[1]Literally, milk from a pall; poison.
[1]Literally, milk from a pall; poison.
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon. The rays of the sun, falling more and more obliquely, were gradually lengthening the shadows of the trees; the birds were flying to their roosts, and nestling as they could under the foliage, with deafening cries and pipings. A few bands of prairie wolves were showing themselves here and there, snuffing the breeze, and preparing for their nocturnal chase among the tall grasses. At intervals, the lofty antlers of elks and antelopes were suddenly rising from amidst the herbage, the animals quickly throwing back their heads, and commencing a giddy flight into the distance. The sun, close on the verge of the horizon, looked like a globe of red fire behind the trunks of the stately trees. Everything announced the rapid approach of night.
In the virgin forest, about two hundred miles from thepresidioof San Lucar, where the last terrible episodes of our story occurred, and in the centre of a vast clearing, two men, habited like the Mexicangambucinos, were sitting on buffalo skulls, beside a clear fire which gave forth no smoke. They were Don Estevan Diaz themayor domo, and Luciano Pedralva thecapataz. They held their rifles across their knees, ready for an emergency, and smoked their maizepajillosin silence. Severalpeonesandarrieroswere lying about a few paces off, and baggage mules were greedily munching the rations of Indian corn laid on mats before them. Eight or ten horses were tethered, to prevent their straying, close to ajacal(hut) of branches, the entrance to which was closed with azarapé. Apeon, standing motionless with cocked rifle on the borders of a little brook which meandered round the extremity of the clearing, watched over the common safety.
It was easy to perceive, from the fragments of all sorts which littered the ground, whence every vestige of grass had disappeared, and from the quarters of venison suspended from the boughs of a mahogany tree, that the encampment we have described was not one of those temporary resting places which the backwoodsmen choose for a night and quit at sunrise, but one of those more substantial camps which the hunters often establish as places of rendezvous for the trapping season.
Thezarapéat the entrance to thejacalwas lifted, and Don Pedro made his appearance on the scene. His features were pale, his expression was sad and pensive. He looked carefully around, went up to the two men seated by the fire, and spoke: "No news as yet?"
"None whatever," replied Don Estevan.
"This absence is incomprehensible; Don Fernando has never before stayed away from us so long."
"True," said thecapataz;"it is more than thirty hours since he left us. Pray God, no misfortune may have happened."
"No," answered Don Estevan; "Don Fernando is too well acquainted with the desert to incur much danger."
"But think whereabouts we are," put in Don Pedro; "the country round about is infested by the most dangerous serpents; wild beasts swarm in every place."
"What does that matter, Don Pedro?" boldly answered Don Estevan; "You forget that Don Fernando and Stoneheart are one and the same; that in this region the greater part of his life was spent; that it is here, for long years, he was a bee-hunter, and gathered the cascarilla bark."
"But how do you explain his protracted absence?"
"You recollect, Don Pedro, with what disinterestedness our friend offered us his cooperation when, in despair at the sudden disappearance of Doña Hermosa, mad with grief, and impotent to act, we knew not what step to take to recover the lost one. We have been led from thepresidioto this spot, following a trail invisible to all eyes save Don Fernando's, who, accustomed to reap the sublime lines of the wilderness, recognised it with singular ease and exactitude. The trail has suddenly vanished here—vanished in spite of the most minute and patient research. We have been eight days encamped in this place; and every morning, at sunrise, Don Fernando—whom obstacles seem to excite, rather than subdue—mounts and begins his search afresh. Hitherto his labour has been in vain. Yesterday he left us, as usual, at daybreak. Well, suppose the reason of his protracted absence, which makes you so restless, should be the finding, at some spot leagues away perchance, the signs we have sought for so long and unavailing?"
"God grant it, my good friend! Your idea glads my heart. But what traces could we find, after the painful exertions we have already made?"
"You forget, Don Pedro, that we have to deal with the Apaches, the most astute savages in the wilderness, the most acute of all the redskins in hiding their trail."
"Holloa!" exclaimed thecapataz;"I hear the tread of a horse."
"Is it possible?" said Don Pedro joyfully.
"Yes," said Don Estevan; "I, too, hear a noise, but it is not the sound of one horse; there are two or three."
"Yet Don Fernando left the camp alone."
"He has probably encountered someone on the road," replied Don Estevan, laughing.
"You are wrong to joke with us in our circumstances; it is almost an insult to my sorrow."
"Heaven preserve me from such an intention, Don Pedro! The sound is coming nearer. We shall soon see what we have to do. I should not be at all surprised if Don Fernando has laid hands upon some Indian marauder, at the very moment when, concealed by the underwood, he was watching our camp, and spying out our movements."
"¡Canarios!It is he himself!" cried thecapataz.
In fact, the clear and sonorous voice of Don Fernando replied to the challenge of the sentry, and two horsemen pushed through the thick underwood which surrounded the clearing and formed a kind of natural rampart.
Don Fernando brought with him a man whom he had firmly bound to a horse to prevent his escape. As to the prisoner, he seemed to bear his capture lightly. He swayed himself comfortably in his saddle, comported himself with an air of assurance, and looked altogether as impudent as possible. On reaching the fire, where our personages were assembled, he saluted them with a grimace, unabashed by the looks of the standers-by.
He was no other than our friend Tonillo el Zapote, whom we have presented to our readers on several occasions.
Don Fernando was very warmly and heartily greeted. His friends burnt with impatience to question him; and their curiosity was the more excited, as the frank and almost joyful expression of his features led them to suppose he was the bearer of good news. Don Fernando dismounted, embraced his friends, and unbuckled the girth which strapped the prisoner's legs under the belly of his horse, thus giving him the use of his limbs.
"Good," said thevaquero, "many thanks, Don Fernando. I have had quite enough of it. My legs are tingling as if a million of pins were stuck in them." He sprang to the ground; but he had spoken truly; his benumbed limbs could not support the weight of his body, and he fell heavily. Thecapatazhastened to raise him. "It is a mere nothing," said thevaquero, honouring him with a gracious smile; "yet I thank you, caballero. In five minutes the circulation will be restored, and no harm done. But if it is the same to you, Don Fernando, pray do not pull the buckle so tight another time."
"It will depend upon yourself, Zapote. Swear you will make no attempt at escape, and I will set you free."
"If that is all," cried thevaquero, gaily, "we shall soon strike a bargain. I swear, by all my hopes of Paradise, not to slip away."
"Enough! I will trust you."
"An honest man sticks to his word," answered El Zapote; "you will have no cause of complaint against me. I am the bond-slave of my word."
"It will be all the better for you if that is the truth. But I am doubtful about it, particularly after your late conduct towards me, in spite of the protestations and offers of service you made me."
