Wood Rangers Part 27

But her voice was either lost to his ears, or he disdained to reply.

She listened a moment, she could hear the sound of his footsteps fast dying in the distance--until they could be heard no more.

"Oh! my G.o.d," cried she, falling upon her knees in an att.i.tude of prayer, "protect this young man from the dangers that threaten him. Oh G.o.d! watch over him, for alas! he carries with him my heart."

Then forgetting in her grief her projects of ambition, the will of her father, all that deceptive confidence, which had kept silent the voice of a love, of the existence of which she was. .h.i.therto almost ignorant-- the young girl rose hastily from her knees, once more mounted upon the wall, and in a heart-rending voice called out, "_Come back! Tiburcio; come back! I love only you_!"

But no answer was returned, and wrapping her face in her reboso, she sat down and wept.

Before returning to her chamber she cast one more look in the direction of the forest, but the woods were still enveloped in the obscurity of night; all was sombre and silent, though in the distance the feeble light was still glimmering over the tree tops. All at once it appeared for an instant to flash more brightly, as if offering a welcome to him who had no longer a home!

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

AN ABRUPT DEPARTURE.

Don Estevan and Cuchillo, on leaving the ground of the combat, returned to the alley of granadines; but for some time not a word pa.s.sed between them. Don Estevan was buried in a profound meditation. More skilled than his coa.r.s.e companion in the mysteries of the female heart, he had divined, before the end of the dialogue between Rosarita and Tiburcio, that the young girl felt for the latter a tender sentiment. It was true it was just germinating in her soul; but the accents of her voice, her gestures, and other signs, discovered to the experienced intelligence of Don Estevan that she really loved Tiburcio, though herself not yet aware of the extent of that love.

For Tiburcio knowing the secret of the Golden Valley, Don Estevan cared little--that was a matter of secondary importance; but Tiburcio's love reciprocated by Dona Rosarita was a very different affair. This at once presented a series of obstacles to the ambitious projects of the Spaniard. Tiburcio then must be got out of the way at all hazards, and at any price. Such are the terrible exigencies of ambition.

It only remained to adopt some plan; but the Spaniard was not then in the spirit to think of one. He was writhing at the inadvertence that had just happened.

"The clumsy fool!" he muttered, but loud enough for his companion to hear him.

"Is it of me your excellency is speaking?" inquired Cuchillo, in a tone that savoured strongly of his usual impudence.

"Who else could I mean, you sot? You who neither know how to use strength or stratagem! A woman has accomplished what you could not do!

I have told you that this child is a giant to you; and had it not been for me--"

"Had it not been for you," interrupted the outlaw, "this young fellow would not now have been living to trouble us."

"How sir?" demanded Don Estevan.

"Last night, as I was bringing him to your bivouac, the fellow did an outrage to my honour, and actually threatened me. I was about putting an end to our differences by a shot from my carbine, when your precious old fool of a servant, Benito, came galloping up, and of course I had to renounce my design. So you see, the only good action I have ever done, has brought me to grief. Such is the reward of our virtue!"

"Speak for yourself, my droll fellow!" said the Spaniard, whose pride revolted at being thus cla.s.sed with such company as the outlaw. "But if that could be outraged which does not exist, may I ask what attempt this young man made upon your honour?"

"I do not know myself--it was something that happened with my horse, who has the fault--"

Cuchillo interrupted himself as one who has made an imprudent speech.

"The fault of stumbling in the left fore-leg?" added Don Estevan. "I see--this old history of the murder of Arellanos."

"I did not murder him," cried the outlaw, impudently. "I had reasons not to like him; but I pardoned him, for all that."

"Oh! you are so magnanimous! But come, an end to these pleasantries.

It remains for you to get this young man out of the way. I have my reasons for wishing it so--among others, he knows our secret. I gave you a half _onza_ to save his life. To-day I have different views regarding him; and I promise to give you twenty _onzas_ when I am a.s.sured that he is no longer alive."

"Agreed, Don Estevan; and in to-morrow's hunt of these wild horses, it will be strange if Tiburcio Arellanos don't knock his brains out against either a rock or the trunk of a tree, or at least get himself into some corner, where he won't be able to find his way out again. The only regret I have is, that I shall have to share these twenty onzas with my friends, Baraja and Oroche."

