THE TORTURE.
As soon as the scalp dance was over, the principal warriors of the tribe
ranged themselves before the stake, their arms in hand, whilst the
women, particularly the most aged, fell upon the condemned, abusing her,
pushing her, pulling her hair, and striking her, without her opposing
the least resistance, or seeking to escape the ill-treatment with which
they loaded her.
The unfortunate woman only hoped for one thing, and that was to see her
punishment begin.
She had watched with feverish impatience the whirlings of the scalp
dance, so greatly did she fear to see her beloved son appear and place
himself between her and her executioners.
Like the ancient martyrs, she in her heart accused the Indians of losing
precious time in useless ceremonies; if she had had the strength, she
would have reprimanded them, and rallied them upon their slowness and
the hesitation they seemed to display in the sacrifice.
The truth was, that in spite of themselves, and although this execution
appeared just, the Comanches had a repugnance to torture a helpless
woman, already aged, and who had never injured them, either directly or
indirectly.
Eagle Head himself, notwithstanding his hatred, felt something like
a secret remorse for the crime he was committing. Far from hastening
on the last preparations, he only assisted with an indecision and a
disgust that he could not succeed in surmounting.
For intrepid men, accustomed to brave the greatest perils, it is always
a degrading action to torture a weak creature, or a woman who has no
other defence than her tears. If it had been a man, the agreement would
have been general throughout the tribe to tie him to the stake.
Indian prisoners laugh at punishment, they insult their executioners,
and, in their death songs, they reproach their conquerors with their
cowardice, their inexperience in making their victims suffer; they
enumerate their own brave deeds, they count the enemies they scalped
before they themselves yielded; in short, by their sarcasms and their
contemptuous attitudes, they excite the anger of their executioners,
reanimate their hatred, and, to a certain point, justify their ferocity.
But a woman, weak and resigned, presenting herself like a lamb to the
shambles, already half dead, what interest could such an execution offer?
There was no glory to be gained, but, on the contrary, a general
reprobation to draw upon themselves.
The Comanches comprehended all this, thence their repugnance and
hesitation. Nevertheless, the business must be gone through.
Eagle Head approached the prisoner, and delivering her from the harpies
who annoyed her, said in a solemn voice--
"Woman, I have kept my promise; your son is not come, you are about to
die."
"Thanks," she said, in a tremulous voice, leaning against a tree to
avoid falling.
"Are you not afraid of death?" he asked.
"No," she replied, fixing upon him a look of angelic mildness; "it will
be most welcome; my life has been nothing but one long agony; death will
be to me a blessing."
"But your son?"
"My son will be saved if I die; you have sworn it upon the bones of your
fathers."
"I have sworn it."
"Deliver me up to death, then."
"Are the women of your nation, then, like Indian squaws, who view
torture without trembling?" the chief asked, with astonishment.
"Yes," she replied with great agitation; "all mothers despise it when
the safety of their children is at stake."
"Listen," said the Indian, moved with involuntary pity; "I also have a
mother whom I love; if you desire it, I will retard your punishment till
sunset."
"What should you do that for?" she replied with terrible simplicity.
"No, warrior; if my grief really touches you, there is one favour, one
favour alone which you can grant me."
"Name it," he said earnestly.
"Put me to death immediately."
"But if your son arrives?"
"Of what importance is that to you? You require a victim, do you not?
Very well, that victim is before you, you may torture her at your
pleasure. Why do you hesitate? Put me to death, I say."
"Your desire shall be satisfied," the Comanche replied in a melancholy
tone. "Woman, prepare yourself."
She bowed her head upon her breast, and waited. Upon a signal from
Eagle Head, two warriors seized the prisoner, and tied her to the stake
round the waist.
Then the exercise of the knife began; this is what it consists of:--
Every warrior seizes his scalping knife by the point with the thumb and
the first finger of his right hand, and launches it at the victim, so as
to inflict only slight wounds.
Indians, in their punishments, endeavour to make the tortures continue
as long as possible, and only give their enemy the _coup de grâce_ when
they have torn life from him by degrees, and, so to say, piecemeal.
The warriors launched their knives with such marvellous skill, that all
of them just grazed the unfortunate woman, inflicting nothing more than
scratches.
The blood, however, flowed, she closed her eyes, and, absorbed in
herself, prayed fervently for the mortal stroke.
The warriors, to whom her body served as a target, grew warmer by
degrees; curiosity, the desire of showing their skill, had taken in
their minds the place of the pity they had at first felt. They applauded
with loud shouts and laughter the prowess of the most adroit.
In a word, as it always happens, as well among civilized people as among
savages, blood intoxicated them; their self-love was brought into play;
everyone sought to surpass the man who had preceded him; all other
considerations were forgotten.
When all had thrown their knives, a small number of the most skilful
marksmen of the tribe took their guns.
This time it was necessary to have a sure eye, for an ill-directed
ball might terminate the punishment, and deprive the spectators of the
attractive spectacle which promised them so much pleasure.
At every discharge the poor creature shrank within herself, though
giving no signs of life beyond a nervous shudder which agitated her
whole body.
"Let us have an end of this," said Eagle Head, who felt, in spite
of himself, his heart of bronze soften before so much courage and
abnegation. "Comanche warriors are not jaguars; this woman has suffered
enough; let her die at once."
A few murmurs were heard among the squaws and the children, who were the
most eager for the punishment of the prisoner.
But the warriors were of the opinion of their chief; this execution,
shorn of the insults that victims generally address to their conquerors,
possessed no attraction for them, and, besides, they were ashamed of
such inveteracy against a woman.
Hence they spared the unfortunate woman the splinters of wood inserted
under the nails, the sulphur matches fastened between the fingers, the
mask of honey applied to the face that the bees might come and sting
them, together with other tortures too long and hideous to enumerate,
and they prepared the funeral pile upon which she was to be burnt.
But before proceeding to the last act of this atrocious tragedy, they
untied the poor woman; for a few minutes they allowed her to take breath
and recover from the terrible emotions she had undergone.
She sank on the ground almost insensible.
Eagle Head approached her.
"My mother is brave," he said; "many warriors would not have borne the
trials with so much courage."
A faint smile passed over her violet lips.
"I have a son," she replied with a look of ineffable sweetness; "it is
for him I suffer."
"A warrior is happy in having such a mother."
"Why do you defer my death? It is cruel to act thus; warriors ought not
to torment women."
"My mother is right, her tortures are ended."
"Am I going to die at last?" she asked with a sigh of relief.
"Yes, they are preparing the pile."
In spite of herself, the poor woman felt a shudder of horror thrill her
whole frame at this fearful intimation.
"Burn me!" she cried with terror; "why burn me?"
"It is the usual custom."
She let her head sink into her hands; but soon recovering, she drew
herself up, and raised an inspired glance towards Heaven,--
"My God!" she murmured with resignation, "Thy will be done!"
"Does my mother feel herself sufficiently recovered to be fastened to
the stake?" the chief asked in something like a tone of compassion.
"Yes!" she said rising resolutely.
Eagle Head could not repress a gesture of admiration. Indians consider
courage as the first of virtues.
"Come, then," he said.
The prisoner followed him with a firm step--all her strength was
restored, she was at length going to die!
The chief led her to the stake of blood, to which she was bound a second
time; before her they piled up the faggots of green wood, and at a
signal from Eagle Head, they were set on fire.
The fire did not for some time take, on account of the moisture of the
wood, which discharged clouds of smoke; but, after a few moments, the
flame sparkled, extended by degrees, and then acquired great intensity.
The unfortunate woman could not suppress a cry of terror.
At that moment a horseman dashed at full speed into the midst of the
camp; at a bound he was on the ground, and before anyone could have
opposed him, he tore away the burning wood from the pile, and cut the
bonds of the victim.
"Oh! why have you come?" the poor mother murmured, sinking into his arms.
"My mother! ho, pardon me!" Loyal Heart cried, "my God! how you must
have suffered."
"Begone, begone, Rafaël!" she repeated, smothering him with kisses;
"leave me to die in your place; ought not a mother to give her life for
her child?"
"Oh do not speak so, my mother! you will drive me mad," said the young
man, clasping her in his arms with despair.
By this time the emotion caused by the sudden appearance of Loyal Heart
had subsided, the Indian warriors had recovered that stoicism which they
affect under all circumstances.
Eagle Head advanced towards the hunter.
"My brother is welcome," he said, "I had given over expecting him."
"I am here; it was impossible to arrive sooner; my mother is free, I
suppose?"
"She is free."
"She may go where she pleases?"
"Where she pleases."
"No," said the prisoner, placing herself resolutely in front of the
Indian chief, "it is too late, it is I who am to suffer; my son has no
right to take my place."
"Dear mother, what are you saying?"
"That which is just," she replied with animation; "the time at which you
were to have come is past, you have no right to be here to prevent my
death. Begone, begone, Rafaël, I implore you!--Leave me to die to save
you," she added, bursting into tears and throwing herself into his arms.
"My mother," the young man replied, returning her caresses, "your love
for me misleads you; I cannot allow such a crime to be accomplished, I
alone ought to be here."
"My God! my God!" the poor mother exclaimed, sobbing, "he will not
understand anything! I should be so happy to die for him."
Overcome by emotions too powerful for nature, the poor mother sunk
fainting into the arms of her son.
Loyal Heart impressed a long and tender kiss upon her brow, and placing
her in the hands of Nô Eusebio, who had arrived some minutes before:
said in a voice choked with grief.
"Begone, poor mother, may she be happy, if happiness can exist for her
without her child."
The old servant sighed, pressed the hand of Loyal Heart warmly, and
placing the lifeless form of his mistress before him in the saddle, he
turned his horse's head and left the camp slowly, no one attempting to
oppose his departure.
Loyal Heart looked after his mother as long as he could see her; then,
when she disappeared, and the steps of the horse that bore her could no
longer be heard, he breathed a deep, broken sigh, and passing his hand
over his brow, murmured,--
"All is ended! My God, watch over her!"
Then, turning towards the Indian chief who surveyed him in silence,
mingled with respect and admiration--he said in a firm clear voice, and
with a contemptuous look,--
"Comanche warriors! you are all cowards! brave men do not torture women!"
Eagle Head smiled.
"We shall see," he said ironically, "if the pale trapper is as brave as
he pretends to be."
"At least I shall know how to die like a man," he replied haughtily.
"The mother of the hunter is free."
"Yes. Well! what do you want with me?"
"A prisoner has no arms."
"That's true," he said, with a smile of contempt, "I will give you mine."
"Not yet, if you please, good friend!" said a clear, sarcastic voice;
and Belhumeur rode up, bearing across the front of his saddle a child
of four or five years of age, and a rather pretty young Indian Squaw
securely fastened to the tail of his horse.
"My son! my wife!" cried Eagle Head, in great terror.
"Yes," said the Canadian jeeringly, "your wife and child, whom I have
made prisoners. Ah ah! that is pretty well played, is it not?"
At a signal from his friend, Loyal Heart bounded on the woman, whose
teeth chattered with fear, and who cast terrified looks on all sides.
"Now," Belhumeur continued with a sinister smile, "let us talk a bit; I
think I have equalized the chances a little--what say you?"
