The Rifle Rangers Part 41

A bright sparkle now attracted my eye; and, on looking at the object attentively, I discovered, to my horror, that the spiral protuberance upon the vine was nothing else than the folds of a snake! Squeezing himself silently down the parasite--for he had come from above--the reptile slowly uncoiled two or three of the lowermost rings, and stretched his glistening neck horizontally over the hammock. Now, for the first time, I perceived the horned protuberance on his head, and recognised the dreaded reptile--the _macaurel_ (the _cobra_ of America).

In this position he remained for some moments, perfectly motionless, his neck proudly curved like that of a swan, while his head was not twelve inches from the face of the sleeper. I fancied that I could see the soft down upon her lip playing under his breath!

He now commenced slowly vibrating from side to side, while a low, hissing sound proceeded from his open jaws. His horns projected out, adding to the hideousness of his appearance; and at intervals his forked tongue shot forth, glancing in the sun like a purple diamond.

He appeared to be gloating over his victim, in the act of charming her to death. I even fancied that her lips moved, and her head began to stir backward and forward, following the oscillations of the reptile.

All this I witnessed without the power to move. My soul as well as my body was chained; but, even had I been free, I could have offered no help. I knew that the only hope of her safety lay in silence. Unless disturbed and angered, the snake might not bite; but was he not at that moment distilling some secret venom upon her lips?

"Oh, Heaven!" I gasped out, in the intensity of my fears, "is this the fiend himself? She moves!--now he will strike! Not yet--she is still again. Now--now!--mercy! she trembles!--the hammock shakes--she is quivering under the fascin-- Ha!"

A shot rang from the walls--the snake suddenly jerked back his head--his rings flew out, and he fell to the earth, writhing as if in pain!

The girls started with a scream, and sprang simultaneously from their hammocks.

Grasping each other by the hand, with terrified looks they rushed from the spot and disappeared.

Several men ran up, ending the snake with their sabres. One of them stooped, and examining the carcase of the dead reptile, exclaimed:

"_Carai_! there is a hole in his head--he has been shot!"

A moment after, half a dozen of the guerilleros burst open the door and rushed in, crying out as they entered:

"_Quien tira_?" (Who fired?)

"What do you mean?" angrily asked Raoul, who had been in ill-humour ever since the guerillero had refused him a draught of water.

"I ask you who fired the shot?" repeated the man.

"Fired the shot!" echoed Raoul, knowing nothing of what had occurred outside. "We look like firing a shot, don't we? If I possessed that power, my gay friend, the first use I should make of it would be to send a bullet through that clumsy skull of yours."

"_Santissima_!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Mexican, with a look of astonishment.

"It could not be these--they are all tied!"

And the Mexicans pa.s.sed out again, leaving us to our reflections.

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

THE HEAD-QUARTERS OF THE GUERILLA.

Mine were anything but agreeable. I was pained and puzzled. I was pained to think that _she_--dearer to me than life--was thus exposed to the dangers that surrounded us. It was her sister that had occupied the other hammock.

"Are they alone? Are they prisoners in the hands of these half-robbers?

May not their hospitality to us have brought them under proscription?

And are they not being carried--father, mother, and all--before some tribunal? Or are they travelling for protection with this band-- protection against the less scrupulous robbers that infest the country?"

It was not uncommon upon the Rio Grande, when rich families journeyed from point to point, to pay for an escort of this sort. This may elucidate--.

"But I tell yez I did hear a crack; and, be my sowl! it was the sargint's rifle, or I've lost me sinses intirely."

"What is it?" I asked, attracted to the conversation of my comrades.

"Chane says he heard a shot, and thinks it was Lincoln's," answered Clayley.

"His gun has a quare sound, Captain," said the Irishman, appealing to me. "It's diffirint intirely from a Mexican piece, and not like our own nayther. It's a way he has in loadin' it."

"Well--what of that?"

"Why, Raowl says one of them axed him who fired. Now, I heerd a shot, for my ear was close till the door here. It was beyant like; but I cud swear upon the blissed cra.s.s it was ayther the sargint's rifle or another as like it as two pays."

"It is very strange!" I muttered, half in soliloquy, for the same thought had occurred to myself.

"I saw the boy, Captain," said Raoul; "I saw him crossing when they opened the door."

"The boy!--what boy?" I asked.

"The same we brought out of the town."

"Ha! Narcisso!--you saw him?"

"Yes; and, if I'm not mistaken, the white mule that the old gentleman rode to camp. I think that the family is with the guerilla, and that accounts for our being still alive."

A new light flashed upon me. In the incidents of the last twenty hours I had never once thought of Narcisso. Now all was clear--clear as daylight. The zambo whom Lincoln had killed--poor victim!--was our friend, sent to warn us of danger; the dagger, Narcisso's--a token for us to trust him. The soft voice--the small hand thrust under the tapojo--yes, all were Narcisso's!

A web of mystery was torn to shreds in a single moment. The truth did not yield gratification. No--but the contrary. I was chagrined at the indifference exhibited in another quarter.

"She must know that I am here, since her brother is master of the fact-- here, bleeding and bound. Yet where is her sympathy? She sleeps! She journeys within a few paces of me, where I am tied painfully; yet not a word of consolation. No! She is riding upon her soft cus.h.i.+on, or carried upon a _litera_, escorted, perhaps, by this accomplished villain, who plays the gallant cavalier upon my own barb! They converse together, perhaps of the poor captives in their train, and with jest and ridicule--he at least; and _she_ can hear it, and then fling herself into her soft hammock and sleep--sleep sweetly--calmly?"

These bitter reflections were interrupted. The door creaked once more upon its hinges. Half a dozen of our captors entered. Our blinds were put on, and we were carried out and mounted as before.

In a few minutes a bugle rang out, and the route was resumed.

We were carried up the stream bottom--a kind of glen, or _Canada_. We could feel by the cool shade and the echoes that we were travelling under heavy timber. The torrent roared in our ears, and the sound was not unpleasant. Twice or thrice we forded the stream, and sometimes left it, returning after having travelled a mile or so. This was to avoid the _canons_, where there is no path by the water. We then ascended a long hill, and after reaching its summit commenced going downwards.

"I know this road well," said Raoul. "We are going down to the hacienda of Cen.o.bio."

"_Pardieu_!" he continued. "I ought to know this hill!"

"For what reason?"

"First, Captain, because I have carried many a _bulto_ of cochineal and many a bale of smuggled tobacco over it; ay, and upon nights when my eyes were of as little service to me as they are at present."

"I thought that you _contrabandistas_ hardly needed the precaution of dark nights?"

"True, at times; but there were other times when the Government became lynx-eyed, and then smuggling was no joke. We had some sharp skirmis.h.i.+ng. _Sacre_! I have good cause to remember this very hill. I came near making a jump into purgatory from the other side of it."

"Ha! how was that?"