The majordomo's fainting fit, caused rather by the moral struggle he had sustained than by the physical fatigue he had endured, was not of any duration: when he re-opened his eyes, he was alone on the top of the hill. He threw off the furs and blankets laid over him, to protect him, doubtless from the icy cold of the night, and looked curiously round him. The tempest was still raging, but it had lost a great deal of its violence. The rain had ceased: the deep blue sky was gradually becoming studded with twinkling stars, which shed an uncertain light, and gave the landscape an aspect of strange and desolate wildness. The wind blew furiously, and formed waves on the seething top of the waters, which had now almost risen to the spot where the majordomo lay. A few yards from its master, his horse was quietly grazing; it was eating the young tree shoots, and the tall close grass that covered the ground like a thick carpet of verdure. Another horse was browsing close by.
"Good!" Paredes muttered to himself, "My saviour has not gone away; I hope he is not far off, and that I shall see him soon. Where can he be? At his own business, of course, though I cannot guess the nature of his occupation at such a moment. Well, the best plan will be to wait for him."
The Mexican had scarce ended his soliloquy, ere a shadow stood out in the gloom, and the man of whom he was speaking appeared.
"Ah, ah!" he said, gaily, "You are all right again, I see: all the better; I would sooner have you in that position than the one you were in just now."
"Thanks," the majordomo cordially answered. "I fancy I must have looked very pitiable, stretched out like a half-throttlednovillo. Is it not disgraceful for a strong man to faint like a child or a feeble woman?"
"Not the least in the world,compañero," the other said, frankly. "Accident decreed that I should be for a long time the involuntary witness of the contest you waged, though it was impossible to help you, and¡Viva Dios!I declare that you are a tough combatant; you sustained the shock bravely, and many others in your place—I the first, perhaps—would not have got out of the scrape so well."
This answer completely broke the ice, and made the two men comparatively friends at once.
"I confess," Paredes remarked, as he offered his hand to his new friend, "that for a moment I believed myself lost, and had it not been for you I should have been so."
"Nonsense," the other replied, as he pressed the hand offered him. "You owe me nothing, for, by Jove! You saved yourself all alone. But let us not dwell on this point any longer. Although we are in relative safety, as the water cannot reach us here, our position is not the most agreeable; and I fancy it would be the best for us to try and get out of it as quickly as possible."
"That is my opinion, too; but, unluckily, the means at our disposal are very limited."
"Perhaps so; at any rate, with your consent, we will hold an Indian council."
"That is the best thing we can do at this moment. However," he added, as he looked up to the sky, "day will not break for three hours."
"We have time before us, in that case."
Daring this short conversation the storm had entirely ceased, and the wind only blew in gusts.
"Before all," the majordomo said, "let us light a fire; now that the tempest has ceased, the wild beasts, whose instinct is infallible, will seek the shelter of this hill, swarm round us, and, if we do not take care, carry our position by assault."
"Excellently argued; I see that you are a hunter."
"I was one for some time," Paredes replied, with a sigh of regret, "but now it is all over; my adventures in the desert are ended."
"I pity you sincerely," the stranger said, with an accent of sincerity; "for no existence is comparable with it."
"The finest years of my life were those I spent in the desert."
While conversing thus, the two men had dug a hole with their machetes at the foot of an enormous larch tree, to act as a hearth. In this hole they piled up all the resinous wood they were able to procure, lit it with some gunpowder rolled up in leaves, and in a few minutes a long jet of flame sprung up and joyously ascended to the sky, while the wood crackled and emitted millions of sparks. Fire has an immense influence upon the human mind; among other benefits, it has the faculty of restoring joy and hope; and while warming a man with its reviving heat, it often makes him forget perils incurred and fatigues endured. The two men, who were as wet as if they had been in a river, dried themselves for a considerable time, enjoying the pleasant sensations which the heat made them experience, in proportion as it penetrated into the pores, causing the blood to circulate with greater vivacity, and restoring elasticity to their benumbed limbs. It was the majordomo who was the first to resume the conversation.
"¡Viva Dios!" he said, shaking himself joyously; "I am now quite a different man. What a fine thing a fire is when you are cold. Suppose we make use of it, comrade?"
"Do so, pray," the stranger replied, with a laugh; "but in what way?"
"Oh, that is very easy; you shall see. Are you not hungry?"
"Caray, it is fourteen hours since I have eaten; but unluckily I have no provisions."
"Well, I have, and we will share them."
"Very good. I see that you are a first-rate fellow."
The majordomo rose, fetched the alforjas which were fastened to his saddle, and then seated himself again by the fire.
"There!" he said, displaying his provisions with some degree of complacency.
"¡Caramba!" the other remarked, with a laugh; "Food was never more welcome."
The provisions which caused such delight to the two men would have made our European good wives smile with pity. They consisted of some slices oftasajo,cicuia, a lump of goat's cheese, and a few maize tortillas; but the majordomo produced a leather bottle, full of excellent mezcal, which had the privilege of restoring to the two adventurers all their merry carelessness.
Thetasajowas laid on the coals, where it was soon done to a turn, and the two friends heartily attacked the supper. The frugal meal ended, they washed it down with a few sips of mezcal, fraternally passing the bottle to each other; then they lit their cigarettes, theobligadosupplement of every Mexican repast, and began to smoke, while attentively surveying the heavy sky, which was already striped with dark bands under the influence of the early morning hours.
"Now, let us hold a council, if you are agreeable," the stranger said, as he inhaled an enormous mouthful of smoke, which he sent forth through his mouth and nostrils.
"As you are my senior on this territory," the majordomo remarked, with a laugh, "and are better acquainted with its resources than I am, you have the right to speak first."
"Very good: we are surrounded by water, and though the temporal has ceased, the streams will not return to their bed for several hours: moreover, the whole day will pass before the water is entirely absorbed by the sand."
"That is true," the majordomo said, with a significant shake of the head: "and yet we must get away from here."
"That is the question. To do so, we can only employ two means."
"Yes, we must either wait till the ground is dry, and that unfortunately will take a long time, which I cannot afford, as I am in a hurry: or at sunrise we can mount our horses, and bravely swim off, and reach the mountains, which cannot be very far distant."
"You forgot another way which is still at our service."
"I do not think so."
"We can get into a canoe, and tow our horses after us, which will tire them less than carrying us; and enable us to reach the mountains to which you refer with greater ease; and they are only two leagues at the most, from this point."
"Your opinion is certainly good, and I approve of it with all my heart; unluckily we want one very important thing to carry it out."
"What is that?"
"Why, hang it all—the canoe."
"You are mistaken,compadre, we have one."
