THE BARGAIN.
Indians and wood rangers have two languages, of which they make use by
turns, according to circumstances--spoken language, and the language of
gestures.
Like the spoken language, the language of signs has, in America,
infinite fluctuations; everyone, so to say, invents his own. It is
a compound of strange and mysterious gestures, a kind of masonic
telegraph, the signs of which, varying at will, are only comprehensible
to a small number of adepts.
The Babbler and his companion were conversing in signs.
This singular conversation lasted nearly an hour; it appeared to
interest the speakers warmly; so warmly, indeed, that they did not
remark, in spite of all the precautions they had taken not to be
surprised, two fiery eyes that, from the middle of a tuft of underwood,
were fixed upon them with strange intenseness.
At length the Babbler, risking the utterance of a few words, said, "I
await your good pleasure."
"And you shall not wait it long," the other replied.
"I depend upon you, Kennedy; for my part, I have fulfilled my promise."
"That's well! that's well! We don't require many words to come to an
understanding," said Kennedy, shrugging his shoulders; "only you need
not have conducted them to so strong a position--it will not be very
easy to surprise them."
"That's your concern," said the Babbler, with an evil smile.
His companion looked at him for a moment with great attention.
"Hum," said he; "beware, _compadre_, it is almost always awkward to play a
double game with men like us."
"I am playing no double game; but I think you and I have known each
other a pretty considerable time, Kennedy, have we not?"
"What follows?"
"What follows? Well! I am not disposed that a thing should happen to me
again that has happened before, that's all."
"Do you draw back, or are you thinking about betraying us?"
"I do not draw back, and I have not the least intention of betraying
you, only----"
"Only?" the other repeated.
"This time I will not give up to you what I have promised till my
conditions have been agreed to pretty plainly; if not, no----"
"Well, at least that's frank."
"People should speak plainly in business affairs," the Babbler observed,
shaking his head.
"That's true! Well, come, repeat the conditions; I will see if we can
accept them."
"What's the good of that? You are not the principal chief, are you?"
"No:--but--yet----"
"You could pledge yourself to nothing--so it's of no use. If
Waktehno--he who kills--were here now, it would be quite another thing.
He and I should soon understand one another."
"Speak then, he is listening to you," said a strong, sonorous voice.
There was a movement in the bushes, and the personage who, up to that
moment, had remained an invisible hearer of the conversation of the
two men, judged, without doubt, that the time to take a part in it
was arrived, for, with a bound, he sprang out of the bushes that had
concealed him, and placed himself between the speakers.
"Oh! oh! you were listening to us, Captain Waktehno, were you?" said the
Babbler without being the least discomposed.
"Is that unpleasant to you?" the newcomer asked, with an ironical smile.
"Oh! not the least in the world."
"Continue, then, my worthy friend--I am all ears."
"Well," said the guide, "it will, perhaps, be better so."
"Go on, then--speak; I attend to you."
The personage to whom the Babbler gave the terrible Indian name of
Waktehno was a man of pure white race, thirty years of age, of lofty
stature, and well proportioned, handsome in appearance, and wearing
with a certain dashing carelessness the picturesque costume of the wood
rangers. His features were noble, strongly marked, and impressed with
that loyal and haughty expression so often met with among men accustomed
to the rude, free life of the prairies.
He fixed his large, black, brilliant eyes upon the Babbler, a mysterious
smile curled his lips, and he leant carelessly upon his rifle whilst
listening to the guide.
"If I cause the people I am paid to escort and conduct to fall into
your hands, you may depend upon it I will not do so unless I am amply
recompensed," said the bandit.
"That is but fair," Kennedy remarked; "and the captain is ready to
assure your being so recompensed."
"Yes," said the other, nodding his head in sign of agreement.
"Very well," the guide resumed. "But what will be my recompense?"
"What do you ask?" the captain said. "We must know what your conditions
are before we agree to satisfy them."
"Oh! my terms are very moderate."
"Well, but what are they?"
The guide hesitated, or, rather, he calculated mentally the chances of
gain and loss the affair offered; then in an instant, he replied:
"These Mexicans are very rich."
"Probably," said the captain.
"Therefore it appears to me----"
"Speak without tergiversation, Babbler; we have not time to listen to
your circumlocutions. Like all half-bloods, the Indian nature always
prevails in you, and you never come frankly to the purpose."
