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- Author: Mayne Reid
Book online «The Rifle Rangers by Mayne Reid (best free e book reader txt) 📖». Author Mayne Reid
“What is it, Captain?” inquired he.
“Do you know if the prairie wolf is found here?”
“I do not know if it be the true prairie wolf, Captain. There is one something like the coyote.”
I returned to the aperture and listened.
“Again the howl of the prairie wolf—the bark! By heavens! it is Lincoln!”
Now it ceased for several minutes, and then came again, but from another direction.
“What is to be done? if I answer him, it will alarm the sentry. I will wait until he comes closer to the wall.”
I could tell that he was creeping nearer and nearer.
Finding he had not been answered, the howling ceased. I stood listening eagerly to every sound from without. My comrades, who had now become apprised of Lincoln’s proximity, had risen to their feet and were leaning against the walls.
We were about half an hour in this situation, without exchanging a word, when a light tap was heard from without, and a soft voice whispered:
“Hola, Capitan!”
I placed my ear to the aperture. The whisper was repeated. It was not Lincoln—that was clear.
It must be Narcisso.
“Quien?” I asked.
“Yo, Capitan.”
I recognised the voice that had addressed me in the morning.
It is Narcisso.
“Can you place your hands in the aperture?” said he.
“No; they are tied behind my back.”
“Can you bring them opposite, then?”
“No; I am standing on my toes, and my wrists are still far below the sill.”
“Are your comrades all similarly bound?”
“All.”
“Let one get on each side of you, and raise you up on their shoulders.”
Wondering at the astuteness of the young Spaniard, I ordered Chane and Raoul to lift me as he directed.
When my wrists came opposite the window I cautioned them to hold on. Presently a soft hand touched mine, passing all over them. Then I felt the blade of a knife pressed against the thong, and in an instant it leaped from my wrists. I ordered the men to set me down, and I listened as before.
“Here is the knife. You can release your own ankles and those of your comrades. This paper will direct you further. You will find the lamp inside.”
A knife, with a folded and strangely shining note, was passed through by the speaker.
“And now, Capitan—one favour,” continued the voice, in a trembling tone.
“Ask it! ask it!”
“I would kiss your hand before we part.”
“Dear, noble boy!” cried I, thrusting my hand into the aperture.
“Boy! ah, true—you think me a boy. I am no boy, Capitan, but a woman—one who loves you with all her blighted, broken heart!”
“Oh, heavens! It is, then—dearest Guadalupe!”
“Ha! I thought as much. Now I will not. But no; what good would it be to me? No—no—no! I shall keep my word.”
This appeared to be uttered in soliloquy, and the tumult of my thoughts prevented me from noticing the strangeness of these expressions. I thought of them afterwards.
“Your hand! your hand!” I ejaculated.
“You would kiss my hand? Do so!” The little hand was thrust through, and I could see it in the dim light, flashing with brilliants. I caught it in mine, covering it with kisses. It seemed to yield to the fervid pressure of my lips.
“Oh!” I exclaimed, in the transport of my feelings, “let us not part; let us fly together! I was wronging you, loveliest, dearest Guadalupe—!”
A slight exclamation, as if from some painful emotion, and the hand was plucked away, leaving one of the diamonds in my fingers. The next moment the voice whispered, with a strange sadness of tone, as I thought:
“Adieu, Capitan! adieu! In this world of life we never know who best loves us!”
I was puzzled, bewildered. I called out, but there was no answer. I listened until the patience of my comrades was well-nigh exhausted, but still there was no voice from without; and with a strange feeling of uneasiness and wonderment I commenced cutting the thongs from my ankles.
Having set Raoul at liberty, I handed him the knife, and proceeded to open the note. Inside I found a cocuyo; and, using it as I had been already instructed, I read:
“The walls are adobe. You have a knife. The side with the loop-hole fronts outward. There is a field of magueys, and beyond this you will find the forest. You may then trust to yourselves. I can help you no farther. Carissimo caballero, adios!”
I had no time to reflect upon the peculiarities of the note, though the boldness of the style struck me as corresponding with the other. I flung down the firefly, crushing the paper into my bosom; and, seizing the knife, was about to attack the adobe wall, when voices reached me from without. I sprang forward, and placed my ear to listen. It was an altercation—a woman—a man! “By heaven! it is Lincoln’s voice!”
“Yer cussed whelp! ye’d see the cap’n hung, would yer?—a man that’s good vally for the full of a pararer of green-gutted greasers; but I ain’t a-gwine to let you look at his hangin’. If yer don’t show me which of these hyur pigeon-holes is his’n, an’ help me to get him outer it, I’ll skin yer like a mink!”
“I tell you, Mister Lincoln,” replied a voice which I recognised as the one whose owner had just left me, “I have this minute given the captain the means of escape, through that loophole.”
“Whar!”
“This one,” answered the female voice.
“Wal, that’s easy to circumstantiate. Kum along hyur! I ain’t a-gwine to let yer go till it’s all fixed. De ye hear?”
I heard the heavy foot of the hunter as he approached, and presently his voice calling through the loophole in a guarded whisper:
“Cap’n!”
“Hush, Bob! it’s all right,” I replied, speaking in a low tone, for the sentries were moving suspiciously around the door.