And he placed the muzzle of a pistol to the brow of the little
creature, which uttered loud cries on feeling the cold iron.
"Oh!" cried Eagle Head, in a tone of despair, "my son! restore me my
son!"
"And your wife--do you forget her?" Belhumeur replied, with an ironical
smile, and shrugging his shoulders.
"What are your conditions?" Eagle Head asked.
END OF THE FIRST PART.
PART II.
WAKTEHNO--"he who kills."
CHAPTER I.
LOYAL HEART.
The position was completely changed.
The hunters, who a moment before were at the mercy of the Indians, felt
they were not only in a manner free, but that they had it in their power
to impose hard conditions.
Many guns were levelled in the direction of the Canadian--many arrows
were pointed towards him; but, at a signal from Eagle Head, the guns
were recovered, and the arrows were returned to the quivers.
The shame of being foiled by two men who audaciously braved them in
the middle of their own camp, made the hearts of the Comanches burn
with anger. They were sensible of the impossibility of contending with
their desperate adversaries. In fact, what could they do against these
intrepid wood rangers, who reckoned life as nothing?
Kill them?
But, in falling, they would slaughter without pity the prisoners whom
the Comanches were anxious to save. The most strongly developed feeling
among redskins is love of family.
For the sake of his children or his wife, the fiercest warrior would not
hesitate to make concessions which the most frightful tortures, under
other circumstances, could not force from him. Thus, at the sight of
his wife and child fallen into the power of Belhumeur, Eagle Head only
thought of their safety.
Of all men, Indians are perhaps those who know how to bend with the
greatest facility to the exigencies of an unforeseen situation.
The Comanche chief concealed in the depths of his heart the hatred
and anger which devoured him. With a movement full of nobleness and
disinterestedness, he threw back the blanket which served him as
a cloak, and with a calm countenance and a smile on his lips, he
approached the hunters.
The latter, long accustomed to the mode of action of the redskins,
remained in appearance impassible, awaiting the result of their bold
_coup de main._
"My pale brothers," the chief said, "are full of wisdom, though their
hair is black; they are acquainted with all the stratagems familiar to
great warriors; they have the cunning of the beaver and the courage of
the lion."
The two men bowed in silence, and Eagle Head continued,--
"As my brother Loyal Heart is in the camp of the Comanches of the great
lakes, the hour has at length arrived for dispersing the clouds which
have arisen between him and the redskins. Loyal Heart is just; let him
explain himself without fear; he is in the presence of renowned chiefs,
who will not hesitate to acknowledge their wrongs, if they have any
towards him."
"Oh! oh!" the Canadian replied with a sneer; "Eagle Head has quickly
changed his sentiments with respect to us; does he believe he can
deceive us with vain words?"
A flash of hatred sparkled in the savage eye of the Indian; but, with an
extraordinary effort, he succeeded in restraining himself.
Suddenly a man stepped between the interlocutors.
This man was Eshis, the most highly venerated warrior of the tribe.
The old man slowly raised his arm.
"Let my children listen to me," he said; "everything should be cleared
up today; the pale hunters will smoke the calumet in council."
"Be it so," said Loyal Heart.
Upon a signal from the Sun the principal chiefs of the tribe came and
ranged themselves around him.
Belhumeur had not changed his position; he was ready, at the slightest
doubtful gesture, to sacrifice his prisoners.
When the pipe had gone the round of the circle formed near the hunters,
the old chief collected himself; then, after bowing to the whites, he
spoke as follows:--
"Warriors, I thank the Master of Life for loving us redskins, and for
having this day sent us two pale men, who may at length open their
hearts. Take courage, young men; do not allow yourselves to be cast
down, and drive away the evil spirit far from you. We love you, Loyal
Heart; we have heard of your humanity towards Indians. We believe that
your heart is open, and that your veins flow clear as the sun. It is
true that we Indians have not much sense when the firewater has power
over us, and that we may have displeased you in various circumstances.
But we hope you will think no more of it; and that, as long as you and
we shall be in the prairies, we shall hunt side by side, as warriors who
respect and love each other ought to do."
To which Loyal Heart replied:--
"You, chiefs and other members of the nation of the Comanches of the
great lakes, whose eyes are opened, I hope you will lend an ear to the
words of my mouth. The Master of Life has opened my brain, and caused
friendly words to be breathed into my breast. My heart is filled with
feelings for you, your wives, and your children; and what I say to you
now proceeds from the roots of the feelings of myself and my friend.
Never in the prairie has my hatto been closed against the hunters of
your nation. Why then do you make war against us? Why should you
torture my mother, who is an old woman, and seek to deprive me of life?
I am averse to the shedding of Indian blood; for, I repeat to you, that
notwithstanding all the ill you have done me, my heart leaps towards
you!"
"Wah!" interrupted Eagle Head; "my brother speaks well: but the wound he
inflicted upon me is not yet healed."
"My brother is foolish," the hunter replied; "does he think me so
unskilful that I could not have killed him, if such had been my
intention? I will prove to you what I am capable of, and what I
understand by the courage of a warrior. If I make but a sign, that woman
and that child _will have ceased to live!_"
"Yes!" Belhumeur added.
A shudder ran through the ranks of the assembly. Eagle Head felt a cold
perspiration pealing on his temples.
Loyal Heart preserved silence for a minute, fixing an indefinable look
upon the Indians; then, raising his shoulders with disdain, he threw
his weapons at his feet, and crossing his arms upon his breast, he
turned towards the Canadian.
"Belhumeur," he said, in a calm, clear voice, "restore these two poor
creatures to liberty."
"How can you dream of such a thing?" cried the astonished hunter; "why,
that would be your sentence of death!"
"I know it would."
"Well?"
"I beg you to do it."
The Canadian made no reply. He began to whistle between his teeth,
and, drawing his knife, he, at a stroke, cut the bonds which confined
his captives, who bounded away like jaguars, uttering howlings of joy,
to conceal themselves among their friends. He then replaced his knife
in his belt, threw down his weapons, dismounted, and went and placed
himself resolutely by the side of Loyal Heart.
"What are you doing?" the latter cried. "Make your escape, my friend."
"What! save myself and leave you?" the Canadian replied, carelessly.
"No, thank you. As I must die once, I had quite as lief it should be
today as hereafter. I shall never, perhaps, find so good an opportunity."
The two men shook hands with an energetic grip.
"Now, chiefs," Loyal Heart said, addressing the Indians in his clear,
calm voice, "we are in your power, do with us as you think proper."
The Comanches looked at each other for an instant in a state of stupor.
The stoical abnegation of these two men, who, by the bold action of one
of them, might not only have escaped, but have dictated terms to them,
and who, instead of profiting by this immense advantage, threw down
their weapons and delivered themselves into their hands, appeared to
them to exceed all instances of heroism celebrated in their nation.
There followed a sufficiently long silence, during which the hearts
might be heard beating in the breasts of those men of bronze, who, by
their primitive impulsive education, are more apt than might be believed
to understand all true feelings, and appreciate all really noble actions.
At length Eagle Head, after a little hesitation, threw down his
arms, and approaching the hunters, said, in an agitated voice, which
contrasted with the stoical and indifferent appearance he sought in vain
to preserve,--
"It is true, warriors of the palefaces, that you have great sense, that
it sweetens the words you address to us, and that we all understand
you; we know also that truth opens your lips. It is very difficult
for us Indians, who have not the reason of the whites, to avoid often
committing, without wishing to do so, reprehensible actions; but we hope
that Loyal Heart will take the skin from his heart, so that it may be as
clear as ours, and that between us the hatchet may be buried so deeply
that the sons of the sons of his grandsons, in a thousand moons and a
hundred more, will not be able to find it."
And placing his two hands upon the shoulders of the hunter, he kissed
him upon the eyes, adding,--
"May Loyal Heart be my brother!"
"Be it so!" said the hunter, rejoiced at this conclusion; "henceforth
I shall entertain for the Comanches as much friendship as, up to this
time, I have had mistrust."
The Indian chiefs crowded round their new friends, upon whom they
lavished, with the ingenuousness that characterizes primitive natures,
marks of affection and respect.
The two hunters had been long known in the tribe of the Serpent; their
reputation was established. Often at night, around their campfire,
their exploits had struck with admiration the young men to whom the old
warriors related them.
The reconciliation was frank between Loyal Heart and Eagle Head; there
did not remain between them the least trace of their past hatred. The
heroism of the white hunter had conquered the animosity of the redskin
warrior.
The two men were chatting, peaceably seated at the entrance of a hut,
when a great cry was heard, and an Indian, with his features distorted
by terror, rushed into the camp.
All crowded round this man to learn his news; but the Indian, perceiving
Eagle Head, advanced towards him.
"What is going on?" the chief asked.
The Indian cast a ferocious look at Loyal Heart and Belhumeur, who had
no more idea than the others of the cause of this panic.
"Take care that these two palefaces do not escape; we are betrayed," he
said, in a broken voice, panting from the speed with which he had come.
"Let my brother explain himself more clearly," said Eagle Head.
"All the white trappers, the long knives of the west, are assembled;
they form a war detachment of near a hundred men; they are advancing
and spreading themselves in such a manner, as to invest the camp on all
sides at once."
"Are you sure these hunters come as enemies?" said the chief again.
"What else can they be?" the Indian warrior replied. "They are creeping
like serpents through the high grass, with their guns before them, and
their scalping knives in their teeth. Chief, we are betrayed; these men
have been sent among us to lull our vigilance to sleep."
Eagle Head and Loyal Heart exchanged a glance of an undefinable
expression, and which was an enigma for all but themselves.
The Comanche chief turned towards the Indian.
"Did you see," he said, "who marched at the head of the hunters?"
"Yes, I saw him."
"Was it Amick (Black Elk), the principal guardian of Loyal Heart's
traps?"
"Who else could it be?"
"Very well! Retire," said the warrior, dismissing the messenger with a
nod of the head; then, addressing the hunter, he asked,
"What is to be done?"
"Nothing," Loyal Heart replied, "this concerns me, my brother must leave
me to act alone."
"My brother is master!"
"I will go and meet these hunters; let Eagle Head keep his young men in
the camp till my return."
"That shall be done."
Loyal Heart threw his gun upon his shoulder, gave Belhumeur a shake
of the hand, and a smile to the Comanche chief, and then directed his
course to the forest, at that pace, at once firm and easy, which was
habitual to him.
He soon disappeared among the trees.
"Hum;" said Belhumeur, lighting his Indian pipe, and addressing Eagle
Head, "you see, chief, that in this world, it is not often a bad
speculation, to allow ourselves to be guided by our hearts."
And satisfied beyond measure with this philosophical fancy, which
appeared to him quite to the purpose, the Canadian enveloped himself in
a thick cloud of smoke.
By the orders of the chief, all the sentinels spread round the outskirts
of the camp were called in.
The Indians awaited with impatience the result of Loyal Heart's
proceedings.
CHAPTER II.
THE PIRATES.
It was evening, at a distance nearly equal from the camp of the
Mexicans, and that of the Comanches.
Concealed in a ravine, deeply enclosed between two hills, about forty
men were assembled around several fires, dispersed in such a manner that
the light of the flames could not betray their presence.