"Nonsense; how can that be possible?"
"While you were in a faint," the stranger continued, with a smile, "I explored our domain. You know that, in this country, when the rainy season arrives, the inhabitants are accustomed to hide canoes in bushes, and even in trees, in order to give travellers who are surprised by the inundation the means of saving themselves."
"That is true; have you found a canoe?"
"Yes; and hidden behind the very tree against which you are leaning."
"Heaven be praised! In that case we run no risk; but is the canoe in good condition?"
"I have assured myself of that fact, and even found two pairs of new paddles."
"Heaven is very certainly on your side. In that case we will start at sunrise, if that suits you."
"Excellently; though I am not in such a hurry as you appear to be, and for certain reasons I must remain in these parts for some days longer."
"Shall we employ the few hours left us in having a sleep?"
"You can sleep if you like, but as I am not at all fatigued, I shall watch over our common safety."
"I accept your proposal as frankly as you make it. Yet, with your permission, I will not close my eyes till I have become better acquainted with you."
"How so? Are we not friends already?"
"Certainly, I am your friend, at least; but we do not know one another."
"That is to say—"
"We do not know one another—I mean who we are."
"Oh, when travelling, what value can such formalities possess?"
"A greater value than you suppose; in a few hours we shall part, it is true, perhaps never to meet again; but perhaps, at some distant period, we may require each other's assistance; now, how could I summon you, if I did not know your name?"
"You're right, comrade; as for me, I am only a poor devil of a hunter, wood ranger, or trapper—whichever you please, and my companions call me Stronghand, because, as they say, when I hold out my hand to a friend he can trust to it in perfect confidence."
"¡Viva Dios, caballero! you are well named, as I can declare; your reputation has already reached me, and I am delighted at the chance that has brought us together, as I had already desired to form your personal acquaintance."
"I thank you," the hunter replied, with a bow.
"As for me," the Mexican continued, "my name is José Paredes, and I am majordomo to the Marquis de Moguer."
"What!" Stronghand said, with a surprise he did not try to conceal; "you are majordomo at the Hacienda del Toro?"
"Yes, what do you find surprising in that?"
"The man whom his master sent two days ago to Hermosillo, to receive cash for heavy bills drawn on an English banker?"
"How do you know that?" Paredes exclaimed, in his turn overwhelmed with surprise.
"What matter, so long as I know it?" the hunter replied. "Believe me," he added, with an accent that caused the majordomo deep reflection, "our meeting is truly providential, and Heaven led us toward each other."
"That is strange," Paredes muttered; "how is it possible that a secret which my master confided to me alone should be in your possession?"
The hunter smiled. "A secret known to three persons," he said, "does not long remain a secret."
"But that third person, to whom you refer, has no right to divulge it."
"How do you know that? I will say to you in my turn, Master Paredes. Sufficient for you, for the present, to learn that I am aware of the cause of your journey. I think you said you had heard speak of me before we met?"
"That is true, Señor."
"What terms did the persons who spoke of me employ?"
"The best, I must allow. They represented you to me as a man of unspotted loyalty and dauntless courage."
"Good! Does that report satisfy you—have you confidence in me?"
"Yes; for I am convinced that you are an honest man."
"I hope that your opinion of me will not alter. I will soon prove to you that it is fortunate for you and the Marquis that we have met at the moment when you least expected it; for I was looking for you."
"Looking for me? I do not understand you."
"You do not require to understand me at the present moment; but set your mind at rest, everything will be explained ere long."
"I hope so."
"And I am certain of it. Are you devoted to your master?"
"My family have lived on the estate for two hundred years."
"That is not a reason; answer distinctly."
"I am devoted to him body and soul, and would willingly lay down my life for him."
"That is the way to answer; however, I knew it already, and only desired that your lips should confirm what I have been told."
"My master has no secrets from me."
"I know that also. Well, now, listen to me attentively, Señor Paredes, for what I have to reveal to you is of the utmost gravity."
"I am listening to you, Señor."
"Your master is at this moment in danger of being utterly ruined. He is the plaything of villains who have sworn to destroy him. The sum you are going to fetch they intend to take from you, and everything is prepared to make you fall into an infamous trap, in which you will infallibly perish."
"Are you certain of what you assert?" the majordomo exclaimed, in horror.
"I know all, I repeat to you: the men from whom I obtained your secret, who little expected that I was listening to them, at the same time revealed to me the means they intended to employ in assassinating you."
"Why, that is infamous!"
"I am completely of your opinion, and that is why, instead of setting my traps in the desert, as I ought to be doing, I am now here. I wish to foil the plots of these villains, and confound them."
"But what interest induces you to act thus?" the majordomo asked, with a shadow of distrust.
"That question I cannot answer. You must for the present lay aside all curiosity; you must place entire confidence in me, and give me, in what I propose doing, as much help as I shall offer you. Does this suit you? I fancy that the bargain I offer is entirely to your advantage, and that you will run no risk beyond what I do myself."
There was a lengthened silence. The majordomo was reflecting on what he had just heard, while the hunter, with his eyes fixed on him, was patiently waiting till he thought proper to renew the conversation. At length Paredes raised his head, and held out his hand to the hunter, who pressed it.
"Listen, Stronghand," he said to him; "all that you have told me appears extraordinary, and I confess that at once: but there is such frankness in your voice, and your reputation is so well established among your brethren, the wood rangers, who all proclaim your loyalty, that I do not hesitate to confide in you without any reservation, for I am convinced that you can have no idea of betraying me, up to the moment when you think proper to reveal to me the names of the villains into whose hands I should have infallibly fallen, had it not been for you, and who have sworn the ruin of my beloved master. I will do what you ask of me—resign my will entirely; you may regard me as a thing belonging entirely to you. Come, go, act as you think proper, and I will obey you in everything, without asking any explanation of your conduct. Now, in your turn, say if it suits you."
"Yes, my worthy friend, that pleases me. You have guessed my thought. I require this liberty to give me the means of succeeding in what I wish to do. Believe the word of an honest man. If anything can add to the confidence you have placed in me, and of which I am proud, I swear to you, by all that is most sacred in the world, that no one is more interested than I am in the Marquis de Moguer, or more sincerely desires to see him happy."
"We shall still start at sunrise, eh?"
"Yes; but not to proceed to Hermosillo. Before going to that town, we must take certain indispensable precautions. We have to deal with the most crafty bandits on the border, and must beat them by cunning. They are on our track, and we must cheat the cheaters."
"Good, good! I will call to mind my old hunter's profession."
