A shot ringing in my ears caused me to withdraw my attention from the
proceedings of the earless trapper. As I turned I saw a blue cloud
floating away over the prairie, but I could not tell at what the shot
had been fired. Thirty or forty of the hunters had surrounded the
motte, and, halted, were sitting in their saddles in a kind of irregular
circle. They were still at some distance from the timber, as if keeping
out of arrow-range. They held their guns crosswise, and were shouting
to one another.
It was improbable that the savage was alone; doubtless there were some
of his companions in the thicket. There could not be many, however, for
the underwood was not large enough to conceal more than a dozen bodies,
and the keen eyes of the hunters were piercing it in every direction.
They reminded me of so many huntsmen in a gorse waiting the game to be
sprung; but here, the game was human.
It was a terrible spectacle. I looked towards Seguin, thinking that he
might interfere to prevent the barbarous battue. He noticed my
inquiring glance, and turned his face from me. I fancied that he felt
ashamed of the work in which his followers were engaged; but the
killing, or capture, of whatever Indians might be in the motte had now
become a necessary measure, and I knew that any remonstrance of mine
would be disregarded. As for the men themselves, they would have
laughed at it. This was their pastime, their profession, and I am
certain that, at that moment, their feelings were not very different
from those which would have actuated them had they been driving a bear
from his den. They were, perhaps, a trifle more intense; certainly not
more inclined towards mercy.
I reined up my horse, and awaited with painful emotions the _denouement_
of this savage drama.
"Vaya, Irlandes! What did you see?" inquired one of the Mexicans,
appealing to Barney. I saw by this that it was the Irishman who had
fired the shot.
"A rid-skin, by japers!" replied the latter.
"Warn't it yer own shadder ye sighted in the water?" cried a hunter,
jeeringly.
"Maybe it was the divil, Barney?"
"In trath, frinds, I saw a somethin' that looked mighty like him, and I
kilt it too."
"Ha! ha! Barney has killed the devil. Ha! ha!"
"Wagh!" exclaimed a trapper, spurring his horse toward the thicket; "the
fool saw nothin'. I'll chance it, anyhow."
"Stop, comrade!" cried the hunter Garey; "let's take a safer plan.
Redhead's right. Thar's Injuns in them bushes, whether he seen it or
not; that skunk warn't by himself, I reckin; try this a way!"
The young trapper dismounted, and turned his horse broadside to the
bushes. Keeping on the outside, he commenced walking the animal in a
spiral ring that gradually closed in upon the clump. In this way his
body was screened; and his head only could be seen above the pommel of
his saddle, over which he rested his rifle, cocked and ready.
Several others, observing this movement on the part of Garey,
dismounted, and followed his example.
A deep silence prevailed as they narrowed the diameters of their
circling courses.
In a short time they were close in to the motte, yet still no arrow
whizzed out. Was there no one there? So it seemed; and the men pushed
fearlessly into the thicket.
I watched all this with excited feelings. I began to hope there was no
one in the bushes. I listened to every sound; I heard the snapping of
the twigs and the muttering of the men. There was a moment's silence as
they pushed eagerly forward.