A MEETING.
The Indian Chief could not restrain a cry of terror, and recoiled a
few paces at the sudden apparition of the hunter. The latter stopped
in the centre of the room, and letting his head sink on his chest,
appeared plunged in profound thought. The High Priest, on rejoining
Atoyac, told him, in a few words, in what fashion the medicine man had
quitted the sick chamber, and the Indians, filled with superstitious
fear, stood motionless a few paces from him, respectfully waiting till
he addressed them. The hunter appeared gradually to regain possession
of his faculties; his agitation calmed down; he passed his hand over
his forehead, and sighed like a man at length relieved from a terrible
oppression. The Indians considered the moment favourable to approach
him, and ask him the questions they burned to address to him. "Well, my
father?" they said.
"Speak," the High Priest added. "What is the matter with you?"
The hunter rolled his eyes, uttered a fresh sigh, and muttered, in a
low, choking voice--"The spirit possesses me; it presses the marrow of
my bones."
The Indians exchanged a timid glance, and fell back in terror.
"Wacondah! Wacondah!" the Canadian continued; "why hast thou gifted thy
wretched servant with this unhappy knowledge?"
The Redskins really felt the blood curdle in their veins by these
sinister words; a shudder of terror ran over their limbs, and their
teeth chattered. Marksman walked slowly toward them; they saw him
approaching without daring to make a movement to avoid him. The hunter
laid his right hand on the High Priest's shoulder, fixed a piercing
glance on him, and said, in a hollow voice--"The sons of the sacred
Ayotl must arm themselves with courage."
"What does my brother mean?" the old man muttered, in a tremor.
"A wicked spirit," the hunter continued, coldly, "has entered these
daughters of the Palefaces. This spirit will smite with death, from
this day forth, those who approach them; for the dread knowledge with
which the Wacondah has gifted me has enabled me to convince myself of
the malign influence that weighs upon them."
The two Indians, credulous like all of their race, fell back a step.
Then the hunter, as if to confirm his words, feigned to be attacked by
a fresh crisis, and struggle with the spirit that dwelt in him.
"But what must be done to deliver them from his evil influence?" Atoyac
asked, timidly.
"All strength and all wisdom come from the Wacondah," the Canadian
answered. "I will ask my father, the Amantzin's leave to spend this
night in prayer in the Temple of the Sun."
The Indians exchanged a glance of admiration.
"Be it so, according to my father's wish," the High Priest said, with a
bow; "his wishes are orders to us."
"Above all," the hunter continued, "let no one approach the daughters
of the Palefaces till tomorrow; then, perhaps, the Wacondah will grant
my prayers, by indicating the medicines I must employ."
The High Priest gave a sign of assent.
"It shall be so," he said; "let my father follow me; I will conduct him
to the temple."
"No," Marksman objected; "that is not possible. I must enter the
sanctuary alone. My father will tell me the way to open the door."
The Amantzin obeyed, and explained to him in what way the bars and
bolts were arranged, and how he must set to work to undo them.
"Good," the hunter said; "tomorrow, at sunrise, I will let my father
know the will of the Wacondah, and if there be any hope left of saving
the patients."
"I will wait, my son," the old man replied.
The two Indians bowed respectfully to the medicine man, and retired
together. The hunter was surprised at seeing them go away thus, and
asked himself where they could be proceeding at such an hour. The
departure of the Indians was the only consequence of the confidential
information given to Atoyac by Marksman, and the High Priest and the
Chief were proceeding in all haste to the principal Sachem of the city,
to impart to him all they had learned of the supposed intentions of
Addick and Red Wolf.
We will here return to what we have already told the reader, in order
to make him thoroughly understand the motive of the confidence with
which the Indians accepted the hunter's words. In these countries
soothsayers are, as it were, favourites of fortune, and enjoy an
unbounded supernatural power. As among the Redskins, the practice
of medicine is, properly speaking, only an affectation of religious
rites mingled with ridiculous juggling. The physicians are naturally
considered to be Acyars, and respected as such. And let it not be
supposed that the vulgar alone are imbued with this belief. The chiefs,
warriors, priests even, as we have shown, recognize in them a marked
superiority, even if they do not grant them equally absolute power.
During the latest events we have described, night had set in, but
one of those American nights, so calm and soft, full of intoxicating
perfumes; a weak and delicate light poured from the stars, whose
innumerable army studded the profoundly azure sky with their flashing
light; the moon was standing high in the heavens, and poured down
on the sleeping city its silvery rays, which imparted to objects a
fantastic appearance; a religious silence brooded over the landscape.
