 BOOK V. CHAPTER 17 OF THE SPY COMPANY, A STORY OF THE MEXICAN WAR BY ARCHIBOLD CLAVERING GUNTER. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon. BOOK V. BEYOND THE REAL GRAND, CHAPTER 17, FLORITO'S FAN DANGO. It is a hot, sultry summer night well south of the Rio Grande, on the most southern of all roads, leading from Camargo, first over low cactus-covered Chaperral Plains, called the Tierra Calliente, then through the foothills of the Cordilleros, to Monterey and Saltillo. This road, passing by the little adobe town of China, avoided by the main divisions of Taylor's army, has not been cut up by trains of wagons transporting provisions and camp equippage or guns of the artillery, though it has been scouted over and ridden over by Texan rangers and ragoons, who have cleared it of the rancheros and the regular Mexican cavalry of General Ampudia, who holds in force the town and citadel of Monterey. Upon this road grown dusty under the hoops of cavalry stands a little hamlet near the first foothills of the mountains, pleasantly shaded by some palmettoes, palms, and century plants that indicated is still near the Tierra Calliente, though it is watered by a stream who swiftly flowing cool water as it hurries to join the San Juan River shows that it rises in the heights of the Sierra Madre. Within this hamlet, this sultry night, though the breeze from the mountain tempers it for the benefit and amusement of the ferocious Yankee voluntarios, is being given a fandango. The Mexican mozos and laperos, cringingly doffing their sombreros, have gathered in the prettiest poblanas and manolas of the town, though they grind their yellow teeth and snarlingly feel their machetes when out of immediate observation. For the bright eyes of the Senoritas flash alloringly to the warring of these Yankee Desperados, who are very ardent in their lovings to Juanita, Inazita, or Lolita, now that Sally, Molly, and Annie are to hum in faraway Kentucky or Tennessee, and who practice the good old-fashioned soldier routine. If you cannot make love to the lips that are dear, at least you can kiss the lips that are near. Under live oaks, lighted by torches, the Sally did dance, being a smooth, well-beaten circle of earth surrounded by tables for gaming, and likewise the sale of tortillas, frijoles, dulcis, an aguariante, pulque, and other liquors of the country, a merry crowd of Texan rangers and Uncle Sam's troopers are engaged in loving, polka-ing, smoking, drinking, and gambling. These are interspersed with Mexicans who smile between their snarls, and Senoritas, whose white chemises scarcely veil their charms of busts and shoulders, and whose short, bright colored petticoats do not entirely conceal their graceful legs and ankles. Under the feet of everybody, Roma drove of hairless Mexican dogs struggling to get a snap at tortillas and frijoles, yet snarling, yelping, and howling under the kicks from the big boots of rangers and troopers. In addition, a banner announces Floreto's troop of artists from the Nueva de Teatro city of Mexico. These add to the entertainment a one-legged clown, whose performance of a maimed athlete seems to amuse the careless crowd, and a boy whose handsprings and flip-flaps are more those of an orangutan than a human being. But after a little, the stellar artiste of a company, coming out with languishing eyes and coquetish songs, sends the concourse wild with the ever-popular La Punchanada. Then changing from song to dance, she is greeted by some wild vias and weinos from the Mexicans, and cries of, keep it up! Go at heel and toe, and fling your shanks lively from Los Yankees. These are acknowledged by bully for Uncle Sam's voluntarios from the archly, naive figurante, who with flashing eyes, flowing hair and waving of ribozo, throws her agile limbs very gracefully to the music of guitar and mandolin, planking her castanets in cachuca and tapping her tambourine in bolero. When her cachuca and bolero being finished, the sylph goes about laughing and chatting and even drinking glasses of wine with the assemblage, holding out tambourine for reward. Though her attentions are chiefly directed to the boys of Uncle Sam, to whom being more liberal than her compatriots, she says archly, pesos por me. Nothing less than a dollar goes, sabay, big silver dollars, ah, you handsome gringos diablos. Coming out of the crowd with her tambourine packed full of money and jingling it merrily about under a torchlighted oak, she pauses, starts as if a snake had stung her pretty bare legs and mutters, caramba, you hear, and faces the drooping and beautiful figure and sad earnest face of Estrella Godfrey. I have been watching for you, says the American girl, and would put gold in the dancing girl's tambourine remarking eagerly, Carmelita, you remember how you saved him and me on the prairie? Have you seen him? Him? Caspita, you mean the gallant captain, cries the dancing girl, then shudders, from you, never, with a shame-faced gesture, she rejects heartily the proffered guardone. But a life-little Mexican, just behind her cries, caramba, jealous idiot, you refuse gold, and sees as the half eagle from Miss Godfrey's fingers, Floreto is not so dainty, then snarls, demonios, you're dropping all the money out of the tambourine. With this her patron takes the instrument from the listless fingers of his subject, who is staring agitatedly at Miss Godfrey, then takes place a curious, half incoherent interview broken in upon and interspersed with the chinking of money and the cries of gamblers from the neighboring tables and the thumbing of mandolins, guitars, and the shrieking of a fiddle from the Mexican musicians. The two girls making exquisite contrast in the torchlight that is now mellowed by the moon rising over the spurs of the Sierra Madre. Carmelita and Snowy Shemesat and red-tinted skirt carelessly worn Mexican fashion in half-savage nudity is a picture of barbaric passion. Estrella Godfrey clothed for her journey in the saddle over Mexican trails in the Indian costume she had worn on the prairie, might be barbarous also. Such are her flashing eyes and agitated gestures. Did not a pathetic sadness dominate and make soft her wildest emotions? You have been riding? You have got that wild-eyed ranger Harry with you, whispers Carmelita. I saw you come in this evening escorted by that troop of Yankee cavalry. As I thought, you seek ill Capitan Hampton. Then her eyes blaze and she mutters, you Dona Americana shall not find him, not through Carmelita. I must, or he'll be dead soon, sighs Estrella. They tell me such stories of his careless, reckless exposure in every skirmish and fight he can get into. Jesus, he is brave, isn't he? Resigned from the Texas rangers Madre de Dios, as if they didn't get killed enough, and organized the spy company, free to find death in the Mexican lines, men who don't want to come back. His first lieutenant, an English Lord, who was shooting buffalo on the plains and learned his wife had run away with a duke, his second officer, the little daredevil they call the Bravo, the pet of a Louisiana plantation, until his sweetheart was seduced by a New York gambler. Then he killed the gambler, and has come down here to get himself killed. A dear little boy who smokes cigarettes while bullets fly about him, and each night dreams of home and mutters, mother. The rest of them frontiersmen whose wives and daughters have been carried off by Indians. Borderers whose families and sweethearts have been slaughtered by rancheros, each a despairing man who wants to die but sell his life, and all driven to despair by our sex, Dona Americana. At this dread description of her sweethearts command, Estrella Gottfrey's eyes grow agonized. She cries, You have seen him fight? Seen him fight? cries Carmelita, Diablo. How these despairing men massacred the lancers of Carabajol? Ha, ha, ha! It is great to see sharp Hampton fight. It is, cries Hampton's fiancee, her eyes lighting up also. I deem a, and for you Americana, sighs the dancing girl, that is more than he ever did for me except when he courted little Floreto, who is counting and stealing my money because Floreto was going to beat me. Ah, then in gratitude to him, tell me where I can find him and take despair from him. Pleads, Miss Gottfrey. Otherwise I, I'll only see his dead body. You know these mountains ahead of us, aid me to get word to him. Word of what? Shame flushes the expressive features of the figurante. She asks eagerly, how many letters have you written? Oh, many, Mons Estrella, besides verbal messages by Dragoons riding to the front. Caramba, Dragoons don't overtake sharp Hampton, jeers Carmelita, then breaks forth into a nervous rhapsody. The spy company, always in front of all the spy company. Sixty men leave Metamorris. Now there are only thirty left, always in front, always seeking death. Blue chip men, who risk their lives on a revolver shot, always fighting, always dying. Crazy men led by a crazy chief. Ah, you have seen him, whispers Miss Gottfrey. You know where he is? Take me to him that I may