The little band galloped silently through one of those primitive landscapes which owe nothing to art, and whose imposing and grand aspect makes us understand the infinite power of the Creator, and plunges the soul into a gentle reverie. It was one of those fresh, but lovely autumn mornings, on which travelling is so pleasant. The sun, gently rising in the horizon, spread its vivifying heat over nature, which seemed smiling on it. When you look around you in the valleys, all seemed spotted with white and blackish gray. The hills bore on their crests enormous mushrooms of granite, which affected the quaintest shapes. The soil of these hills was grayish white, and was only covered with a few faded plants already in seed.
In the plain the vegetation was yellow; here and there in the distance a few male buffaloes were scattered over the prairie like black dots. The flying locusts, some with brown wings, but the majority of a light yellow colour, were so numerous, that they literally covered the earth at certain spots.
At a slight distance off rose the lofty Bears-hand mountain, whose crest was already covered by a slight layer of snow. The crows formed vast circles in the air, and the buffaloes, elks, asshatas, and bighorns ran and bounded in every direction, bellowing and lowing.
The pirates, insensible to the charms of the scenery, and having no other moving principle than greed, galloped in the direction of the village of the Buffalo tribe, of which Stanapat (the handful of blood) was the Sachem, gradually approaching the banks of the Gila, which was still invisible, but whose course could now soon be traced, owing to the mass of vapour that rose from its bosom, and floated majestically over it, incessantly drawn up by the sunbeams.
Toward midday the band stopped to let the horses breathe, but, owing to the impatience of Red Cedar, and specially of the White Gazelle, soon started again. After descending a very steep hill, and marching for some distance in a deep ravine, that formed a species of cañon, the band at length debouched on the banks of the Gila.
A strange spectacle was the result: on both sides the stream a number of Indians apparently encamped at the spot, although their village stood a little distance off at the top of a hill, in accordance with the fashion of the Pueblos, to convert their habitations into little fortresses, were running and seeking in every direction, shrieking, gesticulating, and making the most fearful disturbances.
So soon as they perceived strangers advancing in a straight line toward them, and not attempting to conceal themselves, but marching in perfect order, they uttered frenzied yells, and rushed to meet them, brandishing their weapons, and making ready for a fight.
"Confound it!" said Sandoval, "the Indians do not seem in a good temper. Perhaps we do wrong in accosting them at this moment: from their present appearance they may play us a trick, so we will keep on our guard."
"Bah! Let me act. I take everything on myself," Red Cedar answered, with assurance.
"I ask for nothing better, my friend," Sandoval remarked; "do exactly what you please; deuce take me if I try to interfere.Caray, I know those demons too well to get into trouble with them rashly."
"Very good! That is agreed; do not trouble yourself any further."
At a sign from Red Cedar the Pirates stopped, waiting impatiently what was going to happen, and resolved, at any rate, with that brutal egotism characteristic of scamps of that sort, to remain unmoved spectators. The squatter, not displaying the slightest trepidation, threw back his rifle on its sling, and taking off his buffalo robe which he waved before him, advanced towards the Apaches.
The latter, seeing the strangers halt with their hands on their guns, and this man advancing alone as ambassador, hesitated for a moment. They formed a group, and consulted; after a hurried deliberation, two men moved forward, and also waving their buffalo robes, stood about ten paces in front of the hunter.
"What does my brother want of the warriors of my nation?" one of the Indians said, in a haughty voice; "Does he not know that the hatchet has been dug up between the palefaces and redskins, or has he brought us his scalp, to save us the trouble of going to fetch it?"
"Is my brother a chief?" the Pirate answered, displaying no emotion.
"I am a chief," the Indian replied—"my brothers call me Black Cat."
"Very good," Red Cedar continued. "I will therefore answer my brother that I have known for a long time that the hatchet has been dug up for a long time between the 'Great hearts of the East' and the Apaches. As for my scalp, I am weak enough to set an enormous value on it, gray as it is, and I have no intention of letting it be raised."
"In that case my brother acted very imprudently in coming to deliver himself up."
"The future will prove the truth of that. Will my brother hear the propositions I am commissioned to make him?"
"My brother can speak, but he must be brief, for my sons are impatient."
"What I have to say only concerns Black Cat."
"My ears are open."
"I have come to offer my brother the help of my comrades and my own—that is to say, the eleven best rifles in the prairie. By the council fire, I will explain to the chiefs what we can do to deliver them from their implacable enemy, Bloodson."
"Bloodson is a cowardly dog," the chief answered; "the Indian women despise him. My brother has spoken well, but the whites have a forked tongue: what proof will my brother give me of his sincerity?"
"This," the Pirate intrepidly answered, as he approached near enough to touch the Indian, "I am Red Cedar, the scalp hunter."
"Wah!" the chief said, his eyes flashing.
The squatter continued, without displaying any emotion—
"I have to avenge myself on Bloodson—to succeed in it I have come to you, who, till this day, have been my enemies, and on whom I have inflicted so many injuries, and I place myself in your hands, with my comrades, frankly and unreservedly, bringing you as proof of my sincerity a skin full of firewater, three plugs of tobacco, and two female buffalo-robes, white as the snows of the Bears-hand. My brother will decide—I await his answer."
The Indians, who display extraordinary temerity, are good judges of courage. A bold action always pleases them, even from an enemy; on the other hand, a present of firewater makes them forget the deepest insults.
In the meanwhile Black Cat consulted for some minutes with the chief who accompanied him. After a very long discussion, cupidity doubtless gained the victory in the Apache's mind over the desire for vengeance, as his countenance brightened up, and he held out his hand to the squatter, saying—
"The chiefs of my tribe will smoke the calumet with my brother and his companions."
Then, taking off his cap of antelope hide, adorned with feathers, he placed it himself on Red Cedar's head, adding—"My brother is now sacred; he and his companions can follow me without fear—no insult will be offered them."
The Pirates had anxiously watched the phases of this conversation. Though too far off to overhear it, they followed all the gestures of the speakers. When Black Cat placed his cap on their comrade's head, they immediately advanced, without waiting for him to give them the signal. They knew that from this moment they had nothing to fear; but, on the contrary, they would be treated with the greatest respect and utmost consideration by all the members of the tribe.
A strange fact, worthy of remark, is the way in which the American races understand and practice hospitality. The most ferocious tribes, and those most addicted to pillage, respect in the highest degree the stranger who takes a seat at their fire. This man may have killed one of the members of the family which shelters him; he may have the most precious articles about him, and be alone, but no one will dare to insult him; everyone will strive to do him all sorts of services, and supply him with everything that may be useful to him, reserving the right of mercilessly killing him a week later, if they meet him on the prairie.
The Pirates were, consequently, received with open arms by the Apaches; a tent was put up expressly for them, and they were supplied with everything they could want.
The first care of Red Cedar was to carry out his bargain with Black Cat, and pay him what he had promised. The chief was delighted; his little eyes sparkled like carbuncles, he leaped, gesticulated, and was half out of his mind. The squatter had paid him a royal ransom, which he was far from expecting ever to receive. Hence he did not leave his new friend again, whom he overwhelmed with attentions.