"Remember, above all, the prairie proverb, 'The trees have eyes and the leaves ears.' Fortunately for us, the villains who are watching for you do not disturb me in any way. I reckon principally on that ignorance to foil their plots."
"But if we do not go to Hermosillo, where are we going?"
"Tomorrow, when it is daylight," the hunter answered, sententiously, "when the bright sunbeams permit me to convince myself that no one can hear us, I will tell you. For the present, sleep, rest yourself, so that you may be able to support the fatigue that awaits you."
And, as if to avoid fresh questioning, the hunter wrapped himself in his zarapé, leant his back against the larch tree, stretched out his legs to the fire, and closed his eyes. The majordomo, in spite of his lively desire to continue the conversation, imitated him; and a few minutes later, overcome by the fatigue of every description he had endured for some days, he was fast asleep.
For some years past—that is to say, since the day when Captain Sutter, while digging a well at his plantation in San Francisco, accidentally found a lump of virgin gold—the discovery of the rich mines of the New World has so aroused interest and excited admiration, by giving a fresh impulse to avarice and covetousness, that we consider it necessary to say a few words here about the mines. Of course we shall allude to those situated in the country where our scene is laid—that is, in Sonora.
Sonora is the richest mining country in the world. We assured ourself by official data that six hundred bars of silver and sixty bars of gold, worth together a million of piastres, were brought to the Mint of Hermosillo in 1839. To this large amount a nearly equal sum must be added, which is not brought to be assayed, in order to avoid the payment of the duty, which is five per cent, on silver and four per cent, on gold. This country also possesses most valuable copper mines, but the population generally abandons the other metals to seek virgin gold.
No country in the world possesses auriferous strata so rich and so extensive (criaderos or placeres de oro). The metal is found in alluvial soil in ravines after rain, and always on the surface or at a depth of a few feet. In the north of the province of Arispe, the placers of Quitoval and Sonoitac, which were found again in 1836, and to which we shall soon have to allude more specially, produced for three years two hundred ounces of gold per day,—that is to say, reducing it to our money, the large sum of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds.
The gold seekers restrict themselves to turning up the soil with a pointed stick, and only collect the nuggets that are visible; but if the streams were diverted from their course, and large washings undertaken, the profits would be far more considerable. It is not rare to find nuggets weighing several pounds; we saw at Arispe, in the hands of a miner, one that was worth nine thousand piastres, or about eighteen hundred pounds; and the Royal Cabinet at Madrid contains several magnificent specimens. We will soon describe how and why the working of these strata was interrupted.
Most of the buildings of thepueblos, or Missions of Sonora, serve as the gathering place of the nomadic workmen and traders who collect round any important mine so soon as its working is begun. The place where the workmen assemble takes the name ofReal de MinasorMineral;and if the mine promises to be productive for any length of time, the population definitively settles round it. Many important towns of Mexico had no other origin. The facility with which the miners earn large sums explains the enormous consumption of European goods which takes place in the provinces. Simple rancheros may frequently be seen spending in a few days seven or eight pounds of gold, which only cost them a week's toil. Unhappily, the ruinous passion for gambling—that shameful leprosy of Mexico, whose inhabitants it degrades—prevents the great mine owners from keeping a large capital on their hands, and thus checks works on a great scale.
Before resuming our narrative, we must also give the reader certain information about the Indian nations that inhabit the territory of Sonora. There are in this province five distinct tribes; the Yaquis, the Opatas, the Mayos, the Gilenos, and the Apaches. The Yaquis and Mayos occupy the country to the south of Guaymas, as far as the Rio del Huerto; they let themselves out to the creoles as farm labourers, masons, servants, miners, and divers. Their number is about forty thousand. The Opatas reside along the bank of the San Miguel de Horcasitos, the Arispe, the Los Ures, and the Oposina; they are very good workmen and excellent soldiers. They have always served the government faithfully, both Spanish and Mexican, and their number is estimated at thirty thousand.
The Gilenos spread along the banks of the Gila and Colorado rivers. The Axuas and Apaches, who belong to the Sierra Madre, are confounded under the name of Papazos. These Indians are nomadic, and only live by hunting and plunder; they were formerly encamped to the north of Chihuahua and Sonora; but being driven back by the progress of the Americans and Texans, they threw themselves upon the Mexican territory, where they cause immense damage, for they are well supplied with firearms, which they obtained in exchange for peltry and cattle at the American establishments at the Arkansas, the Missouri, and the Rio Bravo del Norte. In order to complete this brief enumeration of the Indian nations of Sonora, we will mention a mission established at the gates of Hermosillo, and in which five hundred Seris Indians lived; a thousand members of the same tribe, formerly one of the most powerful in this country, but now almost extinct, dwelt on the coast to the north of Guaymas, and in Tiburón or Sharkesland.
We will now temporarily leave Stronghand and José Paredes at the top of the hill, where they found a shelter from the inundation, and lead the reader to the Real de Minas of Quitoval, where certain important events are about to take place.
It was the evening: the streets and plazas of the pueblo were crowded with individuals of every description: Yaquis Indians, hunters, miners, gambusinos, monks, and adventurers, who composed the motley population of the Mineral, mounted and foot, incessantly jostled each other, and bowed, spoke, laughed, or quarrelled. Some were returning from the placer, where they had been at work all day; others were leaving their houses to enjoy the evening breeze; others, and they were the larger number, were entering the drinking shops, through whose doors could be heard the songs of the topers, and the shrill, inharmonious tinkling jarabes and vihuelas.
One of thesetendajos, of a more comfortable and less dirty appearance than the rest, seemed to have the privilege of attracting a greater number of customers than all the rival establishments. After passing through a low door and descending two steps of unequal height, the visitor found himself in a species of hideous den, resembling at once a cellar and a shed, whose earthen flooring, rendered uneven by the mud constantly brought in by customers, caused persons to stumble at each step who visited the place for the first time! A hot heavy vapour, impregnated with alcoholic fumes and mephitic exhalations, escaped through the door of this den, as from the mouth of Hades, and painfully affected mouth and eyes, before the latter became accustomed to the close, obscure aspect of the place, and were enabled to pierce the thick curtain of vapour, which was constantly drawn from one side to the other by the movements of the customers. They perceived, by the dubious light of a fewcandilsscattered here and there, a large and lofty room, whose once whitewashed walls had become black at the lower part by the constant friction of heads, backs, and shoulders, to which they served as a support.