"To-morrow!" exclaimed Don Estevan; "and who knows but that to-morrow may be too late? Is the night not better for your purpose? Are you not three to one? Who is to a.s.sure you that to-morrow I may not change my mind?"

This threat seriously alarmed Cuchillo.

"Carramba! your excellency is quick to decide; you are not one of those who leave for to-morrow what should be done to-day. _Pues_--then--I shall try my best. In fact, it is very quiet here--I wonder the cries of this young woman have not startled the whole house. There's not a creature about."

Such was in reality the case. Notwithstanding the noise of the struggle between Tiburcio and his a.s.sailants, and later still, the cries of Rosarita, no one had been awakened. The vast extent of the building prevented these sounds from being heard, particularly as all the domestics of the hacienda, as well as the proprietor himself, were buried in a profound slumber.

Cuchillo now directed himself toward the apartment where he had left his comrades; Don Estevan returning at the same time to his own chamber.

The moon once more poured her soft, silvery light upon the grove of oranges, as if no crime had ever been attempted in that tranquil spot.

Don Estevan did not go to rest; but for a long time paced to and fro across his ample chamber, with the air of one accustomed to watch over ambitious projects while others were asleep.

After a lapse of time, Cuchillo was heard knocking softly at his door; and as soon as it was opened, the hired a.s.sa.s.sin stepped in. His confused looks caused Don Estevan to tremble. Was the deed already done? He wished it, yet feared to ask the question. Cuchillo relieved him from his embarra.s.sment by speaking first.

"My twenty onzas are gone to the devil!" said he, in a lugubrious tone.

"How?" hastily inquired Don Estevan.

"The bird has flown: the young man is no longer about the place."

"Gone!" exclaimed Don Estevan. "And you have let him escape?"

"How could I hinder him? This brute, Baraja, as well as Oroche, were both drunk with mezcal; and Diaz refused to a.s.sist me, point-blank.

While I was endeavouring to arouse the other two, the fellow had taken leg bail through an opening in the wall of the garden--at least that's all we can make out."

"And how have you arrived at this conjecture?" asked Don Estevan, angrily striking the floor with his foot.

"Why, when we arrived at the place, the Dona Rosarita was clinging over the wall, no doubt guided there by Tiburcio. He could not be far off at the time, for she was still calling upon him to return; and judging by the love-speeches she was making, she must have earnestly desired it."

"She loves him, then?"

"Pa.s.sionately--or her words and her accents are all deceit. '_Come back_!' she cried, '_Tiburcio, come back_! _I love only you_!' These were the last words I heard; for shortly after she left the wall, and went back to her room."

"We must to horse and pursue him!" cried Don Estevan, hurrying to make ready; "yes, there is no help for it now. The success of our expedition depends upon the life of this ragged fellow. Go! arouse Benito and the others. Tell them to saddle the horses. Warn your friends in the chamber that we must be _en route_ in an hour. Away! while I awake Don Augustin and the Senator."

"Just as I have known him for twenty years," muttered Cuchillo, as he hastened to his companions, "always awake, always ready for the greatest obstacles. Well, if with his character he has not made way in his own country, I fear that in Europe perseverance and energy are not worth much."

Don Estevan, as soon as Cuchillo had left him, spent a few minutes in putting himself once more in travelling costume, and then repaired to the chamber of the Senator. He found the door open--as is the custom in a country where people spend most of their lives outside their houses.

The moon was beaming full through the large window, and her light illumined the chamber as well as the couch upon which the Senator was sleeping.

"What is it, Don Estevan?" cried the Senator, suddenly leaping up in his bed; "Senor Estevan, I should say." Tragaduros had been dreaming of the court of the King of Spain. "What is it, your grace?"

"I come to take leave of you, and to give you my final instructions."

"Eh! what?" said the Senator. "Is the hour late? or have I been three days asleep?"

"No," gravely replied the Spaniard, "but there is a serious danger that menaces our projects--both yours and mine. This young rustic, whom we found on the road, knows all about the Golden Valley; and what is still worse, he loves Dona Rosarita, and Dona Rosarita loves him."