"We cannot desire a better Chief than the one your Excellency has selected to lead us," one of the Captains answered; "under his orders we are certain of performing prodigies."
The General smiled graciously.
"I count on your zeal and bravery. Now, to horse without further delay, for you must have left the camp within ten minutes."
The officers bowed and retired. Don Juan prepared to follow them.
"Stay," the General said to him; "I have one final recommendation to give you."
The young man walked up to him.
"Shut yourself up carefully in the place," the General went on. "If you are invested, do not attempt any of those sallies, which often compromise the fate of a garrison, without positive advantage. Content yourself with vigorously repulsing attacks, sparing the blood of your soldiers, and not expending your ammunition needlessly. So soon as my final arrangements are made, I will march in person to your help; but youmustresist till then, at any cost."
"I have already told you I will do so, General."
"I know that you will. Now, my friend, to horse, and may you be fortunate."
"Thanks, General."
The Colonel bowed, and immediately withdrew to place himself at the head of the small band, which, collected a short distance off, only awaited his arrival to start. The General was standing in the doorway of his tent to witness their departure. Don Juan mounted, drew his sabre, and turned toward the motionless detachment.
"Forward!" he commanded.
The squadrons at once started, and began drawing out in the darkness like the black folds of an ill-omened serpent. The General remained in the doorway of his tent for some time, and when the last sound had died away in the night, he pensively re-entered the tent, and let the curtain fall behind him, muttering in a low and sad voice—
"I have sent them to death, for Heaven fights on the side of our adversaries."
And, after shaking his head several times with an air of discouragement, the old soldier of the war of Independence fell into an equipal, hid his face in his hands, and plunged into serious reflections.
In the meanwhile, the detachment rapidly continued its march. Thanks to the Mexican fashion of mounting infantryen croupe, the troops carried out their movements with a rapidity that seemed almost prodigious, the more so as American horses go very quickly, and endure great fatigue without injury.
The Americans of the South are generally very harsh to their horses, to which they pay no attention. Never in the interior does a horse pass the night, whatever the weather may be, otherwise than in the open air. Every morning it receives its ration for the whole day, marching frequently fourteen, or even sixteen hours, without stopping or drinking; when evening arrives, the harness is removed, and it is left to find its food where it can. On the Indian border, where there is much to fear from the Redskins, who are great admirers of horses, and display admirable skill in stealing them, certain precautions are used at night; the horses are picquetted in the interior of the bivouac, and feed on the pea vines, the young tree shoots, and a few measures of maize or other corn, which is given with extreme parsimony. Still, in spite of the careless way in which they are treated, we repeat that these horses are very handsome, vigorous, remarkably docile, and of great speed.
Colonel Melendez arrived at an early hour in sight of the hacienda, for his troops had made a forced march through the night. With a rapid glance the experienced Chief of the Mexicans examined the neighbourhood, but the plain was deserted.
The Larch-tree hacienda stood like an eagle's nest on the top of a hillock, whose abrupt sides had never been smoothed, as the steepness of their ascent was regarded as a means of defence in the event of an attack. Thick walls turned yellow by time, at each angle of which could be seen the threatening muzzles of two guns peering out, gave this strongly-built house the appearance of a real fortress.
The Mexicans increased their already rapid pace, in order to reach the hacienda before the gates were opened, and the ganado let out. The scene presented by this magnificent plain at sunrise, had something imposing about it. The hacienda, whose roof was still veiled in mist; the gloomy forests in the distance, which ran with almost imperceptible undulations along the spurs of the sierra; the silvery thread of a small stream, which wound with capricious meanderings through the plain, and whose waters sparkled in the hot sunbeams; the dumps of larches, sumachs, and Peru trees, which rose here and there from amid the tall grass, and agreeably broke the monotony of the plain, while from the thickets rose the joyous song of the birds saluting the return of day—in a word, all seemed to breathe repose and happiness in this abode momentarily so tranquil.
The Mexicans reached the hacienda, whose gates were not opened till the inhabitants were well assured that the newcomers were really friends. They had already heard of the general insurrection occasioned by the surprise of the conducta de plata, and hence the Major-domo, who commanded in the absence of Don Felipe de Valreal, proprietor of the hacienda, kept on his guard.
This Major-domo, whose name was Don Felix Paz, was a man of about five-and-forty at the most, tall, well-built, and powerful; he had, in truth, the appearance of a perfecthombre de a caballo, an essential condition for fulfilling his onerous duties. This Major-domo came in person to receive the Mexican detachment at the gate of the hacienda. After congratulating the Colonel, he informed him that so soon as he received the news of the general revolt of the province, he had brought all his cattle in, armed the servants, and rendered the guns on the platform serviceable.
The Colonel complimented him on his diligence, established his troops in the outhouses destined for the peons and vaqueros, took military possession of all the posts, and, accompanied by the Major-domo, made a strict inspection of the interior of the fortress. Don Juan Melendez, being well acquainted with the carelessness and sloth of his fellow countrymen, expected to find the hacienda in a wretched state, but was agreeably deceived. This large estate, situated on the limits of the desert, as it were between civilisation and barbarism, was too exposed to the unforeseen attacks of Redskins and bandits of every description who congregate on the border, for its owner not to watch with the utmost care over its defence. This wise foresight was at this moment of a great utility for the siege which, in all probability, they would have to withstand ere long.
The Colonel found but very little to alter in the arrangements made by the Major-domo; he contented himself with cutting down several clumps of trees which, being situated too near the hacienda, might shelter sharpshooters, who could annoy their artillery men. At each entrance of the hacienda barricades were erected by his orders, composed of branches interlaced, and outside the walls the arms of all the healthy men were called into requisition, to dig a deep and wide trench, the earth from which, thrown up on the side of the hacienda, formed a breast-work, behind which the best shots in the garrison were placed. The two mountain guns brought by the Colonel remained horsed, so that they might be transported to the point of danger. Finally, the Mexican flag was haughtily hoisted on the top of the hacienda.
