A few treasured books enable Maxime to amuse himself. As yet he
dares not venture out of the garden.
The sound of clattering hoofs causes the prisoner to drop his
volume. He sits enjoying a flask of ripe claret, for he is broken
down and needs recruiting.
A courier spurs his foam-covered horse up to the Commandante's
porch. Panting and staggering, the poor beast shows the abuse of a
merciless rider. The messenger's heels are adorned with two inch
spiked wheels, bloody with spurring the jaded beast.
Peace or war? Maxime's heart beats violently. He prudently withdraws.
The wild soldiery gather on the plaza. His guards are there with
his own weapons, proudly displayed.
The Southerner chafes in helplessness. Could he but have his
own horse and those weapons, he would meet any two of them in the
open. They are now clamoring against the Gringos. Soon the courier
reappears. All is bustle and shouting. Far away, on the rich knolls,
Maxime sees fleet riders gathering up the horses nearest the ranch.
When Padre Francisco arrives from his morning lessons, a troop of
vaqueros are arrayed on the plaza.
"The news?" eagerly queries Maxime.
"Thanks be to God!" says the padre, "Fremont has broken camp after
five days' stay at the Hawk's Peak.
Pages:
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85