Ahead of the Army Part 13

I don't exactly see how I'm to do it, though."

It was time to go down-stairs and report to his faithful friends, for he knew it would be very mean not to do so, and the first person he met was Senora Ta.s.sara herself.

"I have letters from home!" he exclaimed, bluntly--"newspapers, too!"

and she held up both hands in astonishment, as she responded:

"Letters from the United States? How on earth did they come through the blockade, and how did they know where you are?"

"I guess they didn't," said Ned. "The English captain that used to command the _Goshhawk_ brought them. I met him at the plaza, hunting for me. He was a friend of General Zuroaga, and besides, the British consul at Vera Cruz knew I was with Colonel Ta.s.sara's family. So, if I hadn't met him, he would have tried to find you. My father writes that I am to stay in Mexico, and learn all about it."

"I am glad of that," she said. "Why, you could not get out at all just now without danger to yourself and getting all of us into trouble."

"I wouldn't do that for anything!" exclaimed Ned, and then he went on with his tremendous budget of miscellaneous news.

It was an exceedingly interesting heap of information, for the captain had given him both English and American journals, which were a rare treat at that time in the interior of the beleaguered Mexican republic.

Senora Ta.s.sara was busy with these, when Ned and all the other news-bringers were pounced upon by a yet more eager inquirer.

"Senor Carfora!" exclaimed Felicia, her black eyes flas.h.i.+ng curiously at him. "Where did you get them? I never before saw such big newspapers.

They won't tell us about our army, though."

"Yes, they will," he said, and, while she was searching the broad-faced prints for army information, he repeated for her benefit all that he had previously told her mother. Poor Senorita Felicia! She did not obtain at all what she wanted, for there were no accounts of brilliant Mexican victories. All of these must have been meanly omitted by the editors, and at last she angrily threw down a newspaper to say to him:

"Senor Carfora, I am glad you are to stay here, but you will never be anything better than a gringo, no matter how much you learn. I was up in the library this morning, and I pulled out six more books for you. You may read them all, if they will do you any good. One of them is about Spain, too. What I want to do is to travel all over Spain. It must be the most beautiful country in the world."

Ned had noticed long ago that her eyes always grew dreamy whenever her thoughts were turned toward the peninsula which has had so wonderful a history, but he did not know that his own longings for foreign travel were very like her own in their origin when he replied:

"Well, I'd like to see Spain. I mean to some day, but I want to see England first, and Scotland and Ireland. One of my ancestors was an Irishman, and the Crawfords were from Scotland. It isn't as hot a country as Spain is. You are a Mexican, not a Spaniard."

"So I am," she said, "and most of the Mexicans are Indians. We ought to have more Spaniards, but we can't get them. Anyhow, we don't want too many gringos to come in. They are all heretics, too."

Ned knew what she meant, and he hastened to tell her that his country contained more church people of her religion than Mexico did, and he added, to her great disgust:

"And our priests are a hundred times better than yours are. General Zuroaga says so, and so does your father. I don't like your Mexican priests. The general says he wishes they were all dead, and their places filled by good, live men from Europe and the United States."

"Felicia," interrupted her mother, "you must not talk with Senor Carfora about such things. What I wish is that we had the American common schools all over our poor, ignorant country. Oh, dear! What if this horrible war should prove to be really a blessing to us? As things look now, we are to have another revolution within a year. More men will be shot, just as they have been before, and n.o.body can see what the end is to be."

It was now time for the noonday luncheon, and they went to the dining-room, where Senora Paez herself was glad to see the foreign journals and to know that Ned had letters from home.

Many things appeared to be settled, as far as he was concerned. At all events, his mind was no longer to busy itself with wild plans for squirming out from among the Aztecs and finding his way to the United States. After luncheon he went up to the library again. At first it was only to read his letters over and over, and then it was a kind of relief to go to his books and try to forget everything else in going on with his queer schooling. It was unlike any that his old schoolmates at the North were having, and he caught himself wondering what kind of man it might make of him. He could not tell, but he was to have yet another lesson that day, and with it came a promise of a strange kind of vacation.

