CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
PRECIOUS MOMENTS.
The Captain of the Queen's Dragoons continued his gallop towards thehacienda of Las Palmas.
For the first mile or two of his route, he passed over the broad plainthat lay silent under the soft light of the moon. The frondage of thepalms swayed gently under a sky sparkling with stars, and thepenetrating odour of the guavas loaded the atmosphere with a deliciousperfume. So tranquil was the scene, that Don Rafael began to think theIndian had been playing upon his credulity. Mechanically he relaxed hispace, and delivered himself up to one of those sweet reveries which thetropic night often awakens within the spirit of the traveller. At suchan hour one experiences a degree of rapture in listening to the voicesof earth and heaven, like a hymn which each alternately chants to theother.
All at once the traveller remembered what for the last two days of hisjourney had been perplexing him--the houses abandoned--the canoessuspended from the trees. Now, for the first time, did he comprehendthe meaning of these circumstances, no longer strange. The canoes and_periaguas_ had been thus placed as a last means of safety, for thosewho might be so unfortunate as to be overtaken by the inundation.
Suddenly rousing himself from his reverie, Don Rafael again spurred hishorse into a gallop.
He had ridden scarce a mile further, when all at once the voices of thenight became hushed. The cicadas in the trees, and the crickets underthe grass, as if by mutual consent, discontinued their cheerful chirrup;and the breeze, hitherto soft and balmy, was succeeded by puffs of wind,exhaling a marshy odour, stifling as the breath of some noisomepestilence.
This ominous silence was not of long duration. Presently the travellerperceived a hoarse distant roaring, not unlike that of the cataract hehad left behind him; but from a point diametrically opposite--in fact,from the direction towards which he was heading.
At first he fancied that in his momentary fit of abstraction he hadtaken a wrong direction, and might be returning upon the stream. Butno: the moon was on his left; his shadow and that of his horse wereprojected to the opposite side. He must still be on the right road.
His heart began to bound more quickly within his breast. If the Indianhad spoken the truth, a danger lay before him against which neither hiscarbine nor rapier--neither courage nor a strong arm--could avail him.His only hope rested in the speed and strength of his horse.
Fortunately, the long journey had not deprived the brave steed of allhis vigour. With ears laid back, and muzzle stretched horizontallyforward, he continued his rapid gallop; his spread nostrils inhaling thepuffs of damp air which came like avant-couriers in advance of thetroubled waters.
It was now a struggle between the horseman and the flood, as to whichshould first reach the hacienda of Las Palmas.
The officer slackened his bridle-rein. The tinkling rowels of his spursresounded against the ribs of his horse. The trial of speed hadcommenced. The plain appeared to glide past him like the current of ariver. The bushes and tall palms seemed flying backward.
The inundation was rolling from west to east. The horseman washastening in the opposite direction. Both must soon come together; butat what place?
The distance between them was rapidly diminishing. The noise of theflood, at first low, like the muttering of distant thunder, wasgradually growing louder. The palms still appeared to glide past likespectres, but as yet the belfry of the hacienda had not come in sight.Neither as yet was visible the threatening mass of the inundation.
At this perilous moment Don Rafael perceived that his horse was sensiblyslackening his pace. The sides of the animal felt swollen, and heavedwith a convulsive panting.
The air, so rapidly cut in his swift course, with difficulty entered hisnostrils. A few seconds longer, and that in his lungs must give out.
The officer drew up for an instant. The breathing of his horse appearedobstructed, and the hoarse sound, caused by its inspiration, was amournful accompaniment to the sough of the waters that were constantlyadvancing.
The traveller listened to these sounds with a sentiment of despair.
Just then he heard the clanging of a bell, as if hurriedly tolled. Itwas that of the hacienda, giving out its warning notes over the widesavanna.
A reflection crossed his mind. It had been partly suggested by thewords of the Indian: "_Think only of those who may bewail your death_."Was there in that hacienda, where he was hourly expected, one who wouldbewail it? Perhaps yes, and bitterly!
The thought would have urged him onward; but Don Rafael still remainedhalted. He saw that his horse required a moment of rest, in order torecover his wind, otherwise he could not have proceeded.
The dragoon had the presence of mind to perceive this imperiousnecessity; and, in spite of the danger that threatened he dismounted,loosened the girdle of his saddle, thus permitting the horse to breathemore freely.