Counting the servants, to whom Don Felix had distributed arms, the garrison amounted to nearly four hundred men, a sufficient force to resist a coup de main, especially in so good a position as this; there was plenty of ammunition and food; the Mexicans were animated by the best spirit, and the Colonel, therefore, felt certain of being able to hold out for a fortnight against troops more numerous and experienced than those the insurgents had at their disposal.
The works of fortification were carried on with such great activity, that they were completed within twenty-four hours of the Colonel's arrival at the hacienda. The scouts, sent out in all directions, came back without any fresh news of the insurgents, whose movements were so cleverly veiled, that, since the affair of the conducta, they seemed to have disappeared without leaving a trace, and buried themselves in the bowels of the earth.
This complete want of news, far from reassuring the Colonel, on the contrary, augmented his anxiety. This factitious tranquillity, this gloomy silence of the landscape, seemed to him more menacing than if he had heard of the approach of the enemy, whose masses, however, he felt, by a species of secret intuition, were gradually drawing in round the post he had been selected to defend.
It was the second day after the arrival of the Mexicans at the Larch-tree; the sun was disappearing behind the mountains in masses of gold; night would soon set in. Colonel Melendez and the Major-domo, leaning on one of the battlements of the platform, were absently gazing out on the immense landscape unrolled at their feet, while conversing together. Don Juan had in a few minutes appreciated the loyalty and intelligence of the Major-domo; hence these two men, who thoroughly understood each other, had become friends.
"Another day past," said the Colonel, "and it has been impossible for us yet to learn the movements of the insurgents. Does not that appear extraordinary to you, Don Felix?"
The Major-domo sent forth a cloud of smoke from his mouth and nostril, took his husk cigarette from his mouth, and quietly flipped away the ash.
"Very extraordinary," he said, without turning his head, and continuing to look fixedly at the sky.
"What a singular man you are! Nothing disturbs you," Don Juan went on half angrily, "Have all our scouts returned?"
"All."
"And still brought no news?"
"None."
"By Heaven! Your coolness would make a saint swear! What are you looking at so fixedly in the sky? Do you fancy you can find the information we require there?"
"Perhaps so," the Major-domo replied seriously. Then extending his hand in a north-east direction, he said—
"Look there."
"Well?" the Colonel said looking in the direction indicated.
"Do you see nothing?"
"On my honour, no."
"Not even those flocks of herons and flamingos flying in large circles, and uttering shrill cries which you can hear from here?"
"Certainly I see birds; but what have they in common——?"
"Colonel," the Major-domo interrupted him, turning and drawing himself up to his full height; "prepare to defend yourself; the enemy is there."
"What—the enemy? you are mad, Don Felix; look out in the last gleams of day, the plain is deserted."
"Colonel, before becoming Major-domo at the Larch-tree hacienda, I was a wood ranger for fifteen years; the desert is to me a book, every page of which I can peruse. Watch the timid flight of those birds, notice the numberless flocks which are constantly joining those we first perceived; those birds, driven from their nests, are flying haphazard before an enemy who will soon appear. That enemy is the insurgent army, whose masses will soon be visible to us, probably preceded by fire."
"Rayo de Dios, Don Felix," the Colonel suddenly exclaimed; "you are right, look there!"
A red line, momentarily growing wider, suddenly appeared on the extreme verge of the horizon.
"Did the flight of the birds deceive us?" the Major-domo asked.
"Forgive me, friend, a very excusable ignorance, but we have not a moment to lose."
They went down at once; five minutes later the defenders of the hacienda lined the tops of the walls, and ambushed themselves behind the exterior intrenchments. The Texan army, now perfectly visible, was deploying on the plains in heavy columns.
We must now go back for some days, and return to the encampment of the hunters, whom we left in a most awkward position, watched by the vigilant eye of the Apaches, and compelled to trust temporarily to Fray Antonio, that is to say, to a man for whom, in his heart, not one of them felt the slightest sympathy. Still, had it been possible to read the monk's mind, their opinion about him would probably have been completely changed.
A revolution had taken place in this man's mind, and he had been unconsciously overcome by that influence which upright natures ever exert over those which have not yet been entirely spoiled. However, whatever was the cause of the change which had taken place almost suddenly in the monk's ideas, we are bound to state that it was sincere, and that Fray Antonio really intended to serve his new friends, whatever the consequences might be to himself.
Tranquil, accustomed, through the desert life he led, to discover with a certain degree of skill the true feelings of persons with whom accident brought him in contact, thought it his duty to appear to trust, under present circumstances, entirely on the monk, though he might not give perfect credence to his protestations of devotion.
"Are you brave?" he asked him, continuing the conversation.
Fray Antonio, surprised by the sudden question, hesitated for a moment.
"That depends," he said.
"Good; that is the answer of a sensible man. There are moments when the bravest is afraid, and no man can answer for his courage."
The monk gave a sign of assent.
"We have," Tranquil continued, "to cheat the cheater, and play at diamond cut diamond with him; you understand me?"
"Perfectly. Go on."
"Very good. Return to Blue-fox,"
"What?"
"Are you afraid?"
"Not exactly; but I fancy he may proceed to extremities with me."
"That is a risk to be run."
"Well, be it so," he exclaimed resolutely, "I will run it."
The Canadian looked fixedly at him.
"That will do," he said to him. "Here, take these, and, at any rate, if you are attacked, you will not die unavenged."
And he put a brace of pistols in his hand. The monk examined them attentively for a moment, turning them over so as to assure himself that they were in good state, then he hid them under his gown with a start of joy.
"I fear nothing now," he said; "I am going."
"Still I must explain to you——"
"For what good purpose?" the monk interrupted him. "I will tell Blue-fox that you consent to have an interview with him; but, as you do not care to go alone to his camp, you prefer seeing him without witnesses in the middle of the prairie."
