INDIAN HOSPITALITY.
Not only was the attempt of the hunters to escape not so desperate as
the reader might be inclined to suppose, but it even offered, up to a
certain point, great chances of success.
The Apaches, when encamped in sight of an enemy, never keep watch,
unless they form a weak detachment of warriors, and find themselves
opposed to a far superior force; but even in that case these sentries
are so careless that it is extremely easy to surprise them, which often
happens, by the way, without rendering them any the more cautious.
In the case of which we write, hardly a few miles from their village,
and having an effective strength of nearly eight hundred bold warriors,
they could not suppose that five men, who had sought shelter in an
island, without the means of quitting it, would attempt such a daring
stroke.
Hence, after their attempted surprise of the whites had failed, they
returned to sleep, some round the fires, others in the tents erected by
their wives, waiting patiently for the morrow to attack their foes from
all sides at once, which offered a certain chance of success.
In the meanwhile the hunters advanced toward the bank, concealed by the
fog that enfolded them like a winding sheet, and hid their movements
from the eyes interested in spying them. In this way they arrived in
sight of the fires, whose uncertain gleams became weaker and weaker, and
they saw their enemies lying down asleep.
Eagle-wing, at a hint from Sunbeam, steered the canoe to the foot of a
rock, whose commanding mass stood about thirty feet over the river, and
offered them under its flank a propitious shelter to disembark in
security.
So soon as they landed, the hunters took Indian file, and with their
rifles ready, they stealthily marched toward the camp, stopping at
intervals to look anxiously around them, or listen to any suspicious
sound.
Then, when all became quiet again, they resumed their venturesome march,
gliding past tents and at times stepping over the sleepers at the fire,
whom the slightest badly-calculated movement would have aroused.
It is impossible to form a correct idea of such a march unless you have
made one yourself. A man gifted with the most energetic mind could not
endure its terrible emotions for an hour. With oppressed chest, haggard
eyes, and limbs agitated by a feverish and convulsive motion, the
hunters passed through the midst of their ferocious enemies, knowing
perfectly well that, if they were discovered, it would be all over with
them, and that they would perish in the most horrible agony.
On reaching almost the extreme limit of the camp, an Indian, lying
across the path they were following, suddenly made a movement and sat
up, instinctively seizing his lance. One shout and the hunters were
lost! Curumilla walked straight up to the Indian, who was stupefied by
the sight of this funereal and fantastic procession, which he could not
comprehend, and was followed by his comrades, whose step was so light
that they seemed to glide over the ground without touching it.
The Apache, terrified by this apparition, which, in his superstitious
belief, he attributed to the heavenly powers, crossed his arms on his
chest and silently bowed his head. The band passed, the Indian not
making a sigh or uttering a word. The hunters had scarce disappeared
behind some rising ground, when the Apache ventured to lift his eyes; he
was then convinced that he had had a vision, and without trying to
account for what he had seen, he lay down and went quietly to sleep
again. By this time the hunters had emerged from the camp.
"Now," said Valentine, "the worst is over."
"On the contrary," Don Pablo observed, "our position is more precarious
than ever, since we are in the midst of our enemies, and have no
horses."
Curumilla laid his hand on his shoulder, and looked at him softly. "My
brother will be patient," he said, "he will soon have them."
"How so?" the young man asked.
"Sunbeam," the Aucas Chief continued, "must know where the horses of the
tribe are."
"I know it," she replied, laconically.
"Very good; my sister will guide me."
"Chief, one moment: the deuce!" Valentine exclaimed, "I will not let you
run this new danger alone; it would be a dishonour to my white skin."
"My brother can come."
"That is exactly what I mean to do. Don Pablo will remain here with Shaw
and Eagle-wing near Doña Clara, while we attempt this new expedition.
What do you think of it, Don Pablo?"
"That your plan, my friend, is worth nothing."
"Why so?"
"For this reason: we are here two paces from the Apaches, and one of
them may awake at any moment. Just now we escaped only by a miracle; who
knows how our enterprise will turn? If we separate, perhaps we may never
come together again. My opinion is, that we should all go together to
look for the horses; we should then save time in useless coming and
going, and this will give us a considerable advantage."
