SMOKE IN THE MOUNTAIN.
The three adventurers rapidly left Bloodson's camp, and proceeded in the
direction of the mountains, galloping silently side by side. They had a
foreboding that the finale of this terrible drama was approaching, and
involuntarily their thoughts were sad.
Man is so constituted that the feeling which has most power over him is
sadness; human organisation is formed for struggling, and joy is only an
anomaly; built to resist the hardest trials, the strongest man is
frequently the one who yields most easily to great joy; hence, strange
to say nothing more resembles happiness than sorrow; the symptoms are so
completely the same, that a great joy annihilates the faculties almost
as much as a great sorrow does.
At this moment, the three persons we are following were under the weight
of an emotion such as we have described. At the instant when they
expected the hopes they had so long entertained would be fulfilled, they
felt an emotion which completely mastered them, and for which they could
not account. They were about to play for a decisive stake. Ever since
they had been contending with this rude adversary, they had ever found
him standing in the track, returning them trick for trick, and although
cruelly wounded, constantly retaining the victory. This time luck had
turned; Heaven itself seemed to have interposed to make justice triumph,
and the bandit, driven to his last entrenchments, was expecting them to
be forced at any moment.
Still they did not conceal from themselves the difficulties of this
final struggle, in which the squatter would escape the fate reserved him
by death, unless they managed to deceive him by trickery. In such a
state of mind, we may easily suppose that they said nothing, and reached
the foot of the mountain without exchanging a syllable. Here they
stopped.
"Caballeros," the gambusino said, "before going further, we shall not do
badly, I fancy, by making some indispensable arrangements."
"What do you mean, my friend?" Don Pablo asked.
"We are going to enter regions," Andrés replied, "where our horses will
become more injurious than useful; in the mountains a footman passes
anywhere, a horseman nowhere."
"That is true; let us leave our horses here, then; the noble brutes will
not stray beyond the spot where they can find provender. When we require
them; we shall be sure to find them again, with a little search."
"Is that the señorita's opinion also?" the gambusino asked respectfully.
"Quite," she answered.
"Then let us dismount, remove saddle and bridle, and leave them to their
instinct."
They removed everything that could trouble the horses, and then drove
them away. The intelligent animals, accustomed to this, only went a few
yards, and began quietly nibbling the thick prairie grass.
"That is all right," the gambusino said; "now let us think of
ourselves."
"But the harness," White Gazelle remarked; "the moment will come when we
shall be glad to have it ready to hand."
"Perfectly true," said Andrés; "so we will put it in a safe place; for
instance, this hollow tree will form a famous storeroom."
"Caramba! that is an original idea," Don Pablo said, "and deserves being
followed."
The three saddles were placed in the tree, and so covered with dead
leaves, that it would be impossible to suspect their presence.
"Now," said White Gazelle, "let us look after a place to bivouac: the
nights are cold at this season, especially in the mountains; day is
rapidly departing, and we shall soon be in darkness."
Our three scouts had left the camp at a rather late hour: hence, while
they were unsaddling their horses, and hiding the harness, the sun had
gradually sunk down beneath the horizon: the short period of twilight
had begun, during which day finishes, and night begins, in which
darkness and light, struggling desperately together, spread over the
landscape a mixed haze, through which objects are regarded as through a
prism.
They must profit by this moment to look about them, so that they might
run no risk of losing themselves so soon as darkness had gained the
victory. They did so, therefore: after carefully noting the position of
the different peaks, they boldly set out. They walked for nearly an hour
up an ascent constantly becoming steeper, and then reached a species of
narrow platform, where they halted for a moment; in the first place to
take breath, and then to consult about their further operations.
"Suppose we sleep here?" White Gazelle said. "The perpendicular rock
behind us offers a famous shelter, from the wind, and, wrapped up in our
zarapés and buffalo robes, I feel convinced we should be quite
comfortable."
"Patience, Niña," the gambusino said, sententiously, "we must not talk
about sleeping at present."
"Why not?" she said, sharply; "for my part, I may tell you I can sleep
famously here."
"Possibly so, Niña," Andrés continued; "but we have something else to do
at present."
"What then?"
"Look about us."
"Why, you must be mad, my friend. It is as black as in an oven. The
demon himself, though so used to darkness, would tread on his tail."
"That is the very reason; let us take advantage of the moon not having
yet risen, to explore the neighbourhood."
"I do not understand you."
"See how transparent the atmosphere is; the vacillating and dubious
light of the stars is sufficient to let objects be distinguished at an
enormous distance. If the men we are pursuing, eat, which is probable,
this is just the hour they would select to cook their food."
"Well?" Don Pablo asked, curiously.
