There was a lengthened silence. The hunter was reflecting, while the Indian was apparently completely absorbed by his pipe. At last he shook the ash out of the calumet, thrust the stem through his belt, and turned to his host—
"The Walkon and the Maukawis," he said, "always sing the same song; the man who has heard them during the moons of spring recognizes them in the moons of winter, it is not the same with man; he forgets quickly; his heart does not bound at the recollection of a friend; and if he meet him again after many moons, his eyes do not see him."
"What does the Chief mean?" the Canadian asked, astonished at these words, which seemed to convey a reproach.
"The Wacondah is powerful," the Indian continued; "it is he who dictates the words my breast breathes; the sturdy oak forgets that he has been a frail sapling."
"Explain yourself, Chief," the hunter said, with great agitation; "the sound of your voice causes me singular emotion; your features are not unknown to me; speak, who are you?"
"Singing-bird," the Indian said, addressing the young woman, "you are thecihuatlof a Sachem; ask the great Pale hunter why he has forgotten his friend—the man who, in happier times, was his brother?"
"I will obey," she answered, in a melodious voice; "but the Chief is deceived; the great Pale hunter has not forgotten the Wah-rush-a-menec of the Snake Pawnees."
"Oh!" Tranquil exclaimed, warmly, "Are you really Black-deer, my brother? My heart warned me secretly of your presence, and though your features had almost faded from my memory, I expected to find a friend again."
"Wah! is the Paleface speaking the truth?" the Chief said, with an emotion he could not quite conceal; "Has he really retained the memory of his brother, Black-deer?"
"Ah, Chief," the hunter said, sadly; "to doubt any longer would be an insult to me; how could I suppose I should ever meet you here, at so considerable a distance from the wigwams of your nation?"
"That is true?" the Indian remarked, thoughtfully; "my brother will forgive me."
"What!" Tranquil exclaimed, "Is that charming squaw I see there, the Singing-bird, that frail child whom I so often tossed on my knee?"
"Singing-bird is the wife of a Chief," the Indian answered, flattered by the compliment; "at the next fall of the leaves forty-five moons will have passed since Black-deer bought her of her father for two mustangs and a panther skin quiver."
Singing-bird smiled gracefully at the hunter, and went on with her duties.
"Will the Chief permit me to ask him a question?" Tranquil went on.
"My brother can speak, the ears of a friend are open."
"How did the Sachem learn that he would find me here?"
"Black-deer was ignorant of it: he was not seeking the great Pale hunter; the Wacondah has permitted him to find a friend again, and he is grateful."
Tranquil looked at the warrior in surprise. He smiled.
"Black-deer has no secret from his brother," he said, softly; "the Pale hunter will wait; soon he shall know all."
"My brother is free to speak or be silent; I will wait."
The conversation ceased here. The Sachem had wrapped himself in his buffalo robe, and did not appear disposed, to give any further explanation at present. Tranquil, restrained by the duties of hospitality, which in the desert prohibit any interrogation of a guest; imitated the Chiefs reserve; but the silence had lasted but a few minutes, when the hunter felt a light hand laid on his shoulder, while a soft and affectionate voice murmured in his ear:—"Good morning, father."
And a kiss completed the silence.
"Good-morning, little one," the hunter replied, with a smile; "did you sleep well?"
"Splendidly, father."
"And you have rested?"
"I no longer feel fatigued."
"Good; that is how I like to see you, my darling girl."
"Father," the inquisitive maiden said, as she looked around, "have visitors arrived?"
"As you see."
"Strangers?"
"No, old friends, who, I hope, will soon be yours."
"Redskins?" she asked with an instinctive start of terror.
"All of them are not wicked," he answered with a smile: "these are kind." Then, turning to the Indian woman, who had fixed her black velvet looking eyes on Carmela with simple admiration, he called out, "Singing-bird!"
The squaw bounded up like a young antelope. "What does my father want?" she asked, bowing gently.
"Singing-bird," the hunter continued, "this girl is my daughter, Carmela," and taking in his bony hand those of the two women, he clasped them together, adding with emotion, "Love one another like sisters."
"Singing-bird will feel very happy to be loved by the White lily," the Indian squaw replied; "for her heart has already flown towards me."
Carmela, charmed at the name which the squaw with her simple poesy had given her, bent down affectionately to her and kissed her forehead.
"I love you already, sister," she said to her, and holding her by the hand, they went off together twittering like two nightingales. Tranquil looked after them with a tender glance. Black-deer had witnessed this little scene with that Indian phlegm which nothing even disturbs: still, when he found himself alone with the hunter, he bent over to him, and said in a slightly shaking voice,—
"Wah! my brother has not changed: the moons of winter have scattered snow over his scalp, but his heart has remained as good as when it was young."
At this moment the sleeper awoke.
"Hilloh!" Loyal Heart said gaily, as he looked up at the sun, "I have had a long sleep."
"To tell you the truth," Lanzi observed, "I am not an early bird either: but nonsense! I will make up for it. The poor beasts of horses must be thirsty, so I will give them water."
"Very good!" said Tranquil; "By the time you have done that, breakfast will be ready."
Lanzi rose, leaped on his horse, and seizing the lasso of the others, went off in the direction of the stream without asking questions relative to the strangers. On the prairie it is so: a priest is an envoy of God, whose presence must arouse no curiosity. In the meanwhile Loyal Heart had also risen: suddenly his glance fell on the Indian Chief, whose cold eye was fixed on him: the young man suddenly turned pale as a corpse, and hurriedly approached the Chief.
"My mother!" he exclaimed in a voice quivering with emotion, "my mother—"
He could say no more. The Pawnee bowed peacefully to him.
"My brother's mother is still the cherished child of the Wacondah," he answered in a gentle voice; "her heart only suffers from the absence of her son."
"Thanks, Chief," the young man said with a sigh of relief; "forgive this start of terror which I could not overcome, but on perceiving you I feared lest some misfortune bad happened."
"A son must love his mother: my brother's feeling is natural; it comes from the Wacondah. When I left the Village of Flowers, the old greyhead, the companion of my brother's mother, wished to start with me."
"Poor ño Eusabio," the young man muttered, "he is so devoted to us."
"The Sachems would not consent; greyhead is necessary to my brother's mother."
"They were right, Chief; I thank them for retaining him. Have you followed my trail from the village?"
"I did."
"Why did you not awake me on your arrival?"
"Loyal Heart was asleep. Black-deer did not wish to trouble his sleep: he waited."
"Good! my brother is a Chief; he acted as he thought advisable."
"Black-deer is intrusted with a message from the Sachems to Loyal Heart. He wishes to smoke the calumet in council with him."
"Are the reasons that have brought my brother here urgent?"
"They are."
"Good! my brother can speak, I am listening."
Tranquil rose, and threw his rifle over his shoulder.
