to reply to you, gentlemen, but still further, if you will permit,
I will forestall your questions by telling you myself spontaneously
all that has passed, which will enlighten you, I am sure, with regard
to the facts which have appeared obscure, and which you have in vain
endeavoured to make out."
A murmur of stupefaction pervaded the ranks of the trappers, who had
drawn near by degrees, and listened attentively.
The scene assumed strange proportions, and promised to become extremely
interesting.
Loyal Heart reflected for a moment, and then addressed the pirate.
"Do so, sir," he said; "we listen to you."
The Captain bowed, and, with a jeering tone, commenced his recital; when
he arrived at the taking of the camp, he continued thus:--
"It was cleverly played, was it not, gentlemen? Certes, I can look for
nothing but compliments from you who are past masters in such matters;
but there is one thing of which you are ignorant, and which I will tell
you. The capture of the Mexican general's wealth was but of secondary
importance to me, I had another aim, and that aim I will make you
acquainted with--I wished to obtain possession of Doña Luz. From Mexico
I followed the caravan, step by step; I had corrupted the principal
guide, the Babbler, an old friend of mine; abandoning to my companions
the gold and jewels, I desired nothing but the young girl."
"Well, but it seems you missed your aim," Belhumeur interrupted him,
with a sardonic smile.
"Do you think so?" the other replied, with imperturbable assurance.
"Well, you appear to be in the right; I have, for this time, missed my
aim, but all is not yet said, and I may not always miss."
"You speak here, amidst a hundred and fifty of the best rifles of the
prairies about this odious project, with as much confidence as if you
were in safety, surrounded by your own bandits, and concealed in the
depths of one of your most secret dens, captain. This is either an act
of great imprudence or a still more rare piece of insolence," Loyal
Heart said, sternly.
"Bah! the peril is not so great for me as you would make me believe; you
know I am not a man easily intimidated, therefore a truce to threats, if
you please, and let us reason like serious men."
"We hunters, trappers, and Indian warriors, assembled in this grotto,
have the right, acting in the name of our common safety, to apply to you
the laws of the frontiers, an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,
as attainted and convicted, even by your own confession, of robbery,
murder, and an attempt at abduction. This law we mean to apply to you
immediately. What have you to say in your defence?"
"Everything in its turn, Loyal Heart; we will talk about that presently;
but, in the first place, let us terminate, if you please, what I had to
say to you. Be satisfied, it is but the delay of a few minutes; I will
myself revert to that question which you seem to have so much at heart,
as you instal yourself, by your own private authority, judge in the
desert."
"That law is as ancient as the world, it emanates from God himself; it
is the duty of all honest people to run down a wild beast when they meet
with one in their passage."
"The comparison is not flattering," the pirate replied, perfectly
unmoved, "but I am not at all susceptible; I do not easily take offence.
Will you, once for all, allow me to speak?"
"Speak, then, and let us have an end of this."
"That is exactly what I ask; listen to me, then. In this world, every
one comprehends life after his own fashion, some widely, others in
a narrow way; for me, my dream is to retire, a few years hence, to
the depths of one of our beautiful Mexican provinces with a moderate
competency--you see I am not ambitious. A few months back, at the
termination of several tolerably lucrative affairs which I had happily
effected in the prairies by means of courage and address, I found myself
master of a pretty round sum, which, according to my custom, I resolved
to invest, in order to procure me hereafter the moderate competency
of which I was speaking to you. I went to Mexico to place my money in
the hands of an honourable French banker established in that city, who
answered all my expectations, and whom I recommend to you, if you have
occasion for such a person."
"What is all this verbiage to us?" Loyal Heart interrupted, hotly. "You
are laughing at us, captain."
"Not the least in the world. I will go on. In Mexico, chance afforded me
an opportunity of rendering Doña Luz a rather important service."
"You?" said Loyal Heart, angrily.
"Why not?" the other replied. "The affair is very simple. I delivered
her from the hands of four bandits, who were plundering her. I saw her,
and became madly in love with her."
"Man! man!" said the hunter, colouring with vexation; "this exceeds
all bounds. Doña Luz is a young lady who ought never to be spoken of
without the greatest respect. I will not allow her to be insulted in my
presence."
"We are exactly of the same opinion," the other continued, jeeringly;
"but it is none the less true that I fell in love with her. I skilfully
obtained information concerning her; I learnt who she was, the journey
she was about to take; I played successfully, as you see. Then my plan
was laid, which, as you just now said, has completely failed; but which,
nevertheless, I have not yet given up."
"We will endeavour to settle that once for all."
"And you will do well, if you can."
"Now, I suppose, you have finished?"
"Not yet, if you please; but at this point what remains for me to say
renders the presence of Doña Luz indispensable. Upon her alone depends
the success of my mission to you."
"I do not understand you."
"It would be useless for you to understand me at this moment; but rest
satisfied, Loyal Heart, you shall soon have the key to the enigma."
During the whole of this long discussion, the pirate had not for a
moment lost that self-possession, that sneering smile, that bantering
tone, and that freedom of manner, that confounded the hunters.
He bore much more the resemblance to a gentleman on a visit at the house
of a country neighbour, than to a prisoner on the point of being shot.
He did not appear to care the least in the world about the danger he
was running. As soon as he had finished speaking, whilst the trappers
were consulting in a low voice, he employed himself in rolling a husk
cigarette, which he lit and smoked quietly.
"Doña Luz," Loyal Heart resumed, with ill-disguised impatience, "has
nothing to do with these debates; her presence is not necessary."
"You are entirely mistaken, my dear sir," the pirate coolly replied,
puffing out a volume of smoke; "she is indispensable, and for this
reason:--You understand perfectly, do you not, that I am too cunning a
fox to give myself up thus voluntarily into your hands, if I had not
behind me someone whose life would answer for mine. That someone is the
uncle of the young lady. If I am not at midnight in my den, as you do
me the honour to call it, with my brave companions, at precisely ten
minutes after midnight the honourable gentleman will be shot without
fail or pity."
A shudder of anger ran along the ranks of the hunters.
"I know very well," the pirate continued, "that you, personally, care
very little for the life of the general, and would generously sacrifice
it in exchange for mine; but, fortunately for me, Doña Luz, I am
convinced, is not of your opinion, and attaches great value to the
existence of her uncle; be good enough, therefore, to beg her to come
here, in order that she may hear the proposal I have to make her. Time
presses, the way to my encampment is long; if I arrive too late, you
alone will be responsible for the misfortunes that may be caused by my
involuntary delay."
"I am here, sir," said Doña Luz, coming forward. Concealed amidst the
crowd of hunters, she had heard all that had been said.
The pirate threw away his half-consumed cigarette, bowed courteously to
the young lady, and saluted her with respect.
"I am proud of the honour, señora, that you deign to do me."
"A truce to ironical compliments, if you please. I am listening to you;
what have you to say to me?"
"You judge me wrongly, señora," the pirate replied; "but I hope to
reinstate myself in your good opinion hereafter. Do you not recognise
me? I thought I had left a better remembrance in your mind."
"It is possible, sir, that during a certain time I retained a favourable
remembrance of you," the young lady answered, with some degree of
emotion; "but, after what has taken place within these few days, I can
only see in you a robber and a murderer!"
"The terms are harsh, señora."
"Pardon them, if they wound you, sir; but I have not yet recovered from
the terrors you have caused me--terrors which your proceedings of today
augment instead of diminishing. Be pleased, then, without further delay,
to let me know your intentions."
"I am in despair at being thus ill-understood by you, señora. Attribute,
I implore you, all that has happened solely to the violence of the
passion I feel for you, and believe----"
"Sir! you insult me," the young lady interrupted, drawing herself up
haughtily: "what can there be in common between me and the leader of
bandits?"
At this cutting reproof a flush passed over the face of the pirate: he
bit his moustache with anger; but, making a strong effort, he kept down
in the depths of his heart the feelings which agitated him, and replied
in a calm, respectful tone,--
"So be it, señora; crush me--I have deserved it."
"Is it for the purpose of uttering these commonplaces that you have
required my presence here, sir? In that case you will please to allow me
to retire; a lady of my rank is not accustomed to such manners, nor to
listen to such language."
She made a movement as if to rejoin the mother of Loyal Heart, who, on
her side, advanced towards her.
"One instant, señora," the pirate cried, savagely; "since you despise my
prayers, listen to my orders!"
"Your orders!" the hunter shouted, springing close to his side. "Have
you forgotten where you are, miserable scoundrel?"
"Come, come! a truce to threats and abuse, my masters!" the pirate
replied, in a commanding voice, as he crossed his arms upon his breast,
threw up his head, and darted a look of supreme disdain upon all
present. "You know very well you dare do nothing against me--that not a
single hair of my head will fall."
"This is too much!" the hunter ejaculated.
"Stop! Loyal Heart," said Doña Luz, placing herself before him; "this
man is unworthy of your anger. I prefer seeing him thus he is best in
his part of a bandit--he at least plays that without a mask."
"Yes! I have thrown off the mask," the pirate shouted, furiously: "and
now, listen to me, silly girl. In three days I will return--you see I
keep my word," he added, with a sinister smile. "I give you time to
reflect. If you do not then consent to follow me, your uncle shall be
given up to the most atrocious tortures; and, as a last remembrance of
me, I will send you his head."
"Monster!" the poor girl exclaimed, in an accent of despair.
"Ah! you see," said he, shrugging his shoulders, and with the grin of a
demon, "everyone makes love after his own fashion. I have sworn that you
shall be my wife!"
But Doña Luz could hear no more. Overcome by grief as well as other
feelings, she sank senseless into the arms of the mother of the hunter,
who with Nô Eusebio, bore her out of the larger apartment.
"Enough!" said Loyal Heart, with a stern accent, as he laid his hand
upon his shoulder, "be thankful to God, who allows you to go safe and
sound from our hands."
"In three days, at the same hour, you will see me again, my masters," he
said, disdainfully.
"Between this and then luck may turn," said Belhumeur.
The pirate made no reply, but by a grin and a contemptuous shrug of
the shoulders; and left the cavern with a step as firm and free as if
nothing extraordinary had happened, without even deigning to turn round,
so certain was he of the profound feeling he had caused--of the effect
he had produced.
He had scarcely disappeared, when, from the other outlets of the grotto,
Belhumeur, Black Elk, and Eagle Head rushed upon his track.
Loyal Heart remained thoughtful for an instant, and then went, with a
pale face and a pensive brow to inquire after Doña Luz.
CHAPTER X.
LOVE.
Doña Luz and Loyal Heart were placed with regard to each other, in a
singular position.
Both young, both handsome, they loved without daring to confess it to
themselves, almost without suspecting it.
Both, although their lives had been spent in conditions diametrically
opposite, possessed equal freshness of feeling, equal ingenuousness of
heart.
The childhood of the maiden had passed away, pale and colourless, amidst
the extravagant religious practices of a country where the religion of
Christ is rather a paganism than the pure, noble, and simple faith of
Europe.
She had never felt a beating of the heart. She was as ignorant of love
as she was of sorrow.
She lived thus like the birds of heaven, forgetting the days gone by,
careless of the morrow.
The journey she had undertaken had completely changed the colour of her
existence.
At the sight of the immense horizons which spread out before her in
the prairie, of the majestic rivers which she crossed, of the grand
mountains round whose feet she was often obliged to travel, and whose
hoary heads seemed to touch heaven, her ideas had become enlarged,
a bandage was, so to say, removed from her eyes, and she had learnt
that God had created her for something else than to drag out a useless
existence in a convent.
