On the Pampas; Or, The Young Settlers

by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER XIV.

  TERRIBLE NEWS.

  Another two years passed over, bringing increased prosperity to theHardys. No renewal of the Indian attacks had occurred, and inconsequence an increased flow of emigration had taken place intheir neighborhood. Settlers were now established upon all the lotsfor many miles upon either side of Mount Pleasant; and even beyondthe twelve miles which the estate stretched to the south the lotshad been sold. Mr. Hardy considered that all danger of the flocksand herds being driven off had now ceased, and had therefore addedconsiderably to their numbers, and had determined to allow them toincrease without further sales until they had attained to theextent of the supporting power of the immense estate.

  Two hundred acres of irrigated land were under cultivation; thedairy contained the produce of a hundred cows; and altogether MountPleasant was considered one of the finest and most profitableestancias in the province.

  The house was now worthy of the estate; the inside fence had beenremoved fifty yards further off, and the vegetable garden to agreater distance, the includes space being laid out entirely as apleasure garden.

  Beautiful tropical trees and shrubs, gorgeous patches of flowers,and green turf surrounded the front and sides; while behind was aluxuriant and most productive orchard.

  The young Hardys had for come time given up doing any personallabor, and were incessantly occupied in the supervision of theestate and of the numerous hands employed: for them a long range ofadobe huts had been built at some little distance in the rear ofthe enclosure.

  Maud and Ethel had during this period devoted much more time totheir studies, and the time was approaching when Mrs. Hardy was toreturn with them to England, in order that they might pass a yearin London under the instruction of the best masters. Maud was nowseventeen, and could fairly claim to be looked upon as a youngwoman. Ethel still looked very much younger than her real age: anyone, indeed, would have guessed that there was at least threeyears' difference between the sisters. In point of acquirements,however, she was quite her equal, her much greater perseverancemore than making up for her sister's quickness.

  A year previously Mr. Hardy had, at one of his visits to BuenosAyres, purchased a piano, saying nothing of what he had done uponhis return; and the delight of the girls and their mother, when theinstrument arrived in a bullock cart, was unbounded. From that timethe girls practiced almost incessantly; indeed, as Charleyremarked, it was as bad as living in the house with a wholeboarding-school of girls.

  After this Mount Pleasant, which had always been considered as themost hospitable and pleasant estancia in the district, became morethan ever popular, and many were the impromptu dances got up.Sometimes there were more formal affairs, and all the ladies withintwenty miles would come in. These were more numerous than wouldhave been expected. The Jamiesons were doing well, and in turngoing for a visit to their native country, had brought out twobright young Scotchwomen as their wives.

  Mrs. Mercer was sure to be there, and four or five other Englishladies from nearer or more distant estancias. Some ten or twelvenative ladies, wives or daughters of native proprietors, would alsocome in, and the dancing would be kept up until a very late hour.Then the ladies would lie down for a short time, all the beds beinggiven up to them, and a number of shake-downs improvised; while thegentlemen would sit and smoke for an hour or two, and then, as daybroke, go down for a bathe in the river. These parties were lookedupon by all as most enjoyable affairs; and as eatables of all sortswere provided by the estate itself, they were a very slightexpense, and were of frequent occurrence. Only one thing Mr. Hardybargained for--no wines or other expensive liquors were to bedrunk. He was doing well--far, indeed, beyond his utmostexpectation--but at the same time he did not consider himselfjustified in spending money upon luxuries.

  Tea, therefore, and cooling drinks made from fruits, after thecustom of the country, were provided in abundance for the dancers;but wine was not produced. With this proviso, Mr. Hardy had noobjection to his young people having their dances frequently; andin a country where all were living in a rough way, and wine was anunknown luxury, no one missed it. In other respects the suppertables might have been admired at an English ball. Of substantialsthere was abundance--turkeys and fowls, wild duck and other game.The sweets were represented by trifle, creams, and blanc-manges;while there was a superb show of fruit--apricots, peaches,nectarines, pineapples, melons, and grapes. Among them were vasesof gorgeous flowers, most of them tropical in character, but withthem were many old English friends, of which Mr. Hardy had procuredseeds.

