THE WOUNDED MAN.
However eccentric the means employed by the Canadian to regain his
liberty may appear to the reader at the first blush, they had been
carefully meditated. The adventurer had judged the man with whom he had
to deal; he felt convinced that if he allowed him to give the order
for hanging, it would not be revoked. The game he played in attacking
the general was a bold one; but there are in the world many perverse
beings with whom any reasoning is impossible, and with whom knockdown
arguments must be employed. The adventurer calculated on the surprise,
fear, and perhaps admiration of his enemy to secure his own escape. He
was not deceived in his calculations, for a good deal of these three
feelings was mixed up with the general's extraordinary clemency: and
then too, possibly, after the specimen which Don López had had of the
Canadian's resolution and reckless daring, he was not anxious to put
him to a fresh trial, as he knew that he was armed, and convinced
that he would blow out his brains without hesitation. For our part, we
believe that the general was for an instant completely dominated by the
ascendency which the Canadian's character exerted over him, and that he
had acted solely under the influence of this feeling.
However this may be, Oliver Clary did not deceive himself for a moment,
and spurred his horse, which galloped at headlong speed. After about
an hour's ride, he thought that he had placed a sufficient distance
between himself and any person who might feel tempted to pursue him,
and he checked the pace of his steed, which was beginning to display
signs of fatigue, and he did not wish to kill it unnecessarily. It was
about ten a.m., and the day was magnificent. The Canadian, who had been
imprisoned for nearly four and twenty hours, inhaled the fresh air and
looked around him in delight, so happy did he feel at being free and
seeing once again water and trees.
He rode along thus, careless and satisfied, laughing at the capital
trick he had played the general, and glad to have got out of the scrape
so well, when he suddenly perceived a small party of horsemen coming
toward him at full speed. In the first moment, the Canadian felt a
lively anxiety; but, upon reflection, he reassured himself by the fact
that it was impossible these horsemen had been sent in pursuit of him,
from the direction in which they were coming. He, therefore, continued
to push on without checking or hurrying his steed, for fear of arousing
in the minds of the newcomers suspicions which might be unfavourable
to him, and, owing to their number, cause him an embarrassment which
he desired to avoid at any price. But, after riding thus for some
ten minutes, he uttered a cry of pleasure and galloped toward the
newcomers. He had recognized in the two persons heading the party,
Count de Melgosa and Diego López.
"Thank heaven!" the count exclaimed on seeing him, "I was afraid I
should arrive too late."
"That would probably have been the case," the Canadian replied, "had I
not managed to get out of the hobble by myself. But how is it that I
meet you here?"
"Did I not promise to join you today at Leona?"
"Ah, now I understand,"
"No, you do not, for I had not intended to start till this evening, so
as to avoid the great heat, had not Diego López arrived this morning
at sunrise like a madman at the hacienda, telling everybody who could
hear it that General Cárdenas put you in prison yesterday, with orders
that you should be hung today. I now see that this ass of a Diego has
let himself be taken in by falsehoods spread through the town for some
motive I am ignorant of, and I am delighted at it, for I should never
have consoled myself had you died."
"Señor Conde," the Canadian replied, as he affectionately pressed the
peon's hand, "Diego López was not deceived by false reports. All he
told you was most strictly true."
"Ah!" the count exclaimed, with a start of passion, "That man must
really be a wild beast."
"Morally, I am prepared to swear he is," the Canadian replied, with an
air of conviction.
"It surpasses all belief. Never was such contempt of the law of nations
known. But how is it that I now find you at liberty, and, apparently at
least, without the slightest wound?"
"That is another story," the adventurer said, with a meaning smile,
"and one which is somewhat interesting, I assure you, count."
"Who delivered you?"
"Myself."
"Alone?"
"Indeed, yes. When I saw that no one came to my assistance, I tried to
manage it by myself, and you see how I succeeded."
"Oh!" the count said, with an accent of painful conviction. "A cause
defended by such men is a lost cause. Pray, caballero, tell me in their
fullest details all the events that have occurred. I want to know them
in order to see whether my honour permits me still to give the aid of
my sword to a government which employs such savage measures."
"Señor Conde," the Canadian said frankly, "since you insist, I will
tell you all, though I know that the story will grieve you. Still,
before I begin, must say that, during all the time I have been ranging
the desert, and the annals of an adventurous career have brought me
into relations with the most ferocious Indian nations, I never found
with one of them such a profound contempt for what all men respect. For
that I had to become acquainted with a Spanish general."
