We emerged from the forest and entered the fields. All silent. No sign
or sound of a suspicion. The house still standing and safe.
"The guerillero must have been waiting for someone whom he expected by
the Medellin road. Ride on, Raoul!"
"Captain," said the man in a whisper, and halting at the end of the
_guardaraya_ (enclosure).
"Well?"
"Someone passed out at the other end."
"Some of the domestics, no doubt. You may ride on, and--never mind; I
will take the advance myself."
I brushed past, and kept up the guardaraya. In a few minutes we had
reached the lower end of the pond, where we halted. Here we dismounted;
and, leaving the men, Clayley and I stole cautiously forward. We could
see no one, though everything about the house looked as usual.
"Are they abed, think you?" asked Clayley.
"No, it is too early--perhaps below, at supper."
"Heaven send! we shall be most happy to join them. I am as hungry as a
wolf."
We approached the house. Still all silent.
"Where are the dogs?"
We entered.
"Strange!--no one stirring. Ha! the furniture gone!"
We passed into the porch in the rear, and approached the stairway.
"Let us go below--can you see any light?"
I stooped and looked down. I could neither hear nor see any signs of
life. I turned, and was gazing up at my friend in wonderment, when my
eye was attracted by a strange movement upon the low branches of the
olive-trees. The next moment a dozen forms dropped to the ground; and,
before we could draw sword or pistol, myself and comrade were bound hand
and foot and flung upon our backs.
At the same instant we heard a scuffle down by the pond. Two or three
shots were fired; and a few minutes after a crowd of men came up,
bringing with them Chane, Lincoln, and Raoul as prisoners.
We were all dragged out into the open ground in front of the rancho,
where our horses were also brought and picketed.
Here we lay upon our backs, a dozen guerilleros remaining to guard us.
The others went back among the olives, where we could hear them
laughing, talking, and yelling. We could see nothing of their
movements, as we were tightly bound, and as helpless as if under the
influence of nightmare.
As we lay, Lincoln was a little in front of me. I could perceive that
they had doubly bound him in consequence of the fierce resistance he had
made. He had killed one of the guerilleros. He was banded and strapped
all over, like a mummy, and he lay gnashing his teeth and foaming with
fury. Raoul and the Irishman appeared to take things more easily, or
rather more recklessly.
"I wonder if they are going to hang us to-night, or keep us till
morning? What do you think, Chane?" asked the Frenchman, laughing as he
spoke.
"Be the crass! they'll lose no time--ye may depind on that same.
There's not an ounce av tinder mercy in their black hearts; yez may
swear till that, from the way this eel-skin cuts."
"I wonder, Murt," said Raoul, speaking from sheer recklessness, "if
Saint Patrick couldn't help us a bit. You have him round your neck,
haven't you?"
"Be the powers, Rowl! though ye be only jokin', I've a good mind to thry
his holiness upon thim. I've got both him and the mother undher me
jacket, av I could only rache thim."
"Good!" cried the other. "Do!"
"It's aisy for ye to say `Do', when I can't budge so much as my little
finger."
"Never mind. I'll arrange that," answered Raoul. "_Hola, Senor_!"
shouted he to one of the guerilleros.
"_Quien_?" (Who?) said the man, approaching.
"_Usted su mismo_," (Yourself), replied Raoul.
"_Que cosa_?" (What is it?)
"This gentleman," said Raoul, still speaking in Spanish, and nodding
towards Chane, "has a pocket full of money."
A hint upon that head was sufficient; and the guerilleros, who,
strangely enough, seemed to have overlooked this part of their duty,
immediately commenced rifling our pockets, ripping them open with their
long knives. They were not a great deal the richer for their pains, our
joint purse yielding about twenty dollars. Upon Chane there was no
money found; and the man whom Raoul had deceived repaid the latter by a
curse and a couple of kicks.
The saint, however, turned up, attached to the Irishman's neck by a
leathern string; and along with him a small crucifix, and a pewter image
of the Virgin Mary.
This appeared to please the guerilleros; and one of them, bending over
the Irishman, slackened his fastenings a little--still, however, leaving
him bound.
"Thank yer honner," said Chane; "that's dacent of ye. That's what
Misther O'Connell wud call _amaylioration_. I'm a hape aysier now."
"_Mucho bueno_," said the man, nodding and laughing.
"Och, be my sowl, yes!--_mucho bueno_. But I'd have no objecshun if yer
honner wud make it _mucho bettero_. Couldn't ye just take a little turn
aff me wrist here?--it cuts like a rayzyer."
I could not restrain myself from laughing, in which Clayley and Raoul
joined me; and we formed a chorus that seemed to astonish our captors.
Lincoln alone preserved his sullenness. He had not spoken a word.
Little Jack had been placed upon the ground near the hunter. He was but
loosely tied, our captors not thinking it worth while to trouble
themselves about so diminutive a subject. I had noticed him wriggling
about, and using all his Indian craft to undo his fastenings; but he
appeared not to have succeeded, as he now lay perfectly still again.
While the guerilleros were occupied with Chane and his saints, I
observed the boy roll himself over and over, until he lay close up
against the hunter. One of the guerilleros, noticing this, picked Jack
up by the waistbelt, and, holding him at arm's length, shouted out:
"_Mira, camarados! qui briboncito_!" (Look, comrades! what a little
rascal!)
Amidst the laughing of the guerilleros, Jack was swung out, and fell in
a bed of shrubs and flowers, where we saw no more of him. As he was
bound, we concluded that he could not help himself, and was lying where
he had been thrown.
My attention was called away from this incident by an exclamation of
Chane.
"Och! blood, turf, and murther! If there isn't that Frinch scoundhrel
Dubrosc!"