  Their neighbors at Canterbury were still their most intimatefriends: they were shortly, however, to lose one of them. Mr.Cooper had heard six months before of the death of his two elderbrothers in rapid succession, and he was now heir to his father'sproperty, which was very extensive. It had been supposed that hewould at once return to England, and he was continually talking ofdoing so; but he had, under one excuse or other, put off hisdeparture from time to time. He was very frequently over at MountPleasant and was generally a companion of the boys upon theirexcursions.

  "I think Cooper is almost as much here as he is at Canterbury,"Charley said, laughing, one day.

  Mrs. Hardy happened to glance at Maud, and noticed a bright flushof color on her cheeks. She made no remark at the time, but spoketo Mr. Hardy about it at night.

  "You see, my dear," she concluded, "we are still considering Maudas a child, but other people may look upon her as a woman."

  "I am sorry for this," Mr. Hardy said after a pause, "We ought tohave foreseen the possibility of such a thing. Now that it ismentioned, I wonder we did not do so before. Mr. Cooper has beenhere so much that the thing would have certainly struck us, had wenot, as you say, looked upon Maud as a child. Against Mr. Cooper Ihave nothing to say. We both like him extremely. His principles aregood, and he would, in point of money, be of course an excellentmatch for our little girl. At the same time, I cannot permitanything like an engagement. Mr. Cooper has seen no other ladiesfor so long a time that it is natural enough he should fall in lovewith Maud. Maud, on the other hand, has only seen the fifteen ortwenty men who came here; she knows nothing of the world and isaltogether inexperienced. They are both going to England, and maynot improbably meet people whom they may like very much better, andmay look upon this love-making in the pampas as a folly. At the endof another two years, when Maud is nineteen, if Mr. Cooper renewthe acquaintance in England, and both parties agree, I shall ofcourse offer no objection, and indeed should rejoice much at amatch which would promise well for her happiness."

  Mrs. Hardy thoroughly agreed with her husband, and so the matterrested for a short time.

  It was well that Mr. Hardy had been warned by his wife, for a weekafter this Mr. Cooper met him alone when he was out riding, andafter some introduction, expressed to him that he had long feltthat he had loved his daughter, but had waited until she wasseventeen before expressing his wishes. He said that he had delayedhis departure for England on this account alone, and now askedpermission to pay his addresses to her, adding that he hoped thathe was not altogether indifferent to her.

  Mr. Hardy heard him quietly to the end.

  "I can hardly say that I am unprepared for what you say, Mr.Cooper, although I had never thought of such a thing until two dayssince. Then your long delay here, and your frequent visits to ourhouse, opened the eyes of Mrs. Hardy and myself. To yourself,personally, I can entertain no objection. Still, when I rememberthat you are only twenty-six, and that for the last four years youhave seen no one with whom you could possibly fall in love, withthe exception of my daughter, I can hardly think that you have hadsufficient opportunity to know your own mind. When you return toEngland you will meet young ladies very much prettier and very muchmore accomplished than my Maud, and you may regret the haste whichled you to form an engagement out here."

  "You shake your head, as is natural that you should do; but Irepeat, you cannot at present know your own mind. If this is trueof you, it is still more tr
ue of my daughter. She is very young,and knows nothing whatever of the world. Next month she proceeds toEngland with her mother, and for the next two years she will beengaged upon finishing her education. At the end of that time Ishall myself return to England, and we shall then enter intosociety. If at that time you are still of the same way of thinking,and choose to renew our acquaintance, I shall be very happy, in theevent of Maud accepting you, to give my consent. But I must insistthat there shall be no engagement, no love-making, no understandingof any sort or kind, before you start. I put it to your honor as agentleman, that you will make no effort to meet her alone, and thatyou will say nothing whatever to her, to lead her to believe thatyou are in love with her. Only when you say good-by to her, you maysay that I have told you that as the next two years are to bepassed in study, to make up for past deficiencies, I do not wishher to enter at all into society, but that at the end of that timeyou hope to renew the acquaintance."