"Where is the hunter going?" the Indian asked.
"While you tell Loyal Heart the message I will take a stroll in the forest."
"The white hunter will remain; the heart of Black-deer has nothing hidden from him. The wisdom of my brother is great; he was brought up by the Redskins; his place is marked out at the council fire."
"But perhaps you have things to tell Loyal Heart which only concern yourselves."
"I have nothing to say which my brother should not hear; my brother will disoblige me by withdrawing."
"I will remain, then, Chief, since such is the case."
While saying these words, the hunter resumed his seat, and said: "Speak, Chief, I am listening."
The methodical Indian drew out his calumet, and, to display the importance of the commission with which he was entrusted, instead of filling it with ordinary tobacco, he placed in itmorhichee, or sacred tobacco, which he produced from a little parchment bag he took from the pouch all Indians wear when travelling, and which contains their medicine bag, and the few articles indispensable for a long journey. When the calumet was filled, he lit it from a coal he moved from the fire by the aid of a medicine rod, decorated with feathers and bills.
These extraordinary preparations led the hunters to suppose that Black-deer was really the bearer of important news, and they prepared to listen to him with all proper gravity. The Sachem inhaled two or three whiffs of smoke, then passed the calumet to Tranquil, who, after performing the same operation, handed it to Loyal Heart. The calumet went the round thus, until all the tobacco was consumed.
During this ceremony, which is indispensable at every Indian council, the three men remained silent. When the pipe was out, the Chief emptied the ash into the fire, while muttering a few unintelligible words, which, however, were probably an invocation to the Great Spirit; he then thrust the pipe in his girdle, and after reflecting for some moments, rose and began speaking.
"Loyal Heart," he said, "you left the Village of Flowers to follow the hunting path at daybreak of the third sun of the moon of the falling leaves; thirty suns have passed since that period, and we are hardly at the beginning of the moon of the passing game. Well, during so short a period many things have occurred, which demand your immediate presence, in the tribe of which you are one of the adopted sons. The war hatchet, so deeply buried for ten moons between the prairie Comanches and the Buffalo Apaches, has suddenly been dug up in full council, and the Apaches are preparing to follow the war trail, under the orders of the wisest and most experienced Chiefs of the nation. Shall I tell you the new insults the Apaches have dared to offer your Comanche fathers? What good would it be? Your heart is strong, you will obey the orders of your fathers, and fight for them."
Loyal Heart bowed his head in assent.
"No one doubted you," the Chief continued; "still, for a war against the Apaches, the Sachems would not have claimed your help; the Apaches are chattering old women, whom Comanche children can drive off with their dog-whips; but the situation has all at once become complicated, and it is more your presence at the council of the nation than the aid of your arm, though you are a terrible warrior, which your fathers desire. The Long knives of the East and the Yoris have also dug up the hatchet, and both have offered to treat with the Comanches. An alliance with the Palefaces is not very agreeable to Redskins; still, their anxiety is great, as they do not know which side to take, or which party to protect."
Black-deer was silent.
"The situation is, indeed, grave," Loyal Heart answered; "it is even critical."
"The Chiefs, divided in opinion, and not knowing which is the better," Black-deer continued, "sent me off in all haste to find my brother, whose wisdom they are aware of, and promise to follow his advice."
"I am very young," Loyal Heart answered, "to venture to give my advice in such a matter, and settle so arduous a question. The Comanche nation is the queen of the prairies; its Chiefs are all experienced warriors; they will know better than I how to form a decision which will at once protect the interests and honour of the nation."
"My brother is young, but wisdom speaks by his mouth. The Wacondah breathes in his heart the words his lips utter; all the Chiefs feel for him the respect he deserves."
The young man shook his head, as if protesting against such a mark of deference. "Since you insist," he said, "I will speak; but I will not give my opinion till I have heard that of this hunter, who is better acquainted with the desert than I am."
"Wah!" said Black-deer, "the Pale hunter is wise; his advice must be good; a Chief is listening to him."
Thus compelled to explain his views, Tranquil had involuntarily to take part in the discussion; but he did not feel at all inclined to take on himself the responsibility of the heavy burden which Loyal Heart tried to throw off his own shoulders. Still, he was too thoroughly a man of the desert to refuse giving his opinion in council, especially upon so important a question. After reflecting for some moments, he therefore at length decided on speaking.
"The Comanches are the most terrible warriors of the prairie," he said, "no one must try to invade their hunting grounds; if they make war with the Apaches, who are vagabond and cowardly thieves, they are in the right to do so; but for what good object would they interfere in the quarrels of the Palefaces? Whether Yoris or Long knives, the Whites have ever been, at all times, and under all circumstances, the obstinate enemies of the Redskins, killing them wherever they may find them, under the most futile pretexts, and for the most time simply because they are Indians. When the coyotes are tearing each other asunder on the prairie, do the Indians try to separate them? No. They say, let them fight it out—the more that fall, the fewer thieves and plunderers will there be in the desert. To the Redskins the Palefaces are coyotes thirsting for blood. The Comanches should leave them to devour each other; whichever party triumph, those who have been killed will be so many enemies the fewer for the Indians. This war between the Palefaces has been going on for two years, implacably and obstinately. Up to the present the Comanches have remained neutral; why should they interfere now? However great the advantages offered them may be, they will not be equivalent to a neutrality, which will render them stronger and more dangerous in the sight of the Whites. I have spoken."
"Yes," Loyal Heart said, "you have spoken well, Tranquil. The opinion you have offered is the only one the Comanches ought to follow, an interference on their part would be an act of deplorable folly, which the Sachems would soon regret having committed."
Black-deer had carefully listened to the Canadian's speech, and it appeared to have produced a certain impression on him; he listened in the same way to Loyal Heart, and when the latter had ceased speaking, the Chief remained thoughtful for a while, and then replied—
"I am pleased with the words of my brothers, for they prove to me that I regarded the situation correctly. I gave the council of the Chiefs the same advice my brothers just offered. My brothers have spoken like wise men, I thank them."
"I am ready to support in council," Loyal Heart remarked, "the opinions the white hunter has offered, for they are the only ones which should prevail."
"I think so too. Loyal Heart will accompany the Chief to the callis of the nation?"
"It is my intention to start on my return tomorrow; if my brother can wait till then, we will start together."
"I will wait."
"Good; tomorrow at daybreak we will follow the return trail in company."
The council was over, yet Tranquil tried vainly to explain to himself how it was that Black-deer, whom he had left among the Snake Pawnees, could now be an influential Chief of the Comanche nation; and the connection between Loyal Heart and the Chief perplexed him not a bit less. All these ideas troubled the hunter's head, and he promised himself on the first opportunity to ask Black-deer for the history of his life since their separation.
