Gustave Aimard
The Flying Horseman

Terror reigned in Tucumán; a military regime, the abuse of power, the scorn of private rights, had in the name of liberty inaugurated an era of blood and tears.

On learning this sad news, a shudder of horror had run through the limbs of the Montonero; the whole night was passed by him in sleepless anxiety. He shuddered with shame and indignation on thinking of the abyss suddenly opened by the hideous ambition of this man without faith and without morality – an abyss in which was about to be engulfed for ever the independence of his country, and those privileges so dearly bought by ten years' obstinate struggle.

But Don Zeno Cabral was not only a good-hearted man, but one of those energetic natures, immovable in their convictions, who are rather excited than discouraged by obstacles, and who, rising with the danger, always find themselves on a level with the situation, whatever it may be, in which they are placed. At the break of day his resolution was taken – to save his country from the ruin with which it was threatened, whatever might be the consequences to himself. His plan carefully laid, he immediately proceeded to execute it. But as the Montonero was as prudent and wily as he was brave, notwithstanding the boundless confidence which he had in his companions, he allowed them to remain ignorant of the facts which had transpired in their absence. After having exacted from the scout that brought him the news a solemn promise to keep what he had learned a profound secret, he left his squadron, and boldly proceeded towards the low-lying ground, so as to obtain personally the information which was indispensable to him to put his projects into execution, maintaining some reserve, however, in case it might afterwards be necessary to fully acquaint his soldiers with all the facts, certain of the support that they would be sure to give him.

A journey through the Cordilleras was nothing for Zeno Cabral, whose whole life had been passed in the Pampas.

But it was only towards the evening of the third day after his departure from the camp that he at last reached the plains, at the moment when the sun sank behind the horizon, and darkness began to envelope the landscape.

Zeno Cabral, fatigued by a long march, immediately sought a favourable spot to establish his camp.

The search was not long. Before him, a rather broad river, with ripples like emeralds, wound its devious course. Like an experienced man who had long known the localities which he traversed, the Montonero proceeded towards some rather high ground which projected itself into the bed of the river, and the barren tops and sides of which offered a safe refuge against stragglers – men or beasts – who in these llanos (plains) are incessantly on the watch for travellers.

CHAPTER XII
A DOUBLE DUEL

Although the Montonero had gained, thanks to the rapidity with which he travelled, the temperate climate of the Cordilleras, and already, felt, during the day, considerable heat, the nights were, nevertheless, cold and even frosty. The traveller was no further concerned about this fact, than to envelope himself carefully in his poncho, his blankets, and his pellones, before going to sleep. But, notwithstanding all these precautions, towards midnight the north wind became so sharp and the cold so piercing, that Don Zeno awoke, and after a desperate attempt to get to sleep again, was constrained to admit himself vanquished; he leaped up, half-frozen, from under his coverings, and proceeded to seat himself near the half-extinguished fire.

The night, illumined by the pale rays of the moon, was calm and beautiful; here and there the owlets flitted about, attracted by the hum of the horn beetles, on which they feed, and which fluttered round the fire; while the grey owls of the Pampa, gravely perched on the low branches of the trees, fixed, with a melancholy air, their round eyes on the encampment of the wanderer. In the distance, in the thickets, were heard the sad howlings of wolves, with which, at long intervals, was mingled a sonorous and piercing wail, immediately answered by another of the same kind in an opposite direction. When this sinister wail arose on the air, all the cries of the desert were immediately stilled, and a trembling agitated the thickets under the frightened steps of the escaping animals, for they recognised the formidable cry of the cougar. The tyrant of the Pampa was in quest of prey, and was hunting in company with his family.

Zeno Cabral was too familiar with the sounds of the desert, to trouble himself with the howlings of the wild beasts, even though they seemed rapidly to approach the spot that he had chosen for his night encampment. He contented himself by speaking to his horse, tied a few paces off, and to soothe the poor animal, whom the growling of the tigers made to tremble; and he then returned to seat himself near the fire, giving up the idea of sleep, making a cigarette, and looking carelessly around him, rather from listlessness than from fear.

We have said that the night was splendid; the sky appeared a dome of diamonds, and the superb regulation which marked the landscape here and there, looked like dark masses, the outlines of which were sweetly brought out by the moonlight. Innumerable glow worms scattered brilliant sparks among the branches, while millions of invisible insects hummed or buzzed among the shrubbery.

These natural beauties, joined to the measured sound of the waves of a large river, which, like a silver ribbon, made its capricious windings a little distance off, and to the calm majesty of the night, presented a spectacle which, by degrees, excited the impressionable mind of the bold Montonero, and plunged him into a melancholy reverie, in which all his faculties were soon so completely absorbed, that he not only lost the consciousness of the place in which he was, but of the disagreeable guests by which he was surrounded. In fact, he gave himself up to those mocking chimeras which sometimes visit the brain, and make us the sport of our own imaginations.

