"Out with it; it is always worth having."
"Must you absolutely see the governor directly you arrive?"
"Yes."
"That is vexatious."
"Why so?"
"Well!" Diego López said, looking at him with some hesitation, "Do you know the name the people give the governor?"
"No, I do not; but tell it to me; I shall be glad to learn it."
"Well! They call him the Shark."
"Ah! An ugly name, especially if deserved."
"Oh, yes, it is deserved," the peon said, with an involuntary shudder.
The hunter reflected for a moment.
"Hang it," he muttered, "what a wasps' nest I have got into!"
Then he said aloud—
"And, now, what is the advice you wish to give me?"
"You will be dumb?"
"As a fish; go on."
"Well, if you will believe me, in spite of the letter my master gave you for the governor, you will wait to present it to him till the count has rejoined you."
"Confusion! Then you suspect that I am incurring some danger?"
"A terrible one."
"Hang it, hang it, that is not reassuring."
"I will lead you to a cousin of mine who is an arriero. You will remain concealed at his house till tomorrow, and so soon as my master arrives I will warn you."
"My friend," the adventurer replied seriously, "I thank you for your advice. I see that the interest you feel in me induces you to give it me, but, unluckily, it is impossible for me to profit by it. I must present myself without delay to the governor, in spite of all the peril to which I may be exposed. But as a warned man is worth two, I shall take my precautions accordingly. But I fancy that is the town we can see."
"Yes," said the peon,
"I shall feel obliged by your leading me straight to the governor's palace."
Diego López looked at him for a moment with an air of amazement, and then shook his head several times.
"As you insist on it, I will lead you there," he said.
El Saltillo, also called Leona Vicario, is situated about 600 miles to the north of Mexico, in a fine and well cultivated plain. This town which is now rich, and has a population of about 20,000, was considerable at the period of the Spanish authority, and enjoyed some reputation through the salubrity of its climate. But we will say nothing about the Saltillo of today, which does not concern us; we will merely try to give a sketch of the town at the time when our story took place.
Like all the towns founded by the Spaniards, it is crammed with churches, several of which are very handsome and rich. The streets are wide, clean, and bordered by houses built of stone, a very rare thing in Mexico, where a continued apprehension of earthquakes is felt. Owing to the numerous springs that burst out of the ground in most of the streets, the ground, which without that would be dry and sterile, enjoys a certain reputation for fertility. Saltillo was at that period the generalentrepôtof the Spanish trade with the redskins, who went there to make exchanges, and supply themselves with the various articles they needed. The population was divided into two classes: the Spaniards, or persons who called themselves such, though the majority of them had not probably one-eighth of European blood in their veins; and the Tzascaltec Indians, the sole really intelligent and industrious inhabitants of the town.
On the day when accident led the adventurer to Saltillo, the town festival was being celebrated. In the morning after mass the clergy had fetched with great pomp the image of the Virgin from the cathedral, carried it through all the streets with hymns and music, and then put it to rest in a theatre built by the side of theacho, or circus in which the bullfights are held. After the siesta, several bullfights came off to the sound of bands stationed on either side the statue of the Virgin, then the procession continued its promenade, and finally restored the statue to the cathedral. Immediately afterwards, an open fair for the sale of cakes, sugarplums, and for gambling began, which was to last a week. The governor, who generally resided at Coahuila, the capital of the Intendancy, had come to Saltillo expressly to witness this festival, whose reputation was great throughout the land, and which attracted a crowd of strangers.
Our travellers entered the town about two hours after the fair had been opened, and suddenly found themselves in a crowd of promenaders and idlers who encumbered the streets and at some points impeded the circulation. The little party only advanced with great difficulty through the mob, which pressed round them on all sides, laughing, shouting, letting off fireworks, and throwing squibs in every direction. Naturally the further the travellers got into the heart of the city, the greater the difficulties became, and the less easy was it for them to advance; at last the crowd grew so compact around the travellers, that they found it utterly impossible to advance another step.
"The deuce take the asses with their festival," the Canadian muttered, as he looked angrily at the living wall that stood before him; "we cannot remain here, though, till nightfall."
"There is a way of arriving at the governor's house, if you like."
"What is it?" the other asked.
"It is to turn, back, take a side street, leave our horses at amesón, and then return on foot to mingle with the crowd. What is impossible for a horseman in such a throng is not so to a pedestrian, who, if he is strong, can force a passage with his elbows and shoulders. It is true that we shall run the risk of a knife thrust; but omelettes cannot be made without breaking the eggs, and if you really wish to arrive, I fancy you have no other method to employ."
"¡Viva Dios! You are right this time, gossip, even if you were the greatest liar in the whole of New Spain," the Canadian exclaimed joyously, "and I will immediately follow your advice."
But this was not so easy to perform as the adventurer imagined. The forced stoppage they had been constrained to make had rendered the crowd thicker around them, so that they were literally held in a vice by the pedestrians. Still they must deliver themselves at all risks from this pressure, which was momentarily becoming more tremendous. At an order from Diego López, the two peons in the rear began gently backing their horses—for it was impossible to turn them—a movement immediately imitated by the Canadian and his comrade, whose steeds wheeled to the right and left with an almost imperceptible movement, which, however, gradually enlarged the circle round them. But then, a frightful concert of yells, oaths, and threats, began around the hapless travellers, who in vain apologized to the people whom they struck or crushed against the walls.
The tumult gradually attained tremendous proportions. Already could be seen flashing in the sun the bluish blades of the long knives which Mexicans always carry in the right boot. As Diego López predicted, knife thrusts would soon be liberally dispensed. The position of the travellers was becoming difficult, when suddenly a lepero, one of those scamps such as are always to be found in a crowd, for whom an accident of any nature is a rejoicing, unsuspectingly and probably involuntarily freed them from their dilemma. This worthy youth had about him a stock of squibs and crackers, which he took a delight in letting off between the legs of women, or in the pockets of men, whom their evil star brought within his reach. At the moment when the popular fury attained its paroxysm, the lepero thought it a famous joke to light a squib, and let it phizz under the nostrils of the Canadian's horse.
The animal, already terrified by the shouts which deafened it, and the blows craftily dealt it, and now rendered mad by the fire that burned its nostrils, reared with a snort of pain, laid back its ears, and, in spite of the desperate efforts its rider made to hold it in, dashed into the very thickest of the crowd, throwing down everything in its path, and opening with its chest a wide gap, through which the other horsemen, who were not at all desirous of being made responsible for broken heads and women and children injured, galloped at their hardest.
There was for a moment a fearful medley. We must do the lepero the justice to say that the effort surpassed his expectations, and that he literally writhed with laughter, so delighted was he with the success of his invention. He would probably have laughed much longer, had not the horse of one of the peons, in the midst of his delight, given him a kick which hurled him to the ground, with cloven skull and chest trampled in.
