand of the caballero, naught would there be
lacking of the proud panoply of martial array.
If fate had so willed that they must go down to
defeat, they would go with flags proudly afloat,
with a song and a smile on their lips, with the
unbending dignity of their race.

"Jehosophat," remarked Marshall, as the
Americans waited in silence, "if that doesn't
remind me of a circus parade back in old New
Jersey.'*

Flores, riding in front of the Califomians,
threw up his hand. The advancing line broke
in the center, each half describing a wide curve to

LAST STAND OF THE CABALLERO 335

the right and left. As they swung around, their
pace quickened to a trot. The singing ceased,
and with a piercing, simultaneous yell down
came the lances, and the two divisions charged,
full tilt, both sides of the square.

Against the charging squadrons burst the
thundering crash of musketry. Both sides of the
square bristled with living streaks of fire. The
sky, the plain, the distant hills, the oncoming
wave of horsemen were blotted out by the billow-
ing smoke.

On the Califomian side on. man drew out of
the smoke cloud and with a grim smile listened
to the roar of battle. He. and he alone, knew why,
on that broad mesa by the Pueblo of the Angels,'
a thousand men, with the lust of killing hot in
their hearts, were seeking one another's lives. It
was the work of his cunning brain. He, and he
alone, was the war maker.

Slowly the smoke cleared. The entire front of
the Califomian line was in confusion, a mass of
struggling, wounded horses whose agonizing
screams echoed over the plain. CarroU, peering
through the hngering smoke, noted that not a
smgle one of the enemy lay on the ground, though
scores of wounded men were clinging weakly to
the saddles of their more fortunate comrades.

"Say, lieutenant," commented Marshall, as
he drove home the ramrod in his rifle, "did ye

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336 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

i i

i i.

I ;

notice that? Jest before the order came to fire,
every one of them fellahs, when they saw our
guns go up, squeezed down flat behind their
bosses' necks. Jehosophat, but this is the ding-
dest battle, — nuthin' to shoot at but bosses."

The Califomians were retreating, but not in
haste. Slowly, beyond rifle range, they were
reforming their fronts. But one lone horseman
lingered near the American line, walking his
horse slowly away, two wounded men clinging to
his stirrups. '

' ' Shaaie ! Shame ! " shouted Marshall. ' ' That's
what I call a dirty trick." His remarks were
addressed to one of the sailors, who had covered
with his musket the retreating figure of Don Jos6
Antonio Arillo. Others of the frontiersmen echoed
Marshall's protest, and the sailor, abashed, low-
ered his weapon.

The waiting vaqueros had galloped up with the
extra motmts; the Califomians of both wings had
again formed in two squadrons. Again their
bugles sounded the charge.

Back they came with lances lowered, the plain
thtmdering under their galloping steeds. Mid-
way in their mad career they fired a volley from
their escopetas. As Carroll gave the order to
fire, he saw Captain Gillie reel backward, his hand
to his face.

Again the volley roared from the American

LAST STAND OF THE CABALLERO 337

ranks, and the smoke hid the rushing line of horse-
men. While it hung idly in the air, the square,
now a triple line of glistening bayonets, waited
to impale the oncoming foe. But through the
smoky wall came no threatening lance points, no
looming forms of men and horses, but shouts of
dismay and cries of pain and anguish. The
Calif omian charge had again been halted midway
by the withering fire from the American ranks.

The lieutenant rushed to Captain Gillie's
assistance. He was leaning against a cart, his
face white and dazed and his forehead bleeding.
Quickly Carroll xriped the blood from the wound,
and to his amazement and relief noted that it was
nothing more than a severe bruise.

"A spent ball, captain — nothing worse," he
commented. Yet the shock had knocked Gillie
almost senseless.

The front of the enemy's line was a tangle of
wounded men k d pltmging, rearing horses. The
latter, their chests torn by musket balls, were
screaming in agony. The ground round about
was dotted with figures, crawling painfully away
from the American line. Riderless horses were
everywhere.

"Lord, look at the empty saddles I" shouted a
marine, exultantly.

"Look a little closer, boy," commented Mar-
shall, "an' ye '11 see a heel stickin* over the top of

^^^

t a

338 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

the saddle and a fist hangin' to the pommeL
Them greasers," he added, "are the best hossmen
in the hull darn world. There's a hundred or
two of them out there, hangin' by their eyelashes
an* the skin of their teeth to the t' other side of
their beasts."

"Bring the guns into action," shouted Com-
modore Stockton.

The six guns which had been held in readiness
were turned toward the enemy.

Again the Califoniians were advancing. With
a long-drawn yell that had in it a note of despair,
the cavahy for the third time swooped on the
square from both sides. Hardly twenty yards
away were they when the muskets again thundered
smoke and flame, and while the echoes of the
volley were still ringing in the ear, the cannon
poured its deadly fire into the wavering ranks.

John Carroll waited with agonized heart. At
the very moment he had given the order to fire,
he had recognized Don Jos6 Antonio in the front
rank of the charge. Through the gray reek in
front of him he saw a stimibling horse, a wavering
lance point, then a dismounted, tottering man.
Quickly a pistol beside him spoke, and the Cali-
fomian threw up his hands and reeled backward.
Carroll's heart sickened.

Disregarding the warning cries of his men, he
broke through the rjmks and rushed toward the

LAST STAND OF THE CABALLERO

corpse. It was the

339

I young officer who had escorted
him to the lonely adobe the night of his escape
from the pueblo.

On the plain horses lay dead in rows where they
had fallen before the withering vollejrs from the
square. Though scores of the enemy were
wounded, many seriously, by the flying buckshot
and bullets, yet but one lay dead. Only the
matchless horsemanship and protective tactics of
the Califomians had saved them from wholesale
slaughter. With half of their force unmounted,
their powder exhausted, their cannon and esco^
petas useless, to attempt another charge would
have been sheer madness.

The test had been conclusive. Against a well-
armed, well-drilled, well-equipped square of in-
fantry, three deep, no cavalry, however fiery and
chivah-ous, could successfully contend. Among

the Americans four had lost their lives, while

seven lay dying on the ox carts.
As John Carroll turned his glass on the Cali-

fomian column, now slowly disappearing toward

the hills, his heart throbbed with thankfulness.

He could distinguish, riding in the rear, the

figure of Arillo, his princely head bowed low in

deep dejection.
Between the victorious Americans and the

rebellious city there was not an armed man.

The bugle sang the order to march.

ih If

t -

340 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

The pueblo of Our Lady, Queen of the Angels,
and aU therein, lay at the mercy of Commodore
Stockton.

The Sons of Ancient Spain had made their last
stand.

<»!

CHAPTER XXXI

"SHB SHALL PRAY FOR YOUR DEATH"

'pO the wan-eyed girl at the lattice comes the
* shriU scream of the fife, the throb of the drum
the measured tread of marching men. Par down
the street, in the gray of the evening, a gleam of
blue, a flicker of red, and the rising murmur of
many voices; the pueblo is again in the hands
of the hated invader.

Contemptuously indifferent to the curses and
STOwls of the stragglers on the street, unheeding
the yells of execration from the handful of va-
queros on the hiU above the church, slowly,
st^y, the column pushes on toward the plaza'

Suddenly a shot rings out, a buUet whizzes
viaously above the heads of the Americans —
some drunken fool on the hiU has discharged his
piece.

Short, shouted orders, the squads of fours
merge mto long double lines, the musket barrels
slope upward. A stalwart figure,— oh, so familiar
to the watcher at the window.— raises his saber
and the plaza shivers with the shock of the
volley. On the hiUtop three tumble sprawling
from then- horses; the others scamper madly away

Past her window in the gathering dusk, like

341

. r;

34a THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

some mad phantasmagoria, sweep the serried
ranks, among them John CarroU, his naked
weapon stiU in his hand, his face thin and haggard
lus eyes set straight ahead. With a choking sob
the girl turns away.

To Loreto Arillo, her lover has come again-
come with fire and sword, his hands red with the
blood of her people.

In the home of Dofia Chonita, now the head-
quarters of the American officers, John CarroU
stood before a table where sat Commodore Stock-
ton and General Kearney. The commodore had
sent for him.

'•Lieutenant Carroll," he began, "Captain
CrtUie tells me that you know the country well
about here-— the country to the north."

"I rode over it many times last summer-sev-
eral times as far as the foothills," repKed Carroll.

"Flores," Stockton continued, "is probably
hunying toward the mountains, though it is
possible that he may attempt to escaps to Mexico
through Sonora. Colonel Fremont is somewhere
north of the pueblo. By this time he must have
received the dispatch sent to him two weeks ago
by Captain Hensekj, . He will be on the lookout
for Plores."

The commodore ran his finger over a map on the
table; then after a moment's thought he continued:

SHE SHALL PRAY FOR YOUR DEATH 343
"Fremont must now be weU past the Verdugo
HiUs. He wiU probably pass between them and
the mountains, hoping to cut oflf the enemy's
retreat.

"For the deluded rank and file of the CaU-
formans." Stockton went on, fixing his large, bold
eyes on the Ueutenant's troubled face, "I have
much S3^pathy and respect, but not for their
leaders, Arillo, Flores, Pico, Alvaro, Garfias, and
DelaGuerra. For breaking their paroles they
deserve a drumhead court-marital. They are weU
aware of this, and may possibly take to the

mountams and inaugurate guerrilla warfare. But
there is a possibihty that they may meet with
Fremont and surrender to him. I wish the
colonel to know that these six men are not to be
mcluded m the terms of capitulation. I am not
domg them any injustice. On this matter I
have had private and reliable information that it
was they and they alone who are responsible for
the revolt and the bloodshed at Dominguez and
oan Pascual."

The commodore was speaking the truth His
secret informant was none other than Hugo
vanuela, whose communications had sti^ngthened
his determmation to wreak upon the Dons the
fullest vengeance of military law,

••I think it weU that you should know the intent
and purposes of these dispatches which you are

St.

344 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

to carry to Colonel Fremont," he explained, as he
banded him the papers.

"Ride well to the east of the Verdugo Hills,
lieutenant," Stockton repeated. "Keep a sharp
lookout for the enemy, and lose no time. Within
an hour you must be on your way. I wish
my instructions to reach Fremont before he grants
any concessions to the men I have mentioned.
He may do so innocently unless warned in time.
Good luck go with you," he added, as he shook
Carroll's hand.

Swinging himself into the saddle from the
veranda, the lieutenant trotted out into the plaza.
Torturing memories wrung him as he walked his
horse slowly through the darkness toward the
Arillo home. Bitter-sweet, the pictures of the
past marshaled themselves before him in swift
array, — the night (it seemed years ago) that on
this very spot he had felt the soft form oi Loreto
Arillo clinging to him — had seen the light in her
eyes that had sent the blood tingling through his
veins. And now in the few moments left to him
he was going to her. Come what might, whether
he was to be met with contemptuous scorn or
forgiving tenderness, once more, possibly for the
last time, he would look into those glorious ^es,
whatever of sorrow or grief or pain the futttfe
might bring.

A movement in the spot of dmaer black under

SHE SHALL PRAY FOR YOUR DEATH 345

the veranda, a patter of feet, the swish of a
woman's garment, and he felt hands dinging to
his stirrup leather.

"Juan," came a whisper through the darkness.

He was looking down into the eyes of Loreto
Arillo, upraised to meet his.

Forgotten the dispatches, forgotten the impera-
tive necessity of haste, forgotten everything save
that here, within reach of his arms, was the
woman he loved. He leaped from his horse and
gathered her to him, kis^g her rapturously on
lips and hair. From her came neither response
nor protest as she leaned heavily against him.

"Mi querida, I came as quickly as I could and—
I must go in a few moments. I carry papers" —
he hesitated for a moment— "to the north."

The girl started, and drew away from him.

"Oh, thou — thou — thou — " she gasped as
with straightened arm she held him at a distance.
"Thou ridest to Fremont with papers from
Stockton— the cruel Stockton— to warn Fremont
to show no mercy. Mercy of God, my Juan, can
it be so?"

In his silence she saw the confirmation of her
fears.

For that afternoon, with the roar of the cannon
on the mesa still ringing in her ears, she had heard
one of the oldest men of the pueblo comforting
her mother with the assurance that two possible

346 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

tvwiues <rf escape lay open to her father and his
friends. They might secure favorable terms of
capitulation from Premont, now advancing south-
ward, or they might escape to Mexico. But now
the last faint hope was to be destroyed. Warned
of Stockton's attitude toward thr Dons, Premont
could show no mercy, and with his weU-equipped
cavahy he would swoop down upon them as an
eagle strikes ite defenseless prey.

"Holy Mother," she moaned as her head
dropped on his shoulder, "thou art to be my
father's messenger of death I"

The tortured, suffering man was silent. Raising
her head, the girl drew quietly away from him.

"Come within the house." Her tone was cahn
and deliberate. "It is not fitting that we sliould
stand without by the veranda, even if it be dark.
Come, Juan— for but a moment. It may be the
last time for us," she added meaningly.

As he entered the long, low living room he noted
Seiiora Arillo kneeling at a table, her head on her
arms, absorbed in silent grief. She had been
praying; her beads were still clasped in her hands,
hands on which the teardrops glistened in the
candle light. At their entrance she raised her
head and stared at them half stupidly, without
word of welcome.

But Loreto had no thought for her mother.
Passing her fingers deftly over the front of Carroll's

SHE SHALL PRAY FOR YOUR DEATH 347

jacket, she felt within the crunch of papers. Then
desperation showing in her face and eyes, sh« ihre^
herself upon him and pressed her ripe reJ lips to
his passionately. *^

"Juan, Juan, thou lovest me— is it not so?"
"God knows I do, Loreto."
"To-night, then, thou wilt i.rove it to me "
There was eager triumph in i;er voice. Vfer
silken cheek lay against his; her breath was hot on
his neck. Against his breast he could feel the
rounded outlines of her bosom.

"If thou lovest me~then give me the papers
Give them to me. But little hope is there from
Fremont. He is cruel ; by him were the Berryessa
boys and their uncle shot to death, and Don Jesus
i^ico at San Luis Obispo, yet what little hope
there may be the coming of thy papers will kill.
Oh, Juan, Juan, give me the papers!"

Her hands were fumbling at the buttons of his
jacket.

The man groaned.

"I cannot, Loreto, I cannot. Little thou
knowest what thou asketh. I cannot. God help
me-~God help us both." he moaned, as he grasped
the hands that were nowreachingfor the dispatches

Sefiora Arillo, still on her knees, was staring at
them with pale face and tortured eyes. In her
very presence her daughter was shattering every
tradition of maidenly modesty, clinging to a

348 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

man with lithe encircling arms and burning lips

lips that were raining kisses on his set, agonized
face. The mother's countenance showed her
suffering, but she was silent. The life of Don
Antonio was at stake. Loreto was bartering her
caresses for her father's life, as a courtesan sells
herself for gold.

