The Trail-Hunter: A Tale of the Far West

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER VIII.

  THE PRISON.

  Don Miguel had been transferred to the prison of Santa Fe. Europeans,accustomed to philanthropic manners, and regarding human life as of somevalue, cannot imagine what atrocities the word "prison" contains inMexico. In countries beyond sea the penitentiary system is not even inits infancy; for it is completely ignored, and has not even beensuggested yet. With the exception of the United States, prisons are inAmerica what they were at the period of the Spanish dominion; that is tosay, filthy dens, where the wretched prisoners suffer a thousandtortures.

  Among ourselves, so long as a man is not proved guilty, he is assumed tobe innocent; but over there, so soon as a man is arrested, he isconsidered guilty, and consequently every consideration and all pityvanish, to make room for brutal and barbarous treatment. Thrown on alittle straw in fetid holes, often inhabited by serpents and otherunclean animals, the prisoners have more than once been found dead atthe expiration of twenty-four hours, and half devoured. We havewitnessed scores of times atrocious tortures inflicted by coarse andcruel soldiers on poor fellows whose crimes, in our country, would havemerited a slight chastisement at the most. Still, in the great centresof populations, the prisons are better managed than in the towns andvillages; and in this land, where money is the most powerful lever, arich man easily succeeds in obtaining all he wishes, and rendering hisposition at any rate tolerable.

  Don Miguel and General Ibanez had managed to be confined together by theexpenditure of many entreaties and a heavy sum of gold. They inhabitedtwo wretched rooms, the entire furniture of which consisted in a haltingtable, a few leather covered butacas, and two benches which served themas beds. These two men, so powerful by nature, had endured withoutcomplaint all the humiliation and insults inflicted on them during theirtrial, resolved to die as they had lived, with head erect and firmheart, without giving the judges who had condemned them the satisfactionof seeing them turn weak at the last moment.

  It was toward evening of the same day on which we saw Valentine in theclearing. Darkness fell rapidly, and the only window, a species ofnarrow slit that served to light the prison, allowed but a weak anddubious light to penetrate. Don Miguel was walking with long strides upand down his prison, while the general, carelessly reclining on one ofthe benches, quietly smoking his cigarette, watching with childishpleasure the light clouds of bluish smoke which rose in a spiral to theceiling, and which he constantly blew asunder.

  "Well," Don Miguel said all at once, "it seems it is not for todayeither."

  "Yes," the general said, "unless (though I do not believe it) they wishto do us the honor of a torchlight execution."

  "Can you at all account for this delay?"

  "On my honor, no. I have ransacked my brains in vain to guess the reasonthat prevents them shooting us, and I have given it up as a bad job."

  "Same with me. At first I fancied they were trying to frighten us by thecontinued apprehension of death constantly suspended over our heads likeanother sword of Damocles; but this idea seemed to me too absurd."

  "I am entirely of your opinion: still something extraordinary must beoccurring."

  "What makes you suppose that?"

  "Why, for the last two days our worthy jailer, Tio Quesada, has become,not polite to us--for that is impossible--but less brutal. I noticedthat he has drawn in his claws, and attempted a grin. It is true thathis face is so little accustomed to assume that expression, that theonly result he obtains is to make a wretched grimace."

  "And you conclude from that?"

  "Nothing positive," the general said. "Still I ask myself whence comesthis incomprehensible change. It would be as absurd to attribute it tothe pity he feels for our position as to suppose the governor will cometo ask our pardon for having tried and condemned us."

  "Eh?" Don Miguel said with a toss of his head. "All is not over--we arenot dead yet."

  "That is true; but keep your mind at rest--we shall be so soon."

  "Our life is in God's hands. He will dispose of it at His pleasure."

  "Amen!" the general said with a laugh, as he rolled a fresh cigarette.

  "Do you not consider it extraordinary that, during the whole month wehave been here, our friends have not given a sign of life?"

  The general shrugged his shoulders carelessly.

  "Hum!" he said, "a prisoner is very sick, and our friends doubtlessfeared to make us worse by the sight of their grief: that is why theyhave deprived themselves of the pleasure of visiting us."

  "Do not jest, general. You accuse them wrongfully, I feel convinced."

  "May Heaven grant it! For my part, I heartily forgive them theirindifference, and the oblivion in which; they have left us."

  "I cannot believe that Don Valentine, that true-hearted and noble-mindedman, for whom I ever felt so deep a friendship, has not tried to seeme."

