Roughriders of the Pampas: A Tale of Ranch Life in South America

CHAPTER XVIII

A DASH FOR THE PAMPAS

Down under the brushwood and the brambles which thickly covered the ground between the trunks of the forest trees the darkness was intense. So black and forbidding that Dudley imagined that he could almost feel it and grip it in his hands. Not an inch could he see in front of his face, for it happened that a bank of clouds had blown across the face of the tiny crescent of the moon, which had hitherto sent a few rays straggling here and there in between the trees, and now not a leaf shimmered under the pale rays, not a trunk was visible, there was no light but the occasional flare, some yards behind him, as one of his own men opened fire.

"Just the time for me to succeed," he thought to himself when he had crawled a few yards on hands and knees. "I must be near the body of the man Pepito killed, and once I reach it I shall lie still and try to get the bearings of the enemy. Harold knows what I want. He is to give me ten minutes to reach this man and get some cover, and then he will open fire again in this direction."

The whole plan had, in fact, been very carefully discussed, for all knew that Antonio Sarvisti and his men would make the utmost effort to stop any and every attempt at escape, and if Dudley was to succeed it would not be by his own cunning and boldness alone, though the attempt was hazardous enough, but by the help and co-operation of his comrades.

"Ah, that is fortunate! I have found him."

A low exclamation of relief escaped his lips, for as he stretched out one hand, groping amidst the bushes and brambles, the fingers came in contact with the frilled edging of a man's overalls. The touch almost sent a shiver through our hero; for the sensation of crawling through this deep shadow was an uncanny one. True, he was almost sure that no living enemy was within some yards of him; but yet, as his fingers touched the man for the first time, the horrible suspicion that it might be a gaucho lying in wait for him flashed across his mind. He felt startled, and, withdrawing his hand, seized his hunting knife. Then he stretched out again, ran his fingers up the leg, and finally came to the face.

"Cold already," he said to himself, feeling immensely relieved. "And here is what I want, his hat and his neckcloth. Good! Now, unless the light is strong, none will be able to detect me."

As quickly as possible he relieved the body of hat and neckcloth and donned them himself. Then, determined to make the most of every second, and feeling sure that it was not yet time for Harold to open fire in his direction, he crawled on again as stealthily as any snake, clearing the ground before him, progressing a few inches only at a time, and taking the utmost pains to remove all sticks from his path. Now and again a bramble or a strong shoot from one of the bushes opposed his onward progress, and for a time he felt as if they were iron bars, so impossible to avoid them was it.

"If I push them aside they will swing back certainly," he thought. "Then, if I attempt to creep and wriggle under them they are sure to hit against others, and the sound they will make will be heard. Ah, my knife! That will make short work of them."

From that moment he held the weapon in his hand, for brambles were forever obstructing him; and besides, at that slow and careful pace it did not hinder his progress, and was there in case of some sudden attack.

Crack! Twenty yards behind him there was a sharp report which brought Dudley flat on his face, where he lay listening to the rip, rip of the bullet as it ploughed its way through the tree tops. Then he heard the gentle patter of falling twigs and leaves, cut in twain by the missile.

"Good, Harold!" he said beneath his breath. "You are a careful fellow. That is a warning shot, just to let me know you are about to open fire. I shall stay here. There is a big tree just behind me now, and I am fairly secure. Fire away!"

It seemed as if those he had left behind in the shallow trenches scooped in the earth had heard his words, for almost instantly there came a spluttering discharge, the flashes coming from a point on a level with the ground, while the bullets swept the forest, striking the trunks with resounding thuds, and often enough flying off at a tangent, accompanied by that high- or low-pitched hum which tells of a ricochet, a sound pleasant enough to listen to if one has perfect cover, but sufficiently trying under other circumstances. Patter, patter, patter. Dudley heard the gentle fall of twigs and leaves again, and smiled grimly as he wondered what the enemy thought of it all.

"Perhaps they imagine we are scared," he thought. "That will be all the better, for then they will hardly expect an attempt at escape. Ah, there the boys go again!"

Another spluttering volley burst from the trees behind him, while a second later Pepito's voice was heard resounding loudly through the forest, and undoubtedly intended for the ears of the enemy.

"Fire, fire!" he shouted. "The rascals are crawling near. Sweep them away! Shoot them down as they come!"

There was a note of terror in his voice, a note which Antonio Sarvisti distinguished with a snarl of pleasure.

"It is not to be all for one side," he said to his surly lieutenant, who forever hovered at his elbow. "They caught us nicely when we attacked, and we suffered in consequence; but the attempt has had its effect. Those fools over there have an attack of nerves. That sudden volley was fired by men who are scared, who see ghosts in the forest, who imagine sounds which have no existence, and who blaze away for no reason at all. Good for us, amico! Their ammunition will not last forever. We will do our best to give them many an alarm."

He sent a man round his following at once with orders that every now and again a few should creep forward a few paces, making as much noise as possible.

"That will draw their fire," he said with a chuckle. "That will empty their magazine and soon place them helplessly in our hands."

Meanwhile Dudley lay flat on his face, listening intently, and waiting patiently till the fusillade from behind him had died down. He could hear the click of the locks as the men reloaded, could discern Harold's voice as he directed their fire, and even caught the far-off murmur of men talking, for Antonio Sarvisti spoke aloud to his lieutenant. But, strain his ears as he would, there was no sound from in front of him, nothing to denote that an enemy was lurking there.

"Which seems to prove that they have cleared away," he said. "We have searched this part already with our fire, and the enemy will have learned to avoid it. I shall be surprised if I meet a single man. There, I think that will be Harold's last shot in this direction for a while, so that I can soon begin to move forward."

Ping! Crash! There was another flash behind him, proving that his comrades had not yet finished their portion of the plan. Bang! There came a second, quick on its heels, and then a shriek, a bloodcurdling shriek, which rang through the forest, seeming to be tossed backward and forward between the trees till it died down mournfully in the distance. It was the last frantic call of a man who had been hit, and the sound came from a point not fifteen yards in front of our hero.

