Chapter Forty One.
Travelling Tandem.
An odd spectacle the trio of trackers would afford to anyone seeing them on the salitral now, without knowing what they are at; one riding directly in the wake and on the track of the other, with over a hundred yards between each pair. And, as all are going at full gallop, it might be supposed that the foremost is fleeing from the other two—one of the pursuers having a blown horse and fallen hopelessly behind!
Nor do they proceed in silence. Instead, the hindmost is heard to utter loud shouts which the one midway repeats, as if in echo; while he ahead alone says nothing. Even this would strengthen the supposition of its being a chase; the pursued party speechless from the intensity of his fears, and the effort he is making to escape his pursuers.
One near enough, however, to note the expression upon the faces of all three, and hear the words spoken, would know that the three galloping horsemen, though oddly apart, are in friendly communication with one another. Since in their shouts, though loud, is nothing to tell of hostility or anger. Nor yet any great variety of speech—only the two words, “right” and “left;” these uttered at short but irregular intervals, first by the hindmost, then taken up by the one riding midway, and passed on to him who leads; the last, as he hears them, shaping his course in accordance.
In this quaint fashion they have proceeded several leagues, when the leader, Ludwig, is seen to swerve suddenly to the left, without any direction having reached him from behind; this, too, at an angle of full fifty degrees.
“Right!” calls Cypriano from the rear, the tone of his voice telling of surprise, while the same is visible on his face.
Gaspar repeats the word in like accent of astonishment. Cypriano once more vociferating, “Right! to the right!”
But, although Ludwig must have heard them both, to neither gives he ear, nor pays the slightest attention to the directions called out to him. Instead, he still holds on in the new course, which he seems to have chosen for himself.
Has his horse shied, and escaped from his control? That is the first thought of the other two, who by this time have both reined up, and sit looking after him. Then a more painful apprehension forces itself upon them; he may have gone astray in another sense, than from the track he should have taken. Is he still under the influence of the animal electricity, which might account for his seemingly eccentric behaviour? For eccentric it certainly appears, if not something worse—as indeed they half-suspect it to be.
While they continue watching him, they see, as well as hear, what goes far towards confirming their suspicions. For after galloping some two or three hundred yards, and without once looking back, he suddenly pulls up, raises the hat from his head, and holding it aloft, waves it round and round, all the while uttering cries as of one in a frenzy!
“Pobrecito!” mutters Gaspar to himself, “the excitement has been too much for him. So long on the strain—no wonder. Ay de mi? Another of that poor family doomed—and to worse than death!”
At the same time Cypriano is reflecting in a somewhat similar fashion, though he makes no remark. The strange exhibition saddens him beyond the power of speech. His cousin has gone crazed!
They had headed their horses, and were about to ride rapidly after, when they saw him stop; and now moving gently forward with their eyes on him, they see him replace the cap upon his head, and bend downward, with gaze given to the ground. Some new fancy dictated by a disordered brain, think they. What will he do next? What will they see?
And what do they see on drawing nearer to him? That which makes both of them feel foolish enough; at the same time that it rejoices them to think they have been the victims of a self-deception. For before they are quite up to the spot where he has halted, they perceive a large space of whitish colour, where the surface mud has been tossed and mixed up with the substratum of saltpetre—all done by the hoofs of horses, as even at a distance they can tell.
“Come along here, you laggards!” cries Ludwig in a tone of triumph; “I’ve something to show you. Feast your eyes upon this!”
While speaking he nods to the ground by his horse’s head, indicating the disturbed tract; then, adding as he raises his hand, and points outward—
“And on that!”
The “that” he refers to is a white list leading away westward as far as they can see—evidently the trail taken by those they are in pursuit of.
Long ere this, both Gaspar and Cypriano have full comprehension of what perplexed while alarming them. But neither says a word of the suspicions they had entertained concerning him. Each in his own mind has resolved never to speak of them, the gaucho, as he comes up again, crying out—
“Bravo!” then adding with an air of gracious humility, “So, Señor Ludwig, you, too, have beaten me! Beaten us all! You’ve set us on the right trail now; one which, if I mistake not, will conduct us to the end of our journey, without need of sunshine, or any other contrivance.”
“And that end,” interposes Cypriano, “will be in a town or camp of Tovas Indians, at the tent of the scoundrel Aguara;” then, adding excitedly, “Oh! that I were there now!”
“Have patience, hijo mio,” counsels Gaspar; “you’ll be there in good time, and that very soon. For, from something I remember, I don’t think we’ve much more journey to make. But before proceeding further, let us take a look at this curious thing here, and see what we can make of it. Besides, our animals need breathing a bit.”
So saying, he dismounts, as do the others; and leaving their horses to stand at rest, all three commence examination of the tract which shows stirred and trampled.
They see hoof-marks of horses—scores of them—all over the ground for the space of several perches, and pointed in every direction; among them also the foot-prints of men, with here and there smooth spots as if where human bodies had reclined. That both men and horses had been there is evident, and that they had gone off by the trace running westward, equally so. But how they came thither is a question not so easily answered; since the same halting-place shows no track of either horse or man leading towards it!
Odd all this might appear, indeed inexplicable, to one unacquainted with the nature of a dust-storm, or unaware of the incidents which have preceded. But to Gaspar, the gaucho, everything is as clear as daylight; and, after a short inspection of the “sign,” he thus truthfully interprets it:—
“The redskins had just got thus far, when the tormenta came on. It caught them here, and that’s why we see these smooth patches; they lay down to let it blow by. Well; there’s one good turn it’s done us: we now know the exact time they passed this spot; or, at all events, when they were on it. That must have been just after we entered the cave, and were engaged with the tigre—I mean it Number 1. No doubt by the time we tackled the old Tom, they were off again. As, you see, muchachos, some little rain has sprinkled that trail since they passed over it, which shows they went away in the tail of that terrific shower. So,” he adds, turning round, and stepping back towards his horse, “there’s nothing more to be done but ride off after them; which we may now do as rapidly as our animals can carry us.”
At this they all remount, and setting their horses’ heads to the Indian trail, proceed upon it at a brisk pace; no longer travelling tandem, but broadly abreast.