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

Author: F. S. Brereton

Illustrator: Stanley L. Wood

Release date: June 20, 2021 [eBook #65656]

Language: English

Credits: Al Haines


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROUGHRIDERS OF THE PAMPAS: A TALE OF RANCH LIFE IN SOUTH AMERICA ***






[Frontispiece: DUDLEY ESCAPES WITH HIS PRISONER]




  Roughriders of the Pampas

  A Tale of Ranch Life in South America


  By

  Captain F. S. Brereton

  Author of "How Canada Was Won," "With Wolseley to Kumasi,"
  "Jones of the 64th," "With Roberts to Candahar,"
  "Roger the Bold," etc., etc.



  Illustrated by
  Stanley L. Wood



  H. M. Caldwell Co., Publishers
  New York and Boston




  _Copyright, 1908_
  BY H. M. CALDWELL Co.

  _Published simultaneously in the United States, Great Britain,
  Canada, and British Possessions_

  Electrotyped and Printed at
  THE COLONIAL PRESS:
  C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, U.S.A.




  Contents

  CHAPTER

  I. Outward Bound
  II. A Confidential Friend
  III. The Home on the Pampas
  IV. An English Gringo
  V. Showing his Mettle
  VI. Our on the Rancho
  VII. An Indian Invasion
  VIII. Dudley Leads the Gauchos
  IX. Fighting the Enemy
  X. An Important Discussion
  XI. White Brigands
  XII. An Unexpected Meeting
  XIII. In a Tight Corner
  XIV. Back to the Rancho
  XV. Dudley Makes a Discovery
  XVI. Hemmed in on Every Side
  XVII. Fighting in the Forest
  XVIII. A Dash for the Pampas
  XIX. Antonio Sarvisti is Surprised
  XX. Brought to Book




List of Illustrations


Dudley Escapes with his Prisoner (_See_ page 342) _Frontispiece_

"Its hoofs fouled the top, and in a second horse and man went
headlong"

"All the while the gaucho clung like a leech to it"

"Dudley's revolver snapped sharply"

"Dudley looked incredulously at the stranger, and then uttered a cry
of astonishment"

"He stood to his full height on the saddle, one hand over his eyes to
shade them from the light"




Roughriders of the Pampas



CHAPTER I

OUTWARD BOUND

"One moment please, steward!"

"Yes, sir."

"Bring a little soup and a piece of bread at once, please."

"Soup, sir.  Yes, sir."

The steward bustled off, and returned within a minute with a steaming
bowl of pea soup.

"Thank you,".said the tall passenger who had called for it, nodding
pleasantly, and with a knowing wink.  "Not for me, steward.  For this
young gentleman here.  Now, sir, tackle that.  You will feel a man
again.  There, don't think me interfering and presumptuous.  We are
fellow passengers, and you are in want of a little help and advice.
Come, set to work at it and you will feel yourself again.  You've
been feeling very ill.  Everyone does that at first, and we have had
a dusting in the bay.  But that soup, believe me, will do a world of
good to you."

The tall stranger leaned on the edge of the saloon table and spoke
kindly to the pale-faced youth sitting exactly opposite him.  He had
noticed Dudley Compton on the day of sailing, for there was something
striking about the young fellow.  Then he had lost sight of him for
three days, for outside the mouth of the Mersey the brig had run into
a nasty sea, and had held on right into the Bay of Biscay, lashed all
the way by a stiff gale, which had caused her to flounder and roll,
and had kept her decks incessantly washed by the spray and the
rollers which broke aboard.  Of the twenty or more passengers aboard
but two had put in an appearance at meals in the saloon, and for
them, hardy travellers though they were, eating had been a matter of
difficulty, for the table was decked with fiddles, and every scrap of
crockery and glassware was secured.  To eat soup one had to cling to
the basin with one hand and to the spoon with the other, while one
balanced oneself in his seat as skilfully as the elements allowed.

Dudley had been utterly miserable.  He had not been five miles to sea
before, and he had succumbed to nausea within two hours.  For three
days he had lain in his bunk, tossed this way and that, utterly
prostrate, and careless of the many bruises he received, for he was
thrown out of his berth on several occasions.  Now his natural
courage had forced him to get up, for he was not the lad to lie and
sulk at any time, and not the one to be easily beaten.

"I feel horribly ill and giddy," he said to himself that morning,
"and I really shouldn't mind much if I heard we were sinking or had
run on a rock.  But a fellow can't stand more of this kind of thing.
They'll think I'm shamming.  I'll make an effort to get up."

He crawled from his bunk and struggled into his clothing, a process
accomplished by dint of clinging to the bunk, and very often
interrupted by a pitch and a roll which sent him into the corner of
the narrow box which went by the name of cabin.  He clambered to the
deck and was promptly requested to retire by a bandy-legged seaman,
clad in shining oilskins.

"Can't come out here, sir," he said politely, helping the passenger
into the saloon entrance.  "There's still seas a-sweepin' her decks,
and yer don't want ter go overboard, now do yer?"

"I don't know.  I hardly care what happens," answered Dudley
desperately.  "I shall be ill again if I go down to the saloon."

"Ill!  You've been that this three days.  Pull yerself together, sir.
Never say die!  Why, Nelson hisself was always that sick the first
two or three days at sea that he wasn't fit to fight his own shadder,
much less the Frenchies.  But he pulled hisself up.  He wasn't the
lad to go under without a struggle.  Jest you slip down to the saloon
and call for food.  It'll set yer up, sir."

The kindly sailor assisted Dudley to the door of the saloon, and left
him there with an encouraging nod.  Dudley struggled across the
narrow saloon, a cosy enough place as accommodation went in those
days, but a wretched enough saloon when compared with those provided
on modern-day leviathans.  A roll of the ship sent him with a lurch
against the table; he grabbed at the fiddles, almost tore them from
their place, and was flung into a seat immediately opposite the only
other occupant of the saloon.  He was giddy.  The hot atmosphere
choked him after the breath of pure air which he had inhaled on deck.
He felt faint, wondered whether he should struggle back to his cabin
and give himself up to despair, and then the voice of the passenger
broke on his ears.

"Now tackle the soup, and you'll see," he heard.  "There's a spoon.
Hold on to the bowl, wedge yourself into the seat, and enjoy your
meal.  Bravo!  I see that you will be the very first of our invalids
to get over this little trouble.  Steward!"

"Sir?"

"A cup of coffee, black and strong, and a few biscuits, for this
gentleman."

Dudley felt better already.  The very fact of having someone to talk
to was a relief, and it took his attention from himself for the
moment.  He found that the soup tasted as no other soup had done
before.  Wonderful to relate, he suddenly discovered that he had an
appetite, and recollected that he had starved for three whole days, a
sacrifice in which he had never before indulged.

"Like it?" asked the stranger shortly.

"The best I've ever tasted," answered our young hero, a thin smile
wreathing his lips.  "I'm hungry."

"And so you ought to be.  Steward, just bring along a plate of beef,
and see that there is nothing but lean.  This young gentleman is
hungry."

There was a broad smile on Dudley's face now, for the hot soup had
warmed him right through, and seemed as if by magic to have driven
his giddiness and nausea away, such is the rallying power of youth.
He took a closer look at the passenger sitting opposite, and found
something attractive in his face.  He sat high in his chair, and had
every appearance of being tall.  He was remarkably thin and wiry, as
if he were trained to the very last ounce, for no one could suggest
that illness had anything to do with his condition.  His powerful
bronzed face, with its fair, flowing moustache, its prominent nose
and cheek bones and piercing, kindly eyes, discouraged that idea,
while there was no sign of frailty about the broad shoulders, the
deep chest, and the powerful, sun-tanned fingers which were clasped
upon the table.  This was a man who was engaged in an active,
strenuous life, and, inexperienced though Dudley was, something told
him intuitively that his new friend had gone through many an ordeal,
had faced death, and had battled often for existence.

"Wondering who I am, eh?"

The question was asked abruptly and not unkindly, for there was the
suspicion of a smile on the stranger's face.  Dudley blushed, and
stammered.

"Yes, sir," he admitted, "I was.  You see----"

"There's something different about me from the men you have been in
the habit of coming across."

There was undoubtedly.  Why, even the clothes which this stranger
wore were strange to Dudley.  They were of a smooth, dark cloth,
probably of foreign manufacture, while the cut was decidedly
different from that in vogue in England.  There was a soft, white
shirt beneath the coat, a soft collar attached, and a
brilliant-coloured tie of very ample dimensions issued from beneath
the collar and fell in soft folds over his shirt and the lapels of
his coat.  Added to all this, a wide-brimmed felt hat, with an
ostrich plume thrust into the band, lay on the seat beside him, the
sort of article which one would hardly have expected to have come
across at sea, and certainly not in England in those prim days.

"Well?  Am I right?  Speak out, lad, and don't fear to offend me.  My
name's Blunt.  Harvey Blunt, at your service.  Blunt by name and
blunt also by nature, I fear."

Dudley smiled, for the stranger beamed on him as he spoke, his kindly
face and eyes belying his words.  He might be blunt in speech, and
perhaps for all Dudley knew had cultivated the habit for some special
reason.  He might be a man who commanded many workers, and short,
sharp orders were appreciated and quickly obeyed.  But he was
certainly not offensively blunt, and there was a kind heart under his
jacket.  Dudley reckoned all that out swiftly, while he noticed that
Mr. Blunt spoke English perfectly, but sometimes with the faintest
foreign accent, while later, as they conversed, he heard many strange
exclamations issue from his lips, and he was at a loss to understand
what they meant or in what language they were uttered.

"A lad who thinks and notices," Mr. Blunt was saying to himself, as
he watched the young passenger opposite.  "I like his looks.  He is a
fine sample of the English boy, well set up, manly, with a lot of
character and determination about him, and yet with manners.  Ah, I
like a lad who is always polite!  Well, sir?"

Dudley laughed outright now.  He had finished his soup, and was now
discussing a big plate of beef, while a steaming cup of coffee was
wedged into the corner of the fiddle just at his elbow.

"I must admit that you are a little different, sir," he said.  "To
begin with, your clothes are not like those we wear, and then, well,
you look to me as if you had always lived in the open, and had slept
there, too.  You look, what we call at school, 'as hard as nails, and
awfully fit.'"

"English or not?" was the next question, flashed at him without a
second's intermission.

"Yes, undoubtedly, but accustomed to use another language."

"Right!  Right, all the way through!  A lad who thinks, who uses his
headpiece!  Good!"

The stranger brought a big bony fist down on to the edge of the
fiddle with such force that had Dudley attempted to do the same he
would have suffered considerable pain.  But Mr. Blunt did not seem to
notice any.  He smiled at Dudley while he repeated the words.  As for
the young fellow opposite him, he went red to the roots of his hair,
while his thoughts flew away back to the school which he had so
recently quitted.  Had anyone there given him credit for keen
perception, or even taken the trouble to imagine that Dudley Compton
ever had a serious thought?

"He is hopeless where work or thought is concerned," the headmaster
had said to Dudley's guardian, only a year before.  "You will do
nothing with him in an office.  Send him abroad.  He is a jolly lad,
good-tempered, steady, and with plenty of pluck, but little head."

And here was a stranger praising Dudley for the very thing which his
late master had never imagined him to possess.  Straightway he
resolved to cultivate a habit which evidently gave pleasure to this
tall gentleman.

"Going out to join your parents?" was the next question, fired at
Dudley as he devoured his meal.  "Where do you disembark?  Don't
answer if you wish to keep such matters to yourself.  I'm not
inquisitive, but we seem to have struck up a pleasant acquaintance,
and, after all, there are few enough English over in South America,
and it's always nice to meet one and exchange views.  I'm getting off
at Montevideo, where I transship, and make up the River Paraná.  Ever
been out before?"

"Never.  And I am not going to join my parents, sir, for they are
dead.  I'm an orphan, and have been so for the past ten years."

"Dear, dear!  You're about seventeen, I take it.  Eh?"

"I shall be in a month, sir."

"Then you have nothing to complain of with regard to English feeding.
You are five feet nine, I should reckon."

"And a half," exclaimed Dudley, his nausea and sickness now entirely
forgotten, while the blush of robust health was fast returning to his
cheeks.  "Five feet nine and a half inches, in my socks, sir."

"And your name?"

"Dudley Compton, sir.  I'm going out to Montevideo, where I have to
make enquiries for a Mr. Bradshaw.  He was a great friend of my
guardian, and wrote a year ago to say that I was to come out to his
ranch and he would give me work.  Later I shall buy a farm for
myself."

"Humph!  You will do well to serve an apprenticeship first, and get
to know the country.  Besides, until the Indians are settled, and
civil war has come to an end, it is not over safe to be in the
neighborhood of Montevideo, much less to expend good money on a farm.
So you are going out to join a Mr. Bradshaw, Mr. James Bradshaw, a
short, wiry gentleman, who came out twenty years ago?"

"That is the description," agreed Dudley, "but I have never seen him.
It is a year since he wrote to my guardian."

"Humph!  Then there is disappointment for the boy," Mr. Blunt
exclaimed beneath his breath.  "I will not tell him now.  I'll wait
till he has got his sea legs and has overcome his homesickness.
Anyone could see with half an eye that the lad was feeling lonely and
forsaken.  Come, we will make for a little nook I know of," he said
aloud, seeing that Dudley had finished his meal.  "It is just outside
the saloon entrance, and the captain has rigged an awning so as to
keep off the worst of the spray.  Get a good overcoat on and join me
here."

Dudley felt a different creature as he rose from his seat, and
staggered out of the saloon, clinging to the edge of the table, to
the back of the fixed seats, and to the walls as he made his way
towards his cabin.  And what a different aspect it presented now.
Before, it seemed but a dismal hole, black and forbidding.  Now, the
white paint, and the fact that he looked at it with an eye which was
no longer jaundiced, gave it a home-like appearance.  He wedged his
body into a corner, reached for the rough topcoat which he had
purchased before sailing, and, cramming a hat on to his head, he
returned to the saloon.  Mr. Blunt was already there, his sombrero
pulled down over his eyes and secured by a cord beneath his chin,
while a cloak of ample proportions and of foreign appearance covered
his shoulders and fell to his knees.

"The class of thing you will wear soon," he said, noticing Dudley
look at it.  "This is a poncho, and many a time have I been grateful
for its services.  It is the cloak generally used in South America.
Now, up we go.  Hang on to the rail, and follow me across the deck."

He ran up the companion, stopped for a few moments at the exit from
the saloon to the deck, and then darted out, a gust of wind sweeping
under the wide flap of his sombrero as he did so and turning it back
over the top.  Dudley followed swiftly, and in a few seconds he was
ensconced with his new friend under a canvas awning rigged between
the mizzen mast and the end of the companion.  It was but a flimsy
shelter, it is true, but it kept the clouds of spray from drenching
them, while it was seldom that a wave of any proportions broke over
the rail.  Dudley sat well back on a roll of rope and watched the sea
breaking about the vessel, thoroughly enjoying this magnificent
sight, and forgetful of the fact that barely two hours ago all his
misery and discomfort, not to say desperation, was due to the waves
which he was now watching.  It seemed wonderful to him that any ship
could live in such a sea, and he was more than half surprised to note
how placid and obviously content the two men at the wheel were.

"Settling down to a nice blow, with the wind right aft, and therefore
carrying us fast to the end of our journey," sang out Mr. Blunt, for
the ordinary tones of the voice were swallowed in the roar of the
wind, in the rattle and scream of the rigging.  "We are running out
of the Bay, and shall be setting our course for Lisbon before the
night falls.  Then we touch at Cape St. Vincent, and at once set our
bows west and south, making for Rio de Janeiro.  A week from there
will take us to Montevideo, and then the old life again!"

Between the gusts of wind he told Dudley how he had gone to South
America, to the province of Entre Rios, many years before, and how he
had acquired an estancia.  Then he charmed him with a description of
his life, mounted on the finest horse at the first streak of day,
rounding up cattle which were more than half wild, or galloping over
the wide plains in the effort to secure some of the numerous herds of
fine horses which roamed the country, utterly wild and untamed.
There were Indians, too, and outlaws to be contended with, and a
thousand other dangers which made a man a man, and brought out all
that was fine in him.

Dudley listened with wide-open ears, enraptured with the tale, and
glowing at the thought that this was to be his life once he arrived
at Mr. Bradshaw's farm, never dreaming that the kindly friend beside
him had sad news to convey.  For Mr. Blunt was aware that this same
Mr. Bradshaw had been killed six months before in an Indian raid, and
that Dudley could therefore no longer count upon his help.  Then Mr.
Blunt demanded more news of himself, and Dudley told that he had been
left an orphan when very young, that a guardian had taken care of him
till he was nine, and had then sent him to a school at Blackheath.

"He was a bachelor, and always very kind," he said; "but he was such
a very busy man that he had very little time to devote to me, and, in
fact, we were almost strangers.  I seldom saw him in term time, while
during the holidays we saw little of each other, as he did not return
from London till late every evening, and left early on the following
day.  I think he had an idea that I should go into his office,
but----"

"You hardly looked on that with favor," interposed Mr. Blunt with a
knowing smile.  "An office stool was not as attractive, perhaps, as
the life which Mr. Bradshaw lived?"

"Hardly, sir.  I had heard my guardian often speak of him, and of the
life which he lived, and I own I longed to try it.  But then, too,
the headmaster seemed to think that I should be useless at a desk.
He said as much openly."

"Which only proves him to be somewhat lacking in perception," was the
short answer.  "A youth with average intelligence never knows what he
can do till he tries, so why discourage him beforehand?  However,
here you are, and I am sure you will like the life out in Entre Rios.
It is rough, full of difficulty and danger, but one is a man there,
as free as the air, and engaged in work far more natural to human
beings than is that of the clerk, cooped in a stuffy office and
poring over figures.  Can you ride, lad?"

Dudley owned that he could, just a little.  "I have often mounted a
horse on the heath, and have even galloped and stuck on over a few
jumps."

"And fallen off on other occasions.  Then here's a word of advice.
If you are asked if you can ride, don't be anxious to admit to any
proficiency.  You will be a 'gringo' out there, a foreigner, newly
arrived, what is sometimes called a greenhorn, and the gauchos are
fond of making fun.  Can you shoot?  Never fired a gun or a revolver!
Time you commenced to learn, then.  We'll have a little practice as
soon as the sea calms down.  You'll want to know the business end of
a gun before you reach South America, for ruffians abound there.  You
see that block in the rigging?  Well, before you consider you can
shoot you must be able to hit it a score of times running, turning on
it swiftly, and firing without a pause.  It can be done.  I could do
it now, even with all this movement.  It is simply custom, a knack of
hand and eye, a useful knack which has saved my life on more than one
occasion.  Do you smoke, lad?"

The questions were fired at Dudley with surprising shortness, which
almost made him gasp.

"Sometimes," he admitted guiltily.  "Not very often."

"Good again.  The fellow who commences to smoke too soon upsets his
digestion, and therefore his development.  A cigar is a fine thing,
and helps a man when he's troubled.  The weed soothes, somehow.
You'll start some day and admit the same."

The very mention of a smoke caused Mr. Blunt to feel in the pocket
beneath his poncho, and to extract a long cigar and a match of
brilliant hue.  Dudley watched him as he dexterously struck the match
and kept it alight in spite of the wind, while his nostrils detected
the rank fumes which came from the match.  His new friend drew at the
weed, and every line of his fine open face denoted enjoyment.  Then
the eyes, which had for a second or more looked somewhat dreamy,
fixed themselves on Dudley's face, and scrutinized every feature.

"Hum!" thought Mr. Blunt, "not a bad-looking youngster either, now
that the food he has had and this keen air have brought the color to
his face.  I expect he was a good fellow at school; popular and all
that.  Perhaps he left to the regret of all, masters as well as boys.
Eh?"

"Pardon!" demanded Dudley.

"Not at all," was the answer.  "I was thinking aloud, I fear.  It is
a foolish habit.  But tell me, Dudley, are you not somewhat young to
be sent out to South America?  You tell me you are not quite
seventeen.  Most youngsters are older than that when they come out.
Was there any special reason for your leaving home early?"

He asked the question in his usual manner, his eyes all the time
fixed on the face of the young fellow before him.  He saw the color
rise on Dudley's cheeks.  He could almost have declared that he saw
tears welling up into the eyes, but he could not be sure, for with
such a wind blowing any one might have tears in his eyes.  The lad
faced his questioner unflinchingly, coughed huskily as if something
obstructed his throat, and then answered boldly.

"Yes, sir," he said, "there was a reason.  I was to have come out
here when I was seventeen and a half but something occurred to send
me earlier."

"Something occurred.  Exactly so!  Just as I thought.  And that
was----?  But there, I am too inquisitive.  Your pardon, Dudley.  Do
not even mention the matter further unless you wish to do so."

"I do wish it, sir," said Dudley with decision, and in such altered
tones that Mr. Blunt's attention was again attracted.  "I will give
you my confidence, knowing that you will not divulge a word.  I was
expelled."

"Expelled!  Sent away from the school!  Gracious!  For what?"

There was a startled look in Mr. Blunt's eyes.  He swung round on his
young friend again, for he had turned his head away a moment before,
and sat there staring incredulously at him.

"For what?  The crime?" he demanded.  "It was not a serious one, that
I'll be bound."

"I was expelled for theft.  When I left the school I was branded
forever as a mean and despicable thief."

There was a strange tremor in Dudley's voice.  Mr. Blunt was certain
now that those were tears in the corner of the eyes.  But still the
lad faced him without a waver.  He made his admission boldly,
decidedly, with no attempt to lessen the significance of his words,
and as he spoke, despite the tears in his eyes, and the tremor in his
voice, Dudley Compton's head went higher, while there was a look on
his face which spoke of pride, and of full consciousness of his own
innocence.




CHAPTER II

A CONFIDENTIAL FRIEND

"A thief!  Expelled from his school for theft, and sent out to South
America to get him out of the way!  Impossible!  The boy is not
lying.  I swear he is honest, or ever after this I cease to believe
that I am even the poorest judge of men."

Quite unconsciously Mr. Blunt uttered the words aloud, while he
looked searchingly at Dudley.  As for the latter, he had made his
admission, he had told this new friend of his bluntly that he had
just recently been expelled from his school for theft, and now he
still regarded him without flinching, and in a manner which went far
to persuade this tall man from the pampas that he was innocent.  Mr.
Blunt had not been meeting all manner of men during his life without
encountering many rogues as well as honest men.  The experience he
had gained in various parts of the world was always proving
serviceable, and now more than ever before perhaps.  He prided
himself on his judgment.  That judgment told him without error that
Dudley Compton was not a thief, despite the fact that the lad had
just admitted that it was for theft that he had been expelled from
his school.  It was just like the kind-hearted fellow he was for the
tall, raw-boned stranger at once to stretch out a huge brown paw and
snatch hold of Dudley's hand.

"Tell me all about it," he said simply.  "Tell me how it all
occurred, and why you were selected as the culprit.  Come, it may
help you to talk.  This matter has been weighing on your mind for
some time and making you miserable.  You will be happier and easier
when you have given your confidences to me.  Speak out, and do not
fear that I shall not listen with sympathy."

He pressed Dudley's hand very gently, and looked away over the rail
of the tossing ship.  For his words, his sympathy, his openly
expressed belief in his young friend had had their effect.  Dudley
Compton had for many a day now bravely borne the trouble which was on
his mind, and had been there ever since the hour that he was
expelled.  His guardian, a busy man whose time was so occupied that
he had little opportunity of going into outside matters, was
possessed of very little sympathy.  He was, in fact, not the best
guardian for a lad, for he did not understand boys, and his mind was
so wrapped up in business matters, so encompassed as it were by
office affairs, that he could only look at outside questions
superficially.  He was disgusted that his charge should have been
accused of thieving, and he thought it only natural that, when asked
as to his guilt, Dudley should make the best of a bad matter and
declare his innocence.

"Strange!  Strange!" he had said, when their interview was over.  "I
have seen very little of the boy; too little in fact.  But all have
been fond of him and have given him a good character.  I would not
have thought him capable of such an act.  But there----"

It never occurred to him to go deeply into the matter.  He took it
for granted that the evidence against his ward was convincing, and,
that being so, he at once arranged to send him out to Montevideo,
where in any case he would have gone after the next term.  That done,
he said good-by to the lad, gave him some excellent and prosaic
advice, and, having seen him safely aboard, promptly dismissed the
subject of theft from his mind, and in a short while he had allowed
even the memory of his ward to be clouded by those business affairs
which were the main object of his existence.  He was not an extremely
selfish man; but he was one of those business gentlemen who, being
bachelors, and immersed in city affairs, give themselves up to them
heart and soul, allowing them to take all the time and attention
which other men would give to home affairs.

"There!  Speak out.  I'll listen and tell you what I think," said Mr.
Blunt.  "I've had trouble myself and know what it is.  Tell me the
whole tale."

He still looked away over the rail at the tossing sea, for his words,
and his sympathy expressed by the gentle grip of his big and powerful
fingers, had a strange effect upon Dudley.  He had been stunned at
first by the disaster which had befallen him.  Then he had closed his
lips firmly.  He had become hard, and had wrapped up his feelings in
an impenetrable cloak of silence.  This tall Englishman, with his
soft, kindly voice, his openly expressed belief in him, and his
sympathetic grip, had broken Dudley's hardness and resolution.  He
gulped at the lump which had suddenly risen in his throat, tears
welled up in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks, while a
half-suppressed sob escaped him.  The sound brought all his manhood
back.  He drew his hand out of Mr. Blunt's, straightened his back,
and dashed the tears from his eyes.

"I will speak," he said.  "I have not told a soul up to this, but now
I can say safely what I have to say.  I am no thief, sir."

"Look at me," came swiftly from his friend.  "Look me in the eyes and
say that again on your honor."

Mr. Blunt swung round, and now, instead of regarding the sea, stared
at our hero.  Dudley met his gaze at once, returned his glances
without a waver, and spoke with the utmost deliberation.

"I swear on my honor as a gentleman that I am not a thief," he said
solemnly.  "If you care to hear the tale, I shall be glad to tell it
to you.  It will help me immensely, for it has been weighing on my
mind."

"Then fire away, lad.  I'll listen carefully, and let you know what I
think at the end.  But I say now, too, that you are no thief.  I am
sure of it.  No youngster of your stamp could look me in the eyes las
you have done and not be truthful.  Fire away, and let me have the
whole story."

His cigar was going again by now, and he sent big clouds rushing from
his mouth, clouds which were caught at once by the wind and whisked
away out over the sea.

"I was at Blackheath, at a school where there were one hundred and
eighty boys," said Dudley slowly.  "I had been there for five years,
and as I have told you it was arranged that I should leave after the
next term, and go out to South America.  I lived at home, at my
guardian's, and saw very little of him.  I suppose he paid all my
bills, and made provision for pocket money.  He was fairly liberal,
so that I often had a shilling, and sometimes many, in my pocket to
use as I liked.  I was a prefect."

"A prefect!" interrupted Mr. Blunt.  "Then you were not such a dunce?"

"I was in the upper sixth, halfway up the form, sir; but though not a
dunce I was considered anything but quick.  That is why I was not
selected by my guardian for office work."

"And perhaps you will have occasion to bless the fact to the end of
your days.  Give me a free and open life, where a man may work for
hours healthily and without fatigue.  But I am interrupting.  You
were in the sixth.  You were not a dunce, and yet not brilliant.
Many and many a lad could be described in a similar manner, and of
those quite a few astonish their parents later when they have
discovered, perhaps by pure accident, the life for which they are
suited.  They get congenial work and put their backs into it.  Set
their shoulders to the wheel, in fact, and do well.  But, there,
there, I am off again!  You were fond of games?  You liked cricket?"

"Rather, sir.  I always liked the game, and was captain.  In fact I
was captain of the school for all games, and about tenth from the top
in classwork."

"Then you had friends?" asked Mr. Blunt.

"Plenty, sir, I think," was the answer.  "The fellows were very good
to me when I left."

There was silence for a while, and Mr. Blunt turned away discreetly
again, for he saw that Dudley was manfully endeavoring to suppress
his emotion.  As for the lad himself, as he mentioned his friends his
thoughts flew away back to the school, where he had been so happy,
and so popular if he had not been too modest to say it.  He
remembered with a pang how old school friends and chums had mustered
round him when the dreadful news was issued to all, and he, Dudley
Compton, their games captain, was declared a thief.  In a hundred
little ways they had shown their belief in and sympathy for him.
Indeed, Dudley could have told how with very few exceptions the whole
school had been in his favor, how for a few hours the question of his
innocence or guilt was discussed with eagerness and no little warmth,
and how, as he drove away from the doors of the place he liked so
well, heads and arms were thrust out of every available window and
wild cheers were flung after him.  Yes, he had had heaps of friends,
and many and many a time had the memory of their simple belief in him
comforted the poor fellow's aching heart.

"Captain of the school?  Then you were popular, that's clear," said
Mr. Blunt decisively.  "Go on, lad.  You had plenty of friends."

"Plenty, sir.  I often think of them.  In the upper sixth we were a
happy family, and all got on splendidly together.  One fellow, named
Joyce, was perhaps an exception."

"Ah!  Joyce.  That was his name.  We are coming nearer to the
matter," exclaimed Mr. Blunt, taking his cigar from his lips.  "Yes?"

"Joyce had wealthy parents, who allowed him a liberal amount of
pocket money.  He was one of those fellows who cut a big dash, who
dress better than the other chaps, wear a lot of linen and scatter
their money fairly freely.  In fact, he was very liberal,
particularly if he wished to secure the friendship of some particular
fellow."

"Ah!  I've met many similar men in everyday life.  A little arrogant,
conceited, don't you know; inclined to give themselves airs and be
high and mighty.  Often very shallow, and always fond of good things,
and in particular of scattering their cash so as to make a good
impression.  Yes, they are to be met with here and there, and many
are excellent fellows at heart.  They lose their conceit later and
settle down.  Yes, they are their own enemies.  No one takes them
very seriously.  His name was Joyce?"

"Yes, sir," replied Dudley.  "He was all you say, and beyond thinking
him stuck up and foolish I certainly never had a bad word to say
about him.  We were friendly, and often enough when he had run
through his monthly allowance he would come to me and borrow a
shilling or two."

"Ah!  He overspent his allowance and borrowed.  A bad plan!"
exclaimed Mr. Blunt.  "Never borrow and never lend unless under very
exceptional circumstances.  It leads to trouble, and often loses one
a friend."

There was silence for a little while again, as Dudley pictured the
lively, smooth-tongued Joyce, with his fine clothes, and his great
display of collar and cuff, while Mr. Blunt no doubt was occupied
with his own thoughts.  Perhaps he could tell tales of lending and
borrowing which had led to misery and trouble.  He tossed the stump
of his weed into the air, where the gale caught it and whisked it
overboard.  Then he turned again to Dudley and spoke abruptly.

"Joyce borrowed once too often," he said with decision.  "He asked
you to lend him something, and in some manner implicated you in this
theft.  He was the culprit."

"Without a doubt, sir," answered Dudley promptly.  "I can say it to
you safely, I know.  Joyce was the thief.  It was he who stole the
money, and he it was who should have been expelled."

"Humph!  You know that now.  Did you know it then?  Did you shield
him?"

The questions were fired at our hero one after another, while the
answers were awaited with eagerness, for Mr. Blunt was more than a
little interested in the tale his young friend had to tell him.

"I am sure of it now.  I am as certain that Joyce stole the money as
I am that you and I are seated here.  I guessed it at the time.
There was scarcely any possibility that it could be anyone else.  But
I could not speak.  If he was the thief he was there to admit it.  He
heard me accused, and if he was the culprit it was his duty to come
forward."

"Duty!  Of course it was, lad.  But it isn't every boy, or man for
the matter of that, who has the moral pluck to confess to a theft
even when he sees a friend accused of the act of which he himself is
guilty.  You relied on his honor and pluck.  You were too proud to
speak.  Go on.  I am interested."

"There is little more to tell you, sir," continued Dudley.  "It seems
that there had been robberies from one of the masters' rooms.  I was
warned of the fact, and indeed did what I could to put a stop to the
matter, for such things are exceedingly disagreeable in a school.
But they still continued, and as a result a trap was set for the
thief.  Money had been disappearing from one of the masters' rooms,
and it was hard to say who could take it, for several of the upper
school had occasion to go to that room during the day.  I was often
there, and so were Joyce and other members of the sixth.  But you can
guess what happened.  Some silver was placed in a drawer, the one
from which other sums had been taken, and that silver was marked.  It
disappeared, and promptly the whole school was mustered in its
various rooms, and each one ordered to bring out his purse or show
the money he possessed.  Seven shillings had been stolen, all marked
coins.  Six of those shillings were found in my purse."

He stopped abruptly, all the bitterness of the old scene returning at
once.  He recollected how he had produced his little wealth, how he
had rolled the silver on to the desk, and how, all of a sudden, the
face of the headmaster had changed.  He had looked incredulous, then
as if deeply pained.  A second later he was questioning Dudley in icy
tones.

"This is your money?" he asked.  "You are sure that it is yours?"

"Quite," was Dudley's easy answer.  "It is all that I possess, sir."

"Then it is not yours, sir.  Those shillings were stolen from the
very drawer from which many thefts have taken place.  See for
yourself.  They are marked.  They have been stolen.  I am grieved to
have to call you a thief.  Go to your room at once, sir."

The whole dreadful scene flashed before his eyes.  He remembered his
own amazement, how the accusation had stunned his senses so that he
could not even protest his innocence, and how, without a word, he had
gone to his room.  And there, what agony of mind he had suffered till
the school was assembled, and he was declared the culprit before them
all.  It was then that Dudley had recovered his courage and found
power to speak.  Very quietly, and with an earnestness which would
have impressed anyone, he declared his innocence.

"I swear that those marked shillings were given me scarcely two hours
before my purse was examined.  They were given me by one of the boys
of this school who owed me six shillings."

"His name?" the headmaster had demanded icily.

"I cannot give it.  I am not here to accuse a comrade," Dudley
answered firmly.

"Then I will ask the question.  Boys," said the headmaster, "a series
of despicable thefts has been taking place.  I was determined to put
a stop to them, and for that purpose placed seven marked shillings in
a drawer in Mr. Harland's room.  Those shillings were stolen, and
within two hours six of them were found in the purse of your late
captain.  You have heard what he has to say.  Is there any truth in
it?  Is there a boy here who owed him money, and refunded it after
the theft?  I beg of him, if that boy is here, to come forward and
save the honor of Dudley Compton."

Silence was his only answer.  The boys looked askance at one another,
and two or three of the older ones even glanced across at Joyce.  But
the latter looked as jaunty and cool as ever.  His eyes were fixed on
the headmaster, and he seemed to have forgotten poor Dudley.  But his
heart was beating furiously.  His legs would hardly support him, and
the boy was trying and trying to screw up his courage to declare
himself the thief, and so save his old friend and comrade.  He
hesitated.  Dread of what would follow sealed his lips, and in a
second or two the opportunity had gone.  It was too late to speak.
Dudley was condemned to be expelled, and was already out of the room.
Only when Joyce returned to his own cubicle did the enormity of his
offence fully appeal to him.  Then, when it was almost too late, he
saw what a coward he had been, how dishonorable and despicable had
been his conduct.  For he it was who had actually stolen the coins.
In fact it was Joyce who had for some time been acting as a common
thief.  He had been tempted.  The power to spend money, to be able to
cut a dash and appear grand before his fellows, possessed a huge
fascination for him, and he had fallen to the temptation.  After that
he had repeated the offence.  And now he groaned when he reflected on
this last act, to which thieving had led him.  He had always had a
large amount of friendly feeling for Dudley.  He had looked up to the
lad, recognizing in him a stronger nature.  And now he had stood
aside and had seen him condemned, knowing all the while that he was
innocent.

"I can't bear it.  I will go at once and set the matter right," he
cried.

He rushed to the door of his cubicle, dragged it open, and ran into
the passage.  And there his courage again oozed through his finger
tips.  It was so easy to let matters rest where they were.  It was so
hard to go and make that declaration, and afterwards to be expelled,
to face all that that meant.  He hesitated, returned to the cubicle
to think it over, and finally did nothing.  But for days and weeks
Dudley's look of anguish haunted him.  Joyce became a different
person.  He no longer displayed such an amount of linen.  His clothes
were less conspicuous, and the cash which he had freely spent before
was now kept in his pocket.  Remorse was steadily altering the boy.
The subject of the theft was never out of his mind in waking hours,
and when asleep he even dreamed of poor Dudley.  For Joyce was not a
bad fellow at heart.  True, he was a thief, a mean contemptible
thief; but there was a lot of good in the lad if only he could be
induced to show a little more moral courage.  If he had been
otherwise, if he had been hardened and callous, he would hardly have
given a thought to his crime, or to the suffering imposed on Dudley.
At length, tortured by the recollection of what he had done, he
finally resolved to declare his guilt, and straightway went to the
headmaster.  Later, strong in his purpose, he faced the whole school,
admitted that he was guilty, and begged earnestly that every boy
present would recollect that Dudley was innocent.  Then he left the
school, and once at home set about to consider how he was to make
amends to Dudley.

Dudley finished his portion of the tale while Mr. Blunt listened
attentively.

"Joyce could have saved me," he said solemnly.  "He owed me money,
and repaid it with the coins which were marked.  How did he become
possessed of them?  And remember, sir, that scarcely two hours passed
between the theft and the discovery of the marked coins.  To my mind
there is no doubt that Joyce was the guilty person, and I am sure
that if he had had more pluck he would have come forward.  In any
case I am sure that life has been unbearable to him since.  At heart
he is a decent fellow, and I am certain that his conscience will have
been very active."

"And you were expelled?  You went out of that house knowing what you
tell me, and yet you would not speak?"

Mr. Blunt asked the question quietly, while the look in his eyes
belied his manner and showed plainly that he was not a little excited.

"What else could I do, sir?" came the simple answer.  "I was not
absolutely sure, and even then it was not for me to clear myself at
the expense of a comrade."

"Tommy rot!  False pride, sir!  A wrong impression of your duty to
your comrades!  But it was fine!  Shake hands!"

Mr. Blunt seized Dudley's hand and shook it eagerly, his eyes
flashing strangely as he did so.

"I repeat, it was wrong," he said earnestly, "but none the less you
were a true comrade.  You were not certain, and I know how hateful it
is to have to accuse a friend.  Rather than do that you suffered.
Well, all I have to say is this: If that lad Joyce does not admit his
guilt very soon, and entirely clear you, he is a cur of the worst
description.  It is bad enough for him to be a thief.  It is worse
when he has so little pluck that he can stand by and see another
accused and disgraced, whom he knows to be innocent.  No, if he does
nothing he is a cur.  But I shall be surprised if the lad does not
learn a serious lesson, and I look to this matter to make a man of
him.  I expect that guilty lad to turn over a new leaf, to give up
thieving and his shallow ways, and to act like a man.  There, Dudley,
you and I understand each other.  You at least have behaved with
honor.  You know you are no thief, and you are equally sure that I,
who have heard the tale, believe implicitly in you.  Banish it from
your mind for a time.  Do not brood on it.  Let the future set
matters right, for I look forward to the day when you will return to
that school to listen to the apologies of your masters.  Now let me
tell you more of Entre Rios, of the Pampas, and of the gauchos and
the Indians."

They sat chatting for two hours, after which another meal was served,
when Dudley descended to the saloon boldly, feeling himself again,
and fresh and hungry.  More than that, now that he had unburdened
himself to this stranger, to whom, boylike, he had taken such a
sudden fancy, he felt much happier.  A huge weight was lifted from
his mind, and he felt that he could go on without brooding on his
misfortune, in the hope that something would occur to set the matter
right.  Indeed, thanks to Mr. Blunt's lively chatter, to the vivid
descriptions he gave of South America, and to the narratives of his
adventures there, Dudley very soon was taken entirely out of himself.
A bright prospect was opened up before his eyes, and he longed for
the hour of their arrival, wishing many a time that he were going to
Mr. Blunt's estancia.

Two days later the wind went down, the sea became smooth, while the
passengers put in an appearance one by one, looking pale and
emaciated after their trying experience.  The ship made Cape St.
Vincent, having called in at Lisbon, and in due course furrowed her
way across the wide Atlantic to Rio de Janeiro.  By that time all the
passengers were on excellent terms.

Every day Dudley had spent an hour under his friend's tuition with
gun and revolver, till he had become an expert and an exceedingly
rapid shot.  Bottles and old boxes tossed into the sea had made
excellent targets.

"You will do well if there is trouble, and it may come when you least
expect it," said Mr. Blunt.  "Remember this, the gauchos, as we call
the natives of the country, are extremely polite to one another and
to strangers, but one meets a ruffian now and again, and all are very
excitable.  They are quick to take advantage of one who they think is
helpless, and more particularly of a gringo.  You can hold your own
at shooting.  It now remains for you to learn to ride the wildest
animal that can be provided."

On the following day the ship dropped her anchor off Rio de Janeiro,
and the passengers made ready to go ashore.  Dudley was to accompany
his friend, and ran below at the last moment to fetch a stick which
he had left in his cabin.  As he reached the deck again, one of the
ship's boats was being lowered, two of the sailors standing at the
slings at the bow and stern of the boat, while Mr. Blunt and another
passenger sat in the centre.

"A free ride," he sang out to Dudley.  "We shall be in the water in a
moment, when you can join me."

Hardly had he spoken when there was a shout from the deck, the men
who were lowering the slings gave exclamations of dismay, and in a
second the swinging boat fell from one of the davits, the slings at
one end having parted, and hung, bow downwards, with her nose just
dipping into the water.  Her sudden upset was accompanied by four
loud splashes, as the two passengers and the sailors were thrown into
the water, and then by loud calls, and by a titter from those on the
deck above.  For all who had been tossed so unceremoniously into the
sea were able to swim, and as Dudley looked over the side, there they
were, treading water and looking up to the rail, Mr. Blunt's
sunburned features unusually jovial, while a broad smile was on his
lips.

"Spoke too soon and too truly," he sang out, seeing his young friend.
"Said we should be in the water in a moment, and here we are, very
wet, too."

Dudley laughed, for the scene was very comical.  He clambered on to
the rail, and leaned over, holding all the while to a halyard.  Then,
of a sudden, he became pale, his eyes opened wide, and he shouted
with consternation.  His eye had caught the flicker of a passing
shadow down in the depths, a shadow which had rapidly enlarged and
become brighter, till it developed into a long, silvery streak,
getting broader every moment as the monster shark, for such it was,
turned over preparatory to seizing its prey.  It swirled across the
few yards between it and the swimmers, selected one, and rushed
open-mouthed at him.  A second later, while the passengers above
shrieked in consternation, the cruel beast had seized Mr. Blunt by
the elbow and was endeavoring to back away, while the victim,
suddenly realizing his precarious condition, snatched at the hanging
bow of the boat, and clung there for life.

Dudley did not hesitate.  He flung the stick behind him, took one
swift glance below, and then leaped at the monster, hoping to strike
him as he fell, or to frighten him by the splash he made.  It was
madness, perhaps, to make such an attempt.  It was endangering his
own life for that of a friend.  But he had a warm heart and a brave
one, and, moreover, he felt that he already owed Mr. Blunt a debt of
gratitude.  He could not stand there and see him dragged down beneath
the surface.  He must make an effort for him, and with that gallant
resolve he plunged into the water.




CHAPTER III

THE HOME ON THE PAMPAS

Shouts of excitement, the shrill falsetto of one of the lady
passengers shrieking in her fright, and loud cries of encouragement
accompanied Dudley as he sprang into the sea, and were cut off
abruptly as the water closed over his head.  A burly sailor,
barefooted and with dripping hands, leaped on to the rail, and
clambered out on to the stern of the dangling boat, from which point
of vantage he stared down at Mr. Blunt as he struggled with the
shark, and deep and bitter words escaped his bearded lips in his
excitement.  Then a stout little passenger, with florid countenance
and remarkably bald head, followed him on to the rail, and for an
instant appeared as if he would leap after the young fellow.  The
intention was there, the fire of youth was in his eye, and no doubt
this stout little man had, in his young days, been capable of a
rescue.  But he was too stout now, and he knew it.  He paused, held
back, and then shouted like a maniac.  Behind him the other
passengers crowded, till a voice ordered them to stand aside.

"Stand away, gentlemen, please" came from the captain in stern tones.
"Allow this man to pass.  Now, lads, sling him over, and, Tom, make
good use of that boat-hook."

Quick as lightning a sailor thrust his way through the throng,
clambered over the rail, and let himself go, four of his comrades
lowering him hurriedly by means of a stout rope till he was close to
the water and within reach of the struggle.  Meanwhile Dudley had
struck out, had reached the surface, and had looked round for Mr.
Blunt and the shark.  Hardly half a minute had passed since he leaped
from the rail, but in that short space of time he had decided on his
course of action, though when he plunged into the water he had no
idea what course to pursue.  Then, like a flash, he remembered
reading in some book about sharks, and of how natives in some odd
corner of the world were in the habit of attacking them.

"A shark is helpless if you can tear his tail," he said to himself.
"I recollect the natives did it with their teeth.  I'll try."

Treading water for an instant, he saw the long, ugly snout of the
monster close to Mr. Blunt's shoulder, he noticed the crimson streaks
which now dyed the sea, and also how the dangling boat swayed as the
man clung desperately to it.  Then he drew in a big breath, dived
beneath the surface, and struck out for the tail of the giant fish,
easily seen at that distance.  It was still for the moment, the
monster simply retaining its hold and clinging to Mr. Blunt's arm.
Dudley darted towards it, seized it between both hands, and pulled
with all his strength, only to find that his hands slipped from the
surface, and to receive a blow from the tail which beat him off
promptly.  But he was returning to the attack within an instant, and
knowing that there was no time to be lost, he gripped at the tail
again, dug his fingers into the slippery surface, and a second later
had buried his teeth in the centre of the very extremity.  Ah!  This
was different.  He had a firm hold this time, and though the beast
made frantic efforts to throw him off he clung to the tail, and with
a sudden movement of both arms and of his teeth ripped it from end to
end.  Not till then did he let go his hold, to rise, gasping, to the
surface a moment later.

What a shout greeted him!  Hoarse roars of excitement, bravoes, and
the hysterical shrieks of the lady passenger fell on his ears.