make him want to live. And you have written how many letters to him to make him want to live? Asks Carmelita in nervous eagerness. Ah, yes, from Metamorris, five. Two from Camargo. Diablo, seven. And you'll take me to him? How can I? I am but a girl helpless as you with fighting men battling armies. Ask that young Dragoon army officer, the one by whose side you rode today, and Carmelita goes jeeringly away from the half-desparing American girl. But out of sight, concealed from her rival by a cactus hedge, and she gets to counting on her fingers. One, two, three. Yes, seven. I have them all. All they came to the crazy captain, who cares so little for his life, he is willing to toss it on the Mexican lances. Who some day, Diablo, will perhaps get crazy enough to love me. And yet one night, as he slept on the open prairie, I crawled through the grass to him to put my lips on his. And even in his sleep he turned away from me and whispered her name, estrella. Then I could have driven knife through him, or through myself, but better it through her now she's here. I knew she'd come. Something told me. Come to tell him she forgives him for something that's driving him crazy because he thinks he lost her. But I can stop her. Stop her forever, why not? Why did not Donna High Horse keep up north? Were she ought to be a modest thing following a man? Enter her half-crazy rhapsody is now insinuated the soft, suggestive voice of her patron. Little Floreto, coming beside the dancing girl, whispers, the American rica, the daughter of Godfrey, who owns the enormous flocks and herds and plantations in Texas. We missed her once. This time we will have her a grand ransom. Here, far away in the recesses of the Sierra Madre, we can make Donna Godfrey so unhappy. She will be willing to write that they sent whole mule loads of silver dollars for her rescue. Santos, last time I think you played us a little false for love of that Texan captain. Now, now, whispers Carmelita, now when she is alone, no mercy is in my heart. Then come, I'll tell you my little plan. Donna Estrella is seeking the man she loves. We will aid her, Diablo. We will aid her. At this Carmelita bursts into a mocking, jeering laugh and follows her patron for true Mexican dagger in the back plotting. As for Miss Godfrey, after having turned away hopeless of any aid from Carmelita, she goes to seeking among the gambling, laughing, dancing throng about the tables, the wild-eyed harry love, exclamations that arise over the twanging of the guitars and mandolins embarrass the young lady. Wah, says the Texan ranger, draw a bead on Jacifah's ankles. Never saw a prettier an old cane talk. Come on, boys, let's give the greasers of Virginia real, cries another, leading out a bright-eyed poblana. Don't show your teeth, my little jealous Tomasito, he adds, or I'll knock them down your yaller-ballet. This is addressed to a snarling Mexican who resents the enlevement of his sweetheart. As for Mr. Love, he is imbibing Agorriante. And has hilariously exclaimed, Golly, ain't drunk so much since I wore weaned. Then he laughs to a little manola of imploring eyes. No, can't have all my Monte winnings this trip, clinking some silver dollars in his hands. But I'll give ye one of these here to flip my heels, we ye. And would lead the mucacha to the dance. Did not at this moment his eyes rest upon his beautiful charge, who in dejected attitude is looking, sadly, on. Here's your dollar. He cries to the poblana. Go and dance with Tomasito. And turning away comes to Ms. Godfrey, who is at the outskirts of the crowd. At the little adobe house where she has taken up her quarters, and been made quite comfortable for a few silver dollars by the Mexican family that live in it, he says, in answer to this somewhat reproachful glance of the young lady and her inquiries, have you heard any news of him? I ain't so full of mass cowl as I look. I can think and talk straight as a rifle ball. From the gab of some of maize dragoons, they calculate they'll overtake Sharp some time if he ain't killed first. They say the talk at headquarters is that Hampton's spy company has done more reliable scouting than any other gang of rangers. Old Ruffin Reddy's gone sweet on him. And that they'll offer him a captaincy in the rifles, like they're gonna give Sam Walker, if Sharp lives to get it. Lives to get it? Oh, if I could see him and tell him that wretch's blood doesn't stand between us, then perhaps he'll live, breaks out the girl despairingly. Next size. Sometimes, Harry, I feel someone stopping my communications to my offianced. You know how you wrote after him down to Matamoros? He had left there, but you sent on my letter to the front. You had to return to your command. Now, thank God, the Ranger Colonel has given you dispatches to Hampton. Though I don't think it is much more than simply, for God's sake, Sharp, don't throw away your life too carelessly. Something of that nature. Hazen, his kind heart, calls it a dispatch, and makes it your military duty to get this on from China. He gave it to my teary eyes to my beseeching, that's all. He let me have you, Harry, to take me to the man I love, to the man who is going to die. Yes, we're all a gun to die, remarks love philosophically, if we get on much further. We're now with the foremost cavalry troop, and if we go ahead of them, Lord knows what'll happen to us. I can fight for ye as good as any man. I can kill a few dozen greasers, I hope, before I go under. But there's too many dozen to kill. Yes, but I must see him. If he'd only join the main army and take his chances with the rest, he must soon if he lives. They're all gathering together now before Monterey to storm it. Then he'd have the chance of any other man, now sharp as no chance at all, I think. You know, if he had hope of me, he wouldn't try to throw his life away. Yet me to him. While I'll, I'll see what I can do. You know, the country from now on will be full of rancheros, and Hamdons away south of Monterey on the Satio Road, I calculate, try to see if the Mexicans are sending any reinforcements to join Ampudia. But I'll, I'll take a look about and talk to you a little later. The frontiersman goes away, leaving the girl anxiously pacing the mud floor of the adobe hut, and sighing to herself, how to reach him, how to reach him. In this she is interrupted by little Florito, who comes to her. A very suave look upon his olive face, and a pleasant twinkle in his beady dark eyes, stroking his long mustache, and setting gently his red sash over his big bell-shaped trousers, and clanking his big spurs on his yellow boots. He says, honoured Dona, I heard your request to Carmelita. You wish to be guided to Il Capitan Hampton. I can get you there for, for what? asks Estrella eagerly. For a hundred silver pesos, or I'll take it in gold. I'm not particular about little matters. I know a safe trail slightly south of here. More towards Monte Morellas, that will reach the village where Hampton should be tomorrow. You are sure you can get me to Captain Hampton? Ms. Godfrey's tone implies doubt. Kian Sabay, I can try, mutters the Mexican. If not tomorrow, certainly the next day. Are you willing to take the risks? There will be some. Yes, any risk. I will speak of your offer to Mr. Love, who has dispatches for the Captain from the Texan Colonel. He will go with me. Oh, the wild-eyed Harry, he will go with you. Bueno. Speak to him. Then tell me if you wish to meet Captain Hampton. The Mexican goes away, cursing to himself, Diablo. If that crazy Texan ranger went with us, at first sight of treachery poor Floreto would become vulture meat. Not wild Harry, or Amor de Dios. In this he is aided by the Texan himself. Ms. Godfrey coming to love says, Harry, good news. A little Mexican, who is the head of the dancing troupe, who displays the one-legged clown and Carmelita, the dancing girl and the boy who turns somersaults. He tells me that he knows a trail south of here. For a hundred pesos, he will guide us through it to the village where Hampton must be tomorrow or the next day. At this love, turning his eyes upon her, cries, Not much. That moon has made you loony. Trust ourselves to that little sneaking yaller-ballet. No siree. We'd have a hundred rancherole answers around us. We'd be gobbled. But he says he'll swear on the virgin that no, Ms. Godfrey answers the ranger, I'd never, if I live to get through, dare to tell sharp, that I let you put such risk upon yourself. Besides, taint possible you'd get through. You put that wild idea out of your head, get into your blankets, and sleep it off. And goes away, leaving the girl more unhappy than ever. But into her reverie comes Carmelita, and whispers to her sweetly but passionately. You say, Yankee Dona, you have news that if given to ill Capitan Hampton would prevent his throwing his life away, which I, de me, I fear he will do soon. No man can take such chances forever. Escapito balls pierce a gallant heart as well as a coward's. If you wish to give word to him, I'll try to aid you. But Mr. Love says it isn't