In order to make the reader comprehend the position of the hunters, it is necessary to return to the Comanche chief.
Scarce had his enemies disappeared among the trees, ere Eagle Head raised himself softly up, bent his body forward, and listened to ascertain if they were really departing. As soon as he had acquired that certainty, he tore off a morsel of his blanket with which he wrapped up his arm as well as he could, and, in spite of the weakness produced by loss of blood and the pain he suffered, he set off resolutely on the trail of the hunters.
He accompanied them, thus himself unseen, to the limits of the camp. There, concealed behind an ebony tree, he witnessed, without being able to prevent it, though boiling with rage, the search made by the hunters for their traps, and, at length, their departure after recovering them.
Although the bloodhounds which the hunters had with them were excellent dogs, trained to scent an Indian from a distance, by a providential chance, which probably saved the life of the Comanche chief, they had fallen upon the remains of the repast of the redskins, and their masters, not dreaming that they were watched, did not think of commanding their vigilance.
The Comanches at length regained their camp, after having, with infinite difficulty, succeeded in catching their horses.
The sight of their wounded chief caused them great surprise, and still greater anger, of which Eagle Head took advantage to send them all off again in pursuit of the hunters, who, retarded by the traps they carried, could not be far off, and must inevitably fall speedily into their hands.
They had been but for an instant the dupes of the stratagem invented by Loyal Heart, and had not been long in recognising, on the first trees of the forest unequivocal traces of the passage of their enemies.
At this moment, Eagle Head, ashamed of being thus held in check by two determined men, whose cunning, superior to his own, deceived all his calculations, resolved to put an end to them at once, by carrying into execution the diabolical project of setting fire to the forest; a means which, according to the manner in which he meant to employ it, must, he did not doubt, at length deliver his formidable adversaries up to him.
In consequence, dispersing his warriors in various directions, so as to form a vast circle, he ordered the high grass to be set on fire in various places simultaneously.
The idea, though barbarous and worthy of the savage warriors who employed it, was a good one. The hunters, after having vainly endeavoured to escape from the network of flame which encompassed them on all sides, would be obliged, in spite of themselves, if they did not prefer being burnt alive, to surrender quietly to their ferocious enemies.
Eagle Head had calculated and foreseen everything, except the most easy and most simple thing, the only chance of safety that would be left to Loyal Heart and his companions.
As we have said, at the command of their chief the warriors had dispersed, and had lighted the conflagration at several points simultaneously.
At this advanced season of the year, the plants and grass, parched by the incandescent rays of the summer's sun, were immediately in a blaze, and the fire extended in all directions with frightful rapidity.
Not, however, so quickly as not to allow a certain time to elapse before it united.
Loyal Heart had not hesitated. Whilst the Indians were running like demons around the barrier of flame they had just opposed to their enemies, and were uttering yells of joy, the hunter, followed by his friend, had rushed at full speed between two walls of fire, which from right and left advanced upon him, hissing, and threatening to unite at once above his head and beneath his feet. Amidst calcined trees which fell with a crash, blinded by clouds of thick smoke which stopped their respiration, burnt by showers of sparks which poured upon them from all parts, following boldly their course beneath a vault of flame, the intrepid adventurers had cleared, at the cost of a few trifling burns, the accursed enclosure in which the Indians had thought to bury them for ever, and were already far from the enemies who were congratulating themselves upon the success of their artful and barbarous plan.
The conflagration, in the meantime, assumed formidable proportions; the forest shrivelled up under the grasp of the fire; the prairie was but one sheet of flame, in the midst of which the wild animals, driven from their dens and lairs by this unexpected catastrophe, ran about, mad with terror.
The sky gleamed with blood-red reflections, and an impetuous wind swept before it both flames and smoke.
The Indians themselves were terrified at their own handiwork, on seeing around them entire mountains lighted up like baleful beacons; the earth became hot, and immense troops of buffalos made the ground tremble with their furious course, while they uttered those bellowings of despair which fill with terror the hearts of the bravest men.
In the camp of the Mexicans everything was in the greatest disorder; it was all noise and frightful confusion. The horses had broken their shackles, and fled away in all directions; the men seized their arms and ammunition; others carried the saddles and packages.
Everyone was crying, swearing, commanding—all were running about the camp as if they had been struck with madness.
The fire continued to advance majestically, swallowing up everything in its passage, preceded by a countless number of animals of all kinds, who bounded along with howls of fear, pursued by the scourge which threatened to overtake them at every step.
A thick smoke, laden with sparks, was already passing over the camp of the Mexicans; twenty minutes more and all would be over with them.
The general, pressing his niece in his arms, in vain demanded of the guides the best means of avoiding the immense peril which threatened them.
But these men, terrified by the imminence of the peril, had lost all self-possession. And then, what remedy could be employed? The flames formed an immense circle, of which the camp had become the centre.
The strong breeze, however, which up to that moment had kept alive the conflagration, by lending it wings, sank all at once.
There was not a breath of air.
The progress of the fire slackened.
Providence granted these unhappy creatures a few minutes more.
At this moment the camp presented a strange aspect.
All the men, struck with terror, had lost the sense even of self-preservation.
Thelancerosconfessed to each other.
The guides were plunged in gloomy despair.
The general accused Heaven of his misfortune.
As for the doctor, he only regretted the plant he could not discover; with him every other consideration yielded to that.
Doña Luz, with her hands clasped, and her knees on the ground, was praying fervently.
The fire continued to approach, with its vanguard of wild beasts.
"Oh!" cried the general, shaking the arm of the guide violently, "will you leave us to be burnt thus, without making an effort to save us?"
"What can be done against the will of God?" the Babbler replied, stoically.
"Are there no means, then, of preserving us from death?"
"None!"
"There is one!" a man cried, who, with a scorched face, and half-burnt hair, rushed into the camp, climbing over the baggage, and followed by another individual.
"Who are you?" the general exclaimed.
"That is of little consequence," the stranger replied, drily; "I come to save you! My companion and I were out of danger; to succour you we have braved unheard-of perils—that should satisfy you. Your safety is in your own hands; you have only to will it."
"Command!" the general replied, "I will be the first to give you the example of obedience."
