Майн Рид
Gaspar the Gaucho: A Story of the Gran Chaco
Chapter Fifty Seven.
The Captive Recaptured
Impossible to describe the feelings of Caspar, when having recovered his feet after the tumble out of his recado, he finds that Shebotha has got away from him. It is some consolation to know that neither himself nor his horse has received serious injury. Still not sufficient to satisfy him, nor allay the wild exasperation burning within his breast, which seeks to vent itself in a string of maledictions poured plenteously from his lips.
As the hag, however, has surely succeeded in getting off, and it would be idle to attempt pursuing through the thick scrub, his anathemas hurled after her are all in vain: and, at thought of this, he soon ceases to pronounce them. For the reflection quick follows, that he and his companions have now something else to think about – their own safety, doubly endangered by Shebotha’s escape.
“Mil demonios!” is his last exclaim of the kind, after getting his horse upright again and himself back into the saddle, “who’d have believed the old beldame had so much suppleness in her joints? But it’s no joking matter. Only to think of it! Everything looking so bright, and now Satan’s luck once more back upon us – bad, if not worse, than ever! Well, we mustn’t dilly-dally here. If there’s still a chance left us, we’ll have to look for it down below, by that big cotton tree.”
Saying which, he again gives the rein to his horse, and continues the descent of the hill, the others head and tail close after.
On reaching the said cotton tree, however, Gaspar changes his mind about that spot being the best for their temporary abiding place. Since its being arranged as a rendezvous with Nacena, the circumstances have sadly altered, and, on reflection, he deems it better, as do the others, to keep on along the road towards the tolderia– at least for some little distance. There can be no harm in that, nor danger of their going astray. The path is a plain one, much trampled by horses and cattle, and, notwithstanding the darkness of the night, easily discernible. If fortune so far favour them, that the captive will be coming that way, under the guidance of the Indian girl, the sooner these be met the more chance for all eventually getting safe off, rescuers as rescued.
So concluding, they make scarce a moment’s halt by the ceiba; but, passing under its umbrageous branches, head their horses along the trail leading to the town.
At this moment were it daylight, or even a clear moonlight, one placed upon the brow of the hill fronting south-eastward, and looking down to the level plain by its base, would behold two separate parties moving upon it, but in opposite directions, so that, if they continue to advance, they must meet. One party is mounted, the other afoot; the former being Gaspar and his two companions, while the latter is also composed of three individuals – Nacena, Francesca, and Shebotha’s slave. The two girls, going in a half-run, are side by side, and ahead of the man; who, less free of foot, has fallen behind them to a distance of some twenty or thirty paces. Nacena, who knows the way, guides the escaping captive, and has hold of her by the hand. They are now not more than half-a-mile from the mounted party, coming the opposite way, and in a few minutes should meet it, if nothing prevent. Already within hailing distance, they might hear one another’s voices; but neither being aware of this mutual proximity, all advance in silence – the trio on horseback proceeding at a slow pace for caution’s sake, lest the tread of their animals should betray them.
But if their own be not heard afar, there are other hoofs making a noise to disturb the stillness of the night. Just as the Indian girl has whispered to her paleface protégée some words of cheer, saying that her friends are now no great way off, she is startled by the hoof-stroke of a horse, which her practised ear tells her to be ridden; while the rapid repetition of the sound denotes the animal going in a gallop.
Suddenly she stops, and listens. Clearer rings the “tramp – tramp,” as nearer the horseman approaches. Coming up behind, from the direction of the town, who can it be but one in pursuit of them? And if a pursuer, what other than Aguara?
Still Nacena is in doubt, and deems it strange. As they stole away from Shebotha’s hut, and through the straggling suburb of the tolderia, all was darkness and silence, everybody seeming asleep. Who or what could have awakened the cacique, and apprised him of the flight of his captive?
In asking herself these questions, Kaolin’s sister is under the belief, that the sorceress is herself still a prisoner, in the keeping of that stalwart and redoubtable gaucho. Hence her surprise at their being pursued, with the uncertainty that they are so, and the further doubt of the pursuer being Aguara.
He it is, notwithstanding; and as yet pursuing alone. For although soon can be heard the hoof-strokes of other horses than his also following, these are faint and far-off. He himself hears them; knows it is a party of his young braves pressing on after, but will not wait for them to come up. For he hopes to overtake the fugitives, ere they can reach the place of rendezvous Shebotha has spoken of, and recover his captive before she can fling herself into the arms of protecting friends.
