There was little time for talking, for already the maddened herd was almost within range of the shotgun. For a few seconds Dudley had contemplated flight, and made ready to follow his employer should he run. But seeing that he proposed to stand fast, he loaded his gun, opened the flap of his holster, and faced the herd. It was a terrifying spectacle, and it wanted no experience to tell him that if the beasts were not stopped they would stamp everything in their path flat with the ground. He felt his pulses throbbing wildly, while a bead of perspiration collected in the furrow on his forehead and trickled down his cheek. The time for action had arrived. He lifted his gun, aimed at the far right of the herd, and pressed the two triggers, one after the other, sending a hail of pellets into the faces of the animals. But he might have fired peas for all the effect the shots had. A few beasts on the far flank swerved away into the open, and came to a halt, as if wondering what all the commotion was about. But the remainder galloped madly on, as if they saw the two solitary figures standing before them and had made up their minds to annihilate them.
"Again!" said Mr. Blunt quietly. "Give them another charge, lad."
Crash! Bang! This time the range was much closer, and though the shot did not separate so much, they struck the animals on the right with far greater force. One, a massive beast, received a portion of one charge full in the face, and it may have happened that one of the pellets reached the brain by way of the eye. In any case the ponderous animal fell on his horns, crumpled up, and rolled over and over, while two near at hand rose for a moment into the air and bellowed with pain. A second later a score of the beasts had poured over the prostrate animal, had tripped, recovered their feet, and tripped again. Fifty almost were down, and their startled bellows seemed to scare the remainder of the herd. They swept in one dense mass to the left, three of the gauchos galloping for their lives in front of them, while those on the right flank came thundering over the pampas, kicking their heels within six feet of Dudley and his employer.
"Phew! That was the nearest shave I have ever had," exclaimed Mr. Blunt, lifting his hat and wiping the perspiration from his brow. "I thought it was all up with us, and was preparing to make a desperate leap on to the back of the nearest beast, for I have known one man to escape in that way. Then your lucky shot set the matter right. Lad, you did well again. How did you feel? Inclined to bolt?"
"Never in a bigger funk in all my life, sir," came the candid answer, and indeed Dudley was shaking with excitement. "I expected to be smashed into a jelly, and can't believe now that they have run past us. The life of a gaucho is not all honey after all. I suppose many are killed in this way?"
"Scores have been trampled to death, and many are gored by bulls, or have their backs broken by a bucking horse. Then they are very apt to quarrel, and the Spanish blood they have leads them to let their tempers loose and draw their knives. Yes, the gaucho seldom lives to an old age. I like him. He is honest, hearty, and a good worker, and he has pluck. But let us enquire as to damages. There will be little branding to-day, Dudley. It will be three hours before the herd is rounded up again."
They returned to their camp, still congratulating themselves on their fortunate escape. It took but a few minutes to fetch their horses, which had not been stampeded like many of the others, and in a little while they were off, cantering away across the pampas.
"We will go on into the Indian country," said Mr. Blunt. "There are often herds of wild horses there, and if we are lucky enough to spy one, we will bring a party out to round them up. We don't do a great deal of breeding on the rancho; Indian raids make that such a profitless game. We rely on the wild animals always roaming the pampas."
It was a glorious day, with a bright sun and a mild breeze. The scent of wild grasses was in the air, while one huge vista of pampas swept before the eye, with a few clumps of trees away in the distance, for Dudley was in the middle of one of those vast plains of South America famed to this day as grazing lands for cattle, and then the home of herds of wild beasts, including cattle, horses, and deer of many descriptions. In addition there were the Indians, an ever-present danger to the settler. It was not long before the two horsemen arrived at one of the collections of trees, and, skirting this, they mounted a rise in the land till they were near the top.
"Our look-out station," said Mr. Blunt, sliding from his saddle and leaving the beast to graze. "If I have sighted one herd of horses from here I have sighted a dozen. Creep to the top and look over. One does not require to be so careful nor so cunning as if one were dealing with Indians. They would spot a head instantly, and then——"
"We should have a crowd down upon us," burst in Dudley. "I'll practise going carefully, as if there were real danger."
He too slid to the ground, and soon the two were close to the top. They went on their faces, and, crouching close to the ground, slowly made their way to the extreme summit. Then, as if by common impulse, they ducked, looked at each other, and gave low whistles of surprise. Lucky it was for them, too, that they had had the caution to advance so warily, for otherwise they would have been in a precarious situation. They were out in search of horses, and as they topped the rise their eyes fell upon what they sought—a fine collection of some twenty beasts, with flowing manes, and with such freedom of action as they ran that Dudley was enchanted. But there was something else besides. Not thirty paces away sat four men who were half-naked. Their backs were turned to the top of the hill, and they were watching the horses attentively. The beasts were trotting towards them, but when Dudley looked again they had halted, and stood with heads in air, their ears pricked up, listening attentively, and now and again breaking into a startled trot. Mr. Blunt saw something more, for he took Dudley by the sleeve and pulled the fringe of his coat. Then he pointed, and, following the direction, the young Englishman beside him saw a number of specks in the distance. They were mounted men, slowly stealing up behind the horses.
"Come away. Slip back again and mount."
Mr. Blunt hardly whispered the words, and promptly crawled away, worming his long, lanky figure towards his horse. Dudley followed suit, rose to his feet, and vaulted into the saddle.
"Walk!" whispered his employer. "Hush! Not a sound."
They took their horses at a slow pace for some three hundred yards, casting a glance behind them every few seconds. Then Mr. Blunt turned to Dudley.
"Are you ready for a fast ride?" he asked shortly.
Our hero shook his reins. "Certainly, sir!" he said. "Where to?"
"Back to the gauchos. Gallop all you can, and bring them back. I don't want to attack the Indians, but I want to let them see that I have plenty of men. And more than that, they stole some two hundred horses from me eight months ago. I must have that herd down below, and so retaliate. It does not do to let the Indian have it all his own way. Off you go!"
"Alone, sir?"
"Yes, alone."
"And you, sir?"
"Alone, I said," came the curt answer.
Dudley swung his animal round, touched him ever so gently with the rowel of his spur, and went off at a gallop. He would have liked to ask what his employer was going to do, and felt anxious about him and disinclined to leave him alone. But Mr. Blunt said what he meant. He was a man of few words, as a rule, and those few were very much to the point. Dudley had to be contented with that, and with an occasional glance behind him till the solitary figure was lost to sight.
"Wanted to argue!" exclaimed Mr. Blunt, when he had gone, a little smile on his lips. "That chap's a sticker. There are many men whom I have met who would have bolted from those cattle, and would have been rolled and stamped till they were as flat as sheets. It's trying work to stand and see a whole mass of heads and feet charging down, and if he had bolted I could have forgiven him. That chap's a sticker, I say, and he's come out here with the same idea as youngsters of his age and of our race have, wherever they be. They know it's right to stick to a friend, whatever the danger. That's why he doesn't fancy leaving me behind. As if I were a chicken!"