"Have you no guides with you, then?"
"Certainly we have," said the general.
"Then they are traitors or cowards, for the means I am about to employ are known to everybody in the prairie."
The general darted a glance of mistrust at the Babbler, who had not been able to suppress an appearance of disagreeable surprise at the sudden coming of the two strangers.
"Well," said the hunter, "that is an account you can settle with them hereafter; we have something else to think of now."
The Mexicans at the sight of this determined man, with his sharp impressive language, had instinctively beheld a preserver; they felt their courage revive with hope, and held themselves ready to execute his orders with promptness.
"Be quick!" said the hunter, "and pull up all the grass that surrounds the camp."
Everyone set to work at once.
"For our part," the stranger continued, addressing the general, "we will take wetted blankets and spread them in front of the baggage."
The general, the captain, and the doctor, under the directions of the hunter, did as he desired, whilst his companion lassoed the horses and the mules, and hobbled them in the centre of the camp.
"Be quick! be quick!" the hunter cried incessantly, "the fire gains upon us!"
Everyone redoubled his exertions, and, in a short time a large space was cleared.
Doña Luz surveyed with admiration this strange man, who had suddenly appeared among them in such a providential manner, and who, amidst the horrible danger that enveloped them, was as calm and self-possessed as if he had had the power to command the awful scourge which continued to advance upon them with giant strides.
The maiden could not take her eyes off him; in spite of herself, she felt attracted towards this unknown preserver, whose voice, gestures,—his whole person, in short, interested her.
When the grass and herbs had been pulled up with that feverish rapidity which men in fear of death display in all they do, the hunter smiled calmly.
"Now," he said, addressing the Mexicans, "the rest concerns me and my friend; leave us to act as we think proper; wrap yourselves carefully in damp blankets."
Everyone followed his directions.
The stranger cast a glance around him, and then after making a sign to his friend, walked straight towards the fire.
"I shall not quit you," the general said, earnestly.
"Come on, then," the stranger replied, laconically.
When they reached the extremity of the space where the grass had been pulled up, the hunter made a heap of plants and dry wood with his feet, and scattering a little gunpowder over it, he set fire to the mass.
"What are you doing?" the general exclaimed, in amazement.
"As you see, I make fire fight against fire," the hunter replied, quietly.
His companion had acted in the same manner in an opposite direction.
A curtain of flames arose rapidly around them, and, for some minutes, the camp was almost concealed beneath a vault of fire.
A quarter of an hour of terrible anxiety and intense expectation ensued.
By degrees the flames became less fierce, the air more pure; the smoke dispersed, the roarings of the conflagration diminished.
At length they were able to recognise each other in this horrible chaos.
A sigh of relief burst from every breast.
The camp was saved!
The conflagration, whose roaring became gradually more dull, conquered by the hunter, went to convey destruction in other directions.
Everyone rushed towards the stranger to thank him.
"You have saved the life of my niece," said the general warmly; "how shall I discharge my debt to you?"
"You owe me nothing, sir," the hunter replied, with noble simplicity; "in the prairie all men are brothers; I have only performed my duty by coming to your assistance."
As soon as the first moments of joy were past, and the camp had been put in a little order, everyone felt the necessity for repose after the terrible anxieties of the night.
The two strangers, who had constantly repulsed modestly, but firmly, the advances the general had made in the warmth of his gratitude, threw themselves carelessly on the baggage for a few hours' rest.
A little before dawn they arose.
"The earth must be cool by this time," said the hunter: "let us be gone before these people wake; perhaps they would not wish us to leave them so."
"Let us be gone!" the other replied laconically.
At the moment he was about to pass over the boundary of the camp, a hand was laid lightly upon the shoulder of the elder. He turned round, and Doña Luz was before him.
The two men stopped and bowed respectfully to the young lady.
"Are you going to leave us?" she asked in a soft and melodious voice.
"We must, señorita," the hunter replied.
"I understand," she said with a charming smile; "now that, thanks to you, we are saved, you have nothing more to do here,—is it not so?"
The two men bowed without replying.
"Grant me a favour," she said.
"Name it, señorita."
She took from her neck a little diamond cross she wore.
"Keep this, in remembrance of me."
The hunter hesitated.
"I beg you to do so," she murmured in an agitated voice.
"I accept it, señorita," the hunter said, as he placed the cross upon his breast close to his scapulary; "I shall have another talisman to add to that which my mother gave me."
"Thank you," the girl replied joyfully; "one word more?"
"Speak it, lady."
"What are your names?"
"My companion is called Belhumeur."
"But yourself?"
"Loyal Heart."
After bowing a second time, in sign of farewell, the two hunters departed at a quick pace, and soon disappeared in the darkness.
Doña Luz looked after them as long as she could perceive them, and then returned slowly and pensively towards her tent, repeating to herself in a low but earnest tone,—
"Loyal Heart! Oh! I shall remember that name."
The United States have inherited from England that system of continual invasion and usurpation which is one of the most salient points in the British character.
Scarcely was the independence of North America proclaimed, and peace concluded with the mother country, ere those very men who cried out so loudly against tyranny and oppression, who protested against the violation of the rights of nations, of which they said they were the victims, organized, with that implacable coolness which they owe to their origin, a hunt of the Red Indians. Not only did they do so over the whole extent of their territories, but dissatisfied with the possession of the vast regions which their restless population, spite of its activity, did not suffice to clear and render valuable, they wished to make themselves masters of the two oceans, by encircling on all sides the aboriginal tribes, whom they drove back incessantly, and whom, according to the prophetic words, filled with bitter displeasure, of an aged Indian chief, they will eventually drown in the Pacific, by means of treachery and perfidy.
In the United States, about which people are beginning to be disabused, but which prejudiced or ill-informed persons still persist in representing as the classic land of liberty, is found that odious anomaly of two races degraded and despoiled for the advantage of a third race, which arrogates to itself a right of life and death over them, and considers them as nothing more than beasts of burden.
These two races, so worthy of the interest of all enlightened minds, and of the true friends of the human species, are the black and red races.
