by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
THE CAPTIVE TRAIN.
Just about the same time that the party of trackers had turned to takedeparture from the barometer-tree, a cavalcade of a very different kind,and composed of a greater number of individuals, is moving over theplain, some forty or fifty miles distant. It is the party beingtracked; Aguara and his band of young braves on return to the _tolderia_of their tribe; the one now become their permanent place of abode.
More than one change has taken place in the Indian cohort since itpassed over the same ground going downward. In number it is still thesame; but one of them does not sit erect upon his horse; instead, liesbent across the animal's back, like a sack of corn. There he is fasttied to keep him from tailing off, for he could do nothing to preventthis--being dead! He it was who came forth from the _sumac_ grovewounded by Halberger's bullet, and the wound has proved fatal; thisaccounting for the pieces of _sipos_ seen at their camping-place.
Another change in the composition of the party is, that the white man,Valdez, is no longer with it. Just as Gaspar had conjectured, fromseeing the return tracks of his horse, he had parted company with theIndians at their first encampment, on the night after the murder.Another and very different individual, has taken his place at the headof the troop. The daughter of the murdered man who now rides by theside of the young Tovas chief!
Though a captive, she is not bound. They have no fear of her attemptingto escape; nor does she even think of it. Though ever so well mounted,she knows such an attempt would be idle, and on her diminutive roadster,which she still rides, utterly hopeless. Therefore, since the moment ofbeing made captive, no thought of escaping by flight had even enteredher mind.
With her long yellow hair hanging dishevelled over her shoulders, hercheeks white as lilies, and an expression of utter woe in her eyes, shesits her saddle seemingly regardless of where she is going, or whethershe fall off and get trampled under the hoofs of the horses comingbehind. It alone, her pony might wander at will; but alongside Aguara'shorse it keeps pace with the latter, its meek, submissive look, seemingto tell of its being as much a prisoner as its mistress.
Beyond the bereavement she has suffered by her father's death--for shesaw him struck down, and believes him to be dead--no ill-treatment hasbeen offered her: not even insult. Instead, the young cacique has beenmaking efforts to gain her good will! He pretends innocence of anyintent to take her father's life, laying it all on the shoulders ofValdez. Giving reasons too, not without some significance, and an airof probability. For was not the _vaqueano_ an old enemy of her father,while they were resident in Paraguay? The young Tovas chief has learntthis from Valdez himself, and does not fail to speak of it to hisprisoner. Further, he pretends it was on account of this very crime the_vaqueano_ has committed, that he parted company with them--in short,fled, fearing punishment had he accompanied them back to their town.
In this manner the wily Indian does all he can to mislead his captive,as they journey along together.
Captive, he does not call her; in this also feigning pretence. He tellsher that the reason for their not taking her direct to the _estancia_is, because of a party of Guaycurus, their enemies, being out on the warpath, and it was to discover the whereabouts of these he and hisfollowers were out scouting, when the sad mischance, as he flippantlyterms it, arose. That having learnt where the hostile Indians were, hehad needs return at once and report to the warriors of his tribe; thusthe excuse for his not seeing her to her home. They could not leave heralone in the wilderness, and therefore of necessity she was going withthem to their town; afterwards to be taken back to the _estancia_--toher mother. With such false tales, cunningly conceived, does heendeavour to beguile the ears of his captive.
For all that they are not believed; scarcely listened to. She, to whomthey are told, has reasons for discrediting them. Though but a child inyears, Francesca Halberger is not childish in understanding. Thestrange experiences and perils through which she, and all related toher, had passed, have given her the discernment of a more mature age;and well comprehends she her present situation, with other misfortunesthat have led to it. She is not ignorant of the young chief'spartiality for herself; more than once made manifest to her in signsunmistakable--by acts as well as words. Besides, what he is not awareof, she had overheard part of the speech which passed between him andthe _vaqueano_, as the latter was entering the _sumac_ grove, to do thatdeed which has left her without a father. Instead, therefore, ofAguara's words deceiving her into a false confidence, they butstrengthen the feeling of repulsion she has all along had for him.Whether listening or not, she makes no reply to what he says, nor evendeigns to look at him. Sitting listless, dejected, with her eyeshabitually bent upon the ground, she rides on as one who has utterlyabandoned herself to despair. Too sad, too terribly afflicted with whatis past, she appears to have no thoughts about the future, no hopes.Or, if at intervals one arises in her mind, it rests not on him now byher side, but her father. For as yet she knows not that Naraguana isdead.
If somewhat changed the _personnel_ of the Indian troop, much more is italtered in the general aspect and behaviour of those who compose it--avery contrast to what was exhibited on their way downward. No longermirthful, making the welkin ring with their jests and loud laughter;instead, there is silence upon their lips, sadness in their hearts, andgloom--even fear--on their faces. For they are carrying home one oftheir number a corpse, and dread telling the tale of it. What will theelders say, when they hear what has occurred? What do?
The feeling among Aguara's followers may be learnt from a dialogue,carried on between two of them who ride in the rear of the troop. Theyhave been speaking of their paleface captive, and extolling her charms,one of them saying how much their young cacique is to be envied his goodluck, in possession of such a charming creature.
"After all, it may bring him into trouble," suggests the more sage ofthe speakers, adding, "ay, and ourselves as well--every one of us."
"How that," inquires the other.
"Well; you know, if Naraguana had been living, he would never haveallowed this."
"But Naraguana is not living, and who is to gainsay the will of Aguara?He's now our chief, and can do as he likes with this captive girl, orany other. Can't he?"
"No; that he can't. You forget the elders. Besides, you don't seem toremember the strong friendship that existed between our old cacique andhim the _vaqueano_ has killed. I've heard say that Naraguana, justbefore his death, in his last words, left a command we should all standby the palefaced stranger, her father, and protect him and his againstevery enemy, as long as they remained in the Chaco. Strange protectionwe've given him! Instead, help to the man who has been his murderer!And now returning home, with his daughter a captive! What will ourpeople think of all this? Some of them, I know, were as much the whiteman's friend almost as Naraguana himself. Besides, they won't like theold cacique's dying injunction having been thus disregarded. I tellyou, there'll be trouble when we get back."
"No fear. Our young chief is too popular and powerful. He'll not findany one to oppose his will; which, as I take it, is to make this littlepaleface his wife, and our queen. Well, I can't help envying him; she'ssuch a sweet thing. But won't the Tovas maidens go mad with jealousy!I know one--that's Nacena--"
The dialogue is interrupted by a shout heard from one who rides near thefront of the troop. It is a cry as of alarm, and is so understood byall; at the same time all comprehending that the cause is something seenafar off.
In an instant every individual of the party springs up from his sittingposture, and stands erect upon the back of his horse, gazing out overthe plain. The corpse alone lies still; the captive girl also keepingher seat, to all seeming heedless of what has startled them, and caringnot what new misfortune may be in store for her. Her cup of sorrow isalready full, and she recks not if it run over.