The Mark of Zorro Read online

  So he rode straight ahead, gaining a bit now, knowing that two miles farther up the valley there was a trail that swung off to the right, and that by following it he would come to higher ground and so could double back on his tracks.

  He had covered one of the two miles before he remembered that it had been noised abroad that a landslide had been caused by the recent torrential rain and had blocked this higher trail. So he could not use that even when he reached it; and now a bold thought came to his mind.

  As he topped a slight rise in the terrain, he glanced behind once more and saw that no two of the troopers were riding side by side. They were well scattered, and there was some distance between each two of them. It would help his plan.

  He dashed around a bend in the highway, and pulled up his horse. He turned the animal’s head back toward whence he had come, and bent forward in the saddle to listen. When he could hear the hoof-beats of his nearest pursuer’s horse, he drew his blade, took a turn of the reins around his left wrist, and suddenly struck his beast in the flanks cruelly with his sharp rowels.

  The animal he rode was not used to such treatment, never having felt the spurs except when in a gallop and his master wished greater speed. Now he sprang forward like a thunderbolt, dashed around the curve like a wild stallion, and bore down upon the nearest of Señor Zorro’s foes.

  “Make way!” Señor Zorro cried.

  The first man gave ground readily, not sure that this was the highwayman coming back, and when he was sure of it, he shrieked the intelligence to those behind, but they could not understand because of the clatter of hooves on the hard road.

  Señor Zorro bore down upon the second man, clashed swords with him and rode on. He dashed around another curve, and his horse struck another fairly, and hurled him from the roadway. Zorro swung at the fourth man, and missed him, and was glad that the fellow’s counterstroke missed as well.

  And now there was naught but the straight ribbon of road before him, and his galloping foes dotting it. Like a maniac he rode them through, cutting and slashing at them as he passed. Sergeant Gonzales, far in the rear because of his jaded mount, realized what was taking place and screeched at his men, and even as he screeched a thunderbolt seemed to strike his horse, unseating him.

  And then Señor Zorro was through them and gone, and they were following him again, a cursing sergeant at their head, but at a distance slightly greater than before.

  He allowed his horse to go somewhat slower now, since he could keep his distance, and rode to the first cross-trail, into which he turned. He took to higher ground, and looked back to see the pursuit streaming out over the hill, losing itself in the distance, but still determined.

  “It was an excellent trick!” Señor Zorro said to his horse. “But we cannot try it often!”

  He passed the hacienda of a man friendly to the governor, and a thought came to him—Gonzales might stop there and obtain fresh horses for himself and his men.

  Nor was he mistaken in that. The troopers dashed up the driveway, and dogs howled a welcome. The master of the hacienda came to the door, holding a candelero high above his head.

  “We chase Señor Zorro!” Gonzales cried. “We require fresh steeds, in the name of the governor!”

  The servants were called, and Gonzales and his men hurried to the corral. Magnificent horses were there, horses almost as good as the one the highwayman rode, and all were fresh. The troopers quickly stripped saddles and bridles from their jaded mounts and put them on the fresh steeds, and then dashed for the trail again and took up the pursuit. Señor Zorro had gained quite a lead, but there was only one trail he could follow, and they might overtake him.

  Three miles away, on the crest of a small hill, there was a hacienda that had been presented to the mission of San Gabriel by a caballero who had died without leaving heirs. The governor had threatened to take it for the state, but so far had not done so, the Franciscans of San Gabriel having a name for protecting their property with determination.

  In charge of this hacienda was one Fray Felipe, a member of the order who was along in years, and under his direction the neophytes made the estate a profitable one, raising much livestock, and sending to the storehouses great amounts of hides and tallow and honey and fruit, as well as wine.

  Gonzales knew the trail they were following led to this hacienda, and that just beyond it there was another trail that split, one part going to San Gabriel and the other returning to Reina de Los Angeles by a longer route.

