The Tiger Hunter

Chapter Forty.
Fatal Misunderstandings

The death of this first victim, offered to the manes of his murdered father, had to some extent the effect of appeasing the vengeful passion of Don Rafael. At all events his spirit became calmer; and other sentiments long slumbering at the bottom of his heart began to usurp their sway. He perceived the necessity of justifying his conduct – which he knew must appear inexplicable – to the inhabitants of the hacienda Las Palmas. Had he done so at that moment all would have been well; but unfortunately a certain spirit of pride interfered to hinder him. A son who had punished the murderer of his father, ought he to excuse himself for what he felt to be a holy duty? Moreover, could he expect pardon for becoming the enemy of a cause he could no longer call his own?

This haughty silence on the part of Don Rafael could not do otherwise than complete the ruin of his hopes, and render still more impassable the gulf that had been so suddenly and unexpectedly opened up between his love and his duty.

The news of Valdez’ death – brought to the hacienda of Las Palmas by a passing messenger – together with the tenour of the inscription that revealed the author of it, had fallen like a bomb-shell into the family circle of Don Mariano de Silva. Unfortunately the same messenger had failed to report the assassination of Don Luis Tres-Villas – for the simple reason that he had not heard of it. His hosts, therefore, remained ignorant of the cause of this terrible reprisal.

From that moment, therefore, the family of Las Palmas could not do otherwise than regard the dragoon captain as a traitor, who, under the pretence of the purest patriotism, had concealed the most ardent sympathies for the oppressors of his country. Nevertheless the love of Gertrudis essayed that justification, which the pride of Don Rafael had restrained him from making.

“O my father!” exclaimed she, overwhelmed with grief, “do not judge him too hastily. It is impossible he can be a traitor to his country’s cause. One day – I am sure of it – one day, he will send a message to explain what has occurred.”

“And when he does explain,” responded Don Mariano, with bitterness, “will he be less a traitor to his country? No – we need not hope. He will not even attempt to justify his unworthy conduct.”

In fine, the message came not; and Gertrudis was compelled to devour her grief in silence.

Nevertheless the audacious defiance to the insurrection implied in the act of Don Rafael, and the inscription that announced it, had something in it of a chivalric character, which was not displeasing to the spirit of Gertrudis. It did not fail to plead the cause of the absent lover; and at one time her affection was even reconquered – that is, when it came to be known that the head of the insurgent chief had replaced that of Don Rafael’s father, and that it was blood that had been paid for blood.

If in that crisis the captain had presented himself, Don Mariano, it is true, might not have consented to his daughter forming an alliance with a renegade to the Mexican cause. The profound patriotism of the haciendado might have revolted at such a connection; but an explanation, frank and sincere, would have expelled from the thoughts both of himself and his daughter all idea of treason or disloyalty on the part of Don Rafael. The latter, ignorant of the fact that the news of his father’s death had not reached Las Palmas – until a period posterior to the report of that of Valdez – very naturally neglected the favourable moment for an éclaircissement.

How many irreparable misfortunes spring from that same cause – misunderstanding!

The two captains, Caldelas and Tres-Villas, soon transformed the hacienda of Del Valle into a species of fortress, which some species of cannon, received from the governor of the province, enabled them to do. In strength the place might defy any attack which the insurgent bands of the neighbourhood could direct against it.

During the constant excursions which he made against the other two assassins of his father, Arroyo and Bocardo, Don Rafael left the charge of their citadel to the Captain Caldelas.

Listening only to the whisperings of his heart, he had finished by making a compromise between his love and his pride. Repelling the idea of communicating by a messenger, he had at one time resolved to present himself in person at the hacienda of Las Palmas; but, carried forward by the ardour of his vengeance, he dreaded that an interview with Gertrudis might have the effect of weakening his resolution; and for this reason he deferred seeking the interview, until he should complete the accomplishment of that rash vow made over the grave of his murdered parent.

Notwithstanding the almost superhuman efforts which he daily made in the pursuit of the insurgents, the result was not such as to appease his spirit of vengeance. Man by man did he accomplish the destruction of their band; but both the leaders still contrived to escape. In fine, after more than two months had passed since the death of Valdez, the rumour became spread throughout the neighbourhood that Arroyo and Bocardo had quitted the province of Oajaca, and gone northward with the remnant of their guerilla to offer their services to General Hidalgo.

