CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
TREATS OF SAVAGES, CAPTIVES, CHASES, ACCIDENTS, INCIDENTS, ANDPERPLEXITIES.
Not unfrequently, in human affairs, evil consequences are happilyaverted by unforeseen circumstances. It was so on the present occasion.
What Colonel Marchbanks's wrath might have led to no one can tell, for,a little before dawn on the following morning, there came a messenger inhot haste from Pedro stating that one of the scouts had come in with thenews that the Indians were encamped with their captives and booty nothalf a day's ride in advance of them.
The result was an immediate order to advance and to close up.
It is interesting to consider how small a matter will cheer the spiritsof some men. The order to mount and ride naturally produced someexcitement in the breast of Lawrence Armstrong, being unaccustomed tothe dash and whirl of troops eager to meet the foe; but the succeedingorder to "close up" did more, it filled his heart with joy, for did itnot imply that the advance and rear-guards must come nearer to eachother? At least to his unmilitary mind it seemed so.
In a brief space of time, and with marvellously little noise, the troopswere in motion, and at dawn, sure enough, he saw the figures of theladies galloping with the advance party, with Pedro leading the way--forhe had been appointed to the responsible duty of guide.
Venturing to push a little ahead of his special charge, Lawrence soonfound himself with the main body, and heard the colonel order one of hisofficers to ride forward and tell the ladies to fall to the rear of theforce.
Hearing this, Lawrence, almost imperceptibly to himself, tightened hisreins, but, before he had dropped many strides behind, the colonelturned his head slightly and summoned him by name.
With something like a guilty feeling Lawrence rode forward.
"We have heard of the whereabouts of the savages, Senhor Armstrong. Youare a civilian, and as surgeon to the force it is your duty, of course,to keep as much out of danger as possible, but as brave men usuallyprefer the front, I absolve you from this duty. You are at liberty togo there if you choose."
The blood rushed to our hero's face. He knew well what the old soldiermeant. With a simple "Thank you, colonel," he put spurs to his steed,and was in a few seconds galloping alongside of Pedro.
"You ride furiously, senhor," said the guide, with a twinkle in his eyewhich was characteristic of him when amused.
Lawrence made no reply.
Just then they overtopped a slight ridge or rising ground, and beheld afew mounted men on the horizon. These were evidently the scouts of theIndian band, for on seeing the soldiers they drew hastily together andstood in a group as if to consult for a few seconds. Then, turning,they galloped over the next rising ground and disappeared.
The soldiers of course increased their speed. On gaining the top of theridge, they beheld a large band of Indians mounting and galloping off inhot haste. Evidently they did not intend to give battle--at least atthat time.
With a mighty shout the soldiers bore down on them at their utmostspeed--Lawrence, Pedro, the colonel, and Quashy leading, for they werethe best mounted of the party. It was soon perceived that captives werewith the Indians, for women in civilised dress were seen on horseback,and some of the savages had children in front of them.
At this sight every thought of self fled from the warm heart of LawrenceArmstrong, and he was impressed with but one idea--"Rescue thehelpless!" Urging his steed to its utmost, he was soon far ahead of thetroop, closely followed by Quashy, whose eyes and teeth seemed to blazewith excitement.
There was a savage straight ahead of them who carried something in hisarms. It seemed to be a child. Fixing his eye on this man, Lawrencespurred on, and grasped his sword with deadly intent. Quashy, everobservant, did the same.
The man, perceiving their intentions, diverged a little to the right ofhis comrades, probably thinking that his pursuers would be unwilling toquit the main band, and might thus be thrown off. He was mistaken, forLawrence possessed, with immense power of will, a strong spice ofrecklessness. The more, therefore, that the savage diverged, the moredid his pursuers diverge in their determination to have him. Findinghimself hard pressed, he dropped his load. It proved to be only a sack,which, bursting, revealed, not a child, but a quantity of miscellaneousproperty!
Enraged as well as disappointed by the discovery, our hero, beingfallible, permitted evil feelings to enter his bosom, and spurred onwith a tighter grasp of the sword under the influence of revenge, butthe savage being now lightened held on with still greater speed,diverging more and more until, in a short time, he raced almost at rightangles from his companions towards a part of the plain which wassomewhat elevated above the surrounding level.
It was a wise move on his part, for the place, he knew, was riddled withbiscacho-holes. Among these he steered his course with consummateskill. Of course Lawrence's steed ere long put its foot into a hole androlled over, sending its rider headlong to the ground, where he lay onhis back insensible, alike to pity for captives and impulses of revenge.
After lying thus for a considerable time he slowly opened his eyes, and,looking up, met the solemn gaze of Quashy. His head rested on the kneeof his sable follower.
