Gaspar the Gaucho: A Story of the Gran Chaco

Ludwig and Cypriano have it on their tongues to inquire what he means. But before either can say a word, he is off and away in a rush toward the scaffold-post to which Shebotha is tied.

Reaching it, he is seen with arms outstretched and in rapid play, as though he were setting her free. Far from that, however, is his intention. He but undoes the knot around her neck, and raising the poncho, clutches at something which encircles her throat. He had noticed this something while throttling her when first caught; it had rattled between his fingers as the beads of a rosary, and he knew it to be such, with a slight difference – the beads being human teeth! A remembrance, moreover, admonishes him that this ghastly necklace was worn by the sorceress, not for adornment, but to inspire dread. It is, in fact, one of her weapons of weird mystery and power, and an idea has occurred to him that it may now be used as an instrument against herself.

Having detached it from her neck, and replaced the poncho upon her head, he returns to where he had left the others, and holding out the string of teeth, says to Nacena —

“Take this. Present it to the crazy paleface; tell him Shebotha sent it as a token authorising you to act for her; and, if he be not altogether out of his wits, I warrant it’ll get you admission to the presence of the paleface. For anything beyond, you will best know how to act of yourself.”

The girl grasps the hideous symbol, a gleam of intelligence lighting up her swarth but beautiful face. For she, too, anticipates the effect it will have on Shebotha’s slave, from actual knowledge – not by guessing, as with Gaspar.

Knowing herself now at liberty and free to depart, without saying another word, she turns her back upon them; and gliding away with the agile, stealthy step peculiar to her race, soon passes beyond their sight.

They stand looking after her, till her dark figure disappears amid the shadows of the scaffolds. But they have no doubt of her fidelity – no fear that she will fail to do what she can for the fulfilment of her promise. The keeping it is secured by her own interested motives: for the passion impelling her to act on their behalf, though purely selfish, can be trusted as truth itself.

Chapter Fifty Three.

A Deluded Jailer

Midnight’s hour is past, the moon has gone down, and in the Indian town there is darkness and silence. Every one is asleep, or seems to be; since no light shines either in toldo or tent, neither can a human figure be seen in the streets, or anywhere around.

At some distance from the houses, however, among thickly-standing trees, and close into the base of the hill, is the quaint dwelling-place of Shebotha – half cave, half hut – and inside this flickers a faint light, from a dip candle of crude beeswax, with a wick of the fibre of the pita plant. By its red flame, mingled with much smoke, a collection of curious objects is dimly discernible; not articles of furniture, for these are few, but things appertaining to the craft in which Shebotha is supposed to have skill – demonology. There are the bones and skins of monkeys, with those of snakes, lizards, and other reptiles; teeth of the alligator and jaguar; the proboscis-like snouts of the tapir and tamanoir, or great ant-bear, with a variety of other like oddities, furnished by the indigenous creatures of the Chaco in every department of the zoological world – birds, quadrupeds, insects, reptiles, and fishes.

This motley conglomeration is for the most part arranged against the inner wall of the hut, and opposite the entrance, so as to be observable by any one looking in at the door, or even passing by it. For its purpose is to impress the superstitious victims of Shebotha’s craft with a belief in her witching ways. And to give this a more terrifying and supernatural character, a human skull, representing a death’s head, with a pair of tibia for crossbones underneath, is fixed centrally and prominently against the wall.

The same light that so faintly illuminates this paraphernalia of repulsive objects, also shines upon one that is pleasing – this the figure of a young girl, with a face wonderfully fair. For she is Francesca Halberger.

At the hour spoken of she is the sole occupant of the hut; its owner, Shebotha, being abroad. For it is the self-same hour and instant when the sorceress has the rosary of teeth snatched so rudely from her neck. She is seated on the edge of a catré, or cane bedstead, of the pallet kind, her head buried in her hands, through the white fingers of which her long golden tresses fall in rich profusion, scattered over and mingling with the fur of the great pampas wolf which serves as a sort of mattress for the bed.

