The guide made no reply; he bowed with an equivocal smile, and retired.
"It is surprising," the general murmured to himself, "that although that man's conduct may be in appearance loyal, and however impossible it may be to approach him with the least thing,—in spite of all that, I cannot divest myself of the presentiment that he is deceiving us, and that he is contriving some diabolical project against us."
The general was an old soldier of considerable experience, who would never leave anything to chance, thatdeus ex machinâ, which in a second destroys the best contrived plans.
Notwithstanding the fatigue of his people, he would not lose a moment; aided by the captain, he had an enormous number of trees cut down, to form a solid intrenchment, protected bychevaux de frise. Behind this intrenchment the lancers dug a wide ditch, of which they threw out the earth on the side of the camp; and then, behind this second intrenchment, the baggage was piled up, to make a third and last enclosure.
The tent was pitched in the centre of the camp, the sentinels were posted, and everyone else went to seek that repose of which they stood so much in need.
The general, who intended sojourning on this spot for some time, wished, as far as it could be possible, to assure the safety of his companions, and, thanks to his minute precautions, he believed he had succeeded.
For two days the travellers had been marching along execrable roads, almost without sleep, only stopping to snatch a morsel of food; as we have said, they were quite worn out with fatigue. Notwithstanding, then, their desire to keep awake, the sentinels could not resist the sleep which overpowered them and they were not long in sinking into as complete a forgetfulness as their companions.
Towards midnight, at the moment when everyone in the camp was plunged in sleep, a man rose softly, and creeping along in the shade, with the quickness of a reptile, but with extreme precaution, he glided out of the barricades and intrenchments.
He then went down upon the ground, and by degrees, in a manner almost insensibly, directed his course, upon his hands and knees, through the high grass towards a forest which covered the first ascent of the hill, and extended some way into the prairie. When he had gone a certain distance, and was safe from discovery, he rose up.
A moonbeam, passing between two clouds, threw a light upon his countenance.
That man was the Babbler.
He looked round anxiously, listened attentively, and then with incredible perfection imitated the cry of the prairie dog.
Almost instantly the same cry was repeated, and a man rose up, within at most ten paces of the Babbler.
This man was the guide who, three days before, had escaped from the camp on the first appearance of the conflagration.
Indians and wood rangers have two languages, of which they make use by turns, according to circumstances—spoken language, and the language of gestures.
Like the spoken language, the language of signs has, in America, infinite fluctuations; everyone, so to say, invents his own. It is a compound of strange and mysterious gestures, a kind of masonic telegraph, the signs of which, varying at will, are only comprehensible to a small number of adepts.
The Babbler and his companion were conversing in signs.
This singular conversation lasted nearly an hour; it appeared to interest the speakers warmly; so warmly, indeed, that they did not remark, in spite of all the precautions they had taken not to be surprised, two fiery eyes that, from the middle of a tuft of underwood, were fixed upon them with strange intenseness.
At length the Babbler, risking the utterance of a few words, said, "I await your good pleasure."
"And you shall not wait it long," the other replied.
"I depend upon you, Kennedy; for my part, I have fulfilled my promise."
"That's well! that's well! We don't require many words to come to an understanding," said Kennedy, shrugging his shoulders; "only you need not have conducted them to so strong a position—it will not be very easy to surprise them."
"That's your concern," said the Babbler, with an evil smile.
His companion looked at him for a moment with great attention.
"Hum," said he; "beware,compadre, it is almost always awkward to play a double game with men like us."
"I am playing no double game; but I think you and I have known each other a pretty considerable time, Kennedy, have we not?"
"What follows?"
"What follows? Well! I am not disposed that a thing should happen to me again that has happened before, that's all."
"Do you draw back, or are you thinking about betraying us?"
"I do not draw back, and I have not the least intention of betraying you, only——"
"Only?" the other repeated.
"This time I will not give up to you what I have promised till my conditions have been agreed to pretty plainly; if not, no——"
"Well, at least that's frank."
"People should speak plainly in business affairs," the Babbler observed, shaking his head.
"That's true! Well, come, repeat the conditions; I will see if we can accept them."
"What's the good of that? You are not the principal chief, are you?"
"No:—but—yet——"
"You could pledge yourself to nothing—so it's of no use. If Waktehno—he who kills—were here now, it would be quite another thing. He and I should soon understand one another."
"Speak then, he is listening to you," said a strong, sonorous voice.
There was a movement in the bushes, and the personage who, up to that moment, had remained an invisible hearer of the conversation of the two men, judged, without doubt, that the time to take a part in it was arrived, for, with a bound, he sprang out of the bushes that had concealed him, and placed himself between the speakers.
"Oh! oh! you were listening to us, Captain Waktehno, were you?" said the Babbler without being the least discomposed.
"Is that unpleasant to you?" the newcomer asked, with an ironical smile.
"Oh! not the least in the world."
"Continue, then, my worthy friend—I am all ears."
"Well," said the guide, "it will, perhaps, be better so."
"Go on, then—speak; I attend to you."
The personage to whom the Babbler gave the terrible Indian name of Waktehno was a man of pure white race, thirty years of age, of lofty stature, and well proportioned, handsome in appearance, and wearing with a certain dashing carelessness the picturesque costume of the wood rangers. His features were noble, strongly marked, and impressed with that loyal and haughty expression so often met with among men accustomed to the rude, free life of the prairies.
He fixed his large, black, brilliant eyes upon the Babbler, a mysterious smile curled his lips, and he leant carelessly upon his rifle whilst listening to the guide.
"If I cause the people I am paid to escort and conduct to fall into your hands, you may depend upon it I will not do so unless I am amply recompensed," said the bandit.
"That is but fair," Kennedy remarked; "and the captain is ready to assure your being so recompensed."
"Yes," said the other, nodding his head in sign of agreement.
"Very well," the guide resumed. "But what will be my recompense?"
"What do you ask?" the captain said. "We must know what your conditions are before we agree to satisfy them."
"Oh! my terms are very moderate."
"Well, but what are they?"
The guide hesitated, or, rather, he calculated mentally the chances of gain and loss the affair offered; then in an instant, he replied:
"These Mexicans are very rich."
"Probably," said the captain.
"Therefore it appears to me——"
"Speak without tergiversation, Babbler; we have not time to listen to your circumlocutions. Like all half-bloods, the Indian nature always prevails in you, and you never come frankly to the purpose."
