The Curse of Capistrano

part of his excellency’s reward. 
But the caballeros had their three rescued prisoners on horseback, and they spurred through 
the gathering throng and so dashed across the plaza and toward the highway. 
Shots flew about them, but no man was hit. Don Carlos Pulido was still screaming that he 
refused to be rescued. Doña Catalina had fainted, for which the caballero who had her in charge 
was grateful, since he could give more attention to his horse and weapons. 
Señor Zorro rode wildly with the señorita Lolita in the saddle before him. He spurred his 
magnificent horse ahead of all the others, and so led the way to the highroad. And when he had 
reached it, he pulled up his mount and watched the others come galloping to the spot, to ascertain 
whether there had been casualties. 
“Carry out your orders, caballeros!” he commanded, when he saw that all had won through 
safely. 
And so the band was broken into three detachments. One rushed along the Pala Road with 
Don Carlos. Another took the highway that would lead them to the hacienda of Don Alejandro. 
Señor Zorro, riding without any of his comrades at his side, galloped toward Fray Felipe’s place, 
the señorita’s arms clasped tightly about his neck, and the señorita’s voice in his ear. 
“I knew that you would come for me, señor,” she said. “I knew you were a true man, and 
would not see me and my parents remain in that miserable place.” 
Señor Zorro did not answer her with words, for it was not a time for speech with his enemies 
so close at his heels, but his arm pressed the señorita closer to him. 
He had reached the crest of the first hill, and now he stopped the horse to listen for sounds of 
pursuit, and to watch the flickering lights far behind. 
For there was a multitude of lights in the plaza now, and in all the houses, for the pueblo had 
been aroused. The presidio building was ablaze with light, and he could hear a trumpet being 
blown, and knew that every available trooper would be sent on the chase. 
The sound of galloping horses came to his ears. The troopers knew in what direction the 
rescuers had traveled; and the pursuit would be swift and relentless, with his excellency on the 
scene to offer fabulous rewards and urge on his men with promises of good posts and promotion. 
But one thing pleased Señor Zorro as his horse galloped down the dusty highway and the 
señorita clung to him and the keen wind cut into his face—he knew that the pursuit would have to 

---

be divided into three parties. 
He pressed the señorita to him again, put spurs to his horse, and rode furiously through the 
night. 
CHAPTER XXXII 
Close Quarters 
OVER THE HILLS PEEPED THE MOON. 
Señor Zorro would have had the sky heavy with clouds this night and the moon obscured, 
could he have had things his own way, for now he was riding along the upper trail, and his pursuers 
were close behind and could see him against the brightening sky. 
The horses ridden by the troopers were fresh, too, and the most of those belonging to the men 
of his excellency’s escort were magnificent beasts, as swift as any in the country and able to endure 
many miles of travel at a terrific pace. 
But now the highwayman thought only of getting all the speed possible out of his own mount 
and of making as great as he could the distance between himself and those who followed; for at the 
end of his journey he would need quite a little time, if he was to accomplish what he had set out to 
do. 
He bent low over the señorita and felt his horse with the reins, making himself almost a part of 
the animal he rode, as any good horseman can. He reached the crest of another hill and glanced 
back before he began the descent into the valley. He could see the foremost of his pursuers. 
Had Señor Zorro been alone, no doubt the situation would have caused him no uneasiness, 
for many times he had been in a position more difficult and had escaped. But the señorita was on 
the saddle before him now, and he wanted to get her to a place of safety, not only because she was 
the señorita and the woman he loved, but also because he was not the sort of man to let a prisoner 
he had rescued be recaptured. Such an event, he felt, would be a reflection on his skill and daring. 
Mile after mile he rode, the señorita clinging to him, and neither speaking a word. Señor Zorro 
knew that he had gained some on those who followed, but not enough to suit his purpose. 
Now he urged his horse to greater effort, and they flew along the dusty highway, past haciendas 
where the hounds barked in sudden alarm, past the huts of natives where the clamor of beating 
hoofs on the hard road caused bronze men and women to tumble from their bunks and rush to 
their doors. 
Once he charged through a flock of sheep that were being driven to Reina de Los Angeles and 
the market there, and scattered them to either side of the road, leaving cursing herders behind 
him. The herders gathered the flock again, just in time to have the pursuing soldiers scatter it once 
more. 
On and on he rode, until he could see, far ahead, the mission buildings at San Gabriel 
glistening in the moonlight. He came to a fork in the road and took the trail that ran to the right, 
toward the hacienda of Fray Felipe. 
Señor Zorro was a reader of men, and he was trusting to his judgment tonight. He had known 
that the Señorita Lolita would have to be left either where there were women or else where there 
was a robed Franciscan to stand guard over her, for Señor Zorro was determined to protect his 
lady’s good name. And so he was pinning his faith to old Fray Felipe. 
Now the horse was galloping over softer ground, and was not making such good speed. Señor 
Zorro had little hope that the troopers would turn into the San Gabriel Road when they arrived at 

---

the fork, as they might have done had it not been moonlight and they had been unable to catch 
sight now and then of the man they pursued. He was within a mile of Fray Felipe’s hacienda now, 
and once more he gave his horse the spurs in an effort to obtain greater speed. 
“I shall have scant time, señorita,” he said, bending over her and speaking into her ear. 
“Everything may depend upon whether I have been able to judge a man correctly. I ask only that 
you trust me.” 
“You know that I do that, señor.” 
“And you must trust the man to whom I am carrying you, señorita, and listen well to his advice 
upon all matters concerned with this adventure. The man is a 
fray.” 
“Then everything will be well, señor,” she replied, clinging to him closely. 
“If the saints are kind, we shall meet again soon, señorita. I shall count the hours and deem 
each one of them an age. I believe there are happier days ahead for us.” 
“May Heaven grant it,” the girl breathed. 
“Where there is love, there may be hope, señorita.” 
“Then my hope is great, señor.” 
“And mine,” he said. 
He turned his horse into Fray Felipe’s driveway now and dashed toward the house. His 
intention was to stop only long enough to leave the girl, hoping that Fray Felipe would afford her 
protection, and then ride on, making considerable noise and drawing the troopers after him. He 
wanted them to think that he was merely taking a short cut across Fray Felipe’s land to the other 
road, and that he had not stopped at the house. 
He reined in his horse before the veranda steps, sprang to the ground, and lifted the señorita 
from the saddle, hurrying with her to the door. He beat against it with his fist, praying that Fray 
Felipe was a light sleeper and easily aroused. From the far distance there came a low drumming 
sound that he knew was made by the hoofs of his pursuers’ horses. 
It seemed to Señor Zorro that it was an age before the old 
fray threw open the door and stood 
framed in it, holding a candle in one hand. The highwayman stepped in swiftly and closed the 
door behind him, so no light would show outside. Fray Felipe had taken a step backward in as-
tonishment when he had beheld the masked man and the señorita he escorted. 
“I am Señor Zorro, 
fray,” the highwayman said, speaking swiftly and in low tones. “Perhaps 
you may feel that you owe me a small debt for certain things?” 
“For punishing those who oppressed and mistreated me, I owe you a large debt, caballero, 
though it is against my principles to countenance violence of any sort,” Fray Felipe replied. 
“I was sure that I had made no mistake in reading your character,” Señor Zorro went on. “This 
señorita is Lolita, the only daughter of Don Carlos Pulido.” 
“Ha!” 
“Don Carlos is a friend of the 
frailes, as you well know, and has known oppression and 
persecution the same as they. Today the governor came to Reina de Los Angeles and had Don 
Carlos arrested and thrown into the 
cárcel on a charge that has no true worth, as I happen to know. 
He also had the Doña Catalina and this young lady put in 
cárcel, in the same prison room with 
drunkards and dissolute women. With the aid of some good friends, I rescued them.” 
“May the saints bless you, señor, for that kind action!” Fray Felipe cried. 
“Troopers are pursuing us, 
fray. It is not seemly, of course, that the señorita ride farther with 
me alone. Do you take her and hide her, 
fray—unless you fear that such a course may cause you 
grave trouble.” 
“Señor!” Fray Felipe thundered. 
“If the soldiers take her, they will put her in 
cárcel again, and probably she will be mistreated. 