Still, Clary was too thorough a horseman to feel afraid of being thrown; unable to master his horse entirely, and wishing to cause the least possible misfortune, he contented himself with turning it down a side street, the entrance to which was about a pistol shot off. He was lucky enough to succeed, and soon, thanks to the headlong speed of their horses, the four riders, after whom the mob had begun to run with yells of fury, found themselves safe from pursuit in a completely deserted street. So soon as the horses were no longer excited, they checked their speed, and soon fell into a moderate pace.
"¡Sangre de Cristo!" the adventurer exclaimed, so soon as he found time to breathe, "That was sharp work; I fancied we should not get out of it."
"Well!" said Diego López, "Your body and mine were within an ace of becoming knife sheaths. Oh!" he added, with a shudder of retrospective terror, "I can still feel the goose flesh."
"In truth, our position was for a moment extremely critical. Confound the incarnate demon who dared to burn my horse's nostrils. I only hope we have not smashed twenty of those wretches; I shall never forgive myself if we have."
"No," the peon answered, "thank heaven, they are more frightened than hurt. Luckily the house doors were open, and they were able to find shelter in them; two or three at the most were injured."
"Heaven grant that the mischief is no greater; but what are we to do now?"
"Proceed to the nearest mesón to get rid of our horses."
"I ask for nothing better; lead me there directly."
"Where are we, in the first place?" the peon said, as he looked round to discover his whereabouts. "¡Viva Dios!" he continued at the expiration of a moment, "We are in luck; there is a mesón a few yards from here; come on."
They started again, and soon reached the mesón Diego López had spoken of. Mexican hostelries are all alike, and when you know one, you know a thousand. Travellers who bring with them their beds, provisions, and forage for their horses are alone certain of being well served, and wanting for nothing; those who neglect these essential precautions run a great risk of lying on the bare ground and dying of hunger. The landlords only supply water and a roof, and it is useless to ask them for anything beyond that: not even a cigarette could be obtained for any money. It is true that Mexican landlords possess one precious quality, or, to speak more logically, four. They are thievish, insolent, obstinate as mules, and only lodge travellers who have the good luck to please them.
Fortunate it was that Diego López had long been acquainted with the landlord to whose house he led his comrades. Had it not been so, they would have run a great risk of not finding a shelter for the night. But, thanks to the peon's omnipotent intervention, the landlord consented to receive the travellers, and allowed them to lead their horses to thecorral. When the horses had been unsaddled, and a good stock of alfalfa and maize had been laid before them, the Canadian wrapped himself up in his zarapé, and prepared to go out.
"Where are you going?" Diego asked him.
"You know very well," he answered; "I am going to the palace."
"You are quite determined, in spite of what I said to you?"
"More than ever."
"In that case wait for me."
"What to do?"
"¡Caray! To accompany you. How do you expect to find your way through a town you have entered today for the first time in your life?"
"That is true, and thank you."
The peon, after giving his companions orders to await his return, and bowing courteously to the landlord, who deigned to return his salute with a protecting air, left the mesón, accompanied by the Canadian. To do full justice to Oliver Clary, we will allow that he was anything but reassured as to the probable results of the step he was about to take, and the words of the peon buzzed in his ears. He did not make the slightest mistake as to his position, and in spite of the assurances the count had given him, he was perfectly well aware that he ran a risk of being hung, if the man before whom he was about to appear were such as he had been represented.
But the adventurer was one of those men who never play fast and loose with what they consider a duty, and who, once they have formed a resolution, push on to the end, careless of what the consequences may be. Hence, when Diego López, who, since he had learned that his companion was a Catholic, felt sincerely attached to him, tried to return to what he had told him, and counsel himself once again to defer his visit until his master's arrival, the hunter immediately bade him be silent, while perfectly understanding the correctness of his reasoning, and obliged him to talk about indifferent matters.
In spite of the ever increasing crowd in the street, the two men had no serious difficulty in making their way. It is true that they were men who created a certain amount of respect by their muscular appearance. Although they were obliged to advance very slowly, still in a comparatively short period they reached the Plaza Mayor, where, owing to its vast dimensions, they were enabled to walk more freely.
We have said that Leona Vicario was a large town, that its squares were spacious and its streets wide. The Plaza Mayor, the largest of all, had really a grand aspect. Two sides were lined with portales in the shape of cloisters, lined with shops where goods of every description were sold; of the two other sides, one was occupied by the cathedral, the other by theCabildo, or Town Hall. In the centre of the square rose a monumental fountain, from which burst a clear and limpid stream of water. This fountain was surrounded by posts, fastened together by bronze chains of rather curious workmanship. Attracted by the fair, a multitude of peddlers had installed themselves in the square, vending all sorts of rubbish to the mob which pressed around them.
The two men who entered the square by the Calle de la Merced, were obliged to go to the further extremity in order to reach the cabildo, which was the temporary residence of the governor general of the intendancy. The cabildo was at this period (I do not know if it be still in existence) a building in a heavy and paltry style, built of stone, and having tall, straight, narrow windows, defended by heavy iron bars. Two lancers were walking with a most weary air in front of the principal gate, which was thrown wide open, and gave access to the interior by a flight of five steps.
"We have arrived," said Diego López, as he stopped in front of the ugly building we have just described.
"At last!" the adventurer answered, as he looked curiously about him. "¡Caray! I was beginning to fancy that we should never reach our journey's end."
"Here we are; as you insisted on my leading you hither, I have done so."
"And I thank you for doing it, gossip; now that you have honourably performed the far from agreeable task entrusted to you, leave me to my own business, and go and amuse yourself at the fair."
"Hang me if I do anything of the sort," the peon answered; "I am too sorrowful."
"Nonsense! Why bother yourself so? All will finish, I feel convinced, much better than you have supposed."
"That is possible, and I wish it may be so, but I confess that I do not expect it; I will not attempt to dissuade you anymore; a fool cannot be prevented from committing folly."
"Thank you," the adventurer said with a laugh. The other shook his head mournfully.
"I am going to watch for my master," he continued; "he has great influence over the governor, and, if you are not hanged, I hope he will save you."
"I hope too that I shall not be hanged."
"¿Quién sabe?" the peon muttered.
The Canadian, who was not particularly pleased by these ill-omened prognostics, hastened to take leave of his croaking companion. The latter looked after him until he disappeared in the cabildo, after exchanging a few words with the sentry; then he returned very thoughtfully to the mesón, muttering—
"I don't care; I will not start till I know whether he is hung; it is surely the least I can do for a good Catholic like him."
Oliver Clary had entered the cabildo. From this moment he could not recoil, but must push on. The brave and careless Canadian took a last and sorrowful glance at the square in which a merry crowd, whose cries reached his ears, was assembled; he gave a sigh of regret, and hung his head on his chest for a moment; but almost immediately subduing this sadness, which was unworthy of him, he effaced every trace of emotion from his face, drew himself up proudly, and with a calm step entered a hall in which were standing ushers, easily to be recognized by the silver chain round their neck. So soon as he appeared, one of these ushers left the group, and walked up to him with a slow and solemn step.
