The _tormenta_ is over, or has pa.s.sed on to another part of the great Chaco plain.

And now the Tovas youths, their naked skins well washed by the shower, and glistening like bronze fresh from the furnace--some of them, however, bleeding from the scratches they have received--spring upon their feet, re-adjust the _jergas_ on the backs of their horses, and once more remount.

Then their young chief, by the side of the captive girl, having returned to his place at their head, they forsake that spot of painful experience, and continue their journey so unexpectedly interrupted.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

A RUSH FOR SHELTER.

It is scarce necessary to say, that the storm that over took the Indian party was the same of which the barometer-tree had given warning to Gaspar and his young companions. But although many a long league separated the Indians from those following upon their trail, and it would take the latter at least another day to reach the spot where the former had met the _tormenta_, both were beset by it within less than half-an-hour of the same time. The Indians first, of course, since it came from the quarter towards which all were travelling, and therefore in the teeth of pursuers as pursued.

But the trackers were not called upon to sustain its shock, as those they were tracking up. Instead of its coming upon them in an exposed situation, before its first puffs became felt they were safe out of harm's way, having found shelter within the interior of a cavern. It was this Gaspar alluded to when saying, he knew of a place that would give them an asylum. For the gaucho had been twice over this ground before--once on a hunting excursion in the company of his late master; and once at an earlier period of his life on an expedition of less pleasant remembrance, when, as a captive himself, he was carried up the Pilcomayo by a party of Guaycuru Indians, from whom he was fortunate in making escape.

His knowledge of the cave's locality, however, was not obtained during his former and forced visit to the district they are now traversing; but in that made along with the hunter-naturalist; who, partly out of curiosity, but more for geological investigation, had entered and explored it.

"It's by the bank of a little _arroyo_ that runs into the Pilcomayo, some three or four miles above the big river. And, as I take it, not much further from where we are now. But we must make a cross-cut to reach it in the quickest time."

This Gaspar says as they part from the barometer-tree. Following out his intention he heads his horse towards the open plain, and forsakes the Indian trail, the others following his lead.

They now go in full gallop, fast as their horses can carry them; for they have no longer any doubts about the coming on of a _tormenta_. The forecast given them by the flowers of the _uinay_ is gradually being made good by what they see--a dun yellowish cloud rising against the horizon ahead. The gaucho well understands the sign, soon as he sees this recognising it as the dreaded dust-storm.

It approaches them just as it had done the Indians. First the atmosphere becoming close and hot as the interior of an oven; then suddenly changing to cold, with gusts of wind, and the sky darkening as though the sun were eclipsed.

But, unlike the others, they are not exposed to the full fury of the blast; neither are they in danger of being blinded by the sulphureous dust, nor pelted with sticks and stones. Before the storm has thus developed itself they reach the crest of the cliff overhanging the _arroyo_; and urging their horses down a sloping path remembered by Gaspar, they get upon the edge of the stream itself. Then, turning up it, and pressing on for another hundred yards, they arrive at the cavern's mouth, just as the first puff of the chilly wind sweeps down the deep rut-like valley through which the _arroyo_ runs.

"In time!" exclaims the gaucho. "Thanks to the Virgin, we're in time!

with not a second to spare," he adds, dismounting, and leading his horse into the arching entrance, the others doing the same.

Once inside, however, they do not give way to inaction; for Gaspar well knows they are not yet out of danger.

"Come, _muchachos_," he cries to them, soon as they have disposed of their animals, "there's something more to be done before we can call ourselves safe. A _tormenta's_ not a thing to be trifled with. There isn't corner or cranny in this cave the dust wouldn't reach to. It could find its way into a corked bottle, I believe. _Carramba_! there it comes!"

The last words are spoken as a whiff of icy wind, now blowing furiously down the ravine, turns into the cavern's mouth, bringing with it both dust and dry leaves.

