Why, then, this antipathy against the respited prisoner, for the second time surging up?

There is a strangeness about the thing that perplexes a good many people.

There are a few that understand, or suspect, the cause. A very few: perhaps only three individuals.

Two of them are Zeb Stump and Louise Poindexter; the third Captain Ca.s.sius Calhoun.

The old hunter, with instinct keenly on the alert, has discovered some underhanded action--the actors being Miguel Diaz and his men, a.s.sociated with a half-score of like characters of a different race--the "rowdies"

of the settlement. Zeb has traced the action to its instigator--the ex-captain of volunteer cavalry.

He has communicated his discovery to the young Creole, who is equal to the understanding of it. It is the too clear comprehension of its truth that now inspires her with a keen solicitude.

Anxiously she awaits every word of news--watches the road leading from the Fort to Casa del Corvo, as if the sentence of her own death, or the security of her life, hung upon the lips of some courier to come that way!

She dares not show herself at the prison. There are soldiers on guard, and spectators around it--a crowd of the idle curious, who, in all countries, seem to feel some sort of sombre enjoyment in the proximity of those who have committed great crimes.

There is an additional piquancy in the circ.u.mstances of this one. The criminal is insane; or, at all events, for the time out of his senses.

The guard-house doors are at all hours besieged--to the great discomfort of the sentries--by people eager to listen to the mutterings of the delirious man. A lady could not pa.s.s in without having scores of eyes turned inquiringly upon her. Louise Poindexter cannot run the gauntlet of those looks without risk to her reputation.

Left to herself, perhaps she would have attempted it. Watched by a father whose suspicions are already awakened; by a near relation, equally interested in preserving her spotless, before the eyes of the world--she has no opportunity for the act of imprudence.

She can only stay at home; now shut up in her solitary chamber, solaced by the remembrance of those ravings to which she had listened upon the Alamo; now upon the azotea, cheered by the recollection of that sweet time spent among the _mezquite_ trees, the spot itself almost discernible, where she had surrendered the proudest pa.s.sion of her heart; but saddened by the thought that he to whom she surrendered it is now humiliated--disgraced--shut up within the walls of a gaol--perchance to be delivered from it only unto death!

To her it was happy tidings, when, upon the morning of the fourth day, Zeb Stump made his appearance at Casa del Corro, bringing the intelligence; that the "hoss-sogers hed k.u.m back to the Fort."

There was significance in the news thus ungrammatically imparted. There was no longer a danger of the perpetration of that foul act hitherto apprehended: a prisoner taken from his guards, not for rescue, but ruin!

"Ee needn't be uneezy 'beout thet ere ewent," said Zeb, speaking with a confidence he had not shown for some time. "Thur's no longer a danger o' it comin' to pa.s.s, Miss Lewaze. I've tuk preecaushins agin it."

"Precautions! How, Zeb?"

"Wal; fust place, I've seed the major clost arter his comin' back, an gied him a bit o' my mind. I tolt him the hul story, as fur's I know it myself. By good luck he ain't agin the young fellur, but the tother way I reck'n. Wal, I tolt him o' the goin's on o' the hul crew--Amerikins, Mexikins, an all o' them--not forgettin' thet ugly Spanyard o' the name o' Dee-ez, thet's been one o' the sarciest o' the lot. The ree-sult's been thet the major hez doubled the sentries roun' the prison, an's goin' to keep 'em doubled."

"I am so glad! You think there is no longer any fear from that quarter?"

"If you mean the quarter o' Mister Migooel Dee-ez, I kin swar to it.

Afore he thinks o' gittin' any b'dy else out o' a prison, he's got to git hisself out."

"What; Diaz in prison! How? When? Where?"

"You've asked three seprit questyuns, Miss Lewaze, all o' a heep. Wal; I reck'n the conveenientest way to answer 'em 'll be to take 'em backurds. An' fust as to the _whar_. As to thet, thur's but one prison in these parts, as 'ud be likely to hold him. Thet is the guard-house at the Fort. He's thur."

