The Buccaneer Chief: A Romance of the Spanish Main

CHAPTER XXVIII
THE FLIGHT FROM THE HATTO

Without taking the time to peruse the letters that were handed him, Don Sancho concealed them in his doublet, and proceeded hastily to his sister's apartment.

She was anxiously awaiting him.

"Here you are at last, brother," she exclaimed on perceiving him.

"What," the young man replied, as he kissed her hand, "were you expecting me?"

"Oh, yes, that I was; but you are very late – what has kept you so long?" she asked, in agitation.

"Where have I been? Why, s'death! I have been hunting, the only pleasure allowed a gentleman in this horrible country."

"What, at this hour?"

"Zounds, my dear Clara, a man gets home when he can, especially in this country, where we ought to feel very happy at reaching home again at all."

"You are speaking in enigmas, brother, and I do not at all understand you; be kind enough, therefore, to explain yourself clearly – have you fallen into bad company?"

"Yes, and very bad, too; but forgive me, my dear Clara, if you have no objection, let us proceed regularly. You desired to see me immediately on my return, and here I am at your orders; be kind enough, therefore, to tell me how I can possibly be of service to you, and then I will narrate the series of singular events with which my today's sport has been diversified. I will not hide from you that I have certain questions to ask of you, and certain explanations, which I feel sure you will not refuse to give me."

"What do you mean, Sancho?"

"Nothing at present; do you speak first, sister."

"Well, if you insist on it – "

"I do not insist at all, sister – I only request it."

"Very good, I yield to your request; I have received several letters."

"So I have; but I confess that I have not read them yet, and do not think they are of any great importance."

"I have read mine, and do you know what they tell me beside other news?"

"Indeed, no, unless it be my appointment to the post of Alcade Mayor of Hispaniola, which, I allow, would greatly surprise me," he said, laughingly.

"Do not jest so, Sancho; the matter is very serious."

"Really? In that case speak, little sister. You see I have as solemn a face as your dear husband."

"It is exactly to him I refer."

"Stuff! My brother-in-law? Has any accident happened to him in the performance of his noble and wearisome duties?"

"No, on the contrary, he is in better health than usual."

"In that case, all the better for him; I wish him no harm, though he is the most fastidious gentleman of my acquaintance."

"Will you listen to me – yes or no?" she asked, impatiently.

"Why, I am doing so, dear sister."

"You are really insupportable."

"Come, do not be angry – I have done; I will not laugh anymore."

"Have you seen the two Fifties encamped in front of the hatto?"

"Yes, and I must allow that I was greatly surprised to see them."

"You will be much more surprised on hearing that my husband is coming here."

"He? Impossible, sister! He did not say a word to me about the journey."

"Because it is secret."

"Ah, ah!" the young man remarked, with a frown; "And are you sure that he is coming?"

"Certain. The person who writes me so was present at his departure, which no one suspects; the courier who brought me the news, and to whom the greatest diligence was recommended, is only a few hours ahead of him."

"This is, indeed, serious," the young man muttered.

"What is to be done?"

"S'death!" the young man replied, carelessly, but gazing fixedly at Doña Clara – "Welcome him."

"Oh!" the lady exclaimed, twisting her hands despairingly, "I have been betrayed – he is coming to avenge himself!"

"Avenge himself? For what, sister?"

She gave him a look of strange significance, and then bent over him.

"I am ruined, brother," she said, in a hollow voice, "for this man knows everything, and will kill me."

Don Sancho, in spite of himself, was affected by this sorrow; he adored his sister, and felt ashamed of the part he was playing at this moment before her.

"And I, too, Clara," he said to her, "know everything."

"You! Oh, you are jesting, brother."

"No, I am not; I love you, and wish to save you, even if I gave my life to do so: hence, reassure yourself, and do not fix upon me eyes haggard with grief."

"What do you know, in heaven's name?"

"I know that which probably a traitor, as you called him, has sold to your husband, that is to say, that you left the hatto, went aboard a vessel, which conveyed you to Nevis, and there – "

"Oh! Not a word more, brother," she exclaimed as she fell into his arms; "you are really well informed, but I swear to you, brother, in the name of what is most sacred in the world, that, although appearances condemn me, I am innocent."

"I know it, sister, and never doubted it; what is your intention, will you await your husband here?"

"Never, never! Did I not tell you he would kill me?"

