I entered into all his raptures. She was faultless in every

point,--save, perhaps, that in looking at you she would throw her eye

backwards, and show a little bit too much of the white. I remarked this

to the ostler.

"The only fault she has," said he, shaking his head; "she mistrusts a

body always, and so she's eternally a lookin' back, and a gatherin' up

her quarters, and a holdin' of her tail tight in; but for that, she's

a downright regular beauty, and for stride and bottom there ain't her

equal nowhere."

"Her late master was unlucky, I've heard," said I, insinuatingly.

"He was so far unlucky that he could n't sit his beast over a torrent

and a down leap. He would hold her in, and she won't bear it at a

spring, and so she flung him before she took the leap; and when _she_

lit, 't other side, with her head high and her hind legs under her, _he_

was a sittin' with his 'n under his arm, and his neck bruck,--that was

the way o' it. See now, master, if ever ye do want a great streak out

of her, leave the head free a bit, press her wi' your calves, and give a

right down reg'lar halloo,--ha! like a Mexican chap; then she'll do it!"

The ostler found me a willing listener, either when dwelling on the

animal's perfections, or suggesting hints for her future management; and

when at last both these themes were tolerably exhausted, he proceeded to

show me the horse-gear of saddle, and bridle, and halter, and holsters,

all handsomely finished in Mexican taste, and studded with brass nails

in various gay devices. At last he produced the rifle,--a regular

Kentucky one, of Colt's making,--and what he considered a still greater

prize, a bell-mouthed thing half horse-pistol, half blunderbuss, which

he called "a almighty fine 'Harper's Ferry tool,' that would throw

thirty bullets through an oak panel two inches thick."

It was evident that he looked upon the whole equipment as worthy of the

most exalted possession, and he gazed on me as one whose lot was indeed

to be envied.

"Seth and the others leave this to-morrow a'ternoon," said he; "but if

ye be a-goin' to Austin, where the 'Spedeshin' puts up, take my advice,

and get away before 'em. You 've a fine road,--no trouble to find the

way; your beast will carry you forty, fifty, if you want it, sixty,

miles between sunrise and 'down;' and you 'll be snug over the journey

before they reach Killian's Mill, the half-way. An' if ye want to know

why I say so, it's just because that's too good a beast to tempt a

tramper wi', and them's all trampers!"

I gave the ostler a dollar for all his information and civility, and

re-entered the inn to have my supper. The cap'n had already returned

home, and after verifying my ticket, took my receipt for the mare, which

I gave in all form, writing my name, "Con Cregan," as though it were to

a check for a thousand pounds.

I supped comfortably, and then walked out to the stable to see Charcoal.

"Get her corn; you'll see if she don't, eat it in less than winkin',"

said the ostler; "and if she wor my beast, she'd never taste another

feed till she had her nose in the manger at Croft's Gulley."

"And where is Croft's Gulley?"

"It's the bottoms after you pass the larch wood; the road dips a bit,

and is heavy there, and it's a good baitin' place, just eighteen miles

from here."

"On the road to Austin?"

He nodded. "Ye see," he said, "the moon's a risin'; there's no one out

this time. Ye know what I said afore."

"I'll take the advice, then. Get the traps ready; I'll pack the

saddle-bags and set out."

If any one had asked me why I was in such haste to reach Austin, my

answer would have been, "To join the expedition;" and if interrogated,

"With what object then?" I should have been utterly dumbfoundered.

Little as I knew of its intentions, they must all have been above the

range of my ability and means to participate in. True, I had a horse

and a rifle; but there was the end of my worldly possessions, not to say

that my title, even to these, admitted of litigation. A kind of vague

notion possessed me that, once up with the expedition, I should find

my place "somewhere,"--a very Irish idea of a responsible situation. I

trusted to the "making myself generally useful" category for employment,

and to a ready-wittedness never cramped nor restrained by the petty

prejudices of a conscience.

The love of enterprise and adventure is conspicuous among the springs of

action in Irish life, occasionally developing a Wellesley or a Captain

Rock. Peninsular glories and predial outrage have just the same one

origin,--a love of distinction, and a craving desire for the enjoyment

of that most fascinating of all excitements,--whatever perils life.

Without this element, pleasure soon palls; without the cracked skulls

and fractured "femurs," fox-hunting would be mere galloping; a review

might vie with a battle, if they fire blank cartridge in both! Who 'd

climb the Peter Bot, or cross the "petit mulets" of Mont Blanc, if it

were not that a false step or a totter would send him down a thousand

fathoms into the deep gorge below. This playing hide-and-seek with Death

seems to have a great charm, and is very possibly the attraction some

folks feel in playing invalid, and passing their lives amid black

draughts and blue lotions!

I shrewdly suspect this luxury of tempting peril distinguishes man from

the whole of the other animal creation; and if we were to examine it

a little, we should see that it opens the way to many of his highest

aspirings and most noble enterprises. Now, let not the gentle reader

ask, "Does Mr. Cregan include horse-stealing in the list of these

heroic darings?" Believe me, he does not; he rather regarded the act of

appropriation in the present case in the light some noble lords did when

voting away church property,--"a hard necessity, but preferable to being

mulct oneself!" With many a thought like this, I rode out into the now

silent town, and took my way towards Austin.

It is a strange thing to find oneself in a foreign land, thousands of

miles from home, alone, and at night; the sense of isolation is almost

overwhelming. So long as daylight lasts, the stir of the busy world and

the business of life ward off these thoughts,--the novelty of the scene

even combats them; but when night has closed in, and we see above us

the stars that we have known in other lands, the self-same moon by whose

light we wandered years ago, and then look around and mark the features

of a new world, with objects which tell of another hemisphere; and then

think that we are there alone, without tie or link to all around us, the

sensation is thrilling in its intensity.

Every one of us--the least imaginative, even--will associate the

strangeness of a foreign scene with something of that adventure of which

he has read in his childhood; and we people vacancy, as we go, with

images to suit the spot in our own country. The little pathway along

the river side suggests the lovers' walk at sunset as surely as the dark

grove speaks of a woodman's hut or a gypsy camp. But abroad, the scene

evokes different dwellers: the Sierra suggests the brigand; the thick

jungle, the jaguar or the rattlesnake; the heavy plash in the muddy

river is the sound of the cayman; and the dull roar, like wind within a

cavern, is the cry of the hungry lion. The presence around us of objects

of which we have read long ago, but never expected to see, is highly

exciting; it is like taking our place among the characters of a story,

and investing us with an interest to ourselves, as the hero of some

unwrought history.

This is the most fascinating of all castle-building, since we have a

spot for an edifice,--a territory actually given to us.

I thought long upon this theme, and wondered to what I was yet

destined,--whether to some condition of real eminence, or to move on

among that vulgar herd who are the spectators of life, but never its

conspicuous actors. I really believe this ignoble course was more

distasteful to me from its flatness and insipidity than from its

mere humility. It seemed so devoid of all interest, so tame and so

monotonous, I would have chosen peril and vicissitude any day in

preference. About midnight I reached Croft's Gulley, where, after

knocking for some time, a very sulky old negro admitted me into a stable

while I baited my mare. The house was shut up for the night; and even

had I sought refreshment, I could not have obtained it.

After a brief halt, I again resumed the road, which led through a close

pine forest, and, however much praised, was anything but a good surface

to travel on. Charcoal, however, made light of such difficulties, and

picked her steps over holes and stumps with the caution of a trapper,

detecting with a rare instinct the safe ground, and never venturing on

spots where any difficulty or danger existed. I left her to herself, and

it was curious to see that whenever a short interval of better footway

intervened, she would, as if to "make play," as the jockeys call it,

strike out in a long swinging canter, "pulling up" to the walk the

moment the uneven surface admonished her to caution.

As day broke, the road improved so that I was able to push along at a

better pace, and by breakfast-time I found myself at a low, poor-looking

log-house called "Brazos." A picture representing Texas as a young child

receiving some admirable counsel from a very matronly lady with thirteen

stars on her petticoat, flaunted over the door, with the motto, "Filial

Affection, and Candy Flip at all hours."

A large, dull-eyed man, in a flannel pea-jacket and loose trousers to

match, was seated in a rocking-chair at the door, smoking an enormous

cigar, a little charmed circle of expectoration seeming to defend him

from the assaults of the vulgar. A huge can of cider stood beside him,

and a piece of Indian corn bread. He eyed me with the coolest unconcern

as I dismounted, nor did he show the slightest sign of welcome.

"This is an inn, I believe, friend?" said I, saluting him.

"I take it to be a hotel," said he, in a voice very like a yawn.

"And the landlord, where is he?"

"Where he ought to be,--at his own door, a smokin' his own rearin'."

"Is there an ostler to be found? I want to refresh my horse, and get

some breakfast for myself too."

"There an't none."

"No help?"

"Never was."

"That's singular, I fancy."

"No, it an't."

"Why, what do travellers do with their cattle, then?"

"There bean't none."

"No cattle?"

"No travellers."

"No travellers! and this the high road between two considerable towns!"

"It an't."

"Why, surely this is the road to Austin?"

"It an't."

"Then this is not Brazos?"

"It be Upper Brazos."

"There are two of them, then; and the other, I suppose, is on the Austin

road?"

He nodded.

"What a piece of business!" sighed I; "and how far have I come astray?"

"A good bit."

"A mile or two?"

"Twenty."

"Will you be kind enough to be a little more communicative, and just say

where this road leads to; if I can join the Austin road without turning

back again; and where?"

Had I propounded any one of these queries, it is just possible I might

have had an answer; but, in my zeal, I outwitted myself. I drew my

check for too large an amount, and consequently was refused payment

altogether.

"Well," said I, after a long and vain wait for an answer, "what am I to

do with my horse? There is a stable, I hope?"

"There an't," said he, with a grunt.

"So that I can't bait my beast?"

"No!"

"Bad enough! Can I have something to eat myself,--a cup of coffee--?"

A rude burst of laughter stopped me, and the flannel man actually

shook with the drollery of his own thoughts. "It bean't Astor House, I

reckon!" said he, wiping his eyes.

"Not very like it, certainly," said I, smiling.

"What o' that? Who says it ought to be like it?" said he, and his fishy

eyes flared up, and his yellow cheeks grew orange with anger. "I an't

very like old Hickory, I s'pose! and maybe I don't want to be! I'm a

free Texan! I an't a nigger nor a blue-nose! I an't one of your old

country slaves, that black King George's boots, and ask leave to pay his

taxes! I an't."

"And I," said I, assuming an imitation of his tone, for experiment's

sake, "I am no lazy, rocking-chair, whittling, tobacco-chewing Texan!

but a traveller, able and willing to pay for his accommodation, and who

will have it, too!"

"Will ye? Will ye, then?" cried he, springing up with an agility I could

not have believed possible; while, rushing into the hut, he reappeared

with a long Kentucky rifle, and a bayonet a-top of it. "Ye han't long to

seek yer man, if ye want a flash of powder! Come out into the bush and

'see it out,' I say!"

The tone of this challenge was too insulting not to call for at least

the semblance of acceptance; and so, fastening my mare to a huge staple

beside the door, I unslung my rifle, and cried, "Come along, my friend;

I'm quite ready for you!"

Nothing daunted at my apparent willingness, he threw back the hammer of

his lock, and said, "Hark ye, young un! You can't give me a cap or two?

Mine are considerable rusty!"

The request was rather singular, but its oddity was its success; and so,

opening a small case in the stock of my rifle, I gave him some.

"Ah, them 's real chaps,--the true 'tin jackets,' as we used to say at

St. Louis!" cried he, his tongue seeming wonderfully loosened by the

theme. "Now, lad, let's see if one of your bullets fit this bore; she's

a heavy one, and carries twenty to the pound; and I 've nothing in her

now but some loose chips of iron for the bears."

Loose chips of iron for the bears! thought I; did ever mortal hear such

a barbarian! "You don't fancy, friend, I came here to supply you with

lead and powder, to be used upon myself, too! I supposed, when you asked

me to come out into the bush, that you had everything a gentleman ought

to have for such a purpose."

"Well, I never seed the like of that!" exclaimed he, striking the

ground with the butt end of his piece. "If we don't stand at four guns'

length--"

"We 'll do no such thing, friend," said I, shouldering my piece, and

advancing towards him. "I never meant to offend _you_; nor have you any

object in wounding, mayhap killing, _me_. Let me have something to eat;

I 'll pay for it freely, and go my ways."

"What on airth is it, eh?" said he, looking puzzled. "Why, that's one of

Colt's rifles! you'd have picked me down at two hundred yards, sure as

my name is Gabriel."

