After a short journey, fatigue and suffering overcame the wounded man;
and as it was imperative that he should not become acquainted with the
situation of the Golden Valley, or even be made aware of its existence,
Bois-Rose and Pepe resolved, now that he was in safety, to leave him for
some hours and employ the time in reconnoitring the places described to
Fabian by his adopted mother.
"Listen, my lad!" said Bois-Rose to Gayferos, "we have given you quite
sufficient proofs of devotion, and now we must leave you for half or
perhaps a whole day. We have some business in hand which requires three
determined men; if this evening or to-morrow morning we are still alive,
you shall see us return; if not, you know it will not be our fault.
Here is water and dried meat, and twenty-four hours will soon pass."
It was not without regret that Gayferos consented to this separation;
however, reassured by a new promise from the generous hunters, to whom
he owed so much, he resigned himself to being left behind.
"I have one last word to say to you," said Bois-Rose. "If chance bring
here any of the companions from whom you so unluckily separated, I exact
from you, as the sole return for the service which we have rendered to
you, that you will reveal to none of them our presence here. As for
your own, you can account for it in any way you like."
Gayferos made the required promise, and they then took leave of him.
On the point of accomplishing one of his most ardent desires, that of
enriching the child of his affection and adding immense treasures to his
future fortune, Bois-Rose seemed to forget that it would raise an
additional barrier between Fabian and himself.
Pepe, anxious to repair as far as possible the involuntary injury that
he had caused to the Mediana family, walked along with an elastic step.
Fabian alone did not seem happy, and after a quarter of an hour he
stopped, saying that he needed rest. All three sat down on a little
hillock, and Pepe, pointing to the mountains, cried, in a tone of gay
reproach, "What! Don Fabian! does not the neighbourhood of those
places, so fertile in gold, give new vigour to your limbs?"
"No," replied Fabian, "for I shall not go a step further in that
direction till sunrise."
"Ah!" said Bois-Rose, "and why not?"
"Why? Because this is a cursed place--a place where he--whom before you
I loved as a father--was assassinated; because a thousand dangers
surround you, and I have already exposed you too much by making you
espouse my cause."
"What are these dangers that we three together cannot brave? Can they
be greater than what we have just passed through? And if it please Pepe
and I to incur them for you, what then?"
"These dangers are of all kinds," replied Fabian, "why deceive oneself
longer? Does not everything prove that Don Estevan knows also of the
existence of the Golden Valley?"
"Well, and what do you conclude from that?"
"That three men cannot prevail against sixty."
"Listen, my child," replied Bois-Rose with some impatience, "it was
before engaging in this enterprise that we should have made these
reflections; now they are too late, and why do you not think to-day as
you did yesterday?"
"Because yesterday I was blinded by passion; because affection has now
taken its place; because I do not hope to-day what I hoped yesterday."
The contradictory passions which agitated his heart did not permit
Fabian to explain more clearly to the Canadian the alternations of his
wishes.
"Fabian," said Bois-Rose solemnly, "you have a holy but terrible duty to
perform, and duty must be done; but who tells you that the expedition
commanded by Don Estevan will take the same path as ourselves? And, if
it does, so much the better; the murderer of your mother will fall into
your hands."
"The guide conducting them," replied Fabian, seeking to hide his real
sentiments, "can only be that miserable Cuchillo. Now, if I am not
wrong, the valley must be known to him; in any case, we should await the
return of daylight before entangling ourselves in a country we know
nothing about, and in which these adventurers may prove enemies as
formidable as the Indians. Do you not think so, Pepe?"
"Nearly all night, the wind has brought to our ears," replied he, "the
sound of filing, which proves that the troop has been engaged with the
Indians; it is not therefore probable that any one can be in advance of
us. I must say that my opinion is, that we should without loss of time
gain some place in the mountains where we may engage in a last
inevitable struggle with our enemies; some well chosen spot where we can
defend ourselves with a chance of success."
"It is this unequal struggle that I wish to avoid," replied Fabian,
warmly. "As long as I could hope to overtake, before they readied
Tubac, those whom Providence seemed to point out for my vengeance, and
attack them while they were only five against three, I pursued them
without reflection; as long as I could believe that this expedition had,
like so many others, entered the desert only in search of some unknown
spot, I followed them. But what has happened? After four days in which
we took a different path, do we not find them near these mountains?