"What's wrong, Quash?" was his first inquiry.
"Nuffin's wrong, massa, now you talk. I was begin to t'ink your mout'was shut up for ebber."
"Have they caught the rascals?" asked Lawrence, suddenly recollectingwhat had passed, and raising himself on one elbow.
"I not know, massa. Nobody here to tell."
"How--what--where are the troops?"
"Dun know, massa; gone arter de Injins, I s'pose, an' de Injins gonearter deir own business, an' bof gone off de face ob de art'altogidder--so far as I can see."
Lawrence started up in great anxiety, and although still giddy from theeffects of his fall, could see plainly enough that neither troops norIndians were to be seen--only a mighty sea of waving grass with a clearhorizon all round, and nothing to break the monotony of the vastsolitude save their two horses browsing quietly a few yards off.
"Quashy, it strikes me that we shall be lost," said Lawrence, withanxious look.
"'Smy opinion, massa, dat we's lost a'ready."
"Come," returned Lawrence, rising with some difficulty, "let's mount andbe off after them. Which way did they go--that is, at what point of thecompass did they disappear?"
Quashy's face assumed the countless wrinkles of perplexity. He turnednorth, south, east, and west, with inquiring glances at the blankhorizon, and of course gave a blank reply.
"You see, massa," he said, apologetically, "you hoed a-rollin' ober an'ober in sitch a way, dat it rader confused me, an' I forgits to lookwhar we was, an' den I was so awrful cut up for fear you's gone dead,dat I t'ink ob nuffin else--an' now, it's too late!"
"Too late indeed," rejoined Lawrence, with a feeling of bitterness,"nevertheless, we must ride somewhere. Catch our horses, Quashy, and Iwill wait for you and think."
Having applied himself to that most difficult process--thinking out aplan with insufficient material for thought--our hero resolved to ridein what he supposed--judging by the position of the sun--was an easterlydirection, hoping to strike the trail of the pursuers and fugitivesbefore night.
"You see, Quashy," he remarked, as they galloped swiftly over theflowering plains, "we are almost sure to find the trail in a short time;for although neither you nor I have had much experience in followingtrails in the wilderness, we have got some sort of idea--at least Ihave, from books--of how the thing should be done, and even the moststupid white man could scarcely ride across the track of several hundredhorsemen without observing it."
"Das true, massa. Eben the stoopidist black man am equal to dat. Butwhat if you's mistook de d'rection, an' we's ridin' west instead obeast?"
"Why then, Quashy, we'd discover our mistake sooner or later by arrivingat the Andes," returned Lawrence, with a bland smile.
"Hi! I don' mean west," returned the negro, with
a reciprocal grin;"you couldn't be so mistook as dat--but s'pose you'se go souf bymistake?"
"Why, then the straits of Magellan would bring us up."
"Ah--well, massa, I dun know whar de straits ob Majillum is, but itwould be a comfort to be brought up anywhar, for den you couldn't go nofarder. An' if we's on de right track, we're sure to come to deAtlantic at last, eben if we miss de Injins an' de sodjers altogidder.Das pleasant to t'ink on--i'n't it?"
Apparently Lawrence did not think it remarkably pleasant, for he paid nofurther attention to the remarks of his companion, but proceeded alongwith a profound, almost stern, gravity, and with his eyes glancingkeenly right and left after the most approved manner of the Indian braveor the backwoods scout.
No track or trail, however, of any kind was to be seen. For more thanan hour they sped along, down in the flowering hollows, over the grassywaves steering carefully past the riddled townships of the biscachos,now and then diverging a little to avoid some larger shrubs or tangledmasses of herbage, sometimes uttering a word of comment on passingobjects, and occasionally craning their necks on observing some buzzardor other bird on the horizon, but never drawing rein until they came toa rising ground, from the highest point of which they could have acommanding view of the region all round. Here they pulled up.
"Quashy," said Lawrence, in a deep, solemn tone, "we are indeed lost."
"It 'pears to me you's right, massa."
"And yet we _must_ be on the right track," continued Lawrence, as ifcommuning with himself, "unless, indeed, the Indians may have changedtheir direction and turned off to the south."
"Or de nort'," suggested Quashy, in the same self-communing tone.
"Come, there's nothing for it but to push on," cried Lawrence, gallopingaway.
"Das so. Nuffin else," said Quashy, following.
