It was the reflection as of a great fire on the brow of the hill where my people were beleaguered.
"The camp is already attacked, and in flames," I muttered. Whither should I ride now--backwards or forwards?
While I yet hesitated the flames appeared to wax fiercer and fiercer, till presently--oh, joy!--a big round moon gradually shook itself clear of a cloud and began slowly to climb the eastern sky.
All fear fled now. I muttered a prayer of thankfulness, dashed the spurs into my good horse"s sides, and went on at the gallop.
The time seemed short after this, and almost before I knew I came right upon the fort, and was challenged by the sentry.
"_Amigo!_" I yelled. "_Amigo! Angleese!_"
I dare say I was understood, for soon after lights appeared on the ramparts, and I was hailed again, this time in English, or for what pa.s.sed as English. I rode up under the ramparts, and quickly told my tale.
In ten minutes more I was received within the fort. A tumble-down place I found it, but I was overjoyed to be in it, nevertheless. In the princ.i.p.al room most of the men were playing games, and smoking and talking, while the commandant himself lounged about with a cigarette in his mouth.
He considered for a minute or two--an age it appeared to me--ere he answered. Yes; he would come, and take with him fifteen soldiers, leaving the rest to guard the fort. I could have embraced him, so joyful did I feel on hearing these words.
How long would he be? One hour, no more. For arms had to be cleaned, and ammunition to be got ready; and the men must feed.
A whole hour! No wonder I sighed and looked anxious. Why, every minute was precious to my poor beleaguered friends. It would be long past midnight ere I reached the camp again, for these men would not be mounted. Yet I saw the good little commander was doing his best, not only to expedite matters, but to treat me with kindness and hospitality. He brought forth food and wine, and forced me to eat and drink. I did so to please him; but when he proposed a game to pa.s.s the time, I began to think the man was crazed. He was not. No; but possessed a soldierly virtue which I could not boast of--namely, patience.
The work of entrenchment was soon completed after my departure; then there was nothing more to be done except to appoint the men to their quarters, place sentinels on the highest of the waggons, and wait.
Ah, but this waiting is a weary thing under circ.u.mstances like the present--waiting and watching, not knowing from what quarter the attack will come, what form it will take, or when it will commence.
Except in the chief caravan itself, where Moncrieff and Donald sat for a time to keep up the hearts of the ladies, no lights were lit.
There was no singing to-night, hardly a smile on any face, and no one spoke much above a whisper. Poor old Jenny had gone to sleep, as usual.
"Wake me," had been her last words. "Wake me, laddie, when the Philistines are upon us."
"The old lady"s a marvel!" Moncrieff had whispered to aunt.
Moncrieff was doing all he could to keep conversation alive, though, strange to say, Bombazo seldom spoke. Surely he could not be afraid.
Moncrieff had his suspicions. Brave as my aunt was, the waiting made her nervous.
"Hark!" she would say every now and then; or, "Listen! What was that?"
"Only the cry of a burrowing owl," Moncrieff might have to answer; or, "Only the yap of a prowling fox." Oh, the waiting, the weary waiting!
The moon rose at last, and presently it was almost as light as day.
"Will they come soon, think you?" whispered poor Aileen.
"No, darling; not for hours yet. Believe me there is no danger. We are well prepared."
"Oh, Alec, Alec!" she answered, bursting into tears; "it is you I fear for, not myself. Let me go with you when they come. I would not then be afraid; but waiting here--oh, it is the waiting that takes all the heart out of me."
"Egyptian darkness!" murmured the old lady in her sleep. Then in louder, wilder key, "Smite them!" she exclaimed. "Smite this host of the Philistines from Gideon to Gaza."
"Dear old mither, she"s dreaming," said Moncrieff. "But, oh, we"ll laugh at all this by to-morrow night, Aileen, my darling."
One hour, two hours went slowly, painfully past. The moon mounted higher and higher, and shone clearer and clearer, but not yet on all the plains were there signs of a mounted Indian.
