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Other documents randomly have
different content
 CHAPTER XXIV

LOVE PROVES TRUE

The hammering at the door of the mortuary chapel ceased after a

time, for those in the main part of the church had more serious
business to occupy their attention than the attempted capture of
Captain Fly-by-Night.
The front doors of the church had been battered in, and several
times hostiles had invaded the building, but always to be driven back
after suffering heavy losses, for men can fight with thrice their usual
strength and courage when making a last stand against an
overwhelming foe.
Now storehouse and hospital building and guest house were
burning, the most of the loot having been removed, and clouds of
heavy smoke poured into the church, half suffocating the defenders
there, yet at the same time proving a blessing, since the dense pall
made it impossible for those in the plaza to get good aim at a
defender.
In a corner Señora Vallejo, some wives of ranchers and a few loyal
Indian women and children crouched, the most of the time at their
prayers. Dead men were against one wall, wounded against another,
a fray attending to the latter. At the windows and both sides of the
doorway stern men waited with muskets and pistols to fire whenever
a hostile could be seen through the smoke. Thanks to the action of
the comandante in removing supplies from the presidio, there was
an abundance of ammunition.
Yet the defenders were being cut down one at a time, and it seemed
only a question of hours until the enemy would triumph. It was the
sudden, unexpected rushes those in the church feared, for if enough
hostiles could invade the church at one time the defenders would be
scattered and cut down.
“A ghost, eh?” Cassara was shouting in Gonzales’s ear. “So this
Captain Fly-by-Night is in the mortuary chapel, eh? I told you I saw
him go into the church. He has been hiding there!”
“The imbecile trooper declares Señorita Anita is with him, and how
can that be?” Gonzales wanted to know. “We are all aware that she
was left behind in the guest house, and that Rojerio Rocha went
there to save her. Since the guest house is in flames, it is to be
supposed both died there.”
“The trooper saw double,” Cassara replied. “He had been wounded.
But Captain Fly-by-Night is there, nevertheless, and presently we
shall attend to him. Hah! When I stand before him——”
“If I do not face him first,” Gonzales interrupted.
“Bar the door, will he? ’Twill not take me long to break it in when I
am at liberty to do so. ’Ware the window, good pirate! They are
coming again!”
The hostiles had prepared for another rush, and now they made it,
plunging through the smoke and into the church in an effort to
exterminate their foes. A concentrated fire met them, as it had
several times before. Some fell; others rushed on.
Here and there the combat was hand-to-hand. Every foot of the way
they found disputed by a determined man. They were driven out
again, leaving dead and wounded behind them; and those inside
placed another man against the wall and bound up more wounds.
The smoke was stifling now. Women and children hung around the
big water jars, gasping for breath. The faces of the men were grimy,
their eyes red. Comandante and ensign rushed from one part of the
church to another, alert for possible tricks of the enemy, taking
advantage where it was possible. Frailes were building a barricade in
a corner, preparing for the forlorn hope.
The Indians in the plaza seemed to be quiet for a moment, and then
their shrieks were redoubled, and another assault was launched.
Hoarse voices of chiefs shouted orders, a fusillade of shots tore
through the doorway, and for a moment no man could live at the
windows. Then came the rush!
More than one man felt that it was the last. The ranks of the
defenders had been cut down until a mere handful remained. The
frailes hurried women and children behind the barricade in the
corner, and the soldiers retreated foot by foot, resisting stubbornly
but in vain. At close quarters shots were exchanged, blades rang,
fingers tore at throats.
“Back—back! The barricade!” the comandante ordered.
Back they fell, step by step, still resisting, carrying wounded with
them. Behind them the frailes and women were loading muskets and
pistols, for the soldiers had no time to load now. One by one they
gained the shelter of the barricade, until all were behind it, and then
the hostiles faced a volley that drove them raging back toward the
doorway. But they were inside the church—and the end was near.