"Well, then," the guide bluntly replied, "I will have five thousand duros, or nothing shall be done."
"For once you speak out; now we know what we have to trust to; you demand five thousand dollars?"
"I do."
"And for that sum you agree to deliver up to us, the general, his niece, and all the individuals who accompany them."
"At your first signal."
"Very well! Now listen to what I am going to say to you."
"I listen."
"You know me, do you not?"
"Perfectly."
"You know dependence is to be placed upon my word?"
"It is as good as gold."
"That's well. If you loyally fulfil the engagements you freely make with me, that is to say, deliver up to me, not all the Mexicans who comprise your caravan, very respectable people no doubt, but for whom I care very little, but only the girl, called, I think, Doña Luz, I will not give you five thousand dollars as you ask, but eight thousand—you understand me, do you not?"
The eyes of the guide sparkled with greediness and cupidity.
"Yes!" he said emphatically.
"That's well."
"But it will be a difficult matter to draw her out of the camp alone."
"That's your affair."
"I should prefer giving them all up in a lump."
"Go to the devil! What could I do with them?"
"Hum! what will the general say?"
"What he likes; that is nothing to me. Yes or no—do you accept the offer I make you?"
"Oh! I accept it."
"Do you swear to be faithful to your engagements?"
"I swear."
"Now then, how long does the general reckon upon remaining in this new encampment?"
"Ten days."
"Why, then, did you tell me that you did not know how to draw the young girl out, having so much time before you?"
"Hum! I did not know when you would require her to be delivered up to you?"
"That's true. Well, I give you nine days; that is to say, on the eve of their departure the young girl must be given up to me."
"Oh! in that way——"
"Then that arrangement suits you?"
"It could not be better."
"Is it agreed?"
"Irrevocably."
"Here, then, Babbler," said the captain, giving the guide a magnificent diamond pin which he wore in his hunting shirt, "here is my earnest."
"Oh!" the bandit exclaimed, seizing the jewel joyfully.
"That pin," said the captain, "is a present I make you in addition to the eight thousand dollars I will hand over to you on receiving Doña Luz."
"You are noble and generous, captain," said the guide; "it is a pleasure to serve you."
"Still," the captain rejoined, in a rough voice, and with a look cold as a steel blade, "I would have you remember I am called he who kills; and that if you deceive me, there does not exist in the prairie a place sufficiently strong or sufficiently unknown to protect you from the terrible effects of my vengeance.
"I know that, captain," said the half-breed, shuddering in spite of himself; "but you may be quite satisfied I will not deceive you."
"I hope you will not! Now let us separate; your absence may be observed. In nine days I shall be here."
"In nine days I will place the girl in your hands."
After these words the guide returned to the camp, which he entered without being seen.
As soon as they were alone, the two men with whom the Babbler had just made this hideous and strange bargain, retreated silently among the underwood, through which they crawled like serpents.
They soon reached the banks of a little rivulet which ran, unperceived and unknown, through the forest. Kennedy whistled in a certain fashion twice.
A slight noise was heard, and a horseman, holding two horses in hand, appeared at a few paces from the spot where they had stopped.
"Come on, Frank," said Kennedy, "you may approach without fear."
The horsemen immediately advanced.
"What is there new?" Kennedy asked.
"Nothing very important," the horseman replied.
"I have discovered an Indian trail."
"Ah! ah!" said the captain, "numerous?"
"Rather so."
"In what direction?"
"It cuts the prairie from east to west."
"Well done, Frank, and who are these Indians?"
"As well as I can make out, they are Comanches."
The captain reflected a moment.
"Oh! it is some detachment of hunters," he said.
"Very likely," Frank replied.
The two men mounted.
"Frank and you, Kennedy," said the captain, at the expiration of a minute, "will go to the passage of the Buffalo, and encamp in the grotto which is there; carefully watching the movements of the Mexicans, but in such a manner as not to be discovered."
"Be satisfied of that, captain."
"Oh; I know you are very adroit and devoted comrades, therefore I perfectly rely upon you. Watch the Babbler, likewise; that half-breed only inspires me with moderate confidence."
"That shall be done!"
"Farewell, then, till we meet again. You shall soon hear of me."
Notwithstanding the darkness, the three men set off at a gallop, and were soon far in the desert, in two different directions.
The general had kept the causes which made him undertake a journey into the prairies from the west of the United States so profound a secret, that the persons who accompanied him had not even a suspicion of them.
Several times already, at his command, and without any apparent reason, the caravan had encamped in regions completely desert, where he had passed a week, and sometimes a fortnight, without any apparent motive for such a halt.
In these various encampments the general would set out every morning, attended by one of the guides, and not return till evening.
What was he doing during the long hours of his absence?
For what object were these explorations made, at the end of which a greater degree of sadness darkened his countenance?
No one knew.
During these excursions, Doña Luz led a sufficiently monotonous life, isolated among the rude people who surrounded her. She passed whole days seated sadly in front of her tent, or, mounted on horseback and escorted by Captain Aguilar or the fat doctor, she took rides near the camp, without object and without interest.
It happened this time again, exactly as it had happened at the preceding stations of the caravan.
The young girl, abandoned by her uncle, and even by the doctor, who was pursuing, with increasing ardour, the great research for his imaginary plant, and set out resolutely every morning herbalizing, was reduced to the company of Captain Aguilar.
But Captain Aguilar was, we are forced to admit, although young, elegant and endowed with a certain relative intelligence, not a very amusing companion for Doña Luz.
A brave soldier, with the courage of a lion, entirely devoted to the general, to whom he owed everything, the captain entertained for the niece of his chief great attachment and respect; he watched with the utmost care over her safety, but he was completely unacquainted with the means of rendering the time shorter by those attentions and that pleasant chat which are so agreeable to girls.
This time Doña Luz did not become soennuyéeas usual. Since that terrible night—from the time that one of those fabulous heroes whose history and incredible feats she had so often read, Loyal Heart, had appeared to her to save her and those who accompanied her—a new sentiment, which she had not even thought of analyzing, had germinated in her maiden heart, had grown by degrees, and in a very few days had taken possession of her whole being.
