Gaspar the Gaucho Part 26

"We must m.u.f.fle our animals," says Caspar. "And what's more, take them back to the other side, where we came up. There we can better conceal them among the bushes. Besides, if it should come to our being under the necessity of a speedy retreat, we'll be nearer to the back-track, and have a fairer chance of getting off. Senoritos! get your jergas, and wrap them round your horses' heads."

He sets the example by so disposing of his own; and, accustomed to quick action in matters of the kind, all three soon have their animals "tapado." Then, leading them across to where the path ascends on the opposite side, they place them under cover of some thick bushes growing near by, Caspar saying:

"They'll be safe enough here, I take it; at all events till the morning.

Then we may move them elsewhere, and if we're to have a run for it, remember, _hijos mios_, 'twill be a race for our lives. There's no Naraguana now to stand between us and that young wolf, who I fear has got the dear little lamb in his clutches, so fast we'll have great--"

The effect of his words are such, upon those listening to them, that he suddenly interrupts himself in what he was about to say, and in changed tone continues: "_Carramba_! we'll rescue her yet, Naraguana, or no Naraguana. It can be done without him, and I think I know the way."

In saying so, Caspar is practising a slight deception, his object being to cheer his young companions, over whom his last speech seemed to cast the gloom of despair. For he has as yet thought of no way, nor conceived any definite plan of action. When asked by Cypriano to explain himself, he is silent; and appealed to, he answers by evasion.

The truth is, that up to the instant of his finding Naraguana's body upon the scaffold, he too had been trusting all to what the latter would do for them; and no more than Ludwig could he believe the good old chief to have turned traitor to the palefaced friend so long under his protection, much less connived at his a.s.sa.s.sination. Now, the gaucho knows he has had no hand either in the murder of his master, or the abduction of that master's daughter. These events must have occurred subsequent to his death, and, while they were in the act of occurrence, Naraguana was sleeping his last sleep under his plumed _manta_ upon that elevated platform. His son and successor--for Gaspar doubts not that Aguara has succeeded him in the chieftainship--is answerable for the deed of double crime, whoever may have been his aiders and abettors.

Of course, this makes the case all the more difficult to deal with, since the new _cacique_, by this time established in full plenitude of power, will have it all his own way, and can carry things with a high hand, as he most surely will. To make appeal to him for the rest.i.tution of the captive would be manifestly idle, like asking a tiger to surrender the prey it holds between its teeth or in its claws. The gaucho has no thought of so appealing, any more than either of the others. And no more than they has he formed a plan of future action.

Only now, after their disposal of the horses, is his brain busy in the conception of some scheme suited to the changed circ.u.mstances; and hence, on Cypriano asking him to tell the way he knew of, he but replies evasively, saying:

"Be patient, Senorito! Wait till we've got things a little snug, then I'll take pleasure in telling you. But we mustn't remain here. On the other side of this queer cemetery, where the road runs down to the _tolderia_--as I've no doubt there is such--that will be the place for us to spend the night in. There we can see and hear what pa.s.ses on the plain, and should any one stray up we'll be warned of it, either by our eyes or ears, in good time to get out of their way. So let us cross over. And we must step silently," he adds, pointing to the _cacique's_ scaffold tomb, "lest we disturb the sleep of old Naraguana, up yonder."

With this facetious remark, made partly in the indulgence of his usual humour, but as much to raise the spirits of his young companions, he strides off among the odd structures, making direct for the other side of the cemetery, Ludwig and Cypriano following in single file.

CHAPTER FORTY NINE.

GASPAR MEANS MASQUERADING.

As they might truly antic.i.p.ate, the gaucho's conjecture proves to be correct. A road runs up to the summit of the hill on its western side; not direct, but somewhat zigzagged, in consequence of the slope on that face being steeper, and the ground more rocky and uneven. Withal, it is much wider than that by which they ascended, the latter being only a path leading out to the uninhabited pampa: while the former is the main thoroughfare between town and cemetery. It debouches on the level summit through a slight hollow, or defile, possibly due to the wear and tear of travel, continued through the long ages. Many a funeral procession, and from the most remote time, may have wound its way up that steep slope, pa.s.sing between two cliffs, which, like the posterns of some grand gateway, mark the entrance to this elevated burial-place.