The hunter looked after the two men so long as they remained in sight,
and then began crossing the square to reach the palace.
The day had been a trying one to the Canadian. He had been compelled
at every moment to display presence of mind, and struggle in craft
with men whose clear-sighted eyes had been incessantly on the point
of discovering the wolf hidden beneath the sheepskin. Still, he had
valiantly supported his trials, and, from the way affairs had turned,
he had every reason to believe that he should succeed in delivering the
two maidens; hence the worthy hunter's laughter to himself at the way
in which he had played his part, and determined to brave it out boldly
to the end. On reaching the temple, he unfastened the bolts and bars,
and entered the interior, only leaving the doors to behind, for he felt
certain that no one would dare to trouble him, through the sanctity of
the spot in the first place, and then through the superstitious fears
he had succeeded in inspiring the Indians with. In asking the High
Priest's permission to spend the night in the sanctuary, the hunter
had no other design but to cover with the cloak of religion the means
he intended to employ for the escape of the maidens, and, at the same
time, have a few hours' liberty, during which he could arrange his
plans fully, without being disturbed by the hospitality and curiosity
of his host.
The interior of the temple was gloomy. Only one lamp burned before the
sacrificing table, spreading a weak and trembling light, insufficient
to dispel the gloom. Marksman retired to a dark corner, sat down on
the ground, drew his pistols from his bosom, placed them by his side
for fear of a sudden attack, and, after trying with a piercing glance
to sound the dense gloom that surrounded him, feeling reassured by the
deadly silence, he began thinking deeply. Still, by degrees, either
through weariness or the influence of the spot where he was, in spite
of his violent efforts to keep awake, he felt his eyelids grow heavy,
and at length he gave way to the invisible sleep that overpowered
him. He could not say how long he had slept, when a slight noise he
heard, no great distance off, suddenly made him open his eyes. Like
all men accustomed to the active and perilous life of the desert,
where a man must be constantly on his guard, the hunter had acquired
such an exquisite delicacy of sense, that, however great his lassitude
might be, whenever he knew himself to be in a dangerous position, his
sleep was lighter than a child's. Marksman, when hardly awake, looked
around, while careful not to make the slightest movement indicating
that his slumbers were interrupted. He could see nothing; it was still
night, and what was more, the lamp was extinguished. He understood that
someone had entered the temple, and was spying him. But who could have
dared to cross the sacred threshold? Two sorts of persons alone would
venture to do it. A friend or an enemy. As for friends, he had only
one in the city, Flying Eagle. It was evident that the warrior, if he
wished to come to him, would have come openly, and not hiding himself,
which might draw a bullet at his head. Hence it was an enemy; but who?
Those he might have suspected, namely, Addick or Red Wolf, did not know
him, and hence could not have discovered him under his disguise, as he
had deceived sharper eyes than theirs. Besides, during the whole course
of the day, he had not been face to face with the two Chiefs, hence
it could not be they. But who was it, then? This was what the hunter
could not discover, in spite of all his cleverness. In his doubt, and
through fear of being taken unawares, he stretched out his hands till
they touched the pistols, and, with his head up, his eyes open, and
ears on the watch for the slightest sound, he prepared to bravely face
the foe, whoever he might be. The noise, however, which had disturbed
him was not repeated, all remained calm and silent. In vain did the
hunter strive to detect a shadow, even the slightest, or the least
sound. Nothing disturbed the majesty of the sanctuary. Still, Marksman
was not mistaken. He had distinctly heard a footstep timidly pacing the
stones of the temple. A man must have been once in his life in the same
position as the hunter was now in, to understand its agony and terror.
To feel close to you, scarce two yards off, an enemy watching you,
whose furious eye is unpleasantly fixed on you--to know he is there;
to guess it by that species of intuition God has bestowed on him to
foresee a danger, and not dare to stir, fear making the least movement
which might warn him that you were expecting the attack--this position,
comparable with that of the bird fascinated by the snake, is most
cruel, and, in a few minutes, becomes a punishment so intolerable that
death itself is preferable.
Assuredly, Marksman was a man of tried courage. The enterprise he was
now attempting proved in him a rashness, we will not say pushed to
the verge of death, for that is nothing, but to a contempt of those
tortures the Redskins are so ingenious in inventing and varying, so
that they can extract the life from their victim, as it were, drop by
drop. Well, after a quarter of an hour of this expectation, he felt
an involuntary shudder, his hair stood erect, and a cold perspiration
beaded on his temples. "A million demons," he muttered to himself,
"I cannot stand this any longer. I must know what I have to expect,
whatever happens."