"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked, impudently.
"Who I am?" he answered drily, "That does not concern you, my master. What I want? To speak to His Excellency Don Garcia López de Cárdenas, General commanding the Intendancy."
"Oh, oh!" the usher said, as he looked impudently at the adventurer's modest and more than careless dress; "You come like that, without the slightest ceremony, to demand an audience of his Excellency! Come, my good fellow, follow good advice and begone; the mezcal is disturbing your head; go to sleep, keep your feet warm, and do not trouble yourself any further with such nonsense."
Not letting himself be disconcerted the least in the world by this tolerably coarse apostrophe, the adventurer looked for an instant at the speaker with such an expression that the latter turned his head away in embarrassment; then he seized him by a button of his coat.
"Listen to me, Señor Scamp," he said, in a low and menacing voice; "in any other place but the one where we now are, the words you have just uttered would cost you dearly; but I despise you too much to be insulted by them. I pardon you, but only on one condition—that you will immediately announce to his Excellency, Señor Don Olivero Clary, and hand him at the same time this letter from his seigneury, the Count de Melgosa. Begone!"
He let go the usher's button, and the latter, quite abashed, turned round two or three times, and, without saying a word, quitted the hall. The Canadian folded his arms on his chest, and waited for his return, while looking disdainfully at the other servants, who bent on him curious and almost startled glances. The usher's absence was short. He appeared almost immediately, and throwing both doors wide open, he said, as he bowed ironically to the Canadian—
"His Excellency General Don Garcia López de Cárdenas requests Señor Don Olivero Clary to have the condescension to enter."
The adventurer understood that the critical moment had arrived. Without displaying the slightest hesitation he entered the room, the doors of which had so suddenly been opened to him. But, when he had crossed the threshold, he felt that species of confusion and timidity which attacks the bravest men when they are violently thrown out of the medium in which they are accustomed to live. It is plain that the adventurer would have preferred finding himself face to face with a whole tribe of ferocious redskins, instead of entering this brilliantly gilded room, and a crowd of smart officers, whose eyes he felt, instinctively, were fixed upon him. A feverish flush covered his face, a cold perspiration beaded on his temples, and his heart beat as if it would burst from his chest. It was not fear he felt, it was not shame he experienced, nor was it weakness; but it was a mixture of all those feelings which filled his bosom, and made his temples beat.
Still, through a prodigious effort of his will, he succeeded not only in almost entirely concealing this strange emotion, but also so completely surmounted it that he was able to walk with a firm step toward the general, whom he saw standing at the other end of the saloon, in the midst of a group of field officers; and who, with his hand on his sword belt, bent on him a glance such as rattlesnakes are said to employ in fascinating their victims.
General de Cárdenas was a man not more than forty years of age, of tall and imposing stature; his face was harsh, dark, and cruel; he had a mocking lip and cynical glance; his low forehead, his eyes close to his long hooked nose, and his prominent cheekbones, veined with violet lines, gave him a certain resemblance to the feline race. He was dressed in the splendid uniform of a general, glistening with gold lace. At this moment he was biting his greyish moustache, and clanking the wheels of his spurs on the ground—a sign by which his intimate friends knew that he was suffering from intense passion.
Don López de Cárdenas belonged to the highest Spanish nobility, and was a caballero cubierto; he had gone through, with some distinction, the whole of the Peninsular war; but, in spite of his thorough bravery, and his undeniable talent, he had let himself be led away by his evil nature to behave so ferociously to the enemy during the retreat of the French, that the King of Spain, who did not feel at all secure on a throne which he owed rather to chance than his personal ability, was constrained to dismiss him, as he did not dare to brave the public protest against favours he might have granted such a person. Mexico, which was then in full revolt, seemed to the king the only place to which he could send General de Cárdenas, without appearing to exile him.
The general, aware of the hatred with which he was regarded, was not sorry, temporarily, to quit the scene of his dark deeds. Another reason made him accept, almost joyfully, the post confided to him: his fortune, compromised during the long Peninsular war, was no longer adapted to the demands of his pride and the position to which his birth gave him the right of aspiring. He thought that it would be easy for him, in a country distracted by revolutions, to fish in troubled waters, and get together in a few years a fortune larger than the one he had lost. His beginning in New Mexico did not contradict his past: it was such as might be expected from a man like him, and gave the Mexicans, whom, for their misfortune, he was chosen to govern, an exact measure of the justice they had to expect from him. Hence, he had resided scarce a year in Mexico ere the people, who are rarely mistaken in their appreciation, branded him with the name of the Shark—a characteristic name, were there ever one; for, like the shark, he was rapacious and cruel. Only one person had a precarious and often contested influence over this man: it was Count de Melgosa, to whom he was attached by family ties.
It was face to face with this human-faced tiger that chance placed the adventurer. The situation was not at all pleasant; still he did not let himself be disconcerted. On coming within a few paces of the general he stopped, bowed respectfully and waited till the other should address him, in a posture which, without evidencing the slightest arrogance, showed that he was not the man to let himself be domineered over, and that he would bravely enter on the coming struggle. The general looked at him fixedly for a few moments, and then said, in a hoarse and menacing voice—
"Who are you, in the fiend's name?" he asked.
"The letter I had the honour of delivering to your Excellency must have already informed you," the Canadian answered.
"Do you fancy, scoundrel," the general continued furiously, "that I have nothing better to do than read the absurd letters sent me from all sides?"
These few words, exchanged with the terrible officer, had given the adventurer time to resume all his calm and reckless bravery. He advanced a step, bowed profoundly, and said briefly, although his accent was respectful—
"I have the honour of drawing your Excellency's attention to the fact that I am no scoundrel, but a man of honour; that I have come here, entrusted with an important mission; and that Count de Melgosa, whose reputation for loyalty cannot be doubted, of his own accord became my guarantee to your Excellency. These are two reasons why I have a right to be treated with due consideration."
"You crow very loudly for a young cock; take care lest I should have a fancy to cut that comb which you raise so daringly," the general answered with a mocking smile.
"I do not know what your Excellency means. If you do not think proper to hear what I have to say, I venture to hope that you will allow me to retire."
After uttering these words in the same firm tone he had maintained since the beginning of this singular interview, the adventurer made a move to leave the hall.
"Stop, I order you," the general said suddenly; "you please me—so speak without fear. Who are you? Now don't tell any lies, for, perhaps, I know more about you than you suppose."
"I care very little what your Excellency may have learnt about me. I am an honest wood ranger—a Canadian by birth, and at the present moment colonel in the service of the Mexican patriots, commanded by Father Don Pelagio Sandoval."
"Ah, ah," the general muttered in the same mocking way; "go on, my lad, you have forgotten to tell me your name."
"I have several; my real one is Oliver Clary the redskins have christened me the Sumach, and the white men of the prairie generally call me 'Death in the face.'"
"Death in the face?" the general repeated with a grin, "Perhaps we shall soon see whether you really deserve that name."
