THE CONTEST.
The dwellers on the Mexican frontiers are accustomed to fight
continually with wild animals, both men and brutes, that continually
attack them. Hence the stranger was but slightly affected by the
unexpected visit of the two jaguars. Although his position between his
two ferocious enemies was somewhat precarious, and he did not at all
conceal from himself the danger he ran alone against two, he did not the
less resolve to confront them bravely. Not taking his eye off the jaguar
he had first seen, he went back a few steps obliquely, so as to have his
foes nearly opposite him, instead of standing between them. This
manoeuvre, which demanded some little time, succeeded beyond his hopes.
The jaguars watched him, licking their lips, and passing their paws
behind their ears with those graceful movements peculiar to the feline
race. The two wild beasts, certain of their prey, seemed to be playing
with it and not over eager to pounce on it.
While keeping his eye on the watch, the Mexican did not yield to any
treacherous feeling of security: he knew that the struggle he was about
to undertake was a supreme one, and he took his precautions. Jaguars
never attack a man unless forced by necessity; and the latter tried,
before all, to seize the horse. The noble animal, securely fastened by
its master, exhausted itself in efforts to break the bonds that held it,
and escape. It trembled with terror on scenting its ferocious enemies.
The stranger, when his precautions were completely taken, shouldered his
rifle for the second time. At this moment the jaguars raised their
heads, while laying back their ears and snuffing anxiously. An almost
imperceptible sound was audible in the bushes.
"Who goes there?" the Mexican asked in a loud voice.
"A friend, Don Miguel Zarate," was the reply.
"Ah! It is Don Valentine," the Mexican continued. "You have arrived just
in time to see some fine sport."
"Ah, ah!" the man who had already spoken went on. "Can I help you?"
"It is useless; but make haste if you want to see."
The branches were sharply drawn aside, and two men appeared in the
clearing. At the sight of the jaguars they stopped, not through alarm,
for they quietly placed the butts of their rifles on the ground, but in
order to give the hunter every facility to emerge victoriously from his
rash combat.
The jaguars seemed to comprehend that the moment for action had arrived.
As if by one accord, they drew themselves up and bounded on their enemy.
The first, struck in its leap by a bullet which passed through its right
eye, rolled on the ground, where it remained motionless. The second was
received on the point of the hunter's machete, who after discharging his
rifle, had fallen on his knee, with his left arm folded in his blanket
in front, and the machete in the other hand. The man and the tiger
writhed together in a deadly embrace, and after a few seconds only one
of the adversaries rose: it was the man. The tiger was dead: the
hunter's machete, guided by a firm hand, had passed right through its
heart.
During this rapid fight the newcomers had not made a sign, but remained
stoical spectators of all that was taking place. The Mexican rose,
thrust his machete in the grass to clean the blade, and turning coldly
to the strangers, said:
"What do you say to that?"
"Splendidly played," the first answered; "it is one of the best double
strokes I ever saw in my life."
The two men threw their rifles on their shoulders, and walked up to the
Mexican, who reloaded his piece with as much coolness and tranquillity
as if he had not just escaped from a terrible danger by a miracle of
skill.
The sun was sinking on the horizon, the shadow of the trees assumed a
prodigious length, and the luminary appeared like a ball of fire amid
the limpid azure of the heavens. The night would soon arrive, and the
desert was awaking. On all sides could be heard, in the gloomy and
mysterious depths of the virgin forest, the hoarse howling of the
coyotes and the other wild beasts, mingled with the song of the birds
perched on all the branches. The desert, silent and gloomy during the
oppressive heat of the day, emerged from its unhealthy torpor on the
approach of dark, and was preparing to resume its nocturnal sports.
The three men in the clearing collected dried branches, made a pile of
them and set fire to it. They doubtlessly intended to camp for a portion
of the night at this spot. So soon as the flames rose joyously, skyward
in long spirals, the two strangers produced from their game bags maize
tortillas, jerked meat, and a gourd of pulque. These various comestibles
were complacently spread out on the grass, and the three men began a
hunter's meal. When the gourd had gone the round several times, and the
tortillas had disappeared, the newcomers lit their Indian pipes, and the
Mexican rolled a papelito.
Although this meal had been short, it lasted, however, long enough for
night to have completely set in ere it was ended. Perfect darkness
brooded over the clearing, the ruddy reflections of the fire played on
the energetic faces of the three men, and gave them a fantastic
appearance.