On receiving this news Don Rafael, who had been absent on a protracted scout, returned to the hacienda Del Valle. During his absence, an order had arrived from the general-in-chief of the vice-regal army, commanding him to return to duty with his regiment – the Queen’s dragoons.

Before obeying this order, however, he resolved on devoting one day to the affairs of his heart; and, permitting his love to conquer his pride, he determined on presenting himself at the hacienda of Las Palmas.

Alas! it might now be too late. A justification in the eyes of Don Mariano would now be more difficult than it might have been two months before. During that time appearances had been converted into realities, suspicions into certainties, and Don Rafael was for him no longer aught but a common renegade. Certain words which he was in the habit of repeating to his daughter, told too plainly his opinion of the dragoon captain; and these words rang in the ears of Gertrudis as a sad presentiment which she almost believed already accomplished.

“Do not weep for the defection of Don Rafael,” said the haciendado, endeavouring to dry his daughter’s tears. “He will be false to his mistress, as he has been to his country.”

What appeared a strange circumstance in the eyes of the father – these words only caused Gertrudis to weep the more abundantly and bitterly!

Nevertheless, such had been the former friendship of Don Mariano for the young officer – such the tender passion kindled in the heart of Gertrudis – that it is possible, had Don Rafael even then presented himself before them – his countenance open and beaming with the manly pride of accomplished duty – the frankness of his bearing, and the loyalty of his speech, might have still dissipated the clouds that hung over the heads of all.

Unfortunately destiny had decided otherwise. It was not decreed by fate that at that hour Don Rafael should enter, as a friend, the hospitable gates of the hacienda Las Palmas.

Chapter Forty One.
A Rude Reception

Don Rafael had now become known throughout all Oajaca as one of the most energetic foes of the insurrection. Among the country-people, therefore – the majority of whom were of Creole blood, and of course revolutionary in principle – he need not expect to meet many friends. Every man whom he might encounter was pretty certain of being his enemy. For this reason, although it was only a league from the hacienda Del Valle to that of Las Palmas, he deemed it prudent to take half-a-dozen of his troopers along with him – a wise precaution, as the event proved.

After crossing the chain of hills that separated the two estates, the dragoon captain and his escort rode direct for the postern of the hacienda Las Palmas, that opened to the rear of the building. This, for some reason, had been recently walled up; and it became necessary for them to go round to the main entrance in front. Scarce, however, had the horse of Don Rafael doubled the angle of the wall, when he and his little band were suddenly confronted by a score of horsemen of ruffianly aspect, who opposed the passage, the leader of them vociferating loudly: —

“Muera al traidor – mueran los coyotes!” (Death to the traitor! – death to the jackals!)

At the same instant one of the assailants, charging recklessly forward, brought his horse into collision with that of Don Rafael, and with such a violent shock that the steed of the dragoon officer was thrown to the ground.

In this crisis the agility of Don Rafael, along with his herculean strength, enabled him to save himself. Instantly disengaging his limbs from the body of his horse, he sprang upon that of one of his escort who had just fallen from his saddle, thrust through by one of the insurgents; and after a short struggle, in which several of the assailants succumbed, Don Rafael, with his five remaining followers, was enabled to retreat back to the ridge, where their enemies had not the courage to follow them.

One of his men killed – with the loss of his favourite bay-brown – such was the result of Don Rafael’s attempt to justify his conduct after two months of silence! No wonder that with bitter emotions he retraced his steps to the hacienda Del Valle.

His heart was wrung with grief and disappointment. This hacienda of Las Palmas, where two months before he had been the honoured guest, now sheltered the enemies that were thirsting for his blood.

These, after their unsuccessful attempt to possess themselves of the person of Don Rafael, hastened back towards the entrance of the building.

“You stupid sot!” exclaimed one of them, speaking in angry tones, and addressing a companion by his side; “why did you not allow him to get into the hacienda? Once inside, we should have had him at our mercy, and then – Carajo!”

The speaker, a man of ferocious and brutal aspect, here made a gesture of fearful meaning, as an appropriate finish to his speech.

“Don Mariano would not have permitted it,” rejoined the other, by way of excusing himself for having been the cause of the dragoon officer’s escape. “Once under his roof, he would never have consented to our molesting him.”

