“While on her way to Mendoza over the Pequena pass she was betrayed by her escort of Carreras’ men, and given up to the officer in command of a Chilian fort on the upland at the foot of the main Cordillera range. This atrocious transaction might have cost me dear, for as a matter of fact I was a prisoner in Gaspar Ruiz’ camp when he received the news. I had been captured during a reconnaissance, my escort of a few troopers being speared by the Indians of his bodyguard8. I was saved from the same fate because he recognised my features just in time. No doubt my friends thought I was dead, and I would not have given much for my life at any time. But the strong man treated me very well, because, he said, I had always believed in his innocence9 and had tried to serve him when he was a victim of injustice10.
“‘And now,’ was his speech to me, ‘you shall see that I always speak the truth. You are safe.’
“I did not think I was very safe when I was called up to go to him one night. He paced up and down like a wild beast, exclaiming, ‘Betrayed! Betrayed!’
“‘Will that give your wife back to you?’ I said as quietly as I could.
“‘And the child!’ he yelled out, as if mad. He fell into a chair and laughed in a frightful12, boisterous13 manner. ‘Oh, no, you are safe.’
“I assured him that his wife’s life was safe too; but I did not say what I was convinced of—that he would never see her again. He wanted war to the death, and the war could only end with his death.
“He gave me a strange, inexplicable14 look, and sat muttering blankly. ‘In their hands. In their hands.’
“I kept as still as a mouse before a cat. Suddenly he jumped up. ‘What am I doing here?’ he cried; and opening the door, he yelled out orders to saddle and mount. ‘What is it?’ he stammered15, coming up to me. ‘The Pequena fort; a fort of palisades! Nothing. I would get her back if she were hidden in the very heart of the mountain.’ He amazed me by adding, with an effort: ‘I carried her off in my two arms while the earth trembled. And the child at least is mine. She at least is mine!’
“Those were bizarre words; but I had no time for wonder.
“‘You shall go with me;’ he said violently. ‘I may want to parley16, and any other messenger from Ruiz, the outlaw17, would have his throat cut.’
“This was true enough. Between him and the rest of incensed18 mankind there could be no communication, according to the customs of honour-able warfare19.
“In less than half an hour we were in the saddle, flying wildly through the night. He had only an escort of twenty men at his quarters, but would not wait for more. He sent, however, messengers to Peneleo, the Indian chief then ranging in the foothills, directing him to bring his warriors20 to the uplands and meet him at the lake called the Eye of Water, near whose shores the frontier fort of Pequena was built.
“We crossed the lowlands with that untired rapidity of movement which had made Gaspar Ruiz’ raids so famous. We followed the lower valleys up to their precipitous heads. The ride was not without its dangers. A cornice road on a perpendicular21 wall of basalt wound itself around a buttressing22 rock, and at last we emerged from the gloom of a deep gorge23 upon the upland of Peeña.
“It was a plain of green wiry grass and thin flowering bushes; but high above our heads patches of snow hung in the folds and crevices24 of the great walls of rock. The little lake was as round as a staring eye. The garrison25 of the fort were just driving in their small herd26 of cattle when we appeared. Then the great wooden gates swung to, and that four-square enclosure of broad blackened stakes pointed27 at the top and barely hiding the grass roofs of the huts inside, seemed deserted28, empty, without a single soul.
“But when summoned to surrender, by a man who at Gaspar Ruiz’ order rode fearlessly forward, those inside answered by a volley which rolled him and his horse over. I heard Ruiz by my side grind his teeth. ‘It does not matter,’ he said. ‘Now you go.’
“Torn and faded as its rags were, the vestiges29 of my uniform were recognised, and I was allowed to approach within speaking distance; and then I had to wait, because a voice clamouring through a loophole with joy and astonishment30 would not allow me to place a word. It was the voice of Major Pajol, an old friend. He, like my other comrades, had thought me killed a long time ago.
“‘Put spurs to your horse, man!’ he yelled, in the greatest excitement; ‘we will swing the gate open for you.’
“‘To him!’ he shouted, with infinite disgust.’
“‘He promises you your life.’
“‘Our life is our own. And do you, Santierra, advise us to surrender to that rastrero?’
“‘No!’ I shouted. ‘But he wants his wife and child, and he can cut you off from water.’
“‘Then she would be the first to suffer. You may tell him that. Look here—this is all nonsense: we shall dash out and capture you.
