The Tiger Hunter Part 19

"But why did you promise your hair?" inquired the lover, with a slight air of chagrin.

"Because I had nothing more valuable to offer in exchange for your life--mine perhaps as well. Oh! I am well repaid for the sacrifice by knowing that you love me. Come, Rafael! take the scissors."

"Oh! I could never manage with that weak instrument," said Don Rafael, speaking merely to gain time.

"Ah! are you going to complain of the trouble it will give you?"

inquired Gertrudis, bending down towards her lover, who was still kneeling before her--"Come, my brave Rafael! Use these scissors. I command you."

Don Rafael took the shining instrument in his trembling hand, but still hesitated to use them--like the woodman, who, with his axe raised against some n.o.ble tree of the forest he has been ordered to cut down, hesitates before striking the first blow. Gertrudis would have smiled to encourage him, but at that moment, as she looked upon those gorgeous tresses, so long and carefully guarded, and which, if unfolded, would have covered her like a shawl, the poor young girl could not hinder a tear from escaping her.

"Stay, my Rafael--a moment yet," cried she, while the crimson blush mantled higher upon her cheeks. "I have long desired--dreamt of it as a supreme felicity--to entwine in these poor tresses the man whom I should one day love, and--and--"

Before she could finish speaking, Don Rafael had caught the perfumed tresses between his fingers, and rapturously kissing them, pa.s.sed them around his neck.

"Now I am ready," continued she, raising the long plaits that encircled her lover's cheeks, and setting the captive free. "Go on, Rafael! I am ready."

"I should never have the courage to commit such a fearful act," cried the officer, flinging the scissors upon the floor, and crushing them under his heel.

"It must be done, Rafael; it must be done. G.o.d will punish me else.

Perhaps He may punish me by taking away from me your love."

"Well, I shall do it," rejoined the reluctant lover, "but not yet awhile. On my return, Gertrudis. For my sake, leave it over till then."

The pa.s.sionate appeal of Don Rafael at length obtained a respite, until the time fixed for his return; which was to be on the morrow--as soon as he should have a.s.sured himself of the safety of his father.

While their next meeting was being arranged between the two lovers, Gertrudis suddenly started up, like a young doe that springs from its perfumed lair at the first sound of the hunter's horn.

"Surely I heard a noise?" said she; "a strange noise. What could it mean?"

Don Rafael, whose senses had been entirely absorbed by his new-found happiness, sprang also to his feet, and stood listening.

They had scarce listened for a dozen seconds, when a well-known sound fell upon the ears of both--though well-known, a sound significant and ominous. It was the report of a gun, quickly followed by several others as if fired in fusillade.

At the same moment, Don Mariano and his daughter Marianita rushed into the room. They, too, had heard the reports, which were in the direction of the hills, and were proceeding to the rear of the hacienda to inquire the cause.

All remained listening and alarmed--Don Rafael, more than even the young girls: for too much happiness has the effect of weakening the heart.

The most profound silence reigned throughout the building; for the firing, heard by the servants of the hacienda, had inspired one and all of them with the same mute alarm; just as pigeons asleep upon the tree aroused by the first scream of the kite, remain for some moments terrified and motionless in their places.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

A MEXICAN MAJOR-DOMO.

Don Mariano, the dragoon officer, and the two sisters rushed up to the _azotea_, the hearts of all filled with a dread presentiment.

From the roof, already crowded with servants, a view of the ridge could be obtained--its whole slope from top to bottom being visible at a single glance. A horrible spectacle came under the eyes of all at once.

At the upper end of the path which led towards the Hacienda del Valle, a horse and horseman were seen lying upon the road close to one another.

Both appeared to be wounded--the man struggling to regain his feet--the horse making only the slightest motion, as if in the last moments of life.

"Haste!" cried Don Mariano to his domestics. "Haste! Procure a litter, and have the wounded horseman carried down here to the house."

"If my eyes don't deceive me," said the young officer, casting uneasy glances to the hill, "yonder unfortunate man is poor old Rodriguez, the oldest of my father's servants."

The head of the wounded horseman was in fact covered with grey hair, as could be seen from the _azotea_.

"The name Antonio Valdez," continued Don Rafael, "now recalls to me some facts connected with that wretch. I remember something of a punishment inflicted upon him; and I have a dark presentiment--Oh, heavens! Senor Don Mariano, such happiness to be thus interrupted--"

And without finishing his speech, the young officer hastily pressed the hand of his host, and rushed for the postern that opened towards the hills.

In a few seconds after, he was seen climbing the ridge, followed by the domestics of Don Mariano, who carried a _litera_.

On reaching the wounded man, Don Rafael had no longer any doubts about his being old Rodriguez; though having seen the latter only in his childhood, he remembered little more than the name.

Rodriguez, enfeebled by the loss of blood, and by the efforts he had been making to get upon his feet, was fast losing consciousness.

"Hold!" said Don Rafael to the domestic. "It is useless placing him on the _litera_. He will not be able to endure the motion. His blood has nearly all run out by this terrible wound."

As the officer spoke he pointed to a large red spot upon the vest of the wounded man, beneath which the b.l.o.o.d.y orifice of a wound showed where the bullet had entered.

The dragoon captain had fairly won his spurs in the sanguinary wars of the Indian frontier. He had witnessed death in all its forms, and his experience had taught him to adopt the readiest means in such a crisis.

He first stopped the bleeding with his handkerchief, and then, taking the scarf of China c.r.a.pe from his waist, he bound it tightly over the wound. For all this he had but little hopes of the man's recovery. The bullet had entered between his shoulders, and pa.s.sed clear through his body.

Don Rafael only antic.i.p.ated that, the haemorrhage once stopped, the wounded man might return for a moment to consciousness, he was, no doubt, the bearer of some important message from his master, and it behoved Don Rafael to learn its purport.

Some time elapsed before the old servant opened his eyes; but one of Don Mariano's people at that moment came up, carrying a flask of _aguardiente_. A few drops were poured down his throat. Some of the liquid was sprinkled over his temples, and this had the effect of momentarily reviving him.

Opening his eyes, he beheld his young master bending over him. He had not seen Don Rafael since childhood, but he knew he was in the neighbourhood, and that the young officer must be he.

"It is I, Rodriguez," said Don Rafael, speaking close to his ear. "I-- Rafael Tres-Villas. You have a message from my father? Why has he sent you?"

"Blessed be G.o.d that He has sent _you_," said the old man, speaking with difficulty. "Oh! Senor Don Rafael, I bring fearful news. The hacienda Del Valle--"

"Is burnt?"

The wounded man made a sign in the negative.

"Besieged, then?"

"Yes," replied Rodriguez in a feeble voice.

"And my father?" inquired the officer with a look of anguish.

"He lives. He sent me to you--to Don Mariano's--to ask a.s.sistance. I-- pursued by the brigands--a bullet--here! Do not stay with me. Hasten to your father. If any misfortune happen--Antonio Valdez--Remember-- Antonio Valdez--miscreant--taking vengeance for--oh, young master! Don Rafael--pray for poor old Rodriguez--who nursed you when a child-- pray--"

The sufferer could speak no more, even in whispers. His head fell back upon the turf. He was dead. When the litter was set down in the courtyard of Las Palmas it carried only a corpse! Don Rafael had turned back for his horse, and to bid a hasty adieu to the family of his host.