  Mr. Cooper endeavored in vain to alter Mr. Hardy's determination,and was at last obliged to give the required promise.

  Mr. and Mrs. Hardy were not surprised when, two or three days afterthis, Mr. Cooper rode up and said that he had come to say good-by,that he had received letters urging him to return at once, and hadtherefore made up his mind to start by the next mail from BuenosAyres.

  The young Hardys were all surprised at this sudden determination,but there was little time to discuss it, as Mr. Cooper had to startthe same night for Rosario.

  Very warm and earnest were the adieus; and the color, which hadrather left Maud's face, returned with redoubled force as he heldher hand, and said very earnestly the words Mr. Hardy had permittedhim to use.

  Then he leaped into his saddle and galloped off, waving his hand,as he crossed the river, to the group which were still standing inthe veranda watching him.

  For a few days after this Maud was unusually quiet and subdued, buther natural spirits speedily recovered themselves, and she was soonas lively and gay as ever.

  About a fortnight after the departure of Mr. Cooper an event tookplace which for awhile threatened to upset all the plans which theyhad formed for the future.

  One or other of the girls were in the habit of frequently goingover to stay for a day or two with Mrs. Mercer.

  One evening Hubert rode over with Ethel, and Mrs. Mercer persuadedthe latter to stay for the night; Hubert declining to do so, as hehad arranged with Charley to go over early to Canterbury to assistat the branding of the cattle at that station.

  In the morning they had taken their coffee, and were preparing fora start, when, just as they were mounting their horses, one of themen drew their attention to a man running at full speed toward thehouse from the direction of Mr. Mercer's.

  "What can be the matter?" Charley said. "What a strange thing thata messenger should come over on foot instead of on horseback!"

  "Let's ride and meet him, Charley," Hubert said; and putting spursto their horses, they galloped toward the approaching figure.

  As they came close to him he stumbled and fell, and lay upon theground, exhausted and unable to rise.

  The boys sprang from their horses with a feeling of vagueuneasiness and alarm.

  "What is the matter?" they asked.The peon was too exhausted to reply for a moment or two; then hegasped out, "Los Indies! the Indians!"

  The boys gave a simultaneous cry of dread.

  "What has happened? Tell us quick, man; are they attacking theestancia?" The man shook his head.

  "Estancia burnt. All killed but me," he said.

  The news was too sudden and terrible for the boys to speak. Theystood white and motionless with horror. "All killed! Oh, Ethel,Ethel!" Charley groaned.

  Hubert burst into tears. "What will mamma do?"

  "Come, Hubert," Charley said, dashing away the tears from his eyes,"do not let us waste a moment. All hope may not be over. TheIndians seldom kill women, but carry them away, and she may bealive yet. If she is, we will rescue her, if we go right acrossAmerica. Come, man, jump up behind me on my horse."

  The peon obeyed the order, and in five minutes they reached thegate. Here they dismounted.

  "Let us walk up to the house, Hubert, so as not to excitesuspicion. We must call papa out and tell him first, so that he maybreak it to mamma. If she learn it suddenly, it may kill her."

  Mr. Hardy had just taken his coffee, and was standing at the door,looking with a pleased eye upon the signs of comfort and prosperityaround him. There was no need, therefore, for them to approachnearer. As Mr. Hardy looked round upon hearing the gate shut,Charley beckoned to him to come down to them. For a moment heseemed puzzled, and looked round to see if the signal was directedto himself. Seeing that no one else was near him, he again lookedat the boys, and Charley earnestly repeated the gesture.

  Mr. Hardy, feeling that something strange was happening, ran downthe steps and hurried toward them.

  By the time he reached them, he had no need to ask questions.Hubert was leaning upon the gate, crying as if his heart wouldbreak; Charley stood with his hand on his lips, as if to check thesobs from breaking out, while the tears streamed down his cheeks.