Thevaqueroshowed no signs of embarrassment at this straightforward thrust. "Men endowed with certain good qualities are sure to be misunderstood," he replied in a wheedling tone; "I never broke the promise I made you."
"Not when, after introducing Indians and other rascals of your own kind into thepresidio, you laid an infamous snare for me, and led me into an ambuscade?"
"Yes, Señor Don Fernando; I was faithful even under the circumstances you mention."
"¡Rayo de Dios!" impatiently exclaimed the latter; "I should be glad to learn how you can prove your fidelity there."
"Good Heavens, señor! I was faithful after my own fashion."
This answer was so extraordinary and unexpected, that the bystanders could not refrain from laughing. El Zapote bowed gravely, with the proud humility common to men of doubtful talent, who in their inmost soul consider themselves unappreciated geniuses.
"After all," said Don Fernando, carelessly shrugging his shoulders, "we shall soon see. I know pretty well the extent of this elastic fidelity."
El Zapote returned no answer; he merely raised his eyes to heaven, as if to invoke it as a witness of the injustice done to him, and crossed his arms on his breast.
"Before telling you anything, let me have something to eat," said Don Fernando, "I am fainting from inanition; I have neither eaten or drank since I left the camp."
Don Estevan hastened to place provisions before him, to which he and his prisoner did great honour. However, the meal was short. Don Fernando's appetite was soon appeased; he gave a sigh of satisfaction, after slaking his thirst in the limpid brook, came and sat down beside the others, and, without putting their curiosity to further torture, began to explain the causes of his prolonged absence in all their details. Don Estevan had judged correctly; Don Fernando had really discovered the trail so long fruitlessly sought for. The trail took a south-west direction, towards the most unexplored regions of the Far West. He had followed it with a trapper's indomitable patience for several hours, in order to be well assured that it was the true trail, and not an Indian artifice to turn his steps astray.
The redskins, when they fear pursuit, and cannot hide their trail, entangle so skilfully the many tracks they purposely make, and throw them all into such hopeless confusion, that it is generally impossible to distinguish the right one. On this occasion they had used a similar artifice with such dexterity and success, that they would have managed to outwit and lead astray any hunter less adroit than Stoneheart. But he, accustomed from childhood to their wiles, did not suffer himself to be hoodwinked, particularly as he thought he had recognised some peculiar signs, which would have escaped the observation of a less experienced woodman. Don Fernando, delighted with his discovery, had rapidly commenced his return to the camp, without neglecting any of the prudential measures requisite in a country where every bush may conceal a foe, when it struck him that the grass in a certain spot was waving in a manner not wholly natural. He dropped quietly from his horse, and, without other arms than the knife he carried in an iron ring at his girdle, and a pistol, crept towards the suspected spot, crawling on hands and knees with the speed and silence of a snake gliding through grass.
After a quarter of an hour's work, he reached the place, and with difficulty repressed a cry of joy on seeing El Zapote comfortably seated on the ground, the bridle of his horse passed over his left arm, and finishing a copious meal.
Don Fernando drew a few paces nearer, in order to be sure of his man; then, having carefully measured the distance, with a spring like a jaguar he seized thevaqueroby the throat, and had him bound beyond the possibility of resistance before El Zapote had recovered from his astonishment. "Aha!" said he, seating himself beside his prisoner, "what a singular chance! How are you, Zapote?"
"You are very kind, caballero; I cough a little." And he put his hand to his threat.
"Poor fellow! I hope it is of no consequence."
"I hope, too, that no evil consequences may ensue, señor; nevertheless, I am not quite easy about it."
"Pooh! Cast aside your anxiety. I will cure you."
"Do you know a remedy, caballero?"
"Yes; an excellent one, which I propose to apply to you."
"A thousand thanks, señor! But perhaps that would give you too much trouble?"
"None in the world. Judge for yourself. I propose to knock out your brains with the butt end of a pistol."
Thevaqueroshuddered when the words were uttered; but he would not give in. "You really think that remedy would cure me?" said he.
"Radically, I am convinced."
"It may seem very odd, caballero; but, with all due deference, I am obliged to observe, that I am of a totally different opinion."
"You are wrong," replied Don Fernando, coolly cocking a pistol; "you will soon find how efficacious it is."
"And you really think, señor, there is no other remedy?"
"By my faith, I see no other."
"But it seems to me a little too violent."
"You only think so. I tell you again, you are Wrong."
"Possibly so. I would not take the liberty of contradicting you, caballero. Have you any great wish to administer the remedy on this particular spot?"
"I? Not at all! Do you know any more fitting place?"
"I think I do, señor."
"And whereabouts is the place, comrade?"
"Good heavens! caballero, I may be mistaken; but still, I think it would be a pity so marvellous a secret as this remedy should be lost, for want of an eyewitness to its efficacy. Consequently, I wish you to take me where we can find one."
"Very well! I suppose you know of such a place, not very far hence?"
"Yes, caballero; I even fancy you would be charmed to see those to whom I wish to present you."
"That depends upon who they are."
"You know them very well, señor: one of them is the Tigercat—a most amiable caballero."
"And you will undertake to lead me to him?"
"Whenever you please: this very instant if you like."
Don Fernando replaced the pistol in his belt. "Not directly. No," he said; "we must first report ourselves at the camp, where my friends expect me. I find you are not quite so ill as I thought; and I need not administer my remedy just now. We can always fall back upon it some other time, if it is necessary."
"I can assure you, there is no hurry at all," replied thevaquero, trying an engaging smile.
Thus the business was concluded between the two men, who, knowing each other for a long time were perfectly aware of what each could expect from the other. Don Fernando put no faith in Tonillo; so he took good care to remove all temptation to stray from his side, by leaving him bound as he was—a proceeding against which thevaquerodid not remonstrate.
But as night had fallen while they were talking, they made such arrangements as they could for sleeping where they were, giving up all idea of rejoining the camp until the morrow. Two or three times in the course of the night thevaquerosurreptitiously tried to free himself from the bonds in which he lay; but each time he endeavoured to put his project into execution, he saw the large blue eyes of the hunter fixed steadfastly upon him.
"Do you still feel indisposed?" he asked, the last time the prisoner made his attempt.
"Not at all!" replied thevaquerohastily; "Not at all."
"I am glad to hear it; but," added he slowly, and emphatically, "your inability to sleep made me anxious about you."
Thevaquerotook the hint, shut his eyes without another word, and did not open them again till daylight.
Don Fernando was already alert, and had saddled the horses. "Aha! Awake at last?" said he.
"Have you slept well?"
"Capitally; only I feel a little numb. Gentle exercise would soon restore the circulation."
"The effects of the dew," said the hunter imperturbably; "the nights are cold."
