THE CHASE.
The reader will probably consider that the means employed by Lanzi to
get rid of the Indians were somewhat violent, and that he should not
have had recourse to them save in the utmost extremity.
The justification of the half-breed is as simple as it is easy to give;
the Indian braves, when they cross the Mexican border, indulge
mercilessly in every possible riot, displaying the greatest cruelty
toward the unhappy white men who fall into their hands, and for whom
they testify a hatred which nothing can assuage.
Lanzi's position, alone, without help to expect from anyone, in an
isolated spot, in the power of some fifty demons without faith or law,
was most critical; the more so, as the Apaches, once they had been
excited by strong liquors, the abuse of which causes them a species of
raving madness, would no longer have recognized any restraint; their
sanguinary character would have regained the upper hand, and they would
have indulged in the most unjustifiable cruelty, for the mere pleasure
of making an enemy of their race suffer.
The half-breed had, besides, peremptory reasons for behaving thus; he
must, at all risks, ensure Carmela's safety, whom he had solemnly sworn
to Tranquil to defend, even at the peril of his own life.
In the present case, he knew that his life or death depended solely on
the caprice of the Indians, and hence he was quite reckless.
Lanzi was a cold, positive, and methodical man, who never acted till he
had previously fully weighed the chances of success or failure. Under
present circumstances, the half-breed ran no risk, for he knew that he
was condemned by the Indians beforehand; if his plan succeeded, he might
possibly escape; if not, he could die, but as a brave borderer should
do, taking with him into the tomb a considerable number of his
implacable foes.
His resolution once formed, it was carried out with the coolness we have
described, and, thanks to his presence of mind, he had found time to
leap on his horse and fly.
Still, all was not finished yet, and the galloping the half-breed heard
behind him disturbed him greatly, by proving to him that his plan had
not succeeded so well as he hoped, and that one of his enemies, at any
rate, had escaped, and was on his track.
The half-breed redoubled his speed; he made his horse swerve from the
straight line incessantly, in order to throw out his obstinate pursuer;
but everything was of no avail, and still he heard him galloping behind
him.
However brave a man may be, however great the energy is with which
heaven has endowed him, nothing affects his courage so much as to feel
himself menaced in the darkness by an invisible and unassailable foe;
the obscurity of night, the silence that broods over the desert, the
trees which in his mad race defile on his right and left like a legion
of gloomy and threatening phantoms--all this combines to heighten the
terrors of the hapless man who dashes along under the impression of a
nightmare which is the more horrible, because he is conscious of danger,
and knows not how to exorcise it.
Lanzi, with frowning brow, quivering lips, and forehead bathed with cold
perspiration, rode thus for several hours across country, bowed over his
horse's neck, following no settled course, but constantly pursued by the
dry, sharp sound of the horse galloping after him.
Strangely enough, since he first heard this gallop, it had not appeared
to draw any nearer; it might be thought that the strange horseman,
satisfied with following the trail of the man he pursued, was not
desirous of catching him up.
By degrees the half-breed's excitement calmed: the cold night air
restored a little order to his ideas, his coolness returned, and with it
the necessary clearness to judge of his position soundly.
Lanzi was ashamed of this puerile terror, so unworthy of a man like
himself, which had for so long, through a selfish feeling, caused him to
forget the sacred duty he had taken on himself, of protecting and
defending at the peril of his life his friend's daughter.
At this thought, which struck him like a thunder-bolt, a burning blush
flushed his face, a flash darted from his eyes, and he stopped his horse
short, resolved on finishing once for all with his pursuer.
The horse, suddenly arrested in its stride, uttered a snort of pain, and
remained motionless, at the same instant the galloping of the invisible
steed ceased to be heard.
"Hilloah!" the half-breed muttered, "This is beginning to look ugly."
And drawing a pistol from his belt, he set the hammer. He immediately
heard, like a funeral echo, the sharp sound of another hammer being set
by his adversary.
Still, this sound, instead of increasing the half-breed's apprehensions,
seemed, on the contrary, to calm them.