"That will do, and you will bring him with you to the spot where I shall be waiting."
"I will try, at any rate."
"That is what I mean."
"But where will you wait for him?"
"On the skirt of the forest."
"All right."
"One parting hint."
"Out with it."
"Keep a few paces from the Chief, not before or behind, but on his right hand, if possible."
"Very good; I understand."
"Well, I trust you will succeed."
"Oh, now I fear nothing, as I am armed."
After uttering these words, the monk rose and walked away with a quick and firm step. The Canadian looked after him for some time.
"Is he a traitor?" he muttered.
"I do not think so," Loyal Heart answered.
"May Heaven grant it!"
"What is your plan?"
"It is simple: we can only triumph over the enemies who surround us by stratagem; hence, that is the only thing I intend employing. We must escape from these red demons at all hazards."
"That is true. But, when we have succeeded in throwing them out, where shall we go?"
"We must not dream, in the present excited state of the country, of making a long journey across the desert with two females; it would be running certain ruin."
"That is true; but what can we do?"
"It is my intention to proceed to the Larch-tree hacienda. There, I fancy, my daughter will obtain the best protection for the present."
"Permit me to remind you that yourself refused to have recourse to that."
"That is true; hence I only resolve on it when in a fix. As for you——"
"Oh, I will accompany you," Loyal Heart quickly interrupted him.
"Thanks," the Canadian exclaimed, warmly. "Still, in spite of all the pleasure your generous offer occasions me, I cannot accept it."
"Why not?"
"Because the nation which had adopted you claims your help, and you cannot refuse it."
"It will wait; besides, Black-deer will make my excuses."
"No," the Chief said, distinctly; "I will not leave my Pale friends in danger."
"By Jove!" Tranquil exclaimed joyously, "As it is so, we shall have some fun; hang it all, if five resolute and well-armed men cannot get the best of a hundred Apaches. Listen to me, comrades: while I go ostensibly to the meeting I have granted Blue-fox, follow me in Indian file, and be ready to appear directly I give you the signal by imitating the cry of the mockingbird."
"All right."
"You, Lanzi and Quoniam, will watch over Carmela."
"We will all watch over her, friend, trust to us," said Loyal Heart.
Tranquil gave his comrades a parting farewell, threw his rifle over his shoulder, and left the encampment. He had hardly disappeared ere the hunters lay down on the ground, and crawled on his trail, Carmela guided by Singing-bird forming the rearguard. The maiden felt an involuntary shudder run over her limbs as she entered the forest. This night march, whose issue might prove so fatal, terrified her, and suggested gloomy forebodings, which she feared to see realised at every step.
In the meanwhile Fray Antonio continued his journey, and soon emerged from the forest. Far from his resolution being shaken, the nearer he drew to the Apaches he felt it, on the contrary, become firmer. The monk was eager to prove to the hunters that he was worthy the confidence they placed in him; and if at times the thought of the dangers to which he exposed himself crossed his mind, he drove it off, being determined to risk his life, if needed, in saving Doña Carmela, and preventing her falling into the hands of the cruel enemies who were preparing to seize her.
Fray Antonio had gone hardly five hundred yards from the forest, when a man suddenly emerged from a thicket and barred his passage. The monk suppressed with difficulty a cry of terror at this unexpected apparition, and started back. But immediately regaining his coolness, he prepared to sustain the terrible contest that doubtless menaced him, for he had recognised Blue-fox at the first glance. The Chief examined him in silence, fixing on him his deep black eye with an expression of suspicion which did not escape the monk.
"My father has been a long time," he at length said, harshly.
"I could not be any quicker," the monk answered.
"Wah! My father returns alone; the great Pale warrior was afraid; he did not accompany my father."
"You are mistaken, Chief; the man you call the great Pale hunter, and whom I call Tranquil, was not afraid, and did not refuse to accompany me."
"Och! Blue-fox is a Sachem; his eye pierces the thickest darkness; though he may look he sees nothing."
"That is probably because you do not look in the right direction, that's all."
"My father will explain. Blue-fox desires to know how his Pale friend carried out the mission the Sachem confided to him."
"I took the best advantage possible of my meeting with the hunter, in order to carry out the orders I had received."
"My father will pardon me, I am only a poor Indian without brains; things must be repeated to me several times before I can understand them. Will the great Pale hunter come?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"At once."
"Where is he then?"
"I left him over there, at the verge of the forest. He is waiting for the Chief."
Blue-fox started at this remark, and fixed on the monk a glance which seemed trying to read the most secret thoughts of his heart.
"Why did he not accompany my father here?" he said.
The monk assumed the most simple look possible.
"On my faith, I do not know," he answered; "but of what consequence is it?"
"It is pleasanter to converse on the prairie."
"Do you think so? Well, it is possible. For my part I do not see any difference between here and there."
This was said with such apparent carelessness, that, in spite of all his craft, the Chief was deceived.
"Has the great Pale hunter come alone?"
"No," Fray Antonio replied, boldly.
"If that be so, Blue-fox will not go."
"The Chief will reflect."
"What is the use of reflecting? The father has deceived his Red friend."
"The hunter could not come alone."
"Why not?"
"Because he did not wish to leave in the forest the girl who accompanies him."
The Indian's face suddenly brightened, and assumed an expression of extraordinary cunning.
"Wah!" he said, "And no other person but the young Pale virgin accompanies the hunter?"
"No. It seems that the other white warriors who were with him left him at daybreak."
"Does my father know where they are gone?"
"I did not inquire. That does not concern me. Every man has enough business of his own without troubling himself about that of others."
"My father is a wise man."
The monk made no reply to this compliment.