"What is to be done then?"

"Fly, fly without delay; at once."

"But where shall we go?"

"How do I know? To the cliff or the forest, live among the wild beasts sooner than remain any longer here."

"Very good, we will go, I know where to take you."

"You?"

"Yes, did I not tell you that sundry accidents happened to me today while hunting?"

"So you did; but what has that to do with it?"

"A great deal," he interrupted; "the Major-domo, who accompanied me, and I tumbled over an encampment of filibusters."

"Ah," she said, turning paler than she had been before.

"Yes, and I intend to conduct you to that encampment; besides, one of the buccaneers entrusted me with a message for you."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I am saying, sister."

She appeared to reflect for an instant, and then turned resolutely to the young man.

"Well, be it so, brother, let us go to those men, though they are represented as so cruel; perhaps every human feeling has not been extinguished in their hearts, and they will take pity on me."

"When shall we go?"

"As speedily as possible."

"That is true, but the hatto is probably watched and the soldiers have doubtless secret orders, you may be a prisoner without suspecting it, my poor sister; for what other reason would the two Fifties be here?"

"Oh! In that case I am lost."

"Perhaps there is one way, and the orders given doubtless only affect you; but unfortunately the journey will be long, fatiguing, and beset with numberless perils."

"What matter, brother? I am strong, do not be anxious about me."

"Very good, we will try; you are absolutely determined on flight?"

"Yes, whatever may befall me."

"Well then, we will put our trust in heaven, wait for me a moment."

The young man left the room and returned a few minutes later, bearing a rather large bundle under his arm.

"Here are my page's clothes, I do not know how they happen to be in my possession, but my valet probably placed them in my portmanteau by mistake, for they are new, and I remember that the tailor brought them home a few minutes before my departure from Saint Domingo, but I thank accident for causing it to be so. Dress yourself, wrap yourself up in a cloak, put this hat on your head, I will answer for everything. Besides, this costume is preferable to your woman's clothes for crossing the savannah; mind and not forget to place these pistols and this dagger in your belt, for there is no knowing what may happen."

"Thanks brother! I shall be ready in a quarter of an hour."

"Good; during that time I will go and reconnoitre; do not open the door to anyone but me."

"You may depend upon me."

The young man lit a cigarette and left the apartment with the most careless air he could assume.

On entering the zaguán, the Count found himself face to face with the Major-domo. Señor Birbomono had such an anxious look that it did not escape Don Sancho; still he continued to advance, pretending not to notice it.

But the Major-domo came straight up to him.

"I am glad to meet you, Excellency," he said, "if you had not come within ten minutes, I should have knocked at the door of your apartment."

"Ah!" Don Sancho observed, "What pressing motive was there to urge you to such a step?"

"Is your Excellency aware of what is taking place?" the Major-domo continued, without appearing to notice the young man's ironical tone.

"What! Is there really anything happening?"

"Does not your Excellency know it?"

"Probably not, as I ask you; after all, as the news, I am sure, interests me but very slightly, you are quite at liberty not to tell it to me."

"On the contrary, Excellency, it interests you as well as all the inhabitants of the hatto."

"Oh! oh! What is it then?"

"It appears that the commander of the two Fifties, has placed sentries all round the hatto."

"Very good, in that case, we need not fear being attacked by the buccaneers, of whom you are so afraid, and I will thank the commandant for it."

"You are at liberty to do so, Excellency, but I fancy you will find it difficult."

"Why so?"

"Because orders are given to let anyone enter the hatto but nobody leave it."

A shudder ran through the young man's veins on hearing this; he turned frightfully pale, but recovering himself almost immediately, remarked carelessly,

"Stuff! that order cannot affect me."

"Pardon me, Excellency, it is general."

"In that case, you think that, if I tried to go out – "

"You would be stopped."

"Confound it, that is very annoying, not that I have any intention of going out, but as by my character, I am very fond of doing things which are prohibited – "

"You would like to take a walk, I suppose, Excellency?"

Don Sancho looked at Birbomono, as if trying to read his thoughts.

"And suppose such were my intention?" he resumed presently.

"I would undertake to get you out."

"You?"

"Yes, I; am I not the Major-domo of the hatto?"

"That is true; thus, the prohibition does not extend to you?"

"To me, as to the rest, Excellency; but the soldiers do not know the hatto as I know; I could Slip between their fingers, whenever I liked."

