Major Barnum was unarmed; he was offering up his life, and would not take his sword, that he might have no pretext for defending himself should a conflict ensue, as would probably be the case.
When he had got within earshot, he halted. As in his former campaign he had often had occasion to confer with the Apaches, he had learnt enough of their language to need no interpreter.
"What do you require, chiefs? Have you crossed the Rio Grande del Norte, and invaded our frontiers, in breach of the peace existing between us?"
He said this in a loud voice, and saluting them with his hat, which he immediately replaced after this act of courtesy.
"Are you the man whom the palefaces call Don José Kalbris?" asked one of the chiefs; "The man to whom they give the title of governor?"
"No; according to our laws, the governor may not quit his post. I am Major Barnum, second in command, deputed to represent him; so you may report to me what brings you hither."
The chiefs conferred together for an instant; then, planting their long lances in the sand, they dashed forward on their horses till beside the major.
The latter, who had never taken his eyes off them, had divined their purpose, but remained motionless, and testified no surprise at seeing them at his side.
The Indians, who had intended by the suddenness of their action to throw off his guard and perhaps intimidate the major, were secretly annoyed at his coolness, which they could not help admiring.
"My father is brave," said the one who was spokesman.
"At my age," replied the veteran, "one does not fear death; one often looks upon it as a blessing."
"My father bears on his head the snows of many winters; he must be one of the wisest chiefs of his nation. The young men listen to him with respect around the council fire."
The major bowed modestly.
"Do not talk of me," he said; "we have met to discuss graver matters. Why have you demanded this interview?"
"Will not my father lead us to the council fire of his nation?" said the warrior in insinuating tones. "Is it proper for greatsachems, renowned warriors, to treat of important affairs on horseback, between two armies ready to come to blows?"
"I understand your meaning, chief; but cannot comply with your desires. When a town is invested, no leader of the enemy can be admitted as flag of truce."
"Does my father fear that we four should take the town?" said the Apache, laughing, but secretly vexed at the abortion of his plan to communicate with the friends he undoubtedly had in the place.
"It is not my custom to fear anything," replied the major; "I tell you a fact of which you were ignorant, that is all. And now, if you wish to use this pretext to break off the interview, you can do so; I have nothing more to do than to go back."
"Oho! My father is hasty for his age. Why break off the interview, when we have not even mentioned the object of it?"
"Speak then, and tell me what brings you here."
Thesachemslooked at each other, and exchanged a few words in a whisper. Then the chief took up the word:
"My father has seen the great army of the Apaches, and the nations their allies?"
"I have," replied the major carelessly.
"And has my father, who is a learned paleface, counted the warriors who compose it?"
"Yes, as far as it was possible."
"Ah! And how many are there, according to my father's counting?"
"Upon my word, chief," replied the major, with an unconcern that was admirably counterfeited, "I must confess that, as for us, we do not care how many of them there are."
"But still," persisted the Indian, "at how many does my father count them?"
"How can I know? Eight or ten thousand I dare say."
The chiefs were astounded at the indifference the major displayed for numbers thrice their force; and the Apache warrior replied:
"And my father is not frightened at the number of warriors united under one chief?"
The wonder of thesachemshad not escaped the major.
"Why should I be frightened? Has not my nation conquered greater numbers?"
"It is possible," said the chief, biting his lips; "but this time you will not conquer."
"Who can tell? Is that what you came to parley about, chief? If so, you might have spared yourself the trouble."
"No; it is not that. Let my father be patient."
"Speak, then, and have done with it. One never knows how to get on with all your Indian circumlocutions."
"The army of the great nations is camped before thepresidioto obtain satisfaction for all the wrongs the palefaces have done the Indians, since they first set foot on the red man's territory."
"What are you talking about? Explain yourself clearly; and, first of all, what is your pretext for thus invading our frontiers, without previously declaring war? Have we broken the treaties we made with you? Have we not always been generous to the Indians who claimed our protection? Answer!"
"Why does my father pretend to be ignorant of our just reasons for war with the palefaces?" replied the Apache, feigning to be discontented with the major's speech. "My father knows that we have for centuries been at war with the Long Knives,[1]who dwell on the other side of the mountains. Why has my father's nation, which assumes to be at peace with us, made treaties with them?"
"Chief, you are only seeking a quarrel; but that does not signify. I would rather you had told me frankly that your wish was to pillage and steal our horses and cattle, than give me a reason without common sense. We should be at war with the Comanches, if you really meant what you say. Therefore, chief, mock me no more, but proceed to facts. What is it you demand?"
The chief burst out laughing.
"My father is cunning," he said. "Listen; thus say the chiefs: 'This land belongs to us: we will have it.' The white ancestors of my father had no right to establish themselves in it."
"That pretext is, at all events, specious; for my ancestors bought this land from one of yoursachems."
"The chiefs in assembly round, the tree of the Master of life have determined to return to the great white chief, without reserve, all the articles formerly given to thesachemin exchange for the land, and to resume the country belonging to them, in which they will no longer have the palefaces."
"Is that all you were deputed to tell me?"
"It is all," said the chief, bending his head.
"And how much time," answered the major, "do the chiefs allow the governor of thepresidioto discuss these proposals?"
"Two hours."
"Very well," said the major coolly. "And if the governor refuses, what will my brothers do?"
"Thesachems," replied the Apache, emphatically, "have determined to resume the ownership of their territory. If the palefaces refuse to restore it, their village shall be burnt, their warriors put to death, their wives and children carried away as slaves."
"Ah!" said the major; "Before you obtain that result, all the whites in thepresidiowill have been killed in its defence. But it is not for me to discuss the matter with you. I will carry your demands to the governor, precisely as you have made them; and tomorrow, at sunrise, you shall have your answer. Hostilities must be suspended until then."
"No; it is for you to stop them. We cannot stay here inactive; so be on your guard."
"Thanks for your frankness, chief," replied the major. "I am happy at meeting an Indian who is not altogether a rascal. Good-bye, till tomorrow."
"Farewell," said the chiefs courteously.
All were struck with admiration at the coolness of the veteran.
The major retired as slowly as he had come, without manifesting apprehension.
The colonel awaited him at the barricade with the greatest anxiety. The long interview had filled him with uneasiness. He had prepared himself to avenge any insult that might be offered to his envoy. When the major reached the barricade, he hastened to join him.