When the Pirates had rested and had their food, Red Cedar turned to Black Cat.
"When the council assembles," he said, "I will point out to the chief the spot where Bloodson now is."
"My brother knows it?"
"I suspect it."
"In that case I will warn thehachesto, that he may assemble the chiefs round the council fire."
"Why not light the fire here, instead of returning to the village, which will occasion a great loss of time?"
"My brother is right," the chief answered.
He rose, and immediately quitted the tent. A few moments after, the hachesto of the hill mounted a species of hillock, and shaking hischichikouiwith all his strength, invited the chiefs of the nation to assemble in council. The same announcement was made in the camp on the other side of the Gila.
An hour later, the principal Apache chiefs were crouching round the council fire, lit in the prairie at a short distance from the tent of the white men.
At the moment when Black Cat rose and was preparing to utter a few words, probably with the intention of explaining the reason of the meeting, a great noise was heard, and a mounted Indian galloped up, shouting—
"The Buffaloes! Stanapat, Stanapat!"
Another Indian arriving at equal speed from the opposite direction, shouted at the same time:
"The Siksekaï! The Siksekaï!"
"Here are our allies," Black Cat then said; "my sons will prepare to receive them."
The council was broken up. The warriors hurriedly assembled, formed in two large bands, flanked on the wings by horsemen, and ranged themselves for battle in the two directions indicated by the scouts.
The war detachment of the Buffaloes appeared descending a hill, and advancing in good order. It was composed of about five hundred warriors, perfectly armed and painted for war, and looking most martial.
A detachment of the Siksekaï of about equal strength appeared immediately after, marching in good order.
So soon as the four Indian bands saw each other, they uttered their war cry, discharged their muskets and brandished their lances, while the horsemen, starting at full speed, executed the most singular evolutions, rushing on each other as if charging, turning and curvetting round the detachments which marched on at quick step, singing, shouting, firing their guns, rattling their chichikouis, blowing their shells, and incessantly sounding their war whistles.
There was something really imposing in the aspect of these savage warriors, with their stern faces, clothed in fantastic costumes, and covered with feathers and hair, which the wind blew in every direction.
When the four parties arrived at a short distance from each other, they stopped and the noise ceased. Then the principal chiefs, holding in their hand the totem of their tribe, left the ranks, followed by the pipe-bearer, carrying a great sacred calumet; they walked a few paces toward each other, and planted the totem on their right.
The pipe-bearers filled the calumets, lighted them, bowed to the four cardinal points, and handed them in turn to the chief, while holding the bowls in their hands, and being careful that no one was passed over.
This preliminary ceremony accomplished, the principal sorcerer of the Buffaloes placed himself between the totems, and turned to the sun.
"Home of light!" he said, "thou who vivifiest everything in nature, servant and visible representative of the Great Invisible Spirit who governs the world which he has created, thy children long separated are assembling today to defend their villages and hunting grounds, unjustly and incessantly attacked by men without faith or country, whom Niang, the Spirit of Evil, has let loose upon them. Smile on their efforts, O Sun, and grant them the scalps of their enemies! Grant that they be victorious, and accept this offering made thee by thy most fervent adorer, to render thee favourable to thy sons, and make thy Apache children invincible!"
While uttering these words, he seized a light stone axe hanging at his girdle, and placing his left arm on a rock, laid open his wrist with one blow.
The blood poured profusely from this horrible wound; but the sorcerer, impassive and apparently insensible to pain, drew himself up with an eye flashing with enthusiasm and religious fanaticism, and shaking his arm in every direction, sprinkled the chiefs with his blood, while shouting in a loud voice:
"Sun, Sun, grant us our enemies, as I have given thee my hand!"
All the Indians repeated the same prayer.
The yells recommenced, and in an instant the redskins, seized with a spirit of frenzy, rushed upon each other, brandishing their weapons to the sound of the chichikouis and war whistles, and imitating all the evolutions of a real battle.
The sorcerer, still stoical, wrapped up his mutilated arm in grass, and retired with a slow and measured step, saluted on his passage by the Indians whom his action had electrified. When the tumult was slightly calmed, the chiefs assembled for the second time round the council fire, whose circle had been enlarged to make room for the allies.
The newly arrived warriors were mingled with those of Black Cat, and the greatest cordiality prevailed among those ferocious men, whose number amounted at this moment to nearly two thousand, and who only dreamed of blood, murder, and pillage.
"Confederate sachems of the powerful nation of the Apaches," Stanapat said, "you know the cause which once again draws us up arms in hand against the perfidious white men. It is, therefore, useless to enter into details you know; still, I believe, that since the hatchet has been dug up, we ought to use it till it is completely blunted. The palefaces daily invade our territory more and more; they respect none of our laws; they kill us like wild beasts. Let us forget our personal habits for an instant, to combine against the common foe, that Bloodson, whom the genius of evil has created for our ruin. If we can manage to remain united, we shall exterminate him, for we shall be the stronger! When we have conquered, we will share the spoils of our enemy. I have spoken."
Stanapat sat down again, and Black Cat rose in his turn. "We are unanimous enough to commence the war with advantage; within a few days other auxiliaries will have found us. Why wait longer? Ten white hunters of the prairies, our allies, offer to surrender to us the den of the long knives of the East, in which they tell me they have friends. What do we wait for? Let us utter our war cry and start at once; any delay may be deadly for us, by giving our enemies time to prepare a desperate resistance, against which all our efforts will be broken. Let my brothers reflect. I have spoken."
"My brother has spoken well," Stanapat answered; "we must fall like lightning on our enemy, who will be terrified by an unexpected attack; but we should not be imprudent. Where are the white hunters?"
"Here," Black Cat replied.
"I ask," the sachem continued, "that they be heard by the council."
The other chiefs bowed their heads in assent, and Black Cat rose and went to the Pirates, who were impatiently awaiting the result of the deliberation of the sachems.
In order to understand the ensuing incidents, we are compelled to return to the maidens whom we left at the moment when they escaped from Red Cedar's camp, escorted by the Canadian hunters.
The fugitives stopped a few moments before sunrise on a little tongue of sand forming a species of promontory a few yards in length on the waters of Gila, which were rather deep at this point, whence the river or prairie could be surveyed.
All was calm and tranquil in the desert. The impetuous Gila rolled along its yellowish stream between two banks clothed with wood and thick chaparral. Amid the dark green branches thousands of birds were striking up a concert, with which was mingled at intervals the lowing of the buffaloes.
The first care of the hunters was to kindle a fire and prepare the morning meal, while their hobbled horses nibbled the young tree shoots.
"Why breakfast already, Harry?" Ellen asked, "When we have been travelling hardly four hours."
"We do not know what await us in an hour, Miss Ellen," the hunter answered; "hence we must profit by the moment of respite Providence grants us to restore our strength."
