"It is well," he said, calmly addressing himself to the messenger.
"Take my answer to him who sent you, that I will be punctual to the rendezvous in three days from the present."
With this answer the messenger took his departure. Don Estevan, turning to his guests, again apologised for his impoliteness; and the dinner for an instant suspended once more progressed with renewed activity.
Nevertheless the Spaniard appeared more thoughtful than before; and his guests did not doubt but that he had received some news of more than ordinary interest.
We shall leave them to their conjectures, and precede Don Estevan to the mysterious rendezvous which had been given him, and the scene of which was to be a small village lying upon the route to the Presidio of Tubac.
The whole country between Arispe and the Presidio in question may be said to be almost uninhabited. Along the route only mean hovels are encountered, with here and there a _hacienda_ of greater pretensions.
These houses are rarely solitary, but collected in groups at long distances apart. Usually a day"s journey lies between them, and, consequently, they are the stopping-places for travellers, who may be on their way towards the frontier. But the travellers are few, and the inhabitants of these miserable hovels pa.s.s the greater part of their lives in the middle of a profound solitude. A little patch of Indian corn which they cultivate,--a few head of cattle, which, fed upon the perfumed pastures of the plains, produce beef of an exquisite flavour,-- a sky always clear,--and, above all, a wonderful sobriety of living,-- enable these dwellers of the desert steppes of Sonora to live, if not in a state of luxury, at least free from all fear of want. What desires need trouble a man who sees a blue sky always over his head, and who finds in the smoke of a cigarette of his own making, a resource against all the cravings of hunger?
At one part of the year, however, these villages of hovels are uninhabited--altogether abandoned by their occupants. This is the _dry season_, during the greater portion of which the cisterns that supply the villages with water become dried up. The cisterns are fed by the rains of heaven, and no other water than this can be found throughout most tracts of the country. When these give out, the settlements have to be abandoned, and remain until the return of the periodical rains.
In a morning of the year 1830, at the distance of about three days"
journey from Arispe, a man was seated, or rather half reclining, upon his _serape_ in front of a rude hovel. A few other huts of a similar character were near, scattered here and there over the ground. It was evident, from the profound silence that reigned among these dwellings, and the absence of human forms, or implements of household use, that the _rancheria_ was abandoned by its half nomad population. Such in reality was the fact, for it was now the very height of the dry season. Two or three roads branched out from this miserable group of huts, leading off into a thick forest which surrounded it on all sides. They were rather paths than roads, for the tracks which they followed were scarce cleared of the timber that once grew upon them. At the point of junction of these roads the individual alluded to had placed himself; and his att.i.tude of perfect ease told that he was under no apprehension from the profound and awe-inspiring loneliness of the place. The croak of the ravens flitting from tree to tree hoa.r.s.ely uttered in their flight; the cry of the _chaculucas_ as they welcomed the rising sun, were the only sounds that broke the stillness of the scene.
Presently the white fog of the night began to rise upward and disappear under the strength of the sunbeams. Only a few flakes of it still hung over the tops of the mezquite and iron-wood trees that grew thickly around the huts.
Near where the man lay, there might be seen the remains of a large fire.
It had been kindled no doubt to protect him from the chill dews of the night; and it now served him to prepare his breakfast. Some small cakes of wheaten meal, with few pieces of _tasajo_, were already placed upon the red embers of the fire; but notwithstanding that these would made but a meagre repast the man appeared eagerly to await the enjoyment of it.
Near at hand, with a frugality equal to that of his master, a horse was browsing upon the tufts of dry yellow gra.s.s, that grew thinly over the ground. This horse, with a saddle and bridle lying near, proved the solitary individual to be a traveller. Contrary to the usual custom of the country, the horse had no _lazo_, or fastening of any kind upon him; but was free to wander where he pleased.
The costume of the traveller consisted in a sort of jacket or vest of brick-coloured leather, without b.u.t.tons or any opening in front, but drawn over the head after the manner of a shirt. Wide pantaloons of the same material, open from the knee downwards, and fastened at the waist by a scarf of red China c.r.a.pe. Under the pantaloons, and covering the calf of the leg nearly up to the knee, could be seen the _botas_ of strong stamped leather, in one of which was stuck a long knife with a horn hilt--thus ready to the hand whether the owner was seated, standing, or on horseback. A large felt hat, banded with a _toquilla_ of Venetian pearls, completed a costume sufficiently picturesque, the vivid colours of which were in harmony with that of the _serape_ on which the traveller was reclining. This costume denoted one of those men accustomed to gallop among the th.o.r.n.y jungles that cover the desert steppes of North Mexico; and who in their expeditions, whether against Indian enemies, or for whatever purpose, sleep with indifference under the shadow of a tree, or the open heaven itself,--in the forest, or upon the naked plain.
There was in the features of this traveller a singular mixture of brutal ferocity and careless good-humour. A crooked nose, with thick bushy eyebrows, and black eyes that sparkled from time to time with a malicious fire, gave to his countenance a sinister aspect, and belied the expression of his mouth and lips, that presented rather a pleasant and smiling contour. But the man"s features, when viewed as a whole, could not fail to inspire a certain feeling of repulsiveness mingled with fear. A short carbine that lay by his side, together with the long knife, whose haft protruded above the top of his boots, did not in any way tame down the ferocious aspect of his face. On the contrary they proclaimed him one whom it would not be desirable to have for a companion in the desert.
