"How I love you, my dear father!" she said; "How I should like to see you happy! I have nothing to tell you, for you will not believe me; and what I might have to say is so strange and improbable, that you would not put faith in it."
"You see, child, that I was right."
"Wait a moment, father," she continued; "if I have nothing to tell you, I have a favour to ask."
"A favour!—yes, my dear."
"Yes, father, a favour; but what I desire is so singular—coming from a girl—that I really do not know how to make my request, although the thought is perfectly clear in my mind."
"Oh, oh, little maid," the Marquis said, with a smile, though he was much affected, "what is this thing which requires such mighty preparations? It must be very terrible for you to hesitate so in revealing it to me."
"No, father, it is not terrible; but, I repeat, it will appear to you wild."
"Oh, my child," he continued, as he shrugged his shoulders with an air of resignation, "I have seen so many wild things for some time past, that I shall not attach any importance to one now; hence you can explain yourself fully, without fearing any blame from me."
"Listen to me, father; the favour I have to ask of you is this—and, in the first place, you must promise to grant it to me."
"¡Caramba!" he said, good-humouredly, "you are taking your precautions, señorita. And suppose that I refuse?"
"In that case, father, all would be at an end," she replied, sorrowfully.
"Come, my child, re-assure yourself: I pledge you my word, which you ask for so peremptorily. Are you satisfied now?"
"Oh, father, how kind you are! You really mean it now. You pledge your word to grant me what I ask of you?"
"Yes, yes, little obstinate, I do pledge my word."
The girl danced with delight, as she clapped her pretty little hands, and warmly embraced her father.
"On my word, this little girl is mad!" the Marquis said, with a smile.
"Yes, father, mad with delight; for I hope soon to prove to you that your fortune has never been more flourishing than it now is."
"Why, her mind is wandering now."
"No, father," said Don Ruiz, who, with his eyes fixed on his sister, was listening with sustained interest, and was attentively following the play of her flexible face, on which the varied emotions that agitated her were reflected; "I believe, on the contrary, that Marianna is at this moment revolving in her mind some strange scheme, for carrying out which she requires full and entire liberty."
"You have read the truth, Ruiz. Yes, I have a great project in my head; but in order that it may be thoroughly successful, I must be mistress of my actions, without control or remarks, from eight o'clock this evening till midnight. Do you grant me this power, father?"
"I have promised it," Don Hernando replied, with a smile. "A gentleman has only his word; as you desire, from eight o'clock till midnight you will be sole mistress of the hacienda: no one, not even myself, will have the right to make a remark about your conduct. Must I announce this officially to our people?" he added, sportively.
"It is unnecessary, father: only two persons need be told."
"And who are these two privileged persons, if you please?"
"My foster brother Mariano, the tigrero, and José Paredes."
"Come, I see you know where to place your confidence. Those two men are entirely devoted to us, and this gives me trust in the future. Go on, my child; what must be done further?"
"These men must be provided with picks, spades, crowbars, and lanterns."
"I see you are thinking about digging."
"Possibly," she said, with a smile.
"Stories about buried treasure are thoroughly worn out in this country, my child," he said, with a dubious shake of his head; "all those that have been buried were dug up long ago."
"I can offer you no explanation, father. You are ignorant of my plan, and hence cannot argue upon a matter you do not know: moreover, you must make no remarks, and be the first to obey me," she said, with an exquisite smile. "You ought not to give an example of rebellion to my new subjects."
"That is perfectly true, my dear child; I am in the wrong, and offer you an ample apology. Be good enough to go on with your instructions."
"I have only a word to add, father. You and Ruiz must also provide yourselves with tools, for I expect you all four to work."
"Oh, oh, that is rather hard—not on me who am young," Don Ruiz exclaimed, laughingly, "but on our father. Come, little sister, do not expect such toil from him."
"I may have to lend a hand myself," Doña Marianna replied. "Believe me, Don Ruiz, you should not treat this affair lightly; it is far more serious than you suppose, and the consequence will be of incalculable importance for my father and the honour of our name. In my turn I will take an oath, since you refuse to believe my word."
"Not I, sister."
"Yes, Ruiz, you doubt it, although you do not like to allow it. Well, I swear to you and my father, by all I hold dearest in the world—that is to say, you two—that I am perfectly well aware of what I am doing, and am certain of success."
Such enthusiasm sparkled in the girl's brilliant eyes, there was such an expression of sincerity in her accent, that the two gentlemen at length confessed themselves vanquished; her conviction had entered their minds, and they were persuaded.
"What you desire shall be done, daughter," Don Hernando said; "and, whatever the result may be, I shall feel grateful to you for the efforts you are making."
Don Ruiz, by his father's orders, warned the majordomo and the tigrero, who was already preparing to return to the rancho. But so soon as the young man knew that his presence was necessary at the hacienda, he remained without the slightest remark, and delighted at having an opportunity to prove to his masters how greatly he was devoted to them. Then what always happens under similar circumstances occurred: while Doña Marianna was calmly awaiting the hour she had herself fixed for action, the Marquis and his son, on the other hand, suffered from a feverish curiosity, which did not allow them a moment's rest, and made them regard the delay as interminable. At length eight o'clock struck.
"It is time!" said Doña Marianna.
All southern nations are fond of shade, flowers, and birds; and as the heat of the climate compels them, so to speak, to live in the open air, they have arranged their gardens with a degree of comfort unknown among us. The Italians and Spaniards, whose houses, during the greater part of the year, are only inhabitable for a few hours a day, have striven to make their gardens veritable oases, where they can breathe the fresh evening air without being annoyed by those myriads of mosquitoes and gnats unknown in temperate climates, but which in tropical latitudes are a real plague. At midday they may be seen wheeling in countless myriads in every sunbeam. The Hispano-Americans especially have raised the gardening art to a science, being always engaged in trying to solve the problem of procuring fresh air during the hottest hours of the day—that is to say, between midday and three p.m., during which time the earth, which has been heated since dawn by the burning heat of a torrid sun, exhales deadly effluvia, and so decomposes the air that it is impossible to breathe it.
The Spanish language, which is so rich in expressions of every description, has two words to signify a garden. There is the wordjardín, by which is meant the parterre properly so called—the garden in which flowers are cultivated that in those countries grow in the open air, but with us only in hothouses, where they are stunted and decrepit; and, secondly, thehuerta, which means the kitchen-garden, the vineyard, and their clumps of trees, wide avenues, cascades, streams, and lakes—in a word, all that we, very improperly in my opinion, have agreed to call a park. The Hacienda del Toro possessed a huerta, which the Marquises de Moguer had in turn sought to embellish. This huerta, which in Europe would have seemed very large—for life among us has been reduced to the conditions of a mean and shabby comfort—was considered small in that country. It contained in all only thirty acres—that is to say, a surface of about twelve square miles; but this relative smallness was made up for by an admirable disposition of the ground, and an extent of shade, which had made a great reputation for the Huerta del Toro throughout Sonora.