As soon as Lanzi returned with the horses, the hunters and Carmela sat down to breakfast, waited on by Singing-bird, who performed her duties with extreme grace.
The meal did not take long; each of the guests, busied with secret thoughts, ate quietly and silently. Tranquil, though he did not dare ask any questions of Black-deer or Loyal Heart, for all that, burned to learn by what concourse of extraordinary events these two men, who had started from diametrically opposite points, had eventually grown into such close intimacy.
Nor did he understand any better how a white man of a pure race, young, and who appeared to have received a certain education, had so completely given up relations with men of his ideas, to adopt, as Loyal Heart had done, the mode of life of the Redskins, and become, as it were, a part of one of these nations.
But the tiger killer was too well acquainted with prairie manners to try and lead the conversation to a topic which might perhaps have displeased his comrades, and which, at any rate, would have displayed a curiosity on his part unworthy of an old wood ranger; he therefore contented himself with cudgelling his brains to try and strike a spark which might guide him to the discovery of the truth, without permitting himself the slightest allusion to a subject which he longed to know all about.
Carmela felt a great friendship for Singing-bird, and so soon as the meal was ended, led her off to the jacal, where both began chattering. In accordance with the arrangements the hunters had made, Loyal Heart and Tranquil took their rifles, and entered the forest on opposite sides, to go in quest of game. Black-deer and Lanzi remained behind to protect the women in the slightly probable event of an attack.
The two men, lying on the ground side by side, slept or smoked with that apathy and careless indolence peculiar to men who despise talking for the sake of talking, and thus expending energy which they may require at any moment. Several hours passed away thus, nothing occurring to trouble the calmness and silence that reigned over the bivouac, except at intervals the joyous laughter of the two young women, which vibrated harmoniously on the ears of the hunters, and brought a slight smile to their lips.
A little before sunset the hunters returned, almost simultaneously, bending beneath the weight of the game they had killed. Loyal Heart, moreover, had lassoed a horse, which he brought in for Black-deer, who had not one. The sight of this animal caused the adventurers some alarm, and numerous conjectures. It was not at all wild; it had allowed Loyal Heart to approach it without difficulty, who made a prisoner of it almost without opposition. Moreover, and this increased the restlessness of its new owners, it was completely equipped in the Mexican fashion.
Tranquil concluded from this, after reflecting for a moment, that the freebooters had attacked the conducta de plata, and the animal, whose rider had probably been killed, had escaped during the action. But which side had gained the day, no one was able to conjecture.
After a rather lengthy discussion, it was at last agreed that so soon as night had completely set in, Black-deer should go reconnoitring, while those who remained in the camp redoubled their vigilance, through fear of a surprise, either from the border ruffians or the Mexican soldiers; for although the adventurers were known to both parties, they justly feared the excesses to which they might give way in the intoxication of victory.
This fear, correct perchance as far as the troops were concerned, was not at all so with the men commanded by the Jaguar, and merely proved that the worst, and at the same time most erroneous opinion was entertained of them.
The sun was just disappearing behind the dense mass of lofty mountains that marked the horizon, when the hurried paces of a horse were heard a short distance off. The hunters seized their weapons, and posted themselves behind the enormous boles of the sumach trees that surrounded them, in order to be ready for any event. At this moment the cry of the blue jay was repeated twice.
"Take your places again at the fire," Tranquil said, "'tis a friend."
In fact, a few moments later, the branches cracked, the shrubs were smartly thrust aside, and Quoniam made his appearance. After nodding to the company, he dismounted, and sat down by the side of the Panther-killer.
"Well, gossip," the latter asked him at once; "what news have you?"
"Plenty," he answered.
"Then, I suppose, you have been reconnoitring?"
"I did not have the trouble to ask questions; I only required to listen in order to learn in an hour more news than I could have discovered in a year."
"Oh, oh," the Canadian said, "eat something, compadre, and when your appetite is satisfied, you will tell us all you have learnt."
"I wish for nothing better, especially as there are sundry matters it is as well for you to know."
"Eat then without further delay, that you may be able to talk to us all the sooner."
The Negro did not let the invitation be repeated, and began vigorously attacking the provisions which Tranquil had put aside, and which Loyal Heart now spread on the ground. The hunters were eager to hear the news of which Quoniam stated himself to be the bearer; after all they had been able to see during the past few days, they must possess considerable importance. Still, however great their curiosity might be, they succeeded in hiding it, and patiently waited till the Negro had finished his meal. The latter, who suspected what thoughts were crossing their minds, did not put their patience to a long trial; he ate with the proverbial rapidity of hunters, and had finished in a twinkling.
"Now I am quite at your service," he said, as he wiped his mouth on the skirt of his hunting shirt, "and ready to answer all your questions."
"We have none to ask you," Tranquil said; "we wish you, gossip, to give us a short narrative of all that has happened to you."
"Yes, I fancy that will be the best; in that way it will be clearer and more easy for you to show the conclusions you think the most suitable."
"Excellently reasoned, my friend; we are listening to you."
"Do you know why I left you?" Quoniam began.
"Yes, I was told, and approved of it highly."
"All the better, because I fancied for a moment that I did wrong in going without informing you, and I was on the point of returning."
"You would have done wrong."
"At present I am convinced of that, and congratulate myself on having pushed forward. It is not a long ride from here to the Larch-tree hacienda in a straight line; my horse is good; I went straight ahead, and covered the distance in eight hours."
"That was good riding."
"Was it not? But I was in a hurry to join you again, and most anxious not to lose any time on the road. When I reached the Larch-tree, there was a great confusion at the hacienda. The peons and vaqueros collected in the patio were talking and shouting all together, while the Capataz, the Major-domo, and even the Signor Haciendero himself, pale and alarmed, were distributing arms, raising barricades before the gates, placing cannon on their carriages—in short, taking all the precautions of men who expect an attack at any moment. It was impossible for me to make myself heard at first, for everybody was speaking at once—women crying, children screaming, and men swearing. I might have fancied myself in a madhouse, so noisy and terrified did I find everybody; at length, however, by going from one to the other, questioning this man, and bullying that one, I learned the following, which enabled me to comprehend the general terror; the affair, I swear to you, was worth the trouble."
"Out with it, friend," Loyal Heart exclaimed, with ill-restrained impatience.
Quoniam had never during life raised any pretensions to be an orator. The worthy Negro, who was naturally very modest, even experienced a certain difficulty in speaking at all. The hunter's unexpected interruption troubled him so that he stopped short, and was unable to find a single word. Tranquil, who had so long known his comrade, hastily interposed.
"Let him tell his story in his own way," he said to Loyal Heart; "if not, it will be impossible for him to reach the end. Quoniam has a way of telling things peculiar to himself; if interrupted, he loses the thread of his ideas, and then he grows confused."