The strange appearance offered by this assemblage of adventurers, with
gloomy features, ferocious glances, and strange and mean attire, offered
a feature worthy of the crayon of Callot, or the pencil of Salvator Rosa.
These men, a heterogeneous mixture of all the nationalities that people
the two worlds, from Russia to China, were the most complete collection
of scoundrels that can be imagined; thorough food for the gallows,
without faith or law, fire or home, the true outcasts of society, which
had rejected them from its bosom, obliged to seek a refuge in the depths
of the prairies of the west; even in these deserts they formed a band
apart, fighting sometimes against the hunters, sometimes against the
Indians, excelling both in cruelty and roguery.
These men were, in a word, what people have agreed to call, the pirates
of the prairies.
A denomination which suits them in every way, since, like their
brothers of the ocean, hoisting all colours, or rather tramping them
all underfoot, they fall upon every traveller who ventures to cross the
prairies alone, attack and plunder caravans, and when all other prey
escapes them, they hide themselves traitorously in the high grass to
entrap the Indians, whom they assassinate in order to gain the premium
which the paternal government of the United States gives for every
aboriginal scalp, as in France they pay for the head of a wolf.
This troop was commanded by Captain Waktehno, whom we have already had
occasion to bring on the scene.
There prevailed at this moment among these bandits an agitation that
presaged some mysterious expedition.
Some were cleaning and loading their arms, others mending their clothes;
some were smoking and drinking mezcal, others were asleep, folded in
their ragged cloaks.
The horses, all saddled and ready for mounting, were fastened to pickets.
At stated distances, sentinels, leaning on their long rifles, silent and
motionless as statues of bronze, watched over the safety of all.
The dying flashes of the fires, which were expiring by degrees, threw
a reddish reflection upon this picture that gave the pirates a still
fiercer aspect.
The captain appeared a prey to extreme anxiety; he walked with long
strides among his subordinates, stamping his foot with anger, and
stopping at intervals to listen to the sound of the prairies.
The night became darker and darker, the moon had disappeared, the wind
moaned hoarsely among the hills, and the pirates had eventually fallen
asleep one after another.
The captain alone still watched.
All at once he fancied that he heard at a distance the report of
firearms, then a second, and all again was silent.
"What does this mean?" the captain murmured, angrily; "have my rascals
allowed themselves to be surprised?"
Then, folding himself carefully in his cloak, he hastily directed his
course to the side whence the reports appeared to come.
The darkness was intense; and, notwithstanding his knowledge of the
country, the captain could only advance with difficulty through
brambles, thistles, and briars, which, at every step, impeded his
progress. He was several times obliged to stop and look about him to be
sure of his route, from which the turnings and windings necessitated by
blocks of rock and thickets, continually diverted him.
During one of these halts, he fancied he could perceive, at a small
distance from him, the rustling of leaves and boughs, like that which is
produced by the passage of a man or a wild beast through underwood.
The captain concealed himself behind the trunk of a gigantic acajou,
drew his pistols, and cocked them, in order to be prepared for whatever
might happen; then, bending his head forward, he listened.
All was calm around him; it was that mysterious time of night when
Nature seems to sleep, and when all the nameless sounds of the solitude
are quieted down, so that, as the Indians express it, nothing is to be
heard but silence.
"I must have been deceived," the pirate muttered; and he began to
retrace his steps. But, at that moment, the noise was repeated, nearer
and more distinctly, and was immediately followed by a stifled groan.
"The devil!" said the captain; "this begins to be interesting: I must
clear this up."
After a hasty movement forward of a few steps, he saw, gliding along,
at a short distance from him, the scarcely distinguishable shadow of a
man. This person, whoever he was, seemed to walk with difficulty; he
staggered at every step, and stopped at intervals, as if to recover
strength. He frequently allowed a smothered complaint to escape him. The
captain sprang forward, to bar his passage. When the unknown perceived
him, he uttered a cry of terror, and fell on his knees, murmuring in a
voice broken by terror--
"Pardon! pardon! do not kill me!"
"Why!" exclaimed the astonished captain, "it is the Babbler! Who the
devil has treated him in this fashion?"
And he bent over him.
It was indeed the guide.
He had fainted.
"Plague stifle the fool!" the captain muttered, with vexation. "What's
the use of asking him anything now?"
But the pirate was a man of resources; he replaced his pistols in his
belt, and raising the wounded man, he threw him over his shoulders.
Loaded with his burden, which scarcely seemed to lessen his speed, he
hastily returned to the camp by the way he had left it.
He deposited the guide close to a half-extinguished brazier, into which
he threw an armful of dry wood to revive it. A clear blaze soon enabled
him to examine the man who lay senseless at his feet.
The features of the Babbler were livid, a cold perspiration stood in
drops upon his temples, and the blood flowed in abundance from a wound
in his breast.
"_Cascaras!_" the captain muttered; "here is a poor devil who has got
his business done! I hope before he departs he will, however, tell me
who has done him this favour, and what has become of Kennedy!"
Like all the wood rangers, the captain possessed a small practical
knowledge of medicine; it was nothing new to him to dress a shot wound.
Thanks to the attentions he lavished on the bandit, the latter was
not long in coming to himself. He breathed a heavy sigh, opened his
haggard eyes, but remained for some time unable to speak; after several
fruitless efforts, however, aided by the captain, he succeeded in
sitting up, and shaking his head repeatedly, he murmured in a low,
broken voice:
"All is lost, captain! Our plan has failed!"
"A thousand thunders!" the captain cried, stamping his feet with rage.
"How has this happened?"
"The girl is a demon!" the guide replied, whose difficult respiration
and gradually weaker voice showed that he had but a few minutes to live.
"If you can manage, anyhow," said the captain, who had understood
nothing by the exclamation of the wounded man, "tell me how things have
gone on, and who is your assassin, that I may avenge you."
A sinister smile painfully crossed the violet lips of the guide.
"The name of my assassin?" he said, in an ironical tone.
"Yes."
"Well, her name is Doña Luz."
"Doña Luz!" the captain cried, starting with surprise, "impossible!"
"Listen," the guide resumed; "my moments are numbered; I shall soon
be a dead man. In my position people don't lie. Let me speak without
interrupting me. I don't know whether I shall have time to tell you all,
before I go to render my account to Him who knows everything."
"Speak!" said the captain.
And, as the voice of the wounded man became weaker and weaker, he went
down upon his knees close to him, in order to lose none of his words.
The guide closed his eyes, collected himself for a few seconds, and
then, with great effort, said,--
"Give me some brandy?"
"You must be mad! brandy will kill you!"
The wounded man shook his head.
"It will give me the necessary strength to enable me to tell you all I
have to say. Am I not already half dead!"
"That's true," muttered the captain.
"Do not hesitate, then," the wounded man replied, who had heard him;
"time presses; I have important things to inform you of."
"If it must be so, it must," said the captain, after a moment's
hesitation; and taking his gourd, he applied it to the lips of the guide.
The latter drank eagerly and copiously; a feverish flush coloured his
hollow cheeks, his almost extinguished eyes flashed and gleamed with an
unnatural fire.
"Now," he said, in a firm and pretty loud voice, "do not interrupt me:
when you see me become weak, let me drink again. I, perhaps, shall have
time to tell you all."
The captain made a sign of assent, and the Babbler began.
His recital was rendered long by the repeated weakness with which he was
seized; when it was terminated, he added,--
"You see, that this woman is, as I have told you, a demon; she has
killed both Kennedy and me. Renounce the capture of her, captain; she is
game you cannot bring down; you will never get possession of her."
"Hum!" said the captain, knitting his brows; "do you imagine that I give
up my projects in that fashion?"
"I wish you luck, then," the guide murmured; "as for me, my business is
done--my account is settled. Adieu, captain!" he added, with a strange
sort of smile, "I am going to all the devils--we shall meet again
yonder."
And he sank back.
The captain endeavoured to raise him again; but he was dead.
"A good journey to you!" he muttered, carelessly. He took the corpse
upon his shoulders, carried it into a thicket, in the middle of which he
made a hole, and placed it in it; then, this operation being achieved in
a few minutes, he returned to the fire, wrapped himself in his cloak,
stretched himself on the sod, with his feet towards the brazier, and
fell asleep, saying,--
"In a few hours it will be light, and we will than see what we have to
do."
Bandits do not sleep late. At sunrise all were on the alert in the camp
of the pirates; everyone was preparing for departure.
The captain, far from renouncing his projects, had, on the contrary,
determined to hasten the execution of them, so as not to allow the
Mexicans time to find among the white trappers of the prairies
auxiliaries who might render success impossible.
As soon as he was certain that the orders he had issued were understood,
the captain gave the signal for departure. The troop set off in the
Indian fashion, that is to say, literally turning their backs towards
the point to which they directed their course. When they arrived at a
spot which appeared to present to them the security they desired, the
pirates dismounted; the horses were confided to a few determined men,
and the rest, crawling along upon the ground like a swarm of vipers, or
jumping from branch to branch, and from tree to tree, advanced, with all
the customary precautions, towards the camp of the Mexicans.
CHAPTER III.
DEVOTEDNESS.
As we said in a preceding chapter, the doctor had left the camp of the
Mexicans, charged by Doña Luz with a message for Black Elk.
Like all learned men, the doctor was absent by nature, and that with the
best intentions in the world.
During the first moments, according to the custom of his brethren, he
puzzled his brain to endeavour to make out the signification of the
words, somewhat cabalistical in his opinion, that he was to repeat to
the trapper.
He could not comprehend what assistance his friends could possibly
obtain from a half-wild man, who lived alone in the prairie, and whose
existence was passed in hunting and trapping.
If he had accepted this mission so promptly, the profound friendship he
professed for the niece of the general was the sole cause: although he
expected no advantageous result from it, as we have said, he had set out
resolutely, convinced that the certainty of his departure would calm the
uneasiness of the young lady. In short, he had rather meant to satisfy
the caprice of a patient, than undertake a serious affair.
In the persuasion, therefore, that the mission with which he was
charged was a useless one, instead of going full speed, as he ought
to have done, to the toldo of Black Elk, he dismounted, passed his
arm through his bridle, and began to look for simples, an occupation
which, ere long, so completely absorbed him, that he entirely forgot the
instructions of Doña Luz, and the reason why he had left the camp.
In the meanwhile, time passed slowly because anxiously; half the day was
gone, and the doctor, who ought long before to have returned, did not
appear.
The uneasiness became great in the camp, where the general and the
captain had organized everything for a vigorous defence in case of
attack.
But nothing appeared.
The greatest calm continued to prevail in the environs; the Mexicans
were not far from thinking it a false alarm.
Doña Luz alone felt her inquietude increase every instant; with her
eyes fixed upon the plain, she looked in vain in the direction her
expected messengers should arrive by.
All at once, it struck her that the high grass of the prairie had an
oscillating motion which was not natural to it.
There was not a breath in the air; a heavy, stifling heat weighed
down all nature; the leaves of the trees, scorched by the sun, were
motionless; the high grass alone, agitated by a slow and mysterious
movement, continued to oscillate.
And, what was most extraordinary, this almost imperceptible motion,
which required close attention to be observed, was not general; on the
contrary, it was successive, approaching the camp by degrees, with a
regularity which gave reason for supposing an organized impulsion; so
that, in proportion as it was communicated to the nearest grass, the
most distant returned by degrees to a state of complete immobility, from
which it did not change.