In this hope, alas! he is not disappointed. Dashing on through the darkness along a road with every foot of which both he and his horse are familiar, he first comes up with the half-witted creature lagging behind, soon as beside him putting the question —
“Where is the paleface, your prisoner?”
The man, frightened at seeing it is the cacique, in his confusion hesitates to make reply. But Aguara does not wait for it. He hears voices ahead – soft and sweet, though raised in tones of alarm – and knows she must be there. Giving his horse’s head a wrench, so as to shave close past the delinquent jailer, he raises his macana, and dealing a downward blow, strikes the latter to the earth: then hastens on after the others.
Nacena now knows for certain that they are pursued, as also who is the pursuer. She has heard the question asked by Aguara, recognising his voice; heard also the dull thud of his club as it descended on the skull of the unfortunate man; and now again hears the trampling of hoofs renewed and drawing nearer. She has still hold of Francesca’s hand, and for a moment debates within herself what is best to be done, and whether she should not release it, and turning show front to the pursuer.
Too late for that, or aught else likely to be of service either to herself or protégée. Before any resolve reaches her the cacique, is by their side; and flinging himself from his horse, grasps both by the wrists, wrenching asunder their joined hands. Then turning upon the Indian girl with a cry of rage – a curse in the Tovas tongue – he strikes her with his shut fist, inflicting a blow which sends her reeling to the earth. Before she can regain her feet he is once more upon his horse, and heading back for the tolderia– his recovered captive in his arms!
Chapter Fifty Eight.
Va Con Dios
In a rush Aguara goes, fast as his animal can be urged by heel and voice. For, while so roughly separating the two girls, these had shouted in alarm, and his ear had caught other cries raised at a distance, and as if responsive. Now he hears them again; men’s voices, and mingling with them the trampling of hoofs – clearly several horses coming on in a gallop. She, he has in his arms, hears them too, but listens not in silence or unresisting. Instead, she struggles and shrieks, calling “Help, help!” with the names “Ludwig, Cypriano, Gaspar!”
She is heard by all three; for it is they who responded to the cries of herself and Nacena, knowing who gave utterance to them. Near they are now, and riding as in a race; they, too, pressing their horses to utmost speed. But the darkness is against them, as their ignorance of the ground, with which the man pursued is familiar. By this, at every step, they are obstructed; and but for the screams of Francesca, still continued, might as well abandon the chase for any chance they have of overtaking him.
And overtake him they never would, nor could, were fortune not in their favour. An accident it may appear; at the same time seeming a divine retribution for wrong – a very Nemesis in the path of the wicked Aguara. On returning past the spot where he had struck down Shebotha’s slave, he sees the unfortunate man stretched along the ground, and, to all appearance, still insensible. Nought cares he for that, but his horse does; and, at sight of the prostrate form, the animal, with a snort of affright, shies to one side, and strikes off in a new direction. Going at so swift a pace, and in such a dim light, in a few bounds it enters among some bushes, where it is brought up standing. Before its rider can extricate it, a strong hand has hold of it by the head, with a thumb inserted into its nostrils, while the fingers of another are clutching at his own throat. The hand on the horse’s muzzle is that of Caspar the gaucho, the fingers that grope to get a gripe on the rider’s neck being those of Cypriano.
It is a crisis in the life of the young Tovas cacique, threatening either death or captivity. But subtle as all Indians are, and base as any common fellow of his tribe, instead of showing a bold front, he eludes both, by letting go the captive girl, himself slipping to the ground, and, snake like, gliding off among the bushes.
On the other side of his horse, which he has also abandoned, Francesca falls into the arms of her brother, who embraces her with wild delight. Though not wilder, nor half so thrilling, as that which enraptures the ear of Cypriano – to whose arms she is on the instant after transferred.
But it is not a time for embraces, however affectionate, nor words to be wasted in congratulation. So Gaspar tells them, while urging instant departure from that perilous spot.
“Our lucky star’s gone up again,” he says, with a significant nod to Aguara’s horse, which he has still hold of. “There is now four of us; and as I take it this brisk little musteño is fairly our property, there’ll be no need for any of us riding double – to say nothing of one having a witch behind his back. Without such incumbrance, it’ll be so much the better for the saving of time; which at this present moment presses, with not the hundredth part of a second to spare. So hijos mios, and you, hija mia querida, let us mount and be off!”
While the gaucho is yet thus jocularly delivering himself, Cypriano has lifted his cousin, Francesca, to the back of the cacique’s abandoned steed; on which he well knows she can keep her seat, were it the wildest that ever careered across campo. Then he remounts his own, the other two taking to their saddles at the same time.
