Thursday's Serial: "The Curse of Capistrano" by Johnston McCulley (in English) - II

Chapter 5 - A Ride in the Morning

                The following morning found the storm at an end, and there was not a single cloud to mar the perfect blue of the sky, and the sun was bright, and palm fronds glistened in it, and the air was bracing as it blew down the valleys from the sea.

                At midmorning, Don Diego Vega came from his house in the pueblo, drawing on his sheepskin riding-mittens, and stood for a moment before it, glancing across the plaza at the little tavern. From the rear of the house an Indian servant led a horse.

                Though Don Diego did not go galloping across the hills and up and down El Camino Real like an idiot, yet he owned a fairish bit of horseflesh. The animal had spirit and speed and endurance, and many a young blood would have purchased him, except that Don Diego had no use for more money and wanted to retain the beast.

                The saddle was heavy and showed more silver than leather on its surface. The bridle was heavily chased with silver, too, and from its sides dangled leather globes studded with semiprecious stones that now glittered in the bright sunshine as if to advertise Don Diego's wealth and prestige to all the world.

                Don Diego mounted, while half a score of men loitering around the plaza watched and made efforts to hide their grins. It was quite the thing in those days for a youngster to spring from the ground into his saddle, gather up the reins, rake the beast's flanks with his great spurs, and disappear in a cloud of dust all in one motion.

                But Don Diego mounted a horse as he did everything else—without haste or spirit. The native held a stirrup, and Don Diego inserted the toe of his boot. Then he gathered the reins in one hand, and pulled himself into the saddle as if it had been quite a task.

                Having done that much, the native held the other stirrup and guided Don Diego's other boot into it, and then he backed away, and Don Diego clucked to the magnificent beast and started it, at a walk, along the edge of the plaza toward the trail that ran to the north.

                Having reached the trail, Don Diego allowed the animal to trot, and after having covered a mile in this fashion, he urged the beast into a slow gallop, and so rode along the highway.

                Men were busy in the fields and orchards, and natives were tending the herds. Now and then Don Diego passed a lumbering carreta, and saluted whoever happened to be in it. Once a young man he knew passed him at a gallop, going toward the pueblo, and Don Diego stopped his own horse to brush the dust from his garments after the man had gone his way.

                Those same garments were more gorgeous than usual this bright morning. A glance at them was enough to establish the wealth and position of the wearer. Don Diego had dressed with much care, admonishing his servants because his newest serape was not pressed properly, and spending a great deal of time over the polishing of his boots.

                He traveled for a distance of four miles and then turned from the highroad and started up a narrow, dusty trail that led to a group of buildings against the side of a hill in the distance. Don Diego Vega was about to pay a visit to the hacienda of Don Carlos Pulido.

                This same Don Carlos had experienced numerous vicissitudes during the last few years. Once he had been second to none except Don Diego's father in position, wealth, and breeding. But he had made the mistake of getting on the wrong side of the fence politically, and he found himself stripped of a part of his broad acres, and tax-gatherers bothering him in the name of the governor, until there remained but a remnant of his former fortune, but all his inherited dignity of birth.

                On this morning Don Carlos was sitting on the veranda of the hacienda meditating on the times, which were not at all to his liking. His wife, Dona Catalina, the sweetheart of his youth and age, was inside directing her servants. His only child, the señorita Lolita, likewise was inside, plucking at the strings of a guitar and dreaming as a girl of eighteen dreams. Don Carlos raised his silvered head and peered down the long, twisting trail, and saw in the distance a small cloud of dust. The dust cloud told him that a single horseman was approaching, and Don Carlos feared another gatherer of taxes. He shaded his eyes with a hand and watched the approaching horseman carefully. He noted the leisurely manner in which he rode his mount, and suddenly hope sang in his breast, for he saw the sun flashing from the silver on saddle and bridle, and he knew that men of the army did not have such rich harness to use while on duty.

                The rider had made the last turning now and was in plain sight from the veranda of the house, and Don Carlos rubbed his eyes and looked again to verify the suspicion he had. Even at that distance the aged don could establish the identity of the horseman.

                "'Tis Don Diego Vega," he breathed. "May the saints grant that here is a turn in my fortunes for the better at last."