---

Care for her, then, protect her, and you will more than discharge any obligation you may feel that 
you owe me.” 
“And you, señor?” 
“I shall ride on, that the troopers may pursue me and not stop here at your house. I shall 
communicate with you later, 
fray. It is agreed between us?” 
“It is agreed,” Fray Felipe replied solemnly. “And I would clasp you by the hand, señor.” 
That handclasp was short, yet full of expression for all that. Señor Zorro then whirled toward 
the door. 
“Blow out your candle,” he directed. “They must see no light when I open the door.” 
In an instant Fray Felipe had complied, and they were in darkness. Señorita Lolita felt Señor 
Zorro’s lips press against her own for an instant, and knew that he had raised the bottom of his 
mask to give her this caress. And then she felt one of Fray Felipe’s strong arms around her. 
“Be of good courage, daughter,” the 
fray said. “Señor Zorro, it appears, has as many lives as a 
cat, and something tells me he was not born to be slain by troopers of his excellency.” 
The highwayman laughed lightly at that, opened the door, and darted through, closed it softly 
behind him, and so was gone. 
Great eucalyptus trees shrouded the front of the house in shadows, and in the midst of these 
shadows was Señor Zorro’s horse. He noticed, as he ran toward the beast, that the soldiers were 
galloping down the driveway, that they were much nearer than he had expected to find them when 
he emerged from the house. 
He ran quickly toward his mount, tripped on a stone, and fell, and frightened the animal so 
that it reared and darted half a dozen paces away, and into the full moonlight. 
The foremost of his pursuers shouted when he saw the horse, and dashed toward it. Señor 
Zorro picked himself up, gave a quick spring, caught the reins from the ground, and vaulted into 
the saddle. 
But they were upon him now, surrounding him, their blades flashing in the moonlight. He 
heard the raucous voice of Sergeant Gonzales ordering the men. 
“Alive, if you can, soldiers! His excellency would see the rogue suffer for his crimes. At him, 
troopers! By the saints!” 
Señor Zorro parried a stroke with difficulty and found himself unhorsed. On foot he fought his 
way back into the shadows, and the troopers charged after him. With his back to the bole of a tree, 
Señor Zorro fought them off. 
Three sprang from their saddles to rush in at him. He darted from the tree to another, but 
could not reach his horse. But one belonging to a dismounted trooper was near him, and he 
vaulted into the saddle and dashed down the slope toward the barns and corral. 
“After the rogue!” he heard Sergeant Gonzales shouting. “His excellency will have us flayed 
alive if this pretty highwayman escapes us now!” 
They charged after him, eager to win promotion and the reward. But Señor Zorro had some 
sort of a start of them, enough to enable him to play a trick. As he came into the shadow cast by a 
big barn, he slipped from the saddle, at the same time giving the horse he rode a cut with his 
rowels. The animal plunged ahead, snorting with pain and fright, running swiftly through the 
darkness toward the corral below. The soldiers dashed by in pursuit. 
Señor Zorro waited until they were past and then he ran rapidly up the hill again. But he saw 
that some of the troopers had remained behind to guard the house, evidently with the intention of 
searching it later, and so he found he could not reach his horse. 
And once more there rang out that peculiar cry, half shriek and half moan, with which Señor 
Zorro had startled those at the hacienda of Don Carlos Pulido. His horse raised its head, whinnied 

---

once in answer to his call, and galloped toward him. 
Señor Zorro was in the saddle in an instant, spurring across a field directly in front of him. His 
horse went over a stone fence as if it had not been in the way. And after him speedily came a part 
of the troopers. 
They had discovered the trick he had used. They charged at him from both sides, met behind 
him, followed, and strained to cut down his lead. He could hear Sergeant Pedro Gonzales shouting 
lustily for them to make a capture in the name of the governor. 
He hoped that he had drawn them all away from Fray Felipe’s house but he was not sure, and 
the thing that demanded his attention the most now was the matter of his own escape. 
He urged his horse cruelly, knowing that this journey across plowed ground was taking the 
animal’s strength. He longed for a hard trail, the broad highway. 
And finally he reached the latter. Now he turned his horse’s head toward Reina de Los 
Angeles, for he had work to do there. There was no señorita before him on the saddle now, and 
the horse felt the difference. 
Señor Zorro glanced behind and exulted to find that he was running away from the soldiers. 
Over the next hill and he would be able to elude them! 
But he had to be on guard, of course, for there might be troopers in front of him, too. His 
excellency might have sent reinforcements to Sergeant Gonzales, or might have men watching 
from the tops of the hills. 
He glanced at the sky and saw that the moon was about to disappear behind a bank of clouds. 
He would have to make use of the short period of darkness, he knew. 
Down into the little valley he rode, and looked back to find that his pursuers were only at the 
crest of the hill. Then came the darkness, and at the proper time. Señor Zorro had a lead of half a 
mile on the pursuing soldiers now, but it was not his intention to allow them to chase him into the 
pueblo. 
He had friends in this locality. Beside the highway was an adobe hut, where there lived a native 
Señor Zorro had saved from a beating. Now he dismounted before the hut and kicked against the 
door. The frightened native opened it. 
“I am pursued,” Señor Zorro said. 
That appeared to be all that was necessary, for the native immediately threw the door of the 
hut open wider. Señor Zorro led his horse inside, almost filling the crude building, and the door 
was hastily shut again. 
Behind it, the highwayman and the native stood listening, the former with pistol in one hand 
and his naked blade in the other. 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
Flight and Pursuit 
THAT THE DETERMINED PURSUIT of Señor Zorro and his band of caballeros from the 
cárcel had been taken up so quickly was due to Sergeant Pedro Gonzales. 
Sergeant Gonzales had heard the shots and had rushed from the tavern with the other troopers 
at his heels, glad of an excuse to escape without paying for the wine he had ordered. He had heard 
the shout of the jailer and had understood it, and immediately had grasped the situation. 
“Señor Zorro is rescuing the prisoners!” he screeched. “The highwayman is in our midst again! 
To horse, troopers, and after him! There is a reward—” 
They knew all about the reward, especially the members of the governor’s bodyguard, who had 

---

heard his excellency rave at mention of the highwayman’s name and declare he would make a 
captain of the trooper who captured him or brought in his carcass. 
They rushed for their horses, swung themselves into their saddles, and dashed across the plaza 
toward the 
cárcel with Sergeant Gonzales at their head. 
They saw the masked caballeros galloping across the plaza, and Sergeant Gonzales rubbed his 
eyes with the back of one hand and swore softly that he had been taking too much wine. He had 
lied so often about Señor Zorro having a band of men at his back, that here was the band 
materialized out of his falsehoods. 
When the caballeros split into three detachments, Sergeant Gonzales and his troopers were so 
near them that they observed the maneuver. Gonzales quickly made three troops of the men who 
followed him, and sent a troop after each band. 
He saw the leader of the caballeros turn toward San Gabriel, he recognized the leap of the 
great horse the highwayman rode, and he took after Señor Zorro with an exultant heart, being of a 
mind to capture or slay the highwayman rather than to retake any of the rescued prisoners. For 
Sergeant Pedro Gonzales had not forgotten the time Señor Zorro had played with him in the 
tavern at Reina de Los Angeles, nor had he given up the idea of taking his vengeance for it. 
He had seen Señor Zorro’s horse run before, and he wondered a bit now because the 
highwayman was not putting greater distance between himself and his pursuers. And Sergeant 
Gonzales guessed the reason—that Señor Zorro had Señorita Lolita Pulido on the saddle before 
him and was carrying her away. 
Gonzales was in the lead, and now and then he turned his head and shouted orders and 
encouragement to his troopers. The miles flew beneath them, and Gonzales was glad because he 
was keeping Señor Zorro in sight. 
“To Fray Felipe’s—that is where he is riding!” Gonzales told himself. “I knew that old 
fray was 
in league with the bandit! In some manner he tricked me when I sought this Señor Zorro at his 
hacienda before. Perhaps this highwayman has a clever hiding-place there. Ha! By the saints, I 
shall not be tricked again!” 
On they rode, now and then catching glimpses of the man they pursued, and always in the 
minds of Gonzales and his troopers were thoughts of the reward and promotion a capture would 
mean. Their horses were beginning to show some fatigue already, but they did not spare the 
animals. 
They saw Señor Zorro turn into the driveway that led to Fray Felipe’s house; and Sergeant 
Gonzales chuckled low down in his throat because he felt that he had guessed correctly. 
He had the highwayman now! If Señor Zorro continued to ride, he could be seen and followed 
because of the bright moonlight; if he stopped, Señor Zorro could not hope to cope successfully 
with half a score of troopers with Gonzales at their head. 
They dashed up to the front of the house and started to surround it. They saw Señor Zorro’s 
horse. And then they saw the highwayman himself, and Gonzales cursed because half a dozen 
troopers were between him and his prey, and were at him with their swords, threatening to end the 
business before Gonzales could reach the scene. 
He tried to force his horse into the fight. He saw Señor Zorro spring into a saddle and dash 
away, and the troopers after him. Gonzales, not being close, gave his attention to the other half of 
his duty—he bade some of his soldiers surround the house so that none could leave it. 
Then he saw Señor Zorro take the stone fence, and started in pursuit, all except the guards 
around the house joining him. But Sergeant Gonzales went only as far as the crest of the first hill. 
He noticed how the highwayman’s horse was running, and realized that he could not be overtaken. 
Perhaps the sergeant could gain some glory if he returned to Fray Felipe’s house and recaptured 

