"I have heard the strain of the walkon, the beloved bird of the Wacondah, echo in my ears," he said: "its harmonious voice penetrated to my heart and made it thrill with joy. My sons are good, and I love them. The Jester and ten warriors to be chosen by himself, will accompany me, and the others will ride to the great villages of my nation to announce to the sachems the return of Eagle-head among his brothers. I have spoken."
The Jester then asked for the great calumet, which was immediately brought him by the pipe bearer, and the chiefs smoked in turn, without uttering a word. When the last puff of smoke had dissolved, the hachesto, to whom the Jester had said a few words in a low voice, proclaimed the names of the ten warriors selected to accompany the sachem. The chiefs rose, bowed to Eagle-head, and silently mounting their horses, started at a gallop.
For a considerable period the Jester and Eagle-head conversed in a low voice; at the end of the palaver, the Jester and his warriors went off in their turn, Eagle-head, Belhumeur and Don Louis remaining alone. The Canadian watched the Indians depart, and when they had disappeared he turned to the chief.
"Hum!" he said, "Will not the hour soon arrive to speak frankly and terminate our business? Since our departure from home we have troubled ourselves a great deal about others, and forgotten our own affairs; is it not time to think of them?"
"Eagle-head does not forget: he is preparing to satisfy his pale brothers."
Belhumeur burst out laughing.
"Excuse me, chief; for my part, my business is very simple. You asked me to accompany you and here I am. May I be a dog of an Apache if I know anything more! Louis, it is different, is looking for a well-beloved friend: remember that we have promised to help him to find him."
"Eagle-head," the chief replied, "has shared his heart between his two white brothers: each has half. The road we have to go is long, and must last several moons. We shall cross the great desert. The Jester and his warriors have gone to kill buffaloes for the journey. I will lead my white brothers to a spot which I discovered a few moons ago, and which is only known to myself. The Wacondah, when he created the red man, gave him strength, courage, and immense hunting grounds, saying to him: 'Be free and happy.' He gave the palefaces wisdom and science, by teaching them to know the value of sparkling stones and yellow pebbles. The redskins and the palefaces each follow the path the Great Spirit has traced for them. I am leading my brothers to a placer."
"To a placer!" the two men exclaimed in amazement.
"Yes. What would an Indian sachem do with these enormous treasures, which he knows not how to use? Gold is everything with the palefaces. Let my brothers be happy; Eagle-head will give them more than they can ever take."
"An instant, chief. What the deuce would you have me do with your gold? I am a hunter, whom his horse and rifle suffice. At the period that I crossed the prairie in the company of Loyal-heart, we frequently found rich nuggets beneath our feet, and ever turned from them with contempt."
"What need have we of gold?" Don Louis supported his friend. "Let us forget this placer, however rich it may be. Let us not reveal its existence to anyone, for crimes enough are committed daily for gold. Give up this scheme, chief. We thank you for your generous offer, but it is impossible for us to accept it."
"Well spoken," Belhumeur exclaimed joyously. "Deuce take the gold, which we can make no use of, and let us live like the free hunters we are! By heavens, chief, I assure you, had you told me at the time the object for which you wished me to follow you, I should have let you start alone."
Eagle-head smiled.
"I expected the answer my brothers have given me," he said. "I am happy to see that I have not been mistaken. Yes, gold is useless, to them—they are right; but that is not a motive for despising it. Like all things placed on the earth by the Great Spirit, gold is useful. My brothers will accompany me to the placer, not, as they suppose, to collect nuggets, but merely to know where they are, and go to fetch them when wanted. Misfortune ever arrives unexpectedly: the most favoured by the Great Spirit today are often those whom tomorrow he will smite most severely. Well, if the gold of this placer is as nothing for the happiness of my brothers, who insures them that it may not serve some day to save one of their friends from despair?"
"That is true," said Don Louis, touched by the justice of this reasoning. "What you say is wise, and deserves consideration. We can refuse to enrich ourselves; but we have no right to despise riches, which may possibly, at some future day, serve others."
"If that is really your opinion I adopt it; besides, as we are on the road, it is as well to go to the end. Still, the man who had told me that I should one day turngambusinowould have astonished me. In the meanwhile I will go and try to kill a deer."
