The Mark of Zorro (22 page)

The
despensero
had been listening in the other room and had heard what was said, and now he gave orders for Don Diego's horse to be made ready, and prepared a bottle of wine and water for the master to take with him.

Within a short time Don Diego set out, Bernardo riding a mule a small distance behind him. They hurried along the highroad, and presently caught up with a small
carreta,
beside which walked two robed Franciscans, and in which was Fray Felipe, trying to keep back moans of pain.

Don Diego dismounted beside the
carreta
as it stopped. He went over to it and clasped Fray Felipe's hands in his own.

“My poor friend!” he said.

“It is but another instance of injustice,” Fray Felipe said. “For twenty years, we of the missions have been subjected to it, and it grows. The sainted Junipero Serra invaded this land when other men feared, and at San Diego de Alcalá he built the first mission of what became a chain, thus giving an empire to the world. Our mistake was that we prospered. We did the work, and others reap the advantages.”

Don Diego nodded, and the other went on: “They began taking our mission-lands from us, lands we had cultivated, which had formed a wilderness and which my brothers had turned into gardens and orchards. They robbed us of worldly goods. And not content with that they now are persecuting us.

“The mission-empire is doomed,
caballero.
The time is not far distant when mission roofs will fall in and the walls crumble away. Someday people will look at the ruins and wonder how such a thing could come to pass.

“But we can do naught except submit. It is one of our principles. I did forget myself for a moment in the plaza at Reina de Los Angeles, when I took the whip and struck a man. It is our lot to submit.”

“Sometimes,” mused Don Diego, “I wish I were a man of action.”

“You give sympathy, my friend, which is worth its weight in precious stones. And action expressed in a wrong channel is worse than no action at all. Where do you ride?”

“To the
hacienda
of my father, good friend. I must crave his pardon and ask his indulgence. He has ordered that I get me a wife, and I find it a difficult task.”

“That should be an easy task for a Vega. Any maiden would be proud to take that name.”

“I had hoped to wed with the Señorita Lolita Pulido, she having taken my fancy.”

“A worthy maiden! Her father, too, has been subjected to unjust oppression. Did you join your family to his, none would dare raise hand against him.”

“All that is very well,
fray,
and the absolute truth, of course. But the
señorita
will have none of me,” Don Diego complained. “It appears that I have not dash and spirit enough.”

“She is hard to please, perhaps. Or possibly she is but playing at being a coquette with the hope of leading you on and increasing your ardor. A maid loves to tantalize a man,
caballero.
It is her privilege.”

“I showed her my house in the
pueblo,
and mentioned my great wealth, and agreed to purchase a new carriage for her,” Don Diego told him.

“Did you show her your heart, mention your love, and agree to be a perfect husband?”

Don Diego looked at him blankly, then batted his eyes rapidly, and scratched at his chin, as he did sometimes when he was puzzled over a matter.

“What a perfectly silly idea!” he exclaimed after a time.

“Try it,
caballero.
It may have an excellent effect.”

The
frailes
drove the cart onward, Fray Felipe raised his hand in blessing, and Don Diego Vega turned aside into the other trail, the deaf and dumb Bernardo following at his heels on the mule.

Back in the
pueblo,
the dealer in hides and tallow was the center of attraction at the tavern. The fat landlord was kept busy supplying his guests with wine, for the dealer in hides and tallow was spending a part of the money of which he had swindled Fray Felipe. The
magistrado
was spending the rest.

There was boisterous laughter as one recounted how Fray Felipe lay about him with the whip, and how the blood spurted from his old back when the lash was applied.

“Not a whimper from him!” cried the dealer in hides and tallow. “He is a courageous old coyote! Now, last month we whipped one at San Fernando, and he howled for mercy, but some men said he had been ill and was weak, and possibly that was so. A tough lot, these
frailes!
But it is great sport when we can make one howl! More wine, landlord! Fray Felipe is paying for it!”

There was a deal of raucous laughter at that, and the dealer's assistant, who had given perjured testimony, was tossed a coin and told to play a man and do his own buying. Whereupon the apprentice purchased wine for all in the inn, and howled merrily when the fat landlord gave him no change from his piece of money.

“Are you a
fray,
that you pinch coins?” the landlord asked.

Those in the tavern howled with merriment again, and the landlord, who had cheated the assistant to the limit, grinned as he went about his business. It was a great day for the fat landlord.

“Who was the
caballero
who showed some mercy toward the
fray?”
the dealer asked.

“That was Don Diego Vega,” the landlord replied.

“He will be getting himself into trouble—”

“Not Don Diego,” said the landlord. “You know the great Vega family, do you not,
señor?
His excellency himself curries their favor. Did the Vegas hold up as much as a little finger, there would be a political upheaval in these parts.”

“Then he is a dangerous man?” the dealer asked.

A torrent of laughter answered him.

“Dangerous? Don Diego Vega?” the landlord cried, while tears ran down his fat cheeks. “You will be the death of me! Don Diego does naught but sit in the sun and dream. He scarcely ever wears a blade, except as a matter of show. He groans if he has to ride a few miles on a horse. Don Diego is about as dangerous as a lizard basking in the sun.

“But he is an excellent gentleman, for all that!” the landlord added hastily, afraid that his words would reach Don Diego's ears, and Don Diego would take his custom elsewhere.

It was almost dusk when the dealer in hides and tallow left the tavern with his assistant, and both reeled as they walked, for they had partaken of too much wine.

They made their way to the
carreta
in which they traveled, waved their farewells to the group about the door of the tavern, and started slowly up the trail toward San Gabriel.