---

the señorita. 
The house was still being guarded when he dismounted before it, and his men reported that 
none had attempted to leave the building. He called two of his men to his side and knocked on the 
door. Almost instantly it was opened by Fray Felipe. 
“Are you just from bed, 
fray?” Gonzales asked. 
“Is it not a time of night for honest men to be abed?” Fray Felipe asked in turn. 
“It is, 
fray—yet we find you out of it. How does it happen that you have not come from the 
house before? Did we not make enough noise to awaken you?” 
“I heard sounds of combat—” 
“And you may hear more, 
fray, else feel the sting of a whip again, unless you answer questions 
swiftly and to the point. Do you deny that Señor Zorro has been here?” 
“I do not.” 
“Ha! Now we have it. You admit, then, that you are in league with this pretty highwayman, that 
you shield him upon occasion? You admit that, 
fray?” 
“I admit nothing of the sort,” Fray Felipe replied. “I never set my eyes on this Señor Zorro, to 
my knowledge, until a very few minutes ago.” 
“That is a likely story. Tell it to the stupid natives, but do not try to tell it to a wise trooper, 
fray. 
What did this Señor Zorro wish?” 
“You were so close upon the man’s heels, señor, that he scarce had time to wish for anything,” 
Fray Felipe said. 
“Yet you had some speech with him?” 
“I opened the door at his knock, señor, the same as I opened it at yours.” 
“What said he?” 
“That soldiers were pursuing him.” 
“And he asked that you hide him, so he could escape capture at our hands?” 
“He did not.” 
“Wanted a fresh horse, did he?” 
“He did not say as much, señor. If he is such a thief as he is painted, undoubtedly he would 
merely have taken a horse without asking, had he wanted it.” 
“Ha! What business had he with you, then? It would be well for you to answer openly, 
fray.” 
“Did I say that he had business with me?” 
“Ha! By the saints—” 
“The saints are better off your lips, señor—boaster and drunkard!” 
“Do you wish to receive another beating, 
fray? I am riding on his excellency’s business. Do not 
you delay me further! What said this pretty highwayman?” 
“Nothing that I am at liberty to repeat to you, señor,” Fray Felipe said. 
Sergeant Gonzales pushed him aside roughly and entered the living-room, and his two troopers 
followed at his heels. 
“Light the 
candelero,” Gonzales commanded his men. “Take candles, if you can find any. We 
search the house.” 
“You search my poor house?” Fray Felipe cried. “And what do you expect to find?” Fray 
Felipe asked. 
“I expect to find the piece of merchandise this pretty Señor Zorro left here, 
fray.” 
“What do you imagine he left?” 
“Ha! A package of clothing, I suppose! A bundle of loot! A bottle of wine! A saddle to be 
mended! What would the fellow leave, 
fray? One thing impresses me—Señor Zorro’s horse carried 
double when he arrived at your house, and was carrying none but Señor Zorro when he departed.” 

---

“And you expect to find—” 
“The other half of the horse’s load,” replied Gonzales. “Failing to find it, we may try a twist or 
two of your arm to see whether you can be made to speak.” 
“You would dare? You would so affront a 
fray? You would descend to torture?” 
“Meal mush and goat’s milk!” quoth Sergeant Gonzales. “You fooled me once in some 
manner, but you will not so fool me again. Search the house, troopers, and be sure that you search 
it well. I shall remain in this room and keep this entertaining 
fray company. I shall endeavor to dis-
cover what his sensations were while he was being whipped for swindling.” 
“Coward and brute!” Fray Felipe thundered. “There may come a day when persecution shall 
cease.” 
“Meal mush and goat’s milk!” 
“When this disorder ends and honest men be given their just dues!” Fray Felipe cried. “When 
those who have founded a rich empire here shall receive the true fruits of their labor and daring 
instead of having them stolen by dishonest politicians and men who stand in their favor!” 
“Goat’s milk and meal mush, 
fray!” 
“When there shall be a thousand Señor Zorros, and more if necessary, to ride up and down El 
Camino Real and punish those who do wrong! Sometimes I would that I were not a 
fray, that I 
might play such a game myself!” 
“We’d run you down in short order and stretch a rope with your weight,” Sergeant Gonzales 
told him. “Did you help his excellency’s soldiers more, perhaps his excellency would treat you with 
more consideration.” 
“I give aid to no spawn of the devil,” Fray Felipe said. 
“Ha! Now you grow angry, and that is against your principles. Is it not the part of a robed 
fray 
to receive what comes his way and give thanks for it, no matter how much it chokes him? Answer 
me that, angry one.” 
“You have about as much knowledge of a Franciscan’s principles and duties as has the horse 
you ride.” 
“I ride a wise horse, a noble animal. He comes when I call and gallops when I command. Do 
not deride him until you ride him. Ha! An excellent jest.” 
“Imbecile!” 
“Meal mush and goat’s milk!” said Sergeant Gonzales. 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
The Blood of the Pulidos 
THE TWO TROOPERS CAME BACK INTO the room. They had searched the house well, 
they reported, invading every corner of it, and no trace had been found of any person other than 
Fray Felipe’s native servants, all of whom were too terrified to utter a falsehood, and had said they 
had seen nobody around the place who did not belong there. 
“Ha! Hidden away well, no doubt!” Gonzales said. “
fray, what is that in the corner of the 
room?” 
“Bales of hides,” Fray Felipe replied. 
“I have been noticing it from time to time. The dealer from San Gabriel must have been right 
when he said the hides he purchased of you were not properly cured. Are those?” 
“I think you will find them so.” 
“Then why did they move?” Sergeant Gonzales asked. “Three times I saw the corner of a bale 

---

move. Soldiers, search there.” 
Fray Felipe sprang to his feet. 
“Enough of this nonsense,” he cried. “You have searched and found nothing. Search the barns 
next and then go! At least let me be master in my own house. You have disturbed my rest enough 
as it is.” 
“You will take a solemn oath, 
fray, that there is nothing alive behind those bales of hides?” 
Fray Felipe hesitated, and Sergeant Gonzales grinned. “Not ready to forswear yourself, eh?” the 
sergeant asked. “I had a thought you would hesitate at that, my robed Franciscan. Soldiers, search 
the bales.” 
The two men started toward the corner. But they had not covered one half the distance when 
Señorita Lolita Pulido stood up behind the bales of hides and faced them. 
“Ha! Unearthed at last!” Gonzales cried. “Here is the package Señor Zorro left in the 
fray’s 
keeping! And a pretty package it is! Back to 
cárcel she goes, and this escape will but make her final 
sentence the greater!” 
But there was Pulido blood in the señorita’s veins, and Gonzales had not taken that into 
account. Now the señorita stepped to the end of the pile of hides, so that light from the 
candelero 
struck full upon her. 
“One moment, señores,” she said. 
One hand came from behind her back, and in it she held a long, keen knife such as sheep 
skinners used. She put the point of the knife against her breast, and regarded them bravely. 
“Señorita Lolita Pulido does not return to the foul 
cárcel now or at any time, señores,” she 
said. “Rather would she plunge this knife into her heart, and so die as a woman of good blood 
should. If his excellency wishes for a dead prisoner, he may have one.” 
Sergeant Gonzales uttered an exclamation of annoyance. He did not doubt that the señorita 
would do as she had threatened, if the men made an attempt to seize her. And while he might have 
ordered the attempt in the case of an ordinary prisoner, he did not feel sure that the governor 
would say he had done right if he ordered it now. After all, señorita Pulido was the daughter of a 
don, and her self-inflicted death might cause trouble for his excellency. It might prove the spark to 
the powder magazine. 
“Señorita, the person who takes his or her own life risks eternal damnation,” the sergeant said. 
“Ask this 
fray if it is not so. You are only under arrest, not convicted and sentenced. If you are 
innocent, no doubt you soon will be set at liberty.” 
“It is no time for lying speeches, señor,” the girl replied. “I realize the circumstances only too 
well. I have said that I will not return to 
cárcel, and I meant it—and mean it now. One step toward 
me, and I take my own life.” 
“Señorita—” Fray Felipe began. 
“It is useless for you to attempt to prevent me, good 
fray,” she interrupted. “I have pride left 
me, thank the saints. His excellency gets only my dead body, if he gets me at all.” 
“Here is a pretty mess,” Sergeant Gonzales exclaimed. “I suppose there is nothing for us to do 
except retire and leave the señorita to her freedom.” 
“Ah, no, señor!” she cried quickly. “You are clever, but not clever enough by far. You would 
retire and continue to have your men surround the house? You would watch for an opportunity, 
and then seize me?” 
Gonzales growled low in his throat, for that had been his intention, and the girl had read it. 
“I shall be the one to leave,” she said. “Walk backward, and stand against the wall, señores. Do 
it immediately, or I plunge this knife into my bosom.” 
They could do nothing except obey. The soldiers looked to the sergeant for instructions, and 