  "Bah! How, Don Miguel, can you, so near death as you are, still believein honourable feelings in any man?"

  At this moment there was a great clash of iron outside, and the door ofthe room was opened sufficiently to afford passage to the jailer, whopreceded another person. The almost complete obscurity that prevailed inthe prison prevented the condemned men from recognising the visitor, whowore a long black gown.

  "Eh, eh!" the general muttered in his comrade's ear, "I believe thatGeneral Ventura, our amiable governor, has at length made up his mind."

  "Why so?" Don Miguel asked in a low voice.

  "_Canarios!_ he has sent us a priest, which means that we shall beexecuted tomorrow."

  "On my word, all the better," Don Miguel could not refrain from saying.

  In the meanwhile the jailer, a short, thick-set man, with a ferret faceand cunning eye, had turned to the priest, whom he invited to enter,saying in a hoarse voice,--

  "Here it is, senor padre: these are the condemned persons."

  "Will you leave us alone, my friend?" the stranger said.

  "Will you have my lantern? It is getting dark, and when people aretalking they like to see one another."

  "Thanks; you can do so. You will open when I call you by tapping at thedoor."

  "All right--I will do so;" and he turned to the condemned, to whom hesaid savagely, "Well, senores, here is a priest. Take advantage of hisservices now you have got him. In your position there is no knowing whatmay happen from one moment to the other."

  The prisoners shrugged their shoulder's contemptuously, but made noreply. The jailer went out. When the sound of his footsteps had diedaway in the distance, the priest, who had till this moment stood withhis body bent forward and his ear on the watch, drew himself up, andwalked straight to Don Miguel. This manoeuvre on the part of thestranger surprised the two gentlemen, who anxiously awaited what wasabout to happen. The lantern left by the jailer only spread a faint andflickering light, scarcely sufficient to distinguish objects.

  "My father," the hacendero said in a firm voice, "I thank the personwho sent you to prepare me for death, for I anxiously wished to fulfilmy duties as a Christian before being executed. If you will proceed withme into the adjoining room I will confess my sins to you: they are thosewhich an honest man ordinarily commits; for my heart is pure, and I havenothing to reproach myself with."

  The priest took off his hat, seized the lantern, and placed it near hispale face, whose noble and gentle features were suddenly displayed inthe light.

  "Father Seraphin!" the prisoners exclaimed with a surprise mingled withjoy.

  "Silence!" the priest ordered quickly. "Do not pronounce my name soloudly, brothers: everyone is ignorant of my being here except thejailer, who is my confidant."

  "He!" Don Miguel said with a stupor; "the man who has been insulting andhumiliating us during a month!"

  "That man is henceforth ours. Lose no time, come. I have secure means toget you out of prison, and to leave the town ere your evasion can beeven suspected: the horses are prepared--an escort is awaiting you.Come, gentlemen, for the moments are precious."

  The two priso
ners interchanged a glance of sublime eloquence; thenGeneral Ibanez quietly seated himself on a butaca, while Don Miguelreplied,--

  "Thanks, my father. You have undertaken the noble task of soothing allsorrow, and you do not wish to fail in your duty. Thanks for the offeryou make us, which we cannot, however, accept. Men like us must not giveour enemies right by flying like criminals. We fought for a sacredprinciple, and succumbed. We owe it to our countrymen and to ourselvesto endure death bravely. When we conspired we were perfectly well awareof what awaited us if we were conquered. Once again, thanks; but we willonly quit this prison as free men, or to walk to punishment."

  "I have not the courage, gentlemen, to blame your heroic resolution: ina similar case I should act as you are doing. You have a very slighthope still left, so wait. Perchance, within a few hours, unforeseenevents will occur to change the face of matters."

  "We hope for nothing more, my father."

  "That word is a blasphemy in your mouth, Don Miguel. God can do all Hewills. Hope, I tell you."

  "I am wrong, father: forgive me."

  "Now I am ready to hear your confession."

  The prisoners bowed. Father Seraphin shrived them in turn, and gave themabsolution.

  "Hola!" the jailer shouted through the door. "Make haste; it is gettinglate. It will soon be impossible to leave the city."

  "Open the door," the missionary said in a firm voice.

  The jailer appeared.

  "Well?" he asked.

  "Light me and lead me out of the prison. These caballeros refuse toprofit by the chance of safety I came to offer them."

  The jailer shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

  "They are mad," he said.

  And he went out, followed by the priest, who turned on the threshold andpointed to heaven. The prisoners remained alone.