TWO ENEMIES.
In the high American latitudes, night comes on almost suddenly, and
without sensible transition; there is no twilight, and when the sun has
disappeared on the horizon, it is perfect night; now, at the period of
the year when the events occurred which we have undertaken to describe,
the sun set at seven o'clock. Half an hour later, Tranquil and Loyal
Heart, mounted on excellent mustangs, left the rancho, followed by No
Eusebio, who insisted on joining them, and whom no entreaties or
exhortations could keep back. They had only gone a few yards across the
square, however, when the Canadian laid his hand on the young man's
bridle.
"What do you want?" the latter asked.
"Shall we not take our comrades with us?"
"Do you think it necessary?"
"Well, with the exception of the monk, who, I fear, is not worth much,
they are stout fellows, whose rifles might prove very useful to us."
"That is true; warn them in a few words, and rejoin me here."
"Do you not think the departure of so large a party may arouse the
suspicions of Blue-fox, who is doubtless prowling about the
neighbourhood?"
"Not at all, they are white men; if he saw Indian warriors departing
thus, I am sure his doubts would be aroused; but he will never suppose
that hunters have discovered his treachery."
"You may be right, but in any case it is better to run the risk; wait
for me, I shall be back in ten minutes."
"All right, go along."
Tranquil went off rapidly, while Loyal Heart and No Eusebio halted a few
yards further on. The adventurers gleefully accepted the proposal
Tranquil made them; for such men, a battle is a festival, especially
when they have Indians to fight; ten minutes scarce elapsed, therefore,
ere the Canadian rejoined the young man. The little band set out, and
silently left the village.
Loyal Heart was mistaken in supposing that Blue-fox would not be alarmed
on seeing the white hunters leave the atepetl. The Redskin, like all men
who meditate treachery, had his eyes constantly open to the movements of
the inhabitants of the village, and his watchful mind took umbrage at
the most insignificant matters. Although the Comanche Chiefs had acted
with the greatest prudence, the Apache Sachem speedily perceived that he
was watched, and that, though honourably treated, and apparently free,
he was in reality a prisoner. He pretended not to suspect what was going
on, but redoubled his attention. During the past day, he had seen
several warriors mount their horses one after the other, and set out in
groups of two, three, and even four, to bury themselves in the forest.
Not one of these warriors having re-entered the atepetl by sunset, this
circumstance caused the Redskin Chief deep thought, and he even came to
the conclusion that his plans were discovered, and that the Comanches
were attempting a countermine, that is to say, were trying to surprise
the persons who desired to lay a trap for them, and the departure of the
white hunters would have removed the Chief's final doubts, had any such
remained. The situation was growing not only very critical, but most
perilous for him; his scalp was extremely compromised; it was plain that
the Comanche warriors on their return would perform the scalp dance, and
the finest ornament of the feast would be the Apache Chief who had tried
to lead them into a cleverly-prepared trap.
Blue-fox was a warrior renowned as much for his wisdom in council as for
his bravery in fight; instances of extraordinary audacity and temerity,
were narrated about him, but the courage with which the Chief was gifted
was calm, reasoning, and ever subordinate to events; that is to say,
Blue-fox, like a true Redskin, would never hesitate, when circumstances
demanded it, to substitute craft and trickery for courage, considering
it highly absurd, and very useless, to expose his life without any hope
of profit.
Blue-fox was sitting in front of the entrance of the calli of honour the
Comanches had given him during the period of his stay with them, calmly
smoking his pipe, when the white hunters passed before him. He displayed
neither surprise nor curiosity at the sight of them, but by an almost
imperceptible movement of his head and shoulders, he looked after them
with a flashing glance till they disappeared in the darkness. We have
said that the night was dark, the village already appeared completely
deserted, the Indians had withdrawn to the interior of their callis,
while at lengthened intervals an isolated Redskin hastily crossed the
square, hurrying homewards.
Blue-fox still sat before his calli smoking; gradually the arm that
supported the calumet fell on his knees, his head bowed on his chest,
and the Apache Sachem seemed, as so often happens to the Indians, to
have yielded to the narcotic influence of the morichee; and a long time
elapsed ere he made the slightest movement. Was the Chief really asleep?
No one could have answered the question. His calm and regular breathing,
and his careless attitude, led to the supposition that he had been
overcome by sleep; but, if any sound suddenly smote his ear, an almost
imperceptible tremor ran over his limbs, and his eyelash rose, probably
through that instinct of personal prudence peculiar to the Indians, but
more probably through a desire of investigation, as we think, and as
anyone else would have thought who was in a position to see the piercing
glances he at such moments darted into the obscurity. All at once the
curtain of the calli was raised, and a hand was roughly laid on the
sleeper's shoulder. The Chief started at this touch, which he did not at
all expect, and sprang up as if a serpent had stung him.
