The Free Lances: A Romance of the Mexican Valley

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

  "IS IT A GRITO?"

  The soldiers of the guard had grounded arms, and were sauntering back totheir benches, when something came into the sergeant's mind which causedhim misgiving.

  Was it possible he had been paying honours to those undeserving of them?

  He was sure of it being the carriage of Don Ignacio Valverde; his horsesand livery too. But nothing more. None of the party was known to himas belonging to Don Ignacio's family or servants. For Jose was butgroom or second coachman, who occasionally drove out his young mistress,but never to the Palace, or other place where the sergeant had been onduty.

  Equally a stranger to him was the big fellow on the box, who had hold ofthe reins, as also one of the gentlemen inside. It occurred to him,however, that the face of the other was familiar--awakening the memoriesof more than ordinary interest.

  "_Mil diablos_!" he muttered to himself as he stood gazing after theretreating equipage. "If that wasn't my old captain, Don Ruperto Rivas,there isn't another man in Mexico more like him. I heard say he hadturned _salteador_, and they'd taken him only the other day. _Carria_!what's that?"

  The carriage, as yet not over a hundred yards from the _garita_, stillgoing on at a rather moderate pace, was seen suddenly to increase itsspeed: in fact, the horses had started off at a gallop! Nor was thisfrom any scare or fright, but caused by a sharp cut or two of the whip,as he could tell by seeing the arm of the big man on the box severaltimes raised above the roof, and vigorously lowered again.Extraordinary behaviour on his part; how was it to be accounted for?And how explain that of the gentleman inside, who appeared satisfiedwith the changed pace? At all events they were doing naught to preventit, for again and again the whip strokes were repeated. None of theparty were intoxicated; at least they had no appearance of it when theypassed the gate. A little excited-looking, though no more than might beexpected in men returning from a public procession. But an elegantlight equipage with horses in full gallop, so unlike the carriage of aCabinet Minister! What the mischief could it mean?

  The guard-sergeant had just asked himself the question, when, hark! agun fired at the citadela! Soon after another from the military collegeof Chapultepec! And from the direction of the Plaza Grande the ringingof bells. First those of the Cathedral, then of the Acordada, and theconvent of San Francisco, with other convents and churches, till therewas a clangour all over the city!

  Hark again! A second gun from the citadel, quickly followed by anotherfrom Chapultepec, evidently signals and their responses!

  "What the _demonio_ is it? A _pronunciamento_?" Not only did thesergeant thus interrogate, but all the soldiers under his command,putting the question to one another. It would be nothing much tosurprise them, least of all himself. He was somewhat of a veteran, andhad seen nigh a score of revolutions, counting _ententes_.

  "I shouldn't be surprised if it is," he suggested, adding, as a thirdgun boomed out from the citadel; "it must be a _grito_!"

  "Who's raising it this time, I wonder?" said one of the soldiers, allnow in a flurry of excited expectancy.

  Several names of noted _militarios_ were mentioned at a venture; but noone could say for certain, nor even give a guess with any confidence.They could hardly yet realise its being the breaking out of a_pronunciamento_, since there had been no late tampering with them--theusual preliminary to revolutions.

  It might not be, after all. But they would be better able to decideshould they hear the rattle of small arms, and for this listened theyall ears.

  More than one of them would have been delighted to hear it. Not thatthey disliked the _regime_ of the Dictator, nor the man himself. Likeall despots he was the soldiers friend; professed and giving proofs ofit, by indulging them in soldierly licence--permission to lord it overthe citizen. But much as they liked "El Cojo" (Game leg), as theycalled him, a _grito_ would be still more agreeable to them--promisingunlimited loot.

  The sergeant had views of his own, and reflections he kept to himself.He felt good as sure there was something up, and could not helpconnecting it with the carriage which had just passed. He now no longerdoubted having seen his old captain in it. But how came he to be there,and what doing? He had been in the city, that's certain--was now out ofit, and going at a speed that must mean something more than common. Hecould get to San Augustin by that route. There were troops quarteredthere; had they declared for the Liberals?

  It might be so, and Rivas was on his way to meet and lead them on to thecity. At any moment they might appear on the _calzada_, at the cornerround which the carriage had just turned.

  The sergeant was now in a state of nervous perplexity. Although hiseyes were on the road his thoughts were not there, but all turnedinward, communing with himself. Which side ought he to take? That ofthe _Liberales_ or the _Parti Pretre_? He had been upon both throughtwo or three alternate changes, and still he was but a _sargento_. Andas he had been serving Santa Anna for a longer spell than usual, withouta single step of promotion, he could not make much of a mistake bygiving the Republican party one more trial. It might get him thelong-coveted epaulette of _alferez_.

  While still occupied with his ambitious dreams, endeavouring to decideinto which scale he should throw the weight of his sword, musket, andbayonet, the citadel gun once more boomed out, answered by the canon ofChapultepec.

  Still, there was no cracking of rifles, nor continuous rattle ofmusketry, such as should be heard coincident with that cry which in theMexican metropolis usually announces a change of government.

  It seemed strange not only to him, but all others on guard at El Nino.But it might be a parley--the calm before the storm, which they couldnot help thinking would yet burst forth, in full fusillade--such as theyhad been accustomed to.

  Listening on, however, they heard not that; only the bells, bells,bells, jingling all over the city, as though it were on fire, those ofthe cathedral leading the orchestra of campanule music. And yet anothergun from the citadel, with the answering one from the "Summer Palace ofthe Monctezunas."

  They were fast losing patience, beginning to fear there would be no_pronunciamento_ after all, and no chance of plundering, when the notesof a cavalry bugle broke upon their ears.

  "At last!" cried one, speaking the mind of all, and as though the soundwere a relief to them. "That's the beginning of it. So, _camarados_!we may get ready. The next thing will be the cracking of carbines!"

  They all ran to the stack of muskets, each clutching at his own. Theystood listening as before; but not to hear any cracking of carbines.Instead, the bugle again brayed out its trumpet notes, recognisable assignals of command; which, though only infantry men, they understood.There was the "Quick march!" and "Double quick!" but they had no time toreflect on what it was for, nor need, as just then a troop of Hussarswas seen defiling out from a side street, and coming on towards them ata charging gallop.

  In a few seconds they were up to the gate, which, being still open, theycould have passed through, without stop or parley. For all, they madeboth, the commanding officer suddenly reining up, and shouting backalong the line--

  "_Alto_!"

  The "halt" was proclaimed by the trumpeter at his side, which broughtthe galloping cohort to a stand.

  "_Sargento_!" thundered he at their head to the guard-sergeant, who,with his men re-formed, was again at "Present arms!"

  "Has a carriage passed you, guard--a landau--grey horses, five men init?"

  "Only four men, Senor Colonel; but all the rest as you describe it."

  "Only four! What can that mean? Was there a coachman in light bluelivery--silver facings?"

  "The same, Senor Colonel."

  "That's it, sure; must be. How long since it passed?"

  "Not quite twenty minutes, Senor Colonel. It's just gone round thecorner; yonder where you see the dust stirring."

  "_Adelante_!" cried the colonel, without waiting to question further,and as the trumpet gave out the "Forward--gallop!"
the Hussar troop wentsweeping through the gate, leaving the guard-sergeant and his men in astate of great mystification and no little chagrin; he, their chiefspokesman, saying with a sorrowful air--

  "Well _hombres_, it don't look like a _grito_, after all!"