The maiden let her head droop. The meal was soon ready, and when it was over they remounted and the flight commenced.
All at once, a shrill and peculiar whistle was heard in the tall grass, and some forty Indians, as if emerging from the ground, surrounded the party. At the first moment, Ellen fancied that these men were the Coras warriors Eagle-wing was to bring up; but the illusion lasted a very short while, and a glance sufficed for them to recognise Apaches.
Doña Clara, at first alarmed by this unexpected attack, almost immediately regained her coolness, and saw that any resistance was impossible.
"You would sacrifice yourselves in vain for me," she said to the Canadians; "leave me temporarily in the hands of these Indians, whom I fear less than Red Cedar's gambusinos. Fly, Ellen—fly, my friends."
"No!" the American girl exclaimed, passionately; "I will die with you, my friend."
"The two women will follow us, as well as the paleface hunters," one of the Indians commanded.
"For what purpose?" Doña Clara asked, softly.
At a sign from the chief, two men seized the young Mexican lady, and tied her to her horse, though not employing any violence.
With a movement swifter than thought, Harry lifted Ellen from her saddle, threw her across his horse's neck, and trying a desperate effort, threw himself, followed by Dick, into the thick of the redskins. Employing their rifles like clubs, they began felling the Apaches. There was, for a moment, a terrible contest, but at length Harry succeeded, after desperate efforts, in forcing his way, and set off at full speed, bearing with him Red Cedar's daughter, who had fainted from terror.
Less lucky than he, Dick, after felling two or three Indians, was hurled from his horse, and nailed to the ground by a lance. The young man, in falling, cast a despairing glance at her whom he had been unable to save, and for whom he died. An Indian leaped on his body, raised his scalp, and brandished it, all blood dripping, with cries of ferocious laughter, before the eyes of Doña Clara, who was half dead with terror and pain. The redskins then started at a gallop, carrying off their prey with them.
The Indians are not in the habit now-a-days of ill-treating their prisoners as they used to do, especially if they are women. Hence Doña Clara's abductors had not made her endure any unkind treatment.
These Indians formed part of an Apache war party, about one hundred strong, and commanded by a renowned chief, called Black Cat. All these warriors were well armed, and mounted on handsome and good horses.
Immediately after capturing the maiden, they started at a gallop across the prairie for nearly six hours, in the hope of outstripping any party that might start in pursuit, and toward nightfall they halted on the banks of the Gila. At this spot the river flowed majestically between two escarped banks, bordered by lofty rocks carved in the strangest fashion. The ground was still covered by a grass at least three feet high, and a few clumps of trees scattered over the plain agreeably diversified the landscape, which was enlivened by flocks of buffaloes, elks, and bighorns, which could be seen feeding in the distance.
The Indians raised their tents on a hill, from the top of which a very extensive view could be enjoyed. They lit several fires, and prepared to pass the night in waiting for the other warriors to join them. Doña Clara was placed by herself in a tent of buffalo skins, in which a fire was lighted, as at this advanced season the nights are cold in the Far West.
Accustomed to desert life, and familiarised with Indian customs, Doña Clara would have patiently supported her position, had it not been for the thought of the misfortunes which had so long crushed her, and of her father's fate of which she was ignorant.
Seated on buffalo skins by the fire, she had just finished eating a few mouthfuls of roast elk, washed down with smilax water, and was reflecting deeply on the strange and terrible events which had marked this day, when the curtain of the tent was raised, and Black Cat appeared.
The chief was a man of lofty stature. He was upwards of sixty years of age, but his hair was still black. He enjoyed in his tribe a reputation for courage and wisdom, which he justified in every respect. A cloud of sorrow veiled his naturally soft and placid features. He walked slowly in, and took a seat by the side of Doña Clara, whom he regarded for some moments with interest.
"My daughter is afflicted," he said, "she is thinking of her father, her heart is with her family; but my daughter will take courage, and not be cast down. Natosh (God) will come to her, and dry her tears."
The young Mexican shook her head sadly, but made no reply; the chief continued—
"I also suffer: a cloud is very heavy on my mind. The paleface warriors of her nation wage an obstinate war with us, but I know the way to make them assume the feet of antelopes, to fly far from our hunting grounds. Tomorrow, on reaching the village of my tribe, I will have recourse to a great medicine. My daughter will console herself; no harm will happen to her among us; I will be her father."
"Chief," Doña Clara answered, "lead me back to Santa Fe, and I promise you my father will give you as many rifles, powder, bullets, and looking glasses as you like to ask of him."
"That is not possible; my daughter is too precious a hostage for me to think of surrendering her. My daughter must forget the whites, whom she will never see again, and prepare to become the wife of a chief."
"I!" the maiden exclaimed in terror, "Become the wife of an Indian? Never!—make me undergo all the tortures you please to inflict on me, instead of condemning me to such a punishment."
"My daughter will reflect," Black Cat answered, "of what does the White Lily of the Valley complain? We are only doing to her what has been done to us frequently—that is the law of the prairies."
Black Cat rose, giving Doña Clara a mingled glance of tenderness and pity, and slowly left the tent.
After his departure the poor girl fell into a state of utter prostration; the horror of her position appeared before her in all its truth.
The night passed then for her, weeping and sobbing, alone, amid the laughter and songs of the Apaches, who were celebrating the arrival of the warriors of their detachment.
The next morning, at daybreak, the warriors started again, several men watching the movements of the prisoner; but Black Cat kept aloof from her.
The Indians marched along the Gila, through a yellowish prairie. Gloomy lines of chaparral, intersected by trees, whose red or grayish-brown colour contrasted with the yellow frondage of the poplars, bordered the road; on the horizon rose grand hills of a whitish grey, covered with patches of coloured grass and dark green cedar.
The band undulated like an immense serpent in this grand desert, proceeding towards the village, whose approaches could already be detected by the mephitic miasmas, exhaling from scaffoldings, seen in the distance, on which the Indians keep their dead, and let them decompose, and dry in the sun, instead of burying them.
At about two o'clock the warriors entered the village, amid the shouts of inhabitants, and the sound of the chichikouis, mingled with the furious barking of the dogs.
This village, built on the top of a hill, formed a tolerably regular circle. It was a considerable number of earth huts, built without order or symmetry. Wooden palisades, twelve feet high, served it as ramparts, and at equal distances four bastions of earth supplied with loopholes, and covered inside and outside with intertwined willow branches, completed the system of defence. In the centre of the village was a vacant space, of about forty feet in diameter, in the centre of which was the "ark of the first man," a species of small round cylinder, formed of wide planks, four feet high, round which creepers twined. To the west of the spot we have just described was the medicine lodge, where the festivals and religious rites of the Apaches were celebrated. A mannikin made of animal skins, with a wooden head, painted black, and wearing a fur cap, decorated with plumes, was fixed on a tall pole, to represent the spirit or genius of evil. Other quaint figures of the same nature were dispersed in various squares of the village, and were offerings made to the lord of life.
