The Curse of Capistrano

part. “This Señor Zorro is abroad, and the soldiers after him.” 
“We are aware of that.” 
“There may be a battle, or a series of raids, since it is whispered that now Señor Zorro has a 
band of cutthroats with him, and my hacienda is off by itself and would be at the mercy of the 
thief.” 
“Ah! And so you bring your family to the pueblo until the matter is at an end?” 
“I had not thought of doing so, but this morning Don Diego Vega sent out to me a request that 
I bring my family here and make use of his house for the time being. Don Diego has gone to his 
hacienda, but will return within a short time.” 
The eyes of those who heard opened a bit at that, but Don Carlos pretended not to notice, and 
went on sipping his wine. 
“Don Diego was out to visit me yesterday morning,” he continued. “We renewed old times. 
And my hacienda had a visit from this Señor Zorro last night, as doubtless you have heard, and 
Don Diego, learning of it, galloped out again, fearing we had met with disaster.” 
“Twice in one day!” gasped one of those who heard. 
“I have said it, señor.” 
“You—that is—your daughter is very beautiful, is she not, Don Carlos Pulido? And seventeen, is 
she not—about?” 
“Eighteen, señor. She is called beautiful, I believe,” Don Carlos admitted. 
Those around him glanced at one another. They had the solution now. Don Diego Vega was 
seeking to wed Señorita Lolita Pulido. That meant that Pulido’s fortunes would soon be at the 
flood again, and that he might feel called upon to remember his friends and look askance at those 
who had not stood by him. 
So now, they crowded forward, alert to do him honor, and asked concerning crops and the 
increase of his herds and flocks, and whether the bees were doing as well as usual, and did he think 
the olives were excellent this year. 
Don Carlos appeared to take it all as a matter of course. He accepted the wine they bought, 
and purchased himself, and the fat landlord darted about doing their bidding and trying to 
compute the day’s profits in his head, which was a hopeless task for him. 

---

When Don Carlos left the inn at dusk, several of them followed him to the door, and two of 
the more influential walked with him across the plaza to the door of Don Diego’s house. One of 
these begged that Don Carlos and his wife visit his house that evening for music and talk, and Don 
Carlos graciously accepted the invitation. 
Doña Catalina had been watching from a window, and her face was beaming when she met her 
husband at the door. 
“Everything goes well,” he said. “They have met me with open arms. And I have accepted an 
invitation to visit tonight.” 
“But Lolita?” Doña Catalina protested. 
“She must remain here, of course. Will it not be all right? There are half a hundred servants 
about. And I have accepted the invitation, my dear.” 
Such a chance to win favor again could not be disregarded, of course, and so Lolita was made 
acquainted with the arrangement. She was to remain in the great living-room, reading a volume of 
verse she had found there, and if she grew sleepy she was to retire to a certain chamber. The 
servants would guard her, and the 
despensero would look after her wishes personally. 
Don Carlos and his wife went to make their evening visit, being lighted across the plaza by half 
a dozen natives who held torches in their hands, for the night was without a moon, and rain was 
threatening again. 
Señorita Lolita curled up on a couch, the volume of verse in her lap, and began to read. Each 
verse treated of love, romance, passion. She marveled that Don Diego would read such, being so 
lifeless himself, but the volume showed that it had been much handled. She sprang from the couch 
to look at other books on a bench not far away. And her amazement increased. 
Volume after volume of poets who sang of love; volumes that had to do with horsemanship; 
books that had been written at the dictation of masters of fence; tales of great generals and warriors 
were there. 
Surely these volumes were not for a man of Don Diego’s blood, she told herself. And then she 
thought that perhaps he reveled in them, though not in the manner of life they preached. Don 
Diego was something of a puzzle, she told herself for the hundredth time; and she went back and 
began reading the poetry again. 
Then Captain Ramón hammered at the front door. 
CHAPTER XIII 
Love Comes Swiftly 
THE 
DESPENSERO HURRIED to open it. 
“I regret that Don Diego is not at home, señor,” he said. “He has gone to his hacienda.” 
“I know as much. Don Carlos and wife and daughter are here, are they not?” 
“Don Carlos and his wife are out on a visit this evening, señor.” 
“The señorita—” 
“Is here, of course.” 
“In that case, I shall pay my respects to the señorita,” Captain Ramón said. 
“Señor! Pardon me, but the little lady is alone.” 
“Am I not a proper man?” the captain demanded. 
“It—it is scarcely right for her to receive the visit of a gentleman when her duenna is not 
present.” 
“Who are you to speak to me of the proprieties?” Captain Ramón demanded. “Out of my 

---

way, scum! Cross me and you shall be punished. I know things concerning you.” 
The face of the 
despensero went white at that, for the captain spoke the truth and, at a word, 
could cause him considerable trouble and mayhap a term in the 
cárcel. Yet he knew what was 
right. 
“But, señor—” he protested. 
Captain Ramón thrust him aside with his left arm and stalked into the big living-room. Lolita 
sprang up in alarm when she saw him standing before her. 
“Ah, señorita, I trust that I did not startle you,” he said. “I regret that your parents are absent, 
yet I must have a few words with you. This servant would deny me entrance, but I imagine you 
have nought to fear from a man with one wounded arm.” 
“It—it is scarcely proper, is it, señor?” the girl asked, a bit frightened. 
“I feel sure no harm can come of it,” he said. 
He went across the room and sat down on one end of the couch and admired her beauty 
frankly. The 
despensero hovered near. 
“Go to your kitchen, fellow!” Captain Ramón commanded. 
“No; allow him to remain,” Lolita begged. “My father commanded it, and he courts trouble if 
he leaves.” 
“And if he remains. Go, fellow!” 
The servant went. 
Captain Ramón turned toward the girl again, and smiled upon her. He flattered himself that he 
knew women—they loved to see a man show mastery over other men. 
“More beautiful than ever, señorita,” he said in a purring voice. “I really am glad to find you 
thus alone, for there is something I would say to you.” 
“What can that be, señor?” 
“Last night at your father’s hacienda I asked his permission to pay my addresses to you. Your 
beauty has inflamed my heart, señorita, and I would have you for my wife. Your father consented, 
except that he said Don Diego Vega also had received permission. So it appears that it lies between 
Don Diego and myself.” 
“Should you speak of it, señor?” she asked. 
“Certainly Don Diego Vega is not the man for you,” he went on. “Has he courage, spirit? Is he 
not a laughingstock because of his weakness?” 
“You speak ill of him in his own house?” the señorita asked, her eyes flashing. 
“I speak the truth, señorita. I would have your favor. Can you not look upon me with kind-
ness? Can you not give me hope that I may win your heart and hand?” 
“Captain Ramón, all this is unworthy,” she said. “It is not the proper manner, and you know it. 
I beg you to leave me now.” 
“I await your answer, señorita.” 
Her outraged pride rose up at that. Why could she not be wooed as other señoritas, in the 
proper fashion? Why was this man so bold in his words? Why did he disregard the conventions? 
“You must leave me,” she said firmly. “This is all wrong, and you are aware of it. Would you 
make my name a byword, Captain Ramón? Suppose somebody was to come and find us like this—
alone?” 
“Nobody will come, señorita. Can you not give me an answer?” 
“No!” she cried, starting to get to her feet. “It is not right that you should ask it. My father, I 
assure you, shall hear of this visit!” 
“Your father,” he sneered. “A man who has the ill will of the governor. A man who is being 
plucked because he possessed no political sense. I fear not your father. He should be proud of the 

---

fact that Captain Ramón looks at his daughter.” 
“Señor!” 
“Do not run away,” he said, clutching her hand. “I have done you the honor to ask you to be 
my wife—” 
“Done me the honor!” she cried angrily, and almost in tears. “It is the man who is done the 
honor when a woman accepts him.” 
“I like you when you rage,” he observed. “Sit down again—beside me here. And now give me 
your answer.” 
“Señor!” 
“You will wed me, of course. I shall intercede with the governor for your father and get a part 
of his estate restored. I shall take you to San Francisco de Asis, to the governor’s house, where you 
will be admired by persons of rank.” 
“Señor! Let me go!” 
“My answer, señorita! You have held me off enough.” 
She wrenched away from him, confronted him with blazing eyes, her tiny hands clenched at 
her sides. 
“Wed with you?” she cried. “Rather would I remain a maid all my life, rather would I wed with 
a native, rather would I die than wed with you! I wed a caballero, a gentleman, or no man! And I 
cannot say that you are such!” 
“Pretty words from the daughter of a man who is about ruined.” 
“Ruin would not change the blood of the Pulidos, señor. I doubt whether you understand that, 
evidently having ill blood yourself. Don Diego shall hear of this. He is my father’s friend—” 
“And you would wed the rich Don Diego, eh, and straighten out your father’s affairs? You 
would not wed an honorable soldier, but would sell yourself—” 
“Señor!” she shrieked. 
This was beyond endurance. She was alone, there was nobody near to resent the insult. So her 
blood called upon her to avenge it herself. 
Like a flash of lightning her hand went forward, and came against Captain Ramón’s cheek with 
a crack. Then she sprang backward, but he grasped her by an arm and drew her toward him. 
“I shall take a kiss to pay for that,” he said. “Such a tiny bit of womanhood can be handled with 
one arm, thank the saints.” 
She fought him, striking and scratching at his breast, for she could not reach his face. But he 
only laughed at her, and held her tighter until she was almost spent and breathless, and finally he 
threw back her head and looked down into her eyes. 
“A kiss in payment, señorita,” he said. “It will be a pleasure to tame such a wild one.” 
She tried to fight again, but could not. She called upon the saints to aid her. And Captain 
Ramón laughed more and bent his head, and his lips came close to hers. 
But he never claimed the kiss. She started to wrench away from him again, and he was forced 
to strengthen his arm and pull her forward. And from a corner of the room there came a voice that 
was at once deep and stern. 
“One moment, señor!” it said. 
Captain Ramón released the girl and whirled on one heel. He blinked his eyes to pierce the 
gloom of the corner; he heard Señorita Lolita give a glad cry. 
Then Captain Ramón, disregarding the presence of the lady, cursed, once and loudly, for 
Señor Zorro stood before him. 
He did not pretend to know how the highwayman had entered the house; he did not stop to 
think of it. He realized that he was without a blade at his side, and that he could not use it had he 

---

one, because of his wounded shoulder. And Señor Zorro was walking toward him from the corner. 
“Outlaw I may be, but I respect women,” the Curse of Capistrano said. “And you, an officer of 
the army, do not, it appears. What are you doing here, Captain Ramón?” 
“And what do you here?” 
“I heard a lady’s scream, which is warrant enough for caballero to enter any place, señor. It 
appears to me that you have broken all the conventions.” 
“Perhaps the lady has broken them also.” 
“Señor!” roared the highwayman. “Another thought like that and I cut you down where you 
stand, though you are a wounded man! How shall I punish you?” 
“
Despensero! Natives!” the captain shouted suddenly. “Here is Señor Zorro! A reward if you 
take him!” The masked man laughed. “’Twill do you small good to call for help,” he said. “Spend 
your breath in saying your prayers, rather.” 
“You do well to threaten a wounded man.” 
“You deserve death, señor, but I suppose I must allow you to escape that. But you will go 
down upon your knees and apologize to this señorita. And then you will go from this house, slink 
from it like the cur you are, and keep your mouth closed regarding what has transpired here. If 
you do not, I promise to soil my blade with your life’s blood.” 
“Ha!” 
“On your knees, señor, and instantly!” Señor Zorro commanded. “I have no time to waste in 
waiting.” 
“I am an officer—” 
“On your knees!” commanded Señor Zorro again, in a terrible voice. He sprang forward and 
grasped Captain Ramón by his well shoulder, and threw him to the floor. 
“Quickly, poltroon! Tell the señorita that you humbly beg her pardon—which she will not 
grant, of course, since you are beneath speaking to—and that you will not annoy her again. Say it, 
or, by the saints, you have made your last speech!” 
Captain Ramón said it. And then Señor Zorro grasped him by the neck and lifted him, and 
propelled him to the door and hurled him into the darkness. And had his boots not been soft, 
Captain Ramón would have been injured more deeply, both in feelings and anatomy. 
Señor Zorro closed the door as the 
despensero came running into the room, to stare in fright 
at the masked man. 
“Señorita, I trust that I have been of service,” the highwayman said. “That scoundrel will not 
bother you further, else he feels the sting of my blade again.” 
“Oh, thank you, señor—thank you!” she cried. “I shall tell my father this good deed you have 
done. 
Despensero, get him wine!” 
There was nought for the butler to do except obey, since she had voiced the order, and he 
hurried from the room, pondering on the times and the manners. 
Señorita Lolita stepped to the man’s side. 
“Señor,” she breathed, “you saved me from insult. You saved me from the pollution of that 
man’s lips. Señor, though you deem me unmaidenly, I offer you freely the kiss he would have 
taken.” 
She put up her face and closed her eyes. 
“And I shall not look when you raise your mask,” she said. 
“It were too much, señorita,” he said. “Your hand—but not your lips.” 
“You shame me, señor. I was bold to offer it, and you have refused.” 
“You shall feel no shame,” he said. 
He bent swiftly, raised the bottom of his mask, and touched lightly her lips with his. 

---

“Ah, señorita,” he said. “I would I were an honest man and could claim you openly. My heart 
is filled with love of you.” 
“And mine with love of you.” 
“This is madness. None must know.” 
“I would not fear to tell the world, señor.” 
“Your father and his fortunes! Don Diego!” 
“I love you, señor.” 
“Your chance to be a great lady! Do you think I did not know Don Diego was the man you 
meant when we spoke in your father’s patio? This is a whim, señorita.” 
“It is love, señor, whether anything comes of it or not. And a Pulido does not love twice.” 
“What possibly could come of it but distress?” 
“We shall see. God is good.” 
“It is madness—” 
“Sweet madness, señor.” 
He clasped her to him and bent his head again, and again she closed her eyes and took his 
kiss, only this time the kiss was longer. She made no effort to see his face. 
“I may be ugly,” he said. 
“But I love you.” 
“Disfigured, señorita—” 
“Still I love you.” 
“What hope can we have?” 
“Go, señor, before my parents return. I shall say nothing except that you saved me from insult 
and then went your way again. They will think that you came to rob Don Diego. And turn honest, 
señor, for my sake. Turn honest, I say, and claim me. No man knows your face, and if you take off 
your mask forever, none ever will know your guilt. It is not as if you were an ordinary thief. I know 
why you have stolen—to avenge the helpless, to punish cruel politicians, to aid the oppressed. I 
know that you have given what you have stolen to the poor. Oh, señor!” 
“But my task is not yet done, señorita, and I feel called upon to finish it.” 
“Then finish it, and may the saints guard you, as I feel sure they will. And when it is finished, 
come back to me. I shall know you in whatever garb you come.” 
“Nor shall I wait that long, señorita. I shall see you often. I could not exist else.” 
“Guard yourself.” 
“I shall in truth, now, since I have double reason. Life never was so sweet as now.” 
He backed away from her slowly. He turned and glanced toward a window near at hand. 
“I must go,” he said. “I cannot wait for the wine.” 
“That was but a subterfuge so that we could be alone,” she confessed. 
“Until the next time, señorita, and may it not be long.” 
“On guard, señor!” 
“Always, loved one. Señorita
, adios!” 
Again their eyes met, and then he waved his hand at her, gathered his cloak close about his 
body, darted to the window, and went through it. The darkness outside swallowed him. 

---

CHAPTER XIV 
Captain Ramón Writes a Letter
PICKING HIMSELF UP OUT OF THE dust before Don Diego Vega’s door, Captain Ramón 
darted through the darkness to the footpath that ran up the slope toward the presidio. 
His blood was aflame with rage, his face was purple with wrath. There remained at the presidio 
no more than half a dozen soldiers, for the greater part of the garrison had gone with Sergeant 
Gonzales, and of these half-dozen four were on the sick list and two were necessary as guards. 
So Captain Ramón could not send men down to the Vega house in an effort to effect a capture 
of the highwayman; moreover, he decided that Señor Zorro would not remain there more than a 
few minutes, but would mount his horse and ride away, for the highwayman had a name for not 
resting long in one place. 
Besides, Captain Ramón had no wish to let it become known that this Señor Zorro had met 
him a second time, and had treated him much like a peon. Could he give out the information that 
he had insulted a señorita, and that Señor Zorro had punished him because of it, that Señor Zorro 
had caused him to get down upon his knees and apologize and then had kicked him through the 
front door like a dog? 
The captain decided it were better to say nothing of the occurrence. He supposed that Señorita 
Lolita would tell her parents, and that the 
despensero would give testimony, but he doubted 
whether Don Carlos would do anything about it. Don Carlos would think twice before affronting 
an officer of the army, being the recipient already of the governor’s frowns. Ramón only hoped 
that Don Diego would not learn much of the happening, for if a Vega raised hand against him, the 
captain would have difficulty maintaining his position. 
Pacing the floor of his office, Captain Ramón allowed his wrath to grow, and thought on these 
things and many others. He had kept abreast of the times, and he knew that the governor and the 
men about him were sorely in need of more funds to waste in riotous living. They had plucked 
those men of wealth against whom there was the faintest breath of suspicion, and they would 
welcome a new victim. 
Might not the captain suggest one, and at the same time strengthen his own position with the 
governor? Would the captain dare hint that perhaps the Vega family was wavering in its loyalty to 
the governor? 
At least he could do one thing, he decided. He could have his revenge for the flouting the 
daughter of Don Carlos Pulido had given him. 
Captain Ramón grinned despite his wrath as the thought came to him. He called for writing-
materials, and informed one of his well men that he should prepare for a journey, being about to 
be named for a courier’s job. 
Ramón paced the floor for some minutes more, thinking on the matter and trying to decide 
just how to word the epistle he intended writing. And finally he sat down before the long table and 
addressed his message to his excellency the governor, at his mansion in San Francisco de Asis. 
This is what he wrote: 
Your intelligences regarding this highwayman, Señor Zorro, as he is known, have come to hand. I regret that I am 
unable at this writing to report the rogue’s capture, but I trust that you will be lenient with me in the matter, since 
circumstances are somewhat unusual. 
I have the greater part of my force in pursuit of the fellow, with orders to get him in person or to fetch me his 
corpse. But this Señor Zorro does not fight alone. He is being given succor at certain places in the neighborhood, 
allowed to remain in hiding when necessary, given food and drink and, no doubt, fresh horses. 
Within the past day he visited the 
hacienda
of Don Carlos Pulido, a 
caballero
known to be hostile to your 

---

excellency. I sent men there and went myself. While my soldiers took up his trail the man came from a closet in the 
living-room at Don Carlos’s house and attacked me treacherously. He wounded me in the right shoulder, but I fought 
him off until he became frightened and dashed away, making his escape. I may mention that I was hindered somewhat 
by this Don Carlos in pursuing the man. Also, when I arrived at the 
hacienda
, indications were that the man had been 
eating his evening meal there. 
The Pulido hacienda is an excellent place for such a man to hide, being somewhat off the main highway. I fear 
that Señor Zorro makes it his headquarters when he is in this vicinity; and I await your instructions in the matter. I may 
add that Don Carlos scarcely treated me with respect while I was in his presence, and that his daughter, the Señorita 
Lolita, scarcely could keep from showing her admiration of this highwayman and from sneering at the efforts of the 
soldiery to capture him. 
There are also indications of a famous and wealthy family of this neighborhood wavering in loyalty to your 
excellency, but you will appreciate the fact that I cannot write of such a thing in a missive sent you by courier. 
With deep respect, 
Ramón, Comandante and Captain, Presidio
, 
Reina de Los Angeles. 
Ramón grinned again as he finished the letter. That last paragraph, he knew, would get the 
governor guessing. The Vega family was about the only famous and wealthy one that would fit the 
description. As for the Pulidos, Captain Ramón imagined what would happen to them. The 
governor would not hesitate to deal out punishment, and perhaps the Señorita Lolita would find 
herself without protection, and in no position to reject the advances of a captain of the army. 
Now Ramón addressed himself to the task of making a second copy of the letter, intending to 
send one by his courier and preserve the other for his files, in case something came up and he 
wished to refer to it. 
Having finished the copy, he folded the original and sealed it, carried it to the soldiers’ 
lounging-room, and gave it to the man he had selected as courier. The soldier saluted, hurried out 
to his horse, and rode furiously toward the north, toward San Fernando and Santa Barbara, and on 
to San Francisco de Asis, with the orders ringing in his ears that he should make all haste and get a 
change of horses at every mission and pueblo in the name of his excellency. 
Ramón returned to his office and poured out a measure of wine, and began reading over the 
copy of the letter. He half wished that he had made it stronger, yet he knew that it were better to 
make it mild, for then the governor would not think he was exaggerating. 
He stopped reading now and then to curse the name of Señor Zorro, and frequently he 
reflected on the beauty and grace of the Señorita Lolita and told himself she should be punished 
for the manner in which she had treated him. 
He supposed that Señor Zorro was miles away by this time, and putting more miles between 
himself and Reina de Los Angeles; but he was mistaken in that. For the Curse of Capistrano, as the 
soldiers called him, had not hurried away after leaving the house of Don Diego Vega. 
CHAPTER XV 
At the Presidio 
SEÑOR ZORRO HAD GONE a short distance through the darkness to where he had left his 
horse in the rear of a native’s hut, and there he had stood, thinking of the love that had come to 
him. 
Presently he chuckled as if well pleased, then mounted and rode slowly toward the path that 
led to the presidio. He heard a horseman galloping away from the place and thought Captain 
Ramón had sent a man to call back Sergeant Gonzales and the troopers and put them on the 
fresher trail. 

