THE TLACATEOTZIN.[1]
Two hours after sunrise, Flying Eagle returned to the camp, followed
by Eglantine: the council immediately assembled to hear the news.
The young Indian woman had not learned much: it was contained in one
sentence.
The two Mexican girls were still in the city. Addick was absent, but
expected at any moment. These news, slight as they were, were, however,
good; for, though the details were wanting, the hunters knew that their
enemies had not yet had time to act. The point was now to get before
them and carry off the girls, ere they had time to prevent it. But
to do so, they must enter the city, and there lay the difficulty. A
difficulty which, at the first blush, appeared insurmountable.
In this moment of distress, all eyes were turned to Flying Eagle.
The Chief smiled. Through the expression of agony depicted on every
countenance, the Indian guessed what was expected of him. "The hour
has arrived," he said. "My Pale brothers demand of me the greatest
sacrifice they can demand of a Sachem--that is to say, to open to
them the gates of one of the last refuges of the Indian religion,
the principal sanctuary where still is preserved intact the law of
Tlhui-camina,[2] the greatest, the most powerful, and most unhappy of
all the sovereigns who have governed the country of Hauahuac: still,
in order to prove to my Pale brothers how red the blood is that flows
in my veins, and how pure and cloudless my heart is, I will do it for
them, as I have promised."
At the assurance given by Flying Eagle, whose word could not be
doubted, every face brightened. The Chief continued--"Flying Eagle has
no forked tongue; what he says, he does; he will introduce the great
Pale hunter into Quiepaa Tani; but my brothers must forget that they
are warriors and brave: cunning alone can make them triumph. Has the
great hunter of the Palefaces understood the words of the Chief? Is he
resolved to trust to his prudence and sagacity?"
"I will act as you point out, Chief," Marksman replied, for he knew
that the Comanche was addressing him. "I promise to let myself be
entirely guided by you."
"Wah!" the Indian continued, with a smile. "All is well, then: before
two hours, my brother will be in Quiepaa Tani."
"May Heaven grant it be so, and my poor child be saved!" Don Mariano
muttered.
"I have been long used to contend in cunning with Indians," the hunter
answered. "Up to the present, thanks to Heaven! I have always come off
pretty well from my meetings with them. I have good hopes of success
this time."
"We will hold ourselves in readiness to come to your aid, if needed,"
Don Miguel observed.
"Above all, take care not to be tracked; you know that traitor of a
Domingo has put them on your scent."
"Trust to me for that, Marksman," Brighteye eagerly interposed; "I know
what it is to play at hide and seek with the Indians. It is not the
first time this happens to me; and I remember, in 1845, at the hour I
was--"
"I know," the Canadian cut him short, "that you are not the man to let
yourself be surprised, my friend, and that is enough for me; but keep a
good lookout, so as to be ready at the first signal."
"And what will that signal be? for we must understand one another
thoroughly, in order to avoid any misunderstanding, which, annoying at
all times, would, in our present circumstances, be utter ruin."
"You are right. When you hear the cry of the hawk repeated thrice, at
equal intervals, then you must act vigorously."
"That is understood," Brighteye said; "trust to me for that."
"I am ready," Marksman said to the Chief. "What must I do?"
"In the first place, dress yourself," Flying Eagle answered.
"What! dress myself?" the hunter said, surveying his person with
surprise.
"Wah! does my brother fancy he will enter Quiepaa Tani in his Paleface
clothes?"
"That is true; an Indian disguise is absolutely necessary. Wait a
minute."
The _travestissement_ did not take long to effect. Eglantine modestly
retired into the forest, so as not to be present at the hunter's
toilet. In a few minutes Marksman took from his alforjas a razor, with
which he removed beard and moustache. During this time the Chief had
plucked a plant, which grew abundantly in the forest. After extracting
the juice, Flying Eagle helped the Canadian, who had removed all his
garments, to stain his body and face. Then the Chief drew on his chest
an _ayotl_, or sacred tortoise, accompanied by several fantastic
ornaments that had nothing warlike about them, and which he reproduced
on his face. After that, he gave the hunter's black hair a white tinge,
intended to make him look very aged; for among the Indians the hair
retains its colour for a long period. He knotted his curls on the top
of his head, after the fashion of the Yumas--the most travelled of the
Redskins--and to the left of this tuft, to show that it adorned the
head of a pacific Chief, he fixed a passagallo feather, instead of a
scalp lock, as is the custom with the warriors.