Their aim is therefore the same as ours. Three men cannot fight against
sixty; therefore God forbid that to further either my vengeance or my
cupidity, I should sacrifice two generous friends whose lives are more
precious to me than my own!"
"Child," cried Bois-Rose, "do you not see that every one is here for
himself, and yet that our three interests are but one? When for the
second time, God sent you to my arms, were we not already pursuing the
man who was ruining your hopes, and had already assassinated your
mother, and stolen your name? For ten years Pepe and I have been but
one; the friends of one have been the friends of the other, and you are
Pepe's son, because you are mine, Fabian my child; and thanks be to God
that in serving our own cause we are also serving yours. Whatever
happens, then we shall not take a step backwards."
"Besides," said Pepe, "do you count for nothing, Don Fabian, heaps of
gold, and a whole life of abundance for an imaginary peril? for I repeat
we must reach the valley first, and a day--an hour--in advance may
enrich us forever; you see then that _we_ are egotists trying to
sacrifice _you_ to our personal interest."
"Pepe is right," said Bois-Rose, "we want gold."
"What will you do with it?" asked Fabian, smiling.
"What will I do with it? the child asks what I will do with it!" cried
Bois-Rose.
"Yes, I wish to know."
"What will I do with it?" replied the honest Canadian, whom this
question embarrassed much, "parbleu--I will do--many things, I will give
my rifle a golden barrel," cried he, triumphantly.
Pepe smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
"You laugh," said Bois-Rose. "Do you think that when you finish off an
Apache, a Sioux, or a Pawnee with a blow of your knife, it would not be
grand to say to him, `Dog, the ball that broke your head came from a
rifle of solid gold!' Few hunters can say as much."
"I agree to that," said Fabian; then added he seriously, "No, my
friends! Don Estevan escapes my vengeance, and the gold that I believe
would be mine escapes me also, for it is surrounded by soldiers. What
matters? have I not still, if I should become ambitious, the name and
fortunes of my forefathers to reclaim? Are there not in Spain tribunals
which dispense justice to all? God will do the rest, but I will not
madly expose two noble lives. I do not speak of mine; young as I am, I
have drunk the cup of bitterness to the dregs. You have done enough,
and your generous subterfuges cannot impose upon me."
So saying, Fabian held out his hands to the two hunters, who pressed
them in an affectionate grasp. The Canadian looked silently for a
minute at the noble face of him whom he was proud to call his son, and
then said:
"Fabian, my child, all my life has been passed on the sea or in deserts,
but I have preserved sufficient remembrance of cities and their customs
to know that justice is rather sold than given. This gold we shall
employ in making of you what you were intended to be; this gold, will
smooth all the obstacles against which your rightful cause might break
down. Pepe can tell you, like me, that we shall gladly expose our lives
in the hope of restoring to you the property of your ancestors, and the
illustrious name that you are so worthy to bear."
"Yes," said Pepe, "I have told you that the early part of my life was
not such as I should wish. It was a little the fault of the Spanish
Government, which never paid me for my services; still it is a weight
upon my heart. Often, I think sadly of my past life, but God always
pardons the repentant sinner, and gives him opportunity of repentance.
That day has arrived; my pardon is near, and it is but justice that I
should assist in restoring to you what I helped to take away."
"Let us go on then!" said Bois-Rose, "God has hitherto shown us our path
and will continue to aid us. If you stay, Fabian, we shall go alone."
So saying, the Canadian rose, and throwing his rifle over his shoulder
began his march. Fabian was forced to yield, and all proceeded towards
the mountains.
Daylight had not yet quite appeared when a new actor advanced in his
turn towards the same scenes. He came alone; his horse in its impetuous
course made the sand fly under his feet, and the rider, who was no other
than Cuchillo, showed symptoms on his sinister countenance of some
secret terror. His flight might not have been unobserved even in the
tumult of action, or some of the Indians might have noticed his
desertion, and hence his fears. But Cuchillo was not a man to undertake
a bold stroke without calculating the chances. As a hunter wishing to
take the lion's whelps, throws him some bait to distract his attention,
so Cuchillo had delivered to the lords of the desert his companions as a
prey. He had calculated that the struggle would last a great part of
the night, and that conquered or conquering, the adventurers would not
dare, during the following day, to leave their intrenchments. He would
therefore have long hours before him in which to seize on some of the
treasures of the Golden Valley, with which he would afterwards return to
the protection of his companions, and when they all reached the place he
could still claim his share as soldier and as guide. Pretexts would not
fail him for this second absence, but he had forgotten to calculate on
Don Estevan's suspicions concerning him. To conclude his bargain with
him he had been forced to give such a precise account of the situation
of the valley that Don Estevan could scarcely miss the right road.
