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Silent Rifleman: A Tale of the Texan Prairies

<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> THE BELEAGUERED CAMP. "Now I will post a sentinel on yon hillock, and then we will pass the day as easily as we can. I and my fellows will lay poor Sergeant Davis in the earth, which, if it be not consecrated, will at least shield him from the ravening wolf and the loathsome vulture." The sabres of his dragoons, and an axe or two, which had been brought with them as part of the camp equipments, sufficed to scoop out a little hollow in the rich soil of the moist basin, hard by the streamlet's bed, and in it, wrapped in his watch-cloak, with his plumed shako on his head, and his good sword on his thigh, all that was earthly of the gallant veteran was laid to take its long sleep. Gordon secured his telescope, and, mounting a steep hill, surveyed the country, expecting to see the Partisan. All at once he exclaimed in a full, manly, and clear tone: "Julia, huzza! huzza! He is here—come forth and greet him. The Partisan is here already." And just as the highly-bred brown horse bore him up the low bank from the rivulet's bed, she came out quickly from the little tent with a warm flush on her soft cheeks and a bright light in her clear blue eye, and a fleet step, and an out-stretched hand, which showed that the joy which she manifested at his coming was from the heart, sincere and earnest. "Oh!" she cried, "Major Delacroix!" and her sweet low voice faltered as she spoke, as if she were on the point of bursting into tears, "how glad, how very glad I am to see you." "Too glad, I am afraid, dear lady," answered the gallant soldier, bowing almost to the saddle bow, "too glad, I am afraid; for your pleasure almost looks as if you thought I had deserted you." "Oh! no, indeed—indeed!" she answered, clapping her hands together in the intensity of her earnestness; "I knew that you would die a thousand deaths before you would desert me—before you would desert, I mean," she added, with some slight embarrassment, "any woman in distress or danger." "You need not have modified your first expression, lady," replied the Partisan, quietly; "as for dying a thousand deaths, I cannot say for that, but certainly so far as risking the one life I do possess, I would do that for you, willingly." Julia Gordon was a high-minded, artless, innocent woman, if ever such an one breathed the breath of life; but still she was a woman. She perceived at once that she had struck and fascinated the wild Partisan at first sight, and though she would not for the universe have intentionally caused him a single pang, she did unconsciously encourage him, and lead him on to wilder and more wandering fancies than he had ever entertained before. "You flatter me, fair lady," he replied, with a smile, as he dismounted from his good horse; "and flattery from such lips as yours were <ins title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'perillous'">perilous</ins>, indeed, to a younger man than I, and to one alienated from the hopes, the wishes, the delights of civilized society. But let us go in to your tent," he continued, "and you shall bestow upon me your hospitality to-day, in requital of the poor meal I set before you on the other side of the Bravo." 15 When the repast was ended, and coffee set before them, he produced his pipe, and filling it with his favourite mixture of tobacco, applied himself for a few minutes to smoking silently, Gordon following his example, and Julia awaiting patiently the relation, which, with the true woman's instinct, she foresaw to be close at hand. "Now then, lieutenant, since we are about to start, it were, perhaps, as well that we should determine whither." "Whither," exclaimed Gordon, starting, and looking very anxiously in the old soldier's face. "I thought that had been determined long ago. I thought we were in full route for Taylor's camp before Monterey." "It is impossible," replied the Partisan. "I did hope at first to effect it, but the hope was delusive—the thing is a sheer impossibility. We are in the midst of out-laying parties of regulars and, what is worse yet, of guerrillas; and, worst of all, of these accursed <ins title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'Camanches'">Comanches</ins>." "And to return?" asked Gordon. "Is equally impossible." "What then? For the love of Heaven, speak," cried the young husband, actually trembling with the violence of his anxiety and apprehension. "It is impossible for a party, at once too strong to avoid discovery, and too weak to resist an enemy, to push on to Monterey, even if we had not a lady with us. I could, myself, run the gauntlet thither, and arrive in safety, though even that is doubtful. You, or she, at least, must remain in concealment until I can bring you such succour as will suffice to her safety." "Remain in concealment, here?" "Not here, exactly, nor yet very far distant." "Can it be done?" "I think it can, with safety—else had not named it." "And whence will you seek