                Don Diego, he knew, might only be stopping to pay a friendly visit, and yet that would be something, for when it was known abroad that the Vega family was on excellent terms with the Pulido establishment, even the politicians would stop to think twice before harassing Don Carlos further, for the Vegas were a power in the land.

                So Don Carlos slapped his hands together, and a native hurried out from the house, and Don Carlos bade him draw die shades so that the sun would be kept from a corner of the veranda, and place a table and some chairs, and hurry with small cakes and wine.

                He sent word into the house to the women, too, that Don Diego Vega was approaching. Doña Catalina felt her heart beginning to sing, and she herself began to hum a little song, and Señorita Lolita ran to a window to look out at the trail. When Don Diego stopped before the steps that led to the veranda, there was a native waiting to care for his horse, and Don Carlos himself walked halfway down the steps and stood waiting, his hand held out in welcome.

                "I am glad to see you a visitor at my poor hacienda, Don Diego," he said, as the young man approached, drawing off his mittens.

                "It is a long and dusty road," Don Diego said. "It wearies me, too, to ride a horse the distance."

                Don Carlos almost forgot himself and smiled at that, for surely riding a horse a distance of four miles was not enough to tire a young man of blood. But he remembered Don Diego's lifelessness and did not smile, lest the smile cause anger.

                He led the way to the shady nook on the veranda, and offered Don Diego wine and cakes, and waited for his guest to speak. As became the times, the women remained inside the house, not ready to show themselves unless the visitor asked for them, or their lord and master called.

                "How are things in the pueblo of Reina de Los Angeles?" Don Carlos asked. "It has been a space of several score days since I visited there."

                "Everything is the same," said Don Diego, "except that this Señor Zorro invaded the tavern last evening and had a duel with the big Sergeant Gonzales."

                "Ha! Señor Zorro, eh? And what was the outcome of the fighting?"

                "Though the sergeant has a crooked tongue while speaking of it," said Don Diego, "it has come to me through a corporal who was present that this Señor Zorro played with the sergeant and finally disarmed him and sprang through a window to make his escape in the rain. They could not find his tracks."

                "A clever rogue," Don Carlos said. "At least, I have nothing to fear from him. It is generally known up and down El Camino Real, I suppose, that I have been stripped of almost everything the governor's men could carry away. I look for them to take the hacienda next."

                "Um. Such a thing should be stopped!" Don Diego said, with more than his usual amount of spirit.

                The eyes of Don Carlos brightened. If Don Diego Vega could be made to feel some sympathy, if one of the illustrious Vega family would but whisper a word in the governor's ear, the persecution would cease instantly, for the commands of a Vega were made to be obeyed by all men of whatever rank.

               

Chapter 6 - Diego Seeks a Bride

                Don Diego sipped his wine slowly and looked out across the mesa, and Don Carlos looked at him in puzzled fashion, realizing that something was coming, and scarcely knowing what to expect.

                "I did not ride through the damnable sun and dust to talk with you concerning this Señor Zorro, or any other bandit," Don Diego explained after a time.

                "Whatever your errand, I am glad to welcome one of your family, caballero," Don Carlos said.

                "I had a long talk with my father yesterday morning," Don Diego went on. "He informed me that I am approaching the age of twenty-five, and he is of a mind that I am not accepting my duties and responsibilities in the proper fashion."

                "But surely—"

                "Oh, doubtless he knows. My father is a wise man."

                "And no man can dispute that, Don Diego."

                "He urged upon me that I awaken and do as I should. I have been dreaming, it appears. A man of my wealth and station—you will pardon me if I speak of it—must do certain things."

                "It is the purse of position, señor."

                "When my father dies I come into his fortune, naturally, being the only child. That part of it is all right. But what will happen when I die? That is what my father asks."

                "I understand."

                "A young man of my age, he told me, should have a wife, a mistress of his household, and should—er—have offspring to inherit and preserve an illustrious name."

                "Nothing could be truer than that," said Don Carlos.

                "So I have decided to get me a wife."

                "Ha! It is something every man should do, Don Diego. Well do I remember when I courted Doña Catalina. We were mad to get into each other's arms, but her father kept her from me for a time. I was only seventeen, though, so perhaps he did right. But you are nearly twenty-five. Get you a bride, by all means."

                "And so I have come to see you about it," Don Diego said.