At eight o'clock precisely the curfew was rung, as was the custom at the hacienda. At the sound of the chapel bell all the peons and vaqueros retired to their jacales in order to sleep. Paredes had placed sentinels at night on the walls ever since an attack from the Indians had been apprehended, and the precaution was the more necessary at this time, as there was no moon, and it is that period of the month which the Redskins always select to begin their invasions. When the majordomo had assured himself that the sentries were at their posts, he made a general inspection of the whole hacienda to have the lights extinguished, and then proceeded, accompanied by the tigrero, to the Blue Room, where Don Hernando and his son and daughter were assembled.
"All is in order,mi amo," he said; "everybody has retired to his jacal, the hacienda gates are closed, and the sentries placed on the walls."
"You are quite certain, Paredes, that no one is walking about the corals or huerta?"
"No one; I made my rounds with the greatest strictness."
"Very good; now, daughter, you can give your orders, and we are ready to obey you."
Doña Marianna bowed to her father with a smile.
"Paredes," she said, "have you procured the tools my brother ordered you to provide?"
"Niña," he answered, "I have placed six picks, six crowbars, and six spades in a clump of carob trees at the entrance of the large flower garden."
"Why such a number of tools?" she asked, laughingly.
"Because, señorita, some may break; the work we have to do must be performed quickly, and had I not taken this precaution, we might have met with delay."
"You are right. Follow me, señora."
"And the lanterns?" Don Ruiz observed.
"We will take them with us, but not light them till we reach the spot whither I am taking you. Although the night is dark, with your knowledge of localities we shall be able to guide ourselves without difficulty through the darkness. Our lights might be seen and arouse suspicions, and that is what we must avoid most of all."
"Excellently reasoned, daughter."
Doña Marianna rose, and the four men followed her in silence. They crossed the apartments instead of passing through thepatios, which were thronged with sleepers, and entered the huerta by large double doors, from which the garden was reached by a flight of steps. On leaving the Blue Room Doña Marianna took the precaution to blow out the candles, so that the hacienda was plunged into complete darkness, and all appeared asleep. The night was very dark; the sky, in which not a single star twinkled, seemed an immense pall; the breeze whistled hoarsely through the trees, whose branches rustled with an ill-omened murmur. In the distance could be heard the snapping bark of the coyotes, and at times the melancholy hoot of the owl arose in the dark, and broke the mournful silence which brooded over nature. This night was excellently chosen for a mysterious expedition of such a nature as Doña Marianna was about to attempt.
After an instant—not of hesitation, for the maiden, although her heart was beating loudly, was firm and resolute—but of reflection, Doña Marianna rapidly descended the steps and entered the garden, closely followed by the four men, who also experienced an internal emotion for which they could not account. They had gone but a few yards when they halted; they had reached the thicket in which the tools were concealed. The majordomo and the tigrero took them on their shoulders, while the Marquis and his son carried the lanterns. In spite of the darkness, which was rendered even more intense by the dense shadow cast by the old trees in the huerta, the young lady rapidly advanced, scarce making the sand creak beneath her little feet, and following the winding walks with as much ease as if she were traversing them in the bright sunshine.
The Marquis and his son felt their curiosity increase from moment to moment. They saw the girl so gay, and so sure of herself, that they involuntarily began to hope, although they found it impossible to explain the nature of their hopes to themselves. Paredes and Mariano were also greatly puzzled about the purpose of the expedition in which they were taking part; but their thoughts did not travel beyond this: they supposed that there was some work for them to do, and that was all.
The young lady still walked on, stopping at times and muttering a few words in a low voice, as if trying to remember the instructions she had previously received, but never hesitating, or taking one walk for another; in a word, she did not once retrace her steps when she had selected her course. Night, especially when it is dark, imparts to scenery a peculiar hue, which completely changes the appearance of the most familiar spots; it gives the smallest object a formidable aspect; all is confounded in one mass, without graduated tints, from which nothing stands out: a spot which is very cheerful in the sunshine becomes gloomy and mournful when enveloped in darkness. The huerta, which was so pretty and bright by day, assumed on this night the gloomy and majestic proportions of a forest; the fall of a leaf, the accidental breaking of a branch, the dull murmur of invisible waters—things so unimportant in themselves—made these men start involuntarily, although they were endowed with great energy, and any real danger would not have made them blench.
But darkness possesses the fatal influence over the human organization of lessening its faculties, and rendering it small and paltry. A man who, in the midst of a battle, electrified by the sound of the cannon, intoxicated by the smell of powder, and excited by the example of his comrades, performs prodigies of valour, will tremble like a child on finding himself alone in the shadow of night, and in the presence of an unknown object, which causes him to apprehend a danger which frequently only exists in his sickly imagination. Hence our friends involuntarily underwent the formidable influence of darkness, and felt a certain uneasiness, which they tried in vain to combat, and which they could not succeed in entirely dispelling, in spite of all their efforts. They walked on silent and gloomy, pressing against each other, looking around them timidly, and in their hearts wishing to reach as speedily as possible the end of this long walk. At length Doña Marianna halted.
"Light the lanterns," she said.
This was the first remark made since they left the Blue Room. The lanterns were instantly lighted. Doña Marianna took one, and handed another to her brother.
"Show me a light, Ruiz," she said to him.
The spot where they found themselves was situated at nearly the centre of the huerta; it was a species of grass plot, on which only stubbly, stunted grass grew. In the centre rose a sort of tumulus, formed of several rocks piled on one another without any apparent symmetry, and which the owners of the hacienda had always respected in consequence of its barbarous singularity. An old tradition asserted that one of the old kings of Cibola, on the ruins of which town the hacienda was built, had been buried at the spot, which was called "The Tomb of the Cacique" after the tradition, whether it were true or false. The first Marquis de Moguer, who was a very pious man, like all the Spanish conquistadors, had to some extent authorized this belief, by having the mound blessed by a priest, under the pretext—a very plausible one at that time—that the tomb of a pagan attracted demons, who would at once retire when it was consecrated.
With the exception of the name it bore, this mound had never been held in bad repute, and no suspicious legend was attached to it. It was remote from the buildings of the hacienda, and surrounded on all sides by dense and almost impenetrable clumps of trees. Persons very rarely visited it, because, as it stood in the centre of an open patch of grass, it offered no shelter against the sun; hence the place was only known to the family and their oldest servants.
"Ah! Ah!" said the Marquis, "So you have brought us to the cacique's tomb, my girl?"
"Yes, father; we can now begin operations without fear of being seen."
"I greatly fear that your hopes have led you astray."
"You promised, father, to make no remarks."
"That is true, and so I will hold my tongue."