  If Señor Zorro passed the hacienda, it stood to reason that he would take the trail that ran toward the pueblo, since, had he wished to go to San Gabriel, he would have continued along the highway in the first place, instead of turning and riding back through the troopers at some risk to himself.

  But he doubted whether Zorro would pass. For it was well known that the highwayman dealt harshly with those who prosecuted the frailes, and it was to be believed that every Franciscan held a friendly feeling for him and would give him aid.

  The troopers came within sight of the hacienda, and could see no light. Gonzales stopped them where the driveway started, and listened in vain for sounds of the man they pursued. He dismounted and inspected the dusty road, but could not tell whether a horseman had ridden toward the house recently.

  He issued quick orders, and the troop separated, half of the men remaining with their sergeant and the others scattering in such manner that they could surround the house, search the huts of the natives, and look into the great barns.

  Then Sergeant Gonzales rode straight up the driveway with half his men at his back, forced his horse up the steps to the veranda as a sign that he held this place in little respect, and knocked on the door with the hilt of his sword.

  CHAPTER 17

  SERGEANT GONZALES MEETS A FRIEND

  Presently light showed through the windows, and after a time the door was thrown open. Fray Felipe stood framed in it, shading a candle with his hand—a giant of a man now past sixty, but one who had been a power in his time.

  “What is all this noise?” he demanded in his deep voice. “And why do you, son of evil, ride your horse on my veranda?”

  “We are chasing this pretty Señor Zorro, fray—this man they call the Curse of Capistrano,” Gonzales said.

  “And you expect to find him in this poor house?”

  “Stranger things have happened. Answer me, fray! Have you heard a horseman gallop past within a short time?”

  “I have not!”

  “And has this Señor Zorro paid you a visit recently?”

  “I do not know the man you mean.”

  “You have heard of him, doubtless?”

  “I have heard that he seeks to aid the oppressed, that he has punished those who have committed sacrilege, and that he has whipped those brutes who have beaten Indians.”

  “You are bold in your words, fray!”

  “It is my nature to speak the truth, soldier!”

  “You will be getting yourself into difficulties with the powers, my robed Franciscan.”

  “I fear no politician, soldier!”

  “I do not like the tone of your words, fray. I have half a mind to dismount and give you a taste of my whip!”

  “Señor!” Fray Felipe cried. “Take ten years off my shoulders and I can drag you in the dirt!”

  “That is a question for dispute! However, let us get to the subject of this visit. You have not seen a masked fiend who goes by the name of Señor Zorro?”

  “I have not, soldier!”

  “I shall have my men search your house!”

  “You accuse me of falsehood?” Fray Felipe cried.

  “My men must do something to pass the time, and they may as well search the house. You have nothing you wish to hide?”

  “Recognizing the identity of my guests, it might be well to hide the wine jugs,” Fray Felipe said.

  Sergeant Gonzales allowed an oath to escape him, and got down from his horse. The others dismounted, too, and the sergeant
’s mount was taken off the veranda and left with the horse-holder.

  Then Gonzales drew off his gloves, sheathed his sword, and stamped through the door with the others at his heels, as Fray Felipe fell back before him, protesting against the intrusion.

  From a couch in a far corner of the room there arose a man, who stepped into the circle of light cast by the candelero.

  “As I have eyes, it is my raucous friend!” he cried.

  “Don Diego! You here?” Gonzales gasped.

  “I have been at my hacienda looking over business affairs, and I rode over to spend the night with Fray Felipe, who has known me from babyhood. These turbulent times; I thought that here, at least, in this hacienda that is a bit out of the way and has a fray in charge of it, I could for a time rest in peace without hearing of violence and bloodshed. But it appears that I cannot. Is there no place in this country where a man may meditate and consult musicians and the poets?”

  “Meal mush and goat’s milk!” Gonzales cried. “Don Diego, you are my good friend and a true caballero. Tell me—have you seen this Señor Zorro to-night?”

