CHAPTER ELEVEN.
OUTWITTED BY A BANDIT.
Early next morning Pedro went round and quietly roused his friends.
"We must start at once," he said in a low voice to Lawrence, when thewearied youth was sufficiently awake to understand. "Your wounded armis better, I hope?"
"It is only stiff and painful; happily, no bones are injured. But whysuch haste? I don't like to leave my poor patients in this fashion."
"Will any of them die if you don't stay to nurse them?" asked the guide,with a grave, almost stern, expression.
"Why, no; not exactly," returned Lawrence; "but many of them will wanttheir wounds dressed, and all of them will be the better for a littlemore skilled attendance."
"Will they not survive under ordinary attendance?" asked Pedro, withincreasing severity of expression.
"Doubtless they will, but--"
"Would you like," interrupted the inflexible guide, "to have them allroused up at this early hour to hear a little farewell speech from you,explaining the absolute necessity for your going away, and your extremeregret at leaving them?"
"Not if there is such necessity," returned Lawrence, yawning, andraising himself on one elbow.
"There _is_ such necessity, senhor. I have been down to the villagewhere my friend lives, and have got fresh horses. Manuela and Quashyare already mounted. I let you sleep to the last moment, seeing youwere so tired. Don't forget your pistols; you may need them."
Without waiting for a reply, he rose and left the room. The youngdoctor hesitated no longer. Regret at quitting the poor people aroundhim was overborne by the fear of being left behind, for he had by thattime begun to entertain a vague suspicion that the stern and peculiarman by whom he was led would not permit any object whatever to stand inthe way of what he believed to be his duty.
In a few seconds he issued from the hut, armed with his pair ofdouble-barrelled pistols and the faithful cudgel. The cavalry sabre,however, had been lost, not much to his regret.
The grey light of dawn was just sufficient to give a ghostly appearanceto what may be truly termed the ghastly ruins around them, and to revealin undefined solemnity the neighbouring mountains. Smoke still issuedfrom the half-smothered fires, and here and there a spectral figuremight be seen flitting silently to and fro. But all was profoundlystill and quiet, even the occasional tremors of the earth had ceased fora time, when they issued from the enclosure of the hut.
Without speaking, Lawrence mounted the horse which stood ready for him,and they all rode silently away, picking their steps with great carethrough the upheaved and obstructed streets. It was a scene of absoluteand utter ruin, which Lawrence felt could never be effaced from hismemory, but must remain there burned in deeply, in its minutest details,to the end of time.
When they had passed the suburbs, however, and reached the countrybeyond, the depressing influences passed away, and, a certain degree ofcheerfulness returning with the sun, they began to chat and to explainto each other their various experiences.
"Of course, when I felt the earthquake," said Pedro to Lawrence, "I knewthat, although little damage was done to the village to which I had gonein search of my friends, it must have been very severe on the town withits spires and public buildings; so I saddled up at once, and set off onmy return. I met Quashy just as I left the village, and we both spurredback as fast as we could. When we came in sight of it, we saw at oncethat the place was destroyed, but, until we reached it, had no idea ofthe completeness of the destruction. We could not even find the roadthat led to the inn where we had left you and Manuela; and it was nottill the following morning that we found the inn itself, and came up, asyou know, just in time to help you, though we had sought diligently allnight."
"Das so, massa," broke in Quashy, who had listened with glittering eyesto Pedro's narrative, which of course was much more extended and full,"an' you's got no notion how we's banged about our poor shins among deseruins afore we founded you. S'my b'lief but for de fires we'd nebberhab founded you at all. And dem scoundrils--oh! dem scoundrils--"
Quashy's feelings at this point failed to find vent in wordssufficiently expressive, so he relieved them to some extent by shakinghis fist at scoundreldom in general, and grinding his teeth. No wordscould have expressed his feelings half so well. By way of changing asubject that appeared to be almost too much for him, he turned abruptlyto the Indian girl; and said, in Spanish quite as bad as that ofLawrence--
"But where were _you_, senhorina, all the time?"
"Ay, Manuela, let's hear how it was that you escaped," said Pedroquickly, in Indian.