"No man should praise himself; still, I believe that there are few dangers I am not capable of confronting," he answered resolutely.
"We shall see, we shall see, gossip. Now give me a report of the mission with which you have been entrusted by the honourable scoundrels of whom you have so foolishly made yourself the scapegoat."
The Canadian shrugged his shoulders.
"It is easy to threaten a defenceless man," he muttered in a voice loud enough to be heard by the general.
"Make haste," the latter continued.
Clary, without any hurry, felt in a pocket of the coat he wore under the zarapé, took out the despatches Father Sandoval had entrusted to him, and presented them to the general with a bow.
"The Mexican patriots," he said, "hope that your Excellency will deign to lay before the governor this humble petition, which contains the enunciation of their grievances, and the concessions they wish to obtain from his justice."
The general took the letter, crumpled it in his hand, and threw it on a table, without reading. There was a moment of mournful silence; the officers, who knew the general's violent and implacable character, awaited a tragical finale, and were especially alarmed by the unusual patience which their chief had displayed. The latter did not leave them long in doubt.
"Now, scoundrel," he continued in a rough voice, "you have said all, I think?"
"Yes, all, Excellency."
"And I have listened to the end without interruption?"
"Yes, Excellency."
"I am accustomed," he continued, "to be patient with people who are about to die."
"What!" the Canadian exclaimed, as he hurriedly fell back a pace.
"Did you suppose that, had it been otherwise, I should so long have listened to your impudent chatter; let him be strung up."
"Take care what you are going to do," the adventurer shouted, seizing the brace of pistols hidden beneath his zarapé, "I will defend my life to the last breath."
"It is your right," the general said with a laugh; "I will make use of it, be assured. Tomorrow you will have to account for my death to Count de Melgosa, whom you will have dishonoured by despising his safe conduct."
These words, uttered somewhat haphazard by the Canadian, and rather in the hope of gaining time than for any other reason, produced greater effect than he had expected on his hearers. The latter, who, up to this moment, had seemed to take very slight interest in the scene, and had gone on talking together in a low voice, suddenly broke off; several of them walked up to the general, to whom they appeared to make representations, which he listened to with a haughty smile.
"I will remark to your Excellency," said an old gray-bearded officer, "that Count de Melgosa is alcade mayor of the town, that his honour is dear to us all, and that it will, perhaps, be as well to await his arrival before hanging this poor man."
"Nonsense, caballero," the general answered ironically, "do you really believe in this safe conduct? Do you suppose that if the count really took an interest in this scoundrel he would not have accompanied him?"
"Your Excellency is doubtless in the right, but it is not long till tomorrow, and, perhaps, it will be as well to wait till then."
"The more so," another added, "because the count will, in all probability, arrive at an early hour."
"Well, as you insist," the general said, with visible repugnance, "be it as you wish. Throw down your pistols, villain," he added, addressing the adventurer, who still stood on the defensive, "no hurt will be done you."
"That is possible," the latter said, shaking his head doubtfully; "but what has happened up to the present gives me no security for the future, and simple though I am, I am not quite so simple as to give up my weapons before I am certain that no trap is being laid for me."
"You will remain in prison till the count's arrival. If you have lied you will be hung; if not, you can go to the deuce. Are you satisfied?"
"Not excessively so. Still, I desire to prove to you of what an honest man is capable. I do not value life, and care precious little about supporting a good cause. There are my weapons," he added, throwing them on the floor, "do you what you please with me; I am now defenceless, and I leave the shame of my death to you."
The general himself seemed touched by this proof of confidence.
"¡Viva Dios!" he exclaimed, "you are really a brave fellow. We will try and save you from the gallows, if it be possible. Lead him away, but do him no harm."
Several officers, who probably would not have ventured to approach the athletic Canadian while he still held his pistols, now stepped forward to seize him.
"No one must lay hands on me," he said, "I have surrendered, and do not intend to resist: go on. I will follow."
"He is right," the general said with a laugh; "do not collar him, but leave him the use of his limbs. He is a thorough fighting cock; he has pledged his word and will keep it."
"Thanks for that remark, Excellency," the adventurer said; "I see that you are a connoisseur in the matter of men; go on, señores, I am ready to follow you."
A party of officers at once surrounded him, and he quitted the room. At the door he perceived the usher, who looked at him impertinently, but he merely shrugged his shoulders in contempt. His escort, without leaving the cabildo, led him through a labyrinth of passages, which would have been puzzling to anyone unacquainted with the gloomy building.
"Where the deuce are you leading me, my masters?" the prisoner asked; "Does this palace also contain cells?"
"Cells and dungeons," one of the officers replied; "it communicates with the Tribunal of the Holy Inquisition."
"Come," the Canadian said, with a laugh, "that is very convenient; in that way his Excellency the General can lay hands on his prisoners whenever he thinks proper."
This sally made the officers laugh. A moment after they informed the prisoner that they had arrived. They halted, and one of them, who bore a large bunch of keys, selected one, and opened a low and apparently very substantial door; a puff of hot foetid air at once issued from the opening. The Canadian gave an involuntary shudder, but his guardians allowed him no time for reflection; they thrust him unceremoniously into the dungeon, bolted the door upon him, and the prisoner suddenly found himself in complete darkness.
"Well," he muttered, so soon as he was alone, "I believe that Diego López was right, and that I acted like an ass in not following his advice."
Unfortunately for him, this sensible reflection came too late.
However brave a man may be it is not without a feeling of instinctive terror that he finds himself suddenly cut off from society and shut up far from the company of other men, deprived of light and almost of the vital air necessary for the due play of the lungs. Darkness brings with it sad and despairing thoughts; and however powerfully a man's character may be tempered the first moments he passes in a dungeon, whatever may be the cause that has led him there, are crushing; but, fortunately, hope is the last feeling that breaks down in a man's heart. His thoughts, constantly directed to the future, promptly recall to his heart the courage which had deserted it, and in a few hours, growing accustomed to his dungeon, he shakes off the prostration which had seized upon him, regards the position calmly, and only dreams of the means by which to regain the liberty he has lost, for that is the sole object of his thoughts, desires, and efforts.
The adventurer experienced all the feelings we have attempted to describe; but as he was an energetic man, accustomed for many years to a life of struggle, mixed up with strange episodes, he did not allow himself to be overcome by the horror of his situation, but, on the contrary, regarded it with considerable calmness and philosophy. When he had succeeded in restoring some order in his ideas, which had been upset by such rapidly succeeding events, he prepared to inspect his dungeon, which did not appear so dark as when he entered. In fact, on leaving the daylight his eyes had been at first blinded by the darkness, but they gradually grew accustomed to the obscurity, and now, though he could not see clearly, he was able to distinguish objects sufficiently to walk about without groping his way.
"Well," he said, talking to himself, after the fashion of men accustomed to live alone, "thanks to my good idea of not letting myself be touched, I have not been stripped of anything I possessed, and, spite of throwing the pistols on the ground, I could in case of need defend myself bravely with the weapons which I still possess. Let me reflect a little on what I had better do; and in the first place, according to the Indian fashion, I will smoke a pipe, for there is nothing like tobacco to clear the brain."
