قراءة كتاب The Harlequin Opal, Vol. 3 (of 3) A Romance
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THE
HARLEQUIN OPAL
A ROMANCE
BY
FERGUS HUME
Author of "The Island of Fantasy," "Aladdin in London," etc.
Volume III
Once a realm of Indian glory,
Famed in Aztec song and story,
Fabled by Tradition hoary
As an earthly Paradise;
Now a land of love romances,
Serenades, bolero dances,
Looks of scorn, adoring glances,
Under burning tropic skies.
LONDON
W. H. ALLEN & CO., LIMITED
13, WATERLOO PLACE, S.W.
1893
WYMAN AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND REDHILL.
PROEM.
The stone had its birth in the nurturing earth.
Its home in the heart of the main,
From the coraline caves it was tossed by the waves
On the breast of an aureate plain;
And the spirits who dwell in the nethermost hell
Stored fire in its bosom of white;
The sylphs of the air made it gracious and fair
With the blue of the firmament's height.
The dull gnomes I ween, gave it glittering sheen.
Till yellow as gold it became:
The nymphs of the sea made the opal to be
A beacon of emerald flame.
The many tints glow, they come and they go
At bidding of spirits abhorr'd,
When one ray is bright, in the bosom of white,
Its hue tells the fate of its lord.
For yellow hints wealth, and blue meaneth health,
While green forbodes passing of gloom,
But beware of the red, 'tis an omen of dread,
Portending disaster and doom.
INDEX.
| CHAP. | PAGE | |
| I.— | Within the Walls | 1 |
| II.— | The Fall of Janjalla | 22 |
| III.— | The Flight to Tlatonac | 44 |
| IV.— | Exit Don Francisco Gomez | 60 |
| V.— | The Indian Raid | 76 |
| VI.— | The Luck of the Opal | 96 |
| VII.— | Under the Opal Flag | 113 |
| VIII.— | The Battle of Centeotl | 131 |
| IX.— | The Triumph of the Republic | 154 |
| X.— | The Canon Road | 167 |
| XI.— | The Destiny of the Opal | 191 |
| XII.— | Farewell, Tlatonac! | 219 |
THE HARLEQUIN OPAL.
CHAPTER I.
WITHIN THE WALLS.
Circle of stone,
Circle of steel,
Loyalists true,
Pent up in battle belts twain;
Yet we, alone,
Doubly feel,
That with our few,
We shall a victory gain.
Climb up our foes,
Over the wall,
Deep bit the swords,
Fiercely the cannon spout fire;
Yet 'neath our blows,
Downward they fall,
Traitorous hordes,
In torment and blood to expire.
Tim at once took his friends to his quarters, and made them comfortable, but scarcely had they finished a hurried meal, when an aide-de-camp arrived from General Gigedo requiring their presence without delay. As Peter had received a nasty blow on the head during the mêlée, Jack insisted that he should remain behind and rest himself. Peter feebly remonstrated against this arrangement, as he wanted to accompany his friends, but in the end was forced to yield to their insistence. Then Duval buckled on his sword, slipped his revolvers into his belt, and went off with Tim to report himself at head-quarters.
Both of them were terribly alarmed about Philip. In the first burst of emotion Jack had deemed his friend dead; but, on looking at the matter calmly, it seemed probable that he would yet turn up well and unhurt. It was impossible that Indians, in whatever number, could utterly exterminate a body of disciplined troops amounting to a thousand men. Tim's opinion was that if they had been attacked and overpowered by strategy, they had fled to the nearest town for shelter. As he had marched overland with Colonel Garibay from Tlatonac, he knew the country better than did Jack, and proceeded to defend his theory of the reinforcements' safety, by describing the position of the towns.
"It's a hundred miles or more as the crow flies from Tlatonac to this God-forsaken place. Within that limit are four towns, no less—one every twenty miles. When we marched south two weeks ago, we first went to Chichimec, then to Puebla de los Naranjos, which last one is midway. Hermanita is next, and then after dropping in at Centeotl, we came on to Janjalla!"
"Still, if the Indians surprised them by night they might have surrounded and exterminated the whole lot. To my mind nothing is so dangerous as a despised enemy."
"What!" cried Tim, with great contempt, "d'you mean to tell me that a lot of naked savages could manage that. By my soul, 'tis impossible!"
"But, my dear fellow, the Indians are out in thousands.