CHAPTER XXVII. AN HONEST MAN.

It was about two in the afternoon. There was not a breath of air, the country seemed to have fallen asleep under the weight of a leaden sun, whose burning beams fell from heaven with the colour of burnished copper on the gaping earth, and made the pebbles flash like so many diamonds on a wide and tortuous road which wound with infinite curves across an arid plain covered with greyish white rocks, on whose sides a blending light formed a cascade of fire. The perfectly transparent atmosphere, such as always exists in countries deprived of humidity, allowed the diversities of the country to be plainly distinguished as far as the horizon, with a crudity of forms, and details which, owing to the want of aerial perspective, gave them something harsh which saddened the eye. At a spot where this road separated into several branches, and formed a species of square, stood a small house with white walls and Italian roof, whose door was ornamented by a portello of coarsely planed tree trunks, supporting a balcony of trellis work which enclosed it like a cage. This cottage was a venta. Several horses tied by the bridle to the portello, with sadly hanging heads, heaving sides, and running down with perspiration, seemed to be as much exhausted by the heat as by fatigue. Here and there several men, rolled up in their sarapes, with their heads in the shade and their feet in the sun, were sleeping, according to the Spanish expression, a pierna suelta.

These men were guerilleros: a sentry half asleep, leaning on his lance, and with his back against the wall, was supposed to be watching the arms of the cuadrilla, arranged in a file. Under the portello, a man seated in a hammock, was desperately strumming a jarana, while singing in a ropy voice the languishingly amorous words of a triste. A fat little man, with grey eyes full of motion, and a mocking countenance, came out of the venta and approached the hammock.

"Se?or don Felipe," he said with a respectful bow to the improvised musician; "will you not dine?"

"Se?or ventero," the officer answered roughly "when you speak to me, you might, I think, be more respectful toward me, and give me the title to which I have a right—that is to say, call me Colonel."

"Excuse me, Excellency," the host replied with a deeper bow than the first; "I am a ventero, and very little acquainted with military ranks."

"That will do—you are excused! I will not dine yet, for I am expecting someone who has not yet arrived, but will be here shortly."

"That is certainly very unfortunate, se?or coronel don Felipe," the ventero remarked; "a dinner that I have prepared with so much care, will be entirely spoiled."

"That would be a misfortune; but what is to be done? Well, lay the table, I have waited long enough, and have too formidable an appetite to delay any longer."

The landlord bowed, and at once retired. In the meanwhile the guerillero had made up his mind to leave his hammock, and lay aside his jarana for the present. After rolling and lighting a husk cigarette, he carelessly walked a few paces towards the end of the portello, and with his arms crossed on his back, and cigarette in his mouth, surveyed the country. A horseman, enfolded in a dense cloud of dust raised by his rapid pace, was coming toward him. Don Felipe uttered a cry of joy, for he was certain that the horseman coming toward him was the person he had so long been expecting.

"Ouf!" the traveller said, stopping his horse short before the portello and leaping off; "I could not stand it any longer, válgame Dios; what a horrible heat!"

At a sign from the colonel, a soldier took the horse and led it to the corral.

"Ah, se?or don Diego, you are welcome," said the colonel, as he offered his hand; "I have almost despaired of seeing you. Dinner is waiting for us: after such a ride, you must be almost dead of hunger."

The ventero introduced them into a retired cuarto. The two guests sat down to table and vigorously attacked the dishes placed before them. During the first part of the dinner, being fully occupied with satisfying the claims of an appetite sharpened by a long abstinence, they only interchanged a few words; but ere long their ardour was calmed, they threw themselves back on their butacas with an "ah" of satisfaction, lit their cigarettes and began smoking them, while sipping some excellent Catalu?a refino which the host had brought as the wind up of the dinner.

"There," don Diego said, "now that we have fed well—thanks be to Heaven and Saint Julian, the patron saint of travellers—suppose we talk a little, my dear Colonel."

"I am quite ready," the other answered with a crafty smile.

"Well," don Diego continued, "I will tell that I spoke yesterday to the general about an affair which I intended to propose to you, and what do you think his answer was? Do not do, my dear don Diego; in spite of his great talents, don Felipe is an ass imbued with the most absurd prejudices, he would not understand the great patriotic purpose of the affair you proposed to him, he would only see the money and refuse with a laugh in your face, although certainly twenty-five thousand piastres are a very handsome sum; and he added in conclusion—well, since you have made an appointment with him, go and see him; if only for the singularity of the fact, you had better see. Now, if you think proper to mention the affair to him, he will shut your mouth and send you and your twenty-five thousand piastres to the deuce."

