Don Gregorio gone!—his gold—his girls! Only an empty house, in charge of a caretaker, who carries a Colt’s repeating pistol, biggest size, and would use it on the smallest provocation!
No good their going inside now, but a deal of danger. Anything but pleasant medicine would be a pill from that six-shooter.
“Carramba! Caraio! Chingara! Maldita!”
Such are the wild exclamations that issue from the lips of the disappointed housebreakers, as they turn away from the dismantled dwelling, and hasten to regain their horses.
Chapter Forty Five.
A Scratch Crew.
It was a fortunate inspiration that led the ex-haciendado to have his gold secretly carried on board the Chilian ship; another, that influenced him to transfer his family, and household gods, to an hotel in the town.
It was all done in a day—that same day. Every hour, after the sailing of the Crusader, had he become more anxious; for every hour brought intelligence of some new act of outlawry in the neighbourhood, impressing him with the insecurity, not only of his Penates, but the lives of himself and his ladies. So long as the British ship lay in port, it seemed a protection to him; and although this may have been but fancy, it served somewhat to tranquillise his fears. Soon as she was gone, he gave way to them, summoned Silvestre, with a numerous retinue of cargadores, and swept the house clean of everything he intended taking—the furniture alone being left, as part of the purchased effects.