THE COMANCHES.
Loyal Heart and Belhumeur, concealed among the tufted branches of the
cork tree, were observing the Comanches.
The Indians depended upon the vigilance of their sentinels. Far from
suspecting that their enemies were so near them and were watching their
motions, they crouched or lay around the fires, eating or smoking
carelessly.
These savages, to the number of twenty-five, were dressed in their
buffalo robes, and painted in the most varied and fantastic manner. Most
of them had their faces covered with vermillion, others were entirely
black, with a long white stripe upon each cheek; they wore their
bucklers on their backs, with their bows and arrows, and near them lay
their guns.
By the number of wolves' tails fastened to their moccasins, and which
dragged on the ground behind them, it was easy to perceive that they
were all picked warriors, renowned in their tribe.
At some paces from the group, Eagle Head leant motionless against a
tree. With his arms crossed on his breast, and leaning gently forward,
he seemed to be listening to vague sounds, perceptible to himself alone.
Eagle Head was an Osage Indian; the Comanches had adopted him when quite
young, but he had always preserved the costume and manners of his nation.
He was, at most, twenty-eight years of age, nearly six feet high, and
his large limbs, upon which enormous muscles developed themselves,
denoted extraordinary strength.
Differing in this respect from his companions, he only wore a blanket
fastened round his loins, so as to leave his bust and his arms bare.
The expression of his countenance was handsome and noble; his black,
animated eyes, close to his aquiline nose, and his somewhat large mouth,
gave him a faint resemblance to a bird of prey. His hair was shaved
off, with the exception of a ridge upon the middle of his head, which
produced the effect of the crest of a helmet, and a long scalp lock, in
which was fixed a bunch of eagle's feathers, hung down behind him.
His face was painted of four different colours--blue, white, black, and
red; the wounds inflicted by him upon his enemies were marked in blue
upon his naked breast. Moccasins of untanned deerskin came up above his
knees, and numerous wolves' tails were fastened to his heels.
Fortunately for the hunters, the Indians were on the warpath, and had
no dogs with them; but for this, they would have been discovered long
before, and could not possibly have approached so near the camp.
In spite of his statue-like immobility, the eye of the chief sparkled,
his nostrils expanded, and he lifted his right arm mechanically, as if
to impose silence upon his warriors.
"We are scented," Loyal Heart murmured, in a voice so low that his
companion could hardly hear it.
"What is to be done?" Belhumeur replied.
"Act," said the trapper, laconically.
Both then glided silently from branch to branch, from tree to tree,
without touching the ground, till they reached the opposite side of
the camp, just above the place where the horses of the Comanches were
hobbled to graze.
Belhumeur descended softly, and cut the thongs that held them; and the
horses, excited by the whips of the hunters, rushed out, neighing and
kicking in all directions.
The Indians rose in disorder, and hastened, with loud cries, in pursuit
of their horses.
Eagle Head alone, as if he had guessed the spot where his enemies were
in ambush, directed his steps straight towards them, screening himself
as much as possible behind the trees which he passed.
The hunters drew back, step by step, looking carefully round them, so as
not to allow themselves to be encompassed.
The cries of the Indians grew fainter in the distance; they were all in
eager pursuit of their horses.
The chief found himself alone in presence of his two enemies.
On arriving at a tree whose enormous trunk appeared to guarantee the
desired safety, disdaining to use his gun, and the opportunity seeming
favourable, he adjusted an arrow on his bowstring. But whatever might
be his prudence and address, he could not make this movement without
discovering himself a little. Loyal Heart raised his gun, the trigger
was pressed, the ball whizzed, and the chief bounded into the air
uttering a howl of rage, and fell upon the ground.
His arm was broken.
The two hunters were already by his side.
"Not a movement, redskin," Loyal Heart said to him; "not a movement, or
you are a dead man!"
The Indian remained motionless, apparently stoical, but devouring his
rage.
"I could kill you," the hunter continued; "but I am not willing to do
so. This is the second time I have given you your life, chief, but it
will be the last. Cross my path no more, and, remember, do not steal my
traps again; if you do, I swear I will grant you no mercy."
"Eagle Head is a chief renowned among the men of his tribe," the Indian
replied, haughtily; "he does not fear death; the white hunter may kill
him, he will not hear him complain."
"No, I will not kill you, chief; my God forbids the shedding of human
blood unnecessarily."
"Wah!" said the Indian, with an ironical smile, "my brother is a
missionary."
"No, I am an honest trapper, and do not wish to be an assassin."
"My brother speaks the words of old women," the Indian continued; "Nehu
mutah never pardons, he takes vengeance."
"You will do as you please, chief," the hunter replied, shrugging his
shoulders contemptuously, "I have no intention of trying to change your
nature; only remember you are warned--farewell!"
"And the devil admire you!" Belhumeur added, giving him a contemptuous
shove with his foot.
The chief appeared insensible even to this fresh insult, save that his
brows contracted slightly. He did not stir, but followed his enemies
with an implacable look, while they, without troubling themselves
further about him, plunged into the forest.
"You may say what you like, Loyal Heart," said Belhumeur, "but you are
wrong, you ought to have killed him."