Again the girl entwined him in hsr arms, her
cheek against his, her tears dampening his face
and brow.

"Give them to me ! Think, Juan, 5ve hours'—
three hours'— perhaps one hour's delay means
my father's life. Given time, he may escape to
Mexico. Thou canst say thou lost the papers-
dropped them on the way. Give them to me!"
she pleaded.

"No harm will come to thee. 'Twould not
be strange to lose the papers. Give them to me, "
she panted, "and I am thine— when and how
thou wilt— here and now if thou wish it. In one
moment we can bring Father Estenaga from the
Plaza Church."

No words from John Carroll's quivering lips.
Within his soul a battle raged, such as seldom
comes to any man— a battle such as leaves
marks of age on cheek and brow.

"If thou wilt not give them to me, promise
me," she pleaded, "oh, promise me, Juan, that
thou wilt lose them, or that thou wilt lose thy way

SHE SHALL PRAY FOR YOUR DEATH 349

Two Wg tears were slowly stealing down
^U^ d,«ks. but his face was set an/his jl^
finn. Not for nothing had John CarroU cC
rf a race of soldie,.. The battle was overl^:
soldier had conquered the lover. GentT; he

..^ and held her wnsts as he spoke.
Heaven have mercy on us. Loreto, I-I-i
^ot. I must do my duty, come what may. I

I ^aLo"; J'^'^^'i' " ^^^^ ^y strength
I cannot be counted a traitor to my country

and to my duty. No CarroU ever faikd iTth^
l^ll\^:^'' Kiss me once. U^^-t

ofS; \*^^f^ «^« ^^ no hope. The sacrifice

hL »L "^'"^^ °^°^"^'y' ^^'^ ^^'"^y reserve
had been m vain. Over her face flooded a wave
of angry red. Injured pride stung through the
deademng despair of the moment. ^

* .u^'l, ^^® motioned toward the door. "Mv
father's blood wiU redden your hands. Go. and
W me o pray on bended knees for your deaTh
^, that I may ask the Virgin to grant that you
may never reach Fremont. " ^

! ■

,i *^

350 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

His shoulders drooped as if laden with a sudden
weight, kindly he groped to the door and
mounted hk horse. His heart aching, his head
whirling, he spurred his mount into a wild gallop
around the comer and into one of the side streets
leading north out of the plaza. Eve- before him
rose the tear-stained face of Loreto, and the
bitterness of her parting words. Now, even
now, she was praying, praying that —

Like a blow, the words of the Indian woman
came to him, palpitating throt^h his mind with
cruel reiteration: "She who loves you shall pray
for your death — shall pray for your death —
shall pray for yoiur death." His horse's feet
seemed to patter the words as he swung on.

Again their meaning changed and their regular
thud sang: "Blood shall smear your path — smear
your path — smear your path."

Furiously he spurred his horse, dashing through
the stream without pause, the fl)ring water min-
gling unnoticed with the perspiration on his face.
Over the rise in the ground 1^ galloped and woiind
through the same hollow, where, sick and dizzy,
one August day six months before he had gazed
into the muzzles of the executioners* menacing
guns.

"God," he groaned, "why didn't I die then?
I should have been spared this."

Around him iie felt, drawing closer, nearer, and

SHE SHALL PRAY FOR YOUR DEATH 351

tighto-, the meshes of the anpitying, encirding
fate, foretold by the blind Indian hag. In the
starry sky above, in the dark earth below, in his
own soul, nowhere was there help, hope, or mercy
Over him surged a great wave of bitterness— an
ocean of self-pity and despair.

Suddenly there fell upon him a cahn— a calm so
strange that it seemed almost like a relief. He
sighed and wondered. Though he knew it not
It was the cahn of utterly exhausted emotion'
Dimly he felt that he could suffer no more, that
the limit bad been reached. Truly it mattered
httle what happened now. Almost he felt him-
self wishing that Loreto's prayer would be granted
that a flying buUet or a kindly lance point would
end it all. He was ready.

He reined his horse suddenly. Was that the
soft scuffle of hoofs in the rear ? Cantering behind
a rise, he waited. Surely that dark shadow
movmg on the far side of the arroyo was a horse-
man! He drew his pistol from his belt and
peer jd again across the depression. But no dark
form emerged from the bushes; aU was silence
Th«i he smiled cheerfuUy. It was MarshaU
he concluded, attired in his strange disguise'
foUowmg him as bodyguard. StiU somewhat
puzzled, for he could see no reason for the frontiers-
man's secretive tactics, he resumed his way, now
m the arroyo, over its white sands, now on the

3Sa THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

brink, ever peering watchfully into the scattered
shrubbery on its level floor.

He was now six or seven miles from the pueblo.
Par away to the north loomed the moimtain range,
a heaving swell of blackness against the starlit sky.
To the right, across the arroyo, rose the last of a
succession of low rolling hills, that ran northeast
from the city. Beyond that to the mountains,
five miles away, there was no eminence from
which he could look for the warning camp fires
of Fremont. Carefully he climbed the hill, and
as his horse drew out on the roimded top, free from
oaks, he started, and muttered in surprise:

"Fremont's camp."

He was the soldier again, alert and attentive.
Below him, bathed in the mellow moonlight, lay
the rounded, billowing tops of the oaks, with here
and there an open park. A half-mile or so away,
to the northeast, around the foot of a low conical
hill, lay a crescent-shaped line of glittering specks
of flame.

His brow knit in perplexity. Was it Fremont
or Flores, or both? Had the two armies met
already? Had there been a battle, or a peaceful
surrender? He did not know.

If the fires he saw flickering like stars against
the blackness of the distant hill were those of the
beaten Califomian army, he was truly in a
dangerous position, for he could not be far from

SHE SHALL PRAY FOR YOUR DEATH 355

their outposts. At any moment he was likely to
encounter one of their pickets. \

And yet it might be Fremont. If it were, and
he were to ride still farther west in search of the
Pathfinder, it would mean a loss of hours before
the dispatches were delivered. Stockton had
urged haste. The words of Loreto came to him •
"Lose thy way till sunrise." and with them the
temptation to ride westward. No blame could be
attached to him; it would be but an error of
judgment. But the blood of his father within him
was uppermost, and he put the disloyal thought
sternly away. There was nothing to do but
reconnoiter.

Tying his horse to an oak, for he felt that
he could more easily escape detection on foot, he
cautiously descended the hiU, gliding noiselessly
from tree to tree tiU he reached the edge of the
arroyo. Silently creeping from one open spot to
another, along the winding rim of the water
course, he could hear below him the gurgle of
running water and the drowsy chiips of birds
disturbed from their slumbers in the trees about.

Smooth and level was the road by the arroyo's
brink, dwindling at times to a mere bridle path
bordered at his left by the dark tops of the syca-
mores, whose roots were set in the arroyo bottom.
His plans were made. Could he approach near
enough to the picket line, a few moments' scrutiny

i»

354 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

would tell whether the camp was American or
Califomian. He would follow the rim of the
arroyo to the north toward the mountains until
due west of the camp, and then creep carefully
over the rise that tcjomed now between him and
the camp fires. Possibly he could creep near
enough to catch a glimpse of the men moving
about the fires or to overhear a few spoken words.

A mile of stealthy advance; the road swung
away from the bank; the trees faded away on all
sides, leaving an op^ moonlit space, where stood
alone a giant oak, wide branched and stately.
Suddenly Carroll recognized the tree. He had
riddai past it one day with Don Augustin Alvaro.
Over the rise to the east where shone the camp
fires was the ranch house of the San Pasqual, the
country *• ? lie of Don Jos6 Antonio Arillo.

As he itt jped into the shadow of the oak his
waiting ear detected the sound of approaching
footsteps. He glanced upward. Above him
stretched a long, level limb of the tree. Bound-
ing from the earth, he grasped it with both hands,
and drew himself up. In a moment he was lying
flat on the bough, unseen in the obscurity, motion-
less, watchful.

■■1:

CHAPTER XXXII

BY THE GIANT OAK

OULLENLY and doggedly the beaten Cali-
*^ fomian army drew slowly to the northeast
from the battlefield of the mesa.

From the vanguard, where rode Flores, AriHo,
and the other oflScers, to the groaning wounded
in the last of the lumbering carretas, was the
speechless gloom of utter despair. Through the
green, wide-flung vales, around the low, rolling
hills to the northeast, the cavalry line woimd
slowly and painfully. Ever, during the short
winter evening, their anxious eyes turned to the
southward, where the pickets of their own rear
guard could be seen on the swelling hilltops
watchfuUy alert for a glimpse of the enemy.
But from the solitary horseman on the eminences
came no fluttering signal, no warning pistol flash
that told of pursuit.

The westering sun was low in the sky before the
San Pasqual Rancho was reached. The-e, on the
wide open space at the foot of the hill, the order
was given to make camp. Food was not lacking,
for Arillo, with characteristic forethought for
the welfare of the men, even while the last wild
charge of the Califomian horse was roEng back
in confusion, had hastily dispatched gaUoping

35S

it'

3S6 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

couriers to the rancho with orders to prepare for
the coming of the army. It was his own cattle
that were driven into camp, butchered on the spot,
and roasted at the fires that in the gathering dusk
soon blazed around the foot of the hill.

In the adobe ! xult by Leo the J5tranger the
officers made their headquarters. Early after
their arrival they held a council of war. All were
present except Hugo Vanuela. He had been
degraded to the ranks as punishment for his
failure to advance at the critical moment during
the fight at the riVer, a punishment which he
received with a contemptuous, indifferent shrug.

Their councils were divided; they could reach
no conclusion. Commandant Flores and Garfias
urged that the Dons disband the army and escape
to Mexico by the way of the San Gorgonio Pass.
With characteristic optimism, Pico and De la
Guerra, believing that in spite of his threats the
American commander, now that he had attained
his end, the capture of the pueblo, might yet prove
magnanimous, were in favor of again opening
negotiations with Stockton. Rico and Cota
advised retreat to the moimtains, where a guerrilla
warfare could be carried on interminably.

"Wilt ride with us to Sonora, Don Jos6
Antonio? " said Flores to Arillo, who had taken no
part in the discussions.

"I cannot, I will not, run away. Far rather

JMT^'^nfT'-'^^^?^^ ^■:k-'%-^m

BY THE GIANT OAK 357

woi^d I have history relate that Don Jos6 Antonio
Anllo died even on the scaffold than that Don Jos6
Antonio AriUo fled. I wiU remain, or go to the
mountains; which, I have not decided."

It was finally, determined to postpone further
discussion till the morrow. Worn out by the
stirring events of the day, they retired to their
couches.

Arillo, to whose eyes sleep refused to come,
mounted his horse and made a round of the out-
posts before again seeking his couch. Over the
rolling hills, the darkened plain, the gently
rounded tops of the oaks, the high-sailing moon
cast Its softened glow. High up on the hiU above
him the lone figure of a picket was silhouetted
agamst the starlit sky. To the south the arroyo
hiU rose, a swell of lusterless blue-black, to meet
the spangled glory of the night. Close at hand
the dewdrops gUstened on the leaves and grass
blades. Around him. half hidden in the dense
shadows of the oaks, lay the twisted forms of his
men. Mingled with the ceaseless song of the
spring came the champing of the tethered horses
farther up the hill, the movement of a restless
sleeper, a few muttered words,— the many indis-
tinct sounds of the slumbering camp.

The Don, his inspection of the outposts
completed, dismounted and threaded his way
among the recumbent figures beneath the oaks.

3S8 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

Bending over, he touched a deeper oo the cheek,

and Manuel, startled, sat up.
"Come, my son," whispered AriUo. "I would

speak with thee."
"Mount," commanded the father, as he

motioned to his horse standing in the open.

Wonderingly the boy obeyed.
"Listen, Manuel, my son." There was a

tremor in the voice of the Don. "It is now time

f<M- thee to return home. Leave thy arms here.

Ride quietly into the pueblo. Speak to no one.

Remain within the house for many days with

thy mother and sister. They will need thee far

more than does the army.

"Son," and Arillo's voice was now husky with
emotion, "it may be we shall not meet again.
If the worst comes to me, do thou try to bear it
like a man. It will be for thee, then, to uphold
and comfort by thy strength thy mother and
sister. Remember, they will look to thee.

"Whatever comes to pass, Manuel, remember
it is the will of God. In the days to come, let
there be no bitterness in thy heart toward the
Americans. It will be but the way of war. Do
thou try to learn their tongue and their ways.
Guard well thy mother and sister. Remember
what I now say to thee— what my father, dying,
said to me,— 'An Arillo can never be aught but
a Christian and a gentleman.'

BY THE GIANT OAK 359

••May the saints preserve thee, my son. Go-
go by the south; the pickets there have orders to
let thee pass."

The boy, awed by the solemnity in his father's
voice, was sobbing with bent head. Suddenly
he leaped to the ground.

fhJ^'^i °°' ^^i^^'J ^ "^^ °°* «°- ^* "^« die with
thw he implored, as he clung to him frantically
No, my child; it must not be. They need
thee. Go, my son; go, I command thee "

One last embrace, and the boy, stiU sobbing,
obeyed. As the sound of his horse's hoofbeats died
away in the distance the father sank to the grass
his head on his knees. Over him surged a great
wave of despair. His heart ached as he thought
oi his wife of Loreto, of Jos6, whose fate no one
faiew, of Manuel, whom he had seen probably for
the last time, and the inevitable ignominy of the
morrow. From the adobe came the low moans of
'•^"l ' f ^^!»t«J^ scream of adyingman.
of rSj^' '^1^^ ^' head as if in the presence
of death, "this-is-the end. Oh, God above,"
he moaned, as he gazed up at the scintillating
firmament, ' is there no help ?"

But the stars looked down on the broken-
hearted man ^th their cold, steely gUtter, as
they have looked down at the agony and soul grief
of countless thousands of men since the beginning
of time. •

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36o THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

The sound of a stealthy footstep caused him to
turn his head. In the dim form he had glimpsed
melting into the obscurity of the underbrush the
Don fancied he had recognized the figure of Hugo
Vanuela. Arillo knew well that he had not been
one of the evening's detail of pickets. That the
man who had been under suspicion since his
disobedience at the river should be prowling about
the sleeping camp was a matter for instant investi-
gation.

Now halting in the shadows, now dodging from
tree to tree, then dashing across open, moonlit
spaces, Arillo followed the retreating figure for
nearly a mile, up the gentle rise to the west, and
down the long slope toward the arroyo.

Close was the fugitive to the edge of the chasm,
when, as if disdaining fiuther concealment, he
halted beneath a giant oak that stood alone in a
circle of moonlight. It was Hugo Vanuela, and
as he faced Arillo he drew his sword with a fine
air of bravado.

