THE PROPOSITION.
Red Cedar, immediately that he entered the Far West, had, with the
experience of old wood rangers which he possessed in the highest degree,
chosen a suitable site for his band to encamp. He did not wish to enter
the desert without ensuring allies on whom he could count, in the event
of his being attacked.
The Pawnee ambuscade, prepared with the skill characteristic of the
savages, which had been on the point of succeeding, and from which he
had only escaped by accident, was a warning to him of the snares that
would be laid for him, and the dangers that would menace him at every
step daring the long journey he was about to undertake across the
prairies.
Red Cedar was one of those men who make it a principle to neglect
nothing that can insure the success of their plans; he, therefore,
resolved to protect himself from any attack as speedily as possible. His
first care was to choose a spot where he could encamp his band, so as to
be protected from all Indian marauders, and offer an advantageous
resistance, in the case of a serious attack.
The Rio Gila forms a multitude of wooded islets, some of which rising
in a conical form, are very difficult of access owing to the escarpment
of their banks, and especially through the rapidity of the current.
It was on one of these islands that Red Cedar bivouacked his men.
Peru trees, mezquites, and cottonwood trees, which grew abundantly on
this island, mingled with creepers that twined round their stems in
inextricable confusion, formed an impenetrable thicket, behind which
they could boldly sustain a siege, while offering the immense advantage
of forming a wall of verdure, through whose openings it was easy to
watch both banks of the river, and any suspicious movements on the
prairie.
So soon as the gambusinos had landed on the island, they glided like
serpents into the interior, dragging their horses after them, and being
careful to do nothing that might reveal their encampment to the
sharp-sighted Indians. So soon as the camp was established, and Red
Cedar believed that, temporarily at least, his band was in safety, he
assembled the principal leaders, in order to communicate his intentions
to them.
They were, first, Fray Ambrosio, then Andrés Garote, Harry and Dick, the
two Canadian hunters, and, lastly, the squatter's two sons, Nathan and
Sutter, and the Chief of the Coras. Several trees had been felled to
form a suitable site for the fires and the tents of the women, and Red
Cedar, mounted on his steed, was soon in the centre of the chiefs
collected around him.
"Señores," he said to them, "we have at length entered the Far West: our
expedition now really commences, and I count on your courage, and, above
all, your experience, to carry it out successfully; but prudence demands
that on the prairies, where we run the risk of being attacked by enemies
of every description at any moment, we should secure allies who, in case
of need, could protect us efficiently. The ambuscade we escaped, scarce
eight and forty hours ago, renders it a duty to redouble our vigilance,
and, above all, hasten to enter into communication with the friends we
possess in the desert."
"Yes," said the monk; "but I do not know these friends."
"But I know them, and that is enough," Red Cedar replied.
"Very good," Fray Ambrosio went on; "but where are they to be found?"
"I know where to find them. You are here in an excellent position, where
you can hold your own for a long time, without any fear of it being
carried. This is what I have resolved on."
"Come, gossip, explain yourself; I am anxious to know your plans," said
the monk.
"You shall be satisfied: I am going to start at once in search of my
friends, whom I am certain of finding within a few hours: you will not
stir from here till my return."
"Hum! And will you be long absent?"
"Two days, then, at the most."
"That is a long time," Garote remarked.
"During that period you will conceal your presence as far as possible.
Let no one suspect you are encamped here. I will bring you the ten best
rifles in the Far West, and with their protection, and that of Stanapat,
the great Apache Chief of the Buffalo tribe, whom I expect to see also,
we can traverse the desert in perfect safety."
"But who will command the band in your absence?" Fray Ambrosio asked.
"You, and these caballeros. But remember this: you will under no pretext
leave the island."
"'Tis enough, Red Cedar, you can start; we shall not stir till you
return."
After a few more words of slight importance, Red Cedar left the
clearing, swam his horse over the river, and on reaching firm ground,
buried himself in the tall grass, where he soon disappeared.
It was about six in the evening, when the squatter left his comrades, to
go in search of the men whom he hoped to make his allies. The gambusinos
had paid but slight attention to the departure of their chief, the cause
of which they were ignorant of, and which they supposed would not last
long. The night had completely fallen. The gambusinos, wearied by a long
journey, were sleeping, wrapped in their zarapés, round the fire, while
two sentries alone watched over the common safety. They were Dick and
Harry, the two Canadian hunters, whom chance had so untowardly brought
among these bandits.
