Day had just dawned when I rose to join Mariano at the fire he had already kindled1 to heat the water for his early maté. I did not like the idea of lying there concealed3 amongst the trees like some hunted animal for an indefinite time; moreover, I had been advised by Santa Coloma to proceed directly to the Lomas de Rocha, on the south coast, in the event of a defeat, and this now seemed to me the best thing to do. It had been very pleasant lying there “under the greenwood tree,” while those veracious4 stories of hags, lampalaguas, and apparitions5 had proved highly entertaining; but a long spell, a whole month perhaps, of that kind of life was not to be thought of; and if I did not get to Rocha now, before the rural police were set to catch runaway6 rebels, it would perhaps be impossible to do so later on. I determined7, therefore, to go my own way, and, after drinking bitter maté, I caught and saddled the dun horse. I really had not deserved the severe censure8 Lechuza had passed on me the previous evening in reference to horse-stealing, for I had taken the dun with very little more compunction than one is accustomed to feel in England when “borrowing” an umbrella on a rainy day. To all people in all parts of the world, a time comes when to appropriate their neighbour's goods is held not only justifiable9, but even meritorious10; to Israelites in Egypt, Englishmen under a cloud in their own moist island, and to Orientals running away after a fight. By keeping the dun over thirty hours in my possession I had acquired a kind of prescriptive right to it, and now began to look on it as my very own; subsequent experience of his endurance and other good qualities enables me to endorse11 the Oriental saying that a “stolen horse carries you well.”
Bidding farewell to my companions in defeat, who had certainly not been frightened out of their imaginations, I rode forth12 just when it was beginning to grow light. Roads and houses I studiously avoided, travelling on at an easy gallop13, which took me about ten miles an hour, till noon; then I rested at a small rancho, where I fed and watered my horse and recruited my own energies with roast beef and bitter maté. On again till dark; by that time I had covered about forty miles, and began to feel both hungry and tired. I had passed several ranchos and estancia houses, but was shy of seeking entertainment at any of them, and so went farther, only to fare worse. When the brief twilight14 was darkening to night I came upon a broad cart-track, leading, I suppose, to Montevideo from the eastern part of the country, and, seeing a long, low rancho near it, which I recognized as a pulperia, or store, by the flagstaff planted before it, I resolved to purchase some refreshment15 for myself, then to ride on a mile or two and spend the night under the stars—a safe roof if an airy one. Tying my horse to the gate, I went into the porch-like projection16 at the end of the rancho, which I found divided from the interior by the counter, with its usual grating of thick iron bars to protect the treasures of gin, rum, and comestibles from drunken or quarrelsome customers. As soon as I came into the porch I began to regret having alighted at the place, for there, standing17 at the counter, smoking and drinking, were about a dozen very rough-looking men. Unfortunately for me, they had tied their horses under the shadow of a clump18 of trees some distance from the gate, so that I had missed seeing them on my arrival. Once amongst them, however, my only plan was to disguise my uneasiness, be very polite, get my refreshments19, then make my escape as speedily as possible. They stared rather hard at me, but returned my salutation courteously20; then going to a disengaged corner of the counter, I rested my left elbow on it and called for bread, a box of sardines21, and a tumbler of wine.
“If you will join me, señores, the table is spread,” said I; but they all declined my invitation with thanks, and I began to eat my bread and sardines.
They appeared to be all persons living in the immediate22 neighbourhood, for they addressed each other familiarly and were conversing23 about love matters. One of them, however, soon dropped out of the conversation, and, edging away from the others, stood a little space apart, leaning against the wall on the side of the porch farthest from me. I began to notice this man very particularly, for it was plain to see that I had excited his interest in an extraordinary manner, and I did not like his scrutiny24. He was, without exception, the most murderous-looking villain25 I have ever had the misfortune to meet: that was the deliberate opinion I came to before I formed a closer acquaintance with him. He was a broad-chested, powerful-looking man of medium height; his hands he kept concealed under the large cloth poncho26 he wore, and he had on a slouch hat that just allowed his eyes to be seen under the rim27. They were truculent28, yellowish-green eyes, that seemed to grow fiery29 and dim and fiery again by turns, yet never for a single instant were they averted30 from my face. His black hair hung to his shoulders, and he also had a bristly moustache, which did not conceal2 his brutal31 mouth, nor was there any beard to hide his broad, swarthy jowl. His jaws32 were the only part of him that had any motion, while he stood there, still as a bronze statue, watching me. At intervals33 he ground his teeth, after which he would slap his lips together two or three times, while a slimy froth, most sickening to see, gathered at the corners of his mouth.