On this Belhumeur rose, took his gun, and went off whistling. The Jester was two days absent. About the middle of the third day he reappeared. Six horses lassoed in the prairie were loaded with provisions; six others carried skins filled with water. Eagle-head was satisfied with the way in which the chief had performed his mission: but as the journey they had to make was a long one (for they had to cross the Del Norte desert at its longest part,) he ordered that each horseman should carry on his saddle, with his alforjas, two little water skins.
All these measures having been carefully taken, the horses and their riders rested. Fresh and of good cheer, the next morning, at daybreak, the little troop started in the direction of the desert. We will say nothing of the journey, save that it was successful and accomplished under the most favourable auspices: no incident occurred to mar its monotonous tranquillity. The Comanches and their friends crossed the desert like a tornado, with that headlong speed of which they alone possess the secret, and which renders them so dangerous when they invade the Mexican frontiers.
On arriving in the prairies of the Sierra de los Comanches, Eagle-head ordered the Jester and his warriors to await him in a camp which he formed on the skirt of a virgin forest, in an immense clearing on the banks of an unknown stream, which, after a course of several leagues, falls into the Rio del Norte, and then departed with his comrades. The sachem foresaw everything. Although he placed entire confidence in the Jester, he did not wish, through prudential motives, to let him know the site of the placer. At a later date he had cause to congratulate himself on this step.
The hunters pushed on straight for the mountains, which rose before them like apparently insurmountable granitic walls; but the nearer they approached the more the mountains sloped down. They soon entered a narrow gorge, at the entrance of which they were forced to leave their horses. It was probably owing to this apparently futile circumstance that this placer had not yet been discovered by the Indians, for the redskins never, under any circumstances, dismount. It may justly be said of them, as of the Guachos of the Pampas, in the Banda Oriental and Patagonia, that they live on horseback.
By a singular accident during one of his hunts, a deer which Eagle-head had wounded entered this gorge to die. The chief, who had been following the animal for several hours, did not hesitate to go in quest of it. After traversing the whole length of the gorge he reached a valley, a kind of funnel formed between two abrupt mountains, which, except on this side, rendered access not only difficult, but impossible. There he found the deer expiring on a sand sprinkled with gold dust, and sown with nuggets winch sparkled like diamonds in the sunshine.
On entering the valley the hunters could not repress a cry of admiration and a shudder of delight. However strong a man may be morally, gold possesses an irresistible attraction, and exerts a powerful fascination over him. Belhumeur was the first to regain his calmness.
"Oh, oh!" he said, wiping the perspiration which poured down his face, "there are fortunes enough hidden in this nook of earth. God grant that they may remain so a long time, for the happiness of mankind!"
"What shall we do?" asked Louis, his chest heaving and his eyes sparkling.
Eagle-head alone regarded these incalculable riches with an indifferent eye.
"Hum!" the Canadian continued, "This is evidently our property, as the chief surrenders it to us."
The sachem made a sign of affirmation.
"Hear what I propose," he continued. "We do not need this gold, which at this moment would be more injurious to us than useful. Still, as no one can foresee the future, we must assure ourselves of the ownership. Let us cover this sand with leaves and branches, so that if accident lead a hunter to the top of one of those mountains, he may not see the gold glistening; then we will pile up stones, and close the mouth of the valley; for what has happened to Eagle-head must not happen to another. What is your opinion?"
"To work!" Don Louis exclaimed. "I am anxious not to have my eyes dazzled longer by this diabolical metal, which makes me giddy."
"To work, then!" Belhumeur replied.
The three men cut down branches from the trees, and formed with them a thick carpet, under which the auriferous sand and nuggets entirely disappeared.
"Will you not take a specimen of the nuggets?" Belhumeur said to the count. "Perhaps it may be useful to take a few."
"My faith, no!" the latter replied, shrugging his shoulders; "I do not care for it. Take some if you will: for my part, I will not soil my fingers with them."
The Canadian began laughing, picked up two or three nuggets as huge as walnuts, and placed them in his bullet pouch.
"Sapristi!" he said, "if I kill sundry Apaches with these they will have no right to complain, I hope."
They quitted the valley, the entrance to which they stopped up with masses of rock. They then regained their horses, and returned to the camp, after cutting notches in the trees, so as to be able to recognise the spot, if, at a later date, circumstances led them to the placer, which, we are bound to say in their favour, not one of them desired.