"That is true," said the Negro; "I do not know whence it comes, but it is stronger than I: when I am stopped, it is all up with me, and I get in such a tangle that I cannot find my way out."
"That arises from your modesty, my friend."
"Do you think so?"
"I am sure of it, so do not alarm yourself any more, but go on in the full confidence that you will meet with no further interruption."
"I am most ready to go on, but I have forgotten where I left off."
"At the information you had succeeded in obtaining," Tranquil said, giving Loyal Heart a look which the latter understood.
"That is true: this, then, is what I learned:—The conducta de plata, escorted by Captain Melendez, was attacked by the Border Rifles, or the Freebooters as they are now called, and after a desperate fight, all the Mexicans were killed."
"Ah!" Tranquil exclaimed, in stupor.
"All," Quoniam repeated; "not one escaped; it must have been a frightful butchery."
"Speak lower, my friend," the hunter remarked, as he looked in the direction of the jacal, "Carmela might hear you."
The Negro gave a nod of assent.
"But," he continued, in a lower key, "this victory was not very productive to the Borderers, for the Mexicans had been careful to hurl the gold they carried into a barranca, whence it was impossible to get it out."
"Well played, by Heaven!" the Canadian exclaimed; "The Captain is a brave fellow."
"Was so, you mean," said Quoniam.
"That is true," the Canadian remarked, sadly; "but go on, my friend."
"This victory fired the mine; the whole of Texas has risen; the towns and pueblos are in full revolt, and the Mexicans are pursued like wild beasts."
"Is it so serious as that?"
"Much more than you suppose. The Jaguar is at this moment at the head of a real army; he has hoisted the flag of Texan independence, and sworn that he will not lay down arms till he has restored liberty to his country, and driven the last Mexican beyond the frontier."
There was a moment of stupor among his audience.
"Is that all?" Tranquil at length asked.
"Not yet," Quoniam made answer.
"Have you further bad news to tell us?"
"You shall judge for yourself, my friend, when I have told you all I know."
"Speak, then, in heaven's name!"
"This is the information I have picked up. Considering that you would not be sorry to hear these important news as speedily as possible, I hastened to finish my business with the Capataz. I had some difficulty in finding him, as he was so busy; so soon as I got hold of him, instead of giving me the money I asked him for, he answered me that I must be off at once, and tell you to come to the hacienda as soon as you could, for, under the circumstances, your presence there was indispensable."
"Hum!" said Tranquil, without any further explanation of his thoughts.
"Seeing," Quoniam went on, "that there was nothing more to expect of the Capataz, I took leave of him and remounted my horse; but just as I was leaving, a great noise was heard outside, and everybody rushed to the gates, uttering shouts of joy. It seems that General Don José Maria Rubio, who commands the province, considers that the position of the hacienda is a very important point to defend."
"Of course," Tranquil said; "the Larch-tree commands the entrance of the valley, and as long as it remains in the power of the Mexicans, insures the entry of their troops into the state."
"That is it, though I do not remember the term they employed."
"Was it, strategetical position?"
"The very thing."
"Yes, the hacienda, built at the period of the conquest, is a perfect fortress; its thick, battlemented walls, its situation on an elevation which cannot be commanded, and which on one side holds under its guns the mountain passes, and on the other the valley de los Almendrales, render it a point of the utmost importance, which can only be carried by a regular seige."
"That is what everybody said down there; it seems, too, that such is General Rubio's opinion, for the cause of all the disturbance I heard was the arrival of a large body of troops commanded by a Lieutenant Colonel, who had orders to shut himself up in the hacienda, and defend it to the last extremity."
"In that case war is declared?"
"Of course."
"Civil war," Tranquil continued, mournfully, "that is to say, the most odious and horrible of all; a war in which fathers fight against sons, brothers against brothers, in which friend and foe speak the same tongue, issue from the same stem, have the same blood in their veins, and through that very reason are the more inveterate and rend each other with greater animosity and rage; civil war, the most horrible scourge that can crush a people! May God grant in his mercy that it be short; but, since divine patience is at length wearied, and the Omnipotent has permitted this fratricidal struggle, let us hope that right and justice may remain victorious, and that the oppressors, who are the cause of all these misfortunes, may be for ever expelled from a territory which they have too long sullied by their unworthy and odious presence."
"May God grant it!" his hearers replied, in a deep voice.
"But how did you succeed in escaping from the hacienda after the arrival of the troops, Quoniam?" Tranquil continued.
"I saw that, if I amused myself by admiring the uniform and fine appearance of the troops, when order was slightly restored, the gates would be closed, and my hopes of escaping foiled for a long time. Without saying a word, I dismounted, and leading my horse by the bridle, glided through the mob so cleverly, that I at length found myself outside. I then leaped into the saddle, and pushed straight ahead. I was only just in time, I declare, for five minutes later all the gates were closed."
"And then you came straight here?"
Quoniam smiled cunningly. "Do you think so?" he said.
"Hang it! I suppose so, at least."
"Well, you are mistaken, gossip; I did not return straight here: and yet it was not my inclination that prevented it, I assure you."
"What happened, then?"
"You will see, for I have not finished yet."
"Go on, then; but be brief, if that is possible."
"Every man does what he can, and you have no right to ask more of him."
"That is true, speak as you think proper."
"Never," the Negro continued, "did I gallop in such good spirits; my horse stretched out, so that it was a pleasure to see; and it seemed as if the poor brute understood my impatience to get away from the hacienda, so fast did it race. This ride lasted thus, without interruption, for nearly five hours; at the end of that period I thought it advisable to grant my horse a few minutes' rest, that it might regain its breath, for animals are like men precisely—if you overwork them, they break down all at once; and that would have happened to me had I not been careful to stop in time. I therefore allowed my horse to rest for two hours; then, after rubbing it down, I started again, but had not yet reached the end of my adventures. I had scarce galloped an hour longer ere I fell into a large party of horsemen, armed to the teeth, who suddenly emerged from a ravine, and surrounded me ere I had even time enough to notice them. The meeting was anything but agreeable—the more so, as they did not appear at all well disposed toward me; and I do not exactly know how I should have got out of the hobble, had not one of the men thought proper to recognize me, though I do not remember ever to have met him before, and burst out, 'Why, it is a friend; 'tis Quoniam, Tranquil's comrade!' I confess that this exclamation pleased me; a man may be brave, but there are circumstances in which he feels frightened, and this is what happened to me at that moment."
The hunters smiled at the Negro's simple frankness, but were careful not to interrupt him, as they felt instinctively that he had reached the most interesting point of his long and prolix narration.
"At once," the latter continued, "the manner of these men changed entirely; they became most polite and attentive, in proportion as they had been, previously brutal. 'Lead him to the commandant,' said one of them the others approved, and I gave in, because resistance would have been folly. I followed without any remark, the man who led me to their Chief, though inwardly cursing the wasps' nest into which I had fallen. Fortunately I had not far to go. Can you guess, Tranquil, who this Chief was to whom I was led?"