succour?" "When God and the fortunes of war shall send it. Perhaps not <ins title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'nigher'">higher</ins> than the general's camp—perhaps I may stumble on Jack Hays, or Walker, or McCulloch, or Gillespie's rangers. They are on the scout almost all the time, either in the van or rear of the army; and now I think it likely they will be down here away, with the intent to open our communication. God send that they may." "God send it so, indeed," replied Arthur Gordon, earnestly. "But what has led you so completely to alter your views and intentions?" "That which I have seen with my own eyes, or heard with my own ears, last night." "And what may that have been?" "Listen. I was awakened last night by the sound of a scuffle and a faint groan. Before I could get on my feet, however, I had the pleasure of seeing that scoundrel, whose life we spared in the morning—and a stupid thing we did in sparing it—lead his horse out of the circle and leap on his back. There was no use in awakening you, so I untethered Emperor as quickly as I could, and out in pursuit of him. For all the speed I could make, he had got full a half mile away on the open prairie before I was in the saddle; but I cared little enough for that, seeing that in a five miles' race, I knew well enough that I could make up such a gap as that, and overhaul him, too, without much trouble. But what did vex me, and set me to thinking, was, that instead of making the best of his way back over the ground we had traversed in the morning, he struck off here to the north-west, riding as straight as if he had been following a beaten track, without a sign of hesitation, or so much as looking behind him." "That was strange," said Gordon. "I soon found out whither he was bound, and I was thinking of taking a straight course for the rancho, at which I saw he was aiming, when all at once I heard a yell in the forest, scarcely three hundred yards ahead of me, and before I had time to think, out galloped forty or fifty red skins from the forest, and drove right across the open ground right down upon our runaway. He felt that16 he was lost, I think, as soon as he saw them, for he made but a very sorry race of it, wheeling and turning to and fro, as if he knew not whither to fly, and the consequence was that they ran him down in less than ten minutes, and that within less than a hundred yards of the brake which hid me. If I had just then had ten rangers with me, armed with good western rifles, they never would have served him as they did, nor would one of them got off scot free. But what could I do? I was but one against fifty, and I knew not how soon my own turn might come: so I had only to stand by and look on while they—" "Murdered him!" exclaimed Julia, covering both her eyes with her fair hands; "good God! how terrible!" "Burnt him alive, lady," said the Partisan, coolly. "Burnt him alive!" exclaimed Julia, whose hands had dropped from before her eyes into her lap at the first words of his reply. "Burnt him alive, and before your eyes!" "Before my eyes, lady. Not a prayer, not a shriek, not a groan of the wretched devil escaped my ears, and the smell of his roasting flesh sickened and almost choked me," cried the Partisan. "And why, why did you hold back?" exclaimed Julia, wildly catching him by the arm, "why did you not rush upon them?" "I could but have died with him." "Then should you have died with him," she cried, scarce knowing what she said. "Not to have done so, is not like the man I have heard you called—not like the man I took you for." "Hush, Julia, hush!" cried her husband, springing to his feet. "Be silent, child, if you cannot speak reason—" But Delacroix interrupted him, speaking very slowly, and with an inexpressibly mournful intonation of voice. "Let her go on," he said. "It was for her sake I did it, and most meet it is that she should pay me for it with ingratitude. Who ever served or loved a woman and met with other guerdon for his services? I was a fool—I am a fool, but I did not expect this at her hands." He hung down his bold head as he spoke, and one or two big tears, the first he had shed for years, rolled down his swarthy cheeks. "And now bid your men strike the tent, and pack just what baggage your lady cannot spare. Pack it on the dragoon horse, whose saddle is left empty by that murderer's deed, who has dearly rued it. The rest with the tent and pontoon must be abandoned, and the mules that bore them must be slain. Let them hide everything in the chaparral; the sun will have set within an hour. Meanwhile, I will go forth and see that the coast is clear." "But whither, whither are you about to lead us?" inquired Gordon, anxiously. "If you trust me you will follow me, lieutenant, whithersoever I lead you. If not, you will not follow me at all, for if it be my intent to deceive you, I can do so by words as well as by actions. "Oh, Major Delacroix!" exclaimed Julia, who had recovered from her bewilderment, and was sensible of the error she had committed, "you are offended, you