"Very good, father," she said, with a smile; "be assured that this exemplary docility will soon be duly rewarded."
And the young lady continued her investigations. She looked attentively at every stone, seeming to study its position carefully, while comparing it with a point of the compass.
"In which direction does the clump of old aloes lie?" she at length asked.
"That I cannot tell you," said Don Ruiz.
"With your permission, I will do so," Paredes observed.
"Yes, yes," she said, eagerly.
The majordomo looked about for a moment, and then, placing himself in a certain direction, said,—"The aloes of Cibola, as we call them, are just facing me."
"Are you certain of it, Paredes?"
"Yes, niña, I am."
The young lady immediately placed herself by the majordomo's side, and bending down over the stones, examined them with extreme care and attention. At length she drew herself up with a start of joy.
"My father," she said, with emotion, "the honour of dealing the first stroke belongs to you."
"Very good, my child; where am I to strike?"
"There!" she said, pointing to a rather large gap between two stones.
Don Hernando drove in the pick, and, pressing on it forcibly, detached a stone, which rolled on the grass.
"Very good," said the girl. "Now stop, father, and let these young men work; you can join them presently, should it prove necessary. Come, Ruiz—come tocayo—come, Paredes—to work, my friends! Enlarge this hole, and make it large enough for us to pass through."
The three men set to work ardently, excited by Doña Marianna's words, and soon the stones, leaping from their bed of earth, began to strew the ground around in large numbers. Not one of the three men suspected the nature of the task he was performing, and yet such is the attraction of a secret, that they drove in their picks with extraordinary ardour. Ruiz alone possibly foresaw an important discovery behind the task, but could not have explained what its nature was. The work, in the meanwhile, progressed; the hole became with every moment larger. The stones, which had been apparently thrown upon each other, were not bound by any mortal, and hence, so soon as the first was removed, the others came out with extreme facility. Now and then the labourers stopped to draw breath; but this interruption lasted only a short time, so anxious were they to obtain the solution of the problem. All at once they stopped in discouragement, for an enormous mass of rock resisted their efforts. This rock, which was about six feet square, was exactly under the stones they had previously removed, and as no solution of continuity could be perceived, everything led to the supposition that this rock was really very much larger, and that only a portion of it was laid bare.
"Why are you stopping, brother?" Doña Marianna asked.
"Because we have reached the rock, and should break our picks, without getting any further."
"What! Reached the rock? Impossible!"
The Marquis leant over the excavation.
"It would be madness to try and get any further," he said; "it is plain that we have reached the rock." Doña Marianna gave an angry start.
"I tell you again that it is impossible," she continued.
"Look for yourself, sister."
The young lady took a lantern and looked; then, without answering her brother, she turned to Paredes and the tigrero.
"You," she said, "are old servants of the family, and I can order you without any fear of being contradicted; so obey me. Remove, as rapidly as possible, all the stones round that supposed rock, and when that is done, I fancy I shall convince the most incredulous."
The two men resumed work; and Don Ruiz, piqued by his sister's remark, imitated them. The Marquis with folded arms and head bowed on his chest, was overcome by such persistency, and began to hope again. Ere long the stones were removed, and the mass of rock stood solitary.
The young lady turned to the Marquis.
"Father," she said to him, "you dealt the first blow, and must deal the last; help these three men in removing this block."
Without replying, the Marquis seized a pick, and placed himself by the side of the workers. The four men dug their tools into the friable earth which adhered to the rock; then, with a common and gradual effort, they began raising the stone until it suddenly lost its balance, toppled over, and fell on the ground, revealing a deep excavation. At the sight of this, all uttered a cry of surprise.
"Burn some wood to purify the air," the young lady said.
They obeyed with that feverish activity which, in great circumstances, seizes on apparently the slowest natures.
"Now come, father," Doña Marianna said, as she seized a lantern and boldly entered the excavation.
The Marquis went in, and the rest followed him. After proceeding for about one hundred yards along a species of gallery, they perceived the body of a man, lying on a sort of clumsy dais, in a perfect state of preservation, and rather resembling a sleeping person than a corpse. Near the body the fleshless bones of another person were scattered on the ground.
"Look!" said the maiden.
"Yes," the Marquis answered, "it is the body interred under the tumulus."
"You are mistaken, father; it is the body of a miner, and the fancied tumulus is nothing but a very rich gold mine, which has remained for ages under the guard of this insensate body, and which it has pleased Heaven to make known to you, in order that you may recover the fortune which you were on the point of losing. Look around you," she said, raising the lantern.
The Marquis uttered a cry of delight and admiration, doubt was no longer possible. All around he saw enormous veins of gold, easy of extraction almost without labour. The Marquis was dazzled; weaker in joy than in suffering, he fell unconscious on the floor of this mine, whose produce was about to restore him all that he had lost.
While these events were taking place at the Hacienda del Toro, others of an even more important nature were being carried out at the Real de Minas. Kidd the adventurer, had scarce left Don Rufino Contreras, after the interesting conversations we have recorded, ere the senator made his preparations for departure, and at once set out for the Real de Minas, though careful to be accompanied by a respectable escort, which protected him from the insults of marauders. At eight a.m. of the following day the senator entered the pueblo, and his first business was to present himself to the town commandant, Don Marcos de Niza. The captain not only received him coldly, but with a certain amount of constraint. This did not escape the senator's quick eye, but he was not at all affected by it.
"My dear captain," he said, after the usual compliments, "I am pleased at having been selected by the Presidential Government as its delegate to the military authorities of the State of Sonora for two reasons, apart from the honour I shall acquire by accomplishing this confidential duty."
The captain bowed, but said nothing.
"The first of these reasons," the senator continued with his eternal smile, "is that I make the acquaintance of an excellent caballero in yourself; the second, that before being joined in the command with you, and desiring to make myself as agreeable to you as I could, I asked for the rank of lieutenant-colonel for you, a step which, between ourselves, you have long deserved, and I was so fortunate as to obtain it for you. Permit me to hand you the commission with my own hands."
And drawing from his pocketbook a large folded paper, he laid it in the hand which the captain mechanically held out. The senator had justly counted on the skilfully managed surprise. The captain, confounded by the tardy justice done him, could not find a word to answer, but from this moment Don Rufino's cause was gained in his mind; and unless some unforeseen event occurred, the senator was convinced that he had nothing now to fear from this man, whom he had cleverly managed to lay under an obligation, without it costing him anything. The truth was, that a few days previously the captain's nomination had reached the Governor of Arispe from Mexico; the senator accidentally heard of it, and offered to deliver it to the captain. As the governor had no reason to refuse, he entrusted the nomination to the senator, and he turned it to the good purpose we have seen.
"And now," he continued, cutting short the thanks which the new colonel thought himself bound to offer him, "permit me to change the conversation, my dear colonel, and speak to you about things which interest me privately."