  "Ethel?" Mr. Hardy asked.

  Charley nodded, and then said, with a great effort, "The Indianshave burned the estancia; one of the men has escaped and broughtthe news. We know nothing more. Perhaps she is carried off, notkilled."

  Mr. Hardy staggered under the sudden blow. "Carried off!" hemurmured to himself. "It is worse than death."

  "Yes, papa," Charley said, anxious to give his father's thoughts anew turn. "But we will rescue her, if she is alive, wherever theymay take her."

  "We will, Charley; we will, my boys," Mr. Hardy said earnestly, androusing himself at the thought. "I must go up and break it to yourmother; though how I shall do so, I know not. Do you give whatorders you like for collecting our friends. First, though, let usquestion this man. When was it?"

  "Last night, signor, at eleven o'clock. I had just lain down in myhut, and I noticed that there were still lights downstairs at thehouse, when, all of a sudden, I heard a yell as of a thousandfiends, and I knew the Indians were upon us. I knew that it was toolate to fly, but I threw myself out of the window, and lay flat bythe wall, as the Indians burst in. There were eight of us, and Iclosed my ears to shut out the sound of the others' cries. Up atthe house, too, I could hear screams and some pistol shots, andthen more screams and cries. The Indians were all round,everywhere, and I dreaded lest one of them should stumble upagainst me. Then a sudden glare shot up, and I knew they werefiring the house. The light would have shown me clearly enough, hadI remained where I was; so I crawled on my stomach till I came tosome potato ground a few yards off. As I lay between the rows, theplants covered me completely. In another minute or two the men'shuts were set fire to, and then I could hear a great tramping, asof horses and cattle going away in the distance. They had not allgone, for I could hear voices all night, and Indians were movingabout everywhere, in search of any one who might have escaped. Theycame close to me several times, and I feared that they would treadon me. After a time all became quiet; but I dared not move tilldaylight. Then, looking about carefully, I could see no one, and Ijumped up, and never stopped running until you met me."

  ETHEL'S CAPTURE BY THE INDIANS.]

  Mr. Hardy now went up to the house to break the sad tidings to hiswife. Charley ordered eight peons to saddle horses instantly, andwhile they were doing so he wrote on eight leaves of hispocketbook: "The Mercers' house destroyed last night by Indians;the Mercers killed or carried off. My sister Ethel with them. ForGod's sake, join us to recover them. Meet at Mercer's as soon aspossible. Send this note round to all neighbors."

  One of these slips of paper was given to each peon, and they weretold to ride for their lives in different directions, for that MissEthel was carried off by the Indians.

  This was the first intimation of the tidings that had arrived, anda perfect chorus of lamentation arose from the women, and ofexecrations of rage from the men. Jus
t at this moment Terence camerunning down from the house. "Is it true, Mister Charles? Sarahsays that the mistress and Miss Maud are gone quite out of theirminds, and that Miss Ethel has been killed by the Indians!"

  "Killed or carried away, Terence; we do not know where to yet."

  Terence was a warm-hearted fellow, and he set up a yell oflamentation which drowned the sobs and curses of the natives.

  "Hush, Terence," Charley said. "We shall have time to cry for herafterward; we must be doing now."

  "I will, Mister Charles; but you will let me go with you to searchfor her. Won't you, now, Mister Charles?"

  "Yes, Terence; I will take you with us, and leave Lopez in charge.Send him here."

  Lopez was close. He, too, was really affected at the loss of hisyoung mistress; for Ethel, by her unvarying sweetness of temper,was a favorite with every one.

  "Lopez, you will remain here in charge. We may be away two days--wemay be away twenty. I know I can trust you to look after the placejust as if we were here."

  The _capitaz_ bowed with his hand on his heart. Even thepeasants of South America preserve the grand manner and gracefulcarriage of their Spanish ancestors. "And now, Lopez, do you knowof any of the Gauchos in this part of the country who have everlived with the Indians, and know their country at all?"