are angry with me, and justly—I have been most ungrateful." "Not angry, lady—not offended. A man cannot be angry with such a one as you, do what you will with him. I am disappointed, perhaps hurt, but certainly neither angry nor offended." "You must forgive me," she exclaimed, springing passionately forward, and catching his hand in both her own, "you must—you must forgive me. I knew not then, I know not even now, what it was I said—will you but forgive me?" "Surely I would, had I anything to forgive, sweet lady," he replied, with a grave, sad smile. "But I have nothing, unless it be," he added, with a low sigh, "my own folly. But a truce to this, we have indeed no time for parleying. Will you trust me and follow me? As we ride onward I will tell you whither." "To the world's end," answered the beautiful girl, clasping her hands and17 blushing crimson with the violence of her own emotions. "To the world's end, if you will not forgive me." "Now will you be so kind as to issue your orders to your men, lieutenant, and you, madam, to make your preparations for a ride which may extend through the night until day-break to-morrow?" He spoke so decidedly that there was no excuse for attempting to prolong the conversation, and Gordon left the little tent immediately in order to give his directions, while the Partisan lifted his rifle from the ground where he had deposited it on entering, and turned to follow the young officer without saying another word. But ere he had reached the entrance, Julia, who had been standing with down-cast eyes and a strange expression, half sad, half passionate on her beautiful features, sprang forward to intercept him, and again caught him by the arm. "What have I done," she cried, passionately, "what have I done that you thus spurn me—thus despise me?" "I, lady!" and he gazed at her in blank astonishment; "I despise you?" "Yes, yes, miserable me, and I deserve it all, aye, more than all. Oh, God! oh, God! I shall go mad. What shall I do to win your forgiveness?" "I have said, madam," he replied, mastering himself and retaining his self-composure with a mighty effort, "that I had nothing to forgive. But now it is my turn to ask," and his voice assumed a deeper tone of feeling, and his whole manner showed an intenser meaning, "will you spare me? You know what I mean, lady—all women know their power, and, I suppose, all abuse it. But as I have endeavoured to serve you truly, as I intend to do to the end—as I am resolved to die for you—will you spare me, I say? Spare me my self-respect, my consciousness of right, nay manhood, my repose of soul, my honour. If you will, lady, I forgive, I bless you. If not—if not, tremble, I say, tremble, not at the thought of my vengeance, but of your own remorse. Think of this, lady, and fare you well. We speak no more alone together—no more, forever!" And he flung her hand, which he had held tightly clasped in his own while he spoke, away from him contemptuously, half indignantly, turned on his heel and left her. She gazed on him for a moment wistfully, and then sank down upon the bearskin on which he had been sitting, buried her face in the fur, and wept bitterly, as might be seen from the convulsive sobs which shook her whole frame as she lay prostrate in her desperate sorrow. Within an hour the Partisan returned to the camp which had been the scene of so much mental suffering and excitement to all the parties who had passed the last weary, long hours within its guarded precincts. But when he did return, he had fully mastered his composure, for he now fully understood his own feelings, and perceived the peril of indulging them. And he found all his comrades collected and self-possessed, at least in appearance, and prepared to set forth at a moment's notice. The horse of the unhappy sergeant had been equipped, instead of his own demipique, with the pack-saddle of the poor predestined mule, and stood, seemingly conscious of his degradation, loaded with such necessary baggage as could in no way be dispensed with. The appearance of the Partisan, and the first quick gesture of his hand, gave the signal; and all the men vaulted at once into their saddles. "All is safe!" he exclaimed, cheerfully. "To horse, to horse, and away!" And with the word, he laid his hand on the pummel of the brown charger's demipique, and, without setting his foot into the stirrup, sprang at one bound to his back. Then, after saying a few words in a low voice to Arthur, who communicated them in turn to one of the dragoons, he bowed to the lady, saying: "And now, if you are ready, we will proceed at once," and rode at an easy gait out of the gorge, followed by all the party. 