COUSIN BRUIN.
Nathan's flight was discovered by a singular accident. The Comanches are
no more accustomed than other Indians to have grand rounds and night
patrols during the night, which are inventions of civilised nations
quite unknown on the prairie. In all probability, the Indians would not
have perceived their prisoner's disappearance till daybreak.
Nathan fully built on this. He was too well acquainted with Indian
habits not to know what he had to depend on in this respect. But he had
not taken hatred into calculation, that vigilant sentry which nothing
can send to sleep.
About an hour after Nathan's successful ascent, White Gazelle, aroused
by the cold, and more probably by the desire of assuring herself that
the prisoner could not escape, rose, and crossed the camp alone,
striding over the sleeping warriors, and feeling her way as well as she
could in the dark; for most of the fires had gone out, and those which
still burned spread only an uncertain light. Impelled by that feeling,
of hatred which so rarely deceives those who feel its sharpened sting,
she at length found her way through this inextricable labyrinth, and
reached the tree to which the prisoner had been fastened. The tree was
deserted. The cords which had bound Nathan lay cut a few paces off,
while Gazelle was stupefied for a moment at this sight, which she was so
far from expecting.
"Oh!" she muttered savagely, "it is a family of demons! But how has he
escaped? Where can he have fled?"
"Those villains are quietly asleep," she said, seeing the warriors
reposing, "while the man they were ordered to watch is laughing at them
far away."
She spurned them with her foot.
"Accursed dogs!" she yelled, "wake up! The prisoner has escaped!"
The men did not stir.
"Oh, oh!" she said, "What means this?"
She stooped down and carefully examined them: all was revealed to her at
once.
"Dead!" she said; "he has assassinated them. What diabolical power must
this race of reprobates possess!"
After a moment of terror, she sprang up furiously and rushed through the
camp, shouting in a shrill voice:
"Up, up! Warriors, the prisoner has fled!"
All were on their feet in a moment. Unicorn was one of the first to
seize his weapons, and hurried towards her, asking the meaning of those
unusual sounds. In a few words White Gazelle informed him, and Unicorn,
more furious than herself, aroused his warriors, and sent them in all
directions in pursuit of Nathan.
But we know that, temporarily at least, the squatter's son had nothing
to fear from this vain search. The miraculous flight of a man from the
middle of a camp of warriors, unperceived by the sentries, had something
so extraordinary about it, that the Comanches, superstitious as all
Indians, were disposed to believe in the intervention of the Genius of
Evil. The whole camp was in confusion: every one ran in a different
direction, brandishing torches. The circle widened more and more. The
warriors, carried away by their ardour, left the clearing and entered the
forest.
All at once a shrill cry broke through the air, and everybody stopped as
if by enchantment.
"Oh," White Gazelle asked, "what is that?"
"Koutonepi, my brother," Unicorn replied briefly, as he repeated the
signal.
"Let us run to meet him," the girl said.
They hurried forward, closely followed by a dozen warriors, and soon
stood under the tree where Valentine and his companions were standing.
The hunter saw them coming, and hence called to them.
"Where are you?" Unicorn asked.
"Up this larch tree," Valentine shouted; "stop and look."
The Indians looked up.
"Wah!" Unicorn said with astonishment, "What is my brother doing there?"
"I will tell you, but first help me to come down; we are not comfortably
situated for conversing, especially for what I have to tell you, chief."
"Good; I await my brother."
Valentine fastened his lasso to a branch and prepared to slide down, but
Curumilla laid a hand on his shoulder.
"What do you want, chief?"
"Is my brother going down?"
"You see," Valentine said, pointing to the lasso.
Curumilla shook his head with an air of dissatisfaction.
"Red Cedar!" he said.
"Ah, _Canarios!_" the hunter exclaimed, as he struck his forehead, "I
did not think about him. Why, I must be going mad. By Jove, chief! You
are a precious man, nothing escapes your notice--wait."
Valentine stooped, and forming his hands into a speaking-trumpet,
shouted--
"Chief, come up."
"Good."
The sachem seized the lasso, and by the strength of his wrists raised
himself to the branch, where Valentine and Curumilla received him.
"Here I am," he said.
"By what chance are you hunting in the forest at this time of night?"
the hunter asked him.
