by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER EIGHT.
When the cibolero returned to the plain, he was received with a freshburst of vivas, and kerchiefs were waved to greet him. One only caughthis eye,--but that was enough. He saw not the rest, nor cared to seethem. That little perfumed piece of cambric, with its lace border, wasto him an ensign of hope--a banner that would have beckoned him on toachieve deeds of still higher daring. He saw it held aloft by a smalljewelled hand, and waved in triumph for _him_. He was happy.
He passed the stand, rode up to the carreta, and, dismounting, kissedhis mother and sister. He was followed by Don Juan, his backer;--andthere were those who noticed that the eyes of the blonde were not alwaysupon her brother: there was another on the ground who shared their kindglances, and that other was the young ranchero. No one, not even thedullest, could fail to notice that these kind glances were more thanrepaid. It was an affair of mutual and understood love, beyond a doubt.
Though Don Juan was a rich young farmer, and by courtesy a "Don," yet inrank he was but a degree above the cibolero--the degree which wealthconfers. He was not one of the high aristocracy of the place,--aboutthat he cared little; but he had the character of being a brave,spirited young fellow; and in time, if he desired it, might mingle withthe "sangre azul." It was not likely he ever should--at least throughthe influence of marriage. Any one who was witness to the ardentglances exchanged between his eyes and those of the cibolero's sister,would prophesy with ease that Don Juan was not going to marry among thearistocracy.
It was a happy little group around the carreta, and there was feasting,too,--dulces, and orgeat, and wine from El Taso of the best vintage.Don Juan was not afraid to spend money, and he had no reason on thatoccasion, with fifty onzas of clear gain in his pocket--a fact that byno means sat easily on the mind of the Comandante.
The latter was observed, with a clouded countenance, strolling around,occasionally approaching the carreta, and glancing somewhat rudelytowards the group. His glances were, in fact, directed on Rosita, andthe consciousness of his almost despotic power rendered him careless ofconcealing his designs. His admiration was expressed in such a mannerthat many could perceive it. The poor girl's eyes fell timidly whenthey encountered his, and Don Juan, having noticed it, was not withoutfeelings of anger as well as uneasiness. He knew the character of theComandante, as well as the dangerous power with which he was armed. OLiberty! what a glorious thing art thou! How many hopes are blighted,how many loves crossed, and hearts crushed, in a land where thou artnot! where the myrmidons of tyranny have power to thwart the purpose ofa life, or arrest the natural flow of its affections!
Several games were yet carried on upon the plain, but they were withoutgeneral interest. The splendid feat of the cibolero had eclipsed alllesser exhibitions for the time; besides, a number of the head men wereout of humour. Vizcarra was sad, and Roblado savage--jealous ofCatalina. The alcalde and his assistant were in a vexed state, as bothhad bet heavy sums on the red cock. Both the padres had lost at_monte_, and they were no longer in a Christian spirit. The cura alonewas in good spirits, and ready to back the "pardo" for another main.
The concluding game was at length heralded. It was to be the "_Correrel gallo_" (running the cock). As this is rather an exciting sport, the"_monte_" tables and other minor amusements were once more put aside;and all prepared to watch "el gallo."
"Running the cock" is a New Mexican game in all its characteristics. Itis easily described. Thus: A cock is suspended by the limbs to ahorizontal branch, at just such a height that a mounted man may lay holdof his head and neck hanging downward. The bird is fastened in such amanner that a smart pluck will detach him from the tree; while, torender this the more difficult, both head and neck are well covered withsoap. The horseman must be in full gallop while passing under thebranch; and he who succeeds in plucking down the cock is pursued by allthe others, who endeavour to rob him of the prize. He has a fixed pointto run round, and his goal is the tree from which he started. Sometimeshe is over, taken before reaching this, the cock snatched from him,--or,as not infrequently happens, torn to pieces in the contest. Should hesucceed in getting back--still retaining the bird entire--he is thendeclared victor. The scene ends by his laying his prize at the feet ofhis mistress; and she--usually some pretty poblana--appears that sameevening at the fandango with the feathered trophy under her arm--thussignifying her appreciation of the compliment paid her, as well asgiving to the _fandangueros_ ocular proof of the fact that some skilfulhorseman is her admirer. It is a cruel sport, for it must be rememberedthat the poor cock who undergoes all this plucking and mangling is a_living bird_! It is doubtful whether a thought of the _cruelty_ everentered the mind of a New Mexican. If so, it must have been a NewMexican _woman_; for the humanity of these is in an inverse ratio tothat of their lords. For the women it may be urged that the sport is acustom of the country; and what country is without its cruel sports? Isit rational or consistent to weep over the sufferings of Chanticleer,while we ride gaily upon the heels of poor broken Reynard?
There are two modes of the "Correr el gallo." The first has beendescribed. The second only differs from it in the fact that the cock,instead of being tied to a tree, is buried up to his shoulders in theearth. The horsemen, as before, pass in routine--each bending from hissaddle, and striving to pluck the bird out of the ground. For the restthe conditions are the same as before.
The first cock was hung to a branch; and the competitors having takentheir places in a line, the game commenced.
Several made the attempt, and actually seized the bird's head, but thesoap foiled them.
The dragoon sergeant was once more a competitor; but whether his colonelmade any further bet upon him is not known. The Comandante had gambledenough for that day; and but for a little peculation which he enjoyedupon the mining "derechos," and other little customs dues, he would havefelt his losses still more severely. Out of the derechos, however, heknew he could square himself at the expense of the vice-regalgovernment.