In the mortuary chapel the caballero had been listening at the door,
and when he turned to face the señorita his face held an expression
she never had seen in it before.
“What is it?” she asked.
“The hostiles are inside—they have driven the defenders to a
corner,” he replied.
“Then——?”
“Everything may end for us here. They will be before us and behind
us. Either they will enter, or else fire the building. It is best to tell
you the truth, señorita; we are in a trap.”
“If—they enter—you will remember your promise?”
He held out his arms, and she slipped into them, and for a moment
their lips met. He was almost sobbing when he answered.
“I’ll remember.”
“You’ll not let them take me alive?”
“Never that, señorita! I wish we might face a different future. I am
just beginning to find life worth the living,” he said. “But at least I
can die knowing your heart is mine.”
Hostiles in the tunnel were still battering against the wall, trying to
gain entrance. The caballero had been watching there carefully, yet
found no cause for alarm. One shot had come through the crack, but
it was an easy matter to stand in such part of the chapel that no
bullet could reach them.
He crept to the door again and listened, Anita close behind him. The
shots seemed to be scattering now, and he sensed that the Indians
were preparing for the last rush. He heard the comandante shouting
orders. Children were crying; the voice of a fray in prayer could be
heard above the din.
Again the men in the tunnel assaulted the wall, and the caballero left
the door quickly to stand in the centre of the room, pistol and sword
ready in case an entrance should be made. But the barricade he had
constructed against the section of masonry held despite the furious
attack upon it.
In the church there was another chorus of shrieks, a volley, cries of
pain and rage—for the final attack had begun. The caballero clasped
Anita in his arms again, and so they waited for the end, the girl with
her face against his shoulder and fingers in ears to keep out the
death wails and frenzied cries.
The defenders were shouting now, in mock courage the caballero
thought, going down to their deaths fighting, dying like men.
Suddenly the battering at the wall ceased, and cries from the tunnel
told that the Indians were retreating quickly. Word had been passed
to them, he supposed, that victory was in the front, and they were
eager to be in at the death. They would watch the outlets of the
tunnel, of course; there could be no escape that way.
“It is the end, beloved,” the caballero breathed. “Our love dies
almost as soon as ’twas born. You do not regret——?”
“I regret only that we cannot spend a life together, my caballero,”
she replied. “Ah, ’tis cruel!”
Again their lips touched, and then he half turned from her, and
motioned to the corner.
“Pray,” he whispered. “Pray there, beloved, with your back to me. I
could not do it if I looked into your face. Pray until the end——”
Now she was white of face, and her lips were trembling, but she
only looked him once in the eyes and then did as he said. Facing the
wall, she knelt and prayed, while the caballero looked to his pistol to
see that it was properly charged, and himself said a prayer under his
breath.
Six feet behind her he stood, his eyes upon the floor, his ears
strained to catch every sound from the church. The defenders were
putting up a stubborn resistance, for the comandante was still
screeching orders, and the volleys crashed, and the hostiles shrieked
their anger at being held from their prey.
And then the tone of the shrieks changed from anger to fear! The
caballero stepped swiftly close to the door. He heard the defenders
cheering; heard heavy volleying that was not inside the church;
heard strong voices raised in shouts and the sound of galloping
hoofs, the wailing cry of a fray.
“My God, I thank Thee!”
Sergeant Cassara’s great voice was raised in a howl of relief and
encouragement. Running feet sounded in the church. The caballero’s
heart was pounding at his ribs, and he was trying to beat from his
brain the sudden hope he felt for fear it would prove unfounded.
Another volley; another chorus of shrieks as from a far distance;
more cries of anger, and gladness, and surprise! Then a strong voice
that had not been heard before:
“At those flames, some of you men! Help the wounded here! Get the
women and children out of the smoke! Lieutenant, see that every
hostile is run down—we want not one to escape! If we had been a
minute later——”
Señorita Anita, busy with her prayers and her agony of mind, had
not noticed these things. And now the caballero, with a glad cry, ran
to her, lifted her bodily from the floor, and covered her face with
kisses.
“The Governor, beloved!” he cried. “His excellency has come—in
time! Oh, beloved—beloved!”
Once more the pounding on the door!
“Open, in the Governor’s name! We know you are there, Captain Fly-
by-Night! There is no escape! Open!”
The caballero stood in the centre of the chapel with Anita nestling
against his breast, and he spoke in whispers, giving no attention to
the summons at the door.
“You are safe now, beloved,” he said. “The world has not come to an
end, you see. It is pretty much as it was before this revolt. You can
be again with your friends, with people of your rank. Is life not good
—after all?”
“With you it is,” she whispered in reply.
“When all was dark you spoke of love to me,” he went on. “There