"The Jaguar," the hunter answered.
"What!" the Negro exclaimed, in amazement, "Have you guessed it? Well! I swear to you that I did not suspect it in the least, and was greatly surprised at seeing him. But I must do him the justice of saying that he received me very well; he questioned me about a good many matters, which I answered as well as I could—where I came from, what was doing at the hacienda, where I was going, and so on. In short, he conversed with me for more than an hour; then, doubtless, satisfied with the information I had given him, he left me free to continue my journey, and began his own. It seems that he is going straight to the Larch-tree hacienda."
"Does he intend to lay siege to it?"
"That is his intention, I believe; but, although he is at the head of nearly twelve hundred determined bandits, I do not think his nails, and those of his comrades, will be hard enough to dig a hole in such stout walls."
"That is in God's hands. Have you finished your narrative?"
"Very soon."
"Go on, then."
"Before restoring me to liberty, the Jaguar inquired after you and Doña Carmela with considerable interest. Then he wrote a few words on a piece of paper, which he handed me, with a recommendation to be sure and give it you so soon as I rejoined you."
"Good Heaven!" Tranquil exclaimed, in agitation, "And you have delayed so long in executing your commission!"
"Was I not obliged to tell you first what had happened to me? But there is no time lost, for here is the paper."
While saying this, Quoniam drew a paper from his pocket, and offered it to Tranquil, who almost tore it out of his hands. The Negro, convinced that he had carried out his commission excellently, did not at all comprehend the hunter's impatience; he looked at him for a moment with an air of amazement, then shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly, filled his pipe, and began smoking, not troubling himself further about what was going on around him.
The hunter quickly unfolded the paper; he turned it over and over in his hands with an air of embarrassment, taking a side glance every now and then at Loyal Heart, who had drawn a burning log from the fire, and now held it within reading distance, for night had completely set in. This went on for some minutes; at length, Loyal Heart, understanding the reason of the hunter's hesitation, resolved on speaking to him.
"Well," he said, with a smile, "what does your friend Jaguar write?"
"Hum!" said the hunter.
"Perhaps," the other continued, "it is so badly written that you cannot make out his scrawl. If you permit me, I will try."
The Canadian looked at him. The young man's face was calm; nothing evidenced that he had a thought of making fun of the hunter. The latter shook his head several times, and then burst into a hearty laugh.
"Deuce take all false shame!" he said, as he gave him the letter. "Why should I not confess that I cannot read? A man whose life has been spent in the desert ought not to fear confessing an ignorance which can have nothing dishonouring for him. Read, read, my lad, and let us know What our doubtful friend wishes."
And he took the log from the young man's hands.
Loyal Heart took a rapid glance at the paper. "The letter is laconic," he said, "but explicit. Listen:
"'The Jaguar has kept his word. Of all the Mexicans who accompanied the conducta, only one is alive free and unwounded—Captain Don Juan Melendez de Gongora. Will the friends of the Jaguar have a better opinion of him?'"
"Is that all?" Tranquil asked.
"Yes."
"Well," the hunter exclaimed, "people may say as they please, but, by Heavens! The Jaguar is a fine fellow."
"Is he not, father?" a gentle voice murmured in his ear.
Tranquil started at this remark, and turned sharply round. Carmela was by his side, calm and smiling.
We have said that night had fallen for some time past, and it was quite dark under covert. In the black sky a chaos of clouds, laden with the electric fluid, rolled heavily along. Not a star glistened in the vault of heaven; an autumnal breeze whistled gustily through the trees, and at each blast covered the ground with a shower of dead leaves.
In the distance could be heard the dull and mournful appeals of the wild beasts proceeding to the drinking place, and the snapping bark of the coyotes, whose ardent eyes at intervals gleamed like incandescent coals amid the shrubs. At times lights flashed in the forest and ran along the fine marsh grass like will-o'-the-wisps. Large dried up sumach trees stood at the corners of the clearing, in which the bivouac was established, and in the fantastic gleams of the fire waved like phantoms their winding sheets of moss and lianas. A thousand sounds passed through the air; nameless cries escaped from invisible lairs, hollowed beneath the roots of the aged trees; stifled cries descended from the crests of the quebradas, and our adventurers felt an unknown world living around them, whose proximity froze the soul with a secret terror.
Nature was sad and melancholy, as when she is in travail with one of those terrible overthrows so frequent in these regions. In spite of themselves, the hunters underwent the influence of this discomfort of the desert. There are black hours in life, in which, either through the action of external objects, or the common and mysterious disposition of the inner being, thatmewhich cannot be defined, the strongest men feel unconsciously mastered by a strange contagion of sadness which they seem to breathe in the air, and which overpowers them without power of defence. The news brought by Quoniam had further augmented this tendency of the hunters to melancholy; hence the conversation round the fire, ordinarily gay and careless, was sad and short. Everyone yielded to the flood of gloomy thoughts that contracted his heart, and the few words exchanged at lengthened intervals between the hunters generally remained unanswered.
Carmela alone, lively as a nightingale, continued in a low voice her conversation with Singing-bird, while warming herself, for the night was cold, and not noticing the anxious sideglances which the Canadian at times gave her. At the moment when Lanzi and Quoniam were preparing to go to sleep, a slight crackling was heard in the shrubs. The hunters, suddenly torn from their secret thoughts, raised their heads quickly. The horses had stopped eating, and with their heads turned to the thicket, and ears laid back, appeared to be listening.
In the desert, everything has a reason; the wood rangers, accustomed to analyse all the rumours of the prairie, know and explain them without ever making a mistake; the rustling of the branch on which the hand rests, the noise of the leaf falling on the ground, the murmur of the water over the pebbles—nothing escapes the marvellous sagacity of these men, whose senses have acquired an extraordinary delicacy.
"Someone is prowling round us," Loyal Heart muttered in a voice not above a breath.
"A spy, of course," said Lanzi.
"Spy or no, the man who is approaching is certainly a white," said Tranquil, as he stretched out his arm to clutch the rifle lying by his side.
"Stay, father," Carmela said eagerly, as she seized his arm; "perhaps it is a poor wretch lost in the desert, who needs help."
"It may be so," Tranquil replied after a moment's reflection; "at any rate, we shall soon know."
"What do you intend doing?" the girl exclaimed, terrified at seeing him rise.
"Go and meet the man, and ask him what he wants, that is all."
"Take care, father."
"Of what, my child?"
"Suppose this man were one of the bandits who traverse the desert?"
"Well, what then?"
"And he were to kill you?"
The Canadian shrugged his shoulders.
"Kill me, girl, nonsense! Reassure yourself, my child, whoever the man may be, he will not see me unless I deem it necessary. So let me alone."
