The Curse of Capistrano | Page 7

He knew the highwayman was playing with him. He
was ready to swallow his pride and call upon the corporal and soldiers
to rush in and give him aid.
And then there came a sudden battering at the door, which the native
had bolted. The heart of Gonzales gave a great leap. Somebody was
there, wishing to enter. Whoever it was would think it peculiar that the
door was not thrown open instantly by the fat landlord or his servant.
Perhaps help was at hand.
"We are interrupted, senor," the highwayman said. "I regret it, for I will
not have the time to give you the punishment you deserve, and will
have to arrange to visit you another time. You scarcely are worth a
double visit."
The pounding at the door was louder now. Gonzales raised his voice:
"Ha! We have Senor Zorro here!"
"Poltroon!" the highwayman cried.
His blade seemed to take on new life. It darted in and out with a speed

that was bewildering. It caught a thousand beams of light from the
flickering candles and hurled them back.
And suddenly it darted in and hooked itself properly, and Sergeant
Gonzales felt his sword torn from his grasp and saw it go flying
through the air.
"So!" Senor Zorro cried.
Gonzales awaited the stroke. A sob came into his throat that this must
be the end instead of on a field of battle where a soldier wishes it. But
no steel entered his breast to bring forth his life's blood.
Instead, Senor Zorro swung his left hand down, passed the hilt of his
blade to it and grasped it beside the pistol's butt, and with his right he
slapped Pedro Gonzales once across the cheek.
"That for a man who mistreats helpless natives!" he cried.
Gonzales roared in rage and shame. Somebody was trying to smash the
door in now. But Senor Zorro appeared to give it little thought. He
sprang back, and sent his blade into its scabbard like a flash. He swept
the pistol before him and thus threatened all in the long room. He
darted to a window, sprang upon a bench.
"Until a later time, senor!" he cried.
And then he went through the window as a mountain goat jumps from a
cliff, taking its covering with him. In rushed the wind and rain, and the
candles went out.
"After him!" Gonzales screeched, springing across the room and
grasping his blade again. "Unbar the door! Out and after him!
Remember, there is a generous reward--"
The corporal reached the door first, and threw it open. In stumbled two
men of the pueblo, eager for wine and an explanation of the fastened
door. Sergeant Gonzales and his comrades drove over them, left them

sprawling, and dashed into the storm.
But there was little use in it. It was so dark a man could not see a
distance of a horse's length. The beating rain was enough to obliterate
tracks almost instantly. Senor Zorro was gone--and no man could tell in
what direction.
There was a tumult, of course, in which the men of the pueblo joined.
Sergeant Gonzales and the soldiers returned to the inn to find it full of
men they knew. And Sergeant Gonzales knew, also, that his reputation
was now at stake.
"Nobody but a highwayman, nobody but a cutthroat and thief would
have done it!" he cried aloud.
"How is that, brave one?" cried a man in the throng near the doorway.
"This pretty Senor Zorro knew, of course! Some days ago I broke the
thumb of my sword hand while fencing at San Juan Capistrano. No
doubt the word was passed to this Senor Zorro. And he visits me at
such a time that he may afterward say he had vanquished me."
The corporal and soldiers and landlord stared at him, but none was
brave enough to say a word.
"Those who were here can tell you, senores," Gonzales went on. "This
Senor Zorro came in at the door and immediately drew a pistol--devil's
weapon--from beneath his cloak. He presents it at us, and forces all
except me to retire to that corner. I refused to retire.
"Then you shall fight me," says this pretty highwayman, and I draw my
blade, thinking to make an end of the pest. And what does he tell me
then?
"'We shall fight,' he says, 'and I will outpoint you, so that I may boast
of it afterward, in my left hand I hold the pistol. If your attack is not to
my liking, I shall fire, and afterward run you through, and so make an
end of a certain sergeant.'"

The corporal gasped, and the fat landlord was almost ready to speak,
but thought better of it when Sergeant Gonzales glared at him.
"Could anything