A word about the route, and all four start together; not to go back along the trail towards the ceiba tree, but striking straight out for the open plain, in a direction which Gaspar conjectures to be the right one.
They would willingly diverge from it to ascertain whether the poor creature clubbed by Aguara be dead or still living; and, if the latter, take him along. But Gaspar urges the danger of delay; above all, being burdened with a man not only witless, but now in all likelihood disabled by a wound which would make the transporting him an absolute impossibility.
Ludwig and his sister are more desirous to turn aside, and learn how it is with Nacena. But again the gaucho, no: greatly given to sentiment, objects. Luckily, as if to relieve them from all anxiety, just then they hear a voice, which all recognise as that of the Tovas belle, calling out in tolerably pure Castilian: —
“Va con Dios!”
Standing up in his stirrups, with a shout and counter salute, the gaucho returns the valediction; then, spurring forward and placing himself at the head of the retreating party, they ride on, with no thought of again halting so long as their horses can keep their feet.
Chapter Fifty Nine.
Friends or Foes?
The solitary estancia which for two years had been the happy home of Ludwig Halberger and his family, but late the abode of deepest sorrow, is once more revisited by a gleam of joy. For the rescuing party has returned to it, bringing Francesca back safe and still unharmed. In the tumult of gratified emotions at recovering her lost child, – or rather children, for she had begun to think them all for ever gone from her – the widow almost forgets that she is widowed.
Only for a brief moment, however. The other great bereavement has been too recent to remain long out of her thoughts, and soon returns to them in its full afflicting bitterness.
But she has no time to dwell upon it now. The tale of actual experience which the rescuers have brought back, with Caspar’s surmises added, has given her a full and clear comprehension of everything; not only explaining the tragic event already past, but foreshadowing other and further dangers yet to come, and which may, at any moment, descend upon herself and the dear ones still left to her.
She has no longer any doubts as to the hand that has dealt her such a terrible blow; neither of the man who actually committed the murder, nor of him who instigated it. For Francesca’s recognition of Valdez has confirmed all the gaucho’s conjectures.
And the Dictator of Paraguay is not the man to leave unfinished either his cruel deeds or designs. Surely will he further prosecute them, either by hastening himself to the estancia, or sending thither his myrmidons. Yes, at any hour, any minute, a party of these may appear approaching it from the east, while in like short time the pursuing Tovas, headed by their enraged cacique, may show themselves coming from the west.
No wonder that the moments of mutual congratulation between the Señora Halberger and those just returned to her are brief, and but little joyful. The fugitives have reached home, but not to find it a refuge. For them it is no more a place of safety; instead, the most perilous in which they could now or ever after sojourn. But where are they to go – whither further flee? In all the Chaco there is not a spot that can shelter them from such pursuers as they are expecting!
It is now near noon of the fourth day since they left the Sacred Town of the Tovas, and in the interval they had been riding hard and fast, day and night, scarce allowing themselves either sleep or rest. But, fast as they have travelled, they know that Aguara, with his braves, will not be far behind; and although less than an hour has elapsed since their arrival at the estancia, Gaspar has already made preparations for their departure from it. Assisted by the faithful Guano Indians, who of course are to accompany them in their flight, he has caught up and caparisoned fresh horses, with the mules belonging to the establishment. Still the question remains unanswered – Whither are they to go? Throughout all the vicissitudes of his eventful life, never had the gaucho one so perplexing him, or fraught with such fears.