He smiled grimly as he swung his long rifle round to the front, opened the breech, and popped in a cartridge. This man knew that the time for shooting had not yet arrived, and he was not going to be hurried. He sat like a sentinel, the butt of his weapon at his hip, and neither man nor horse moved. And there Dudley and the thirty gauchos he brought back with him found their employer.
"Good!" said Mr. Blunt. "That number will scare the Indians. Now, boys," he went on, "I don't want to make bad blood, which means that I don't want to kill any of these fellows. All we want is to scare them, and to drive them off. They must have the horses rounded up by now, and we will take them over. The lesson will be a useful one. Perhaps if we are successful, they will leave us alone for a time."
At a signal from him a group of the gauchos held in their horses, while the remainder filed off in two lines, passing to left and to right of the wood. Then, having allowed them to gain some distance, Mr. Blunt walked his horse up to the ridge and clambered to the top. Ten minutes later there was a shout as one of the Indians below saw the group of gauchos, a shout which was taken up in all directions. For the Indians, some forty in number, had now come quite close to the hillock, and had drawn in the circle which they had thrown about the herd of horses. Indeed, in a little while they would have been at work with their bolas, or would have been driving the animals back to their own country. To be disturbed at such a moment must have been galling in the extreme. Cries and shouts of rage proceeded from each man, and as Dudley came to the top of the ridge, and was fully exposed, a shot rang out some fifty feet away. The bullet shaved the tip of his chin, drawing a thin line of blood, punched a neat little piece out of his left ear, and one of larger size out of the brim of his hat. Then, having done its worst, it flew on into space, buzzing and screeching as it went, for it was of native manufacture, all angled and rough.
"You might have been shaving," laughed Mr. Blunt as Dudley felt his chin with the tips of his fingers, and then touched his ear. "A miss is as good as a mile, my lad, and a shot like that will make you as steady under fire on future occasions as the oldest soldier. Hurt?"
"Not a bit, sir," came the ready answer. "My word, that fellow must have spotted me as I came over the top!"
"You may be sure of that. He could have fired at one of the gauchos. An Indian likes better to kill a white man. But look at them running. They have seen the other parties."
The approach had been well timed, in fact, for hardly had the party appeared on the crest when the others rode from either side of the wood. The Indians looked at first as if they would resist the approach of the strangers, but, seeing their numbers, and having a huge dislike to warfare in the open, they put spurs to their animals, and, even as Dudley wiped the blood from his ear and chin, they went galloping for their lives across the pampas. Mr. Blunt at once waved his hat over his head, and instantly the two parties below set their horses at a fast gallop, and before the herd of frightened animals below could disperse they had surrounded them.
"Better than I had hoped for," exclaimed Mr. Blunt. "We will drive the beasts back to the corral, and then you shall see some fun. It looks cruel, and in fact it is cruel, to break in these wild animals; but we must have horses. To-morrow we shall turn out the stallions and mares, and select the best of the young horses."
An hour later the whole party was returning, the men spread widely across the pampas, and enclosing in their circle the twenty or more wild animals which the Indians had rounded up. As dusk was falling they rode over the boundary line of the rancho, and with dexterous use of their whips, and by dint of much shouting and spurring, managed to drive their catch into a huge corral, several of which had been built at different parts of the estate.
"They will be secure there for the night, and we can leave them," said Mr. Blunt. "Let us get our supper and turn in. I don't think we need fear another charge from the cattle, but if you are looking for excitement to-morrow I fancy I can supply it. Come along, lad! We have had a grand day, one which you will not forget in a hurry, for you have smelled powder, and tasted the bullet of one of our Indians."
He laughed heartily as he slid to the ground, while Dudley carried the fingers of one hand to his chin and ear. The wounds smarted a little, but nothing more, and very soon he had forgotten them as he bustled about the fire. In addition, his thoughts were distracted by the recollection of the horses which they had captured, and by his friend's promise of excitement on the morrow.
The sun was shining brightly on the following morning as Dudley stamped out the remains of the fire, for the gauchos and Mr. Blunt had impressed upon him the need of great care in that respect.
"The grass flares at once," said Pietro, when warning him, "and I have seen a gringo set the pampas on fire and have to ride for his life. Then scores of gauchos have had to gather, and for days perhaps the battle has gone on between them and the flames. The señor must cut the grass in a circle always before lighting the thistle tops, or he must choose a rocky place. Then he must always stamp out the embers, or the wind may carry a small portion, or animals kick the hot ashes into the grass."
Dudley carefully followed out the directions given him, and then sauntered off to the corral, carrying his huge spurs now with absolute ease and comfort, and being, in fact, quite unconscious of them. He found the gauchos collecting in preparation for the day's work, and as Mr. Blunt had not yet arrived, these men of the pampas seized the opportunity of seeing for themselves what the newcomer could do.
"There are no wagers this time, señor," said Pietro, standing beside Dudley with an unconscious air of pride about him, as if it were he who had introduced the latest gringo, and was responsible for his actions and for his ability. "The men have asked me how long you have been in the country, and they can scarcely believe that you are such a shot. I have told them, and so have the comrades who looked on, how you beat Giono. But no; they cannot credit the statements."
"And I cannot blame them," came the answer. "Of course it is funny to find a gringo able to shoot. But then you can let the gauchos know that Mr. Blunt gave me heaps of practice on the voyage out. I suppose, too, that there are some fellows who get hold of a knack quickly. For instance, some men can ride almost at once, while others can never manage a horse."
"That may be true in your country, señor, but not in this. Here we gauchos ride from infancy. There was a time, no doubt, before the Spaniards came, and introduced horses, when the Indian knew nothing about riding. But nowadays we never walk far. Horses are cheap. An active man who can wield a bolas can always borrow a mount and go out on the pampas to make a catch. Then he has merely to break in the animal. I said that we ride from infancy. I remember that the very first time I ever mounted a horse was when I was tiny, and far too small to reach his back in the ordinary way. Fortunately he was a quiet beast, for as he cropped the grass in front of my father's hut I caught him by the tail, and with the help of a brother, as small as myself, I swarmed up on to his quarters. That, señor, was my first attempt. As to the knack of shooting, every gaucho can shoot, but it is not all, or even many who have an eye and a hand such as yours. The gift is a fine one; I wish I had it. But the señor will do what the men wish?"
"Certainly, I'll do my best. That shot at the flying pith ball was more or less of a fluke, but I might manage it again. At any rate I'll try."
He pulled his revolver from his pocket as the men gathered round, and then stood nursing the barrel just as he had done on the previous occasion. Pietro himself threw the bolas as before, and to Dudley's delight, and, to be honest, to his amazement, he had the good fortune to strike the pith ball at the first shot and shatter it into a hundred or more pieces.