Between the huts was a great number of several storied scaffoldings, on which the maize, wheat, and vegetables of the tribe were drying.
Black Cat ordered Doña Clara to be conducted to acallihe had inhabited for a long time, and whose position, in the centre of the village, offered sufficient guarantee for the security of the prisoner. He then went to prepare himself for the great magical conjuration, by which he hoped to destroy the palefaces, his enemies.
When Doña Clara found herself alone, she fell despondingly on a pile of leaves, and burst into tears. The cabin serving her as a prison was like all the rest in the village; it was round, and slightly arched at the top; the entrance was protected by a species of porch, closed with a dried skin, stretched on the cross sticks. In the centre of the roof was an orifice, intended to let the smoke out, and covered with a sort of rounded cap made of sticks and branches. The interior of the hut was large, clean, and even rather light.
The mode of building these abodes is extremely simple. They consist of eleven to fifteen stakes, four or five feet in length, between which shorter ones are placed very closely together. Upon the higher poles rest long beams, inclining to the centre, and which, placed very close to each other, support the roof. Externally, they are covered with a sort of trellis work, made of branches, fastened together with bark; straw is laid over them, and earth on the top of that again.
The maiden, although she was so wearied, did not feel the slightest inclination to repose on the bed prepared for her. It was formed of a long parchment box, with a square entrance; the interior was lined with several bears' skins, on which she could have stretched herself comfortably, but she preferred crouching in the centre of the hut, near the hole in which the fire, lit to protect her from the cold, was on the point of expiring.
Toward midnight, at the moment when, despite her firm resolution to keep awake, she was beginning to doze, Doña Clara heard a slight sound at the entrance of her hut. She ran hastily, and by the dying flashes of the fire, perceived an Indian warrior.
It was Eagle-wing. The maiden suppressed with difficulty a cry of joy at the sudden appearance of the Coras Chief. The latter laid a finger on his lip; then, after looking scrutinisingly around, he walked up to the maiden, and said in a voice soft as a sigh:
"Why did not the Lily follow the road laid down Eagle-wing? Instead of being at this hour the prisoner of the Apache dogs, the pale virgin would be by her father's side."
At this remark a heart-rending sob burst from Doña Clara's bosom, and she hid her face in her hands.
"The Apaches are cruel, they sell women. Does my sister know the fate that threatens her?"
"Too well, alas!"
"What will my sister the Lily do?" the Indian asked.
"What I will do?" the Mexican girl answered, her eye suddenly gleaming with a dark flash; "A daughter of my race will never be the slave of an Apache; if my father will give me his knife, he will see whether I fear death."
"It is well," the sachem continued; "my sister is brave; great courage and cunning will be needed to succeed in what I am about to attempt."
"What does my brother mean?" the maiden asked, with a lively movement of hope.
"My sister will listen; the moments are precious; has the Lily confidence in me?"
Doña Clara looked the Indian in the face; she regarded his honest countenance for a moment, then, seizing the warrior's hand and pressing it in hers, said warmly:
"Yes, yes, I have confidence in you, Eagle-wing; speak, what do you ask of me?"
"To save you, I, an Indian, am about to betray the men of my race," the sachem proceeded sadly; "I do not say this to heighten the value of my deed, sister; I will restore you to your father. Tomorrow Black Cat will undergo, in the presence of the whole tribe, the great medicines of the sweating cabin, in order that Bloodson may fall into his hands with all the warriors he commands."
"I know it."
"My sister will be present at the ceremony. She must pay attention to my slightest signs, but, above all, must be careful that none of the Apache warriors notice the glances she exchanges with me, or we shall both be lost. Till tomorrow."
Then, bowing with a respect blended with tenderness, Eagle-wing left the calli. Doña Clara fell on her knees, clasped her trembling hands, and addressed a fervent prayer to Heaven. Without, the barking of the dogs could be heard, mingled with the howls of the coyotes, and the measured steps of the Apache warriors watching the hut.
Moukapec was one of the sentinels.
Before going further we will give some indispensable information respecting the Pueblos Indians, who are destined to play a great part in this story, which, we believe, through its novelty, will interest the reader.
These Indians hold the centre between the redskins of North America, and that race of Toltecs, on whom were grafted all the branches whose amalgamation composes the great indigenous nation of Mexico. Though living chiefly by trade and agriculture, they have not resigned all their warlike tastes.
The Pueblos are established all along the northern line of Mexico, the principal tribes being the Navajos, Apaches, Yutas, Caignas, and Comanches. The Apaches differ a little from the redskins properly so called, with whom they have a common character, however; and so do the Comanches.
The latter tribe is the most redoubtable in the desert, and calls itself proudly the Queen of the Prairies. The Comanches alone of all the Indians have managed to shield themselves from a taste for strong liquors, which are so pernicious to the red race. The Comanches possess a haughty and independent character, as the reader will be enabled to judge in the progress of our story. We will only mention here one of their customs, which will be sufficient to let them be appreciated at their full value.
Polygamy is allowed among the Comanches; each chief has six, eight or ten wives; but, among this people a marriage is arranged neither by soft words nor presents; the Comanche warrior reaches a surer and more solemn pledge. This is how he acts:
So soon as he fancies himself beloved by a woman, he kills one of his horses, plucks out its heart, and nails it all bleeding to the door of the girl he is courting. She takes it down, roasts it, and then divides it equally, giving one half to her lover, eating the other herself, and the marriage is concluded.
Up to the present, none have been able to enslave this nation, which is the terror of all the Mexican frontiers. After this explanation, we will go on with our story.
Doña Clara was aroused at an early hour by the sound of the chichikouis and other Indian instruments, with which was incessantly mingled the barking of the countless pack of dogs that always accompanies the redskins. At sunrise Black Cat entered the prisoner's cabin, and, after bowing to her, told her in his honeyed voice, while gazing eagerly at her, that he was about to make the great medicine of the Bah-oh-akan-es, in order to obtain from the Master of Life the surrender of his enemy into his hands; and that if, instead of remaining alone with her grief, she desired to witness the ceremony, she could follow him.
The young Mexican, not wishing the chief to notice the delight she experienced at this proposal, appeared to submit, and not to accept his offer.
The whole population of the village was astir, the women and children running in all directions, uttering deafening yells. Even the warriors and old men seemed to have forgotten the Indian stoicism. In a few minutes the village was deserted, so eager were all to proceed to a vast plain running along the banks of the Gila, where the great medicine talisman was to be accomplished.
Black Cat, cunning as he was, was deceived by the apparent weakness of his prisoner, and her feigned despondency. After giving her a piercing glance to assure himself that she was not playing with him, he made her a sign to leave the hut and mix with the aged women, who, like all the rest, wished to witness the ceremony; and he then retired, without having the slightest suspicion.
Doña Clara placed herself at the foot of a tree, whose tufted branches bent over the river; and there, with palpitating heart, restless mind, and eye and ears on the watch, she impatiently awaited the hour of her deliverance, although feigning to be attracted by all that went on around her.