---

the sergeant was afraid to risk the señorita’s death, knowing it would call down upon his head the 
wrath of the governor, who would say that he had bungled. 
Perhaps, after all, it would be better to let the girl leave the house. She might be captured 
afterward, for surely a girl could not escape the troopers. 
She watched them closely as she darted across the room to the door. The knife was still held at 
her breast. 
“Fray Felipe, you wish to go with me?” she asked. “You may be punished if you remain.” 
“Yet I must remain, señorita. I could not run away. May the saints protect you!” 
She faced Gonzales and the soldiers once more. 
“I am going through this door,” she said. “You will remain in this room. There are troopers 
outside, of course, and they will try to stop me. I shall tell them that I have your permission to 
leave. If they call and ask you, you are to say that it is so.” 
“And if I do not?” 
“Then I use the knife, señor.” 
She opened the door, turned her head for an instant and glanced out. 
“I trust that your horse is an excellent one, señor, for I intend to use it,” she told the sergeant. 
She darted suddenly through the door, and slammed it shut behind her. 
“After her!” Gonzales cried. “I looked into her eyes! She will not use the knife—she fears it!” 
He hurled himself across the room, the two soldiers with him. But Fray Felipe had been 
passive long enough. He went into action now. He did not stop to consider the consequences. He 
threw out one leg, and tripped Sergeant Gonzales. The two troopers crashed into him, and all went 
to the floor in a tangle. 
Fray Felipe had gained some time for her, and it had been enough. For the señorita had 
rushed to the horse and had jumped into the saddle. She could ride like a native. Her tiny feet did 
not reach halfway to the sergeant’s stirrups, but she thought nothing of that. 
She wheeled the horse’s head, kicked at his sides as a trooper rushed around the corner of the 
house. A pistol ball whistled past her head. She bent lower over the horse’s neck and rode. 
Now a cursing Sergeant Gonzales was on the veranda, shouting for his men to get to horse and 
follow her. The moon was behind a bank of clouds again. They could not tell the direction the 
señorita was taking except by listening for the sounds of the horse’s hoofs. And they had to stop to 
do that—and if they stopped they lost time and distance. 
CHAPTER XXXV 
The Clash of Blades Again 
SEÑOR ZORRO STOOD LIKE a statue in the native’s hut, one hand grasping his horse’s 
muzzle. The native crouched at his side. 
Down the highway came the drumming of horses’ hoofs. Then the pursuit swept by, the men 
calling to one another and cursing the darkness, and rushed down the valley. 
Señor Zorro opened the door and glanced out, listened for a moment, and then led out his 
horse. He tendered the native a coin. 
“Not from you, señor,” the native said. 
“Take it. You have need of it, and I have not,” the highwayman said. 
He vaulted into the saddle and turned his horse up the steep slope of the hill behind the hut. 
The animal made little noise as it climbed to the summit. Señor Zorro descended into the 
depression on the other side, and came to a narrow trail, and along this he rode at a slow gallop, 

---

stopping his mount now and then to listen for sounds of other horsemen who might be abroad. 
He rode toward Reina de Los Angeles, but he appeared to be in no hurry about arriving at the 
pueblo. Señor Zorro had another adventure planned for this night, and it had to be accomplished 
at a certain time and under certain conditions. 
It was two hours later when he came to the crest of the hill above the town: He sat quietly in 
the saddle for some time, regarding the scene. The moonlight was fitful now, but now and then he 
could make out the plaza. 
He saw no troopers, heard nothing of them, decided that they had ridden back in pursuit of 
him, and that those who had been sent in pursuit of Don Carlos and the Doña Catalina had not yet 
returned. In the tavern there were lights, and in the presidio, and in the house where his excellency 
was a guest. 
Señor Zorro waited until it was dark and then urged his horse forward slowly, but off the main 
highway. He circled the pueblo, and in time approached the presidio from the rear. 
He dismounted now and led his horse, going forward slowly, often stopping to listen, for this 
was a very ticklish business and might end in disaster if a mistake were made. 
He stopped the horse behind the presidio where the wall of the building would cast a shadow if 
the moon came from behind the clouds again, and went forward cautiously, following the wall as 
he had done on that other night. 
When he came to the office window, he peered inside. Captain Ramón was there alone, 
looking over some reports spread on the table before him, evidently awaiting the return of his 
men. 
Señor Zorro crept to the corner of the building and found there was no guard. He had guessed 
and hoped that the comandante had sent every available man to the chase, but he knew that he 
would have to act quickly, for some of the troopers might return. 
He slipped through the door and crossed the big lounging-room, and so came to the door of 
the office. His pistol was in his hand, and could a man have seen behind the mask, he would have 
observed that Señor Zorro’s lips were crushed in a thin, straight line of determination. 
As upon that other night, Captain Ramón whirled around in his chair when he heard the door 
open behind him, and once more he saw the eyes of Señor Zorro glittering through his mask, saw 
the muzzle of the pistol menacing him. 
“Not a move. Not a sound. It would give me pleasure to fill your body with hot lead,” Señor 
Zorro said. “You are alone—your silly troopers are chasing me where I am not.” 
“By the saints—” Captain Ramón breathed. 
“Not so much as a whisper, señor, if you hope to live. Turn your back to me.” 
“You would murder me?” 
“I am not that sort, comandante. And I said for you to make not a sound. Put your hands 
behind your back, for I am going to bind your wrists.” 
Captain Ramón complied. Señor Zorro stepped forward swiftly, and bound the wrists with his 
own sash, which he tore from his waist. Then he whirled Captain Ramón around so that he faced 
him. 
“Where is his excellency?” he asked. 
“At Don Juan Estados’s house.” 
“I knew as much, but wanted to see whether you prefer to speak the truth tonight. It is well if 
you do so. We are going to call upon the governor.” 
“To call—” 
“Upon his excellency, I said. And do not speak again. Come with me.” 
He grasped Captain Ramón by the arm and hurried him from the office, across the lounging-

---

room, out of the door. He piloted him around the building to where the horse was waiting. 
“Mount!” he commanded. “I shall sit behind you, with the muzzle of this pistol at the base of 
your brain. Make no mistake, comandante, unless you are tired of life. I am a determined man this 
night.” 
Captain Ramón had observed it. He mounted as he was directed, and the highwayman 
mounted behind him, and held the reins with one hand and the pistol with the other. Captain 
Ramón could feel the touch of cold steel at the back of his head. 
Señor Zorro guided his horse with his knees instead of with the reins. He urged the beast down 
the slope and circled the town once more, keeping away from the beaten trails, and so approached 
the rear of the house where his excellency was a guest. 
Here was the difficult part of the adventure. He wanted to get Captain Ramón before the 
governor, to talk to both of them, and to do it without having anybody else interfere. He forced the 
captain to dismount, and led him to the rear wall of the house. There was a patio there, and they 
entered it. 
It appeared that Señor Zorro knew the interior of the house well. He entered it through a 
servant’s room, taking Captain Ramón with him, and passed through into a hall without awakening 
the sleeping native. They went along the hall slowly. From one room came the sound of snoring. 
From beneath the door of another light streamed. 
Señor Zorro stopped before that door and applied an eye to a crack at the side of it. If Captain 
Ramón harbored thoughts of voicing an alarm, or of offering battle, the touch of the pistol at the 
back of his head caused him to forget them. 
And he had scant time to think of a way out of this predicament, for suddenly Señor Zorro 
threw open the door, hurled Captain Ramón through it, followed himself, and shut the door 
quickly behind him. In the room there were his excellency and his host. 
“Silence, and do not move,” Señor Zorro said. “The slightest alarm, and I put a pistol ball 
through the governor’s head. That is understood? Very well, señores.” 
“Señor Zorro!” the governor gasped. 
“The same, your excellency. I ask your host to be not frightened, for I mean him no harm if he 
sits quietly until I am done. Captain Ramón, kindly sit across the table from the governor. I am 
delighted to find the head of the state awake and awaiting news from those who are chasing me. 
His brain will be clear, and he can understand better what is said.” 
“What means this outrage?” the governor exclaimed. “Captain Ramón, how comes this? Seize 
this man! You are an officer—” 
“Do not blame the comandante,” Señor Zorro said. “He knows it is death to make a move. 
There is a little matter that needs explanation, and since I cannot come to you in broad day as a 
man should, I am forced to adopt this method. Make yourselves comfortable, señores. This may 
take some little time.” 
His excellency fidgeted in his chair. 
“You have this day insulted a family of good blood, your excellency,” Señor Zorro went on. 
“You have forgotten the proprieties to such an extent that you have ordered thrown into your 
miserable 
cárcel a hidalgo and his gentle wife and innocent daughter. You have taken such means 
to gratify a spite—” 
“They are traitors,” his excellency said. 
“What have they done of treason?” 
“You are an outlaw with a price put upon your head. They have been guilty of harboring you, 
giving you aid.” 
“Where got you this information?” 