Yet even at that moment, little though our people knew it, swarthy forms were creeping stealthily through the pampas gra.s.s, with spears and guns at trail, pausing often to glance towards the camp they meant so soon to surprise and capture.
The moon gets yet brighter. Moncrieff is watching. Shading his eyes from the light, he is gazing across the marsh and listening to every sound. Not a quarter of a mile away is a little marshy lake. From behind it for several minutes he has heard mournful cries. They proceed from the burrowing owls; but they must have been startled! They even fly towards the camp, as if to give warning of the approach of the swarthy foe.
Suddenly from the edge of the lake a sound like the blast of a trumpet is heard; another and another, and finally a chorus of trumpet notes; and shortly after a flock of huge flamingoes are seen wheeling in the moonlit air.
"It is as I thought," says Moncrieff; "they are creeping through the gra.s.s. Hurry round, Dugald, and call the men quietly to quarters."
Moncrieff himself, rifle in hand, climbs up to the top of the waggon.
"Go down now," he tells the sentry. "I mean to fire the first shot."
He lies down to wait and watch. No bloodhound could have a better eye.
Presently he sees a dark form raise itself near a tussock of gra.s.s. There is a sharp report, and the figure springs into the air, then falls dead on the pampas.
No need for the foe to conceal themselves any longer. With a wild and unearthly scream, that the very earth itself seems to re-echo, they spring from their hiding and advance at the double towards the fort--for fort it is now. As they come yelling on they fire recklessly towards it. They might as well fire in the air.
Moncrieff"s bold Doric is heard, and to some purpose, at this juncture.
"Keep weel down, men! Keep weel to cove_rrr_! Fire never a shot till he has the o_rr_der. Let every bullet have its billet. Ready!
Fire-_r_-_r_-_r_!"
Moncrieff rattled out the _r_"s indefinitely, and the rifles rattled out at the same time. So well aimed was the volley that the dark cloud seemed staggered. The savages wavered for a time, but on they came again, redoubling their yells. They fired again, then, dropping their guns, rushed on towards the breastwork spears in hand. It was thus that the conflict commenced in dread earnest, and the revolvers now did fearful execution. The Indians were hurled back again and again, and finally they broke and sought cover in the bush. Their wounded lay writhing and crying out close beneath the rampart, and among these were also many who would never move more in this world.
On seeing the savages take to the bush, Moncrieff"s anxiety knew no bounds. The danger of their discovering the horses was extreme. And if they did so, revenge would speedily follow defeat. They would either drive them away across the pampas, or in their wrath slaughter them where they stood.
What was to be done to avert so great a catastrophe? A forlorn hope was speedily formed, and this my two brothers volunteered to lead. On the first shout heard down in the hollow--indicating the finding of our horses--Donald, Dugald, and fifteen men were to rush out and turn the flank of the swarthy army if they could, or die in the attempt.
Meanwhile, however, the enemy appeared bent on trying cunning and desperate tactics. They were heard cutting down the bushes and smaller trees, and not long afterwards it looked as if the whole wood was advancing bodily up towards the breastwork on that side.
A rapid and no doubt effective fire was now kept up by Moncrieff and his men. This delayed the terrible _denoument_, but it was soon apparent that if some more strategic movement was not made on our part it could not wholly thwart it.
At all hazards that advancing wood must be checked, else the horrors of fire would be the prelude to one of the most awful ma.s.sacres that ever took place on the lonely pampas.
"How is the wind?" asked Moncrieff, as if speaking to himself.
"It blows from the wood towards the camp," said Dugald, "but not quite in a line. See, I am ready to rush out and fire that pile."
"No, Dugald," cried Donald; "I am the elder--I will go."
"Brother, I spoke first."
"Yes," said Moncrieff, quietly, "Dugald must go, and go now. Take five men, ten if you want them."