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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Roughriders of the Pampas, 
by Captain F. S. Brereton
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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 65656 ***</div>

<p><br /><br /></p>

<p class="capcenter">
<a id="img-front"></a>
<br />
<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-front.jpg" alt="DUDLEY ESCAPES WITH HIS PRISONER" />
<br />
DUDLEY ESCAPES WITH HIS PRISONER
</p>

<h1>
<br /><br />
  Roughriders of the Pampas<br />
</h1>

<p class="t2">
  A Tale of Ranch Life in South America<br />
</p>

<p><br /></p>

<p class="t3b">
  By<br />
</p>

<p class="t2">
  Captain F. S. Brereton<br />
</p>

<p class="t4">
  Author of "How Canada Was Won," "With Wolseley to Kumasi,"<br />
  "Jones of the 64th," "With Roberts to Candahar,"<br />
  "Roger the Bold," etc., etc.<br />
</p>

<p><br /><br /></p>

<p class="t3">
  Illustrated by<br />
  Stanley L. Wood<br />
</p>

<p><br /><br /></p>

<p class="t3">
  H. M. Caldwell Co., Publishers<br />
  New York and Boston<br />
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p class="t4">
  <i>Copyright, 1908</i><br />
  BY H. M. CALDWELL Co.<br />
</p>

<p class="t4">
  <i>Published simultaneously in the United States, Great Britain,<br />
  Canada, and British Possessions</i><br />
</p>

<p class="t4">
  Electrotyped and Printed at<br />
  THE COLONIAL PRESS:<br />
  C. H. Simonds &amp; Co., Boston, U.S.A.<br />
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p class="t3b">
  Contents<br />
</p>

<p class="noindent">
  CHAPTER<br />
</p>

<p class="noindent">
  I. <a href="#chap01">Outward Bound</a><br />
  II. <a href="#chap02">A Confidential Friend</a><br />
  III. <a href="#chap03">The Home on the Pampas</a><br />
  IV. <a href="#chap04">An English Gringo</a><br />
  V. <a href="#chap05">Showing his Mettle</a><br />
  VI. <a href="#chap06">Our on the Rancho</a><br />
  VII. <a href="#chap07">An Indian Invasion</a><br />
  VIII. <a href="#chap08">Dudley Leads the Gauchos</a><br />
  IX. <a href="#chap09">Fighting the Enemy</a><br />
  X. <a href="#chap10">An Important Discussion</a><br />
  XI. <a href="#chap11">White Brigands</a><br />
  XII. <a href="#chap12">An Unexpected Meeting</a><br />
  XIII. <a href="#chap13">In a Tight Corner</a><br />
  XIV. <a href="#chap14">Back to the Rancho</a><br />
  XV. <a href="#chap15">Dudley Makes a Discovery</a><br />
  XVI. <a href="#chap16">Hemmed in on Every Side</a><br />
  XVII. <a href="#chap17">Fighting in the Forest</a><br />
  XVIII. <a href="#chap18">A Dash for the Pampas</a><br />
  XIX. <a href="#chap19">Antonio Sarvisti is Surprised</a><br />
  XX. <a href="#chap20">Brought to Book</a><br />
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p class="t3b">
List of Illustrations
</p>

<p><br /></p>

<p class="noindent">
<a href="#img-front">Dudley Escapes with his Prisoner</a> (<i>See</i> <a href="#p342">page 342</a>) <i>Frontispiece</i>
</p>

<p class="noindent">
<a href="#img-068">"Its hoofs fouled the top, and in a second horse and
man went headlong"</a>
</p>

<p class="noindent">
<a href="#img-117">"All the while the gaucho clung like a leech to it"</a>
</p>

<p class="noindent">
<a href="#img-158">"Dudley's revolver snapped sharply"</a>
</p>

<p class="noindent">
<a href="#img-202">"Dudley looked incredulously at the stranger, and
then uttered a cry of astonishment"</a>
</p>

<p class="noindent">
<a href="#img-269">"He stood to his full height on the saddle, one hand
over his eyes to shade them from the light"</a>
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap01"></a></p>

<p class="t2">
Roughriders of the Pampas
</p>

<p><br /><br /></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER I
<br /><br />
OUTWARD BOUND
</h3>