"The nights are cold," said an ironical voice, which smote unpleasantly
on the ear of Blue-fox; "the dew is profuse, and ices the blood; my
brother is wrong to sleep thus in the open air, when he has a spacious
and convenient calli."
Blue-fox, by a powerful effort, extinguished the fire of his glance,
composed his features, and answered in the gentle voice of a man who is
really waking--
"I thank my brother for his affectionate observation; in truth, the
nights are very cold, and it is better to sleep in a calli than in the
open air."
He rose without further discussion, and re-entered the hut with the calm
step of a man delighted with the warning he has received. A great fire
was kindled in the interior of the calli, which, besides, was illumined
by a torch of ocote wood stuck in the ground, whose ruddy and
vacillating glare imparted a blood-red hue to surrounding objects. The
man whose charitable advice surprised Blue-fox, let the curtain fall
behind him, and entered after the chief. This man was Black-deer,
without uttering a syllable, he sat down before the fire, and began
arranging the logs with a certain degree of symmetry. Blue-fox gazed on
him for a moment with am undefinable expression, and then walked up and
stood by his side.
"My brothers, the Antelope Comanches," he said, with an almost
imperceptible tinge of irony in his voice, "are great warriors; they
understand the laws of hospitality better than any other nation."
"The Antelope Comanches," Black-deer answered, peaceably, "know that
Blue-fox is a renowned Chief, and one of the great braves of the Buffalo
Apaches; they are anxious to do him honour."
The Chief bowed.
"Does this honour go so far as to compel so great a warrior as my
brother to watch over my sleep?"
"My brother is the guest of the Antelopes, and in that quality has a
claim to all possible attention."
Like two experienced duellists the Chiefs had crossed swords; having
felt their blades, they perceived that they were of equal strength, and
each fell back a step to continue the engagement on new ground.
"Then," Blue-fox continued, "my brother will remain in the calli with
me."
The Chief gave a nod of assent.
"Wah! I know for what reason the Comanche Sachems treat me thus: they
are aware that Black-deer and Blue-fox, though each adopted by a
different tribe, are yet brothers of the great and powerful nation of
the Snake Pawnees; hence they suppose that the two Chiefs would be
pleased to converse together and recall their early years. My brother
will thank the Sachems of his nation for Blue-fox; I was far from
expecting so great a proof of courtesy on their part."
"My brother is rightly called the Fox," the Comanche replied, briefly,
with a bitter accent; "his craft is great."
"What does my brother mean?" the Apache went on with the greatest air of
surprise he could assume.
"I speak the truth, and my brother is well aware of it," Black-deer
answered; "why should we thus try to deceive each other? We have been
too long acquainted. Let my brother listen to me: the Antelope Comanches
are not, as the Apaches suppose them, inexperienced children, they know
for what purpose my brother has come to their winter atepetl."
"_Ohé!_" the Chief said, "I hear a mocking-bird singing in my ears, but
I do not at all understand what it means."
"Perhaps so, but to remove my brother's doubt I will speak to him
frankly."
"Can my brother do so?" the Apache continued, ironically.
"The Chief shall judge:--For some moons past the Buffalo Apaches have
been trying to take a brilliant revenge on the Comanches for a defeat
the warriors of my nation inflicted on them, but the Apaches are
chattering old women who possess no craft; the Comanches will give them
petticoats and send them to cut wood for them in the forests."
The Chief's eyebrows were almost meeting at this crushing insult; a
flash of fury burst from his eyes, but still he managed to overpower his
feelings. He drew himself up with supreme majesty and folded himself in
his buffalo robe.
"My brother, Black-deer, forgets to whom he is speaking," he said;
"Blue-fox is the envoy of his nation to the Comanches, he has sought
shelter under the totem of the Antelopes and smoked their sacred
calumet; his person must be respected."
"The Apache Chief is mistaken," Black-deer replied, with a disdainful
smile; "he is not the envoy of a brave nation, but only the spy of a
pack of savage dogs. While Blue-fox tries to deceive the Comanche
Sachems, and lull them to sleep in a treacherous serenity, the Apache
dogs are hidden like moles in the tall grass, awaiting the signal which
will surrender their defenceless enemies into their hands."
Blue-fox looked round the calli, and bounding like a jaguar, rushed on
his foeman, brandishing his knife.
"Die, dog!" he shouted.