They do not go direct to the point where the town road enters the cemetery ground, but first back to the fig-tree to get their guns, ponchos, and some other articles left under it in their haste to put the horses in a better place of security. Having recovered the weapons and chattels, they proceed in search of the road. It is easily found, as all the paths between the separate scaffolds run into it. The point where it comes up out of the defile is but a short distance from the fig-tree; and on reaching this point they take their stand under the cliff; the one on the right hand side: for the moon being behind this, its shadow is projected more than half across the causeway of the road, so giving them a safe spot to stand in.

But they do not remain long upon their feet. Gaspar, observing a low bench of rock at the cliff's base behind them, repeats a Spanish synonym of the old saw, "It's as cheap sitting as standing;" and with this drops down upon the ledge, the others doing likewise.

The spot thus chosen is in every way answerable for the object they have in view. They are right over the Indian town, and can see into its streets, so far as is permitted by the moon's declining light. It commands, moreover, a view of the road, for a good reach below, to the first angle of the zigzag, and no one could ascend beyond that point without being seen by them so long as there is light; while there is no danger of being themselves seen. One pa.s.sing up, even when opposite the place where they are seated, would not perceive them; since, in addition to the shadowing cliff, there is a thick scrub between them and the travelled track, effectually screening them.

The advantages of the position are apparent to all; and, soon as settled in it, Cypriano once more calls upon Gaspar to make known the plan he has hinted at.

Thus again challenged, the gaucho, who has meanwhile been doing his best to trace out some course of action, responds, speaking in a slow, meditative way. For as yet he has but a vague idea of what ought to be done.

"Well," he says, "there's but one plan I can think of as at all likely to be successful. It may be, if dexterously managed; and I dare say we can so manage it."

He pauses, seeming to deliberate within himself; which the two youths perceiving, refrain to ask further questions, leaving him to continue at his own time.

Which at length he does, with the odd observation:--

"One of us must become an Indian."

"Become an Indian!" exclaims Ludwig. "What mean you by that, Gaspar?"

"I mean counterfeit a redskin; get disguised as one, and so steal into their town."

"Ah! now, I understand. But that will be a dangerous thing to do, Gaspar. If caught--"

"Of course it will be dangerous," interrupts the gaucho. "If caught, whoever of us it be, would no doubt get his skull crushed in by a _macana_, or maybe his body burnt over a slow fire. But as you see everything's dangerous for us now, one may as well risk that danger as any other. As to counterfeiting an Indian, I propose taking the part myself; and I should be able to play it pretty well, having, as you both know, had some experience in that line. It was by a trick of the same sort I got off from the Guaycurus when I was their prisoner up the Pilcomayo; and if I hadn't done it neatly, you shouldn't now see me here."

"How did you manage it?" queries Ludwig mechanically, or rather, to know how he intended doing it now.

"Well, I borrowed the costume of an ugly savage, who was set to keep guard over me, having first taken a loan of his hardwood club. The club I returned to him, in a way he wouldn't have wished had he been awake.

But he was silly enough to go to sleep, and was sleeping when I took it--ah! and slept on after I returned it--ever after. His dress I kept, and wore for more than a week--in short, till I got back to Paraguay, for I was over a week on the road. It fitted me well; so well, that with some colouring stuff I found in the fellow's pouch, I was able to paint Indian, pa.s.s among the tents of the Guaycurus, and through a crowd of the savages themselves, without one of them suspecting the trick. In that way I slipped out of their camp and off. So, by something of the same I may be able to get the dear little _nina_ out of this town of the Tovas."

"Oh! do it, Gaspar!" exclaims Cypriano; "do that, and all I have will be yours."

"Yes! all we both have," adds Ludwig; "all there is at the _estancia_.

But rescue sister, and I'm sure my mother will make you welcome to everything."