Unicorn told him in a few words what had occurred. At this narration
Valentine frowned, and in his turn informed the chief of what he had
done.
"It is serious," Unicorn said, with a shake of his head.
"It is," Valentine answered; "it is plain the men we seek are not far
from here. Perhaps they are listening to us."
"It is possible," Unicorn muttered; "but what is to be done in the
darkness?"
"Good! Let us be as clever as they. How many warriors have you down
there?"
"Ten, I believe."
"Good. Have you among them any in whom you can trust?"
"All," the sachem answered, proudly.
"I do not allude to courage, but to experience."
"Wah! I have Spider."
"That's the man. He will take our place here with his warriors; he will
cut off the communication aloft, while my comrades and I follow you. I
should like to inspect the spot where your prisoner was tied up."
All was arranged as Valentine proposed. Spider established himself on
the trees with his warriors, with orders to keep a good look-out; and
Valentine, now sure of having raised an impassible barrier before Red
Cedar, prepared to go to the camp, accompanied by Unicorn. Curumilla
again interposed.
"Why go down?" he said.
Valentine was so well acquainted with his comrade's way of speaking,
that he understood him at half a word.
"True," he said to Unicorn; "let us go to the camp, proceeding from
branch to branch. Curumilla is right; in that way, if Red Cedar is
concealed in the neighbourhood, we shall discover him."
The Comanche Sachem nodded his head in assent, and they set out. They
had been walking for about half an hour, when Curumilla, who was in
front, stopped and uttered a suppressed cry. The hunters raised their
heads, and perceived, a few yards above them, an enormous black mass,
carelessly swaying about.
"Well," Valentine said, "what is that?"
"A bear," Curumilla replied.
"Indeed!" said Don Pablo; "it is a splendid black bear."
"Let us give him a bullet," Don Miguel remarked.
"Do not fire, for Heaven's sake!" Don Pablo exclaimed eagerly, "it would
give an alarm and warn the fellows we are looking for of the spot where
we are."
"Still, I should like to collar it," Valentine observed, "were it only
for its fur."
"No," Unicorn peremptorily said, who had hitherto been silent, "bears
are the cousins of my family."
"In that case it is different," said the hunter, concealing with
difficulty an ironical smile.
The prairie Indians, as we think we have said before, are excessively
superstitious. Among other articles of faith, they believe they spring
from certain animals, which they treat as relatives, and for which they
profess a profound respect, which does not prevent them, however, from
killing them occasionally, as, for instance, when they are pressed by
hunger, as frequently happens; but we must do the Indians the justice of
saying, that they never proceed to such extremities with their relatives
without asking their pardon a thousand times, and first explaining to
them that hunger alone compelled them to have recourse to this extreme
measure to support life.
Unicorn had no need of provisions at this moment, for his camp was
choked with them, hence he displayed a praiseworthy politeness and
gallantry to his cousin Bruin. He bowed to him, and spoke to him for
some minutes in the most affectionate way, while the bear continued to
sway about, apparently not attaching great importance to the chief's
remarks, and rather annoyed than flattered by the compliments his cousin
paid him. The chief, internally piqued by this indifference in such bad
taste, gave a parting bow to the bear, and went on. The little party
advanced for some time in silence.
"I do not care," Valentine suddenly said; "I do not know why, but I
should have liked to have your cousin's hide, chief."
"Wah!" Unicorn answered, "there are buffaloes in camp."
"I know that very well," Valentine said, "so that is not my reason."
"What is it, then?"
"I don't know, but that bear did not seem to me all right, and had a
suspicious look about it."
"My brother is jesting."
"No; on my word, chief, that animal did not seem to me true. For a
trifle, I would return and have it out."
"Does my brother think, then, that Unicorn is a child, who cannot
recognise an animal?" the sachem asked, haughtily.
"Heaven forbid my having such a thought, chief; I know you are an
experienced warrior, but the cleverest men may be taken in."
"Oh! Oh! what does my brother suppose, then?"
"Will you have my honest opinion?"
"Yes, my brother will speak; he is a great hunter, his knowledge is
immense."
"No, I am only an ignorant fellow, but I have carefully studied the
habits of wild beasts."
"Well," Don Miguel asked, "your opinion is that the bear--?"
"Is Red Cedar, or one of his sons," Valentine quickly interrupted.
