Chapter XXII: The "silver Key" Again

Since these events happened I have asked myself many times whether I did right or wrong, and even now I scarcely know how to decide. Those who blamed me said I was Sorillo's guest, and should not have abused his confidence. Others urged that I was bound, if possible, to prevent him putting a man to death unlawfully. All, however, agreed that none but a madman would have embarked on so preposterous an enterprise.

The idea occurred to me suddenly. The guerillas, split up into groups, had gone, some this way, some that, to watch the movements of the Royalist troops. Sorillo had kept me company till we cleared the pass, when he, too, with a word of farewell, rode away. It was now dusk, and, as the chief had truly said, there was no time to waste; yet I did not move. Right in my path, with outstretched arms and pitiful, beseeching face, stood Rosa Montilla. I knew it was but the outcome of a fevered brain; yet the vision seemed intensely real.

The girl's eyes looked at me reproachfully, her lips moved as if in speech. I fancied I could hear again her parting cry, "O Juan, save him!"

I asked myself impatiently what more could be done. I had tried my best and failed, and there was an end of it. Besides, the words of the chief rang in my ears in ominous warning: Don Felipe could not be trusted! To set him free was like giving liberty to a venomous snake; his hatred would now be all the more bitter in that he had struck and failed.

Why should I add to my father's danger? The fellow had tried to slay him once; the next time he would make no mistake. I would make no further effort to help such a traitor; I would ride on. But again the beseeching face of the girl stopped me, and again I was moved to think how I could aid the miserable prisoner. Like a flash of lightning I thought of the silver key. _That_ would unlock his prison door. Although I fully believed in Don Felipe's guilt, I remembered he made no effort to defend himself. He would not admit Sorillo's right to try him. Before a lawful judge he might be able to vindicate his actions in some way; at least he should have the chance to do so. Thus thinking, I turned back in the direction of the ravine.

Half of the sentries, I knew, had been withdrawn to ride with their chief, but the number on guard mattered little; the silver key was an all-powerful talisman. I rode slowly, not wishing to tire the horses, to whose speed and strength we might later be indebted for our lives. I thought, too, it would serve my purpose better to reach the ravine in the dead of night, when the men would be sleepy and less likely to ask inconvenient questions.

I was stopped at the entrance to the pass, but not for long. The Indians who had seen me ride out with their chief had no suspicion of my object.

"Where is the chief?" asked the officer. "Have the Royalists got clear of the mountains?"

"No; they are still in the defiles. But I am in a hurry; I have come for the Spanish prisoner Montilla."

Fortunately this officer had not attended the trial of Don Felipe, and Sorillo was not the man to give reasons for his orders. My main difficulty would lie with the sentry at the door of the hut, but I did not think he would disobey the authority of the Silver Key.

In any case, boldness was my best policy; so I clattered up the ravine, stopping hardly a yard from the astonished sentry.

"Quick, man!" I cried, springing to the ground; "are you asleep? Open the door. I have come back for the prisoner. Is he still bound? Good. Can you tie him to this horse so that he cannot escape?"

"Yes, señor, if the chief wishes it. But, pardon me, señor, I have no orders."

"Orders!" cried I angrily; "what would you? I have but just left the chief; and is not this" (producing the silver key) "sufficient authority? Am I to tell the chief that he must come himself for the prisoner?"

"No, no, señor; but I am only a simple soldier. I must not open the door unless my officer bids me."

"He is below," I said; "we cannot pass without his permission. And I must hurry, or it will be too late. Quick, drag the fellow out and bind him firmly on the horse; then come with me."

The sentry had no inkling of the truth, and, never dreaming that his officer could be deceived, opened the door. Then the prisoner, whether from fear or from cunning I could not tell, acted in such a manner that no one would think I was helping him to escape.

He refused to stir an inch from his bench, and kicked vigorously when the sentry tried to seize him. Then he yelled so loudly that the officer came running up in alarm.

"The bird has no wish to leave his cosy nest," laughed he.--"Give me the rope, Pedro, and get a gag; the chief won't want to hear that music.--Now, señor, if you'll bear a hand we'll hoist him up.--Be still, you villain, or you'll get a knock on the head.--Had not one of my fellows better go with you to guard this wild beast, señor?"

Now, from the officer's point of view this was a very sensible proposal, and one which I dared not oppose for fear of exciting suspicion.

So I answered carelessly, "A good thought, and I am obliged to you; though," with a laugh, "the prisoner won't be able to do much mischief when you have finished with him."

"No, indeed; he'll be pretty clever if he can get these knots undone," replied the officer complacently.--"Now, the gag, Pedro. Quick, or he'll spoil his voice in the night air.--There, my pretty bird! you shall sing later on."

All this occupied time, and I was in dread lest dawn should break before we left the ravine. Then we had to wait till Pedro had saddled his horse; and I watched the sky anxiously. At last we were ready, and bidding Pedro ride in front, I took leave of the unsuspecting officer.

"A safe journey," he cried. "I should like to know what Sorillo means to do with the fellow."