"Bueno! That is shooting, comrades," exclaimed the big, melancholy-looking man who had shaken hands with him on the previous day. "The señor can shoot, and by all accounts he is brave and can swim. Who knows, perhaps he can ride also. Whatever more he can do he is certainly the best gringo we have ever seen. Let the señor take the advice of an old gaucho. Let him learn to draw his weapon swiftly. Therein lies the secret of safety and of victory when dealing with the rough men of the pampas. Now we shall hope to show him how we ride."
He went into the corral with a dozen of his comrades, Pietro being amongst them, while Mr. Blunt came up to Dudley's side. Together they watched as the gauchos inspected the captive horses, their trained eyes picking out the younger and more suitable animals. As for the poor beasts themselves, they were excessively wild, and now that so many strange figures surrounded them they were almost mad with terror, all save one grand animal, the father of the herd. He stood with head lifted and ears pricked up, his eyes blazing; and presently, as the gauchos approached, he gave a snort of rage and dashed at them.
"Watch and you will see some quick work and some fun," said Mr. Blunt. "If that wild fellow were to catch any of the men it would go hard with them. Look at them running."
The gauchos took to their heels as the big horse made for them, and, separating as well as possible, they ran with all their speed to the rail of the corral. The majority reached it without incident, but it happened that one of them, as he ran, tripped over the trailing thong of his bolas, and went down with a crash. He was up in another second, but by then the beast was close at hand, and as Dudley watched he saw it spin round on its fore legs, as if it were a top, and lash out furiously with its heels. The aim was so true, and the manoeuvre so quickly carried out that it was wonderful that the gaucho was not struck. But he had not worked on the pampas for nothing, and no doubt he had seen many a similar adventure. Seeing that he could not escape, he watched the pursuing horse, and as the maddened brute twisted on its fore legs he threw himself on his face, the heels swishing a foot over his back. Then he rolled over and over, sprang to his feet, and rushed on again, reaching the rail of the corral as the horse came within striking distance again.
"He will be killed," shouted Dudley in his excitement. "The brute will kick the life out of him."
"He will escape. Redos knows the game," was Mr. Blunt's calm rejoinder. "A new hand would attempt to clamber over; our friend knows that that would be fatal."
The gaucho was, in fact, well able to take care of himself. As the horse twisted on its feet again he threw himself on the ground, and, repeating his previous tactics, rolled under the rail into safety, while the heels swished overhead and struck the rail with a clatter to be heard all over the corral.
"They will eject that fellow as a first precaution," said Mr. Blunt. "There goes the first bolas. Pietro is not the lad to make a mess of such a matter."
The gaucho to whom he had referred had taken his station on the second rail of the corral, some little way to the left of the angry horse, and could be seen swinging the two leaden balls of his bolas, waiting for a favorable opportunity to cast. It came in a few seconds. The beast still watched the man who had escaped, and, as he moved towards Pietro, trotted along beside the corral fence, snorting loudly, and eyeing him in no friendly manner. Once, in fact, he dashed open-mouthed in his direction, only to be brought up short by the stout fence. That was Pietro's opportunity, and he seized upon it. The balls swished overhead and suddenly darted forward. Dudley saw them separate, and in a moment they had twined round the neck and fore legs of the horse, wrapping the plaited thongs so thoroughly that escape was impossible. But the beast could still use its legs, and, startled by the blow of the balls, and by the thongs, it twisted round and made off at a furious pace, plunging as it went. But it was not to go far. Pietro had used his bolas before, and seeing that his aim was good, he had at once taken a turn of the thong round one of the posts, and a strong grip of the slack end, so that when the horse came to the full extent of the line he could bring him up short, and yet not so suddenly as to break the leather. Crash! The big beast staggered, rose high in the air, and then fell backwards, lashing with all four legs. It was up again in an incredibly short space of time, and then the same process was repeated. It darted away, was brought up with a jerk, and stood glaring about it, choking with the pressure of the thongs.
"He has made his fight, and is done for," said Mr. Blunt. "The men will slip a leather noose into his mouth, and will so hobble his legs with their bolas that he will be as helpless as a foal. Then they will drag him out of the corral. It is absolutely necessary to do that, for, as you see, he considers himself the guardian of the herd. He would kick any other horse to pieces that dared come near his flock out in the open, and here he would kill many of the gauchos if he were not banished. Look! there goes another bolas. He will be wound up so completely soon that he will have no more room for astonishment."
Dudley could not help but admire the dexterity and the courage of the gauchos. They tackled the big horse with method, and before very long had it completely at their command. Then, choking still, and half-stifled by a noose the grip of which could be increased at any instant, they dragged it to the opening of the corral by means of the thong passed over its chin, and with a quick movement set it free. A whip cracked behind it, and in an instant the noble brute was careering away. Half a dozen mares that were too old to be of any use were quickly disposed of, the gauchos mounting their horses and cutting them out from the herd. And then the real work of the day commenced.
"There are some who would let the beasts run wild in the corrals for a month or so," said Mr. Blunt. "But there is no object in delaying, for they will be as wild and unruly then as they are now. You will see how we deal with them. In a month they will be useful animals, and as rideable as any we possess. But the task of breaking them in is no light one. Men are specially selected for it, and receive so much pay per animal; for it is dangerous work, and many gauchos are killed at it."
Dudley could believe that when half an hour had passed, and he had had an opportunity of seeing what actually occurred.
"The first thing is to get a halter on their heads, and a leather bit in their mouths, señor," said Pietro, coming to his side. "Then the saddle must be fitted. That troubles them more perhaps than does the bit. Look, now, at the young horse our friend is selecting."
The big gaucho who had shown his friendliness was striding about in the corral, and eyeing the wild young horses there with the utmost care. Presently he selected a fine beast, well grown, and possessing a large amount of bone and muscle. It was as wild almost as the first had been, but not quite so courageous, for it kept its distance from these men. However, it was gradually driven into a corner, and then, finding its tormentors closing in, it swung round and galloped past them.
"A fine shot, señor! Our comrade can use the bolas," sang out Pietro, as the tall gaucho swung his implement and flung it at the heels of the horse. In a moment the animal was down, its legs entwined by the thongs, and as it lay there helplessly a halter was placed over its head, and then a bit of strong but soft leather was placed in its mouth.
"It would never do to use an iron one, señor," explained Pietro. "That would be asking too much of a horse. See how he frets now. But he has worse to bear, and in a moment there will be a struggle."
Having safely placed the bit in position, the big gaucho knotted the reins on the neck of the beast so that they would be ready to hand when the moment came to mount. Then he beckoned to a comrade, who ran up with the saddle. At the same moment three of the gauchos took firm hold of the halter by means of the rope attached to it and pulled till the animal was lying almost on its heels.