The Montonero had been for some time plunged in this reverie, when he felt himself struck by the same feeling of cold which, two hours before, had interrupted his sleep.

The young man raised his head, repressing a slight shiver, and wrapping himself in his poncho he looked around him.

Two men gravely crouched before the fire in front of him looked at him attentively, while they smoked their tobacco rolled in dry leaves. The two men were armed, their guns lying on their knees.

Notwithstanding the natural surprise that he manifested, on thus suddenly perceiving people whom he was far from expecting at that advanced hour of the night, and especially in the depths of the desert, the countenance of the Montonero remained impassive.

"Oh! Oh!" said he in Spanish, trying to distinguish through the curtain of flame that was between them, what sort of people they were with whom he had to do – whether they were friends or enemies – "You travel late, señores. No matter, you are welcome to my watch fire: if you are hungry or thirsty, speak – I have some provisions which I shall be happy to share with you."

"The palefaces have their ears stopped when their eyes are closed," answered one of the strangers; "it is easy to get at them."

"That is true," answered the young man, smiling, for at the first word he had recognised his interlocutor; "you are right, Cougar; we whites, however great may be our knowledge of the desert, never reach that degree of perfection that you possess, and we allow ourselves to be surprised; but this time, if I have been so, it is by friends whom I am happy to see, for I was looking for them, and am glad to see them."

"Then," said Gueyma, smiling, "you have no rancour against us in thus suddenly surprising you?"

"Far from it; besides, do you not know that, in all places, and at all hours, I shall be charmed to receive your visits? But now comes it that you find yourselves in these latitudes just at the same time as I?"

"Have you, then, forgotten the meeting that you arranged?" asked the Cougar.

"Certainly not; but, if my calculations are right, you should have been here a long time already."

"In fact," pursued Gueyma, "we are three hours behind time."

"It is no reproach, chief, which I address to you; on the contrary, as I believe you will have already observed, I have had the liveliest desire to see you," eagerly answered the Montonero. "I repeat that I have sought you."

"That is well, and the Cougar has been well inspired, when, on seeing the light of your fire, he induced me to come with him on the lookout."

"I acknowledge the prudence of the wisdom of the Cougar; thanks to him, we avoid a great loss of time for the realisation of our projects, the success of which, I with pleasure announce to you, is assured."

"Oh! Do you speak seriously, my brother?" cried Gueyma, with joy.

"You shall soon judge of that; but let us speak of preliminaries. You have been detained, you say?"

"Yes," answered the Cougar: "in the first place, we were joined by one of the principal chiefs of our tribe, who, at the head of a small detachment of warriors, crossed the desert to confirm us in the news that we had already received, as to the treason of the – "

"Ah?" cried Zeno Cabral. "And that chief was sent to you by – "

"By Tarou Niom himself," said the Cougar; "his name is Arnal," added he, darting a significant look at the Montonero.

"Arnal!" cried the latter, with a nervous start and a frown.

"My brother knows the chief, then?" asked Gueyma.

"I?" asked Zeno Cabral, with feigned indifference; "My brother is joking, no doubt; how should I know him?"

"Certainly, that is not to be expected, unless my brother has formerly traversed the hunting grounds of my tribe."

"I have never turned my horse's head in that direction. The chief has doubtless returned, then, after having accomplished his mission."

"No; he has remained with as," said the Cougar, "but our troop has since been increased."

"Other warriors have joined it?"

"No, they are travellers; whites."

"Whites?"

"Yes, six of them."

"Ah," cried the Montonero, with a strange expression, "white travellers in these parts, at this time of the year, is very singular; perhaps they are enemies, who have been surprised by you, as I myself have been."

"No, they are visitors; they have, of their own accord, presented themselves to us and claimed our aid."

"And?" said he, with ill-concealed anxiety.

"We have received them according to the laws of Indian hospitality; they are our brothers, and Arnal insisted that we should treat them as such."

"Confound it!" cried the Montonero, stamping with rage, as he rose.

"Is this news bad, then, for my brother?" asked Gueyma.

But Zeno Cabral had, by a violent effort, already regained self-possession.

"My brother is deceived," he answered, smiling. "This news does not concern me in any way. What are these men to me?"

"Two of them are women," slyly remarked the Cougar.

The Montonero feigned not to hear this observation. He turned away to hide the trouble that it caused him, and, leaning his head forward:

"Do you hear?" he said, making a sign for them to listen.

"We have heard that for some time," answered Gueyma.

"The wild beasts approach; they are roaming about. I do not know how it is, I feel a great desire to kill them," said the Montonero.

