Wood Rangers Part 19

"Caspita!" exclaimed the monk. "Does he think it beneath him?"

"It may be he has the right to think so," added Don Augustin, again smiling mysteriously.

"But who is this man?" inquired the monk, with an air of surprise.

Just as Don Augustin was about to reply, a servant entered the _sala_.

"Senor Don Augustin," said the servant, "there are two travellers at the gate, who beg of you to give them a night's lodging. One of them says that he is known to you."

"Bid them welcome!" replied the haciendado, "and let them enter.

Whether they are known to me or not, two guests more or less will be nothing here."

A few seconds after, the two travellers had advanced to the foot of the stone stairway, where they stood awaiting the presence of the master of the house.

One of them was a man of about thirty years of age--whose open countenance and high forehead denoted courage, combined with intelligence. His figure presented an appearance of strength and vigorous activity, and he was somewhat elegantly dressed--though without any signs of foppery.

"Ah! is it you, Pedro Diaz?" cried Don Augustin, recognising him. "Are there any Indians to be exterminated, since I find you coming into these solitudes of ours?"

Pedro Diaz was, in truth, known as the most celebrated hater and hunter of Indians in the whole province--hence the strange salutation with which Don Augustin received him.

"Before answering you, Senor Don Augustin, permit me to introduce to you the king of _gambusinos_ and prince of musicians, the Senor Don Diego Oroche, who scents a placer of gold as a hound would a deer, and who plays upon the mandolin as only he can play."

The individual presented under the name of Oroche, solemnly saluted the haciendado.

It must have been a long time since the prince of gambusinos had found an opportunity to exercise the subtle talent of which his companion spoke--or else the cards had been of late unlucky--for his outward man presented an appearance that was scarcely more than comfortable.

In reaching his hand to his hat, it was not necessary for him to disarrange the folds of his cloak. It only required that he should choose one of the numerous rents that appeared in this garment, to pa.s.s through it his long-clawed fingers--whose length and thinness denoted him a player on the mandolin. In reality, he carried one of these instruments slung over his shoulders.

Don Augustin invited both Diaz and his singular companion to enter.

When they were seated in the saloon Diaz began the conversation.

"We have heard," said he, "of an expedition being got up at Arispe to proceed to _Apacheria_; and this gentleman and I are on our way to take part in it. Your hacienda, Senor Don Augustin, chanced to lie in our way, and we have entered to ask your permission to lodge here for the night. By daybreak we shall continue our route for Arispe."

"You will not have to go so far," replied Don Augustin, with a smile.

"The expedition is already on foot, and I expect the leader of it here this very night. He will be glad of your services, I guarantee you, and it will save you several days' journey."

"A miracle in our favour!" exclaimed Diaz; "and I thank G.o.d for the lucky coincidence."

"The thirst of gold has caught you also, Pedro Diaz?" asked Don Augustin, smiling significantly.

"No, thank G.o.d!" replied Diaz, "nothing of the sort. Heave the searching for gold to experienced gambusinos, such as the Senor Oroche here. No--you know well that I have no other pa.s.sion than hatred for the ferocious savages who have done so much ill towards me and mine. It is only because I hope through this expedition once more to carry steel and fire into their midst, that I take any part in it."

"It is right," said the haciendado, who like all dwellers upon the frontiers exposed to Indian incursions, nourished in his heart a hatred for the savages almost equal to that of Diaz himself. "I approve of your sentiments, Don Pedro Diaz; and if you will permit me to offer you a gage of mine, I beg you will accept from me the present of a horse I have--one that will carry you to your satisfaction. I promise you that the Indian you pursue, while on his back, will require to go as fast as the wind itself, if you do not overtake him."

"He shall be my war-horse," exclaimed Diaz, his eyes sparkling with pleasure at the gift. "I shall ornament his crest with Indian scalps, in honour of him who gave him to me."

"I cannot divine what has delayed Don Estevan," said the haciendado, changing the subject of conversation. "He should have been here three hours before this, that is, if he pa.s.sed the night at La Poza."

Don Augustin had scarce finished his speech when a sudden and graceful apparition glided into the saloon. It was his daughter, the beautiful Rosarita.

