by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN.
THE CAPTIVE RECAPTURED.
Impossible to describe the feelings of Caspar, when having recovered hisfeet after the tumble out of his _recado_, he finds that Shebotha hasgot away from him. It is some consolation to know that neither himselfnor his horse has received serious injury. Still not sufficient tosatisfy him, nor allay the wild exasperation burning within his breast,which seeks to vent itself in a string of maledictions pouredplenteously from his lips.
As the hag, however, has surely succeeded in getting off, and it wouldbe idle to attempt pursuing through the thick scrub, his anathemashurled after her are all in vain: and, at thought of this, he soonceases to pronounce them. For the reflection quick follows, that he andhis companions have now something else to think about--their own safety,doubly endangered by Shebotha's escape.
"_Mil demonios_!" is his last exclaim of the kind, after getting hishorse upright again and himself back into the saddle, "who'd havebelieved the old beldame had so much suppleness in her joints? But it'sno joking matter. Only to think of it! Everything looking so bright,and now Satan's luck once more back upon us--bad, if not worse, thanever! Well, we mustn't dilly-dally here. If there's still a chanceleft us, we'll have to look for it down below, by that big cotton tree."
Saying which, he again gives the rein to his horse, and continues thedescent of the hill, the others head and tail close after.
On reaching the said cotton tree, however, Gaspar changes his mind aboutthat spot being the best for their temporary abiding place. Since itsbeing arranged as a rendezvous with Nacena, the circumstances have sadlyaltered, and, on reflection, he deems it better, as do the others, tokeep on along the road towards the _tolderia_--at least for some littledistance. There can be no harm in that, nor danger of their goingastray. The path is a plain one, much trampled by horses and cattle,and, notwithstanding the darkness of the night, easily discernible. Iffortune so far favour them, that the captive will be coming that way,under the guidance of the Indian girl, the sooner these be met the morechance for all eventually getting safe off, rescuers as rescued.
So concluding, they make scarce a moment's halt by the _ceiba_; but,passing under its umbrageous branches, head their horses along the trailleading to the town.
At this moment were it daylight, or even a clear moonlight, one placedupon the brow of the hill fronting south-eastward, and looking down tothe level plain by its base, would behold two separate parties movingupon it, but in opposite directions, so that, if they continue toadvance, they must meet. One party is mounted, the other afoot; theformer being Gaspar and his two companions, while the latter is alsocomposed of three individuals--Nacena, Francesca, and Shebotha's slave.The two girls, going in a half-run, are side by side, and ahead of theman; who, less free of foot, has fallen behind them to a distance ofsome twenty or thirty paces. Nacena, who knows the way, guides theescaping captive, and has hold of her by the hand. They are now notmore than half-a-mile from the mounted party, coming the opposite way,and in a few minutes should meet it, if nothing prevent. Already withinhailing distance, they might hear one another's voices; but neitherbeing aware of this mutual proximity, all advance in silence--the trioon horseback proceeding at a slow pace for caution's sake, lest thetread of their animals should betray them.
But if their own be not heard afar, there are other hoofs making a noiseto disturb the stillness of the night. Just as the Indian girl haswhispered to her paleface _protegee_ some words of cheer, saying thather friends are now no great way off, she is startled by the hoof-strokeof a horse, which her practised ear tells her to be ridden; while therapid repetition of the sound denotes the animal going in a gallop.
Suddenly she stops, and listens. Clearer rings the "tramp--tramp," asnearer the horseman approaches. Coming up behind, from the direction ofthe town, who can it be but one in pursuit of them? And if a pursuer,what other than Aguara?
Still Nacena is in doubt, and deems it strange. As they stole away fromShebotha's hut, and through the straggling suburb of the _tolderia_, allwas darkness and silence, everybody seeming asleep. Who or what couldhave awakened the _cacique_, and apprised him of the flight of hiscaptive?
In asking herself these questions, Kaolin's sister is under the belief,that the sorceress is herself still a prisoner, in the keeping of thatstalwart and redoubtable gaucho. Hence her surprise at their beingpursued, with the uncertainty that they are so, and the further doubt ofthe pursuer being Aguara.
He it is, notwithstanding; and as yet pursuing alone. For although sooncan be heard the hoof-strokes of other horses than his also following,these are faint and far-off. He himself hears them; knows it is a partyof his young braves pressing on after, but will not wait for them tocome up. For he hopes to overtake the fugitives, ere they can reach theplace of rendezvous Shebotha has spoken of, and recover his captivebefore she can fling herself into the arms of protecting friends.
In this hope, alas! he is not disappointed. Dashing on through thedarkness along a road with every foot of which both he and his horse arefamiliar, he first comes up with the half-witted creature laggingbehind, soon as beside him putting the question--
"Where is the paleface, your prisoner?"
The man, frightened at seeing it is the _cacique_, in his confusionhesitates to make reply. But Aguara does not wait for it. He hearsvoices ahead--soft and sweet, though raised in tones of alarm--and knowsshe must be there. Giving his horse's head a wrench, so as to shaveclose past the delinquent jailer, he raises his _macana_, and dealing adownward blow, strikes the latter to the earth: then hastens on afterthe others.
Nacena now knows for certain that they are pursued, as also who is thepursuer. She has heard the question asked by Aguara, recognising hisvoice; heard also the dull thud of his club as it descended on the skullof the unfortunate man; and now again hears the trampling of hoofsrenewed and drawing nearer. She has still hold of Francesca's hand, andfor a moment debates within herself what is best to be done, and whethershe should not release it, and turning show front to the pursuer.
Too late for that, or aught else likely to be of service either toherself or _protegee_. Before any resolve reaches her the _cacique_, isby their side; and flinging himself from his horse, grasps both by thewrists, wrenching asunder their joined hands. Then turning upon theIndian girl with a cry of rage--a curse in the Tovas tongue--he strikesher with his shut fist, inflicting a blow which sends her reeling to theearth. Before she can regain her feet he is once more upon his horse,and heading back for the _tolderia_--his recovered captive in his arms!