A SKIRMISH.
Curumilla, after concealing, with that Indian skill he so thoroughly
possessed, the young ladies at a spot where they were thoroughly
protected from bullets, had placed himself, rifle in hand, not by the
side of the two riders, but, with characteristic redskin prudence, he
ambuscaded himself behind the carriage, probably reflecting that he
represented the entire infantry force, and not caring, through a point
of honour, very absurd in his opinion, to expose himself to a death not
only certain, but useless to those he wished to defend.
The horsemen, however, on coming within range of the persons they were
pursuing, stopped, and by their gestures seemed to evince a hesitation
the fugitives did not at all understand, after the fashion in which they
had hitherto been pursued. The motive for this hesitation, which the
Frenchman and his companions could not know, and which perplexed them so
greatly, was very simple.
Carnero, for it was the general's capataz who was pursuing the carriage,
with his peons, all at once perceived, with a secret pleasure, it is
true, though he was careful not to let his companions notice it, that
while they were pursuing the carriage, other horsemen were pursuing
them, and coming up at headlong speed. On seeing this, as we said, the
party halted, much disappointed and greatly embarrassed as to what they
had better do.
They were literally placed between two fires, and were the attacked
instead of the assailants; the situation was critical, and deserved
serious consideration. Carnero suggested a retreat, remarking, with a
certain amount of reason, that the sides were no longer equal, and that
success was highly problematical. The peons, all utter ruffians, and
expressly chosen by the general, but who entertained a profound respect
for the integrity of their limbs, and were but very slightly inclined
to have them injured in so disadvantageous a contest with people who
would not recoil, were disposed to follow the advice of the capataz and
retire, before a retreat became impossible.
Unhappily, the Zaragate was among the peons. Believing, from his
conversation with the colonel, that he knew better than anyone the
general's intentions, and attracted by the hope of a rich reward if he
succeeded in delivering him of his enemy, that is to say, in killing
Valentine; and, moreover, probably impelled by the personal hatred he
entertained for the hunter, he would not listen to any observation, and
swore with horrible oaths that he would carry out the general's orders
at all hazards, and that, since the persons they were ordered to stop
were only a few paces before them, they ought not to retire until they
had, at least, attempted to perform their duty; and that if his comrades
were such cowards as to desert him, he would go on alone at his own
risk, certain that the general would be satisfied with the way in which
he behaved.
After a declaration so distinct and peremptory, any hesitation became
impossible, the more so as the horsemen were rapidly coming up, and if
the capataz hesitated much longer he would be attacked in the rear. Thus
driven out of his last entrenchment, and compelled against his will to
fight, Carnero gave the signal to push on ahead.
But the peons had scarce started, ere three shots were fired, and three
men rolled in the dust. The newcomers, in this way, warned their friends
to hold their ground, and that they were bringing help. The dismounted
peons were not wounded, though greatly shaken by their fall, and unable
to take part in the fight; their horses alone were hit, and that so
cleverly, that they at once fell.
"Eh, eh!" the capataz said, as he galloped on; "these pícaros have a
very sure hand. What do you think of it?"
"I say that there are still four of us; that is double the number of
those waiting for us down there, and we are sufficient to master them."
"Don't be too sure, my good friend, Zaragate," the capataz said with a
grin; "they are men made of iron, who must be killed twice over before
they fall."
The Tigrero and his companions had heard shots and seen the peons bite
the dust.
"There is Valentine," said the Frenchman.
"I believe so," Don Martial replied.
"Shall we charge?"
"Yes."
And digging in their spurs, they dashed at the peons.
Valentine and his two comrades, Belhumeur and Black Elk (for the
Frenchman was not mistaken, it was really the hunter coming up, whom the
Canadian had warned) fell on the peons simultaneously with Don Martial
and his companion.
A terrible, silent, and obstinate struggle went on for some minutes
between these nine men; the foes had seized each other round the body,
as they were too close to use firearms, and tried to stab each other.
Nothing was heard but angry curses and panting, but not a word or cry,
for what is the use of insulting when you can kill?
The Zaragate, so soon as he recognized the hunter, dashed at him.
Valentine, although taken off his guard, offered a vigorous resistance;
the two men were entwined like serpents, and, in their efforts to
dismount each other, at last both fell, and rolled beneath the feet of
the combatants who, without thinking of them, or perceiving their fall,
continued to attack each other furiously.
The hunter was endowed with great muscular strength and unequalled
science and agility; but on this occasion he had found an adversary
worthy of him. The Zaragate, some years younger than Valentine, and
possessed of his full bodily strength, while urged on by the love of a
rich reward, made superhuman efforts to master his opponent and plunge
his navaja into his throat. Several times had each of them succeeded
in getting the other underneath, but, as so frequently happens in
wrestling, a sudden movement of the shoulders or loins had changed the
position of the adversaries and brought the one beneath who a moment
previously had been on the top.
Still Valentine felt that his strength was becoming exhausted;
the unexpected resistance he met with from an enemy apparently so
little worthy of him, exasperated him and made him lose his coolness.
Collecting all his remaining vigour to attempt a final and decisive
effort, he succeeded in getting his enemy once again under him, and
pinned him down; but at the same moment Valentine uttered a cry of pain
and rolled on the ground--a horse's kick had broken his left arm.
The Zaragate sprang up with a tiger's bound, and bursting into a yell
of delight, placed his knee on his enemy's chest, at the same time as
he prepared to bury his navaja in his heart. Valentine felt that he was
lost, and did not attempt to avoid the death that threatened him.
"Poor Louis," he merely said, looking firmly and intrepidly at the
bandit.
"Ah, ah!" the Zaragate said, with a ferocious grin, "I hold my vengeance
at length, accursed Trail-hunter."