"Well?" said he impatiently.
"They are only seeking to gain time, in order to execute one of their devilries."
"What is the sum of their demands?"
"Their pretensions are absurd, and they know it; for they sneered when they laid them before me. They pretend that thesachemwho ceded the territory to the Spaniards, two hundred years ago, had no right to sell it. They demand that we should surrender it to them in twenty-four hours; if not—then follow the usual threats. Ah!" said the major, with an ironical smile, "I forgot to tell you, colonel, that they pretend to be ready to restore everything thesachemreceived for the land he sold. That is all I am commissioned to report."
The colonel shrugged his shoulders in disdain.
"The demons are mad," said he, "or else they are trying to lull us into security, so as to surprise us the more easily."
"What do you think of doing?" asked the major.
"Redouble my vigilance, my good friend; for I have no doubt we shall soon come to blows with them again. I am specially uneasy about the oldpresidio."
"You go back to the fort; I will take the command of the advanced post. It is most important, in case of a check, that our communication should not be cut off, and that we may be able to retreat into the place without too great loss."
"I will leave you at liberty to act, my dear major; I am sure you will do your best."
The two veterans separated, after shaking hands warmly. The colonel returned to the fort, while the major actively bestirred himself to put the post confided to him in safety against a surprise.
The garrison of the oldpresidioconsisted chiefly ofvaquerosandleperos,—people, we confess, on whose fidelity the major could only moderately rely. But the stout old soldier locked the apprehensions that tormented him up in his heart, and feigned entire confidence in these fellows, whom he more than suspected.
The day passed over quietly enough. The Apaches, buried like moles behind their intrenchments, seemed determined not to quit them. The sentinels watched vigilantly at the barriers and barricades which closed the suburb. The major, reassured by this apparent tranquillity, hoped that the Indians would not assume the offensive before the term proposed for the receipt of the governor's answer; and, overwhelmed with fatigue from the numerous operations he had been obliged to superintend in providing for the defence in its minutest details, he retired to a house close to the barricade, to snatch a few minutes of necessary repose.
Certain of our old acquaintances were amongst the defenders of the suburb: Pablito, El Verado, Tonillo, and Carlocho. The worthyvaqueros, since the appearance of the Indians, had given such undeniable proofs of fidelity, that the major, at their request, and as a reward for their good conduct, had confided to them the most advanced barricade, which was, in fact, the key of the suburb.
A few minutes after sunset, these four men were together at the foot of the barricade, and talking in whispers. A dozen more rascals of their own stamp, grouped a few paces off were evidently awaiting the result of their mysterious council.
At last they rose, and their colloquy terminated.
"Well, then," said Carlocho, by way of wind-up, "it is settled for ten o'clock?"
"For ten o'clock," peremptorily replied El Zapote; "a man can only stick to his word. We have been nobly paid, and must fulfil our promise, especially as we have received half the amount."
"True," said the others, thoroughly convinced; "the loss would be too great."
"I should think so!" exclaimed El Zapote; "Only think,queridos(my boys); five-and-twenty ounces a piece!"
The bandits grinned like hyenas which scent a corpse, and their eyes glistened with greed.
The major, lying half upright on abutaca, slept the restless sleep of a man whose mind is preoccupied by affairs of great moment; when all of a sudden he felt himself rudely shaken, and a voice, half unintelligible from emotion, shouted into his ears:
"Rise, major, rise! We are betrayed! Thevaqueroshave given up the barricade to the Apaches, and the Indians are in the place."
The officer bounded to his feet, seized his sword, and rushed out of doors without answering, followed by the man—a Mexican soldier—who had so rudely awakened him.
At a single glance, the major recognised the truth of the disastrous news reported to him. El Zapote and his comrades had not only surrendered the barrier to the Apaches, but had even joined them, followed by the few wretches we mentioned above.
The situation was very critical. The Mexicans, disheartened by the shameful defection of thevaqueros, fought without energy or order, dreading further treachery, and on that account not daring to make good head against the enemy.
The Apaches and thevaqueroshowled like demons, and charged furiously on the demoralised defenders of thepresidio, whom they slaughtered pitilessly.
It was a horrid spectacle to witness, this homicidal strife, illumined by the lurid reflection of the houses fired by the Indians to light up their victory. The war whoop of the Apaches mingled with the cries of agony of the Mexicans they were massacring and the awful roaring of the flames, fanned by the frequent squalls.
The major threw himself resolutely into the thickest of the fight, calling the garrison around him, and exciting them by voice and gesture, to a desperate resistance.
The appearance of the commandant of thepresidioproduced an electrical effect on the Mexicans. Animated by his example, they formed around him, and replied by a well-directed fire to the attacks of their ferocious foes.
Thevaqueros, brought to a stand by the point of the bayonet, ignominiously fled, pursued by a shower of balls.
Thanks to the energetic action of the major, the fight was fairly renewed; but Barnum was a soldier of too much experience to allow himself to be deceived by a factitious success. He felt that any attempt to hold the suburb would be madness; he therefore only thought how to make good his retreat in the best possible order, and to bring off the women and children.
Calling his boldest and most resolute men about him, he formed them into a body to hold the Indians in check, while the non-combatants embarked and crossed the river. The Apaches perceived big project, and doubled their efforts to hinder its execution.
Themêléegrew still more frightful. A desperate hand-to-hand combat ensued between whites and redskins; the former fighting for the safety of their families, the latter in the hope of an immense booty.
But the Mexicans, encouraged by the heroic devotion of their commander, only retreated step by step, resisting with the energy of that despair which performs prodigies, and in desperate circumstances trebles the strength of man.
This handful of brave men, scarcely numbering a hundred and fifty, kept in check for three hours, and without allowing themselves to be broken, nearly two thousand Indians, falling one after the other at their allotted posts, in order to save their wives and children.
At last the final boats full of wounded and non-combatants quitted the suburb; the Mexicans uttered a shout of joy, charged the Apaches once more, and, under the orders of the major,—who, like an old wounded lion, seemed to abandon the fight with regret,—commenced their retreat, continually harassed by the Apaches.
They soon reached the river. Here the savages were constrained to fall back in their turn, being decimated by the showers of grape poured upon their dense ranks by the guns of the fortress.
