The Missourian Part 25

Maximilian's white brow clouded. The French occupation was ever a thorn in his side. He could never quite be Emperor in fact. He could not even promote a likely young man. He had to "recommend" to one Bazaine, who had carried a knapsack.

"Quite so," he answered coldly. "I shall inform Our dear Marshal how well you deserve."

"The fact is, Your Majesty," said Ney in some confusion, "I did not--exactly--capture him. It was, uh, sort of mutual."

Everybody stared curiously. There was the rope, the unloaded pistols. It was a queer puzzle. How did it happen? Ney began with an apology. Would Mademoiselle d'Aumerle forgive him? But he had worried though! He should not have left her, day before yesterday!

"Because of a greater attraction?" the young woman suggested.

Ney demurred so earnestly that Jacqueline laughed outright. "Don't make it worse, Michel," said she. "I know how you regretted the death of the terrible Rodrigo. Then you learned that he was alive. Oh no, I couldn't have held you.--But go on. Did he prove interesting?"

The Frenchman told his story. It appeared that, on deserting mademoiselle two days before, he went at the best speed of his horse up the ravine she had so graciously indicated. He hoped to overtake the fugitive bandit, and after an hour, at a turn in the arroyo, did meet him, face to face. Both were equally astounded. Rodrigo was retracing his steps, having been blocked by a dried waterfall. Either man drew and covered the other. The Mexican did not fire. Seeing Ney, he supposed the Contras at no great distance, and a shot would bring them on his heels.

But after a time the thing commenced to grow ridiculous, and Ney laughed.

"Monsieur Rodrigue," he said, "I hope you will come along quietly."

Fra Diavolo mistook the Gallic humor for an a.s.surance of armed backing near at hand. "Where to?" he asked.

"The devil take me if _I_ know! Where would you suggest?"

It dawned then on the puzzled brigand that the other knew nothing of the country, and accordingly they struck up an armistice; which, for the rest, the alert revolver of each made imperative. Their protocol's chief clause required the prisoner to conduct his captor to some neutral point. Rodrigo suggested Anastasio Murguia's ranch, and Ney agreed. But as to what might happen on arriving, they left in blank. Michel had a duel in mind, if honest seconds were to be had. The craftier Rodrigo hoped to find some of his own men lurking about the hacienda.

A cessation of hostile moves was further stipulated, though treachery of course warranted the instant drawing of weapons. Should the prisoner try to betray the captor to guerrillas, this was to const.i.tute treachery.

Ney for his part insisted on his rights as captor. That is, he could call for help if he got the chance. Rodrigo a.s.sented willingly. He knew the neighborhood. He would avoid the Cossacks, and the Frenchman might shout to his heart's ease. To do him justice, the outlaw had no desire to kill Ney, even if Ney gave him leave. A duke and prince in one was too valuable. A pretty ransom loomed brightly. Ney suspected as much, but not being ingenuous enough to obviate the risks, took a huge delight in them.

Conforming to the terms of the truce, each man, simultaneously, put his gun in his holster. Then, good company enough one for the other, though with eyes ever on the watch, they proceeded along tortuous bridle paths until twilight, meeting no one. They camped in the same forest which that same moment held Murguia, Driscoll, and the two girls. They tethered their horses together and made a bed of leaves for themselves.

Each laid his pistol a comfortable distance away, so that if either tried to arm himself while the other slept, there would be much snapping of twigs under his feet. Again simultaneously, they sat down and talked, and smoked cigarettes in lieu of supper. Ney progressed in his Spanish that evening. Fra Diavolo wished to impress on the companionable Frenchman that he, Rodrigo Galan, was a more terrible person than Colonel Dupin. He seemed envious, even of the compliment implied in the Tiger's nickname.

During a pause the brigand said, "Now don't jump, caballero, because I'm only getting out my flask."

"The beautiful idea!" returned Ney. "I'll do the same."

But each stopped with the liquor at his mouth. It was consolation for lack of food, but if one refrained and the other partook--well, there would be a light sleeper and a heavy sleeper. With the tempting fumes in their nostrils, they waited, each for the other, to quaff first. And neither did. Finally Rodrigo proposed that they equalize the perils of indulgence. Accordingly each lowered the contents of his flask by three swallows, after which they compared the extent of the ebb tide in either bottle.

"But, voyons," Ney objected, "you haven't taken as much as I have!"

Rodrigo admitted the impeachment, and amiably took another draught. But the swallow proved too large, and Ney in his turn tried to balance that one, only to fail likewise. This entailed another effort from Rodrigo, which resulted in still another exaggeration.

"Now you've had _more_ than I have," Michel complained, growing vague on the real point at issue.

"Bien, senor, suppose you try a little of this. It's catalan, genuine, too, smuggled at Tampico."

"Mine's cognac," said Ney. "Have some?"