"Bravely done!  A splendid act, and the only effective way to tackle
him," shouted the captain, now standing on the rail and clinging to a
halyard.  "He has let go his hold!  Strike at the brute, Tom.  You
have him within reach.  Ah!  That should settle the matter."

He leaned over, breathless with excitement, and watched as the
sailor, dangling over the side, steadied himself against the ship
with his bare toes, aimed at the floundering fish, and then struck
with the boat-hook with all his strength, driving the iron end deep
into the shark's body.

"Hold him, Tom," called out the captain.  "Mr. Blunt, trail on to the
bow of the boat for a moment longer.  Another is being lowered from
the port side, and will be round.  You're all right?"

"Never stronger in my life," came the cool answer.  "But that brute
has mauled my shoulder rather badly.  Who came after me?"

"Dudley Compton," shouted the stout passenger, now all aquiver with
excitement.  "The brave lad leaped straight in."

"I thought he would.  I guessed he would be the one," came the calm
reply.  "Don't fret, Skipper.  We're all snug down here for a while
if there are no more of those brutes.  Ha, Dudley, that you?"

He nodded coolly as the young fellow swam to his side and gripped the
bows.

"Look before you leap," he laughed.  "In other words, don't dive into
a sea where sharks are expected."

The man was made of iron.  Dudley watched him closely as they clung,
waiting for the relief boat, and plainly saw the lines of pain drawn
on his friend's face, the suffering which this strong settler from
South America was too proud and too courageous to show.  He was
suffering, anyone could tell that from the red streaks which issued
from the rents in his coat, and he was shaken, for his lips twitched
suspiciously.

"You're hurt, sir.  Shall I hold you and so take the weight from your
other arm."

"Hold me!  Not a bit of it, Dudley!" came the swift answer.  "Hush!
I'm hurt I know, but a man recovers sooner if he shows pluck about a
thing of this sort.  Lad, if I had a hand to grip yours!"

There was a depth of feeling now in the voice, feeling which he would
not show before.  Mr. Blunt looked at his young deliverer with eyes
which displayed his gratitude plainly.  Then his features hardened,
and Dudley saw the lines of pain again.  At that moment the boat,
which had been hastily lowered, came round the stern of the vessel,
and the five who were in the water were lifted into her and conveyed
to the gangway, which had now been dropped from the rail.  They were
greeted with shouts of delight, and Mr. Blunt was hurried off a
second later by the captain to have his wounds attended to.  For no
surgeon was carried, and almost every skipper of ocean-going vessels
in those days had picked up a smattering of surgical and medical
knowledge from the seaman's hospital at Greenwich or in other ports.
As for Dudley, he was seized upon by the passengers, hoisted to the
shoulders of the stout and enthusiastic little man who had seemed on
the point of following him into the water, and with the help of two
others he was conveyed down to the saloon.

"There is no fear of his getting a chill out in these waters," cried
the little man, blowing with his exertions.  "Gentlemen----Pardon,
ladies and gentlemen, for I see that there are two ladies with us, we
cannot let Mr. Compton go to his cabin without a word of commendation
for his pluck.  He is just fresh from the most gallant rescue that I
have ever witnessed, and there is no time therefore like the present.
I speak for all here, my dear lad, for the passengers and crew of
this vessel.  We are proud to have you amongst us, and we thank you
for letting us see what a young Englishman can do.  It was fine, sir!
Grand!  I wish the lad were my son."

He beamed on Dudley, shook his wet hand till our hero winced, and
then pushed him into the midst of the other passengers.  It was, in
consequence, a very bewildered young fellow who escaped from their
friendly and enthusiastic attentions at length, and made his way into
his cabin.  Nor did congratulations cease for many an hour, for on
that very afternoon a select committee of passengers went ashore and
returned in the evening with a bulky package.  That night, after
supper had been served, for that was the custom in the days of which
we write, the captain rose from his seat at the table.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said quietly, "it has fallen to my lot to
perform a pleasant duty for one and all of us.  This morning a member
of this ship's company, who, if he will excuse my saying so, is
little more than a boy, behaved like a man, a very gallant man, let
me add.  He showed us in one fearful moment how self can be forgotten
in the hope of helping others.  That he may never forget this noble
act, that we may show him what we think of his courage, we ask him to
accept this memento.  He needs nothing to stimulate his courage, but
at times these useful little implements may remind him that he has
behaved like a man, and can look the bravest in the face without
flinching."

Short and crisp, and happily turned, the speech drew loud cheers from
the assembled passengers, from the stewards, and from the sailors
crowding in the doorway, while from Dudley there came a gasp of
surprise, and two tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.  The
lad had met with very little kindness during his young life; his had
been a somewhat lonely existence, and such notice was strange to him.
He walked with unsteady feet to the captain, and looked at the
memento with eyes which were blurred.  In a splendid leather case,
housed in suitable compartments, were a double-barrelled shot-gun, a
rifle of fine workmanship, and a revolver of the latest pattern.  No
wonder his heart swelled with gratitude.  He turned to express his
thanks, strove manfully to steady his lips, and, failing hopelessly,
stared round at the assembled people.  A second later his friend came
to the rescue.  Mr. Blunt sprang to his feet, cool as ever, his face
just a little paler perhaps, and his arm in a sling.

"Permit me, captain, and you, ladies and gentlemen, to answer for my
young friend and deliverer," he said.  "No one here should appreciate
the truth of the words which our captain has used more than I, and
all must know how deeply grateful I am.  Mr. Compton saved my life.
He rescued me from a horrible death, and in doing so performed a
gallant act.  You have presented him with a handsome memento, which I
know he will always treasure, and for which he is deeply grateful.  I
know that he would tell you that he has done nothing, that Mr. Carter
there was about to attempt the same thing; but we know--in his own
heart he knows--that he has done well.  Yet this memento seems in his
eyes too fine a thing.  He does not realize that you who looked on
cannot recognize such gallantry too handsomely, nor that I, if I were
to present him with a memento of a thousand times its value should
still be his debtor for life.  Ladies and gentlemen, our young friend
has started his new life well; he has won your unstinted praise, and
to the end of his life he will remember this day.  He thanks you for
your overwhelming kindness."

There were more cheers at that, while the stout little man who had
been so unexpectedly referred to flushed to the top of his bald head
and shook his fist at Mr. Blunt.  Dudley, still covered with
confusion, took up his guncase and rushed to the privacy of his
cabin, where he threw himself on his bunk and buried his face in his
hands.  He was shaken.  He felt more confused and unnerved by far
than he had done immediately after the rescue.

"If only they would forget all about it," he groaned.  "If only Mr.
Carter had been first, then there would have been no need for me."

"While I should not have lived to thank you," said a voice at his
elbow.  "Come, Dudley, let us look at the guns.  My word, you are
well set up for the new life!  You will have to hide this case, or
the gauchos will think you are a desperate fellow and will leave you
very severely alone.  And, by the way, I have something to say to
you.  You hoped to meet a Mr. Bradshaw?"

Dudley shot up suddenly, ashamed of the emotion he had shown.

"Yes, sir," he said.  "I was to disembark at Montevideo, and you told
me that you would help me when I landed.  I suppose I shall have
little difficulty?"

"None whatever," was the calm answer.  "That is, you will have no
great trouble before you in finding work, for that, I suppose, is
what you want."

"I will do anything," replied our hero eagerly.  "I have fifty pounds
in my valise, which will keep me going for some time.  I hope to
obtain employment with my guardian's friend.  He promised to keep a
place for me."

"And would keep that promise were he able to.  But listen, my lad.  I
have kept the news from you till this.  Mr. Bradshaw was killed six
months ago in one of the frequent Indian raids.  His estancia was
sold up at once, and his successor might not want hands.  But I do.
Will you come?  I offer you a fair wage, plain living in my house,
and plenty of exercise."

Would he come?  Would Dudley accept a post than which he could wish
for nothing better?

Our hero leaped to the floor of the cabin and stared at his friend,
too much surprised at the news he had just learned to make a reply.
It was a blow to him to hear that this Mr. Bradshaw was dead, and
that the friend to whom he was going would not be there to greet and
help him.  But that disappointment was wiped away in an instant by
the handsome offer made him.

"I am truly sorry about Mr. Bradshaw," he said at last, "and I thank
you from the bottom of my heart for your offer.  Of course I accept
it.  I would come for nothing, for I expect I shall be useless at
first, and as you offer me a home, I shall be able to look round and
get to know the country.  There is no one with whom I would go so
gladly as with you."

"Then the matter is settled.  You are my employé from this moment,"
was the swift answer.  "Your salary will commence from to-day also,
as I shall wish to commence your instruction immediately.  No, not a
word of protest, if you please!  You are too apt to make little of
yourself.  You say that you will be useless till you know the work
required on a rancho.  That is not so.  Any young fellow who is
willing, and does not fight shy when work is in prospect, can make
himself of use.  A day or two will teach him sufficient, and after
that he is becoming more efficient every hour.  But I want to tell
you something more.  This post that you have accepted is no sinecure.
You will be about at the first streak of day and galloping over the
rancho.  Often enough you will be sent off on expeditions to round up
cattle and horses, and on those occasions you will not even have a
tent.  You will sleep with the stars twinkling overhead, and wake
with the dew lying heavily on you.  Maybe, on rare occasions, a frost
will come, and then your blanket covering will be stiff with cold."

Dudley laughed a gay laugh, which showed that none of these hardships
had any terrors for him.

"It will be a grand experience, sir," he smiled.  "Besides, have you
not lived that sort of life for years?  And look how fit and well you
are."

"It has made a man of me, lad.  When I am away from the house on the
rancho I feel free as the air.  I eat and sleep heartily, and fine
weather, sunshine, frost, or rain are one and the same to me.  Give
me the gauchos' camp on the plains, or amidst the small forests, the
crackling fire of thistle tops, a saddle to rest my head on, and a
thick blanket to cover me.  I am happy then.  I enjoy every minute of
the day, and sleep soundly at night.  But there is something else.
Lad, there are Indians.  I have been raided twice already, and on
each occasion I have escaped only by the skin of my teeth.  Fifteen
of my gauchos were killed on the last occasion, and all my stock was
cleared out."

"And still you are going back to the place, and sighing to get there,
sir," came Dudley's answer, short and abrupt.  "If you can face an
Indian raid, why, I shall try to do so also."

"Then our compact is settled.  Not that I thought that you would
flinch; but there are some who would.  Now for a few words as to
myself.  You have told me who you are.  I will let you have a little
of my own history.  You hear me use strange expressions sometimes.
They are Italian, and though I am an Englishman born and bred, yet I
have Italian sympathies and interests.  My father lived many years in
Rome, and often had a villa in Sicily, to which I used to go for my
holidays.  I speak Italian like a native, and know the southern
portions of Italy and the whole of Sicily very well.  I married an
Italian lady, and settled in the island I have mentioned, till one of
the foulest acts of treachery drove me from it and sent me out here.
You have heard of the vendetta?"

Dudley had heard of it in some obscure way, and had a faint idea of
its meaning, but he was not quite sure.

"I fancy it is sometimes a secret society," he said.  "Or perhaps it
is an oath which certain families take, that they will be revenged on
some individual or even on a whole family.  They plot and plan for
years, if need be, till their revenge is accomplished."

"Just so; the latter is more correct.  It is a hateful practice, and
is one which might be expected in a country such as Italy, where
secret societies abound, where men are condemned before secret
tribunals, and assassinated by the poniard of a ruffian who, beyond
his interest in this society, has no direct animus against the
condemned man.  Dudley, my wife's family had fallen under the ban of
some secret society the members of which are, to the best of my
belief, all of one family.  These wretches murdered her father, and
would have done the same by the mother had not a kind providence
removed her peacefully before their poniards could reach her heart.
That did not satisfy them.  They slew my dear wife, and would have
assassinated me and my little daughter had I not escaped from the
country.  They drove me out, and I sailed for South America, where
there are many Italians, a number of whom, however, have now returned
to their native country with Garibaldi.  But that does not concern us
now.  My daughter, a child of your age, is settled in a convent near
Naples, where she is secure, and where she has been for the past six
years, passing under an assumed name.  For myself, one of these days
I may be able to return to Italy, where I should like to live, for
the warmth suits me, and I feel at home.  Also I have an estate in
Sicily.  There, I have bored you, I fear."

Dudley shook his head emphatically, for, on the contrary, he had been
vastly interested.  Many a time during the voyage he had wondered
what there was about his friend which made him so different from
other men.  He was sure that he had a history, and now he had learned
it.

"It seems terrible that such things should occur," he said aloud.
"In England we have nothing like it, for the people would not allow
such revenge and such assassinations.  You have found security in
this country, sir?"

"Would that I had," came the answer.  "I thought that by coming here
I should escape these miscreants, but that is not the case.  It is
true that I have been far more secure, for the simple reason that out
on the ranchos there are so few men that a stranger is at once
noticeable.  We want to know at once who the man is, where he comes
from, and what he wants.  I have faithful gauchos there who would
protect me, and who may be relied on to give me instant warning of
danger.  And yet I know that one Indian raid at least was instigated
by my enemies, and I was once attacked in the streets of Montevideo.
There is, indeed, no doubt that the ruffians who slew my wife would
willingly kill me and my child.  However, they have a big, strong man
to deal with, and if I catch them in the act of attacking, why----"

The big, strong fingers of his uninjured hand formed themselves into
a sturdy fist.  The man's stern, sun-tanned face hardened, and there
came over his features a look which told better than any words that
Mr. Blunt would deal promptly and with the utmost severity with his
enemies.

"Yes," he went on, "they shall have little leniency from me, for
nothing but the severest measures and a stern example will stop their
practices.  However, do not let me trouble you any longer.  I have
told you that many political exiles from Italy have come to South
America and have settled near Montevideo, and, knowing that, you can
realize that one or more can send news of me to these people in
Italy.  There are paid spies amongst them, and if I were to take up
my quarters for long in one of the towns, such as Montevideo or
Buenos Ayres, why, I should be inviting trouble.  There are ruffians
to be employed in every city.  Now, let us take a stroll on deck.
The city of Rio looks magnificent when seen from the sea."

They clambered up the companion and strolled arm in arm from bow to
stern, their eyes tracing the city by the numerous lights which
twinkled from streets and windows.  Late that night they turned in,
Mr. Blunt to fall asleep at once, in spite of his wounded shoulder,
and Dudley to lie awake and think, and dream of the life before him,
of camp fires, of a bed beneath the stars, and of a life of freedom
and hardship out in the open.

"Just what I should like," he said over and over again to himself.
"I shall do my best to become expert with a horse and to keep up my
shooting, while I shall try to learn the business of managing a
rancho.  Perhaps some of these days I might become manager for Mr.
Blunt, or even his partner.  At any rate I mean to get on and make a
living."

He fell into an uneasy slumber at last, and gradually his still
active brain turned from the pampas, from what he imagined a rancho
to be, to Italy, to the terrible vendetta which had cast such a cloud
over his friend's life.  Little did he imagine, or even dream, that
in days soon to come he, Dudley Compton, would become involved in
that vendetta himself, and stand in fear of his life.

Early on the following morning the anchor was roused, the sails
hoisted, and the ship set on a course for Montevideo.  A week later
they came to a rest off the town.

"We get off here and transship to a river boat," said Mr. Blunt.  "I
have friends ashore, and we will stay with them for a couple of days,
while I lay in a stock of stores for the rancho.  At the same time we
will get you a suitable outfit.  In those clothes you are at once
conspicuous, while, if dressed in gaucho costume, no one will know
you from a native of the place, for you are as brown as any white man
could be."

Having shaken hands with the officers and the passengers who still
remained aboard, Dudley clutched his guncase in his hand and went
over the side into the small boat awaiting them.  They were rowed to
the quay, and soon were at the house of Mr. Blunt's friends.  Two
days later they embarked on a small river boat, a mass of stores
being placed aboard under Dudley's supervision.

"Check every article carefully," said Mr. Blunt, "for though people
are for the most part honest, it is as well to remember that a
ruffian is to be found here and there.  How do you like your new
outfit, lad?  You look well in it."

Dudley colored, for he had donned the garments for the first time
that morning.  He wore a shirt of dark-blue flannel, open at the neck
save where the folds of an ample red scarf surrounded the collar.  A
wide sombrero of black felt covered his head, an ostrich feather
standing up from the ribbon.  His nether garments consisted of a pair
of trousers of light material; and over these he wore a pair of split
buckskin leggings, reaching to his waist, fringed with leather
tassels on either side, and the whole held in position by a strong
leather belt which encircled his waist, and in which a hunting knife
was thrust.  On his right hip, with the butt protruding from the top
of the pocket stitched to the leggings, was his revolver, so placed
that it was always ready to his hand, and yet was out of the way on
ordinary occasions, and clear of the saddle when riding.  A pair of
enormous spurs, with big rowels, completed his outfit, but he wisely
refrained from wearing them.

"It takes a little time to get accustomed to such big bits of metal
on one's heels," laughed Mr. Blunt.  "A man looks very foolish if he
happens to trip; and besides, a rowel can inflict a nasty wound on
one's foot.  Once we are off you can put them on, and practise
walking with them, and when we reach our port you will feel more at
home with them.  I will see that you have a quiet horse, and can
leave it to you to swing yourself into the saddle as if you had been
at it all your life.  Your poncho will always be strapped to the back
of the saddle."

Some ten days later they arrived at the up-country port at which they
were to disembark, Dudley being amazed at the size of the River
Paraná.  By then he was well accustomed to his new outfit, and was
able to walk with ease and certainty in spite of his spurs.  They
went ashore, checked their goods, and handed them over to a party of
gauchos who had come from the rancho to meet their employer.

"They will load them up on pack horses and come through after us,"
said Mr. Blunt.  "Now, Dudley, this horse will suit you, and the
stirrup leathers are, I should say, of a suitable length.  Remember
to keep your toes in, and your spurs clear of the flanks, or he will
soon tell you that you are a novice.  Pick up your reins, take a grip
of his mane with the fingers of the same hand, and then tuck your toe
into the stirrup.  A little effort will carry you into the saddle,
when you will easily get your other stirrup by a little manipulation.
On no account place it on your toe with your hand."

The group of gauchos, dusky-faced and well-set-up fellows, who had
come to meet Mr. Blunt, stood watching the two as they mounted.
Their keen eyes had so far detected nothing about our hero save his
youth, and perhaps the newness of his costume.  They looked on
critically as he went up to his horse, put his fingers beneath the
girth to see that it was secure, and then patted the animal.  Dudley
was not going to be hurried, though he felt all those eyes on him.
He picked up his reins, just as he had been taught to do at home,
twisted a few locks of the long mane round his finger, and then put
his toe in the stirrup.  After that it was simple work to mount, and
in less time than it takes to tell of it he was astride the saddle,
and by good luck his other toe had found its stirrup.

"_Bueno_!  He has ridden, but he is a gringo for all that," exclaimed
one of the gauchos.  "What is this tale of the master's?"

"The lad rescued him from a shark.  Leaped into the water, and tore
the brute's tail to shreds.  He has pluck!"

"He will suit us, comrades," chimed in another.  "I have asked the
hands aboard, and they say that he has good manners, that he speaks
politely to all, and that he is no duffer.  There is a tale that he
can shoot."

At that they pricked up their ears, for a gringo might ride fairly
well, he might have ample pluck, but shoot!--no, that was an art
learned only on the pampas.

"I will give my rifle to you, Pietro," growled one of their number, a
rough-looking fellow.  "Listen, I will give you my rifle if this
gringo can hit the pith ball of a bolas placed on a fence thirty
paces distant.  That is, with the revolver.  Anyone could do it with
a rifle."

"And I will return the gift," came the answer.  "I know nothing for
sure, mark you, _amigo_, but the young señor is a good fellow, and he
will try to win for me.  _Bueno!_  We will set to work to pack the
animals."

Mr. Blunt had been careful to tell a portion of Dudley's tale on
landing, knowing that his gallant act would win him more friends
amongst the rough gauchos than would the fact that he was a protégé
of his.

"He has come with me as a friend and employé," he told the head man
of the gauchos, "and saved my life from a shark.  You will find the
young señor an excellent fellow."

Little did Dudley know what had happened.  But he could see out of
the tail of his eye as he rode off that the men were not disposed to
be unfriendly to him.  He felt glad that he had been able to mount
his horse with such ease and dexterity, and he promised himself that
he would do all he could to become a perfect horseman.

That night they lay down by the camp fire and slept beneath the
stars.  On the following day, having ridden across miles of sweeping
pampas, they came to a strip of forest country, beside which were
some buildings.

"Our home for the future," sang out Mr. Blunt.  "Welcome to the
rancho!"




CHAPTER IV

AN ENGLISH GRINGO

"We will make the most of our time while the men are absent," said
Mr. Blunt, as he and Dudley sat outside the door of the principal
building of the rancho on the night of their arrival.  "As you see, I
have a native servant here, who does the cooking and house duties for
me.  He is a faithful fellow and has been in my employ for many
years; in fact, he has been at this special work ever since an Indian
bullet lamed him and made him unable to mount a horse.  He will not
see you during the day, while the twenty odd men I have at the rancho
will not put in an appearance for many days, as they are out branding
the cattle."

"So that I shall have some time to look about me and pick up my
duties," suddenly exclaimed Dudley, stretching his legs out and
rubbing the back of his knees.  Two days in the saddle had stiffened
his limbs, and the unaccustomed exercise had chafed the skin from his
legs.  He felt sore and uncomfortable, and many a time on this last
day he would have dismounted had he not been determined to master his
horse and do exactly what Mr. Blunt did.

"Stiff and sore?" asked his employer with a laugh.  "Yes, I have seen
that.  You managed to get across your horse at the landing stage in a
very creditable manner.  Not that you deceived the gauchos.  They are
too knowing for that.  They saw, of course, that you had been in a
saddle before.  But even if they had been children they would have
guessed that you had had very little practice.  You see, once a
horseman always one.  Nearly six months later I return to this
country and fall into its ways as if I had been away for only a day.
My saddle comes as easy to me as a chair does to you, no doubt.  My
feet find the stirrups at once, and if there were need I could ride
without them.  Watch the gauchos when they return with our pack
animals.  They are amongst the finest horsemen.  I have known, and
there are few of the rough beasts that we capture from the pampas
that they cannot ride after some little difficulty has been got over.
They scarcely touch the stirrup, but place a hand on the neck of the
beast and vault into the saddle.  That's what I want you to practise,
Dudley.  The men will hardly reach here for a week, for they have a
large amount of stuff to bring, and will come very slowly.  Take your
horse at dawn and make a wide circle round the rancho.  Don't be
afraid of riding off the place, for the land for fifteen miles round
here belongs to me, though there is not a fence or a boundary stone
to show where the property comes to an end.  Get some food from
Francia, the cook, take a shotgun with you, and spend the whole day
in the saddle.  Yes, yes, I know that you are sore," he went on,
indulging in another smile at Dudley's expense, as the latter stroked
his knees again.  "I will give you something which will harden the
skin, and to-morrow night you will be quite comfortable.  Now, lad,
how do you think you will like the life?"

"Immensely!" came the prompt reply.  "Of course I am more or less
ignorant of it at present, and perhaps I ought to have kept my
opinion till I have seen and experienced more.  But who could not
like this open-air existence.  It is so warm out on these plains, so,
so----"

"Exhilarating," suggested Mr. Blunt.  "Yes, a man feels fit and keen
here.  The air is a tonic to those who are weaklings when they come
to the pampas, and many a delicate man have I seen get strong and
healthy after a few months.  Look at the sky!  That is the sort of
ceiling we have at night for the greater part of the year.  The stars
are brilliant, and that crescent of the moon makes the place almost
as light as during the day."

Dudley stretched a little farther out in the bent-wood chair in which
he was seated, and stared up at the glittering sky above, admiring
the myriad stars, and the gleaming crescent floating in the heavens.
The air was beautifully warm and balmy, so much so that a man might
sleep out in the open without a covering and still not risk catching
a chill.  A soft breeze fanned his cheek and brought with it the
sweet scent of the trees which grew thickly near the rancho.  He
could see their tops swaying gently in the moon rays, and as he
glanced about him he could distinguish the low roof of the rancho,
the building which had been Mr. Blunt's home for many years.  It was
a long, straggling affair, with timber sides, and a shingle roof, and
so many doors that Dudley felt bewildered.  Some two hundred yards
from it was another building, of smaller proportions, while to the
left of that was a fenced enclosure, surrounded by huge posts and
beams.

"The corral," explained Mr. Blunt.  "That is where we rope in our
wild cattle and horses, and where the most fractious of the latter
are trained to take a saddle.  You will see all that work in good
time.  I notice that the doors of the house amuse you."

They were seated in their chairs some thirty yards from the building,
and beneath a clump of trees at the foot of which was a shallow well,
where the house supply was obtained.  Dudley had, indeed, noticed the
fact to which his employer referred, and waited for an explanation.

"They are put in with a purpose," said Mr. Blunt.  "When I offered to
bring you here I told you that there were certain drawbacks.  Well,
Indians and an ever-threatening raid are amongst those drawbacks.
Now, supposing the Indians appeared at this moment, you and I should
run for the nearest door, which happens to be the one in general use.
We should bolt and bar it once we were in, and then our guns would
speak from the openings left for that special purpose.  But our men
are still out on the rancho, and unless they were warned of the
coming of the Indians they would be slaughtered one by one, for they
are often widely separated.  I should warn them.  I have an old
cannon mounted on the roof, and Francia would fire it.  The noise
would certainly reach the ears of the gauchos, and would tell them
that there was danger.  They would collect together, gallop for the
rancho, and make a rush."

"While you would throw open the door or doors nearest to them, and
fire on the Indians," interrupted Dudley.

"Precisely!  There might be a hundred and more of these enemies, for
they hunt in large parties, and our sole aim would be to get the
whole of our force together.  The horses and the cattle we should
have to leave, and I have found by a former experience that they act
as an excellent counter attraction.  The Indians raid us for our
horses and cattle, and also to kill us if possible.  If they fail to
kill us, and see that to capture us they must fight, they will take
the easier course and make off with the cattle.  To drive them they
have to separate a little, and that is the time for us to retaliate.
We follow, and on one occasion we succeeded in saving our beasts and
in driving the enemy away.

"Now we'll turn in.  To-morrow you take your horse as I have
directed, and don't forget; make the most of the week before you."

He rose from his chair, stretched and yawned, and led the way to the
house.  A solitary candle was spluttering in the one big room of
which the place consisted, and it showed two pallets, constructed of
wide strips of canvas nailed to long wooden trestles.  Mr. Blunt
clambered on to one, drew a blanket over him, placed a revolver
beneath his pillow, and nodded good night.  Dudley followed his
actions, blew out the candle, and settled himself to sleep.  But for
a long while he remained awake, listening to the deep breathing of
his friend, and to the long, low whimpering of a biscacha, a species
of rodent which infests the pampas in certain parts.  Then he, too,
fell asleep and continued in blissful unconsciousness till the first
faint streak of light stole into the room.

"Time to water and groom the horses," cried Mr. Blunt, leaping from
his pallet and touching Dudley.  "Come now, how is the stiffness?
What a grand morning it is!  Why it makes one glad to be alive."

Dudley wakened with a start, threw his blanket from him, and sat up,
rubbing his eyes.  Then he rose suddenly and leaped to the ground,
only to give a groan, and smile somewhat lamely at his friend.

"My word!  Stiff!" he exclaimed dismally.  "I can hardly move.  I
thought that a good night's sleep and rest would put matters right.
I am worse than I was yesterday."

"And will be till I take you in hand.  Strip off those things, my
lad, and hop along over to the well.  There is a pump there and a
tub.  Have a thorough good splash, and rub yourself down till your
skin is on fire.  Then I'll give you a little of my own special
embrocation.  Come, hustle!"

Mr. Blunt smiled at Dudley as he bustled him into one corner of the
room and watched him remove his clothing.  Then, tossing him a rough
towel, he conducted him to the well for all the world as if he were
his jailer.  Dudley hobbled across the green space which intervened,
gripped the handle of the pump, and set to work with a will.  He
meant to show his friend that even if he were stiff and sore he had
still some energy.  But he wondered whether he would, after all Mr.
Blunt had said, be fit to ride that day, or move away from the house.

"My hips are so stiff and sore that I cannot bend them, while my
knees feel too weak to carry my weight," he said to himself.  "And my
back, oh!"

"Get into the tub and sit down, my lad.  That's right!  Makes you
gasp a little!  The water comes from a spring, you see, and is
precious cold.  Put your head under the spout and let it pour right
over you."

Mr. Blunt waved to the tub, saw Dudley clamber stiffly into it and
crouch as low as possible, and then, with rapid movement of one of
his muscular arms, for his injured limb was not yet quite recovered,
sent a stream of ice-cold water gushing from the spout over Dudley's
quivering body.  No wonder that he gasped!  For a moment he felt as
if he could not endure it, and then he began to enjoy the sensation.
The cold water wakened him effectively.  He pushed his head still
farther under the spout, and then gradually let the water pour over
his back.  A minute later he was splashing himself all over and
rubbing vigorously at his limbs.

"Makes you feel better?" demanded Mr. Blunt with a grim smile.  "Ah,
thought it would!  Hop out now and I'll give you a rub down.  Then
you can take a run round the rancho and afterwards have the
embrocation applied.  There, out you come!  One has only to watch you
to see that you are more active already.  I'm not at all surprised to
find you so stiff and sore, for you must remember that we have ridden
fairly hard and fast, while you had not been in a saddle for many a
long month."

"And then for only a matter of an hour at a time," answered Dudley,
spluttering as the water ran from his face.  "That beast I rode
yesterday is a beauty, and quiet enough, but he seemed to be
fretting, and kept jolting me about."

"He is young and raw in some ways, though sedate enough," came the
answer.  "You will have him again to-day, and there is nothing to
prevent your putting him to the gallop.  Practise mounting quickly,
and when you get a little more accustomed to the saddle, put him at a
jump.  Now, how's that?"

It was no gentle hand which applied the towel to Dudley's shoulders,
and very soon he was in a furious heat from head to foot.  The sudden
immersion, and the friction afterwards, had quickened his
circulation, and already the greater part of his stiffness was gone.
He tied the towel round his waist, and set off at a rapid pace round
the rancho.  Ten minutes later the embrocation had been applied and
he was fully dressed again.

"Now for the horses," said Mr. Blunt.  "That is a duty which you must
never neglect, for it may happen that your life may depend on your
horse.  Every gaucho looks after his own animals, and I do the same,
watering them at dawn, grooming and then feeding.  Your beast gets to
know you thoroughly well, till he will almost understand the words
you say to him.  Here we are.  The animals live at this end of the
house, so as to be under our guns.  There is a trough near the well,
and I generally do the grooming there, for it is out in the sun."

Everything was new to Dudley, for the reader must remember that he
had lived for the most part in a town.  He followed Mr. Blunt to the
stable, took the brush which was given him and a wisp of straw, and
then went up to his horse.  The animal knew him at once and whinnied.
Dudley patted its neck, and taking the beast by a lock of its mane
led it out to the well, where he let it drink peacefully till it was
satisfied.

"Now groom him thoroughly," said Mr. Blunt, "and afterwards give him
his feed.  And just remember another point.  You like to have your
breakfast in peace, I have no doubt, and so does a horse.  Leave him
to enjoy it.  It upsets his digestion if he is constantly interfered
with while eating, and if you would have him always fit, see that he
has his feed-times to himself, and a reasonable space afterwards
before you make use of him.  There, the grooming's done, and we can
take them back."

An hour later Dudley lifted his native saddle on to his head and went
to the stable.  His horse gave another whinny as he appeared, and
moved a step towards him, standing perfectly still as he placed the
bit in its mouth and the saddle on its back.  Then our hero slung his
shotgun over his shoulder, led the horse out, and sprang into the
saddle, feeling wonderfully agile and supple now.  A minute later he
was galloping at full pace away over the pampas, his broad-brimmed
hat flapping in the wind, and the trimmings of his leggings trailing
out beside him.

"Sits fairly well," exclaimed Mr. Blunt critically, as he watched his
departure.  "There is a little too much daylight showing between him
and the saddle, but that is a fault which he will rectify.  That lad
means to be a rider.  If I make no mistake he has made up his mind to
be as good at his work as any of the gauchos."

Dudley had, in fact, firmly determined to do his utmost to please his
master and gain the good opinion of the gauchos.  After a few
minutes' fast galloping he began to feel quite at home in the saddle;
he sat lower and less of that daylight of which Mr. Blunt had
complained showed as he rushed along.  He took a steady pull at his
reins, and spoke softly to his horse.

"Steady, boy!  Take it easy for a little.  I want to practise that
mounting and dismounting."

Pulling the animal up short, he slung his gun still higher, so that
it should be quite out of the way, and for an hour he practised
vaulting into his saddle, till he could reach it without putting foot
to stirrup.  Then he became more ambitious, walking his horse and
endeavoring to gain his seat without stopping him.

"Not so easy as I thought," he said to himself.  "But still a thing I
must do, for it might happen that I should be chased by some of the
Indians, and every second would be of importance.  Another thing I
must learn.  I must manage to mount from the off side as easily as I
can from this.  Yes, I remember Mr. Blunt telling me that every
gaucho could do that."

Two hours later he felt thoroughly tired with his exertions, and,
seeing a clump of trees, rode towards it, dismounted, and slackened
the girths.

"Time for something to eat," he thought.  "I must be five miles from
the rancho now, and this afternoon I will trot farther out.  If I do
twenty miles in all I shall have had a fair day, and shall have
gained some idea of the country."

Following out this plan, he rested himself and the horse for a full
hour, and then trotted across the pampas, his beast taking him along
at a gentle amble, which is so comfortable for the rider when a great
distance has to be covered, and which can be kept up by a good horse
for two or three hours at a stretch.  About four in the afternoon he
turned his face towards the rancho, and when within four miles set
his beast at a gallop.  The pace increased as horse and rider entered
into the excitement of the movement, and very soon they were sweeping
over the pampas.  Suddenly an object ahead attracted Dudley's
attention and he looked anxiously at it, uncertain of its nature at
that distance.  But in a few seconds the object was distinctly
visible, and to his dismay he found himself bearing down upon a long,
low corral, which cut directly across his path.

"Steady!  Whoa!" he cried, sitting well back and pulling at his
reins.  But his mount on this occasion was somewhat out of hand.  The
sharp gallop, and the knowledge that its stable was near at hand, had
fired its blood and made it unheedful of the bit.  Its neck was
stretched to its fullest extent, its teeth were closed firmly on the
bit, while its eye seemed to see only the rolling pampas, the
brown-green grass swaying in all directions.

"Steady!" shouted Dudley again, pressing his stirrups forward and
leaning far back to put all his weight and strength into the pull.
Then, realizing that nothing would stop the mad flight of the beast,
he gathered his reins well into both hands, gripped firmly with his
knees, and steered as well as he was able for what appeared to be the
lowest portion of the long corral rails extending across his front.
To turn the horse more than a few inches either way was hopeless, for
he had already made one mighty attempt to swerve to the right and
gallop along parallel with the obstruction.

In a flash they were within twenty feet of the rail, and only then
did the animal observe what was before him.  Dudley felt it hesitate
in its stride, and, taking instant advantage of the fact, he pulled
the beast in a little, though to bring it to a halt was impossible.
Then his voice rang out again, encouraging the horse.

"Steady, boy!" he cried.  "Get yourself together.  Up!  Over!"

Nobly did the gallant beast respond.  Though the rail was at least
five feet in height, it gathered its legs together, steadied its
stride, and then, rising to the obstruction, flew over it like a
bird, alighting with a thud on the far side, a thud which, to an
unaccustomed rider like Dudley, almost proved disastrous.  He was
jerked forward on to the animal's neck, but recovered himself with an
effort and once more gripped his reins.  But still there was no
stopping that mad flight.  His mount seemed to gather fresh impetus
now that it had overcome the rails, and it tore across the corral.
Its eye fixed itself on the far rail, it changed step some fifteen
paces from it, and once again, as Dudley sang out to encourage it,
the beast rose for the jump.  But, alas! on this occasion the rail
was higher.  Its hoofs fouled the top, and in a second horse and man
went headlong.  Dudley was far away ahead, having alighted on his
back, after having turned a complete somersault, while the horse fell
on its side, rolled, and came to a halt with its feet lashing the air.

[Illustration: "ITS HOOFS FOULED THE TOP, AND IN A SECOND HORSE AND
MAN WENT HEADLONG"]

To say that Dudley was shaken was to express the matter mildly.  The
breath was jarred out of his body, and for a minute perhaps he lay on
the ground, his head swimming, and his senses somewhat scattered,
while he gasped till his face assumed a purple hue.  Then his breath
came again, and with it his dogged spirit.  He sprang to his feet and
ran across to the horse, which was now lying on its side, scared and
winded by the fall.  Dudley took it by the ring of its bit and
encouraged it to rise.

"Neither of us hurt, old man," he cried joyfully, as he walked the
beast to and fro and noticed that it was not lame.  "We were getting
along too well together, and you seemed to think that you had a fine
rider on your back.  But we won't be beaten.  We'll wait till you
have your wind again, and then we'll have another go."

He patted the beast's neck, and then saw to the girths, which had
slipped far back.  Leaving the animal to stand alone, he slipped his
gun from his shoulder and carefully examined it.

"Not even dented!  That's another bit of luck, for it is hard to
believe that it could have escaped.  And, when one comes to think of
it, it is as difficult to see how we both escaped breaking our necks.
Lucky for me that I was thrown so far, for if I had struck close to
him he might have fallen on me, and then there would have been an end
to my prospects.  I'll give him ten minutes more, and then we'll
tackle the thing again."

He slipped the sling of the gun over one of the posts which held up
the rails of the corral, and sauntered up and down, inspecting the
rails somewhat grimly.  There was a determined look on his sun-tanned
face, a look which told that come what might he was going to
persevere.  The heavy tumble he had experienced had scared him not a
little, and had shaken him considerably.  Some would have considered
it foolhardy for him to attempt the jump again, while others would
have excused a second attempt, considering the narrow escape he had
had.  But Dudley was out there to conquer difficulties.  He had a
task to learn, and to hesitate now, to cry off because of a tumble,
was not the way in which to overcome those difficulties.  He hitched
his belt in another hole, crammed his hat well down on his head, and
walked steadily up to his horse.

"We're going to have another go, old boy," he said, as he patted the
neck.  "We'll take it steadily this time, for you want little run for
the jump.  Now, up we go!"

He himself was surprised at the ease with which he reached the
saddle.  Without touching the stirrup he vaulted into his seat, and
after the practice he had had his toes fell of themselves into the
stirrups.  He gathered up his reins, patted the neck again, and
walked his horse up to the rails to let it have a good look.  Then he
turned about, till they were thirty paces away, and with a touch of
knee and rein he swung the beast round.  There was no need to tell
the gallant animal what was wanted.  Dudley felt it bound forward.
It took the bit in its teeth, gathered its feet beneath it, and
hopped over the rails as if they had been a foot in height only,
Dudley sitting well down all the time.  A minute later they faced
round again, and this time, with a leap which left a foot of light
between its heels and the rail, the horse sailed over the
obstruction, animal and rider alighting together, and without a jar,
on the outside of the corral.  Dudley slipped out of his saddle,
slung his gun across his shoulders, and vaulted again into the
saddle.  Not till then did he observe that a horseman had ridden up.
It was Mr. Blunt, looking a splendid figure as he sat in his saddle.
There was a look of pleasure on his face, and he rode right up to
Dudley's side.

"Hurt?" he asked curtly.  "No bones broken?  Then you are lucky.  I
saw everything.  I could have shouted as you rode at the corral, but
I knew that if I did so the beast you rode might have been startled,
and perhaps might have changed step at the jump.  That would have
meant perhaps a worse fall.  You were determined to do that jump,
lad?"

"Yes, sir, I'd rather have faced twenty falls than have been beaten,"
answered Dudley earnestly.

"Then you are the sort of help I want," came the swift answer.  "A
gaucho would think nothing of such a tumble, for the reason that he
has ridden since he was a child, and has been thrown so often that he
knows how to fall.  In nine cases out of ten, if thrown as you were,
he would have landed on his feet instead of on his back.  And he
would have taken his beast over the jump again, promptly and without
hesitation.  The gaucho is like you, lad, he doesn't like to be
beaten.  Now let us ride home together, while you tell me what you
have been doing and what you think of the rancho."

They turned their faces to the dwelling, now plainly seen in the
distance, for owing to the general flatness of the country objects
were in view a long distance away.  And as they rode Dudley recounted
how he had practised mounting and dismounting.

"Good!" said Mr. Blunt.  "I saw how you hopped into the saddle just
now, and I noticed some improvement.  But you must do better.  A
gaucho could mount his horse while the beast was cantering, and he
can lean from his saddle so as to pick a scarf from the ground while
going at a gallop.  But all in time.  Patience will help you to
conquer everything.  Tomorrow we will go out together, and it would
be as well to bring your revolver and ammunition.  We will have a
little practice."

When a week had passed, Dudley himself was pleased with his progress.
He now sat his horse as if he felt thoroughly at home, could steer
him with certainty over the roughest country, and was not afraid of
the biggest jumps.  Then, too, he had mounted another of the beasts
in the stable, a rough, ill-tempered animal, and had managed to cling
to his seat.  In short, he was progressing, and Mr. Blunt, who
watched him closely, congratulated himself that he had a young fellow
with him who would quickly prove of great value.

By then Pietro and the gauchos who had been left to bring up the
stores arrived; and the test which one of the number had proposed was
remembered.

"I repeat, Pietro," said the ill-favored individual who had scowled
at our hero, "I say that this gringo, who clambered into his saddle
as if into a bed, will not be able to hit the pith ball of a bolas at
thirty paces.  A revolver is the weapon, and if he fails, you give me
your rifle.  If he flukes the shot, then I make you a present of
mine, and lucky you will be, for it is a grand weapon."

"_Buenos_, the gun is mine," came the laughing answer, an answer
which caused the gaucho to grind his teeth.  "Giono, I am a judge of
people, and I back this gringo.  He is not so green as you think, and
he will hit the ball.  I will add something more."

"Then you will lose.  No, Pietro, I am an honest man and will not rob
you.  Let him win the rifle for you.  Pah!  Not green, do you say?
That is his manner.  These English stamp about as if the world were
theirs and they the best on it."

He went off to his quarters in an evil mood, casting a scowling
glance at Dudley as he passed him.




CHAPTER V

SHOWING HIS METTLE

There was a calm air of self-possession about Dudley Compton as he
stood in front of the rancho building on the following morning, his
native saddle at his feet and his gun across his shoulder.  For he
had every reason to be pleased with the way in which his fortunes
were progressing.  He had worked hard, till every bone in his body
ached, and till his knees were chafed and raw.  He had persevered
until even the exacting Mr. Blunt was favorably impressed with his
riding.

"Few would consider him to be a gringo now," reflected his employer,
as he watched his young friend out of the tail of his eye.  "He is
well set up, carries his new clothes as if he had been born in them,
and can get about as if spurs had grown on his heels as a natural
appendage.  He ought to do well.  The gauchos view him with favor,
except that fellow Giono.  I don't like the man, and never have.
There is something mysterious about him.  However, there he is, and
Dudley must go through the trial they have arranged for him, for
trial there will be as sure as I stand here.  A gringo must always be
tested."

A few minutes later a dozen of the gauchos employed on the estancia
came round the corner of the building, and strode up to our hero.
They were a rough but a good-looking and pleasant lot of men.  All
were dressed in the same sort of costume as Dudley wore.  They
carried revolvers at their hips, and hunting knives in their belts,
and some of them had a coil of rope, with the bolas attached, slung
over the shoulder.  As they looked at the young Englishman, all save
one were bound to confess that he was a fine-looking fellow.

"He will be one of us, surely," said Pietro, their leader, beneath
his breath.  "He may be a gringo, but he is not soft; that I will
swear.  Now, Giono, you can take a better look at the señor.  Does
the arrangement still hold?"

Giono, who was taller than his companions, was a raw-boned, dusky
individual, with deep-set eyes and a protruding lower jaw, which gave
him the appearance of being vindictive.  He was a surly, silent
fellow, and was known by his comrades to be somewhat short-tempered.
This was an evil reputation to have amongst gauchos, a class of men
who were exceedingly polite to one another whenever possible, though
at other times they had violent and bitter quarrels.  Dudley did not
know them yet, but those who worked with them could tell how these
fine horsemen of the pampas, with their strain of Spanish blood,
could be as tender as women to one another, and then would draw their
knives and engage in conflicts which too often resulted in the death
of more than one of the combatants.  In short, they cultivated a
native politeness for the simple reason that ungainliness and a surly
manner led to trouble, and a man, however pugnacious, could not be
forever fighting, or hope always to be victorious.

"Pietro is thinking tenderly of his gun," was Giono's harsh rejoinder
as he scowled at Dudley.  "He wishes to make excuses for this English
pup.  Good!  I am willing to accept a fine of some sort.  Give me a
hunting knife, Pietro, and we will cry quits.  But is it not a pity?
This señor stands as if he owned the ground on which his heels rest,
and lets all the world see his revolver.  If he carries one, surely
he can shoot, or else why have the weapon?"

"_Bueno_!  You will have the match," was the answer, given very
suavely, for Pietro knew the man with whom he had to deal, and he had
no wish to experience his rough temper.  "Good, Giono, we will speak
to the señor.  As to the rifle, it is yours if you can win it.  I
have no fears of our gringo.  Señor," he said, coming up to Dudley,
"Señor, we have had a little discussion amongst ourselves, and I, who
think I know a man when I see him, have boasted that you can shoot.
We hear that you have courage, for you have saved our master.  Now we
wish to see whether you can use your revolver.  Giono here declares
that you are a novice.  He is even risking his rifle, to show that he
considers himself a better judge than I am."

"To show that he is sure of his statement," growled the gaucho,
striding up to the two, and towering over Dudley as if he would
impress him with his superior proportions.  "I said that a gringo was
always a gringo; that because he could scramble on to a saddle he was
not therefore a horseman, nor without fear of horses.  As to the
revolver, why, there are men, and boys too, to be found who carry
them to gain a fine appearance.  You understand?  A boy feels grand
when decked up in the clothes of a gaucho."