possible we'd get through. Doubtless, that would be true with a few armed soldiers. But Floritos' performing troop will not be touched by rancheros. We are free of attack. One night we dance to Canales Mexicans. The next night we amuse Gillespie's rangers, or McCullers' mounted men. We're free to all. Now if you alone go with us, you become a member of Floritos' traveling troop. A dancing girl like myself, eh? Oh, goodness, half-shutters, Ms. Godfrey blushingly, gazing at the outer costume in which Carmelita stands before her. But a moment after she adds, still I might journey with you. You might say I was a dancing girl, and I could keep my face veiled after the manner of the Mexicanas, and I don't think I'd be noticed. Of course not. Come with us. The hundred pesos for Floritos. Come with us. But don't tell wild-eyed Harry. A word to him and he wouldn't let you go. He has already warned you, hasn't he? Yes. It is your option. You can have word with Captain Hampton, or you can let him die unknowing what you wish to say. I'll have word with Captain Hampton, answers Estrella excitedly. That wretched blood shall not forever stand between us. Here's your hundred pesos. She gives it to Carmelita in gold, from a little sack she carries out her belt. Go make the arrangements. What time do we leave? At two o'clock in the morning, when all sleep. But we must go out quietly, and Carmelita departs. To herself, Estrella communes devotedly, I'll take the chance. It's been so weary, waiting, a month. And he thinking all the time that wretched blood was that of my father. And so there could be no hope for us together in this life. Yes, I'll see sharp tomorrow or the next day. See him, O heaven, will the clouds pass away, and the sunshine break forth upon us again. After a moment Miss Godfrey becoming calmer sits down and writes in pencil. There is no pen and ink in the place. Upon some pages of a memorandum book, certain instructions to Mr. Martin, old guardian, who by this time she thinks must be at the Hacienda of live oaks taking charge of its enormous state. For now she has discovered large sums of money in New Orleans banks, and the tremendous flocks and herds and fields of which she is possessed. But her riches have perhaps only hastened her speeding after her affianced, separated her by her terrible misapprehension. Unable to get news to Hampton, Estrella had desperately come down to Meta Morse, then up the Rio Grande to Camargo, where she had left Zelma behind her, wishing to be free for rapid travel, the Octorone being unaccustomed to horse exercise. So she riding Indian fashion as she had come over the prairie with revolvers in her belt under love's escort, had journeyed overtaking various columns of Taylor's infantry and regiments of cavalry and battalions of artillery. As the fair girl has passed through, the rough soldiers' hats have been raised quietly to her, they thinking she is some young widow or some daughter coming down for her dead. For many brave spirits have passed of wounds and more of fever along that track from Camargo to Monterey, and many more will die as they storm the Mexican citadel ere they plant the American flag on the bishop's palace. With this letter, which he addresses to Alexander Martin, and with another that dares the name of Sharp Hampton, the young lady comes out of the little adobe house and wanders to the Fandango, which is still in progress, though the torches are burning more dimly. Here she finds a dashing young officer of maize dragoons to whom she says, Lieutenant Pelham. And he, looking at her, whispers, Miss Godfrey, how can I serve you and raises his hat, though courteously, quite formally, for already this young man knows that there is no hope for him of the fair girl's love. In case there is any accident to me, would you kindly deliver this letter to Captain Hampton? You, I think, owe it to me for the wild words you spoke to him that evening in Corpus Christi that kept his tongue silent so long. Of course, you know, we are affianced. Yes, matters the dragoon, I know that, and for my impulsive words I will deliver this letter to Captain Hampton if I die doing it. But you spoke of some accident to you. There is some danger here, of course, to everyone. Have you anything particular to fear? No, except that I shall be without escort. Tomorrow I journey by a quicker way than your column would take. That must not be, Christ Pelham earnestly, that must not be. I've got to go. I have got to find Sharp before the next fight, answers Cistrella frantically. Every minute from him is danger to him. I've got to tell my affiance there is no reason for his leaving me, who was to be his bride within forty-eight hours, leaving me almost at the church door. He thinks you untrue to him, gasps the dragoon in low, astonished voice. Thank God, not that. Sharp thinks he has killed my father, when it was only a vile wretch impersonating him. Should you meet Sharp Hampton, tell him he did the kindest deed man could do for woman in shooting down the false Jim Godfrey, who pretending fatherhood would have made my broken heart the buttress of his safety against the world. Sharp will understand. The story is too painful for me to tell in detail. Goodbye. Thank you for your promise. Miss Godfrey goes quietly away and finding the company's quartermaster sergeant delivers to him for transportation her letter to Martin, and also a short note requesting him to hand it to Private Harry Love at Reveley. Whereupon, early this morning, long before daybreak, a strange cavalcade gets in motion. It consists of Floreto's troop of traveling performers. Among them rides Estrella Godfrey, looking not so unlike Carmelita, being dressed in the riding costume, usual to Mexican girls. In front of her travels the one-legged clown, who has now become two-legged, straddling his horse with the grace of a vequero. The boy who, through somersaults the evening before, is an equally good equestrian, and leads a couple of pack mules laden with the performing costumes and the impedimenta of the party. So they take their way, out of the little Mexican village passing the American sentries, to whom Floreto delivers a pass, signed by the commanding officer. Though the showman seems to be known quite well to the outposts, one of them saying, That was a mighty good show you gave us last night. But, by Pike County, you didn't trot out both of your dancing girls. He glances towards Ms. Godfrey, who is heavily veiled with her rubozo tapato. Yes, my debutante, chuckles Floreto. She dances for the first time at the next pueblo. Then they take their way, off a trail, leading by a rushing brook that comes, foaming from the sierras, behind which the moon is now sinking, its last rays illumining heavy chaperrill of cacti, Spanish daggers, mesquites, and prickly pears. Though higher up among the hills are pines and furs, with every step of mule foot along the rocky path, Ms. Godfrey thinks excitedly, I am getting nearer to my love. But Floreto, as he rides, the last of the party, grins to himself, Diablo, a grand ransom, and likewise a grand revenge, the affianced wife of the ranger captain, who courted me publicly on the plaza of Metamorris, or Dios, and she my prey, whom I will make my peon, and coin her charms into money, till I let her ransom herself and make me rich. As for Carmelita, perhaps she has some conscience, for once or twice riding by the side of her beautiful fellow peon, she has opened her lips impulsively, as if to say some words of warning. But each time the very loveliness of her exquisite American rival has made her snap her pearly teeth together, like a vicious peccary. The Spy Company, a story of the Mexican War by Archibald Clevering-Gutter Book 5, Beyond the Rio Grande Chapter 18, The Wave of the Border From Monterrey, the capital of Nueva León, now be-leagued by General Taylor's army, extends a mountain valley running something over 40 miles to a little southwest of the town of Saltillo, a long upland plateau burying in width from a few hundred yards to four or five miles. It is quite well cultivated for Mexico. Having a number of cornfields, watered by the San Juan River, which gradually towards the south, diminishes into a little stream. On both sides, it is bordered by the almost impassable mountains of Sierra Madre. Most of the escarpments of which are very steep. Up this valley passes the main and only road capable of the transportation of artillery or the necessary impedimenta of an army marching from Monterrey south to attack San Luis Potosi en route from the city of Mexico. But a cut-off, a narrow mule path leaving the immediate rear of Monterrey, leads through the high mountains and after a number of miles of rocky trail, over commanding heights, and dizzy precipices re-enters the Saltillo Valley. Monterrey being now surrounded by the American army, worths division having gotten in the rear of it and cut its garrison off from the main road. This rocky defile is the only path open for passage of infantry or light cavalry reinforcements to the garrison