"_Puez senor_! what I am about to tell you happened full ten years ago,
though it's as fresh in my mind as if it was yesterday. You may have
heard of the village of Valverde? It is about fifty leagues south of
Santa Fe, on the Rio del Norte--that portion of the valley we call the
_Rio Abajo_. It was at one time a settlement of some importance--rich
and prospering as any in New Mexico--but, in consequence of the
incursions of the Apaches, it fell into decay. Is now a complete ruin
without a single inhabitant."
"_Well, amigo_; it was there I was born: and there lived I, till I was
twenty-five years of age--up to the time when that calamity befell me,
and mine--the same I am about to speak of. I may say two years after
that time; for I did not leave the neighbourhood till I had taken
revenge upon those who were the cause of my misfortunes. I have spoken
of Gabriella Gonzales. I have told you that I loved her; but I could
not find words to tell you how much I loved her. You, who have come all
this way in pursuit of a sweetheart,--you, _cavallero_, can understand
all that. Like you with yours, I too could have followed Gabriella to
the end of the world! _Puez amigo_! Like you, I had the good fortune
to be loved in return."
I could not divine the object of the Mexican in proclaiming this
similitude. Perhaps it was done with the view of cheering me--for the
quick-witted fellow had not failed to notice my despondency. It could
only be a conjecture on his part: for how could he know ought of Lilian,
beyond the fact of my preference for her, and that she was the object of
our expedition? Of course he was aware, like all the others, of the
purpose of our pursuit. From Sure-shot, or Wingrove, he might have
learnt a little more; but neither he nor they could possibly have been
acquainted with a sentiment of which, alas! I was myself in doubt--the
very doubt which was producing my despondency. His incidental allusion
could have been only conjecture. I would have joyed to believe it just;
but whether just or not it had the effect of soothing me; and, silently
accepting it, I permitted him to continue his narration.
"I need not enter into the particulars of my wooing. Gabriella lived
upon a _hato_ some distance below Valverde, and nearer to the desert of
the Dead Man's Journey (_Jornada del muerto_)--of which no doubt you
have heard mention. Her father was a _hatero_, and owned large flocks
of sheep. He pastured them upon the great plains on the eastern side of
the Sierra Blanca--where I was in the habit of going in my capacity of
_cibolero_ to hunt the buffaloes. The _hatero_ and I became
acquainted--became friends. He invited me to visit his house, and I
went. I saw Gabriella for the first time; and ever afterwards was her
beautiful face before my eyes. I went often, as you may believe,
_cavallero_; but for a long time I was uncertain whether I was welcome--
I mean to Gabriella: for her father still continued my friend. It was
only after the incident I have mentioned--my saving her from the bear--
that I felt certain my love was returned.
"She had ventured too far into the mountains, where I had chanced to be
at the time. I heard her voice calling for help. I ran through the
rocks, and came up, just as a huge bear was springing upon her. I was a
good shot, and my bullet brought down the monster--stretching him
lifeless at her feet. Gabriella thanked me with sweet words--with
smiles that were far sweeter, and told me still more. From that hour I
knew that she was mine. Shortly after she consented to marry me."
"You were married, then?"
"Married--but only for an hour."
"Only for an hour!"
"Ah! _senor_; just so. One hour of wedded life, and then we were parted
for ever. Death parted us. Death to her--to me worse than death;
despair that has never left me--no--never will."
The voice of the speaker trembled in sorrowful tone. It was manifestly
a sorrow that defied any efforts I might have made at consolation. I
made none; but in silence and with eager attention awaited to hear the
denouement of a drama, whose prologue promised such a tragical ending.
"_Puez, senor_," proceeded the narrator, after a short silence,
"Gabriella, as I have said, consented to marry me, and we were married.
It was the day of our wedding. We had parted from the church; and with
our friends had gone out into the country for a _dia de campo_. There
were about twenty of us in all, young men and girls--about, an equal
number of each--all in their holiday dresses, just as they had been to
the church. Most of the girls were Gabriella's bridesmaids, and still
wore the flowers and jewels they had used at the ceremony. The place
chosen for our _dia de campo_ was a pretty spot, about a mile distant
from the town. It was a glade in the midst of the _chapparal_,
surrounded by beautiful trees, and sweet-smelling flowers. We went
afoot: for the distance did not make it worth while for us to ride.
Besides, we preferred enjoying the ramble, without being encumbered with
horses. Well, _senor_; we had arrived on the ground, spread out the
repast we had brought with us, uncorked the wine-bottles, and were in
the full tide of enjoyment--talking and laughing gaily--when all of a
sudden--we heard the trampling of horses. Not of one or two; but the
hoof-strokes of a whole troop. At first we thought it might be the
_cavallada_ of some rich proprietor, galloping past the place. We knew
that horses were pastured in that neighbourhood; and it was like enough
to be one of the half-wild droves straying through the _chapparal_.
Still we were not without apprehension: for it might also be a troop of
Apaches--who in those times made frequent forays upon the defenceless
settlements. Alas, _cavallero_! our apprehensions proved but too just.
We had been seated on the grass, around our festive preparations. We
had scarce time to spring to our feet, ere the yell of the savages
sounded in our ears; and almost on the instant the glade was filled with
dusky warriors. They were all upon horseback, brandishing their long
lances, and winding their _lazos_ around their heads. Fearfully
painted, and whooping their wild cries, they resembled the very
_demonios_! We could neither retreat nor defend ourselves. Against
such odds it would have been idle to have attempted the latter: besides,
we were all without weapons. On an occasion like that which had called
us forth, one does not think of preparing for such an event. I own it
was imprudent of us to go out unarmed--more especially when the country
was filled with Indian _novedades_--but who could have dreamt that such
was to be the fatal termination to our joyous _dia de campo? Ay de mi_!
I may well call it fatal. Very few of our men survived that dreadful
day. Two or three of the young fellows managed to retreat into the
bushes; and afterwards got off. The others were killed upon the spot--
most of them impaled upon the spears of the Apaches! The women were
left untouched: for the Indians rarely kill our women. Them they
reserve for a different destiny. Ah! _cavallero_! a destiny worse than
death! Not one of them escaped. The poor _ninas_ were all made
captives; and each, borne off in the arms of a swarthy savage, was
mounted upon his horse. Gabriella, the queen of all,--because by far
the most beautiful--was chosen by the chief. I saw her struggling in
his grasp, I saw him dragging her over the ground, and raising her to
the withers of his steed. I saw him leap up behind her, and prepare to
ride off--Gabriella, my beloved--my bride!"
Here the speaker paused--as if overcome by the very remembrance of the
incidents he was relating; and it was some time before he became
sufficiently composed to resume his narrative.