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 at 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.
XVII
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 tonight?”
“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 high road 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