"On with the saddle," sang out their leader, and at the word the flaps were dropped on either side.
"Now let go the heels."
The thongs which encircled its legs were carefully unwound, leaving the horse free to rise. But it lay for a few seconds, bewildered at such unaccustomed treatment. Then, feeling more freedom in its legs, it rose to its feet with a jerk, and stood looking about, uncertain how to act or where to run. The big gaucho took instant advantage of the delay. Speaking in a soothing voice to the animal, he stepped silently to its side, stretched under the belly, and made the girths fast. Then he placed a hand on the neck, unknotted the reins, and leaped into the saddle with an agile bound. The spell under which the poor beast labored was broken instantly. It staggered under the weight for one brief second, and then rose on its hind legs till it seemed that it would topple over.
"The real fight begins now," said Pietro, who still stood beside Dudley. "Our friend has work before him, for that is a strong young horse, which will not give in without a struggle. Ah, he has his stirrups, and his feet are well home! Our comrade is one of the best of horse breakers."
Dudley watched the scene which followed with breathless interest, for he had never seen its like. He had heard of cowboys and their feats of horsemanship, but had never conceived it possible that any man could keep in his saddle as on this occasion. For the horse was maddened. The load on his back terrified it, and for a quarter of an hour it raged up and down the corral, rising on its heels, bucking, and giving such enormous leaps that had it attempted the same close to the rails it would have easily cleared them. And all the while the gaucho clung like a leech to it, while the cruel rowels of his spurs struck the heaving flanks incessantly, till the blood trickled from many a wound.
"ALL THE WHILE THE GAUCHO CLUNG LIKE A LEECH TO IT""ALL THE WHILE THE GAUCHO CLUNG LIKE A LEECH TO IT"
"It is no time for soft measures, Dudley," said Mr. Blunt. "It is kinder to be harsh now, for once and all, than constantly to repeat the cruelty. That horse is getting beaten. In a couple of hours he will be docile. How would you care to try your horsemanship?"
"Not at all," was the candid answer. "I should be sprawling after the first half-minute. But you said he would be beaten in two hours. Will he be able to go on plunging and bucking for such a time?"
"He might, but our object is to wind him. The gaucho will take him for a gallop and give him his head."
The time had apparently come for this portion of the breaking-in, and a few moments later there was a warning shout from the struggling gaucho, a number of the men lined up between the other horses and the exit, and then the animal he rode was steered out of the corral. Once outside there was nothing to limit its pace, and it set off at a furious gallop, lashed into frenzy by the whip which the gaucho now used, and smarting under the cruel rowels of the spurs.
"He will go miles," said Mr. Blunt, "and when he returns he will be like a naughty schoolboy who has come to school for the first time after being given free play at home. He will have met with his first master, and will be aching after his very first lesson. In a week he will be a likely horse, and in a month he will whinny a welcome to the man who now treats him so harshly. Let us go along the corral and watch the other men."
Nearly a dozen other horses were meanwhile being roped in, and for the next two hours Dudley watched the same process repeated, but with variations. Sometimes a horse had less spirit, and was beaten very early, even consented to trot round the corral without attempting to get rid of its rider. But in every case, whatever the fight shown, they were taken out of the corral for a long burst over the pampas. Soon the first one was seen returning, limping over the grass, and looking as if it could barely drag one leg after the other. Indeed the poor brute had been ridden to a finish, and could scarcely reach the corral. It was taken to one corner, the bit slipped from its mouth and the saddle from its back. At once it lay down on the ground, disdaining the fresh grass placed beside it.
"He is hopelessly beaten and as tired as a dog," said Mr. Blunt. "He will lie there for twenty-four hours perhaps, and will not touch a morsel of feed, nor any water. Then he will recover, and our big friend will be there to talk kindly to him, to encourage him, and to comfort him with a bundle of sweet grass. Now, what do you think of our methods of taming horses?"
"They are utterly unlike any I had ever conceived. They look very cruel at first sight, but I can see that in the end it is better and easier for the horse to be beaten outright, than to be subdued by a series of attempts each one of which must terrify him. It will be a long time before I shall be able to ride like these gauchos."
"You are right there, lad, for one cannot pick up, even at your young age, a thing with which these fine fellows may be said to grow up. They are born riders, and they have need to be, for a bucking wild horse is no easy beast to sit on. Now we will return to the cattle and watch the branding. These are all things that I want you to learn to do or to be able to criticize, for in a little while you will be the agent in charge during my absence."
Two months later Dudley had become quite an old hand on the rancho, and was by no means a gringo any longer. Indeed, thanks to his encounter with Giono, he had come to the gauchos employed by Mr. Blunt with a strong and telling introduction, an introduction which appealed to these wild men of the pampas far better than wealth would have done. They admired a man who could shoot and who had courage. They liked to see a youngster conquer difficulties, and they had watched Dudley as he gained no mean mastership over horses. Then they had seen him under fire, and had noted with what indifference he treated his wound.
"He is a gringo who meets with our approval, and whom we can obey," said Pietro one night as the gauchos were collected round the fire. "He has no airs and graces. He is glad to meet each one of us, to shake hands, and to chat. He is different from some of the stuck-up fools who come our way on occasion."
Thanks to the friendship of the gauchos, and to his own energy, our hero very soon became of the greatest value to his employer, till at length he was appointed his overseer, and had complete management of the rancho.
"It gives you a good deal of responsibility, which is a thing which every lad ought to be able to take, and it also lets the men see that I have confidence in you," said Mr. Blunt. "That encourages them to look to you as a leader and master, and I'm glad indeed to find such a friendly feeling amongst you all."
One day Dudley had ridden to the far western boundary of the rancho, and hearing the news from one of the gauchos that horses had been seen far out on the pampas, he pressed on till he came to the hill from the summit of which he and his employer had once before seen a herd. None were in sight, though he imagined he saw some dark specks in the distance, which might be horses.
"We are in want of some," he said to himself, "and so I think I had better go ahead. If those are horses I shall know within two hours, and then could be back with the gauchos in the morning."
He shook his reins and trotted on for some miles, when, judging that he was now near enough to the objects he had seen in the distance, he made for a slight rise and clambered to the summit. He had hardly reached it when he was startled by a loud report, by a puff of smoke a few yards to his right, and at the same instant by a curious movement in his hat. It jerked back suddenly, spun round, and then settled on his head again in the most extraordinary and disconcerting manner. There was a shout, and then from right and left a chorus of frantic yells. Figures sprang up from the hollows and the long grass, while twenty horsemen galloped from behind a small clump of trees.
"Indians! A hundred of them perhaps!" was Dudley's startled exclamation. "I shall have to run for my life."