"I know it," said I, coolly; "and how much the better or the happier

should I have been, had I done so?" I watched the fellow's pasty

countenance as though I could read what passed in the muddy bottom of

his mind.

"If it were not for something of this kind," added I, sorrowfully, "I

should not be here to-day. You know New Orleans?" He nodded. "Well,

perhaps you know Ebenezer York?"

"The senator?"

"The same!" I made the pantomime of presenting a pistol, and then of a

man falling. "Just so. His brothers have taken up the pursuit, and so I

came down into this quarter till the smoke cleared off!"

"He was a plumper at a hundred and twenty yards. I seen him double up

Gideon Millis, of Ohio."

"Ah, I could recount many a thing of the kind to you," said I, leading

the way towards the hut, "but my throat is so dry, and I feel so

confoundedly weary just now--"

"That's cider," said he, pointing to the crock.

I did n't wait for a more formal invitation, but carried it to my lips,

and so held it for full a couple of minutes.

"Ye _wor_ drouthy,--that's a fact!" said he, peering into the low

watermark of the vessel.

"You hav'n't got any more bread?" said I, appropriating his own.

"If I had n't, ye 'd not have got that so easy, lad!" said he, with a

grin.

"And now for my mare; you see she's a good one--"

"Good as if she belonged to a richer master!" said he, with a peculiar

leer of the eye. "I know her well! knowed her a foal! Ah, Charry, Miss!

do you forget the way to take off your saddle with your teeth?" and he

patted the creature with a nearer approach to kindness than I believed

he was capable of.

I will not dwell upon the little arts I employed to conciliate my friend

Gabriel, nor stop to say how I managed to procure some Indian corn-meal

for my horse, and the addition of a very tough piece of dried beef to my

own meagre breakfast. I conclude the reader will be as eager to escape

from his society as I was myself; nor had I ever thrown him into such

unprofitable acquaintanceship, were there other means of explaining

how first I wandered from the right path, and by what persuasions I was

influenced in not returning to it.

If Gabriel's history was not very entertaining, it was at least short,

so far as its catastrophe went. He was a Kentucky "bounty man," who had

taken into his head to fight a duel with a companion with whom he was

returning from New York. He killed his antagonist, buried him, and

was wending his way homeward with the watch and other property of the

deceased, to restore to his friends, when he was arrested at Little

Rock, and conveyed to jail. He was tried, found guilty, and sentenced

to death, but made his escape the night before the execution was to have

taken place. His adventures from the Arkansas River till the time he

found himself in Texas were exciting in a high degree, and, even with

his own telling, not devoid of deep interest. Since his location in the

One-star Republic, he had tried various things, but all had failed

with him. His family, who followed him, died off by the dreadful

intermittents of the bush, leaving him alone to doze through the

remainder of existence between the half-consciousness of his fall and

the stupid insensibility of debauch. There was but one theme could

stir the dark embers of his nature; and when he had quitted _that_, the

interest of life seemed to have passed away, and he relapsed into his

dreamy indifference to both present and future.

How he contrived to eke out subsistence was difficult to conceive.

To the tavern he had been almost the only customer, and in succession

consumed the little stores his poor wife had managed to accumulate. He

appeared to feel a kind of semi-consciousness that if "bears did not

fall in his way" during the winter, it might go hard with him; and he

pointed to four mounds of earth behind the log-hut, and said that "the

biggest would soon be alongside of 'em."

As the heat of midday was too great to proceed in, I learned from him

thus much of his own story, and some particulars of the road to Bexar,

whither I had now resolved on proceeding, since, according to his

opinion, that afforded me a far better chance of coming up with the

expedition than by following their steps to Austin.

"Had you come a few hours earlier to-day," said he, "you could have

joined company with a Friar who is travelling to Bexar; but you 'll

easily overtake him, as he travels with a little wagon and a sick woman.

They are making a pilgrimage to the saints there for her health. They

have two lazy mules and a half-breed driver that won't work miracles on

the roads, whatever the Virgin may after! You'll soon come up with them,

if Charry's like what she used to be."

This intelligence was far from displeasing to me. I longed for some

companionship; and that of a Friar, if not very promising as to

amusement, had at least the merit of safety,--no small charm in such a

land as I then sojourned in. I learned besides that he was an Irishman

who had come out as a missionary among the Choctaws, and that he was

well versed in prairie life; that he spoke many of the Indian dialects,

and knew the various trails of these pathless wilds like any trapper of

them all.

Such a fellow-traveller would be indeed a prize; and as I saddled my

mare to follow him, I felt lighter at heart than I had done for a long

time previous. "And his name?" said I.

"It is half-Mexican by this. They call him Fra Miguel up at Bexar."

"Now then for Fra Miguel!" cried I, springing into my saddle; and with a

frank "Good-bye," took the road to Bexar.

I rode along with a light heart, my way leading through a forest of

tall beech and alder trees, whose stems were encircled by the twining

tendrils of the "Liana," which oftentimes spanned the space overhead,

and tempered the noonday sun by its delicious shade. Birds of gay

plumage and strange note hopped from branch to branch, while hares and

rabbits sat boldly on the grassy road, and scarcely cared to move at

my approach. The crimson-winged bustard, the swallow-tailed woodpecker,

with his snowy breast, and that most beautiful of all, the lazuli finch,

whose color would shame the blue waters of the Adriatic, chirped and

fluttered on every side. The wild squirrel, too, swung by his tail, and

jerked himself from bough to bough, in all the confidence of unmolested

liberty; while even the deer, timid without danger, stood and gazed at

me as I went, doubtless congratulating themselves that they were not

born to be beasts of burden.

There was so much novelty to me in all around that the monotonous

character of the scene never wearied; for, although as far as human

companionship was concerned, nothing could be more utterly solitary and

desolate, yet the abundance of animal life, the bright tints of plumage,

and the strange concert of sound, afforded an unceasing interest.

Occasionally I came upon the charred fragments of firewood, with other

signs indicative of a bivouac, showing where some hunting-party had

halted; but these, with a chance wheel-track, were all the evidence that

travellers had ever passed that way. The instincts of the human heart

are, after all, linked to companionship, and although it was but a few

hours since I had parted with "mine host" of Brazos, I began to conceive

a most anxious desire for the society of a fellow-traveller. I had

pushed Charcoal for some time, in the hope of overtaking the Friar; but

not only without success, but even without coming upon any recent tracks

that should show where the party passed. I could not have mistaken the

road, since there was but one through the forest; and at last I became

uneasy lest I should not reach some place of shelter for the night, and

obtain refreshment for myself and my horse. From the time that these

thoughts crossed my mind, all relish for the scene and its strange

associations departed. A scarlet jay might have perched upon my

saddle-bow unmolested; a "whip-poor-will" might have chanted her note

from my hat or my holsters unminded; the antlered stags did indeed graze

me as they went, without my once remembering that I was the owner of

one of "Colt's sharp bores," so intent I had grown upon the topic of

personal safety. What if I had gone astray? What if I fell in with the

Choctaws, who often came within a few miles of Austin? What if Charcoal

fell lame, or even tired? What if--But why enumerate all the suspicions

that, when chased away on one side, invariably came back on the other?

There was not an incident, from a sprained ankle to actual starvation,

that I did not rehearse; and, like that respected authority who spent

his days speculating what he should do "if he met a white bear," I threw

myself into so many critical situations and embarrassing conjectures

that my head ached with overtaxed ingenuity to escape from them.

Æsop's fables have much to answer for. The attributing the gift of

speech to animals, by way of characterizing their generic qualities,

takes a wondrous hold upon the mind; and as for me, I held "imaginary

conversations" with everything that flew or bounded past. From the green

lizard that scaled the shining cork-trees, to the lazy toad that flopped

heavily into the water, I had a word for all,--ay, and thought they

answered me, too.

Some, I fancied, chirped pleasantly and merrily, as though to say, "Go

it, Con, my hearty; Charry has stride and wind for many a mile yet!"

Some, with a wild scream, would seem to utter a cry of surprise at the

pace, as if saying, "Ruffle my feathers if Con 's not in a hurry!" An

old owl, with a horseshoe wig, looked shocked at my impetuosity, and

shook his wise head in grave rebuke; while a fat asthmatic frog nearly

choked with emotion as I hurled the small pebbles into his bath of

duck-weed. How strange would life be, reduced to such companionship!

thought I. Would one gradually sink down to the level of this animal

existence, such as it appears now, or would one elevate the inferior

animal to some equality of intelligence?

The solitude which a short time previous had suggested--I know not

now many!--bright imaginings, presented now the one sad, unvarying

reflection,--desolation; and it had almost become a doubtful point

whether I should not at once turn my horse's head and make for Upper

Brazos and its gruff host of the log-house, rather than brave a night

"al fresco" in the forest. It was just at the moment that this question

became mooted in my mind that I perceived the faint track of a wheel on

the short grass of the pathway. I dismounted and examined it closely,

and soon discovered its counterpart on the other side of the road; and

with a little further search I could detect the footmarks of two horses,

evidently unshod.

Inspired with fresh courage by these signs, I spurred Charry to a

sharper stride, and for above two hours rode on, each turning of the

road suggesting the hope of coming up with the Friar, who evidently

journeyed at a brisker pace than I had anticipated. The sailor's adage

says that "A stern chase is a long chase;" and so it is, whether it be

on land or sea,--whether the pursuit be to overtake a flying Frenchman

or Fortune!

The sun had sunk beneath the tops of the tall trees, and only streamed

through, in chance lines of light, upon the road, when suddenly I found

myself upon the verge of an abrupt descent, at the bottom of which ran

a narrow but rapid river. These great fissures, by which the mountain

streams descend to join the larger rivers, are very common in Texas and

throughout the region which borders on the Rocky Mountains, and form one

of the greatest impediments to travelling in these tracts.

As I gazed upon the steep descent, to have scrambled down which, even on

foot, would have been dangerous and difficult enough, I remembered that

I had passed, about half an hour before, a spot where the road "forked"

off into two separate directions, and at once resumed my march to this

place, where I had the satisfaction of perceiving that the grass was

yet rising under the recent passage of a wagon. A short and sharp canter

down a gentle slope brought me once more in sight of the stream and

of what was far nearer to my hopes, the long looked-for party with the

Friar.

The scene I now beheld was sufficiently striking for a picture. About

fifty feet beneath where I stood, and on the bank of a boiling, foaming

torrent, was a wagon, drawn by two large horses; a covering of canvas

formed an awning overhead, and curtains of the same material closed the

sides. A large, powerful-looking Mexican stood beating the stream with a

great pole, while the Friar, with his robes tucked up so as to display

a pair of enormous naked legs, assisted in this singular act of

flagellation, from time to time addressing a hasty prayer to a small

image which I perceived he had hung up against the canvas covering.

The noise of the rushing water and the crashing sound of the sticks

prevented my hearing the voices, which were most volubly exerted all the

while, and which, by accustoming myself to the din, I at last perceived

were used in exhorting the horses to courage. The animals, however, gave

no token of returning confidence, nor showed the slightest inclination

to advance. On the contrary, whenever led forward a pace or two, they

invariably sprang back with a bound that threatened to smash their

tackle or upset the wagon; nor was it without much caressing and

encouragement that they would stand quiet again. Meanwhile, the Friar's

exertions were redoubled at every moment, and both his prayers and his

thrashings became more animated. Indeed, it was curious to watch with

what agility his bulky figure alternated from the work of beating the

water to gesticulating before "the Virgin." Now, as I looked, a small

corner of the canvas curtain was moved aside, and a hand appeared,

which, even without the large straw fan it carried, might have been

pronounced a female one. This, however, was speedily withdrawn on

some observation from the Friar, and the curtain was closed rigidly as

before.

All my conjectures as to this singular proceeding being in vain, I

resolved to join the party, towards whom I perceived the road led by a

slightly circuitous descent.

Cautiously wending my way down this slope, which grew steeper as I

advanced, I had scarcely reached the river side when I was perceived by

the party. Both the Friar and his follower ceased their performance on

the instant, and cast their eyes upwards to the road with a glance that

showed they were on "the look-out" for others. They even changed their

position, to have a better view of the path, and seemed as if unable

to persuade themselves that I could be alone. To my salutation, which

I made by courteously removing my hat and bowing low, they offered

no return, and looked--as I really believe they were--far too much

surprised at my sudden appearance to afford me any signs of welcome. As

I came nearer, I could see that the Friar made the circuit of the wagon,

and, as if casually, examined the curtains; and then, satisfied "that

all was right," took his station by the head of his beasts, and waited

for my approach.