18 The heart of Julia sank as she gazed around; and she felt that the least addition to the sense of dread and half superstitious awe which now beset her, would be too much for her powers of endurance. Yet, while she thought thus, another item was added—it was the sharp and sudden crack of two rifles, discharged, almost simultaneously, in the small amphitheatre from which they had just departed. She started in her saddle as if she had received a blow, and would have fallen from her seat had not her husband thrown his powerful arm around her, and supported her frame on the back of her palfrey. "It is nothing," he whispered; "it is nothing only the poor mules which we were compelled to shoot, as we could not bring them with us, and dared not leave them to follow, and, by following, betray us." "More blood!" cried Julia, bursting into a paroxysm of tears; "more blood! my God! when will this have an end?" "You should have thought of that Julia," replied the young soldier, sharply and bitterly, "before you married a soldier. That done, such thoughts are too late." "Alas, alas! they are, indeed, too late." "And do you cry alas! for that, false girl?" exclaimed Gordon, in so loud a tone that his words reached the ears of the Partisan, who instantly reined back his horse, and laying his hand kindly on the young man's arm, said, in a low voice: "Oh, peace, peace, for shame! Consider what she has borne, what she has yet to bear—and all for you." "I wish I were in my grave," she answered, raising her mild, soft eyes to meet his. "I never shall be happy more till I lie in it." "Nay, lady, speak not thus," returned the veteran, warmly. "Death, at the best, is a dread mystery. In God's good time, we must all come to that; to His good wisdom, therefore, let us leave it. And, oh, by no levity or petulance of ours, let us call down His anger on our heads. But, I assure you, it is no gloomy place, no fearful or dark abiding-place, that I hope to conduct you, but to a sort of fairy bower, inhabited," he added, assuming a tone of gayety which he perhaps scarcely felt "by what I thought, till I met your blue eyes, Mistress Gordon, the loveliest woman I e'er looked upon." Despite herself, Julia Gordon was interested and amused, and yielding, womanlike to the immediate impulse, she cried: "What! a fairy bower, and a fair woman, in this howling wilderness?" "Aye, lady, even so! and thereby hangs a tale, which, as you will be thrown, I think, upon her hospitality, and as it may beguile the tediousness of our night-march, I will relate to you, if you choose to hear it." "Oh, tell it, by all means, Partisan," cried Gordon, eager to atone for his late petulance, and to divert his wife's apprehension; "I hope it is a love tale." "'Cato's a proper person'" answered Delacroix, laughing. "You see I quote, lieutenant. But here goes my story. "It was a little better than a year ago," he began, "that I first visited this part of the country, which I know—every pass, glen, and pond, and rivulet of it—as if it were my own garden. All then was violence, and fierce, irregular strife, and vengeful indiscriminate warfare and confusion. "I was alone on this good horse which I now ride, and armed as you now see me. At times I would join this or that band of rangers, when on some actual service which promised excitement and the chance of action, I for the most part scouted by myself. "On this occasion, however, I had a special duty to perform, being charged with dispatches from the general to the chief of the band, which will not name, nor otherwise designate, except as being ever the most daring and successful in the onslaught, although too often the most merciless in the moment of victory." "Well, it was a lovely summer's evening, as ever shone out of Heaven, when19 I passed through this belt of forest; not exactly here, or in this direction, for I came in farther to the southeastward, and approached the clearing which surrounds the plantation, whither we now are bound. When suddenly, as I rode along, following the track of the horse hoofs, which I could easily distinguish in the mossy greensward, and judging by many certain indications that I could not now be far behind them, though I heard nothing to denote their vicinity; when suddenly—I say, I caught the distant sounds of merriment, and revelry; the light cadences of the guitar, the merry laugh of girls, the deep rich voices of the male singers, in the harmonious Spanish tongue, and all the glee and anxiety of fandango. "I felt a momentary sense of pleasure, for I knew that I was in time, which I had feared might not be the case; and that the attack, which it was my mission to prevent or at least to render bloodless, had not as yet taken place. The next instant a sudden doubt, a great fear fell upon me. How could it be that I should be so close to the rancho and the band, of which I was in pursuit, yet closer, but unseen, unheard and unsuspected. I knew that not a moment must be lost. That even now the rangers must be stealing with ready arms upon their victims; that even now the doom of the gay lancers must be sealed, unless my presence should arrest it. I gave my good horse the spur, and throwing the rein upon his neck, galloped at the top of his speed along the intricate and mazy wood-track. "Never, in all my life, did I spur so hard; and never did a road seem so long, or so devious; nor was this the effect of imagination only; for I have since ascertained by actual