The image of the hunter was incessantly present to her thoughts, encircled with that ennobling glory which is won by the invincible energy of the man who struggles, body to body, with some immense danger, and forces it to acknowledge his superiority. She took delight in recalling to her partial mind the different scenes of that tragedy of a few hours, in which the hunter had played the principal character.
Her implacable memory, like that of all pure young girls, retraced with incredible fidelity the smallest details of those sublime phases.
In a word, she reconstructed in her thoughts the series of events in which the hunter had mingled, and in which he had, thanks to his indomitable courage and his presence of mind, extricated in so happy a fashion those he had suddenly come to succour, at the instant when they were without hope.
The hurried manner in which the hunter had left them, disdaining the most simple thanks, and appearing even unconcerned for those he had saved, had chilled the girl; she was piqued more than can be imagined by this real or affected indifference. And, consequently, she continually revolved means to make her preserver repent that indifference, if chance should a second time bring them together.
It is well known, although it may at the first glance appear a paradox, that from hatred, or, at least, from curiosity to love, there is but one step.
Doña Luz passed it at full speed, without perceiving it.
As we have said, Doña Luz had been educated in a convent, at the gates of which the sounds of the world died away without an echo. Her youth had passed calm and colourless, in the religious, or, rather, superstitious practices, upon which in Mexico religion is built. When her uncle took her from the convent to lead her with him through the journey he meditated into the prairies, the girl was ignorant of the most simple exigences of life, and had no more idea of the outward world, in which she was so suddenly cast, than a blind man has of the effulgent splendour of the sun's beams.
This ignorance, which seconded admirably the projects of the uncle, was for the niece a stumbling block against which she twenty times a day came into collision in spite of herself.
But, thanks to the care with which the general surrounded her, the few weeks which passed away before their departure from Mexico had been spent without too much pain by the young girl.
We feel called upon, however, to notice here an incident, trifling in appearance, but which left too deep a trace in the mind of Doña Luz not to be related.
The general was actively employed in getting together the people he wanted for his expedition, and was therefore obliged to neglect his niece more than he would have wished.
As he, however, feared that the young girl would be unhappy at being left so much alone with an old duenna in the palace he occupied, in the Calle de los Plateros, he sent her frequently to spend her evenings at the house of a female relation who received a select society, and with whom his niece passed her time in a comparatively agreeable manner.
Now one evening when the assembly had been more numerous than usual, the party did not break up till late.
At the first stroke of eleven, sounded by the ancient clock of the convent of the Merced Doña Luz and her duenna, preceded by a peon carrying a torch to light them, set off on their return home, casting anxious looks, right and left, on account of the character of the streets at that time of night. They had but a short distance to go, when all at once, on turning the corner of the Calle San Agustin to enter that of Plateros, four or five men of bad appearance seemed to rise from the earth, and surrounded the two women, after having previously, by a vigorous blow, extinguished the torch carried by the peon.
To express the terror of the young lady at this unexpected apparition, is impossible.
She was so frightened that, without having the strength to utter a cry, she fell on her knees, with her hands clasped, before the bandits.
The duenna, on the contrary, sent forth deafening screams.
The Mexican bandits, all very expeditious men, had, in the shortest time possible, reduced the duenna to silence, by gagging her with her own rebozo; then, with all the calmness which these worthies bring to the exercise of their functions, assured as they are of the impunity granted to them by that justice with which they generally go halves, proceeded to plunder their victims.
The operation was shortened by the latter, for, so far from offering any resistance, they tore off their jewels in the greatest haste, and the bandits pocketed them with grins of satisfaction.
But, at the very height of this enjoyment, a sword gleamed suddenly over their heads, and two of the bandits fell to the ground, swearing and howling with fury.
Those who were left standing, enraged at this unaccustomed attack, turned to avenge their companions, and rushed all together upon the aggressor.
The latter, heedless of their numbers, made a step backwards, placed himself on guard, and prepared to give them a welcome.
But, by chance, with the change in his position, the moonlight fell upon his face. The bandits instantly drew back in terror, and promptly sheathed their machetes.
"Ah, ah!" said the stranger, with a smile of contempt, as he advanced towards them, "you recognise me, my masters, do you? By the Virgin! I am sorry for it—I was preparing to give you a rather sharp lesson. Is this the manner in which you execute my orders?"
The bandits remained silent, contrite and repentant, in appearance at least.
"Come, empty your pockets, you paltry thieves, and restore to these ladies what you have taken from them!"
Without a moment's hesitation, the thieves unbandaged the duenna, and restored the rich booty which, an instant before, they had so joyfully appropriated to themselves.
Doña Luz could not overcome her astonishment, she looked with the greatest surprise at this strange man, who possessed such authority over bandits acknowledging neither faith nor law.
"Is this really all?" he said, addressing the young lady, "are you sure you miss nothing, señora?"
"Nothing—nothing, sir!" she replied, more dead than alive, and not knowing at all what she said.
"Now, then, begone, you scoundrels," the stranger continued; "I will take upon myself to be the escort of these ladies."
The bandits did not require to be twice told; they disappeared like a flight of crows, carrying off the wounded.
As soon as he was left alone with the two women, the stranger turned towards Doña Luz—
"Permit me, señorita," he said, with refined courtesy of manner, "to offer you my arm as far as your palace; the fright you have just experienced must render your steps uncertain."
Mechanically, and without reply, the young girl placed her hand within the arm so courteously offered to her, and they moved forward.
"When they arrived at the palace, the stranger knocked at the door, and then taking off his hat, said,—
"Señorita, I am happy that chance has enabled me to render you a slight service. I shall have the honour of seeing you again. I have already, for a long time, followed your steps like your shadow. God, who has granted me the favour of an opportunity of speaking with you once, will, I feel assured, grant me a second, although, in a few days, you are to set out on a long journey. Permit me then to say notadieu, butau revoir."
After bowing humbly and gracefully to the young lady, he departed at a rapid pace.
A fortnight after this strange adventure, of which she did not think fit to speak to her uncle, Doña Luz quitted Mexico, without having again seen the unknown. Only, on the eve of her departure, when retiring to her bedchamber, she found a folded note upon herprie-dieu. In this note were the following words, written in an elegant hand:—
"You are going, Doña Luz! Remember that I told you I should see you again.
"Your preserver of the Calle de los Plateros."
