Gaspar the Gaucho Part 4

After dismounting, and for a few seconds examining it, Valdez leaps back into his saddle with a show of haste, as if he would at once start off upon the trail of horse and pony.

"There have been only the two here--that's plain," he says. "Father and daughter, you think? What a pity we didn't get up in time to bid 'good-day' to them! 'Twould have simplified matters much. You'd then have had your young chick to carry to the cage you intend for it, without the mother bird to make any bother or fluttering in your face; while I might have executed my commission sooner than expected."

"_Carramba_!" he continues after a short while spent in considering.

"They can't have gone very far as yet. You say it's quite twenty miles to the place where the _gringo_ has his headquarters. If so, and they've not been in a great hurry to get home--which like enough the girl would, since her dear Cypriano don't appear to be along--we may come up with them by putting on speed. Let us after them at once! What say you?"

The young Indian, pa.s.sive in the hands of the older and more hardened sinner, makes neither objection nor protest. Instead, stung by the allusion to "dear Cypriano," he is anxious as the other to come up with the pony and its rider. So, without another word, he springs back upon his horse, declaring his readiness to ride on.

With eyes directed downward, they keep along the return tracks; having already observed that these come no farther than the ford, and turn back by the water's edge--

"Aha!" exclaims the _vaqueano_, pulling up again ere he has proceeded three lengths of his horse; "they've left the trail here, and turned off up stream! That wouldn't be their route home, would it?"

"No," answers Aguara. "Their nearest way's along the river, down as far as our old _tolderia_. After that--"

"s.h.!.+" interrupts the Paraguayan, leaning over, and speaking in a cautious whisper, "Did you not hear something? Like the c.h.i.n.king of a bitt curb? I shouldn't wonder if they're in among those bushes.

Suppose you stay here and keep watch along the bank, while I go and beat up that bit of cover?"

"Just as it please you," a.s.sents the young cacique, unresistingly.

"Give me two or three of your fellows along. Not that I have any fear to encounter the _gringo_ alone--poor weak creature, still wearing his green spectacles, I suppose. Far from it. But still there's no harm in having help, should he attempt to give trouble. Besides, I'll want some one to look after the _muchachita_!"

"Take as many as you wish."

"Oh! two will be sufficient; that pair nearest us."

He points to the foremost file of the troop, two who are a little older than their friends, as also of more hardened and sinister aspect. For, short as has been his stay among them, the subtle emissary has taken the measure of many members of the tribe; and knows something of the two he thus designates. His gold has made them his friends and allies; in short, gained them over to him as good for anything he may call upon them to do.

Aguara having signified a.s.sent, a gesture brings them up; and, at a whispered word from the _vaqueano_ himself, they fall in behind him.

Heading his horse for the _sumac_ thicket he is soon at its edge, there seeing what rejoices him--the tracks of both horse and pony pa.s.sing into it. He has reached the spot where Halberger turned in along the _tapir_ path. Parting the leaves with a long spear--for he is so armed--he rides in also, the two Indians after. And just as the tails of their horses disappear among the leaves, Aguara, who has kept his place, hears another horse neighing within the thicket at a point farther off. Then there is a quick trampling of hooves, followed by a hurried rush, and the swis.h.i.+ng of bent branches, as the _vaqueano_ and his two aides dash on through the _sumacs_.

The young cacique and his followers continuing to listen, soon after hear shouts--the voices of men in angry exclamation--mingling with them the shriller treble of a girl's. Then a shot, quick followed by a second, and a third; after which only the girl's voice is heard, but now in lamentation. Soon, however, it is hushed, and all over--everything silent as before.

The young Tovas chief sits upon his horse with heart audibly beating.

He has no doubt--cannot have--as to who were the pursued ones; no more, that they have been overtaken. But with what result? Has the _vaqueano_ killed both father and daughter? Or were the shots fired by Halberger, killing Valdez himself and the two who went with him? No; that cannot be; else why should the girl's lamenting cries be heard afterwards? But then again, why have they ceased so suddenly?

While thus anxiously conjecturing, he again hears the trampling of horses among the trees; this time evidently in return towards him. And soon after sees the horses themselves, with their riders--four of them.

Three are the same as late left him, but looking differently. The Paraguayan has one arm hanging down by his side, to all appearance broken, with blood dripping from the tips of his fingers; while the steel blade of his spear, borne in the other, is alike reddened. And there is blood elsewhere--streaming down the breast of one of the young Indians who seems to have difficulty in keeping upon his horse's back.

The fourth individual in the returning cavalcade is a young girl, with a cloth tied over her head, as if to hinder her from crying out; seated upon the back of a pony, this led by the Indian who is still unhurt.

At a glance, Aguara sees it is Francesca Halberger, though he needs not seeing her to know that. For he had already recognised her voice--well knew it, even in its wailing.

"Her father--what of him?" he asks, addressing Valdez, soon as the latter is up to him, and speaking in undertone.

"No matter what," rejoins the ruffian, with a demoniac leer. "The father is my affair, and he has come very near making it an ugly one for me. Look at this!" he continues, indicating the left arm which hangs loose by his side. "And at that!" he adds, glancing up to the point of his spear.

