THE PAMPERO.
During the whole course of their journey, which lasted two hours,
Don Sylvio and Don Blas did not exchange a single word, to the great
surprise of the capataz. Don Sylvio was thinking of his approaching
happiness, which was slightly over-clouded, through the sadness of the
leave-taking, and Doña Concha's presentiments. But these vague alarms
were dissipated like the morning mist by the sun, so soon as he arrived
at El Carmen.
Don Sylvio's first care was to visit the house to which he would lead
Doña Concha, after the nuptial ceremony was performed. Though comfort
does not exist in South America, it was a fairy palace, thronged with
all the splendours of luxury. A band of English, French, and Italian
workmen, collected with extraordinary difficulty, were toiling without
relaxation, under the orders of a skilful architect, in putting the
final touch to this creation out of the Arabian Nights, which had
already swallowed up large sums, and which would be in a condition to
receive its new hosts within eight and forty hours. At Carmen nothing
was talked of but the splendours of Don Sylvio d'Arenal's palace; the
curious crowd that collected in front of the gates related marvels
about this princely residence.
Don Sylvio, satisfied at seeing his dream accomplished, smiled as he
thought of his betrothed, and after complimenting the architect and
the workmen, proceeded to pay a visit to the governor, where important
business summoned him.
The commandant gave the young man, with whose father he had been
intimate, a gracious reception. Still, in spite of the courteous manner
of Don Antonio Valverde, Sylvio fancied he could notice traces of
secret annoyance in his face.
The governor was a brave and honourable soldier, who had rendered good
service in the War of Independence, and the government had placed him
on honourable half pay, by entrusting to him the command of Carmen,
a post he had held for fifteen years. Courageous, strict, and just,
the commandant kept the gauchos in order by the punishment of the
_garrota_, and foiled the repeated attempts of the Indians, who came
even under the guns of the fortress, to harry cattle, and carry off
prisoners, especially women. Gifted with but a poor intellect, but
supported by his own experience, and the esteem of all the honest
people in the colony, he was not deficient in a certain energy of
character. Physically, he was a tall, stout man, with a rubicund,
pimpled face, full of self-satisfaction, who listened to people
speaking, and carefully weighed his words, as if they were made of gold.
Don Sylvio was surprised at the anxiety which disturbed the usual
placidity of the colonel's face.
"It is a miracle," the latter said, as he cordially pressed the young
man's hand, "for which I thank nuestra Señora del Carmen, to see you
here."
"In a few days you will not be able to reproach me thus," Don Sylvio
replied.
"Then, it is coming off soon?" Don Antonio said, rubbing his hands.
"Yes, I hope to be married within four days. I have come to Carmen
today to give the master's look at the final arrangements of my house."
"All the better," the commandant replied; "I am enchanted that you are
about to settle among us, Don Sylvio; your betrothed is the prettiest
girl in the colony."
"I thank you in her name, colonel."
"Do you spend the day at Carmen?"
"Yes, and I intend returning to the estancia at an early hour tomorrow."
"In that case you will breakfast with me, without ceremony?"
"Willingly."
"That is famous," said the commandant, as he rang a bell.
A Negro slave appeared.
"This gentleman is going to breakfast with me. By the bye, Don Sylvio,
I have a large packet of papers addressed to you, which arrived last
night from Buenos Aires by express."
"Heaven be praised! I feared some delay. These papers are indispensable
for my marriage."
"All is for the best," Don Antonio remarked.
The young man placed the packet in his coat pocket, and the slave
opened the door again.
"Your Excellency is served," he said.
A third guest was waiting for them in the dining room. It was Major
Bloomfield, a tall, dry, punctilious Englishman, who had been second
in command at Carmen for twenty years past. Don Antonio and the major
had fought side by side in their youth, and had a fraternal attachment.
They sat down, after the usual ceremony, to an abundantly and
delicately covered table, and at the dessert the conversation, which
had suffered through the appetite of the guests, became thoroughly
friendly.
"By the way," Don Sylvio asked, "what is the matter with you, Don
Antonio? You do not seem in your usual good spirits."
"That is true," the commandant said, as he sipped a glass of Jerez de
la Frontera; "I am sad."
"You sad? Hang it, you alarm me; if I had not seen you breakfast with
such a good appetite, I should fancy you ill."
"Yes," the old soldier answered with a sigh; "my appetite is all right."
"What else can annoy you?"
