CAUGHT IN AMBUSH.
The ladies had been driving on, quite unconscious of the neighborhood
of any danger, admiring the beauty of the scenery, and calling one
another's attention to the various objects of interest which from time
to time became visible. Thus engaged, they slowly ascended the incline
already spoken of, and began to enter the forest. They had not gone
far when the road took a sudden turn, and here a startling spectacle
burst upon their view.
The road on turning descended slightly into a hollow. On the right
arose a steep acclivity, covered with the dense forest. On the other
side the ground rose more gradually, and was covered over by a forest
much less dense. Some distance in front the road took another turn,
and was lost to view among the trees. About a hundred yards in front
of them a tree had been felled, and lay across the way, barring their
progress.
About twenty armed men stood before them close by the place where the
turn was. Among them was a man on horseback. To their amazement, it
was Girasole.
Before the ladies could recover from their astonishment two of the
armed men advanced, and the driver at once stopped the carriage.
Girasole then came forward.
"Miladi," said he, "I haf de honore of to invitar you to descend."
"Pray what is the meaning of this?" inquired Lady Dalrymple, with much
agitation.
"It means dat I war wrong. Dere are brigand on dis road."
Lady Dalrymple said not another word.
The Count approached, and politely offered his hand to assist the
ladies out, but they rejected it, and got out themselves. First Mrs.
Willoughby, then Ethel, then Lady Dalrymple, then Minnie. Three of the
ladies were white with utter horror, and looked around in sickening
fear upon the armed men; but Minnie showed not even the slightest
particle of fear.
"How horrid!" she exclaimed. "And now some one will come and save my
life again. It's _always_ the way. I'm sure _this_ isn't my fault,
Kitty darling."
Before her sister could say any thing Girasole approached.
"Pardon, mees," he said; "but I haf made dis recepzion for you. You
sall be well treat. Do not fear. I lay down my life."
"Villain!" cried Lady Dalrymple. "Arrest her at your peril. Remember
who she is. She has friends powerful enough to avenge her if you dare
to injure her."
"You arra mistake," said Girasole, politely. "Se is mine, not yours. I
am her best fren. Se is fiancée to me. I save her life--tell her my
love--make a proposezion. Se accept me. Se is my fiancée. I was oppose
by you. What else sall I do? I mus haf her. Se is mine. I am an
Italiano nobile, an' I love her. Dere is no harm for any. You mus see
dat I haf de right. But for me se would be dead."
Lady Dalrymple was not usually excitable, but now her whole nature was
aroused; her eyes flashed with indignation; her face turned red; she
gasped for breath, and fell to the ground. Ethel rushed to assist her,
and two of the maids came up. Lady Dalrymple lay senseless.
With Mrs. Willoughby the result was different. She burst into tears.
"Count Girasole," she cried, "oh, spare her! If you love her, spare
her. She is only a child. If we opposed you, it was not from any
objection to you; it was because she is such a child."
"You mistake," said the Count, shrugging his shoulders. "I love her
better than life. Se love me. It will make her happy. You come too.
You sall see se is happy. Come. Be my sistaire. It is love--"
Mrs. Willoughby burst into fresh tears at this, and flung her arms
around Minnie, and moaned and wept.
"Well, now, Kitty darling, I think it's horrid. You're _never_
satisfied. You're always finding fault. I'm sure if you don't like
Rufus K. Gunn, you--"
But Minnie's voice was interrupted by the sound of approaching wheels.
It was the carriage of the Baron and his friend. The Baron had feared
brigands, but he was certainly not expecting to come upon them so
suddenly. The brigands had been prepared, and as the carriage turned
it was suddenly stopped by the two carriages in front, and at once was
surrounded.
The Baron gave one lightning glance, and surveyed the whole situation.
He did not move, but his form was rigid, and every nerve was braced,
and his eyes gleamed fiercely. He saw it all--the crowd of women, the
calm face of Minnie, and the uncontrollable agitation of Mrs.
Willoughby.
"Well, by thunder!" he exclaimed.
Girasole rode up and called out:
"Surrender! You arra my prisoner."
"What! it's you, is it?" said the Baron; and he glared for a moment
with a vengeful look at Girasole.
"Descend," said Girasole. "You mus be bound."
"Bound? All right. Here, parson, you jump down, and let them tie your
hands."
The Baron stood up. The Reverend Saul stood up too. The Reverend Saul
began to step down very carefully. The brigands gathered around, most
of them being on the side on which the two were about to descend. The
Reverend Saul had just stepped to the ground. The Baron was just
preparing to follow. The brigands were impatient to secure them, when
suddenly, with a quick movement, the Baron gave a spring out of the
opposite side of the carriage, and leaped to the ground. The brigands
were taken completely by surprise, and before they could prepare to
follow him, he had sprung into the forest, and, with long bounds, was
rushing up the steep hill and out of sight.