"So-o-o," there was malignant triimiph in the
long drawn vowel, "it is the Senor Arillo. I
expected you to follow. You were very prompt.
I thank you, seiior."

"Why this skulking on the outskirts of the
camp, Seflor Vanuela? Return at once to your
company," ordered Don Jos6 Antonio.

"I am not a member of your command;

BY THE GIANT OAK 36,

'■You are a traitor, Vanuela, as you were but
cany to the enemy news of our whereabouts ■•

Anllo. that we fight here, with the land of the San
Pasqual beneath our feet.-the land that was my

[fin ' 'I f"" ^°'^'' ^°^ 'h^" y^<^ be mine. It
IS weU and fittmg also that you should die here."
In the clear. moonUt stillness the musical clang
of the r rm^ng blades came to Lieutenant John
Carroll as he clung enthralled to the limb
of the mighty oak. Now on the dewlit grass
now gyrating under the shadow of the tree, the
men fought. AnUo ever on the offensive; Vai^uela
retreating, wheeling, cautious and wary, playing
a w^tmg game. As they swung around the tree
trunk they were hidden from CarroU's view by the
inteivemng branches. When they again emerged
mto the moonhght he saw that Arillo's cheek was
laid wide open, and that his white shirt was
streaked with blood. Closer, ever nearer to™
overhangmg bough they moved, until the Ameri-
can could look down into their faces. Arillo's hard

KfJ

362 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

set, and worried, Vanuela's twisted in sneering
triumph. Like streaks of burnished silver their
blades scintillated in the moonlight, and far up the
hill a mocking bird, in answer to the rhythmic
clang, awoke from its slumbers and poured forth
its soul in song.

Vanuela was a magnificent swordsman; the
agility of youth and his sturdy strength were in
his favor, while the pace he was now setting was
a killing one for Arillo's maturer years. Already
Don Jos6 Antonio was weakening; the silent
watcher in the tree could hear his hard-drawn
breath. *

A furious clatter of steel, and Vanuela gave way
before the Don's desperate attack. But only
for a moment. Hugo grinned as he felt on his
blade the weakening pressure that told of his
antagonist's relaxed effort.

A few seconds of further play, and Carroll
saw the sword of Don Jos6 Antonio fly through
the air and rebound from the tree trunk.

Not a moment did Hugo Vanuela hesitate.
With incredible quickness he unhooked the riata
dangling at his hip and cast its long noose over
Arillo's shoulders, and then, loop after loop,
bound him in its repeated folds, until he was
helpless. Panting and breathless in its stiffening
coils, the Don tottered to the groimd.

Vanuela silently drew from his clothing a

BY THE GIANT OAK 363

tmder box, dicfced the sted and flint, and csUnlv

anoke he seated himself on a stone, facing the
Men ^rnan, who was staring at him with wondt

Ariito ^ W "^ "^ ''"''"• °°° J<»« Antonio
■anllo, to nave a conversation, a very orivat,.

conversation, w.h you. and tlis wirdouS
be the fast opportunity that wiU be cS^Z
me. You Senor Don Jos« Antonio, are one of
the eente de razon." he went on in a ^lalevokntly
^^g vo.ce. "From me your faces weral"^

S Z r^^' '^^ '"* '^°°" of y°" homes
w^h !? ! f«"° many a man in the pueblo
^t A.W °* ^ "■^'^-'hal to buy a L>„d

^„-^ ^v" ' "^"^ *'>^' ''y "ght *ould now

a^Z'pe J h' ^°'^''* J*"^ ""^ ^''*«'- ^y dying
nnw '^?T''5°.''« made provision for the future
Don Jos« Antonio, for I swore tc him that orS
^am would I win the rancho of the San PaLj^S
and tha^^ you and yours should suffer-should
pay m bl and sorrow, in grief and tears I
have kept the oath; so shaU it be. For I shall
rfl'J^^, ^^ Americans take you and the others

^^ if ^'^- * ''°°" waU-the firing
squad. It ,s a pretty picture, is it not, Don Jos^

i'^'A

364 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

Antonio Arillo? Or maybe— one cannot tell—
the Americans have some strange ways. It is
said they like the rope. Perhaps it will be that
very honorable death for the noblemen of the
gente de razon."

The pride of Don J S Antonio kq t him silent.
He was staring at vanuela scornfully. Hugo
watched him curiously, showing his big white
teeth in a satisfied grin.

^^ "Pardon me, my dear seiior," he continued.
"I assure you I am telling you a very wicked
untruth. I shall not have the pleasure of seeing
you shot or hanged by the Americans, but instead
a much greater one, that of killing you myself
in a few minutes. Oh, yes; it i^ true you might
cry out. It might bring some one from the camp,
and I should simply have to kill you the sooner."
Above, Carroll clung to the bough, shocked,
silent, motionless. But along the limb lay his
pistol, primed and cocked, its sight covering the
head of Hugo Vanuela. A do^ien times his
finger trembled on the trigger, but he hesitated.
The Califomian camp was less than a mile away,
and & single shot would mean his capture, the
loss of the dispatches, and possible execution as
a spy. With thumping heart and set teeth, he
waited.

"They do say, sefior," went on Hugo, "that
one grows wise, very wise, when close to death.

BY THE GIANT OAK

bejSS.dtSLV'^''^"-'-'"-'' Of utter

"I have heard my father sav— h.f~
your fi jds killed him-fW '""' ""^

and not the blood thT^?^v" '^ the brain
the blood ttat^l^*"?f« *« "«». even were

now thTviX is t tttV"''' t ""'^- And
'■aif-breed. hZo'MZ''"^ "^ ""^ "^'-^

to ^'t ^ irke^r4° ^H°" «' "-

sneer into the facTof rtt '"* * <^'»«<»'

have hated youXl T w f "' '"'• "^

father died, and S V^ ^? '"'*° "^

your friends have I«S but «^ °"f?" y°" »"d
Like sheep l«ve I i^ „ " ^"^^ " "y hands.

«w^!rt^yrsrei;t''°°- '^^

-^l^ilrLTtZ^f^ MacNamara.
other, who prompted th^ to^he 3^^°"^^

"You-you^" gasped AriUo.

■^'

366 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

' Myself, none other, Don Jos6 Antonio. The
next day, along with the dreamer Palera and
the Englishman MacNamara, we gathered them
at the Taredon Bluff. It was I, you will remember,
who brought to you the proclamation. Madre
de Dios, but I was a fine patriot in those days — all
with one purpose, my dear friend, — to have you
break your parole. Yes, I, Hugo Vanuela, the
despised half-breed, did it with the help of the
Englishman, who was Don Pablo de Almagro,
the Spaniard from Mexico," he chuckled, "he
whom you found dead in the powder house at
San Gabriel. It was true! Alvaro was right!
He was but an English agent who had planned to
give California to the English. You were too
late. It was I who killed him, but not before
much gold, much Englisli gold, had passed from
his hands into mine. That night I also spoiled
the powder."

"You spoiled the powder?" panted Arillo.

"None other, my dear Arillo. That is not all.
Much more have I done. It was I who sent the
note to Cota that prevented the signal being
given to Benito Willard, the time you planned
to speak with Stockton. It was at my suggestion
that Flores sent your young Jos6 to San Luis
Obispo with dispatches. Fremont caught and
hanged him, I have learned.

'In every incident of the last six month: Don

<<-

BY THE GIANT OAK 35^

alone. ^oto^yyt^G^tp^J^;;:;?^^

colonel Fremont. WhenThave ^ t^^'^'"
other fooiryrdt^* h«. here to captm, the

iarhiS.rL°Sh'Sor"°:t-:rj'-^'

ment, when the carcasses ofThTf , ^ *°'^-
rotting under th?^ ""* «*"" * ""»« <«

"You— you devil," panted ArUlo a.<: h. «„
gled hopelessly with his bonds '*"«=■

haj^^ "^"^ ""' ^""Jde". and grinned

^^afX'^--Wp.^e
can one help it with such ancestry? "'"'

Kttle ^<tj^p^::^°^ "^^ »«"• "how a
hates U loves p^^I? ylst i^? *""/ "^'^
one that you wiU .TjeSnd ^^^^'^ Z
be v«y. ve^ wise. „y friend, a few 4.ut"liS

1-1

368 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

now. ' I have told you all these things, and I do
not fear that you will repeat them, for a dead man
cannot speak. But one favor I would ask. You
may see my father over there. Will you tell him
for me that I have kept my word, that the debt
has been paid?"

He stood above the helpless man, toying with
his dagger as if loath to end the gloating joy of
thi" long-looked-for moment.

L,at Don Jos6 Antonio was silent. His eyes
were closed and his lips moviiig faintly. He was
prajring. When he opened his eyes he looked up
fearlessly into Vanuela's.

"Pray on — pray on," sneered Hugo. "I will
wait. Pray to your angels and saints to bave you.
Let them save you, and I will believe they are
more powerful than Hugo Vanuela.

"When you are dead," he went on, "I shall ride
at once, not to Stockton but to Fremont, who is,
one of my Indian scouts tells me, but twenty miles
to the west, beyrnd the Cahuenga Pass, and in a
few hours the other fools over yonder shall be
prisoners of war."

Dagger in hand, he stepped toward the Don,
"Take this thought with you into the other world
that after you are dead your daughter will be
mine. I may marry her — perhaps; perhaps not,
if it does not suit me. I shall have her, anyway.
Why should the daughter of the gente de razon

BY THE GIANT OAK 369

fa« hotter than any brc.vn Indian girl in the wil-

of ^""fi^ "*« *!:*7°"'' '*'' ^^ «•» "hen a spurt
°' /^ fif fl«^«l in the branches of the oT

heJcT^But'^'"^' '"'* ■"'I"""'' '^' f«Wy to his
and ««f^ ■" « "«>">ent he had drawn his sword,
and crossed blades with John Carroll.

can Bu^''~^°''~''*''"'" '^^'J t** Amen.
tremblWli™ i"** "° "'""" f"™ Vanuela's
rf Thi K f • V' 'T" '*'" *h*^ f "»» the shock

dZ^ K °"f °"''''">8h'. the blood trickled
down his brown cheek in two dark streams.

With oU the i5er« fury of a frenzied kate
CarroU fought en. Twice he had though? to
have to swo.d in Vanuela's throat, but the Utt^
deverly elud^ kim. Again h, pressed Urn d^

^T *^u *■'* ^^ "»» "o^- "hen t" t^;
«xs above the ringing of steel, came the pouiX
«g of hoofs over the rise to the east

edgt of the arroyo, and as Cairoll. relaxed Us
efforts he made an agile b^ck^ard l..p, J^^l

Nearer and nearer thundered the pounding
hoofs. As a sco;e of mounted C Jifomians dashed

•il'

no THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

up to the oak, Carroll, who was racing down tlio
roadway, darted into the shrubbery.

Under the tree Don Jos6 AnUmio. bound fast
in the wmding strands of the riata. lay unconscious.

CHAPTER xxxiir

AT THB devil's RocK

from beneath the S """* ~™'"«

A cessation of hoofbeats, wild yells of rn~

Antonio, bound and bl Jina tk« "^

Anllo was unconscious, maybe dead Ho^
men were galloping north and'south 4 "^^'
ofthearroyo. The man hunt wa- .n

.hfXt::h1owL7tLT-T^*'-"«''

s;tnors; '"r- "-- "-- t^m's

depth for the ghmpse of a moving figure Wrth

^i:^ga?e"^ayrdrr^\''''-^"-^
th. fl r f^' ** ■" f"""** himself slidine to

<!™n^w 'I' "^" ''™'" footed a voice in
Spamsh from the bank above. The hue .^^

hiXrcrflCrtft""'""*'"*- ^-

center a w^d^g nb^n If tuT"^"' ''°"" '"
^^s noDon of murmuring, moonlit

371

'i-

T'-

372 THE DONS OP THS OLD PUEBLO

water. To reach his horse, hidden in the oaks
on the side of the arroyo hill, was manifestly im-
possible; arotmd the foot of the eminence he
could hear the searchers calling to one another.
His only chance was to run farther up the arroyo,
find a place of concealment, and remain hidden
until the fury of the chase had abated.

Hunying along the soft rim of yellow sand at
the water's edge, he ran on noisele^y, preserving
his strength and wind for the final effort he
felt was certain to come, should they catch sight
of him. Past him, as he ran, glided, dreamlike,
forms of dwarf oak and scrubby sycamore. Ever
he looked to th3 higher giound up the arroyo,
where the banks closed in cafLon-like above the
little stream, and a deeper blackness told of tall
evergreen trees. There, in darkness and silence,
wa.", safety.

Only once, as he heard a clatter of falling
pebbles, did he glance back in time to catch a
glimpse of the dark forms of mounted men, pick-
ing their way down the sloping bank. Clearer
came the sound of the chase behind him, the creak
of leather and rattle of hoofs among the loose
stones of the river bed. A curse and a shout,
followixi by a bullet splash in the water at his
feet, told that at last they had caught sight of
his fleeing form. Carroll knew the voice; it was
that of Ballestos. Another bullet sang above

AT THE DEVIL'S ROCK 373

hish^. The pounding of hoofs and exultant
yells drew nearer and nearer.

A final sprint, and he dashed into the compar-
ative darkness of the little cafion. Turning

^^^*°Kf 'i!f ; ^" '^"^ ^^^^ ^* ^^ the
impenetrable blackness between the trees and

J^iamed motionless. Kindly, the moon slid
be^d a doud, and past him his pursuers thun-
dered m wild pursuit.
Breathless, exhausted, he lay, until the hoofbeats

ftnit?^^"" *?' ^"^^^ He glanced upward
for his landmarks. Above him towered the tops
of the evergreens at the foot of which he had sought
refuge. Behind them rose a steep hill, capped by
a cone-s^ped rock. The summit, he calculated,
would afford a safe hiding place, and be in-
accessible to horses. There one man could stand off
a thousand. Even that might not be necessary.
If th^ discovered his ruse and returned, he might
possibly shp over the narrow isthmus-like neck
beyond the rock and escape into the friendly and
more remote blackness of the trees beyond If
cornered, he would fight to the end. Capture

With infimte caution he crept up the steep face
of the slope, clinging to the shrubs, straggling
bushes, grass roots, and jutting stones. The rock
loomed above him, nearer and closer, clear-cut
against the starUt sky. There was a dark gash

■r

i - •

374 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

across its front a few feet above the shadow which
shrouded its foot. It proved to be a low cave
a deep gouge across the face of the pinnacle.