He took to his heels at once, and raced down the hillock towards his horse, the gun which he carried over his shoulders pounding against his back. He had fifty yards to cover, and long before he had gained his mount the Indian who had fired at him had reached the top of the hillock and had thrown himself on one knee. There came the ring of an iron ramrod, for this savage was armed with an old-fashioned muzzle-loader. Then followed the bellow of the piece, while a ball hummed over the pampas, missed our hero by little more than an inch, and, flying on, struck his horse just in front of the saddle, causing him to rear up, give a startled neigh, and then trot on a few paces.
"Whoa! Steady, horse!" shouted Dudley, knowing that his life depended on his mount. "Steady, boy! I'm coming."
It was a fortunate thing for him that he had made a point of accustoming his mount to his voice, for otherwise the frightened animal would have bolted. As it was it stood irresolute, listening to Dudley's words, its ears pricked up and its eyes cast back at the figures now pouring over the summit. There were at least forty dismounted Indians, and a rattling volley came from their muzzle-loaders as the fugitive reached the side of his horse, the bullets whizzing overhead and on either side, but missing man and animal by good chance. Dudley vaulted into his saddle promptly, clutched at his reins, and, turning his face towards the distant rancho, set spurs to the flanks of his horse. And then commenced a flight which was all too exciting for the young fellow who was being chased.
Bang! Bang! Another volley rattled from the direction of the hillock, a scattered, irregular volley, broken by shouts and wild yells. Then there was a dull thud and the horse sprang into the air and then galloped on at an even greater pace, for it had been stung by a bullet which had struck it on the quarter. However, the range was rather far for a muzzle-loader, and it happened that the wound was only a superficial one.
"Steady, boy!" cried Dudley, taking good hold of his reins and looking round. "We have a long gallop before us and we had better be careful. Steady! Their horsemen are not in sight."
Pulling gently at the mouth of the excited steed he managed to steady its pace a little, till it was bounding at a good gallop over the pampas. It was a fine beast, and capable of a long race, but not at full speed all the way. Dudley knew that, and like the jockey who has a good horse beneath him, and other fine ones to beat, he determined to husband the strength of his mount, so as to keep it comfortably ahead of the pursuers as far as the rancho.
A minute later a mob of shrieking Indians burst over the top of the hillock and came galloping down, their arms waving in the air, guns flourishing overhead, and their bodies bent low in the saddle. They were a set of cut-throats in appearance, and bellowed and shrieked in a manner which gave some indication of their ferocity. But no one who watched their mad pursuit could have failed to admire them to some extent. The men were part and parcel of their horses. They rode on a strip of leather for the most part, and had no stirrups. Their knees lay close to their horses and they sat as if they were glued to their places. There was an easy swing and poise about them, too, which told that they trusted entirely to grip and to balance, and were thus able to do without saddle and stirrups.
"A nasty-looking lot of beggars," thought Dudley, "and well mounted, as they always are. It will be a close race, and very soon I shall have to press my horse. The fellows haven't saddles either. I wish I hadn't. It gives them an advantage, for I carry extra weight."
That set him thinking, for the native saddle used by the gauchos was a somewhat heavy and cumbersome affair, and, to one used to an English hunting saddle, it was by no means too comfortable. He turned again to watch the Indians, noticing that already quite a number had commenced to fall to the rear. Then he bent towards his horse's neck and slid his left hand down to the buckle which secured the girth.
"It could be done," he said to himself. "I could unbuckle the strap and so loosen the saddle. The thing is, could I manage to pass it backwards without toppling over?"
He thought again, and, as if to practise the movement slipped his toes from the stirrups, for he had often ridden without the latter and knew that he would not tumble. A little consideration showed him that the feat he contemplated was possible, and knowing well that if he intended to relieve his horse of some weight it would be wiser to do so now, at the very commencement of the struggle, he promptly slid his hand down to the buckle again and in a minute had it loosened. He gripped the neck of his mount with the hand which held the reins, and, leaning forward, lifted himself, while with the free hand he pushed the saddle backwards. Once he swerved dangerously, for the task was no easy one, and at the sight a howl came from the pursuing mob.
"Shout away!" cried Dudley, as he regained his balance. "You've not got me yet, and if I can prevent you, well, I will."
One more effort and the saddle was behind him. A touch, and it, together with his poncho and blanket and a couple of heavy saddle bags, overbalanced and fell to the ground with a crash. His gallant beast was now on more even terms with those ridden by the Indians, and as he felt the relief he tossed his head and pulled at the bit.
"Steady, lad!" shouted his rider again. "We're keeping just nicely ahead, and there is no occasion to do more. They are getting broken up a little. Some are being left behind."
His knees were close in to his horse's side now, and he bent low, till his figure hardly caught the wind. Every two or three seconds he turned his head to watch the Indians, and noted that the worst mounted were already being left in the rear, while those who were foremost had not gained an inch. They were two hundred yards behind, galloping hard; but though he looked carefully he could not see a whip used, nor did they seem to wear spurs.
"Wily foxes," he said, "they are doing the same thing! They are carefully holding in their animals, probably thinking that they will tire mine out. That will suit me well, for the rancho is not more than six miles away now, and we can keep this pace up for a longer distance."
He began to feel more confident, and though the shouts and screams of the pursuers made him feel inclined to use his spurs, and force the pace, he went on as before, checking his speed by theirs, disregarding the reports of the weapons which they occasionally snapped at him, and always maintaining the same distance in advance. But he was by no means out of the woods, as he was shortly to learn. The Indians had seen him free his horse of the saddle, and had increased their angry shouts. But when three miles had been covered, the dozen or more who still remained had settled down to a grim silence. They could not afford to waste their breath, nor could they reload their weapons at that pace. Instead, they began to let their horses out little by little, and very soon they were using their whips, sending their animals along at breakneck pace.
"Time for me to push along," thought Dudley. "In a few minutes I ought to be in the rancho and among friends, so I have only to keep going for a little while. Come along, boy!"
This time the rowels of his spurs touched the flanks, and his beast increased its pace, and for a time held the distance it had gained at the first. One by one the pursuing Indians dropped off, the pace being too hot for their horses, till three only were left. But these were beautifully mounted, and, now that the crisis of the affair had arrived, they showed that there was still a little pace to be squeezed out of their horses. Their whips cracked, their bony heels went to the flanks, and their beasts steadily drew up to the quarry. Then one of the three disengaged himself from his comrades inch by inch till he was some yards ahead, and was rapidly overhauling Dudley. The man carried a revolver in one hand, and instead of a whip used his cruel spurs continuously. Dudley glanced round at him, gave an exclamation, and then slipped his hand into the pocket carried on the hip of his riding leggings. For this was not an Indian. The man was dressed as a gaucho, and it wanted only a second glance at that evil face, at those deep-set and scowling eyes, to tell him that it was Giono, the man who had warned him to beware, and who had left the rancho breathing vengeance against the two white men who resided there.