of the beleaguered city, though utterly impassable to artillery and heavy accoutred men. Into this trail leads the little mountain path over which Florito and his party, escorting Miss Godfrey journeying through the hills from the east, descend upon the third day, after the night of the Fandango. Florito thinks it is far from the highways of troops, as he has no wish to surrender this valuable young lady he is luring into captivity to rancheros. Under his guidance they have gone at first towards Monte Morelos, then they have turned west, through the hills which gradually have become higher. Finally passing the divide, they have spent two nights at little mountain ranchos, and are now descending into the main Saltillo Valley, nearly a score of miles southwest of Monterrey. At the junction of these two trails just out of the big valley is a little Pueblo, nestled in the hills and well sheltered among woods of mountain timber. From it running down into the main plateau the path is wider and less precipitous, and might even permit the passage of a well-horsed, light field piece, though the gorge leading to the mountains is impracticable to any but horsemen or fortmen. As Miss Godfrey, in company with Florito and his party, rides into this little Mexican town towards evening, she scarce notices the place itself which seems very quiet and peaceful, though from the northeast comes a low faint, very distant rumbling which she thinks is thunder, though it is the roar of cannon, telling of dying brave men around the distant walls of assaulted Monterrey. All the young lady's eyes show her is that there is a long, narrow defile leading through the great mountains to the north, and into this descends the smaller mule path that she has traveled. That beyond this, almost with gorge debauches upon the plateau, is a little town of adobes containing the ordinary plaza on one side of which is the usual Mexican church built of stone, with its little peculiar shaped belfry. Opposite this on the other side of the plaza stands a half-ruined monastery. About it, cactus-covered walls also of stone, in which are visible the orange trees, flowers and grapevines of a deserted garden. This religious house has probably been abandoned by its monks from the time of the Mexican War of Independence. Slightly nearer to them is a lower building, presumably, once a convent for women. It adjoins the monastery, yet fronts another side of the plaza. Over all this, lighting the gorge and making red the Saltillo Valley beyond is the great tropic sun sinking behind the higher peaks of the Sierra Madre. But in the red glow that illumines the unpaved streets, though her eyes seek for them hungrily, as those of a traveler on the desert looking for an oasis, she notes no Texan rangers. As their little cavalcade comes jingling into it, she can see only a few rurales of the nearby valley, a lot of cigarette-smoking mozos and leporos, and a few godly skirted poblanos who lounge about in their free Mexican style, though this evening the very distant thunderstorm to the north seems to put some excitement into them. These crowd about the little party, as Florita halts his cabalada, in front of the deserted convent whose adobe walls are quite thick, having grated windows and an unusually strong reja fixed on its heavily studded street door, though the ironwork is rendered weak by the rest of generations. This ruined convent Florita's party takes possession of with scant ceremony, their chief hurrying off in his active Latin way to plant his banner in the plaza and see the alcade as to arrangements for the upcoming exhibition. Here in a big room with grated windows opening upon the plaza, Camerilita says, he hold our quarters, and perhaps to make herself comfortable, laughing, as Estrella shudders, at the alecrans, centipedes, and scorpions that they find wandering about its corners and crevices. Do with them as I do, she cries, vivaciously, as she crushes an alacan under her little foot. But even these reptiles affect Ms. Godfrey's mind only passingly. She has sunk upon a pile of blankets, they have tossed down for her on the mud floor, and is thinking only of meeting Hampton, which now seems to her almost suspiciously delayed. After a little she watches lazily, for she is quite tired, the hastily lighted fire, and the tortillas being made upon a hot stone by a girl who seems to be the maid of all work of the party, and who sold mescal and refreshments at Floritos Fandango for evenings before, likewise the Olapadrita, which is being cooked in an iron pot, plenty of chili colorado being tossed into it with sufficient of garlic to make her open her nostrils. During this, the American girl runs over in her mind rather dreamily the incidents of her strange journey, which through the mountains has been quite coolly pleasant compared with that of the hot roads over the lower plains. During her travels she has received complacent attention from her fellow travelers and much encouragement from little Florito, who as he has written beside her has whispered to her every now and then, vamos, el capitán Hampton is ahead of us. To this she has said, you seem to know his company's movements very well, and the little scoundrel being anxious to keep up her resolution and incite her to rapid riding has disclosed to her rather unconsciously, though he is far away from Mexican lancers, that he has been at times a spy for the Americanos, and thus knows Hampton's probable location. I have been with the Texan captain on and off this month, so has Carmelita, he says, between puffs of his cigarette. We have been valuable to him in, oh, you understand, information. Carmelita and I could go into Monterey unquestioned. You have been with Captain Hampton, and she has been with Captain Hampton for the last month, mutters Ms. Guthrie, and looks with uneasy eyes at the beauty of the dancing girl who is riding in her graceful Mexican style near the head of the party. Cerrito, Carmelita, is quite the right hand of the American captain. She would do anything for him. You understand quite the right hand. Ah, yes, I believe I understand, sighs Estrella, though she cannot believe his words. Yet once or twice in the last day or two, thinking of this, she has said to herself, why should I try to see him? If Sharp really loved me, he could not. Then, shuddered, why not? He thinks a father's blood stands between us and I am lost to him forever. This has affected her spirits as she has ridden over the steep mountain passes, the shore hooves of Mulefoot carrying her safely across the dizzy trail. Several times she has cried mentally. It is a duty. Under the circumstances, I will tell this man. Then has tearfully faltered, if he has no hope of me, what may he not have carelessly done? May he not have tried to forget me in? She cannot continue the cruel thought. She simply wrings her hands and begins to hate Carmelita as thoroughly as Carmelita hates her. As for Carmelita, several times during this curious journey she has looked upon her lovely companion when they have got to chatting together, as girls will do, even if they hate each other with strange spasms of conscience in her eyes. Once she and Florito have had a very angry discussion, the little showman bandit raising his cuerta to the dancing girl, and she putting her little hand upon the stiletto in her bosom, as muttered snarlingly, the time has passed for that caramba, a blow and you are dead. Then she has laughed yearingly, there are tenderer shoulders than mine, each your other slave. But Miss Godfrey doesn't know the covert suggestion of Carmelita's words and journeys unsuspectingly along. For all through this curious ride, even after the days have passed in which Florito has promised she should encounter the Texan ranger, she has had but little thought of her own personal peril. She has grown so accustomed to thinking of Hampton's danger that her own risk seldom rises in her mind. Besides, she feels quite confident of her own powers of self-defense. Has she not the ranger's two five shooters at her belt? And does she not know how to use these arms with precision and effect? Her chance she wouldn't be as confident of their value did she remember that at the last halt, where she had unbuckled for her convenience the belt that carries the heavy weapons and put them by her side, that Carmelita has attracted her attention by taking her to see some wild flowers growing in a rocky nook, lovely orchids that are found very beautiful in Mexico, that when she has returned from this only a few steps away in a little neighboring gorge, Florito's manner has been much easier, and he has chuckled right merrily to himself as she has buckled on the belt containing her weapons. The retrospection is interrupted by the return of Florito, who says contentedly, Carmelita, I've seen the alcade. We perform this evening in the little plaza. But Ms. Godfrey starting up asks him any news of the spy company. No, no news of the rangers, he grins, but we are going towards them tomorrow. He waves his hand towards