They made their journey in a leisurely manner, continuing to drink from a jug of wine they had purchased. They went over the crest of the first hill, and the
pueblo
of Reina de Los Angeles was lost to view, and all they could see was the highway twisting before them like a great dusty serpent, and the brown hills, and a few buildings in the distance, where some man had his
hacienda.

They made a turning, and found a horseman confronting them, sitting easily in the saddle, with his horse standing across the road in such manner that they could not pass.

“Turn your horse—turn your beast!” the dealer in hides and tallow cried. “Would you have me drive over you?”

The assistant gave an exclamation that was part of fear, and the dealer looked more closely at the horseman. His jaw dropped, his eyes bulged.

“‘Tis Señor Zorro!” he exclaimed. “By the saints! 'Tis the Curse of Capistrano, away down here near San Gabriel. You would not bother me, Señor Zorro? I am a poor man, and have no money. Only yesterday a fray swindled me, and I have been to Reina de Los Angeles seeking justice.”

“Did you get it?” Señor Zorro asked.

“The
magistrado
was kind,
señor.
He ordered the
fray
to repay me, but I do not know when I shall get the money.”

“Get out of the
carreta,
and your assistant also!” Señor Zorro commanded.

“But I have no money—” the dealer protested.

“Out of the
carreta
with you! Do I have to request it twice? Move, or lead finds a lodging place in your carcass!”

Now the dealer saw that the highwayman held a pistol in his hand, and he squealed with sudden fright and got out of the cart as speedily as possible, his assistant tumbling out at his heels. They stood in the dusty highway before Señor Zorro, trembling with fear, the dealer begging for mercy.

“I have no money with me, kind highwayman, but I shall get it for you!” the dealer cried. “I shall carry it to where you say, whenever you wish—”

“Silence, beast!” Señor Zorro cried. “I do not want your money, perjurer! I know all about the farce of a trial at Reina de Los Angeles; I have ways of finding out about such things speedily.

“So the aged
fray
swindled you, eh? Liar and thief! 'Tis you who are the swindler! And they gave that old and godly man fifteen lashes across his bare back, because of the lies you told! And you and the
magistrado
will divide the money of which you swindled him!”

“I swear by the saints—”

“Do not! You have done enough false swearing already. Step forward!”

The dealer complied, trembling as if with a disease; and Señor Zorro dismounted swiftly and walked around in front of his horse. The dealer's assistant was standing beside the
carreta,
and his face was white.

“Forward!” Señor Zorro commanded again.

Again the dealer complied; but suddenly he began to beg for mercy, for Señor Zorro had taken a mule whip from beneath his long cloak, and held it ready in his right hand, while he held the pistol in his left.

“Turn your back!” he commanded now.

“Mercy, good highwayman! Am I to be beaten as well as robbed? You would whip an honest merchant because of a thieving
fray?”

The first blow fell, and the dealer shrieked with pain. His last remark appeared to have given strength to the highwayman's arm. The second blow fell, and the dealer in hides and tallow went to his knees in the dusty highroad.

Then Señor Zorro returned his pistol to his belt, and stepped forward and grasped the dealer's mop of hair with his left hand, so as to hold him up, and with the right he rained heavy blows with the mule whip upon the man's back, until his tough coat and shirt were cut to ribbons, and the blood soaked through.

“That for a man who perjures himself and has an honest
fray
punished!” Señor Zorro cried.

And then he gave his attention to the assistant.

“No doubt, young man, you but carried out your master's orders when you lied before the
magistrado
,” he said, “but you must be taught to be honest and fair, no matter what the circumstances.”

“Mercy,
señor!”
the assistant howled.

“Did you not laugh when the
fray
was being whipped? Are you not filled with wine now because you have been celebrating the punishment that godly man received for something he did not do?”

Señor Zorro grasped the youth by the nape of his neck, whirled him around, and sent a stiff blow at his shoulders. The boy shrieked, and then began whimpering. Five lashes in all he received, for Señor Zorro apparently did not wish to render him unconscious. And finally he hurled the boy from him, and looped his whip.

“Let us hope both of you have learned your lesson,” he said. “Get into the
carreta,
and drive on. And when you speak of this occurrence, tell the truth, else I hear of it and punish you again! Let me not learn that you have said some fifteen or twenty men surrounded and held you while I worked with the whip!”

The apprentice sprang into the cart, and his master followed, and they whipped up and disappeared in a cloud of dust toward San Gabriel. Señor Zorro looked after them for a time, then lifted his mask and wiped the perspiration from his face, and then mounted his horse again, fastening the mule whip to the pommel of his saddle.

Señor Zorro rode quickly to the crest of the hill beneath which was the
pueblo,
and there he stopped his horse and looked down at the village.

It was almost dark, but he could see quite well enough for his purpose. Candles had been lighted in the tavern, and from the building came the sounds of raucous song and loud jest. Candles were burning at the
presidio
and from some of the houses came the odor of cooking food.

Señor Zorro rode on down the hill. When he reached the edge of the plaza he put spurs to his horse and dashed up to the tavern door, before which half a dozen men were congregated, the most of them under the influence of wine.

“Landlord!” he cried.

None of the men about the door gave him particular attention at first, thinking he was but some
caballero
on a journey wishing refreshment. The landlord hurried out, rubbing his fat hands together, and stepped close to the horse. And then he saw that the rider was masked, and that the muzzle of a pistol was threatening him.

“Is the
magistrado
within?” Señor Zorro asked.

“Si,
señor!”

“Stand where you are and pass the word for him. Say there is a
caballero
here who wishes speech with him regarding a certain matter.”

The terrified landlord shrieked for the
magistrado,
and the word was passed inside. Presently the judge came staggering out, crying in a loud voice to know who had summoned him from his pleasant entertainment.