BEGINS WITH GAUCHO HOMES AND DOMESTIC CONCERNS; CONTINUES WITH TWO
FIGHTS, AND ENDS WITH A FRIEND AND A "PUZZLER."
That a hard ride and a thorough soaking do not interfere much with the
comfort of the young and healthy was proved that night in the Gaucho
camp by the intense devotion paid by Lawrence and Quashy to the ample
supper set before them, and by the profundity of their slumbers
thereafter.
True, the supper was not luxurious. It consisted of only one dish,--
roasted mare's flesh--and one beverage,--water; but, happily, the tastes
of our adventurers were simple.
The Gaucho hut in which they had found shelter was a very humble
dwelling built of mud. It contained only one room, in which the whole
family resided. Like other Gaucho huts--which are nearly all alike--it
was covered with long yellow grass, and bore so strong a resemblance to
the surrounding country, that, at a little distance, it might easily
have been mistaken for a hillock. The kitchen of the establishment was
a detached shed a few yards off. After sunset the hut was lighted by a
feeble lamp, made of bullock's tallow, which brought into strong relief
the bridles, spurs, bolas, and lassos which hung from bone pegs on the
walls. Other objects of interest were revealed by the primitive lamp.
In one corner a large dog lay sleeping. A naked negro child--a sort of
ebony cupid--lay asleep beside it, with its little head pillowed on the
dog's haunch. In another corner a hen was sitting on eggs, while its
companions, guarded by a noble cock, roosted on one of the rafters, and
several children, of ages ranging from four to sixteen, were seated or
standing about awaiting supper. Last, but not least in importance, a
Gaucho infant hung suspended from the rafters in a primitive cradle of
bullock's skin, the corners of which were drawn together by four strips
of hide. The place would have been insufferably close but for the
fortunate circumstance that a number of holes in the dilapidated roof
allowed free ventilation. They also allowed free entrance of rain in
bad weather, but--Gauchos are not particular!
Although indifferent as to appearances, those Gauchos of the Pampas--
many of whom are descendants of the "best" old families in Spain--retain
much of the manners of their forefathers, being hospitable and polite
not only to strangers but to each other.
When supper was ready the great iron spit on which the beef had been
roasted was brought in, and the point of it stuck into the dried mud
floor. The master of the hut then stepped forward with the air of a
hidalgo and offered Lawrence the skeleton of a horse's head to sit upon.
Quashy having been provided with a similar seat, the whole household
drew in their horse-heads, circled round the spit, and, drawing their
long knives, began supper. They meant business. Hunger was the sauce.
Water washed the viands down. There was little conversation, for large
mouthfuls were the order of the evening. Lawrence and his man acquitted
themselves creditably, and supper did not terminate till the roast was
gone. Then they all spread their beds on the floor and retired for the
night. Each covered his or her head with a poncho, or other garment--
nothing of the sleepers being left visible save their bare feet--after
which silence reigned around.
In summer, abodes of this kind are so animated with insect life that the
inhabitants usually prefer to sleep on the ground in front of their
dwellings, but in the present case the recent storm had rendered this
luxury for the time impossible.
Little cared Lawrence and his man for that. Where they lay down to
repose, there they remained without motion till daylight. Then the
magnificent cock overhead raised his voice, and proclaimed the advent of
a new day. Quashy sat up, split his face across, displayed his internal
throat, and rubbed his eyes. Immediately the cock descended on his
woolly head, flapped its wings, and crowed again. The people began to
stir, and Lawrence went out with Quashy to saddle their horses, being
anxious to follow in the trail of the troops without delay. A prolonged
search convinced them that their horses had either strayed or been
stolen, for they were nowhere to be found.
Returning to the hut, they observed that the Gauchos were exceedingly
busy round their corral, or enclosure for cattle.
"What can they be about?" said Lawrence, as they drew near.
"Killin' pigs, I t'ink."
"I think not; there seems too much excitement for that."
There certainly was a considerable noise of piggish voices, and the
Gauchos were galloping about in an unaccountable manner, but, as is
usually the case, a little investigation explained the seemingly
unaccountable. The men were engaged in driving some cattle into the
enclosure, and as these were more than half wild and self-willed, the
process entailed much energy of limb and noise. As to the porcine
yells, the whole of the almost superhuman skirling arose from one little
pig, which the ebony cupid before mentioned had lassoed by the hind leg.
Gaucho children--after being delivered from the cradle before described,
and after passing through the crawling period of infancy and attaining
to the dignity of the stagger--begin to copy their seniors. With lassos
and bolas made of twine, they practise on little birds, or on the dogs
and fowls of home. Our ebony cupid, though not indeed a Gaucho, but a
negro infant, partook of the Gaucho spirit, and, although little more
than four years of age, had succeeded in catching his first pig.
Violence seemed to have reached a white heat in the heart of that little
pig! Besides giving vent to intensified shrieking, it dragged its
captor along, in a state of blazing triumph, until it overturned him,
snapped the twine, and got away.