"The devil!" said thevaquero, grinning. "I hope I shall not catch the rheumatism."
"I think not. The ride will do you good."
While he said this, Don Fernando had hoisted his companion on his shoulders, and thrown him across one of the horses. But on second thoughts, he freed his legs, and set him upright in the saddle; reflecting that useless cruelty would only harden the man against him, who could give such precious information when the proper moment arrived. Thevaquero, who feared he was about to make the journey slung over the horse like a bale of merchandise, felt grateful for the half-liberty allowed him, and made no objection when Don Fernando took the precaution of buckling his legs together under his horse's belly.
In this manner the two men rode to the camp, talking on different matters, and apparently the best friends in the world.
All the time Don Fernando was telling his story, El Zapote had assumed thenonchalantattitude of a man perfectly satisfied with himself; nodding his head affirmatively at certain passages, and smiling at others with an air of modest gratification. When the former ceased speaking, he thought it time to put in his word also.
"You see, señores, I made no objection whatever to following this estimable caballero; which means to say, that I am ready to obey all commands you may please to lay on me."
"Here is a compliment," said Don Fernando, with a malicious smile, "which would evidently have been addressed to others, but for the surprise of yesterday!"
"Oh, fie, caballero!" retorted thevaquero, assuming a look of indignant denial.
"But," continued Stoneheart, "I will not vex you on that score; your secret feelings towards me affect me in nowise. I thought I had given you ample proof a long while ago how little I dread you in any way. I will content myself with remarking, that, more generous than you, I have several times held your life in my hands, and never abused the power."
"On that account I am deeply grateful to you, señor."
"Pooh, pooh, Señor Zapote!" replied Stoneheart, shrugging his shoulders; "You have quite mistaken your man. I have no more belief in your gratitude than in your good feelings towards me, and I have only refreshed your memory in this respect to induce you to reflect that, if I have hitherto condescended to pardon you, the amount of courtesy I could afford to expend on you is at length exhausted, and on the next occasion matters will end very differently between us."
"I perfectly understand your meaning, señor; but, please God, such an occasion, I am quite sure, will never present itself. I repeat, once for all, that I have given you my word, and, you know, an honest man sticks—"
"No more!" broke in Stoneheart. "I wish it may be so, for your own sake. However that may be, listen attentively."
"I am all ears, señor; I will not lose a word."
"Although I am still young, Señor Tonillo, I know one important truth not very creditable to humanity. If one wishes to attract a man, and insure his fidelity, one must not attempt to act upon his virtues, but make sure of him through his vices. You are more richly endowed with these last than most men I know."
Thevaqueromade a modest bow in acknowledgment of the compliment. "Señor," he said, "you cover me with confusion; such praise—"
"Is richly deserved," continued Stoneheart. "I have seen few men in possession of such a formidable assortment of vices as you, my friend. Yours are so many, that I was at a loss which to select. But among these vices are a few more prominent than the rest: for instance, your avarice has acquired a prodigious development; I am going to appeal to your avarice."
Thevaquero'seyes sparkled with greed. "What do you want me to do?" said he.
"First, let me tell you what I will give you; after that, I will explain what I require."
The leering, cunning face of the bandit instantly grew serious; and, leaning his elbows on his knees, he stretched out his head to listen to Stoneheart's words.
"You know I am rich, and can have no doubt that I am able to fulfil any engagement with you into which I may enter. However, to save time, and deprive you of any pretext to betray me, I will immediately place in your hands three diamonds, each worth two thousand five hundred piastres You are so well acquainted with precious stones, that a single glance will convince you of their value. These diamonds are yours. I make you a present of them. Nevertheless, if you prefer it, I engage to pay you what they are worth; that is to say, to forward seven thousand five hundred piastres on your first demand, after our return to San Lucar, in exchange for the jewels."
"And you have got the diamonds about you?" said thevaquero, in a voice half stifled with emotion.
"Here they are!" replied Stoneheart, drawing from his bosom a small deerskin bag, and taking out three good-sized jewels, which he placed in thevaquero'shands.
The latter clutched them with a glee he did not attempt to conceal, looked at them for a moment with eyes sparkling with triumph, and hid them carefully in his bosom.
"Wait a moment!" said Stoneheart, with a curious smile; "I have not yet told you the conditions."
"Whatever they may be, I accept them, señor.¡Caspita!seven thousand five hundred piastres! It is a fortune to a poor devil like me! Nonavajadawill ever bring me in as much, however well they pay me!"
"Then you want no time for consideration?"
"¡Canarios!I should think not! Whom am I to kill?"
"No one," briefly answered Stoneheart. "Listen to me: all you have to do is to lead me to the place where the Tigercat has taken refuge."
Thevaqueroshook his head discontentedly at this proposal. "I cannot do it, caballero. By all my hopes hereafter, it is impossible!"
"Very well," said Stoneheart. "I forgot to mention another little thing."
"What is it, señor?" asked thevaquero, in great trouble at the turn the conversation was taking.
"A very trifling matter. If you do not accept my proposal, I will instantly blow out your brains."
El Zapote examined the speaker's face most carefully; with a rascal's intuitive perception, he felt that the time for pleasantry was over, and matters were threatening to become serious. "At least give me leave to explain, señor," said he.
"I ask no better," said Stoneheart coldly. "I am in no hurry."
"I cannot lead you to the Tigercat's hiding place—I swear so; but I can direct you to it, and tell you its name."
"That is something. Go on; we have already made some progress. I see we shall come to an understanding. I am in despair at finding myself obliged to use extreme measures; it is so disagreeable."
"Unhappily, señor, I have told you all. This is what happened: the Tigercat, after his flight from thepresidio, collected some score of resolute men, of whom I was one, who comprehended that for some time to come the Mexican Confederation would be too hot to hold them, and resolved to plunge into the wilderness, in order to give the storm time to blow over. All went well for a little while, when the Tigercat suddenly changed his route; and, instead of leading us to overrun the country of the Apaches, took us to the district of the bee-hunters and cascarilla gatherers."
"He has done that?" exclaimed Stoneheart, starting with surprise and terror.
"Yes, señor. You can understand how little I cared for a game of life and death, in regions infested by the fiercest beasts of prey, and, worse than that, by serpents whose bite is mortal. Seeing that the Tigercat was seriously bent upon taking refuge in this horrible country, I confess, señor, I got terribly frightened; and at the risk of dying with hunger, or being scalped by the redskins in the desert, I quietly dropped to the rear, and profited by the first opportunity to give the Tigercat the slip."
Stoneheart fixed on thevaqueroa gaze which seemed to search his inmost soul; the latter bore it manfully.
"It is well," he said, "I see you have not lied. How long is it since you left the Tigercat?"