He did not complete the sentence; suddenly seized by his long hair,
while a knee, thrust between his shoulders, forced him to bend back, he
saw, as in a horrible dream, a ferocious face grinning above his head.
With a fearful groan he rolled on the ground; a knife had been buried in
his heart, while his scalp, which was suddenly removed, left his denuded
skull to inundate with blood the ground around.
Curumilla raised in his arms the body of his friend, whose life he had
just saved once again, and bore it to the side of the road. Valentine
had fainted.
The chief, so soon as he saw his friends charge the peons, left his
ambush, and while careful to remain behind them, followed them to the
battlefield. He had watched eagerly the long struggle between the hunter
and the Zaragate; trying vainly to assist his friend, but never able
to succeed. The two enemies were so entwined, their movements were so
rapid, and they changed their position so suddenly, that the chief was
afraid lest he might wound his friend in attempting to help him. Hence
he awaited with extreme anxiety an opportunity so long delayed, and
which the Zaragate himself offered by losing his time in insulting his
enemy instead of killing him at once, when the injury he received left
him defenceless in the bandit's power.
The Araucano bounded like a wild beast on the Mexican, and without
hesitation scalped and stabbed him with the agility characteristic of
the redskins, and which he himself possessed in so high a degree.
Almost at the same moment the horsemen also finished their fight. The
peons had offered a vigorous resistance, but being badly supported
by the capataz, who was disabled at the beginning of the skirmish by
Don Martial, and seeing the Zaragate dead and three of their friends
dismounted and incapable of coming to their assistance, they gave in.
The capataz had been wounded at his own request by Don Martial, in order
to save appearance with the general; he had a wide gash on his right
arm, very severe at the first glance, but insignificant in reality. A
peon had been almost smashed by Belhumeur, so that the field of battle
fairly remained in the hands of the hunters.
When their victory was insured they assembled anxiously round
Valentine, for they were alarmed at his condition, and most anxious
to be reassured. Valentine, whose arm Curumilla had at once set, with
the skill and coolness of an old practitioner, soon reopened his eyes,
reassured his friends by a smile, and offered the Indian chief his
right hand, which the latter laid on his heart with an expression of
indescribable happiness, as he uttered his favourite exclamation of Ugh!
the only word he permitted himself to use in joy or in sorrow, when he
felt himself choking with internal emotion.
"Señores," the hunter said, "it is only an arm broken; thanks to the
chief, I have had an easy escape. Let us resume our journey before other
enemies come up."
"And we, señor?" the capataz cried humbly.
Valentine rose with the chiefs assistance, and took a furious glance at
the peons. "As for you, miserable assassins," he said with a terrible
accent, "return to your master and tell him in what way you were
received. But it is not sufficient to have chastised your perfidy, I
must have revenge for the odious snare into which my friends and I all
but fell. I will learn whether in open day, and some half a dozen miles
from Mexico, bandits can thus attack peaceable travellers with impunity.
Begone!"
Valentine was slightly mistaken, for, although it was really the
intention of the peons to attack them, the hunters had actually begun
the fight by dismounting the three peons. But the fellows, convicted by
their conscience, did not notice this delicate distinction, and were
very happy to get off so cheaply, and be enabled to return peaceably,
when they feared that their conquerors would hand them over to the
police as they had a perfect right to do.
Thus, far from raising any objections, they broke forth into apologies
and protestations of devotion, and hastened off, not troubling
themselves to pick up the body of their defunct comrade, el Zaragate,
which they left to the vultures which settled on it, so soon as the
highway was clear again.
The capataz, under the pretext that his wound was very painful, but in
reality to give Valentine and his friends the requisite time to secure
themselves temporarily from pursuit, insisted on returning to the city
slowly, so that they did not reach the general's mansion till two hours
had elapsed.
So soon as the peons in obedience to the hunter's orders had left the
battlefield, he, on his part, gave his companions the signal to start.
Don Martial had hurried to reassure the ladies, who were standing more
dead than alive at the spot where the chief had concealed them. He made
them get into the carriage again, without telling them anything except
that the danger was past, and that the rest of the journey would be
performed in safety.
Valentine's friends tried in vain to induce him to get into the carriage
with the ladies. He would not consent, but insisted on mounting his
horse, assuring them, in the far from probable event of their being
attacked again, that he could still be of some service to his companions
in spite of his broken arm. The latter were too well acquainted with his
inflexible will to press him further, so Curumilla remounted the coach
box, and they started.
The rest of the journey was performed without any incident, and they
reached the quinta twenty minutes later. The skirmish had taken place
scarce two miles from the country house. On reaching the gates,
Valentine took leave of his friend without dismounting.
"What!" the latter said to him, "are you going, Valentine, without
resting for a moment?"
"I must, my dear Rallier," he answered; "you know what imperious reasons
claim my presence in Mexico."
"But you are wounded."
"Have I not Curumilla to attend to my hurt? Do not be anxious about
me; besides, I intend to see you again soon. This quinta appears to me
strong enough to resist a surprise. Have you a garrison?"
"I have a dozen servants and my two brothers."
"In that case I am easy in my mind; besides, there is only one night to
pass, and I believe that after the lesson his people have received the
general will not venture on a second attack, for some days at least.
Besides, he reckons on the success of his pronunciamiento. You will come
to me tomorrow at daybreak, will you not?"
"I shall not fail."
"In that case I will be off."
"Will you not say good-bye to the ladies?"
"They are not aware of my presence, and it will be better for them not
to see me; so good-bye till tomorrow."
And making a signal to his comrades who, including Curumilla, to whom a
horse was given, collected around him, Valentine started at a gallop for
Mexico, caring no more for his broken arm than if it were a mere scratch.