Chapter 18

WHO RODE THE SHOD HORSE?

While waiting for the gaucho to rejoin them by the fire the two youths are not silent, but converse upon the event which saddens and still mystifies them. For up till this moment they have not seen anything, nor can they think of aught to account for the calamity which has befallen them--the double crime that has been committed. No more can they conceive who have been the perpetrators; though Cypriano all along has had his suspicions. And now for the first time he communicates them to his cousin, saying--

"It's been the work of Tovas Indians."

"Impossible, Cypriano!" exclaims Ludwig in surprise. "Why should they murder my poor father? What motive could they have had for it?"

"Motive enough; at least one of them had."

"One! who mean you?"

"Aguara."

"Aguara! But why he of all the others? And for what?"

"For what? Simply to get possession of your sister."

Ludwig starts, showing greater astonishment than ever.

"Cypriano!" he exclaims; "what do you mean?"

"Just what I've said, cousin. You're perhaps not aware of what I've myself known for long; that the chief's son has been fixing his eyes on Francesca."

"The scoundrel!" cries Ludwig, with increasing indignation, for the first time apprised of the fact thus made known to him. Unobservant of such things generally, it had never occurred to him to reflect on what had long been patent to the jealous eyes of Cypriano. Besides, the thing seemed so absurd, even preposterous--a red-skinned savage presuming to look upon his sister in the light of a sweetheart, daring to love her--that the son of the Prussian naturalist, with all the prejudices of race, could not be otherwise than incredulous of it.

"Are you sure of that?" he questions, still doubting. "Sure of what you've said, Cypriano?"

"Quite sure," is the confident rejoinder; "more than once I've observed Aguara's free behaviour towards my cousin; and once would have thrashed the impudent redskin, but for uncle interfering. He was afraid it might get us into trouble with Naraguana."

"But did father himself know of it? I mean about Aguara and Francesca?"

"No. I rather think not. And I disliked telling him."

All this is new light to Ludwig, and turns his thoughts into the same channel of suspicion where those of Cypriano have been already running. Still, whatever he may think of Naraguana's son, he cannot bring himself to believe that Naraguana has been guilty. His father's friend, and hitherto their protector!

"It cannot be!" he exclaims; "surely it cannot be!"

"It may be for all that, and in my opinion is. Ah! cousin, there's no telling how an Indian will act. I never knew one who didn't turn treacherous when it served his purpose. Whether the old chief has been so or not, I'm quite sure his son has. Take my word for it, Ludwig, it's the Tovas Indians who've done this deed, and it will be with them we'll have to deal."

"But whither can they have gone? and why went they off so suddenly and secretly, without letting father or any of us know. All that certainly seems strange."

"Not so strange when we think of what's happened since. My idea is, it's been all a planned thing. Aguara got his father to agree to his carrying off Francesca; and the old chief, controlled by the young one, let him take his way. Fearing to face uncle he first went off, taking the whole tribe along; and they're now, no doubt, residing in some distant part of the Chaco, where they suppose we'll never go after them. But Francesca will be there too; and we must follow and find her--ay, if we have to lay down our lives when she's found. Shall we not, cousin?"

"Yes; shall and will!" is Ludwig's rejoinder in a tone of determination; their dialogue getting interrupted by Gaspar coming back to the camp-fire, and saying--

"Now, _senoritos_! It's high time we had some supper."

On making this announcement the gaucho himself sets about preparing their evening repast. It requires no great effort of culinary skill; since the more substantial portion of it has been already cooked, and is now presented in the shape of a cold shoulder of mutton, with a cake of corn bread, extracted from a pair of _alparejas_, or saddle-bags. In the Chaco there are sheep--the Indians themselves breeding them--while since settling there the hunter-naturalist had not neglected either pastoral or agricultural pursuits. Hence the meal from which came that cake of maize-bread.

With these two _pieces de resistance_ nothing remains but to make a cup of "Paraguay tea," for which Gaspar has provided all the materials, viz., an iron kettle for boiling water, cups of cocoa-nut shell termed _mates_--for this is the name of the vessel, not the beverage--and certain tubes, the _bombillas_, to serve as spoons; the Paraguayan tea being imbibed, not in the ordinary way, but sucked up through these _bombillas_. All the above implements, with a little sugar for sweetening; and, lastly, the _yerba_ itself, has the thoughtful gaucho brought along. No milk, however; the lacteal fluid not being deemed a necessary ingredient in the cup which cheers the Paraguayan people, without intoxicating them.

Gaspar--as all gauchos, skilled in the concoction of it--in a short time has the three _mates_ brimful of the brew. Then the _bombillas_ are inserted, and the process of sucking commences; suspended only at intervals while the more substantial mutton and maize-bread are being masticated.

Meanwhile, as a measure of security, the camp-fire has been extinguished, though they still keep their places around its embers. And while eating, converse; Cypriano imparting to Gaspar the suspicions he has already communicated to his cousin.

It is no new idea to the gaucho; instead, the very one his own thoughts have been dwelling upon. For he, too, had long observed the behaviour of the young Tovas chief towards the daughter of his _dueno_. And what has now occurred seems to coincide with that--all except the supposed treachery of Naraguana. A good judge of character, as most gauchos are, Gaspar cannot think of the aged cacique having turned traitor. Still, as Ludwig, he is at a loss what to think. For why should the Tovas chief have made that abrupt departure from his late abiding place? The reason assigned by Cypriano is not, to his view, satisfactory; though he cannot imagine any other. So, they finish their suppers and retire to rest, without having arrived at any certain conclusion, one way or the other.

With heads rested upon their saddles, and their ponchos wrapped around them, they seek sleep, Ludwig first finding it; next Cypriano, though he lies long awake--kept so by torturing thoughts. But tired nature at length overpowers him, and he too sinks into slumber.

The gaucho alone surrenders not to the drowsy god; but, repelling his attacks, still lies reflecting. Thus run his reflections--as will be seen, touching near the truth:

"_Carramba_! I can think of but one man in all the world who had an interest in the death of my dear master. One there was who'd have given a good deal to see him dead--that's El Supremo. No doubt he searched high and low for us, after we gave him the slip. But then, two years gone by since! One would think it enough to have made him almost forget us. Forgive, no! that wouldn't be Senor Jose Francia. He never forgives. Nor is it likely he has forgotten, either, what the _dueno_