“That should be an easy task for a Vega. Any maiden would be proud to take that name.”
“I had hoped to wed with the Señorita Lolita Pulido, she having taken my fancy.”
“A worthy maiden! Her father, too, has been subjected to unjust oppression. Did you join your family to his, none would dare raise hand against him.”
“All that is very well, fray, and the absolute truth, of course. But the señorita will have none of me,” Don Diego complained. “It appears that I have not dash and spirit enough.”
“She is hard to please, perhaps. Or possibly she is but playing at being a coquette with the hope of leading you on and increasing your ardor. A maid loves to tantalize a man, caballero. It is her privilege.”
“I showed her my house in the pueblo, and mentioned my great wealth, and agreed to purchase a new carriage for her,” Don Diego told him.
“Did you show her your heart, mention your love, and agree to be a perfect husband?”
Don Diego looked at him blankly, then batted his eyes rapidly, and scratched at his chin, as he did sometimes when he was puzzled over a matter.
“What a perfectly silly idea!” he exclaimed after a time.
“Try it, caballero. It may have an excellent effect.”
XXII
Swift Punishment
The frailes drove the cart onward, Fray Felipe raised his hand in blessing, and Don Diego Vega turned aside into the other trail, the deaf-and-dumb Bernardo following at his heels on the mule.
Back in the pueblo, the dealer in hides and tallow was the center of attraction at the tavern. The fat landlord was kept busy supplying his guests with wine, for the dealer in hides and tallow was spending a part of the money of which he had swindled Fray Felipe. The magistrado was spending the rest.
There was boisterous laughter as one recounted how Fray Felipe lay about him with the whip, and how the blood spurted from his old back when the lash was applied.
“Not a whimper from him!” cried the dealer in hides and tallow. “He is a courageous old coyote! Now, last month we whipped one at San Fernando, and he howled for mercy, but some men said he had been ill and was weak, and possibly that was so. A tough lot, these frailes! But it is great sport when we can make one howl! More wine, landlord! Fray Felipe is paying for it!”
There was a deal of raucous laughter at that, and the dealer’s assistant, who had given perjured testimony, was tossed a coin and told to play a man and do his own buying. Whereupon the apprentice purchased wine for all in the inn, and howled merrily when the fat landlord gave him no change from his piece of money.
“Are you a fray, that you pinch coins?” the landlord asked.
Those in the tavern howled with merriment again, and the landlord, who had cheated the assistant to the limit, grinned as he went about his business. It was a great day for the fat landlord.
“Who was the caballero who showed some mercy toward the fray?” the dealer asked.
“That was Don Diego Vega,” the landlord replied.
“He will be getting himself into trouble—”
“Not Don Diego,” said the landlord. “You know the great Vega family, do you not, señor? His excellency himself curries their favor. Did the Vegas hold up as much as a little finger, there would be a political upheaval in these parts.”
“Then he is a dangerous man?” the dealer asked.
A torrent of laughter answered him.
“Dangerous? Don Diego Vega?” the landlord cried, while tears ran down his fat cheeks. “You will be the death of me! Don Diego does naught but sit in the sun and dream. He scarcely ever wears a blade, except as a matter of show. He groans if he has to ride a few miles on a horse. Don Diego is about as dangerous as a lizard basking in the sun.
“But he is an excellent gentleman, for all that!” the landlord added hastily, afraid that his words would reach Don Diego’s ears, and Don Diego would take his custom elsewhere.
It was almost dusk when the dealer in hides and tallow left the tavern with his assistant, and both reeled as they walked, for they had partaken of too much wine.
They made their way to the carreta in which they traveled, waved their farewells to the group about the door of the tavern, and started slowly up the trail toward San Gabriel.
They made their journey in a leisurely manner, continuing to drink from a jug of wine they had purchased. They went over the crest of the first hill, and the pueblo of Reina de Los Angeles was lost to view, and all they could see was the highway twisting before them like a great dusty serpent, and the brown hills, and a few buildings in the distance, where some man had his hacienda.
They made a turning, and found a horseman confronting them, sitting easily in the saddle, with his horse standing across the road in such manner that they could not pass.
“Turn your horse—turn your beast!” the dealer in hides and tallow cried. “Would you have me drive over you?”
The assistant gave an exclamation that was part of fear, and the dealer looked more closely at the horseman. His jaw dropped, his eyes bulged.
“ ’Tis Señor Zorro!” he exclaimed. “By the saints! ’tis the Curse of Capistrano, away down here near San Gabriel. You would not bother me, Señor Zorro? I am a poor man, and have no money. Only yesterday a fray swindled me, and I have been to Reina de Los Angeles seeking justice.”
“Did you get it?” Señor Zorro asked.
“The magistrado was kind, señor. He ordered the fray
