The Border Rifles: A Tale of the Texan WarAimard, Gustave
History
The Border Rifles: A Tale of the Texan War
Aimard, Gustave
Texas -- History -- To 1846 -- Fiction; Western stories
"Who?" she asked, hesitating between the shame of the supposition and
the terror of her dangerous position.
"He," he answered with a grin. "Listen, Carmela; several times already
you have learned more of our business than we liked; I repeat to you
the remark you made a minute ago to the Captain, and try to profit by
it; take care."
"Yes," the second speaker said brutally; "for we might forget that you
are only a child, and make you pay dearly for your treachery."
"Nonsense," the third said, who had hitherto contented himself with
drinking, and taking no part in the conversation; "the law must be equal
for all; if Carmela has betrayed us, she must be punished."
"Well said, Bernardo," Ruperto exclaimed, as he smote the table; "there
are just enough of us to pronounce the sentence."
"Good Heavens!" she screamed, as she freed herself by a sudden effort
from the grasp of the arm which had hitherto held her; "Let me go, let
me go!"
"Stay!" Ruperto shouted as he rose; "If you do not, some misfortune will
happen."
The three men rushed on the maiden, and the latter, half wild with
terror, sought in vain the door of the venta by which to escape.
But, at the moment when the three men laid their rough and horny hands
on her white and delicate shoulders, the door, whose hasp she had been
unable to lift in her terror, was thrown wide open, and a man appeared
on the threshold.
"What is the matter here?" he asked in a harsh voice, as he crossed his
hands on his chest; and he stood motionless, looking round at the
company.
There was such menace in the voice of the new-comer, such a flash shot
from his eyes, that the three terrified men fell back mechanically
against the opposing wall, muttering--"The Jaguar! The Jaguar!"
"Save me! Save me!" the maiden shrieked, as she rushed wildly toward
him.
"Yes," he said in a deep voice; "yes, I will save you, Carmela; woe to
the man who causes a hair of your head to fall."
And softly raising her in his powerful arms, he laid her gently on a
butacca, where she reclined in a half-fainting condition.
The man who appeared so suddenly was still very young; his beardless
face would have seemed that of a child, if his regular features, with
their almost feminine beauty, had not been relieved by two large black
eyes, which possessed a brilliancy and magnetic power that few men felt
themselves capable of enduring.
He was tall, but graceful and elegant, and his chest was wide; his long
hair, black as the raven's wing, fell in clusters beneath his vicuna
hat, which was ornamented with a deep gold toquilla.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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