Gaspar the Gaucho Part 22

Nor do they proceed in silence. Instead, the hindmost is heard to utter loud shouts which the one midway repeats, as if in echo; while he ahead alone says nothing. Even this would strengthen the supposition of its being a chase; the pursued party speechless from the intensity of his fears, and the effort he is making to escape his pursuers.

One near enough, however, to note the expression upon the faces of all three, and hear the words spoken, would know that the three galloping hors.e.m.e.n, though oddly apart, are in friendly communication with one another. Since in their shouts, though loud, is nothing to tell of hostility or anger. Nor yet any great variety of speech--only the two words, "right" and "left;" these uttered at short but irregular intervals, first by the hindmost, then taken up by the one riding midway, and pa.s.sed on to him who leads; the last, as he hears them, shaping his course in accordance.

In this quaint fashion they have proceeded several leagues, when the leader, Ludwig, is seen to swerve suddenly to the left, without any direction having reached him from behind; this, too, at an angle of full fifty degrees.

"Right!" calls Cypriano from the rear, the tone of his voice telling of surprise, while the same is visible on his face.

Gaspar repeats the word in like accent of astonishment. Cypriano once more vociferating, "Right! to the right!"

But, although Ludwig must have heard them both, to neither gives he ear, nor pays the slightest attention to the directions called out to him.

Instead, he still holds on in the new course, which he seems to have chosen for himself.

Has his horse shied, and escaped from his control? That is the first thought of the other two, who by this time have both reined up, and sit looking after him. Then a more painful apprehension forces itself upon them; he may have gone astray in another sense, than from the track he should have taken. Is he still under the influence of the animal electricity, which might account for his seemingly eccentric behaviour?

For eccentric it certainly appears, if not something worse--as indeed they half-suspect it to be.

While they continue watching him, they see, as well as hear, what goes far towards confirming their suspicions. For after galloping some two or three hundred yards, and without once looking back, he suddenly pulls up, raises the hat from his head, and holding it aloft, waves it round and round, all the while uttering cries as of one in a frenzy!

"_Pobrecito_!" mutters Gaspar to himself, "the excitement has been too much for him. So long on the strain--no wonder. _Ay de mi_? Another of that poor family doomed--and to worse than death!"

At the same time Cypriano is reflecting in a somewhat similar fashion, though he makes no remark. The strange exhibition saddens him beyond the power of speech. His cousin has gone crazed!

They had headed their horses, and were about to ride rapidly after, when they saw him stop; and now moving gently forward with their eyes on him, they see him replace the cap upon his head, and bend downward, with gaze given to the ground. Some new fancy dictated by a disordered brain, think they. What will he do next? What will they see?

And what _do_ they see on drawing nearer to him? That which makes both of them feel foolish enough; at the same time that it rejoices them to think they have been the victims of a self-deception. For before they are quite up to the spot where he has halted, they perceive a large s.p.a.ce of whitish colour, where the surface mud has been tossed and mixed up with the substratum of saltpetre--all done by the hoofs of horses, as even at a distance they can tell.

"Come along here, you laggards!" cries Ludwig in a tone of triumph; "I've something to show you. Feast your eyes upon this!"

While speaking he nods to the ground by his horse's head, indicating the disturbed tract; then, adding as he raises his hand, and points outward--

"And on that!"

The "that" he refers to is a white list leading away westward as far as they can see--evidently the trail taken by those they are in pursuit of.

Long ere this, both Gaspar and Cypriano have full comprehension of what perplexed while alarming them. But neither says a word of the suspicions they had entertained concerning him. Each in his own mind has resolved never to speak of them, the gaucho, as he comes up again, crying out--

"Bravo!" then adding with an air of gracious humility, "So, Senor Ludwig, you, too, have beaten me! Beaten us all! You've set us on the right trail now; one which, if I mistake not, will conduct us to the end of our journey, without need of sunshine, or any other contrivance."

"And that end," interposes Cypriano, "will be in a town or camp of Tovas Indians, at the tent of the scoundrel Aguara;" then, adding excitedly, "Oh! that I were there now!"

"Have patience, _hijo mio_," counsels Gaspar; "you'll be there in good time, and that very soon. For, from something I remember, I don't think we've much more journey to make. But before proceeding further, let us take a look at this curious thing here, and see what we can make of it.

Besides, our animals need breathing a bit."

So saying, he dismounts, as do the others; and leaving their horses to stand at rest, all three commence examination of the tract which shows stirred and trampled.

They see hoof-marks of horses--scores of them--all over the ground for the s.p.a.ce of several perches, and pointed in every direction; among them also the foot-prints of men, with here and there smooth spots as if where human bodies had reclined. That both men and horses had been there is evident, and that they had gone off by the trace running westward, equally so. But how they came thither is a question not so easily answered; since the same halting-place shows no track of either horse or man leading towards it!

Odd all this might appear, indeed inexplicable, to one unacquainted with the nature of a dust-storm, or unaware of the incidents which have preceded. But to Gaspar, the gaucho, everything is as clear as daylight; and, after a short inspection of the "sign," he thus truthfully interprets it:--

"The redskins had just got thus far, when the _tormenta_ came on. It caught them here, and that's why we see these smooth patches; they lay down to let it blow by. Well; there's one good turn it's done us: we now know the exact time they pa.s.sed this spot; or, at all events, when they were on it. That must have been just after we entered the cave, and were engaged with the _tigre_--I mean it Number 1. No doubt by the time we tackled the old Tom, they were off again. As, you see, _muchachos_, some little rain has sprinkled that trail since they pa.s.sed over it, which shows they went away in the tail of that terrific shower.