  “I have not, my sergeant.”

  “You did not hear him ride past the hacienda?”

  “I did not. But a man could ride past and not be heard

  here in the house. Fray Felipe and I have been talking together, and were just about to retire when you came.”

  “Then the rogue has ridden on and taken the trail toward the pueblo!” the sergeant declared.

  “You had him in view?” Don Diego asked.

  “Ha! We were upon his heels, caballero! But at a turn in the highroad he made connection with some twenty men of his band. They rode at us, and attempted to scatter us, but we drove them aside and kept on after Señor Zorro. We managed to separate him from his fellows and give chase.”

  “You say he has a score of men?”

  “Fully a score, as my men will testify. He is a thorn in the flesh of the soldiery, but I have sworn to get him! And when once we stand face-to-face—”

  “You will tell me of it afterward?” Don Diego asked, rubbing his hands together. “You will relate how you mocked him as he fought, how you played with him, pressed him back and ran him through—”

  “By the saints! You make mock of me, caballero?”

  “’Tis but a jest, my sergeant. Now that we understand each other, perhaps Fray Felipe will give wine to you and your men. After such a chase, you must be fatigued.”

  “Wine would taste good,” the sergeant said.

  His corporal came in then, to report that the huts and barns had been searched, and the corral also, and that no trace had been found of Señor Zorro or his horse.

  Fray Felipe served the wine, though he appeared to do it with some reluctance, and it was plain that he was but answering Don Diego’s request.

  “And what shall you do now, my sergeant?” Don Diego asked, after the wine had been brought to the table. “Are you always to go chasing around the country and creating a tumult?”

  “The rogue evidently has turned back toward Reina de Los Angeles, caballero,” the sergeant replied. “He thinks he is clever, no doubt, but I can understand his plan.”

  “Ha! And what is it?”

  “He will ride around Reina de Los Angeles and take the trail to San Luis Rey. He will rest for a time, no doubt, to throw off all pursuit, and then will continue to the vicinity of San Juan Capistrano. That is where he began this wild life of his, and for that reason, the Curse of Capistrano he is called. Yes, he will go to Capistrano.”

  “And the soldiers?” Don Diego asked.

  “We shall follow him leisurely. We shall work toward the place, and when the news of his next outrage is made known, we shall be within a short distance of him instead of in the presidio at the pueblo. We can find the fresh trail, and so take up the chase. There shall be no rest for us until the rogue is either slain or taken prisoner.”

  “And you have the reward,” Don Diego added.

  “You speak true words, caballero. The reward will come in handy. But I seek revenge also. The rogue disarmed me once.”

  “Ah! That was the time he held a pistol in your face and forced you to fight not too well?”

  “That was the time, my good friend. Oh, I have a score to settle with him!”

  “These turbulent times!” Don Diego sighed. “I would they were at an end! A man has no chance for meditation. There are moments when I think I shall ride far out in the hills, where there can be found no life except rattlesnakes and coyotes, and there spend a number of days. Only in that manner may a man meditate.”

  “Why meditate?” Gonzales cried. “Why not cease thought and take to action? What a man you would make, caballero, if you let your eye flash now and then, and quarreled a bit, and showed your teeth once in a while! What you need is a few bitter enemies.”

  “May the saints preserve us!” Don Diego cried.

  “It is the truth, caballero! Fight a bit—make love to some señorita—get drunk! Wake up and be a man!”

  “Upon my soul! You almost persuade me, my sergeant. But—no! I never could endure the exertion!”

  Gonzales growled something into his great mustache, and got up from the table.

  “I have no special liking for you, fray, but I thank you for the wine, which was excellent,” he said. “We must continue our journey. A soldier’s duty never is at an end while he lives.”

  “Do not speak of journeys!” Don Diego cried. “I must take one myself on the morrow. My business at the hacienda is done, and I go back to the pueblo.”

