THE CASKET.
In spite of the start White Gazelle had, Don Pablo caught up to her
before she had gone two leagues from camp. On hearing a horse galloping
behind her, the girl turned, and one glance was sufficient for her to
recognise the Mexican. At the sight of him a feverish flush suffused her
face, a convulsive tremor fell upon her, and, in short, the emotion she
felt was so powerful, that she was compelled to stop. Still, ashamed of
letting the man she hopelessly loved see the impression the sight of him
produced on her, she made a supreme effort, and managed to assume a look
of indifference, while thoughts crowded her brain.
"What is he going to do here? Where is he going? We shall see," she
added to herself.
She waited, and Don Pablo soon found her. The young man, suffering from
extreme nervous excitement, was in the worst possible mood to act
diplomatically. On reaching the White Gazelle he bowed, and continued
his journey without speaking to her. White Gazelle shook her head.
"I know how to make him speak," she said.
Hitting her horse sharply with her _chicote_, she started at a gallop,
and kept by Don Pablo's side. The two riders went on thus for some time
without exchanging a syllable. Each of them seemed afraid of opening the
conversation, feeling in what direction it must turn. Still galloping
side by side, they at length reached a spot where two paths forked.
White Gazelle checked her horse, and stretched out her arm in a
northerly direction. "I am going there," she said.
"So am I," Don Pablo remarked, without hesitation.
The young woman looked at him with a surprise too natural not to be
feigned.
"Where are you going, then?" she went on.
"Where you are," he said again.
"But I am going to Bloodson's camp."
"Well, so am I; what is there so amazing in that?"
"Nothing; how does it concern me?" she said with a significant pout.
"You will, therefore, permit me, Niña, to accompany you to your
destination."
"I cannot and will not prevent you from following me; the road is free,
caballero," she drily replied.
They were silent as if by common agreement, and were absorbed in
thought. White Gazelle gave her companion one of those bright womanly
glances that read to the bottom of the heart; a smile played round her
cherry lips, and she shook her head maliciously. Singular thoughts
doubtless fermented in her head.
At about two of the _tarde_, as they say in Spanish countries, they
reached a ford on a small river, on the other side of which the huts of
Bloodson's camp could be seen at a distance of about two leagues. White
Gazelle halted, and at the moment her companion was about to take to the
water, she laid her little hand on his bridle, and checked him, saying,
in a soft but firm voice: "Before we go further, a word if you please,
caballero."
Don Pablo looked at her in surprise, but made no attempt to remove the
obstacle.
"I am listening to you, señorita," he said, with a bow.
"I know why you are going to Bloodson's camp," she continued.
"I doubt it," he said, with a shake of the head.
"Boy! This morning, when I was talking with Don Valentine, you were
lying at our feet."
"I was."
"If your eyes were shut, your ears were open."
"What do you mean?"
"That you heard our conversation."
"Suppose I did, what do you conclude from that?"
"You are going to the camp to counteract my plans, and make them fail,
if possible."
The young man started and looked disappointed at being so truly judged.
"Señorita," he said, with embarrassment.
"Do not deny it," she said kindly; "it would be useless, for I know
all."
"All!"
"Yes, and a great deal more than you know yourself."
The Mexican was amazed.
"Let us play fairly," she continued.
"I ask nothing better," he replied, not knowing what he said.
"You love the squatter's daughter?" she said distinctly.
"Yes."
"You wish to save her?"
"Yes."
"I will help you."
There was a silence; these few words had been interchanged by the
speakers with feverish rapidity.
"You are not deceiving me?" Don Pablo asked, timidly.
"No," she answered, frankly, "what good would it do me? You have given
her your heart, and a man cannot love really twice; I will help you, I
say."
The young man gazed at her with surprise mingled with terror. He
remembered what an implacable foe White Gazelle had been to poor Ellen
only a few months back, and suspected a snare. She guessed it, and a
sorrowful smile played round her lips.
"Love is no longer permitted me," she said; "my heart is not even
capacious enough for the hatred that devours it. I live only for
vengeance. Believe me, Don Pablo, I will treat you honourably. When you
are at length happy, and indebted to me for a small portion of the
happiness you enjoy, perhaps you will feel a little friendship and
gratitude for me. Alas! It is the only feeling I desire now; I am one of
those wretched, condemned creatures, who hurled involuntarily into an
abyss, cannot check their downward progress. Pity me, Don Pablo, but
dismiss all fear; for, I repeat to you, you have not and never will have
a more devoted friend than myself."