"Señor," the count said sorrowfully, "do not render a whole nation
responsible for the fault of an individual. Do not judge us incapable
of generous feelings and recognizing virtue when it presents itself to
us. Thank heaven! The Spanish people have established their reputation
for honour and loyalty for centuries. There are, believe me, among
other nations as well as ours, coldly ferocious beings insensible
of all feeling of honour. These men belong to no nation. They are
monsters whom humanity brands and rejects with horror from its bosom."
"I will not discuss so grave a matter with you, señor. I am but a poor
man, ignorant of the laws of the world, and I do not at all intend to
pass judgment on things which exceed the range of the weak intellect
with which it has pleased nature to endow me. It is evident that men
are all born with different instincts. Whether civilization modifies
these instincts for better or worse I cannot say, any more than I would
venture to assert that all the men of your nation are as thoroughly
bad as the general, the more so as you are an evident proof of the
contrary."
"A compliment is not an answer, señor. But do not let us dwell any
longer on this painful subject, and return to the story you promised to
tell me."
"I ask nothing better than to do so, caballero; but the narrative will
occupy some time, and, for reasons you will speedily learn, I am not
particularly anxious to remain so short a distance from Leona Vicario."
"Very good, señor," the count answered. "Tell me where you wish to go,
and I will accompany you for some leagues with the greater pleasure
at the thought that, in the event of your being pursued--which, I
presume, is the cause of your anxiety--my escort and presence would
prove of some use to you."
"Certainly, caballero, and I accept your gracious offer with the
greatest pleasure. I am returning to the Hacienda del Barrio, to give a
report of the mission confided to me, and which nearly cost me so dear.
I suppose that no serious reason prevents your accompanying me on that
road?"
"None; especially as I shall only go so far as I can with safety."
"As that is the case, let us start, for I am anxious to get away."
The count ordered his troopers to wheel, and the little party started
again at a gallop.
"Why," the count said suddenly, as he looked at the adventurer's steed,
"if I am not greatly mistaken, that horse comes out of the stables of
General de Cárdenas."
"Quite right; it does."
"How do you happen to be riding it?"
"That is part of the story."
"Begin it, then, in heaven's name, for I am dying of impatience to hear
it."
"In that case, listen to me, Señor Conde. But be kind enough to let my
comrade Diego López remain near us. He behaved too well to me, during
the short time we were together, for me to begrudge him this slight
satisfaction."
The count granted the Canadian's request with pleasure, and made a sign
to Diego, who eagerly ranged his horse by the side of Oliver Clary's.
The Canadian then began his narrative, relating with the utmost
frankness events as they occurred, from the moment when he quitted the
count at the hacienda up to that when he found him galloping again on
the road to Leona. The count listened to the Canadian's lengthy story
with the most earnest attention, at times letting the feelings be seen
on his stern face which the facts the adventurer related aroused in
him. When the latter ceased speaking, he shook his head several times.
"You were more lucky than clever," he said, "and the way in which you
gained your liberty almost trenches on the marvellous. The general
deserved worse treatment than that for the way in which he behaved to
you, and the contempt he displayed for the safe conduct I had given
you. Alas! We live in hapless times, when honour and good faith are
mere words devoid of meaning."
"Not to everybody," the Canadian exclaimed, quickly.
"Certainly not, and I am pleased to allow it; of all the things you
have related to me, there is only one of which I do not approve."
"Which is that, Señor Conde?"
"The help you gave the redskin imprisoned with you. These Indians are
a real scourge to us dwellers on the border; letting one escape when
caught is like setting a ferocious brute at liberty."
"That is true, señor; but what would you have? I have lived for many
years among the redskins; I have frequently fought them, and at times
killed them without the slightest scruple; but I cannot allow that they
should be deprived of their sole property--liberty. Besides, he was an
old acquaintance, in this sense, that the tribe to which he belongs has
done me great services on several occasions. As I had a chance to repay
them, I did so."
"Yes, you are right, and you are bound to reason thus after the life
you have led. I will not dwell on this subject further, therefore;
but what you have said has produced a powerful impression on me. I
require a few moments' reflection, in order to regulate my thoughts; so
kindly excuse me if I am silent for a few minutes; after which we will
converse again. I intend to ride two or three leagues further with
you."
The adventurer bowed, and turning to Diego López, he thanked him warmly
for what he had tried to do for him, and assured him that, although
he had not profited by his advice, he was not the less grateful for
it. While talking and galloping, they passed through the canyon where
they had been attacked a few days previously by the Indians, and were
about to enter a rather large chaparral, which they were obliged to
cross to reach the banks of the lake, when the Canadian's piercing eye
perceived, some distance ahead, the body of a man lying at the foot of
an enormous sumach, beneath which he seemed to be seeking a shelter
from the sun.
"There is a man," said the adventurer, "who knows but little about the
desert."