"You'll hear all about it when the troops return," said I, laughing and hurrying after Pedro.

Thus far the venture, with one exception, had succeeded admirably. The prisoner was out of his cage, and would soon be clear of the pass. Then I should only have Pedro to deal with. His company was a nuisance, but it must be borne with for the present; later I should have to find means to get rid of him.

We rode slowly down the narrow path, Pedro in front, Don Felipe and I abreast. The poor fellow was in a hapless plight. The gag hurt his mouth, and the cords cut into his flesh. Had we been alone, I should, of course, have done something to ease his pain; but as long as Pedro was there, this was out of the question.

"Anyhow, it's better than being shot," I thought; "and really the wretch deserves it all."

We passed the sentries without trouble; but at the bottom of the pass my difficulties began again.

"I suppose the chief has gone to San Mateo, señor?" said Pedro questioningly. "That is the best place to watch from."

This was an awkward question, as I had intended making a straight dash for Lima; but it would not do to arouse the man's suspicions. We were too close to the mountains to run any unnecessary risks, and if Pedro showed fight there, our chance of escape was gone.

So I answered, "Yes," and rode along, wondering what would come of it. Every step led us into greater danger. We might run into the arms of the guerillas, in which event Don Felipe's fate was certain; or be stopped by the Royalists, when I should be made prisoner.

Day was now breaking, and with the strengthening light I began to see our position more clearly. It was not promising. We were farther from Lima than we had been when in the ravine, and were making straight for the mountains again. Another half-hour's riding would cut us off from escape completely. What could be done? There was no time to lose, and I must hit on a plan at once. The simplest and perhaps the only one likely to be successful I set aside without a moment's hesitation. Not for a dozen men's lives, my own included, would I harm the unsuspecting man whom chance had thrown into my power. I might, however, frighten him into obedience. As far as I could see, it was that or nothing, and the attempt must be made at once.

So, with beating heart and greatly doubting what would be the issue, I whipped out my pistol, and, levelling it at him, said quietly, "Move your hand to your musket, and you are a dead man! do as I bid you, and no harm will befall you. Leave your gun, get down from the saddle, and hold your hands above your head."

In the circumstances it was a risky experiment, because if the man should guess the truth I was entirely at his mercy. For him there was no more danger than if my pistol were a piece of wood.

"But, señor--" he began, staring at me in surprise.

"Get down!" I repeated sternly. "It is my order. Don't waste time, or I shall be obliged to fire."

Pedro was a brave man; indeed, all the Indians in Sorillo's band held their lives cheap. He did not exactly understand what was happening, yet he seemed to think that all was not right.

"The chief!" he exclaimed. "Does he--"

"Get down!" I cried once more, brandishing my weapon.

With a thundering shout of "The Silver Key! Help for the Silver Key!" he clubbed his musket and dashed straight at me, regardless of the levelled pistol.

One moment's pressure on the trigger and he would have dropped to the ground helpless, but I refrained; instead, I pulled the rein, and my horse swerved sharply, though not in time. The musket descended with a thud; the pistol slipped from my nerveless fingers; I seemed to be plunging down, down beneath a sea of angry waters.

How long I lay thus, or what happened during that time, I do not know; but I awoke to find myself beside a roaring fire, and to hear the hum of many voices. A soldier, hearing me move, came and looked into my face.

"Where am I?" I asked anxiously.

"Not far from Lima," said he. "A few hours since you weren't far from the next world. How did you get that broken head?"

I tried hard to remember, but could not; the past was a total blank.

"Well, well, never mind," exclaimed the man kindly. "Try to sleep; you will be better in the morning."

With the coming of dawn I saw that I was in the midst of a large camp. Thousands of soldiers wrapped in their ponchos lay motionless before smouldering fires. Presently there was a blowing of bugles, and the still figures stirred to life. Officers rode hither and thither issuing orders, the men ate their scanty rations, the cavalry groomed and fed their horses--there were all the sights and sounds connected with an army about to march.

Then the infantry formed in battalions, the horsemen mounted, bugles sounded in numerous places; there was a cracking of whips, the creaking of wheels, and all began to move slowly forward. Soon but a few men remained, and it seemed that I had been forgotten.

At length a man came to me. He was dressed in uniform, but his words and actions proved him to be a surgeon.

"Feel better?" he asked. "Can you eat something? I can only give you army food; but that will fill up the hollows. Now let me look at the damage. Faith, I compliment you on having a thick skull. A thinner one would have cracked like an egg-shell. Don't try to talk till you've had something to eat."

"Just one question," I said faintly. "Who are the soldiers just moved out?"

"Why, General Canterac's troops. I see you belong to the other side. But don't worry; we shan't hurt you."

"Then I am a prisoner?"

"That's always the way--one question leads to a dozen, Yes, I suppose you are a prisoner; but that's nothing very terrible," and he hurried off to procure food and drink for me.

Later in the day he came to have another talk, and I learned something of what had happened.

"We crossed the mountains almost without a check," he began. "The Indians did us some damage; but they were only a handful, and we saw none of your fellows."