The maiden tried once more to prevent his departure, but the Canadian would listen to nothing. Freeing himself gently from Carmela's affectionate clutch, he picked up his rifle and disappeared in the chaparral with so light and well-measured a step, that he seemed rather to be gliding on a cloud, than walking on the grass of the clearing.
So soon as he reached the centre of the thicket, from which the ill-omened sound he had heard came, the hunter, ignorant as he was as to how many enemies he had to deal with, redoubled his prudence and precautions: after a hesitation which lasted only a few seconds, he lay down on the ground, and began gently crawling through the grass, without producing the slightest rustling sound.
We will now return to the monk, whom we left proceeding toward the hunters' bivouac, accompanied by Blue-fox. The Apache Chief, after giving him the instructions he thought best adapted to inspire him with a wholesome terror, and compel him to serve his plans, left him alone, and disappeared so suddenly, that the monk could not guess in what direction he had gone. When he was alone, Fray Antonio took a timid glance around him; his mind was perplexed, for he could not conceal from himself how delicate and difficult of accomplishment was the mission with which the Chief had entrusted him, especially when dealing with a man so clever and well versed in Indian tricks as the tiger killer.
More than once the monk cursed the malignity of his planet which led him into such traps, and seemed to take a delight in accumulating on his head all the annoyances and tribulations possible. For a moment, he thought of flight, but he reflected that he was doubtless carefully watched, and that at the slightest suspicious movement he attempted, the invisible guardians who were watching him would suddenly appear before him, and compel him to carry out the adventure to the end.
Fortunately for himself, the monk belonged to that privileged class of men whom even the greatest annoyances but slightly affect, and who, after feeling wretched for a few moments, frankly make up their minds, saying to themselves that when the moment arrives in which they run a risk, an accident will perhaps draw them from their trouble, and turn matters to their advantage, in lieu of crushing them.
This reasoning, false though it be, is employed more frequently than may be supposed by a number of people, who, after saying to themselves "when it comes, we shall see," push boldly onwards, and, extraordinary to say, generally succeed in getting out of the hobble, without the loss of too many feathers, and without themselves knowing what they did to have so lucky an escape.
The monk, therefore, resolutely entered the covert, guiding himself by the light of the fire as a beacon. For some minutes he went on at a tolerable pace, but gradually as he approached, his alarm returned; he remembered the rough correction Captain Melendez had administered to him, and this time he feared even worse.
Still, he was now so near the bivouac that any backsliding would be useless. For the purpose of granting himself a few minutes' further respite, he dismounted, and fastened his horse to a tree with extreme slowness: then, having no further plausible pretext to offer himself for delaying his arrival among the hunters, he decided on starting again, employing the most minute precautions not to be perceived too soon, through fear of receiving a bullet in his chest, before he had time to have an explanation with the persons he visited at so awkward an hour.
But Fray Antonio, unluckily for himself, was extremely obese; he walked heavily, and like a man accustomed to tread the pavement of a town; moreover, the night was extremely dark, which prevented him seeing two yards ahead, and he could only progress with outstretched hands, tottering at each step, and running against every obstacle that came across his path.
Hence he did not go far, ere he aroused the persons he desired so much to surprise, and whose practised ear, constantly on the watch, had at once noticed the unusual sound which he had himself not noticed. Fray Antonio, extremely satisfied with his manner of progression, and congratulating himself in his heart at having succeeded so well in concealing himself, grew bolder and bolder, and began to feel almost entirely reassured, when suddenly he uttered a slight cry of terror, and stopped as if his feet had been rooted in the ground. He had felt a heavy hand laid on his shoulder.
The monk began trembling all over, though not daring to turn his head to the right or left, for he was persuaded in his heart that his last hour had arrived.
"Hilloh, Señor Padre, what are you doing in the forest at such an hour?" a hoarse voice then said to him.
But Fray Antonio was unable to answer; terror had rendered him deaf and blind.
"Are you dumb?" the voice went on a minute after in a friendly voice. "Come, come, it is not wise to traverse the desert at so late an hour."
The monk did not reply.
"Deuce take me," the other exclaimed, "if terror has not rendered him idiotic. Come, bestir yourself, canarios."
And he began shaking him vigorously.
"Eh, what?" the monk said, in whom a species of reaction was beginning to take place.
"Come, there is some progress, you speak, hence you are not dead," Tranquil went on joyously, for it was he who had so cruelly frightened the monk; "follow me, you must be frozen, don't let us remain here."
And passing his arm through the monk's, he led him away; the latter followed him passively and mechanically, not able yet to understand what was happening to him, but still beginning to regain a small amount of courage. In a few minutes, they reached the clearing.
"Ah!" Carmela exclaimed in surprise; "Fray Antonio! By what accident is he here, when he started with the conducta de plata?"
This remark made the hunter prick his ears; he examined the monk attentively, and then compelled him to sit down by the fire.
"I trust that the good father will explain to us what has happened to him," he muttered.
Everything, however, has an end in this world; and the monk for some time past had seemed destined to pass, with the greatest rapidity and almost without transition, from the extremest terror to the most complete security. When he was a little warmed, the confusion produced in his ideas by the sudden meeting with the hunter gradually yielded to the cordial reception given him; and Carmela's gentle voice breaking pleasantly on his ear, completely re-established the balance of his mind, and dismissed the mournful apprehensions that tormented him.
"Do you feel better, holy Father?" Carmela asked him, with much sympathy.
"Yes," he said, "I thank you, I am now quite comfortable."
"All the better. Will you eat? Would you like to take any refreshment?"
"Nothing at all, I thank you, for I have not the least appetite."
"Perhaps you are thirsty, Fray Antonio; if so, here is a bota of refino," said Lanzi, as he offered him a skin more than half full of the comforting liquid.
The monk permitted himself to be persuaded sufficiently to prove that he was no lover of ardent spirits; then he allowed himself to be convinced, and seizing the bota, drank a hearty draught of the generous fluid. This libation restored him all his coolness and presence of mind.
"Then," he said, as he turned the bota to the half-breed, and gave vent to a sigh of relief, "Heaven preserve me; were the Evil One to come now in person, I feel capable of holding my own against him."
"Ah, ah!" said Tranquil, "It seems, my good father, as if you were now completely restored to the possession of your intellectual faculties."
"Yes, and I will give you the proof whenever you like."
"Hang it! You challenge me. I did not dare cross-question you before; but, as it is so, I will no longer hesitate."
"What do you wish to know?"
"A very simple matter: how it is that a monk finds himself at such an hour alone in the heart of the desert?"
"Nonsense," Fray Antonio said, gaily. "Who told you that I was alone?"
"Nobody; but I suppose so."
"Do not make any suppositions, brother, for you would be mistaken."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, as I have the honour of telling you."