Facing the door was a dais, raised about a foot above the ground; this dais occupied the entire width of the room, and was divided into two parts; that on the right contained a table forming a bar, behind which stood a tall, active fellow, with false look and ill-tempered face, the master of the tendajo. Above the head of this respectable personage, who answered to the harmonious name of Cospeto, a niche had been made in the wall, in which was a statue of the Virgin, holding the Holy Infant in her arms; in front of the statue a dozen small wax tapers, fixed on a row of iron points, were burning. The left hand portion of the dais was occupied by the musicians, or performers on jarabes and vihuelas.
On each side of the room, the centre of which remained free for the dancers, ran rickety, badly made, and dirty tables, occupied at this moment by a crowd of customers, some seated on benches, others standing, laughing, talking, shouting, quarrelling; drinking mezcal, refino, pulque, or infusion of tamarinds, or else staking at monte the gold earned during the day at the mine, and which their dirty hands fetched from the pockets of the shapeless rags that served them as garments. A few women, creatures without a name, whose features were sodden with debauchery, and eyes deep sunk with drinking, were mingled with the crowd; and all, both men and women, were smoking either cigars or husk cigarettes.
Nothing can describe the hideous aspect of this infamous Pandemonium, the refuge of all the vices of the province, overlooked by the gentle, smiling face of the statue of the Virgin, whose features, in the light of the tapers, assumed an expression of wondrous pity and sorrow.
At the moment when we invite the reader to enter this drinking shop with us the fun was at its height, the room was full of drinkers and dancers, and the whole mob laughed, yelled, and made a row which would have rendered the saint herself deaf. On the left, near the door, a man, wrapped up in a thick cloak, one end of which was raised to his face, and completely concealed his features, was sitting motionless at a separate table, looking absently and carelessly at the dancers who whirled round him. When a newcomer entered the tendajo, this man looked toward the door, and then turned his head away with an air of ill humour when he perceived that the newcomer was not the person that he had been so long expecting, for he had been sitting alone at this table for upwards of two hours. Still no one paid, or seemed to pay, any attention to him—all were too much absorbed in their own occupations to think about a man who obstinately remained gloomy and silent amid this revelry. The stranger, so often deceived in his expectations, at length gave up looking toward the door; he let his head fall on his chest and went to sleep, or pretended to do so, either for the sake of not attracting attention, or else to indulge with greater freedom in his reflections.
All at once a formidable disturbance broke out at one end of the room; a table was upset by a vigorous blow; oaths crossed each other in the air, and knives were drawn from boots; musicians and dancers stopped short, and a circle was formed round two men who, with frowning brows, eyes sparkling with intoxication and passion, a zarapé rolled as a buckler round the left arm, and a navaja in their right hand, were preparing, according to all appearance, to attack each other vigorously. The tendajero, or master of the house, then proved himself equal to the position he occupied—he leaped like a jaguar over the counter behind which he had hitherto stood coldly and indifferently, merely engaged in watching his waiters and serving customers; he closed the front door, against which he leant his powerful shoulders, in order to prevent any customer bolting without payment of his score, and prepared with evident interest to witness the fight.
The two men, with outstretched legs, left arm advanced, bodies bent forward, and knife held by the middle of the blade, were standing looking in each other's eyes, ready for attack, defence, or parry. All at once the mysterious sleeper appeared to wake with a start, as if surprised by the voice of one of the adversaries, took a hasty glance at the combatants, and then darted between them.
"What is the matter?" he asked, in a firm voice, the sound of which affected the duellists, who were astounded at an interference they had been far from expecting.
"This man," one of them answered, "has lost three ounces to me at monte, through the unexpected turn up of the ace of spades."
"Well?" the stranger interjected.
"He refuses to pay me," the gambler continued; "because he declares that the cards were packed, and that consequently I cheated him, which is not true, for—viva Dios;I am known to be a caballero."
At this affirmation, which was slightly erroneous, a smile of singular meaning, but which no one saw, curled the stranger's lip; he continued, in a more serious voice—"It is true that you are a caballero, and I would affirm it were it necessary; but the most honest man is subject to deceive himself, and I am convinced that this has happened to you. Hence instead of fighting with this caballero, whose honour and loyalty cannot either be doubted, prove to him that you recognise your error by paying him the three ounces, which you claimed of him through an oversight; this gentleman will apologize for having used certain ugly expressions, and all will then be settled to the general satisfaction."
"Certainly, I am convinced that this caballero is a man of honour; I am ready to proclaim it anywhere, and I regret with all my soul the misunderstanding which momentarily divided us," said the individual who had not yet spoken, though he remained on the defensive, a position that slightly contradicted the apparent good humour of his remark.
The stranger then turned to the man whose friend he had so unexpectedly made himself, and gave him a sign which the other appeared to understand.
"Well, caballero," he said, with an irony whose expression was hardly noticeable, "what do you think of this apology? For my part, I consider it complete and most honourable."
The man thus addressed hesitated for a moment; a combat was evidently going on in his mind; his furious glances seemed to challenge the company; and had he perceived on the face of one of the spectators an expression of contempt, however fugitive it might have been, he would doubtless have immediately picked another quarrel. But all the persons who surrounded him were cold and indifferent; curiosity alone was legible on their features. He unrolled his cloak, returned the knife to his boot, and held out his hand to his adversary at the same time that he gave him three ounces.
"Pardon me an involuntary error at which I am trully confused," he said, with a courteous bow, but with a sigh he could not restrain.
The other took the ounces without pressing, thrust them away in his capacious pockets with far from ordinary dexterity, returned the salute, and mingled with the crowd, who, through a lengthened acquaintance with the two men, did not at all comprehend this peaceful result.
"Now, Master Kidd," the stranger continued, as he laid his hand on the shoulder of the adventurer, who stood motionless in the middle of the room, "I suppose that all your business here is settled; so, with your permission, we will withdraw."
"As you please," Kidd answered, carelessly, for this man was no other than the bandit we came across in the opening of our story.
The groups had broken up, the crowd had dispersed, musicians and dancers had returned to their places, and the two men could consequently leave without attracting attention. The stranger, when he reached the purer atmosphere of the street, took several deep inspirations, as if trying to expel from his lungs the vitiated air he had been constrained to swallow for so long. Then he turned to his companion, who was walking silently by his side.
"¡Cuerpo de Cristo!Master Kidd," he said, in a tone of ill humour, "you are, it must be confessed, a singular fellow; you compel me, the commandant of this pueblo, to come and hunt you up at this filthy den, where, on your entreaty, I consented to meet you, and instead of watching for my arrival, you leave me among the most perfect collection of bandits I ever saw in my life."
"Excess of zeal, captain; so you must not be angry with me for that," the bandit answered, with a cunning look. "In order to be punctual at the rendezvouz I gave you, I had been for nearly four hours at worthy Señor Cospeto's. Not knowing how to spend my time, I played at cards. You know what month is; once I have the cards in my hand, and the gold on the table, I forget everything."