The sentinels placed in the intrenchments could not tell to what to
attribute this movement, of which they understood nothing.
The general, as an experienced soldier, resolved to know what it meant;
although he had never personally had to do with the Indians, he had
heard too much of their manner of fighting not to suspect some stratagem.
Not wishing to weaken the camp, which stood in need of all its
defenders, he resolved himself to undertake the adventure, and go out on
the scout.
At the instant he was about to climb over the intrenchments, the captain
stopped him, by placing his hand respectfully on his shoulders.
"What do you want with, me, my friend?" the general asked, turning
round.
"I wish, with your permission, to put a question to you, general."
"Do so."
"You are leaving the camp?"
"I am."
"To go in search of intelligence, no doubt?"
"I admit that is my intention."
"Then, general, it is to me that mission belongs."
"Ay! how is that?" said the astonished general.
"Good God! general, that is very plain; I am but a poor devil of an
officer, and owe everything to you."
"What then?"
"The peril I shall run, if peril there be, will not in any way
compromise the success of the expedition; whereas----"
"If you are killed."
The general started.
"Everything must be foreseen and provided for," continued the captain,
"when we have before us such adversaries as those that threaten us."
"That is true. What then?"
"Well, the expedition will fail, and not one of us will ever see a
civilized country again. You are the head; we are but the arms; remain,
therefore, in the camp."
The general reflected for a few seconds; then pressing the hand of the
young man cordially, he said,--
"Thank you, but I must see for myself what is being plotted against us.
The circumstance is too serious to allow me to trust even to you."
"You must remain in the camp, general," persisted the captain, "if
not for our sake, at least for that of your niece, that innocent and
delicate creature, who, if any misfortune should happen to you, would
find herself alone, abandoned amidst ferocious tribes, without support,
and without a protector. Of what consequence is my life to me, a poor
lad without a family, who owes everything to your kindness? The hour is
come to prove my gratitude--let me discharge my debt."
"But----" the general tried to speak.
"You know," the young man continued, warmly, "if I could take your place
with Doña Luz, I would do it with joy; but I am as yet too young to play
that noble part. Come, general, let me go instead of you, it is my duty
to do so."
Half by persuasion, half by force he succeeded in drawing the old
soldier back; he sprang upon the intrenchments, leaped down on the other
side, and set off at full speed, after making a last sign of farewell.
The general looked after him as long as he could perceive him; then he
passed his hand across his careful brow, murmuring,--
"Brave boy! excellent nature!"
"Is he not, uncle?" Doña Luz replied, who had approached and listened
without being seen.
"Ah! were you there, dear child?" he said, with a smile, which he
endeavoured in vain to render cheerful.
"Yes, dear uncle, I have heard all."
"That is well, dear little one," the general said, with an effort;
"but this is not the time to give way to feeling. I must think of your
safety. Do not remain here longer; come with me; an Indian bullet might
easily reach you here."
Taking her by the hand, he led her affectionately to the tent.
After leading her in, he gave her a kiss upon her brow, advised her
not to go out again, and returned to the intrenchments, where he set
himself to watch with the greatest care what was going on in the plain;
calculating the while, mentally, the time that had passed since the
departure of the doctor, and feeling astonished at not seeing him return.
"He must have fallen in with the Indians," he said; "I only hope they
have not killed him."
Captain Aguilar was an intrepid soldier, trained in the incessant wars
of Mexico; he knew how to unite prudence with courage.
When he arrived at a certain distance from the camp, he laid himself on
the ground, face downwards, and reached, by creeping along thus, a rough
piece of rock, admirably situated for concealment and observation.
Everything appeared quiet around him; nothing denoted the approach of
an enemy. After spending a sufficient time in keenly exploring with his
eyes the country beyond him, he was preparing to return to the camp,
with a conviction that the general was deceived, and no imminent peril
existed, when suddenly, within ten paces of him, an asshata bounded up
in great terror, with ears erect and head thrown back, and fled away
with extreme velocity.
"Oh! oh!" the young man said to himself, "there is something here,
though. Let us try if we cannot make out what."
Quitting the rock behind which he had been screened, he, with great
precaution, advanced a few steps, in order to satisfy his suspicions.
The grass became powerfully agitated, half a score men arose suddenly
from various points, and surrounded him before he had time to put
himself on the defensive, or regain the shelter he had imprudently
quitted.
"Well," he said, with disdainful coolness, "luckily I know now with whom
I have to deal."
"Surrender!" one of the men nearest to him shouted.
"No, thank you," he replied, with an ironical smile. "You are fools if
you expect that. You must kill me out and out before you take me."
"Then we will kill you, my dainty spark," the first speaker answered,
brutally.
"I reckon upon that," said the captain, in a jeering tone; "but I mean
to defend myself; that will make a noise, my friends will hear us, your
surprise will be a failure, and that is exactly what I wish."
These words were pronounced with a coolness that made the pirates pause.
These men belonged to the band of Captain Waktehno, who was himself
among them.
"Yes," retorted the captain of the bandits, "your idea is not a bad one,
only you forget that we can kill you without making a noise; and so your
clever plan will come to nothing."
"Bah! who knows?" said the young man, and before the pirates could
prevent him, he made an extraordinary spring backwards, by which he
overset two men, and ran with his best speed in the direction of the
camp.
The first surprise over, the bandits darted forward in pursuit of him.
This trial of speed lasted a considerable time without the pirates being
able to perceive that they gained ground on the fugitive. Though not
relaxing in the pursuit, as they tried as much as possible to avoid
being seen by the Mexican sentinels, whom they hoped to surprise, they
were obliged to make turnings which necessarily impeded their course.
The captain had arrived within hearing of his friends, and he cast a
glance behind him. Profiting by a moment in which he had paused to take
breath, the bandits had gained upon him considerably, and the young man
became aware that if he continued to fly, he should cause the misfortune
he wished to avoid.
His determination was formed in an instant; he was satisfied he must
die, but he wished to die as a soldier, and make his fall useful to
those for whom he devoted himself.
He placed his back against a tree, laid his machete within reach, drew
his pistols from his belt, and facing the bandits, who were not more
than thirty paces from him, he cried in a loud voice, in order to
attract the attention of his friends:--
"To arms! to arms! Be on your guard! The enemies are here!"
Then, with the greatest coolness, he discharged his weapons as if at a
target--he had four double-barrelled pistols--repeating as every pirate
fell, as loud as he could shout,--
"To arms! the enemies are here! they will surround you! Be on your
guard! Be on your guard!"
The bandits, exasperated by this brave defence, rushed upon him with
great rage, forgetting all the precautions they had till that time taken.
Then commenced a horrible but an almost superhuman struggle of one man
against twenty or thirty; for it seemed, as every pirate fell, that
another took his place.
The conflict was fearful! The young man had determined to make the
sacrifice of his life, but he was equally resolved to sell it dearly.
We have said that at every shot he fired he had uttered a warning cry;
his pistols being discharged, at every stroke of his machete that he
dealt he did the same, to which the Mexicans replied by keeping up,
on their part, a rolling fire of musketry upon the pirates, who showed
themselves openly, blindly bent upon the destruction of a man who so
audaciously barred their passage with the impenetrable barrier of his
loyal breast.
At length the captain was brought down on one knee. The pirates rushed
upon him, pell-mell, wounding each other in their frantic efforts to
destroy him.
Such a combat could not last long.
Captain Aguilar fell, but in falling he drew with him a dozen pirates he
had immolated, and who formed a bloody escort on his passage to the tomb.
"Hum!" muttered Captain Waktehno, surveying him with admiration, whilst
staunching the blood of a large wound he had received in the breast; "a
roughish sort of fellow! If the others are like him, we shall have more
than our work to do. Come!" he continued turning towards his companions,
who awaited his orders, "do not let us stand here any longer to be shot
at like pigeons. To the assault, in God's name!--to the assault!"
The pirates rushed after him, brandishing their arms, and began to climb
the rock, vociferating, "To the assault! to the assault!"
On their side, the Mexicans, witnesses of the heroic death of Captain
Aguilar, prepared to avenge him.
CHAPTER IV.
THE DOCTOR.
Whilst these terrible events were being accomplished, the doctor was
quietly herbalizing. The worthy _savant_, enraptured by the rich _flora_
he had beneath his eyes, had forgotten everything but the thoughts of
the ample harvest he could make. He proceeded with his body bent towards
the ground, stopping for a long time before every plant he admired, ere
he resolved to pull it up.
When he had loaded himself with an infinite number of plants and herbs
exceedingly valuable to him, he resolved at length to seat himself
quietly at the foot of a tree, and classify them at his ease, with all
the care that celebrated professors are accustomed to bring to this
delicate operation, mumbling in the meantime, some morsels of biscuit
which he drew from his bag.
He remained a long time absorbed in this occupation, which procured
him one of those extreme delights which the learned alone can enjoy,
and which are unknown to the vulgar. He would probably have forgotten
himself in this labour until night had surprised him, and forced him to
seek shelter, had not a dark shadow come between him and the sun, and
projected its reflection upon the plants he had classified with so much
care.
He mechanically raised his head.
A man, leaning on a long rifle, had stopped before him, and was
contemplating him with a kind of laughing attention. This man was Black
Elk.
"He! he!" he said to the doctor, "what are you doing there, my good
sir? Seeing the grass moved about so, I thought there was a doe in the
thicket, and, devil take me! if I was not on the point of sending a
bullet at you."
"The deuce!" the doctor cried, eyeing him with an expression of terror,
"you should be careful; do you know you might have killed me?"
"Well, I might," the trapper replied, laughing; "but don't be afraid! I
perceived my error in time."
"God be praised!"
And the doctor, who had just perceived a rare plant stooped eagerly to
seize it.
"Then you won't tell me what you are doing?" the hunter continued.
"Why, can't you see, my friend?"
"Who, I? Yes; I see you are amusing yourself with pulling up the weeds
of the prairie, that is all; and I should like to know what for?"
"Oh! ignorance!" the savant murmured, and then added aloud with
that tone of doctorial condescension peculiar to the disciples of
Æsculapius: "my friend, I am gathering simples, which I collect, in
order to classify them in my herbal; the _flora_ of these prairies is
magnificent; I am convinced that I have discovered at least three new
species of the _Chirostemon pentadactylon,_ of which the genus belongs
to the _Flora Mexicana_."
"Ah!" said the hunter, staring with all his eyes, and making strong
efforts to refrain from laughing in the doctor's face. "You think you
have really found three new species of--"
"Chirostemon pentadactylon, my friend," said the doctor, patronizingly.
"Ah! bah!"
"At least; perhaps there may be a fourth!"
"Oh! oh! there is some use in it, then?"
"Some use in it, indeed!" the doctor cried, much scandalized.
"Well, don't be angry, I know nothing about it."
"That is true!" said the savant, softened by the tone of Black Elk;
"You cannot comprehend the importance of these labours, which advance
science at an immense speed."
"Well, only to think! And it was only for the purpose of pulling up
herbs in this manner that you came into the prairie?"
"For nothing else."