"Only four days, señor. As I do not know this part of the wilderness, I was wandering about at a venture, when I had the good fortune to fall in with you."
"Indeed! Now, what is the name of the place to which the Tigercat intended to lead you?"
"El Voladero de las Ánimas," answered thevaquero, without hesitation.
Stoneheart instantly grew pale as death at this information; and yet he had almost expected it, from the cruel and implacable character of his former teacher.
"Alas!" cried he; "The unfortunate girl is lost! This wretch has carried her into a very nest of serpents!"
The bystanders were dreadfully agitated.
"What is this horrible place?" said Don Pedro.
"Alas! El Voladero de las Ánimas is an accursed region, into which the hardiest bee-hunters and boldestcascarillerosscarcely dare to enter. The Voladero is a lofty mountain, which frowns over an immense expanse of swamps swarming with cobras, coral snakes, and others, whose slightest bite kills the strongest man in ten minutes. For ten leagues around this dread mountain, the country is alive with reptiles and venomous insects, against which how shall man defend himself!"
"Great God!" cried Don Pedro, in despair; "And it is to this hell they have carried my darling child!"
"Calm yourself," said Stoneheart, who perceived the necessity of restoring a little courage to the poor father; "the Tigercat knows this accursed place too well to enter it without taking the needful precautions. The swamps alone are to be dreaded; the Voladero is free from these noxious animals; the air is too pure, and its elevation too great for them to live there. Not one attempts to scale it. Courage, then! If your daughter, as I hope, has reached the Voladero alive, she is in safety."
"But, alas!" replied Don Pedro, "How are we to cross this impassable barrier; how reach my daughter, without encountering certain death?"
An indefinable smile illumined the features of Don Fernando. "I will reach her, Don Pedro," he exclaimed, in firm and resolute tones. "Have you forgotten that I am Stoneheart, the most renowned bee-hunter of the prairies? The Tigercat confided all his secrets to me when we were not only bee-hunters butcascarilleros. Courage, I say; all is not yet lost."
If a man who is struck down with some dire and and unexpected calamity has a friend beside him, whose stout heart and cheering words bid him hope, his prostrate courage revives, however faint and problematical the hope may be, and, confiding in the prospect held out to him, he gathers fresh energy for the approaching struggle. This was exactly what happened to Don Pedro. The speech of Stoneheart, who, for weeks past, had worked hard for him,—whom he had learned to love, and in whom he had entire confidence,—revived his hope and courage as if by magic.
"And now," said Stoneheart, addressing thevaquero, "tell me how the Tigercat treated his prisoners. You remained with him long enough to give me reliable information on this point."
"As far as that goes, señor, I can answer without hesitation, that his attention to the señorita's welfare was unceasing; he watched over her with anxious care, often shortening the day's march for fear of overtiring her."
His hearers breathed more freely. This solicitude on the part of one who respected neither God nor man seemed to indicate better intentions than they had a right to expect.
Stoneheart continued his interrogations. "Do you know the nature of the Tigercat's conversations with Doña Hermosa?"
"I overheard one, señor. The poor señorita was very sad: she dared not weep openly, for fear of offending the chief; but her eyes were always filled with tears, and her breast heaved with stifled sobs. One day, during a halt, she was sitting apart at the foot of a tree, her eyes fixed on the road we had just travelled, and large tears coursing down her cheeks. The Tigercat advanced towards her, looked at her for a moment with mingled pity and displeasure, and addressed her in nearly the following words: 'Child, it is useless to look back; those you expect will not come. No one shall tear you from my hands till the time comes when I shall think fit to restore you to freedom. To you alone I owe the ruin of my projects, and the massacre of my friends at San Lucar. I know it well. Therefore I carried you off, for vengeance' sake. But this I will tell you, for your consolation and encouragement: my revenge shall not be harsh; within a month I will give you to him you love.' The señorita looked at him incredulously; he perceived it, and continued, in a tone of implacable malice: 'My most earnest wish is to see you some day the bride of Don Fernando Carril: I have never lost sight of this. Take courage, then; dry those useless tears, which only disfigure you,—for I swear to you I will carry out my resolve, the very day and hour I have appointed.' Having said this, he left her, without waiting for the answer Doña Hermosa was about to make. I happened to be lying on the grass, a few paces from the lady. The Tigercat either did not notice me, or thought me asleep. That is how I overheard their conversation. To the best of my belief, that is the only time the chief ever conversed with his prisoner, although he continued to treat her well."
When thevaqueroceased, a long silence ensued, caused by the strangeness of this revelation. Stoneheart racked his brains in vain endeavours to discover a motive for the Tigercat's conduct. He recalled the words the chief had once uttered in his presence,—words which agreed with what he had just heard; for even at that time the old man seemed to take delight in the project. But Stoneheart vainly tried to find a solution to the question, why he should act thus.
In the meanwhile the sun had gone down, and night set in with the rapidity peculiar to intertropical climates, in which there is no twilight. It was one of those delicious nights of Southern America which are replete with sweet odours and airy melody. The dark blue sky was enamelled with a countless number of golden stars. The moon, now at the full, showered down a flood of soft and glorious light; and the transparent atmosphere made distant objects seem close at hand. The night wind tempered the oppressive heat of the day; and the men seated in front of thejacalinhaled with delight the refreshing breeze that whispered among the foliage, surrendering themselves to the influence of the night, which stole upon them with all its seductive languor.
When Don Pedro and his two confidential agents first set out on their search for Doña Hermosa, under the auspices of Stoneheart, Ña Manuela, that devoted pure-hearted woman, refused to leave her master and her son. She had loudly claimed her share in the risks and perils they were about to encounter, asserting her right to accompany them in her quality of Doña Hermosa's nurse. The good woman had persisted so obstinately, that Don Pedro and Don Estevan, touched by her self-abnegation, could no longer resist her entreaties, and she had come with them. Ña Manuela had charge of the commissariat of the camp. As soon as night had completely closed in, she issued from thejacal, bearing refreshments, which she distributed with strict impartiality to all present, master and man. Unseen, the worthy woman had listened to the queries put to thevaquero. Her heart failed her at El Zapote's story; but she dissembled her grief, for fear of augmenting Don Pedro's anguish; and she appeared amongst the travellers with dry eyes and a smiling countenance.
However, time passed on; the hour for rest had come; one after another thepeonesrolled themselves in theirzarapés, and slumbered peacefully, with the exception of the sentries posted to watch over the safety of the camp. Stoneheart, plunged in deep meditation, was reclining, with his head supported by his right arm; his companions now and then exchanged a few words, uttered in a low tone, that they might not disturb him. Thevaquero, with characteristic carelessness, stretched himself out on the ground, indifferent to what was passing around him. His eyelids grew heavy; he was already in a state of semi—somnolence, when he was thoroughly roused to consciousness by Don Fernando, who shook him rudely.
