THE PRISONER.
When the hunter finished his narrative a gloomy silence prevailed for
some minutes in the jacal. Outside the wind blew fiercely, and the
rain fell in torrents. The smoky flame of the candle, flickering in
the gusts, only spread an uncertain gleam over the pale faces of these
men, who felt their hearts contracted by a sinister presentiment. The
hacendero was the first to overcome the emotion he felt. With head
erect, frowning brows, and features contracted by a supreme resolution,
he walked rapidly up to the prisoner, and, pulling down roughly the
zarapé that covered the lower part of his face, he gazed at him for a
moment with an expression of grief and passion impossible to render.
"It is true, then," he at length muttered, in a dull voice, "this
man I believed so devoted to me is a traitor. I alone was blind when
everybody around me accused him. Speak, villain, what have you done?"
"It is my place to answer that question," the count said, as he walked
forward and laid his hand on Don Aníbal's arm.
The hacendero looked at him in amazement.
"You, Señor Conde?" he said.
"Yes, I, Don Aníbal. I, who have only come here to tell you a frightful
secret, and am compelled to bring a terrible accusation against this
man."
Don Aníbal felt as if his heart would break.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, "What are you going to tell me, great God?"
Don Pelagio, who had hitherto leant his elbow on the table, and
remained motionless and thoughtful, placed himself between the two
gentlemen, and looked at them, in turn, with an expression of sorrowful
compassion.
"Stay," he said, in a loud voice. "In the name of heaven--in the name
of our country--I command it! However terrible the revelation you
have to make, Señor Conde, may be; however great your impatience, Don
Aníbal, to know the full extent of your misfortunes, this is neither
the place nor the hour for such an explanation; honour bids you both
defer it for some hours. We must start immediately, for the hour has
arrived. If we delayed for a few moments the fruit of all our labour
and efforts would be lost. What do you apprehend? This man is in your
power, and will not escape. You will soon be able to inflict on him the
punishment which he doubtless deserves."
"Oh!" the hacendero exclaimed, sorrowfully, "Suppose this villain
escaped our vengeance, my friend; I feel a foreboding of some frightful
misfortune."
The count and the hunter looked down sadly. Father Sandoval gently
laid his hand on the shoulder of the hacendero, who had fallen into an
equipal, and buried his face in his hands.
"Courage, friend," he said to him, softly. "God is watching. His
justice never sleeps. Remember the precept written on the heart of
every man of honour, 'Do your duty, no matter what may happen.'"
The hacendero replied with a choking sob.
"You no longer belong to yourself," the priest continued, more warmly;
"your head and your arm are claimed by your country. Be a man, however
great the sorrow that awaits you; draw yourself up, and become strong
for the coming contest. Every man in the world has his cup which he
drains to the dregs. Go, my friend, go where duty calls you; tomorrow
you can think of yourself, but today belongs to your country."
The hacendero, overpowered by this manly appeal, rose mechanically,
pulled his hat over his eyes, and went off without uttering a word. The
priest looked after him, tenderly.
"Oh!" he muttered, "How that man of iron must suffer to be thus
crushed!"
Then he turned to the count.
"Señor Conde," he added, laughingly, "you are my prisoner for four and
twenty hours."
"I shall not leave you till the business for which I have come is
ended," the count replied with a polite bow.
"Hilloh, my worthy lad," the priest continued, addressing Diego López,
who throughout the interview had remained motionless in his corner,
with his eyes constantly fixed on the prisoner, "my provost marshal
will save you the trouble of guarding that man."
"That will be a great relief for me, Excellency."
"Good. Go and tell him to come here immediately. The prisoner is
securely bound, I presume?"
"Señor Clary himself made the knot, Excellency."
"In that case, my mind is at rest. Go."
"The more so, because I undertake to watch the villain in the
meanwhile," Oliver said, as he cocked a pistol.
"Good," Diego López remarked, and went out.
"Are your horses fit for a long ride, caballeros?"
"Well, hardly," the Canadian answered.
"Very well; you will choose among mine. Colonel Clary, your regiment,
which you will find complete, is on escort tonight."
"Are we going away?" the count asked.
"This very instant."