Black Elk looked at him with the admiration created by the sight of an
inexplicable phenomenon; the hunter could not succeed in comprehending
how a sensible man should resolve willingly to endure a life of
privation and perils for the, to him, unintelligible object of pulling
up useless plants; therefore he soon came to a conviction that he must
be mad. He cast upon him a look of commiseration; shaking his head, and
shouldering his rifle, he prepared to go on his way.
"Well! well!" he said, in the tone usually employed towards children,
and idiots; "you are right, my good sir; pull away! pull away! you do
nobody any harm, and there will always be plenty left. I wish you good
sport; such as it is. I shall see you again."
And, whistling his dogs, he proceeded a few steps, but almost
immediately returned.
"One word more," he said, addressing the doctor, who had already
forgotten him, and was again busied in the employment which the arrival
of the hunter had forced him to interrupt.
"Speak!" he replied, raising his head.
"I hope that the young lady who came to visit my hatto yesterday, in
company with her uncle, is well? Poor dear child, you cannot imagine how
much I am interested in her, my good sir!"
The doctor rose up suddenly, striking his forehead.
"Fool that I am!" he cried, "I had completely forgotten it."
"Forgotten what?" the astonished hunter asked.
"This is always my way!" the savant muttered; "fortunately the mischief
is not great; as you are here, it can easily be repaired."
"What mischief are you talking about?" said the trapper, beginning to
feel uneasy.
"You may imagine," the doctor continued, quietly, "that if science
absorbs me so completely as to make me often forget to eat and drink, I
am likely sometimes not to remember the commissions I am charged with."
"To the point! to the point!" said the hunter impatiently.
"Oh! good Lord, it's very simple. I left the camp at daybreak to come
to your hatto; but when I arrived here, I was so charmed with the
innumerable rare plants that my horse trod under foot, that without
thinking of pursuing my route, I stopped at first to pull up one plant,
then I perceived another that was not in my herbal, and another after
that, and so on.--In short, I thought no more of coming to you, and
was, indeed, so absorbed by my researches, that even your unexpected
presence, just now, did not recall to my mind the commission I had to
you."
"And did you leave the camp at daybreak?"
"Good Heavens, yes!"
"And do you know what o'clock it is now?"
The savant looked at the sun.
"Almost three!" he said, "but I repeat that it is of little consequence.
You being here, I can report to you what Doña Luz charged me to tell
you, and all will be right, no doubt."
"God grant that your negligence may not prove the cause of a great
misfortune," said the hunter, with a sigh.
"What do you mean by that?"
"You will soon know. I hope I may be deceived. Speak, I am listening to
you."
"This is what Doña Luz begged me to repeat to you----"
"Was it Doña Luz that sent you to me?"
"Herself!"
"Has anything serious taken place at the camp, then?"
"Ah! why, yes; and that, perhaps, may make it more important than I
at first imagined. This is what has happened: Last night one of our
guides----"
"The Babbler?"
"The same. Do you know him?"
"Yes. Go on."
"Well! It appears that the man was plotting with another bandit of his
own sort, to deliver up the camp to the Indians. Doña Luz, most probably
by chance, overheard the conversation of these fellows, and, at the
moment they were passing her, she fired two pistols at them, quite
close."
"Did she kill them?"
"Unfortunately, no. One of them, although no doubt grievously wounded,
was able to escape."
"Which of them?"
"The Babbler."
"Well, and then?"
"Why, then Doña Luz made me swear to come to you, and say stop a bit,"
said the savant, trying to recollect the words.
"Black Elk, the hour is come!" the hunter, impetuously interrupted.
"That's it! that's it!" said the savant, rubbing his hands for joy,
"I had it at the tip of my tongue. I must confess it appeared rather
obscure to me, I could not fancy what it meant; but you will explain it,
will you not?"
The hunter seized him vigorously by the arm, and drawing his face close
to his own, he said, with an inflamed look and features contracted by
anger,--
"Wretched madman! why do you not come to me as quickly as possible,
instead of wasting your time like an idiot? Your delay will, perhaps,
cause the death of all your friends!"
"Is it possible!" cried the chapfallen doctor, without noticing the
somewhat rough manner in which the hunter shook him.
"You were charged with a message of life and death, fool that you are!
Now, what is to be done? Perhaps it is too late!"
"Oh! do not say so," said the savant, in great agitation, "I should die
with despair if it were so."
The poor man burst into tears, and gave unequivocal proofs of the
greatest grief.
Black Elk was obliged to console him.
"Come, come, courage, my good sir!" he said, softening a little. "What
the devil, perhaps all is not lost?"
"Oh! if I were the cause of such a misfortune, I should never survive
it!"
"Well, what is done, is done; we must act accordingly," said the trapper
philosophically. "I will think how they are to be assisted. Thanks be
to God, I am not so much alone as might be supposed--I hope within two
hours to have got together thirty of the best rifles in the prairies."
"You will save them, will you not?"
"At least, I will do all that can be done, and, if it please God, I
shall succeed."
"May Heaven hear you!"
"Amen!" said the hunter, crossing himself devoutly. "Now, listen to me;
you must return to the camp."
"Immediately!"
"But no more gathering of flowers, or pulling up of grass, if you
please."
"Oh, I swear I will not. Cursed be the hour in which I set myself to
herbalize!" said the doctor, with comic despair.
"Very well, that's agreed. You must comfort the young lady as well as
her uncle; you must recommend them to keep good guard, and, in case of
an attack, to make a vigorous resistance; and tell them they shall soon
see friends come to their assistance."
"I will tell them all that."
"To horse, then, and gallop all the way to the camp."
"Be satisfied, I will; but you, what are you going to do?"
"Oh! don't trouble yourself about me. I shall not be idle; all you have
to do is to rejoin your friends as soon as possible."
"Within an hour I shall be with them."
"Courage and good luck, then! Above all, don't despair."
Black Elk let go the bridle which he had seized, and the doctor set off
at a gallop, a pace to which the good man was so little accustomed, that
he had great trouble to preserve his equilibrium.
The trapper watched his departure for an instant, then, turning round,
he strode with hasty steps into the forest.
He had scarcely walked ten minutes when he met Nô Eusebio, who was
conveying the mother of Loyal Heart across his saddle, in a fainting
state.
This meeting was for the trapper a piece of good fortune, of which he
took advantage to obtain from the old Spaniard some positive information
about the hunter--information which Eusebio hastened to give him.
The two men then repaired to the hatto of the trapper, from which they
were but a short distance, and in which they wished to place the mother
of their friend for the present.
CHAPTER V.
THE ALLIANCE.
We must now return to Loyal Heart.
After walking straight forward about ten minutes, without giving himself
the trouble to follow one of those innumerable paths that intersect the
prairie in all directions, the hunter stopped, put the butt end of his
gun to the ground, looked round carefully on all sides, lent his ear
to those thousands of noises of the desert which all have a meaning
for the man accustomed to a prairie life; and, probably satisfied with
the result of his observations, he imitated, at three different equal
intervals the cry of the pie, with such perfection, that several of
those birds, concealed among the thickest of the trees, replied to him
immediately.
The third cry had scarcely ceased to vibrate in the air, ere the forest,
mute till that moment, and apparently plunged in complete solitude,
became animated as if by enchantment.
On all sides arose, from the midst of bushes and grass, in which they
had been concealed, a crowd of hunters with energetic countenances and
picturesque costumes, who formed, in an instant, a dense crowd round the
trapper.
It chanced that the two first faces that caught the eye of Loyal Heart
were those of Black Elk and Nô Eusebio, both posted at a few paces from
him.
"Oh!" he said, holding out his hand eagerly; "I understand it all, my
friends. Thanks! a thousand thanks for your cordial coming; but, praise
be to God! your succour is not necessary."
"So much the better!" said Black Elk.
"But how did you get out of the hands of those devilish redskins?" the
old servant asked, eagerly.
"Don't speak ill of the Comanches," Loyal Heart replied, with a smile;
"they are now my brothers."
"Do you speak seriously?" cried Black Elk, with warmth; "can you really
be on good terms with the Indians?"
"You shall judge for yourself. Peace is made between them and me, my
friends. If agreeable to you, I will introduce you to each other."
"By Heaven! at the present moment nothing could fall out more
fortunately," said Black Elk; "and as you are free, we shall be able to
concern ourselves for other people, who are, at this moment, in great
peril, and stand in need of our immediate assistance."
"What do you mean?" Loyal Heart asked, with a curiosity mingled with
interest.
"I mean, that some people to whom you have already rendered great
services, on the occasion of the last fire in the prairie, are at this
moment surrounded by a band of pirates, who will soon attack them, if
they have not already done so.
"We must fly to their assistance!" cried Loyal Heart, with an emotion he
could not control.
"Well, that was our intention; but we wished to deliver you first, Loyal
Heart. You are the soul of our association; without you we should have
done no good."
"Thanks! my friends. But now, you see, I am free, so there is nothing to
stop us; let us set forward immediately."
"I crave your pardon," Black Elk replied; "but we have to deal with a
strong body. The pirates, who know they have no pity to look for, fight
like so many tigers. The more numerous we are, the better will be our
chance of success."
"That is true; but what do you aim at?"
"At this--since you have made, in our name, peace with the Indians, it
could be so managed that they----"
"By Heavens! you are right, Black Elk," Loyal Heart interrupted him,
eagerly. "I did not think of that. The Indian warriors will be delighted
at the opportunity we shall offer them of showing their valour. They
will joyfully assist us in our expedition. I take upon myself to
persuade them. Follow me, all of you. I will present you to my new
friends."
The trappers drew together, and formed a compact band of forty men.
Arms were reversed, in sign of peace, and all, following the steps of
the hunter, directed their course towards the camp of the Comanches.
"And my mother?" Loyal Heart asked Eusebio, with a broken voice.
"She is in safety in the hatto of Black Elk."
"And how is she?"
"As well as you could expect, though suffering from great uneasiness,"
the old man replied. "Your mother is a woman who only lives by the
heart. She is endowed with immense courage, the greatest physical pains
glide over her. She now feels but slightly the effects of the atrocious
tortures she had begun to undergo."
"God be praised! But she must no longer be left in these mortal doubts;
where is your horse?"
"Hidden, close by."
"Mount, and return to my mother. Assure her of my safety, and then both
of you retire to the grotto of Verdigris, where she will be out of all
danger. You will remain with her. That grotto is easily found; it is
situated at a small distance from the rock of the Dead Buffalo. When you
get there, you have nothing to do but to let loose my rastreros, which
I will leave you, and they will lead you straight to it. Do you clearly
understand me?"
"Perfectly."
"Begone then. Here we are at the camp; your presence is useless here,
whilst yonder it is indispensable."
"I am gone!"
"Adieu! we'll meet again."
Nô Eusebio whistled the bloodhounds, which he leashed together; he then,
after another shake of the hand with his young master, left the troop,
turned to the right, and resumed the way to the forest. The hunters, in
the meantime, arrived at the entrance of the glade in which the camp of
the Indians was established.
The Comanches formed, a few paces behind the first lines of their camp,
a vast semicircle, in the centre of which stood their chiefs.
To do honour to their newly-arrived friends, they had put on their
handsomest costumes. They were painted and armed for war.
