The Curse of Capistrano

The Curse of Capistrano
by Johnston McCulley
1919
Contents
Pedro, the Boaster On the Heels of the Storm Senor Zorro Pays a Visit
Swords Clash--And Pedro Explains A Ride in the Morning Diego
Seeks a Bride A Different Sort of Man Don Carlos Plays a Game The
Clash of Blades A Hint at Jealousy Three Suitors A Visit Love Comes
Swiftly Captain Ramone Writes a Letter At the Presidio The Chase
That Failed Sergeant Gonzales Meets a Friend Don Diego Returns
Captain Ramone Apologizes Don Diego Shows Interest The Whipping
Swift Punishment More Punishment At the Hacienda of Don Alejandro
A League is Formed An Understanding Orders For Arrest The Outrage
Don Pulido Feels Ill The Sign of the Fox The Rescue Close Quarters
Flight and Pursuit The Blood of the Pulidos The Clash of Blades Again
All Against Them The Fox at the Bay The Man Unmasked "Meal Mush
and Goat's Milk!"
Chapter 1
Pedro, the Boaster
AGAIN THE SHEET of rain beat against the roof of red Spanish tile,
and the wind shrieked like a soul in torment, and smoke puffed from
the big fireplace as the sparks were showered over the hard dirt floor.
"Tis a night for evil deeds!" declared Sergeant Pedro Gonzales,
stretching his great feet in their loose boots toward the roaring fire and
grasping the hilt of his sword in one hand and a mug filled with thin
wine in the other. "Devils howl in the wind, and demons are in the
raindrops! Tis an evil night, indeed--eh, senor?"

"It is!" The fat landlord agreed hastily; and he made haste, also, to fill
the wine mug again, for Sergeant Pedro Gonzales had a temper that was
terrible when aroused, as it always was when wine was not
forthcoming.
"An evil night," the big sergeant repeated, and drained the mug without
stopping to draw breath, a feat that had attracted considerable attention
in its time and had gained the sergeant a certain amount of notoriety up
and down El Camino Real, as they called the highway that connected
the missions in one long chain.
Gonzales sprawled closer to the fire and cared not that other men thus
were robbed of some of its warmth. Sergeant Pedro Gonzales often had
expressed his belief that a man should look out for his own comfort
before considering others; and being of great size and strength, and
having much skill with the blade, he found few who had the courage to
declare that they believed otherwise.
Outside the wind shrieked, and the rain dashed against the ground in a
solid sheet. It was a typical February storm for southern California. At
the missions the frailes had cared for the stock and had closed the
buildings for the night. At every great hacienda big fires were burning
in the houses. The timid natives kept to their little adobe huts, glad for
shelter.
And here in the little pueblo of Reina de Los Angeles, where, in years
to come, a great city would grow, the tavern on one side of the plaza
housed for the time being men who would sprawl before the fire until
the dawn rather than face the beating rain.
Sergeant Pedro Gonzales, by virtue of his rank and size, hogged the
fireplace, and a corporal and three soldiers from the presidio sat at table
a little in rear of him, drinking their thin wine and playing at cards. An
Indian servant crouched on his heels in one corner, no neophyte who
had accepted the religion of the frailes, but a gentile and renegade.
For this was in the day of the decadence of the missions, and there was
little peace between the robed Franciscans who followed in the

footsteps of the sainted Junipero Serra, who had founded the first
mission at San Diego de Alcala, and thus made possible an empire, and
those who followed the politicians and had high places in the army.
The men who drank wine in the tavern at Reina de Los Angeles had no
wish for a spying neophyte about them.
Just now conversation had died out, a fact that annoyed the fat landlord
and caused him some fear; for Sergeant Pedro Gonzales in an argument
was Sergeant Gonzales at peace; and unless he could talk the big
soldier might feel moved to action and start a brawl.
Twice before Gonzales had done so, to the great damage of furniture
and men's faces; and the landlord had appealed to the comandante of
the presidio, Captain Ramon, only to be informed that the captain had
an abundance of troubles of his own, and that running an inn was not
one of them.
So the landlord regarded Gonzales warily and edged closer to the long
table and spoke in an attempt to start a general