---

Señor Zorro knew how affairs stood at the presidio, knew to a man how many of the soldiery 
were there, and that four were ill with a fever, and that there was but one well man now besides the 
captain since one had ridden away. 
He laughed again and made his horse climb the slope slowly so as to make little noise. In the 
rear of the presidio building he dismounted and allowed the reins to drag on the ground, knowing 
that the animal would not move from the spot. 
Now he crept through the darkness to the wall of the building and made his way around it 
carefully until he came to a window. He raised himself on a pile of adobe bricks and peered inside. 
It was Captain Ramón’s office into which he looked. He saw the comandante sitting before a 
table reading a letter which, it appeared, he had just finished writing. Captain Ramón was talking to 
himself, as does many an evil man. 
“That will cause consternation for the pretty señorita,” he was saying. “That will teach her not 
to flaunt an officer of his excellency’s forces. When her father is in the 
cárcel charged with high 
treason, and his estates have been taken away, then perhaps she will listen to what I have to say.” 
Señor Zorro had no difficulty in distinguishing the words. He guessed instantly that Captain 
Ramón had planned a revenge, that he contemplated mischief toward the Pulidos. Beneath his 
mask the face of Señor Zorro grew black with rage. 
He got down from the pile of adobe bricks and slipped on along the wall until he came to the 
corner of the building. In a socket at the side of the front door a torch was burning, and the only 
able-bodied man left in the garrison was pacing back and forth before the doorway, a pistol in his 
belt and a blade at his side. 
Señor Zorro noted the length of the man’s pacing. He judged the distance accurately, and just 
as the man turned his back to resume his march the highwayman sprang. 
His hands closed around the soldier’s throat as his knees struck the man in the back. Instantly 
they were upon the ground, the surprised trooper now doing his best to put up a fight. But Señor 
Zorro, knowing that a bit of noise might mean disaster for him, silenced the man by striking him 
on the temple with the heavy butt of his pistol. 
He pulled the unconscious soldier back into the shadows, gagged him with a strip torn from 
the end of his serape, and bound his hands and feet with other strips. Then he drew his cloak 
about him, looked to his pistol, listened a moment to be sure the short fight with the soldier had 
not attracted the attention of any inside the building, and slipped once more toward the door. 
He was inside in an instant. Before him was the big lounging-room with its hard dirt floor. 
Here were some long tables and bunks and wine mugs and harness and saddles and bridles. Señor 
Zorro gave it but a glance to assure himself that no man was there, and walked swiftly and almost 
silently across to the door that opened into the office of the comandante. 
He made sure that his pistol was ready for instant use, and then threw the door open boldly. 
Captain Ramón was seated with his back toward it, and now he whirled around in his chair with a 
snarl on his lips, thinking one of his men had entered without the preliminary of knocking, and 
ready to rebuke the man. 
“Not a sound, señor,” the highwayman warned. “You die if as much as a gasp escapes your 
lips.” 
He kept his eyes on those of the comandante, closed the door behind him, and advanced into 
the room. He walked forward slowly, without speaking, the pistol held ready in front of him. 
Captain Ramón had his hands on the table before him, and his face had gone white. 
“This visit is necessary, señor, I believe,” Señor Zorro said. “I have not made it because I 
admire the beauty of your face.” 
“What do you here?” the captain asked, disregarding the order to make no sound, yet 

---

speaking in a tone scarcely above a whisper. 
“I happened to look in at the window, señor. I saw an epistle before you on the table, and I 
heard you speak. ’Tis a bad thing for a man to talk to himself. Had you remained silent I might 
have gone on about my business. As it is—” 
“Well, señor?” the captain asked, with a bit of his old arrogance returning to him. 
“I have a mind to read that letter before you.” 
“Does my military business interest you that much?” 
“As to that, we shall say nothing, señor. Kindly remove your hands from the table, but do not 
reach toward the pistol at your side unless you wish to die the death instantly. It would not grieve 
me to have to send your soul into the hereafter.” 
The comandante did as he had been directed, and Señor Zorro went forward cautiously and 
snatched up the letter. Then he retreated a few paces again, still watching the man before him. 
“I am going to read this,” he said, “but I warn you that I shall watch you closely, also. Do not 
make a move, señor, unless it is your wish to visit your ancestors.” 
He read swiftly, and when he had finished he looked the comandante straight in the eyes for 
some time without speaking, and his own eyes were glittering malevolently through his mask. 
Captain Ramón began to feel more uncomfortable. 
Señor Zorro stepped across to the table, still watching the other, and held the letter to the 
flame of a candle. It caught fire, blazed, presently dropped to the floor, a bit of ash. Señor Zorro 
put one foot upon it 
“The letter will not be delivered,” he said. “So you fight women, do you, señor? A brave officer 
and an ornament to his excellency’s forces! I doubt not he would grant you promotion if he knew 
of this. You insult a señorita because her father, for the time being, is not friendly with those in 
power, and because she repulses you as you deserve, you set about to cause trouble for the 
members of her family. Truly, it is a worthy deed.” 
He took a step closer and bent forward, still holding the pistol ready before him. 
“Let me not hear of you sending any letter similar to the one I have just destroyed,” he said. “I 
regret at the present time that you are unable to stand before me and cross blades. It would be an 
insult to my sword to run you through, yet would I do it to rid the world of such a fellow.” 
“You speak bold words to a wounded man.” 
“No doubt the wound will heal, señor. And I shall keep myself informed regarding it. And 
when it has healed and you have back your strength, I shall take the trouble to hunt you up, and 
call you to account for what you have attempted doing this night. Let that be understood between 
us.” 
Again their eyes blazed, each man’s into those of the other, and Señor Zorro stepped 
backward and drew his cloak closer about him. To their ears there came suddenly a jangling of 
harness, the tramp of horses’ feet, the raucous voice of Sergeant Pedro Gonzales. 
“Do not dismount!” the sergeant was crying to his men at the door. “I but make report, and 
then we go on after the rogue! There shall be no rest until we take him!” 
Señor Zorro glanced quickly around the room, for he knew escape by the entrance was cut off 
now. Captain Ramón’s eyes flashed with keen anticipation. 
“Ho, Gonzales!” he shrieked before Zorro could warn him against it. “To the rescue, 
Gonzales! Señor Zorro is here!” 
And then he looked at the highwayman defiantly, as if telling him to do his worst 
But Señor Zorro had no desire to fire his pistol and let out the captain’s lifeblood, it appeared, 
preferring to save him for the blade when his shoulder should have healed. 
“Remain where you are!” he commanded, and darted toward the nearest window. 

---

The big sergeant had heard, however. He called upon his men to follow, and rushed across the 
large room to the door of the office and threw it open. A bellow of rage escaped him as he saw the 
masked man standing beside the table, and saw the comandante sitting before it with his hands 
spread out before him. 
“By the saints, we have him!” Gonzales cried. “In with you, troopers! Guard the doors! Some 
look to the windows!” 
Señor Zorro had transferred his pistol to his left hand, and had whipped out his blade. Now he 
swept it forward and sidewise, and the candles were struck from the table. Zorro put his foot upon 
the only one that remained lighted and extinguished it in that manner—and the room was in 
darkness. 
“Lights! Bring a torch!” Gonzales shrieked. 
Señor Zorro sprang aside, against the wall, and made his way around it rapidly while Gonzales 
and two other men sprang into the room, and one remained guarding the door; while in the other 
room several ran to get a torch, and managed to get in one another’s way. 
The man with the torch came rushing through the door finally, and he shrieked and went 
down with a sword blade through his breast, and the torch fell to the floor and was extinguished. 
And then, before the sergeant could reach the spot, Señor Zorro was back in the darkness again 
and could not be found. 
Gonzales was roaring his curses now and searching for the man he wished to slay, and the 
captain was crying to him to be careful and not put his blade through a trooper by mistake. The 
other men were storming around; in the other room one came with a second torch. 
Zorro’s pistol spoke, and the torch was shot from the man’s hand. The highwayman sprang 
forward and stamped upon it, putting it out, and again retreated to the darkness, changing his 
position rapidly, listening for the deep breathing that would tell him the exact location of his vari-
ous foes. 
“Catch the rogue!” the comandante was shrieking. “Can one man thus make fools of the lot of 
you?” 
Then he ceased to speak, for Señor Zorro had grasped him from behind and shut off his wind, 
and now the highwayman’s voice rang out above the din. 
“Soldiers, I have your captain! I am going to carry him before me and back out the door. I am 
going to cross the other room and so reach the outside of the building. I have discharged one 
pistol, but I am holding its mate at the base of the captain’s brain. And when one of you attacks 
me, I fire, and you are without a captain.” 
The captain could feel cold steel at the back of his head, and he shrieked for the men to use 
caution. And Señor Zorro carried him to the doorway and backed out with the captain held in 
front of him, while Gonzales and the troopers followed as closely as they dared, watching every 
move, hoping for a chance to catch him unaware. 
He crossed the big lounging-room of the presidio and so came to the outside door. He was 
somewhat afraid of the men outside, for he knew that some of them had run around the building 
to guard the windows. The torch was still burning just outside the door, and Señor Zorro put up 
his hand and tore it down and extinguished it. But still there would be grave danger the moment he 
stepped out. 
Gonzales and the troopers were before him, spread out fan-fashion across the room, bending 
forward, waiting for a chance to get in a blow. Gonzales held a pistol in his hand—though he made 
out to despise the weapon—and was watching for an opportunity to shoot without endangering the 
life of his captain. 
“Back, señores!” the highwayman commanded now. “I would have more room in which to 

---

make my start. That is it—I thank you. Sergeant Gonzales, were not the odds so heavy, I might be 
tempted to play at fence with you and disarm you again.” 
“By the saints—” 
“Some other time, my sergeant. And now, señores, attention! It desolates me to say it, but I 
had only the one pistol. What the captain has been feeling all this time at the base of his brain is 
nought except a bridle buckle I picked up from the floor. Is it not a pretty jest? Señores
, adios!” 
Suddenly he whirled the captain forward, darted into the darkness, and started toward his 
horse with the whole pack at his heels and pistol flashes splitting the blackness of the night and 
bullets whistling by his head. His laughter came back to them on the stiffening breeze that blew in 
from the distant sea. 
CHAPTER XVI 
The Chase That Failed 
SEÑOR ZORRO CHARGED HIS HORSE DOWN the treacherous slope of the hill, where 
there was loose gravel and a misstep would spell disaster, and where the troopers were slow to 
follow. Sergeant Gonzales possessed courage enough, and some of the men followed him, while 
others galloped off to right and left, planning to intercept the fugitive when he reached the bottom 
and turned. 
Señor Zorro, however, was before them, and took the trail toward San Gabriel at a furious 
gallop, while the troopers dashed along behind, calling to one another, and now and then 
discharging a pistol with a great waste of powder and ball and no result so far as capturing or 
wounding the highwayman was concerned. 
Soon the moon came up. Señor Zorro had been anticipating that, and knew that it would make 
his escape more difficult. But his horse was fresh and strong, while those ridden by the troopers 
had covered many miles during the day, and so hope was not gone. 
Now he could be seen plainly by those who pursued, and he could hear Sergeant Gonzales 
crying upon his men to urge their beasts to the utmost and effect a capture. He glanced behind 
him as he rode, and observed that the troopers were scattering out in a long line, the stronger and 
fresher horses gaining on the others. 
So they rode for some five miles, the troopers holding the distance, but not making any gain, 
and Señor Zorro knew that soon their horses would weaken, and that the good steed he bestrode, 
which gave no signs of fatigue as yet, would outdistance them. Only one thing bothered him—he 
wanted to be traveling in the opposite direction. 
Here the hills rose abruptly on either side of the highway, and it was not possible for him to 
turn aside and make a great circle, nor were there any trails he could follow; and if he attempted to 
have his horse climb, he would have to make slow progress, and the troopers would come near 
enough to fire their pistols, and mayhap wound him. 
So he rode straight ahead, gaining a bit now, knowing that two miles farther up the valley there 
was a trail that swung off to the right, and that by following it he would come to higher ground and 
so could double back on his tracks. 
He had covered one of the two miles before he remembered that it had been noised abroad 
that a landslide had been caused by the recent torrential rain and had blocked this higher trail. So 
he could not use that even when he reached it; and now a bold thought came to his mind. 
As he topped a slight rise in the terrain, he glanced behind once more and saw that no two of 
the troopers were riding side by side. They were well scattered, and there was some distance 

---

between each two of them. It would help his plan. 
He dashed around a bend in the highway and pulled up his horse. He turned the animal’s 
head back toward whence he had come, and bent forward in the saddle to listen. When he could 
hear the hoofbeats of his nearest pursuer’s horse, he drew his blade, took a turn of the reins 
around his left wrist, and suddenly struck his beast in the flanks cruelly with his sharp rowels. 
The animal he rode was not used to such treatment, never having felt the spurs except when in 
a gallop and his master wished greater speed. Now he sprang forward like a thunderbolt, dashed 
around die curve like a wild stallion, and bore down upon the nearest of Señor Zorro’s foes. 
“Make way,” Señor Zorro cried. 
The first man gave ground readily, not sure that this was the highwayman coming back, and 
when he was sure of it he shrieked the intelligence to those behind, but they could not understand 
because of the clatter of hoofs on the hard road. 
Señor Zorro bore down upon the second man, clashed swords with him, and rode on. He 
dashed around another curve, and his horse struck another fairly, and hurled him from the 
roadway. Zorro swung at the fourth man, and missed him, and was glad that the fellow’s counter-
stroke missed as well. 
And now there was nought but the straight ribbon of road before him, and his galloping foes 
dotting it. Like a maniac he rode them through, cutting and slashing at them as he passed. Sergeant 
Gonzales, far in the rear because of his jaded mount, realized what was taking place and screeched 
at his men, and even as he screeched a thunderbolt seemed to strike his horse, unseating him. 
And then Señor Zorro was through them and gone, and they were following him again, a 
cursing sergeant at their head, but at a distance slightly greater than before. 
He allowed his horse to go somewhat slower now, since he could keep his distance, and rode 
to the first cross trail, into which he turned. He took to higher ground and looked back to see the 
pursuit streaming out over the hill, losing itself in the distance, but still determined. 
“It was an excellent trick,” Señor Zorro said to his horse. “But we cannot try it often!” 
He passed the hacienda of a man friendly to the governor, and a thought came to him—
Gonzales might stop there and obtain fresh horses for himself and his men. 
Nor was he mistaken in that. The troopers dashed up the driveway, and dogs howled a 
welcome. The master of the hacienda came to the door, holding a 
candelero high above his head. 
“We chase Señor Zorro!” Gonzales cried. “We require fresh steeds, in the name of the 
governor!” 
The servants were called, and Gonzales and his men hurried to the corral. Magnificent horses 
were there, horses almost as good as the one the highwayman rode, and all were fresh. The 
troopers quickly stripped saddles and bridles from their jaded mounts and put them on the fresh 
steeds, and then dashed for the trail again and took up the pursuit. Señor Zorro had gained quite a 
lead, but there was only one trail he could follow, and they might overtake him. 
Three miles away, on the crest of a small hill, there was a hacienda that had been presented to 
the mission of San Gabriel by a caballero who had died without leaving heirs. The governor had 
threatened to take it for the state, but so far had not done so, the Franciscans of San Gabriel having 
a name for protecting their property with determination. 
In charge of this hacienda was one Fray Felipe, a member of the order who was along in years, 
and under his direction the neophytes made the estate a profitable one, raising much livestock and 
sending to the storehouses great amounts of hides and tallow and honey and fruit, as well as wine. 
Gonzales knew the trail they were following led to this hacienda, and that just beyond it there 
was another trail that split, one part going to San Gabriel and the other returning to Reina de Los 
Angeles by a longer route. 