Loyal Heart halted his troop, and continuing to march on alone, he
unfolded a buffalo robe, which he waved before him.
Eagle Head then quitted the other chiefs, and advanced on his part to
meet the hunter, also waving a buffalo robe in sign of peace.
When the two men were within three paces of each other they stopped.
Loyal Heart spoke the first.
"The Master of Life," he said, "sees into our hearts. He knows that
among us the road is good and open, and that the words which our lungs
breathe and our mouths pronounce are sincere. The white hunters come to
visit their red friends."
"They are welcome!" Eagle Head replied cordially, bowing with the grace
and majestic nobleness which characterize Indians.
After these words the Comanches and the hunters discharged their pieces
into the air, amidst long and loud cries of joy. Then all ceremony was
banished; the two bands mingled, and were confounded so thoroughly that,
at the end of a few minutes, they only formed one.
Loyal Heart, however, who knew from what Black Elk had told him how
precious the moments were, took Eagle Head aside, and explained to him
frankly what he expected from his tribe.
The chief smiled at this request.
"My brother shall be satisfied," he said, "let him but wait a little."
Leaving the hunter, he joined the other chiefs. The crier quickly
mounted upon the roof of a hut, and convoked with loud cries the most
renowned warriors to a meeting in the hut of council.
The demand of Loyal Heart met with general approbation. Ninety chosen
warriors, commanded by Eagle Head, were selected to accompany the
hunters, and co-operate with all their power to secure the success of
the expedition.
When the decision of the chiefs was made known, it created a general joy
throughout the tribe.
The allies were to set forward at sunset, in order to surprise the enemy.
The great war-dance, with all the ceremonies usual upon such occasions,
was danced, the warriors the while continually repeating in chorus:--
"Master of Life, look upon me with a favourable eye, thou hast given me
the courage to open my veins."
When they were on the point of setting out, Eagle Head, who knew what
dangerous enemies they were going to attack, selected twenty warriors
upon whom he could depend, and sent them forward as scouts, after having
given them some scotte wigwas, or bark wood, in order that they might
immediately light a fire as a warning in case of alarm.
He then examined the arms of his warriors, and, satisfied with the
inspection, he gave the orders for departure.
The Comanches and the trappers took the Indian file, and, preceded by
their respective chiefs, they quitted the camp, amidst the good wishes
and exhortations of their friends, who accompanied them to the first
trees of the forest.
The little army consisted of a hundred and thirty resolute men,
perfectly armed, and commanded by chiefs whom no obstacle could stop, no
peril could make recede.
The darkness was dense; the moon, veiled by large black clouds, which
floated heavily in space, only shed at intervals a dull, rayless light,
which, when it disappeared, gave objects a fantastic appearance.
The wind blew in gusts, and filled the ravines with dull, plaintive
moans.
In short, this night was one of those which in the history of humanity
seemed destined to witness the accomplishment of dismal tragedies.
The warriors marched in silence; they looked in the darkness like a
crowd of phantoms escaped from a sepulchre, hastening to accomplish a
work without a name, accursed of God, which night alone could veil with
its shadow.
At midnight the word "halt" was pronounced in a low voice.
They encamped to await news of the scouts.
That is to say, everyone, whether well or ill placed, laid himself down
exactly where he happened to be, in order to be ready at the first
signal.
No fire was lighted.
The Indians, who depend upon their scouts, never post sentinels when
they are upon the warpath.
Two hours passed away.
The camp of the Mexicans was not more than three miles distant at most;
but, before venturing nearer, the chief wished to ascertain whether
the route were free or not; in case it should not be so, what were the
numbers of the enemy who barred the passage, and what plan of attack
they had adopted.
At the moment when Loyal Heart, a prey to impatience, was preparing
to go himself to ascertain what was going on, a rustling, almost
imperceptible at first, but which by degrees increased in enormous
proportions, was heard in the bushes, and two men appeared.
The first was one of the Comanche scouts, the other was the doctor.
The state of the poor savant was truly pitiable.
He had lost his wig; his clothes were in rags; his face was convulsed
with terror; in short, his whole person bore evident traces of struggle
and combat.
When he was brought before Loyal Heart and Eagle Head, he fell
head-foremost to the ground and fainted.
Earnest endeavours were immediately made to restore him to life.
CHAPTER VI.
THE LAST ASSAULT.
The lanceros posted behind the entrenchments had received the pirates
warmly.
The general, exasperated by the death of Captain Aguilar, and perceiving
that with such enemies there was no quarter to be expected, had resolved
to resist to the last, and to kill himself rather than fall into their
hands.
The Mexicans, reckoning the peons and guides, in whom they scarcely
dared to trust, amounted to only seventeen, men and women included.
The pirates were at least thirty.
The numerical disproportion was then great between the besiegers and the
besieged; but thanks to the strong position of the camp, situated on the
summit of a chaos of rocks, this disproportion partly disappeared, and
the forces were nearly equal.
Captain Waktehno had not for an instant deceived himself with regard
to the difficulties of the attack he meditated--difficulties almost
insurmountable in an open assault; therefore he had depended upon a
surprise, and more particularly upon the treachery of the Babbler. It
was only from having been carried away by circumstances, and being
furious at the loss Captain Aguilar had caused him, that he had
ventured upon an assault.
But the first moment of effervescence over, when he saw his men falling
around him like ripe fruit, unrevenged, and without gaining an inch
of ground, he resolved not to retreat, but to change the siege into a
blockade, hoping to be more fortunate during the night by some bold
_coup de main_, or, in the end, certain of reducing the besieged sooner
or later by famine.
He believed himself certain that they would find it impossible to obtain
succour in the prairies, where there were none but Indians, hostile to
the whites, whoever they might be, or trappers and hunters, who cared
very little to intermeddle in affairs that did not at all concern them.
His resolution once taken, the captain put it in execution immediately.
He cast an anxious look around him; his situation was still the same;
notwithstanding their almost superhuman efforts to climb the abrupt
ascent which led to the entrenchments, the pirates had not gained a
single step. The moment a man showed himself openly, a ball from a
Mexican carbine sent him rolling down the precipice.
The captain gave the signal for retreat; that is to say, he imitated the
cry of the prairie dogs.
The combat ceased instantly.
The spot, which an instant before was animated by the cries of
combatants and the continued report of firearms, sank suddenly into the
completest silence.
Only, as soon as the men had paused in their work of destruction, the
condors, the vultures, and urubus commenced theirs.
After pirates, birds of prey! that is according to the order of things.
Swarms of condors, vultures, and urubus came hovering over the dead
bodies, upon which they fell uttering sharp cries, and made a horrible
carnage of human flesh, in sight of the Mexicans, who did not dare to
leave their entrenchments, and were forced to remain spectators of this
hideous banquet of the wild creatures.
The pirates rallied in a ravine, out of reach of the fire, and counted
their numbers.
Their losses were enormous; out of forty, nineteen only remained.
In less than an hour they had had twenty-one killed, more than half of
their whole band.
The Mexicans, with the exception of Captain Aguilar, had neither killed
nor wounded.
The loss the pirates had sustained made them reflect seriously upon the
affair.
The greater number were of opinion it would be best to retire, and give
up an expedition which presented so many dangers and so few hopes of
success.
The captain was even more discouraged than his companions.
Certes, if it had only been to gain gold or diamonds, he would, without
hesitation, have resigned his projects; but a feeling more strong than
the desire of wealth influenced his actions, and excited him to carry
the adventure through, whatever might be the consequences to him.
The treasure he coveted--a treasure of incalculable price--was Doña
Luz, the girl whom he had, in Mexico, rescued from the hands of his
own bandits, and for whom he entertained a violent, boundless,
characteristic passion.
From Mexico he had followed her step by step, watching, like a wild
beast, for an opportunity of carrying off his prey, for the possession
of which no sacrifice was too great, no difficulty insuperable, and no
danger worthy of consideration.
Therefore did he bring into play upon his bandits all the resources that
speech gives to a man influenced by passion, to keep them with him,
to raise their courage, and to induce them to attempt one more attack
before retiring and definitely renouncing the expedition.
He had much trouble in persuading them; as generally happens in such
cases, the bravest had been killed, and the survivors did not feel
themselves at all inclined to expose themselves to a similar fate. By
dint, however, of persuasions and menaces, the captain succeeded in
getting from the bandits the promise of remaining till the next day, and
of attempting a decisive blow during the night.
This being agreed upon between the pirates and their chief, Waktehno
ordered his men to conceal themselves as well as they could, but,
above all, not to stir without his orders, whatever they might see the
Mexicans do.
The captain hoped, by remaining invisible, to persuade the besieged
that, discouraged by the enormous difficulties they had met with, the
pirates had resolved to retreat, and had, in fact, done so.
This plan was not at all unskilful, and it, in fact, produced almost all
the results which its author expected.
The glowing fires of the setting sun gilded with their last rays the
summits of the rocks and the trees; the evening breeze, which was
rising, refreshed the air; the great luminary was about to disappear on
the horizon, in a bed of purple vapours.
Silence was only disturbed by the deafening cries of the birds of prey,
that continued their cannibal banquet, quarrelling with ferocious
inveteracy over the fragments of flesh which they tore from the dead
bodies.
The general, with a heart deeply moved by this spectacle, when he
reflected that Captain Aguilar, a man whose heroic devotion had saved
them all, was exposed to this horrible profanation, resolved not to
abandon his body, and, cost what it might, to go and bring it in, in
order to give it sepulture,--a last homage due to the young man who had
not hesitated to sacrifice himself for him.
Doña Luz, to whom he communicated his intention, although perfectly
sensible of the danger, had not the heart to oppose it.
The general selected four resolute men, and scaling the entrenchments,
he advanced at their head towards the spot where the body of the
unfortunate captain lay.
The lanceros left in the camp kept a watchful eye upon the plain, ready
to protect their bold companions with energy, if they were interrupted
in their pious task.
The pirates concealed in the clefts of the rocks did not lose one of
their movements, but were most careful not to betray their presence.
The general was able, therefore, to accomplish unmolested the duty he
had imposed upon himself.
He had no difficulty in finding the body of the young man.
He lay half prostrate at the foot of a tree, holding a pistol in one
hand and his machete in the other, his head elevated, his look fixed,
and a smile upon his lips, as if even after death he still defied those
who had killed him.
His body was literally covered with wounds; but, by a strange chance,
which the general remarked with joy, up to that moment the birds of prey
had respected it.
The lanceros placed the body upon their crossed guns, and returned to
the camp at quick march.
The general followed at a short distance from them, observing and
watching every bush and thicket.
But nothing stirred; the greatest tranquillity prevailed everywhere;
the pirates had disappeared, without leaving any other traces but their
dead, whom they appeared to have abandoned.
The general began to hope that his enemies were really gone, and he
breathed a sigh, as if relieved from an oppression of the heart.
Night came on with its habitual rapidity; all eyes were fixed upon the
lanceros, who bore back their dead officer, but no one remarked a score
of phantoms who glided silently over the rocks, drawing, by degrees,
nearer to the camp, close to which they concealed themselves, keeping
their ferocious looks fixed upon its defenders.