"A foreboding," the commandant said seriously,
"A foreboding," Don Sylvio repeated, remembering Doña Concha's parting
words.
"I, too, feel anxious, in spite of myself," the major added; "there is
something, I know not what, in the air. A danger is suspended over our
heads, but whence it will come, the Lord alone knows."
"Yes," Don Antonio remarked, "He knows; and, believe me, Don Sylvio, He
gives warnings to men when they are in danger."
"Major Bloomfield and you, both old soldiers, brave as their swords,
cannot be frightened at a shadow; so what are your reasons?"
"I have none," said the colonel; "still--
"Come, come, Don Antonio," Sylvio remarked gaily, "you are suffering
from what the major would call blue devils. It is a species of spleen
produced by the English fogs, and not at all at home in this country,
which is full of sunshine. Take my advice, colonel; have yourself bled,
and in two days the fog over your imagination will be dissipated; do
you not agree with me, major?"
"I wish it may be so," the old officer answered, with a shake of his
head.
"Nonsense!" Sylvio remarked, "Life is too short as it is, then why
sadden it by chimeras?"
"On the frontier men can be sure of nothing."
"The Indians have become lambs."
"Excellency," a slave said, opening the door, "a bombero, who has
arrived at full speed, requests an interview."
The three gentlemen looked at one another.
"Let him come in," the colonel said.
Heavy footsteps echoed in the passage, and the bombero appeared; it
was Pedrito. He certainly had at this moment the look of a bearer of
ill tidings, and seemed to have just come out of a fight. His ragged
clothes were stained with blood and mud, an unusual pallor covered his
face, and he leant on his rifle, for he was exhausted by his hurried
ride.
"Take this glass of wine," said Don Sylvio, "it will restore you."
"No," Pedrito answered, thrusting the glass away, "it is not wine I
thirst for, but blood."
The bombero wiped his dank forehead with the back of his hand, and said
in a sharp, quick voice, which conveyed terror to the hearts of the
three hearers--
"The Indians are coming down."
"Have you seen them?" the major asked.
"Yes," he replied hoarsely.
"When?"
"This morning."
"Far from here?"
"Twenty leagues."
"How many are they?"
"Count the grains of the sand on the Pampa, and you will have their
number."
"Oh," the colonel exclaimed, "that is impossible, the Indians cannot
thus organize an army at a day's notice. Terror must have made you see
double."
"Terror, nonsense!" the bombero answered disdainfully, "In the desert
we have not time to know it."
"But, tell me, how are they coming?"
"Like a hurricane, burning and plundering everything on their passage.
They form a vast semicircle, whose two extremities are gradually
drawing nearer to Carmen. They act with a certain method, under the
orders of a chief who is, doubtless, practised and skilful."
"That is serious," the commandant said.
The major shook his head.
"Why did you warn us so late?" he said to the bombero.
"This morning at sunrise my three brothers and I were surrounded by
two or three hundred Indians, who seemed to emerge suddenly from the
ground. What a fight it was! We defended ourselves like lions; Juan is
dead, Pepe and Lopez are wounded, but we escaped at last, and here I
am."
"Return to your post as speedily as possible; a fresh horse will be
given you."
"I am off."
"Well," said Don Antonio, after Pedrito had retired, "what do you think
of our presentiments, Don Sylvio? But where are you going?" he asked
the young man, who had risen from his chair.
"I shall return to the Estancia of San Julian, which the Indians have,
perhaps, attacked. Oh, Doña Conchita!"
"San Julian is fortified, and safe against surprise. Still, try and
induce Don Valentine and his daughter to return to Carmen, where they
will be in greater security."
"Thanks, colonel, I will try, and do you offer a bold front to the
enemy. As you are aware, the Indians only attempt surprise, and so soon
as they see that their plans are discovered, they are off again."
"May heaven hear you."
"Good-bye for the present, gentlemen, and I wish you success," said the
young man, as he pressed the hand of the two old soldiers.
Don Blas Salazar, who was waiting for Don Sylvio in the courtyard, ran
up to him so soon as he perceived him.
"Well," the capataz said, "you know the news. The Indians are making a
descent."
"I have just been told so."
"What are we going to do?"
"Return to the estancia."
"Hum, Don Sylvio, that is not at all prudent; the Indians will,
doubtless, bar our way."
"We will pass over their bodies."
"Of course, of course, but suppose they kill you?"