the west. But Florito's only intention is to get as far as possible from the rangers, and in fact he doesn't care to be bothered by Mexican rancheros. They might take his valuable captive from him. In his mind is the pleasing thought. Tomorrow we will cross the valley and enter the main range. A few days from now we will be in their fastnesses, well away from the contending armies, where I can make this rica girl write such tearful letters that they will send for her delivery whole mule loads of silver. Diablo, then I will become a rica myself. So over their supper he gets to chatting quite merrily, saying to Carmelita, who has already put herself into dancing toilet, Santos, you're pretty enough to make a saint want to kiss you. And chucking her under the chin would perhaps place a salute upon the dewy cherries she calls lips. But she steps back and raising quick as lightning a stiletto. Utters this astonishing sentiment for a woman. Florito, dare to tell me I am beautiful again and I'll kill you. My lips are only for one man. Who never kisses them, sneers the acute little scoundrel. At this cruel scoff Carmelita looks at him with agonized face, then throws up her hands and gasps, I dame me, and sinks down upon a pile of blankets crying as if her heart would break. While the volatile little showman goes chucklingly away to engage behind torches to illuminate this evening's exhibition in the plaza. Looking upon this a curious thought enters Miss Godfrey. For whom does she keep her lips? Hampton, who never kisses them. And for every sob of Carmelita there is a rapturous hope in American girl's heart. Quite shortly afterwards hope is changed to terror. Florito flies in excitedly and cries, Santos, you see them? What, the spy company? Ejaculates Miss Godfrey, starting up wildly. No, Maldito, the accursed Lancers of Canales. See, they are coming up to defile from the Saltillo Road. Looking through the greater windows, Miss Godfrey notices, in the dusk, a column of rough-riding Lancers. The colors of their little green, white, and red Mexican flag. Its center emblazoned by an Aztec eagle, being apparent in the light of the torches flaming for Florito's exhibition in the plaza. To the little showman's rage, these fellows, some hundred of them, make their preparations for the night, putting up a picket, further up the canyon, and lighting fires in the plaza. The bulk of the men occupying the church and their officers, going off to the Alcade's house for their supper. Hearing out to them, Miss Godfrey thinks, these are the men, from whom Hampton rescued me by putting the Comanches on them five months ago. And in all this time, the man I love, and I have had but one, one blessed interview, in which we told our passion to the other. And now, when I had hoped to see his dashing rangers, these ruffians again, cut me off from him. Fate is against me. Fate seems also to be against Florito. He is not very eager for the Lancers of Canales. The beasts will give me next to nothing, he snarls. And they'll want everything, every dance, every contortion, every performer among us. Then he cries suddenly to Miss Godfrey, keep your head from the window, girl. Next mutters a frightedly, Diablo. You will have to appear now. I? This is a half-scream from the American girl. Yes, the mozos are chattering of my two dancing girls. I mentioned you in my troop to the Alcade. For your own safety, you will have to be a figurante. Otherwise, the officers of these devil Lancers, if they guess, will demand you as their prisoner, and then Santos y Moritos. What will happen to you? I? I? A dancing girl? Stammers, Estrella, getting red to the roots of her hair. So, Rito, why not? You can dance. Oh, yes, but only ballroom steps. Jaspita, that's the idea, ballroom steps. A novelty. La Polca is now the favorite dance of Mexico. Polca, hi, kick your feet in air. Polca after the Parisian manner. Carmelita, make her look like you. He goes away, leaving Miss Godfrey trembling and confused. As for Carmelita, a kind of nasty triumph is in her eyes, she is thinking. Hampton turned up his nose at me, the dancing girl. Bueno. She will be no better than I am. And then her beauty and Canales officers. Madre de Dios. It is a devilish thing I am doing. But she goes with eager hands, making Estrella, like herself, chatting laughingly. You will never be discovered. Bah, some yellow clay, and some wild cherry juice upon those pretty white legs of yours, and they'll be as brown as mine. My skin as white as yours? Your face is as tanned as mine now. It is only sunshine, and Carmelita pulls her chemise from her shoulders, showing them as beautifully formed and as dazzlingly white, where protected from the sun as even those of the fair American. Jesus, dressed like me, floating Robozo on your head, comb and castanets, Viya, you're a dancing girl. During this she has been getting the American girl into a costume, like onto hers, that she pulls from one of the saddlebags. In this, though unaided, she has not been resisted by Ms. Godfrey. For in her agitation, Estrella doesn't know exactly what to do. She is thinking of Canales awful answers. In her ears is ringing Floritos' terrible insinuation. And then, Santos y Moritos, what will happen to you? In a state of modest coma, Ms. Godfrey permits Carmelita to unbind her hair, and do it up in the floating Spanish fashion, with comb and lace Robozo floating from it, and allows even her shoulders to be stained with the wild cherry juice, which Manola, the girl attendant, has brought in. Though glancing down upon herself now in the dancing girl's costume, she knows she could easier die than pose in this semi-nudity of limbs and bosom before the crowd gathering in the plaza. Mistaking the repugnance, on Estrella's face, Carmelita, Carmelita says reassuringly, Idiot, don't be frightened, you look well enough. They're dad, you've got the finest shape in all Mexico. Putting a blazing torch before a cracked mirror that she uses during personal adornment, she places her arm about Estrella's waist, and half pulls the American girl to it. Here, look in the glass. She laughs, then ejaculates in a dazed way, Santisima Virgin, wears like as two cherries. Miss Godfrey carelessly gazing into the mirror starts, astounded. For face to face, the heads of both girls crowned with Spanish combs and floating lace scarves, their hair unbound and mixed together, their delicate shoulders and bosoms, side by side, rising from the snowy chemises, they look like copies of the same painting. Though Carmelita's figure is a little slenderer and her eyes and hair are slightly darker. The features of both have the same cast, their eyes the same expression, their faces the most striking resemblance of family and blood. Jesus, wears like as two sisters, laughs Carmelita. Like as two sisters, cries Estrella, looking at the mirror as if fascinated, like as two sisters. She ponders a moment and then asks eagerly, You, you told me you were the wave of the border. Who were your father and mother? Devil knows, jeers Carmelita, apparently they look like your father and mother. Did I not tell you once I had a sister stolen? Your age, asks Estrella, her voice tender but anxious. Kian Sabay, the sisters at Chihuahua, got me when I must have been about four. They called me twelve when I left them. I, I'm eighteen now. But why are you bothering with these questions? Let me get you ready for La Polca. You remembering nothing of your past? No memory floats to you? Goes on, Miscotery, unheating. Yes, my first rack election was a kick of a mule and my second, a crack from a quitter. And my, but don't you dare cry for me. I'm tough as raw hide. Besides, I had a bauble once, a little circle. It was of gold. So I lost it at Monty. Bet it against a silver dollar. A circle like mine cries Estrella. Yes, did you win it from the Monty man? Besides, there was a word. The word, you remember? Oh, it was, it wasn't even Americano. Sounded like the priest's Latin. Yes, I must have heard it at Mass. What was it? Well, it was some name or something. What are you asking me these questions for? Caramba. What are you excited about? Here's the cherry juice. Let me make those white legs as brown as mine. Think, think, please think, cries Estrella. Nothing till you think. Well, it was C. Bill. Then Carmelita snarls angrily. Curse you, don't kiss me. For the other has got her arm around her and is half crying, half whispering. Sibyl, I believe you're my sister. Ah, don't try that dodge on me to get my sympathy. Scops Carmelita, pulling herself away. If you were my sister, do you suppose I could stand by and see you? She snaps her pearly teeth together and goes away murmuring in a shame-faced manner. Sister, sister. That would be bad luck. Sister, Santisima Virgin. Then I couldn't hate her. Still, this consideration seems to have some weight on the dancing girl's mind. Quite shortly after, Floreto, coming and crying, Canales and his officers are all ready for the show and asking eagerly. Let me look at my debutante. Carmelita, drawing him