"How many men has he?"

"Nine thousand, perhaps ten--horse, foot, and guns. The advance-guard is not far off."

"Thanks, Sanchez.--Let the men a.s.semble, Barros: a dozen to stay here, the rest to follow me. Has Cerdena sent word to Lima? Good. He knows his business.--Juan, you will just have time to ride clear, and not much to spare. No doubt Canterac has sent some of his troops by the near cut."

All was bustle and activity in the ravine. Officers issued commands, troopers saddled their horses, muskets were seen to, an extra supply of ammunition was served out, and in a very short time everybody save the few men left to guard the ravine was ready to march.

"What can your handful of men do against Canterac's army?" I asked Sorillo as we rode away.

"Not much beyond cutting off a few stragglers," he replied, smiling; "but we shall obtain information of which our leaders in Lima seem to stand badly in need."

CHAPTER XXII.

THE "SILVER KEY" AGAIN.

Since these events happened I have asked myself many times whether I did right or wrong, and even now I scarcely know how to decide. Those who blamed me said I was Sorillo's guest, and should not have abused his confidence. Others urged that I was bound, if possible, to prevent him putting a man to death unlawfully. All, however, agreed that none but a madman would have embarked on so preposterous an enterprise.

The idea occurred to me suddenly. The guerillas, split up into groups, had gone, some this way, some that, to watch the movements of the Royalist troops. Sorillo had kept me company till we cleared the pa.s.s, when he, too, with a word of farewell, rode away. It was now dusk, and, as the chief had truly said, there was no time to waste; yet I did not move. Right in my path, with outstretched arms and pitiful, beseeching face, stood Rosa Montilla. I knew it was but the outcome of a fevered brain; yet the vision seemed intensely real.

The girl's eyes looked at me reproachfully, her lips moved as if in speech. I fancied I could hear again her parting cry, "O Juan, save him!"

I asked myself impatiently what more could be done. I had tried my best and failed, and there was an end of it. Besides, the words of the chief rang in my ears in ominous warning: Don Felipe could not be trusted! To set him free was like giving liberty to a venomous snake; his hatred would now be all the more bitter in that he had struck and failed.

Why should I add to my father's danger? The fellow had tried to slay him once; the next time he would make no mistake. I would make no further effort to help such a traitor; I would ride on. But again the beseeching face of the girl stopped me, and again I was moved to think how I could aid the miserable prisoner. Like a flash of lightning I thought of the silver key. _That_ would unlock his prison door.

Although I fully believed in Don Felipe's guilt, I remembered he made no effort to defend himself. He would not admit Sorillo's right to try him. Before a lawful judge he might be able to vindicate his actions in some way; at least he should have the chance to do so. Thus thinking, I turned back in the direction of the ravine.

Half of the sentries, I knew, had been withdrawn to ride with their chief, but the number on guard mattered little; the silver key was an all-powerful talisman. I rode slowly, not wishing to tire the horses, to whose speed and strength we might later be indebted for our lives.

I thought, too, it would serve my purpose better to reach the ravine in the dead of night, when the men would be sleepy and less likely to ask inconvenient questions.

I was stopped at the entrance to the pa.s.s, but not for long. The Indians who had seen me ride out with their chief had no suspicion of my object.

"Where is the chief?" asked the officer. "Have the Royalists got clear of the mountains?"

"No; they are still in the defiles. But I am in a hurry; I have come for the Spanish prisoner Montilla."

Fortunately this officer had not attended the trial of Don Felipe, and Sorillo was not the man to give reasons for his orders. My main difficulty would lie with the sentry at the door of the hut, but I did not think he would disobey the authority of the Silver Key.

In any case, boldness was my best policy; so I clattered up the ravine, stopping hardly a yard from the astonished sentry.

"Quick, man!" I cried, springing to the ground; "are you asleep? Open the door. I have come back for the prisoner. Is he still bound?

Good. Can you tie him to this horse so that he cannot escape?"

"Yes, senor, if the chief wishes it. But, pardon me, senor, I have no orders."

"Orders!" cried I angrily; "what would you? I have but just left the chief; and is not this" (producing the silver key) "sufficient authority? Am I to tell the chief that he must come himself for the prisoner?"