"And now," the Mexican said, after lighting his cigarette, "I will, with
your permission, explain to you why I was so anxious to see you."
"One moment," one of the hunters answered. "You know that in the deserts
the leaves have often eyes, and the trees ears. If I am not mistaken in
your hints, you invited us here that our interview might be secret."
"In truth, I have the greatest interest in nothing of what is said here
being overheard, or even suspected."
"Very good. Curumilla, to work."
The second hunter rose, seized his rifle and disappeared noiselessly in
the gloom. His absence was rather long; but as long as it lasted, the
two men left at the fire did not exchange a syllable. In about half an
hour the hunter returned, however, and seated himself by his comrades'
side.
"Well?" the one who had sent him off asked him.
"My brother can speak," he replied laconically; "the desert is quiet."
On this assurance the three men banished all anxiety. Still prudence did
not abandon them: they took up their pipes, and turned their backs to
the fire, so that they might watch the neighbourhood while conversing.
"We are ready to listen to you," the first hunter said.
"Listen to me with the greatest attention," the Mexican began; "what you
are about to hear is of the utmost importance."
The two men bowed silently, and the Mexican prepared to speak again.
Before going further we must introduce to the reader the two men we have
just brought on the stage, and go back a few paces in order to make it
perfectly understood why Don Miguel Zarate, in lieu of receiving them at
his own house, had given them the meeting in the heart of the virgin
forest.
The two hunters seemed at the first glance to be Indians; but on
examining them more attentively, you could recognise that one of them
belonged to those white trappers whose boldness has become proverbial in
Mexico. Their appearance and equipment offered a singular medley of
savage and civilised life. Their hair was of a remarkable length; for in
those countries, where a man is frequently only fought for the glory of
lifting his scalp, it is considered the thing to wear it long and easy
to seize.
The hunters had their hair neatly plaited, and intertwined with beaver
skins and bright coloured ribbons. The rest of their garb harmonised with
this specimen of their taste. A hunting shirt of bright red calico fell
down to their knees; gaiters decorated with woolen ribbons and bells
surrounded their legs; and their feet were shod with moccasins
embroidered with beads which the squaws know so well how to make. A
striped blanket, fastened round the hips by a belt of tanned deer hide,
completed their clothing, but was not so closely drawn that at their
every movement the butt of the pistols and the hilt of the machetes
might be seen glistening. As for their rifles, useless at this moment,
and carelessly thrown on the ground by their side, if they had been
stripped of the plume-worked elk skin that covered them, it would have
been possible to see, with what care their owners had decorated them
with copper nails painted of various colours; for all about these two men
bore the imprint of Indian habits.
The first of the two hunters was a man of thirty-eight at the most, tall
and well-built; his muscular limbs denoted great bodily strength, allied
to unequalled lightness. Although he affected all the manners of the
redskins, it was an easy matter to perceive that he not only belonged to
the unmixed white race, but also to the Norman or Gaulish type. He was
fair; his large, blue and pensive eyes, adorned with long lashes, had an
expression of undefinable sadness: his nose was slightly aquiline; his
mouth large, and filled with teeth of dazzling whiteness; a thick
chestnut beard covered the lower part of his face, which revealed
gentleness, kindness, and courage without boasting, though the whole
were combined with a will of iron.
His companion evidently belonged to the Indian race, all the
characteristic signs of which he displayed; but, strange to say, he was
not coppery like the American aborigines of Texas and North America; and
his skin was brown and slightly of an olive hue. He had a lofty brow, a
bent nose, small but piercing eyes, a large mouth and square chin; in
short, he presented the complete type of the American race, which
inhabits a limited territory in the South of Chili. This hunter had
round his brow a purple-coloured fillet, in which was thrust over the
right ear a plume of the Andes Eagle, a sign which serves to distinguish
the chiefs of the Aucas.
These two men, whom the reader has doubtless already recognised, as they
played an important part in our previously published works[1], were
Valentine Guillois, an ex-noncommissioned officer in the Spahis, and
Curumilla, his friend--Ulmen of the Great Hare tribe.
We will introduce a parenthesis to explain their present position, and
which is indispensable for a right understanding of what follows. The
moment is capitally selected, by the way, for opening this parenthesis;
for the three hunters are gaily talking round their fire, the night is
gloomy, the forest quiet, and it does not appear likely that anything
will arise to disturb them.
[1] "The Chief of the Aucas," "The Tiger Slayer," "The Gold Finders,"
"The Indian Chief."