The appearance of Loyal Heart, under the extraordinary circumstances in
which he had presented himself to her, had won upon her mind, which was
at that time particularly open to all sensations, and ready to retain
all the strong impressions it might receive.
In presence of the exalted nature of the hunter, of that man in wild
costume, but possessing a manly countenance, handsome features and noble
bearing, she had felt agitated without comprehending the reason.
The fact was, that unknown to herself, by the force of the secret
sympathies which exist between all the beings of the great human family,
her heart had met the heart she sought for.
Delicate and frail, she stood in need of this energetic man, with the
fascinating glance, the leonine courage, and an iron will, to support
her through life, and defend her with his omnipotent protection.
Thus had she, therefore, from the first moment, yielded with a feeling
of undefinable happiness, to the inclination which drew her towards
Loyal Heart; and love had installed himself as master in her heart,
before she was aware of it, or had even thought of resisting.
Recent events had awakened with intense force the passion which had been
slumbering at the bottom of her heart. Now that she was near him, that
she heard, at every instant, his praises from the mouth of his mother,
or from those of his companions, she had come to consider her love as
forming part of her existence, she could not comprehend how she could
have lived so long without loving this man, whom it appeared she must
have known from her very birth.
She no longer lived but for him and by him; happy at a look or a smile,
joyful when she saw him, sad when he remained long absent from her.
Loyal Heart had arrived at the same result by a very different route.
Brought up, so to say, in the prairies, face to face with the Divinity,
he was accustomed to adore in the great works he had constantly before
his eyes, the sublime spectacles of nature; the incessant struggles he
had to sustain, whether against Indians or wild beasts, had developed
him, morally and physically, in immense proportions. As, by his muscular
strength and his skill with his weapons, he had overcome all obstacles
that had been opposed to him; so, by the grandeur of his ideas and the
delicacy of his sentiments, he was capable of comprehending all things.
Nothing that was good and nothing that was great seemed to be unknown to
him. As it always happens with superior organisations early placed at
war with adversity, and given up without other defences than themselves
to the terrible chances of life, his mind had developed itself in
gigantic proportions, still remaining in strange unconsciousness of
certain sensations, which were unknown to him, and would always have
remained so, but for a providential chance.
The daily wants of the agitated and precarious life he led, had stifled
within him the germ of the passions; his solitary habits had, unknown to
himself, led him to a taste for a contemplative life.
Knowing no other woman but his mother, for the Indians, by their
manners, inspired him with nothing but disgust, he had reached the age
of six-and-thirty without thinking of love, without knowing what it was,
and, what is more, without ever having heard pronounced that word which
contains so many things in its four letters, and which, in this world,
is the source of so many sublime devotions and so many horrible crimes.
After a long day's hunting through woods and ravines, or after having
been engaged fifteen or sixteen hours in trapping beavers, when, in the
evening, they met in the prairie at their bivouac fire, the conversation
of Loyal Heart and his friend Belhumeur, who was as ignorant as himself
in this respect, could not possibly turn upon anything but the events of
the day.
Weeks, months, years passed away without bringing any change in his
existence, except a vague uneasiness, whose cause was unknown, but
which weighed upon his mind, and for which he could not account. Nature
has her imprescriptible rights, and every man must submit to them, in
whatever condition he may chance to be placed.
Thus, therefore, when accident brought Doña Luz before him, by the same
sentiment of instinctive and irresistible sympathy which acted upon the
young girl, his heart flew towards her.
The hunter, astonished at the sudden interest he felt for a stranger,
whom, according to all appearances, he might never see again, was
almost angry with her on account of that sentiment which was awakening
within him, and gave to his intercourse with her an asperity which was
unnatural to him.
Like all exalted minds, who have been accustomed to see everything bend
before them without resistance, he felt himself irritated at being
subdued by a girl, at yielding to an influence from which he no longer
could extricate himself.
But when, after the fire in the prairie, he quitted the Mexican camp,
notwithstanding the precipitation of his departure, he carried away the
remembrance of the fair stranger with him.
And this remembrance increased with absence.
He always fancied he heard the soft and melodious notes of the young
girl's voice sounding in his ears, however strong the efforts he made
to forget her; in hours of watching or of sleep, she was always there,
smiling upon him, and fixing her enchanting looks upon him.
The struggle was severe. Loyal Heart, notwithstanding the passion that
devoured him, knew what an insuperable distance separated him from
Doña Luz, and how senseless and unrealizable this love was. All the
objections possibly to be made in such cases, he made, in order to prove
he was mad.
Then, when he had convinced himself that an abyss separated him from her
he loved, overcome by the terrible conflict he had maintained against
himself, supported perhaps by that hope which never abandons energetic
men, far from frankly acknowledging his defeat, but yielding to the
passion which was from that time to constitute his sole joy, his sole
happiness, he continued doggedly to struggle against it, despising
himself for a thousand little weaknesses which his love was continually
making him commit.
He shunned, with an obstinacy that ought to have offended the maiden,
all opportunities of meeting her. When by chance they happened to be
together, he became taciturn and sullen, only answering with difficulty
the questions she put to him, and, with that awkwardness peculiar to
unpractised lovers, seizing the first opportunity for leaving her.
The young lady looked after him sadly, sighed quietly but deeply, and
sometimes a liquid pearl flowed silently down her rosy cheeks at seeing
this departure, which she took for indifference, and which was in
reality love.
But during the few days that had passed since the taking of the camp
the young people had progressed without suspecting it, and this was
greatly assisted by the mother of Loyal Heart, who, with that second
sight with which all mothers worthy of the name are endowed, had divined
this passion, and the honourable combats of her son, and had constituted
herself the secret confidante of their love, assisting it unknown to
them, and protecting it with all her power, whilst both lovers were
persuaded that their secret was buried in the depths of their own hearts.
Such was the state of things two days after the proposal made by the
captain to Doña Luz.
Loyal Heart appeared more sad and more preoccupied than usual; he walked
about the grotto with hasty strides, showing signs of the greatest
impatience, and at intervals casting uneasy glances around him.
At length, leaning against one of the projections of the grotto, he let
his head sink on his chest, and remained plunged in profound meditation.
He had stood thus for some time, when a soft voice murmured in his ear--
"What is the matter, my son? Why are your features clouded with such
sadness? Have you received any bad news?"
Loyal Heart raised his head, like a man suddenly awakened from sleep.
His mother and Doña Luz were standing before him, their arms interlaced,
and leaning upon each other.
He cast upon them a melancholy glance, and replied with a stifled sigh,--
"Alas! mother, tomorrow is the last day. I have as yet been able to
imagine nothing that can save Doña Luz, and restore her uncle to her."
The two women started.
"Tomorrow!" Doña Luz murmured; "that is true; it is tomorrow that that
man is to come!"
"What will you do, my son?"
"How can I tell, mother?" he replied impatiently. "Oh! this man is
stronger than I am. He has defeated all my plans. Up to the present
moment we have not possibly been able to discover his retreat. All our
researches have proved useless."
"Loyal Heart," the young lady said, softly, "will you then abandon me to
the mercy of this bandit? Why, then, did you save me?"
"Oh!" the young man cried, "that reproach kills me."
"I am not reproaching you, Loyal Heart," she said warmly; "but I am very
unhappy. If I remain, I cause the death of the only relative I have in
the world; if I depart, I am dishonoured!"
"Oh, to be able to do nothing!" he cried, with great excitement. "To see
you weep, to know that you are unhappy, and to be able to do nothing!
Oh!" he added, "to spare you the least anxiety I would sacrifice my life
with joy. God alone knows what I suffer from this want of power."
"Hope, my son, hope!" the old lady said, with an encouraging accent.
"God is good. He will not abandon you."
"Hope! how can you tell me to do so, mother? During the last two days my
friends and I have attempted things that would appear impossible--and
yet without result. Hope! and in a few hours this miserable wretch will
come to claim the prey he covets! Better to die than see such a crime
consummated."
Doña Luz cast upon him a glance of a peculiar expression, a melancholy
smile for a moment passed over her lips, and then she gently laid her
delicate little hand upon his shoulder,--
"Loyal Heart," she said, with her melodious, clear voice, "do you love
me?"
The young man started; a tremor pervaded every limb.
"Why that question?" he said, in a deeply agitated tone.
"Answer me," she replied, "without hesitation, as I put the question to
you; the hour is a solemn one; I have a favour to ask of you."
"Oh! name it, señora; you know I can refuse you nothing!"
"Answer me, then," she said, trembling with emotion; "do you love me?"
"If it be love to desire to sacrifice my life for you--if it be love
to suffer martyrdom at witnessing the flowing of a tear which I would
purchase with my whole blood--if it be love to have the courage to see
you accomplish the sacrifice that will be required from you tomorrow in
order to save your uncle--oh! yes, señora, I love you with all my soul!
Therefore, speak without fear: whatever you ask of me I will perform
with joy."
"That is well, my dear friend," she said, "I depend upon your word;
tomorrow I will remind you of it when that man presents himself; but, in
the first place, my uncle must be saved, if it were to cost me my life.
Alas! he has been a father to me: he loves me as his daughter. It was on
my account that he fell into the hands of the bandits. Oh! swear to me,
Loyal Heart, that you will deliver him," she added, with an expression
of anguish impossible to be described.
Loyal Heart was about to reply when Belhumeur and Black Elk entered the
grotto.
"At last!" he cried, springing towards them.
The three men talked for a few minutes together in a low voice: then the
hunter returned hastily towards the two women.
His face was glowing with animation.
"You were right, my dear mother," he exclaimed, in a cheerful tone, "God
is good: He will not abandon those who place their confidence in Him.
Now it is my turn to say, Hope, Doña Luz, I will soon restore your uncle
to you."
"Oh!" she cried, joyfully, "can it be possible?"
"Hope! I repeat! Adieu, mother! Implore God to second me; I am about,
more than ever, to stand in need of His help!"
Without saying more the young man rushed out of the grotto, followed by
the greater part of his companions.
"What did he mean by what he said?" Doña Luz asked, anxiously.
"Come with me, my daughter," the old lady replied, sorrowfully; "come,
let us pray for him."
She drew her softly towards the retired part of the grotto which they
inhabited.
There only remained about half a score men charged with the defence of
the two women.
CHAPTER XI.
THE PRISONERS.
When the redskins and the hunters had recaptured the camp of the
Mexicans, the pirates, according to the orders of their leader, had
spread about in all directions, in order the more easily to escape the
researches of their enemies.
The captain and the four men who carried off the general and his Negro,
both bound and gagged, had descended the declivity of the rocks, at the
risk of being dashed to pieces a thousand times by falling down the
precipices which gaped at their feet.
On arriving at a certain distance, reassured by the silence which
reigned around them, and still more by the extraordinary difficulties
they had surmounted in reaching the place where they found themselves,
they stopped to take breath.
A profound darkness enveloped them; over their heads, at an immense
height, they perceived, twinkling like little stars, the torches borne
by the hunters who pursued them, but who took care not to venture in the
dangerous path they had followed.
"This is lucky," said the captain; "now, my boys, let us rest for a
few minutes, we have nothing at the present time to fear: place your
prisoners here, and go, two of you, and reconnoitre."
His orders were executed; a few minutes later the two bandits returned,
announcing that they had discovered an excavation, which, might
temporarily offer them shelter and safety.
"The devil!" cried the captain, "let us go to it."