"Along with--"

"I know who ye're goin' to name--the young fellur. Jest so. They're in the same buildin', tho' not 'zackly in the same room. Thur's a purt.i.tion atween 'em; tho' for thet matter they kin conva.r.s.e, ef they're so inclined. Thur's three others shet up along wi' the Mexikin--his own cussed c.u.mmarades. The three 'll have somethin' to talk 'beout 'mong themselves, I reck'n."

"This is good news, Zeb. You told me yesterday that Diaz was active in--"

"Gittin' hisself into a sc.r.a.pe, which he hev been successful in effectuatin'. He's got hisself into the jug, or someb'y else hev did thet bizness for him."

"But how--when--you've not told me?"

"Geehosophat! Miss Lewaze. Gi' me a leetle time. I hain't drew breath yit, since I kim in. Yur second questyun war _when_. It air eezy answered. 'Beout a hour agone thet ere varmint wur trapped an locked up. I war at the shettin' o' the door ahint him, an k.u.m straight custrut hyur arter it war done."

"But you have not yet said why he is arrested."

"I hain't hed a chance. It air a longish story, an 'll take a leetle time in the tellin'. Will ye listen to it now, or arter--?"

"After what, Mr Stump?"

"Wal, Miss Lewaze, I only meened arter--arter--I git the ole mare put up. She air stannin' thur, as if she'd like to chaw a yeer o' corn, an somethin' to wet it down. Both she 'nd me's been on a longish tramp afore we got back to the Fort; which we did scace a hour ago."

"Pardon me, dear Mr Stump, for not thinking of it. Pluto; take Mr Stump's horse to the stable, and see that it is fed. Florinde!

Florinde! What will you eat, Mr Stump?"

"Wal, as for thet, Miss Lewaze, thank ye all the same, but I ain't so partikler sharp set. I war only thinkin' o' the maar. For myself, I ked go a kupple o' hours longer 'ithout eetin', but ef thur's sech a thing as a smell o' Monongaheely 'beout the place, it 'ud do this ole karkidge o' mine a power o' good."

"Monongahela? plenty of it. Surely you will allow me to give you something better?"

"Better 'n Monongaheely!"

"Yes. Some sherry--champagne--brandy if you prefer it."

"Let them drink brandy as like it, and kin' git it drinkable. Thur may be some o' it good enuf; an ef thur air, I'm shor it'll be foun' in the house o' a Peintdexter. I only knows o' the sort the sutler keeps up at the Fort. Ef thur ever wur a medicine, thet's one. It 'ud rot the guts out o' a alleygatur. No; darn thur French lickers; an specially thur brandy. Gi' me the pure corn juice; an the best o' all, thet as comes from Pittsburgh on the Monongaheely."

"Florinde! Florinde!"

It was not necessary to tell the waiting-maid for what she was wanted.

The presence of Zeb Stump indicated the service for which she had been summoned. Without waiting to receive the order she went off, and the moment after returned, carrying a decanter half-filled with what Zeb called the "pure corn juice," but which was in reality the essence of rye--for from this grain is distilled the celebrated "Monongahela."

Zeb was not slow to refresh himself. A full third of the contents of the decanter were soon put out of sight--the other two-thirds remaining for future potations that might be required in the course of the narration upon which he was about to enter.

CHAPTER SEVENTY.

GO, ZEB, AND G.o.d SPEED YOU!

The old hunter never did things in a hurry. Even his style of drinking was not an exception; and although there was no time wasted, he quaffed the Monongahela in a formal leisurely manner.

The Creole, impatient to hear what he had to relate, did not wait for him to resume speech.

"Tell me, dear Zeb," said she, after directing her maid to withdraw, "why have they arrested this Mexican--Miguel Diaz I mean? I think I know something of the man. I have reasons."

"An' you ain't the only purson may hev reezuns for knowin' him, Miss Lewaze. Yur brother--but never mind 'beout that--leastwise not now.

What Zeb Stump _do_ know, or strongly surspect, air, thet this same-mentioned Migooel Dee-ez hev had somethin' to do wi'--You know what I'm refarrin' to?"

"Go on, Mr Stump!"