                "To see me about it?" gasped Don Carlos, with something of fear and a great deal of hope in his breast.

                "It will be rather a bore, I expect. Love and marriage, and all that sort of thing, is rather a necessary nuisance in its way. The idea of a man of sense running about a woman, playing a guitar for her, making up to her like a loon when everyone knows his intention! And then the ceremony! Being a man of wealth and station, I suppose the wedding must be an elaborate one, and the natives will have to be feasted, and all that, simply because a man is taking a bride to be mistress of his household."

                "Most young men," Don Carlos observed, "delight to win a woman and are proud if they have a great and fashionable wedding."

                "No doubt. But it is an awful nuisance. However, I will go through with it, señor. It is my father's wish, you see. You—if you will pardon me again—have fallen upon evil days. That is the result of politics,-of course. But you are of excellent blood, señor, of the best blood in the land."

                "I thank you for remembering that truth," said Don Carlos, rising long enough to put one hand over his heart and bow.

                "Everybody knows it, señor. And a Vega, naturally, when he takes a mate, must seek out a woman of excellent blood."

                "To be sure!" Don Carlos exclaimed.

                "You have an only daughter, the Señorita Lolita."

                "Ah! Yes, indeed, señor. Lolita is eighteen now, and a beautiful and accomplished girl, if her father is the man to say it."

                "I have observed her at the mission and at the pueblo," Don Diego said. "She is, indeed, beautiful, and I have heard that she is accomplished. Of her birth and breeding there can be no doubt. I think she would be a fit woman to preside over my household."

                "Señor?"

                "That is the object of my visit today, señor."

                "You—you are asking my permission to pay addresses to my fair daughter?"

                "I am, señor."

                Don Carlos's face beamed, and again he sprang from his chair, this time to bend forward and grasp Don Diego by the, hand.

                "She is a fair flower," the father said. "I would see her wed, and I have been to some anxiety about it, for I did not wish her to marry into a family that did not rank with mine. But there can be no question where a Vega is concerned. You have my permission, señor."

                Don Carlos was delighted. An alliance between his daughter and Don Diego Vega! His fortunes were retrieved the moment that was consummated. He would be important and powerful again!

                He called a native and sent for his wife, and within a few minutes the Doña Catalina appeared on the veranda to greet the visitor, her face beaming, for she had been listening.

                "Don Diego has done us the honor to request permission to pay his respects to our daughter," Don Carlos explained.

                "You have given consent?" Dona Catalina asked; for it would not do, of course, to jump for the man.

                "I have given my consent," Don Carlos replied.

                Doña Catalina held out her hand, and Don Diego gave it a languid grasp and then released it.

                "Such an alliance would be a proud one," Dona Catalina said. "I hope that you may win her heart, señor."

                "As to that," said Don Diego, "I trust there will be no undue nonsense. Either the lady wants me and will have me, or she will not. Will I change her mind if I play a guitar beneath her window, or hold her hand when I may, or put my hand over, my heart and sigh? I want her for wife, else I would not have ridden here to ask her father for her."

                "I—I—of course," said Don Carlos.

                "Ah, señor, but a maid delights to be won," said the Dona Catalina. "It is her privilege, señor. The hours of courtship are held in memory during her lifetime. She remembers the pretty things her lover said, and the first kiss, when they stood beside the stream and looked into each other's eyes, and when he showed sudden fear for her while they were riding and her horse bolted—those things, señor.

                "It is like a little game, and it has been played since the beginning of time. Foolish, señor? Perhaps when a person looks at it with cold reason. But delightful, nevertheless."

                "I don't know anything about it," Don Diego protested. "I never ran around making love to women."

                "The woman you marry will not be sorry because of that, señor."

                "You think it is necessary for me to do these things?"

                "Oh," said Don Carlos, afraid of losing an influential son-in-law, "a little bit would not hurt. A maid likes to be wooed, of course, even though she has made up her mind."

                "I have a servant who is a wonder at the guitar," Don Diego said. "Tonight I shall order him to come out and play beneath the señorita's window."

                "And not come yourself?" Dona Catalina gasped.

                "Ride out here again tonight, when the chill wind blows in from the sea?" gasped Don Diego. "It would kill me. And the native plays the guitar better than I."