"I have strong inclination to try it."

"Do so, Excellency; I have three horses at a spot where no one but myself could find them."

"Why, three horses?" the young man asked, pricking up his ears.

"Because, doubtless, you do not wish to ride with me only, but will take someone with you."

Don Sancho, understanding that the Major-domo had penetrated his thoughts, made up his mind at once.

"Let us play fairly," he said, "can you be faithful."

"I am so, and devoted too, Excellency, as you have a proof."

"What assures me that you are not laying a trap for me?"

"With what object?"

"That of obtaining a reward from the Count."

"No, Excellency, no reward would induce me to betray my mistress; I may be anything you please, but I love Doña Clara, who has always been kind to me, and has often protected me."

"I am willing to believe you, and indeed have no time to discuss the point, but here are my conditions: a bullet through the head if you betray me, a thousand piastres if you are faithful; do you accept them?"

"I do, Excellency, the thousand piastres are gained."

"You know that I do not threaten in vain."

"I know you."

"Very good, what must we do?"

"Follow me, that is all; our flight will be most easy, for I prepared everything on my return; I had my suspicions on seeing those demons of soldiers, suspicions which were soon changed into certainty, after some skilful inquiries here and there; my devotion to my mistress rendered me clear sighted, and you see that I acted wisely in taking my precautions."

The accent with which the Major-domo pronounced these words, had such a stamp of truth, his face was so frank and open, that the young Count's last suspicions were dissipated.

"Wait for me," he said, "I will go and fetch my sister."

And he hurried away.

"Oh!" said Birbomono, with a grin, so soon as he was alone, "I do not know whether Señor don Stenio de Bejar will be pleased at seeing his wife escape in this way, when he felt so certain of holding her; poor señora! She is so good to us all, that it would be infamous to betray her, and then, after all, this is a good deed which brings me one thousand piastres," he added, rubbing his hands, "that is a very decent amount."

It was about eleven o'clock at night, all the lights in the hatto were extinguished by orders of the Major-domo, who had provided for everything; the slaves had been dismissed to their huts, and a solemn silence brooded over the landscape, a silence solely interrupted at regular intervals, by the sentries who challenged each other in a monotonous voice.

Don Sancho soon returned, accompanied by his sister, wrapped up like himself, in a long mantle.

Doña Clara did not speak, but on joining the Major-domo, she gracefully held out her right hand to him, on which he respectfully impressed his lips.

Although the officers had told the soldiers to keep a good guard, and watch carefully, not only the hatto, but its environs, the latter, slightly reassured by the darkness on one hand, and on the other, by the gloomy and mysterious depths of the forests that surrounded them, stood motionless behind the trees, contenting themselves with responding to the challenge, every half hour, but not venturing to go even a few yards from the shelter they had chosen.

The reasons for this apparent cowardice, were simple, and although we have explained them, we will repeat them here, for the sake of greater clearness.

In the early times of the buccaneers landing on Saint Domingo, the Fifties sent by the governor in pursuit of them, were armed with muskets; but after several encounters with the French, in which the latter gave them an awful thrashing, their terror of the adventurers became so great that, whenever they were sent on an expedition against these men, whom they almost regarded as demons, no sooner did they enter the forests, or the mountain gorges, or even the savannahs, where they might suppose the buccaneers to be ambushed, than they began to fire their pieces right and left, for the purpose of warning the enemies, and inducing them to withdraw.

The result of this clever manoeuvre was that the adventurers, thus warned, decamped in reality, and thus became intangible; the governor noticing this result, eventually guessed its cause, and hence, in order to avoid such a thing in future, he took the muskets away from the soldiers and substituted lances. This change, let us hasten to add, was not at all to the liking of these brave soldiers, who thus saw their ingenious scheme foiled, and were even more exposed to the blows of their formidable enemies.

It was almost without being obliged to take any other precaution than that of walking noiselessly and not speaking, that the Major-domo and the two persons he served as guide, succeeded in quitting the hatto on the opposite side to that on which the Fifties had established their bivouac.

Once the line of sentries was passed, the fugitives hurried on more rapidly, and soon reached a thicket in the midst of which three fully accoutred horses were so thoroughly hidden that unless known to be there, it would have been impossible to find them; for a greater precaution, and to prevent them from neighing, the Major-domo had fastened a cord round their nostrils.