"Holloa, señor! What is the matter?" said he, sitting up, and rubbing his eyes.
"Is it possible to trust you?"
"A question you asked once before, señor. I replied, 'Yes, if you pay me well.' Now, you have paid me royally. There was but one man in the world to whom I could attach myself sooner than to you—Don Torribio Quiroga. He is dead; you take his place. No dog would obey your slightest sign more faithfully than I."
"I am not now going to put your new fledged fidelity to any rude proof; I shall content myself with leaving you here. But remember to deal frankly with me, and without reservation; for as surely as I have not hesitated to pay you in advance in the bargain I have concluded with you, so surely will I not hesitate to kill you on the spot if you betray me. And take this to your soul: if you deceive me, no hiding place, however secret or remote, shall save you from my vengeance."
Thevaquerobent his head, and answered unhesitatingly: "Señor Don Fernando, I swear, by the Cross of our Lord, who died for the remission of our sins, that I will be faithful to you unto the death."
"Good," said Stoneheart; "I believe you, Zapote. Sleep now, if you are able."
Thevaquerodid not wait for a repetition of the words, but rolled over, and was soon fast asleep.
"Señores," said Stoneheart, turning to his friends, "it is time for you to rest. As for me, I must watch a while. Be of good courage, Don Pedro; our position is far from desperate. The more I reflect, the surer I am we shall tear from the Tigercat the prey he holds in his grasp and longs to devour. Be not too anxious; and if you should not see me tomorrow, do not on any pretext leave this encampment till my return: my absence will not be long. Good night to all!" Having said this, Stoneheart crossed his arms on his breast, and returned to his sombre meditations.
His friends, respecting his wish to be alone, withdrew; and ten minutes later all the inmates in the camp, except Stoneheart and the sentinels, were asleep, or seemed to sleep.
Deep silence prevailed through the wilderness, broken only at long intervals by the growling of the jaguar at the spring, or the barking of the prairie dog in his burrow. Stoneheart had not moved after his friends left him; he was so motionless, one would have thought him asleep, but for the occasional glitter of his eye through the darkness. Suddenly a hand was laid on his shoulder. He started up in an instant. Don Estevan stood beside him. Stoneheart greeted him with a smile. "You have something to tell me?" said he.
"I have," replied Don Estevan, seating himself at his side. "I waited till all were asleep before sought you out. You are meditating some daring exploit—perhaps an expedition to the camp of the Tigercat?"
Stoneheart replied by a smile.
"Have I guessed aright?" said themayor domo.
"Perhaps you have, Estevan; but how does that concern you?"
"More than you think, Fernando. Such an expedition is as dangerous as can be imagined; you yourself said so. I will not let you commit so great a folly as to attempt it alone. Remember that, from our first meeting, we have been irresistibly attracted to each other; we are bound together by ties of friendship which nothing can sever. Everything ought to be in common between us. Who can tell the danger to which you would be exposed in the expedition you are about to undertake! This is what I have come to tell you: half of that danger is mine; I come to claim the share you have no right to withhold from me."
"Brother," replied Stoneheart, much moved, "I feared this would happen; I dreaded the demand you have just made. Alas! You have guessed truly; the expedition is indeed desperate, and who can say whether I shall succeed? But why link yourself to my evil fate? Has not my whole life been one long sorrow? It will make me happy to sacrifice it for the poor father, pining for the child who has been torn from him. Every man has a destiny in this world; mine is to be wretched. Let me fulfil it. Your destiny smiles upon you; you have a mother whom you cherish, and who adores you. I am alone. If I perish, none save yourself will regret me. Should you fall by my side, you leave me a lifelong sorrow for having caused your death. No length of life could obliterate my remorse."
"Fernando, my determination is irrevocable. Whatever you may say, I shall follow you. Fidelity is an heirloom in our family; and I must do this day what my father did not hesitate to do long ago for the family to whom we are attached. I repeat once more, Fernando, my duty compels me to be with you."
"Think no more of it, Estevan; think of your mother, and her grief."
"I think of nothing but what honour bids me."
"Estevan, I cannot consent to what you wish. Again I say, think of your mother's grief if she should lose you."
"My mother, Fernando, would be the first to bid me go, were she here."
"Spoken like a man!" said a gentle voice behind them. They turned, and saw Ña Manuela. "I have heard all," she said. "Thanks, Don Fernando, for speaking as you did; I will never forget your words. But Estevan is right: duty compels him to follow you. You lose your time in trying to dissuade him. He springs from a race who never tamper with their duty. Let him go with you. If he falls, I shall weep,—perhaps I shall die; but I shall die blessing him, for he will fall in the service of those whom, through five generations, we have sworn to serve faithfully."
Stoneheart gazed with admiration at the mother who did not hesitate to sacrifice her son to her sense of duty, regardless of the boundless love she bore him. He felt himself a weakling, compared with this self-denial. Words failed him, and he could only manifest by signs his acquiescence in a wish so energetically expressed.
"Go, my sons," she continued, raising her eyes to heaven with an expression of holy fervour; "God, who sees all, sees your devotedness. He will reward you. The rule of the wicked on earth is short; the protection of the Almighty will be with you—will defend you in every danger. Go without fear; He tells me you will prosper in your undertaking. Farewell!"
"Farewell, mother," replied the two men, moved even to tears.
The noble woman pressed them to her heart, but could not part from them without an effort. "Remember this law," she said,—"it is the basis of honour: do your duty, whatever may happen. Farewell, farewell!" She turned, and hastily entered thejacalfor, in spite of herself, tears were regaining the mastery, and she would weaken their resolution. The others were silent for a time, looking steadfastly at thejacal.
"You see," said Don Estevan, at last, "my mother herself orders me to follow you."
"Be it as you will, then," said Stoneheart, with a sigh; "I will no longer oppose your wishes."
"Thank Heaven!" exclaimed themayor domo.
Stoneheart carefully examined the heavens. "It is two o'clock," he said; "at half past three it will be daylight. We must go."
Don Estevan left him, to bring up the horses. They were soon saddled. The men left the camp, gave their horses the spur, and dashed into the desert. By sunrise they had ridden six leagues. They were following the course of one of those nameless rivers which traverse the wilderness in every direction, and ultimately fall into some larger stream.
"Let us halt here a while," said Stoneheart; "first to breathe our horses, and then to take a few precautions indispensable to our success."
Dismounting, they took the bits from the horses' mouths, leaving them at liberty to crop the luxuriant grass on the banks of the river.
