THE FLIGHT.
The night covered the tranquil desert with its dark blue sky, studded
with dazzling stars. A majestic silence brooded over the prairie; all
were asleep in the island save the two Canadian sentries, who, leaning
on their rifles, followed with absent eye the tall shadows of the wild
beasts that slowly came down to drink in the river.
At times a mysterious quiver ran over the trees, and shook their tufted
crests, whose leaves rustled with a strange sound.
Dick and Harry, the two worthy hunters, interchanged a few words in a
low voice to while away the tedium of their long sentry go, to which
they were condemned, when suddenly a white shadow glided through the
trees, and Ellen stood by their side.
The young men started on seeing her; but the maiden greeted them with a
smile, sat down on the grass, and with a graceful gesture made them a
sign to seat themselves by her side. They hastened to obey her.
The hunters looked at the maiden, who smiled on them with that infantile
grace which no expression can render.
"You were talking when I came up."
"Yes," Harry answered, "we were talking of you."
"Of me?" she said.
"Was it not for your sake alone that we joined this troop of bandits?"
Dick said, in an ill-humoured tone.
"Do you regret being here?" she asked, with a soft smile.
"I did not say that," the young man continued; "but we are not in our
place among these villains. We are free and loyal hunters, honourable
wood rangers; the life we lead oppresses us."
"Were you not talking of that when my presence interrupted you?"
They remained silent.
"Answer boldly!" she went on.
"Good heavens! You know that such a life is as oppressive to me as it
is to you."
"What do I know?" Harry said. "Many times I have proposed to you to fly,
and leave these men whose hands are constantly polluted with blood, but
you have ever refused."
"That is true," she said sadly; "alas! Although these men are criminal,
one of them is my father."
"For two years that we have been following you everywhere, you have
given us the same answer."
"It was because I hoped that my father and brother would abandon this
career of crime."
"And now?"
"I have no hope left."
"In that case?" Harry exclaimed sharply.
"I am ready to follow you," she answered, sharply.
"Is that the truth? Is it your heart that is speaking, Ellen? Do you
really consent to abandon your family and trust to our honour?"
"Listen," she answered, sorrowfully; "for two years I have thought
deeply, and the more I reflect the more does it appear to me that Red
Cedar is not my father."
"Can it be possible?" the hunter exclaimed, in amazement.
"I can say nothing certain; but when I go back I fancy (though this is
vague and surrounded by shadows in my mind) I can remember another
existence, very different from the one I am leading at present."
"You can remember nothing positive?"
"Nothing: I see pass, as in a vision, a lovely pale lady, a man with a
proud glance, and of tall stature, who takes me in his arms, and covers
me with kisses, and then--"
"Well, and then?" the hunters exclaimed, in a panting voice.
"And then I see flames, blood, and nothing more, but a man carrying me
off through the night on an impetuous steed."
The maiden, after uttering these words in a broken voice, hid her head
in her hands. There was a lengthened silence, during which the Canadians
attentively observed her: at length they drew themselves up, and Harry
laid his hand on her shoulder: she raised her head.
"What would you of me?" she said.
"Ask you a question."
"Speak!"
"Since you have grown up have you never tried to clear up your doubts by
questioning Red Cedar?"
"Yes," she answered, "once."
"Well?"
"He listened to me attentively, let me say all I had to say, and then
gave me a glance of undefinable meaning, shrugged his shoulders, and
answered, 'You are silly, Ellen; you must have had a bad dream. That
story is absurd.' Then he added, in an ironical voice, 'I feel sorry for
you, poor creature, but you are really my daughter.'"
"Well," Dick said, in a tone of conviction, as he struck the butt of his
rifle fiercely on the ground, "I tell you that he lied, and that man is
not your father."
"Doves do not lay their eggs in the nests of vultures," Harry added.
"No, Ellen, no, you are not that man's daughter."
The maiden rose, seized each of the hunters by the arm, and, after
looking at them for a moment, said:
"Well, and I believe so too. I know not why, but for some days past a
secret voice has cried in my heart and told me that this man cannot be
my father; that is why I, who, up to this day, have always refused your
offers, have come to trust myself to your honour, and ask you if you will
protect my flight."
"Ellen," Harry answered in a grave voice, and with an accent full of
respect, "I swear to you before that God who hears us, that my companion
and myself will risk death to protect or defend. You shall always be a
sister to us, and in that desert we are about to traverse in order to
reach civilised countries, you shall be as safe and treated with as much
respect as if you were in Quebec Cathedral, at the foot of the high
altar."