was nothing in the future for you then. But now there is everything
in the future. You can face the world again——”
“Stained by a relative’s act, caballero?”
“Who knows of that? It is believed Rojerio Rocha died a loyal man.
You know differently, and your duenna, and myself. None ever will
open lips to speak of it. None other ever will know, señorita. You can
hold up your pretty head as before, and live, and be happy. At the
rancho the months will dim the memories of this thing. Think,
señorita! You have no need of me now.”
“No need of you?” she asked.
“Have you, señorita? Things are different now. No longer do you
need the worthless caballero like myself. Could you hold up your
head if ’twas known Captain Fly-by-Night held your love?”
“I could,” she said, “and proudly!”
“If the man who boasted had won you——?”
“Still, I could!”
“Gambler, thief—renegade——?”
“The caballero who saved me, and whom I love—none other! And no
renegade!”
“Yet there were orders to take me, dead or alive. Think you these
dead and wounded men will change the Governor’s mind? I swear I
had no part in this revolt, señorita, but none will think so, except
perhaps your charitable self.”
They were pounding on the door again, but the caballero gave no
reply.
“I love you,” she said simply.
“You gave me word of your love while in deadly peril, señorita, at a
time when no other man could offer you protection, perhaps through
momentary gratitude at what I had done. Now it is not necessary,
señorita, for you to stand by that word. You have but to go through
that door to be with your friends again—you need not lower yourself
longer by companionship with Captain Fly-by-Night.”
“There is no one else,” she answered. “All are gone. And were there
a million, did to stand by you mean to be ostracized by all the world,
yet by your side I’d stand. Anita Fernandez does not give love for
gratitude, señor. And she gives it but once!”
“My beloved!” he cried, holding her close.
Now the battering at the door would be denied no longer, and the
Governor’s voice came to them.
“Inside, there! Open, Fly-by-Night, for there is no escape. If you
have harmed the señorita——”
“I am here and safe,” the girl called.
“Thank Heaven!” they heard the Governor exclaim. “Open and
surrender, Fly-by-Night! Surrender and take the consequences of
your act!”
The caballero looked down at the girl again.
“There is no other way,” he said. “There is no escape——”
“N—no! Have you forgotten? Even if you can prove you had no part
in the uprising, there is still another charge. Did you not slay Rojerio
Rocha? He was the Governor’s friend. My word, the señora’s, that he
was the real renegade, would not be taken in the absence of other
proof. Think you the Governor would believe ill of his dead friend?
They’d have your life——”
“There is no other way, beloved. One kiss—again—and I must open
the door!”
“No—no! I cannot lose you now!”
“It would be better for you to pretend no interest in me,” he said.
“Then my death as a felon will not stain you.”
“I stand by you, caballero, in the fact of whatever may occur; I tell
my love to the world as soon as you open that door; I fight to save
you—use every influence—and will be proud to let all know it! What
care I what the world says, caballero? I know the man who holds my
love—know him better than the world that has maligned him——”
“Ah!” he cried, and covered her face with kisses again. “This were
love indeed!”
“Open the door, or we batter it down!” thundered the Governor’s
voice.
“I’ll open it presently!” the caballero cried.
In the other room there was quiet for a moment while they awaited
the caballero’s appearance. Before the door were Gonzales, Cassara,
Ensign Sanchez, the lieutenant, all with swords drawn and held
ready, all of them wounded slightly, all fatigued, yet all eager to
cross blades with Captain Fly-by-Night.
“Back!” the Governor was ordering them. “I want this man alive, to
make an example of him!”
Inside, the caballero took his arms from around the girl, and stepped
to the door. In the face of such a predicament he still could smile
and hum a song. But, as he touched the bar, Anita grasped his arm.
“I go out first,” she said.
“No——”
“Ah, do not deny me! There is something I would say——”
“As you please, señorita.”
“Kiss me again—again! Now—open the door!”
He took down the heavy bar and threw the door open. Those
outside beheld Señorita Anita Fernandez standing before them, the
caballero behind her. The girl’s head was lifted proudly, and her eyes
flashed as of old, and she looked the Governor straight in the face as
she spoke:
“Before this man gives himself to you I want you to know that I love
him better than all the world——”
“Anita!” cried Señora Vallejo from one side.
“I want you to know that he denies being a leader of the hostiles,
and that I believe him. Twice he saved me from dishonour and
death. No affront has he offered. It is true he killed Rojerio Rocha,
and, as for that——”
She stopped; for suddenly the caballero had stepped beside her, the
whimsical smile playing about his face.
“Good day, your excellency!” he said, bowing low.
And his excellency, the Governor, bent forward, eyes bulging, lower
jaw sagging for a brief second, then straightened and roared aloud:
“By the saints! Killed Rojerio Rocha, eh, girl? Hah! By the saints, this
man before us is Rojerio Rocha, my good friend! Ah, boy, boy! They
told me you had been slain!”
Before them all he took the dishevelled caballero in his arms!
 CHAPTER XXV