"Hit!" he murmured, a cold chill running all over his body, for the shriek had startled him. "Poor beggar! I imagine he thought, as I did, that the firing was done with for a time, and sat up to listen. That second bullet must have caught him, and probably killed him instantly. Well, it is hard for him but fortunate for me, for he lay right in my track."

It was indeed a lucky shot for Dudley, but for his comrades behind it was a very different matter. Harold Joyce, the young commander of the party, had fired the weapon, intending that it should be the very last to be directed along the path which Dudley was taking. He had judged the elevation of his shot as carefully as possible considering the darkness, and he had sent it swishing through the trees some three feet above the ground, high enough to escape our hero's head. But the sudden shriek dismayed him. He dropped the weapon, turned deathly pale, and snatched desperately at Pepito's sleeve.

"Who was that?" he demanded anxiously. "Oh, I have killed him! Do you hear me? I have shot the best friend I have ever had, the bravest and most generous fellow under the sun."

He was almost weeping. There were big tears in his eyes, while the handsome gaucho beside him heard him gulp down a sob. Harold was thoroughly unhinged by that awful shriek. Fear that he had killed his friend drove him frantic, and, starting to his feet, he would have shouted aloud, had not Pepito restrained him.

"Lie still, señor," he said in firm but friendly tones. "That call came from a point far beyond the spot where our leader lies. I am sure of that fact, for my ears are good. It was one of the enemy who fell, and at this moment the señor who has so bravely gone from our fort is lying as still as death, waiting for our fire to cease so that he may crawl onward. Silence, señor! If you call, all these ruffians will know that we are making an effort."

It was true. Slowly it dawned upon Harold's brain that a call to his friend would warn the enemy. He longed to be able to give a shout, to send some signal to Dudley and to receive one in return. He would even have crawled out of the fort and followed him, with the one purpose of convincing himself that his old friend was unharmed. But the tall, sturdy gaucho stretched beside him held him with a firm hand, and whispered reassuringly to him, though he himself in his own heart had also some misgiving.

"Lie still and wait, señor," he said. "The matter is as I have said. Our leader is alive and well; but if you call or move, the enemy will suspect, and then——"

There was no need to say more, for Harold understood. Discovery would lead to almost certain execution, either promptly or at the convenience of the enemy. For Antonio Sarvisti and his men had suffered, and the sudden shriek from the depths of the forest had not helped to improve their feeling for the little band about whom they lay. The rascals, one and all, ground their teeth, and swore that when the time came they would kill every one of these stubborn fellows.

"They shall receive what they deserve," growled Antonio, beside himself with rage. "I will hang two men for each one that I have lost, and so teach all that resistance is fatal. These dogs would have done better to have surrendered at once, and given in to my will. They shall learn that Antonio Sarvisti is a hard man to deal with."

As for Dudley, the shriek had unnerved him for a moment, and had caused him to flatten himself even closer to the ground, and to burrow his head beneath the brambles, for there is nothing which makes a man wish more to sink into the earth than the ugly rip, rip of bullets flying close overhead. Then, too, he had other missiles to be cautious of, for that terrible call had brought answering calls from the forest. Antonio's men shouted in their anger, and opened a heavy fire, their bullets swishing over the fort, and cutting their way through the forest. The flashes of their weapons blazed out here and there, from right and left, and from the pampas; but from that point immediately to the front, where Harold's men had swept the underwood with their fire, there was not a flash. Not a report sounded in that direction.

"Then the plan succeeds so far," said Dudley. "Once I am sure that Harold and his men have finished, I will move on again. Ah, that is his signal!"

The fusillade had died down now, and for the space of two minutes the forest was sunk in silence. Then a single shot rang out, echoing sharply amidst the trees, and once more our hero heard the bullet burst its way through the tangled leaves far overhead, severing the usual shower of twigs and green.

"Time to get along," he thought. "Harold's signal is clear enough. Now for the most difficult part of the undertaking."

He was on his hands and knees in less than a second, and then commenced the same cautious crawling progress through the underwood. Twigs and dried or rotting sticks were carefully put aside, while the knife which he still carried in his hand severed the brambles with a slash. Not a rustle disturbed the stillness in his direction, though here and there, as he paused again and again to listen, rose the murmur of voices, the gentle call of men to one another. Then out came the moon, floating from behind the clouds which had ridden across her face. The pale rays shone down upon pampas and forest, and, penetrating here and there, lit up a tiny patch, making brambles and tree trunks stand out prominently. There were dozens of such bright areas, and Dudley carefully steered his course away from them, fearful lest the light should show him to the enemy. Then, of a sudden, he came to a halt again. A man was standing behind a tree some twenty yards away, his head and one shoulder illuminated by the rays falling from above. The black, shadowy line of the tree trunk cut across his body, hiding it from view, and leaving only the head and shoulder visible, as well as the rifle which he gripped in one hand. The face could be seen clearly, stern and expectant, while one ear was turned as if the gaucho was listening intently.

"He must have heard a suspicious sound," thought Dudley, his breath coming fast, while his heart pattered loudly against his ribs. "Yes, he is looking this way, and if it were not so dark I might almost think that he saw me. Ah, he does!"

It would have been a trying moment even for an old hand, experienced in this forest warfare, and the reader need think none the less of Dudley if he again shrank close to the ground and almost shivered with apprehension. It was not only that he feared this one man. A combination of circumstances had served to strain his nerves to breaking pitch; the clatter of musketry, the sharp rip of the bullets, that terrible scream, and now the uncanny silence, the darkness of the forest with these illuminated patches, in one of which stood one of the enemy.

"Was he discovered? The man's eyes were surely fixed on him. He must fire at him if he wished to escape."

The thoughts ran through Dudley's head, and for a while he felt bewildered. Then his old coolness returned to him, or at least a portion of it. He realized that it was impossible for the man to have seen him, for he lay in a wide patch of inky shadow. Perhaps he had heard some sound, and was merely suspicious. "Ah! He was calling."