These words were rapidly exchanged between the two men. Fray Antonio had answered so naturally, and with such well-played frankness, that the Indian, whose secret thoughts the Mexican's answers flattered, felt all his suspicions vanish, and went, head down, into the snare so adroitly laid for him.
"Och!" he said, "Blue-fox will see his friend."
"The father can return to the camp of the Apache warriors."
"No, thank you, Chief," the monk answered, resolutely, "I prefer remaining with people of my own colour."
Blue-fox reflected for an instant, and then replied, with an ironical smile playing round his thin lips—
"Good; my father is right. He can follow me, then."
"It is evident," the monk thought to himself, "that this accursed pagan is devising some treachery. But I will watch him, and at the slightest suspicious movement I will blow out his brains like the dog he is."
But he kept these reflections to himself, and followed the Chief with an easy and perfectly indifferent air. In the moonbeams, which allowed objects to be distinguished for a considerable distance, they soon perceived, on the extreme verge of the forest, the dark outline of a man leaning on a rifle.
"Ah," the Chief said, "we must make ourselves known."
"That need not trouble you. I take it on myself to warn the hunter when the time arrives."
"Good," the Indian muttered, and they continued to advance.
Blue-fox, though he placed confidence in his companion, only advanced, however, with extreme caution and prudence, examining the shrubs, and even the smallest tufts of grass, as if assuring himself that they concealed no enemy. But, with the exception of the man they perceived before them, the place seemed plunged in profound solitude; all was calm and motionless; no unusual sound troubled the silence.
"Let us stop here," said Fray Antonio, "it would be imprudent for us to advance further without announcing ourselves, although the hunter has probably recognized us already; for, as you perceive, Chief, he has not made the slightest move."
"That is true, but it is as well to be cautious," the other replied.
They stopped at about twenty yards from the covert, where Fray Antonio placed his hands funnel-wise on either side his mouth, and shouted at the full extent of his lungs—
"Hilloh! Tranquil, is that you?"
"Who calls me?" the latter immediately answered.
"I—Fray Antonio. I am accompanied by the person you are expecting."
"Advance without fear," Tranquil replied. "Those who seek me without any intention of treachery have nothing to fear from me."
The monk turned to the Apache Chief. "What shall we do?" he asked him.
"Go on," the latter replied, laconically.
The distance which separated them from the hunter was soon covered; and the Mexican becoming an impromptu master of the ceremonies, presented the two men to each other. The Sachem took a searching glance around him.
"I do not see the young Pale girl," he said.
"Did you wish to speak to her or to me?" the Canadian answered, drily. "I am ready to listen to you. What have you to say to me?"
The Indian frowned; his suspicions were returning; he gave a menacing glance at the monk, who, obeying the advice given him, had insensibly withdrawn a few steps, and was preparing to be an apparently calm witness of the coming scene. Still, after an internal conflict of some seconds, the Sachem succeeded in mastering the wrath that agitated him, and assumed an affable and confiding countenance.
"I only wished to speak to my brother," he replied, in an insinuating voice; "Blue-fox has for many moons desired to see again the face of a friend."
"If it were really as the Chief says," the hunter continued, "nothing could have been more easy. Many days have succeeded one to the other; many years have been swallowed up in the immense gulf of the past, since the period when, young and full of faith, I called Blue-fox my friend. At that period he had a Pawnee heart; but now that he has plucked it from his bosom, to exchange it for an Apache heart, I know him no longer."
"The great hunter of the Palefaces is severe to his Red brother," the Indian answered, with feigned humility, "What matter the days that have passed, if the hunter finds again his friend of the olden time?"
The Canadian smiled disdainfully as he shrugged his shoulders.
"Am I an old woman, to be deceived by the smooth words of a forked tongue?" he said. "Blue-fox is dead; my eyes only see here an Apache Chief, that is to say, an enemy."
"Let my brother remove the skin from his heart, he will recognise a friend," the Indian continued, still in a honeyed voice.
Tranquil involuntarily felt impatient at such cynical impudence.
"A truce to fine speeches, whose sincerity I do not believe in," he said. "Was he my friend who a few days ago tried to carry off my daughter, and at the head of his warriors attacked the calli in which she dwelt, and which is now reduced to ashes?"
"My brother has heard the mockingbird whisper in his ear, and put faith in its falsehoods; the mocker is a chattering and lying bird."
"You are more chattering and lying than the mocker," Tranquil exclaimed, as he violently stamped the butt of his rifle on the ground. "For the last time I repeat to you that I regard you not as a friend, but as an enemy. Now, we have nothing more to say to one another, so let us separate, for this unpleasant conference has already lasted too long."
The Indian took a piercing glance around him, and his eye sparkled ferociously.
"We will not part thus," he said, as he walked two or three steps nearer the hunter, who still remained motionless. The latter attentively followed his every movement, while affecting the most perfect confidence.
As for Fray Antonio, through certain signs that do not deceive men accustomed to Indian tricks, he understood that the moment for acting vigorously was fast approaching, and while continuing to feign the most perfect indifference to the interview of which he was witness, he had quietly drawn the pistols from under his gown, and held them cocked in his hand, ready to employ them at the first alarm. The situation was growing most awkward between the two speakers: each was preparing for the struggle, although the faces were still calm and their voices gentle.
"Yes," Tranquil continued, without displaying the slightest emotion, "we will part thus, Chief, and may Heaven grant that we may never find ourselves face to face again."
"Before separating, the hunter will answer one question."
"I will not, for this conversation has lasted too long already. Farewell!"
And he fell back a pace. The Sachem stretched forth his arm to stop him.
"One word!"
"I will not," the Canadian replied.
"Then die, miserable dog of a Paleface," the Chief exclaimed, at length throwing off the mask and brandishing his tomahawk with extreme rapidity.
But at the same instant a man rose like a black phantom behind the Apache Chief, threw his arms round his body, and lifting him with wondrous strength, hurled him to the ground, and placed his knee on his chest, ere the Sachem, surprised and alarmed by this sudden attack, had attempted to defend himself.
