“Ha! Don Diego, a fair day to you!” he cried. And then he lowered his voice and stepped nearer: “Has, by any chance, the man we call leader of our league of avengers, sent you a message this day?”
“By the bright blue sky—no!” Don Diego said. “Why should the man?”
“This Pulido business. It seems an outrage. Some of us have been wondering whether our leader does not intend to take a hand in it. We have been anticipating a message.”
“By the saints! Oh, I trust not!” Don Diego said. “I could not endure an adventure of any sort tonight. I—er—my head aches, and I fear I am going to have a fever. I shall have to see an apothecary about it. There are shiverings up and down my spine, also. Is not that a symptom? During the siesta hour I was bothered with a pain in my left leg just above the knee. It must be the weather!”
“Let us hope that it will not result seriously,” laughed his friend, and hurried on across the plaza.
XXX
The Sign of the Fox
An hour after dusk that night a native sought out one of the caballeros with the intelligence that a gentleman wished to speak to him immediately, and that this gentleman was evidently wealthy since he had given the native a coin for carrying the message, when he might just as well have given nothing more than a cuff alongside the head; also that the mysterious gentleman would be waiting along the path that ran toward the San Gabriel trail, and to be sure that the caballero would come he had bade the native say that there was a fox in the neighborhood.
“A fox! Zorro—fox!” the caballero thought, and then he ruined the native forever by giving him another coin.
He went to the rendezvous immediately, and there he found Señor Zorro sitting his big horse, his face masked, the cloak wrapped around his body.
“You will pass the word, caballero,” Señor Zorro said. “I would have all men who are loyal and wish to do so, meet at midnight in the little valley beyond the hill. You know the place? Si? I shall be waiting.”
Then Señor Zorro wheeled his horse and dashed away in the darkness, and the caballero went back to the pueblo and passed the word to those men he knew could be depended upon, and urged upon them that they pass it to others of the league. One went to Don Diego’s house, but was told by the despensero that Don Diego had complained of a fever and had retired to his chamber, and had left word that he would flay alive any servant who dared enter the room unless he called.
Near the hour of midnight the caballeros began slipping from the pueblo one at a time, each upon the back of his best horse, and each armed with sword and pistol. Each man had a mask that could be put over his features instantly, for that had been decided upon at Don Alejandro’s hacienda, among other things.
The pueblo was in darkness, save that there were lights in the tavern, where some of his excellency’s escort made merry with the local troopers. For Sergeant Pedro Gonzales had returned with his men just before nightfall, glad to be back from a fruitless chase, and hoping that the next scent would be warmer.
Those in the tavern had gone down the hill from the presidio, some leaving their horses there without saddles or bridles on, and they had no thought of an encounter with Señor Zorro this night. The fat landlord was kept busy, for the soldiers from the north had coins in their purses and were willing to spend them. Sergeant Gonzales, holding the attention of the company as usual, was detailing at length what he would do to this Señor Zorro if the saints were kind enough to let them meet and grant him his blade in his hand.
There were lights in the big lounging-room of the presidio, too, for few of the soldiers had retired. And there were lights in the house where his excellency was a guest, but the remainder of the pueblo was in darkness, and the people slept.
In the carcel there was no light at all except one candle burning in the office, where a sleepy man was on guard. The jailer was in his bed. Prisoners moaned on the hard benches in the prison-room. Don Carlos Pulido stood before a window, looking up at the stars; and his wife and daughter huddled on a bench beside him, unable to sleep in such surroundings.
The caballeros found Señor Zorro waiting for them as he had said he would be, but he remained aloof, speaking scarcely a word, until all were present.
“Are all here?” he asked then.
“All except Don Diego Vega,” one replied. “He is ill with a fever, señor.”
And all the caballeros chuckled, for they had an idea the fever was caused by cowardice.
“I take it that you know something of what is in my mind,” Señor Zorro said. “We know what has happened to Don Carlos Pulido and the ladies of his family. We know they are innocent of any treason; and were they not, they should not have been taken to carcel and incarcerated with common felons and drunkards.
“Think of those gentle ladies in such surroundings! Think of it—because Don Carlos has the ill will of the governor! It is the sense of the league that something be done in this matter? If it is not, then will I do something by myself!”
“Rescue them!” a caballero said; and the others growled their approval.
