THE PHANTOM.
It was about eight o'clock in the morning, a cheering autumn sun lit up
the prairie splendidly.
Birds flew hither and thither, uttering strange cries, whilst others,
concealed under the thickest of the foliage, poured forth melodious
concerts. Now and then a deer raised its timid head above the tall
grass, and then disappeared with a bound.
Two horsemen, clothed in the costume of wood rangers, mounted upon
magnificent half wild horses, were following, at a brisk trot, the
left bank of the great Canadian river, whilst several bloodhounds,
with glossy black skins, and eyes and chests stained with red, ran and
gambolled around them.
These horsemen were Loyal Heart and his friend Belhumeur.
Contrary to his usual deportment, Loyal Heart seemed affected by the
most lively joy, his countenance beamed with cheerfulness, and he looked
around him with complacency. Sometimes he would stop, and looked out
ahead, appearing anxiously to seek in the horizon some object he could
not yet discern. Then, with an expression of vexation, he resumed his
journey, to repeat a hundred paces further on the same manoeuvre.
"Ah, parbleu!" said Belhumeur, laughing, "we shall get there in good
time. Be quiet, do!"
"Eh, _caramba!_ I know that well enough; but I long to be there! For
me, the only hours of happiness that God grants me, are passed with her
whom we are going to see--my mother, my beloved mother! who gave up
everything for me, abandoned all without regret, without hesitation.
Oh, what happiness it is to have a mother! to possess one heart which
understands yours, which makes a complete abnegation of self to absorb
itself in you; which lives in your existence, rejoices in your joys,
sorrows in your sorrows; which divides your life into two parts,
reserving to itself the heaviest and leaving you the lightest and the
most easy! Oh, Belhumeur, to comprehend what that divine being is,
composed of devotedness and love, and called a mother, it is necessary
to have been, as I was, deprived of her for long years, and then
suddenly to have found her again, more loving, more adorable than ever!
How slowly we get on! Every moment of delay is a kiss of my mother's
which time steals from me! Shall we never get there?"
"Well! here we are at the ford."
"I don't know why, but a secret fear has suddenly fallen upon my
spirits, an undefinable presentiment makes me tremble in spite of
myself."
"Oh, nonsense! Send such black thoughts to the winds; in a few minutes,
we shall be with your mother!"
"That is true! And yet I don't know whether I am mistaken, but it seems
to me as if the country does not wear its usual aspect; this silence
which reigns around us, and this solitude which environs us, do not
appear to be natural. We are close to the village, we ought already to
hear the barking of the dogs, the crowing of the cocks, and the thousand
noises that proclaim inhabited places."
"Well," said Belhumeur, with vague uneasiness, "I must confess that
everything seems strangely silent around us."
The travellers came to a spot where the river makes a sharp curve;
being deeply embanked, and skirted by immense blocks of rock and thick
copsewood, it did not allow any extensive view.
The village towards which the travellers were directing their course,
was scarcely a gunshot from the ford where they were preparing to cross
the river, but it was completely invisible, owing to the peculiar nature
of the country.
At the moment the horses placed their feet in the water, they made a
sudden movement backwards, and the bloodhounds uttered one of those
plaintive howlings peculiar to their race, which freeze the bravest man
with terror.
"What does this mean?" Loyal Heart exclaimed, turning pale as death, and
casting round a terrified glance.
"Look here!" replied Belhumeur, pointing with his finger to several dead
bodies which the river was carrying away, and which glided along near
the surface.
"Oh!" cried Loyal Heart, "something terrible has taken place here. My
mother! my mother!"
"Do not alarm yourself so," said Belhumeur; "no doubt she is in safety."
Without listening to the consolations his friend poured out, though he
did not believe in them himself Loyal Heart drove the spurs into his
horse's flanks, and sprang into the water.
They soon gained the opposite bank, and there all was explained.
They had before them the most awful scene that can possibly be imagined.
The village and the fort were a heap of ruins.
A black, thick, sickening smoke ascended in long wreaths towards the
heavens.
In the centre of what had been the village, arose a mast against which
were nailed human fragments, for which _urubus_ were contending with
loud cries.