"No, no, senor; but I am only a simple soldier. I must not open the door unless my officer bids me."

"He is below," I said; "we cannot pa.s.s without his permission. And I must hurry, or it will be too late. Quick, drag the fellow out and bind him firmly on the horse; then come with me."

The sentry had no inkling of the truth, and, never dreaming that his officer could be deceived, opened the door. Then the prisoner, whether from fear or from cunning I could not tell, acted in such a manner that no one would think I was helping him to escape.

He refused to stir an inch from his bench, and kicked vigorously when the sentry tried to seize him. Then he yelled so loudly that the officer came running up in alarm.

"The bird has no wish to leave his cosy nest," laughed he.--"Give me the rope, Pedro, and get a gag; the chief won't want to hear that music.--Now, senor, if you'll bear a hand we'll hoist him up.--Be still, you villain, or you'll get a knock on the head.--Had not one of my fellows better go with you to guard this wild beast, senor?"

Now, from the officer's point of view this was a very sensible proposal, and one which I dared not oppose for fear of exciting suspicion.

So I answered carelessly, "A good thought, and I am obliged to you; though," with a laugh, "the prisoner won't be able to do much mischief when you have finished with him."

"No, indeed; he'll be pretty clever if he can get these knots undone,"

replied the officer complacently.--"Now, the gag, Pedro. Quick, or he'll spoil his voice in the night air.--There, my pretty bird! you shall sing later on."

All this occupied time, and I was in dread lest dawn should break before we left the ravine. Then we had to wait till Pedro had saddled his horse; and I watched the sky anxiously. At last we were ready, and bidding Pedro ride in front, I took leave of the unsuspecting officer.

"A safe journey," he cried. "I should like to know what Sorillo means to do with the fellow."

"You'll hear all about it when the troops return," said I, laughing and hurrying after Pedro.

Thus far the venture, with one exception, had succeeded admirably. The prisoner was out of his cage, and would soon be clear of the pa.s.s.

Then I should only have Pedro to deal with. His company was a nuisance, but it must be borne with for the present; later I should have to find means to get rid of him.

We rode slowly down the narrow path, Pedro in front, Don Felipe and I abreast. The poor fellow was in a hapless plight. The gag hurt his mouth, and the cords cut into his flesh. Had we been alone, I should, of course, have done something to ease his pain; but as long as Pedro was there, this was out of the question.

"Anyhow, it's better than being shot," I thought; "and really the wretch deserves it all."

We pa.s.sed the sentries without trouble; but at the bottom of the pa.s.s my difficulties began again.

"I suppose the chief has gone to San Mateo, senor?" said Pedro questioningly. "That is the best place to watch from."

This was an awkward question, as I had intended making a straight dash for Lima; but it would not do to arouse the man's suspicions. We were too close to the mountains to run any unnecessary risks, and if Pedro showed fight there, our chance of escape was gone.

So I answered, "Yes," and rode along, wondering what would come of it.

Every step led us into greater danger. We might run into the arms of the guerillas, in which event Don Felipe's fate was certain; or be stopped by the Royalists, when I should be made prisoner.

Day was now breaking, and with the strengthening light I began to see our position more clearly. It was not promising. We were farther from Lima than we had been when in the ravine, and were making straight for the mountains again. Another half-hour's riding would cut us off from escape completely. What could be done? There was no time to lose, and I must hit on a plan at once. The simplest and perhaps the only one likely to be successful I set aside without a moment's hesitation. Not for a dozen men's lives, my own included, would I harm the unsuspecting man whom chance had thrown into my power. I might, however, frighten him into obedience. As far as I could see, it was that or nothing, and the attempt must be made at once.

So, with beating heart and greatly doubting what would be the issue, I whipped out my pistol, and, levelling it at him, said quietly, "Move your hand to your musket, and you are a dead man! do as I bid you, and no harm will befall you. Leave your gun, get down from the saddle, and hold your hands above your head."

In the circ.u.mstances it was a risky experiment, because if the man should guess the truth I was entirely at his mercy. For him there was no more danger than if my pistol were a piece of wood.

"But, senor--" he began, staring at me in surprise.

"Get down!" I repeated sternly. "It is my order. Don't waste time, or I shall be obliged to fire."