THE TRAGEDY AT THE FONDA.
I could not help wondering, as I glanced at aunt whether she had heard and
understood the meaning of those wild Gauchos' warning. If she did she made
no sign. But aunt is a M'Crimman, and the sister of a bold Highland chief.
She would not _show_ fear even if she _felt_ it. Yes, the brave may feel
fear, but the coward alone is influenced by it.
Old Jenny had gone to sleep, so I said good-bye to aunt, nodded to Aileen,
and went back to my waggon once more.
We made good progress that day, though we did not hurry. We stopped to
feed our cattle, and to rest and feed ourselves. The jolting had been
terrible on some parts of the road. But now the sun was getting very low
indeed, and as we soon came to a piece of high, hard ground, with a view
of the country round us for miles, we determined to bivouac for the
night.
The horses and mules were hobbled and turned off to graze under the charge
of sentry Gauchos. No fear of their wandering off far. They were watered
not an hour ago, and would be fresh by daybreak.
Now, Moncrieff had been too long in the wilds to neglect precautions while
camping out. I had taken an early opportunity to-day to interview our
leader concerning the report that Indians were abroad.
'Ah!' he answered, 'you heard and understood what that half-breed said,
then?'
'Just a word or two. He appeared to give us a warning of some kind. Is it
of any account?'
'Well, there's always some water where the stirkie drowns; there's always
some fire where you see smoke; and it is better to be sure than sorry.'
I could elicit no more information from my canny countryman than that. I
said nothing to any one, not even my brothers. Why should I cause them the
slightest alarm, and speak a word that might tend to make them sleep less
soundly?
However, as soon as the halt was made, I was glad to see that Moncrieff
took every precaution against a surprise. The caravan was made the centre
of a square, the waggons being 'laggered' around it. The fire was lit and
the dinner cooked close beside a sheltering _barranca_, and as soon as
this meal was discussed the fire was extinguished.
'Then came still evening on,'
and we all gathered together for prayer. Even the Gauchos were summoned,
though I fear paid but little attention, while Moncrieff, standing
bare-headed in the midst of us, read a chapter from the Book by the pale
yellow light of the western sky. Then, still standing--
'Brothers, let us pray,' he said.
Erect there, with the twilight shadows falling around him, with open eyes
and face turned skywards, with the sunset's after-glow falling on his hard
but comely features, his plaid depending from his broad shoulders, I could
not help admiring the man. His prayer--and it was but brief--had all the
trusting simplicity of a little child's, yet it was in every way the
prayer of a man communing with his God; in every tone thereof was breathed
belief, reliance, gratitude, and faith in the Father.
As he finished, Dugald pressed my arm and pointed eastwards, smiling. A
star had shone out from behind a little cloud, and somehow it seemed to
me as if it were an angel's eye, and that it would watch over us all the
live-long night. Our evening service concluded with that loveliest of
hymns, commencing--
'O God of Bethel, by whose hand
Thy children still are fed;
Who through this weary wilderness
Hath all our fathers led.'
He gave it out in the old Scotch way, two lines at a time, and to the tune
'Martyrdom.'
It was surely appropriate to our position and our surroundings, especially
that beautiful verse--
'Oh, spread Thy covering wings around,
Till all our wanderings cease,
And at our Father's loved abode
Our souls arrive in peace.'
We now prepared for rest. The sentries were set, and in a short time all
was peace and silence within our camp. More than once during the night the
collies--dogs brought out by Moncrieff's men--gave an uneasy bark or two,
their slumbers being probably disturbed by the cry of some night bird, or
the passing of a prowling fox.
So, wrapped in our guanaco robes--the benefit of which we felt now--my
brothers and I slept sweetly and deeply till the sun once more rose in the
east.
Soon all was bustle and stir again.
Thus were our days spent on the road, thus our evenings, and eke our
nights. And at the end of some days we were still safe and sound, and
happy. No one sick in the camp; no horse or mule even lame; while we were
all hardening to travel already.
So far, hardly anything had happened to break the even tenour of our
journey. Our progress, however, with so much goods and chattels, and over
such roads, was necessarily slow; yet we never envied the lumbering
diligence that now and then went rattling past us.
We saw many herds of wild horses. Some of these, led by beautiful
stallions, came quite close to us. They appeared to pity our horses
and mules, condemned to the shafts and harness, and compelled to work
their weary lives away day after day. Our beasts were slaves. They were
free--free as the breezes that blew over the pampas and played with
their long manes, as they went thundering over the plains. We had seen
several ostriches, and my brothers and I had enjoyed a wild ride or
two after them. Once we encountered a puma, and once we saw an
armadillo. We had never clapped eyes on a living specimen before, but
there could be no mistaking the gentleman in armour. Not that he gave us
much time for study, however. Probably the creature had been asleep as
we rounded the corner of a gravel bank, but in one moment he became
alive to his danger. Next moment we saw nothing but a rising cloud of
dust and sand; lo! the armadillo was gone to the Antipodes, or somewhere
in that direction--buried alive. Probably the speed with which an
armadillo--there are several different species in the Silver
West--disappears at the scent of any one belonging to the _genus homo_,
is caused by the decided objection he has to be served up as a side-dish.
