NATHAN PAINTS HIMSELF.
So soon as he had got out of sight of his comrades, Nathan halted. He
was neither so careless nor confident as he wished to appear. When he
was alone and away from those who might ridicule, he gave way to his ill
temper, and cursed the chance that placed him in such a precarious and
dangerous position.
Nathan, we think we have already said, was a species of Hercules, gifted
with uncommon energy and ferocity. Accustomed from his childhood to a
desert life and its sanguinary tragedies, he was not the man to despond
and despair easily. Pitiless to himself as to others, he perfectly
accepted the consequences of the situation in which he found himself at
times placed, and, in case of necessity, was resolved to fight to the
death in defence of his scalp.
At this moment, however, it was not his position in itself that rendered
him anxious. He had been a hundred times beset by equal danger in
crossing the prairie; but hitherto, when he had perilled his life, he
had done it with an object he knew perfectly well, with the prospect,
near or remote, of some profit; but this time he regarded himself as
obeying a will he was ignorant of, for a purpose he did not understand,
and for interests that were not his own. Hence, he cursed his father,
Fray Ambrosio, and himself for having thus got into a trap, whence he
did not know how to escape.
Red Cedar's last recommendation was necessary. Nathan was not at all
anxious to have his trail discovered. He employed all the means his
intelligence suggested to him to hide it from the keenest glance, only
taking a step after convincing himself that the trace of the previous
one had disappeared. After ripe reflection, he had arrived at the
following conclusion--
"It's all the worse for them, but each for himself! If I lose my scalp
they will not give it me back. I will, therefore, defend it as well as I
can. They must do what they can, but for my part I must do my best to
get out of the scrape."
After these words, uttered in a loud voice, in the way of men accustomed
to live alone, Nathan gave that almost imperceptible shrug of his
shoulders, which in all countries signifies "let what will happen." And,
after carefully examining his rifle, he started afresh.
Europeans, accustomed to the horizons of the old world, to macadamised
roads, bordered by pleasant houses and traversed in every direction,
cannot form, even approximately, a correct idea of the position of a man
alone in that ocean of verdure called the "Far West", who feels himself
watched by invisible eyes, and knows he is tracked like a wild beast.
A man, however brave he may be, and accustomed to the adventurous life
of the desert, shudders and feels very weak when he turns an enquiring
glance around him, and sees himself, so little in the immensity that
surrounds him. In the desert, if you wish to go north, you must march to
the south; be attentive not to crush the leaves on which you walk, break
the branches that bar the way, and, above all, not to make the pebbles
on which you step grate against each other.
All the sounds of the desert are known to, explained, and commented on
by the redskins. After listening for a few seconds, they can tell you if
the animal whose footfall is heard in the distance, is a horse, a bear,
a buffalo, an elk, or an antelope. A pebble rolling down the side of a
ravine suffices to denounce a prowler. A few drops of water spilt on the
edge of a ford, clearly reveal the passing of several travellers. An
unusual movement in the tall grass, betrays a watching spy. Everything,
in short, from the down-trodden blade of grass to the buffalo that
suddenly cocks its ears while browsing, or the asshata bounding in alarm
without cause--all in the desert serves as a book, in which the Indian
reads the passage of friend or foe, and puts him on his trail, even
though they be one hundred miles apart.
The men who live in these countries, where material life is everything,
acquire a perfection of certain organs which, seems incredible; sight
and hearing especially are enormously developed in them; and this,
combined with extreme agility, dauntless courage, and sustained by
muscles of remarkable vigour, renders them dangerous adversaries. In
addition to this, we have that cunning and treachery which are never
apart, and are the two great means which the Indians employ to seize
their foes, whom they never attack face to face, but always by surprise.
Necessity is the supreme law of the Indian, and he sacrifices everything
to it, and, like all incomplete or badly-developed natures, he only
admits physical qualities, caring nothing for virtues he does not want,
but, on the contrary, would injure him in the life he leads.
Nathan was himself almost a redskin: only at rare intervals had he
visited, for a few days at a time, the towns of the American Union.
Hence all he knew of life he had learned in the desert; and that
education is as good as another when the instincts of the man who
receives it are good; because he is able to make a choice, and take what
is noble and generous, laying aside what is bad. Unfortunately, Nathan
had never any other teacher of morality but his father. From an early
age he had been accustomed to regard things in the same way as the
squatter did, and that was the worst of all. Hence with years the
teaching be received had fructified so fully that he had become the true
type of the civilised man who has turned savage; the most hideous
transformation of species that can be imagined.
Nathan loved nothing, believed in nothing, and respected nothing. Only
one person had any influence over him, and that was Ellen; but at this
moment she was no longer by his side.
The young man marched on for a long time without perceiving anything
that revealed the approach of danger; still this factitious security did
not make him neglect his precautions. While walking on, with rifle
thrust out before him, his body bent forward, and eye and ear on the
watch, he thought, and the further he went, the more gloomy his thoughts
became.
The reason was simple; he knew that he was surrounded by implacable
foes, watched by numerous spies, and yet nothing disturbed the quiet of
the prairie. All appeared to be in its ordinary state; it was impossible
to notice the least suspicious movement in the grass or shrubs. This
calmness was too profound to be natural, and Nathan was not deceived by
it.
"Humph!" he said to himself, "I shall have a row presently, I feel
certain; deuce take those brutes of redskins for not giving a sign of
life. I am walking blindly, not knowing where I am going, I am convinced
I shall fall into some trap laid for me by these villains, and which it
will be impossible for me to get out of."