The face behind the tree turned suddenly, till the back of the head was alone to be seen. Then a low call broke the silence, a call which was answered from some distance away. Presently a crash amidst the brushwood told that someone was moving, and as Dudley stared at the brilliant patch, one of the gauchos appeared, a hulking, slouching rascal, with surly features, between whose strong teeth was held a leaf which he was busily chewing. Immediately a second came upon the scene, a squat, ugly fellow whom he recognized at once as the leader of this band of desperadoes.

"If they rush at me I will get behind this tree and shoot them down," he thought, keeping his eyes on the trio, while he slipped one hand down to the pouch in which his revolver rested. "But they are not certain. The man only thinks he heard a sound. Perhaps they will go away."

"What is it?" demanded Antonio as he joined the two gauchos. "You called, amico? Did you see or hear anything?"

Dudley saw the eyes of the ruffian flash as he turned towards his man, for the moon fell directly upon his upturned face. He longed to know what was passing between them.

"Hear anything?" was the answer. "How can a man say? Perhaps it was the wind, perhaps a twig dropping from the tree tops, shot away by the dogs. I thought I heard a fellow moving, but that was two minutes ago. Listen, and you may be wiser than I am."

The three stood in the illuminated patch for perhaps five minutes, making not so much as a sound, while from the poise of their heads it was clear that they were listening. Then Antonio gave a gesture of disgust, and swung round on his heel.

"Ghosts, ghosts! always the same!" he exclaimed angrily. "You men are always seeing and hearing what does not exist. There is Bico, down on the opposite side. An hour ago he swore that he saw someone moving on his right and fired. It was a tree, and his bullet is buried deep in the trunk. But you are a careful man. You are wise to take note of even the smallest sound. However, it is not on this side that we need expect an attempt at escape. It is yonder, close to the pampas. Move to your right and you may be the lucky one to discover one of the dogs."

He turned again, stared into the forest, and was moving away, when once more a shot startled the silence, a shot which came from the fort burrowed at the roots of the trees behind Dudley. Crisp and clear it came, and, as fortune would have it, not a tree trunk stood in the way of the muzzle. It flew direct to the object at which it had been aimed, and in an instant Antonio's surly lieutenant was down, dropping without a sound in the very centre of the little clearing. A moment later Antonio and the other gaucho were gone, slinking away to another part of the forest.

"A good shot, and one which will help me immensely," thought Dudley. "It has cleared the way nicely, and now, with a little luck, I should be able to get through."

On hands and knees again, feverish with the desire to get through the encircling line, and yet curbing his impatience—for haste here might mean failure and death,—he slid in under the brambles, burrowed his path amidst the trees, and, inch by inch, foot by foot, gradually increased his distance from the fort he had left behind.

The minutes were like hours, the crackle of a feeble, mouldering leaf under his knee sounded to him in his overstrung condition like a rifle report, while the thud of one of the enemy's rifles against a distant tree was crushing in its intensity. It brought him to a halt, palpitating, with perspiration streaming from his forehead.

"No, not discovered! He was a funk, a coward, to be startled so easily. Was he a baby, a little child, to be frightened because a leaf crackled, or a twig fell from a neighboring tree? A fine fellow the gauchos had allowed to make this attempt!"

Dudley ground his teeth with rage. He was furious with himself for being so nervous, for showing so much fear. Time and again he called himself a coward, a craven, fit only to cook for the men and not to lead them; and then gradually he became calmer. He was a plucky lad at heart, and, if he could only have realized it, there was ample reason for all his fears.

Even a grown man would have had his nerves braced to the highest on this dark night, and why therefore should he be ashamed? His old, gallant spirit returned. He groped his way forward with more energy now, till the inches and feet had grown to yards, till the murmur of the rascals surrounding the little band of comrades near the pampas was lost in the distance. He was clear. The enemy was behind him, and now all that remained was to steal a horse and gallop away.

"I can smell them," he suddenly exclaimed, under his breath. "In a place like this, where there is little wind, and many horses are placed together, it is not by any means impossible. They are over there. I am sure of it."

Lifting his head he stood for a moment or two sniffing the air, and was at length convinced that he was not in error. For, as he had said, in an enclosed place like that, with little wind, and that blowing in his face, a keen-scented man can easily detect the neighborhood of the horse lines. Dudley delayed no longer. He was standing to his full height now, for the forest was not so thick here, and he at once set off for the spot where he imagined the horses to be. And presently a glimmer came to his eyes. Something red was shining between the trunks a hundred yards away, something which, as the distance decreased, proved to be a camp fire, with a kettle suspended over it. The flare from the crackling wood lit up the surroundings, showing the blankets of Antonio's men, tumbled haphazard upon the ground, spare boxes of ammunition, bags of food, and some dozen saddles. Steam, and a savory odor, were issuing from the kettle which sang over the flames, while away to the right the firelight showed a horse, the first of a long line picketed beyond him.

"At last," thought Dudley, his heart beating fast with joy. "There are the horses, and if I creep round to the far side, so as to be well away from the fire, I ought to have no difficulty in cutting one of the picket ropes and slipping away. By Jove! How good that stuff smells boiling in the kettle. I'm hungry and could eat a meal. But there's no time; I have the others to think about."

Skirting the edge of the forest, and just outside the range of the firelight, he came within five minutes to the line of horses. Many were asleep as if they had had a hard day, while some were cropping the grass at their feet. Dudley inspected them carefully, and, having made his choice, boldly severed the picket rope of the finest of the animals.

"A splendid beast," he said to himself, "and one which will require some catching. Now I want a second, and then, once I have led them far enough away, we'll show our heels to these rascals. To-morrow at noon I ought to be at the estancia."

CHAPTER XIX

ANTONIO SARVISTI IS SURPRISED

Dudley was safely through the close ring which the band of robbers had thrown around that small corner of the forest where his gauchos lay. He could hear the reports of their rifles well behind him now, for an occasional shot was fired so as to intimidate the besieged and keep them from moving till the dawn came, when Antonio Sarvisti promised himself and his men that a quick end would be made of the party. Yes, Dudley was through them, right in their rear, and on the outskirts of the clearing occupied by their horses.