The girl pronounced these words with such an accent of sincerity, it was
so plain that the heart alone spoke, and that the sacrifice was
consummated without any after-thought, that Don Pablo felt affected by
such abnegation. By an irresistible impulse, he offered her his hand;
she pressed it warmly, wiped away a tear, and then banished every trace
of emotion.
"Now," she said, "not a word more: we understand one another, I think?"
"Oh, yes," he answered, gladly.
"Let us cross the stream," she said, with a smile; "in half an hour we
shall reach the camp; no one must know what has passed between us."
They soon reached Bloodson's camp, where they were received with shouts
of pleasure and welcome; they galloped through it and stopped before the
ranger's hut, who had come out, aroused by the shouts, and was awaiting.
The reception was cordial, and after the first compliments, White
Gazelle explained to her uncle the result of her mission and what had
occurred in Unicorn's camp while she was there.
"That Red Cedar is a perfect demon," he answered; "I alone have the
means in my hands to capture him."
"In what way?" Don Pablo asked.
"You shall see," he said.
Without further explanation, he raised a silver whistle to his lips, and
blew a clear and long note. At this summons, the buffalo-hide curtain of
the hut was raised from without, and a man appeared, in whom Don Pablo
recognised Andrés Garote. The gambusino bowed with that politeness
peculiar to Mexicans, and fixed his small grey and intelligent eyes on
Bloodson.
"Master Garote," the latter said, turning to him, "I have called you,
because I want to speak seriously with you."
"I am at your Excellency's orders," he answered.
"You doubtless remember," Bloodson went on, "the compact you made when I
admitted you into my cuadrilla?"
Andrés bowed his affirmative.
"I remember it," he said.
"Very good. Are you still angry with Red Cedar?"
"Not exactly with Red Cedar, Excellency; personally he never did me much
harm."
"That is true; but you still have, I suppose, the desire to avenge
yourself on Fray Ambrosio?"
A flash of hatred shot from the gambusino's eye.
"I would give my life to have his."
"Good! I like to find you feel in that way; your desire will soon be
satisfied, if you are willing."
"If I am willing, Excellency!" the ranchero exclaimed, hotly. "Canarios,
tell me what I must do for that, and, on my soul, I will do it. I assure
you I will not hesitate."
Bloodson concealed a smile of satisfaction. "Red Cedar, Fray Ambrosio,
and their comrades," he said, "are hidden a few miles from here in the
mountains; you will go there."
"I will."
"Wait a minute. You will join them in some way, gain their confidences,
and when you have obtained this necessary information, you will return
here, so that we may crush this brood of vipers."
The gambusino reflected for a moment: Bloodson fancied he was unwilling.
"What, you hesitate!" he said.
"I hesitate!" the ranchero exclaimed, shaking his head with a peculiar
smile. "No, no, Excellency, I was merely reflecting."
"What about?"
"I will tell you: the mission you give me is one of life and death. If I
fail, I know what I have to expect: Red Cedar will kill me like a dog."
"Very probably."
"He will be right in doing so, and I shall be unable to reproach him;
but, when I am dead, I do not wish that villain to escape."
"Trust to my word."
The gambusino's foxy face assumed an extraordinary expression of
cunning. "I do trust to it, Excellency," he said; "but you have very
serious business that occupies nearly all your time, and perhaps,
without desiring it, you might forget me."
"You need not fear that."
"We can answer for nothing, Excellency; there are very strange
circumstances in life."
"What do you want to arrive at? Come, explain yourself frankly."
Andrés Garote lifted his zarapé, and took from under it a little steel
box, which he placed on the table near which Bloodson was sitting.
"Here, Excellency," he said, in that soft voice which never left him;
"take that casket; so soon as I am gone break open the lock, I am
certain you will find it contains papers that will interest you."
"What do these words mean?" Bloodson asked anxiously.
"You will see," the gambusino replied, quite unmoved; "in that way, if
you forget me, you will not forget yourself, and I shall profit by your
vengeance."