"Hum!" said the colonel, to whom the amount caused serious reflection.

Don Diego examined him with a corner of his eye.

"Well," he continued, as he threw away his cigarette, "after due consideration, I am of the general's opinion, and will not talk to you about the matter."

"Ah!" the colonel said again.

"It annoys me, I confess, but I must make up my mind to it; I will go and find Cuéllar, perhaps he will not be so difficult to deal with."

"Cuéllar is a scoundrel," don Felipe exclaimed violently.

"I am well aware of it," don Diego replied gently; "but what do I care for that? By giving him ten thousand piastres beforehand, I am certain that he will accept my proposition, which has the additional advantage of being very honourable."

The colonel filled the glasses: he seemed absorbed in thought. "Confound it," he said, "that is a tidy sum you offer."

"Well, you understand, my dear sir, that I am not the man to ask any friend of mine to undertake such a job gratuitously."

"But Cuéllar is no friend of yours."

"It is true, and that is why I feel sorry about applying to him."

"But what is the matter to be done?"

"It is a secret."

"Am I not your friend? Be assured that I will be as dumb as the grave."

Don Diego appeared to reflect.

"You promise me silence?"

"I swear it on my honour."

"Well, in that case, nothing prevents me from speaking. This is simply the matter: I shall tell you nothing new, Colonel, when I mention that numerous spies, seeing both causes at once, sell without scruple to Miramón the secrets of our military operations, just as they make us pay largely for the information they supply us about those of the enemy. Now, the government of his Excellency, don Benito Juárez, has, at this moment, his eyes open upon the machinations of two men, who are strongly suspected of playing a double part; but the individuals in question are gifted with such a remarkable talent, their measures are so well taken, that, in spite of the moral certainty existing against them, it has hitherto been impossible to obtain the slightest proof of the truth. These two men must be unmasked by seizing their papers, on the delivery of which fifteen thousand piastres will be immediately paid, in addition to the ten thousand advanced. Once that the general governor has these proofs in his hands, he will not hesitate to bring them before a court-martial. You see that this affair is honourable to the person who is willing to undertake it."

"Indeed, it is a meritorious act of patriotism to acquire this certainty: and who are the two men, pray?"

"Did I not mention their names?"

"That is the only thing you have forgotten."

"Oh! These are no ordinary persons—quite the contrary: the first has just been appointed private secretary to General Ortega, while the second, I believe, has very recently raised a cuadrilla at his own expense."

"But their names—their names?"

"You know them well, or, at least, I suppose so; the first is don Antonio Cacerbar, and the second—"

"Don Melchior de la Cruz!" don Felipe interrupted, eagerly.

"You know it!" don Diego exclaimed, with perfectly well-acted surprise.

"The sudden elevation of these two men, the almost unlimited credit which they enjoy with the President, has also caused me to reflect, for no one understands this so sudden favour."

"Hence, certain persons consider it necessary to elucidate the question by assuring themselves in a positive manner about what these two men are."

"Well," don Felipe exclaimed, "I will know it! I promise you, and will give you the proofs you require."

"You will do that?"

"Yes, I swear it! The more so because I consider it the duty of an honest man to take these rogues with their hand in the bag; and," he added, with a singular smile, "no one possesses the means to obtain the result better than I."

"I trust you may not be mistaken, Colonel, for, if this were to happen, I think I may assure you that the gratitude of the government toward you will not be limited to the sum of which I am going to hand you a portion."

Don Felipe smiled proudly at this transparent allusion to the new rank of which he was ambitious.

Don Diego, without appearing to remark the smile, took from a large pocketbook a sheet of paper, and handed it to the guerillero, who seized it with a gesture of delight, and an expression of satisfied rapacity, which imparted something vile and contemptible to his features, which were generally handsome and rather regular. This paper was a draft for ten thousand piastres, payable at sight on a large English banking house in Veracruz. Don Diego rose.

"Are you going?" the colonel asked him.

"Yes; I am sorry to be compelled to leave you."

"We shall meet again soon, se?or don Diego."

The young man remounted his horse, and went off at a rapid pace.

"Ah!" he muttered, while galloping, "I think that this time the mousetrap is well set, and that the villains will be caught in it."

The colonel had reseated himself in his hammock, and had begun to strum the jarana again, with more power than accuracy.