---

If Señor Zorro passed the hacienda, it stood to reason that he would take the trail that ran 
toward the pueblo, since, had he wished to go to San Gabriel, he would have continued along the 
highway in the first place, instead of turning and riding back through the troopers at some risk to 
himself. 
But he doubted whether Zorro would pass. For it was well known that the highwayman dealt 
harshly with those who prosecuted the 
frailes, and it was to be believed that every Franciscan held a 
friendly feeling for him and would give him aid. 
The troopers came within sight of the hacienda, and could see no light. Gonzales stopped 
them where the driveway started, and listened in vain for sounds of the man they pursued. He 
dismounted and inspected the dusty road, but could not tell whether a horseman had ridden 
toward the house recently. 
He issued quick orders, and the troop separated, half of the men remaining with their sergeant 
and the others scattering in such manner that they could surround the house, search the huts of the 
natives, and look at the great barns. 
Then Sergeant Gonzales rode straight up the driveway with half his men at his back, forced his 
horse up the steps to the veranda as a sign that he held this place in little respect, and knocked on 
the door with the hilt of his sword. 
CHAPTER XVII 
Sergeant Gonzales Meets a Friend 
PRESENTLY LIGHT SHOWED THROUGH THE windows, and after a time the door was 
thrown open. Fray Felipe stood framed in it, shading a candle with his hand—a giant of a man now 
past sixty, but one who had been a power in his time. 
“What is all this noise?” he demanded in his deep voice. “And why do you, son of evil, ride 
your horse on my veranda?” 
“We are chasing this pretty Señor Zorro, 
fray—this man they call the Curse of Capistrano,” 
Gonzales said. 
“And you expect to find him in this poor house?” 
“Stranger things have happened. Answer me, 
fray! Have you heard a horseman gallop past 
within a short time?” 
“I have not.” 
“And has this Señor Zorro paid you a visit recently?” 
“I do not know the man you mean.” 
“You have heard of him, doubtless?” 
“I have heard that he seeks to aid the oppressed, that he has punished those who have 
committed sacrilege, and that he has whipped those brutes who have beaten Indians.” 
“You are bold in your words, 
fray.” 
“It is my nature to speak the truth, soldier.” 
“You will be getting yourself into difficulties with the powers, my robed Franciscan.” 
“I fear no politician, soldier.” 
“I do not like the tone of your words, 
fray. I have half a mind to dismount and give you a taste 
of my whip!” 
“Señor!” Fray Felipe cried. “Take ten years off my shoulders and I can drag you in the dirt!” 
“That is a question for dispute. However, let us get to the subject of this visit. You have not 
seen a masked fiend who goes by the name of Señor Zorro?” 

---

“I have not, soldier.” 
“I shall have my men search your house.” 
“You accuse me of falsehood?” Fray Felipe cried. 
“My men must do something to pass the time, and they may as well search the house. You 
have nothing you wish to hide?” 
“Recognizing the identity of my guests, it might be well to hide the wine jugs,” Fray Felipe said. 
Sergeant Gonzales allowed an oath to escape him, and got down from his horse. The others 
dismounted, too, and the sergeant’s mount was taken off the veranda and left with the horse 
holder. 
Then Gonzales drew off his gloves, sheathed his sword, and stamped through the door with 
the others at his heels, as Fray Felipe fell back before him, protesting against the intrusion. 
From a couch in a far corner of the room there arose a man, who stepped into the circle of 
light cast by the 
candelero. 
“As I have eyes, it is my raucous friend!” he cried. 
“Don Diego! You here?” Gonzales gasped. 
“I have been at my hacienda looking over business affairs, and I rode over to spend the night 
with Fray Felipe, who has known me from babyhood. These turbulent times! I thought that here, 
at least, in this hacienda that is a bit out of the way and has a 
fray in charge of it, I could for a time 
rest in peace without hearing of violence and bloodshed. But it appears that I cannot. Is there no 
place in this country where a man may meditate and consult musicians and the poets?” 
“Meal mush and goat’s milk!” Gonzales cried. 
“Don Diego, you are my good friend and a true caballero. Tell me—have you seen this Señor 
Zorro tonight?” 
“I have not, my sergeant.” 
“You did not hear him ride past the hacienda?” 
“I did not. But a man could ride past and not be heard here in the house. Fray Felipe and I 
have been talking together, and were just about to retire when you came.” 
“Then the rogue has ridden on and taken the trail toward the pueblo!” the sergeant declared. 
“You had him in view?” Don Diego asked. 
“Ha! We were upon his heels, caballero! But at a turn in the highroad he made connection 
with some twenty men of his band. They rode at us and attempted to scatter us, but we drove them 
aside and kept on after Señor Zorro. We managed to separate him from his fellows and give 
chase.” 
“You say he has a score of men?” 
“Fully a score, as my men will testify. He is a thorn in the flesh of the soldiery, but I have sworn 
to get him! And when once we stand face to face—” 
“You will tell me of it afterward?” Don Diego asked, rubbing his hands together. “You will 
relate how you mocked him as he fought, how you played with him, pressed him back, and ran 
him through—” 
“By the saints! You make mock of me, caballero?” 
“’Tis but a jest, my sergeant. Now that we understand each other, perhaps Fray Felipe will give 
wine to you and your men. After such a chase, you must be fatigued.” 
“Wine would taste good,” the sergeant said. 
His corporal came in then to report that the huts and barns had been searched, and the corral 
also, and that no trace had been found of Señor Zorro or his horse. 
Fray Felipe served the wine, though he appeared to do it with some reluctance, and it was plain 
that he was but answering Don Diego’s request. 

---

“And what shall you do now, my sergeant?” Don Diego asked, after the wine had been brought 
to the table. “Are you always to go chasing around the country and creating a tumult?” 
“The rogue evidently has turned back toward Reina de Los Angeles, caballero,” the sergeant 
replied. “He thinks he is clever, no doubt, but I can understand his plan.” 
“Ha! And what is it?” 
“He will ride around Reina de Los Angeles and take the trail to San Luis Rey. He will rest for a 
time, no doubt, to throw off all pursuit, and then will continue to the vicinity of San Juan 
Capistrano. That is where he began this wild life of his, and for that reason the Curse of Capistrano 
he is called. Yes, he will go to Capistrano.” 
“And the soldiers?” Don Diego asked. 
“We shall follow him leisurely. We shall work toward the place, and when the news of his next 
outrage is made known, we shall be within a short distance of him instead of in the presidio at the 
pueblo. We can find the fresh trail, and so take up the chase. There shall be no rest for us until the 
rogue is either slain or taken prisoner.” 
“And you have the reward,” Don Diego added. 
“You speak true words, caballero. The reward will come in handy. But I seek revenge, also. 
The rogue disarmed me once.” 
“Ah! That was the time he held a pistol in your face and forced you to fight not too well?” 
“That was the time, my good friend. Oh, I have a score to settle with him.” 
“These turbulent times.” Don Diego sighed. “I would they were at an end. A man has no 
chance for meditation. There are moments when I think I shall ride far out in the hills, where 
there can be found no life except rattlesnakes and coyotes, and there spend a number of days. 
Only in that manner may a man meditate.” 
“Why meditate?” Gonzales cried. “Why not cease thought and take to action? What a man 
you would make, caballero, if you let your eye flash now and then, and quarreled a bit, and showed 
your teeth once in a while. What you need is a few bitter enemies.” 
“May the saints preserve us!” Don Diego cried. 
“It is the truth, caballero! Fight a bit—make love to some señorita—get drunk! Wake up and be 
a man!” 
“Upon my soul! You almost persuade me, my sergeant. But—no. I never could endure the 
exertion.” 
Gonzales growled something into his great mustache, and got up from the table. 
“I have no special liking for you, 
fray, but I thank you for the wine, which was excellent,” he 
said. “We must continue our journey. A soldier’s duty never is at an end while he lives.” 
“Do not speak of journeys!” Don Diego cried. “I must take one myself on the morrow. My 
business at the hacienda is done, and I go back to the pueblo.” 
“Let me express the hope, my good friend, that you survive the hardship,” Sergeant Gonzales 
said. 
CHAPTER XVIII 
Don Diego Returns 
SEÑORITA LOLITA HAD TO TELL HER PARENTS, of course, what had happened during 
their absence, for the 
despensero knew and would tell Don Diego when he returned, and the 
señorita was wise enough to realize that it would be better to make the first explanation. 
The 
despensero, having been sent for wine, knew nothing of the love scene that had been 

---

enacted, and had been told merely that Señor Zorro had hurried away. That seemed reasonable, 
since the señor was pursued by the soldiers. 
So the girl told her father and mother that Captain Ramón had called while they were absent, 
and that he had forced his way into the big living-room to speak to her, despite the entreaties of the 
servant. Perhaps he had been drinking too much wine, else was not himself because of his wound, 
the girl explained, but he grew too bold, and pressed his suit with ardor that was repugnant, and 
finally insisted that he should have a kiss. 
Whereupon, said the señorita, this Señor Zorro had stepped from the corner of the room—
and how he came to be there, she did not know—and had forced Captain Ramón to apologize, and 
then had thrown him out of the house. After which—and here she neglected to tell the entire 
truth—Señor Zorro made a courteous bow and hurried away. 
Don Carlos was for getting a blade and going at once to the presidio and challenging Captain 
Ramón to mortal combat; but Doña Catalina was more calm, and showed him that to do that 
would be to let the world know that their daughter had been affronted, and also it would not aid 
their fortunes any if Don Carlos quarreled with an officer of the army; and yet again the don was of 
an age, and the captain probably would run him through in two passes and leave Doña Catalina a 
weeping widow, which she did not wish to be. 
So the don paced the floor of the great living-room and fumed and fussed and wished he were 
ten years the younger, or that he had political power again, and he promised that when his 
daughter should have wedded Don Diego, and he was once more in good standing, he would see 
that Captain Ramón was disgraced and his uniform torn from his shoulders. 
Sitting in the chamber that had been assigned to her, Señorita Lolita listened to her father’s 
ravings, and found herself confronted with a situation. Of course, she could not wed Don Diego 
now. She had given her lips and her love to another, a man whose face she never had seen, a rogue 
pursued by soldiery—and she had spoken truly when she had said that a Pulido loved but once. 
She tried to explain it all to herself, saying that it was a generous impulse that had forced her to 
give her lips to the man; and she told herself that it was not the truth, that her heart had been 
stirred when first he spoke to her at her father’s hacienda during the siesta hour. 
She was not prepared yet to tell her parents of the love that had come into her life, for it was 
sweet to keep it a secret; and, moreover, she dreaded the shock to them, and half feared that her 
father might cause her to be sent away to some place where she never would see Señor Zorro 
again. 
She crossed to a window and gazed out at the plaza—and she saw Don Diego approaching in 
the distance. He rode slowly, as if greatly fatigued, and his two native servants rode a short distance 
behind him. 
Men called to him as he neared the house, and he waved his hand at them languidly in 
response to their greeting. He dismounted slowly, one of the natives holding the stirrup and 
assisting him, brushed the dust from his clothes, and started toward the door. 
Don Carlos and his wife were upon their feet to greet him, their faces beaming, for they had 
been accepted anew into society the evening before, and knew it was because they were Don 
Diego’s house guests. 
“I regret that I was not here when you arrived,” Don Diego said, “but I trust that you have been 
made comfortable in my poor house.” 
“More than comfortable in this gorgeous Palace!” Don Carlos exclaimed. 
“Then you have been fortunate, for the saints know I have been uncomfortable enough.” 
“How is that, Don Diego?” Doña Catalina asked. 
“My work at the hacienda done, I rode as far as the place of Fray Felipe, there to spend the 

---

night in quiet. But as we were about to retire, there came a thundering noise at the door, and this 
Sergeant Gonzales and a troop of soldiers entered. It appears that they had been chasing the 
highwayman called Señor Zorro, and had lost him in the darkness!” 
In the other room, a dainty señorita gave thanks for that. 
“These are turbulent times,” Don Diego continued, sighing and mopping the perspiration 
from his forehead. “The noisy fellows were with us an hour or more, and then continued the 
chase. And because of what they had said of violence, I endured a horrible nightmare, so got very 
little rest. And this morning I was forced to continue to Reina de Los Angeles.” 
“You have a difficult time,” Don Carlos said. “Señor Zorro was here, caballero, in your house, 
before the soldiers chased him.” 
“What is this intelligence?” Don Diego cried, sitting up straight in his chair and betraying 
sudden interest. 
“Undoubtedly he came to steal, else to abduct you and hold you for ransom,” Doña Catalina 
observed. “But I scarcely think that he stole. Don Carlos and myself were visiting friends, and 
Señorita Lolita remained here alone. There—there is a distressing affair to report to you—” 
“I beg of you to proceed,” Don Diego said. 
“While we were gone, Captain Ramón, of the presidio, called. He was informed we were 
absent, but he forced his way into the house and made himself obnoxious to the señorita. This 
Señor Zorro came in and forced the captain to apologize and then drove him away.” 
“Well, that is what I call a pretty bandit!” Don Diego exclaimed. “The señorita suffers from the 
experience?” 
“Indeed, no,” said Doña Catalina. “She was of the opinion that Captain Ramón had taken too 
much wine. I shall call her.” 
Doña Catalina went to the door of the chamber and called her daughter, and Lolita came into 
the room and greeted Don Diego as became a proper maiden. 
“It makes me desolate to know that you received an insult in my house,” Don Diego said. “I 
shall consider the affair.” 
Doña Catalina made a motion to her husband, and they went to a far corner to sit, that the 
young folk might be somewhat alone, which seemed to please Don Diego, but not the señorita. 
CHAPTER XIX 
Captain Ramón Apologizes
“CAPTAIN RAMÓN IS A BEAST!” the girl said in a voice not too loud. 
“He is a worthless fellow,” Don Diego agreed. 
“He—that is—he wished to kiss me,” she said. 
“And you did not let him, of course.” 
“Señor!” 
“I—confound it, I did not mean that. Certainly you did not let him. I trust that you slapped his 
face.” 
“I did,” said the señorita. “And then he struggled with me, and he told me that I should not be 
so particular, since I was daughter of a man who stood in the bad graces of the governor.” 
“Why, the infernal brute!” Don Diego exclaimed. 
“Is that all you have to say about it, caballero?” 
“I cannot use oaths in your presence, of course.” 
“You do not understand, señor? This man came into your house, and insulted the girl you 

---

have asked to be your wife!” 
“Confound the rascal! When next I see his excellency, I shall ask him to remove the officer to 
some other post.” 
“Oh!” the girl cried. “Have you no spirit at all? Have him removed? Were you a proper man, 
Don Diego, you would go to the presidio, you would call this Captain Ramón to account, you 
would pass your sword through his body and call upon all to witness that a man could not insult 
the señorita you admired and escape the consequences.” 
“It is such an exertion to fight,” he said. “Let us not speak of violence. Perhaps I shall see the 
fellow and rebuke him.” 
“Rebuke him!” the girl cried. 
“Let us talk of something else, señorita. Let us speak of the matter regarding which I talked the 
other day. My father will be after me again soon to know when I am going to take a wife. Cannot 
we get the matter settled in some manner? Have you decided upon the day?” 
“I have not said that I would marry you,” she replied. 
“Why hold off?” he questioned. “Have you looked at my house? I shall make it satisfactory to 
you I am sure. You shall refurnish it to suit your taste, though I pray you do not disturb it too 
much, for I dislike to have things in a mess. You shall have a new carriage and anything you may 
desire.” 
“Is this your manner of wooing?” she asked, glancing at him from the corners of her eyes. 
“What a nuisance to woo,” he said. “Must I play a guitar, and make pretty speeches? Can you 
not give me your answer without all that foolishness?” 
She was comparing this man beside her with Señor Zorro, and Don Diego did not compare to 
him favorably. She wanted to be done with this farce, to have Don Diego out of her vision, and 
none but Señor Zorro in it. 
“I must speak frankly to you, caballero,” she said. “I have searched my heart, and in it I find no 
love for you. I am sorry, for I know what our marriage would mean to my parents, and to myself in 
a financial way. But I cannot wed you, Don Diego, and it is useless for you to ask.” 
“Well, by the saints! I had thought it was about all settled,” he said. “Do you hear that, Don 
Carlos? Your daughter says she cannot wed with me—that it is not in her heart to do so.” 
“Lolita, retire to your chamber!” Doña Catalina exclaimed. 
The girl did so gladly. Don Carlos and his wife hurried across the room and sat down beside 
Don Diego. 
“I fear you do not understand women, my friend,” Don Carlos said. “Never must you take a 
woman’s answer for the last. She always may change her mind. A woman likes to keep a man 
dangling, likes to make him blow cold with fear and hot with anticipation. Let her have her moods, 
my friend. In the end, I am sure, you shall have your way.” 
“It is beyond me!” Don Diego cried. “What shall I do now? I told her I would give her all her 
heart desired.” 
“Her heart desires love, I suppose,” Doña Catalina said, out of the wealth of her woman’s 
wisdom. 
“But certainly I shall love and cherish her. Does not a man promise that in the ceremony? 
Would a Vega break his word regarding such a thing?” 
“Just a little courtship,” Don Carlos urged. 
“But it is such a nuisance.” 
“A few soft words, a pressure of the hand now and then, a sigh or two, a languishing look from 
the eyes—” 
“Nonsense!” 

---

“It is what a maiden expects. Speak not of marriage for some time. Let the idea grow on her—” 
“But my august father is liable to come to the pueblo any day and ask when I am to take a wife. 
He has rather ordered me to do it.” 
“No doubt your father will understand,” said Don Carlos. “Tell him that her mother and 
myself are on your side and that you are enjoying the pleasure of winning the girl.” 
“I believe we should return to the hacienda tomorrow,” Doña Catalina put in. “Lolita has seen 
this splendid house, and she will contrast it with ours. She will realize what it means to marry you. 
And there is an ancient saying that when a man and a maid are apart they grow fonder of each 
other.” 
“I do not wish to have you hurry away.” 
“I think it would be best under the circumstances. And do you ride out, say, in three days, 
caballero, and I doubt not you will find her more willing to listen to your suit.” 
“I presume you know best,” Dom Diego said. “But you must remain at least until tomorrow. 
And now I think I shall go to the presidio and see this Captain Ramón. Possibly that will please the 
señorita. She appears to think I should call him to account.” 
Don Carlos thought that such a course would prove disastrous for a man who did not practice 
with the blade and knew little of fighting, but he refrained from saying so. A gentleman never 
intruded his own thoughts at such a time. Even if a caballero went to his death, it was all right so 
long as he believed he was doing the proper thing, and died as a caballero should. 
So Don Diego went from the house and walked slowly up the hill toward the presidio building. 
Captain Ramón observed his approach, and wondered at it, and snarled at the thought of coming 
to combat with such a man. 
But he was cold courtesy itself when Don Diego was ushered into the comandante’s office. 
“I am proud to know you have visited me here,” he said, bowing low before the scion of the 
Vegas. 
Don Diego bowed in answer, and took the chair Captain Ramón indicated. The captain 
marveled that Don Diego had no blade at his side. 
“I was forced to climb your confounded hill to speak to you on a certain matter,” Don Diego 
said. “I have been informed that you visited my house during my absence, and insulted a young 
lady who is my guest.” 
“Indeed?” the captain said. 
“Were you deep in wine?” 
“Señor?” 
“That would excuse the offense in part, of course. And then you were wounded, and probably 
in a fever. Were you in a fever, captain?” 
“Undoubtedly,” Ramón said. 
“A fever is an awful thing—I had a siege of it once. But you should not have intruded upon the 
señorita. Not only did you affront her, but you affronted me. I have asked the señorita to become 
my wife. The matter—er—is not settled as yet, but I have some rights in this case.” 
“I entered your house seeking news of this Señor Zorro,” the captain lied. 
“You—er—found him?” Don Diego asked. 
The face of the comandante flushed red. 
“The fellow was there and he attacked me,” he replied. “I was wounded, of course, and wore 
no weapon, and so he could work his will with me.” 
“It is a most remarkable thing,” observed Don Diego, “that none of you soldiers can meet this 
Curse of Capistrano when you can be on equal terms. Always he descends upon you when you are 
helpless, or threatens you with a pistol while he fights you with a blade, or has his score of men 