At the yell uttered by Blue-fox, some fifty Apache warriors appeared as if by enchantment, but almost at the same moment the hunter's comrades, who, although invisible, had attentively followed the incidents of this scene, stood by the Canadian's side. Fray Antonio, from whom they were far from expecting such resolution, brought down two Apaches with his pistols, and rejoined the Whites.
Two groups of implacable enemies were thus opposed; unfortunately, the hunters were very weak against the numerous foes that surrounded them on all sides. Still, their firm demeanour and flashing eyes evidenced their unbending resolution to let themselves be killed to the last man, sooner than surrender to the Redskins.
It was an imposing spectacle offered by this handful of men surrounded by implacable foes, and who yet seemed as calm as if they were peaceably seated round their campfire. Carmela and Singing-bird, suffering from sharp pangs of terror, pressed all in a tremor to the side of their friends.
Blue-fox still lay on the ground, held down by Black-deer, whose knee compressed his chest, and neutralised all the tremendous efforts he made to rise. The Apaches, with their long barbed arrows pointed at the hunters, only awaited a word or a sign to begin the attack. A silence of death brooded over the prairie: it seemed as if these men, before tearing each other to pieces, were collecting all their strength to bound forward and rush on each other. Black-deer was the first to break the silence.
"Wah!" he shouted, in a voice rendered hoarse with passion, as he brandished over his enemy's head his scalping knife, whose blade emitted sinister gleams; "at length I meet thee, dog, thief, chicken heart; I hold my vengeance in my hands; at last thy scalp will adorn my horse's mane."
"Thou art but a chattering old woman; thy insults cannot affect me, so try something else. Blue-fox laughs at thee; thou can'st not compel him to utter a cry of pain or make a complaint."
"I will follow thy advice," Black-deer shouted, passionately, and seized his enemy's scalp lock.
"Stop, I insist," the Canadian shouted, in a thundering voice, as he seized the arm of the vindictive Chief.
The latter obeyed.
"Let that man rise," Tranquil continued.
Black-deer gave him a ferocious glance, but made no reply.
"It must be so," the hunter said.
The Comanche Chief bent his head, restored his enemy to liberty, and fell back a pace. With one bound Blue-fox sprang up; but, instead of attempting flight, he crossed his arms on his chest, resumed that mask of impenetrable stoicism which Indians so rarely doff, and waited. Tranquil regarded him for a moment with a singular expression, and then said—-
"I was wrong just now, and my brother must pardon me. No, the memories of youth are not effaced like clouds which the wind bears away. When I saw the terrible danger that menaced Blue-fox, my heart was affected, and I remembered that we had been for a long time friends. I trembled to see his blood flow before me. Blue-fox is a great Chief, he must die as a warrior in the sunshine, he is free to rejoin his friends; he can go."
The Chief raised his head.
"On what conditions?" he said, drily.
"On none. If the Apache warriors attack us, we will fight them; if not, we will continue our journey peacefully. The Chief must, decide, for events depend on his will."
Tranquil, in acting as he had done, had furnished an evident proof of the profound knowledge he possessed of the character of the Redskins, among whom any heroic action is immediately appreciated at its full value. It was a dangerous game to play, but the situation of the hunters was desperate, despite their courage; if the fight had begun, they must have been naturally crushed by numbers, and pitilessly massacred. For the success of his plan the Canadian could only calculate on a good feeling on the part of Blue-fox, and he had staked his all.
After carefully listening to Tranquil's remarks, Blue-fox remained silent for some minutes, during which a violent combat went on in his heart; he felt that he was the dupe of the snare into which he had tried to draw the hunter by reminding him of their old friendship; but the murmurs of admiration, which his warriors were unable to suppress, on seeing the Canadian's noble deed, warned him that he must dissimulate, and feign a gratitude which he was far from experiencing.
The power of an Indian Chief is always very precarious; and he is often constrained, in spite of himself, to bow before the demands of his subordinates, if he does not wish to be overthrown and have a new Chief set up immediately in his place. Blue-fox, therefore, slowly drew his scalping knife from his belt, and let it fall at the hunter's feet.
"The great White hunter and his brothers can continue to follow their path," he said; "the eyes of the Apache warriors are closed, they will not see them. The Palefaces can depart, they will find no one on their road till the second moon from this; but then they must take care; an Apache Chief will set himself on their trail, in order to ask back from them the knife he leaves them, and which he will require."
The Canadian stooped down and picked up the knife, which he passed through his belt.
"When Blue-fox asks me for it, he will find it there," he said, as he pointed to it.
"Och! I will manage to take it again. Now, we are even. Farewell!"
The Chief then bowed courteously to his enemies, made a prodigious bound back, and disappeared in the lofty grass. The Apache warriors uttered their war yell twice, and almost immediately their black outlines disappeared in the gloom. Tranquil waited for a few minutes, and then turned to his comrades.
"Now, we will set out," he said; "the road is free."
"You got out of the scrape cleverly," Loyal Heart said to him; "but it was a terrible risk."
The Canadian smiled, but made no further reply. Then they started.
Europeans, accustomed to the gigantic wars of the Old World, in which enormous masses of two to three hundred thousand men on both sides come into collision on the battle field, where armies have divisions of thirty or forty thousand men, a cavalry often of sixty to eighty thousand sabres, and in which the guns are counted by hundreds, have a difficulty in forming an idea of the way in which war is waged in certain parts of America, as well as the component strength of the armies of the New World.
In Mexico, a population of several millions can hardly collect ten thousand men under arms, an enormous number in those countries. The various republics which were formed on the dismemberment of the Spanish colonies, such as Peru, Chile, New Granada, Bolivia, Paraguay, &c., cannot succeed in assembling more than two or three thousand men under their banners, and that, too, with immense sacrifices; for these countries, which, territorially speaking, are each far larger than England, are nearly deserted, being incessantly decimated by civil war, which gnaws at them like a hideous leprosy, and left almost uninhabitable by the neglect of the various governments, which succeed each other with a giddy and almost fabulous rapidity.