And setting the example he started off in the direction pointed out by
the scouts.
They soon arrived at a hollow nook which appeared tolerably spacious,
and which was situated a few fathoms lower down than the place they had
stopped at.
When they were concealed in this hiding place, the captain's first care
was to close the entrance hermetically, which was not difficult, for
that entrance was very narrow, the bandits having been obliged to stoop
to penetrate into it.
"There," said the captain, "now we are snug; in this fashion we need not
be afraid of impertinent visitors."
Drawing a steel from his pocket, he lit a torch of candlewood, with
which, with that foresight that never abandons persons of his stamp even
in the most critical circumstances, he had taken care to provide himself.
As soon as they could distinguish objects, the bandits uttered a cry of
joy. What in the darkness they had taken for a simple excavation proved
to be one of those natural grottos of which so many are found in these
countries.
"Eh! eh!" said the captain, laughing, "let us see what sort of quarters
we have got into; remain here, my men, and keep strict watch over your
prisoners; I will go and reconnoitre our new domain."
After lighting a second torch, he explored the grotto.
It dipped deep under the mountain by a gentle descent; the walls
were everywhere lofty, and sometimes they were widened into large
compartments.
The cavern must have received external air by imperceptible fissures,
for the light burned freely and the captain breathed without difficulty.
The farther the pirate advanced, the more perceptible the air became,
which led him to conclude he was approaching an entrance of some kind.
He had been walking nearly twenty minutes, when a puff of wind came
sharply in his nice and made the flame of his torch flicker.
"Hum!" he muttered, "here is a place of exit--let us be prudent and put
out our lights, we know not whom we may meet with outside."
He crushed the light of his torch beneath his feet, and remained a few
instants motionless, to allow his eyes to become accustomed to the
darkness.
He was a prudent man, and thoroughly acquainted with his trade of a
bandit, was this captain. If the plan he had formed for the attack
of the camp had failed, it had required for that a concurrence of
fortuitous circumstances impossible to have been foreseen by anybody.
Therefore, after the first moment of ill-humour caused by the check he
had received, he had bravely taken his part; resolving, _in petto_, to
take his revenge as soon as an opportunity should present itself.
Besides, it seemed as if Fortune was willing to smile on him afresh, by
offering him, just at the moment when he had the greatest want of it, a
refuge not likely to be discovered.
It was therefore with an almost unspeakable joy and hope that he waited
till his eyes should be accustomed to the darkness, to permit him to
distinguish objects and know if he were really going to find a place of
exit, which would render him master of an almost impregnable position.
His expectations were not disappointed.
As soon as the dazzling effect of the blaze of the torch was got rid
of, he perceived, at a considerable distance before him, a feeble light.
He walked resolutely forward, and at the end of a few minutes came to
the so much desired outlet.
Decidedly fortune was once more propitious to him!
The outlet of the grotto opened upon the banks of a little river, the
water of which came murmuring close to the mouth of the cavern, so that
the bandits might, by swimming or constructing a raft, go in and out
without leaving any traces, and thus defeat all researches.
The captain was too well acquainted with the prairies of the West, in
which he had for nearly ten years exercised his honourable and lucrative
profession, not to be able to know at once where he was on looking
around him.
He perceived that this river flowed at some distance from the camp of
the Mexicans, from which its numberless meanderings tended still more to
remove it. He breathed a sigh of satisfaction when he had well examined
the environs, no longer fearing discovery and thenceforward at ease
regarding his position. He lit his torch again, and retraced his steps.
His companions, with the exception of one who watched the prisoners,
were fast asleep.
The captain aroused them.
"Come, be alive! be alive!" he said; "this is not the time for sleeping;
we have something else to do."
The bandits arose with a very ill grace, rubbing their eyes, and yawning
enough to dislocate their jaws.
The captain made them, in the first place, securely close up the hole
by which they had entered, then he ordered them to follow him with the
prisoners, whose legs they unbound, in order that they might walk.
They stopped in one of the numerous halls, if we may so term them, which
the captain had discovered on his route; one man was appointed to guard
the prisoners, who were left in this place, and the captain, with the
three other bandits continued their way to the outlet.
"You see," he said to them, pointing to the outlet, "that sometimes
misfortune has its good, since chance has allowed us to discover a
place of refuge where no one will come to seek us. You, Frank, set off
directly for the rendez-vous I have appointed with your comrades, and
bring them hither, as well as all the rest of our men who did not form
part of the expedition. As for you, Antonio, you must procure us some
provisions. Go, both of you. It is needless to tell you that I shall
await your return with impatience."
The two bandits plunged into the river without reply, and disappeared.
"As to you, Gonzalez," he said, "employ yourself in gathering wood
together for firing, and dry leaves for bedding; come, to work! to work!"
An hour later, a clear fire sparkled in the grotto, and upon soft beds
of dry leaves the bandits slept soundly.
At sunrise the rest of the troop arrived.
There were still thirty of them!
The worthy leader felt his heart dilate with joy at the sight of the
rich collection of scoundrels he had still at his disposal. With them
he did not despair of re-establishing his affairs, and of soon taking a
signal revenge.
After an abundant breakfast, composed of venison, copiously washed
down with mezcal, the captain at length turned his attention to his
prisoners. He repaired to the hall which served for their dungeon.
Since he had fallen into the hands of the bandits, the general had
remained silent, apparently insensible to the ill-treatment to which he
had been exposed.
The wounds he had received, being neglected, had festered, and gave him
terrible pain; but he did not utter a complaint.
A deep grief took possession of his mind from the moment of his capture;
he saw all his hopes overthrown of being able to resume the execution of
the project that had brought him into the prairies.
All his companions were dead, and he knew not what fate awaited himself.
The only thing that brought a slight consolation to his pains was the
certainty that his niece had succeeded in escaping.
But what was to become of her in this desert, where nothing was to be
met with but wild beasts, and still more ferocious Indians? How could a
young girl, accustomed to all the comforts of life, support the hazards
of this existence of privations?
This idea redoubled his sufferings.
The captain was terrified at the state in which he found him.
"Come, general," he said, "courage! What the devil! luck often changes;
I know something of that! _Caray!_ never despair; nobody can tell what
tomorrow will bring about. Give me your parole not to endeavour to
escape, and I will immediately restore you the freedom of your limbs."
"I cannot give you that parole," the general replied with firmness;
"I should take a false oath if I did. On the contrary, I swear to
endeavour to fly by all possible means."
"Bravo! well answered!" said the pirate, laughing; "in your place,
I should have replied just the same; only, at the present moment, I
believe, with the best will in the world, it would be impossible for you
to go a step. In spite, therefore, of all you have said to me, I will
restore both you and your servant to liberty, and you may make what use
you like of it, but it is freedom of your limbs, please to recollect,
that is all."
With a stroke of his machete he cut the cords which bound the arms of
the general, and then performed the same service for the Negro, Jupiter.
The latter, as soon as he was free in his movements, began jumping and
laughing, exhibiting two rows of formidable teeth of dazzling whiteness.
"Come, be prudent, blacky," said the pirate; "be quiet here, if you do
not want to have a bullet through your head."
"I will not go without my master," Jupiter replied, rolling his great
wild-looking eyes.
"That is right!" the pirate remarked with a sneer; "that is agreed upon;
such devotedness does you honour, blacky."
Turning next to the general, the captain bathed his wounds with cold
water, and dressed them carefully; then, after placing provisions before
the prisoners, to which the Negro alone did honour, the pirate retired.
Towards the middle of the day, the captain called together the principal
men of his band.
"Caballeros," he said, "we cannot deny that we have lost the first game;
the prisoners we have made are far from reimbursing our expenses; we
cannot remain quiet under the effects of a check, which dishonours us,
and renders us ridiculous. I am going to play a second game; this time
if I do not win I shall be unlucky indeed. During my absence, watch well
over the prisoners. Pay attention to the last orders I give you: if
tomorrow, at midnight, I have not returned, safe and sound among you, at
a quarter past midnight, I say, you will shoot the two prisoners without
remission; you perfectly understand what I say, do you not?--without
remission."
"Be at your ease, captain," Frank replied, in the name of his
companions; "you may go as soon as you please; your orders shall be
executed."
"I know they will; but be sure not to shoot them a minute too soon, or a
minute too late."
"Exactly at the time named."
"That is understood. Adieu, then; do not be too impatient for my return."
Upon this the captain left the grotto, to throw himself in the way of
Loyal Heart.
We have seen what the bandit wanted with the trapper.
CHAPTER XII.
A RUSE DE GUERRE.
After his strange proposal to the hunters, the leader of the pirates
retook, at his best speed, the road to his den.
But he was too much accustomed to the life of the prairies not to
suspect that several of his enemies would follow his track at a
distance. Therefore, he had put in practice, to mislead them, all
the tricks which his inventive mind could furnish with him, making
_détours_ without number, retracing incessantly his steps, or, as it is
vulgarly said, going back ten yards to advance one.
These numerous precautions had excessively retarded his journey.
When he arrived on the banks of the river whose waters bathed the
entrance to the cavern, he cast a last look around him, to make certain
that no busy eye was watching his movements.
Everything was calm, nothing suspicious appeared, and he was about to
launch into the stream the raft concealed beneath the leaves, when a
slight noise in the bushes attracted his attention.
The pirate started; promptly drawing a pistol from his belt, he cocked
it, and advanced boldly towards the spot whence this alarming noise
proceeded.
A man bent towards the ground, was busy digging up herbs and plants with
a small spade.
The pirate smiled, and replaced his pistol in his belt.
He had recognized the doctor, who was as much absorbed in his favourite
passion as usual; so much so, indeed, that he had not perceived him.
After surveying him for an instant with disdain, the pirate was turning
his back upon him, when an idea occurred to him, which made him, on the
contrary,--advance towards the _savant_, upon whose shoulder he somewhat
roughly laid his hand.
At this rude salutation, the poor doctor drew himself up in a fright,
letting fall both plants and spade.
"Holla! my good fellow," said the captain, in a jeering tone, "what
madness possesses you to be herbalizing thus at all hours of the day and
night?"
"How!" the doctor replied, "what do you mean by that?"
"Zounds! it's plain enough! Don't you know it is not far from midnight?"
"That is true," the _savant_ remarked ingenuously; "but there is such a
fine moon."
"Which you, I suppose, have taken for the sun," said the pirate, with a
loud laugh; "but," he added, becoming all at once serious, "that is of
no consequence now; although half a madman, I have been told that you
are a pretty good doctor."
"I have passed my examinations," the doctor replied, offended by the
epithet applied to him.
"Very well! you are just the man I want, then."
The _savant_ bowed with a very ill grace; it was evident he was not much
flattered by the attention.
"What do you require of me?" he asked; "are you ill?"
"Not I, thank God! but one of your friends, who is at this moment my
prisoner, is; so please to follow me."
"But----" the doctor would fain have objected.
"I admit of no excuses; follow me, or I will blow your brains out.
Besides, don't be afraid, you run no risk; my men will pay you all the
respect science is entitled to."
As resistance was impossible, the worthy man did as he was bidden with a
good grace--with so good a grace, even, that for a second he allowed a
smile to stray across his lips, which would have aroused the suspicions
of the pirate if he had perceived it.
The captain commanded the _savant_ to walk on before him, and both thus
reached the river.
At the instant they quitted the place where this conversation, had taken
place, the branches of a bush parted slowly, and a head, shaved with
the exception of a long tuft of hair at the top, on which was stuck
an eagle's feather, appeared, then a body, and then an entire man, who
bounded like a jaguar in pursuit of them.