"The time has come, Estevan," said Don Fernando, "when I must teach you something, without which it would be impossible to avoid the dangers we are about to encounter; I must reveal a secret known only to us, 'the bee-hunters.' Hardly two leagues farther on, we shall have to enter the swamps, swarming with serpents, and we must take the requisite precautions against their fatal bite, for every reptile we shall meet on the road will be of the most venomous species."
"The devil!" ejaculated Don Estevan, turning somewhat pale.
"I will give you a lesson. When we have once put on our armour, we can trample with impunity on the heads of the most dangerous."
"¡Caray!" replied Don Estevan; "your secret is worth knowing."
"You shall prove it soon. Come with me. Of course you are acquainted with theguaco?"
"Certainly. I have often helped it in his battles with snakes."
"Very well. I dare say you are ignorant of the means this intelligent bird employs to heal the wounds in the mortal combats which always terminate in the destruction of the reptile?"
"I confess, Fernando, that I have never attempted to fathom the mystery."
"Then it is lucky, Estevan, that I have thought for both. Come, close at hand I see several stems of themikaniatwisting round the cork trees: That is what we want. We will take a supply of the leaves of the guaco creeper."
Don Estevan, without troubling his head concerning his friend's intentions, set about collecting the leaves of the creeper he had pointed out. By dint of exertion, a goodly number were soon heaped upon the ground. When Stoneheart deemed the quantity sufficient, he gathered them up in hiszarapé, and returned to the spot where they had left their horses. Without further explanation, he began to pound the leaves on a flat stone he brought from the edge of the water. Don Estevan, taking great interest in the mysterious operation, occupied himself in collecting in acoui(or gourd) the juice which ran from the leaves as Stoneheart crushed them. The work lasted an hour, by which time thecouiwas filled to the brim with a greenish liquid.
"What are we to do now?" said Don Estevan, puzzled more and more.
"That is a delicate question, my friend," replied Stoneheart, with a laugh. "We must undress; then, with the point of thenavaja, we will make longitudinal incisions in our breasts, our arms, thighs, and between the fingers and toes, just deep enough to cause blood to flow. Afterwards, we will carefully inject the liquid we have collected into these incisions. Have you sufficient courage to inoculate yourself with themikaniajuice?"
"Certainly, Fernando, though the operation will be painful. But what good will it do us?"
"Only the least in the world! We shall be invulnerable. We shall be able to trample thousands of snakes under our feet; and their bites shall do us no more harm than the prick of a pin." Stoneheart said no more, but undressed himself, and coolly began to make incisions in his body. Don Estevan followed his example. After slicing themselves in this fashion, they rubbed the cuts with the juice of the creeper, leaving the liquid time to dry in before they resumed their dress.
"Well, that is done," said Stoneheart. "We need not keep our horses: the poor brutes would infallibly perish, for we cannot insure them from the serpents. We will leave them here, and pick them up when we return; only let us hobble them well, for fear they should stray too far."
The saddles were carefully hidden under some bushes, and the two hardy adventurers commenced their journey on foot, trailing their rifles, and holding in one hand a slender but tough twig of mesquite, to cut the reptiles in two which might dispute their passage. They marched rapidly, one behind the other, shaking the grasses on right and left with their rods, to dislodge the snakes, and following a track left by a numerous body of horsemen.
Suddenly they saw a dead body before them horribly swollen and putrified, over which they were obliged to step.
"Ah!" said Stoneheart, "Here lies a poor wretch, who probably did not know the uses of the guaco creeper."
Just at that moment, a sharp hissing was heard, and a beautiful little snake, about as thick as the little finger, and seven or eight inches long, crept from under the corpse, raised itself upon its tail, and, darting with wonderful rapidity, fixed itself on Stoneheart's right leg.
"Your pardon, my good fellow," said he coolly; "you have made a mistake!" and, seizing it by the tail, he swung it round, and crushed its head on the ground. "It is a ribbon snake," he added; "bitten by him, you have just eleven minutes to live. You grow first yellow, then green; then you begin to swell, and all is over—with this exception: you have the consolation of changing colour once more, this time from green to black. It is odd, is it not, Estevan?"
"¡Caray!" replied the latter, who could not help shuddering; "Yours was a lucky thought, Fernando."
"Do you think so, Estevan?"
"By heavens! It is self-evident. Ha! Crush that coral snake coiling round your leg!"
"Why, really, so he is! Well, he is a gentleman who takes liberties!" Saying this, he seized the reptile, and crushed him. "It is a lovely country," he continued. "It is quite diverting to travel here. Halloa! more bodies!—This time a man and horse. They have died together. Poor brute!"
And thus they went on all day. The farther they advanced, the more numerous were the snakes; they met them by threes and fours together. At intervals they found more bodies stretched across their path, proving that they were still on the right trail, and that the Tigercat had left the greater number of his companions on the road. With all their courage, they could not refrain from shuddering at the frightful spectacles they had witnessed in passing through this dreadful place.
Suddenly Stoneheart stopped, bent his body forward, made a sign to his friend to be still, and listened anxiously. "If I am not mistaken," he whispered, "somebody is coming this way."
"Someone!" exclaimed the astonished Estevan. "Impossible!"
"And why so? We are here, and why not others?"
"Quite right: but who can it be?"
"We shall soon see;" and he dragged his companion behind a thick bush, where they crouched for concealment.
"Cock your rifle, Estevan. Who can tell whom we may have to meet?"
Themayor domoobeyed. Both kept motionless, expecting the arrival of the individual, whose steps were now clearly distinguishable.
During the last hour, the path our adventurers were pursuing had gradually begun to rise, with frequent turnings—a sure proof that they were quitting the swamps, and approaching the region which was free from reptiles.
Stoneheart soon saw a shadow thrown across an angle in the path, and immediately afterwards a man appeared. Stoneheart recognised him directly by his tall stature and long white beard. It was the Tigercat. Stoneheart whispered a few words in his companion's ear, and, drawing himself together, bounded at one spring into the middle of the path. The Tigercat showed no surprise at this sudden apparition. "I was coming to look for you," he said calmly, as he halted.
"Then your task is finished," said Stoneheart, "for here I am."
"No, it is not ended; for, while you show yourself in my camp, I shall go to yours."
"You think so?" said Stoneheart, with a mocking laugh.
"Certainly. Do you think to bar my passage?"
"Why not? Is it not mine to settle affairs between us?"
"For my part, I see no reason. You are not looking for me, I suppose?"
"You are wrong, Tigercat! I came here on purpose to seek you."
"Me, and another person."
"You, first of all; for we have a long account to settle."
"We are losing time," said the Tigercat impatiently. "Listen, and try to understand me. Doña Hermosa is close by; she expects you, for I have promised to bring you together. She has charged me with certain messages to her father; and on that account I must go to your camp. But first, I will lead you to mine—a sad one: of all my followers, but four are left; the rest are dead."
