“Peace be with you!” said he, waving his hand, but with a gesture it was easy to see boded more passion than patience.
I hesitated for a second what to do; and at last, feeling that another word might perhaps endanger the victory I had won, I dashed spurs into the mare's flanks, and, with the shout the ostler had recommended, rushed her at the stream. Over she went, “like a bird,” lighting on the opposite bank with her hind-legs “well up,” and the next moment plunged into the forest.
Scarcely, however, had I proceeded fifty paces than I drew up. The dense wood effectually shut out the river from my view, and even masked the sounds of the rushing water. A suspicion dwelt on my mind that the Friar was not going back, and that he had merely concerted this plan with the Mexican the easier to disembarrass himself of my company. The seeming pertinacity of his purpose suggested an equal obstinacy of resistance on my part. Some will doubtless say that it argued very little pride and a very weak self-esteem in Con Cregan to continue to impose his society where it had been so peremptorily declined; and so had it been, doubtless, had the scene been a great city ruled and regulated by its thousand-and-one conventionalities. But the prairies are separated by something longer than mere miles from the land of kid-gloves and visiting tickets. Ceremonial in such latitudes would be as unsuitable as a court suit.
Besides, I argued thus: “A very underdone slice of tough venison, with a draught of spring water, constitute in these regions a very appetizing meal; and, for the same reason, a very morose friar and a still sulkier servant may be accepted as very tolerable travelling companions. Enjoy better when it can be had, Con, but prefer even the humblest fare to a famine,”—a rule more applicable to mental food than to material.
In a little self-colloquy after this kind, I crept stealthily back, leading Charry by the bridle, and halting at intervals to listen. What a triumph to my skill in divination as I heard the Friar's loud voice overtopping the gushing flood, while he exhorted his beasts in the most energetic fashion!
I advanced cautiously till I gained a little clump of brushwood, from which I could see the river and the group perfectly. The Friar had now mounted the wagon, and held the reins; the Mexican was, however, standing in the stream and leading the cattle, who appeared to have regained somewhat more of their courage, and were slowly proceeding, sniffing timidly as they went, and pawing the water fretfully.
The Mexican advanced boldly, till the water reached nigh the top of his great botas vaqueras, immense boots of buffalo hide, which, it is said, resist the bite of either cayman or serpent; and so far the horses went, doubtless from the encouragement. As soon, however, as the deepening flood warned the man to mount the wagon, they halted abruptly, and stood pawing and splashing the stream, while their ears flattened back, and their drawn-in tails evinced the terror that was on them.
Objurgations, entreaties, prayers, curses, menaces, were all in vain,—a step farther they would not budge. All that the Spanish contained of guttural was hurled at them without success; the cow-hide whip might welt their flanks and leave great ridges at every stroke, the huge pole of the Mexican might belabor them, with a running accompaniment of kicks, but to no purpose. They cared as little for the cow-hide as the “calendar;” neither saints nor thrashings could persuade them to move on. Saint Anthony and Saint Ursula, Saint Forimund of Cordova, with various others, were invoked, to no end. Saint Clement of Capua, to whom all poisonous reptiles, from boas to whip-snakes, owe allegiance, was called upon to aid the travellers; but the quadrupeds took no heed of these entreaties, but showed a most Protestant contempt for the whole litany.
There was a pause; wearied with flogging, and tired out with vain exhortations, both Friar and Mexican, ceased, and as if in compensation to their long pent-up feelings, vented their anger in a very guttural round of maledictions upon the whole animal creation, and in particular on that part of it who would not be eaten by alligators without signs of resistance and opposition. Whether this new turn of events had any influence, or that the matter was more owing to “natural causes,” I cannot say; but, just then, the horse which had been already bitten, reared straight up, and with a loud snort plunged forward, carrying with him the other. By his plunge he had reached a deep part of the stream, where the water came half way up his body. Another spring smashed one of the traces, and left him free to kick violently behind him,—a privilege he certainly hastened to avail himself of. His fellow, whether from sympathy or not, imitated the performance; and there they were, lashing and plunging with all their might, while the wagon, against which the strong current beat in all its force, threatened at every instant to capsize. The Friar struggled manfully, as did his follower; but, unfortunately, one of the reins gave way, and by the violent tugging at the remaining one, the animals were turned out of their course, and dragged round to the very middle of the stream. About twenty yards lower down, the river fell by a kind of cascade some ten or twelve feet, and towards this spot now the infuriated horses seemed rushing. Had it been practicable, a strong man might, by throwing himself into the water, have caught the horses' heads and held them back; but the stream swarmed with poisonous reptiles, which made such an effort almost inevitable death.
It was now a scene of terrible and most exciting interest.