“‘You shall not catch me alive,’ I said firmly.
“‘Imbecile!’
“‘For God’s sake,’ I continued hastily, ‘do not open the gate.’ And I pointed at the multitude of Peneleo’s Indians who covered the shores of the lake.
“I had never seen so many of these savages32 together. Their lances seemed as numerous as stalks of grass. Their hoarse34 voices made a vast, inarticulate sound like the murmur35 of the sea.
“My friend Pajol was swearing to himself. ‘Well, then—go to the devil!’ he shouted, exasperated36. But as I swung round he repented37, for I heard him say hurriedly, ‘Shoot the fool’s horse before he gets away.
“He had good marksmen. Two shots rang out, and in the very act of turning my horse staggered, fell and lay still as if struck by lightning. I had my feet out of the stirrups and rolled clear of him; but I did not attempt to rise. Neither dared they rush out to drag me in.
“The masses of Indians had begun to move upon the fort. They rode up in squadrons, trailing their long chusos; then dismounted out of musket-shot, and, throwing off their fur mantles39, advanced naked to the attack, stamping their feet and shouting in cadence40. A sheet of flame ran three times along the face of the fort without checking their steady march. They crowded right up to the very stakes, flourishing their broad knives. But this palisade was not fastened together with hide lashings in the usual way, but with long iron nails, which they could not cut. Dismayed at the failure of their usual method of forcing an entrance, the heathen, who had marched so steadily41 against the musketry fire, broke and fled under the volleys of the besieged42.
“Directly they had passed me on their advance I got up and rejoined Gaspar Ruiz on a low ridge43 which jutted44 out upon the plain. The musketry of his own men had covered the attack, but now at a sign from him a trumpet45 sounded the ‘Cease fire.’ Together we looked in silence at the hopeless rout46 of the savages.
“But what sort of siege could it be? Without any need for me to repeat my friend Pajol’s message, he dared not cut the water off from the besieged. They had plenty of meat. And, indeed, if they had been short, he would have been too anxious to send food into the stockade48 had he been able. But, as a matter of fact, it was we on the plain who were beginning to feel the pinch of hunger.
“Peneleo, the Indian chief, sat by our fire folded in his ample mantle38 of guanaco skins. He was an athletic49 savage33, with an enormous square shock head of hair resembling a straw beehive in shape and size, and with grave, surly, much-lined features. In his broken Spanish he repeated, growling50 like a bad-tempered51 wild beast, that if an opening ever so small were made in the stockade his men would march in and get the senora—not otherwise.
“Gaspar Ruiz, sitting opposite him, kept his eyes fixed52 on the fort night and day as it were, in awful silence and immobility. Meantime, by runners from the lowlands that arrived nearly every day, we heard of the defeat of one of his lieutenants53 in the Maipu valley. Scouts54 sent afar brought news of a column of infantry55 advancing through distant passes to the relief of the fort. They were slow, but we could trace their toilful progress up the lower valleys. I wondered why Ruiz did not march to attack and destroy this threatening force, in some wild gorge fit for an ambuscade, in accordance with his genius for guerrilla warfare. But his genius seemed to have abandoned him to his despair.
“It was obvious to me that he could not tear himself away from the sight of the fort. I protest to you, senores, that I was moved almost to pity by the sight of this powerless strong man sitting on the ridge, indifferent to sun, to rain, to cold, to wind; with his hands clasped round his legs and his chin resting on his knees, gazing—gazing—gazing.
“And the fort he kept his eyes fastened on was as still and silent as himself. The garrison gave no sign of life. They did not even answer the desultory56 fire directed at the loopholes.
“One night, as I strolled past him, he, without changing his attitude, spoke57 to me unexpectedly ‘I have sent for a gun,’ he said. ‘I shall have time to get her back and retreat before your Robles manages to crawl up here.’
“He had sent for a gun to the plains.
“It was long in coming, but at last it came. It was a seven-pounder field-gun. Dismounted and lashed58 crosswise to two long poles, it had been carried up the narrow paths between two mules59 with ease. His wild cry of exultation60 at daybreak when he saw the gun escort emerge from the valley rings in my ears now.
“But, senores, I have no words to depict61 his amazement62, his fury, his despair and distraction63, when he heard that the animal loaded with the gun-carriage had, during the last night march, somehow or other tumbled down a precipice64. He broke into menaces of death and torture against the escort. I kept out of his way all that day, lying behind some bushes, and wondering what he would do now. Retreat was left for him; but he could not retreat.
