PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT.
We will now return to Valentine and his friends, whom we left preparing
to pursue Red Cedar once more.
Valentine had began to take a real interest in this protracted manhunt;
it was the first time since he had been in the desert that he had to
deal with a foeman so worthy of his steel as was Red Cedar.
Like him, the squatter possessed a thorough knowledge of life in the Far
West--all the sounds of the prairie were known to him, all tracks
familiar; like him, he had made Indian trickery and cunning his special
study; in a word, Valentine had found his equal, if not his master. His
powerfully excited self-love urged him to bring this game of chess to a
conclusion; hence he was resolved to press matters so vigorously that,
in spite of his cleverness, Red Cedar must soon fall into his hands.
After leaving, as we have seen, the upper regions of the Sierra, the
hunters advanced in the shape of a fan, in order to find some sign which
would enable them to find the long lost trail, for, according to the
axiom well known to the wood rangers, any rastreador, who holds one end
of a trail, must infallibly reach the other within a given time.
Unfortunately, no trace or sign was visible; Red Cedar had disappeared,
and it was impossible to find the slightest trace of the way he had
gone.
Still, Valentine did not give in; he studied the ground, examined every
blade of grass, and cross-questioned the shrubs with a patience nothing
could weary. His friends, less accustomed than himself to the frequent
disappointments in a hunter's life, in vain gave him despairing glances;
he walked on, with his head bent down, neither seeing their signals nor
hearing their remarks.
At length, about midday, after going nearly four leagues in this
fashion--a most wearying task--the hunters found themselves on a
perfectly naked rock. At this spot it would have been madness to look
for footprints, as the granite would not take them. Don Miguel and his
son fell to the ground, more through despondency than fatigue.
Curumilla began collecting the scattered leaves to light the breakfast
fire, while Valentine, leaning on his rifle, with his forehead furrowed
by deep wrinkles, looked scrutinisingly round. At the spot where the
hunters had established their temporary bivouac, no vegetation grew on
the barren rocks; while an immense larch tree over-shadowed it with its
well-covered branches.
The hunter incessantly turned his intelligent eye from earth to sky, as
if he had a foreboding that at this spot he must find the trail he had
so long been seeking. All at once he uttered a sonorous "hum!" At this
sound, a signal agreed on between the Indian and him, Curumilla left off
collecting the leaves, raised his head, and looked at him. Valentine
walked towards him with a hasty step; the two Mexicans eagerly rose and
joined him.
"Have you discovered anything?" Don Miguel asked, curiously.
"No," Valentine replied, "but in all probability I soon shall."
"Here?"
"Yes, at this very spot," he said, with a knowing smile; "believe me,
you shall soon see."
While saying this, the hunter stooped, picked up a handful of leaves,
and began examining them attentively, one by one.
"What can those leaves teach you?" Don Miguel asked with a shrug of his
shoulders.
"Everything," Valentine firmly replied, as he continued his examination.
Curumilla was surveying the ground, and questioning the rock.
"Wah!" he said.
All stopped; the chief pointed to a line about half an inch, of the
thickness of a hair, recently made on the rock.
"They have passed this way," Valentine went on, "that is as certain to
me as that two and two make four; everything proves it to me; the steps
we discovered going away from the spot where we now are--are a sure
proof."
"How so?" Don Miguel asked in amazement.
"Nothing is more simple; the traces that deceived you could not humbug
an old wood ranger like myself; they pressed too heavily on the heel,
and were not regular, proves them false."
"Why false?"
"Of course. This is what Red Cedar did to hide the direction he took; he
walked for nearly two leagues backwards."
"You think so?"
"I am sure of it. Red Cedar, though aged, is still possessed of all the
vigour of youth; his steps are firm and perfectly regular; like all men
accustomed to forest life, he walks cautiously, that is to say, first
putting down the point of his foot, like every man who is not certain
that he may not have to go back. In the footsteps we saw, as I told you,
the heel was put down first, and is much deeper buried than the rest of
the foot; that is quite impossible, unless a person has walked
backwards, especially for some time."
"That is true," Don Miguel answered; "what you say could not be more
logical."
Valentine smiled.
"We have not got to the end yet," he said; "let me go on."
"But," Don Pablo remarked, "supposing that Red Cedar did come here,
which I now believe as fully as you do, how is it that we do not find
his traces on the other side of the rock? However carefully he may have
hidden them, we should discover them, if they existed."
