On the Pampas; Or, The Young SettlersHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
General
On the Pampas; Or, The Young Settlers
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Pampas (Argentina) -- Juvenile fiction
Charley and Hubert turned toward each other, and burst into tears
of thankfulness and joy. The suspense had been almost too much for
them, and Hubert felt so sick and faint that he was forced to lie
down for awhile, while Charley went forward to the others. He was
terribly shocked at the discovery of the murder of the entire
party, as they had cherished the hope that Mrs. Mercer at least
would have been carried off. As, however, she had been murdered,
while it was pretty evident that Ethel had been spared, or her body
would have been found with the others, it was supposed that poor
Mrs. Mercer had been shot accidentally, perhaps in the endeavor to
save her children.
The bodies were now taken from the ditch, and laid side by side
until the other settlers should arrive. It was not long before they
began to assemble, riding up in little groups of twos and threes.
Rage and indignation were upon all their faces at the sight of the
devastated house, and their feelings were redoubled when they found
that the whole of the family, who were so justly liked and
esteemed, were dead. The Edwards and the Jamiesons were among the
earliest arrivals, bringing the Gaucho Martinez with them. Perez,
too, shortly after arrived from Canterbury, he having been out on
the farm when his master left.
Although all these events have taken some time to relate, it was
still early in the day. The news had arrived at six, and the
messengers were sent off half an hour later. The Hardys had set out
before eight, and had reached the scene of the catastrophe in half
an hour. It was nine o'clock when the bodies were found, and half
an hour after this friends began to assemble. By ten o'clock a
dozen more had arrived, and several more could be seen in the
distance coming along at full gallop to the spot.
"I think," Mr. Hardy said, "that we had better employ ourselves,
until the others arrive, in burying the remains of our poor
friends."
There was a general murmur of assent, and all separated to look for
tools. Two or three spades were found thrown down in the garden,
where a party had been at work the other day. And then all looked
to Mr. Hardy.
"I think," he said, "we cannot do better than lay them where their
house stood. The place will never be the site of another
habitation. Any one who may buy the property would choose another
place for his house than the scene of this awful tragedy. The gate
once locked, the fence will keep out animals for very many years."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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