While the gaucho and his silent companion were still in halt by the edge
of the _sumac_ wood, another horseman could be seen approaching the
place, but on the opposite side of the stream, riding direct down to the
ford. Descried at any distance, his garb, with the caparison of his
horse--the full gaucho panoply of bitted bridle, breast-plate, _recado_,
and _caronilla_--would tell he is not an Indian. Nor is he; since this
third traveller, so early on the road, is Rufino Valdez. As
commissioner to the Tovas tribe, he has executed the commission with
which he was entrusted, with something besides; and is now on return to
make report to his master, El Supremo, leaving the latter to take such
other steps as may deem desirable.
The _vaqueano_ has passed the preceding night with the Indians at their
camp, leaving it long before daybreak, though Aguara, for certain
reasons, very much wished him to return with them to their town, and
proposed it. A proposal, for reasons of his own, the cunning Paraguayan
declined, giving excuses that but ill satisfied the young cacique, and
which he rather reluctantly accepted. He could not, however, well
refuse to let Valdez go his way. The man was not a prisoner moreover,
his promise to be soon back, as the bearer of rich presents, was an
argument irresistible; and influenced by this, more than aught else,
Aguara gave him permission to depart.
The young chief's reasons for wishing to detain him were of a kind
altogether personal. Much as he likes the captive he is carrying with
him, he would rather she had been made captive by other means, and in a
less violent manner. And he is now returning to his tribe, not so
triumphantly, but with some apprehension as to how he will be received
by the elders. What will they say when the truth is told them,--all the
details of the red tragedy just enacted? He would lay the blame, where
most part of it properly belongs, on the shoulders of the Paraguayan,
and, indeed, intends doing so. But he would rather have the latter with
him to meet the storm, should there be such, by explaining in his own
way, why he killed the other white man. For Valdez had already said
something to them of an old hostility between himself and the
hunter-naturalist, knowing that the Tovas, as well as other Chaco
Indians, acknowledge the rights of the _vendetta_.
But just for the reason Aguara desires to have him along with him, is
the _vaqueano_ inclined to die opposite course; in truth, determined
upon it. Not for the world would he now return to the Tovas town. He
has too much intelligence for that, or too great regard for his safety--
his very life, which he believes, and with good cause, would be more
than risked, were he again to show himself among a people whose
hospitality he has so outraged. For he knows he as done this, and that
there will surely be that storm of which the young cacique is
apprehensive--a very tempest of indignation among the elders and friends
of the deceased Naraguana, when they hear of the fate which has befallen
the harmless stranger, so long living under their late chiefs
protection. Therefore, notwithstanding the many promises he has made,
not the slightest thought of performing any of them, or even going back
on that trail, has Rufino Valdez. Instead, as he rides down the ford of
the stream he is thinking to himself, it will be the last time he will
have to wade across it, gleeful at the thought of having so well
succeeded in what brought him over it at all. Pondering on something
besides, another deed of infamy yet to be done, but for which he will
not have to come so far up the Pilcomayo.
In spite of his self-gratulation, and the gleams of a joy almost
Satanic, which now and then light up his dark sinister countenance, he
is not without some apprehensions; this is made manifest by his
behaviour as he rides along. Although making what haste he can, he does
not rush on in a reckless or careless manner. On the contrary, with due
caution, at every turn of the path, stopping and making survey of each
new reach before entering upon it. This he did, as the ford opened to
his view, keeping under cover of the bushes, till assured there was no
one there; then, striking out into the open ground, and riding rapidly
for it. And while wading across the stream, his eyes are not upon the
water, but sweeping the bank up and down with glances of keen scrutiny.
As he sees no one there, nor the sign of anyone having been--for it is
not yet daylight, and too dark for him to note the tracks of Gaspar's
horse--he says with a satisfied air, "They're not likely to be coming
after the missing pair at so early an hour. Besides, it's too soon.
They'll hardly be setting them down as lost till late last night, and so
couldn't have tracked them on here yet."
Riding up out of the water, he once more draws rein by its edge, and
sits regarding the _sumac_ grove with an expression in his eyes
strangely repulsive.
"I've half a mind to go up in there," he mutters, "and see how things
stand. I wasn't altogether satisfied with the way we left them, and
there's just a possibility he may be still alive. The girl gave so much
trouble in getting them parted, I couldn't be quite sure of having
killed him outright. If not, he might manage to crawl away, or they
coming after in search of him--_Carrai_! I'll make sure now. It can
only delay me a matter of ten minutes, and," he adds glancing up at the
blade of his spear, "if need be, another thrust of this."
Soon as forming his devilish resolve, the assassin gives his horse a
prick of the spur, and passes on towards the _sumac_ grove, entering at
the same place as before, like a tiger skulking back to the quarry it
has killed, and been chased away from.
Once inside the thicket, he proceeds along the _tapir_ path, groping his
way in the darkness. But he remembers it well, as well he may; and
without going astray arrives at a spot he has still better reason to
recall; that where, but a little more than twelve hours before, he
supposes himself to have committed murder! Delayed along the narrow
tortuous track, some time has elapsed since his entering among the
_sumacs_. Only a short while, but long enough to give him a clearer
light, for the day has meanwhile dawned, and the place is less shadowed,
for it is an open spot where the sanguinary struggle took place.
It is sufficiently clear for him, without dismounting, to distinguish
objects on the ground, and note, which at a glance he does, that one he
expected to see is not to be seen. No murdered man there; no body,
living or dead!