The Free Lances. Майн Рид
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Название: The Free Lances
Автор: Майн Рид
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4064066223731
isbn:
Santander was taken aback by this unlooked-for rebuff. He had come to the Acordada to indulge in the luxury of a little vapouring over his fallen foes, whom he knew to be there, having been informed of all that had befallen them from Mier up to Mexico. He expected to find them cowed, and eager to crave life from him; which he would no more have granted than to a brace of dogs that had bitten him. But so far from showing any fear, both prisoners looked a little defiant; the Texan with the air of a caged wolf seeming ready to tear him if he showed but a step over the threshold of the cell.
“Oh! very well,” he returned, making light of what Rock had said. “If you won’t accept favours from an old, and, as you know, tried friend, I must leave you so without them. But,” he added, addressing himself more directly to Kearney:
“You, Señor Irlandes—surely you won’t be so unreasonable?”
“Carlos Santander,” said the young Irishman, looking his ci-devant adversary full in the face, “as I proved you not worth thrusting with my sword, I now pronounce you not worth words—even to call you coward—though that you are from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet. Not even brave when your body is encased in armour. Dastard! I defy you.”
Though manifestly stung by the reminder, Santander preserved his coolness. He had this, if not courage—at least a knack of feigning it. But again foiled in the attempt to humble the enemy, and, moreover, dreading exposure in the eyes of the gaol-governor—an old militario—should the story of the steel shirt come out in the conversation, he desisted questioning the Tejanos. Luckily for him none of the others there understood English—the language he and the Texans had used in their brief, but sharp exchange of words. Now addressing himself to the governor, he said—
“As you perceive, Señor Don Pedro, these two gentlemen are old acquaintances of mine, whose present unfortunate position I regret, and would gladly relieve. Alas! I fear the law will take its course.”
At which commiserating remark Don Pedro smiled grimly; well aware of the sort of interest Colonel Santander took in the pair of prisoners committed to his care. For the order so to dispose of them he knew to have come from Santander himself! It was not his place, nor was he the kind of man to inquire into motives; especially when these concerned his superiors. Santander was an officer on the staff of the Dictator, besides being a favourite at Court. The gaol-governor knew it, and was subservient. Had he been commanded to secretly strangle the two men thus specially placed in his charge, or administer poison to them, he would have done it without pity or protest. The cruel tyrant who had made him governor of the Acordada knew his man, and had already, as rumour said, with history to confirm it, more than once availed himself of this means to get rid of enemies, personal or political.
During all this interlude the robber had maintained his position and silence, his face turned to the blank wall of the cloister, his back upon all the others. What his motive for this was neither of the Texans could tell; and in all likelihood Santander knew not himself any more who the man was. But his behaviour, from its very strangeness, courted inquiry; and seemingly struck with it, the staff-colonel, addressing himself to the gaol-governor, said—
“By the way, Don Pedro, who is your prisoner, who makes the fourth in this curious quartette? He seems shy about showing his face, which would argue it an ugly one like my own.”
A bit of badinage in which Carlos Santander oft indulged. He knew that he was anything but ill-favoured as far as face went.
“Only a gentleman of the road—un salteador” responded the governor.
“An interesting sort of individual then,” said Santander. “Let me scan his countenance, and see whether it be of the true brigand type—a Mazaroni or Diavolo.”
So saying, he stepped inside the cell, and passed on till he could see over the robber’s shoulder, who now slightly turning his head, faced towards him. Not a word was exchanged between the two, but from the looks it was clear they were old acquaintances, Santander starting as he recognised the other; while his glance betrayed a hostility strong and fierce as that felt for either Florence Kearney or the Texan. A slight exclamation, involuntary, but telling of anger, was all that passed his lips as his eyes met a pair of other eyes which seemed to pierce his very heart.
He stayed not for more; but turning upon his heel, made direct for the door. Not to reach it, however, without interruption. In his hurry to be gone, he stumbled over the legs of the Texan, that stretched across the cell, nearly from side to side. Angered by the obstruction, he gave them a spiteful kick, then passed on outward. By good fortune fast and far out of reach, otherwise Cris Rock, who sprang to his feet, and on for the entrance, jerking the dwarf after, would in all probability there and then have taken his life.
As it was, the gaol-governor, seeing the danger, suddenly shut the cloister door, so saving it.
“Jest as I’ve been tellin’ ye all along, Cap,” coolly remarked Rock, as the slammed door ceased to make resonance; “we shed ha’ hanged the skunk, or shot him thar an’ then on the Shell Road. ’Twar a foolish thing lettin’ him out o’ that ditch when I had him in it. Darn the luck o’ my not drownin’ him outright! We’re like to sup sorrow for it now.”
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