The general caused the body to be placed upon a bed prepared in haste,
and taking a spade, he insisted upon himself digging the grave in which
the young man was to be deposited. All the lanceros ranged themselves
around him, leaning on their arms. The general took off his hat, and
from a prayer book read with a loud voice the Service of the Dead, to
which his niece and all present responded.
There was something grand and impressive in this simple ceremony, in the
midst of the desert, whose thousand mysterious voices appeared likewise
to modulate a prayer, in face of that sublime nature upon which the
finger of God is traced in so visible a manner.
This white-headed old man, piously reading the office of the dead over
the body of a young man, little more than a boy, full of life but a few
hours before, having around him that young girl, and these sad, pensive
soldiers, whom the same fate, perhaps, threatened soon to overtake, but
who, calm and resigned, prayed with fervour for him who was no more;
this noble prayer, rising in the night, accompanied by the moanings and
the breezes of evening, which passed quivering through the branches of
the trees, recalled the early times of Christianity, when, persecuted
and forced to hide itself, it took refuge in the desert, to be nearer to
God.
Nothing occurred to disturb the accomplishment of this last duty.
After every person present had once again taken a melancholy farewell
of the dead, he was lowered into the grave, enveloped in his cloak; his
arms were placed by his side, and the grave was filled up.
A slight elevation of the sod, which would soon disappear, alone marked
the place where reposed for ever the body of a man whose unfamed heroism
had saved by a sublime devotedness those who had confided to him the
care of their safety.
The mourners separated, swearing to avenge the dead, or that failing, to
do as he had done.
Darkness was now spread over all.
The general, after having made a last round, to satisfy himself that the
sentinels were steady at their posts, wished his niece a good night, and
laid himself down across the entrance of her tent, on the outside.
Three hours passed away in perfect quiet.
All at once, like a legion of demons, a score of men silently scaled
the entrenchments, and before the sentinels, surprised by this sudden
attack, could attempt the least resistance, they were seized and
slaughtered.
The camp of the Mexicans was invaded by the pirates, and in their train
entered murder and pillage!
CHAPTER VII.
THE BATTLE.
The pirates bounded into the camp like jackals, howling and brandishing
their weapons.
As soon as the camp was invaded, the captain left his people to pillage
and kill at their pleasure. Without concerning himself any more about
them, he rushed towards the tent.
But there his passage was barred. The general had rallied seven or eight
men round him, and awaited the bandit firmly, resolved to die rather
than allow one of those wretches to touch his niece.
At the sight of the old soldier, with his flashing eye, his pistol in
one hand and his sword in the other, the captain paused.
But this pause did not last longer than a flash of lightning; he got
together a half-score of pirates by a shout for help.
"Give way!" he said, brandishing his machete.
"Come on!" the general said, biting his moustache with fury.
The two men rushed upon each other, their people imitated them, and the
_mêlée_ became general.
Then followed a terrible and merciless struggle between men who, on both
sides, knew they had no pity to expect.
Everyone endeavoured to make his blows mortal, without taking the
trouble to parry those dealt upon himself, satisfied with falling,
provided that in his fall he could drag down his adversary.
The wounded endeavoured to rise, for the purpose of burying their
poniards in the bodies of those who were fighting around them.
This fierce contest could not last long; all the lanceros were
massacred; the general fell in his turn, struck down by the captain, who
threw himself upon him and bound him tightly with his belt, in order to
prevent the possibility of his resisting any further.
The general had only received slight wounds, which had scarcely
penetrated to the flesh; for the captain, for reasons best known to
himself, had carefully protected him during the combat, parrying with
his machete the blows which the bandits tried to inflict upon him.
He wished to take his enemy alive, and he had succeeded.
All the Mexicans had fallen, it is true, but the victory had cost the
pirates dear; more than half of them were killed.
The general's Negro, armed with an enormous club, which he had made of
the trunk of a young tree, for a long time resisted all who attempted to
take him, crushing without mercy all who imprudently came within reach
of the weapon which he handled with such uncommon dexterity.
His enemies at length succeeded in lassoing him, and casting him
half-strangled to the ground; the captain, however, came to his rescue
at the moment when a pirate was raising his arm to put an end to him.
As soon as the captain found the general incapable of moving, he uttered
a cry of joy, and without stopping to stanch the blood of two wounds he
had received he bounded like a tiger over the body of his enemy, who was
writhing powerless at his feet, and penetrated into the tent.
It was empty!
Doña Luz had disappeared.
The captain was thunderstruck!
What could have become of the girl?
The tent was small, almost void of furniture, it was impossible she
could be concealed in it.
A disordered bed proved that at the moment of the surprise, Doña Luz had
been sleeping peaceably.
She had vanished like a sylph, without leaving any trace of her flight.
A flight perfectly incomprehensible to the pirate, as the camp had been
invaded on all sides at once.
How was it possible for a young girl, awakened suddenly, to have
had courage and presence of mind enough to fly so quickly, and pass
unperceived amidst conquerors whose first care had been to guard all the
issues?
The captain sought in vain the solution of this enigma. He stamped with
anger, and plunged his poniard into the packages that might serve as
temporary places of refuge for the fugitive; but all without success.
Convinced at length that all his researches in the tent were in vain,
he rushed out, prowling about like a wild beast, persuaded that if by a
miracle she had succeeded in escaping, alone in the night, half dressed,
wandering in the desert, he should easily find her again.
In the meantime, the pillage went on with a celerity and an order in its
disorder, which did honour to the practical knowledge of the pirates.
The conquerors, fatigued with killing and robbing, plunged their
poniards into the skins filled with mezcal, and an orgie soon succeeded
theft and murder.
All at once a loud and fierce cry resounded at a little distance, and a
shower of bullets came pattering full upon the bandits.
Surprised in their turn, they flew to their arms, and endeavoured to
rally.
At the same instant, a mass of Indians appeared, bounding like jaguars
among the packages, closely followed by a troop of hunters, at the head
of whom were Loyal Heart, Belhumeur, and Black Elk.
The position became critical for the pirates.
The captain, recalled to himself by the peril his people ran, left with
regret the fruitless search he was engaged in, and grouping his men
around him, he carried off the only two prisoners he had made, that is
to say, the general and his black servant, and taking skilful advantage
of the tumult inseparable from an eruption like that of the allies, he
ordered his men to disperse in all directions, in order to escape more
easily the blows of their adversaries.
After one sharp fire, which caused a slight pause among the Indians, the
pirates flew away like a cloud of unclean birds of prey, and disappeared
in the darkness. But, whilst flying, the captain, left last to support
the retreat, did not cease, as he glided along the rocks, still to seek,
as much as was possible in the precipitation of his night, for traces of
the young girl; but he could discover nothing.
The disappointed captain retired with rage in his heart, revolving in
his head the most sinister projects.
Loyal Heart, warned by the Indian scout, and more particularly by the
recital of the doctor, of the proposed attack upon the camp, had marched
immediately, in order to bring succour to the Mexicans as soon as
possible.
Unfortunately, in spite of the celerity of their march, the trappers and
the Comanches arrived too late to save the caravan.
When the leaders of the expedition became assured of the flight of the
pirates, Eagle Head and his warriors set off on their track.
Left master of the camp, Loyal Heart ordered a general battue in the
neighbouring thickets and high grass, which the bandits had not had time
to explore in detail, for they had scarcely obtained possession of the
camp before they were driven out of it again.
This battue brought to light Phoebe, the young servant of Doña Luz,
and two lanceros, who had taken refuge in the trunk of a tree, and who
arrived more dead than alive, conducted by Black Elk and some hunters,
who tried in vain to re-assure them, and revive their courage.
The poor devils still believed themselves in the hands of the pirates,
and Loyal Heart had great difficulty in persuading them that the people
they saw were friends who had come too late to succour them, but who
would not do them any harm.
As soon as they were sufficiently restored to speak collectedly, Loyal
Heart went with them into the tent, and required of them a succinct
account of all that had taken place.
The young quadroon, when she saw with whom she had to do, all at once,
regained her wonted assurance; and besides, haying recognized Loyal
Heart, she did not require much coaxing to set her tongue going, and in
a few minutes made the hunter acquainted with all the terrible events of
which she had been a spectatress.
"So," he asked, "Captain Aguilar was killed, was he?"
"Alas! yes!" the young girl replied, with a sigh of regret for the poor
young officer.
"And the general?" said the hunter.
"Oh! as to the general," said the girl briskly, "he defended himself
like a lion, and only fell after a heroic resistance."
"Is he dead, then?" Loyal Heart asked, with great emotion.
"Oh! no!" she said almost cheerfully, "he is only wounded. I saw the
bandits pass as they carried him away; I even believe that his wounds
are slight, so much did the ladrones spare him during the combat."
"I am glad to hear it!" said the hunter; and he hung his head with a
pensive air: then, after a pause of an instant, he added, hesitatingly,
and with a slight tremor in his voice, "your young mistress, what has
become of her?"
"My mistress, Doña Luz?"
"Yes, Doña Luz--for so I believe she is called; I would give much to
know where she is, and to be certain she is in safety."
"She is so, since she is near you," said a harmonious voice.
And Doña, Luz appeared, still pale from the poignant emotions she had
undergone, but calm; she had a smile on her lips, and her eyes sparkled
brilliantly.
No one present could repress a movement of extreme surprise at the
unexpected apparition of the young lady.
"Oh! God be praised!" the hunter cried; "our succour has not, then, been
completely useless."
"No," replied she, kindly; but she shortly added with sadness, whilst a
shade of melancholy clouded her features, "now that I have lost him who
was to me as a father, I come to ask your protection, Caballero."
"It is yours, madam," he replied with warmth. "And as to your uncle, oh!
depend upon me; I will restore him to you, if the enterprise costs me my
life. You know," he added, "that before today I have proved my devotion
to you and him."
The first emotion over, it became a question how the young girl had
succeeded in escaping the researches of the pirates.
Doña Luz gave as simple an account as possible of what had passed.
The young lady had thrown herself, with all her clothes on, upon the
bed; but anxiety kept her awake, a secret presentiment warned her to be
on her guard.
At the cry uttered by the pirates, she started from her bed in terror
and amazement, and at once perceived that flight was impossible.
Whilst casting a terrified look around her, she perceived some clothes
thrown in a disorderly manner into a hammock, and hanging over the sides
of it.
An idea, which appeared to come to her from Heaven, shot across her
brain like a luminous flash.
She glided under these clothes, and curling herself up into as little
space as possible, she crouched at the bottom of the hammock, without
altering the disordered state of the things.
God had ordained it that the chief of the bandits, while searching, as
he thought, everywhere, never dreamt of plunging his hand into what
seemed an empty hammock.
Saved by this chance, she remained thus huddled up for full an hour, a
prey to fears of the most appalling nature.
The arrival of the hunters, together with the voice of Loyal Heart,
which she soon recognized, restored her to hope; she left the place of
her concealment, and had impatiently waited for a favourable moment to
present herself.
The hunters were wonderstruck at a recital at once so simple and so
affecting; they cordially congratulated the young lady upon her courage
and presence of mind, which alone had saved her.
When a little order was re-established in the camp Loyal Heart waited
upon Doña Luz.