So," he adds, turning round, and stepping back towards his horse, "there's nothing more to be done but ride off after them; which we may now do as rapidly as our animals can carry us."

At this they all remount, and setting their horses' heads to the Indian trail, proceed upon it at a brisk pace; no longer travelling tandem, but broadly abreast.

CHAPTER FORTY TWO.

PICKING UP PEARLS.

From their new point of departure, the trackers have no difficulty about the direction; this traced out for them, as plain as if a row of finger-posts, twenty yards apart, were set across the _salitral_. For at least a league ahead they can distinguish the white list, where the saline efflorescence has been turned up, and scattered about by the hoofs of the Indian horses.

They can tell by the trail that over this portion of their route the party they are in pursuit of has not ridden in any compact or regular order, but straggled over a wide s.p.a.ce; so that, here and there, the tracks of single horses show separate and apart. In the neighbourhood of an enemy the Indians of the Chaco usually march under some sort of formation; and Gaspar, knowing this, draws the deduction that those who have latest pa.s.sed over the _salitral_ must have been confident that no enemy was near--either in front or following them. Possibly, also, their experience of the _tormenta_, which must have been something terrible on that exposed plain, had rendered them careless as to their mode of marching.

Whatever the cause, they now, taking up their trail, do not pause to speculate upon it, nor make any delay. On the contrary, as hounds that have several times lost the scent, hitherto faint, but once more recovered, and now fresher and stronger than ever, they press on with ardour not only renewed, but heightened.

All at once, however, a shout from Cypriano interrupts the rapidity of their progress--in short, bringing them to a halt--he himself suddenly reigning up as he gives utterance to it. Gaspar and Ludwig turn simultaneously towards him for an explanation. While their glances. .h.i.therto have been straying far forward, he has been giving his habitually to the ground more immediately under his horse's head, and to both sides of the broad trail; his object being to ascertain if among the many tracks of the Indians' horses, those of Francesca's pony are still to be seen.

And sure enough he sees the diminutive hoof-marks plainly imprinted--not at one particular place, but every here and there as they go galloping along. It is not this, however, which elicited his cry, and caused him to come so abruptly to a stop. Instead, something which equally interests, while more surely proclaiming the late presence of the girl, in that place, with the certainty of her being carried along a captive.

He has caught sight of an object which lies glistening among the white powder of the _salitre_--whitish itself, but of a more l.u.s.trous sheen.

Pearls--a string of them, as it proves upon closer inspection! At a glance he recognises an ornament well-known to him, as worn by his girlish cousin; Ludwig also, soon as he sees it, crying out:--

"It's sister's necklet!"

Gaspar, too, remembers it; for pearls are precious things in the eyes of a gaucho, whose hat often carries a band of such, termed the _toquilla_.

Cypriano, flinging himself from his saddle, picks the necklace up, and holds it out for examination. It is in no way injured, the string still unbroken, and has no doubt dropped to the ground by the clasp coming undone. But there are no traces of a struggle having taken place, nor sign that any halt had been made on that spot. Instead, the pony's tracks, there distinctly visible, tell of the animal having pa.s.sed straight on without stop or stay. In all likelihood, the catch had got loosened at the last halting-place in that conflict with the storm, but had held on till here.

Thus concluding, and Cypriano remounting, they continue onward along the trail, the finding of the pearls having a pleasant effect upon their spirits. For it seems a good omen, as if promising that they may yet find the one who had worn them, as also be able to deliver her from captivity.

Exhilarated by the hope, they canter briskly on; and for several leagues meet nothing more to interrupt them; since that which next fixes their attention, instead of staying, but lures them onward--the tops of tall trees, whose rounded crowns and radiating fronds tell that they are palms.

It still lacks an hour of sunset, when these begin to show over the brown waste, and from this the trackers know they are nearing the end of the _travesia_. Cheered by the sight, they spur their horses to increased speed, and are soon on the edge of the _salitral_; beyond, seeing a plain where the herbage is green, as though no dust-storm had flown over it. Nor had there, for the _tormenta_, like cyclones and hurricanes, is often local, its blast having a well-defined border.

Riding out upon this tract--more pleasant for a traveller--they make a momentary halt, but still remaining in their saddles, as they gaze inquiringly over it.

And here Cypriano, recalling a remark which Gaspar had made at their last camping-place, asks an explanation of it. The gaucho had expressed a belief, that from something he remembered, they would not have much further to go before arriving at their journey's end.

"Why did you say that?" now questions the young Paraguayan.

"Because I've heard the old _cacique_, Naraguana, speak of a place where they buried their dead. Strange my not thinking of that sooner; but my brains have been so muddled with what's happened, and the hurry we've been in all along, I've forgotten a good many things. He said they had a town there too, where they sometimes went to live, but oftener to die.

I warrant me that's the very place they're in now; and, from what I understood him to say, it can't be very far t'other side this _salitral_. He spoke of a hill rising above the town, which could be seen a long way off: a curious hill, shaped something like a wash-basin turned bottom upwards. Now, if we could only sight that hill."

At this he ceases speaking, and elevates his eyes, with an interrogative glance which takes in all the plain ahead, up to the horizon's verge.

Only for a few seconds is he silent, when his voice is again heard, this time in grave, but gleeful, exclamation:--

"_Por todos Santos_! there's the hill itself!"

The others looking out behold a dome-shaped eminence, with a flat, table-like top recognisable from the quaint description Gaspar has just given of it, though little more than its summit is visible above the plain--for they are still several miles distant from it.