"I am listening to you caballero," Don Marcos answered; "and if I can be of any service to you—"
"Oh, merely to give me some information," the senator interrupted him; "I will explain the matter in two words. I am, as you are probably aware, very intimate with a relative of yours, the Marquis de Moguer, and an alliance between us is being arranged at this moment."
Don Marcos gave a deep bow.
"Now," the senator continued, "the Marquis, as you of course know, has been seriously tried of late; in a word, between ourselves, he is almost ruined. Several times already I have been so fortunate as to render him important services; but, as you know, where misfortune is pressing a family, the best intentions often can only succeed in retarding an inevitable downfall. Being most desirous to save a man with whom I shall be probably closely connected within a few days, not merely by the ties of friendship, but also by the closer links of relationship, I have bought up all his debts; in a word, I have become his sole creditor, and that is as much as telling you that the Marquis does not owe a farthing now. The man whom I entrusted with this difficult negotiation will arrive immediately in this town, where I gave him the meeting."
"He arrived some days ago," the colonel remarked.
"Indeed!" Don Rufino exclaimed, affecting surprise, "It seems in that case that he has worked quicker than I expected. But that is a thousand times better, as I will claim a service at your hands."
"A service!" Don Marcos exclaimed, with instinctive distrust.
"Yes," the senator continued, tranquilly; "I hardly know how to explain it to you, for it is so difficult, however friendly you may be with a man whose daughter you are about to marry, to say to him 'You owed enormous sums; I have bought up your debts, here are the receipts; burn them, for you owe nothing now;' it would be looking so much like trying to impose conditions to act thus—in a word, to make a bargain—that I feel a repugnance from it; and if a common friend does not consent to come to my assistance in the matter, I confess to you that I am completely ignorant how I shall get out of the difficulty."
"What!" the colonel exclaimed, in admiration, "Would you do that?"
"I never had any other thought," the senator replied simply.
"Oh, it is a great and generous action, caballero."
"Not at all; on the contrary, it is quite natural. Don Hernando is my intimate friend; I am going to marry his daughter, and my line of duty is plain. I only did what anyone else in my place would have done."
"No, no," Don Marcos said, shaking his head with an air of conviction; "no, señor, no one would have acted as you have done, I feel certain. Alas! Hearts like yours are rare."
"All the worse, all the worse, and I feel sorry for humanity," Don Rufino said, as he raised his eyes piously to the ceiling.
"What is the service you expect from me, señor?"
"A very simple thing. I will give you in a few moments those unlucky receipts, which I will ask you to be kind enough to hand to the Marquis. You can make him understand better than I can the purity of my intentions in this affair; and, above all, pray assure him that I have not done it for the purpose of forcing him to give me his daughter's hand."
The senator went away, leaving the colonel completely under the charm. He proceeded hastily to the mesón where Don Parfindo was lodged; he took the receipts from him, rewarded him handsomely, and did not leave him till he saw him and his bailiff out of the pueblo; then he walked slowly back to the colonel's house, rubbing his hands, and muttering, with an ironical smile—
"I fancy that I shall soon have no cause to fear that worthy Señor Kidd's denunciations. By the bye, where can he be? His absence from Quitovar is not natural, and I must free myself from him at our next interview."
The senator's conversation with his agent had occupied some time, and when Don Rufino returned to the colonel's house, he found the latter busy in making known his new rank to his officers. The colonel eagerly took advantage of the opportunity to introduce the senator to them, and to tell them that Don Rufino was delegated by the Government to watch the operations of the army, and that hence they must obey him like himself. The officers bowed respectfully to the senator, made their bows, and retired. When the two gentlemen were alone again, the ice was completely broken between them, and they were the best friends in the world.
"Well," the colonel asked.
"All is settled," the senator replied, as he produced the vouchers.
"¡Caramba! You have lost no time."
"The best things are those done quickly. Take all these documents, and make what use of them you think proper. I am delighted at having got rid of them." While saying this, Don Rufino threw the papers on the table with an excellent affectation of delight.
"With your leave, caballero," the colonel said, with a laugh, "I will take these papers, since you insist on it, but I will give you a receipt."
"Oh, no," the senator exclaimed, "that would spoil the whole business."
"Still—"
"Not a word," he interrupted him, quickly; "I do not wish to have in my possession the shadow of a claim upon Don Hernando."
The colonel would have probably pressed the point, had not a great noise been heard in the anteroom, and a man rushed into the colonel's sanctum, shouting at the top of his lungs, "The Indians! The Indians!"
The colonel and the senator rose. The man was Kidd; his clothes were torn and disordered; his face and hands were covered with blood and dust, and all apparently proved that he had just escaped from a sharp pursuit. A strange uproar outside the house, which soon assumed formidable proportions, corroborated his statement.
"Is that you, Kidd?" the colonel exclaimed.
"Yes," he replied; "but lose no time, captain; here are the pagans! They are at my heels, and I am scarce half an hour ahead of them."
Without waiting to hear anything more, the colonel dashed out of the room.
"Where have you come from?" Don Rufino asked the bandit, so soon as he was alone with him.
The latter gave a start of disappointment on recognising the senator, whom he had not noticed at the first moment. This start did not escape Don Rufino.
"How does that concern you?" the adventurer answered, roughly.
"I want to know."
Kidd made a meaning grimace.
"Every man has his own business," he said.
"Some treachery you have been preparing, of course."
"That is possible," he replied, with a knowing grin.
"Against me, perhaps."
"Who knows?"
"Will you speak?"
"What is the use of speaking, since you have guessed it?"
"Then you are still trying to deceive me?"
"I mean to take my precautions, that is all."
"Scoundrel!" the senator exclaimed, with a menacing gesture.
"Nonsense!" the other said, with a shrug of his shoulders; "I am not afraid of you, for you would not dare kill me."
"Why not?"
"In the first place, because it would cause a row, and because I do not think you such a friend of the captain that you would venture to take such a liberty in his house."
"You are mistaken, villain, and you shall have a proof of it."
"Holloa!" the adventurer exclaimed, as he retired precipitately to the door.
But, with a gesture rapid as thought, Don Rufino seized one of Don Marcos's pistols, cocked it, and ere Kidd could effect the retreat he was meditating, he fired, and the adventurer lay on the ground with a bullet in his chest.
"Die, brigand!" the senator shouted, as he threw down the weapon he had used.
"Yes," the bandit muttered, "but not unavenged. It was well played, master; but your turn will soon arrive—"
And stiffening with a final convulsion, the ruffian expired, retaining on his features even after death an expression of mocking defiance, which caused the senator an involuntary tremor.
"What is the matter here?" the colonel asked, suddenly entering.
"Nothing very important," Don Rufino said, carelessly. "I was carried away by my passion, and settled this scoundrel."