"I know; I saw their bodies on the road. It is you who have slain them. Why did you lead them here?"
"Never mind. What is done cannot be undone. But time presses; will you follow me? I wish to deal openly with you."
"No! I do not trust you. Why have you come into this fearful place?"
"Did you not guess, my son? Merely to be sure that my prisoner was safe."
"You made a mistake, for I am here."
"Perhaps I did. But enough of this. Here, take my rifle. Tell your friend, the barrel of whose rifle I see gleaming through the branches, to come from behind his bush. Perchance you will not be afraid to follow me now, when I am unarmed, and you two to one."
Stoneheart reflected for a moment, and then said: "Come forth, Estevan!"
His friend was at his side in a moment.
"Keep your rifle," said Stoneheart to the Tigercat; "no one must travel in the wilderness without weapons."
"Thanks, Fernando," replied the old chief; "I see you have not forgotten the old rule: a backwoodsman never quits his rifle."
The Tigercat turned and led the way to his camp, the two others following exactly in his footsteps. In about an hour they reached it, pitched halfway up the Voladero, in a spacious cavern. The chief had told the truth—only four out of all his men survived.
"Before going farther," he said, when they got there, "I have a condition to exact."
"To exact!" said Stoneheart ironically, emphasizing the words.
The Tigercat shrugged his shoulders. "At a sign from me, those men will stab Doña Hermosa to the heart without hesitation; you see, I have the power to exact."
"Speak, then," said Stoneheart, trembling for her sake.
"I will leave you here alone with Doña Hermosa. I, your friend, and my four comrades, will leave the Voladero at once. In two days, and not before, you will quit the mountain, and come to your camp, where you will find me."
"Why do you impose this condition?"
"You have nothing to do with that: is it so hard, that you will not submit to it? But, briefly, I do not choose to explain; answer—yes or no. Except on this condition you shall not see Doña Hermosa."
"How do I know whether she is still alive?"
"What good would it have done me to kill her?"
Stoneheart hesitated for a moment. "I accept the conditions," said he at last; "I will stay here two days."
"Good! Now go to her; as for us we will leave you."
"One instant longer! My friend—will you be answerable for his safety? I know I can trust your word."
"I swear to you, I will look upon him as my own friend as long as he remains with me, and you shall find him safe and sound in the camp."
"Enough. Farewell, Estevan; console Don Pedro, and tell him on what conditions his daughter has been restored."
"I will tell them to him myself," said the Tigercat, his mouth contorted with a strange expression.
Stoneheart and Don Estevan bade each other farewell; then the former rapidly approached the cavern, while the Tigercat, his four followers, and themayor domo, went down the path into the plains. On reaching the nearest trees, the Tigercat halted for a moment, and turned to the cavern into which Stoneheart had just entered. "Aha!" he exclaimed, with a sinister smile, and rubbing his hands with delight; "At last I am sure of my revenge!"
He followed his companion, and they were soon lost to sight, behind the intervening foliage.
We have already said that Don Fernando Carril, or Stoneheart, had passed the greater part of his life in the wilderness. Brought up by the Tigercat in the perilous calling of a bee-hunter, chance had occasionally brought him, most unwillingly we confess, to the district in which he now found himself. Thus he was well acquainted with the Voladero de las Ánimas, even to its inmost recesses. He had often sought shelter in the cavern where Doña Hermosa was now a prisoner, and found it again without difficulty, although the access to it was so well masked by certain features of the mountain, that any other would have been some time in discovering it. The cavern, one of the greatest curiosities of this part of the country; contains several chambers, extending far into the hill, and two broad passages, which terminate in two apertures, like gigantic windows, exactly under the peak of the Voladero, where they hang at a height of a thousand feet over the plain; the conformation of the mountain being so singular that, looking down from them, nothing is to be seen but the tops of the trees below.
Stoneheart entered the cavern, which by another remarkable peculiarity, was lighted throughout its whole extent by innumerable fissures in the rock, admitting sufficient daylight to enable objects to be perceived at a distance of twenty or twenty-five paces. He was very restless; the conditions imposed by Tigercat depressed his spirit to a degree he could not shake off. He could not help asking himself why the old chief had insisted on his remaining two days with Doña Hermosa on the mountain before he rejoined the camp. He suspected some treachery in these conditions; but of what kind? That was the riddle he could not solve.
He walked slowly through the cavern, looking right and left in the hope of finding her; and, for more than half an hour, could see no indications of her presence.
The sun was already disappearing below the horizon when Stoneheart had issued from the forest; the cavern, sombre enough in the daytime, was at this hour in almost total darkness; so he retraced his steps, to obtain a light for the purpose of resuming a search which otherwise the obscurity rendered impossible. On reaching the entrance to the cavern, he availed himself of the last gleam of daylight to look about him. Some torches of ocote wood were carefully arranged close to the entrance. Producing flint and steel, he speedily procured a light; and, arming himself with a kindled torch, again made his way into the cave. He traversed several chambers without success: and had begun to suspect that the Tigercat had duped him, when he perceived a faint glimmer at some distance in advance of him, which gradually approached, until its light was sufficient to reveal the form of Doña Hermosa.
She too held a torch in her hand. She was walking with a slow and unsteady step, her head sunk on her breast, in an attitude of poignant sorrow. Doña Hermosa came nearer and nearer, till she was within fifty paces of Stoneheart. Uncertain how to attract her attention, he was on the point of calling to her, when she chanced to raise her head. On seeing a man before her, she stopped, and haughtily demanded: "Why have you entered this corridor? Have you forgotten that your chief has forbidden anyone to enter it and annoy me?"
"Forgive me, señorita," replied Stoneheart gently; "the order was unknown to me."
"Heavens!" cried she; "That voice! Is it a a dream?" She dropped her torch, and hastened to approach Stoneheart, who likewise rushed towards her. "Don Fernando!" she exclaimed; "Don Fernando here, in this horrible den! Great God! what further evil is at hand? Have I not suffered enough yet?"
Overcome by emotion, she lost all consciousness, and sank, fainting, into the arms of Stoneheart. Alarmed at the occurrence, and not knowing how to recall her to her senses, he hurried her back to the entrance to the cavern, hoping that the fresh air might restore her. He placed her carefully on a heap of dry leaves, and left her to herself. Stoneheart was a man whose courage reached the verge of temerity. A hundred times he had looked death in the face with a smile; but when he saw the girl lying before him, her features rigid, and pale as death, he trembled like a child; a cold sweat broke out over his forehead, and tears—the first he had ever shed—rolled down his face.
"My God, my God!" he exclaimed; "I have killed her!"
"Who speaks?" said Doña Hermosa in feeble accents, the current of air rushing into the cave having somewhat revived her. "Do I really hear Don Fernando? Can it be he?"