The Jester was awaiting his friends with the intensest impatience. The prairie was not quiet. In the morning the runners had perceived a small band of palefaces crossing the Del Norte, and proceeding toward a hill, on the top of which they had encamped. At this moment a large Apache war-party had crossed the river at the same spot, apparently following a trail.
"Oh, oh!" Belhumeur said, "It is plain that those dogs are pursuing white people."
"Shall we let them be massacred beneath our eyes?" Louis exclaimed indignantly.
"My faith, no! If it depend on us," the hunter said, "perhaps this good action will obtain our pardon for the feeling of covetousness to which we for a moment yielded. Speak, Eagle-head! What will you do?"
"Save the palefaces," the chief replied.
The orders were immediately given by the sachem, and executed with that intelligence and promptitude characteristic of picked warriors on the war trail. The horses were left under the guard of a Comanche, and the detachment, divided into two parties, advanced cautiously into the prairie. With the exception of Eagle-head, the Jester, Louis, and Belhumeur, who had rifles, all the others were armed with lances and bows.
"Diamond cut diamond," the Canadian said in a low voice. "We are going to surprise those who are preparing to surprise others."
At this moment two shots were heard, followed by others, and then the war cry of the Apaches echoed far and wide.
"Oh, oh!" Belhumeur said, rushing forward, "They do not fancy we are so near."
All the others followed him at full speed. In the meanwhile the combat had assumed horrible proportions in the cavern. Don Sylva and the peons resisted courageously; but what could they do against the swarm of enemies that assailed them on every side?
The Tigrero and the Black Bear, interlaced like two serpents, were seeking to stab each other. Don Martial, when he perceived the Indian, leaped back so precipitately that he cleared the passage and reached the hall, in the centre of which was the abyss to which we before alluded. It was on the verge of this gulf that the two men, with flashing eyes, heaving chests, and lips closed by fury, redoubled their efforts.
Suddenly several shots were heard, and the war cry of the Comanches burst forth like thunder. The Black Bear loosed his hold of Don Martial, leaped on his feet, and rushed on Doña Anita; but the girl, though suffering from an indescribable terror, repulsed the savage by a supernatural effort. The latter, already wounded by the Tigrero's pistols, tottered backwards to the edge of the abyss, where he lost his balance. He felt that all was over. By an instinctive effort he stretched out his arms, seized Don Martial (who, half stunned by the contest he had been engaged in, was trying to rise), made him totter in his turn, and the two fell to the bottom of the abyss, uttering a horrible cry.
Doña Anita rushed forward: she was lost—when suddenly she felt herself seized by a vigorous hand, and rapidly dragged backwards. She had fainted.
The Comanches had arrived too late. Of the seven persons composing the little band, five had been killed; a peon seriously wounded, and Doña Anita alone survived. The young girl had been saved by Belhumeur. When she opened her eyes again she smiled gently, and in a childlike voice, melodious as a bird's carol, began singing a Mexican seguedilla. The hunters recoiled with a cry of horror. Doña Anita was mad!
The count de Lhorailles entered the great Del Norte desert under the guidance of Cucharés. During the first day all went on famously; the weather was magnificent—the provisions more than plentiful. With their innate carelessness the Frenchmen forgot their past fears, and laughed at the alarm which the Mexican peons did not cease manifesting; for, better informed, they did not conceal the terror which the prolonged stay of the company in this terrible region caused them.
The days were spent in the desert in wandering purposelessly in search of the Apaches, who had at length become invisible. At times they perceived an Indian horseman in the distance, apparently mocking them, who presently came up close to their lines. Boot and saddle was sounded; everybody mounted, and pursued this phantom horseman, who, after allowing them to follow him for a long time, suddenly disappeared like a vision.
This mode of life, however, through its very monotony, began to grow insipid and insupportable. To see nothing but grey sand, ever sand—not a bird or a wild beast—tawny, weather-worn rocks—a few lofty ahuehuelts—a species of cedar, with long bare branches, covered with a greyish moss, hanging in heavy festoons—had nothing very amusing about it. The troop began to grow dispirited. The reflection of the sun on the sand caused ophthalmia; the water, decomposed by the heat, was no longer drinkable; the provisions were spoiling; and scurvy had commenced its ravages among the soldiers. This state of things was growing intolerable: measures must be taken to get out of it as rapidly as possible.