"¡Viva Dios!You were right, señor; I only regret that you have anticipated me, for I have proofs of his treachery.—Ho, there! Remove this carrion, and throw it out," he shouted to some soldiers who accompanied him, and had remained in the anteroom.
The soldiers obeyed, and the adventurer's body was thrown unceremoniously into the street.
"Are the Indians really coming up?"
"The dust raised by their horses' hoofs can already be perceived. We have not a moment to lose in preparing for defence. I suppose I can reckon on you?"
"¡Rayo de Dios!! I should hope so."
"Come, then, for time presses."
Kidd had in reality prepared, with his usual Machiavelism, a new treachery, of which, unluckily for him, he was destined to be the first victim. The whole pueblo was in an uproar: the streets were crowded with soldiers proceeding to their posts; with women, children, and aged persons flying in terror; with rancheros, who arrived at a gallop to find shelter in the town, and heightened the general alarm by the terror depicted on their faces; cattle were dashing madly about the streets, deserted by their herds, who were compelled to proceed to the intrenchments; and on the distant plain the body of Indians could be seen through the dust clouds, coming up at headlong speed.
"They are numerous," the senator whispered to the colonel.
"Too many," the latter answered; "but silence! Let us look cheerful."
There were twenty minutes of indescribable anxiety, during which the defenders of the pueblo were enabled to examine their enemies, and form an idea of the terrible danger that menaced them.
Unhappily, the sun was on the point of setting, and it was evident that the Redskins had calculated their march so as to arrive exactly at that moment, and continue the attack through the night. The colonel, foreseeing that he might possibly be compelled to have recourse to flight, collected a band of fifty resolute horsemen, whom he gave orders not to leave the Plaza Major, and be ready for any eventuality. After their first charge the Indians retired out of musket range, and did not renew their attack. A few horsemen, better mounted than the rest, were scattered over the plain, picking up the dead and wounded, and capturing the straggling horses; but the colonel gave orders that they should not be fired at—not through humanity, but in order to spare his ammunition, of which he possessed a very small stock.
Night set in, and a deep gloom covered the earth; but the redskins lit no fires. This circumstance alarmed the colonel; but several hours passed, and nothing led to the possibility of an attack being suspected. Profound silence brooded over the pueblo and the surrounding plains, and the Indians seemed to have disappeared as if by enchantment. The Mexicans tried in vain to distinguish any suspicious forms in the darkness; they saw and heard nothing. This expectation of a danger, which all felt to be imminent and terrible, had something frightful for the besieged.
Suddenly an immense light lit up the plain; the black outlines of the Indians rose like diabolical apparitions, galloping in all directions; a horrible, discordant, and shrill yell echoed in the ears of the Mexicans, and clouds of blazing arrows fell upon them from all sides at once, while the hideous heads of the Redskins appeared on the crest of the entrenchments. Then, in the light of a forest, kindled by the Indians to serve them as a beacon, an obstinate hand-to-hand fight began between the white men and redskins.
The pueblo was captured; any further resistance became not only impossible, but insensate. Several houses were already ablaze, and in a few minutes the Real de Minas would only be one immense furnace. The senator and the colonel had fought bravely so long as a gleam of hope was left them and the struggle appeared possible. At this moment they thought of saving the few wretches who still existed, and had escaped the frightful massacre by a miracle. Collecting around them all the men they possessed, they dashed to the Plaza Major, where, in spite of the fight raging round them, the squadron picked by Don Marcos had remained motionless, and leaping on their horses, they gave the order to start. Then the little band rushed forward like a hurricane, overthrowing and crushing all the obstacles that stood in their way; and after losing one-third their number, the rest succeeded in leaving the pueblo, traversing the enemy's lines, and taking the road to the Hacienda del Toro, without any close pursuit.
The Marquis's faint lasted but a short time, thanks to the attentions his son and daughter paid him. He had scarce regained his senses ere he drew Doña Marianna gently to him.
"My dear child," he muttered, as he pressed her to his heart, "you are our saviour."
The girl, delighted with this praise, freed herself, with a blush, from her father's embrace.
"Then," she said, with a pretty toss of her head, "you now allow, I think, father, that I have really kept my word."
"Oh, my child," he said, with much emotion, as he looked around him in delight, "there are here fifty fortunes equal to the one I have lost."
The girl clapped her hands in delight.
"Ah, how happy I am! I felt certain that she would not deceive me."
This remark, which escaped from the fullness of Doña Marianna's heart, struck Don Hernando.
"To whom are you alluding, daughter? And who is this person who inspires you with such confidence?"
"The one who revealed the existence of this treasure to me, father," she answered.
The Marquis did not press her.
"Mariano," he said to the tigrero, "you will pass the night here; allow no one to approach this excavation, for it would be imprudent to let strangers know of the existence of such a treasure before we have time to take certain precautions indispensable for its safety."
"You can go without fear,mi amo," the brave lad answered; "no one shall approach the mine while I am alive."
"Besides," Don Hernando continued, "your watch will cease at sunrise."
"As long as you please,mi amo."
And the tigrero, collecting the tools and lanterns, installed himself in the excavation itself, a few yards from the body still lying on the dais.
The other four slowly returned to the hacienda, conversing about this marvellous discovery, which, at the moment when all seemed desperate, saved the family. In fact, the gold veins were so rich, that it would be possible to detach in a single day enough nearly to cover all the debts contracted by the Marquis. They re-entered the blue room; and though it was very late, not one of them felt the slightest inclination to sleep; on the contrary, they wanted still to converse about the mine.
"Well," the Marquis said, "you did not dream that so rich a mine existed on the estate; you allowed as much just now."
"In truth, father, someone was kind enough to give me the information by which I found it."
"But who can this person be, who is better acquainted than myself with a property which has been in the hands of the family more than three hundred years, and yet nobody suspected that it contained this treasure?"
"The probability is that the secret was well kept, father."
"Of course; but by whom?"
"By the old owners of the soil, of course."
"Nonsense! You are jesting, daughter. Those poor Indians disappeared long ago from the face of the earth."
"I am not of that opinion, father," Don Ruiz observed.
"The more so," Paredes struck in, "because I know for a fact that the tribe to which you allude still exists; it is one of the most powerful in the great confederation of the Papazos."
"And you know, father, with what religious exactitude the Indians preserve secrets confided to their conscience."
"That is true; but in that case some man must have spoken."
"Or some woman," Doña Marianna said, smilingly.
"Well, be it so—a woman," the Marquis continued; "that is already a valuable piece of news. I know that you have obtained your information about the mine from a woman, my child."
"Unhappily, father, I am prohibited from saying any more."
"Humph! Prohibited!"
"Yes, father. However, re-assure yourself: this mine is really yours—your lawful property. Its owner has freely surrendered it in your favour."