<p>
"One moment please, steward!"
</p>

<p>
"Yes, sir."
</p>

<p>
"Bring a little soup and a piece of bread at once,
please."
</p>

<p>
"Soup, sir.  Yes, sir."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
"Sir?"
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Like it?" asked the stranger shortly.
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Wondering who I am, eh?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Yes, sir," he admitted, "I was.  You see&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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.'"
</p>

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

<p>
"Yes, undoubtedly, but accustomed to use another
language."
</p>

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

<p>
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?
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"I shall be in a month, sir."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"And your name?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

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

<p>
"Sometimes," he admitted guiltily.  "Not very
often."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"Pardon!" demanded Dudley.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"Expelled!  Sent away from the school!  Gracious!
For what?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap02"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER II
<br /><br />
A CONFIDENTIAL FRIEND
</h3>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"Then you had friends?" asked Mr. Blunt.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"Humph!  You know that now.  Did you know it
then?  Did you shield him?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"This is your money?" he asked.  "You are sure
that it is yours?"
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"His name?" the headmaster had demanded icily.
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
Dudley finished his portion of the tale while
Mr. Blunt listened attentively.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap03"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER III
<br /><br />
THE HOME ON THE PAMPAS
</h3>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

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

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

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
He nodded coolly as the young fellow swam to his
side and gripped the bows.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"There is no fear of his getting a chill out in these
waters," cried the little man, blowing with his
exertions.  "Gentlemen&mdash;&mdash;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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;in his own heart he knows&mdash;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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
Dudley shot up suddenly, ashamed of the emotion
he had shown.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
Would he come?  Would Dudley accept a post than
which he could wish for nothing better?
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"<i>Bueno</i>!  He has ridden, but he is a gringo for all
that," exclaimed one of the gauchos.  "What is this
tale of the master's?"
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"And I will return the gift," came the answer.  "I
know nothing for sure, mark you, <i>amigo</i>, but the
young señor is a good fellow, and he will try to win
for me.  <i>Bueno!</i>  We will set to work to pack the
animals."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap04"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER IV
<br /><br />
AN ENGLISH GRINGO
</h3>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Steady, boy!" he cried.  "Get yourself together.
Up!  Over!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p class="capcenter">
<a id="img-068"></a>
<br />
<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-068.jpg" alt="&quot;ITS HOOFS FOULED THE TOP, AND IN A SECOND HORSE AND MAN WENT HEADLONG&quot;" />
<br />
&quot;ITS HOOFS FOULED THE TOP, <br />
AND IN A SECOND HORSE AND MAN WENT HEADLONG&quot;
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"<i>Buenos</i>, 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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap05"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER V
<br /><br />
SHOWING HIS METTLE
</h3>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"<i>Bueno</i>!  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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
"I will shoot first for that reason," came the answer.
"You shall shoot at the flying target before I make the
attempt, and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
"Yes, I am listening."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Well and good.  Then shoot," exclaimed Pietro,
his eyes flashing, with excitement.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
Dudley nodded his thanks.  "Now, Pietro," he
shouted, "cast!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Ready, señor?" shouted Pietro.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Yes, it was arranged," he shouted.  "You and
Pietro agreed to cheat."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap06"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER VI
<br /><br />
OUT ON THE RANCHO
</h3>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"But supposing branded animals stray?" asked
Dudley.  "What happens to them?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Again!" said Mr. Blunt quietly.  "Give them
another charge, lad."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

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

<p>
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&mdash;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.
</p>

<p>
"Come away.  Slip back again and mount."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Walk!" whispered his employer.  "Hush!  Not a
sound."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Are you ready for a fast ride?" he asked shortly.
</p>

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

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
"Alone, sir?"
</p>

<p>
"Yes, alone."
</p>

<p>
"And you, sir?"
</p>

<p>
"Alone, I said," came the curt answer.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap07"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER VII
<br /><br />
AN INDIAN INVASION
</h3>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"<i>Bueno</i>!  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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
"Now let go the heels."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p class="capcenter">
<a id="img-117"></a>
<br />
<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-117.jpg" alt="&quot;ALL THE WHILE THE GAUCHO CLUNG LIKE A LEECH TO IT&quot;" />
<br />
&quot;ALL THE WHILE THE GAUCHO CLUNG LIKE A LEECH TO IT&quot;
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap08"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER VIII
<br /><br />
DUDLEY LEADS THE GAUCHOS
</h3>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
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&mdash;&mdash;
</p>

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

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
"And then?  Yes?" asked Dudley.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"You dropped them?  How?"
</p>