“Gandara, you are not drinking,” said one of the gauchos34, turning to him. He shook his head slightly without speaking or taking his eyes off my face; whereupon the man who had spoken smiled and resumed his conversation with the others.
The long, intense, soul-trying scrutiny this brutal wretch35 had subjected me to came to a very sudden end. Quick as lightning a long, broad knife flashed out from its concealment36 under his poncho, and with one cat-like bound he was before me, the point of his horrid37 weapon touching38 my poncho just over the pit of my stomach.
“Do not move, rebel,” he said in a husky voice. “If you move one hair's breadth, that moment you die.”
The other men all ceased talking and looked on with some interest, but did not offer to interfere39 or make any remark.
For one moment I felt as if an electric shock had gone through me, and then instantly I was calm—never, in fact, have I felt more calm and collected than at that terrible moment. 'Tis a blessed instinct of self-preservation which nature has provided us with; feeble, timid men possess it in common with the strong and brave, as weak, persecuted40 wild animals have it as well as those that are fierce and bloodthirsty. It is the calm which comes without call when death suddenly and unexpectedly rises up to stare us in the face; it tells us that there is one faint chance which a premature41 attempt to escape or even a slight agitation42 will destroy.
“I have no wish to move, friend,” I said, “but I am curious to know why you attack me?”
“Because you are a rebel. I have seen you before, you are one of Santa Coloma's officers. Here you shall stand with this knife touching you till you are arrested, or else with this knife in you here you shall die.”
“You are making a mistake,” I said.
“Neighbours,” said he, speaking to the others, but without taking his eyes from my face, “will you tie this man hand and foot while I stand before him to prevent him from drawing any weapon he may have concealed under his poncho?”
“We have not come here to arrest travellers,” returned one of the men. “If he is a rebel it is no concern of ours. Perhaps you are mistaken, Gandara.”
“No, no, I am not mistaken,” he returned. “He shall not escape. I saw him at San Paulo with these eyes—when did they ever deceive me? If you refuse to assist me, then go one of you to the Alcalde's house and tell him to come without delay, while I keep guard here.”
After a little discussion one of the men offered to go and inform the Alcalde. When he had left, I said, “My friend, may I finish my meal? I am hungry, and had just begun to eat when you drew your knife against me.”
“Yes; eat,” he said; “only keep your hands well up so that I can see them. Perhaps you have a weapon at your waist.”
“I have not,” I said, “for I am an inoffensive person and do not require weapons.”
“Tongues were made to lie,” he returned, truly enough. “If I see you drop your hand lower than the counter I shall rip you up. We shall then be able to see whether you digest your food or not.”
I began to eat and sip43 my wine, still with those brutal eyes on my face and the keen knife-point touching my poncho. There was now a ghastly look of horrible excitement on his face, while his teeth-grinding performances became more frequent and the slimy froth dropped continually from the corners of his mouth on to his bosom44. I dared not look at the knife, because a terrible impulse to wrest45 it out of his hands kept rising in me. It was almost too strong to be overcome, yet I knew that even the slightest attempt to escape would be fatal to me; for the fellow was evidently thirsty for my blood and only wanted an excuse to run me through. But what, I thought, if he were to grow tired of waiting, and, carried away by his murderous instincts, to plunge46 his weapon into me? In that case I should die like a dog, without having availed myself of my one chance of escape through over-caution. These thoughts were maddening, still through it all I laboured to observe an outwardly calm demeanour.
My supper was done. I began to feel strangely weak and nervous. My lips grew dry; I was intensely thirsty and longed for more wine, yet dared not take it for fear that in my excited state even a very moderate amount of alcohol might cloud my brain.
“How long will it take your friend to return with the Alcalde?” I asked at length.
Gandara made no reply. “A long time,” said one of the other men. “I, for one, cannot wait till he comes,” and after that he took his departure. One by one they now began to drop away, till only two men besides Gandara remained in the porch. Still that murderous wretch kept before me like a tiger watching its prey47, or rather like a wild boar, gnashing and foaming48, and ready to rip up its adversary49 with horrid tusk50.
At length I made an appeal to him, for I began to despair of the Alcalde coming to deliver me. “Friend,” I said, “if you will allow me to speak, I can convince you that you are mistaken. I am a foreigner, and know nothing about Santa Coloma.”
“No, no,” he interrupted, pressing the knife-point warningly against my stomach, then suddenly withdrawing it as if about to plunge it intome. “I know you are a rebel. If I thought the Alcalde were not coming I would run you through at once and cut your throat afterwards. It is a virtue51 to kill a Blanco traitor52, and if you do not go bound hand and foot from here then here you must die. What, do you dare to say that I did not see you at San Paulo—that you are not an officer of Santa Coloma? Look, rebel, I will swear on this cross that I saw you there.”
