The Curse of Capistrano | Page 2

conversation and so
avert trouble.
"They are saying in the pueblo," he announced, "that this Senor Zorro
is abroad again."
His words had an effect that was both unexpected and terrible to
witness. Sergeant Pedro Gonzales hurled his half-filled wine mug to the
hard dirt floor, straightened suddenly on the bench, and crashed a
ponderous fist down upon the table, causing wine mugs and cards and
coins to scatter in all directions.
The corporal and the three soldiers retreated a few feet in sudden fright,
and the red face of the landlord blanched; the native sitting in the
corner started to creep toward the door, having determined that he
preferred the storm outside to the big sergeant's anger.
"Senor Zorro, eh?" Conzales cried in a terrible voice. "Is it my fate
always to hear that name? Senor Zorro, eh? Mr. Fox, in other words!
He imagines, I take it, that he is as cunning as-one. By the saints, he

raises as much stench!"
Gonzales gulped, turned to face them squarely, and continued his
tirade.
"He runs up and down the length of El Camino Real like a goat of the
high hills! He wears a mask, and he flashes a pretty blade, they tell me.
He uses the point of it to carve his hated letter Z on the cheek of his foe!
Ha! The mark of Zorro they are calling it! A pretty blade he has, in
truth! But I cannot swear as to the blade--I never have seen it. He will
not do me the honor of letting me see it! Senor Zorro's depredations
never occur in the vicinity of Sergeant Pedro Gonzales! Perhaps this
Senor Zorro can tell us the reason for that? Ha!"
He glared at the men before him, threw up his upper lip, and let the
ends of his great black mustache bristle.
"They are calling him the Curse of Capistrano now," the fat landlord
observed, stooping to pick up the wine mug and cards and hoping to
filch a coin in the process.
"Curse of the entire highway and the whole mission chain!" Sergeant
Gonzales roared. "A cutthroat, he is! A thief! Ha! A common fellow
presuming to get him a reputation for bravery because he robs a
hacienda or so and frightens a few women and natives! Senor Zorro, eh?
Here is one fox it gives me pleasure to hunt! Curse of Capistrano, eh? I
know I have led an evil life, but I only ask of the saints one thing
now--that they forgive me my sins long enough to grant me the boon of
standing face to face with this pretty highwayman!"
"There is a reward--" the landlord began.
"You snatch the very words from my lips!" Sergeant Gonzales
protested. "There is a pretty reward for the fellow's capture, offered by
his excellency the governor. And what good fortune has come to my
blade? I am away on duty at San Juan Capistrano, and the fellow makes
his play at Santa Barbara. I am at Reina de Los Angeles, and he takes a
fat purse at San Luis Reydine at San Gabriel, let us say, and he robs at

San Diego de Alcala! A pest, he is! Once I met him--"
Sergeant Gonzales choked on his wrath and reached for the wine mug,
which the landlord had filled again and placed at his elbow. He gulped-
down the contents. "Well, he never has visited us here," the landlord
said with a sigh of thanksgiving.
"Good reason, fat one! Ample reason! We have a presidio here and a
few soldiers. He rides far from any presidio, does this pretty Senor
Zorro! He is like a fleeting sunbeam, I grant him that--and with about
as much real courage!"
Sergeant Gonzales relaxed on the bench again, and the landlord gave
him a glance that was full of relief, and began to hope that there would
be no breakage of mugs and furniture and men's faces this rainy night.
"Yet this Senor Zorro must rest at times--he must eat and sleep," the
landlord said. "It is certain that he must have some place for hiding and
recuperation. Some fine day the soldiers will trail him to his den."
"Ha!" Gonzales replied. "Of course the man has to eat and sleep. And
what is it that he claims now? He says that he is no real thief, by the
saints! He is but punishing those who mistreat the men of the missions,
he says. Friend of the oppressed, eh? He left a placard at Santa Barbara
recently stating as much, did he not? Ha! And what may be the reply to
that? The frailes of the missions are shielding him, hiding him, giving
him his meat and drink! Shake down a robed fray and you'll find some
trace