The Indians had built a small hut, covered externally with buffalo robes, and having a low and narrow door. In order to reach this hut, a path forty feet long and one wide had been traced, crossing the village road at right angles. The grass had been torn up all along this path, and collected at its termination opposite the hut. Forty pair of moccasins had also been placed, one behind the other, in two rows, all the extent of the path.
By the side of the mound of grass burned a fire, in which the flat stones were heated. When they were red hot, they were carried into the hut, and placed on a hearth made for the purpose.
The entire population of the village, with the exception of a few women, whom their age kept apart, were seated along the two sides of the path, with a large number of dishes of Indian corn, broth, grease, and meat before them. The sorcerer was standing on the mound of grass.
At a signal he rose, and proceeded to the sweating lodge, being careful always to place his feet on the moccasins. At the door of the lodge Black Cat was standing, naked to the waist. The sorcerer, after remaining a few minutes in the lodge, came out again, holding a cutlass in his hand. He walked silently towards Black Cat, who, on seeing him, rose and stretched his left hand, saying:
"I gladly give the first joint of the forefinger of this hand to Natosh, if he will surrender my enemy to me, and allow me to lift his scalp."
"Natosh has heard thee: he accepts," the sorcerer replied, laconically.
With a blow of his cutlass he cut off the joint, which he threw over his head, uttering some mysterious words; while Black Cat, apparently insensible to the pain, continued his prayers. This operation terminated, the sorcerer took a rod made of willow branches and fastened by the tail of a prairie wolf: he dipped it in each of the dishes, and scattered the contents in the direction of the four winds, while invoking the Lord of life, fire, water, and air. These dishes, which no one had yet touched, were then divided among the spectators, who devoured them in a twinkling.
After this, the oldest warriors entered the medicine lodge: the women carefully covered them, and threw over the red-hot stones water which they drew from the sacred vessels, with sprigs of wormwood. After this ceremony, all the inhabitants began dancing round the hut, accompanying themselves with their chichikouis. During this time, he had placed on the pile of grass in front of the lodge, a buffalo head with its muzzle to the wind: then, taking a long pole covered with a brand new red blanket, which he offered to the Master of Life, he proceeded, followed by his relations and friends, to plant it before the sweating lodges.
The songs and dances continued. The sounds of the chichikouis became more animated. A species of frenzy seemed to seize on all the Indians, and the old women, who, till this moment, had remained passive spectators of the ceremony, rushed in disorder towards the lodge, uttering loud yells, and mingled with the noisy crowd.
Doña Clara remained alone at the foot of the tree, near the riverbank. No one paid any further attention to her. It seemed as if she had been forgotten in the general excitement. She took an anxious glance around: by a species of intuition she felt that the help she expected would arrive from the direction of the river. Carelessly and slowly, stooping every second to cull one of the charming flowers—something like our violets—which are the last to enamel the prairie, she approached the bank. All at once she felt herself pulled back by the skirt of her dress, and felt terribly alarmed. At the same time as this mysterious hand seized her, a voice whispered the simple words:
"To the right, and stoop."
The maiden guessed, rather than heard the words; but she obeyed without hesitation. Two minutes after, following a small path that opened before her, she found herself sheltered behind an enormous rock, on the riverbank. Two horses, saddled in the Indian fashion, were fastened to a picket near the rock. At a sign from Eagle-wing, Doña Clara leaped on to one of the horses, while the Indian bestrode the other.
"Good," he said, in his sympathising voice; "brave heart!" And letting loose the bridles of both horses, he said:
"Quicker than the storm!"
The half-tamed mustangs started more rapidly than the wind, making the pebbles strike fire under their hoofs. It was broad day, the prairie extended for an enormous distance, flat, naked, and undiversified; and at only a few paces off, the whole population of the village would not fail soon to notice them. The position was most perilous and critical; the two fugitives knew it, and redoubled their ardour, boldly braving danger. All at once a yell of rage vibrated in the air.
"Courage!" the chief said.
"I have it," the girl replied, with clenched teeth, as she urged her horse to increased speed. "They shall never capture me alive."
The Apaches, who had left their village for a religious festival, had not brought their arms with them, and their horses naturally remained in the stables. This was an hour's respite granted the fugitives.
So soon as the Indians had perceived Doña Clara's flight, the ceremony was interrupted, and all rushed tumultuously toward the village, noisily demanding their weapons and horses. Within a few minutes the most active were in the saddle, and galloping in the traces of Doña Clara and Eagle-wing.
The most celebrated European riders can form no idea of what a pursuit is on the prairies. The Indians are the finest horsemen in the world. Riveted to their steeds, which they squeeze and hold up between their nervous knees, they become identified with them, communicating their passions to them, as it were, by an electric fluid, and, like the Centaurs in the fable, they perform prodigies on horseback; rocks, ravines, hedges, currents—nothing stops or checks this furious race which is allied to madness: a living whirlwind, they fly through space with headlong speed, enveloped in a halo of dust.
Two hours passed thus, and the fugitives, bent over their horses' necks, were unable to take a moment's rest. Their half-maddened steeds, with their coats white with foam, and bleeding nostrils, reeled with fatigue and terror; their trembling sinews scarce supported them, and yet, urged on by their riders, they devoured the space, guessing instinctively that the furious band of Indians was pursuing them at a short distance.
Scarce a thousand yards separated the two parties. Black Cat, furious at having been cheated by a woman, was two horses' length in advance, and was followed by seven or eight Indians, whose horses, fresher than those of the others, had forged ahead. Eagle-wing turned round, and saw four warriors a hundred paces from him.
"Forward!" he shouted to the maiden, as he struck her horse's croup with his whip; and it bounded forward, with a supreme effort, uttering a snort of pain.
At the same time the Coras turned back, and rushing like lightning on his enemies, ere they had time to place themselves in a posture of defence, he discharged his rifle at them. An Apache fell dead. The sachem, whose horse was exhausted, felled a second foe with the butt of his gun; then, with extraordinary skill, he leaped onto the steed of the first warrior he had killed, caught the other by the bridle, and went off again, leaving the Apaches astounded by this act of boldness.
Ten minutes later he rejoined Doña Clara, who had seen with a terror, mingled with admiration, the heroic action of her defender. The maiden, beneath her apparent weakness, concealed a thoroughly manly soul. With her cheeks slightly tinged, her eyebrows contracted, her teeth clenched, and animated by the fixed idea of escaping her ravishers, fatigue seemed to have no mastery over her. It was with a feeling of indescribable joy that she mounted the fresh steed the Indian brought her.
Owing to Eagle-wing's bold stroke, the fugitives had a considerable advance on their pursuers; for the Apaches, as they came up to the spot where their two companions had been killed, leaped off their horses, and surrounded their corpses with lamentations.
Eagle-wing understood that this flight could not last, and that sooner or later they must die or yield; he therefore altered his tactics.