The man's words were uttered in a loud, coarse voice and there was
not the slightest doubt as to his unfriendly intentions.  He was a
taciturn, surly fellow, governed by caprice, and apt to take sudden
and strong dislikes which often were simply the outcome of childish
jealousy.  From his youngest days he had always made a point of
falling foul of men who were obviously his betters, or who were more
favored than he.  Even Mr. Blunt was an eyesore to him, for was he
not a wealthy man?  But his dislike there was cloaked to some extent,
for a gaucho must live, and an employer found the wages.  Here,
however, there was a difference.  Why should he, Giono, the biggest
and the most feared of the gauchos, knuckle down to this young
Englishman, with his smooth, beardless face, who had come undoubtedly
with the object of helping Mr. Blunt and becoming a second master?
No, there was nothing to fear in this case, and if he could terrorize
and upset the dignity of this gringo, why, all the better.

"You understand?  The butt of a big revolver, and the bigger it is
the better, is a fine thing to have sticking from one's pocket.  Fine
clothes make fine birds, they say, and so they do up to a point.
That's the point we've come to.  Fine togs such as you have don't
help a gringo to shoot, no more than do big spurs help him to ride."

Dudley felt like replying to these boastful words, but he restrained
himself, and turning to Pietro said: "It is good of you to support
me, and I fear that you have been rather rash.  But let me remind you
that, though you have told me what you two are to give to each other,
you have not yet let me know what you expect of me."

"When you hear you will be sure of his rashness," burst in Giono.
"The task is this, I say that you will not hit the pith ball of a
bolas placed on a fence thirty paces away.  Here is a bolas, and here
the pith ball."

He turned to one of his companions and dragged the coil of rope from
his shoulders with rough lack of ceremony.  Dudley had seen the
implement before, and did not need to look.  This bolas is one of the
most useful possessions of the gauchos and of the Indians, for it is
to them what the lasso in more northern parts is to the cowboy.  But
it differs somewhat in construction, for, whereas the lasso consists
of a long coil of rope with a slip noose at the end, the bolas has no
noose.  One end has three tails of rope attached to it, and at the
ends of two of these is secured a heavy stone or a piece of lead or
iron.  To the third is attached a lighter ball made of pith.

"See," cried Giono, "that is the mark, a mark which I could hit with
my left hand, or when standing on my head.  I say that you will not
hit it under the most favorable circumstances."

Force of habit caused him to hang the coil over his left palm, while
he gripped the pith ball with his right hand and swung the leaden
balls about his head till they whizzed through the air.  For this was
the way in which the gauchos wielded what was an instrument of great
value, and at times a dangerous weapon to their enemies.  They would
gallop at headlong pace across the pampas, swing the bolas, and
launch it at a horse or cow they desired to capture, and with such
unerring aim that the balls would fly straight for the legs of the
animal, and in a moment the rope or the plaited thongs to which they
were made fast would be hopelessly twined round the limbs.

"Perhaps the English señor will tell us that he is able to cast the
bolas," sang out Giono, mistaking Dudley's silence for weakness, and
imagining that, now that he knew the task expected of him, he was
anxious to withdraw.  "Perhaps he would prefer to have another wager
laid on the throwing of the bolas."

There was a sneer in the man's voice, and an insolent, browbeating
manner about him which made Pietro's eyes blaze, for he had taken a
fancy to Dudley, while the latter had some difficulty in restraining
his own warm temper.

"Thank you," he answered with composure, his common sense telling him
that it was this man's aim and object to rouse him, and therefore his
own to keep unusually cool.  "I would rather shoot, for I confess
that I have never used the bolas.  I think I may be able to use this
big revolver which has attracted your notice.  And now the task.  I
have to hit the pith ball, and so have you.  There will be no
difficulty for you, for you tell us that you could strike it even if
standing on your head.  Afterwards we will try a shot at the pith
ball as it flies in the air.  Our friend Pietro shall take the bolas
over there and cast it at the trunk of the tree nearest the well.
You and I will take post twenty paces from the well, and fire as the
ball passes."

It was a daring thing to suggest, and the very mention of it made the
gauchos breathe deeply and mutter their astonishment.  As for Giono,
he looked at Dudley as if he thought he were mad.  The task was a
most difficult one, and, moreover, required a great deal of practice,
and this he had not had.  Again, a man ought to be in the pink of
health and wonderfully steady to have even a chance of success; and
in his case a visit to the river port and a few days idleness had not
helped to smooth his nerves.  He was a gambler, and the saloons had
seen not a little of this surly gaucho.  However, the challenge was
issued by a gringo, and if he, Giono, failed, so surely would this
English boy.  He could afford to be amused.  He roared with laughter,
and tossed his hat into the air, while his eyes closely inspected
Dudley's gun.

"Now," interrupted Dudley, "let us carry out the tests.  As Pietro is
interested in this matter, I suggest that one of his friends acts as
umpire for him, while one may care to do the same for me.  That fence
round the corral ought to suit very well for our mark."

He had been carefully watching the faces of the men up till now, but
once the arrangements were made he turned from Giono, looked at the
corral, and, noticing the height of the rails, decided that it would
do.  Then he led the way in that direction, and in a few minutes the
whole party were in position, one of the gauchos having detached a
pith ball meanwhile and placed it on the rail, while a comrade
carefully paced the distance from it.  It was time for the contest to
begin, and Dudley nodded to his opponent very coolly.

A few minutes before he had been feeling somewhat ruffled and annoyed
by the obvious hostility of Giono; but now he had regained his
composure and felt steadied.  More than that, he was confident, for
he knew what the gauchos were ignorant of.  He had had abundant
practice with a revolver on the voyage out, and had won unstinted
praise from Mr. Blunt; for the lad had a quick eye and a happy knack
with his hand.  He was not quick at drawing his weapon; that was a
thing requiring practice, and he had had but very little since he had
donned his leggings and had worn the revolver in his hip pocket.  But
he could hit a small object with unerring accuracy, and he believed
that he could strike the ball of the bolas as it flew in the air.  At
any rate he had done so more than once in the past week when away on
the pampas.

"Perhaps you would care for the first shot," he said politely.  "Just
to encourage a gringo."

"I will shoot first for that reason," came the answer.  "You shall
shoot at the flying target before I make the attempt, and--and----"

"Yes, I am listening."

"Perhaps the señor would care to have it that three shots are allowed
in each case.  It will give him a better chance.  I am satisfied."

The man's attitude was mending.  He had even addressed Dudley as
señor.  He was not so confident as before.  He was weakening, and a
grin passed amongst the gauchos.

"If one shot suits you, it suits me also.  If you desire three, let
there be three."

Dudley gave the gaucho no opening, and with a growl of disgust, and a
laugh which did not deceive the lookers-on, Giono decided that three
shots should be allowed at the flying target.

"Well and good.  Then shoot," exclaimed Pietro, his eyes flashing,
with excitement.

"Come, Giono, there is the mark, and you shoot first," said the man
who had measured the distance.  "Here is the line.  Take your post."

They watched eagerly and almost breathlessly as the gaucho toed the
line scratched in the earth with the rowel of a spur.  For there was
something out of the ordinary in this contest.  Gringos had been
tried before many a time, and failed almost without exception.  But
there was something different here, something which the gauchos could
not fathom.  They knew little or nothing of this gringo, but his
self-assurance impressed them.  It had already made Giono feel a
little uncertain, though he tried to think that there was no danger.

"Bah," he said, as he went to the line, "it is another of these
cocksure pups from Europe, only this one has a bigger head than the
rest!  There is more swelling in it.  The friendship of our employer
has puffed him out.  We shall see."

He drew his revolver, lifted it, and fired, smashing the pith ball
into a number of pieces.

"Good!  I could do that when a child," he boasted.  "Shall I fire the
other shot for the señor?"

"Thanks, no!  If you will kindly stand fast where you are I will
shoot from here.  It is a little farther, and perhaps more difficult."

Another mark had been hastily placed in position, and, seeing that
all was clear, Dudley, who happened to be some ten paces behind and
to the left of Giono, drew his weapon, and in a flash the ball was
splintered, a feat which brought a shout of delight from the gauchos,
while Giono paled under his dusky mud-colored skin, and swore beneath
his breath.

"One to us, señor!" sang out Pietro.  "The gun which Giono promised
is mine, or yours, if you wish to have it.  Now for the other part.
Give me a bolas, and I will take up my station.  Better still, let me
have six of the coils, then I can cast them without waiting.  Let all
the rest stand behind the firers.  Come, comrades, time is getting
along."

He took six of the bolas and went off with a swagger which he had not
possessed five minutes before.  And a gallant fellow he looked as he
strode away, for an open kindly face was not Pietro's only
possession.  He was some forty years of age, short and lithe, but for
all that powerfully built.  It was said of him that where all were
experts with the bolas, and where all could ride from infancy and as
if part of the horse, this Pietro could excel them all.  He knew the
life of the pampas, and he knew his fellow men.  This foreman of the
hands employed on the rancho was a good friend to Mr. Blunt, the
partisan of the weaklings, and a man who loved fair play.  He went to
his station with the thongs of the bolas trailing out behind him, and
with the fringes of his leggings fluttering in the breeze.  Dudley
and the others sauntered over towards the well, the men looking
askance at Giono, while Dudley kept a cautious eye upon him.

"An ugly-looking beggar," he said to himself, "and boasts too much to
like being beaten.  I'll wager he's considering whether he shall not
shoot me instead of the ball.  Very well, my fine gentleman, I'll
take rather more than good care to keep you in full view and well in
front.  Fellows have been shot in the back before now, and accidents
will happen."

He watched the man as he fingered his revolver, and slipped his own
into his pocket; but he was careful to keep the group of gauchos
between him and Giono.

"He is angry," one of them whispered cautiously.  "Giono is never
beaten, or rather no man ever lives who defeats him.  Better to let
him win, señor.  He is a bad enemy.  He has killed many men."

"But he won't hurt me if I can help it," answered Dudley doggedly.
"We'll see about this killing.  But thanks, my friend, for your
warning."

By now Pietro was in position, and could be seen with the bundle of
bolas at his feet and one swishing in the air over his head.  He was
an expert thrower, and knew that he could cast the long plaited thong
with such skill as to make certain of striking the tree beside the
well.  The leaden balls swinging in the air would fly direct, while
the lighter one would drag behind.  To attempt to strike it with a
single bullet seemed madness, and yet it was not an impossible feat
to a man with a quick eye and ready hand and one who knew his weapon.
The man who had knack and steadiness might succeed, for the cast was
a long one, and by the time the bolas reached a point opposite the
group it would have lost a considerable amount of its momentum.  Then
it would pass by a little more than twenty feet away, making a
correct aim less difficult than at first seemed possible.  Still,
when all was said in favor of the task, it was difficult enough, and
raised doubts in the minds of both competitors.  However, a faint
heart would serve but badly, and Dudley entered upon this part of the
contest with the same coolness and calm self-possession which had
already roused the ire and jealousy of his opponent.

"My turn first, I think," he said easily.  "Giono, will you have
Pietro cast as a trial, so that we may judge this distance, or will
you have me shoot at the first cast?"

"The latter.  I had no trial before, let us have the same treatment
now.  Hit the mark if you can, I will stand here and give you three
shots.  When you have failed, I will show you how the thing is done."

Dudley nodded his thanks.  "Now, Pietro," he shouted, "cast!"

He stood watching the gaucho closely as he swung the bolas over his
head, and slowly drawing his revolver, put it at full cock.  It was
the weapon which the passengers aboard the ship on the outward voyage
had presented to him, and for the moment he nursed the barrel on his
left forearm.  It was a handy little weapon, throwing a moderately
heavy bullet and using a very moderate charge, so that the "kick" was
not very pronounced.  Thanks to the amount of practice which he had
had, Dudley had learnt to counteract what jar there was, and there
was not the slightest doubt that he had become a first-rate shot.

"Ready, señor?" shouted Pietro.

Dudley nodded as he watched the bolas.  The leaden balls made a dark
and continuous circle about the head of the gaucho, while the hum
even could be heard.  Then of a sudden the circle disappeared, and
the leaden balls, with their long serpent of hide, came shooting out
towards the well.  The sun, standing moderately high in the heavens
behind, shone on the white pith ball, making it a splendid mark.  In
two seconds it had covered half the distance between the thrower and
the tree, but still Dudley nursed the barrel of his weapon, while the
gauchos kept their eyes fixed on the pith ball.  Another second and
the pith flew opposite Dudley, its pace already retarded.  Giono, who
watched him like a cat, saw the young Englishman lift his weapon like
a flash, and, without pausing to look along the sights, pull the
trigger firmly.  He gave a howl of delight, a howl which set the
echoes ringing and brought Mr. Blunt to the door of the house.  For
it seemed that the shot had missed.  They heard its scream as it
buzzed through the air, and they still saw the pith ball.  But all
but Giono had noted a curious fact.  A chip of white had started from
the ball, and for an instant only the course of the ball had been
deflected; then it flew on as before for some few yards, when it
burst asunder and dropped in small pieces to the ground, leaving its
own particular thong to go on without it.

It was Dudley's turn to shout, his and those who supported him, and
it might be truly said that all the gauchos present, save Giono
alone, were in his favor.  He swept his hat from his head, pocketed
his weapon, and turned to his opponent, while the air rang with the
shouts of the gauchos.

"Your shot, señor," he said.  "Three are allowed.  I have made mine,
and have struck the object.  Attempt the same yourself."

He was beaten.  Giono knew well that the young Englishman had the
better of the argument, and at the thought his sallow face went red
with anger.  He strode to the front, shouted to Pietro to make ready,
and swept his weapon from his pocket, where he had placed it while
Dudley fired.  Then some idea seemed to strike him.  He turned upon
the group with a snarl, a snarl which quieted their shouts, and
strode back towards Dudley with a lowering look on his face.

"You say one shot is enough for you," he growled.  "It would be, if
you were honest.  But we all know that Pietro is your firm friend.
What is easier than for him to have broken the ball?  He crushed it
with his hand, and it was that which caused the pith to break
asunder.  It is an arrangement between you.  You are attempting to
rob me!"

The man was impossible.  He was one of those pugnacious individuals
who must always quarrel.  In addition, unknown to Dudley, he was one
of the browbeating kind, accustomed to have his own way whatever
happened.  He was defeated hopelessly, he told himself, and there was
only one course to pursue.  He must accuse his opponent of cheating
and turn his weapon on him, a common enough occurrence in those wild
and lawless parts.

"Yes, it was arranged," he shouted.  "You and Pietro agreed to cheat."

The man's finger played with his trigger, he scowled round at the
gauchos, hesitated a moment, and then deliberately lifted his weapon;
but he never got it to Dudley's head.

"You will please to lower your arm," suddenly commanded a stern
voice, and, swinging round, Dudley found Mr. Blunt some five paces
away, his revolver covering the gaucho.  "Drop it, man; drop it
instantly, if you don't desire to have a hole through your head.
Good!  You are a scoundrel, and I have known it for some time.  Why I
have allowed you to stay I cannot imagine.  You are a ruffian, I
repeat, and if I shot you down all would thank me.  Go, take your
horse and ride.  If you are found within the bounds of the rancho
when the sun sets I will hang you without hesitation.  And listen!
Let this little affair teach you a lesson.  A lad is sometimes
smarter than a ruffian."




CHAPTER VI

OUT ON THE RANCHO

Giono was thoroughly beaten on his own ground, and cringed as Mr.
Blunt still directed his revolver at him.  The gaucho was by no means
wanting in courage, for he had inherited that as a gift natural to
all these wild men of the pampas.  But he could not face that muzzle,
nor the smiles and nudges of his comrades.  He dropped his own weapon
with an oath, scowled at Dudley, and turned from the group.  They saw
him swing away towards the back of the house, and presently he
appeared again mounted on a beautiful animal, which he reined back
with iron fingers till he was out of range of the pistol.  Then he
gave his temper full license.

"Listen, you, my late employer," he roared, shaking a quivering fist
at Mr. Blunt.  "Listen, you, I say.  You shall regret your action.  I
will make you call the day an evil one when you brought that English
cub with you, and I give you warning.  Giono does not knuckle down to
men such as you are.  I will shoot you and the pup you have engaged
when the first chance comes."

He shook his fist again, scowling at Mr. Blunt and Dudley, then he
dug the huge rowels of his cruel spurs into the flanks of his beast,
swung him round with a powerful wrench of the arm, and went off at a
mad gallop, the heels of the poor animal kicking dust and earth far
up behind it.

"I expected every word," said Mr. Blunt quietly.  "I could have told
beforehand what that gentleman was about to say.  Threats do no
damage, Dudley, but with a ruffian such as he is they put one on
one's guard.  My men, you will break into threes, take your arms, and
follow that late comrade of yours till you have seen him off the
rancho.  After to-day the man who first catches sight of him on the
place has my authority to shoot him instantly."

He waved his hand to the men and watched as they ran to the stable,
and very soon they were streaming away in threes, each little party
separating and galloping in the wake of Giono.

"He will not rest till he has put miles between himself and our
friends," said Mr. Blunt when they were gone.  "We shall see no more
of him, I hope; but don't forget his warning, my lad.  This is a
rough country, we are out of reach of police and soldiers, and a
ruffian has to be put down by those who are disposed to live a decent
life.  If you ever see him, do as I have commanded the men.  Don't
hesitate, for if you do you will have no second chance.  He will see
well to that.

"Now we will make a round of the rancho.  It is some time since I saw
the cattle, and it is always well for an owner to inspect the work of
his men.  Get Francia to put up some food for us, bring your gun and
your rifle, and don't forget a blanket and a poncho."

They went to the house to make their preparations, and within a
little while the two were cantering away, a saddle bag well filled
with food slung to each saddle, a canvas sack overflowing with water
to balance it on the far side, and behind the cantle a mound composed
of a thick blanket and the inevitable poncho.  Dudley had by now
ridden all over the rancho, and had obtained some insight into the
work the gauchos performed.  He had also received the impression that
Mr. Blunt must be a prosperous farmer or grazier, for none of the
land was tilled, and numerous herds of cattle pointed to his wealth.

"There are some fifteen thousand beasts," was the answer to his
enquiry on that point, "and for six weeks now the gauchos have been
busy branding the calves.  Of course we make no attempt to keep stray
animals from making out of the rancho, for that would be a hopeless
task.  Certain men are always stationed on the borders, and if they
see a herd on the point of leaving they turn them back.  The single
ones, and occasionally a score or more of beasts, wander at night,
when they have been disturbed by some unusual noise, and they, of
course, are lost.  Perhaps they stray back again, or others come from
the neighboring rancho.  In any case such a loss is nothing.  There
is always a small exchange of beasts going on at the borders."

"But supposing branded animals stray?" asked Dudley.  "What happens
to them?"

"That depends on the neighbors who find them," was the answer.  "Due
west of us there is merely open pampas, with no living owner, and
there I keep a very particular watch, for Indians hold the country.
Elsewhere branded beasts which wander are driven back when it is
convenient, while my gauchos do the same with neighbors' animals.  In
the end we are all satisfied, and of course the knowledge that beasts
will stray makes us extra careful about the branding.  I am making
for the far western corner of the rancho, where there is a big herd
surrounded by gauchos, and where branding is now going on as fast as
possible.  You will see something to open your eyes."

The sight which Dudley saw when late that evening they arrived on the
western border of the rancho was indeed a novel and most interesting
one.  There were some fifty gauchos in all, widely separated, and
broken up into twos.  Of these groups of two, one man was always
mounted, while at the hour at which they arrived the gaucho off duty
for the time had strayed from his comrade to those nearest at hand,
and had now squatted over a fire of thistle tops, smoking and eating.

"That is how the herd is watched," explained Mr. Blunt.  "The men
must have rest, for night and day the watch must be kept.  So two of
them take turn and turn about, and when one is off duty getting a
rest and food, or a sleep, his horse is enjoying the same privileges.
We will rest here, and I will show you how to bivouac for the night.
Hop off your mount, and strip saddle and bridle from it.  That's the
way.  Now take the rope attached to the halter, and hobble its fore
legs as I have already shown you how to do."

Dudley slid from his saddle in a manner which showed that he was used
to the work, and in a very few seconds had stripped the beast of all
its gear save the head stall, the rope attached to which was used for
hobbling.  Then he gave the horse a vigorous smack on the flank, and
sent it away to graze and rest till morning.

"Now put your saddle up on the cantle.  So!  That's the way.  It will
not fall over easily, and you will see that the pads which protect
the horse's back from chafing are well exposed, and have every chance
to dry, for in this climate they are nearly always moist after a
ride.  Now your poncho goes into the hollow between the pads and
flaps, your head finds it a wonderfully comfortable pillow, while the
blanket over all makes things snug and warm for the night."

To show him how it was done, Mr. Blunt placed his own saddle in
position, and threw himself down on the ground, drawing his blanket
about him, and placing his head on the poncho between the flaps of
the saddle.

"Your saddle keeps the wind away on a breezy night," he explained,
"and is close at hand in case you happen to want it.  If it rains, as
is not often the case, you hang the blanket over the cantle, and
there you are, under a tent which will keep you fairly dry.  Now,
Dudley, skip along and gather some thistle tops.  There is little
wood in these parts, and so one has to find a substitute.  Look at
the men.  I rather fancy Pietro and his comrades have been talking."

That, in fact, was the case, and as the two were seen cantering up
towards the herd of cattle and their guards, quite a number of the
men made their way forward to meet them.  They nodded to their
master, and looked on critically as our herb slipped from his saddle.

"As if he'd done it before," said one, a big fellow with long black
hair and a melancholy way about him.  "Fresh and young, comrades, and
new to the pampas.  You can see he does not mind being told how
things are done.  What was the story Pietro was telling?"

A comrade repeated it, and at once the gaucho strode up to the young
Englishman as he was gathering thistle tops.  When Dudley glanced up,
there was the gaucho, still with the same melancholy air, his head
hanging forward, and one huge brown palm stretched in front.  He
shook it, and, interpreting the signal, Dudley stepped up, gripped
the strong fingers, and shook them with vigor.

"We're friends, I see," he said quietly, for he seemed to feel at
once that the big gaucho wished to be pleasant.  "It's kind of you to
come."

"I'm foreman out here, and I thought I'd like to show you that all
are not like Giono.  Señor, you are welcome!  All my comrades are
glad to see you.  I bear a message from them.  They ask you to repeat
the shot you made this morning."

"I'll try," was the ready answer.  "When it is light enough
to-morrow, I'll do my best to please you."

They nodded to one another, and our hero returned to his employer
with a bundle of thistle tops under his arm.  In a few seconds the
flames were shooting up, and in a little while the two were seated by
them, each with a ramrod in his hand, and a fine steak of deer flesh
on the far end.  It was all so new to Dudley, and he found this
open-air life most fascinating.  He could see now why Mr. Blunt loved
it, why he declared that he was free out on the pampas, and why a man
could be a man when living such a life.

"Even the food we cook out here is sweeter to me," exclaimed Mr.
Blunt, as they chatted after their meal.  "I would not change the
dinner we prepare for the daintiest repast to be had in London or in
Paris.  As to the sleeping accommodation, well, you yourself will
appreciate the difference when once we get back to the house.  Here
one breathes pure air, the invigorating breath of the pampas.  A
house stifles me at first.  I feel as if the ceiling were falling on
to me."

Half an hour later they turned in, and Dudley found that his
unaccustomed bed was more than comfortable.  On Mr. Blunt's advice he
kicked a hollow in the ground to accommodate his hips, and on
stretching himself out, and pulling the blanket over him, he found
that he had a couch at which the most fastidious could not have
grumbled.  On either side of his head were the flaps of his saddle,
but up above there was nothing to shut him in, and for a while he
stared up at the brilliant stars, while he listened to the strange
sounds of the pampas.  Now and again there was a low call from one
watching gaucho to another, and then perhaps the deep lowing of
cattle.  Sometimes the earth trembled for a few seconds with the
stamping of a hundred feet, and then all was silent, save for the
chirrup of the crickets.  He fell into a deep sleep, and only stirred
when the sun shone in his eyes in the early morning.  Mr. Blunt was
already afoot, tending to the kettle steaming over the fire, while at
various points, around the enormous herd of beasts, groups of
gauchos, still swathed in their blankets, squatted over the fires and
discussed their breakfasts.  As for the cattle, they seemed to be in
a restless mood, and kept their guards galloping to and fro, cracking
their long whips and shouting.  Indeed, less than ten minutes later,
as Dudley and his friend were eating their meal, the noise from the
herd became deafening.  Every animal seemed to be bellowing, there
was much movement in the far corner of the group, and then of a
sudden the animals broke away.  Men shouted, whips snapped like
pistols, and in a trice, as if the word had been passed through the
heaving ranks, some two thousand bullocks, heifers, and calves were
charging down upon the two who crouched over the fire.  The sight
brought Mr. Blunt and Dudley to their feet promptly.

"They have broken away!" exclaimed the former quickly.  "They do
sometimes, and give a great deal of trouble, besides being a positive
danger.  Stay where you are, my lad.  The horses are too far for us
to reach them, and it is useless to run."

They stood watching the herd anxiously, hoping that the gauchos, all
of whom had rushed to their horses, would be able to check the
beasts.  The men threw themselves on the flank of the herd with
vigor, and sent their stinging lashes trailing over the beasts, while
they shouted and shrieked so as to frighten them and get them to move
in the opposite direction.  But they might almost as well have hoped
to move a mountain.  The mass of beasts had taken a sudden and
unaccountable fright, and bore down upon Dudley and Mr. Blunt with
all their force and speed.

"Get your gun and load quickly," said Mr. Blunt.  "And get the flap
of your revolver pocket open.  Those beasts must be stopped, or they
will gallop over us and trample us to death.  Don't attempt to run,
Dudley.  You would certainly be caught.  Our only chance is to back
up the efforts of the gauchos, and stand firm.  Let the brutes have a
couple of charges full in their faces when they get into range.  That
will give you time to load again and repeat the dose."

There was little time for talking, for already the maddened herd was
almost within range of the shotgun.  For a few seconds Dudley had
contemplated flight, and made ready to follow his employer should he
run.  But seeing that he proposed to stand fast, he loaded his gun,
opened the flap of his holster, and faced the herd.  It was a
terrifying spectacle, and it wanted no experience to tell him that if
the beasts were not stopped they would stamp everything in their path
flat with the ground.  He felt his pulses throbbing wildly, while a
bead of perspiration collected in the furrow on his forehead and
trickled down his cheek.  The time for action had arrived.  He lifted
his gun, aimed at the far right of the herd, and pressed the two
triggers, one after the other, sending a hail of pellets into the
faces of the animals.  But he might have fired peas for all the
effect the shots had.  A few beasts on the far flank swerved away
into the open, and came to a halt, as if wondering what all the
commotion was about.  But the remainder galloped madly on, as if they
saw the two solitary figures standing before them and had made up
their minds to annihilate them.

"Again!" said Mr. Blunt quietly.  "Give them another charge, lad."

Crash!  Bang!  This time the range was much closer, and though the
shot did not separate so much, they struck the animals on the right
with far greater force.  One, a massive beast, received a portion of
one charge full in the face, and it may have happened that one of the
pellets reached the brain by way of the eye.  In any case the
ponderous animal fell on his horns, crumpled up, and rolled over and
over, while two near at hand rose for a moment into the air and
bellowed with pain.  A second later a score of the beasts had poured
over the prostrate animal, had tripped, recovered their feet, and
tripped again.  Fifty almost were down, and their startled bellows
seemed to scare the remainder of the herd.  They swept in one dense
mass to the left, three of the gauchos galloping for their lives in
front of them, while those on the right flank came thundering over
the pampas, kicking their heels within six feet of Dudley and his
employer.

"Phew!  That was the nearest shave I have ever had," exclaimed Mr.
Blunt, lifting his hat and wiping the perspiration from his brow.  "I
thought it was all up with us, and was preparing to make a desperate
leap on to the back of the nearest beast, for I have known one man to
escape in that way.  Then your lucky shot set the matter right.  Lad,
you did well again.  How did you feel?  Inclined to bolt?"

"Never in a bigger funk in all my life, sir," came the candid answer,
and indeed Dudley was shaking with excitement.  "I expected to be
smashed into a jelly, and can't believe now that they have run past
us.  The life of a gaucho is not all honey after all.  I suppose many
are killed in this way?"

"Scores have been trampled to death, and many are gored by bulls, or
have their backs broken by a bucking horse.  Then they are very apt
to quarrel, and the Spanish blood they have leads them to let their
tempers loose and draw their knives.  Yes, the gaucho seldom lives to
an old age.  I like him.  He is honest, hearty, and a good worker,
and he has pluck.  But let us enquire as to damages.  There will be
little branding to-day, Dudley.  It will be three hours before the
herd is rounded up again."

They returned to their camp, still congratulating themselves on their
fortunate escape.  It took but a few minutes to fetch their horses,
which had not been stampeded like many of the others, and in a little
while they were off, cantering away across the pampas.

"We will go on into the Indian country," said Mr. Blunt.  "There are
often herds of wild horses there, and if we are lucky enough to spy
one, we will bring a party out to round them up.  We don't do a great
deal of breeding on the rancho; Indian raids make that such a
profitless game.  We rely on the wild animals always roaming the
pampas."

It was a glorious day, with a bright sun and a mild breeze.  The
scent of wild grasses was in the air, while one huge vista of pampas
swept before the eye, with a few clumps of trees away in the
distance, for Dudley was in the middle of one of those vast plains of
South America famed to this day as grazing lands for cattle, and then
the home of herds of wild beasts, including cattle, horses, and deer
of many descriptions.  In addition there were the Indians, an
ever-present danger to the settler.  It was not long before the two
horsemen arrived at one of the collections of trees, and, skirting
this, they mounted a rise in the land till they were near the top.

"Our look-out station," said Mr. Blunt, sliding from his saddle and
leaving the beast to graze.  "If I have sighted one herd of horses
from here I have sighted a dozen.  Creep to the top and look over.
One does not require to be so careful nor so cunning as if one were
dealing with Indians.  They would spot a head instantly, and then----"

"We should have a crowd down upon us," burst in Dudley.  "I'll
practise going carefully, as if there were real danger."

He too slid to the ground, and soon the two were close to the top.
They went on their faces, and, crouching close to the ground, slowly
made their way to the extreme summit.  Then, as if by common impulse,
they ducked, looked at each other, and gave low whistles of surprise.
Lucky it was for them, too, that they had had the caution to advance
so warily, for otherwise they would have been in a precarious
situation.  They were out in search of horses, and as they topped the
rise their eyes fell upon what they sought--a fine collection of some
twenty beasts, with flowing manes, and with such freedom of action as
they ran that Dudley was enchanted.  But there was something else
besides.  Not thirty paces away sat four men who were half-naked.
Their backs were turned to the top of the hill, and they were
watching the horses attentively.  The beasts were trotting towards
them, but when Dudley looked again they had halted, and stood with
heads in air, their ears pricked up, listening attentively, and now
and again breaking into a startled trot.  Mr. Blunt saw something
more, for he took Dudley by the sleeve and pulled the fringe of his
coat.  Then he pointed, and, following the direction, the young
Englishman beside him saw a number of specks in the distance.  They
were mounted men, slowly stealing up behind the horses.

"Come away.  Slip back again and mount."

Mr. Blunt hardly whispered the words, and promptly crawled away,
worming his long, lanky figure towards his horse.  Dudley followed
suit, rose to his feet, and vaulted into the saddle.

"Walk!" whispered his employer.  "Hush!  Not a sound."

They took their horses at a slow pace for some three hundred yards,
casting a glance behind them every few seconds.  Then Mr. Blunt
turned to Dudley.

"Are you ready for a fast ride?" he asked shortly.

Our hero shook his reins.  "Certainly, sir!" he said.  "Where to?"

"Back to the gauchos.  Gallop all you can, and bring them back.  I
don't want to attack the Indians, but I want to let them see that I
have plenty of men.  And more than that, they stole some two hundred
horses from me eight months ago.  I must have that herd down below,
and so retaliate.  It does not do to let the Indian have it all his
own way.  Off you go!"

"Alone, sir?"

"Yes, alone."

"And you, sir?"

"Alone, I said," came the curt answer.

Dudley swung his animal round, touched him ever so gently with the
rowel of his spur, and went off at a gallop.  He would have liked to
ask what his employer was going to do, and felt anxious about him and
disinclined to leave him alone.  But Mr. Blunt said what he meant.
He was a man of few words, as a rule, and those few were very much to
the point.  Dudley had to be contented with that, and with an
occasional glance behind him till the solitary figure was lost to
sight.

"Wanted to argue!" exclaimed Mr. Blunt, when he had gone, a little
smile on his lips.  "That chap's a sticker.  There are many men whom
I have met who would have bolted from those cattle, and would have
been rolled and stamped till they were as flat as sheets.  It's
trying work to stand and see a whole mass of heads and feet charging
down, and if he had bolted I could have forgiven him.  That chap's a
sticker, I say, and he's come out here with the same idea as
youngsters of his age and of our race have, wherever they be.  They
know it's right to stick to a friend, whatever the danger.  That's
why he doesn't fancy leaving me behind.  As if I were a chicken!"

He smiled grimly as he swung his long rifle round to the front,
opened the breech, and popped in a cartridge.  This man knew that the
time for shooting had not yet arrived, and he was not going to be
hurried.  He sat like a sentinel, the butt of his weapon at his hip,
and neither man nor horse moved.  And there Dudley and the thirty
gauchos he brought back with him found their employer.

"Good!" said Mr. Blunt.  "That number will scare the Indians.  Now,
boys," he went on, "I don't want to make bad blood, which means that
I don't want to kill any of these fellows.  All we want is to scare
them, and to drive them off.  They must have the horses rounded up by
now, and we will take them over.  The lesson will be a useful one.
Perhaps if we are successful, they will leave us alone for a time."

At a signal from him a group of the gauchos held in their horses,
while the remainder filed off in two lines, passing to left and to
right of the wood.  Then, having allowed them to gain some distance,
Mr. Blunt walked his horse up to the ridge and clambered to the top.
Ten minutes later there was a shout as one of the Indians below saw
the group of gauchos, a shout which was taken up in all directions.
For the Indians, some forty in number, had now come quite close to
the hillock, and had drawn in the circle which they had thrown about
the herd of horses.  Indeed, in a little while they would have been
at work with their bolas, or would have been driving the animals back
to their own country.  To be disturbed at such a moment must have
been galling in the extreme.  Cries and shouts of rage proceeded from
each man, and as Dudley came to the top of the ridge, and was fully
exposed, a shot rang out some fifty feet away.  The bullet shaved the
tip of his chin, drawing a thin line of blood, punched a neat little
piece out of his left ear, and one of larger size out of the brim of
his hat.  Then, having done its worst, it flew on into space, buzzing
and screeching as it went, for it was of native manufacture, all
angled and rough.

"You might have been shaving," laughed Mr. Blunt as Dudley felt his
chin with the tips of his fingers, and then touched his ear.  "A miss
is as good as a mile, my lad, and a shot like that will make you as
steady under fire on future occasions as the oldest soldier.  Hurt?"

"Not a bit, sir," came the ready answer.  "My word, that fellow must
have spotted me as I came over the top!"

"You may be sure of that.  He could have fired at one of the gauchos.
An Indian likes better to kill a white man.  But look at them
running.  They have seen the other parties."

The approach had been well timed, in fact, for hardly had the party
appeared on the crest when the others rode from either side of the
wood.  The Indians looked at first as if they would resist the
approach of the strangers, but, seeing their numbers, and having a
huge dislike to warfare in the open, they put spurs to their animals,
and, even as Dudley wiped the blood from his ear and chin, they went
galloping for their lives across the pampas.  Mr. Blunt at once waved
his hat over his head, and instantly the two parties below set their
horses at a fast gallop, and before the herd of frightened animals
below could disperse they had surrounded them.

"Better than I had hoped for," exclaimed Mr. Blunt.  "We will drive
the beasts back to the corral, and then you shall see some fun.  It
looks cruel, and in fact it is cruel, to break in these wild animals;
but we must have horses.  To-morrow we shall turn out the stallions
and mares, and select the best of the young horses."

An hour later the whole party was returning, the men spread widely
across the pampas, and enclosing in their circle the twenty or more
wild animals which the Indians had rounded up.  As dusk was falling
they rode over the boundary line of the rancho, and with dexterous
use of their whips, and by dint of much shouting and spurring,
managed to drive their catch into a huge corral, several of which had
been built at different parts of the estate.

"They will be secure there for the night, and we can leave them,"
said Mr. Blunt.  "Let us get our supper and turn in.  I don't think
we need fear another charge from the cattle, but if you are looking
for excitement to-morrow I fancy I can supply it.  Come along, lad!
We have had a grand day, one which you will not forget in a hurry,
for you have smelled powder, and tasted the bullet of one of our
Indians."

He laughed heartily as he slid to the ground, while Dudley carried
the fingers of one hand to his chin and ear.  The wounds smarted a
little, but nothing more, and very soon he had forgotten them as he
bustled about the fire.  In addition, his thoughts were distracted by
the recollection of the horses which they had captured, and by his
friend's promise of excitement on the morrow.




CHAPTER VII

AN INDIAN INVASION

The sun was shining brightly on the following morning as Dudley
stamped out the remains of the fire, for the gauchos and Mr. Blunt
had impressed upon him the need of great care in that respect.

"The grass flares at once," said Pietro, when warning him, "and I
have seen a gringo set the pampas on fire and have to ride for his
life.  Then scores of gauchos have had to gather, and for days
perhaps the battle has gone on between them and the flames.  The
señor must cut the grass in a circle always before lighting the
thistle tops, or he must choose a rocky place.  Then he must always
stamp out the embers, or the wind may carry a small portion, or
animals kick the hot ashes into the grass."

Dudley carefully followed out the directions given him, and then
sauntered off to the corral, carrying his huge spurs now with
absolute ease and comfort, and being, in fact, quite unconscious of
them.  He found the gauchos collecting in preparation for the day's
work, and as Mr. Blunt had not yet arrived, these men of the pampas
seized the opportunity of seeing for themselves what the newcomer
could do.

"There are no wagers this time, señor," said Pietro, standing beside
Dudley with an unconscious air of pride about him, as if it were he
who had introduced the latest gringo, and was responsible for his
actions and for his ability.  "The men have asked me how long you
have been in the country, and they can scarcely believe that you are
such a shot.  I have told them, and so have the comrades who looked
on, how you beat Giono.  But no; they cannot credit the statements."

"And I cannot blame them," came the answer.  "Of course it is funny
to find a gringo able to shoot.  But then you can let the gauchos
know that Mr. Blunt gave me heaps of practice on the voyage out.  I
suppose, too, that there are some fellows who get hold of a knack
quickly.  For instance, some men can ride almost at once, while
others can never manage a horse."

"That may be true in your country, señor, but not in this.  Here we
gauchos ride from infancy.  There was a time, no doubt, before the
Spaniards came, and introduced horses, when the Indian knew nothing
about riding.  But nowadays we never walk far.  Horses are cheap.  An
active man who can wield a bolas can always borrow a mount and go out
on the pampas to make a catch.  Then he has merely to break in the
animal.  I said that we ride from infancy.  I remember that the very
first time I ever mounted a horse was when I was tiny, and far too
small to reach his back in the ordinary way.  Fortunately he was a
quiet beast, for as he cropped the grass in front of my father's hut
I caught him by the tail, and with the help of a brother, as small as
myself, I swarmed up on to his quarters.  That, señor, was my first
attempt.  As to the knack of shooting, every gaucho can shoot, but it
is not all, or even many who have an eye and a hand such as yours.
The gift is a fine one; I wish I had it.  But the señor will do what
the men wish?"

"Certainly, I'll do my best.  That shot at the flying pith ball was
more or less of a fluke, but I might manage it again.  At any rate
I'll try."

He pulled his revolver from his pocket as the men gathered round, and
then stood nursing the barrel just as he had done on the previous
occasion.  Pietro himself threw the bolas as before, and to Dudley's
delight, and, to be honest, to his amazement, he had the good fortune
to strike the pith ball at the first shot and shatter it into a
hundred or more pieces.

"_Bueno_!  That is shooting, comrades," exclaimed the big,
melancholy-looking man who had shaken hands with him on the previous
day.  "The señor can shoot, and by all accounts he is brave and can
swim.  Who knows, perhaps he can ride also.  Whatever more he can do
he is certainly the best gringo we have ever seen.  Let the señor
take the advice of an old gaucho.  Let him learn to draw his weapon
swiftly.  Therein lies the secret of safety and of victory when
dealing with the rough men of the pampas.  Now we shall hope to show
him how we ride."

He went into the corral with a dozen of his comrades, Pietro being
amongst them, while Mr. Blunt came up to Dudley's side.  Together
they watched as the gauchos inspected the captive horses, their
trained eyes picking out the younger and more suitable animals.  As
for the poor beasts themselves, they were excessively wild, and now
that so many strange figures surrounded them they were almost mad
with terror, all save one grand animal, the father of the herd.  He
stood with head lifted and ears pricked up, his eyes blazing; and
presently, as the gauchos approached, he gave a snort of rage and
dashed at them.

"Watch and you will see some quick work and some fun," said Mr.
Blunt.  "If that wild fellow were to catch any of the men it would go
hard with them.  Look at them running."

The gauchos took to their heels as the big horse made for them, and,
separating as well as possible, they ran with all their speed to the
rail of the corral.  The majority reached it without incident, but it
happened that one of them, as he ran, tripped over the trailing thong
of his bolas, and went down with a crash.  He was up in another
second, but by then the beast was close at hand, and as Dudley
watched he saw it spin round on its fore legs, as if it were a top,
and lash out furiously with its heels.  The aim was so true, and the
manoeuvre so quickly carried out that it was wonderful that the
gaucho was not struck.  But he had not worked on the pampas for
nothing, and no doubt he had seen many a similar adventure.  Seeing
that he could not escape, he watched the pursuing horse, and as the
maddened brute twisted on its fore legs he threw himself on his face,
the heels swishing a foot over his back.  Then he rolled over and
over, sprang to his feet, and rushed on again, reaching the rail of
the corral as the horse came within striking distance again.

"He will be killed," shouted Dudley in his excitement.  "The brute
will kick the life out of him."

"He will escape.  Redos knows the game," was Mr. Blunt's calm
rejoinder.  "A new hand would attempt to clamber over; our friend
knows that that would be fatal."

The gaucho was, in fact, well able to take care of himself.  As the
horse twisted on its feet again he threw himself on the ground, and,
repeating his previous tactics, rolled under the rail into safety,
while the heels swished overhead and struck the rail with a clatter
to be heard all over the corral.

"They will eject that fellow as a first precaution," said Mr. Blunt.
"There goes the first bolas.  Pietro is not the lad to make a mess of
such a matter."

The gaucho to whom he had referred had taken his station on the
second rail of the corral, some little way to the left of the angry
horse, and could be seen swinging the two leaden balls of his bolas,
waiting for a favorable opportunity to cast.  It came in a few
seconds.  The beast still watched the man who had escaped, and, as he
moved towards Pietro, trotted along beside the corral fence, snorting
loudly, and eyeing him in no friendly manner.  Once, in fact, he
dashed open-mouthed in his direction, only to be brought up short by
the stout fence.  That was Pietro's opportunity, and he seized upon
it.  The balls swished overhead and suddenly darted forward.  Dudley
saw them separate, and in a moment they had twined round the neck and
fore legs of the horse, wrapping the plaited thongs so thoroughly
that escape was impossible.  But the beast could still use its legs,
and, startled by the blow of the balls, and by the thongs, it twisted
round and made off at a furious pace, plunging as it went.  But it
was not to go far.  Pietro had used his bolas before, and seeing that
his aim was good, he had at once taken a turn of the thong round one
of the posts, and a strong grip of the slack end, so that when the
horse came to the full extent of the line he could bring him up
short, and yet not so suddenly as to break the leather.  Crash!  The
big beast staggered, rose high in the air, and then fell backwards,
lashing with all four legs.  It was up again in an incredibly short
space of time, and then the same process was repeated.  It darted
away, was brought up with a jerk, and stood glaring about it, choking
with the pressure of the thongs.

"He has made his fight, and is done for," said Mr. Blunt.  "The men
will slip a leather noose into his mouth, and will so hobble his legs
with their bolas that he will be as helpless as a foal.  Then they
will drag him out of the corral.  It is absolutely necessary to do
that, for, as you see, he considers himself the guardian of the herd.
He would kick any other horse to pieces that dared come near his
flock out in the open, and here he would kill many of the gauchos if
he were not banished.  Look! there goes another bolas.  He will be
wound up so completely soon that he will have no more room for
astonishment."

Dudley could not help but admire the dexterity and the courage of the
gauchos.  They tackled the big horse with method, and before very
long had it completely at their command.  Then, choking still, and
half-stifled by a noose the grip of which could be increased at any
instant, they dragged it to the opening of the corral by means of the
thong passed over its chin, and with a quick movement set it free.  A
whip cracked behind it, and in an instant the noble brute was
careering away.  Half a dozen mares that were too old to be of any
use were quickly disposed of, the gauchos mounting their horses and
cutting them out from the herd.  And then the real work of the day
commenced.

"There are some who would let the beasts run wild in the corrals for
a month or so," said Mr. Blunt.  "But there is no object in delaying,
for they will be as wild and unruly then as they are now.  You will
see how we deal with them.  In a month they will be useful animals,
and as rideable as any we possess.  But the task of breaking them in
is no light one.  Men are specially selected for it, and receive so
much pay per animal; for it is dangerous work, and many gauchos are
killed at it."

Dudley could believe that when half an hour had passed, and he had
had an opportunity of seeing what actually occurred.

"The first thing is to get a halter on their heads, and a leather bit
in their mouths, señor," said Pietro, coming to his side.  "Then the
saddle must be fitted.  That troubles them more perhaps than does the
bit.  Look, now, at the young horse our friend is selecting."

The big gaucho who had shown his friendliness was striding about in
the corral, and eyeing the wild young horses there with the utmost
care.  Presently he selected a fine beast, well grown, and possessing
a large amount of bone and muscle.  It was as wild almost as the
first had been, but not quite so courageous, for it kept its distance
from these men.  However, it was gradually driven into a corner, and
then, finding its tormentors closing in, it swung round and galloped
past them.