<p>
Dudley was amazed, for he had seen none of his
friends.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"<i>Bueno</i>, 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."
</p>

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

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

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

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

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"While in any case our master is a heavy loser."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

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

<p>
"They are there now, señor.  The gauchos surround them."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
Dudley reined in his horse and sat upright, listening.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

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

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;he and his men get a hiding."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"Something unpleasant, I imagine," smiled Dudley.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap09"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER IX
<br /><br />
FIGHTING THE ENEMY
</h3>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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!
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
"Señor!"
</p>

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

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

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

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

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

<p>
"Forty-eight, señor," came the swift correction
from Pietro.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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.  <i>Bueno</i>!  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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

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

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p class="capcenter">
<a id="img-158"></a>
<br />
<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-158.jpg" alt="&quot;&quot;DUDLEY'S REVOLVER SNAPPED SHARPLY&quot;&quot;" />
<br />
&quot;&quot;DUDLEY'S REVOLVER SNAPPED SHARPLY&quot;&quot;
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
"The cattle have removed that danger."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
Dudley admitted the fact with heightened color.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"What else?" demanded Mr. Blunt.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"And then?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap10"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER X
<br /><br />
AN IMPORTANT DISCUSSION
</h3>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

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

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

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

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

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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&mdash;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.
</p>

<p>
"This proposition," he said, "comes from the
young señor?"
</p>

<p>
"It does.  I have agreed to the plan and have been
thinking out the details."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"Blunt?" he said.  "That's an Englishman.  Who
is he?"
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
The ruffian touched his knife significantly.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap11"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER XI
<br /><br />
WHITE BRIGANDS
</h3>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"Hardly!" came the cautious answer.
</p>

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

<p>
"'Can yer ride?' asks the chap with the beard.
</p>

<p>
"'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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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!"
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Who is he?" he asked.  "And where is he going?"
</p>

<p>
"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'."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;  Goodness, it means murder!  The fellow
said as much.  They will kill this Englishman and
take all that he has got."
</p>

<p>
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?
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p class="capcenter">
<a id="img-202"></a>
<br />
<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-202.jpg" alt="&quot;DUDLEY LOOKED INCREDULOUSLY AT THE STRANGER, AND THEN UTTERED A CRY OF ASTONISHMENT&quot;" />
<br />
&quot;DUDLEY LOOKED INCREDULOUSLY AT THE STRANGER, <br />
AND THEN UTTERED A CRY OF ASTONISHMENT&quot;
</p>

<p>
"Joyce!  You here!  This is strange!"
</p>

<p>
"Dudley!  Dudley Compton!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap12"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER XII
<br /><br />
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
</h3>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"You are Mr. Blunt?" he asked.
</p>

<p>
"I am, my lad."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

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

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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&mdash;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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

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

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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!
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
He crept a pace nearer to our hero and touched his
leg.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"With all my heart," came the swift answer.
"You have made up for all by behaving like a decent
fellow."
</p>

<p>
"Hear, hear!  Hear, hear!" came from Mr. Blunt.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"One rascal the less," said Mr. Blunt coolly, lifting
his head to look over the rail.  "He at least will
not trouble us again."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"Ah!  Is that so?  Tell me more, lad."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"Robbing!  That is a mild term.  Shooting them
is more correct."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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&mdash;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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap13"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER XIII
<br /><br />
IN A TIGHT CORNER
</h3>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"We have them at last, the dogs," he shouted.
"They were in the stern.  Follow!  Cut the lubbers
to pieces."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
Meanwhile those who had swarmed aboard the boat
which they had been so feverishly following were at
a loss to understand what had happened.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Shoot when you see them," he shouted.  "They
must be lying on the deck.  Give them a volley,
comrades."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Empty!" he shouted a moment or two later.
"Not a soul in here.  Where are the pretty birds?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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&mdash;for
such desperadoes think little of losses,&mdash;they had
failed in their enterprise.
</p>

<p>
The cheer which the trio aboard the escaping vessel
gave as they sailed away must have been maddening
to the ruffians.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap14"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER XIV
<br /><br />
BACK TO THE RANCHO
</h3>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
"You'll come, old chap," chimed in Dudley.
</p>

<p>
"I will.  It will be ripping."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
A brilliant sun greeted the trio as they came on
deck on the following morning.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"'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."
</p>