As if the expected cavalcade only awaited her presence, the clattering of hoofs at the same instant was heard outside; and by the light of the torches which the domestics had carried out, Don Estevan and his suite could be seen riding up to the entrance of the hacienda.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

ROSARITA.

On the route from La Poza it had fallen to the lot of Cuchillo and Tiburcio to ride side by side, but for all this few words had pa.s.sed between them. Although Cuchillo had not the slightest idea of renouncing his dire design, he continued to hide his thoughts under an air of good-humour--which when need be he knew how to a.s.sume. He had made several attempts to read the thoughts of the young gambusino, but the latter was on his guard, seeking in his turn to identify Cuchillo with the a.s.sa.s.sin of his father. No opportunity offered, however; and in this game of mutual espionage, neither had the advantage.

Nevertheless, an instinctive and mutual hatred became established between the two, and before the day's journey was over, each regarded the other as a mortal foe. Cuchillo was more than ever determined to execute his h.e.l.lish purpose--since a crime less or more would be nothing to him--while Tiburcio, keenly remembering the oath which he had made to his adopted mother, was resolved on keeping it, and only awaited the time when he should be sure of the a.s.sa.s.sin. We need scarcely add that Tiburcio in the accomplishment of his vow, had no thought of playing the a.s.sa.s.sin. No. Whenever and wherever the murderer should be found, he was to die by Tiburcio's hand; but only in fair and open fight.

But there were other painful reflections that occupied Tiburcio's mind during the journey. The nearer he approached the object of his love the greater seemed to be the distance between them. Though a man may hope to obtain what he only wishes for in a moderate way, yet when anything is ardently yearned after, the obstacles appear insurmountable. Hence the secret of many a heroic resolution. When Tiburcio was reclining by the well of La Poza, his sweet dream hindered him from thinking of these obstacles; but now that the journey was nearly ended, and he drew near to the grand hacienda, his spirits fell, and a feeling of hopelessness took possession of his soul. Hence it was that he formed the resolution to put an end to the painful suspense which he had now a long time endured; and that very night, if possible, he intended to ascertain his position in the eyes of Dona Rosarita. Come what might, he resolved to ask that question, whose answer might render him at once the happiest or the most miserable of men.

When Tiburcio had first met Dona Rosarita, with her father and his servants, in the depth of the forest, he knew nothing of the rank of the party thus wandering astray. Even during the two happy days in which he acted as their guide, he was ignorant of the name of the beautiful young girl, to whom his eyes and his heart rendered a continual homage. He therefore permitted himself to indulge in those pleasant dreams which have their origin in a hopeful love. It was only after he had learned the quality of his fellow-travellers--that the young lady was the daughter of the opulent proprietor, Don Augustin Pena--it was only on ascertaining this that Tiburcio perceived the folly of his aspirations, and the distance that lay between him and the object of his love. If then the secret, so unexpectedly revealed to him, had given him a desire for the possession of riches, it was not for the sake of being rich.

No; a n.o.bler object inspired him--one more in keeping with his poetic character. He desired riches only that with them he might bridge over the chasm that separated him from Rosarita.

Unhappily he could not hide from himself the too evident fact that he was not the sole possessor of the secret.

All at once it occurred to him that the expedition to which he found himself thus accidentally attached could have no other object than this very placer of the Golden Valley. Most likely the very man who shared the secret with him--the murderer of Marcos Arellanos--was among the men enrolled under the orders of the chief Don Estevan. The ambiguous questioning of Cuchillo, his comprehension of events, the stumbling of his horse, with other slighter indications, appeared to throw some light upon the obscurity of Tiburcio's conjectures; but not enough. How was he (Tiburcio) to arrive at a complete understanding?

A still more painful uncertainty pressed upon his spirit, as they approached the dwelling of Don Augustin. What reception would he meet with from Dona Rosarita? he, a poor gambusino--without resources, without family--poorly dressed even--a mere follower, confounded with the common mob of adventurers who composed the expedition? Sad presentiments were pa.s.sing in his mind, as the cavalcade of which he formed so humble an appendage arrived at the palisade enclosure of the hacienda.