"Good, good," the stranger answered. "I am willing to believe you. Still, I pledge you my word, that if you dupe me in the affair you have proposed, and the information you offer to sell me is false, you will repent it. You know me, I think, Master Kidd?"
"Yes, Captain Don Marcos de Niza, and I suppose that you know me too; but of what use is this discussion? Let us settle our business first, and then you can act as you think proper."
The Captain gave him a suspicious glance. "It is well," he said, as he rapped at the door; "come in, this is my house; I prefer treating with you here to the tendajo."
"As you please," the bandit said, and followed the Captain into his house, the doors of which were closed behind them.
Captain Don Marcos de Niza, whom we left commanding the post of San Miguel, and defending it against the Indians, had been a few days previously summoned to the political and military government of the Mineral of Quitoval, by an order that arrived from Mexico, and emanated from the President of the Republic himself. The fact was, that during the last few days certain events had occurred which demanded energetic action on the part of the President. All at once, at a moment when no discontent was supposed to exist among the Indians, the latter, after long councils they had held together, revolted, and had, without any declaration of war, invaded the Mexican territory at several points simultaneously. This revolt suddenly assumed serious proportions; and had become the more formidable within a short time, because the revolters were the Gilenos, that is to say, the Comanches, Apaches, and Axuas, whose dangerous country is known by the name of the Papazos.
The General commanding Sonora and Sinaloa, the two states most exposed to the depredations of the Indians, saw that he must oppose to the Indians a man who, through a lengthened residence on the borders, had acquired great experience as to their way of fighting and the tricks they employ. Only one officer fulfilled these conditions, and that officer was Captain de Niza; he, therefore, received orders to quit the post of San Miguel after dismantling it, and proceed immediately to the Mineral of Quitoval. The Captain obeyed with that promptitude which old soldiers alone can display in the execution of the orders they receive. His first care, on reaching the Mineral, was to protect the pueblo, as far as was possible, from a surprise, by digging a large trench, throwing up entrenchments, and barricading the principal streets.
Unfortunately, the general commanding the provinces had but a very limited military force at his disposal; scarce amounting to six hundred infantry and two hundred cavalry, without field artillery. Hence, in spite of his lively desire to give the Captain a respectable force, as he was obliged to scatter his troops along the whole seaboard of the two states, he found it impossible to send to Quitoval more than one hundred infantry and fifty cavalry. In spite of the numerical weakness of his troops the Captain did not despair. He was one of those men to whom the performance of duty was everything; and who carry out without a murmur the most extraordinary order.
Still, as he expected to be attacked at any moment by an army of ten or fifteen thousand veteran Indians, amply supplied with firearms, and who, through being accustomed to fight with Spaniards, could not be easily terrified, he had to augment the number of his soldiers, so as to have men enough to line the entrenchments he had thrown up round the town. He had two means by which to obtain this result, and he employed them. The first consisted in making the great mine owners understand that they must participate in the defences of the pueblo, either personally or by arming and placing under his orders a certain number of the peons they employed; for if the Indians succeeded in seizing the Mineral, the source of their wealth would be at once dried up.
The great owners understood the Captain's reasons the more easily because their interests were at stake. They therefore enthusiastically followed his advice, and raised at their common charge a corps of one hundred and fifty Opatas—brave soldiers, thoroughly devoted to the Whites. They placed this corps under the Captain's orders, pledging themselves to pay and support it so long as the danger lasted. Don Marcos thus doubled his army at one stroke. This success, which he had been far from expecting, owing to his profound knowledge of the apathy and selfishness of his countrymen, induced him to try the second plan.
This was very simple. It consisted in enlisting, for a certain bounty, as many as he could of the adventurers who always swarm on the borders, and whose neutrality is at times more formidable than declared enmity. The sum offered by the Captain was two ounces per man, one payable on enlistment, the other at the termination of the campaign. This offer, seductive though it was, did not produce all the effect the Captain expected from it. The adventurers responded but feebly to the appeal made to them. These men, in whose hearts patriotic love does not exist, and who only care for pillage, saw in the insurrection of the Indians a source of disorder, and, consequently, of rapine. They cared very little about defending a state of things which their predacious instincts led them, on the contrary, to attack.
Thirty or forty adventurers, however, responded to the call; and these immoral men, who were impatient at the yoke of discipline, were rather an embarrassment than an assistance to the Captain; still as, take them altogether, they were sturdy fellows, and thoroughly acquainted with Indian warfare, he attached them to his cavalry, which was thus raised to a strength of one hundred men. Don Marcos thus found himself at the head of two hundred and fifty infantry and one hundred horse—a force which appeared to him, if well directed, more than sufficient to withstand, behind good entrenchments, the effort of the whole Indian army.
We are aware that this number of men defending a town will produce a smile of pity among European readers, who are accustomed to see on battlefields masses of three hundred thousand men come into collision. But all is relative in this world. In America, where the population is comparatively small, great things have often been decided at the bayonet's point by armies whose relative strength did not exceed that of one of our line regiments. In the last battle fought between the Texans and Mexicans—a battle which decided the independence of Texas, the two armies together did not amount to two thousand men, and yet the collision was terrible, and victory obstinately disputed. In the actions between white men and Indians, the latter, in spite of their indomitable valour, were almost always defeated in a pitched battle, in spite of their crushing superiority of numbers. Not through the courage of their enemies, but by their discipline and military skill. The latter is certainly very limited, but sufficient for adversaries such as they have to combat.
One night, when the Captain returned home after his usual visit to the pueblo to assure himself that all was in order, a ragged lepero, more than half intoxicated with mezcal and pulque, handed him with an infinitude of bows a dirty slip of paper folded up in the shape of a letter. Don Marcos de Niza was not accustomed to neglect anything. He attached as much importance to apparently frivolous events as to those which seemed to possess a certain gravity. He stopped, took the letter, gave a real to the lepero, who went away quite satisfied, and entered his house, which was situated on the Plaza Mayor, in the centre of the pueblo.
After throwing his cap and sword on a table, the Captain opened the letter. He read it at first rather carelessly; but ere long he began frowning, and read the letter a second time, attentively weighing each word. Then at the end of a moment he folded up the letter, and said in a low voice—"I will go."