It is true, that on the other hand, to prove what thorough philanthropists they are, the United States did, in the year 1795, sign a treaty of peace and friendship with the Barbary States, which gave them advantages incomparably greater than those offered by the Order of Malta, which was likewise desirous of treating with them—a treaty guaranteed by the regencies of Algiers and Tripoli.
In this treaty it is positively stated that the government of the United States is not founded, in any way, upon the Christian religion.
To those to whom this may appear strong, we will reply that it is logical, and that the Americans in the article of God acknowledge but one alone—the God Dollar! who, in all times, has been the only one adored by the pirates of every country.
Draw the conclusion from this who will.
The squatters, a race without hearth or home, without right or law, the refuse of all nations, and who are the shame and scum of the North-American population, are advancing incessantly towards the West, and by clearings upon clearings endeavour to drive the Indian tribes from their last places of refuge.
In rear of the squatters come five or six soldiers, a drummer, a trumpeter, and an officer of some kind bearing the banner of the Stars and Stripes.
These soldiers build a fort with some trunks of trees, plant the flag on the top of it, and proclaim that the frontiers of the Confederation extend to that point.
Then around the fort spring up a few cabins, and a bastard population is grouped—a heterogeneous compound of whites, blacks, reds, copper-coloured, &c., &c., and a city is founded, upon which is bestowed some sonorous name—Utica, Syracuse, Rome, or Carthage, for example, and a few years later, when this city possesses two or three stone houses, it becomes by right the capital of a new state which is not yet in existence.
Thus are things going on in this country!—it is very simple, as is evident.
A few days after the events we have related in our preceding chapter, a strange scene was passing in a possession built scarcely two years before, upon the banks of the great Canadian river, in a beautiful position at the foot of a verdant hill.
This possession consisted of about twenty cabins, grouped capriciously near each other, and protected by a little fort, armed with four small cannon which commanded the course of the river.
The village, though so young, had already, thanks to the prodigious American activity, acquired all the importance of a city. Two taverns overflowed with tipplers, and three temples of different sects served to gather together the faithful.
The inhabitants moved about here and there with the preoccupation of people who work seriously and look sharply after their affairs.
Numerous canoes ploughed the river, and carts loaded with merchandise passed about in all directions, grinding upon their creaking axles, and digging deep ruts.
Nevertheless, in spite of all this movement, or, perhaps, on account of it, it was easy to observe that a certain uneasiness prevailed in the village.
The inhabitants questioned each other, groups were formed upon the steps of doors, and several men, mounted upon powerful horses, rode rapidly away, as scouts, in all directions, after taking their orders from the captain commanding the fort, who, dressed in full uniform, with a telescope in his hand, and his arms behind his back, was walking backwards and forwards, with hasty steps, upon the glacis of the little fort.
By degrees, the canoes regained the shore, the carts were unteamed, the beasts of burden were collected in the home pastures, and the entire population assembled upon the square of the village.
The sun was sinking rapidly towards the horizon, night would soon be upon them, and the horsemen sent to the environs had all returned.
"You see," said the captain to the assembled inhabitants, "that we had nothing to fear, it was only a false alarm; you may return peaceably to your dwellings, no trace of Indians can be found for twenty miles round."
"Hum!" an old half-breed hunter, leaning on his gun, observed, "Indians are not long in travelling twenty miles!"
"That is possible, White Eyes," the commandant replied, "but be convinced that if I have acted as I have done, it has been simply with the view of reassuring the people; the Indians will not dare to avenge themselves."
"Indians always avenge themselves, captain," said the old hunter, sententiously.
"You have drunk too much whiskey, White Eyes; it has got into your head; you are dreaming, with your eyes open."
"God grant you may be right, captain! but I have passed all my life in the clearings, and know the manners of the redskins, while you have only been on the frontiers two years."
"That is quite as long as is necessary," the captain interrupted, peremptorily.
"Nevertheless, with your permission, Indians are men, and the Comanches, who were treacherously assassinated here, in contempt of the laws of nations, were warriors renowned in their tribe."
"White Eyes, you are of mixed breed, you lean a little too much to the red race," said the captain ironically.
"The red race," the hunter replied proudly, "are loyal; they do not assassinate for the pleasure of shedding blood, as you yourself did, four days ago, in killing those two warriors who were passing inoffensively in their canoe, under the pretence of trying a new gun which you had received from Acropolis."
"Well, well! that's enough! Spare me your comments, White Eyes, I am not disposed to receive observations from you."
The hunter bowed awkwardly, threw his gun upon his shoulder and retired grumbling.
"That's all one!—Blood that is shed cries for vengeance; the redskins are men, and will not leave the crime unpunished."
The captain retired into the fort, visibly annoyed by what the half-breed had said to him. Gradually the inhabitants dispersed, after wishing each other good night, and closed their dwellings with that carelessness peculiar to men accustomed to risk their lives every minute.
An hour later night had completely set in, thick darkness enveloped the village, and the inhabitants, fatigued with the rude labours of the day, were reposing in profound security.
The scouts sent out by the captain towards the decline of day had badly performed their duty, or else they were not accustomed to Indian cunning, otherwise they never could, by their reports, have placed the colonists in such deceitful confidence.
Scarcely a mile from the village, concealed amongst and confounded with the thick bushes and intertwining trees of a virgin forest, of which the nearest part had already fallen under the indefatigable axe of the clearers, two hundred warriors of the tribe of the Serpent, guided by several renowned chiefs, among whom was Eagle Head, who, although wounded, insisted upon joining the expedition, were waiting, with that Indian patience which nothing can foil, the propitious moment for taking a severe vengeance for the insult they had received.
Several hours passed thus, and the silence of night was not disturbed by any noise whatever.
The Indians, motionless as bronze statues, waited without displaying the slightest impatience.
Towards eleven o'clock the moon rose, lighting the landscape with its silvery beams.
At the same instant the distant howling of a dog was repeated twice.
Eagle Head then left the tree behind which he had been screened, and began to creep with extreme address and velocity, in the direction of the village.
On reaching the skirts of the forest he stopped; then, after casting round an investigating glance, he imitated the neighing of a horse with such perfection that two horses of the village immediately replied to him.