"Good day, Señhor Caballero," said the Friar, in Spanish, while the

Mexican looked at the lock of his long-barrelled rifle, and retired a

couple of paces, with a gesture of guarded caution.

"Good evening, rather, Father," said I, in English. "I have ridden hard

to come up with you, for the last twenty miles."

"From the States?" said the Friar, approaching me, but with no peculiar

evidences of pleasure at hearing his native language.

"From your own country, Fra Miguel," said I, boldly--"an Irishman."

"And how are you travelling here?" said he, still preserving his

previous air of caution and reserve.

"A mistake of the road!" said I, confidently; for already I had invented

my last biographical sketch. "I was on the way to Austin, whither I had

despatched my servants and baggage, when accidentally taking the turn to

Upper Brazos instead of the lower one, I found myself some twenty miles

off my track before I knew of it. I should have turned back when I

discovered my error, but that I heard that a Friar, a countryman, too,

had just set out towards Bexar. This intelligence at once determined me

to continue my way, which I rejoice to find has been so far successful."

To judge from the "Padre's" face, the pleasure did not appear

reciprocal. He looked at me and the wagon alternately, and then he cast

his eyes towards the Mexican, who, understanding nothing of English, was

evidently holding himself ready for any measures of a hostile character.

"Going to Austin," at last said the Friar. "You are a merchant, then?"

"No," said I, smiling superciliously; "I am a mere traveller for

pleasure, my object being to make a tour of the prairies, and by some of

the Mexican cities, before my return to Europe."

"Heaven guide and protect you," said he, fervently, with a wave of

his hand like leave-taking. "This is not a land to wander in after

nightfall. You are well mounted, and a good rider; push on, then, my

son, and you 'll reach Bexar before the moon sets."

"If that be your road, Father," said I, "as speed is no object with me,

I 'd rather join company with you than proceed alone."

"Ahem!" said he, looking confused, "I am going to Bexar, it is true,

Señhor; but my journey is of the slowest: the wagon is heavy, and a sick

companion whom it contains cannot travel fast. Go, then, 'con Dios!' and

we may meet again at our journey's end."

"My mare has got quite enough of it," said I, my desire to remain with

him being trebled by his exertions to get rid of me. "When I overtook

you, I was determining to dismount and spare my beast; so that _your_

pace will not in the least inconvenience me."

The Padre, instead of replying to me, addressed some words to the

Mexican in Spanish, which, whatever they were, the other only answered

by a sharp slap of his palm on the stock of his rifle, and a very

significant glance at his girdle, where a large bowie-knife glittered

in all the freedom of its unsheathed splendor. As if not noticing this

pantomime, I drew forth my "Harper's Ferry pistol" from the holster, and

examined the priming,--a little bit of display I had the satisfaction

to perceive was not thrown away on either the Friar or the layman. At

a word from the former, however, the latter began once again his

operations with the pole, the Friar resuming his place beside the cattle

as if totally forgetful of my presence there.

"May I ask the object of this proceeding, Father?" said I, "which,

unless it be a 'devotional exercise,' is perfectly unaccountable to me."

The Padre looked at me without speaking; but the sly drollery of his eye

showed that he would have had no objection to bandy a jest with me, were

the time and place more fitting. "I perceive," said he, at length, "that

you have not journeyed in this land, or you would have known that at

this season the streams abound with caymans and alligators, and that

when the cattle have been once attacked by them, they have no courage to

cross a river after. Their instinct, however, teaches them that

beating the waters insures safety, and many a Mexican horse will not go

knee-deep without this ceremony being performed."

"I see that your cattle are unusually tired in the present case," said

I, "for you have been nigh half an hour here, to my own knowledge."

"Look at that black marc's fore-leg, and you ll see why," said he,

pointing to a deep gash, which laid bare the white tendons for some

inches in length, while a deep pool of blood flowed around the animal's

hoof.

A cry from the Mexican here broke in upon our colloquy, as, throwing

down his pole, he seized his rifle, and dropped upon one knee in the

attitude of defence.

"What is it, Sancho?" cried the Friar.

A few words of guttural followed, and the Padre said it was a large

alligator that had just carried off a chiguire--a wild pig--under the

water with him. This stream is a tributary of the Colloredo, along the

banks of which these creatures' eggs are found in thousands!

My blood ran cold at the horrid thought of being attacked by such

animals, and I readily volunteered my assistance at the single-stick

exercise of my companion.

The Friar accepted my offer without much graciousness, but rather as

that of an unwelcome guest who could not be easily got rid of.

END OF VOL. I.

CHAPTER XXI. A NIGHT IN THE FOREST OF TEXAS

The friar ceased his efforts, and, calling the Mexican to one side,

whispered something in a low, cautious manner. The other seemed to

demur and hesitate, but, after a brief space, appeared to yield; when,

replacing the poles beside the wagon, he turned the horses' heads

towards the road by which they had just come.

"We are about to try a ford some miles farther up the stream," said the

Padre, "and so we commend you to the Virgin, and wish you a prosperous

journey."

"All roads are alike to me, holy Father," said I, with a coolness that

cost me something to assume.

"Then take the shortest, and you'll be soonest at your journey's end,"

said he, gruffly.

"Who can say that?" rejoined I; "it's no difficult matter to lose one's

way in a dense forest, where the tracks are unknown."

"There is but one path, and it cannot be mistaken," said he, in the same

tone.

"It has one great disadvantage, Father," said I.

"What is that?"

"There is no companionship on it; and, to say truth, I have too much of

the Irishman in me to leave good company for the pleasure of travelling

all alone."

"Methinks you have very little of the Irishman about you, in another

respect," said he, with a sneer of no doubtful meaning.

"How so?" said I, eagerly.

"In volunteering your society when it is not sought for, young

gentleman," said he, with a look of steadfast effrontery,--"at least,

I can say, such were not the habits of the land as I remember it some

forty years ago."

"Ah, holy Father, it has grown out of many a barbarous custom since your

time: the people have given up drinking and faction-fighting, and you

may travel fifty miles a day for a week together and never meet with a

friar."

"Peace be with you!" said he, waving his hand, but with a gesture it was

easy to see boded more passion than patience.

I hesitated for a second what to do; and at last, feeling that another

word might perhaps endanger the victory I had won, I dashed spurs into

the mare's flanks, and, with the shout the ostler had recommended,

rushed her at the stream. Over she went, "like a bird," lighting on the

opposite bank with her hind-legs "well up," and the next moment plunged

into the forest.

Scarcely, however, had I proceeded fifty paces than I drew up. The dense

wood effectually shut out the river from my view, and even masked the

sounds of the rushing water. A suspicion dwelt on my mind that the Friar

was _not_ going back, and that he had merely concerted this plan with

the Mexican the easier to disembarrass himself of my company. The

seeming pertinacity of _his_ purpose suggested an equal obstinacy of

resistance on _my_ part. Some will doubtless say that it argued very

little pride and a very weak self-esteem in Con Cregan to continue to

impose his society where it had been so peremptorily declined; and

so had it been, doubtless, had the scene been a great city ruled and

regulated by its thousand-and-one conventionalities. But the prairies

are separated by something longer than mere miles from the land of

kid-gloves and visiting tickets. Ceremonial in such latitudes would be

as unsuitable as a court suit.

Besides, I argued thus: "A very underdone slice of tough venison, with

a draught of spring water, constitute in these regions a very appetizing

meal; and, for the same reason, a very morose friar and a still sulkier

servant may be accepted as very tolerable travelling companions. Enjoy

better when it can be had, Con, but prefer even the humblest fare to a

famine,"--a rule more applicable to mental food than to material.

In a little self-colloquy after this kind, I crept stealthily back,

leading Charry by the bridle, and halting at intervals to listen. What

a triumph to my skill in divination as I heard the Friar's loud voice

overtopping the gushing flood, while he exhorted his beasts in the most

energetic fashion!

I advanced cautiously till I gained a little clump of brushwood, from

which I could see the river and the group perfectly. The Friar had

now mounted the wagon, and held the reins; the Mexican was, however,

standing in the stream and leading the cattle, who appeared to have

regained somewhat more of their courage, and were slowly proceeding,

sniffing timidly as they went, and pawing the water fretfully.

The Mexican advanced boldly, till the water reached nigh the top of

his great _botas vaqueras_, immense boots of buffalo hide, which, it is

said, resist the bite of either cayman or serpent; and so far the

horses went, doubtless from the encouragement. As soon, however, as the

deepening flood warned the man to mount the wagon, they halted abruptly,

and stood pawing and splashing the stream, while their ears flattened

back, and their drawn-in tails evinced the terror that was on them.

Objurgations, entreaties, prayers, curses, menaces, were all in vain,--a

step farther they would not budge. All that the Spanish contained of

guttural was hurled at them without success; the cow-hide whip might

welt their flanks and leave great ridges at every stroke, the huge

pole of the Mexican might belabor them, with a running accompaniment of

kicks, but to no purpose. They cared as little for the cow-hide as the

"calendar;" neither saints nor thrashings could persuade them to move

on. Saint Anthony and Saint Ursula, Saint Forimund of Cordova, with

various others, were invoked, to no end. Saint Clement of Capua, to whom

all poisonous reptiles, from boas to whip-snakes, owe allegiance, was

called upon to aid the travellers; but the quadrupeds took no heed of

these entreaties, but showed a most Protestant contempt for the whole

litany.

There was a pause; wearied with flogging, and tired out with vain

exhortations, both Friar and Mexican, ceased, and as if in compensation

to their long pent-up feelings, vented their anger in a very guttural

round of maledictions upon the whole animal creation, and in particular

on that part of it who would not be eaten by alligators without signs

of resistance and opposition. Whether this new turn of events had any

influence, or that the matter was more owing to "natural causes," I

cannot say; but, just then, the horse which had been already bitten,

reared straight up, and with a loud snort plunged forward, carrying with

him the other. By his plunge he had reached a deep part of the stream,

where the water came half way up his body. Another spring smashed one of

the traces, and left him free to kick violently behind him,--a privilege

he certainly hastened to avail himself of. His fellow, whether from

sympathy or not, imitated the performance; and there they were, lashing

and plunging with all their might, while the wagon, against which the

strong current beat in all its force, threatened at every instant

to capsize. The Friar struggled manfully, as did his follower; but,

unfortunately, one of the reins gave way, and by the violent tugging

at the remaining one, the animals were turned out of their course, and

dragged round to the very middle of the stream. About twenty yards lower

down, the river fell by a kind of cascade some ten or twelve feet, and

towards this spot now the infuriated horses seemed rushing. Had it been

practicable, a strong man might, by throwing himself into the water,

have caught the horses' heads and held them back; but the stream swarmed

with poisonous reptiles, which made such an effort almost inevitable

death.

It was now a scene of terrible and most exciting interest.

The maddened horses, alternately rising and sinking, writhed and twisted

in agonies of pain. The men's voices mingled with the gushing torrent

and the splashing water, which rose higher and higher at each plunge,

while a shrill shriek from within the wagon topped all, and in its

cadence seemed to speak a heart torn with terror. As I looked, the sun

had set; and as speedily as though a curtain had fallen, the soft light

of evening gave way to a gray darkness. I rode down to the bank, and as

I reached it, one of the horses, after a terrific struggle to get free,

plunged head foremost down and disappeared. The other, unable by himself

alone to resist the weight of the wagon, which already was floating in

the stream, swung round with the torrent, and was now dragging along

toward the cataract. The dusky indistinctness even added to the terror

of the picture, as the white water splashed up on every side, and at

times seemed actually to cover the whole party in its scattering foam.

The Friar, now leaning back, tore open one of the curtains, and at

the same instant I saw a female arm stretch out and clasp him, while a

shrill cry burst forth that thrilled to my very heart.

They were already within a few yards of the cataract; a moment or two

more, they must be over it and lost! I spurred Charry forward, and down

we plunged into the water, without the slightest thought of what was to

follow. Half swimming, half bounding, I reached the wagon, which now,

broadside on the falls, tottered with every stroke of the fast rolling

river. The Mexican was standing on the pole, and endeavoring to hold

back the horse; while the Friar, ripping the canvas with his knife,

was endeavoring to extricate the female figure, who, sunk on her knees,

seemed utterly incapable of any effort for her own safety.

Whether maddened by the bite of some monster beneath the water, or

having lost his footing, I know not, but the horse went over the falls,

while the Mexican, vainly endeavoring to hold him, was carried down with

him; the wagon, reeling with the shock, heeled over to the side, and was

fast sinking, when I caught hold of the outstretched hand of the woman

and drew her towards me. "Leap, spring towards him!" cried the Friar;

and she obeyed the words, and, with a bound, seated herself behind me.