---

about him. I met Sergeant Gonzales and his men at the hacienda of Fray Felipe last night, and the 
big sergeant told some harrowing tale of the highwayman and his score of men scattering his 
troopers.” 
“We shall get him yet,” the captain promised. “And I might call your attention to certain 
significant things, caballero. Don Carlos Pulido, as we know, does not stand high with those in 
authority. This Señor Zorro was at the Pulido hacienda, you will remember, and attacked me 
there, emerging from a closet to do it.” 
“Ha! What mean you?” 
“Again, on last night, he was in your house while you were abroad and the Pulidos were your 
guests. It begins to look as if Don Carlos has a hand in the work of the Señor Zorro. I am almost 
convinced that Don Carlos is a traitor and is aiding the rogue. You had better think twice, or half a 
score of times, before seeking a matrimonial alliance with the daughter of such a man.” 
“By the saints, what a speech!” Don Diego exclaimed, as if in admiration. “You have made my 
poor head ring with it. You really believe all this?” 
“I do, caballero.” 
“Well, the Pulidos are returning to their own place tomorrow, I believe. I but asked them to be 
my guests so they could be away from the scenes of this Señor Zorro’s deeds.” 
“And Señor Zorro followed them to the pueblo. You see?” 
“Can it be possible?” Don Diego gasped. “I must consider the matter. Oh, these turbulent 
times! But they are returning to their hacienda tomorrow. Of course I would not have his 
excellency think that I harbored a traitor.” 
He got to his feet, bowed courteously, and then stepped slowly toward the door. And there he 
seemed to remember something suddenly and turned to face the captain again. 
“Ha! I am at the point of forgetting all about the insult!” he exclaimed. “What have you to say, 
my captain, regarding the events of last night?” 
“Of course, caballero, I apologize to you most humbly,” Captain Ramón replied. 
“I suppose that I must accept your apology. But please do not let such a thing happen again. 
You frightened my 
despensero badly, and he is an excellent servant.” 
Then Don Diego Vega bowed again and left the presidio, and Captain Ramón laughed long 
and loudly, until the sick men in the hospital room feared that their comandante must have lost his 
wits. 
“What a man!” the captain exclaimed. “I have turned him away from that Pulido Señorita, I 
think. And I was a fool to hint to the governor that he could be capable of treason. I must rectify 
that matter in some way. The man has not enough spirit to be a traitor!” 
CHAPTER XX 
Don Diego Shows Interest
THE THREATENED RAIN DID NOT come that day nor that night, and the following morning 
found the sun shining brightly and the sky blue and the scent of blossoms in the air. 
Soon after the morning meal, the Pulido 
carreta was driven to the front of the house by Don 
Diego’s servants, and Don Carlos and his wife and daughter prepared to depart for their own 
hacienda. 
“It desolates me,” Don Diego said at the door, “that there can be no match between the 
señorita and myself. What shall I say to my father?” 
“Do not give up hope, caballero,” Don Carlos advised him. “Perhaps when we are home again, 

---

and Lolita contrasts our humble abode with your magnificence here, she will change her mind. A 
woman changes her mind, caballero, as often as she does the method of doing her hair.” 
“I had thought all would be arranged before now,” Don Diego said. “You think there is still 
hope?” 
“I trust so,” Don Carlos said, but he doubted it, remembering the look that had been in the 
señorita’s face. However, he intended having a serious talk with her once they were home, and 
possibly might decide to insist on obedience even in this matter of taking a mate. 
So the usual courtesies were paid, and then the lumbering 
carreta was driven away, and Don 
Diego Vega turned back into his house with his head hanging upon his breast, as it always hung 
when he did himself the trouble to think. 
Presently he decided that he needed companionship for the moment, and left the house to 
cross the plaza and enter the tavern. The fat landlord rushed to greet him, conducted him to a 
choice seat near a window, and fetched wine without being commanded to do so. 
Don Diego spent the greater part of an hour looking through the window at the plaza, watching 
men and women come and go, observing the toiling natives, and now and then glancing up the trail 
that ran toward the San Gabriel road. 
Down this trail, presently, he observed approaching two mounted men, and between their 
horses walked a third man, and Don Diego could see that ropes ran from this man’s waist to the 
saddles of the horsemen. 
“What, in the name of the saints, have we here?” he exclaimed, getting up from the bench and 
going closer to the window. 
“Ha!” said the landlord at his shoulder. “That will be the prisoner coming now.” 
“Prisoner?” said Don Diego, looking at him with a question in his glance. 
“A native brought the news a short time ago, caballero. Once more a 
fray is in the toils.” 
“Explain, fat one!” 
“The man is to go before the 
magistrado immediately for his trial. They say that he swindled a 
dealer in hides, and now must pay the penalty. He wished his trial at San Gabriel, but that was not 
allowed, since all there are in favor of the missions and the 
frailes.” 
“Who is the man?” Don Diego asked. 
“He is called Fray Felipe, caballero.” 
“What is this? Fray Felipe is an old man, and my good friend. I spent night before the last with 
him at the hacienda he manages.” 
“No doubt he has imposed upon you, caballero, as upon others,” the landlord said. 
Don Diego showed some slight interest now. He walked briskly from the tavern and went to 
the office of the 
magistrado in a little adobe building on the opposite side of the plaza. The 
horsemen were just arriving with their prisoner. They were two soldiers who had been stationed at 
San Gabriel, the 
frailes having been forced to give them bed and board in the governor’s name. 
It was Fray Felipe. He had been forced to walk the entire distance fastened to the saddles of his 
guards, and there were indications that the horsemen had galloped now and then to test the 
fray’s 
powers of endurance. 
Fray Felipe’s gown was almost in rags, and was covered with dust and perspiration. Those who 
crowded around him now gave him jeers and coarse jests, but the 
fray held his head proudly and 
pretended not to see or hear them. 
The soldiers dismounted and forced him into the 
magistrado’s office, and the loiterers and 
natives crowded forward and through the door. Don Diego hesitated a moment, and then stepped 
toward the door. “One side, scum!” he cried; and the natives gave way before him. 
He entered and pressed through the throng. The 
magistrado saw him and beckoned him to a 

---

front seat. But Don Diego did not care to sit at that time. 
“What is this we have here?” he demanded. “This is Fray Felipe, a godly man and my friend.” 
“He is a swindler,” one of the soldiers retorted. 
“If he is, then we can put our trust in no man,” Don Diego observed. 
“All this is quite irregular, caballero,” the 
magistrado insisted, stepping forward. “The charges 
have been preferred, and the man is here to be tried.” Then Don Diego sat down, and court was 
convened. The man who made the complaint was an evil-looking fellow who explained that he was 
a dealer in tallow and hides, and had a warehouse in San Gabriel. 
“I went to the hacienda this 
fray manages and purchased ten hides of him,” he testified. “After 
giving him the coins in payment and taking them to my storehouse, I found that the hides had not 
been cured properly. In fact they were ruined. I returned to the hacienda and told the 
fray as 
much, demanding that he return the money, which he refused to do.” 
“The hides were good,” Fray Felipe put in. “I told him I would return the money when he 
returned the hides.” 
“They were spoiled,” the dealer declared. “My assistant here will testify as much. They caused 
a stench, and I had them burned immediately.” The assistant testified as much. 
“Have you anything to say, 
fray?” the magistrado asked. 
“It will avail me nothing,” Fray Felipe said. “I already am found guilty and sentenced. Were I a 
follower of a licentious governor instead of a robed Franciscan, the hides would have been good.” 
“You speak treason?” the 
magistrado cried. 
“I speak truth.” 
The 
magistrado puckered his lips and frowned. “There has been entirely too much of this 
swindling,” he said finally. “Because a man wears a robe he cannot rob with impunity. In this case, 
I deem it proper to make an example, that 
frailes will see they cannot take advantage of their 
calling. The 
fray must repay the man the price of the hides. And for the swindle he shall receive 
across his bare back ten lashes. And for the words of treason he has spoken, he shall receive five 
lashes additional. It is a sentence.” 
CHAPTER XXI 
The Whipping 
THE NATIVES JEERED AND APPLAUDED. Don Diego’s face went white, and for an instant 
his eyes met those of Fray Felipe, and in the face of the latter he saw resignation. 
The office was cleared, and the soldiers led the 
fray to the place of execution in the middle of 
the plaza. Don Diego observed that the 
magistrado was grinning, and he realized what a farce the 
trial had been. 
“These turbulent times!” he said to a gentleman of his acquaintance who stood near. 
They tore Felipe’s robe from his back and started to lash him to the post. But the 
fray had 
been a man of great strength in his day, and some of it remained to him in his advanced years; and 
it came to him now what ignominy he was to suffer. 
Suddenly he whirled the soldiers aside and stooped to grasp the whip from the ground. 
“You have removed my robe!” he cried. “I am man now, not 
fray! One side, dogs!” 
He lashed out with the whip. He cut a soldier across the face. He struck at two natives who 
sprang toward him. And then the throng was upon him, beating him down, kicking and striking at 
him, disregarding even the soldiers’ orders. 
Don Diego Vega felt moved to action. He could not see his friend treated in this manner 

---

despite his docile disposition. He rushed into the midst of the throng, calling upon the natives to 
clear the way. But he felt a hand grasp his arm, and turned to look into the eyes of the 
magistrado. 
“These are no actions for a caballero,” the judge said in a low tone. “The man has been 
sentenced properly. When you raise hand to give him aid, you raise hand against his excellency. 
Have you stopped to think of that, Don Diego Vega?” 
Apparently Don Diego had not. And he realized, too, that he could do no good to his friend 
by interfering now. He nodded his head to the 
magistrado and turned away. 
But he did not go far. The soldiers had subdued Fray Felipe by now and had lashed him to the 
whipping-post. This was added insult, for the post was used for none except insubordinate natives. 
The lash was swung through the air, and Don Diego saw blood spurt from Fray Felipe’s bare back. 
He turned his face away then, for he could not bear to look. But he could count the lashes by 
the singing of the whip through the air, and he knew that proud old Fray Felipe was making not the 
slightest sound of pain and would die without doing so. 
He heard the natives laughing and turned back again to find that the whipping was at an end. 
“The money must be repaid within two days, or you shall have fifteen lashes more,” the 
magistrado was saying. 
Fray Felipe was untied and dropped to the ground at the foot of the post. The crowd began to 
melt away. Two 
frailes who had followed from San Gabriel aided their brother to his feet and led 
him aside while the natives hooted. Don Diego Vega returned to his house. 
“Send me Bernardo,” he ordered his 
despensero. 
The butler bit his lip to keep from grinning as he went to do as he was bidden. Bernardo was a 
deaf-and-dumb native servant for whom Don Diego had a peculiar use. Within the minute he 
entered the great living-room and bowed before his master. 
“Bernardo, you are a gem,” Don Diego said: “You cannot speak or hear, cannot write or read, 
and have not sense enough to make your wants known by the sign language. You are the one man 
in the world to whom I can speak without having my ears talked off in reply. You do not ‘Ha!’ me 
at every turn.” 
Bernardo bobbed his head as if he understood. He always bobbed his head in that fashion 
when Don Diego’s lips ceased to move. 
“These are turbulent times, Bernardo,” Don Diego continued. “A man can find no place 
where he can meditate. Even at Fray Felipe’s night before last there came a big sergeant pounding 
at the door. A man with nerves is in a sorry state. And this whipping of old Fray Felipe—Bernardo, 
let us hope that this Señor Zorro, who punishes those who work injustice, hears of the affair and 
acts accordingly.” 
Bernardo bobbed his head again. 
“As for myself, I am in a pretty pickle,” Don Diego went on. “My father has ordered that I get 
me a wife, and the señorita I selected will have none of me. I shall have my father taking me by the 
ear in short order. 
“Bernardo, it is time for me to leave this pueblo for a few days. I shall go to the hacienda of my 
father, to tell him I have got no woman to wed me yet, and ask his indulgence. And there, on the 
wide hills behind his house, may I hope to find some spot where I may rest and consult the poets 
for one entire day without highwaymen and sergeants and unjust 
magistrados bothering me. And 
you, Bernardo, shall accompany me, of course. I can talk to you without your taking the words out 
of my mouth.” 
Bernardo bobbed his head again. He guessed what was to come. It was a habit of Don Diego’s 
to talk to him thus for a long time, and always there was a journey afterward. Bernardo liked that, 
because he worshiped Don Diego, and because he liked to visit the hacienda of Don Diego’s 

---

father, where he always was treated with kindness. 
The 
despensero had been listening in the other room and had heard what was said, and now 
he gave orders for Don Diego’s horse to be made ready and prepared a bottle of wine and water 
for the master to take with him. 
Within a short time Don Diego set out, Bernardo riding mule a short distance behind him. 
They hurried along the highroad and presently caught up with a small 
carreta, beside which walked 
two robed Franciscans, and in which was Fray Felipe, trying to keep back moans of pain. Don 
Diego dismounted beside the 
carreta as it stopped. He went over to it and clasped Fray Felipe’s 
hands in his own. 
“My poor friend,” he said. 
“It is but another instance of injustice,” Fray Felipe said. “For twenty years we of the missions 
have been subjected to it, and it grows. The sainted Junipero Serra invaded this land when other 
men feared, and at San Diego de Alcala he built the first mission of what became a chain, thus 
giving an empire to the world. Our mistake was that we prospered. We did the work, and others 
reap the advantages.” 
Don Diego nodded, and the other went on: 
“They began taking our mission lands from us, lands we had cultivated, which had formed a 
wilderness and which my brothers had turned into gardens and orchards. They robbed us of 
worldly goods. And not content with that they now are persecuting us. 
“The mission empire is doomed, caballero. The time is not far distant when mission roofs will 
fall in and the walls crumble away. Some day people will look at the ruins and wonder how such a 
thing could come to pass. But we can do nought except submit. It is one of our principles. I did 
forget myself for a moment in the plaza at Reina de Los Angeles, when I took the whip and struck 
a man. It is our lot to submit.” 
“Sometimes,” mused Don Diego, “I wish I were a man of action.” 
“You give sympathy, my friend, which is worth its weight in precious stones. And action 
expressed in a wrong channel is worse than no action at all. Where do you ride?” 
“To the hacienda of my father, good friend. I must crave his pardon and ask his indulgence. 
He has ordered that I get me a wife, and I find it a difficult task.” 
“That should be an easy task for a Vega. Any maiden would be proud to take that name.” 
“I had hoped to wed with the Señorita Lolita Pulido, she having taken my fancy.” 
“A worthy maiden! Her father, too, has been subjected to unjust oppression. Did you join your 
family to his, none would dare raise hand against him.” 
“All that is very well, 
fray, and the absolute truth, of course. But the señorita will have none of 
me,” Don Diego complained. “It appears that I have not dash and spirit enough.” 
“She is hard to please, perhaps. Or possibly she is but playing at being a coquette with the hope 
of leading you on and increasing your ardor. A maid loves to tantalize a man, caballero. It is her 
privilege.” 
“I showed her my house in the pueblo and mentioned my great wealth and agreed to purchase 
a new carriage for her,” Don Diego told him. 
“Did you show her your heart, mention your love, and agree to be a perfect husband?” 
Don Diego looked at him blankly, then batted his eyes rapidly, and scratched at his chin, as he 
did sometimes when he was puzzled over a matter. 
“What a perfectly silly idea!” he exclaimed after a time. 
“Try it, caballero. It may have an excellent effect.” 

---

CHAPTER XXII 
Swift Punishment 
THE 
FRAILES DROVE THE CART ONWARD, Fray Felipe raised his hand in blessing, and 
Don Diego Vega turned aside into the other trail, the deaf-and-dumb Bernardo following at his 
heels on the mule. 
Back in the pueblo, the dealer in hides and tallow was the center of attraction at the tavern. 
The fat landlord was kept busy supplying his guest with wine, for the dealer in hides and tallow was 
spending a part of the money of which he had swindled Fray Felipe. The 
magistrado was spending 
the rest. 
There was boisterous laughter as one recounted how Fray Felipe lay about him with the whip, 
and how the blood spurted from his old back when the lash was applied. 
“Not a whimper from him!” cried the dealer in hides and tallow. “He is a courageous old 
coyote! Now, last month we whipped one at San Fernando, and he howled for mercy, but some 
men said he had been ill and was weak, and possibly that was so. A tough lot, these 
frailes. But it is 
great sport when we can make one howl. More wine, landlord! Fray Felipe is paying for it!” 
There was a deal of raucous laughter at that, and the dealer’s assistant, who had given perjured 
testimony, was tossed a coin and told to play a man and do his own buying. Whereupon the 
apprentice purchased wine for all in the inn, and howled merrily when the fat landlord gave him 
no change from his piece of money. 
“Are you a 
fray, that you pinch coins?” the landlord asked. 
Those in the tavern howled with merriment again, and the landlord, who had cheated the 
assistant to the limit, grinned as he went about his business. It was a great day for the fat landlord. 
“Who was the caballero who showed some mercy toward the 
fray?” the dealer asked. 
“That was Don Diego Vega,” the landlord replied. 
“He will be getting himself into trouble—” 
“Not Don Diego,” said the landlord. “You know the great Vega family, do you not, señor? His 
excellency himself curries their favor. Did the Vegas hold up as much as a little finger, there would 
be a political upheaval in these parts.” 
“Then he is a dangerous man?” the dealer asked. 
A torrent of laughter answered him. 
“Dangerous? Don Diego Vega?” the landlord cried, while tears ran down his fat cheeks. “You 
will be the death of me! Don Diego does nought but sit in the sun and dream. He scarcely ever 
wears a blade, except as a matter of show. He groans if he has to ride a few miles on a horse. Don 
Diego is about as dangerous as a lizard basking in the sun. 
“But he is an excellent gentleman, for all that!” the landlord added hastily, afraid that his words 
would reach Don Diego’s ears, and Don Diego would take his custom elsewhere. 
It was almost dusk when the dealer in hides and tallow left the tavern with his assistant, and 
both reeled as they walked, for they had partaken of too much wine. 
They made their way to the 
carreta in which they traveled, waved their farewells to the group 
about the door of the tavern, and started slowly up the trail toward San Gabriel. 
They made their journey in a leisurely manner, continuing to drink from a jug of wine they had 
purchased. They went over the crest of the first hill, and the pueblo of Reina de Los Angeles was 
lost to view, and all they could see was the highway twisting before them like a great dusty serpent, 
and the brown hills, and a few buildings in the distance, where some man had his hacienda. 
They made a turning and found a horseman confronting them, sitting easily in the saddle, with 
his horse standing across the road in such manner that they could not pass. 