After waiting for a few seconds, the practised ear of the chief perceived an almost insensible noise among the leaves; the bellowing of an ox was heard a short distance away; then the chief arose and waited.
Two seconds later a man joined him.
This man was White Eyes, the old hunter.
A sinister smile curled the corners of his thin lips.
"What are the white men doing?" the chief asked.
"They are asleep," the half-breed answered.
"Will my brother give them up to me?"
"For a fair exchange."
"A chief has but one word. The pale woman and the grey head?"
"Are here."
"Shall they belong to me?"
"All the inhabitants of the village shall be placed in the hands of my brethren."
"Och! Has not the hunter come?"
"Not yet."
"He will come presently?"
"Probably he will."
"What does my brother say now?"
"Where is that which I demanded of the chief?" the hunter said.
"The skins, the guns, and the powder, are in the rear, guarded by my young men."
"I trust to you, chief," the hunter replied, "but if you deceive me——"
"An Indian has but one word."
"That is good! Whenever you please, then."
Ten minutes later the Indians were masters of the village, all the inhabitants of which, roused one after the other, were made prisoners without a struggle.
The fort was surrounded by the Comanches, who, after heaping up at the foot of the walls trunks of trees, carts, furniture, and all the farming implements of the colonists, only waited for a signal from their chief to commence the attack.
All at once a vague form stood out from the top of the fort, and the cry of the sparrowhawk echoed through the air.
The Indians set fire to the kind of pyre they had raised and rushed towards the palisades, uttering altogether that horrible and piercing war cry which is peculiar to them, and which, on the frontiers, is always the signal for a massacre.
The position of the Americans, was most critical.
The captain, surprised by the silent attack of the Comanches, had been suddenly awakened by the frightful war cry they uttered, as soon as they had set fire to the materials heaped up in front of the fort.
Springing out of bed, the brave officer, for a moment dazzled by the ruddy gleam of the flames, half-dressed himself, and, sabre in hand, rushed towards the side where the garrison reposed; they had already taken the alarm, and were hastening to their posts with that careless bravery which distinguishes the Yankees.
But what was to be done?
The garrison amounted, captain included, to twelve men.
How, with so numerically weak a force, could they resist the Indians, whose diabolical profiles they saw fantastically lit up in the sinister reflections of the conflagration?
The officer sighed deeply.
"We are lost!" he murmured.
In the incessant combats fought on the Indian frontiers, the laws of civilized warfare are completely unknown.
Thevae victisreigns in the full acceptation of the term.
Inveterate enemies, who fight one against another with all the refinements of barbarity, never ask or give quarter.
Every conflict, then, is a question of life and death.
Such is the custom.
The captain knew this well, therefore he did not indulge in the least allusion as to the fate that awaited him if he fell into the hands of the Comanches.
He had committed the fault of allowing himself to be surprised by the redskins, and he must undergo the consequence of his imprudence.
But the captain was a good and brave soldier; certain of not being able to retreat safe and sound from the wasp's nest into which he had fallen, he wished at least, to succumb with honour.
The soldiers had no need to be excited to do their duty; they knew as well as their captain that they had no chance of safety left.
The defenders of the fort, therefore, placed themselves resolutely behind the barricades, and began to fire upon the Indians with a precision that speedily caused them a heavy loss.
The first person the captain saw, on mounting the platform of the little fort, was the old hunter, White Eyes.
"Ah, ah!" murmured the officer to himself, "what is this fellow doing here?"
Drawing a pistol from his belt, he walked straight up to the half-breed, and, seizing him by the throat, he clapped the barrel of his pistol to his breast, saying, to him with that coolness which the Americans inherit from the English, and upon which they have improved—
"In what fashion did you introduce yourself into the fort, you old screech owl?"
"Why, by the gate, seemingly," the other replied, unmoved.
"You must be a sorcerer, then!"
"Perhaps I am."
"A truce with your jokes, mixed-blood, you have sold us to your brothers the redskins."
A sinister smile passed over the countenance of the half-breed; the captain perceived it.
"But your treachery shall not profit you, you miserable scoundrel!" he said, in a voice of thunder; "you shall be the first victim of it."
The hunter disengaged himself by a quick, unexpected movement; then, with a spring backwards, and clapping his gun to his shoulder, he said—
"We shall see," with a sneer.
These two men, placed face to face upon that narrow platform, lighted by the sinister reflection of the fire, the intensity of which increased every minute, would have had a terrific expression for the spectator who was able to contemplate them coolly.
Each of them personified in himself those two races confronted in the United States, whose struggle will only finish by the complete extinction of the one to the profit of the other.
At their feet the combat was taking the gigantic proportions of an epic.
The Indians rushed with rage, and uttering loud cries, against the intrenchments, where the Americans received them with musket shots or at the point of the bayonet.
But the fire continued to increase, the soldiers fell one after another; all promised soon to be over.
To the menace of White Eyes, the captain had replied by a smile of contempt.
Quick as lightning he discharged his pistol at the hunter; the latter let his gun drop, his right arm was broken.
The captain sprang upon him with a shout of joy.
The half breed was knocked down by this unexpected shock.
Then his enemy, placing his knee upon his breast, and looking at him for an instant, said, with a bitter laugh,—
"Well! was I mistaken?"
"No," the half-breed replied in a firm tone; "I am a fool—my life belongs to you—kill me!"
"Be satisfied I shall reserve you for an Indian death."
"You must be quick, then, if you wish to avenge yourself," the half-breed said, ironically, "for it will soon be too late."
"I have time enough. Why did you betray us, you miserable wretch?"
"Of what consequence is that to you?"
"I wish to know."
"Well then, be satisfied," the hunter said, after an instant of silence; "the white men, your brothers, were the murderers of all my family, and I wished to avenge them."
"But we had done nothing to you, had we?"
"Are you not white men? Kill me and put an end to all this. I can die joyfully, for numbers of victims will follow me to the tomb."
"Well, since it is so," said the captain, with a sinister smile, "I will send you to join your brothers; you see I am a loyal adversary."
Then pressing his knees strongly on the chest of the hunter, to prevent his escape from the punishment he reserved for him, he cried—
"In the Indian fashion!"
