THE GREAT MEDICINE.
As we have stated, Marksman, after leading Red Wolf to the door of the
temple, and seeing him retire, reentered the sanctuary, closing the
door after him. The Comanche Chief was awaiting him, with shoulder
leaning against the wall, and folded arms. "Thanks for your help,
Chief," he said; "without you I was lost."
"For a long time," the Indian replied, "Flying Eagle was hearing,
though invisible, his brother's conversation with Red Wolf."
"Well, we have got rid of him for a long time; I hope, now, nothing
will occur to mar our plans or prevent their success."
The warrior shook his head in contradiction.
"Do you doubt it, Chief?" the hunter asked.
"I doubt it more than ever."
"Why so, when everything is going on as well as we can desire, when all
obstacles are levelled before us?"
"Och! obstacles are levelled, but others greater and more difficult to
overcome arise immediately."
"I do not understand you, Chief. Have you any ill news to tell me? If
so, speak quickly, for time is precious."
"My brother shall judge," the Chief said, simply. Then tuning half
away, he clapped his hand thrice. As if this inoffensive signal had
the power to call up phantoms, two men instantaneously emerged from
the shadow, and appeared before the hunter's astonished eyes. Marksman
looked at them for a moment, and then clasped his hand with surprise,
muttering, "Brighteye and Don Miguel here! Mercy! what will become of
us?"
"Is that the way you receive us, my friend?" Don Miguel asked,
affectionately.
"In Heaven's name what have you come here for? What evil inspiration
urged you to join me when all was going on so well, and success, I may
say, was insured?"
"We have not come to cross your plans; on the contrary, alarmed by the
thought of your being among these demons, we wished to see you and help
you, were that possible."
"I thank you for your good intentions. Unfortunately, they are more
injurious than useful, under present circumstances. But how did you
manage to enter the city?"
"Oh, very easily," Brighteye answered, and he told in a few words how
they had found them. The hunter shook his head.
"It was a bold action," he said, "and I must allow that it was well
carried out. But how does it profit you to have incurred such perils?
Greater ones await you here--profitless, and of no advantage to us."
"Perhaps so; but whatever happens," Don Miguel--answered firmly, "you
understand that I have not blindly exposed myself to all these dangers
without a very powerful motive."
"I suppose so; but I try in vain to discover the motive."
"You need not search long, I will tell you."
"Speak!"
"I must--you understand, I hope, old fellow," he said, laying a stress
on each, syllable--"I must see Doña Laura."
"See Doña Laura! it is impossible," Marksman exclaimed.
"I know nothing about impossibility; but this I know, that I will see
her."
"You are mad, on my soul, Don Miguel; it is impossible, I tell you."
The adventurer shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. "I repeat that I
will see her," he said, with resolution; "even if, to reach her, I were
compelled to wade in blood up to my waist; I insist on it, and it shall
be so."
"But what will you do?"
"I do not know, and care little. If you refuse to help me, well,
Brighteye and I will find means, will we not, old comrade?"
"It is certain, Don Miguel," the latter answered, in the placid tone
habitual to him, "that I shall not leave you in the lurch. As to
finding a plan of reaching the captives, we shall find it, but I will
not answer that it is a good one though."
There was a lengthened silence. Marksman was startled at Don Miguel's
resolution, which he knew to be unbinding; he calculated mentally the
chances, good and bad, which the young man's untoward arrival offered
for the success of his schemes. At last he took the word. "I will
not try," he said to Don Miguel, "any longer to dissuade you from
attempting to see the maidens; I have known you long enough to feel
that it would be useless, and that my arguments would, probably, only
urge you to commit an act of irremediable insanity. I therefore take
upon myself to lead you to Doña Laura."
"You promise it?" the young man exclaimed quickly.
"Yes; but on one condition."
"Speak! whatever it be I accept it."
"Good; when the moment arrives, I will let you know it; but take my
advice, and ask Flying Eagle to perfect your disguise; in the way you
and Brighteye are dressed at this moment, you could not take a step in
the city without being recognized. Now I leave you, for day has broken,
and I must go to the High Priest; I leave you in charge of Flying
Eagle; follow his instructions carefully, for you stake the life, not
only of yourself, but of those you desire to save."
The young man shivered at the thought. "I will obey you," he said, "but
you will keep your promise?"
"I will keep it this very day."
After whispering a few words to Flying Eagle, Marksman left the three
men in the temple and went out.