For a long time this strange meeting strongly occupied the mind of the young girl; for an instant, she had even believed that Loyal Heart and her unknown preserver were the same man; but this supposition had soon faded away. What probability was there in it? With that object could Loyal Heart, after having saved her, so quickly have departed? That would have been absurd.
But, by one of those consequences (or those inconsequences, whichever the reader pleases) of the human mind, in proportion as the affair of Mexico was effaced from her thoughts, that of Loyal Heart, became more prominent.
She longed to see the hunter and talk with him.
Why?
She did not herself know. To see him,—-to hear his voice,—to meet his look, at once so soft and so proud,—nothing else; all maidens would have done the same.
But how was she to see him again?
In reply to that question arose an impossibility, before which the poor girl dropped her head with discouragement.
And yet something at the bottom of her heart, perhaps that voice divine which in the reflections of love whispers to young girls, told her that her wish would soon be accomplished.
She hoped, then?
What for?
For some unforeseen incident,—a terrible danger, perhaps,—which might again bring them together.
True love may doubt sometimes, but it never despairs.
Four days after the establishment of the camp upon the hill, in the evening, when retiring to her tent, Doña Luz smiled inwardly as she looked at her uncle, who was pensively preparing to go to rest.
She had at length thought of a means of going in search of Loyal Heart.
The sun was scarcely above the horizon, when the general, whose horse was already saddled, left the reed cabin which served him as a sleeping apartment, and prepared to set out on his usual daily ride. At the moment when he was putting his foot in the stirrup, a little hand lifted the curtain of the tent, and Doña Luz appeared.
"Oh! oh! what, up already!" said the general, smiling. "So much the better, dear child. I shall be able to have a kiss before I set out; and that perhaps may bring me good luck," he added, stifling a sigh.
"You will not go thus, uncle," she replied, presenting her cheek, upon which he placed a kiss.
"Why not, fair lady?" he asked gaily.
"Because I wish you to partake of something I have prepared for you before you mount on horseback; you cannot refuse me, can you, dear uncle?" she said, with that coaxing smile of spoilt children which delights the hearts of old men.
"No, certainly not, dear child, upon condition that the breakfast you offer me so gracefully be not delayed. I am rather in a hurry."
"I only ask for a few minutes," she replied, returning to the tent.
"For a few minutes be it then," said he, following her.
The young girl clapped her hands with joy.
In the twinkling of an eye, the breakfast was ready, and the general at table with his niece. Whilst assisting her uncle, and taking great care that he wanted for nothing, the young girl looked at him from time to time in an embarrassed manner, and did it so evidently, that the old soldier ended by observing it.
"It is my opinion," he said, laying down his knife and fork, and looking at her earnestly, "that you have something to ask me, Lucita; you know very well that I am not accustomed to refuse you anything."
"That is true, dear uncle; but this time, I am afraid, you will be more difficult to be prevailed upon."
"Ah! ah!" the general said, gaily; "it must be something serious, then!"
"Quite the contrary, uncle; and yet, I confess, I am afraid you will refuse me."
"Speak, notwithstanding, my child," said the old soldier; "speak without fear; when you have told me what this mighty affair is, I will soon answer you."
"Well, uncle," the girl said, blushing, but determined on her purpose, "I am compelled to say that the residence in the camp has nothing agreeable about it."
"I can conceive that, my child; but what do you wish me to do to make it otherwise?"
"Everything."
"How so, dear?"
"Nay, dear, uncle, if you were always here, it would not be dull; I should have your company."
"What you say is very amiable; but, as you know I am absent every morning, I cannot be here, and——-
"That is exactly where the difficulty lies."
"That is true."
"But, if you were willing, it could be easily removed."
"Do you think so?"
"I am sure of it."
"Well, I don't see too clearly how, unless I remained always with you, and that is impossible."
"Oh; there are other means that would arrange the whole affair."
"Nonsense!"
"Yes, uncle, and very simple means too."
"Well, then, darling, what are these means?"
"You will not scold me, uncle?"
"Silly child! do I ever scold you?"
"That is true! You are so kind."
"Come, then; speak out, little pet?"
"Well, uncle, these means——"
"These means are?"
"That you should take me with you every morning."
"Oh! oh!" said the general, whose brows became contracted; "do you know what you ask me, my dear child?"
"Why, a very natural thing, uncle, as I think."
The general made no reply; he reflected. The girl watched anxiously the fugitive traces of his thoughts upon his countenance.
At the end of a few instants, he raised his head.
"Well, perhaps," he murmured, "it would be better so;" and fixing a piercing look upon his niece, he said, "it would give you pleasure, then, to accompany me?"
"Yes, uncle, yes!" she replied.
"Well, then, get ready, my dear child; henceforth you shall accompany me in my excursions."
She arose from her seat with a bound, kissed her uncle warmly, and gave orders for her horse to be saddled.
A quarter of an hour later, Doña Luz and her uncle, preceded by the Babbler, and followed by two lanceros, quitted the camp, and plunged into the forest.
"Which way would you wish to direct your course, today, general?" the guide asked.
"Conduct me to the huts of those trappers you spoke of yesterday."
The guide bowed in sign of obedience. The little party advanced slowly and with some difficulty along a scarcely traced path, where, at every step, the horses became entangled in the creeping plants, or stumbled over the roots of trees above the level of the ground.
Doña Luz was gay and happy. Perhaps in these excursions she might meet with Loyal Heart.
The Babbler, who was a few paces in advance, suddenly uttered a cry.
"Eh!" said the general, "what extraordinary thing has happened, Master Babbler, to induce you to speak?"
"The bees, señor."
"What! bees! are there bees here?"
"Yes; but lately only."
"How only lately?"
"Why, you know, of course, that bees were brought into America by the whites."
"That, I know. How is it, then, they are met with here?"
"Nothing more simple; the bees are the advanced sentinels of the whites. In proportion as the whites penetrate into the interior of America, the bees go forward to trace the route for them, and point out the clearings. Their appearance in an uninhabited country always presages the arrival of a colony of pioneers or squatters."
"That is something strange," the general murmured; "are you sure of what you are telling me?"
"Oh! quite sure, señor; the fact is well known to all Indians, they are not mistaken in it, be assured; for as soon as they see the bees arrive, they retreat."
"That is truly singular."
"The honey must be very good," said Doña Luz.