The Canadian's position was far from being desperate, and he saw this now that he was cool. In the matter of arms he still possessed a brace of pistols, and a knife with a long, sharp blade, a powder flask, a bullet bag, tobacco, and everything requisite for striking a light, if he wanted it. These different articles, hidden beneath the wide folds of his zarapé, which fell from his shoulders to his knees, had escaped the notice of his guards, who, moreover, acting in conformity with the orders the general had himself given, had not attempted to approach the prisoner.
As he had resolved, the Canadian seated himself as comfortably as he could, with his back against the wall, lit his pipe, and fell into a deep reverie. He smoked thus for a few minutes with all the beatitude of an Indian sachem, when he gave a start of surprise, almost of terror, on hearing a sarcastic voice say, two paces from him—
"Ah, ah! The paleface escaped the redskins, but his own brothers have seized him."
"Is there another prisoner in this dungeon?" the hunter asked.
"Yes," the stranger said, laconically.
"Who may you be, comrade; and why do you seem to rejoice so greatly at my misfortune?"
"Running Water is a chief," the voice answered. "His heart is glad when he sees a paleface suffer."
"Much good may it do you, chief; but I don't exactly see what profit you can derive from my sufferings."
"Running Water is an enemy of the Yoris."
"In the first place, redskin, let us settle facts; I am not a Yori, but a Canadian hunter, which I take some pride in informing you is by no means the same thing."
"Does my brother speak truly? Is he really a great heart of the east?"
"I fancy that you can recognize that fact from my way of speaking Spanish. But where the deuce are you stowed away, chief, for I cannot see you?"
"I am close to my brother, seated on his right hand."
The hunter looked carefully in the direction which the strange speaker indicated, and at length distinguished a human form crouched in a corner of the wall.
"On my word," he continued, "I am not sorry to have someone to talk to, for time passes more quickly. Tell me, chief, what have you done to be here?"
"Are not the Indians hunted like wild beasts by the Yoris?" he answered, bitterly. "Is a pretext wanted to kill a redskin?"
"That is true, chief. You are right. It is unhappily but too true. And have you been a prisoner long?"
"Running Water fell into the trap he set for others. The sun was level with the lowest branches at the moment when his enemies threw him into this hole like an unclean beast."
"That is a sad thing for you, chief; the more so, as in all probability you will only leave it to march to your death."
"It will be welcome," the Indian said in a hollow voice, "since Running Water's vengeance has escaped him."
There was a silence, during which the two men reflected.—
"If you succeeded in getting out of this hole, as you term it so correctly," the Canadian presently continued, "and your liberty were restored you, would you be grateful to the man who did you so great a service?"
"My life would belong to him," the Indian exclaimed eagerly; but quickly recovering himself, he added, "Why should I believe such words? All the palefaces have crooked tongues; moreover, is not my brother a prisoner also?"
"That is true; but I may possibly find means to aid your escape. I have my plan; although my detention ought to be short, I have but very slight confidence in the word of a man who, contrary to the law of nations, put me here; and, perhaps, instead of waiting for a problematical tomorrow, I shall attempt to escape with you tonight. I am not at all anxious to dance at the end of a rope."
The greater part of this explanation was thrown away on the redskin, who did not understand it in spite of the great attention he paid to the hunter.
"Hence," the latter continued, "if you will let me act in my own way, we shall probably go away together, the more so because I have no reason to owe you a grudge, as you never did me any harm."
"Running Water is a chief," the redskin replied emphatically; "he will not lie to save his life."
"Good. I know the principles of you Indians, and that when you believe yourself at death's door you seem to forget your system of dissimulation, so explain yourself. I shall put faith in your words whatever you may say."
"Let my brother listen. He was attacked two nights ago by the redskins."
"True, chief. It would be droll had you been among the Indians who attacked us."
"Running Water was there, but was ignorant of my brother's presence. He only attacked the Yoris."
"What you say seems to me tolerably probable. Still, White Crow came to my camp and I had a rather long interview with him."
"My brother's words are true, but at that time the attack was resolved on."
"In that case, I have nothing more to say. It was all right, for war has its laws. Still, listen to me, chief, your words have caused me to reflect."
"Ah!" the Indian said bitterly, "Has the paleface changed his opinion now?"
"Not positively, chief. Still, I confess frankly to you that, after the avowal you have made, I feel a certain repulsion to joining my fortunes to yours."
"What do the palefaces care for an Indian's life? He is not a man."
"You wrong me, chief; but I know that misfortune makes men unjust, and I forgive you."
"My brother is generous," the chief remarked ironically.
"More so than you imagine; if you will be pleased to listen without interruption you shall have a proof of it."
"My brother can speak, my ears are open."
"I repeat that for certain present reasons I prefer remaining here, and running the risk of what may happen to trying to escape with you; but, for all that, I will not desert you, and, on the contrary, give you the means to attempt a flight."
"Good, what are the means?"
The Canadian drew his knife from the sheath.
"It is probable," he continued, "that a gaoler will soon come to bring us food, for I do not suppose that they intend us to die of hunger. Take this knife; notice, by the by, that it is a most valuable weapon for a prisoner, and that I give up mine for your sake. When the man to whom I refer appears, you will see what you have to do. Still, avoid killing him if you can, for we must never kill even an enemy unnecessarily."
The Indian seized the knife which the Canadian handed him, brandished it round his head with a laugh of savage joy, and then passed it through his belt.
"Thanks, paleface," he said with an accent of profound gratitude. "You have done more for me than I ever could have expected from a man of your colour. To you I shall owe my escape from death, liberty, and the accomplishment of the vengeance I have so long been pursuing. My life belongs to you, henceforth you are the master of it. Remember that you have a brother among the Comanches; the redskins never forget an insult, and always retain the memory of a kindness. Now, I am certain that you are not a Yori. May the Wacondah protect and be ever favourable to you. You have caused my heart a sensation of happiness such as it has not felt for many years."
After uttering these words with all the emphasis natural to his race, the Indian chief crouched down facing the door, and awaited with feverish impatience the arrival of the gaoler. The Canadian laughed inwardly at the trick he was about to play the general. In his opinion, what he had done was quite fair; he had no consideration to maintain for individuals who had disregarded the law of nations in their treatment of him, and after threatening to hang him, cast him like a dog into a filthy dungeon. Besides, he had for the Indians generally that instinctive pity which strong men feel for those whom they believe intellectually inferior to them. And then, was not the Indian a prisoner like himself? He, therefore, regarded him as an ally, and in favouring his flight, he secured himself a valuable friend for the future in the event of his falling into the hands of the redskins.