"Still, when I met you, you were alone."
"Granted."
"Well?"
"The others were further off, that's all."
"What others?"
"The persons who accompanied me."
"Ah! And who are they?"
"That is the question——Nonsense," he said, a minute after, as if holding a conversation with himself, "the most disadvantageous reports are current about me. I am accused of a number of bad actions; suppose I were to try and do a good one, that might change my luck. Who knows whether I may not be rewarded at a later date? At any rate, here goes."
Tranquil and his comrades listened in extreme surprise to the monologue of the monk, not knowing exactly what to think of this man, and half inclined to deem him mad. The latter perceived the impression he produced on his hearers.
"Listen," he said, in a stern voice, and with a slight frown, "form what opinion of me you like, that is a matter of indifference to me; still I do not wish it to be said, that I requited your cordial hospitality by odious treachery."
"What do you mean?" Tranquil exclaimed.
"Listen to me. I uttered the word treachery, and perhaps I was wrong, for nothing proves to me that it is so; still, all sorts of reasons lead me to suppose that it is nothing else persons tried to force me into committing for your injury."
"Explain yourself, in Heaven's name; you speak in enigmas, and it is impossible to understand you."
"You are right, so I will be clear: which of you gentlemen bears the name of Tranquil?"
"It is I."
"Very good. Owing to certain circumstances, the recital of which would not at all interest you, I unluckily fell into the hands of the Apaches."
"Apaches!" Tranquil exclaimed, in surprise.
"Good Lord, yes," the monk continued; "and I assure you that when I found myself in their power, I did not feel at all comfortable. Still, I was wrong to be alarmed; far from inventing for me one of those atrocious tortures which they mercilessly inflict on the whites who are so unhappy as to become their prisoners, they treated me, on the contrary, with extreme gentleness."
Tranquil fixed a scrutinising glance on the monk's placid face.
"For what purpose did they that?" he asked, with a suspicious accent.
"Ah," Fray Antonio went on, "that I could not comprehend, though I am perhaps beginning to suspect it."
The hearers bent toward the speaker with an expression of impatient curiosity.
"This evening," the monk went on, "the Chief of the Redskins himself accompanied me to within a short distance of your bivouac; on coming in sight of your fire he pointed it out to me, saying, 'Go and sit down at that brasero. You will tell the great Pale hunter that one of his oldest and dearest friends desires to see him.' Then he left me, after making the most horrible threats if I did not obey him at once. You know the rest."
Tranquil and his comrades regarded each other in amazement, but without exchanging a word. There was a rather long silence; but Tranquil at length took on himself to express aloud the thought each had in his heart.
"'Tis a trap," he said.
"Yes," Loyal Heart remarked; "but for what purpose?"
"How do I know?" the Canadian muttered.
"You said, Fray Antonio," the young man continued, addressing the monk, "that you suspected the motives of the Apaches' extraordinary treatment of you?"
"I did say so," he replied.
"Let us know that suspicion."
"It was suggested to me by the conduct of the pagans, and by the clumsy snare they laid for you; it is evident to me that the Apache Chief hopes, if you consent to grant the interview he asks, to profit by your absence to carry off Doña Carmela."
"Carry me off!" the maiden exclaimed, with a start of horror, surprised and alarmed at once by this conclusion, which she was far from anticipating.
"The Redskins are very fond of white women," the monk continued, coolly; "most of the incursions they make into our territory are undertaken for the purpose of carrying off captives of that colour."
"Oh!" Carmela exclaimed, with an accent of indomitable resolution, "I would sooner die than become the slave of one of those ferocious demons."
Tranquil shook his head sadly. "The monk's supposition appears to me correct," he said.
"The more so," Fray Antonio confirmed him, "because the Apaches who made me prisoner are the same that attacked the Venta del Potrero."
"Oh, oh," said Lanzi, "in that case I know their Chief, and his name; he is one of the most implacable enemies of the white men. It is very unlucky that I did not succeed in burying him under the ruins of the venta, for Heaven is my witness that such was my intention."
"What is the fellow's name?" the hunter asked, sharply, evidently annoyed at his verbiage.
"Blue-fox!" said Lanzi.
"Ah," Tranquil said, ironically and with a dark frown, "I have known Blue-fox for many years, and you, Chief?" he added, turning to Black-deer.
The name of the Apache Sachem had produced such an impression on the Pawnee, that the hunter was startled by it. The Indians retain under all circumstances an apathetic mask, which they consider it an honour not to remove, whatever may happen; but the mere name of Blue-fox, pronounced as if by accident, was sufficient to melt that indifference, and cause Black-deer to forget Indian etiquette.
"Blue-fox is a dog, the son of a coyote," he said, as he spat on the ground disdainfully; "the gypaètes would refuse to devour his unclean carcase."
"These two men must have a mortal hatred for each other," the Canadian muttered, as he took a sideglance at the inflamed features and sparkling eyes of the Indian Chief.
"Will my brother kill Blue-fox?" the Pawnee asked.
"It is probable," Tranquil answered; "but in the first place, let us try to play this master rogue a trick, who fancies us stupid enough to be caught in the clumsy snares he lays in our path. Be frank, monk, have you told us the truth?"
"On my honour."
"I should prefer any other oath," the Canadian said ironically, in a low voice. "Can you be trusted?"
"Yes."
"Is what you said to us about your return to honest courses sincere?"
"Put me on my trial."
"That is what I intend to do; but reflect ere answering. Do you really intend to be of service to us?"
"I do."
"Whatever may happen?"
"Whatever may happen, and whatever the consequence may be of what you ask of me."
"That will do. I warn you that, in all probability, you will be exposed to serious perils."
"I have told you that my resolution is formed; speak, therefore, without further hesitation."
"Listen to me, then."
"I am doing so. Have no fear of finding me recoil, so cut it short."
"I will try to do so."
Though the report made by Quoniam was in every respect true, the Negro was ignorant of certain details of which we will now inform the reader, because these events are closely connected with our story, and clearness renders it indispensable that they should be made known. We will, therefore, return to the Larch-tree hacienda.
But, in the first place, let us explain the meaning of this word "hacienda," which we have employed several times in the course of this narrative, and which several authors have employed before us, without understanding its significance.
In Sonora, Texas, and all the old Spanish colonies generally, where the land is, as it were, left to anyone who likes to take possession of it and cultivate it, there may be found at immense distances, and broadcast like almost imperceptible dots over the waste lands, vast agricultural establishments, each as large as one of our counties. These establishments are called haciendas, a word we improperly translate by farm, which has not at all the same meaning.
Immediately after the conquest, the Cortez, Pizarros, Almagros, and other leaders of adventurers hastened to repay their comrades by dividing among them the lands of the conquered, following, perhaps without suspecting it, the example which had been given them a few centuries previously by the leaders of the Barbarians, after the break-up and dismemberment of the Roman Empire.
