CHAPTER XVIII.

THE COUNCIL OF THE SACHEMS.

Although the chiefs had guessed from Stronghand's gestures what was

going on between him and the American bandit, not one of them made the

slightest allusion to Kidd's departure, or even seemed to notice it.

The Canadian trapper, named Whistler, alone went up to the hunter, and

pressing his hand, said, with a coarse laugh--

"By heavens! Comrade, you did not miss your game, but brought it down

at the first shot. Receive my sincere congratulations for having freed

us of that skunk, who is neither fish nor flesh, and whose roguish face

did not at all please me."

"It would please you much less, my good fellow, if you knew him," the

hunter replied, with a smile.

"I beg you to believe that I have no desire to form a closer

acquaintance with that pícaro; only too many like him may be met on the

prairies."

The chiefs had resumed their seats, and the council which had been

momentarily interrupted, was re-opened by Thunderbolt. The Indians,

though people think proper to regard them as savages, could give

lessons in urbanity and good breeding to the members of parliamentary

assemblies in old Europe. Among them a speaker is never interrupted

by those coarse and inopportune noises for which some M.P.'s seem to

possess a privilege. Each speaks in his turn. The speakers, who are

listened to with a religious silence, have the liberty of expressing

their ideas without fearing personalities, which are frequently

offensive. When the debate is closed, the speaker--that is to say, the

oldest chief, or the one of the highest position either through bravery

or wisdom--sums up the discussion in a few words, takes the opinion of

the other chiefs, who vote by nodding their heads, and the minority

always accepts, without complaint or recrimination of any sort, the

resolution of the majority.

Before going further, we will explain, in a few words, the cause of

the dissatisfaction which had induced the Indians to revolt once

again against the whites. At the period of the Spanish conquests,

the Indians, in spite of the obstinate assertions to the contrary,

were happy, or at any rate were, through the intelligent care of

the Government, placed in a situation which insured their existence

under very satisfactory conditions. It is indubitable that if Spain

had retained her colonies for fifty or sixty years longer, she would

have gradually succeeded in converting the aborigines of her vast

territories, attaching them to the cultivation of the soil, and making

them give up a nomadic existence, and adopt the far preferable life in

villages.

All Spanish America, both North and South, was covered with missions;

that is to say, agricultural colonies, established on a large scale;

where monks, in every way respectable, through their complete

abnegation of the enjoyments of the world, and their inexhaustible

charity, taught the Indians not only the paternal precepts of the

Gospel, and their duty to their neighbour, but preaching by example,

they became weavers, labourers, cobblers, and blacksmiths, in order to

make their docile apprentices more easily understand the way to set to

work. These missions contained, at the time of the War of Independence,

several hundred thousand Indians, who had given up their nomadic life

of hunting, and patiently assumed the yoke of civilization. This

magnificent result, obtained by courage and perseverance, and which

would have speedily resulted in the solution of a problem declared

to be insoluble--the emancipation of the red race, and its aptitude

to assume the sedentary condition of a town life, was unhappily not

carried further.

When the Mexicans had proclaimed their independence, their first care

was to destroy all that the Spaniards had raised, and utterly overthrow

the internal governmental system established by them. Naturally, the

missions were not exempted from this general overthrow; they were

perhaps more kindly treated than the institutions created by the old

oppressors. The philosophic spirit of the eighteenth century, when

it forced its way into Mexico, was naturally misunderstood and ill

appreciated by men who were plunged into the grossest ignorance, and

who believed that they displayed the independence and nobility of

their character by deadly hatred of the clergy, and abolishing their

prerogatives at one stroke. It is true that, by an inevitable reaction,

the Mexicans, whose revolution was almost entirely effected by priests,

and who, at the outset, displayed themselves as such daring skeptics,

ere long fell again, through their superstition, beneath the power of

the same clergy, and became more devoted slaves to them than ever.

Unfortunately, the death blow had been dealt to the missions or

agricultural colonies, although the Government recognized its mistake,

and sought by all means to palliate it. They never recovered, only

languished, and eventually the majority of them fell into ruin, and

were utterly abandoned by the Indians, who returned to that desert life

from which they had been drawn with such difficulty. Nothing is so

heart-rending as the sight now offered by these missions, which were

once so rich, so full of life, and so flourishing; only a few Indians

can be seen, wandering about like ghosts in the deserted cloisters, led

by an old, white-haired monk, whom they would not leave, and who had

vowed to die among his children.

