IN THE PRAIRIE.
The Mexican frontier, up to the old Jesuit missions, now abandoned and
falling in ruins, forms the skirt of the great prairie of the Rio Gila
or of Apacheria, which extends as far as the mournful desert of the
Norte. In this portion of the prairie nature expands all that richness
of growth and vegetation which may be in vain sought elsewhere.
Guetzalli was built by Count de Lhorailles on the ruins of a once
flourishing mission of the reverend Jesuits, which the decree commanding
their expulsion had compelled them to abandon. Without entering into
discussion for or against the Jesuits, we will say, _en passant_, that
these clergy rendered immense services in America; that all the missions
thus founded in the desert prospered; that the Indians flocked in by
thousands to range themselves beneath their paternal laws: and that
certain missions, whose names we could quote were it necessary, counted
as many as sixty thousand neophytes; that, as a proof of the excellence
of their system, when the order was given them to give up their mission
to other monks, and withdraw, their proselytes implored them to resist
this unjust ostracism, and offered to defend them against everybody.
The Jesuits have the greater claim to this tardy justice we now seek to
do them in the fact that, in spite of the many years that have elapsed
since their departure, and although all the men they brought into the
bosom of the church by incessant labour have returned to a savage life,
the remembrance of the good deeds of these pious missionaries still
lives in the hearts of the Indians, and forms at night round the
campfires the staple of conversation, so deeply engraved on the minds of
these primitive beings is the small amount of kindness shown them.
Don Sylva de Torrés wished to reach the colony of Guetzalli again so
soon as possible, and by the most direct route. Unfortunately he was
obliged to cross, as the crow flies, a large extent of country through
which no road ran. Moreover, owing to his topographical ignorance of the
prairie, he was compelled to trust in Don Martial, an excellent guide in
every respect, whose sagacity and thorough knowledge of the desert he
did not for a moment doubt, but in whom he placed but slight confidence,
while unable to explain his motive even to himself.
Still the Tigrero (apparently at least) gave proofs of his entire
devotion to the hacendero, leading him by the most beaten tracks, making
him avoid difficult passages, and watching with unequalled care and
solicitude over the safety of his little band. Each evening at sunset
the party encamped on the top of an open hill, whence a large quantity
of ground could be surveyed, in order to guard against any surprise. On
the evening of the fourth day, after a fatiguing march over an irregular
tract, Don Martial reached a hill where he proposed to camp.
The hacendero greeted the offer with greater pleasure, for, being but
little accustomed to this mode of travelling, he felt extremely
fatigued. After a frugal meal, composed of maize tortillas, and frijoles
powdered with the hottest spices, and washed down with pulque, Don
Sylva, without even thinking of smoking a cigarette (his custom always
after a meal), wrapped himself in his zarapé, laid down with his feet
toward the fire, and fell off almost immediately into a profound sleep.
Don Martial and the young girl remained for some time silently opposite
each other, their eyes fixed on the hacendero, and uneasily watching the
phases of his sleep. At length, when the Tigrero was persuaded that Don
Sylva was really asleep, he bent over her, and muttered in her ear in a
gentle voice:--
"Pardon, Doña Anita, pardon!"
"For what?" she asked in surprise.
"Because you are suffering through me."
"Egotist!" she said with an enchanting smile, "it is not through myself
too, as I love you?"
"Oh, thank you!" he exclaimed. "You restore to my heart that courage
which I felt dying out. Alas! How will all this end?"
"Well, I am convinced," she said quickly. "We must be patient. My father
believe me, will soon change his opinion about you."
The Tigrero smiled sorrowfully.
"Still," he said, "I cannot carry you about the prairie indefinitely."
"That is true," she remarked despondently. "What is to be done?"
"I do not know. For the last two days we have only been moving round the
colony, from which we are scarce three leagues distant, and yet I cannot
resolve to enter it."
"Alas!" the girl murmured.
"Ah!" he continued, with a degree of animation in his glance, "Why is
this man your father, Doña Anita?"
"Speak not so, my friend," she said hurriedly, laying her little hand on
his mouth as if to prevent him saying more. "Why despair? God is good;
He will not fail us. We know not what He has in reserve for us: let us
place our trust in Him!"