At the same moment he leaped to his feet as if moved by a spring, a
pistol in either hand. All at once, a shadow bounded from behind a
pillar with a tiger's leap, and the hunter, seized by the throat,
rolled on the ground, before he could utter a cry. A foot was rested
on his chest, and he saw a hideous face grinning at him, as if through
a cloud. Marksman was alone, abandoned; without help; it was all over
with him, nothing could save him. He gave vent to a stifled sigh, and
closed his eyes, resigned to the fate that awaited him. But, at the
moment he felt he was about to receive the mortal blow, the grasp
on his throat relaxed, and a sarcastic voice said to him, "Get up,
powerful Tlacateotzin, I only wished to prove to you that you were in
my hands."
The hunter rose all bruised, and still troubled by this sudden attack.
The other continued--"What would you give to escape the peril that
menaces you, and be free to return peacefully to the _calli_ of your
host Atoyac?"
But Marksman had had time to recover from his flurry; he had picked up
his pistols; all fear had fled his heart, for he had only to defend
himself against one enemy. This enemy, after for a moment holding
him prostrate, committed the fault of restoring him liberty to move;
their position had suddenly become equal. "I will give you nothing,
Red Wolf," he said, resolutely. "Why did you not kill me when I lay
defenceless at your feet?"
The Indian Chief--for he it was--recoiled, with surprise, on finding
himself so easily recognized. "Why did I not kill you, dog?" he
answered. "Because I had pity on you."
"Because you were afraid, Sachem," the hunter said firmly; "it is a
different thing to kill an enemy in fighting, from assassinating an
adept of the great medicine in the temple of Wacondah, when protected
by his omnipotent hand. I say again, you were afraid."
The hunter guessed rightly; it was his superstitious fear which
suddenly arrested the arm of the Chief, already uplifted to strike. "I
will not discuss matters with you," he said; "but tell me how you so
speedily guessed my name; for I do not know you."
"But I know you; the Wacondah announced your presence to me; I expected
you; if I did not prevent your attack, it was because I wished to
see if you would carry your impiety so far as to sully the reverend
sanctuary of the temple."
The Indian grinned. "You are going too far, sorcerer," he said,
ironically. "Had it not been for a moment of weakness I now regret, you
would be dead."
"Perhaps so. What do you want of me?"
"Do you not know, as you say nothing is hidden from you?"
"I know what reason brings you here. You will try in vain to
dissimulate; if I ask you that question, it is because I would know if
you dare to tell a falsehood."
Red Wolf reflected for a moment, and then continued, with a resolute
accent,--"Listen, sorcerer," he said; "either you are a rogue, as
I believe, or else you are really what you pretend to be--a great
medicine man, inspired by the Wacondah, and beloved by him; in either
case, I wish to clear up my doubts. Woe to you if you try to deceive
me, for I will kill you like a dog, and of your accursed hide, cut into
strips on your quivering body, I will make trappings for my horse; if,
on the contrary, you speak the truth, you will not have a more devoted
friend, or a more faithful servant than myself."
"I despise your hatred, and do not want your friendship, Red Wolf," the
hunter answered, in an imposing tone; "your powerless menaces do not
terrify me; but, in order to make you fully understand the extent of
my knowledge, I consent to do what you ask, and tell you what reason
urged you to come to me."
"Do so, sorcerer, and whatever may happen, Red Wolf will be yours."
The hunter smiled contemptuously, and shrugged his shoulders, "It is
difficult, then, to divine what a man of blood wants? You and Addick,
your worthy accomplice, are leagued with a miserable dog, an outcast of
the Palefaces, to carry off from here two poor young girls confided to
the honour of your accomplice. Today you would like to cheat those with
whom you are allied, and keep the prisoners for yourself. Denounced to
the great Sachem by Atoyac, to whom all your designs are known, who is
also aware that you meditate seizing the supreme power, and becoming
Governor of Quiepaa Tani, you felt that you were lost; then you came to
me with the intention of corrupting me, and inducing me, by the power
I have at my disposal, to help you in carrying off the maidens whom
you covet, so that you may fly with them before the necessary steps
have been taken to arrest you. Is that all? Have I forgot any trifling
detail? Or have I really read your whole thoughts? Answer, Chief, and
contradict me if you dare!"