"A desire easy to satisfy," answered the old chief, "The lions will be here before ten minutes."

"Do you think so?"

"I am sure of it. Listen."

The three men had risen, and, with hands on their firearms, their bodies leaning forward, their eyes fixed on the thickets, and their ears on the watch, they remained stationary. No sound was heard but those undefined noises which are peculiar to the desert during the night.

Suddenly a trembling and a cracking of branches was heard in the woods which adjoined the camp. Then, in two or three minutes, the same trembling was repeated on the opposite side, on the sombre edge of the forest, and in the low branches of a tree, in the midst of a thicket of leaves, appeared, brilliant as two fire brands, the eyes of a wild beast.

The animal, after a moment of fear, advanced a little, throwing frightened looks to the right and the left. Then he commenced to creep gently along the branch on which he was placed, and soon all his body emerged from the shade, and stood out boldly in the light.

It was a cougar, or lion of America, of the most beautiful kind, and all the maturity of age, as was easy to see by its skin, which, instead of being of a woolly texture, crossed by little brown streaks, was of an agreeable and uniform tawny colour, without any admixture. Its ears, which were thrown back, were black, as well as the end of its tail. Its length was about seven feet.

It was lying, or rather crouching, on the branch. Its head was placed on its paws, which were stretched out. Its tail lashed its sides with force, and its eyes were directed with a strange gaze on the fire behind which the three men were hidden. After some minutes of this singular contemplation, the lion opened its mouth tremendously wide, and uttered a harsh growl. At the same instant a similar growl burst forth, but so startling and so near, that the three men started, and became alert in a moment.

At about twenty paces at the most from them, hidden in the same way in the low branches of a tree, a second cougar, just like the first, fixed on them his glaring eyes.

The situation became complicated.

"Well," said the Montonero, "we are more happy than we thought. Instead of one lion, we have two."

"Perhaps we shall have three," answered Gueyma.

"Abundance of good will not hurt us. But, however, that would astonish me."

"Listen," resumed the chief.

In fact a strong agitation, resembling that of a hasty march in the thicket, was heard.

"This is not the sound caused by a wild beast," murmured the old chief, shaking his head. "It is the step of a man."

"A man!" cried Gueyma and the Montonero; "It is impossible."

At the same moment the underwood was divided, and a man leaped into the midst of the camp.

It was no other than Emile Gagnepain.

His chest was heaving; notwithstanding the cold, his countenance, perspiring freely, bore witness to the violent exercise which he had undergone, and the rapid course which he had just made through the thickets, in the midst of which he had left his hat and even scraps of his clothes.

He held a double-barrelled gun in his hand. At first, blinded by the sudden transition from darkness to light, the young man could distinguish but imperfectly the persons to whom he had so abruptly introduced himself, but he soon distinguished the two Indians.

"Ah! Pardieu, gentlemen," cried he, getting his breath with difficulty; "I have been hunting this wild beast for the last three hours; I hope you will let me kill this magnificent animal."

"Be it so!" courteously answered the two Indians, putting the butt of their guns to the ground.

"But in case of danger, I shall be ready to come to your aid," said Zeno Cabral.

The painter turned quickly.

"Ah! It is you, Don Zeno!" said he, giving him his hand. "What a singular meeting!"

"Very singular!"

"Why does not the animal stir?"

"For a very simple reason – because he fears to do so."

"You think so?"

"Certainly, but be easy; he, or rather they, will soon take courage."

"What do you mean by they?"

"Why, look on this side; here is a second cougar, I think."

"Upon my word, that's true. How shall we kill both?"

"I will aid you."

"You are very good. I confess that I am already slightly embarrassed in regard to the first, without wishing to tackle the second."

"The second is a female."

"What a misfortune," said the painter laughingly, "to carry trouble into a household that appears so united! Eh, but," he added, "they are waking up, I think."

"Attention! They will not be long before they attack us."

The Indian chiefs had remarked with astonishment the recognition between the two men; but as the time was not propitious for an explanation, they were contented to exchange a significant look.

Meanwhile, although only ten minutes had passed since the sudden apparition of the cougars and the unforeseen arrival of the young Frenchman, the beasts remained passive on their respective branches. This fact, which may seem extraordinary, ought to be explained.

Although the cougar is the greatest and most powerful carnivorous animal of South America – committing enormous ravages among the flocks, and attacking generally all the animals that he meets – he flies away from man, for whom he has an instinctive horror. It is only when pushed to the last extremity, and literally to save his own life, that he at last resolves to face his assailant; but then he becomes terrible, defends himself with unparalleled desperation, will not retreat an inch, and only falls when dead.