"This fellow should carry me across to the estancia at a fast gallop," he said, as he inspected the horse he had chosen, looking critically at his legs, and helped in his examination by the few flickering rays which came from the dancing flames of the fire. "A good, strong horse, with not too much bone. The fellow to carry my weight fast and far. Now for a second, and then away. They all seem to have bridles on, so that I shall have nothing to wait for, for I don't want a saddle. Ah, this is a likely-looking animal!"

Even now, when escape seemed so certain, he would not allow his eagerness to be away, out of the clutches of the rascals, to cause him to make a hasty choice. Life and liberty, after all, might depend more on the animals he chose than on his own courage and discretion. He might be followed. The pursuit might be kept up right to the borders of Mr. Blunt's estancia; and even if that were not the case, the lives of his comrades depended entirely on the swiftness with which he could reach friends.

"This is the fellow for my second," he said with decision, passing slowly down the line till he came to a fine roan, a shapely animal, which turned its handsome head to look at the stranger, and, as if it recognized a friend in him, whinnied gently.

"Whoa! Silence, boy! Sleep, for you will not be wanted till morning."

A voice rang out in the stillness, causing Dudley to drop instantly on hands and knees and shelter behind the heels of the long line of picketed horses. A man was crossing the firelit clearing, a fellow dressed like a gaucho, but of darker color. He wore a handkerchief of brilliant color about his head, and a belt of the same material round his waist, a belt which protruded at one point, where a revolver was thrust under it.

"An Indian," thought Dudley, watching the man as he sauntered across to the horses. "Probably a slave, or a general servant, or perhaps the cook. Yes, that is what he is."

There seemed to be no doubt about that matter, for the man who had called out, and who had so unexpectedly made his appearance, sauntered to the fire and stirred the contents of the kettle with a big wooden spoon. Dudley saw him lift the spoon to his lips and taste the contents, evidently with appreciation. Then he threw a stick or two on to the fire, prodded the ashes with another, and having assured himself that all was well there, strolled across to the horses.

"Sleep, my beauties," he said, patting the one which had whinnied, and talking to him in soothing tones. "Sleep and be happy. You will be undisturbed."

He suspected nothing. The good-natured fellow, for that he seemed to be, had not the faintest idea that within a couple of yards of him, stretched at the heels of the very horse he was caressing, lay one of the party his masters were attacking. The cook had wonderfully sharp eyes, for he had been brought up on the Indian pampas, and had, indeed, lived a wild life till this Antonio persuaded him to act as cook to the band under his command. But even sharp eyes cannot penetrate inky darkness, for, where Dudley lay, the long line of picketed horses cast a dense shadow. The man patted another horse, which had turned an inquisitive head and had looked at the intruder with sleepy eyes. Then he sauntered away again and stood by the fire, till a shot in the forest caught his attention.

"At it again," he said aloud. "Perhaps that means that the end is coming, and our fellows are about to wipe the rascals out. Not that I don't think that they are plucky. They are quick, to be sure, and that trick they played would even have beaten our Indians. It was smart to dismount suddenly and take the very cover which our men had. I'll go and look on. I would not miss the end for anything."

He cast a glance at the fire, stirred the contents of his steaming kettle again, and then sauntered off into the forest in the direction from which the report of the rifle had come.

"Evidently he is the only man out of the firing line," thought Dudley, "so that I can now expect to be alone till he comes back. By then I shall be gone. Quiet, boy! It's I. Don't you remember?"

He rose to his feet noiselessly and passed between the horses. The one on his left was asleep, his head dangling till his nose was not far from the ground. But the one he had selected was wide awake, and again turned and whinnied. Dudley slipped his hand along the neck and down the chin till he came to the picketing rope. A slash from his knife severed it, and then, having already made sure that there were no heel ropes, he backed the fine animal out of the horse lines by gently pulling on his bridle.

Hush! There was someone entering the clearing again, and for the moment operations must be suspended. If it was the black cook, no doubt his curiosity would take him away again, and then would be Dudley's opportunity. But movement now was certain to be detected, and though he would have a start he still remembered that he had to pass through the forest to reach the pampas, and that once there he might find his escape cut off by gauchos posted on the plains and provided with horses. He stood still, peering between the horses, while with a gentle pull at the bridle he urged the one he held into its place again.

"Not the cook this time," he said, feeling as if all his plans would be ruined. "There are three of them, and—yes—the cook is there too. That is a piece of very bad luck; the fellows are going to sup."

Three gauchos had indeed come into the clearing, and stood in the firelight, silhouetted sharply, and with their backs turned to Dudley. The fourth figure was that of the native cook, and he at once produced some tin platters and pannikins, and provided each of the gauchos with a meal. Then he brought a stone bottle of big proportions and filled the pannikins from its contents.

The delay was exasperating, and for a time Dudley fidgeted and fretted, fearful that discovery might come at any instant, and well knowing that every minute of the remaining darkness was of the utmost importance to him. The minutes dragged painfully along, while the four robbers chatted at their ease. It seemed that they would never go. However, a fifth individual now entered, and at his coming the three gauchos promptly drank up the contents of their pannikins and disappeared. The newcomer was Antonio Sarvisti, the leader, who never took his eyes off his following if he could help it, for he was suspicious of everyone. He scowled at his gauchos now, pointed to the forest, and bade them return.

"Time you were back," he said curtly. "You have been away too long already, and seem to forget that there are comrades to be fed. Now, boy, something to eat and drink. Then a cigar, and I will see whether I cannot rouse the fellows to attack again. Food and drink do wonders. Matters brighten when a man is comfortable, and maybe we shall capture those rascals before the dawn comes. Up to the top, boy, and stand ready to refill it."

He gripped the tin pannikin, swung his head back, and gulped the contents down at a draught, holding the pannikin out to be refilled, while he gasped for breath.

"That is good," he said. "The stew smells excellent, and reminds a man that he has not had a bite for many hours. Now, get along to the men and order the next batch to come and feed."