inspection although the distance, as the bird flies from the spot, where I first heard the music, to the rancho whence it proceeded, is but a short mile, the road by which alone you can reach it, measures three at the least, winding it to and fro to avoid pathless brakes and deep barrancas, and is exceedingly deep and miry. "The sound of my horse's tramp, splashing through the deep clay, was already heard by the lancers, and heard, alas! by their ambushed foes, when I fear it spurred to accelerated action; when suddenly from the wood to my left, the shrill blast of the bugle rose piercingly upon the night air, and was answered by a second at a little distance. There was an instant's pause, breathless and awful as the lull that precedes the burst of a thunderstorm; and then a long loud shout burst out on all sides, and the quick running rattle of a hundred rifle-shots fired in quick succession. God! what a shriek succeeded! And then the clash of blades, and the blasphemies and yells of the charging Texans, and the deep oaths and dying groans of the slaughtered Spaniards and the howling of hounds and mastiffs; and, above all, piercing my very brain, the maddening screams of women pealed up in horrid dissonance to the peaceful heavens, which, in a moment afterward, were crimsoned with the glare of the rushing flames, making the twilight scenery of the calm forest lurid and ruddy as the fabulous groves of hell! "When I heard that tremendous uproar, and saw the outburst of that furious conflagration, I spurred my horse the faster, and at last, issuing from the forest, came upon such a scene of horror, blood and devastation, as I trust it may never be my fate to look upon again. "The rancho or country dwelling-house which had been attacked was of unusually large dimensions, consisting of many buildings, with barns, stables, cattle-folds, and out-houses of every kind. "Suddenly a pistol shot or two startled me, followed by a shout and the clashing of swords from a distant quarter of the garden. "I was still mounted, and with the speed of light I galloped toward the spot whence those sole sounds of human life proceeded. Across the smoothly-shaven lawn and luxuriant flowerbeds I drove my charger recklessly. I came up. I was yet in time! It was a small, low building of two rooms only, the inmost of which had windows reaching to the ground, secured with jalousies, and perfectly embowered by the rich leaves and vagrant tendrils of a hundred climbing parasites. 20 "And this lone bower, evidently the abode of some Spanish beauty, was now the last citadel of the hapless inhabitants, mercilessly attacked and desperately defended. It was fortunate for those within it that the Texans had discovered it from the court-yard, with which it communicated only by one door in a massive wall of stone—all its windows opening into the secluded quarter of the garden, which they had not as yet discovered. "From the court-yard, separated from the garden in which I stood by the high and massive wall I have named, the shouts and rush of armed men came clearly to my ears; and, by the English tongue, the wild oaths, and the bitter denunciating, I readily perceived that it was the band of whom I was in pursuit, and that they were forcing their way into the building, in despite of all opposition. Still it was evident to me, by the silence which prevailed in the inner room—opposite to the casements of which I stood—that this last sanctum was yet unforced, though the rapid discharge of pistol and rifle shots, and the clash of rapier and bowie-knife at the door, announced that its security was menaced, and could not certainly be maintained many minutes longer. "There was not a second to be lost. Springing down from my horse, with one pistol in my left hand, a second in my belt, my good broad-sword in my right hand, and my wood-knife between my teeth, I drove the frail jalousies asunder with one blow of my foot, and stood the next moment in the scene of terror. And God of mercy! what a scene that was! Should I live centuries I never can forget it. It was but a second that I gazed around me; yet in that fleeting second I took in more minute details than I could recount to you in an hour. "The chamber was the sleeping-room of some young female. Yet this spot was already the abode of death—might even be the scene of outrage worse than death. "On the low, virgin bed was stretched—where it had been hastily deposited by the alarmed bearers—the lifeless corpse of an old man—an old Spanish gentleman. A small, round, livid hole in the centre of his forehead, surrounded by a discoloured spot, and the blood which had flowed from the back of his head and deluged all the cambric pillow-covers, showed plainly that he had fallen by the unnerring missile of a Texan rifle. I learned afterward that he was killed, in the very act of offering hospitality, by the first shot discharged that day, on his own threshold; and I do not regret that the perpetrator of the atrocious deed fell, that same day, by my hand and this good weapon. "But to proceed. On