The Amantzin was preparing to go to the temple at the moment the hunter
entered his palace. Atoyac, curious like the true Indian he was, had
not left the High Priest since the previous evening, in order to be
present at the medicine man's second visit, which, judging from the
first, he assumed would be very interesting. The hunter returned,
accompanied by the Amantzin, who was his shadow, to the maidens'
apartment. He then attained the certainty that Doña Laura could without
inconvenience support the fatigue of being carried out of the Palace
of the Virgins of the Sun. The girl had, with the hope of a speedy
deliverance, regained her strength, and the disease which undermined
her had disappeared, as if by enchantment. As for Luisa, more dubious,
when the High Priest retired (for the hunter demanded to be left alone
with his patients), she said to the Canadian--"We shall be ready to
follow you when you order, Marksman, but on one condition."
"How a condition?" the hunter exclaimed. Then he added, mentally, "What
is the meaning of this? Am I to meet obstacles on all sides? Speak,
Niña," he continued, "I am listening to you."
"Pardon any apparent harshness in my words, we do not doubt your
loyalty. Heaven guard us from it still."
"You do distrust me," the hunter interrupted, in a tone of chagrin.
"However, I ought to expect it, for you both know me too little to put
faith in me."
"Alas!" Doña Laura said. "Such is the misfortune of our position, that,
in spite of ourselves, we tremble to meet traitors on all sides."
"That miserable Addick, to whom Don Miguel trusted," Doña Luisa added,
"how has he behaved to us!"
"That is true; you are obliged to speak so! What can I do to prove to
you certainly that you can place full and entire confidence in me?" The
maidens blushed, and looked at each other with hesitation. "Come," the
hunter said, simply, "I will remove all your doubts. This evening I
will see you again, and a man will accompany me who, I believe, will be
able to convince you."
"Whom do you mean?" Doña Laura asked quickly. "Don Miguel?"
"He will come?" the maidens exclaimed, simultaneously.
"This evening, I promise you."
The girls threw themselves into each other's arms to hide their blushes
and confusion. The hunter, after admiring the graceful group for
a moment, went out, saying in a soft and sympathetic voice,--"This
evening."
The Amantzin and Atoyac were impatiently awaiting the result of the
visit in the vestibule of the palace. When the hunter joined them,
and the High Priest began questioning him as to the condition of the
patients, he seemed to reflect for a moment, then answered in a grave
voice--"My father is a wise man; nothing equals his knowledge; his
heart can repose, for his captives will soon be delivered from the evil
spirit that possesses them."
"My father speaks the truth?" the Amantzin asked, trying to read in the
medicine man's face the degree of credit he should give him.
But the latter was impenetrable. "Listen," he answered, "to what
the Great Spirit revealed to me during the night; at this moment a
Tlacateotzin from a remote hut has arrived at the city; I do not know
him, I never heard his name before this day; it is this divine man who
must aid us in saving the sick maidens. He alone knows what remedies
must be administered to them."
"Still," the High Priest said, with an accent of ill-boded suspicion,
"my father has given us proofs of his immense learning, why does he not
finish alone what he has so well begun?"
"I am a simple man, whose strength resides in the protection the
Wacondah grants me. He has revealed to me the means to restore health
to the sufferers; I must obey."
The High Priest bowed submissively, and requested the hunter to confide
to him what he proposed doing.
"The unknown Tlacateotzin will tell that to my father when he has seen
the captives," Marksman answered, "but he will not have long to wait, I
feel the approach of the divine man. Let my father admit him without
delay."
Exactly at this moment several blows were struck on the outer door. The
High Priest, subdued by the hunter's assurance, hastened to open it.
Don Miguel appeared; thanks to Flying Eagle, he was unrecognizable. It
is almost unnecessary to state that this scene had been arranged by the
hunter and the Comanche Chief during the short conversation they had
before separating. Don Miguel took a scrutinizing look around. "Where
are the sick persons I am ordered by the Wacondah to deliver from the
evil spirit?" he said, in a stern voice.
The High Priest and the hunter exchanged a glance of intelligence.
The two Indians were confounded. The arrival of this man, so clearly
predicted by Marksman, appeared to them a prodigy. We will not describe
the conversation that took place between Don Miguel and the maidens
when they at length met; we will restrict ourselves to saying that,
after an hour's visit, which elapsed to the young folks with the
rapidity of a moment, Marksman succeeded, with great difficulty, in
separating them, and returned with the adventurer to the High Priest,
whose suspicions he feared to arouse.
"Courage!" the hunter whispered during the walk, "all is going on well;
leave me to manage the rest."
"Well?" the High Priest asked, so soon as they appeared.
Marksman drew himself up majestically, and assuming a stern and
imposing accent, said, "Listen to the words which the great Wacondah
breathes in my chest and sends up to my lips; this is what the divine
man here present says: the two suns that follow this are of evil
augury; but on the evening of the third, when the moon spreads its
beneficent light, my son, the Sachem Atoyac, will take the skin of a
vicuna, which my father, the venerated Amantzin, of Quiepaa Tani, will
kill in the arena, which he will bless in the name of Teotl;[1] he will
spread this skin on the top of a hillock, which is a little way out of
the city, in order that the evil spirit, on issuing from the maidens,
may not enter any of the inhabitants, and then lead the captives to the
spot where the skin is stretched out."