Don Hernando frowned with an air of dissatisfaction.
"Charity!" he muttered.
"Oh, no, but a gift you can accept, father, I swear to you. Besides, the person to whom you are indebted for it promised me to make herself known to you ere long."
On the next morning, by the orders of the Marquis, the majordomo selected ten confidential rancheros and peons from those who had sought shelter at the hacienda, and the work commenced at once. The mine had been abandoned exactly in the state in which it was when the body of the miner was found by the Indians; hence the mere sweepings formed a considerable amount, and at the expiration of four or five days the sum collected was sufficient, not only to pay off all the debts, but also to leave at the disposal of the Marquis a sum thrice as large as he owed. With the exception of the legitimate anxiety caused by the apprehension of an Indian attack, joy had returned to the hacienda; the Marquis had begun to smile again, and seemed younger—so great is the privilege of wealth to alter men. The first thought that occurred to the Marquis was to settle with his creditors, and determine his position.
"My dear child," he said one evening to Doña Marianna, at the moment when she was about to retire for the night, "you have not yet given me an answer on the subject of Don Rufino Contrera's request for your hand; but the week has long since passed. Tomorrow, Paredes is going to start to place in his hands certain letters of importance for the settlement of my affairs, and I wish to take advantage of the opportunity. What answer shall I give Don Rufino?"
The young lady blushed; but at length, subduing the trouble that agitated her, she said, with a slight tremour in her voice,—
"Father, I am doubtless highly honoured by this Caballero's demand; but do you not think as I do, that the moment is badly chosen for such a thing, menaced as we incessantly are by terrible dangers?"
"Very good, daughter; I do not at all wish to force your inclinations. I will answer the senator in that sense; but if he come himself to seek his answer, what shall we do?"
"It will be time enough to think of it then," she replied, with a laugh.
"Well, well, that is true, and I was wrong to dwell on the matter so. Good night, my child, and sleep soundly. As for me, I shall probably spend the whole night in my study with your brother, engaged with my accounts."
The young lady withdrew.
"Señor Marquis," said Paredes, suddenly opening the door, "excuse my disturbing you so late; but Mariano, the tigrero, has just arrived at the hacienda with his whole family; he is the bearer of such strange and terrible news, that you will perhaps sooner hear it from his lips than from mine."
"What does he say?" Don Ruiz asked, who entered the room at this moment.
"He says that the Indians have risen, that they have surprised the Mineral of Quitovar, fired the pueblo, and massacred all the inhabitants."
"Oh, that is frightful!" the Marquis exclaimed.
"Our poor cousin!" the young man added.
"That is true; our unhappy cousin commanded at the pueblo. What a horrible disaster! Send the tigrero in to me, Paredes; go and fetch him at once."
Mariano was shown in, and related in their fullest details, though with some exaggeration, the events recorded in our last chapter, which threw his hearers into a profound stupor. Among all the incomprehensible things which daily occur, there is one which will never be explained; it is the rapidity with which all news spreads even for considerable distances. Thus, the capture of Quitovar was unhappily only too true, and the details furnished by Mariano were substantially correct; but how could the tigrero have become acquainted with a fact that had happened scarce three hours previously, and at more than ten leagues from the hacienda? He could not have explained this himself; he had heard it from somebody, but could not remember whom.
This terrible news caused the Marquis to reflect deeply. Now that the roads were probably infested with marauders, and communication intercepted by the Indians, he could not think of sending Paredes to Hermosillo, and the journey had become literally impossible. He must busy himself without delay in organizing the defence of the hacienda, in order vigorously to repulse the attack which would, in all probability, not be long delayed. In spite of the advanced hour, all were at work in an instant at the Toro; the walls were lined with defenders, and reserves established in all parts of the hacienda.
The whole night was spent in preparations. About two hours after sunrise, at the moment when the Marquis, wearied by a long watch, was preparing to take a little repose, the sentries signalled the approach of a body of horsemen, coming at full gallop towards the hacienda. The Marquis went up on the walls, took a telescope, and had a look at them. After a short examination, he perceived that these horsemen were Mexicans, although, owing to the distance, he could not distinguish whether they were soldiers or rancheros. Still, he had all preparations made to give them a hearty reception, if they evinced a desire to halt at the hacienda, as the direction they were following seemed to indicate.
Some time elapsed ere these horsemen, who were climbing the hill, reached the hacienda gates. Then all doubts were removed: they were soldiers, and a few paces ahead of the troop rode Don Rufino Contreras and Colonel Don Marcos de Niza. But both leaders and soldiers were in such disorder, so blackened with gunpowder, so covered with dust and blood, that it was plain they had come from a recent fight, from which they had escaped as fugitives. Men and horses were utterly exhausted, not alone by the extraordinary fatigue they had undergone, but also by the gigantic struggle they had sustained ere they dreamed of flight. It was unnecessary to ask them any questions. The Marquis ordered refreshments to be served them, and beds got ready.
Don Marcos de Niza and the senator had hardly the strength to say a few words explanatory of the wretched condition in which they presented themselves, and yielding to fatigue and want of sleep, they fell down in a state of complete insensibility, from which no attempt was made to rouse them, but they were both carried to bed. The Marquis then withdrew to his room, leaving his son to watch over the safety of the hacienda in his stead, for in all probability it would be speedily invested by the Redskins.
At three in the afternoon a fresh band of horsemen was signalled in the plain. This considerable party was composed entirely of hunters and wood rangers. Don Ruiz gave orders to let them advance, for the arrival of these hunters, nearly one hundred in number, was a piece of good fortune for the hacienda, as the number of its defenders was augmented by so many. Still, when Don Ruiz saw them enter the track, he noticed such a regularity in their movements, that a doubt crossed his mind like a flash of lightning, and a thought of treachery rose to his brain. Hence he rushed to the outer gate of the hacienda to give Paredes orders not to open; but the majordomo checked him at the first word.
"You cannot have looked, niño," he said, "when you order such a thing."
"On the contrary, I do so because I have looked," he replied.
"Then you must have seen badly," the majordomo said; "otherwise you would have perceived that the horseman at their head is one of your most devoted friends."
"Whom do you mean?"
"Who else than Stronghand?"
"Is Stronghand coming with those horsemen?"
"He is at the head of the column, niño."
"Oh, in that case let them enter."
"Ah, I felt certain of it."
The hunters had no necessity even of parleying; they found the hacienda gates wide open, and rode straight in without drawing rein. Don Ruiz recognised Stronghand, who, on his side, rode up to him and held out his hand.
"Grant me one favour, Don Ruiz," he said.
"Speak," the young man answered.
"Two words of conversation in your sister's presence; but wait a moment, another person must accompany me, for reasons you will soon appreciate; this person desires temporarily to maintain the most inviolable incognito. Do you consent?"