"What makes you think so?"
"Just this: at this hour wild beasts have gone down to drink; but even
supposing that bear had returned already, do you not know that all
animals fly from man? This one, dazzled by the light, startled by the
cries it heard in the usually quiet forest, ought to have tried to
escape if it obeyed its instincts, which would have been easy to do,
instead of impudently dancing before us at a height of one hundred feet
from the ground; the more so, because the bear is too prudent and
selfish an animal to confide its precious carcase so thoughtlessly to
such slender branches as those on which it was balancing. Hum! The more
I reflect, the more persuaded I am that this animal is a man."
The hunters, and Unicorn himself, who listened with the utmost attention
to Valentine's words, were struck with the truth of his remarks;
numerous details which had escaped them now returned to their minds, and
corroborated the Trail-hunter's suspicions.
"It is possible," Don Miguel said, "and for my part I am not indisposed
to believe it."
"Good gracious!" Valentine went on, "You can understand that on so dark
a night as this it was easy for the chief, in spite of all his
experience, to be deceived--especially at such a distance as we were
from the animal, which we only glimpsed; still, we committed a grave
fault, and I first of all, in not trying to acquire a certainty."
"Ah!" the Indian said, "my brother is right; wisdom resides in him."
"Now it is too late to go back--the fellow will have decamped,"
Valentine remarked, thoughtfully; "but," he added a moment after, as he
looked round, "where on earth is Curumilla?"
At the same instant a loud noise of breaking branches, followed by a
suppressed cry, was heard a little distance off.
"Oh, oh!" Valentine said, "Can the bear be at any tricks?"
The cry of the jay was heard.
"That is Curumilla's signal," said Valentine; "what the deuce can he be
up to?"
"Let us go back and see," Don Miguel remarked.
"By Jove! Do you fancy I should desert my old companion so?" Valentine
exclaimed, as he replied to his friend by a similar cry to the one he
had given.
The hunters hurried back as quickly as the narrow and dangerous path
they were following allowed. Curumilla, comfortably seated on a branch
whose foliage completely hid him from anyone who might be spying
overhead, was laughing to himself. It was so extraordinary to see the
Ulmen laugh, and the hour seemed so unsuited for it, that Valentine was
alarmed, and at the first moment was not far from believing that his
worthy friend had suddenly gone mad.
"Halloh, chief," he said, as he looked round, "tell me why you are
laughing so. Were it only to follow your example, I should be glad to
know the cause of this extreme gaiety."
Curumilla fixed his intelligent eye on him, and replied, with a smile
full of good humour--
"The Ulmen is pleased."
"I can see that," Valentine replied, "but I do not know why, and want to
do so."
"Curumilla has killed the bear," the Aucas said, sententiously.
"Nonsense!" Valentine remarked, in surprise.
"My brother can look, there is the chief's cousin."
Unicorn looked savage, but Valentine and his friends peered in the
direction indicated by the Araucano. Curumilla's lasso, securely
fastened to the branch on which the hunters were standing, hung
downwards, with a black and clumsy mass swaying from its extremity. It
was the bear's carcass.
Curumilla, during the conversation between Unicorn and his relative,
carefully watched the animal's movement; like Valentine, its motions did
not seem to him natural enough, and he wished to know the truth.
Consequently, he waited the departure of his friends, fastened his lasso
to a branch, and while the bear was carelessly descending from its
perch, fancying it had got rid of its visitors, Curumilla lassoed it. At
this unexpected attack the animal tottered and lost its balance--in
short, it fell, and remaining suspended in the air; thanks to the slip
knot, which pressed its throat and saved it from broken bones; as a
recompense, however, it was strangled.
The hunters began drawing up the lasso, for all burned to know were they
deceived. After some efforts the animal's corpse was stretched out on a
branch. Valentine bent over it, but rose again almost immediately.
"I was sure of it," he said, contemptuously.
He kicked off the head, which fell, displaying in its stead Nathan's
face, whose features were frightfully convulsed.
"Oh!" they exclaimed, "Nathan."
"Yes," Valentine remarked. "Red Cedar's eldest son."
"_One!_" Don Miguel said, in a hollow voice.
Poor Nathan was not lucky in his disguises; in the first he was all but
burnt alive, in the second he was hanged.