THE SERGEANT SLEEPS AGAIN

“Explain, rogue!” cried the Governor half an hour later. They were in
the plaza, where a temporary camp had been established. The fires
were out, the smoke had drifted away. Wounded had received
attention, and preparations were being made for burying the dead.
In all directions troopers pursued hostiles and cut them down.
His excellency had told how the revolt at San Luis Rey de Francia
and other missions had been quelled. The body on the floor of the
guest house had been examined and word passed that here was the
genuine Fly-by-Night, renegade and conspirator, and that the real
Rojerio Rocha had slain him.
“Explain?” the caballero echoed. “’Tis a simple matter. When I
reached San Diego de Alcalá I was mistaken for this Fly-by-Night. I
thought to have jest by assuming the rôle. Then the hostiles, taking
me for their leader through the same misunderstanding, came to tell
me their plans. Being a loyal man, I maintained my rôle to learn all
possible, and tried in every way to delay the attack until the force
from the north could arrive.”
“Very good, my boy!” his excellency exclaimed.
“But they grew suspicious and soon I found myself at outs with
white men and red. Then came word for Captain Fly-by-Night to be
taken dead or alive at all costs. To everyone here I was Fly-by-Night,
of course. The description sent——”
“A fool of a cleric copied your description from the pass record by
mistake,” cried the Governor. “I’ll send him packing when I return!”
“It was at San Juan Capistrano that I first met discourtesy,” the
caballero went on. “They knew of this Fly-by-Night’s insult to the
señorita, assumed I was the man come to win her, and gave me to
understand how they regarded me. Sorry trouble I faced by
pretending to be another man.
“Then the real Fly-by-Night came, and because Rojerio Rocha was
due, he was hailed as such. It amused him, no doubt, to be called
Rocha and introduced to the señorita, placed in a position to win her.
Moreover, it gave him a chance to continue plotting in security—for
who would suspect Rojerio Rocha? You understand? And I could say
nothing then, being known as Fly-by-Night. Oh, it was a pretty mess!
Things were happening with such rapidity that he was not asked to
show credentials, of course——”
“And you faced death,” said the Governor, “became fugitive, allowed
people to call you despicable in order to be of service to the state? A
worthy caballero!”
“That was not all the object,” the caballero replied, laughing lightly
and looking at Anita again. “I had heard of Fly-by-Night’s boast, you
see; and when they took me for him I thought it would be a lark to
approach the señorita in that guise. I was coming to wed her at her
father’s request, you see. We were as good as wed, you might say,
yet never had seen each other. How much better—I am sure you will
understand, excellency—to win her true love under another name, to
be sure she was wedding the man, not the distant relative her father
had commanded her to wed.
“You see my point? And, if I could win her love as Captain Fly-by-
Night, the man she despised—if I could turn her hatred and
repugnance to affection, would I not be sure it was real love?”
“Hah!” the Governor cried, and looked at the blushing girl.
“It was done,” the caballero said. “And—thank the saints, it has been
proved the love is real!”
And then he crossed before them, and Anita, seeing him coming, got
upon her feet, and he took her into his arms and kissed her there
before them all.
A padre lifted hand in blessing; Señora Vallejo smiled; the Governor
nodded in approval; Gonzales, good pirate, swore softly under his
breath at this display of young affection; and Sergeant Cassara
slapped his thigh and cried unto the sky.
“Dios! So I cannot slay him after all? He is a friend of the Governor,
eh? Not Fly-by-Night, but Rojerio Rocha, a proper fellow! I shall go
mad! Better, I shall go to sleep for the saints know I need it!”
He threw himself on the ground against the wall; and presently he
snored.
And so the tale ends as it began, with Sergeant Carlos Cassara.

THE END
 Transcriber’s Notes
1. Spelling, punctuation, and hyphenation were corrected for consistency.
Archaic spelling was retained.
2. Quotation marks were added for clarity when the placement was obvious.
3. Simple typographical errors were corrected.
4. Duplicate title removed from p. 9.
5. New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public
domain.
 *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTAIN FLY-BY-
NIGHT ***

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