At a little distance from the spot where they now were the Gila was contracted; the river, reduced to a width of one hundred and fifty yards at the most, ran between two wooded hills.
"We are lost," he hurriedly said to his companion, "if we continue to fly thus. A desperate resolve can alone save us."
"Let us try it at all risks," the maiden answered, intrepidly, with quivering lip and flashing eye.
"Come!" he continued.
Doña Clara followed him without hesitation to the rugged bank of the river, when the warrior stopped.
"There," he said, hoarsely, as he pointed with a gesture full of nobility to the Apaches coming up at full speed, "slavery, infamy, and death. Here," he continued, as he pointed to the river, "death, perhaps, but liberty."
"Let us be free or die!" she replied.
As we have said, the river ran between two elevated banks, and the fugitives were now standing like two equestrian statues on the top of a hillock twenty or five-and-twenty feet in height, from which they must throw themselves into the river, an enormous leap for the horses which ran a risk of being crushed in falling, and dragging their riders down with them. But any other means of flight had become impossible.
The Apaches, spread all over the plain, had succeeded in surrounding the fugitives.
"Has my sister decided?" the Indian asked.
Doña Clara took a glance around her.
The redskins, headed by Black Cat, were scarce one hundred and fifty yards distant.
"Let us go, in Heaven's name," she said.
"May Natosh protect us!" the Indian said.
They energetically pressed the flanks of their horses, lifting them at the same moment, and the two noble animals leaped into the river, uttering a snort of terror. The Apaches arrived at this moment on the brow of the hill, and could not restrain a yell of disappointment and wrath at the sight of the desperate act.
The waters had closed over the fugitives, sending up to heaven a cloud of spray, but the horses soon reappeared swimming vigorously toward the other bank. The Indians had halted on the hill, insulting by their yells and threats the victims who escaped by such a prodigy of daring. One of them, urged by his fury, and unable to pull up his horse in time, plunged into the Gila; but, having taken his precautions badly, the fall was mortal to the horse.
The Indian slipped off, and began striking out for the bank. Instead of continuing his flight, as he should have done, Eagle-wing, impelled by that spirit of bravado natural to the redskins, re-entered the river without hesitation, and, at the moment when the Apache warrior reappeared on the surface, he bent over, seized him by his long hair, and buried his knife in his throat. Then, turning to his enemies, who watched with a shudder this terrible drama, he drew up the wretch to his saddle-bow, scalped him, and brandishing this sanguinary trophy with an air of triumph, he uttered his war yell.
The Apaches poured a shower of bullets and arrows round the Coras Sachem, who, standing motionless in the middle of the river, still waved his horrible trophy. At length he turned his horse's head, and rejoined his companion, who was awaiting him timorously on the bank.
"Let us go," he said, as he fastened the scalp to his waist belt. "The Apaches are dogs, who can do nought but bark."
"Let us go," she replied, as she turned her head away in horror.
At the moment when they started again without troubling themselves about their enemies, who, scattered along the other bank, were eagerly seeking a ford, Eagle-wing perceived a cloud of dust, which, on dissipating, permitted him to see a party of horsemen galloping up at lightning speed.
"There is no hope left," he muttered.
We will leave Eagle-wing and Doña Clara for a moment, and return to Bloodson's Teocali.
A few minutes before sunrise, Valentine awoke. "Up," he said to his companions, "it is the hour for starting."
Don Pablo and Shaw opened their eyes and got ready; but Curumilla was not there.
"Oh, oh," the hunter said; "the chief is up already, I fancy. Let us go down to the plain. We shall probably soon come across him."
The three men left the grotto, and began, by the uncertain rays of the moon, sliding down the abrupt sides of the Teocali, leaving their comrades asleep. A few minutes later, they reached the plain, where Curumilla was waiting for them, holding four horses by the bridle. Valentine gave a start of surprise.
"We had agreed to go on foot, chief," he said. "Have you forgotten that?"
"No," the other replied, laconically.
"Then, why the deuce did you saddle these horses, which are useless to us?"
The Indian shook his head.
"We shall be better on horseback," he said.
"Still," Don Pablo observed, "I fancy that it's better to follow a trail on foot, as you said yourself yesterday, Don Valentine."
The latter reflected for an instant; then, turning to the young man, he answered him with a significant toss of the head:
"Curumilla is a prudent man. We have lived together for nearly fifteen years, and I have always found it best to follow his advice. Only once I wanted to have my own way, and then I all but lost my scalp. We will mount, Don Pablo. The chief has his reasons for acting as he is now doing, as the result will in all probability prove."
The hunters leaped into the saddle, and, after a farewell glance at the Teocali, where their friends were resting, they let their horses feel the spur.
"In what direction are we going?" Don Pablo asked.
"Let us first gain the riverbank," Valentine answered. "So soon as we have got there, we shall see what we have to do. But, mind we do not separate; for in the darkness it will be almost impossible to find each other."
On the prairies, the only roads that exist, and can be followed, are paths traced for ages by buffaloes, elks, and wild beasts. These paths form labyrinths; of which the Indians alone hold the thread; hunters, however well acquainted they may be with the prairies, only enter them with the utmost precautions. When they fancy they recognise a path, they will not leave it under any pretext, certain that if they Were so imprudent as to turn to the right or left, they would not fail to lose themselves, and have infinite difficulty in finding their road again.
Valentine was, perhaps, the only white hunter on the prairies who, owing to the profound knowledge he possessed of the desert, could enter this maze with impunity. However, as all the paths inevitably lead to the banks of rivers, and this direction was the one the little party was to follow, Valentine's remark was only intended to moderate Don Pablo's ardour, and compel him to march at his side.
After a hurried ride of two hours, the hunters at length found themselves on the banks of the Gila, which rolled its yellow and turbid waters along beneath them. At the moment when they reached the river, the sun rose majestically on the horizon in a mist of purpled clouds.
"Let us stop here a moment," Valentine said, "in order to form our plan of action."
"We do not need a long discussion for that." Don Pablo replied.
"You think so?"
"Hang it all, the only thing to be done, I fancy, is to follow Red Cedar's trail."
"True: but to follow it we must first find it."
"Granted: so let us look for it."
"That is what we are about to do."
At this moment furious yells were heard not far from them. The hunters, surprised, looked about them anxiously, and soon saw a band of Indians running in every direction along the river bank. These were not more than half a league distant.
"Oh, oh," Valentine said, "what's the meaning of this?"
"They are Apaches," Shaw remarked.
"I can see that," the Frenchman said. "But what the deuce is the matter with those devils? On my honour, they seem mad."
"Wah!" Curumilla suddenly exclaimed, who was also looking, though not speaking, as was his wont.
"What's, the matter now?" Valentine asked, as he turned to the chief.
"Look," the latter replied, as he stretched out his arm, "Doña Clara!"
"What, Doña Clara!" the hunter exclaimed, with a start of surprise.
"Yes," Curumilla observed, "my brother must look."
"It is, in truth, Doña Clara," Valentine said after a minute; "what on earth can she be doing here?"
