“You—er—found him?” Don Diego asked.
The face of the comandante flushed red.
“The fellow was there, and he attacked me,” he replied. “I was wounded, of course, and wore no weapon, and so he could work his will with me.”
“It is a most remarkable thing,” observed Don Diego, “that none of you soldiers can meet this Curse of Capistrano when you can be on equal terms. Always he descends upon you when you are helpless, or threatens you with a pistol while he fights you with a blade, or has his score of men about him.
“I met Sergeant Gonzales and his men at the hacienda of Fray Felipe last night, and the big sergeant told some harrowing tale of the highwayman and his score of men scattering his troopers.”
“We shall get him yet!” the captain promised. “And I might call your attention to certain significant things, caballero. Don Carlos Pulido, as we know, does not stand high with those in authority. This Señor Zorro was at the Pulido hacienda, you will remember, and attacked me there, emerging from a closet to do it.”
“Ha! What mean you?”
“Again, on last night, he was in your house while you were abroad and the Pulidos were your guests. It begins to look as if Don Carlos has a hand in the work of the Señor Zorro. I am almost convinced that Don Carlos is a traitor, and is aiding the rogue. You had better think twice, or half a score of times, before seeking a matrimonial alliance with the daughter of such a man.”
“By the saints, what a speech!” Don Diego exclaimed, as if in admiration. “You have made my poor head ring with it! You really believe all this?”
“I do, caballero.”
“Well, the Pulidos are returning to their own place tomorrow, I believe. I but asked them to be my guests so they could be away from the scenes of this Señor Zorro’s deeds.”
“And Señor Zorro followed them to the pueblo. You see?”
“Can it be possible?” Don Diego gasped. “I must consider the matter. Oh, these turbulent times! But they are returning to their hacienda tomorrow! Of course, I would not have his excellency think that I harbored a traitor.”
He got to his feet, bowed courteously, and then stepped slowly toward the door. And there he seemed to remember something suddenly, and turned to face the captain again.
“Ha! I am at the point of forgetting all about the insult!” he exclaimed. “What have you to say, my captain, regarding the events of last night?”
“Of course, caballero, I apologize to you most humbly,” Captain Ramón replied.
“I suppose that I must accept your apology. But, please do not let such a thing happen again. You frighten my despensero badly, and he is an excellent servant.”
Then Don Diego Vega bowed again and left the presidio, and Captain Ramón laughed long and loudly, until the sick men in the hospital-room feared that their comandante must have lost his wits.
“What a man!” the captain exclaimed. “I have turned him away from that Pulido señorita, I think. And I was a fool to hint to the governor that he could be capable of treason. I must rectify that matter in some way. The man has not enough spirit to be a traitor!”
XX
Don Diego Shows Interest
The threatened rain did not come that day, nor that night, and the following morning found the sun shining brightly, and the sky blue, and the scent of blossoms in the air.
Soon after the morning meal, the Pulido carreta was driven to the front of the house by Don Diego’s servants, and Don Carlos and his wife and daughter prepared to depart for their own hacienda.
“It desolates me,” Don Diego said at the door, “that there can be no match between the señorita and myself. What shall I say to my father?”
“Do not give up hope, caballero,” Don Carlos advised him. “Perhaps when we are home again, and Lolita contrasts our humble abode with your magnificence here, she will change her mind. A woman changes her mind, caballero, as often as she does the method of doing her hair.”
“I had thought all would be arranged before now,” Don Diego said. “You think there is still hope?”
“I trust so,” Don Carlos said, but he doubted it, remembering the look that had been in the señorita’s face. However, he intended having a serious talk with her once they were home, and possibly might decide to insist on obedience even in this matter of taking a mate.
So the usual courtesies were paid, and then the lumbering carreta was driven away, and Don Diego Vega turned back into his house with his head hanging upon his breast, as it always hung when he did himself the trouble to think.
Presently he decided that he needed companionship for the moment, and left the house to cross the plaza and enter the tavern. The fat landlord rushed to greet him, conducted him to a choice seat near a window, and fetched wine without being commanded to do so.
Don Diego spent the greater part of an hour looking through the window at the plaza, watching men and women come and go, observing the toiling natives, and now and then glancing up the trail that ran toward the San Gabriel road.
Down this trail, presently, he observed approaching two mounted men, and between their horses walked a third man, and Don Diego could see that ropes ran from this man’s waist to the saddles of the horsemen.
“What, in the name of the saints, have we here?” he exclaimed, getting up from the bench and going closer to the window.
“Ha!” said the landlord at his shoulder. “That will be the prisoner coming now.”
“Prisoner?” said Don Diego, looking at him with a question in his glance.
“A native brought the news a short time ago, caballero. Once more a fray is in the toils.”
“Explain, fat one!”
“The man is to go before the magistrado
