CHAPTER VIII.
THE BULLS OF THE BLESSED TRINITY.
The absolute freedom of illimitable space, the exhilaration of thesparkling sunlight, and the excitement of the opposing wind, which wasstrong enough to oblige him to exert a certain degree of physicalstrength to overcome it, so wrought upon Arthur, that in a few momentshe had thrown off the mysterious spell which the Rancho of the BlessedTrinity appeared to have cast over his spirits, and had placed amaterial distance between himself and its gloomy towers. The landscape,which had hitherto seemed monotonous and uninspiring, now becamesuggestive; in the low dome-shaped hills beyond, that were huddledtogether like half-blown earth bubbles raised by the fiery breath ofsome long-dead volcano, he fancied he saw the origin of the missionarchitecture. In the long sweep of the level plain, he recognised thecalm, uneventful life that had left its expression in the patientgravity of the people. In the fierce, restless wind that blew over it--awind so persistent and perpetual that all umbrage, except a narrowfringe of dwarfed willows defining the line of an extract watercourse,was hidden in sheltered ca[~n]ons and the lee-ward slopes of the hills--herecognized something of his own restless race, and no longer wondered atthe barrenness of the life that was turned towards the invader. "Idaresay," he muttered to himself, "somewhere in the lee-ward of thesepeople's natures may exist a luxurious growth that we shall never know.I wonder if the Donna has not"--but here he stopped; angry, and, if thetruth must be told, a little frightened at the persistency with whichDonna Dolores obtruded herself into his abstract philosophy andsentiment.
Possibly something else caused him for the moment to dismiss her fromhis mind. During his rapid walk he had noticed, as an accidental, and byno means an essential feature of the bleak landscape, the vast herds ofcrawling, purposeless cattle. An entirely new and distinct impressionwas now forming itself in his consciousness--namely, that they no longerwere purposeless, vagrant, and wandering, but were actually obeying acertain definite law of attraction, and were moving deliberately towardan equally definite object. And that object was himself!
Look where he would; before, behind, on either side, north, east, south,west,--on the bleak hill-tops, on the slope of the _falda_, across thedried-up _arroyo_, there were the same converging lines of slowly movingobjects towards a single focus--himself! Although walking briskly, andwith a certain definiteness of purpose, he was apparently the onlyunchanging, fixed, and limited point in the now active landscape.Everything that rose above the dead, barren level was now moving slowly,irresistibly, instinctively, but unmistakably, towards one commoncentre--himself! Alone and unsupported, he was the helpless, unconsciousnucleus of a slowly gathering force, almost immeasurable in itsimmensity and power!
At first the idea was amusing and grotesque. Then it became picturesque.Then it became something for practical consideration. And then--butno!--with the quick and unerring instincts of a powerful will, he chokeddown the next consideration before it had time to fasten upon orparalyse his strength. He stopped and turned. The Rancho of the BlessedTrinity was gone! Had it suddenly sank in the earth, or had he divergedfrom his path? Neither; he had simply walked over the little elevationin the plain beside the _arroyo_ and _corral_, and had already left theRancho two miles behind him.
It was not the only surprise that came upon him suddenly like a blowbetween the eyes. The same mysterious attraction had been operating inhis rear, and when he turned to retrace his steps towards the Mission,he faced the staring eyes of a hundred bulls not fifty yards away. As hefaced them, the nearest turned, the next rank followed their example,the next the same, and the next, until in the distance he could see themovement repeated with military precision and sequence. With a sense ofrelief, that he put aside as quickly as he had the sense of fear, hequickened his pace, until the nearest bull ahead broke into a gentletrot, which was communicated line by line to the cattle beyond, untilthe whole herd before him undulated like a vast monotonous sea. Hecontinued on across the _arroyo_ and past the _corral_ until theblinding and penetrating cloud of dust, raised by the plunging hoofs ofthe moving mass before him, caused him to stop. A dull reverberation ofthe plain--a sound that at first might have been attributed to a passingearthquake--now became so distinct that he turned. Not twenty yardsbehind him rose the advance wall of another vast, tumultuous sea oftossing horns and undulating backs that had been slowly following hisretreat! He had forgotten that he was surrounded.
The nearest were now so close upon him that he could observe themseparately. They were neither large, powerful, vindictive nor ferocious.On the contrary, they were thin, wasted, haggard, anxious beasts,economically equipped and gotten up, the better to wrestle with a sixmonths' drought, occasional famine, and the incessant buffeting of thewind--wild and untamable, but their staring eyes and nervous limbsexpressed only wonder and curiosity. And when he ran toward them with ashout, they turned, as had the others, file by file, and rank by rank,and in a moment were, like the others, in full retreat. Rather, let mesay, retreated as the others _had_ retreated, for when he faced aboutagain to retrace his steps toward the Mission, he fronted the bossybucklers and inextricable horns of those he had driven only a fewmoments ago before him. They had availed themselves of his diversionwith the rear-guard to return.