---

“Turn your horse—turn your beast!” the dealer in hides and tallow cried. “Would you have me 
drive over you?” 
The assistant gave an exclamation that was part of fear, and the dealer looked more closely at 
the horseman. His jaw dropped; his eyes bulged. 
“’Tis Señor Zorro!” he exclaimed. “By the saints! ’Tis the Curse of Capistrano, away down 
here near San Gabriel. You would not bother me, Señor Zorro? I am a poor man, and have no 
money. Only yesterday, a 
fray swindled me, and I have been to the Reina de Los Angeles seeking 
justice.” 
“Did you get it?” Señor Zorro asked. 
“The 
magistrado was kind, señor. He ordered the fray to repay me, but I do not know when I 
shall get the money.” 
“Get out of the 
carreta, and your assistant also!” Señor Zorro commanded. 
“But I have no money—” the dealer protested. 
“Out of the 
carreta with you! Do I have to request it twice? Move, or lead finds a lodging-place 
in your carcass!” 
Now the dealer saw that the highwayman held a pistol in his hand, and he squealed with 
sudden fright and got out of the cart as speedily as possible, his assistant tumbling out at his heels. 
They stood in the dusty highway before Señor Zorro, trembling with fear, the dealer begging for 
mercy. 
“I have no money with me, kind highwayman, but I shall get it for you!” the dealer cried. “I 
shall carry it to where you say, whenever you wish—” 
“Silence, beast!” Señor Zorro cried. “I do not want your money, perjurer. I know all about the 
farce of a trial at Reina de Los Angeles; I have ways of finding out about such things speedily. So 
the aged 
fray swindled you, eh? Liar and thief! ’Tis you who are the swindler. And they gave that 
old and godly man fifteen lashes across his bare back because of the lies you told. And you and the 
magistrado will divide the money of which you swindled him.” 
“I swear by the saints—” 
“Do not. You have done enough false swearing already. Step forward.” 
The dealer complied, trembling as if with a disease; and Señor Zorro dismounted swiftly and 
walked around in front of his horse. The dealer’s assistant was standing beside the 
carreta, and his 
face was white. 
“Forward!” Señor Zorro commanded again. 
Again the dealer complied; but suddenly he began to beg for mercy, for Señor Zorro had taken 
a mule whip from beneath his long cloak, and held it ready in his right hand, while he held the 
pistol in his left. 
“Turn your back!” he commanded now. 
“Mercy, good highwayman! Am I to be beaten as well as robbed? You would whip an honest 
merchant because of a thieving 
fray?” 
The first blow fell, and the dealer shrieked with pain. His last remark appeared to have given 
strength to the highwayman’s arm. The second blow fell, and the dealer in hides and tallow went to 
his knees in the dusty highroad. 
Then Señor Zorro returned his pistol to his belt and stepped forward and grasped the dealer’s 
mop of hair with his left hand, so as to hold him up, and with the right he rained heavy blows with 
the mule whip upon the man’s back, until his tough coat and shirt were cut to ribbons, and the 
blood soaked through. 
“That for a man who perjures himself and has an honest 
fray punished!” Señor Zorro cried. 
And then he gave his attention to the assistant. 

---

“No doubt, young man, you but carried out your master’s orders when you lied before the 
magistrado,” he said. “but you must be taught to be honest and fair, no matter what the cir-
cumstances.” 
“Mercy, señor!” the assistant howled. 
“Did you not laugh when the 
fray was being whipped? Are you not filled with wine now 
because you have been celebrating the punishment that godly man received for something he did 
not do?” 
Señor Zorro grasped the youth by the nape of his neck, whirled him around, and sent a stiff 
blow at his shoulders. The boy shrieked and then began whimpering. Five lashes in all he received, 
for Señor Zorro apparently did not wish to render him unconscious. And finally he hurled the boy 
from him, and looped his whip. 
“Let us hope both of you have learned your lesson,” he said. “Get into the 
carreta and drive 
on. And when you speak of this occurrence, tell the truth, else I hear of it and punish you again! 
Let me not learn that you have said some fifteen or twenty men surrounded and held you while I 
worked with the whip.” 
The apprentice sprang into the cart, and his master followed, and they whipped up and 
disappeared in a cloud of dust toward San Gabriel. Señor Zorro looked after them for a time, then 
lifted his mask and wiped the perspiration from his face, and then mounted his horse again, fasten-
ing the mule whip to the pommel of his saddle. 
CHAPTER XXIII 
More Punishment
SEÑOR ZORRO RODE QUICKLY TO THE CREST of the hill beneath which was the pueblo, 
and there he stopped his horse and looked down at the village. 
It was almost dark, but he could see quite well enough for his purpose. Candles had been 
lighted in the tavern; and from the building came the sounds of raucous song and loud jest. 
Candles were burning at the presidio, and from some of the houses came the odor of cooking 
food. 
Señor Zorro rode on down the hill. When he reached the edge of the plaza he put spurs to his 
horse and dashed up to the tavern door, before which half a dozen men were congregated, the 
most of them under the influence of wine. 
“Landlord!” he cried. 
None of the men about the door gave him particular attention at first, thinking he was but 
some caballero on a journey wishing refreshment. The landlord hurried out, rubbing his fat hands 
together, and stepped close to the horse. And then he saw that the rider was masked, and that the 
muzzle of a pistol was threatening him. 
“Is the 
magistrado within?” Señor Zorro asked. 
“Si, señor!” 
“Stand where you are and pass the word for him. Say there is a caballero here who wishes 
speech with him regarding a certain matter.” 
The terrified landlord shrieked for the 
magistrado, and the word was passed inside. Presently 
the judge came staggering out, crying in a loud voice to know who had summoned him from his 
pleasant entertainment. 
He staggered up to the horse, and put one hand against it, and looked up to find two glittering 
eyes regarding him through a mask. He opened his mouth to shriek, but Señor Zorro warned him 

---

in time. 
“Not a sound or you die,” he said. “I have come to punish you. Today you passed judgment 
on a godly man who was innocent. Moreover, you knew of his innocence, and his trial was but a 
farce. By your order he received a certain number of lashes. You shall have the same payment.” 
“You dare—” 
“Silence!” the highwayman commanded. “You about the door there—come to my side!” he 
called. 
They crowded forward, the most of them peons who thought that here was a caballero who 
wished something done and had gold to pay for it. In the dusk they did not see the mask and pistol 
until they stood beside the horse, and it was too late to retreat then. 
“We are going to punish this unjust 
magistrado,” Señor Zorro told them. “The five of you will 
seize him now and conduct him to the post in the middle of the plaza, and there you will tie him. 
The first man to falter receives a slug of lead from my pistol, and my blade will deal with the oth-
ers. And I wish speed, also.” 
The frightened 
magistrado began to screech now. 
“Laugh loudly, that his cries may not be heard,” the highwayman ordered; and the men 
laughed as loudly as they could, albeit there was a peculiar quality to their laughter. 
They seized the 
magistrado by the arms and conducted him to the post and bound him there 
with thongs. 
“You will line up,” Señor Zorro told them. “You will take this whip, and each of you will lash 
this man five times. I shall be watching, and if I see the whip fall lightly once I shall deal out 
punishment. Begin.” 
He tossed the whip to the first man, and the punishment began. Señor Zorro had no fault to 
find with the manner in which it was given, for there was great fear in the hearts of the peons, and 
they whipped with strength, and willingly. 
“You, also, landlord,” Señor Zorro said. 
“He will put me in for it afterward,” the landlord wailed. 
“Do you prefer 
cárcel or a coffin, señor?” the highwayman asked. 
It became evident that the landlord preferred the 
cárcel. He picked up the whip, and he 
surpassed the peons in the strength of his blows. 
The 
magistrado was hanging heavily from the thongs now. Unconsciousness had come to him 
with about the fifteenth blow, more through fear than through pain and punishment. “Unfasten the 
man,” the highwayman ordered. Two men sprang forward to do his bidding. “Carry him to his 
house,” Señor Zorro went on. “And tell the people of the pueblo that this is the manner in which 
Señor Zorro punishes those who oppress the poor and helpless, who give unjust verdicts, and who 
steal in the name of the law. Go your ways.” 
The 
magistrado was carried away, groaning, consciousness returning to him now. Señor Zorro 
turned once more to the landlord. 
“We shall return to the tavern,” he said. “You will go inside and fetch me a mug of wine, and 
stand beside my horse while I drink it. It would be only a waste of breath for me to say what will 
happen to you if you attempt treachery on the way.” 
But there was fear of the 
magistrado in the landlord’s heart as great as his fear of Señor Zorro. 
He went back to the tavern beside the highwayman’s horse, and he hurried inside as if to get the 
wine. But he sounded the alarm. 
“Señor Zorro is without,” he hissed at those nearest the table. “He has just caused the 
magistrado to be whipped cruelly. He has sent me to get him a mug of wine.” 
Then he went on to the wine cask and began drawing the drink slowly as possible. 

---

There was sudden activity inside the tavern. Some half-dozen caballeros were there, men who 
followed in the footsteps of the governor. Now they drew their blades and began creeping toward 
the door, and one of them who possessed a pistol and had it in his sash, drew it out, saw that it was 
prepared for work, and followed in their wake. 
Señor Zorro, sitting his horse some twenty feet from the door of the tavern, suddenly beheld a 
throng rush out at him, saw the light flash from half a dozen blades, heard the report of a pistol, 
and heard a ball whistle past his head. 
The landlord was standing in the doorway, praying that the highwayman would be captured, for 
then he would be given some credit, and perhaps the 
magistrado would not punish him for having 
used the lash. 
Señor Zorro caused his horse to rear high in the air, and then raked the beast with the spurs. 
The animal sprang forward, into the midst of the caballeros, scattering them. 
That was what Señor Zorro wanted. His blade already was out of its scabbard, and it passed 
through a man’s sword arm, swung over and drew blood on another. 
He fenced like a maniac, maneuvering his horse to keep his antagonists separated, so that only 
one could get at him at a time. Now the air was filled with shrieks and cries, and men came 
tumbling from the houses to ascertain the cause of the commotion. Señor Zorro knew that some 
of them would have pistols, and while he feared no blade, he realized that a man could stand some 
distance away and cut him down with a pistol ball. 
So he caused his horse to plunge forward again, and before the fat landlord realized it, Señor 
Zorro was beside him and had reached down and grasped him by the arm. The horse darted away, 
the fat landlord dragging, shrieking for rescue and begging for mercy in the same breath. Señor 
Zorro rode with him to the whipping-post. 
“Hand me that whip,” he commanded. 
The shrieking landlord obeyed, and called upon the saints to protect him. And then Señor 
Zorro turned him loose, and curled the whip around his fat middle, and as the landlord tried to 
run he cut at him again and again. He left him once to charge down upon those who had blades 
and so scatter them, and then he was back with the landlord again, applying the whip. 
“You tried treachery!” he cried. “Dog of a thief! You would send men about my ears, eh? I’ll 
strip your tough hide—” 
“Mercy!” the landlord shrieked, and fell to the ground. 
Señor Zorro cut at him again, bringing forth a yell more than blood. He wheeled his horse and 
darted at the nearest of his foes. Another pistol ball whistled past his head, another man sprang at 
him with blade ready. Señor Zorro ran the man neatly through the shoulder and put spurs to his 
horse again. He galloped as far as the whipping-post, and there he stopped his horse and faced 
them for an instant. 
“There are not enough of you to make a fight interesting, señores!” he cried. 
He swept off his sombrero and bowed to them in nice mockery, and then he wheeled his 
horse again and dashed away. 
CHAPTER XXIV 
At the Hacienda of Don Alejandro 
BEHIND HIM HE LEFT a tumult in the town. The shrieks of the fat landlord had aroused the 
pueblo. Men came running, servants hurrying at their sides and carrying torches. Women peered 

---

from the windows of the houses. Natives stood still wherever they happened to be and shivered, 
for it had been their dear experience that whenever there was a tumult natives paid the price. 
Many young caballeros of hot blood were there, and for some time there had been no 
excitement in the pueblo of Reina de Los Angeles. These young men crowded into the tavern and 
listened to the wails of the landlord, and some hurried to the house of the 
magistrado and saw his 
wounds, and heard him declaim on the indignity that had been offered the law, and therefore his 
excellency the governor. 
Captain Ramón came down from the presidio, and when he heard the cause of the tumult he 
swore great oaths, and sent his only well man to ride along the Pala Road, overtake Sergeant 
Gonzales and his troopers, and bid them return and take the trail, since at the time being they were 
following a false scent. 
But the young caballeros saw in this circumstance a chance for excitement that was to their 
liking, and they asked permission of the comandante to form a posse and take after the 
highwayman, a permission they received immediately. 
Some thirty of them mounted horses, looked to weapons, and set out, with the intention of 
dividing into three bands of ten each when they came to forks in the trail. 
The townsmen cheered them as they started, and they galloped rapidly up the hill and toward 
the San Gabriel road, making a deal of noise, glad that now there was a moon to let them see the 
foe when they approached him. 
In time they separated, ten going toward San Gabriel proper, ten taking the trail that led to the 
hacienda of Fray Felipe, and the last ten following a road that curved down the valley to the 
neighborhood of a series of landed estates owned by wealthy dons of the day. 
Along this road, Don Diego Vega had ridden some time before, the deaf-and-dumb Bernardo 
behind him on the mule. Don Diego rode with leisure, and it was long after nightfall when he 
turned from the main road and followed a narrower one toward his father’s house. 
Don Alejandro Vega, the head of the family, sat alone at his table, the remains of the evening 
meal before him, when he heard a horseman before the door. A servant ran to open it, and Don 
Diego entered, Bernardo following close behind him. 
“Ah, Diego, my son!” the old don cried, extending his arms. 
Don Diego was clasped for an instant to his father’s breast, and then he sat down beside the 
table and grasped a mug of wine. Having refreshed himself, he faced Don Alejandro once more. 
“It has been a fatiguing journey,” he remarked. 
“And the cause for it, my son?” 
“I felt that I should come to the hacienda,” Don Diego said. “It is no time to be in the pueblo. 
Wherever a man turns, he finds nought but violence and bloodshed. This confounded Señor 
Zorro—” 
“Ha! What of him?” 
“Please do not ‘Ha!’ me, sir and father. I have been ‘Ha’d!’ at from morning until night these 
several days. These be turbulent times. 
“This Señor Zorro has made a visit to the Pulido hacienda and frightened everyone there. I 
went to my hacienda on business, and from there I went over to see old Fray Felipe, thinking I 
might get a chance to meditate in his presence. And who makes an appearance but a big sergeant 
and his troopers seeking this Señor Zorro.” 
“They caught him?” 
“I believe not, sir and father. I returned to the pueblo; and what think you happened there this 
day? They brought in Fray Felipe, accused of having swindled a dealer, and after a mockery of a 
trial they lashed him to a post and gave him the whip fifteen times across his back.” 

---

“The scoundrels!” Don Alejandro cried. 
“I could stand it no longer, and so I decided to pay you a visit. Wherever I turn there is 
turmoil. It is enough to make a man insane. You may ask Bernardo if it is not.” 
Don Alejandro glanced at the deaf-and-dumb native and grinned. Bernardo grinned back as a 
matter of course, not knowing it was no manner in which to act in the presence of a don. 
“You have something else to tell me?” Don Alejandro asked his son, looking at him 
searchingly. 
“By the saints! Now it comes. I had hoped to avoid it, father and sir.” 
“Let me hear about it.” 
“I paid a visit to the Pulido hacienda and spoke with Don Carlos and his wife, also the Señorita 
Lolita.” 
“You were pleased with the señorita?” 
“She is as lovely as any girl of my acquaintance,” Don Diego said. “I spoke to Don Carlos of 
the matter of marriage, and he appeared to be delighted.” 
“Ah! He would be,” said Don Alejandro. 
“But the marriage cannot take place, I fear.” 
“How is this? There is some shadow concerning the señorita?” 
“Not to my knowledge. She appears to be a sweet and innocent maiden, father and sir. I had 
them come to Reina de Los Angeles and spend a couple of days at my house. I had it arranged so 
that she could see the furnishings, and learn of my wealth.” 
“That was a wise arrangement, my son.” 
“But she will have none of me.” 
“How is this? Refuses to wed with a Vega? Refuses to become allied to the most powerful 
family in the country, with the best blood in the land?” 
“She intimated, father and sir, that I am not the sort of man for her. She is prone to 
foolishness, I believe. She would have me play a guitar under her window, perhaps, and make 
eyes, and hold hands when her duenna is not looking, and all that silliness.” 
“By the saints! Are you a Vega?” Don Alejandro cried. “Would not any worthy man want a 
chance like that? Would not any caballero delight to serenade his love on a moonlight night? The 
little things you term silly are the very essence of love. I doubt not the señorita was displeased with 
you.” 
“But I did not see that such things were necessary,” Don Diego said. 
“Did you go to the señorita in a cold-blooded manner and suggest that you wed and have it 
done with? Had you the idea, young sir, that you were purchasing a horse or a bull? By the saints! 
And so there is no chance for you to wed the girl? She has the best blood by far, next to our own.” 
“Don Carlos bade me have hope,” Diego replied. “He took her back to the hacienda, and 
suggested that perhaps when she had been there a time and had reflected she might change her 
mind.” 
“She is yours, if you play the game,” Don Alejandro said. “You are a Vega, and therefore the 
best catch in the country. Be but half a lover, and the señorita is yours. What sort of blood is in 
your veins? I have half a mind to slit one of them and see.” 
“Cannot we allow this marriage business to drop for the time being?” Don Diego asked. 
“You are twenty-five. I was quite old when you were born. Soon I shall go the way of my 
fathers. You are the only son, the heir, and you must have a wife and offspring. Is the Vega family 
to die out because your blood is water? Win you wife within the quarter-year, young sir, and a wife 
I can accept into the family, or I leave my wealth to the Franciscans when I pass away.” 
“My father!” 