This successful diversion permitted the scanty survivors of the heroic Mexican phalanx to enter the boats, and retire without further molestation, carrying with them two or three prisoners they had contrived to secure. The fight was at an end, after having lasted five hours. The Apaches had only conquered through the treachery of thevaqueros.
The colonel received his friend at the landing place, and congratulated him on his admirable defence, which, in his eyes, was as good as a victory, on account of the enormous losses it had caused the enemy.
Then, without losing time, the two officers took measures to complete the defence of the place, by ordering the construction of strong intrenchments on the bank of the river, and the erection of two flanking batteries, of six guns each.
The capture of the oldpresidioby the Indians, through the treachery of thevaqueros, was an immense loss to the Mexicans, whose communications with the numerous haciendas on that bank were cut off. Luckily, the colonel, foreseeing a result almost inevitable from the want of troops at his disposal, had withdrawn the whole of the population of the suburb into San Lucar. The houses had been gutted, horses and cattle carried off, and the boats moored under the batteries of the fort, where they were in safety—at least for the present.
It is true the Indians were masters of the suburb; but the success had cost them greater losses than the possession of it was worth. After all, the Mexicans had only lost an insignificant piece of ground, scarcely worth defence; for the oldpresidiowas not the key of the place, of which it was only a questionable dependency, and from which it was separated by the breadth of the river.
Thus the effect of the battle on the two camps was exactly the reverse of what the reader might suppose.
The Mexicans almost congratulated themselves on the loss of a position nearly useless to them in the present state of affairs, and the defence of which could only cost them many valuable lives; while the Apaches asked each other sadly what good the conquest of the suburb had done them, in return for the loss of more than five hundred of their bravest warriors who had fallen.
Twovaqueros, who had been thrown from their horses, had been taken prisoners by the Mexicans during their retreat.
The colonel ordered a court martial to assemble, commanded two high gibbets to be erected a little in advance of the new intrenchments along the river, and had them hung in the sight of the whole population, and of their companions, who had clustered together on the opposite bank of the river, and uttered shouts of impotent rage at seeing them executed.
Don José Kalbris was not naturally cruel; but in this case he justly thought he ought to make an example, in order to intimidate such as might have the inclination to imitate them. Abando(an edict), fixed to the foot of each gibbet, announced that the same fate awaited every revoltedvaquerowho fell into the hands of the Mexicans.
While this was doing, evening closed in; and the Indians, to annoy the whites, amused themselves by setting fire to the suburb they had taken the night before. The immense volume of flame produced by the conflagration threw fantastic shadows over the camp of the Apaches and the town of San Lucar, whose miserable inhabitants, plunged in the stupor of grief, knew they had no mercy to expect from foes like these.
The colonel seemed made of iron: he did not take a moment's rest, but visited the posts continually, and sought by every means to strengthen the defences of the town.
He and the major had just entered the fort, after making a final round. The night had passed, and the Indians had retreated to their camp, after making a futile attempt to surprise thepresidio.
"Well, major," said the colonel, "you see how it is; there is no use in our trying to blind each other. It is only a question of time for us; whether we shall be taken tomorrow or in a week, no one can say: but everyone can see what the result must be."
"Hm!" said the major; "When the last moment has come, we shall always have the resource of shutting ourselves up in the fort, and blowing it and ourselves to the devil."
"Unluckily, we have not even that resource."
"How so?"
"Why, we old soldiers might blow ourselves up easily and ought to do it; but we cannot condemn the women and children shut up with us to such a cruel fate."
"True; but I have it! Although we cannot blow ourselves up, I can always blow out my brains."
"You have not even that consolation, my good friend. Is it not our duty to set an example to the poor people cooped up here, and protect them while we can? Is it not our duty to be in the breach to the last?"
The major made no reply to this argument, which he inwardly acknowledged to be unanswerable.
"But," said he, after a pause, "how is it we have received no news from the capital of the state?"
"Ah, my friend! Out there they have probably other things than us to think of."
"I will not believe it."
At this moment a servant opened the door, and announced:
"Don Torribio Quiroga!"
The two men shuddered, without being able to account for their emotion.
Don Torribio entered. He wore the magnificent uniform of a colonel in the Mexican service, and on his left arm the ribbons of an aide-de-camp. He bowed respectfully to the two officers.
"Is that you, Don Torribio?" said the colonel.
"I suppose it is," said the former smiling.
"When I last saw you, you were about to undertake a long journey."
"From which I have just returned."
"But the uniform you wear?"
"Good heavens, caballeros! I was tired of being treated in the provinces as a nobody, a kind of useless ninny. I threw off everything of that sort, and have become a man of the world like others."
"Then you are—?" asked Don José.
"An officer like yourself, colonel,—of the same rank; and moreover, aide-de-camp to the governor of the state."
"It is wonderful!" said the colonel.
"Why so? Nothing could be more simple."
The major had taken no part in this conversation. When Don Torribio entered, a strange suspicion had seized him.
"I confess," said the colonel, "that I was a thousand miles from thinking—"
"What, pray? That I should turn officer? You see, you were wrong; and so much the more so, since I have been deputed by the general commanding the province to bring you a message, which I am sure will be of great service to you in the present conjuncture."
He drew forth a large folded paper, sealed with the Mexican arms, and presented it to the colonel.
Don José hastened to take it.
"With your permission," said he, and hurriedly broke the seal, and read the missive.
"Aha!" he exclaimed; "Four hundred and fifty men! I did not expect so strong a reinforcement."
"The general feels greatly concerned for thepresidio," said Don Torribio; "he will spare no sacrifice to retain it."
"¡Vive Dios!caballero, with such help I care as much for the Indians as for a bundle of straw."
"It seems to me that they will not arrive a whit too soon," said Don Torribio, with a sneer.
"¡Canarios!It is just in time; but now we shall have some fun."
"I hope so," said the other, while an indescribable smile curled his lips.
"And your men?" asked the governor.
"Will be here in an hour, at the latest."
"To what corps do they belong?"
"To none in particular; they areguerilleros" (irregular troops).
"Hm!" said the colonel, showing a little disappointment; "I should have preferred other troops. But never mind; if you like, we will go out to meet them."
"I am at your orders, colonel."
"Shall I go with you?" asked the major.
"Nothing could be better," said Don Torribio hastily.
The colonel hesitated a moment.
