THE FORT OF THE CHICHIMÈQUES.
The sun rose; its beams played on the trembling yellow leaves of the
trees, and tinged them with a thousand shades of gold and purple. The
birds, cozily nestled in the bushes, struck up their matin carol;
the awakening of nature was as splendid and imposing as it is in all
mountainous countries.
The leader of the caravan left his tent and gave orders to strike the
camp. The tent was at once folded up, the mules were loaded, and, so
soon as the horses were saddled, the party started without waiting for
the morning meal, for they generally breakfasted at the eleven o'clock
halt, while resting to let the great heat of the day subside.
The caravan advanced along the road from Santa Fé to the United States,
at a speed unusual under such circumstances. A military system was
affected which was imposing, and, indeed, indispensable in these
regions, infested not merely by numerous bands of predatory Indians, but
also traversed by the pirates of the prairie, more dangerous bandits
still, who were driven by their enemies beyond the pale of the law, and
who, ambushed at the turnings of roads or in broken rocks, attacked the
caravans as they passed, and pitilessly massacred the travellers, after
plundering them of all they possessed.
About twenty yards ahead of the caravan rode four men, with their rifles
on their thigh, preceded by the guide, who formed the extreme vanguard.
Next came the main body, composed of six well-armed peons, watching
the mules and baggage, under the immediate orders of the chief of the
caravan. Lastly, the capataz rode about thirty paces in the rear, having
under his orders four resolute men armed to the teeth.
Thus arranged to face any event, the caravan enjoyed a relative
security, for it was not very probable that the white or red pillagers,
who were doubtless watching it, would dare to attack in open day
seventeen resolute and trained men. At night the horse thieves, who
glide silently in the darkness during the sleep of the travellers, and
carry off horses and baggage, were more formidable.
Still, either through accident, or the prudential measures employed
by the chief of the caravan, since they had left Santa Fé, that is
to say for more than a month, the Mexicans had not seen an Indian,
or been alarmed. They had journeyed--apparently at least--with as
much tranquillity as if, instead of being in the heart of the Rocky
Mountains, they were moving along the roads in, the interior of Sonora.
This security, however, while augmenting their confidence, had not
caused their prudential measures to be neglected; and their chief, whom
this unusual leniency on the part of the villains who prowl about these
countries alarmed, redoubled his vigilance and precautions to avoid a
surprise and a collision with the plunderers.
The discovery, made on the previous day by the guide, of an Indian
Crow trail--the most determined thieves in these mountains--added to
his apprehensions; for he did not hide from himself that, if he were
compelled to fight, in spite of the courage and discipline of his peons,
the odds would be against him, when fighting men thoroughly acquainted
with the country, and who would only attack him with numbers sufficient
to crush his band, however desperate the resistance offered might be.
When he left the camp, the chief of the caravan, suffering perhaps from
a gloomy foreboding, spurred his horse and joined the Indian, who, as we
said, was marching alone in front, examining the bushes, and apparently
performing all the duties of an experienced guide. Curumilla, though he
heard the hurried paces of the Mexican's horse, did not turn round, but
continued trotting along carelessly on the sorry mule allotted to him
for this expedition.
When the chief of the caravan joined him and brought his horse alongside
the Indian, instead of speaking to him, he attentively examined him
for some minutes, trying to pierce the mask of stoicism spread over
the guide's features, and to read his thoughts. But, after a rather
lengthened period, the Mexican was constrained to recognize the
inutility of his efforts, and to confess to himself the impossibility of
guessing the intentions of this man, for whom, in spite of the service
he had rendered the caravan, he felt an instinctive aversion, and whom
he would like to force, at all risks, to make a frank explanation.
"Indian," he said to him in Spanish, "I wish to speak with you for a
few moments on an important subject, so be good enough to put off your
usual silence for awhile and answer, like an honest man, the questions I
propose asking you."
Curumilla bowed respectfully.
"You engaged with me, at Santa Fé, to lead me, for the sum of four
ounces, of which you received one half in advance, to lead me, I say,
safely to the frontiers of Upper Mexico. Since you have been in my
service I must allow that I have only had reason to praise the prudence
in which you have performed your duties; but we are at this moment in
the heart of the Rocky Mountains, that is to say, we have reached the
most dangerous part of our long journey. Two days ago you lifted the
trail of Crow Indians, very formidable enemies of caravans, and I want
to consult with you as to the means to employ to foil the snares in
which these Indians will try to catch us, and to know what measures you
intend to employ to avoid a meeting with them; in a word, I want to know
your plan of action."
