THE BOAR AT BAY.
Don Pablo ran out of the cavern and joined Andrés Garote hastily, who
still slept. The young man had some difficulty in waking him, but at
length he opened his eyes, sat up, and yawned; but perceiving the stars
still shining, he said ill-humouredly: "What fly has stung you? Let me
sleep--day is still far off."
"I know that better than you, for I have not lain down."
"Then, you were wrong," the other said, yawning fit to dislocate his
jaw; "I am going to sleep, so good night."
And he tried to lie down again, but the young man prevented him. "A
pretty time for sleeping," he said as he dragged away the other's
zarapé; in which he tried in vain to wrap himself.
"Why, you must be mad to annoy me so," he said furiously; "has anything
fresh happened?"
Don Pablo told him what he had done; the gambusino listened with the
most profound attention, and when he had finished scratched his head
with embarrassment as he said, "_Demonios!_ that is serious--excessively
serious; all lovers are madmen. You have spoiled our expedition."
"Do you think so?"
"Canelo! I am sure of it; Red Cedar is an old scoundrel, as cunning as
an opossum. Now that he is put on his guard, it will take a clever
fellow to catch him."
Don Pablo looked at him in consternation.
"What is to be done?" he said.
"Be off, that is the safest; you can understand that the squatter is now
on his guard?"
There was rather a lengthened silence between the two speakers.
"Well!" the gambusino said, suddenly, "I will not be beat. I will play
the old demon a trick after my fashion."
"What is your plan?"
"That is my business. If you had placed greater confidence in me, all
this would not have happened, and we should have settled matters, to the
general satisfaction. Well, what is done cannot be undone, and I will
try to repair your fault, so now be off."
"Off--where to?"
"To the foot of the mountain; but do not come up again unless your
comrades are with you. You will act as their guide to this spot."
"But you?"
"Don't trouble yourself about me. Good-bye."
"Well," the young man said, "I leave you at liberty to act as you think
proper."
"You ought to have formed that resolution sooner. Ah, by the way, just
leave me your hat."
"With great pleasure; but you have one."
"Perhaps I want another. Ah! one word more."
"Speak."
"If by any chance you should hear a noise--shots fired, say--as you are
going down the mountain, do not alarm yourself, or come up again."
"Good--that is agreed; so good-bye."
After tossing his hat to the gambusino, the young man put his rifle on
his shoulder, and began descending the mountain: he speedily disappeared
in the countless windings of the path. So soon as Andrés Garote was
alone, he picked up Don Pablo's hat and threw it over the precipice,
eagerly watching its descent. After turning over and over, the hat
touched a peak, rebounded, and at length rested on the mountainside a
great distance beneath.
"Good," the gambusino said with satisfaction, "that is all right; now
for the rest."
Andrés Garote then sat down on the ground, took his rifle, and
discharged it in the air; immediately, drawing one of his pistols from
his belt, he stretched out his left arm and pulled the trigger; the ball
went right through the fleshy part. "Caramba!" he said, as he fell all
his length on the ground, "that pains more than I fancied; but no
matter; the great point is to succeed, so now to await the result."
Nearly a quarter of an hour elapsed and nothing disturbed the silence of
the desert. Andrés, still stretched at full length, was groaning in a
way that would move the heart of the rocks. At length a slight noise was
heard a short distance off.
"Halloh!" the gambusino muttered, cunningly watching what had happened,
"I fancy there's a bite."
"Who the deuce have we here?" a rough voice said; "Go and see, Sutter."
Andrés Garote opened his eyes and recognised Red Cedar, and his son.
"Ah!" he said in a hollow voice, "Is that you, old squatter? Where the
deuce do you come from? If I expected anybody, it was certainly not you,
though I am delighted with you."
"I know that voice," exclaimed Red Cedar.
"It is Andrés Garote, the gambusino," Sutter replied.
"Yes, it is I, my good Sutter," the Mexican said. "Oh! oh! How I
suffer!"
"What's the matter with you, and how did you come here?"
"You're all right, I see," the other replied savagely. "Cuerpo de
Cristo! Things have gone with me from bad to worse since I left my
rancho to come in this accursed prairie."
"Will you answer yes or no?" Red Cedar said angrily, dashing his rifle
butt on the ground, and giving him a suspicious glance.
"Well, I am wounded, that, is easy to see; I have a bullet in my arm,
and am all over bruises. Santa Maria, how I suffer! But no matter, the
brigand who attacked me will never injure anybody again."
"Have you killed him?" the squatter asked eagerly.
"I did my best; look over the precipice--you will see his body."
Sutter bent over. "I see a hat," he said directly after; "the body
cannot be far."
"Unless it has rolled to the bottom of the barranca."
"That is probable," Sutter remarked, "for the rock is almost
perpendicular."
"Oh, demonios! Nuestra Señora! How I suffer!" the gambusino groaned.
The squatter had in his turn leant over the precipice; he recognised Don
Pablo's hat; he gave a sign of satisfaction, and returned to Andrés.