Since the beginning of their singular conversation Black-deer had not
stirred, he had remained tranquilly crouching over the fire, but his
eyes had not lost one of the Apache's movements, and when the latter
rushed madly at him he started aside, and springing up with extreme
rapidity, seized the Chief in his nervous arms and both rolled on the
ground, intertwined like serpents. In their fall they fell on the torch,
which was extinguished; hence, the terrible and silent conflict went on
between the two men by the uncertain gleam of the fire, each striving to
stab his enemy. They were both of nearly the same age, their strength
and skill were equal, and an implacable hatred animated them; in this
horrible duel, which must evidently terminate in the death of one of
them, they disdained the usual tricks employed in such fights, as they
cared little about death so long as their enemy received the mortal blow
simultaneously.
Still, Blue-fox had a great advantage over his adversary, who, blinded
by fury, and not calculating any of his movements, could not long
sustain this deadly contest without himself becoming a victim to the
insensate rage which had urged him to attack the Comanche. The latter,
on the contrary, completely master of himself, acted with the greatest
prudence, and by the way he had seized his enemy had pinned his arms
and rendered it impossible for him to employ his weapons; all the
efforts of Black-deer tended to roll the Apache into the fire burning in
the centre of the calli.
They had been wrestling thus for a long time, foot against foot, chest
to chest, and it was as yet impossible to guess which would gain the
upper hand, when suddenly the curtain of the hut was raised, and a
brilliant light inundated the interior. Several men entered; they were
Comanche warriors. They arrived later than they should have done, for
all that took place at this moment had been arranged beforehand between
them and Black-deer, but they had been delayed by circumstances beyond
their control. Five minutes later their interference would have been
useless, as they would probably have found one of the two combatants
killed by the other, or perhaps raised two corpses, such fury and
vindictiveness were displayed in this atrocious struggle.
When Blue-fox saw the help that arrived for his enemy he judged the
position at a glance, and felt that he was lost; still, the cunning and
coolness innate with Indians did not abandon him at this supreme moment;
for Redskins, whatever may be the hatred they feel, do not kill an enemy
who openly allows that he is conquered. The Apache Chief, so soon as he
perceived the Comanches, ceased his efforts, and removed the arms which
had hitherto held Black-deer as in a vice; then, throwing back his head
and closing his eyes, he stood motionless.
Blue-fox was aware that he would be regarded as a prisoner and kept for
the stake of torture; but until the hour marked for his punishment
arrived he retained the hope of escaping, with whatever care he might be
guarded. This chance was the last left him, so he did not wish to lose
it.
Black-deer rose, greatly shaken by the rude embrace; but, instead of
striking his enemy, who lay disarmed at his feet, he returned his knife
to his belt. The Apache's calculations were correct: until the hour of
punishment arrived he had nothing to fear from his enemy.
"Blue-fox is a great brave, he fought like a courageous warrior," said
Black-deer; "as he must be fatigued he will rise, and the Comanche Chief
will show him all the consideration he deserves."
And he offered his hand to help him in rising. The Apache made no
movement to pick up his weapons, but frankly accepted the offered hand
and rose.
"The Comanche dogs will see a warrior die," he said, with an ironical
smile; "Blue-fox laughs at their tortures; they are not capable of
making one of his muscles quiver."
"Good! My brother will see," and turning to the Sachems, who stood
motionless and silent a few paces off, the Chief added; "when will this
warrior die?"
"Tomorrow at sunset," the most aged of the Indians laconically answered.
"My brother has heard," Black-deer continued; "has he any remark to
make?"
"Only one."
"My brother can speak, our ears are open."
"Blue-fox does not fear death, but ere he goes to hunt on the happy
hunting grounds, beneath the powerful eye of the Wacondah, he has
several important matters to settle on this earth."
The Comanches bowed in assent.
"Blue-fox," the Apache Chief continued, "has a necessity to return
among the warriors of his nation."
"How long will the Chief remain absent?"
"One whole moon."
"Good! What will the Chief do to insure his word, and that the Comanche
Sachems may put faith in what he says?"
"Blue-fox will leave a hostage."
"The Sachem of the Buffalo Apaches is a great brave; what warrior of his
nation can die in his stead, if he forget to liberate his pledge?"
"I will give the flesh of my flesh, the blood of my blood, the bone of
my bone. My son will take my place."
The Comanches exchanged a very meaning glance. There was a rather
lengthened silence, during which the Apache, haughtily folded in his
buffalo robe, stoically waited, and it was impossible to read in his
motionless features one of the emotions that agitated him. At length
Black-deer spoke again.
"My brother has recalled to my memory," he said, "the years of our
youth, when we were both children of the Snake Pawnees, and hunted in
company the elk and the asshata in the prairies of the Upper Missouri.
