Last of the Incas: A Romance of the Pampas

"Something that is not natural has taken place here," the bombero said; "two Negroes! Oh! he said, on coming to the gauchos, Who are these men wearing masks? Oh! Oh! Has it been a crime instead of an ambuscade, and a bit of Spanish vengeance, instead of an Indian attack? I will have a look at them."

He tore from the faces of the four gauchos the strips of wool they had employed to conceal themselves.

"On my word, I do not know them; who can these scoundrels be?"

At the same moment, his eyes rested on another corpse, hidden by a thickly growing bush, beneath which it lay stretched out.

"This man is not dressed in the same manner, so he must be one of the caballeros attacked by these villains; I will have a look at him, and perhaps he will give me the clue to this adventure."

He uttered a cry on recognizing Don Blas Salazar, the capataz of the Estancia de San Julian. He bent over him, raised him softly in his arms, and deposited him gently in the road, with his back leaning against a rock.

"Poor capataz! So brave and kind! But if I am not mistaken, I can feel a little warmth. ¡Viva Dios! I should be glad if he was not dead."

The bombero then opened his clothes, and saw three insignificant wounds on his chest; he hastened to bandage them carefully, and found that the flesh was scarcely cut. Pedrito rubbed his hands with a satisfied air, until he discovered on the skull a fourth wound, on which the hair had clotted and stopped the flow of blood. He washed the wound, cut away the hair round it with his knife, saturated a handkerchief with water, and bound it tightly over the wound. The capataz gave a faint sigh, and moved slightly.

"¡Caray!" Pedrito exclaimed in delight, "He is saved; wounds on the skull, when they do not kill at once, are cured in a week."

By degrees the wounded man seemed to return to life, and at length opened his eyes, which gazed absently around.

"Ah, my good fellow, do you feel better? caray, do you know that you have had a narrow escape?"

The capataz gave a gentle nod.

"Wait a minute," Pedrito continued; and he thrust into his mouth the neck of the bota of aguardiente, which the bomberos always carry on their saddlebow. Don Blas made a grimace, but soon resigning himself, he drank the liquor his physician forced down his throat; in a few minutes, his eyes sparkled with their accustomed brilliancy, and a slight flush tinged his cheeks.

"Thanks," he said, thrusting away the bota with his hand.

"You speak, therefore you are alive, capataz. Can you talk?"

"Yes."

"Without danger to yourself, señor?"

"Yes."

"In the first place, do you recognize me?"

"You are Pedrito, the bombero," the wounded man said, with a smile.

"I am a friend."

"Yes."

"Who put you in this charming condition?"

"I do not know."

"Hum! How many were they?"

"I am ignorant."

"Eh! And why did they serve you out in this way?"

"I do not know."

"I do not know; I am ignorant; all that is not very clear; and if you never say any more, I doubt whether the assassins will be detected. Where have you come from? From Carmen?"

"We left Carmen this morning, to – "

"One moment, if you please. You said we, I think?"

"Yes, we."

"Who are we?"

"Don Sylvio d'Arenal, myself, and two Negroes."

"Good. Where did you separate from Don Sylvio?"

"I did not leave Don Sylvio at all."

"Oh, nonsense!"

"We were together, when masked bandits suddenly came out of this wood, and attacked us. Our Negroes were killed at the first discharge, but Don Sylvio and I got our backs against a tree behind our horses; I fought – and I can tell you no more."

"This blow on the head settled you; it was, by Heaven, enough to fell an ox; but you have a hard head, and lucky for you, for you will recover. So you were unable to recognize your assassins?"

"Yes."

"Just come and have a look at them with me. Can you walk?"

"I think so."

"Try."

And Don Blas Salazar got up, and tottered a few steps with extreme difficulty.

"Take my arm," Pedrito said.

The capataz, supported by the bombero, examined the faces of the gauchos.

"I recognize this man," he said, pointing to a corpse; "it is Corrocho. Now I know the originator of the snare."

"¡Caray! All the better; but Don Sylvio's body is not here."

"Heaven be praised!" the capataz exclaimed,

"He will have escaped, and we shall find him at the estancia."