Could he reach the opening? It seemed an
impossible feat. Standing on the narrow ledge
at the foot of the rock, he reached his arms high
above his head, seeking for a crevice, a piece of
roughened rock by which he might draw himself
up into the cleft. Under ordinary circumstances
the effort would be slight, but necessity for silence
made it difficult. Slowly the groping hands
moved across the rock face. At last a lump on
the slantmg surface met his searching fingers.
Plattening himself against the wall for conceal-
ment, he drew himself up, his knees scraping
cruelly as he glued himself to the ahnost vertical
face of the rock. Inch by inch he wriggled up-
ward, one hand reaching out for another hold
while, limpet-like, he held fast with toe, elbow'
shoulder, and chin. Once he slipped, and as his
body sank a Kttle a thriU of fear swept over him.
For a moment he pictured himself crashing to
the rock-strewn stream forty feet below.

After a series of breathless efforts, and what
seemed like years, he found himself lying in the
cleft, his heart pounding in his ears, his scraped
knees smarting painfully, his fingers torn and
bleeding, but his tired lungs expanding and re-
leasing joyfully at every breath.

AT THE DEVIL'S ROCK 3,5

Distof "^^ ^ ?°«h^^y looked to his
Be^ow hun the rock jutted out in a im^tv<Ain

s^:?t^'e^.:rh^r^v°"--^

o.^ stones Jd t^^^,XZ" "^'

tack. The splashujg of horses' feet in the water

S^att T t*^ *^»^«<»« » Castihan told to
that h,s stalker were again at the foot of the s W

The cursed American is somewhere b^:
^» 2*offi* ^T"-'"''- voice o?^an'e^.

^e S^T""" ""^ *° ^^^ °^ ""^"^^ -

of Ballestos, protesting, ordering. The ^^
about, sUent, on their horses. "= men sat

'•God and his angels, Sefior Captain,"-the
speaker's words had the imnerfecHnn „f ..
that marked the half-Indl^S^ !!^^^^-

ant^" " j"JP^ BaUestos. "Who will vol-
Set hi"" '"^'^ ™'«^ '--«> to »

' ij

,1 1

376 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

The hunted man waited, trembling with ex-
haustion and excitement. Would their super-
stitious fears after all overcome their desire for
vengeance? This was indeed the Devil's Rock,
where so man/ years ago the ill-fated Leo, the
father of Vanuela, was reputed to have simg his
wicked songs and chanted his unholy litanies
in the moonlight.

In spite of the desperation of his position,
Carroll smiled grimly. In a twinkling he changed
his plans. A pistol shot would be proof positive
to the trembling Califomians below that their
human quarry was within reach, but a blow,
unseen, unheard, would inspire them with terror.
He drew hip heavy army pistol from his belt,
grasped it by the barrel, and creeping to the edge
of the rock lip, waited.

Footsteps, creeping, climbing, caused him to
grasp his weapon more firmly, rise to one knee, and
lean out as far as he dared within the shadow of
the rock above. To the right of the cleft ap-
peared a black head. Warily the Califomian
came on, setting one foot before the other on the
narrow path.

As he stole on, stopping at every step to scan
the obsctuity about him, his head was almost
on a level with the floor of the cave, where
knelt Carroll, one hand on the ground, the other
grasping the pistol upraised in readiness. The

AT THE DEVIL'S ROCK 377

C^wnian had evidently made the ascent from
behind the rock, where the slope was more grad-
ual. Apparently he expected and hoped to find
no hidden fugitive.

. Down came the pistol butt on the black head
mth a sickening thud. Without even a moan
the man fell, roUing and sHding into the darkness
below. As the sound of crashing bushes died
away, caUs of inquiry came from below.

Immediately another Califomian came silently
around the rock from the left, dropped some
five feet to the narrow ledge, and looked about
him mquiringly.
"Pedro," he called softly.
Again CarroU's long arm shot out from the
black cave above the man's head; the pistol butt
caught him fairly above the temple. With a
funny httle squeal—a short of stiU-bom shriek
the Califomian reeled outward. Again the crash-
mg of bushes and the trickling of stones told of a
damaging slide and fall.

At the bottom of the slope aU was confusion
and terror. They had seen the forms of their two
comrades come rolling and tumbling toward them
but the figure of Carroll was hidden from thei^
sight by the intervening treetops.

BaUestos swore softly, and crossed himself.
Draggmg the two stricken men from beneath the
tree trunks at the foot of the slope, they found

f fi

378 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

that Pedro was unconscious, and his companion
dazed and badly hurt.

"Truly it is the devil's rock," he moaned. "I
was struck and cast down by no one that I could
see. It was the devil himself."

The Califomians looked at one another, at
their oflBcers, at the rock gleaming gray-white
behind the treetops.

"Por Dios," muttered one, "I would we were
well away from here."

"Hearken, men," came the voice of Ballestos.
"Will you dlow the accursed American to escape
who has ahnost murdered your colonel, Don Jos6
Antonio Arillo? He is doubtless an American
scout who has stumbled on our camp. Well you
kiiow that he will carry to Stockton at the pueblo
the news of our whereabouts. We will riddle the
hill with bullets, and charge up together."

His words came clearly to the man above.
Worn by the emotional stress of the last few hours,
and tired by his strenuous physical efforts,
Carroll felt ahnost tempted to laugh aloud at the
mockery of fate. Ke, who had undoubtedly
saved the life of Don Jos6 Antonio, was counted
his would-be murderer; he, who had determined
to make an appeal to Fremont for mercy for the
condemned men, was believed to be a scout who
would carry to the enemy the news of their
whereabouts. With set teeth and burning heart

AT THE DEVIL'S ROCK 3;^

His thoughts were interrupted by the It^^i

S^ffpoT^'o ,1 *PP^ °^ Ballestos had had
about the foot of the slo™» w- ^ ?•

^unarmed aad helpless m^. VieSj^
vmdicbve, would see that they listen^to^
explanations. CarroU's ^tieat'^^^t^"
a do«n long lances thrust into the dT^T^l
Plungmg upward voUey ftxm. thf ^^t^U '

murder hmi if he suirendeied. and if taken to

tadc would say he died insisting. ""^^ *°

Suddenly he thought of his disoatches Tt

^ h.s duty to see that they did ^^u> til

SL V ^ """"?• ^^'^e "'em from hi^
douMet lus fingers began to twist them to bite

S thl'^ave"^ ''^ ^^ " *"« ^^ - *b^ fl-

■ ! : I-

e^.i

M,-

1: s:

380 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

Again the mar* soul was shaken by a tempta-
tion so strong ye. so insidious that ashestrug^ied

with ,t tiie cold drops gathered on his brow^ce
destroyed, the dispatches with their merdlws

W^S" "^^J"^^ ««<* ^remo :t. whether he

IST'^:^^^ ''^^^^ '"""^ ^o^d see his
^ot-ndd^ed body sprawling at the foot of the

S^'^i^S^'' ">^^ ^d said, their destruc
^ would save the life of Don Jos6 Antonio
Anllo. It was the one thing he could do. dying,

AnUonughthve Even now she was praying,
and her prayers were about to be answ^S!

That you shaU never reach Premont-that
you shaU die before sunrise." she haa said. So
the accursed Indian hag had spoken! "She who
loves you shaU pray for yov- death "

The tense finger^ bent again in a tearing motion.
T^caine from the foot of the slope the voice of

i^lfT^^'^^u ^^^"' ^' temptation van-
ished, hurriedly thrust himself backward into the
mmost comer of the fissure. Unconsciously he

« xT^^ ^® P^P«^ to Ws doublet.
Fire!"

A thundering volley blazed out at the foot of
the hiU. Carroll heard the shaip splatter of lead
agamst the rock, and his cheek stung as a buUet
sent a spray of stone dust into his face

AT THE DEVIL'S ROCK

your lancef. short Stkh?,""*' *°«'*^"- ho'd

^ow- we-u j:t ht^::^ r*^ ««pi»ous

;:Jesus Maria, wh^ ^,X%'^ "' '*"^--
f«>m the entire Cr^''"™°«*^^''°f'«n»r

waiting to set foot itTcf- ,. ^^^ P^"^<^' never

ace t<f th^":::;" S' '"' ''"^'^ ""^^y-
for'tt!;.:rs.rc:^Cf* --• ^^

was silence saU for Vhf^. * '^ "*"*=■ All
riU at the foot ot^^^ ^ P''*"""^ °f the
Itself frorthet^Tp aS t;:^ *« 'o--"
»^w ledge beneath, loite^^ t^^^^f *° *!>«

— h^r i^r^* ^-^ t:c^~":;?st

10^ adohepofte j^^T'S"" ^' «"'
„ °t ared in the sheer bravado of

JS, THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

thud tumbW down th. ::S C "■*' ' "^'^
C^b«,t over t;.e crumpled figure at his feet.

heai^h"^"""" '* ''°"' A~ y°" hurt?"
r...!f^ , ""«*" '^'Sht hurriedly with the

fastenmgs of the black mask

J^LS' Sir „»rs, ,.

safe fnend CarroU-she will be glad-teU W^

AT THE DEVILS ROCK

died on the m^ to^?r ^ VJ"'^'' "">• "H.
"ded in thy e^pj. - ^^ ''"»' E««-^«a. too,

tH:^ttT„;^rthr;^''"-t°'''- ^'-

"eetine "rithout the <w"°Wk^ "''"^ your
'^. I heard her ^b^-fj^ '*,<>"„>»dst
»« eyes olosed, and e«n^7 u ^~

-,IJepa™xy»,;,4t^t':"n'""*= *■-•
I knew well thou wert ^h- .

From .he pueblo I folZT^ S.t"ito *^"^"-
to protect, if need be-" "^^' *o warn.—

what I have d^e-Tat .^'°~u'"'^* ^ ''o™
Tell her-tell h«-tw ?* "«'" l* haPPy.

te---verdt--r?-i
ttTore.''^-"-'''-f^:.t'n:^:

384 THE DCNS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

am glad to die for her as our martyrs were glad
to die for the Holy Paith. Por a long time have
I known it had to be— that the end of my days
was close at hand. Par— far better it is so.
Death to me is sweeter far than life would be
without her. Behind the rock is n.. orse. Ride,
ride!" A tremor convi^lsed his frame. His
whispered tones became childish and caressing.

"Loreto, mi qucrida— laugh for joy— weep
not for me. Have I not saved thy lover ? I^oreto
—1 love— thee."

The blood surged again to his lips, his head fell
to one side. The Black Matedor would ride no
more. Servolo Pklera was dead.

a^erwhelmed by the revelation, John Carroll
sat like a man of stone. Far from hii thoughts
were the dispatches, the Califomian camp but a
mile away, and Vanuela hurrying to Fremont on
his mission of vengeance. He only remembered
that he was gazing down into the sightless eyes
of a man who had lov d with a love that passeth
the understanding of man, a mar who had
twice saved his life and at the end giv ri his own
that joy and love should be the portion of Loreto
Arillo- and John Carroll.

The lieutenant sat alone in the moonlight, the
dead man's head on his knee, and wept like a
little child. Grotesquely the treet. about him
seemed to assume fantastic shapes, and a wolf on

AT THE DEVIL'S KOCK ,»,

*^tZ'T*'u''- '^''"^ <*'•'"'', howled dianaUy
hi. i^'' V T"^ '^' blood-stained ta^!^

Z ^« •^1;"." rr"'y ''"^ '"e star
»£ eyes On the dark, handsome face of the
d«d poet, framed in its flowing, wavy locto wm
• teolc of unutterable content

W.th one last backward look at the black
dad figure on the narrow ledge, Carroll clS^"
the ndge and found Scrvolo's horse, stTC
«th droopmg head, patiently awaiting the mum

^1 l ""^r""" ■""'«' "ho* »»nd on"u
rein .t would never know again

Chice in the saddle, Carroir, thought reverted
to his mission. He sighed wearily. V^^^e^
^iZ:/» "^'^ "art: nothing bl th^t !
S2 p "^a^^' ■'«>' "'-W prevent him from

S^wh-vITT* *".'• """^ ''™«^« bin. do^
v., r^''"""' °" the Califoraian camp.

t4t Ttialf ™. "*'■ 1°°' » P°^*le chance

wav tc^ "^^P* ^'*"°"''^ f"« °n the
way to make a iught attack on the Califomians
Spurrmg h.s startled and sensitive steed^H
u„^ gaUop, he swung away to the wt^towLS
the Cahucnga Pass on as vrild a ride as the honS
of war ever inspired. "snotTOrs

»S

«'i

TC^^W^

CHAPTER XXXIV

AN HONORABLE PEACE

" Y^S, Seflor Colrnel Fremont," Hugo Vanuela
was saying, 'you can capture them easily.
They are but twenty mUes distant to the east
at the San Pasqual Rancho of Don Jos4 Antonio
Arillo. They are disheartened, their powder ex-
hausted, and their ranks weakened by desertions
A quick gallop through the night with your entire
force, and you can end the war."

Vanuela's voice was eager, his eye bright with
unconcealed joy. ^ The hope of years, the planning
of many months, the dream of his Hfe, was ap-
proaching triumphant reaUzation. The fall of the
house of Arillo was at hand.

The two men were alone in a vaquero's hut at
the foot of the Cahuenga Pass. Fremont made
no reply; he was studying the face of Vanuela.
Ever a judge of men, there was something in the
Califomian's personality that made him hesitate.
Yet there was no good reason to disbelieve the
stranger's story; for more than once during his
long march southward from Monterey had come
to the Pathfinder's ears rumors of a conflict in
which the Califomians had been worsted.

"Good," he said at length. "Senor Vanuela
you yourself shall guide us to the camp of the

386

■^ "^^??^^'^

AN HONORABLE PEACE 387

enemy. You wiU ride ahead with an armed
guard on either side of you. They shaU have
orders to shoot you dead at the first sign of treach-
ery. Somehow, he had no idea of Vanuela re-
sentmg his distrust.

Fremont s piercing eyes were fuU on Vanuela's
face but he could find no sign of flinching in the
Califorman's steady gaze.

"That is weU," Hugo answered calmly. "I am
satisfied."

The American was convinced.
"The necessary orders shaU be given at once."
ile called aloud, and an orderly entered the
room.

"Have the bugle sound 'Boots and saddles '"
he ordered. "We march in twenty minutes'-
all but ten men, who will remain behind to guard
the baggagr." * "

From the xiext room came sounds of a loud alter-
cation, and Lieutenant Jack Carroll burst into the

crusted "" "'''' '"^^^^"' ^^ '^^^^''y

"Stop!" He held up his hand with a com-
manding gesture.

_'Who are you?" Fremont demanded angrily,
ilow dare you countermand my orders?"

"Lieutenant John Carroll of the Marine Corps"
he panted, "now of StocUon's volunteer com-
pany." "*

388 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

A flash of recollection came into the face of the
Pathfinder.

"Ah, yes; I remember you now— in the pueblo
last summer. You remained with Captain Gillie.
You were there when the revolt broke out. But — '*
"For God's sake, colonel," interrupted Carroll,
"in the name of humanity, wait — hear me before
you give that order."

Vanuela's deep voice broke in. "The Senor
Carroll doubtless carries dispatches from Commo-
dore Stockton. Hence his haste and agitation."

