“’Twill never do to go back by the river’s bank. Whoever the devils that have done this dastardly thing, they may be still prowling about, and to meet them would be for me to get served the same as they’ve served him, that’s sure; so I’d best take another route, though it be a bit round the corner. Let me see. I think I know a way that should lead tolerably straight to the estancia without touching the river or going anywheres near it. I mustn’t even travel within sight of it. If the Tovas have had any hand in this ugly business—and, by the Virgin, I believe they have, however hard it is to think so—some of them may still be near, and possibly a party gone back to their old tolderia. I’ll have to give that a wide berth anyhow; so to get across this open stretch without being seen, if there be anyone on it to see me, will need manoeuvring. As it is, there don’t appear to be a soul, that’s so far satisfactory.”
Again he sweeps the grassy expanse with searching glance, his face brightening up as he observes a flock of ostriches on one side, on the other a herd of deer—the birds stalking leisurely along, the beasts tranquilly browsing. Were there Indians upon the plain, it would not be so. Instead, either one or the other would show excitement. The behaviour of the dumb creatures imparting to him a certain feeling of confidence, he says, continuing the soliloquy:—
“I think I may venture it. Nay, I must; and there’s no help for’t. We have to get home somehow—and soon. Ah! the Señora! poor lady! What will she be thinking by this time? And what when we get back? Valga me Dios! I don’t know how I shall ever be able to break it to her, or in what way! It will sure drive her out of her senses, and not much wonder, either. To lose one of them were enough, but both, and— Well, no use dwelling on it now; besides, there’s no time to be lost. I must start off at once; and, maybe, as I’m riding on, I’ll think of some plan to communicate the sad news to the Señora, without giving her too sudden a shock. Pobrecita!”
At the pitying exclamation he gives a last interrogative glance over the plain; then, with a word to his horse, and a touch of the spur, he moves out into the open, and on; the other animal following, as before, its rider maintaining the same distance and preserving the self-same attitude, silent and gestureless as ever!
Chapter Twelve.
Skulking Back.
While the gaucho and his silent companion were still in halt by the edge of the sumac wood, another horseman could be seen approaching the place, but on the opposite side of the stream, riding direct down to the ford. Descried at any distance, his garb, with the caparison of his horse—the full gaucho panoply of bitted bridle, breast-plate, recado, and caronilla—would tell he is not an Indian. Nor is he; since this third traveller, so early on the road, is Rufino Valdez. As commissioner to the Tovas tribe, he has executed the commission with which he was entrusted, with something besides; and is now on return to make report to his master, El Supremo, leaving the latter to take such other steps as may deem desirable.
The vaqueano has passed the preceding night with the Indians at their camp, leaving it long before daybreak, though Aguara, for certain reasons, very much wished him to return with them to their town, and proposed it. A proposal, for reasons of his own, the cunning Paraguayan declined, giving excuses that but ill satisfied the young cacique, and which he rather reluctantly accepted. He could not, however, well refuse to let Valdez go his way. The man was not a prisoner moreover, his promise to be soon back, as the bearer of rich presents, was an argument irresistible; and influenced by this, more than aught else, Aguara gave him permission to depart.