"No," said he, at last; "remain here. One cannot tell what may happen, and somebody must be here to act for me in my absence. Come, Don Torribio."
With a sigh of satisfaction, the major threw himself back again on the sofa from which he had risen.
The two men went out. Just as they were mounting, they encountered a horseman, who came up at full speed.
"Estevan Diaz!" muttered Don Torribio to himself; "Please Heaven he has not recognized me."
[1]The inhabitants of the United States.
[1]The inhabitants of the United States.
As we have already said, Don Torribio had rapidly quitted the Hacienda del Cormillo in company with the mysterious stranger whom he had met in such an extraordinary manner.
Their journey was not long. At the close of a quarter of an hour, the stranger pulled up his horse, saying, in a sharp tone:
"It is useless to take you farther before I know what I have to expect from you."
Don Torribio had halted at the same time as the unknown.
"I think you are making a mistake, caballero," said he dryly.
"In what way, if you please, señor?" said the other in a sneering tone.
"I am going to put you in possession of a few facts, which will put us on a level with each other."
"Let us hear them, caballero; I am all attention."
"In the first place," said Don Torribio firmly, "before we go any farther, let me give you a piece of advice."
"Advice is always useful: if yours is good, I shall profit by it; of that be certain."
"You will be right. I am unaware whether you know me, but be sure of this: I am not easily frightened; and if, for some unknown reason, you have led me into an ambush, I warn you that, at the first suspicious movement you make, I will blow your brains out; for I neither know you, nor what your intentions are."
"Good! You are a man after my own heart, I see clearly we shall come to an understanding."
"Perhaps so. But as it is not I who have come to seek you out,—as I have not claimed your aid in any way,—I demand, in the first place, that you give me a clear explanation, without prevarication or circumlocution."
The stranger shrugged his shoulders.
"Is it not enough for you to know that I am in a position to serve you effectually in the plans of vengeance you meditate?"
"I neither understand what you say, nor to what you allude," said Don Torribio haughtily.
"Aha!" said the other, laughing grimly; "Is that the way you answer me?"
"Why should I give you a different answer? What right have you to my confidence? On what plea, supposing I have a secret, do you pretend to search into it?"
"Because your enemy is mine also; because, in avenging you, I avenge myself. Do you understand me now?"
"No more than I did before. If you have nothing else to say, we had better break off our conference and part."
The stranger made a gesture of impatience: he had not expected to meet with so much inflexibility.
"One word more, Don Torribio Quiroga. The man whom you hate, whose death you have already plotted, is called Don Fernando Carril. That man who for a long time has crossed your path at every turn, counteracting your plans and ruining your hopes, has overthrown you in all your reencounters; your very life belongs to him; he has taken all, even to the heart of her you love. Is not this true? Will you trust me now?"
Don Torribio had listened with mingled pain and anger to the revelations of the singular being who had accosted him.
"Yes," said he, clenching his hand with rage, "yes, you are well informed. I care not whether you have gleaned your knowledge from heaven or hell; it is accurate. This man is my evil genius, always and forever crossing my path, and overthrowing, as if in wantonness, my most cherished aspirations. I would sacrifice my whole fortune to avenge myself on him—to hold him, panting and despairing, in my power."
"I thought we should end by coming to an understanding."
"Do not mock me, señor; my soul is deeply troubled. I could have forgiven this man his insolent good luck, his success in the world, where he thrives at my expense, the heaps of gold he wins with such proud indifference,—I say, I could have forgiven him all this, if he had not destroyed my sweetest hopes in tearing from me the heart of her I love; for although I have no tangible proof to corroborate my suspicions, I have tonight acquired a moral certainty impossible to controvert. A lover's heart does not deceive him; jealousy is sharp-sighted. On the appearance of Don Fernando at Don Pedro de Luna's, I found in him a rival, and a rival who is preferred to me."
"If you choose, I will rid you of Don Fernando, and deliver Doña Hermosa into your hands."
"You will do that?" cried Don Torribio, beside himself with joy.
"I will do it," briefly responded the stranger. "Before two days are over, you shall have your revenge on both. But it all depends upon your own will."
"Ah! If that is all," said the other, with an indescribable expression of rage, "I will do all you ask, I will agree to all your demands, to the utmost of my power."
"Take heed, Don Torribio; we are about to enter into a compact—a compact, the conditions of which you must fulfil at all hazards."
"Whatever they may be, I will fulfil them, if you secure my twofold revenge."
"Good! Swear to me, by all you hold most sacred in this world, that, whatever may happen, whatever determination you may arrive at hereafter, you will never divulge what is going to pass between us."
"I swear to you,a fe decaballero," (on the honour of a gentleman), "señor. Speak with all confidence."
"Just now you asked me who I am: I am the Tigercat!"
Don Torribio shuddered involuntarily on hearing this redoubtable name, but recovered himself immediately.
"Very good," said he; "the name you reveal is a guarantee of success to my vengeance."
"Yes," said the bandit, chuckling, "I dare say it is; my reputation has been established a long time on the frontiers. In the meantime, this is what I exact of you. Ponder well what you are about to hear—reflect seriously on what I am going to propose—before you answer; for, I repeat once more, I will compel you to act up to the conditions when once you have accepted them."
"Speak," he replied impatiently; "have I not told you I am longing for revenge?"
"Hear me, then, and remember your oath. I am at this moment preparing an expedition against San Lucar, of which I intend to gain possession at any price. For certain reasons, which need not be mentioned, I have assembled several tribes of the Apaches and a considerable number ofvaqueros, who are concealed not far from hence, and only await my signal to fall, like tigers thirsting for blood, upon thepueblo, as it is gorged with wealth. An active and intelligent ally, upon whom I counted to execute this boldcoup-de-main, has deserted me at the last moment. You alone can replace him: will you do so?"
"What is this?" exclaimed Don Torribio, shuddering; "It is treason you propose!"
"No," replied the other, in a deep voice, "it is revenge!—consummate vengeance, by which I shall confound your enemies, and those who have applauded their success, while they laughed in scorn at each of your disasters."
"What! I, Don Torribio Quiroga, belonging to one of the oldest families in the country; I am to associate—"
He hesitated and paused. The Tigercat laughed with disdain.