Hugo's mind had come to a swift conclusion.
In no other way could be explained Carroll's
presence near the arroyo, and his xmexpected
appearance here. The Califomian was smiling
happily; the dispatches once in Fremont's hands,
he had but little fear of the outcome. He knew
they contained the death warrant of the Dons.

Carroll's eyes, burning with bitter hate, were
fastened on Vanuela.

"There, colonel, stands the man who is respon-
sible for every drop of blood shed in California,"
he cried.

"Have you dispatches for me?" Fremont's
voice was tinged with impatience.
"Hear me first, colonel — "
"Lieutenant Carroll, hand me the dispatches."
There was no mistaking the peremptory tone.
Fremont's patience was at a breaking point.

AN HONORABLE PEACE 389

For a moment no sound could be heard in the
room but Carroll's hard-drawn breath as he
leaned one hand against the waU, an expression
of utter despair on his drawn face. Reluctantly
his other hand reached into his doublet

Fremont was puzzled. He scrutinized in turn
the faces of the two men. There was something
here beyond his understanding. As Carroll placed
the papers in the colonel's hands. Hugo grinned
gleefully The Gods of Chance were with him;
Dut h. frowned uneasily a moment later, when
Fremont laid the missives on the table and said
quietly:

"Lieutenant Carroll. I will hear you now."

Th«i, noticmg the waiting orderly. "You may pass

without, Lieutenant McLane, but remain within

-Tir-M ^^'^' L^«"*«"ant Carroll, but be brief."

Will not the colonel read his dispatches?"

suggested Vanuela.

Silence ! ' ' snapped Fremont.
The colonel's keen intuition and quick sym-
pathy a part of his GaUic inheritance, convinced
hun that m the lieutenant's tale he would find the
explanation of the curious conduct and strange
demeanor of the two men. In Carroll's face he
had noted the signs of intense mental suffering
He knew him as a capable officer and an honorable
man; of the other he knew nothing, save that he
was a deserter from a hopeless cause.

390 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

"CoW Fremont." said Carroll, his voice
now under control, "there stands the man who
assisted by a British spy. conceived and organized
the revolt m the pueblo. All the brave fellows
who have died are that one man's victims."
His voice broke with emotion. "He is the one."
his voice nsmg almost to a scream of hate, "who
beg^ It all. He has been a traitor to both sides-
a red-handed murderer."
yanuela;s easy smile had a trace of contempt,
l^or Dios, colonel. I cannot dream of any
reason for so wild a charge unless it be that the
lieutenant s reverses as a lover have inspired in
him a desire to injure a more favored rival. You
will understand, colonel," he added, as he leered
insultingly at CarroU. "We both admire the
same lady. The lieutenant is vindictive "

Vanuela's calm assurance, and especially his
last words, maddened the lieutenant. Sprinrine
forward, he drove his fist full in Hugo's face and!
wild with uncontrollable passion, struck him
agam and again in the mouth, sending him in a
heap agamst the wall. The Califomian. spitting
blood and teeth, staggered to his feet and drew
his sword. He stopped suddenly; he was staring
mto the muzzle of a pistol in the hands of Colonel
Fremont.

"Swaseyl Bryant!" caUed the colonel, now
boihng with anger at a brawl in his presence.

AN HONORABLE PEACE

391

ther^'^' "^°' "'^ "^ ^-^' h-d rushed into
"Cover them with your rifles qfo«^ *i,

" mT^. '.. "* ""' '^°"''^' ""^ «»1 ^d deliberate

rf the table, the pistol still i„ his hand, "welfe
8omg o get at the facts, and some one i goto. ^
suffer for this disgraceful scene " ^

tw? *^ ?»'^'='«s of the loaded rifles gapine in
the^ faces, Carroll and Vanuela stood ^th thdr

witn blood, flowing in a steady stream frn.r, k-
banered mouth. Carroll was ^hittr^-^^'g^

''Now, lieutenant, teU your story."
That man there, in company with a Rn>ici,

m^e pueblo as Almagro, instigated the revo°™

"MacNamara!" he exclaimed. 'Thelrishn,»„
^ whom Governor Pico made the td ^„^
But A« was a priest." ^

■'Never a Pnest-an English anny officer."

"thaTi; t^f ^h: ir^^i^r '^'°"'^'

xie was an linglish secret agent,

.if

I ■■'■

39a THE DONS OP TH^^ OLD PUEBLO

and I killed him when I discovered his plans.
Here are his papers to prove it. I am glad the
lieutenant and myself have one point on which
we can agree."

Hugo hai never intended, in spite of his boasts
to Arillo, to deliver the Englishman's documents
to Fremont. The forged signatures would neces-
sitate too many explanations. But the unexpected
condition of affairs by which he was confronted
had forced his hand. As he passed the blood-
stained papers to the colonel, his bleeding mouth
twisted in a confident smile.

"Yes," retorted Carroll, "you murdered him
in cold blood after you had taken his gold-
worked with him as his spy — led him on."

"But '"or what— why— I do not understand,"
Fremont demanded.

"For a personal revenge only — that Don
Jos6 Antonio Arillo might be led to break his
parole — that he might die on the scaffold. This
man has hated Arillo for years. He is a half-
breed Indian, whom the gente de razon would
never recognize as their equal. For years they
have scorned him, as they scorned his father."

"Colonel," said Vanuela pityingly, "the man
merely vents his personal enmity to make such a
charge against me. Don Jos6 Antonio is a very
good friend of mine; he — "

"Shoot him where he stands if he utters another

AN HONORABLE PEACE 393

word.'' Fremont said to the guard in front of
Vanuela. The Pathfinder's experienced eye had
quickly noted the confirmation U Ca- -oU's words
m Hugo's swarthy face and high cheek bones.

Ill have this story without interruption,"
he continued. "Go on. lieutenant. How do you
know all this? What proof have you?"

Like some Olympian avenger. Carroll stood
before the fast paling conspirator. Link by link
he told the story of Vanuela's machinations.

Scorned by the quality of the pueblo, ostra-
azed on account of his Indian blood, ever vicious,
with the vendetta inherited from his father, it
was this man who inspired these peaceful people
to hopeless revolt, disaster, and death. His

1 ?n^^ *° P^°^ *^^ revolution, working
with MacNamara and using his gold freely among
the young, hot-blooded youth of the pueblo
Then he became Captain Gillie's spy, that he
might also use him to gain his end— his revenge
on AriUo. Working with both sides, he had
wonderful influence. It was he who gave to
Gillie a list of alleged conspirators and had them
dragged to prison in chains because of a boyish
escapade which he himself had inspired with his
hquor and gold. This caused the first deaths
those of young Reyes and old Yorba.

"The Dons, whose humiliation he thus accom-
phshed, are men of the highest honor. They had

'-i"i

.,*•

394 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

kept the terms of their paroles to the letter until
Captain Gillie himself broke its one unwritten
condition, that their persons and property sliould
be respected —broke it by dragging them from
their beds, from their weeping families, and
loading them with chains. This is no time for
niceties. With all due respect for Captain Gillie,
who will bear witness to the truth I am speaking,
it was Vanuela's hatred of the Dons, and especially
of Arillo, the plotting of the English spy Mac-
Namara, and the errors of the captain as an
administrator, and nothing else, that have caused
and continued this war."

There was no sound in the little room but the
resonant tones of Carroll, high pitched, rever-
berating from wall and ceiling. Premont was
intent and eager; Vanuela, contemptuous, cynical,
almost debonair, smiling at each point Carroll
made and clinched like a prosecutor before a
court.

The guards, forgetful of orders, moved by the
intensity of the strange scene, allowed their
rifle muzzles to sink to the ground as they blinked
wonderingly in the insufficient light.

"But that is not all. Perhaps the exigencies
of war might excuse him, were he not a spy, a
miu-derer, and an assassin. From his own lips
have I heard the story of his villainy. On my
way to reach you I ahnost stumbled on the

AN HONORABLE PEACE 395

Califomian camp, and took refuge in the branches
of a great tree. I saw him disarm AriUo and
then proceed to torture him, taunting him with
his own helplessness— Arillo was tied hand and
foot— and boastingly unfold to him the story of
the success that would soon attend his planning
of months. All of this as a preliminary to as
diaboUcal and cold-blooded a murder as man made
in the image of God ever premeditated. His
dagger was at Arillo's throat when I fired from
the tree. Note his head. Colonel, where the
ball grazed the scalp. Oh, that it had gone
truer!"

Fremont stepped closer to Vanuela, parted with
his fingers the yellow hair over his ear. His face
hardened as Carroll further detailed the cruel
deliberation of Vanuela's attempt to take Arillo's
life, the sudden appearance of the Califomians,
and the escape of both into the arroyo.

"But wait," commanded the lieutenant, as
Fremont's face gave signs of his feelings. ' ' There
IS one thing more you must know. He claims
to be our friend, yet but for him the pueblo
would have been peacefully surrendered to
Stockton last October. Arillo was ready, Alvaro
was ready, Cota was ready, their officers were
ready. But Vanuela, traitor to both sides
anxious only for the success of his own damnable
revenge, prevented it by a forged message to the

396 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

man who was to give the signal for the flag of
truce. Benito Willard himself will testify to this.
And why? Because such a surrender would
permit Arillo to live.

"In the still night at San Gabriel he murdered
the Englishman MacNamara- -stabbed him to
death because he had no further vse for him, and
because he wished to see the Americans victorious
and the men who had been forced by the pressure
of events to break their paroles die— to see
Don Jos6 Antonio Arillo die a felon's death on
the scaffold.

"As I heard him boast to the helpless Arillo,
he comes now to make of Fremont the same dupe
he made )f MacNamara, of Flores, of Gillie, of
every one who ever listened to his serpent tongue.
Of you he hopes to make a tool to wreak his
vengeance on Arillo — "
"Wait a moment."

Fremont, absorbed, enthralled by the burning
words of CarroU, words that came flowing from
a heart for months laden with sorrow and appre-
hension, had forgotten the blood-stained papers
in his hands. "Wait till I look at these."

Quickly he ran his eye over the credentials of the
secret agent, signed by a member of the British
cabinet, and the petition to the British admiral
at Monterey with its long list of Califomian sig-
natures, smeared with MacNamara's blood.

AN HONORABLE PEACE 397

"It all confirms your tale, lieutenant. But
these signatures— if they be genuine— The
man seems to have done us some service."

"Forgeries, every one of them. He fooled the
Englishman. I heard him admit it to Arillo.
He played traitor to MacNamara even as he be-
trayed his own country. True, he wished us to be
victorious, but only that Arillo might die. God
how he taunted that bound and helpless man,
insultmg even the virtue of his daughter, tiU
I could bear it no longer, and I fired upon
him." *^

Fremont glared at Vanuela. Hugo had but
one card left— his bravado.

"ShaU I not be heard?" he demanded, in spite
of the threatening muzzle before his face.

"You shall," said Fremont, "at your trial, and
may God have mercy on your soul. Guards,
take him away."

Before Hugo and the guards reached the door,
a slight, dark-bearded Califomian stepped within
the room. As Vanuela stared at him, despair
came into his face.

"Don Jesus Pico— alive!" he gasped. His
face grew suddenly aged. With head bent, he
followed the guard out the door. Hugo Vanuela 's
hop^ was fast oozing away.

At Vanuela's startled words CarroU's heart
bounded with joy. Don Jesus Pico, who had

\ WMi :t--^ ~'i\ .U--

MtHk

398 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

broken his parole— Don Jesus Pico, whom Pre-
mont was reported to have court-nuutialed and
•hot at San Luis Obispo weeks ago, stood before
him, alive and well I Then Premont had already
shown mercy. Now was the time to plead for
the life of his friends.

"In God's name, colonel, have mercy. It is
true you can easily attack and capture them.
Such an action woidd make of them prisoners of
war, and as such, subject to a court-martial for
breaking their paroles, a court-martial to which
there could be but one result.

"Colonel Fremont, spare these men of the
pueblo! These gentle, high-minded Dons are not
and never have been our enemies. We have driven
them to war, and now we would murder them for
sins that never were theirs. I believe they are
willing to surrender. Grant them terms that tb-^v
can honorably accept — terms that will include
forgiveness for the broken paroles."

Again he held Fremont's eyes captive while he
vividly pictured events in the pueblo leading up
to the riot at the gate, — the burdensome regula-
tions laid on the shoulders of a free people, the
harsh rule of Gillie, and the midnight arrest of the
Dons. As Gillie's name fell again from his lips,
Fremont nodded comprehendingly.

"A brave man, a good soldier, but tactless —
tactless. But wait — I have forgotten. The

AN HONORABLE PEACE 399

commodore's dispatches." h- udd. as he turned
to the table.

As he peered over the unfolded papers, hU
brown unshaven face darkened with displeasure,
and a look of worriment wrinkled his brows.

Cwnmodore Stockton's instructions are plain
enough, he sighed. "Unconditional surrwder
of their armed forces, and no amnesty to be

nJ^'^J*"' t '^^' ^^ ^^ mentioned. Plores.
Anlb. Garfias. Alvaro. Pico, and D« la Gueira ''

^ But you have information." persisted CarroU,
of which Commander Stockton never dreamed
In the light of my evidence and your own deduct
tions. to carry out Stockton's instructions and to
place these men in the hands of a court-martial of
his and Kearney's men. smarting as they are over
the defeats at Dominguez and San Pascual. would
be equivalent to their unjustifiable slaughter "

Fremont's brow puckered. He was far more of
a scientist than a soldier. Never a stickler for
military etiquette, he had allowed the subordinate
to become, as it were, a pleader before him

"Colonel," persisted Carroll, "has there not
been blood enough already— bloodshed that, as
^ we now know, was useless and unnecessary?
tJoth sides have made mistakes."

"In the days to come." came the gentle voice
of Don Jesus Pico, strangely convincing and
soothmg after CarroU's impassioned tones, "shall

J- :

r». C'JV."'

400 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

the historian write that the Americans began
their rule in California with an act of vengeance
or by a deed of mercy? Shall the Calif omians of
the future love or hate the name of Premont?
Think well, my friend. Thou art making history
now."

There was a dead silence in the room. Fre-
mont's leathern face showed no effect of his
pleader's arguments. His wonderful, piercing
eyes were veiled in thought as he stared fixedly at
the floor, and nervously twisted a strand of his
ragged beard. Then, raising his head, he said
grimly and almost aggressively:

"I do not know what my superior officer, the
commodore, will say; I do not know what the
war department will say; I do not know, Don
Jesus, what your historian will say. But I do
know what I am going to do."

He paused; the two men hung breathless on
his words.

"Don Jesus, ride at once to the Calif omian
camp at the San Pasqual and tell them," — he
smiled quizzically at Pico — "tell them that you
are still alive, and that they need have no fear
of me. I will grant them an honorable peace."