the floor, close to the window by which I made my entrance, lay stretched an aged woman, the wife apparently of him who slept unconscious—happy that he was unconscious—of the horrors which surrounded him. She, too, had been struck down as I judged, not a moment before I entered, by a chance bullet; for she still breathed a little, although life was fast ebbing from her veins in spite of the efforts of the loveliest girl my eyes had then looked upon, who knelt beside her, seemingly unaware of the fierce uproar which was raging, nearer and nearer every moment, in the adjoining apartment; the door of which stood wide open, allowing the horrid din, the hideous imprecations, and the blue sulphurous smoke of the death-shots, which rang incessantly without, to force their way, unhindered, into that quiet chamber. "I said that one quick glance showed me all this, and, to truth, I had not leisure for a second, for I was not well within the chamber when a tall young Spaniard staggered back to the threshold of the door, and, discharging a pistol at the Texans while in the very act of dropping, fell headlong on the floor upon his back, his left hand, which still grasped the yet smoking pistol, striking the ground within a few inches of the feet of that fair girl. She started at the dreadful interruption, and, for the first time becoming aware of my presence, uttered a long wild shriek; and, believing that her hour had come, arose to her feet with an effort, and laying her hand on her bosom, said, in a low, sweet voice, in the Spanish tongue, 'Strike, if you will; but, in the name of the most Holy Virgin, harm not an orphaned virgin!' 21 "Alarmed by her cry, a young gentleman richly dressed, who was defending the door, with rapier and dagger, with all the valour of despair, and whose back had been turned toward us, looked around quickly, and as he did so received a sharp wound in the breast from a Texan knife. The murderous weapon was raised to repeat the blow, when I seized him violently by the shoulder, cast him back into the middle of the room, crying, 'Amigo,' and thrust myself into his place, confronting alone the infuriate assailants. "The men knew me in an instant, but their blood was up, moreover; and several of them to the intoxication of heated passions and unbridled license had added the intoxication of wine; quantities of which had been found on the premises, and had been drunk without stint. "It was in vain that I called on them to hold, and demanded their captain. My answer was, that they were all captains there alike, and would take no command from any, coupled to an insolent warning to take myself out of harm's way if I were wise, before worse should come of it. "A moment or two before he reached the spot, he was informed of my coming, and of the resistance I had met from his men. There was blood on his face, on his hands, on the blade of his sabre, which he bore still unsheathed. But so soon as his eye fell upon the group opposing me, and saw that I was fighting on the defensive, it seemed positively to flash fire—his white cheek gleamed with a red unnatural hectic—and he actually gnashed his teeth with rage. 'Rascals! Dogs! Mutineers!' he shouted. 'Do you dare to resist an officer? Down with them, Pierre; down with the dogs! Spare them no longer! Give them the steel,' and suiting the action to the word, as the hindmost man of the party, turned aghast at finding himself as it were between two fires, he threw himself upon him, and ran his sword through his body. The rest flung down their arms, and with some difficulty I obtained their grace, for he would hear at first of nothing but drum-head, court-martial, and immediate execution. "And now, my tale is told. That bower is the sole relic of a once rich and noble residence—that fair, pale girl is, with the sole exception of her brother, who was the wounded youth I mentioned, the last scion of a race as noble as ever came from the shores of old Castile." "But, tell me," exclaimed Julia, who had listened rather impatiently to the late discussion—"her brother!—what became of her brother who was wounded—whom you saved?" "What could become of him? He pulled his sombrero over his eyes, buckled his father's sword to his side, and his good spurs to his heel, took lance and lasso, backed his best horse, and never since has given quarter to a man who speaks with an English tongue. I would not bet a dollar that he would spare my life, if I fell into his hands in action." "And where is he now, or how engaged?" asked Gordon. "Since Romano Fallon's troop has been broken up, he is Padre Taranta's right hand man. He is the most dangerous enemy America now has in all Mexico." "And it is to his sister's dwelling that you are leading me?" asked Julia, in astonishment. "Even so, lady. If once you cross her threshold, you are safe against all the force of Mexico, until such time as we can bring you succour, or a flag under which you may enter the lines." <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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