"It is I; it is indeed I, Hermosa. Collect yourself, and forgive me for causing this sudden fright."
"I am not alarmed," she answered; "on the contrary, your presence relieves me, Don Fernando, if your appearance in this dreadful place augurs no new misfortune."
"Calm yourself, señorita," he said, drawing gently near her; "I am no omen of evil; I bring good tidings."
"Why seek to deceive me, my friend? Are not you too a prisoner of the monster in human shape who has kept me captive so long?" She rose; the colour returned to her cheeks. She extended her hand to Stoneheart, who, kneeling, clasped it in both his own, and covered it with kisses. "Now we shall no longer be alone; we shall suffer together," she said, fixing an earnest look upon him.
"Dearest Hermosa, your sufferings are at an end; I do indeed bring you good tidings."
"What is it you say, Don Fernando? Your words are incomprehensible. How can you talk of good tidings, while we are both in the power of the Tigercat."
"No, señorita; you are no longer in his power."
"Free!" she exclaimed in ecstasy; "Is it possible O my father! My father! I shall see you once more!"
"You shall see him very soon, Hermosa. Your father is not far hence, with all you love—Don Estevan and Ña Manuela."
Doña Hermosa fell on her knees, with an expression on her face impossible to describe. Lifting her clasped hands to heaven, she uttered a long, silent, and fervent prayer.
Stoneheart gazed upon her with reverential admiration. The sudden transition from sorrow and despair to this excess of joy excited him infinitely. He felt intensely happy—happier than he had ever known himself before.
When Doña Hermosa rose from her knees, she had regained her calmness. "And now, Don Fernando," she said in gentle accents, "as we are really free, let us sit down outside the cave. Tell me all that has happened since I was torn away from my father."
They left the cavern, and sat down, side by side, on the green turf, canopied by the night, which hung cool and odorous above them; and Stoneheart began his story. It lasted a long time; for Doña Hermosa frequently interrupted him, to make him repeat details concerning Don Pedro, and night had sped away before the recital ended. "It is your turn, señorita," said Stoneheart, as soon as he had finished. "You have now to relate what has happened to you."
"As for me," she replied, with a charming smile, "the month has passed in sorrowful thoughts of those from whom I was torn. But I must be just enough to confess, that the man who bore me away treated me with respect—nay, on several occasions he sought to console me and alleviate my grief, by holding out hopes of my soon seeing those whom I love so dearly."
"The Tigercat's conduct is incomprehensible," said Stoneheart thoughtfully. "Why did he carry you off, when he has restored you to us again with so little demur?"
"It is strange," said she; "what could his object be? But I am tree! Thank Heaven, I shall see my father again!"
"Tomorrow we will go to him."
Doña Hermosa looked at him in surprise.
"Tomorrow!" she exclaimed; "Why not today? Why not at once?"
"Alas!" said he, "I have sworn not to leave this place until tomorrow! The Tigercat would only restore you to liberty on this condition."
"How singular! Why should that man wish to keep us here?"
"I will tell you the reason!" cried Don Estevan, suddenly appearing before them.
"Estevan!" they exclaimed, rushing towards him.
"What happy chance brings you here?" asked Stoneheart.
"It is no chance, brother. God has permitted me to overhear words spoken by the Tigercat, which have given me as clear an insight into his plans as if he himself had revealed them."
"Explain your words, Estevan?"
"Yesterday, when I left you, Fernando, you turned your steps to the cavern, while we retraced ours to the forest. I know not why, but my heart was heavy, and I felt loth to quit you. I could not help fancying that the Tigercat's urbanity covered some deadly purpose against you. So I went slowly down the hill. I happened to turn when I reached the forest, and saw that the chief had ceased to follow us. He had halted a few paces from me. He was rubbing his hands with ferocious delight; his eyes were earnestly fixed on the cave, and I distinctly heard him utter these words: 'At last I am sure of my revenge!' It was like a sudden gleam of light; the diabolical plan the monster had conceived started forth in all its hideousness. Don Fernando, you remember how we became acquainted?"
"I do, Estevan; the remembrance is too near for me to forget it."
"You recollect your conversation on the island with the Tigercat, which I overheard? The insinuations of the man? The implacable hatred to Don Pedro he openly avowed?"
"I recollect it all, Estevan; but to what does it lead?"
"To this, Fernando: the Tigercat, despairing to reach Don Pedro himself, endeavours to strike him through his daughter. Hence the long-concocted plan in which he has made you an involuntary accomplice. You love Doña Hermosa; you have done everything to save her; he proposes to restore her to you on the simple condition of remaining two days here in her company: do you understand me now?"
"It is frightful!" indignantly exclaimed Stoneheart.
Doña Hermosa covered her face with her hands to conceal her tears.
"Forgive the pain I have caused you," continued Estevan. "I wished to save you from yourselves; and I could only do so by bluntly laying his machinations open before you. The question is now, whence this inveterate hatred to Don Pedro? Satan alone can tell. But let us not mind that; his plans are unmasked; we have nothing to fear from him."
"Thanks, Estevan," said Doña Hermosa, holding out her hand.
"But how were you able to return?" cried Stoneheart.
"Easily enough. I had nothing to do but to tell the Tigercat plainly that I did not choose to travel in his company any longer. Our man was thunderstruck at my deliberate desertion; but found no words to oppose me. As for me, I had nothing more to say, so, at the first turn of the road, I left him."
"It was a capital idea, Estevan, and I thank you heartily. But now, what are we to do? I have given my word."
"Nonsense, Fernando! You must be mad. Are we obliged to keep promises which have only been extorted from us to do us harm? If you take my advice, you will leave this place instantly, to thwart any new plots this man may brew."
"True, true!" cried Doña Hermosa. "Estevan, you are right. We will follow your counsel, and go."
"Let us go," said Stoneheart, "since you wish it. As for me, there is nothing I should like better than to leave this accursed cavern. But how are we to get Doña Hermosa through the forest?"
"In the same way I crossed it before," she said firmly.
"How was that?" cried Estevan.
"On a kind of litter, which ought to be here still. It was carried on men's shoulders. You know, the snakes do not spring very high."
"And we will wrap you in a buffalo hide, so that you will be safe from all danger."
Don Estevan went in search of the litter, and soon found it, while Stoneheart got the buffalo hide ready. All was prepared in a few minutes.
"We have not broken the conditions of the treaty," said Estevan to his friend.
"How so?"
"Did you not agree to meet the chief at the camp today, and not before?"
"I did; and it would have been impossible to do so, had we remained here the stated time."
"Well, who knows whether the Tigercat did not take that into account too?" replied Estevan.
This observation gave our three personages ample food for reflection; and they began their journey without any further attempt at conversation.