He is excellent eating--tender as a chicken, juicy as a sucking-pig, but
the honour of being roasted whole and garnished is one he does not crave.
Riding on ahead one day--I had soon got tired of the monotony of driving,
and preferred the saddle--at a bend of the road I came suddenly upon two
horsemen, who had dismounted and were lying on a patch of sward by the
roadside. Their horses stood near. Both sprang up as I appeared, and quick
as lightning their hands sought the handles of the ugly knives that
depended in sheaths from their girdles. At this moment there was a look in
the swarthy face of each that I can only describe as diabolical. Hatred,
ferocity, and cunning were combined in that glance; but it vanished in a
moment, and the air assumed by them now was one of cringing humility.
'The Gaucho malo,' I said to myself as soon as I saw them. Their horses
were there the nobler animals. Bitted, bridled, and saddled, the latter
were in the manner usual to the country, the saddle looking like a huge
hillock of skins and rags; but rifles were slung alongside, to say nothing
of bolas and lasso. The dress of the men was a kind of nondescript garb.
Shawls round the loins, tucked up between their legs and fastened with a
girdle, did duty as breeches; their feet were encased in _potro_ boots,
made of the hock-skin of horses, while over their half-naked shoulders
hung ponchos of skin, not without a certain amount of wild grace.
Something else as well as his rifle was lashed to the saddle of one of
these desert gipsies, and being new to the country, I could not help
wondering at this--namely, a guitar in a case of skin.
With smiles that I knew were false one now beckoned me to alight, while
the other unslung the instrument and began to tune it. The caravan must
have been fully two miles behind me, so that to some extent I was at the
mercy of these Gauchos, had they meant mischief. This was not their plan
of campaign, however.
Having neighed in recognition of the other horses, my good nag stood as
still as a statue; while, with my eyes upon the men and my hand within
easy distance of my revolver, I listened to their music. One sang while
the other played, and I must confess that the song had a certain
fascination about it, and only the thought that I was far from safe
prevented me from thoroughly enjoying it. I knew, as if by instinct,
however, that the very fingers that were eliciting those sweet sad tones
were itching to clutch my throat, and that the voice that thrilled my
senses could in a moment be changed into a tiger yell, with which men like
these spring upon their human prey.
On the whole I felt relieved when the rumble of the waggon wheels fell
once more on my ears. I rode back to meet my people, and presently a halt
was made for the midday feed.
If aunt desired to feast her eyes on the Gaucho malo she had now a chance.
They played to her, sang to her, and went through a kind of wild dance for
her especial delectation.
'What romantic and beautiful blackguards they are!' was the remark she
made to Moncrieff.
Moncrieff smiled, somewhat grimly, I thought.
'It's no' for nought the cland[4] whistles,' he said in his broadest,
canniest accents.
These Gauchos were hunting, they told Moncrieff. Had they seen any Indians
about? No, no, not an Indian. The Indians were far, far south.
Aunt gave them some garments, food, and money; and, with many bows and
salaams, they mounted their steeds and went off like the wind.
I noticed that throughout the remainder of the day Moncrieff was unusually
silent, and appeared to wish to be alone. Towards evening he beckoned to
me.
'We'll ride on ahead,' he said, 'and look for a good bit of
camping-ground.'
Then away we both went at a canter, but in silence.
We rode on and on, the ground rising gently but steadily, until we stopped
at last on a high plateau, and gazed around us at the scene. A more bleak
and desolate country it would be impossible to imagine. One vast and
semi-desert plain, the eye relieved only by patches of algarrobo bushes,
or little lakes of water. Far ahead of us the cone of a solitary mountain
rose on the horizon, and towards this the sun was slowly declining. Away
miles in our rear were the waggons and horses struggling up the hill. But
silence as deep as death was everywhere. Moncrieff stretched his arm
southwards.
'What do you see yonder, Murdo?' he said.
'I see,' I replied, after carefully scanning the rolling plain, 'two
ostriches hurrying over the pampas.'
'Those are not ostriches, boy. They are those same villain Gauchos, and
they are after no good. I tell you this, that you may be prepared for
anything that may happen to-night. But look,' he added, turning his
horse's head; 'down here is a corral, and we are sure to find water.'
We soon reached it. Somewhat to our surprise we found no horses anywhere
about, and no sign of life around the little inn or _fonda_ except one
wretched-looking dog.
As we drew up at the door and listened the stillness felt oppressive.
Moncrieff shouted. No human voice responded; but the dog, seated on his
haunches, gave vent to a melancholy howl.
'Look,' I said, 'the dog's paws are red with blood. He is wounded.'
'It isn't _his_ blood, boy.'