                "I never heard of such a thing!" Doña Catalina gasped, her sense of the fitness of things outraged.

                "Let Don Diego do as he wills," Don Carlos urged.

                "I had thought," said Don Diego, "that you would arrange everything and then let me know. I would have my house put in order, of course, and get me more servants. Perhaps I should purchase a coach and drive with my bride as far as Santa Barbara and visit a friend there. Is it not possible for you to attend to everything else? Just merely send me word when the wedding is to be."

                Don Carlos Pulido was nettled a little himself now.

                "Caballero," he said, "when I courted Dona Catalina she kept me on needles and pins. One day she would frown, and the next day smile. It added a spice to the affair. I would not have had it different. You will regret it, señor, if you do not do your own courting. Would you like to see the señorita now?"

                "I suppose I must," Don Diego said.

                Dona Catalina threw up her head and went into the house to fetch the girl; and soon she came, a dainty little thing with black eyes that snapped, and black hair that was wound around her head in a great coil, and dainty little feet that peeped from beneath skirts of bright hue.

                "I am happy to see you again, Don Diego," she said. He bowed over her hand and assisted her to one of the chairs.

                "You are as beautiful as you were when I saw you last," he said.

                "Always tell a señorita that she is more beautiful than when you saw her last," groaned Don Carlos. "Ah, that I were young again and could make love anew!"

                He excused himself and entered the house, and Doña Catalina moved to the other end of the veranda, so that the pair could talk without letting her hear the words, but from where she could watch, as a good duenna always must.

                "Señorita," Don Diego said, "I have asked your father this morning for permission to seek you in marriage."

                "Oh, señor!" the girl gasped.

                "Do you think I would make a proper husband?"

                "Why, I—that is—"

                "Just say the word, señorita, and I shall tell my father, and your family will make arrangements for the ceremony. They can send word in to me by some native. It fatigues me to ride abroad when it is not at all necessary."

                Now the pretty eyes of the Señorita Lolita began flashing warning signals, but Don Diego, it was evident, did not see them, and so he rushed forward to his destruction.

                "Shall you agree to becoming my wife, señorita?" he asked, bending slightly toward her.

                Señorita Lolita's face burned red, and she sprang from her chair, her tiny fists clenched at her side.

                "Don Diego Vega," she replied, "you are of a noble family and have much wealth and will inherit more. But you are lifeless, señor! Is this your idea of courtship and romance? Can you not take the trouble to ride four miles on a smooth road to see the maid you would wed? What sort of blood is in your veins, señor?"

                Doña Catalina heard that, and now she rushed across the veranda toward them, making signals to her daughter, which Señorita Lolita refused to see.

                "The man who weds me must woo me and win my love," the girl went on. "He must touch my heart. Think you that I am some bronze native wench to give myself to the first man who asks? The man who becomes my husband must be a man with life enough in him to want me. Send your servant to play a guitar beneath my window? Oh, I heard, señor! Send him, señor, and I'll throw boiling water upon him and bleach his red skin! Buenos dias, señor!"

                She threw up her head proudly, lifted her silken skirts aside, and so passed him to enter the house, disregarding her mother also. Doña Catalina moaned once for her lost hopes. Don Diego Vega looked after the disappearing señorita and scratched at his head thoughtfully and glanced toward his horse.

                "I—I believe she is displeased with me," he said in his timid voice.

Chapter 7 - A Different Sort of Man

                Don Carlos lost no time in hurrying out to the veranda again—since he had been listening and so knew what had happened—and endeavoring to placate the embarrassed Don Diego Vega. Though there was consternation in his heart, he contrived to chuckle and make light of the occurrence.

                "Women are fitful and filled with fancies, señor," he said. "At times they will rail at those whom they in reality adore. There is no telling the workings of a woman's mind—she cannot explain it with satisfaction herself."

                "But I—I scarcely understand," Don Diego gasped. "I used my words with care. Surely I said nothing to insult or anger the señorita."

                "She would be wooed, I take it, in the regular fashion. Do not despair, señor. Both her mother and myself have agreed that you are a proper man for her husband. It is customary that a maid fight off a man to a certain extent, and then surrender. It appears to make surrender the sweeter. Perhaps the next time you visit us she will be more agreeable. I feel quite sure of it."

