At length he succeeded in reaching the thicket, where Roncador had been left. The poor animal, though devoured by thirst--and suffering from hunger as well--had made no effort to free himself from his fastenings.

He was still standing by the tree, to which Don Rafael had attached him.

At the approach of his master he uttered a joyous neigh.

Notwithstanding the fear which Don Rafael had that the noise might be heard by his pursuers, he could not help feeling a joyful emotion at being thus saluted by his old companion in many a scene of peril; and, while caressing the horse, he felt a certain remorse at the _role_ he had just designed him to play. It was, however, one of those crises, when the instinct of self-preservation is at variance with the desire of the heart.

Leading his steed by the bridle, Don Rafael advanced as rapidly as was possible through the labyrinth of bushes and climbing plants that thickly covered the ground. The sun occasionally coming in view, enabled him to guide his course towards the south--the direction which Zapote had counselled him to take.

The advice given by the latter seemed to Don Rafael worth following. If he could only pa.s.s through the line of those seeking for him, and reach the cane-brake on the Ostuta, he might there conceal himself until after sunset. By night he might again attempt to enter the hacienda, and with a better chance of success; since he was now aware of its being surrounded by the insurgent guerilleros.

In order to give him more freedom in his movements, he cast away his sword-belt and scabbard; and with the bare blade in one hand, and his bridle-rein in the other, he continued to advance as silently as possible. He had determined to make use of his pistols--only as a last resource.

It was not long, however, before he was forced out of his direct course--not by the thickness of the jungle, but on hearing in front of him the voices of several men. These calling to one another, appeared to be directing a movement among themselves, as if advancing towards him in an extended deployment.

Singly, each of those who were approaching would have caused Don Rafael no more uneasiness than does the solitary hunter the lion who reluctantly retreats before him; but it was evident from the number of voices that a large party of men were in the wood; and should they all fall upon him simultaneously, there would be no alternative but to succ.u.mb. He therefore renounced the desperate idea that for a moment had occurred to him: of rushing upon the nearest, and putting an end to him without noise.

He perceived, at the same time, that, in the midst of the dense chapparal where he then was, a resolute man would have a decided advantage over enemies who were so scattered, and who were constantly warning him of their whereabouts as they advanced; while he, keeping silence, left them ignorant of his own.

The men were evidently getting nearer, and Don Rafael heard their voices with anxiety. He listened also to hear if any others replied to them in the opposite direction; since in that case he would be in danger of being surrounded. He knew not the number of his enemies; but he could tell by the sounds that their cordon had not yet been completely drawn around him, and there might still be a chance of escaping from it.

While thus listening, with all the eagerness of a man whose life was depending on the acuteness of his hearing, a noise reached him, which he knew was not made by a human being. It was the distant and sonorous tapping of a woodp.e.c.k.e.r upon the trunk of a dead tree--a sound often heard in the depths of an American forest. The sound fell upon his ear like the voice of a friend. It seemed to say that, in the direction whence it proceeded, no human creature would be found to trouble the solitude of the forest.

The hint was sufficient for one skilled in wood-lore, as Don Rafael was.

Without a moment's hesitation, he faced in the direction of the sound, and commenced advancing towards it--guided by the measured strokes given by the beak of the bird.

He was still at some distance from the dead-wood, where the woodp.e.c.k.e.r was employed seeking its food, when the bird, perceiving him, flew off amidst the trees.

Don Rafael now halted, and once more bent his ear to listen. To his joy he perceived that the voices of the searchers had receded to a distance.

This proved that he had pa.s.sed out of their way; and, if they should not find reason to return on their tracks, his chances of escape were becoming more favourable.

To make more sure of not being followed, he adopted a ruse, which he had learnt during his Indian campaigns. Taking up two dry sticks of guiacuni wood, he struck one against the other, thus producing a sound that resembled the tapping of the woodp.e.c.k.e.r's beak; and, after repeating this for a number of times, he returned by a detour to the same direction from which he had been forced on hearing the voices.

After a half-hour's advance through the thicket, he halted to refresh himself by eating some fruits of the pawpaw that grew by the path.

Their juicy pulp served for a moment to satisfy the craving of both appet.i.tes--relieving at the same time both hunger and thirst.

Mid-day had already pa.s.sed, and the sun was beginning to fling his rays obliquely through the branches, when Don Rafael resumed his route; and shortly after, through the last straggling trees of the forest, he perceived the crystal current of the Ostuta running its tranquil course between banks thickly covered with tall bamboos.

The breeze blowing freely over the water stirred the long lance-like leaves of the gigantic canes; among whose moveable stems the caimans had sought protection from the hot sun, and were awaiting the freshness of the night to return to the channel of the river. Here, too, like them, was Don Rafael to find an asylum that would shelter him till sunset.

He was not long in choosing a place of concealment. The selvage of the forest through which he had come, extended to within a few paces of the bamboo brake; and, crossing the intervening s.p.a.ce as rapidly as possible, the fugitive plunged in among the canes.

Once hidden by the gigantic reeds, he felt more secure; and had now an opportunity to reconnoitre to some extent a portion of the surrounding neighbourhood. From certain large rocks, which he saw lying in the mid-channel of the stream, he recognised the place, and knew that he was not far distant from the ford of the Ostuta--where, two years before, the pursuit of Arroyo and his brigands had more than once conducted him.

