EXPLANATORY.
We are now compelled to go back a little way, in order to clear up
certain facts which necessarily remained in the shade, and which it is
urgent for the reader to know.
We have related how Don Estevan, Addick, and Red Wolf easily came to an
understanding, in order to obtain a common vengeance. But, as generally
happens in all treaties, each having begun by stipulating for his
private advantage, it fell out that Don Estevan was about to reap the
least profit from the partnership.
Few whites can rival the Redskins in craft and diplomacy. The Indians,
like all conquered peoples, bowed so long beneath a brutalizing yoke,
retained only one weapon, which is often deadly, however, by means
of which they contend most with success against their fortunate
adversaries. This weapon is cunning--the arm of cowards and the weak,
the defence of slaves against their masters.
The conditions offered by the two Indian Chiefs to Don Estevan were
clear and precise. The Chiefs, by means of the warriors they had at
their disposal, would help the Mexican in seizing and avenging himself
on his enemies, inflicting on them any punishment he thought proper;
in return, Don Estevan would make over his niece and the other maiden,
now prisoners at Quiepaa Tani, to the Chiefs, who would do to them what
they pleased, Don Estevan giving up all right of interference with
them. These conditions being well and duly defined, the Indian Chiefs
set to work in fulfilling the clauses of the treaty as quickly as
possible.
Red Wolf had a hatred for the two hunters and Don Miguel, which was
the more inveterate, because he had been conquered in the various
encounters he had with the three men. He, therefore, eagerly seized
the opportunity that offered to take his revenge, believing certain
this time of repaying his abhorred enemies all the humiliation they had
inflicted on him, and the ill they had done him.
In less than four days, Addick and Red Wolf succeeded in collecting
a band of nearly one hundred and fifty picked warriors--obstinate
enemies for the whites, and to whom the coming expedition was a real
party of pleasure. When Don Estevan saw himself at the head of so large
and resolute a band, his heart dilated with joy, and he felt himself
ensured of success; for what could Don Miguel attempt with the few men
he had at his disposal?
The road was long, almost impracticable. To reach Quiepaa Tani, it
was necessary to cross abrupt mountains, virgin forests, and immense
deserts; and even supposing the Gambusinos succeeded in overcoming
these seemingly insurmountable difficulties, when they arrived before
the city, what could they do? Would they, scarce thirty at most,
attempt to take by assault a city of nearly 20,000 souls, defended by
strong walls, surrounded by a wide moat, and containing 3,000 picked
men, the most renowned warriors of all the Indian nations, specially
entrusted with the defence of the sacred city, and who would, without
any hesitation, fall to the last man, sooner than surrender? Such a
supposition was absurd; hence Don Estevan dismissed it so soon as it
occurred to him.
The first care of the Indian Chiefs was to learn in what direction
their enemies were. Unfortunately for the Redskins, the arrangements
made by the hunters were so adroit, that they were compelled to follow
their enemy on three different trails, and break up their war party, if
they wished to watch the Gambusinos on all sides. This was the first
occasion of a dissension between the three associates. Addick and Red
Wolf, when the question of a separation arose, naturally wished each
to take the command of a body, an arrangement which displeased Don
Estevan, and to which he would not at all consent, remarking, with
some degree of justice, that in the affair they had in hand everything
depended on the Chiefs; that the warriors had nothing to do but watch
the movements of their enemy, while they, the Chiefs, must remain
together, in order to arrange the necessary combinations in their
plans, and be enabled to act with vigour when the occasion presented
itself. The truth was, that Don Estevan, forced by circumstances into
an alliance with the two Sachems, had not the slightest confidence in
his honourable associates. He despised them as much as he was despised
by them, and felt certain that, if he allowed them to leave him,
under any pretence, he should never see them again; that they would
desert him on the prairie, remorselessly leaving him to get out of
the dilemma in the best way he could. The Indians perfectly understood
their partner's thoughts, but, far too cunning to let him see they
had read them, they pretended to admit the reasons he gave them, and
recognize their correctness. The Chiefs, therefore, remained together
and pushed on, only accompanied by twenty men, and having divided the
others into two bands, to watch the Gambusinos.
Don Estevan was eager to reach Quiepaa Tani, in order to remove the
maidens from the city, and have them in his hands, in order, by
their presence, to stimulate the ardour of his allies. They set out.
A singular thing then happened. Six detachments of warriors were
following each other's trail for more than a month, each marching in
the footsteps of the previous one, and not suspecting that it was in
its turn followed by another. Matters went on thus without leading
to any encounter until the night when Domingo disappeared in the
virgin forest. This is how it happened. Marksman had well judged the
Gambusino, when suspecting him to be capable of treachery. That is why
he requested he should be left with him, that he might watch him with
greater care. Unfortunately, since the departure from the ford of the
Rubio, in spite of the incessant watchfulness kept up by Marksman, he
had never detected in the Gambusino the slightest doubtful movement
which would corroborate his suspicions, or convert them into certainty.