Breasting the water bravely, Charry bounded on, and in less than a

minute reached the bank, which the Friar, by the aid of a leaping-pole,

had gained before us.

Having placed the half-lifeless girl on the sward, I hastened to see

after the poor Mexican. Alas! of him and the horse we never saw trace

afterwards. We called aloud, we shouted, and even continued along the

stream for a considerable space; but to no purpose, the poor fellow had

evidently perished,--perhaps by a death too horrible to think of. The

Friar wrung his hands in agony, and mingled his thanksgiving for his own

safety with lamentations for his lost companion; and so intent was he on

these themes that he never recognized me, nor, indeed, seemed conscious

of my presence. At last, as we turned our steps towards where the girl

lay, he said, "Is it possible that you are the caballero we parted with

before sunset?"

"Yes," said I, "the same. You were loth to accept of my company, but

you see there is a fate in it, after all; you cannot get rid of me so

readily."

"Nor shall we try, Señhor," said the girl, passionately, but with a

foreign accent in her words, as she took my hands and pressed them to

her lips.

The Friar said something hastily in Spanish, which seemed a rebuke, for

she drew back at once, and buried her face in her mantle.

"Donna Maria is my niece, Señhor, and has only just left the convent of

the 'Sacred Heart.' She knows nothing of the world, nor what beseems her

as a young maiden."

This the Friar spoke harshly, and with a manner that to me sounded far

more in need of an apology than did the young girl's grateful emotion.

What was to be done became now the question. We were at least thirty

miles from Bexar, and not a village, nor even a log-hut, between us and

that city. To go back was impossible; so that, like practical people, we

at once addressed ourselves to the available alternative.

"Picket your beast, and let us light a fire," said Fra Miguel, with

the air of a man who would not waste life in vain regrets. "Thank

Providence, we have both grass and water; and although the one always

brings snakes, and the other alligators, it is better than to bivouac

on the Red River, with iron ore in the stream, and hard flints to sleep

on."

Fastening my beast to a tree, I unstrapped my saddlebags and removed my

saddle; disposing which most artistically in the fashion of an arm-chair

for Donna Maria at the foot of a stupendous beech, I set about the

preparation of a fire. The Friar, however, had almost anticipated me,

and, with both arms loaded with dead wood, sat himself down to construct

a species of hearth, placing a little circle of stones around in such a

way as to give a draught to the blaze.

"We must fast to-night, Senhor," said he; "but it will count to us

hereafter. Fan the fire with your hat, it will soon blaze briskly."

"If it were not for that young lady," said I, "whose sufferings are far

greater than ours--"

"Speak not of her, Señhor; Donna Maria de los Dolores was called after

our Mother of Sorrows, and she may as well begin her apprenticeship

to grief. She is the only child of my brother, who had sent her to be

educated at New Orleans, and is now returning home to see her father,

before she takes the veil of her novitiate."

A very low sigh--so low as only to be audible to myself--came from

beneath the beech-tree; and I threw a handful of dry chips upon

the fire, hoping to catch a glimpse of the features of my fair

fellow-traveller. Fra Miguel, however, balked my stratagem by topping

the fire with a stout log, as he said, "You are too spendthrift, Señhor;

we shall need to husband our resources, or we 'll not have enough for

the night long."

"Would you not like to come nearer to the blaze, Senhora?" said I,

respectfully.

"Thanks, sir, but perhaps--"

"Speak out, child," broke in the Father, "speak out, and say that you

are counting your rosary, and would not wish to be disturbed. And you,

Senhor, if I err not, in your eagerness to aid us have forgotten to

water your gallant beast: don't lead him to the stream, that would be

unsafe; take my sombrero: it has often served a like purpose before now.

Twice full is enough for any horse in these countries." I would have

declined this offer, but I felt that submission in everything would be

my safest passport to his good opinion; and so, armed with the "Friar's

beaver," I made my way to the stream.

Whatever his eulogies upon the pitcher-like qualities of his head-piece,

to me they seemed most undeserved; for scarcely had I filled it, than

the water ran through like a sieve. The oftener, too, was the process

repeated the less chance did there appear of success; for, instead of

retaining the fluid at all, the material became so saturated that it

threatened to tear in pieces every time it was filled, and ere I could

lift it was totally empty. Half angry with the Friar, and still more

annoyed at my own ineptitude, I gave up the effort, and returned to

where I had left him, confessing my failure as I came forward.

"Steep your 'kerchief in the stream, then, and wash the beast's mouth,"

said he, upon his knees, where, with a great string of beads, he was

engaged with his devotions.

I retired, abashed at my intrusion, and proceeded to do as I was

directed.

"What if all these cares for my horse, and all these devotional

exercises, were but stratagems to get rid of my company for a season?"

thought I, as I perceived that scarcely had I left the spot, than the

Friar arose from his knees, and seemed to busy himself about something

in the trees. Full of this impression, I made a little circuit of the

place; and what was my surprise to observe that he had converted his

upper robe of coarse blanket-cloth into a kind of hammock for Donna

Maria, in which, fastened at either end to the bough of a tree, she was

now swinging to and fro, with apparently all the pleasure of a happy

child.

"Don't you like it, Uncle, after all?" said she laughing. "It's exactly

what one has read of in Juan Cordova's stories, to be bivouacking in a

great forest, with a great fire, to keep away the jaguars."

"Hush! and go to sleep, child. I neither like it for thee nor myself.

There are more dangerous things than jaguars in these woods."

"Ah, you mean the bears, Uncle?"

"I do not," growled he, sulkily.

"As for snakes, one gets used to them; besides, they go into the tall

grass."

"Ay, ay, snakes in the grass, just so!" muttered the Friar; "but this

youth will be back presently, and let him not hear you talk such silly

nonsense. Good night, good night."

"Good night," sighed she, "but I cannot sleep; I love so to see the

fireflies dancing through the leaves, and to hear that rushing river."

"Hush! he's coming," said the Friar; and all was still.

When I came up, "the Friar" was again sunk in holy meditation, so that,

disposing myself beside the fire, with my rifle at one side, and my

pistols at the other, I lay down to sleep. Although I closed my eyes

and lay still, I did not sleep. My thoughts were full of Donna Maria, of

whom I weaved a hundred conjectures. It was evident she was young; her

voice was soft and musical too, and had that pleasant bell-like cadence

so indicative of a light heart and a happy nature. Why was she called

the "Los Dolores"? I asked myself again and again what had she in her

joyousness to do with grief and care; and why should she enter a

convent and become a nun? These were questions there was no solving, and

apparently, if I might judge from the cadence of her now deep sigh, no

less puzzling to herself than to me. The more my interest became excited

for her, the stronger grew my dislike to the Friar. That he was a surly

old tyrant, I perfectly satisfied myself. What a pity that I could not

rescue her from such cruelty as easily as I saved her from the cataract!

Would that I could even see her! There was something so tormenting in

the mystery of her concealment, and so, I deemed, must she herself feel

it. We should be so happy together, journeying along day by day through

the forest! What tales would I not tell her of my wanderings, and how I

should enjoy the innocence of her surprise at my travelled wonders! And

all the strange objects of these wild woods,--how they would interest

and amuse, were there "two" to wonder at and admire them! How I wished

she might be pretty; what a disappointment if she were not; what a total

rout to all my imaginings if she were to have red hair,--how terrible

if she should squint! These thoughts at last became too tantalizing for

endurance, and so I tried to fall asleep and forget them; but in vain,

they had got too firm a hold of me, and I could not shake them off.

It was now about midnight, the fire waxed low, and "the Friar" was sound

asleep. What connection was there between these considerations and her

of whom I was thinking? Who knows? I arose and sat up, listening with

eager ear to the low long breathings of the Friar, who, with his round

bullet-head pillowed on a pine-log, slept soundly; the gentle hum of the

leaves, scarcely moved by the night wind, and the distant sound of the

falling water, were lullabies to his slumber. It was a gorgeous night of

stars; the sky was studded with bright orbs in all the brilliant lustre

of a southern latitude. The fireflies, too, danced and glittered on

every side, leaving traces of the phosphoric light on the leaves as they

passed. The air was warm and balmy with "the rich odor of the cedar and

the acacia,"--just such a night as one would like to pass in "converse

sweet" with some dear friend, mingling past memories with shadowy

dreams, and straying along from bygones to futurity.

I crept over stealthily to where the Friar lay: a lively fear prevailed

with me that he might be feigning sleep, and so I watched him long and

narrowly. No, it was an honest slumber; the deep guttural of his mellow

throat was beyond counterfeiting. I threw a log upon the fire carelessly

and with noise, to see if it would awake him; but he only muttered a

word or two that sounded like Latin, and slept on. I now strained

my eyes towards the hammock, of which, under the shadow of a great

sycamore-tree, I could barely detect the outline through the leaves.

Should I be able to discern her features, were I to creep over? What a

difficult question, and how impossible to decide by mere reasoning upon

it! What if I were to try? It was a pure piece of curiosity,--curiosity

of the most harmless kind. I had been, doubtless, just as eager to scan

the Friar's lineaments, if he had taken the same pains to conceal them

from me. It was absurd, besides, to travel with a person and not see

their face. Intercourse was a poor thing without that reciprocity which

looks convey. I 'll have a peep, at all events, said I, summing up to

myself all my arguments; and with this resolve I moved cautiously along,

and, making a wide circuit, came round to the foot of the sycamore, at

the side most remote from the Friar.

There was the hammock, almost within reach of my hand! It seemed to

swing to and fro. I cannot say if this were mere deception; and so I

crept nearer, just to satisfy my doubts. At last I reached the side,

and peeped in. All I could see was the outline of a figure wrapped in

a mantle, and a mass of soft silky hair, which fell over and shaded the

face. It was some time before my eyes grew accustomed to the deep shadow

of the spot; but by degrees I could perceive the profile of a young and

beautiful face resting upon one arm, the other hung negligently at one

side, and the hand drooped over the edge of the hammock. The attitude

was the very perfection of graceful ease, and such as a sculptor might

have modelled. What a study, too, that hand, whose dimpled loveliness

the starlight speckled! How could I help touching it with my lips?--the

first time, with all the hallowed reverence a worshipper would vouchsafe

to some holy relic; the second, with a more fervent devotion; the third,

I ventured to take the hand in mine and slightly press it. Did I dream?

Could the ecstasy be no more than fancy?--I thought the pressure was

returned.

She turned gently around, and in a voice of surpassing softness

whispered, "Tell me your name, Senhor Caballero?" I whispered low, "Con

Cregan."

"Yes, but what do your sisters call you?"

"I have none, Señhora."

"Your brothers, then?"

"I never had a brother."

"How strange! nor I either. Then how shall I call you?"

"Call me your brother," said I, trying to repossess myself of the hand

she had gently withdrawn from my grasp.

"And will you call me Maria?" said she, gayly.

"If you permit it, Maria. But how will Fra Miguel think of it?"

"Ah! I forgot that. But what can he say? You saved my life. I should

have been carried away, like poor Sancho, but for you. Tell me how you

chanced to be here, and where you are going, and whence you come, and

all about you. Sit down there, on that stone. Nay, you need n't hold my

hand while talking."

"Yes, but I 'm afraid to be alone here in the dark, Maria," said I.

"What a silly creature it is! Now begin."

"I 'd rather talk of the future, Maria, dearest. I 'd rather we should

speak of all the happy days we may spend together."

"But how so? Once at Bexar, I 'm to wait at the monastery till my father

sends his mules and people to fetch me home; meanwhile, you will have

wandered away Heaven knows where."

"And where do you call home, Maria?"

"Far away, beyond the Rio Grande, in the gold country, near Aguaverde."

"And why should I not go thither? I am free to turn my steps whither I

will. Perhaps your father would not despise the services of one who has

some smattering of knowledge upon many a theme."

"But a Caballero--a real Señhor--turn miner! They are all miners there."

"No matter; Fortune might favor me, and make me rich, and then,--and

then,--who is to tell what changes might follow? The Caballero might bid

adieu to the 'Placer,' and the fair 'Donna Maria' wave a good-bye to the

nunnery--and, by the way, that is a very cruel destiny they intend for

you."

"Who knows? I was very happy in the 'Sacred Heart.'"