"I escaped through the mercy of God," replied the girl, in a low voice.
"True, Manuela, true," replied the guide, "you never said a truer wordthan that; but by what means was His mercy displayed?"
"I can scarcely tell," returned the girl; "when the earthquake came Iwas sitting on my bed. Then the wall of the room seemed to fall on me,and my senses were gone. How long I lay so, I cannot tell. When Irecovered my mind I felt as if buried alive, but I could breathe, andalthough unable to rise, I could move. Then I heard cries, and Ireplied; but my strength was gone, and I think no one heard me. Then Iprayed, and then, I think, I slept, but am not sure. At last I heard aspade striking the earth above me. Soon an opening was made, and I wasdragged rudely out. The rest you know."
On this being interpreted to her companions, Quashy gave it as hisdecided opinion that a miracle had been performed for her specialdeliverance; but Lawrence thought that, without miraculous interference,God had caused a mass of wall to fall over and protect her in much thesame way that he himself had been protected.
While they were talking thus, and slowly descending one of the numerousrichly-wooded, though rugged, paths which traverse the lower slopes ofthe Andes, they encountered a party of horsemen from the Pampas. Theywere well-armed, and from their looks might have been another troop ofbanditti, coming like human vultures from afar to swoop down on thecarcass of the unfortunate town.
To have shown the slightest hesitancy or fear--supposing them to havebeen what they looked--would have been to invite attack, but, as thereader knows, our travellers were not the men to betray themselves thus.Before starting, they had carefully examined their weapons, and hadbestowed them about their persons somewhat ostentatiously. Pedro hadeven caused Manuela to stick a brace of small pistols and a large knifein her belt; and, as Indian women are sometimes known to be capable ofdefending themselves as vigorously as men, she was by no means a cipherin the effective strength of the party.
With a dignified yet free-and-easy air that would have done credit to aSpanish Don of the olden time, Pedro saluted the party as he rode past.His aspect, and the quiet, self-possessed air of the huge Englishman,with the singularity of his cudgel, coupled with the look of gracefuldecision about the Indian maiden, and the blunt bull-doggedness of thesquare negro, were sufficient to ensure a polite response, not only fromthat party, but from several other bands of the same stamp that were metwith during the day.
Diverging from the main road in order to avoid these bands, theyfollowed a track well-known to the guide. Towards the afternoon, fromthe top of a rising ground, they descried a solitary foot travellerwending his way wearily up the hill.
He was a man of middle age, and powerfully-built, but walked with suchevident difficulty that it seemed as if he were either ill or exhausted.Pedro eyed him with considerable suspicion as he approached. Inpassing, he begged for assistance. As he spoke in French, Lawrence,whose sympathies, like those of Quashy, were easily roused, asked inthat tongue what was the matter with him.
He had been robbed, he said, by that villainous bandit, Conrad of theMountains, or some one extremely like him, and had been nearly killed byhim. He was on his way to San Ambrosio, where his wife and familydwelt, having heard that it had been greatly damaged, if not destroyed,by an earthquake.
"It has been utterly destroyed, my poor fellow," said Lawrence, in atone of pity; "but i
t may be that your family has escaped. A goodnumber of people have escaped. Here are a few dollars for you. Youwill need them, I fear. You can owe them to me, and pay them when nextwe meet."
The gift was accompanied with a look of pleasantry, for Lawrence wellknew there was little chance of their ever meeting again.
Pedro sat regarding them with a grim smile. "You are a stout fellow,"he said, in a tone that was not conciliatory, after the beggar hadaccepted the dollars with many expressions of gratitude; "from all Ihave heard of Conrad of the Mountains, you are quite a match for him, ifhe were alone."
"He was not alone, senhor," replied the beggar, with a look that told ofa temper easily disturbed.
To this Pedro replied contemptuously, "Oh, indeed!" and, turningabruptly away, rode on.
"You doubt that man?" said Lawrence, following him.
"I do."
"He looked honest."
"Men are not always to be judged by their looks."
"Das a fact!" interposed Quashy; "what would peepil judge ob _me_, now,if dey hoed by looks?"