The Sachem listened to the hunter's long tirade with increasing
trouble; the successive changes of his face while listening to the
sorcerer, would have been a curious study for an observer; and when
Marksman at length concluded, Red Wolf let his head sink in confusion,
and stammered, in an almost indistinct voice,--"My father is truly
a Tlacateotzin; the Wacondah inspires him; his knowledge is immense.
Who is the man who would dare to hide anything from him? His eye, more
piercing than the eagle's, reads all hearts."
"Now you have my answer, Red Wolf," the hunter continued, "retire in
peace, and no longer disturb the meditations in which I am plunged."
"Then," the Chief remarked, with hesitation, "my father will not do
anything for me?"
"Yes, I do much."
"What does my father?"
"I allow you to retire in peace, when, by one sign, it would be easy
for me to lay you dead at my feet."
The Indian drew two or three steps nearer the sorcerer, so as almost to
touch him; the latter, whose watchful ear had just heard the sound of
gentle footsteps coming toward him, did not notice this movement, for
all attention was directed to another quarter. Suddenly his frowning
brow grew smooth, and a smile played on his lips; he had discovered the
cause of this new mystery. "Well," he said to the Chief, "why does Red
Wolf remain here, when I gave him the order to withdraw?"
"Because I hope to induce my father to have better feelings toward me."
"My feelings toward the hunter are as they should be; I cannot change
them."
"Yes, my father is kind; he will help Red Wolf."
"No, I tell you."
"My father will not serve me."
"I will not."
"Is that my father's last word?"
"Yes."
"Then die like the dog you are!" the Redskin howled furiously, as he
rushed with uplifted knife on the hunter.
The latter had, for a few moments, attentively watched all the Chief's
movements. Being thoroughly acquainted with the treacherous and roguish
character of the Apaches, on seeing Red Wolf assume a gentle manner,
he perfectly foresaw what he meditated, and the termination he meant
to give the scene; but, for all that, he did not make the slightest
movement to escape the blow intended for him: he looked his assassin
full in the face, with folded arms and unruffled face. Still, the arm
raised against the hunter did not descend. A man suddenly emerged from
the shade that concealed him, appeared behind Red Wolf, seized his arm,
and twisted it with such force, that the knife dropped, and disappeared
again so rapidly, that the terrified Chief had not even the time to see
whether he had to deal with a man or a spirit.
Red Wolf uttered no cry,--did not even attempt to avenge himself,
but his eyes rolled in their sockets, a convulsive tremor shook his
whole body, and he fell on his knees, murmuring, in a horrified
voice,--"Pardon, pardon, my father."
The hunter fell back a step, as if to avoid the unclean contact of the
wretch prostrate before him, kicked the knife away with disgust, and
said, in a tone of supreme contempt,--"Pick up your weapon, assassin!"
In reply the Chief showed him his dislocated arm, which hung inert by
his side.
"You wished it," the hunter continued. "Did I not warn you that the
Wacondah protected me? Go, retire to your _calli_; keep silence about
all that has happened here. At sunset be with your canoe at the
riverbank below the bridge; I will meet you there, and perhaps cure
you, if you strictly follow the order I give you; above all, forget not
that you must be alone. Go!"
"I will obey my father; my lips will not utter a word without his
order. But how can I leave here, unless you aid me? The spirits that
watch over my father will come to me with death, when I am no longer
in his presence."
"That is true: you have been sufficiently punished. Rise, and lean on
my shoulder; I will help you to walk to the entrance of the temple."
Red Wolf rose without reply; his rebellious spirit was subdued. The
rude lesson he had received at length inspired him with a superstitious
dread of the medicine man, which nothing could overcome.
The hunter gently led him to the outer gate. On arriving there, he
carefully examined his arm, assured himself that nothing was broken,
and dismissed him, saying in a tone in which kindness was mingled with
severity,--"Thank the Wacondah, who had pity on you. In a few days your
wound will be cured; but profit by this lesson, wretch. You will see
me again this evening. Go; now my help is no longer requisite, you can
reach your _calli_ alone."
"I will try," the Chief answered, humbly.
At a bow and sign from the hunter, he began walking slowly. Marksman
looked after him for some time, and then returned to the temple,
being careful to bolt the gate after him this time. At the moment the
hunter disappeared in the temple, the cry of the owl rose in the air,
announcing that the sun would speedily make its appearance.