"Possibly, Maria; but you were a child, and would have been happy

anywhere. But think of the future; think of the time when you will be

loved, and will love in turn; think of that bright world of which the

convent-window does not admit one passing glance. Think of the glorious

freedom to enjoy whatever is beautiful in Nature, and to feel sympathies

with all that is great and good; and reflect upon the sad monotony of

the cloister,--its cold and cheerless existence, uncared for, almost

unfelt."

"And when the Superior is cross!" cried she, holding up her hands.

"And she is always cross, Maria. That austere habit repels every

generous emotion, as it defies every expansion of the heart. No, no; you

must not be a nun."

"Well, I will not," said she.

"You promise me this, Maria?"

"Yes, upon one condition,--that you will come to the 'Placer,' and tell

my father all that you have told to me. He is so good and so kind, he

'll never force me."

"But will he receive me? Will your father permit me so to speak?"

"You saved my life, Señhor," said she, half-proudly; "and little as you

reckon such a service, it is one upon which Don Estavan Olares will set

some store."

"Ah!" said I, sighing, "how little merit had I in the feat! It did not

even cause me the slightest injury."

"I am just as gratified as though you had been eaten by an alligator,

Señhor," said she, laughing with a sly malice that made me half suspect

that some, at least, of her innocence was assumed.

From this we wandered on to speak of the journey for the morrow, which

I proposed she should make upon "Charry," while Fra Miguel and myself

accompanied her on foot. It was also agreed between us that we should

preserve the most rigid reserve and distance of manner in the Friar's

presence, rarely noticing or speaking with each other. One only

difficulty existed, which was by what pretence I should direct my steps

to Aguaverde. But here again Donna Maria's ready wit suggested the

expedient, as she said, laughing, "Are you not making a pilgrimage to

the shrine of Our Lady 'des los Dolores '?"

"So I am," said I. "Shame on me that I should have forgotten it till

now!"

"Did you never tell me," said she, archly, "that you intended to enter

'an order'?"

"Certainly," said I, joining the merry humor; "and so will I, on the

very same day you take the veil."

"And now, holy man," said she, with difficulty repressing a fresh

burst of laughter, "let us say, 'Good night.' Fra Miguel will awake at

daybreak, and I see that is already near."

"Good night, sweet sister," said I, once again pressing her fingers to

my lips, and scarcely knowing when to relinquish them. A heavy sigh

from the Friar, however, admonished me to hasten away; and I crept to

my place, and lay down beside the now almost extinguished embers of our

fire.

"What a good thought was that of the pilgrimage," said I, as I drew my

cloak around me; and I remembered that "Chico's" beads and his "book

of offices" were still among my effects in the saddle-bags, and would

greatly favor my assumption of the pious character. I then tried to

recall some of my forgotten Latin. From this I reverted to thoughts

of Donna Maria herself, and half wondered at the rapid strides we had

accomplished in each other's confidence. At last I fell asleep, to dream

of every incongruity and încoherency that ever haunted a diseased brain.

Nunneries, with a crocodile for the Abbess, gave way to scenes in the

Placers, where Nuns were gold-washing, and Friars riding down cataracts

on caymans. From such pleasant realities a rough shake of Fra Miguel

aroused me, as he cried, "When a man laughs so heartily in his sleep,

he may chance to keep all the grave thoughts for his waking. Rise up,

Señhor; the day is breaking. Let us profit by the cool hours to make our

journey."

As day was breaking we set out for Bexar, in the manner I had suggested;

Donna Maria riding, the Friar and myself, one either side of her,

on foot. Resolved upon winning, so far as might be, Fra Miguel's

confidence, I addressed my conversation almost exclusively to him,

rarely speaking a word to my fair companion, and then only upon the

commonest questions of the way.

As none of us had eaten since the day previous, nor was there any

baiting-place till we reached Bexar, it was necessary to make the best

of our way thither with all speed. The Fra knew the road perfectly, and

by his skill in detecting the marks on trees, the position of certain

rocks, and the course of the streams, gave me some insight into the

acute qualities necessary for a prairie traveller. These themes, too,

furnished the greater portion of our conversation, which, I am free to

own, offered many a long interval of dreary silence. The Fra's thoughts

dwelt gloomily on his late disaster, while Donna Maria and myself were

condemned to the occasional exchange of a chance remark or some question

about the road.

Once or twice Fra Miguel questioned me on the subject of my own history;

but ere I had proceeded any length in detailing my veracious narrative,

an accidental word or remark would show that he was inattentive to what

I was speaking, and only occupied by his own immediate reflections.

Why, then, trouble myself with biographical inventions which failed to

excite any interest? And so I relapsed into a silence plodding and moody

as his own.

At length the path became too narrow for us all to go abreast, and as

my duties were to guide Charry by the bridle, I became the companion of

Maria by force of circumstances; still, Fra Miguel kept up close behind,

and however abstracted at other times, he now showed himself "wide

awake" on the subject of our intercourse. Denied the pleasure of talking

to each other, we could at least exchange glances; and this was a

privilege no surveillance, however rigid, could deny us. These are small

and insignificant details, which were of little moment at the time,

and led to even less for the future; but I record them as the first

stirrings of love in a heart which might have been deemed too intent

upon its own cares to admit of others. And here let me observe that the

taste for stratagem--the little wiles and snares inspired by a first

passion--are among the strongest incentives to its origin. It was

the secrecy of our meeting at night, the little difficulties of our

intercourse by day, the peril of discovery as we spoke together, the

danger of detection as we exchanged glances, that, by giving us a common

object, suggested a common feeling. Both engaged in the same warfare,

how could we avoid sympathizing with each other? Then, there was that

little "dash of romance" about our first meeting, so auxiliary to the

tender passion; and, again, we were wandering, side by side, in a silent

forest, with only one other near us. Would we could have disposed of him

too! I shame to say it, but, in honest truth. I often wished that he had

followed the Mexican!

We halted during the great heat of the day, and the Fra once more

"rigging" out his capote for a hammock, Donna Maria lay down for the

siesta, while I cut grass for Charry, and rubbed her down. Long fasting

had made us all more disposed to silence, so that a few monosyllables

were all that passed. When the time came to resume the road, I am proud

to say that the Fra bore his privations with less equanimity than did

we. His sighs grew heavy and frequent; any accidental interruption on

the road evoked unmistakable signs of irritation; he even expostulated

with certain saints, whose leaden images decorated his sombrero, as to

the precise reasons for which his present sufferings were incurred; and

altogether, as hunger pinched, showed a more rebellious spirit than his

holy discourses of the preceding evening could have led me to suspect.

One time, he charged his calamities to the score of having eaten turtle,

which was only half fish, on a Friday; at another, it was upon that

unlucky day the journey had been begun; then he remembered that the

Mexican was only a half-breed, who possibly, if baptized at all, was

only an irregular kind of a Christian, admitted into the fold by some

stray missionary, more trapper than priest. Then he bethought him that

his patron, Saint Michel of Pavia, was of an uncertain humor, and often

tormented his votaries, by way of trying their fidelity. These various

doubts assumed the form of open grumblings, which certainly inspired

very different sentiments in Donna Maria and myself than edification. As

evening closed in, and darkness favored us, these ghostly lamentations

afforded us many a low, quiet laugh. A soft pressure of the hand,

which now, by mere accident, of course, she had let fall near me, would

sometimes show how we concurred in our sentiments, till at length as the

thicker gloom of night fell around, such was our unanimity that her hand

remained clasped in my own, without any further attempt to remove it.

If the Fra's gratitude burst forth eloquently as we came in sight of

some spangled lights glittering through the gloom, our sensations were

far more akin to disappointment.

"Bexar at last, praised be Saint Michel!" exclaimed he. "It has been

a long and dreary journey." Here I pressed Donna Maria's hand, and she

returned the pressure.

"Two days of disaster and sore suffering!" Another squeeze of the

Señhora's fingers.

"A time I shall never forget," muttered he.

"Nor I," whispered I to my fair companion.

"A season of trouble and distress!" quoth the Fra.

"Of love and happiness!" muttered I.

"And now, my worthy young friend," said he, addressing me, "as we are

so soon to part,--for yonder is Bexar,--how shall we best show our

gratitude? Would you like a 'novena' to 'Our Lady of Tears,' whose altar

is here? or shall we vow a candle to Saint Nicomedè of Terapia?"

"Thanks, holy Father, there is no need for either; mine was a slight

service, more than requited by the pleasure of travelling in your

company and that of this pious maiden. I have learned many a goodly

lesson by the way, and will think over them as I wander on my future

pilgrimage."

"And whither may that tend, Señhor?"

"To the shrine of 'Our Lady of Sorrows' at Aguaverde, by the help of

Saint Francis."

"Aguaverde!" exclaimed Fra Miguel, with a voice that bespoke anything

rather than pleasure; "it is a long and a dangerous journey, young man!"

"The greater the merit, Father!"

"Trackless wastes and deep rivers, hostile Indians and even more cruel

half-breeds. These are some of the perils," said he, in a voice of

warning; but a gentle pressure from the Señhora's fingers was more than

an answer to such terrors.

"You can make your penance here, young man, at the Convent of the

Missions. There are holy men who will give you all good counsel; and I

will myself speak to them for you."

I was about to decline this polite intervention, when a quiet gesture

from Donna Maria arrested my words, and made me accept the offer, with

thanks.

Thus chatting, we reached the suburbs of Bexar, and soon entered the

main street of that town. And here let me record a strange feature of

the life of this land, which, although one that I soon became accustomed

to, had a most singular aspect to my eyes on first acquaintance. It

was a hot and sultry night of June, the air as dry and parched as of

a summer day in our English climate; and we found that the whole

population had their beds disposed along the streets, and were sleeping

for the benefit of the cool night air,--al fresco. There was no moon,

nor any lamplight, but by the glimmering stars we could see this

strange encampment, which barely left a passage in the middle for the

mule-carts.

Some of the groups were irresistibly droll: here was an old lady, with a

yellow-and-red handkerchief round her head, snoring away, while a negro

wench waved a plaintan-bough to and fro to keep off the mosquitoes,

which thronged the spot from the inducement of a little glimmering lamp

to the Virgin over the bed. There was a thin, lantern-jawed old fellow

sipping his chocolate before he resigned himself to sleep. Now and

then there would be a faint scream and a muttered apology as some one,

feeling his way to his nest, had fallen over the couch of a sleeper.

Mothers were nursing babies, nurses were singing others to rest; social

spirits were recalling the last strains of recent convivialities; while

others, less genially given, were uttering their "Carambas" in all the

vindictive anger of broken slumber. Now and then a devotional attitude

might be detected, and even some little glimpses caught of some fair

form making her toilet for the night, and throwing back her dishevelled

hair to peer at the passing strangers.

Such were the scenes that even a brief transit presented; a longer

sojourn and a little more light had doubtless discovered still more

singular ones.

We halted at the gate of a large, gloomy-looking building which the

Friar informed me was the "Venta Nazionale," the chief inn of the town;

and by dint of much knocking, and various interlocutions between Fra

Miguel and a black, four stories high, the gates were at length opened.

Faint, hungry, and tired, I had hoped that we should have supped in

company, and thus recompensed me for my share of the successful issue of

the journey; but the Fra, giving his orders hastily, wished me an abrupt

"good night," and led his niece up the narrow stairs, leaving me and my

mare in the gloomy entrance, like things whose services were no longer

needed.

"This may be Texan gratitude, Fra Miguel," said I to myself, "but

certainly you never brought it from your own country." Meanwhile the

negro, after lighting the others upstairs, returned to where I was, and

perhaps not impressed by any high notions of my quality, or too sleepy

to think much about the matter, sat down on a stone bench, and looked

very much as if about to compose himself to another doze. I was in

no mood of gentleness, and so, bestowing a hearty kick upon my black

"brother," I told him to show me the way to the stable at once. The

answer to this somewhat rude summons was a strange one,--he gave a kind

of grin that showed all his teeth, and made a species of hissing noise,

like "Cheet, cheet," said rapidly,--a performance I had never witnessed

before, nor, for certain reasons, have I any fancy to witness again.

"Do you hear me, black fellow?" cried I, tapping his bullet-head with

the end of my heavy whip pretty much as one does a tavern-table to

summon the waiter.

"Cheet, cheet, cheet," cried he again, but with redoubled energy.

"Confound your jargon," said I, angrily; "get up out of that, and lead

the way to the stable." This speech I accompanied by another admonition

from my foot, given, I am free to own, with all the irritable impatience

of a thirty hours' fast.

The words had scarcely passed my lips, ere the fellow sprang to his

legs, and, with a cry like the scream of an infuriated beast, dashed at

me. I threw out my arm as a guard, but, stooping beneath it, he plunged

a knife into my side, and fled. I heard the heavy bang of the great door

resound as he rushed out, and then fell to the ground, weltering in my

blood!