“I saw below me his artillerist65 Jorge, an old Spanish soldier, building up a sort of structure with heaped-up saddles. The gun, ready-loaded was lifted on to that, but in the act of firing the whole thing collapsed66 and the shot flew high above the stockade.
“Nothing more was attempted. One of the ammunition67 mules had been lost too, and they had no more than six shots to fire; amply enough to batter68 down the gate, providing the gun was well laid. This was impossible without it being properly mounted. There was no time nor means to construct a carriage. Already every moment I expected to hear Robles’ bugle-calls echo amongst the crags.
“Peneleo, wandering about uneasily, draped in his skins, sat down for a moment near me growling his usual tale.
“‘Make an entrada—a hole. If make a hole, bueno. If not make a hole, them vamos—we must go away.’
“After sunset I observed with surprise the Indians making preparations as if for another assault. Their lines stood ranged in the shadows mountains. On the plain in front of the fort gate I saw a group of men swaying about in the same place.
“I walked down the ridge disregarded. The moonlight in the clear air of the uplands was as bright as day, but the intense shadows confused my sight, and I could not make out what they were doing. I heard voice Jorge, artillerist, say in a queer, doubtful tone, ‘It is loaded, senores.’
“Then another voice in that group pronounced firmly the words, ‘Bring the riata here.’ It was the voice of Gaspar Ruiz.
“A silence fell, in which the popping shots of the besieged garrison rang out sharply. They too had observed the group. But the distance was too great, and in the spatter of spent musket-balls cutting up the ground, the group opened, closed, swayed, giving me a glimpse of busy stooping figures in its midst. I drew nearer, doubting whether this was a weird69 vision, a suggestive and insensate dream.
“Then the stifled voice said: ‘Like this. I must be free to breathe.’
“Then there was a concerned noise of many men together. ‘Help him up, hombres. Steady! Under the other arm.’
“That deadened voice, ordered: ‘Bueno! Stand away from me, men.’
“I pushed my way through the recoiling75 circle, and heard once more that same oppressed voice saying earnestly: ‘Forget that I am a living man, Jorge. Forget me altogether, and think of what you have to do.’
“‘Be without fear, senor. You are nothing to me but a gun carriage, and I shall not waste a shot.’
“I heard the spluttering of a port-fire, and smelt76 the saltpetre of the match. I saw suddenly before me a nondescript shape on all fours like a beast, but with a man’s head drooping77 below a tubular projection78 over the nape of the neck, and the gleam of a rounded mass of bronze on its back.
“In front of a silent semicircle of men it squatted79 alone with Jorge behind it and a trumpeter motionless, his trumpet in his hand, by its side.
“Jorge, bent80 double, muttered, port-fire in hand: ‘An inch to the left, senor. Too much. So. Now, if you let yourself down a little by letting your elbows bend, I will...’
“He leaped aside, lowering his port-fire, and a burst of flame darted81 out of the muzzle82 of the gun lashed on the man’s back.
“Then Gaspar Ruiz lowered himself slowly. ‘Good shot?’ he asked.
“‘Full on, senor.’
“‘Then load again.’
“He lay there before me on his breast under the darkly glittering bronze of his monstrous83 burden, such as no love or strength of man had ever had to bear in the lamentable84 history of the world. His arms were spread out, and he resembled a prostrate85 penitent86 on the moonlit ground.
“Again I saw him raised to his hands and knees, and the men stand away from him, and old Jorge stoop, glancing along the gun.
“‘Left a little. Right an inch. Por Dios, senor, stop this trembling. Where is your strength?’
“The old gunner’s voice was cracked with emotion. He stepped aside, and quick as lightning brought the spark to the touch-hole.
“‘Excellent!’ he cried tearfully; but Gaspar Ruiz lay for a long time silent, flattened87 on the ground.
“‘I am tired,’ he murmured at last. ‘Will another shot do it?’
“‘Without doubt,’ said Jorge, bending down to his ear.
“‘Then—load,’ I heard him utter distinctly. ‘Trumpeter!’
“‘I am here, senor, ready for your word.’