                So Don Diego shook hands with Don Carlos Pulido and mounted his horse and rode slowly down the trail; and Don Carlos turned about and entered his house again and faced his wife and daughter, standing before the latter with his hands on his hips and regarding her with something akin to sorrow.

                "He is the greatest catch in all the country!" Doña Catalina was wailing; and she dabbed at her eyes with a delicate square of filmy lace.

                "He has wealth and position and could mend my broken fortunes if he were but my son-in-law," Don Carlos declared, not taking his eyes from his daughter's face.

                "He has a magnificent house and a hacienda besides, and the best horses near Reina de Los Angeles, and he is sole heir to his wealthy father," Dona Catalina said.

                "One whisper from his lips into the ear of his excellency, the governor, and a man is made—or unmade," added Don Carlos.

                "He is handsome—"

                "I grant you that!" exclaimed the Señorita Lolita, lifting her pretty head and glaring at them bravely. "That is what angers me! What a lover the man could be, if he would! Is it anything to make a girl proud to have it said that the man she married never looked at another woman, and so did not select her after dancing and talking and playing at love with others?"

                "He preferred you to all others, else he would not have ridden out today," Don Carlos said..

                "Certainly it must have fatigued him!" the girl said. "Why does he let himself be made the laughingstock of the country? He is handsome and rich and talented. He has health, and could lead all the other young men. Yet he has scarcely enough energy to dress himself, I doubt not."

                "This is all beyond me," the Dona Catalina wailed. "When I was a girl, there was nothing like this. An honorable man comes seeking you as wife—"

                "Were he less honorable and more of a man, I might look at him a second time," said the señorita.

                "You must look at him more than a second time," put in Don Carlos, with some authority in his manner. "You cannot throw away such a fine chance. Think on it, my daughter. Be in a more amiable mood when Don Diego calls again."

                Then he hurried to the patio on pretense that he wished to speak to a servant, but in reality to get away from the scene. Don Carlos had proved himself to be a courageous man in his youth, and now he was a wise man, also, and hence he knew better than to participate in an argument between women.

                Soon the siesta hour was at hand, and the Señorita Lolita went into the patio and settled herself on a little bench near the fountain. Her father was dozing on the veranda, and her mother in her room, and the servants were scattered over the place, sleeping also. But Señorita Lolita could not sleep, for her mind was busy.

                She knew her father's circumstances, of course, for it had been some time since he could hide them, and she wanted, naturally, to see him in excellent fortune again. She knew, too, that did she wed with Don Diego Vega, her father was made whole. For a Vega would not let the relatives of his wife be in any but the best of circumstances.

                She called up before her a vision of Don Diego's handsome face, and wondered what it would be like if lighted with love and passion. 'Twere a pity the man was so lifeless, she told herself. But to wed a man who suggested sending a native servant to serenade her in his own place!

                The splashing of the water in the fountain lulled her to sleep, and she curled up in one end of the bench, her cheek pillowed on one tiny hand, her black hair cascading to the ground.

                And suddenly she was awakened by a touch on her arm, and sat up quickly, and then would have screamed except that a hand was crushed against her lips to prevent her.

                Before her stood a man whose body was enveloped in a long cloak, and whose face was covered with a black mask so that she could see nothing of his features except his glittering eyes. She had heard Señor Zorro, the highwayman, described, and she guessed that this was he, and her heart almost ceased to beat, she was so afraid.

                "Silence, and no harm comes to you, señorita," the man whispered hoarsely.

                "You—you are—" she questioned on her breath.

                He stepped back, removed his sombrero, and bowed low before her.

                "You have guessed it, my charming señorita," he said. "I am known as Señor Zorro, the Curse of Capistrano."

                "And—you are here—"

                "I mean you no harm, no harm to any of this hacienda, señorita. I punish those who are unjust, and your father is not that. I admire him greatly. Rather would I punish those who do him evil than to touch him."

                "I—I thank you, señor."

                "I am weary, and the hacienda is an excellent place to rest," he said. "I knew it to be the siesta hour, also, and thought everyone would be asleep. It were a shame to awaken you, señorita, but I felt that I must speak. Your beauty would hinge a man's tongue in its middle so that both ends might be free to sing your praises."

                Señorita Lolita had the grace to blush.

                "I would that my beauty affected other men so," she said.