"Blood on both, as you see. So, Senor Aguara, you may draw your deductions. Your affair is yonder," he nods towards the m.u.f.fled figure on the pony's back; "and you can now choose between taking her home to her mother--her handsome cousin as well--or carrying her to _your_ home, as the queen that is to be of the Tovas."

The young cacique is not slow in deciding which course to pursue. The allusion to the "handsome cousin" again excites his jealousy and his ire. Its influence is irresistible, as sinister; and when he and his followers take departure from that spot--which they do almost on the instant--it is to recross the stream, and head their horses homeward-- Francesca Halberger carried captive along with them.

CHAPTER TEN.

GASPAR, THE GAUCHO.

Over the broad undulating plain which extends between Halberger's house and the deserted _tolderia_ of the Tovas, a horseman is seen proceeding in the direction of the latter. He is a man about middle age, of hale, active appearance, in no way past his prime. Of medium size, or rather above it, his figure though robust is well proportioned, with strong sinewy arms and limbs lithe as a panther's, while his countenance, notwithstanding the somewhat embrowned skin, has a pleasant, honest expression, evincing good nature as a habitually amiable temper, at the same time that his features show firmness and decision. A keenly glancing eye, coal-black, bespeaks for him both courage and intelligence; while the way in which he sits his horse, tells that he is not new to the saddle; instead, seeming part of it. His garb is peculiar, though not to the country which claims him as a native.

Draping down from his shoulders and spreading over the hips of his horse is a garment of woollen fabric, woven in stripes of gaudy colours, alternating white, yellow, and red, of no fit or fas.h.i.+on, but simply kept on by having his head thrust through a slit in its centre. It is a _poncho_--the universal wrap or cloak of every one who dwells upon the banks of the La Plata or Parana. Under is another garment, of white cotton stuff, somewhat resembling Zouave breeches, and called _calzoneras_, these reaching a little below his knees; while his feet and ankles are encased in boots of his own manufacture, seamless, since each was originally the skin of a horse's leg, the hoof serving as heel, with the shank shortened and gathered into a pucker for the toe. Tanned and bleached to the whiteness of a wedding glove, with some ornamental st.i.tching and broidery, it furnishes a foot gear, alike comfortable and becoming. Spurs, with grand rowels, several inches in diameter, attached to the heels of these horse-hide boots, give them some resemblance to the greaves and ankle armour of mediaeval times.

All this has he whose dress we are describing; while surmounting his head is a broad-brimmed hat with high-peaked crown and plume of _rheas_ feathers--underneath all a kerchief of gaudy colour, which draping down over the nape of his neck protects it from the fervid rays of the Chaco sun. It is a costume imposing and picturesque; while the caparison of his horse is in keeping with it. The saddle, called _recado_, is furnished with several coverings, one upon another, the topmost, _coronilla_, being of bright-coloured cloth elaborately quilted; while the bridle of plaited horse-hair is studded with silver joints, from which depend rings and ta.s.sels, the same ornamenting the breast-piece and neck straps attaching the martingale, in short, the complete equipment of a _gaucho_. And a gaucho he is--Gaspar, the hero of our tale.

It has been already said, that he is in the service of Ludwig Halberger.

So is he, and has been ever since the hunter-naturalist settled in Paraguay; in the capacity of steward, or as there called _mayor-domo_; a term of very different signification from the _major-domo_ or house-steward of European countries, with dress and duties differing as well. No black coat, or white cravat, wears he of Spanish America, no spotless stockings, or soft slipper shoes. Instead, a costume more resembling that of a Cavalier, or Freebooter; while the services he is called upon to perform require him to be not only a first-cla.s.s horseman, but able to throw the lazo, catch a wild cow or colt, and tame the latter--in short, take a hand at anything. And at almost anything Gaspar can; for he is man-of-all-work to the hunter-naturalist, as well as his man of confidence.

Why he is riding away from the estancia at such an hour--for it is afternoon--may be guessed from what has gone before. For it is on that same day, when Halberger and his daughter started off to visit the Indian village; and as these had not returned soon as promised, the anxiety of the wife, rendered keen by the presentiment which had oppressed her at their parting, became at length unbearable; and to relieve it Gaspar has been despatched in quest of them.

No better man in all the pampas region, or South America itself, could have been sent on such an errand. His skill as a tracker is not excelled by any other gaucho in the Argentine States, from which he originally came; while in general intelligence, combined with courage, no one there, or elsewhere, could well be his superior. As the Senora said her last words to him at parting, and listened to his in return, she felt rea.s.sured. Gaspar was not the man to make delay, or come back without the missing one. On this day, however, he deviates from his usual habit, at the same time from the route he ought to take--that leading direct to the Indian village, whither he knows his master and young mistress to have gone. For while riding along going at a gentle canter, a c.o.c.k "ostrich" starts up before his horse, and soon after the hen, the two trotting away over the plain to one side. It so chances that but the day before his master had given him instructions to catch a male ostrich for some purpose of natural history--the first he should come across. And here was one, a splendid bird, in full flowing plumage. This, with an observation made, that the ostriches seem less shy than is usual with these wary creatures, and are moving away but slowly, decides him to take after and have a try at capturing the c.o.c.k.

