CURUMILLA.
About a month after the events we have just described, in the early part
of December, which the Comanches call, in their picturesque language,
"the Moon of the roebuck that sheds its horns," and a few minutes after
sunrise, a party, consisting of five or six men, whom, by their garb, it
was easy to recognise as wood rangers from the Far West, climbed one of
the highest peaks of the Sierra de los Comanches, the eastern chain of
the Rocky Mountains, running down into Texas, where it terminates in the
Guadaloupe mountains.
The weather was cold, and a dense layer of snow covered the sides of the
mountains. The slope which these bold adventurers were following, was so
scarped that, although accustomed to travel in these regions, they were
often compelled to bend their backs and creep along on their hands and
knees. But no difficulty baffled them, no obstacle was great enough to
make them turn back.
At times, worn out with fatigue, and bathed in perspiration, they
stopped to take breath, lay down on the snow, and picked up some
handfuls to allay the ardent thirst that devoured them; then, after
resting a little while, they courageously set out again, and clambered
up the eternal ice, whose gigantic masses became with each moment more
abrupt.
Were these men in search of a practicable road in this frightful
labyrinth of mountains, whose peaks rose around them, at an immense
height, in the icy regions of the sky? Perhaps, however, they wished,
for reasons known to themselves alone, to gain a spot whence they could
have an extensive prospect.
If such were their hope, it was not deceived. When, after incessant toil
they all at last reached the summit of the peak they were scaling, they
suddenly had before them a landscape, whose grand appearance amazed and
startled them through its sublime immensity. In whatever direction they
looked, they were confounded by the majesty of the panorama unfolded at
their feet.
In truth, the Rocky Mountains are unique in the world, bearing no
resemblance with the Pyrenees, Alps, and Apennines, and those
magnificent chains of mountains which here and there stride across the
old world, and seem with their barren crest to protest against the pride
of creatures, in the name of the Creator.
The hunters were hanging, as it were, over a world. Beneath them was the
Sierra de los Comanches, an immense mountain broken up into snowy peaks,
displaying all their gloomy caverns, deep and awe-inspiring valleys,
their brilliant lakes, their dark defiles and their foaming torrents,
which bounded noisily downward; then, far beyond these savage limits,
the eye was lost in an unbounded landscape, bathed in a hazy distance,
like the surface of the sea in calm weather.
Owing to the purity and transparency of the atmosphere, the adventurers
distinguished the smallest objects at a surprising distance. However, in
all probability, these men had not undertaken so perilous an ascent
through motives of curiosity. The mode in which they examined the
country and analysed the immense panorama unrolled before them, proved,
on the contrary, that very serious reasons had urged them to brave the
almost insurmountable difficulties they had overcome, in order to reach
the point where they were.
The group formed by these men with their bronzed faces, energetic
features and picturesque garb, as they leant on their rifles, with eyes
fixed on space and frowning brow, had something grand about it; at this
extraordinary elevation, at the summit of the peak covered with eternal
snow, which served them as a pedestal in the midst of the chaos that
surrounded them.
For a long time they remained there without speaking, trying to
distinguish in the windings of the _quebradas_ the slightest break of
the ground, deaf to the mournful growling of the torrents that leaped at
their feet, and the sinister rolling of the avalanches, which glided
down the mountain side, and fell with a crash into the valleys, dragging
trees and rocks with them.
At length the man who appeared the leader of the party passed his hand
over his brow, damp with exertion, though the cold was intense in these
regions, and turned to his companions to say, "My friends, we are now
twenty thousand feet above the level of the plain, that is to say, we
have reached the spot where the Indian warrior sees for the first time
after death the country of souls, and contemplates the happy hunting
grounds, the brilliant abode of just, free, and generous warriors. The
eagle alone could rise higher than ourselves."
"Yes," one of his comrades replied, with a shake of head; "but, though I
keep looking around, I see no possibility of getting out."
"Hilloh, General!" the first speaker interposed, "What is that you are
saying? We might fancy, which Heaven forbid, that you were despairing."
"Well," the other, who was General Ibañez, replied, "that supposition
would not be without a certain degree of correctness; listen to me, Don
Valentine; for ten days we have been lost on these confounded mountains,
surrounded by ice, and snow, and with nothing to eat, under the pretext
of finding the hiding place of that old villain Red Cedar, and I do not
mind confessing to you, that I am beginning, not to despair, but to
believe that, unless a miracle happen, it will be impossible for us to
get out of this inextricable chaos in which we are enclosed."
Valentine shook his head several times. The five men standing on the
peak were really the Trail-hunter and his friends.
"No matter," General Ibañez continued, "you will agree with me that our
position, far from improving, is growing with each moment more
difficult; for two days we have been completely out of provisions, and I
do not see how we shall procure any in these icy regions. Red Cedar has
tricked us with that diabolical cunning which never fails him, he has
led us into a trap we cannot get out of, and where we shall find death."
There was a mournful silence. The despair of these energetic men, coldly
calculating, amid the steep, northerly country that surrounded them, the
few hours of existence still left them, had something crushing about it.
Scarce able to stand, more like corpses than men, with haggard features
and eyes reddened with fever, they stood calm and resigned, gazing on
the magnificent plains stretching out at their feet, on which thousands
of animals sported and covered everywhere with trees, whose fruit would
so quickly have checked their hunger.
But between them and these plains stood an insurmountable barrier, which
neither strength nor cunning could carry: all that was humanly possible,
these men had done during the last two days to save themselves. All
their plans had been foiled by a strange fatality, which made them
constantly go round in a circle among these mountains, which are so like
each other, and all their attempts had broken down.