"That is true," Valentine answered; "let us go together, and in that way
we shall have finished sooner."
Sunbeam then began guiding the little party, but instead of re-entering
the camp, as the hunters feared, she skirted it for some distance; then,
making a sign to her companions to stop and wait, she advanced alone.
Within five minutes she returned.
"The horses are there," she said, pointing to a spot in the fog; "they
are hobbled, and guarded by a man walking up and down near them. What
will my pale brothers do?"
"Kill the man, and seize the horses we want," Don Pablo said; "we are
not in such a situation that we can be fastidious."
"Why kill the poor man, if he can be got rid of otherwise?" Doña Clara
said, softly.
"That is true," Valentine supported her, "we are not wild beasts, hang
it all!"
"The warrior shall not be killed," Curumilla said, in his grave voice;
"my pale brothers must wait."
And seizing the lasso he always carried about him, the Aucas lay down on
the ground, and began crawling through the tall grass. He soon
disappeared in the fog.
The Apache sentry was strolling carelessly along, when Curumilla
suddenly rose behind him, and seizing his neck in both his hands, he
squeezed it with such force that the Apache, taken unawares, had not
time to utter a cry.
In a turn of the hand he was thrown down, and garotted, and that so
promptly that he was choked as much by the sudden attack as by the
terror that had seized on him. The chief put his prisoner on his
shoulders, and deposited him at Doña Clara's feet, saying--"My sister's
wishes are accomplished, this man is safe and sound."
"Thank you," the maiden answered, with a charming smile.
Curumilla turned red with delight.
Without loss of time, the hunters seized the seven best horses they came
across, which they saddled, and then shod with _parflèche_ to avoid the
sound of their hoofs on the sand.
This time, Valentine assumed the command of the party. So soon as the
horses were urged into a gallop, all their chests, oppressed by the
moving interludes of the struggle which had continued so long, dilated,
and hope returned to their hearts. The hunters were at length in the
desert; before them they had space, good horses, arms and ammunition.
They fancied themselves saved, and were so to a certain extent, as
their enemies still slept, little suspecting their daring escape.
The night was half spent, and the fog covered the fugitives. They had at
least six hours before them, and they profited by them.
The horses, urged to their utmost speed, went two leagues without
stopping. At sunrise the fog was dissipated by the first beams; and the
hunters instinctively raised their heads. The desert was calm, nothing
disturbed its majestic solitude; in the distance a few elks and
buffaloes were browsing on the prairie grass, a sure sign of the absence
of Indians, whom these intelligent animals scent at great distances.
Valentine, in order to let the horses breathe awhile, as well as draw
breath himself, checked the headlong speed, which had no further object.
The region on which the hunters found themselves in no way resembled
that they had quitted a few hours previously; here and there, the
monotony of the landscape was broken by lofty trees; on either side
stretched out high hills. At times they forded some of the innumerable
streams which fall from the mountains, and, after the most capricious
windings, are swallowed up in the Gila.
At about eight o'clock Valentine noticed, a little to the left, a light
cloud of bluish smoke rising in a spiral to the sky.
"What is that?" Don Pablo asked, anxiously.
"A hunter's encampment, doubtless," Valentine answered.
"No," Curumilla said; "that is not a paleface, but an Indian, fire."
"How the deuce can you see that, chief? I fancy all fires are the same,
and produce smoke," Don Pablo said.
"Yes," Valentine remarked, "all fires produce smoke; but there is a
difference in smoke--is there not, chief?" he added, addressing
Curumilla.
"Yes," the latter answered laconically.
"All that is very fine," Don Pablo went on; "but can you explain to me,
chief, by what you see, that the smoke is produced by a redskin fire?"
Curumilla shrugged his shoulders without replying--Eagle-wing took the
word.
"The whites, when they light fires," he said, "take the first wood to
hand."
"Of course," said Don Pablo.