"Excellent, señorita, and if you wish for it, nothing is more easy than to get it."
"Get some, then," said the general.
The guide, who some moments before had placed a bait for the bees upon the bushes, to which, with his piercing sight, he had already seen several bees attracted, made a sign to those behind him to stop.
The bees had, in fact, lighted upon the bait, and were examining it all over; when they had made their provision, they rose very high into the air, and then took flight in a direct line with the velocity of a cannon ball.
The guide carefully watched the direction they took, and making a sign to the general, he sprang after them, followed by the whole party, clearing themselves a way through interlaced roots, fallen trees, bushes and briars, their eyes directed all the while towards the sky.
In this fashion they never lost sight of the laden bees, and after a difficult pursuit of an hour, they saw them arrive at their nest, constructed in the hollow of a dead ebony tree; after buzzing for a moment, they entered a hole situated at more than eighty feet from the ground.
Then the guide, after having warned his companions to keep at a respectful distance, in order to be out of the way of the falling tree and the vengeance of its inhabitants, seized his axe and attacked the ebony vigorously near the base.
The bees did not seem at all alarmed by the strokes of the axe; they continued going in and out, carrying on their industrial labours in full security. A violent cracking even, which announced the splitting of the trunk, did not divert them from their occupations.
At length the tree fell, with a horrible crash, opening the whole of its length, and leaving the accumulated treasures of the community exposed to view.
The guide immediately seized a bundle of hay which he had prepared, and to which he set fire to defend himself from the bees.
But they attacked nobody; they did not seek to avenge themselves. The poor creatures were stupefied; they ran and flew about in all directions round their destroyed empire, without thinking of anything but how to account for this unlooked-for catastrophe.
Then the guide and the lanceros set to work with spoons and knives to get out the comb and put it into the wineskins.
Some of the comb was of a deep brown, and of ancient date, other parts were of a beautiful white; the honey in the cells was almost limpid.
Whilst they were hastening to get possession of the best combs, they saw arrive on the wing from all points of the horizon numberless swarms of honey bees, who, plunging into the broken cells, loaded themselves, whilst the ex-proprietors of the hive, dull and stupefied, looked on, without seeking to save the least morsel, at the robbery of their honey.
It is impossible to describe the astonishment of the bees that were absent at the moment of the catastrophe, as they arrived at their late home with their cargoes; they described circles in the air round the place the tree had occupied, astonished to find it empty; at length, however they seemed to comprehend their disaster, and collected in groups upon the dried branch of a neighbouring tree, appearing to contemplate thence the fallen ruin, and to lament the destruction of their empire.
Doña Luz felt affected in spite of herself, at the trouble of these poor creatures.
"Let us go," she said, "I repent of having wished for honey; my greediness has made too many unhappy."
"Let us be gone," said the general, smiling; "leave them these few combs."
"Oh!" said the guide, shrugging his shoulders, "they will soon be carried away by the vermin."
"The vermin! What vermin do you mean?" the general asked.
"Oh! the raccoons, the opossums, but particularly the bears."
"The bears?" said Doña Luz.
"Oh, señorita!" the guide replied, "they are the cleverest vermin in the world in discovering a tree of bees, and getting their share of the honey."
"Do they like honey, then?" said the lady, with excited curiosity.
"Why, they are mad after it, señorita," the guide, who really seemed to relax of his cynical humour, rejoined. "Imagine how greedy they are after it, when they will gnaw a tree for weeks, until they succeed in making a hole large enough to put their paws in, and then they carry off honey and bees, without taking the trouble to choose."
"Now," said the general, "let us resume our route, and seek the residence of the trappers."
"Oh! we shall soon be there, señor," replied the guide; "the great Canadian river is within a few paces of us, and trappers are established all along the streams which flow into it."
The little party proceeded on their way again.
The bee hunt had left an impression of sadness on the mind of the young lady, which, although unconscious of it, she could not overcome. Those poor little creatures, so gentle and so industrious, attacked and ruined for a caprice, grieved her, and, in spite, of herself, made her thoughtful.
Her uncle perceived this disposition of her mind.
"Dear child!" he said, "what is passing in your little head? You are no longer so gay as when we set out; whence comes this sudden change?"
"Good heavens! uncle, do not let that disturb you; I am, like other young girls, rather wild and whimsical; this bee hunt, from which I promised myself so much pleasure, has left a degree of sadness behind it that I cannot get rid of."
"Happy child!" the general murmured, "whom so futile a cause has still the power to trouble. God grant, darling, that you may continue long in that disposition, and that greater and more real troubles may never reach you!"
"My kind uncle, shall I not always be happy while near you?"
"Alas! my child, who knows whether God may permit me to watch over you long!"
"Do not say so, uncle; I hope we have many years to pass together."
The general only responded to this hope by a sigh.
"Uncle," the girl resumed, after a few moments, "do you not find that the aspect of the grand and sublime nature which surrounds us has something striking in it that ennobles our ideas, elevates the soul, and renders man better? How happy must they be who live in these boundless deserts!"
The general looked at her with astonishment.
"Whence come these thoughts to your mind, dear child?" he said.
"I do not know, uncle," she replied, timidly; "I am but an ignorant girl, whose life, still so short, has flowed on to this moment calm and peaceful, under your protection. And yet there are moments when it seems to me that I should be happy to live in these vast deserts."
The general, surprised, and inwardly charmed at the ingenuous frankness of his niece, was preparing to answer her, when the guide, suddenly coming up to them, made a sign to command silence, by saying, in a voice as low as a breath,—
"A man!"
Everyone stopped.
In the desert, this word man almost always means an enemy. Man in the prairies is more dreaded by his fellow than the most ferocious wild beast. A man is a rival, a forced associate, who, by the right of being the stronger, comes to share with the first occupant, and often, if we may not say always, strives to deprive him of the fruits of his thankless labour.
Thus, whites, Indians, or half-breeds, when they meet in the prairies, salute each other with eye on the watch, ears open, and the finger on the trigger of the rifle.
At this cry of a man, the general and the lanceros, at all hazards, prepared against a sudden attack by cocking their guns, and concealing themselves as much as possible behind the bushes.
At fifty paces before them stood an individual, who, the butt on the ground, and his two hands leaning on the barrel of a long rifle, was observing them attentively.