When these preparations were completed, Flying Eagle asked the
Europeans, who had curiously followed the metamorphosis, how they liked
their comrade.
"My word," Brighteye answered, simply, "if I had not been present
at the transformation, I should not recognize him; and, by the way,
I remember a singular adventure that occurred to me in 1836. Just
imagine--"
"Well, and what do you say?" the Indian continued, pitilessly cutting
the Canadian short, and turning to Don Miguel.
The latter could not refrain from laughing on looking at the hunter. "I
consider him hideous; he bears such a resemblance to a Redskin, that I
feel sure he can risk it boldly."
"Och! the Indians are very clever," the Chief muttered. "Still, I
believe that, disguised thus, if my brother is willing thoroughly to
represent the character he has assumed, he has nothing to fear."
"I mean to do it. Still, I would remark, Chief, that I do not yet know
what part you mean me to play."
"My brother is a Tlacateotzin--a great medicine man of the Yumas."
"By Jove! the idea is a good one. In that way I can get in anywhere."
The Comanche bowed with a smile.
"I shall be very clumsy, if I do not succeed," the hunter continued.
"But as I am a doctor, I must not forget to furnish myself with
medicaments."
Thereupon Marksman rummaged his alforjas, took out of them all that
might have compromised him, and only left in them a little box of
specifics, which he always carried about him,--a precious store he had
employed on many an occasion. He closed the alforjas, threw them on his
back, and turned to the Chief.
"I am ready," he said to him.
"Good. Myself and Eglantine will go in front, in order to make the road
easy for my brother."
The hunter gave a sign of assent. The Indian called his wife, and both,
after taking leave of the adventurers, went off.
So soon as the Chief was out of sight, the hunter in his turn said
good-bye to his comrades. It was, perhaps, the last time he would see
them; for who could foresee the fate reserved for him among these
ferocious Indians, into whose hands he was about defencelessly to
surrender himself?
"I will accompany you to the edge of the forest," Don Miguel said, "in
order fully to understand the means I must employ to be able to run up
at the first signal."
"Come," the hunter said, laconically.
They went away followed by the eyes of all their comrades, who saw
Marksman depart with an indescribable feeling of anxiety and sorrow.
The two men walked side by side, without exchanging a word. The
Canadian was plunged in deep thought; Don Miguel seemed a prey to an
emotion which he could not succeed in overcoming. In this way they
reached the last trees of the forest. The hunter stopped. "It is here
we must part," he said to his companion.
"That is true," the young man muttered, as he looked sadly around. Then
he was silent. The Canadian waited a moment. Seeing, at length, that
Don Miguel would not speak, he asked him,--"Have you anything to say to
me?"
"Why do you ask me that question?" the young man asked him, with a
start.
"Because," the hunter answered, "you have not come so far, Don Leo,
merely to enjoy my company a little longer. You must, I repeat, have
something to say to me."
"Yes, it is true," he said, with an effort; "you have guessed it. I
wish to speak with you; but I know not how it is, my throat rises.
I cannot find words to express my feelings. Oh, if I possessed your
experience, and your knowledge of Indian language, no other than
myself, I assure you, Marksman, would have gone to Quiepaa Tani."
"Yes, it must be so," the hunter muttered, speaking to himself, rather
than answering his friend; "and why should it not be so? Love is the
sun of youth. All love in this world. Why should two handsome and
well-made beings alone remain insensible to each other and not love?
What do you wish me to say to them for you?" he added quickly.
"Oh!" the young man exclaimed, "you perceived, then, that I loved her?
You are master, then, of the secret which I did not dare to confess to
myself!"
"Do not be alarmed about that, my friend. The secret is as safe in my
heart as in yours."
"Alas, my friend! the words I should wish to say to her my mouth alone
could utter with the hope of making them reach her heart. Say nothing
to her, that will be best; but you can tell her that I am here, and
watching over her, and that I shall die or she will be free soon in her
father's arms."
"I will tell her all that, my friend."