They exchanged flasks, and that night in the forest their snores were discordant and loud. Ney half awoke once, and remembered that he seemed to have heard the tramp of many horses. Toward morning, when it was not yet light, he was aroused for good by a savage tightening around his waist and a tremendous pull. He sat up, and heard his prisoner scuffling and swearing near him.

"You've tied me, you sneaking animal without shame!"

"It's you that's tied me, tete de voleur!"

But as Rodrigo wrested in the dark, Ney found that the brigand's stumblings corresponded with the tightening about himself. He clutched at his waist, and discovered a rope.

Both men groped vengefully forward with the line, and lurched into one another's arms. Each had thought to come on a tree, only to discover himself tied to the other. In the first start of suspicion, and in no good humor from splitting headaches, one reached for his knife, the other for his sabre. But the knife was gone, the sabre was gone.

Forthwith they grappled and strained and breathed by jerks and tumbled and rolled and wound themselves in the lariat, until at last they lay exhausted on their backs and blinked up at the beautiful innocent morn peeping through the trees.

"Now don't you untie yourself till I get untied," ordered Ney.

"Or you yourself," retorted the other.

"Let us both untie at the same time."

"But one might finish first," objected Rodrigo. The brigand had grown amiable again. He saw advantages in the rope. It was well to have his prospective ransom never more than a few feet away.

They discussed the problem at length, but were not equal to it. So the modus vivendi was stretched a rope's length, and the treachery clause expanded to include any untying or attempted untying before their arrival at Murguia's. Scrupulously simultaneous, they arose, found their pistols, and mounted their horses. To guard against any sudden varying in rapidity of travel and its consequences, each wrapped the lariat once about his saddle-horn. Where necessary, the brigand rode in front, since Ney insisted that the other way would reverse their roles of prisoner and captor. Rodrigo got some tortillas from a charcoal burner, and they lunched and rested within the forest's edge till dark. But they traveled all that night in the open country, and approached Murguia's before noon of the next day. Hoping to find friends about the hacienda's stables, Rodrigo suggested that they race up the highway into the pasture. He was thinking that then the Frenchmen might be overpowered the more easily.

Ney fell into the trap. He accepted the challenge and was keen for the sport. Thus it happened that they all but ran down the Emperor of Mexico himself, and instead of guerrillas, Rodrigo saw Cossacks and Dragoons.

But the mystery of the rope, added to that of the unloaded pistols, rested unexplained.

Jacqueline was delighted. "If it were just conventional heroism," she exclaimed, "one might talk of lieutenancies. But sire, this----"

"Never fear," replied Maximilian. "I cannot make him captain, but he shall have his reward.--Monsieur le Prince, I will leave you a half company of my Austrians, if, though a Cha.s.seur, you will deign to command them. In a word, I desire you to have the honor of escorting mademoiselle to the City."

"And I thank you, sire. Parbleu, the sergeant is happier with such an order than--than the captain without it."

"Michel," cried Jacqueline, "and where in the world now did you get that?"

"Why--out of my own head. Really, mademoiselle."

CHAPTER XX

IN THE WAKE OF PRINCELY CAVALCADES

"... Now swell out, and with stiff necks Pa.s.s on, ye sons of Eve! vale not your looks, Lest they descry the evil of your path."

--_Dante_.

The Grand Equerry was again the Dignitary of the hour. He held the Emperor's stirrup, while the Emperor, fittingly attired, swung gracefully astride a curvetting charger. Behind was his coach, ready for him when he should tire of the saddle. It was already late in the afternoon, and he meant to travel all night. Flatterers begged him to consider the importance of his health, which but made him unyielding.

Some slight martyrdom for his country appealed to Maximilian. No, he said, grave affairs might be afoot since the Confederacy's surrender.

The capital needed his presence, and he reminded them that the State came first, as always.

The retinue climbed into carriages. The escort, Dragoons, Austrians and Contra Guerrillas, formed in hollow square about their prince. Colonel Dupin scowled because he was going. Colonel Lopez, when un.o.bserved, scowled because he was left behind. And Monsieur eloin, at the Emperor's side, thought well of himself in subst.i.tuting for a rival favorite one so distant from favoritism as the Tiger. The Dragoons and Austrians who were to remain presented arms on the hacienda porch, and Lopez gave them the cue for a parting viva. The emanc.i.p.ated peons, still wet from spiritual grace, swelled the din gratefully and stridently, lured to it by their thoughtful pastor, the hacienda curate.

But Maximilian still lingered. He looked from window to window under the colonnade, and seemed expectant. But Lopez signaled to the buglers, and the trumpet call and the redoubled huzzas of a people thrilled him out of his melancholy. With a sigh he gave over his private loves and poesy.

He breathed deep and his eyes flashed. And as the grand monarch and good, he departed with the acclaim of posterity in his ears, conscious that the superb figure he made was for History's contemplation.