He was a man of lofty stature, with energetic features and a frank, determined look. His long hair, arranged with care, was plaited, mingled with otter skins and ribbons of various colours. A hunting blouse of ornamented leather fell to his knees; gaiters of a singular cut, ornamented with strings, fringes, and a profusion of little bells covered his legs; his shoes consisted of a pair of superb moccasins, embroidered with false pearls.
A scarlet blanket hung from his shoulders, and was fastened round his middle by a red belt, through which were passed two pistols, a knife, and an Indian pipe.
His rifle was profusely decorated with vermilion and little copper nails.
At a few paces from him his horse was browsing on the mast of the trees.
Like its master, it was equipped in the most fantastic manner, spotted and striped with vermilion, the reins and crupper ornamented with beads and bunches of ribbon, while its head, mane, and tail, were abundantly decorated with eagle's feathers floating in the wind.
At sight of this personage the general could not restrain a cry of surprise.
"To what Indian tribe does this man belong?" he asked the guide.
"To none," the latter replied.
"How, to none?"
"No; he is a white trapper."
"And so dressed?"
The guide shrugged his shoulders.
"We are in the prairies;" he said.
"That is true," the general murmured.
In the meantime, the individual we have described, tired, no doubt, of the hesitation of the little party before him, and wishing to know what their disposition was, resolutely accosted them.
"Eh! eh!" he said in English, "Who the devil are you—and what are you seeking here?"
"Caramba!" the general replied, throwing his gun behind him, and ordering his people to do the same; "we are travellers, fatigued with a long journey; the sun is hot, and we ask permission to rest a short time in your rancho."
These words being spoken in Spanish, the trapper replied in the same language,—
"Approach without fear; Black Elk is a good sort of fellow when people do not seek to thwart him; you shall share the little he possesses, and much good may it do you."
At the name of Black Elk the guide could not repress a movement of terror; he wished even to say a few words, but he had not time, for the hunter, throwing his gun upon his shoulder, and leaping into his saddle with a bound, advanced towards the Mexicans.
"My rancho is a few paces from this spot," said he to the general; "if the señorita is inclined to taste the well-seasoned hump of a buffalo, I am in a position to offer her that piece of politeness."
"I thank you, caballero," the young lady replied, with a smile; "but I confess that at this moment I stand in more need of repose than anything else."
"Everything will come in its time," the trapper said sententiously. "Permit me, for a few moments, to take the place of your guide."
"We are at your orders," said the general; "go on, we will follow you."
"Forward! then," said the trapper, placing himself at the head of the little troop.
At this moment his eyes fell by chance upon the guide—his thick eyebrows contracted. "Hum!" he muttered to himself, "what does this mean? We shall see," he added.
And without taking further notice of the man, without appearing to recognise him, he gave the signal for departure.
After riding for some time silently along the banks of a moderately wide rivulet, the trapper made a sharp turn, and departing from the stream suddenly, plunged again into the forest.
"I crave your pardon," he said, "for making you turn out of your way; but this is a beaver pond, and I do not wish to frighten them."
"Oh!" the young lady cried, "how delighted I should be to see those industrious animals at work!"
The trapper stopped.
"Nothing more easy, señorita," he said, "if you will follow me, while your companions remain here, and wait for us."
"Yes, yes!" Doña Luz replied eagerly; but checking herself all at once, added, "Oh, pardon me, dear uncle."
The general cast a look at the trapper.
"Go, my child," he said, "we will wait for you here."
"Thank you, uncle," the young girl remarked joyfully, as she leaped from her horse.
"I will be answerable for her," the trapper said frankly; "fear nothing."
"I fear nothing when trusting her to your care, my friend," the general replied.
"Thanks!" And making a sign to Doña Luz, Black Elk disappeared with her among the bushes and trees.
When they had gone some distance, the trapper stopped. After listening and looking around him on all sides, he stooped towards the young girl, and laying his hand lightly on her right arm, said,—
"Listen!"
Doña Luz stood still, uneasy and trembling.
The trapper perceived her agitation.
"Be not afraid," he rejoined; "I am an honest man; you are in as much safety here alone with me in this desert as if you were in the Cathedral of Mexico, at the foot of the high altar."
The young girl cast a furtive glance at the trapper. In spite of his singular costume, his face wore such an expression of frankness, his eye was so soft and limpid, when fixed upon her, that she felt completely reassured.
"Speak," she said.
"You belong," the trapper resumed, "I perceive now, to that party of strangers who, for some days past, have been exploring the prairies in every direction. Do you not?"
"Yes."
"Among you is a sort of madman, who wears blue spectacles and a white wig, and who amuses himself—for what purpose I cannot tell—with making a provision of herbs and stones, instead of trying, like a brave hunter, to trap a beaver, or knock over a deer."
"I know the man you speak of; he, as you suppose, forms part of our troop; he is a very learned physician."
"I know he is; he told me so himself. He often comes this way. We are very good friends. By means of a powder, which he persuaded me to take, he completely checked a fever which had tormented me two months, and of which I could not get rid."
"Indeed! I am happy to hear of such a result."
"I should like to do something for you, to show my gratitude for that service."
"I thank you, my friend, but I cannot see anything in which you can be useful to me, unless it be in showing me the beavers."
The trapper shook his head.
"Perhaps in something else," he said, "and that much sooner than you may fancy. Listen to me attentively, señorita. I am but a poor man; but here in the prairie, we know many things that God reveals to us, because we live face to face with Him. I will give you a piece of good advice. That man who serves you as a guide is an arrant scoundrel, and is known as such throughout all the prairies of the West. I am very much deceived if he will not lead you into some ambush. There is no lack here of plenty of rogues with whom he may lay plans to destroy you, or least, rob you."
"Are you sure of what you say?" the girl exclaimed, terrified at words which coincided so strangely with what Loyal Heart had said to her.
"I am as sure as a man can be who affirms a thing of which he has no proof; that is to say, after the antecedents of the Babbler everything of the sort must be expected from him. Believe me, if he has not already betrayed you, it will not be long before he will."
"Good God! I will go and warn my uncle."
"Beware of doing that! that would ruin all! The people with whom your guide will soon be in collusion, if he be not so already, are numerous, determined, and thoroughly acquainted with the prairie."
"What is to be done, then?" the young lady asked in great alarm.
