by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
WHY COME THEY NOT?
A night of dread suspense has been passed at the estancia of LudwigHalberger. No one there has thought of sleep. Even the dark-skinneddomestics--faithful Guano Indians--touched with sympathy for the senora,their mistress, do not retire to rest. Instead, retainers all, outsidethe house as within, sit up throughout the night, taking part with herin the anxious vigil.
As the hours drag wearily along, the keener become her apprehensions;that presentiment of the morning, which during all the day has neverleft her, now pressing upon her spirit with the weight of woe itself.She could scarce be sadder, or surer that some terrible mischance hadhappened to her husband and daughter, had she seen it with her own eyes.And were both to be brought back dead, 'twould be almost what she isanticipating.
In vain her son Ludwig, an affectionate lad, essays to cheer her. Dohis best to assign or invent reasons for their prolonged absence, hecannot chase the dark shadow from her brow, nor lift the load off herheart. And Cypriano, who dearly loves his aunt, has no more success.Indeed, less, since almost as much does he need cheering himself. Foralthough Francesca's fate is a thing of keen inquietude to the brother,it is yet of keener to the cousin. Love is the strongest of theaffections.
But youth, ever hopeful, hinders them from despairing; and despite theirsolicitude, they find words of comfort for her who hears them withoutbeing comforted.
"Keep up heart, mother!" says Ludwig, feigning a cheerfulness he farfrom feels. "'Twill be all right yet, and we'll see them home to-morrowmorning--if not before. You know that father has often stayed out allnight."
"Never alone," she despondingly answers. "Never with Francesca. Onlywhen Gaspar was along with him."
"Well, Gaspar's with him now, no doubt; and that'll make all safe. He'ssure to have found them. Don't you think so, Cypriano?"
"Oh! yes," mechanically rejoins the cousin, in his heart far fromthinking it so, but the reverse. "Wherever they've gone he'll get upontheir tracks; and as Gaspar can follow tracks, be they ever so slight,he'll have no difficulty with those of uncle's horse."
"He may follow them," says the senora, heaving a sigh, "but whither willthey lead him to. Alas, I fear--"
"Have no fear, _tia_!" interrupts the nephew, with alacrity, an ideaoccurring to him. "I think I know what's detaining them--at least, it'svery likely."
"What?" she asks, a spark of hopefulness for an instant lighting up hersaddened eyes; Ludwig, at the same time, putting the question.
"Well," replies Cypriano, proceeding to explain, "you know how uncletakes it, when he comes across a new object of natural history, oranything in the way of a curiosity. It makes him forget everythingelse, and everybody too. Suppose while riding over the campo he chancedupon something of that sort, and stayed to secure it? It may have beentoo big to be easily brought home."
"No, no!" murmurs the senora, the gleam of hope departing suddenly as ithad sprung up. "It cannot be that."
"But it can, and may," persists the youth, "for there's something Ihaven't yet told you, _tia_--a thing which makes it more probable."
Again she looks to him inquiringly, as does Ludwig, both listening withall ears for the answer.
"The thing I'm speaking of is an ostrich."
"Why an ostrich? your uncle could have no curiosity about that. He seesthem every day."
"True, but it's not every day he can catch them. And it was onlyyesterday I heard him tell Caspar he wanted one, a cock bird, for somepurpose or other, though what, he didn't say. Now, it's likely, almostcertain, that while on their way to the _tolderia_, or coming back, hehas seen one, given chase to it, leaving Francesca somewhere to wait forhim. Well, _tia_, you know what an ostrich is to chase? Now laggingalong as if you could easily throw the noose round its neck, thenputting on a fresh spurt--'twould tempt any one to keep on after it.Uncle may have got tantalised in that very way, and galloped leaguesupon leagues without thinking of it. To get back to Francesca, and thenhome, would take all the time that's passed yet. So don't let usdespair."
The words well meant, and not without some show of reason, fail,however, to bring conviction to the senora. Her heart is too sad, thepresentiment too heavy on it, to be affected by any such sophistry. Inreturn, she says despairingly--
"No, _sobrino_! that's not it. It your uncle had gone after an ostrich,you forget that Caspar has gone after him. If he had found them, they'dall have been back before this. _Ay de mi_! I know they'll never beback--never more!"
"Nay, mamma! don't say that," breaks in Ludwig, flinging his arms aroundher neck, and kissing the tears from her cheek. "What Cypriano saysappears to me probable enough, and likely to be true. But if it isn't,I think I can tell what is."
Again the sorrowing mother looks inquiringly up; Cypriano, in turn,becoming listener.
"My idea," pursues Ludwig, "is that they went straight on to the_tolderia_, and are there still--detained against their will."
Cypriano starts, saying. "What makes you think that, cousin?"
"Because of Naraguana. You know how the old Indian's given to drinking_guarape_. Every now and then he gets upon a carousal, and keeps it upfor days, sometimes weeks. And he may be at that now, which wouldaccount for none of them having been to see us lately. If that's thereason, the silly old fellow might just take it into his head to detainfather and Francesca. Not from any ill will, but only some crazy notionof his own. Now, isn't that likely enough?"
"But Gaspar? they wouldn't detain him. Nor would he dare stay, afterwhat I said to him at parting."
It is the senora who speaks, for Cypriano is now all absorbed inthoughts which fearfully afflict him.
"Gaspar couldn't help himself, mamma, any more than father or sister.If the chief be as I've said--intoxicated--all the other Indians will bethe same, sure enough; and Gaspar would have to stay with them, if theywished it. Now, it's my opinion they have wished it, and are keepingall of them there for the night. No doubt, kindly entertaining them, intheir own rough way, however much father and Francesca may dislike it,and Gaspar growl at it. But it'll be all right. So cheer up, _madremia_! We'll see them home in the morning--by breakfast time, or beforeit."
Alas! Ludwig's forecast proves a failure; as his mother too surelyexpected it would. Morning comes, but with it no word of the missingones. Nor is any sign seen of them by anxious eyes, that from earliestdaybreak have been scanning the plain, which stretches away in front ofthe estancia. Nothing moves over it but the wild creatures, itsdenizens; while above it, on widely extended wings, soars a flock ofblack vultures--ill omen in that moment of doubt and fear.
And so passes the hour of breakfast, with other hours, on till it ismid-day, but still no human being appears upon the plain. 'Tis onlylater, when the sun began to throw elongated shadows, that one is seenthere, upon horseback, and going in a gallop; but he is heading _from_the house, and not _toward_ it. For the rider is Cypriano himself, who,no longer able to bear the torturing suspense, has torn himself awayfrom aunt and cousin, to go in search of his uncle and another cousin--the last dearer than all.