"He is better mounted than I am, and there is bound to be a fight," thought Dudley as the minutes flew by and Giono gained rapidly upon him, leaving his two comrades some yards in rear. "I had better keep a careful watch on his revolver, and if he lifts it I will fire."
They were close to the edge of the rancho now, and half a mile ahead the rails of the corral could be seen. But though our hero strained his eyes in that direction there was not a single horseman. Nothing but the corral broke the flat expanse of waving pampas. He was alone, and must look to himself for safety.
Crack! As he stared ahead there came the sharp report of a pistol, and on glancing behind he saw a wreath of smoke blowing away from the muzzle of Giono's revolver.
"Missed," thought Dudley, with no little satisfaction. "The range is too long as yet, and even if he hits me the bullet will do no great harm. But he is pulling up fast. I wonder whether, if I hit him, the others will give up the chase?"
Crack! Once again the report came to his ear, and instinctively he crouched lower as a bullet hissed over his head. He was within range then, and must act if he was to escape at all. Keeping low on the back of his horse, with his weight thrown as much forward as possible, he glanced round again, his head twisted to the right. Giono was standing in his stirrups, his eye blazing with wrath, and fierce determination written on every line of his ugly face. He lifted the weapon again, took very careful aim, and was on the point of pressing the trigger when Dudley gripped the butt of his revolver and sent a bullet flying behind. And here again his happy knack of shooting, the quick eye and ready hand which he possessed, stood him in good stead. Giono gave a shout, clapped the hand which held the reins to his chest, and instantly crumpled up on the bow of his saddle. He swayed from side to side, and made frantic efforts to cling to his seat. His spurs almost met beneath his horse's belly, while the rowels dug into the poor beast, making it gallop even harder. Then this powerful gaucho, hardened to exposure and fatigue, recovered his strength and threw off the sudden weakness caused by his wound. There was a thin streak of blood at the corner of his mouth as he sat up with a jerk, and the scowl on his face had increased in intensity. Without lifting his weapon he pointed the muzzle at the lad in front of him and pulled the trigger.
Dudley learned some ten minutes later what happened after that momentous shot, for within two seconds he was unconscious. The bullet had missed him entirely, but flying low had passed between the heels of his horse, and had struck behind the knee of one of the fore legs, bringing the gallant beast toppling on to its head.
"When the señor is ready it will be as well to move on," he suddenly heard a voice say. "The señor is better. He has fallen heavily, and the ground was hard. Pepito, bring your water sack, and we will sprinkle his face and so refresh him."
The words sounded as if they had been spoken yards and yards away. They came to Dudley's ears in a strangely blurred fashion, failing to rouse him, and leaving him to puzzle over their meaning.
"The ground was hard, and he had fallen heavily. Who had fallen heavily?" he wondered. "They are joking. Perhaps they want to disturb me. But I won't move. I'm very comfortable, thank you!"
He mumbled the last words in a low voice, and in tones which showed that he was feeling irritable. In fact, his mind was more or less of a blank. He had no idea who was speaking, and he cared less. He felt drowsy, and objected to being disturbed.
"Bueno, Pepito! The water comes in handy, and our young master will thank us for it. Lift his head so. Now I will dash some of the contents of this sack in his face."
On the pampas it was the custom to carry water in a canvas bag, just as it is in Egypt, and in Africa, and in many another country. Pepito, a young gaucho who had been sent for his store, stood by grinning with anxiety, for he had taken a fancy to this young English fellow, while Pietro knelt and lifted Dudley's head. Then the tall gaucho with the melancholy air deliberately dashed some of the water in the face of the half-unconscious youth.
"Here, I say!" gasped Dudley, frantically struggling to sit up, and opening his eyes wide. "Look here! No more of that! If you try the game again I'll——"
He stopped short, his mouth wide open, and his eyes fixed on Pietro's honest face. Up to that very instant his wits had been sadly wandering, and he had imagined himself at school again. This was, so he thought, a game being played at his expense, and——
"Why, it's Pietro, and that's Pepito! What are you grinning for?"
The young gaucho turned his head away in confusion, while Pietro lifted his patient higher.
"Yes, we are here, señor," he said. "Is the señor right in his mind now? Is his head sore? For the fall was a heavy one, and, as I said, the ground is hard."
"Was his head sore?" Dudley sat up suddenly and gazed about him in bewilderment, for he had still no recollection of what had happened a few minutes before. He ran his hands over his head, and then turned to speak again to Pepito, only to feel acute pain in his neck, and give a sudden cry.
"That is queer. My neck feels as if it had been almost broken, or as if some fellow had collared me and given it a firm and friendly screw. Hallo!"
This time his eyes fell on something which could not but remind him of his exciting chase, for a dozen yards away his own horse stood shaking after its frantic exertions, and blowing harder than Dudley had ever seen one blow before. The gallant beast was white with foam, and its flanks moved in and out spasmodically. Its head hung low, and generally its appearance was one of absolute exhaustion.
"He helped to save the señor's life," said Pietro. "He galloped well. But the señor was wise to shake off the saddle. Had he not done so this Giono would have certainly overhauled him earlier, and then——"
"And then? Yes?" asked Dudley.
"The señor would not be here. The señor would be dead. As it is, Giono is dead. He has a dozen bullets in him in addition to the one which you sent. Come, the señor is better."
Dudley was. In a flash he remembered his flight and all that had happened up to the report which had come from Giono's revolver. After that all was a blank.
"Tell me what happened," he asked, struggling to his feet and standing there with Pietro and another gaucho supporting him. "No, leave me alone please, for I can stand. I am just a little giddy, that's all, and, phew! my neck!"
"It is a wonder it was not broken, señor," came the answer. "You shot out from the back of your horse and flew some yards before you landed. I made sure that you were killed, for you fell on your head and rolled over. Another man's neck would have been broken."
"Then I am saved for some other fate," laughed Dudley, beginning to feel better. "Many thanks, my friends, for helping me, and for the water. Now, what happened exactly?"
He beckoned to Pepito, took a deep draught from the sack, and then turned to Pietro again.
"Giono made a better shot the last time he ever pulled trigger than he would have done had he dared to fire at the flying pith ball of the bolas, señor. You had hit him hard in the chest, and he was bleeding. But, as I said, he had luck. His ball hit your beast behind the knee, and brought him down like a stone, just as you or I would fall if someone struck us in a similar position. You fell, as I have described, and in a moment Giono was pulling up beside you, while his two comrades were galloping to join him. They were a fine mark, and we dropped them at our first volley."
"You dropped them? How?"
Dudley was amazed, for he had seen none of his friends.
"We might have remained on our horses, señor. But then we knew that you could reach the rancho before the enemy, and even if you could not we could hardly help you, for you were within a mile before our lookout gave the alarm. There is a small hollow on our left, and there we placed our horses on their sides, and lay in wait for the Indians, guessing that you would pass near at hand. It was as well for the señor that we were there, for Giono would have committed murder."