"Señora," he said, "it will not be long before day appears; when you
have taken a few hours' repose, I will conduct you to my mother, who is
a pious, good woman; when she knows you, I feel certain she will love
you as a daughter. And then, as soon as you are in safety, I will set
earnestly about restoring your uncle to you."
Without waiting for the thanks of the young lady, he bowed respectfully,
and left the tent.
When he had disappeared, Doña Luz sighed, and sank pensively down upon a
seat.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE CAVERN OF VERDIGRIS.
Ten days had passed away since the events related in our last chapter.
We will conduct the reader, between three and four o'clock in the
afternoon, into the grotto discovered by Belhumeur, of which Loyal Heart
had made his chosen habitation.
The interior of the cavern, lighted by numerous torches of that wood
which the Indians call candlewood, which burned, fixed at distances on
the projections of the rock, presented the aspect of a halt of gipsies,
or of an encampment of bandits, whichever the stranger might fancy, who
should chance to be admitted to visit it.
Forty trappers and Comanche warriors were dispersed about here and
there; some were sleeping, others smoking, other cleaning their arms or
repairing their clothes; a few, crouching before two or three fires,
over which were suspended cauldrons, and where enormous joints of
venison were roasting, were preparing the repast for their companions.
At each place of issue two sentinels, motionless, but with eyes and ears
on the watch, silently provided for the common safety.
In a compartment separated naturally from the larger one by a block of
projecting rock, two women and a man, upon seats rudely cut with the
hatchet, were conversing in a low voice.
The two women were Doña Luz and the mother of Loyal Heart; the man
who looked at them, while smoking his husk cigarette, and mingled
occasionally in the conversation by an interjection drawn from him by
surprise, admiration, or joy, was Eusebio, the old Spanish servant, of
whom we have often spoken in the course of our narrative.
At the entrance of this compartment, which formed a kind of separate
chamber in the cavern, another man was walking backwards and forwards,
with his hands behind his back, whistling between his teeth an air which
he probably composed as his thoughts dictated.
This man was Black Elk.
Loyal Heart, Eagle Head, and Belhumeur were absent.
The conversation of the two women appeared to interest them greatly.
The mother of the hunter often exchanged significant looks with her
old servant, who had allowed his cigarette to go out, but who kept on
smoking it mechanically, without perceiving it.
"Oh!" said the old lady, clasping her hands with fervour, and raising
her eyes toward heaven, "the finger of the Almighty is in all this!"
"Yes," Eusebio replied, with profound conviction; "it is He who has done
it!"
"Tell me, my darling; during the two months of your journey, did your
uncle, the general, never give you a glimpse, by his words, his actions,
or his proceedings, of the object of this expedition?"
"Never!" Doña Luz replied.
"That is strange!" the old lady murmured.
"Strange, indeed," Eusebio repeated, who still persisted in endeavouring
to draw smoke from his extinguished cigarette.
"But tell me," the mother of Loyal Heart resumed, "when you arrived in
the prairies, how did your uncle employ his time? Pardon me, my child,
these questions which must surprise you, but which are not at all
dictated by curiosity; hereafter you will understand me, and you will
then acknowledge that the lively interest I take in you alone leads me
to interrogate you."
"I do not at all doubt it, señora," Doña Luz replied, with a charming
smile; "therefore I have no difficulty in replying to you. My uncle,
after our arrival in the prairies, became dull and preoccupied; he
sought for the society of men accustomed to the life of the desert, and
when he met with one, he would converse with him and interrogate him for
hours together."
"And about what did he interrogate him, my child? Do you recollect?"
"Good heavens! señora, I must confess to my shame," the young girl
replied, blushing slightly, "that I did not give great attention to this
conversation, which I thought at least could interest me but little. I,
a poor child, whose life up to that period had glided away sadly and
monotonously, and who had seen nothing of the world but through the
gratings of my convent, admired the magnificent nature which had, as if
by enchantment, risen before me; I had only eyes enough to contemplate
these wonders; and I adored the Creator whose infinite power had been
revealed to me thus suddenly."
"That is true, dear child; pardon me these questions, which fatigue you,
and whose object you cannot perceive," said the good lady, imprinting a
kiss upon her brow; "if you wish it, we will speak of something else."
"As you please, señora," the young girl answered, returning her kiss. "I
am most happy to talk with you, and whatever subject you choose, I am
sure I shall always take great interest in it."
"But we are talking idly, and forgetting my poor son, who has been
absent since morning, and who, according to what he told me, ought to
have returned by this time."
"Oh! I hope nothing can have happened to him," cried Doña Luz.
"You take great interest in him, then?" the old lady remarked, with a
smile.
"Ah! señora," she replied, with emotion, whilst a vivid blush rose to
her cheeks, "can I do otherwise, after the services he has rendered us,
and will continue to render us, I am sure?"
"My son has promised to deliver your uncle; be assured that he will
fulfil his promise."
"Oh! I do not at all doubt it, señora. What a noble, grand character!"
she cried with warmth; "how justly is he named Loyal Heart!"
The old lady and Eusebio looked at her and smiled; they were delighted
with the enthusiasm of the young girl.
Doña Luz perceived the attention with which they were looking at her.
She stopped short in confusion, hung down her head, and blushed more
than ever.
"Oh!" said the old lady, taking her hand, "you may go on, my child;
I am pleased to hear you speak thus of my son. Yes," she added, in a
melancholy tone, and as if talking to herself, "yes; his is a grand and
noble character. Like all exalted natures, he is misunderstood: but
patience! God is trying him, and the day will come when justice will be
rendered him in the face of all men."
"Can he, then, be unhappy?" the young girl ventured to ask, timidly.
"I do not say he is, my child," the good mother answered, with a stifled
sigh. "In this world who can flatter himself with being happy? Everyone
has his troubles, which he must bear; the Almighty measures the burden
according to the strength of every man."
A movement was heard in the grotto; several men entered.
"Here is your son, señora," said Black Elk.
"Thank you, my friend," she replied.
"Oh! I am so glad!" said Doña Luz, springing up joyfully.
But ashamed of this inconsiderate movement, the girl sank back, confused
and blushing, into her seat again.
It was, in fact Loyal Heart, but he was not alone. Belhumeur and Eagle
Head accompanied him, as did several other trappers.
As soon as he was in the grotto, the young man directed his steps
hastily towards his mother's retreat; he kissed her, and then turning
towards Doña Luz, he bowed to her with a degree of embarrassment that
was not natural to him, and which the old lady could not but remark.
The young lady returned him a salutation not less confused than his own.
"Well," he said, with a cheerful smile, "you must have been very tired
of waiting for me, my noble prisoners. Time must travel slowly in this
horrible grotto. Pardon me for having confined you to such a hideous
dwelling, Doña Luz--you are made to inhabit splendid palaces. Alas! this
is the most magnificent of my habitations."
"With the mother of him who has saved my life, señor," the girl replied,
nobly, "I think myself lodged like a queen, whatever be the place I
inhabit."
"You are a thousand times too good, señora," the hunter stammered; "you
really make me confused."
"Well, my son," the old lady interrupted, with the evident intention of
giving another turn to the conversation, which began to be embarrassing
for the two young people, "what have you done today? Have you any good
news to give us? Doña Luz is very uneasy about her uncle; she longs to
see him again."
"I can quite understand the señora's anxiety," the hunter replied,
"which I hope soon to be able to put an end to. We have not done much
today; we have found it impossible to get upon the track of the bandits.
It is enough to drive a man wild with vexation. Fortunately, as we
returned, at a few paces from the grotto, we met with the doctor, who,
according to his praiseworthy custom, was seeking herbs in the clefts
of the rocks, and he told us that he has seen a man of suspicious
appearance prowling about the neighbourhood. We immediately went upon
the hunt, and were not long in discovering an individual whom we took
prisoner, and have brought hither with us."
"You see, señor," said Doña Luz, with a playful air, "that it is
sometimes of use to be seeking simples. Our dear doctor has, according
to all appearance, rendered you a great service."
"Without his will being concerned in the matter," said Loyal Heart,
laughing.
"I do not say the contrary," the young girl rejoined, banteringly, "but
it exists none the less; it is to the herbs you owe it."
"Seeking for herbs may have a good purpose, I agree; but everything in
its proper time; without unjustly reproaching him, the doctor has not
always known when to choose it."
Notwithstanding the seriousness of the facts to which these words
referred, the hearers could not repress a smile at the expense of the
unlucky savant.
"Come! come!" said Doña Luz, "I will not have my poor doctor attacked;
he has been sufficiently punished for his forgetfulness by the grief to
which he has been a prey since that inauspicious day."
"You are right, señora, and I will say no more about it. Now I must
beg your permission to leave you; my companions are literally dying of
hunger, and the brave fellows wait for me to take their repast."
"But," Eusebio asked, "the man you have taken--what do you mean to do
with him?"
"I do not know yet; as soon as our meal is over, I mean to interrogate
him; his replies will most likely dictate my conduct with regard to him."
The cauldrons were taken off the fire, the quarters of venison were cut
into slices, and the trappers and Indians sat down fraternally near each
other, and ate their repast with a good appetite.
The ladies were served apart in their retreat by Nô Eusebio, who
performed the delicate functions of house steward with a care and a
seriousness worthy of a more suitable scene.
The man who had been arrested near the grotto had been placed under the
guard of two stout trappers, armed to the teeth, who never took their
eyes off him; but he seemed to entertain no wish to escape; on the
contrary, he did honour vigorously to the food that was placed before
him.
As soon as the meal was over, the chiefs drew together apart, and
conversed for a few minutes among themselves in a low voice. Then, upon
the order of Loyal Heart, the prisoner was brought forward, and they
prepared to interrogate him.
This man, at whom they had scarcely looked, was recognized the moment he
was face to face with the chiefs, who could not repress an expression of
surprise.
"Captain Waktehno!" said Loyal Heart, in perfect astonishment.
"Himself, gentlemen!" the pirate replied, with haughty irony; "what have
you to ask of him? He is here ready to answer you."
CHAPTER IX.
DIPLOMACY.
It was an unheard-of piece of audacity in the captain, after what had
taken place, to come thus and deliver himself up, without the slightest
resistance, into the hands of men who would not hesitate to inflict upon
him a severe vengeance.
The hunters were consequently astonished at the proceeding of the
pirate, and began to suspect a snare; their surprise increased in
proportion as they reflected upon his apparent madness.
They perfectly understood that if they had taken him, it was because he
was willing that it should be so; that he had probably some powerful
motive for acting thus, particularly after all the pains he had taken to
conceal his track from all eyes, and find a retreat so impenetrable that
the Indians themselves, those cunning bloodhounds whom nothing generally
could throw off the scent, had given up searching for him.
What did he want amidst his most implacable enemies? What reason
sufficiently strong had been able to induce him to commit the imprudence
of delivering himself up?
This is what the trappers asked each other, whilst looking at him with
that curiosity and that interest which, in spite of ourselves, we are
forced to accord to the intrepid man who accomplishes a bold action,
whatever otherwise may be his moral character.
"Sir," said Loyal Heart, after the pause of a few minutes, "as you have
thought proper to place yourself in our hands, you certainly will not
refuse to reply to the questions we may think proper to put to you?"
A smile of an undefinable expression passed over the thin, pale lips of
the pirate.