Domingo did his duty with apparent honesty and frankness. When they
reached the bivouac, the little arrangements for the night were made;
and the meal over, the Gambusino was one of the first to roll himself
in his zarapé, lie down, and go to sleep from alleged weariness. In
short, the bandit managed to behave so cleverly, and to mask his
baseness, that the hunter, clever as he was, was taken in. Gradually
his vigilance relaxed, his distrust went to sleep, and, though not
reckoning greatly on the Gambusino's fidelity, he ceased looking after
him incessantly, as he did during the first days. And then they had
covered a great deal of ground during the past month; the hunters were
in a completely unknown country: hence it was not presumable that the
Gambusino, almost new to desert life, would venture to desert the
people with whom he was, and risk wandering alone in the desert, where
he would have every chance of dying of hunger in a few days. This
merely proved one fact, that Marksman, in spite of all his cleverness,
did not know the man with whom he had to deal, and did not suspect the
tenacity of purpose which forms the backbone of the Mexican character.
Domingo hated the hunter because he had unmasked him, and with the
patience that characterizes the race to which he belonged, he awaited
the opportunity for vengeance, feeling certain, by the force of
events, that it must present itself from one day to the other. In the
meanwhile, he looked and listened. The hunters did not hesitate to
speak before him, for the reason that Marksman would, in that case,
have been obliged to tell his companions the suspicions he entertained
of the Gambusino, a thing that his innate loyalty prevented him doing.
Thus Domingo had profited by the opportunity to learn all the details
of the expedition of which he was an involuntary member--details he
intended to tell as clearly as possible to the person they interested
most, so soon as chance brought them together.
On the evening when Marksman discovered that trail which troubled him
so greatly, Domingo, while foraging about on his own account, found
something which he carefully avoided showing his comrades. It was no
other than a tobacco pouch of small dimensions, richly ornamented with
gold embroidery, such as rich Mexicans usually carry. Domingo very
well recollected having seen it in Don Estevan's hand. The pouch must,
then, have been lost by him. For the present he hid it in his bosom,
intending to examine it more at his leisure, when he did not fear any
surprise from his companions.
Flying Eagle followed the trail, as we have seen, and his friends,
after lighting the fire, preparing the meal, and eating a few
mouthfuls, waited his return.
The day had been fatiguing; the Indian's return was deferred; Marksman
and Don Mariano, after conversing for a long time, felt their eyelids
weighed down and gently close; in short, they yielded to their fatigue,
lay down, and were soon buried in a deep sleep. As for Domingo, he had
been sleeping for an hour, as if he never intended to wake again. A
singular thing happened, however. Don Mariano and Marksman had scarce
closed their eyes, ere the Gambusino opened his eyes, and that so
freshly, that everything led to the belief that he had not been to
sleep at all, and never felt more wakeful than at the present moment.
He looked suspiciously around, and remained for some time motionless;
but, after a few moments, reassured by the gentle and regular breathing
of his companions, he sat up gently. He hesitated for several moments,
but then took the tobacco pouch from the place where he had concealed
it, and examined it with the closest attention. This pouch had scarcely
anything to distinguish it from others; but one circumstance struck the
hunter: the pouch was nearly half full of tobacco, and that tobacco
was fresh. Hence it could not have been long lost by Don Estevan--a
few hours, at the most. If that were so, as there was every reason to
assume, Don Estevan could not be far off, and must be a league, or at
the most two, from their bivouac. This reasoning was logical; hence
the Gambusino drew from it the conclusion that the opportunity he had
been waiting for so long had at length arrived, and he must seize it
at all risks. This conclusion once admitted, the rest can be easily
understood. The Gambusino rose, glided like a snake into the underwood,
and went off in search of Don Estevan.
Accident is the master of the world; it regulates matters at its will;
its combinations are at times so strange, that it seems to take a
malignant pleasure in making the most odious plans succeed, contrary
to all expectations. This is what happened in the present case. The
Gambusino had not been wandering about the forest for more than hour,
groping his way as well as he could in the dark, which enwrapped him
like a shroud, when he arrived, at the moment he least expected it, in
sight of a fire lighted on the extreme verge of the forest. He walked
at once towards the brilliant flame he had noticed, instinctively
persuaded that near the _brasero_ which served him as a beacon he
should find the man he was looking for. His presentiments had not
deceived him. The camp, towards which he was proceeding, was really
that of Don Estevan and his allies, who, we must allow, did not believe
themselves so near their enemies. Had they done so, they would have
indubitably employed all the precautions usual in the desert to conceal
their presence.