---

“Captain Ramón has an abundance of evidence.” 
“Ha! The comandante, eh? We shall see about that! Captain Ramón is present, and we can get 
at the truth. May I ask the nature of your evidence?” 
“You were at the Pulido hacienda,” the governor said. 
“I admit it.” 
“A native saw you and carried word to the presidio. The soldiers hurried out to effect your 
capture.” 
“A moment. Who said a native sounded the alarm?” 
“Captain Ramón assured me so.” 
“Here is the first chance for the captain to speak the truth. As a matter of fact, comandante, 
was it not Don Carlos Pulido himself who sent the native? The truth!” 
“It was a native brought word.” 
“And he did not tell your sergeant that Don Carlos had sent him? Did he not say that Don 
Carlos had slipped him the information in whispers while he was carrying his fainting wife to her 
room? Is it not true that Don Carlos did his best to hold me at his hacienda until the soldiers ar-
rived, that might be captured? Did not Don Carlos thus try to show his loyalty to the governor?” 
“By the saints, Ramón, you never told me as much!” his excellency cried. 
“They are traitors,” the captain declared stubbornly. 
“What other evidence?” Señor Zorro asked. 
“Why, when the soldiers arrived, you concealed yourself by some trick,” the governor said. 
“And presently Captain Ramón himself reached the scene, and while he was there you crept from 
a closet, ran him through treacherously from behind, and made your escape. It is an evident fact 
that Don Carlos had hidden you in the closet.” 
“By the saints!” Señor Zorro swore. “I had thought, Captain Ramón, that you were man 
enough to admit defeat, though I knew you for a scoundrel in other things. Tell the truth!” 
“That is—the truth.” 
“Tell the truth!” Señor Zorro commanded, stepping closer to him and bringing up the pistol. 
“I came from that closet and spoke to you. I gave you time to draw blade and get on guard. We 
fenced for fully ten minutes, did we not? 
“I admit freely that for a moment you puzzled me, and then I solved your method of giving 
battle and knew you were at my mercy. And then, when I could have slain you easily, I but 
scratched your shoulder. Is not that the truth? Answer, as you hope to live!” 
Captain Ramón licked his dry lips, and could not meet the governor’s eyes. 
“Answer!” Señor Zorro thundered. 
“It is—the truth,” the captain acknowledged. 
“Ha! So I ran you through from behind, eh? It is an insult to my blade to have it enter your 
body. You see, your excellency, what manner of man you have for comandante here. Is there 
more evidence?” 
“There is,” the governor said. “When the Pulidos were guests at the house of Don Diego Vega, 
and Don Diego was away, Captain Ramón went to pay his respects and found you there alone with 
the señorita.” 
“And that shows what?” 
“That you are in league with the Pulidos. That they harbored you even in the house of Don 
Diego, a loyal man. And when the captain discovered you there, the señorita flung herself upon 
him and held him—delayed him, rather—until you made your escape through a window. Is not that 
enough?” 
Señor Zorro bent forward, and his eyes seemed to burn through the mask and into those of 

---

Captain Ramón. 
“So that is the tale he told, eh?” the highwayman said. “As a matter of fact, Captain Ramón is 
enamored of the señorita. He went to the house, found her alone, forced his attentions upon her, 
even told her that she should not object, since her father was in the bad graces of the governor. He 
attempted to caress her, and she called for help. I responded.” 
“How did you happen to be there?” 
“I do not care to answer that, but I take my oath the señorita did not know of my presence. 
She called for aid, and I responded. 
“I made this thing you call a comandante kneel before her and apologize. And then I took him 
to the door and kicked him out into the dust! And afterward I visited him at the presidio and told 
him that he had given insult to a noble señorita—” 
“It appears that you hold some love for her yourself,” the governor said. 
“I do, your excellency, and am proud to admit it.” 
“Ha! You condemn her and her parents by that statement! You deny now they are in league 
with you?” 
“I do. Her parents do not know of our love.” 
“This señorita is scarcely conventional.” 
“Señor! Governor or no, another thought like that and I spill your blood,” Señor Zorro cried. 
“I have told you what happened that night at the house of Don Diego Vega. Captain Ramón will 
testify that what I have said is the exact truth. Is it not, comandante? Answer!” 
“It—it is the truth.” The captain gulped, looking at the muzzle of the highwayman’s pistol. 
“Then you have told me falsehood, and can no longer be an officer of mine!” the governor 
cried. “It appears that this highwayman can do as he pleases with you. Ha! But I still believe that 
Don Carlos Pulido is a traitor, and the members of his family, and it has availed you nothing, 
Señor Zorro, to play this little scene. 
“My soldiers shall continue to pursue them—and you! And before they are done, I’ll have the 
Pulidos dragged in the dirt, and I’ll have you stretching a rope with your carcass!” 
“Quite a bold speech,” observed Señor Zorro. “You set your soldiers a pretty task, your 
excellency. I rescued your three prisoners tonight, and they have escaped.” 
“They shall be retaken.” 
“Time alone will tell that. And now I have another duty to perform here. Your excellency, you 
will take your chair to that far corner and sit there, and your host will sit beside you. And there you 
shall remain until I have finished.” 
“What do you mean to do?” 
“Obey me,” Señor Zorro cried. “I have scant time for argument, even with a governor.” 
He watched while the two chairs were placed and the governor and his host had seated 
themselves. And then he stepped nearer Captain Ramón. 
“You insulted a pure and innocent girl, comandante,” he said. “For that, you shall fight. Your 
scratched shoulder is healed now, and you wear your blade by your side. Such a man as you is not 
fit to breathe God’s pure air. The country is better for your absence. On your feet, señor, and on 
guard!” 
Captain Ramón was white with rage. He knew that he was ruined. He had been forced to 
confess that he had lied. He had heard the governor remove his rank. And this man before him 
had been the cause of all of it. 
Perhaps in his anger he could kill this Señor Zorro, stretch this Curse of Capistrano on the 
floor with his life blood flowing away. Perhaps, if he did that, his excellency would relent. 
He sprang from his chair and backward to the side of the governor. 

---

“Unfasten my wrists!” he cried. “Let me at this dog!” 
“You were as good as dead before—you certainly are dead after using that word,” Señor Zorro 
said calmly. The comandante’s wrists were untied. He whipped out his blade, sprang forward with 
a cry, and launched himself in a furious attack upon the highwayman. 
Señor Zorro gave ground before this onslaught, and so obtained a position where the light 
from the 
candelero did not bother his eyes. He was skilled with a blade, and had fenced for life 
many times, and he knew the danger in the attack of an angered man who did not fence according 
to the code. 
And he knew, too, that such anger is spent quickly unless a fortunate thrust makes the 
possessor of it victor almost at once. And so he retreated step by step, guarding well, parrying 
vicious strokes, alert for an unexpected move. 
The governor and his host were sitting in their corner, but bending forward and watching the 
combat. 
“Run him through, Ramón, and I reinstate and promote you!” his excellency cried. 
The comandante thus was urged to do it. Señor Zorro found his opponent fighting much 
better than he had before in Don Carlos Pulido’s house at the hacienda. He found himself forced 
to fight out of a dangerous corner, and the pistol he held in his left hand to intimidate the governor 
and his host bothered him. 
And suddenly he tossed it to the table, and then swung around so that neither of the two men 
could dart from a corner and get it without running the chance of receiving a blade between the 
ribs. And there he stood his ground and fought. 
Captain Ramón could not force him to give way now. His blade seemed to be a score. It darted 
in and out, trying to find a resting place in the captain’s body; for Señor Zorro was eager to have an 
end of this and be gone. He knew that the dawn was not far away, and he feared that some trooper 
might come to the house with a report for the governor. 
“Fight, insulter of girls!” he cried. “Fight, man who tells a falsehood to injure a noble family! 
Fight, coward and poltroon! Now death stares you in the face, and soon you’ll be claimed! Ha! I 
almost had you then! Fight, cur!” 
Captain Ramón cursed and charged, but Señor Zorro received him and drove him back, and 
so held his position. The perspiration was standing out on the captain’s forehead in great globules. 
His breath was coming heavily from between his parted lips. His eyes were bright and bulging. 
“Fight, weakling!” The highwayman taunted him. “This time I am not attacking from behind. If 
you have prayers to say, say them—for your time grows short.” 
The ringing blades, the shifting feet on the floor, the heavy breathing of the combatants and of 
the two spectators of this life-and-death struggle were the only sounds in the room. His excellency 
sat far forward on his chair, his hands gripping the edges of it so that his knuckles were white. 
“Kill me this highwayman!” he shrieked. “Use your good skill, Ramón! At him!” 
Captain Ramón rushed again, calling into play his last bit of strength, fencing with what skill he 
could command. His arms were as lead; his breath was fast. He thrust, he lunged—and made a 
mistake of a fraction of an inch. 
Like the tongue of a serpent, Señor Zorro’s blade shot in. Thrice it darted forward, and upon 
the fair brow of Ramón, just between the eyes, there flamed suddenly a red, bloody letter Z. 
“The Mark of Zorro!” the highwayman cried. “You wear it forever now, comandante!” 
Señor Zorro’s face became more stern. His blade shot in again and came out dripping red. 
The comandante gasped and slipped to the floor. 
“You have slain him!” the governor cried. “You have taken his life, wretch!” 
“Ha! I trust so. The thrust was through the heart, excellency. He never will insult a señorita 