So soon as the three were mounted, and before starting, Birbomono turned to Don Sancho, —

"Where are we going, Excellency?" he asked.

"Do you know the spot where the buccaneers we met today are bivouacked?" the young man replied.

"Yes, Excellency."

"Do you think you could succeed in finding the bivouac in the midst of the darkness?"

The Major-domo smiled.

"Nothing is more easy," he said.

"In that case lead us to those men."

"Very good; but, Excellency, be good enough not press your horse on at present, for we are still near the house, and the slightest imprudence would be sufficient to give an alarm."

"Do you think, then, that they would venture to pursue us?"

"Separately, certainly not; but as they are so numerous, they would not hesitate; the less so, because from what I heard them say, they feel certain that the buccaneers have never come into these parts. This redoubles their bravery, and they would perhaps not be sorry to furnish a proof of it at our expense."

"Excellent reasoning; regulate our pace, therefore, as you think proper, and we will only act in accordance with your judgment."

They set out; with the exception of the precautions they were obliged to take not to be discovered, the journey had nothing disagreeable about it, on a bright and perfumed night, beneath a sky studded with brilliant stars, and in the midst of a most delightful scenery, whose slightest diversities the transparency of the atmosphere allowed to be seen.

After an hour spent in a moderate trot, their pace became insensibly more rapid, and the horses growing gradually more excited, eventually broke into a gallop, at which their riders kept them for a considerable period.

Doña Clara bent over her horse's neck, and with her eyes eagerly fixed ahead, seemed to upbraid the slowness of this ride, which, however, had assumed the headlong speed of a pursuit: at times she leant over to her brother, who constantly kept by her side, and asked him in a choking voice —

"Shall we soon arrive?"

"Yes, have patience, sister," the young man said, suppressing a sigh of pity for the agony which preyed on his sister's heart.

And their pace grew more rapid than ever.

The stars were already expiring in the heavens, the atmosphere was growing refreshed, the horizon was striped by long mother-o'-pearl coloured bands, a light sea breeze brought up to the travellers its alkaline odours, and the night had passed. Suddenly, at the moment when the three riders were about to emerge from a thick wood, in which they had been following a track made by the wild cattle for nearly an hour, the Major-domo, who was a few yards ahead, pulled up his horse and leant back.

"Stop, in Heaven's name!" he exclaimed, in a low voice.

The young couple obeyed, though they did not comprehend this order.

The Major-domo went up to them.

"Look!" he muttered, and stretched out his arm toward the savannah.

A rapid gallop, that drew nearer every second, but which the noise of their own march had prevented them from hearing, now smote their ears, and almost at the same moment they saw through the screen of foliage which hid them from sight, several horsemen pass as if borne along by a hurricane.

A branch struck off the hat of one of the riders as he passed.

"Don Stenio!" Doña Clara exclaimed in horror.

"Zounds!" Don Sancho said, "We were just in time."

CHAPTER XXIX
EVENTS ACCUMULATE

The horsemen had continued their wild course without perceiving the fugitives: one of them, indeed, at the cry uttered by Doña Clara, had made a gesture as if to stop his steed, but doubtless supposing that he had been mistaken, he followed his companions after a moment's hesitation, which was very fortunate for him, as Don Sancho had already drawn a pistol, with the resolution of blowing out his brains.

For some minutes the fugitives remained motionless, anxiously listening to the galloping of the horses, whose sound rapidly retired, and was soon lost in the distance, when it became confounded with the other noises of the night.

Then they breathed again, and Don Sancho put back in his holster the pistol which he had held in his hand up to this moment.

"Hum!" he muttered; "Only the thickness of a bush saved us from being discovered."

"Heaven be thanked!" Doña Clara said; "We are saved!"

"That is to say, my little sister, we are not caught," the young man replied, incapable of maintaining his seriousness for five minutes, however grave circumstances might be.

"They are going at a tremendous pace," the Major-domo now remarked; "we have nothing more to fear from them."

"In that case, let us be off," Don Sancho replied.

"Yes, yes, let us go," Doña Clara murmured.

They dashed out of the thicket which had offered them so sure a protection, and entered the plain.