I made a great effort to cry out, but my voice failed me; the blood ran

fast from my wound, and a chill, sickening sensation crept over me, that

I thought must be "death." "'T is hard to die thus," was the thought

that crossed me, and it was the last effort of consciousness, ere I

swooned into insensibility.

CHAPTER XXII. THE LAZARETTO OF BEXAR

Kind-hearted reader,--you who have sympathized with so many of the

rubs that Fortune has dealt us; who have watched us with a benevolent

interest in our warfare with an adverse destiny; who have marked our

struggles, and witnessed our defeats,--will surely compassionate our sad

fate when we tell you that when the curtain next rises on our drama, it

presents us no longer what we had been!

Con Cregan, the light-hearted vagrant, paddling his lone canoe down

life's stream in joyous merriment, himself sufficing to himself, his

eyes ever upward as his hopes were onward, his crest an eagle's, and

his motto "higher," was no more. He had gone,--vanished, been dissipated

into thin air; and in his place there sat, too weak to walk, a poor

emaciated creature, with shaven head and shrunken limbs, a very wreck of

humanity, pale, sallow, and miserable as fever and flannel could paint

him.

Yes, gentle reader, under the shade of a dwarf fig-tree, in the Leper

Hospital of Bexar, I sat, attired in a whole suit of flannel, of a pale,

brown tint, looking like a faded flea, all my gay spirits fled, and

my very identity merged into the simple fact that I was known as

"Convalescent, No. 303,"--an announcement which, for memory's sake,

perhaps, was stamped upon the front of my nightcap.

Few people are fortunate enough not to remember the strange jumble of

true and false, the incoherent tissue of fact and fancy, which assails

the first moments of recovery from illness. It is a pitiable period,

with its thronging thoughts, all too weighty for the light brain that

should bear them. You follow your ideas like an ill-mounted horseman in

a hunt; no sooner have you caught a glimpse of the game than it is lost

again; on you go, wearied by the pace, but never cheered by success;

often tumbling into a slough, missing your way, and mistaking the object

of pursuit: such are the casualties in either case, and they are not

enviable ones.

Now, lest I should seem to be a character of all others I detest, a

grumbler without cause, let me ask the reader to sit beside me for a

few seconds on this bench, and look with me at the prospect around him.

Yonder, that large white building, with grated windows, jail-like and

sad, is the Leper Hospital of Bexar, an institution originally intended

for the sick of that one malady, but, under the impression of its

being contagious, generously extended to those laboring under any other

disease. The lepers are that host who sit in groups upon the grass, at

cards or dice, or walk in little knots of two and three. Their

shambling gait and crippled figures,--the terrible evidence of their

malady,--twisted limbs, contorted into every horrible variety of

lameness, hands with deficient fingers, faces without noses, are the

ordinary symbols. The voices, too, are either husky and unnatural, or

reduced to a thin, reedy treble, like the wail of an infant. Worse

than all, far more awful to contemplate, to him exposed to such

companionship, their minds would appear more diseased than even their

bodies: some evincing this aberration by traits of ungovernable passion,

some by the querulous irritability of peevish childhood, and some by

the fatuous vacuity of idiocy; and here am I gazing upon all this, and

speculating, by the aid of a little bit of broken looking-glass, how

long it is probable that I shall retain the "regulation" number of the

human features.

Ah, you gentlemen of England, who live at home at ease, may smile at

such miseries; but let me tell you that however impertinent you might

deem him who told you "to follow your nose," the impossibility of

compliance is a yet heavier infliction; and it was with a trembling

eagerness that, each morning as I awoke, I consulted the map of my face,

to be sure that I was master of each geographical feature.

While all who may break a leg or cut a blood-vessel are reckoned fit

subjects to expose to the risk of this contagion, the most guarded

measures are adopted to protect the world without the walls from every

risk. Not only is every leper denied access to his friends and family,

but even written communication is refused him, while sentinels are

stationed at short intervals around the grounds, with orders to fire

upon any who should attempt an escape.

Here then was I in a jail, with the danger of a horrible disease

superadded. Algebraically, my case stood thus: letting the letter P

represent a prison, L the leprosy, and N my nose, P + L--N being equal

to any given number of deaths by torture. Such was my case, such my

situation; while of the past, by what chain of events I came to be thus

a prisoner, I knew nothing. A little memoir at the head of my bed set

forth that I was "a case of punctured wound in the thorax," with several

accessory advantages, not over intelligible by my ignorance, but which I

guessed to imply, that if the doctor didn't finish me off at once, there

was every chance of my slipping away by a lingering malady,--some one

of those "chest affections" that make the fortunes of doctors, but

are seldom so profitable to the patients. One fact was, however, very

suggestive. It was above four months since the date of my admission

to the hospital,--a circumstance that vouched for the gravity of my

illness, as well as showing what a number of events might have occurred

in the interval.

Four months! and where was Donna Maria now? Had she forgotten

me,--forgotten the terrible scene on the Collorado; forgotten the

starlit night in the forest? Had they left me, without any interest in

my future,--deserted me, wounded, perhaps dying?--a sad return for the

services I had rendered them! That Fra Miguel should have done this,

would have caused me no surprise; but the Señhora,--she who sprang by a

bound into intimacy with me, and called me "brother"! Alas! if this were

so, what faith could be placed in woman?

In vain I sought information on these points from those around me. My

Spanish was not the very purest Castilian, it is true; but here, another

and greater obstacle to knowledge existed: no one cared anything for the

past, and very little for the future; the last event that held a place

in their memory was the day of their admission, the fell malady was the

centre round which all thoughts revolved, and I was regarded as a kind

of visionary, when asking about circumstances that occurred before I

entered the hospital. There were vague and shadowy rumors about me

and my adventure,--so much I could find out; but whatever these were,

scarcely two agreed on,--not one cared. Some said I had killed a priest;

others averred it was a negro; a few opined that I had done both; and

an old mulatto woman, with a face like a target, the bull's-eye being

represented by where the nose ought to be, related a more connected

narrative about my having stolen a horse, and being overtaken by a negro

slave of the owner, who rescued the animal and stabbed _me_.

All the stories tallied in one particular, which was in representing me

as a fellow of the most desperate character and determination, and who

cared as little for shedding blood as spilling water,--traits, I am

bound to acknowledge, which never appeared to lower me in general

esteem. Of course, all inquiries as to my horse, poor Charry, my

precious saddle-bags, my rifle, my bowie-knife, and my "Harper's-ferry,"

would have proved less than useless,--actually absurd. The patients

would have reckoned such questions as little vagaries of mental

wandering, and the servants of the house never replied to anything.

My next anxiety was, when I should be at liberty? The doctor, when I

asked him, gave a peculiar grin, and said, "We cannot spare you, amigo;

we shall want to look at your pericardium one of these days. _I_ say it

is perforated; Don Emanuel says not. Time will tell who 's right."

"You mean when I'm dead, Señhor, of course?" cried I, not fancying the

chance of resolving the difficulties by being carved alive.

"Of course I do," said he. "Yours is a very instructive case; and

I shall take care that your heart and a portion of the left lung be

carefully injected, and preserved in the museum."

"May you live a thousand years!" said I, bowing my gratitude, while a

chill crept over me that I thought I should have fainted.

I have already mentioned that sentries were placed at intervals round

the walls to prevent escape,--a precaution which, were one to judge

from the desolate and crippled condition of the inmates, savored of over

care. A few were able to crawl along upon crutches, the majority were

utterly helpless, while the most active were only capable of creeping up

the bank which formed the boundary of the grounds, to look down into the

moat beneath,--a descent of some twenty feet, but which, to imaginations

such as theirs, was a gulf like the crater of a volcano.

Whenever a little group, then, would station themselves on the

"heights," as they were called, and gaze timidly into the depths below,

the guards, far from dispersing them, saw that no better lesson could

be administered than what their own fears suggested, and prudently left

them to the admonitions of their terrors. I remembered this fact, and

resolved to profit by it. If death were to be my lot, it could not come

anywhere with more horrors than here; so that, happen what might,

I resolved to make an effort at escape. The sentry's bullet had few

terrors for one who saw himself surrounded by such objects of suffering

and misery, and who daily expected to be one of their number. Were the

leap to kill me,--a circumstance that in my weak and wounded condition I

judged far from unlikely,--it was only anticipating a few days; and what

days were they!

Such were my calculations, made calmly and with reflection. Not that I

was weary of life; were the world but open to me, I felt I should resume

all my former zest in its sayings and doings,--nay, I even fancied that

the season of privation would give a higher color to my enjoyment of

it; and I know that the teachings of adversity are not the least useful

accessories of him whose wits must point the road to fortune. True

is it, the emergencies of life evoke the faculties and develop the

resources, as the storm and the shipwreck display the hardy mariner. Who

knows, Con, but good luck may creep in even through a punctured wound in

the thorax!

As the day closed, the patients were always recalled by a bell, and

patrol parties of soldiers went round to see if by accident any yet

lingered without the walls. The performance of duty was, however, most

slovenly, since, as I have already said, escape never occurred to those

whose apathy of mind and infirmity of body had made them indifferent to

everything. I lingered, then, in a distant alley as the evening began

to fall, and when the bell rung out its dismal summons, I trembled to

think--was it the last time I should ever hear it! It was a strange

thrill of mingled hope and terror; Where should I be the next evening at

that hour? Free, and at liberty,--a wanderer wherever fancy might lead

me, or the occupant of some narrow bed beneath the earth, sleeping the

sleep that knows no waking? And, if so, who could less easily be missed

than he who had neither friend, nor family, nor fortune. I felt that my

departure, like that of some insignificant guest, would meet notice from

none: not one to ask what became of him? when did he leave us? to whom

did he say farewell?

If there was something unspeakably sad in the solitude of such a

fate, there was that also which nerved the heart by a sense of

Self-sufficiency,--the very brother of Independence; and this thought

gave me courage as I looked over the grassy embankment, and peered into

the gloomy fosse, which now, in the indistinct light, seemed far deeper

than ever. A low, marshy tract, undrained and uninhabitable, surrounded

the "Lazaretto" for miles; and if this insalubrious neighborhood

assisted in keeping up the malaria of fever, it compensated, on the

other hand, by interposing an unpopulated district between the sick and

the healthy.

These dreary wastes, pathless and untrodden, were a kind of fabulous

region among the patients for all kind of horrors, peopled, as the fancy

of each dictated, by the spirits of departed "Léperos," by venomous

serpents and cobras, or by escaped galley-slaves, who led a life of

rapine and murder. The flitting jack-o'-lantern that often skimmed along

the surface, the wild cry of the plover, the dreary night wind sighing

over miles of plain, aided these superstitions, and convinced many whose

stubborn incredulity demanded corroboration from the senses. As for

myself, if very far from crediting the tales I had so often listened to,

the theme left its character of gloom upon my mind, and it was with a

cold shudder that I strained my eyes over the wide distance, from which

a heavy exhalation was already rising. Determined to derive comfort

from every source, I bethought me that the misty fog would assist my

concealment, as if it were worth while to pursue me through a region

impregnated with all the vapors of disease! The bell had ceased, the

bang of the great iron wicket had resounded, and all was still. I

hesitated, I know not why: a moment before, my mind was made up; and

now, it seemed like self-destruction to go on! Here was life! a sad

and terrible existence, truly; but was the dark grave better? or, if it

were, had I the right to make the choice? This was a subtlety that had

not occurred till now. The dull tramp of the patrol routed my musings,

as in quick time a party advanced up the alley towards me. They were

not visible from the darkness, but the distance could not be great, and

already I could hear the corporal urging them forward, as the mists were

rising, and a deadly fog gathering over the earth. Any longer delay

now, and my project must be abandoned forever, seeing that my lingering

outside the walls would expose me to close surveillance for the future.

I arose suddenly, and advanced to the very edge of the cliff: would that

I could only have scanned the depth below, and seen where I was about

to go! Alas! darkness was on all; a foot beneath where I stood, all was

black and undistinguishable.

The patrol were now about thirty paces from me; another instant, and

I should be taken! I clasped my hands together convulsively, and, with

drawn-in breath and clenched lips, I bent my knees to spring. Alas, they

would not! my strength failed me at this last moment, and instead of

a leap, my limbs relaxed, and, tottering under me, gave way. I lost my

balance, and fell over the cliff! Grasping the grassy surface with

the energy of despair, I tore tufts of long grass and fern as I fell

down--down--down--till consciousness left me, to be rallied again into

life by a terrible "squash" into a reedy swamp at the bottom. Up to my

waist in duck-weed and muddy water, I soon felt, however, that I had

sustained no other injury than a shock,--nay, even fancied that the

concussion had braced my nerves; and as I looked up at the dark mass of

wall above me, I knew that my fall must have been terrific.