---

again.” 
Señor Zorro looked down at his fallen foe, regarded the governor a moment, then wiped his 
blade on the sash that had bound the comandante’s wrists. He returned the blade to its scabbard 
and picked up his pistol from the table. 
“My night’s work is done,” he said. 
“And you shall hang for it!” his excellency cried. 
“Perhaps—when you catch me,” replied the Curse of Capistrano, bowing ceremoniously. 
Then, without glancing again at the twitching body of him who had been Captain Ramón, he 
whirled through the door and was in the hall, and rushed through it to the patio and to his horse. 
CHAPTER XXXVI 
All Against Them 
AND HE RUSHED INTO DANGER. 
The dawn had come; the first pink streaks had appeared in the eastern sky, and then the sun 
had risen quickly above the heights to the east, and now the plaza was bathed in brilliance. There 
was no mist, no high fog even, and objects on the hillsides far away stood out in relief. It was no 
morning in which to ride for life and freedom. 
Señor Zorro had delayed too long with the governor and comandante, else had misjudged the 
hour. He swung into his saddle and urged his beast out of the patio—and then a full realization of 
his imminent peril came to him. 
Down the trail from San Gabriel came Sergeant Pedro Gonzales and his troopers. Down the 
Pala road came another detachment of soldiers that had been trailing the caballeros and Don 
Carlos and had given up in disgust. Over the hill toward the presidio came the third body of men, 
who had been in chase of those who had rescued the Doña Catalina. Señor Zorro found himself 
hemmed in by his foes. 
The Curse of Capistrano deliberately stopped his horse and for a moment contemplated the 
outlook. He glanced at the three bodies of troopers, estimated the distance. And in that instant one 
with Sergeant Gonzales’s detachment saw him and raised the alarm. 
They knew that magnificent horse, that long purple cloak, that black mask and wide sombrero. 
They saw before them the man they had been pursuing throughout the night, the man who had 
made fools of them and played with them, about the hills and valleys. They feared the rage of his 
excellency and their superior officers, and in their hearts and minds was determination to capture 
or slay this Curse of Capistrano now as this last chance was offered them. 
Señor Zorro put spurs to his horse and dashed across the plaza, in full view of some score of 
citizens. Just as he did that, the governor and his host rushed from the house, shrieking that Señor 
Zorro was a murderer and should be taken. Natives scurried like so many rats for shelter; men of 
rank stood still and gaped in astonishment. 
Señor Zorro, having crossed the plaza, drove his horse at highest speed straight toward the 
highway. Sergeant Gonzales and his troopers rushed to cut him off and turn him back, shrieking at 
one another, pistols in their hands, blades loosened in their scabbards. Reward and promotion and 
satisfaction were to be their lot if they made an end of the highwayman here and now. 
Señor Zorro was forced to swerve from his first course, for he saw that he could not win 
through. He had not taken his pistol from his belt, but he had drawn his blade, and it dangled 
from his right wrist in such fashion that he could grip the hilt of it instantly and put it into play. 
He cut across the plaza again, almost running down several men of rank who were in the way. 

---

He passed within a few paces of the infuriated governor and his host, darted between two houses, 
and rushed toward the hills in that direction. 
It appeared that he had some small chance of escaping the cordon of his foes now. He scorned 
paths and trails, and cut across the open ground. From both sides the troopers galloped to meet 
him, flying toward the angle of the wedge, hoping to reach it in time and turn him back once more. 
Gonzales was shouting orders in his great voice, and he was sending a part of his men down 
into the pueblo, so they would be in proper position in case the highwayman turned back again, 
and could keep him from escaping to the west. 
He reached the highway and started down it toward the south. It was not the direction he 
would have preferred, but he had no choice now. He dashed around a curve in the road, where 
some natives’ huts cut off the view—and suddenly he pulled up his horse, almost unseating himself. 
For here a new menace presented itself. Straight at him along the highway flew a horse and 
rider, and close behind came half a dozen troopers in pursuit. 
Señor Zorro whirled his horse. He could not turn to the right because of a stone fence. His 
horse could have jumped it, but on the other side was soft plowed ground, and he knew he could 
make no progress across it, and that the troopers might cut him down with a pistol bullet. 
Nor could he turn to the left, for there was a sheer precipice down which he could not hope to 
ride with safety. He had to turn back toward Sergeant Gonzales and the men who rode with him, 
hoping to get a distance of a couple of hundred yards, where he could make a descent, before 
Gonzales and his men arrived at the spot. 
He gripped his sword now, and was prepared for fight, for he knew it was going to be close 
work. He glanced back over his shoulder—and gasped his surprise. 
For it was Señorita Lolita Pulido who rode that horse and was pursued by the half-dozen 
troopers, and he had thought her safe at the hacienda of Fray Felipe. Her long black hair was 
down and streaming out behind her. Her tiny heels were glued to the horse’s flanks. She bent 
forward as she rode, holding the reins low down, and Señor Zorro, even in that instant, marveled 
at her skill with a mount. 
“Señor!” he heard her shout. 
And then she had reached his side, and they rode together, dashing down upon Gonzales and 
his troopers. 
“They have been chasing me—for hours!” she gasped. “I escaped them—at Fray Felipe’s!” 
“Ride close! Do not waste breath!” he screeched. 
“My horse—is almost done—Señor!” 
Señor Zorro glanced aside at the beast, and saw that he was suffering from fatigue. But there 
was scant time to consider that now. The soldiers behind had gained some; those in front 
presented a menace that required consideration. 
Down the trail they flew, side by side, straight at Gonzales and his men. Señor Zorro could see 
that pistols were out, and he doubted not that the governor had given orders to get him dead or 
alive, but to see that he did not escape again. 
Now he spurred a few paces in advance of the señorita, and called upon her to ride his horse’s 
tracks. He dropped the reins on his mount’s neck, and held his blade ready. He had two 
weapons—his blade and his horse. 
Then came the crash. Señor Zorro swerved his horse at the proper instant, and the señorita 
followed him. He cut at the trooper on his left, swung over and cut at the one on his right. His 
horse crashed into that of a third trooper, and hurled it against the animal the sergeant rode. 
He heard shrill cries about him. He knew that the men who had been pursuing Señorita Lolita 
had run into the others, and that there was a certain amount of confusion, that they could not use 

---

blades for fear of cutting down one another. 
And then he was through them, with the señorita riding at his side again. Once more he was at 
the edge of the plaza. His horse was showing signs of weariness, and he had gained nothing. 
For the way to San Gabriel was not open, the way to Pala was closed, he could not hope to 
escape by cutting across soft ground, and on the opposite side of the plaza were more troopers, in 
saddle and waiting to cut him off, no matter in which direction he started. 
“We are caught!” he shouted. “But we are not done, señorita!” 
“My horse is stumbling!” she cried. 
Señor Zorro saw that it was so. He knew that the beast could not make another hundred yards. 
“To the tavern!” he cried. 
They galloped straight across the plaza. At the door of the tavern the señorita’s horse staggered 
and fell. Señor Zorro caught the girl in his arms in time to save her from a hard fall and, still 
carrying her, darted through the tavern door. 
“Out!” he cried to the landlord and the native servant. “Out!” he shrieked to half a dozen 
loiterers, exhibiting his pistol. They rushed through the door and into the plaza. 
The highwayman threw the door shut and bolted it. He saw that every window was closed 
except the one that fronted on the plaza, and that the board and skin coverings were in place. He 
stepped to the table and then whirled to face the señorita. 
“It may be the end,” he said. 
“Señor! Surely the saints will be kind to us.” 
“We are beset by foes, señorita. I care not, so that I die fighting as a caballero should. But you, 
señorita—” 
“They shall never put me in the foul 
cárcel again, señor! I swear it! Rather would I die with 
you.” 
She took the sheep skinner’s knife from her bosom, and he caught a glance of it. 
“Not that, señorita!” he cried. 
“I have given you my heart, señor. Either we live together or we die together.” 
CHAPTER XXXVII 
The Fox at Bay 
HE DARTED TO THE WINDOW and glanced out. The troopers were surrounding the 
building. He could see the governor stalking across the plaza, crying his orders. Down the San 
Gabriel trail came the proud Don Alejandro Vega, to pay his visit to the governor, and he stopped 
at the plaza’s edge and began questioning men regarding the cause for the tumult. 
“All are in at the death,” Señor Zorro said, laughing. “I wonder where my brave caballeros are, 
those who rode with me?” 
“You expect their aid?” she asked. 
“Not so, señorita. They would have to stand together and face the governor, tell him their 
intentions. It was a lark with them, and I doubt whether they take it seriously enough to stand by 
me now. It is not to be expected. I fight it out alone.” 
“Not alone, señor, when I am by your side.” 
He clasped her in his arms, pressed her to him. 
“I would we might have our chance,” he said. “But it would be folly for you to let my disaster 
influence your life. You never have seen my face even, señorita. You could forget me. You could 