The gates were soon open to receive them; and the moment after Don Augustin himself welcomed the travellers at the front entrance of the mansion. With that ease and elegance, almost peculiar to Spanish manners, he received Don Estevan and the Senator, while the cordiality with which he welcomed Tiburcio appeared to the young man a happy omen.

The travellers all dismounted. Cuchillo remained outside--partly out of respect to his chief and partly to look after his horse. As to Tiburcio, he had not the same motives for acting thus, and therefore entered along with Don Estevan and Tragaduros, his face pale and his heart beating audibly.

The room into which they had been shown was the grand sala already described, and in which certain preparations had been made for a magnificent banquet. But Tiburcio saw nothing of all this. His eyes beheld only one object--for there stood a beautiful girl whose lips rendered paler the carnation red of the granadillas, and the hue of whose cheeks eclipsed the rosy tint of the _sandias_, scattered profusely over the tables. It was Rosarita herself. A silken scarf covered her head, permitting the thick plaits of her dark hair to shine through its translucent texture, and just encircling the outline of her oval face. This scarf, hanging down below the waist, but half concealed her white rounded arms, and only partially hindered the view of a figure of the most elegantly voluptuous tournure. Around her waist another scarf of bright scarlet formed a sort of cincture or belt, leaving its long fringed ends to hang over the skirt of her silken robe, and blending its colours with those of the light veil that fell down from her shoulders. It was a costume that seemed well-suited to her striking beauty, and the effect of the _coup d'oeil_ upon the heart of poor Tiburcio was at once pleasant and embarra.s.sing.

Notwithstanding the gracious smile with which she acknowledged his presence, there was a certain hauteur about the proffered welcome--as if it was a mere expression of grat.i.tude for the service he had formerly rendered.

Tiburcio observed this with a feeling of chagrin, and sighed as he contrasted her cold formality of speech with the abandon and freedom of their former relations. But he could not help noticing a still greater contrast when he looked at his own poor garments and compared them with the elegant costumes of his two travelling companions.

While Don Estevan was entertaining his host with some account of what had happened on their journey, the Senator appeared to have eyes only for the beautiful Rosarita--upon whom he was not slow in lavishing a string of empty compliments.

The young girl appeared to Tiburcio to receive these compliments with a smile very different from that she had accorded to himself; he also observed, with a feeling of bitterness, the superior easiness of manner in which those whom he regarded as his rivals addressed themselves to her. With anguish he noticed the colour become more vivid upon her cheeks; while the heaving of her bosom, as the scarf rose and fell in regular vibrations, did not escape the keen glance of jealousy. In fact the young girl appeared to receive pleasure from these gallantries, like a village belle who listens to the flatteries of some grand lord, at the same time that a voice from within whispers her that the sweet compliments she is receiving are also merited.

Don Estevan was not un.o.bservant of this by-play that was pa.s.sing around him. He easily read in the expressive looks of Tiburcio the secret of his heart, and involuntarily contrasted the manly beauty of the young man with the ordinary face and figure of the Senator. As if from this he apprehended some obstacles to his secret projects, more than once his dark eyebrows became contracted, and his eyes shone with a sombre fire.

By little and little he ceased to take part in the conversation, and at length appeared wrapped in a profound meditation. Insensibly also an air of melancholy stole over the features of Rosarita. As for Don Augustin and the Senator they appeared at once to be on good terms with each other, and carried on the conversation without permitting it to flag for a moment.

Just then Cuchillo, accompanied by Baraja, entered to pay their respects to the master of the hacienda. Their entrance within the sala of course created some slight disarrangement in the tableaux of the _dramatis personal_ already there. This confusion gave Tiburcio an opportunity to carry out a desperate resolution he had formed, and profiting by it, he advanced nearer to Rosarita.

"I will give my life," said he to her, in a side whisper, "for one moment alone with you. I wish to speak of an affair of the highest importance."

The young girl regarded him for a moment with an air of astonishment, further expressed by a disdainful movement of the lip; although, considering their former relations, and also the free familiarity of Mexican manners, she might have been expected to have excused his freedom. Tiburcio stood waiting her reply in a supplicating att.i.tude, and as everything seemed spontaneous with her, he had not long to wait.

She answered in a few words:

"To-night then--at ten o'clock I shall be at my window."