---

“I mean it. Get life into you! I would you had half the courage and spirit this Señor Zorro, this 
highwayman, has! He has principles and he fights for them. He aids the helpless and avenges the 
oppressed. 
“I salute him! I would rather have you, my son, in his place, running the risk of death or 
imprisonment, than to have you a lifeless dreamer of dreams that amount to nought!” 
“My father! I have been a dutiful son.” 
“I would you had been a little wild—it would have been more natural.” Don Alejandro sighed. 
“I could overlook a few escapades more easily than I can lifelessness. Arouse yourself, young sir! 
Remember that you are a Vega. 
“When I was your age, I was not a laughingstock. I was ready to fight at a wink, to make love to 
every pair of flashing eyes, to stand up to any caballero in sports rough or refined. Ha!” 
“I pray you, do not ‘Ha!’ me, sir and father. My nerves are on edge.” 
“You must be more of a man.” 
“I shall attempt it immediately,” Don Diego said, straightening himself somewhat in his chair. 
“I had hoped to avoid it, but it appears that I cannot. I shall woo the Señorita Lolita as other men 
woo maidens. You meant what you said about your fortune?” 
“I did,” said Don Alejandro. 
“Then I must bestir myself. It would never do, of course, to let that fortune go out of the 
family. I shall think these matters over in peace and quiet tonight. Perhaps I can meditate here, far 
from the pueblo. By the saints!” 
The last exclamation was caused by a sudden tumult outside the house. Don Alejandro and his 
son heard a number of horsemen stop, heard their calls to one another, heard bridles jingling and 
blades rattling. 
“There is no peace in all the world,” Don Diego said with deepened gloom. 
“It sounds like half a score of men,” Don Alejandro said. 
It was—exactly. A servant opened the door, and into the great room there strode ten caballeros, 
with blades at their sides and pistols in their belts. 
“Ha, Don Alejandro! We crave hospitality!” the foremost cried. 
“You have it without asking, caballeros. What manner of journey is this you take?” 
“We pursue Señor Zorro, the highwayman.” 
“By the saints!” Don Diego cried. “One cannot escape it even here. Violence and bloodshed!” 
“He invaded the plaza at Reina de Los Angeles,” the spokesman went on. “He had the 
magistrado whipped because he sentenced Fray Felipe to receive the lash, and he whipped the fat 
landlord, and he fought half a score of men while he was about it. Then he rode away, and we 
made up a band to pursue him. He has not been in this neighborhood?” 
“Not to my knowledge,” Don Alejandro said. “My son arrived off the highway but a short time 
ago.” 
“You did not see the fellow, Don Diego?” 
“I did not,” Don Diego said. “That is one stroke of good fortune that came my way.” 
Don Alejandro had sent for servants, and now wine mugs were on the long table, and heaps of 
small cakes, and the caballeros began to eat and drink. Don Diego knew well what that meant. 
Their pursuit of the highwayman was at an end, their enthusiasm had waned. They would sit at his 
father’s table and drink throughout the night, gradually getting intoxicated, shout and sing and tell 
stories, and in the morning ride back to Reina de Los Angeles like so many heroes. 
It was the custom. The chase of Señor Zorro was but a pretext for a merry time. 
The servants brought great stone jugs filled with rare wine and put them on the table, and Don 
Alejandro ordered that meat be fetched also. The young caballeros had a weakness for these 

---

parties at Don Alejandro’s, for the don’s good wife had been dead for several years, and there were 
no womenfolk except servants, and so they could make what noise they pleased throughout the 
night. 
In time they put aside pistols and blades, and began to boast and brag, and Don Alejandro had 
his servants put the weapons in a far corner out of the way, for he did not wish a drunken quarrel, 
with a dead caballero or two in his house. 
Don Diego drank and talked with them for a time, and then sat to one side and listened, as if 
such foolishness bored him. 
“It were well for this Señor Zorro that we did not catch up with him,” one cried. “Any one of 
us is a match for the fellow. Were the soldiers men of merit he would have been taken long before 
this.” 
“Ha, for a chance at him!” another screeched. “How the landlord did howl when he was 
whipped!” 
“He rode in this direction?” Don Alejandro asked. 
“We are not sure as to that. He took the San Gabriel trail, and thirty of us followed. We 
separated into three bands, each going a different direction. It is the good fortune of one of the 
other bands to have him now, I suppose. But it is our excellent good fortune to be here.” 
Don Diego stood before the company. 
“Señores, you will pardon me, I know, if I retire,” he said. “I am fatigued with the journey.” 
“Retire, by all means,” one of his friends cried. “And when you are rested, come out to us 
again and make merry.” 
They laughed at that; and Don Diego bowed ceremoniously, and observed that several scarcely 
could get to their feet to bow in return; and then the scion of the house of Vega hurried from the 
room with the deaf-and-dumb man at his heels. 
He entered a room that always was ready for him, and in which a candle already was burning, 
and closed the door behind him, and Bernardo stretched his big form on the floor just outside it, 
to guard his master during the night. 
In the great living-room, Don Diego scarcely was missed. His father was frowning and twisting 
his mustache, for he would have had his son like other young men. In his youth, he was 
remembering, he never left such a company early in the evening. And once again he sighed and 
wished that the saints had given him a son with red blood in his veins. 
The caballeros were singing now, joining in the chorus of a popular love song, and their 
discordant voices filled the big room. Don Alejandro smiled as he listened, for it brought his own 
youth back to him. 
They sprawled on chairs and benches on both sides of the long table, pounding it with their 
mugs as they sang, laughing boisterously now and then. 
“Were this Señor Zorro only here now!” one of them cried.
A voice from the doorway answered him. 
“Señores, he is here!” 
CHAPTER XXV 
A League Is Formed 
THE SONG CEASED; THE LAUGHTER WAS stilled. They blinked their eyes and looked 
across the room. Señor Zorro stood just inside the door, having entered from the veranda without 

---

them knowing it. He wore his long cloak and his mask, and in one hand he held his accursed 
pistol, and its muzzle was pointed at the table. 
“So these are the manner of men who pursue Señor Zorro and hope to take him,” he said. 
“Make not a move, else lead flies. Your weapons, I perceive, are in the corner. I could kill some of 
you and be gone before you could reach them.” 
“’Tis he! ’Tis he!” a tipsy caballero was crying. 
“Your noise may be heard a mile away, señores. What a posse to go pursuing a man! Is this the 
way you attend to duty? Why have you stopped to make merry while Señor Zorro rides the 
highway?” 
“Give me my blade and let me stand before him!” one cried. 
“If I allowed you to have blade, you would be unable to stand,” the highwayman answered. 
“Think you there is one in this company who could fence with me now?” 
“There is one!” cried Don Alejandro, in a loud voice, springing to his feet. “I openly say that I 
have admired some of the things you have done, señor; but now you have entered my house and 
are abusing my guests, and I must call you to account!” 
“I have no quarrel with you, Don Alejandro, and you have none with me,” Señor Zorro said. 
“I refuse to cross blades with you. And I am but telling these men some truths.” 
“By the saints, I shall make you!” 
“A moment, Don Alejandro! Señores, this aged don would fight me, and that would mean a 
wound or death for him. Will you allow it?” 
“Don Alejandro must not fight our battles!” one of them cried. 
“Then see that he sits in his place, and all honor to him.” 
Don Alejandro started forward, but two of the caballeros sprang before him and urged him to 
go back, saying that his honor was safe, since he offered combat. Raging, Don Alejandro complied. 
“A worthy bunch of young blades,” Señor Zorro sneered. “You drink wine and make merry 
while injustice is all about you. Take your swords in hand and attack oppression! Live up to your 
noble names and your blue blood, señores! Drive the thieving politicians from the land! Protect 
the 
frailes whose work gave us these broad acres! Be men, not drunken fashion plates!” 
“By the saints!” one cried and sprang to his feet. 
“Back, or I fire! I have not come here to fight you in Don Alejandro’s house. I respect him too 
much for that. I have come to tell you these truths concerning yourselves. 
“Your families can make or break a governor! Band yourselves together in a good cause, 
caballeros, and make some use of your lives. You would do it, were you not afraid. You seek 
adventure? Here is adventure a plenty, fighting injustice.” 
“By the saints, it would be a lark!” cried one in answer. 
“Look upon it as a lark if it pleases you, yet you would be doing some good. Would the 
politicians dare stand against you, scions of the most powerful families? Band yourselves together 
and give yourselves a name. Make yourselves feared the length and breadth of the land.” 
“It would be treason—” 
“It is not treason to down a tyrant, caballeros! Is it that you are afraid?” 
“By the saints—no!” they cried in chorus. 
“Then make your stand!” 
“You would lead us?” 
“Si
, señores!” 
“But stay! Are you of good blood?” 
“I am a caballero, of blood as good as any here,” Señor Zorro told them. 
“Your name? Where resides your family?” 

---

“Those things must remain secrets for the present. I have given you my word.” 
“Your face—” 
“Must remain masked for the time being, señores.” They had lurched to their feet now, and 
were acclaiming him wildly. 
“Stay!” one cried. “This is an imposition upon Don Alejandro. He may not be in sympathy, 
and we are planning and plotting in his house—” 
“I am in sympathy, caballeros, and give you my support,” Don Alejandro said. 
Their cheers filled the great room. None could stand against them if Don Alejandro Vega was 
with them. Not even the governor himself would dare oppose them. 
“It is a bargain!” they cried. “We shall call ourselves the Avengers! We shall ride El Camino 
Real and prove terrors to those who rob honest men and mistreat natives! We shall drive the 
thieving politicians out!” 
“And then you shall be caballeros in truth, knights protecting the weak,” Señor Zorro said. 
“Never shall you repent this decision, señores! I lead, and I give you loyalty and expect as much. 
Also, I expect obedience to orders.” 
“What shall we do?” they cried. 
“Let this remain a secret. In the morning return to Reina de Los Angeles and say you did not 
find Señor Zorro—say rather that you did not catch him, which will be the truth. Be ready to band 
yourselves together and ride. I shall send word when the time arrives.” 
“In what manner?” 
“I know you all. I shall get word to one, and he can inform the others. It is agreed?” 
“Agreed!” they shouted. 
“Then I will leave you here and now. You are to remain in this room, and none is to try to 
follow me. It is a command. 
Buenos noches, caballeros!” He bowed before them, swung the door 
open, and darted through it and slammed it shut behind him. 
They could hear the clatter of a horse’s hoofs on the driveway. And then they raised their wine 
mugs and drank to their new league for the suppression of swindlers and thieves and to Señor 
Zorro, the Curse of Capistrano, and to Don Alejandro Vega, somewhat sobered by the agreement 
they had made and what it meant. They sat down again and began speaking of wrongs that should 
be righted, each of them knowing half a dozen. 
And Don Alejandro Vega sat in one corner, by himself, a grief-stricken man because his only 
son was asleep in the house and had not red blood enough to take a part in such an undertaking, 
when by all rights he should be one of the leaders. 
As if to add to his misery, Don Diego at that moment came slowly into the room, rubbing his 
eyes and yawning and looking as if he had been disturbed. 
“It is impossible for a man to sleep in this house tonight,” he said. “Give me a mug of wine, 
and I shall take my place with you. Why was the cheering?” 
“Señor Zorro has been here—” his father began. 
“The highwayman? Been here? By the saints! It is as much as a man can endure.” 
“Sit down, my son,” Don Alejandro urged. “Certain things have come to pass. There will be a 
chance now for you to show what sort of blood flows in your veins.” 
Don Alejandro’s manner was very determined. 

---

CHAPTER XXVI 
An Understanding 
THE REMAINDER OF THE NIGHT WAS spent by the caballeros in loud boasts of what they 
intended doing, and in making plans to be submitted to Señor Zorro for his approval; and, though 
they appeared to look upon this thing as a lark and a means to adventure, yet there was an 
undercurrent of seriousness in their manner. For they knew well the state of the times and realized 
that things were not as they should be, and in reality they were exponents of fairness to all; they had 
thought of these things often, but had made no move because they had not been banded together 
and had no leader, and each young caballero waited for another to start the thing. But now this 
Señor Zorro had struck at the psychological moment, and things could be done. 
Don Diego was informed of the state of affairs, and his father informed him, likewise, that he 
was to play a part and prove himself a man. Don Diego fumed considerably and declared that such 
a thing would cause his death, yet he would do it for his father’s sake. 
Early in the morning the caballeros ate a meal that Don Alejandro caused to be prepared, and 
then they started back to Reina de Los Angeles, Don Diego riding with them at his father’s order. 
Nothing was to be said about their plans. They were to get recruits from the remainder of the thirty 
who had set out in pursuit of Señor Zorro. Some would join them readily, they knew, while others 
were the governor’s men pure and simple, and would have to be kept in the dark concerning the 
thing contemplated. 
They rode leisurely, for which Don Diego remarked that he was grateful. Bernardo was still 
following him on the mule, and was a little chagrined because Don Diego had not remained longer 
at his father’s house. Bernardo knew something momentous was being planned, but could not 
guess what, of course, and wished that he was like other men, and could hear and speak. 
When they reached the plaza, they found that the other two parties already were there, saying 
that they had not come up with the highwayman. Some declared that they had seen him in the 
distance, and one that he had fired a pistol at him, at which the caballeros who had been at Don 
Alejandro’s put their tongues in their cheeks and looked at one another in a peculiar manner. 
Don Diego left his companions and hurried to his house, where he donned fresh clothing and 
refreshed himself generally. He sent Bernardo about his business, which was to sit in the kitchen 
and await his master’s call. And then he ordered his carriage around. That carriage was one of the 
most gorgeous along El Camino Real, and why Don Diego had purchased it had always been a 
mystery. There were some who said he did it to show his wealth, while others declared a 
manufacturer’s agent had worried him so much that Don Diego had given him the order to be rid 
of him. 
Don Diego came from his house dressed in his best; but he did not get into the carriage. Again 
there was a tumult in the plaza, and into it rode Sergeant Pedro Gonzales and his troopers. The 
man Captain Ramón had sent after them had over-taken them easily, for they had been riding 
slowly and had not covered many miles. 
“Ha, Don Diego, my friend!” Gonzales cried. “Still living in this turbulent world?” 
“From necessity,” Don Diego replied. “Did you capture this Señor Zorro?” 
“The pretty bird escaped us, caballero. It appears that he turned toward San Gabriel that night, 
while we went chasing him toward Pala. Ah, well, ’Tis nothing to make a small mistake. Our 
revenge shall be the greater when we find him.” 
“What do you now, my sergeant?” 
“My men refresh themselves, and then we ride toward San Gabriel. It is said the highwayman is 
in that vicinity, though some thirty young men of blood failed to find him last night after he had 

---

caused the 
magistrado to be whipped. No doubt he hid himself in the brush and chuckled when 
the caballeros rode by.” 
“May your horse have speed and your sword arm strength,” Don Diego said and got into his 
carriage. 
Two magnificent horses were hitched to the carriage, and a native coachman in rich livery 
drove them. Don Diego stretched back on the cushions and half closed his eyes as the carriage 
started. The driver went across the plaza and turned into the highway and started toward the 
hacienda of Don Carlos Pulido. 
Sitting on his veranda, Don Carlos saw the gorgeous carriage approaching, and growled low 
down in his throat, and then got up and hurried into the house, to face his wife and daughter. 
“Señorita, Don Diego comes,” he said. “I have spoken words regarding the young man, and I 
trust that you have given heed to them as a dutiful daughter should.” 
Then he turned and went out to the veranda again, and the señorita rushed into her room and 
threw herself upon a couch to weep. The saints knew she wished that she could feel some love for 
Don Diego and take him for a husband, for it would help her father’s fortunes, yet she felt that she 
could not. 
Why did not the man act the caballero? Why did he not exhibit a certain measure of common 
sense? Why did he not show that he was a young man bursting with health, instead of acting like an 
aged don with one foot in the grave? 
Don Diego got from the carriage and waved to the driver to continue to the stable yard. He 
greeted Don Carlos languidly, and Don Carlos was surprised to note that Don Diego had a guitar 
beneath one arm. He put the guitar down on the floor, removed his sombrero, and sighed. 
“I have been out to see my father,” he said. 
“Ha! Don Alejandro is well, I hope?” 
“He is in excellent health, as usual. He has instructed me to persist in my suit for the Señorita 
Lolita’s hand. If I do not win me a wife within a certain time, he says, he will give his fortune to the 
Franciscans when he passes away.” 
“Indeed?” 
“He said it, and my father is not a man to waste his words. Don Carlos, I must win the señorita. 
I know of no other young woman who would be as acceptable to my father as a daughter-in-law.” 
“A little wooing, Don Diego, I beg of you. Be not so matter-of-fact, I pray.” 
“I have decided to woo as other men, though it no doubt will be much of a bore. How would 
you suggest that I start?” 
“It is difficult to give advice in such a case,” Don Carlos replied, trying desperately to 
remember how he had done it when he had courted Doña Catalina. “A man really should be 
experienced, else be a man to whom such things come naturally.” 
“I fear I am neither,” Don Diego said, sighing again and raising tired eyes to Don Carlos’s face. 
“It might be an excellent thing to regard the señorita as if you adored her. Say nothing about 
marriage at first, but speak rather of love. Try to talk in low, rich tones, and say those meaningless 
nothings in which a young woman can find a world of meaning. ’Tis a gentle art—saying one thing 
and meaning another.” 
“I fear that it is beyond me,” Don Diego said. “Yet I must try, of course. I may see the señorita 
now?” 
Don Carlos went to the doorway and called his wife and daughter, and the former smiled upon 
Don Diego in encouragement, and the latter smiled also, yet with fear and trembling. For she had 
given her heart to the unknown Señor Zorro, and could love no other man, and could not wed 
where she did not love, not even to save her father from poverty. 

---

Don Diego conducted the señorita to a bench at one end of the veranda, and started to talk of 
things in general, plucking at the strings of his guitar as he did so, while Don Carlos and his wife 
removed themselves to the other end of the veranda and hoped that things would go well. 
Señorita Lolita was glad that Don Diego did not speak of marriage as he had done before. 
Instead, he told of what had happened in the pueblo, of Fray Felipe’s whipping, and of how Señor 
Zorro had punished the 
magistrado, and fought a dozen men, and made his escape. Despite his air 
of languor, Don Diego spoke in an interesting manner, and the señorita found herself liking him 
more than before. 
He told, too, of how he had gone to his father’s hacienda, and of how the caballeros had spent 
the night there, drinking and making merry; but he said nothing of Señor Zorro’s visit and the 
league that had been formed, having taken his oath not to do so. 
“My father threatens to disinherit me if I do not get my wife within a specified time,” Don 
Diego said then. “Would you like to see me lose my father’s estate, señorita?” 
“Certainly not,” she replied. “There are many girls who would be proud to wed you, Don 
Diego.” 
“But not you?” 
“Certainly, I would be proud. But can a girl help it if her heart does not speak? Would you 
wish a wife who did not love you? Think of the long years you would have to spend beside her, 
and no love to make them endurable.” 
“You do not think, then, that you ever could learn to love me, señorita?” 
Suddenly the girl faced him and spoke in lower tones, and earnestly. 
“You are a caballero of the blood, señor. I may trust you?” 
“To death, señorita.” 
“Then I have something to tell you. And I ask that you let it remain your secret. It is an 
explanation in a way.” 
“Proceed, señorita.” 
“If my heart bade me do so, nothing would please me more than to become your wife, señor, 
for I know that it would mend my father’s fortunes. But perhaps I am too honest to wed where I 
do not love. There is one great reason why I cannot love you.” 
“There is some other man in your heart?” 
“You have guessed it, señor. My heart is filled with his image. You would not want me for wife 
in such case. My parents do not know. You must keep my secret. I swear by the saints that I have 
spoken the truth.” 
“The man is worthy?” 
“I feel sure that he is, caballero. Did he prove to be otherwise, I should grieve my life away, yet 
I never could love another man. You understand now?” 
“I understand fully, señorita. May I express the hope that you will find him worthy and in time 
the man of your choice?” 
“I knew you would be the true caballero.” 
“And if things should go amiss, and you need a friend, command me, señorita.” 
“My father must not suspect at the present time. We must let him think that you still seek me, 
and I will pretend to be thinking more of you than before. And gradually you can cease your 
visits—” 
“I understand, señorita. Yet that leaves me in bad case. I have asked your father for permission 
to woo you, and if I go to wooing another girl now, I will have him about my ears in just anger. 
And if I do not woo another girl, I shall have my own father upbraiding me. It is a sorry state.” 
“Perhaps it will not be for long, señor.” 