"Follow my argument closely; Red Cedar can only expect enemies from the
side of the plain."
"That is true."
"Hence his precautions are taken on that side, and not here; he does not
suspect us so near him, and, persuaded that no one is spying him, he
will let the smoke of his fire rise peacefully to the sky in the shade
of night, convinced that nobody will perceive it, which would be
perfectly true, if, unfortunately for him, we were not here. Such is the
reason why I urged you to enter the mountains, in spite of the advanced
hour."
White Gazelle and Don Pablo were struck by the correctness of this
reasoning. They began, in consequence, to form a better opinion of their
guide, and tacitly recognise in him that superiority which a man who is
thoroughly acquainted with a thing, always acquires at a given moment.
"Do as you think proper," Don Pablo said to him.
"We are quite of your opinion," the girl added.
The gambusino displayed no pride or fatuity at this acknowledgement of
the justice of his argument; he contented himself with recommending his
companions not to leave the spot where they were till his return, and
then went off.
When he was alone, instead of walking as he had hitherto done, the
gambusino lay down and began crawling slowly along the rocks, stopping
every now and then to raise his head, look around him and listen to the
thousand sounds of the desert. At the expiration of about two hours he
returned.
"Well?" Don Pablo asked him.
"Come!" the gambusino laconically answered.
They followed, and he led them by a most abrupt path, where they were
forced to crawl on their hands and knees, to escape falling over the
precipices. After a lengthened ascent, made with extraordinary
difficulty, the gambusino stood up, making his companions a sign to
follow his example. They did not let the invitation be repeated, for
they were completely worn out.
They found themselves on a platform like the one they had previously
left; this platform, like the other, was commanded by an immense rock,
but this rock had an enormous orifice like the entrance of an oven, and,
strange enough, at the end of this orifice glittered a light about the
size of a star.
"Look!" said the gambusino.
"Oh, oh! What is that?" Don Pablo asked in surprise.
"Can we have found what we are looking for?" White Gazelle exclaimed, as
she clasped her hands.
"Silence," Andrés Garote whispered, as he placed his hand on her mouth;
"we are at the entrance of a cavern, and these subterraneous passages
are excellent sound conductors; Red Cedar has a fine ear, and though he
is so far from you at this moment, you must fear his overhearing you."
They gazed for a long time at this flickering light; at times a shadow
passed before this star, and its brilliancy was eclipsed for some
minutes. The gambusino, when he judged that their curiosity was
satisfied, touched them on the arm, and led them gently away.
"Come," he said to them.
They began ascending again. At the end of about half an hour he made
them stop a second time, and stretched out his arm. "Look attentively,"
he said to them.
"Oh," Don Pablo said, at the end of a minute, "smoke."
In fact a slight jet of white smoke seemed to issue from the ground, and
rose in a thin and transparent spiral to the sky.
"There is no smoke without fire," the gambusino said, with a grin; "I
showed you the fire first, now there is the smoke. Are you convinced?
Have we found the tiger's lair?"
"Yes," they said together.
"That is better than sleeping, eh?" he went on, with a slightly
triumphant accent.
"What are we to do now?" White Gazelle quickly interrupted him.
"Oh, good gracious! A very simple thing," Andrés replied; "one of you
two will immediately return to the camp to announce our discovery, and
the master will act as he thinks proper."
"Good!" said the girl; "I will go."
"And you?" the gambusino asked Don Pablo.
"I stay here."
Garote made no objection, and White Gazelle darted down the mountain
side with feverish ardour. The gambusino laid his buffalo robe carefully
on the ground, wrapped himself in his zarapé, and lay down.
"What are you about?" Don Pablo asked him.
"You see," he replied, "I am preparing to sleep; we have nothing more to
do at present, and must wait till tomorrow to act; I advise you to
follow my example."
"That is true," the young man said; "you are right."
And, rolling himself in his zarapé, he threw himself on the ground. An
hour passed away thus, and the two men slept, or pretended to sleep.
Then Don Pablo rose softly on his elbow, and bent over Andrés Garote,
whom he attentively observed; he was sleeping the calmest possible
sleep. The young man, reassured by this, rose, examined his weapons, and
after giving the sleeper a last glance, descended the mountain.
The moon had risen and cast a light over the landscape scarce sufficient
for him to proceed without fear of falling over a precipice. The young
man, on reaching the lower platform, on to which the entrance of the
cavern opened, stopped for a moment, muttered a fervent prayer, as he
raised his eyes to the star-studded sky, and after once more examining
his weapons to feel sure they were in good condition, he crossed himself
and boldly entered the cavern.