“Bah!” exclaimed the first speaker. “It’s past the time when we require to ask Don Mariano’s permission. We are no longer his servants. The time is come when the servants shall be the masters, and the masters the servants, Carajo! What care I for the emancipation of the country? What I care for is blood and plunder.”

The fierce joy that blazed in the eyes of the speaker as he pronounced the last words, told too plainly that these were his veritable sentiments.

The second of the two brigands who, though smaller in size and of a more astute expression of countenance, was equally characterised by an aspect of brutal ferocity – for a moment appeared to quail before the indignation of his companion.

“Carajo!” continued the first, “we have got to shift our quarters. If that furious captain finds out that we are here, he will set fire to the four corners of the hacienda, and roast us alive in it. Fool that I was to listen to you!”

“Who could have foreseen that he would get off so?” said the lesser man, still endeavouring to excuse himself.

“You, Carrai!” thundered the bandit; and overcome by rage and chagrin at the escape of his mortal enemy, he drew his poignard, and struck a left-handed blow at the bosom of his associate. The latter severely wounded, uttering a cry of pain, fell heavily from his horse.

Without staying to see whether or not he had killed his comrade, the guerillero dashed through the gate of the hacienda; and, dismounting in the courtyard, ran, carbine in hand, up the stone stairway that led to the azotéa.

Meanwhile Don Rafael and his five horsemen were ascending the hill that sloped up from the rear of the building.

“Santos Dios! it is very strange!” remarked one of the troopers to a companion. “It’s the general belief that Arroyo and Bocardo have quitted the province, but if I’m not mistaken – ”

“It was they, to a certainty,” interrupted the second trooper. “I know them well, only I didn’t wish to tell our captain. He is so furious against these two fellows, that if he had only known it was they who attacked us, we should not have had much chance of being permitted to retreat as we have done.”

The man had scarce finished speaking when the report of a carbine, fired from the roof of the hacienda, reverberated along the ridge, and the trooper fell mortally wounded from his saddle.

A bitter smile curled upon the lips of Don Rafael, and a sharp pang shot through his heart, as he compared the adieu he was now receiving from the inhabitants of the hacienda, with that which had accompanied his departure but two months before.

The fatal bullet had struck that very trooper who had judged it prudent to conceal from his officer the names of his assailants.

“’Tis Arroyo who has fired the shot!” involuntarily exclaimed the other, who also believed that he had recognised the insurgent.

“Arroyo!” exclaimed the captain, in a tone of angry surprise; “Arroyo within that hacienda, and you have not told me!” added he, in a furious voice, while his moustachios appeared to crisp with rage.

The trooper was for the moment in great danger of almost as rude treatment as Arroyo had just given his associate. Don Rafael restrained himself, however; and, without waiting to reflect on consequences, he ordered one of his followers – the best mounted of them – to proceed at once to the hacienda Del Valle, and bring fifty men well armed, with a piece of cannon by which the gate of Las Palmas might be broken open.

The messenger departed at a gallop, while Don Rafael and his three remaining troopers, screening themselves behind the crest of the ridge, sat in their saddles silently awaiting his return.

It was long before Don Rafael’s blood began to cool; and in proportion as it did so, he experienced a degree of sorrow for the act of hostility he was about to undertake against the father of Gertrudis.

A violent contest commenced within his breast, between two opposing sentiments of nearly equal strength. Whether he persisted in his resolution, or retreated from it, both courses seemed equally criminal. The voice of duty, and that of passion, spoke equally loud. To which should he listen?

The struggle, long and violent, between these antagonistic sentiments, had not yet terminated, when the detachment arrived upon the ground. This decided him. It was too late to retire from his first determination. On towards the hacienda! Don Rafael drew his sword, and, placing himself at the head of his troop, rode down the hill. The bugle sounding the “advance,” warned the inhabitants of the hacienda that a detachment of cavalry was crossing the ridge.

A few minutes after, the squadron halted before the great gate, at a little distance from the walls. A horseman advanced in front of the line, and once more having sounded the bugle, in the name of Don Rafael Tres-Villas, Captain of the Royalist army, summoned Don Mariano de Silva to deliver up, dead or alive, the insurgents, Arroyo and Bocardo.

The demand having been made, Don Rafael, with pale face, and heart audibly beating, sat motionless in his saddle to await the response.