This man was Eagle Head.
He was a silent spectator of the embarkation of the two whites, saw them
enter the grotto, and then, in his turn, disappeared in the shade of the
woods, after muttering to himself in a low voice the word--
"_Och!_" (good) the highest expression of joy in the language of the
Comanches.
The doctor had plainly only served as a bait to attract the pirate, and
cause him to fall into the snare laid by the Indian chief.
Now, had the worthy _savant_ any secret intelligence with Eagle Head?
That is what we shall soon know.
On the morrow, at daybreak, the pirate ordered a close battue to be made
in the environs of the grotto; but no track existed.
The captain rubbed his hands with joy; his expedition had doubly
succeeded, since he had managed to return to his cavern without being
followed.
Certain of having nothing to dread, he was unwilling to keep about him
so many men in a state of inactivity; placing, therefore, his troop
provisionally under the command of Frank, a veteran bandit, in whom he
had perfect confidence, he only retained ten chosen men with him, and
sent away the rest.
Although the affair he was now engaged in was interesting, and his
success appeared certain, he was not, on that account, willing to
neglect his other occupations, and maintain a score of bandits in
idleness, who might, at any moment, from merely having nothing else to
do, play him an ugly turn.
It is evident that the captain was not only a prudent man, but was
thoroughly acquainted with his honourable associates.
When the pirates had left the grotto, the captain made a sign to the
doctor to follow him, and conducted him to the general.
After having introduced them to each other with that ironical politeness
in which he was such a master, the bandit retired, leaving them together.
Only before he departed, the captain drew a pistol from his belt, and
clapping it to the breast of the _savant_--
"Although you may be half a madman," he said, "as you may, nevertheless,
have some desire to betray me, observe this well, my dear sir; at the
least equivocal proceeding that I see you attempt, I will blow your
brains out; you are warned, so now act as you think proper."
And replacing his pistol in his belt, he retired with one of his
eloquent sneers on his lips.
The doctor listened to this admonition with a very demure countenance,
but with a sly smile, which, in spite of himself, glided over his lips,
but which, fortunately, was not perceived by the captain.
The general and his Negro, Jupiter, were confined in a compartment of
the grotto at some distance from the outlet.
They were alone, for the captain had deemed it useless to keep guards
constantly with them.
Both seated upon a heap of leaves, with heads cast down and crossed
arms, they were reflecting seriously, if not profoundly.
At sight of the _savant_, the dismal countenance of the general was
lighted up by a fugitive smile of hope.
"Ah, doctor, is that you?" he said, holding out to him a hand which the
other pressed warmly hut silently, "have I reason to rejoice or to be
still sad at your presence?"
"Are we alone?" the doctor asked, without answering the general's
question.
"I believe so," he replied, in a tone of surprise; "at all events, it is
easy to satisfy yourself."
The doctor groped all round the place, carefully examined every corner;
he then went back to the prisoners.
"We can talk," he said.
The _savant_ was habitually so absorbed by his scientific calculations,
and was naturally so absent, that the prisoners had but little
confidence in him.
"And my niece?" the general asked, anxiously.
"Be at ease on her account; she is in safety with a hunter named Loyal
Heart, who has a great respect for her."
The general breathed a sigh of relief; this good news had restored him
all his courage.
"Oh!" he said, "of what consequence is my being a prisoner? Now I know
my niece is safe, I can suffer anything."
"No, no," said the doctor, warmly, "on the contrary, you must escape
from this place tomorrow, by some means."
"Why?"
"Answer me in the first place."
"I ask no better than to do so."
"Your wounds appear slight; are they progressing towards cure?"
"I think so."
"Do you feel yourself able to walk?
"Oh, yes!"
"But let us understand each other. I mean, are you able to walk a
distance?"
"I believe so, if it be absolutely necessary."
"Eh! eh!" said the Negro, who, up to this moment had remained silent,
"am I not able to carry my master when he can walk no longer?"
The general pressed his hand.
"That's true, so far," said the doctor; "all is well, only you must
escape."
"I should be most glad to do so, but how?"
"Ah! that," said the _savant_, scratching his head, "is what I do not
know, for my part! But be at ease, I will find some means; at present, I
don't know what."
Steps were heard approaching, and the captain appeared.
"Well!" he asked, "how are your patients going on?"
"Not too well!" the doctor replied.
"Bah! bah!" the pirate resumed; "all that will come round; besides,
the general will soon be free, then he can get well at his ease. Now,
doctor, come along with me; I hope I have left you and your friend long
enough together to have said all you wish."
The doctor followed him without reply, after having made the general a
parting sign to recommend prudence.
The day passed away without further incident.
The prisoners looked for the night with impatience; in spite of
themselves, a confidence in the doctor had gained upon them--they hoped.
Towards evening the worthy _savant_ reappeared. He walked with a
deliberate step, his countenance was cheerful, he held a torch in his
hand.
"What is there fresh, doctor?" the general asked; "you appear to be
quite gay."
"In fact, general, I am so," he replied with a smile, "because I have
found the means of securing your escape--not forgetting my own."
"And those means?"
"Are already half executed," he said, with a little dry smile, which was
peculiar to him when he was satisfied.
"What do you mean by that?"
"By Galen! something very simple, but which you never would guess: all
our bandits are asleep, we are masters of the grotto."
"That may be possible; but if they should wake?"
"Don't trouble yourself about that; they will wake, of that there is no
doubt, but not within six hours at least."
"How the devil can you tell that?"
"Because I took upon myself to send them to sleep; that is to say, at
their supper I served them with a decoction of opium, which brought them
down like lumps of lead, and they have all been snoring ever since like
so many forge bellows."
"Oh, that is capital!" said the general.
"Is it not?" the doctor observed, modestly. "By Galen, I was determined
to repair the mischief I had done you by my negligence! I am not a
soldier, I am but a poor physician; I have made use of my proper
weapons; you see that in certain cases they are as good as others."
"They are a hundred times better! Doctor, you are a noble fellow!"
"Well, come, let us lose no time."
"That is true, let us be gone; but the captain, what have you done with
him?"
"Oh, as to him, the devil only knows where he is. He left us after
dinner without saying anything to anybody; but I have a shrewd suspicion
I know where he is gone, and am much mistaken if we do not see him
presently."
"All, then, is for the best; lead on."
The three men set off at once. In spite of the means employed by the
doctor, the general and the Negro were not quite at ease.
They arrived at the compartment which now served as a dormitory for the
bandits; they were lying about asleep in all directions.
The fugitives passed safely through them.
When they arrived at the entrance of the grotto, at the moment they were
about to unfasten the raft to cross the river, they saw, by the pale
rays of the moon, another raft, manned by fifteen men, who steadily
directed their course towards them.
Their retreat was cut off.
How could they possibly resist such a number of adversaries?
"What a fatality!" the general murmured, despondingly.
"Oh!" said the doctor, piteously, "a plan of escape that cost me so much
trouble to elaborate!"
The fugitives threw themselves into a cavity of the rocks, to avoid
being seen, and there waited the landing of the newcomers, whose
manoeuvres appeared more and more suspicious.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE LAW OF THE PRAIRIES.
A considerable space of ground, situated in front of the grotto
inhabited by Loyal Heart, had been cleared, the trees cut down, and from
a hundred and fifty to two hundred huts erected.
The whole tribe of the Comanches was encamped on this spot.
Among trappers, hunters, and redskin warriors there existed the best
possible understanding.
In the centre of this temporary village, where the huts of buffalo hides
painted of different colours were arranged with a degree of symmetry,
one much larger than the others, surmounted by scalps fixed to long
poles, and in which a large fire was continually kept up, served as the
council lodge.
The greatest bustle prevailed in the village.
The Indian warriors were armed and in their war paint, as if preparing
to march to battle.
The hunters had dressed themselves in their best costumes, and cleaned
their arms with the greatest care, as if expecting soon to make use of
them.
The horses completely caparisoned, stood hobbled, and held by half a
score warriors, ready to be mounted.
Hunters and redskins were coming and going in a busy, preoccupied manner.
A rare and almost unknown thing among Indians, sentinels were placed at
regular distances to signal the approach of a stranger, whoever he might
be.
In short, everything denoted that one of the ceremonies peculiar to the
prairies was about to take place. But, strange to say, Loyal Heart,
Eagle Head, and Black Elk were absent.
Belhumeur alone watched over the preparations that were being made,
talking, the while, to the old Comanche chief _Eshis_, or the Sun.
But their countenances were stern, their brows thoughtful, they appeared
a prey to an overpowering preoccupation.
It was the day fixed upon by the captain of the pirates for Doña Luz to
be delivered up to him.
Would the captain venture to come? or was his proposition anything more
than a rodomontade?
Those who knew the pirate, and their number was great--almost all having
suffered by his depredations--inclined to the affirmative.
This man was endowed, and it was the only quality they acknowledged in
him, with a ferocious courage and an iron will.
If once he had affirmed he would do a thing, he did it, without regard
to anybody or any danger.
And then, what had he to dread in coming a second time amongst his
enemies? Did he not hold the general in his power? the general, whose
life answered for his own; all knew that he would not hesitate to
sacrifice him to his safety.
It was about eight o'clock in the morning, a brilliant sun shed its
dazzling rays in profusion upon the picture we have endeavoured to
describe.
Doña Luz left the grotto, leaning upon the arm of the mother of Loyal
Heart, and followed by Nô Eusebio.
The two women were sad and pale, their faces looked worn, and their red
eyes showed they had been weeping.
As soon as Belhumeur perceived them, he advanced towards them, bowing
respectfully.
"Has not my son returned yet?" the old lady asked, anxiously.
"Not yet," the hunter replied, "but keep up your spirits, señora, it
will not be long before he is here."
"Good God! I do not know why, but it seems as if he must be detained at
a distance from us by some untoward event."
"No, señora, I should know if he were so. When I left him last night,
for the purpose of tranquillizing you, and executing the orders he
gave me, he was in an excellent situation; therefore, believe me, be
reassured, and, above all, have confidence."
"Alas!" the poor woman murmured, "I have lived for twenty years in
continual agony, every night dreading not to see my son on the morrow;
my God! will you not then have pity on me!"
"Have comfort, dear señora," said Doña Luz, affectionately, and with
a gentle kiss: "Oh! I know that if Loyal Heart at this moment be in
danger, it is to save my poor uncle; my God!" she added, fervently,
"grant that he may succeed!"
"All will soon be cleared up, ladies, be assured by me, and you know I
would not deceive you."
"Yes," said the old lady, "you are good, you love my son, and you would
not be here if he had anything to dread."
"You judge me rightly, señora, and I thank you for it. I cannot, at the
present moment, tell you anything, but I implore you to have a little
patience; let it suffice for you to know that he is labouring to render
the señorita happy."
"Oh! yes," said the mother, "always good, always devoted!"
"And therefore was he named Loyal Heart," the maiden murmured, with a
blush.
"And never was name better merited," the hunter exclaimed proudly. "A
man must have lived a long time with him, and know him as well as I know
him, in order to appreciate him properly."
"Thanks, in my turn, for all you say of my son, Belhumeur," the old lady
replied, pressing the callous hand of the hunter.
"I speak nothing but the truth, señora; I am only just, that is all. Oh!
things would go on well in the prairies if all hunters were like him."
"Good heavens! time passes, will he never come?" she murmured, looking
around with feverish impatience.