And without caring for the Indians, who, on seeing him, would not fail to start in pursuit, he hurried at full gallop in the direction of the maiden. His comrades followed him; not caring for the width of the stream at this spot, they plunged in, resolved to reach the other bank, and fly to the help of the maiden, under a shower of arrows which the Indians fired at them, while uttering yells of rage at these new enemies, who rose as if by enchantment before them.
Eagle-wing and Doña Clara were still flying, unheeding the shouts of the hunters; the horsemen the Coras had perceived were Apache warriors returning to their village from a buffalo hunt. Although they were ignorant of what had happened, the sight of their friends galloping along the river bank, and the two riders escaping at full speed, revealed the truth to them, that is to say, that prisoners had escaped, and warriors of their tribe were in pursuit of them.
The river was soon crowded with Apache warriors, who crossed it to catch up with the fugitives. The pursuit was beginning to reassume alarming proportions for Eagle-wing and Doña Clara, in spite of the considerable advance they still had on their enemies.
The Gila is one of the largest and most majestic rivers in the Far West; its course is winding and capricious—it is full of rapids, cataracts, and islets formed by the change of bed which it effects when, by an abundant overflow of water, it spreads far and wide over the country, inundating it for four or five leagues around.
Eagle-wing had seen that the only chance of safety left him was not on the prairie, where he had, not a single covert to attempt a desperate resistance, but on one of those little islets of the Gila, whose rocks and thick scrubs would offer a temporary shelter, that could not be violated with impunity. His vagabond course had, therefore, no other object but to return to the river by a zigzag route.
Valentine and his comrades had not lost one of the fugitive's movements; although they were themselves hotly pursued, they anxiously followed the incidents of this terrible struggle.
"They are lost!" Don Pablo suddenly shouted. "That Indian is mad, on my soul. See, he is trying to turn back in this direction—it is running into the wolf's throat!"
"You are mistaken," Valentine answered; "the tactics of that man are, on the contrary, extremely simple, and at the same time most clever. The Apaches have guessed them; for look, they are trying to cut him off from the river as far as they can."
"'Tis true, by heavens!" Shaw said; "We must help that man in his manoeuvre."
"That depends on ourselves," Valentine answered, quickly; "let us turn and suddenly attack the Apaches; perhaps that diversion will enable our friends to succeed."
"Well, that is an excellent idea," remarked Don Pablo; "how wise it was of Curumilla to make us ride."
"What did I say to you?" Valentine said with a smile. "Oh! the chief is an invaluable man."
Curumilla smiled proudly, but maintained silence.
"Are you ready to follow me and be killed, if necessary to save Doña Clara?" Valentine went on.
"Cascaras!" the hunters answered.
"Forward, then, in heaven's name! Each of us must be worth ten men!" the Frenchman shouted, as he suddenly turned his horse on its hind legs. The four men rushed at full speed on the Apaches, uttering a formidable yell. On arriving within range they discharged their rifles, and four Apaches fell.
The Indians, intimidated by this sudden attack, which they were far from anticipating, dispersed in every direction to avoid the shock of their daring adversaries; then, collecting in a compact mass, they charged in their turn, uttering their war cry, and brandishing their weapons. But the hunters received them with a second discharge, which hurled four more Indians on the sand, and then started in different directions to collect again, one hundred and fifty yards further on.
"Courage, my friends!" Valentine cried, "Those scoundrels do not know how to use their weapons; if we liked We could hold them in check the whole day."
"That will not be necessary," Don Pablo remarked; "look there!"
In fact, the fugitives, profiting by the moment's respite which the hunters' attack on the Apaches granted them, had reached an islet about one hundred yards in circumference, in the middle of the stream, where they were temporarily in safety.
"It is now our turn," Valentine loudly shouted; "a final charge to drive those devils back, and then to the islet!"
"Hurrah! Hurrah!" the hunters then shouted, and they rushed on the Apaches.
There were a few minutes of hand-to-hand fighting, but the Apaches at length broke, and the hunters, freed by prodigies of valour, retreated to the riverbank, from which they were not more than twenty yards distant. The others plunged into the river, but suddenly Valentine's horse stood up, gave a prodigious bound, and fell back on its rider—the noble animal was literally riddled with arrows.
The Apaches uttered a formidable yell of joy, on seeing one of their enemies rolling on the ground, and they rushed up to scalp him. But Valentine had risen to his feet immediately; kneeling behind the body of his horse, which he converted into a breastwork, he discharged at the Indians first his rifle, and then his pistols, being supported by the fire of the hunters, who had reached the islet.
The Apaches, exasperated at being held in check by one man, rushed upon him, as if to crush him beneath their weight. Valentine, to whom his firearms were now useless, seized his rifle by the barrel, and employed it like a mace, falling back step by step, but always keeping his front to the enemy.
By a prodigious chance, Valentine had not yet received a wound, save a few unimportant scratches, for the Indians were so close together that they could not use their arms for fear of wounding one another. But Valentine felt his strength deserting him, his ears buzzed, his temples throbbed as if bursting; a veil was gradually spread over his eyes, and his wearied arms only dealt uncertain blows.
Human strength has its limits, and however great the energy and will of a man may be, the moment arrives when further fighting becomes impossible, his strength betrays his courage, and he is forced to confess himself vanquished.
Valentine was reduced to this supreme point. His rifle broke in his hands; he was disarmed, and at the mercy of his ferocious enemies. All was over with the gallant Frenchman.
But the hunters, whom the Indians had forgotten in the heat of the action, seeing the imminent peril of their companion, resolutely hurried to his aid. While Eagle-wing, Don Pablo, and Shaw attacked the Indians and compelled them to fall back, Curumilla carried off his friend on his shoulders.
The contest began again, more obstinate and terrible than before, but, after extraordinary efforts, the hunters succeeded in regaining the islet, in spite of the stubborn resistance of the redskins.
Valentine had fainted, and Curumilla carried him to a perfectly sheltered spot, and silently busied himself with recalling him to life. But fatigue alone had produced the hunter's syncope, so he soon reopened his eyes, and ten minutes later he was perfectly restored.
When the Apaches saw their enemies in safety, they ceased a contest henceforth useless, and retired out of rifle range. The day passed without fresh incidents, and the hunters were able to intrench themselves as well as they could on the islet, which they had succeeded in reaching with so much toil.
The sun had descended on the horizon, and darkness was invading the sky; ere long a dense veil of gloom was spread over the entire face of nature. The Indians seemed to have given up all idea of attacking the whites, but did not leave the riverbank; on the contrary, their number momentarily increased. On either bank of the Gila they had lit large fires, and put up their tents.
The situation of the fugitives was far from reassuring; sheltered on an island, whence they could not escape without being seen by their vigilant enemies, their provisions were reduced to a few handfuls of maize boiled in water, and a little pemmican. Their ammunition consisted of twenty charges of powder at the most.