The conquerors were few in number, the shares were large; and the majority of these ragged conquerors, who in their own country had not even a roof to shelter their heads, found themselves all at once masters of immense domains, which they immediately set to work turning to account, laying down the sword without regret to take the pick, that is to say, compelling the Indians who had become their slaves to clear for them the land they had stolen.
The first care of the new possessors of the soil was to erect, in positions easy to defend, houses, whose lofty, thick, and embattled walls rendered them thorough fortresses, behind which they could easily defy any attempted revolt on the part of their slaves. The inhabitants had been allotted like the ground; each Spanish soldier received a considerable number as his share; arms cost nothing. There was no lack of stone, and hence the buildings were constructed of vast proportions, and of such extreme strength, that even at the present day, after the lapse of several centuries, these haciendas are an object of admiration to the traveller.
Slaves alone, for whom the measure of time no longer exists, and whose only hope is death, can undertake and complete these Cyclopean buildings, of which we, men of another age, cannot understand the existence on the globe, where they stand at various spots, like dumb and touching protests.
At the haciendas, in addition to agriculture, which, especially at the present day, has greatly fallen off, owing to the incessant invasions of the Indian bravos, the breeding of cattle and horses is carried on to a considerable extent. Hence, each of these farms contains an infinity of servants of all descriptions, peons, vaqueros, etc., and resembles a small town.
The owners of these establishments are consequently men belonging to the highest society, and the richest and most intelligent class in the country. The majority prefer residing in the cities, and visit only at long intervals their haciendas, the management of which they entrust to the major-domo and capataz, who are themselves semi-savages, whose life is spent in riding constantly from one end to the other of the hacienda.
The Larch-tree hacienda, but a short distance from the mountains whose passes it commanded, was therefore of great strategetical value to both the parties now disputing the possession of Texas. The insurgent chiefs understood this as well as the Mexican generals did.
After the total destruction of the detachment commanded by Captain Melendez, General Rubio hastened to throw a powerful garrison into the Larch-tree. As an old soldier of the Independence, accustomed to the incessant struggles of a people that desires to be free, he had divined the revolution behind the insurrection, on seeing that for ten years past these insurgents, though incessantly conquered, seemed to grow from their ashes again to return more obstinate and powerful than before, and expose their chests to the pitiless bullets of their oppressors.
He was aware that the inhabitants only awaited the announcement of a success, even though problematical, to rise to a man, and make common cause with the daring partisans, branded by their enemies with the name of Border ruffians, but who in reality were only the forlorn hope of a revolution, and apostles acting under a holy and noble idea. Far from offering Captain Melendez reproaches, which he knew that the latter did not deserve, the General pitied and consoled him.
"You have your revenge to take, Colonel," he said to him, for this grade, long deserved by the young officer, had just been given him by the President of the Republic; "your new epaulettes have not yet smelt powder. I propose giving you a splendid opportunity for christening them."
"You will fulfil my wishes, General," the young officer replied, "by entrusting me with a perilous enterprise, my success in which will serve to wipe out the shame of my defeat."
"There is no shame, Colonel," the General replied, kindly, "in being conquered as you were. War is only a game like any other, in which chance often declares for the weaker side; let us not despond at an insignificant check, but try, on the contrary, to cut the comb of these cocks who, pluming themselves on their ephemeral triumph, doubtless imagine that we are terrified and demoralised by their victory."
"Be assured, General, that I will help you to the best of my ability. Whatever be the post you confide to me, I will die at it before surrendering."
"An officer, my friend, must put off that impetuosity which so well becomes the soldier, but it is a grave fault in a Chief trusted with the lives of his fellow men. Do not forget that you are a head, and not an arm."
"I will be prudent, General, as far as the care for my honour will permit me."
"That will do, Colonel—I ask no more."
Don Juan merely bowed in response.
"By-the-bye," said the General, presently, "have these partisans any capable men at their head?"
"Very capable, General; thoroughly acquainted with guerilla fighting, and possessing a bravery and coolness beyond all praise."
"All the better, for in that case we shall reap more glory in conquering them. Unfortunately, they are said to wage war like perfect savages, pitilessly massacring the soldiers that fall into their hands; indeed, what has happened to you is a proof of it."
"You are mistaken, General. Whatever these men may be, and the cause for which they fight, it is my duty to enlighten and disabuse you, for they have been strangely calumniated; it was only after my repeated refusals to surrender that the action began. Their Chief even offered me my life at the moment when I hurled myself with him into the yawning abyss at our feet. When I became their prisoner they restored me my sword, gave me a horse and a guide, who brought me within musket shot of your outposts: is that the conduct of cruel men?"
"Certainly not, and I am pleased to see you thus do justice to your enemies."
"I merely declare a fact."
"Yes, and an unlucky one for us; these men must consider themselves very strong to act thus. This clemency of theirs will attract a great number of partisans to their ranks."
"I fear it."
"And I too. No matter, the moment has arrived to act with vigour; for, if we do not take care, within a week the very stones of this country, of which we are still the masters, will rise to expel us, and the ground will grow so hot under our feet, that we shall be compelled to fly before these undisciplined masses of badly armedguasos, who harass us like swarms of mosquitoes."
"I await your orders, General."
"Do you feel strong enough to mount again?"
"Perfectly."
"Very good, then. I have prepared three hundred men, cavalry and infantry; the latter will mount behind the horsemen, in order not to delay the march, which must be rapid, for my object is that you should reach the hacienda before the insurgents; and fortify yourself there."
"I will reach it."
"I count on you. Two mountain guns will follow your detachment, and will prove sufficient; for, if I am rightly informed, the hacienda has six in good condition. Still, as ammunition may run short, you will take sufficient with you to last for a fortnight. At all risks, the hacienda must hold out for that period against all the attacks the insurgents may make."
"It shall hold out, I swear it to you, General."
"I trust entirely to you."
The General walked to the entrance of the tent and raised the curtain.
"Summon the officers told off for the expedition," he said.
Five minutes later the officers appeared; nine in number—two captains of cavalry, two of infantry, two lieutenants, and two alferez or second lieutenants, and a captain, lieutenant, and alferez of artillery. The General looked for a moment searchingly at these men, who stood serious and motionless before him.
"Caballeros," he at length said, "I have carefully chosen you from the officers of my army, because I know that you are brave and experienced; you are about to carry out, under Colonel Don Juan Melendez de Gongora, a confidential mission, which I would not have given to others whose devotion to their country was less known to me. This mission is most perilous. I hope that you will accomplish it like brave men, and return here with glory."
The officers bowed their thanks.
"Do not forget," the General continued, "that you owe your soldiers an example of subordination and discipline; obey the Colonel as myself in all he may order for the good of the service and the success of your enterprise."