The squat figure seated on the top of an upturned saddle seemed bigger than usual. The flickering light cast by the flames magnified the leader of the brigands, till in Dudley's eyes he seemed to be of vast dimensions. But it was not that which frightened him; it was the words which he had heard, the order which had been given, and which he had been able to understand. More men were to come to the clearing. For an hour or more the place would be tenanted, and by then the dawn would be dangerously near. He must move now. He must risk it.

"Yes, I must risk it," he repeated to himself. "And as I am sure to be followed at once I will take only one of the horses. The other would perhaps delay me, for I have to pass through the forest."

But still he watched the ruffian seated by the fire, while he slid one hand along to the bridle of the fine animal he had selected. The horse moved, turned its shapely head, and whinnied again, as if impatient to get away. As for Antonio, he was in the act of draining his pannikin, but stopped abruptly and swung round on his seat. Then, as if he were suspicious, he came running across to the horses and passed swiftly along the front of the line, examining each picket rope as he passed.

"Ah! Loose!" he exclaimed, as he found one dangling from the headstall. "And this has been cut with some sharp instrument."

There was a note of alarm in his voice now, for he stood opposite the very animal which Dudley was about to remove, and held the severed end of the picket rope towards the light. Someone was meddling with the horses, he was sure, and at once, without hesitation, he slipped between the animals as if he were already certain that the marauder, whoever he might be, lay at their heels. Nor was he disappointed. In the shadow cast by the fine beast Dudley had selected, Antonio's eyes detected a dark figure, erect and motionless. He stared at the man, called to him as if to make sure that he was not one of his: own gauchos, and then slid one hand down to his revolver. But he never drew the weapon, for our hero was too quick for him. Discovery was certain now, he knew, and in the few seconds which passed while the leader of the brigands was coming towards him he had formed his plans. He had drawn his revolver, and held it by the muzzle at arm's length. Then he saw Antonio, slip between the horses, and heard him call. It was time to act, and as it happened this rascally Italian helped the plans which Dudley had made, for he stood so that a flickering ray from the fire fell on his face. The mark was a good one, and within easy distance. In an instant the revolver swung back a foot, and then, launched with all the force of which Dudley was capable, it flew forward, struck the forehead of the rascal who had called, and knocked him senseless to the ground.

"My turn this time," said Dudley, as he ran forward to regain his weapon. "Now I fancy there is nothing to prevent my getting away. Whoa, lad! Stand there a moment while I fetch your comrade. Ah! here's a bolas rope which will make you fast to a tree."

He had hit upon a coil of rope attached to the blanket strap which the horse wore, and in a twinkling had secured the animal to a tree close by. Then he ran off for the second, which he found standing drowsily where he had left it, and unmindful of the fact that its picket rope was gone. It was a fine, big beast, and Dudley decided to ride it at first in preference to the other.

"He is strong and will carry me fast. The other fellow is a stayer," he thought, "and if he has no weight to carry till I want him will take me away from anything the enemy possess. Now to mount and slip out of the forest."

He placed the animals side by side, and made ready to mount, no easy matter when a horse is big and has no saddle. He stepped back a pace so as to obtain a run, and in doing so kicked an object lying on the ground. It was Antonio Sarvisti, alive and breathing without a doubt, but stunned and unconscious. Dudley had almost forgotten his existence, once his lucky shot had disposed of his interference. But now, as he accidentally came upon him again, a sudden thought caused him to delay his departure.

"Supposing he comes to and gives the alarm," he said. "That would be bad in every way, for even if they did not catch me, they would know that someone had ridden for help, and might decamp before the gauchos could surround them. Now, if I can get rid of this ugly fellow, his own men will hardly miss him for an hour or two, for who is to say that he is not in the forest? Then there is just a chance, a small one it is true, that the men from our estancia might be able to reach this place in time. His following will be uncertain how to act. That means delay, and with a little luck on our side—yes, I'll take him."

Once his mind was made up he did not hesitate. In a twinkling he had disarmed the unconscious man, and then, working as swiftly as possible, he bound his hands tightly together. Now came the most difficult portion of the task. He bent over Antonio, gripped him beneath the arms, and lifted him.

"Hurrah! Not nearly so heavy as I thought he would be," he said. "Up you go, and there you stay till we reach the estancia!"

With a heave he pushed the form of the Italian on to one of the horses, placing his legs astride the beast. Then the rope came into service again. The feet were secured together, and a length of the rope passed round horse and man, so as to keep Antonio from slipping.

"If I go slowly and carefully I think he will stay in the position in which I have placed him," said Dudley, looking critically at his work, for where he and the horses stood an occasional flicker of firelight reached, just sufficient to help him. "Now to get out of the forest, and by then I hope this ugly fellow will have recovered from the blow my revolver gave him. It was a nasty one, and has cut his forehead badly. However, he is merely stunned, and when he comes to I shall have to frighten him. Up we go!"

He was in the very best of spirits, for during the last quarter of an hour fortune had favored him in such a remarkable manner that it seemed to him that even the future was brightened and looked more promising. But still he did not forget that the enemy were close at hand, and that every minute might see the Indian cook and another batch of men come to the fireside for a meal. He scrambled on to the back of the spare horse, taking a little run before he sprang, for he had selected a big animal. Then, having gathered up the reins, and taken those of the other horse in his hands, he sat quietly listening. Now and again he heard a call from the forest, and on two occasions a sharp report rang out, to which, almost instantly, there came an answering shot from the farthest edge of the forest, evidently sent from the little fort which he had so lately left.

"Good! The boys are well and safe. Now for the last part of the adventure."

He shortened the reins, dug his heels into the horse he bestrode, and guided the animals into a narrow track which passed in between the trees. In a moment he had passed out of the firelight, beyond the circle of the clearing in which the enemy's camp lay, and was surrounded by the forest. The darkness became intense again, though here and there he caught sight of a flickering patch of light where the rays of the moon penetrated through some gap in the leaves overhead. As he looked at them his mind returned to that other patch in which he had so suddenly discovered one of the gaucho enemy, and to which Antonio and his lieutenant had been called. He remembered how breathlessly he had watched them, with what feelings of relief he had realized that they had no suspicion of his presence. How they had discussed the matter, and how, with tragical suddenness, a shot had rung out from the trenches behind, bringing the sulky lieutenant to the ground.