"Nothing. Wait; and, without appearing to do so, carefully watch all your guide's proceedings."
"But——"
"You must be sure," the trapper interrupted, "that if I lead you to mistrust him, it is not with a view of deserting you when the moment comes for requiring my help."
"Oh! I believe that."
"Well, then, this is what you must do: as soon as you are certain that your guide has betrayed you, send your old mad doctor to me,—you can trust him, can you not?"
"Entirely!"
"Very well. Then, as I have said, you must send him to me, charging him only to say this to me. 'Black Elk'—I am Black Elk."
"I know you are; you told us so."
"That is right. He will say to me, 'Black Elk, the hour is come,' and nothing else. Shall you remember these words?"
"Perfectly. Only, I do not clearly understand how that can serve us."
The trapper smiled in a mysterious manner.
"Hum!" he said, after a short pause, "these few words will bring to you, in two hours, fifty men, the bravest in the prairies,—men who, at a signal from their leader, would allow themselves to be killed rather than leave you in the hands of those who will have possession of you, if what I expect should happen."
There was a moment of silence,—Doña Luz appeared very thoughtful.
The trapper smiled.
"Do not be surprised at the warm interest I take in you," he said, "a man who has entire power over me, has made me swear to watch over you, during an absence he has been compelled to make."
"What do you mean by that?" she said with awakened curiosity. "And who is this man?"
"He is a hunter who commands all the white trappers of the prairies. Knowing that you had the Babbler for a guide, he suspects that the half-breed intends to draw you into some snare?
"But the name of the man?" she cried, in an anxious, excited tone.
"Loyal Heart. Will you have confidence in me now?"
"Thanks, my friend, thanks!" the young lady replied, with great emotion. "I will not forget your instructions; and when the moment comes—if unfortunately it should come—I will not hesitate to remind you of your promise."
"And you will do well, señorita, because it will then be the only means of safety left you. You understand me perfectly, and all is well. Be sure to keep our conversation to yourself. Above all, do not appear to have any secret understanding with me; that devil of a half-breed is as cunning as a beaver; if he suspect anything, he will slip through your fingers, like the viper he is."
"Be satisfied; I will be mute."
"Now let us pursue our way to the Beaver Pond. Loyal Heart watches over you."
"He has already saved our lives on the occasion of the conflagration of the prairies," she said with emotion.
"Ah! ah!" the trapper murmured, fixing his eyes upon her with a singular expression, "everything is for the best, then." And he added in a loud voice: "Be without fear, señorita, if you follow strictly the advice I have given you, no evil will happen to you in the prairies, whatever be the treachery to which you may be exposed."
"Oh!" the girl cried, with great warmth, "in the hour of danger I will not hesitate to have recourse to you—I swear I will not!"
"That is settled," said the Black Elk, smiling; "now let us go and see the beavers."
They resumed their walk, and at the end of a few minutes arrived on the verge of the forest. The trapper then stopped, and making a sign to the young girl to be motionless, turned towards her, and whispered—
"Look!"
Doña Luz gently pushed aside the branches of the willows and bending her head forward, she surveyed the scene.
The beavers had not only intercepted the course of the river by means of their industrious community, but, still further, all the rivulets that ran into it had their courses stopped, so as to transform the surrounding ground into one vast marsh.
One beaver alone was at work, at the moment, on the principal dam; but very shortly five others appeared, carrying pieces of wood, mud, and bushes. They then all together directed their course towards a part of the barrier which, as the lady could perceive, needed repair. They deposited their load on the broken part, and plunged into the water, but only to reappear almost instantly on the surface.
Everyone brought up a certain quantity of slimy mud, which they employed as mortar to join and render firm the pieces of wood and the bushes; they went away and returned again with more wood and mud; in short, this work of masonry was carried on till the breach had entirely disappeared.
As soon as all was in order, the industrious animals enjoyed a moment's recreation; they pursued each other in the pond, plunged to the bottom of the water, or sported on the surface, striking the water noisily with their tails.
Doña Luz beheld this singular spectacle with increasing interest. She could have remained the whole day watching these strange animals.
Whilst the first were amusing themselves thus, two other members of the community appeared. For some time they looked gravely on at the sports of their companions, without showing any inclination to join them; then climbing up the steep bank not far from the spot where the trapper and the young girl were watching, they seated themselves upon their hind paws, leaning the fore ones upon a young pine, and beginning to gnaw the bark of it. Sometimes they detached a small piece, and held it between their paws, still remaining seated; they nibbled it with contortions and grimaces pretty much resembling those of a monkey shelling a walnut.
The evident object of these beavers was to cut down the tree, and they laboured at it earnestly. It was a young pine of about eighteen inches in diameter at the part where they attacked it, as straight as an arrow, and of considerable height. No doubt they would soon have succeeded in cutting it through; but the general, uneasy at the prolonged absence of his niece, made up his mind to go in search of her, and the beavers, terrified at the noise of the horses, dived into the water and disappeared.
The general reproached his niece gently for her long absence; but she, delighted with what she had seen, did not heed him, and promised herself to be frequently an invisible spectator of the proceedings of the beavers.
The little party, under the direction of the trapper, directed their course towards the rancho, in which he had offered them shelter from the burning rays of the sun, which was now at its zenith.
Doña Luz, whose curiosity was excited to the highest pitch by the attractive spectacle at which she had been present, determined to make up for her uncle's unwelcome interruption by asking Black Elk all the particulars of the habits of the beavers, and the manner in which they were caught.
The trapper, like all men who live much alone, had no objection, when opportunity offered, to relax from the silence he was generally obliged to preserve, and therefore did not require much pressing.
"Oh, oh, señorita," he said, "the redskins say that the beaver is a man who does not speak; and they are right—he is brave, wise, prudent, industrious, and economical. Thus, when winter arrives, the whole family go to work to prepare provisions; young as well as old, all work. They are often obliged to make long journeys to find the bark they prefer. They sometimes bring down moderately large trees, cutting off the branches, whose bark is most to their taste; they cut it into pieces about three feet long, and transport them to the water, where they set them floating towards their huts, in which they store them. Their habitations are clean and convenient. They take great care, after their repasts, to throw into the current of the river, below the dam, the piece of wood off which they have gnawed the bark. They never permit a strange beaver to come and establish himself near them, and often fight with the greatest fury to secure the freedom of their territories."