The Indian, without replying, felt in a bag of striped calico thrown
over his shoulder, and produced a greasy paper, folded in four, which he
opened and offered the Mexican.
"What is this?" the latter asked, as he looked and ran through it. "Oh,
yes, certainly; your engagement. Well, what connection has this with the
question I asked you?"
Curumilla, still impassive, laid his finger on the paper, at the last
paragraph of the engagement.
"Well, what then?" the Mexican exclaimed, ill-humouredly. "It is said
there, it is true, that I must trust entirely to you, and leave you at
liberty to act as you please for the common welfare, without questioning
you."
The Indian nodded his head in assent.
"Well, _voto a Brios!_" the Mexican shouted, irritated by this studied
coolness, in spite of his resolve to curb his temper, and annoyed at
the man's obstinate refusal to answer, "what proves to me that you are
acting for our common welfare, and that you are not a traitor?"
At this word traitor, so distinctly uttered by the Mexican, Curumilla
gave a tiger glance at the speaker, while his whole body was agitated by
a convulsive tremor: he uttered two or three incomprehensible guttural
exclamations, and ere the Mexican could suspect his intentions, he
was seized round the waist, lifted from the saddle, and hurled on the
ground, where he lay stunned.
Curumilla leapt from his mule, drew from his belt two gold ounces,
hurled them at the Mexican, and then, bounding over the precipice
that bordered the road, glided to the bottom with headlong speed and
disappeared at once.
What we have described occurred so rapidly that the peons who remained
behind, although they hurried up at full speed to their master's
assistance, arrived too late on the scene to prevent the Indian's flight.
The Mexican had received no wound; the surprise and violence of the
fall had alone caused his momentary stupor; but almost immediately
he regained his senses, and comprehending the inutility and folly of
pursuit at such a spot with such an adversary, he devoured his shame and
passion, and, remounting his horse, which had been stopped, he coolly
gave orders to continue the journey, with an internal resolution that,
if ever the opportunity offered, he would have an exemplary revenge for
the insult he had received.
For the moment he could not think of it, for more serious interests
demanded all his attention; it was evident to him that, in branding the
guide as a traitor, he had struck home, and that the latter, furious at
seeing himself unmasked, had proceeded to such extremities in order to
escape punishment, and find means to fly safely.
The situation was becoming most critical for the chief of the caravan;
he found himself abandoned and left without a guide, in unknown regions,
doubtless watched by hidden foes, and exposed at any moment to an
attack, whose result could but be unfavourable to himself and his
people; hence he must form a vigorous resolve in order to escape, were
it possible, the misfortunes that menaced the caravan.
The Mexican was a man endowed with an energetic organization, brave to
rashness, whom no peril, however great it might be, had ever yet had
the power to make him blench; in a few seconds he calculated all the
favourable chances left him, and his determination was formed. The road
he was following at this moment was assuredly the one frequented by the
caravans proceeding from the United States to California or Mexico; and
there was no other road but this in the mountains. Hence the Mexican
resolved to form an entrenched camp, at the spot that might appear to
him most favourable, fortify himself there as well as he could, and
await the passing of the first caravan, which he would join.
This plan was exceedingly simple, and in addition very easy to execute.
As the travellers possessed an ample stock of provisions and ammunition,
they had no reason to fear scarcity, while, on the other hand, seven or
eight days in all probability would not elapse without the appearance of
a fresh caravan; and the Mexican believed himself capable of resisting,
behind good entrenchments, with his fifteen peons, any white or red
plunderers who dared to attack him.
So soon as this resolution was formed, the Mexican at once prepared
to carry it out. After having briefly and in a few words explained
to his disheartened peons what his intentions were, and recommending
them to redouble their prudence, he left them, and pushed on in order
to reconnoitre the ground and select the most suitable spot for the
establishment of the camp.
He started his horse at a gallop and soon disappeared in the windings
of the road, but, through fear of a sudden attack, he held his gun in
his hand, and his glances were constantly directed around him, examining
with the utmost care the thick chaparral which bordered the road on the
side of the mountain.
The Mexican went on thus for about two hours, noticing that the further
he proceeded the narrower and more abrupt the track became. Suddenly
it widened out in front of him, and he arrived at an esplanade, across
which the road ran, and which was no other than the Fort of the
Chichimèques, previously described by us.
The Mexican's practised eye at once seized the advantages of such a
position, and, without loss of time in examining it in detail, he turned
back to rejoin the caravan. The travellers, though marching much more
slowly than their chief, had, however, pushed on, so that he rejoined
them about three-quarters of an hour after the discovery of the terrace.