With the rapidity of a quick intellect and swift perceptions, Arthur sawat once the resistless logic and utter hopelessness of his situation.The inevitable culmination of all this was only a question of time--anda very brief period. Would it be sufficient to enable him to reach the_casa_? No! Could he regain the _corral_? Perhaps. Between it andhimself already were a thousand cattle. Would they continue to retreatas he advanced? Possibly. But would he be overtaken meanwhile by thosein his rear?
He answered the question himself by drawing from his waistcoat pockethis only weapon, a small "Derringer," and taking aim at the foremostbull. The shot took effect in the animal's shoulder, and he fell uponhis knees. As Arthur had expected, his nearer comrades stopped andsniffed at their helpless companion. But, as Arthur had not expected,the eager crowd pressing behind over-bore them and their woundedbrother, and in another instant the unfortunate animal was prostrate andhis life beaten out by the trampling hoofs of the resistless, blind, andeager crowd that followed. With a terrible intuition that it was aforeshadowing of his own fate, Arthur turned in the direction of the_corral_, and ran for his very life!
As he ran he was conscious that the act precipitated the inevitablecatastrophe--but he could think of nothing better. As he ran, he felt,from the shaking of the earth beneath his feet, that the act had oncemore put the whole herd in equally active motion behind him. As he ran,he noticed that the cattle before him retreated with something of hisown precipitation. But as he ran, he thought of nothing but the awfulfate that was following him, and the thought spurred him to an almostfrantic effort. I have tried to make the reader understand that Arthurwas quite inaccessible to any of those weaknesses which mankind regardas physical cowardice. In the defence of what he believed to be anintellectual truth, in the interests of his pride or his self-love, orin a moment of passion, he would have faced death with unbrokenfortitude and calmness. But to be the victim of an accident; to be thelamentable sequel of a logical succession of chances, without motive orpurpose; to be sacrificed for nothing--without proving or disprovinganything; to be trampled to death by idiotic beasts, who had not eventhe instincts of passion or revenge to justify them; to die the death ofan ignorant tramp, or any negligent clown--a death that had a ghastlyludicrousness in its method, a death that would leave his body ashapeless, indistinguishable, unrecognisable clod, which affection couldnot idealise nor friendship reverence,--all this brought a horror withit so keen, so exquisite, so excruciating, that the fastidious, proud,intellectual being fleeing from it might have been the veriest dastardthat ever turned his back on danger. And superadded to it was asuperstitious thought that for its very horror, perhaps, it was aretribution for something that he dared not contemplate!
And it was then that his
strength suddenly flagged. His senses began toreel. His breath, which had kept pace with the quick beating of hisheart, intermitted, hesitated, was lost! Above the advancing thunder ofhoofs behind him, he thought he heard a woman's voice. He knew now hewas going crazy; he shouted and fell; he rose again and staggeredforward a few steps and fell again. It was over now! A sudden sense ofsome strange, subtle perfume, beating up through the acrid, smartingdust of the plain, that choked his mouth and blinded his eyes, cameswooning over him. And then the blessed interposition of unconsciousnessand peace.
He struggled back to life again with the word "Philip" in his ears, athrobbing brow, and the sensation of an effort to do something that wasrequired of him. Of all his experience of the last few moments only theperfume remained. He was lying alone in the dry bed of the _arroyo_; onthe bank a horse was standing, and above him bent the dark face anddarker eyes of Donna Dolores.
"Try to recover sufficient strength to mount that horse," she said,after a pause.
It was a woman before him. With that innate dread which all masculinenature has of exhibiting physical weakness before a weaker sex, Arthurstruggled to rise without the assistance offered by the small hand ofhis friend. That, however, even at that crucial moment, he so faravailed himself of it, as to press it, I fear was the fact.
"You came to my assistance alone?" asked Arthur, as he struggled to hisfeet.
"Why not? We are equal now, Don Arturo," said Donna Dolores, with adazzling smile. "I saw you from my window. You were rash--pardonme--foolish! The oldest vaquero never ventures a foot upon these plains.But come; you shall ride with me. There was no time to saddle anotherhorse, and I thought you would not care to let others know of youradventure. Am I right?"
There was a slight dimple of mischief in her cheek, and a quaint sparklein her dark eye, as she turned her questioning gaze on Arthur. He caughther hand and raised it respectfully to his lips.
"You are wise as you are brave, Donna Dolores."
"We shall see. But at present you must believe that I am right, and doas I say. Mount that horse--I will help you if you are tooweak--and--leave a space for me behind you!"
Thus adjured, Arthur leaped into the saddle. If his bones had beenbroken instead of being bruised, he would still have found strength forthat effort. In another instant Donna Dolores' little foot rested onhis, and she lightly mounted behind him.
"Home now. Hasten; we will be there before any one will know it," shesaid, as she threw one arm around his waist, with superbunconsciousness.
Arthur lifted the rein and dropped his heels into the flanks of thehorse. In five minutes--the briefest, as it seemed to him, he had everpassed--they were once more within the walls of the Blessed Trinity.
BOOK IV.
_DRIFTING._