"Get your gun and load quickly," said Mr. Blunt. "And get the flap of your revolver pocket open. Those beasts must be stopped, or they will gallop over us and trample us to death. Don't attempt to run, Dudley. You would certainly be caught. Our only chance is to back up the efforts of the gauchos, and stand firm. Let the brutes have a couple of charges full in their faces when they get into range. That will give you time to load again and repeat the dose."
There was little time for talking, for already the maddened herd was almost within range of the shotgun. For a few seconds Dudley had contemplated flight, and made ready to follow his employer should he run. But seeing that he proposed to stand fast, he loaded his gun, opened the flap of his holster, and faced the herd. It was a terrifying spectacle, and it wanted no experience to tell him that if the beasts were not stopped they would stamp everything in their path flat with the ground. He felt his pulses throbbing wildly, while a bead of perspiration collected in the furrow on his forehead and trickled down his cheek. The time for action had arrived. He lifted his gun, aimed at the far right of the herd, and pressed the two triggers, one after the other, sending a hail of pellets into the faces of the animals. But he might have fired peas for all the effect the shots had. A few beasts on the far flank swerved away into the open, and came to a halt, as if wondering what all the commotion was about. But the remainder galloped madly on, as if they saw the two solitary figures standing before them and had made up their minds to annihilate them.
"Again!" said Mr. Blunt quietly. "Give them another charge, lad."
Crash! Bang! This time the range was much closer, and though the shot did not separate so much, they struck the animals on the right with far greater force. One, a massive beast, received a portion of one charge full in the face, and it may have happened that one of the pellets reached the brain by way of the eye. In any case the ponderous animal fell on his horns, crumpled up, and rolled over and over, while two near at hand rose for a moment into the air and bellowed with pain. A second later a score of the beasts had poured over the prostrate animal, had tripped, recovered their feet, and tripped again. Fifty almost were down, and their startled bellows seemed to scare the remainder of the herd. They swept in one dense mass to the left, three of the gauchos galloping for their lives in front of them, while those on the right flank came thundering over the pampas, kicking their heels within six feet of Dudley and his employer.
"Phew! That was the nearest shave I have ever had," exclaimed Mr. Blunt, lifting his hat and wiping the perspiration from his brow. "I thought it was all up with us, and was preparing to make a desperate leap on to the back of the nearest beast, for I have known one man to escape in that way. Then your lucky shot set the matter right. Lad, you did well again. How did you feel? Inclined to bolt?"
"Never in a bigger funk in all my life, sir," came the candid answer, and indeed Dudley was shaking with excitement. "I expected to be smashed into a jelly, and can't believe now that they have run past us. The life of a gaucho is not all honey after all. I suppose many are killed in this way?"
"Scores have been trampled to death, and many are gored by bulls, or have their backs broken by a bucking horse. Then they are very apt to quarrel, and the Spanish blood they have leads them to let their tempers loose and draw their knives. Yes, the gaucho seldom lives to an old age. I like him. He is honest, hearty, and a good worker, and he has pluck. But let us enquire as to damages. There will be little branding to-day, Dudley. It will be three hours before the herd is rounded up again."
They returned to their camp, still congratulating themselves on their fortunate escape. It took but a few minutes to fetch their horses, which had not been stampeded like many of the others, and in a little while they were off, cantering away across the pampas.
"We will go on into the Indian country," said Mr. Blunt. "There are often herds of wild horses there, and if we are lucky enough to spy one, we will bring a party out to round them up. We don't do a great deal of breeding on the rancho; Indian raids make that such a profitless game. We rely on the wild animals always roaming the pampas."
It was a glorious day, with a bright sun and a mild breeze. The scent of wild grasses was in the air, while one huge vista of pampas swept before the eye, with a few clumps of trees away in the distance, for Dudley was in the middle of one of those vast plains of South America famed to this day as grazing lands for cattle, and then the home of herds of wild beasts, including cattle, horses, and deer of many descriptions. In addition there were the Indians, an ever-present danger to the settler. It was not long before the two horsemen arrived at one of the collections of trees, and, skirting this, they mounted a rise in the land till they were near the top.