"A fine shot, señor!  Our comrade can use the bolas," sang out
Pietro, as the tall gaucho swung his implement and flung it at the
heels of the horse.  In a moment the animal was down, its legs
entwined by the thongs, and as it lay there helplessly a halter was
placed over its head, and then a bit of strong but soft leather was
placed in its mouth.

"It would never do to use an iron one, señor," explained Pietro.
"That would be asking too much of a horse.  See how he frets now.
But he has worse to bear, and in a moment there will be a struggle."

Having safely placed the bit in position, the big gaucho knotted the
reins on the neck of the beast so that they would be ready to hand
when the moment came to mount.  Then he beckoned to a comrade, who
ran up with the saddle.  At the same moment three of the gauchos took
firm hold of the halter by means of the rope attached to it and
pulled till the animal was lying almost on its heels.

"On with the saddle," sang out their leader, and at the word the
flaps were dropped on either side.

"Now let go the heels."

The thongs which encircled its legs were carefully unwound, leaving
the horse free to rise.  But it lay for a few seconds, bewildered at
such unaccustomed treatment.  Then, feeling more freedom in its legs,
it rose to its feet with a jerk, and stood looking about, uncertain
how to act or where to run.  The big gaucho took instant advantage of
the delay.  Speaking in a soothing voice to the animal, he stepped
silently to its side, stretched under the belly, and made the girths
fast.  Then he placed a hand on the neck, unknotted the reins, and
leaped into the saddle with an agile bound.  The spell under which
the poor beast labored was broken instantly.  It staggered under the
weight for one brief second, and then rose on its hind legs till it
seemed that it would topple over.

"The real fight begins now," said Pietro, who still stood beside
Dudley.  "Our friend has work before him, for that is a strong young
horse, which will not give in without a struggle.  Ah, he has his
stirrups, and his feet are well home!  Our comrade is one of the best
of horse breakers."

Dudley watched the scene which followed with breathless interest, for
he had never seen its like.  He had heard of cowboys and their feats
of horsemanship, but had never conceived it possible that any man
could keep in his saddle as on this occasion.  For the horse was
maddened.  The load on his back terrified it, and for a quarter of an
hour it raged up and down the corral, rising on its heels, bucking,
and giving such enormous leaps that had it attempted the same close
to the rails it would have easily cleared them.  And all the while
the gaucho clung like a leech to it, while the cruel rowels of his
spurs struck the heaving flanks incessantly, till the blood trickled
from many a wound.

[Illustration: "ALL THE WHILE THE GAUCHO CLUNG LIKE A LEECH TO IT"]

"It is no time for soft measures, Dudley," said Mr. Blunt.  "It is
kinder to be harsh now, for once and all, than constantly to repeat
the cruelty.  That horse is getting beaten.  In a couple of hours he
will be docile.  How would you care to try your horsemanship?"

"Not at all," was the candid answer.  "I should be sprawling after
the first half-minute.  But you said he would be beaten in two hours.
Will he be able to go on plunging and bucking for such a time?"

"He might, but our object is to wind him.  The gaucho will take him
for a gallop and give him his head."

The time had apparently come for this portion of the breaking-in, and
a few moments later there was a warning shout from the struggling
gaucho, a number of the men lined up between the other horses and the
exit, and then the animal he rode was steered out of the corral.
Once outside there was nothing to limit its pace, and it set off at a
furious gallop, lashed into frenzy by the whip which the gaucho now
used, and smarting under the cruel rowels of the spurs.

"He will go miles," said Mr. Blunt, "and when he returns he will be
like a naughty schoolboy who has come to school for the first time
after being given free play at home.  He will have met with his first
master, and will be aching after his very first lesson.  In a week he
will be a likely horse, and in a month he will whinny a welcome to
the man who now treats him so harshly.  Let us go along the corral
and watch the other men."

Nearly a dozen other horses were meanwhile being roped in, and for
the next two hours Dudley watched the same process repeated, but with
variations.  Sometimes a horse had less spirit, and was beaten very
early, even consented to trot round the corral without attempting to
get rid of its rider.  But in every case, whatever the fight shown,
they were taken out of the corral for a long burst over the pampas.
Soon the first one was seen returning, limping over the grass, and
looking as if it could barely drag one leg after the other.  Indeed
the poor brute had been ridden to a finish, and could scarcely reach
the corral.  It was taken to one corner, the bit slipped from its
mouth and the saddle from its back.  At once it lay down on the
ground, disdaining the fresh grass placed beside it.

"He is hopelessly beaten and as tired as a dog," said Mr. Blunt.  "He
will lie there for twenty-four hours perhaps, and will not touch a
morsel of feed, nor any water.  Then he will recover, and our big
friend will be there to talk kindly to him, to encourage him, and to
comfort him with a bundle of sweet grass.  Now, what do you think of
our methods of taming horses?"

"They are utterly unlike any I had ever conceived.  They look very
cruel at first sight, but I can see that in the end it is better and
easier for the horse to be beaten outright, than to be subdued by a
series of attempts each one of which must terrify him.  It will be a
long time before I shall be able to ride like these gauchos."

"You are right there, lad, for one cannot pick up, even at your young
age, a thing with which these fine fellows may be said to grow up.
They are born riders, and they have need to be, for a bucking wild
horse is no easy beast to sit on.  Now we will return to the cattle
and watch the branding.  These are all things that I want you to
learn to do or to be able to criticize, for in a little while you
will be the agent in charge during my absence."

Two months later Dudley had become quite an old hand on the rancho,
and was by no means a gringo any longer.  Indeed, thanks to his
encounter with Giono, he had come to the gauchos employed by Mr.
Blunt with a strong and telling introduction, an introduction which
appealed to these wild men of the pampas far better than wealth would
have done.  They admired a man who could shoot and who had courage.
They liked to see a youngster conquer difficulties, and they had
watched Dudley as he gained no mean mastership over horses.  Then
they had seen him under fire, and had noted with what indifference he
treated his wound.

"He is a gringo who meets with our approval, and whom we can obey,"
said Pietro one night as the gauchos were collected round the fire.
"He has no airs and graces.  He is glad to meet each one of us, to
shake hands, and to chat.  He is different from some of the stuck-up
fools who come our way on occasion."

Thanks to the friendship of the gauchos, and to his own energy, our
hero very soon became of the greatest value to his employer, till at
length he was appointed his overseer, and had complete management of
the rancho.

"It gives you a good deal of responsibility, which is a thing which
every lad ought to be able to take, and it also lets the men see that
I have confidence in you," said Mr. Blunt.  "That encourages them to
look to you as a leader and master, and I'm glad indeed to find such
a friendly feeling amongst you all."

One day Dudley had ridden to the far western boundary of the rancho,
and hearing the news from one of the gauchos that horses had been
seen far out on the pampas, he pressed on till he came to the hill
from the summit of which he and his employer had once before seen a
herd.  None were in sight, though he imagined he saw some dark specks
in the distance, which might be horses.

"We are in want of some," he said to himself, "and so I think I had
better go ahead.  If those are horses I shall know within two hours,
and then could be back with the gauchos in the morning."

He shook his reins and trotted on for some miles, when, judging that
he was now near enough to the objects he had seen in the distance, he
made for a slight rise and clambered to the summit.  He had hardly
reached it when he was startled by a loud report, by a puff of smoke
a few yards to his right, and at the same instant by a curious
movement in his hat.  It jerked back suddenly, spun round, and then
settled on his head again in the most extraordinary and disconcerting
manner.  There was a shout, and then from right and left a chorus of
frantic yells.  Figures sprang up from the hollows and the long
grass, while twenty horsemen galloped from behind a small clump of
trees.

"Indians!  A hundred of them perhaps!" was Dudley's startled
exclamation.  "I shall have to run for my life."

He took to his heels at once, and raced down the hillock towards his
horse, the gun which he carried over his shoulders pounding against
his back.  He had fifty yards to cover, and long before he had gained
his mount the Indian who had fired at him had reached the top of the
hillock and had thrown himself on one knee.  There came the ring of
an iron ramrod, for this savage was armed with an old-fashioned
muzzle-loader.  Then followed the bellow of the piece, while a ball
hummed over the pampas, missed our hero by little more than an inch,
and, flying on, struck his horse just in front of the saddle, causing
him to rear up, give a startled neigh, and then trot on a few paces.

"Whoa!  Steady, horse!" shouted Dudley, knowing that his life
depended on his mount.  "Steady, boy!  I'm coming."

It was a fortunate thing for him that he had made a point of
accustoming his mount to his voice, for otherwise the frightened
animal would have bolted.  As it was it stood irresolute, listening
to Dudley's words, its ears pricked up and its eyes cast back at the
figures now pouring over the summit.  There were at least forty
dismounted Indians, and a rattling volley came from their
muzzle-loaders as the fugitive reached the side of his horse, the
bullets whizzing overhead and on either side, but missing man and
animal by good chance.  Dudley vaulted into his saddle promptly,
clutched at his reins, and, turning his face towards the distant
rancho, set spurs to the flanks of his horse.  And then commenced a
flight which was all too exciting for the young fellow who was being
chased.

Bang!  Bang!  Another volley rattled from the direction of the
hillock, a scattered, irregular volley, broken by shouts and wild
yells.  Then there was a dull thud and the horse sprang into the air
and then galloped on at an even greater pace, for it had been stung
by a bullet which had struck it on the quarter.  However, the range
was rather far for a muzzle-loader, and it happened that the wound
was only a superficial one.

"Steady, boy!" cried Dudley, taking good hold of his reins and
looking round.  "We have a long gallop before us and we had better be
careful.  Steady!  Their horsemen are not in sight."

Pulling gently at the mouth of the excited steed he managed to steady
its pace a little, till it was bounding at a good gallop over the
pampas.  It was a fine beast, and capable of a long race, but not at
full speed all the way.  Dudley knew that, and like the jockey who
has a good horse beneath him, and other fine ones to beat, he
determined to husband the strength of his mount, so as to keep it
comfortably ahead of the pursuers as far as the rancho.

A minute later a mob of shrieking Indians burst over the top of the
hillock and came galloping down, their arms waving in the air, guns
flourishing overhead, and their bodies bent low in the saddle.  They
were a set of cut-throats in appearance, and bellowed and shrieked in
a manner which gave some indication of their ferocity.  But no one
who watched their mad pursuit could have failed to admire them to
some extent.  The men were part and parcel of their horses.  They
rode on a strip of leather for the most part, and had no stirrups.
Their knees lay close to their horses and they sat as if they were
glued to their places.  There was an easy swing and poise about them,
too, which told that they trusted entirely to grip and to balance,
and were thus able to do without saddle and stirrups.

"A nasty-looking lot of beggars," thought Dudley, "and well mounted,
as they always are.  It will be a close race, and very soon I shall
have to press my horse.  The fellows haven't saddles either.  I wish
I hadn't.  It gives them an advantage, for I carry extra weight."

That set him thinking, for the native saddle used by the gauchos was
a somewhat heavy and cumbersome affair, and, to one used to an
English hunting saddle, it was by no means too comfortable.  He
turned again to watch the Indians, noticing that already quite a
number had commenced to fall to the rear.  Then he bent towards his
horse's neck and slid his left hand down to the buckle which secured
the girth.

"It could be done," he said to himself.  "I could unbuckle the strap
and so loosen the saddle.  The thing is, could I manage to pass it
backwards without toppling over?"

He thought again, and, as if to practise the movement slipped his
toes from the stirrups, for he had often ridden without the latter
and knew that he would not tumble.  A little consideration showed him
that the feat he contemplated was possible, and knowing well that if
he intended to relieve his horse of some weight it would be wiser to
do so now, at the very commencement of the struggle, he promptly slid
his hand down to the buckle again and in a minute had it loosened.
He gripped the neck of his mount with the hand which held the reins,
and, leaning forward, lifted himself, while with the free hand he
pushed the saddle backwards.  Once he swerved dangerously, for the
task was no easy one, and at the sight a howl came from the pursuing
mob.

"Shout away!" cried Dudley, as he regained his balance.  "You've not
got me yet, and if I can prevent you, well, I will."

One more effort and the saddle was behind him.  A touch, and it,
together with his poncho and blanket and a couple of heavy saddle
bags, overbalanced and fell to the ground with a crash.  His gallant
beast was now on more even terms with those ridden by the Indians,
and as he felt the relief he tossed his head and pulled at the bit.

"Steady, lad!" shouted his rider again.  "We're keeping just nicely
ahead, and there is no occasion to do more.  They are getting broken
up a little.  Some are being left behind."

His knees were close in to his horse's side now, and he bent low,
till his figure hardly caught the wind.  Every two or three seconds
he turned his head to watch the Indians, and noted that the worst
mounted were already being left in the rear, while those who were
foremost had not gained an inch.  They were two hundred yards behind,
galloping hard; but though he looked carefully he could not see a
whip used, nor did they seem to wear spurs.

"Wily foxes," he said, "they are doing the same thing!  They are
carefully holding in their animals, probably thinking that they will
tire mine out.  That will suit me well, for the rancho is not more
than six miles away now, and we can keep this pace up for a longer
distance."

He began to feel more confident, and though the shouts and screams of
the pursuers made him feel inclined to use his spurs, and force the
pace, he went on as before, checking his speed by theirs,
disregarding the reports of the weapons which they occasionally
snapped at him, and always maintaining the same distance in advance.
But he was by no means out of the woods, as he was shortly to learn.
The Indians had seen him free his horse of the saddle, and had
increased their angry shouts.  But when three miles had been covered,
the dozen or more who still remained had settled down to a grim
silence.  They could not afford to waste their breath, nor could they
reload their weapons at that pace.  Instead, they began to let their
horses out little by little, and very soon they were using their
whips, sending their animals along at breakneck pace.

"Time for me to push along," thought Dudley.  "In a few minutes I
ought to be in the rancho and among friends, so I have only to keep
going for a little while.  Come along, boy!"

This time the rowels of his spurs touched the flanks, and his beast
increased its pace, and for a time held the distance it had gained at
the first.  One by one the pursuing Indians dropped off, the pace
being too hot for their horses, till three only were left.  But these
were beautifully mounted, and, now that the crisis of the affair had
arrived, they showed that there was still a little pace to be
squeezed out of their horses.  Their whips cracked, their bony heels
went to the flanks, and their beasts steadily drew up to the quarry.
Then one of the three disengaged himself from his comrades inch by
inch till he was some yards ahead, and was rapidly overhauling
Dudley.  The man carried a revolver in one hand, and instead of a
whip used his cruel spurs continuously.  Dudley glanced round at him,
gave an exclamation, and then slipped his hand into the pocket
carried on the hip of his riding leggings.  For this was not an
Indian.  The man was dressed as a gaucho, and it wanted only a second
glance at that evil face, at those deep-set and scowling eyes, to
tell him that it was Giono, the man who had warned him to beware, and
who had left the rancho breathing vengeance against the two white men
who resided there.




CHAPTER VIII

DUDLEY LEADS THE GAUCHOS

"He is better mounted than I am, and there is bound to be a fight,"
thought Dudley as the minutes flew by and Giono gained rapidly upon
him, leaving his two comrades some yards in rear.  "I had better keep
a careful watch on his revolver, and if he lifts it I will fire."

They were close to the edge of the rancho now, and half a mile ahead
the rails of the corral could be seen.  But though our hero strained
his eyes in that direction there was not a single horseman.  Nothing
but the corral broke the flat expanse of waving pampas.  He was
alone, and must look to himself for safety.

Crack!  As he stared ahead there came the sharp report of a pistol,
and on glancing behind he saw a wreath of smoke blowing away from the
muzzle of Giono's revolver.

"Missed," thought Dudley, with no little satisfaction.  "The range is
too long as yet, and even if he hits me the bullet will do no great
harm.  But he is pulling up fast.  I wonder whether, if I hit him,
the others will give up the chase?"

Crack!  Once again the report came to his ear, and instinctively he
crouched lower as a bullet hissed over his head.  He was within range
then, and must act if he was to escape at all.  Keeping low on the
back of his horse, with his weight thrown as much forward as
possible, he glanced round again, his head twisted to the right.
Giono was standing in his stirrups, his eye blazing with wrath, and
fierce determination written on every line of his ugly face.  He
lifted the weapon again, took very careful aim, and was on the point
of pressing the trigger when Dudley gripped the butt of his revolver
and sent a bullet flying behind.  And here again his happy knack of
shooting, the quick eye and ready hand which he possessed, stood him
in good stead.  Giono gave a shout, clapped the hand which held the
reins to his chest, and instantly crumpled up on the bow of his
saddle.  He swayed from side to side, and made frantic efforts to
cling to his seat.  His spurs almost met beneath his horse's belly,
while the rowels dug into the poor beast, making it gallop even
harder.  Then this powerful gaucho, hardened to exposure and fatigue,
recovered his strength and threw off the sudden weakness caused by
his wound.  There was a thin streak of blood at the corner of his
mouth as he sat up with a jerk, and the scowl on his face had
increased in intensity.  Without lifting his weapon he pointed the
muzzle at the lad in front of him and pulled the trigger.

Dudley learned some ten minutes later what happened after that
momentous shot, for within two seconds he was unconscious.  The
bullet had missed him entirely, but flying low had passed between the
heels of his horse, and had struck behind the knee of one of the fore
legs, bringing the gallant beast toppling on to its head.

"When the señor is ready it will be as well to move on," he suddenly
heard a voice say.  "The señor is better.  He has fallen heavily, and
the ground was hard.  Pepito, bring your water sack, and we will
sprinkle his face and so refresh him."

The words sounded as if they had been spoken yards and yards away.
They came to Dudley's ears in a strangely blurred fashion, failing to
rouse him, and leaving him to puzzle over their meaning.

"The ground was hard, and he had fallen heavily.  Who had fallen
heavily?" he wondered.  "They are joking.  Perhaps they want to
disturb me.  But I won't move.  I'm very comfortable, thank you!"

He mumbled the last words in a low voice, and in tones which showed
that he was feeling irritable.  In fact, his mind was more or less of
a blank.  He had no idea who was speaking, and he cared less.  He
felt drowsy, and objected to being disturbed.

"Bueno, Pepito!  The water comes in handy, and our young master will
thank us for it.  Lift his head so.  Now I will dash some of the
contents of this sack in his face."

On the pampas it was the custom to carry water in a canvas bag, just
as it is in Egypt, and in Africa, and in many another country.
Pepito, a young gaucho who had been sent for his store, stood by
grinning with anxiety, for he had taken a fancy to this young English
fellow, while Pietro knelt and lifted Dudley's head.  Then the tall
gaucho with the melancholy air deliberately dashed some of the water
in the face of the half-unconscious youth.

"Here, I say!" gasped Dudley, frantically struggling to sit up, and
opening his eyes wide.  "Look here!  No more of that!  If you try the
game again I'll----"

He stopped short, his mouth wide open, and his eyes fixed on Pietro's
honest face.  Up to that very instant his wits had been sadly
wandering, and he had imagined himself at school again.  This was, so
he thought, a game being played at his expense, and----

"Why, it's Pietro, and that's Pepito!  What are you grinning for?"

The young gaucho turned his head away in confusion, while Pietro
lifted his patient higher.

"Yes, we are here, señor," he said.  "Is the señor right in his mind
now?  Is his head sore?  For the fall was a heavy one, and, as I
said, the ground is hard."

"Was his head sore?"  Dudley sat up suddenly and gazed about him in
bewilderment, for he had still no recollection of what had happened a
few minutes before.  He ran his hands over his head, and then turned
to speak again to Pepito, only to feel acute pain in his neck, and
give a sudden cry.

"That is queer.  My neck feels as if it had been almost broken, or as
if some fellow had collared me and given it a firm and friendly
screw.  Hallo!"

This time his eyes fell on something which could not but remind him
of his exciting chase, for a dozen yards away his own horse stood
shaking after its frantic exertions, and blowing harder than Dudley
had ever seen one blow before.  The gallant beast was white with
foam, and its flanks moved in and out spasmodically.  Its head hung
low, and generally its appearance was one of absolute exhaustion.

"He helped to save the señor's life," said Pietro.  "He galloped
well.  But the señor was wise to shake off the saddle.  Had he not
done so this Giono would have certainly overhauled him earlier, and
then----"

"And then?  Yes?" asked Dudley.

"The señor would not be here.  The señor would be dead.  As it is,
Giono is dead.  He has a dozen bullets in him in addition to the one
which you sent.  Come, the señor is better."

Dudley was.  In a flash he remembered his flight and all that had
happened up to the report which had come from Giono's revolver.
After that all was a blank.

"Tell me what happened," he asked, struggling to his feet and
standing there with Pietro and another gaucho supporting him.  "No,
leave me alone please, for I can stand.  I am just a little giddy,
that's all, and, phew! my neck!"

"It is a wonder it was not broken, señor," came the answer.  "You
shot out from the back of your horse and flew some yards before you
landed.  I made sure that you were killed, for you fell on your head
and rolled over.  Another man's neck would have been broken."

"Then I am saved for some other fate," laughed Dudley, beginning to
feel better.  "Many thanks, my friends, for helping me, and for the
water.  Now, what happened exactly?"

He beckoned to Pepito, took a deep draught from the sack, and then
turned to Pietro again.

"Giono made a better shot the last time he ever pulled trigger than
he would have done had he dared to fire at the flying pith ball of
the bolas, señor.  You had hit him hard in the chest, and he was
bleeding.  But, as I said, he had luck.  His ball hit your beast
behind the knee, and brought him down like a stone, just as you or I
would fall if someone struck us in a similar position.  You fell, as
I have described, and in a moment Giono was pulling up beside you,
while his two comrades were galloping to join him.  They were a fine
mark, and we dropped them at our first volley."

"You dropped them?  How?"

Dudley was amazed, for he had seen none of his friends.

"We might have remained on our horses, señor.  But then we knew that
you could reach the rancho before the enemy, and even if you could
not we could hardly help you, for you were within a mile before our
lookout gave the alarm.  There is a small hollow on our left, and
there we placed our horses on their sides, and lay in wait for the
Indians, guessing that you would pass near at hand.  It was as well
for the señor that we were there, for Giono would have committed
murder."

"Then I have to thank you for a good deal more than the water," said
Dudley gratefully.  "I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.
But were you not saying something about moving?"

"_Bueno_, señor!  These demons are collecting away yonder, and our
men say that there are three or four hundred.  It would be as well to
retire on the house shortly, for all are mounted, and could easily
surround us.  When the señor is himself again we will ride on."

"I am ready now," came the answer.  "First tell me how many gauchos
there are here."

"Forty, señor, and men have ridden off to tell the others to retire
on the house."

"One moment, Pietro!  They have orders to go, and I see them
mounting; they have not left yet."

It was the tall gaucho who interposed, and at once Dudley took
advantage of his information.

"Send them here immediately," he commanded, and in a voice which the
gauchos were fully accustomed to, for quite unconsciously this young
Englishman had acquired an air of authority since Mr. Blunt had given
him the management.  "Now, I want to ask a question.  What becomes of
our master's cattle if we retire?"

"They remain," came the unhesitating answer.  "The Indians will
probably attack us to-morrow, and if they are unsuccessful they will
drive the cattle away.  We shall call the gauchos from other ranches
and shall follow, and no doubt we shall manage to capture many of the
stolen beasts.  There is never much fighting, señor, for the Indians
move quickly, and give up all the cattle that lag.  Our attention is
thus engaged more with the beasts than with the enemy."

"While in any case our master is a heavy loser."

"That is so, señor," admitted Pietro ruefully; "but who can help it?"

"We can," came the prompt answer.  "We can try to, at any rate.  More
than that, I fancy we might even read these fellows a lesson which
will last them for many a year to come.  Send those messengers to me."

Pietro and his comrades stared at Dudley as if they could not believe
their ears.  They had spent their lives on the pampas, and now and
again it had happened that they or friends of theirs had been
surrounded by the Indians, who were always hostile to the gauchos.
Then they had had to fight, and the gauchos had plenty of pluck and
determination, and knew how to make the most of a desperate
situation.  But their experience had also taught them that the
Indians always raided in large numbers, which it would be foolish to
oppose.  These raids were very often, and in fact in nearly every
case, sudden and unexpected, and retaliation was never very possible.
Sometimes they had managed to round up some of the Indians as they
drove the rancho cattle away, and then there had been slaughter.  But
as a general rule gauchos were pounced upon and killed barbarously,
while those who escaped hung on the tail of the retreating Indians
and did their best to recover some of the cattle, which were always
the object of these raids.  It was therefore somewhat startling to
hear such a proposition.

"As the señor cares to order," said Pietro readily.  "But how?  We
are willing to fight if he will show us how."

"Then listen to this.  The beasts are six miles from this, at least
they were early this morning when I rode out."

"They are there now, señor.  The gauchos surround them."

"Then we will retire at once till we are well beyond the herd.  There
are three thousand of them, and the Indians will hardly dare to drive
more.  We will gallop away now, and by the time we reach our comrades
it will be dusk."

"That is true, señor," came the cautious admission.  "It will be
dusk, but not so dark that the Indians cannot follow and surround the
cattle.  Three thousand is as many as they dare attempt to drive."

"Then tell me this, Pietro.  Will they return towards their own
country to-night, supposing they do not attack the house?"

"Surely not, señor.  It would be madness to attempt to control so
many beasts in the darkness, they would stampede.  They will camp for
the night, and I myself believe that, now that Giono is killed, they
will not attempt an attack on the farm.  They will surround the
cattle, just as we do, and those who are not on guard will build a
fire, kill a beast, and gorge themselves with the meat.  I know them
well; they are gluttons to a man."

"Then they will play into our hands.  Listen to this.  Send a
messenger to each of our herds, and give them orders to call away all
the gauchos who can be spared.  They are to meet us five miles beyond
the place for which we are now about to make.  They are to ride
silently, and are not to smoke or to attract the attention of the
Indians.  You follow me?  Then let us ride."

The buzzing noise in his head was forgotten.  He no longer felt the
crick in his neck which had troubled him so much a few minutes
before.  He was all keenness to be moving, to perfect his scheme, and
to do something to save his employer.  For Dudley had often
considered these Indian raids, and time and again had asked why it
was that resistance was not better organized, and why the gauchos and
their leaders did not combine rapidly, having some prearranged
signal, and fall upon the enemy before they had retired too far.
That was the only time when a blow could be struck, for to follow the
Indians into their own country was out of the question, unless a
large force were taken, and then there would be the added
difficulties of transport of ammunition and food, besides the chance
of failing to find water, always a danger in this pampas country,
where streams were not abundant.  Here was an opportunity to strike a
blow, for, thanks to the late arrival of the Indians, it was already
getting dusk, and would be dark before they could reach the nearest
herd of cattle.

"You are sure that they will bivouac when they come up with the
beasts?" he asked anxiously.

"I am certain, señor.  Indians do not love moving about at night in
any case, and it is more than likely that they have ridden far
to-day.  Their raids are usually successful because they arrive when
least expected.  They ride fast from their own country in the hope of
falling upon the settlements before news of their coming can be sent.
If they meet a stray gaucho they ride him down and shoot him lest he
should carry the alarm.  That is why the señor was chased, and why
Giono was so intent on killing him.  Their beasts have had a big
day's work, and they will rest them as soon as possible, knowing that
they have a bigger day before them on the morrow."

"Then we will mount and ride," said Dudley.  "Pietro, take command of
twenty of the gauchos, and stay here till the main body of the enemy
appear, then retire before they can come within range.  Let them
think that you are terrified, and when once you get going, gallop
back beyond the herd as fast as you can.  By then it will be dark."

"Surely it will, señor; the sun is sinking fast, and twilight is
never long with us.  We wait, and retire when the time comes.  We
shall find you and our comrades beyond?"

"We shall be six miles or rather less on the far side of the herd.
Be careful, and good luck to you and your friends."

There was a calm businesslike air about the young gringo which
impressed the gauchos, the air of modest self-assurance which had
impressed them when this lad had joined them for the first time and
had won his match against Giono.  Already they had become accustomed
to receiving orders from him, and, more than that, he had always been
so tactful in giving them, was so friendly with them one and all, and
so ready to accept advice from these honest and experienced men of
the pampas, that there was not one who did not swear by him.

"He is a youth, it is true, comrades," Pietro had said on one
occasion when the new manager was under discussion, "he was a gringo
only a little while ago, but, I ask, is there here a man who could
draw on him and hope to be alive within a minute?"

"There is not one," came the emphatic answer from a comrade.  "And
yet, I declare that that is wrong after all; for our young master, it
is true, would have his muzzle at our heads before we could wink, but
would not fire.  He knows that we like him."

There was a chorus of assent, and then and there all declared that
the arrangement made by Mr. Blunt was excellent, and met with their
approval.  They thought a lot of the new manager.  He was not
conceited, not full of foolish airs and graces, and by no means soft.
He didn't know everything, and was not ashamed to acknowledge his
inexperience.  But when it came to giving orders, he was the one, and
already they understood that he would have no unnecessary
interference.  Mr. Blunt was away just at this time, and so it was
natural that they should turn to Dudley.

Pietro selected his men at once, and each one stood beside his horse,
his gun over his shoulder, while the gaucho told them in his own
tongue and in the plainest language what was expected of them.

"This is not to be the usual raid, comrades," he said.  "The Indians
are not to have it all their own way as formerly, for our young
master will attack them.  We are to wait here till they come up in
force, and then we are to retire in haste as if we feared them.  Not
a shot is to be fired.  Watch me, and when I shout, turn your horses
and gallop back past the herd.  It will be getting dark by then, and
as soon as we are out of sight we will draw in together and trot on
to the meeting place."

It was pretty to watch the way in which this party of gauchos swung
themselves into their native saddles.  Pietro gave the word, and in
less than half a minute the men were in their seats, their toes home
in the stirrups, and their weapons in their hands.  And there they
sat like statues, the fringes of their leggings blowing out on either
side, their broad-brimmed hats pulled down well, so that they should
not lose them, and a general air of expectancy on every face.  For
this was so different from their action on former occasions.  No man
likes to be hounded off his own land, and see the possessions of
which he has had charge filched from beneath his very nose.  Such a
course of conduct is demoralizing.  The thought that they were to
make a struggle, not for their own lives so much as for their
master's property, heartened these fine gauchos, and they cast many
an admiring glance at their young commander.  Dudley limped across
the grass, for he was stiff and sore after such a tumble, and
clambered into the saddle.  He was to ride a spare horse, while his
own fine beast was led, for it was still too exhausted for active
work, and could hardly have supported a man's weight.  Then he waved
his arm, and at the signal the remainder of the gauchos fell in
beside him and walked their horses back towards the spot where the
herd was being guarded.  Four miles beyond, a dozen galloping figures
were seen dimly in the distance, and a little later these gauchos,
besides some five or six more, had joined their force, increasing its
numbers till they were quite respectable.

"There is firing behind, señor," said Pepito, suddenly, for he was
riding beside Dudley.  "Listen again!  There and there!  The Indians
are within range, perhaps, or they are driving our friends before
them.  It is too dark to see far.  If it were early morning we could
detect their figures."

Dudley reined in his horse and sat upright, listening.

"We will halt here for a while in case they are in difficulties,"
said he promptly; "then we can all ride on together."

A quarter of an hour passed before a group of horsemen was seen
approaching through the dusk.  It was Pietro and his party, and there
was a broad grin of satisfaction on every face.  The two parties fell
in together and trotted on over the swelling pampas till they had
passed the herd for which the Indians were making and had gone four
miles beyond.

"We had fun, señor," said Pietro, as he wiped the perspiration from
his face with his horny fingers and lifted his hat to cool his head.
"They came towards us in one big mass, with a few scouts out on their
flanks.  There were between three and four hundred, perhaps, and by
the manner in which they rode it was clear that they imagined that
there was nothing to fear.  They sent a hundred towards us, and long
before these men were in range they began to fire their weapons.  We
waited till the bullets dropped pretty close, and then we bolted as
if we were scared for our lives.  Is that as the señor wished?"

"You have done splendidly, Pietro, and must have increased their
assurance.  They will perhaps be less careful to-night."

"They will set a good watch on the cattle, of that the señor may be
sure," was Pietro's answer; "but the main body will camp, and do as I
said before.  Meat is not too plentiful with these savages, and when
they are encamped so close to a herd which belongs to someone else,
and when a dozen more or less of the beasts make no difference, they
will slaughter enough to satisfy the hunger of a thousand men and
will gorge themselves.  They do not fear attack.  Why should they,
when there are such numbers of them?"

"That is just the little point which is going to help us, Pietro,"
smiled Dudley.  "It is the general who despises his adversaries and
who fails to set a careful watch who is caught napping on occasion.
It happens that a spiritless enemy take a sudden and unaccountable
change.  Something gives them pluck, though that is never wanting
with the gauchos, or someone suggests another course of action which
seems worth trying; then your careless and cocksure general has a
fall--he and his men get a hiding."

Pietro laughed heartily, and a number of the men near at hand joined
in.  For all could understand English, and speak a little, while
Pietro, Pepito, and a few others could converse fluently.  They
gathered the meaning of their young leader instantly, and liked the
plain way in which he put this last matter.

"The señor is right, as he has been before," laughed Pietro.  "If he
had not been here we should have had no warning, some of our number
would have been killed, and then we should have galloped for the
house, leaving the cattle to themselves.  Now we see that there is
another course.  The señor can rely on us, for we would do much to
break up these enemies, and check them thoroughly.  Does the señor
know what happens should a gaucho be captured?"

"Something unpleasant, I imagine," smiled Dudley.

"I will not say.  But it is bad.  They are brutes, and treat
prisoners with frightful cruelty.  But we are four miles from the
herd.  What shall we do next?"

"Eat and smoke, if you can get into some little hollow," was the
prompt answer.  "When are these fellows asleep?"

"By midnight they will be gorged and drowsy.  By two in the morning
they will be almost helpless.  Their sense of hearing will be dulled,
and for the most part they will be fast asleep."

"And the dawn breaks at about four-thirty.  Good!" exclaimed Dudley.
"Well, what about the meal?"

"The señor thinks of the comfort of his men always.  There is a dip
in the pampas beyond the next rise; there we can light fires and eat
and rest."

The wide sweeping pampas ran on in a long succession of rolls, which
were hardly distinguishable to those riding over them.  But they were
there for all that, and often enough a party of horsemen situated in
one depression would be out of sight of a second in a depression
running parallel.  Dudley and his men took advantage of this fact,
and very soon had hobbled their horses, had slipped the bits behind
the chins, so that the animals might graze, and had gathered bundles
of thistles.  These were set fire to beneath an awning of blankets,
for otherwise the glare might have been seen in the sky.  Cuts of
juicy meat were skewered on sticks or on ramrods, and very soon there
was a fizzle about the flames, and an odor which made a hungry man
sniff and grow fidgety.  Pipes were taken from saddle bags, filled
with rank weed which would try the stomach even of an army recruit,
and carefully lit at the embers.

It was a peaceful and very contented body of men who sat about that
shrouded fire and discussed their evening meal, a party of good
fellows who were strangely elated, and who cast glances of the utmost
confidence at their white leader.  The hours flew by, and as midnight
came, many of the gauchos had already fallen asleep.

"We will let them rest till all is ready," said Dudley in a whisper.
"Now, Pietro, I am going over there to the cattle to see what the
Indians are doing.  If things are fairly quiet we will make a
movement.  Send Pepito with me, and bring along the main party in
half an hour's time, taking care to halt them a good mile from the
enemy."

The gaucho's mouth opened wide with astonishment.  He stared at the
set face before him, half-lit by the flare from the fire, and then
altered his mind.  He was about to argue, to remonstrate, and as
quickly decided that words were not wanted.

"The señor is pleased to order," he said.  "We shall obey.  In an
hour from now we shall be a mile from the enemy."

"Good.  Then I shall meet you there and give further instructions.
Recollect, silence must be kept.  No pipes are to be smoked, and,
above all, men must be careful of their weapons.  Good-by!"

Pepito was beside them now, and at a word from Dudley he strode by
his side out of the camp and away in the direction of the Indians.




CHAPTER IX

FIGHTING THE ENEMY

It was a clear, starlight night when Dudley and Pepito stole out from
the little camp in which the gauchos lay, and sought for their
horses.  They found them sleeping some few yards from the ring of
men, and soon had tightened girths and adjusted the bits.  Then they
swung themselves into their saddles and rode away over the pampas,
making not a sound as they went.

"How far will the señor ride?" asked Pepito, when they had trotted
forward for a couple of miles.  "I do not fear that the Indians will
hear us at this distance, but we must not forget that if the greater
number are eating or sleeping, there are still men guarding the
cattle; for they know as well as we that without men to watch them
the beasts would stray.  They will keep them together, and make away
early in the morning."

"That is if we do not interfere before, and send them galloping about
their business," laughed Dudley.  "I judge that we should be able to
see their fires long before we come up with them.  In fact, I fancy I
can distinguish a glare in the sky already."

"It is there, señor.  When we top the next roll we shall see the
glare of their fires.  They make no secret of their presence.  Why
should they, indeed, when there are so many of them?"

A little later a low cry burst from Dudley, and he pulled in his
horse, for his eye had suddenly detected a fire.  A few paces farther
on he was able to sight as many as twenty, some flaring high, and
some dull and smouldering.  A few were showing merely an occasional
flash of light.

"They are surrounded by natives, and we can tell from that that they
are not all asleep," said Pepito.  "They have camped within thirty
yards of the cattle, and no doubt have been busy."

"Well, we cannot make sure of that from here," answered Dudley.  "We
will leave our horses hobbled and push on on foot.  When we are close
enough to see them distinctly we will lie down and watch for a time,
and get some idea of their position, and make up our minds from which
direction to attack them.  There are the cattle to be reckoned with,
and their horses."

They slipped silently out of their saddles, and very soon had hobbled
the horses.

"They will stand where they are," said Pepito with conviction.  "They
have had a good day's work, and were sleepy and tired when we took
them out.  I expect they were not very pleased, and will be glad to
fall asleep again.  Pietro and his men will find them here and will
keep them for us."

They left the horses attached to one another by means of the reins,
and almost before they themselves had moved away the poor beasts were
asleep.  Their heads hung down, and neither of them made the
slightest movement.  Dudley and his companion took the precaution of
discarding their spurs, which they slung to their saddles.  Then they
stepped out for the distant fires, and after a little while found
themselves within easy distance of them, and within sound of the
Indian camp.  It was time, in fact, to use the utmost caution, and at
once they threw themselves on their faces and crawled forward, Dudley
in advance, and Pepito close beside him.  In this way it was some
little time before they had arrived within pistol shot of the enemy.
They found the three or four hundred of which the party consisted
camped close together in one big circle, in the centre of which were
their horses.  All round the circle were fires, some of them already
cold, while others were fast dying out.  A few still flared brightly,
and round these sat numbers of dusky figures swathed in coarse
blankets.  Some were smoking and chatting in low tones, while the
majority were fast asleep, having eaten till they could eat no more.
Pietro, indeed, knew the Indian customs to a nicety.  They had a
great fondness for meat, a commodity which was often very scarce with
them; and hence they went to much fatigue to obtain fresh supplies,
raiding the various ranches, and too often making a fine haul.

"They are pleased with the herd I should say, señor," whispered
Pepito.  "They have not stinted themselves, if one can guess from the
carcasses.  At least thirty beasts have been slain, and the meat is
all lying about the camp."

"I see," Dudley answered, for he had caught sight of more than one of
the carcasses.  "Have they any guards out round the camp.  I have
been watching carefully, but have not been able to detect them."

"None on this side, señor.  I cannot say what they have over yonder
till I have been to see.  But I think that there will be none.  What
have four hundred to fear from a bare forty or fifty?"

"As a general rule, nothing.  But we must make quite sure of those
sentries.  If there are none, all the better.  I will crawl round
their camp to the left, while you make in the opposite direction.  We
shall come together over there and can compare notes.  Then we shall
have to see what arrangements they have made to guard the cattle."

They exchanged hand-grips, and moved away from each other promptly,
crawling through the grass like a couple of snakes.  It was a
dangerous business upon which they were engaged, and Dudley felt more
than a little excited.  He knew very well that if he or Pepito were
discovered, his end would be swift and cruel.  And he was equally
well aware of the fact that each one of the enemy was a savage, used
to work out in the open, and possessed of wonderful acuteness and of
the keenest hearing and vision.  Supposing an Indian happened to see
him as he crawled!

"It would be all up," he thought, with something approaching a
shiver.  "But I'm not going to cry out till I'm hurt, and as Mr.
Blunt has made me under-manager of the rancho, I am not going to have
a lot of robbers like these fellows make into the place and sweep it
clean of cattle.  Not if I know it."

He gave a little grim chuckle, and crawled on, keeping his eyes well
about him.  From the line he took he was able to look into the Indian
camp and see everything plainly, for, while he was shrouded in
darkness, the enemy's camp was partially illuminated by the fires
which still flared.  He grew a little bolder, and approached nearer
still, till he could tell for certain that the greater number of the
men were fast asleep, doubled up beside the embers and swathed in
their blankets.  Some sat up, covered from head to foot in the same
warm cloaking, and swaying at times somewhat dangerously.  Thirty or
more were awake, and sat huddled close to the fire, smoking quietly,
and talking in low and drowsy tones.

"Ready for bed!" he thought.  "Well, there are no sentries over here,
so I'll push on.  There are a couple of the ruffians round that fire
yonder."

He crawled along beside the camp till he was opposite the fire which
had attracted his attention, and there he lay hidden in the grass for
a little while, watching two of the Indians eating voraciously.

"Come off cattle guard, I expect," said Dudley, "and now making the
most of the provisions stolen from my master.  That's another man."

He heard a step somewhere behind him, and instantly crouched still
lower in the grass, and pressed his body close to the ground.  The
step came nearer, and he heard some metal instrument jingle.  Then,
not ten paces from him, a figure came dimly into view.  It was an
Indian, who was armed with a gun which swung from his shoulder, and
carried in his hand the bit and the reins which he had just taken
from his horse.  It was a buckle on these reins which Dudley had
heard tinkling, and presently he saw the animal from which they had
been taken following his master like a dog.  The Indian whistled and
stepped on at a faster pace, for he had suddenly obtained a full view
of his two companions.  Then he waited for the horse to come level
with him, took it by the mane, and led it to the centre of the camp,
going himself immediately to the fire side.

"Where, no doubt, he will have his share of the food," thought
Dudley.  "It was lucky for me that he did not come a yard or so
nearer this way, or he would have seen me for certain.  Hallo!"

"Señor!"

"Here!" whispered Dudley.  They came close together and lay down with
their heads touching.

"All asleep on the far side, señor," Pepito reported.  "Not a sentry
or guard of any sort.  They have been eating their fill."

"On this side all is clear also, Pepito.  Now we will see what they
have done with the cattle.  Go to the right again, while I make to
the left.  We will meet on the far side, and then we will return to
our comrades."

It was not a time for talking, for even a whisper might be heard.
They crept away together for some few yards, and then rose to their
hands and knees, and separated at once.  Ten minutes later they met
on the opposite side of the herd, and compared notes.

"I passed fourteen of their guards, all mounted, señor," said Pepito.
"They had guns slung to their shoulders, and had whips in their
hands.  The cattle were asleep and perfectly quiet."

"I saw ten men, mounted like yours," reported Dudley.  "The herd
seemed to be as quiet as are those fellows in the camp.  Let us get
back to Pietro and the men as soon as possible."

It took some little while for them to make their way back to the
horses which they had left away on the pampas, for a flat grass plain
gives little idea of direction, and a dark but fine night does not
help a man out of the difficulty if he happen to have spent all his
days in one of our British towns.  But Pepito could read the heavens
as easily as Dudley could absorb a book, and he quickly decided where
the horses lay.  They strode on for a long while in silence, and then
the gaucho gave an exclamation of satisfaction.

"As I thought," he said.  "Pietro and the boys are there, and have
taken charge of our beasts.  We shall soon be with them."

He gave a low whistle when they arrived within a shorter distance of
the dark group which suddenly appeared, dull and ill-defined, against
the starlit sky, and at once the signal was answered.  Pietro rode
forward, leading their two horses.

"What news?" he asked.  "The men here are full of excitement, and are
eager to attack.  How do the enemy lie?"

Dudley explained the situation in a few short sentences, while the
gauchos gathered round and drank in his words.

"Everything seems to be in favor of this attack, señor," said Pietro
at length.  "There remains now only the necessary orders.  We are
here to obey, as I have already intimated.  We wait for the señor's
commands.  He has seen this Indian camp, he knows how the enemy is
placed, and no doubt he has already made his plans."

"I have," came the short answer, "and I want all to listen.  The
enemy are to the right of the cattle from where we lie now, and that
is, of course, the position in which we shall attack them.  I think
you will all agree with me that when this attack is made it must be
fierce and sudden, and must be carried through."

There was a grunt of approval from the listening gauchos, who edged a
little closer.

"That is agreed.  We have to press this attack home.  Now, I think
there are about fifty of us."

"Forty-eight, señor," came the swift correction from Pietro.

"There are forty-eight, and I am going to divide that number into
three little parties for reasons you will soon understand.  The duty
assigned to thirty of the men will be hazardous.  It will require
dash and daring, and a heap of what we British call 'go.'  I wish to
ask for volunteers from amongst you for that party.  Those who are
willing to act, please ride forward a pace or so."

There was silence for the space of a few seconds, while the men drank
in his words, and ninety-four shining and eager eyes stared at the
white youth in the centre.  Then there was a sudden movement and
bustle, spurs tickled the flanks of the horses, and to a man the
gauchos pressed forward, disputing the right of way with one another.
Dudley grinned, an excited sort of grin.

"I see," he laughed, "all are volunteers.  Then we must settle the
matter quickly.  The twenty-nine men to the right will ride away five
feet from their fellows.  Now, please.  Don't hesitate."

There was a ring of authority in his voice, and at once the men
trailed away, while the gauchos left behind scowled at their
fortunate comrades.

"Now, the next ten ride forward a little.  That is good.  We are left
with seven, and now I can give you all orders.  The big party of
twenty-nine will follow me into the Indian camp from this end, and
will gallop through it, using their revolvers.  They will not enter,
however, till the party of ten have taken up their position and fired
twice into the camp.  That party will start from here at once.  They
will ride to the right, and when they are beyond the camp will steal
up to it till well within range.  When I fire a shot, they will open
with their rifles, and remember, two shots only, please.  Once we
have charged through, they will also dash at them and cut right
across the path we have taken, doing their best to scatter the
horses, and when they are clear, they will turn to the right and join
us.  We will then all have another turn at them.  Pepito is to
command.  Take your men, my lad."

