An odd spectacle the trio of trackers would afford to anyone seeing them
on the _salitral_ now, without knowing what they are at; one riding
directly in the wake and on the track of the other, with over a hundred
yards between each pair. And, as all are going at full gallop, it might
be supposed that the foremost is fleeing from the other two--one of the
pursuers having a blown horse and fallen hopelessly behind!
Nor do they proceed in silence. Instead, the hindmost is heard to utter
loud shouts which the one midway repeats, as if in echo; while he ahead
alone says nothing. Even this would strengthen the supposition of its
being a chase; the pursued party speechless from the intensity of his
fears, and the effort he is making to escape his pursuers.
One near enough, however, to note the expression upon the faces of all
three, and hear the words spoken, would know that the three galloping
horsemen, though oddly apart, are in friendly communication with one
another. Since in their shouts, though loud, is nothing to tell of
hostility or anger. Nor yet any great variety of speech--only the two
words, "right" and "left;" these uttered at short but irregular
intervals, first by the hindmost, then taken up by the one riding
midway, and passed on to him who leads; the last, as he hears them,
shaping his course in accordance.
In this quaint fashion they have proceeded several leagues, when the
leader, Ludwig, is seen to swerve suddenly to the left, without any
direction having reached him from behind; this, too, at an angle of full
fifty degrees.
"Right!" calls Cypriano from the rear, the tone of his voice telling of
surprise, while the same is visible on his face.
Gaspar repeats the word in like accent of astonishment. Cypriano once
more vociferating, "Right! to the right!"
But, although Ludwig must have heard them both, to neither gives he ear,
nor pays the slightest attention to the directions called out to him.
Instead, he still holds on in the new course, which he seems to have
chosen for himself.
Has his horse shied, and escaped from his control? That is the first
thought of the other two, who by this time have both reined up, and sit
looking after him. Then a more painful apprehension forces itself upon
them; he may have gone astray in another sense, than from the track he
should have taken. Is he still under the influence of the animal
electricity, which might account for his seemingly eccentric behaviour?
For eccentric it certainly appears, if not something worse--as indeed
they half-suspect it to be.
While they continue watching him, they see, as well as hear, what goes
far towards confirming their suspicions. For after galloping some two
or three hundred yards, and without once looking back, he suddenly pulls
up, raises the hat from his head, and holding it aloft, waves it round
and round, all the while uttering cries as of one in a frenzy!
"_Pobrecito_!" mutters Gaspar to himself, "the excitement has been too
much for him. So long on the strain--no wonder. _Ay de mi_? Another
of that poor family doomed--and to worse than death!"
At the same time Cypriano is reflecting in a somewhat similar fashion,
though he makes no remark. The strange exhibition saddens him beyond
the power of speech. His cousin has gone crazed!
They had headed their horses, and were about to ride rapidly after, when
they saw him stop; and now moving gently forward with their eyes on him,
they see him replace the cap upon his head, and bend downward, with gaze
given to the ground. Some new fancy dictated by a disordered brain,
think they. What will he do next? What will they see?
And what _do_ they see on drawing nearer to him? That which makes both
of them feel foolish enough; at the same time that it rejoices them to
think they have been the victims of a self-deception. For before they
are quite up to the spot where he has halted, they perceive a large
space of whitish colour, where the surface mud has been tossed and mixed
up with the substratum of saltpetre--all done by the hoofs of horses, as
even at a distance they can tell.
"Come along here, you laggards!" cries Ludwig in a tone of triumph;
"I've something to show you. Feast your eyes upon this!"
While speaking he nods to the ground by his horse's head, indicating the
disturbed tract; then, adding as he raises his hand, and points
outward--
"And on that!"
The "that" he refers to is a white list leading away westward as far as
they can see--evidently the trail taken by those they are in pursuit of.
Long ere this, both Gaspar and Cypriano have full comprehension of what
perplexed while alarming them. But neither says a word of the
suspicions they had entertained concerning him. Each in his own mind
has resolved never to speak of them, the gaucho, as he comes up again,
crying out--
"Bravo!" then adding with an air of gracious humility, "So, Senor
Ludwig, you, too, have beaten me! Beaten us all! You've set us on the
right trail now; one which, if I mistake not, will conduct us to the end
of our journey, without need of sunshine, or any other contrivance."
"And that end," interposes Cypriano, "will be in a town or camp of Tovas
Indians, at the tent of the scoundrel Aguara;" then, adding excitedly,
"Oh! that I were there now!"
"Have patience, _hijo mio_," counsels Gaspar; "you'll be there in good
time, and that very soon. For, from something I remember, I don't think
we've much more journey to make. But before proceeding further, let us
take a look at this curious thing here, and see what we can make of it.
Besides, our animals need breathing a bit."
So saying, he dismounts, as do the others; and leaving their horses to
stand at rest, all three commence examination of the tract which shows
stirred and trampled.
They see hoof-marks of horses--scores of them--all over the ground for
the space of several perches, and pointed in every direction; among them
also the foot-prints of men, with here and there smooth spots as if
where human bodies had reclined. That both men and horses had been
there is evident, and that they had gone off by the trace running
westward, equally so. But how they came thither is a question not so
easily answered; since the same halting-place shows no track of either
horse or man leading towards it!
Odd all this might appear, indeed inexplicable, to one unacquainted with
the nature of a dust-storm, or unaware of the incidents which have
preceded. But to Gaspar, the gaucho, everything is as clear as
daylight; and, after a short inspection of the "sign," he thus
truthfully interprets it:--
"The redskins had just got thus far, when the _tormenta_ came on. It
caught them here, and that's why we see these smooth patches; they lay
down to let it blow by. Well; there's one good turn it's done us: we
now know the exact time they passed this spot; or, at all events, when
they were on it. That must have been just after we entered the cave,
and were engaged with the _tigre_--I mean it Number 1. No doubt by the
time we tackled the old Tom, they were off again. As, you see,
_muchachos_, some little rain has sprinkled that trail since they passed
over it, which shows they went away in the tail of that terrific shower.
So," he adds, turning round, and stepping back towards his horse,
"there's nothing more to be done but ride off after them; which we may
now do as rapidly as our animals can carry us."
At this they all remount, and setting their horses' heads to the Indian
trail, proceed upon it at a brisk pace; no longer travelling tandem, but
broadly abreast.