"Still," he replied, shaking his head, "our position is not tenable. It
is impossible to go on at haphazard. Your father, in spite of his
ignorance of the country, will at length perceive I am deceiving him,
and I shall be hopelessly ruined in his opinion. On the other hand, by
proceeding to the colony, I place you in the hands once more of the man
you are forced to marry. I cannot resolve on doing this odious deed. Oh!
I would joyfully give ten years of my life to know how I ought to act."
At this moment, as if Heaven had heard his words, and hastened to reply
immediately, the Tigrero, whose eyes were mechanically fixed on the
prairie, which at this moment was buried in obscurity, saw a short
distance off, in the midst of the tall grass, a luminous point arise in
the air twice, tracing in its passage quaint parabolas. At the same
moment Don Martial's practised ear heard, or fancied it heard, the
suppressed snorting of a horse.
"It is extraordinary," he muttered, as if speaking to himself. "What can
it mean? Is it a signal? Still we are alone here. Through the whole of
the past day I have not caught sight of a single trail; but that
light--"
"What is the matter, my friend?" Doña Anita asked anxiously. "You seem
restless. Can any danger menace us? Speak! You know I am brave; and by
your side, what can I fear? Hide nothing from me. Something
extraordinary is taking place, is it not?"
"Well, yes," he replied, resolutely making up his mind, "something
extraordinary is really happening; but calm yourself, I do not believe
there is anything for you to fear."
"But what is it? I saw nothing."
"Stay: look there!" he said quickly, and stretched out his arm.
The girl looked attentively, and saw what the Tigrero had noticed a few
moments previously--a reddish dot sparkling in the gloom, and describing
interlaced lines.
"'Tis evidently a signal," the Tigrero went on. "Somebody is concealed
there."
"Do you expect anyone?" she asked him.
"No; and yet, I know not why, but I fancy that signal can only be
intended for me."
"Still recollect that we are in the prairie, and probably, without
suspecting it, surrounded by bands of Indian hunters. They may be
corresponding with each other by means of that light which we have seen
twice gleaming before our eyes."
"No, Doña Anita, you are mistaken. We are not, at any rate for the
present, surrounded by any Indians: we are quite alone."
"How can you know that, my friend, since you have not left us for a
moment to go and look for trails?"
"Doña Anita, my well beloved!" he said in a stern voice, "the prairie is
a book on which Heaven's secrets are written in ineffaceable letters,
which the man accustomed to desert life can read currently. The wind
passing through the branches, the bird flying through the air, the deer
or buffalo grazing on the tufted grass, the alligator slothfully
wallowing in the mud, are to me certain signs in which I cannot be
mistaken. For the last two days we have seen no Indian sign; the
buffaloes and other animals we have passed growled calmly and without
distrust; the flight of the birds was regular; the alligators almost
disappeared in the mud which covered them. All these animals scent the
approach of man, and especially of the Indian, for a considerable
distance, and so soon as they have done so, disappear at headlong speed,
so great is the terror with which the Lord of creation inspires them. I
repeat to you, we are alone here, quite alone here, and therefore that
signal is intended for me. See, there it is again!"
"It is true; I can see it!"
"I must know what the meaning of it is," he said, seizing his rifle.
"Oh, Don Martial, I implore you, take care! Be prudent. Think of me!"
she added in agony.
"Reassure yourself, Doña Anita. I am too old a wood ranger to let myself
be deceived by a clumsy trick. I shall return shortly."
And without listening further to the young girl, who tried to retain him
by her entreaties and tears, he proceeded to the slope of the hill,
which he descended rapidly, though with the utmost prudence. On arriving
in the prairie the Tigrero stopped to look around him. The party were
encamped about two arrow-shots from the Gila, nearly opposite a large
island, which is in reality only a rock, bearing some resemblance to the
human form, and which the Apaches call _the master of the life of man_.
In their excursions upon Indian territory the redskins never fail to
stop at this island and deposit their offerings, the ceremony consisting
in throwing into the water, with dancing, tobacco, hair, and birds
feathers. This rock, which offers a most striking appearance from the
distance, has two excavations in it more than 1200 feet in length, and
forty wide, the roof being of an arched form.