  "Martinez, one of the shepherds at Canterbury, Signor Charles, waswith them for seven months; and Perez, one of Signor Jamieson'smen, was longer still."

  Charles at once wrote notes asking that Perez and Martinez mightaccompany the expedition, and dispatched them by mounted peons.

  "And now, Lopez, what amount of _charqui_ have we in store?"

  "A good stock, signor; enough for fifty men for a fortnight."

  Charqui is meat dried in the sun. In hot climates meat cannot bekept for many hours in its natural state. When a bullock is killed,therefore, all the meat which is not required for immediate use iscut up into thin strips, and hung up in the sun to dry. After thisprocess it is hard and strong, and by no means palatable; but itwill keep for many months, and is the general food of the people.In large establishments it is usual to kill several animals atonce, so as to lay in sufficient store of charqui to last for sometime.

  "Terence, go up to the house and see what biscuit there is. Lopez,get our horses saddled, and one for Terence--a good one--and givethem a feed of maize. Now, Hubert, let us go up to the house, andget our carbines and pistols."

  Mr. Hardy came out to meet them as they approached. "How are mammaand Maud, papa?"

  "More quiet and composed now, boys. They have both gone to liedown. Maud wanted sadly to go with us, but she gave way directly. Ipointed out to her that her duty was to remain here by her mother'sside. And now, Charley, what arrangements have you made?"

  Charley told his father what he had done.

  "That is right. And now we will be off at once. Give Terence ordersto bring on the meat and biscuit in an hour's time. Let him load acouple of horses, and bring a man with him to bring them back."

  "Shall we bring any rockets, papa?"

  "It is not likely that they will be of any use, Hubert; but we mayas well take three or four of each sort. Roll up a poncho, boys,and fasten it on your saddles. Put plenty of ammunition in yourbags; see your brandy flasks are full, and put out half a dozenbottles to go with Terence. There are six pounds of tobacco in thestoreroom; let him bring them all. Hubert, take our water-skins;and look in the storeroom--there are three or four spare skins;give them to Terence, some of our friends may not have thought ofbringing theirs, and the country may, for aught we know, be badlywatered. And tell him to bring a dozen colored blankets with him."

  In a few minutes all these things were attended to, and then, justas they were going out of the house, Sarah came up, her faceswollen with crying.

  "Won't you take a cup of tea and just something to eat, sir? You'vehad nothing yet, and you will want it. It is all ready in thedining-room."

  "Thank you, Sarah. You are right. Come, boys, try and make a goodbreakfast. We must keep up our hearts, you know, and we will bringour little woman back ere long."

  Mr. Hardy spoke more cheerfully, and the boys soon, too, felt theirspirits rising a little. The bustle of making preparations, theprospect of the perilous adventure before them, and the thoughtthat they should assuredly, sooner or later, come up with theIndians, all combined to give them hope. Mr. Hardy had little fearof finding the body of his child under the ruins of the Mercers'house. The Indians never deliberately kill white women, alwayscarrying them off; and Mr. Hardy felt confident that, unless Ethelhad been accidentally killed in the assault, this was the fatewhich had befallen her.

  A hasty meal was swallowed, and then, just as they were starting,Mrs. Hardy and Maud came out to say "Good-by," and an affectingscene occurred. Mr. Hardy and the boys kept up as well as theycould, in order to inspire the mother and sister with hope duringtheir absence, and with many promises to bring their missing oneback they galloped off.

  They were scarcely out of the gate, when they saw their two friendsfrom Canterbury coming along at full gallop. Both were armed to theteeth, and evidently prepared for an expedition, They wrung thehands of Mr. Hardy and his sons.

  "We ordered our horses the moment we got your note, and ate ourbreakfasts as they were being got ready. We made a lot of copies ofyour note, and sent off half a dozen men in various directions withthem. Then we came on at once. Of course most of the others cannotarrive for some time yet, but we were too anxious to hear all aboutit to delay, and we thought that we might catch you before youstarted, to aid you in your first search. Have you any more certainnews than you sent us?"

