Back Aa

Silent Rifleman: A Tale of the Texan Prairies

Close

<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> THE DOUBLE TRAITOR. There was no need of discussion or debate, so evidently correct was the plan of the Partisan; nor, had his views been much more questionable than they were, is it at all probable that any opposition would have been made, so completely had he gained the confidence of the whole party, by his promptitude, his gallantry, and his extraordinary coolness in danger. The heads of all the horses, therefore, were turned westward, and away they rode at as rapid a rate as the nature of the ground permitted. In the present order of the march, the most danger being anticipated from the rear, the oldest and most intelligent of the dragoons was detached to a hundred yards in front, followed by the three others; two leading the pack mules, and the third having charge of the prisoner, about whose neck one end of the lasso was still secured, while the other was made fast to the pummel of the soldier's saddle. After these, Gordon and his fair bride rode together, conversing at times in a low voice, but yet oftener keeping silence. In the rear of all rode the Partisan, alone, at nearly a hundred yards distance from the little group which preceded him. As they galloped onward, however, through the belt of timber which bordered the Western as well as the Eastern marge of the Bravo del Norte, time slipped away and brought no sounds of pursuit from the rear. Just as they were approaching so nearly to the margin of the open ground, that the dragoon, who acted as vidette, was looking round for orders, Pierre uttered a shrill, long-drawn whistle, which was the preconcerted signal for a halt; and, after the rest of the party had pulled up their horses, galloped forward himself till he reached the extreme verge of the covert, where, without speaking a single word, he dismounted, fastening his charger to a tree, and advanced stealthily into the open prairie. After being absent about twenty minutes, during which the remainder of his party had lost sight of him altogether, he returned with a thoughtful expression11 on his strongly-marked features, and walked through the little group of dragoons and pack mules, until he reached Gordon and his fair bride, who sat on their panting horses, eagerly awaiting his approach. "Have you heard anything," he asked, quietly, "from the forest in our rear?" "Not a sound," replied the young officer. "There are three smokes, one hereaway, some six miles to the southward. Now there are three plans, of which we must choose one, and then act on it for life or death. We must work twenty miles due north, up this forest land, and so get above their posts—which were the safest plan of all, if it would not carry us so far out of our route, and bring us far too soon into the settled country, quite out of the line of our communications—or we must strike due southward for that extinguished fire, and so strive to make our way down to our posts at Mier and Camargo, which would do well enough did not the whole of that country swarm with guerilleros—or, again, we must drive right onward, and take the chance of falling on the party at the little fire unawares, and finding them as few that we can master them. If we succeed in doing so, we have the best chance of reaching Monterey in safety. For, once through these frontier parties, we shall, it is likely, find the country clear until we reach our outposts." "The risk of the three, then, is nearly equal," said Gordon, musing deeply. "The immediate risk of the last is greatest; the ultimate risk the least; but, in truth, it is chance, anyhow." Gordon desired him to help the lady to mount, replaced his slender baggage on the back of the good horse Emperor, and then, without setting a foot in the stirrup, laid his hand lightly on the pummel, and vaulted into the saddle. After this, miles and miles vanished beneath the feet of their horses, as they pressed onward steadily and swiftly; Pierre, once again in the van, leading them on, rifle unslung and ready, at Emperor's fast slashing trot. Now they were within a mile or less of the digy brow, steeper and more abrupt than any which they had yet passed, from the other side of which the smoke rose in grey volumes, having been fed with recent fuel. Here, then, Pierre halted, and caused the pack-mules to be securely tethered to stakes driven into the moist earth of the prairie bottom, together with the horse of the Mexican. The prisoner—after being once more interrogated, and persisting in his tale that there were but six men; that there was a large stream at the base of the descent; and that the fire was on this side of the stream—was dismounted, gagged, bound hand and foot, and laid on his back upon the grass. This done, Gordon arranged his handful of men, himself leading on the right, while Pierre rode forward some six horse-lengths in advance, and Julia, who had refused positively to remain behind the pack-mules, followed a length or two behind. Now they were within twenty paces of the extreme brow of the ridge, which alone separated them from their enemy—three paces more would have brought their heads into relief against the sky above the summit of the hill, and discovered them to the sentinel, if there were one, on duty. At this moment, Pierre pulled his horse short up, dismounted silently, and with a gesture to the well-trained and gallant animal, which, it was evident, he understood—for he stood stock still on the instant, with ears erect, expanded nostril, straining eye, quivering in every limb with fiery eagerness—cast himself down, rifle in hand, among the shorter herbage which clothed the steep ascent. There were, as the prisoner had stated, six men only; two of whom were awake, the one a sentinel stalking to and fro with the escopeta in his hand, the other, a non-commissioned officer, who sat smoking his cigarillo by the fire, over which a camp kettle, filled with some savory mess, was simmering. The death-shot, which sped its bullet crashing through the brain of the hapless sentinel, aroused them all, and brought them to their feet, amazed and terrified, and unprepared for action. 12 Meantime, the dragoons crossed the bridge and poured down all abreast, receiving as they came, a straggling volley from the escopetas of the lancers, who seeing that flight was hopeless, stood to their arms like men, and making a desperate defense. Then came a desperate race, for life or death, across the firm dry prairie, which echoed under the thundering horse-tramps firm, solid, and elastic. The Mexican had, perhaps, gained a start of some fifty yards before his foe was across the brook, and his small but high-bred horse, being the fresher of the two, held his own for a little way, and even widened the gap at first, between himself and his pursuer. Ere long, however, the tremendous stride and power of the Anglo-American thorough-bred horse began to tell; and, at every stroke, the Partisan closed on him. Nor was the other slow to perceive the disadvantage. He stood up in his stirrups, looked quietly behind him, and seeing that none of the dragoons had passed the brook, but had dismounted and were now grouped about the fire, deliberately pulled his horse up, and, unslinging his escopeta, took a deliberate aim at Pierre Delacroix. He fired. The ball whizzed through the air, so close to the head of the Partisan, that it severed one of his long, dark locks; but it passed onward harmless. Then, seeing the failure of his missile, the Mexican couched his long lance and rode at the frontiers-man with a savage yell. Silently Pierre charged right upon him; but, when he was within a horse's length of the spear's point, he wheeled suddenly to the left, and as the Mexican was borne past him, delivered a straight lounge, en carte, which emptied his saddle in an instant, and left him but a minute's life to wrestle out on the greensward. The Partisan had no time to give mercy, and he rode away to join Gordon and the lady; but, ere he did so, he met the prisoner in charge of the two soldiers who had brought up the mules, and the fellow, looking at him half askance, asked him in Spanish, with a sullen and almost savage intonation, whether he had not told him truly. Pierre replied only by two words—"Very truly." But he noted the accent and half-sneering smile; and the first words he spoke as he joined the lieutenant, were: "Confound that scoundrel! I have half a mind to reward him with one ounce of lead instead of two of gold." "That were scarce worthy of you, Partisan," said Gordon, "and scarce worth the time. What harm can one poor devil like that do to six stout, well-armed fellows, such as we?" "I do not know," answered Pierre, "I do not know; but right sure I am, that he is a double traitor." <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2