The early years are the sweetest; the words of my brother made my heart
tremble with joy. I will be kind to him; his son snail be my substitute,
though he is still very young; but he knows how to crawl like the
serpent and fly like the eagle, and his arm is strong in fight. But
Blue-fox will reflect before pledging his word. If on the evening of the
twenty-eighth sun my brother has not returned to take his place at the
foot of the stake of torture, his son will die."
"I thank my brother," the Apache replied in a firm voice, "on the
twenty-eighth sun I shall return: here is my open hand."
"And here is mine."
The two enemies clasped in cordial pressure the two hands which, a few
minutes before, had been seeking so eagerly to take each other's life;
then Blue-fox unfastened the cascabel skin that attached his long hair
in the form of a cap on the top of his head, and removed the white eagle
plume fixed above his right ear.
"My brother will lend me his knife," he said.
"My brother's knife is at his feet," the Comanche answered cautiously;
"so great a warrior must not remain unarmed. He can pick it up."
The Chief stooped, picked up his knife, and thrust it in his girdle.
"Here is the plume of a Chief," he said as he gave it to Black-deer,
cutting off a tress of the long hair, which, being no longer fastened,
fell in disorder on his shoulders; he added, "My brother will keep this
lock, it forms part of the scalp that belongs to him: the Chief will
come to ask it back on the appointed day and hour."
"Good!" the Comanche answered, taking the hair and the plume, "My
brother will follow me."
The Comanches, unmoved spectators of this scene, shook their torches to
revive the flame, and all the Indians leaving the calli, proceeded in
the direction of the Medicine Lodge, which stood, as we have seen, in
the centre of the square between the ark of the first man and the stake
of torture. It was toward the latter that the Chiefs proceeded with that
slow and solemn step they employ in serious matters. As they passed in
front of the callis, the curtains were raised, the inhabitants came out,
holding torches, and followed the procession. When the Chiefs reached
the stake, an immense crowd filled the square, but it was silent and
reflecting.
There was something strange and striking in the scenes offered at this
moment by the square, under the light of the torches, whose flame the
wind blew in all directions. The Chiefs halted at the foot of the stake
and formed a semicircle, in the centre of which Blue-fox stationed
himself.
"Now that my brother has given his pledge, he can summon his son," said
Black-deer; "the lad is not far off, I dare say."
The Apache smiled cunningly.
"The young of the eagle always follows the powerful flight of its
parent," he replied; "the warriors will part to the right and left to
grant him a passage."
At a silent sign from Black-deer there was a movement in the crowd,
which fell back and left a passage through the centre; Blue-fox then
thrust his fingers in his mouth, and imitated thrice the call of the
hawk. In a few minutes a similar but very faint cry answered him. The
Chief renewed his summons, and this time the answer was shriller and
more distinct. For the third time the Apache repeated his signal, which
was answered close at hand; the rapid gallop of a horse became audible,
and almost immediately an Indian warrior dashed up at full speed. This
warrior crossed the entire square without evidencing the slightest
surprise. He stopped short at the foot of the stake, dismounted, and
placed himself by the side of Blue-fox, to whom he merely said--
"Here I am."
This warrior was the son of the Apache Chief, a tall and nobly-built lad
of sixteen to seventeen. His features were handsome, his glance was
haughty, his demeanour simple, and noble without boasting.
"This boy is my son," Blue-fox said to the Comanche Chiefs.
"Good!" they replied, bowing courteously.
"Does my son consent to remain as a hostage in the place of his father?"
Black-deer asked him.
The young man bowed his head in assent.
"My son knows that if his father does not come to liberate his pledge,
he will die in his place?"
A smile of contempt played round the boy's lips.
"I know it," he said,
"And my son accepts?"
"I do."
"Good!" the Chief continued, "Let my son look."
He then went up to the stake and fastened to it the feather and lock of
hair Blue-fox had given him.
"This feather and this hair will remain here until the man to whom they
belong returns to claim them," he said.
The Apache Chief answered in his turn--
"I swear on my totem to come and redeem them at the appointed time."
"Wah! My brother is free," Black-deer continued; "here is the feather of
a Chief; it will serve him as a recognition if the warriors of my nation
were to meet him. Still, my brother will remember that he is forbidden
communicating in any way with the braves of his nation ambushed round
the village."
"Blue-fox will remember it."
After uttering these few words without even exchanging a look with his
son, who stood motionless by his side, the Chief took the feather
Black-deer offered him, leaped on the horse which had brought the young
man, and started at a gallop, not looking back once. When he had
disappeared in the darkness, the Chiefs went up to the boy, bound him
securely, and confined him in the Medicine Lodge under the guardianship
of several warriors.
"Now," said Black-deer, "for the others."
And mounting his horse in his turn, he left the village.