In the hope of finding an answer, and the better to reflect upon it, he has drawn a little apart from the house, with the hurry and bustle going on around it. A slight eminence, not far off in front, gives a commanding view of the campo; and, taking stand upon its top, he first casts a sweeping glance around the horizon, then fixes it only in one direction – that southwards, towards the old tolderia. For, although expecting enemies both from east and west, he knows that, coming from either side, they will most likely approach by the Pilcomayo’s bank; the former by the trail leading up the river, the latter by the same going down. It is not the first time for him to be standing on that elevated spot. Every ten minutes since their return to the estancia, he has been upon it, gazing out in the same way, and for the self-same purpose. Still, as yet, he observes nothing to add to his apprehensions, already keen enough. No living thing – much less human being – stirs over the wide expanse of green grassy plain. For it is near the meridian hour, and the tropical sun, pouring its fervid rays vertically down, has forced both birds and quadrupeds inside the cooler shadow of their coverts. Only two of the former are seen – a brace of urubus, or “king vultures,” soaring in circles aloft – beautiful birds, but less emblematic of life than death. A bad omen he might deem their presence; and worse, if he but saw what they see. For, from their more elevated position, they command a view of the plain to a much greater distance, and see mounted men upon it; not a single party, but three distinct groups of them, leagues distant from each other, though all round for the estancia. They are approaching it by separate routes, and from different quarters of the compass; one party coming up the Pilcomayo’s bank, and making straight for the old tolderia, a second moving towards the same place on the down-river trail; while the third, away from the river, and out upon the open plain, is heading more direct for the estancia itself. The first cohort, which is the smallest, is composed of some forty or fifty horsemen, riding “by twos;” their regular formation on the march, but more the uniformity in their dress, arms, and accoutrements, telling them to be soldiers. For such they really are – the cuarteleros of Paraguay, with Rufino Valdez riding at their head; not as their commanding officer, but in the exercise of his more proper and special calling of vaqueano, or guide. Ghastly and pallid, with his arm supported in a sling, he is on the way back to Halberger’s estancia, to complete the ruffian’s task assigned to him by the Dictator of Paraguay, and make more desolate the home he had already enough ruined. But for his mischance in the biscachera, the rescuers would have found it empty on their return, and instead of a lost daughter, it would have been the mother missing.
The second band of horsemen, coming from the opposite quarter and down the river, is no other than the pursuing party of Tovas, with Aguara at their head. They are mostly young men, the cacique’s particular friends and partisans, nearly a hundred in number, all armed with bolas and long spears. Hastily summoned together, they had started in pursuit soon as they could catch up their horses; but with all their speed the rescuing party had so far kept ahead, as to have arrived at the estancia some time before them. But they are pressing on for it now, fast as their horses can carry them, urged forward by their leader, who, in his rage, is not only determined to retake the escaped captive, but kill cousin, brother, all who aided in her escape.
The third party, also approaching from the west, but by a route leading direct to the house, with the river far southward on their right, is, as the second, composed entirely of Tovas Indians. But, instead of them being the youths of the tribe, they are, for the most part, men of mature age, though a young man is at their head, and acting as their commander. There is a girl riding by his side, a beautiful girl, at a glance recognisable as Nacena – he himself being her brother, Kaolin.
They and their party are also pursuing. Though not to retake, the paleface captive; instead, to protect her – the object of their pursuit being Aguara himself. For soon as the latter had started off on his reckless chase – braving public opinion, and defying the opposition of the elders – a revolution had arisen in the tribe; while a council meeting, hastily called in the malocca, had, with almost unanimous vote, deposed him from the chieftainship, and chosen Kaolin cacique in his stead. Needless to say, that to all this Nacena was a consenting party. And something more – since she gave the cue to her brother, who was chief instigator in the revolt. That blow which laid her along the earth, with the cause for which it was given, had severed the last link of love that bound her to Aguara, and for him her heart is now full of hate and burning with vengeance. While pressing on in pursuit of his escaped captive, little dreams the deposed cacique of the Tovas, either that he has been deposed of his chieftainship or that others are pursuing him.
But his pursuers are not now behind him; instead, in front, or, at all events, nearer to the estancia than he. For Kaolin’s followers, availing themselves of a route known to one of their number – a shorter cut across the pampas– have passed the party led by Aguara, and will be the first to arrive at the objective point aimed at by both.
And they are first sighted by Gaspar, though the gaucho has not been looking in their direction, little expectant of pursuers to come from that quarter. The urubus have guided him, or rather their shadows gliding over the grassy sward; these, as the birds making them, having suddenly passed away towards the west. Following them with his eyes, he sees what causes him to exclaim —
“Santos Dios! we are lost. Too late – too late; ’tis all over with us now!”
His cry, sent up in accent of deepest despair, brings Ludwig and Cypriano to his side: and the three stand watching the dark cohort advancing towards them. None of them speaks or thinks of retreat. That would be idle, and any attempt at escape must surely result in failure; while to resist would but hasten the disaster impending over them. Convinced of this, they no longer contemplate either flight or resistance, but stand in sullen silence to await the approach of the pursuers, for such they suppose them to be. Deeming them avengers also, as well they may, recalling their last encounter with the young Tovas chief.
Never did mistaken men more rejoice at their mistake than do they, when, on the band of Indian braves galloping up to the ground, they behold at its head, and evidently in command of it, not the cacique Aguara, but the sub-chief, Kaolin, and beside him his sister Nacena! She who aided them in effecting the escape of the captive, and, as a last word, bade them “God speed,” would not be with pursuers who are hostile.
Nor is she, as they soon learn; instead, along with friends who come but to give comfort and protection!