The candle has burnt down into the socket of its rude stick, but at intervals flares up, with a crackling, sputtering noise; as it it does so, showing upon her features that same sad look as when she was being carried hither, a captive; only that her face is now paler, and the expression upon it telling of a despair deeper and more settled. She has slept but little from the day of her entrance under Shebotha’s roof, and no great deal since she last lay on her own bed at home. What sleep she now gets is only in short snatches; when tired nature can no longer continue the struggle with thoughts all the while torturing her. No wonder at sweet slumber being thus long denied her, with such memories to keep her awake! In fancy, ever before her seems the face of her father with that look of agony she last saw upon it, as he lay upon the ground, weltering in his gore. And in fancy also, she beholds the ruffian, Valdez, standing above the prostrate form, waving over it his blood-stained spear, a very demon exultant!

But her painful thoughts are not all of the past. She has doubts and fears also for the future, dark as she reflects on her own situation, and what will be done to her; but still darker when she thinks of those left behind and far away. What will become of her dear mother and brother? What of him – dear, ah! perhaps dearer than either – her handsome cousin? For Cypriano’s affection for her is fully reciprocated.

Not strange then the sadness overspreading her features, nor the weight of woe in her heart; as she dwells on the fate that may be his and theirs. For she knows they are all in danger – great and certain danger; has known it ever since seeing Valdez, the vaqueano, consorting with the Tovas Indians, and on friendly terms with their chief. Oft had she asked herself the question whither he went afterwards! Did he return to Paraguay, or go direct to the estancia, there to complete his diabolical work – begun by murder, to end in the same with other crimes? In any case he would not likely leave them unharmed, as the captive girl too truly apprehends.

With such terrible thoughts to agitate her breast, no wonder she should be awake while everyone around seems slumbering. But on this night, and at this hour, something besides hinders her from seeking repose; that being the absence of Shebotha, which, for certain reasons, makes her more than ordinarily apprehensive. In truth, she is greatly alarmed by it. Never before has the sorceress been out of her toldo to stay for any continued time; above all, never during the hours of night. Why should she be absent now, and so long?

While asking herself these questions, the captive has not the slightest intention to take advantage of Shebotha’s absence, and make trial to escape. Well knows she that would be idle, and she could not get away if she tried. For though the owner of the hut is off watch, there is one on it – a man sitting, or squatted, just outside the door. No red man, but one with a white skin; himself a prisoner, and who possibly once, as she, felt distressed by his captivity. It may have been this very feeling which has made him what he now is – a witless idiot, resigned to his fate. In any case, he seems to be contented as Shebotha’s slave; and, perhaps ignorant of there being any better, serves her with a fidelity worthy of a better mistress. No watch-dog at that toldo’s door were more to be trusted than he.

She inside has no intention, nor ever had, of tempting him to be untrue to his trust. Even could he be induced to let her pass out, what purpose would it serve? She could not make her way home; and he is not the sort of man to see her safe through more than two hundred miles of wilderness. The idea is too hopeless to be entertained, and she does not for an instant entertain it.

The thoughts that now occupy her mind are not of how she may escape from her captivity, but dwelling upon a theme altogether different. She is thinking who will be the next one to darken the door of the hut; fearing it may be neither Shebotha herself, nor yet her slave, but the man who is master of both – Aguara!

True, the young cacique has not as yet offered her either outrage or insult; instead still approaches her with courtesy, and a pretence of friendship. For all, something – it may be instinct – admonishes her that he is acting under a mask, which he may at any moment cast aside, revealing the monster, as she believes him to be. And with sufficient reason, recalling that tragedy which deprived her of a father; and sure, despite all his protestations, that Aguara played a willing part in it.

While thus apprehensively reflecting, she hears footsteps, as of some one approaching the place. The sound causes her to start to her feet, and stand listening, with a heightened expression of fear upon her face. For, although the footfall is distant, and only distinguishable as such by the rustle it makes among the dead leaves, she can tell it is not that of Shebotha, with whose halting gait and shuffling step her ear has grown familiar. Whose, then? Who would be coming to the hut at that time of night – now morning – save Shebotha herself? None but she, and those of her belonging, dare do so either by night or by day? For the toldo of the sorceress is a sort of sanctuary, tabooed to the people of the tribe, and no one may enter or approach its sacred precincts, without having her permission, or being bidden by her. Yes; one may, and can – Aguara.