He sat his horse in silence while the astonished gaucho jogged up to
his own particular band, placed himself at their head, and went off
with his following at a swinging trot.

"The remaining seven ride with us till we are nearly in position.
They wait for us to charge, and then attack the cattle guards, and do
their best to shoot down any Indian who attempts to break away.
Remember, boys, we want to make this a lesson, and the sterner it is
the better for all of you and for your master."

The good fellows would have cheered him had not silence been
absolutely necessary.  They were bold and courageous, as Dudley had
already learned, but they had little initiative, and were content as
a rule to act on the defensive.  This attack was an entirely new
idea, and the novelty and daring of it took their breath away.  Then
there was this plan.

"Whoever heard the like?" exclaimed Pietro, his mouth wide open.
"Who could have thought of splitting us up into three parties?  At
the first it seemed madness, for surely we are stronger when fighting
shoulder to shoulder.  But this youth has thought the thing out, and
I follow his reasoning.  When we attack from different quarters we
seem to be of bigger proportions than we really are.  _Bueno_!  I
hope we shall beat these ruffians.  If not, it will have been a fine
fight, and we shall have enjoyed it.  Boys, see that your shooters
are loaded."

All were armed with revolvers, for these men earned good wages, and
could afford the best of weapons.  They sat their horses in silence
now, staring after Pepito's party, and then at Dudley, who chatted
with Pietro.  The fine fellows were beginning to fret at the
inaction.  They fidgeted in their saddles, and reined their horses
back sharply whenever the beasts attempted to move.  But Dudley sat
motionless, his watch in his hand, and the tip of one finger on the
dial.

"I am giving them five minutes," he said.  "When that time has gone,
we will walk forward."

Snap!  He closed his watch with a sharp click, and replaced it in his
pocket.

"March!" he said shortly, and at once they were off, the men leaning
forward expectantly, and all longing for the moment for attack to
arrive.  Ah!  They mounted to the top of the long roll of the pampas,
and there were the fires, duller now it seemed, and twinkling in the
distance.  They pressed on again, and very soon were within striking
distance.  Dudley pulled in his horse and rode round to the flank of
the men.

"Party of seven move away now under Pietro," he said in low tones.
"Halt till we shout, once you have gained your position.  Now, boys,
we will steal forward."

He placed himself at the head of the attacking party, and together
they walked their horses still closer to the enemy's camp.  Not a
sound came from it at present, though from the herd of cattle a
little to the right there came the gentle lowing of beasts and the
occasional crack of a whip.

"They hear us, señor," whispered one of the gauchos.  "The cattle
hear sounds which we could not detect.  They can tell that horses and
men are about, and it makes them restless.  The alarm will be sounded
very soon if you do not fire your pistol.  There!"

It came as he spoke.  One of the figures huddled near one of the
fires rose to his feet, for the lowing among the cattle had made him
suspicious.  He was a light sleeper, and it happened that he was
suffering from an injury to his hand, which kept him awake.  He
peered about him, looked again at the dull patch of black where the
gauchos rode, and then startled the air with his shouts.

"Awake!  Rise!" he bellowed.  "There are enemies close to us.  The
gauchos have returned.  Get up and fire at them.  We will kill every
man who waits till we are mounted."

He dashed towards the horses, shouting as he ran.  And at once some
twenty figures followed him, for these Indians, from their long
training to danger, were ever alert and quick to defend themselves.
But numbers had eaten not only enough, but a good deal more than
sufficient, and were correspondingly drowsy.  Dudley's pistol shook
the air before they had quite gripped the fact that there was an
alarm, and they were just throwing off their blankets and rising to
their feet when Pepito's party sent a withering volley into their
midst.

At once there were howls of anguish and shouts of astonishment.  The
sluggards awakened with a vengeance, and dashed madly towards their
horses, while the herd of cattle close alongside sent out many a
bellow and began to sway from side to side.

Crash!  The second volley ripped through the camp, and hardly had the
Indians replied to it with yells of rage and fear when Dudley shouted
to his men.  They were spread in a line across the end of the camp,
the gauchos being close together.  They watched their leader as well
as the light and so many counter attractions would admit, and as he
set his horse in motion they came close on his heels.  They were
galloping now, and their leader was waving them on.  He gave a yell,
and at once the chorus took it up.  The gauchos shrieked as loud as
any Indian, touched their horses with the spur, and in a moment the
little band was plunging through the camp.  Fleeing Indians went down
under their heels, guns exploded in their faces, and of a sudden the
dark mass of swaying horses blocked their path.  Dudley's revolver
snapped sharply, while the men behind poured a hail into the men
attempting to mount.  Then the confusion became indescribable, for
the horses belonging to the Indians became maddened with fear.  They
dashed this way and that, colliding with one another and overthrowing
the men who attempted to mount.  A second later a number of them
bolted, while Dudley and his party dashed through after them, shot
down some of the enemy, rode others into the grass, and then
disappeared in the darkness.  They were through.  The men pulled in
their horses and faced about, each one proud of the achievement, and
making ready for the next attempt by cramming cartridges into his
weapon.

[Illustration: ""DUDLEY'S REVOLVER SNAPPED SHARPLY""]

"Charge!"  Amidst all the babel, the frightened whinny of horses, the
hammering of hoofs, and the shrieks of the startled Indians, Pepito's
voice came clear to his comrades.  They heard the report of his
revolver, and then the confusion in the camp became even worse.  For
the gauchos placed under the young man's command were not going to
allow themselves to be beaten by their comrades.  The light from the
fires had allowed them to see how the charge of Dudley's men had
succeeded, and they raced after their leader with the firm
determination to gallop through the enemy and come clear on the far
side.  Very gallantly, too, did they carry out that determination.
They burst like a small wave on the savages, dashed them aside, and
then rode on, emptying their weapons as they rode.  A few minutes
later they joined the larger party, dishevelled after their
exertions, and grinning with excitement.

"Listen to our other friends!" said Pepito, suddenly jogging up to
Dudley's side as he was about to give the order for the charge to be
repeated.  "Listen, señor.  The seven are firing, and I think they
are calling to us.  There is a great disturbance over there."

They sat for a few seconds wondering what was happening, for the
noise from the camp, which was now as intense as before, and which
had spread on either side, was suddenly taken up on the far side of
the herd of cattle.  The gauchos were shouting, calling to their
comrades, it seemed, while the bellowing from the cattle was almost
deafening.  Then a flying figure came from behind them, and one of
the gauchos dashed up to Dudley.

"Lead the men this way, señor," he shouted eagerly.  "The herd is
moving.  It is out of hand.  The leaders are already running through
the camp.  Ride for your lives!"

He swung his beast round and made off, leaving Dudley wondering.  But
he had seen cattle stampede before, and knew well that fifty horsemen
would not stop their frantic rush.  It was news to hear that the herd
was in motion, but if true he must needs take notice of the warning.
Turning, he gave an order, and led his men at a gallop well to the
right.

"It was well that you came at once, señor," said Pietro, riding up to
him when the party had come to a halt.  "We attacked the guards who
looked to the cattle, and no doubt some of our shots hit the beasts.
They were already excited and suspicious, and suddenly they were off.
There was no stopping them, nor any need to do so, for they made
direct for the Indian camp, and at least half are galloping across it
now.  The only danger was lest you and our comrades should be caught.
I sent a messenger."

"Who found us, Pietro.  But what shall we do now?  These cattle have
upset my arrangements."

"They have changed a great defeat into a huge disaster, señor,"
answered the gaucho seriously.  "I told you that there were four
hundred of the Indians, and they knew that there were not more than
fifty of us, and also that we could not fetch reinforcements before
to-morrow.  You took them utterly by surprise, and no doubt cut them
up badly when you galloped through; but they would have rallied.
They were forced to do so, for their horses had stampeded as these
cattle are doing.  I say that they would have recovered from the
fright, and then our work would have been before us.  But now----"

"The cattle have removed that danger."

"The herd has stamped the Indian camp out of existence.  Many men are
being killed as we talk.  It is a disaster for them; for us it is a
magnificent victory the news of which will spread three hundred and
more miles on all sides, and will fill the settlers with delight and
courage.  The Indians will be long before they recover their courage.
I know that I am speaking the truth, my master.  The morning will
show you that these men are gone.  Some will be mounted, and every
horse will carry two, or even three; but the camp will tell its tale.
The señor has but to listen to the shouting."

Above the bellows of the stampeding oxen came the shrieks of men in
distress, while in all directions the Indians could be heard calling
to one another.

"We could read them an even more severe lesson," said Dudley.  "If,
as you say, they have lost many of their horses, we could catch them
up with ease and harry every foot of their retirement.  Indeed I
think it would be as well to follow and let them see how completely
we command the situation.  Perhaps it would do good in the future if
we captured some, and explained that such an attempt again would meet
with even worse punishment."

"I advise that we rest satisfied," was Pietro's answer, after some
moments' consideration.  "It is true that we might easily cut them up
again; but then they might be able to offer some resistance and kill
some of our number.  Better let them see us drawn up together and
watching their flight than interfere further.  Besides, we have the
cattle to think about.  They must be collected.  You may depend upon
it that not one of the Indians here to-day will wish to pay us
another visit unless helped by large numbers of comrades.  They may
raid other ranchos when they have got over their fright, but they
will hardly come back here, señor, unless they are helped as I have
said, and are burning for revenge."

Dudley and his men slipped from their horses when there was no longer
any fear of the cattle turning their way, and they squatted on the
pampas, and discussed the recent engagement.  The gauchos were filled
to the brim with excitement and pride.  They had never been in such a
fight before, and the memory of their charge made their pulses stir
still, and brought a flush to their dusky cheeks.  Then they
reflected that this Indian defeat would be the talk of the province,
and their conduct would be praised by one and all.  It was worth the
risk they had run, and if their young leader had asked them to try
again, they would have fallen in with his request willingly.

When day dawned, and the rolling pampas was disclosed to view, the
sweeping nature of the defeat from which the enemy had suffered
became more apparent.  Fortune had backed up the dash of the gauchos,
and the stampeding cattle had completed the work commenced by Dudley
and his men.  The camp, with its numerous fires, was trodden and
stamped out of existence.  There was a dull trail of bruised and
crushed grass running right over it and overlapping it far on either
side, a trail which went on into the distance, where the scattered
herd could now be seen, grazing peacefully.  And along the length of
that dark line were numbers of huddled figures, the Indians who had
fallen, some to the bullets of the gauchos, some ridden down by their
horses, but the greater number overwhelmed by the mad rush of the
herd.  Five miles away a sad gang of fugitives were riding fast from
the rancho, and as Pietro had said, the Indians had but few horses
amongst them.

"Mount!" shouted Dudley.  "Now we will follow those fellows, and just
let them see that we are still fresh and ready.  But we will not
touch them unless they attempt to retaliate.  I want them to see us
and learn the numbers of those who attacked them."

They galloped after the fleeing Indians, and very soon were within
three hundred yards of the unfortunate wretches.  There they pulled
rein and watched as the disconsolate warriors made off.  Some were on
foot, and limped along at the tails of the horses, while numbers sat
huddled on the beasts which they had managed to capture during the
conflict.  Some of the horses staggered under the weight of three
men, while there was not one that did not carry at least two.

"They would surrender to a man if we were to follow," said Dudley,
noticing the frantic efforts made by the Indians to increase their
distance, and their appearance of fatigue.  "Give them a shout, lads.
Now," he went on, when the gauchos had sent the enemy on their way
with a shout of defiance, "we will see to the cattle, and then report
to Mr. Blunt.  He went down to the port the day before yesterday,
promising to be back this evening."

When Dudley reached the house at dusk he found his employer waiting
for him, and he promptly made him acquainted with the events of the
past few hours.

"It is a fine tale, and makes my blood warm towards these gallant
gauchos," said Mr. Blunt when he had finished.  "They have done
magnificently, and you too, Dudley.  Yes, I have no doubt who led
them.  Answer me.  Was the plan not yours?"

Dudley admitted the fact with heightened color.

"I said as much.  Then my neighbors and I have to thank you for a
very fine victory, which will bring peace and security perhaps for
many a long day.  But we must not be over sanguine.  The man who
believes that he has shaken the courage of a treacherous foe such as
these Indians, and does not count on their spirit of revenge, lays
himself open to an unexpected attack and to annihilation.  We must
not forget that we are a buffer rancho as it were.  That we lie
between the Indians and our fellow ranchers, and that we must nearly
always bear the brunt of the attack."

"Then why not organize, sir?" demanded Dudley.  "As far as I can
gather, each grazier out on the pampas looks to himself for
protection.  Too often they are content to lose beasts, taking such
losses as a matter of course.  Now if you and the others were to
organize.  If you had some signal which would draw the attention of
all, some system of messengers, then you would be able to laugh at
the Indians.  Why not also build forts close to each corral?"

Mr. Blunt looked up sharply.  He was a man not altogether lacking in
original ideas, but was often content to take things as he found
them.  He had put up with Indian raids in the past as a matter of
course, as an evil to which all ranchers were liable.  He was always
ready to go to the help of others, and, indeed, would not have
hesitated to call in the succor of his friends.  But then he owned an
outlying estancia, peculiarly open to attack, and there had never
been time to call in help.  Dudley's late effort was the most
brilliant performance of which he had heard.  And now the lad
proposed an alliance with others, and the building of forts.

"What else?" demanded Mr. Blunt.

"I should arrange to muster two or three hundred men at the first
sign of an Indian invasion, and then I should not be content to beat
them off; I should follow them into their own country."

"And then?"

"I should wipe them out.  I should follow them a hundred miles, and
even more, burn their villages, sweep in their cattle, and, in short,
teach them such a lesson as they would hardly ever forget."

It was a bold suggestion, but none the less a sensible one.  It was
high time the ranchers on the pampas put a summary end to such
persecution from the Indians.  Their raids sometimes meant a very
considerable loss of cattle, and very often many men were killed.  It
was high time indeed that a bolder policy was decided on.

"Done!" cried Mr. Blunt, bringing one of his brawny fists down on to
the table.  "We will do it, Dudley, and you shall organize the
movement.  We will go fully into the matter to-morrow, and on the
following day will ride for Buenos Ayres, there to order the fittings
for our forts.  When they arrive, and the men are set to work, you
shall ride round and see all the estancia owners within a hundred
miles."

It was a bargain.  The two friends--for that they were, though one
was master and the other employé--gripped hands, and, having thus
shown their faith in each other, went off to their couches to sleep
and to prepare for the morrow.




CHAPTER X

AN IMPORTANT DISCUSSION

"For the first time for many a long day I suffered from
sleeplessness," said Mr. Blunt on the following morning, when he and
Dudley met.  "This idea of yours filled my mind so that my eyes would
not close.  I kept asking myself over and over again why I had been
content to go on, year in and year out, suffering these Indian raids,
when I might have made arrangements to call my friends after the very
first raid and follow the ruffians.  Then I thought of the poor
gauchos who had been killed, and finally I came to the conclusion
that I would not let another day pass without taking steps to carry
out your plan.  Now, lad, we will send for Pietro and give him his
orders.  Then we will mount and ride for the port.  Fortunately I
have business to attend to in Buenos Ayres, and shall be able to see
to it and to this other matter at the same time."

According to their usual custom they went to the stables, led out
their horses and watered them, afterwards feeding and grooming them.
And while the beasts ate in peace, the two sat down to their own
breakfast.  By the time the grooming was done, Pietro was there,
standing awkwardly before his employer, shuffling from one foot to
the other, and grinning so that his strong white teeth shone in the
morning sun.

"A fine day, master," he said in his quaint English.  "A grand day.
The hearts of the men are gay this morning.  The master has heard the
whole tale?"

"Heard the tale, and thanks his faithful and gallant gauchos,"
exclaimed Mr. Blunt, striding up to the swarthy foreman and gripping
his hand.  "My young manager has told me how well you all behaved,
and I can assure you that I am highly pleased.  Never before have the
Indians had such a lesson.  I am proud of my gauchos."

"And they of their master and his manager," came the answer, as
Pietro shuffled his feet and flushed under his dusky skin, while he
struck at the doorposts with the tail of his riding whip.  For the
tall owner of the rancho had a peculiar effect on his gauchos.  They
held him in great respect, always listened to what he had to say and
straightway obeyed.  It was seldom that they exchanged words with him.

"You sent for me, master," said Pietro at length; "what do you
desire?"

"That you should conduct the work of the rancho while we are absent.
Listen, Pietro!  My young manager, the gringo who so lately joined us
and showed an old hand how to shoot, has done a great deal for us."

"That is true, master," eagerly assented Pietro.  "Did he not lead us
yesterday?  Is not our success due to him?"

"To him and to those who supported him," was the answer.  "But he has
done more.  He has asked me why it is that I as well as other owners
of estancias on the pampas are content to put up with Indian raids,
to suffer the loss of cattle and men."

The gaucho's dark eyebrows were elevated, while he flicked with his
whip at the doorpost.

"It is not a question of why, master," he said.  "Up till yesterday
we have followed one plan, and one only.  The señor gave us another,
and well it worked.  But I fear we shall have to go on as before.
Who can say when these Indians will come again?  I think it may be a
year or more, for they have been soundly beaten.  But they are fierce
fighters, and they must hate us very sorely.  If they think that
there is a chance of success they will raid us again, and then it
will not be cattle alone for which they will come."

"I agree.  They will endeavor to wipe us all out, so as to satisfy
their thirst for revenge."

"That is so, master.  They will kill every man here, and torture as
many as possible."

"Then tell, me, Pietro, do you and your comrades wish to be tortured,
to be suddenly set upon and killed by the Indians?"

The gaucho started and flushed again, while a puzzled expression came
over his face.

"Surely not, master," he said quickly.  "But there is always the
danger, and how can we avoid it?"

"Come into the house and I will tell you," answered Mr. Blunt shortly.

Turning, they went into the one big room and sat down at the table,
on which the tall Englishman spread out a plan of the Entre Rios
country, which showed the estancia stretched out on the pampas.

"We are here," he said, putting his finger on a wide stretch marked
"Mr. Blunt's estancia."  "You see we are close to the Indian country,
which extends beyond us into the interior.  The Indians have for many
years now been moving closer to the ranchos, for they are then within
reach of the beasts they steal, and still so much in the wilds that
the gauchos and their masters do not care to follow.  But we shall do
that.  The señor here has proposed that we build forts close to each
corral.  Into those forts our men can dash when the Indians appear,
and if they have time to drive the beasts into the corral, all the
better, for then their rifles will be able to keep the enemy from
touching them.  You know that Indians like to fall upon their victims
when they are least expected, and do not care to attack houses and
forts."

"That is true, señor.  They are cowards at heart, I think.  Cruel and
fierce when all is in their favor, but wanting in dash at other
times.  They would not easily take a fort.  This plan promises well,
for it will save the lives of men and many valuable beasts."

"It might do even more," suddenly interposed Dudley.  "A flare might
be arranged at the top of each fort, and fire be put to it the
instant the Indians appeared.  The smoke would be seen during the
day, and the flame at night.  That would spread the alarm, so that
the gauchos all over the estancia would know within a few minutes of
the Indians' coming."

"And at once ride here," cried Mr. Blunt.  "That is a good suggestion
and shall be adopted.  Now, Pietro, what have you to say to all this?"

"What can I say, señor, but that the scheme promises well?  I can see
that a fort close to each corral will allow the gauchos to reach
safety before the Indians come; for if a tower be built, a watchman
can be stationed there and give early warning.  Then there is a flare
to warn all the rest, and while they assemble, the fort and the
beasts in the corral will occupy the attention of the Indians.  They
will find us ready, and their rush will fail.  There will be
fighting, and they will retire at once, unless they are in great
strength, when the señors will send for help and drive them away."

"We shall do more," said Mr. Blunt briskly.  "The young señor
proposes that we call in our neighbors, and that we follow a hundred
and more miles if necessary, till we come up with the raiders, and
destroy them and their villages.  What do you think of that plan?"

The sturdy gaucho opened his eyes very wide at the news, for never
before had such a suggestion been made.  Indeed, as the reader will
have already gathered, the owners of the ranchos and their gauchos
had hitherto been satisfied if all their beasts were not taken.
Retaliation was as a rule out of the question, while the Indian
country was practically unexplored, and was supposed to be wild and
waterless, and to offer great danger to those who did not know it.
Pietro had had food for reflection during the last two hours.  Like
Mr. Blunt, he had seen that another course was possible, for Dudley's
tactics had been eminently successful.  But to hear now that still
more was intended--that a more vigorous and pugnacious policy was to
be followed, and every effort made not only to defend the rancho
against Indian attack, but to follow and punish the marauders,
astounded him.  He struck his overalls a sounding thwack with his
whip, and stared, open-mouthed, at his master.  Then his eyes turned
to Dudley, and he smiled.

"This proposition," he said, "comes from the young señor?"

"It does.  I have agreed to the plan and have been thinking out the
details."

"Then what is good to the señor and his manager is good also to me
and my comrades.  If the Indians come we will enter the forts and
hold them.  Afterwards we will go with our masters and do our utmost
to slay every one of the ruffians.  Then shall we be able to ranch in
peace and security.  We and our wives shall no longer be in dread of
a sudden night attack, of torture, and of a violent death.  The señor
goes now and wishes me to look after the rancho?"

"That is so.  We shall be gone for two weeks, perhaps, and in that
time there need be no fear of the Indians.  It will take us six
months to build our forts, and by then perhaps the enemy will have
recovered from their beating, and will be considering another attack.
Now, Pietro, you will go to the men and tell them what you have
heard.  Let them know that the plan is the young señor's, and that I
fully agree with it."

The sturdy gaucho went off, flicking his whip, and Dudley and his
employer watched the active fellow walk up to his horse, which stood
out by the well with the reins dangling loosely on its neck.  He
seemed to kick the ground with his feet and in a moment was in the
saddle.  No need for Pietro to wait to get his stirrups.  The horse
bounded off, the whip cracked like a pistol, and the foreman of the
gauchos raced away like the wind, eager to tell his tale and let all
know what was about to happen.

"Now we will pack our valises and go," said Mr. Blunt.  "Pepito will
accompany us to the port and will return with the horses.  I shall
give him orders to bring them again within two weeks, for our
business will take us quite a week and the rest of the time will be
spent on the river.  As we sail down stream we will go carefully into
this matter, and draw up a list of articles which will be required."

Within half an hour the two were mounted and riding from the rancho,
while Pepito, his dusky face aglow with pride, sat a beautiful horse
just behind them.  Across the pommel of his saddle was slung the coil
of his bolas, while the barrel of his rifle stuck up clear behind his
head, for he had slung the weapon.  A gallant and handsome fellow he
looked, too, for this Pepito was barely twenty-three, and as fine a
specimen of the gaucho cowboy as could be met with.  He was tall,
slim, and extremely active.  He sat his horse as if he had been born
in the saddle, his knees close in, his toes just engaging the
stirrups, and the whole poise of his body denoting comfort and ease.
And yet he sat on a horse which barely four weeks before had been
rounded up from a herd of wild horses grazing out on the pampas, a
big, handsome gray which danced from side to side as they rode,
tossing its head, and clanking its bit, while every rolling leaf,
every shadow or reflection of the sun sent it shying to one side, or
prancing till its fore feet pawed the air; and its rider sat a saddle
which gave little or no support.

Dudley and his employer, too, made a handsome picture as they rode
side by side.  They sat their saddles with that easy grace which
comes to men who ride every day and for a great part of the day.  No
longer did the huge spurs which were strapped to Dudley's heels
trouble him.  He hardly knew that they were there, for practice does
wonders.

Chatting together as they rode, trotting at times, and at others
going at a gentle amble, they finally reached their camping ground
for the night, and slid from their horses.  It took but a little
while to water the beasts and to feed them, when, leaving them to the
enjoyment of their meal, Dudley and his employer went for a stroll,
while Pepito, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, lit a fire, placed a
kettle upon it, and skewered a piece of deer flesh on his ramrod.
Presently the meal was ready, and when it was finished, and Mr. Blunt
had smoked his cigar, saddles were placed on end, blankets laid on
the ground, and in a little while the three were sleeping, their
ponchos wrapped well round them, and only the stars above to look
down upon their recumbent figures.

On the following afternoon they reached the port at which Dudley had
first disembarked, and were lucky in getting a boat at once.

"One never knows how they will be running," said Mr. Blunt, "and I
have made it a practice, when going down to the coast, to send in a
messenger a few days before to get tidings of the boats.  This is
luck, and in a matter of three days we shall be at Buenos Ayres.  On
the way down we will go thoroughly into these matters we have been
speaking of."

Two days later, after a most pleasant sail down the Paraná, they
arrived at their destination, and Mr. Blunt at once led the way to a
business house with which he was acquainted.

"I have an agent here who buys my cattle," he said.  "The beasts are
driven to slaughterhouses near the river, and there the flesh is
dried.  Boats lie alongside the little dock, and at once carry the
dried flesh, the hides, and hoofs, and horns, down to Buenos Ayres.
It is a good arrangement, for once the beasts are handed over by my
gauchos I have no further trouble.  The time has come to clear some
of the herds out, and that is partly the reason of my visit here.
Now, this is the house.  You will see that my friends here will be
able to supply us with all that we want.  They are general agents,
and buy or sell everything from live beasts to nails and tinned
tacks."

The firm to which he went were indeed exceedingly up-to-date, and
once they had ascertained Mr. Blunt's wants, and had looked over his
lists, they declared that they could obtain all the articles within
three days.

"The guns we shall get here, as well as ammunition," said the
manager.  "Then the tools, nails, and other things are in this store,
so that they will not delay you.  The wood is the only difficulty.
You say, Mr. Blunt, that there is not sufficient up near your
estancia?"

"That is so," was the answer.  "What there is, is too small.
Besides, I haven't men enough to spare for cutting.  It will be
cheaper to buy round or squared logs and ship them to the cattle
station.  From there they can be carted to the corrals.  That reminds
me, I shall want a couple of dozen extra hands to help with the
buildings."

In half an hour the details of the whole order had been arranged.
Mr. Blunt was advised to charter a boat to carry all the stores to be
obtained in Buenos Ayres, and to pick up his logs at a port higher up
the river, where it would be cheaper.

"You will have to send up several loads, without doubt," said the
manager, "for one of the boats would not carry enough for one fort
even.  The boat will be chartered this evening, and the loading can
commence to-morrow.  I will engage a couple of dozen men, if
possible, and they can go up with you."

So excellent were the arrangements that within four days Mr. Blunt
and Dudley found themselves embarked on a river boat, and standing up
the stream for the port where they were to pick up wood for the
forts.  On board, besides rifles and tools, they had seven men, whom
they had engaged to undertake the building operations, and these
individuals were engaged at that moment in sprawling on the deck
forward and smoking vigorously.

"Not a very taking lot of fellows," said Mr. Blunt in low tones, as
he and Dudley emerged from the small cabin which had been given up to
them, and stepped on the deck.  "They are, I expect, the men who are
always open to casual labor, and who lounge about the docks looking
for odd jobs.  However, we shall see little of them, and Pietro and
his gauchos will keep them in order.  Now, all we want is a smart
breeze to take us swiftly up the river."

Fortune seemed to smile upon them in this expedition, for they held a
brisk and favoring breeze all that day and the next, and when the
second night came they were anchored off the port where they were to
take in the wood.  A couple of cables were passed out from the bow
and stern, and made fast to the wharf, while a plank was thrown
across to the latter, enabling all to land at their pleasure, a
privilege of which the hands who had been engaged at once took
advantage.  Mr. Blunt and Dudley ate their evening meal, and having
strolled ashore for a time returned to their cabin.

"I would far rather we had not put in so close to the shore," said
the former, "for it has given those men of ours a chance to get into
the town, which seems to consist mostly of saloons.  They are rough
fellows, and the chances are they will hardly be fit for work early
in the morning.  Those must be our logs piled on the wharf, and I
reckon four hours work will see them all aboard.  That should allow
us to reach the cattle station where they are to be unloaded in about
twenty-four hours, so that we shall be back at the rancho within the
time we mentioned."

They sat chatting for a little while, and presently, finding the
fumes of his employer's cigar just a little strong in the confined
space of the cabin, Dudley went out on deck and strolled up and down.

"Pitch dark," he said to himself, looking up at the sky, and then at
the dim oil lamps on shore.  "I think Mr. Blunt must be right about
the men, for there is a great commotion going on over there.  It
sounds as if they were fighting in one of the saloons.  And what's
that?"

The creak of a block and the thud of a rope on the deck of a boat a
little distance away attracted his attention, and for some few
minutes he stood quite still, listening to the commotion from the
saloons on shore and to the sounds from the river.

"Evidently another boat has put in for the night," he said.  "There
goes her anchor, and I suppose we shall see her in the morning.  It
is so dark that one cannot see a foot in front of one's face."

As he stood on the deck of the river boat he distinctly heard the
splash of an anchor falling into the water, and the low call of men
pulling at the cable.  It did not strike him then that the noise they
made was subdued, as if they were afraid of attracting the attention
of the people on the quay or those aboard the other boat moored close
to it.  He listened for a while, and then went into the cabin, where
he found Mr. Blunt still smoking.

"How's the night?" asked Mr. Blunt.  "Dark?  Then I am glad we are at
rest, for there are rocks and sand-banks up in these reaches of the
river, and it is not nice to be stranded on them.  That is why the
majority of boats tie up at night.  What of the men?"

"There is a good deal of noise from the saloons in the town,"
answered Dudley.  "It sounds as if they were quarrelling."

"I should not wonder," was the reply.  "They are a set of
ne'er-do-wells, who enjoy a rough and tumble in the saloons.  It
would not surprise me if one or more were hurt.  The gauchos who come
in from the estancias are wonderfully polite as a rule, but when they
get to the saloons, and have indulged somewhat freely in the bad
spirit to be obtained there, they become quarrelsome.  It does not
take a gaucho a second to produce a revolver, and when shooting
begins someone is sure to be killed.  They are, in fact, every bit as
wild as the cowboys in North America.  Ah!  That was a shot.  Well,
we cannot interfere, but I hope that those foolish fellows have not
got into trouble."

He stifled a yawn, flung the stump of his cigar through the port, and
lay back in his seat.  As for Dudley, the silence of the river had
some fascination for him, or perhaps the sudden and quiet arrival of
the other boat had aroused his suspicions.  He went out on the deck
again, and paced restlessly to and fro, listening intently, starting
when a yard creaked, and straining his ears to catch every sound.  He
could see a light now across the water some fifty yards away, and now
and again thought he heard the sound of voices.

"Perhaps they are having a late meal before turning in," he thought.
"But I cannot make out why they are so silent.  As a rule one hears a
mandolin playing, and some fellow singing to the stars.  They are so
suspiciously silent!"

Half an hour later, unable to make anything of the strangers, and
satisfied that there was really nothing to be alarmed about, he went
to the cabin again, and reported that the town was quiet, and that as
yet there was no sign of the men who had left the vessel.

"They will appear in the early hours of the morning," said Mr. Blunt,
"and no doubt we shall be awakened by their singing.  Time to turn
in, Dudley; we have work before us on the morrow."

Throwing themselves, fully dressed as they were, upon the cushions on
either side of the cabin, they closed their eyes and were soon fast
asleep, the feeble rays from a swinging candle light shining upon
their figures, while the silence of the cabin was broken by their
heavy breathing and by the drone of the many mosquitoes infesting the
river.  Now and again there was a sound from the neighboring boat,
but it did not disturb them.  They suspected no danger from that
quarter, and would not have troubled had the boat lain alongside
their own.  If, however, they could have looked into the cabin aboard
that ship they would have thought otherwise, for gathered there were
more than half a dozen cut-throats, all smoking, and all drinking out
of tin mugs, which they replenished liberally from a big stone jar.
They sat in the narrow place about a long table, at the head of which
was a bearded individual, tall and lean, and with a malignant cast of
countenance.  To look at him under the flickering rays of the smoky
lamp he might have been of any nationality.  He was swarthy enough
almost to be an Indian or a gaucho, and yet he lacked the upright
carriage, the direct manner, of those wild men of the pampas.
Certainly he was not an Englishman, while his language seemed to
indicate that he was an Italian.  He was speaking in low tones to his
comrades, sometimes addressing them in Italian, sometimes in
Portuguese, and at times throwing a word of explanation in English to
a haggard individual who sat at the far end of the table.

The latter had the cut of a sailor, and any doubt there might have
been on that subject was set at rest by his nautical language.  He
was an Englishman, a down-at-heels sailor, and most likely had
deserted from one of the many sailing ships which put in every week
at Montevideo.  He was dressed in ragged clothing, wore a week's
growth of stubbly beard on his chin, and was altogether as
disreputable as one could expect to see.  The others were much the
same as those who had been engaged by Mr. Blunt for building
operations on the rancho, except that they had the cut of gauchos.
They wore riding overalls too, and had spurs at their heels, a fact
which went far to prove that they were used to horses and to the
pampas.

"You have the plan nicely in your heads, comrades," said their
spokesman, draining his pannikin.  "You are poor?"

"Poor!  As poor as mice who live in a church," laughed one of the
men.  "We have not a dozen coins to toss among us.  We are at the end
of our tether, and look to you and other kind friends to help us to
improve our fortunes."

"Then you have an easy way before you," went on the leader, leering
round at the men.  "A friend of mine in Montevideo has pointed out a
way in which we can all gain wealth easily.  You have heard of the
estancias and their owners?  Yes, I see that you have.  Well, are
they not wealthy?"

"As rich as bankers," came the answer.  "When they have paid their
gauchos, and sold their cattle, they have money in hand.  I should
know, considering that I spent a dozen years on the pampas."

"And you also know the time when their cattle are sold.  Twice a
year, is it not, comrade?"

"That's correct.  Twice a year, and just now is one of the times.
The owners have money to chink, and many will not have banked it yet."

"That is just what my friend said.  He advised us to form a band to
raid these estancias, and to gather what money we could.  We commence
with this man called Blunt."

The English sailor pricked up his ears at that, and asked a question
in very indifferent Portuguese.

"Blunt?" he said.  "That's an Englishman.  Who is he?"

"A great friend of my friend's," came the leering answer.  "So great
a friend that we are to attack him first.  He is in the boat lying
below us.  Now, comrades, can you say why I induced our captain to
haul in here above that other boat?  No?  Then I will explain.  If we
slacken the ropes we shall be carried down silently against the boat,
and then----"

The ruffian touched his knife significantly.

"In an hour or two, perhaps," he said.  "Our comrades will have
returned from the saloons by then, and will be ready to help us.
Till then we can smoke."

He reached out for the spirits and replenished his pannikin with
liberal hand.  Then he continued to chatter in low tones with his
comrades.  As for the sailor, he was a garrulous ruffian, and had
imbibed sufficient spirit to make him even more talkative.  He found
it lonely to sit at the table while men conversed in an unknown
language, and presently, feeling that he too must chatter, he turned
on his seat, stretched out a grimy paw, and shook someone who lay
asleep on one of the long benches against the wall of the cabin.  A
tall, slim young man sat up, rubbing his eyes, and stared round at
the group about the table with every sign of annoyance and disgust.
Indeed, a glance at him was sufficient to show that he was of a
different stamp entirely.  He was dressed as a gaucho but hardly had
the appearance of one of those fine fellows.  His cheeks were not
tanned, and his hands looked as if they had done little work.  Still,
for all that, he was sturdy enough, and, if one might venture a
guess, was decidedly English.  In fact he had only recently arrived
out from England, and had taken a passage up the river in this
particular boat.

"What is it?" he demanded curtly, for he had kept aloof from his
fellow passengers.  "What do you want?  I am sleepy and wish to be
left alone."

"Oh ho, so you're sleepy!" answered the sailor huskily.  "Well, my
bird, you needn't look so ugly.  You don't understand the lingo of
these here fellers, now, do yer?  Well, nor don't I, 'cept when the
chap with the beard speaks in Portuguese or the English he's got.
But you can understand me, I reckon, and so we'll have a chat.  How'd
yer like to join to-night, and make a pile from the chap in that boat
down below us?"




CHAPTER XI

WHITE BRIGANDS

The River Paraná and its neighborhood were, in the days of which we
write, not always very secure for travellers.  To begin with,
revolutions and conflicts between the states into which South America
was divided were of somewhat frequent occurrence, and then it is only
to be expected that, being so close to the ranchos, and the hundreds
of gauchos employed there, rowdyism and ruffianism were of occasional
occurrence.  The unfortunate owners of the estancias had not only
Indians and their raids to fear.  They were often enough wealthy men,
for there was always a demand for cattle, and the very fact of their
having wealth often proved an attraction to the many ne'er-do-wells
who had come to the country to try their luck, or to join some
revolutionary band.  There had been raids on estancias by white men
before then, and piratical attacks on the river were not entirely
unknown.  But to the English youth who had taken a passage in the
boat which lay a few yards higher up the river than the one which Mr.
Blunt had chartered, such an attempt was a matter for intense
surprise.  He was a stranger in the country, and knew nothing of the
inhabitants, or he would never have taken passage with such a set of
ruffians.

"Make a pile!" he exclaimed while he stared through the smoke of the
cabin at the ragged and ill-kempt sailor.  "What do you mean?  You
can't----"

"That's jest where you make the error, young feller," interrupted the
man, taking a much-blackened clay from between his lips.  "For a chap
as has got nothing there ain't a country to come up to this.  Look at
me.  Do I give the impression of having money?"

"Hardly!" came the cautious answer.

"That's jest it.  There ain't a single coin in my pockets, and I was
starving till these fellows came along."

"'Can yer ride?' asks the chap with the beard.

"'Jest a bit,' I answered, for a sailor can stick on most things.
Then he got talking, and as a result I signed on for this here
voyage.  We're goin' up to the pampas to wipe out the ranchers.
They're worth a pile, and we'll skin 'em of every shillin'.  We're
starting with the fellow lyin' in the boat below.  He's got heaps of
money, they say, and I've a notion that blackbeard over there has a
grudge against him.  That's the job, shaver.  We start to-night, and
it seems to me, seeing as you're English, as you'd better sail in
company with us, and get a share.  What say?"

For a moment or two the young fellow listening looked as if he would
return an indignant reply to such a suggestion.  But he happened to
cast his eye round at the faces about the table, and then at the
unshaven cheeks of the sailor.

"A set of ruffians to look at them," he said to himself.  "And they
seem as if they would stop at nothing.  How on earth I was fool
enough to take a passage with them I cannot say.  But it is done now,
and cannot be helped.  He said this man to be attacked was English."

"Who is the rancher you are going to attack?" he asked cautiously,
suddenly determining to get all the information possible.

"Who is the feller?  Well, can't say as I know or care.  He's
English, else his name wouldn't be Blunt, would it? and he's got the
coin.  What more do you want to know?  Eh?  How it's to be done?
Simple as standin', shaver.  We've a cable with an anchor down at the
bottom of the river, and there's slack enough to let us down stream
quite a lot.  See now!  We just drop quiet and easy down on the boat
below, and before them chaps can shout, whew!"

He drew his hand significantly across his neck, and leered at the lad
who listened.

"Jest like that," he said, grinning so that his blackened teeth
showed.  "They ain't got a dog's chance.  Reckon we'll start this
game by makin' a fine haul, and spendin' a week in the saloons."

Little by little, and speaking in an undertone, the young man wormed
the plot out of the sailor, and when he had done so he lay down again
for a while, having deferred his consent till he had considered the
matter.  Later he sat up again, for the sailor pulled at his clothing.

"Guess you've decided to come in," he said.  "Ef so, I'll speak to
blackbeard over there and make it right.  I thought at first as you
was a toff, with brass in your pocket.  But there's many sich as you
comes out to this country to work, and who live down in the towns
till their money's gone.  Then it's hard to get a job, special ef you
ain't used to the ranches.  Then's the time when a feller jumps to
join a band like this.  Why, I can see that there ain't goin' ter be
too much hard work.  There'll be better grub than a sailor gets
aboard ship, and if we've luck, there'll be coin in plenty.  You'll
join?"

"Yes, I'll come in.  You can book me as one of the number," was the
answer, while the young man glanced round at the gang in the cabin, a
look of half-suppressed aversion and fear on his face.  "You make the
terms with them while I go on deck.  This cabin is stuffy, and I feel
as if I wanted a mouthful of air."

"Best a mouthful of spirit," growled the sailor, rolling in his seat.
"Hi, there! jest pass the bottle and a pannikin.  The shaver here
wishes for a draught."

But the crew of ruffians happened at that moment to be deeply engaged
in conversation, and took no heed of the call.  The young man rose,
hastily declined the drink, and retreated from the cabin.

"Blest ef I understand the shaver!" grumbled the sailor.  "Never knew
a white man refuse before.  Eh?  What's he gone for?  A mouthful of
air, of course."

The black-bearded individual at the head of the table had suddenly
broken off his conversation with his fellow conspirators, and asked
the sailor a question, while he followed the retreating figure of the
youth with suspicious eyes.

"Who is he?" he asked.  "And where is he going?"

"Who?  Why, a chum of mine," roared the sailor, toying with his
pannikin.  "I've been talkin' to him, and it seems as he's like us.
He's in want of coin too, and he's eager to join.  He can ride a bit,
so he'll be useful later.  'Sides, it's a good thing to have a shaver
to wait on us older men.  He's right, capt'n, so don't you get
follerin'."

"Right or not, he'd best behave himself," answered the leader of the
gang, casting a menacing glance towards the door, and then turning
with a scowl to his companions.  "This scum of an Englishman will
suit us for a time," he went on in his own tongue; "but I begin to
see that he will be a nuisance.  He is quarrelsome, and will want too
much perhaps.  Well, if it comes to that, there is a way of removing
the man."

A sinister look passed between the men at the table as they glanced
at one another.  Indeed they were a band of ruffians who understood
one another perfectly, and, if the truth were known, had been on more
than one of these lawless expeditions.  The condition of the country
favored them, for the ranchers had no protection other than what they
supplied themselves, and the vast extent of their holdings, the great
distances which separated them, were in favor of the ruffians who
raided their estancias.  At times, indeed, the bands of freebooters
who roamed the pampas, and threw in their lot with the Indians, were
a source of great danger to the graziers.  For these white men, a
collection from the riffraff of the towns, made no pretence of
seizing cattle.  They left that to the Indians, and threw it out as a
bait to obtain their help.  They organized the raids, left the
Indians to round up what cattle they could lay their hands on, and
promptly made for the estancia, where revolvers were used
mercilessly, the house swept clean of all its valuables, and too
often the owner shot in cold blood on his doorstep.  Such things had
occurred many a time, so that the graziers had had to band together
for self protection.  Then, when the net began to close in on the
raiders, and matters began to look menacing for them, they would
leave their Indian allies, and, splitting up, would ride for the
coast towns again, there to spend their ill-gotten wealth in the
saloons, and wait till an opportunity for further violence occurred.

The young fellow who had been in the cabin emerged on to the deck and
walked rapidly to the stern.  While in the cabin, under the eyes of
the sailor, he had maintained an appearance of coolness and
indifference; but now, when he was alone on the deck, beads of
perspiration burst from his forehead, his hands closed convulsively,
and he showed every indication of distress.

"To think that I was fool enough to take a passage with such a set!"
he groaned.  "To me, so new to this country, all these fellows look
alike.  They are rough, ill-dressed, and very free and easy in their
manners.  I never imagined for a moment that these fellows were other
than ranchers returning to their work.  What am I to do?"

He stood leaning on the rail of the river boat, his eyes fixed upon
the lights from the saloons ashore, while he listened to the songs
and shouts which issued from them.  Then his attention was caught by
a faint glimmer some yards astern, and, having peered into the
darkness for some few minutes, he was able to detect the outline of
the boat in which Mr. Blunt and Dudley were sleeping.

"Ah, I see the plan!" he said.  "These ruffians slack off their cable
and float down on that boat, then they board her.  The sailor said
that they had friends ashore who would rush to help them by means of
the gangway stretching from the boat to the wharf.  After that----
Goodness, it means murder!  The fellow said as much.  They will kill
this Englishman and take all that he has got."

The very thought set the young fellow trembling with excitement.  He
walked feverishly up and down the deck, muttering beneath his breath,
and endeavoring to make up his mind to some course of action.  For in
a flash he realized a fact which had been slowly dawning upon him for
the last half-hour, a fact which a shrewder youth would have gathered
in an instant.  He, a young Englishman, fresh from home and entirely
ignorant of the country and its people, had by chance fallen in with
a gang of desperadoes who were about to attack a fellow countryman of
his and to murder him.  By pure chance he had become acquainted with
their plans, and now he alone stood between the victim and his
attackers.  Ought he to move in the matter?  Why should he?  It was
not his affair.  This Englishman was an entire stranger to him, and
why should he incur danger for a stranger?

The thoughts flashed through his brain as he walked feverishly up and
down.  Conscience, common sense, his own manhood, told him that he
ought to act, that it was his duty to do something; while fear of the
consequences to himself and his own natural want of resolution held
him back, and kept him answering the calls for action with excuses.
He was in a pitiable condition, and, had he been left to himself,
might have walked the deck for an hour before coming to some
conclusion.  However, it happened that a minute later the cabin door
burst open with a bang, and the sailor reeled out on to the deck.
Despite his condition, this ruffian still had sufficient sense about
him to realize that noise might warn the people in the neighboring
boat, and if he had not had that sense, the leader of the band
quickly reminded him.

"Be silent!" he called out peremptorily.  "You will wake everyone
with your clumsiness.  Come back to the cabin."

"Right, shipmate!  I jest thought I'd get on deck to look to the
shaver.  So there yer are, taking a mouthful of air.  Jest you come
along below, youngster."

The man was suspicious.  There was something about this young fellow
that he did not understand, and though a few minutes before he had
been sure that he had gained an eager recruit for the band, for the
stranger's reception of the details of the plot had been all that he
could have wished for, his absence now, his disinclination to drink
with his new comrades, awoke suspicion in the drink-soddened mind of
the sailor.

"Jest you step below, me hearty," he said huskily; "capt'n's orders
is that all hands keeps under hatches till the time comes."