<p>
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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
Harold shook his head vigorously.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
Indeed, that same evening saw them sailing up the
river, their old crew having come aboard.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap15"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER XV
<br /><br />
DUDLEY MAKES A DISCOVERY
</h3>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Roast deer, grilled bones, bread and coffee,"
shouted Harold at length, appearing before Dudley
in his shirt sleeves. "Dinner is ready and waiting."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"The two hours is ended.  The señor takes the
guard."
</p>

<p>
The tall figure of Pepito bent over our hero, and
with a start he was awake.
</p>

<p>
"Two hours gone!" he exclaimed, as he rubbed
his eyes.  "Why, I lay down only a minute ago!
There is some mistake."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
A week later the little cavalcade was returning to
the estancia, having paid the last of their visits.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"Of whom Mr. Blunt is one, Harold.  Yes, I too
thought the man queer.  We will ask Pepito about
him."
</p>

<p>
A call brought the gaucho cantering up at once, and
in a minute he was ambling along beside our hero.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"Then call him," was the prompt answer.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
Pepito turned to the dusky gaucho and questioned
him closely.  Then he swung round to his young
leader and shrugged his shoulders.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
He broke off suddenly, and pulled in his horse with
a jerk.
</p>

<p>
"You think?  Yes?" demanded Harold eagerly,
for he too had gained an unfavorable impression of
their last host.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
"As Pepito's friend seems to believe."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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?
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"That is my intention," was the short answer.
"About turn!"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"Then you return and pay a second visit?"
</p>

<p>
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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p class="capcenter">
<a id="img-269"></a>
<br />
<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-269.jpg" alt="&quot;HE STOOD TO HIS FULL HEIGHT ON THE SADDLE, ONE HAND OVER HIS EYES TO SHADE THEM FROM THE LIGHT&quot;" />
<br />
&quot;HE STOOD TO HIS FULL HEIGHT ON THE SADDLE, <br />
ONE HAND OVER HIS EYES TO SHADE THEM FROM THE LIGHT&quot;
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"As daylight," whispered Harold.
</p>

<p>
"The señor's words leave no room for doubt.  We
divide now?"
</p>

<p>
"At once," answered Dudley.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap16"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER XVI
<br /><br />
HEMMED IN ON EVERY SIDE
</h3>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;yes, there is Pepito and his
following."
</p>

<p>
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?
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"And supposing you find evidence that this fellow
is a ruffian," asked Harold thoughtfully, "will
you&mdash;&mdash;?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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, <i>amico</i>."
</p>

<p>
A grunt from his companion told this leader that
the man heard and assented.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"They are in position, señor.  They await your
whistle."
</p>

<p>
"And you gave them strict orders to do as I
said?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Preserve us!" he murmured with quivering lips.
"The man sees like a cat.  Señor, I am at your
mercy."
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;a bigger share, mind you,
<i>amico</i>,&mdash;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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
An answering signal was sent, and very soon, spurring
hard and galloping as fast as possible, Pepito
and his men arrived on the scene.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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&mdash;&mdash;
</p>

<p>
"Pepito," he whispered, "there is only one course.
Will the men support me?"
</p>

<p>
"Try them, señor," came the crisp answer.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"One to us, I think!" he heard someone exclaim
in low tones.  "Now for number two."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"So let all robbers die," he murmured, as he
stooped over the man.  "We will speak to the others
in the same way."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"And then, señor?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
He crept back to Dudley's side with his tale, and
there for some few minutes lay at full length,
whispering to him.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"Clear, señor.  I do not understand," answered
Pepito.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;for that
I think he is&mdash;would raid the place with his ruffians,
and as likely as not kill our employer and those who
attempted to defend him."
</p>

<p>
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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
A minute later, indeed, he had called one of his
gauchos to his side, where he repeated the orders
which his young leader gave.
</p>

<p>
"You will creep out into the forest and search for
a horse, <i>amigo</i>," 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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Fire!" he shouted.  "They are trying to move
through the forest.  Give them a volley."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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&mdash;a fact
which recurred time and again to Dudley,&mdash;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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap17"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER XVII
<br /><br />
FIGHTING IN THE FOREST
</h3>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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, <i>amico</i>?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
The very idea of such a thing caused the Italian
leader to grind his teeth.  But a moment's reflection
reassured him.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"Something else?  And that is something even
more important than his own skin?" exclaimed
Antonio with a sneer.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
He waited for a moment, while Antonio Sarvisti
ground his teeth and muttered beneath his breath.
</p>