"Pardon me, my friends," Don Miguel de Zarate said, with a crushing
accent of sorrow, "pardon me, for I alone am the cause of your death."
"Speak not so, Don Miguel," Valentine quickly exclaimed, "all is not
lost, yet."
A heart-rending smile played round the hacendero's lips.
"You are ever the same, Don Valentine," he said; "good, and generous,
forgetting yourself for your friends. Alas! Had we followed your advice,
we should not be dying of famine and misery in these desolate
mountains."
"That will do," the hunter said, gruffly; "what is done cannot be
undone; perhaps it would have been better had you listened to me some
days back, I grant; but of what use is recrimination now? Let us rather
seek the means to get out of this."
"It is impossible," Don Miguel continued, disconsolately, and letting
his head fall in his hands, he gave way to sad reflections.
"Caray!" the hunter exclaimed, energetically, "Impossible is a word we
Frenchmen have erased from our dictionary. Hang it! As long as the heart
beats, there is hope. Were Red Cedar more cunning than he is, which
would be most difficult, I swear you that we shall find him, and get out
of this hobble."
"But how?" Don Pablo eagerly asked.
"I do not know; still I am certain we shall escape."
"Ah, if we were only by the side of those two horsemen," the general
said, with a sigh, "we should be saved."
"What horsemen do you allude to, general I where do you see them?" the
hunter asked.
"There," he replied, "near the clump of cork trees. Do you see them?"
"Oh," said Valentine, "they are riding quietly, like men who know they
are on the right road, and have nothing to fear."
"They are very lucky," the general muttered.
"Bah! Who knows what awaits them on turning from the road they are now
following so peacefully?" the hunter remarked, with a smile; "No one can
answer for the next minute; they are on the road from Independence to
Santa Fe."
"Hum! I should like to be there too," the general growled between his
teeth.
Valentine, who first looked carelessly at the horsemen, now followed
them with interest, almost with anxiety; but they soon disappeared in a
bend of a road. For a long time, however, the hunter remained with his
eyes fixed on the spot where he had first seen them; gradually he began
frowning, a deep wrinkle was hollowed on his forehead, and he leaned on
his rifle, motionless and dumb, but seeming to be suffering from great
agitation. Involuntarily, his comrades followed with growing interest
the current of his thoughts, which could be read, as it were, on their
companion's brow. He remained for some time thus absorbed, but at length
he raised his head, and looked around with a bright and intrepid glance.
"My friends," he said, joyously, as he struck the butt of his rifle on
the ground, "regain courage, I believe I have found the way of getting
safe and sound out of the wasp nest into which we have thrust our
heads."
His comrades gave vent to a sigh of relief, almost of joy. They knew the
hunter, they were aware how fertile the mind of this brave and devoted
man was in expedients, and how inaccessible to despondency; they put
entire faith in him. Valentine told them he believed he could save them;
they did not suspect what means he would employ, but that was his
business, not theirs. Now they were calm, for they had his word, which
he had never been known to break; they had only to wait patiently till
the hour for their deliverance arrived.
"Bah!" the general answered, gaily, "I was sure we should get out of
this, my friend."
"When shall we start?" Don Pablo asked.
"As soon as it is night," Valentine replied; "but where is Curumilla?"
"On my word I do not know. I saw him about half an hour ago, gliding
along the mountain side, as if he had suddenly gone mad; but I have not
seen him since."
"Curumilla does nothing without a reason," the hunter said with a shake
of the head; "you will soon see him return."
Indeed, the hunter had scarce finished speaking, when the Indian chief
shewed his head level with the platform, and with one leap he rejoined
his friends. His zarapé, knotted at the four corners, hung behind his
back.
"What have you there, chief?" Valentine asked, with a smile: "Can it be
food?"
"Cuerpo de Cristo!" the general exclaimed, "it would be welcome, for I
have a wolf's appetite."
"Where could provisions be found in this fearful region?" Don Pablo
exclaimed, in a hollow voice.
"My brothers will see," the chief simply answered.
And he threw his zarapé on the snow, where Valentine undone the knots.
The hunters uttered a cry of joy, for it contained a hare, a young
peccary, and several birds. These provisions, arriving so opportunely,
when the hunters had been fasting for nearly forty-eight hours, seemed
to them the result of magic.
To understand the emotion the four men experienced at the sight of the
much-desired food, a man must have himself gone through all the agony of
hunger, without any hope of stilling it--it was almost frenzy. When the
first impression was slightly calmed, Valentine turned to the chief, and
pressed his hand tenderly, as a tear rolled down his cheek.
"My brother is a great sorcerer," he said to him.
The Ulmen smiled softly, and stretched out his arm to an eagle flying a
short distance from the spot where the hunters stood.
"We shared," he said.
Valentine could not restrain a cry of admiration, for all was explained
to him. The Araucano, whom nothing escaped, had seen the eagle, guessed
that it had a brood, and clambered up to its nest to procure a portion
of their food, while on the summit of the peak his comrades were all but
yielding to their despair.
"Oh!" Valentine said joyfully, "We are saved, since we shall regain that
strength we so much need to carry out the plan we have formed. Follow
me, we will return to the camp, gaily eat the dinner the eagles have
supplied us with, and start this evening."
Comforted by these words, the hunters followed him, and the little party
went lightly down the mountain, up which they had clambered in the
morning with such difficulty and despair in their hearts.