On seeing the savages take to the bush, Moncrieff's anxiety knew no bounds. The danger of their discovering the horses was extreme. And if they did so, revenge would speedily follow defeat. They would either drive them away across the pampas, or in their wrath slaughter them where they stood.
What was to be done to avert so great a catastrophe? A forlorn hope was speedily formed, and this my two brothers volunteered to lead. On the first shout heard down in the hollow—indicating the finding of our horses—Donald, Dugald, and fifteen men were to rush out and turn the flank of the swarthy army if they could, or die in the attempt.
Meanwhile, however, the enemy appeared bent on trying cunning and desperate tactics. They were heard cutting down the bushes and smaller trees, and not long afterwards it looked as if the whole wood was advancing bodily up towards the breastwork on that side.
A rapid and no doubt effective fire was now kept up by Moncrieff and his men. This delayed the terrible dénoûment, but it was soon apparent that if some more strategic movement was not made on our part it could not wholly thwart it.
At all hazards that advancing wood must be checked, else the horrors of fire would be the prelude to one of the most awful massacres that ever took place on the lonely pampas.
'How is the wind?' asked Moncrieff, as if speaking to himself.
'It blows from the wood towards the camp,' said Dugald, 131 'but not quite in a line. See, I am ready to rush out and fire that pile.'
'No, Dugald,' cried Donald; 'I am the elder—I will go.'
'Brother, I spoke first.'
'Yes,' said Moncrieff, quietly, 'Dugald must go, and go now. Take five men, ten if you want them.'