Of a truth, he must have been gifted with ample stock of courage thus to
brave a danger which was the more terrible, because it was unknown. With
his eye fixed on the fire, which served as his polar star, Don Pablo
advanced cautiously with outstretched arms, stopping at intervals to
account for the nameless noises which constantly growl in caverns, and
ready to defend himself against the invisible foes he suspected in the
shadow.
He went on thus for a long time, the fire not appearing to grow larger,
when the granite on which he rested his left hand to guide himself
suddenly left off, and at the end of a narrow passage, dimly lighted by
an expiring torch of candlewood, he perceived Ellen kneeling on the bare
ground, and praying fervently.
The young man stopped, struck with admiration at this unexpected sight.
The maiden, with her hair untied and floating in long tresses on her
shoulders, with pallid face bathed in tears, seemed to be suffering the
greatest sorrow. Sobs and heavy sighs were escaping from her burdened
bosom.
Don Pablo could not resist the emotion that seized upon him. At this
crushing sight, forgetting all prudence, he rushed toward the maiden
with open arms, exclaiming, with an accent of supreme love: "Ellen,
Ellen, what is the matter?"
At this voice, which smote her ear so unexpectedly, the girl rose, and
said, with gestures of great majesty:
"Fly, unhappy man, fly, or you are lost!"
"Ellen," he repeated, as he fell on his knees, and clasped his hands in
entreaty, "for mercy's sake hear me!"
"What do you want here?" she continued.
"I have come to save you, or perish in the attempt."
"Save me," she cried, sadly; "no, Don Pablo, my destiny is fixed
forever. Leave me--fly--I implore you."
"No. I tell you a terrible danger impends over your father. He is
hopelessly lost. Come, fly; there is yet time. Oh, Ellen, I implore you,
in the name of our love--so chaste and pure, follow me!"
The maiden shook her head with a movement that set her long, fair
tresses waving.
"I am condemned, I tell you, Don Pablo; remaining longer here will be
your destruction. You say you love me--well, in the name of your love,
or, if you insist, of mine, I implore you to leave me, to shun me
forever. Oh, believe me, Don Pablo, my touch brings death. I am an
accursed creature."
The young man folded his arms on his chest, and raised his head proudly.
"No," he said resolutely, "I will not go, I do not wish for the devotion
to be yours solely. What do I care for life if I may never see you
again? Ellen, we will die together."
"Oh, Heavens, how he loves me!" she exclaimed, in despair. "Oh, Lord!
Lord! Have I suffered enough? Is the measure now full? Oh, Lord! Give me
the strength to accomplish my sacrifice to the end. Listen, Don Pablo,"
she said to him, as she caught hold of his arm fiercely, "my father is
an outlaw, the whole world rejects him; he has only one joy, one
happiness in his immense suffering--his daughter. I cannot, I will not
abandon him. Whatever love I may feel for you in my heart, Don Pablo, I
will never leave my father. No, all is said between us, my love;
remaining here longer would be uselessly braving a terrible and
inevitable danger. Go, Don Pablo, go--it must be so."
"Remember," the young man said with a groan, "remember, Ellen, that this
interview will be the last."
"I know it."
"You still wish me to go?"
"I insist on it."
"Yes, but I do not wish it," a rough voice suddenly said.
They turned in terror, and perceived Red Cedar looking at them with a
grin, as he leant on his rifle. Ellen gave her father such a flashing
glance, that the old squatter involuntarily looked down without
replying. She turned to Don Pablo, and took his hand. "Come," she said
to him. She walked resolutely toward her father, who did not stir. "Make
way," she said boldly.
"No," the trapper answered.
"Pay attention to me, father," she continued; "I have sacrificed for you
my life, my happiness, all my hopes on this earth, but on one condition
that his life shall be sacred. Let him go, then; I insist on it."
"No," he said again, "he must die."
Ellen burst into a wild laugh, whose shrill notes made the two men
shudder. With a movement swift as thought, she tore a pistol from the
squatter's belt, cocked it, and put the muzzle to her forehead. "Make
way!" she repeated.
Red Cedar uttered a yell of terror. "Stop!" he shouted, as he rushed
toward her.
"For the last time, make way, or I kill myself!"
"Oh!" he said with an expression of rage impossible to endure, "Go,
demon, but I shall find you again."
"Farewell, my beloved!" Ellen cried passionately; "farewell for the last
time!"
"Ellen," the young man answered, "we shall meet again; I will save you
in spite of yourself."
And rushing down the passage, he disappeared.
"And now, father," the maiden said, throwing the pistol far from her,
when the sound of her lover's footsteps died away in the distance, "do
with me what you please."
"I pardon you, child," Red Cedar replied gnashing his teeth, "but I will
kill him."