"Nonsense! Doña Concha is expecting me."
"As you please," the capataz answered, "all is ready for our departure;
the horses are here, saddled and all. Let us be off."
"Thank you, Blas, you are a good fellow," Sylvio said, as he held out
his hand to him.
"I am aware of it."
"Off we go."
Don Sylvio and Blas, escorted by the two slaves, walked their horses
through the crowd of idlers who had assembled in front of the fortress
to hear the news; then they went at a sharp trot down the rather steep
hill that leads from the citadel to old Carmen, and at length galloped
towards San Julian.
They had not noticed the behaviour of sundry suspicious looking fellows
who had followed them at a distance ever since they started, and were
talking eagerly together.
The weather was stormy, and the clouds were gray and low. The air
seemed motionless, a deep silence brooded over the solitude; a white
cloud, light as a sand drift, collected in the southwest, which
advanced, and each moment grew larger. All announced the approach of
the pampero, that simoom of the prairies.
The clouds collected, the dust rose and ran along in dense columns,
suspended between earth and sky. The clouds enveloped the plain as in
a mantle, whose comers the gusts lifted at every moment, and which
lightning flashes rent here and there. Puffs of hot air traversed the
space, and suddenly the tempest rushed up furiously from the horizon,
sweeping the Pampa with irresistible violence. The light was obscured
by masses of sand; a thick gloom covered the earth, and the thunder
mingled its terrible artillery with the howling of the hurricane.
Enormous masses were detached from the lofty cliffs, and fell with a
frightful din into the sea.
The travellers got off their horses, and sheltered themselves behind
rocks on the seashore. When the worst of the storm had passed, they set
out again, Don Sylvio and Blas riding silently side by side, while the
two slaves, twenty yards ahead, trembled at the thought of seeing the
Indians appear.
The storm had slightly diminished in intensity, the pampero had carried
its fury further, but the rain fell in torrents, and thunder and
lightning followed each other uninterruptedly. The travellers could
not continue their journey, for they ran the risk of being thrown at
every moment by their horses, which reared in affright. The ground and
the sand, moistened by the rain, did not offer a single spot where the
brutes could set their feet in safety; they stumbled, slipped, and
threatened to fall.
"Whatever we may do," said the capataz, "it is impossible to go any
further, so we had better halt again, and seek refuge under that clump
of trees."
"Very good," Don Sylvio said, with a sigh of resignation.
The little party proceeded toward a wood that bordered the road. They
were only some fifteen paces from it, when four men, whose faces were
concealed by black masks, dashed out of the wood at a gallop, and
silently attacked the travellers.
The slaves rolled off their horses, struck by two bullets the strangers
had fired, and writhed on the ground in convulsions of agony. Don
Sylvio and Blas Salazar, astonished at this sudden attack on the part
of men who could not be Indians, for they wore the dress of gauchos,
and their hands were white, immediately dismounted, and making a
rampart of their horses, awaited the attack of their adversaries, with
levelled rifles.
Bullets were exchanged on both sides, and a fierce combat, silent and
unequal, began; one of the assailants fell with his skull cleft to the
teeth; and Don Sylvio passed his sword through the chest of another.
"Well, my masters," he shouted to them, "have you had enough? Or does
another of you wish to form the acquaintance of my blade? You are
fools, ten of you should have come to assassinate us."
"What!" the capataz added, "Are you going to give in already? You are
clumsy fellows for cut-throats, and the man who pays you ought to have
made a better choice."
In fact, the two masked men had fallen back; but immediately four other
men, also masked, appeared, and all six rushed at the Spaniards, who
firmly awaited their attack.
"Hang it! Pardon our having calumniated you; you know your trade," said
Don Blas, as he fired a pistol into the thick of his adversaries.
The latter, still silent, returned the fire, and the fight began
again with fresh fury. But the two brave Spaniards, whose strength
was exhausted, and whose blood was flowing, fell in their turn on the
corpses of two other assailants, whom they sacrificed to their rage
before succumbing.
So soon as the strangers saw Don Sylvio and Blas were motionless, they
uttered a cry of triumph. Paying no heed to the capataz, they raised
Don Sylvio d'Arenal's body, laid it across one of their horses, and
fled away at full speed along the devious path.
Seven corpses strewed the ground. After the assailants the vultures
arrived, which hovered and circled above the victims, and mingled their
hoarse croaks of triumph with the sound of the hurricane.