Silence – profound silence alone made reply to the summons of the horseman and the sound of his trumpet.

Chapter Forty Two.
Bearding a Brigand

In addition to the consequences that would arise from his resolve – already foreseen by Don Rafael Tres-Villas – there was one other of which he could not have had any foresight.

A glance into the interior of the hacienda will proclaim this consequence.

Within that chamber, already known to the reader, were Don Mariano de Silva, with his two daughters; and their situation was enough to justify the silence which succeeded to the summons of the dragoon. Inside the closed door, and by the side of the two young girls, stood Arroyo and Bocardo. Poignard in hand, the brigands were tracing out to Don Mariano the line of conduct he should pursue.

“Listen to me, Don Mariano de Silva,” said the former, with an air of brutal mockery that was habitual to him, “I rather think you are too loyal a gentleman to dishonour the laws of hospitality by delivering up your guests.”

“It is true,” replied the haciendado, “you may rest assured – ”

“I know it,” continued Arroyo, interrupting him; “you would not betray us of your own accord. But this demon of a dragoon captain will break open the gate, and take us in spite of your intreaties. Now, listen! and hear what I wish you to do.”

“Can you suggest any means of preventing him from acting thus?”

“Nothing more simple, good Señor de Silva. This coyote of the devil is your personal friend. If in the quality of your serving-man – that is, in times past – I chanced to apprehend a little of what was going on, you cannot blame me. If I am not mistaken, the dragoon captain has a little weakness for the pretty Doña Gertrudis. For that reason he will pay some regard to the danger that now hangs over the young lady’s head.”

“Danger! I do not comprehend you.”

“You will, presently. You may say to the captain outside there, that if he persists in breaking open your gates, he may capture us alive. That he may do, beyond doubt; but as to yourself, and your two daughters, he will find nothing more of you than your dead bodies. You understand me now?”

Arroyo need not have been so explicit. Half the speech would have been enough to explain his fearful meaning. The air of ferocity that characterised his features was sufficiently indicative of his thoughts.

The daughters of Don Mariano, terrified at his looks, flung themselves simultaneously into the arms of their father.

At that moment the notes of the bugle resounded through the building; and the voice of the dragoon was heard for the second time pronouncing his summons.

The haciendado, troubled about the fate of his children – thus completely in the power of his unfaithful vaqueros, whose companions crowded the corridor – permitted the second summons to pass without response.

“Mil Devionios!” cried the bandit, “why do you hesitate? Come! show yourself at the window, and make known to this furious captain what I have told you. Carrai! if you do not – ”

The bugle sounding for the third summons drowned the remainder of the brigand’s speech. As soon as the trumpet notes had ceased to echo from the walls, a voice was heard from without, the tones of which produced within the heart of Gertrudis at the same moment both fear and joy.

It was the voice of Rafael.

Quickly following it were heard the cries of the troopers as they called aloud —

“Death to the enemies of Spain!”

“One moment!” shouted Don Mariano, presenting himself at the window, where he could command a view of the plain below; “I have two words to say to your captain: where is he?”

“Here!” responded Don Rafael, riding a pace or two in front.

“Ah! pardon,” said the haciendado, with a bitter smile; “I have hitherto known Captain Tres-Villas only as a friend. I could not recognise him in the man who threatens with ruin the house where he has been a guest.”

At this imprudent speech – whose irony Don Mariano had not been able to conceal – the face of the Captain, hitherto deadly pale, became red.

“And I,” he replied, “can only recognise in you the promoter of an impious insurrection, which I have striven to crush, and the master of a mansion of which brigands are the guests. You have understood my summons? They must be delivered up.”

“In any case,” rejoined the haciendado, “I should not have betrayed those I had promised to protect. As it is, however, I am not left to my own choice in this matter; and I am charged to say to you, on the part of those whom you pursue, that they will poignard my two daughters and myself before suffering themselves to fall into your hands. Our lives depend on them, Captain Tres-Villas. It is for you to say, whether you still persist in your demand, that they be delivered up to you.”

The irony had completely disappeared from the speech and countenance of the haciendado, and his last words were pronounced with a sad but firm dignity, that went to the heart of Don Rafael.