Neither my bodily energy nor my habiliments favored me in escaping from

this ditch; but I did rescue myself at last, and then, remembering that

I must reach some place of refuge before day broke, I set out over the

moor, my only pilotage being the occasionally looking back at the lights

of the hospital, and, in sailor-fashion, using them as my point of

departure. When creeping along the walks of the Lazaretto, I was barely

able to move; and now, such a good ally is a strong "will," I stepped

out boldly and manfully.

As I walked on, the night cleared, a light fresh breeze dissipated the

vapor, and refreshed me as I went, while overhead, myriads of bright

stars shone out, and served to guide me on the trackless waste. If I

often felt fatigue stealing over me, a thought of the Lazaretto and its

fearful inmates nerved me to new efforts. Sometimes so possessed did I

become with these fears that I actually increased my speed to a run, and

thus, exerting myself to the very utmost, I made immense progress, and

ere day began to break, found myself at the margin of the moor, and the

entrance to a dense forest, which I remembered often to have seen of a

clear evening from the garden of the Lazaretto. With what gratitude

did I accept that leafy shade, which seemed to promise me its refuge! I

threw my arms around a tree, in the ecstasy of my delight, and felt that

now indeed I had gained a haven of rest and safety. By good fortune,

too, I came upon a pathway: a small piece of board nailed to a tree

bore the name of a village; but this I could not read in the half light;

still, it was enough that I was sure of a beaten track, and could not be

lost in the dense intricacies of a pine-forest.

The change of scene encouraged me to renewed exertion. And I began

to feel that, so far from experiencing fatigue, each mile I travelled

supplied me with greater energy, and that my strength rose each hour as

I left the Lazaretto farther behind me.

"Ah, Con, my boy, fortune has not taken leave of you yet!" said I, as I

discovered that my severe exercise, far from being injurious, as I had

feared, was already bringing back the glow of health to my frame, and

spirit to my heart.

There is something unspeakably calming in the solitude of a forest,

unlike the lone sensations inspired by the sea or the prairie; the

feeling is one of peaceful quietude. The tempered sunlight stealing

through the leaves and boughs entangled; the giant trunks that tell

of centuries ago; the short, smooth, mossy turf through which the tiny

rivulet runs without a channel; the little vistas opening like alleys,

or ending in some shady nook, bower-like and retired,--fill the mind

with a myriad of pleasant fancies. Instead of wandering forth over the

immensity of space, as when contemplating the great ocean or the desert,

the heart here falls back upon itself, and is satisfied with the little

world around it.

Such were my reveries as I lay down beneath a tree, at first to muse,

and then to sleep; and such a sleep as only a weary foot-traveller

knows, who, stretched under the shade of a spreading tree, lies

dreamless and lost. It must have been late ere I awoke; the sunlight

came slanting obliquely through the leaves, and bespoke the decline of

day. I rose. At first my limbs were stiff and rigid, and my sensations

those of debility; but after a little time my strength came back, and

I strode along freely. Continuing the path, I came, after about three

hours' fast walking, to a little open spot in the wood, where the

remains of a hut and the charred fragments of firewood indicated a

bivouac. Some morsels of black bread strewn about, and a stray piece of

dried venison, argued that the party who had left them had but recently

quitted the spot. Very grateful for the negligent abundance of their

waste, I sat down, and, by the aid of a little spring,--the reason,

probably, of the selection of the spot for a halt,--made a capital

supper, some chestnuts that had fallen from the trees furnishing a

delicious dessert. Night was fast closing in, and I resolved on passing

it where I was, the shelter of the little hut being too tempting a

refuge to relinquish easily. The next morning I started early, my mind

fully satisfied that I was preceded by some foot party, the path not

admitting of any other, with whom, by exertion, I should be perhaps able

to come up. I walked from day to dawn with scarcely an interval of rest,

but, although the tracks of many feet showed me my conjecture was right,

I did not succeed in overtaking them. Towards evening I again came upon

their bivouac-ground, which was even more abundantly provided than the

preceding one. They appeared to have killed a buck; and though having

roasted an entire side, had contented themselves with some steaks off

the quarter. Upon this I feasted luxuriously, securing a sufficient

provision to last me for the next two or three days.

In this way I continued to travel for eight entire days, each successive

one hoping to overtake the party in advance, and, if disappointed in

this expectation, well pleased with the good luck that had supplied

me so far with food, and made my journey safe and pleasant; for it was

both. A single beast of prey I never met with, nor even a serpent larger

than the common green snake, which is neither venomous nor bold; and as

for pleasure, I was free. Was not that alone happiness for him who had

been a prisoner among the "Léperos" of Bexar?

On the ninth day of my wandering, certain unmistakable signs indicated

that I was approaching the verge of the forest: the grass became deeper,

the wood less dense; the undergrowth, too, showed the influence of winds

and currents of air. These, only appreciable by him who has watched with

anxious eyes every little change in the aspect of Nature, became at last

evident to the least observant in the thickened bark and the twisted

branches of the trees, on which the storms of winter were directed.

Shall I own it? My heart grew heavy at these signs, boding, as they

did, another change of scene. And to what? Perhaps the bleak prairie,

stretching away in dreary desolation! Perhaps some such tract of swampy

moor, where forests once had stood, but now, lying in mere waste of

rottenness and corruption; "clearings," as they are called, the little

intervals which hard industry plants amid universal wildness, I could

not hope for, since I had often heard that no settlers ever selected

these places, to which access by water was difficult, and the roads few

and bad. What, then, was to come next? Not the sea-coast,--_that_

must be miles away to the eastward; not the chain of the Rocky

Mountains,--they lay equally far to the west.

While yet revolving these thoughts, I reached the verge of the wood; and

suddenly, and without anything which might apprise me of this singular

change, I found myself standing on the verge of a great bluff of land

overlooking an apparently boundless plain. The sight thus unexpectedly

presented of a vast prairie--for such it was--was overwhelming in its

intense interest. My position, from a height of some seven or eight

hundred feet, gave me an uninterrupted view over miles and miles of

surface. Towards the far west, a ridge of rugged mountains could

be seen; but to the south and east, a low flat horizon bounded the

distance. The surface of this great tract was covered for a short space

by dry cedars, apparently killed by a recent fire; beyond that, a tall,

rank grass grew, through which I could trace something like a road. This

was, as I afterwards learned, a buffalo-trail, these animals frequently

marching in close column when in search of water. The sun was setting as

I looked, and gilded the whole vast picture with its yellow glory; but

as it sunk beneath the horizon, and permitted a clearer view of

the scene, I could perceive that everything--trees, grass, earth

itself--presented one uniform dry, burnt-up appearance.

Not a creature of any kind was seen to move over this great plain; not a

wing cleaved the air above; not a sound broke the stillness beneath. It

was a solitude the most complete I ever conceived,--grand and imposing!

How my heart sank within me as I sat and looked, thinking I was there

alone, without one creature near me, to linger out, perhaps, some few

days or hours of life, and die unseen, un-watched, uncared for! And to

this sad destiny had ambition brought me! Were it not for the craving

desire to become something above my station, to move in a sphere to

which neither my birth nor my abilities gave me any title, and I should

be now the humble peasant, living by my daily labor in my native

land, my thoughts travelling in the worn track those of my neighbors

journeyed, and I neither better nor worse off than they.

And for this wish--insensate, foolish as it was--the expiation is indeed

heavy. I hid my head within my hands, and tried to pray, but I could

not. The mind harassed by various conflicting thoughts is not in the

best mood for supplication. I felt like the criminal of whom I had once

read, that, when the confessor came to visit him the night before

his execution, seemed eager and attentive for a while, but at

last acknowledged that his thoughts were centred upon one only

theme,--escape! "To look steadfastly at the next world, you must

extinguish the light of this one;" and how difficult is that!--how

hard to close every chink and fissure through which hope may dart a

ray,--hope of life, hope of renewing the struggle in which we are so

often defeated, and where even the victory is without value!

"Be it so," sighed I, at last; "the game is up!" and I lay down at the

foot of a rock to die. My strength, long sustained by expectation, had

given way at last, and I felt that the hour of release could not be

distant. I drew my hand across my eyes,--I am ashamed to own there were

tears there--and just then, as if my vision had been cleared by the act,

I saw, or I thought I saw, in the plain beneath, the glittering sparkle

of flame. Was it the reflection of a star, of which thousands were now

studding the sky, in some pool of rain-water? No! it was real fire,

which now, from one red spark, burst forth into a great blaze, rolling

out volumes of black smoke which rose like a column into the air.

Were they Indians who made it, or trappers? or could it be the party in

whose track I had so long been following; and, if so, by what path had

they descended? Speculation is half-brother to Hope. No sooner had I

begun to canvass this proposition than it aroused my drooping energies,

and rallied my failing courage.

I set about to seek for some clew to the descent, and by the moonlight,

which was now full and strong, I detected foot-tracks in the clayey soil

near the verge of the cliff. A little after I found a narrow pathway,

which seemed to lead down the face of the bluff. The trees were

scratched, too, in many places with marks familiar to prairie

travellers, but which to me only betokened the fact that human hands had

been at work upon them. I gained courage by these, which at least I

knew were not "Indian signs," no more than the foot-tracks were those of

Indian feet.

The descent was tedious, and often perilous; the path, stopping abruptly

short at rocks, from which the interval to the next footing should be

accomplished by a spring, or a drop of several feet, was increased in

danger by the indistinct light. In the transit I received many a sore

bruise, and ere I reached the bottom my flannel drapery was reduced to a

string of rags which would have done no credit to a scarecrow.

When looking from the top of the cliff, the fire appeared to be

immediately at its foot; but now I perceived it stood about half a mile

off in the plain. Thither I bent my steps, half fearing, half hoping,

what might ensue. So wearied was I by the fatigue of the descent, added

to the long day's journey, that even in this short space I was often

obliged to halt and take rest. Exhaustion, hunger, and lassitude weighed

me down, till I went along with that half-despairing effort a worn-out

swimmer makes as his last before sinking.

A more pitiable object it would not be easy to picture. The blood oozing

from my wound, re-opened by the exertion, had stained my flannel dress,

which, ragged and torn, gave glimpses of a figure reduced almost to a

skeleton. My beard was long, adding to the seeming length of my gaunt

and lantern jaws, blue with fatigue and fasting. My shoes were in

tatters, and gave no protection to my bleeding feet; while my hands

were torn and cut by grasping the rocks and boughs in my descent.

Half-stumbling, half-tottering, I came onward till I found myself close

to the great fire, at the base of a mound--a "Prairie roll," as it is

called--which formed a shelter against the east wind.

Around the immense blaze sat a party, some of whom in shadow, others

in strong light, presented a group the strangest ever my eyes beheld.

Bronzed and bearded countenances, whose fierce expression glowed fiercer

in the ruddy glare of the fire, were set off by costumes the oddest

imaginable.

Many wore coats of undressed sheepskin, with tall caps of the same

material; others had ragged uniforms of different services. One or two

were dressed in "ponchos" of red-brown cloth, like Mexicans, and some,

again, had a kind of buff coat studded with copper ornaments,--a

costume often seen among the half-breeds. All agreed in one feature

of equipment, which was a broad leather belt or girdle, in which were

fastened various shining implements, of which a small pickaxe and a

hammer were alone distinguishable where I stood. Several muskets were

piled near them, and on the scorched boughs of the cedars hung a little

armory of cutlasses, pistols, and "bowies," from which I was able to

estimate the company at some twenty-eight or thirty in number. Packs and

knapsacks, with some rude cooking utensils, were strewn around; but

the great carcase of a deer which I saw in the flames, supported by a

chevaux-de-frise of ramrods, was the best evidence that the cares of

"cuisine" did not demand any unnecessary aid from "casseroles."

A couple of great earthen pitchers passed rapidly from hand to hand

round the circle, and, by the assistance of some blackhead, served to

beguile the time while the "roast" was being prepared.

Creeping noiselessly nearer, I gained a little clump of brushwood

scarcely more than half-a-dozen paces off, and then lay myself down to

listen what language they were speaking. At first the whole buzz seemed

one unmeaning jargon, more like the tongue of an Indian tribe than

anything else; but as I listened I could detect words of French,

Spanish, and German. Eager to make out some clew to what class they

might belong, I leaned forward on a bough and listened attentively. A

stray word, a chance phrase, could I but catch so much, would be enough;

and I bent my ear with the most watchful intensity. The spot I occupied

was the crest of the little ridge, or "Prairie roll," and gave me a

perfect view over the group, while the black smoke rolling upwards

effectually concealed me from _them_.

