Chapter Forty Nine.
Gaspar means Masquerading.
As they might truly anticipate, the gaucho’s conjecture proves to be correct. A road runs up to the summit of the hill on its western side; not direct, but somewhat zigzagged, in consequence of the slope on that face being steeper, and the ground more rocky and uneven. Withal, it is much wider than that by which they ascended, the latter being only a path leading out to the uninhabited pampa: while the former is the main thoroughfare between town and cemetery. It debouches on the level summit through a slight hollow, or defile, possibly due to the wear and tear of travel, continued through the long ages. Many a funeral procession, and from the most remote time, may have wound its way up that steep slope, passing between two cliffs, which, like the posterns of some grand gateway, mark the entrance to this elevated burial-place.
They do not go direct to the point where the town road enters the cemetery ground, but first back to the fig-tree to get their guns, ponchos, and some other articles left under it in their haste to put the horses in a better place of security. Having recovered the weapons and chattels, they proceed in search of the road. It is easily found, as all the paths between the separate scaffolds run into it. The point where it comes up out of the defile is but a short distance from the fig-tree; and on reaching this point they take their stand under the cliff; the one on the right hand side: for the moon being behind this, its shadow is projected more than half across the causeway of the road, so giving them a safe spot to stand in.
But they do not remain long upon their feet. Gaspar, observing a low bench of rock at the cliff’s base behind them, repeats a Spanish synonym of the old saw, “It’s as cheap sitting as standing;” and with this drops down upon the ledge, the others doing likewise.
The spot thus chosen is in every way answerable for the object they have in view. They are right over the Indian town, and can see into its streets, so far as is permitted by the moon’s declining light. It commands, moreover, a view of the road, for a good reach below, to the first angle of the zigzag, and no one could ascend beyond that point without being seen by them so long as there is light; while there is no danger of being themselves seen. One passing up, even when opposite the place where they are seated, would not perceive them; since, in addition to the shadowing cliff, there is a thick scrub between them and the travelled track, effectually screening them.
The advantages of the position are apparent to all; and, soon as settled in it, Cypriano once more calls upon Gaspar to make known the plan he has hinted at.
Thus again challenged, the gaucho, who has meanwhile been doing his best to trace out some course of action, responds, speaking in a slow, meditative way. For as yet he has but a vague idea of what ought to be done.
“Well,” he says, “there’s but one plan I can think of as at all likely to be successful. It may be, if dexterously managed; and I dare say we can so manage it.”
He pauses, seeming to deliberate within himself; which the two youths perceiving, refrain to ask further questions, leaving him to continue at his own time.
Which at length he does, with the odd observation:—
“One of us must become an Indian.”
“Become an Indian!” exclaims Ludwig. “What mean you by that, Gaspar?”
“I mean counterfeit a redskin; get disguised as one, and so steal into their town.”
“Ah! now, I understand. But that will be a dangerous thing to do, Gaspar. If caught—”
“Of course it will be dangerous,” interrupts the gaucho. “If caught, whoever of us it be, would no doubt get his skull crushed in by a macana, or maybe his body burnt over a slow fire. But as you see everything’s dangerous for us now, one may as well risk that danger as any other. As to counterfeiting an Indian, I propose taking the part myself; and I should be able to play it pretty well, having, as you both know, had some experience in that line. It was by a trick of the same sort I got off from the Guaycurus when I was their prisoner up the Pilcomayo; and if I hadn’t done it neatly, you shouldn’t now see me here.”
“How did you manage it?” queries Ludwig mechanically, or rather, to know how he intended doing it now.
“Well, I borrowed the costume of an ugly savage, who was set to keep guard over me, having first taken a loan of his hardwood club. The club I returned to him, in a way he wouldn’t have wished had he been awake. But he was silly enough to go to sleep, and was sleeping when I took it—ah! and slept on after I returned it—ever after. His dress I kept, and wore for more than a week—in short, till I got back to Paraguay, for I was over a week on the road. It fitted me well; so well, that with some colouring stuff I found in the fellow’s pouch, I was able to paint Indian, pass among the tents of the Guaycurus, and through a crowd of the savages themselves, without one of them suspecting the trick. In that way I slipped out of their camp and off. So, by something of the same I may be able to get the dear little niña out of this town of the Tovas.”
“Oh! do it, Gaspar!” exclaims Cypriano; “do that, and all I have will be yours.”
“Yes! all we both have,” adds Ludwig; “all there is at the estancia. But rescue sister, and I’m sure my mother will make you welcome to everything.”
“Ta-ta!” returns the gaucho, in a tone of reproach at being thus bargained with; gentle, however, as he knows it is from their anxiety about Francesca. “Why, hijos mios, what are you speaking of? Promises to me,—a bribe for but doing my duty! ’Twill be a far day before Gaspar Mendez will need that for service done to either friend or relative of his dear dead master—ay, to the laying down of my life. Carramba! are we not all embarked in the same boat, to swim or sink together? But we sha’n’t sink yet; not one of us. No; we shall swim out of this sea of troubles, and triumphantly. Cease despairing, then; for after all there mayn’t be so much danger. Though Naraguana be dead, there’s one above him, above all, up there in Heaven, who will not forsake us in this our extremity. Let us kneel and pray to Him.”
And they do kneel; Ludwig, as called upon by Gaspar repeating the Lord’s prayer, with a solemnity befitting the occasion.