"_Ta-ta_!" returns the gaucho, in a tone of reproach at being thus bargained with; gentle, however, as he knows it is from their anxiety about Francesca. "Why, _hijos mios_, what are you speaking of?

Promises to me,--a bribe for but doing my duty! 'Twill be a far day before Gaspar Mendez will need that for service done to either friend or relative of his dear dead master--ay, to the laying down of my life.

_Carramba_! are we not all embarked in the same boat, to swim or sink together? But we sha'n't sink yet; not one of us. No; we shall swim out of this sea of troubles, and triumphantly. Cease despairing, then; for after all there mayn't be so much danger. Though Naraguana be dead, there's one above him, above all, up there in Heaven, who will not forsake us in this our extremity. Let us kneel and pray to Him."

And they do kneel; Ludwig, as called upon by Gaspar repeating the Lord's prayer, with a solemnity befitting the occasion.

CHAPTER FIFTY.

A MIDNIGHT PROMENADER.

Rising from their knees, and resuming their seats upon the ledge, they return to the subject of discourse, interrupted by their devotional interlude; Caspar declaring it his fixed intention to disguise himself as an Indian, and so seek entrance into the town. No matter what the danger, he is ready to risk it.

The others consenting, the next question that comes before them is, how the disguise is to be got up. About this there seems a difficulty to Ludwig, and also to Cypriano; though recalling the transformation of the latter into a soldier-crane, so quickly done by the deft hands of the gaucho, they doubt not that he will also find the ways and means for transforming himself into a redskin.

"If we only had a Tovas Indian here," he says, "as I had that sleepy Guaycuru, I'd not be long in changing clothes with him. Well, as we can't borrow a dress, I must see what can be done to make one. Good luck, there's no great quant.i.ty of cloth in a Tovas suit, and the st.i.tching isn't much. All that's needed is a bit of breech-clout, which I can make out of the tail of my shirt; then the poncho over my shoulders, that will cover everything."

"But the colour of your skin, Gaspar! Wouldn't that betray you?"

Ludwig thus interrogates, not thinking how easily the dexterous gaucho can alter his complexion, nor recalling what he has said about his having done so to disguise himself as a Guaycuru.

"It might," returns Gaspar; "and no doubt would, if I left it as it is; which I don't intend doing. True, my face is not so fair as to need much darkening, beyond what the sun has done for it. I've seen some Tovas Indians with cheeks nigh as white as my own, and so have you, senoritos. As for my arms, legs, and body, they'll require a little browning, but as it so happens I've got the stuff to give it them.

After the service rendered me by a coat of that colour, you may trust this gaucho never to go on any expedition over the pampas without a cake of brown paint stowed away in some corner of his _alparejas_. For the poncho, it won't be out of place. As you know, there are many of the common kind among the Tovas Indians, worn and woven by them; with some of better sort, s.n.a.t.c.hed, no doubt, from the shoulders of some poor gaucho, found straying too far from the settlements."

"But, Gaspar," says Ludwig, still doubting the possibility of the scheme; "surely such a disguise as you speak of will never do? In the daylight they'd see through it."

"Ah! in the daylight, yes, they might. But I don't intend giving them that chance. If I enter their town at all, and I see no other way for it, that entry must be made in the darkness. I propose making it to-morrow evening, after the sun's gone down, and when it's got to be late twilight. Then they'll all be off guard, engaged in driving their animals into the _corrales_, and less likely to notice any one strolling about the streets."

"But supposing you get safe into the place, and can go about without attracting attention, what will you do?" questions Ludwig.

"What can you?" is the form in which Cypriano puts it.

"Well, senoritos, that will depend on circ.u.mstances, and a good deal on the sort of luck in store for us. Still you mustn't suppose I'm trusting all to chance. Gaspar Mendez isn't the man to thrust his hand into a hornet's nest, without a likelihood--nay, a certainty, of drawing some honey out of it."

"Then you have such certainty now?" interrogates Cypriano, a gleam of hope irradiating his countenance. For the figurative words lead him to believe that the gaucho has not yet revealed the whole of his scheme.