The White Chief: A Legend of Northern Mexico. Reid Mayne

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СКАЧАТЬ brink of the zequia, and drawn back on his haunches, with head erect, starting eyeballs, and open smoking nostrils, formed a noble picture to look upon. Several, however, by way of contrast, gave the crowd a ludicrous picture to laugh at. These were either faint-hearted riders, who stopped short before arriving near the bank, or bold but unskilful ones, who overshot the mark, and went plunge into the deep muddy water. Either class of failure was hailed by groans and laughter, which the appearance of the half-drowned and dripping cavaliers, as they weltered out on the bank, rendered almost continuous. On the other hand, a well-executed manoeuvre elicited vivas of applause.

      No wonder that, under such a system of training and emulation, these people are the finest riders in the world, and such they certainly are.

      It was observed that Carlos the cibolero took no part in this game. What could be the reason? His friends alleged that he looked upon it as unworthy of him. He had already exhibited a skill in horsemanship of a superior kind, and to take part in this would be seeking a superfluous triumph. Such was in fact the feeling of Carlos.

      But the chagrined Comandante had other views. Captain Roblado as well – for the latter had seen, or fancied he had seen, a strange expression in the eyes of Catalina at each fresh triumph of the cibolero. The two “militarios” had designs of their own. Base ones they were, and intended for the humiliation of Carlos. Approaching him, they inquired why he had not attempted the last feat.

      “I did not think it worth while,” answered the cibolero, in a modest tone.

      “Ho!” cried Roblado, tauntingly; “my good fellow. You must have other reasons than that. It is not so contemptible a feat to rein up on the edge of that ‘zanca.’ You fear a ducking, I fancy?”

      This was uttered in a tone of banter, loud enough for all to hear; and Captain Roblado wound up his speech with a jeering laugh.

      Now, it was just this ducking that the militarios wished to see. They had conceived hopes, that, if Carlos attempted the feat, some accident, such as the slipping or stumbling of his horse, might lead to that result; which to them would have been as grateful as it would have been mortifying to the cibolero. A man floundering out of a muddy ditch, and drenched to the skin, however daring the attempt that led to it, would cut but a sorry figure in the eyes of a holiday crowd; and in such a situation did they wish to see Carlos placed.

      Whether the cibolero suspected their object did not appear. His reply does not show. When it was heard, the “zequia” and its muddy water were at once forgotten. A feat of greater interest occupied the attention of the spectators.

      Chapter Five

      Carlos, seated in his saddle, was silent for a while. He seemed puzzled for a reply. The manner of the two officers, as well as Roblado’s speech, stung him. To have proceeded to the performance of this very common feat after all others had given over, merely on the banter of Roblado and the Comandante, would have been vexatious enough; and yet to refuse it would lay him open to jeers and insinuations; and, perhaps, this was their design.

      He had reason to suspect some sinister motive. He knew something of both the men – of their public character – he could not otherwise, as they were lords paramount of the place. But of their private character, too, he had some knowledge, and that was far from being to their credit. With regard to Roblado, the cibolero had particular reasons for disliking him– very particular reasons; and but that the former was still ignorant of a certain fact, he had quite as good a reason for reciprocating the dislike. Up to this moment Roblado knew nothing of the cibolero, who for the most part of his time was absent from the valley. Perhaps the officer had never encountered him before, or at all events had never changed words with him. Carlos knew him better; and long ere this encounter, for reasons already hinted at, had regarded him with dislike.

      This feeling was not lessened by the conduct of the officer on the present occasion. On the contrary, the haughty jeering tones fell bitterly upon the ear of the cibolero. He replied, at length, “Captain Roblado, I have said it is not worth my while to perform what a muchachito of ten years old would hardly deem a feat. I would not wrench my horse’s mouth for such a pitiful exhibition as running him up on the edge of that harmless gutter; but if – ”

      “Well, if what?” eagerly inquired Roblado, taking advantage of the pause, and half suspecting Carlos’ design.

      “If you feel disposed to risk a doubloon – I am but a poor hunter, and cannot place more – I shall attempt what a muchachito of ten years would consider a feat perhaps.”

      “And what may that be, Señor Cibolero?” asked the officer, sneeringly.

      “I will check my horse at full gallop on the brow of yonder cliff!”

      “Within two lengths from the brow?”

      “Within two lengths – less – the same distance that is traced here on the banks of the zequia!”

      The surprise created by this announcement held the bystanders for some moments in silence. It was a proposal of such wild and reckless daring that it was difficult to believe that the maker of it was in earnest. Even the two officers were for a moment staggered by it, and inclined to fancy the cibolero was not serious but mocking them.

      The cliff to which Carlos had pointed was part of the bluff that hemmed in the valley. It was a sort of promontory, however, that jutted out from the general line, so as to be a conspicuous object from the plain below. Its brow was of equal height with the rest of the precipice, of which it was a part – a sort of buttress – and the grassy turf that appeared along its edge was but the continuation of the upper plateau. Its front to the valley was vertical, without terrace or ledge, although horizontal seams traversing its face showed a stratification of lime and sandstone alternating with each other. From the sward upon the valley to the brow above the height was one thousand feet sheer. To gaze up to it was a trial to delicate nerves – to look down put the stoutest to the proof.

      Such was the cliff upon whose edge the cibolero proposed to rein up his steed. No wonder the proposal was received with a surprise that caused a momentary silence in the crowd. When that passed, voices were heard exclaiming, – “Impossible!”

      “He is mad!”

      “Pah! he’s joking!”

      “Esta burlando los militarios!” (He’s mocking the military gents); and such-like expressions.

      Carlos sat playing with his bridle-rein, and waiting for a reply.

      He had not long to wait. Vizcarra and Roblado muttered some hasty words between themselves; and then, with an eagerness of manner, Roblado cried out —

      “I accept the wager!”

      “And I another onza!” added the Comandante.

      “Señores,” said Carlos, with an air of apparent regret, “I am sorry I cannot take both. This doubloon is all I have in the world; and it’s not likely I could borrow another just now.”

      As he said this Carlos regarded the crowd with a smile, but many of these were in no humour for smiling. They were really awed by the terrible fate which they believed awaited the reckless cibolero. A voice, however, answered him: —

      “Twenty onzas, Carlos, for any other purpose. But I cannot encourage this mad project.”

      It was the young ranchero, his former backer, who spoke.

      “Thank you, Don Juan,” replied the cibolero. “I know you would lend them. СКАЧАТЬ