At the cuartel, it was time for the evening guard change. Capitán Monastario was supervising from the steps of his office. He was feeling a bit more testy than usual because Zorro had appeared either in the pueblo or the cuartel three nights running and foiled his plans.
They had chased him through the night for hours with no results. As he looked out across to the jail cells, he saw the peon sitting there forlornly. He was the only prisoner. The more Monastario thought about it, the more he realized that he was tired and that he wanted a good night’s sleep for a change. Now if the peon remained, Zorro would come. If the peon were gone, . . . he mused . . . he might get some undisturbed sleep. Was it worth it to keep the peon in jail? No, he decided. It was not.
“Guards!” he shouted. “Release the prisoner!”
“Begging your pardon, Commandanté, but did you just say ‘Release the prisoner?’” asked an incredulous Sergeant Garcia walking up to the foot of the steps.
“Yes, that is what I said,” snapped Monastario. “I have changed my mind. Let him go. I want peace and quiet around here tonight and I won’t get it if he is here. I do not want there to be any reason for Zorro to come here tonight. Now do what I say!”
“Si, mi Commandanté!” said Sergeant Garcia saluting smartly.
“And, Sergeant. Give the rest of the men the evening off. Just tell them to be quiet. I do not wish to be disturbed. Is that clear?” Not waiting for answer, Monastario turned and went into his quarters, already anticipating a quiet evening of sipping some wine while reading a good book and then climbing early into bed for a good night’s sleep.
The Sergeant saluted again and said, “Si, mi Commandanté! It is clear!” But he was only speaking to Monsastario’s closed door. Shaking his head in wonder, the Sergeant went over to the jail cell and opened the door.
At first, the peon would not come out, fearing a trap, but the Sergeant reached in and physically pulled the man out and said, “It is your good fortune that the commandanté is feeling generous tonight. Now go!” He pushed the peon toward the cuartel gate. The peon questioned nothing further and ran hastily out of the cuartel with the Sergeant looking after him.
Next, he went to the lancer’s barracks and released all of them except the regular guards from duty. The soldiers could not believe it. So rare where their days off that they almost did not know how to react. All but Corporal Reyes. His eyes widened from their normal half lidded state as he said brightly, “That means we can go to the tavern!”
Soon Sergeant Garcia was the only one still in the barracks. When he realized this, he yelled, “Wait for me!” Then he clamped his hand across his mouth fearing that Monastario might have heard him.
“Wait for me!” he whispered loudly as he made a beeline for the tavern.
A bit later, Zorro arrived at the cuartel. It was fully dark. As he came through the trees behind the cuartel, he saw that there was a family of Indians camped there for the night. They had pulled a wagon next to the place where Zorro usually chose to climb over the cuartel wall. The family was gathered around a little fire, eating their supper. Zorro wondered about that because the soldiers usually kept everyone away from the walls. He sighed to himself. Now he would have to find another way into the cuartel. This meant it was going to take much longer than he had thought to free the peon. He circled around the cuartel silently and came up by the apothecary’s house. It was on the corner between the cuartel and the church.
He backed Tornado into a deep shadow and told him to wait. Tornado was agreeable. Since he had gotten his run, he was ready to wait patiently for his master to return.
The church was covered in scaffolding because it was being refurbished, and Zorro saw that he could climb up on it and swing over to the soldier’s barracks lining the near wall of the cuartel on a rope that was being used to pull material up to the church’s roof. Just as he was about to start his climb, a small white dog with patches of brown came up and started growling at him.
Zorro did not move, but this only inspired the little dog to start barking. At first, Zorro was tempted to try and run the dog off, but then he decided that a better way would be to make friends with the little animal, then perhaps he would be quiet.
Squatting down on his heels, he held out his hand and called softly, “Here boy. Come here. Let us be friends for the night, all right?” The dog approached him suspiciously, but finally let himself be scratched behind his ears and under the chin. Tornado snorted.
Zorro looked up at his equine companion and said, “Jealous, my friend?” He smiled as he said, “This is only temporary, I assure you.” He patted the dog one last time, and then looking around to see if anyone was about, began to climb the scaffolding again.
He stopped immediately after only a few feet, because now the little dog was jumping up over and over trying to follow him. “Go home, little one,” said Zorro gently, feeling apprehension building. If he could not get rid of this dog, someone would be bound to wonder why he was jumping up and down looking upwards like that.
The little dog just looked up at Zorro adoringly. He had found a friend and had no intentions of leaving. He began jumping again and whining. Zorro shook his head and sighed. He had solved one problem only to create another.
He climbed back down and went to his saddlebag. There he found some of the jerky that he kept for emergencies in case he should be caught out, unable to return home. Picking up the dog, he carried him over to the apothecary’s door. It was unlocked. He put the dog and the jerky inside and shut the door quickly.
As he turned to go, he was pulled up short and almost choked as he found the corner of his cape was caught in the door. Opening the door to free the cape let the little dog out again who refused to be caught twice. The dog danced just out of reach. Zorro shook his fist at the dog silently. He was becoming desperate. He decided to enlist the aid of Tornado.
