THE PRESERVER.
In order to make the reader comprehend the position of the hunters, it
is necessary to return to the Comanche chief.
Scarce had his enemies disappeared among the trees, ere Eagle Head
raised himself softly up, bent his body forward, and listened to
ascertain if they were really departing. As soon as he had acquired that
certainty, he tore off a morsel of his blanket with which he wrapped up
his arm as well as he could, and, in spite of the weakness produced by
loss of blood and the pain he suffered, he set off resolutely on the
trail of the hunters.
He accompanied them, thus himself unseen, to the limits of the camp.
There, concealed behind an ebony tree, he witnessed, without being able
to prevent it, though boiling with rage, the search made by the hunters
for their traps, and, at length, their departure after recovering them.
Although the bloodhounds which the hunters had with them were excellent
dogs, trained to scent an Indian from a distance, by a providential
chance, which probably saved the life of the Comanche chief, they
had fallen upon the remains of the repast of the redskins, and their
masters, not dreaming that they were watched, did not think of
commanding their vigilance.
The Comanches at length regained their camp, after having, with infinite
difficulty, succeeded in catching their horses.
The sight of their wounded chief caused them great surprise, and still
greater anger, of which Eagle Head took advantage to send them all
off again in pursuit of the hunters, who, retarded by the traps they
carried, could not be far off, and must inevitably fall speedily into
their hands.
They had been but for an instant the dupes of the stratagem invented by
Loyal Heart, and had not been long in recognising, on the first trees of
the forest unequivocal traces of the passage of their enemies.
At this moment, Eagle Head, ashamed of being thus held in check by two
determined men, whose cunning, superior to his own, deceived all his
calculations, resolved to put an end to them at once, by carrying into
execution the diabolical project of setting fire to the forest; a means
which, according to the manner in which he meant to employ it, must, he
did not doubt, at length deliver his formidable adversaries up to him.
In consequence, dispersing his warriors in various directions, so as
to form a vast circle, he ordered the high grass to be set on fire in
various places simultaneously.
The idea, though barbarous and worthy of the savage warriors who
employed it, was a good one. The hunters, after having vainly
endeavoured to escape from the network of flame which encompassed them
on all sides, would be obliged, in spite of themselves, if they did
not prefer being burnt alive, to surrender quietly to their ferocious
enemies.
Eagle Head had calculated and foreseen everything, except the most easy
and most simple thing, the only chance of safety that would be left to
Loyal Heart and his companions.
As we have said, at the command of their chief the warriors had
dispersed, and had lighted the conflagration at several points
simultaneously.
At this advanced season of the year, the plants and grass, parched by
the incandescent rays of the summer's sun, were immediately in a blaze,
and the fire extended in all directions with frightful rapidity.
Not, however, so quickly as not to allow a certain time to elapse before
it united.
Loyal Heart had not hesitated. Whilst the Indians were running like
demons around the barrier of flame they had just opposed to their
enemies, and were uttering yells of joy, the hunter, followed by his
friend, had rushed at full speed between two walls of fire, which from
right and left advanced upon him, hissing, and threatening to unite at
once above his head and beneath his feet. Amidst calcined trees which
fell with a crash, blinded by clouds of thick smoke which stopped their
respiration, burnt by showers of sparks which poured upon them from
all parts, following boldly their course beneath a vault of flame, the
intrepid adventurers had cleared, at the cost of a few trifling burns,
the accursed enclosure in which the Indians had thought to bury them
for ever, and were already far from the enemies who were congratulating
themselves upon the success of their artful and barbarous plan.
The conflagration, in the meantime, assumed formidable proportions; the
forest shrivelled up under the grasp of the fire; the prairie was but
one sheet of flame, in the midst of which the wild animals, driven from
their dens and lairs by this unexpected catastrophe, ran about, mad with
terror.
The sky gleamed with blood-red reflections, and an impetuous wind swept
before it both flames and smoke.
The Indians themselves were terrified at their own handiwork, on seeing
around them entire mountains lighted up like baleful beacons; the earth
became hot, and immense troops of buffalos made the ground tremble with
their furious course, while they uttered those bellowings of despair
which fill with terror the hearts of the bravest men.
In the camp of the Mexicans everything was in the greatest disorder;
it was all noise and frightful confusion. The horses had broken their
shackles, and fled away in all directions; the men seized their arms and
ammunition; others carried the saddles and packages.
Everyone was crying, swearing, commanding--all were running about the
camp as if they had been struck with madness.
The fire continued to advance majestically, swallowing up everything in
its passage, preceded by a countless number of animals of all kinds,
who bounded along with howls of fear, pursued by the scourge which
threatened to overtake them at every step.
A thick smoke, laden with sparks, was already passing over the camp of
the Mexicans; twenty minutes more and all would be over with them.
The general, pressing his niece in his arms, in vain demanded of the
guides the best means of avoiding the immense peril which threatened
them.
But these men, terrified by the imminence of the peril, had lost all
self-possession. And then, what remedy could be employed? The flames
formed an immense circle, of which the camp had become the centre.
The strong breeze, however, which up to that moment had kept alive the
conflagration, by lending it wings, sank all at once.
There was not a breath of air.
The progress of the fire slackened.
Providence granted these unhappy creatures a few minutes more.
At this moment the camp presented a strange aspect.
All the men, struck with terror, had lost the sense even of
self-preservation.
The _lanceros_ confessed to each other.
The guides were plunged in gloomy despair.
The general accused Heaven of his misfortune.
As for the doctor, he only regretted the plant he could not discover;
with him every other consideration yielded to that.
Doña Luz, with her hands clasped, and her knees on the ground, was
praying fervently.
The fire continued to approach, with its vanguard of wild beasts.