"Ah, a bigger patch!" he suddenly exclaimed, his eyes falling upon a long streak. "That looks as if there were a track of some sort, and if so it will suit me well. After all, if this ruffian has used the forest as cover for his white and Indian raiders, there must be tracks here and there, as well as clearings in which the stolen cattle are herded. I'll try this one, and see where it leads me."

He guided the horses into the patch he had observed, and was delighted to find that he had gained a narrow patch, almost overgrown here and there by the brambles and underwood, which were swift to invade every open space. It led away to the right, parallel with the edge of the forest, and would therefore take him at every step farther from the enemy. But swift progress was impossible. It was necessary to be careful, for any unusual noise would certainly bring the gang of robbers about him. Restraining his impatience, therefore, he walked his horses on for a mile, when the track became even narrower. Then suddenly it emerged into a tiny clearing, into which the rays of the moon streamed brightly, showing two other tracks, one leading to the right and the other turning off abruptly to the left.

"The first returns to Antonio's house, no doubt," said Dudley, halting to look at them. "The other is the one for me. It leads to the pampas. In half an hour I shall be there. Ah, you are coming round, I think! Well, I must hurry, for just here a shout from you would be dangerous, while out on the pampas you can call till you are tired."

A deep sigh, a long, indrawn breath, had come from the prostrate figure secured to the second horse, and Antonio's ugly head turned just a trifle. But the man did not regain consciousness. His breathing was still shallow and hardly perceptible, while beneath the ghostly rays of the moon his face looked deathly pale against the black beard which clothed it. Dudley stared at the man with the utmost aversion. He had disliked him before, when for the space of a few hours he was his guest. There was even then something indefinable about the ruffian which had repelled him. And now that something was even more pronounced. If ever there were a villain, it was this Antonio; and again and again did our hero thank his good fortune that he had the man secure and disarmed. However, it was neither the time nor the place for soliloquizing, and promptly he kicked his mount with his heels, and set off down the track he had selected at a gentle amble, which soon brought him to the confines of the forest, where he could look out at the pampas, the smooth, grass-grown plain shimmering in the white moonlight and seeming almost to welcome him. He could hear the whisper of the long grass as the wind swept across it, while the rustle and shake of the leaves overhead seemed to mingle harmoniously with the sound. But though he strained his ears, there was nothing else to be heard, not a call, not even one of those sharp reports which had echoed through the forest at frequent intervals.

"And no one in sight," he said, his spirits rising higher as the seconds flew. "I must be a couple of miles to the right of our men, and, I think, well clear of the enemy. Here goes for a smart canter."

He halted a few moments longer to make sure that his prisoner was secure in the position he had placed him in, and then, so that there should be no doubt as to his remaining there, he pulled the led horse in still closer, till its flank was jammed against his knee, and his free hand gripped Antonio's shoulder.

"I'll warrant he will not slip now," he said, "and when he comes to he'll be so close that I shall be able to deal with him. Come along, boys! We've a fine gallop before us."

He shook his reins and touched his mount with his heels. The two fine horses set off at a trot on to the pampas, and then at a call from Dudley broke into a canter, which soon became a gallop, not one of those headlong rushes which fire the blood of men and horses too, but a strong, fast gallop, which a pampas horse can keep up for many a mile, and which demands little if any exertion from the rider. In this way five miles were rapidly covered, Dudley keeping his horses well in hand, while he gripped Antonio firmly and held him in the position in which he had placed him. But a groan came from the unconscious man now, and within a minute there was a movement of the shoulder which Dudley was gripping. Pulling firmly on his reins, he slowly brought the animals to a standstill and turned to look at his prisoner. Antonio was conscious once more. As Dudley stared at him the ruffian's wicked little eyes scintillated under the moon's rays. The brows were puckered and drawn down, while the whole expression of his face denoted wonder, dawning consciousness, and increasing knowledge of his position. His teeth grated together, his breath came a little faster, and then, as Dudley released his hold, the prisoner sat up suddenly, opened his mouth, and shouted with all the vigor of his lungs:

"Help, help! To the rescue!"

He struggled to free himself from the rope which secured him to the horse, and tugged at the lashings which secured his hands. He was desperate. Consciousness had returned fully to Antonio, and with it had come all his old ferocity. If it were not for his bonds he would tear this rascal to pieces; he would shoot him again and again, he would——

Suddenly he realized the futility of struggling. In a flash he guessed that nothing but a knife could sever the lashings which held him. But he still had his voice, and once more he bellowed aloud. Then he looked again at his captor, and, noting the smile on his lips, ground his teeth with rage.

"If you are ready, we will ride on," said Dudley slowly. "And as we are to be companions, it will be as well to understand each other. Now, if I were you, and our positions were reversed, I have little doubt that you would shoot me. In fact, if I had shot you just now when you shouted, I should have been perfectly justified. But, you see, there is no one to hear on the pampas. We are alone, amigo, and you are now miles from your friends. When you are ready we will gallop on again, but I warn you any attempt on your part to break away will be met by a bullet. You understand? I know the class of man I have captured. I mean to keep you safely till I can hand you over to our men, and then——"

Even to a ruffian like this he did not like to be harsh, and stopped in the middle of his sentence. For Dudley knew, as well as the ruffian beside him, that capture meant one thing alone. On the pampas a horse thief met with scanty mercy, while a robber had but short shrift. Antonio Sarvisti was certain to be hanged at the first opportunity, and it was more than likely that he would then be riddled with bullets, that being the summary justice of the pampas.

It was Antonio's turn to grin and smile. His lips curled back from his fine white teeth, and he glared away at the oncoming horsemen and then at his captor with such a malevolent expression that Dudley shivered. He was caught. The tables had been suddenly turned, it seemed, and already flight was almost out of the question. Still, while there was life there was hope, and at once, gathering up the reins again, he set the horses in motion, and, swinging them round, set off at a rapid gallop, determined to escape himself if it were possible, and to carry his prisoner with him.