The sudden appearance of the Gambusino in the circle illumined by the
fire was a perfect tableau. The Indians and Don Estevan himself were
so far from expecting the man's arrival, that there was a moment of
fearful confusion, during which the Gambusino was seized, thrown down,
and bound, ere he had time to utter a syllable in his defence. The
warriors seized their arms, and scattered about the neighbourhood, in
order to assure themselves that the man who had so suddenly come among
them was alone, and they had nothing to fear.
At length the alarm gradually cooled down; they felt easier, and
thought about questioning the prisoner. This was what the latter
desired, and which he earnestly requested, ever since he had been so
roughly pounced on. He was led into the presence of the three Chiefs,
and at once recognised by Don Estevan. "Eh!" the latter said, with a
grin. "It is my worthy friend, Domingo. What on earth brings you here,
my fine fellow?"
"You shall learn, for I have merely come to do you a service," the
bandit answered, with his usual effrontery. "I should be obliged,
though, by your having me untied if it is possible. These cords cut
into my flesh, and cause me such suffering, that I shall be unable to
utter a word until I have got rid of them."
When the bandit's request had been accomplished, he told all he had
heard in the fullest detail, without any pressing. The revelations of
the Gambusino caused his hearers considerable reflection, and they next
asked how he knew that they were so near? Domingo completed his story
by stating how he had found the tobacco pouch, and how, after his two
companions, Marksman and Don Mariano, fell asleep, he left them to go
in search of Don Estevan.
In the Gambusino's story one thing especially struck Don Estevan, and
that was, that two of his greatest enemies were a few paces from him,
and alone. He at once leaned over to Red Wolf, and whispered a few
words, to which the other responded by a sinister smile. Ten minutes
later, the fire was extinguished. The Apaches, armed to the teeth,
under the guidance of Domingo, glided into the forest, and proceeded
toward the spot where the hunter and the gentleman were tranquilly
reposing, not suspecting the terrible danger that menaced them, and the
treachery to which they were the victims.
We have seen how the Indian's enterprise failed, and in what way
the wretched Domingo received the chastisement for his crime.
Unfortunately, he had found time to speak, and his words had been
carefully garnered. When the Apaches recognized that they had to do
with a stronger party than they expected, and the men they wished to
surprise were on their guard, they withdrew in all haste, in order to
deliberate on the measures they must take to get before their enemies,
and foil their plans. The discussion, contrary to Indian habit, was
not long. In spite of the night, whose dense mantle still covered
the ground, they mounted their horses, and proceeded as speedily as
possible toward Quiepaa Tani, in order to enter the city first, and
have time to call on their friends to help them in the impending
contest.
In spite of all his objections, Don Estevan was left behind, concealed
with some warriors on the outskirts of the forest. The Chiefs, with
all their influence, not daring openly to infringe the Indian laws
by introducing into the city a Paleface other than a prisoner, Don
Estevan was compelled to await their return with resignation. But if
the Indians had lost no time, the hunters, on their side, had so well
profited by it, that, as we have seen, Marksman, disguised as a Yuma
medicine man, entered Quiepaa Tani simultaneously with them.
While Red Wolf made all the preparations for convening the great
council of the Chiefs, Addick left him, and proceeded to the house
of his friend, Cheuch Coatl (Eight Serpents), the Amantzin, or High
Priest. But the latter, on hearing of the young Chief's return, had
shut himself up with the Pigeon, who, accompanied by Eglantine,
had come to pay him a visit. The Amantzin advised her of Addick's
return--which she knew already--and recommended her to maintain silence
as to the active part she had played in the attempted conversion of the
maidens. The Pigeon, whom Eglantine had taught her lesson, promised to
remain dumb. She had told the High Priest of the presence in Quiepaa
Tani of a great Yuma medicine man, whose knowledge might be useful
in restoring the health of Addick's prisoners. The Amantzin thanked
the Indian woman, telling her he should probably see Atozac at the
council, and would not fail to ask him to lead Two Rabbits to him.
Feeling considerably calmer, the Amantzin dismissed the women, and
proceeded to Addick, being well prepared to receive him. At the first
words the young Chief uttered, referring to his great desire to see his
two prisoners as soon as possible, the old man replied that, in order
to be able to watch over them more effectually, and remove them from
the oppressive curiosity of the idlers of the city, who troubled him
with their continual visits, he had been compelled to transfer them
to the Palace of the Virgins of the Sun, until they could be returned
to their legitimate owner. Addick thanked his friend most warmly
for the care he had taken in performing the commission entrusted to
him--thanks which the Chief Priest received with hypocritical modesty,
while regarding the young Chief with a crafty look, which caused him to
feel uncomfortable. Hence, without further beating round the bush, he
resolved on settling the matter at once.