"I swear that I will do all Harry has just said; and that you can, in
all confidence, place yourself under the safeguard of our honour," Dick
added, raising his right hand to Heaven.
"Thanks, my friends," the maiden answered. "I know your honour. I accept
without reservation, persuaded as I am that you will fulfil your
promise."
The two men bowed.
"When shall we start?" Harry asked.
"It will be better to take advantage of Red Cedar's absence to fly,"
said Dick.
"That thought is mine, too," Ellen remarked, but added, with some
hesitation, "I should not like to fly alone."
"Explain yourself," Dick said.
"It is needless," Harry quickly interrupted him. "I know what you
desire. Your thought is an excellent one, Ellen, and we gladly assent to
it. The young Mexican lady can accompany you. If it be possible for us
to restore her to her family, who must feel in despair about her, we
will do it."
Ellen gave the young man a look, and slightly blushed.
"You are a noble-hearted fellow, Harry," she replied. "I thank you for
having guessed what I did not know how to ask of you."
"Is there anything else you want of us?"
"No."
"Good! Then bring your companion here as speedily as possible, and, when
you return, we shall be ready. The gambusinos are asleep. Red Cedar is
absent. We have nought to fear, but you had better make haste, so that
before sunrise we may be far enough from here not to fear those who will
doubtless pursue us when they observe your flight."
"I only ask you for a few minutes," the maiden said, and soon
disappeared in the shrubs.
In vain had Doña Clara sought sleep, in obedience to her friend's
recommendations. Her mind, agitated by hopes and fears, had not allowed
her to enjoy a moment's rest. With eye and ear on the watch, she
listened to the voices of the night, and strove to distinguish, in the
gloom, the shadows that at times glided through the trees.
Ellen found her awake, and ready to start. The maidens' preparations for
flight were not lengthy, for they only took with them a few
indispensable articles.
In rummaging an old box, which Red Cedar and his family employed to keep
their clothes in, Ellen discovered a small coffer, about the size of her
hand, of carved rosewood, inlaid with silver, which the squatter hardly
ever left out of his possession, but which he had not thought it
necessary to take with him on the present expedition.
The maiden examined this coffer for a moment, but it was closed. By an
intuitive movement, for which she could not account, but which
completely mastered her, she seized it, and put it in her bosom.
"Let us go," she said to Doña Clara.
"I am ready," the young Mexican replied, laconically, though her heart
bounded.
The maidens left the hut, holding each other's hand. They crossed the
clearing, and proceeded in the direction of the Canadians. The
gambusinos lying ground the fire did not stir. They were all fast
asleep.
For their part, the two hunters had made their preparations for flight.
While Dick fetched out to the riverside the four sturdiest horses he
could find, Harry collected the saddles and bridles of the other horses,
and threw them into the river, where they immediately disappeared in the
current. The Canadian had reflected that the time the gambusinos would
occupy in making up their loss would be so much gained to them.
The maidens reached the riverbank at the moment when Dick and Harry were
finishing saddling the horses. They mounted at once, the Canadians
placed themselves at their side, and the fugitives forced their horses
into the river. Fortunately, the water was low; and hence, although the
current was rather powerful in the centre, the horses managed to cross
the Gila without obstacle.
It was about eleven in the evening when the fugitives landed. So soon
as they were concealed in the tall grass, so as not to be seen from the
island, they drew bridle to let their horses breathe after the rude
passage they had just made.
"Let us profit by the hours we have before us to travel the whole
night," Harry said, in a low voice.
"Our absence will not be observed till sunrise," Dick observed. "The
time spent in seeking us on the island, and in providing some substitute
for the bridles, will give us twelve or fourteen hours which we must
profit by to get away as far as possible."
"I ask nothing better," Harry said; "but, before starting, we must
choose our road."
"Oh!" Ellen said, "the direction we must follow is easily settled: we
must only go straight to the northwest."
"Be it so," the hunter went on; "one direction is as good as another.
Our principal object is to get off as soon as possible: but why
northwest rather than any other quarter of the wind?"
Ellen smiled.
"Because," she said, "a friend you know--the Indian chief who formed
part of the band--left the camp before us, in order to warn his
warriors, and bring us help in the event of an attack."
"Well thought of," the hunter said. "Let us be off, and not spare our
horses, for on their speed our safety depends."
Each bowed over the neck of the horses. The little party started with
the speed of an arrow in a northwestern direction, as had been agreed
on. The four riders soon disappeared in the darkness; the footsteps of
their horses ceased to re-echo on the hardened ground, and all fell back
into silence.
The gambusinos were peacefully sleeping on the island.