"One of them, though," the High Priest remarked, "is incapable of
leaving the hammock on which her body reposes."
"The wisdom of my son dwells in each of his words; but he may reassure
himself the Wacondah will give the necessary strength to those he
wishes to save."
The Amantzin was restrained to bow before this unanswerable argument.
"When what I have explained to my father is done," the Canadian
continued, imperturbably, "he will choose four of the bravest warriors
of his nation, to help him in guarding his captives during the night.
And after I have given the Amantzin and the men who accompany him a
liquor to drink, which will protect them from all evil influences, my
brother, the divine Tlacateotzin, will expel the wicked spirit that
torments the Pale women."
The High Priest and the Sachem listened silently, and seemed to be
reflecting. The Canadian perceived it, and hastened to add, "Although
the Wacondah assists us, and gives us the necessary power to conquer,
still it is necessary that my brother, the Amantzin, and the four
warriors he selects, should pass the night preceding the great medicine
with us in the sanctuary. Atoyac will give, as an offering to the
Wacondah, twenty full cavales to the wise Amantzin. Will my brother do
so?"
"Hum!" the Indian said, but little flattered by the preference, "if I
do so, what shall I gain by it?"
Marksman looked at him fixedly. "The accomplishment before the second
moon," he answered, "of the project which Atoyac has ripened so long in
his mind."
The hunter spoke haphazard; still, it seemed that the blow had told,
for the Sachem answered, with considerable agitation, "I will do it."
"My father is a wise man," the High Priest said, his brow having
brightened when the hunter spoke of the offering of the twenty cavales;
"may the Wacondah protect him."
"My son is kind," the Canadian contented himself with answering, and
took leave of the two men.
On the square, Flying Eagle and Brighteye were awaiting the coming out
of the two adventurers. While proceeding towards their host's _calli_,
Marksman explained his plan in its fullest details to his comrades.
Nothing could be more simple, though, than his scheme, for it consisted
in carrying off the maidens so soon as they were placed on the mound.
This was the only possible chance of success, for they could not dream
of employing force to get them out of the Palace of the Virgins of the
Sun. The delay of three days, fixed by Marksman before attempting his
plan, was necessary, in order to send Flying Eagle off to his tribe, to
fetch the reinforcements they would doubtless greatly need during the
pursuit that must ensue on the rape. Brighteye, at the same time, would
leave the city to warn the Gambusinos of the day selected, so as to
avoid any misunderstanding, and place the hunters in good positions.
The same evening, Flying Eagle, Eglantine, and Brighteye, as had been
arranged, got into Red Wolf's canoe, who was waiting near the hedge.
After the orders he received from Marksman, Eglantine was to remain
in the Gambusino's camp, while Flying Eagle, mounted on the famous
barb he had fortunately inherited from Don Estevan, would proceed
with all speed to his tribe. When Don Miguel and Marksman had seen
their comrades safely off, they returned to Atoyac's cabin. The worthy
Sachem, though he felt very angry at the tax of twenty cavales they
had put on him, received them most cordially, not daring to infringe
the laws of hospitality when dealing with men so powerful as the two
physicians. While conversing, he told them that Addick and Red Wolf had
disappeared from the city, no one knowing what had become of them. As
for Red Wolf, the hunters knew all about it, so his departure did not
trouble them; but it was not the same with Addick, who, as their host
told them, set out at the head of a powerful war party. They suspected
that the young Chief had gone to join Don Estevan, which urged them to
double their prudence, for they expected some perfidious machination
from these two men.
The three days passed away in visits to the maidens and prayers in the
Temple of the Sun. Still, the time seemed very long to Don Miguel and
the ladies, who constantly trembled lest a fortuitous accident should
disturb the well-arranged plan for their deliverance. The last day,
Marksman and Don Miguel were conversing, as they had grown accustomed
to do, with Doña Laura and Doña Luisa, while recommending a passive
obedience to all their injunctions, when they fancied they heard a
rustling at the door of the apartment preceding that in which the
prisoners were confined. Marksman, at once reassuming his borrowed
face, opened the door, and found himself face to face with the High
Priest, who stepped away with the embarrassed air of a man detected in
the satisfaction of his curiosity. Had he heard what the young people
and the hunter had been saying in Spanish? Marksman, after reflection,
did not think so: still, he thought it prudent to recommend his
comrades to be on their guard.
This long day at length terminated, the sun set, and night arrived.