"Bah! what for?" the hunter asked, carelessly.
"_Cascaras!_ what for? Why, there would have been one head of vermin the
less in the prairie."
"Where there are so many," said the other, "one more or less cannot
signify much."
"Humph! that's true!" Belhumeur replied, apparently convinced; "but
where are we going now?"
"To look after our traps, _caramba!_ do you think I will lose them?"
"Humph! that's a good thought."
The hunters advanced in the direction of the camp, but in the Indian
fashion--that is to say, by making numberless turnings and windings
intended to throw out the Comanches.
After progressing in this way for twenty minutes, they arrived at the
camp. The Indians had not yet returned; but in all probability, it would
not be long before they did so. All their baggage was scattered about.
Two or three horses, which had not felt disposed to run away, were
browsing quietly on the peavines.
Without losing time, the hunters set about collecting their traps, which
was soon done. Each loaded himself with five, and, without further
delay, they resumed the way to the cavern where they had concealed their
horses.
Notwithstanding the tolerably heavy weight they carried on their
shoulders, the two men marched lightly, much pleased at having so
happily terminated their expedition, and laughing at the trick they had
played the Indians.
They had gone on thus for some time, and could already hear the murmur
of the distant waters of the river, when, all at once, the neighing of a
horse struck their ears.
"We are pursued," said Loyal Heart, stopping.
"Hum!" Belhumeur remarked, "it is, perhaps, a wild horse."
"No; a wild horse does not neigh in that manner; it is the Comanches;
but we can soon know," he added, as he threw himself down to listen, and
placed his ear close to the ground.
"I was sure of it," he said, rising almost immediately; "it is the
Comanches; but they are not following a full track--they are hesitating."
"Or perhaps their march is retarded by the wound of Eagle Head."
"That's possible! Oh, oh! do they fancy themselves capable of catching
us, if we wished to escape from them?"
"Ah! if we were not loaded, that would soon be done."
Loyal Heart reflected a minute.
"Come," he said, "we have still half an hour, and that is more than we
want."
A rivulet flowed at a short distance from them; the hunter entered its
bed with his companion, who followed all his movements.
When he arrived in the middle of the stream, Loyal Heart carefully
wrapped up the traps in a buffalo skin, that no moisture might come to
them, and then he allowed them quietly to drop to the bottom of the
stream.
This precaution taken, the hunters crossed the rivulet, and made a false
trail of about two hundred paces, and afterwards returned cautiously
so as not to leave a print that might betray their return. They then
re-entered the forest, after having, with a gesture, sent the dogs to
the horses. The intelligent animals obeyed, and soon disappeared in the
darkness.
This resolution to send away the dogs was useful in assisting to throw
the Indians off the track, for they could scarcely miss following the
traces left by the bloodhounds in the high grass.
Once in the forest, the hunters again climbed up a tree, and began
to advance between heaven and earth--a mode of travelling much more
frequently used than is believed in Europe, in this country where it is
often impossible, on account of the underwood and the trees, to advance
without employing an axe to clear a passage.
It is possible, by thus passing from branch to branch, to travel leagues
together without touching the ground.
It was exactly thus, only for another cause, that our hunters acted at
this moment.
They advanced in this fashion before their enemies, who drew nearer and
nearer, and they soon perceived them under them, marching in Indian
file, that is to say, one behind another, and following their track
attentively.
Eagle Head came first, half lying upon his horse, on account of his
wound, but more animated than ever in pursuit of his enemies.
When the Comanches passed them, the two trappers gathered themselves up
among the leaves, holding their breath. The most trifling circumstance
would have sufficed to proclaim their presence. The Indians passed
without seeing them. The hunters resumed their leafy march.
"Ouf!" said Belhumeur, at the end of a minute. "I think we have got rid
of them this time!"
"Do not cry before you are out of the wood, but let us get on as fast as
we can; these demons of redskins are cunning, they will not long be the
dupes of our stratagem."
"_Sacrebleu!_" the Canadian suddenly exclaimed, "I have let my knife
fall, I don't know where; if these devils find it, we are lost."
"Most likely," Loyal Heart murmured; "the greater reason then for not
losing a single minute."
In the meantime, the forest, which till then had been calm, began all at
once to grow excited, the birds flew about uttering cries of terror, and
in the thick underwood they could hear the dry branches crack under the
hurried footfalls of the wild animals.
"What's going on now?" said Loyal Heart, stopping, and looking round him
with uneasiness; "the forest appears to be turned topsy-turvey!"
The hunters sprang up to the top of the tree in which they were, and
which happened to be one of the loftiest in the forest.
An immense light tinged the horizon at about a league from the spot
where they were; this light increased every minute, and advanced towards
them with giant strides.
"Curses on them!" cried Belhumeur, "the Comanches have fired the
prairie!"
"Yes, and I believe this time that, as you said just now, we are lost,"
Loyal Heart replied coolly.
"What's to be done?" said the Canadian, "in an instant we shall be
surrounded."
Loyal Heart reflected seriously.
At the end of a few seconds he raised his head, and a smile of triumph
curled the corners of his mouth.
"They have not got us yet," he replied; "follow me, my brother;" and he
added in a low voice, "I must see my mother again!"