THE COUGARS.
Don Valentine Cardoso's conversation with Don Blas Salazar was
prolonged far into the night. Doña Concha had retired to her apartments.
"Thanks, Blas, my friend," Don Valentine said in conclusion; "that
Don Torribio Carvajal never pleased either my daughter or myself. His
mysterious ways and his look repulse affection and inspire distrust."
"What do you intend doing?" the capataz asked.
"I am greatly embarrassed; how can I close my doors against him; what
pretext should I have?"
"Good gracious!" Blas said; "Perhaps we are alarming ourselves too
soon. This gentleman is doubtless no more or less than a lover. Doña
Concha is of the age to be beloved, and her beauty attracts Don
Torribio. You do not like him as son-in-law, so all right; but love,
they say, is a strange thing, and some day or other--"
"I have designs for my daughter."
"That is different. By the way, may not this mysterious caballero be a
secret agent of General Oribe, who is watching Carmen?"
"That is the truth, I believe. His hints to the gauchos, his unexpected
absences, whose purpose is unknown, are simply of a political nature,
and Don Torribio is a conspirator."
"Nothing else. Be on your guard against him."
"In the expectation of General Oribe making an attack, let us make
ourselves secure. The Estancia of San Julian is close to Port San José
and the sea; we will await the issue of these machinations there in
greater security, because a vessel, anchored opposite the estancia,
will be at my disposal, and on the slightest alarm convey us to Buenos
Aires."
"That arrangement removes all difficulties; in the country you will not
be annoyed by Don Torribio's visits."
"¡Caramba! you are right; and I will proceed to give orders for
departure. Do not go away, for I want your assistance, and you will
accompany us."
Don Valentine hastened to wake the servants and peons who were fast
asleep; and the valuables were at once packed up.
At the first gleam of dawn Doña Concha was greatly surprised, when her
lady's maid, a young mulatto girl, informed her of her father's sudden
resolution. Doña Concha, without making the slightest remark, dressed
herself, and began packing.
At about eight in the morning, Blas Salazar, whom his foster brother
had sent with a letter to the captain of his schooner moored off
Carmen, and loaded with Brazilian merchandise, returned to the house,
and stated that the captain would sail at once, and be anchored by
nightfall before San Julian.
The courtyard of the house resembled a hostelry. Fifteen mules, bending
beneath their bales, stamped in their impatience to be off, while the
travelling litter was being prepared for Doña Concha. Forty saddle
horses, intended for the servants, were fastened to iron rings in the
wall; four or five mules were prepared to carry the young lady's female
attendants, while two Negro slaves held two splendid chargers, which
stamped and champed their silver bits, while awaiting their riders, Don
Valentine and his capataz. There was a deafening confusion of shouts,
laughter, and kicking. In the street, a crowd, among whom were Corrocho
and Panchito, curiously watched their departure, while making their
comments on the strange fact of Don Cardoso choosing so late a season
for a residence in the country.
Panchito and Corrocho slipped away.
At last, at about half past eight o'clock, the _arrieros_ placed
themselves at the head of their mules; the servants, armed to the
teeth, mounted, and Doña Concha, dressed in a charming travelling
costume, walked down the steps, and with a merry laugh, bounded into
the litter, where she nestled like a hummingbird among rose leaves.
At a sign from the capataz, the mules, already fastened to each other
in a file, started. Don Valentine then turned to an old Negro, who was
standing respectfully near him, hat in hand.
"Good-bye, _tío_ Peralta," he said to him; "I give you charge of the
house, and leave you Cyrillo and Nanez."
"Your Excellency can reckon on my vigilance," the old man answered;
"may God bless your Excellency, and the Niña too. I will take great
care of her birds."
"Thank you, _tío_ Peralta," the young lady said, leaning out of the
litter.
The courtyard was already empty, when the Negro bowed, delighted at the
thanks.
The night storm had completely swept the sky, which was of a pale
blue; the sun, already high on the horizon, spread profusely its warm
beams, which were filtered through the fragrant vapours that rose
from the ground. The atmosphere was wondrously transparent, a slight
breeze refreshed the air, and swarms of birds, glistening with a
thousand hues, dashed about. The mules, which followed the bell of the
_yegua madrina_, trotted to the songs of the arrieros. The caravan
marched gaily across the sandy desert, raising the dust around it, and
undulating like a long serpent, in the endless windings of the road.
Don Blas, with ten servants, who explored the country, and examined the
bushes, formed the vanguard. Don Valentine, with a cigar in his mouth,
was conversing with his daughter, while twenty resolute men closed the
march, and protected the travellers.
In the plains of Patagonia, a journey of four hours, like that to the
estancia of San Julian, requires as many precautions as one of two
hundred among us; enemies are ambuscaded everywhere, and ready for
pillage and murder; and travellers are compelled to be on their guard
against gauchos, Indians, and wild beasts.