The Mexican general clapped his hands, and an officer came in.
"Order your men to mount noiselessly, Captain. Are the horses shod with
felt, as I ordered?"
"Yes, Excellency."
"Good; we shall start in ten minutes. You can go."
"Are we bound on an expedition?" the Canadian asked.
"Yes," the general replied, laconically.
"¡Caray!" the hunter exclaimed, as he rubbed his hands merrily, "That
is what I call being in luck's way, arriving just in time for an
expedition."
"Which will probably be serious," the general resumed.
"All the better; there will be something to gain in that case."
At this moment the provost marshal appeared at the door of the jacal,
accompanied by a dozen soldiers.
"Caballero," the general said to him, "I confide this prisoner to you,
for whom I hold you responsible. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly, General," the provost answered respectfully. "Come, my men,
seize the fellow."
The majordomo was led away by the soldiers. During the whole time
the Indian had remained in the jacal, he had been cold and stoical,
as if what was going on around him did not affect him in the least.
As he went out he gave a sarcastic glance at the company and smiled
contemptuously.
"I must watch that villain," the hunter said to himself, "he is surely
meditating some Indian devilry."
A noise of men and horses, followed by the clang of arms, informed the
general that his orders had been carried out.
"Let us be off, señores," he said.
They left the jacal. When the general and his escort had mounted,
Father Sandoval placed himself at the head of the column.
"Forward, caballeros," he said, in a loud, firm voice, "and may heaven
be gracious to us!"
The horsemen started a gallop, passing silently and rapidly through the
darkness, like the wild horseman in the German ballad. While they were
crossing the camp, one thing greatly surprised the hunter, though he
did not dare ask for an explanation. On all sides burnt bivouac fires,
sending myriads of sparks up into the air, but he could not notice a
single sentry. The most perfect silence reigned; men, horses, guns and
baggage had become invisible; the camp was or seemed to be entirely
deserted. The entrenchments were abandoned; no sentry shouted, "Who
goes there?" no vidette arrested the detachment. In a word, the entire
Mexican army seemed to have faded away in smoke.
The escort left the camp, and then the pace, already rapid, increased
in velocity. They proceeded toward the mountains which rose gloomy
and frowning on the horizon in the first gleams of daylight. A little
in the rear of the regiment of lancers, of which it formed as it were
a second rearguard, came a detachment of fifty soldiers. They were
the provost marshal's guard. In the midst of them was the majordomo,
fastened with a strap upon a horse behind its rider. Sotavento, or the
Stag, whichever the reader likes to call him, appeared to have lost
none of his assurance or courage; his face was calm, and his eyes alone
flashed at intervals, like those of a wild beast. On his right and left
two troopers, carbine on thigh, carefully watched him.
They galloped on thus for nearly three hours; the sky grew less gloomy,
and the outlines of the hills began to stand out upon the horizon. The
detachment halted for a short time, on reaching one of those countless
streams which intersect the desert, and which it was necessary to ford.
On the other bank could be seen the last squadrons of lancers, entering
at a gallop a canyon whose scarped and almost perpendicular sides
were only covered with a stunted and sparse vegetation. With his arms
fastened down on his chest, and his body attached by a strap, it seemed
an impossibility for Sotavento to escape; hence his guardians who, as
we said, did not let him out of sight, considered it unnecessary to tie
his legs under the horse's belly.
The majordomo, however, far from yielding to a despair unworthy of
him, seriously thought of escaping, and coolly calculated in his mind
all the chances of success left him. We must confess that they were
very small. Still, the Indian was determined to fly at all risks; he
knew very well that the grave suspicions would soon be converted into
a certainty, and that when this certainty was once acquired, his death
would immediately ensue. Death did not terrify the Indian; he had seen
it too often and under too many shapes to fear it; but, if he died,
what would become of his vengeance, which he had followed up for so
many years with feline patience, and which he was now on the point of
seeing satiated?
Hence, ever since the moment he was led into the jacal, all his
thoughts were directed to one object--flight. Crouched up like a tiger
on the watch, his eyes incessantly sounded the darkness, seeking the
opportunity which did not offer itself, and which he did not mean
to lose when it presented itself. This long expected opportunity he
believed had at length arrived, and he made all his preparations to
take advantage of it.