A cloud came over it at the thought of Gertrudis falling under the daggers of the guerilleros, whom he knew to be capable of executing their threat; and it was almost with a feeling of relief that he perceived this means of escaping from a duty, whose fulfilment he had hitherto regarded as imperious.

“Well, then,” said he, after a short silence, and in a tone that bespoke the abandonment of his resolution, “say to the brigand, who is called Arroyo, that he has nothing to fear, if he will only show himself. I pledge my solemn word to this. I do not mean to grant him pardon – only that reprieve which humanity claims for him.”

“Oh! I don’t require your solemn word,” cried the bandit, impudently presenting himself by the side of Don Mariano. “Inside here I have two hostages, that will answer for my life better than your word. You wish me to show myself. What want you with me, Señor Captain?”

With the veins of his forehead swollen almost to bursting, his lip quivering with rage, and his eyes on fire, Don Rafael looked upon the assassin of his father – the man whom he had so long vainly pursued – the brigand, in fine, whom he could seize in a moment, and yet was compelled to let escape. No wonder that it cost him an effort to subdue the impetuous passions that were struggling in his breast.

Involuntarily his hand closed upon the reins of his bridle, and his spurs pressed against the flanks of his horse, till the animal, tormented by the touch, reared upwards, and bounded forward almost to the walls of the hacienda.

One might have fancied that his rider intended to clear the obstacle that separated him from his cowardly enemy – who, on his part, could not restrain himself from making a gesture of affright.

“That which I wish of the brigand Arroyo,” at length responded the Captain, “is to fix his features in my memory, so that I may know them again, when I pursue him, to drag his living body after the heels of my horse.”

“If it is to promise me only such favours that you have called me out – ” said the bandit, making a motion to re-enter the chamber.

“Stay – hear me!” cried Don Rafael, interrupting him with a gesture; “your life is safe. I have said it. Humanity has compelled me to spare you.”

“Carrambo! I am grateful, Captain; I know the act is to your taste.”

“Gratitude from you would be an insult; but if in the red ditch-water that runs through your heart there be a spark of courage, mount your horse, choose what arms you please, and come forth. I defy you to single combat!”

Don Rafael in pronouncing this challenge rose erect in his stirrups. His countenance, noble and defiant, presented a strange contrast to the aspect of vulgar ferocity that characterised the features of the man thus addressed. The insult was point blank, and would have aroused the veriest poltroon; but Arroyo possessed only the courage of the vulture.

“Indeed?” responded he, sneeringly. “Bah! do you suppose me such a fool as to go down there? fifty to one!”

“I pledge my honour, as a gentleman,” continued the captain, “as an officer, in the presence of his soldiers; as a Christian, in the presence of his God – that whatever may be the issue of the combat – that is, if I succumb – no harm shall happen to you.”

For a moment the bandit appeared to hesitate. One might have fancied that he was calculating the chances of an encounter. But the address and valour of the dragoon captain were known to him by too many proofs, to allow him to reckon many chances in his favour. He dared not risk the combat.

“I refuse,” he said, at length.

“Mount your horse. I shall abandon mine, and fight you on foot.”

“Demonio! I refuse, I tell you.”

“Enough. I might have known it. One word more then, I shall still agree to your life being spared. I solemnly promise it, if you will allow the inmates of this hacienda to leave the place, and put themselves under the safeguard of a loyal enemy.”

“I refuse again,” said the bandit, with a demoniac sneer.

“Away, poltroon! you are less than man; and, by the God of vengeance, when this hand clutches you, you shall not die as a man, but as a mad dog.”

After delivering this terrible adieu, the captain put spurs to his horse, turning his back upon the bandit with a gesture of the most profound contempt.

The bugle sounded the “forward;” and the detachment, wheeling around the wall of the hacienda, once more took the road that led over the ridge.

Among other bitter reflections, with which this interview had furnished Don Rafael, not the least painful was his apprehension for the safety of Gertrudis. No wonder he should have fears; considering the character of the ruffians in whose power he was compelled to leave her.

The apprehensions of Don Rafael were only realised in part.

Two days afterwards he received information from one of his scouts – sent to Las Palmas for the purpose – that Arroyo and Bocardo had quitted the neighbourhood – this time in reality – and that Don Mariano and his daughters had suffered no further injury from them, beyond the pillage of their hacienda. This the robbers had stripped of every valuable that it was convenient for them to carry away.