And taking his knife, he seized with his left hand the half-breed's thick and tangled head of hair, and with the greatest dexterity scalped him.
The hunter could not restrain a cry of frightful agony at this unexpected mutilation. The blood flowed in torrents from his bare skull, and inundated his face.
"Kill me! kill me!" he said, "this pain is horrible!"
"Do you find it so?" said the captain.
"Oh! kill me! kill me!"
"What!" said the captain, shrugging his shoulders, "do you take me for a butcher? No, I will restore you to your worthy friends."
He then took the hunter by the legs, and dragging him to the edge of the platform, pushed him with his foot.
The miserable creature instinctively endeavoured to hold himself up by seizing, with his left hand, the extremity of a post which projected outward.
For an instant he remained suspended in space.
He was hideous to behold; his denuded skull, his face, over which streams of black blood continued flowing, contracted by pain and terror; his whole body agitated by convulsive movements, inspired horror and disgust.
"Pity! pity!" he murmured.
The captain surveyed him with a bitter smile on his lips, and with his arms crossed upon his chest.
But the exhausted nerves of the hunter could sustain him no longer; his clenched fingers relaxed their hold of the post he had seized with the energy of despair.
"Hangman! be for ever accursed!" he cried, with an accent of frantic rage.
And he fell.
"A good journey to you!" said the captain, sneeringly.
An immense clamour arose from the gates of the fort.
The captain rushed to the assistance of his people.
The Comanches had gained possession of the barricades.
They rushed in a crowd into the interior of the fort, massacring and scalping the enemies whom they encountered in their passage.
Four American soldiers only were left standing; the others were dead.
The captain entrenched himself in the middle of the staircase which led to the platform.
"My friends," he said to his comrades, "die without regret, for I have killed the man who betrayed us."
The soldiers replied by a shout of joy to this novel consolation, and prepared to sell their lives dearly. But at this moment an incomprehensible thing took place.
The cries of the Indians ceased, as if by enchantment.
The attack was suspended.
"What are they about now?" the captain muttered; "What new devil's trick have these demons invented?"
Once master of all the approaches to the fort, Eagle Head ordered the fight to cease.
The colonists who were made prisoners in the village were brought, one after another, into his presence: there were twelve of them, and four were women.
When these twelve unfortunates stood trembling before him, Eagle Head commanded the women to be set apart.
Ordering the men to pass one by one before him, he looked at them attentively, and then made a sign to the warriors standing by his side.
The latter instantly seized the Americans, chopped off their hands at the wrists with their knives, and, after having scalped them, pushed them into the fort.
Seven colonists underwent this atrocious torture, and there remained but one.
He was an old man of lofty stature, thin, but still active; his hair, white as snow, fell on his shoulders; his black eyes flashed, but his features remained unmoved; he waited, apparently impassible, till Eagle Head should decide his fate, and send him to join the unfortunates who had preceded him.
But the chief continued to survey him attentively.
At length the features of the savage expanded, a smile played upon his lips, and he held out his hand to the old man,—
"Usted no conocer amigo?" (No you know friend?) he said to him in bad Spanish, the guttural accent of his race.
At these words the old man started, and looked earnestly at the Indian in his turn.
"Oh!" said he, with astonishment, "El Gallo!" (the Cock.)
"Wah!" replied the chief, with satisfaction, "I am a friend of the grey head; redskins have not two hearts: my father saved my life,—my father shall come to my hut."
"Thanks, chief! I accept your offer," said the old man, warmly pressing the hand the Indian held out to him.
And he hastily placed himself by a woman of middle age, with a noble countenance, whose features, though faded by grief, still preserved traces of great beauty.
"God be praised!" she said, with great emotion, when the old man rejoined her.
"God never abandons those who place their trust in Him," he replied.
During this time the redskins were preparing the last scenes of the terrible drama which we have made the reader witness.
When all the colonists were shut up in the fort, the fire was revived with all the materials the Indians could find; a barrier of flames for ever separated the unfortunate Americans from the world.
The fort soon became one immense funeral pyre, from which escaped cries of pain, mingled at intervals with the report of firearms.
The Comanches, motionless, watched at a distance the progress of the fire, and laughed like demons at the spectacle of their vengeance.
The flames, which had seized upon the whole building, mounted with fearful rapidity, throwing their light over the desert, like a dismal beacon.
On the top of the fort some individuals were seen rushing about in despair, while others, on their knees seemed to be imploring divine mercy.
Suddenly a horrible crackling was heard, a cry of extreme agony rose towards heaven, and the fort crumbled down into the burning pile which consumed it, throwing up millions of sparks.
All was over.
The Americans had perished!
The Comanches planted an enormous mast on the spot where the square had been. This mast, to which were nailed the hands of the colonists, was surmounted by a hatchet, the iron of which was stained with blood.
Then, after setting fire to the few cabins that were left standing, Eagle Head gave orders for departure.
The four women and the old man, the sole survivors of the population of this unfortunate settlement, followed the Comanches.
And a melancholy silence hovered over these smoking ruins, which had just been the theatre of so many sorrowful scenes.
It was about eight o'clock in the morning, a cheering autumn sun lit up the prairie splendidly.
Birds flew hither and thither, uttering strange cries, whilst others, concealed under the thickest of the foliage, poured forth melodious concerts. Now and then a deer raised its timid head above the tall grass, and then disappeared with a bound.
Two horsemen, clothed in the costume of wood rangers, mounted upon magnificent half wild horses, were following, at a brisk trot, the left bank of the great Canadian river, whilst several bloodhounds, with glossy black skins, and eyes and chests stained with red, ran and gambolled around them.
These horsemen were Loyal Heart and his friend Belhumeur.
Contrary to his usual deportment, Loyal Heart seemed affected by the most lively joy, his countenance beamed with cheerfulness, and he looked around him with complacency. Sometimes he would stop, and looked out ahead, appearing anxiously to seek in the horizon some object he could not yet discern. Then, with an expression of vexation, he resumed his journey, to repeat a hundred paces further on the same manoeuvre.
"Ah, parbleu!" said Belhumeur, laughing, "we shall get there in good time. Be quiet, do!"