Despite the _nonchalance_ of his att.i.tude, it was evident that he awaited some one; but as everything in these countries is on a large scale, so also is the virtue of patience. This outlaw--for everything about him signified that he was one of some sort--this outlaw, we say, having made three days" journey before arriving upon the ground where he now was, thought nothing of a few hours, less or more, spent in expectation. In the desert, he who has travelled a hundred leagues, will consider it a mere bagatelle to wait for a hundred hours: unlike to him who keeps an appointment in the midst of a great city, where a delay of a quarter of an hour will be endured with feverish impatience.
So it was with our solitary traveller; and when the hoof-strokes of a horse were heard at some distance off in the forest, he did nothing more than to make a slight change in the att.i.tude in which he had been reclining; while his steed, also hearing the same sounds, tossed up his head and neighed joyously. The hoof-strokes each moment were heard more distinctly; and it was evident that a horseman was galloping rapidly in the direction of the huts. After a little the strokes became more gentle, and the gallop appeared to be changed to a walk. The rider was approaching with caution.
A few seconds intervened, and then upon one of the roads--that leading to Arispe--the horseman was perceived coming on at a slow and cautious pace.
On perceiving the traveller, still half reclining upon his _serape_, the horseman drew his rein still tighter and halted, and the two men remained for some seconds regarding each other with a fixed and interrogative glance.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
TWO HONEST GENTLEMEN.
The new-comer was a tall man with a dark complexion, and thick black beard, costumed very similarly to the other--in vest and pantaloons of brick-red leather, felt sombrero, sash, and boots. He was mounted upon a strong active horse.
It may appear strange that during the period of mutual examination, each of these two men made a very similar reflection about the other; but it was scarcely strange either, considering that both presented an equally suspicious aspect.
"_Carramba_!" muttered the horseman as he eyed the man on the _serape_, "if I wasn"t sure that he is the gentleman I have been sent to meet, I should believe that I had chanced upon a very unlucky acquaintance."
At the same instant he upon the ground said to himself--
"_Por Dios_! if that infernal Seven of Spades had left any dollars in my purse, I should have considered them in danger of being taken out of it just now."
Despite the nature of his reflection, the horseman did not hesitate any longer, but spurring his horse forward to the edge of the fire, lifted his hat courteously from his head, and saluted him on the ground, at the same time saying interrogatively:--
"No doubt it is the Senor Don Pedro Cuchillo I have the honour to address?"
"The same, cavallero!" replied the other, rising to his feet, and returning the salute with no less politeness than it had been given.
"Cavallero! I have been sent forward to meet you, and announce to you the approach of the Senor Arechiza, who at this time cannot be many leagues distant. My name is Manuel Baraja, your very humble servant."
"Your honour will dismount?"
The horseman did not wait for the invitation to be repeated, but at once flung himself from the saddle. After unbuckling his enormous spurs, he speedily unsaddled his horse, fastened a long lazo around his neck, and then giving him a smart cut with the short whip which he carried, despatched the animal without further ceremony to share the meagre provender of his companion.
At this movement the _tasajo_, beginning to sputter over the coals, gave out an odour that resembled the smell of a dying lamp. Notwithstanding this, Baraja cast towards it a look of longing.
"It appears to me Senor Cuchillo," said he, "that you are well provided here. Carramba!--_tortillas_, of wheaten meal! _tasajo_!--it is a repast for a prince!"
"Oh, yes," replied Cuchillo, with a certain air of foppishness, "I treat myself well. It makes me happy to know that the dish is to your liking; I beg to a.s.sure you, it is quite at your service."
"You are very good, and I accept your offer without ceremony. The morning air has sharpened my appet.i.te."
And saying this, Baraja proceeded to the mastication of the ta.s.sajo and tortillas. After being thus engaged for some time, he once more addressed himself to his host.
"Dare I tell you, Senor Cuchillo, the favourable impression I had of you at first sight?"
"Oh! you shock my modesty, senor. I would rather state the good opinion your first appearance gave me of _you_!"
The two new friends here exchanged a salute, full of affability, and then continued to eat, Baraja harpooning upon the point of his long knife another piece of meat out of the ashes.
"If it please you, Senor Baraja," said Cuchillo, "we may talk over our business while we are eating. You will find me a host _sans ceremonie_."
"Just what pleases me."
"Don Estevan, then, has received the message which I sent him?"
"He has, but what that message was is only known to you and him."
"No doubt of that," muttered Cuchillo to himself.
"The Senor Arechiza," continued the _envoy_, "started for Tubac shortly after receiving your letter. It was my duty to accompany him, but he ordered me to proceed in advance of him with these commands: "In the little village of Huerfano you will find a man, by name Cuchillo; you shall say to him that the proposal he makes to me deserves serious attention; and that since the place he has designated as a rendezvous is on the way to Tubac, I will see him on my journey." This instruction was given by Don Estevan an hour or so before his departure, but although I have ridden a little faster to execute his orders, he cannot be far behind me."
"Good! Senor Baraja, good!" exclaimed Cuchillo, evidently pleased with the communication just made, "and if the business which I have with Don Estevan be satisfactorily concluded--which I am in hopes it will be--you are likely to have me for a comrade in this distant expedition. But,"
continued he, suddenly changing the subject, "you will, no doubt, be astonished that I have given Don Estevan a rendezvous in such a singular place as this?"
"No," coolly replied Baraja, "you may have reasons for being partial to solitude. Who does not love it at times?"
A most gracious smile playing upon the countenance of Cuchillo, denoted that his new acquaintance had correctly divined the truth.