Soon as Nacena had started on return to the town, the gaucho and his
companions commence making preparations to descend from the hill. Not
by the road leading down to the _tolderia_, but the path by which they
came up. For before her parting with them the Indian girl and Gaspar
had held further speech; she imparting to him additional information of
how things stood in the tribe; he, in turn, giving her more detailed
instructions how to act, in the event of her being able to obtain an
interview with the paleface captive, and to get her off from the place
where confined. In the programme arranged between them, the final part
to be played by Nacena would be her conducting her charge round to the
other side of the hill, where the rescuers would be in waiting to
receive her. Delivered to them, the action of the Indian girl would be
at end, so far as that affair was concerned, while theirs had yet to be
considered.
The place where they were to await her was, of course, mutually
understood--by the entrance to the uphill path, under the great _ceiba_
tree. Nacena knew it well, having oft traversed that path, reclined in
the shadow of the tree, and played under it from the earliest days of
childhood. For it was a pretty spot, much-frequented by the younger
members of the community when out for promenade on the plain, or nutting
among the palm-groves that studded it. A sort of rendezvous, or
stopping place, from the two routes to the town here diverging; the
shorter, though by far the more difficult, being that over the Cemetery
Hill. Of the roundabout one, Gaspar, of course, had no knowledge. But
he knew the _ceiba_, and the way back to it, all that they needed. The
girl had trodden both, hundreds of times, and was acquainted with their
every reach and turning. She would come anyhow, and no fear of her not
finding the way; their only fear was of her coming unaccompanied.
Least of all has Ludwig this apprehension; instead, full confidence that
the Indian will will bring Francesca back with her. Strange this; but
stranger still, that, while overjoyed with the thought of his sister
being delivered from captivity, his joy should have a tinge of sadness
in it, like a mingling of shadow and sun. This due to his suspicion of
the motives actuating her who has promised to be his sister's deliverer.
Nacena is not their friend for mere friendship's sake; nor his, because
of the former fellowship between him and her own brother. Instead,
jealousy is her incentive, and what she is doing, though it be to their
benefit, is but done for the thwarting of Aguara.
Though Ludwig has expressed his opinion that they will soon see
Francesca, he is silent about these suspicions. There is no time to
speak of them if he would. For in a few seconds after Nacena's
separating from them, Gaspar gives the signal for action, and all three
become engaged in getting ready their horses for a return to the plain.
"_Por Dios_!" mutters the gaucho, while slipping on his bridle. "I
don't much fancy remaining longer in this melancholy place. Though high
and airy, it mayn't be wholesome. If, after all, that brown beauty
should change her mind, and play us false, we'd be in a bad predicament
up here--a regular trap, with no chance of retreating from it. So the
sooner we're back to the bottom of the hill, the safer 'twill be. There
we'll at least have some help from the speed of our horses, if in the
end we have to run for it. Let us get below at once!"
Having by this finished adjusting his bridle, he hands the rein to
Cypriano, adding--
"You hold this, senorito, while I go after Shebotha. Botheration take
that old hag! She'll be a bother to us, to say nothing of the extra
weight for our poor horses. After all, she's not very heavy--only a bag
of bones."
"But, Gaspar; are you in earnest about our taking her along with us?"
asks Cypriano.
"How are we to help it, _hijo mio_! If we leave her here, she'd be back
in the town before we could get started; that is, if we have the good
luck to get started at all. I needn't point out what would be the
upshot of that. Pursuit, as a matter of course, pell mell, and
immediate. True, we might leave her tied to the post, and muffled as
she is. But then she'd be missed by to-morrow morning, if not sooner,
and they'd be sure to look for her up here. No likelier place for such
as she, among these scaffolds; except tied to a scaffold of another
sort, and in a somewhat different style."
The gaucho pauses, partly to enjoy his own jest, at which he is
grinning, and partly to consider whether Shebotha can be disposed of in
any other way.