THE GREAT MEDICINE.
Before going further we will give some indispensable information
respecting the Pueblos Indians, who are destined to play a great part in
this story, which, we believe, through its novelty, will interest the
reader.
These Indians hold the centre between the redskins of North America, and
that race of Toltecs, on whom were grafted all the branches whose
amalgamation composes the great indigenous nation of Mexico. Though
living chiefly by trade and agriculture, they have not resigned all
their warlike tastes.
The Pueblos are established all along the northern line of Mexico, the
principal tribes being the Navajos, Apaches, Yutas, Caignas, and
Comanches. The Apaches differ a little from the redskins properly so
called, with whom they have a common character, however; and so do the
Comanches.
The latter tribe is the most redoubtable in the desert, and calls itself
proudly the Queen of the Prairies. The Comanches alone of all the
Indians have managed to shield themselves from a taste for strong
liquors, which are so pernicious to the red race. The Comanches possess
a haughty and independent character, as the reader will be enabled to
judge in the progress of our story. We will only mention here one of
their customs, which will be sufficient to let them be appreciated at
their full value.
Polygamy is allowed among the Comanches; each chief has six, eight or
ten wives; but, among this people a marriage is arranged neither by soft
words nor presents; the Comanche warrior reaches a surer and more solemn
pledge. This is how he acts:
So soon as he fancies himself beloved by a woman, he kills one of his
horses, plucks out its heart, and nails it all bleeding to the door of
the girl he is courting. She takes it down, roasts it, and then divides
it equally, giving one half to her lover, eating the other herself, and
the marriage is concluded.
Up to the present, none have been able to enslave this nation, which is
the terror of all the Mexican frontiers. After this explanation, we will
go on with our story.
Doña Clara was aroused at an early hour by the sound of the chichikouis
and other Indian instruments, with which was incessantly mingled the
barking of the countless pack of dogs that always accompanies the
redskins. At sunrise Black Cat entered the prisoner's cabin, and, after
bowing to her, told her in his honeyed voice, while gazing eagerly at
her, that he was about to make the great medicine of the Bah-oh-akan-es,
in order to obtain from the Master of Life the surrender of his enemy
into his hands; and that if, instead of remaining alone with her grief,
she desired to witness the ceremony, she could follow him.
The young Mexican, not wishing the chief to notice the delight she
experienced at this proposal, appeared to submit, and not to accept his
offer.
The whole population of the village was astir, the women and children
running in all directions, uttering deafening yells. Even the warriors
and old men seemed to have forgotten the Indian stoicism. In a few
minutes the village was deserted, so eager were all to proceed to a vast
plain running along the banks of the Gila, where the great medicine
talisman was to be accomplished.
Black Cat, cunning as he was, was deceived by the apparent weakness of
his prisoner, and her feigned despondency. After giving her a piercing
glance to assure himself that she was not playing with him, he made her
a sign to leave the hut and mix with the aged women, who, like all the
rest, wished to witness the ceremony; and he then retired, without
having the slightest suspicion.
Doña Clara placed herself at the foot of a tree, whose tufted branches
bent over the river; and there, with palpitating heart, restless mind,
and eye and ears on the watch, she impatiently awaited the hour of her
deliverance, although feigning to be attracted by all that went on
around her.
The Indians had built a small hut, covered externally with buffalo
robes, and having a low and narrow door. In order to reach this hut, a
path forty feet long and one wide had been traced, crossing the village
road at right angles. The grass had been torn up all along this path,
and collected at its termination opposite the hut. Forty pair of
moccasins had also been placed, one behind the other, in two rows, all
the extent of the path.
By the side of the mound of grass burned a fire, in which the flat
stones were heated. When they were red hot, they were carried into the
hut, and placed on a hearth made for the purpose.
The entire population of the village, with the exception of a few women,
whom their age kept apart, were seated along the two sides of the path,
with a large number of dishes of Indian corn, broth, grease, and meat
before them. The sorcerer was standing on the mound of grass.
At a signal he rose, and proceeded to the sweating lodge, being careful
always to place his feet on the moccasins. At the door of the lodge
Black Cat was standing, naked to the waist. The sorcerer, after
remaining a few minutes in the lodge, came out again, holding a cutlass
in his hand. He walked silently towards Black Cat, who, on seeing him,
rose and stretched his left hand, saying:
"I gladly give the first joint of the forefinger of this hand to Natosh,
if he will surrender my enemy to me, and allow me to lift his scalp."
"Natosh has heard thee: he accepts," the sorcerer replied, laconically.