---

walk from this place and surrender, send word to Don Diego Vega that you will become his bride, 
and the governor then would be forced to release you and clear your parents of all blame.” 
“Ah, señor—” 
“Think, señorita. Think what it would mean. His excellency would not dare stand an instant 
against a Vega. Your parents would have their lands restored. You would be the bride of the 
richest young man in the country. You would have everything to make you happy—” 
“Everything except love, señor, and without love the rest is as nought.” 
“Think, señorita, and decide for once and all. You have but a moment now!” 
“I made my decision long ago, señor. A Pulido loves but once, and does not wed where she 
cannot love.” 
“Cara!” he cried, and pressed her close again. 
Now there came a battering at the door. 
“Señor Zorro!” Sergeant Gonzales cried. 
“Well, señor?” Zorro asked. 
“I have an offer for you from his excellency the governor.” 
“I am listening, loud one.” 
“His excellency has no wish to cause your death or injury to the señorita you have inside with 
you. He asks that you open the door and come out with the lady.” 
“To what end?” Señor Zorro asked. 
“You shall be given a fair trial, and the señorita also. Thus you may escape death and receive 
imprisonment instead.” 
“Ha! I have seen samples of his excellency’s fair trials,” Señor Zorro responded. “Think you I 
am an imbecile?” 
“His excellency bids me say that this is the last chance, that the offer will not be renewed.” 
“His excellency is wise not to waste breath renewing it. He grows fat, and his breath is short.” 
“What can you expect to gain by resistance, save death?” Gonzales asked. “How can you hope 
to offstand a score and a half of us?” 
“It has been done before, loud one.” 
“We can batter in the door and take you.” 
“After a few of you have been stretched lifeless on the floor,” Señor Zorro observed. “Who 
will be the first through the door, my sergeant?” 
“For the last time—” 
“Come in and drink a mug of wine with me,” said the highwayman, laughing. 
“Meal mush and goat’s milk!” swore Sergeant Gonzales. 
There was quiet then for a time, and Señor Zorro, glancing through the window cautiously, so 
as not to attract a pistol shot, observed that the governor was in consultation with the sergeant and 
certain of the troopers. 
The consultation ended, and Señor Zorro darted back from the window. Almost immediately, 
the attack upon the door began. They were pounding at it with heavy timbers, trying to smash it 
down. Señor Zorro, standing in the middle of the room, pointed his pistol at the door and fired, 
and as the ball tore through the wood and somebody outside gave a shriek of pain, he darted to the 
table and started loading the pistol again. 
Then he hurried across to the door, and observed the hole where the bullet had gone through. 
The plank had been split, and there was quite a crack in it. Señor Zorro put the point of his blade 
at this crack, and waited. 
Again the heavy timber crashed against the door, and some trooper threw his weight against it, 
also. Señor Zorro’s blade darted through the crack like a streak of lightning, and came back red, 

---

and again there was a shriek outside. And now a volley of pistol balls came through the door, but 
Señor Zorro, laughing, had sprung back out of harm’s way. 
“Well done, señor!” Señorita Lolita cried. 
“We shall stamp our mark on several of these hounds before we are done,” he replied. 
“I would that I could aid you, señor.” 
“You are doing it, señorita. It is your love that gives me my strength.” 
“If I could use a blade—” 
“Ah, señorita, that is for a man to do. Do you pray that all may be well.” 
“And at the last, señor, if it is seen that there is no hope—may I then see your dear face?” 
“I swear it, señorita, and feel my arms about you, and my lips on yours. Death will not be so 
bitter then.” 
The attack on the door was renewed. Now pistol shots were coming through it regularly, and 
through the one open window also, and there was nothing for Señor Zorro to do except stand in 
the middle of the room and wait, his blade held ready. There would be a lively few minutes, he 
promised, when the door was down and they rushed in at him. 
It seemed to be giving way now. The señorita crept close to him, tears streaming down her 
cheeks, and grasped him by the arm. 
“You will not forget?” she asked. 
“I’ll not forget, señorita.” 
“Just before they break down the door, señor. Take me in your arms and let me see your dear 
face and kiss me. Then I can die with good grace, too.” 
“You must live—” 
“Not to be sent to a foul 
cárcel, señor. And what would life be without you?” 
“There is Don Diego—” 
“I think of nobody but you, señor. A Pulido will know how to die. And perhaps my death will 
bring home to men the perfidy of the governor. Perhaps it may be of service.” 
Again the heavy timber struck against the door. They could hear his excellency shouting 
encouragement to the troopers, could hear the natives shrieking and Sergeant Gonzales crying his 
orders in his loud voice. 
Señor Zorro hurried to the window again, chancing a bullet, and glanced out. He saw that half 
a dozen troopers had their blades ready, were prepared to rush over the door the moment it was 
down. They would get him—but he would get some of them first! Again the ram against the door. 
“It is almost the end, señor,” the girl whispered. 
“I know it, señorita.” 
“I would we had had better fortune, yet I can die gladly since this love has been in my life. 
Now—Señor—your face and lips. The door—is crashing in!” 
She ceased to sob, and lifted her face bravely. Señor Zorro sighed, and one hand fumbled with 
the bottom of his mask. 
But suddenly there was a tumult outside in the plaza, and the battering at the door ceased, and 
they could hear loud voices that they had not heard before. 
Señor Zorro let go of his mask, and darted to the window. 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
The Man Unmasked 
TWENTY-THREE HORSEMEN WERE GALLOPING into the plaza. The beasts they rode 

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were magnificent, their saddles and bridles were heavily chased with silver, their cloaks were of the 
finest materials, and they wore hats with plumes, as if this was somewhat of a dress affair and they 
wished the world to know it. Each man sat straight and proud in his saddle, his blade at his side, 
and every blade had a jeweled hilt, being at once serviceable and a rich ornament. 
They galloped along the face of the tavern, between the door and the soldiers who had been 
battering it, between the building and the governor and assembled citizens, and there they turned 
and stood their horses side by side, facing his excellency. 
“Wait! There is a better way!” their leader cried. 
“Ha!” screeched the governor. “I understand. Here we have the young men of all the noble 
families in the southland. They have come to show their loyalty by taking this Curse of Capistrano. 
I thank you, caballeros. Yet it is not my wish to have any of you slain by this fellow. He is not 
worthy your blades, señores. Do you ride to one side and lend the strength of your presence, and 
let my troopers deal with the rogue. Again I thank you for this show of loyalty, for this 
demonstration that you stand for law and order and all it means, for constituted authority—” 
“Peace!” their leader cried. “Your excellency, we represent power in this section, do we not?” 
“You do, caballeros,” the governor said. 
“Our families say who shall rule, what laws shall be just, do they not?” 
“They have great influence,” the governor said. 
“You would not care to stand alone against us?” 
“Most assuredly not!” his excellency cried. “But I pray you, let the troopers get this fellow. It is 
not seemly that a caballero should suffer wound or death from his blade.” 
“It is to be regretted that you do not understand.” 
“Understand?” queried the governor, in a questioning tone, glancing up and down the line of 
mounted men. 
“We have taken counsel with ourselves, excellency. We know our strength and power, and we 
have decided upon certain things. There have been things done that we cannot countenance. 
“The 
frailes of the missions have been despoiled by officials. Natives have been treated worse 
than dogs. Even men of noble blood have been robbed because they have not been friendly to the 
ruling powers.” 
“Caballero—” 
“Peace, excellency, until I have done. This thing came to a crisis when a hidalgo and his wife 
and daughter were thrown into a 
cárcel by your orders. Such a thing cannot be countenanced, 
excellency, and so we have banded ourselves together, and here we take a hand. Be it known that 
we ourselves rode with this Señor Zorro when he invaded the 
cárcel and rescued the prisoners, 
that we carried Don Carlos and the Doña Catalina to places of safety, and that we have pledged 
our words and honors and blades that they shall not be persecuted more.” 
“I would say—” 
“Silence, until I have done! We stand together, and the strength of our united families is 
behind us. Call upon your soldiers to attack us, if you dare! Every man of noble blood up and 
down the length of El Camino Real would flock to our defense, would unseat you from your 
office, would see you humbled. We await your answer, excellency.” 
“What—what would you?” his excellency gasped. 
“First, proper consideration for Don Carlos Pulido and his family. No 
cárcel for them. If you 
have the courage to try them for treason, be sure that we will be on hand at the trial, and deal with 
any man who gives perjured testimony, and with any 
magistrado who does not conduct himself 
properly. We are determined, excellency.” 
“Perhaps I was hasty in the matter, but I was led to believe certain things,” the governor said. “I 