aside, whispers. Impossible to display her. Look at her trying to hide herself from you. That extraordinary attribute the Maricanos call shame would betray her. Canales must not guess you have a Yankee with you. You have been going too much lately with Americanos for your own safety. If they suspected you had been a Yankee spy, poor little Floreto would be stood against that church wall and filled as full as escapita balls as pigs are with stuffing. Santos e demonios. I believe you're right. Shudders the little fellow with white lips hastily throwing a syrupy over Miscot free. He whispers, keep close girl for your own life. Don't burn any lights. Carmelita shall dance in your place and I will if questioned. Say you are ill of the fever or the vomito. That will keep them away. The Carmelita gazing at him mutters excitedly to herself. What devilish thing has Floreto in his eyes? When Floreto blinks, look out for him. Santa Maria, he has blinked four times. End of chapter 18, recording by John Brandon. Book 5, Chapter 19 of The Spy Company. A story of the Mexican War by Archibald Clavering Gutter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon. Book 5, Beyond the Rio Grande, Chapter 19, The Spy Company. So the two leave Estrella in the dark, bat-haunted, insect-crawling place. She hears Carmelita's light voice die away in the distance. Likewise, the exclamations of the clown who has become again one-legged and the acrobatic boy as they go out to performance. Then after a time from the plaza float in the shouts and Buenos of the crowd as the performance seems to go merrily along. Though the illumination of the torches in the plaza puts a dull radiance into portions of the room, Ms. Godfrey doesn't look out or heed this very much. She is meditating of the sister she has claimed, and her heart becomes tender to the wave of the frontier. She sighs, thinking of the uncared-for child, tossed helpless among the rough men of the border, Mexicans, Yankees, and half-breeds, whose diversion, Carmelita, must have been at Fandango's and Fair's, whose batonage applause and admiration the dancing girl had been compelled to accept as part of her very business, controlled by a master who cares for nothing but dollars. By this time, Estrella gauges Florito's character very well, though there is a crafty zine at the villainy in The Little Fellow that later will make her blood run very cold in her veins. Then, under the marshal's sounds without, for they are changing centuries, her mind drifts to the man she loves, but scarce hopes to see again. Thinking of Hampton, she shudders at Canales. About this time, Ms. Godfrey can hear horses hoops, coming in at a gallop along the mountain trail from the north towards Monterey, and every now and then the dull, distant thunder seems to float through the mountain pass, though it never gets nearer, and there is no lightning. Then there are fiercer cries and great excitement from without, and the listening girl hears horses hooves again, though these go rapidly down into the main valley, but the hasty words of two men passing along the side of the plaza by her greater dwindle tell her that the booming of distant thunder to the north is the American attack on Monterey. Likewise, that for some unknown reason, reinforcements have been sent for by Canales. Hearing this, Estrella rings her hands and cries out in despair. Florito again promised that tomorrow I should meet Hampton and his dashing rangers, and now more of these ruffian lancers to make escape impossible, so it goes along in her mind. Carmelita, Hampton, Canales, each bringing misery to her, till almost morning, the revelry being still kept up outside, as these aguerrante drinking rancheros are not troops under regular discipline. As daylight comes into the great room through its big barred openings, danger imminent and degrading confronts the watching girl. Carmelita enters hastily and goes nervously about exchanging her dancing costume for the riding dress in which she travels. Then she lights a cigarette, and as she puffs it, communes with herself, as if trying to fight down a rising conscience. A courier has come from the north. Canales has sent to Muertos for reinforcements. A colonel of cavalry may head them. Before his commanding officer arrives, Canales will take action. She walks up to Estrella and mutters, Jesus, why have you made me a devil? Why have you loved the man I love? Why have you made his face cold to me? Why have you caused him to turn from my proffered lips? A dancing girl's lips are proffered to too many, says Ms. Godfrey, rising hotly, agony, and despair have embittered her tongue. Oh, yes, a dancing girl, but still, like you. Cold northern creature immaculate, Karamba, don't turn from me, as if I were contaminated immaculate as you. I was a child when I first saw the handsome captain and loved him. As he kept me from a beating, a child. Since that time I've held my lips for him as surely as safely as you, cold northern beauty, have preserved your lips. It's easy to be virtuous when one loves but one man, and he won't love you. Then she cries petulantly, stop kissing me. For Estrella has got carmelita in her arms and is caressing and sobbing over her and blessing her, because sharp Hampton has not succumbed to her witcheries and allurements. Oh, you needn't thank me, thank him. When Trap has lain out on the open plain at night, when Floreto and I have been engaged in going through the Mexican lines and bringing him information, I have crawled to him to kiss him, and in his sleep he has murmured your name. Oh, I could have driven knife through him or through myself. That's why I have kept from him your carmelita snaps her teeth together, but hangs her head in a shame-faced way. That's why you're here about to be. She pauses again and cries. No, no. You have called me sister. I must save you from that, and hastily throws a cloak over Estrella. Save me from what? Floreto. That little villain must sacrifice you to save his beastly life. Made arrogant by Aguariante, he foolishly showed the gold you had given him and what he had picked up by other efforts, some of it from the man you love. Canales always wants all the gold he sees. The guerrilla officer had heard reports that Floreto had been an agent for Los Yankees, so they will shoot Floreto for a spy if they spare not his life for some big ransom. Floreto knows that, and his big ransom will be you, your charms and beauty. Me shrieks Estrella, springing up and passes to the door as if to try to fly, but carmelita puts detaining arm upon her and mutters sadly. Too late. For staggering in is little Floreto. His cunning face very pale, his snake-like eyes excited, his lithe limbs trembling. A burning torch is in his hand. As if he feared Estrella might conceal herself. This he sticks into the mud floor of the room, murmuring apologetically, after himself, after his victim, there is nothing for it. Canales, if I give you to him, will after, his tongue seems ashamed to utter the devilish thought, after a time permit you to be ransomed. That money the guerrilla officer will divide with me. But otherwise he accuses me of horrible things. Me, a Mexican patriot. He hints I am a Yankee spy and threatens a court-martial. A drumhead don't take ten minutes. Suddenly the little chap listens and gasps tremblingly. Dios, I can hear the guard loading their arms now. To this he adds in devilish yet faltering philosophy. Man when his life is in danger must do everything to protect it. It is his duty you see, then you read a Godfrey. His duty. For Estrella has thrown herself upon her knees and is pleading. For God's sake, don't. Don't give me over to Canales. But seeing he still moves towards the door, the American girl suddenly springs up, commands hoarsely, you shall not. And drawing her revolver cites him by the torchlight. To calmly as she calls, bar that door, and to the showman, says sternly, move an inch to tell them you have me captive here, and it is your last step. The pistol is leveled very straight and doesn't tremble. But the little fellow with a mocking laugh still moves from her. Then God forgive you and forgive me, mutters the brave girl, and shoots to kill. But the lock on her revolver only snaps. She turns the cylinder again, aiming very straight, pulls the trigger once more, but no report answers the sharp click of the lock. To her jeers florito. You forgot you've left your pistols aside when Carmelita took you to see the wild flowers in the glen. Oh, you conscienceless wretch, cries Estrella, turning in despairing reproach upon the dancing girl, you whom I once called sister, you. Then she falters. Deserted for Carmelita with a muttered, forgive me, has run out of the door and florito has darted after her, and is now bolting the door upon the outside. The girl hears the bars coming down one after the other, then the click of a rusty lock. Though the dastard calls through in guarded voice, courage, I want all your ransom. I shall not give you up till I am looking at the guns of the firing party. Dios