THE COUNCIL.
Flying Eagle, since the commencement of the expedition, in which
he had consented to take a share, had constantly played a passive
part, accepting, without discussion, the combinations proposed by
Marksman, executing frankly and faithfully the orders he received
from the hunter; in a word, entirely performing the part of a warrior
subordinate to a chief whose duty it is to think for him: hence the
new attitude suddenly assumed by the Sachem filled the Canadian with
surprise, for he had no notion on what subject the debate was about to
turn, and he feared in his heart lest, in the critical situation he
was in at the moment, the Comanche intended to leave him to his own
resources, or, perhaps, raise obstacles to the execution of his plans.
Hence he impatiently awaited the explanation of his ally's strange
conduct.
The Chief, still apathetic, rose, and bowing once again, began to
speak:--"Palefaces, my brothers," he said, in his guttural and
sympathetic voice, "for more than a moon we have been together on the
same path, sharing the same fatigue, sleeping side by side, eating
the produce of the same chase; but the chief you admitted to share
your labour and perils has not, till this day, been allowed to advance
so far in your confidence as a friend should do. Your heart has even
remained to him closed and covered with a thick cloud. Your projects
are as unknown to him as on the first day. The words your chest
breathes are and remain to him inexplicable riddles. Is this right? is
it just? No! Why did you summon me? Why did you beg me to accompany
you, if I am ever to remain a stranger to you? Up to the present I have
shut up in my heart the bitterness which your suspicious conduct caused
me. Not a complaint rose from my heart to my lips, on seeing myself
treated in a manner so ill suited to my rank and the relations I have
maintained with you. Even at this moment I would continue to maintain
silence if my friendship for you was not stronger than the resentment
caused by your ungenerous conduct toward me. We are on the holy land
of the Indians; the ground we tread on is sacred; perils surround us,
numberless snares are laid for our steps on all sides. Why should I
teach you to avoid them, if your plans are not at length revealed to
me, and unless I know whether the path we are following is that of war
or of hunting? Speak with frankness--take the skin from your heart,
as I have done from mine. Enlighten me as to the conduct you intend
to pursue, and the object you propose, so that I may aid you by my
counsels should that be necessary, and that, being your ally, I should
no longer be kept aloof from your deliberations, which is a disgrace to
the nation of which I have the honour to be a member, and unworthy of
a warrior like myself. I have spoken, brothers. I await your answer,
which I am convinced will be such as warriors so wise and experienced
as yourselves ought to give."
During the long speech of the Comanche Chief, Marksman had repeatedly
given signs of impatience, and, had he not feared making a breach in
the rules of Indian etiquette by interrupting him, he would certainly
have done so; it was with great difficulty he succeeded in restraining
himself and maintaining that apathetic appearance absolutely demanded
in such circumstances. So soon as the Chief took his place again, the
hunter rose, and after bowing to the audience, he spoke in a firm
voice, with these words:--"The Wacondah is great. He holds in his right
hand the hearts of all men, whatever their colour may be. He alone can
know their intentions and read their souls. The reproaches you address
to me, Chief, have an appearance of justice which I will not discuss
with you. You may have supposed, from the conduct which circumstances
have hitherto constrained me to hold toward you, that I did not grant
you all the confidence you so justly desired; but it is not so; I
waited till the hour for speaking arrived, not only to explain to you
my intentions, but also to claim your assistance and intervention. As
you wish me to explain myself at once, I will do so; but, perhaps, it
would have been better for you to wait till the forest in which we now
are was traversed."
"I will remark to my brother that I demand nothing of him. I thought it
my duty to make certain observations to him; if he does not find them
just, his heart is good. He will pardon me when he remembers that I am
only a poor Indian, whose intellect is obscured by a cloud, and that I
had no intention to wound him."
"No, no, Chief," the hunter said quickly; "as we are on this question,
it is better to clear it up at once, in order not to have to return to
it again, and that nothing may arise between us for the future."
"I am at my brother's orders, ready to hear, if it pleases him, and
willing still to wait, if he considers it necessary."
"I thank you, Chief; but I adhere to my first resolution. I prefer to
tell you all."
The Comanche smiled cunningly. "Is my brother really resolved to
speak?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Good. Then my brother has nothing to add. All that he has to say to me
I know. He can tell me nothing more than I have guessed myself."
The hunter could not repress a start of surprise. "Oh, oh," he
muttered, "what is the meaning of that, Chief? Why, then, the
reproaches you addressed to me?"
"Because I wished to make my brother understand that a friend must
hold nothing concealed from another, especially when that friend has
been proved for long years, when his fidelity is staunch, and he can be
depended on like a second self."
The hunter smiled slightly, but at once regained his gravity. "Thanks
for the lesson you give me, Chief," he said, holding out his hand
cordially. "I deserve it, for I really failed in my confidence to you.
The service I expect from you is so important for us that I put off
daily asking it of you, and, in spite of myself, I confess I should
probably not have made up my mind till the very last moment."
"I know it," the Comanche said, his good temper entirely restored.
"Still," the hunter continued, "in spite of the assurance that you know
my plans, it would be, perhaps, as well for me to enter into certain
details of which you are ignorant."