The sky became lighter every moment; and although the sun was still beneath the horizon, its influence was beginning to be felt. Nature appeared to shake off her nocturnal sleep; some birds were already awake under the soft leaves, and preluding, by soft twittering, their matin chant; the dark outlines of savage animals bounded through the tall dew-laden grass; and the birds of prey, expanding their mighty wings, rose high in æther, as if they wished to go and meet the sun, and salute its advent: in a word, it was no longer night, without being fully day.

"Ah! What I do see at the foot of that mound?" Don Sancho suddenly said.

"Where?" Birbomono asked.

"There, straight in front of us."

The Major-domo placed his hands over his eyes, and looked attentively.

"¡Viva Dios!" he exclaimed, at the end of a moment, "It is a man!"

"A man?"

"On my word, yes, Excellency; and, as far as I can distinguish at this distance, a Carib savage."

"Zounds! What is he doing on that mound?"

"We shall be able to assure ourselves of that more easily directly, unless he thinks proper to keep out of our way."

"Well, let us go to him, in Heaven's name."

"Brother," Doña Clara objected, "what is the use of lengthening our journey, when we are so hurried?"

"That is true," the young man said.

"Reassure yourself, señora," the Major-domo observed; "that hillock is exactly on the road we must follow, and we cannot help passing it."

Doña Clara said no more, and the trio set out again.

They soon reached the mound, which they ascended at a gallop.

The Carib had not quitted the spot, but the riders stopped in stupor on perceiving that he was not alone.

The Indian, kneeling on the ground, appearing to be attending to a man stretched out before him, and who was beginning to regain his senses.

"Fray Arsenio!" Doña Clara exclaimed at the sight of this man. "Great Heavens! He is dead!"

"No," the Indian answered in a gentle voice, as he turned to her, "but he has been most horribly tortured."

"He! Tortured?" his hearers exclaimed, unanimously.

"Look at his hands," the Carib continued.

The Spaniards uttered a cry of horror and pity at the sight of the poor monk's bleeding and swollen thumbs.

"Oh, it is frightful!" they murmured, sadly.

"Wretch," Don Sancho said in his indignation, "you have brought him to this state!"

The Carib shrugged his shoulders disdainfully.

"The paleface is mad!" he replied; "My brothers do not torture the chiefs of prayer – they respect them. White men, like himself, have inflicted this atrocious punishment upon him."

"Explain yourself, in Heaven's name," Doña Clara continued; "how is it that we find this worthy monk here in such a pitiable state?"

"It will be better to let him explain himself when he has regained his senses. Omopoua knows but little."

"That is true," Doña Clara said, as she dismounted and knelt by the side of the wounded man. "Poor fellow! What frightful suffering he must be enduring."

"Can you not tell us anything, then?" Don Sancho asked.

"Almost nothing," the chief replied, "this is all that I know."

And he narrated in what way the monk had been confided to him, and how he had served as his guide, till they met the white men, when the monk discharged him for the purpose of joining them.

"But," he added, "I know not why, some secret foreboding seemed to warn me not to leave him: hence, instead of going away I hid myself in the shrubs, and witnessed, unseen, the tortures they had him undergo, while insisting on his revealing to them a secret, which he refused to divulge. Conquered by his constancy, they at length abandoned him half dead. Then I rushed from my hiding place, and flew to his help. That is all I know; I am a chief, I have no forked tongue, and a falsehood has never sullied the lips of Omopoua."

"Forgive me, Chief, the improper language I used at the first moment; I was blinded by anger and sorrow," said Don Sancho, holding out his hand.

"The paleface is young," the chief replied with a smile; "his tongue moves more quickly than his heart;" then he took the hand so frankly offered him, and pressed it cordially.

"Oh, oh!" the Major-domo said, with a shake of his head, and leaning over to Don Sancho's ear, "If I am not greatly mistaken, Don Stenio is mixed up in this affair."

"It is not possible," Don Sancho replied, with horror.

"You do not know your brother-in-law, Excellency; his is a weak nature, and all such are cruel; believe me, I am certain of what I state."

"No, no, it would be too frightful."

"Good Heaven," Doña Clara said, at this moment, "we cannot remain here any longer, and yet I should not like to abandon the poor man."

"Let us take him with us," Don Sancho quickly remarked.

"But will his wounds permit him to endure the fatigue of a long ride?"

"We are almost at our journey's end," the Major-domo said, and then, turning to the Carib, added —

"We are going to the bivouac of the two buccaneers, who were hunting on the savannah yesterday."

"Very good;" said the chief, "I will lead the palefaces by a narrow road, and they will arrive ere the sun reaches the edges of the horizon."

Doña Clara and her brother remounted. The monk was cautiously placed in front of the Major-domo, and the small party set out again at a foot pace, under the guidance of the Carib chief.

Poor Fray Arsenio gave no other signs of existence but deep sighs, which at intervals heaved his chest, and stifled groans torn from him by suffering.

At the end of three quarters of an hour they reached the boucan, by the near cut, which Omopoua indicated to them.

It was empty, but not deserted, as was proved by the bull hides, still stretched out on the ground, and held down by pegs, and the boucaned meat suspended from the forks of the branches.

The adventurers were probably away, hunting.

The travellers were considerably annoyed by this contretemps, but Omopoua relieved them of their embarrassment.

"The palefaces need not be anxious," he said, "the chief will warn his friends, the white franiis– in their absence the paler faces can use, without fear, everything they find here."

And, joining example to precept, the Carib prepared a bed of dry leaves, which he covered with skins, and, with the Major-domo's aid, carefully laid the wounded man upon it; then he lit a fire, and after, for the last time repeating to the fugitives the assurance that they had nothing to fear, he went off, gliding like a snake through the tall grass.

The Major-domo, who was tolerably well acquainted with the manners of the adventurers, with whom he had had some relations, though always against his will, for, brave though he was, or boasted of being, they inspired him with a superstitious terror – reassured the others as to their position, by declaring to them, that hospitality was so sacred with the buccaneers, that, if they were their most inveterate foes instead of quasi guests, as they had only come on their formal invitation, they would have nothing to apprehend from them.

In the meanwhile, thanks to the attention which Doña Clara had not ceased to bestow on him, the poor monk had returned to his senses. Although very weak at first, he gradually regained sufficient strength to impart to Doña Clara all that happened to him since their separation. This narration, whose conclusion coincided in the minutest details with that previously made by the Carib, plunged Doña Clara into a state of stupefaction, which soon changed into horror, when she reflected on the terrible dangers that menaced her.

In truth, what help could she expect? Who would dare to protect her against her husband, whose high position and omnipotence would annihilate every effort she might make to escape from his vengeance.

"Courage," the monk murmured, with a tender commiseration, "courage, my daughter, above man there is God. Have confidence in Him; He will not abandon you: and if everything fail you, He will come to your assistance, and interfere in your favour."

Doña Clara, in spite of her perfect faith in the power of Providence, only replied to this consolation by tears and sobs; she felt herself condemned.

Don Sancho was hurriedly walking up and down in the front of the ajoupa, twisting his moustache, stamping his foot passionately, and revolving in his head the maddest projects.

"Bah," he muttered, at last, "if that demon will not listen to reason, I will blow out his brains, and that will settle everything."

And highly pleased at having, after so many vain researches, discovered this expeditious mode of saving his sister from the violence, which the desire of vengeance would probably suggest to Don Stenio, the young man lit a cigarette, and patiently awaited the return of the buccaneers, feeling now quite calm and perfectly reassured about the future.

The Major-domo, who was almost indifferent as to what was going on around him, and delighted with the hope of the promised thousand piastres, had turned the time to a good use. Reflecting that on their return, the buccaneers, doubtless, would not be sorry to find their breakfast ready, he had placed in front of the fire an iron pot, in which he placed an enormous lump of meat, to boil, with a reasonable quantity of water; in lieu of bread, he had thrust several ignamas under the ashes, and then busied himself with preparing the pimentado, that absolutely necessary sauce for every buccaneer meal.

The fugitives had held possession of the boucan for nearly an hour and a half, when they heard furious barking, and some twenty dogs rushed howling toward them: but a sharp, though still distant whistle recalled them, and they went off again as quickly as they had come.

A few minutes later, the Spaniards perceived the two buccaneers; they were running up with a surprising speed, although both bore a load weighing upwards of a hundredweight, and were in addition embarrassed by their weapons and hunting equipment.

Their first care, on arriving at the boucan, was to throw on the ground the eight or ten fresh bull hides, till reeking with blood and grease, which they brought, and they then advanced toward the strangers, who, on their side, had risen to receive them.

The dogs, as if they had understood that they must maintain a strict neutrality, were lying on the grass, but kept their flashing eyes fixed on the Spaniards, probably ready to spring at their throat upon the first signal.