The flight of the guide had nearly demoralized the Mexicans, more
accustomed to the ease of tropical regions, and whose courage the
snows of the Rocky Mountains had already weakened, if not destroyed.
Fortunately for the chief's plans he had over his servants that
influence which clever minds know how to impose on ordinary natures, and
the peons, on seeing their master gay and careless about the future,
began to hope that they would escape better than they had supposed from
the unlucky position in which they found themselves so suddenly placed.
The march was continued tranquilly; no suspicious sign was discovered,
and the Mexicans were justified in believing that, with the exception of
the time they would be compelled to lose in awaiting a new guide, the
flight of the Indian would entail no disagreeable consequences on them.
Singularly enough, Carnero the capataz seemed rather pleased than
annoyed at the sudden disappearance of the guide. Far from complaining
or deploring the delay in the continuance of the journey he laughed at
what had happened, and made an infinitude of more or less witty jests
about it, which in the end considerably annoyed his master, whose joy
was merely on the surface, and who, in his heart, cursed the mishap
which kept them in the mountains, and exposed him to the insults of the
plunderers.
"Pray, what do you find so agreeable in what has happened that you
are or affect to be so merry, Ño Carnero?" he at length asked with
considerable ill temper.
"Forgive me, mi amo," the capataz answered humbly; "but you know the
proverb, 'What can't be cured must be endured,' and consequently I
forgot."
"Hum!" said the master, without any other reply.
"And besides," the capataz added, as he stooped down to the chief, and
almost whispering, "however bad our position may be, is it not better to
pretend to consider it good?"
His master gave him a piercing look, but the other continued
imperturbably with an obsequious smile--
"The duty of a devoted servant, mi amo, is to be always of his master's
opinion, whatever may happen. The peons were murmuring this morning
after your departure, and you know what the character of these brutes
is; if they feel alarmed we shall be lost, for it will be impossible
for us to get out of our position; hence I thought that I was carrying
out your views by attempting to cheer them up, and I feign a gaiety
which, be assured, I do not feel, under the supposition that it would be
agreeable to you."
The Mexican shook his head dubiously, but the observations of the
capataz were so just, the reasons he offered appeared so plausible,
that he was constrained to yield and thank him, as he did not care to
alienate at this moment a man who by a word could change the temper of
his peons, and urge them to revolt instead of adhering to their duty.
"I thank you, Ño Carnero," he said, with a conciliatory air. "You
perfectly understood my intentions. I am pleased with your devotion to
my person, and the moment will soon arrive, I hope, when it will be in
my power to prove to you the value I attach to you."
"The certainty of having done my duty, now as ever, is the sole reward I
desire, mi amo," the capataz answered, with a respectful bow.
The Mexican gave him a side glance, but he restrained himself, and
it was with a smile that he thanked the capataz for the second time.
The latter thought it prudent to break off the interview here, and,
stopping his horse, he allowed his master to pass him. The chief of the
caravan was one of those unhappily constituted men who after having
passed their life in deceiving or trying to deceive those with whom the
accidents of an adventurous existence have brought them into contact,
had reached that point when he had no confidence in anyone, and sought,
behind the most frivolous words, to discover an interested motive, which
most frequently did not exist. Although his capataz Carnero had been
for a long time in his service, and he granted him a certain amount of
familiarity--although he appeared to place great confidence in him, and
count on his devotion, still, in his heart, he not only suspected him,
but felt almost confident, without any positive proof, it is true, that
he was playing a double game with him, and was a secret agent of his
deceivers.
What truth there might be in this supposition, which held a firm hold of
the Mexican's mind, we are unable to say at present; but the slightest
actions of his capataz were watched by him, and he felt certain that he
should, sooner or later, attain a confirmation of his doubts; hence,
while feigning the greatest satisfaction with him, he constantly kept on
his guard, ready to deal a blow, which would be the sharper because it
had been so long prepared.
A little before eleven A.M. the caravan reached the terrace, and it was
with a feeling of joy, which they did not attempt to conceal, that the
peons recognized the strength of the position selected by their master
for the encampment.
"We shall stop here for the present," the Mexican said. "Unload the
mules, and light the fires. Immediately after breakfast we will begin
entrenching ourselves in such a way as to foil all the assaults of
marauders."
The peons obeyed with the speed of men who have made a long journey and
are beginning to feel hungry; the fires were lighted in an instant, and
a few moments later the peons vigorously attacked their maize tortillas,
their tocino, and their cecina--those indispensable elements of every
Mexican meal. When the hunger of his men was appeased, and they had
smoked their cigarettes, the chief rose.
"Now," he said, "to work."