"With bandits and redskins, you would say, and wage war on your own countrymen. Why hesitate to pronounce the words? As for me, those qualifications have no value. I offer you revenge on your countrymen, who have become your enemies in siding with your adversary. You are about to engage in a duel. In a duel, all feints to kill your opponent are lawful. But these are my conditions, and I will not alter them a tittle. I will give you twenty-four hours for consideration."
A long silence ensued between the two men.
The night was dark; the wind howled mournfully through the branches of the trees; nameless noises passed them by, borne on the wings of the breeze.
At last Don Torribio answered in husky tones:
"You have given me twenty-four hours; I demand forty-eight to come to my determination. I will make one more attempt with her I love. You see, I am frank with you. The line of conduct I adopt will depend upon the result of the experiment."
"Be it so," said the Tigercat; "it is better thus. Your cooperation will be more efficacious, and your will firmer, when your last allusion has been torn from you. Go, then! For my part, I shall not be idle."
"Thanks! In case I want to communicate to you my resolve, where shall I find you?"
"I will await you at the Barranca del Fraile" (the Friar's inn).
"Agreed! God grant," he added, with a sigh, "that fate may not force me to be there!"
The Tigercat laughed aloud; and, without replying, spurred his horse, and disappeared in the darkness.
We have already related how the old freebooter acted to keep his promise to Don Torribio.
The desertion among the Apaches, brought about by the influence of theamantzin, on the night when the Tigercat left them to repair to the rendezvous arranged with Stoneheart, had not been as successful as the sorcerer had hoped. The sudden return of the old chief sufficed to restore his authority among the Apaches, who had long been accustomed to obey him, and whose raids against the frontier had always been productive of booty when he commanded them.
The Tigercat had not even taken the trouble to punish theamantzinhimself—the Zopilote had taken care of that; and the summary execution had produced an excellent effect upon those rugged and savage minds, which brute force alone can tame.
Nevertheless, he had no wish to damp the renewed devotion shown him by the redskins; and, although his final dispositions were not yet made, and the defection of Stoneheart was a serious hindrance to his plans, he comprehended the necessity of hurrying on his expedition, even at the risk of seeing it fail, calculating on turning to his own profit the hatred of Don Torribio, whose high standing in the province might be very useful to him. He assembled all the Indians able to bear arms of whom he could dispose, crossed the Rio Grande del Norte; and these vultures fell like a devastating hurricane on the luckless Indian frontier,—burning, pillaging, slaughtering, and passing like a horrible plague over those magnificent plains which they left behind them a desert.
Don Torribio Quiroga was one of the first to learn the tidings of the Indian invasion. The news gave him an indescribable feeling of mingled joy and regret. He guessed that the Tigercat wished to give him a proof of the sincerity of his intentions towards him, and of the manner in which he meant to keep the promise he had given.
Up to that time a prey to a thousand conflicting feelings, he now resolved to settle his doubts at once, and to learn positively what he had to hope or fear from Doña Hermosa and her father. Towards nine o'clock in the morning, he called for his horse, and, in spite of the danger he would certainly incur in the short space between the presidio and the hacienda, he managed to leave San Lucar, on which the Indians were rapidly moving, and rode at full speed towards El Cormillo.
About half way to the hacienda his horse started at several dead bodies lying across the road, riddled with wounds; but he was too preoccupied by his own thoughts to pay much attention to the ominous reencounter. As he rode past, he cast a careless look at the corpses, and continued his road without further thought of the incident.
Either designedly, or because they knew the futility of an attack on the hacienda, the Apaches had deviated from their furious course, so as not to approach it. When Don Torribio arrived, he found it in a perfect state of defence: the gates shut and barricaded with care, the windows blocked and loopholed; and he saw the bayonets of the numerous garrison gleaming above the walls in the sunshine.
The sentries placed at the principal entrance gave admittance to Don Torribio, but not before they had questioned and recognised him. Apeonreceived and conducted him to the drawing room. He found three persons there: Don Pedro de Luna, Ña Manuela, and Don Estevan Diaz, who, pale and bloody, was lying upon a sofa, apparently asleep. His mother, seated beside him, watched his slumbers with that tender solicitude which belongs to mothers only. Don Torribio took a few hesitating steps forward, and stopped in surprise when he perceived that no one seemed to notice his presence. At last Don Pedro raised his eyes, and looking at him coldly, said, "Oh! Is it you, cousin? How does it happen that you are here today?"
"Had I no other motive," replied Don Torribio, troubled by a reception he had not anticipated, and foreseeing a storm, "the lively interest I take in your family would have made it my duty to be here now."
"I thank you, cousin," said Don Pedro still more coldly, "for the proof of sympathy you are kind enough to give us. But you might have remembered that El Cormillo is in a perfect state of defence, and that we run no danger behind these walls, before you exposed yourself to be assassinated on the road, as has nearly happened to our poor Don Estevan."
"Has he been set upon?" asked Don Torribio.
"Yes," dryly replied the hacendero; "he and another person, who, less lucky than Estevan, is most likely dead. Did you not know it?"
"I!" Exclaimed Don Torribio, with an accent of truth there was no mistaking; "How should I know?"
"Excuse me, cousin; I am so troubled at what has occurred, that I hardly know what I am saying."
Don Torribio bowed, and then replied:
"May I not have the pleasure of offering my homage to my charming cousin?"
"You must excuse her; she has retired to her room. The poor child is so distracted by the late extraordinary events, that she is unable to see any one—not even you."
"I am the more grieved at this indisposition, as I wished to have some conversation with her on a matter of moment."
"So much the worse, cousin; so much the worse. The time is ill chosen to speak of business, as you must allow, when the Indians are at our gates, devastating our fields and burning our dwellings."
"True, cousin; I acknowledge the justice of your remark. Unfortunately, I find myself placed by chance in such extraordinary circumstances, that if I might persist—"
"It would be useless, my dear Don Torribio," said Don Pedro, interrupting him, and exhibiting a certain degree of stiffness. "I have the honour to tell you that my daughter cannot have the pleasure of seeing you today."
"Then pray, cousin, excuse my inopportune intrusion. Perhaps I shall be more lucky another day."
"That is it; some other day, when we have got rid of these cursed pagans, and have no longer a horrible death in perspective."
"And now," said Don Torribio, with ill-suppressed rage, "as I perceive that, owing to your abstraction doubtless, you have not even offered me a seat, cousin, I have no more to do than offer my good wishes for your safety, and take my leave of you."