<p>
"Worse than that!" he exclaimed with rising
anger.  "Why, have you nothing but croaks to give?
What is this other matter?"
</p>

<p>
"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, <i>amico</i>?
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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Pah!" he exclaimed beneath his breath.  "I shall
wait till this matter is settled, and then this Antonio
Sarvisti must look for another lieutenant."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"And what of the attack on the estancia?" his
lieutenant ventured to ask.  "You will make that at
once?"
</p>

<p>
"Not till these men are taken," was the short
answer.  "I have none to spare for a raid on the
estancia.  Wait a little, <i>amico</i>.  When the dawn comes
you will see that we shall be successful."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Ah!  Not frightened into surrender yet?" cried
Antonio, shaking his fist with rage.  "You shall see.
I will teach you when the morning comes."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"What food and ammunition have we?" asked
our hero suddenly.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"And water?" suddenly demanded Harold.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
"You!  It is madness!  You are in command, and
the defence depends on your being here.  You are
not serious!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
An exclamation came from either side of him,
showing clearly that Harold and Pepito knew well
what would be the result.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"They are simple, Pepito.  Two of the enemy were
killed?"
</p>

<p>
"Two, señor: one who sent his bullet into my thigh,
and the other whom our comrade settled."
</p>

<p>
"It is the first we have to deal with.  He lies a
matter of five yards outside our fort, I think?"
</p>

<p>
Pepito nodded emphatically, forgetting that the
darkness hid all movement.
</p>

<p>
"That is so, señor," he said eagerly.  "I know the
spot well.  It is perhaps less than five yards away.
What then?"
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;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?"
</p>

<p>
An exclamation broke from Pepito and Harold.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"Hush!  There is a movement.  I hear men creeping
in the forest!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Someone is moving, certainly," whispered Pepito.
"There, I heard the sounds.  They are coming
closer."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
A minute later a shrill whistle sounded through the
forest, and then came a call from Antonio Sarvisti.
</p>

<p>
"On them!" he shouted.  "Pour in a volley and
then charge."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Charge!" shouted Antonio again, placing himself
at the head of some of the men and advancing,
revolver in hand.  "Now, another volley!"
</p>

<p>
"Fire!" cried Dudley, hearing and understanding
his order.  "Fire at the flashes!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Good!  We will teach them," muttered Antonio.
"Send a dozen men in that direction, <i>amico</i>."
</p>

<p>
"Time to move," whispered Dudley.  "I think our
comrade has attracted their attention.  Give them a
few more shots as I go."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap18"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER XVIII
<br /><br />
A DASH FOR THE PAMPAS
</h3>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Ah, that is fortunate!  I have found him."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

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

<p>
"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, <i>amico</i>!  Their ammunition will
not last forever.  We will do our best to give them
many an alarm."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
On hands and knees again, feverish with the desire
to get through the encircling line, and yet curbing his
impatience&mdash;for haste here might mean failure and
death,&mdash;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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap19"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER XIX
<br /><br />
ANTONIO SARVISTI IS SURPRISED
</h3>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;yes, I'll take him."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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:
</p>

<p>
"Help, help!  To the rescue!"
</p>

<p>
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&mdash;&mdash;
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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, <i>amigo</i>, 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&mdash;&mdash;"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
<a id="p342"></a>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /></p>

<p><a id="chap20"></a></p>

<h3>
CHAPTER XX
<br /><br />
BROUGHT TO BOOK
</h3>

<p>
"Hallo!  Hallo!  Stop there!  Dudley!  Harold!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

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

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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&mdash;why,
great powers, I know this fellow!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"Thirty-four, señor," corrected Pietro.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

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

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

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

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Harold!  Harold!" came in Mr. Blunt's stentorian
tones.  "Harold, ahoy!"
</p>

<p>
"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!"
</p>

<p>
Once more the strong voice was heard.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"Amongst which will be the mounts they captured
from my little escort.  Now, we'll give our friends a
hail."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"Ahoy there!  Harold!  Mr. Blunt!"
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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?"
</p>

<p>
"Nine in all," came the answer.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
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&mdash;&mdash;
</p>

<p>
"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."
</p>

<p>
"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.
</p>

<p>
"Rather!" he said.  "That would be jolly!  We
shall still continue the same happy family."
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p>

<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 65656 ***</div>
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