But cupid was not to be balked of his prey. With a staggering rush to
where several horses were standing ready bridled, he caught hold of the
tail of a meek-looking animal, and scrambled by means of that appendage
on to its back. Seizing the bridle, he uttered a wild though tiny
shout, and dashed away after the fugitive.
Whether he recaptured it or not Lawrence never found out, for at that
moment a subject of greater interest claimed his attention.
Besides the hut in which they had spent the night, there were several
other huts near the corral, and Lawrence now perceived that the place
was a sort of hamlet, surrounded by a small ditch by way of defence.
While our hero was glancing round him he observed that Quashy stopped
suddenly, and gazed at something in front of him as if transfixed with a
surprise which threw quite into the shade all his previous expressions
of astonishment, and convinced his master that he had not yet fathomed
half the depth of meaning that could be thrown into that sable
countenance. Quashy bent slightly forward, extended his arms, spread
out his ten fingers, opened his mouth, and tried to speak.
"S-S-Soo--!" he began, and gasped.
"S-Soo--Sooz'n!" he shouted.
Yes, there she stood, in the doorway of a hut, as black as life, and
with a glare of joyful surprise that was only surpassed by that of her
admirer.
A moment later they recovered. They rushed into each other's arms, and
their lips met.
Pistols and carbines! what a smack it was!
In his joy Quashy lifted Susan fairly off her feet and danced with her
until he was exhausted, then he set her down and danced round her.
Susan had recovered her composure by that time. Whether Quashy's mode
of treatment is characteristic of negroes of the Pampas we do not
pretend to say, but the girl stood there with a modestly pleased
expression of face, while Quashy continued to dance round her.
Susan's modesty and blackness were alike set off by her costume, which
consisted of a short white frock, while her simple adornments were a
pair of gold ear-rings and a necklace of red coral.
Alas for the fleeting nature of human joys! While Quashy was thus
evincing his delight at the unexpected recovery of his betrothed, a wild
shouting was heard, and several horsemen were seen flying over the
plains towards the huts at a speed and with an action that betokened
them the bearers of important news. They proved to be men of the
village who had encountered a large band of Indians on their way to
attack the place.
Instantly all the men of the hamlet, amounting perhaps to about fifty,
prepared for defence, placing the women and children in the huts for
safety. Of course Lawrence and his man would have volunteered their
services even if self-defence had not required that line of conduct.
We have said that the hamlet was surrounded by a shallow ditch. This
was backed by a hedge of prickly pears. Behind the hedge the men
dispersed themselves, armed with several rusty flint-lock guns, some old
swords, a few Indian spears, and other less warlike weapons.
Lawrence and Quashy took up a position at the entrance to the little
fortress, the opening of which was blocked by cactus-bushes. Their host
of the previous night stood beside them. Light though such defences
seemed, they were more effective than might have been supposed, for
Indian horses as a rule will not leap even a shallow ditch, and cannot
be made to burst through prickly pears, though, doubtless, there may be
some exceptions.
The defenders had not long to wait. Their preparations were barely
completed when horsemen were descried on the horizon, and in a very
brief space of time a band of above a hundred naked savages came
thundering down on them, uttering terrific screams or yells, and
brandishing long spears. They rode straight towards the opening in the
defences.
The chief Gaucho was evidently a man of courage, for although he knew
well that capture meant death--perhaps with torture--he stood firm
without blanching, his eyes fixed sternly on the approaching foe, and
his strong hands grasping the stock of a rusty old musket, the very look
of which might have caused anxiety to its handler.
"Now Quash," whispered Lawrence, "don't fire till I do--and keep cool."
"Yes, massa. I's cool as a lump o' hice."
The savage who led the assailants was a tall, powerful fellow on a
splendid horse. When within about sixty yards of the defences he
levelled his spear and made a tremendous rush as if resolved to bear
down all obstacles. The Gaucho chief--if we may so style him--presented
his musket and pulled the trigger. It missed fire!
"I'll try him with shot first," remarked Lawrence to Quashy, presenting
his double-barrelled gun.
At the distance of fifty yards or so the shot, when it entered the
savage leader, was well scattered, so that horse and man were peppered
all over. The latter dropped his lance and almost fell off, while the
former, getting on its hind-legs, executed a pirouette which brought its
tail to the rear and sent it charging wildly back upon its friends. The
second in command, receiving the other barrel, at even shorter range,
went through the same performance with greater impetuosity. At the same
moment the old musket was prevailed on to go off, and Quashy delivered
four pistol-shots in quick succession, with the result that several men
and horses were wounded, and the entire body of Indians turned and fled
in a state of frenzied surprise.
They soon pulled up, however, and held a momentary consultation out of
range. Then, being bold fellows, they charged again, but this time in
two bands, one of which attacked the place in rear.
As before, the band which attacked the front was vigorously repelled,
but in rear the defenders were less successful. How it was managed
Lawrence never found out, but he had barely succeeded in driving off the
foe in front, and was congratulating Quashy on his coolness, when he
found himself suddenly surrounded by yelling savages.