The hacendero did not seem to observe the tone of ill humour in which these words were uttered.
"Good-bye, then, Don Torribio," said he, "and a lucky journey. Above all things, be prudent, and do not travel with your eyes shut. The roads are infested by brigands, and I should be in despair if you met with mishap."
"I thank you for your advice, and will follow it," he replied, turning to leave the room.
Just at this moment Don Estevan—who, as we have said, appeared to be sleeping—opened his eyes, and perceived Don Torribio. His look brightened.
"Mother," said he in a feeble voice, "and you, Don Pedro, do me the favour to leave me alone with this caballero for a short time. I have a few words to say to him in private."
"To me, señor?" asked Don Torribio, in a tone so haughty it sounded like disdain.
"To yourself, Señor Don Torribio Quiroga," replied the wounded man, whose voice grew stronger under the excitement of his feelings.
"You are very weak, my son, for a conversation with any one," said Manuela.
"Perhaps, my friend," said Don Pedro, "it would be more prudent to defer it for a few days."
"No," was the reply; "it must be today—must be this instant."
"Just as you please, headstrong!" said Don Pedro. "We will go into the anteroom, where we shall be within call. Come, Manuela."
Don Estevan kept his eyes fixed on the door till it closed behind them; then he turned to Don Torribio, who was still standing in the centre of the room.
"Come nearer, señor, that you may be better able to hear what I have to say to you."
"I am listening to you, señor; but, at the same time, must beg you not to delay your communication."
"You shall have it. I warn you, that I tore the mask from one of the bandits who attacked us, and recognised him."
"I am at a loss to understand," said Don Torribio.
"Oh! You do not understand, señor! It is the answer I expected. I suppose, likewise, you do not know the name of the person who accompanied me, and on whom thevaquerosfell with such indescribable fury?"
"I am perfectly ignorant as to who he was," said Don Torribio, quite unmoved.
"Better and better! Learn, then, that it was Don Fernando Carril who was killed." And he cast a look pregnant with irony at the man standing beside him.
"Don Fernando Carril!—killed!" exclaimed the latter, stupefied.
Don Estevan smiled disdainfully.
"Listen once more to this," he continued in threatening tones. "If Don Fernando is not brought to this hacienda within twenty-four hours, I will reveal to Don Pedro and his daughter the name of his assassin. I think you understand me this time?" And, overcome with grief, he sank half fainting on his couch.
Don Torribio remained a moment, annihilated with the words he had heard; but, immediately recovering his presence of mind, he quickly left the hacienda, and galloped into the plains, muttering as he rode:
"The Tigercat was right: there is nothing left for me but to seek the Barranca del Fraile."
We must now explain to our readers what happened after the fall of Don Fernando Carril, when he was made the victim of an ambuscade.
When his hand was no longer able to raise his sword, and he had fallen by the side of his companion, the men in masks—who had been chary of approaching too near him, out of respect for the blade he wielded so well, as proved by the bodies of four bandits lying on the sand beside him? rushed all at once upon him.
Don Fernando Carril lay on his back showing no signs of life. A deadly, pallor overspread his noble features; his half-opened lips disclosed his clenched teeth; blood was flowing in torrents from the many wounds he had received; and his hand still clasped the weapon with which he had so long held his assailants at bay.
"¡Caspita!" cried one, looking at him attentively; "Here is a young gentleman who is seriously hurt. What will the master say?"
"What would you have him say, Señor Carlocho?" said another; "He defended himself like a lion. It is his own fault. He ought to have let himself be taken nicely, and all this would not have happened. Look! we have lost four men."
"A pretty loss indeed, those four fellows there! I would rather he had killed six than be in the state he is now."
"The devil!" muttered the other bandit; "That is no compliment to us, you know."
"That will do; that will do. Help me to bind up his wounds as well as we can, and lose no time about it. This is no wholesome place for us; besides we are expected elsewhere; so be quick."
Without further discussion, the bandits hastened to obey the orders of Carlocho. Don Fernando's wounds were bound up somehow; he was thrown across the horse of theguacho, who seemed to be leader of the expedition, and the party set off at full gallop, without further heed of those who had fallen in the struggle, and whose bodies were abandoned to the beasts of prey.
After a very rapid ride of two hours, they reached an abandonedrancho.
Two men were awaiting their arrival with impatience.
These two men were Tigercat and Don Torribio.
"Well!" shouted the former, as soon as he saw them.
"It is done!" said Carlocho laconically, as he dismounted, took Don Fernando in his arms, and carried him to a bed of leaves.
The latter showed no signs of life.
"Is he dead?" asked the Tigercat.
Carlocho shook his head.
"He is hardly better than dead," he replied.
"Wretch!" cried the Indian chief in a fury; "Is it thus you execute my orders? Did I not command you to take him alive?"
"Hm!" said Carlocho; "I only wish you had been there to see! An incarnate demon, who, armed only with a thin rapier, withstood us for more than twenty minutes, and only gave in after killing four of our bravest!"
The Tigercat smiled disdainfully.
"You are all cowards," he said.
And turning his back on thevaquero, he went up to Don Fernando.
Don Torribio was already at his side.
"Is he dead?" he asked.
"No," replied the Mexican; "but nearly so."
"So much the worse," muttered the old chief, "I would give a good deal for his recovery."
Don Torribio looked at him with astonishment.
"Of what importance is the life of this man to us?" he said. "Was he not your enemy?"
"The very reason why I do not wish him to die."
"I do not understand you."
"I have devoted my life to the accomplishment of an idea; therefore I no longer belong to myself, and am bound to offer up my hate and friendship to my idea."
"I admit that, up to a certain point: but how is it, then, that you have laid a trap for this man, who, according to your own account, is a traitor."
"Are men always to be harshly judged, even by those who are most intimate with them?" said the old chief, with a bitter smile. "What is it to me that the man may be a traitor? By putting him out of the way, without touching his life, I should have gained the end I had before me when I sought your alliance. After keeping him a prisoner for a few days, to prevent his counteracting your plans, and hindering your marriage with Doña Hermosa, I should have restored him to freedom. Unluckily, it is too late now: what is done cannot be undone. The death of this man, obscurely slain in ambuscade, will do more to frustrate my plans than you imagine. His blood be upon your head! It is you who ordered this murder."