CHAPTER XX

BROUGHT TO BOOK

"Hallo! Hallo! Stop there! Dudley! Harold!"

It was no ordinary man who sent those words rolling over the moonlit pampas, but a giant, possessed of lungs as powerful as a blacksmith's bellows. There could be no mistaking the voice, and in a second Dudley was pulling frantically at his reins, shouting back with his head turned as much as possible, while hope, the certainty of succor and of safety, sent the blood rushing through his veins. His spirits went up with a jump. In an instant what had seemed a desperate position was entirely changed. Mr. Blunt was there, riding swiftly after him, for no one else on the pampas possessed such a voice.

"Halt! If you are a friend, halt at once; if an enemy, halt all the sooner."

As if to impress the fugitive, a sharp crack resounded some way behind, and a pistol bullet whizzed high overhead.

"Whoa! Pull up, boys! Steady! There, stand like that, or you will shake the life out of our friend here. Ahoy! Mr. Blunt! It's Dudley!"

Sitting as high as was possible in the absence of a saddle and stirrups, Dudley waved one free hand deliriously in the air and shouted at the pitch of his voice. He was frantic with excitement. A huge weight of trouble seemed to have fallen from his young shoulders in the space of a few seconds, for he knew that he himself was secure now, and, more than that, that his comrades lying in their trenches in the forest were also secure. But how was it that these horsemen had so suddenly appeared, for Mr. Blunt's estancia was many miles away? What had brought them out across the pampas, and in the dead of night? Dudley shouted again, and then, turning his horses, rode back towards the newcomers, his free hand now gripping his prisoner's shoulder. For Antonio had collapsed. His brain, still somewhat muddled by the crushing blow which Dudley's pistol had given him, had nevertheless rapidly discovered the real condition of affairs. Hardly a minute before, a sardonic grin, the grin of a man who has triumphed, had made a naturally repulsive face perfectly hideous. He had even gone to the length of taunting his captor. But now, when he realized that his hopes were gone, that he was more than ever a prisoner, and that there could be but one end, this cold-blooded rascal, who had infested the pampas, who had caused ruin to many estancia owners, and who had never forgotten some stupid grudge which he owed Mr. Blunt, collapsed and became unconscious again. He fell forward on to the horse's neck and lay there, with his head dangling towards the ground. However, before Mr. Blunt and the gauchos had ridden up, the prisoner was conscious again and sitting up. But his was not the pose of a man in the best of spirits. The rascal's courage was gone at last. He sat his mount as if some huge weight were crushing his shoulders, and his cruel and twinkling eyes looked furtively at his captor and then at the figure of the foremost of the newcomers.

"Thank God, it's Dudley! What has happened, lad? Who is this fellow?"

In his own impulsive manner the owner of the neighboring estancia galloped up to our hero, reined in his horse with iron fingers, and then stretched out a big hand to grip that of his young manager. And there the two sat, unable to speak for a few seconds, while the gauchos, with Pietro at their head, surrounded the little party, uttering cries of astonishment, and looking wonderingly at the Englishman who was in their midst and at the bearded repulsive stranger lashed to the horse beside him.

"Who is this fellow?" demanded Mr. Blunt sternly, releasing Dudley's hand and riding closer so as to inspect the prisoner. "We heard shots. The men at our outpost corral reported that firing was to be heard somewhere in this direction, and, happening to be spending the night with them, I brought a strong party out on to the pampas. The firing got louder as we rode, and we were sure it came from the forest, from the direction of the estancia which you and your men were to visit. We were suspicious, and were wondering whether we should advance at once or send back for more men, when we heard a shout. Then—why, great powers, I know this fellow!"

Antonio had kept his head averted all this while, but a sudden movement, a half-turn of the horse to which he was lashed, had swung him round, and in a moment Mr. Blunt was staring into a dark, forbidding face, clothed with a matted beard, and displaying at that second a variety of expressions, fear and hate mingled strangely together. Antonio Sarvisti had known from the very first who the newcomer was. The voice was sufficient, and how he hated that! Then there was the huge figure, the commanding presence of the burly Englishman, with his direct way of speaking, his open-hearted manner, all of which reminded this rascal of past days, of a man whom he had disliked from the first, and against whom, for some foolish, fancied cause, he had sworn to be revenged. Men of his stamp and country were not the ones to reason such matters out. Blind unreasoning hate had kept him to his purpose, and he had persevered, always to be met by failure.

"So this ruffian is your prisoner?" said Mr. Blunt, recovering from his astonishment. "Tell me all about his capture. What has happened?"

He sat stockstill on his horse while Dudley recounted how he and his party had visited the estancia of Antonio last of all, how their suspicions had been aroused, and how, while returning to look further into the matter, they had been caught in an ambush. Then he related his own escape, his meeting with the leader of the band of robbers, and his final ride for freedom.

"Then I understand that at the present moment there are some fifty-five brigands lying in the forest ready to attack our men," said Mr. Blunt quietly, as if he were reviewing the whole position. "They probably know nothing of the capture you have made, and are simply waiting for the dawn. It will be here in an hour, perhaps, though it will still be dark in the forest. I have thirty men here."

"Thirty-four, señor," corrected Pietro.

"Thirty-four, then, of whom two will be required to take charge of this rascal. The others are at your service, Dudley. How do you propose to make use of them?"

He was going to place the whole affair in his manager's hands. Mr. Blunt was not the man to interfere where interference was unnecessary, and now he determined that Dudley should see the matter through, and, having done so much, should extricate the little party which he had commanded.

"Time is short," he said curtly. "We had better be moving. What plan do you suggest?"

"There is one, and one only," was the answer. "Divide the men. Send twenty along the face of the forest till opposite our party, with instructions to move the flanks forward and so enclose the robbers. I will lead the others by the path I followed, and we will seize the horses. Then we shall have them completely, for with men outside them, and our fellows in the middle of their circle, they will be unable to move. They will be between two fires. Warn the men here to be careful when they shoot, for they might hit their comrades. Will that do?"