CHAPTER XXXV

AT c.\utifi:ga pass

T IGHTS burned 'o\^ . and m(v\ spoke in subdued
^^ whispers in inc ranch louse of the San
Pasqual.

Don Jos6 Antonio Arillo, still weak and
unnerved, his cheek bandaged, lay on a couch,
while about him gathered the Dons, awed by his
recital of Vanuela's treachery and attempt at
cold-blooded murder.

Mercurial of temperament even in timesof peace,
their impulsive hearts sank as they listened to the
revered Arillo, whose sturdy frame and well-poised
mind had been to them a tower of strength in the
more promising stages of the war. .

Not only amazed were they, but filled with
superstitious fear. It was Vanuela, they concluded,
and not the mysterious American who had sought
refuge at the Devil's Rock, where, as their terror-
stricken men had told them, the Black Matador
had appeared to save the fugitive from vengeance.
The accursed specter's coming was ever portentous
of disaster and death.

As for the imknown American, they asstmied
he was an accomplice of Vanuela, and that both
were now well on their way to the pueblo. The
stranger's identity was imknown even to Arillo,

26 401

'<^•

',f

403 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

who had lost consciousness the moment before the
pistol shot rang out from the oak. Hugo's
statement to Arillo that Fremont was but a few
miles distant, they believed to be the boastful
braggadocio of the moment. Fremont's cavalry
battalion had last been heard of many miles to
the north. That he could have reached the neigh-
borhood of the pueblo, over mountain passes,
amid the inclement weather of the last week, was
incredible.

The silence was broken by the snap of Don
Augustin's snuffbox.

"For Dios," he muttered, "it is no marvel
that Vanuela escaped. The devil loves the son
as well as he did the father."

Open burst the door, and a Califomian rushed
into the room. His fear-distorted face and pant-
ing words brought them startled to their feet.

"God and his angels!" he gasped, faint with
terror. "It is the spirit of Don Jesus Pico him-
self ! I saw his face — I heard his voice! He
spoke to me from the bushes behind the hill —
Don Jesus, who has been dead for two weeks."

Instinctively every man crossed himself. Horror
upon horror was being thrust upon them. Crushed
by disaster and defeat, their souls darkened by
the shadow of a shameful death, dumbfoimded
by the discovery of Vanuela's villainy, awed by
the reported apparition of the Black Matador —

AT CAHUENGA PASS 403

to them it seemed but the fitting culmination of
a night of terror that the spirit of the dead Don
Jesus, whom aU knew and loved, should come to
them with a message of warning. Not a man
doubted. The lips of several were moving in a
silent appeal for protection against the powers of
the unseen world with which .he night seemed
filled. Their brave hearts, for which the deadly
roar of battle had no terror, were shaken with the
crawling fear of the unknown.

Don Andreas was the first to recover.

"Dead or Uving," he said courageously, "my
cousm Tortoi will not harm me. I myself will
go to meet him," he added, as he took his sword
belt from a peg on the wall.

As he stepped toward the open door an uncertain
figure loomed fi-k against the square of starlit
sky. Wrappe. . .■ l gray serape, the face shad-
owed by the b .^ brim of a sombrero, in the
wavering light of the flickering candle flames the
form seemed dim and spectral.

Not for a moment did Don Andreas hesitate.
Meetmg the newcomer halfway, he extended his
hand and said in a voice vibrating with emotion:

"Jesus— Tortoi— my cousin, is it thou ? D'^ad
or living, speak! Hast thou a message for
me?"

Don Jesus glanced slowly around the shadowed
room. He noted the awed faces of the Dons,

404 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

their expectant, half-crouching attitudes. Re-
moving his sombrero, he cast it on the table and
smiled at them reassuringly.

"Siu-ely am I alive, caballeros — very much
alive, thanks be to the Holy Mother. Yet, as thou
sayest, Andreas, it is so; I have indeed a message
for thee, cousin, a message for all of you."

Around him they pressed, touching his face,
feeling of his garments, grasping his hands as if
to assure themselves of the truth of his words and
the testimony of their own senses. Don Andreas,
with a choking sob of gladness, enfolded his
cousin in his arms,and kissed him demonstratively.

"Hearken, friends," said Don Jesus, when they
had recovered from their surprise. "I bring you
a message of good cheer. Colonel Fremont with
his 'Bears' is but twenty miles away, near the
Cahuenga Pass. He it was who saved me from
death — pardoned me when I had been condemned
to death by a court-martial at San Luis Obispo.
He, Fremont, bids me say to you that he is ready
to grant you an honorable peace — a peace
which shall wipe ouo all the mistakes and errors
of the past."

As the first rays of the rising sun drives the
gloom of night from darkened plain and forest,
so did the unexpected words of Don Jesus bring
sudden joy and gladness to the haggard coim-
tenances of the condemned men. For a space no

AT CAHUENGA PASS 405

man spoke; they were gazing at him almost
mcredulously.

The princely head of Don Jos6 Antonio had
dropped to his breast, and his lips were trembling
in a silent prayer of thanksgiving. Don Augus-

snuflbox. his face impassive save for a grim look

Tn ' w?f u":, .^"^ ^^' ^^"«^^^S' *« «id little
laugh that had m it an hysterical note. Cota's

face was m his hands, his shoulders moving trem-
ulously De la Guerra, as he leaned back against
tne v/all, tappeu his finger ends together and
muttered: 'Tor Dios-por Dios-j^r D^r

Then as the full import of the words of Don
Jesus penetrated their sorrow-laden souls, th^y
broke out into a chorus of exclamations. The
mighty strain was ended. But Flores and Ga-fias
sat unmoved; they had no confidence in the prom-

cIlifomfa''"°'''' ^"""^ ^'"^' ^^^^ '" '^"^^^ ^"

"No," said the commandant stubbornly "I

do not trust the word of Fremont any more Uian

PpH n Sf '■ ^ .^^^^"^^^^ t^« c^-inon at San
Pedro. The promises of such land pirates are
but as the marks on the sands of the seashore.
1 ou may go, if you will. I recall the old proverb,

'El pez que busca el anzuelo
Busca su duelo.' i

»"The fish that seeks the hook seeks its death."

4o6 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

I shall start for Mexico while yet there is time.
But," he continued, "I will appoint Don Andreas
here commandant. He may consummate the sur-
render if he will. On that shameful paper future
generations shall never read the name of Don
Jos6 Maria Flores. Who rides with me? The
road is open; we can escape."

"I will," said Garfias.

As they passed without the door Don Jos6
Antonio silently drew his sword, and cast away
the scabbard. His eyes were resting on Flores.

"Pardon, Don Jos6 Maria. There is a score
you must first Settle with me." In Arillo's
voice there was neither anger nor bitterness, but
the inflexible sternness of an upright judge.

Flores started. "The boy, then — is — dead?"
he queried.

Don Jose Antonio nodded.

Sighing regretfully, Don Jos6 Maria bared his
blade. As the clang of steel came to Don Jesus,
standing a few feet away, he rushed to them and
struck up their weapons with his own.

"God and his angels ! " he cried. ' ' What means
this?"

Briefly Arillo told him the story of Jos6's mis-
sion and added :

"And now the boy is dead — shot as a spy. He
— he," the Don could not bring himself to utter
Vanuela*s name, "told me of it last night."

AT CAHUENGA PASS 407

"He lied, the accursed son of Satan, he lied'"
cned Don Jesus. "The boy lives, and is free—in
the camp of Fremont. I spoke with him but
yesterday."

Flores, greatly relieved, and Arillo, gladness
showing m his face, gravely clasped hands.

Before the eastern sky was white with coming
day, Flores, Garfias, and a dozen others of the
Califomian officers were galloping eastward to-
ward the San Gorgonio Pass, en route to Mexico
while Don Andreas Pico. Arillo, Rico, Cota,'
De la Guerra, and Alvaro, accompanied by Don
Jesus, were hurrying westward toward the
Cahuenga Pass.

It was broad daylight ere they halted and dis-
mounted at the door of the vaquero's hut where
Fremont had established temporary headquarters.
Their mien was a strange mixture of the anxiety
of the moment and the habitual dignity of their
race as they filed silently into the bare little room
where sat Colonel Fremont and Lieutenant John
Carroll. At their entrance the Pathfinder rose to
his feet and greeted them with a cordiality that
brought smiles of relief to their worried faces.

"We feel," said Don Andreas, after he had
told of the flight of Flores and his own appoint-
ment as commandant, "that we have done all
that men can do." There was sad resignation
but no humiliation in his bearing.

is:nzajF

'i^

4o8 THE DONS OF THE OLD PUEBLO

"It is both a pleasure and a duty to grant
generous terms to men who have fought so bravely
for their native land," Fremont responded gravely.
Silently the Dons bowed in recognition of his
complimentary words.

Pacing in his quick, nervous way up and down
the little room, Fremont dictated the terms of the
treaty, turning every now and then to the Dons,
who nodded their consent at the end of each
clause.

The Califomians were to surrender all their
public arms and ammimition; they were to be
permitted to depart peacefully to their homes;
each should have the privilege of becoming a
citizen of the United States or of retaining his
Mexican citizenship.

He paused abruptly; for a space his eyes sought
the floor. The Dons moved uneasily; no word
liad been said of the broken paroles. They had
trusted the American; they were here in his armed
camp, in his power. Could it be possible, that,
as Flores had warned them, they had but been
lured to their death? Had Don Jesus himself
been deceived? Was it not this very man, who
now held their lives in the hollow of his hand —
was it not at his orders that Scout Carson and
his Indians had shot to death the unarmed
Berryessa boys? Their paling faces showed they
feared the worst.

AT CAHUENGA PASS

409

Fremont's brilliant eyes again swept their

Sf latil'^ ^^'^^ "- ^"^-« ^^^ ^-ument at

"Write this, lieutenant," he said: " 'The com-
miss^oners. on the part of Lieutenant ColTel
Fremont, agree and bind themselves, on the ful-
thaTll;'^ other articles by the Califomians.
nroL. T .'^^" ^ guaranteed liberty and

protection whether on parole or otherwise.-'

And this," he added, after a moment's pause:

citfzens fo" "' *'' ''"^^'°"^^^" ^^y' -^^^her
citizens, foreigners, or others, shall receive the

protection guaranteed by this article ' "

Slowly John Carroll traced the words His

hand trembled, and the letters forming tnefth

his pen quivered through the mist that gathered

before his sight. Don Jos6 Antonio's eyes w^r^

gazing at hmi the .ecorder of his life warranl

At last, at last, the nightmare of months was

gone never to return. As the lieutenant drew

^JTw "T' ""^ ^'' ""^°*^°"' ^he colonel
gazed at him, and smiled knowingly

m.n !!k ^^^ ^"f^l °^^" ^^ ^^^^ solemnity of
men who realized that their native land, the fairest

hands of their race to the rule of the stranger

410 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

that they were participants in an event that
would effect the lives of millions yet unborn, the
Dons stepped forward one by one and gravely
afiSxed their signatures to the document. As the
last man laid down the pen, the impressive silence
gave way to a hum of felicitations on the advent
of peace.

The fate of California was decided.

"May the good God give your people the

isdom to rule wisely and well," said Don Jos6
Antonio, as he pressed Premont's hand.

"Amen, I say to that, with all my heart,"
returned the Amferican.

Without eithei having spoken, Don Jos6 An-
tonio Arillo and Lieutenant John Carroll together
sought the glory of the sunlit morning Around
them the land, from which the scourge of war had
been lifted, smiled in all its wondrous beauty of far-
flung mesa and azure motmtains. Beneath a sky
of arching blue, the larks were rising from the
lush green meadows, trilling their cheerful song
in sympathy with the joy-filled hearts of the two
men, as with clasped hands they stood gazing
into each other's eyes. Por a space neither spoke ;
it was a moment too sacred for words.

Arillo was the first to break the silence.

"It was thou, Juan," — it was the first time he
had ever used the familiar form of address or
called the lieutenant by his first name, — "it was

AT CAHUENGA PASS 41,

thou who fired the shot at the oak last night. Don
Jesus has told me all."

CarroU told him the tale— his fight with Vanuela,
the arrival of the horsemen, the wild dash up the
arroyo, his narrow escape at the Devil's Rock, the
appearance of the Black Matador, and the death
of Palera.

"Servolo— Servolo— was—the Black Matador
— Ser\^olo dead. Jesus Maria!" exclaimed the
Don, aghast. "Poor lad— poor lad I All Cali-
fornia loved him."

As the lieutenant, continuing, told of his own
wild ride through the night, of his horse dropping
dead of exhaustion at Fremont's door, the scene
in the Pathfinder's presence, the discomfiture and
imprisonment of Vanuela, there was open admira-
tion in Arillo's full-orbed gaze. Laying his hand
on Carroll's shoulder, he said reverently:

Ah, my friend Juan, God is good. Above all
he is good to me— in giving to me such a son,"
he added meaningly.

Hurrying footsteps behind them caused the Don
to turn his head. A young man, breathless and
excited, was running toward them. It was Jos6.
Lieutenant Somers strode along a few feet behind
him.

The boy threw himself upon Arillo, his face
radiant with joy.
"Father, father," he panted, "thou art well

41 a THF DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

and safe, and I — I — I have found my father — my
real father. This," he babbled, turning to Somers,
"this is my father— -Don Jos6 Antonio Arillo."
Then as his glad gaze turned again to Somers,
"This is my father."

Half hysterical with happiness, half amused by
the confusion of his '^wn disjointed words, the
boy threw back his ruddy head and laughed in the
sheer exuberance of happiness.

The sound of creaking wheels and shuffling
hoofs came to them from up the pass. The Cali-
fomians were marching into camp. With down-
cast mien and averted eyes, the column of horse
moved slowly on imtil in front of the colonel's
headquarters. Lieutenant McLane, Fremont's
aide, stepped forward to receive the arms.

"Two cannon," he said, as he made a note on
a slip of paper in his hand.

"Yes, seflor," drawled Don Andreas, who,
seated on his horse, was assisting in the details
of the siurender. "That, seflor, is the cannon
your General Kearney presented us with at San
Pascual. He was as loath to part with it then as
we are now."

McLane grinned good nattu-edly.

"Now your powder, Don Andreas."

A Califomian stepped his horse out of the
ranks and handed to the American a small bundle
tied up in a red handkerchief.