"They'd say you were a fine, genial, hearty, good-natured blockhead,"said Lawrence, laughing.
"True, massa, you's right. I'm all dat an' wuss, but not _always_ dat.Sometimes I'm roused; an' I'm _awrful_ w'en I'm roused! You should seeme w'en my back's riz. Oh _my_!"
The negro opened his eyes and mouth so awfully at the mere idea of sucha rising that his companions were fain to seek relief in laughter. Eventhe grave Manuela gave way to unrestrained merriment, for if she failedto thoroughly understand Quashy's meaning, she quite understood hisface.
That night they found welcome shelter in a small farm.
"Did you fall in with the notorious bandit, Conrad of the Mountains?"asked their host, after the ceremonious reception of his guests wasover.
"No, senhor," answered Pedro. "Is that fellow in this neighbourhoodjust now?"
"So it is said, senhor. I have not seen him myself, and should not knowhim if I saw him, but from descriptions I should think it must be he. Ihave a poor fellow--a peon--lying here just now, who has been robbed andnearly murdered by him. Come, he is in the next room; you can speak tohim."
Saying this, the host introduced Pedro and Lawrence into an innerchamber, where the wounded man lay, groaning horribly. He was veryready, indeed eager, to give all the information in his power. Fear hadevidently given the poor fellow an exaggerated idea of the appearance ofthe man who had waylaid him; nevertheless, from his description ourtravellers had no difficulty in recognising the poor bereaved beggarwhom they had met and assisted.
"Was he a large man?" asked Pedro.
"Yes, yes, senhor; tremendous!--seven feet or more, and _so_"--indicating about three feet--"across the shoulders. Rough black head,huge black beard and moustache, hawk nose, with such awful eyes, and thestrength of a tiger! I could never have been so easily overcome by oneman if he had not been a giant."
"You see," said Pedro in English, turning to Lawrence with a smile, "thedescription tallies exactly, making due allowance for this poor fellow'salarm. He must be a clever fellow this Conrad of the Mountains, for hehas not only frightened a peon out of his wits, but roused the pity ofan Englishman by asserting that he had been robbed by _himself_! Yourcharity, you see, was ill bestowed."
"So, it seems we might have made this noted bandit prisoner if we hadonly known!" exclaimed Lawrence, who seemed more distressed at missingthe chance of becoming an amateur thief-catcher than at misdirectedcharity. "But do you really think the fellow was Conrad of theMountains?"
"I am certain he was not," said Pedro.
"How do you know?"
"I have several grounds for my belief, but, even if I had not, I mighteasily judge from appearances. Conrad is said to be kind to women andchildren. The scoundrel we met with could not be kind to any one.Moreover, there is no clear proof that Conrad _is_ a bandit, while thisman certainly is one."
"I'm sorry you seem so sure, because I should like much to be able tosay I had seen this notorious fellow about whom every one appears tohear so much and to know so little."
Although the bandit of whom we have just made mention was not Conrad ofthe Mountains, it may interest the reader to know that he was in truth asufficiently notorious villain, named Fan, the captain of a band oftwenty assassins, most of whom were escaped criminals from the prisonsof Chili and Peru. Among other exploits, Fan once attacked the armedescort of a troop of mules conveying silver in bars from the mines toChili. Fan and his men attacked them in a ravine so suddenly, and withsuch a deadly fire of musketry, that the few who survived laid downtheir arms at once, on the promise being made that their lives should bespared.
Banditti do not usually regard promises as binding. It would besurprising if they did. Fan made the survivors lie down on their faces,and was about to plunder the mules, when he changed his mind, and shotall the rest of the convoy in cold blood, except the last, who, seeingthe fate that awaited him, leaped over a precipice, rolled down a steepslope many hundred feet deep, and, strange to say, escaped with hislife. He then procured a dozen or two well-armed men, and returned tothe scene of the robbery, but found that the robbers had flown with asmuch silver as they could carry, the remainder being scattered about onthe road.
These miscreants were afterwards captured, but, owing to disputesbetween the Peruvian and the Chilian Governments, the former of whom hadhold of, while the latter claimed, the robbers, they all escaped theirmerited punishment, and were set at large.