The two men remained silent, for they had nothing more to say to each other. Several hours elapsed in this way. The redskin, calm, cold, and motionless, was watching for the arrival of the gaoler, as the jaguar of his forests does the prey that nourishes it, and the hunter, careless of what was going on around him, had wrapped himself in his zarapé, and was leaning half asleep against the wall. Probably, in the confusion of the festival, the man ordered to supply the prisoners with food let the hour pass, for the sun had long set, although the denizens of the dungeon could not perceive the fact, and nothing led to the supposition that they would be fed.
"The deuce," the Canadian at length said, shaking himself ill-temperedly, "do these gabachos of Spaniards intend to keep us without supper? I am dying of hunger, caray! And you, chief, do you not feel the want of some food, were it only a lump of hard bread?"
"The redskins are not greedy squaws. They can endure hunger without complaining."
"All that is very fine, but I am not an Indian, and when I have nothing to eat, deuce take me if I do not become ferocious."
"Silence," the Indian said as he listened attentively, "my brother will soon eat. I hear footsteps approaching."
The adventurer held his tongue. For a moment he forgot his hunger to witness the scene that was about to take place. A considerable period of time elapsed ere the noise which had struck the practised ear of the savage was perceptible to the hunter. At length he heard the sound of footsteps, which grew louder and louder. A key turned in the lock, the bolts were drawn, the door swung back on its rusty hinges, and a man entered, holding a lantern in one hand and a basket in the other.
At the moment when this individual appeared in the doorway, the Indian leapt on him with a tiger's bound, threw him down and seized him by the throat; before the poor fellow so unexpectedly attacked had time to utter a cry or make the slightest effort in his defence, he was bound and gagged. The Comanche, leaping over his body, ran down the passage and disappeared with extraordinary rapidity. All this took place so hurriedly, that the hunter guessed rather than saw what had occurred. The gaoler still lay motionless, with half his body inside, the other half outside, the dungeon. When the Indian had disappeared, the hunter rose and went up to the gaoler.
"What the deuce are you doing there?" he said, as he bent over him and freed him with studied slowness from the bonds and the gag which the chief had driven in so conscientiously that he almost choked his man. When the gaoler was liberated, and put on his legs again by his prisoner, he looked around him in alarm, breathed forcibly two or three times, and then, uttering an exclamation of rage, he dashed down the passage with shouts and oaths, forgetting in his hurry to lock the cell door.
"Seek him," the hunter muttered with a cunning look, "you will be very clever if you catch him. I know not what will come of all this; but the general will be furious, and that is the main point."
And, without dreaming of imitating the chief's example, he picked up the lantern, which by a singular chance had not been extinguished, took the basket, returned to the cell, sat down on the ground with the light in front of him, and began eating with philosophic ease, growling from time to time at the parsimony of the Spaniards, who had hardly given him enough to appease his outrageous hunger. The Canadian was in the thick of this agreeable operation, when he suddenly heard in the passage a tremendous tumult of shouts and hurried footsteps, mingled with the clang of arms. A few minutes after, twenty officers and soldiers dashed like a whirlwind into the dungeon, among them being the gaoler, who alone gesticulated and shouted more than all the rest. On seeing the hunter quietly engaged in eating, they stopped in amazement, so convinced were they that he would have escaped too. When the agitation and tumult were slightly appeased, and it became possible to hear anything, one of the officers at length addressed the hunter.
"What," he asked him, "have you not gone?"
"I?" he replied, looking up stupidly, "Why should I do so, as I shall be free tomorrow?"
"You helped your companion's flight," the gaoler said, shaking his fist at him.
"You are an idiot, my friend; the man could not be my companion, as he is an Indian," he said, with the greatest calmness.
This remark so agreed with the ideas of his hearers, who, in their Castilian pride, did not admit that an Indian was a man like another, that the conversation broke off abruptly here; the more so, because nobody could suppose that a man who had favoured the flight of another, would not have escaped himself. Hence, instead of reproaching the hunter, the Spaniards apologized to him, and went away, astonished at the philosophy of this man, who, when an opportunity for freedom presented itself, preferred remaining a prisoner. When the door closed on him again, the Canadian burst into an Homeric laugh, and made his arrangements to pass the night in the least discomfort possible.
We will now go back a little way, and return to one of our characters, whose part has hitherto been secondary, but whom events suddenly place almost in the first rank. In one of the preceding chapters we recounted how Sotavento, concealed in a closet, overheard Count de Melgosa's conversation with Don Aníbal, and then with Father Pelagio Sandoval. When these three gentlemen had left the room, the worthy majordomo left his hiding place, revolving in his brain projects whose result we shall soon witness.
Sotavento enjoyed his master's entire confidence. His employment as majordomo frequently compelled his absence from the house at all hours of the day and night, hence, instead of hiding his departure, it was an easy matter for him to leave the hacienda openly, and he often remained absent for days, while nobody dreamed of asking him to account for his conduct.
At the haciendas, the majordomo is generally entrusted with the inspection of thecapatasesandcaporales, who govern the peons guarding the horses and cattle on the vast dependencies of the estate; we say vast, because they frequently extend for a radius of five and twenty or thirty leagues round the hacienda. This surveillance is the more necessary because the vaqueros, left almost entirely to themselves, do not scruple to kill the oxen for the sake of selling the hides, or allow travellers to carry off the best horses in the manada for a trifling sum; all which, as may be supposed, is highly prejudicial to the interests of the owner.
Sotavento, after leaving the closet, went to the corral, lassoed his horse, saddled and led it into the patio. At the moment when he was about leaving the hacienda, he found himself face to face with his master, who, after leading his guest to the apartment prepared for him, was returning to take part in the conference of the conspirators.
"Are you going out, Sotavento?"
"Yes, mi amo," the latter answered; "I was informed this morning that several tigers have been seen in the Bajio de los Pinos, and that they have already caused great ravages among the ganado. I am going myself to see that the tigreros are about, and why they have not yet freed the country from these ferocious brutes, which are the more formidable because shearing time and the matanza del ganado are close at hand."
"That is true. I cannot understand the negligence of our tigreros, and yet, I think, they are paid handsomely for each jaguar skin?"
"Fifteen piastres, Excellency."
"Pray, Sotavento, do not spare the rascals, but treat them as they deserve. It is really scandalous that, being paid so well, they display such negligence in the performance of their duty."
"Your Excellency can trust to me."
"I know, my friend," the hacendero answered kindly, "how thoroughly you are devoted to me. When do you intend to return, for we shall want you here?"
"I know that, Excellency, and hence I shall make haste. Still, as I must pass by the Cerro Azul, on my homeward route, to have a look at the large wood felling you have ordered, I cannot be back till tomorrow night, or the next morning at the latest."
"Well, my friend, act for the best. I trust entirely to you."
Sotavento bowed to his master, who entered the house, and immediately quitted the hacienda. The day was nearly spent, the declining sun only emitted oblique rays, which were almost devoid of heat. The majordomo followed for some time and at a moderate pace the route to the Bajio de los Pinos, but when the hacienda had disappeared behind a thick belt of trees, and the horseman no longer feared being watched by any curious person who had remained on the walls to notice his movements, he stopped, looked suspiciously around to make sure that he was really alone, bent over his horse's neck to catch the slightest sound that might strike his ear, and remained motionless for several minutes.