With a blow of his cutlass he cut off the joint, which he threw over his
head, uttering some mysterious words; while Black Cat, apparently
insensible to the pain, continued his prayers. This operation
terminated, the sorcerer took a rod made of willow branches and fastened
by the tail of a prairie wolf: he dipped it in each of the dishes, and
scattered the contents in the direction of the four winds, while
invoking the Lord of life, fire, water, and air. These dishes, which no
one had yet touched, were then divided among the spectators, who
devoured them in a twinkling.
After this, the oldest warriors entered the medicine lodge: the women
carefully covered them, and threw over the red-hot stones water which
they drew from the sacred vessels, with sprigs of wormwood. After this
ceremony, all the inhabitants began dancing round the hut, accompanying
themselves with their chichikouis. During this time, he had placed on
the pile of grass in front of the lodge, a buffalo head with its muzzle
to the wind: then, taking a long pole covered with a brand new red
blanket, which he offered to the Master of Life, he proceeded, followed
by his relations and friends, to plant it before the sweating lodges.
The songs and dances continued. The sounds of the chichikouis became
more animated. A species of frenzy seemed to seize on all the Indians,
and the old women, who, till this moment, had remained passive
spectators of the ceremony, rushed in disorder towards the lodge,
uttering loud yells, and mingled with the noisy crowd.
Doña Clara remained alone at the foot of the tree, near the riverbank.
No one paid any further attention to her. It seemed as if she had been
forgotten in the general excitement. She took an anxious glance around:
by a species of intuition she felt that the help she expected would
arrive from the direction of the river. Carelessly and slowly, stooping
every second to cull one of the charming flowers--something like our
violets--which are the last to enamel the prairie, she approached the
bank. All at once she felt herself pulled back by the skirt of her
dress, and felt terribly alarmed. At the same time as this mysterious
hand seized her, a voice whispered the simple words:
"To the right, and stoop."
The maiden guessed, rather than heard the words; but she obeyed without
hesitation. Two minutes after, following a small path that opened before
her, she found herself sheltered behind an enormous rock, on the
riverbank. Two horses, saddled in the Indian fashion, were fastened to a
picket near the rock. At a sign from Eagle-wing, Doña Clara leaped on to
one of the horses, while the Indian bestrode the other.
"Good," he said, in his sympathising voice; "brave heart!" And letting
loose the bridles of both horses, he said:
"Quicker than the storm!"
The half-tamed mustangs started more rapidly than the wind, making the
pebbles strike fire under their hoofs. It was broad day, the prairie
extended for an enormous distance, flat, naked, and undiversified; and
at only a few paces off, the whole population of the village would not
fail soon to notice them. The position was most perilous and critical;
the two fugitives knew it, and redoubled their ardour, boldly braving
danger. All at once a yell of rage vibrated in the air.
"Courage!" the chief said.
"I have it," the girl replied, with clenched teeth, as she urged her
horse to increased speed. "They shall never capture me alive."
The Apaches, who had left their village for a religious festival, had
not brought their arms with them, and their horses naturally remained in
the stables. This was an hour's respite granted the fugitives.
So soon as the Indians had perceived Doña Clara's flight, the ceremony
was interrupted, and all rushed tumultuously toward the village, noisily
demanding their weapons and horses. Within a few minutes the most active
were in the saddle, and galloping in the traces of Doña Clara and
Eagle-wing.
The most celebrated European riders can form no idea of what a pursuit
is on the prairies. The Indians are the finest horsemen in the world.
Riveted to their steeds, which they squeeze and hold up between their
nervous knees, they become identified with them, communicating their
passions to them, as it were, by an electric fluid, and, like the
Centaurs in the fable, they perform prodigies on horseback; rocks,
ravines, hedges, currents--nothing stops or checks this furious race
which is allied to madness: a living whirlwind, they fly through space
with headlong speed, enveloped in a halo of dust.
Two hours passed thus, and the fugitives, bent over their horses' necks,
were unable to take a moment's rest. Their half-maddened steeds, with
their coats white with foam, and bleeding nostrils, reeled with fatigue
and terror; their trembling sinews scarce supported them, and yet, urged
on by their riders, they devoured the space, guessing instinctively that
the furious band of Indians was pursuing them at a short distance.
Scarce a thousand yards separated the two parties. Black Cat, furious at
having been cheated by a woman, was two horses' length in advance, and
was followed by seven or eight Indians, whose horses, fresher than those
of the others, had forged ahead. Eagle-wing turned round, and saw four
warriors a hundred paces from him.