---

“Ha! I have it! What does a man do when he is disappointed in love? He mopes, he pulls a 
long face, he refuses to partake of the actions and excitements of the times. Señorita, you have 
saved me in a way. I shall languish because you do not return my love. Then men will think they 
know the reason when I dream in the sun and meditate instead of riding and fighting like a fool. I 
shall be allowed to go my way in peace, and there shall be a romantic glamour cast about me. An 
excellent thought!” 
“Señor, you are incorrigible!” the Señorita Lolita exclaimed, laughing. 
Don Carlos and Doña Catalina heard that laugh, looked around, and then exchanged quick 
glances. Don Diego Vega was getting along famously with the señorita, they thought. 
Then Don Diego continued the deception by playing his guitar and singing a verse of a song 
that had to do with bright eyes and love. Don Carlos and his wife glanced at each other again, this 
time in apprehension, and wished that he would stop, for the scion of the Vegas had many 
superiors as musician and vocalist, and they feared that he might lose what ground he had gained 
in the señorita’s estimation. 
But if Lolita thought little of the caballero’s singing, she said nothing to that effect, and she did 
not act displeased. 
There was some more conversation, and just before the siesta hour Don Diego bade them 
buenos días and rode away in his gorgeous carriage. From the turn in the driveway, he waved back 
at them. 
CHAPTER XXVII 
Orders for Arrest 
CAPTAIN RAMÓN’s COURIER, SENT NORTH with the letter for the governor, had dreams 
of gay times in San Francisco de Asis before returning to his presidio at Reina de Los Angeles. He 
knew a certain señorita there whose beauty caused his heart to burn. 
So he rode like a fiend after leaving his comandante’s office, changed mounts at San Fernando 
and at a hacienda along the way, and galloped into Santa Barbara a certain evening just at dusk, 
with the intention of changing horses again, getting meat and bread and wine at the presidio, and 
rushing on his way. 
And at Santa Barbara his hopes of basking in the señorita’s smiles at San Francisco de Asis 
were cruelly shattered. For before the door of the presidio there was a gorgeous carriage that made 
Don Diego’s appear like a 
carreta, and a score of horses were tethered there, and more troopers 
than were stationed at Santa Barbara regularly moved about the highway, laughing and jesting with 
one another. 
The governor was in Santa Barbara. 
His excellency had left San Francisco de Asis some days before on a trip of inspection, and 
intended to go as far south as San Diego de Alcala, strengthening his political fences, rewarding his 
friends, and awarding punishment to his enemies. 
He had reached Santa Barbara an hour before, and was listening to the report of the 
comandante there, after which he intended remaining during the night with a friend. His troopers 
were to be given quarters at the presidio, of course, and the journey was to continue on the 
morrow. 
Captain Ramón’s courier had been told that the letter he carried was of the utmost importance, 
and so he hurried to the office of the comandante and entered it like a man of rank. 

---

“I come from Captain Ramón, comandante at Reina de Los Angeles, with a letter of 
importance for his excellency,” he reported, standing stiffly at salute. 
The governor grunted and took the letter, and the comandante motioned for the courier to 
withdraw. His excellency read the letter with speed, and when he had finished there was an unholy 
gleam in his eyes, and he twirled his mustache with every evidence of keen satisfaction. And then 
he read the letter again and frowned. 
He liked the thought that he could crush Don Carlos Pulido more, but he disliked to think that 
Señor Zorro, the man who had affronted him, was still at liberty. He got up and paced the floor for 
a time, and then whirled upon the comandante. 
“I shall leave for the south at sunrise,” he said. “My presence is urgently needed at Reina de 
Los Angeles. You will attend to things. Tell that courier he shall ride back with my escort. I go now 
to the house of my friend.” 
And so, in the morning, the governor started south, his escort of twenty picked troopers 
surrounding him, the courier in their midst. He traveled swiftly, and on a certain day at 
midmorning entered the plaza of Reina de Los Angeles unheralded. It was the same morning that 
Don Diego rode to the Pulido hacienda in his carriage, taking his guitar with him. 
The cavalcade stopped before the tavern, and the fat landlord almost suffered an apoplexy 
because he had not been warned of the governor’s coming and was afraid he would enter the inn 
and find it in a dirty state. 
But the governor made no effort to leave his carriage and enter the tavern. He was glancing 
around the square, observing many things. He never felt secure concerning the men of rank in this 
pueblo; he felt that he did not have the proper grip on them. 
Now he watched carefully as news of his arrival was spread and certain caballeros hurried to 
the plaza to greet him and make him welcome. He noted those who appeared to be sincere, 
observed those who were in no particular haste to salute him, and noticed that several were absent. 
Business must receive his first attention, he told them, and he must hasten up to the presidio. 
After that he would gladly be the guest of any of them. He accepted an invitation and ordered his 
driver to proceed. He was remembering Captain Ramón’s letter, and he had not seen Don Diego 
Vega in the plaza. 
Sergeant Gonzales and his men were away pursuing Señor Zorro, of course, and so Captain 
Ramón himself was awaiting his excellency at the presidio entrance, and saluted him gravely, and 
bowed low before him and ordered the commander of the escort to take charge of the place and 
police it, stationing guards in honor of the governor. 
He led his excellency to the private office, and the governor sat down. 
“What is the latest news?” he asked. 
“My men are on the trail, excellency. But, as I wrote, this pest of a Señor Zorro has friends—a 
legion of them, I take it. My sergeant has reported that twice he found him with a band of 
followers.” 
“They must be broken up, killed off!” the governor cried. “A man of that sort always can get 
followers, and yet more followers, until he will be so strong that he can cause us serious trouble. 
Has he committed any further atrocities?” 
“He has, excellency. Yesterday a 
fray from San Gabriel was whipped for swindling. Señor 
Zorro caught the witnesses against him on the highroad, and whipped them almost to death. And 
then he rode into the pueblo just at dusk and had the 
magistrado whipped. 
“My soldiers were away looking for him at the time. It appears that this Señor Zorro knows the 
movements of my force and always strikes where the troopers are not.” 
“Then spies are giving him warnings?” 

---

“It appears so, excellency. Last night some thirty young caballeros rode after him but did not 
find track of the scoundrel. They returned this morning.” 
“Was Don Diego Vega with them?” 
“He did not ride out with them, but he returned with them. It seems that they picked him up at 
his father’s hacienda. You perhaps guessed that I meant the Vegas in my letter. I am convinced 
now, your excellency, that my suspicions in that quarter were unjust. This Señor Zorro even 
invaded Don Diego’s house one night while Don Diego was away.” 
“How is this?” 
“But Don Carlos Pulido and his family were there.” 
“Ha! In Don Diego’s house? What is the meaning of that?” 
“It is amusing,” said Captain Ramón, laughing lightly. “I have heard that Don Alejandro 
ordered Don Diego to get him a wife. The young man is not the sort to woo women. He is 
lifeless.” 
“I know the man. Proceed.” 
“So he rides straightway to the hacienda of Don Carlos and asks permission to pay his 
addresses to Don Carlos’s only daughter. Señor Zorro was abroad, and Don Diego, going to his 
own hacienda on business, asked Don Carlos to come to the pueblo with his family, where it 
would be safer, and occupy his house until he returned. The Pulidos could not refuse, of course. 
And Señor Zorro, it appears, followed them.” 
“Ha! Go on.” 
“It is laughable that Don Diego fetched them here to escape Señor Zorro’s wrath, when, in 
reality, they are hand in glove with the highwayman. Remember, this Señor Zorro had been at the 
Pulido hacienda. We got word from a native, and almost caught him there. He had been eating a 
meal. He was hiding in a closet, and while I was alone there and my men searching the trails, he 
came from the closet, ran me through the shoulder from behind, and escaped.” 
“The low scoundrel!” the governor exclaimed. “But do you think there will be a marriage 
between Don Diego and the Señorita Pulido?” 
“I imagine there need be no worry in that regard, excellency. I am of the opinion that Don 
Diego’s father put a flea in his ear. He probably called Don Diego’s attention to the fact that Don 
Carlos does not stand very high with your excellency, and that there are daughters of other men 
who do. 
“At any rate, the Pulidos returned to their hacienda after Don Diego’s return. Don Diego 
called upon me here at the presidio and appeared to be anxious that I would not think him a man 
of treason.” 
“I am glad to hear it! The Vegas are powerful. They never have been my warm friends, yet 
never have they raised hands against me, so I cannot complain. It is good sense to keep them 
friendly, if that be possible. But these Pulidos—” 
“Even the señorita appears to be giving aid to this highwayman,” Captain Ramón said. “She 
boasted to me of what she called his courage. She sneered at the soldiers. Don Carlos Pulido and 
some of the 
frailes are protecting the man, giving him food and drink, hiding him, sending him 
news of the troopers’ whereabouts. The Pulidos are hindering our efforts to capture the rogue. I 
would have taken steps, but I thought it best to inform you and await your decision.” 
“There can be but one decision in such a case,” said the governor loftily. “No matter how good 
a man’s blood may be, or what his rank, he cannot be allowed to commit treason without suffering 
the consequences. I had thought that Don Carlos had learned his lesson, but it appears that he has 
not. Are any of your men in the presidio?” 
“Some who are ill, excellency.” 

---

“That courier of yours returned with my escort. Does he know the country well hereabouts?” 
“Certainly, excellency. He has been stationed here for some little time.” 
“Then he can act as guide. Send half my escort at once to the hacienda of Don Carlos Pulido. 
Have them arrest the don and fetch him to 
cárcel and incarcerate him there. That will be a blow to 
his high blood. I have had quite enough of these Pulidos.” 
“And the haughty Doña, who sneered at me, and the proud señorita who scorned the 
troopers?” 
“Ha! It is a good thought. It will teach a lesson to all in this locality. Have them fetched to 
cárcel and incarcerated also,” the governor said. 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
The Outrage
DON DIEGO’S CARRIAGE HAD just pulled up before his house when a squad of troopers 
went by it in a cloud of dust. He did not recognize any of them for men he had seen about the 
tavern. 
“Ha! There are new soldiers on the trail of Señor Zorro?” he asked a man standing near 
“They are a part of the escort of the governor, caballero.” 
“The governor is here?” 
“He arrived but a short time ago, caballero, and has gone to the presidio.” 
“I suppose they must have fresh news of this highwayman to send them riding furiously 
through dust and sun like that. He appears to be an elusive rascal. By the saints! Had I been here 
when the governor arrived, no doubt he would have put up at my house. Now some other 
caballero will have the honor of entertaining him. It is much to be regretted.” 
And then Don Diego went into the house, and the man who had heard him speak did not 
know whether to doubt the sincerity of that last remark. 
Led by the courier, who knew the way, the squad of troopers galloped swiftly along the 
highroad, and presently turned up the trail toward Don Carlos’s house. They went at this business 
as they would have gone about capturing a desperado. As they struck the driveway, they scattered 
to left and right, tearing up Doña Catalina’s flower beds and sending chickens squawking out of the 
way, and so surrounded the house in almost an instant of time. 
Don Carlos had been sitting on the veranda in his accustomed place, half in a doze, and he did 
not notice the advance of the troopers until he heard the beating of their horses’ hoofs. He got to 
his feet in alarm, wondering whether Señor Zorro was in the vicinity again and the soldiers after 
him. 
Three dismounted in a cloud of dust before the steps, and the sergeant who commanded them 
made his way forward, slapping the dust from his uniform. 
“You are Don Carlos Pulido?” he asked in a loud voice. 
“I have that honor, señor.” 
“I have orders to place you under military arrest.” 
“Arrest!” Don Carlos cried. “Who gave you such orders?” 
“His excellency, the governor. He now is in Reina de Los Angeles, señor.” 
“And the charge?” 
“Treason and aiding the enemies of the state.” 
“Preposterous!” Don Carlos cried. “I am accused of treason when, though the victim of 
oppression, I have withheld my hand against those in power? What are the particulars of the 

---

charges?” 
“You will have to ask the 
magistrado that, señor. I know nothing of the matter except that I am 
to arrest you.” 
“You wish me to accompany you?” 
“I demand it, señor.” 
“I am a man of blood, a caballero—” 
“I have my orders.” 
“So I cannot be trusted to appear at my place of trial? But perhaps the hearing is to be held 
immediately. So much the better, for all the quicker can I clear myself. We go to the presidio?” 
“I go to the presidio when this work is done. You go to 
cárcel,” the sergeant said. 
“To 
cárcel?” Don Carlos screeched. “You would dare? You would throw a caballero into the 
filthy jail? You would place him where they keep insubordinate natives and common felons?” 
“I have my orders, señor. You will prepare to accompany us at once.” 
“I must give my superintendent instructions regarding the management of the hacienda.” 
“I’ll go along with you, señor.” 
Don Carlos’s face flamed purple. His hands clenched as he regarded the sergeant. 
“Am I to be insulted with every word?” he cried. “Do you think I would run away like a 
criminal?” 
“I have my orders, señor,” the sergeant said. 
“At least I may break this news to my wife and daughter without an outsider being at my 
shoulder?” 
“Your wife is Doña Catalina Pulido?” 
“Certainly.” 
“I am ordered to arrest her also, señor.” 
“Scum!” Don Carlos cried. “You would put hands on a lady? You would remove her from her 
house?” 
“It is my orders. She, too, is charged with treason and with aiding the enemies of the state.” 
“By the saints! It is too much! I shall fight against you and your men as long as there is breath 
in my body!” 
“And that will not be for long, Don Carlos, if you attempt to give battle. I am but carrying out 
my orders.” 
“My beloved wife placed under arrest like a native wench! And on such a charge! What are 
you to do with her, sergeant?” 
“She goes to 
cárcel.” 
“My wife in that foul place? Is there no justice in the land? She is a tender lady of noble 
blood—” 
“Enough of this, señor. My orders are my orders, and I carry them out as instructed. I am a 
soldier and I obey.” 
Now Doña Catalina came running to the veranda, for she had been listening to the 
conversation just inside the door. Her face was white, but there was a look of pride in it. She feared 
Don Carlos might make an attack on the soldier, and she feared he would be wounded or slain if 
he did, and knew that at least it could only double the charge held against him. 
“You have heard?” Don Carlos asked. 
“I have heard, my husband. It is but more persecution. I am too proud to argue the point with 
these common soldiers, who are but doing as they have been commanded. A Pulido can be a 
Pulido, my husband, even in a foul 
cárcel.” 
“But the shame of it!” Don Carlos cried. “What does it all mean? Where will it end? And our 

---

daughter will be here alone with the servants. We have no relatives, no friends—” 
“Your daughter is Señorita Lolita Pulido?” the sergeant asked. “Then do not grieve, señor, for 
you will not be separated. I have an order for the arrest of your daughter, also.” 
“The charge?” 
“The same, señor.” 
“And you would take her—” 
“To 
cárcel.” 
“An innocent, high-born, gentle girl?” 
“My orders, señor,” said the sergeant. 
“May the saints blast the man who issued them!” Don Carlos cried. “They have taken my 
wealth and lands. They have heaped shame upon me and mine. But, thank the saints, they cannot 
break our pride!” 
And then Don Carlos’s head went erect, and his eyes flashed, and he took his wife by the arm 
and turned about to enter the house, with the sergeant at his heels. He broke the news to the 
Señorita Lolita, who stood as if stricken dumb for an instant, and then burst into a torrent of tears. 
And then the pride of the Pulidos came to her, and she dried her eyes, and curled her pretty lips 
with scorn at the big sergeant, and pulled aside her skirts when he stepped near. 
Servants brought the 
carreta before the door, and Don Carlos and his wife and daughter got 
into it, and the journey of shame to the pueblo began. 
Their hearts might be bursting with grief, but not one of the Pulidos showed it. Their heads 
were held high, they looked straight ahead, they pretended not to hear the low taunts of the 
soldiers. 
They passed others, who were crowded off the road by the troopers, and who looked with 
wonder at those in the 
carreta, but they did not speak. Some watched in sorrow, and some grinned 
at their plight, according to whether those who passed were of the governor’s party or of the honest 
folk who abhorred injustice. 
And so, finally, they came to the edge of Reina de Los Angeles, and there they met fresh insult. 
For his excellency had determined that the Pulidos should be humbled to the dust; and he had 
sent some of his troopers to spread news of what was being done, and to give coins to natives and 
peons if they would jeer the prisoners when they arrived. For the governor wished to teach a lesson 
that would prevent other noble families from turning against him, and wished it to appear that the 
Pulidos were hated by all classes alike. 
At the edge of the plaza they were met by the mob. There were cruel jeers and jests, some of 
which no innocent señorita should have heard. Don Carlos’s face was red with wrath, and there 
were tears in Doña Catalina’s eyes, and Señorita Lolita’s lips were trembling, but they gave no 
other sign that they heard. 
The drive around the plaza to the 
cárcel was made slow purposely. At the door of the inn there 
was a throng of rascals who had been drinking wine at the expense of the governor, and these 
added to the din. 
One man threw mud, and it splashed on Don Carlos’s breast, but he refused to notice it. He 
had one arm around his wife, the other around his daughter, as if to give them what protection he 
could, and he was looking straight ahead. 
There were some men of blood who witnessed the scene, yet took no part in the tumult. Some 
of them were as old as Don Carlos, and this thing brought to their hearts fresh, yet passive, hatred 
of the governor. 
And some were young, with the blood running hot in their veins, and they looked upon the 
suffering face of Doña Catalina and imagined her their own mother, and upon the lovely face of 

---

the señorita and imagined her their sister or betrothed. 
And some of these men glanced at one another furtively, and though they did not speak they 
were wondering the same thing—whether Señor Zorro would hear of this, and whether he would 
send word around for the members of the new league to gather. 
The 
carreta stopped before the cárcel finally, the mob of jeering natives and peons surrounding 
it. The soldiers made some pretense of holding them back, and the sergeant dismounted and 
forced Don Carlos and his wife and daughter to step to the ground. 
Uncouth and intoxicated men jostled them as they walked up the steps to the door. More mud 
was thrown, and some of it spattered upon Doña Catalina’s gown. But if the mob expected an 
outburst on the part of the aged caballero, it was disappointed. Don Carlos held his head high, ig-
noring those who were striving to torment him, and so led his ladies to the door. 
The sergeant beat against it with the heavy hilt of his sword. An aperture was opened, and in it 
appeared the evil, grinning face of the jailer. 
“What have we here?” he demanded. 
“Three prisoners charged with treason,” the sergeant replied. 
The door was thrown open. There came a last burst of jeers from the mob, and then the 
prisoners were inside, and the door had been closed and bolted again. 
The jailer led the way along an evil-smelling hall and threw open another door. 
“In with you,” he directed. 
The three prisoners were thrust inside, and this door was closed and barred. They blinked 
their eyes in the semi-gloom. Gradually they made out two windows, some benches, some human 
derelicts sprawled against the walls. 
They had not even been given the courtesy of a clean, private room. Don Carlos and his wife 
and daughter had been thrust in with the scum of the pueblo, with drunkards and thieves and 
dishonored women and insulting natives. 
They sat down on a bench in one corner of the room, as far from the others as possible. And 
then Doña Catalina and her daughter gave way to tears, and tears streamed down the face of the 
aged don as he tried to comfort them. 
“I would to the saints that Don Diego Vega were only my son-in-law now,” the don breathed. 
His daughter pressed his arm. 
“Perhaps—my father—a friend will come,” she whispered. “Perhaps the evil man who caused 
this suffering will be punished.” 
For it seemed to the señorita that a vision of Señor Zorro had appeared before her; and she 
had great faith in the man to whom she had given her love. 
CHAPTER XXIX 
Don Diego Feels Ill 
ONE HOUR AFTER DON CARLOS Pulido and his ladies had been incarcerated in the 
cárcel, 
Don Diego Vega, dressed most fastidiously, made his way slowly on foot up the slope to the 
presidio to make his call on his excellency, the governor. 
He walked with swinging stride, gazing both to right and left as if at the hills in the distance, and 
once he stopped to observe a blossom that bloomed beside the path. His rapier was at his side, his 
most fashionable one with its jeweled hilt, and in his right hand he carried a handkerchief of flimsy 
lace, which he wafted this way and that like a dandy, and now and then touched it to the tip of his 
nose. 