“Good!” ejaculated he. “Yer kin go now,” he added to the other, whose attention I endeavoured to attract, but dared not call to loud enough, lest the guards should hear me. “Dash my buttons! I don’t want yer to go—yer a good ’un arter all. Why can’t yer kum along? The cap’n ’ll make it all straight agin about the desartion.”
“Mr Lincoln, I cannot go with you. Please suffer me to depart!”
“Wal! yer own likes! but if I can do yer a good turn, you can depend on Bob Linkin—mind that.”
“Thank you! thank you!”
And before I could interfere to prevent it, she was gone. I could hear the voice, sad and sweet in the distance, calling back, “Adios!”
I had no time for reflection, else the mystery that surrounded me would have occupied my thoughts for hours. It was time to act. Again I heard Lincoln’s voice at the loophole.
“What is it?” I inquired.
“How are yer ter get out, Cap’n?”
“We are cutting a hole through the wall.”
“If yer can give me the spot, I’ll meet yer half-ways.”
I measured the distance from the loophole, and handed the string to Lincoln. We heard no more from the hunter until the moonlight glanced through the wall upon the blade of his knife. Then he uttered a short ejaculation, such as may be heard from the “mountain men” at peculiar crises; and after that we could hear him exclaiming:
“Look out, Rowl! Hang it, man! ye’re a-cuttin’ my claws!”
In a few minutes the hole was large enough to pass our bodies; and one by one we crawled out, and were once more at liberty.
There was a deep ditch under the wall, filled with cactus-plants and dry grass. We lay in the bottom of this for some minutes, panting with fatigue. Our limbs were stiff and swollen, and we could hardly stand upright. A little delay then was necessary, to bring back the blood and determine our future course.
“We had best ter keep the gully,” whispered Lincoln. “I kum across the fields myself, but that ’ar kiver’s thin, and they may sight us.”
“The best route is the ditch,” assented Raoul: “there are some windows, but they are high, and we can crawl under them.”
“Forward, then!” I whispered to Raoul.
We crept down the ditch on all-fours, passing several windows that were dark and shut. We reached one, the last in the row, where the light streamed through. Notwithstanding our perilous situation, I resolved to look in. There was an impulse upon me which I could not resist. I was yearning for some clue to the mystery that hung around me.
The window was high up, but it was grated with heavy bars; and, grasping two of these, I swung myself to its level. Meanwhile my comrades had crept into the magueys to wait for me.
I raised my head cautiously and looked in. It was a room somewhat elegantly furnished, but my eye did not dwell long on that. A man sitting by the table engrossed my attention. This man was Dubrosc. The light was full upon his face, and I gazed upon its hated lines until I felt my frame trembling with passion.
I can give no idea of the hate this man had inspired me with. Had I possessed firearms, I could not have restrained myself from shooting him; and but for the iron grating, I should have sprung through the sash and grappled him with my hands. I have thought since that some providence held me back from making a demonstration that would have baffled our escape. I am sure at that moment I possessed no restraint within myself.
As I gazed at Dubrosc, the door of the apartment opened, and a young man entered. He was strangely attired, in a costume half-military, half-ranchero. There was a fineness, a silky richness, about the dress and manner of this youth that struck me. His features were dark and beautiful.
He advanced and sat down by the table, placing his hand upon it. Several rings sparkled upon his fingers. I observed that he was pale, and that his hand trembled.
After looking at him for a moment, I began to fancy I had seen the features before. It was not Narcisso; him I should have known; and yet there was a resemblance. Yes—he even resembled her! I started as this thought crossed me. I strained my eyes; the resemblance grew stronger.
Oh, Heaven! could it be?—dressed thus? No, no! those eyes—ha! I remember! The boy at the rendezvous—on board the transport—the island—the picture! It is she—the cousin—MarĂa de Merced!
These recollections came with the suddenness of a single thought, and passed as quickly. Later memories crowded upon me. The adventure of the morning—the strange words uttered at the window of my prison—the small hand! This, then, was the author of our deliverance.
A hundred mysteries were explained in a single moment. The unexpected elucidation came like a shock—like a sudden light. I staggered back, giving way to new and singular emotions.
“Guadalupe knows nothing of my presence, then. She is innocent.”
This thought alone restored me to happiness. A thousand others rushed through my brain in quick succession—some pleasant, others painful.
There was an altercation of voices over my head. I caught the iron rods, and, resting my toes upon a high bank, swung my body up, and again looked into the room. Dubrosc was now angrily pacing over the floor.
“Bah!” he ejaculated, with a look of cold brutality; “you think to make me jealous, I believe. That isn’t possible. I was never so, and you can’t do it. I know you love the cursed Yankee. I watched you in the ship—on the island, too. You had better keep him company where he is going. Ha, ha! Jealous, indeed! Your pretty cousins have grown up since I saw them last.”
The insinuation sent the blood in a hot stream through my veins.
It appeared to have a similar effect upon the woman; for, starting from her seat, she looked towards Dubrosc, her eyes flashing like globes of fire.
“Yes!” she exclaimed; “and if you dare whisper your polluting thoughts to either of them, lawless as is this land, you know that I still possess the power to punish you. You are villain enough, Heaven knows, for anything; but they shall not fall: one victim is enough—and such a one!”
“Victim, indeed!”
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