"In a minute!  I am watching the shore, for I think I see men
moving," was the hasty answer.  "Go below yourself, and say that I am
keeping a watch.  I will come and tell you if anything happens."

The answer seemed to satisfy the man, for he reeled back to the cabin
and informed the leader that the young stranger was keeping a watch
on deck.

"There ain't no harm in that," he growled, feeling that he ought to
support his countryman.  "The lad will tell us what's goin'.  Leave
him alone."

The door closed to again as the black-bearded rascal gave a grudging
assent, and once more the youth was alone in the darkness.  But the
sudden interruption had had its effect.  He saw that at any moment he
might be disturbed again, and that if he did not act swiftly he might
even find himself involved in this foul conspiracy, and obliged to
follow the ruffians.

"Besides, it is not of myself I have to think," he muttered; "there
is this other Englishman.  His life is really in my hands, and I am
going to do something.  No more hesitating for me.  I am a coward to
have delayed so long already."

He stood again by the rail for a few seconds, thinking out a plan of
action, and then walked on tiptoe to the stern of the boat.  There
was the little twinkling light again, some twenty or thirty yards
astern, a guiding star in the darkness.  He stared at it, measuring
the distance between the two vessels, and then, clutching the rail,
leaned over as far as possible.

"Pretty low in the water," he said.  "With an effort I might reach
the rail.  Then there are the cables to be thought of.  If I cannot
climb aboard her from the riverside I will try to grip one of the
cables.  If that is out of the question, I shall get ashore and cross
by the gangway."

Feverishly he began to cast off his spurs and boots, for the cabin
door might open at any moment.  Moreover this young fellow knew
himself and his own nature.  Irresolution was his besetting fault,
and many a time in the past had he suffered on that account.  This
time he determined there should be more courageous action.  He would
not change his mind now, and, so that there should be no opportunity,
he cast his clothing from him as swiftly as he was able, knowing well
that once he was in his shirt sleeves the die was cast; for if the
ruffians in the cabin came upon him then, even their soddened minds
would take in the situation.  They would grasp his intentions in an
instant, and would realize that this their latest recruit was about
to swim to the neighboring boat and give warning of their murderous
intentions.  Yes, and they would shoot him without mercy, of that he
felt sure.

"Better die in trying to do a good turn to this other fellow, and my
plain duty, than hang behind and become the companion of ruffians and
murderers," he said.  "There go the spurs and boots, and off come the
overalls and coat.  Now I'm ready.  I want a rope to throw over the
side so as to allow me to enter the water quietly."

He tiptoed across the deck again, but without success, and it was not
till he had been the complete round of the rail that he came upon a
coil of rope lying in the scuppers.  Creeping aft again, he secured
one end to the rail and lowered the other into the water.  Then he
took one last look at the cabin door, beneath which there was a long
and narrow streak of light, while from the interior came the murmur
of voices.  The young fellow could see in his mind's eye the figures
of the men slouching about the table, the bearded face and cunning,
lowering look of the leader, the unshaven, dirty features of the
sailor, and the dissipated appearance of the gauchos.  He could
imagine the reek of smoke and strong tobacco in the stuffy little
place, the tin pannikins and the stone spirit jar.  The very memory
of such loathsome companions threw cold water on any fears which he
still might possess, and strengthened his resolution.  He gave one
more glance at the streak of light issuing from beneath the door,
looked away at the twinkling glimmer, and stepped on to the rail.  A
moment later he was outside it, one hand gripping tightly and the
other feeling for the rope.  Then suddenly something else attracted
his attention, and kept him clinging there.  There was a commotion
ashore, and a blaze of light came unexpectedly from one of the
saloons, showing that the door had been thrown wide open.  Out into
the broad patch of light which streamed from the saloon emerged the
men whom Mr. Blunt had engaged to work on his rancho.  They were
shouting and singing, and clinging arm to arm.  They rolled from the
doorway, reeled across the street, and then were suddenly blotted out
in the darkness of the night, for someone had closed the door of the
saloon.  But still they were there, reeling back towards their boat,
for their shouts and choruses told of their presence.

"That should wake this Englishman, if anything will," thought the
young fellow clinging to the rail.  "Surely the noise they are making
will warn him that trouble is brewing and will put him on his guard.
Shall I go after all?"

A glance at the dull outline of his clothes lying on the deck a few
inches away told him that there was no turning back, that he must go
on with his part of the undertaking, while, had that been
insufficient to warn him, a second later he had ample assurance that
further stay on the boat would be dangerous alike to him and to the
man who was threatened; for the door of the cabin burst open again,
and the men who had been lounging over the table rushed on deck.
Running to the rails, they stared across the strip of river at the
spot from which the noise came.

"The fools!" cried their leader.  "They will warn the Englishman with
their clatter.  They will wake him and spoil our plans."

"Not if you set to at once," suddenly burst in the sailor, who had
grasped the man's meaning.  "Slip the cable now and float down.
Chances are that this Mr. Blunt expected as much when he saw them go
ashore.  He'll wake for sure, and he'll wait while they turn in.
Then he'll sleep again, if these fools don't quarrel with him right
away and spoil everything.  Best slip the cable now and get aboard
the boat before they arrive."

He spoke in English, and led the way at once to the bow of the boat.
In a second the others were following, and almost before the young
fellow hanging to the rail could grasp their intentions they were
slacking out the cable with feverish energy, doing their utmost to
reach their victim before the gang of men ashore could upset their
plans.

It was time to move.  If the Englishman aboard the neighboring boat
was to be warned it must be at once.  The young fellow glanced back
at the twinkling light again, and at once slid down the rope,
entering the water without so much as a splash.  Then he struck out
boldly, and in a few minutes was well away from the vessel.

"There is still time to give the warning," he thought, as he thrust
the water behind him.  "If only I can get aboard before these men I
shall have done something."

As he made his way through the water he thought of the ruffians
behind him laboring at the cable, and of those ashore.  He knew very
well that the first, if they caught sight of his figure, would guess
his object and would fire on him.  The fear of such an occurrence
made him long to turn round to look back at the men, and make sure
that he was as yet undiscovered.  But that meant delay, and, throwing
aside the fear at once, he went on manfully, his eye fixed upon the
glimmering light, now very much nearer.  Not a shout disturbed him,
and even the men ashore seemed to have awakened to the fact that the
noise they had been making would ruin their plans.  They were silent
now, and if only the darkness had not hidden them, they could have
been seen creeping down to the landing stage, revolver in hand, ready
to aid their comrades.  Then, too, if the sides of the vessel in
which Mr. Blunt and Dudley lay had not been impenetrable to the eye,
this young and gallant fellow would have known that the man upon whom
the attack was to be made lay in his bunk, wrapped in a blanket,
looking uneasily at the door.  He was wide awake, as was his
companion, and evidently somewhat upset by the noise which till a
moment before had been coming from the shore.

"As I thought," he said in low tones.  "That is the worst of tying up
to the bank within reach of saloons, and a lesson to employ, whenever
possible, a different stamp of men.  Those fellows have been
drinking, and may be quarrelsome.  We will not appear if they call to
us.  Let us pretend to be asleep, for then there can be no quarrel,
and perhaps they will turn in quietly.  Ah, they have become silent!
That's an excellent sign."

"What's that?"  It was Dudley who suddenly sat up and asked the
question, for he had heard a splash close alongside, and the noise
had been repeated.

"Perhaps a floating log," answered Mr. Blunt.  "Nothing to be alarmed
at.  Ah, that's one arrival!"

There was a bang on the deck just above their heads, and a soft
footfall was heard.  A moment later Dudley thought he detected a step
on the tiny ladder which led down to the cabin in which they lay.  He
listened intently, his finger on the butt of his revolver, and then
started to his feet as a knock sounded on the door.  The sudden and
unexpected sound startled them both, and brought Mr. Blunt to a
sitting position.

"Come in," he called softly, slipping his own weapon from its pouch
and facing the door.  "Come in at once!"

A hand fumbled in the darkness for the latch, the handle turned, and
in a trice the door flew open.  For a second the youth who appeared
stood perfectly still, blinking at the lantern.  Then, with a quick
movement, the young fellow, who had so bravely swum from the other
vessel, entered the cabin, and swung the door to again.  He was
breathless with his exertions, for it had been no easy matter to
climb aboard.  Then, too, he was in the highest pitch of excitement,
for he knew that his warning had arrived not an instant too soon.  He
stood there, the water streaming from him and forming a rapidly
increasing pool on the floor.  He opened his mouth to speak, when
Dudley staggered back a step, looked incredulously at the stranger,
and then uttered a cry of astonishment.

[Illustration: "DUDLEY LOOKED INCREDULOUSLY AT THE STRANGER, AND THEN
UTTERED A CRY OF ASTONISHMENT"]

"Joyce!  You here!  This is strange!"

"Dudley!  Dudley Compton!"

The recognition was mutual.  In spite of Harold Joyce's half-drowned
appearance, Dudley knew him the instant he set eyes on the strange
apparition at the doorway of the cabin, while the lad who had so
bravely swum across to give his warning needed no second view of the
sturdy, bronzed figure standing, revolver in hand, just beneath the
swaying lantern.  In a flash he knew that he was face to face with
the old school friend whom he had wronged, the lad whose future had
been darkened by a cloud which he, Harold Joyce, could have dispelled
had he had the courage to confess his crime.  It was a moment of
intense interest in both their young lives, and it is not to be
wondered at that, in spite of the urgency of the situation, of the
need for instant action, these two young fellows stared in amazement
at each other as if they were spellbound.  Then Harold suddenly found
his tongue.




CHAPTER XII

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

Drenched from head to foot, and standing in a pool of water which
drained constantly from him, Harold Joyce might have been excused
under the extraordinary conditions if he had forgotten his special
mission to the ship on which he had discovered Dudley, for he had
suddenly come face to face with one to whom he owed an explanation,
and whose forgiveness he could hardly hope to gain.  But he
remembered the urgency of the position, and, still strong in his
resolve to give his warning of attack, he swung round to the other
figure standing, pistol in hand, before him.

"You are Mr. Blunt?" he asked.

"I am, my lad."

"Then you have not a moment to lose.  I came up the river as a
passenger in that other boat which moored up above you.  There is a
gang of ruffians aboard, who are friends of the men you engaged, and
who are now returning here.  I learned the tale from an English
sailor, who is one of the gang.  Quick, sir, they are slacking out
their hawser, and dropping down upon you.  They mean to rob and kill
you."

The words tumbled from him rapidly, while he stepped forward eagerly
and laid his hand on Mr. Blunt's arm.

"You haven't a moment to spare," he urged.  "They are already only a
few yards away, and you must act."

"The scoundrels!  A gang letting their boat down on us so as to get
aboard?  And you say that the men we engaged are in the plot?  What
is to be done?"

Mr. Blunt stared in astonishment at Harold, and then swung round to
look at Dudley, as if to ask his help, for the situation was
critical, and though he was a man who had faced many dangers, and was
not lacking in resource, yet this warning had come so suddenly, and
gave such little time for thought, that he was utterly at a loss.  As
for Dudley, he could hardly fix his attention on the danger.  His
eyes were riveted on Harold Joyce, the last person he had expected to
meet out in these foreign parts, and the only one who could clear his
character.  For some months now he had borne the knowledge that he
was looked upon as a thief by his old friends and comrades at home.
The stigma, in spite of Mr. Blunt's kindly belief in him, still
filled his mind with bitterness, and had caused him to register a
solemn vow.  Deep down in his mind our hero had decided to work for
his employer, to improve his position in the world, and never to rest
till he had proved to all that he was innocent of theft, that he had
been wrongly accused, and was the victim of another's crime.  Was it
wonderful, therefore, that, finding himself suddenly face to face
with the very one whom he knew must be the guilty person--the only
person, in fact, who could clear him of the stigma under which he
suffered, that question filled his mind to the exclusion of all
others?  He was helpless!  The ruffians might even board the boat and
commence their attack, and any defence he might make would be almost
automatic.  However, Joyce was by no means asleep, while Mr. Blunt
had no intention of being taken without a struggle.

"Dudley," he cried sharply, "we must do something.  We shall be
outnumbered, and if we don't make an effort the rascals will murder
all three of us.  What are we to do?  Quick, lad!  Suggest something."

"The cables, sir," cried Harold, pulling at the handle of the door.
"You are moored alongside the staging, they tell me.  Cut the cables
and float out into the stream.  Then they will miss you.  I've a
knife.  It is the only thing we can do to escape them."

He pulled the door open, while with an exclamation of delight Mr.
Blunt blew out the candle in the lamp and dragged Dudley out on to
the deck.  Harold had already gained it and, knife in hand, raced
forward.  Going on hands and knees he felt for the cable which moored
the boat for'ard, and, finding it, severed it with a sweep of the
blade.  Meanwhile Mr. Blunt had sought for the rope right aft, and
with a slash from his hunting knife cut it in two.  By then Dudley
had recovered from his astonishment at what had occurred.  With an
effort he banished all thought of the crime for which he was
expelled.  Once more he was working in the interests of his employer,
and set about his defence with all his old enthusiasm.  He ran into
the bow, where he and Harold stood side by side, listening to the men
aboard the other boat.

"They are within ten yards, I should say," he whispered to Joyce.
"That should give us just time to get away, unless the mud holds us.
Are we moving?"

Harold promptly hung over the rail, and stared down at the black
surface of the river.

"I don't think so," he answered in low tones, coming to Dudley's side
again.  "We are on the mud.  They will catch us yet."

"Not if we pole away.  There are some poles on deck, I know.  Come
along with me, Harold.  And, look here, just pitch that plank
overboard."

They were standing close beside the place where the plank gangway
came in from the shore, and at once Harold seized it and gently drew
it inboard.

"Better not make a row by throwing it over," he whispered.  "The
beggars don't know we've moved yet.  Better keep them in ignorance.
Ah, here's a pole!"

Mr. Blunt joined them at that instant, and, hearing what they were
doing, at once helped them.  It happened that there were several long
poles lying along the scuppers, for often enough the river boats got
aground on a mud or sand bank, and then the crew were forced to pole
them off.  Seizing three of them, the trio lowered the ends into the
water close to the bow, and pushed with might and main.  The boat
moved.  She had a good deal of water under her, and the mud just held
the after part of her shallow keel.  The bow swung out rapidly, the
poles were shifted, and in a minute the boat was almost broadside on
to the stream.  By then the one which was descending upon them was
within four yards, but so busy were the ruffians at her cable that as
yet they had not discovered what was occurring.

"They will know in a moment," whispered Mr. Blunt, drawing in his
pole.  "The ruffians ashore are on the wharf already.  You can hear
them now.  They are searching for the boat and the gangway, and in a
few seconds one of them will see us out here.  Then the whole pack
will shout, and those aboard the vessel just above us will fire.  Got
a weapon, sir?"

"I have nothing," answered Harold promptly.  "I left my revolver
behind.  I was afraid of the weight."

"Then here is one, and don't be afraid to use it.  Those rascals will
shoot you as if you were a dog.  They have no qualms about taking
human life, and if you want to get out of this trouble you must be
just as ready to kill them.  Dudley, can we do anything else?"

"We might keep them from boarding by pushing out one of the poles,"
he answered.  "If they can get within six feet they will jump aboard,
and then we shall not have a chance.  We are swinging round rapidly
now, and at the rate they are coming down they will strike our stern,
I fancy.  I'll go over there with this pole, and push them away if
possible."

"While I and this young gentleman shoot down those who wish to pay us
a visit.  Ah, there they are!  The dogs are barking with a vengeance.
Come along with me, sir, and remember to keep below the rail.  Those
fellows over there on the wharf might get your figure against a white
patch in the sky, and they are wonderful shots.  Don't show more than
you can help, and when you shoot, shoot quickly, and duck again."

Harold Joyce gripped the revolver which had been handed to him, and
followed Mr. Blunt along the deck to the spot where Dudley had
already taken up his station with the pole.  It was a new experience
to him to find himself in actual danger of his life, but up to this
moment he had had no opportunity of considering the situation.  The
fact of finding himself aboard a vessel containing a gang of
cut-throats had helped not a little to make up his mind to accept the
risk of swimming to the other vessel, though to do him justice he was
eager to play a man's game in the matter, and do what was his obvious
duty.  But even then, once his decision was made, and he had slid
into the river, the need for exertion and for caution had filled his
thoughts, so that he was able to give little attention to the subject
of personal danger, though, to be sure, he felt extremely
uncomfortable when he remembered the revolvers which the gang had so
openly displayed, and the fact that a bullet might soon be hissing
after him.  Now, however, as he crouched behind the rail of the ship
and watched the other boat slowly approaching, he had a moment or two
to realize his position, and the fact that the gang he had so lately
left would stop at nothing.  He could see that if they could only
board the ship upon which he crouched, he and his two companions
would certainly be shot.  Even if the gang were unsuccessful in
reaching the vessel, it was certain that bullets would be flying,
and, supposing one came his way, supposing he was killed!

The thought made him shudder.  He shivered from head to foot, and for
one brief second felt inclined to dive into the cabin and hide his
head there in the farthest corner.  But he conquered the impulse.  He
looked at the dark figure crouching beside him, and heard Mr. Blunt's
voice.

"Just remember what I said, lad," he whispered.  "Keep down and shoot
quickly.  And, my lad, now that I have a second, let me thank you for
your warning.  You risked much, and have placed yourself in a
position of great danger.  I shall hope to be able, later, to thank
you for behaving like a gallant gentleman."

The words came in the nick of time.  Harold Joyce, the lad who had
been noted at school for frivolity, for indecision, for shirking
games in which personal injury might be incurred, heard himself
described as a gallant gentleman.  Remembering what despicable
courage he had once displayed, when he allowed his old comrade to be
branded as a thief, he winced at the words.  Then he lifted his head,
for this young fellow had still the makings of an honorable man in
him.  He had been undecided once.  He had shown the most lamentable
want of courage.  But that was in the past.  He, too, had suffered,
and had learnt his lesson.  Long ago he had made up his mind never to
rest till he had set the matter of Dudley's expulsion right.  He had
declared his guilt before the whole school, so that our hero's name
was now as bright there as ever.  And now he had come out to South
America with one solitary and praiseworthy object.  He had taken
advantage of the liberal allowance made by his father to come in
search of Dudley, to meet him face to face, and tell him what had
happened.  Then, if possible, he would obtain his forgiveness.
Indeed, Harold Joyce's conscience had done much for his wavering
resolution already.  He had shown to all at home an honest and steady
intention to reform, and was he going at this moment to show his old
indecision under the very eyes of the one who had suffered for his
fault in the past?  Never!  The lad closed his teeth firmly, gripped
his revolver, and swore beneath his breath to fight hard for his old
friend, to do something more than he had already accomplished that
night, so as to show him that Harold Joyce had something good left in
him yet.

"What if I am killed?" he thought.  "Then Dudley will never know what
has happened.  He will not know that he is cleared, and why I have
come out here.  There is time to tell him now.  We are swinging fast,
and that boat is still ten feet away.  I'll do it."

He crept a pace nearer to our hero and touched his leg.

"Dudley!" he called softly.  "Dudley, I want to say something now
before the row begins.  I am a sneak and a coward.  I stole the
money, and came out here to tell you so.  I confessed to the old
head, and to the whole school, and could not rest till I had told you
all that had happened.  That's all, only I'm ashamed of myself.  I
acted like a cad and a blackguard."

There was silence for some few seconds, a tense silence, aboard their
boat, while from the wharf came the patter of feet on the woodwork,
and the call of one of the men to those aboard the vessel now so
close to Dudley and his friends.  Then came an answering hail, and
the noise made by a man stumbling over a coil of rope.  In a minute,
in less time than that perhaps, the alarm would be sounded, and the
gang of ruffians would know that their expected victims were warned
of their intentions and were already making efforts to escape.  It
was, in fact, hardly the moment for a confession, and yet who can
wonder that Joyce made it?  The subject of the theft filled his mind
as much as it did Dudley's.  Remorse had been eating at his heart for
many weeks past, and now he felt desperate.  He was so near to the
object for which he had struggled.  He had come to South America for
one purpose, and could not bear to think that now, at the last
instant, he might lose all.  If only he could tell Dudley his tale,
and have his answer, he felt that nothing else mattered, not even a
bullet, for he knew now that he could die happily once he had done
this duty to his old comrade.  His hand tightened on our hero's leg
convulsively, while Mr. Blunt coughed huskily.

As for Dudley, he could hardly believe his ears.  He knew well, had
known all along, that Harold Joyce was guilty, but even in his most
sanguine moments he had never expected to be so completely cleared.
And now, when he heard that the head and every boy at the school knew
that he was innocent, when he heard that Harold had confessed all,
and not content with that had followed him to South America there to
tell him what he had done, why it was almost too much!  The leg which
Joyce gripped trembled and shook.  Dudley could not speak for an
instant, but he knew what his old comrade must be suffering, and at
once, with a magnanimity which did his heart good, he stretched down,
took the hand clasping his leg, and gripped it eagerly.  Then he was
able to steady himself.

"All right, old fellow!" he said.  "I can't thank you now, but will
do so later.  You have lifted a load from my mind."

"Then you forgive me, Dudley?  There is nothing to thank me for.  I
have done only bare justice to you."

"With all my heart," came the swift answer.  "You have made up for
all by behaving like a decent fellow."

"Hear, hear!  Hear, hear!" came from Mr. Blunt.

A second later a shout came across the water, for the man who had
hailed his comrades on the boat had suddenly caught sight of the
other one swinging out into the stream.  At first he and his comrades
had searched vainly for her in the darkness, and had come very near
to tumbling into the river in their efforts to find the gangway.
Then, little by little, it had dawned on their sluggish minds that
they were beaten, that the man whose money they hoped to take was
wide awake, and was already slipping from their clutches.  They had
promised themselves to commence their work in the Entre Rios country
by a successful coup on the way up the Paraná River, and the man who
was responsible for their being brought together had specially urged
them to make Mr. Blunt their first victim.  Perhaps he had some
special reason, but in any case the grazier who occupied the boat now
swinging away from the wharf, the man whose employment they had so
cunningly accepted, was escaping, and once their minds had grasped
that fact they set up such a din that those aboard the other vessel
were quickly informed of what was happening.  The tall, black-bearded
Italian ruffian at their head grasped the meaning of those shouts at
once, and came bounding along the deck, striking heavily against a
yard in the darkness.  With a growl he picked himself up, for the
collision had thrown him to the deck, and ran to the stern.

"Cut the rope," he shouted to his men.  "Cut it, and come here with
me.  We are close to them, and in a moment can get on board.  It is
that English youth who has cheated us, I expect, and, if that is so,
the sailor shall have small mercy.  Ah, I see them!"

He stood to his full height against the stern rail of the river boat,
and peered into the darkness.  He could see the big hull of the other
boat looming across the river some few feet away, and as he watched
his eye suddenly lit on Dudley, standing pole in hand ready to push
the attacking vessel away.  The rascal did not hesitate, and in an
instant his hand went to the revolver which was tucked into a deep
pocket on his thigh.  Barely lifting it from that position he pulled
the trigger and sent a ball flying through the darkness.  Indeed it
was the darkness alone which saved Dudley, for the ruffian who had
drawn trigger was an expert shot with the revolver and seldom missed.
However, it was but a dull outline which he had caught of Dudley, and
his muzzle was directed just a shade too much to one side.  The
bullet whizzed past his head, missing it by little more than an inch,
and, flying along the deck, buried itself in the mast, giving a loud
and ominous thud as it did so.  An instant later Mr. Blunt rose to
his feet, a spout of flame shot from his weapon, lighting up the
immediate surroundings for one brief instant, and then he was down
again, listening eagerly, and waiting for another opportunity, while
he dragged at Dudley's clothing.

"Get down," he said sharply.  "I saw what was happening by the flash.
We are travelling as fast as they are.  Probably faster, for we are
almost broadside on, and the stream has more hold on us.  Did I hit?"

A sharp cry had followed his shot, showing that in all probability it
had hit the mark, but still as Dudley looked over the rail he could
see the tall figure of the rascal who had fired at him.  The man
stood stock-still, making no effort to retaliate, and if only he had
been nearer, and the night not so intensely dark, they would have
seen that he was gripping the rail convulsively.  For the bullet
which Mr. Blunt had fired had struck the ruffian hard, so hard, in
fact, that it was a wonder that the man did not fall to the deck at
once.  But he was one of those individuals possessed of enormous
resolution and courage.  He knew that he was badly hit at once.  He
felt as if his last moment had come, and yet he would not give in.
He clung to the rail and swayed backward and forward giddily.  He
endeavored to turn and call to his followers, but the effort nearly
brought him to the deck.  Then he stared at Dudley again, made a
frantic attempt to pick up the weapon which had dropped at his feet,
and then, of a sudden, collapsed on to the rail of the ship.  There
was a loud crash as the flimsy rail gave way, and then a dull splash.
The leader of the gang of ruffians had met his end in the waters of
the River Paraná.

"One rascal the less," said Mr. Blunt coolly, lifting his head to
look over the rail.  "He at least will not trouble us again."

"Then we may escape altogether," broke in Harold.  "That man was the
ringleader of the gang.  He was an Italian, and the sailor told me
that he had been appointed leader by some friend who had in
particular selected you for the first attack."

"Ah!  Is that so?  Tell me more, lad."

"There is little to tell you," said Harold in a whisper, as he
watched the following boat.  "It seems that the men aboard, and those
whom you hired, had formed themselves into a gang some four weeks
ago, with the intention of going up on to the pampas and robbing the
ranchers."

"Robbing!  That is a mild term.  Shooting them is more correct."

Mr. Blunt spoke very deliberately and coolly.  There was not a tremor
in his voice, and he seemed to be absolutely unaffected by the
excitement of the moment.  Indeed he might have forgotten the very
existence of the gang of ruffians for all that his listeners could
tell.  Dudley, as he watched the pursuers, secretly admired the
courage of this employer of his.  He had never before seen him
actually in such a dilemma, but he had long ago come to the
conclusion that Mr. Blunt was just the man to go through an
engagement without showing a trace of fear or even of excitement.
And now his opinion of the man was proved to be correct.  Mr. Blunt
was questioning Harold Joyce in cool, matter-of-fact tones which
showed his calmness and courage.

"Yes, it would appear that that is their intention," said Harold,
still in the same low tones.  "From what the sailor told me they
intended to pay a round of visits, commencing with your estancia, for
you are nearest to the Indians, and, so far as I could gather, there
seemed to be some special reason why you should be made a victim."

"That is right, lad.  There is a reason.  Well do I know it.  But go
on.  There is time, for if I am not mistaken we are increasing our
distance from those rascals every second.  I cannot understand why
they do not pack themselves into the stern and blaze at us with their
weapons.  But, go on, lad."

"Well it happened that, just as their arrangements were complete, you
came down the river to Buenos Ayres.  They have friends who tell them
of any unusual occurrence, and this was reported to them.  Everything
fell out as they wanted.  You required men.  They had men to spare,
and by putting a portion of their gang on your boat made more sure of
getting your money.  That is all I know.  I thought it was high time
to put a spoke in their wheel."

"And so you swum across to warn an absolute stranger.  Thanks, lad,
it was gallant conduct.  But we will speak of that later.  For the
moment we have yet to deal with these rascals.  To think that this is
another of their organized bands, and that that old feud still lives,
and that those wretches still desire to murder me.  Well, well, we
shall see.  There is still a good deal of life and tenacity left in
the old dog.  How are matters now, Dudley?"

"We are drawing away.  The current seems to have got us in its grip,
and we are moving finely.  But I cannot make out what those fellows
are doing.  As soon as the leader had gone overboard I heard a shout,
and I think it must have been this sailor whom Harold mentions.  Then
the men who were running aft stopped, and since that I have seen
nothing of them, but can hear them talking."

"They are up to some clever trick, I have no doubt," said Mr. Blunt
decisively.  "The rascals will not let us slip without an effort.
Listen to those ruffians ashore."

They were bellowing loudly to their comrades on the boat, and, if
Dudley and his two friends could have seen them, were for the most
part collected at the very edge of the wharf, where they stood
unsteadily, peering out into the darkness, and calling loudly that
they would follow out on to the stream as soon as a boat could be
found.  Nor was it long before one of their number was successful in
his search.  He lit upon a boat at the end of the wharf, and,
paddling it beneath his friends, called to them to descend--a
movement which some of them carried out with such carelessness that
the bark was almost upset.  Then they pushed out on to the river,
and, taking up their paddles, rowed as well as they were able in the
direction of their friends.  Meanwhile the latter had not been idle.
The ominous quiet aboard their boat was followed by a burst of
cheering, and then by the appearance of a couple of figures in the
stern.  One was the sailor, and at once he took possession of the
helm.

"She'll steer within the minute," he called out huskily.  "Get those
poles over her bows and push her round.  Skurry, lads, or we'll be
too late!"

"The rascals!  They have hoisted sail, and will be able to make rings
round us," cried Mr. Blunt.  "I fear that they have now an enormous
advantage."

That this was the case could not be denied, for as the trio looked
over the rail at the banks of the river, occasionally to be seen
dimly, they found that they themselves were floating slowly on the
current, swinging round and round, while within but a few yards of
them, and quickly coming under sail, was the pursuing boat, on the
rails of which hung the gang of outlaws, ready to commence the attack
at the very first moment.  In rear of them was a river craft manned
by more of the gang, who were pulling lustily so as to come up in
time to take their share in the unequal contest.  The situation was
indeed critical again, and there is little wonder that the trio
aboard the drifting craft found it hard to decide how to act under
the circumstances, and looked about them desperately for a way of
escape.




CHAPTER XIII

IN A TIGHT CORNER

"We are cornered, I fear," said Mr. Blunt as soon as he had fully
realized what was happening, and that the enemy were now following
swiftly, their big river boat under sail, and part of their gang in a
craft which they propelled with oars, "unless we also could hoist a
little canvas.  But I fear that that is out of the question, for the
sail is a big one."

Then they went to the mast, to find the yard and sail extremely
heavy, while in the darkness it was almost impossible to find the
hoisting gear.  However, the knowledge that something must be done if
they wished to escape spurred them on to make an effort, and after a
little fumbling in the dark they managed to hoist a few feet of the
sail, and even to get some way on the boat.

"Do as they did," sang out Mr. Blunt.  "Push her head round, while I
go to the tiller.  Once we are under way, stand ready with one of the
poles to push them off if they get too near.  One can use the pole
while the other stands over him with his revolver.  And remember to
shoot swiftly.  The man who can draw trigger first on occasions like
this stands the best chance of coming alive out of the struggle.  Ah,
I see them again!  I wish this boat would swing a little more
quickly."

There was a note of anxiety in his voice, for the minutes were
passing rapidly, and though their own sail had now been hoisted for
quite two minutes the boat had not yet swung round with her bow down
stream.  As for the enemy, the vessel on which they were was already
well under way; but she still had to make up the distance which she
had previously lost, and which had steadily increased as the stream
bore Dudley and his friends along.  For a time she had been lost to
view in the darkness, and only the shouts of the rascals on her deck
showed where she was, while the answering calls of the gang in the
small boat, and the splash of their paddles, told that they too were
already dangerously near.  Dudley stood in the stern of the boat
listening intently to the splashes and the calls, and then leaving
his comrades for a moment went carefully along the deck on hands and
knees, searching for something with his fingers.

"If that small boat comes alongside she will be more difficult to
deal with than the other," he thought.  "Those rascals will hang on
till some are on board, and we shall be kept so busy that we shall
not be able to deal with their friends.  I remember a coil of rope
which lay amongst our stores.  I fancy it is heavy enough for my
purpose."

The numerous articles which Mr. Blunt had purchased in Buenos Ayres
had been loaded into the hold of the vessel, and some had also been
placed a little forward of the mast.  There were many coils of rope
and wire in these stores, and at this moment Dudley thought of them.
He soon reached the spot where he remembered he had seen them placed,
and fumbled in the darkness with his fingers till he lit upon one of
the coils of rope.  It was closely wound, and consisted of inch
cable, which was securely lashed into a coil.  Standing over it, he
lifted it to his shoulder with an effort and bore it aft, staggering
under the weight.  A second or more later he had tumbled it on to the
deck with a bang.

"For the gentlemen in the small boat if they happen to wish to pay us
a visit," he said significantly.  "If I can make a good shot with
this coil I think there will be little boat left.  Now for the other
vessel.  Is she in sight?"

"In sight, and almost within striking distance," answered Harold
promptly, for he had sprung on to the rail of the ship and had been
peering eagerly into the darkness.  "She is coming up on our left.
Look there!  You can see a big black mass, fifteen feet behind us,
perhaps."

The report was only too true, and before long Dudley himself could
see the bow of the vessel, and even thought he detected a couple of
figures standing there.  If he had had any doubt, their sudden calls
to their comrades proved their presence beyond contradiction.
Indeed, two of the gaucho ruffians were standing as far forward as
they could get, and as Dudley watched them they called loudly, their
shouts bringing their comrades running along the deck to join them.

"Within a little way, comrades," said one of the rascals, as he drew
his weapon, "and if this darkness does not make a fool of me I can
see one of the fellows at the tiller.  This will soon show if it is a
man or a shadow.  I'll wager that I make a hit."

He coolly presented his revolver at the figure of Mr. Blunt, which
could be dimly seen at that distance, and he pulled the trigger
gently.  There was a loud report at once, a report which went echoing
down the river, and brought a cheer from the men rowing the smaller
boat.  A spout of flame shot from the muzzle, and a ball hissed
across the narrow space, missed Mr. Blunt by the smallest interval,
and, flying on, struck Harold Joyce on the tip of the shoulder,
penetrating the muscle and emerging on the other side.  A sharp cry
escaped the lad, which was drowned instantly by the report of
Dudley's weapon, and by a rattling volley which came from the
pursuers, for the flash had lit up the scene and shown the three
figures standing in the stern of the boat which they were following.
However, their bullets flew wide of the mark, while the flash which
had enabled them to fire proved of advantage to Dudley and his
friends also.  Dudley had been watching the dim figures aboard the
pursuing boat, and hardly had the report of the first pistol shot
died down when his own weapon cracked sharply, and the man who had
fired dropped like a stone, a bullet having struck him in the very
centre of the forehead.

"Two to us and one to them, I think," said Mr. Blunt cheerily.  "That
was a quick shot, Dudley, and will teach them caution perhaps.  Now,
my lad, I think you were hit.  Not badly I hope."

"It is nothing, sir," came the ready answer, for once he had
recovered from the first shock of the wound Harold Joyce had
determined to make little of it.  His old fears were forgotten and to
tell the truth the lad was rather enjoying this brush with his late
companions.  There was now no thought of danger, only a feeling of
huge relief, for had he not unburdened himself, and obtained the
forgiveness of his old comrade?  And with that feeling of relief was
a curious and altogether novel sense of elation.  He felt wonderfully
cool and steady, and seeing that Dudley and Mr. Blunt were precisely
the same, he took heart from that and vowed quietly to himself that
if he came out of this his first engagement alive he would also
emerge from it with credit to himself.  And then, to think what joy
it would be to him, to Harold Joyce, to know that he had done well,
to feel that he had acted a man's part, had behaved like a man, he
who till a few minutes before had hardly dared look an honest fellow
in the face.  He had not forgotten his old behavior, his despicable
crime, and the cowardice and treachery to a friend which he had
shown.  He would never forget that as long as he lived perhaps, for
it would help him to make amends, to live in the future so that no
one could point the finger of scorn at him.  Now was his opportunity,
and he seized upon it eagerly.

"Just a little blow on the shoulder, sir," he said easily.  "It is
merely a pinprick, and only reminds me that they have revolvers.  I
owe them something, and mean to repay it.  I'll try a shot."

Up till then he had not drawn trigger, but now he coolly stepped on
to the rail again, peered at the black shape surging up astern, and
then took a snap shot, sending a leaden messenger crashing into the
middle of the group of rascals, and bringing a shout of pain from one
of them.  A second later Mr. Blunt had dragged him down under the
rail again.

"Number three!" he said with an exclamation of pleasure.  "You are
doing well, Joyce.  But you must not be foolhardy.  Remember that the
flash of your pistol gives them a chance, for it shows up your
figure.  They missed you by the purest chance."

Indeed the flash of his weapon had been the signal for another
rattling volley from the enemy, the bullets singing over the heads of
the trio, and sweeping away into the space beyond.  As for the man
who had been struck, he went crawling aft on hands and knees,
groaning as he went.

"Within ten feet I should say," said Dudley suddenly, "and the fellow
who is steering the vessel is sweeping her bow over towards us.  It
is nearly time to put out our pole.  What are we to do supposing they
grapple with us and get aboard?"

It was a difficult question to decide, and for some few seconds there
was silence while the three peered away astern at the pursuers, who
were steadily coming up, while Mr. Blunt cast an anxious glance
ahead.  The boat which he steered was now heading directly down
stream, and had increased her pace.  But she was showing only a
little canvas, while the enemy had their sail hoisted to its full
height.  That the gang of ruffians would overhaul them was perfectly
clear; within five minutes they would be surging alongside, with
their rail grating against that of the vessel which they were
pursuing.

"It is hard to say what we ought to do," he answered slowly.  "They
are sure to come up with us, and equally sure to lash their rail to
ours.  They know that we are here, and will come tumbling aboard and
make a rush into the stern.  Let us consider how many we shall have
to meet."

"That is soon answered," spoke out Harold boldly.  "We have hit
three.  Six are left.  Just two to one.  Why not change our places,
sir?  If we crept forward as they came alongside, they would find the
stern vacated when they climbed aboard."

"But they would find us in the end," interrupted Dudley.  "Why not
try another trick?  We can creep forward, as Harold suggests, and
then get aboard their boat as they board us.  A cut with a knife then
would alter matters.  We should be able to sail away, and----"

"A pretty plan, and one which we will carry out if we have the
chance," cried Mr. Blunt.  "It is quite certain that if we stay here
they will prove too strong for us.  We must make the utmost use of
the darkness, and it is agreed therefore that we go forward, conceal
ourselves under the rail, and as soon as they are on board clamber
across to their deck and cut the ropes, for they are sure to lash the
two craft together.  I will make my way forward, while you will take
the rope aft, Dudley.  That is agreed.  Then I think we will take up
our places at once.  They are already very near, and I reckon that
within a minute they will be alongside.  Slip off one by one.  Joyce,
lead the way please, and remember, there must be silence.  We slip
aboard, cut the lashings, and make off.  I will take the tiller."

It was high time indeed that they should make some arrangement, for,
as Mr. Blunt had said, the enemy were even then within striking
distance.  The ruffianly sailor who controlled the vessel on which
the gang were pursuing was a man who knew his business and had
steered a course on many an occasion.  More than that, the fellow had
the eyes of a cat, for he seemed to be able to make out the outline
of the boat ahead in spite of the darkness, and indeed, by sitting on
the deck, and getting his head as low as possible, had for some while
been able to discern the mast of the fugitive boat against the stars
above.  He knew now that his bow was in a line with the stern of the
other vessel, and with the knowledge that he was overhauling her very
rapidly he moved his tiller just a little and sent his own craft
swirling closer, so that her rail would touch that of the one in
front.

"In a minute, comrades!" he sang out in execrable Portuguese.  "I am
running alongside.  One of you take a rope forward and lash the rails
as soon as they meet.  I will see to the job being done aft here."

A call told him that his comrades understood, and once more the
ruffian put his helm over.  The ships touched a moment or two later,
and by then the bow of the pursuer was half-way along the side of the
boat on which Dudley and his friends crouched.  A minute later the
boats were sailing on a dead level, and the time had come to lash
them together.  The sailor promptly left his tiller, and, snatching a
length of rope which he had placed at his feet, sprang at the rail,
while those who were forward carried out their part of the task as
rapidly as possible.  A shout told that they were ready, and within
an instant the sailor had left the stern and had run forward to meet
them.

"We have them at last, the dogs," he shouted.  "They were in the
stern.  Follow!  Cut the lubbers to pieces."

He led the way on to the deck of the other vessel, and close behind
him came his comrades, all revolver in hand, eager to be the first to
shoot down the three who had stood in the stern, and who had shot
their leader and two others of their number.  They went rushing along
the deck, the sailor emptying his weapon as he ran, for he took the
gaunt outline of the mast for one of the men he sought.

"Our time to move," whispered Mr. Blunt.  "Remember, I go forward,
while Dudley takes the rope aft.  I'll be with you in a moment."

As silent as ghosts, and as active as cats, the three slipped over
the rails on to the other vessel, where Mr. Blunt went on hands and
knees and with wonderful agility slid and scrambled along the deck.
As for Dudley, he ran aft, keeping his hand all the while on the
rail, and did not stop till it had struck upon the rope which the
sailor had placed in position.  With a slash he severed it, and then
went to the tiller, there to wait for his leader.  As for Harold
Joyce, he stood on the deck opposite the point where he had clambered
aboard, and, crouching under the shelter of the rail, waited,
prepared to protect Mr. Blunt with his revolver.

Meanwhile those who had swarmed aboard the boat which they had been
so feverishly following were at a loss to understand what had
happened.

The sailor had quickly discovered that he had made an error in firing
at the mast, and as by then he was within sight of the stern, he came
to a sudden halt, and sheltered his body behind the big mass of
timber.

"Shoot when you see them," he shouted.  "They must be lying on the
deck.  Give them a volley, comrades."

It was one of the gauchos who made the gang aware of the fact that
the stern was empty.  He peered into the darkness for a moment, and
then rushed aft till he came to the rail, his revolver held in
readiness in case his eyes should have deceived him.

"Not here!" he called angrily.  "This is where we saw them when the
last shot was fired.  They must have gone forward, or have dived into
the cabin.  After them!  We will riddle them with bullets once we
come upon them.  Ah, peste take the man who fired then!  Be careful
with your weapons."

He turned savagely upon one of the gang, who, thinking he saw a
figure beside the rail a little for'ard of the stern drew trigger on
it, sending a bullet dangerously near his comrade.  Then, joining the
sailor, this gaucho led the way forward, this time at a slower pace,
searching every foot of the deck.

"Empty!" exclaimed the sailor with an oath.  "Then they have gone
into the cabin, and we shall have a pretty business to get them out.
What's best to be done?"

He turned on those who followed him, forgetful of the fact that none
knew English.  But they seemed to guess at his meaning, for the
gaucho promptly led the way back to the cabin.

"An ugly place to search," he admitted as he made out the outline of
the roof of the saloon which Dudley and Mr. Blunt had occupied, and
came to a halt at the short flight of stairs leading down to it.  "A
man does not care to dive into a dark hole like that and be shot down
like a dog.  The fellows are skulking behind the door, and will see
us before we can catch sight of them.  What's to be done?  Coop them
up below and wait till morning seems the best way out of the
difficulty."

"And have a hundred busybodies asking what the noise is about, and
why we are so carefully shooting white men on the river," shouted the
man at his elbow, pushing him aside indignantly.  "What has to be
done must be done now.  I'm going into the cabin."

As if to let the occupants of the tiny place know that he was coming,
the ruffian emptied four of the cartridges in his revolver into the
door of the cabin, sending the bullets ripping through the wood, and
thudding heavily against the bulkhead beyond.  Then, quickly
following his messengers, he leaped to the bottom of the stairway and
burst into the saloon.

"Empty!" he shouted a moment or two later.  "Not a soul in here.
Where are the pretty birds?"

Where indeed?  The members of the gang raced up and down the deck,
searching vainly for the men they wanted, and never even suspecting
the trick which had been played upon them.  It was not till they had
felt in every corner, and come very near to shooting one another in
the confusion caused by their haste and the darkness, that it slowly
dawned upon their minds that the birds had flown.  Then they looked
for the ship on which they had taken passage, and which they had
slipped from her moorings not ten minutes before, and were struck
dumb with astonishment to find that she was already some ten feet
from them, and hardly discernible in the darkness.  Indeed it is
probable that they would not even now have suspected what had really
happened had it not been for a sudden commotion close at hand.  They
had entirely forgotten the noisy comrades who had gone ashore, and
who had since embarked on a small boat.  Even Mr. Blunt and his two
stanch young friends had allowed the existence of this other gang to
slip their memory, for their hands were very full.  They had carried
out their scheme in absolute silence and with wonderful celerity.
They had severed the ropes, and then with a whispered word to one
another had placed themselves along the rail of the captured vessel,
and, keeping as low as possible, had pushed the two boats apart.  Not
till then had Mr. Blunt taken his station at the tiller.  He looked
aloft, felt the river vessel cant as the wind filled her sail, and
then pushed at his tiller.

"In a moment we shall have said good-by," he whispered.  "Listen to
the rascals!  They will be angry when we are gone.  Ah!  Those other
fellows!  They are just beside us."

Both heard the splash of oars, and then the loud calls of the men in
the rowing boat.  They had come up with their comrades, as they
thought, and when Dudley looked over the stern rail there they were,
alongside, and getting to their feet so as to climb aboard.  He
lifted his revolver and was on the point of firing when Mr. Blunt
arrested the shot.

"Don't shoot," he whispered swiftly.  "They do not know what has
happened, and their fellows aboard our boat are also in ignorance.
Get along the deck and find something heavy, like the coil you
prepared before."

A word was enough, and within a second Dudley was running along the
deck, bent double as he went.  And fortunate it was for him and his
friends that he was one of those lads who take in his surroundings
somewhat more thoroughly perhaps than do average people.  Everything
that was novel interested him, and a ship had always been a
fascinating subject to Dudley.  He had made himself acquainted with
every corner and hole of the river boat on which he and his employer
had sailed from Buenos Ayres, as well as that upon which they had
descended the river, and in both cases he had noted the fact that the
vessels carried a spare anchor hooked to the rail in the bow.  The
memory of that spare anchor flashed across his mind, and at once he
ran up into the bow, making no attempt to search for another object
on the way.  It was there.  His fingers gripped the heavy piece of
metal, and with a jerk he hoisted it from the grips which held it in
place.  Then he returned at a run, arriving breathless at the stern.

"That should do," said Mr. Blunt.  "Take the tiller, and look out for
shots.  I'll do my best to teach those employees of mine a little
lesson in honesty.  Perhaps in future they will not take service with
a man with the express intention of robbing and murdering him."

He leaned over the rail, the anchor poised over his shoulder, and
glanced down at the men in the boat alongside.  They were calling
angrily to one another, for their evening ashore, and the darkness of
the night, had led to no little confusion.  Each man wished to be the
first to climb aboard the vessel, while none were directed to cling
to the rail.  And in consequence it happened that no sooner did the
majority of them rise to their feet than the boat slipped away from
the side of the one they wished to board, and they were forced to
paddle again to come up with her.