The fact which had aroused the Tigrero's curiosity, and caused him to
undertake the enterprise of discovery in the meaning of the signal, was
that it came from the island; and this he could not at all account for,
being aware that the Indians felt for the rock a veneration mingled with
a superstitious terror so great, that no Indian warrior however brave he
might be, would have dared to spend the night there. It was the
knowledge of this peculiarity which urged him to examine into the
mystery.
Tall and tufted grass grew profusely down to the river's edge. Concealed
by the thickly-growing mangroves and shrubs, intertwined in inextricable
confusion, the Tigrero glided cautiously down to the bank. So soon as he
reached it he let himself hang from a branch, and entered the water so
quietly that his immersion produced no sound.
Holding his rifle over his head to keep it out of the wet, the Tigrero
then swam with one hand in the direction of the island. The distance was
short: the Tigrero was a vigorous swimmer, and he soon reached the spot
where he wished to land. So soon as he was on the island he crawled
through the shrubs, listening to the slightest sounds, and trying to
pierce the darkness. He saw nothing, heard nothing; then he rose, and
walked toward one of the grottos, at the entrance of which he could see
a fire blazing from the spot where he stood: near it was seated a man,
smoking as quietly as if he had been seated before a pulquería at
Guaymas.
Don Martial, after attentively regarding this man, had difficulty in
repressing a shout of joy, and walked toward him without further attempt
at concealment. He had recognised his confidant, Cucharés, the lepero.
At the sound of his footfall Cucharés turned his head.
"You have come at last!" he exclaimed. "For more than an hour I have
been racking my brain in inventing fresh signs, to which you would not
deign a reply."
"Ah, my dear fellow," the Tigrero joyfully replied, "could I have
suspected it was you I should have been with you long ago; but I so
little expected you--"
"You are quite right, and in such a country as this it is better to be
prudent than not sufficiently so."
"Ah, ah! There is something new?" the Tigrero said, as he sat down to
the fire to dry his clothes.
"Caspita! If there was not, should I be here?"
"True: you are a good comrade, and I thank you for coming. You know that
I have a faithful memory."
"I know it."
"But come, what have you to tell me? I am anxious to hear all the news.
But, before beginning, one question."
"Well?"
"Is the news good?"
"Excellent; you shall judge."
"Caray! As it is so, take this ring, which I was not to have given till
our little affair was settled. But do not be frightened: when we balance
our account I shall find something to please you."
The lepero's eye glistened with joy and avarice; he seized the ring, and
sent it to join company with the one he received a few days previously.
"Thanks!" he said. "Heaven keep me! There is a pleasure in dealing with
you. You do not huckster, at any rate."
"Now for the news."
"Here it is, short and good. El señor conde, rendered desperate by the
disappearance of his betrothed, whom he supposes to have been carried
off by the Apaches, has quitted the hacienda at the head of his company,
and is now crossing the desert in every direction in pursuit of the
Black Bear."
"By all the saints! That is the best news you could bring me. And what
do you intend doing?"
"What! Did we not agree that _el conde_--"
"Of course," the Tigrero quickly interrupted him, "but to do that you
must find him, and that, I fancy, is not so easy now."
"On the contrary."
"How so?"
"Why, señor Don Martial, do you wish to insult me by taking me for a
_pavo_ (goose)?"
"By no means, gossip: still--"
"Still you believe it. Well, you are mistaken, caballero, and I am not
sorry to tell you so. During the very few hours which I spent at the
hacienda I made inquiries, and, as I announced myself the bearer of a
most important mission for _el señor conde_, no one made any bones
about answering me. It seems that the Apaches, instead of pushing on,
were so thoroughly beaten by the French (for whom, by the way, they feel
an enormous respect), that they are returning on the desert del Norte,
in order to regain their villages. The conde is pursuing them, is he
not?"
"You told me so."
"Well, in all probability he will not dare to enter the desert."
"Naturally," the Tigrero said with a shudder, in spite of his tried
courage.
"Well, then, he can only stop at one spot."
"At the Casa Grande!" Don Martial exclaimed quickly.
"Quite right! I am certain of finding him there."
"Body of me! Go there, then."
"I shall set out immediately after your departure."
The Tigrero looked at him in surprise.
"You're a fine fellow, Cucharés, on my soul!" he said presently. "I am
delighted to find that I made no mistake about you."