“‘Blow a blast at this word that shall be heard from one end of Chile to the other,’ he said, in an extraordinarily88 strong voice. ‘And you others stand ready to cut this accursed riata, for then will be the time for me to lead you in your rush. Now raise me up, and, you, Jorge—be quick with your aim.’
“The rattle89 of musketry from the fort nearly drowned his voice. The palisade was wreathed in smoke and flame.
“‘Exert your force forward against the recoil74, mi amo,’ said the old gunner shakily. ‘Dig your fingers into the ground. So. Now!’
“A cry of exultation escaped him after the shot. The trumpeter raised his trumpet nearly to his lips, and waited. But no word came from the prostrate man. I fell on one knee, and heard all he had to say then.
“‘Something broken,’ he whispered, lifting his head a little, and turning his eyes towards me in his hopelessly crushed attitude.
“‘The gate hangs only by the splinters,’ yelled Jorge.
“Gaspar Ruiz tried to speak, but his voice died out in his throat, and I helped to roll the gun off his broken back. He was insensible.
“I kept my lips shut, of course. The signal for the Indians to attack was never given. Instead, the bugle-calls of the relieving force, for which my ears had thirsted so long, burst out, terrifying like the call of the Last Day to our surprised enemies.
“A tornado90, senores, a real hurricane of stampeded men, wild horses, mounted Indians, swept over me as I cowered91 on the ground by the side of Gaspar Ruiz, still stretched out on his face in the shape of a cross. Peneleo, galloping92 for life, jabbed at me with his long chuso in passing—for the sake of old acquaintance, I suppose. How I escaped the flying lead is more difficult to explain. Venturing to rise on my knees too soon, some soldiers of the 17th Taltal regiment93, in their hurry to get at something alive, nearly bayonetted me on the spot. They looked very disappointed too when some officers galloping up drove them away with the flat of their swords.
“It was General Robles with his staff. He wanted badly to make some prisoners. He, too, seemed disappointed for a moment. ‘What? Is it you?’ he cried. But he dismounted at once to embrace me, for he was an old friend of my family. I pointed to the body at our feet, and said only these two words:
“‘Gaspar Ruiz.’
“He threw his arms up in astonishment.
“‘Aha! Your strong man! Always to the last with your strong man. No matter. He saved our lives when the earth trembled enough to make the bravest faint with fear. I was frightened out of my wits. But he—no! Que guape! Where’s the hero who got the best of him? Ha! ha! ha! What killed him, chico?’
“‘His own strength general,’ I answered.”
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1
guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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2
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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3
traitors
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| 卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 )； 叛徒； 背叛者； 背信弃义的人 | |
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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aspired
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| v.渴望，追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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nefarious
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| adj.恶毒的，极坏的 | |
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propitiate
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| v.慰解，劝解 | |
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bodyguard
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| n.护卫，保镖 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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10
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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12
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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14
inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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15
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16
parley
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| n.谈判 | |
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17
outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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18
incensed
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| 盛怒的 | |
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warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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buttressing
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| v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的现在分词 ) | |
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gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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crevices
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| n.（尤指岩石的）裂缝，缺口( crevice的名词复数 ) | |
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garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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vestiges
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| 残余部分( vestige的名词复数 )； 遗迹； 痕迹； 毫不 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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39
mantles
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| vt.&vi.覆盖（mantle的第三人称单数形式） | |
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40
cadence
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| n.（说话声调的）抑扬顿挫 | |
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41
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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42
besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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44
jutted
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| v.（使）突出( jut的过去式和过去分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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45
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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46
rout
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| n.溃退，溃败；v.击溃，打垮 | |
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47
wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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48
stockade
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| n.栅栏，围栏；v.用栅栏防护 | |
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49
athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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50
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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51
bad-tempered
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| adj.脾气坏的 | |
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52
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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53
lieutenants
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| n.陆军中尉( lieutenant的名词复数 )；副职官员；空军；仅低于…官阶的官员 | |
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54
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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55
infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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56
desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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57
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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58
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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depict
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| vt.描画，描绘；描写，描述 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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artillerist
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| 炮手，炮兵，炮术家 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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batter
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| v.接连重击；磨损；n.牛奶面糊；击球员 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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hitches
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| 暂时的困难或问题( hitch的名词复数 )； 意外障碍； 急拉； 绳套 | |
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awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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recoiling
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| v.畏缩( recoil的现在分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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projection
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| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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tornado
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| n.飓风，龙卷风 | |
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cowered
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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