The words thrilled me. I felt a sudden fear at my heart, born perhaps of
the death-like stillness. Ah! it was indeed a death-like stillness, and
the stillness of death itself as well.
Moncrieff dismounted. I followed his example, and together we entered the
_fonda_.
We had not advanced a yard when we came on an awesome sight--the dead body
of a Gaucho! It lay on its back with the arms spread out, the face hacked
to pieces, and gashes in the neck. The interior of the hut was a chaos of
wild confusion, the little furniture there was smashed, and evidently
everything of value had been carried away. Half buried in the _debris_ was
the body of a woman, and near it that of a child. Both were slashed and
disfigured, while pools of blood lay everywhere about. Young though I was,
I had seen death before in several shapes, but never anything so ghastly
and awful as this.
A cold shudder ran through my frame and seemed to pierce to the very
marrow of my bones. I felt for a few moments as if in some dreadful
nightmare, and I do not hesitate to confess that, M'Crimman and all as I
am, had those Gauchos suddenly appeared now in the doorway, I could not
have made the slightest resistance to their attack. I should have taken my
death by almost rushing on the point of their terrible knives. But
Moncrieff's calm earnest voice restored me in a moment. At its tones I
felt raised up out of my coward self, and prepared to face anything.
'Murdoch,' he said, 'this is a time for calm thought and action.'
'Yes,' I answered; 'bid me do anything, and I will do it. But come out of
this awful place. I--I feel a little faint.'
Together we left the blood-stained _fonda_, Moncrieff shutting the door
behind him.
'No other eye must look in there,' he said. 'Now, Murdoch, listen.'
He paused, and I waited; his steadfast eyes bent on my face.
'You are better now? You are calm, and no longer afraid?'
'I am no longer afraid.'
'Well, I can trust _you_, and no one else. Led by those evil fiends whom
we saw to-day, the Indians will be on us to-night in force. I will prepare
to give them a warm reception--'
'And I will assist,' I hastened to say.
'No, Murdoch, you will not be here to help us at the commencement. I said
the Indians would attack in _force_, because they know our numbers. Those
_malo_ men have been spying on us when we little thought it. They know our
strength to a gun, and they will come in a cloud that nothing can
withstand, or that nothing could withstand in the open. But we will
entrench and defend ourselves till your return.'
'My return!'
'Twelve miles from here,' he went on, 'is a fort. It contains two officers
and over a score soldiers. In two hours it will be dusk, in an hour after
that the moon rises. 'Twixt twilight and moonrise you must ride to that
fort and bring assistance. Depend upon it, we can defend ourselves till
you come with your men, and you must attack the savages in the rear. You
understand?'
'Perfectly. But had I not better ride away at once?'
'No, the Indians would waylay you. You never would reach the frontier
fort. Even if you did escape from the chase, the knowledge that the troops
were coming would prevent them from attacking to-night.'
'And you want them to attack to-night?'
'I wish them to attack to-night. We may never be able to give a good
account of them again, but all depends on your success.'
In a short time the first waggons came up. They would have stopped, but
Moncrieff beckoned them onwards. When the last waggon had gone we mounted
our horses and slowly followed. At a stream not far distant we watered,
and once more continued our journey.
The road now rose rapidly, till in half an hour we were on high ground,
and here the halt was made. I could breathe more easily now we had left
that blood-stained hollow, though well I knew the sight I had witnessed
would not leave my thoughts for years to come.
Everything was done as quietly and orderly as if no cloud were hovering
over us, so soon to burst. The big fire was lit as usual, supper cooked,
prayers said, and the fire also lit in the ladies' caravan, for the nights
were cold and raw now.
The night began to fall. Moncrieff and I had kept our secret to ourselves
hitherto, but we could no longer conceal from any one that there was
danger in the air. Yet the news seemed to astonish no one, not even aunt.
'Dear brother,' she said to our leader, 'I read it in your face all the
afternoon.'
It was almost dusk now, and work was commenced in earnest. Spades were got
out, and every man worked like a slave to entrench the whole position. The
strength that I was to leave behind me was seven-and-twenty men all told,
but this included ten Gauchos. Nevertheless, behind trenches, with plenty
of guns, revolvers, and ammunition, they were powerful enough to defend
the position against hundreds of badly-armed Indians. Not far off was a
patch of wood which stretched downwards into a rocky ravine. Luckily it
lay on the north side of the road, and hither, as soon as it was dark
enough, every horse and mule was led and secured to the trees. Nor even in
this extremity of danger were their wants forgotten, for grass mixed with
grains was placed in front of each.
My horse was now led round. Each hoof was encased in a new and strong
_potro_ boot, secured by thongs around the legs.
'You must neither be heard nor seen,' said Moncrieff, as he pointed to
these. 'Now, good-night, boy; God be wi' ye, and with us all!'
'Amen!' I responded, earnestly.
Then away I rode in silence, through the starlight; but as I looked back
to the camp my heart gave an uneasy throb. Should I ever see them alive
again?
-----
[4] Cland, a kind of hawk.