CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
COLONEL MARCHBANKS PROVES TO BE NOT SO GOOD A GENERAL AS HE GETS CREDITFOR, AND LAWRENCE STANDS SELF-CONVICTED.
It has been stated that our hero had agreed to join Colonel Marchbanksin the pursuit of the Indians, not because the troops sought to avengethe murders which had been committed, but because several women andchildren had been carried off, and the rescue of these formed the mainobject of the expedition.
There can be no doubt, however, that the desire of Lawrence to join insuch a praiseworthy adventure was not a little stimulated by the factthat Manuela was to accompany her father, at least a part of the way,and he naturally hoped to have some opportunities of speaking to her--perhaps of riding beside her, as he had so often done when he imaginedher to be a daughter of the Incas.
But alas! the course of his love being true and deep--remarkably deep--was doomed to run in its proverbially rugged course.
Colonel Marchbanks, when leading his men to "glory"--or otherwise--likea true soldier, as he was, invariably moved with an advance andrear-guard. Like a cautious father, he placed Lawrence in therear-guard, and arranged that there should be a considerable distancebetween it and the main body.
We may remark in passing that when the first burst of the oldgentleman's anger with Lawrence was over he had generously resolved, inconsideration of what the young man had done for his daughter, to makeno further allusion to the ballroom scene, but merely to hold thepresumptuous youth politely at arm's-length, and take especial care thatthe two young people should not again have an opportunity of meetingalone. He laid no command on either of them, but simply trusted to hisown wisdom and watchfulness.
Being as it were a freelance, Lawrence, he knew, would naturally ride inthe force very much where he pleased. He had therefore cleverlyprovided against the evil consequences that might flow from such freedomby making a little arrangement at a brief and final interview theevening before they set out.
"Now, young senhor," he said, in his usual abrupt way, "although avolunteer in this expedition, and not versed in military matters, youmust of course put yourself under my orders, and consider yourself oneof my troopers."
Oh! of course, of course, Lawrence had not the slightest objection to doso. He was quite ready to do whatever was required of him, if only hemight assist in the rescue of hapless captives; and although he knewnothing of military matters, still, in the event of an engagement, hemight prove himself useful as a surgeon.
"Humph! We don't deal much in surgeons in this country. It is usuallydo or die with us," replied the colonel, with a grim smile. "However,we shall see. Meanwhile, I have appointed you to the charge of some ofthe baggage-mules. Your late experience must have made you somewhatexpert in such matters, and your duty will be with the rear-guard. Oneof my officers will show you your position in the morning. Good-night."
Lawrence left with a quiet "Good-night, colonel," and with a veryunquiet feeling that somehow things might not turn out precisely as hehad hoped.
Later that night Manuela appeared before her stern father dressed in theold familiar costume of an Indian girl, and with her fair skin staineddark brown. Usually the old soldier met his child with a beaming smile,that lit up his rugged visage with tenderness, as a gleam of sunshinesometimes illumines the rugged peaks of the Andes, but on this occasionhe received her with a frown compounded of love and annoyance.
"How now, child? This is an unseasonable time for such foolery."
"I want to travel in my old dress, father," she replied, with a winningsmile that almost tore the old man's heart in twain;--and there are suchsmiles, reader, let us assure you, though you may not have had the goodfortune to see them yet!
"You certainly shall do nothing of the sort, my dear," returned thestern old man, as if he were laying down one of the Medo-Persic laws--for he was very tough, you know, and had great power of control over hisfeelings, especially the softer ones.
"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry you don't like it!" said the Inca princess, with alittle look of humble disappointment which was infinitely moreheartrending than the smile; "but do you know, father, I have ridden solong in this costume, and in the gentleman fashion, that I feel quitesure--at least, I think--I should be utterly knocked up the first day ifI were to begin a long hard journey in the ladies' position. Then, youknow, I could not dare to ride so in ordinary female dress and with awhite face; the thing would look ridiculous--wouldn't it? And, ofcourse, everybody knows that Pedro arrived here with an Indian girl inhis band, so the thing will seem quite natural, and nobody will noticeme, especially if I keep near to Pedro; and the soldiers will justthink--if they think at all--that you have left your daughter behind."
