No longer was it from fear that I held back; but a hesitancy springing
from surprise mingled with admiration. The sight of so much beauty--
grand as unexpected--was enough to unnerve one, especially in such a
place--and one to whose eye the female form had so long been a stranger.
Su-wa-nee's I had seen only at a distance; and hers, to my sight, was
no longer beautiful. I hesitated to show myself--lest the sight of me
should alarm this lovely apparition, and cause her to take flight. The
thought was not unnatural--since the tricoloured pigments of black, red,
and white were still upon my skin; and I must have presented the picture
of a chimney-sweep with a dining-plate glued upon his breast. In such a
guise I knew that I must cut a ludicrous figure, and would have slipped
back to the pool, and washed myself; but I dreaded to take my eyes from
that beautiful vision, lest I might never look upon it again! In my
absence, she would be gone? I feared even then, that on seeing me she
might take flight: and I was too faint to follow her. For this reason,
I stood silently gazing through my leafy covert, like one who watches
the movements of some shy and beautiful bird. I almost dreaded to
breathe lest the sound might alarm her. I was planning, at the same
time, how I should initiate an interview.
Her voice again reached me, as she recommenced scolding the dog: even
its chiding tones were sweet. She had approached, and stooped for a
moment over the bighorn, as if to satisfy herself that the animal was
dead. Her canine companion did not appear to be quite sure of the fact:
for he continued to spring repeatedly upon the carcass with open mouth,
as if eager to devour it.
"Off, off!" cried she, threatening the dog with the butt of her rifle.
"You wicked Wolf! what has got into you? Have I not told you that the
thing is dead--what more do you want? Mind, sirrah!" continued she,
shaking her finger significantly at the dog--"mind, my good fellow!
_you_ had no part in the killing of it; and if you spoil the skin, you
shall have no share in the flesh. You hear me? Not a morsel!"
Wolf appeared to understand the hint and retired. Impelled by hunger, I
accepted the cue:
"You will not refuse a morsel to one who is starving?"
"Aha! who speaks?" cried the huntress, turning round with a glance
rather of inquiry than alarm. "Down, Wolf!" commanded she, as the dog
bounded forward with a growl. "Down, you savage brute! Don't you hear
that some one is starving? Ha! a negro! Poor devil! where can he have
come from, I wonder?"
Only my head was visible--a thick bush in front of me concealing my
body. The coat of char upon my face was deceiving her.
"No, not a negro," said I, stepping out and discovering my person--"not
a negro, though I have been submitted to the treatment of one."
"Ho! white, red, and black! Mercy on me, what a frightful harlequin!
Ha, ha, ha!"
"My toilet appears to amuse you, fair huntress? I might apologise for
it--since I can assure you it is not my own conception, nor is it to my
taste any more than--"
"You are a white man, then?" said she, interrupting me--at the same time
stepping nearer to examine me.
"I was, yesterday," I replied, turning half round, to give her a sight
of my shoulders, which the Indian artist had left untouched. "To-day, I
am as you see."
"O heavens!" she exclaimed, suddenly changing her manner, "this red? It
is blood! You are wounded, sir? Where is your wound?"
"In several places I am wounded; but not dangerously. They are only
scratches: I have no fear of them."
"Who gave you these wounds?"
"Indians. I have just escaped from them."
"Indians! What Indians?"
"Arapahoes."
"Arapahoes! Where did you encounter them?"
The question was put in a hurried manner, and in a tone that betrayed
excitement.
"On the Huerfano," I replied--"by the Orphan butte. It was the band of
a chief known as the Red-Hand."
"Ha! The Red-Hand on the Huerfano! Stranger! are you sure of this?"
The earnest voice in which the interrogatory was again put somewhat
surprised me. I answered by giving a brief and rapid detail of our
capture, and subsequent treatment--without mentioning the names of my
travelling companions, or stating the object of our expedition. Indeed,
I was not allowed to enter into particulars. I was hurried on by
interpellations from my listener--who, before I could finish the
narrative of my escape, again interrupted me, exclaiming in an excited
manner:
"Red-Hand in the valley of the Huerfano! news for Wa-ka-ra!" After a
pause she hastily inquired: "How many warriors has the Red-Hand with
him?"
"Nearly two hundred."
"Not more than two hundred?"
"No--rather less, I should say."
"It is well--You say you have a horse?"
"My horse is at hand."
"Bring him up, then, and come along with me!"
"But my comrades? I must follow the train, that I may be able to return
and rescue them?"
"You need not, for such a purpose. There is one not far off who can aid
you in that--better than the escort you speak of. If too late to save
their lives, he may avenge their deaths for you. You say the caravan
passed yesterday?"
"Yesterday about noon."
"You could not overtake it, and return in time. The Red-Hand would be
gone. Besides, you cannot get from this place to the trail taken by the
caravan, without going back by the canon; and there you might meet those
from whom you have escaped. You cannot cross that way: the ridge is
impassable."
As she said this, she pointed to the left--the direction which I had
intended to take. I could see through a break in the bluff a
precipitous mountain spur running north and south--parallel with the
ravine I had been threading. It certainly appeared impassable--trending
along the sky like the escarpment of some gigantic fortress. If this
was true, there would be but little chance of my overtaking the escort
in time. I had no longer a hope of being able to effect the rescue of
my comrades. The delay, no doubt, would be fatal. In all likelihood,
both Wingrove and Sure-shot had ere this been sacrificed to the
vengeance of the Arapahoes, freshly excited by my escape. Only from a
sense of duty did I purpose returning: rather with the idea of being
able to avenge their deaths.
What meant this mysterious maiden? Who possessed the power to rescue my
comrades from two hundred savages--the most warlike upon the plains?
Who was he that could aid me in avenging them?
"Follow me, and you shall see!" replied the huntress, in answer to my
interrogatory. "Your horse! your horse! Hasten, or we shall be too
late. The Red-Hand in the valley of the Huerfano! Wa-ka-ra will
rejoice at the news. Your horse! your horse!" I hastened back for my
Arab, and hurriedly led him up to the spot.
"A beautiful creature!" exclaimed she, on seeing the horse; "no wonder
you were able to ride off from your captors. Mount!"
"And you?"
"I shall go afoot. But stay! time is precious. Can your steed carry us
both?"
"Undoubtedly he can."
"Then it is better we should both ride. Half an hour is everything; and
if the Red-Hand should escape--You mount first--be quick!"
It was not the time to be squeamish--even under the glance of the
loveliest eyes. Taking the robe from my shoulders, I spread it over the
back of my horse; and employing a piece of the laryette as a surcingle,
I bound it fast. Into the improvised saddle I mounted--the girl, from a
rock, leaping upon the croup behind me. "You, Wolf!" cried she,
apostrophising the dog; "you stay here by the game, and guard it from
the _coyotes_. Remember! rascal! not a mouthful till I return. Now,
stranger!" she continued, shifting closer to me, and clasping me round
the waist, "I am ready. Give your steed to the road; and spare him not,
as you value the lives of your comrades. Up the ravine lies our way.
Ho! onward!"
The brave horse needed no spur. He seemed to understand that speed was
required of him; and, stretching at once into a gallop, carried us gaily
up the gorge.