The Mexican Government did not stop here. Returning to the old errors

of the conquistadors, it grew accustomed to regard the Indians as

slaves; imposing on them exorbitant tariffs for articles of primary

necessity, which it sold to them through special agents, bowing them

to any Draconian law, and carrying their injustice so far as to deny

them intellect, and brand them with the name of _Gente sin razón_, or

people without reason. The consequences of such a system can be easily

comprehended. The Indians, who, at the outset, contented themselves

with passively withdrawing, and seeking in the desert the liberty that

was refused them, on finding themselves so unjustly treated, and urged

to desperation by such insults, thought about avenging themselves, and

requiting evil for evil.

Then recommenced those periodical invasions of the Indian borders which

the Spaniards had repressed with such difficulty and such bloodshed.

Murder and pillage were organized on a grand scale, and with such

success, that the Comanches and Apaches, to vex the whites, gave the

ironical name of the "Mexican moon" to the month they selected to

commit their periodical depredations. The subjected Indians--that is to

say, those who, in spite of the constant vexations to which they were

victims, remained attached to their villages--revolted several times,

and on each occasion the Mexican government succeeded in making them

return to their duty by promises and concessions, which were violated

and forgotten so soon as the Redskins had laid down their arms. The

war, consequently, became generalized and permanent in the Border

states of the confederation.

But with the exception of a few invasions more serious than others,

the Indians had almost entirely confined themselves to keeping the

whites on the alert, when the great insurrection of 1827 broke out,

which all but succeeded in depriving Mexico of her richest provinces.

This insurrection was the more terrible, because on this occasion

the Indians, guided by experienced chiefs, possessing firearms, and

carrying out tactics entirely different from those they had hitherto

employed, waged a serious war, and insisted on retaining the provinces

they had seized. The Redskins elected an emperor and established

a government; they displayed a settled intention of definitively

regaining their independence and reconstituting their nationality.

The Mexicans, justly terrified by these manifestations, made the

greatest sacrifices in order to quell this formidable revolt, and

succeeded, though rather owing to the treachery and disunion they

managed to sow among the chiefs than by the power of their arms. But

this uprising had caused them to reflect, and they saw that it was high

time to come to an arrangement with these men, whom they had hitherto

been accustomed to regard as irrational beings. Peace was concluded on

conditions very advantageous to the Indians and their forces; and the

Mexicans, owing to the fright they had endured, were compelled to keep

their promises, or, to speak more correctly, pretended to do so.

For several years the Indians, satisfied with this apparent

amelioration in the relations between them and the whites, remained

peacefully in their villages, and the Mexicans had only to defend

their borders against the attacks of the wild or unsubjected Indians.

This was a task, we are bound to confess, in which they were not very

successful; for the Indians eventually passed the limits the Spaniards

had imposed on them, permanently established themselves on the ruins

of the old Creole villages, and by degrees, and gaining ground each

year, they reduced the territory of the Mexican Government in an

extraordinary way.

Still, when the remembrance of the great Indian insurrection seemed

to have died out, and the Indios Mansos had apparently accepted the

sovereignty of Mexico, the annoyances recommenced. Though at first

slight, they gradually became more and more frequent, owing to the

apathetic resignation of the Indians, and the patience with which they

uncomplainingly endured the unjust aggressions of which they were made

the systematic victims. The concessions granted under the pressure of

fear were brutally withdrawn, and matters returned to the same state as

before the insurrection. The Indians continued to suffer, apparently

resigned to endure all the insults it might please their oppressors to

make them undergo: but this calm concealed a terrific storm, and the

Mexicans would shortly be aroused by a thunderclap.

The Redskins behaved, under the circumstances, with rare prudence

and circumspection, in order not to alarm the persons they wished to

surprise. They would certainly have succeeded in deceiving the Mexicans

as to their plans, had it not been for the treachery of the agents of

the Mexican Government, continually kept in their villages to watch

them, among whom was Kidd, whom Stronghand had so suddenly unmasked and

contemptuously turned out. Still these agents, in spite of their lively

desire to make themselves of importance by magnifying facts, had only

been able to give very vague details about the conspiracy the Indians

were secretly forming. They knew that an emperor had been elected, and

that he was a white man, but they did not know who he was or his name.

