"And do you know of such a pretty young damsel?" inquired Arroyo after an interval of silence, which proved that the arguments of his a.s.sociate were not lost upon him.

"Of course I do, and so do you as well--one that you could lay your hands on at any moment."

"Where?"

"Where? At the hacienda of San Carlos. Where else should she be?"

"You mean the Dona Marianita de Silva?"

"Precisely so."

"_Mil demonios, camarado_! Do you intend us to save every hacienda in the country? Of course it is for the sake of pillaging the house, that you wish me to possess myself of its mistress?"

"The owner of San Carlos is a Spaniard," rejoined Bocardo, without making any direct reply to the insinuation of his a.s.sociate. "It would surely be no great crime to take either the wife or property of a _Gachupino_."

"Hold, _amigo_! that Gachupino is as great a friend to the insurgent cause as you or I. He has furnished us with provisions, and--"

"True; but he does it out of pure fear. How can you suppose that any one is a true insurgent, who has chests filled with bags of dollars, drawers crammed with silver plate, and besides," added Bocardo to conceal his true designs, "such a pretty young wife by his side. Bah!

we were fools that we did not also take Don Mariano's two daughters from him, at the same time that we disembarra.s.sed him of his plate. We should have been better off now, and I too should have possessed a beautiful creature, whereas I am still a solitary bachelor. But it's my luck, camarado, always to sacrifice my own interests to yours!"

"Look here, Bocardo!" said the brigand leader after a moment of pensive silence, in which he appeared to reflect upon the proposals of his astute a.s.sociate, "we shall get ourselves into trouble, if we carry on in this fashion. It may end in our being hunted down like a pair of wild beasts."

"We have a hundred and fifty devoted followers," simply replied the other, "every one of them brave and true as his dagger."

"Well!" said Arroyo, still speaking in a reflective tone, "I do not say, but--I shall think it over."

The eyes of Bocardo flashed with a fierce joy as he perceived the undecided bearing of his a.s.sociate. Well knew he that, before the end of that day, he should be able to obtain Arroyo's full consent and co-operation in the dark and terrible deed he had designed to accomplish.

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN.

A REAL VIRAGO.

The two brigands remained for some time without saying a word, both reflecting on the scheme of murder and pillage which they now premeditated. At this moment the tent flap was raised, and a figure appeared in the entrance. It was a woman of masculine mien--a true virago--robust and hale; but whose countenance betrayed the ravage of evil pa.s.sions rather than time. Her coa.r.s.e hair clubbed around her head, and held in its place by a large tortoisesh.e.l.l comb with gold pendants, showed no sign of advanced age. It was black as ebony.

Around her neck were hung numerous chains of gold and gla.s.s beads, to which were attached a number of crosses, scapularies, and other golden ornaments; but in spite of this gaudy adorning her countenance was hideous to behold, and did not belie the portrait of Arroyo's wife which had been sketched by Bocardo, for it was she. As she presented herself at the opening of the tent, rage was depicted in her countenance, exhibiting itself in the swollen veins of her neck and forehead, and in the rolling of her bloodshot eyes.

"A shame on you!" cried she, casting on Bocardo, whom she both hated and despised, the angry look she feared to give her husband, "a shame on you, that after the oath you have taken, there should still remain a stone of this nest of vipers, or a man to defend it!"

"Well--what now?" demanded Arroyo, in an ill-humoured tone. "What nest of vipers are you speaking of?"

"The hacienda Del Valle--what other should it be? There our men--the greater number of them at least--have been besieging it for three days without any result. No, not without result, for I've just this moment learnt that three of our people have been killed in a sortie, and that this accursed Catalan, who commands the place, has nailed their heads over the door of the hacienda!"

"Who has told you this?" quickly demanded Arroyo.

"Gas.p.a.cho. He is outside awaiting your orders. He has been sent to ask for a reinforcement."

"By all the devils!" cried Arroyo in a rage. "Woman! who has given you the privilege of interrogating the couriers that are sent me?"

As he put this interrogatory the brigand sprang to his feet; and, seizing the bullock's skull upon which he had been seated, made a motion as if he would crush with it that of his amazonian partner. Perhaps, influenced by the late councils of Bocardo, he would have decided on bearing the public execration upon his own shoulders, had it not been for that scapulary blessed by the Pope, and whose fatal influence he at the moment remembered.

Bocardo paid no attention to the threatening demonstration of his a.s.sociate, but sat phlegmatically silent.

"_Maria Santissima_!" exclaimed the virago, as she retreated before the angry menace of her husband. "Will you not protect me, Senor Bocardo?"

"Hum!" replied the latter, without moving from his seat, "you know the proverb, worthy Senora? Between the tree and the bark--you understand?

These little domestic broils--"

"Must not occur any more," interposed Arroyo, quieting down; "and now, Senora," continued he, addressing himself to his helpmate, "before receiving Gas.p.a.cho, I have a commission for you to execute."

"What may that be?" brusquely demanded the woman, elevating her tone in proportion as that of her husband became lowered.

"It is a magnificent scheme conceived by me," interrupted Bocardo.

"Ah!" exclaimed the virago, "if you had only as much courage as intelligence, Senor Bocardo!"

"Bah! Arroyo has courage enough for both of us."

"That," said Arroyo, suddenly turning his anger upon his a.s.sociate, who had not the advantage of possessing a charmed scapulary, "that is as much as to say that you have the intelligence for both of us?"

"G.o.d forbid I should either say or think so," rejoined Bocardo in an humble tone; "you are as intelligent as you are brave, Senor Arroyo."

"Wife!" continued Arroyo, without appearing to listen to the fulsome flattery of his a.s.sociate, "go and interrogate once more the prisoner we have taken. Find out if possible what errand he was on--"

"The bird still sings the same tune," responded the woman; "he repeats that he is in the service of Don Mariano de Silva; and that he is the bearer of a message to that mad Colonel, as you call him, Don Rafael Tres-Villas."

At this hated name the shade deepened upon the brow of the bandit.

"Have you found out what this message is?" he inquired.

"The fellow insists upon it that it is of no importance. What do you suppose I found in his pockets, when we were searching him?"

"A vial of poison, perhaps?"

"No; but something equally droll. A packet carefully put up, enclosing a small cambric handkerchief, sweetly scented with perfume, and inside this a tress of hair--a woman's hair, long and beautiful, by my faith!"

"Indeed!" exclaimed Bocardo, in a significant tone; "and what have you done with it, Madame Arroyo?"

"What should I have done with it?" said the virago, with a disdainful toss of her head--"what but fling it back in the face of the messenger-- the worthless thing. No doubt it is a love-token sent to this colonel of the devil."

"The messenger took it back then?"

"Ah, indeed--with as much eagerness as if it had been a chain of gold."

"So much the better," said Bocardo, with a significant gesture. "I have an idea," he continued, "if I am not mistaken--a superb idea! With this messenger and this love-token, we can give the Colonel Tres-Villas a rendezvous, where, instead of meeting his sweetheart, he may tumble into the middle of a score of our fellows, who may take him alive without the slightest difficulty. The thing's as good as done. Only put me in communication with this messenger, and I'll answer for the rest. What say you, Arroyo? What shall we do with the Colonel Tres-Villas?"

"Burn him over a slow fire--roast him alive!" responded the guerillero, with an expression of ferocious joy.

"But your wife will intercede for him?" ironically added Bocardo.