  "None," Mr. Hardy said, and then repeated the relation of thesurvivor.

  There was a pause when he had finished, and then Mr. Herries said:

  "Well, Mr. Hardy, I need not tell you, if our dear little Ethel isalive, we will follow you till we find her, if we are a year aboutit."

  "Thanks, thanks," Mr. Hardy said earnestly. "I feel a convictionthat we shall yet recover her."

  During this conversation they had been galloping rapidly toward thescene of the catastrophe, and, absorbed in their thoughts, notanother word was spoken until they gained the first rise, fromwhich they had been accustomed to see the pleasant house of theMercers. An exclamation of rage and sorrow burst from them all, asonly a portion of the chimney and a charred post or two showedwhere it had stood. The huts of the peons had also disappeared; theyoung trees and shrubs round the house were scorched up and burnedby the heat to which they had been exposed, or had been broken offfrom the spirit of wanton mischief.

  With clinched teeth, and faces pale with rage and anxiety, theparty rode on past the site of the huts, scattered round which werethe bodies of several of the murdered peons. They halted not untilthey drew rein, and leaped off in front of the house itself.

  It had been built entirely of wood, and only the stumps of thecorner posts remained erect. The sun had so thoroughly dried theboards of which it was constructed that it had burned like so muchtinder, and the quantity of ashes that remained was very small.Here and there, however, were uneven heaps; and in perfect silence,but with a sensation of overpowering dread, Mr. Hardy and hisfriends tied up their horses, and proceeded to examine these heaps,to see if they were formed by the remains of human beings.

  Very carefully they turned them over, and as they did so theirknowledge of the arrangements of the different rooms helped them toidentify the various articles. Here was a bed, there a box ofclosely-packed linen, of which only the outer part was burned, theinterior bursting into flames as they turned it over; here was thestoreroom, with its heaps of half-burned flour where the sacks hadstood.

  In half an hour they were able to say with tolerable certainty thatno human beings had been burned, for the bodies could not have beenwholly consumed in such a speedy conflagration.

  "Perhaps they have all been taken prisoners," Hubert suggested, aswith a sigh of relief they concluded their search, and turned fromth
e spot.

  Mr. Hardy shook his head. He was too well acquainted with thehabits of the Indians to think such a thing possible. Just at thismoment Dash, who had followed them unnoticed during their ride, andwho had been ranging about uneasily while they had been occupied bythe search, set up a piteous howling. All started and looked round.The dog was standing by the edge of the ditch which had been dugoutside the fence. His head was raised high in air, and he wasgiving vent to prolonged and mournful howls.

  All felt that the terrible secret was there. The boys turnedghastly pale, and they felt that not for worlds could they approachto examine the dreadful mystery.

  Mr. Hardy was almost as much affected.

  Mr. Herries looked at his friend, and then said gravely to Mr.Hardy, "Do you wait here, Mr. Hardy; we will go on."

  As the friends left them the boys turned away, and leaning againsttheir horses, covered their eyes with their hands. They dared notlook round. Mr. Hardy stood still for a minute, but the agony ofsuspense was too great for him. He started off at a run, came up tohis friends, and with them hurried on to the fence.

  Not as yet could they see into the ditch. At ordinary times thefence would have been an awkward place to climb over; now theyhardly knew how they scrambled over, and stood by the side of theditch. They looked down, and Mr. Hardy gave a short, gasping cry,and caught at the fence for support.

  Huddled together in the ditch was a pile of dead bodies, and amongthem peeped out a piece of a female dress. Anxious to relieve theirfriend's agonizing suspense, the young men leaped down into theditch, and began removing the upper bodies from the ghastly pile.

  First were the two men employed in the house; then came Mr. Mercer;then the two children and an old woman-servant; below them were thebodies of Mrs. Mercer and her brother. There were no more. Ethelwas not among them.

