by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
WHO RODE THE SHOD HORSE?
While waiting for the gaucho to rejoin them by the fire the two youthsare not silent, but converse upon the event which saddens and stillmystifies them. For up till this moment they have not seen anything,nor can they think of aught to account for the calamity which hasbefallen them--the double crime that has been committed. No more canthey conceive who have been the perpetrators; though Cypriano all alonghas had his suspicions. And now for the first time he communicates themto his cousin, saying--
"It's been the work of Tovas Indians."
"Impossible, Cypriano!" exclaims Ludwig in surprise. "Why should theymurder my poor father? What motive could they have had for it?"
"Motive enough; at least one of them had."
"One! who mean you?"
"Aguara."
"Aguara! But why he of all the others? And for what?"
"For what? Simply to get possession of your sister."
Ludwig starts, showing greater astonishment than ever.
"Cypriano!" he exclaims; "what do you mean?"
"Just what I've said, cousin. You're perhaps not aware of what I'vemyself known for long; that the chief's son has been fixing his eyes onFrancesca."
"The scoundrel!" cries Ludwig, with increasing indignation, for thefirst time apprised of the fact thus made known to him. Unobservant ofsuch things generally, it had never occurred to him to reflect on whathad long been patent to the jealous eyes of Cypriano. Besides, thething seemed so absurd, even preposterous--a red-skinned savagepresuming to look upon his sister in the light of a sweetheart, daringto love her--that the son of the Prussian naturalist, with all theprejudices of race, could not be otherwise than incredulous of it.
"Are you sure of that?" he questions, still doubting. "Sure of whatyou've said, Cypriano?"
"Quite sure," is the confident rejoinder; "more than once I've observedAguara's free behaviour towards my cousin; and once would have thrashedthe impudent redskin, but for uncle interfering. He was afraid it mightget us into trouble with Naraguana."
"But did father himself know of it? I mean about Aguara and Francesca?"
"No. I rather think not. And I disliked telling him."
All this is new light to Ludwig, and turns his thoughts into the samechannel of suspicion where those of Cypriano have been already running.Still, whatever he may think of Naraguana's son, he cannot bring himselfto believe that Naraguana has been guilty. His father's friend, andhitherto their protector!
"It cannot be!" he exclaims; "surely it cannot be!"
"It may be for all that, and in my opinion is. Ah! cousin, there's notelling how an Indian will act. I never knew one who didn't turntreacherous when it served his purpose. Whether the old chief has beenso or not, I'm quite sure his son has. Take my word for it, Ludwig,it's the Tovas Indians who've done this deed, and it will be with themwe'll have to deal."
"But whither can they have gone? and why went they off so suddenly andsecretly, without letting father or any of us know. All that certainlyseems strange."
"Not so strange when we think of what's happened since. My idea is,it's been all a planned thing. Aguara got his father to agree to hiscarrying off Francesca; and the old chief, controlled by the young one,let him take his way. Fearing to face uncle he first went off, takingthe whole tribe along; and they're now, no doubt, residing in somedistant part of the Chaco, where they suppose we'll never go after them.But Francesca will be there too; and we must follow and find her--ay,if we have to lay down our lives when she's found. Shall we not,cousin?"
"Yes; shall and will!" is Ludwig's rejoinder in a tone of determination;their dialogue getting interrupted by Gaspar coming back to thecamp-fire, and saying--
"Now, _senoritos_! It's high time we had some supper."
On making this announcement the gaucho himself sets about preparingtheir evening repast. It requires no great effort of culinary skill;since the more substantial portion of it has been already cooked, and isnow presented in the shape of a cold shoulder of mutton, with a cake ofcorn bread, extracted from a pair of _alparejas_, or saddle-bags. Inthe Chaco there are sheep--the Indians themselves breeding them--whilesince settling there the hunter-naturalist had not neglected eitherpastoral or agricultural pursuits. Hence the meal from which came thatcake of maize-bread.
With these two _pieces de resistance_ nothing remains but to make a cupof "Paraguay tea," for which Gaspar has provided all the materials,viz., an iron kettle for boiling water, cups of cocoa-nut shell termed_mates_--for this is the name of the vessel, not the beverage--andcertain tubes, the _bombillas_, to serve as spoons; the Paraguayan teabeing imbibed, not in the ordinary way, but sucked up through these_bombillas_. All the above implements, with a little sugar forsweetening; and, lastly, the _yerba_ itself, has the thoughtful gauchobrought along. No milk, however; the lacteal fluid not being deemed anecessary ingredient in the cup which cheers the Paraguayan people,without intoxicating them.
Gaspar--as all gauchos, skilled in the concoction of it--in a short timehas the three _mates_ brimful of the brew. Then the _bombillas_ areinserted, and the process of sucking commences; suspended only atintervals while the more substantial mutton and maize-bread are beingmasticated.