"I!" replied Don Torribio. "You are mad!"
The Tigercat looked at his new ally with a stare of surprise, shrugged his shoulders, and whistled a Mexicanseguidilla. It was evident that Don Torribio had not understood a word of what had been uttered by this singular man, whose sole delight had hitherto been in slaughter.
"Pooh!" said he; "What does one, more or less, signify?"
The Indian chief stooped over the body of the wounded man, and examined it carefully. The eyes were closed, and the features had the paleness and rigidity of death. Two or threevaqueros, aided by Carlocho, rubbed his temples and chest incessantly with rum.
After looking at the body attentively, the old chief drew a knife from his girdle, held the blade for two or three minutes across the mouth, withdrew it again, and examined it. He thought it was slightly tarnished; then he knelt down by Don Fernando, seized his left arm, ripped up the sleeve, and, having felt for the vein, pricked it with the delicate point of his knife.
Then followed an instant of anxious suspense. The looks of all were fixed on the wounded man. This attempt would be the last; if it did not succeed, all was over: he knew of no other means to recall him to life. Thevaqueroscontinued the friction.
At the puncture made by the chief's knife, there appeared at last a dark speck; little by little it increased in size, till it grew into a black point, which finally became a bead of jet: this trembled for a moment, and then fell rolling down the arm, pressed forward by another which succeeded it, and immediately made room for a third; then the blood grew less black and less thick, and finally gushed out in a long vermillion stream.
The Tigercat could not repress a shout of triumph; Don Fernando was saved. In fact, after the lapse of a minute, the latter moved slightly and uttered a deep sigh.
The Indian chief rose, after binding up Don Fernando's arm and signed to Pablito to follow him into another compartment of therancho, requesting Don Torribio to remain for a time where he was.
Without waiting for the question which thevaquerowas about to ask, and which he saw playing about his finely chiselled lips, the chief began to speak with a feverish haste, betraying the secret agitation of his mind.
"You see what has happened," he said.
"But you yourself willed it so!" said Pablito, utterly surprised.
"Yes, I did will it; and I thank God for having spared me this odious crime!"
"If you are satisfied, all will go well."
"But here is another matter. Remember this: Don Torribio must be kept in the dark. To all the world, and to this man in particular, Don Fernando is dead."
"Speak on; I think I understand you."
"Don Fernando's wounds, though many, are not severe. The loss of blood, and the speed with which he was brought hither, are the sole causes of the lethargy into which he has fallen, and out of which he will soon awake."
"Good; Now, what am I to do?"
"He must not see me."
"Very good; nothing can be easier."
"Nor must he recognise you."
"That will be more difficult; he knows me well."
"It is most important."
"I will try."
"And now, this is what you have to do."
"I am all attention."
"I must leave this place immediately; my presence is required elsewhere. As for you, you will have Don Fernando carried to thepresidio, without his learning who has taken him thither."
"To thepresidio?" exclaimed Pablito, astonished.
"Yes; it is the safest place," said the chief, drawing forth a paper cut to a certain shape; "you will take him to my house. He must not leave it on any pretence: above all, he must not know he is at thepresidio."
"Is that all?"
"It is. Only, remember, you are answerable to me for him."
"Very well. At your orders I will produce him, alive or dead."
"Alive! His life is precious to me."
"Then I will do my best."
"And now, Pablito, be honest with me. Can I trust you?"
"Well," said Pablito, "since you are so much concerned about such a wretched affair, I will answer for your prisoner."
"Then farewell, and thanks," said the Tigercat; "above all, remember to report to me tonight, in Don Torribio's presence, that his enemy is dead."
"Rely upon me for that."
"No, no," muttered the old chief to himself; "he must not die: his life is too necessary for the accomplishment of my revenge."
He rejoined Don Torribio, who had grown impatient. Without exchanging a word, the two mounted the magnificent mustangs that were waiting for them, and disappeared amongst the foliage.
Pablito, twisting his moustache in ill humour, returned to the wounded man; the office intrusted to him was evidently unpalatable. However, as thevaquerowas an honest man enough, after his own fashion, and prided himself, among the numerous other good qualities he fancied he possessed, most especially on his adherence to his word, the thought of breaking it never entered his mind.
"How is he?" he asked Carlocho in a whisper.
"A great deal better," replied the latter. "It is astonishing how much good the bleeding has done him; he has already opened his eyes twice and tried to speak."
"Hm! Then we have no time to lose. Put a bandage round the eyes of this fellow, and then, lest he should use his hands to remove it, tie them down to his sides. But, as this is only to be done for prudence' sake, I recommend you to use as much gentleness and delicacy as your nature is capable of. Do you understand perfectly?"
"Yes,¡canarios!One need not be a wizard to do that!"
"Well, make haste! I give you five minutes to obey my orders: in ten we shall be gone."
The wounded man had indeed recovered a good deal of his strength. As the chief had declared, his wounds were not severe, and the loss of blood alone had occasioned the prostration in which he was lying.
Little by little he had recovered his senses sufficiently to know into whose hands he had fallen; and although too feeble to offer the slightest opposition whatever to the bandits at his side, his presence of mind had returned in a degree to enable him to comprehend that the greatest circumspection was necessary, to avoid arousing the suspicions as to his state in people who would not for a moment hesitate to sacrifice him to their safety.
So, when Carlocho, according to the injunctions of Pablito, passed a folded handkerchief over his eyes, and bound his hands, he feigned entire insensibility, and allowed them to do as they pleased with him, secretly rejoiced at these precautions, which indicated that his life was safe for the present.
"Now, what is to be done?" asked Carlocho.
"Two or three of you take up the wounded man, and carry him carefully to the boat I have in waiting close by. And pay particular attention to him, you fellows; for, at the first jolt, I will blow your brains out."
"Caray!" was all thevaquerocould utter, for surprise.
"Ah!" said Pablito, with a shrug of his shoulders; "As you were fools enough not to kill him when you might have done so, so much the worse for you: now you shall mount guard over him. That shall teach you to introduce courtesy, or, if you like it better, clumsiness, into an ambuscade the next time."
Carlocho opened his eyes wide at this rodomontade, which he could not understand, but hastened to obey the order.