  “Let me express the hope, my good friend, that you survive the hardship,” Sergeant Gonzales said.

  CHAPTER 18

  DON DIEGO RETURNS

  Señorita Lolita had to tell her parents, of course, what had happened during their absence, for the despensero knew, and would tell Don Diego when he returned, and the señorita was wise enough to realize that it would be better to make the first explanation.

  The despensero, having been sent for wine, knew nothing of the love scene that had been enacted, and had been told merely that Señor Zorro had hurried away. That seemed reasonable, since the señor was pursued by the soldiers.

  So the girl told her father and mother that Captain Ramón had called while they were absent, and that he had forced his way into the big living-room to speak to her, despite the entreaties of the servant. Perhaps he had been drinking too much wine, else was not himself because of his wound, the girl explained, but he grew too bold, and pressed his suit with ardor that was repugnant, and finally insisted that he should have a kiss.

  Whereupon, said the señorita, this Señor Zorro had stepped from the corner of the room—and how he came to be there, she did not know—and had forced Captain Ramón to apologize, and then had thrown him out of the house. After which—and here she neglected to tell the entire truth—Señor Zorro made a courteous bow and hurried away.

  Don Carlos was for getting a blade and going at once to the presidio and challenging Captain Ramón to mortal combat; but Doña Catalina was more calm, and showed him that to do that would be to let the world know that their daughter had been affronted, and also it would not aid their fortunes any if Don Carlos quarreled with an officer of the army; and yet again, the don was of an age, and the captain probably would run him through in two passes and leave Doña Catalina a weeping widow, which she did not wish to be.

  So the don paced the floor of the great living-room and fumed and fussed, and wished he were ten years the younger, or that he had political power again, and he promised that when his daughter should have wedded Don Diego, and he was once more in good standing, he would see that Captain Ramón was disgraced and his uniform torn from his shoulders!

  Sitting in the chamber that had been assigned to her, Señorita Lolita listened to her father’s ravings, and found herself confronted with a situation. Of course, she could not wed Don Vega now. She had given her lips and her love to another, a man whose face she nev
er had seen, a rogue pursued by soldiery—and she had spoken truly when she had said that a Pulido loved but once.

  She tried to explain it all to herself, saying that it was a generous impulse that had forced her to give her lips to the man; and she told herself that it was not the truth, that her heart had been stirred when first he spoke to her at her father’s hacienda during the siesta hour.

  She was not prepared yet to tell her parents of the love that had come into her life, for it was sweet to keep it a secret; and, moreover, she dreaded the shock to them, and half feared that her father might cause her to be sent away to some place where she never would see Señor Zorro again.

  She crossed to a window and gazed out at the plaza—and she saw Don Diego approaching in the distance. He rode slowly, as if greatly fatigued, and his two native servants rode a short distance behind him.

  Men called to him as he neared the house, and he waved his hand at them languidly in response to their greeting. He dismounted slowly, one of the natives holding the stirrup and assisting him, brushed the dust from his clothes, and started toward the door.

  Don Carlos and his wife were upon their feet to greet him, their faces beaming, for they had been accepted anew into society the evening before, and knew it was because they were Don Diego’s houseguests.

  “I regret that I was not here when you arrived,” Don Diego said, “but I trust that you have been made comfortable in my poor house.”

  “More than comfortable in this gorgeous palace!” Don Carlos exclaimed.

  “Then you have been fortunate, for the saints know I have been uncomfortable enough.”

  “How is that, Don Diego?” Doña Catalina asked.

  “My work at the hacienda done, I rode as far as the place of Fray Felipe, there to spend the night in quiet. But as we were about to retire, there came a thundering noise at the door, and this Sergeant Gonzales and a troop of soldiers entered. It appears that they had been chasing the highwayman called Señor Zorro, and had lost him in the darkness!”

  In the other room, a dainty señorita gave thanks for that.