In hurried phrase she recounts the incidents which have occurred to her and Nacena on the Cemetery Hill, adding her conjectures as to what may have transpired since, and may still be in the act of occurrence. Among these last are her suspicions, well founded as we know, that Kaolin"s sister has aided the paleface to escape; and that her own slave, who should have hindered, has not only connived at it, but taken himself away as well. In short, the cage is empty, and the bird with its keeper both flown!
What direction the fugitives have taken, is a question to which the sorceress can give answer without the need of any doubtful surmise or conjecture. She knows it as well as if she herself had appointed the place of rendezvous, given by Gaspar to the Indian girl. For while riding double with the gaucho, she had heard him speak of it to his companions; heard, despite the poncho spread over her ears, the word _ceiba_, with others, which told of their intention to stay by that tree.
The _cacique_ knows the noted spot, as well as Nacena herself, he too having oft played beneath its shade, or climbed up its grand trunk and disported himself among its branches, when more of a boy than he is now.
But he reflects not on these past times, so full of innocence and happiness. Instead, wild with rage, and wretched as he is angry, he stays not to reflect at all; but hastily, and little better than half-dressed, he rushes forth from his _toldo_, calling loudly for his horse.
Meanwhile, the sorceress has aroused others of the tribe; several of whom, in obedience to their chief"s command, start off for the _corrals_ to procure the horses necessary for a pursuit of the fugitives.
Aguara"s is on the ground first; and, without waiting for companion or attendant of any kind, he vaults upon the animal"s back, and goes off at a gallop along the path, which, after turning around close to the hill, at about a mile"s distance, farther on pa.s.ses the _ceiba_ tree.
CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN.
THE CAPTIVE RECAPTURED.
Impossible to describe the feelings of Caspar, when having recovered his feet after the tumble out of his _recado_, he finds that Shebotha has got away from him. It is some consolation to know that neither himself nor his horse has received serious injury. Still not sufficient to satisfy him, nor allay the wild exasperation burning within his breast, which seeks to vent itself in a string of maledictions poured plenteously from his lips.
As the hag, however, has surely succeeded in getting off, and it would be idle to attempt pursuing through the thick scrub, his anathemas hurled after her are all in vain: and, at thought of this, he soon ceases to p.r.o.nounce them. For the reflection quick follows, that he and his companions have now something else to think about--their own safety, doubly endangered by Shebotha"s escape.
"_Mil demonios_!" is his last exclaim of the kind, after getting his horse upright again and himself back into the saddle, "who"d have believed the old beldame had so much suppleness in her joints? But it"s no joking matter. Only to think of it! Everything looking so bright, and now Satan"s luck once more back upon us--bad, if not worse, than ever! Well, we mustn"t dilly-dally here. If there"s still a chance left us, we"ll have to look for it down below, by that big cotton tree."
Saying which, he again gives the rein to his horse, and continues the descent of the hill, the others head and tail close after.
On reaching the said cotton tree, however, Gaspar changes his mind about that spot being the best for their temporary abiding place. Since its being arranged as a rendezvous with Nacena, the circ.u.mstances have sadly altered, and, on reflection, he deems it better, as do the others, to keep on along the road towards the _tolderia_--at least for some little distance. There can be no harm in that, nor danger of their going astray. The path is a plain one, much trampled by horses and cattle, and, notwithstanding the darkness of the night, easily discernible. If fortune so far favour them, that the captive will be coming that way, under the guidance of the Indian girl, the sooner these be met the more chance for all eventually getting safe off, rescuers as rescued.
So concluding, they make scarce a moment"s halt by the _ceiba_; but, pa.s.sing under its umbrageous branches, head their horses along the trail leading to the town.
At this moment were it daylight, or even a clear moonlight, one placed upon the brow of the hill fronting south-eastward, and looking down to the level plain by its base, would behold two separate parties moving upon it, but in opposite directions, so that, if they continue to advance, they must meet. One party is mounted, the other afoot; the former being Gaspar and his two companions, while the latter is also composed of three individuals--Nacena, Francesca, and Shebotha"s slave.