"I repeat to my brother that I know all. Flying Eagle is one of the
first Chiefs of his nation; he has a quick ear and a piercing sight.
For nearly two moons he has not left the great Pale warrior; during
that period many events have happened, many words have been spoken
before him. The Chief has seen, he has heard, and all is as clear in
his mind as if these things had been drawn for him on one of those
collars which the white men know so well how to make, and some of which
he has seen in the hands of the Chief of the Prayer."
"However great your penetration may be, Chief," the hunter objected, "I
can scarcely imagine you are so well acquainted with my intentions as
you suppose."
"Not only do I know my brother's intentions, but I am also aware of the
service he expects from me."
"By Jove! Chief, you will cause me enormous pleasure by telling it to
me; not that I doubt your penetration, for the red men are renowned for
their cleverness. Still, all this seems to me so extraordinary that I
should like to be convinced, were it only for my personal satisfaction,
and to prove to the persons who hear us how wrong we white men are in
imagining that we are so superior in intellect, when, on the contrary,
you Indians leave us far behind."
"Hum!" Domingo muttered, "what you say there is rather strong, old
hunter. It is notorious that the Indians are brute beasts."
"That is not my opinion," Don Mariano remarked, "though I know very
little of the Redskins, with whom I never entered into any connection
before this occasion. Still, since my arrival in these regions, I have
seen them accomplish acts so astonishing, that I should not feel at all
surprised if this Chief had completely read our plans, as he assures
us."
"I think so too," the hunter added. "However, we shall judge. Speak,
Chief, that we may know as soon as possible what opinion to form of the
penetration you flatter yourself with possessing."
"Flying Eagle is not a chattering old woman, who boasts rightly and
wrongly; he is a Sachem, whose deeds and words are ripely meditated. He
does not pretend to know more than his brothers, the Palefaces; still,
the experience he has acquired serves him in the place of wisdom, and
helps him to explain what he sees and hears."
"That is well, Chief. I know that you are a valiant and renowned
warrior. Our ears are open; we are listening to you with all the
attention you deserve."
"My brother, the great hunter, wishes to enter Quiepaa Tani, where the
two white maidens are sheltered, one of whom is the daughter of the
Chief with the grey beard. These two women were confided to an Apache
Sachem, called Addick. My brother, the hunter, is anxious to arrive at
Quiepaa Tani, because he fears treachery from the Apache Chief, whom he
suspects of having allied himself with the white man who was hired by
the Palefaces to carry off the two women, and make them disappear. I
have spoken. Have I truly understood the intentions of my brother, or
am I deceived?"
His auditors regarded each other with amazement. The Chief enjoyed his
triumph for a moment, and then continued--"Now, this is the service the
hunter wishes to ask of the Comanche Sachem--"
"By heavens, Chief!" Marksman exclaimed, "I must confess that all you
have said is true. How did you learn it? I know not how to explain it,
although I grant we have said enough on the subject in your presence to
enable you to guess it; but as for the service I expect from you, if
you can tell me that, I will allow you to be the greatest--"
"Let my brother not be rash," the Chief interrupted him, with a
proud smile, "lest he should soon take me for an adept of the great
_medicine_."
"Hum!" the hunter said, gravely, "I should not like to swear you are
not."
"Och! my brother shall judge. No Paleface has, till this day, succeeded
in entering Quiepaa Tani; still my brother wishes, at all hazards, to
visit the city, in order to obtain certain information about the two
pale virgins. Unfortunately, my brother does not know how to set about
his plan, nor how he would succeed in saving the maidens, if he found
them in danger. That is why he thought of Flying Eagle. He said to
himself that his red brother was a Chief, and must have friends or
relations in Quiepaa Tani; that the entrance to the city, forbidden
him through his colour, was not so to the Chief, and that Flying Eagle
would obtain for him the information he could not obtain himself."
"Yes, that is what I thought, Chief. Why should I conceal it? Am I
mistaken? Will you not do that for me?"
"I will do better," the Indian answered. "Let my brother listen.
Eglantine is a woman; no one will notice her; she will enter the city
unperceived, and obtain the information the hunter needs better than
the Chief can. When the moment for action arrives, Flying Eagle will
help the hunter."
"By Jove! you are right, Sachem; your idea is better than mine. It is
preferable in every respect that Eglantine should go on the discovery.
A woman cannot inspire suspicions, and she can learn news better than
anyone. Let us start, then, without any further delay. So soon as we
have crossed the forest, we will send her to the Tzinco."
Flying Eagle shook his head, and kept his hold of the hunter's arm, who
had already risen to set out. "My brother is quick," he said; "let me
say one word more."
"Let us see."
"Eglantine will go ahead; my brother will have news sooner."
Don Mariano rose, and pressed the Comanche's hand with emotion. "Thanks
for the good thought that has occurred to you, Chief," he said to him.
"You have delicate feelings; your heart is noble; it can sympathize
with a father's sorrow. Once again I thank you."
The Indian turned away, to conceal the trace of agitation on his face,
which, in his idea, was unworthy a Chief, who, under all circumstances,
must remain stoical.