"Oh!" cried the general, shaking the arm of the guide violently, "will
you leave us to be burnt thus, without making an effort to save us?"
"What can be done against the will of God?" the Babbler replied,
stoically.
"Are there no means, then, of preserving us from death?"
"None!"
"There is one!" a man cried, who, with a scorched face, and half-burnt
hair, rushed into the camp, climbing over the baggage, and followed by
another individual.
"Who are you?" the general exclaimed.
"That is of little consequence," the stranger replied, drily; "I come to
save you! My companion and I were out of danger; to succour you we have
braved unheard-of perils--that should satisfy you. Your safety is in
your own hands; you have only to will it."
"Command!" the general replied, "I will be the first to give you the
example of obedience."
"Have you no guides with you, then?"
"Certainly we have," said the general.
"Then they are traitors or cowards, for the means I am about to employ
are known to everybody in the prairie."
The general darted a glance of mistrust at the Babbler, who had not been
able to suppress an appearance of disagreeable surprise at the sudden
coming of the two strangers.
"Well," said the hunter, "that is an account you can settle with them
hereafter; we have something else to think of now."
The Mexicans at the sight of this determined man, with his sharp
impressive language, had instinctively beheld a preserver; they felt
their courage revive with hope, and held themselves ready to execute his
orders with promptness.
"Be quick!" said the hunter, "and pull up all the grass that surrounds
the camp."
Everyone set to work at once.
"For our part," the stranger continued, addressing the general, "we will
take wetted blankets and spread them in front of the baggage."
The general, the captain, and the doctor, under the directions of the
hunter, did as he desired, whilst his companion lassoed the horses and
the mules, and hobbled them in the centre of the camp.
"Be quick! be quick!" the hunter cried incessantly, "the fire gains upon
us!"
Everyone redoubled his exertions, and, in a short time a large space was
cleared.
Doña Luz surveyed with admiration this strange man, who had suddenly
appeared among them in such a providential manner, and who, amidst the
horrible danger that enveloped them, was as calm and self-possessed as
if he had had the power to command the awful scourge which continued to
advance upon them with giant strides.
The maiden could not take her eyes off him; in spite of herself,
she felt attracted towards this unknown preserver, whose voice,
gestures,--his whole person, in short, interested her.
When the grass and herbs had been pulled up with that feverish rapidity
which men in fear of death display in all they do, the hunter smiled
calmly.
"Now," he said, addressing the Mexicans, "the rest concerns me and my
friend; leave us to act as we think proper; wrap yourselves carefully in
damp blankets."
Everyone followed his directions.
The stranger cast a glance around him, and then after making a sign to
his friend, walked straight towards the fire.
"I shall not quit you," the general said, earnestly.
"Come on, then," the stranger replied, laconically.
When they reached the extremity of the space where the grass had been
pulled up, the hunter made a heap of plants and dry wood with his feet,
and scattering a little gunpowder over it, he set fire to the mass.
"What are you doing?" the general exclaimed, in amazement.
"As you see, I make fire fight against fire," the hunter replied,
quietly.
His companion had acted in the same manner in an opposite direction.
A curtain of flames arose rapidly around them, and, for some minutes,
the camp was almost concealed beneath a vault of fire.
A quarter of an hour of terrible anxiety and intense expectation ensued.
By degrees the flames became less fierce, the air more pure; the smoke
dispersed, the roarings of the conflagration diminished.
At length they were able to recognise each other in this horrible chaos.
A sigh of relief burst from every breast.
The camp was saved!
The conflagration, whose roaring became gradually more dull, conquered
by the hunter, went to convey destruction in other directions.
Everyone rushed towards the stranger to thank him.
"You have saved the life of my niece," said the general warmly; "how
shall I discharge my debt to you?"
"You owe me nothing, sir," the hunter replied, with noble simplicity;
"in the prairie all men are brothers; I have only performed my duty by
coming to your assistance."
As soon as the first moments of joy were past, and the camp had been
put in a little order, everyone felt the necessity for repose after the
terrible anxieties of the night.
The two strangers, who had constantly repulsed modestly, but firmly,
the advances the general had made in the warmth of his gratitude, threw
themselves carelessly on the baggage for a few hours' rest.
A little before dawn they arose.
"The earth must be cool by this time," said the hunter: "let us be gone
before these people wake; perhaps they would not wish us to leave them
so."
"Let us be gone!" the other replied laconically.
At the moment he was about to pass over the boundary of the camp, a hand
was laid lightly upon the shoulder of the elder. He turned round, and
Doña Luz was before him.
The two men stopped and bowed respectfully to the young lady.
"Are you going to leave us?" she asked in a soft and melodious voice.
"We must, señorita," the hunter replied.
"I understand," she said with a charming smile; "now that, thanks to
you, we are saved, you have nothing more to do here,--is it not so?"
The two men bowed without replying.
"Grant me a favour," she said.
"Name it, señorita."
She took from her neck a little diamond cross she wore.
"Keep this, in remembrance of me."
The hunter hesitated.
"I beg you to do so," she murmured in an agitated voice.
"I accept it, señorita," the hunter said, as he placed the cross upon
his breast close to his scapulary; "I shall have another talisman to add
to that which my mother gave me."
"Thank you," the girl replied joyfully; "one word more?"
"Speak it, lady."
"What are your names?"
"My companion is called Belhumeur."
"But yourself?"
"Loyal Heart."
After bowing a second time, in sign of farewell, the two hunters
departed at a quick pace, and soon disappeared in the darkness.
Doña Luz looked after them as long as she could perceive them, and then
returned slowly and pensively towards her tent, repeating to herself in
a low but earnest tone,--
"Loyal Heart! Oh! I shall remember that name."