"_Puez, Senor_!" commenced the Mexican, "your comrades tell me, you have
been campaigning down below on the Rio Grande."
"Quite true--I have."
"Then you know something of our Mexican frontier life--how for the last
half century we have been harassed by the _Indios bravos_--our _ranchos_
given to the flames--our grand _haciendas_ plundered and laid waste--our
very towns attacked--many of them pillaged, destroyed, and now lying in
ruins."
"I have heard of these devastations. Down in Texas, I have myself been
an eye-witness to a similar condition of things."
"Ah! true, _senor_. Down there--in Tejas and Tamaulipas--things, I have
heard, are bad enough. _Carrai_! here in New Mexico they are ten times
worse. There they have the Comanches and Lipanos. Here we have an
enemy on every side. On the east Caygua and Comanche, on the west the
Apache and Navajo. On the south our country is harassed by the Wolf and
Mezcalero Apaches, on the north by their kindred, the Jicarillas; while,
now and then, it pleases our present allies the Utahs, to ornament their
shields with the scalps of our people, and their wigwams with the
fairest of our women. _Carrambo! senor_! a happy country ours, is it
not?"
The ironically bitter speech was intended for a reflection, rather than
an interrogation, and therefore needed no reply. I made none. "_Puez,
amigo_!" continued the Mexican, "I need hardly tell you that there is
scarce a family on the Rio del Norte--from Taos to El Paso--that has not
good cause to lament this unhappy condition of things; scarce one that
has not personally suffered, from the inroads of the savages. I might
speak of houses pillaged and burnt; of maize-fields laid waste to feed
the horses of the roving marauder; of sheep and cattle driven off to
desert fastnesses; bah! what are all these? What signify such trifling
misfortunes, compared with that other calamity, which almost every
family in the land may lament--the loss of one or more of its members--
wife, daughter, sister, child--borne off into hopeless bandage, to
satisfy the will, or gratify the lust, of a merciless barbarian?"
"A fearful state of affairs!"
"_Ay senor_! Even the bride has been snatched off, from before the
altar--from the arms of the bridegroom fondly clasping, and before he
has had time to caress her! _Ay de mi, cavallero_! Truly can I say
that: it has been my own story."
"Yours?"
"Yes--mine. You ask _me_ for souvenirs. There is one that will cling
to me for life!" The Mexican pointed to his mutilated limb.
"_Carrambo_!" continued he, "that is nothing. There is another wound
here--here in my heart. It was received at the same time; and will last
equally as long--only a thousand times more painful."
These words were accompanied by a gesture. The speaker placed his hand
over his heart, and held it there to the end of his speech--as if to
still the sad sigh, that I could see swelling within his bosom. His
countenance, habitually cheerful--almost comic in its expression--had
assumed an air of concentrated anguish. It was easy to divine that he
had been the victim of some cruel outrage. My curiosity had become
fully aroused; and I felt an eager desire to hear a tale, which, though
beyond doubt painful, could not be otherwise than one of romantic
interest.
"Your lameness, then, had something to do with the story of your
blighted love? You say that both misfortunes happened to you at the
same time!" My interrogatives were intended to arouse him from the
reverie into which he had fallen. I was successful; and the recital was
continued.
"True, _senor_--both came together; but you shall hear all. It is not
often I speak of the affair, though it is seldom out of my thoughts, I
have tried to forget it. _Carrambo_! how could I, with a thing like
that constantly recalling it to my memory?" The speaker again pointed
to his deformed foot with a smile of bitter significance. "_Por Dios,
cavallero_! I think of it often enough; but just now more than common.
Their presence--" he nodded towards the lovers, whose forms were just
visible in the grey twilight, "the happiness I see reminds me of my own
misery. More especially does _she_ recall the misfortune to my memory--
this wild huntress who has had misfortunes of her own. But beyond that,
_senor_, though you may think it strange, your _conpaisana_ is
wonderfully like what she was."
"Like whom?"
"Ah! _senor_, I have not told you? She that I loved with all the love
in my heart--the beautiful Gabriella Gonzales."
Men of the Spanish race--however humble their social rank--are gifted
with a certain eloquence; and in this case passion was lending poetry to
the speech. No wonder I became deeply interested in the tale, and
longed to hear more of Gabriella Gonzales.
"_En verdad_," continued the Mexican, after a pause, "there are many
things in the character of your countrywoman to remind me of my lost
love--even in her looks. Gabriella, like her, was beautiful. Perhaps
your comrade yonder might not think her so beautiful as the huntress;
but that is natural. In my mind Gabriella was everything. She had
Indian blood in her veins: we all have in these parts, though we boast
of our pure Spanish descent. No matter; Gabriella was white enough--to
my eyes white as the lily that sparkles upon the surface of the lagoon.
Like yonder maiden, she inherited from her ancestors a free daring
spirit. She feared neither our Indian enemies, nor danger of any
kind--_Por Dios_! Not she."
"Of course she loved you?"
"Ah! that truly did she--else why should she have consented to marry me?
What was I? A poor _cibolero_--at times a hunter and trapper of
beavers, just as I am now? I was possessed of nothing but my horse and
traps; whiles he--_Carrambo! senor_, proud _ricos_ pretended to her
hand!"
It is possible that my countenance may have expressed incredulity. It
was difficult to conceive how the diminutive Mexican--as he appeared
just then in my eyes--could have won the love of such a grand belle as
he was describing Gabriella to be. Still was he not altogether
unhandsome; and in earlier life--before his great misfortune had
befallen him--he might have been gifted with some personal graces. High
qualities, I had heard of his possessing--among others courage beyond
question or suspicion; and in those frontier regions--accursed by the
continual encroachment of Indian warfare, and where human life is every
day in danger--that is a quality of the first class--esteemed by all,
but by none more than those who stand most in need of protection--the
women. Often there as elsewhere--more often than elsewhere--does
courage take precedence of mere personal appearance, and boldness wins
the smile of beauty. It was possible that the possession of this
quality on the part of Pedro Archilete had influenced the heart of the
fair Gabriella. This might explain her preference.
The Mexican must have partially divined my thoughts, as was proved by
the speech that followed. "Yes, _amigo_! more than one rich
_haciendado_ would have been only too happy to have married Gabriella;
and yet she consented to become my wife, though I was just as I am now.
May be a little better looking than at this time; though I can't say
that I ever passed for an Apollo. No--no--_senor_. It was not my good
looks that won the heart of the girl."
"Your good qualities?"
"Not much to boast of, _cavallero_. True, in my youth, I had the name
of being the best horseman in our village--the best _rastreador_--the
most skilful trapper. I could `tail the bull,' `run the cock,' and pick
up a girl's ribbon at full gallop--perhaps a little more adroitly than
my competitors; but I think it was something else that first gained me
the young girl's esteem. I had the good fortune once to save her life--
when, by her own imprudence, she had gone out too far from the village,
and was attacked by a grizzly bear. _Ay de mi_! It mattered not. Poor
nina! She might as well have perished then, by the monster's claws.
She met her death from worse monsters--a death far more horrible; but
you shall hear."
"Go on! From what you have disclosed, I am painfully interested in your
tale."