  When first he had heard of the massacre Mr. Hardy had said, "Betterdead than carried off," but the relief to his feelings was so greatas the last body was turned over, and that it was evident that thechild was not there, that he would have fallen had not Mr. Herrieshastened to climb up and support him, at the same time crying outto the boys, "She is not here."

  Charley and Hubert turned toward each other, and burst into tearsof thankfulness and joy. The suspense had been almost too much forthem, and Hubert felt so sick and faint that he was forced to liedown for awhile, while Charley went forward to the others. He wasterribly shocked at the discovery of the murder of the entireparty, as they had cherished the hope that Mrs. Mercer at leastwould have been carried off. As, however, she had been murdered,while it was pretty evident that Ethel had been spared, or her bodywould have been found with the others, it was supposed that poorMrs. Mercer had been shot accidentally, perhaps in the endeavor tosave her children.

  The bodies were now taken from the ditch, and laid side by sideuntil the other settlers should arrive. It was not long before theybegan to assemble, riding up in little groups of twos and threes.Rage and indignation were upon all their faces at the sight of thedevastated house, and their feelings were redoubled when they foundthat the whole of the family, who were so justly liked andesteemed, were dead. The Edwards and the Jamiesons were among theearliest arrivals, bringing the Gaucho Martinez with them. Perez,too, shortly after arrived from Canterbury, he having been out onthe farm when his master left.

  Although all these events have taken some time to relate, it wasstill early in the day. The news had arrived at six, and themessengers were sent off half an hour later. The Hardys had set outbefore eight, and had reached the scene of the catastrophe in halfan hour. It was nine o'clock when the bodies were found, and halfan hour after this friends began to assemble. By ten o'clock adozen more had arrived, and several more could be seen in thedistance coming along at full gallop to the spot.

  "I think," Mr. Hardy said, "that we had better employ ourselves,until the others arrive, in burying the remains of our poorfriends."

  There was a general murmur of assent, and all separated to look fortools. Two or three spades were found thrown down in the garden,where a party had been at work the other day. And then all lookedto Mr. Hardy.

  "I think," he said, "we cannot do better than lay them where theirhouse stood. The place will never be the site of anotherhabitation. Any one who may buy the property would choose anotherplace for his house than the scene of this awful tragedy. The gateonce locked, the fence will keep out animals for very many years."

  A grave was accordingly dug in the center of the space onceoccupied by the house. In this the bodies of Mr. Mercer and hisfamily were laid. And Mr. Hardy having solemnly pronounced suchparts of the burial service as he remembered over them, allstanding by bareheaded, and stern with suppressed sorrow, the earthwas filled in over the spot where a father, mother, brother, andtwo children lay together. Another grave was at the same time dugnear, and in this the bodies of the three servants whose remainshad been found with the others were laid.

  By this time it was eleven o'clock, and the number of those presenthad reached twenty. The greater portion of them were English, butthere were also three Germans, a Frenchman, and four Gauchos, allaccustomed to Indian warfare.

  "How long do you think it will be before all who intend to come canjoin us?" Mr. Hardy asked.

  There was a pause; then one of the Jamiesons said:

  "Judging by the time your message reached us, you must have set offbefore seven. Most of us, on the receipt of the message, forwardedit by fresh messengers on further; but of course some delayoccurred in so doing, especially as many of us may probably havebeen out on the plains when the message arrived. The persons towhom we sent might also have been out. Our friends who would belikely to obey the summons at once all live within fifteen miles orso. That makes thirty miles, going and returning. Allowing for theloss of time I have mentioned, we should allow five hours. Thatwould bring it on to twelve o'clock."

  There was a general murmur of assent.

  "In that case," Mr. Hardy said, "I propose that we eat a meal ashearty as we can before starting. Charley, tell Terence to bringthe horses with the provisions here."

  The animals were now brought up, and Mr. Hardy found that, inaddition to the charqui and biscuit, Mrs. Hardy had sent a largesupply of cold meat which happened to be in the larder, some bread,a large stock of tea and sugar, a kettle, and some tin mugs.