It came to him in the evening, when he was so tired of books that he preferred the company of Senorita Felicia, no matter what saucy or overpatriotic things she might see fit to say to him. They were sitting near one of the drawing-room windows, when Senora Paez came quietly behind him and touched him on the shoulder.

"Come with me," she said. "There is a man up in Senora Ta.s.sara's room who wishes to see you."

"O Senor Carfora!" whispered Felicia. "Don't say a word! I know who it is. Go right along. He is an old friend of yours."

Up jumped Ned, and he and the senorita followed Senora Paez eagerly.

Half a minute later, he felt as if he had never been so astonished before in all his life, for his hand was heartily grasped, and the voice of General Zuroaga said to him:

"Here I am, Senor Carfora. How are you?"

"Oh, but I'm glad to see you!" exclaimed Ned. "I'm all right, but isn't it awfully dangerous for you to be here?"

"It would be, if some men knew it," replied Zuroaga, "or if I were unwise enough to remain too long. The fact is that I can give you only a few minutes, anyhow, this evening. I must be out of the city before daylight, if I can, but I will return at the end of a week or so. Then I shall take you with me to the valley of the Tehuantepec. You must see all that region. After that I shall have a tour to make on political affairs, through several States, and you will have a chance to see two thirds of the republic before winter."

"That is just what my father would wish me to do," said Ned, and he proceeded to tell the general the contents of his letters and all the news he had heard from Captain Kemp.

"Very good!" said Zuroaga, at last. "I would have been glad to have seen the captain. He is a rough sort of fellow, but he can be depended on. It is evident that your father's firm trusts him, but I believe they do not know exactly all that he has been doing. He is quite willing to make a few dollars for himself while he is working for others."

The general was in good spirits, but more than once he spoke of the necessity he was under of keeping out of the reach of his old enemies, and among these he appeared to consider the absent Santa Anna even more dangerous, in the long run, than President Paredes himself. Senora Ta.s.sara had now joined them, but she seemed disposed to be silent, and most of the conversation was in the hands of Senora Paez. It was noticeable that she appeared to have a remarkably good knowledge of the politics of her country. Perhaps, if Ned had been a few years older and the least bit of a politician, he might have suspected the truth, that she was one of the most subtle plotters in the whole country. If she was also a deadly enemy of President Paredes, it was because she was a sister of a revolutionary leader whom he had caused to be shot, years ago, without the formality of a court-martial. Ned saw her eyes flash and her bosom heave when she spoke of him, and after that he somehow felt safer than ever under her roof. He also saw that she and General Zuroaga were the best of friends, and that they had a long private conference of their own.

"I guess he feels at home here," thought Ned, as he went down-stairs with Felicia and Senora Ta.s.sara, and his confidence in that state of affairs grew stronger as he walked along the central hall of the house.

"Pablo!" he exclaimed, to a man who lay sprawled out upon the floor, but the general's Oaxaca follower made him no reply. He and three more like him, who lay near him, were sound asleep, and there was no good cause for stirring them up just then.

"They are all well armed," said Ned to himself. "The general will be protected when he rides away in the morning. But this is the biggest kind of thing to come to me. The best _I_ can do will be to take to my books till he gets back. Oh, but won't it be grand fun to make a complete tour of the mountains and of all the Pacific coast of Mexico?

He says I shall see the tallest peaks of the Cordilleras and that I may visit some of the great silver mines."

With all that exciting expectation running through his head, it was not easy for him to get to sleep that night. When he arose in the morning, his friend, the mysterious general, had already departed.

CHAPTER XII.

A STORM COMING

"A monarchy! a monarchy! nothing but the one-man power will ever do anything for this miserable mult.i.tude of Indians, negroes, and rebellion-making Spanish aristocrats. Royalty is our only resource, and I am nearly ready to strike the required blow. I think that Don Maria Paredes would make as good an emperor as Augustin de Yturbide, and he will wear the crown of Mexico somewhat longer. But I must look out for Santa Anna. If he were to return from Cuba too soon, there would be nothing left for me but to have him shot as soon as he came ash.o.r.e. Or else he might have me shot not many days afterward. His emissaries and spies are all the while working against me, but I shall catch some of them. Oh, how I would like to get hold of that venomous conspirator, Zuroaga!"