AT CAHUENGA PASS

413

"The powder, seftor."

anf j^o/'l'T"'P' """«•" ^'^l"' of the green

proudraCiuf s"o:r:Sr r„a'r'

acr<^ the pommel of Cota's sadl ""^ '"'"«

^Your colors, seflor." he said «>'urteously but

falfwfl ''\'""'«J head. Cota's tears were

mlrK^ .1 ^^ '^«' "-rough all these wearv
months the flag that had seen the Tacls rf

a^:^the h^ " u^""""^^'' ^hat had tved
above the blood-soaked field of San Pascual »„H
the ™jd charges at the river and the m^ LtSf

Xe::rs'""" °°" "^ *° '-« -"^^^ ^

Slowly Francisco raised the staff fmt^ i,-
P«^ While his shoulders shooltn^vety
^ before he handed it to the American, who
stood^wmtrng patiently, his own eyes mrt X

.i.V

414 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

sympathy, Cota lifted a comer of its silken folds and
pressed it to his lips with almost religious reverence.
The curtain had fallen on the last scene in the
conquest of California.

Farther up the pass, from behind the flap of a
tent, Hugo Vanuela gazed down the roadway.
A few feet away stood a guard, leaning on his
rifle. Hugo had been noting the signs of sup-
pressed excitement in the camp.

"Have the Califomians surrendered?" he asked
the American.

"Yes, senor," returned the American. It was
the frontiersman Who had witnessed the scene in
Fremont's presence, and his dislike of Vanuela
was plainly apparent in his thin, keen face.

"And there ain't going to be no one hanged,
eithCT, seflor. The colonel just up and pardoned
them all," he added, as he gazed into Vanuela's
clouded countenance.

"But Commodore Stockton — he — "

The frontiersman stopped in the middle of his
short beat in front of the prisoner's tent and stared
at him contemptuously.

"Stockton — hell!" he snorted truculently.
"The colonel has a hundred more men than Stock-
ton. We'd chase Stockton and his fool sailors
into the sea, if Fremont gave the word. You
don't seem to like the news none, sefior."

AT CAHUENGA PASS

415
Uo tt.'^ X*^^" °f "«"<=«» to last words.

Tos* w JiL • ■*°**»"°' Jus hand in that of
Josi. was l«temng gravely to the boy s flowing

^ B^^-l them walked CarroU and So.^^

Jo2° ^"±1' r ^- *" '^e laugh of
Sn !i ?T ^ "^PPioess in the face of
^li„ ,' ^-.tri-^Phant bearing of Car^U.
„„ °°? JT' ^™'" •»« ""ttered bitter^-^ie
young fool J0S6 alive,-AriIlo free and^iinf"

the M^ °f I^ was biting his bruisedTf fin

cam. In his eyes was a fiendish glare Hi.hJl
corrugated, and the hnes of hif^ S^^
mto an expression of . ter despair °^^P^^

ArSo^^LtTHe'^h'''' "^^ °^ "°"«-'
fo^- . ■^^' ^iniself, was a prisoner

feong^vestigation of his connecti^oT^rh
MacNamara -an investigation that could have
^e^sul, a trial for the murder of the E^^

Vaiuela sank upon a roU of blankets and hid

^t^w'~"''^^*°*'- His soul was shakei
not with fear or remorse, for of either the nS
^ mcapable, but with the bitterness 0^0^
mg disappomtment. Yet in the frontiers^s

4i6 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

contemptttous reference to Stockton was a ray of
hope. It must be that Premont had decided to
defy Stockton. His ignoring the commodore's
orders implied as much. There would probably
be civil war between them, as there had been in
the past between the rulers of California. That
would indeed be his opportunity. Stockton
would welcome his aid, and it would be strange
indeed if, during the turmoil of civil strife, he
could not find an opporttmity to wreak his long-
sought vengeance on Arillo.

Quickly he mapped out a course of action. He
must lose no opporttmity to escape. That ac-
complished, he would seek Stockton and join his
forces. If he met death in the effort to win free-
dom, so be it. Even that was better than his
own humiliation before the gente de razon.

"The colonel wishes the ijrisoner brought to
his headquarters," called one of Fremont's staff
as he cantered past.

As Vanuela, accompanied by the frontiersman,
walked down the slope toward the roadway he
shot a covert sidewise glance at the long hunting
knife in the guide's belt, ahnost within reach of
his hand. He smiled grimly and his eye bright-
ened as he noted, a few yards down the trail, a
group of tmtethered horses.

The two strode on. Hardly twenty feet away
were they when Arillo's happy laugh rang out.

< 1

AT CAHUENGA PASS

417

As it reached Hugo's ears, his eyes took on the
dangerous glitter of a wild beast at bay, and his
face convulsed in insensate fury. In a twinkling
he had forgotten his hope of escape; he saw before
him only the enemy of a lifetime, laughing in
happy abandon.

With lightning-like quickness, Vanuela snatched
the knife from the belt of the guard, broke away
from him, and rushed toward Arillo. For an
instant the frontiersman hesitated, and then his
rifle snapped like the crack of a whip. Don Jps6
Antonio, startled by the report, turned his head
to see Vanuela tumbling forward on his face.

Only a moment, however, and Hugo was again
on his feet, struggling and staggering toward
Arillo, the blood gushing from his neck, the up-
lifted blade in his hand, his face contorted in
maniacal fury. More quickly than Carroll, who
had drawn his sword, could spring forward to
meet him, another rifle spoke from up the pa.ss.
Vanuela reeled, lurched another step, and as the
knife dropped from his nerveless hand he col-
lapsed in a crumpled heap at the feet of Don
Jos6 Antonio.

Jim Marshall, his smoking rifle in his hand,
came whirling down the trail.

"Jehosophat, I sure got him across the sights
after all!" he cried, as he gazed down from his
saddle at the bleeding form on the groimd,

4i8 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

Even with the cold hand of death heavy upon
him, the indonutable spirit of the son of Leo was
manifest. Raising himself slightly on one hand,
his clouding eyes filled with unconquerable hate
fixed full on Arillo, he gasped out a foul oath.
Then his face contorted, his body writhed, and
he sank prone on the grass.
The feud was ended. Hugo Vanuela was dead.
Marshall had not dismotmted. He sat in his
saddle, looking down at the motionless form of
Vanuela.

"I never did count shootin' Indians as regular
killm', nohow," was his muttered comment.

"Good-by, lieutenant," he said, as he reached
down his hand to Carroll. "Must be goin' —
can't stop — carryin' papers for the commodore
to Monterey."

He hesitated for a moment, a quizzical expres-
sion in the look he bent on the lieutenant. Then
with a farewell wave of his hand, he galloped away
across the plains.

At the sound of firing, armed men came rushing
from all parts of the camp. Premont himself,
hatless and excited, came galloping up. He gazed
for a moment at the twisted figure on the blood-
stained grass.
"It is as well," he muttered, as he turned away.
Arillo and his friends, dazed by the sudden
snuflBng out of a human life, stood in awed

AT CAHUENGA PASS

419

in,'3' ?.^°'" '^'' *^^"- "O" horses are
mpatiCTt to carry us to the weeping women in

the pueblo who love-you." he adde/cautio^ "

But m the eyes of Don Jos* Antonio Arillo was

a far-away hght, such as shone eighteen centuries

^„^ »'"' ''^ **"*t a new philosophy to

mankmd. Brave in war, stem in anger pfoud

"^,f- y^,* «'" '^-"'Jy °f heart, the D^ iwed

Ay de ti, he sighed, "he died unshriven "

thp^w"""""^, '''' '°"'"'=" "^ '°°''ed down at
the stiffenuig form of his enemy

a '^r nf I? tr-," ''" »"™-'««i. as he lifted
a «)rner of the blanket, "how Kke to his father
he loote as he lies there. Ah, Juan, life and d^att
axe ahke strange, mysterious, and incomprehen

IS a God who js aU-wise and aU-mereiful, even
we may hope, to such as he." '

He fumbled for a moment in his garments

to Ws r"""?"""^ ■» '"^g^- "e drop^
to has knees and crossed himself. His Hps moved

s^ a^^'""^^'""* ''^^ ^^ CaJ:u
scared at hiin in awed wonder.

Don Jos6 Antonio Arillo was praying for the
mercy of God on the soul of Hugo V^ueS^

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE PASSING OP THE SHADOW

" Have mercy on them.
Have mercy on them.
Have meccy on them."

TEARFULLY and tragically, and with funereal
monotony, the wives and sisters, the mothers
and cousins, the kinsfolk and friends of the Dons,
kneeling within the closely shuttered home of the
Arillos, gave in doleiul cadence their responses to
the litany for the dead.

Heroic in her grief, Sefiora Arillo read from the
much-thumbed prayer book by the light of a
wavering candle flame, and the kneeling assem-
blage in response sent up their repeated suppli-
cations for the souls of the departed men.

According to a rumor which several hours before
had reached the pueblo, the Dons of the army of
Flores, captured by Fremont, tried by a drum-
head court-martial, and stmimarily executed,
had paid the penalty for their broken paroles.
The circumstantial and apparently authentic
report had originated with an Indian peon
who, the night before, while searching for his
horses, had stumbled on the American camp,
where he had been detained as a suspicious

430

THE PASSING OF THE SHADOW

431

person. He had been released in the morning,
but not before he had seen at a distance the fam-
iliar figures of the Dons, and later had heard the
shots that ended the existence of Hugo Vanuela.
A mischievously mendacious frontiersman who
assured him in very bad Spanish that they were
"shooting a dozen prisoners over there," completed
the delusion. In the pueblo his tale, chiming as
it did with their fears for the last two months,
met with instant credence. Manuel and Mariano
had akeady set out for the Cahuenga Pass with
a carreta for the purpose of bringing home the
bodies.

Dulled by a grief too great for comprehension,
Loreto Arillo's eyes looked blankly into the gloom
before her. Her lips answered mechanically in
unison with the others, but there was no fervor
in her devotion, and not even despair marked
her low responses. Delfina sobbed between her
hysterical words, and the others mingled lamen-
tations with their prayers. But now was the
time when strength must be shown by the head
of the house of Arillo, and each pious ejaculation
of the seflora rang clear and fbm, encoiu-aging
and sustaining the others

The world had done its worst. The only
solace lay now in the hope that a benign Prov-
idence might forgive the earthly transgressions
of the departed husbands and fathers, and that

42a THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

in another life aU might be reunited. For the
shameful felon's death, naught on earth could
ever atone. The tarnished honor, the crumbled
pnde, the beggared homes, could know no remedy.
The hangman's noose was the final chapter in
their book of horrors. For the aged, perhaps,
the hope of another life might beckon, but for
Loreto AriUo the rray walls of the cloister already
loomed with alluring promise of peace after the
hurts of time. Again the voice of Seflora Arillo
viorant with sublime faith and hope, inspiring
devotion, enunciated: "Jesus, Infinite Goodness."
Before the lips of the kneeling women could
frame the response, "Have mercy on them," -
soft mascuHne voice replied, "Has given you
back your loved ones."

In the narrow shaft of light from the silently
opened door stood Don Jos* Antonio, the dust
of the road on his beard, his gcrments worn and
stained, but the Mght of love and happiness
and the endearing fatherly smile playing about
his lips.

The reaction was too great. Seflora AriUo,
whose strength had already been taxed beyond
endurance, sank fainting to the floor, while the
others rushed out to meet the returning cavalcade,
which through the open door could be seen enter-
ing the plaza. On the carreta meant to carry the
dishonored corpses of the Dons rode Manuel,

THB PASSING OP THE SHADOW 4,3

i^^^ S^ ^^fr^r* " ^"^

fdatives. their faces^^rt^tTC^fn^

".e noticed the A.„eri<»„ offi J^hS^'o,"!
the doorway o£ the AriMo home

Lo^to'Swlr^.*" J^ r" »*--'•

^^..ehatStrji^r^tLr.,^

ap="and'^^t^;,t;tj^-'--'"
garing at her was T J^^ Z^^ '^
Antonio stiU hun^ vZ Tf' O*" D™ Jos«

424 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

"Loreto!" CarroU stepped forward with out-
stretched hands, a glad, expectant look on his
face.

The girl raised her head with a protid lift,
strangely like her father's. Though the dull
ache was again tugging at her hearUtrings, her
jet-black eyes as they met his were cold and hard.
To her rescue came the courtesy of hei race. The
man before her was no straxiger; he had broken
breed with them; he had once possessed her heart.
Though one of their hated omquerors, he was
yet beneath the roof of the AriUos.

"Serior, our house is yours," she said gravely,
motioning him to be seated; then, oourtesying,
she turned away. The sefiora too, recovering
from her swoon, interpreted Carroll's presence
in the same way, but more diplomatically wel-
comed the enemy within her gates.

"You will leave him with us to-night, Sefior
Lieutenant?" she begged.

But John Carroll did not hear her. He on^
knew that the woman whose entrancing beauty
and once-won heart had been his last thought
when he looked into the leveled muskets of
Ballestos' men, the woman for whom Servolo
Palera died as a zealot dies, the woman for the
sake of vfbose ha^.iness he himself had been
hunted like a wild beast in the darkness of the
night, had welcomed him with a cold civility

THE PASSING OF THE SHADOW 4,5

his f.c :«.'rthr:s"'- ^^^ '«• '«••

But Don Jos* Antonio, with that ouick 1n„<i
»md whoh made him the idol of m Zt,^,
people, had seen it all.

For once heedless of the proprieties in >,,••

them into each other's arms. ""^ ^'^' *"^ "^^d
"Thank Juan Carroll thaf t ««, u •• .

am aiive.—that your sorrow is turned to iov
house of AriUo wiU hve and ^ Td h« o
th« such a man as he has enshrined ^«,eetws

His words seemed to cover aU details as if

^y »»«y and blotted out the horro^f Z
pay- Explanation seemed unnecessary

As he and SeiSoia Arillo passed oi,f ti,. j
to ioin the ioyfully tumultu^tCg L t^
Pla». John Carr^U stood with the wTL" t^
^rr? but happy in his enS^ al^'

Past the half-open casement where Jack C^i
and h« betrothed stood, marched the^ti^'

436 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

of Premont. The story of the Pathfinder's gen-
erosity to the Dons was known now to all the
pueblo. As the men of his command walked
their horses slowly through the crowded plaza,
they saw about them none but smiling fp'^es, far
different from the scowls and muttered curses
that had greeted Stockton's saT!ors only two days
before. The excitement of ilv. assembled crowd
manifested itself in a low joyous hiun, growing
ever louder and louder.

"Boom."

As the echoes of the mellow, mournful peal from
the bell ♦ -wer of the old Plaza Church died away,
ever^* ualifomian bowed his head, and stood
reveiently silent.

"Boom."

Another procession was slowly entering the
plaza. Fremont's men, at the word of command,
reined their horses and sat with heads uncovered,
awaiting its arrival.

"Boom."

The bells of the church of Our Lady, Queen of
the Angels were tolling — tolling for Servolo
Palera. Slowly the ftmeral cortege halted, and
lifting the litter on their shoulders, the mourners
bore him toward the open door of the edifice.

The maker of sweet songs was dead, the dreamer
of glorious dreams was no more. For the last
time Servolo Palera was entering the sanctuary of

THE PASSING OF THE SHADOW 437

his fathers, to lie in state in the city he had loved
so well.