The count formed his officers into a council; and it was composed of Lieutenants Martin Leroux and Diégo Léon, Sergeant Boileau, Blas Vasquez, and Cucharés. These five persons, presided over by the count, took their seats on bales, while a short distance off, the soldiers, reclining on the ground, tried to shelter themselves beneath the shadow of their picketed horses.
It was urgent to assemble the council, for the company was rapidly demoralising; there was revolt in the air, and complaints had already been openly uttered. The execution at the Casa Grande was completely forgotten; and, if a remedy were not soon found, no one knew what terrible consequences this general dissatisfaction might not entail.
"Gentlemen," the Count de Lhorailles said, "I have assembled you in order to consult with you on the means to put a stop to the despondency which has fallen on our company during the last few days. The circumstances are so serious that I shall feel obliged by your giving me your frank opinion. The general welfare is at stake, and in such a state of things each has a right to express his opinion without fear of wounding the self-love of anyone. Speak; I am listening to you. You first, Sergeant Boileau: as the lowest in rank, you must take the word first."
The sergeant was an old African soldier, knowing his duties perfectly—a thorough trooper in the fullest sense of the word; but we must confess that he was nothing of an orator. At this direct challenge from his chief he smiled, blushed like a girl, let his head droop, opened an enormous mouth, and stopped short. The count, perceiving his embarrassment, kindly urged him to speak. At length, after many an effort, the sergeant managed to begin in a hoarse and perfectly indistinct voice.
"Hang it, captain!" he said, "I can understand that the situation is not at all pleasant; but what is to be done? A man is a trooper, or he is not. Hence my opinion is that you ought to act as you think proper; and we are here to obey you in every respect, as is our peremptory duty, without any subsequent or offensive after-thought."
The officers could not refrain from laughing at the worthy sergeant's profession of faith, as he stopped all ashamed.
"It is your turn, capataz," the captain said. "Give us your opinion."
Blas Vasquez fixed his burning eyes on the count.
"Do you really ask it frankly?" he said.
"Certainly I do."
"Then listen," he said in a firm voice, and with an accent bearing conviction. "My opinion is that we are betrayed; that it is impossible for us to leave this desert, where we shall all perish in pursuing invisible enemies, who have caused us to fall into a trap which will hold us all."
These words produced a great impression on the hearers, who understood their perfect truth. The captain shook his head thoughtfully.
"Don Blas," he said, "you bring, then, a heavy accusation against someone. Have you conscientiously weighed the purport of your words?"
"Yes," he replied; "but—"
"Remember that we can admit no vague suppositions. Things have reached such a pitch that, if you wish us to give you the credence you doubtlessly deserve, you must bring your charges precisely, and not shrink from pronouncing any name if it be necessary."
"I shall shrink from nothing, señor conde. I know all the responsibility I take on myself. No consideration, however powerful it may be, will make me conceal what I regard as a sacred duty."
"Speak, then, in Heaven's name; and God grant that your words may not compel me to inflict an exemplary chastisement on one of our comrades."
The capataz collected himself for a moment. All anxiously awaited his explanation: Cucharés especially was suffering from an emotion which he found great difficulty in concealing. Blas Vasquez at length spoke again, while keeping his eye so fixed on the count that the latter began to understand that he and his men were the victims of some odious treachery.
"Señor conde," Blas said, "we Mexicans have a law from which we never depart—a law which, indeed, is inscribed in the hearts of all honest men. It is this: in the same way that the pilot is responsible for the ship intrusted to him to take into port, the pioneer responds with his person for the safety of the people he undertakes to guide in the desert. In this case no discussion is possible: either the guide is ignorant, or he is not. If he is ignorant, why, against the opinion of everybody, has he forced us to enter the desert, while taking on himself the entire responsibility of our journey? Why, if he be not ignorant, did he not guide us straight across the desert as he agreed to do, instead of leading us at venture in pursuit of an enemy who, he knows as well as I do, is never stationary in the desert, but traverses it at his horse's utmost speed when forced to enter it? Hence on the guide alone must weigh the blame of all that has happened, as he was master of events, and arranged them as he thought proper."
