Chapter Fifty Four.
The Ruined Rancho.
The pleasant excitement caused by the visit to my old comrades was soon over; and having nothing to do but lounge about my tent, I became again the victim of the same painful bodings. I could not shake them off.
Subtle and mysterious is the spirit-world within us; certainly does it seem to have prescience of the future. Is it an electric chain connecting what is, with what is to be? Or is it the second-sight of instinct? Certainly there are times when something within whispers a warning—as, in the physical world, God’s wild creatures are warned from without of the earthquake and the storm. How often do we experience the realisation of portentous dreams? Why should not the waking soul have also its moments of clairvoyance?
As I lay stretched upon my leathern catré, I gave way to such reflections. I soon succeeded in reasoning myself into a full belief in foreknowledge; and my apprehensions were proportionately strengthened. But I had conceived a design; and the prospect of putting it in execution somewhat relieved me from the heaviness I had hitherto felt.
My new project was to take a score of my best men, to ride back the road we had come, place the party in ambush near the hacienda, while I alone should enter the house, and further urge the counsels I had committed to writing. If I should find that these had been already followed, so much the better—I should be assured, and return content; but I felt almost certain that Don Ramon had rejected them. At all events, I was determined to know the truth—determined, moreover, to gratify my longing for one more interview with my beloved.
I had warned the men and fixed the hour—as soon it was dark enough to conceal our departure from the camp.
I had two reasons for not starting earlier—first, because I did not wish this private scouting to be known at head-quarters. It is true, that in such matters we rangers had the advantage of regular troops. Though belonging to the division, our duty was usually detached from it, and we were rarely “missed” when absent. There was thus a sort of pleasant independence in my command, which I for one fully appreciated. For all that, I did not desire the whole world to know of an expedition like the one projected.
My second motive for going in the night was simple prudence. I dared not take the whole of my command along with me without permission from head-quarters. The absence of the corps without leave would certainly be noticed—even were it but for a few hours—and with the smaller party I intended to take, caution would be requisite. Should we move along the road before it was deserted, some swift messenger might carry the tidings en avant, and get us into trouble.
I designed to start at the earliest hour of darkness—so that I might not alarm the hacienda by a midnight visit.