Unloosing his _bolas_ from the saddle-bow, where he habitually carries this weapon, and spurring his horse to a gallop, off after them he goes.

Magnificently mounted, for a gaucho would not be otherwise, he succeeds in his intent, after a run of a mile or so, getting close enough to the birds to operate upon them with his _bolas_. Winding these around his head and launching them, he has the satisfaction of seeing the c.o.c.k ostrich go down upon the gra.s.s, its legs lapped together tight as if he had hard spliced them.

Riding on up to the great bird, now hoppled and without any chance to get away from him, he makes things more sure by drawing out his knife and cutting the creature's throat. Then releasing the _bolas_, he returns them to the place from which he had taken them--on the horn of his _recado_. This done, he stands over the dead _rhea_, thus reflecting:--

"I wonder what particular part of this beauty--it is a beauty, by the way, and I don't remember ever having met with a finer bird of the breed--but if I only knew which one with identical parts the master wants, it would save me some trouble in the way of packing, and my horse no little of a load. Just possible the _dueno_ only cares for the tail-feathers, or the head and beak, or it may be but the legs. Well, as I can't tell which, there's but one way to make sure about it--that is, to take the entire carcase along with me. So, go it must."

Saying this, he lays hold of a leg, and drags the ostrich nearer to his horse, which all the time stands tranquilly by: for a gaucho's steed is trained to keep its place, without need of any one having care of it.

"_Carramba_!" he exclaims, raising the bird from the ground, "what a weight the thing is! Heavy as a quarter of beef! Now I think on't, it might have been better if I'd let the beast alone, and kept on without getting myself into all this bother. Nay, I'm sure it would have been wiser. What will the Senora say, when she knows of my thus dallying-- trifling with the commands she gave me? Bah! she won't know anything about it--and needn't. She will, though, if I stand dallying here. I mustn't a minute longer. So up, Senor Avertruz, and lie there."

At which, he hoists the ostrich--by the gauchos called "_avertruz_"--to the croup of his _recado_; where, after a rapid manipulation of cords, the bird is made fast, beyond all danger of dropping off.

This done, he springs upon his horse's back, and then looks out to see which direction he should now take. A thing not so easily determined; for in the chase after it, the ostrich had made more than one double; and, although tolerably familiar with the topography of that plain, the gaucho is for the time no little confused as to his whereabouts. Nor strange he should be; since the palm-groves scattered over it are all so much alike, and there is no high hill, nor any great eminence, to guide him. Ridges there are, running this way and that; but all only gentle undulations, with no bold projection, or other land-mark that he can remember.

He begins to think he is really strayed, lost; and, believing so, is angry with himself for having turned out of his path--as the path of his duty. Angry at the ostrich, too, that tempted him.

"_Avertruz, maldito_!" he exclaims, terms in the gaucho vernacular synonymous with "ostrich, be hanged!" adding, as he continues to gaze hopelessly around, "I wish I'd let the long-legged brute go its way.

Like as not, it'll hinder me going mine, till too late. And if so, there'll be a pretty tale to tell! _Santissima_! whatever am I to do?

I don't even know the way back to the house; though that wouldn't be any good if I did. I daren't go there without taking some news with me.

Well; there's only one thing I can do; ride about, and quarter the pampa, till I see something that'll set me back upon my road."

In conformity with this intention, he once more puts his horse in motion, and strikes off over the plain; but he does not go altogether without a guide, the sun somewhat helping him. He knows that his way to the Indian village is westward, and as the bright luminary is now beginning to descend, it points out that direction, so taking his bearings by it, he rides on. Not far, however, before catching sight of another object, which enables him to steer his course with greater precision. This a tree, a grand vegetable giant of the species called _ombu_, known to every gaucho--beloved, almost held sacred by him, as affording shade to his sun-exposed and solitary dwelling. The one Gaspar now sees has no house under its wide-spreading branches; but he has himself been under them more than once while out on a hunt, and smoked his _cigarrito_ in their shade. As his eye lights upon it, a satisfied expression comes over his features, for he knows that the tree is on the top of a little _loma_, or hill, about half-way between the estancia and the Indian town, and nearly in the direct route.

He needs nothing more to guide him now; but instead of riding towards the tree, he rather turns his back upon it, and starts off in a different direction. This because he had already pa.s.sed the _ombu_ before coming across the ostrich.

Soon again he is back upon the path from which he had strayed, and proceeds along it without further interruption, riding at a rapid pace to make up for the lost time.

Still, he is far from being satisfied with himself. Although he may have done that which will be gratifying to his master, there is a possibility of its displeasing his mistress. Most certainly will it do this, should he not find the missing ones, and have to go home without them. But he has no great fear of that; indeed, is not even uneasy.

Why should he be? He knows his master's proclivities, and believes that he has come across some curious and rare specimens, which take time to collect or examine, and this it is which has been r.e.t.a.r.ding his return.

Thus reflecting, he continues on, every moment expecting to meet them.