Three men leaning against the trunk of an enormous ungquito were
conversing in a low voice. They were Andrés Garote, Fray Ambrosio, and
Eagle-wing. A few paces from them was the leafy cabin, beneath whose
precarious shelter reposed the squatter's wife, her daughter Ellen, and
Doña Clara.
The three men, absorbed in the conversation, did not notice a white
shadow emerge from the cabin, glide silently along, and lean against the
very tree, at the foot of which they were.
Eagle-wing, with that penetration which distinguishes the Indians, had
read the hatred which existed between Fray Ambrosio and Red Cedar; but
the Coras had kept this discovery in his heart, intending to take
advantage of it when the opportunity presented itself.
"Chief," the monk said, "do you suspect who the allies are Red Cedar has
gone to seek?"
"No," the other replied, "how should I know?"
"Still it must interest you, for you are not so great a friend of the
Gringo as you would like to appear."
"The Indians have a very dense mind; let my father explain himself so
that I may understand him, and be able to answer him."
"Listen," the monk continued, in a dry voice and with a sharp accent, "I
know who you are: your disguise, clever and exact though it be, was not
sufficient to deceive me: at the first glance I recognised you. Do you
believe that if I had said to Red Cedar, this man is a spy or a traitor;
he has crept among us to make us tall into a trap prepared long
beforehand: in a word, this man is no other than Moukapec, the
principal Cacique of the Coras? Do you believe, I say, that Red Cedar
would have hesitated to blow out your brains, eh, chief? Answer."
During these words whose significance was terrible to him, the Coras had
remained unmoved; not a muscle of his face had quivered. When the monk
ceased speaking, he smiled disdainfully, and contented himself with
replying in a haughty voice, while looking at him fixedly:
"Why did not my father tell this to the scalp hunter? He was wrong."
The monk was discountenanced by this reply, which he was far from
expecting; he understood that he had before him one of those energetic
natures over which threats have no power. Still he had advanced too far
to draw back: he resolved to go on to the end, whatever might happen.
"Perhaps," he said, with an evil smile, "at any rate, I have it in my
power to warn our chief in his return."
"My father will act as he thinks proper," the chief replied drily,
"Moukapec is a renowned warrior, the barking of the coyotes never
terrified him."
"Come, come, Indian, you are wrong," Garote interposed, "you are
mistaken as to the Padre's intentions with respect to you; I am
perfectly convinced that he does not wish to injure you in any way."
"Moukapec is not an old woman who can be cheated with words," the Coras
said; "he cares little for the present intentions of the man, who,
during the burning of his village, and the massacre of his brothers,
excited his enemies to murder and arson. The chief follows his vengeance
alone, he will know how to attain it without allying himself to one of
his foes to get it. I have spoken."
After uttering these words, the Indian chief rose, dressed himself in
his buffalo robe, and withdrew, leaving the two Mexicans disconcerted by
this resistance which they were far from anticipating. Both looked after
him for a while with admiration mingled with anger.
"Hum!" the monk at length muttered; "Dog of a savage, Indian, brute,
beast, he shall pay me for it."
"Take care, señor Padre," the Gambusino said, "we are not in luck at
this moment. Let us leave this man with whom we can effect nothing, and
seek something else. Every man reaches his point who knows how to wait,
and the moment will arrive to avenge ourselves on him; till then, let us
dissimulate--that is the best thing, I believe, for us to do."
"Did you notice that, on leaving us, Red Cedar did not say a syllable
about his prisoner?"
"For what good? He knows she is in perfect safety here, any flight from
this island is impossible."
"That is true; but why did he carry off this woman?"
"Who knows? Red Cedar is one of those men whose thoughts it is always
dangerous to sound. Up to the present, we cannot read his conduct
clearly enough; let him return, perhaps then the object he has in view
will be unfolded to us."
"That woman annoys me here," the monk said in a hollow voice.
"What's to be done? Down there at Santa Fe I did not hesitate to serve
you in trying to get rid of her; but now it is too late--it would be
madness to dream of it. What matter to us, after all, whether she be
with us, or not? Believe me, make up your mind to it, and speak no more
about it. Bah! She will not prevent us reaching the placer."
The monk shook his head with a dissatisfied air, but made no reply. The
Gambusino wrapped himself in his zarapé, lay down on the ground, and
fell asleep. Fray Ambrosio, for his part, remained plunged in gloomy
thoughts. What was he thinking of? Some treachery, doubtless.
When the woman who had been leaning against the tree, perceived that the
conversation was at an end, she glided softly away, and re-entered the
cabin.