“Señor!” Lolita whispered across the room.
“What is it, señorita?”
“You must go—at once. I am afraid that my father has sent for the soldiers.”
“And you are kind enough to warn me?”
“Do I wish to see you taken here? Do I wish to see fighting and bloodshed?” she asked.
“That is the only reason, señorita?”
“Will you not go, señor?”
“I am loath to rush away from such a charming presence, señorita. May I come again at the next siesta hour?”
“By the saints—no! This must end, Señor Zorro! Go your way—and take care! You have done some things that I admire, hence I would not see you captured. Go north, as far as San Francisco de Asis, and turn honest, señor. It is the better way.”
“Little priest!” he said.
“Shall you go, señor?”
“But your father has gone to fetch food for me. And could I depart without thanking him for this meal?”
Don Carlos came back into the room then, and Señor Zorro knew by the expression on his face that the soldiers were coming up the trail. The don put a package on the table.
“Some food to carry with you, señor,” he said. “And we would relish more of your reminiscences before you start on your perilous journey.”
“I have spoken too much of myself already, señor, and it ill becomes a caballero to do that. It were better that I thank you and leave you now.”
“At least, señor, drink another mug of wine.”
“I fear,” said Señor Zorro, “that the soldiers are much too close, Don Carlos.”
The face of the don went white at that, for the highwayman was picking up his pistol, and Don Carlos feared he was about to pay the price for his treacherous hospitality. But Señor Zorro made no move to fire.
“I forgive you this breach of hospitality, Don Carlos, because I am an outlaw and there has been a price put upon my head,” he said. “And, also, I hold you no ill will because of it. Buenas noches, señorita! Señor, á Dios!”
Then a terrified servant who knew little concerning the events of the evening rushed in at the door.
“Master! The soldiers are here!” he cried. “They are surrounding the house!”
IX
The Clash of Blades
On the table, near its middle, was an imposing candelero in which half a score of candles burned brightly. Señor Zorro sprang toward it now, and with one sweep of his hand dashed it to the floor, extinguishing all the candles in an instant and plunging the room in darkness.
He evaded the wild rush of Don Carlos, springing across the room so lightly that his soft boots made not the slightest noise to give news of his whereabouts. For an instant the Señorita Lolita felt a man’s arm around her waist, gently squeezing it, felt a man’s breath on her cheek, and heard a man’s whisper in her ear:
“Until later, señorita!”
Don Carlos was bellowing like a bull to direct the soldiers to the scene; and already some of them were pounding at the front door. Señor Zorro rushed from the room and into the one adjoining, which happened to be the kitchen. The native servants fled before him as if he had been a ghost, and he quickly extinguished all the candles that burned there.
Then he ran to the door that opened into the patio, and raised his voice, and gave a call that was half moan and half shriek, a peculiar call, the like of which none at the Pulido hacienda had heard before.
As the soldiers rushed in at the front door, and as Don Carlos called for a brand with which to light the candles again, the sound of galloping hoofs was heard from the rear of the patio. Some powerful horse was getting under way there, the soldiers guessed immediately.
The sound of hoofs died away in the distance, but the soldiers had noted the direction in which the horse was traveling.
“The fiend escapes!” Sergeant Gonzales shrieked, he being in charge of the squad. “To horse, and after him! I give the man who overtakes him one-third of all the reward!”
The big sergeant rushed from the house, the men at his heels, and they tumbled into their saddles and rode furiously through the darkness, following the sound of the beating hoofs.
“Lights! Lights!” Don Carlos was shrieking inside the house.
A servant came with a brand, and the candles were lighted again. Don Carlos stood in the middle of the room, shaking his fists in impotent rage. Señorita Lolita crouched in a corner, her eyes wide with fear. Doña Catalina, fully recovered now from her fainting spell, came from her own room to ascertain the cause of the commotion.
“The rascal got away!” Don Carlos said. “It is to be hoped that the soldiers capture him.”
“At least, he is clever and brave,” Señorita Lolita said.
“I grant him that, but he is a highwayman and a thief!” Don Carlos roared. “Why should he torment me by visiting my house?”
Señorita Lolita thought she knew, but she would be the last one to explain to her parents. There was a faint blush on her face yet because of the arm that had squeezed her and the words that had been whispered in her ear.
Don Carlos threw the front door open wide and stood in it, listening. To his ears came the sound of galloping hoofs once more.
“My sword!” he cried to a servant. “Someone comes—it may be the rascal returning! It is but one rider, by the saints!”
The galloping stopped; a man made his way across the veranda and hurried through the door into the room.
“Thank the good saints!” Don Carlos gasped.
It was not the highwayman returned; it was Captain Ramón, comandante of the presidio at Reina de Los Angeles.
“Where are my men?” the captain cried.
“Gone, señor! Gone after that pig of a highwayman!” Don Carlos