The hunters lit no fire, for fear of letting the Apaches know the exact spot where they were; collected in the middle of the island in a dense thicket, they watched over Doña Clara, who, overwhelmed by the terrible emotions of the day, had yielded to sleep, and was lying on a bed of dry leaves.
Valentine and his friends watched the movements of the enemy by the light of their bivouac fires. Opposite the island, and round a fire larger than the rest, several chiefs, among whom Black Cat could be clearly distinguished, appeared engaged in a lively discussion. At length, two men rose and advanced slowly to the water's edge; on reaching it, they took off their buffalo robes, raised them above their heads, and let them float in the breeze.
"Do you see that?" Don Pablo said to Valentine. "The redskins wish to parley with us."
"What the deuce can they have to say to us?" the hunter answered; "the demons must know in what extremities we are."
"No matter. I fancy we shall do well by receiving them.
"What does Eagle-wing think of it?" Valentine asked the Coras, who, crouched near them with his head resting on the palms of his hands, was reflecting deeply.
"The Apaches are foxes without courage," the sachem answered; "let us hear what they want."
"And you,penni, what is your opinion?" the hunter said, turning to Curumilla.
"My brother is prudent," the Aucas Ulmen replied; "we can hear the propositions of the Apaches."
"Well, as you all wish it, I consent; but I feel certain that no good will come of this interview."
"Perhaps so," Shaw remarked.
"That is not my opinion," Don Pablo said.
"Koutonepi must not receive them here," Curumilla went on. "The Apache are very crafty; they have an extremely forked tongue, and the eyes of tiger cats."
"That is true," said Valentine; "let us go and see what they want."
He rose, making Curumilla a sign to follow him; and after assuring himself that his arms were in good condition, he walked to the end of the island. The Indians were still continuing their signals, and Valentine raised his hands to his mouth in the shape of a speaking trumpet.
"What do the Buffalo Apaches want?" he shouted.
"The chiefs have to speak with the palefaces, but they cannot hear them at such a distance. Will the palefaces promise them safety if the warriors come to them?"
"Come," Valentine replied, "but mind, only two of you."
"Good," the chief said, "two warriors will come."
The Apaches consulted for an instant together, and then took from among the lofty grass in which it was concealed a light raft, which the hunters had not noticed, and prepared to gain the island.
The whites awaited them, resting on their rifles, apparently careless, but anxiously watching the shrubs on the bank, behind which the Apache warriors were doubtless hidden, and watching them in their turn.
The Indians landed and walked toward the hunters with all the etiquette prescribed by the law of the prairies. On seeing that the Indians were unarmed, Valentine handed his rifle to Don Pablo, who laid it a few paces behind him.
"Good," Black Cat muttered, with a smile; "my brother acts loyally. I expected that from him."
"Hum, chief!" Valentine answered, sharply; "Enough of compliments—what have you to say to me?"
"My pale brother does not like to lose time in vain words," the Indian said; "he is a wise man. I bring him the propositions of the principal chiefs of the tribe."
"Let us hear them, chief. If they are just, although we are not in so bad a position as you may suppose, we may possibly accept them, merely for the sake of saving bloodshed."
"There are at this moment more than two hundred warriors assembled on the riverbank; tomorrow there will be five hundred. Now, as the palefaces have no canoes, as they are not otters to plunge unseen into the 'endless river,' or birds to soar in the air—"
"What next?" Valentine interrupted him impertinently.
"How will my brothers eat, when the little provision they have is exhausted? With what will my brothers defend themselves when they have burnt all their powder?"
"I presume that is of little consequence to you, chief," the hunter answered, with ill-concealed impatience. "You did not ask the interview I have granted to talk nonsense, so I must ask you to come to facts."
"I only wished to prove to my brother that we are well-informed, and know that the palefaces have no means of flight or safety. If, then, my brothers are willing, they can rejoin their nations, without being impeded by us in their retreat."
"Ah, ah! And in what way, chief, if you please?"
"By delivering to us immediately two persons who are here."
"Only think of that! And who may these two persons be?"
"The White Lily and the Coras Chief."
"Listen, chief: if you took the trouble to come here in order to make me such a proposal, you were wrong to leave your comrades," Valentine said, with a grin.
"My brother will reflect," the Apache said, with perfect calmness.
"I never reflect when the question is the commission of an act of cowardice, chief," Valentine answered sharply. "We have known each other for a long time; many of your warriors have been sent by me to the happy hunting grounds. I have often fought against you, and never on the desert have you or your brothers had to reproach me with an action unworthy of an honest hunter."
"That is true," the two chiefs answered, with a deferential bow; "my brother is beloved and esteemed by all the Apaches."
"Thanks. Now listen to me: the maiden you call White Lily, and whom you made prisoner, is free by right and in fact, and you know very well that you have no right to ask her of me."
"Several of our brothers, the most valiant warriors of our tribe, have gone to the happy hunting grounds before their hour marked by the Wacondah: their blood cries for vengeance."
"That does not concern me; these were killed fighting like brave men, and those are the chances of war."
"My brother has spoken well," Black Cat said. "The Lily is free; she can remain with the warriors of her nation. I consent to it. But my brother cannot refuse to give up to me the Indian hidden in his camp."
"That Indian is my friend," the hunter answered nobly; "he is not my prisoner, that I can deliver him up. I have no right to compel him to leave me. If he prefers to remain with us, the chief knows that hospitality is sacred on the prairie; if Moukapec wishes to return to his brothers, he is free. But what interest have the Apaches in my giving this man into their hands?"
"He has betrayed his nation, and must be punished."
"Do you imagine, chief, that I should deliberately, and stifling every feeling of gratitude within me, place in your hands a man I love, whose devotion is known to me, in order that you may kill him with horrible torture? On my soul, chief, you must be mad."
"You must do it, or woe to you!" Black Cat said with a degree of heat he could not repress.
"It shall not be," Valentine answered coldly.
"It shall be!" a calm and haughty voice said.
And Eagle-wing suddenly appeared in the midst of the group.
"What!" Valentine exclaimed with amazement, "you would give yourself up to torture? I will not suffer it, chief: remain with your friends, we will save you, or perish together."
The Coras shook his head sadly.
"No!" he said, "I cannot do that, it would be cowardly. The White Lily of the Valley must be saved. I have sworn to her father to devote myself to her, and my brother Koutonepi must let me accomplish my promise."
"But these men," Valentine continued to urge, "have no claim on you."
Moukapec let his head sink.
"By Nuestra Señora del Pilar," Don Pablo interrupted him with emotion, "we cannot thus abandon a man who has done us many services."
Valentine, with his eyes fixed on the ground, was reflecting.
"Good," Black Cat went on; "Eagle-wing is here, the palefaces are free: they will return to their great lodges whenever they please: they will find the roads open. The Apaches have only one word; let the warrior follow me."
The Indian took a parting glance at his friends, and a sigh escaped from his chest; but with a superior effort he overcame the sorrow that choked him, his face assumed its usual mask of stoicism, and turning to the two Apache chiefs, he said in a firm voice—