Gaspar the Gaucho: A Story of the Gran Chaco

by Mayne Reid

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

  DEAD!

  Once more the sun is going down over the pampa, but still nothing seenupon it to cheer the eyes of the Senora Halberger, neither those firstmissing, nor they who went after. One after another she has seen themdepart, but in vain looks for their return.

  And now, as she stands with eyes wandering over that grassy wilderness,she can almost imagine it a maelstrom or some voracious monster, thatswallows up all who venture upon it. As the purple of twilight assumesthe darker shade of night, it seems to her as though some unearthly andinvisible hand were spreading a pall over the plain to cover her dearones, somewhere lying dead upon it.

  She is in the verandah with her son, and side by side they stand gazingoutward, as long as there is light for them to see. Even after darknesshas descended they continue to strain their eyes mechanically, butdespairingly, she more hopeless and feeling more forlorn than ever. Allgone but Ludwig! for even her nephew may not return. Where Caspar, astrong man and experienced in the ways of the wilderness, has failed tofind the lost ones, what chance will there be for Cypriano? More likesome cruel enemy has made captives of them all, killing all, one afterthe other, and he, falling into the same snare, has been sacrificed asthe rest!

  Dark as is this hour of her apprehension, there is yet a darker one instore for her; but before it there is to be light, with joy--alas!short-lived as that bright, garish gleam of sun which often precedes thewildest burst of a storm. Just as the last ray of hope has forsakenher, a house-dog, lying outstretched by the verandah starts to its feetwith a growl, and bounding off into the darkness, sets up a sonorousbaying.

  Both mother and son step hastily forward to the baluster rail, andresting hands on it, again strain their eyes outward, now as neverbefore, at the same time listening as for some signal sound, on thehearing of which hung their very lives.

  Soon they both hear and see what gives them gladness unspeakable, theirears first imparting it by a sound sweeter to them than any music, forit is the tread of horses' hoofs upon the firm turf of the plain; andalmost in the same instant they see the horses themselves, each with arider upon its back.

  The exclamation that leaps from the mother's lips is the cry of a heartlong held in torture suddenly released, and without staying to repeatit, she rushes out of the verandah and on across the patch of enclosedground--not stopping till outside the palings which enclose it. Ludwigfollowing, comes again by her side, and the two stand with eyes fixed onthe approaching forms, there now so near that they are able to make outtheir number.

  But this gives them surprise, somewhat alarming them afresh. For thereare but _three_ where there should be _four_.

  "It must be your father and Francesca, with Caspar," says the senora,speaking in doubt. "Cypriano has missed them all, I suppose. But he'llcome too--"

  "No, mother," interrupts Ludwig, "Cypriano is there. I can see a whitehorse, that must be his."

  "Gaspar then; he it is that's behind."

  She says this with a secret hope it may be so.

  "It don't look like as if Gaspar was behind," returns Ludwig, hesitatingin his speech, for his eyes, as his heart, tell him there is stillsomething amiss. "Two of them," he continues, "are men, full grown, andthe third is surely Cypriano."

  They have no time for further discussion or conjecture--no occasion forit. The three shadowy figures are now very near, and just as theforemost pulls up in front of the palings, the moon bursting forth frombehind a cloud flashes her full light upon his face, and they see it isGaspar. The figures farther off are lit up at the same time, and thesenora recognises them as her husband and nephew. A quick searchingglance carried behind to the croups of their horses shows her there isno one save those seated in the saddle.

  "Where is Francesca?" she cries out in agonised accents. "Where is mydaughter?"

  No one makes answer; not any of them speaks. Gaspar, who is nearest,but hangs his head, as does his master behind him.

  "What means all this?" is her next question, as she dashes past thegaucho's horse, and on to her husband, as she goes crying out, "Where isFrancesca? What have you done with my child?"

  He makes no reply, nor any gesture--not even a word to acknowledge herpresence! Drawing closer she clutches him by the knee, continuing herdistracted interrogatories.

  "Husband! why are you thus silent? Ludwig, dear Ludwig, why don't youanswer me? Ah! now I know. She is dead--dead!"

  "Not _she_, but _he_," says a voice close to her ear--that of Gaspar,who has dismounted and stepped up to her.

  "He! who?"

  "Alas! senora, my master, your husband."

  "O Heavens! can this be true?" as she speaks, stretching her arms up tothe inanimate form, still in the saddle--for it is fast tied there--andthrowing them around it; then with one hand lifting off the hat, whichfalls from her trembling fingers, she gazes on a ghastly face, and intoeyes that return not her gaze. But for an instant, when, with a wildcry, she sinks back upon the earth, and lies silent, motionless, themoonbeams shimmering upon her cheeks, showing them white and bloodless,as if her last spark of life had departed!