Here and there lay bodies half devoured by wild beasts.
No living being appeared.
Nothing remained intact--everything was either broken, displaced, or
overthrown. It was evident, at the first glance, that the Indians had
passed there, with their sanguinary rage and their inveterate hatred of
the whites. Their steps were deeply imprinted in letters of fire and
blood.
"Oh!" the hunter cried shuddering, "my presentiments were a warning
from Heaven;--my mother! my mother!"
Loyal Heart fell upon the ground in utter despair; he concealed his face
in his hands and wept.
The grief of this high-spirited man, endowed with a courage proof
against all trials, and whom no danger could surprise, was like that of
the lion, it had something terrific in it.
His sobs were like roarings, they rent his breast.
Belhumeur respected the grief of his friend--indeed what consolation
could he offer him? It was better to allow his tears to flow, and give
the first paroxysm of despair time to calm itself; certain that his
unyielding nature could not long be cast down, and that a reaction would
soon come, which would permit him to act.
Still, with that instinct innate to hunters, he began to look about on
all sides, in the hope of finding some indication which might afterwards
serve to direct their researches.
After wandering for a long time about the ruins, he was suddenly
attracted towards a large bush at a little distance from him by barkings
which he thought he recognised.
He advanced towards it precipitately; a bloodhound like their own jumped
up joyfully upon him, and covered him with wild caresses.
"Oh, oh!" said the hunter, "what does this mean? Who has tied poor Trim
up in this fashion?"
He cut the rope which fastened the animal, and, in doing so, perceived
that a piece of carefully folded paper was tied to its neck.
He seized it, and running to Loyal Heart, exclaimed:
"Brother! brother! Hope! Hope!"
The hunter knew his brother was not a man to waste vulgar consolations
upon him; he raised his tear-bathed face towards him.
As soon as it was free, the dog fled away with incredible velocity,
baying with the dull, short yelps of a bloodhound following the scent.
Belhumeur, who had foreseen this flight, had hastened to tie his cravat
round the animal's neck.
"No one knows what it may lead to," murmured the hunter, on seeing the
dog disappear.
And after this philosophical reflection he went to join his friend.
"What is the matter?" Loyal Heart asked.
"Read!" Belhumeur quietly replied.
The hunter seized the paper, which he read eagerly. It contained only
these few words:--
"We are prisoners of the redskins. Courage! Nothing of any significance
has happened to your mother."
"God be praised!" said Loyal Heart with great emotion, kissing the
paper, which he concealed in his breast. "My mother still lives! Oh, I
shall find her again!"
"Pardieu! that you will," said Belhumeur in a tone of conviction.
A complete change, as if by enchantment, had taken place in the mind
of the hunter; he drew himself up to his full height, his brow became
expanded and clear.
"Let us commence our researches," he said; "perhaps one of the
unfortunate inhabitants has escaped death, and we may learn from him
what has taken place."
"That's well," said Belhumeur joyfully; "that's the way. Let us search."
The dogs were scratching with fury among the ruins of the fort.
"Let us commence there," said Loyal Heart.
Both set to work to clear away the rubbish. They worked with an ardour
incomprehensible to themselves. At the end of twenty minutes they
discovered a sort of trapdoor, and heard weak and inarticulate cries
arise from beneath it.
"They are here," said Belhumeur.
"God grant we may be in time to save them."
It was not till after a length of time, and with infinite trouble,
that they succeeded in raising the trap, and then a horrid spectacle
presented itself.
In a cellar exhaling a fetid odour, a score of individuals were
literally piled up one upon another.
The hunters could not repress a movement of terror, and drew back in
spite of themselves; but they immediately--returned to the edge of the
cellar, to endeavour, if there were yet time, to save some of those
unhappy victims.
Of all these men, one alone showed signs of life; all the rest were dead.
They dragged him out, laid him gently on a heap of dry leaves, and gave
him every assistance in their power.
The dogs licked the hands and face of the wounded man.
At the end of a few minutes the man made a slight movement, opened his
eyes several times, and then breathed a profound sigh.