"What is the meaning of that?" he asked himself, mentally, as he shook
his head, "Can I be mistaken? have I not to deal with an Apache?"
After this aside, during which Lanzi sought in vain to distinguish his
unknown foe, he shouted in a loud voice:--
"Hilloah, who are you?"
"Who are you?" a masculine voice replied, emerging from the darkness, in
a tone quite as resolute as that of the half-breed.
"That's a singular answer," Lanzi went on.
"Not more singular than the question."
These words were exchanged in excellent Spanish. The half-breed, now
certain that he had to deal with a white man, banished all fear, and
uncocking his pistol returned it to his girdle, as he said
good-humouredly:--
"You must feel like myself, Caballero, inclined to draw breath after so
long a ride; shall we rest together?"
"I wish for nothing better," the other answered.
"Why," a voice exclaimed, which the half-breed at once recognised, "it
is Lanzi."
"Certainly," the latter shouted, joyfully, "_Voto à brios_, Doña
Carmela, I did not hope to meet you here."
The three persons joined, and the explanations were short.
Fear does not calculate or reflect. Doña Carmela on one side, Lanzi on
the other, filled with a vague terror, fled without attempting to
account for the feeling that impelled them, exerted only by the instinct
of self-preservation, that supreme weapon given by God to man with which
to escape danger in extremities.
The only difference was, that the half-breed believed himself pursued by
the Apaches, while Doña Carmela supposed them a-head of her.
When the young lady, on Lanzi's recommendation, left the venta, she rode
blindly along the first path that presented itself.
Heaven willed it for her happiness that at the moment the house blew up
with a terrible crash, Doña Carmela, half dead with fear and thrown from
her horse, was found by a white hunter, who, moved with pity at the
recital of the dangers that menaced her, generously offered to escort
her to the Larch-tree hacienda, where she desired to proceed, in order
to place herself under Tranquil's immediate protection.
Doña Carmela, after taking a scrutinizing glance at the hunter, whose
honest look and open face were proofs of his loyalty, gratefully
accepted his offer, fearing, as she did, that she might fall, in the
darkness, among the Indian bands which were doubtless infesting the
roads, and to which her ignorance of localities would have inevitably
made her a prey.
The maiden and her guide set out therefore at once for the hacienda, but
affected by numberless apprehensions, the gallop of the half-breed's
horse made them believe a party of the enemy a-head of them, hence they
had kept far enough behind to be able to turn and fly at the slightest
suspicious movement on the part of their supposed enemies.
This explanation did away with all alarm, and Carmela and Lanzi were
delighted at having met again thus providentially.
While the half-breed was telling his young mistress in what way he had
disposed of the Apaches, the hunter, like a prudent man, had taken the
horses by the bridle and led them into a thick coppice, where he
carefully hid them. He then returned to his new friends, who had seated
themselves on the ground, to enjoy a few moments of welcome rest.
At this moment, when the hunter returned, Lanzi was saying to his
mistress--
"Why, señorita, should you fatigue yourself further this night? Our new
friend and I will build you with a few axe strokes a jacal under which
you will be famously sheltered; you will sleep till sunrise, and then we
can start again for the hacienda. For the present you have no danger to
fear, as you are protected by two men who will not hesitate to sacrifice
their lives for you, if necessary."
"I thank you, my good Lanzi," the young lady answered; "your devotion is
known to me, and I could not hesitate to trust to you if I were at this
moment affected by fear of the Apaches. Believe me, that the thought of
the perils I may have to incur from those pagans goes for nothing in my
determination to start again immediately."
"What more important consideration can compel you, then, señorita?" the
half-breed asked, in surprise.
"That, my friend, is an affair between my father and myself; it is
sufficient for you to know that I must see and speak to him this very
night."
"Be it so, as you wish it, señorita, I consent," the half-breed said,
with a shake of his head; "still, you must allow that it is a very
strange caprice on your part."
"No, my good Lanzi," she answered, sadly, "it is not a caprice; when you
know the reasons that cause me, to act, I am convinced you will applaud
me."
"That is possible; but if that is the case, why not tell me them, at
once?"