They also knew that the Confederation of the Papazos had placed itself

at the head of the movement, and intended to deal the first blow, but

no one was aware when or how hostilities would commence.

This information, however, incomplete though it was, appeared to the

Mexicans, on whose minds at once rushed the sanguinary memories of the

last revolution, sufficiently serious for them to place themselves in

a position to resist the first attack of the Redskins, which is always

so terrible, and to place their frontiers in such a state as would

prevent a surprise--a thing they had never yet succeeded in effecting.

The Mexican Government, warned of what was going on by the commandants

of the States of Sonora and Sinaloa, the two most menaced of the

Confederation, and recognising the gravity of the case, resolved to

send troops from the capital to reinforce the border garrisons. This

plan, unfortunately, could not be carried out, and was the cause of

fresh and very dangerous complications.

It is only in the old Spanish colonies, which are in the deepest state

of neglect and disorganization, that such acts are possible. The troops

told off to proceed to Sonora, so soon as they learned that they were

intended to oppose the Indians, peremptorily refused to march, alleging

as the reason, that they were not at all desirous of fighting savages

who did not respect the law of nations, and had no scruples about

scalping their prisoners. The President of the republic, strong in his

right and the danger the country ran, tried to insist and force them to

set out. Then a thing that might be easily foreseen occurred: not only

did the troops obstinately remain in revolt, but set the seal on it by

making a pronunciamiento in favour of the general chosen to command the

expedition, and who, we may do him the justice of saying, had been the

first to declare against the departure of the troops from the capital.

This pronunciamiento was the spark that fired the powder train. In a

few days the whole of Mexico was a prey to the horrors of civil war;

so that the governors of the two States, being reduced to their own

forces, and not knowing whether they would retain their posts under

the new president, were more embarrassed than ever, did not dare

take any initiative, and contented themselves with throwing up such

intrenchments as they could, though they had quite enough to do in

keeping their troops to their duty, and keeping them from deserting.

Such was the state of things at the moment we have now reached. This

information, upon which we have purposely laid a stress, in order

to make the reader understand certain facts which, without this

precaution, would seem to belong rather to the regions of fancy than to

that of history, as they are so strange and incredible, was reported

by Stronghand to the council of the sachems, and listened to in a

religious silence.

"Now," he added, in conclusion, "I believe that the moment has arrived

to strike the grand blow for which we have so long been preparing. Our

enemies hesitate; they are demoralized; their soldiers tremble; and I

am convinced they will not withstand the attack of our and the great

Beaver's warriors. This is what I wished to say to the council. Still

it was not advisable that such important news should reach the ears of

our enemies. The sachems will judge whether I have acted well, or if my

zeal carried me too far in dismissing from the council a paleface who,

I am convinced, is a traitor sold to the Mexicans. I have spoken."

A flattering murmur greeted the concluding remarks of the young man,

who sat down, blushing.

"It appears to me," Whistler then said, "that the debate need not be

a long one. As war is decided on, the council of the Confederation

has only to seek allies among the other Indian nations, in order to

augment the number of our warriors, if that be possible. As regards the

operations, and the period when the Mexican territory is to be invaded,

that will devolve on the military committee, who pledge themselves to

the profoundest secrecy about their discussions, until the hour for

action arrives. I have spoken."

Thunderbolt rose.

"Chiefs and sachems of the Confederation of the Papazos," he said in

his sympathetic and sonorous voice, "and you, warriors, our allies, the

moment for dissolving your council has at length arrived. Henceforth

the committee of the five chiefs will alone sit. Each of you will

return to his tribe, arm his warriors, and order the scalp dance to

be performed round the war post; but the eighth sun must see you here

again at the head of your warriors, in order that all may be ready to

act when the invasion is decided on. I have spoken. Have I said well,

powerful men?"

The chiefs rose in silence, resumed their weapons, and immediately left

the village, starting in different directions at a gallop. Thunderbolt

and Stronghand were left alone.

"My son," the old man then said, "have you nothing to tell me?"

"Yes, father," the young man respectfully answered; "I have very

serious news for you."

Stronghand; or, The Noble Revenge · 第 18 / 27 章