Don Ruiz hesitated.
"What do you fear?" the hunter continued; "Do you not put faith in me? Do you believe me capable of abusing your confidence?"
"No; I do not wish even to suppose it, I pledge you my word."
"And I mine, Don Ruiz."
"Act as you think proper."
The hunter gave a signal, and a horseman dismounted and came up to them. A long cloak entirely covered him, and the broad brim of his hat was pulled down over his eyes. He bowed silently to the young man, who, though greatly perplexed by this mystery, made no remark; and after requesting the majordomo to take care of the newcomers, he led his guests to the room in which Doña Marianna was seated, engaged with her tambour-work. The young lady, on hearing the door open, mechanically raised her eyes.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, joyfully, "Stronghand!"
"Myself, señorita," the young man replied, with a respectful bow; "I have come to ask the fulfilment of your promise."
"I shall keep it, no matter what may happen."
"Thanks, señorita."
"Ruiz," she said to her brother, eagerly; "until further orders, my father must not know of the presence of these caballeros here."
"What you ask of me is very difficult, sister; think of the immense responsibility I assume in acting thus."
"I know it, Ruiz; but it must be, my dear brother, for my happiness is at stake," she continued, clasping her hands imploringly; "and besides, what have you to fear? Do you not know this hunter?"
"Yes, I know him; I am even under great obligations to him; but his companion?"
"I answer for him, Ruiz."
"You know, then, who he is?"
"No matter what I know, brother; I only beg you to grant what I ask."
"Well, for your sake I will be silent."
"Oh! Thanks, thanks, brother!"
At this moment a sound of footsteps was heard in the adjoining room.
"What is to be done?" the maiden murmured.
Stronghand laid his finger on his lips, and, leading away his companion—who, through the thick cloak he wore, resembled a phantom rather than a man—disappeared behind a curtain. At the same instant a door opened, and two persons entered. They were Don Marcos and the senator. They had scarce exchanged the first compliments with Don Ruiz and Doña Marianna, when the Marquis entered the room.
"You are up at last, I am happy to see," he said, cheerfully. "¡Viva Dios!You were in a most deplorable state on your arrival; I am glad to see you so fully recovered."
"A thousand thanks, cousin, for your hospitality, of which we stood in great need."
"No more about that; I am the more pleased at the chance which has brought us together, Don Rufino, because I intended to write to you immediately."
"My dear sir," the senator said, with a bow.
"Are you not expecting an answer from me?"
"It is so, but I did not dare to hope."
The Marquis cut him short.
"Let us come to the most important point first," he continued, with a smile. "Don Rufino, you have behaved to me like a real friend. By a miracle—for I can only attribute to a miracle the good fortune that has befallen me—I am in a position to arrange my affairs, and discharge my debt to you, although, be assured, I shall never forget the services you have rendered me, and the obligations I have contracted toward you."
The senator was so surprised, that he turned pale, and took a side-glance at the colonel.
"Obligations far greater than you suppose," the latter said, warmly.
"What do you mean, cousin?" the Marquis asked, in surprise.
"I mean that Don Rufino, unaware of the happy change in your fortunes, and wishing to save you from the frightful position in which you were, had bought up all your liabilities, and so soon as he had all the vouchers in his possession, he hurried with them to me, and implored me to destroy them. Here they are, cousin," he added, as he drew a bundle of papers from his pocket.
The various actors in this singular scene were affected by strange feelings. Don Ruiz and his sister exchanged a look of despair, for they understood that the Marquis would now be unable to refuse his consent to his daughter's marriage.
"Oh!" the Marquis exclaimed, "I cannot accept such an act of generosity."
"From a stranger, certainly not," Don Rufino remarked, in an insinuating voice; "but I flattered myself that I was not such to you, my dear sir."
There was a silence.
"What is going on at this moment is so strange; I feel taken so unawares," the Marquis presently continued; "my thoughts are so confused, that I must beg you, Don Rufino, to defer till tomorrow the remainder of this conversation. By that time I shall have been able to regain my coolness, and then, believe me, I will answer you in the way that I ought to do."
"My dear sir, I understand the delicacy of your remarks, and will wait as long as you think proper," the senator replied, with a bow, and an impassioned glance at Doña Marianna, who was pale and trembling.
"Yes," said the colonel, "let us put off serious matters till tomorrow; the shock we have suffered has been too rough for us to be fit for any discussion just at present."
"What has happened to you? The pagans have not seized the Mineral de Quitovar? Or at least I hope not."
"Yes, they have, cousin; the pueblo has been captured by the Redskins, sacked, and burnt. We had great difficulty in making our escape, and passed through extraordinary dangers ere we were so lucky as to reach your hacienda."
"That is disastrous news, cousin; I had been told of it, but was unwilling to believe it."
"It is unhappily but too true."
"Well, thank Heaven, cousin, you are in safety here. As for you, Don Rufino, I am happy that you escaped from the horrible massacre; you are not a soldier, you are—"
"An assassin!" a sepulchral voice suddenly exclaimed, and a hand was laid heavily on the senator's shoulder.
The company turned with horror. Stronghand's companion had let fall the hat and cloak that disguised him, and was standing, stern and menacing, behind the senator.
"Oh!" the latter exclaimed, as he recoiled with terror, "Rodolfo! Don Rodolfo!"
"Brother, do I see you again after so many years?" the Marquis said, joyfully, as he advanced towards the stranger.
"The great sachem," Doña Marianna murmured.
The sachem thrust back with a gesture of sovereign contempt the startled senator, and walked into the centre of the group.
"Yes, it is I, brother; I, the proscript, the disinherited, who enter the house of my father after an absence of twenty years, in order to save the last representative of my family."
"Oh, brother! Brother!" the Marquis exclaimed, sorrowfully.
"Recover yourself, Hernando! I entertain no feelings of hatred or rancour for you; on the contrary, I have always loved you, and though I was far away from you I have never lost you out of sight. Come to my arms, brother; let us forget the past, only to think of the joy of being reunited."
The Marquis threw himself into his brother's arms; Don Ruiz and Doña Marianna imitated him, and for some minutes there was an uninterrupted interchange of embraces among the members of this family, who had so long been separated.
"It was through me that you received the sum which Paredes was to receive at Hermosillo", Don Rodolfo continued; "to me you also owe the discovery of the gold mine which has saved you. But I have not come here solely to embrace you and yours, brother; I have come to punish a villain! This man," he said, pointing to the senator, who was trembling with rage and terror—"this man was my valet; in order to rob me, he attempted to assassinate me cowardly, treacherously, and behind my back. Such is the man whose dark machinations had succeeded in deceiving you, and to whom you were on the point of giving your daughter: let him contradict me if he dare!"
"Oh!" the senator muttered, with a furious gesture.
