“Get out of the carreta, and your assistant also!” Señor Zorro commanded.
“But I have no money—” the dealer protested.
“Out of the carreta with you! Do I have to request it twice? Move, or lead finds a lodging place in your carcass!”
Now the dealer saw that the highwayman held a pistol in his hand, and he squealed with sudden fright and got out of the cart as speedily as possible, his assistant tumbling out at his heels. They stood in the dusty highway before Señor Zorro, trembling with fear, the dealer begging for mercy.
“I have no money with me, kind highwayman, but I shall get it for you!” the dealer cried. “I shall carry it to where you say, whenever you wish—”
“Silence, beast!” Señor Zorro cried. “I do not want your money, perjurer! I know all about the farce of a trial at Reina de Los Angeles; I have ways of finding out about such things speedily.
“So the aged fray swindled you, eh? Liar and thief! ’Tis you who are the swindler! And they gave that old and godly man fifteen lashes across his bare back, because of the lies you told! And you and the magistrado will divide the money of which you swindled him!”
“I swear by the saints—”
“Do not! You have done enough false swearing already. Step forward!”
The dealer complied, trembling as if with a disease; and Señor Zorro dismounted swiftly and walked around in front of his horse. The dealer’s assistant was standing beside the carreta, and his face was white.
“Forward!” Señor Zorro commanded again.
Again the dealer complied; but suddenly he began to beg for mercy, for Señor Zorro had taken a mule whip from beneath his long cloak, and held it ready in his right hand, while he held the pistol in his left.
“Turn your back!” he commanded now.
“Mercy, good highwayman! Am I to be beaten as well as robbed? You would whip an honest merchant because of a thieving fray?”
The first blow fell, and the dealer shrieked with pain. His last remark appeared to have given strength to the highwayman’s arm. The second blow fell, and the dealer in hides and tallow went to his knees in the dusty high road.
Then Señor Zorro returned his pistol to his belt, and stepped forward and grasped the dealer’s mop of hair with his left hand, so as to hold him up, and with the right he rained heavy blows with the mule whip upon the man’s back, until his tough coat and shirt were cut to ribbons, and the blood soaked through.
“That for a man who perjures himself and has an honest fray punished!” Señor Zorro cried.
And then he gave his attention to the assistant.
“No doubt, young man, you but carried out your master’s orders when you lied before the magistrado,” he said, “but you must be taught to be honest and fair, no matter what the circumstances.”
“Mercy, señor!” the assistant howled.
“Did you not laugh when the fray was being whipped? Are you not filled with wine now because you have been celebrating the punishment that godly man received for something he did not do?”
Señor Zorro grasped the youth by the nape of his neck, whirled him around, and sent a stiff blow at his shoulders. The boy shrieked, and then began whimpering. Five lashes in all he received, for Señor Zorro apparently did not wish to render him unconscious. And finally he hurled the boy from him, and looped his whip.
“Let us hope both of you have learned your lesson,” he said. “Get into the carreta, and drive on. And when you speak of this occurrence, tell the truth, else I hear of it and punish you again! Let me not learn that you have said some fifteen or twenty men surrounded and held you while I worked with the whip!”
The apprentice sprang into the cart, and his master followed, and they whipped up and disappeared in a cloud of dust toward San Gabriel. Señor Zorro looked after them for a time, then lifted his mask and wiped the perspiration from his face, and then mounted his horse again, fastening the mule whip to the pommel of his saddle.
XXIII
More Punishment
Señor Zorro rode quickly to the crest of the hill beneath which was the pueblo, and there he stopped his horse and looked down at the village.
It was almost dark, but he could see quite well enough for his purpose. Candles had been lighted in the tavern; and from the building came the sounds of raucous song and loud jest. Candles were burning at the presidio and from some of the houses came the odor of cooking food.
Señor Zorro rode on down the hill. When he reached the edge of the plaza he put spurs to his horse, and dashed up to the tavern door, before which half a dozen men were congregated, the most of them under the influence of wine.
“Landlord!” he cried.
None of the men about the door gave him particular attention at first, thinking he was but some caballero on a journey wishing refreshment. The landlord hurried out, rubbing his fat hands together, and stepped close to the horse. And then he saw that the rider was masked, and that the muzzle of a pistol was threatening him.
“Is the magistrado within?” Señor Zorro asked.
“Si, Señor!”
“Stand where you are and pass the word for him. Say there is a caballero here who wishes speech with him regarding a certain matter.”
The terrified landlord shrieked for the magistrado, and the word was passed inside. Presently the judge came staggering out, crying in a loud voice to know who had summoned him from his pleasant entertainment.
He staggered up to the horse, and put one hand against it, and looked up to find two glittering eyes regarding him through a mask. He
