Roughriders of the Pampas: A Tale of Ranch Life in South America

by F. S. Brereton

"Halt!" A whispered word from Dudley brought his small force to a standstill, for the flickering rays of a fire had penetrated to the path along which they were riding. "Wait," said the young leader. "I will go forward and reconnoitre."

Slipping from his mount he ran along, bent almost double, and very soon was on the very edge of the clearing. The fire still burned there as brightly as ever, and seated near it, on upturned saddles or on the ground, were four of the enemy, while the jovial features of the Indian cook were clearly seen, for he stood over the fire stirring his kettle, from which he had just filled the pannikins of the men. Evidently the loss of two horses and of their leader had not been discovered, and everything promised well for Dudley and his party. He slipped back to them, and in a twinkling they were moving forward.

"Four take charge of the horse lines, while the rest cover the enemy with their rifles," he said. "Trot! We must get along."

Following one another in Indian file, for the path was too narrow for two to ride abreast, the little cavalcade were not long in reaching the clearing. They burst into the open space, spread out so as to surround the enemy there, and before the latter had recovered from their astonishment had them covered with their rifles. It was comical to see the look of dismay which overspread the once jovial face of the Indian cook. He seemed paralyzed with terror, and stood precisely in the same spot where Dudley had seen him, his mouth agape, his eyes bulging from their sockets, while he mechanically continued to stir the contents of his steaming kettle.

"Hands up!" cried Dudley. "You are surrounded, and if one of you attempts to lift his rifle, that man will be shot."

Whether or not the men understood what he said, they at least gathered his meaning from his gestures, and more even from the sight of the rifles which covered them. They had already dropped their pannikins, and now they huddled themselves together near the cook, their hands held up above their heads.

"Let two men dismount and take their pistols and knives from them," commanded Dudley. Then, when that task had been accomplished, he placed a couple of his men on guard over the prisoners, all of whom were secured with the long leather thong of a bolas.

"Now for the others," he said. "We will spread out here on the edge of the clearing facing their comrades, and will wait for the dawn. If any come our way, let them pass in and then cover them with your weapons. If possible let us take them without a shot, and without so much as a sound."

Fortune was favoring Mr. Blunt and his honest gauchos on this occasion, for it happened that during Dudley's absence all the men of Antonio's following had had a meal, save those who now lay captives, and who had been taken in the midst of their repast. None came from the forest to the clearing. In addition, beyond a loud call every now and again, not a sound was heard from the depths of the forest, even Harold and his men were husbanding their ammunition till the dawn came, for the brave lad had no idea that Dudley had returned already. At the earliest he could not expect help before the following night, and for that reason he saved every cartridge, while, on the advice of Pepito, he allowed one-half of his force to sleep, waking them when an hour had gone so as to rest the remainder. But the dawn was coming. Even to the men hidden in the forest an occasional glimpse was possible of the reddening sky, while the light, growing imperceptibly greater, seemed to steal down past the leaves and along the tree trunks till it reached the roots. It was dawn. Men could see the faces of their comrades, and Harold was able to tell the exact position of each one of his following, and for the first time could distinguish the outline of the quaint fort which Dudley had suggested before his departure. A little extra banking here and there at the edges, a little more taken out of portions of the trenches, and the place would be perfect. The men were all awake now, lying with their weapons ready and cartridges at hand. He was about to give an order to improve the fort when a single rifle shot rang out far back in the forest, to be answered within a minute by a report from the pampas. Then came a loud hail from the latter position.

"Harold! Harold!" came in Mr. Blunt's stentorian tones. "Harold, ahoy!"