Although night was passing away and the first gleams of dawn were
already beginning to spread across the horizon large pearly bands,
which gradually assumed all the colours of the rainbow, the darkness
was still so great that it was difficult to make objects out
distinctly, even at a short distance. During the whole of the journey
Sotavento had remained gloomy and silent, with his head hanging over
his chest, and careful not to give the soldiers who watched him the
slightest pretext to redouble their vigilance; but for all that he was
not idle, and his pretended immobility had an incessant and obstinate
labour. The Indian was quietly nibbling with his teeth, which were as
sharp as those of a wild beast, the leathern straps which bound his
hands. When the detachment reached the riverbank the thongs were bitten
through, although his hands were still secured.
The provost, after sending a trooper to examine the ford, went across
with one half of his men. Excepting at the spot where the soldiers
traversed the stream, the banks were scarped and abrupt, and consisted
of rocks piled irregularly on each other, and rising to a considerable
height above the water. The order was given to bring the prisoner
across, and the soldier, behind whom he was fastened, trotted up to the
riverbank. The ford was too narrow for three riders to pass abreast,
and hence only one of the guards accompanied the prisoner. The latter
prepared for action. He understood that, if he did not profit by the
opportunity chance now afforded him, he would not find another.
The horses entered the river, and were soon up to their girths in
water. The soldier behind whom Sotavento was fastened, had quite enough
to do in keeping his horse in the line of the ford, and, at the same
time, raising his weapons, so that they should not be wetted; hence he
paid but slight attention to his prisoner. All at once, at the moment
he reached the middle of the stream, the soldier received a terrible
shock, and was unsaddled and hurled into the river before he had
time even to utter a cry. Sotavento had boldly leapt into the water,
dragging the trooper after him. A terrible struggle went on for a few
seconds between the two men; but the soldier, feeling himself lost,
and clinging eagerly to life, undid the strap that attached him to the
prisoner, and rose to the surface in order to breathe.
"Look out! Look out!" the other trooper exclaimed as he halted; "The
prisoner is escaping."
This shout produced disorder among the party, who at once galloped
in all directions with their eyes fixed on the stream in the hope of
pursuing the prisoner. But then a terrible thing occurred. The soldier
who had been the first to give the alarm, felt himself suddenly dragged
off his horse into the water, struggling vainly in the furious clutch
of the majordomo, who had seized him by the throat and was pitilessly
strangling him. With the rapidity of a wild beast, the Indian seized
the knife which the soldier wore in his boot, brandished it over his
enemy's head and scalped him; then, casting the dying man from him, he
bestrode his horse, waved the scalp with a triumphant cry, and making
the animal quit the ford, in which the couple had struggled up to their
waist in water, he went down the current amid a shower of bullets which
dashed up the spray all around him.
The horse, held by a firm hand, swam vigorously down with the current,
still keeping to the centre of the stream. On both banks horsemen were
galloping, shouting to each other, and trying in vain to approach the
river, which was defended by impassable masses of rock. Still, if
the scarped banks offered an obstacle to his pursuers, they equally
prevented the majordomo from reaching land. His horse was beginning to
pant, its strength was nearly exhausted, and it swam feebly. The Indian
looked round him anxiously, caring little for the soldiers, but seeing
with terror that the further he went the more difficult it became to
land on either side.
In spite of the provost's repeated orders, the soldiers, despairing to
catch up the fugitive, and perceiving the futility of their efforts,
gave up the pursuit. The Indian was consequently alone; still, in
spite of the certainty of having thrown out his foes, he feared that
he had but changed his manner of death. At the moment when his horse
was beginning to sink and beat the water with its forelegs, the chief
uttered a shout of joy. In the very centre of the river was an islet
easy of approach, and not more than sixty yards from him.
The Indian did not hesitate; removing his horse's bit, which was
troublesome to it, he dived and swam vigorously toward the islet.
The animal, freed from its rider's weight, seemed to regain its old
strength, and, impelled by instinct, also proceeded in the same
direction. A quarter of an hour after, man and horse walked together up
the sandy bank of the island. They were saved!