"Ah, well, that alters the case, Manuela," said the colonel, with mostun-Medo-Persic hesitancy, and still frowning a little at hisink-bottle--not at his daughter. "Of course, if it had been merely oneof your whims, _nothing_ would have induced me to let you go in suchguise, but there is truth in what you say, and--yes--a good thought, youshall travel near Pedro. Good-night. Go to bed, love. You will needall the rest you can obtain between now and morning."
"Good-night, darling father. I would kiss you if I had not just put onthe stain."
She retired, and soon after laid her pretty brown cheek on her pillow inplacid contentment, while her grim father arranged his war plans so thatPedro should travel with the _advance-guard_.
There was a soft, fresh, exhilarating breeze blowing from the Pampas asthe troop issued from the little town at a gallop, when the first streakof dawn became visible.
There was order, doubtless, in all the arrangements, but all seemedutter confusion to Lawrence as he assisted the young officer under whosespecial command he was placed to look after the mules. Some faintevidence of order, however, began to reveal itself to his uneducatedmind when he observed that the confusion abated on the main body movingoff and leaving him with a small band behind. His perception of ordermight have been still further though unpleasantly increased had he knownthat the advance-guard, with Manuela in its train, had started aconsiderable time previously. But he had not much time to think, forthe command was almost immediately given to mount and ride.
Quashy was beside him, for, being his servant, Colonel Marchbanks hadsaid he might do with him as he pleased. But Quashy was silent, for hisspirit was chafed. His master observed the fact after the firsthalf-hour's gallop.
"What ails you, Quash?"
"I can't abide peepil," growled the negro, "what says `aw!'"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that Aw's agwine wid us."
"What--the sportsman--eh?"
"Yes, massa. On'y I don't b'lieve he ever sported nuffin but a swagger,and--and--`aw!' W'en I git up dis mornin' I heerd 'im say to hisfriend: `I say, Jack, wouldn't it--aw--be dooced good fun to go and--aw--hab a slap at de Injins?' If de Injins send a spear troo hislibber--aw--he'll not t'ink it sitch fun!"
"That's true, Quash, but the same may be said of ourselves."
"Not so, massa, 'cause we nebber said it would be `dooced good fun.'"
"There's something in that, Quash, but you shouldn't let feelings ofill-will to any one get the mastery of you. Men of his stamp are oftenvery good fellows at bottom, though they do `aw' in a most ridiculousand unaccountable manner. Besides, he has done you no harm."
"Done me no harm!" repeated the negro, indignantly, "didn't he say youwas mad or drunk?"
"Well, well," said Lawrence, laughing, "that was a very innocent remark.It did no harm to either of us."
"You's wrong, massa," returned Quashy in a magnificently hurt tone. "Itdood no harm to you, but it hurt my _feelin's_, an' dat's wuss danhurtin' my body."
At this point in the conversation the troop passed over the brow of aneminence, and beheld the wide rolling sea of the illimitable SouthAmerican Pampas, or plains, stretching away on all sides to the horizon.During the whole morning they had been galloping through the region ofthe _Monte_, or bush, that border-land whic
h connects the treelessplains with the tropical forests of the north, where thorny shrubscovered the ground in more or less dense patches, where groves of thealgaroba--a noble tree of the mimosa species,--and trees laden with apeach-like but poisonous fruit, as well as other trees and shrubs,diversified the landscape, and where the ground was carpeted withbeautiful flowering plants, among which were the variegated blossoms ofverbena, polyanthus, and others.