For a moment the gaucho stands in the entrance gazing out; the others doing likewise. Little can they see; for the darkness is now almost opaque, save at intervals, when the ravine is lit up by jets of forked and sheet lightning. But much do they hear; the loud bellowing of wind, the roaring of thunder, and the almost continuous crashing of trees, whose branches break off as though they were but brittle gla.s.s. And the stream which courses past close to the cave's mouth, now a tiny mulct, will soon be a raging, foaming torrent, as Gaspar well knows.

They stay not to see that, nor aught else. They have other work before them--the something of which the gaucho spoke, and to which he now hastily turns, crying out--

"Your ponchos, my lads! Get them, quick! We must close up the entrance with them, otherwise we'll stand a good chance of being smothered.

_Vaya_!"

Neither needs urging to haste. Young as they are, they too have had experience of a _tormenta_. More than once they have witnessed it, remembering how in their house, near a.s.suncion, it drove the dust through the keyholes of me doors, finding its way into every crack and crevice, making ridges across the floor, just as snow in northern lands--of which, however, they know nothing, save from what they have read, or been told by one who will tell them of such things no more.

In a few seconds' time, three ponchos--for each possesses one--are s.n.a.t.c.hed from the cantles of their saddles, and as speedily spread across the entrance of the cave--just covering it, with not an inch to spare. With like speed and dexterity, they join them together, in a rough but firm st.i.tching done by the nimble fingers of the gaucho--his thread a strip of thong, and for needle the sharp terminal spine of the _pita_ plant--one of which he finds growing near by. They attach them at top by their knife blades stuck into seams of the stratified rock, and at bottom by stones laid along the border; these heavy enough to keep them in place against the strongest gust of wind.

All this done, they breathe freely, now feeling secure; and after a last look at the screen to a.s.sure himself of its being reliable, the gaucho turns to his companions, quietly remarking, "Now, _muchachos_, I fancy we need have no more fear of Mr Tormenta."

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

AN UNWELCOME INTRUDER.

As they are now in the midst of amorphous darkness, it might be imagined nothing could be done but keep their place, or go groping idly about.

Not so, however. Gaspar has no intention of letting the time pa.s.s in such an unprofitable manner; instead, he at once resumes speech, and along with it action.

"Now, young masters," he says, making a movement towards the place where they had left their horses, "since we are shut up here, I don't see why we shouldn't make ourselves as comfortable as we can under the circ.u.mstances; and the best way to begin will be with what's usually the winding up of a day's work--that's supper. Our bit of rough riding has given me the appet.i.te of a wolf, and I feel as if I could eat one red-raw. Suppose we have another set-to at the shoulder of mutton?

What say you, _senoritos_?"

They answer in the affirmative, both being as hungry as himself.

"We sha'n't have to eat in darkness either," he proceeds. "Luckily, I've brought with me a bit of candle--best wax at that. A costly affair it was when whole; being one of a pair I had to pay for when my poor mother died, to be used at her funeral, and for which the rascally _padres_ charged me five _pesos_ a-piece--because consecrated, as they called out. As they stood me so much, I thought I might as well save the stumps; which I did, and have got one of them here. Starting out, it occurred to me we might some time need it, as you see we do now; so I slipped it into my saddle-bags."

While speaking, he has moved on to his horse, and got beside him without much straying; for his former visit to the cavern has made him familiar with its topography, and he could go anywhere through it without a glimmer of light to guide him. Plunging his hand into his ample _alparejas_, and rummaging about for a short while, he gets hold of the bit of unburnt candle--souvenir of a melancholy ceremony, which, however, he had long ceased to mourn over, since his mother has been dead for many years.

He has drawn it out; removed the sc.r.a.p of buckskin in which it was wrapped; and with flint and steel is proceeding to strike a light, when a sound reaches his ears that causes him to suspend operations, and stand intently listening for its repet.i.tion.

Simultaneously has it been heard by the other two, as also by the three horses; these last, on hearing it, showing their affright by a series of snorts, while they dance about over the floor of the cavern. For it is a sound which, heard in any part of tropical America, whether on sunlit plain or in shady forest, strikes terror to the heart of all who hear it, be it man, bird, or beast. No living creature in that land but dreads the cry of the jaguar.