He saw, moreover, on the opposite side of the stream, the rude tent of the guerillero chief, and the hors.e.m.e.n of his band galloping up and down the bank. The sight aroused all his fiery pa.s.sions, and he could not restrain himself from raising his clenched hand, and stretching his arm in menace across the water.

All at once he heard shouts behind him, and the trampling of horses.

These sounds were caused by the party sent in pursuit of him by Arroyo, and who were now returning to the camp. It need not be said that they had been unsuccessful, as they brought back with them, instead of the Colonel and the two runaways, only Suarez and Pacheco, still alive and well, but terribly frightened.

For better security, Don Rafael advanced still further among the bamboos, carefully parting them with his hands as he moved forward; and the hors.e.m.e.n, though they rode past along the bank, only a short distance from where he was concealed, had not the slightest suspicion their enemy was so near. The most sharp-sighted eye could not have discovered his place of concealment.

Still continuing to listen, he heard the plashing of the horses as they forded the crossing; and a few minutes after a profound silence reigned over the scene.

CHAPTER SIXTY THREE.

AN UNWILLING AMBa.s.sADOR.

On the afternoon of that same day--a little after the time when Don Rafael buried himself among the bamboos--the ex-student of theology, accompanied by Costal and Clara, was riding along the Huaj.a.pam road, at no great distance from the ford of the Ostuta. When near to this famous crossing, the three halted; and while their horses were picking up a little gra.s.s, Costal kept on a little further afoot--for the purpose of reconnoitring the ground upon the banks of the river.

Meanwhile Clara busied himself in roasting, over a fire he had kindled, some green ears of maize corn, which, with a few pieces of dried beef (_cecina_), were to const.i.tute the dinner of the party. Clara had taken the materials from his _alforjas_.

After an interval of silence, the Captain commenced a conversation with the object of making to the negro a communication evidently deemed by him of some importance.

"Listen to me, Clara!" said he; "we are entrusted with a commission which I need not tell you will require us to act with the greatest circ.u.mspection. I need not tell you that our carrying to this Captain Arroyo the threats of the General is a sufficiently dangerous errand.

No more need I a.s.sure you that to enter the town of Oajaca is of a similar character. There the Royalists think no more of the head of an insurgent, than you of one of those ears of corn that you are roasting in the fire. What I wish of you, then, is--that you will drop the bad habit you have of calling me by the name of Lantejas; which, up to the present time, has brought me nothing but ill fortune. It was under that name I was proscribed; and I beg of you, therefore, that, for the future, both you and Costal will know me only by the name of _Don Lucas Alacuesta_. This last is the name of my mother's family, and it will serve my purpose as well as any other."

"Enough said, Captain," rejoined the negro; "I shall not forget to obey your orders--even though I should have the axe of the executioner raised over my neck."

"I am satisfied you will not. Meanwhile, until Costal returns, you may serve me with some of those morsels you are roasting, which seem to be done enough. I am dying of hunger."

"And I too," added the negro, casting a greedy glance towards the _cecina_.

Clara spread out before the Captain his saddle-cloth to serve as a napkin; and, taking some pieces of the broiled meat from the coals, placed them upon it. To this he added two or three of the roasted ears.

Then, seating himself close to the fire, he drew from the ashes the remaining portions of meat, and commenced eating with an earnestness that was likely to prove fatal to Costal's share in the banquet.

"Ho!" cried the Captain, "if you continue on in that fashion, your comrade Costal will be likely to go without his dinner."

"Costal will not eat before to-morrow," replied the negro in a grave tone.

"That I can easily believe," a.s.sented Don Cornelio. "There will be nothing left for him to eat, I fancy."

"You misunderstand me, Senor Captain. To-day is the third after midsummer, and to-night the moon will be at the full. That is why Costal will not eat, in order that by fasting he may prepare himself to hold communion with his G.o.ds."

"You fool! Do you believe in the wretched fables of the pagan Costal?"

"I have reason to believe them," gravely replied the negro. "The G.o.d of the Christians dwells in the sky; those of Costal inhabit the Lake of Ostuta, Tlaloc, the G.o.d of the mountains, lives on the summit of Monopostiac; and Matlacuezc his wife, the G.o.ddess of the water, bathes herself in the waters of the lake that surround the enchanted mountain.

The third night after the summer solstice--at the full of the moon--is the time when they show themselves to the descendants of the caciques of Tehuantepec--to such as have pa.s.sed their fiftieth year--and Costal intends to invoke them this very night."

As Don Cornelio was about endeavouring to bring the negro to a more rational religious belief, Costal strode silently up.

"Well," said the Captain, "is our information correct? Have you learnt whether Arroyo is really encamped on the banks of the Ostuta?"

"Quite true," answered the Indian, "a _peon_ of my acquaintance, whom I chanced to meet, has told me that Arroyo and Bocardo are by the ford, where they intercept the pa.s.sage of all who come this way. It is close by, so that this evening you can deliver your message. After that is done, I would ask leave of absence for Clara and myself for the night.

We wish to spend it on the sh.o.r.e of the Sacred Lake."

"Hum!" muttered Don Cornelio, without noticing the request. "So near!"

continued he, speaking to himself, and abruptly ceasing to eat. "What else did your _peon_ acquaintance make known about Arroyo and Bocardo?"

"Only that they are more thirsty than ever--the one for blood, the other for plunder."