"Because that is impossible."
"Silence!" the hunter interfered, quickly; "any discussion is
unnecessary, for we must start as soon as we can."
"What do you mean?" they exclaimed, with a start of terror.
"The Apaches have found our trail; they are coming up quickly, and will
be here within twenty minutes. This time there is no mistake, they are
the men."
There was a lengthened silence.
Doña Carmela and Lanzi listened attentively.
"I hear nothing," the half-breed said, presently.
"Nor I," the maiden whispered.
The hunter smiled softly.
"You can hear nothing yet," he said, "for your ears are not accustomed,
like mine, to catch the slightest sounds from the desert. Put faith in
my words, trust to an experience which was never mistaken: your enemies
are approaching."
"What is to be done?" Doña Carmela murmured.
"Fly," the half-breed exclaimed.
"Listen," the hunter said, quietly; "the Apaches are numerous, they are
cunning, but we can only conquer them by cunning. If we try to resist we
are lost; if we fly all three together, sooner or later we shall fall
into their hands. While I remain here you will fly with señorita, but be
careful to muffle your horses' hoofs so as to dull the sound."
"But you?" the maiden exclaimed quickly.
"Have I not told you? I shall remain here."
"Oh, in that case you will fall into the hands of the pagans, and be
inevitably massacred."
"Perhaps so," he replied with an indescribable expression of sadness;
"but at any rate my death will be of some service, as it will save you."
"Very well," said Lanzi; "I thank you for your offer, Caballero;
unhappily, I cannot, and will not, accept it, for matters must not turn
thus. I began the affair, and insist on ending it in my own way. Go away
with the señorita, deliver her into her father's hands, and if you do
not see me again, and he asks what has happened to me, tell him simply
that I kept my promise, and laid down my life for her."
"I will never consent," Doña Carmela exclaimed energetically.
"Silence!" the half-breed hastily interrupted her, "Be off, you have not
a moment to lose."
In spite of the young lady's resistance, he raised her in his muscular
arms, and ran off with her into the thicket.
Carmela understood that nothing could change the half-breed's
resolution, so she yielded to him.
The hunter accepted Lanzi's devotion as simply as he had offered his
own, for the half-breed's conduct appeared to him perfectly natural; he
therefore made not the slightest objection, but busied himself with
getting the horses ready.
"Now begone," the half-breed said, so soon as the hunter and the maiden
had mounted; "go, and may heaven be merciful to you!"
"And you, my friend?" Doña Carmela remarked sadly.
"I?" he answered with a careless toss of his head; "The red devils have
not got me yet. Come, be off."
To cut short the conversation, the half-breed roughly lashed the horses
with his chicote; the noble animals started at a gallop, and soon
disappeared from his sight.
So soon as he was alone, the poor fellow gave vent to a sigh.
"Hum!" he muttered sadly; "This time I am very much afraid that it is
all up with me; no matter, Canarios, I will fight to the last, and if
the pagans catch me, it shall cost them dearly."
After forming this heroic resolution, which seemed to restore all his
courage, the worthy man mounted his horse and prepared for action.
The Apaches dashed up with a noise resembling thunder.
The black outlines could already be distinguished through the darkness.
Lanzi took the bridle between his teeth, seized a pistol in either hand,
and when he judged the moment propitious, he dug his spurs into his
horse, dashed out in front of the Redskins, and crossed their front
diagonally.
When within range, he fired his pistols into the group, gave a yell of
defiance, and continued his flight with redoubled speed.
What the half-breed expected, really happened. His shots had told, and
two Apaches fell with their chests pierced through and through. The
Indians, furious at this audacious attack, which they were far from
expecting from a single man, uttered a cry of fury, and dashed after
him.
This was exactly what Lanzi wanted.
"There," he said on seeing the success of his scheme; "they are
altogether now, and there is no fear of their scattering; the others are
saved. As for me--bah, who knows?"
Doña Carmela and the hunter only escaped from the Apaches to fall in
with the jaguars. We have seen how they were saved, thanks to Tranquil.