  The cold meat and bread afforded an ample meal, which was muchneeded by those who had come away without breakfast.

  By twelve o'clock six more had arrived, the last comer being Mr.Percy. Each newcomer was filled with rage and horror upon hearingof the awful tragedy which had been enacted.

  At twelve o'clock exactly Mr. Hardy rose to his feet. "My friends,"he said, "I thank you all for so promptly answering to my summons.I need say no words to excite your indignation at the massacre thathas taken place here. You know, too, that my child has been carriedaway. I intend, with my sons and my friends from Canterbury, goingin search of her into the Indian country. My first object is tosecure her, my second to avenge my murdered friends. A heavylesson, too, given the Indians in their own country, will teachthem that they cannot with impunity commit their depredations uponus. Unless such a lesson is given, a life on the plains will becomeso dangerous that we must give up our settlements. At the sametime, I do not conceal from you that the expedition is a mostdangerous one. We are entering a country of which we know nothing.The Indians are extremely numerous, and are daily becoming betterarmed. The time we may be away is altogether vague; for if it is ayear I do not return until I have found my child. I know that thereis not a man here who would not gladly help to rescue Ethel--notone who does not long to avenge our murdered friends. At the sametime, some of you have ties, wives and children, whom you may notconsider yourselves justified in leaving, even upon an occasionlike this. Some of you, I know, will accompany me; but if any onefeels any doubts, from the reasons I have stated--if any oneconsiders that he has no right to run this tremendous risk--let himsay so at once, and I shall respe
ct his feelings, and my friendshipand good-will will in no way be diminished."

  As Mr. Hardy ceased, his eye wandered round the circle ofstalwart-looking figures around him, and rested upon the Jamiesons.No one answered for a moment, and then the elder of the brothersspoke:

  "Mr. Hardy, it was right and kind of you to say that any who mightelect to stay behind would not forfeit your respect and esteem, butI for one say that he would deservedly forfeit his own. We have allknown and esteemed the Mercers. We have all known, and I may say,loved you and your family. From you we have one and all receivedvery great kindness and the warmest hospitality. We all know andlove the dear child who has been carried away; and I say that hewho stays behind is unworthy of the name of a man. For myself andbrother, I say that if we fall in this expedition--if we never seteyes upon our wives again--we shall die satisfied that we have onlydone our duty. We are with you to the death."

  A loud and general cheer broke from the whole party as the usuallyquiet Scotchman thus energetically expressed himself. And each manin turn came up to Mr. Hardy and grasped his hand, saying, "Yourstill death."

  Mr. Hardy was too much affected to reply for a short time; then hebriefly but heartily expressed his thanks. After which he went on:"Now to business. I have here about three hundred pounds ofcharqui. Let every man take ten pounds, as nearly as he can guess.There are also two pounds of biscuit a man. The tea, sugar, andtobacco, the kettle, and eighty pounds of meat, I will put on to aspare horse, which Terence will lead. If it is well packed, theanimal will be able to travel as quickly as we can."

  There was a general muster round the provisions. Each man took hisallotted share. The remainder was packed in two bundles, andsecured firmly upon either side of the spare horse; the tobacco,sugar, and tea being enveloped in a hide, and placed securelybetween them, and the kettle placed at the top of all. Then,mounting their horses, the troop sallied out; and, as Mr. Hardywatched them start, he felt that in fair fight by day they couldhold their own against ten times their number of Indians.

  Each man, with the exception of the young Hardys, who had theirColt's carbines, had a long rifle; in addition to which all hadpistols--most of them having revolvers, the use of which, since theHardys had first tried them with such deadly effect upon thepampas, had become very general among the English settlers. Nearlyall were young, with the deep sunburned hue gained by exposure onthe plains. Every man had his poncho--a sort of native blanket,used either as a cloak or for sleeping in at will--rolled up beforehim on his saddle. It would have been difficult to find a moreserviceable-looking set of men; and the expression of their faces,as they took their last look at the grave of the Mercers, bodedvery ill for any Indian who might fall into their clutches.