Meanwhile, as a measure of security, the camp-fire has beenextinguished, though they still keep their places around its embers.And while eating, converse; Cypriano imparting to Gaspar the suspicionshe has already communicated to his cousin.
It is no new idea to the gaucho; instead, the very one his own thoughtshave been dwelling upon. For he, too, had long observed the behaviourof the young Tovas chief towards the daughter of his _dueno_. And whathas now occurred seems to coincide with that--all except the supposedtreachery of Naraguana. A good judge of character, as most gauchos are,Gaspar cannot think of the aged cacique having turned traitor. Still,as Ludwig, he is at a loss what to think. For why should the Tovaschief have made that abrupt departure from his late abiding place? Thereason assigned by Cypriano is not, to his view, satisfactory; though hecannot imagine any other. So, they finish their suppers and retire torest, without having arrived at any certain conclusion, one way or theother.
With heads rested upon their saddles, and their ponchos wrapped aroundthem, they seek sleep, Ludwig first finding it; next Cypriano, though helies long awake--kept so by torturing thoughts. But tired nature atlength overpowers him, and he too sinks into slumber.
The gaucho alone surrenders not to the drowsy god; but, repelling hisattacks, still lies reflecting. Thus run his reflections--as will beseen, touching near the truth:
"_Carramba_! I can think of but one man in all the world who had aninterest in the death of my dear master. One there was who'd have givena good deal to see him dead--that's El Supremo. No doubt he searchedhigh and low for us, after we gave him the slip. But then, two yearsgone by since! One would think it enough to have made him almost forgetus. Forgive, no! that wouldn't be Senor Jose Francia. He neverforgives. Nor is it likely he has forgotten, either, what the _dueno_did. Crossing him in his vile purpose, was just the sort of thing tostick in his crop for the remainder of his life; and I shouldn't wonderif it's his hand has been here. Odd, those tracks of a shod horse; fourtimes back and forward! And the last of them, by their look, must havebeen made as late as yesterday--some time in the early morning, I shouldsay. Beyond the old _tolderia_, downward, they've gone. I wish I'dturned a bit that way as we came up, so as to be sure of it. Well, I'llfind that out, when we get back from this pursuit; which I very muchfear will prove a wild goose chase."
For a time he lies without stirring, or moving a muscle, on his back,with eyes seemingly fixed upon the stars, like an ancient astrologer inthe act of consulting them for the solution of some deep mystery hiddenfrom mortal ken. Then, as if having just solved it, he gives a suddenstart, exclaiming:
"_Sangre de Crista_! that's the explanation of all, the whole affair;murder, abduction, everything.
"
His words, though only muttered, awaken Cypriano, still onlyhalf-asleep.
"What is it, Gaspar?" questions the youth.
"Oh, nothing, _senorito_; only a mosquito that took a fancy to stick itsbill into the bridge of my nose. But I've given Master _Zancudo_ hisquietus; and he won't trouble me again."
Though the gaucho thinks he has at last got the clue to what has beenmystifying them, like all skilled tacticians he intends for a timekeeping it to himself. So, saying no more, he leaves his youngcompanion to return to his slumbers: which the latter soon does.Himself now more widely awake than ever, he follows up the train ofthought Cypriano had interrupted.
"It's clear that Francia has at length found out our whereabouts. Iwonder he didn't do so long ago; and have often warned the _dueno_ ofthe danger we were in. Of course, Naraguana kept him constantlyassured; and with war to the knife between the Tovas and Paraguayans, nowonder my poor master was too careless and confident. But something hashappened lately to affect their relations. The Indians moving somysteriously away from their old place shows it. And these shod-trackstell, almost for sure, that some white man has been on a visit to them,wherever they are now. Just as sure about this white man being anemissary from El Supremo. And who would his emissary be? Who sent onsuch an errand so likely as _him_?"
The emphasis on the "him" points to some one not yet mentioned, but whomthe gaucho has in his mind. Soon, however, he gives the name, saying:
"The scoundrel who bestrode that horse--and a thorough scoundrel too--isRufino Valdez. Assassin, besides! It's he who has murdered my master.I'd lay my life on it."
After arriving at this conclusion, he adds:
"What a pity I didn't think of this before! If but yesterday morning!He must have passed along the trail going back, and alone? Ah! thechance I've let escape me! Such an opportunity for settling old scoreswith Senor Rufino! Well, he and I may meet yet; and if we do, one of uswill have to stay on the spot where that encounter takes place, or becarried from it feet foremost. I think I know which would go that way,and which the other."
Thus predicating, the gaucho pulls his poncho around his shoulders, andcomposes himself for sleep; though it is some time before he succeeds inprocuring it.
But Morpheus coming to his aid, proves too many for the passions whichagitate him; and he at length sinks into a profound slumber, not brokentill the curassows send up their shrill cries--as the crowing ofChanticleer--to tell that another day is dawning upon the Chaco.