Still darker shows the fear upon the face of the captive girl, as she thinks of this special privilege accorded to the cacique, of which she has been made aware. It must be he who is drawing near, and with him a danger she has long vaguely apprehended.

For some seconds she remains intently listening, her young heart pulsing audibly within her breast. It beats easier as the footfall draws nigher, and she can tell it is not that of a man. The tread is too light and elastic. It cannot be Aguara who approaches.

She is still surer of its not being he, as the footsteps, having come close up to the hut, cease to be heard, and in their place a different sound enters through the open door – a feminine voice speaking in soft, dulcet tones.

The speech is not addressed to the captive herself, but to him who watches outside. After an interchange of ordinary salutation, and an inquiry by the watcher as to what is wanted – this evidently in tone of surprise – the soft voice responds, “I want to speak with the little pale free.”

“You cannot. Shebotha forbids it. No one may enter here without her permission.”

“But I have more than her permission – her commands. She has sent me with a message to the paleface. At this moment Mam Shebotha has a matter elsewhere, and could not come herself.”

“You may be speaking the truth, but how am I to know?” questions the man, as he regards the intruder with an incredulous stare. “I don’t go so far as to say you are telling a lie. All I say is, that the thing isn’t at all likely. Mam Shebotha’s not the sort to trust her affairs to such a chiquitita as you.”

“You know me, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes; you are Kaolin’s sister – her they call the belle of the tribe; your name’s Nacena.”

“It is so; and surely you’ll believe me? The sister of Kaolin would not speak false. You cannot suppose I am deceiving you?”

“Ah!” he rejoins, with his words heaving a sigh, “it is often those who are most beautiful who most deceive.”

Possibly the memory of some such deception, an experience of times long past, has been awakened within him. It embitters his speech as he continues —

“I can’t – I won’t believe you – though you are Kaolin’s sister, and ever so fair to look upon.”

“But you will, when you look upon this.”

She draws out the string of teeth snatched from the neck of the sorceress, and holds it up to his eyes, adding —

“That I bring from Shebotha herself. She gave it me to show you as a sign that I have her permission to speak with the paleface – nay, her command, as I’ve said. Now!”

At sight of the hideous symbol, which he instantly recognises, his incredulity is at an end. For he knows how jealously the sorceress guards this token, and that no one could have obtained it from her without some special purpose, or to do a service to herself. What it may be he questions not, nor longer forbids entrance to the hut, but nods towards the door, as much as to say —

“You can go in.”

Chapter Fifty Four.

An Unlooked-for Deliverer

Though the dialogue between Nacena and Shebotha’s slave was in the Tovas tongue, she who has overheard them inside the hut has sufficient acquaintance with it to make out that the Indian girl is seeking an interview with herself. But for what purpose, she has not the most distant idea, and cannot conceive why it should specially be sought at that strange hour, when everybody else is abed. She knows Nacena by name, as by sight; having on many occasions seen her at the old tolderia. But the two have never had acquaintance, nor held conversation; the sister of Kaolin always seeming shy with her, and never visiting the estancia, as did the other girls of the tribe. More than this, she remembers that whenever of late she by chance met the savage maiden, she had observed a scowl upon the latter’s face, which she could not help fancying was meant for herself. Nor had her fancy been astray; since in reality for her was that black look. Though for what reason Francesca could not tell, having never that she could think of done aught that should give offence to Kaolin’s sister. Besides, was not Kaolin himself the bosom friend of her brother Ludwig? Still, recalling that scowl so often seen upon Nacena’s countenance – with a suspicion, purely intuitive, of what may have caused it – not strange she should deem the visit of the Indian girl boding no good to her, but instead something of ill.