                "And does it not? Is it that the Señorita Lolita lacks suitors? But that cannot be possible!"

                "It is, nevertheless, señor. There are few bold enough to seek to ally themselves with the family of Pulido, since it is out of favor with the powers. There is one—suitor," she went on. "But he does not seem to put much life into his wooing."

                "Ha! A laggard at love—-and in your presence? What ails the man? Is he ill?"

                "He is so wealthy that I suppose he thinks he has but to request it and a maiden will agree to wed him."

                "What an imbecile! 'Tis the wooing gives the spice to romance."

                "But you, señor! Somebody may come and see you here! You may be captured!"

                "And do you not wish to see a highwayman captured? Perhaps it would mend your father's fortune were he to capture me. The governor is much vexed, I understand, concerning my operations."

                "You—you had best go," she said.

                "There speaks mercy in your heart. You know that capture would mean my death. Yet must I risk it, and tarry a while."

                He seated himself upon the bench, and Señorita Lolita moved away as far as she could, and then started to rise.

                But Señor Zorro had been anticipating that. He grasped one of her hands and, before she guessed his intention, had bent forward, raised the bottom of his mask, and pressed his lips to its pink, moist palm.

                "Señor!" she cried, and jerked her hand away.

                "It were bold, yet a man must express his feelings," he said. "I have not offended beyond forgiveness, I hope."

                "Go, señor, else I make an outcry!"

                "And get me executed?"

                "You are but a thief of the highroad!"

                "Yet I love life as any other man."

                "I shall call out, señor! There is a reward offered for your capture."

                "Such pretty hands would not handle blood money."

                "Go!"

                "Ah, señorita, you are cruel. A sight of you sends the blood pounding through a man's veins. A man would fight a horde at the bidding of your sweet lips."

                "Señor!"

                "A man would die in your defense, señorita. Such grace, such fresh beauty."

                "For the last time, señor! I shall make an outcry—and your fate be on your own head!"

                "Your hand again—and I go."

                "It may not be!"

                "Then here I sit until they come and take me. No doubt I shall not have to wait long. That big Sergeant Gonzales is on the trail, I understand, and may have discovered track of me. He will have soldiers with him—"

                "Señor, for the love of the saints—"

                "Your hand."

                She turned her back and gave it, and once more he pressed his lips to the palm. And then she felt herself being turned slowly, and her eyes looked deep into his. A thrill seemed to run through her. She realized that he retained her hand, and she pulled it away. And then she turned and ran quickly across the patio and into the house.

                With her heart pounding at her ribs, she stood behind the curtains at a window and watched. Señor Zorro walked slowly to the fountain and stooped to drink. Then he put his sombrero on, looked once at the house, and stalked away. She heard the galloping hoofs of a horse die in the distance.

                "A thief—yet a man!" she breathed. "If Don Diego had only half as much dash and courage!"

               

Chapter 8 - Don Carlos Plays a Game

                She turned away from the window, thankful that none of the household had seen Señor Zorro or knew of his visit. The remainder of the day she spent on the veranda, half the time working on some lace she was making, and the other half gazing down the dusty trail that ran toward the highway.

                And then came evening, and down by the natives' adobe huts big fires were lighted, and the natives gathered around them to cook and eat and speak of the events of the day. Inside the house the evening meal had been prepared, and the family was about to sit at table when someone knocked upon the door.

                An Indian ran to open it, and Señor Zorro strode into the room. His sombrero came off, he bowed, and then he raised his head and looked at the speechless Doña Catalina and the half-terrified Don Carlos.

                "I trust you will pardon this intrusion," he said. "I am the man known as Señor Zorro. But do not be frightened, for I have not come to rob."

                Don Carlos got slowly upon his feet, while Señorita Lolita gasped at this display of the man's courage, and feared he would mention the visit of the afternoon, of which she had refrained from telling her mother.

                "Scoundrel!" Don Carlos roared. "You dare to enter an honest house?"

                "I am no enemy of yours, Don Carlos," Señor Zorro replied. "In fact, I have done some things that should appeal to a man who has been persecuted."

                That was true, Don Carlos knew, but he was too wise to admit it and so speak treason. Heaven knew he was enough in the bad graces of the governor now without offending him more by treating with courtesy this man for whose carcass the governor had offered a reward.