de mi madre, I am a man of honor. Fortunately, in this moment of despair, Estrella Gottfried's pistols are unfireable. Else she would kill herself, and thus make sure Canales never will put his paws upon her. But now the very helplessness of her situation forces her to inertness, gazing about the big empty mud-flored room into which she has been locked. The girl feels sure its doors will never open except for her delivery to the bandit chieftain. She looks at her nude white limbs and uncovered shoulders and shutters. I will not be dragged out in this shameless garb, and hurriedly throws off the light costume of the dancing girl, and contrives to put herself once more in the Indian riding dress she had worn. During this, she has once or twice attracted by noises in the plaza, looked out with staring eyes. By the increasing morning light, she has seen apparently a drum head court-martial of three or four officers gathered together outside the church. It is scarce three hundred feet away. Before them, she recognizes Florito. She knows he will not tell of her until his last chance is gone. She is too valuable to share her ransom with another. But now what passes before her swimming eyes makes her shiver, as if she had the egg. She sees the firing party being drawn up. Florito is about to be dragged to the fatal wall. With wild gesticulation, he has beckoned imploringly, canales apart, and talked hurriedly to him, and that guerrilla chief with long black mustache, dark ferocious, merciless eyes, is laughing, and looking at her place of imprisonment, and giving some hurried orders. But just here, a mounted man, coming down the trail from the north, hurries into the plaza, and draws the scoundrel's attention from her, by crying out, Americanos. The laugh and triumph stop on the guerrilla chief's face. Estrella sees his officers hurriedly marshalling all his men. Surely to see a poor girl, they wouldn't need so many, she thinks, and noting canales point up the cannon. She follows his motion and gives a gasp of crazy joy. Coming down from the north along the trail are a company of mounted men. By their garb and armament, she knows they are rangers, and looking with all her eyes can't believe them. Her limbs tremble as the fear of death is lifted from them. She whispers, the spy company, then cries, sharp Hampton, he's here, I'm saved. To herself she laughs, canales men are gliding away. They have no wish to battle with even these few Americanos. Then pauses horrified in her triumph, for she notes the Mexicans are preparing an embuscade. Some fifty of them going quietly with their escapitas into the church that the Texans must ride past. The rest are hurriedly mounting and arraying themselves. She sees under the mists of the morning a cloud of dust, very distant, coming up the broad Saltia Valley. She remembers Carmelita's words and mutters to herself with white lips, reinforcements from Muertos. It is an embuscade. Hampton pursuing the cavalry will ride into the deadly fuselage from the church. I must warn him. She would lift up her voice and scream out, but knows the Texans are too far distant. A few cries won't frighten sharp Hampton, she thinks, then suddenly grows very pale. For by the rising sun she sees from each house and even from the church itself, the mozos and poblanos of the town are waving white flags and handkerchiefs and shutters, flags of truce to kill the man I love. In her excited anguish she attacks the door with her little feet and hands, as if she would break it down and run out to warn him. Then seeing oak planks are too strong for her fragile strength, she seizes bruising her flesh against them and for sharp Hampton's sake forces herself to become cool and think with all her might. Suddenly she takes the cylinder from her revolver and examines it. A second later she cries joyously. Florito only spoiled the caps and goes to refilling the nipples with powder. And from a little pouch in her belt recaps the weapon. Running to the window, white flags are floating everywhere, no signs of ambush from the church and Canales heading his squadron is apparently retreating down the defile to lure the Texans on. Putting the revolver up through the grating of the window, Astrella fires two shots into the air in quick succession and finds it gives the Texans warning. The little command of some thirty rangers that have been coming down the trail cautiously, though they have quickened their pace at seeing the flags of truce thrown not only from the ordinary dwellings of the town, but from the church itself, suddenly pause at the pistol shots. She sees Hampton hastily knock up two or three rifles that are level towards the opening from which she fired and whispers to herself, thank God they know it is a friend. Then noting that detections after reconordering and discovering Canales mounted lancers at the other end of the street turn their horses heads and ride back and seeming flight up the canyon. She rings her hands at anguish and moans. They are retreating. I have saved Sharp, but taken the last hope from myself. Though she can hardly believe her eyes, and remembering Carmelita's description of the dread nature of this command sneers, for men who want to die, the spy company seems to take very good care of their lives. At this moment seeing the backs of the rangers, the lancers who are on horseback headed by Canales himself, can no longer hold themselves. With shouts of rage and cries of victory in their excited Mexican way, they spur past the church and up the canyon after the retreating Texans and nearly reach them. Then in a flash all is changed. The Texans wheel quickest terriers whose tails are grabbed and meet the lancers with shots from deadly revolvers so coolly discharged that almost to each report a ranchero falls off his horse. Oh merciful heaven. They killed nearly twenty at the first fire. Oh those murderous pistols screams the excited girl. Ah they're all coming this way together. For with pistol shots ringing out the spy company is now in the very midst of the lancers. The whole concourse coming into the town in hideous medley, dying men falling from their horses at every jump. Estrella nearly laughs as she sees the boy lieutenant called the bravo, who leaves smoking a cigarette, dodge under a ranchero's lance and shoot him down like lightning. So they come past the captive's window into the plaza in front of the church from which the Mexicans in ambuscade dare not shoot, being as liable to hit friend as foe. Then Estrella gives another elated scream. For though shooting and fighting to its very gates as the Texans reach the stone walled convent garden they swing off and ride in. Here springing off their horses they man the cactus covered wall and pelt with rifle shots the Mexicans in the church opposite. Oh what a lovely ruse yells the girl and dancing about with excitement careless of shots some of which have lodged quite near to her continues her comment. They have hardly lost a man and now with their rivals against escapitas will soon make those in the church throw up their hands and wave real flags of truce it is the last of canales sharp killed him for she has seen the gorilla chief fall from his horse to Hampton's pistol as the ranger wheeled into the convent garden. Then another look comes into Estrella's eyes though this tender creature has no pity for the man who would have made her his prey the bodies of two or three Texans lying down the road stabbed to death with lances make her ring her hands the girl has little time for sympathy her eyes are too much engrossed with the combat that goes on about her at its opening quite in favor of the americans whose deadly rifle balls search each orifice and window in the church opposite to them slaughtering the rancheros who fire upon them so the thing goes on for an hour then the Texan fire grows more deliberate apparently they don't care to use a great deal of ammunition she wonders if it is to make preparation for the regiment of lancers she can see coming up the salteo plane with them a light field piece heavily hoarse truck must be warned to retreat she thinks before numbers overwhelm him and would go forth through the hail storm of bullets in the plaza to give him information what the strong oak door locked and barred by florito makes this impossible she knows its strength too well to attack it into her mind made active by excitement flashes there may be some other way she goes looking about the great apartment which up to this time she had only carelessly inspected being kept from its distant portions by its wandering alecrans and centipedes its recesses are dark but relighting the torch florito has left behind him she makes a hasty search finally discovering a little portal unfastened which apparently leads to the rest of the building she opens it and goes groping by torchlight through the dark passageways and cells of the old convent disturbing now and again a snake that rustles from her all the time the faint reports of musketry and rifles outside show the fight is going