Suiting the action to the word, he raised the hilt of the weapon to his lips to kiss the guard, which with the handle formed a cross. That pious53 action was the first slip he had made, and gave the first opportunity that had come to me during all that terrible interview. Before he had ceased speaking, the conviction that my time had come flashed like lightning through my brain. Just as his slimy lips kissed the hilt, my right hand dropped to my side and grasped the handle of my revolver under my poncho. He saw the movement, and very quickly recovered the handle of his knife. In another second of time he would have driven the blade through me; but that second was all I now required. Straight from my waist, and from under my poncho, I fired. His knife fell ringing on to the floor; he swerved54, then fell back, coming to the ground with a heavy thud. Over his falling body I leaped, and almost before he had touched the ground was several yards away, then, wheeling round, I found the other two men rushing out after me.
“Back!” I shouted, covering the foremost of the two with my revolver.
They instantly stood still.
“We are not following you, friend,” said one, “but only wish to get out of the place.”
“Back, or I fire!” I repeated, and then they retreated into the porch. They had stood by unconcerned while their cut-throat comrade Gandara was threatening my life, so that I naturally felt angry with them.
I sprang upon my horse, but, instead of riding away at once, stood for some minutes by the gate watching the two men. They were kneeling by Gandara, one opening his clothes to look for the wound, the other holding a flaring55 candle over his ashen56, corpse-like face.
“Is he dead?” I asked.
One of the men looked up and answered, “It appears so.”
“Then,” I returned, “I make you a present of his carcass.”
Some readers might imagine, after what I had related, that my sojourn58 in the Purple Land had quite brutalised me; I am happy to inform them that it was not so. Whatever a man's individual character may happen to be, he has always a strong inclination59 in him to reply to an attack in the spirit in which it is made. He does not call the person who playfully ridicules60 his foibles a whitened sepulchre or an unspeakable scoundrel, and the same principle holds good when it comes to actual physical fighting. If a French gentleman were to call me out, I daresay I should go to the encounter twirling my moustache, bowing down to the ground, all smiles and compliments; and that I should select my rapier with a pleasant kind of feeling, like that experienced by the satirist61 about to write a brilliant article while picking out a pen with a suitable nib62. On the other hand, if a murderous brute63 with truculent eyes and gnashing teeth attempts to disembowel me with a butcher's knife, the instinct of self-preservation comes out in all its old original ferocity, inspiring the heart with such implacable fury that after spilling his blood I could spurn64 his loathsome65 carcass with my foot. I do not wonder at myself for speaking those savage66 words. That he was past recall seemed certain, yet not a shade of regret did I feel at his death. Joy at the terrible retribution I had been able to inflict67 on the murderous wretch was the only emotion I experienced when galloping68 away into the darkness—such joy that I could have sung and shouted aloud had it not seemed imprudent to indulge in such expression of feeling.
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1
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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veracious
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| adj.诚实可靠的 | |
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apparitions
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| n.特异景象( apparition的名词复数 )；幽灵；鬼；（特异景象等的）出现 | |
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6
runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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7
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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censure
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| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
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9
justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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10
meritorious
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| adj.值得赞赏的 | |
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endorse
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| vt.(支票、汇票等)背书，背署；批注；同意 | |
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12
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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14
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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15
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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16
projection
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| n.发射，计划，突出部分 | |
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17
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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19
refreshments
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| n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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20
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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sardines
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| n. 沙丁鱼 | |
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22
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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24
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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poncho
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| n.斗篷，雨衣 | |
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rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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28
truculent
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| adj.野蛮的，粗野的 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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30
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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32
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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34
gauchos
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| n.南美牧人( gaucho的名词复数 ) | |
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35
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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38
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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39
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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40
persecuted
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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41
premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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42
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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43
sip
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| v.小口地喝，抿，呷；n.一小口的量 | |
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44
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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45
wrest
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| n.扭，拧，猛夺；v.夺取，猛扭，歪曲 | |
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46
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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47
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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48
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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49
adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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50
tusk
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| n.獠牙，长牙，象牙 | |
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51
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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52
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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53
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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54
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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57
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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58
sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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59
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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60
ridicules
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| n.嘲笑( ridicule的名词复数 )；奚落；嘲弄；戏弄v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的第三人称单数 ) | |
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61
satirist
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| n.讽刺诗作者，讽刺家，爱挖苦别人的人 | |
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62
nib
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| n.钢笔尖；尖头 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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64
spurn
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| v.拒绝，摈弃；n.轻视的拒绝；踢开 | |
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65
loathsome
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| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
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66
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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67
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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68
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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