"And then," he added, breaking, by a feverish movement, a little steel
chain round his neck, which held a small bag of black velvet, "take
this amulet. It is all that is left to me of my mother," he said,
with a sigh; "she hung it round my neck on the day of my birth. It is
a sacred relic--a piece of the true cross, blessed by the pope; give
it to her, and let her guard it preciously, for it has preserved me
from many perils. That is all I can do for her at this moment. Go,
my friend, save her, as I am compelled to form silent vows for her
deliverance. You love me, Marksman. I will only add one word,--from the
attempt you make at this moment my life or death will result. Farewell!
farewell!"
Seizing the hunter's hand with a nervous movement, he pressed it
forcibly several times, and, turning quickly away, not to let his
tears be seen, he rushed into the forest, where he disappeared, after
making a last sign with his hand to his friend, who was watching his
departure. After Don Miguel's departure, the Canadian stood for a
moment a prey to extraordinary sorrow. "Poor young man!" he muttered,
with a profound sigh, "is that the state people are in when they love?"
In a moment he overcame the strange emotion which contracted his heart,
and boldly raised his head. "The die is cast!" he said. "Forward!" Then
assuming the easy, careless step of an Indian, he proceeded, slowly to
the plain, while looking inquiringly around him.
In the brilliant beams of the sun, which had risen radiantly, the green
plain the hunter was crossing assumed a really enchanting appearance.
As on the first occasion when he came to this country, all was in
motion around him.
The Canadian, who, by the help of his new exterior, was able to
examine at his leisure all that went on around him, curiously examined
the animated scene he had before his eyes: but what most fixed his
attention was a band of horsemen in their war costume, or rather paint,
armed with those long javelins and barbed spears which they wield with
such dexterity, and whose wounds are so dangerous. Most of them also
carried a strong rifle and a reata at their girdle, and, marching in
good order, they advanced at a trot towards the city, seeming to come
from the opposite direction to that which the hunter was following.
The numerous persons spread over the plain had stopped to examine them.
Marksman, profiting by this circumstance, hurried on to mingle with the
crowd, among whom, as he hoped, he was speedily lost, no one thinking
of paying the slightest attention to him. The horsemen continued to
advance at the same pace, not appearing to notice the curiosity they
excited. They were soon about forty yards from the principal gateway.
On arriving there they were stopped At the same moment, three horsemen
galloped out of the city, bounded over the drawbridge, and went to
meet them. Three warriors then left the first party and approached
them. After a few hastily exchanged words, the six horsemen rejoined
the detachment, which had remained motionless in the rear, and entered
the city with it. Marksman, who followed the party closely, neared
the gate at the very moment the last horseman disappeared in the
city. The hunter understood that the moment for boldness had arrived.
Assuming the most careless air he could put on, although his heart
was ready to burst, he presented himself in his turn for admission.
He noticed Flying Eagle and his squaw standing some distance off, and
conversing with an Indian who seemed to hold a certain rank. This
doubled the bold Canadian's courage; he crossed the bridge undauntedly,
and arrived with apparent stoicism at the gateway. A lance was then
levelled before him, and barred his passage. At a sign from Flying
Eagle, the Indian with whom he had been speaking left him and proceeded
toward the gate. He was a tall warrior, to whom his iron-grey hair
and the numerous wrinkles in his face imparted a certain character of
gentleness, intelligence, and majesty. He said a word to the sentry,
who was barring the hunter's passage; he raised his lance at once, and
fell back a few paces with a respectful bow. The old Indian made the
Canadian a sign to enter. "My brother is welcome in Quiepaa Tani," he
said gracefully, as he saluted the hunter; "my brother has friends
here."
Marksman, owing to the life he had so long led on the prairies, spoke
several Indian dialects with as much fluency as his mother-tongue.
From the question the Redskin addressed to him, he felt that he was
backed up; he therefore assumed the necessary coolness to play his part
properly, and answered,--"Is my brother a Chief?"
"I am a Chief."
"Och! let my brother question me. Ometochtli will answer."
In thus changing his personality, as it were, the hunter had been
careful to change his name also. After a long and barren research, he
at length selected that of Ometochtli, as best adapted to the person
he wished to represent; for, despite its apparently formidable look,
it simply means "two rabbits," a most inoffensive name, and perfectly
coinciding with the hunter's new character.