But now, all was changed. It seemed as if the party had reached theshores of a great, level, grassy sea, with only here and there a seemingislet, where a thicket grew, to break the sky-line of the horizon. Fora few minutes the rear-guard drew up to collect the stragglingbaggage-mules, and then away they went with a wild shout, as if theywere moved by the same glad feeling of freedom that affects the petrelwhen it swoops over the billows of the mighty ocean.
The scene and the sensations were absolutely new to Lawrence and Quashy.Both were mounted on very good horses, which seemed to sympathise withtheir riders, for they required no spur to urge them over the grassyplain. The sun was bright, and Lawrence had been too long accustomed tothe leaden skies of old England to quarrel with the sunshine, howeverhot it might be; besides, he rather enjoyed heat, and as for Quashy,heat was his native element. A pleasant air was blowing, too. Inshort, everything looked beautiful, especially to our hero, who knew--atleast supposed--that a certain princess of the Incas was in the bandimmediately in front of him. He was not aware, you see, that she waswith the advance-guard!
"Das am mug-nifercent!" exclaimed Quashy, as his horse put his foot intoa biscacho-hole, and only escaped a fall by making a splendid bound,where by its haunch, striking the negro's back, sent him plunging on toits neck.
"Oh! I _does_ like to be shook like dat, massa."
"If you get shook much worse than that," cried Lawrence, "I'll have tostop to pick you up."
"No fear, massa. Howebber much I wobbles I nebber comes off."
An islet of bushes at this point necessitated a slight detour. On theother side of it they found that the main body of the troop had haltedfor rest and food.
Right glad was Lawrence to find that Colonel Marchbanks's humour wasentirely changed, that the asperity of the previous night had passedaway, and that the natural urbanity of his nature had returned.
"A pleasant gallop, was it not, Senhor Armstrong?" he said, as our herojoined the group of officers around him.
"Delightful, and quite new to me," said Lawrence. "I have often read ofbut never seen the Pampas till now."
He looked furtively about as he spoke. The colonel marked the look, andwith a somewhat grim smile observed that they should see more thanenough of the Pampas for some days to come.
"The sea of long yellow-brown grass and thistles," he added, "gets to berather monotonous at last; but I never weary of the feeling of immensityand freedom which it inspires. Come, dine with us, senhor."
Lawrence gladly accepted the invitation.
"We make but a brief halt," said the colonel, "for time presses anddistances are great. Our next shall be at the Estancia Algaroba, wherewe shall spend the night. Your friend Pedro will make arrangements forus. He is with the advance-guard."
"Oh, indeed," said Lawrence; then, feeling that he ought to saysomething more, "I suppose his newly-found daughter is with him?"
"Yes," replied the colonel, curtly, as he shot a suspicious glance atthe youth from under his shaggy brows.
After dining, Lawrence returned to the baggage-mules with anunaccountable depression of spirits upon him, and deeply absorbed withthe question whether rear-guards ever overtook advance-guards, and what,if they did, usually became of intervening main bodies. With suchpuzzling military questions on his mind, the remainder of that day'sjourney was not equal to the first part, and even Quashy, thesympathetic, failed to interest him!
The estancia, previously referred to by the colonel, stood on a slighteminence surrounded by the grove of algaroba-trees from which it derivedits name. The fruit of this tree forms excellent food for cattle, andLawrence found himself busily engaged during the first hour afterarrival in procuring it for his mules, and otherwise looking after hischarge. When this duty was done, feeling no disposition to join hiscomrades at supper, he sauntered into a garden in rear of the estancia,where he found a rustic seat under an algaroba-tree, and sat down tomeditate.