"Of course; but they are not here, and it is useless to lose time in
looking for them. Red Cedar has come here, as this mark proves; but you
will ask me why he did so? For a reason very easy to comprehend; on this
granite soil, footsteps are effaced; the squatter wished to throw us out
by bringing us to a spot where we must completely lose his direction, if
we succeeded in finding his track. He succeeded up to a certain point;
but he wished to be too clever, and went beyond his object; before ten
minutes, I will show you the trail as clear as if we had been present
when he went off."
"I confess, my friend, that all you say greatly astonishes me," Don
Miguel replied. "I never could understand this species of sublime
instinct which helps you to find your way in the desert, although you
have already given me the most astonishing proofs; still, I confess that
what is taking place at this moment surpasses everything I have hitherto
seen you do."
"Good gracious!" Valentine answered; "you pay me compliments I am far
from deserving; all this is an affair of reasoning, and especially of
habit. Thus, it is as plain to you as it is to me, that Red Cedar came
here?"
"Yes."
"Very good; as he came, he must have gone away again," the hunter said
with a laugh; "for the reason that he is no longer here, or we should
have him."
"That is certain."
"Good; now look how he can have gone."
"That is exactly what I do not see."
"Because you are blind, or because you will not take the trouble."
"Oh, my friend, I swear--"
"Pardon, I am in error: it is because you cannot explain what you see."
"What?" Don Miguel said, slightly piqued by this remark.
"Certainly," Valentine went on phlegmatically; "and you shall confess I
am in the right."
"I shall be delighted to do so."
In spite of his good sense, and the other great qualities with which he
was gifted, Valentine had the weakness, common to many men, of liking,
under certain circumstances, to, make a parade of his knowledge of
desert life. This defect, which is very frequently found on the
prairies, in no way injured his character, and was pardonable after all.
"You shall see," he said with that sort of condescension which persons
who know a thing thoroughly, assume on explaining it to the ignorant:
"Red Cedar has been here and has disappeared: I arrive and look: he
cannot have flown away, or buried himself in the ground: hence he must
absolutely have gone by some road a man can use; look at these leaves
scattered over the rock, they are sign No. 1."
"How so?"
"Hang it! That is clear enough, we are not at the season when trees lose
their leaves: hence they did not fall."
"Why so?"
"Because, if they had, they would be yellow and dry, and instead they are
green, crumpled, and some are even torn; hence it is positive, I think,
that they have been removed from the tree by violence."
"That is true," Don Miguel muttered, his surprise at its height.
"Now, let us seek what unknown force tore them from the tree."
While saying this, Valentine had begun walking on, with his body bent to
the ground, in the direction where he had seen the black line. His
friends imitated his movements and followed him, also looking carefully
on the ground. All at once Valentine stooped, picked up a piece of bark
about the size of half his hand, and showed it to Don Miguel.
"All is explained to me now," he said: "look at that piece of bark: it
is pressed and broken as if a rope had been round it, I think?"
"It is."
"Well, do you not understand?"
"On my word, no more than I did just now."
Valentine shrugged his shoulders.
"Listen to me then," he said; "Red Cedar came thus far: with his lasso
he caught the end of that heavy branch just above our heads; and with
the help of his companions, pulled it down to the ground. The black
mark we saw proves what an effort they made. Once the bough was bent,
the squatter's comrades mounted on it one after the other: Red Cedar,
the last, went up with it, and all found themselves some seventy feet
above ground. You must allow this is all very ingenious; but, unluckily,
the squatter's boots left on this rock a graze about the width of a
hair, and leaves fell from the tree; on unfastening his lasso, a piece
of bark broke off, and as he was in a hurry, and could not come down
again to remove all these ruinous proofs, I have seen them, and now I
know as well all that happened here, as if I had been present."
The hunters did not merely display surprise at this clear and lucid
explanation, but seemed struck speechless by such an incredible proof of
sagacity.
"It is miraculous," Don Miguel at length exclaimed; "then you believe
Red Cedar went off by that tree?"
"I would bet anything on it. However, you shall soon be convinced of it,
for we shall follow the same road."
"But we cannot go far on that way."