"Villain!" the Marquis exclaimed; "Help! Help! seize the monster!"
Several servants rushed into the room, but before they could reach Don Rufino the latter had bounded with a tiger leap upon Don Rodolfo, and buried a dagger in his chest. The sachem fell back with a cry of pain into the arms of his brother and his son. After the crime was committed, the assassin threw down his weapon, and said to the startled spectators, with an air of defiance and satisfied hatred,—
"Now you can do whatever you like to me, for I am avenged."
Two days had elapsed since the atrocious attack made by Don Rufino on Don Rodolfo de Moguer. The Papazos had captured the hacienda without a blow, as the gates were opened to them; for the stupor and terror of the Mexicans at this horrible crime were so great, that they forgot all precautions. But we must do the Redskins the justice of stating that, contrary to their habits, they committed no excesses in the hacienda, either by virtue of superior orders, or in consequence of the sorrow which the wound of their great sachem caused them. Doña Esperanza had arrived with Padre Serapio at the same time as the Indian warriors, and she and Doña Marianna did not leave the wounded man's bed.
Don Hernando was inconsolable, and the colonel could not forgive himself for having supposed for a moment that the senator was an honest man. The whole hacienda was plunged into sorrow, and Don Rodolfo alone watched death approach with a calm brow. Fray Serapio dressed his wound: his night was tolerably quiet, and in the morning the monk entered the wounded man's room. At a sign from Don Rodolfo his wife and niece, who had watched the whole night through by his bedside, withdrew.
"Now, padre," he said, when they left the room, "it is our turn."
And he helped him to remove the bandages. The monk frowned.
"I am condemned, am I not?" said Don Rodolfo, who attentively followed in the monk's face the feelings that agitated him.
"God can perform a miracle," the Franciscan stammered, in a faint voice.
The sachem smiled softly.
"I understand you," he replied; "answer me, therefore, frankly and sincerely. How many hours have I still to live?"
"What good is that, my dear, good master?" the monk murmured.
"Padre Serapio," the chief interrupted him, in a firm voice, "I want to know, in order that I may settle my affairs on earth, before I appear in the presence of God."
"Do you insist on my telling you the truth?"
"Pray do so—the entire truth."
The poor man stifled a sigh, and answered, in a voice broken by emotion—"Unless a miracle occur, you will give back your soul to your Creator at sunset."
"I thank you, my friend," the sachem said, his austere face not displaying the slightest trace of emotion. "Ask my brother to come here, for I have to talk with him. Keep back my wife and niece until I ask for them. Go, father; I will see you again before I die."
The worthy monk withdrew, choked with sobs. The interview of the two brothers was long, for Don Hernando had many faults to ask pardon for at the hands of him whose place he had taken. But Don Rodolfo, far from reproaching him, tried on the contrary to console him, by talking to him in a cheerful voice, and reminding him of the happy days of their childhood. He also thanked his brother warmly for having freed him from the heavy burden of supporting the family honour, and allowing him to live in accordance with his tastes and humour. Many other things were talked of, after which the Marquis retired, with pale brow and eyes swollen with tears, which he tried in vain to repress, that he might not sadden the last moments of the man whose great soul was revealed to him at this supreme moment—of the brother whom he had so cruelly misunderstood, and who had even sacrificed his life to insure his brother's happiness.
Doña Marianna and Doña Esperanza then returned to the dying man's room, followed by Padre Serapio, and a few moments after the Marquis came back, accompanied by Stronghand. The young man, in spite of his Indian education and affected stoicism, knelt down sobbing by his father's side. For some moments father and son talked together in a low voice; no one save God knew what words were uttered by these two men during the solemn interview.
"Come here, niece," Don Rodolfo at length said, addressing Doña Marianna.
The maiden knelt down sobbing by the hunter's side. The aged man looked for a moment tenderly at their two young faces, pale with sorrow, which were piously leaning over him; then making an effort to sit up, and supported on one side by his brother, on the other by Doña Esperanza, he said, in a voice that trembled with emotion—"Niece, answer me as you would answer God; for the dying, you know, no longer belong to this world. Do you love my son?"
"Yes, uncle," the maiden answered through her tears—"yes, I love him."
"And you, Diego, my son, do you love your cousin?"
"Father, I love her," the young man answered, in a voice crushed by emotion.
Don Rodolfo turned to his brother, who understood his glance.
"Bless our children, brother," he said, "according to the wish you expressed to me; Padre Serapio will unite them in your presence."
The wounded man stretched out his trembling hands over the two young people.
"Children," he said, in a powerful voice, though with an accent of ineffable tenderness, "I bless you; be happy."
And, crushed by the efforts he had been forced to make, he fell back in a half-fainting state on his bed. When he regained consciousness, through the attention of Don Esperanza and his niece, he perceived an altar by the side of his bed. On his expressing a desire that the ceremony should take place at once, Padre Serapio, assisted by José Paredes, who was weeping bitterly, read the marriage mass. After the nuptial benediction, Don Rodolfo received the last sacraments, amid the tears and sobs of all present.
"And, now, my friends," he said, "that I have accomplished my duties as a Christian and Spanish gentleman, it is time for me to perform my duties as an Indian chief; so allow the Papazo warriors to enter."
The doors opened, and the warriors entered: they were sad, gloomy, and thoughtful. The sachem had sat up to receive them, supported by his son Stronghand. The warriors silently surrounded the bed on which their venerated chief lay, among them being Sparrowhawk and Peccary. The sachem looked calmly round the circle, and then spoke in a calm and deeply accentuated voice:—
"The Master of Life has suddenly recalled me to Him. I did not fall in action, but beneath the dagger of a cowardly assassin. I regret leaving my nation before I had completed the task which I undertook for their happiness. What I had not time to do, another will doubtless terminate. My brothers must continue the war they have so happily and gloriously commenced; and though I am leaving them, my mind will remain among them. The warriors of my nation must never forget that the Master of Life created them free, and that they must live and die free. The Papazos are brave men, invincible warriors, and slavery is not made for them. On the point of appearing before the Master of Life, I implore the chiefs not to forget that the white persons who surround me form part of my family. If my brothers retain after my death any recollection of the good which I have continually sought to do them, they will be kind to the palefaces whom I love. I have only one more word to add: I desire to give back my soul to the Master of Life beneath the buffalo hide cabin of the warriors of my nation, and in the midst of my nation. I desire also that all the rites customary at the death of the chiefs should be performed for me."
A tremor of joy ran along the ranks of the redskin warriors on hearing the last words; for they had feared in their hearts that the sachem would wish to be interred after the fashion of the white men. The Peccary then replied, in the name of all—
"My father's wishes are orders for his children; never, so long as the powerful confederation of the Papazos exists, shall an insult be offered to the palefaces whom he loves. Our father can die in peace; all his wishes will be religiously carried out by his children."