The Queen of the Savannah: A Story of the Mexican WarAimard, Gustave
History
The Queen of the Savannah: A Story of the Mexican War
Aimard, Gustave
Mexico -- History -- Wars of Independence, 1810-1821 -- Fiction
All at once, on the side where the walls were the highest and rose
perpendicularly over the precipice, a door was cautiously opened.
Through its position over the precipice, this door could not be seen by
the sentries, and the three persons who stepped through it one after
the other, ran no risk of being perceived. These persons, who seemed
perfectly acquainted with the dangerous road they were entering on,
carefully closed the gate after them, and clinging to some projections
probably arranged to facilitate the descent, descended the cliff
without any hesitation, stopping at times to draw breath, or look
inquiringly around them. The descent was a long one, for it could not
be performed directly, and the bold adventurers were compelled to keep
to their left, and often to march parallel with the gulf; but at length
they reached the bottom without accident, and took a few minutes' rest
by the side of a stream which ran silently at their feet.
Nearly opposite the spot where the bold adventurers reached the bottom
of the abyss, was the yawning mouth of a natural cavern. After taking
a parting glance above their heads, as if to feel certain that no one
had noticed their departure, and that the same tranquillity continued
to prevail in the hacienda, they disappeared in the grotto. Then the
person who marched last took off his zarapé, which he held before the
opening, while one of his companions struck a light and lit a torch of
ocote wood, a considerable pile of which was collected in a hole of the
rock. By the glare of the torch, which suddenly cast a reddish tinge
over the interior of the grotto, a spy would have easily recognized in
these three persons, Doña Emilia, her daughter, and Don Melchior.
When Doña Emilia, who held the torch, had gone far enough to prevent
the light from being seen from the outside, Don Melchior pulled down
his zarapé, and went off in his turn. The grotto had such numerous
and sudden turns, that any stranger whom chance conducted to it would
have been infallibly lost, and Doña Emilia and her companions must
have known it for a long time when they ventured to enter it. After
walking for about ten minutes, our friends reached a species of hall,
on to which six passages opened, which ran in diametrically opposite
directions probably for a great distance. This hall formed a rather
large room, in which were several clumsily made equipales, a rickety
table, and a sort of rack fastened to the wall, and filled with weapons
of every description, lances, daggers, machetes, pistols, and muskets,
with bullet bags of tapir hide and buffalo horns full of powder.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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