"Oh! nothing can be more curious than all this!" Doña Luz exclaimed.
"Ah, but," the trapper rejoined, "that is not all. In the spring, which is the generating season, the male leaves the female in the house, and goes, like a great lord, on a tour of pleasure; sometimes to a great distance, sporting in the limpid waters he falls in with, And climbing their banks to gnaw the tender branches of the young poplars and willows. But when summer comes, he abandons his bachelor life and returns to his mate and her new progeny, which he leads to forage in search of provisions for winter."
"It must be confessed," said the general, "that this animal is one of the most interesting in creation."
"Yes," Doña Luz added, "and I cannot understand how people can make up their minds to hunt them as if they were mischievous beasts."
"What is to be said for it, señorita?" the trapper replied, philosophically; "all animals were created for man—this one above others, its fur is so valuable."
"That is true," said the general; "but," he added, "how do you set about this chase? All beavers are not so confiding as these; there are some that conceal their huts with extreme care."
"Yes," Black Elk replied; "but habit has given the experienced trapper so certain a glance, that he discovers, by the slightest sign, the track of a beaver; and although the hut be concealed by thick underwood and the willows which shade it, it is very seldom that he cannot guess the exact number of its inhabitants. He then places his trap, fastens it to the bank, two or three inches under water, and secures it by a chain to a pole strongly fixed in the mud or sand. A little twig is then deprived of its bark, and soaked in the medicine, for so we call the bait we employ; this twig is so placed as to rise three or four inches above the water, whilst its extremity is fixed in the opening of the trap. The beaver, which is endowed with a very subtle smell, is quickly attracted by the odour of the bait. As soon as it advances its snout to seize it, its foot is caught in the trap. In great terror, it tries to dive into the water, but the chained trap resists all its efforts; it struggles for some time, but at last, its strength being exhausted, it sinks to the bottom of the water, and is drowned. This, señorita, is the way in which beavers are generally taken. But in rocky beds, where it is not possible to fix the poles to retain the trap, we are often obliged to search for a length of time for the captured beavers, and even to swim to great distances. It also happens that when several members of the same family have been taken, the others become mistrustful. Then, whatever stratagems we have recourse to, it is impossible to get them to bite the bait. They approach the traps with precaution, let off the spring with a stick, and often even turn the traps upside down, dragging them under their dam, and burying them in the mud.
"What do you do then?" Doña Luz asked.
"Why, then," Black Elk replied, "we have but one thing left to do, and that is, throw our traps upon our backs, own ourselves beaten by the beavers, and go further afield to seek others less Cunning. But here is my rancho."
At this moment the travellers arrived at a miserable hut, made of interlaced branches of trees, scarcely capable of sheltering them from the rays of the sun, and in every respect resembling, as regarded convenience, those of other trappers of the prairies, who are men that trouble themselves the least about the comforts of life.
Nevertheless, such as it was, Black Elk did the honours of it very warmly to the strangers.
A second trapper was squatting before the hut, occupied in watching the roasting of the buffalo's hump which Black Elk had promised his guests.
This man, whose costume was in all respects like that of Black Elk, was scarcely forty years old; but the fatigue and numberless miseries of his hard profession had dug upon his face such a network of inextricable wrinkles as made him look older than he was in reality.
In fact, there does not exist in the world a more dangerous, more painful, or less profitable trade than that of a trapper. These poor people are often, whether by Indians or hunters, robbed of their hard-earned gains, scalped, and massacred, and no one troubles himself to learn what has become of them.
"Take your place, señorita; and you also, gentlemen," said Black Elk, politely. "However poor my hut may be, it is large enough to contain you all."
The travellers cheerfully accepted his invitation; they alighted from their horses, and were soon stretched comfortably upon beds of dry leaves, covered with the skins of bears, elks, and buffaloes.
The repast—truly a hunter's repast—was washed down with some cups of excellent mezcal which the general always carried with him in his expeditions, and which the trappers appreciated as it deserved.
Whilst Doña Luz, the guide, and the lanceros, took a siesta of a few minutes, till the heat of the sun's rays should be a little abated, the general, begging Black Elk to follow him, went out of the hut.
As soon as they were at a sufficient distance, the general seated himself at the foot of an ebony tree, motioning for his companion to follow his example which he immediately did.
After a moment's silence, the general said,—
"Allow me, my friend, in the first place, to thank you for your frank hospitality. That duty performed, I wish to put a few questions to you."
"Caballero!" the trapper replied, evasively, "you know what the redskins say: between every word smoke your calumet, in order to weigh your words well."
"You speak like a sensible man; but be satisfied that I have no intention of putting questions to you that concern your profession, or any object that can affect you personally."
"If I am able to answer you, caballero, be assured I will not hesitate to satisfy you."
"Thank you, friend, I expected no less from you. How long have you been an inhabitant of the prairies?"
"Ten years, already, sir; and God grant I may remain here as many more."
"This sort of life pleases you then?"
"More than I can tell you. A man must, as I have done, begin it almost as a boy, undergo all the trials, endure all the sufferings, partake all its hazards, in order to understand all the intoxicating charms it procures, the celestial joys it gives, and the unknown pleasures into which it plunges us! Oh! caballero, the most beautiful and largest city of old Europe is very little, very dirty, very mean compared with the desert. Your cramped, regulated, compassed life is miserable compared to ours! It is here only that man feels the air penetrate easily into his lungs, that he lives, that he thinks. Civilization brings him down almost to the level of the brute, leaving him no instinct but that which enables him to pursue sordid interests. Whereas, in the desert, in the prairie, face to face with God, his ideas enlarge, his spirit grows, and he becomes really what the Supreme Being meant to make him; that is to say, the king of the creation."
Whilst pronouncing these words the trapper was, in a manner, transfigured; his countenance assumed an inspired expression, his eyes flashed fire, and his gestures were impressed with that nobleness which passion alone gives.
The general sighed deeply, a furtive tear trickled over his grey moustache.
"That's true," he said, sadly; "this life has strange charms for the man who has tasted it, and they attach him by bonds nothing can break. When you arrived in the prairies, whence did you come?"
"I came from Quebec, sir; I am a Canadian."
"Ah!"
A silence of a few minutes ensued, but it was, at length, broken by the general.