II
THE trail was hard-packed earth, and ahead it lost its white line in the green walls. Muella ran swiftly, dodging the leaning branches, bowing her head under the streamers of moss, striking aside the slender palm leaves. Gay-plumaged birds flitted before her, and a gorgeous butterfly crossed her path. A parrot screeched over her head.
She strained her gaze for the trailing jaguar. Then she saw him, a long black and yellow shape moving slowly under the hanging vines and creepers.
When Muella caught up with Tigre, she slackened her pace, and watched for a wide place in the trail where she could pass without touching him.
“I must pass him,” she muttered. “He can’t hear me—I can do it safely—I must!”
But still she did not take advantage of several wide places.
Presently the trail opened into a little glade. Twice she started forward, only to hang back. Then desperately she went on, seeing nothing but the great spotted cat just in front of her.
TWICE SHE STARTED FORWARD, ONLY TO HANG BACK
Sharp spear-point palm leaves stung her face, and their rustling increased her terror. She flashed by Tigre so close that she smelled him.
Muella uttered a broken cry and began to run, as if indeed she were the wild creature Bernardo had called her. She looked over her shoulder to see the sinuous yellow form disappear round a bend of the trail. Then she gathered courage. For a long time her flying feet pattered lightly on the trail. She was young, supple, strong, and it took much to tire her. She ran on and on, until her feet were heavy, her breath was almost gone, and her side pierced by a sharp pain. Then she fell to a walk, caught her breath, and once more ran.
Fears began to beset her. Had Augustine left the trail? How swiftly he had walked! It seemed as if she had run several miles. But that was well, for, the larger the distance the farther she would get ahead of the jaguar.
Shadows began to gather under the overhanging vines and creepers. Only the tips of the giant ceibas showed a glint of sunlight. The day was fast closing. Once more she ran on and on; and then, as she turned a curve, a tall, dark form stood out of the green, and blurred the trail.
“Augustine! Wait! Wait!” she cried.
The man swung round, and ran back. Muella, panting for breath and with her hand pressed over her heart, met him.
“Señora! What has happened?” he exclaimed.
“Wait! My breath’s gone!” she gasped. “Wait! But keep on—we—we mustn’t stop!”
Muella took a fleeting upward glance at him. It was so hurried that she could not be positive, but she thought she had caught a strange, paling flush of his bronzed face and a startled look of his dark eyes. Why should his meeting her unexpectedly cause more than surprise or concern?
As she trotted along, she shot another quick glance up at him. He seemed unmistakably agitated; and this disconcerted her. She heard his amazed questions, but they were mostly unintelligible.
She had thought of nothing save to catch up with him and to blurt out that Tigre was on his trail, and why. The words now halted on her lips. It was not easy to tell him. What would he say—what would he do? A few moments back, he had been only one of Bernardo’s herders—the best, truly, and a man whom it was pleasing to look upon, but he had been nothing to her. He alone of the vaqueros had not smiled at her, and this piquing of her pride had gained him notice which otherwise he might never have got.
As she pattered on, slowly regaining her breath, the presence of the man seemed to grow more real. It was well that she knew Augustine cared nothing for her, else she could not have told him of Bernardo’s unjust suspicions.
The trail opened into a clearing, where there were several old palm-thatched huts, a broken-down corral, and a water hole. The place had once been used by Bernardo’s herders, but was now abandoned and partly overgrown. At this point, Augustine, who for a time had silently stalked beside Muella, abruptly halted her.
“Señora, what is wrong? Where are you going?”
“Going!” She uttered a little laugh. “Why, I don’t know. I followed—to warn you. Bernardo put Tigre on your trail!”
“Tigre? Santa Maria!”
“Yes. I ran, and ran, and passed him. He must be far back now. He’s slow at first, but he’s sure, and he’s trailing you. Hurry on! You mustn’t stop here!”
“Señora! You ran—you risked so much to save me? Oh, may our Blessed Lady reward you!”
“Man, I tell you, don’t stop. Go on! You have only your machete. Why did you start into the jungle without a gun?”
“Bernardo drove me off. I owned nothing at the hacienda except my blanket and machete.”
“He’s selfish—he was beside himself. Why, Augustine, he was jealous. He—he told me he drove you away because you—you cared for me. I’m ashamed to tell you. But, Augustine, he’s growing old. You mustn’t mind—only hurry to get safe from that terrible brute!”
“I forgive him, señora. It’s his way to fall in a rage; but he quickly repents. And you, señora—you must take this old trail back to the hacienda. Go swiftly, for soon it will be night.”
“I’m not going back,” said Muella slowly. “I won’t live any longer with Bernardo. Take me to Micas—to my sister’s home!”
With one long stride Augustine barred the trail and stood over her.
“You must go back. It’s best you should know the truth. Bernardo spoke truth when he told you I loved you!”
“Augustine, you’re telling a lie—just to frighten me back to him!”
“No. Bernardo asked me for the truth; so I told him.”
Muella’s eyes dilated and darkened with shadows of amaze, wonder, and pain.
“Oh, why did you tell him? I didn’t know. Oh, I swore by the Virgin that you had no thought of me. He’ll believe that I lied.”
“Señora, you are innocent, and Bernardo will learn it. You know him—how hotheaded he is, how quickly he is sorry. Go back. Take this old cattle road—here—and hurry. The sun has set. You must run. Have no fear for me!”
“I’m not going back to Bernardo.” She straightened up, pale and composed, but as she stepped forward to pass the vaquero in the trail she averted her eyes. “Take me to Micas!”
With a passionate gesture Augustine stopped her.
“But, señora, consider. Darkness is upon us. Micas is a long way. You’re only a girl. You can’t keep up. You’ve forgotten that Tigre is on my trail.”
“I forget nothing,” she replied coldly. “I’ve begged you to hurry.”
“Muella, go back at once. To-morrow—after a night in the jungle—with me—you can’t go. It’ll be too late!”
“It’s too late now,” breathed the girl. “I can’t go back—now!”
“Go first, then,” he said, whipping out the long machete. “I’ll wait here for Tigre.”
“Señor, there are other tigres. There are panthers, too, and wild boars. I may lose the trail. Will you let me go alone?”