"What man are you talking of?" Diego López asked, who had not yet
looked in that direction.
"Look there," the adventurer said, stretching out his arm, "that
individual has placed himself by the roadside, within reach of the
first passerby who may feel inclined to kill him in order to seize the
little he possesses. I know countries in Apacheria where he would not
lie in that way, without being really scalped by some Indian prowler."
"It is singular," Diego López continued, "he has no horse, and that is
extraordinary in a country where the poorest peon has one."
"That is true," the Canadian said, and added a moment later, "I am very
much afraid that our fancied sleeper is simply a dead man."
"Do you think so?" the peon said.
"Hang it, I do not know exactly, but he has not made the slightest
movement since we first perceived him. If he be not dead, as I expect,
he must be a very sound sleeper not to have heard the sound of our
horses."
"I will inform the Señor Conde," the peon replied, as he turned back
and rejoined his master.
The latter listened to his servant's report with, some surprise, for
no assassination had occurred for a long time on this road, which was
greatly frequented by travellers of every description. He spurred his
horse, and joined the adventurer, who had pulled up to wait for him.
"What do you think about it?" he asked him.
"Nothing good," the latter replied; "still I think that we had better
make sure. With your permission I will push on, and find out what it
all means."
"We will all go," the count answered; "if the pretended corpse
concealed a trap, there would be enough of us to foil it."
"Let us push on then," the Canadian said, as he slacked his rein, and
his horse started with the speed of lightning.
The others followed him, and they soon reached the sumach; the man had
not stirred. The count and the adventurer dismounted, and walked up to
the body, which still lay motionless, and bent over it.
"It is a white man," said the Canadian.
"Yes," the count added, after a moment of attentive examination; "I
know him. His name is Don Melchior. I saw him at the Hacienda del
Barrio during my last visit. Don Aníbal de Saldibar is sincerely
attached to him. How is it that he is here, and in such a hapless
condition?"
"That is a question which himself alone could answer, and for the
moment I fear that it is impossible for him to do so. Let us first make
sure whether he be dead or alive."
Like all the wood rangers, who, through the chances of their
adventurous life, run a risk of being wounded at any moment, the
Canadian, though no great doctor, possessed some practical knowledge
of medicine, or, to speak more correctly, of surgery. He bent over
the young man, raised him with one hand, and held him up in a sitting
position, while he held to his mouth the bright blade of his knife. A
moment later he looked at it; it was slightly tarnished.
"Thank heaven!" he said, "He is not dead, though not much better off;
he has fainted."
"The poor boy appears to me very ill," the count remarked, sorrowfully.
"That is true; but he is young and strong, and so long as the soul
clings to the body there is a chance."
"How can we help him? We must not leave him in this pitiable state."
"Of course not, for that would be certain death. Diego López, give me
your flask if there is any liquor in it."
"It is quite full," the peon said, handing it to him.
The Canadian mixed a little mezcal with water in a leaf he bent up, and
then rubbed the temples, wrists, and stomach of the wounded man with
it; after which, thrusting the knife blade between his teeth, he opened
his mouth by main force, and made him swallow a few drops, while Diego
López continued the friction, and the count, kneeling behind the young
man, kept him in a sitting posture. For nearly a quarter of an hour
their efforts seemed to produce no effect on the wounded man; still the
Canadian, far from giving in, redoubled his exertions, and ere long had
cause to congratulate himself on his perseverance when he saw the young
man make a slight movement.
"Heaven be thanked!" the count said, joyfully, "He is regaining his
senses."
"Indeed is he," said the Canadian, "look at him waking up."
In fact, Don Melchior, after making a few convulsive efforts, feebly
opened his eyes, but, blinded by the sunbeams, closed them again.
"Courage," the Canadian said to him, "courage, comrade, you have
friends near you."
The young man, at the sound of this voice, seemed to return to his
senses completely, his pale cheeks were tinged with a hectic flush; he
opened his eyes, looked round him in amazement, and, making an effort
to speak, he murmured in a weak, almost indistinct voice--
"The Indians--the Indians--save Doña Diana--save--save--Doña Emilia!"
And, worn by the effort he had made, he fell back inanimate in the
count's arms; the latter laid him gently on the ground, and rose
eagerly.
"Diego López," he said, "make a litter as speedily as possible, this
young man must be conveyed to my house."
"Why not to the Hacienda del Barrio?" the Canadian remarked.
"No," the count answered, with a shake of his head, "there is a
mystery in this affair. Let us not act inconsiderately, and perhaps
cause great pain to a man who has already suffered severely. You will
accompany us, I suppose, señor?"
"Certainly, if you desire it."
"I ask it as a favour, caballero."