The President and practically the dictator of the nominal republic of Mexico was standing in his own luxurious chamber of the government palace in the city of Mexico. He was in the full uniform of a general officer, for he was preparing to ride out and attend a review of a division of the really large army which he had gathered to move against the American invaders at the north. He deemed himself favored by fortune, for all things had thus far appeared to operate in the direction of his high ambition. He was in possession of undisputed power, and his time for making his supremacy permanent had arrived. It was the morning of the 4th of August, 1846, and it promised to be a splendid day for a parade. He had eloquently appealed to all the patriotism in the land, and he had used his last dollar in raising the troops who were to win his victories and place him firmly upon the throne of Anahuac, the lost throne of the Montezumas. A large part of his forces had already marched, and he was now to follow with the remainder. It was high time that he should do so, for General Taylor's army was daily drawing nearer the Mexican lines at the city of Monterey.

Not many minutes later, he rode away from the palace, attended by a brilliant staff, through crowded streets, where every hat went off and all the voices shouted "Viva Paredes" with every appearance of enthusiasm.

That morning Ned Crawford had not felt like going out of the city to see any review. Days had pa.s.sed since the departure of General Zuroaga, but Ned's head was full of what his friend had said to him, and he did not care much in what direction his feet might take him. So, having all that responsibility to themselves, they carried him on across the city until, when he looked around him, he saw that he had almost reached the front gate of the out-of-date fort, which was known as "the citadel." It always contained a large garrison, not by any means for the defence of the capital from external foes, but for the protection of whatever might be the "government" for the time being from any sudden tumult or attempted revolution. There were officers and a squad of soldiers standing a few paces out in front of the wide-open military portal, and they all were gazing intently in the same direction. Ned also turned to look, but all that he could see was a solitary rider, upon what seemed to be an all but exhausted horse, urging the panting animal toward the citadel.

"Colonel Guerra!" exclaimed Ned. "What has brought him all the way from Vera Cruz? Has our army come? Is the city taken?"

Nothing of that kind had yet occurred, but there was a reason for the arrival of the trusted commander of the important fortress on the sea.

Ned was very near him when the horse fell, and his rider sprang to the earth, covered with dust and evidently in great excitement. The officers at the gate rushed forward toward him, and one of them loudly demanded:

"Colonel Guerra! What is it? Has he come? All is ready here!"

Guerra himself had not fallen with his horse. Off came his hat and his sword flashed from the sheath, while his voice rang out clearly, fiercely:

"Viva Santa Anna! The entire force at Vera Cruz and the garrison of San Juan de Ulua have p.r.o.nounced for him. He is now on his way home from Havana. We shall soon have with us the one hero who can save us from the American invaders and from the tyranny of King Paredes!"

Possibly, this had been the day calculated upon for the arrival of precisely such tidings. It might even have been that all these officers and soldiers were gathered there, prepared both to hear and to act, while President Paredes should be temporarily absent from the city. At all events, they were swinging their hats, drawing their swords, and their enthusiastic acclamations for the returning general were at once followed by a rush back into the citadel and a hasty closing of its gates. When that was done, and when the rest of the garrison had joined in "p.r.o.nouncing" for Santa Anna, the military control of the Mexican capital had pa.s.sed out of the hands of President Paredes.

It was startling news, therefore, which was brought out to him by a friendly messenger, as he rode so proudly on in front of his shouting soldiery, believing that they were all his own and ready to do his bidding. The grand review ended instantaneously, and he came galloping back in all haste to look out for his tumbling crown. He came with his brilliant staff and a mixed crowd of friends and unfriends, only to discover that crown and throne and scepter had disappeared like the changing figures in a kaleidoscope. He could not even order anybody to be arrested and shot, for the Vice-President, General Bravo, and all the members of the national Congress, then in session, were thoughtfully saying to themselves, if not to each other: