The Bee Hunters: A Tale of Adventure

His name was Don Leoncio de Ribera.

His companion, of the same size and figure, and endowed with the same manners, formed, nevertheless, a perfect contrast to Don Leoncio.

His soft blue eyes; the thick curls of blonde hair, which escaped in large masses from under his Panama hat, and flowed in disorder on his shoulders; the cream-coloured skin, which contrasted with the olive and slightly bronzed complexion of Don Leoncio, – seemed to indicate that he was not born under the burning sun of South America. Yet this cavalier could proudly claim, even more than the latter, the quality of a veritable hijo del país6 since he descended in a direct line from the brave and unhappy Tupac Amaru, the last Inca, so basely assassinated by the Spaniards.

He was called Manco Amaru, Diego de Solis y Villas Reales; and we beg our reader's pardon for this litany of names.

Don Diego de Solis concealed the courage of the lion under the effeminacy of a woman, and nerves of steel under the skin of his soft white hands.

As to the third cavalier, who kept himself modestly retired behind the others, he had wrapped himself up so carefully in the voluminous folds of his poncho, and the rim of his hat was so well pulled down over his countenance, that is was impossible to distinguish any part of him except two large black eyes, which flashed forth flames of fire. His small size, delicate limbs, and a certain soft smoothness about his movements, would lead one to suppose that he was still a youth, if this masculine attire did not conceal a woman, which seemed more probable.

However that may be, no sooner did the corporal find himself in the presence of the persons we have described, than there was a complete metamorphosis in his whole appearance. His rough and fierce demeanour was exchanged for a flattering obsequiousness, denoting complete devotedness; and his countenance lost its mocking expression, to take that of decided pleasure.

Don Leoncio had difficulty in moderating the outbursts of foolish joy to which the soldier gave vent, with the unconstraint of a man who at length enjoys a happiness he has long been vainly expecting.

"There, there, Luco," said he; "be calm. You see it is I. There, there; be moderate, muchacho this is not the time for outpourings of affection."

"It is true, mi amo" (my master); "but I am so happy to see you again after such a length of time," and he brushed away the tears which rolled down his bronzed cheeks.

Don Leoncio felt deeply moved by the affection of his old servant, and replied:

"Thanks, Luco; you are indeed a good and trusty fellow."

"And yet, in spite of the happiness I feel in seeing you once more, I wish you had not returned at such an unlucky moment. Mi amo, the times are bad; the tyrant is more powerful than ever in Buenos Aires."

"I know. Unfortunately, I could not postpone my journey, in spite of the perils to which I should be exposed."

"¡Válgame Dios, señor! This is a terrible life we are now leading."

"What is to be done? We must all take our share of the unavoidable. Are my orders fulfilled?"

"Yes, all, mi amo: your brother is forewarned. Unluckily, I could not go myself to inform him: I was forced to send a guacho, of whom I knew little. But do not be uneasy, señor; your brother will not fail to be here in a few hours."

"Good; but you seem to have come here in considerable numbers."

"Alas, it could not be helped; I am so spied after, mi amo. I was obliged to use the most extraordinary efforts to induce the lieutenant to bring so few."

"We had very nearly run into his arms."

"Yes; and I was in a dreadful fright at the moment, for I had recognised you already, señor: God knows what would have happened had you met."

"And now, is this lieutenant to be trusted?"

Luco shook his head sorrowfully.

"He! Mi amo, take heed. He is one of the most ferocious mashorqueras of that evil dog Rosas."

"The devil he is!" said Don Leoncio, with a troubled look. "I fear, my poor Luco, your too great confidence has led us into a hornet's nest, out of which we shall have some trouble to escape safe and sound."

"It is a difficult case – I will not attempt to deny it. You must be very cautious, and let no one strike your trail. The principal thing is to gain time."

"True," said Don Leoncio, plunging into a reverie.

"How many are there of you?" said Don Diego, mixing in the conversation for the first time.

"Thirty-five, counting the lieutenant, señor; but he is a devil incarnate, and counts for four at least."

"Pooh!" replied Don Diego carelessly, while he stroked his blonde moustache; "we are seven when we count you, my good fellow."

"Who is this lieutenant?"

"Don Torribio, formerly a guacho."

"Oh," said Don Leoncio, disgusted, "Torribio Degüello!" (literally, Torribio the Butcher).

"¡Voto a brios!" replied Don Diego; "How I should like to plant my knee on the breast of that wretch! Well, what are we to do?"

"You forget who is with us," said Don Leoncio, quickly, casting a glance at the motionless figure behind.

"It is true," said the young man; "I am mad. Forgive me, friend; we cannot be too cautious."

"It is lucky," observed Luco, "that you have not brought Doña Antonia with you. Poor dear niña! she would die here, were she exposed to the devils in whose midst we are."

All of a sudden before Don Leoncio had time to reply, a horrible clamour arose in the rancho, several shots were heard, and a score of men and women, frantic with fear, rushed into the open with shouts of terror, and dispersed in all directions.

"Hide yourselves!" cried Luco. "Good God! What can this mean? I will be back directly; but, for God's sake, do not let them see you. Farewell for a time! I must go and see what is the matter."

Leaving Don Leoncio and his companions in dreadful anxiety, the corporal ran towards the house, where the tumult was increasing every minute.

CHAPTER XVII

A DELICATE FEDERAL ATTENTION

We will run before the corporal, in order to explain to the reader what had happened in the rancho.

At first everything went off well. After the first moment of distrust and fear, the muleteers and wagoners, involuntarily submitting to the influence of their favourite pastime, had utterly forgotten their apprehensions, and fraternised with the soldiers. The aguardiente went round uninterruptedly from one end of the room to the other; the merriment increased in proportion to the draughts, which, by frequent repetition, began to heat the brains of the drinkers, among whom the first symptoms of drunkenness were showing themselves here and here.

Nevertheless the lieutenant, Don Torribio, his eyes sparkling and his countenance excited, continued to sing, to torture the guitar, and specially to drink, without any signs of meditated evil; and perhaps all might have ended well, but for an incident which suddenly changed the aspect of things, and turned a scene of joy into a spectacle of terror.

One of the best and most brilliant dancers of the zambacueca was a young muleteer of from twenty to twenty-five, with fine and intelligent features, well-knit figure, and easy manner, who distinguished himself greatly by the lightness and grace of his dancing. The women crowded round him, cast the most killing looks at him, and applauded extravagantly the eccentric steps it was his pleasure to execute.

Among these females were two, both girls of sixteen, radiant with the beauty peculiar to South America, and which finds no equivalent in Europe. The black eyes, shaded by long silken lashes; the mouth, with lips red as the fruit of the chirimoya (Mexican pear); the face, slightly bronzed by the heat of a tropical sun, over which fell the long tresses of bluish-black hair; the rounded figure, supple and slender; the wavy movements, full of inimitable grace; all these charms united constituted that intoxicating and voluptuous kind of beauty, which it is impossible to analyse, but of which the most frigid mortal cannot resist the magnetic influence and fascinating spell.

These two females made themselves conspicuous by the exuberant praises they showered on the object of their predilection. The latter, we must do him the justice to say, seemed to take very little notice of the enthusiasm he excited. He was a good fellow, whose heart, if not his head, was perfectly free; who danced for dancing's sake, because it pleased him, and because the rough life he led rarely afforded an opportunity for enjoying his favourite amusement; moreover, he was totally indifferent about inspiring either one or the other of his admirers with any kind of passion whatever. The two latter, although with a woman's innate instinct they understood his indifference, and were secretly hurt at it, nevertheless continued to lavish on him the most passionate expressions of admiration of which the Spanish language is capable, as a means of evincing the interest they took in his proceedings.

These demonstrations grew at last so lively and pointed, that the greater number of the men present – who would each, in his secret heart, have given a good deal for the preference of either of these beautiful creatures – began, as is generally the case, to hate the muleteer for the indifference he displayed, and to upbraid him for serious want of politeness and unpardonable ignorance of good manners, in showing no gratitude for such enthusiastic praise.

The muleteer, embarrassed by the position in which he had involuntarily been placed while he was only laudably endeavouring to amuse himself, and compelled, as we may say, by his companions' murmurs of disapprobation, to re-establish his impugned reputation for courtesy, decided on finding some means or other of withdrawing honourably from his disagreeable situation, and with that purpose determined to ask the two girls to dance with him one after the other.

Full of these good intentions, as soon as the lieutenant – who had temporarily interrupted his inharmonious strumming to help himself to an immense goblet of aguardiente– began to rattle a fresh zambacueca on his guitar, the arriero advanced with a smile on his lips, and graciously saluted the two girls.

"Señorita," said he, to the one who chance to bed nearest, "will you make me happy by dancing this zambacueca with your humble servant?"

The girl, all rosy with delight at what she imagined the preference of the handsome dancer, was coming forward with outstretched hand, and beginning to reply, when suddenly her companion, who had turned pale on hearing the arriero's invitation, bounded between them like a tigress, and, with trembling lips and flaming eyes, confronted the young couple.

"You shall not dance together!" she cried in menacing tones.

The spectators of this extraordinary and unexpected scene recoiled in amazement: they were unable to comprehend this sudden burst of anger. The two would-be dancers exchanged looks of astonishment.

The situation grew intolerable, and the arriero determined to put an end to it.

The second girl was still standing right in front of him, her figure slightly thrown back, and firmly planted on her feet, her head erect, her cheeks inflamed, her nostrils quivering like those of a wild beast, and her arm extended in an attitude of menace and defiance.

The arriero took a step forward, and made a very respectful bow to the damsel.

"Señorita," said he, "allow me to remark – "

"Calle Vd. la boca" (hold your tongue), "Don Pablo!" she angrily exclaimed, interrupting him in the middle of his speech; "I have nothing to say against you; but look at this chola sin vergüenza" (shameless hussy), "who, knowing you to be the best dancer in the rancho, wants to monopolise you for her own benefit."

On hearing the insult her companion had thus boldly cast in her teeth, the other damsel hastily shook off Don Pablo, and placed herself face to face before her assailant.

"You lie, Manonga!" cried she: "It is jealousy that made you utter these words; you are furious at the preference with which this caballero honours me."

"I!" said the other disdainfully; "You are a fool, Clarita; I care no more for the caballero than for a sour orange."

"Indeed!" sneered Clarita; "Then, pray what may be the reason of this sudden fury?"

"Because," sharply retorted Manonga, "I have known you for a long time; you want a lesson, and I am going to give you one."

"You, indeed!" said the other, shrugging her shoulders; "Take care lest you get one yourself!"

"Ojalá; add another word, and, by my soul, I will knife you!"

"Pooh! you don't even know how to handle a navaja" (knife).

"A ver;" (we will see), shouted Manonga, beside herself with rage; and, bounding back, she drew a knife from her bosom, wrapped her rebozo (veil) round her left arm, and threw herself on guard.

"A ver;" screamed Clarita, echoing the words, and taking up her position with the same celerity as her adversary.

A duel between the two girls was imminent.

Don Pablo, the innocent cause of this combat, had several times vainly tried to mediate between the two females. Neither one nor the other would listen to his speech, nor attend to his remonstrances. When matters had reached this point, he wanted to make a fresh effort: but this time he was more sharply repulsed than before; for the bystanders, interested in the dispute, and infinitely attracted by the longing to see a duel with knives between two women, turned against him, and peremptorily bade him be quiet, and leave the niñas (darlings) to amuse themselves as they thought fit.

The arriero, thoroughly satisfied that he could wash his hands of the consequences, and whose good nature alone had induced him to attempt to prevent an explosion, saw that his mediation was looked upon with an unfavourable eye, so thought he had said his say; and, folding his arms, prepared to be, if not an indifferent, at least a disinterested spectator of the coming struggle.

It was, indeed, a singular and striking spectacle to see, in this dimly lighted room, amidst the crowd of strange costumes, these two girls, fiercely and resolutely standing two paces apart, ready to come to knife thrusts, while the music and the dance continued as if nothing was the matter, while the aguardiente was poured forth in floods, and while the merriest and maddest songs were shouted out around them.

"¡Vaya pués!" (now for the sport!) cried Clarita: "With how many inches do we fight, querida?" (my darling).

"With the whole length of the blade, alma mía" (my soul), answered Manonga; "I mean to leave my handwriting on your face!"

"Ah, puñaladas! We shall see. Are you ready, my dear?"

"As soon as you like, my pet!"

A ring was formed round the damsels, who, with bodies bent forward, left arms extended, and eye watching eye, waited, with feline impatience, for a propitious moment to rush upon each other.

They seemed well matched, both being young, active, and full of nerve. The connoisseurs in those matters, of whom there were many in the attentive crowd of bystanders, could form no opinion on the result of the combat, which threatened, for the matter of that, to be desperate, such flashes of ire sparkled from the wild eyes of the duellists.

After a moment or two of hesitation, or more properly speaking of gathering themselves up, Clarita and Manonga began to clack their tongues against their palates, producing a series of sharp smacking sounds; their blue gleaming knives glittered, and they darted upon each other.

But if the attack was lively, the defence and the parry was not less so. Both simultaneously bounded back, and fell into guard again. Each stroke had told; the battle had begun bravely, and either combatant had her face furrowed by a bleeding double cut. Neither one nor the other had predicted falsely: each bore the handwriting of the other on her countenance. The bystanders trembled with joy and admiration: never before had they been spectators of such a splendid navajada.

After taking breath for a while, the damsels were preparing to recommence the fight, this time with the determined purpose of making the bout decisive, when, all of a sudden, the ranks of the onlookers were shouldered right and left, and a man resolutely thrust himself between the two adversaries, and confronted them with a look of scorn.

"Hearken, demonios!" he cried in a sharp tone, and with accents of indescribable mockery.

The two women lowered their knives, and stood motionless, with eyes abashed, but head erect, their foreheads frowning, and preserving their attitude – the haughty expression of two foes who long to tear each other to pieces, and unwillingly succumb to commands, which they dare not disobey, though they curse them.

In spite of the deafening uproar the federalist lieutenant made with his guitar, he could not help hearing, at last, what was going on in the room. At the first impulse, he had placed his hand on the pistols which hung at his girdle; but an instant afterwards his anger grew, not calm, but cold and concentrated, instead of furious.

Don Torribio had risen from his seat, left the bench on which he sat enthroned, and furtively approached the combatants. He had attentively watched the different phases of the fight, and when he thought proper to interfere, had suddenly interposed between the duellists.

The soldiers had silently advanced behind their officer; they were now close at his heels, their hands on their weapons, ready for action at the first signal, foreseeing that Don Torribio's interference in this quarrel would speedily bring about another, in which they would have to take part.

Intuitively, the ring formed by the arrieros and wagoners had extended itself, and a large space was left open in the middle of the room. The two girls stood in the centre of the circle, knife in hand; and the lieutenant, with his arms crossed, amused himself by examining them narrowly, with a cynical sneer on his lips.

"Holloa, my chickens!" said he; "What! Are you ruffling your feathers for a cock? Is there only one on the perch? ¡Rayo de Dios! What splendid St. Andrew's crosses you have dug in each other's faces! Are you both mad for love of this pícaro?" (ragamuffin).

Neither spoke; and the lieutenant continued his sarcastic speech:

"But where is this valiant champion, who lets the women fight for him? Does his modesty make him hide himself?"

Don Pablo came forward, looked the lieutenant straight in the face, and answered firmly: "Here I am."

"Aha!" said Don Torribio, staring at him for some time; "You are in truth a handsome fellow. I do not wonder at their passion for you."

The arriero remained mute, fully understanding the irony of the compliment.

"There, niñas," the lieutenant went on speaking to the damsels, "which of you is the chosen one of this breaker of hearts? ¡Mil rayos! Speak out!"

There was an interval of silence.

"Oh, that is it!" resumed Don Torribio; "You do not exactly know. Come, young fellow, do you speak, and tell me which of the two you prefer."

"I have no preference for either," said the arriero coolly.