"Then I have to thank you for a good deal more than the water," said Dudley gratefully. "I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. But were you not saying something about moving?"
"Bueno, señor! These demons are collecting away yonder, and our men say that there are three or four hundred. It would be as well to retire on the house shortly, for all are mounted, and could easily surround us. When the señor is himself again we will ride on."
"I am ready now," came the answer. "First tell me how many gauchos there are here."
"Forty, señor, and men have ridden off to tell the others to retire on the house."
"One moment, Pietro! They have orders to go, and I see them mounting; they have not left yet."
It was the tall gaucho who interposed, and at once Dudley took advantage of his information.
"Send them here immediately," he commanded, and in a voice which the gauchos were fully accustomed to, for quite unconsciously this young Englishman had acquired an air of authority since Mr. Blunt had given him the management. "Now, I want to ask a question. What becomes of our master's cattle if we retire?"
"They remain," came the unhesitating answer. "The Indians will probably attack us to-morrow, and if they are unsuccessful they will drive the cattle away. We shall call the gauchos from other ranches and shall follow, and no doubt we shall manage to capture many of the stolen beasts. There is never much fighting, señor, for the Indians move quickly, and give up all the cattle that lag. Our attention is thus engaged more with the beasts than with the enemy."
"While in any case our master is a heavy loser."
"That is so, señor," admitted Pietro ruefully; "but who can help it?"
"We can," came the prompt answer. "We can try to, at any rate. More than that, I fancy we might even read these fellows a lesson which will last them for many a year to come. Send those messengers to me."
Pietro and his comrades stared at Dudley as if they could not believe their ears. They had spent their lives on the pampas, and now and again it had happened that they or friends of theirs had been surrounded by the Indians, who were always hostile to the gauchos. Then they had had to fight, and the gauchos had plenty of pluck and determination, and knew how to make the most of a desperate situation. But their experience had also taught them that the Indians always raided in large numbers, which it would be foolish to oppose. These raids were very often, and in fact in nearly every case, sudden and unexpected, and retaliation was never very possible. Sometimes they had managed to round up some of the Indians as they drove the rancho cattle away, and then there had been slaughter. But as a general rule gauchos were pounced upon and killed barbarously, while those who escaped hung on the tail of the retreating Indians and did their best to recover some of the cattle, which were always the object of these raids. It was therefore somewhat startling to hear such a proposition.
"As the señor cares to order," said Pietro readily. "But how? We are willing to fight if he will show us how."
"Then listen to this. The beasts are six miles from this, at least they were early this morning when I rode out."
"They are there now, señor. The gauchos surround them."
"Then we will retire at once till we are well beyond the herd. There are three thousand of them, and the Indians will hardly dare to drive more. We will gallop away now, and by the time we reach our comrades it will be dusk."
"That is true, señor," came the cautious admission. "It will be dusk, but not so dark that the Indians cannot follow and surround the cattle. Three thousand is as many as they dare attempt to drive."
"Then tell me this, Pietro. Will they return towards their own country to-night, supposing they do not attack the house?"
"Surely not, señor. It would be madness to attempt to control so many beasts in the darkness, they would stampede. They will camp for the night, and I myself believe that, now that Giono is killed, they will not attempt an attack on the farm. They will surround the cattle, just as we do, and those who are not on guard will build a fire, kill a beast, and gorge themselves with the meat. I know them well; they are gluttons to a man."
"Then they will play into our hands. Listen to this. Send a messenger to each of our herds, and give them orders to call away all the gauchos who can be spared. They are to meet us five miles beyond the place for which we are now about to make. They are to ride silently, and are not to smoke or to attract the attention of the Indians. You follow me? Then let us ride."
The buzzing noise in his head was forgotten. He no longer felt the crick in his neck which had troubled him so much a few minutes before. He was all keenness to be moving, to perfect his scheme, and to do something to save his employer. For Dudley had often considered these Indian raids, and time and again had asked why it was that resistance was not better organized, and why the gauchos and their leaders did not combine rapidly, having some prearranged signal, and fall upon the enemy before they had retired too far. That was the only time when a blow could be struck, for to follow the Indians into their own country was out of the question, unless a large force were taken, and then there would be the added difficulties of transport of ammunition and food, besides the chance of failing to find water, always a danger in this pampas country, where streams were not abundant. Here was an opportunity to strike a blow, for, thanks to the late arrival of the Indians, it was already getting dusk, and would be dark before they could reach the nearest herd of cattle.
"You are sure that they will bivouac when they come up with the beasts?" he asked anxiously.
"I am certain, señor. Indians do not love moving about at night in any case, and it is more than likely that they have ridden far to-day. Their raids are usually successful because they arrive when least expected. They ride fast from their own country in the hope of falling upon the settlements before news of their coming can be sent. If they meet a stray gaucho they ride him down and shoot him lest he should carry the alarm. That is why the señor was chased, and why Giono was so intent on killing him. Their beasts have had a big day's work, and they will rest them as soon as possible, knowing that they have a bigger day before them on the morrow."
"Then we will mount and ride," said Dudley. "Pietro, take command of twenty of the gauchos, and stay here till the main body of the enemy appear, then retire before they can come within range. Let them think that you are terrified, and when once you get going, gallop back beyond the herd as fast as you can. By then it will be dark."
"Surely it will, señor; the sun is sinking fast, and twilight is never long with us. We wait, and retire when the time comes. We shall find you and our comrades beyond?"
"We shall be six miles or rather less on the far side of the herd. Be careful, and good luck to you and your friends."
There was a calm businesslike air about the young gringo which impressed the gauchos, the air of modest self-assurance which had impressed them when this lad had joined them for the first time and had won his match against Giono. Already they had become accustomed to receiving orders from him, and, more than that, he had always been so tactful in giving them, was so friendly with them one and all, and so ready to accept advice from these honest and experienced men of the pampas, that there was not one who did not swear by him.
"He is a youth, it is true, comrades," Pietro had said on one occasion when the new manager was under discussion, "he was a gringo only a little while ago, but, I ask, is there here a man who could draw on him and hope to be alive within a minute?"
"There is not one," came the emphatic answer from a comrade. "And yet, I declare that that is wrong after all; for our young master, it is true, would have his muzzle at our heads before we could wink, but would not fire. He knows that we like him."
There was a chorus of assent, and then and there all declared that the arrangement made by Mr. Blunt was excellent, and met with their approval. They thought a lot of the new manager. He was not conceited, not full of foolish airs and graces, and by no means soft. He didn't know everything, and was not ashamed to acknowledge his inexperience. But when it came to giving orders, he was the one, and already they understood that he would have no unnecessary interference. Mr. Blunt was away just at this time, and so it was natural that they should turn to Dudley.