As the latter steps inside the toldo, however, and the light falls upon her face, the captive can there see no sign of malice, nor token of hostility. Instead, it is lit up by a smile which seems rather to speak of friendship and protection. And, in truth, such are among the sentiments now moving the Indian girl to action. At the prospect of being for ever rid of a rival she sees so helpless, the feeling of jealousy has passed away out of her heart, as its frown from her face, and she approaches the captive with the air of one who has both the wish and the power to give liberty. She is the first to speak, asking abruptly —

“Do you wish to be free?”

“Why do you ask that?” is the interrogative rejoinder, in a tone distrustful. For that smile may be but to deceive.

“Because Nacena has it in her power to give you freedom if you desire it.”

“Desire it!” exclaims the captive. “Nacena is but mocking me,” she adds, involuntarily falling into the figurative mode of speech peculiar to the American Indian. “Indeed, I do desire it. But how could Nacena set me at liberty?”

“By taking the paleface to her people.”

“They are far away – hundreds of miles. Would Nacena herself take me to them?”

“No. That is not needed. The paleface is mistaken. Her friends are not far away, but near. They wait for her to come out to them.”

The captive gives a start of surprise, the light of hope and joy, long absent from her eyes, rekindling in them, as another light breaks upon her.

“Of whom does Nacena speak?”

“Of your brother the fair-haired youth, your cousin the dark Paraguayan, and the gaucho who has guided them hither. All three are close to the tolderia, on the other side of the hill – as I’ve said, expecting you. Nacena has spoken with them, and promised she will conduct you to where they are. White sister!” she adds, in a tone of unmistakeable sincerity, at the same time drawing closer to the captive, and tenderly taking her by the hand, “do not show distrust, but let Nacena keep her word. She will restore you to your friends, your brother; ah! to one who waits for you with anxiety keener than all!”

At the last words the captive bends upon her would-be deliverer a bewildered, wondering look. Is it possible Nacena has knowledge of her tenderest secret? It must be so; but how can she have learnt it? Surely Cypriano – whom she says she has seen outside and spoken with – surely, he could not have revealed it; would not! Francesca forgets that the Indian girl was for years a near neighbour to her father’s estancia; and though never visiting there, with the keen intuition of her race was like enough to have learnt, that the relationship between her cousin and herself had something in it beyond mere cousinly affection.

While she is still cogitating as to how Nacena could have come to this knowledge, and wondering the while, the latter bleaks in upon her wonderment, and once more urges her to flight, again speaking of him who is near and dear, so anxiously expecting her.

It needs not such pressing appeal. For the captive girl, her surprise once past, is but too willing to embrace the opportunity so unexpectedly offered, and by one so unlikely to offer it. Therefore, without further hesitation, she signifies acceptance, saying, “I will trust you, Nacena. You have called me your white sister, and I believe you sincere. You would not speak so if you meant me harm. Take me where you will; I am ready to go with you.”

Saying which, she holds out her hand, as if offering to be led.

The Indian girl taking it, turns her face for the door, and is about to step towards it, when she remembers the watcher without; and obstruction she had for the time forgotten. Will he bar their exit? A cloud comes over her brow, as she asks herself the question; for, mentally answering it, she thinks he most probably will.

The other observing her hesitation, and quite comprehending it, makes no inquiry about the cause. That is already declared in the dialogue lately overheard by her; and as he outside is likely to be listening, the two now take counsel together, speaking in whispers.

Nacena, from a better knowledge of the situation, is of course the chief adviser, and it ends in her determining to show a bold front, and pass out as if already armed with Shebotha’s permission. If interrupted, they can then make a rush for it. In short, after a hurried consultation, they can think of no other way, much less a better one. For by the shuffling of footsteps, and a wheezing noise – Shebotha’s slave being afflicted with asthma – they can tell that he is close by the entrance.

Soon as resolved how to act, the Indian girl, still holding the captive by the hand, leads her on to the door; and, passing over the threshold side by side, they present themselves to the sentry, Nacena saying:

“In going in I forgot to tell you my errand from Mam Shebotha. She bade me bring the paleface to where she is herself. You see, I am taking her.”

“You cannot take her out of the toldo,” rejoins the man in a tone of dogged denial. “You must not; Shebotha would kill me if I permitted it.”