"What would you?" the scamp answered modestly while winking his little
grey eye. "The relations into which I entered with you are so agreeable
to me, that I can refuse you nothing."
The two men began laughing at this sally, which might have been in
better taste.
"Now that all is settled between us," Don Martial went on, "let us
part."
"How did you come here?"
"Can't you see? By swimming: and you?"
"On my horse. I would offer to land you again, but we are going in
opposite directions."
"For the present, yes."
"Do you intend to cross over there soon, then?"
"Probably," he said with an equivocal smile.
"In that case we shall soon meet again."
"I hope so."
"Stay, Don Martial. Now that your clothes are dry, I should not like you
to wet them again. Let us go and see if there be not a canoe about: you
know the Indians leave them everywhere."
The Tigrero entered the grotto, and found there a canoe, with its
paddles carefully balanced against the sides: he unscrupulously carried
it out on his shoulders.
"By the way," he said, "why the deuce did you give me the meeting here?"
"Not to be disturbed. Would you have liked anyone to overhear our
conversation?"
"I allow that. Good-by, then."
"Good-by."
The men separated--Cucharés to commence a long journey, and Don Martial
to return to his camping ground. But they were mistaken in supposing
that no one had overheard their conversation. They had scarce quitted
the island in different directions ere, from a thicket of dahlias and
floripondins growing at the entrance of the grotto, a hideous head was
thrust out cautiously, and looked around; then, at the end of a moment,
the bushes were further parted, and an Apache Indian, painted and armed
for war appeared. It was the Black Bear.
"Wah!" he muttered with a menacing gesture, "the palefaces are dogs. The
Apache warriors will follow their trail."
Then, after keeping his eyes fixed for a few instants on the
star-spangled sky, he entered the grotto.
In the meanwhile the Tigrero had regained the encampment. Doña Anita,
rendered restless by so long an absence, was awaiting him with the most
lively anxiety.
"Well?" she asked, running up as soon as she saw him.
"Good news?" he answered.
"Oh, I was so frightened!"
"I thank you. It was as I expected. The signal was intended for me."
"Then?"
"I found a friend, who gave me the means to quit the false position in
which we are."
"In what way?"
"Do not trouble yourself about anything, I repeat, but leave me to act."
The girl bowed submissively, and, in spite of the curiosity that
devoured her, retired without any further questioning into the _jacal_
of branches prepared for her. Don Martial, instead of sleeping, sat down
on the ground, folded arms on his chest, leaned against a tree, and
remained thus motionless till daybreak, plunged in deep and melancholy
thought. At sunrise the Tigrero shook off the effects of his night watch
and aroused his comrades. Ten minutes after the little party was _en
route_.
"Oh, oh!" the hacendero said, "You are very early this morning."
"Did you not notice that we did not even breakfast before starting, as
we usually do?"
"Of course I did."
"Do you know the reason? Because we shall breakfast at Guetzalli, where
we shall arrive in two hours at the latest."
"Ah, caramba!" the hacendero exclaimed, "you delight me with that news."
"I thought I should."
Doña Anita, on hearing him speak thus, had looked sorrowfully at Don
Martial; but seeing his face so calm, his smile so frank, she felt
suddenly reassured, and suspected that his silence of the previous night
intended some pleasant surprise for her.
As Don Martial had stated, two hours later they reached the colony. So
soon as they were perceived by the sentinels the isthmus drawbridge was
lowered, and they entered the hacienda, where they were received with
all possible politeness. Doña Anita, with her eyes constantly fixed on
the Tigrero, blushed and turned pale, understanding nothing of his
perfect calmness. They dismounted in the second courtyard before the
gate of honour.
"Where is the Count de Lhorailles?" asked the hacendero, surprised that
his future son-in-law had not merely neglected to come to meet him, but
was not there to receive him.
"My master will feel highly annoyed, when he hears of your arrival, at
not having been present to welcome you," replied the steward, breaking
out into profuse apologies.
"Is he absent?"
"Yes, señor."
"But he will soon return?"
"I hardly think so. The captain started in pursuit of the savages at the
head of his entire company."
This news was a thunderbolt for Don Sylva; but the Tigrero and Doña
Anita exchanged a glance of delight.