                "What do you wish here?" he asked.

                "I crave your hospitality, señor. In other words, I would eat and drink. I am a caballero, hence make my claim in justice."

                "Whatever good blood once flowed in your veins has been fouled by your actions," Don Carlos said. "A thief and highwayman has no claim upon the hospitality of this hacienda."

                "I take it that you fear to feed me, since the governor may hear of it," Señor Zorro answered. "You may say that you were forced to do it. And that will be the truth."

                Now one hand came from beneath the cloak, and it held a pistol. Doña Catalina shrieked and fainted, and Señorita Lolita cowered in her chair.

                "Doubly a scoundrel, since you frighten women!" Don Carlos exclaimed angrily. "Since it is death to refuse, you may have meat and drink. But I ask you to be caballero enough to allow me to remove my wife to another room and call a native woman to care for her."

                "By all means," señor Zorro said. "But the señorita remains here as hostage for your good conduct and return."'

                Don Carlos glanced at the man, and then at the girl, and saw that the latter was not afraid. He. picked his wife up in his arms and bore her through the doorway, roaring for servants to come.

                Señor Zorro walked around the end of the table, bowed to Lolita again, and sat down in a chair beside her.

                "This is foolhardiness, no doubt, but I had to see your beaming face again," he said.

                "Señor!"

                "The sight of you this afternoon started a conflagration in my heart, señorita. The touch of your hand was new life to me."

                Lolita turned away, her face flaming, and Señor Zorro moved his chair nearer and reached for her hand, but she eluded him.

                "The longing to hear the music of your voice, señorita, may lure me here often," he said.

                "Señor! You must never come again! I was lenient with you this afternoon, but I can not be again. The next time I shall shriek, and you will be taken."

                "You could not be so cruel," he said.

                "Your fate would be upon your own head, señor."

                Then Don Carlos came back into the room, and Señor Zorro arose and bowed once more.

                "I trust your wife has recovered from her swoon," he said. "I regret that the sight of my poor pistol frightened her."

                "She has recovered," Don Carlos said. "I believe you said that you wished meat and drink. Now that I come to think of it, señor, you have indeed done some things that I have admired, and I am happy to grant you hospitality for a time. A servant shall furnish you food immediately."

                Don Carlos walked to the door, called a native, and gave his orders. Don Carlos was well pleased with himself. Carrying his wife into the next room had given him his chance. Four servants had answered his call, and among them had been one he trusted. And he had ordered the man to take the swiftest horse and ride like the wind the four miles to the pueblo, and there to spread the alarm that Señor Zorro was at the Pulido hacienda.

                His object now was to delay this Señor Zorro as much as possible. For he knew the soldiers would come and the highwayman be killed or captured, and surely the governor would admit that Don Carlos was entitled to some consideration for what he had done.

                "You must have had some stirring adventures, señor," Don Carlos said as he returned to the table.

                "A few," the highwayman admitted.

                "There was that affair at Santa Barbara, for instance. I never did hear the straight of that."

                "I dislike to speak of my own work, señor."

                "Please," the Señorita Lolita begged; and so Señor Zorro overcame his scruples for the time being.

                "It really was nothing," he said. "I arrived in the vicinity of Santa Barbara at sunset. There is a fellow there who runs a store, and he had been beating natives and stealing from the frailes. He would demand that the frailes sell him goods from the mission, and then complain that the weight was short, and the governor's men would make the frailes deliver more. So I resolved to punish the man."

                "Pray continue, señor," said Don Carlos, bending forward as if deeply interested.

                "I dismounted at the door of his building and walked inside. He had candles burning, and there were half a dozen fellows trading with him. I covered them with my pistol and drove them into a corner and ordered this storekeeper before me. I frightened him thoroughly, and forced him to disgorge the money he had in a secret hiding-place. And then I lashed him with a whip taken from his own wall, and told him why I had done it."

                "Excellent!" Don Carlos cried.

                "Then I sprang on my horse and dashed away. At a native's hut I made a placard, saying that I was a friend of the oppressed. Feeling particularly bold that evening, I galloped up to the door of the presidio, brushed aside the sentry—who took me for a courier—and pinned the placard to the door of the presidio with my knife. Just then the soldiers came rushing out. I fired over their heads, and while they were bewildered I rode away toward the hills."

