The Curse of Capistrano | Page 4

shall escort you safely home through the rain!" Sergeant Gonzales
cried, for he knew full well that Don Diego had excellent wine of age
there.
"You shall remain here before the roaring fire," Don Diego told him
firmly. "I do not need an escort of soldiers from the presidio to cross
the plaza. I am going over accounts with my secretary, and possibly
may return to the tavern after we have finished. I wanted the pot of
honey that we might eat as we worked."
"Ha! And why did you not send that secretary of yours for the honey,
caballero? Why be wealthy and have servants, if a man cannot send
them on errands on such a stormy night?"
"He is an old man and feeble," Don Diego explained. "He also is
secretary to my aged father. The storm would kill him. Landlord, serve
all here with wine and put it to my account. I may return when my
books have been straightened."
Don Diego Vega picked up the pot of honey, wrapped his scrape
around his head, opened the door, and plunged into the storm and
darkness.
"There goes a man!" Gonzales cried, flourishing his arms. "He is my
friend, that caballero, and I would have all men know it! He seldom
wears a blade, and I doubt whether he can use one--but he is my friend!

The flashing dark eyes of lovely senoritas do not disturb him, yet I
swear he is a pattern of a man!
"Music and the poets, eh? Ha! Has he not the right, if such is his
pleasure? Is he not Don Diego Vega? Has he not blue blood and broad
acres and great storehouses filled with goods? Is he not liberal? He may
stand on his head or wear petticoats, if "it please him--yet I swear he is
a pattern of a man!"
The soldiers echoed his sentiments since they were drinking Don
Diego's wine and did not have the courage to combat the sergeant's
statements anyway. The fat landlord served them with another round
since Don Diego would pay. For it was beneath a Vega to look at his
score in a public tavern, and the fat landlord many times had taken
advantage of this fact.
"He cannot endure the thought of violence or bloodshed," Sergeant
Gonzales continued. "He is as gentle as a breeze of spring. Yet he has a
firm wrist and a deep eye. It merely is the caballero's manner of seeing
life. Did I but have his youth and good looks and riches-- Ha! There
would be a stream of broken hearts from San Diego de Alcala to San
Francisco de Asis!"
"And broken heads!" the corporal offered.
"Ha! And broken heads, comrade! I would rule the country! No
youngster should stand long in my way. Out with blade and at them!
Cross Pedro Gonzales, eh? Ha! Through the shoulder--neatly! Ha!
Through a lung!"
Gonzales was upon his feet now, and his blade had leaped from its
scabbard. He swept it back and forth through the air, thrust, parried,
lunged, advanced, and retreated, shouted his oaths, and roared his
laughter as he fought with shadows.
"That is the manner of it!" he screeched at the fireplace. "What have we
here? Two of you against one? So much the better, senores! We love
brave odds! Ha! Have at you, dog! Die, hound! One side, poltroon!"

He reeled against the wall, gasping, his breath almost gone, the. point
of his blade resting on the floor, his great face purple with the exertion
and the wine he had consumed, while the corporal and the soldiers and
the fat landlord laughed long and loudly at this bloodless battle from
which Sergeant Pedro Gonzales had emerged the unquestioned victor.
"Were--were this fine Senor Zorro only before me here and now!" the
sergeant gasped.
And again the door was opened suddenly, and a man entered the inn on
a gust of the storm.
Chapter 3
Senor Zorro Pays a Visit
THE NATIVE HURRIED forward to fasten the door against the force
of the wind, and then retreated to his corner again. The newcomer had
his back toward those in the long room. They could see that his
sombrero was pulled far down on his head, as if to prevent die wind
from whisking it away, and that his body was enveloped in a long cloak
that was wringing wet.
With his back still toward them, he opened the cloak and shook the
raindrops from it and then folded it across his breast again as the fat
landlord hurried forward, rubbing his hands together in expectation, for
he deemed that here was some caballero off the highway who would
pay good coin for food and bed and care for his horse.
When the landlord was within