It was a calm, peaceful, moonlight night, with an air, so he felt, ofsadness about it which harmonised with his melancholy thoughts. He nowbelieved he saw through Colonel Marchbanks's plan, and had given up allhope of seeing Manuela again. In these circumstances, being a man ofsubmissive spirit yet powerful will, he set himself resolutely to thinkof the important object in which he was engaged. Somewhat thus hismeditations ran--
"I am no soldier, but I am a man, and I should be less than a man--unworthy to live--if I were not ready to help in the rescue of women andchildren. Some of the girls, poor things, may be like Manu--that is--.Now, although I hate war, and do not approve of settling disputes by thesword, I feel that self-defence, or the defence of the helpless,justifies war,--ay, to the knife. Of course it does. Was I notthoroughly justified in fighting the robbers when Manu--. Well, then,let me think it out. A thing is not properly thought at all until it isthought out, and _found_ out. Talking of that, how fortunate thatPedro's little daughter was found out. It is most interesting! Idelight to think of her. And she's so pretty, too--quite beautiful,though, of course, not so beautiful as Man--"
"Bother Manuela!" he exclaimed aloud, starting up.
As he spoke, Manuela herself--the princess of the Incas--stood beforehim!
In order to account for this sudden miscarriage of the colonel's plans,we must turn aside to state that the princess, being of an activedisposition, and not easily tired, had said to Pedro that evening, whenhis detachment was encamping under a group of trees not far from theestancia, that she would ride back to the main body to see her father.
"But my strict orders are," said Pedro, "that I am to keep you with theadvance-guard, and you know that your father is not a man to bedisobeyed."
"Quite true," returned the princess, looking with a solemn expressiondown at Pedro--for she was still on horseback, while he and his men weredismounted, preparing the camp. "You must on no account disobey myfather, Pedro."
"Well then, you see," returned the guide, with an amused look, "I cannotgive you permission to leave us."
"Of course not. That would be insubordination, Pedro, would it not?which, in time of war, is punishable, I think, with death. I wouldnever think of asking permission, or tempting you to disobey. I will besure to tell my father that you positively refused to let me go. Adieu,Senhor Pedro. A good appetite and sweet repose!"
She touched her splendid horse with a switch, and next moment was flyingover the Pampas at a pace that rendered pursuit useless.
Dismounting and fastening her steed to a tree, she passed through thegarden towards the house, and naturally, as we have seen, came uponLawrence.
"Manuela!" he exclaimed.
"Si, senhor," she replied.
He advanced a step with outstretched arms, and then, checking himself,clasped his hands.
"Is it--can it be--a dream?"
"What doos you dream, senhor?" asked the girl, in the old familiarbroken English.
"Manuela, dear girl, do not trifle with me. It seems like magic. Did Inot see you--in the ballroom--white--the daughter of ColonelMarchbanks?"
"Well, Senhor Armstrong," said Manuela, earnestly, and in good English,"I admit that I am the daughter of Colonel Marchbanks, but I did not--indeed I did not _wish_ to deceive--"
"Deceive!" interrupted Lawrence, quickly, "as well might you tell methat one of the unfallen angels did not mean to deceive. O dear one,forgive me! I know not how to tell it--but--but--_can_ you believe thata great stupid fellow like myself loves you so that--that--I--well--it'sof no use. I'll never act wisely if I try to--to--"
He seized her hand. She
did not withdraw it. He drew her to him. Shedid not resist; and there followed a sound--a very slight sound; yet itwas not so slight but that it sent a shock of alarm and anger to thesoul of Colonel Marchbanks, who came up at that awkward moment.
"Sir! sirrah! senhor,--rascal!" spluttered the old man, as Manuela ranaway from the scene, "what--why--what do you mean?"
Drawing himself up, Lawrence said, with a look of dignity--
"Colonel Marchbanks, I can look you honestly in the face, and say thatneither in word nor deed have I done you or your daughter wrong."
"No--have you _not_?" shouted the colonel. "Sir! rascal!--there is alooking-glass over the mantelpiece in the estancia. Go there, look_yourself_ in the face, and say, if you dare, that you have done me nowrong!"
He wheeled about violently and strode away, fuming.
Lawrence went to his chamber, wondering at such a display of wrath inone so genial.
He glanced at the looking-glass in passing through the chief room of theestancia. The glance revealed to him the fact that there was a largerich brown patch in the region of his mouth and nose!