The Gaucho chief made a desperate fight towards his own hut, which he
gained and entered in safety. Lawrence and Quashy tried to follow, but
were too much pressed by numbers. Back to back they fought, and Quashy
used his sword with such agility and vigour that in a few seconds he
sent several Indians bleeding to the rear. Lawrence, despising the
weapons of civilised warfare, held his now empty gun in his left hand,
using it as a sort of shield, and brandished his favourite cudgel with
such effect that he quickly strewed the ground around him with
crown-cracked men. Unfortunately a stone struck him on the temple, and
he fell. Thus left unsupported, Quashy, after slicing the nose half off
a too ardent savage, was struck from behind, and also fell.
When our hero recovered consciousness, he found himself lying on the
ground, afflicted with a strange inability to move hand or foot, and
conscious, chiefly, of a splitting headache. Presently a voice beside
him whispered--
"Is you bery bad, massa?"
Lawrence turned his head with great difficulty and beheld his faithful
follower lying like himself on the ground, firmly bound to a stout spar
or pole. His own inability to move was at once explained, for he soon
perceived that he was in the same bound condition.
"D'you know what has happened, Quashy?"
"Ho yes, massa. De reptiles has took de place, an' tied you an' me to
sticks. What for I don' know, but I s'pose dey means to skin us alive,
or roast us, p'r'aps, to 'muse deir women an' child'n."
"More likely that they hope to have us ransomed," returned Lawrence,
with a shudder.
"What's ramsumd, massa?"
"Try to get our friends to give them money for us. Have they killed
many of the men--or got hold of the women and children?" asked Lawrence,
anxiously.
"Yes, dey's kill a few ob de men, but not many, for some hab got into de
huts, an' some into de corral, an' dey'll fight to de last. De savages
am holdin' a palaver jist now--see, dey's agwine to begin again. Screw
your head roun' to de right an' you see."
Lawrence obeyed, and saw the savages assembled on a knoll. After
driving the defenders into the huts, they had held a brief consultation,
and seemed on the eve of renewing the attack. Filled with deep anxiety
for the fate of the poor women and children, our hero made a desperate
struggle to snap his bonds.
"No use, massa," remarked Quashy. "I's tried dat till I nearly bu'sted.
Better lie still. P'r'aps dey forgit us."
Lawrence groaned. He felt so helpless, and consequently hopeless, that
he almost gave way to despair.
The spot where they had been flung down after their capture was so
covered with rank grass that they could not see far in any direction.
What they did see, however, aroused curiosity, if it did not inspire
hope, for the savages seemed suddenly to have changed their plans. They
were talking excitedly together on the knoll, and pointing eagerly
towards the horizon.
"Das funny, massa," remarked the negro.
"It is indeed. Perhaps they see some of their friends coming."
"Or inimies," suggested Quashy.
The latter was right. In a few minutes the Indians were seen to run
down to the defences of the place. Our unfortunates lost sight of them
in a few seconds, but they could hear the sound of horsemen approaching
at full gallop. In a few minutes they heard shouting; then the yells,
fearful cries, and imprecations of men in mortal combat. Soon after
that a savage passed the place where they lay, at full speed. Then
another and another. It became quickly evident that the defenders of
the place were getting the worst of it. At last there was a general
flight, and as the savages passed by, the new assailants appeared. It
was easy to see that they were composed of all classes, a band of
runaway soldiers and escaped convicts.
"Banditti!" exclaimed Lawrence, bitterly.
"Dey've got pris'ners. Look, massa."
Our poor hero looked, and his hearts nearly stood still with horror, for
he saw a horseman pass whose figure was strangely like to that of
Colonel Marchbanks. His arms were bound, and a villainous-looking man
led his horse. Immediately after another bandit-like fellow rode past
with a female form seated in front of him. Of course it could be no
other than Manuela, and in the agony of the moment Lawrence was about to
renew his frantic effort to burst his bonds, when a man on foot ran
close past him. Recognising him at once, Lawrence shouted--
"Ignacio!"
The old hunter, for it was he, stopped abruptly, and listened.
Another shout brought him to the side of our hero.
"Good luck!" exclaimed Ignacio, heartily.
"We have been bound by the scoundrels you are chasing," cried Lawrence,
quickly; "cut us free, good Ignacio."
The hunter drew his long knife and knelt with the apparent intention of
releasing them, but suddenly paused.
"No--better as you are," he muttered, hurriedly, "your friends are in
danger--"
"I know it," interrupted Lawrence, almost wild with anxiety and
surprise; "why not, then, release us?"
"There is no time to explain," said Ignacio, quickly, almost fiercely.
"Listen. I and others are secret enemies in this band of outlaws. When
you are free be silent, be wise. You will need all your manhood. You
must not know me--be silent--wise, but--"
The old hunter leaped up hastily, sheathed his knife and ran on, for at
the moment he saw a group of the bandits running towards him. Diverging
a little and hailing them, he drew them away from the spot where
Lawrence and his man still lay bound.
"Das a puzzler, massa," gasped Quashy, who had been rendered almost
speechless by surprise, "if de bu'stin'-power what's in my heart just
now would on'y go into my muscles, I'd snap dem ropes like Samson."
As the bursting-power referred to declined to go into the muscles of
either master or man, they were fain to lie still with as much patience
as they could assume, and await the course of events.