"Come," he said in a gentle tone, "we cannot stop here all night; can
you walk?"
"I do not know, but I will try."
"Try, then, in the demon's name."
The gambusino rose with infinite difficulty and tried to walk a little
way, but fell back. "I cannot," he said despondingly.
"Nonsense!" said Sutter; "I will take him on my back, he is not very
heavy."
"Look sharp, then."
The young man stooped, took the gambusino in his arms, and laid him
across his shoulders as easily as if he had been a child. Ten minutes
later Andrés Garote was in the cavern lying before the fire, and Fray
Ambrosio was bandaging up his arm.
"Well, gossip," the monk said, "you have been very cleverly wounded."
"Why so?" the Mexican asked in alarm.
"Why, a wound in the left arm will not prevent your firing a shot with
us in case of an alarm."
"I will do so, you may be sure," he replied, with a singular accent.
"With all that, you have not told me by what chance you were on the
mountain," Red Cedar remarked.
"It was simple; since the destruction and dispersion of our poor
cuadrilla, I have been wandering about in every direction like a
masterless dog; hunted by the Indians to take my scalp, pursued by the
whites to be hanged, as forming part of Red Cedar's band, I did not know
where to find shelter. About three days back chance brought me to this
sierra; tonight, at the moment I was going to sleep, after eating a
mouthful, a fellow whom the darkness prevented me recognising, suddenly
threw himself on me; you know the rest--but no matter, I settled his
little score."
"Good, good," Red Cedar quickly interrupted him, "keep that to yourself;
now, good night, you must need rest; so sleep, if you can."
The gambusino's stratagem was too simple and at the same time too
cleverly carried out, not to succeed. No one can suppose that an
individual would voluntarily, give himself a serious wound, and any
suspicions on Red Cedar's part were entirely dissipated by the sight of
Don Pablo's hat. How could he suppose that two men of such different
character and position should be working together? Anything was credible
but that. Hence the bandits, who recognised in Garote one of themselves,
did not at all distrust him.
The worthy ranchero, delighted at having got into the lion's den, almost
certain of the success of his scheme, and too accustomed to wounds to
care much about the one he had given himself with such praiseworthy
dexterity, began again the slumber Don Pablo had so roughly interrupted
and slept till daybreak. When he awoke, Fray Ambrosio was by his side,
preparing the morning meal.
"Well," the monk asked him, "how do you feel now?"
"Much better than I should have fancied," he answered; "sleep has done
me good."
"Let me look at your wound, gossip."
Andrés held out his arm, which the monk bandaged afresh, and the two men
went on talking like friends delighted at meeting again after a
lengthened separation. All at once Red Cedar hurried up, rifle in hand.
"Look out!" he shouted, "Here is the enemy."
"The enemy!" the gambusino said, "Canelo, where is my rifle? If I cannot
stand, I will fire sitting down: it shall not be said that I did not
help my friends in their trouble."
Sutter now ran up from the other side, shouting:
"Look out!"
This strange coincidence of two attacks made from opposite sides
rendered Red Cedar thoughtful. "We are betrayed," he shouted.
"By whom?" the gambusino impudently asked.
"By you, perhaps," the squatter answered furiously.
Andrés began laughing.
"You are mad, Red Cedar," he said: "danger has made you lose your head.
You know very well that I have not stirred from here."
The reasoning was unanswerable.
"And yet, I would swear that one of us has been the traitor," the
squatter continued passionately.
"Instead of recriminating as you are doing," Andrés said, with an accent
of wounded dignity, perfectly played, "you would do better to fly. You
are too old a fox to have only one hole to your earth--all the issues
cannot be occupied, hang it all: while you are escaping, I, who cannot
walk, will cover the retreat, and you will thus see whether I was the
traitor."
"You will do that?"
"I will."
"Then you are a man, and I restore you my friendship."
At this moment the war yell of the Comanches burst forth at one of the
entrances, while at the opposite could be heard: "Bloodson! Bloodson!"
"Make haste, make haste!" the gambusino shouted, as he boldly seized the
rifle lying at his side.
"Oh, they have not got me yet," Red Cedar replied, as he seized his
daughter in his powerful arms, who had run up at the first alarm, and
was now pressing timorously to his side. The three bandits then
disappeared in the depths of the cave. Andrés leaped up as if worked by
a spring, and rushed in pursuit of them, followed by twenty Comanche and
Apache warriors who had joined him, at whose head were Unicorn, Black
Cat, and Spider.
They soon heard the sound of firing re-echoed by the walls of the
cavern: the fight had begun.
Red Cedar had found himself face to face with Valentine and his
comrades, while trying to fly by an outlet he did not suppose guarded.
He fell back hurriedly, but he had been seen, and the firing immediately
begun. A terrible combat was about to take place beneath the gloomy
avenues of this vast cavern. These implacable enemies, at last face to
face, had no mercy to expect from each other. Still Red Cedar did not
despond; while replying vigorously to the shots of their adversaries, he
incessantly looked round him to discover a fresh outlet.