Belhumeur introduced between his clenched teeth the mouth of a leathern
bottle filled with rum, and obliged him to swallow a few drops of the
liquor.
"He is very bad," said the hunter.
"He is past recovery," Loyal Heart replied, shaking his head.
Nevertheless the wounded man revived a little.
"My God," said he, in a weak and broken voice, "I am dying! I feel I am
dying!"
"Hope!" said Belhumeur, kindly.
A fugitive tinge passed across the pale cheeks of the wounded man, and a
sad smile curled the corners of his lips.
"Why should I live?" he murmured. "The Indians have massacred all my
companions, after having horribly mutilated them. Life would be too
heavy a burden for me."
"If, before you die, you wish anything to be done that is in our power
to do, speak, and by the word of hunters, we will do it."
The eyes of the dying man flashed faintly.
"Your gourd," he said to Belhumeur.
The latter gave it to him, and he drank greedily. His brow was covered
with a moist perspiration, and a feverish redness inflamed his
countenance, which assumed a frightful expression.
"Listen," said he, in a hoarse and broken voice. "I was commander here;
the Indians, aided by a wretched half-breed, who sold us to them,
surprised the village."
"The name of that man?" the hunter said, eagerly.
"He is dead--I killed him!" the captain replied, with an inexpressible
accent of hatred and joy. "The Indians endeavoured to gain possession
of the fort; the contest was terrible. We were twelve men against four
hundred savages; what could we do? Fight to the death--that was what we
resolved on doing. The Indians, finding the impossibility of taking us
alive, cast the colonists of the village in among us, after cutting off
their hands and scalping them, and then set fire to the fort."
The wounded man, whose voice grew weaker and weaker, and whose words
were becoming unintelligible, swallowed a few more drops of the liquor,
and then continued his recital, which was eagerly listened to by the
hunters.
"A cave, which served as a cellar, extended under the ditches of the
fort. When I knew that all means of safety had escaped, and that flight
was impossible, I led my unfortunate companions into this cave, hoping
that God would permit us to be thus saved. A few minutes after, the fort
fell down over us! No one can imagine the tortures we have suffered in
this infected hole, without air or light. The cries of the wounded--and
we were all so, more or less--screaming for water, and the rattle of
the dying, formed a terrible concert that no pen can describe. Our
sufferings, already intolerable, were further increased by the want of
air; a sort of furious madness took possession of us; we fought one
against another; and, in there under a mass of burnt ruins, commenced a
hideous combat, which could only terminate by the death of all engaged
in it. How long did it last? I cannot tell. I was already sensible that
the death which had carried off all my companions was about to take
possession of me, when you came to retard it for a few minutes. God be
praised! I shall not die without vengeance."
After these words, pronounced in a scarcely articulate voice, there was
a funereal silence among these three men--a silence interrupted only by
the dull rattle in the throat of the dying man, whose agony had begun.
All at once the captain made a strong effort; he raised himself up, and
fixing his bloodshot eyes upon the hunters, said,--
"The savages who attacked me belong to the nation of the Comanches;
their chief is named Eagle Head; swear to avenge me like loyal hunters."
"We swear to do so," the two men cried, in a firm tone.
"Thanks," the captain murmured, and falling back he remained motionless.
He was dead.
His distorted features and his open eyes still preserved the expression
of hatred and despair which had animated him to the last.
The hunters surveyed him for an instant, and then, shaking off this
painful impression, they set about the duty of paying the last honours
to the remains of the unfortunate victims of Indian rage.
By the last rays of the setting sun, they completed the melancholy task
which they had imposed upon themselves.
After a short rest, Loyal Heart arose, and saddling his horse, said,--
"Now, brother, let us place ourselves on the trail of Eagle Head."
"Come on," the hunter replied.
The two men cast around them a long and sad farewell glance, and
whistling their dogs, they boldly entered the forest, in the depths of
which the Comanches had disappeared.
At this moment the moon arose amidst an ocean of vapour, and profusely
scattered her melancholy beams upon the ruins of the American village,
in which solitude and death were doomed to reign for ever.