by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN.
From the position he occupied, Carlos did not fail to observe theoutlines of his prison, and search for that point that might be piercedwith least trouble. He saw that the walls were of adobe bricks--strong,enough to shut in an ordinary malefactor, but easily cut through by aman armed with the proper tool, and the determination to set himselffree. Two hours' work would suffice, but how to work that two hourswithout being interrupted and detected? That, was the question thatoccupied the mind of the captive.
One thing was very evident; it would be unwise to commence operationsbefore a late hour--until the relief of the guard.
Carlos had well calculated his measures. He had determined to remain ashe was, and keep up the counterfeit of his being fast bound until suchtime as the guard should be changed. He knew that it was the duty ofthe old guard to deliver him to the relief; and these would assurethemselves of his being in the cell by ocular inspection. He guessedthat the hour of guard-mounting must be near. He would, therefore, nothave long to wait before the new sentries should present themselves inhis cell.
One thought troubled him. Would they keep him in the Calabozo thatnight, or take him back to the Presidio for better security? If thelatter, his only chance would be--as she had suggested--to make adesperate effort, and escape on the route. Once lodged in theguard-house prison, he would be surrounded by walls of stone. Therewould be no hope of cutting his way through them.
It was probable enough he should be taken there; and yet why should theyfear his escape from the Calabozo--fast bound as they believed him--unarmed, guarded by vigilant sentinels? No. They would not dream ofhis getting off. Besides, it would be more convenient to keep him allnight in the latter prison. It was close to the place of his intendedexecution, which no doubt was to take place on the morrow. The garrotehad been already erected in front of his gaol!
Partly influenced by such considerations, and partly that they wereoccupied with pleasanter matters, the authorities had resolved onleaving him where he was for the night, though Carlos was ignorant ofthis.
He had, however, prepared himself for either contingency. Should theyconvey him back to the Presidio, he would seek the best opportunity thatoffered, and risk his life in a bold effort to escape. Should he bepermitted to remain in the Calabozo, he would wait till the guard hadvisited him--then set to work upon the wall after they had gone out. Inthe event of being detected while at work, but one course remained,--runthe gauntlet of the guard, and cut his way through their midst.
His escape was not an affair of such improbability. A determined manwith a long knife in his grasp--one who will yield only to death--is adifficult thing to secure under any circumstances. Such an one willoften effect his freedom, even when hemmed in by a host of enemies.With Carlos, however, the probabilities of escape were much greater. Hewas individually strong and brave, while most of his enemies werephysically but pigmies in comparison. As to their courage, he knew thatonce they saw him with his hands free and armed, they would make way forhim on all sides. What he had most to fear was the bullets of theircarbines; but he had much to hope from their want of skill, and thedarkness would favour him.
For more than an hour he lay along the banqueta, turning over in hismind the chances of regaining his liberty. His reflections wereinterrupted by an unusual stir outside his prison. A fresh batch ofsoldiers had arrived at the door.
Carlos' heart beat anxiously. Was it a party come to conduct him to thePresidio? It might be so. He waited with painful impatience listeningto every word.
To his great joy it proved to be the arrival of the relief-guard; and hehad the satisfaction of hearing, by their conversation, that they hadbeen detailed to guard him all night in the Calabozo. This was just thevery thing he desired to know.
Presently the door was unlocked and opened, and several of the menentered. One bore a lantern. With this they examined him--utteringcoarse and insulting remarks as they stood around. They saw that he wassecurely bound! After a while all went out and left him to himself.The door was of course re-locked, and the cell was again in perfectdarkness.
Carlos lay still for a few minutes, to assure himself they were notgoing to return. He heard them place the sentries by the door, and thenthe voices of the greater number seemed borne off to some distance.
Now was the time to begin his work. He hastily cast the cords from hishands and feet, drew the long knife from his breast, and attacked theadobe wall.
The spot he has chosen was at the corner farthest from the door, and atthe back side of the cell. He knew not what was the nature of theground on the other side, but it seemed most likely that which would lietowards the open country. The Calabozo was no fortress-prison--a meretemporary affair, used by the municipal authorities for malefactors ofthe smaller kind. So much the better for his chances of breaking it.The wall yielded easily to his knife. The adobe is but dry mud,toughened by an admixture of grass, and although the bricks were laid tothe thickness of twenty inches or more, in the space of an hour Carlossucceeded in cutting a hole large enough to pass through. He could haveaccomplished this feat, in still shorter time, but he was compelled towork with caution, and as silently as possible. Twice he fancied thathis guards were about to enter the cell, and both times he had sprung tohis feet, and stood, knife in hand, ready to assail them. Fortunatelyhis fancies were without foundation. No one entered until the hole wasmade, and the captive had the satisfaction to feel the cold air rushingthrough the aperture!