"But how came I to be here?"

"Ah! that's a queer story. A party of scouts screening our left flank had just reached the base of the mountains, when they heard a fellow yelling at the top of his voice. By the time they got in sight, the man had evidently knocked you down, and was off at a mad gallop."

"Alone?" I asked.

"No; that's the strange part of it. He was leading a spare horse which carried something on its back. Our men could not get a good view, but it looked like a full sack, or a big bundle of some sort. They followed rapidly, and were wearing the runaway down when the Indians appeared in force on the hills. Of course that stopped the pursuit, and after picking you up, they came on with the army."

My memory returned now, and I understood what had happened. Pedro had escaped, and carried Don Felipe with him to the Indians of the Silver Key.

"Poor Rosa!" I sighed; "it is all over now. She will never see her father again. Sorillo will take care that he doesn't escape a second time."

My thoughts dwelt so much on this that I took little interest in the rest of the doctor's conversation. He was very jubilant, though, I remember, about his party's success, telling me that in a short time General Canterac would be master of Callao, and that the Patriots had nowhere the slightest chance of victory.

"What will be done with me?" I asked.

"I shall send you with our sick to the hospital at Jauja. The air there is bracing, and will help you to recover more quickly."

"Thank you," I said, though really caring very little at that time where I was sent.

Next day I was placed with several Spanish soldiers in an open wagon, one of a number of vehicles guarded by an escort of troopers. My friendly surgeon had gone to Lima; but I must say the Spaniards behaved very well, making no difference between me and their own people.

As to the journey across the mountains, I remember little of it. The worthy Pedro had made such good use of his musket that my head was racked with pain, and I could think of nothing. Most of the sick soldiers were also in grievous plight, and it was a relief to us all when, after several days' travelling, the procession finally halted in Jauja.

Here we were lifted from the carts and carried to a long whitewashed building filled with beds. They were made on the floor, and many of them were already occupied. Accommodation was found for most of us, but several had to wait until some of the beds became vacant.

Two or three doctors examined the fresh patients, and one forced me to swallow a dose of medicine. Why, I could not think, unless he wanted me to know what really vile stuff he was capable of concocting.

I shall pass quickly over this portion of my story. For weeks I lay in that wretched room, where dozens of men struggled night and day against death. Some snatched a victory in this terrible fight, but now and again I noticed a file of soldiers reverently carrying a silent figure from one of the low beds.

By the end of September I was strong enough to get up, and the doctors pronouncing me out of danger, I was taken to another building. This was used as a prison for captured officers of the Patriot forces, and the very first person to greet me as I stepped inside the room was the lively Alzura.

"Juan Crawford," cried he, "by all that's wonderful! From the ballroom to the prison-house! There's a splendid subject for the moralist. Where have you been, Juan? your people think you are dead. Miller is frantic; all your friends in Lima are in despair."

"Do you know anything of Don Felipe Montilla?" I asked.

"Montilla? No; there is a mystery about him too. It is given out that he was abducted by brigands, but some people whisper another story."

"What?"

"That he fled to the Royalists, my boy, as I prophesied he would."

"Then you were a false prophet."

"Then I ask the worthy Don's pardon for suspecting him without cause. But how did you get here?"

"I was brought in a wagon."

"Lucky dog! Always lucky, Juan. I had to walk," and he showed me his feet, naked, and scored with cuts.

After sympathizing with him, I asked him how events were shaping.

"Canterac did not capture Callao, as he hoped, and is now back in the highlands. Many things have happened, however; let me be your chronicle. Where shall I start?"

"From the day that Canterac swooped down on Lima."

"That was nothing. He sat down in the capital; we hugged the guns at Callao and looked at him. When he got tired he took himself off, and we returned to our quarters."

"Nothing very exciting in that."

"You are right, my boy. Your judgment is marvellous. But we had a day of excitement shortly before I came on this trip. You should have been there. Lima went stark mad! The guns at Callao thundered for hours; the capital was decked with flags; the people cheered till they were hoarse; there was a very delirium of joy. It was the greeting of Peru to her saviour--her second saviour, that is."

"Why can't you speak plainly? Do you mean Bolivar has come?"

"Your second question, Juan, shows there was little need for the first. Yes, Bolivar, the protector or emperor, or whatever name the new master of Peru cares to be known by. The hero of South America has arrived; let the Spaniards tremble!"

"For any sake give your tongue a rest. What has Santa Cruz done?"

"What has Santa Cruz done? A very great deal, my boy, I assure you. He has lost his whole army--men and horses, guns and ammunition, wagons and stores. What do you think of that, young man? You will be compelled to swallow Bolivar after all."

"Let us change the subject. Tell me about yourself."

"Ah," said he, "that is indeed a great subject! Your discernment is worthy of praise. I can talk on that topic for hours without tiring. Where shall I begin?"

"Where is the jailer?"

"Why?"

"That I may ask him to send me back to the hospital."

"Juan, you are a fraud! But hark! that is the bell calling us to dinner. Blessed sound! Come with me to the banquet."