"Many things. But, pray what is the name of the master of whom you speak?"
"Don Augustin Pena--proprietor of the Hacienda del Venado."
A ray of joy lit up the countenance of the unknown.
"I am able," he said, "to furnish Don Augustin with all the information he may desire. How many days" journey is it from hence to the hacienda?"
"Three days" journey, with a good horse."
"I possess a capital one; and if you can wait for me until to-morrow evening, I shall accompany you, and communicate with Don Augustin in person."
"Be it so," answered the major-domo.
"Very well," added the man of the red handkerchief; "to-morrow at this same hour we will start, so that we may travel by night, and so escape the heat."
Saying this, he took his departure, when the major-domo remarked:
"It must be agreed, gentlemen, that nothing can exceed the complaisance of this cavalier of the red handkerchief."
The arrangement did not satisfy the bystanders, who were thoroughly disappointed; but their interest was renewed, on seeing the man of the red handkerchief pa.s.s by on horseback, and depart at full speed towards the north.
The unknown kept his promise: and on the day following he returned at the hour of the evening _angelus_.
Don Augustin"s two envoys took leave of their host, a.s.suring him of a kind welcome, if ever his affairs led him in the direction of the Hacienda del Venado. Even the poorest in this primitive country, would blush to receive any other reward for hospitality than sincere thanks, and a promise that they in their turn should receive it.
The three hors.e.m.e.n set off at full speed; the horse of the unknown equalled in strength and mettle those of Don Augustin"s envoys. The journey was rapidly accomplished; and at dawn of the third day, they could trace in the distance the clock-tower of the Hacienda del Venado, and an hour afterwards they dismounted in the court-yard. Although it was at that early hour when the sun sheds its most enlivening rays, everything which surrounded this habitation bore the stamp of melancholy. One might have supposed that the gloomy nature of the inmates was reflected upon its exterior.
Dona Rosarita was dying of grief; and this filled the haciendado with the deepest anxiety. Don Augustin"s daughter could not help the belief that Fabian yet lived. But why, then, had not Tiburcio, as she always called him, returned to the hacienda? Either he was dead, or he no longer loved her? It was this uncertainty that gave rise to Dona Rosarita"s deep dejection.
Another source of anxiety to the haciendado, was the absence of all news from the Duke de Armada; and to this anxiety was added impatience. The projected marriage between Rosarita and the Senator had been devised by Don Estevan. Tragaduros had urged its fulfilment. Don Augustin had laid the proposal before his daughter, but she replied only by tears; and her father still hesitated.
However, at the expiration of six months, it was determined to put an end to the uncertainty by sending to the Presidio for information concerning the expedition commanded by Don Estevan. It was the last respite that poor Rosarita had ventured to demand.
The Senator had absented himself for some days from the hacienda, when the major-domo returned, and Don Augustin was informed of the arrival of a stranger who could remove his uncertainty. He ordered the stranger to be introduced into the chamber already known to the reader; and Dona Rosarita, who had been sent for, speedily joined her father.
In a few moments the stranger presented himself. A wide felt hat, to which on entering he raised his hand without removing it, shaded his face, upon which a keen anxiety was visible. From beneath the broad brim of his hat a red handkerchief fell so low upon his forehead as almost to conceal his eyebrows, and from beneath its shadow he gazed with a singular interest upon the pale countenance of the young girl.
CHAPTER FIFTY THREE.
THE STRANGER"S STORY.
Her head veiled by a silk scarf which partly concealed the luxuriant tresses of her dark hair as they fell in luxuriant cl.u.s.ters upon her bosom, Dona Rosarita"s countenance gave evidence of long and secret suffering.
As she seated herself, a look of deep disquietude increased her paleness. It seemed as though the young girl feared the approach of a moment, in which she might be required to renounce those sweet dreams of the past, for the reality of a future she dared not contemplate.
When the stranger was also seated the haciendado addressed him.
"We are indebted to you, my friend," he said, "for travelling thus far to bring us news which I have been forewarned may prove of a very sad nature; nevertheless we must hear all. G.o.d"s will be done!"
"My news is in truth sad; but as you say, it is necessary," and the stranger, laying a stress upon these last words, seemed to address himself more particularly to Dona Rosarita, "that you should hear all.
I have been witness to many things yonder; and the desert does not conceal so many secrets as one might suppose."
The young girl trembled slightly, while she fixed upon the man of the red handkerchief, a deep and searching glance.
"Go on, friend," said she, in her melodious voice, "we shall have courage to hear all."
"What do you know of Don Estevan?" resumed the haciendado.
"He is dead, Senor."
A sigh of grief escaped Don Augustin, and he rested his head upon his hands.
"Who killed him?" he asked.
"I know not, but he is dead."
"And Pedro Diaz--that man of such n.o.ble and disinterested feeling?"
"He, like Don Estevan, is no more of this world."
"And his friends Cuchillo, Oroche, and Baraja?"
"Dead as well as Pedro Diaz, all dead except--but with your leave, Senor, I shall commence my narrative at an earlier period. It is necessary that you should know all."
"We shall listen to you patiently."
"I need not detail," resumed the narrator, "the dangers of every kind, nor the various combats in which we were engaged since our departure.
Headed by a chief who inspired us with boundless confidence, we shared his perils cheerfully."
"Poor Don Estevan!" murmured the haciendado.
"During the last halt in which I was present, a report spread through the camp that we were in the vicinity of an immense treasure of gold.
Cuchillo, our guide, deserted us; he was absent two days. It was doubtless G.o.d"s will that I should be saved, since it inspired Don Estevan with the idea of sending me in search of him. He therefore commanded me to scour the country in the environs of the camp.
"I obeyed him, notwithstanding the danger of the mission, and went in search of our guide"s footsteps. After some time I was fortunate enough to find his traces; when all at once I perceived in the distance a party of Apaches engaged in a hunt of wild horses. I turned my horse"s head round as quickly as possible, but the ferocious yells which burst out on every side told me that I was discovered."
The stranger, in whom the reader has doubtless recognised Gayferos, the unfortunate man who had been scalped, paused an instant as though overcome by horrible recollections. Then in continuation, he related the manner in which he was captured by the Indians, his anguish when he thought of the torments they were preparing for him, the desperate struggle by which he kept up in his race against them with naked feet, and the inexpressible sufferings he endured.
"Seized by one of them," said he, "I was struck by a blow which felled me to the earth; then I felt the keen edge of a knife trace, as it were, a circle of fire around my head. I heard a gun fired, a ball hissed close to my ears, and I lost all consciousness. I cannot tell how many minutes pa.s.sed thus. The sound of a second shot caused me to open my eyes, but the blood which covered my face blinded me; I raised my hand to my head, which felt both burning and frozen. My skull was bare, the Indian had torn off the hair with the scalp attached to it. In short, they had scalped me! That is the reason, Senor, that I now wear this red handkerchief both by day and by night."
During his recital, a cold perspiration covered the narrator"s countenance. His two listeners shuddered with horror.
After a momentary pause, he continued:
"I ought perhaps to spare you, as well as myself, other sad details."