Nathan went on walking till about ten in the morning. At that hour, as
he felt hungry, and his legs were rather stiff, he resolved at all
hazards to take a few moments' rest and some mouthfuls of meat. He
mechanically looked round him to seek a suitable, spot, but he suddenly
gave a start of surprise as he raised his rifle, and hid himself behind
an enormous tree. He had noticed, scarce fifty yards from him, an
Indian, sitting carelessly on the ground and quietly eating a little
pemmican.
After the first emotion had worn off, Nathan attentively examined the
Indian. He was a man of thirty at the most; he did not wear the garb of
a warrior, and two screech owl feathers fixed in his thick hair, over
his right ear, rendered it easy to recognise a Nez-Percé Indian. The
adventurer looked at him a long time ere he could make up his mind what
to do; at length he threw his rifle on his shoulder, left his hiding
place, and walked up to the Indian. The latter probably saw him, though
he displayed no alarm, and quietly went on eating. When about two paces
from the Nez-Percé the American stopped.
"I salute my brother," he said, raising his voice, and unfolding his
zarapé in sign of peace; "may the Wacondah grant him a great hunt."
"I thank my paleface brother," the Indian replied, as he looked up; "he
is welcome, I have two handfuls of pemmican left, and there is a place
for him at my fire."
Nathan approached, and, without further ceremony, sat down by the side
of his new friend, who paternally shared his food with him, but asked
him no questions. After feeding, the Nez-Percé lit an Indian pipe, in
which his companion at once imitated him.
The two men remained there, silently puffing the smoke in each other's
face. When the Nez-Percé had finished his calumet, he shook out the ash
on his thumb, placed the pipe in his belt, and and then resting his
elbows on his knees, and his face in the palm of his hands, he plunged
into that state of ecstatic beatitude which the Italians call the _dolce
far niente_, the Turks _keff_, and which has no equivalent in English.
Nathan filled his pipe a second time, and then turned to his comrade.
"Is my brother a chief?" he asked him.
The Indian raised his head.
"No," he answered, with a proud smile, "I am one of the masters of the
great medicine."
Nathan bowed respectfully.
"I understand," he said, "my brother is one of the wise men, whom the
redskins call _allanus_."
"I am also a sorcerer," the Nez-Percé said.
"Oh, oh! What, is my brother one of the Ministers of the Great Turtle?"
"Yes," he answered, "we command the caciques and warriors; they only act
on our orders."
"I know it; my father has great learning, his power extends over the
whole earth."
The Nez-Percé smiled condescendingly at this praise, and holding up a
small staff decorated with gay feathers and bells which he held in his
right hand, he said:
"This _mulbache_ is a more tremendous weapon than the thunder of the
palefaces; everywhere it makes me feared and respected."
A sinister smile for the second time curled the American's lips.
"Is my brother returning to his nation?" he asked.
"No," the Indian said with a shake of the hand; "I am expected at the
village of the Buffalo Apaches, who require my counsel and my medicine,
in order to undertake, under favourable auspices, a great expedition
they are meditating at this moment. My brother will therefore forgive my
leaving him, for I must reach the end of my journey this night."
"I will not leave my red brother," Nathan answered; "if he will permit
me, I will walk in his moccasins, for my footsteps have the same
direction as my brother's."
"I gladly accept my brother's proposition; let us start then."
"I am ready."
After rising and adjusting his dress, the Indian stooped to pick up a
small bundle, which probably contained his scanty property. Nathan
profited by the movement; swift as thought he drew his knife, and buried
it to the hilt between the Indian's shoulders. The unhappy man uttered a
stifled cry, stretched out his arms, and fell dead. The American
phlegmatically drew his knife from the horrible wound, wiped it in the
grass, and returned it to his girdle.
"Hum!" he said, with a grin; "there's a poor devil of a sorcerer, whose
skill could not save him: I will try whether I cannot succeed better."
While talking with the redskin, whom he had at first no intention of
killing, and whom he only wished to make a protector, a sudden idea
crossed his mind. This idea, which at the first blush will seem
extraordinary, suited the bandit, owing to the boldness and daring it
required to carry it out successfully. He made up his mind to assume the
sorcerer's clothes, and pass for him among the redskins. Long conversant
with Indian habits and customs, Nathan felt sure he should play this
difficult part with all the perfection necessary to deceive even sharper
eyes than those of the savages. After assuring himself that his victim
gave no sign of life, Nathan began removing his garments, which he put
on instead of his own. When this first change was effected, he riffled
the sorcerer's bag, took out a mirror, bladders filled with vermilion,
and a black pigment, and with small pieces of wood painted on his face
the strange figures that were on the sorcerer's. The imitation was
perfect; from the face he passed to the body; then he fastened on his
hair, and stuck in it the two screech owl feathers. Nathan had
frequently disguised himself as an Indian, when going scalp hunting with
his father, hence the metamorphosis in a few seconds.
"This carrion must not be found," he said.
Taking the body on his back, he hurled it to the bottom of a precipice.
"Well, that is settled," he continued, with a laugh; "if the Apaches are
not satisfied with the great medicine man who is coming to them, they
will be difficult to please."
As he did not wish to lose his clothes, he hid them in the Indian's
bundle, which he passed over his rifle barrel; he then took the poor
sorcerer's staff, and gaily set out, muttering to himself with an
impudent smile--
"We shall soon see whether this mulbache really possesses the magic
powers that are attributed to it."