“Tornado, make friends with the dog would you?” he said through his teeth, looking around for anyone who might be looking his way. Fortunately, all was still quiet. Tornado lowered his head to sniff at the little dog. The dog was mesmerized by the larger horse and stood still, nose to nose with Tornado.
Zorro scooped him up, and with another piece of jerky, had the dog back in the apothecary’s shop before the dog knew what had happened to him. With relief, Zorro patted Tornado on the neck and said, “Well done, my friend. Now wait here.” He swiftly began to climb the church scaffolding.
Glad to be about his business at last, Zorro soon reached the top of the scaffold. He grabbed hold of the rope and pulled on it a couple of times to see that it was secure. He had just started to swing across when two soldiers, with señoritas on their arms, came strolling down by the church. They were talking and laughing as they enjoyed their brief freedom for the evening.
They stopped just by the corner of the cuartel and Zorro could hear very clearly the soldiers flattering the señoritas and the laughter that followed. He grew impatient as he waited, slapping his hand silently against his thigh. The soldiers grew more intimate with their ladies and soon each couple was only interested in themselves. They had eyes only for each other.
Finally, Zorro decided he could not wait any longer. He gathered up the rope’s loose end and tucked it into his banda to make sure that it did not get caught on anything and prepared to swing across. If he was silent, he did not think that the soldiers would look up and see him flying just behind them across to the cuartel. They did have their backs to him after all.
Taking a deep breath, Zorro launched out on the rope. At the bottom of the arc, at the point where he was expecting to start back up to the cuartel roof, he was surprised to find himself being lowered slowly, gently, and silently towards the ground. The rope was sliding through the pulley at the top of the scaffolding and Zorro could only hang on in amazement as he was deposited gently on the ground. If anyone had chanced to look in that direction, they would have seen Zorro standing in the middle of the street, behind the soldiers and their señoritas, holding on to the end of a rope and looking upwards in disbelief.
This tableau did not last long; however, for Zorro dropped the rope and leapt for the shadows where he stopped to see if he had been noticed. But the soldiers and their ladies were still oblivious to everything.
Zorro was wondering just what saint he must have offended. Never had he had a night like this one! He kept to his shadow until he was sure it was safe to leave. Preoccupied with keeping the soldiers from seeing him, he stole away silently along the street looking back over his shoulder at them. He did manage to skirt a rather large puddle without losing sight of them.
Just as he turned to look where he was going, he ran right into Sergeant Garcia’s stomach. The Sergeant had just come from the baker’s house and had a loaf of bread in each hand, one of which had a large portion missing. Zorro was himself a substantial man, but the rebound threw him back several paces and he found himself windmilling his arms as he tried desperately to keep his balance and not fall backwards into the mud puddle. As badly as this night was going, he was nevertheless determined not to have muddy water splashed all over him!
Although the Sergeant had a mouthful of bread, he attempted to cry Zorro’s name and only succeeded in choking himself. When he recovered, Garcia looked helplessly at the bread in each hand and then with a backhanded flip, threw his bread away. Chewing furiously, he pulled his sword and attacked Zorro.
Zorro finally got himself righted just in time to meet the Sergeant’s sword with his own. If he had not been out of sorts, he would have found the whole thing amusing. But he fought from necessity, not amusement, this night.
The sergeant did find himself wondering in the back of his mind where Zorro’s famous smile was.
Carefully choosing his ground, Zorro moved far away from the looming puddle and neatly disarmed the Sergeant. By this time, the other soldiers had come running after hearing the commotion. Zorro had no choice but to run for Tornado and make his escape. A mile or so out of town he pulled up, surprised to find no one in pursuit. What he did not know is that the Sergeant had stopped the soldiers before they could give chase.
Garcia knew that the commandanté did not want to be disturbed tonight and they never caught Zorro anyhow, so why spoil an evening off by chasing him? He told the soldiers to go back and enjoy the rest of their time off.
He was sad about his bread though as he found the remains in the mud. It never occurred to him to wonder why Zorro was in the pueblo this night.
Zorro found himself wondering if he should continue his mission or not. How tempting it was to go back home, crawl into bed, and forget the whole thing. He could try again tomorrow night. But he knew the peon would be counting on Zorro to get him out of the jail, and so he could not bring himself to abandon him.
Sighing again, he and Tornado silently stole back into town, back to the shadows of the apothecary’s shop. The soldiers and their señoritas had gone back into the tavern, leaving the streets deserted.
Back at the church, Zorro picked up the end of the rope dangling from the pulley and carried it back up to the top of the scaffolding. This time, he secured the rope himself, and swung swiftly across to the roof of the cuartel. Breathing a sigh of relief that he had made it this far at least, he climbed over the barrack’s roof and down onto the roof of the stable. From there he dropped down to the ground.
Looking about, he did not see any guards posted inside the cuartel which he found to be curious. Shrugging his shoulders and accepting this little bit of good fortune on a night when it was in short supply, he made his way over to the jail cells.
Table of Contents
Part One
Part Two
Part Four