The perfect darkness that reigned in the cavern aided the bandits, who,
owing to their small numbers, sheltered themselves behind rocks, and
thus avoided the bullets, while their shots, fired into the compact mass
of enemies pressing round them, scarcely ever missed their mark.
All once the squatter uttered a triumphant yell, and, followed by his
comrades, disappeared as if by enchantment. The Indians and rangers then
dispersed in pursuit of the bandits, but they had vanished and left no
sign.
"We shall never find them in this way," Valentine shouted, "and we run a
risk of hitting friends; some of the warriors will be detached to cut us
torches, while we guard all the outlets."
"It is unnecessary," Curumilla said, coming up, loaded with candlewood.
In a second, the cavern was brilliantly lit up, and then the side
passage by which Red Cedar had escaped became visible to the astonished
Comanches, who had passed it twenty times without seeing it. They rushed
in with a yell but there came a discharge, and three of them fell
mortally wounded. The passage was low, narrow, and ascending; it formed
a species of staircase. It was, in truth, a formidable position, for
four men could with difficulty advance together.
Ten times the Comanches returned to the charge, ten times they were
forced to fall back; the dead and wounded were heaped up in the cave,
and the position was becoming critical.
"Halt!" Valentine shouted.
All were motionless, and then the white men and principal chiefs held a
council; Curumilla had left the cave with a dozen warriors whom he had
made a sign to follow him. As happens unfortunately only too often in
precarious circumstances, everybody gave a different opinion, and it was
impossible to come to an understanding; at this moment Curumilla
appeared, followed by the warriors loaded like himself with leaves and
dry wood.
"Wait a moment," Valentine said, pointing to the chief; "Curumilla has
had the only sensible idea."
The others did not understand yet.
"Come, my lads," the hunter cried, "a final attack."
The Comanches rushed furiously into the passage, but a fresh discharge
compelled them again to retire.
"Enough!" the Trail-hunter commanded, "that is what I wanted to know."
They obeyed, and Valentine then turned to the chief who accompanied him.
"It is plain," he said, "that this passage has no outlet; in the first
moment of precipitation Red Cedar did not perceive this, else he would
not have entered it; had it an outlet, the bandits, instead of
remaining, would have profited by the momentary respite we granted them
to escape."
"That is true," the chiefs answered.
"What I tell you at this moment, Curumilla guessed long ago; the proof
is that he has discovered the only way to make the demons surrender,
smoking them out." Enthusiastic shouts greeted these words.
"Warriors," Valentine went on, "throw into that cave all the wood and
leaves you can; when there is a large pile, we will set light to it."
Red Cedar and his comrades probably guessing their enemy's intention,
tried to prevent it by keeping up an incessant fire, but the Indians,
rendered prudent by experience, placed themselves so as to escape the
bullets, which hit nobody. The entrance of the passage was soon almost
blocked up with inflammable matter of every description. Valentine
seized a lighted torch, but before setting fire to the pile he made a
sign to command silence, and addressed the besieged:
"Red Cedar," he shouted, "we are going to smoke you out, will you
surrender"?
"Go to the devil, accursed Frenchman," the squatter replied.
And three shots served as peroration to this energetic answer.
"Attention now! For when these demons feel themselves broiling, they
will make a desperate effort," Valentine said.
He threw the torch into the pile, the fire at once began crackling, and
a dense cloud of smoke and flame formed a curtain before the passage. In
the meanwhile, all held in readiness to repulse the sortie of the
besieged, for the Indians knew that the collision would be rude. They
had not to wait long, ere they saw three devils burst through the flames
and rushed headlong upon them.
A frightful medley took place in the narrow corridor, which lasted some
minutes. Don Pablo, on perceiving Red Cedar, rushed upon him, and in
spite of the bandit's resistance, seized Ellen, and bore her away in his
arms. The squatter roared like a tiger, felling all who came within his
reach. For their part, Sutter and Fray Ambrosio, fought with the courage
and resolution of men who knew that they were about to die.
But this desperate struggle of three against several hundred could not
last long; in spite of all their efforts they were at length lassoed,
and securely bound.
"Kill me, villains," Red Cedar howled in despair.
Bloodson walked up to him, and touched his shoulder.
"You will be tried by Lynch Law, Red Cedar," he said to him.
At the sight of the ranger the squatter made a terrible effort to burst
his bonds, and rush upon him; but he did not succeed, and fell back on
the ground, which he bit at wildly, and foaming with rage. When the
fight was over, Valentine hurried from the cavern to breathe a little
fresh air. Sunbeam was waiting for him. "Koutonepi," she said to him,
"Seraphin, the Father of Prayer, has sent me to you--your mother is
dying."
"My mother!" the hunter exclaimed in despair. "Oh, God! What shall I do
to reach her?"
"Curumilla is warned," she answered; "he is waiting for you at the foot
of the mountains, with two horses."
The hunter rushed down the path like a madman.