One shot was fired after him, and that was the shot that Hawbury and
Dacres heard. Two men sprang after him with the hope of catching him.
In a few moments a loud cry was heard from the woods.
"MIN!"
Minnie heard it; a gleam of light flashed from her eyes, a smile of
triumph came over her lips.
"Wha-a-a-a-t?" she called in reply.
"Wa-a-a-a-a-a-it!" was the cry that came back--and this was the cry
that Hawbury and Dacres had heard.
"Sacr-r-r-r-r-r-remento!" growled Girasole.
"I'm sure _I_ don't know what he means by telling me that," said
Minnie. "How can _I_ wait if this horrid Italian won't let me? I'm
sure he might be more considerate."
Poor Mrs. Willoughby, who had for a moment been roused to hope by the
escape of the Baron, now fell again into despair, and wept and moaned
and clung to Minnie. Lady Dalrymple still lay senseless, in spite of
the efforts of Ethel and the maids. The occurrence had been more to
her than a mere encounter with brigands. It was the thought of her own
carelessness that overwhelmed her. In an instant the thought of the
Baron's warning and his solemn entreaties flashed across her memory.
She recollected how Hawbury had commended his friend, and how she had
turned from these to put her trust in the driver and Girasole, the
very men who had betrayed her. These were the thoughts that
overwhelmed her.
But now there arose once more the noise of rolling wheels, advancing
more swiftly than the last, accompanied by the lash of a whip and
shouts of a human voice. Girasole spoke to his men, and they moved up
nearer to the bend, and stood in readiness there.
What Hawbury's motive was it is not difficult to tell. He was not
armed, and therefore could not hope to do much; but he had in an
instant resolved to rush thus into the midst of the danger. First of
all he thought that a struggle might be going on between the drivers,
the other travelers, and the brigands; in which event his assistance
would be of great value. Though unarmed, he thought he might snatch or
wrest a weapon from some one of the enemy. In addition to this, he
wished to strike a blow to save the ladies from captivity, even if his
blow should be unavailing. Even if he had known how matters were, he
would probably have acted in precisely the same way. As for Dacres, he
had but one idea. He was sure it was some trick concocted by his wife
and the Italian, though why they should do so he did not stop, in his
mad mood, to inquire. A vague idea that a communication had passed
between them on the preceding evening with reference to this was now
in his mind, and his vengeful feeling was stimulated by this thought
to the utmost pitch of intensity.
Hawbury thus lashed his horses, and they flew along the road. After
the first cry and the shot that they had heard there was no further
noise. The stillness was mysterious. It showed Hawbury that the
struggle, if there had been any, was over. But the first idea still
remained both in his own mind and in that of Dacres. On they went, and
now they came to the turn in the road. Round this they whirled, and in
an instant the scene revealed itself.
Three carriages stopped; some drivers standing and staring
indifferently; a group of women crowding around a prostrate form that
lay in the road; a pale, beautiful girl, to whom a beautiful woman was
clinging passionately; a crowd of armed brigands with leveled pieces;
and immediately before them a horseman--the Italian, Girasole.
One glance showed all this. Hawbury could not distinguish any face
among the crowd of women that bent over Lady Dalrymple, and Ethel's
face was thus still unrevealed; but he saw Minnie and Mrs. Willoughby
and Girasole.
"What the devil's all this about?" asked Hawbury, haughtily, as his
horses stopped at the Baron's carriage.
"You are prisoners--" began Girasole.
But before he could say another word he was interrupted by a cry of
fury from Dacres, who, the moment that he had recognized him, sprang
to his feet, and with a long, keen knife in his hand, leaped from the
carriage into the midst of the brigands, striking right and left, and
endeavoring to force his way toward Girasole. In an instant Hawbury
was by his side. Two men fell beneath the fierce thrusts of Dacres's
knife, and Hawbury tore the rifle from a third. With the clubbed end
of this he began dealing blows right and left. The men fell back and
leveled their pieces. Dacres sprang forward, and was within three
steps of Girasole--his face full of ferocity, his eyes flashing, and
looking not so much like an English gentleman as one of the old
vikings in a Berserker rage. One more spring brought him closer to
Girasole. The Italian retreated. One of his men flung himself before
Dacres and tried to grapple with him. The next instant he fell with a
groan, stabbed to the heart. With a yell of rage the others rushed
upon Dacres; but the latter was now suddenly seized with a new idea.
Turning for an instant he held his assailants at bay; and then,
seizing the opportunity, sprang into the woods and ran. One or two
shots were fired, and then half a dozen men gave chase.