"Well, then," the guide bluntly replied, "I will have five thousand
duros, or nothing shall be done."
"For once you speak out; now we know what we have to trust to; you
demand five thousand dollars?"
"I do."
"And for that sum you agree to deliver up to us, the general, his niece,
and all the individuals who accompany them."
"At your first signal."
"Very well! Now listen to what I am going to say to you."
"I listen."
"You know me, do you not?"
"Perfectly."
"You know dependence is to be placed upon my word?"
"It is as good as gold."
"That's well. If you loyally fulfil the engagements you freely make with
me, that is to say, deliver up to me, not all the Mexicans who comprise
your caravan, very respectable people no doubt, but for whom I care very
little, but only the girl, called, I think, Doña Luz, I will not give
you five thousand dollars as you ask, but eight thousand--you understand
me, do you not?"
The eyes of the guide sparkled with greediness and cupidity.
"Yes!" he said emphatically.
"That's well."
"But it will be a difficult matter to draw her out of the camp alone."
"That's your affair."
"I should prefer giving them all up in a lump."
"Go to the devil! What could I do with them?"
"Hum! what will the general say?"
"What he likes; that is nothing to me. Yes or no--do you accept the
offer I make you?"
"Oh! I accept it."
"Do you swear to be faithful to your engagements?"
"I swear."
"Now then, how long does the general reckon upon remaining in this new
encampment?"
"Ten days."
"Why, then, did you tell me that you did not know how to draw the young
girl out, having so much time before you?"
"Hum! I did not know when you would require her to be delivered up to
you?"
"That's true. Well, I give you nine days; that is to say, on the eve of
their departure the young girl must be given up to me."
"Oh! in that way----"
"Then that arrangement suits you?"
"It could not be better."
"Is it agreed?"
"Irrevocably."
"Here, then, Babbler," said the captain, giving the guide a magnificent
diamond pin which he wore in his hunting shirt, "here is my earnest."
"Oh!" the bandit exclaimed, seizing the jewel joyfully.
"That pin," said the captain, "is a present I make you in addition to
the eight thousand dollars I will hand over to you on receiving Doña
Luz."
"You are noble and generous, captain," said the guide; "it is a pleasure
to serve you."
"Still," the captain rejoined, in a rough voice, and with a look cold
as a steel blade, "I would have you remember I am called he who kills;
and that if you deceive me, there does not exist in the prairie a place
sufficiently strong or sufficiently unknown to protect you from the
terrible effects of my vengeance.
"I know that, captain," said the half-breed, shuddering in spite of
himself; "but you may be quite satisfied I will not deceive you."
"I hope you will not! Now let us separate; your absence may be observed.
In nine days I shall be here."
"In nine days I will place the girl in your hands."
After these words the guide returned to the camp, which he entered
without being seen.
As soon as they were alone, the two men with whom the Babbler had just
made this hideous and strange bargain, retreated silently among the
underwood, through which they crawled like serpents.
They soon reached the banks of a little rivulet which ran, unperceived
and unknown, through the forest. Kennedy whistled in a certain fashion
twice.
A slight noise was heard, and a horseman, holding two horses in hand,
appeared at a few paces from the spot where they had stopped.
"Come on, Frank," said Kennedy, "you may approach without fear."
The horsemen immediately advanced.
"What is there new?" Kennedy asked.
"Nothing very important," the horseman replied.
"I have discovered an Indian trail."
"Ah! ah!" said the captain, "numerous?"
"Rather so."
"In what direction?"
"It cuts the prairie from east to west."
"Well done, Frank, and who are these Indians?"
"As well as I can make out, they are Comanches."
The captain reflected a moment.
"Oh! it is some detachment of hunters," he said.
"Very likely," Frank replied.
The two men mounted.
"Frank and you, Kennedy," said the captain, at the expiration of a
minute, "will go to the passage of the Buffalo, and encamp in the grotto
which is there; carefully watching the movements of the Mexicans, but in
such a manner as not to be discovered."
"Be satisfied of that, captain."
"Oh; I know you are very adroit and devoted comrades, therefore I
perfectly rely upon you. Watch the Babbler, likewise; that half-breed
only inspires me with moderate confidence."
"That shall be done!"
"Farewell, then, till we meet again. You shall soon hear of me."
Notwithstanding the darkness, the three men set off at a gallop, and
were soon far in the desert, in two different directions.