It is especially in the great American forests that our European proverb, with a slight modification, is perfectly applicable. We may say that the trees have ears, and the leaves eyes. The wood rangers are well aware of this; hence, unless they are at an entirely open spot, they generally speak low in monosyllables, or substitute signs for language. As for the mode of travelling in the forests, we have described it too often to require to dwell on it here.
This time Sotavento was alone. He saw nothing suspicious, and no extraordinary sound reached his ear. We purposely employ the expression "extraordinary sound," because, to a man accustomed to a forest life, all sounds have a meaning which he thoroughly knows, and about which he is never mistaken. Thus he can recognize the sighing of the wind among the leaves, the motion of the branch touched by a bird, the murmur of invisible water over pebbles, the rustling of a bush, or the undulation of the tall grass owing to the passage of wild beast; the buzzing of the mosquitoes over a pool, as well as many other sounds too numerous to mention here, such as the rolling of a stone detached from a mountain, or the footstep of a man on the dry leaves. This science, which it is difficult to learn thoroughly, requires sustained attention, lengthened experience, and, above all, well-tried patience, qualities only possessed by the redskins and white men who have given up civilized life to lead a desert existence.
The majordomo, certain that he had no espionage to dread, drew himself up, settled down on his saddle, and whispered to his horse the one word "Santiago," which, in the Spanish language, serves to excite a steed. He started at full speed, holding slightly to his right and insensibly approaching the river, whose yellow waters ran a short distance off between two low and sandy banks. On reaching the bank, the majordomo rode along it for two or three leagues, examining the ground with the most scrupulous attention, and apparently seeking some sign which he was unable to discover. At length he halted, and, after a momentary hesitation, entered the river and crossed it obliquely, having the water only up to his horse's chest in the deepest part. What the majordomo so long sought, and at length found, was a ford. Under other circumstances it is probable that Sotavento would not have hesitated to make his horse swim the river, but this time he had a long distance to go, and wished to save the animal's strength.
So soon as he reached the opposite bank, he started again at a gallop, continuing to follow the river, and rapidly proceeding toward a forest which stood out on the horizon. On crossing the river, Sotavento had entered the territory of the independent Indians, which fact, however, did not appear at all to trouble him; on the contrary, his demeanour became bolder, and his eye was lit up with a savage gleam. The sun disappeared in a gold and purple mist at the moment when Sotavento reached the forest, which he entered without checking his horse's pace.
At length, after a ride which went on thus at a tremendous pace for at least four hours, the majordomo reached the foot of a rock covered with lichen and green moss, which stood alone in the centre of a considerable clearing, probably made by the redskins during their hunting excursions, in order to procure game more rapidly. This burning must have been recent, for the earth retained a black hue, and traces of fire were still visible all around.
Sotavento halted. Nothing checked the view for three or four leagues round, but all was bare and gloomy. Still the majordomo had no intention of stopping at this place, for, after allowing his horse to breathe for ten minutes, he whistled to it and started again at a gallop. This time he did not ride for more than three hours, but his horse was worn out and stumbled at every step. It was covered with perspiration, a thick steam escaped from its nostrils which dilated convulsively, and it panted fearfully. The majordomo was as cool and calm as when he left the hacienda. This man was of iron; neither fatigue nor heat had any power over him. For about an hour he had been riding in the darkness along scarcely traced paths, on which he guided himself as easily as if walking about the streets of a town in broad daylight. He at last reached a spacious clearing, where he halted and dismounted. His horse was scarce able to stand on its trembling limbs. The majordomo gave it a glance of pity.
"Poor Negro!" he muttered, as he patted it gently, "You are almost foundered."
He took off the bridle and raised the stirrups, but, before he left the horse at liberty to seek its forage, he carefully rubbed it down, and then gave it a gentle blow, saying—
"Go and rest, my good beast."
The animal rubbed its intelligent head against its master's shoulder, gave a glad neigh, and bounded off. The majordomo remained pensive for a moment, then crossing the clearing, he entered the forest with a rapid step, but at the same time so light that the most practised ear could not have caught the sound he produced in treading the ground. After walking in this way for a few minutes, the majordomo entered a thicket, and raising two fingers of each hand to his mouth, he thrice imitated the cry of the owl with such perfection, that the birds perched above his head fled away in terror. Almost immediately a similar cry answered him a short distance off. Sotavento, without waiting any longer, quitted the thicket that sheltered him. A man rose before him. This man, as far as was possible to distinguish in the darkness, was an Indian. Sotavento was not at all surprised by this sudden apparition, which he probably expected. The Indian stood gloomy, and silent before him.
"Does not my brother bid me welcome?" Sotavento said to him in the Comanche dialect.
"The Stag knows," the Indian answered, "that his brothers are delighted to see him. Why, then say useless things?"
"Where is the tribe encamped at this moment?"
"Does not my brother see the yellow leaves falling? The Red Buffaloes have withdrawn to their winter village."
"I thought so; that is why I pushed on here, instead of halting at the burnt clearing."
"My brother acted wisely."
"Are not the chiefs upon an expedition?"
"No, all the warriors and braves are assembled at the village."
"Good."
"Will not my brother accompany me to the chiefs?"
"I will follow my brother."
"The Stag can come then."
Without waiting for the majordomo's answer, the Indian turned away, and began walking at such a pace that any man but the one who accompanied him would doubtless have had great difficulty in keeping up with him. Sotavento soon saw the village watch fires gleaming through the trees, and a few minutes later found himself with his guide among the irregular rows of huts. On seeing him, the women and children flocked up to him with cries of joy, and gave him unequivocal signs of sincere friendship. The majordomo briefly returned the congratulations offered him, and, followed by the crowd, proceeded to the council lodge, where the chiefs were still assembled, in spite of the lateness of the hour.
On setting foot in the village, Sotavento, so to speak, underwent a complete metamorphosis, all in him suddenly changed; and had it not been for his clothing, nobody would have taken him for a Mexican. He walked up to the entrance of the council lodge, where he stood respectfully waiting till he was addressed. The chiefs were smoking, gravely seated round a fire, whose flame played on their faces, and lit them up with fantastic reflections. The Indian who had acted as guide to the majordomo entered the lodge, and said a few words in a low voice.
"The Stag is the cherished son of the tribe," a grave voice replied; "the omnipotent Wacondah protects him; his presence among us is always hailed with joy. We heard the cries of the squaws and children who bade him welcome. Let him take the seat reserved for him at the council fire. What do my brothers, the sachems, say?"
The other chiefs bowed their heads in the affirmative, and Sotavento walked in, sat down, crossed his arms on his chest, and waited silently till his turn arrived to take part in the discussion.
"My brother White Crow will proceed," the chief who had already spoken said.