Pietro selected his men at once, and each one stood beside his horse, his gun over his shoulder, while the gaucho told them in his own tongue and in the plainest language what was expected of them.
"This is not to be the usual raid, comrades," he said. "The Indians are not to have it all their own way as formerly, for our young master will attack them. We are to wait here till they come up in force, and then we are to retire in haste as if we feared them. Not a shot is to be fired. Watch me, and when I shout, turn your horses and gallop back past the herd. It will be getting dark by then, and as soon as we are out of sight we will draw in together and trot on to the meeting place."
It was pretty to watch the way in which this party of gauchos swung themselves into their native saddles. Pietro gave the word, and in less than half a minute the men were in their seats, their toes home in the stirrups, and their weapons in their hands. And there they sat like statues, the fringes of their leggings blowing out on either side, their broad-brimmed hats pulled down well, so that they should not lose them, and a general air of expectancy on every face. For this was so different from their action on former occasions. No man likes to be hounded off his own land, and see the possessions of which he has had charge filched from beneath his very nose. Such a course of conduct is demoralizing. The thought that they were to make a struggle, not for their own lives so much as for their master's property, heartened these fine gauchos, and they cast many an admiring glance at their young commander. Dudley limped across the grass, for he was stiff and sore after such a tumble, and clambered into the saddle. He was to ride a spare horse, while his own fine beast was led, for it was still too exhausted for active work, and could hardly have supported a man's weight. Then he waved his arm, and at the signal the remainder of the gauchos fell in beside him and walked their horses back towards the spot where the herd was being guarded. Four miles beyond, a dozen galloping figures were seen dimly in the distance, and a little later these gauchos, besides some five or six more, had joined their force, increasing its numbers till they were quite respectable.
"There is firing behind, señor," said Pepito, suddenly, for he was riding beside Dudley. "Listen again! There and there! The Indians are within range, perhaps, or they are driving our friends before them. It is too dark to see far. If it were early morning we could detect their figures."
Dudley reined in his horse and sat upright, listening.
"We will halt here for a while in case they are in difficulties," said he promptly; "then we can all ride on together."
A quarter of an hour passed before a group of horsemen was seen approaching through the dusk. It was Pietro and his party, and there was a broad grin of satisfaction on every face. The two parties fell in together and trotted on over the swelling pampas till they had passed the herd for which the Indians were making and had gone four miles beyond.
"We had fun, señor," said Pietro, as he wiped the perspiration from his face with his horny fingers and lifted his hat to cool his head. "They came towards us in one big mass, with a few scouts out on their flanks. There were between three and four hundred, perhaps, and by the manner in which they rode it was clear that they imagined that there was nothing to fear. They sent a hundred towards us, and long before these men were in range they began to fire their weapons. We waited till the bullets dropped pretty close, and then we bolted as if we were scared for our lives. Is that as the señor wished?"
"You have done splendidly, Pietro, and must have increased their assurance. They will perhaps be less careful to-night."
"They will set a good watch on the cattle, of that the señor may be sure," was Pietro's answer; "but the main body will camp, and do as I said before. Meat is not too plentiful with these savages, and when they are encamped so close to a herd which belongs to someone else, and when a dozen more or less of the beasts make no difference, they will slaughter enough to satisfy the hunger of a thousand men and will gorge themselves. They do not fear attack. Why should they, when there are such numbers of them?"
"That is just the little point which is going to help us, Pietro," smiled Dudley. "It is the general who despises his adversaries and who fails to set a careful watch who is caught napping on occasion. It happens that a spiritless enemy take a sudden and unaccountable change. Something gives them pluck, though that is never wanting with the gauchos, or someone suggests another course of action which seems worth trying; then your careless and cocksure general has a fall—he and his men get a hiding."
Pietro laughed heartily, and a number of the men near at hand joined in. For all could understand English, and speak a little, while Pietro, Pepito, and a few others could converse fluently. They gathered the meaning of their young leader instantly, and liked the plain way in which he put this last matter.
"The señor is right, as he has been before," laughed Pietro. "If he had not been here we should have had no warning, some of our number would have been killed, and then we should have galloped for the house, leaving the cattle to themselves. Now we see that there is another course. The señor can rely on us, for we would do much to break up these enemies, and check them thoroughly. Does the señor know what happens should a gaucho be captured?"
"Something unpleasant, I imagine," smiled Dudley.
"I will not say. But it is bad. They are brutes, and treat prisoners with frightful cruelty. But we are four miles from the herd. What shall we do next?"
"Eat and smoke, if you can get into some little hollow," was the prompt answer. "When are these fellows asleep?"
"By midnight they will be gorged and drowsy. By two in the morning they will be almost helpless. Their sense of hearing will be dulled, and for the most part they will be fast asleep."
"And the dawn breaks at about four-thirty. Good!" exclaimed Dudley. "Well, what about the meal?"
"The señor thinks of the comfort of his men always. There is a dip in the pampas beyond the next rise; there we can light fires and eat and rest."
The wide sweeping pampas ran on in a long succession of rolls, which were hardly distinguishable to those riding over them. But they were there for all that, and often enough a party of horsemen situated in one depression would be out of sight of a second in a depression running parallel. Dudley and his men took advantage of this fact, and very soon had hobbled their horses, had slipped the bits behind the chins, so that the animals might graze, and had gathered bundles of thistles. These were set fire to beneath an awning of blankets, for otherwise the glare might have been seen in the sky. Cuts of juicy meat were skewered on sticks or on ramrods, and very soon there was a fizzle about the flames, and an odor which made a hungry man sniff and grow fidgety. Pipes were taken from saddle bags, filled with rank weed which would try the stomach even of an army recruit, and carefully lit at the embers.
It was a peaceful and very contented body of men who sat about that shrouded fire and discussed their evening meal, a party of good fellows who were strangely elated, and who cast glances of the utmost confidence at their white leader. The hours flew by, and as midnight came, many of the gauchos had already fallen asleep.
"We will let them rest till all is ready," said Dudley in a whisper. "Now, Pietro, I am going over there to the cattle to see what the Indians are doing. If things are fairly quiet we will make a movement. Send Pepito with me, and bring along the main party in half an hour's time, taking care to halt them a good mile from the enemy."
The gaucho's mouth opened wide with astonishment. He stared at the set face before him, half-lit by the flare from the fire, and then altered his mind. He was about to argue, to remonstrate, and as quickly decided that words were not wanted.
"The señor is pleased to order," he said. "We shall obey. In an hour from now we shall be a mile from the enemy."
"Good. Then I shall meet you there and give further instructions. Recollect, silence must be kept. No pipes are to be smoked, and, above all, men must be careful of their weapons. Good-by!"
Pepito was beside them now, and at a word from Dudley he strode by his side out of the camp and away in the direction of the Indians.