"Eh,caramba!I know that well enough; but I long to be there! For me, the only hours of happiness that God grants me, are passed with her whom we are going to see—my mother, my beloved mother! who gave up everything for me, abandoned all without regret, without hesitation. Oh, what happiness it is to have a mother! to possess one heart which understands yours, which makes a complete abnegation of self to absorb itself in you; which lives in your existence, rejoices in your joys, sorrows in your sorrows; which divides your life into two parts, reserving to itself the heaviest and leaving you the lightest and the most easy! Oh, Belhumeur, to comprehend what that divine being is, composed of devotedness and love, and called a mother, it is necessary to have been, as I was, deprived of her for long years, and then suddenly to have found her again, more loving, more adorable than ever! How slowly we get on! Every moment of delay is a kiss of my mother's which time steals from me! Shall we never get there?"
"Well! here we are at the ford."
"I don't know why, but a secret fear has suddenly fallen upon my spirits, an undefinable presentiment makes me tremble in spite of myself."
"Oh, nonsense! Send such black thoughts to the winds; in a few minutes, we shall be with your mother!"
"That is true! And yet I don't know whether I am mistaken, but it seems to me as if the country does not wear its usual aspect; this silence which reigns around us, and this solitude which environs us, do not appear to be natural. We are close to the village, we ought already to hear the barking of the dogs, the crowing of the cocks, and the thousand noises that proclaim inhabited places."
"Well," said Belhumeur, with vague uneasiness, "I must confess that everything seems strangely silent around us."
The travellers came to a spot where the river makes a sharp curve; being deeply embanked, and skirted by immense blocks of rock and thick copsewood, it did not allow any extensive view.
The village towards which the travellers were directing their course, was scarcely a gunshot from the ford where they were preparing to cross the river, but it was completely invisible, owing to the peculiar nature of the country.
At the moment the horses placed their feet in the water, they made a sudden movement backwards, and the bloodhounds uttered one of those plaintive howlings peculiar to their race, which freeze the bravest man with terror.
"What does this mean?" Loyal Heart exclaimed, turning pale as death, and casting round a terrified glance.
"Look here!" replied Belhumeur, pointing with his finger to several dead bodies which the river was carrying away, and which glided along near the surface.
"Oh!" cried Loyal Heart, "something terrible has taken place here. My mother! my mother!"
"Do not alarm yourself so," said Belhumeur; "no doubt she is in safety."
Without listening to the consolations his friend poured out, though he did not believe in them himself Loyal Heart drove the spurs into his horse's flanks, and sprang into the water.
They soon gained the opposite bank, and there all was explained.
They had before them the most awful scene that can possibly be imagined.
The village and the fort were a heap of ruins.
A black, thick, sickening smoke ascended in long wreaths towards the heavens.
In the centre of what had been the village, arose a mast against which were nailed human fragments, for whichurubuswere contending with loud cries.
Here and there lay bodies half devoured by wild beasts.
No living being appeared.
Nothing remained intact—everything was either broken, displaced, or overthrown. It was evident, at the first glance, that the Indians had passed there, with their sanguinary rage and their inveterate hatred of the whites. Their steps were deeply imprinted in letters of fire and blood.
"Oh!" the hunter cried shuddering, "my presentiments were a warning from Heaven;—my mother! my mother!"
Loyal Heart fell upon the ground in utter despair; he concealed his face in his hands and wept.
The grief of this high-spirited man, endowed with a courage proof against all trials, and whom no danger could surprise, was like that of the lion, it had something terrific in it.
His sobs were like roarings, they rent his breast.
Belhumeur respected the grief of his friend—indeed what consolation could he offer him? It was better to allow his tears to flow, and give the first paroxysm of despair time to calm itself; certain that his unyielding nature could not long be cast down, and that a reaction would soon come, which would permit him to act.
Still, with that instinct innate to hunters, he began to look about on all sides, in the hope of finding some indication which might afterwards serve to direct their researches.
After wandering for a long time about the ruins, he was suddenly attracted towards a large bush at a little distance from him by barkings which he thought he recognised.
He advanced towards it precipitately; a bloodhound like their own jumped up joyfully upon him, and covered him with wild caresses.
"Oh, oh!" said the hunter, "what does this mean? Who has tied poor Trim up in this fashion?"
He cut the rope which fastened the animal, and, in doing so, perceived that a piece of carefully folded paper was tied to its neck.
He seized it, and running to Loyal Heart, exclaimed:
"Brother! brother! Hope! Hope!"
The hunter knew his brother was not a man to waste vulgar consolations upon him; he raised his tear-bathed face towards him.
As soon as it was free, the dog fled away with incredible velocity, baying with the dull, short yelps of a bloodhound following the scent.
Belhumeur, who had foreseen this flight, had hastened to tie his cravat round the animal's neck.
"No one knows what it may lead to," murmured the hunter, on seeing the dog disappear.
And after this philosophical reflection he went to join his friend.
"What is the matter?" Loyal Heart asked.
"Read!" Belhumeur quietly replied.
The hunter seized the paper, which he read eagerly. It contained only these few words:—
"We are prisoners of the redskins. Courage! Nothing of any significance has happened to your mother."
"God be praised!" said Loyal Heart with great emotion, kissing the paper, which he concealed in his breast. "My mother still lives! Oh, I shall find her again!"
"Pardieu! that you will," said Belhumeur in a tone of conviction.
A complete change, as if by enchantment, had taken place in the mind of the hunter; he drew himself up to his full height, his brow became expanded and clear.
"Let us commence our researches," he said; "perhaps one of the unfortunate inhabitants has escaped death, and we may learn from him what has taken place."
"That's well," said Belhumeur joyfully; "that's the way. Let us search."
The dogs were scratching with fury among the ruins of the fort.
"Let us commence there," said Loyal Heart.
Both set to work to clear away the rubbish. They worked with an ardour incomprehensible to themselves. At the end of twenty minutes they discovered a sort of trapdoor, and heard weak and inarticulate cries arise from beneath it.
"They are here," said Belhumeur.
"God grant we may be in time to save them."
