The solitary estancia which for two years had been the happy home of Ludwig Halberger and his family, but late the abode of deepest sorrow, is once more revisited by a gleam of joy. For the rescuing party has returned to it, bringing Francesca back safe and still unharmed. In the tumult of gratified emotions at recovering her lost child,—or rather children, for she had begun to think them all for ever gone from her—the widow almost forgets that she is widowed.
Only for a brief moment, however. The other great bereavement has been too recent to remain long out of her thoughts, and soon returns to them in its full afflicting bitterness.
But she has no time to dwell upon it now. The tale of actual experience which the rescuers have brought back, with Caspar’s surmises added, has given her a full and clear comprehension of everything; not only explaining the tragic event already past, but foreshadowing other and further dangers yet to come, and which may, at any moment, descend upon herself and the dear ones still left to her.
She has no longer any doubts as to the hand that has dealt her such a terrible blow; neither of the man who actually committed the murder, nor of him who instigated it. For Francesca’s recognition of Valdez has confirmed all the gaucho’s conjectures.
And the Dictator of Paraguay is not the man to leave unfinished either his cruel deeds or designs. Surely will he further prosecute them, either by hastening himself to the estancia, or sending thither his myrmidons. Yes, at any hour, any minute, a party of these may appear approaching it from the east, while in like short time the pursuing Tovas, headed by their enraged cacique, may show themselves coming from the west.
No wonder that the moments of mutual congratulation between the Señora Halberger and those just returned to her are brief, and but little joyful. The fugitives have reached home, but not to find it a refuge. For them it is no more a place of safety; instead, the most perilous in which they could now or ever after sojourn. But where are they to go—whither further flee? In all the Chaco there is not a spot that can shelter them from such pursuers as they are expecting!
It is now near noon of the fourth day since they left the Sacred Town of the Tovas, and in the interval they had been riding hard and fast, day and night, scarce allowing themselves either sleep or rest. But, fast as they have travelled, they know that Aguara, with his braves, will not be far behind; and although less than an hour has elapsed since their arrival at the estancia, Gaspar has already made preparations for their departure from it. Assisted by the faithful Guano Indians, who of course are to accompany them in their flight, he has caught up and caparisoned fresh horses, with the mules belonging to the establishment. Still the question remains unanswered—Whither are they to go? Throughout all the vicissitudes of his eventful life, never had the gaucho one so perplexing him, or fraught with such fears.
In the hope of finding an answer, and the better to reflect upon it, he has drawn a little apart from the house, with the hurry and bustle going on around it. A slight eminence, not far off in front, gives a commanding view of the campo; and, taking stand upon its top, he first casts a sweeping glance around the horizon, then fixes it only in one direction—that southwards, towards the old tolderia. For, although expecting enemies both from east and west, he knows that, coming from either side, they will most likely approach by the Pilcomayo’s bank; the former by the trail leading up the river, the latter by the same going down. It is not the first time for him to be standing on that elevated spot. Every ten minutes since their return to the estancia, he has been upon it, gazing out in the same way, and for the self-same purpose. Still, as yet, he observes nothing to add to his apprehensions, already keen enough. No living thing—much less human being—stirs over the wide expanse of green grassy plain. For it is near the meridian hour, and the tropical sun, pouring its fervid rays vertically down, has forced both birds and quadrupeds inside the cooler shadow of their coverts. Only two of the former are seen—a brace of urubus, or “king vultures,” soaring in circles aloft—beautiful birds, but less emblematic of life than death. A bad omen he might deem their presence; and worse, if he but saw what they see. For, from their more elevated position, they command a view of the plain to a much greater distance, and see mounted men upon it; not a single party, but three distinct groups of them, leagues distant from each other, though all round for the estancia. They are approaching it by separate routes, and from different quarters of the compass; one party coming up the Pilcomayo’s bank, and making straight for the old tolderia, a second moving towards the same place on the down-river trail; while the third, away from the river, and out upon the open plain, is heading more direct for the estancia itself. The first cohort, which is the smallest, is composed of some forty or fifty horsemen, riding “by twos;” their regular formation on the march, but more the uniformity in their dress, arms, and accoutrements, telling them to be soldiers. For such they really are—the cuarteleros of Paraguay, with Rufino Valdez riding at their head; not as their commanding officer, but in the exercise of his more proper and special calling of vaqueano, or guide. Ghastly and pallid, with his arm supported in a sling, he is on the way back to Halberger’s estancia, to complete the ruffian’s task assigned to him by the Dictator of Paraguay, and make more desolate the home he had already enough ruined. But for his mischance in the biscachera, the rescuers would have found it empty on their return, and instead of a lost daughter, it would have been the mother missing.
The second band of horsemen, coming from the opposite quarter and down the river, is no other than the pursuing party of Tovas, with Aguara at their head. They are mostly young men, the cacique’s particular friends and partisans, nearly a hundred in number, all armed with bolas and long spears. Hastily summoned together, they had started in pursuit soon as they could catch up their horses; but with all their speed the rescuing party had so far kept ahead, as to have arrived at the estancia some time before them. But they are pressing on for it now, fast as their horses can carry them, urged forward by their leader, who, in his rage, is not only determined to retake the escaped captive, but kill cousin, brother, all who aided in her escape.
The third party, also approaching from the west, but by a route leading direct to the house, with the river far southward on their right, is, as the second, composed entirely of Tovas Indians. But, instead of them being the youths of the tribe, they are, for the most part, men of mature age, though a young man is at their head, and acting as their commander. There is a girl riding by his side, a beautiful girl, at a glance recognisable as Nacena—he himself being her brother, Kaolin.