"The eagle may hide his track in the air from the eye of an Apache; the
salmon in the stream leaves no trace behind him; but a white man who
crosses the desert is neither a salmon nor an eagle."
"Nor a gosling," murmured Pepe; "and a gosling only betrays himself by
trying to sing."
The Indian listened again, but hearing no sound, continued, without
showing any signs of being discouraged, "The white warriors of the north
are but three against twenty, and the red warriors engage their word to
be friends and allies to them."
"Wagh!" said Bois-Rose, "for what perfidy has he need of us?"
"Let him go on, and we shall hear; he has not yet finished, or I am much
mistaken!"
"When the white warriors know the intentions of the Blackbird, they will
leave their hiding-place," continued he, "but they shall hear them. The
white men of the north are the enemies of those of the south--their
language, their religion is different. The Apaches hold in their toils
a whole camp of southern warriors."
"So much the worse for the gold-seekers," said Bois-Rose.
"If the warriors of the north will join the Indians with their long
rifles, they shall share the horses and the treasures of the men of the
south; the Indians and the whites will dance together round the corpses
of their enemies, and the ashes of their camp."
Bois-Rose and Pepe looked at each other in astonishment, and explained
to Fabian the proposal made to them, but the fire of their eyes and
their disdainful looks, showed that the noble trio had but one opinion
on the subject--that of perishing rather than aiding the Indians to
triumph even over their mortal enemies.
"Do you hear the miscreant," cried Bois-Rose, using in indignation an
image fit for the Indians, "he takes jaguars far jackals. Ah! if Fabian
were not here, a bullet would be my answer."
Meanwhile, the Indian feeling certain of the presence of the hunters in
the island, began to lose patience--for the orders of the chiefs had
been peremptory to attack the whites--but he, having his own opinions,
wished to prove them right. He knew that the American or Canadian rifle
never misses its aim, and three such allies seemed to him not to be
despised. He therefore continued to speak:
"The buffalo of the prairies is not more easy to follow than the white
man; the track of the buffalo tells the Indian his age, his size, and
the time of his passing. There are behind the reeds of the floating
island a man as strong as a bison, and taller than the tallest rifle, a
warrior of mingled north and south blood, and a young warrior of the
pure south, but the alliance of these two with the first, indicates that
they are enemies of the southern whites--for the weakest ever seek the
friendship of the strongest and espouse their cause."
"The sagacity of these dogs is admirable," said Bois-Rose.
"Because they flatter you," said Pepe, who seemed somewhat annoyed at
what the Indian had said.
"I await for the answer of the whites," continued the Blackbird. "I
hear only the sound of the river, and the wind which says to me, `the
whites imagine a thousand errors; they believe that the Indian has eyes
behind his back, that the track of the bison is invisible, and that
reeds are ball proof.' The Blackbird laughs at the words of the wind."
"Ah!" said Bois-Rose, "if we had entered but two miles higher up the
river!"
"A friend disdained becomes a terrible enemy," continued the chief.
"We say something similar among us," muttered Pepe.
The Blackbird now signed to the captive to approach. The latter
advanced, and the chief pointed out to him the little island, and said,
"Can the rifle of the pale-face send a ball into the space between those
bushes?"
But the prisoner had understood only the little Spanish mixed with the
Indian dialect, and he remained mute and trembling. Then the Blackbird
spoke to one of his warriors, who placed in the hands of the prisoner
the rifle that he had taken from him, and by gestures made him
understand what was wanted of him. The unlucky man tried to take aim,
but terror caused him to shake in such a fashion that his rifle was
unsteady in his hands.
"If the Indian has no better way than that to make us speak," said Pepe,
"I will not say a word until to-morrow!"
The white man fired indeed, but the ball, directed by his trembling
hands, fell into the water some distance from the island. The Blackbird
glanced contemptuously at him, and then looked around him.
"Yes," said Pepe; "seek for balls and powder among the lances and
lassoes of your warriors."
But as he finished this consoling reflection, the five men who had gone
away, returned armed for combat, with rifles and quivers full of arrows.
They had been to fetch the arms which they had laid down, in order to
follow the wild horses more freely. Five others now went off.
"This looks bad," said Bois-Rose.
"Shall we attack them while they are but fifteen," said Pepe.
"No, let us remain silent; he still doubts whether we are here."
"As you like."
The Indian chief now took a rifle and advanced again to the bank.
"The hands of the Blackbird do not tremble like a leaf shaken by the
wind," said he, pointing his rifle steadily towards the island. "But
before firing, he will wait while he counts one hundred, for the answer
of the whites who are hidden in the island."
"Get behind me, Fabian," said Bois-Rose.
"No, I stay here," said Fabian, decidedly. "I am younger, and it is my
place to expose myself for you."
"Child! do you not see that my body exceeds yours six inches on every
side, and your remaining in front is but presenting a double mark."
And without shaking a single one of the reeds around the island, he
advanced and knelt before Fabian.
"Let him do it, Fabian," said Pepe. "Never had man a more noble
buckler, than the heart of the giant which beats in fear for you."
The Indian chief, rifle in hand, listened as he counted, but excepting
the murmur of the water, a profound silence reigned everywhere.
He fired at length, and the leaves of the trees flew into the air; but
as the three hunters knelt in a row they did not present a large aim,
and the ball passed at some little distance from them.
