Part 20 (1/2)

”Then, Major, perhaps you will allow Mr Clayley to make trial of him,”

I suggested. ”He is light weight. I a.s.sure you that, without the a.s.sistance of these Mexicans, we shall not be able to catch a single mule.”

The major, seeing that all eyes were fixed upon him, suddenly straightened himself up in his stirrups, and, swelling with courage and importance, declared, ”If that was the case, he would go himself.”

Then, calling upon ”Doc” to follow him, he struck the spurs into Hercules, and rode forward at a gallop.

It proved that this was just the very course to start the vaqueros, as the major had inspired them with more terror than all the rest of our party. They showed evident symptoms of taking to their heels, and I shouted to them at the top of my voice:

”_Alto! somos amigos_!” (Halt! we are friends).

The words were scarcely out of my mouth when the Mexicans drove the rowels into their mustangs, and galloped off as if for their lives in the direction of the corral.

The major followed at a slas.h.i.+ng pace, Doc bringing up the rear; while the basket which the latter carried over his arm began to eject its contents, scattering the commissariat of the major over the prairie.

Fortunately, the hospitality of Don Cosme had already provided a subst.i.tute for this loss.

After a run of about half a mile Hercules began to gain rapidly upon the mustangs, whereas Doc was losing distance in an inverse ratio. The Mexicans had got within a couple of hundred yards of the rancho, the major not over a hundred in their rear, when I observed the latter suddenly pull up, and, jerking the long body of Hercules round, commence riding briskly back, all the while looking over his shoulder towards the in closure.

The vaqueros did not halt at the corral, as we expected, but kept across the prairie, and disappeared among the trees on the opposite side.

”What the deuce has got into Blossom?” inquired Clayley; ”he was clearly gaining upon them. The old bloat must have burst a blood-vessel.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

A BRUSH WITH THE GUERILLEROS.

”Why, what was the matter, Major?” inquired I, as the major rode up blowing like a porpoise.

”Matter!” replied he, with one of his direst imprecations; ”matter, indeed! You wouldn't have me ride plump into their works, would you?”

”Works!” echoed I, in some surprise; ”what do you mean by that, Major?”

”I mean works--that's all. There's a stockade ten feet high, as full as it can stick of them.”

”Full of what?”

”Full of the enemy--full of rancheros. I saw their ugly copper faces--a dozen of them at least--looking at me over the pickets; and, sure as heaven, if I had gone ten paces farther they would have riddled me like a target.”

”But, Major, they were only peaceable rancheros--cow-herds--nothing more.”

”Cow-herds! I tell you, Captain, that those two that galloped off had a sword apiece strapped to their saddles. I saw them when I got near: they were decoys to bring us up to that stockade--I'll bet my life upon it!”

”Well, Major,” rejoined I, ”they're far enough from the stockade now; and the best we can do in their absence will be to examine it, and see what chances it may offer to corral these mules, for, unless they can be driven into it, we shall have to return to camp empty-handed.”

Saying this, I moved forward with the men, the major keeping in the rear.

We soon reached the formidable stockade, which proved to be nothing more than a regular corral, such as are found on the great _haciendas de ganados_ (cattle farms) of Spanish America. In one corner was a house, constructed of upright poles, with a thatch of palm-leaves. This contained the lazos, _alparejas_, saddles, etcetera, of the vaqueros; and in the door of this house stood a decrepit old zambo, the only human thing about the place. The zambo's woolly head over the pickets had reflected itself a dozen times on the major's terrified imagination.

After examining the corral, I found it excellent for our purpose, provided we could only succeed in driving the mules _into_ it; and, throwing open the bars, we proceeded to make the attempt. The mules were browsing quietly at the distance of a quarter of a mile from the corral.

Marching past the drove, I deployed the company in the form of a semicircle, forming a complete cordon round the animals; then, closing in upon them slowly, the soldiers commenced driving them towards the pen.