The two lions, male and female, had at sunset left their den to go in pursuit of prey. After having traversed the desert in all directions, they saw the fire or the Montonero's encampment, and, attracted by the light, they gradually approached it, creeping along with that light and elegant suppleness which characterises the feline race, bounding from tree to tree, gliding along the branches. But on seeing the men motionless and firm before them, they had immediately stopped, doubtless hoping that they would not be discovered by their implacable enemy, and apparently contemplating seeking their safety in immediate flight. But when the hunters had risen and had seized their arms, the cougars had perceived that all chance of safety had gone, and they prepared to fight; then, having uttered a roar to give a mutual warning, they seemed to think it a favourable moment to spring upon the hunters.

At the cry of warning by the Montonero, Emile had suddenly darted backward and shouldered his gun.

Almost immediately the two wild animals, as if by mutual agreement, uttered a roar of anger, and darting at once with a terrible bound, they threw themselves upon the hunters.

But the latter were on their guard; without retreating a step, they attacked the animals as they leaped, and seizing their guns by the barrel, they fought body to body with the animals. It was a terrible and desperate combat.

Emile, although it was the first time he had found himself an actor in so dangerous a hunt, and the first time he had seen such awkward game, exhibited remarkable coolness, not slipping the trigger of his gun till he had taken very careful aim of his adversary, and then, when his piece was discharged, he abandoned it to take two pistols from his girdle.

The two Indians had succeeded in easily overcoming the lioness, which Gueyma had seriously wounded in the right shoulder, whilst the ball of the old chief had broken its loins. The animal had fallen nearly dead, and the last convulsions of its agony were all they had to fear; the struggle in this direction had not been long.

But as to the lion, it was a very different affair. Although the two balls of the hunters had pierced his body, his leap had nevertheless been so well calculated, that he had actually sprung on the Montonero. The latter, overturned by the shock, had rolled a few paces, horribly torn, bruised, and half fainting, and consequently not in a position to defend himself.

The animal had been stunned by the prodigious leap that he had made. Weakened by the blood that he was losing, and that was flowing in streams from his wounds, he remained a minute motionless on his trembling haunches; then uttering a dull growl of rage, and hollowing the sand with his powerful paws, he seemed to be gathering his strength to leap again on the enemy, who was stretched on the ground a few paces before him.

Emile, under these desperate circumstances, consulting only his own heart and the horrible situation of the Montonero, resolved to save him even at the peril of his own life. Loading his pistols, he threw himself boldly between the man and the lion.

The animal, startled and perhaps frightened by the sudden apparition of this new adversary, who placed himself so boldly at but a few paces from him, crouched close to the ground, with his ears hanging down, and looked at him with a malicious air, uttering a dull and sullen growl, which, with animals of the feline tribe, denotes the last paroxysm of rage.

"Upon my word," murmured the Frenchman, with a sly smile, looking his formidable adversary in the face, "this is what I call a splendid duel, and if I fall, it will at least be under the efforts of a lion – that is some comfort."

And he burst into such a hearty fit of laughter, that the Indian chiefs, notwithstanding their habitual self-control, could not repress a gesture of astonishment. They thought that fright had driven away the senses of the Frenchman.

But Emile had never been more master of himself; his mind had never been clearer, or his coolness greater; but Frenchman, and above all Parisian as he was, the devil-me-care spirit of the gamin had become paramount, and he would not play the game of life and death without risking a last joke.

While speaking thus he had coolly raised his pistols, and at the moment when the lion was nerving himself to spring upon him, he fired.

The animal bounded from the spot, uttering a terrible howl, and fell dead.

"Upon my word," said the painter, laughing, "I thought it was more difficult than that; the lion seems to me to have gained a false reputation, or else he must have considerably degenerated; no matter, it is very diverting sport."

After this soliloquy, he hastened towards Zeno Cabral, near whom were the two chiefs.

The former had regained consciousness, and assisted by his friends he attempted to stand up – ashamed, bold and expert sportsman as he was, that he had been so rudely overcome by a wild beast.

On seeing the young man, who held out his hand to him smiling, an expression of gratitude illumined his manly countenance.

"Don Emile," said he, with deep emotion, "once more I owe you my life; I shall never be able to pay my debt."

"Perhaps, señor," answered the young man significantly.

"Oh!" cried he, earnestly, "I swear to you, Don Emile, by all that is sacred in the world, that whatever you ask of me, at whatever time, or in whatever place, I will do it without hesitation, even if it risked that life which you have twice saved, and which henceforth belongs to you."

"I rely upon your word, Señor Don Zeno," seriously answered the young man; "I will remind you of it, if occasion requires."

"You will always find me ready to keep my word."

Too weak to remain longer standing, he seated himself before the fire, and his friends took their places by his side.