After Cuchillo, followed by his horse, had glided out from the camp he
had ridden straight towards the mountains, and cupidity, the most
blinding of passions, had closed his eyes to the danger of his plan.
His heart palpitating with alternate hopes and fears, he had advanced
rapidly, and only stopped occasionally to listen to the vague murmurs of
the desert. Then recognising the groundlessness of his apprehensions,
he had continued his road with renewed ardour.
Sometimes also the aspect of the places he had seen before, awakened
gloomy souvenirs. On that hillock, he had rested with Marcos Arellanos;
that nopal had furnished them with refreshing fruit; they had both
contemplated with mysterious terror the strange aspect of the Misty
Mountains, and his horse in its rapid course carried the murderer to the
spot where his victim had fallen beneath his blows! Then to the fear of
enemies succeeded that inspired by conscience, which while it often
sleeps by day, awakes and resumes its empire during the night. The
bushes--the thorny nopals--rose before him like accusing phantoms,
opposing his advance with extended arms; a cold perspiration stood on
his brow, but cupidity, stronger than fear, spurred him on towards the
valley, and he began to laugh at his own apprehensions.
"Phantoms," said he, "are like alcaldes, who never address poor devils
like me; but let me only get one or two arrobas of gold, and I shall
have so many masses said for the soul of Arellanos, that he will be glad
to have met his death in such generous hands."
He laughed at this quaint conceit, and then rode on quickly. In a few
minutes he stopped and listened again, but heard no noise save the loud
breathing of his horse.
"I am alone," thought he; "those brutes whom I have guided are fighting
to give me leisure to despoil the sands of some of that precious gold.
Who is to prevent me presently, when daylight appears, from picking up
as much as I can carry without betraying my secret? This time, it will
not be as when along with Arellanos; I shall not have to fly from the
Indians: they are busy. Afterwards I can come back with such of my
companions as escape the Apaches. How many will remain to partake with
me? Oh! the thought of these treasures makes the blood boil in my
veins. Is it not gold that gives glory, pleasure, and every good of
this world? our priests say its power extends even beyond the tomb!"
While Cuchillo was advancing blindly to where his destiny led him, Don
Estevan and Pedro Diaz were also on their way. Although the hills were
but six leagues from the camp, yet, uncertain of the time of his
absence, Don Estevan had left orders to his people to await his return.
The two advanced silently, full of desire for the gold, but equally
desirous of intercepting the traitor. Two hours' quick riding had
produced no result. Thanks to his advance, Cuchillo was invisible; and
the darkness would have hidden his track even from the eye of an Indian.
"There is no doubt," said Pedro Diaz, breaking silence, "that the knave
must have profited by the confusion to fly towards the valley, and seize
on a part of the treasures which he has sold to us."
"That is not what I fear most," said Don Estevan. "If Cuchillo has not
exaggerated the riches of the place, there will be plenty left for all
of us. But now so near attaining that for which I have crossed the
desert--after having left a position envied by all, to brave the dangers
of an expedition like this--a vague fear of failing agitates me. The
desert is like the sea, abounding in pirates, and the soul of Cuchillo
is full of treason: it seems to me that the villain will be fatal to
us."
Suddenly Diaz dismounted, and picked up off the sand a dark object; it
was a kind of valise, which Diaz at once recognised as belonging to
Cuchillo.
"This shows you, Senor," said he, "that we are in the right path, and
that the coming day will bring us into the presence of the traitor."
"It shall then be his last treason," said Don Estevan; and they now rode
silently on with the certainty that Cuchillo was before them.
Strange chain of coincidences! When the sun appeared in the horizon,
the different actors in this drama, apparently drawn together by
accident, but in truth impelled onwards by the hand of God, had met in
the most inaccessible part of the great American desert.