"Yes," White Crow said, doubtless concluding a speech which had been interrupted by Sotavento's arrival, "the information obtained by our hunters is positive; the Pawnee Loups have made a great expedition, and carried off many horses. We are in want of horses. The Pawnees are encamped two suns' distance at the most from our village; why should we not go and take from them the horses we require? I have spoken; let my brothers reflect."
Another chief said—
"Our young men require to be trained; few warriors of our tribe are reported good horse thieves. White Crow's medicine is good; his expeditions always succeed. Let him choose among our young men those whom he considers worthy to accompany him, and carry off the horses of the Pawnees, which we shall soon need for our great buffalo hunts. I have spoken."
"What is the opinion of the chiefs?" the sachem continued.
"Let Running Water give his first," White Crow said, "for he is the oldest sachem of the tribe."
Running Water rose.
"Be it so," he said, "I will speak. The news brought by White Crow is good; we really want horses for our great winter hunts. At any other moment I should have said, go and seize the Pawnee horses; ten minutes ago I should have expressed that opinion, but now I cannot possibly do so. My brothers do not reflect that my son, the Stag, has just arrived at the village; the distance is great from the stone lodge of the white men to the villages of the Red Buffaloes; my son would not undertake so long a journey without serious motives. Let us suspend our discussion for a few moments; defer the decision as to the advisability of the projected expedition; smoke the grand sacred calumet filled with moriche, and listen to the words of my son. His tongue is not forked, and, perhaps, he has important news to give us. I have spoken."
The chiefs bowed in silence, and White Crow, answering for all, said that the sachem's advice was good, and that, before coming to a decision about the expedition against the Pawnees, the council would listen to the news which the Stag doubtless had to communicate. The great sacred calumet was then, brought in with all the usual ceremonies on such occasions; it was filled with sacred tobacco, and lit by the help of a medicine rod. When it had gone the round, Running Water turned to Sotavento—
"The ears of the chiefs of the tribe are open," he said to him; "the Stag can speak."
The majordomo bowed respectfully to the sachem, and rose in the midst of a general silence.
The night was dark; there was not a star in the heavens; at lengthened intervals; however, the moon emerged from behind the clouds, and shed for a few minutes a trembling and uncertain light, which, when it disappeared, rendered the darkness more dense; the wind whistled mournfully through the denuded trees, which clashed together with dull moanings, mingling their sad harmony with the ill-omened roars of the wild beasts, which prowled starving about the forest. The entrance of the lodge in which the chiefs were assembled in council glistened in the darkness like the mouth of the infernal regions. With the exception of the sachems, everybody was asleep in the village; the very dogs had ceased their sharp barking, and were lying by the half extinguished fires, which, smouldering beneath the ashes, spread no light.
Sotavento, or the Stag, by whichever name the reader likes to call him, had risen, and all the chiefs fixed on him eyes displaying the liveliest curiosity; in fact, as Running Water had remarked, the majordomo must have most important news to communicate to the chiefs of his nation, to have thus suddenly undertaken so long and dangerous a ride.
"Sachems and braves of the invincible tribe of Red Buffalo," he said, "it is only when I am able to see you that the skin which covers my heart is suddenly removed, and the words which issues from my chest are really inspired by the Wacondah. To obey the orders of the sages of my nation, I consented with regret to leave the callis of my fathers, and pretend to adopt the customs of the cowardly palefaces whose ruin we have sworn. Very often, this burthen, too heavy for my weak shoulders, has nearly crushed me; very often I have felt my courage on the point of abandoning me in this incessant struggle and the false existence which has become mine. But you ordered, sachems, and I was obliged to bow my head and obey; I had ever present before my mind the numberless insults and horrible sufferings which our tyrants had made us endure. This thought constantly burning in my heart like a sharp arrow, by reviving my hatred, gave me the necessary strength to accomplish my heavy task. I believe, fathers and sachems of my nation, that I have never up to the present incurred reproaches from you on account of lukewarmness or negligence."
The chiefs bowed in evidence of their satisfaction, and Running Water replied—
"What does my son say? Why does he thus praise himself," he remarked in a sonorous voice, "for having done his duty? Does he not know that every man was placed in this world by the Wacondah to fulfil an often rough and painful task? Happy those whose task is the most arduous! The Wacondah loves them and regards them with a favourable eye, and for them he reserves after death the most productive territory in the happy hunting grounds. Of what does my son complain? In devoting him to live among the palefaces, I made him the saviour of my people and the avenger of their insults. All the braves, all the warriors of my tribe envy his lot; he alone complains like a cowardly Yori. He finds the task which has been allotted to him too heavy; be it so, let him retire, let him give up the post of honour which the chiefs consented to confide to him, for the sake of us; let him return to the desert, but he must shun the calli of his fathers; he will not find brothers, relatives, or friends in his country; all will reject him and compel him to take refuge among the wild beasts that are less cruel and cowardly than he."
The majordomo listened to this severe reprimand with drooping head, but without daring to interrupt it. When the old chief ceased, he drew himself up—
"My father," he replied in a humble voice, with an accent of the greatest deference, "your words are severe; they fall upon my heart like red-hot coals. I do not deserve these reproaches; the Wacondah is my witness that my thoughts have ever been with my tribe, and that avenging the insults offered you has been the sole object for which I have striven. My abode among the palefaces has, perhaps, unconsciously, given my words a strange turn that has led you into error. Be not wroth with me, father, for I am worthy of your esteem, if not of your praise. If I complained it was because my heart suffers at being absent from you, and that I long for the moment when I shall be allowed to throw far from me this borrowed garb, to resume the free, glorious, independent life of the Comanches, that noble nation, without an equal on the prairie, beloved by the Wacondah, respected by all the redskins, and feared by the ferocious palefaces, who have never succeeded in bowing them beneath the shameful yoke which they have imposed on all the other Indians."
The old chief shook his head several times, while a smile of undefinable meaning played round the corners of his thin lips.
"My son has learned much among the palefaces," he said; "his mind has opened to thoughts strange to his countrymen; his horizon has expanded and his tongue is gilded. May the Wacondah grant that it has not become forked, and that his heart has remained firm. I believe his words, and am glad to think that he does not deceive the fathers of his tribe. He can forget any severity in my words; the friendship I bear him, and the fear I have of seeing him break his word, could alone have made me utter them. Now, let my son explain to us, without further delay, the motive for his coming among us. The owl has already hooted twice, and we must be in a position before sunrise to take those measures which the news he brings us will doubtless necessitate."
The majordomo bowed respectfully, and at once continued—
"Thanks, father, for the justice you do me; your hopes shall not be deceived. Now, without further preface, this is my news, which I think will be agreeable to you, as it will give you the means to seize one of your most obstinate foes. The man whom the Yoris call Count de Melgosa is at this moment at the hacienda with an escort composed of but sixtamarindos. Tomorrow at sunrise he will set out to return to his house; nothing will be easier than for you to seize him as he passes through the canyon, if your arrangements are properly made."