"Keep quiet there!" shouted one of their number.  "Hold on there in
the bow, while I get a grip here.  Then clamber aboard one by one.
Hi, comrade, throw us a rope!"

He had caught sight of Mr. Blunt's figure, and stood up to catch the
expected rope.  But it was a very different missile which descended
at his feet.  Mr. Blunt was not the man to muddle an affair like this
by missing his aim.  He leaned well over the rail, poised the anchor
above his head, and then threw it down into the boat with all the
force of which he was capable.  There was a sickening thump as it
struck one of the rascals, and this was followed instantly by the
crash of splintering woodwork, and then by a babel of sounds, oaths,
threats, and cries of fear.  A shot was fired, while one of the more
active of the men, realizing what had happened, made a desperate leap
at the rail, and hung to it for a moment.  But it was for only a
brief moment, for again a pistol sounded, the sharp report drowning
the shouts of the men below.  The man dropped into the water like a
stone, leaving Mr. Blunt staring down at the place which his figure
had occupied.  Then it was the turn of the rascals aboard the other
boat.

"Let them shout," said Mr. Blunt calmly.  "They are beaten,
hopelessly beaten, for we have the legs of them now.  Keep down,
lads, for it would be sad to be hit now that the affair is almost
over.  That is, over for us.  For these rascals, I promise you and
them that it is by no means over.  I will probe this matter to the
bottom.  Whatever it costs I will discover who is the ringleader, the
scoundrel who sits quietly down at Montevideo and incites men to make
an attack upon me, and I will do my utmost to punish these brigands
for their work to-night.  Ah, there go the pistols!  Shoot till you
are tired, my friends."

A furious volley came from the men aboard the boat which Dudley and
his friends had so recently left, and for a minute the shooting
continued till darkness and the increasing interval between the
vessels had separated the combatants.  As for those who had manned
the smaller boat, into which the anchor had been cast, their shouts
were soon drowned by the river.  For the heavy piece of iron had
beaten a hole in the bottom of the craft, and in a little while she
had filled to the gunwale.  Indeed, while those aboard the ship now
being left behind were emptying their revolvers, their luckless
comrades were struggling for life in the water.  More than one of the
wretches sank almost at once, while but two managed to reach the
safety of the bank and scramble ashore.  The tables had been turned,
in fact.  The rascally attackers, who had been in such great force,
and who had hoped to take advantage of the Englishman, and secure his
money, had been badly beaten.  They had lost many from their gang,
and, worse perhaps for those who remained--for such desperadoes think
little of losses,--they had failed in their enterprise.

The cheer which the trio aboard the escaping vessel gave as they
sailed away must have been maddening to the ruffians.

"That will tell them that we are alive and well," said Mr. Blunt.
"Later we will do more to prove the fact.  And now that we are under
way, and have some breath to spare, let me say how grateful I am to
this young gentleman.  Shake hands, Mr. Joyce!  Your gallantry has
saved our lives.  Dudley Compton and I are your debtors."

Each in turn took the blushing Harold by the hand and gripped his
fingers warmly.  This was his reward for acting the man, and for the
resolution and courage which he had shown in the matter.




CHAPTER XIV

BACK TO THE RANCHO

Great indeed was the happiness of the trio who had made such an
eventful escape from the gang who had attacked them.  As they stood
in the stern of their captured vessel, listening for a time to the
shouts of rage which followed them, and the occasional pistol shots
which echoed down the river, each of the three was deeply grateful
for what had been a most lucky escape, and Dudley and Mr. Blunt in
particular felt that they were specially fortunate.

"We can never hope for such luck again," said Mr. Blunt, as he stood,
tiller in hand.  "Those rascals would have murdered us as we lay in
the cabin had it not been for the warning we received.  Come, Mr.
Joyce, tell us the whole tale again, and how it came about that you
were in this country, and took passage with those men."

Thus encouraged to speak out, Harold sat on the edge of the rail, and
for some ten minutes described all that had happened.  Nor did he
neglect to commence from the very beginning, for as yet his story had
come to the ears of his two listeners in scraps only, interrupted by
the shouts of the enemy.  Manfully, therefore, with no attempt to
gloss over the painful incident which had been the commencement of
all his troubles, and of Dudley's, he told how he had stood aside and
seen Dudley suffer, how remorse had promptly attacked him, and how he
had made a clean breast of his fault at home, and then, with the
consent and encouragement of his father and mother, had come out to
Montevideo to find Dudley.  His listeners knew in what manner the
strange meeting had been brought about, but they were not aware of
the fact that Harold had arrived in Montevideo to hear that Mr.
Bradshaw, to whom Dudley had been sent out, was dead, and that there
was no trace of the lad he sought; he had disappeared.

Those were days when mails travelled from South America often enough
by sailing vessels, for there were very few steamers, and it happened
that the letter which Dudley had written on his arrival in the
country, to his guardian, had reached home after Harold had set out.
Thus it was that the lad found himself seriously embarrassed at the
first stage of his journey.

"I could hear nothing of Dudley," he said, "and so, after idling for
a few days, I came, on the advice of a rancher, up into this
district.  It was a piece of pure bad luck taking passage with such a
gang."

"Your pardon!  It was a piece of amazing good fortune," contradicted
Mr. Blunt.  "For us, I mean, of course; for, lad, had you not come up
with those fellows, had that rascally English sailor not been one of
them, and, above all, had you not had the courage and resolution to
do as you did, your old comrade and I would not be here now.  No, no
more, Harold!  Dudley and I will listen to no more from you.  We know
the whole story, and it is clear to us what has happened.  Lad, there
are many people who get out of line, who do mean and contemptible
tricks.  I am not attempting to excuse your faults, let me tell you,
but, as I say, many people sin, and go on sinning.  You have learned
a lesson from this fault.  You have turned over a new leaf, and as a
man who prides himself on his knowledge of human nature, I say
definitely, without fear of contradiction, that the lad who can make
up for his fault as you have done, who can face the angry friends of
the late captain of the school, wrongfully accused, who can declare
his own guilt to his parents, and then, not content, can follow out
here, covering so many miles, with the one purpose of meeting that
old friend and asking his forgiveness, is one who has good in him.
You have behaved nobly, Harold.  From this moment Dudley and I are
your fast friends.  We will prove it if you wish.  Come with us to
the estancia and see the life of the gauchos.  You shall have a post
under my manager, and pay in proportion.  There, lad, it's a real
pleasure to meet you."

The tall, kindly owner of the estancia stretched out one hand and
gripped Harold's.  Mr. Blunt was a sympathetic man who seemed to be
able to dip under the surface, to read the thoughts and feelings of
those with whom he came in contact.  There was some magnetic
attraction about him which drew young fellows to him, which made him
their friend almost from the first moment, and led them to confide in
him, just as Dudley had done so soon after their chance meeting.  Was
it extraordinary, therefore, if Harold Joyce fell under the same
spell?  These were some of the first really kind words he had heard
for many a day.  The lad was deliriously happy.  His troubles had
been sliding rapidly from his shoulders, and in an hour, it seemed,
he had regained his old friend, and had won another.  He gripped the
extended hand, shook it eagerly, and then burst into tears, tears
which he stifled in an instant.

"I came out here to be a man, to act like one if possible, and to
show that I was not altogether bad," he said, steadying his voice.
"If you and Dud will have me, why----"

"You'll come, old chap," chimed in Dudley.

"I will.  It will be ripping."

"Then that is settled," said Mr. Blunt.  "Now I think it is high time
we discussed some other matter.  We seem to have forgotten that we
are sailing down the Paraná in a strange vessel.  The question is,
shall we drop anchor and wait till morning, or shall we carry on down
to Buenos Ayres?"

"The question is settled already," burst in Dudley, "for we cannot
anchor if we wish to do so.  You forget that the gang who attacked us
cut their cable when we were escaping, and that you yourself tossed
the spare anchor into the boat which came alongside.  So far as I can
see there is nothing to be done but to carry on till morning."

As it happened, however, the voyage downstream which the trio had
been compelled to make was shortly afterwards brought to a sudden
conclusion.  It was densely dark, and in consequence steering was
impossible, for it was seldom that Mr. Blunt caught a glimpse of the
banks.  Indeed, some few minutes later the boat grounded upon a bank
of mud, coming to a standstill so gently that those aboard were
hardly aware of the circumstances.

"The difficulty vanishes," laughed Mr. Blunt, when all were sure of
what had occurred.  "We may just as well make ourselves comfortable
for the remainder of the night, for we are fast ashore.  I don't
think we need fear a second attack from our enemies, for they are far
behind us, and if they venture to follow will probably run past us
without even seeing our spars.  But I fancy they will be too busy
looking to their own safety.  They know very well that I shall take
steps to have a search made for them, though it is little enough that
one can expect from such action.  Still, there are police down at
Buenos Ayres, and some also at the settlements lying between us and
that city.  I shall make complaints, and try to stir the authorities
up to some sort of action.  But I fear little will come of it, for
the cities and settlements are too busy to spare men for police
duties, as a rule, while the country is so vast, there are such
numbers of unregistered foreigners in it, that arrest of evildoers
becomes a rare occurrence.  Still, I will make my complaints, and
will then return to the estancia.  For the next few months I will
devote myself to the building of forts, for I know now that the
rascal who has on former occasions caused attacks to be made on me is
still in the country.  He will not rest after this.  There are a
hundred cut-throats to be had in the ports of Montevideo and Buenos
Ayres, broken down gauchos and other ruffians.  We must make
preparation to meet them in case a second band is organized.  And now
for a sleep.  As I said, there is practically no fear of
interruption, for now that those rascals have failed they will be
eager to make good their escape."

Feeling secure against further attack, and having assured themselves
that their vessel was hard and fast on the mud, the trio lowered the
sail and stepped down into the cabin so lately occupied by the
Italian and his rascals.  The door had been left wide open, and as a
consequence the pokey little place had been thoroughly aired.
However, when the lamp had been set alight, the feeble illumination
it gave showed to some extent the character of its late inhabitants.
Tin pannikins, some half-filled with spirit and water, still lay on
the table, while the stone jar had rolled on to the floor, where it
had smashed into a hundred pieces, scattering them and what little
was left of the contents all over the cabin.  Dudley at once took a
broom, which he found on the deck, and swept the boards clean.  Then
some sacking was procured, and within a little while all were fast
asleep, Harold hugging himself closely in some sacking; for the night
had been a little cool, and his soaking garments had not conduced to
warmth.

A brilliant sun greeted the trio as they came on deck on the
following morning.

"As I thought," said Mr. Blunt in tones of satisfaction.  "We are
ashore on the mud, and should be able to push the vessel off with
poles.  No damage has been done to our craft, and we shall soon have
an opportunity of acting as navigators.  But what about some
breakfast?  Come, Harold, you shall be our cook to-day, and Dudley
shall supervise your work.  He is a practised hand after his life on
the pampas."

The two young fellows ran off to see what the ship's larder
contained, and very soon a column of black smoke was rising from the
funnel which protruded from the galley.  As for Mr. Blunt, while he
waited the results of his two young friends' efforts, he carefully
surveyed his surroundings, and was overjoyed to see, a mile or more
up the river, and almost wholly out of sight round a gentle bend, the
boat which he and Dudley had chartered.

"Then I feel fairly sure of obtaining my goods again," he said, as he
watched the craft.  "I see no one moving aboard her, and as she, too,
has run ashore, I fancy the rascals who were aboard her have
decamped.  But they shall hear from me later, and in the meanwhile I
have a bone to pick with the crew of both vessels.  It seems to me
that they must have known of this proposed attack, and have absented
themselves purposely."

This was, indeed, the fact, for unknown to him the crew of the boat
he had chartered had slipped ashore across the gangway soon after the
hands he had hired had made their way to the saloons; while the men
who manned the boat on which he found himself now had dropped into
their small boat and followed the same plan.

It was in the dinghy which they had used to get ashore that his own
hands had put out into the river in order to join their accomplices.

"Breakfast!" shouted Dudley, appearing at the door of the galley in
his shirt sleeves, and bearing a smoking pan in his hands.  "Now,
Harold, pass Mr. Blunt the bill of fare and get into the cabin to lay
the cloth.  We shall want forks and knives."

Harold Joyce, his face radiant, a merry smile on his lips, issued on
to the deck, slate in hand, and ran to Mr. Blunt.  A
disreputable-looking object he appeared, too, for he had merely a
shirt, socks, and overall trousers to clothe him, and they were by no
means improved by his immersion during the night.

"Fish first, sir?" he cried, as he pushed his slate before Mr. Blunt
and pointed to the letters scrawled in chalk.  "We found a good
supply, which was quite fresh.  Then we come to eggs, poached or
boiled, sir?"

"'Pon my word, trust youngsters to look after a meal!" laughed the
owner of the estancia.  "And what a feast it is, to be sure!  Fish,
eggs, toast and coffee!  A bill of fare fit for a king!  Boiled,
please, Harold, and if there is a good supply I can manage two.  By
the way, lad, what about that wound?  I had forgotten it entirely,
for you have not even mentioned it."

Harold flushed to his eyes again.  "It's nothing at all," he said
hastily.  "It did not even keep me awake.  However, you may see it if
you wish."

His shirt was all stained with blood about one shoulder.  Mr. Blunt
therefore at once helped him to slip the garment off.  Then he
examined the wound critically; living as he did miles away from a
settlement, he had in course of time become quite accomplished in the
art of treating hurts, for the gauchos often came to grief.

"I should not make so little of it as you do," he said with one of
his friendly smiles.  "However, the ball has done no great damage.
It struck the very edge, slipped under the skin, and flew out again.
The wound is little more than skin deep, it is true, but none the
less painful.  As soon as we get back to our own vessel I will dress
it, for I have nothing with me here.  Now let us have that breakfast;
I admit that I have a huge appetite."

It was a merry party which sat down in the tiny cabin below, and the
jollity of the trio was not a little due to the good fare placed
before them.  Dudley had long since had lessons in camp cooking from
Pietro and the other gauchos, and could poach an egg so well that
even the most delicate appetite would be tempted by it.  He was an
expert in the manufacture of steaming coffee, and with Harold's help
had produced an excellent repast.

"It was my first experience of cooking," laughed Harold, as he
tackled a piece of fish, "and I confess I like the work.  It
interests me, and I shall devote heaps of time to it.  Then I mean to
learn how to ride these American horses, and how to shoot.  Dud has
been telling me something about it all, and I am sure I shall enjoy
the life of the rancho."

"Take your lessons from him, then," answered Mr. Blunt.  "He can
shoot, as even the gauchos admit, and they are very grudging with
their praise in that respect.  He has a good seat in the saddle, and
above all he knows how to work with the men.  That is a great secret.
The manager, the officer, even the proprietor of a business, who has
a way with his men, who studies their comfort, respects them, and
gains their sympathy, while at the same time insisting on obedience,
gains as well their respect.  You must make that your aim, lad.  Show
the men that you can ride and shoot, that you are not afraid even of
Indians, and then they will be friends of yours.  That reminds me;
there are Indians near the rancho.  You will have to expect sudden
raids, and there is not the slightest doubt that now we who live on
the rancho shall carry our lives in our hands.  Now, does that deter
you?"

Harold shook his head vigorously.

"If you and Dudley are there, that is good enough for me," he
answered briskly.  "I shall do my best to share in the fighting if
the Indians come.  But tell me more about them, please.  Dudley
mentioned something about a raid which was made quite recently."

As they discussed the meal Mr. Blunt outlined their doings on the
rancho since he and Dudley had arrived from England, and did not fail
to give due praise to his young manager.  The tale opened Harold
Joyce's eyes very wide indeed, and after that he looked at his old
friend with increasing admiration, and swore once again that his old
captain should be his model for the future.

"Now for work," said Mr. Blunt, when all the good things had
disappeared.  "We will hoist the sail first of all, and then push the
vessel off the mud.  There is a fine fresh breeze blowing upstream,
and that should help us along wonderfully."

"What will happen when we get opposite the port again?" asked Dudley.
"We have no anchor, and if we drop our sail we shall soon drift
downstream again."

"There is a simple way out of the difficulty," was the prompt answer.
"I will run her ashore on a soft spot as near the port as possible.
Then I will go to the port authorities, make my complaints, and hire
a boat and a couple of men to take us down to our own vessel."

They laid hold of the tackle at once, and by dint of much hauling
finally got their sail up.  Then the wind helped them more than they
had expected, for, filling the sail at once, it drove them off the
mud out into the middle of the stream.  A little movement of the
tiller brought the bow into the right direction, and very soon they
were bowling along towards their destination.  Indeed, in an hour
they were opposite the port, which consisted of an official residence
and office, a few private houses, and the odious saloons.  There was
a patch of soft mud just above the wharf, and Mr. Blunt calmly ran
the vessel ashore there, dropping the sail when she was securely
embedded.  An hour later he and his young friends were aboard their
own boat.

"As I thought," he said.  "My complaints of those rascals were
listened to politely.  The official was all sympathy, but when it
came to a question of action he merely shrugged his shoulders and
pointed out that he had no one to help him.  But he promised to send
a report down to Buenos Ayres, while I myself will set private agents
to work to make inquiries for me.  However, our friend the official
has promised to procure men to help in the loading, so that we may be
off to-night."

Indeed, that same evening saw them sailing up the river, their old
crew having come aboard.

"Of course they expressed the utmost surprise and indignation," said
Mr. Blunt to Dudley, as the captain and his men filed aboard.  "What
can one say?  I suspect them strongly.  In fact I am positive that
they kept out of the way purposely.  However, they are necessary to
us, and the failure of their friends will make them careful of their
behavior in the future."

On the following day the vessel put in at the port at which Mr.
Blunt's cattle were shipped, and they found Pepito waiting for them
there, while half a dozen of the gauchos had ridden in to help with
the logs, and to carry to the estancia the goods which had been
bought in Buenos Ayres.

"Now, Harold, you will be able to pick a horse, and try what it is to
sit a South American saddle," cried Dudley, as the party prepared to
ride away.  "See here, I will give you a lesson in mounting."

Pepito had brought Dudley's favorite horse to meet him, and striding
up to the beast he sprang into the saddle with a bound which
surprised the lad who was watching.  The reins were gathered up in an
instant, the feet seemed to find the stirrups by themselves, and in a
moment he was off.  But Dudley swung his animal round when fifty
yards away, brought him back at a gallop, and was on his feet beside
Mr. Blunt at the very moment when his horse came to a standstill.

"Just what I have been longing for ever since we left for Buenos
Ayres," he laughed.  "Life on shipboard may be very nice, but give me
the open pampas and a horse."

"And me also," sang out Mr. Blunt, as he climbed into his saddle.
"You will learn it all in a little while, Harold, and, like Dudley,
will enjoy every minute of the day.  For me the life is fascinating,
and I'll be bound that you will find it the same.  But come along.
Let us be off."

Harold had had some practice with horses in England, and he mounted
the beast he had chosen without so much as a qualm.  But he soon
found that an American saddle and a fresh, almost wild, horse were
very different from pigskin and the hacks one usually obtains
elsewhere.  Still, he sat well, and managed his steed after a little
practice.  Indeed, he soon felt so much at home that he was able to
take some note of his surroundings, and was delighted with the
pampas.  As to the camp they formed that night, the hearty meal, and
his bed under the shelter of his saddle, the boy simply revelled in
the experience, and woke as rosy and happy as possible.  Within a
week he had quite settled down to the new life, and ever by the side
of our hero had ridden from end to end of the rancho.  By then a good
proportion of the logs which Mr. Blunt had ordered had been delivered
at the wharf on the river, and had been divided.

"I have arranged for the work of fort building to go on at each of
the corrals at one and the same time," said the owner of the
estancia, as he and the lads sat in the one room of the house one
evening after the day's ranching was done.  "And I will give you my
reasons for such a step.  A plan that appeared some three weeks ago
to be one demanding no haste is now one which undoubtedly demands
instant execution.  I shall not feel secure till all the forts are
erected."

"Then have you had news of the roughs who attacked us?" demanded
Dudley anxiously, for ever since the attack made upon them on the
river he had been thinking of the consequences.  He had now obtained
some insight into the conditions of this portion of South America,
and knew that the Entre Rios district was one which lay at the mercy
of any well-organized gang of brigands who cared to take to the
pampas.  He had met a few of the neighboring ranchers, all of whom
had at some time been victims of the Indian raids, or of sudden onset
by white outlaws, and he knew now how real was the danger of which
Mr. Blunt had warned him on the way out to the country.  "You have
heard something?" he asked.  "What is the news, sir?"

"There is little, but what I have gathered is bad," was the prompt
answer.  "I set agents to work, and already I have had a report.  The
ringleader of the gang who attacked us on the way up the river--I
mean, of course, the ruffian who organized them, but who took no
active part, has not yet been discovered.  But the authorities in
Montevideo have had warning that a gang is being formed.  They have
had complaints about these marauders before, and as far as possible
they endeavor to send warning to the ranchers.  They tell me that it
has come to their knowledge that the graziers in the Entre Rios
district are to be attacked; but where the gang of rascals is now,
when they will commence operations, and of how many they consist, the
agents have no definite information.  So we must be prepared, for the
storm will burst when least expected, and those who have made no
preparation will go under.  For that reason I am setting all the
hands I can procure to work at the forts, and I shall not rest till
they are completed."

That he was ill at ease was evident, and from that date, for a month,
building operations went on feverishly, and wooden forts were erected
close to each one of the corrals.  Not till they were finished did
Mr. Blunt consider that he could spare Dudley.

"I have waited till now, as an attack might come at any moment," he
said one day when each one of the forts was declared to be ready.
"We have now finished the first portion of our plan.  It remains now
to train the men, to teach them the signals, and to accustom them to
the use of the forts.  After that is done we must communicate with
the neighboring ranchers, and I will send you two youngsters to make
all arrangements.  You shall set out at the end of the week, and I
will give you an escort, for you might be attacked.  Select your own
men, Dudley, and let me know who they are as soon as possible."

The two young fellows could not repress the smile of pleasure which
wreathed their lips at the orders just received.  It meant that they
would ride away from the estancia, and that, added to the joy of
camping in the open, there might even be some adventure, for the
times were likely to be stirring.  They selected their escort, took a
spare horse apiece, and one fine morning rode from the estancia,
armed to the teeth, and prepared for any trouble which might happen
to come their way.




CHAPTER XV

DUDLEY MAKES A DISCOVERY

"There is the list of owners we have to call upon," said Dudley, on
the evening of the day on which they had ridden from the estancia.
"You see, there are three Portuguese, whom Mr. Blunt describes as
good fellows; two Englishmen, with whom he has always been on the
best of terms; and one other individual of whose nationality he is
uncertain.  He is really our nearest neighbor, but somewhat cut off,
owing to a belt of forest.  We shall visit him last."

"The others are some distance away, I suppose?" was Harold's
question.  "That means that we shall be away some days.  Then I act
as cook.  That's agreed?"

"So long as you give us something fit to eat," was the laughing
rejoinder.  "One of the gauchos shall help you, and you two will cook
for the whole party.  I'll tell off two more to gather wood or
thistle tops, and one to fetch water.  We will commence right away,
and so let everyone know what is expected of him.  Call the boys,
Pepito."

The young gaucho, whom Dudley had selected to lead his escort, came
with half a dozen men at his heels trotting up to our hero, and
pulled his horse in with iron hands, which set the beast rearing and
plunging.

"The señor called," he said, stroking his thin mustache with the
fingers of one hand, and looking not a little proud of himself, for
it was a feather in his cap to be selected as the leader of Dudley's
escort.

"I called to inform you that we shall camp here where we stand, for
there is open pampas all round, and a stream of water close at hand.
Tell off a man to help the señor here to do our cooking, and two more
to gather thistle tops or what wood there may be lying about.  I
shall want another to get water for the cooks, and the remainder will
be broken up into guards.  We will commence right away by being
careful; then, if anyone does attempt to surprise us, we shall not be
taken so easily."

"It is good advice, señor," came the answer.  "I have nine gauchos
with me, and will tell them off as you say.  How many guards will the
señor need?  I suggest four.  There are twelve of us here, including
yourselves, and if the señors care to take their turn----"

"Care!  Of course we shall share the work," sang out Dudley briskly.
"We are not going to lie under our saddles and sleep all through the
night when a watch has to be kept.  It will do us good to take our
turn.  Divide the men into three lots of three, then, Pepito, placing
the señor here with one batch, yourself with another, and myself with
the last.  We will watch for two hours, and then the guards will be
changed."

He waved his hand to show that the interview was over, and then
watched as Harold made his preparations for the evening meal.  The
young fellow set to work with a will, for camp cooking was an art
which had attracted his attention since he came to the pampas.  Up
till then he could hardly have prepared a rasher of bacon had he been
asked, but the days he had spent away on the estancia with Dudley,
when raw provisions were carried in their haversacks, and had to be
cooked before they could be eaten, had taught him not a little, and
the lad was beginning to pride himself upon his ability.  Selecting a
hollow down by the stream which ran close beside the camp, he and the
man told off to help him erected a fireplace with boulders taken from
the bed of the stream, and, breaking open a cartridge, damped a
portion of the powder, setting fire to the train of dry grains which
led to it by means of a flint and steel, for matches in those days
were very precious out there on the pampas.  Driftwood from the bank
of the stream had already been piled over the powder, and very soon
there was a merry blaze.  Cooking pots were now produced, and for an
hour, while Dudley and Pepito were busily superintending the
watering, feeding, and grooming of the horses, the two cooks went on
with their work.

"Roast deer, grilled bones, bread and coffee," shouted Harold at
length, appearing before Dudley in his shirt sleeves. "Dinner is
ready and waiting."

"And so are we.  Bring the boys, Pepito," sang out Dudley.  "Let us
get the meal over before it is dark.  Then the men will have time for
a smoke before turning in."

Out there on the pampas, when the first streak of light found the
camps astir, and the rising of the sun often enough discovered the
gauchos, already breakfasted, their horses watered and fed, and
themselves mounted and away after the cattle, a man did not as a rule
wish to sit up late after darkness had fallen.  Candles, like
matches, were scarce, and, besides, the strenuous life, and the fresh
open air, always had their effect.  The gauchos worked hard from
cock-crow till nightfall, and then, having supped and smoked a pipe,
they were content to fall asleep, as if they were children, and make
the utmost of the hours of darkness.  Scarcely an hour, therefore,
after their meal was ended, the camp was wrapped in silence, eight
long figures lying beneath blankets under the shelter of as many
saddles, while on the four sides, spread out some two hundred yards
from the camp, rode the comrades who were on guard.  Gaunt and weird,
too, did these latter look as the light of a small crescent of the
moon fell upon their figures.  Each man was wrapped in his poncho,
which belled out all round him, falling sometimes even lower than his
knees.  Wide-brimmed hats were pulled well over the ears, and in
every case a thin rod stuck up above the shoulder and head, standing
out prominently against the light of the moon, and showing plainly
that the gaucho carried arms.  Sometimes the sturdy fellows would sit
like statues, watching and listening, while their mounts, seeming to
understand what was expected of them, would stand without so much as
a move, waiting, like the patient and well-trained beasts they were,
for the word of their masters.  Perhaps a low whistle would sound
across the camp, and at once the men on guard would lift their heads
and would amble across to where the call had originated, only to
retire again within a minute.  For the whistle was a signal, and a
prompt answer to it told the one who had given it that his comrades
were awake and alert.

"The two hours is ended.  The señor takes the guard."

The tall figure of Pepito bent over our hero, and with a start he was
awake.

"Two hours gone!" he exclaimed, as he rubbed his eyes.  "Why, I lay
down only a minute ago!  There is some mistake."

"There is none, señor.  Two full hours have passed, and you have
slept all the while.  I know that, for I crossed close to you many
times.  The horses are sleeping peacefully, señor, and there is
nothing to report.  The moon falls in two hours more, so you will
know when to rouse the other guard."

It was true.  Dudley sprang to his feet, threw his poncho over his
shoulder, and ran off with his saddle to where the horses were
picketed.  Two minutes later he and his three gauchos took up their
guard, and patrolled round the camp.  It was a new experience to our
hero, and many a time that night did he see an enemy in some bush
across the stream, which on quiet investigation proved to be a
shadow.  For he was like the young soldier taking sentry duty soon
after joining the ranks, who finds this unaccustomed work at first
somewhat trying.  However, nothing startling occurred during the
night, and when the sun flashed across the pampas on the following
morning it found the camp broken up, and Dudley and his escort well
on their way.

A week later the little cavalcade was returning to the estancia,
having paid the last of their visits.

"On the whole we have been very successful," said Dudley, as he and
Harold rode side by side.  "We have interviewed all the ranchers our
employer sent us to see, and they have agreed to bring their men at
once should they receive a signal.  At the same time we have arranged
to keep one another informed of the movements of the natives and of
any strange whites.  By the way, I can't say I like that last fellow
we went to see."

"Nor I," was the prompt answer.  "He was a surly beggar, and I caught
him many a time scowling at you, Dud.  I thought, too, that his
promises were not sincere.  He seemed eager to hear all about this
intended organization of the ranchers, and yet gave me the impression
that he cared little what became of those owning estancias on either
side of him."

"Of whom Mr. Blunt is one, Harold.  Yes, I too thought the man queer.
We will ask Pepito about him."

A call brought the gaucho cantering up at once, and in a minute he
was ambling along beside our hero.

"I can tell you little about the owner of the last estancia we
visited, señor," he said.  "There is no love between his men and
ours, and were it not for the belt of forest which divides us I think
there would be trouble.  As it is, our gauchos have met those from
the estancia we speak of, down in the settlements, and knives have
been drawn, and shots fired.  It is even whispered, señor, that those
who pose as gauchos are merely robbers.  One of the men here can tell
a tale which will open your ears."

"Then call him," was the prompt answer.

A short and very swarthy gaucho galloped up at Pepito's call, and sat
his horse jauntily beside Dudley while Pepito interpreted what he had
to say.

"This man says that once he met a gaucho down at the cattle station
on the river, and heard more than he was intended to hear.  The
fellow had a pocketful of money, and spoke over freely in his cups.
He said enough in any case to show our friend here that service on
this estancia from which we are now riding was far more profitable
than service elsewhere.  He scoffed at the very name of ranching, and
hinted that there was other work."

"Other work!  What can that have been?" asked Dudley curiously, for
to tell the truth the impression he had gained of the last estancia
owner he had interviewed was not very good.  The fellow had been curt
and almost openly rude.  He was a swarthy, truculent man, short of
stature, broad, and with a decidedly unpleasant cast of countenance.
As to his nationality, he was in all probability an Italian.  He
could speak English fairly well, and Harold, who watched him closely,
could have sworn that the fellow had an antipathy to all that was
English.  In fact, after the interview was over, the two left the
house with a feeling of doubt, vaguely wondering whether the
individual who lived there would even lift a finger if his neighbors
were attacked.

"Well, what was this work?" asked Dudley.  "If the man scoffed at
ranching, what else could there have been?  Out here on the pampas
there is little that one can do to earn a living except by looking
after cattle."

Pepito turned to the dusky gaucho and questioned him closely.  Then
he swung round to his young leader and shrugged his shoulders.

"Our friend cannot say definitely, for even a gaucho in his cups has
some caution.  But this is certain.  The forest belt which separates
us runs far into the Indian country, and the man who owns this
estancia has friends there.  It seems that on occasion the Indians
are invited to a feast, just to keep them in good temper, and our
friend here believes that more than one Indian raid has been planned
by this neighbor of ours."

The news came as a blow to Dudley, and for a while he sat his horse
in moody silence, while Pepito and the other gaucho drew rein and
retired at a wave of his hand.

"If the hint that we have just had has any truth in it we have
trouble to face," he said at last.  "If this fellow is a rascal, and
makes friends with the Indians, he is now possessed of all the
information he wants.  He has heard of our forts, and of the
agreement between the ranchers, and in that case he will be fully
prepared.  I think----"

He broke off suddenly, and pulled in his horse with a jerk.

"You think?  Yes?" demanded Harold eagerly, for he too had gained an
unfavorable impression of their last host.

"That it is my duty to look further into this matter.  You see, these
Indian raids are very dangerous, particularly for Mr. Blunt, for he
lives right on the Indian frontier.  Now if the fellow we have
recently left is a rascal----"

"As Pepito's friend seems to believe."

"Exactly.  If he is a rascal and harbors Indians it explains why
these raids are so sudden and so successful as a rule.  I noticed
myself that in our last affair the men who invaded the estancia
retired in this direction.  I can see for what reason.  They make for
the nearest and most secure shelter.  They retire on the forest,
break up into small bands there, and each band drives off a lot of
cattle, knowing well that they are secure, for they are on another
estancia, and it is a rule amongst the owners not to bring their men
on to a neighboring rancho."

"And for the shelter given to the Indians our late friend has some
reward I suppose?" chimed in Harold, a note of satire in his voice.

"If he is a rascal, and if what I am surmising is correct, then he
undoubtedly has something in return for what he does.  There are
scores of our beasts unbranded at certain seasons of the year, and it
must be easy to pick out those animals, and leave the remainder to
the Indians."

"While the man from whom the beasts are stolen can never claim them,
seeing that they do not bear his brand.  I see your meaning, Dudley,"
said Harold thoughtfully.  "In the same way this fellow may harbor a
crew of outlaws, and few would suspect that the raids came from his
estancia."

"That was what I was thinking.  I know that the sudden onset of these
ruffians, and their equally sudden disappearance, have been puzzling
questions for Mr. Blunt.  True, he and his gauchos have never
followed them more than a mile or two over the estancia borders.  But
still, when they have come to inquire, the neighboring gauchos and
the owners of the estancia have seen nothing of the raiders, till
their turn comes, perhaps weeks later.  Everyone thinks that the
rascals disappear into the Indian country, but what if they have
their headquarters near at hand, and the very fact of their being on
an estancia owned by a white man shelters them even from suspicion?"

The very thought was sufficient to make Dudley anxious, and for five
minutes at least he sat his horse like a statue.  Harold looked
expectantly into his face, as if about to ask him a question, while
just in rear, obedient to every action of their leader, the gauchos
sat silently, the fringes of their leggings blowing in the wind, and
their steel bits jingling musically.  Something was in the air they
knew, for why had their leader called two of his following to his
side?  Something told them that the señor was disturbed in his mind,
and, as if to give him every opportunity to get to the bottom of this
trouble, they sat as silent as a band of ghosts, looking keenly into
one another's eyes.

As for Dudley, he felt that he ought to take some action, and he was
puzzled as to what it ought to be.  During the past half-hour the
many tales which Mr. Blunt had told him had been passing across his
mind with unusual vividness.  He knew that his employer had been
raided time and again, just as other owners had been.  He remembered,
too, that the roving bands of outlaws and rascals who at times
infested the pampas had paid more than one visit, and had even burnt
Mr. Blunt out of house and home.  On each occasion they had
disappeared as if by magic, to turn up again days later many miles
away.  What if those bands came from the neighboring estancia?

"I will do it," he said aloud.  "I feel that it is my duty to set a
watch on this fellow.  We have still four days to ourselves, for Mr.
Blunt told me he did not expect us to return till a fortnight had
gone.  We will make the most of those spare days.  We will turn and
ride back."

With a swing he brought his horse's head round in the opposite
direction, and was in the act of cantering away past the gauchos,
when Pepito arrested his attention.

"The master returns?" he asked, with a lift of his chin.  "The señor
suspects this owner whom we have left, and means to watch him?"

"That is my intention," was the short answer.  "About turn!"

"One moment, señor!  Perhaps the gauchos of this man we have seen
suspect that you do not like them.  Perhaps they have been instructed
to watch you till you are on our own estancia.  Look at the forest.
A hundred men might be there, and would see us at once if we turned.
It would be better and wiser perhaps if the señor made his camp close
to here, and then to-night we could mount and ride back till we were
in the forest."

The handsome fellow lifted his hat deprecatingly, as if to apologize
for so boldly venturing his advice.  But Dudley was not the one to
feel injured, particularly when he remembered that Pepito had been
brought up on the pampas, and knew every trick.

"Excellent, Pepito!" he cried.  "Just ride round as if you were
hunting for a likely spot, and then we will camp.  Get the fire
going, picket the horses, and when darkness comes send out the
guards.  If anyone has crept up close by, then they will see us
settled for the night.  We will wait three hours before setting off."

The gaucho gave a vigorous nod of his head, and in a moment was
cantering away, his eyes searching diligently for a favorable camping
site.  Not that there was much difference in the surroundings, for
the pampas spread on every hand, sweeping away in long and slightly
rolling knolls covered with waving grass right to the horizon, save
in the direction from which the party had just come.  There a dense
line of dark forest cut across the low skyline, the forest behind
which lay the estancia of the individual whom they had so recently
visited.  Dudley stood in his stirrups for some minutes, watching the
long green band, wondering whether there was ground for his
suspicions, whether the man who lived at the neighboring estancia
were honest, and merely possessed of an unfortunate and surly manner;
or whether he were indeed a rogue, who harbored rascals, and
organized the constant raids from which the ranchers suffered.

"Honest or not, I feel it my duty to look into the matter," he said
aloud.  "If he is a respectable person, then no harm will have been
done, for I shall take pains to keep out of sight of him and of his
men.  If he is a rascal, why, then, perhaps I shall be able to open
the eyes of Mr. Blunt.  He would be surprised to hear that the
attacks which he imagines are organized in Montevideo are really the
work of a neighbor.  And if that is actually the case, then I fancy
that within a little while we shall be able to put a stop to any
repetition of the trouble, and perhaps even may see the end of this
vendetta which has dogged his footsteps for so many years, and which
has so constantly threatened his life."

"Then you return and pay a second visit?"

It was Harold who asked the question, with a strange glint in his
eyes, and so suddenly that Dudley started.  "I believe that you are
on the right track, and that the gentleman behind those trees is a
rascal.  Dud, it would be fine to do something for our employer.  He
has been good and kind to you, and to me he has been even more.  I'd
do a lot to pay him back in some manner."

"Then you shall have the opportunity," answered Dudley promptly.  "If
we are right, this little business will be dangerous, for if they are
rascals over there they will shoot us on sight.  We must chance that,
and I swear that we will not return till we have cleared up the
matter.  Ah!  Pepito has found a camping ground for us, so we will
dismount."

They slipped out of their saddles and led their horses to the pool
which lay within a hundred yards of the spot.  Then the usual routine
of the camp was carried out.  The horses were picketed, fed, and
groomed.  Saddles were placed in a row close to the fire, while
Harold rolled his sleeves to the elbow, produced his pots and pans,
and commenced to prepare the evening meal.  And all the while one of
the gauchos slowly walked his horse in a wide circle round the camp,
as was the usual custom, his eyes constantly roving the pampas, for
the camp lay on the border of the Indian country.  On this occasion
the gaucho cast many a glance towards the forest, as if he, too, were
suspicious of the men living beyond that dark barrier.  Once even, as
if he had seen something suspicious, the active fellow clambered to
his feet, and stood to his full height on the saddle, one hand over
his eyes to shade them from the light.  But evidently he was
satisfied at length, for he slid down again and rode away to the
opposite side of the camp.

[Illustration: "HE STOOD TO HIS FULL HEIGHT ON THE SADDLE, ONE HAND
OVER HIS EYES TO SHADE THEM FROM THE LIGHT"]

"It was nothing, señor," he said when Dudley walked out to question
him.  "I thought I saw a horseman come from the trees, and so
clambered to my feet.  But there was no one there.  I must have
caught sight of a shadow.  The señor may feel sure that there is none
on the edge of the forest, for had he been there I should certainly
have seen him."

Within an hour they sat down to their evening meal, and, soon
afterwards, darkness having fallen, they lay down.  On the outskirts
of the camp four silent figures rode to and fro for all the world as
if the camp were settled for the night, and as if the little party
had no intention of moving till the sun had risen once again above
the waving pampas.  But the stillness of the place lasted for one
short hour only.  Then Pepito rose, called gently to the men, and led
the way to the horses.  In three minutes all were mounted and ready,
while Dudley and Harold conversed in low tones with the young gaucho
who led the men.

"We shall divide now into two parties," said Dudley.  "Pepito will
take half the men and ride to the left.  We shall take the other half
and make to the right.  An hour before dawn we shall return to this
spot, and, once we are all here, we shall ride away to our own
estancia.  That is clear, I think?"

"As daylight," whispered Harold.

"The señor's words leave no room for doubt.  We divide now?"

"At once," answered Dudley.

They joined the men immediately, divided them in silence into two
groups, and in a moment they had separated, each party sweeping away
from the other and riding in a direction which would take them to
that dark line of forest which separated Mr. Blunt's holding from the
neighboring estancia.

What if Dudley and his friends had known that while they lay in their
camp that evening a band of silent men, led by a short and
repulsive-looking individual, had ridden from the tumble-down house
located on the estancia beyond the forest, and had slowly and
cautiously entered the trees?  And that is what had actually
happened.  For no sooner had our hero and his little party ridden
away out of sight, than the owner of this neighboring rancho had sent
two of his ruffians to follow and watch, and in the evening he came,
together with several others, to join them in the forest where they
had halted.  It was one of these horsemen whom Dudley's scout had
seen.  It was no fancy on his part, and no mere shadow had deceived
his keen eyes.  For men were there, a band of ruffians armed to the
teeth, and waiting only for the word of their leader to ride down
upon the peaceful camp outside on the pampas and murder every one
sleeping there.

"We will surround them, so that none can escape," growled the surly
leader.  "Then, knowing the plans of this Mr. Blunt, we will post men
to cut off any gaucho who may be sent with a message to the other
ranchers, and as the dawn breaks we will attack our neighbors.  At
last, my friend, I shall be even with you.  You escaped my men on the
river, just as you slipped out of my fingers on two former occasions.
This time fortune is favoring me, and when the dawn comes I shall
have paid my debt.  There will be no longer a reason for the
vendetta."

The man clenched his fists and swore in Italian, under his breath.
Then, calling gently to his men, he rode from the trees, and very
soon was spurring down upon the spot so lately occupied by Dudley and
his party.




CHAPTER XVI

HEMMED IN ON EVERY SIDE

A small crescent of the moon rode high in a cloudless sky on that
eventful night when Dudley led his little band back towards the dark
forest line behind which lay the estancia that they had so recently
visited; and the faint light it shed helped them not a little as they
rode.

"We are fortunate," whispered Dudley to Harold, who jogged along
beside him.  "If it had been one of those pitch-dark nights which we
have on occasion, we should have found it difficult to discover even
the forest, for it is wonderful how easily one loses one's bearings
on the pampas."

"Even during broad daylight," came the answer.  "Why, time and again
I have found myself at a loss, and have wondered which direction I
ought to take.  Then I have remembered the advice which Pietro gave,
and soon I have got my direction from the sun.  But we are lucky
to-night, as you say.  There is the forest, and there--yes, there is
Pepito and his following."

They pulled in their horses for a minute and stared steadily ahead to
where, stretching ghostly and silently across their track a mile
away, lay the forest line, the belt of trees which separated them
from the estancia towards which they were riding.  What might not be
in store for them there?  What unthought-of danger might they not be
about to encounter?

"I am sure, as sure as a fellow can well be, that the man who lives
over there is a rascal," murmured Dudley, as if speaking his thoughts
aloud.  "If ever there was 'ruffian,' written upon a man's face, he
had it on his; and the more I think of Mr. Blunt's tales, of the
attacks with which he has had to put up, and the mystery which
surrounds the brigands who have made these attacks, the more sure I
am that there is something in our suspicions.  There is good reason
for them, and to-night we will do our best to settle the matter."

"And supposing you find evidence that this fellow is a ruffian,"
asked Harold thoughtfully, "will you----?"

"Attack him promptly?  No, Harold, that would be doing too much.  I
have no orders to interfere with him, and besides I should hardly be
able to obtain evidence that he or his men had actually made a raid
on Mr. Blunt.  No, our best plan, if our suspicions are confirmed,
will be to slink away, and, once we are back home, help our employer
to make other plans.  Then we will set a net for the fellow, and one
of these days perhaps he will fall into it.  In any case we shall be
warned of the danger, and after that it will be our own fault if this
man is successful.  Ah, there is Pepito!  I can see his men
distinctly.  We will move on again."

Away to his right, dimly illuminated by the feeble rays of the moon,
a ghostly band of riders could be seen jogging slowly on towards the
forest, and a glance told Dudley that the men he saw must be part of
the escort which he had brought from the estancia.  He shook his
reins, pressed his knees into the flanks of his horse, and set the
beast in motion.  Then his eyes left the silent band riding under the
moonlight, and fixed themselves on the forest line ahead.  And
presently, as the distance decreased, he was able to make out the
tops of the trees, which were moving in the breeze, and later even
caught the whisper of the leaves, and the distant creak of swaying
branches.  Down below the summits of the trees the same dark line
continued, save for a small break here and there, where the faint
light from the sky filtered in between the trees.

Nothing else could be seen, and though he searched every foot of that
dark line with his eyes, he discovered nothing to cause him alarm, or
to warn him of the dark figures hovering in the forest.  For some few
feet within the shadow cast by the trees a silent band sat their
horses, waiting the word of the squat individual who rode at their
head.

"The fools!  To think that they should play so nicely into my hands!"
this leader whispered to the man at his elbow.  "Here were we, sure
that the knaves suspected us, about to ride out with the hope of
surprising their camp.  Gauchos are the same all over the pampas, and
who knows, it is more than likely that their guards would have
discovered us, and to take them all would have meant a long and fast
gallop across the plains, a thing that neither you nor I like,
_amico_."

A grunt from his companion told this leader that the man heard and
assented.

"Even a gaucho may be thrown and killed when galloping at night," he
answered sourly.  "There was Guino, an old comrade, who broke his
neck when----"

"Yes, yes, I remember," was the hasty interruption.  "But to return
to these fools.  They have saved us all that trouble.  Instead of our
riding out and attempting to surprise their camp they come to us.
You hear me?  They ride to the forest, thereby placing their necks in
the noose we have prepared, and showing me plainly that if I was
suspicious of them, they also had little faith in me.  Good!  They
shall be captured.  You have placed the men?"

"They are in position, señor.  They await your whistle."