"Very soon, señora."
"I wish to be the first to see him and salute him on his arrival!"
"Unfortunately that is impossible."
"Why so?"
"Your son charged me to beg you, as well as Señora Luz, to retire into
the grotto; he is anxious that you should not be present at the scene
that is about to take place here."
"But," said Doña Luz, anxiously, "how shall I know if my uncle be saved
or not?"
"Be assured, señorita, that you shall not remain in uncertainty long.
But I beg you not to remain here. Go in, go in."
"Perhaps it will be best to do so," the old lady observed. "Let us be
obedient, darling," she added, smiling on the girl; "let us go in,
since my son requires it."
Doña Luz followed her without resistance, but casting furtive looks
behind her, to try if she could catch a glimpse of him she loved.
"How happy are those who have mothers!" murmured Belhumeur, stifling a
sigh, and looking after the two women, who disappeared in the shade of
the grotto.
All at once the Indian sentinels uttered a cry, which was immediately
repeated by a man placed in front of the council lodge.
At this signal the Comanche chiefs arose and left the hut in which they
were assembled.
The hunters and Indian warriors seized their arms, ranged themselves on
either side of the grotto, and waited.
A cloud of dust rolled towards the camp with great rapidity, but
was soon dispersed, and revealed a troop of horsemen riding at full
speed. These horsemen, for the most part, wore the costume of Mexican
gambusinos.
At their head, upon a magnificent horse, black as night, came a man whom
all immediately recognized.
This was Captain Waktehno, who came audaciously at the head of his
troop, to claim the fulfilment of the odious bargain he had imposed
three days before.
Generally, in the prairies, when two troops meet, or when warriors
or hunters visit a village, it is the custom to execute a sort of
_fantasia_, by rushing full speed towards each other, yelling and firing
off guns.
On this occasion, however, nothing of the kind took place.
The Comanches and the hunters remained motionless and silent, awaiting
the arrival of the pirates.
This cold, stern reception did not astonish the captain; though his
eyebrows were a little contracted, he feigned not to perceive it, and
entered the village intrepidly at the head of his band.
When he arrived in front of the chiefs drawn up before the council
lodge, the twenty horsemen stopped suddenly, as if they had been changed
into statues of bronze.
This bold manoeuvre was executed with such dexterity that the hunters,
good judges of horsemanship, with difficulty repressed a cry of
admiration.
Scarcely had the pirates halted, ere the ranks of the warriors placed on
the right and left of the lodge deployed like a fan, and closed behind
them.
The twenty pirates found themselves by this movement, which was executed
with incredible quickness, enclosed within a circle formed of more than
five hundred men, well armed and equally well mounted.
The captain felt a slight tremor of uneasiness at the sight of this
manoeuvre, and he almost repented having come. But surmounting this
involuntary emotion, he smiled disdainfully; he believed he was certain
he had nothing to fear.
He bowed slightly to the chiefs ranged before him, and addressed
Belhumeur in a firm voice,--
"Where is the girl?" he demanded.
"I do not know what you mean," the hunter replied, in a bantering tone;
"I do not believe that there is any young lady here upon whom you have
any claim whatever."
"What does this mean? and what is going on here?" the captain muttered,
casting around a look of defiance. "Has Loyal Heart forgotten the visit
I paid him three days ago?"
"Loyal Heart never forgets anything," said Belhumeur, in a firm tone;
"but the question is not of him now. How can you have the audacity to
present yourself among us at the head of a set of brigands?"
"Well," said the captain jeeringly, "I see you want to answer me by an
evasion. As to the menace contained in the latter part of your sentence,
it is worth very little notice."
"You are wrong; for since you have committed the imprudence of throwing
yourself into our hands, we shall not be simple enough, I warn you, to
allow you to escape."
"Oh, oh!" said the pirate; "what game are we playing now?"
"You will soon learn."
"I can wait," the pirate replied, casting around a provoking glance.
"In these deserts, where all human laws are silent," the hunter replied,
in a loud clear voice, "the law of God ought to reign in full vigour.
This law says, 'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.'"
"What follows?" said the pirate, in a dry tone.
"During ten years," Belhumeur continued impassively, "at the head of
a troop of bandits, without faith and without law, you have been the
terror of the prairies, pillaging and assassinating white men and red
men; for you are of no country, plunder and rapine being your only rule;
trappers, hunters, gambusinos, or Indians, you have respected no one,
if murder could procure you a piece of gold. Not many days ago you took
by assault the camp of peaceful Mexican travellers, and massacred them
without pity. This career of crime must have an end, and that end has
now come. We have Indians and hunters assembled here to try you, and
apply to you the implacable law of the prairies."
"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth," the assembled Indians and
hunters cried, brandishing their arms.
"You deceive yourselves greatly, my masters," the pirate answered, with
assurance, "If you believe I shall hold my throat out peaceably to the
knife, like a calf that is being led to the shambles. I suspected what
would happen, and that is why I am so well accompanied. I have with me
twenty resolute men, who well know how to defend themselves. You have
not got us yet."
"Look around you, and see what is left for you to do."
The pirate cast a look behind him, and saw five hundred guns levelled at
his band.
A shudder passed through his limbs, a mortal pallor covered his face,
the pirate understood that he was confronted by a terrible danger;
but after a second of reflection, he recovered all his coolness, and
addressing the hunter, he replied in a jeering voice:--
"What is the use of all these menaces, which do not frighten me? You
know very well that I am screened from all your violence. You have told
me that I attacked some Mexican travellers a few days ago, but you are
not ignorant that the most important of those travellers has fallen into
my power. Dare but to touch a single hair of my head, and the general,
the uncle of the girl you would in vain ravish from my power, will
immediately pay with his life for the insult you offer me. Believe me,
then, my masters, you had better cease endeavouring to terrify me; give
up to me with a good grace her whom I come to demand, or I swear to you,
by God, that within an hour the general will be a dead man."
All at once a man broke through the crowd, and placing himself in front
of the pirate, said--
"You are mistaken, the general is free!"
That man was Loyal Heart.
A hum of joy resounded from the ranks of the hunters and Indians, whilst
a shudder of terror agitated the pirates.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE CHASTISEMENT.
The general and his two companions had not remained long in a state of
uncertainty.
The raft, after several attempts, came to shore at last, and fifteen
men, armed with guns advanced, and rushed into the grotto, uttering loud
cries.
The fugitives ran towards them with joy; for they recognized at the head
of them Loyal Heart, Eagle Head, and Black Elk.
This is what had happened.
As soon as the doctor had entered the grotto with the captain, Eagle
Head, certain of having discovered the retreat of the pirates, had
rejoined his friends, to whom he imparted the success of his stratagem,
Belhumeur had been despatched to Loyal Heart, who had hastened to come.
All, in concert, had resolved to attack the bandits in their cavern,
whilst other detachments of hunters and redskin warriors, spread about
the prairies, and concealed among the rocks should watch the approaches
to the grottos and prevent the escape of the pirates.
We have seen the result of this expedition.
After having devoted the first moment entirely to joy, and the pleasure
of having succeeded without a blow being struck, the general informed
his liberators that half a score bandits were sleeping in the grotto,
under the influence of the worthy doctor's opium.
The pirates were strongly bound and carried away; then, after calling in
the various detachments, the whole band again bent their way to the camp.
Great had been the surprise of the captain at the exclamation of Loyal
Heart; but that surprise was changed into terror, when he saw the
general, whom he thought so safely guarded by his men, standing before
him.
He saw at once that all his measures were defeated, and his tricks
circumvented, and that this time he was lost without resource.
The blood mounted to his throat, his eyes darted lightning, and turning
towards Loyal Heart, he said, in a hoarse loud voice--
"Well played! but all is not yet ended between us. By God's help I shall
have my revenge!"
He made a gesture as if to put his horse in motion; but Loyal Heart held
it resolutely by the bridle.
"We have not done yet," he remarked.
The pirate looked at him for an instant with eyes injected with blood,
and then said in a voice broken by passion, whilst urging on his horse
to oblige the hunter to quit his hold.
"What more do you want with me?"
Loyal Heart, thanks to a wrist of iron, still held the horse, which
plunged furiously.
"You have been brought to trial," he replied, "and the law of the
prairies is about to be applied to you."
The pirate uttered a terrible, sneering, maniac laugh, and tore his
pistols from his belt:--
"Woe be to him who touches me!" he cried, with rage, "give me way!"
"No," the impassive hunter replied, "you are fairly taken, my master;
this time you shall not escape me."
"Die then!" cried the pirate, aiming one of his pistols at Loyal Heart.
But, quick as thought, Belhumeur, who had watched his movements closely,
threw himself before his friend with a swiftness increased tenfold by
the seriousness of the situation.
The shot was fired. The ball struck the Canadian, who fell bathed in his
blood.
"One!" cried the pirate, with a ferocious laugh.
"_Two_!" screamed Eagle Head, and with the bound of a panther, he leaped
upon the pirate's horse behind him.
Before the captain could make a movement to defend himself, the Indian
seized him with his left hand, by the long hair, of which he formed a
tuft, and pulled him backwards violently, with his head downwards.
"Curses on you!" cried the pirate, in vain endeavouring to free himself
from his enemy.
And then took place a scene which chilled the spectators with horror.
The horse, which Loyal Heart had left his hold of, when at liberty,
furious with being urged on by its master and checked by Loyal Heart,
and with the double weight imposed upon it, sprang forward, mad with
rage, breaking and overturning in its course every object that opposed
its passage. But it still carried, clinging to its sides, the two men
struggling to kill each other, and who on the back of the terrified
animal writhed about like serpents.
Eagle Head had, as we have said, pulled back the head of the pirate;
he placed his knee against his loins, uttered his hideous war cry, and
flourished with a terrible gesture his knife around the brow of his
enemy.
"Kill me, then, vile wretch!" the pirate cried, and with a rapid effort
he raised his left hand, still armed with a pistol, but the bullet was
lost in space.
The Comanche chief fixed his eyes upon the captain's face.
"Thou art a coward!" he said, with disgust, "and an old woman, who is
afraid of death!"
At the same time he pushed the bandit forcibly with his knee, and
plunged the knife into his skull.
The captain uttered a piercing cry, which arose into the air, mingled
with the howl of triumph of the chief.
The horse stumbled over a root; the two enemies rolled upon the ground.
Only one rose up.
It was the Comanche chief, who brandished the bleeding scalp of the
pirate.
But the latter was not dead. Almost mad with pain and fury, and blinded
with the blood which trickled into his eyes, he arose and rushed upon
his adversary, who had no expectation of such an attack.
Then, with limbs entwined, each endeavoured, by strength and artifice,
to throw his antagonist, and plunge into his body the knife with which
he was armed.
Several hunters sprang forward to separate them, but when they reached
them all was over.
The captain lay upon the ground with the knife of Eagle Head buried to
the hilt in his heart.
The pirates, held in awe by the white hunters and the Indian warriors
who surrounded them, did not attempt a resistance, which they knew would
be useless.
When he saw his captain fall, Frank, in the name of his companions,
proclaimed that they surrendered. At a signal from Loyal Heart they laid
down their arms and were bound.
Belhumeur, the brave Canadian, whose devotedness had saved the life
of his friend, had received a serious wound, but, happily, it was not
mortal. He had been instantly lifted up and carried into the grotto,
where the mother of the hunter paid him every attention.
Eagle Head approached Loyal Heart, who stood pensive and silent, leaning
against a tree.