These governments, submitted to rather than accepted by these unfortunate nations, although powerless for good, owing to their precarious duration, are omnipotent for evil, and profit by it to plunder the people, and load their creatures with riches, not troubling themselves about the abyss they are opening beneath their feet, and which, daily growing deeper, will eventually swallow up all these accidental nationalities, which will be dead almost ere they are born, and have only known liberty by name, though never in a position to appreciate its blessings.
Texas, at the period when it claimed its independence, in a contest of ten years, so obstinately, counted over its entire territory only a population of six hundred thousand—a very weak and modest amount, when compared with the seven million of the Mexican confederation. Still, as we have remarked in a preceding chapter, the Texan population was composed, in a great measure, of North Americans—energetic, enterprising men, of known courage, who, annoyed by the long lasting tyranny the Federal government exercised over them, through jealousy and narrowness of views, had sworn to be free at any price, and took up arms in order to guarantee the possession of their estates, and their personal security.
The combat had been going on for ten years; at first timid and secret, it had gradually widened, holding in check the Mexican power, and at length attained that final and supreme period when the alternative is victory or death.
The surprise of the conducta, so skilfully managed by the Jaguar, had been the electric spark destined to definitively galvanize the country, and make it rise as one man for this modern Thermopylae. The independent chiefs, who were fighting all along the border, had, at the unexpected news of the decisive success obtained by the Jaguar, assembled theircuadrillas, and, by common agreement, and through an heroic impulse, ranged themselves under the banners of the youthful chieftain, and pledged him obedience, in order to carry through the liberation of their country.
Thanks to the generous assistance on the part of all the Guerilla leaders, the Jaguar suddenly found himself at the head of imposing forces, that is to say, he collected an army of about eleven hundred men. Our readers must not smile at the name of army given to what would represent a regiment with us. Never before had Texas collected so many fighting men under one Chief. And then, after all, everything is relative in this world, and the greatest masses do not accomplish the most brilliant exploits. Did we not see, a few years back, in Sonora, the heroic and unfortunate Count de Raousset Bourbon, at the head of only two hundred and fifty ragged Frenchmen, half dead with hunger and fatigue, attack Hermosillo, a town of fifteen thousand souls, enclosed with walls, and defended by twelve thousand regulars and six thousand Indians, carry itin an hour, and enter it, sword in hand, at the head of his soldiers, who did not themselves dare to believe in their heroism?[1]
The Jaguar's army was composed of men hardened by lengthened fighting, who burned to cope with the Mexicans, and who, before all, wished to be free! No more was needed for them to accomplish miracles. The Jaguar was thoroughly acquainted with the character of his soldiers; he knew that he must only ask one thing of them—an impossibility—and this he had, consequently, determined to attempt.
Through the wish of the new commander-in-chief, all the captains of cuadrillas assembled in a council of war, in order to draw up a plan of campaign. Each party gave his opinion. The debate was short, for all entertained the same idea—and that was, to seize on the Larch-tree hacienda, in order to cut off the communications of the Mexican army, prevent it from receiving reinforcements from the other states of the confederation; and, once masters of the fortress, to defeat in detail the different Mexican detachments scattered over Texan territory. As this plan was remarkably simple, the Jaguar resolved to carry it out immediately. After leaving a detachment of five hundred horseman to cover his rear, and avoid any surprise, he advanced with his main body by forced marches on the Larch-tree, with the intention of investing and carrying it by assault ere the Mexicans had found time to put a garrison in it and throw up intrenchments.
Unfortunately, despite all the diligence the Jaguar had displayed in the execution of his plan, the Mexicans, owing to the lengthened experience and infallible glance of General Rubio, had been more prompt than he, and the place had been in a perfect state of defence two days ere the Texan army appeared at the foot of its walls.
This disappointment greatly annoyed the Jaguar, but did not discourage him; he saw that he would have to lay siege to the Larch-tree, and bravely made his preparations. The Americans dug up the soil with wondrous rapidity, and a night was sufficient for them to finish the preparatory works, and make breast-works and parapets. The Mexicans gave no signs of life, and allowed the insurgents to establish themselves in their lines without opposition; by sunrise all was finished.
It was a strange spectacle offered by this handful of men, who, without artillery or siege material of any description, boldly traced lines round a stoutly-built fortress, admirably situated for resistance, and defended by a numerous garrison, which was determined not to surrender. But what in this heroic madness produced admiration, and almost stupor, was the conviction these men had that they would eventually take the place. This persuasion, by doubling the strength of the insurgents, rendered them capable of accomplishing the greatest things.
As they arrived after sunset, when the night had all but set in, the Texans had formed an imperfect idea of the defensive state of the place which they proposed to besiege; hence, when day broke, they eagerly proceeded to see what enemy they would have to deal with. The surprise was anything but agreeable to them, and they were compelled to confess to themselves in their hearts that the job would be a tough one, and that the intrenchments they proposed to carry had a formidable appearance. This surprise was changed almost into discouragement when the fortress haughtily hoisted the Mexican flag, saluting it with several rounds of grapeshot, which fell into the centre of the camp, and killed and wounded some fifteen men.
But this movement of weakness was but short; a reaction speedily took place in these energetic men, and it was with hurrahs and shouts of joy that they displayed the colours of Texan independence. For valid reasons they did not accompany the hoisting of their flag by cannon shots, but they saluted it with salvos of musquetry, whose well-sustained fire gave back to the besieged the death they had scattered through the camp.