---

grant you your wish. One side now, caballeros, while my men get at this rogue in the tavern.” 
“We are not done,” their leader said. “We have things to say regarding this Señor Zorro. What 
has he done—actually—excellency? Is he guilty of any treason? He has robbed no man except those 
who robbed the defenseless first. He has whipped a few unjust persons. He has taken sides with 
the persecuted, for which we honor him. To do such a thing, he took his life in his own hands. He 
successfully evaded your soldiers. He resented insults, as any man has the right to do.” 
“What would you?” 
“A complete pardon, here and now, for this man known as Señor Zorro.” 
“Never!” the governor cried. “He has affronted me personally. He shall die the death!” He 
turned around and saw Don Alejandro Vega standing near him. “Don Alejandro, you are the most 
influential man in this south country,” he said. “You are the one man against whom even the 
governor dare not stand. You are a man of justice. Tell these young caballeros that what they wish 
cannot be granted. Bid them retire to their homes, and this show of treason will be forgotten.” 
“I stand behind them!” Don Alejandro thundered. 
“You—you stand behind them?” 
“I do, your excellency. I echo every word they have spoken in your presence. Persecution must 
cease. Grant their requests, see that your officials do right hereafter, return to San Francisco de 
Asis, and I take my oath that there shall be no treason in this southland. I shall see to it myself. But 
oppose them, excellency, and I shall take sides against you, see you driven from office and ruined, 
and your foul parasites with you.” 
“This terrible, willful southland!” the governor cried. 
“Your answer?” Don Alejandro demanded. 
“I can do nothing but agree,” the governor said. “But there is one thing—” 
“Well!” 
“I spare the man’s life if he surrenders, but he must stand trial for the murder of Captain 
Ramón.” 
“Murder?” queried the leader of the caballeros, “It was a duel between gentlemen, excellency. 
Señor Zorro resented an insult on the part of the comandante to the señorita.” 
“Ha! But Ramón was a caballero—” 
“And so is this Señor Zorro. He told us as much, and we believe him, for there was no 
falsehood in his voice. So it was a duel, excellency, and between gentlemen, according to the code, 
and Captain Ramón was unfortunate that he was not a better man with a blade. That is 
understood? Your answer.” 
“I agree,” the governor said weakly. “I pardon him, and I go home to San Francisco de Asis, 
and persecution ceases in this locality. But I hold Don Alejandro to his promise—that there be no 
treason against me here if I do these things.” 
“I have given my word,” Don Alejandro said. 
The caballeros shrieked their happiness and dismounted. They drove the soldiers away from 
the door, Sergeant Gonzales growling into his mustache because here was a reward gone glim-
mering again. 
“Within there, Señor Zorro!” one cried. “Have you heard?” 
“I have heard, caballero!” 
“Open the door and come out amongst us—a free man!” 
There was a moment’s hesitation, and then the battered door was unbarred and opened, and 
Señor Zorro stepped out with the señorita on his arm. He stopped just in front of the door, 
removed his sombrero and bowed low before them. 
“A good day to you, caballeros!” he cried. “Sergeant, I regret that you have missed the reward, 

---

but I shall see that the amount is placed to the credit of you and your men with the landlord of the 
tavern.” 
“By the saints, he is a caballero!” Gonzales cried. 
“Unmask, man!” cried the governor. “I would see the features of the person who has fooled 
my troopers, has gained caballeros to his banner, and has forced me to make a compromise.” 
“I fear that you will be disappointed when you see my poor features,” Señor Zorro replied. 
“Do you expect me to look like Satan? Or can it be possible, on the other hand, that you believe I 
have an angelic countenance?” 
He chuckled, glanced down at the Señorita Lolita, and then put up a hand and tore off his 
mask. 
A chorus of gasps answered the motion, an explosive oath or two from the soldiers, cries of 
delight from the caballeros, and a screech of mingled pride and joy from one old hidalgo. 
“Don Diego, my son—my son!” 
And the man before them seemed to droop suddenly in the shoulders, and sighed, and spoke 
in a languid voice. 
“These be turbulent times. Can a man never meditate on music and the poets?” 
And Don Diego Vega, the Curse of Capistrano, was clasped for a moment in his father’s arms. 
CHAPTER XXXIX 
“Meal Mush and Goat’s Milk!” 
THEY CROWDED FORWARD—troopers, natives, caballeros, surrounding Don Diego Vega 
and the señorita who clutched at his arm and looked up at him from proud and glistening eyes. 
“Explain! Explain!” they cried. 
“It began ten years ago, when I was but a lad of fifteen,” he said. “I heard tales of persecution. I 
saw my friends, the 
frailes, annoyed and robbed. I saw soldiers beat an old native who was my 
friend. And then I determined to play this game. 
“It would be a difficult game to play, I knew. So I pretended to have small interest in life, so 
that men never would connect my name with that of the highwayman I expected to become. In 
secret, I practiced horsemanship and learned how to handle a blade—” 
“By the saints, he did,” Sergeant Gonzales growled. 
“One half of me was the languid Don Diego you all knew, and the other half was the Curse of 
Capistrano I hoped one day to be. And then the time came, and my work began. 
“It is a peculiar thing to explain, señores. The moment I donned cloak and mask, the Don 
Diego part of me fell away. My body straightened, new blood seemed to course through my veins, 
my voice grew strong and firm, fire came to me! And the moment I removed cloak and mask I was 
the languid Don Diego again. Is it not a peculiar thing? 
“I had made friends with this great Sergeant Gonzales, and for a purpose.” 
“Ha! I guess the purpose, caballeros!” Gonzales cried. “You tired whenever this Señor Zorro 
was mentioned, and did not wish to hear of violence and bloodshed, but always you asked me in 
what direction I was going with my troopers—and you went in the other direction and did your 
confounded work.” 
“You are an excellent guesser,” said Don Diego, laughing, as did the others about him. “I even 
crossed blades with you, so you would not guess I was Señor Zorro. You remember the rainy night 
at the tavern? I listened to your boasts, went out and donned mask and cloak, came in and fought 
you, escaped, took off mask and cloak, and returned to jest with you.” 

---

“Ha!” 
“I visited the Pulido hacienda as Don Diego and a short time later returned as Señor Zorro 
and held speech with the señorita here. You almost had me, sergeant, that night at Fray Felipe’s—
the first night, I mean.” 
“Ha! You told me there that you had not seen Señor Zorro.” 
“Nor had I. The 
fray does not keep a mirror, thinking that it makes for vanity. The other 
things were not difficult, of course. You can easily understand how, as Señor Zorro, I happened to 
be at my own house in town when the comandante insulted the señorita. 
“And the señorita must forgive me the deception. I courted her as Don Diego, and she would 
have none of me. Then I tried it as Señor Zorro, and the saints were kind, and she gave me her 
love. 
“Perhaps there was some method in that, also. For she turned from the wealth of Don Diego 
Vega to the man she loved, though she deemed him, then, an outcast and outlaw. 
“She has showed me her true heart, and I am rejoiced at it. Your excellency, this señorita is to 
become my wife, and I take it you will think twice before you will annoy her family further.” 
His excellency threw out his hands in a gesture of resignation. 
“It was difficult to fool you all, but it has been done,” Don Diego continued. “Only years of 
practice allowed me to accomplish it. And now Señor Zorro shall ride no more, for there will be 
no need, and moreover a married man should take some care of his life.” 
“And what man do I wed?” the Señorita Lolita asked, blushing because she spoke the words 
where all could hear. 
“What man do you love?” 
“I had fancied that I loved Señor Zorro, but it comes to me now that I love the both of them,” 
she said. “Is it not shameless? But I would rather have you Señor Zorro than the old Don Diego I 
knew.” 
“We shall endeavor to establish a golden mean,” he replied, laughing again. “I shall drop the 
old languid ways and change gradually into the man you would have me. People will say that 
marriage made a man of me.” 
He stooped and kissed her there before them all. 
“Meal mush and goat’s milk!” swore Sergeant Gonzales.