Sorrowing, the companions of his boyhood
his comrades of the camp and field, the people of
the pueblo who had joyed in the music of his
voice, whose souls he had stirred with his songs
and melodies till their love unbounded had gone
out to the maker thereof, did silent homage to the
singer whose voice they would hear no more

Gnef-laden, they gazed for the last time on
his peaceful face as they filed past his bier, piled
high with flowers. Strong men and tender-
hearted women sobbed aloud at the sight of the
thing of clay, once quickened by the soul of the
soldier, the patriot, and the poet.

And ever above, from the old gray tower,
came the mournful booming .^^dence of the tolling

Within the house of Arillo. Loreto, her face
in her hands, leaned against her lover and sobbed
While Carroll's strong arm supported her. It
was her last, her heartfelt tribute to the memor>'
of the man in whose love for her there had been
no touch of earth, a love less human than divine-
the love of a man complete, unselfish, unbounded
m its final sacrifice.

At the other end of the room Jos6 sat on the floor
at the feet of Delfina, his upturned eyes ever on
her darkly radiant face.

4a8 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

'Thou wilt have me now, Ddfina, even
without the shoulder straps, now that I have a
name?" he queried, halt mischievously.

The girl's eyes filled with tears, and as she
brushed back the drooping lock of hair from his
brow she said, "Jos^, Jos6, taunt me not with my
unkindness. Thou fooUsh lad, I loved thee
always, and never more than when I flouted
thee."

Suddenly she started, and sat erect. Clasping
her hands before her, she ejaculated, "Holy
Mother, forgive me! I had forgotten."

Springing to l?er feet, she hurried away toward
the chapel of the Arillo home. Jos6, amazed,
stared after her uncomprehendingly.

John Carroll, glancing at the boy, smiled at
his clouded countenance, but even as he smiled
his own face filled with deep anxiety.

Prosaic but sufficient was the cause of his
uneasmess. - The Keutenant was penniless. Not
for six months had the men of Stockton's or
Fremont's commands received a cent of pay. The
voyage of the specie-laden ship around Cape
Horn had been, it was believed, delayed by
baffling winds. An embarrassing predicament
it was at any time for a man as proud as Jolm
Carroll, but doubly so now that the house of
Arillo would soon be abustle with preparations
for the coming wedding. Well John Carroll

THE PASSING OP THE SHADOW ,„

knew the unwritten law of n,- i j
P«>ple,-that the h^Z,Z^ ^'^ "^ the
to the bride a chest^^T" *'~'<' P"'^"
"^entrich^dXtS:^ ^ overflowing with

of which would be^^^* "T^ ^y ™8lect
ness on the Mrt rfST^ " '"«*'"8 oareless-

-^ a loa^r'artoTiiC'^^rd ^ "^^t^^

at his «^oho on the fZSr.'"* "' "" o'^"*

of the missive a soldier of P~.^. ? ™«™<»y
hf" as he left the Su^^T L' '"'' '^''«'
of the moraine be^^ ""* ««"«nent
Hurriedly ^,i„^i,^,^'«> to open it.
"My dbak Johk:

foW ^ *^* **^ **»« *««>°« them .,dl A,3^

**I thought ye mought be aneedin' .«-.
likeweddia3costalot;thCTir^^^°°°^- Sechthing,

<rf th. de bull ™g Jd^TiTfiLd iti ^*^ -?*^ ^

n«aet« and gold dust. 'TwuTl^nW T.?**?*^*' in coin and
««e Black Matador costoom "^ *' *^* "-^^ «• ~

It WBi this I wanted to teU ye lohn --i.- ,
^ ^ "^ ye, jonn. This ole countcy is

just plumb full of tbe yalla stuff, specially in the hills upaorth.
Per God's sake don't tell any one till the treaty's signed. The
Lord bless ye, John, you will hear of me agin. That's all this
time. The lancbo and the white hoss can wait for awhile.

"Yours truly,

"Jim Maksball.
"P.S. Whose the other fellah playin' Matador? 'Twarn'tme
helped ye get away from the pueblo last summer."

"Juan, what hast thou there?" queried the girl,
with all a lover's privilege now fully established.
"That," replied Carroll, "is my final passport
to Paradise."

Gold and gray, sunshine and shade, checkered
the pueblo. Dazzling white, the adobe walls
threw back the glare of afternoon, in sharp contrast
with the dark roofs and the cool, inviting spots
of shadow. The crowds had dispersed ; the streets
were empty. Silent and peaceful lay the sleepy
city as on the day, years ago it seemed, that
John Carroll reined his horse by a window and
looked for the first time into the eyes of the woman
who on the morrow was to be his bride.

"Mi querida," he whispered, "it was all a
dream. Sorrow, grief, fear, danger, dishonor, —
all are faded away like shadows."

Tremulously she leaned toward him, and as their
eyes met her red lips whispered in reply: "Surely
are they gone, my Prince. The great shadow is
gone, — to threaten us no more. Vanished forever
is the shadow of the sword."

EPILOGUE
gold! gold! gold!

TJARDLY was the ink dry on the treaty of
Gtmdaloupe Hidalgo, which gave California
for all time to the Anglo-Saxon, than Jim Mar-
shaU made good his boast made to John Carroll
on the battlefield of the mesa. The news of the
"accidental" discovery of a gold nugget in a
mill-race where now stands the Uttle town of
Coloma went, as he had prophesied, "ricochet-
ting" around the world.

To the west coast they came, across the arid,
Indian-infested plains, and by the fever-reeking
Isthmus of Panama, the flood of forty-niners,
the somber-faced sons of New England side by
side with genial men of Cavalier stock from
the tidelands of Virginia,— not they alone, but
the bold, the -«?piring, the venturesome of all
nations, lured ca by the magic shimmer of the
precious metal. But on Jim MarshaU fortune
ceased to smile. Other men, more selfish and
unscrupulous, wrested from him the fruits of his
discovery and his hoardings of years, and though
a grateful state granted him a pension, he died
alone and forgotten in his cabin at Coloma, his
dream of a "white hoss" and a rancho unrealized.

431

432 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

For many years Don Jos6 Antonio Arillo
remained one of the foremost figures in the life
of the pueblo. With honor and dignity he served
his cotmtry as mayor, as judge, and in the legisla-
ture of his native state. His unswerving rectitude,
kindliness of heart, and unfailing courtesy ever
held for him the love of his people, and soon won
for him the respect and confidence of the newly
arrived Americans.

But ever dear to his. heart were the ways of the
past. Men there are yet living who have seen
him, on many a day in the early seventies, riding
his horse up Main Street, dad in all the colorful
garb of the past, — laced trousers, gracefully
drooping serape, broad-brimmed sombrero bril-
liant with silver, — his steed prancing and curveting
proudly as if conscious of the worth of the burden
it bore. Many a drowsy summer afternoon
would he foregather in the patio of the Pico Hotel
— that had sprung up at the comer of the plaza —
with his comrades of the past, Don Andreas Pico,
Don Augustin Alvaro, Don Manuel Garfias, Don
Francisco Cota, and many others. There, with
many a laugh and sigh, would they fight over
again the battles of the hopeless cause.

The years have passed in their silent, ceaseless
march. A new century with its ever-increasing
marvels is upon us. Larger, greater, and grander

EPILOGUE ,33

than its brave defenders ever dreamed is the
pueblo of Our Lady. Queen of the Angels.

But the land about is strangely changed. No
longer are the long brown swells and wide-flune
mesas bare and treeless, for everywhere the droop-
mg pepper tree and towering eucalyptus, im-
portations from Peru and Australia, are seen in
P^ps on the hillsides and skirt the valleys with
green Vanished are the cattle and horses that in
countless thousands grazed on the broad acres of
the big ranchos-now the sites of busy cities set
m far-reaclnng fields of rich alfalfa, or orchards
where the dark green orange trees or spreading
wahiuts stand m serried rows.

But here and there, in city and in field alike,
the wandenng tourist finds unexpectedly the
fast-crmnblmg ruins of an old adobe. Often
quite often he may chance to hear from stately
men and dark-eyed women not the gutturi
utterance of the recent Mexican imrmgrant but
the musical and sonorous roU of the o.d CastiUan
speech.

Few indeed of the descendants of the gente de
razon are left in the land of their fathers. To
many, disaster came with two dry winters of
62- 63, years when the cattle and sheep died by
thousands, and their owners sank from affluence
to poverty -reverses which were borne with the
subhme Chnstian fortitude and cahn resignation
98

434 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

of their race. Por others, the proud, old-fash* oned;
confiding honor of the gente de razon -war. but a
poor protection, and from them were stripped,
by means devious and dishonorable, the lands
of their fathers. Some favored few, perchance
by the guidance of kind American friends who
knew the new ways and the new laws, have held
fast to their family acres. They are to be found
to-day holding high places in the business world,
at the bar, and on the bench. Hardly may you
know them from other modem men of the present-
day world, save for the large, full, heavy-lidded
eye and the dignified but gracious courtesy that
marks their speech and manner.

As proud and glad are they to call themselves
Americans as we, but first of all are they
Califomians — Calif omians of the Calif omians.
But to this day their lips curve with scorn when
they teU the tale, as their fathers told it to them,
of the harshness and treachery of Captain
Archibald Gillie, and their eyes will flash with a
pardonable pride when they speak of the days of
the hopeless fight when lance met saber at San Pas-
cual, or the wild charges at the Paso de Bartolo
and the mesa. Even as the son of our south-
land holds dear the memory of the men who died
in vain at Manassas and Shiloh, even as the man
of Scottish blood clings to the memory of "Bonnie
Prince Charlie," the last of the royal Stuart

EPILOGUE

435

line, so do the Califomians of Califomian blood
revere the memory of their own lost cause.

And who shall say them nay?

Perhaps, dear reader, on some winter day
when the blizzards are shrieking across the prairie
wastes of the Missouri, and the snow is swirling
madly in the streets of far-oflf Chicago, a kindly
fate may find you in the balmy winter stmshine
of Los Angeles.

No longer is it the sleepy pueblo of the past,
with bare and sandy streets bordered by adob^
with low verandas. Around you roars the life
and tumult of a great modem dty. In your ears
is the raucous cry of the newsboy, the honk of the
automobile, and the rattle of the trolley car.
Perchance, as you pass the north end of the great
pillared Federal Building, it will be hard indeed
for you to realize that you are standing on the
very spot where John Carroll crossed swords
with Don Jos6 Antonio, and that over there
across the street, a few doors north of where
Commercial debouches into Main, stood the
west gate of the stockade, where, in the darkness
of the night, he who was the "Black Matador"
brought the message of a sorrowing girl to the
man she loved — though his own heart ached
the while for very love of her.

There, too, stood Carroll and his men, as with
bated breath they watched the wild race up the

436 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

dope. As you pass on toward the plaza, between
the lofty buildings, you can glimpse the hill up
which Marshall and his men dragged the gun,
that eventful September day. But of the ram-
parts of the old fort not one trace remains, for
the hilltop, now smooth and leveled, is cumbered
with modem, tree-embowered homes. But you
may stand, if you will, on the very spot where
Gillie signed the shamefully broken treaty with
Flores, for a flag-pole marks the place. And from
above the yawning tunnel at your feet, you may
look down at the courthouse door, where, broken
and battered, stand the cannons he treacherously
rolled into the water at San Pedro.

But if you would peep into the past as far as
you may, go some quiet Sunday morning to the
ancient plaza, where you will hear the old bronze
bells, cast in far-off Spain two centuries ago, pour
forth their mellow csdl, as they did that Sunday
morning so many years ago when Lieutenant
John Carroll first looked into the lovely face of
Loreto Arillo.

Before you lies the plaza, across whidi Don Jos6
Antonio Arillo dragged his clanking chains, but
there is now a fountain in the center, circled by
spreading palms and wax-leaved magnolias. In
vain will you look foi the homes of Arillo and Don
Augustin Alvaro, but the house of Dofia Chonita,
from which Loreto hurried the night Carroll

EPILOGUE ^3y

stiU stands m tins year of our Lord, 19,4-a
patheticajy lonesome figure amidst the towering
blank waUs of the brick warehouses about it
And If, perchance, you cross the river, you will

cornfield that met the gaze of Gillie's beleaguered
m«i as they looked down from their hilltop, but
instead, a vast tangle of raih-oad yards, frowning
factones, gas tanks, and dingy warehouses. But

Po o! ^^^^ t^/ y^"* ^ "^ to the south the
Paredon Bluff (now topped by the pointed
tower^ of the CathoUc Orphanage), behind which

k!;TI .T' '^^ ^^ ""^^ ^""y- still lifting its
bold head above the now empty river bed. And
farther beyond, but hidden from your view, is the
broad mesa where on that fateful afternoon of
January 9. 1847. the Sons of Ancient Spain fought
their ast gallant fight against the aggressive and
relentless Anglo-Saxon.

Along the devious route, toward Pasadena,
far beyond the city's bounds, where marched the
defeated and disheartened Califomians. now
gUde the noisy trolley and silent motor car. On
the very spot where burned their last i>amp fires,
hurrying figures follow the curving flight of the golf
baU across the links, while from the top of the San
Pasqual Hill look down the red-roofed towers of

438 THE DONS OP THE OLD PUEBLO

a great tourist hotel. And near to the foot, half
hidden in the pepper trees, is the adobe where
the men condemned to an ignominious death by
Commodore Stockton held their last despairing
councils, and where Don Jesus Pioo came in the
night with his message of mercy.

Gone are the live oaks and the open parks to
the west, toward the arroyo, save for here and
there a lonely straggler left in street or yard.
But on the high arroyo hill they cluster as of
old. Where once the cattle strayed in fenceless
freedom, paved streets and rows of brown
bungalows now sweep arotmd the foot of the hill
toward the modem Pasadena.

By the arroyo's side the giant oak, a mighty
monarch of the past, stands yet in its lordly mag-
nificence as it stood that far-off night when Arillo
and Vanuela fought in the moonlight beneath its
branches and the unhappy Carroll clung breathless
to the limb above. Over the arroyo still hangs
the Devil's Rock, with its yawning cave, high
above the sunken gardens of a kindly millionaire.

But when fading day dyes the western sky with
bold bands of orange and crimson, and the deep
rich indigo of the mountains softens and melts
into a filmy gray violet, the old theater of love
and hate seems one again with the semblance of
the past. As the green hillsides, the dark forms
of the trees, and the sharp outlines of the btiildings

EPILOGUE ^35

merge into the deepening duskiness of coming
night, over aU the graying world there breathes a

a'Z^h «fT f*?^' ^'^^g the cheek with
a touch of fairy hghtness, from the distant gulches
Of the mountams comes a long-drawn sigh, as if
the Micient soul of Nature were sorrowing secretly
for the days that are no more.

THE END