The Jaguar, after attentively examining the fortifications, resolved to proceed according to rule, and summon the place to surrender before beginning the siege seriously. Consequently, he hoisted a white flag on the top of the entrenchments, and waited; a few moments later, a flag of the same colour appeared on the breastwork thrown up outside the place.
The Jaguar, preceded by a trumpeter, followed by two or three officers, left the camp and climbed up the hill on which the hacienda was situated. A number of officers equal to his own had left the place and advanced to meet him. On arriving at about an equal distance from the two lines, the Jaguar halted, and in a few minutes the Mexican officers, commanded by Don Felix Paz, joined him. After the usual compliments had been exchanged with extreme politeness, the Major-domo asked—
"With whom have I the honour of speaking?"
"With the Commander-in-Chief of the Texan army," the Jaguar answered.
"We do not recognise any Texan army," the Major-domo said drily. "Texas forms an integral portion of Mexico; her army, the only one she ought to possess, is Mexican."
"If you do not know the one I have the honour of commanding," the Jaguar said with a smile of superb irony, "ere long, please Heaven, it will have made so much noise, that you will be compelled to recognise it."
"That is possible; but for the present we do not know it."
"Then, you do not wish to parley?"
"With whom?"
"Come, Caballero, suppose we are frank with one another—are you willing?"
"I wish for nothing better."
"You know as well as I do that we are fighting for our independence."
"Very good. In that case you are insurgents?"
"Certainly, and feel proud of the title."
"Hum! We do not treat with insurgents, who are placed beyond the pale of the law, and who, as such, cannot offer us any serious guarantee."
"Caballero," the Jaguar exclaimed with ill-disguised impatience, "I have the honour of remarking that you insult me."
"I am very sorry for it; but what other answer than that can I give you?"
There was a momentary silence; the vigorous resistance offered him made the Jaguar feel seriously alarmed.
"Are you the Fort-Commandant?" he asked.
"No."
"Why did you come, then?"
"Because I was ordered to do so."
"Hum! And who is the Governor of the place?"
"A Colonel."
"Why did he not come in person to meet me?"
"Because he probably did not think it worth while to put himself out of the way."
"Hum! That way of behaving seems to me rather lax, for war has laws which every man is bound to follow."
"Maybe, but it is not war in this case, that must not be let out of sight."
"What is it then, in your opinion?"
"Insurrection."
"Well, I wish to speak with your Commandant, for I can only treat with him. Are you disposed to let me see him?"
"That does not depend on me, but on him."
"Very good. Can I trust to your delivering my message to him?"
"I do not see why I should not."
"Be kind enough, then, to return at once to him, and I will wait for you here, unless you permit me to enter the fortress."
"That is impossible."
"As you please; I will, therefore, await your reply here."
"Very well."
The two men bowed courteously, and took leave of each other. Don Felix Paz re-entered the fortress, while the Jaguar, sitting on the trunk of a felled tree, examined with the greatest attention the fortifications of the hacienda, the details of which he could easily survey from the spot where he now was. The young man leaned his elbow on his knee, and let his head rest on his hand; his eyes wandered over the surrounding objects with an expression of indefinable melancholy; gradually a gloomy sadness seized on his mind; while indulging in his thoughts, external objects disappeared from his sight, and isolating himself completely, he gave way to the flood of bitter recollections which rose from his heart to his brain, and removed him from the preoccupations of his present situation.
For a long time he had been plunged in this species of prostration, when a friendly voice smote his ear. The Jaguar, suddenly drawn from his reverie by the sound of a voice which he fancied he recognised, threw up his head sharply, and gave a start of surprise on recognising Don Juan Melendez de Gongora, for it was really the Colonel who was now addressing him. The Texan Chief rose, and spoke to his officers.
"Back, Caballeros," he said; "this gentleman and myself have matters to talk about which no one must hear."
The Texans withdrew out of earshot. The Colonel was alone, for on recognising the Jaguar, he had ordered his escort to await him at the base of the intrenchments.
"I meet you here again then, my friend," the Jaguar said sadly.
"Yes," the young officer answered; "fatality seems determined to keep us in constant opposition."
"On examining the height and strength of your walls," the Independent continued, "I had already recognized the difficulties of the task forced on me; these difficulties have now grown almost into impossibilities."
"Alas, my friend, fate wills it so, we are forced to submit to its caprices; and while in my heart deploring what takes place, I am yet resolved to do my duty as a man of honour, and die in the breach, with my breast turned toward you."
"I know it, brother, and cannot feel angry with you; for I too am resolved to carry out the difficult task imposed on me."
"Such are the terrible exigencies of civil war, that the men most inclined to esteem and love one another, are compelled to be foes."
"God and our country will judge us, friend, and our consciences will absolve us; men are not combating, but principles fatally placed in opposition."
"I was not aware that you were the Chief of the insurrectionary bands that have invested the place, although a secret foreboding warned me of your presence."
"That is strange," the Jaguar muttered, "for I also felt the foreboding to which you allude; that is why I so strongly insisted on having an interview with the Commandant of the hacienda."
"The same reason urged me, on the contrary, not to show myself; but I thought I must yield to your entreaty, and hence here I am; I swear to you that I should have wished to avoid this interview, which is so painful to both of us, in consequence of our mutual feelings."
"It is better that it should have taken place; now that we have had a frank explanation, we shall be better fitted to do our duty."
"You are right, friend; it is perhaps better that it should be so; let me press your honest hand for the last time, and then each of us will resume his part."
"Here is my hand, friend," the young Chief made answer.
The two men heartily shook hands, and then fell back a few paces, making a signal to their respective escorts to rejoin them. When the officers were ranged behind the Chiefs, the Jaguar ordered his bugler to sound the summons; the latter obeyed, and the Mexican trumpet immediately replied. The Jaguar then advanced two paces, and courteously took off his hat to the Colonel.
"With whom have I the honour of speaking?" he asked.
