The Trappers of Arkansas: or, The Loyal Heart. Gustave AimardЧитать онлайн книгу.
them from getting out of his way as fast as they would have wished.
"Eh! eh! Caspita!" (said, as the boy jostled him in passing, a vaquero with a stupid countenance and athletic limbs,) "Devil take the madman, he nearly knocked me down! Eh! but," he added, after having cast a glance at the young man, "if I mistake not, that is Rafaël, my neighbour's son! Wait a moment, picaro!"
While speaking this aside between his teeth, the vaquero unrolled the lasso which he wore fastened to his belt, and set off running in the direction of the horseman.
The crowd, who understood his intention, applauded with enthusiasm.
"Bravo, bravo!" they cried.
"Don't miss him, Cornejo!" some vaqueros encouragingly shouted, clapping their hands.
Cornejo, since we know the name of this interesting personage, gained insensibly upon the boy, before whom obstacles multiplied more and more.
Warned of the perils which threatened him, by the cries of the spectators, the horseman turned his head.
Then he saw the vaquero.
A livid paleness covered his countenance; he felt that he was lost.
"Let me escape, Cornejo," he cried, choking with tears.
"No, no!" the crowd howled; "lasso him! lasso him!"
The populace took great interest in this manhunt; they feared to find themselves cheated of a spectacle which gave them much satisfaction.
"Surrender," the giant replied; "or else, I warn you, I will lasso you like a ciboto."
"I will not surrender," the boy said resolutely.
The two speakers still held on their way, the one on foot, the other on horseback.
The crowd followed, howling with pleasure. The masses are thus everywhere – barbarous and without pity.
"Leave me, I say," the boy resumed, "or I swear by the blessed souls of purgatory, that evil will befall you!"
The vaquero sneered, and whirled his lasso round his head.
"Be warned, Rafaël," he said; "for the last time, will you surrender?"
"No! a thousand times no!" the boy cried, passionately.
"By the grace of God, then!" said the vaquero.
The lasso whizzed and flew through the air.
But a strange thing happened at the same moment.
Rafaël stopped his horse short, as if it had been changed into a block of granite; and, springing from the saddle, he bounded like a tiger upon the giant, whom the shock bore down upon the sand; and before anybody could oppose him, he plunged into his throat the knife which all Mexicans wear in their belts.
A long stream of blood spouted into the face of the boy, the vaquero writhed about for a few seconds, and then remained motionless.
He was dead!
The crowd uttered a cry of horror and fear.
Quick as lightning, the boy had regained his saddle, and recommenced his desperate course, brandishing his knife, and laughing with the grin of a demon.
When, after the first moment of stupor had passed, the people turned to pursue the murderer, he had disappeared. No one could tell which way he had gone. As is generally the case under such circumstances, the juez de letras (criminal judge), accompanied by a crowd of ragged alguaciles, arrived on the spot where the murder had been committed when it was too late.
The juez de letras, Don Inigo Tormentes Albaceyte, was a man of some fifty years of age, short and stout, with an apoplectic face, who took snuff out of a gold box enriched with diamonds, and concealed under an apparent bonhomie a profound avarice backed by excessive cunning and a coolness which nothing could move.
Contrary to what might have been expected, the worthy magistrate did not appear the least in the world disconcerted by the flight of the assassin; he shook his head two or three times, cast a glance round the crowd, and winked his little grey eye, —
"Poor Cornejo!" he said, stuffing his nose philosophically with snuff: "this was sure to happen to him some day or other."
"Yes," said a lepero, "he was neatly killed!"
"That is what I was thinking," the judge replied; "he who gave this blow knew what he was about; the fellow is a practised hand."
"Humph!" the lepero replied, with a shrug of his shoulders, "he is a boy."
"Bah!" the judge said, with feigned astonishment, and casting an under-glance at the speaker; "a boy!"
"Little more," the lepero added, proud of being thus listened to; "it was Rafaël, Don Ramón's eldest son."
"Ah! ah! ah!" the judge said, with a secret satisfaction. "But no," he went on, "that is not possible; Rafaël is but sixteen at most; he would never have been so foolish as to quarrel with Cornejo, who, by only grasping his arm, could have disabled him."
"Nevertheless, it was as I tell your excellency, – we all saw it. Rafaël had been playing at monte, at Don Aguillar's, and it appears that luck was not favourable to him; he lost all the money he had; he then flew into a rage, and to avenge himself, set fire to the house."
"Caspita!" said the judge.
"It was just as I have the honour to tell your excellency; look, the smoke may yet be seen, though the house is in ashes."
"Well, it seems so," the judge said, turning his eyes to the point indicated by the lepero. "And, then – "
"Then," the other continued, "he naturally wished to escape. Cornejo endeavoured to stop him."
"He was right!"
"Well, he was wrong, I think; for Rafaël killed him!"
"That's true! that's true!" said the judge; "but be satisfied, my good people, justice will avenge him."
This promise was received by all present with a smile of doubt.
The magistrate, without concerning himself about the impression produced by his words, ordered his acolytes, who had already examined and plundered the defunct, to take the body away, and transport it to the porch of the nearest church, and then returned to his residence, rubbing his hands with a satisfied air.
The judge put on a travelling dress, placed a brace of pistols in his belt, fastened a long sword to his side, and, after taking a light dinner, went out.
Ten alguaciles, armed to the teeth, and mounted on strong horses, waited for him at the door; a domestic held the bridle of a magnificent black horse, which pawed the ground and champed the bit impatiently. Don Inigo placed himself in the saddle, headed his men, and the troop went off at a gentle trot.
"Eh! eh!" said the curious, who were stationed around upon the doorsteps. "The Juez Albaceyte is going to Don Ramón Garillas's; we shall hear some news tomorrow."
"Caspita!" others replied; "his picaro of a son has fairly earned the cord that is to hang him!"
"Humph!" said a lepero, with a smile of regret; "that would be unfortunate! the lad promises so well! By my word, the cuchillada he gave Cornejo was magnificent. The poor devil was neatly killed."
In the meantime, the judge continued his journey, returning with punctuality all the salutations with which he was overwhelmed on his way. He was soon in the country.
Then pulling his cloak tighter round him, he asked, —
"Are the arms all loaded?"
"Yes, excellency," the chief of the alguaciles replied.
"That's well. To the hacienda of Don Ramón Garillas, then; and at a smart pace; we must endeavour to get there before nightfall."
The party set off at a gallop.
CHAPTER II.
THE HACIENDA DEL MILAGRO
The environs of Hermosillo are a thorough desert. The road which leads from that city to the Hacienda del