All was ready for departure; the captives, each placed in a hammock,
suspended from the shoulders of four vigorous slaves, were transported
to the top of the mound chosen for the operation, and gently deposited
in the vicuna skin. The High Priest, by Marksman's orders, stationed
his warriors at the four cardinal points. He then uttered a few
mysterious words, to which Don Miguel replied in a low voice, burnt
some odoriferous grass, and bade the Indians and the High Priest kneel
down to implore the unknown deity.
Don Miguel, during this period, gazed on the city, trying to
distinguish if anything extraordinary were occurring. All was calm. The
deepest silence reigned over the place. The two hunters, who had also
knelt, rose up.
"Let my brothers redouble their prayers," Don Miguel said, in a hollow
voice, "I am about to compel the evil spirit to retire from the
captives."
In spite of themselves, the maidens gave a start of terror at these
words. Don Miguel did not seem to notice it, but made a sign to
Marksman. "Let my brothers approach," the latter said. The sentinels
had a hesitation that threatened to degenerate into terror on the
slightest suspicious movement of the medicine men. Don Miguel then
proceeded:--"My brother and I," he said, "are about to return to
prayer; but to prevent the evil spirits seizing on you after leaving
the captives, my brother Two Rabbits will pour out for each a horn
of firewater, prepared and gifted by the Wacondah with the virtue of
saving those who drink it from the attacks of the evil spirit."
The sentries were Apaches. At the word "firewater," their eyes sparkled
with covetousness. Marksman then poured them out a large calabash of
spirits, mixed with a strong dose of opium, which they swallowed at
a draught, with unequivocal signs of pleasure. The High Priest alone
seemed to hesitate, but at length made up his mind, and boldly emptied
the cup, to the great relief of the hunters, whom his hesitation was
beginning to alarm.
"Now!" the Canadian shouted, in a rough voice, "on your knees, all of
you."
The Apaches obeyed, Don Miguel imitating them. Marksman alone
remained standing, while Don Miguel, with his arms stretched to
the north, seemed ordering the evil spirit to retire; the Canadian
began turning rapidly, while muttering incoherent words, which the
adventurer repeated after him. After this, Don Miguel rose, and made an
invocation. Twenty minutes had passed. During this period, an Indian
fell, with his face to the ground, as if humbly prostrating himself.
Soon a second did the same, then a third, then a fourth, and, lastly,
the High Priest fell in his turn. The five Indians gave no signs of
life. Marksman, to make sure, let the nearest man taste the point of
his knife. The poor wretch did not stir; the opium had produced in
him and his comrades such an effect that their necks might have been
twisted before they woke.
Don Miguel then turned to the ladies, who were awaiting with
ever-increasing perplexity the end of this scene. "Fly," he said, "if
you wish to save your lives."
He then seized Doña Laura in his arms, threw her over his shoulders,
took a pistol in his left hand, and dashed down the hill. Marksman,
calmer than the young man, began by imitating thrice the signal agreed
on with his companions. At the expiration of a moment, which seemed
to him an age, the same cry answered him. "Heaven be praised!" he
exclaimed, "we are saved."
He went towards Doña Luisa, and wished to take her in his arms.
"No," she said, with a smile, "I thank you, but I am strong, and can
walk."
"Come on, then, for heaven's sake."
The girl rose. "Go on," she said, "I will follow you; think of your own
safety, I can defend myself." And she showed the hunter the pistols he
gave her two months previously.
"Brave girl!" the hunter said; "but for all that, do not leave me."
He made her go down in front of him, and both soon reached the foot of
the mound. When about half-way to the forest, the hunters were obliged
to stop, for the ladies, exhausted by fatigue and emotion, felt they
could not go further. Suddenly a large party of horsemen, with Don
Mariano, Brighteye, and Ruperto at their head, dashed at a gallop from
the forest, and hurried towards them.
"Ah!" Don Miguel said, with maddening joy, "I have really saved her,
then!"
The maidens mounted the horses prepared for them beforehand, and were
placed in the middle of the detachment.
"My child! my darling daughter!" Don Mariano repeated, as he covered
her with kisses.
The adventurer respected for a few minutes the gentle affection of the
father and daughter, who had so long been separated, and never hoped
to meet again. Two briny tears he could not check ran down his bronzed
cheeks, and in the presence of happiness so perfect, he forgot for a
minute that henceforth an insurmountable barrier was raised between
himself and her he loved so much; but soon regaining his spirits, and
comprehending the necessity of haste, he ordered--
"Forward, forward! we must not be surprised."
All at once a sinister flash crossed the horizon; a sharp whizz was
heard, and a bullet crushed in the skull of a Gambusino, scarce a yard
from Don Miguel. Then a horrible yell, the war cry of the Apaches,
burst forth.
"Back, back!" Marksman exclaimed, "the Redskins are on us."
The Gambusinos, burying their spurs in their horses' flanks, started at
headlong speed.
[1] The great unknown God.