And so they continued on for another hour or more in grim silence, afterwhich they rode, as it were, in grim despair--at least Lawrence did so,for he felt bitterly that he was now separated, perhaps for ever, fromManuela, and that he could render no further aid in rescuing thecaptives from the savages. As for the negro, despair was not compatiblewith his free and easy, not to say reckless, happy-go-lucky temperament.He felt deeply indeed for his young master, and sympathised profoundly;but for himself he cared little, and thought of nothing beyond theinterests of the passing hour. Possibly if both horses had broken theirlegs and Lawrence had broken his neck, Quashy might have given way todespair, but it is probable that nothing less severe could have overcomehis buoyant spirit.
At last the sun began to descend behind the Andes, which were by thattime turned into a misty range of tender blue in the far, far distance.The steeds also showed signs of declining power, for, in his anxiety toovertake the troops, Lawrence had pressed them rather harder than hewould otherwise have done.
Opportunely at that time they came in sight of a small clump of bushes,like a low islet in the sea of grass.
"We will camp here," said Lawrence, brusquely, as he pulled up anddismounted. "The game is up. We are fairly lost, that's quite clear,and it is equally clear that we and our horses must rest."
He spoke in a tone of cynical joviality, as if defying his misfortunes.The simple-minded Quashy, accepting it as genuine, said, "All right,massa," in a tone of cheerful satisfaction, as he slid off his steed andset about preparing the encampment.
If our hero's mind had been more at ease, it is probable that he wouldhave enjoyed his surroundings greatly, for, although lost on the widePampas, they had not begun yet to suffer physically from thatmisfortune. Their wallets were still supplied with food sufficient forat least three full meals, the weather was serene, and the situation,viewed in one aspect, was exceedingly romantic. From the top of therising ground where the fire was burning and the steaks of mare's fleshroasting, the complete circle of the horizon could be seen, and theyellow-brown grass of the Pampas, at that time about a foot high, rolledwith a motion that strangely resembled the waves of the liquid oceanitself.
But poor Lawrence was incapable of enjoying the beauties of nature justthen. After one long, anxious look round to see if any object shouldpresent itself which might raise the faintest echo of hope, he returnedto the camp, and sat down on a mound with a profound sigh.
"Chee' up, massa," said Quashy, raising his face, which glittered withhis efforts to blow the fire into a glow. "You's git her in de longrun."
"Get who?" demanded Lawrence, in surprise, not unmingled with a touch ofseverity, for this was the first time that his humble follower had daredto touch on the theme that was uppermost in his mind.
With a strange compound of what is well named "cheek" and humility,Quashy replied, "_Her_, you know, de Inca princess--Manuela. It's allright!"
"And pray, Quashy, how do _you_ know that it's all right, or that I wantanything to be all right. In short, what business have you to presumeto--to--"
"Oh, it's all right, massa," replied the negro, with a wink--and _what_a wink that was!--"I knows all about it, bein' _zactly_ in de same statewid Sooz'n."
Lawrence sought refuge from conflicting feelings in a loud laugh, andasked what hope Quashy could by any possibility entertain of ever seeingSusan again--she having, as it were, vanished from off the earth.
"Oh, nebber fear," was Quashy's comfortable reply. "I's sure to findSooz'n, for she no can git along widout me, no more nor I can git alongwidout her. We's sure to find one anoder in de long run."
Envying his man's unwavering faith, Lawrence sat for some time silentlycontemplating the gorgeous sunset, when an exclamation drew hisattention to the opposite side of the landscape.
"Look, massa. Suffin movin' dar."
There was indeed a moving speck--or rather two specks--on the horizon.As they drew nearer it was soon seen to be a Gaucho of the Pampas infull chase of an ostrich. They did not come straight towards ourwanderers, but passed within half a mile of them. The picturesquehunter, bending over his steed's neck, with his scarlet poncho streamingbehind him, and the bolas whirling round his head, was so eager in thepursuit that he either did not observe, or did not mind, the thin smokeof the camp-fire. The giant bird, stretching its long legs to theutmost and using its wings as additional propellers, seemed quite ableto hold its own and test the powers of the horse. Gradually pursuer andpursued passed out of the range of vision, and were seen no more.
"Just as well," remarked Lawrence, as he afterwards sat eating hismare-steak by the star-and-fire light, "that fellow might be one of themany robbers who are said to infest the plains; and although we could nodoubt have protected ourselves from him, he might have brought a swarmof his comrades about our ears."
"Yes, massa," was Quashy's brief reply, for he was engaged at thatmoment with a large and tough mouthful.
A long ride, and a hearty though frugal supper, disposed both master andman for rest that night. When the last gleam of sunset had faded fromthe western sky, and the last scraps of mare's flesh had vanished fromtheir respective bones; when the stars were twinkling with nocturnalsplendour, and all nature was sinking to repose, Lawrence and Quashy laydown on the grass, spread their ponchos above them, pillowed their wearyheads upon their saddles, and slept profoundly.