"I shall not question my brother," the Chief said, cautiously. "I know
who he is and whence he comes. My brother is one of the adepts of the
great medicine, of the wise nation of the Yumas."
"The Chief is well informed," the hunter remarked. "I see that he has
spoken with Flying Eagle."
"Has my brother left his nation for long?"
"It will be seven moons at the first leaves since I put on the
moccasins of a hunter."
"Wah!" the Chief continued, with a certain appearance of respect;
"where are the hunting grounds of my brother's nation situated?"
"Near the great shoreless lake."
"Does my brother intend to practise medicine at Quiepaa Tani?"
"I have only come here for that purpose, and to worship the Wacondah in
the magnificent temple which the piety of the Indians has raised to him
in the holy city."
"Very good. My brother is a wise man; his nation is peaceful," he said,
as he raised his head, and drew up his tall form, proudly. "I am a
warrior, and my name is Atozac."
By a strange accident, the first Indian with whom Marksman conversed
was the same who received Addick, and whose wife was selected by the
High Priest to serve as his interpreter with the maidens.
"My brother is a great Chief," he replied to the Indian's words.
The latter bowed with superb modesty on receiving this flattering
remark. "I am a son of the sacred tribe to whom the guardianship of the
temple is confided," he said.
"May the Wacondah bless the race of my brother."
The Chief was completely under the charm; the hunter's compliments had
intoxicated him. "My brother, Two Rabbits, will follow me. We will join
the friends who are awaiting us, and then proceed to my _calci_, which
will be his during the whole period of his stay in Quiepaa Tani."
Marksman bowed respectfully. "I am not worthy, to shake the dust off my
moccasins on the threshold of his door."
"The Wacondah blesses those who practise hospitality, my brother. Two
Rabbits is the guest of a Chief; let him follow me, then."
"I will follow my brother, since such is his will."
And, without further resistance, he began walking behind the old Chief,
charmed in his heart at having emerged so well from the first trial.
As we said, Flying Eagle and Eglantine had stopped a few paces off,
and they soon found them. All four, without uttering a word, proceeded
toward the house inhabited by the Chief, which was situated at the
other extremity of the city. This long walk allowed the hunter to
take a look at the streets which he crossed, and obtain a superficial
acquaintance with Quiepaa Tani. They at length reached the Chief's
house. Heutotl--the Pigeon--Atozac's wife, seated cross-legged on a
mat of maize straw, was making tortillas, probably intended for her
husband's dinner. Not far from her were three Or four female slaves,
belonging to that bastard race of Indians to which we have already
alluded, and to which the title of savages may be justly applied. When
the Chief and his guests entered the cabin, the Pigeon and her slaves
raised their eyes in curiosity.
"Heutotl," the Chief said, with dignity, "I bring you strangers. The
first is a great and renowned Comanche Sachem. You know him already, as
well as his squaw."
"Flying Eagle and Eglantine are welcome in the _calci_ of Atozac," she
answered.
The Comanche bowed slightly, but did not utter a word.
"This one," the Chief continued, pointing toward the hunter, "is a
celebrated Tlacateotzin of the Yumas. His name is Two Rabbits; he will
also dwell with us."
"The words I addressed to the Sachem of the Comanches, I repeat for the
great medicine man of the Yumas," she said with a gentle smile; "the
Pigeon is his slave."
"My mother will permit me to kiss her feet," the Canadian said,
politely.
"My brother will kiss my face," the Chief's wife responded, holding up
her cheek to Marksman, who respectfully touched it with his lips.
"My brothers will take a draught of pulque," the Pigeon continued; "the
roads are long and dusty, and the sunbeams hot."
"Pulque refreshes the parched throat of travellers," Marksman answered.
The presentation was concluded. The slaves drew up butacas, on which
the travellers reclined. Vessels of red earth, greatly resembling the
Spanish alcaforas, filled with pulque, were brought in, and the liquor,
poured out by the mistress of the house in horn cups, was presented by
her to the strangers with that charming and attentive hospitality of
which the Indians alone possess the secret.
[1] Literally, the "Man-God," a name given by certain Comanche tribes
to those who practice the healing art.
[2] Surname of Motecuhzoma I.,--"He who shoots arrows up to the sky."
The hieroglyphic of this king is, in fact, an arrow striking heaven.