Cucharés, more and more perturbed, knew not what countenance to keep; his emotion was visible to all.
"What reply have you to make?" the captain asked him.
Under circumstances like the present, the man attacked has only two means of defence—to feign indignation or contempt. Cucharés chose the latter. Summoning up all his boldness and impudence, he raised his voice, shrugged his shoulders disdainfully, and answered in an ironical tone,—
"I will not do Don Blas the honour of discussing his remarks: there are certain accusations which an honest man scorns to repel. It was my duty to act in conformity with the orders of the captain, who alone commands here. Since we have been in the desert we have lost twenty men, killed by the Indians or by disease. Can I be logically rendered responsible for this misfortune? Do I not run the same risks as all of you of perishing in the desert? Is it in my power to escape the fate that threatens you? If the captain had merely ordered me to cross the desert, we should have done so long ago: he told me that he wished to catch the Apaches up, and I was compelled to obey him."
These reasons, specious as they were, were still accepted as good by the officers. Cucharés breathed again, but he had not yet finished with the capataz.
"Good!" the latter said. "Strictly speaking, you might be right in your remarks, and I would put faith in your statements, had I not other and graver charges to bring against you."
The lepero shrugged his shoulders once more.
"I know, and can supply proof, that, by your remarks and insinuations, you sow discord and rebellion among the peons and troopers. This morning, before theréveillé, believing that no one saw you, you rose, and with your dagger pierced ten of the fifteen water skins still left us. The noise I made in running toward you alone prevented the entire consummation of your crime. At the moment when the captain gave us orders to assemble, I was about to warn him of what yon had done. What have you to answer to this? Defend yourself, if it be possible."
All eyes were fixed on the lepero. He was livid. His eyes, suffused with blood, were haggard. Before it was possible to guess his intention, he drew a pistol and fired at the capataz, who fell without uttering a cry; then with a tiger-bound he leaped on his horse, and started at full speed. There was an indescribable tumult. All rushed in pursuit of the lepero.
"Down with the murderer!" the captain shouted, urging his men by voice and gestures to seize the villain.
The Frenchmen, rendered furious by this pursuit, began firing on Cucharés as on a wild beast. For a long time he was seen galloping his horse in every direction, and seeking in vain to quit the circle in which the troopers had inclosed him. At length he tottered in his saddle, tried to hold on by his horse's mane, and rolled in the sand, uttering a parting yell of fury. He was dead!
This event caused extreme excitement among the soldiers: from this moment they felt that they were betrayed, and began to see their position as it really was—that is to say, desperate. In vain did the captain try to restore them a little courage; they would listen to nothing, but yielded to that despair which disorganises and paralyses everything. The count gave the order for departure, and they set out.
But whither should they go? In what direction turn? No trace was visible. Still they marched on, rather to change their place than in the hope of emerging from the sepulchre of sand in which they believed themselves eternally buried. Eight days passed away—eight centuries—-during which the adventurers endured the most frightful tortures of thirst and hunger. The troop no longer existed; there were neither chiefs nor soldiers; it was a legion of hideous phantoms, a flock of wild beasts ready to devour each other on the first opportunity.
They had been reduced to splitting the ears of the horses and mules in order to drink the blood.
Wandering now on this side, now on that, deceived by the mirage, dazzled by the burning sunbeams, they were a prey to a hideous despair. Some laughed with a silly air; and these were the happiest, for they no longer felt their sufferings: they were mad. Others brandished their weapons furiously, raising their fists, with menaces and curses to heaven, which, like an immense plate of red-hot iron, seemed the implacable dome of their sandy tomb. Some, rendered raging by suffering, blew out their brains, while mocking their comrades who were too weak-minded to follow their example.
The French are, perhaps, the bravest nation in existence; but, on the other hand, the easiest to demoralise. If their impulse is irresistible in the onward march; it is the same when they give way. Nothing will stop them—neither reasoning nor coercive measures. Extreme in everything, the Frenchman is more than a man, or less than a child.
The Count de Lhorailles, gloomy and heart-broken, surveyed the ruin of all his hopes. Ever the first to march the last to rest, not eating a mouthful till he was certain that all his comrades had their share, he watched with unexampled tenderness and care over these poor soldiers, who, strangely enough, in the misery in which they were plunged, never dreamed of addressing a reproach to him.
