The Rifle Rangers Part 37

This appeared to please the guerilleros; and one of them, bending over the Irishman, slackened his fastenings a little--still, however, leaving him bound.

"Thank yer honner," said Chane; "that's dacent of ye. That's what Misther O'Connell wud call _amaylioration_. I'm a hape aysier now."

"_Mucho bueno_," said the man, nodding and laughing.

"Och, be my sowl, yes!--_mucho bueno_. But I'd have no objecshun if yer honner wud make it _mucho bettero_. Couldn't ye just take a little turn aff me wrist here?--it cuts like a rayzyer."

I could not restrain myself from laughing, in which Clayley and Raoul joined me; and we formed a chorus that seemed to astonish our captors.

Lincoln alone preserved his sullenness. He had not spoken a word.

Little Jack had been placed upon the ground near the hunter. He was but loosely tied, our captors not thinking it worth while to trouble themselves about so diminutive a subject. I had noticed him wriggling about, and using all his Indian craft to undo his fastenings; but he appeared not to have succeeded, as he now lay perfectly still again.

While the guerilleros were occupied with Chane and his saints, I observed the boy roll himself over and over, until he lay close up against the hunter. One of the guerilleros, noticing this, picked Jack up by the waistbelt, and, holding him at arm's length, shouted out:

"_Mira, camarados! qui briboncito_!" (Look, comrades! what a little rascal!)

Amidst the laughing of the guerilleros, Jack was swung out, and fell in a bed of shrubs and flowers, where we saw no more of him. As he was bound, we concluded that he could not help himself, and was lying where he had been thrown.

My attention was called away from this incident by an exclamation of Chane.

"Och! blood, turf, and murther! If there isn't that Frinch scoundhrel Dubrosc!"

I looked up. The man was standing over us.

"Ah, Monsieur le Capitaine!" cried he, in a sneering voice, "_comment vous portez-vous_? You came up dove-hunting--_eh_? The birds, you see, are not in the cot."

Had there been only a thread around my body, I could not have moved at that moment. I felt cold and rigid as marble. A thousand agonising thoughts crowded upon me at once--my doubts, my fears on _her_ account, drowning all ideas of personal danger. I could have died at that moment, and without a groan, to have ensured her safety.

There was something so fiendish in the character of this man--a polished brutality, too--that caused me to fear the worst.

"Oh, heaven!" I muttered, "in the power of such a man!"

"Ho!" cried Dubrosc, advancing a pace or two, and seizing my horse by the bridle, "a splendid mount! An Arab, as I live! Look here, Yanez!"

he continued, addressing a guerillero who accompanied him, "I claim this, if you have no objection."

"Take him," said the other, who was evidently the leader of the party.

"Thank you. And you, Monsieur le Capitaine," he added ironically, turning to me, "thank you for this handsome present. He will just replace my brave mustang, for whose loss I expect I am indebted to you, you great brute!--_sacre_!"

The last words were addressed to Lincoln; and, as though maddened by the memory of La Virgen, he approached the latter, and kicked him fiercely in the side.

The wanton foot had scarcely touched his ribs, when the hunter sprang up, as if by galvanic action, _the thongs flying from his body_ in fifty spiral fragments. With a bound he leaped to his rifle; and, clutching it--he knew it was empty--struck the astonished Frenchman a blow upon the head. The latter fell heavily to the earth. In an instant a dozen knives and swords were aimed at the hunter's throat. Sweeping his rifle around him, he cleared an opening, and, das.h.i.+ng past his foes with a wild yell, bounded off through the shrubbery. The guerilleros followed, screaming with rage; and we could hear an occasional shot, as they continued the pursuit into the distant woods. Dubrosc was carried back into the rancho, apparently lifeless.

We were still wondering how our comrade had untied himself, when one of the guerilleros, lifting a piece of the thong, exclaimed:

"_Carajo! ha cortado el briboncito_!" (The little rascal has cut it!) and the man darted into the shrubbery in search of little Jack. It was with us a moment of fearful suspense. We expected to see poor Jack sacrificed instantly. We watched the man with intense emotion, as he ran to and fro.

At length he threw up his arms with a gesture of surprise, calling out at the same time:

"_Por todos santos! se fue_!" (By all the saints! he's gone!)

"Hurrah!" cried Chane; "holies!--such a gossoon as that boy!"

Several of the guerilleros dived into the thicket; but their search was in vain.

We were now separated, so that we could no longer converse, and were more strictly watched, two sentries standing over each of us. We spent about an hour in this way. Straggling parties at intervals came back from the pursuit, and we could gather, from what we overheard, that neither Lincoln nor Jack had yet been retaken.

We could hear talking in the rear of the rancho, and we felt that our fate was being determined upon. It was plain Dubrosc was not in command of the party. Had he been so, we should never have been carried beyond the olive-grove. It appeared we were to be hung elsewhere.

At length a movement was visible that betokened departure. Our horses were taken away, and saddled mules were led out in front of the rancho.

Upon these we were set, and strapped tightly to the saddles. A serape was pa.s.sed over each of us, and we were blinded by tapojos. A bugle then sounded the "forward". We could hear a confusion of noises, the prancing of many hoofs, and the next moment we felt ourselves moving along at a hurried pace through the woods.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

A BLIND RIDE.

We rode all night. The mule-blinds, although preventing us from seeing a single object, proved to be an advantage. They saved our eyes and faces from the th.o.r.n.y claws of the acacia and mezquite. Without hands to fend them off, these would have torn us badly, as we could feel them, from time to time, penetrating even the hard leather of the tapojos.

Our thongs chafed us, and we suffered great pain from the monotonous motion. Our road lay through thick woods. This we could perceive from the constant rustle of the leaves and the crackling of branches, as the cavalcade pa.s.sed on.

Towards morning our route led over hills, steep and difficult, we could tell from the att.i.tudes of our animals. We had pa.s.sed the level plains, and were entering among the "foothills" of the Mexican mountains. There was no pa.s.sing or repa.s.sing of one another. From this I concluded that we were journeying along a narrow road, and in single file.

Raoul was directly in front of me, and we could converse at times.

"Where do you think they are taking us, Raoul?" I inquired, speaking in French.

"To Cen.o.bio's hacienda. I hope so, at least!"

"Why do you hope so?"

"Because we shall stand some chance for our lives. Cen.o.bio is a n.o.ble fellow."

"You know him, then?"

"Yes, Captain; I have helped him a little in the contraband trade."

"A smuggler, is he?"

"Why, in this country it is hardly fair to call it by so harsh a name, as the Government itself dips out of the same dish. Smuggling here, as in most other countries, should be looked upon rather as the offspring of necessity and maladministration than as a vice in itself. Cen.o.bio is a _contrabandisto_, and upon a large scale."

"And you are a political philosopher, Raoul!"

"Bah! Captain; it would be bad if I could not defend my own calling,"

replied my comrade, with a laugh.

"You think, then, that we are in the hands of Cen.o.bio's men."

"I am sure of it, Captain. _Sacre_! had it been Jarauta's band, we would have been in heaven--that is, our souls--and our bodies would now be embellis.h.i.+ng some of the trees upon Don Cosme's plantation. Heaven protect us from Jarauta! The robber-priest gives but short shrift to any of his enemies; but if he could lay his hands on your humble servant, you would see hanging done in double-quick time."