The two girls, going in a half-run, are side by side, and ahead of the man; who, less free of foot, has fallen behind them to a distance of some twenty or thirty paces. Nacena, who knows the way, guides the escaping captive, and has hold of her by the hand. They are now not more than half-a-mile from the mounted party, coming the opposite way, and in a few minutes should meet it, if nothing prevent. Already within hailing distance, they might hear one another"s voices; but neither being aware of this mutual proximity, all advance in silence--the trio on horseback proceeding at a slow pace for caution"s sake, lest the tread of their animals should betray them.
But if their own be not heard afar, there are other hoofs making a noise to disturb the stillness of the night. Just as the Indian girl has whispered to her paleface _protegee_ some words of cheer, saying that her friends are now no great way off, she is startled by the hoof-stroke of a horse, which her practised ear tells her to be ridden; while the rapid repet.i.tion of the sound denotes the animal going in a gallop.
Suddenly she stops, and listens. Clearer rings the "tramp--tramp," as nearer the horseman approaches. Coming up behind, from the direction of the town, who can it be but one in pursuit of them? And if a pursuer, what other than Aguara?
Still Nacena is in doubt, and deems it strange. As they stole away from Shebotha"s hut, and through the straggling suburb of the _tolderia_, all was darkness and silence, everybody seeming asleep. Who or what could have awakened the _cacique_, and apprised him of the flight of his captive?
In asking herself these questions, Kaolin"s sister is under the belief, that the sorceress is herself still a prisoner, in the keeping of that stalwart and redoubtable gaucho. Hence her surprise at their being pursued, with the uncertainty that they are so, and the further doubt of the pursuer being Aguara.
He it is, notwithstanding; and as yet pursuing alone. For although soon can be heard the hoof-strokes of other horses than his also following, these are faint and far-off. He himself hears them; knows it is a party of his young braves pressing on after, but will not wait for them to come up. For he hopes to overtake the fugitives, ere they can reach the place of rendezvous Shebotha has spoken of, and recover his captive before she can fling herself into the arms of protecting friends.
In this hope, alas! he is not disappointed. Dashing on through the darkness along a road with every foot of which both he and his horse are familiar, he first comes up with the half-witted creature lagging behind, soon as beside him putting the question--
"Where is the paleface, your prisoner?"
The man, frightened at seeing it is the _cacique_, in his confusion hesitates to make reply. But Aguara does not wait for it. He hears voices ahead--soft and sweet, though raised in tones of alarm--and knows she must be there. Giving his horse"s head a wrench, so as to shave close past the delinquent jailer, he raises his _macana_, and dealing a downward blow, strikes the latter to the earth: then hastens on after the others.
Nacena now knows for certain that they are pursued, as also who is the pursuer. She has heard the question asked by Aguara, recognising his voice; heard also the dull thud of his club as it descended on the skull of the unfortunate man; and now again hears the trampling of hoofs renewed and drawing nearer. She has still hold of Francesca"s hand, and for a moment debates within herself what is best to be done, and whether she should not release it, and turning show front to the pursuer.
Too late for that, or aught else likely to be of service either to herself or _protegee_. Before any resolve reaches her the _cacique_, is by their side; and flinging himself from his horse, grasps both by the wrists, wrenching asunder their joined hands. Then turning upon the Indian girl with a cry of rage--a curse in the Tovas tongue--he strikes her with his shut fist, inflicting a blow which sends her reeling to the earth. Before she can regain her feet he is once more upon his horse, and heading back for the _tolderia_--his recovered captive in his arms!
CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT.
VA CON DIOS.
In a rush Aguara goes, fast as his animal can be urged by heel and voice. For, while so roughly separating the two girls, these had shouted in alarm, and his ear had caught other cries raised at a distance, and as if responsive. Now he hears them again; men"s voices, and mingling with them the trampling of hoofs--clearly several horses coming on in a gallop. She, he has in his arms, hears them too, but listens not in silence or unresisting. Instead, she struggles and shrieks, calling "Help, help!" with the names "Ludwig, Cypriano, Gaspar!"
She is heard by all three; for it is they who responded to the cries of herself and Nacena, knowing who gave utterance to them. Near they are now, and riding as in a race; they, too, pressing their horses to utmost speed. But the darkness is against them, as their ignorance of the ground, with which the man pursued is familiar. By this, at every step, they are obstructed; and but for the screams of Francesca, still continued, might as well abandon the chase for any chance they have of overtaking him.
