In a rush Aguara goes, fast as his animal can be urged by heel and
voice. For, while so roughly separating the two girls, these had
shouted in alarm, and his ear had caught other cries raised at a
distance, and as if responsive. Now he hears them again; men's voices,
and mingling with them the trampling of hoofs--clearly several horses
coming on in a gallop. She, he has in his arms, hears them too, but
listens not in silence or unresisting. Instead, she struggles and
shrieks, calling "Help, help!" with the names "Ludwig, Cypriano,
Gaspar!"
She is heard by all three; for it is they who responded to the cries of
herself and Nacena, knowing who gave utterance to them. Near they are
now, and riding as in a race; they, too, pressing their horses to utmost
speed. But the darkness is against them, as their ignorance of the
ground, with which the man pursued is familiar. By this, at every step,
they are obstructed; and but for the screams of Francesca, still
continued, might as well abandon the chase for any chance they have of
overtaking him.
And overtake him they never would, nor could, were fortune not in their
favour. An accident it may appear; at the same time seeming a divine
retribution for wrong--a very Nemesis in the path of the wicked Aguara.
On returning past the spot where he had struck down Shebotha's slave, he
sees the unfortunate man stretched along the ground, and, to all
appearance, still insensible. Nought cares he for that, but his horse
does; and, at sight of the prostrate form, the animal, with a snort of
affright, shies to one side, and strikes off in a new direction. Going
at so swift a pace, and in such a dim light, in a few bounds it enters
among some bushes, where it is brought up standing. Before its rider
can extricate it, a strong hand has hold of it by the head, with a thumb
inserted into its nostrils, while the fingers of another are clutching
at his own throat. The hand on the horse's muzzle is that of Caspar the
gaucho, the fingers that grope to get a gripe on the rider's neck being
those of Cypriano.
It is a crisis in the life of the young Tovas _cacique_, threatening
either death or captivity. But subtle as all Indians are, and base as
any common fellow of his tribe, instead of showing a bold front, he
eludes both, by letting go the captive girl, himself slipping to the
ground, and, snake like, gliding off among the bushes.
On the other side of his horse, which he has also abandoned, Francesca
falls into the arms of her brother, who embraces her with wild delight.
Though not wilder, nor half so thrilling, as that which enraptures the
ear of Cypriano--to whose arms she is on the instant after transferred.
But it is not a time for embraces, however affectionate, nor words to be
wasted in congratulation. So Gaspar tells them, while urging instant
departure from that perilous spot.
"Our lucky star's gone up again," he says, with a significant nod to
Aguara's horse, which he has still hold of. "There is now four of us;
and as I take it this brisk little _musteno_ is fairly our property,
there'll be no need for any of us riding double--to say nothing of one
having a witch behind his back. Without such incumbrance, it'll be so
much the better for the saving of time; which at this present moment
presses, with not the hundredth part of a second to spare. So _hijos
mios_, and you, _hija mia querida_, let us mount and be off!"
While the gaucho is yet thus jocularly delivering himself, Cypriano has
lifted his cousin, Francesca, to the back of the _cacique's_ abandoned
steed; on which he well knows she can keep her seat, were it the wildest
that ever careered across _campo_. Then he remounts his own, the other
two taking to their saddles at the same time.
A word about the route, and all four start together; not to go back
along the trail towards the _ceiba_ tree, but striking straight out for
the open plain, in a direction which Gaspar conjectures to be the right
one.
They would willingly diverge from it to ascertain whether the poor
creature clubbed by Aguara be dead or still living; and, if the latter,
take him along. But Gaspar urges the danger of delay; above all, being
burdened with a man not only witless, but now in all likelihood disabled
by a wound which would make the transporting him an absolute
impossibility.
Ludwig and his sister are more desirous to turn aside, and learn how it
is with Nacena. But again the gaucho, no: greatly given to sentiment,
objects. Luckily, as if to relieve them from all anxiety, just then
they hear a voice, which all recognise as that of the Tovas belle,
calling out in tolerably pure Castilian:--
"_Va con Dios_!"
Standing up in his stirrups, with a shout and counter salute, the gaucho
returns the valediction; then, spurring forward and placing himself at
the head of the retreating party, they ride on, with no thought of again
halting so long as their horses can keep their feet.