Caspar has been mistaken in supposing the other two asleep. One of them
is--Ludwig, who sleeps soundly, and to all appearance peacefully. Not
that he is indifferent to the seriousness of the situation, or less
anxious about the upshot, than Cypriano. He but slumbers, because he is
naturally of a more somnolent habit than his cousin, as also, being the
weaker of the two, from the effects of a journey so long sustained, and
travelling at such a pace. Moreover, he is not even yet quite recovered
from the damage done him by the gymnoti; their electricity still acting
on his nervous system, and producing a certain lassitude.
There is yet another reason why Ludwig has let himself go to sleep--one
of a moral nature. As is known, he still adheres to his belief in the
fidelity of Naraguana, and, so believing, is least of them all
apprehensive about the result. At this moment he may be dreaming of the
old _cacique_, though little dreams he that his dead body is so near!
Altogether different is it with Cypriano. This night there is no sleep
for him, nor does he think of taking any. Though he lay down alongside
his cousin, wrapping himself in his poncho, he did not long remain
recumbent. Instead, soon starting to his feet again, he has been pacing
to and fro under the fig-tree, wondering where Gaspar has gone. For, as
known, the gaucho had slipped off without making noise, or saying word.
Missing him, the young Paraguayan would call out his name. But he fears
to raise his voice, lest it reach other ears than those for which it was
intended. Reflecting, moreover, that Gaspar is pretty sure to have some
good reason for absenting himself, and that his absence will not likely
be for long, he awaits his return in silence. Therefore, when the
gaucho in coming back draws nigh to the fig-tree, he sees a form within
the periphery of its shadow, that of Cypriano, standing ready to receive
him. The latter first speaks, asking: "Where have you been, Gaspar?"
"Oh! only taking a turn among the tombs."
"And you've seen something among them to make you uneasy?"
"Why do you say that, Senorito?"
"Because I can see it in your countenance." The gaucho, as he
approaches, has the moon full upon his face, and by her light the other
has observed the troubled look.
"What is it?" the youth goes on to ask, in a tone of eager anxiety, all
the more from seeing that the other hesitates to give the explanation.
"You've discovered something--a new danger threatens us? Come, Gaspar,
you may as well tell me of it at once."
"I intend telling you, _hijo mio_. I was only waiting till we were all
three together. For now, I think, we'll have to rouse Master Ludwig.
You've conjectured aright, as I'm sorry to say. I _have_ seen something
that's not as we would wish it. Still, it may not be so bad as I've
been making it."
Notwithstanding this hopeful proviso, Cypriano is himself now really
alarmed; and, impatient to learn what the new danger is, he stoops down
over his cousin, takes hold of his arm, and shakes him out of his
slumbers.
Ludwig, starting to his feet, confusedly inquires why he has been
disturbed. Then Gaspar, coming close to them, so that he need not speak
in a loud voice, gives an account of what he has discovered, with his
own views relating to it.
As he himself did, both the boys at once comprehend the changed
situation, with a like keen sense of the heightened danger to result
from it. Naraguana's death has extinguished all hope of help from him.
It may be both the cause and forecast of their own!
Their prospects are now gloomy indeed; but they do not idly dwell on
them, or give way to utter despondency. That would be unavailing;
besides, there is no time for it. Something must be done to meet the
altered circumstances. But what? A question to which none of them
makes an immediate answer, since none can.
For awhile all three stand silent, considering. Only a short while,
when Gaspar is again stirred to activity, by reflecting that even now
they are not safe. One of their horses, frightened by an owl that has
flapped its wings close to its face, has snorted, striking the hard
ground with his hoof, and making a noise that reverberates throughout
the cemetery, echoing among the scaffolds. What if he should set to
neighing, in answer to that which now and then comes up from the town
below? The thing is too probable, and the result manifest. A single
neigh might betray them; for what would horses be doing up there upon
the sacred hill? So would any Indian ask who should chance to hear it.
"We must muffle our animals," says Caspar. "And what's more, take them
back to the other side, where we came up. There we can better conceal
them among the bushes. Besides, if it should come to our being under
the necessity of a speedy retreat, we'll be nearer to the back-track,
and have a fairer chance of getting off. Senoritos! get your jergas,
and wrap them round your horses' heads."
He sets the example by so disposing of his own; and, accustomed to quick
action in matters of the kind, all three soon have their animals
"tapado." Then, leading them across to where the path ascends on the
opposite side, they place them under cover of some thick bushes growing
near by, Caspar saying:
"They'll be safe enough here, I take it; at all events till the morning.
Then we may move them elsewhere, and if we're to have a run for it,
remember, _hijos mios_, 'twill be a race for our lives. There's no
Naraguana now to stand between us and that young wolf, who I fear has
got the dear little lamb in his clutches, so fast we'll have great--"
The effect of his words are such, upon those listening to them, that he
suddenly interrupts himself in what he was about to say, and in changed
tone continues: "_Carramba_! we'll rescue her yet, Naraguana, or no
Naraguana. It can be done without him, and I think I know the way."
In saying so, Caspar is practising a slight deception, his object being
to cheer his young companions, over whom his last speech seemed to cast
the gloom of despair. For he has as yet thought of no way, nor
conceived any definite plan of action. When asked by Cypriano to
explain himself, he is silent; and appealed to, he answers by evasion.
The truth is, that up to the instant of his finding Naraguana's body
upon the scaffold, he too had been trusting all to what the latter would
do for them; and no more than Ludwig could he believe the good old chief
to have turned traitor to the palefaced friend so long under his
protection, much less connived at his assassination. Now, the gaucho
knows he has had no hand either in the murder of his master, or the
abduction of that master's daughter. These events must have occurred
subsequent to his death, and, while they were in the act of occurrence,
Naraguana was sleeping his last sleep under his plumed _manta_ upon that
elevated platform. His son and successor--for Gaspar doubts not that
Aguara has succeeded him in the chieftainship--is answerable for the
deed of double crime, whoever may have been his aiders and abettors.
Of course, this makes the case all the more difficult to deal with,
since the new _cacique_, by this time established in full plenitude of
power, will have it all his own way, and can carry things with a high
hand, as he most surely will. To make appeal to him for the restitution
of the captive would be manifestly idle, like asking a tiger to
surrender the prey it holds between its teeth or in its claws. The
gaucho has no thought of so appealing, any more than either of the
others. And no more than they has he formed a plan of future action.
Only now, after their disposal of the horses, is his brain busy in the
conception of some scheme suited to the changed circumstances; and
hence, on Cypriano asking him to tell the way he knew of, he but replies
evasively, saying:
"Be patient, Senorito! Wait till we've got things a little snug, then
I'll take pleasure in telling you. But we mustn't remain here. On the
other side of this queer cemetery, where the road runs down to the
_tolderia_--as I've no doubt there is such--that will be the place for
us to spend the night in. There we can see and hear what passes on the
plain, and should any one stray up we'll be warned of it, either by our
eyes or ears, in good time to get out of their way. So let us cross
over. And we must step silently," he adds, pointing to the _cacique's_
scaffold tomb, "lest we disturb the sleep of old Naraguana, up yonder."
With this facetious remark, made partly in the indulgence of his usual
humour, but as much to raise the spirits of his young companions, he
strides off among the odd structures, making direct for the other side
of the cemetery, Ludwig and Cypriano following in single file.