It was not till after a length of time, and with infinite trouble, that they succeeded in raising the trap, and then a horrid spectacle presented itself.
In a cellar exhaling a fetid odour, a score of individuals were literally piled up one upon another.
The hunters could not repress a movement of terror, and drew back in spite of themselves; but they immediately—returned to the edge of the cellar, to endeavour, if there were yet time, to save some of those unhappy victims.
Of all these men, one alone showed signs of life; all the rest were dead.
They dragged him out, laid him gently on a heap of dry leaves, and gave him every assistance in their power.
The dogs licked the hands and face of the wounded man.
At the end of a few minutes the man made a slight movement, opened his eyes several times, and then breathed a profound sigh.
Belhumeur introduced between his clenched teeth the mouth of a leathern bottle filled with rum, and obliged him to swallow a few drops of the liquor.
"He is very bad," said the hunter.
"He is past recovery," Loyal Heart replied, shaking his head.
Nevertheless the wounded man revived a little.
"My God," said he, in a weak and broken voice, "I am dying! I feel I am dying!"
"Hope!" said Belhumeur, kindly.
A fugitive tinge passed across the pale cheeks of the wounded man, and a sad smile curled the corners of his lips.
"Why should I live?" he murmured. "The Indians have massacred all my companions, after having horribly mutilated them. Life would be too heavy a burden for me."
"If, before you die, you wish anything to be done that is in our power to do, speak, and by the word of hunters, we will do it."
The eyes of the dying man flashed faintly.
"Your gourd," he said to Belhumeur.
The latter gave it to him, and he drank greedily. His brow was covered with a moist perspiration, and a feverish redness inflamed his countenance, which assumed a frightful expression.
"Listen," said he, in a hoarse and broken voice. "I was commander here; the Indians, aided by a wretched half-breed, who sold us to them, surprised the village."
"The name of that man?" the hunter said, eagerly.
"He is dead—I killed him!" the captain replied, with an inexpressible accent of hatred and joy. "The Indians endeavoured to gain possession of the fort; the contest was terrible. We were twelve men against four hundred savages; what could we do? Fight to the death—that was what we resolved on doing. The Indians, finding the impossibility of taking us alive, cast the colonists of the village in among us, after cutting off their hands and scalping them, and then set fire to the fort."
The wounded man, whose voice grew weaker and weaker, and whose words were becoming unintelligible, swallowed a few more drops of the liquor, and then continued his recital, which was eagerly listened to by the hunters.
"A cave, which served as a cellar, extended under the ditches of the fort. When I knew that all means of safety had escaped, and that flight was impossible, I led my unfortunate companions into this cave, hoping that God would permit us to be thus saved. A few minutes after, the fort fell down over us! No one can imagine the tortures we have suffered in this infected hole, without air or light. The cries of the wounded—and we were all so, more or less—screaming for water, and the rattle of the dying, formed a terrible concert that no pen can describe. Our sufferings, already intolerable, were further increased by the want of air; a sort of furious madness took possession of us; we fought one against another; and, in there under a mass of burnt ruins, commenced a hideous combat, which could only terminate by the death of all engaged in it. How long did it last? I cannot tell. I was already sensible that the death which had carried off all my companions was about to take possession of me, when you came to retard it for a few minutes. God be praised! I shall not die without vengeance."
After these words, pronounced in a scarcely articulate voice, there was a funereal silence among these three men—a silence interrupted only by the dull rattle in the throat of the dying man, whose agony had begun.
All at once the captain made a strong effort; he raised himself up, and fixing his bloodshot eyes upon the hunters, said,—
"The savages who attacked me belong to the nation of the Comanches; their chief is named Eagle Head; swear to avenge me like loyal hunters."
"We swear to do so," the two men cried, in a firm tone.
"Thanks," the captain murmured, and falling back he remained motionless.
He was dead.
His distorted features and his open eyes still preserved the expression of hatred and despair which had animated him to the last.
The hunters surveyed him for an instant, and then, shaking off this painful impression, they set about the duty of paying the last honours to the remains of the unfortunate victims of Indian rage.
By the last rays of the setting sun, they completed the melancholy task which they had imposed upon themselves.
After a short rest, Loyal Heart arose, and saddling his horse, said,—
"Now, brother, let us place ourselves on the trail of Eagle Head."
"Come on," the hunter replied.
The two men cast around them a long and sad farewell glance, and whistling their dogs, they boldly entered the forest, in the depths of which the Comanches had disappeared.
At this moment the moon arose amidst an ocean of vapour, and profusely scattered her melancholy beams upon the ruins of the American village, in which solitude and death were doomed to reign for ever.
We will leave the hunters following the track of the redskins, and return to the general.
A few minutes after the two men had quitted the camp of the Mexicans, the general left his tent, and whilst casting an investigating look around him, and inhaling the fresh air of the morning, he began to walk about in a preoccupied manner.
The events of the night had produced a lively impression upon the old soldier.
For the first time, perhaps, since he had undertaken this expedition, he began to see it in its true light. He asked himself if he had really the right to associate with him in this life of continual perils and ambushes, a girl of the age of his niece, whose existence up to that time had been an uninterrupted series of mild and peaceful emotions; and who probably would not be able to accustom herself to the incessant dangers and agitations of a life in the prairies, which, in a short time, would break down the energies of the strongest minds.
His perplexity was great. He adored his niece; she was his only object of love, his only consolation. For her he would, without regret or hesitation, a thousand times sacrifice all he possessed; but, on the other side, the reasons which had obliged him to undertake this perilous journey were of such importance that he trembled, and felt a cold perspiration bedew his forehead, at the thought of renouncing it.
"What is to be done?" he said to himself. "What is to be done?"
Doña Luz, who was in her turn leaving her tent, perceived her uncle, whose reflective walk still continued, and, running towards him, threw her arms affectionately round his neck.
"Good day, uncle," she said, kissing him.
"Good day, my daughter," the general replied. He was accustomed to call her so. "Eh! eh! my child, you are very gay this morning."
And he returned with interest the caresses she had lavished upon him.