---

He bowed ceremoniously to two or three caballeros who passed him, but spoke to none 
beyond the necessary words of greeting, and they did not seek conversation with him. For, 
remembering that they had thought Don Diego Vega was courting the daughter of Don Carlos, 
they wondered how he would take the matter of her imprisonment along with her father and 
mother. They did not care to discuss the matter, for their own feelings were high, and they feared 
they might be betrayed into utterances that might be termed treasonable. 
Don Diego came to the front door of the presidio, and the sergeant in charge called the 
soldiers to attention, giving Vega the salute due his station in life. Don Diego answered it with a 
wave of his hand and a smile, and went on to the comandante’s office, where the governor was 
receiving such caballeros as cared to call and express their loyalty. 
He greeted his excellency with carefully chosen words, bowed over his hand, and then took the 
chair the governor was kind enough to indicate. 
“Don Diego Vega,” the governor said, “I am doubly glad that you have called upon me today, 
for in these times a man who holds high office would know his friends.” 
“I should have called sooner, but I was away from my house at the time you arrived,” Don 
Diego said. “You contemplate remaining long in Reina de Los Angeles, excellency?” 
“Until this highwayman, known as Señor Zorro, is either slain or taken,” the governor said. 
“By the saints! Am I never to hear the last of that rogue?” Don Diego cried. “I have heard of 
nothing else for these many days. I go to spend an evening with a 
fray, and in comes a crowd of 
soldiers chasing this Señor Zorro. I repair to the hacienda of my father to get me peace and quiet, 
and along comes a crowd of caballeros seeking news of Señor Zorro. These be turbulent times. A 
man whose nature inclines him to music and the poets has no right to exist in the present age.” 
“It desolates me that you have been annoyed,” the governor said, laughing. “But I hope to have 
the fellow soon, and so put an end to that particular annoyance. Captain Ramón has sent for his 
big sergeant and his troopers to return. I brought an escort of twenty. And so we have ample men 
to run down this Curse of Capistrano when next he makes his appearance.” 
“Let us hope it will end as it should,” said Don Diego. 
“A man in high office has many things with which to contend,” the governor went on. “Look at 
what I was forced to do this day. I am called upon to put in prison a man of good blood and his 
lady wife and tender daughter. But the state must be protected.” 
“I suppose you mean Don Carlos Pulido and his family?” 
“I do, caballero.” 
“Now that it is called to my mind again, I must say a few words regarding that,” Don Diego 
said. “I am not sure that my honor is not involved.” 
“Why, caballero, how can that be?” 
“My father has ordered that I get me a wife and set up my establishment properly. Some days 
ago I requested of Don Carlos Pulido permission to pay my addresses to his daughter.” 
“Ha! I understand. But you are not the betrothed of the young lady?” 
“Not yet, excellency.” 
“Then your honor is not involved, Don Diego, that I can see.” 
“But I have been paying court to her.” 
“You may thank the saints that it has gone no further, Don Diego. Think how it would look if 
you were allied with this family now. As for getting you a wife—come north with me to San 
Francisco de Asis, caballero, where the señoritas are far more lovely than here in your southland. 
“Look over those of good blood, and let me know your preference, and I’ll guarantee that the 
lady will listen to your suit and accept your hand and name. And I can guarantee, also, that she will 
be of a loyal family with which it will be no shame to make a contract. We shall get you a wife of 

---

the proper sort, caballero.” 
“If you will pardon me, is it not taking stern measures to have Don Carlos and his ladies 
thrown into the 
cárcel?” Don Diego asked, flicking dust from his sleeve. 
“I find it necessary, señor.” 
“Do you think it will add to your popularity, excellency?” 
“Whether it does or not, the state must be served.” 
“Men of good blood hate to see such a thing, and there may be murmurings,” Don Diego 
warned. “I should hate to see your excellency make a wrong step at this juncture.” 
“What would you have me do?” the governor asked. 
“Place Don Carlos and the ladies under arrest, if you will, but do not incarcerate them. It is 
unnecessary; they will not run away. Bring them to trial as gentle folk should be brought to trial.” 
“You are bold, caballero.” 
“By the saints, am I talking too much?” 
“It were better to leave these matters to the few of us who are trusted with attention to them,” 
the governor said. “I can understand, of course, how it irks a man of good blood to see a don 
thrown into a 
cárcel, and to see his ladies treated likewise, but in such a case as this—” 
“I have not heard the nature of the case,” Don Diego said. 
“Ha! Perhaps you may change your mind when you learn it. You have been speaking of this 
Señor Zorro. What if I tell you that the highwayman is being shielded and protected and fed by 
Don Carlos Pulido?” 
“That is astonishing!” 
“And that the Doña Catalina is a party to the treason? And that the lovely señorita has seen fit 
to talk treasonably and dip her pretty hands into a conspiracy against the state?” 
“This is past belief!” Don Diego cried. 
“Some nights ago Señor Zorro was at the Pulido hacienda. Warning was fetched the 
comandante by a native who is loyal. Don Carlos aided the bandit in tricking the soldiers, hid him 
in a closet, and when Captain Ramón was there alone, this highwayman stepped from the closet 
and attacked him treacherously and wounded him.” 
“By the saints!” 
“And while you were gone and the Pulidos were your house guests, señor, Señor Zorro was in 
your house, speaking to the señorita, when the comandante walked in upon them. And the 
señorita grasped Captain Ramón by the arm and annoyed him until this Señor Zorro had made 
good his escape.” 
“It is past comprehension!” Don Diego exclaimed. 
“Captain Ramón has placed before me a hundred such items of suspicion. Can you wonder 
now that I had them placed in 
cárcel? Did I merely have them put under arrest, this Señor Zorro 
would combine forces with them and aid them to escape.” 
“And your intentions, excellency?” 
“I shall keep them in 
cárcel while my troopers run down this highwayman. I shall force him to 
confess and implicate them—and then they shall have a trial.” 
“These turbulent times!” Don Diego complained. 
“As a loyal man—and I hope an admirer of mine—you should hope to see foes of the state 
confounded.” 
“I do. Most sincerely do I. All real foes of the state should receive punishment.” 
“I am joyed to hear you say that, caballero!” the governor cried, and he reached across the 
table and grasped Don Diego fervently by the hand. 
There was some more talk that amounted to nothing, and then Don Diego took his leave, for 

---

there were other men waiting to see the governor. After he had left the office the governor looked 
across at Captain Ramón and smiled. 
“You are right, comandante,” he said. “Such a man could not be a traitor. It would tire him too 
much to think treasonable thoughts. What a man! He must be enough to drive that old fire-eater 
of a father of his insane.” 
Don Diego made his way slowly down the hill, greeting those he passed, and stopping again to 
regard the little flowers that blossomed by the wayside. At the corner of the plaza he met a young 
caballero who was glad to call him friend, one of the small band of men who had spent the night at 
Don Alejandro’s hacienda. 
“Ha! Don Diego, a fair day to you!” he cried. And then he lowered his voice and stepped 
nearer. “Has, by any chance, the man we call leader of our league of avengers, sent you a message 
this day?” 
“By the bright blue sky—no!” Don Diego said. “Why should the man?” 
“This Pulido business. It seems an outrage. Some of us have been wondering whether our 
leader does not intend to take a hand in it. We have been anticipating a message.” 
“By the saints! Oh, I trust not,” Don Diego said. “I could not endure an adventure of any sort 
tonight. I—er—my head aches, and I fear I am going to have a fever. I shall have to see an 
apothecary about it. There are shiverings up and down my spine, also. Is not that a symptom? 
During the siesta hour I was bothered with a pain in my left leg just above the knee. It must be the 
weather.” 
“Let us hope that it will not result seriously.” His friend laughed and hurried on across the 
plaza. 
CHAPTER XXX 
The Sign of the Fox 
AN HOUR AFTER DUSK that night a native sought out one of the caballeros with the 
intelligence that a gentleman wished to speak to him immediately, and that this gentleman was 
evidently wealthy since he had given the native a coin for carrying the message, when he might just 
as well have given nothing more than a cuff alongside the head, also that the mysterious gentleman 
would be waiting along the path that ran toward the San Gabriel trail, and to be sure that the 
caballero would come he had bade the native say that there was a fox in the neighborhood. 
A fox! Zorro—-fox! the caballero thought, and then he ruined the native forever by giving him 
another coin. He went to the rendezvous immediately, and there he found Señor Zorro sitting his 
big horse, his face masked, the cloak wrapped around his body. 
“You will pass the word, caballero,” Señor Zorro said. I would have all men who are loyal and 
wish to do so, meet at midnight in the little valley beyond the hill. You know the place? Si? I shall 
be waiting.” 
Then Señor Zorro wheeled his horse and dashed away in the darkness, and the caballero went 
back to the pueblo and passed the word to those men he knew could be depended upon, and 
urged upon them that they pass it to others of the league. One went to Don Diego’s house, but was 
told by the 
despensero that Don Diego had complained of a fever and had retired to his chamber 
and had left word that he would flay alive any servant who dared enter the room unless he called. 
Near the hour of midnight the caballeros began slipping from the pueblo one at a time, each 
upon the back of his best horse, and each armed with sword and pistol. Each man had a mask that 

---

could be put over his features instantly, for that had been decided upon at Don Alejandro’s 
hacienda, among other things. 
The pueblo was in darkness, save that there were lights in the tavern, where some of his 
excellency’s escort made merry with the local troopers. For Sergeant Pedro Gonzales had returned 
with his men just before nightfall, glad to be back from a fruitless chase and hoping that the next 
scent would be warmer. 
Those in the tavern had gone down the hill from the presidio, some leaving their horses there 
without saddles or bridles on, and they had no thought of an encounter with Señor Zorro this 
night. The fat landlord was kept busy, for the soldiers from the north had coins in their purses and 
were willing to spend them. Sergeant Gonzales, holding the attention of the company as usual, was 
detailing at length what he would do to this Señor Zorro if the saints were kind enough to let them 
meet and grant him his blade in his hand. 
There were lights in the big lounging-room of the presidio, too, for few of the soldiers had 
retired. And there were lights in the house where his excellency was a guest, but the remainder of 
the pueblo was in darkness, and the people slept. 
In the 
cárcel there was no light at all except one candle burning in the office, where a sleepy 
man was on guard. The jailer was in his bed. Prisoners moaned on the hard benches in the prison 
room. Don Carlos Pulido stood before a window, looking up at the stars; and his wife and 
daughter huddled on a bench beside him, unable to sleep in such surroundings. 
The caballeros found Señor Zorro waiting for them as he had said he would be, but he 
remained aloof, speaking scarcely a word, until all were present. 
“Are all here?” he asked then. 
“All except Don Diego Vega,” one replied. “He is ill with a fever, señor.” 
And all the caballeros chuckled, for they had an idea the fever was caused by cowardice. 
“I take it that you know something of what is in my mind,” Señor Zorro said. “We know what 
has happened to Don Carlos Pulido and the ladies of his family. We know they are innocent of 
any treason, and were they not, they should not have been taken to 
cárcel and incarcerated with 
common felons and drunkards. 
“Think of those gentle ladies in such surroundings! Think of it—because Don Carlos has the ill 
will of the governor! Is it the sense of the league that something be done in this matter? If it is not, 
then will I do something by myself!” 
“Rescue them!” a caballero said; and the others growled their approval. Here was a chance for 
risk and adventure and an opportunity to do a good deed. 
“We must enter the pueblo quietly,” Señor Zorro said. “There is no moon, and we will not be 
observed if we use caution. We shall approach the 
cárcel from the south. Each man will have his 
task to do. 
“Some will surround the building to give notice if any approach it. Others must be ready to 
beat off the soldiers, if they respond to an alarm. Others will effect an entrance to the 
cárcel with 
me and rescue the prisoners.” 
“It is an excellent plan,” one said. 
“That is but a small part of it. Don Carlos is a proud man and, if given time for reflection, may 
refuse to be rescued. We cannot allow that. Certain ones will seize him and take him from the 
place. Others will attend to the Doña Catalina. I will undertake to care for the señorita. Now—we 
have them free. And then what?” 
He heard murmurs, but no distinct reply, and so he continued to outline the plan. 
“All will ride to the highway just below this place,” he said. “At that point we shall scatter. 
Those who have the Doña Catalina in charge will hasten with her to the hacienda of Don 

---

Alejandro Vega, where she can be hidden if necessary, and where the governor’s soldiers will 
hesitate before entering and seizing her. 
“Those who have Don Carlos in charge will take the road to Pala, and at a certain point some 
ten miles from this pueblo they will be met by two natives of understanding, who will give the sign 
of the fox. The natives will take Don Carlos in charge and care for him. 
“When these things are done, each caballero will ride to his home quietly and alone, telling 
what story pleases him and using great caution. I shall have conducted the señorita to a safe place 
by that time. She shall be given into the keeping of old Fray Felipe, a man we can trust, and he will 
hide her if he must. Then we will watch to see what the governor does.” 
“What can he do?” a caballero asked. “Have them searched for, of course.” 
“We must await developments,” Señor Zorro said. “Are all now ready?” 
They assured him that they were, and so he named the men for each task, and then they left 
the little valley and rode slowly and cautiously around the little town and approached it from the 
south. 
They heard the soldiers shouting and singing in the tavern, saw the lights in the presidio, and 
crept toward the 
cárcel quietly, riding two by two. 
In a short time it had been surrounded by quiet, determined men, and then Señor Zorro and 
four others dismounted and went to the door of the building. 
CHAPTER XXXI 
The Rescue 
SEÑOR ZORRO KNOCKED UPON the door with the hilt of his sword. They heard a man gasp 
inside, presently heard his steps on the stone flooring, and after a little time light showed through 
the cracks, and the aperture was opened, and the sleepy face of the guard appeared. 
“What is wanted?” he asked. 
Señor Zorro thrust the muzzle of his pistol through the aperture and into the man’s face, and 
in such fashion that the little door could not be closed. 
“Open, if you value your life! Open—and make not the slightest sound!” Señor Zorro 
commanded. 
“What—what is this?” 
“Señor Zorro is talking to you!” 
“By the saints—” 
“Open, fool, or you die instantly!” 
“I—I’ll open the door. Do not shoot, good Señor Zorro! I am only a poor guard and not a 
fighting man! I pray you do not shoot!” 
“Open quickly!” 
“As soon as I can fit key to lock, good Señor Zorro!” 
They heard him rattling the keys; presently one was turned in the lock, and the heavy door was 
thrown open. 
Señor Zorro and his four companions rushed inside and slammed and fastened the door 
again. The guard found the muzzle of a pistol pressed against the side of his head, and would have 
knelt before these five masked and terrible men, only one of them caught him by the hair and held 
him up. 
“Where sleeps the keeper of this infernal hole?” Señor Zorro demanded. 
“In yonder room, señor.” 

---

“And where have you put Don Carlos Pulido and his ladies?” 
“In the common prison room, señor.” 
Señor Zorro motioned to the others, strode across the room, and threw open the door to the 
jailer’s chamber. The man already was sitting up in bed, having heard the sounds in the other 
room, and he blinked in fright when he beheld the highwayman by the light of the candle. 
“Do not make a move, señor,” Zorro warned. “One screech, and you are a dead man. Señor 
Zorro confronts you.” 
“May the saints preserve me—” 
“Where are the keys to the prison rooms?” 
“On—on that table, señor.” 
Señor Zorro picked them up and then whirled upon the jailer again and rushed toward him. 
“Lie down!” he commanded. “On your face, scoundrel!” Señor Zorro tore strips from a 
blanket and bound the jailer’s hands and feet, and made a gag which he affixed. 
“To escape death,” he said then, “it is necessary for you to remain exactly as you are now, 
without making a sound, for some time after we have left the 
cárcel. I shall leave it to your own 
judgment to decide the length of time.” 
Then he hurried back into the main office, beckoned the others, and led the way down the 
evil-smelling hall. “Which door?” he asked of the guard. 
“The second one, señor.” 
They hurried to it, and Señor Zorro unlocked it and threw it open. He forced the guard to 
hold a candle high above his head. 
A gasp of pity came from beneath the highwayman’s mask He saw the aged don standing by 
the window, saw the two women crouched on the bench, saw the vile companions they had in this 
miserable place. 
“Now may Heaven forgive the governor!” he cried. Señorita Lolita looked up in alarm, and 
then gave a glad cry. Don Carlos whirled at the highwayman’s words. 
“Señor Zorro!” he gasped. 
“The same, Don Carlos. I have come with some friends to rescue you.” 
“I cannot allow it, señor. I shall not run away from what is in store for me. And it would avail 
me little to have you do the rescuing. I am accused now of harboring you, I understand. How will 
it look, then, if you effect my escape?” 
“There is no time for argument,” Señor Zorro said. “I am not alone in this, but have twenty-six 
men with me. And a man of your blood, and gentle ladies such as those of your family, shall not 
spend an entire night in this miserable hole if we can prevent it. Caballeros!” 
The last word was one of command. Two of the caballeros threw themselves upon Don 
Carlos, subdued him quickly, and half carried him into the hall and along it toward the office. Two 
others grasped the Doña Catalina by the arms, as gently as they could, and so carried her along. 
Señor Zorro bowed before the señorita and extended a hand, which she clasped gladly. 
“You must trust me, señorita,” he said. 
“To love is to trust, señor.” 
“All things have been arranged. Ask no questions, but do as I bid. Come.” 
He threw an arm around her, and so led her from the prison room, leaving the door open 
behind him. If some of the miserable wretches there could win through and out of the building, 
Señor Zorro had no wish to prevent them. More than half of them, he judged, were there because 
of prejudice or injustice. 
Don Carlos was causing an unearthly clamor, shouting that he refused to be rescued, and that 
he would stay and face the governor at the trial, and show the blood that was in him. Doña Catalina 

---

was whimpering a bit because of fright, but made no resistance. 
They reached the office, and Señor Zorro ordered the guard to a corner of it, with instructions 
to remain there quietly for some time after they had gone. And then one of the caballeros threw 
open the outside door. 
There was a tumult outside at that moment. Two soldiers had approached with a fellow caught 
stealing at the tavern, and the caballeros had stopped them. One glance at the masked faces had 
been enough to tell the troopers that here was something wrong. 
A soldier fired a pistol, and a caballero answered the fire, neither hitting the mark. But the 
shooting was enough to attract the attention of those in the tavern, and also of the guards at the 
presidio. 
Troopers at the presidio were awakened immediately and took the places of the guards, while 
the latter mounted and spurred down the hill to ascertain the cause of the sudden tumult at that 
hour of the night. Sergeant Pedro Gonzales and others hurried from the tavern. Señor Zorro and 
his companions found themselves facing a resistance when they least expected it. 
The jailer had gathered courage enough to work himself free of gag and bonds, and he 
shrieked through a window of his chamber that prisoners were being rescued by Señor Zorro. His 
shriek was understood by Sergeant Gonzales, who screeched for his men to follow him and earn a