Part 47 (1/2)
At first seeing me she had started back. There was no time to be lost.
My comrades were already chafing at my delay; and, joining them, we crept through the magueys, parting the broad, stiff leaves with our fingers. We were soon upon the edge of the chaparral wood.
I looked back towards the window. The woman stood holding the lamp, and its light was full upon her face. She had read the scrawl, and was gazing out with an expression I shall never forget. Another bound, and we were ”in the woods.”
CHAPTER FORTY ONE.
THE PURSUIT.
For a time there was a strange irresolution in my flight. The idea of leaving Guadalupe in such company--that after all they might be prisoners, or, even if not, the thought that they were in the power of Dubrosc to any extent--was enough to render me wretched and irresolute.
But what could we do--five men, almost unarmed?
”It would be madness to remain--madness and death. The woman--she possesses some mysterious power over this brute, her paramour: she will guard them.”
This thought decided me, and I yielded myself freely to flight. We had but little fear of being caught again. We had too much confidence, particularly Lincoln and myself, in our forest-craft. Raoul knew all the country, the thickets and the pa.s.ses. We stopped a moment to deliberate on the track we should take. A bugle rang out behind us, and the next instant the report of a cannon thundered in a thousand echoes along the glen.
”It is from the hacienda,” said Raoul; ”they have missed us already.”
”Is that a `sign', Rowl,” asked Lincoln.
”It is,” replied the other; ”it's to warn their scouts. They're all over these hills. We must look sharp.”
”I don't like this hyur timber; it's too scant. Cudn't yer put us in the crik bottom, Rowl?”
”There's a heavy chaparral,” said the Frenchman, musing; ”it's ten miles off. If we could reach that we're safe--a wolf can hardly crawl through it. We must make it before day.”
”Lead on, then, Rowl!”
We stole along with cautious steps. The rustling of a leaf or the cracking of a dead stick might betray us; for we could hear signals upon all sides, and our pursuers pa.s.sing us in small parties, within earshot.
We bore to the right, in order to reach the creek bottom of which Lincoln had spoken. We soon came into this, and followed the stream down, but not on the bank. Lincoln would not hear of our taking the bank path, arguing that our pursuers would be ”sartin ter foller the cl'ar trail.”
The hunter was right, for shortly after a party came down the stream.
We could hear the clinking of their accoutrements, and even the conversation of some of the men, as follows:
”But, in the first place, how did they get loose within? and who cut the wall from the outside, unless someone helped them? _Carajo_! it's not possible.”
”That's true, Jose,” said another voice. ”Someone must, and I believe it was that giant that got away from us at the rancho. The shot that killed the snake came from the chaparral, and yet we searched and found n.o.body. Mark my words, it was he; and I believe he has hung upon our track all the way.”
”_Vaya_!” exclaimed another; ”I shouldn't much like to be under the range of his rifle; they say he can kill a mile off, and hit wherever he pleases. He shot the snake right through the eyes.”
”By the Virgin!” said one of the guerilleros, laughing, ”he must have been a snake of good taste, to be caught toying around that dainty daughter of the old Spaniard! It reminds me of what the Book tells about Mother Eve and the old serpent. Now, if the Yankee's bullet--.”
We could hear no more, as the voices died away in the distance and under the sound of the water.
”Ay,” muttered Lincoln, finis.h.i.+ng the sentence; ”if the Yankee's bullet hadn't been needed for the varmint, some o' yer wudn't a' been waggin'
yer clappers as ye air.”
”It _was_ you, then?” I asked, turning to the hunter.