This letter came from Kidd. The Captain had been long acquainted with the bandit, and knew certain peculiar facts about him which would have been most disagreeable to the bandit, had the latter suspected that the Captain was so thoroughly initiated in the secrets of his vagabond life. Hence Don Marcos fancied he had no right to neglect the overtures the other was pleased to make; while keeping on his guard and determined to punish him severely if he deceived him. The Captain, therefore, proceeded without hesitation to the place where the adventurer appointed to meet him. He had waited for him for several hours with exemplary patience, and would probably have waited longer still, had not chance suddenly brought them face to face in the way we have described.
When the two men had entered the house, and the door closed after them, Don Marcos de Niza, still closely followed by the bandit, who, in spite of his impudence, looked around him timidly, like a wolf caught in a sheepfold, led him into a room the door of which he carefully closed. The Captain pointed to a chair, sat down at a table, laid a brace of pistols ostentatiously within his reach, and said—
"Now I am ready to hear you."
"¡Caray!" the bandit said, impudently; "that is possible; but the point is whether I am disposed to speak."
"And why not, pray, my excellent friend?"
"Hang it, Captain," he said, as he pointed to the pistols, "there are two playthings not at all adapted to set my tongue wagging."
Don Marcos looked at him in a way that made the adventurer involuntarily let his eyes fall, and then leant his elbows on the table.
"Master Kidd," he then said, in a stern voice, though a certain tone of sarcasm was perceptible in it, "I like a distinct understanding; let us therefore, before anything establish our relative positions. You have led a very agitated life, Master Kidd; your vagabond humour, your mad desire to appropriate certain things to which you have a very dubious claim have led you into a few mistakes, whose results might prove remarkably disagreeable to you."
The bandit shook his head in denial.
"I will not dwell," the Captain continued, mockingly, "on a subject which must make your modesty greatly suffer, and will come at once to the motives of your presence here, and the positions we must hold towards each other. I am commandant of this pueblo, and in that capacity compelled to watch over its external safety as well as its internal tranquillity, I think you will agree with me."
"Yes, Captain," the bandit answered, somewhat reassured at finding the conversation turned away from such delicate topics.
"Very good; you wrote me this letter, appointing a meeting and offering to sell—that is your own word—certain most important information, as you say, for the continuance of the safety and tranquillity which I am bound to maintain. Another man might have treated you in the Indian fashion. After having you arrested, he would have ordered a cord to be fastened round your temples; or your suspension by your thumbs—as you have done yourself, if report be true, on various occasions with less valid reasons; and have so thoroughly loosened your tongue that you would not have kept a single secret back. I have preferred dealing with you as an honest man."
The bandit breathed again.
"Still, as you are one of those persons with whom it is advisable to take precautions, and in whom a confidence cannot be placed, as they would not scruple to abuse it on the first opportunity, I retain not only the right, but also the means of blowing out your brains if you have the slightest intention of deceiving me."
"Oh, Captain, what an idea! Blow out my brains!" the bandit stammered.
"Do you fancy, my dear Señor," the Captain continued, still sarcastically, "that your friends will pity you greatly, if such a misfortune happened to you?"
"Hum! to tell you the truth, I do not exactly know," the adventurer answered, with at attempt to jest; "people are so unkind. But, since you accept the bargain offered to you—for you do accept it, I think, Captain?"
"I do."
"What then, will you give me in exchange for what I shall tell you?"
"You sell; I buy; it is your place to make your conditions; and, if they are not exorbitant—if, in a word, they seem to me fair, I will accept them; so, speak, what do you ask?"
"¡Caray!Captain; it is a delicate question, for I am an honest man."
"That is allowed," Don Marcos interrupted him with a laugh. "Name your price."
"Fifty ounces; would that be too much?" the bandit ventured.
"Certainly not, if the thing be worth it."
"Then," Kidd exclaimed, joyfully, "that is understood, fifty ounces."
"I repeat, if it be worth it."
"Oh, you shall judge for yourself," he remarked, rubbing his hands.
"I ask nothing better but to buy, and to prove to you that I have no intention of cheating you," he added, as he opened a drawer and took out a rather heavy purse, "here is the amount."
And the Captain made two piles each of twenty-five ounces, exactly between the pistols. At the sight of the gold the bandit's eyes sparkled like those of a wild beast.
"¡Rayo de Dios!Captain," he exclaimed; "There is a pleasure in treating with you. I will remember it another time."
"I ask nothing better, Master Kidd. Now speak, I am listening."
"Oh, I have not much to say; but you will judge whether it is important."
"Go on; I am all ears."
"In two words, this is the matter; the Papazos have not elected a chief, but an emperor!"
"An emperor?"
"Yes."
"What do they assert, then?"
"They mean to be free, and wish to constitute their Independence upon a solid basis."
"Do you know this emperor?"
"I have seen him, at least."
"Who is he?"
"A man who is the more formidable because he appears to belong to the white rather than the red race; and is thoroughly conversant with all the means hitherto employed by the Indians."
"Is he young?"
"He is sixty; but as active as if he were only twenty."
"Very good; proceed."
"Is that important?"
"Very important. But not worth fifty ounces, for all that."
"The Yaquis, Mayos, and Seris have allowed themselves to be seduced, and have entered the Confederation. They have taken up again their old plans of 1827—you remember, at the time of their great revolution?"
"Yes; go on."
"The first expedition the Chief of the Confederation means to undertake is the capture of the Real de Minas."
"I am aware of it."
"Yes; but do you know, Captain, that the Indians have spies even among the garrison; that all is ready for the attack, and that the Papazos intend to surprise you within the next two days?"
"Who gave you this information?"
The bandit smiled craftily.
"What use my telling you, Captain," he answered, "if the information is correct?"
"Do you know the men who have entered into negotiations with the enemy?"
"I do."
"In that case tell me their names."
"It would be imprudent, Captain."
"Why so?"
"Judge for yourself. Suppose I were to tell you their names, what would happen?"
"¡Viva Dios!" the Captain sharply interrupted him. "I should shoot them like the miserable dogs they are, and to serve as a warning to others."
"Well, that is the mistake, Captain."
"How a mistake?"
"Why, yes; suppose you shoot ten men?"
"Twenty, if necessary!"
"Say twenty, it is of no consequence to me; but those who remain, whom neither you nor I know, will sell you to the Indians, so that the only result will be precipitating the evil instead of preventing it."
"Ah, ah!" the Commandant said, with an expressive glance at the bandit. "And what would you do in my place?"
"Oh, a very simple thing."
"Well, what is it?"
"I would leave the scamps at liberty to prepare their treachery, while carefully watching them; and when the moment for attack arrived, I would have them quietly arrested; so that the Indians would be surprised, instead of surprising us, and we should cheat the cunning cheats."