"I am," the officer replied, returning the salute, "Colonel Don Juan Melendez de Gongora, invested by General Don José Maria Rubio, Commander-in-Chief of the Mexican forces in Texas, with the military government of the Larch-tree hacienda, which present circumstances have raised to the rank of a first class fortress; and who may you be, Caballero?"
"I," the Jaguar answered, as he drew himself up, and placed his hat again on his head, "am the Supreme Chief of the Confederated Army of Texas."
"The men who take that name, and the person who commands them, can only be regarded by me as traitors and fosterers of rebellion."
"We care little, Colonel, what name you give us, or the manner in which you regard our acts. We have taken up arms to render our country independent, and shall not lay them down till that noble task is accomplished. These are the proposals I think it my duty to make you."
"I cannot and will not treat with rebels," the Colonel said, clearly and distinctly.
"You will act as you please, Colonel; but humanity orders you to avoid bloodshed, if possible, and your duty imperiously commands you to listen to what I have to say to you."
"Be it so, Caballero, I will listen to you, and then will see what answer I have to give you; but I must ask you to be brief."
The Jaguar leaned the point of his sabre on the ground, and giving a clear and piercing glance at the Mexican staff, he continued, in a loud, firm, and accentuated voice—
"I, the Commander-in-Chief of the Liberating Army of Texas, summon you, a Colonel in the service of the Mexican Republic, whose sovereignty we no longer recognise, to surrender to us this Larch-tree hacienda, of which you entitle yourself the Governor, and which you hold without right or reason. If, within twenty-four hours, the said hacienda is put into our hands, with all it contains, guns, ammunition, material of war, and otherwise, the garrison will quit the place with the honours of war, under arms, with drums and fifes playing. Then, after laying down their arms, the garrison will be free to retire to the interior of Texas, after making oath that during a year and a day they will not serve in Texas against the Liberating Army."
"Have you ended?" the Colonel asked, with ill-disguised impatience.
"Not yet," the Jaguar coldly answered.
"I must ask you to make haste."
On seeing these two men exchange savage glances, and placed in such a hostile position face to face, no one would have supposed that they were fond of each other, and groaned in their hearts at the painful part fate compelled them to play against their will. The truth was, that in one military fanaticism, in the other an ardent love of his country, had imposed silence on every other feeling, and only permitted them to listen to one, the most imperious of all—the sentiment of duty. The Jaguar, perfectly calm and firm, continued in the same resolute accent—
"If, against my expectations, these conditions are refused, and the place obstinately defends itself, the Army of Liberation will immediately invest it, carry on the siege with all the vigour of which it is capable, and when the hacienda is captured, it will undergo the fate of towns taken by assault; the garrison will be decimated, and remain prisoners till the end of the war."
"Very good," the Colonel replied, ironically; "however harsh these conditions may be, we prefer them to the former; and if the fate of arms betray us, we will endure without complaint the law of the conquerors."
The Jaguar bowed ceremoniously.
"I have only to withdraw," he said.
"One moment," the Colonel said, "You have explained to me your conditions, so it is now your turn to hear mine."
"What conditions can you have to offer us, since you refuse to surrender?"
"You shall hear."
The Colonel looked round him with a glance of assurance; then, crossing his arms on his chest, and drawing himself up with the air of sovereign contempt for those who surrounded him, began speaking in a sharp and sarcastic voice—
"I," he said, "Don Juan de Melendez de Gongora, Colonel in the service of the Mexican Republic, considering that the majority of the individuals assembled at this moment at the foot of my walls are poor, ignorant men, whom bad example and bad counsel have led into a revolt, which they detest in their hearts—for I know that the Mexican Government has ever been just, kind, and paternal to them; considering, moreover, that possibly the fear of the severe chastisement which they have deserved by their culpable conduct keeps them, against their desire and will, in the ranks of the rebels; employing the prerogative given me by my title of governor of a first class fortress, and a field officer in the Mexican army, I promise them, that if they immediately lay down their arms, and, as a proof of sincere repentance, surrender to me the Chiefs who deceived them and led them into revolt—I promise them, I repeat, a complete pardon and oblivion of the faults they may have committed up to today, but only on this condition. They have till sunset of the present day to make their submission; when that period is passed, they will be regarded as inveterate rebels, and treated as such—-that is to say, hanged without trial, after their identity has been proved, and deprived in their last moments of the consolations of religion, as being unworthy of them. As for the Chiefs, as traitors, they will be shot in the back, and their bodies fastened by the feet on gibbets, where they will remain as food for birds of prey, and serve as an example to those who may venture in their track. Reflect, then, and repent, for such are the sole conditions you will obtain of me. And now, Caballeros," he said, turning to his officers, "we will return to the fort, as we have nothing more to do here."
His hearers had listened with increasing surprise to this strange address, uttered in a tone of sarcasm and haughty contempt, which had filled the hearts of the Jaguar's comrades with gall, while the Mexican officers looked at each other with a laugh. By a sign, the Jaguar imposed silence on his comrades, and bowed respectfully to the Colonel.
"Your will be done," he said to him. "God will judge between us; the bloodshed will fall on your head."
"I accept the responsibility," the Commandant remarked, disdainfully.
"Then, the words you have just uttered are serious?"
"They are."
"You are quite resolved on opposing us?"
"Of course."
"Your resolution will not change?"
"It is immovable."
"We will fight, then," the Jaguar exclaimed, enthusiastically. "Viva la patria, viva la Independencia!"
This cry, repeated by his comrades, was heard in the camp, and taken up with extraordinary enthusiasm by his comrades.
"Viva Mejico!" the Colonel said.
He then retired, followed by his officers. On his side, the Jaguar returned to his camp, resolved to attempt a vigorous hand stroke on the place. On both sides preparations were made for the implacable struggle that was about to begin between members of the same family and children of the same soil; a homicidal and fearful struggle, a hundredfold more horrible than a foreign war!