The Blackbird waited a minute and cried again: "The Indian was wrong, he
acknowledges his error, he will seek for the white warriors elsewhere."
"Who believes that?" said Pepe; "he is more sure than ever. He is about
to leave us alone for a few minutes, until he has finished with that
poor devil yonder, which will not belong--since the death of a white is
a spectacle which an Indian is always in a hurry to enjoy."
"But had we better not make some effort in favour of the unlucky man?"
said Fabian.
"Some unexpected circumstances may come to our assistance," replied
Bois-Rose. "Whatever Pepe says, the Indians may still doubt, but if we
show ourselves, all is over. To accept an alliance with these Indians,
even against Don Estevan de Arechiza, would be an unworthy cowardice.
What can we do?" added he, sadly.
One fear tormented him; he had seen Fabian in danger when his blood was
boiling with passion, but had he the calm courage which meets death
coolly? Had he the stoical resignation of which he himself had given so
many proofs? The Canadian took a sudden resolution.
"Listen, Fabian," said he; "can I speak to you the language of a man?
Will the words which your ears will transmit to your heart not freeze it
with terror?"
"Why doubt my courage?" replied Fabian in a tone of gentle reproach.
"Whatever you say, I will hear without growing pale; whatever you do, I
will do also, without trembling."
"Don Fabian speaks truly, Pepe; look at his eye," said the Canadian,
pressing Fabian in his arms; then he continued solemnly: "Never were
three men in greater peril than we are now; our enemies are seven times
our number; when each of us has killed six of them, there would still
remain a number equal to our own."
"We have done it before," said Pepe.
"And we shall do it again," cried Fabian.
"Good, my child," said Bois-Rose, "but whatever happens, these demons
must not take us alive. See, Fabian!" added the old man, in a voice
that he tried to keep firm while unsheathing a long knife, "if we were
left without powder or ammunition at the mercy of these dogs, about to
fall into their hands, and this poignard in my hand was our only chance,
what would you say?"
"I would say, strike, father, and let us die together!"
"Yes, yes," cried the Canadian, looking with indescribable tenderness at
him who called him father, "it will be one means of never being
separated." And he held out to Fabian his hand trembling with emotion,
which the latter kissed respectfully.
"Now," said Bois-Rose, "whatever happens we shall not be separated. God
will do the rest, and we shall try to save this unlucky man."
"To work then!" said Fabian.
"Not yet, my child; let us see what these red demons are about to do."
Meanwhile the Indians had ranged themselves in two lines, and the white
man was placed a little in advance of them.
"I see what they are going to do," said Bois-Rose, "they are going to
try if the poor wretch's legs are better than his arms. They are about
to chase him."
"How so?" said Fabian.
"They will place their captive a little in advance, then at a given
signal he will run. Then all the Indians will run after him, lance and
hatchet in hand. If the white is quick enough to reach the river before
them, we will call to him to swim to us. Some shots will protect him,
and he may reach here safe and sound. But if terror paralyses his
limbs, as it did his hands just now, the foremost Indian will break his
head with a blow from a hatchet. In any case we shall do our best."
At this moment the five other Indians returned armed from head to foot,
and now joined the rest. Fabian looked with profound compassion at the
unlucky white man, who with haggard eye, and features distorted by
terror, waited in horrible anguish until the signal was given. But the
Blackbird pointed to the bare feet of his warriors, and then to the
leather buskins which protected the feet of the white man. They then
saw the latter sit down and take them off slowly, as if to gain a few
seconds.
"The demons!" cried Fabian.
"Hush!" said Bois-Rose, "do not by discovering yourself destroy the last
chance of life for the poor wretch!"
Fabian shut his eyes so as not to witness the horrible scene about to
take place. At length the white man rose to his feet, and the Indians
stood devouring him with their looks, until the Blackbird clapped his
hands together, and then the howlings which followed could only be
compared to those of a troop of jaguars in pursuit of a deer. The
unlucky captive ran with great swiftness, but his pursuers bounded after
him like tigers. Thanks to the start which he had had, he cleared
safely a part of the distance which separated him from the river, but
the stones which cut his feet and the sharp thorns of the nopals soon
caused him to slacken his pace, and one of the Indians rushed up and
made a furious thrust at him with his lance. It passed between his arm
and his body, and the Indian losing his equilibrium, fell on the sand.
Gayferos, for it was he, appeared to hesitate a moment whether he should
pick up the lance which the Indian had let fall, but then rapidly
continued his course. That instant's hesitation was fatal to him. All
at once, amidst the cloud of dust raised by his feet, a hatchet shone
over the head of the unfortunate Mexican, who was seen falling to the
earth.
Bois-Rose was about to fire, but the fear of killing him whom he wished
to defend, stopped his hand. For a single moment the wind cleared away
the dust, and he fired, but it was too late, the Indian who fell under
his ball was brandishing in his hand the scalp of the unhappy man. To
this unexpected shot, the savages replied with howls, and then rushed
away from what they believed to be only a corpse. Soon, however, they
saw the man rise, with his head laid bare, who after straggling a few
paces, fell again, while the blood flowed in torrents from his wounds.
"Ah!" cried Bois-Rose, "if there remains in him a spark of life--and
people do not die only from scalping--we shall save him yet; I swear we
shall!"