Of Blas Vasquez' peons the majority were dead. The rest had sought safety in flight; that is, they had gone a little further on to seek a hidden tomb. All those who remained faithful to the captain were Europeans, principally Frenchmen, brave Dauph'yeers, utterly ignorant of the way to combat and conquer the implacable enemy against whom they struggled—the desert! Of the two hundred and forty-five men of which the squadron was composed on its entering the Del Norte, one hundred and thirty-three still survived, if we allow that these haggard, fleshless spectres were men.
The most atrocious pain which a man can suffer in the desert is the frightful malady calledcalenturaby the Mexicans. The calentura! That temporary madness, which makes you see, during its intermittent attacks, the most dainty and delicious dishes, the most limpid water, the most exquisite wines; which satiates and enervates you; and, when it leaves you, renders you more desponding, more broken, than before, for you retain the remembrance of all you possessed during your dream.
One day, at length, the wretched men, crushed by misery and torture of every description, refused to go further, and resolved to die where accident had led them. They lay down in the torrid sand, beneath the shadow of a few ahuehuelts, with the firm will of remaining motionless until death, which they had summoned so loudly, came at length to deliver them from their woes. The sun set in a mist of purple and gold, to the sound of the curses and imprecations of these wretched men who, expecting nothing more, hoping nothing more, had only retained the cruel instincts of the wild beast.
Still the night succeeded to day—gradually calmness took the place of disorder. Sleep, that great consoler, weighed down the heavy eyelids of the men, who, if they did not sleep, fell into state of somnolency, which brought a truce to their fearful tortures, if only for a few moments. Suddenly, in the middle of the night, a formidable sound aroused them—a fiery whirlwind passed over them—the thunder burst forth in terrific peals. The sky was black as ink—not a star, not a moonbeam—nothing but dense gloom, which hid the nearest objects from sight.
The poor fellows rose in great terror; they dragged themselves on as well as they could one after the other, crouching together like a flock of sheep surprised by a storm, wishing, with that inborn egotism of man, to die together.
"A temporal, a temporal!" all shouted with an expression of voice impossible to render.
It was in reality the temporal, that fearful scourge, which was unloosing all its fury, and passing over the desert to subvert its surface. The wind howled with extraordinary force, raising clouds of dust, which whirled round with extreme velocity, and formed enormous spouts, that, ran along and suddenly burst with a frightful crash. Men and animals caught in the tornado were whisked away into a space like straws.
"Down on the ground!" the count shouted in a tremendous voice; "Down on the ground. 'Tis the African simoom! Down, all of you who care for life!"
Strange to say, all these men, weighed down with atrocious sufferings, obeyed their chiefs orders like children, so great is the terror death inspires in the darkness. They buried their faces in the sand, in order to avoid the burning blast of air that passed over them. The animals crouched on the ground, with outstretched necks, instinctively followed their example. At intervals, when the wind granted a moment's respite to these unhappy men, whom it took a delight in torturing, cries and groans of agony could be heard, mingled with blasphemies and ardent prayers, that rose from the crowd stretched trembling on the earth. The hurricane raged through the entire night with ever increasing fury; toward morning it gradually grew calmer; by sunrise it had exhausted all its strength, and rushed toward other regions.
The aspect of the desert was completely changed. Where valleys had been on the previous night were now mountains; the sparse trees, twisted, uprooted, or burned by the hurricane, displayed their blackened and denuded skeletons; no trace of a footpath, no sign of man; all was flat, smooth, and even as a mirror. The French had been reduced to sixty men; the others had been carried off or swallowed up, and there was no hope of discovering the slightest sign of them: the sand was stretched over them like an immense greyish shroud.
The first feeling the survivors experienced was terror; the second, despair; and then the groans and complaints broke out again with renewed strength. The count, gloomy and sad, regarded these poor people with an expression of the tenderest pity. Suddenly he burst out into a feverish laugh, and going up to his horse, which had hitherto, by a species or miracle, escaped disaster, he saddled it, while gently patting it and humming a wild tune between his teeth.