"Do you know the contents of these papers, then?"
"Do you suppose, Excellency, that I have had that coffer in my
possession for six months, without discovering its contents? No, no, I
like to know what I have got. You will find it interesting, Excellency."
"But if that be the case, why did you not give me the papers sooner?"
"Because the hour had not arrived to do so, Excellency; I awaited the
opportunity that offers today. The man who wishes to avenge himself must
be patient. You know the proverb: 'Vengeance is a fruit that must be
eaten ripe.'"
While the gambusino was saying this, Bloodson kept his eyes fixed on the
casket. "Are you going?" he asked him, when he ceased speaking.
"Directly, Excellency; but if you permit it, we will make a slight
alteration in the instruction you have given me."
"Speak."
"It strikes me that, if I am obliged to return here, we shall lose
precious time in coming and going: which time Red Cedar, whose
suspicions will be aroused, may profit by to decamp."
"That is true; but what is to be done?"
"Oh, it is very simple. When the moment arrives to spread our nets, I
will light a fire on the mountain; which will serve as a signal to you
to start at once; still, there would be no harm if someone accompanied
me, and remained hidden near the spot where I am going."
"It shall be done as you wish," White Gazelle answered: "two persons
will accompany you in lieu of one."
"How so?"
"Don Pablo de Zarate and myself intend to go with you," she continued,
giving the young man a glance he understood.
"Then all is for the best," the gambusino said, "and we will start when
you like."
"At once, at once," the two young people exclaimed.
"Our horses are not tired, and can easily cover that distance," Don
Pablo remarked.
"Make haste, then, for moments are precious," said Bloodson, who burned
to be alone.
"I only crave a few moments to saddle my horse."
"Go, we will wait for you here."
The gambusino went out. The three persons remained in silence, all
equally perplexed about the casket, on which Bloodson had laid his hand
as if afraid of having it torn from him again. Very shortly, a horse was
heard galloping outside, and Garote put his head in at the door. "I am
ready," he said.
White Gazelle and Don Pablo rose. "Let us go!" they shouted as they ran
to the door.
"I wish you luck!" Bloodson said to them.
"Excellency, do not forget the coffer," the gambusino said with a grin;
"you will find the contents most interesting to you."
So soon as the ranger was alone, he rose, carefully fastened the door,
not to be disturbed in the examination he was about to make, and then
sat down again, after selecting from a small deerskin pouch some hooks
of different size. He then took the coffer, and carefully examined it
all over. There was nothing remarkable about it: it was, as we have said
elsewhere, a light casket of carved steel, made with the most exquisite
taste--a pretty toy, in a word.
In spite of his desire to know its contents, the ranger hesitated to
open it; this pretty little toy caused him an emotion for which he could
not account: he fancied he had seen it before, but he racked his brains
in vain to try and remember where. "Oh!" he said, speaking to himself in
a low hoarse voice; "Can I be approaching the consummation of the object
to which I have devoted my life?"
He fell into a profound reverie, and remained for a lengthened period
absorbed in a flood of bitter memories, that oppressed his breast. At
length he raised his head, shook back his thick hair, and passed his
hand over his forehead.
"No more hesitation," he said, hoarsely, "let me know what I have to
depend on. Something tells me that my researches will this time be
crowned with success."
He then seized one of the hooks with a trembling hand, and put it in the
lock; but his emotion was so great that he could not make the instrument
act, and he threw it angrily from him. "Am I a child, then?" he said; "I
will be calm."
He took the hook up again with a firm hand, and the casket opened.
Bloodson looked eagerly into the interior; it only contained two
letters, which time had turned yellow. At the sight of them, a livid
pallor covered the ranger's face. He evidently recognised the
handwriting at the first glance. He uttered a howl of joy, and seized
the letters, saying, in a voice that had nothing human about it:--
"Here, then, are the proofs I believed to be destroyed!" He unfolded the
paper with the most minute precautions, for fear of tearing the creases,
and began reading. Ere long, a sigh of relief burst from his overladen
bosom.
"Ah!" he uttered, "Heaven has at length delivered you to me, my masters;
we will settle our accounts."
He replaced the letters in the casket, closed it again, and carefully
hid it in his bosom.