As I listened, I heard a deep husky voice say something in English.

It was only an oath, but it smacked of my country, and set my heart

a-throbbing powerfully. I lay out upon the branch to catch what might

follow, when smash went the frail timber, and, with a cry of terror,

down I rolled behind them. In a second every one was on his legs, while

a cry of "The jaguars! the jaguars!" resounded on all sides. The sudden

shock over, their discipline seemed perfect; for the whole party had

at once betaken themselves to their arms, and stood in a hollow square,

prepared to receive any attack. Meanwhile, the smoke and the falling

rubbish effectually shut me out from view. As these cleared away, they

caught sight of me, and truly never was a formidable file of musketry

directed upon a more pitiable object. Such seemed their own conviction;

for after a second or two passed in steady contemplation of me, the

whole group burst out into a roar of savage laughter. "What is't?"

"It's not human!" being the exclamations which, in more than one strange

tongue, were uttered.

Unable to speak, in part from terror, in part from shock, I sat up on

my knees, and, gesticulating with my hands, implored their mercy, and

bespoke my own defencelessness. I conclude that I made a very sorry

exhibition, for again the laughter burst forth in louder tones than

before, when one, taking a brand of the burning firewood, came nearer

to examine me. He threw down his torch, and, springing backward with

horror, screamed out, a "lépero!" a "lépero!" In a moment every musket

was again raised to the shoulder, and directed towards me.

"I'm not a lépero--never was!" cried I, in Spanish. "I'm a poor

Englishman who has made his escape from the Lazaretto." I could not

utter more, but fell powerless to the earth.

"I know him; we were messmates," cried a gruff voice. "Halt! avast

there! don't fire! I say, my lad, crawl over to leeward of the fire.

There, that will do. Dash a bucket of water over him, Perez."

Perez obeyed with a vengeance, for I was soaked to the skin, and at

the same time exposed to the scorching glare of the great fire, where I

steamed away like a swamp at sundown.

"A'n't you Cregan, I say?" cried the same English voice which spoke

before; "a'n't you little Con, as we used to call you?"

"Yes," said I, overjoyed by the recognition, without knowing by whom it

was made, "I am the little Con you speak of."

"Ah, I remembered your voice the moment I heard it," said he. "Don't you

remember me?"

"Caramba!" broke in a savage-looking Spaniard; "we 're not going to

catch a leprosy for the sake of your reminiscences. Tell the fellow to

move off, or I'll send a bullet through him."

"And I 'll follow you."

"And I; and I," cried two or three more, who, suiting the action to the

speech, threw back the pan of the flint-muskets to examine the priming.

"And shall I tell you what I 'll do?" said the Englishman. "I'll lay the

first fellow's skull open with this hanger that fires a shot at him."

"Will you so?" said a thin, athletic fellow, springing to his legs, and

drawing a long, narrow-bladed knife from his girdle.

"A truce there, Rivas," said another; "would you quarrel with the

Capitan for a miserable lépero?"

"He's not a Capitan of my making," said Rivas, sulkily.

"I don't care of whose making," said the Englishman, in his broken

Spanish; "I'm the leader of this expedition: if any one deny it, let him

stand out and say so. If half a dozen of you deny it, come out one by

one: I ask nothing better than to show you who's the best man here."

A low muttering followed this speech, but whether it were of admiration

or anger, I could not determine. Meanwhile my own resolve was formed,

as, gathering my limbs together, I rolled upon one knee and said,--

"Hear me for one instant, Señhors. It would be unworthy of you to

quarrel about an object so poor and worthless as I am. Although not a

lépero, I have made my escape from the Lazaretto, and travelled hither

on foot, with little clothing and less food: an hour or two more will

finish what fatigue and starving have all but accomplished. If you will

be kind enough to throw me a morsel of bread, and give me time to move

away, I'll try and do it; or, if you prefer doing the humane thing, you

'll come a few paces nearer and send a volley into me."

"I vote for the last," shouted one; but, strange to say, none

seconded his motion. A change had come over them, possibly by the very

recklessness of my own proposal. At last one called out, "Creep away

some fifty yards or so, and burn those rags of yours: we 'll give you

something to wear instead of them."

"Ay, just so," said another; "the poor devil doesn't deserve death for

what he's done."

"That's spoken like honest fellows and good comrades," said the

Englishman. "And now, my hearty, move down to leeward there, and put on

your new toggery, and we 'll see if a hot supper won't put some life in

you."

I could scarcely credit my own alacrity as this prospect of better

days inspired me with fresh vigor; I recovered my feet at once, and,

in something which I intended should resemble a trot, set out in the

direction indicated, and where already a small bundle of clothes had

been placed for my acceptance.

A piece of lighted charcoal and some firewood also apprised me of the

office required at my hands, and which I performed with a most hearty

good-will; and as I threw the odious rags into the flames, I felt that I

was saying adieu to the last tie that bound me to the horrible Lazaretto

of Bexar.

"Let him join us now," said the Englishman; "though I think if the poor

fellow has walked from Bexar, you might have been satisfied he could n't

carry the leprosy with him."

"I've known it go with a piece of gun-wadding from Bexar to the Rio del

Norte," said one.

"I saw a fellow who caught it from the rind of a watermelon a lépero had

thrown away."

"There was a comrade of ours at Puerta Naval took it from sitting on the

bench beside a well on the road where a lépero had been resting the day

before," cried a third.

"Let him sit yonder, then," said the Englishman "You 're more afeard

of that disease than the bite of a cayman; though you need n't be

squeamish, most of you, if it 'a your beauty you were thinking of."

And thus amid many a tale of the insidious character of this fell

disorder, and many a rude jest on the score of precaution against it, I

was ordered to seat myself at about a dozen or twenty paces distant, and

receive my food as it was thrown towards me by the others,--too happy at

this humble privilege to think of anything but the good fortune of such

a meeting.

"Don't you remember me yet?" cried the Englishman, standing where the

full glare of the fire lit up his marked features.

"Yes," said I, "you 're Halkett."

"To be sure I am, lad. I 'm glad you don't forget me."

"How should I? This is not the first time you saved my life."

"I scarcely thought I had succeeded so well," said he, "when we parted

last; but you must tell me all about that to-morrow, when you are rested

and refreshed. The crew here is not very unlike what you may remember

aboard the yacht: don't cross them, and you 'll do well with them."

"What are they?" said I, eagerly.

"Gambusinos," said he, in a low voice.

"Bandits?" whispered I, misconceiving the word.

"Not quite," rejoined he, laughing; "though, I've no doubt, ready to

raise a dollar that way if any one could be found in these wild parts

a little richer than themselves;" with this, he commended me to a sound

sleep, and the words were scarcely spoken ere I obeyed the summons.

Before day broke, I was aroused by the noise of approaching departure;

the band were strapping on knapsacks, slinging muskets, and making other

preparations for the march; Halkett, as their captain, carrying

nothing beyond his weapons, and in his air and manner assuming all the

importance of command.

The "Lépero," as I was called, was ordered to follow the column at

about a hundred paces to the rear; but as I was spared all burden, in

compassion to my weak state, I readily compounded for this invidious

position, by the benefits it conferred. A rude meal of rye-bread and

cold venison, with some coffee, made our breakfast, and away we started;

our path lying through the vast prairie I have already spoken of.

As during my state of "quarantine," which lasted seven entire days,

we continued to march along over a dreary tract of monotonous

desolation,--nothing varying the dull uniformity of each day's journey,

save the chance sight of a distant herd of buffaloes, the faint traces

of an Indian war-party, or the blackened embers of a bivouac,--I will

not weary my readers by dwelling on my own reflections as I plodded on:

enough, when I say they were oftener sad than otherwise. The uncertainty

regarding the object of my fellow-travellers harassed my mind by a

thousand odd conjectures. It was clear they were not merchants, neither

could they be hunters, still less a "war-party,"--one of those marauding

bands which on the Texan frontier of Mexico levy "black-mail" upon the

villagers, on the plea of a pretended protection against the Indians.

Although well armed, neither their weapons, their discipline, nor, still

less, their numbers, argued in favor of this suspicion. What they could

possibly be, then, was an insurmountable puzzle to me. I knew they were

called Gambusinos,--nothing more. Supposing that some of my readers

may not be wiser than I then was, let me take this opportunity, while

traversing the prairie, to say in a few words what they were.

The Gambusinos are the gold-seekers of the New World,--a class who,

in number and importance, divide society with the "Vaqueros," the

cattle-dealers, into two almost equal sections. Too poor to become

possessors of mines, without capital for enterprise on a larger scale,

they form bands of wandering discoverers, traversing the least-known

districts of the Sonora, and spending years of life in the wildest

recesses of the Rocky Mountains. Associating together generally from

circumstances purely accidental, they form little communities, subject

to distinct laws; and however turbulent and rebellious under ordinary

control, beneath the sway of the self-chosen leaders they are reputed to

be submissive and obedient.

Their skill is, as may be judged, rude as their habits, they rarely

carry their researches to any depth beneath the surface; some general

rules are all their guidance, and these are easily acquired. They are

all familiar with the fact that the streams which descend from the

Rocky Mountains, either towards the Atlantic or Pacific, carry in their

autumnal floods vast masses of earth, which form deposits in the plains;

that these deposits are often charged with precious ores, and sometimes

contain great pieces of pure gold. They know, besides, that the quartz

rock is the usual bed where the precious metals are found, and that

these rocks form spurs from the large mountains, easily known, because

they are never clothed by vegetation, and called in their phraseology

"Crestones."

A sharp short stroke of the "barreta," the iron-shod staff of the

Gambusino, soon shivers the rock where treasure is suspected; and, the

fragments being submitted to the action of a strong fire, the existence

of gold is at once tested. Often the mere stroke of the barreta will

display the shining lustre of the metal without more to do. Such is, for

the most part, the extent of their skill.

There are, of course, gradations even here; and some will distinguish

themselves above their fellows in the detection of profitable sources

and rich "crestones," while others rarely rise above the rank of mere

"washers,"--men employed to sift the sands and deposits of the rivers in

which the chief product is gold-dust.

Such, then, is the life of a "Gambusino." In this pursuit he traverses

the vast continent of South America from east to west, crossing

torrents, scaling cliffs, descending precipices, braving hunger, thirst,

heat, and snow, encountering hostile Indians and the not less terrible

bands of rival adventurers, contesting for existence with the wild

animals of the desert, and generally at last paying with his life the

price of his daring intrepidity. Few, indeed, are ever seen as old

men among their native villages; nearly all have found their last rest

beneath the scorching sand of the prairie.

Upon every other subject than that of treasure-seeking, their minds were

a perfect blank. For _them_, the varied resources of a land abounding

in the products of every clime, had no attraction. On the contrary, the

soil which grew the maize, indigo, cotton, the sugar-cane, coffee, the

olive, and the vine, seemed sterile and barren, since in such regions no

_gold_ was ever found. The wondrous fertility of that series of terraces

which, on the Andes, unite the fruits of the torrid zone with the

lichens of the icy North, had no value in the estimation of men who

acknowledged but one wealth, and recognized but one idol. _Their_ hearts

turned from the glorious vegetation of this rich garden to the dry

courses of the torrents that fissure the Cordilleras, or the stony

gorges that intersect the Rocky Mountains.

The life of wild and varied adventure, too, that they led was associated

with these deserted and trackless wastes. To them, civilization

presented an aspect of slavish subjection and dull uniformity; while

in the very vicissitudes of their successes there was the excitement

of gambling: rich to-day, they vowed a lamp of solid gold to the

"Virgin,"--to-morrow, in beggary, they braved the terrors of sacrilege

to steal from the very altar they had themselves decorated. What strange

and wondrous narratives did they recount as we wandered over that

swelling prairie!

Many avowed that their own misdeeds had first driven them to the life

of the deserts; and one who had lived for years a prisoner among the

Choctaws confessed that his heart still lingered with the time when he

had sat as a chief beside the war-fire, and planned stratagems

against the tribe of the rival Pawnees. To men of hardy and energetic

temperament, recklessness has an immense fascination. Life is so often

in peril, they cease to care much for whatever endangers it; and

thus, through all their stories, the one feeling ever predominated,--a

careless indifference to every risk coupled with a most resolute conduct

in time of danger.