His companions watched him with a feeling of vague terror, for which they could not account. Although they were so miserable, their captain still represented superior intellect and a firm will, those two forces which have so much power over coarse natures, even when circumstances have forced them to deny them. In their wretched condition they collected round their chief, like children seek shelter on their mother's breast. He had ever consoled them, giving them an example of courage and abnegation: thus, when they saw him acting as he was doing, they had a foreboding of evil.
When his horse was saddled the count leaped lightly on its back, and for a few minutes he made the animal curvet, though it had the greatest difficulty in keeping on its feet.
"Hold, my fine fellows!" he suddenly shouted. "Come up here! You had better listen to some good advice—a parting hint I wish to give you before I go."
The soldiers dragged themselves up as well as they could, and surrounded him.
The count turned a glance of satisfaction around.
"Existence is a miserable farce, is it not?" he said, bursting into a laugh; "and it is often a heavy chain to drag about. How many times, since we have been wandering about this desert, have I had the thought which I now utter openly! Well, I confess to you, as long as I had a hope of saving you, I struggled courageously: that hope I no longer possess. As we must die of want within a few days—a few hours, perhaps—I prefer to finish it at once. Believe me, you had better follow my example. It is soon done, as you shall see."
While uttering the last words he drew a pistol from his waist belt. At this moment cries were heard.
"What is it? What is the matter?"
"Look, captain! People are coming at last to our help: we are saved!" Sergeant Boileau exclaimed, rising like a spectre by his side, and seizing his arm.
The count freed himself with a smile.
"You are mad, my poor comrade," he said, looking in the direction indicated, where a cloud of dust really rose, and was rapidly approaching; "no one can come to our aid. We have not even," he added with bitter irony, "the resource of the shipwrecked crew of theMéduse!We are condemned to die in this infernal desert. Farewell, all—farewell!"
He raised the pistol.
"Captain," the sergeant cried reproachfully, "take care! You have no right to kill yourself. You are our chief, and must be the last to die: if not, you are a coward!"
The count bounded as though a serpent had stung him, and made a gesture as if to rush on the sergeant. The expression of his face was so savage, his movement so terrible, that the sergeant was terrified, and recoiled. The captain profited by this second respite, put the muzzle of the pistol to his temple, and pulled the trigger. He fell to the ground, with his skull fractured.
The adventurers had not yet recovered from the stupor this frightful event had thrown them into, when the cloud of dust they had noticed burst violently asunder, and they perceived a troop of mounted Indians, in the midst of whom were a woman and two or three white men, galloping toward them at full speed. Convinced that the Apaches had come up to deal them the final blow, like vultures collecting round a fallen buffalo, they did not even attempt an impossible resistance.
"Oh!" one of the hunters shouted, as he leaped from his horse and rushed toward them, "the poor fellows!"
The newcomers were Belhumeur, Louis and their friends the Comanches. In a few words they were apprised of all that had happened, and the tortures the French had endured.
"Good heavens!" Belhumeur shouted, "if provisions failed, you had water in abundance; then why do you complain of thirst?"
Without saying a word, Eagle-head and the Jester dug up the ground with their knives at the foot of an ahuehuelt. Within ten minutes an abundant stream of limpid water poured along the sand. The Frenchmen rushed in disorder toward it.
"Poor fellows!" Don Louis murmured, "Shall we not take them from this spot?"
"Do you think I would let them perish, now I have restored them to hope? Poor girl!" casting a melancholy glance at Doña Anita, who was laughing and cracking her fingers like castanets, "why is it not equally easy to restore her to reason?"
Don Louis sighed, but made no reply.
The French then learned a thing, which would have saved them all probably, had they known it sooner—that the ahuehuelt, which, in the Comanche Indian dialect, signifies theLord of the Waters, is a tree which grows in arid spots, and its presence ever indicates either a spring flush with the soil or a hidden source; that for this reason the redskins hold it in veneration; and, as it is principally found in the deserts, they designate it also by the name of theGreat Medicine of Travellers.
Two days later the adventurers, guided by the hunters and Comanches, quitted the desert. They speedily reached the Casa Grande of Moctecuhzoma, where their saviours, after giving them the provisions they stood in such pressing need of, finally left them, hardly knowing how to escape from their hearty thanks and blessings.
(Those of our readers who have felt an interest in Don Louis will find his history continued in another volume, called "THE GOLD-SEEKERS.")