“But I have Shebotha’s command to do so.”

“How am I to know that?”

“You forget what I have said, and what I’ve given you.”

She points to the strange rosary, which he had taken from her, and still retains – possibly as a voucher against any mistake that may arise.

“No, I don’t,” he rejoins, holding the string up before her eyes, and shaking it till the teeth rattle. “There it is; but withal, I can’t allow her, the paleface, to go with you. It might be as much as my life is worth.”

“But what is your life worth without liberty?”

It is not Nacena who puts this question, but the paleface herself; speaking to him in her native tongue, as his. He gives a sudden start on hearing it, and regards the young girl with a stare of astonishment, rubbing his eyes as though just awakened from a long-continued sleep.

“Ah – eh!” he exclaims, excitedly. “What’s that? Liberty, did you say? Liberty? Mine’s gone long ago. I’m but a poor slave – Shebotha’s slave. I can never be free again; no, never!”

“You may be free now – this very moment – if you wish it.”

“If I wish it! Ha, ha, ha! That’s a good joke! If I wish it! Only show me the way, and let Mam Shebotha go to – ”

“Never mind Mam Shebotha. Listen to me, who am of the same race and people as yourself. There are some of them now near, who have come to take me home to my friends. You must have friends too, whom you left long ago. Why should you not go back to them?”

“Carramba!” he cries out, as if the sound of his native tongue had brought back to remembrance one of its most common exclamations, and along with it a desire to return to the place where he last heard it spoken. “Why should I not? If you say you’ll take me, I will.”

“Ah! I’ll not only take you, but be glad of your company. Nos vamos!”

It is still Francesca who speaks, and at the last words, pronounced in a tone of half encouragement, half command, she stretches out her hand, and taking hold of that of her late jailer, leads him off, as a rough pampas colt just tamed and gentled.

Nacena, astonished at the spirit shown by the little paleface, and delighted with a success which may prove advantageous to herself, says not a word; but steps off forward in front of the other two – making mute pantomimic signs to guide them in the direction they are to go.

Chapter Fifty Five.

An Unlucky Tumble

Soon as Nacena had started on return to the town, the gaucho and his companions commence making preparations to descend from the hill. Not by the road leading down to the tolderia, but the path by which they came up. For before her parting with them the Indian girl and Gaspar had held further speech; she imparting to him additional information of how things stood in the tribe; he, in turn, giving her more detailed instructions how to act, in the event of her being able to obtain an interview with the paleface captive, and to get her off from the place where confined. In the programme arranged between them, the final part to be played by Nacena would be her conducting her charge round to the other side of the hill, where the rescuers would be in waiting to receive her. Delivered to them, the action of the Indian girl would be at end, so far as that affair was concerned, while theirs had yet to be considered.

The place where they were to await her was, of course, mutually understood – by the entrance to the uphill path, under the great ceiba tree. Nacena knew it well, having oft traversed that path, reclined in the shadow of the tree, and played under it from the earliest days of childhood. For it was a pretty spot, much-frequented by the younger members of the community when out for promenade on the plain, or nutting among the palm-groves that studded it. A sort of rendezvous, or stopping place, from the two routes to the town here diverging; the shorter, though by far the more difficult, being that over the Cemetery Hill. Of the roundabout one, Gaspar, of course, had no knowledge. But he knew the ceiba, and the way back to it, all that they needed. The girl had trodden both, hundreds of times, and was acquainted with their every reach and turning. She would come anyhow, and no fear of her not finding the way; their only fear was of her coming unaccompanied.

Least of all has Ludwig this apprehension; instead, full confidence that the Indian will will bring Francesca back with her. Strange this; but stranger still, that, while overjoyed with the thought of his sister being delivered from captivity, his joy should have a tinge of sadness in it, like a mingling of shadow and sun. This due to his suspicion of the motives actuating her who has promised to be his sister’s deliverer. Nacena is not their friend for mere friendship’s sake; nor his, because of the former fellowship between him and her own brother. Instead, jealousy is her incentive, and what she is doing, though it be to their benefit, is but done for the thwarting of Aguara.