The Captain appeared to reflect for a moment, and then said—"The plan you recommend seems to me good, and for the present I see no inconvenience in carrying it out. Give me the names of the traitors."
Kidd mentioned a dozen names, which the Captain wrote down after him.
"Now," Don Marcos continued, "there are your fifty ounces, and I shall give as many each time you bring me information as valuable as that of today. I pay you dearly, so it is your interest to serve me faithfully; but remember, that if you deceive me, nothing can save you from the punishment I will inflict on you, and that punishment, I warn you, will be terrible."
The adventurer bounded on the money like a wild beast on a prey it has long coveted, concealed it with marvellous dexterity in his wide pockets, and said to the Captain with a bow—"Señor Don Marcos, I have always thought that in this world gold was the sovereign master, and that it alone had the right to command."
After accompanying these singular words with a smiling and almost mocking expression, Kidd bowed for the last time and disappeared, leaving the Captain to his reflections.
We will not return to Stronghand and José Paredes, whom we have left too long at the top of the hill. The night passed without any incident, the majordomo sleeping like a man overcome by fatigue; as for the hunter, he did not close his eyes once. The sun had risen for a long time; it was nearly nine o'clock, but the hunter, forgetting apparently what he had said to his comrade, did not dream of departure. José Paredes slept on. It was a magnificent day; the sky, swept by the night hurricane, was cloudless; the sun darted down its glowing beams; and yet the atmosphere, tempered by the storm, retained an agreeable freshness. The water was disappearing with a rapidity almost equalling that it bad displayed in rising, being drunk by the thirsty sand or by the hot sunbeams; the plain had lost its lacustrine appearance; and all led to the supposition that by midday the ground would be firm enough to be ventured on in safety.
As the canoe was unnecessary, the hunter did not try to get it down from the tree; with his back leant against the larch tree, his hands folded, and his head bowed on his chest, he was thinking, and at times taking an anxious glance at his sleeping comrade. At length the majordomo turned, stretched out his arms and legs, opened his eyes, and gave a formidable yawn.
"¡Caramba!" he said, as he measured the height of the sun; "I fancy I have forgotten myself; it must be very late."
"Ten o'clock," the hunter answered with a smile.
"Ten o'clock!" José exclaimed, as he leaped up; "And you have let me idle thus instead of waking me."
"You slept so soundly, my friend, that I had not the courage to do so."
"Hum!" Paredes replied, half laughing, half vexed; "I know not whether I ought to complain or thank you for this weakness, for we have lost precious time."
"Not at all; see, the water has disappeared; the ground is growing firm again, and when the great heat of the day is spent we will mount our horses and catch up in a few hours the time you are regretting."
"That is true, and you are right, comrade," said the majordomo, as he looked around with the practised glance of a man accustomed to a desert life. "Well, as it is so," he added, with a laugh, "suppose we breakfast, for that will enable us to kill some time."
"Very good," the hunter replied, good humouredly. They breakfasted as they had supped on the previous night. When the hour for starting at length arrived, they saddled their horses and led them down the hill; for the ascent which they had escaladed so actively by night, under the impulse of the pressing danger that threatened them, now proved extremely steep, abrupt, and difficult. When they mounted, Stronghand said—"My friend, I am going to take you to anatepetlof the Redskins. Do you consider that disagreeable?"
"Not personally, but I will ask what advantage my master can derive from it?"
"That question I am unable to answer at the moment. You must know, though, that we are taking this step on your master's behalf, and that his affairs, instead of suffering by it, will be greatly benefited."
"Let us go, then. One word, however, first. Are the Redskins, to whom we are proceeding, a long distance off?"
"It would be almost a journey for any persons but us."
"Hum!" said Paredes.
"But you and I," the hunter continued, "who are true guides, and who have also the advantage of being well mounted, will reach the village at three or four o'clock tomorrow afternoon at the latest."
"In that case it is not very distant."
"I told you so."
"And in what direction is the village?"
"You must have often heard it spoken of, if chance has never led your footsteps thither."
"Why so?"
"Because it is only a dozen leagues at the most from the Hacienda del Toro."
"Wait a minute," the majordomo said, frowning like a man who is collecting his thoughts; "you are right, I have never been to that village, it is true, but I have often heard it spoken of. Is not one of the chiefs a white man?"
The hunter blushed slightly.
"So people say," he answered.
"Is it not strange," the majordomo continued, "that a white man should consent to abandon entirely the society of his fellows to live with savages?"
"Why so?"
"Hang it! Because the Indians are devoid of reason, as everybody knows."
The hunter gave his companion a glance of indefinable meaning, slightly shrugged his shoulders, but made no reply; probably from the reason that he had too much to say, and considered the majordomo's rather heavy mind incapable of appreciating it. The day passed without any occurrences to interrupt the monotony of their ride, which they continued with great speed till night, only stopping from time to time to shoot a few birds for supper. Galloping, talking, and smoking, they at length reached the spot where they intended to bivouac. The road they had followed in no way resembled the one the majordomo had taken on leaving the hacienda, although they were returning in the direction of Arispe. This resulted from the fact that Paredes had kept in the regular road, while this time the two men rode Indian fashion, that is to say, straight ahead without troubling themselves about roads. They galloped on as the bird flies, crossing mountains and swimming rivers whenever they came to them, without losing time in seeking a ford.
This mode of travelling, generally adopted by the wood rangers of the savannah, where the only roads are tracks made by the wild beasts, would not be possible in civilized countries, where there are so many towns and villages; but in Mexico, especially on the Indian border, towns are excessively rare: by riding in this way distances are marvellously shortened and a considerable tract is covered between two sunrises. This is what happened to the two adventurers; for in one day they went a greater distance than Paredes had done in eight-and-forty hours, though he was well mounted. At night they camped in a wood beyond the Hacienda del Toro, which building they saw rising gloomy and tranquil like an eagle's nest on the top of its rock, and they passed close to it during the afternoon.
The country assumed a wilder and more abrupt aspect; the grass was thicker, the trees were larger, older, and closer together; it was evident that the travellers were at the extreme limit of civilization, and would soon find themselves in the Red territory, although nominally, at least on the maps, this territory figured among the possessions of the Mexican Confederation. This feature, by the way, is found everywhere throughout the New World. Even in the United States, which pretend, erroneously, we believe, to be more civilized than their neighbours, towns with high-flown names may be seen on the maps of their large possessions, which only exist in reality as a name painted on a solitary post, planted in the centre of a plain or on the bank of a river, without even a keeper to watch over the preservation of this post, which, worn by wind and sun, eventually disappears, though the town never sprung up in its place. During our travels we were too often the victim of this humorous Yankee mystification not to feel angry with this eccentric nation, which repeats to every newcomer that it marches at the head of civilization, and has a mission to regenerate the New World.