"_El tigre_!" exclaims Gaspar in a subdued tone, his voice half-drowned by a second roar from the great feline, this time louder and more prolonged.

"Where is it?" they ask one another hurriedly, and in whispers, fearing to speak out. For loud as is the creature's voice as it reverberates through the hollow cavity, what with the bellowing of the wind and the trampling of their horses' hoofs on the hard rock, it is impossible to tell whence it came, and whether the jaguar be outside the cavern or within. About this there is a difference of opinion among them, but only for an instant--all three agreeing, as for the third time the terrifying note is sounded. Then they believe it to have come from outside. But again they as quickly differ, at hearing a fourth repet.i.tion of it; this as certainly seeming to have been uttered inside the cavern. Once more changing their minds, when, for the fifth time, the beast gives out its grand roar; since along with it they hear another sound as of some heavy body hurling itself against the screen of spread ponchos, too solid to be mistaken for a puff of wind. Beyond doubt, it is the tiger seeking admittance to the cave!

Though but a few minutes have elapsed since its first fierce note fell upon their ears, they have not stood idly listening. Instead, all three have groped the way to their horses, got hold of their guns, and returned to take stand near the entrance. Gaspar, moreover, has lit the stump of candle, and stuck it upon a projecting point of rock; for he knows the _tigre_, like other cats, can see in the darkness, and would thus have the advantage of them.

Soon again it treats them to another bit of trumpeting, this time more angrily intoned, as if demanding shelter from the storm, and no doubt as much surprised as puzzled at the strange obstruction debarring entrance to the cave--in all likelihood its lair.

They have stationed themselves in a line facing the screen, and with guns c.o.c.ked stand ready to fire at the beast, should it persist in its intention to enter. But now, with the light shining upon the ponchos, they see what appears to be its body pressing against these from the outside, though quickly withdrawn, as if the creature recoiled from a thing that awes while perplexing it.

"Hadn't we better fire at it through the ponchos? Some one of us may hit it."

Cypriano makes the suggestion.

"No," dissents Gaspar, "we might all miss that way; and if we did, 'twould drive the _tigre_ mad, and then--"

He is interrupted by another cry from the jaguar; this a fierce scream, showing the animal already maddened enough, or, at all events, madly impatient, and determined no longer to endure exclusion from the cave.

For while still continuing that cry, it bounds up against the screen, plucking the knives from their places, tossing off the stones, and laying the entrance open. A gust of wind entering blows out the candle, and all is again darkness. But not silence; for there are noises close to where they stand, which they know must proceed from the jaguar, though different from its former utterances, and to them quite incomprehensible--a succession of growls, snorts, and coughs, as if the beast were being suffocated; while at the same time a heavy body seems to be tumbling and struggling over the floor of the cavern!

"By Saint Jago!" cries Gaspar, first to comprehend what it means, "the brute's caught in our ponchos! He's bagged--smothered up! Fire into him! Aim where you hear the noise. _Tira_!"

At the word, their three guns go off together; and then, to make sure, another shot additional from the double barrelled piece of Cypriano; Ludwig's gun being the rifle that belonged to his father, found where the latter had fallen.

And sure work have their shots made of it. For as they stand in the darkness listening, they hear neither growl, nor snort, nor coughing; but, instead, only the wailing of wind and the rumbling of thunder.

"Dead as a door-nail!" p.r.o.nounces Gaspar, feeling his way to where he had stuck the bit of bees'-wax, and once more setting it alight. Then returning towards the entrance, he sees that he has in everything rightly conjectured. For there, enveloped in the ponchos, with its claws stuck fast into the close-woven fabric of wool, lies the great spotted cat--not at full stretch, but doubled up into a shapeless lump, as it had worked itself in its efforts to get free! Though all their shots had hit it, some of the bullets pa.s.sing through its body, a quivering throughout its frame tells that life is not yet extinct. But it is extinguished instantly after, by Gaspar laying hold of one of the knives, and giving _el tigre_ the _coup de grace_ by a cut across its throat; as he does so, saying--