"In truth," Marksman said, "the Chief's proposal will make us gain
precious time; his idea is excellent."
Flying Eagle made Eglantine a sign to approach him, which she at once
obeyed. The Chief then explained to her in his tongue what she was to
do, to which she listened with charming grace, standing timidly before
him. When Flying Eagle had given her his instructions most fully, and
she perfectly understood what was wanted of her, she turned gracefully
to Don Mariano and Marksman, and said, with a smile almost prophetic
--"Eglantine will learn."
These two words filled the poor father's heart with joy and hope.
"Bless you, young woman!" he said; "bless you, for the kindness you
show me at this moment, and that you intend to show me."
The separation between husband and wife was as it should be with
Indians; that is to say, grave and cold. Whatever love Flying Eagle
felt for his companion, he would have been ashamed, in the presence of
strangers, and above all of whites, to display the slightest emotion,
or allow the feelings of his heart towards her to be guessed. After
bowing once more to Don Mariano and Marksman in farewell, Eglantine
hastened away, with that quick and high step which renders the Indians
the first walkers in the world. Though the Chief's stoicism was so
great, still he looked after his young wife, until she disappeared
among the trees.
As nothing pressed them at the moment, the adventurers allowed the
great heat of the day to pass, and only set out when the declining
sun appeared like a ball of fire, almost on a level with the ground.
Their march was slow, owing to the countless difficulties they had
to surmount, in forcing their way through the intertwined creepers
and brambles, which they had to cut down with axes at every step. At
length, after a four days' march, during which they had to endure
extraordinary fatigue, they saw the trees growing more sparsely,
the scrub become less dense, and, between the trees they perceived
a deep and open horizon. Although the adventurers were in the heart
of a virgin forest, where, according to all probability, they could
not expect to meet anybody of their own species, they neglected no
precaution, and advanced very prudently in Indian file, with the finger
on the trigger, eye and ear on the watch; for being so near one of the
sacred Indian cities, they might expect, especially after the smart
skirmish a few days previous, to be tracked by scouts sent in search
of them. Toward the evening of the fourth day, at the moment they were
preparing to camp for the night in a vast clearing on the banks of a
nameless stream, so many of which are met with in the virgin forests,
Marksman, who was marching at the head of the little party, suddenly
stopped, and looked down on the ground, with signs of the utmost
astonishment.
"What is it?" Don Mariano anxiously asked him.
Marksman did not answer him; but he turned to the Indian Chief, and
said, with a certain degree of alarm, "Look yourself, Chief; this seems
to me inconceivable."
Flying Eagle stooped down in his turn, and remained a long time
examining the marks which seemed to trouble the hunter so greatly. At
length he rose.
"Well?" Marksman asked him.
"A band of horsemen has passed by here this very day," he replied.
"Yes," the hunter said; "but who are the horsemen? Where do they come
from? That is what I want to know."
The Indian resumed his inspection, with an attention more minute than
before. "They are Palefaces," after a pause, he said.
"What! Palefaces!" Marksman exclaimed, with a voice prudently
suppressed; "it is impossible! Think where we are. Never has a white
man, excepting myself, penetrated into these regions."
"They are Palefaces," the Chief insisted, "Look, one of them stopped
here and dismounted; here is the mark of his steps; his foot crushed
that tuft of grass; one of his nails in his shoe left a black line on
that stone."
"That is true," Marksman muttered; "the Indian moccasins do not leave
such marks. But who can these men be? How did they get here? What
direction have they followed?"
While Marksman was asking himself these questions, and hopelessly
seeking the solution of the problem, Flying Eagle had walked some
paces, attentively following the marks, which were perfectly plain on
the ground.
"Well, Chief," the hunter asked, as he saw him returning, "have you
found anything which can put us on the right scent?"
"Wah!" the Indian said, with a toss of his head. "The trail is fresh;
the horsemen are not far off."
"Are you sure of it, Chief? Remember how important it is for us to know
who the people are we have for neighbours."
The Comanche remained silent for a moment, plunged in serious thought.
Then he raised his head. "Flying Eagle," he said, "will try to satisfy
his brother. Let the Palefaces remain here till his return; the Chief
will take up the trail; he will soon tell the hunter if the men are
friends or enemies."
"By Jove! I will go with you, Chief," Marksman sharply replied. "It
shall not be said that, in order to be useful to us, you exposed
yourself to a serious danger, without having a friend near to back you
up."
"No," the Indian went on; "my brother must remain here; one warrior is
sufficient."
Marksman knew that, when once the Chief had formed a resolution,
nothing could make him alter it. Hence he no longer urged it. "Go
then," he said, "and act as you please. I know that what you do will be
right."
The Comanche threw his rifle over his shoulder, lay down on the ground,
and crawled like a serpent amid the underwood.
"And what are we to do?" Don Mariano asked.
"Await the Chief's return," Marksman answered; "and while doing so,
prepare supper, the need of which I am certain you are beginning to
feel, like myself."
The adventurers installed themselves, as well as they could, in the
clearing, following Marksman's advice, and awaiting the return of the
scout, whose absence, however, was much longer than they expected; for
night had fallen long before he made his appearance.