"And you gave them strict orders to do as I said?"

"They understand what is wanted of them thoroughly.  These men are to
be captured.  Our fellows would sooner kill them at once and have
done with them.  But you have reasons for saving their lives, and our
fellows are not fools."

The man answered sourly, as if he considered his leader to be acting
stupidly, and showed plainly that if the order was that this band of
inquisitive gauchos and their English leaders was to be captured
unharmed, he at least was not in favor of such a policy.

"I have given the order strictly," he added; "but were I in your
shoes I would wring the neck of every one of the dogs."

"But you are a fool," came the short, curt answer, while the squat
figure turned in the saddle and faced the man who had just spoken,
the ugly leader of the band of ruffians peering into his lieutenant's
face with such a malignant expression that had it been light the man
would have started backward.  As it was he had incurred the anger of
his master more than once before, and even though the darkness hid
the scowling face which was thrust within a foot of his, this ruffian
cringed, and sat far back in his saddle, muttering beneath his
breath.  For Antonio Sarvisti had a reputation.  He was the leader of
a band of lawless men, and knew that such a position was no sinecure.
Words meant weakness.  Disobedience on the part of one of his men, if
left unpunished for an instant, would lead to mutiny, and then a
swift death would be the reward of the leader.  No, Antonio had a
short way with his following, and a hand which went quickly to his
revolver.  A lesson now and again was of advantage, and this ugly
leader was not the man to hesitate.  He was one of those ruthless
savages who know how to command desperadoes.  He held them at arm's
length, treated them more as children, allowed them to quarrel and
fight as much as they liked amongst themselves, and, like the astute
ruffian he was, whenever they showed signs of discontent he at once
organized a raid with which to distract their attention, for he well
knew that the mere thought of the booty which they would gather would
sweeten their tempers.  But whatever happened, strict obedience to
his mere nod was a point on which he insisted, and the smallest
breach meant always the crack of a pistol and a bullet in the head of
the one who had misbehaved.  Even the surly individual who acted as
Antonio's lieutenant was never free from the haunting fear that he
too might fall a victim to his leader, and it was seldom that he
presumed upon his position.  At this very moment he sat back in his
saddle, staring fearfully at the squat figure of the Italian, while
one hand instinctively slid towards the pocket which held his
revolver.

"You heard," came the sharp question from Antonio.  "I said you were
a fool, and now I think you a bigger one, for your hand is near your
revolver, while, if you will only look, my weapon is within an inch
of your face.  There, feel it!"

The cold ring of steel touched the gaucho's forehead, sending a
shiver through his frame and causing him to start back.  Beads of
perspiration burst out on his face, while his hands trembled.  For
this Antonio was marvellous.

"Preserve us!" he murmured with quivering lips.  "The man sees like a
cat.  Señor, I am at your mercy."

"As you will always be," was the answer, given this time in softer
tones.  "Antonio Sarvisti is not the man to be played with, and if he
makes one of his band a lieutenant, with higher wages and a bigger
share of the booty--a bigger share, mind you, _amico_,--he expects
greater obedience from that man.  But there; we will not quarrel, you
and I.  Thank the fates that you are not in my shoes, and learn to
understand that I have always a reason for every action.  I could
have shot you like a dog a moment ago, but then I should have alarmed
the fools who are riding into our net.  A reason, you see, amico.
Then you will gather that I have something in my mind which causes me
to order that these men shall be unharmed.  Listen!  If they are shot
down and killed, and if afterwards I am successful in slaying my
enemy in the estancia over there, the deaths of so many gauchos will
arouse a cry throughout the pampas.  The owners are already
attempting to combine.  They would gather their forces at once, and
it is likely that information would reach them that it was on this
estancia that the trouble had commenced, for one of these men might
escape.  Now, do you see my meaning?  You would raise a hornet's nest
about us.  Secure these gauchos, kill this Mr. Blunt, and I warrant
that within a month our captives will take service with us.  There,
silence now!  The fools are getting near."

Dudley and his men were indeed within a short distance of the forest
line by now, and it looked as if they would ride right into the trap
which had been set for them without taking any precautions.  But,
suddenly, as the rascals within stared out from the shadows, they saw
our hero lift his arm above his head and bring the band to a
standstill.  Almost at the same instant a shrill whistle sounded away
on the right, a signal which all knew came from Pepito.

"Something wrong, I think," said Dudley to Harold, who rode up to his
elbow.  "I called a halt here as I could see no easy way into the
forest.  Everything looks so black ahead that I thought it wise to
send a man to search for an opening.  And now Pepito gives a whistle.
What can be the reason?"

They sat their horses there, uncertain how to act, and never dreamed
that within a few yards of them, hidden beneath the dense shadow and
the foliage, Antonio Sarvisti and his men lurked unseen.  Not a
whisper reached their ears, though a minute later one of the gauchos
spurred his horse to our hero's side and warned him that he had heard
movements in the forest.

"There are men there, señor," he said in low and warning tones.  "I
heard them as they moved.  This owner whom we have come to watch is
there with his following, and we are in danger of attack.  There!
That was a horseman.  I heard the hoofs of the beast moving over the
fallen leaves."

"And here is Pepito," said Dudley suddenly, catching sight of a band
of horsemen riding towards him across the pampas.  "You say you heard
men moving.  Perhaps Pepito has heard the same, and in that case
there will be nothing left for us but to retreat as fast as possible.
Give a whistle, my man."

An answering signal was sent, and very soon, spurring hard and
galloping as fast as possible, Pepito and his men arrived on the
scene.

"Your pardon, señor," he said, as he pulled his panting horse in
within a foot of Dudley.  "We were about to enter the forest through
a gap, when sounds came to our ears.  It may have been the wind,
though I think myself that it was caused by horsemen.  After that I
did not venture to enter, but signalled so that you would be warned."

"We have found the same here.  One of the gauchos declares that he
heard horsemen moving over the fallen leaves, Pepito.  If that is the
case these men are watching us, and are prepared to attack us.  I
think we had better ride away on to the pampas, and make direct for
the estancia."

"The señor is right," came the prompt answer.  "It would be madness
to enter now.  Better collect in a ring and gallop away at our
fastest pace.  If men are there they will surely fire at us the
instant we move away, and if we went slowly we should be killed."

"While if we ride in a bunch we shall as certainly make an excellent
mark for their bullets," exclaimed Dudley, at a loss how to act, for
he had never anticipated such evil fortune as to be discovered in the
very first stage of his enterprise.  Even now he could hardly believe
that the actions of his little band had been watched, and that men
were within the forest, ready to pounce upon his following when they
entered.  Nor did he even dream that Antonio Sarvisti, the evil-faced
owner of the neighboring estancia, had already laid his plans to
capture the whole party, and afterwards to fall upon Mr. Blunt and
the remaining gauchos, and do his best to kill the former and wreck
his estancia.

"We will gallop away now," Dudley said, after a moment's thought,
"and as we ride we will separate.  Pass those orders.  Are all ready?"

He waited for a few seconds, so as to make sure that all understood,
and was on the point of giving the signal for the retirement of the
whole party, when suddenly a voice was heard from the forest, a voice
the tones of which he and Harold instantly recognized.

"Ride if you will, señor, and be shot down by my men.  But if you
will take your orders from me you will at once throw down your arms
and dismount, for I have sixty men here, and each one has a rifle
trained on you.  Dismount, señor, instantly!"

The words came like blows, so unexpected were they.  In a flash
Dudley saw himself and his men prisoners, and the task which he had
set himself, and from which he had hoped for so much, turned into a
terrible disaster.  In a second he realized that all his suspicions
of this Antonio Sarvisti were more than well founded, and that the
capture of his little band would leave Mr. Blunt and his estancia
open to instant attack.  The forest was before him, black and
forbidding, and sheltering beneath its deep shadow the ruffian whose
movements he had returned to watch, while behind lay the moonlit
pampas, and freedom if he could but escape.  Then he thought of the
rifles, which no doubt covered every member of his band, and realized
that a movement of the horses would mean death for many of his men.
Surrender alone seemed to be left, and then----

"Pepito," he whispered, "there is only one course.  Will the men
support me?"

"Try them, señor," came the crisp answer.

"Then let them dismount as if about to surrender.  The instant they
are off their horses they are to lie full length and wriggle forward
into the forest.  We will fight these fine fellows in their own
cover."

"Well, the señor has thought it out?" came the jeering question from
the forest.  "He is about to surrender.  That is well.  Dismount and
no harm shall come to you."

Without troubling to reply, Dudley flung his leg across the pommel of
his saddle and slipped to the ground, each one of the party following
his example.  Then, in less time than it takes to tell, all were on
their faces and creeping rapidly towards the cover.

"Treachery!  Fire on them!" shouted Antonio, suddenly realizing that
a trick was being played.  "Call the flanks out into the open and let
them surround these men as was arranged.  Fire on them, or they will
give us trouble."

The squat figure of the rascal showed up for one instant, as a
gleaming ray from the moon penetrated through a break in the trees
and fell upon him, then he, too, slid to the ground, and in a flash
was hidden from view.  A second later a volley spurted from the dense
cover in front, the bullets ripping the leaves and hurtling out over
the pampas.  Then there came a solitary shot.  Crash!  A rifle, fired
from a point some six yards away, suddenly lit up the dense darkness
of the forest, while a ball whizzed over Dudley's head and thudded
against the flanks of one of the horses.  The poor beast rose high in
the air and stood there poised on his hind legs; then he lost his
balance and tumbled backwards with a crash.  But he was up in an
instant, and began to lash out in all directions, kicking the other
horses till all were in a condition of terror.

Crash!  Another shot startled the silence, and then came a cry, the
sharp call of a man who has been wounded.  It was Pepito, who lay
just beside Dudley, and at that moment was creeping into the shadow
of a bush on the very edge of the forest.  But he was not the lad to
make a fuss because a bullet had ripped a hole through the muscles of
one of his thighs.  One sharp cry of pain he gave, and then, setting
his lips, and fixing his eyes on the spot from which the shot had
come, he raced forward, bending low all the while and gripping his
hunting knife in his hand.

"One to us, I think!" he heard someone exclaim in low tones.  "Now
for number two."

The gaucho's keen eyes could even penetrate the darkness of the
forest, and as he sat on his heels, waiting for the man who had fired
to show himself, he saw a barrel pushed through the fork of a trunk
within three feet of where he sat.  A white blotch behind showed
where the man's face was, and gave Pepito all the information he
required.  With one bound he reached the tree and threw the muzzle of
the weapon up just as the man pulled the trigger.  Then, ere the
flash had died down, he had reached behind the trunk, had dragged the
ruffian who had fired closer to him, and with one stroke of his knife
had sent him to his end.

"So let all robbers die," he murmured, as he stooped over the man.
"We will speak to the others in the same way."

Assuring himself that the man was dead, he fell on all fours again,
and crept back towards Dudley, narrowly missing a shot which one of
his own gauchos fired at him as he came.

"A blow for a blow, señor," he said.  "The ruffian hit me through the
thigh and has been punished.  The others have gone, I think, for they
know well that here in the forest we are equal to them."

"Then get the men together and set a watch all round," was the sharp
order.  "After that we will place two men to cover the horses with
their rifles, for it would never do to have them captured."

"And then, señor?"

"We will wait.  There is nothing more that we can do, for if we
attempt to move through the forest we shall certainly be attacked.
Those fellows have a clever leader, who saw at once that in the
darkness of this place we had as much chance as he and his men.  But
you may be sure that the rascals are all round us, ready to fire a
volley into us the instant we move or rise to our feet.  As to how
long we shall wait I do not know; but if only the moon would go down
our course would be open.  We should rush to the horses and ride for
our lives."

The predicament in which Dudley and his following found themselves
was indeed by no means a pleasant one.  It is true that they had
escaped capture for the moment, but it was very doubtful if they were
any the better off for that; for retreat across the pampas meant
disaster, and the volley which had greeted them as they threw
themselves on to the ground had told them plainly that they had an
overwhelming number to deal with.  The wonder was, in fact, that one
only of their party had been wounded, and that the bullets had
whistled over the heads of the others.  A minute later the aspect of
affairs was seen to be even worse, for no sooner had Pepito placed
his guards on every side than he himself went to look at the horses,
creeping like a snake through the forest as he made for the edge, for
to have stood up would have meant to invite a bullet.

"Gone!" he exclaimed, with an exclamation of dismay, as he stared
into the open.  "Those robbers have been too quick for us.  We are
cornered, and can never escape."

He crept back to Dudley's side with his tale, and there for some few
minutes lay at full length, whispering to him.

"Gone, señor," he said with a groan, "as if they had vanished into
the night.  There is no trace of them, though I looked to right and
left.  The rascals must have driven them into the cover.  We are
cornered.  Escape is out of the question."

"Never say die!" answered Dudley stubbornly.  "Things look nasty, I
admit, but we are not taken yet.  But there is something else which
is worrying me.  Listen, Pepito!  We must send a warning to Mr.
Blunt, for I can see the game which this fellow and his men are
playing.  We thought to take them unawares, and to find out all about
them; while they must have seen that we suspected them.  More than
that, once they had heard from us of the intended combination of the
owners of the estancias, they saw that instant action on their part
was necessary, or we should soon be too strong for them.  Our faces
must have told them what we thought, and have warned them of the
report we should give to Mr. Blunt.  The rest is clear."

"Clear, señor.  I do not understand," answered Pepito.

"Then I will tell you.  The rascals decided to attack us at once and
capture every one of our band.  Then that report would never reach
our estancia; while, instead of our arriving, this Italian--for that
I think he is--would raid the place with his ruffians, and as likely
as not kill our employer and those who attempted to defend him."

An exclamation burst from the gaucho spread full length at his side.
"Then that explains their presence here, señor," he said.  "They
followed us, and were waiting in the forest to ride out and surround
our camp.  And we, thinking to watch their movements, raised the
camp, and rode back here into their arms.  Bah!  It makes one's blood
boil to think that we have had such evil luck.  But you were saying,
señor, that you had some trouble."

"I have," replied Dudley decidedly.  "We have others to think of.
There is Mr. Blunt; he must be warned.  Someone must creep away from
here and make for the estancia.  I would go myself, but I am in
command, and stand or fall with my men."

"Then I will go," came the prompt answer, while Pepito sprang eagerly
to his feet, only to fall again the next moment; for now that the
contest had slackened and active movement had not been necessary for
some few minutes, the fact that he had been wounded was borne in on
his mind.  He had felt the stinging blow given by the bullet, and had
at once determined on revenge, for this handsome and gallant gaucho
had the hot blood of Spain in his veins, and to him a blow received
demanded an instant return.  But punishment had been given, the enemy
had for the moment been forced to retire, and now the pain of his
wound returned.  The injury was not a very serious one, but
sufficient to make the limb stiff and movement painful.  It was clear
at once that the task of reaching the estancia was, for him at least,
an impossible one.

"More evil luck!" he groaned.  "This wound would tire me before I had
gone many miles, even on a horse.  The task falls to some other man.
If the señor will permit I will choose one who is crafty and brave."

A minute later, indeed, he had called one of his gauchos to his side,
where he repeated the orders which his young leader gave.

"You will creep out into the forest and search for a horse, _amigo_,"
he said.  "Take your pistol and knife only, and strike hard if you
should meet one of the robbers.  When you are through, ride for your
life and warn them at the estancia.  Let them gather the other owners
and the gauchos and bring them, back here at the gallop.  There, go.
You are brave."

The man, a young fellow of Pepito's own age, merely grunted his
assent, gripped Dudley and his comrade by the hand, and at once crept
off into the cover like a snake.  Behind him he left the remainder of
the little band, crouched low amid the trees and brambles, listening,
listening eagerly for a sound.  Once they heard a sharp crack, the
sound made by a man who has trodden on a dried stick, and a second
later a low thud, a gurgling cry, and then a second's silence.  But
the stillness of the forest did not last for long, for once more the
voice of the leader of the band of rascals was heard.

"Fire!" he shouted.  "They are trying to move through the forest.
Give them a volley."

Hardly had the words died down when from every point, from right and
left, and from the pampas even, spurts of flame lit up the darkness,
while bullets ripped through the leaves, sending a shower to the
ground, ricochetting from the trunks of the trees, and singing
through the air in a manner sufficient to awe the boldest.  Some two
minutes later the gallant gaucho who had made the attempt to slip
through the hands of the surrounding enemy crawled to Dudley's side
again.

"Alas, señor," he whispered, "the net is drawn too closely even for a
snake to escape.  By an evil chance I happened to tread on a dried
stick, and in an instant one of the ruffians was upon me.  He died,
señor.  My blade found a spot between his shoulders, and he dropped
without a word.  There were others near him, and for that reason,
seeing it was impossible to advance, I returned to warn you.  We are
surrounded."

The news was only too true.  Dudley and his men were now hemmed in on
every side.  Enemies surrounded them so closely that, as the gaucho
had said, even a snake stood little chance of being able to crawl
through.  Their horses were captured, their retreat cut off, and the
least that could be said of their position was that it was desperate.
Surrender, a miserable ending to all their hopes and ambitions,
stared them in the face, and, worse than all, perhaps--a fact which
recurred time and again to Dudley,--the capture of his little party
meant more even than imprisonment.  He could see the matter very
clearly now, and realized that once he and his men were caged there
was nothing to prevent this rascal Sarvisti from riding down on the
lands owned by Mr. Blunt and utterly annihilating all who lived
there.  As if in a dream he saw the comfortable house on the estancia
in flames, and on the threshold the body of Mr. Blunt, done to death
by this enemy who had so often and in so many ways attempted to kill
him.

"It shall never be," he said aloud, clenching his fists.  "While I
live I swear that I will stop this ruffian.  I will never surrender!"




CHAPTER XVII

FIGHTING IN THE FOREST

"I will never surrender!  However hopeless matters look, I will fight
these rascals, for to give in now means almost certain death to our
employer."

Dudley gave expression to his thoughts aloud, and as he spoke brought
one clenched fist down upon the root of a tree against which he lay,
with a thud which all could hear.  About him, spread full length in
the grass and brambles, and separated here and there by the trunk of
a tree, lay his little band of followers, the gallant fellows who
stood between him and capture.  Grim and stern they were too, and, if
only it had been light, Antonio Sarvisti, could he have seen them,
would not have been so confident.  For Dudley had already proved his
pluck to the gauchos.  He had once before led them through fighting
and difficulty, and for that very reason, now that matters looked so
hopeless, they whispered to one another that their good fortune was
not yet gone, that they still had their young leader, and that he
would bring them out of this scrape just as he had done out of a
former.  At his words they edged a trifle nearer, strained their
ears, and then, as the meaning of the words was interpreted to those
who had but a poor knowledge of English, they set up a cheer which
astounded the enemy.

"The dogs!" exclaimed Antonio Sarvisti, emerging from the cover of a
tree some twenty yards away.  "That cheer sounds as if they were full
of confidence.  They surely can have no hope of escape, and when the
light comes they will have no other course but to surrender, for we
shall be able to shoot them down like rabbits.  Eh, _amico_?"

His sour-faced lieutenant, a gaucho who had been in the rascal's
employ for many a year, and whose predatory life seemed to have
embittered him, growled a reply, and he stood for a while beside him,
listening to the faint sound of conversation which came from Dudley's
party, while he chewed a leaf thoughtfully.  It was clear that if his
employer were sanguine as to the result of this contest, this rascal
had many doubts, for he shook his head, tossed the leaf to the
ground, and carefully sheltered himself behind a tree.

"A cheer is a cheer anywhere," he answered surlily.  "We have been
expecting a call to say that they wished to surrender, and now they
set up a shout which proves that they are still of good heart.  What
if the cheer means that one of their number has escaped?"

The very idea of such a thing caused the Italian leader to grind his
teeth.  But a moment's reflection reassured him.

"Pshaw!" he exclaimed, with a somewhat feeble attempt at a laugh.
"That, we know, is not the case.  They have made the attempt, and
have failed.  True, the dog who tried to slip through killed one of
our number; at least that is the report brought to me.  But I swear
that not even a mouse could break through.  They are cooped in, and
when the dawn comes, ah!"

"You will not be able to shoot better than they," exclaimed his
right-hand man.  "Think!  We are here in the forest, which is as
dense as can be.  Can we see them better than they can see us?  Are
we under finer cover than they?  Pooh!  They have a smart leader, who
took the only possible course, and for my part I believe that we have
hard work before us.  That young fellow who leads them will not give
in too hurriedly.  He has seen some fighting, you must remember, and
he knows the value of his position as well as you do.  Besides----"

"Besides what?" demanded Antonio, an oath escaping his lips, for the
words of his lieutenant roused his smouldering anger.  "What, man?
You are ever the one to croak.  What is the trouble now?"

"I was about to say that even if this youngster were inclined to
surrender, for the sake of his own skin, there is something else
which will keep him fighting."

"Something else?  And that is something even more important than his
own skin?" exclaimed Antonio with a sneer.

"More important still," went on the rascal beside him, seeming to
take a delight in putting the dark side to his leader.  "Something
which you have often been troubled with yourself.  This man Blunt is
a Britisher you say.  An Italian, a Spaniard, a man of any nation you
please to pick, would perhaps have given in before now, and have
slipped away from this country.  Has this man Blunt shown a sign of
doing that?"

"Not yet," came the curt answer, "and it would have been better for
him had he done so, though I should have followed.  The fool does not
know when there is danger.  He has wonderful fortune.  Think, man!  I
have raided his estancia more than once, and set the house in flames,
and yet the fellow has escaped owing to some unforeseen chance.  My
men have attacked him in Montevideo, he has been waylaid in Buenos
Ayres, and of late on the river.  The dog has a charmed life.  But
his fortune is gone now.  This time it has come in Antonio Sarvisti's
direction."

"With this alteration," said the man beside him, as if determined to
snatch at every chance to belittle the prospects of his own employer.
"I was saying that this man Blunt is British.  This young fellow who
commands in front of us is of the same nationality, and we have met
many besides.  They are dogs for stubbornness.  They will often fight
when even an imbecile would see that further struggle is out of the
question and likely to lead to death, and worse than that----"

He waited for a moment, while Antonio Sarvisti ground his teeth and
muttered beneath his breath.

"Worse than that!" he exclaimed with rising anger.  "Why, have you
nothing but croaks to give?  What is this other matter?"

"Simply this.  The youth who commands is bosom friend to this Mr.
Blunt, and he knows well what surrender means to his employer.  You
follow, _amico_?  It is not his own skin and his own safety which
troubles him; it is the security of his employer.  There!  He is
British, I repeat; and men of that nation stick fast to one another.
He would rather be slain himself than let you ride over to the
estancia unexpectedly and murder his employer."

Having given vent to all that was on his mind, and, incidentally,
roused his own rascally employer to a condition of furious anger, the
gaucho who had been speaking calmly plucked another leaf from the
overhanging branch, and proceeded to chew it thoughtfully.  In his
heart the fellow was tired of this master of his.  He himself was not
so young as he had been, and the constant fear of a sudden death at
the hands of his employer had already begun to prey on his mind and
unsettle him.  He had had a warning of what he might expect that very
night, and he had seen many a man shot by the cold-blooded ruffian
beside him.

There was another reason to promote his dissatisfaction with his
present employment.  This gaucho had been unusually careful.  He had
not spent all his ill-gotten gains, but had hoarded them; at that
very moment his mind turned to the thought of his wealth and to the
spot where it was securely hidden.

"Pah!" he exclaimed beneath his breath.  "I shall wait till this
matter is settled, and then this Antonio Sarvisti must look for
another lieutenant."

There was silence for a while between the two men, while each was
engaged with his thoughts, which in the case of the leader of this
robber band were none of the pleasantest.  For this lieutenant of his
had opened his eyes a little, and the Italian was beginning to lose
some of his confidence.  He could see now that even sixty men might
not be able to help him, and that his own position in the forest was
not a whit better than Dudley's.  For many minutes he pondered on the
situation, and wondered whether he should order his men to make a
rush and so capture the band.  But all the conquests of this robber
band had been made by sudden and unexpected attacks.  Often enough
their raids were met by single men alone, totally unprepared to
defend themselves.  In consequence it was seldom that they had cause
to mourn the loss of one of their number.  But on this night two had
been killed, while the shots which Dudley and his men had sent in
response to the volleys aimed at them had resulted in half a dozen
wounds amongst the enemy.  The lesson had not been lost, and Antonio
Sarvisti knew in his own mind that if he gave the order some at least
of his following would not respond.  There would be disobedience to
his orders, and such a thing would be fatal when matters were so
critical.

"Pshaw!  I will starve the brat and his men," he exclaimed aloud.  "I
will keep a close ring drawn round him, and leave him till he makes
up his mind to surrender."

"And what of the attack on the estancia?" his lieutenant ventured to
ask.  "You will make that at once?"

"Not till these men are taken," was the short answer.  "I have none
to spare for a raid on the estancia.  Wait a little, _amico_.  When
the dawn comes you will see that we shall be successful."

Even the astute Antonio could not think of everything, for had he
been able to do so he would have seen at once that he still had the
game in his own hands.  He had captured the horses belonging to
Dudley's party, and had some sixty men.  Had he been the energetic
and clever leader which he, in his vanity, fancied himself to be, he
would have left only a few of his men in the forest, just sufficient
to hold Dudley with their fire, and would have spurred straight for
Mr. Blunt's estancia.  Once he had raided the place successfully,
what did it matter if this small party of stubborn men escaped him?
Supposing they discovered that he had withdrawn a number of his
following, they were still without their horses, and long before they
could secure them Mr. Blunt and the estancia he held would have been
attacked.  True, other owners would soon know that it was from
Antonio Sarvisti's estancia that the raids came, but then he, Antonio
Sarvisti, could move to another part of the pampas.

"For years now I have been following this man Blunt," he said to
himself, as he sheltered behind a tree.  "I and my brothers slew his
wife, and would have killed him had we had fortune.  What matters it
to me if all hereabout know that I hold a gang of raiders on my
place, provided I carry out the end of this vendetta?  The Englishman
came to Sicily when he was not wanted.  He married our cousin against
our will, and flouted us when we would have prevented him.  He made
little of the quarrel which had even then existed for some years
between the two families, and for that reason he was marked for
death.  He shall die!  I, Antonio Sarvisti, have sworn it.  As soon
as I have dealt with this beggarly youngster I will ride to the
estancia and burn the house.  Yes, I will toss this man into his own
flaring dwelling."

The darkness of the night and the deep shadows cast by the trees hid
the ruffian's snarling features; but darkness did not cloak the sound
of his voice, for he had spoken aloud.  Indeed Dudley and his
comrades could hear someone speaking, faintly, it is true, but
sufficiently clear to give them the direction from which the sound
came.  It was Harold who calmly raised his rifle, held the muzzle
low, and sent a shot swishing past the tree behind which the rascally
leader of this band of robbers sheltered.

"Ah!  Not frightened into surrender yet?" cried Antonio, shaking his
fist with rage.  "You shall see.  I will teach you when the morning
comes."

He stared out from behind the trunk of the tree, only to withdraw
somewhat hastily, for Harold had reloaded, and a moment later sent
another shot thudding against the tree, a second reminder to Antonio
Sarvisti that matters were not so desperate for the small party
hemmed in by the circle which he had drawn about them.

"Sixty was the number of the men he said he had with him," said
Dudley a moment later.  "Do you consider that he has as many as he
says?"

He swung round to Pepito, who at that moment was engaged in fastening
a long scarf about his wounded limb.  The gaucho dropped the ends at
once, stared out into the trees, and then nodded.

"He has as many, señor," he said with emphasis.  "A ruffian out on
the pampas can have as many men as he desires.  This fellow has
sixty, if he said so, and if I had been in command those men would
long ago have rushed forward and made a capture.  It is a good sign.
Ruffians are often cowards.  They fear to attack us.  They wait for
the dawn, when they hope to be able to shoot us down.  Were I one of
them, and the plan that you speak of had been formed, I would leave a
few in the trees to fire, and make it appear that there were many,
while I sent off the bigger half to raid the estancia."

"The very thing that I fear this Antonio Sarvisti may do," said
Dudley, a note of anxiety in his voice.  "Now, listen.  I have said
that I refuse to surrender."

"Hooray!" shouted Harold, gripping his hand.  "That's what the men
feel about the matter.  I have been speaking to a few.  They will
fight to a finish."

"Then we must prepare.  We have two matters to attend to.  We have to
decide how to defend ourselves, and we must send news to our
employer.  If he is warned in time, no danger can threaten him, and
in addition he could, by collecting gauchos from neighboring
estancias, relieve this party, and perhaps even surround this band of
robbers.  Those two points must be seen to."

There was silence for a while as Dudley and Harold and the gaucho
leader considered the matter.  To Harold and Pepito it seemed
hopeless even to consider the question of sending a warning to their
employer, for an attempt had already failed, and it was clear that
the enemy were in a close ring round them.

"What food and ammunition have we?" asked our hero suddenly.

"Abundance!" came the prompt answer.  "The señor gave orders that
each man should ride to-night with rations for two days.  Those
rations will last, at a pinch, for four days."

"And water?" suddenly demanded Harold.

"We have none, señor, but I had not forgotten its need.  Do not
forget that a forest in this pampas region spells water, for
otherwise there would not be trees.  I have been here before, and
know that there are wells.  If those are out of our reach, as seems
probable, then a hole dug only a little distance into the soil will
soon be filled with fluid.  As to ammunition, each man has many
rounds.  Given a good position, there is sufficient here to protect
the party for many hours."

"Then we will make the position," said Dudley, "and now I will tell
you what I am going to do.  I cannot expect any of my men to
undertake a task which I do not eagerly accept myself.  I place
Harold Joyce in charge of this party once I am gone, while I myself
am determined to get through these men and ride for the estancia.
Listen!"

"You!  It is madness!  You are in command, and the defence depends on
your being here.  You are not serious!"

It was Harold who suddenly spoke, rising to his feet in his
excitement.  But Dudley dragged him to the ground at once, and
fortunately for him, for Antonio had given recent orders that fire
should be opened whenever a sound was heard.  It happened, therefore,
that hardly had Harold fallen full length again when a storm of
bullets swept over the prostrate party, showering leaves on to their
heads, and then speeding harmlessly out over the pampas.

"I will go," repeated Dudley quietly.  "It may seem to some that my
place is here, and I have already said so, and that the danger to
this party is greater than that threatening Mr. Blunt.  I do not
think so now.  This little following of mine is certain to be
captured as soon as its ammunition gives out, though I think that it
can hold its own till then.  After that it will be captured.  What
then will happen to our employer?"

An exclamation came from either side of him, showing clearly that
Harold and Pepito knew well what would be the result.

"Now listen to the plan," said Dudley.  "Let each man make use of his
hunting knife and cut a trench in front of him.  Feel here for
yourselves.  The ground is soft, and I have already made quite a
respectable hollow.  The earth removed from the hole has been thrown
up in front, so that, when my trench is longer I shall be able to lie
at full length and shall have splendid protection.  Now if, during
the three or four hours which still must pass before the dawn comes,
we cut our trenches, and connect them up one to another, we shall
have quite a little fort to protect us, about which we shall be able
to move, with care, so as to reinforce any point which may be
attacked.  In any case the whole of our trenches will cover very
little ground, for we had better keep close together.  Do you begin
to follow?"

During the last five minutes, as he lay on the ground, he had been
diligently using his knife and fingers, and, as he said, had found
the soil at the base of the trees light and loamy.  Gripping Pepito's
arm, and then Harold's in turn, he placed their hands on the mound
which he had thrown up in front of him, and in a few moments showed
them plainly what he meant.

"It is good," said the former with something approaching a chuckle.
"The señor's busy brain is at work, just as it was on the eve of our
night attack on the Indians.  This fort is as good as made.  In an
hour the men will have completed it.  There will be a bank between us
and the enemy, and encircling us, and in the hollow within we shall
lie.  Our provisions can be placed in one corner under my charge, and
also the ammunition.  Then an allowance can be given to each man, and
the supply made to last all the longer, for there will be no waste.
Good, señor, I begin to fear these ruffians less.  But the second
portion of your plan?"

"Will be carried out as soon as the fort is completed," answered
Dudley, determined to keep his own counsel for the moment.  "Instruct
the men, and let us get to work."

It wanted very little tuition to inform the gauchos what was expected
from them, for, though almost devoid of education, these honest
fellows of the pampas were nature's pupils.  They had roughed it from
their earliest days, and often their own safety had depended on their
sagacity.  They received Pepito's whispered instructions with
enthusiasm, waited only till the limits of the narrow fort had been
marked out, and then each set to work with frantic energy, chopping
the ground with his knife, throwing handfuls of soil before him, and
gradually hollowing out the ground in his immediate rear.  It is
wonderful what active men can do under such circumstances, when life
may depend on their exertions.  Dudley's party had soon cleared quite
a respectable-sized hollow, and had thrown up a mound all round, on
the top of which the brambles and grass which they had cut during the
operations were deposited.  Here and there a tree thrust its trunk up
in their hollow, but that only added to their cover and caused no
inconvenience, while one of them, one of the forest giants, happening
to have a large hollow at its root, provided a storehouse for food
and ammunition, over which Pepito at once took charge.  As for water,
one of the gauchos set to work in the very centre of the hollow, and
in a little while had dug some three feet into the ground, scooping
the earth out with his hands.  Into this shallow well water began to
trickle almost immediately, a fact which heartened the garrison and
caused them to give vent to another cheer.

"The novelty of the idea strikes them, señor," said Pepito with a
chuckle of delight.  "A little time ago matters looked desperate and
hopeless.  Now they are rosy with promise.  We are ready, señor.
Your orders?"

"They are simple, Pepito.  Two of the enemy were killed?"

"Two, señor: one who sent his bullet into my thigh, and the other
whom our comrade settled."

"It is the first we have to deal with.  He lies a matter of five
yards outside our fort, I think?"

Pepito nodded emphatically, forgetting that the darkness hid all
movement.

"That is so, señor," he said eagerly.  "I know the spot well.  It is
perhaps less than five yards away.  What then?"

"I am about to borrow his clothes, that is all," came the calm
answer.  "At least, I shall borrow a portion.  I noticed that every
gaucho in the service of this Antonio wore a red scarf about his
neck, and a hat of different color from ours.  I shall borrow those
two articles from the man who is dead, and shall then join the enemy.
Now listen to my instructions.  One of you will creep away in the
direction opposite to that in which this body lies, and will cut a
narrow trench.  His task is to strike the nearest tree with a stick,
and to make such sounds as will cause the enemy to think that an
attempt at escape is being made in that direction.  As he lies there,
the others will fire above his head--anywhere, so long as they take
care not to hit him.  They will, in particular, pay attention to that
part of the forest where the dead man lies.  You understand?"

An exclamation broke from Pepito and Harold.

"It is all clear," said the latter.  "We attract their attention to
the opposite direction, and, having searched the forest along the
path which you will be taking, and, let us hope, shot any of the
ruffians hiding there, we occupy the attention of the rascals till
you get clear.  But, by Jove, Dudley, the risk is terrible."

"Hush!  There is a movement.  I hear men creeping in the forest!"

It was one of the gauchos who gave the alarm, and at once every
member of Dudley's party had taken his place behind the low walls of
the fort.

"Someone is moving, certainly," whispered Pepito.  "There, I heard
the sounds.  They are coming closer."

"Are all loaded?" asked our hero quickly.  "Then let them hold their
fire till I call.  Yes, it looks as if we were about to be attacked,
and in that case our defences are likely to prove useful.  Tell the
men to lie at full length and keep absolutely silent.  We will give
these rascals a lesson if we have the chance."

But now the swish of leaves and the noise of many men approaching was
plainly to be heard, and every second proved to the defenders that a
forward move was being attempted by the enemy.  Dudley's little
following lay as still as rocks, each man with his rifle at his
shoulder and his eyes close behind the screen of brambles thrown up
in front of him.

"Repeat the order," whispered Dudley.  "No one is to fire till I
call, and then only at the flashes made by the weapons of the enemy.
If they rush us, lie still in the hollow.  That will puzzle them
badly."

A minute later a shrill whistle sounded through the forest, and then
came a call from Antonio Sarvisti.

"On them!" he shouted.  "Pour in a volley and then charge."

From every quarter, from the forest in front and to right and left,
and from the pampas in the rear, came the splutter of musketry, while
flashes broke out here and there, lighting up the darkness for an
instant and then disappearing, only to be succeeded by others.  And
the light which they gave showed the leader of the band of robbers
and his men charging down upon the small party enclosed within their
lines.  The gaucho following of Antonio Sarvisti were undertaking a
task which few appreciated.  They were attacking men fully prepared
to receive them, and men, moreover, whose exact whereabouts was
unknown.  They had crept as close as possible, and now, despite the
danger of wounding comrades, poured in an irregular and harmless
volley, which ripped the trees and sped away in all directions.  Then
they charged, only to come quickly to a halt and commence to reload
their pieces.  For not a shot answered them; not a voice was heard.
The sensation was uncanny.  They began even to think that the birds
had flown.

"Charge!" shouted Antonio again, placing himself at the head of some
of the men and advancing, revolver in hand.  "Now, another volley!"

"Fire!" cried Dudley, hearing and understanding his order.  "Fire at
the flashes!"

There was silence for one brief instant, and then once more, from
every quarter, but on this occasion from a closer range, numbers of
weapons were discharged, while from the dark hole in which the
defenders hovered a stinging reply came, each one of the gauchos
waiting his time, and aiming at the flashes made by the weapons of
the enemy.  A minute later the attack had been abandoned.  Antonio
Sarvisti and his men had slunk back to their old positions, while the
defenders still lay in their primitive fort, confident and brimful of
enthusiasm.

"Just the time for me to move," whispered Dudley.  "Harold, I leave
the men to you.  Whatever happens, hang on to this place and hold
these rascals round you.  If I get through, and can take a horse, I
shall be at the estancia by noon, and might even be back soon after
dark.  If all is well, fire an occasional shot through the night.  I
shall then know that you can last till morning, and will make
arrangements to attack these fellows.  Now, good-by!  Don't forget.
Hang out, whatever happens.  We have to think not of ourselves but of
the man whose bread and butter we eat.  Good-by!"

The two gripped hands in the darkness of the forest, and lay there a
moment or two without saying a word.  Then Dudley turned to Pepito.

"Carry out the orders," he said softly, "and when I am gone look to
my comrade here for all commands.  Let the men stick to him whatever
happens."

The tall and handsome gaucho would have liked to shake his leader's
hand, and even to detain him, but Pepito was at heart a soldier,
trained to obedience, and always ready to carry out his instructions.
For one second he waited, and then, turning to the men, whispered
that the time had come to open fire, and for one of their number to
creep some few yards into the forest.  Presently a hail of bullets
was sweeping through the trees, now in this direction and now in
that, searching every part, but hurtling in particular along the path
which Dudley would take.  The shots died down for a while, and the
rascals, stretched in a wide circle around, heard the sounds made by
a man creeping through the trees.  A stick snapped, a rifle struck a
tree and repeated the clumsy blow.  Leaves were disturbed, and every
whisper told that the tiny garrison was sending someone to seek for
help.

"Good!  We will teach them," muttered Antonio.  "Send a dozen men in
that direction, _amico_."

"Time to move," whispered Dudley.  "I think our comrade has attracted
their attention.  Give them a few more shots as I go."

He wriggled out of the fort, listened for a moment, and then dived
into the forest, his fingers searching in every direction for the
body of the man whom Pepito had slain.  Not a sound did he make.
Those he left behind strained their ears in vain.  Their leader was
gone on a quest which was full of danger, but which might yet
preserve the life of the man who employed them and save those whom
Dudley had left behind.




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.

No need, indeed, to tell this ruffian what would happen.  At that
moment the thought of what was in store for him was uppermost in his
brain.  His teeth grated again in a manner which made Dudley's blood
run cold.  He strove frantically to free his hands, and then, as if
determined to make one more effort, he gave vent to a third shout,
his voice rolling across the pampas.  Almost instantly there came an
answering call, one of those long hallos so common with the gauchos.
It was repeated again and again, and then, as Dudley turned pale and
swung round to face the direction from which the calls came, some
twenty horsemen came into view, galloping madly towards them across
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.

"Harold, ahoy!  We have a strong force of gauchos with us, and have
surrounded the ruffians lying in the forest.  Shoot any who happen to
pass your way.  We are closing up all round them."

From the depths of the forest there came now a commotion.  Men called
to one another, for as yet the position was not understood.  But many
of the ruffians understood English, and some had overheard Mr.
Blunt's hail.  They were surrounded.  While they had no notion of
such a thing, and indeed thought it impossible, the enemy had ridden
all round them.  Each must fight for himself.

They gave up all attempt to capture the small party who had withstood
them so long, gave up all thought of combination, and promptly bolted
like hares in all directions, the majority, however, rushing for the
clearing where their horses were picketed.

"Wait till you see them clearly, and then bring them down," said
Dudley sternly.  "Mind, not a shot till they are close.  We must take
them by surprise."

The ambush into which the rascally gauchos fell was in fact such a
surprise that many of them promptly threw up their hands and were
secured.  Half a dozen were killed at the first volley, and three
others, who attempted to run, shared the same fate.  For the honest
fellows who were in Mr. Blunt's employ had no sympathy for such
ruffians.  On the pampas, where there was an entire absence of police
or of any protective force, men had to fend for themselves, and
robbers had to be dealt with severely.

"Place the prisoners all together, and set a guard over them,"
commanded Dudley, when it was seen that no more were coming their
way.  "Pietro, just count them, and let me know how many we have
taken."

"Thirty-two, señor," came the answer, as the gaucho rapidly totalled
the robbers who had been captured, and returned to the young
manager's side.  "A good haul, señor, and one which will put a stop
to other bands attempting the same robberies.  Thirty-two, and
seventy-three horses."

"Amongst which will be the mounts they captured from my little
escort.  Now, we'll give our friends a hail."

Sharp reports had meanwhile been heard from different parts of the
forest, sometimes three or four coming close together, while the
majority were solitary shots, fired at some fleeing figure.  There
were shouts, too, and an occasional cry of pain.

"Ahoy there!  Harold!  Mr. Blunt!"

Dudley shouted at the pitch of his lungs, and very soon his employer
and Harold appeared on the scene, their men straggling in behind
them, two of the fine fellows carrying Pepito in their arms.

"Thirty-two prisoners, you say?" cried Mr. Blunt, casting a withering
glance at the robbers, and then one of pride at his men.  "Now, let
us count them, for we want to be sure that none have escaped.  Harold
reports that five were killed in the neighborhood of the fort, so
that thirty-seven are accounted for.  How many were shot here?"

"Nine in all," came the answer.

"Then we have dealt with forty-six, and with the ruffian you so
gallantly brought us, Dudley, we have accounted for forty-seven.
Thirteen have escaped, and I have no doubt are now running for their
lives through this forest.  Well, let them go.  Their tale will help
to frighten others bent on a lawless life.  And now to return to the
estancia.  Dudley, you will take Pietro and ten men, and will make
for the house occupied by that rascally Antonio.  Take possession of
it, seize all people there, and keep a guard over any papers you may
come upon.  The remainder will escort the prisoners back to the
estancia, where they will be kept till I can obtain a judge from the
settlements.  One of the rascals I could have dealt with, but I
cannot hang so many on my own authority."

Resting in the clearing till the men had had a meal, the party
divided again, Dudley and his escort riding to Antonio's house, which
they seized without opposition.  The prisoners taken in the action
were mounted on the captured horses, their legs secured beneath the
bodies of the animals, and their hands lashed firmly.  Then the
horses were roped in a long line, and once more took the track
leading into the forest.  A pile of arms and saddlery was left
behind, to be fetched on a future occasion.

Two weeks later the robbers who had been captured were placed on
trial at Mr. Blunt's estancia, and some ten of their number, against
whom previous acts of violence could be proved, were hanged by order
of the authorities.  The remainder were sent down to Buenos Ayres,
there to work in the prisons.  As for Antonio, he was hanged before
all his following, as a warning to those who were to be retained as
prisoners.

"And now we shall be able to live peacefully," said Mr. Blunt a week
later, when all the prisoners had been removed, and matters had
settled down at the estancia.  "There will be no more raids from the
direction of the forest, for, thanks to Dudley, and to you too,
Harold, both Indians and robbers have had a severe lesson.  I have
news for you both.  Guess what it is.

"Then I will tell you," he went on, seeing that they only shook their
heads.  "I have need of a second manager, for I have purchased the
whole of the estancia owned by Antonio Sarvisti.  It is as large as
this ranch, and needs an experienced man.  Dudley Compton is the man
I have selected."

The news was almost too good to be believed.  Dudley had had visions
of managing a ranch some day far in the future, and perhaps even of
possessing one when he had accumulated sufficient money.  And now----

"It is as large as this," said Mr. Blunt, "and you will start with an
ample stock of cattle.  You will be in complete control of the place,
and will merely report to me on occasion.  So that you may not be too
much alone, I will build a house close to the borders of the forest,
through which paths shall be cut.  There Harold and I will take up
our residence.  That is, if our young friend cares to remain and
accept the post of manager on this estancia."

"Would he accept it?"  Harold's eyes were shining brightly.  There
was a suspicious twitch about the corners of his mouth as he blurted
out an acceptance.

"Rather!" he said.  "That would be jolly!  We shall still continue
the same happy family."

Little remains to be told of the doings of Dudley Compton and his
friends.  In three years the estancia which he managed had become a
model establishment, which commanded the admiration of the
neighboring owners.  But there was one great defect.  Dudley was
lonely.  He was a long ride from Mr. Blunt and Harold, and at nights
the hours hung heavy on his hands.  Need the reader be surprised to
hear that our hero was more than interested in the arrival of Mr.
Blunt's daughter, that his visits to his old employer became
noticeably frequent, and that when some months had gone by he was
able to persuade the young lady who had arrived that his own little
house on the neighboring ranch was comfortable?  The two young people
were married within a year, the gauchos from far and near collecting
together to cheer them and drink their health.  And in due time, as
the years rolled by, and age began to tell on Mr. Blunt, his two
young managers became partners on the ranches.  To this day they are
there, white-haired and somewhat stiff and aged.  But that firm
friendship, commenced when at school and renewed after a painful
break, still exists between them.  The wide, rolling plains have been
their home ever since those early days when first they made the
acquaintance of the Roughriders of the Pampas.









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