"The chiefs are assembled round the fire of council," he said, "and
await my brother."
"I follow, my brother," the hunter replied, laconically.
When the two men entered the hut, all the chiefs were assembled; among
them were the general, Black Elk, and several other trappers.
The calumet was brought into the middle of the circle by the pipe
bearer; he bowed respectfully towards the four cardinal points, and then
presented the long tube to every chief in his turn.
When the calumet had made the round of the circle, the pipe bearer
emptied the ashes into the fire, murmuring some mystic words, and then
retired.
Then the old chief named the Sun, arose, and after saluting the members
of the council, said--
"Chiefs and warriors, listen to the words which my lungs breathe and
which the Master of Life has placed in my heart. What do you purpose
doing with the twenty prisoners who are now in your hands? Will you
release them that they may continue their life of murder and rapine?
that they may carry off your wives, steal your horses, and kill your
brothers? Will you conduct them to the stone villages of the great white
hearts of the East? The route is long, abounding in dangers, traversed
by mountains and rapid rivers; the prisoners may escape in the journey,
or may surprise you in your sleep and massacre you. And then, you
know, warriors, when you have arrived at the stone villages, the long
knives will release them, for there exists no justice for red men. No,
warriors, the Master of Life, who has, at length, delivered up these
men into our power, wills that they should die. He has marked the term
of their crimes. When we find a jaguar or a grizzly bear upon our path,
we kill them; these men are more cruel than jaguars or grizzlies, they
owe a reckoning for the blood they have shed, an eye for an eye, a tooth
for a tooth. Let them, then, be fastened to the stake of torture. I cast
a necklace of red wampums into the council. Have I spoken well, men of
power?"
After these words, the old chief sat down again. There was a moment of
solemn silence. It was evident that all present approved of his advice.
Loyal Heart waited for a few minutes; he saw that nobody was preparing
to reply to the speech of the Sun; then he arose:--
"Comanche chiefs and warriors, and you white trappers, my brothers," he
said in a mild, sad tone, "the words pronounced by the venerable sachem
are just; unfortunately, the safety of the prairies requires death of
our prisoners. This extremity is terrible, but we are forced to submit
to it, if we desire to enjoy the fruit of our rude labours in peace.
But if we find ourselves constrained to apply the implacable law of the
desert, let us not show ourselves barbarians by choice; let us punish,
since it must be so, but let us punish like men of heart, and not like
cruel men. Let us prove to these bandits that we are executing justice,
that in killing them it is not for the purpose of avenging ourselves,
but the whole of society. Besides, their chief, by far the most guilty
of them, has fallen before the courage and weapons of Eagle Head. Let
us be clement without ceasing to be just. Let us leave them the choice
of their death. No useless torture. The Master of Life will smile upon
us, he will be content with his red children, to whom he will grant
abundance of game in their hunting grounds. I have spoken: have I spoken
well, men of power?"
The members of the council had listened attentively to the words of the
young man. The chiefs had smiled kindly at the noble sentiments he had
expressed; for all, both Indians and trappers, loved and respected him.
Eagle Head arose.
"My brother, Loyal Heart has spoken well," said he; "his years are few
in number, but his wisdom is great. We are happy to find an opportunity
of proving our friendship for him; we seize it with eagerness. We will
do what he desires."
"Thank you!" Loyal Heart replied warmly; "thank you, my brothers! The
Comanche nation is a great and noble nation, which I love; I am proud of
having been adopted by it."
The council broke up, and the chiefs left the lodge. The prisoners,
collected in a group, were strictly guarded by a detachment of warriors.
The public crier called together all the members of the tribe, and the
hunters dispersed about the village.
When all were assembled, Eagle Head arose to speak, and, addressing the
pirates, said--
"Dogs of palefaces, the council of the great chiefs of the powerful
nation of the Comanches, whose vast hunting grounds cover a great part
of the earth, has pronounced your fate. Try, after having lived like
wild beasts, not to die like timid old women; be brave, and then,
perhaps, the Master of Life will have pity on you, and will receive you
after death into the eskennane,--that place of delights where the brave
who have looked death in the face hunt during eternity."
"We are ready," replied Frank, unmoved; "fasten us to the stakes, invent
the most atrocious tortures; you will not see us blench."
"Our brother, Loyal Heart," the chief continued, "has interceded
for you. You will not be fastened to the stake; the chiefs leave to
yourselves the choice of your death."
Then was awakened that characteristic trait in the manners of the
whites, who, inhabiting the prairies for any length of time, end by
forsaking the customs of their ancestors, and adopt those of the Indians.
The proposition made by Eagle Head was revolting to the pride of the
pirates.
"By what right," Frank cried, "does Loyal Heart intercede for us? Does
he fancy that we are not men? that tortures will be able to draw from
us cries and complaints unworthy of us? No! no! lead us to punishment;
whatever you can inflict upon us will not be so cruel as what we make
the warriors of your nation undergo when they fall into our hands."
At these insulting words a sensation of anger pervaded the ranks of the
Indians, whilst the pirates, on the contrary, uttered cries of joy and
triumph.
"Dogs! rabbits!" they shouted; "Comanche warriors are old women, who
ought to wear petticoats!"
Loyal Heart advanced, and silence was re-established.
"You have wrongly understood the words of the chief," he said; "in
leaving you the choice of your death, it was not an insult, but a mark
of respect that he paid you. Here is my dagger; you shall be unbound,
let it pass from hand to hand, and be buried in all your hearts in turn.
The man who is free, and without hesitation kills himself at a single
blow, is braver than he who, fastened to the stake of torture, and
unable to endure the pain, insults his executioner in order to receive a
prompt death."
A loud acclamation welcomed these words of the hunter.
The pirates consulted among themselves for an instant with a look, then,
with one spontaneous movement, they made the sign of the cross, and
cried with one voice--
"We accept your offer!"
The crowd, an instant before, so tumultuous and violent, became silent
and attentive, awed by the expectation of the terrible tragedy which was
about to be played before them.
"Unbind the prisoners," Loyal Heart commanded.
This order was immediately executed.
"Your dagger!" said Frank.
The hunter gave it to him.
"Thank you, and farewell!" said the pirate, in a firm voice; and,
opening his vestments, he deliberately, and with a smile, as if he
enjoyed death, buried the dagger up to the hilt in his heart.
A livid pallor gradually invaded his countenance, his eyes rolled in
their orbits, and casting round wild and aimless glances, he staggered
like a drunken man, and rolled upon the ground.
He was dead.
"My turn!" cried the pirate next him, and plucking the still reeking
dagger from the wound, he plunged it into his heart.
He fell upon the body of the first victim.
After him came the turn of another, then another, and so on; not one
hesitated, not one displayed weakness,--all fell smiling, and thanking
Loyal Heart for the death they owed to him.
The spectators were awestruck by this terrible execution; but,
fascinated by the frightful spectacle,--drunk, so to say, with the
odour of blood, they stood with haggard eyes and heaving breasts,
without having the power to turn away their looks.
There soon remained but one pirate. This man contemplated for a moment
the heap of bodies which lay before him; then, drawing the dagger from
the breast of him who had preceded him, he said with a smile,--
"A fellow is lucky to die in such good company; but where the devil do
we go to after death? Bah! what a fool I am! I shall soon know!"
And with a gesture quick as thought he stabbed himself.
He fell instantly quite dead.
This frightful slaughter did not last more than a quarter of an hour.[1]
Not one of the pirates had struck twice; all were killed by the first
blow.
"The dagger is mine!" said Eagle Head, drawing it smoking from the
still palpitating body of the last bandit. "It is a good weapon for a
warrior;" and he placed it coolly in his belt, after having wiped it
upon the grass.
The bodies of the pirates were scalped, and borne out of the camp.
They were abandoned to the vultures and the urubus, for whom they would
furnish an ample feast, and who, attracted by the odour of blood, were
already hovering over them, uttering lugubrious cries of joy.
The formidable troop of Captain Waktehno was thus annihilated.
Unfortunately there were other pirates in the prairies.
After the execution, the Indians re-entered their huts carelessly; for
them it had only been one of those spectacles to which they had been for
a long time accustomed, and which have no effect upon their nerves.
The trappers, on the contrary, notwithstanding the rough life they lead,
and the frequency with which they see blood shed--either their own or
that of other people, dispersed silently and noiselessly, with hearts
oppressed by the spectacle of this frightful butchery.
Loyal Heart and the general directed their steps towards the grotto.
The ladies, shut up in the interior of the cavern, were ignorant of the
terrible drama that had been played, and of the sanguinary expiation
which had terminated it.
[1] All this scene is historical, and strictly true; the author
was present in Apacheria, at a similar execution.]
CHAPTER XV.
THE PARDON.
The interview between the general and his niece was most touching.
The old soldier, so roughly treated for some time past, was delighted to
press to his bosom the innocent child who constituted his whole family,
and who, by a miracle, had escaped the misfortunes that had assailed her.
For a long time they forgot themselves in a delightful interchange of
ideas; the general anxiously inquiring how she had lived while he was a
prisoner--the young girl questioning him upon the perils he had run,
and the ill-treatment he had suffered.
"Now, uncle," she said at length, "what is your intention?"
"Alas! my child," he replied, in a tone of sadness, and stifling a sigh;
"we must without delay leave these terrible countries, and return to
Mexico."
The heart of the young girl throbbed painfully, although she inwardly
confessed the necessity for a prompt return. To leave the prairies
would be to leave him she loved--to separate herself, without hope of
a reunion, from a man whose admirable character every minute passed in
sweet intercourse had made her more duly appreciate, and who had now
become indispensable to her life and her happiness.
"What ails thee, my child? You are sad, and your eyes are full of
tears," her uncle asked, pressing her hand affectionately.
"Alas! dear uncle," she replied, in a plaintive tone; "how can I be
otherwise than sad after all that has happened within the last few days?
My heart is oppressed."
"That is true. The frightful events of which we have been the witnesses
and the victims are more than enough to make you sad; but you are still
very young, my child. In a short time these events will only remain in
your thoughts as the remembrance of facts which, thanks to Heaven! you
will not have to dread in future."
"Then shall we depart soon?"
"Tomorrow, if possible. What should I do here now? Heaven itself
declares against me, since it obliges me to renounce this expedition,
the success of which would have made the happiness of my old age; but
God is not willing that I should be consoled. His will be done!" he
added, in a tone of resignation.
"What do you mean, dear uncle?" the maiden asked, eagerly.
"Nothing that can interest you at present, my child. You had better,
therefore, be ignorant of it, and that I should suffer alone. I am old.
I am accustomed to sorrow," he said, with a melancholy smile.
"My poor uncle!"
"Thank you for the kindness you evince, my child; but let us quit this
subject that saddens you; let us speak a little, if you please, of the
worthy people to whom we owe so many obligations."
"Of Loyal Heart?" Doña Luz murmured, with a blush.
"Yes," the general replied. "Loyal Heart and his mother; the excellent
woman whom I have not yet been able to thank, on account of the wound
of poor Belhumeur, and to whom it is due, you say, that you have not
suffered any privations."
"She has had all the cares of a tender mother for me!"
"How can I ever acquit myself towards her and her noble son? She is
blessed in having such a child! Alas! that comfort is not given to me--I
am alone!" the general said, letting his head sink into his hands.
"And I?" said the maiden, in a faint voice.
"Oh! you?" he replied, embracing her tenderly; "you are my beloved
daughter, but I have no son!"
"That is true!" she murmured, thoughtfully.