"You are mistaken. In the virgin forests like the one that stretches out
before us, the road we are about to follow is often the only one
practicable. And now that we have found the bandits' trail, not to lose
it again, I hope, let us breakfast quickly, so as to start the sooner in
pursuit."
The hunters sat down gaily round the fire, and ate some grizzly bear
meat. But their impatience made them take double mouthfuls, so that the
meal was over in a twinkling, and they were soon ready to commence their
researches. Valentine, in order to prove to his friends the exactness of
the information he had given them, employed the same means Red Cedar had
done to mount the tree, and when the hunters had assembled there, they
allowed the truth of Valentine's statements: Red Cedar's trail was
plainly visible.
They went on thus for a long time following the bandit's trail; but the
further they went, the less distinct it became, and it was soon lost for
the second time.
Valentine stopped and collected his friends.
"Let us hold a council," he said.
"I think," Don Miguel observed, "that Red Cedar fancied he had been long
enough up a tree, and so went back to the ground."
Valentine shook his head.
"You have not got it," he said, "what you assert, my friend, is
materially impossible."
"Why so?"
"Because the trail, as you see, suddenly ceases over a lake."
"That is true."
"Hum! It is plain that Red Cedar did not swim across it. Let us go on at
all hazards, I feel certain that we shall speedily recover the trail;
that direction is the only one Red Cedar could have followed. His object
is to cross the line of foes who surround him on all sides; if he buried
himself in the mountains, we know by experience, and he knows as well as
we do, he would infallibly perish; hence he can only escape in this way,
and we must pursue him."
"Still remaining on the trees?" Don Miguel asked.
"By Jove! Do not forget, my friends, that the bandits have a girl with
them. The poor child is not accustomed like them to these fearful desert
journeys; she could not endure them for an hour if her father and
brothers were not careful to lead her by comparatively easy roads. Look
beneath you, and you will feel convinced that it is impossible for a
girl to have passed that way. This is our road," he added peremptorily,
"and it is the only one by which we shall discover our enemy."
"Let us go, then," the Mexicans exclaimed.
Curumilla, according to his habit, said nothing; he had not even stopped
to listen to the discussion, but walked on.
"Wah!" he suddenly said.
His friends eagerly hurried up. The chief held in his hand a piece of
striped calico, no larger than a shilling.
"You see," Valentine said, "we are in a good direction, so we will not
leave it."
This discovery stopped all discussion. The day gradually passed away,
the red globe of the sun appeared in the distance between the stems of
the trees, and after marching two hours longer, the darkness was
complete.
"What is to be done?" Don Miguel asked; "We cannot spend the night
perched up here, like parakeet. Let us choose a convenient spot to camp;
tomorrow, at daybreak, we will ascend again and continue the chase."
"Yes," Valentine said, with a laugh, "and during the night, while we are
quietly asleep down there, if any incident occurs that compels Red Cedar
to turn back, he will slip through our fingers like a snake, and we know
nothing about it. No, no, my friend, you must make up your mind to perch
here for the night like a parrot, as you say, if you do not wish to lose
the fruit of all your trouble and fatigue."
"Oh, oh, if it is so," Don Miguel exclaimed, "I consent. I would sooner
sleep a week in a tree than let that villain escape."
"Do not be alarmed; he will not keep us at work all that time; the boar
is at bay, and will soon be found. However large the desert may be, it
possesses no unexplored refuge to men who are accustomed to traverse it
in every direction. Red Cedar has done more than a common man to escape
us. Now all is over with him, and he understands that it is only a
question of time."
"May Heaven grant it, my friend. I would give my life to avenge myself
on that monster."
"He will soon be in your power, I assure you."
At this moment Curumilla laid his hand on Valentine's arm.
"Well, chief, what is it?" the latter asked.
"Listen!"
The hunters did so. They soon heard, at a considerable distance,
confused cries, which momentarily became more distinct, and soon merged
into a fearful clamour.
"What is happening now?" Valentine asked, thoughtfully.
The shouts increased fearfully, strange lights illumined the forest,
whose guests, disturbed in their sleep, flew heavily here and there,
uttering plaintive cries.
"Attention!" the hunter said, "Let us try and discover what all this
means."
But their uncertainty did not last long. Valentine all at once left the
branch behind which he was concealed, and uttered a long, shrill cry,
which was replied to with fearful yells.
"What is it?" Don Miguel asked.
"Unicorn!" Valentine answered.