He stopped his work and listened. There was no sound on that side ofthe prison. All was silence and darkness. He pressed his head forward,and peered through. The night was dark, but he could see weeds and wildcactus-plants growing close to the wall. Good! There were no signs oflife there.
He widened the aperture to the size of his body, and crawled through,knife in hand. He raised himself gradually and silently. Nothing buttall rank weeds, cactus-plants, and aloes. He was behind the range ofthe dwellings. He was in the common. He was free!
He started towards the open country, skulking under the shadow of thebrushwood. A form rose before him, as if out of the earth, and a voicesoftly pronounced his name. He recognised the girl Josefa. A word ortwo was exchanged, when the girl beckoned him to follow, and silentlyled the way.
They entered the chapparal, and, following a narrow path, succeeded ingetting round the village. On the other side lay the ranche, and inhalf-an-hour's time they arrived at and entered the humble dwelling.
In the next moment Carlos was bending over the corpse of his mother!
There was no shock in this encounter. He had been half prepared forsuch an event. Besides, his nerves had been already strained to theirutmost by the spectacle of the morning. Sorrow may sometimes eclipsesorrow, and drive it from the heart; but that agony which he had alreadyendured could not be supplanted by a greater. The nerve of grief hadbeen touched with such severity that it could vibrate no longer!
Beside him was one who offered consolation--she, his noble preserver.
But it was no hour for idle grief. Carlos kissed the cold lips--hastilyembraced his weeping sister--his love.
"The horses?" he inquired.
"They are close at hand--among the trees."
"Come, then! we must not lose a moment--we must go hence.--Come!"
As he uttered these words, he wrapped the serape around the corpse,lifted it in his arms, and passed out of the rancho.
The others had already preceded him to the spot where the horses wereconcealed.
Carlos saw that there were five of these animals. A gleam of joy shotfrom his eyes as he recognised his noble steed. Antonio had recoveredhim. Antonio was there, on the spot.
All were soon in the saddles. Two of the horses carried Rosita andCatalina; the other two were ridden by Antonio and the groom Andres.The cibolero himself, carrying his strange burden, once more sprang uponthe back of his faithful steed.
"Down the valley, ma
ster?" inquired Antonio.
Carlos hesitated a moment as if deliberating.
"No," replied he at length. "They would follow us that way. By thepass of La Nina. They will not suspect us of taking the cliff road.Lead on, Antonio:--the chapparal path--you know it best. On!"
The cavalcade started, and in a few minutes had passed the borders ofthe town, and was winding its way through the devious path that led tothe pass of La Nina. No words were exchanged, or only a whisper, as thehorses in single file followed one another through the chapparal.
An hour's silent travel brought them to the pass, up which they filedwithout halting till they had reached the top of the ravine. HereCarlos rode to the front, and, directing Antonio to guide the othersstraight across the table-land, remained himself behind.
As soon as the rest were gone past, he wheeled his horse, and rodedirect for the cliff of La Nina. Having reached the extremity of thebluff, he halted at a point that commanded a full view of San Ildefonso.In the sombre darkness of night the valley seemed but the vast craterof an extinct volcano; and the lights, glittering in the town and thePresidio, resembled the last sparks of flaming lava that had not yetdied out!
The horse stood still. The rider raised the corpse upon his arm; and,baring the pale face, turned it in the direction of the lights.
"Mother! mother!" he broke forth, in a voice hoarse with grief. "Oh!that those eyes could see--that those ears could hear!--if but for amoment--one short moment--that you might bear witness to my vow! Heredo I swear that you shall be revenged! From this hour I yield up mystrength, my time, my soul and body, to the accomplishment of vengeance.Vengeance! why do I use the word? It is not vengeance, but justice--justice upon the perpetrators of the foulest murder the world has everrecorded. But it shall not go unpunished. Spirit of my mother, hearme! _It shall not_. Your death shall be avenged--your torture shallhave full retribution. Rejoice, you ruffian crew! feast, and be merry,for your time of sorrow will soon come--sooner than you think for! Igo, but to return. Have patience--you shall see me again. Yes! oncemore you shall stand face to face with Carlos the cibolero!"
He raised his right arm, and held it outstretched in a menacingattitude, while a gleam of vengeful triumph passed over his countenance.His horse, as if actuated by a similar impulse, neighed wildly; andthen wheeling round at a signal from his rider, galloped away from thecliff!