"Loyal Heart," the general continued, "is of too proud a nature to
accept anything of me. What am I to do? how acquit myself towards him?
how acknowledge, as I ought, the immense services he has rendered me?"
There was a moment of silence.
Doña Luz inclined towards the general, and kissing his brow, she said to
him in a low tremulous voice, concealing her face upon his shoulder:
"Uncle, I have an idea."
"Speak, my darling," he replied, "speak without fear; it is, perhaps,
God who inspires you."
"You have no son to whom you can bequeath your name and your immense
fortune, have you, uncle?"
"Alas! I thought for a time, I might recover one, but that hope has
vanished for ever; you know, child, I am alone."
"Neither Loyal Heart nor his mother would accept anything from you."
"That I believe."
"And yet, I think there is a way of obliging them, of forcing them even."
"What is it?" he said, eagerly.
"Dear uncle, since you regret so much not having a son to whom you
could, after you, leave your name, why not adopt Loyal Heart?"
The general looked at her, she was covered with blushes, and trembling
like a leaf.
"Oh! darling!" he said, embracing her, "your idea is a charming one,
but it is impracticable. I should be happy and proud to have a son like
Loyal Heart. You yourself have told me how his mother adores him; she
must be jealous of his love, she will never consent to share it with a
stranger."
"Perhaps she might!" the young girl murmured.
"And then," the general added, "if even, which is impossible, his mother
through love of him, in order to give him a rank in society, should
accept my offer, mothers being capable of the noblest sacrifices to
secure the happiness of their children, he himself would refuse. Can you
believe, dearest, that this man, brought up in the desert, whose whole
life has been passed among unexpected, exciting scenes, in face of a
sublime nature, would consent, for the sake of a little gold which he
despises, and a name that is useless to him, to renounce that glorious
life of adventures so full of pleasant and terrible emotions, which has
become necessary to him? Oh, no! he would be stifled in our cities;
to an exalted organization like his our civilization would be mortal.
Forget this idea, my dear daughter. Alas! I feel convinced he would
refuse."
"Who knows?" she said, shaking her head.
"God is my witness," the general resumed, earnestly, "that I should be
most happy to succeed; all my wishes would be fulfilled. But why should
I flatter myself with wild chimeras? He will refuse, I tell you! And I
am forced to confess he would be right in doing so!"
"Well, but try, uncle!" she said, coaxingly; "if your proposal be
repulsed, you will at least have proved to Loyal Heart that you are not
ungrateful, and that you have known how to appreciate him at his just
value."
"Do you wish it?" said the general, who asked no better than to be
convinced.
"I _do_ wish it, uncle," she answered, embracing him to conceal her
joy and her blushes. "I do not know why, but it appears to me you will
succeed."
"Well, so be it, then," the general murmured, with a melancholy smile.
"Request Loyal Heart and his mother to come to me."
"In five minutes they shall be here!" she cried, radiant with joy.
And, bounding like a gazelle, the young girl disappeared, running along
the windings of the grotto.
As soon as he was alone, the general hung down his pensive head, and
fell into melancholy and deep reflections.
A few minutes later, Loyal Heart and his mother, brought by Doña Luz,
were before him.
The general raised his head, bowed with courtesy as they entered, and
with a sign desired his niece to retire.
The young girl complied in great agitation.
There only prevailed in this part of the grotto a faint light, which
did not allow objects to be seen distinctly; by a strange caprice, the
mother of Loyal Heart had put on her rebozo in such a manner that it
almost entirely covered her face; so that, notwithstanding the attention
with which the general looked at her, he could not succeed in discerning
her features.
"You have sent for us, general," Loyal Heart said, cheerfully, "and, as
you see, we have hastened to comply with your desire."
"Thank you for your prompt attention, my friend," the general replied.
"In the first place, receive the expression of my gratitude for the
important services you have rendered me. What I say to you, my friend--I
entreat you to permit me to give you that title--is addressed likewise
to your good and excellent mother, for the tender care she has bestowed
on my niece."
"General," the hunter replied, with emotion, "I thank you for these kind
words, which amply repay me for what you think you owe me. In coming
to your aid, I only accomplished a vow I have made never to leave my
neighbour without help. Believe me I desire no other recompense but your
esteem, and I am overpaid for the little I have done by the satisfaction
I at this moment experience."
"I should wish, notwithstanding, permit me to repeat--I should wish
notwithstanding to reward you in another fashion."
"Reward me!" the fiery young man cried, colouring deeply, and drawing
back.
"Allow me to finish," the general resumed, warmly; "if the proposition I
wish to submit to you displeases you, well then you can answer me, and
answer me as frankly as I am about to explain myself."
"Speak, general, I will listen to you attentively."
"My friend, my journey into the prairies had a sacred object, which
I have not been able to attain; you know the reason why--the men who
followed me have died at my side. Left almost alone, I find myself
forced to renounce a search which, if it had been crowned with success,
would have constituted the happiness of the few years I have yet to
live. God is chastising me severely. I have seen all my children die
around me; one alone would, perhaps, still be left to me, but him, in a
moment of senseless pride, I drove from my presence. Now, in the decline
of life, my house is empty, my hearth, is solitary. I am alone, alas!
without relations, without friends, without an heir to whom I could
bequeath not my fortune, but my name, which a long line of ancestors
have transmitted to me without stain. Will you replace for me the family
I have lost? answer me, Loyal Heart, will you be to me a son?"
Whilst pronouncing these words, the general rose from his seat, seized
the hand of the young man and pressed it warmly, his eyes filled with
tears.
At this unexpected offer the hunter stood astonished, breathless, and
not knowing what to reply.
His mother suddenly threw back her rebozo, and displaying her
countenance glowing and transfigured, so to speak, with intense joy,
stepped between the two men, placed her hand upon the shoulder of the
general, looked at him earnestly, and in a voice rendered tremulous by
emotion, exclaimed--
"At length, Don Ramón de Garillas, you recall that son whom twenty years
ago you so cruelly abandoned!"
"Woman! what do you mean?" the general asked, in a broken voice.
"I mean, Don Ramón," she replied, with an air of supreme majesty, "that
I am Doña Jesuita, your wife, and that Loyal Heart is your son Rafaël,
whom you cursed."
"Oh!" the general cried, falling on his knees, and with his face bathed
in tears, "pardon, pardon, my son!"
"My father!" Loyal Heart cried, springing towards him, and endeavouring
to raise him up; "what are you doing?"
"My son," said the old man, almost wild with grief and joy, "I will not
quit this posture till I have obtained your pardon."
"Arise, arise, Don Ramón!" said Doña Jesuita, in an affectionate tone;
"it is long since the hearts of the mother and the son have felt
anything for you but love and respect."
"Oh!" cried the old man, embracing them closely by turns; "this is too
much happiness--I do not deserve to be so happy after my cruel conduct."
"Father," the young man replied, nobly, "it is owing to the merited
chastisement you inflicted upon me that I have become an honest man;
forget the past, then, which is now nothing but a dream, think only of
the future, which smiles upon you."
At this moment Doña Luz appeared, blushing and timid.
As soon as he perceived her, the general sprang towards her, took her by
the hand, and led her to Doña Jesuita, whose arms were opened to receive
her.
"My niece!" he said, with a face radiant with joy, "you may love Loyal
Heart without fear, for he is really my son. God, in his infinite
goodness has permitted that I should find him again at the moment when
I despaired of such happiness!"
The young girl uttered a cry of joy, and concealed her blushing face in
the bosom of Doña Jesuita, abandoning her hand to Rafaël, who covered it
with kisses, while he fell at her feet.
EPILOGUE.
It was a few months after the expedition of the Count de Raousset
Boulbon.
At that period the name of Frenchmen stood high in Sonora.
All travellers of that nation whom chance brought into that part of
America were certain, no matter where they stopped, to meet with a most
kind and sympathetic welcome.
Urged on by my vagabond humour, without any other object but that of
seeing fresh countries, I had quitted Mexico.
Mounted upon an excellent mustang, which a friend of mine, wood ranger,
had lassoed and made me a present of I had traversed the whole American
continent; that is to say, I had made, by short journeys and always
alone, according to my custom, a ramble of some hundreds of leagues,
crossing mountains covered with snow, immense deserts, rapid rivers,
and impetuous torrents, simply as an amateur, in order to visit the
Spanish cities which rise along the coast of the Pacific Ocean.
I had been travelling for fifty-seven days as a mere wanderer, stopping
wherever caprice invited me to pitch my tent.
I was, however, approaching the object I had determined on, and I
found myself within a few leagues of Hermosillo, that city which,
surrounded by walls, possessing a population of fifteen thousand souls,
and defended by eleven hundred regular troops commanded by General
Bravo, one of the best and most courageous officers of Mexico, had been
audaciously attacked by the Count de Raousset, at the head of less
than two hundred and fifty Frenchmen, and carried, at the point of the
bayonet, in two hours.
The sun had set, and the darkness became greater every second. My poor
horse, fatigued with a journey of more than fifteen leagues, and which
I had overridden some days before in my endeavours to arrive at Guaymas
sooner, advanced with great difficulty, stumbling at every step over the
sharp stones of the route.
I was myself excessively fatigued and was dying with hunger, so that I
contemplated with very pitiable feelings the prospect of passing still
another night under the starry canopy of heaven.
I dread losing my way in the darkness; my eyes in vain scanned the
horizon for a light that might guide me towards a habitation. I knew
that several haciendas (farms) were to be met within the neighbourhood
of the city of Hermosillo.
Like all men who have for a long time led a wandering life, during which
they have been incessantly the sport of events more or less contrary, I
am endowed with a good stock of philosophy, an indispensable thing when
one is travelling, particularly in America, where, for the most part,
one is left to one's own industry without having the resource of being
able to reckon upon any foreign aid.
I made up my mind, like a brave traveller, renouncing with a sigh of
regret the hope of supper and shelter. As the night grew darker and
darker, and as it was useless to ride where I could not see, perhaps
in a direction diametrically opposite to the one I ought to follow, I
looked about me for a suitable place to establish my bivouac, light a
fire, and find a little grass for my nag, which, as well as myself, was
dying with hunger.
This was not an easy matter in these countries calcined by a devouring
sun, and covered with a sand as fine as dust. I, however, after a long
search, discovered a miserable tree, in the shade of which a very scanty
vegetation had sprung up.
I was about to dismount, when my ear was struck with the distant sound
of the steps of a horse, which appeared to be following the same route
as myself, and which advanced rapidly.
I remained motionless.
Meeting with a horseman at night in the Mexican plains always suggests
ample matter for reflection.
The stranger we meet with may be an honest man, but it would be a safer
wager to lay that he is a rogue.
In this state of doubt, I cocked my revolver, and waited.
My waiting was not long.
At the end of five minutes the horseman came up to me.
"_Buenas noches, caballero_," (Good evening, sir,) said he, as he passed.
There was something so frank in the tone in which this salute was, as it
were, thrown at me, that my suspicions vanished instantly.
I replied.
"Where are you going so late?" he said.
"In good faith," I replied, ingenuously, "I should be quite delighted
if I knew myself; I think I have lost my way, and, in that doubt, I was
preparing to pass the night under this tree."
"A poor bed that!" said the horseman, shaking his head.
"Yes," I remarked philosophically; "but for want of a better I must
content myself with it. I am dying with hunger, my horse is knocked
up, and we do not either of us care to wander further in search of
problematic hospitality, particularly at this hour of the night."