"Why should I not be gay, uncle? Thanks to God? we have just escaped a great peril; everything in nature seems to smile, the birds are singing upon every branch, the sun inundates us with warm rays; we should be ungrateful towards the Creator if we remained insensible to these manifestations of His goodness."
"Then the perils of last night have left no distressing impression upon your mind, my dear child?"
"None at all, uncle, except a deep sense of gratitude for the benefits God has favoured us with."
"That is well, my daughter," the general replied joyfully, "I am happy to hear you speak thus."
"All the better, if it please you, uncle."
"Then," the general continued, following up the idea of his preoccupation, "the life we are now leading is not fatiguing to you?"
"Oh, not at all; on the contrary, I find it very agreeable, and, above all, full of incidents," she said with a smile.
"Yes," the general continued, partaking her gaiety; "but," he added, becoming serious again, "I think we are too forgetful of our liberators."
"They are gone," Doña Luz replied.
"Gone?" the general said, with great surprise.
"Full an hour ago."
"How do you know that, my child?"
"Very simply, uncle, they bade me adieu before they left us."
"That is not right," the general murmured in a tone of vexation; "a service is as binding upon those who bestow it as upon those who receive it; they should not have left us thus without bidding me farewell, without telling us whether we should ever see them again, and leaving us even unacquainted with their names."
"I know them."
"You know them, my daughter?" the general said, with astonishment.
"Yes, uncle; before they went, they told me."
"And—what are they?" the general asked, eagerly.
"The younger is named Belhumeur."
"And the elder?"
"Loyal Heart."
"Oh! I must find these two men again," the general said, with an emotion he could not account for.
"Who knows," the young girl replied, thoughtfully, "perhaps in the very first danger that threatens us they will make their appearance as our benevolent genii."
"God grant we may not owe their return among us to a similar cause."
The captain came up to pay the compliments of the morning.
"Well, captain," said the general, with a smile, "have you recovered from the effects of their alarm?"
"Perfectly, general," the young man replied, "and are quite ready to proceed, whenever you please to give the order."
"After breakfast we will strike tents; have the goodness to give the necessary orders to the lancers, and send the Babbler to me."
The captain bowed and retired.
"On your part, niece," the general continued, addressing Doña Luz, "superintend the preparations for breakfast, if you please, whilst I talk to our guide."
The young lady tripped away, and the Babbler almost immediately entered.
His air was dull, and his manner more reserved than usual.
The general took no notice of this.
"You remember," he said, "that you yesterday manifested an intention of finding a spot where we might conveniently encamp for a few days?"
"Yes, general."
"You told me you were acquainted with a situation that would perfectly suit our purpose?"
"Yes, general."
"Are you prepared to conduct us thither?"
"When you please."
"What time will it require to gain this spot?"
"Two days."
"Very well. We will set out, then, immediately after breakfast."
The Babbler bowed without reply.
"By the way," the general said, with feigned indifference, "one of your men seems to be missing."
"Yes."
"What is become of him?"
"I do not know."
"How! you do not know?" said the general, with a scrutinizing glance.
"No: as soon as he saw the fire, terror seized him, and he escaped."
"Very well!"
"He is most probably the victim of his cowardice."
"What do you mean by that?"
"The fire, most likely, has devoured him."
"Poor devil!"
A sardonic smile curled the lips of the guide.
"Have you anything more to say to me, general?"
"No;—but stop."
"I attend your orders."
"Do you know the two hunters who rendered us such timely service?"
"We all know each other in the prairie."
"What are those men?"
"Hunters and trappers."
"That is not what I ask you."
"What then?"
"I mean as to their character."
"Oh!" said the guide, with an appearance of displeasure.
"Yes, their moral character."
"I don't know anything much about them."
"What are their names?"
"Belhumeur and Loyal Heart."
"And you know nothing of their lives?"
"Nothing."
"That will do—you may retire."
The guide bowed, and with tardy steps rejoined his companions, who were preparing for departure.
"Hum!" the general murmured, as he looked after him, "I must keep a watch upon that fellow; there is something sinister in his manner."
After this aside, the general entered his tent, where the doctor, the captain, and Doña Luz were waiting breakfast for him.
Half an hour later, at most, the tent was folded up again, the packages were placed upon the mules, and the caravan was pursuing its journey under the direction of the Babbler, who rode about twenty paces in advance of the troop.
The aspect of the prairie was much changed since the preceding evening.
The black, burnt earth, was covered in places with heaps of smoking ashes; here and there charred trees, still standing, displayed their saddening skeletons; the fire still roared at a distance, and clouds of coppery smoke obscured the horizon.
The horses advanced with precaution over this uneven ground, where they constantly stumbled over the bones of animals that had fallen victims to the terrible embraces of the flames.
A melancholy sadness, much increased by the sight of the prospect unfolded before them, had taken possession of the travellers; they journeyed on, close to each other, without speaking, buried in their own reflections.
The road the caravan was pursuing wound along a narrow ravine, the dried bed of some torrent, deeply enclosed between two hills.
The ground trodden by the horses was composed of round pebbles, which slipped from under their hoofs, and augmented the difficulties of the march, which was rendered still more toilsome by the burning rays of the sun, that fell directly down upon the travellers, leaving no chance of escaping them, for the country over which they were travelling had completely assumed the appearance of one of those vast deserts which are met with in the interior of Africa.
The day passed away thus, and excepting the fatigue which oppressed them, the monotony of the journey was not broken by any incident.
In the evening they encamped in a plain absolutely bare, but in the horizon they could perceive an appearance of verdure, which afforded them great consolation;—they were about, at last, to enter a zone spared by the conflagration.
The next morning, two hours before sunrise, the Babbler gave orders to prepare for departure.
The day proved more fatiguing than the last; the travellers were literally worn out when they encamped.
The Babbler had not deceived the general. The site was admirably chosen to repel an attack of the Indians. We need not describe it; the reader is already acquainted with it. It was the spot on which we met with the hunters, when they appeared on the scene for the first time.
The general, after casting around him the infallible glance of the experienced soldier, could not help manifesting his satisfaction.
"Bravo!" he said to the guide; "if we have had almost insurmountable difficulties to encounter in getting here, we could at least, if things should so fall out, sustain a siege on this spot."