The white houses of Carmen had disappeared long ago, when the capataz,
leaving the head of the party, galloped up to the side of the litter.
"What is the matter?" Don Valentine asked.
"Nothing," Blas replied; "still, Excellency, look," he added,
stretching out his arm in a southwesterly direction.
"It is a fire."
"Now turn your eyes to the east-south-east."
"That is another fire. Who the deuce has lighted fires on those scarped
points, and for what object?"
"I will tell you. That point is the cliff of Urubús."
"It is."
"That is the cliff of San Xavier."
"Well?"
"As a fire does not light itself, as we have some 120° of heat, and
as--"
"You conclude--"
"I conclude that these fires Have been lit by Don Torribio's gauchos;
and that they are signals."
"Stay, stay, that is logical, my friend, and you may be right perhaps;
but what do we care?"
"Those signals tell that Don Valentine Cardoso and his daughter have
left Carmen."
"You spoke to me about that, I think? Well, I do not care about Don
Torribio knowing of my departure."
A sudden cry was heard, and the mules stopped with trembling limbs.
"What is going on down there?" Blas asked.
"A cougar, a cougar!" the arrieros shouted in horror.
"Canario, it is true," the capataz said, "but instead of one there are
two."
About two hundred yards ahead of the caravan two cougars (the _Felis
discolor_ or Linnaeus, or American lion), were drawn up ready for a
spring, with their eyes fixed on the mules. These animals, still young,
were about the size of a calf; the head bore a great likeness to that
of a cat, and their skins, smooth and soft, of a silvery tawny, were
spotted with black.
"Come on," Don Valentine exclaimed, "uncouple the dogs, and let us have
a hunt."
"A hunt!" the capataz repeated.
A dozen mastiffs were unloosed which, on approaching the lions, barked
simultaneously. The mules were collected and formed into a large
circle, in the centre of which the litter was placed. Ten servants were
told off to guard Doña Concha, and Don Valentine remained by her side
to keep up her courage.
Horses, riders, and dogs rushed in rivalry on the ferocious animals
with yells, shouts, and barking sufficient to start lions that were
novices. The noble beasts, lashed their flanks with their powerful
tails, and after a deep inspiration they fled away with lengthened
bounds. A part of the hunters rode off in a straight line to cut off
their retreat, while, others bending over the saddle and guiding their
horses with their knees, brandished their terrible bolas, and hunted
them with all their strength, though without checking the cougars which
turned furiously on the dogs, and hurled them a dozen yards off yelling
with pain. The mastiffs, however, long accustomed to this style of
hunting, watched for a favourable opportunity, threw themselves on the
lions' backs and dug their teeth into their flesh, but the cougars,
with one blow of their murderous paw, swept them off like flies, and
resumed their hurried course.
One of them, hobbled by the bolas, and surrounded by dogs, rolled on
the ground, digging up the sand with its contracted claws, and uttering
a fearful yell. Don Valentine finished it by putting a bullet in its
eye.
The second cougar remained, which was still unwounded, and by its
bounds, foiled the attack and skill of the hunters. The dogs, worn out,
did not dare approach it. Its flight had brought it within a few paces
of the caravan; all at once it turned to the right, bounded over the
mules, and crouched right in front of the litter. Doña Concha, pale as
death, with closed eyes, instinctively clasped her hands, recommended
her soul to Heaven, and fainted.
At the moment when the lion was about to dart on the girl, two shots
struck it right in the middle of the chest. It turned round on its new
adversary, no other than the worthy capataz, who, with extended legs,
and eye fixed on the lion, awaited the monster. The cougar hesitated,
took a parting glance at its prey still lying in the litter, and rushed
with a roar on Blas, who pulled the trigger again. The animal writhed
on the ground, and the capataz ran up to it, machete in hand. The man
and the lion rolled together, but only one of them rose again--it was
the man.
Doña Concha was saved. Her father pressed her joyously to his breast;
she opened her eyes again at last, and aware to whose devotion she owed
her life, held out her hand to Don Blas.
"I can no longer count the number of times you have saved the lives of
my father and myself."
"Oh, señorita!" the worthy man said, as he kissed the tips of her
fingers.
"You are my foster brother, and I can only discharge my debt to you
by eternal gratitude," Don Valentine said. "Strip the lions of their
skins, my men," he said, turning to the servants. "I suppose they will
not frighten you, when they are converted into carpets, Conchita."
No one equals the Hispano-Americans in the art of flaying animals; in a
minute, the two lions, above which the urubús and vultures of the Andes
were already hovering, were stripped of their skins.
Order was restored in the caravan, which started again, and within an
hour arrived at the Estancia of San Julian, where it was received by
Patito and all the farm peons.