"Hum!" said the stranger, casting a glance at my mustang, who, with his
head lowered, was endeavouring to snap a few blades of grass, "your
horse appears to be well bred; do you think he is so much fatigued that
he could not manage to go a couple of miles, at most?"
"Oh! he would go for two hours if necessary," I said, with a smile.
"Follow me, then, in God's name," the stranger answered, in a jovial
tone; "I promise you both a good bed and a good supper."
"Which offer I accept for both with thanks," I said, making my horse
feel the spur.
The noble beast, which appeared to understand what was going on, fell
into a very fair trot.
The stranger was, as well as I could judge, a man of about forty, with
an open countenance and intelligent features; he wore the costume of the
inhabitants of the country, a broad brimmed felt hat, the crown of which
was encircled by a gold band three fingers broad, a variegated zarapé
fell from his shoulders to his thighs, and covered the quarters of his
horse, and heavy silver spurs were fastened by straps to his vaquero
boots.
Like all Mexicans, he had, hanging at his left side, a machete, which is
a sort of short and straight sabre, very much like the sword-bayonets of
French foot soldiers.
Conversation soon commenced between us, and was not long in becoming
expansive.
At the end of about half an hour, I perceived at some distance before
me, issuing from the darkness, the imposing mass of a large house;
it was the hacienda in which my unknown guide had promised me a good
welcome, a good supper, and a good bed.
My horse snorted several times, and of its own accord mended its pace.
I cast a curious glance around me, and could discern the lofty trees of
a huerta well kept up, and every appearance of comfort.
I inwardly rendered thanks to my good star, which had brought about so
fortunate a rencontre.
At our approach a horseman, placed, no doubt, as a vidette, uttered
a loud challenge; while seven or eight rastreros of pure blood, came
yelping with joy, bounding around my guide, and smelling me one after
another.
"It is I," my companion replied.
"Eh! come along, Belhumeur," replied the sentry; "we have been expecting
you more than an hour."
"Go and inform the master that I bring a traveller with me," cried
my guide, "and be sure not to forget to tell Black Elk that he is a
Frenchman."
"How do you know that?" I asked, a little annoyed, for I piqued myself
upon speaking Spanish with great purity.
"_Pardi!_" he said laughing, "we are almost compatriots."
"How so?"
"_Dame!_ I am a Canadian, you understand, and I soon recognised the
accent."
During the exchange of these few words, we had arrived at the door of
the hacienda, where several persons waited to receive us.
It appeared that the announcement of my quality of Frenchman, made by my
companion, had produced a certain sensation.
Ten or twelve domestics held torches, by favour of which I could
distinguish six or eight persons at least, men and women, coming forward
to welcome us.
The master of the hacienda, whom I recognized as such at once, advanced
towards me with a lady hanging on his arm, who must have been a great
beauty, and might yet pass for handsome, although she was near forty
years of age.
Her husband was a man of about fifty, of lofty stature, and endowed with
a marked, manly countenance; around them clung, with staring eyes, five
or six charming children, who resembled them too strongly not to belong
to them.
A little behind them, half concealed, in the shade, was a lady of about
seventy and an old gentleman apparently not far from a hundred.
I took in at a glance the whole of this family, the aspect of which had
something patriarchal in it that attracted sympathy and respect.
"Sir," said the hacendero kindly, seizing the bridle of my horse to
assist me to dismount, "Esa casa se dé a vm (This house is yours); I can
only thank my friend Belhumeur for having succeeded in bringing you to
my house."
"I must admit, señor," I said with a smile, "that he had not much
trouble in doing so, and that I accept with gratitude the offer he was
so kind as to make me."
"If you will permit it, señor, as it is getting late," the hacendero
replied, "and particularly as you stand in need of repose, we will go at
once into the eating room; we were on the point of sitting down to table
when your arrival was announced."
"Señor, I thank you a thousand times," I remarked with a bow; "your kind
welcome has made me forget all my fatigue."
"We can easily recognise French politeness," said the lady, with a
pleasing smile.
I offered my arm to the lady of the house, and we proceeded to the
eating-room, where, upon an immense table, was served an Homeric repast,
the appetizing odour of which reminded me that I had fasted for nearly
twelve hours.
We took our seats. Forty persons, at least, were assembled round the
table.
In this hacienda was kept up the patriarchal custom which is now falling
into desuetude, of allowing the servants to eat with the masters of the
house.
All that I saw, all that I heard, charmed me in this abode; it had a
perfume of kindness about it which made the heart beat responsively.
When the sharp edge of appetite was a little blunted, the conversation,
which had languished at first, became general.
"Well! Belhumeur," the grandfather asked my guide, who, seated beside
me, was vigorously employing his fork, "have you found the track of the
jaguar?"
"I have not only found one track, general, but I fear the jaguar is not
alone, and has a companion."
"Oh! oh!" said the old man, "are you sure of that?"
"I may be deceived, general, and yet I don't think I am. Ask Loyal
Heart; I had something of a reputation yonder, in the prairies of the
West."
"Father," said the hacendero, making an affirmative sign, "Belhumeur
must be right, he is too old a hunter to be at fault."
"Then we must have a battue, to rid ourselves of these dangerous
enemies. Is not that your opinion, Don Rafaël?"
"That was my intention, father. I am glad you approve of it. Black Elk
is warned, and everything is ready."
"The hunt may take place as soon as is agreeable, everything is in
order," said an individual of a certain age, seated not far from me.
The door opened, and a man entered.
His arrival was saluted with cries of joy. Don Rafaël rose eagerly, and
went towards him, followed by his lady.
I was the more astonished at this welcome, from the newly arrived
guest being nothing but an Indian _bravo_, or independent; he wore the
complete costume of the warriors of his nation. Thanks to the numerous
sojourns I had made among the redskins, I thought that this man must
belong to one of the numerous tribes of the Comanches.
"Oh! Eagle Head! Eagle Head!" shouted the children, surrounding him with
glee.
The Indian took them in his arms, one after the other, kissed them,
and got rid of them by giving them some of those little toys which the
aborigines of America cut with such exquisite taste.
He then advanced smiling, saluted the numerous company assembled in the
hall with perfect ease, and took his place between the master and the
mistress of the house.
"We expected you before sunset, chief," said the lady, in a friendly
manner: "it is not right to disappoint your friends."
"Eagle Head was on the track of the jaguars," said the chief,
sententiously; "my daughter must not have cause for fear; the jaguars
are dead."
"What! have you already killed the jaguars, chief?" said Don Rafaël,
eagerly.
"My brother will see. The skins are very handsome; they are in the
court."
"Well, chief," said the old gentleman, holding out his hand to him, "I
see you are determined always to be our Providence."
"My father speaks well," the chief answered, bowing; "the Master of Life
counsels him; the family of my father is my family."
After the repast, I was conducted by Don Rafaël to a comfortable
bedroom, where I was not long in falling asleep, though my dreams were
very busy with all I had seen and heard during the evening.
On the morrow my host my hosts would not hear of my leaving them; and
I must confess that I did not very strongly insist upon continuing
my journey. Not only was I charmed with the friendly welcome I had
received, but still further, a secret curiosity urged me to stay a few
days longer.
A week thus passed away.
Don Rafaël and his family overwhelmed me with kindnesses; life passed
with me as if in a continual enchantment.
I do not know why, but ever since my arrival in the hacienda, all that
I was witness of augmented that curiosity which had seized upon me from
the first moment.
It appeared to me that at the bottom of the happiness which I saw
beaming in every face of this united family, there had been a long train
of misfortunes.
They were not, as I believed, people whose lives had flowed on calmly
and tranquilly; I imagined, though I scarcely know why, that after being
a long time tossed about upon the ocean of some trouble, they had at
length found a port.
Their countenances were impressed with that majesty which great sorrows
alone can give, and the wrinkles which furrowed their brows appeared to
me too deep to have been traced by anything but grief.
This idea was so strongly impressed upon my brain that, in spite of all
my efforts to drive it away, it incessantly returned, more tenaciously
and more incisively.
In a few days, I had become the friend of the family nothing regarding
myself was unknown to them; they had admitted me to the closest
intimacy. In this state, I had constantly one question on my lips, but
I knew not how to shape it, so much did I fear committing a serious
indiscretion or reviving old causes of grief.
One evening, as Don Rafaël and I were returning from hunting, when we
were within a few steps of the house, he placed his arm in mine.
"What is the matter with you, Don Gustavio?" he said; "you are dull and
preoccupied; do you begin to be tired of us?"
"You cannot imagine that," I replied warmly; "on the contrary, I have no
words to express how happy I am with you."
"Well, remain then," he cried frankly; "there is still plenty of room
for a friend at our hearth."
"Thanks," I said, much affected, and pressing his hand; "I would that it
could be so; but, alas! it is impossible. Like the Jew of the legend,
I have within me a demon which, incessantly cries 'Move on!' I must
accomplish my destiny."
And I sighed.
"Now, come," he resumed, "be frank! tell me what it is that occupies
your thoughts; for several days past you have made us all very
uncomfortable; nobody has dared to question you about it," he added,
with a smile; "but I have taken my courage with both hands, as you
Frenchmen say, and made up my mind to ask you."
"Well!" I replied, "as you desire it, I will tell you; but I entreat you
not to take my frankness ill, and to be assured that there is at least
as much interest as curiosity in the matter."
"Well, then," he said, with an indulgent smile, "confess yourself to me;
don't be afraid, I will give you absolution--go on!"
"I really should like to make 'a clean breast of it,' and tell you
everything."
"That is the way,--speak."
"I have formed an idea, although I do not know why, that you have not
always been as happy as you are now, and that it has been by long
misfortunes that you have purchased the blessings you at present enjoy."
A melancholy smile passed over his lips.
"Pardon me!" I cried eagerly; "pardon the indiscretion I have committed!
What I feared has come to pass! Let there be no more question between
us, I conjure you, of my silly fancy!"
I was really very much hurt at reflecting on my impertinence.
Don Rafaël replied to me with kindness.
"Why not?" he said; "I see nothing indiscreet in your question; it
arises solely from the interest you have conceived for us: it is only
when we love people that we become so clear-sighted. No, my friend, you
are not wrong, we have all undergone a rude trial. Since you desire it,
you shall know all; and perhaps you will confess, after having heard the
recital of what we have suffered, that we have indeed purchased dearly
the happiness we enjoy. But let us go in; they are probably waiting for
us to sit down to table."
That evening Don Rafaël retained several members of the family round
him, and, after having ordered cigarettes and some wine to be placed
upon the table, he said,--
"My friend, I am about to satisfy your excusable curiosity. Belhumeur,
Black Elk, and Eagle Head, my father and mother, as well as my dear
wife, who have all been actors in the drama of which you are going to
hear the strange recital, will come to my assistance if my memory fails
me."
Then, reader, Don Rafaël related to me what you have just read.
I must confess that these adventures, told by the man who had played
the principal character, and before those who had so great a share in
them,--I confess, I say, that these adventures interested me to the
highest degree, which cannot be expected to be the case with you; they,
necessarily, lose much coming from my mouth, for I cannot impart to them
that animation which constituted their principal charm.
A week afterwards I left my amiable hosts, but instead of embarking at
Guaymas, as I had at first intended, I set out with Eagle Head on an
excursion into Apacheria, an excursion during which chance made me the
witness of extraordinary scenes, which I will, perhaps, relate to you
some day, if these you have now read have not been too wearisome to you.
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Trappers of Arkansas, by Gustave Aimard