"Most frequently they collect green wood: in that case the wood, which
is damp, produces in burning a white thick smoke, very difficult to hide
on the prairie; while the Indians only employ dry wood, whose smoke is
light, thin, almost impalpable, and soon becomes confused with the sky."
"Decidedly, on the desert," Don Pablo said, with an air of conviction,
"the Indians are better than us; we shall never come up to them."
"Humph!" said Valentine; "If you were to live with them a while, they
would teach you plenty more things."
"Look," Eagle-wing continued; "what did I tell you?"
In fact, during this conversation the hunters had continued their
journey, and at this moment were not more than a hundred yards from the
spot where the fire burned which had given rise to so many comments.
Two Indians, completely armed and equipped for war, were standing in
front of the travellers, waving their buffalo robes in sign of peace.
Valentine quivered with joy on recognising them; these men were
Comanches, that is to say, friends and allies, since the hunter was an
adopted son of that nation. Valentine ordered his little party to halt,
and carelessly throwing his rifle on his back, he pushed on, and soon
met the still motionless Indians.
After exchanging the different questions always asked in such cases on
the prairie, as to the state of the roads and the quantity of game, the
hunter, though he was well aware of the fact, asked the Indians to what
nation they belonged.
"Comanches," one of the warriors answered, proudly. "My nation is the
Queen of the Prairies."
Valentine bowed, as if fully convinced. "I know," he said, "that the
Comanches are invincible warriors. Who can resist them?"
It was the Indian's turn to bow, with a smile of satisfaction at this
point-blank compliment.
"Is my brother a chief?" Valentine again asked.
"I am Pethonista (the Eagle)," the Indian said, regarding the hunter
like a man persuaded that he was about to produce a profound sensation.
He was not mistaken; for the name was that of one of the most venerated
chiefs of the Comanche nation.
"I know my brother," Valentine answered; "I am very happy to have met
him."
"Let my brother speak; I am listening to him: the great white hunter is
no stranger to the Comanches, who have adopted him."
"What?" the hunter exclaimed; "Do you know me too, chief?"
The warrior smiled.
"Unicorn is the most powerful Sachem of the Comanches," he said. "On
leaving his village twelve hours ago, he warned his brother Pethonista
that he expected a great white warrior adopted by the tribe."
"It is him," said Valentine. "Unicorn is a part of myself, and the sight
of him dilates my heart. Personally, I have nothing to say to you,
chief, since the sachem has instructed you; but I bring with me friends
and two females--one is Sunbeam, the other the White Lily of the
Valley."
"The White Lily is welcome among my people: my sons will make it a duty
to serve her," the Indian answered nobly.
"Thanks, chief. I expected nothing less from you. Permit me to rejoin my
companions, who are doubtless growing impatient, to tell them of the
fortunate meeting with which the Master of Life has favoured me."
"Good. My brother can return to his friends, and I shall go before him
to the village, in order to warn my young men of the arrival of a
warrior of our nation."
Valentine smiled at this remark.
"My brother is the master," he said.
After bowing to the Indian chief, he returned to his companions, who did
not know to what circumstance they should attribute his lengthened
absence.
"They are friends," Valentine said, pointing to Pethonista, who had
leaped on a mustang, and started at full speed. "Unicorn, on leaving his
village, ordered the chief I have been speaking to, to do us the honours
until his return. So look, Don Pablo, how he hurries to announce our
arrival to the warriors of his tribe."
"Heaven be praised!" the young man said, "For ease and rest in safety.
Suppose we push on?"
"Do not do so, my friend. On the contrary, if you will take my advice,
we shall reduce our pace. The Comanches are doubtless preparing us a
reception, and we should annoy them by arriving too soon."
"I do not wish that," Don Pablo replied. "In fact, we have nothing to
fear now, so we can continue our journey at a trot."
"Yes; for nothing presses on us. In an hour at the most we shall have
arrived."
"May Heaven be thanked for the protection it has deigned to grant us,"
the young man said, looking up with a glance of gratitude.
The little party continued to advance in the presumed direction of the
village.