"Forward!" he shouted to the maiden, as he struck her horse's croup with
his whip; and it bounded forward, with a supreme effort, uttering a
snort of pain.
At the same time the Coras turned back, and rushing like lightning on
his enemies, ere they had time to place themselves in a posture of
defence, he discharged his rifle at them. An Apache fell dead. The
sachem, whose horse was exhausted, felled a second foe with the butt of
his gun; then, with extraordinary skill, he leaped onto the steed of the
first warrior he had killed, caught the other by the bridle, and went
off again, leaving the Apaches astounded by this act of boldness.
Ten minutes later he rejoined Doña Clara, who had seen with a terror,
mingled with admiration, the heroic action of her defender. The maiden,
beneath her apparent weakness, concealed a thoroughly manly soul. With
her cheeks slightly tinged, her eyebrows contracted, her teeth clenched,
and animated by the fixed idea of escaping her ravishers, fatigue seemed
to have no mastery over her. It was with a feeling of indescribable joy
that she mounted the fresh steed the Indian brought her.
Owing to Eagle-wing's bold stroke, the fugitives had a considerable
advance on their pursuers; for the Apaches, as they came up to the spot
where their two companions had been killed, leaped off their horses, and
surrounded their corpses with lamentations.
Eagle-wing understood that this flight could not last, and that sooner
or later they must die or yield; he therefore altered his tactics.
At a little distance from the spot where they now were the Gila was
contracted; the river, reduced to a width of one hundred and fifty yards
at the most, ran between two wooded hills.
"We are lost," he hurriedly said to his companion, "if we continue to
fly thus. A desperate resolve can alone save us."
"Let us try it at all risks," the maiden answered, intrepidly, with
quivering lip and flashing eye.
"Come!" he continued.
Doña Clara followed him without hesitation to the rugged bank of the
river, when the warrior stopped.
"There," he said, hoarsely, as he pointed with a gesture full of
nobility to the Apaches coming up at full speed, "slavery, infamy, and
death. Here," he continued, as he pointed to the river, "death, perhaps,
but liberty."
"Let us be free or die!" she replied.
As we have said, the river ran between two elevated banks, and the
fugitives were now standing like two equestrian statues on the top of a
hillock twenty or five-and-twenty feet in height, from which they must
throw themselves into the river, an enormous leap for the horses which
ran a risk of being crushed in falling, and dragging their riders down
with them. But any other means of flight had become impossible.
The Apaches, spread all over the plain, had succeeded in surrounding the
fugitives.
"Has my sister decided?" the Indian asked.
Doña Clara took a glance around her.
The redskins, headed by Black Cat, were scarce one hundred and fifty
yards distant.
"Let us go, in Heaven's name," she said.
"May Natosh protect us!" the Indian said.
They energetically pressed the flanks of their horses, lifting them at
the same moment, and the two noble animals leaped into the river,
uttering a snort of terror. The Apaches arrived at this moment on the
brow of the hill, and could not restrain a yell of disappointment and
wrath at the sight of the desperate act.
The waters had closed over the fugitives, sending up to heaven a cloud
of spray, but the horses soon reappeared swimming vigorously toward the
other bank. The Indians had halted on the hill, insulting by their yells
and threats the victims who escaped by such a prodigy of daring. One of
them, urged by his fury, and unable to pull up his horse in time,
plunged into the Gila; but, having taken his precautions badly, the fall
was mortal to the horse.
The Indian slipped off, and began striking out for the bank. Instead of
continuing his flight, as he should have done, Eagle-wing, impelled by
that spirit of bravado natural to the redskins, re-entered the river
without hesitation, and, at the moment when the Apache warrior
reappeared on the surface, he bent over, seized him by his long hair,
and buried his knife in his throat. Then, turning to his enemies, who
watched with a shudder this terrible drama, he drew up the wretch to his
saddle-bow, scalped him, and brandishing this sanguinary trophy with an
air of triumph, he uttered his war yell.
The Apaches poured a shower of bullets and arrows round the Coras
Sachem, who, standing motionless in the middle of the river, still waved
his horrible trophy. At length he turned his horse's head, and rejoined
his companion, who was awaiting him timorously on the bank.
"Let us go," he said, as he fastened the scalp to his waist belt. "The
Apaches are dogs, who can do nought but bark."
"Let us go," she replied, as she turned her head away in horror.
At the moment when they started again without troubling themselves about
their enemies, who, scattered along the other bank, were eagerly seeking
a ford, Eagle-wing perceived a cloud of dust, which, on dissipating,
permitted him to see a party of horsemen galloping up at lightning
speed.
"There is no hope left," he muttered.