Meanwhile one or two shots had been fired at Hawbury, but, in the
confusion, they had not taken effect. Suddenly, as he stood with
uplifted rifle ready to strike, his enemies made a simultaneous rush
upon him. He was seized by a dozen strong arms. He struggled fiercely,
but his efforts were unavailing. The odds were too great. Before long
he was thrown to the ground on his face, and his arms bound behind
him. After this he was gagged.
The uproar of this fierce struggle had roused all the ladies, and they
turned their eyes in horror to where the two were fighting against
such odds. Ethel raised herself on her knees from beside Lady
Dalrymple, and caught sight of Hawbury. For a moment she remained
motionless; and then she saw the escape of Dacres, and Hawbury going
down in the grasp of his assailants. She gave a loud shriek and rushed
forward. But Girasole intercepted her.
"Go back," he said. "De milor is my prisoner. Back, or you will be
bound."
And at a gesture from him two of the men advanced to seize Ethel.
"Back!" he said, once more, in a stern voice. "You mus be tentif to
miladi."
Ethel shrank back.
The sound of that scream had struck on Hawbury's ears, but he did not
recognize it. If he thought of it at all, he supposed it was the
scream of common terror from one of the women. He was sore and bruised
and fast bound. He was held down also in such a way that he could not
see the party of ladies. The Baron's carriage intercepted the view,
for he had fallen behind this during the final struggle. After a
little time he was allowed to sit up, but still he could not see
beyond.
There was now some delay, and Girasole gave some orders to his men.
The ladies waited with fearful apprehensions. They listened eagerly to
hear if there might not be some sounds of approaching help. But no
such sounds came to gladden their hearts. Lady Dalrymple, also, still
lay senseless; and Ethel, full of the direst anxiety about Hawbury,
had to return to renew her efforts toward reviving her aunt.
Before long the brigands who had been in pursuit of the fugitives
returned to the road. They did not bring back either of them. A
dreadful question arose in the minds of the ladies as to the meaning
of this. Did it mean that the fugitives had escaped, or had been shot
down in the woods by their wrathful pursuers? It was impossible for
them to find out. Girasole went over to them and conversed with them
apart. The men all looked sullen; but whether that arose from
disappointed vengeance or gratified ferocity it was impossible for
them to discern.
[Illustration: THE MÊLÉE.]
The brigands now turned their attention to their own men. Two of these
had received bad but not dangerous wounds from the dagger of Dacres,
and the scowls of pain and rage which they threw upon Hawbury and the
other captives boded nothing but the most cruel fate to all of them.
Another, however, still lay there. It was the one who had intercepted
Dacres in his rush upon Girasole. He lay motionless in a pool of
blood. They turned him over. His white, rigid face, as it became
exposed to view, exhibited the unmistakable mark of death, and a gash
on his breast showed how his fate had met him.
The brigands uttered loud cries, and advanced toward Hawbury. He sat
regarding them with perfect indifference. They raised their rifles,
some clubbing them, others taking aim, swearing and gesticulating all
the time like maniacs.
Hawbury, however, did not move a muscle of his face, nor did he show
the slightest feeling of any kind. He was covered with dust, and his
clothes were torn and splashed with mud, and his hands were bound, and
his mouth was gagged; but he preserved a coolness that astonished his
enemies. Had it not been for this coolness his brains might have been
blown out--in which case this narrative would never have been written;
but there was something in his look which made the Italians pause,
gave Girasole time to interfere, and thus preserved my story from
ruin.
Girasole then came up and made his men stand back. They obeyed
sullenly.
Girasole removed the gag.
Then he stood and looked at Hawbury. Hawbury sat and returned his look
with his usual nonchalance, regarding the Italian with a cold, steady
stare, which produced upon the latter its usual maddening effect.
"Milor will be ver glad to hear," said he, with a mocking smile, "dat
de mees will be take good care to. Milor was attentif to de mees; but
de mees haf been fiancée to me, an' so I take dis occazione to mak her
mine. I sall love her, an' se sall love me. I haf save her life, an'
se haf been fiancée to me since den."
Now Girasole had chosen to say this to Hawbury from the conviction
that Hawbury was Minnie's lover, and that the statement of this would
inflict a pang upon the heart of his supposed rival which would
destroy his coolness. Thus he chose rather to strike at Hawbury's
jealousy than at his fear or at his pride.
But he was disappointed. Hawbury heard his statement with utter
indifference.
"Well," said he, "all I can say is that it seems to me to be a
devilish odd way of going to work about it."
"Aha!" said Girasole, fiercely. "You sall see. Se sall be mine. Aha!"
Hawbury made no reply, and Girasole, after a gesture of impatience,
walked off, baffled.
In a few minutes two men came up to Hawbury, and led him away to the
woods on the left.
[Illustration: "THEY SAW A RUINED HOUSE."]