Cigars would not avail us this time! His men were tired and he could give no escort.
Night soon fell dark and coldly around us. In these elevated regions the air is cold and nipping; but we dared not put down our coach curtains for fear of an attack. We therefore donned our cloaks and overcoats, and laid our guns and pistols on the window-frames. John, the old gray hero, was on the look-out, with his blunderbuss, from the box, and the driver promised to have an eye to windward.
Thus we jolted on again, at times almost stalled, and, in sudden smooth descents, swinging along with a rapidity in the dark and moonless night, that seemed to threaten our destruction among the rocks. Six, seven, eight, and half-past eight o'clock passed, and no robbers appeared, though there had been several false alarms. The road became worse and worse, the coach heaving over the stones like a ship in a head sea, and the driver being obliged to descend from his seat and feel for the track. We saw lights passing over the heath in many places, and it was surmised they might be the signal lights of robbers. After due consultation, it was determined that they were! As we approached them they proved to be fire-flies! We felt for our percussion-caps and found them all right, and, at that moment, the coach was brought to a dead halt in the blackest looking ravine imaginable.
"A mighty bad road, sir," said John, from the box, cocking his blunderbuss. Its click was ominous, and we were at once on the alert. "There is something black—on horseback—just ahead of us," added he. A whistle among the bushes. Crack went the whip unmercifully over the mules, and at ten paces in advance, up rose "the something black" and away trotted three cows!
I confess to a little anxiety as I cocked my gun after John spoke of the "something black" It is enough to make one a little nervous, boxed up with nine in a coach, on a dark night, on a bad road, to be shot at by "something black." But when the danger turns out to be a peaceful cow, one feels quite as ridiculous as he had before felt nervous. As we had indulged in enough of that sort of excitement, I uncocked my gun, put the muzzle out of the window, and, keeping a finger on the trigger, resigned myself to a nap in the corner.
Jolts, pitches, tosses, nothing, woke me, until a rough voice bellowed in my ear: "There they are!" I was aroused in a moment, and moving my thumb to cock my gun, I found myself disarmed. The coach was at a halt, and strange voices and lights were around it.
It was a minute before I could shake off the oppression of my deep slumber and found that my neighbor had quietly pilfered my gun during my sleep, and that we were waiting while the guard at the garita of Xalapa examined our way-bill!
In a few moments we were again en route and at half-past nine rolled into the court-yard of an excellent inn at Xalapa, where a good meal that served both for dinner and supper, seasoned the joke of my dextrous robbery.