And overtake him they never would, nor could, were fortune not in their favour. An accident it may appear; at the same time seeming a divine retribution for wrong--a very Nemesis in the path of the wicked Aguara.
On returning past the spot where he had struck down Shebotha"s slave, he sees the unfortunate man stretched along the ground, and, to all appearance, still insensible. Nought cares he for that, but his horse does; and, at sight of the prostrate form, the animal, with a snort of affright, shies to one side, and strikes off in a new direction. Going at so swift a pace, and in such a dim light, in a few bounds it enters among some bushes, where it is brought up standing. Before its rider can extricate it, a strong hand has hold of it by the head, with a thumb inserted into its nostrils, while the fingers of another are clutching at his own throat. The hand on the horse"s muzzle is that of Caspar the gaucho, the fingers that grope to get a gripe on the rider"s neck being those of Cypriano.
It is a crisis in the life of the young Tovas _cacique_, threatening either death or captivity. But subtle as all Indians are, and base as any common fellow of his tribe, instead of showing a bold front, he eludes both, by letting go the captive girl, himself slipping to the ground, and, snake like, gliding off among the bushes.
On the other side of his horse, which he has also abandoned, Francesca falls into the arms of her brother, who embraces her with wild delight.
Though not wilder, nor half so thrilling, as that which enraptures the ear of Cypriano--to whose arms she is on the instant after transferred.
But it is not a time for embraces, however affectionate, nor words to be wasted in congratulation. So Gaspar tells them, while urging instant departure from that perilous spot.
"Our lucky star"s gone up again," he says, with a significant nod to Aguara"s horse, which he has still hold of. "There is now four of us; and as I take it this brisk little _musteno_ is fairly our property, there"ll be no need for any of us riding double--to say nothing of one having a witch behind his back. Without such inc.u.mbrance, it"ll be so much the better for the saving of time; which at this present moment presses, with not the hundredth part of a second to spare. So _hijos mios_, and you, _hija mia querida_, let us mount and be off!"
While the gaucho is yet thus jocularly delivering himself, Cypriano has lifted his cousin, Francesca, to the back of the _cacique"s_ abandoned steed; on which he well knows she can keep her seat, were it the wildest that ever careered across _campo_. Then he remounts his own, the other two taking to their saddles at the same time.
A word about the route, and all four start together; not to go back along the trail towards the _ceiba_ tree, but striking straight out for the open plain, in a direction which Gaspar conjectures to be the right one.
They would willingly diverge from it to ascertain whether the poor creature clubbed by Aguara be dead or still living; and, if the latter, take him along. But Gaspar urges the danger of delay; above all, being burdened with a man not only witless, but now in all likelihood disabled by a wound which would make the transporting him an absolute impossibility.
Ludwig and his sister are more desirous to turn aside, and learn how it is with Nacena. But again the gaucho, no: greatly given to sentiment, objects. Luckily, as if to relieve them from all anxiety, just then they hear a voice, which all recognise as that of the Tovas belle, calling out in tolerably pure Castilian:--
"_Va con Dios_!"
Standing up in his stirrups, with a shout and counter salute, the gaucho returns the valediction; then, spurring forward and placing himself at the head of the retreating party, they ride on, with no thought of again halting so long as their horses can keep their feet.
CHAPTER FIFTY NINE.
FRIENDS OR FOES?
The solitary _estancia_ which for two years had been the happy home of Ludwig Halberger and his family, but late the abode of deepest sorrow, is once more revisited by a gleam of joy. For the rescuing party has returned to it, bringing Francesca back safe and still unharmed. In the tumult of gratified emotions at recovering her lost child,--or rather children, for she had begun to think them all for ever gone from her-- the widow almost forgets that she is widowed.
Only for a brief moment, however. The other great bereavement has been too recent to remain long out of her thoughts, and soon returns to them in its full afflicting bitterness.
But she has no time to dwell upon it now. The tale of actual experience which the rescuers have brought back, with Caspar"s surmises added, has given her a full and clear comprehension of everything; not only explaining the tragic event already past, but foreshadowing other and further dangers yet to come, and which may, at any moment, descend upon herself and the dear ones still left to her.