The two men, after lighting their watch fire, supped with good appetite, rolled themselves in their zarapés, and fell asleep, trusting to the instinct of their horses to warn them of the approach of any enemy, whether man or wild beast, that attempted to surprise them during their slumbers. But nothing disturbed them; the night was quiet; at sunrise they awoke, mounted, and continued their journey, which would only take a few hours longer.
"I am mistaken," the hunter said suddenly, turning to his companion.
"How so?" the latter asked.
"Because," Stronghand replied, "I told you yesterday we should not reach theatepetltill the afternoon."
"Well?"
"We shall be there by eleven o'clock."
"¡Caramba!That is famous news."
"When we have crossed that hill we shall see the village a short distance ahead of us, picturesquely grouped on the side of another hill, and running into the plain, where the last houses are built on the banks of a pretty little stream, whose white and limpid waters serve as a natural rampart."
"Tell me, comrade, what do you think of the reception that will be offered us?"
"The Papazos are hospitable."
"I do not doubt it; unluckily, I have no claims to the kindness of the Redskins. Moreover, I know that they are very suspicious, and never like to see white men enter their villages."
"That depends on the way in which white men try to enter them."
"There is another reason which, I confess, supplies me with reason for grave thought."
"What is it?"
"It is said—mark me, I do not assert it—"
"All right; go on."
"It is said that the Papazos are excited, and on the point of revolting, if they have not done so already."
"They rose in insurrection some days ago," Stronghand coolly answered.
"What?" the majordomo exclaimed, greatly startled, "and you are leading me to them?"
"Why not?"
"Because we shall be massacred, that's all."
The hunter shrugged his shoulders.
"You are mad."
"I am mad—I am mad!" Paredes repeated, shaking his head very dubiously; "it pleases you to say that, but I am not at all desirous, if I can avoid it, of thus placing myself in the power of men who must be my enemies."
"I repeat that nothing will happen to you.¡Viva Dios!do you fancy me capable of leading you into a snare?"
"No; on my honour that is not my thought; but you may be mistaken, and credit these savages with feelings they do not possess."
"I am certain of what I assert. Not only have you nothing to fear, but you will have an honourable reception."
"Honourable?" the majordomo remarked, with an air of incredulity; "I am not very certain of that."
"You shall see. Woe to the man who dared to hurt a hair of your head while you are in my company."
"Who are you, to speak thus?"
"A hunter, nothing else; but I am a friend of the Papazos, and adopted son of one of their tribes; and every man, though he were the mortal enemy of the nation, must for my sake, be received as a brother by the sachems and warriors."
"Well, be it so," the majordomo muttered, in the tone of a man forced in his last entrenchments, and who resolves to make up his mind.
"Besides," the hunter added, "any hesitation would now be useless and perhaps dangerous."
"Why so?"
"Because the Indians have their scouts scattered through the woods and over the plain already; they saw and signalled our approach long ago, and if we attempted to turn back, it would justly appear suspicious; and then we should suddenly see Indians rise all round us, and be immediately made prisoners, before we even thought of defending ourselves."
"¡Demonio!that makes the matter singular, comrade; then you believe we have been seen already?"
"Would you like to have a proof on the spot?" the hunter asked, laughingly.
"Well, I should not mind, for I should then know what I have to expect."
"Well, I will give you the proof."
The travellers had reached the foot of the hill, and were at this moment concealed by the tall grass that surrounded them. Stronghand stopped his horse, and imitated the cry of the mawkawis twice. Almost immediately the grass parted, an Indian bounded from a thick clump of trees with the lightness of an antelope, and stopped two yards from the hunter, on whom he fixed his black, intelligent eyes, without saying a word. The apparition of the Redskin was so sudden, his arrival so unexpected, that, in spite of himself, the majordomo could not restrain a start of surprise.
This Indian was a man of three-and-twenty years of age at the most, whose exquisite proportions made him resemble a statue of Florentine bronze; the whole upper part of his body was naked: his unloosened hair hung in disorder over his shoulders; his clothing merely consisted of trousers sewn with horsehair, fastened round the loins by a belt of untanned leather, and tied at the ankles. A tomahawk and a scalping knife—weapons which the Indians never lay aside—hung from his belt, and he leant with careless grace upon a long rifle of American manufacture. The hunter bowed, and after stretching out his arm, with the palm turned down and the fingers straight, said in a gentle voice—"Wah! The Waconda protects me, since the first person I see, on returning to my people, is Sparrowhawk."
The young Indian bowed in his turn with the native courtesy characteristic of the Redskin, and replied in a guttural voice, which, however, was very gentle—"For a long time the sachems have been informed of the coming of the Great Bear of their Nation; they thought that only one chief was worthy saluting Stronghand on his return. Sparrowhawk is happy that he was chosen by them."
"I thank the sachems of my nation," the hunter said, with a meaning glance at the majordomo, "for having designed to do me so signal an honour. Will my son return to the village with us, or will he precede us?"
"Sparrowhawk will go ahead, in order that the guest of Stronghand, my father, may be received with the honours due to a man who comes in the company of the Great Bear."
"Good! My brother will act as becomes a chief. Stronghand will not detain him longer."
The young Indian bowed his head in assent, leapt backwards, and disappeared in the thicket whence he had emerged, with such rapidity, that if the grass had not continued to undulate after his departure, his apparition would have seemed like a dream.
"We can now start again," the hunter said to the majordomo, who was utterly confounded.
"Let us go!" the latter answered, mechanically.
"Well," answered Stronghand, "do you now believe that you have anything to fear among the Papazos?"
"Excuse me; as you said, I was a madman to fear it."
They crossed the plain, following a wild beast track which, after numberless windings, reached a ford, and in about an hour they arrived at the bank of the river. Twelve Papazo Indians, dressed in their war paint and mounted on magnificent horses, were standing motionless and in single file in front of the ford.
So soon as they perceived the two travellers, they uttered loud shouts and dashed forward to meet them, firing their guns, brandishing their weapons, and waving their white female buffalo robes, which, by-the-bye, only the most renowned sachems of the nation have the right to wear. The two white men, on their side, spurred their horses, responding to the shouts of the Indians, and firing their guns. All at once, at a signal from one of the chiefs, all the horsemen stopped, and arranged themselves round the travellers, to act as an escort. The whole party crossed the ford and entered the village, amid the deafening shouts of the women and children, with which were inharmoniously blended the bark of dogs, the hoarse notes of the shells, and the shrill sounds of thechichikoues.