Don Fernando was carried thus into a boat by Pablito, Carlocho, and a thirdvaquero;while the remainder went off by land, taking their comrades' horses with them. Three hours later, the prisoner, to whom his keepers had not spoken a word during the journey, was carried into thepresidio, and shut up in a house lately hired by the Tigercat in a fictitious name—a circumstance of which Don Fernando knew nothing.
The bandage was taken from his eyes, his hands were freed; but a man in a mask, mute as a tomb, was placed in his chamber, and never left him.
The wounded man, harassed by the journey, and weakened by the blood he had lost, resolved, for the present, to trust to chance for relief from his annoying and incomprehensible situation. He gave that apparently listless but all-observant glance around him which is peculiar to prisoners, and dropped off into a deep sleep, lasting many hours, and restoring to his mind all its coolness and original clearness.
The people who served him, though masked and dumb, took the greatest care of him, and seemed to vie with each other in their endeavours to comply with his wishes, and satisfy his most capricious whims. In point of fact, his position was tolerable; at bottom, there was a spice of originality about it; and Don Fernando, convinced, at the end of two days' experience, that no attempt would be made on his life, but that, on the contrary, every effort was made to heal his wounds as quickly as possible, concluded to bear his lot bravely, in the expectation of better times.
The third day of his captivity, Don Fernando, whose wounds were only sword cuts, and now nearly cicatrised, rose from his bed, partly to try his strength, and partly to look out and discover where he was: it was requisite to know the locality, in order to mature the scheme of escape he was already secretly planning.
The weather was magnificent; the hot sunlight shone cheerfully in at the windows, tracing the bars on the floor of the chamber which served as his prison. It made him feel quite refreshed, and he tried to walk a few steps, still carefully watched by his inevitable guard, whose flaming eyes were never off him. Suddenly a terrible clamour arose, and a round of artillery shook the panes.
"What is that?" asked Don Fernando.
His keeper shrugged his shoulders, but did not reply.
The sharp cracking of muskets was now mingled with the roar of the guns; and it became evident that a hard fight was going on somewhere in the neighbourhood. His keeper, imperturbable as ever, closed the windows.
Don Fernando went up to him. The two men stared at each other for a moment. Many a time had the wounded man addressed a question to this stolid sentry without eliciting an answer, and now he hesitated a little before making a fresh attempt.
"Friend," said he, at last, in a gentle voice, "what is going on out of doors?"
The man remained mute.
"Answer me, in the name of Heaven!" continued the querist; "I ask but little. Surely you would not overstep your instructions by telling me thus much?"
Just then the clamour seemed to draw nearer; hurried steps, mingled with outcries, sounded close at hand. His keeper rose uneasily, drew his machete (knife) from its sheath, pulled a pistol from his belt, and went towards the door; but on a sudden it was violently opened, and a man rushed into the room, his face blanched with terror.
"Up! On your guard;" cried he; "we are lost!"
His keeper made a sign for Don Fernando to keep back, and placed himself resolutely in front of the door, where four men, masked and armed to the teeth, had just made their appearance.
"Back!" cried the keeper; "No one enters here without a watchword!"
"Here you have it," answered one of the men at the door, as, with a pistol, he blew out the keeper's brains.
The four men stepped over his body, seized and bound his comrade, who had crouched down in the farthest corner of the room, and advanced to Don Fernando, who was wondering at the strange scene.
"You are at liberty, caballero," said one of the four. "Come, you must leave this house at once."
"First of all, who are you?" replied Don Fernando; "Who are you, who proclaim yourselves my liberators?"
"We have no time for explanations," answered the man in the mask. "Make haste and follow us."
"Not before I know who you are."
The other gave an impatient stamp, and, stooping down, whispered in his ear:
"Madman! Have you no wish to see Doña Hermosa again?"
Don Fernando reddened with pleasure.
"I follow you," said he.
"Here," said the mask, "take these pistols and this sword; we have not done our work yet. We may still have fighting before us."
"Yes!" exclaimed Don Fernando joyfully; "I now see that you are really sent to save me. I will follow wherever you may lead." And he seized the weapons, and placed them in his girdle.
They hastily left the house.
"What!" cried Don Fernando, as he put his foot out of doors, "Am I at thepresidioof San Lucar?"
"Did you not know it?" asked his guide.
"How was it possible? I was brought here with my eyes bandaged."
In the court several horses, ready saddled, were tied to rings in the wall.
"Could you keep your saddle?" said the stranger.
"I hope so," replied Don Fernando.
"You must," said the stranger peremptorily.
"Then I will, even if I die in it."
"Good: let us mount and be gone."
At the very moment they were issuing into the street, a troop of ten or twelve mounted men were coming up at full gallop: they were not more than twenty paces off.
"Here are the enemy," said the stranger in deep and low tones; "we must charge and ride over them, or die."
The five men formed in line, and rushed like a thunderbolt upon the newcomers, at whom they discharged their pistols point-blank, and then cut their way with the sword.
"¡Caray!" screamed Pablito, in a fury—for it was he who commanded the troop—"My prisoner is escaping."
Spurring his horse, he dashed at Don Fernando. But the latter, without drawing bridle, fired a pistol; and thevaquero'shorse, struck by a ball in the forehead, rolled to the ground, bearing his rider with him.
Pablito rose, half killed by the fall. The men who had attacked him so briskly had disappeared.
"Never mind; I shall find them again," he cried.
In the meantime, the fugitives had reached the bank of the river, and found a boat waiting for them.
"We must part here," said the stranger, taking off his mask.
"Estevan!" cried Don Fernando.
"Myself," replied themayor domo. "This boat will take you to the Hacienda del Cormillo. Go there without delay, and," he added, as he placed in his hands a paper folded into four, "read this attentively; perhaps you will have to come to the rescue in your turn."
"Be assured on that score: I have my revenge to take."
"Farewell, my friend."
"Shall I see Doña Hermosa?"
"I am forbidden to talk on the subject."
"Another question, then. Do you know who kept me prisoner?"
"Yes; there were two—the Tigercat and Don Torribio."
"Indeed!" said Don Fernando, frowning. "I will not forget them. Once more, thanks Estevan."
He sat down in the boat, and gave a sign to the rowers. They were soon in rapid motion, and speedily lost in the shadows of the darkening night.
Three persons remained on the bank anxiously watching the course of the frail boat. These three persons were Estevan Diaz, Doña Hermosa, and Ña Manuela.