                "And escaped!" Don Carlos exclaimed.

                "I am here!—that is your answer."

                "And why is the governor so particularly bitter against you, señor?" Don Carlos asked. "There are other highwaymen to whom he gives not a thought."

                "Ha! I had a personal clash with his excellency. He was driving from San Francisco de Asis to Santa Barbara on official business, with an escort of soldiers about him. They stopped at a brook to refresh themselves, and the soldiers scattered while the governor spoke with his friends. I was hiding in the forest and suddenly dashed out and at them.

                "Instantly I was at the open door of the coach. I presented my pistol at his head and ordered him to hand over his fat purse—which he did. Then I spurred through his soldiers, upsetting several as I did so—"

                "And escaped!" Don Carlos cried.

                "I am here," assented Señor Zorro.

                The servant brought a tray of food and placed it before the highwayman, retreating as soon as possible, his eyes big with fear and his hands trembling, for many weird tales had been told of this same señor Zorro and his brutality, none of which was true.

"I am sure that you will pardon me," Señor Zorro said, "when I ask you to sit at the far end of the room. As I take each bite, I must raise the bottom of my mask, for I have no wish to become known. I put the pistol before me on the table, so, to discourage treachery. And now, Don Carlos Pulido, I shall do justice to the meal you have so kindly furnished."

                Don Carlos and his daughter sat where they had been directed, and the bandit ate with evident relish. Now and then he stopped to talk to them, and once he had Don Carlos send out for more wine, declaring it to be the best he had tasted for a year.

                Don Carlos was only too glad to oblige him. He was playing to gain time. He knew the horse the native rode, and judged that he had reached the presidio at Reina de Los Angeles before this, and that the soldiers were on their way. If he could hold this Señor Zorro until they arrived!

                "I am having some food prepared for you to carry with you, señor," he said. "You will pardon me while I get it? My daughter will entertain you."

                Señor Zorro bowed, and Don Carlos hurried from the room. But Don Carlos had made a mistake in his eagerness. It was an unusual thing for a girl to be left alone in the company of a man in such fashion, especially with a man known to be an outlaw. Señor Zorro guessed at once that he was being delayed purposely. For, again, it was an unusual thing for a man like Don Carlos to go for the package of food himself when there were servants that could be called by a mere clapping of the hands. Don Carlos, in fact, had gone into the other room to listen at a window for sounds of galloping horses.

                "Señor!" Lolita whispered across the room.

                "What is it, señorita?"

                "You must go—at once. I am afraid that my father has sent for the soldiers."

                "And you are kind enough to warn me?"

                "Do I wish to see you taken here? Do I wish to see fighting and bloodshed?" she asked.

                "That is the only reason, señorita?"

                "Will you not go, señor?"

                "I am loath to rush away from such a charming presence, señorita. May I come again at the next siesta hour?"

                "By the saints—no! This must end, Señor Zorro. Go your way—and take care. You have done some things that I admire, hence I would not see you captured. Go north as far as San Francisco de Asis and turn honest, señor. It is the better way."

                "Little priest," he said.

                "Shall you go, señor?'

                "But your father has gone to fetch food for me. And could I depart without thanking him for this meal?"

                Don Carlos came back into the room then, and Señor Zorro knew by the expression on his face that the soldiers were coming up the trail. The don put a package on the table.

                "Some food to carry with you, señor," he said. "And we would relish more of your reminiscences before you start on your perilous journey."

                "I have spoken too much of myself already, señor, and it ill becomes a caballero to do that. It were better that I thank you and leave you now."

                "At least, señor, drink another mug of wine."

                "I fear," said Señor Zorro, "that the soldiers are much too close, Don Carlos."

                The face of the don went white at that, for the highwayman was picking up his pistol, and Don Carlos feared he was about to pay the price for his treacherous hospitality. But Señor Zorro made no move to fire.

                "I forgive you this breach of hospitality, Don Carlos, because I am an outlaw and there has been a price put upon my head," he said. "And, also, I hold you no ill will because of it. Buenos noches, señorita! Señor, adios!"

                Then a terrified servant who knew little concerning the events of the evening rushed in at the door.

                "Master! The soldiers are here!" he cried. "They are surrounding the house!"