The White Chief: A Legend of Northern Mexico

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR.

  The Plaza was partially cleared--the open space guarded by lines ofsoldiers. The crowds, closely packed, stood along the sides of thehouses, or filled the balconies and azoteas. The officers, alcalde,magistrates, and principal men of the town, were grouped near the centreof the Plaza. Most of these wore official costumes, and, under othercircumstances, the eyes of the crowd would have been upon _them_. Notso now. There was a group more attractive than they--a group upon whichevery eye was gazing with intense interest.

  This group occupied a corner of the Plaza in front of the Calabozo,directly in front of the window from which Carlos looked out. It wasthe first thing upon which his eyes rested. He saw no more--he saw notthe crowd, nor the line of soldiers that penned it back--he saw not thegaudy gentry in the square; he saw only that group of beings before him.That was enough to keep his eyes from wandering.

  The group was thus composed. There were two asses--small shaggy brownanimals,--caparisoned in a covering of coarse black serge, that hungnearly to their feet. Each had a coarse hair halter held in the hand ofa lepero driver, also fantastically dressed in the same black stuff.Behind each stood a lepero similarly attired, and carrying "cuartos" ofbuffalo-skin. By the side of each ass was one of the padres of themission, and each of these held in his hand the implements of histrade--book, rosary, and crucifix. The priests wore an official look.They were in the act of officiating. At what? Listen!

  The asses were mounted. On the back of each was a form--a human form.These sat not freely, but in constrained attitudes. The feet were drawnunderneath by cords passed around the ankles; and to a sort of woodenyoke around the necks of the animals the hands of the riders were tied--so as to bring their backs into a slanting position. In this way theirheads hung down, and their faces, turned to the wall, could not yet beseen by the crowd.

  Both were nude to the waist, and below it. The eye needed but oneglance at those forms to tell they were women! The long loose hair--inthe one grey, in the other golden--shrouding their cheeks, and hangingover the necks of the animals, was further proof of this. For one itwas not needed. The outlines were those of a Venus. A sculptor's eyecould not have detected a fault. In the form of the other, age hadtraced its marks. It was furrowed, angled, lean, and harsh to the eyeof the observer.

  Oh, God! what a sight for the eye of Carlos the cibolero! Thoseinvoluntary riders _were his mother and sister_!

  And just at that moment his eye rested upon them--ay, and recognisedthem at a glance. An arrow passing through his heart could not haveinflicted keener pain. A sharp, half-stifled scream escaped his lips--the only sign of suffering the ear might detect. He was silent fromthat moment. His hard quick breathing alone told that he lived. He didnot faint or fall. He did not retreat from the window. He stood like astatue in the position he had first taken, hugging the wall with hisbreast, to steady himself. His eyes remained fixed on the group, andfixed too in their sockets, as if glued there!

  Roblado and Vizcarra, in the centre of the square, enjoyed theirtriumph. They saw him at the embrasure. He saw not them. He had forthe moment forgotten that they existed.

  At a signal the bell rang in the tower of the parroquia, and thenceased. This was the cue for commencing the horrid ceremony.

  The black drivers led their animals from the wall, and, heading them ina direction parallel to one side of the Plaza, stood still. The facesof the women were now turned partially to the crowd, but theirdishevelled hair sufficiently concealed them. The padres approached.Each selected one. They mumbled a few unintelligible phrases in theears of their victims, flourished the crucifix before their faces, andthen, retiring a step, muttered some directions to the two ruffians inthe rear.

  These with ready alacrity took up their cue, gathered the thick ends oftheir cuartos around their wrists, and plied the lash upon the nakedhacks of the women. The strokes were deliberate and measured--they werecounted! Each seemed to leave its separate weal upon the skin. Uponthe younger female they were more conspicuous--not that they had beendelivered with greater severity, but upon the softer, whiter, and moretender skin, the purple lines appeared plainer by contrast.

  Strange that neither cried out. The girl writhed, and uttered a lowwhimpering, but no scream escaped her lips. As for the old woman, sheremained quite motionless--no sign told that she suffered!

  When ten lashes each had been administered, a voice from the centre ofthe Plaza cried out--

  "_Basta por la nina_!" (Enough for the girl.)

  The crowd echoed this; and he, whose office it was to flog the youngerfemale, rolled up his cuarto and desisted. The other went on untiltwenty-five lashes were told off.

  A band of music now struck up. The asses were d along the side of thesquare, and halted at the next corner.

  The music stopped. The padres again went through their mumblingceremony. The executioners performed their part--only one of them thistime--as by the voice of the crowd the younger female was spared thelash, though she was still kept in her degraded and shameful position.

  The full measure of twenty-five stripes was administered to the other,and then again the music, and the procession moved on to the third angleof the Plaza. Here the horrid torture was repeated, and again at thefourth and last corner of the square, where the hundred lashes--the fullnumber decreed as the punishment--were completed.

  The ceremony was over. The crowd gathered around the victims--who, nowreleased from official keeping, were left to themselves.

  The feeling of the crowd was curiosity, not sympathy. Notwithstandingall that had passed before their eyes, there was but little sympathy inthe hearts of that rabble.

  Fanaticism is stronger than pity; and who cared for the witch and theheretic?

  Yes--there were some who cared yet. There were hands that unbound thecords, and chafed the brows of the sufferers, and flung rebosos overtheir shoulders and poured water into the lips of those silent victims--silent, for both had fainted!

  A rude carreta was there. How it came there no one knew or cared. Itwas getting dusk, and people, having satisfied their curiosity, andhungry from long fasting, were falling off to their homes. The brawnydriver of the carreta, directed by a young girl, and aided by two orthree dusky Indians, lifted the sufferers into his vehicle, and then,mounting himself, drove off; while the young girl, and two or three whohad assisted him, followed the vehicle.

  It cleared the suburbs, and, striking into a byroad that traversed thechapparal, arrived at a lone rancho, the same where Rosita had beentaken before--for it was Josefa who again carried her away.

  The sufferers were taken inside the house. It was soon perceived thatone no longer suffered. The daughter was restored to consciousness,only to see that that of her mother had for ever fled!

  Her temples were chafed--her lips moistened--her hand pressed in vain.The wild utterance of a daughter's grief fell unheard upon her ears.Death had carried her spirit to another world.