The sergeant, who, as already stated, had the advantage of a tall figureand a tall horse, was able to get a full grasp at the neck of the bird;and being already provided, as was afterwards ascertained, with afistful of sand, he took the prize with him, and galloped off.
But there were swifter horses than his on the ground; and before hecould double the turning-post he was overtaken by an active vaquero, andlost a wing of his bird. Another wing was plucked from him by a secondpursuer; and he returned to the tree with nothing but a fragment left!Of course he received neither _vivas_ nor cheers.
Carlos the cibolero took no part in this contest. He knew that he hadwon glory enough for that day--that he had made both friends andenemies, and he did not desire to swell the list of either. Some of thebystanders, however, began to banter him, wishing, no doubt, to see himagain exhibit his fine horsemanship. He withstood this for some time,until two more cocks were plucked from the tree--the vaquero alreadyalluded to carrying one of them clear, and laying it at the feet of hissmiling sweetheart.
A new thought seemed now to have entered the mind of Carlos, and he wasseen riding into the lists, evidently about to take part in the nextrace.
"It will be some time before I can be present at another fiesta,"remarked he to Don Juan. "Day after to-morrow I start for the plains.So I'll take all the sport I can out of this one."
An innovation was now introduced in the game. The bird was buried inthe ground; and its long neck and sharp-pointed bill showed that it wasno cock, but a snow-white "gruya," one of the beautiful species ofherons common in these regions. Its fine tapering neck was not soiledwith soap, but left in its natural state. In this case the chances offailure lay in the fact that, loosely buried as it was, the gruya wouldnot allow its head to be approached by a hand, but jerked it from sideto side, thus rendering it no easy matter to get hold of it.
The signal being given, away went the string of horsemen! Carlos wasamong the last, but on coming up he saw the whi
te bending neck stillthere. His hand was too quick for the bird, and the next moment it wasdragged from the yielding sand, and flapping its snowy wings over thewithers of his horse.
It required not only speed on the part of Carlos, but great adroitness,to pass the crowd of horsemen, who now rushed from all points tointercept him. Here he dashed forward--there reined up--anon wheeledround a rider, and passed behind him; and, after a dozen suchmanoeuvres, the black horse was seen shooting off towards theturning-post alone. This passed, he galloped back to the goal, andholding up his prize, unstained and intact, received the applause of thespectators.
There was a good deal of guessing and wondering as to who would be therecipient of the trophy. Some girl of his own rank, conjectured thecrowd; some poblana or ranchero's daughter. The cibolero did not seemin haste to gratify their curiosity; but, after a few minutes, heastonished them all, by flinging the gruya into the air, and sufferingit to fly off. The bird rose majestically upward, and then, drawing inits long neck, was seen winging its way toward the lower end of thevalley.
It was observed that before parting with the bird Carlos had pluckedfrom its shoulders the long gossamer-like feathers that distinguish theheron species. These he was tying into a plume.
Having accomplished this, he put spurs to his horse, and, galloping upto the front of the stand, he bent gracefully forward, and deposited thetrophy at the feet of _Catalina de Cruces_!
A murmur of surprise ran through the crowd, and sharp censure followedfast. What! a cibolero,--a poor devil, of whom nothing was known,aspire to the smiles of a rico's daughter? It was not a compliment. Itwas an insult! Presumption intolerable!
And these critiques were not confined to the senoras and senoritas. Thepoblanas and rancheros were as bitter as they. These felt themselvesslighted--passed by--regularly jilted--by one of their own class.Catalina de Cruces, indeed!
Catalina--her situation was pleasant, yet painful--painful, becauseembarrassing. She smiled, then blushed, uttered a soft "_Gracias,cavallero_!" yet hesitated a moment whether to take up the trophy. Ascowling father had started to his feet on one side, on the other ascowling lover. The last was Roblado.
"Insolent!" cried he, seizing the plume, and flinging it to the earth;"insolent!"
Carlos bent down from his saddle, once more laid hold of the plume, andstuck it under the gold band of his hat. Then, turning a defiant glanceupon the officer, he said, "Don't lose your temper, Captain Roblado. Ajealous lover makes but an indifferent husband." And transferring hislook to Catalina, he added with a smile, and in a changed tone,"Gracias, senorita!"
As he said this he doffed his sombrero, and, waving it gracefully,turned his horse and rode off.
Roblado half drew his sword, and his loud "Carrajo!" along with themuttered imprecations of Don Ambrosio, reached the ears of the cibolero.But the captain was far from brave, with all his swagger; and seeingthe long _machete_ of the horseman strapped over his hips, he vented hisspite in threats only, and suffered Carlos to depart.
The incident had created no small excitement, and a good deal of angryfeeling. The cibolero had roused the indignation of the aristocracy,and the jealousy and envy of the democracy; so that, after all hisbrilliant performances, he was likely to leave the field anything but afavourite. The wild words of his strange old mother had been widelyreported, and national hatred was aroused, so that his skill calledforth envy instead of admiration. An angel indeed, should he have beento have won friendship there--he an Americano--a "heretico"--for in thisfar corner of the earth fanaticism was as fierce as in the Seven-hilledCity itself during the gloomiest days of the Inquisition!
Mayhap it was as well for Carlos that the sports were now ended, and thefiesta about to close.
In a few minutes the company began to move off. The mules, oxen, andasses, were yoked to the carretas--the rancheros and rancheras climbedinside the deep boxes; and then, what with the cracking of quirts, theshouts of drivers, and the hideous screaming of the ungreased axles, aconcert of sounds arose that would have astonished any human being,except a born native of the soil.
In half-an-hour the ground was clear, and the lean coyote might be seenskulking over the spot in search of a morsel for his hungry maw.
