The Flying Horseman. Gustave AimardЧитать онлайн книгу.
his eyes appeared to flash.
"If I am to be crushed against the rocks," he said in a firm voice, "I will not leave these unhappy ladies to die. Our fate is in the hands of God; whatever happens, I will try to succour them."
While speaking thus, the young man had risen, and walked resolutely towards the door of the tambo.
"Master, what would you do?" cried Tyro, throwing himself quickly before him; "You do not know what a storm is in the mountains; you expose yourself to a horrible death!"
"Be it so!" coolly responded the young man, trying to disengage himself; "But I shall do my duty."
"Your duty, master," cried the Indian with grief—"you will go to your death, that is all!"
"It is possible; but my resolution is irrevocably taken. Release me then, my brave Tyro, your efforts and your words to detain me are useless."
"Do as you think proper, master," said the Indian; "let us try, then, since you wish it."
"I require nothing of you, my friend," replied he; "this regards me alone, you will remain here."
"Oh, master," replied the Indian in a tone of reproach, "what have I done that you should speak to me thus?"
"You have done nothing to me," my friend; "I am not angry with you. Only, I have no right to expose you, to satisfy one of my caprices, to a terrible death."
"Master," said the Indian in an earnest tone, "I am with you body and soul; where you go, I shall go; what you do, I shall do. You wish to try to save these travellers? Be it so; let us attempt it."
"You have misunderstood me, my friend. You have told me yourself, that I shall go to a certain death in attempting to aid these unhappy travellers; I have not wished that you, who are not concerned in it, should share these perils."
"Pardon, master," quickly interrupted the young man, "let us resume the question. I do not condemn or approve your project. You wish to put it into execution—very well. This is your desire, and I shall not discuss the point with you."
"Come then, since this is the case; but I leave to you to prove that I used no constraint with you."
"Certainly, my master, and whatever happens, be convinced that no reproach shall come from my lips."
A longer conversation became useless between the two men. They understood each other. Notwithstanding the hurricane, they quitted the tambo, followed by the gauchos.
Thanks to the incline of the path, and to its width at the spot where it debouched into the valley, the injury caused by the avalanche, although very great, was not irreparable. That which the travellers could not attempt, because of the precarious situation in which they found themselves placed, the four men, by uniting their forces, had hopes of being able to accomplish; that is to say, that after three or four hours' very painful work, they were certain of re-establishing a provisionary passage—solid enough, however, for the horses and beasts of burden to venture on.
They set themselves immediately to work, notwithstanding the efforts of the tempest, then in all its force, but of which the squalls, broken by the mountains, had not that intensity as on the road.
"While you work here to re-establish the passage," said Tyro, "I will go and occupy myself in taking care to warn the travellers whom we would save."
Without waiting for an answer, the Indian left.
We have shown how his appeals had been heard, and had moved Zeno Cabral to attempt a last effort.
When the partisan found himself at last upon firm earth, his first movement was to thank God for his marvellous deliverance; then tendering his hand to Emile, who, at the first glance, he perceived to be the master of those who had brought succour to him:
"Thank you, señor," he said; "thanks to you, I am saved; but there are other unhappy ones."
"I know it, caballero," interrupted the young man. "A numerous troop of travellers are at this moment still exposed to terrible danger; with the aid of God, we shall save them."
"You believe so?" joyously cried the partisan.
"I hope so, at all events, señor: for several hours already my companions and myself have been working. Come; your aid will not be useless."
Zeno Cabral followed him with readiness.
He gave utterance to a cry of joy, on perceiving the bridge which the painter bad succeeded in throwing from one side to the other of the gulf.
The work was nearly finished; the plank alone remained to establish. This was the affair of half an hour.
"Do you think, now," asked the young man, "that your companions will risk themselves on this bridge?"
"Oh, that will be only play to them," responded the partisan.
"Cross the bridge, then; clear a passage through the ruins left by the avalanche. Then, arrived on the other side, you will only have to open in the earth heaped up on the rock a trench enough for a passage of a horse."
"Will you not come with me?"
"What's the good? Better that you should go alone. Our sudden presence would cause great surprise among your friends."
"That's reasonable; in the fainting state in which they are, perhaps that would cause serious consequences. Au revoir, then, and to our speedy meeting."
The young man took the hand of the Frenchman a last time, and set out on the bridge, which he traversed in a minute.
Meanwhile the Pincheyras, who had had a moment's hope when they had seen Don Zeno Cabral, with such skill and such cool bravery, launch himself into the precipice to attempt to find a passage, suddenly felt that hope extinguished in their hearts, when all of a sudden the tree on which the adventurous young man was holding rolled into the abyss.
In vain Don Pablo, whose indomitable courage had not been cast down by this terrible blow, attempted at several times, now in chiding, then in exciting them, to galvanise his companions, and to awaken in them a spark of bravery. All was useless; the instinct of self-preservation, the last sentiment which stands in the human heart, and which supports it in the most horrible crises, was extinct in their hearts.
Don Pablo, disheartened by this torpor into which the soldiers had fallen, and acknowledging the impossibility of raising them from it, crouched at the foot of the barricade, and there, his arms crossed over his chest, awaited death.
The tempest had sensibly diminished; the sky had cleared up; the wind only blew in gusts, and the fog, as it dissipated, permitted them to descry the landscape, which presented so many features injured by the storm, and the desolate aspect of which, if it were possible, added more to the horror of the situation in which the travellers were.
"We must have done with this," murmured Don Pablo; "since these brutes are incapable of helping us, and as terror paralyses them, I will leave them, if it must be so, to their fate; but, as I hope for heaven. I swear I will save these two unfortunate ladies."
Whilst speaking thus, the partisan raised himself, and, throwing around him a last look, he prepared to go to the ladies, who were lying in a fainting state.
On a sudden the branches of the barricade, pushed back by a vigorous hand, separated rudely behind him, and Don Zeno leaped into the path. At sight of him a total change took place in the troop. At the sight of Zeno Cabral, whom they believed to be dead, the partisans leaped up as though stricken by an electric shock, and hope, re-entering their breasts, gave them back all their courage.
Don Pablo had no occasion to order them to set themselves to work; they rushed on the barricade with a desperate ardour, and in less than a half-hour every obstacle had disappeared. The earth, the rocks, the very trees were thrown into the gulf, with the partisans' cries of joy exciting one another to see who should do the most work.
The horses and the mules, held by the bridle by their masters, crossed the bridge without much difficulty,