on in other days she would have gone shuttering crouching trembling through the gloomy root now she strides with revolver in one fair hand and torch in the other finally she finds to her eager searching a passageway leading first into a little chapel then into the convent once used by the old priests the din outside of this is terrific showing that she is close to the combat issuing very cautiously from this she crouches down behind a stone ballast raid looking from a low terrace despite musketballs and escapita slugs that whistle about her upon an awful sight the day is a bright tropic one the hot sun shines down through a little heat haze upon the church across the square shrouded in the smoke of its musket tree in the foreground are the orange trees plants and flowers of the priest's garden their leaves dropping and their twigs and branches falling to the earth cut away by pelting musketry just in front of these manning the cactus covered wall of stone are the spy company marketing their reckless lives at a very stiff price in mexican blood wounded and unwounded the slender lines of rangers defend this wall against tremendous odds for already some of the mexican reinforcements have arrived from muertos two or three dead bodies lying the orange trees of the garden and a dying gambler lying beside them desperately maimed is deliriously shrieking out copper the ace the rest are all at their posts and one a youth whose head is swathed with bloody bandage and whose pale face and ashen lips foretell coming death not strong enough to stand is half leaning on a couple of saddles and firing his rifle slowly and accurately doing his duty till he dies another an old hard featured scout of the frontier is patting him on the back and pouring down the dying boy's white lips the last drop of water from his canteen and laughing fully little johnny that was a great shot of yours that's watered a greaser sergeant further down the line she hears a saxon voice shouting of mounting guard in st james palace and looking sees the english lieutenant who carmelita said was a lord with a great big wound in his breast propped up and shooting his rifle but between shots raving of the royal horse guards blue and lords and honorables and dukes and duchesses behind this line is a sunny haired boy she recognizes as the bravo from carmelita's description he's walking up and down coolly smoking his cigarette though he has a cocked revolver in his other hand now and then giving orders to the rangers and selecting places for them to direct their fire but even this doesn't impress the girl so much as the figure of sharp hampton who is just springing on horse ready to dart out into the hail of bullets though noting the awful danger to him the little bravo has stepped up and between puffs of his cigarette has called sharp don't try it the boys can't spare you this trip to him hampton says i have got to we're at the very last cartridge the ammunition mule lies dead 300 yards up the street i've got to house harrowly he nods towards the english lieutenant going he's raving of hide park and he's got into the aristocracy he's fighting just the same gritty but going then when i'm away you're in command remember werth's orders are to hold this pass so that no cavalry and light troops get behind him while he's attacking the loma and the bishops palace hold it till till i stop smoking cigarettes laughs the boy that'll be long enough answers hampton now tell the boys to keep down the greasers fire till i get round the corner of the plaza misgothry is about to cry out to him but just then a man falls dead from the wall just in front of her and before her pale lips can frame an outcry hampton bending low in his saddle dashes through the half open gate the mexican musketry seems to give him heavy greeting but he yell from one or two of the men further down the wall tells her hampton has disappeared around the corner of the plaza then she sinks down to pray for him apparently her praying is not in vain for distant screams of rage and carambas and carajos float from the church opposite and the mexican shooting is stronger than ever despite the faint replies of the almost cartridge list texans then there is a yell and though the bullets fly faster from the church hampton comes dashing in springs off his dying horse and throws two big leather bags down in the garden behind the wall and says to the bravo close call they shot my sombrero off and clipped one of my spurs then the men come gradually down one or two at a time to replenish their cartridge pouches though a few old frontiersmen only take powder and ball loading their rifles in the kentucky way and using patched balls that go very straight during this astrella is trying to get down into the garden but finds no outlet from the terrace once or twice she wildly calls her sweetheart's name in the noise of battle the girl isn't heard for now the texans are intent upon a regiment of cavalry coming up from the valley ahead of it is a field piece dragged by 20 horses up the steep path and the bravo has cried there's a gun coming round the corner sharp then it must never be fired is the terse reply astrella hears the orders quietly given and a detail told off each man in rotation to shoot the first mexican gunner putting lintstock to that cannon almost as the words are spoken there is a quick trample of hooves and the gun dragged by 20 horses rapidly enters the plaza and is placed in position the texans holding their fire but as they wheel the field piece into position there is a noise as if a bunch of firecrackers was exploded from the wall and astrella sees half a dozen cannon ears go down though one apparently the sergeant of the section takes up the lintstock but to the crack of hampton's rifle he falls dead another ceases the port fire but a frontiersman shoots him down he staggers from the gun and tumbles dying on the plaza and so on every man trying to fire that cannon dies till all the gunners have been shot away then the mexican officers desperately put in a detail of dismounted lancers to do the work but none lives to reach the cannon and it stands only attended by dead men at this time the rest of the texans are keeping down the fire from the church they are not quite so many now one lies moaning with an escapita ball through both shoulders the boy who was mortally wounded and fighting on has given a gasp and dropped his rifle and the english lieutenant has screamed deliriously charge god save the queen and fallen from the wall of this astrella has seen little frantically trying to find entrance to the garden she has left the terrace and is exploring the vaults underneath the chapel now discovering a little narrow portal she has come crouching through the musketry pelted orange trees of the garden and is within a few feet of hampton even as she raises her voice to call him a shattering dread pulls ease her tongue the man she loves remarking to the sunny faced boy they call the bravo hang it they've got riottas around that gun they must never get it into the shelter of the church pulls both revolvers from his belt cocks them and runs out of the open gate into the hail of bullets on the plaza at this even the little lieutenant throwing his cigarette away mutters hopelessly that's certain death springing to the wall and clamoring up a little embrasure in it astrella appears over and sees hampton running straight at the six pounder that is surrounded by a new detail of men as he comes half a hundred muskets from the church across the plaza are leveled at him she shrieks sharp come back and frantically waves something she has plucked from her belt beseeching him to return then there are cries of astonishment from the texans hampton has shot the gunners all about the cannon and disabled the gun itself by firing up its vent not a mexican hand has been raised against him as he comes running back but now from the church arise enough anathemas and curses to almost unsanctify it and volley after volley of vengeful musketry but the spy company's fire is very deadly and makes the escapita shots inaccurate so sharp comes into the garden as if he had a charmed life here he says shortly and sternly boys what dastard have you raised a flag of truce upon this wall and made me murder those six mexican gunners murder greasers scream the men yes not one of them defended himself they thought we had surrendered i saw the white rag as i hurried back be dead we'd no more wave a flag of truce than the devil would drink holy water cheers an irish ranger the bravo simply says not one of us captain hoisted a white rag then they all pause astounded for a sweet girl's voice from the cactus screened part of the wall cries over the den i did gazing at her hampton gasps strulla good god you hear and reaching up plucked her to a place of greater safety i did says miss gothry stoutly the mexicans this morning waved flags of truce to lure you into ambush turnabout was fair play i waved a white hanker chiff to save your life end of book five chapter 19 recording by john brandon