"¡Caramba!" exclaimed the lieutenant, with pretended admiration; "que gusto" (what good taste.) "So I am to understand you love them both alike?"

"No; you are mistaken, señor. I love neither one nor the other."

"¡Rayas pués! That is a puzzler; and yet you let them fight for you. That is conduct worthy of chastisement, my master! As that is the case, I shall reconcile you two señoritas, and give a lesson to the discourteous caballero who flouts at the power of your black eyes. Upon my soul, such an insult calls for vengeance."

The spectators of the scene felt their hearts sink within them, while the soldiers laughed and jested among themselves.

On pronouncing his last words, the lieutenant drew a pistol from his belt, cocked it, and presented the muzzle at the breast of the arriero, who, motionless as ever, had made no gesture to escape the fate that threatened him.

But the two girls were roused. With the velocity of thought, they both at once threw themselves before him.

Manonga felt her breast pierced by the ball. "Alas!" she cried; "You despise me! What does it matter? I die for you! Clarita, I forgive you!"

Don Pablo bounded over the body of the luckless wretch, whose dying eyes still sought his, and threw himself, knife in hand, on the lieutenant. The latter hurled his heavy pistol at his head; but the arriero avoided the weapon, seized the officer round the body, and a deadly fray began. Clarita, with flaming eyes, eagerly watched the struggle between the two, ready to interfere as soon as an opportunity offered in favour of her beloved.

The bystanders were horrified; the dread inspired by the soldiers was so great, that although many more in number, and all armed, they dared not go to the assistance of their comrade.

In the meantime, the soldiers, more than half-drunk, seeing their officer struggling with a stranger, unsheathed their swords, and struck right and left among the crowd, shouting out their dreaded cry:

"¡A degüello! ¡A degüello! los salvajes unitarios" (Death, death to the savage Unitarians!)

Then ensued a scene of horror in the room, which was crowded with human beings.

The arrieros, pursued by the soldiers, who were pitilessly cutting them down, and calling to each other to slay, thronged towards the door to escape impending death. The disorder was at its height; all wanted to escape at once through the too narrow outlet. Made selfish by fear, and in the blind instinct of self-preservation, they stifled each other against the walls, crushed each other underfoot, and struck blindly with their knives, in order to hew themselves a passage through the human barrier that checked them.

Fear, when self-preservation is uppermost, makes man more cruel and cowardly than the wild beasts. That hideous egotism, which lurks at the bottom of the human heart, starts up when its bonds are suddenly broken. Man has then neither parents nor friends; he is deaf to every prayer; and, shutting his eyes, plunges forward with the blind and stupid ferocity of the maddened bull.

Blood soon flowed in torrents, and the victims increased in number, while the fury grew no less; nor did the assailed attempt to defend themselves.

At last the barrier gave way, and the wretches rushed out of doors, flying straight on, without knowing whither, in the sole thought of escaping from the butchery.

At this moment the corporal entered the room. A lamentable spectacle met his eyes: the floor was strewn with dead bodies, and wounded men weltering in their blood.

But he could not restrain a cry of horror when his eyes fell on Don Torribio. The lieutenant was tying the head of Don Pablo, which he had hacked off with his sword, to the long tresses of the fainting Clarita. The officer had been slightly wounded by the girl in the hip and arm, and blood was flowing from his garments.

"There," said he, having finished to his satisfaction the knot that bound Clarita's tresses to the long locks of the arriero; "since she loves him so dearly, when she comes to herself she can admire him at leisure, he is all her own now; no one will take him from her."

Then he looked for a time at the pale and fainting girl, with an expression of lust impossible to describe.

"Pooh!" said he, with a shrug of the shoulders; "Why should I? Let us wait till she opens her eyes. I shall have plenty of time to make love to her; and I want to enjoy her surprise when she wakes up."

And without another look at his victims, he set himself to help his soldiers in the massacre.

The first step he took, he encountered Luco.

"Halloa!" cried he; "where have you been, while we have been cutting up the salvajes unitarios? God take me! Here you come quietly; your sword in the sheath, and not a drop of blood on your clothes! What is the meaning of this conduct, comrade? Are you turned traitor, too, by chance?"