"Take charge of this ruffian," commanded Mr. Blunt, swinging round to the men. "You all wish to come with us, I know, but this duty must be seen to. Select two of your number, and let us be going. Now, my friends, I want ten men who will follow our young manager."

Like lightning the tale which Dudley had narrated had flown round the circle of gauchos, and had been interpreted to those who could not understand English. Their grinning faces showed their pleasure, and now, at Mr. Blunt's words, they hung back sheepishly at first, fearful in the case of every man that he would be selected to guard the prisoner; while, as the call came for ten to follow Dudley, some thirty-four pair of heels drove as many spurs into the horses, causing them to bound forward in a mass.

Mr. Blunt laughed. "That is the result of popularity," he said, smiling at Dudley. "Some obtain fame in one way, some in another. It would appear that my manager has a reputation as a leader and a fighter. Come, lads? ten only are required. I did not ask for thirty-four."

He took Dudley by the sleeve, and together they rode away from the men, who quickly settled the question. Five minutes later the two parties were crossing the pampas at a gallop, while in rear of them stood three solitary horsemen, one bound to his mount, crest-fallen and desperate, while the other two, tall, well-set-up gauchos, gazed after their comrades with envious eyes, and then turned to scowl at their prisoner.

"To think," growled one of them, "that you and I are left behind because of this hound. Tales have been spreading, and, if they are true, it is this fellow who has sent the Indians to us so often, and who has had our master attacked down in the settlements. And now he keeps us here, swinging our heels, when we should have been with our comrades paying off the scores we owe to these robbers."

His comrade nodded with energy. He quite agreed that this last offence was an enormity, and scowled at Antonio in no very friendly manner.

"Pampas law for him," he said, rolling a cigarette. "There's a tree down by the corral which will bear his weight. To-morrow, perhaps, he will be dangling."

The sky was getting brighter away to the east as Dudley led his little following into the forest. They had ridden with their comrades till the dark line of the trees came into sight, and then, having halted to point out to his employer the precise position of the robbers and the gallant band they surrounded, a position which he remembered because of a patch of trees higher than the others, they had galloped on rapidly so as to reach the horses before the others were discovered. They threaded the narrow track which Dudley had followed, found the clearing into which three of these paths opened, and finally rode slowly along that which led to the clearing in which the fire burned, and where doubtless some of the robbers were even then having a meal.

"Halt!" A whispered word from Dudley brought his small force to a standstill, for the flickering rays of a fire had penetrated to the path along which they were riding. "Wait," said the young leader. "I will go forward and reconnoitre."

Slipping from his mount he ran along, bent almost double, and very soon was on the very edge of the clearing. The fire still burned there as brightly as ever, and seated near it, on upturned saddles or on the ground, were four of the enemy, while the jovial features of the Indian cook were clearly seen, for he stood over the fire stirring his kettle, from which he had just filled the pannikins of the men. Evidently the loss of two horses and of their leader had not been discovered, and everything promised well for Dudley and his party. He slipped back to them, and in a twinkling they were moving forward.

"Four take charge of the horse lines, while the rest cover the enemy with their rifles," he said. "Trot! We must get along."

Following one another in Indian file, for the path was too narrow for two to ride abreast, the little cavalcade were not long in reaching the clearing. They burst into the open space, spread out so as to surround the enemy there, and before the latter had recovered from their astonishment had them covered with their rifles. It was comical to see the look of dismay which overspread the once jovial face of the Indian cook. He seemed paralyzed with terror, and stood precisely in the same spot where Dudley had seen him, his mouth agape, his eyes bulging from their sockets, while he mechanically continued to stir the contents of his steaming kettle.

"Hands up!" cried Dudley. "You are surrounded, and if one of you attempts to lift his rifle, that man will be shot."

Whether or not the men understood what he said, they at least gathered his meaning from his gestures, and more even from the sight of the rifles which covered them. They had already dropped their pannikins, and now they huddled themselves together near the cook, their hands held up above their heads.

"Let two men dismount and take their pistols and knives from them," commanded Dudley. Then, when that task had been accomplished, he placed a couple of his men on guard over the prisoners, all of whom were secured with the long leather thong of a bolas.

"Now for the others," he said. "We will spread out here on the edge of the clearing facing their comrades, and will wait for the dawn. If any come our way, let them pass in and then cover them with your weapons. If possible let us take them without a shot, and without so much as a sound."

Fortune was favoring Mr. Blunt and his honest gauchos on this occasion, for it happened that during Dudley's absence all the men of Antonio's following had had a meal, save those who now lay captives, and who had been taken in the midst of their repast. None came from the forest to the clearing. In addition, beyond a loud call every now and again, not a sound was heard from the depths of the forest, even Harold and his men were husbanding their ammunition till the dawn came, for the brave lad had no idea that Dudley had returned already. At the earliest he could not expect help before the following night, and for that reason he saved every cartridge, while, on the advice of Pepito, he allowed one-half of his force to sleep, waking them when an hour had gone so as to rest the remainder. But the dawn was coming. Even to the men hidden in the forest an occasional glimpse was possible of the reddening sky, while the light, growing imperceptibly greater, seemed to steal down past the leaves and along the tree trunks till it reached the roots. It was dawn. Men could see the faces of their comrades, and Harold was able to tell the exact position of each one of his following, and for the first time could distinguish the outline of the quaint fort which Dudley had suggested before his departure. A little extra banking here and there at the edges, a little more taken out of portions of the trenches, and the place would be perfect. The men were all awake now, lying with their weapons ready and cartridges at hand. He was about to give an order to improve the fort when a single rifle shot rang out far back in the forest, to be answered within a minute by a report from the pampas. Then came a loud hail from the latter position.

"Harold! Harold!" came in Mr. Blunt's stentorian tones. "Harold, ahoy!"

"Friends, señor," exclaimed Pepito, dragging himself slowly to his leader's side, for the poor fellow's wound was painful. "There is help close at hand. Warn the men to be careful of their shooting. But listen!"

Once more the strong voice was heard.