"I do."
"Good!" the Chief continued, "Let my son look."
He then went up to the stake and fastened to it the feather and lock of hair Blue-fox had given him.
"This feather and this hair will remain here until the man to whom they belong returns to claim them," he said.
The Apache Chief answered in his turn—
"I swear on my totem to come and redeem them at the appointed time."
"Wah! My brother is free," Black-deer continued; "here is the feather of a Chief; it will serve him as a recognition if the warriors of my nation were to meet him. Still, my brother will remember that he is forbidden communicating in any way with the braves of his nation ambushed round the village."
"Blue-fox will remember it."
After uttering these few words without even exchanging a look with his son, who stood motionless by his side, the Chief took the feather Black-deer offered him, leaped on the horse which had brought the young man, and started at a gallop, not looking back once. When he had disappeared in the darkness, the Chiefs went up to the boy, bound him securely, and confined him in the Medicine Lodge under the guardianship of several warriors.
"Now," said Black-deer, "for the others."
And mounting his horse in his turn, he left the village.
The European traveller, accustomed to the paltry landscapes which man has carved out corresponding with his own stature and the conventional nature he has, as it were, contrived to create, can in no way figure to himself the grand and sublime aspect presented by the great American forests, where all seems to sleep, and the ever open eye of God alone broods over the world. The unknown rumours, without any apparent cause, which incessantly rise from earth to sky like the powerful breathing of sleeping nature, and mingle with the monotonous murmur of the streams, as they rustle over the pebbles of their bed; and at intervals, the mysterious breeze which passes over the tufted tops of the trees, slowly bending them with a gentle rustling of leaves and branches—all this leads the mind to reverie, and fills it with a religious respect for the sublime works of the Creator.
We fancy we have given a sufficiently detailed account of the village of the Antelope Comanches, to be able to dispense with further reference to it; we will merely add that it was built in an amphitheatrical shape, and descended with a gentle incline to the river. This position prevented the enemy surrounding the village, whose approaches were guarded from surprise by the trees having been felled for some distance.
Loyal Heart and his comrades advanced slowly, with their rifles on their thigh, attentively watching the neighbourhood, and ready, at the slightest suspicious movement in the tall grass, to execute a vigorous charge. All, however, remained quiet round them; at times they heard a coyote baying at the moon, or the noise of an owl concealed by the foliage; but that was all, and a leaden silence fell again on the savannah. At times they saw in the bluish rays of the moon indistinct forms appear on the banks of the river; but these wandering shadows were evidently wild beasts which had left their lurking places to come down and drink.
The march continued thus without encumbrance or alarm of any description, until the adventurers had reached the covert, when a dense gloom suddenly enveloped them, and did not allow them to distinguish objects ten yards ahead. Loyal Heart did not consider it prudent to advance further in a neighbourhood he did not know, and where he saw the risk at each step of falling into an ambuscade; consequently the little band halted. The horses were made to lie down on their side, their legs were fastened, and their nostrils drawn in with a rope, so that they could neither stir nor make a sound, and the adventurers, concealing themselves, waited while watching with the most profound attention.
From time to time they saw horsemen crossing a clearing, and all going in different directions; some passed close enough to touch them without perceiving the hunters, owing to the precautions the latter had taken, and then disappeared in the forest. Several hours passed thus, the hunters being quite unable to comprehend the delay, the reason for which the reader, however, knows; the moon had disappeared, and the darkness become denser. Loyal Heart, not knowing to what he should attribute Black-deer's lengthened absence, and fearing some unforeseen misfortune had burst on the village, was about to give the order for returning, when Tranquil, who, by crawling on his hands and knees, had reached the open plain where he remained for some time as scout, suddenly returned to his comrades.
"What is the matter?" Loyal Heart whispered in his ear.
"I cannot say," the hunter answered, "I do not understand it myself. About an hour back, an Indian suddenly sprung up by my side as if emerging from the ground, and leaping on a horse of whose presence I was equally ignorant, started at full speed in the direction of the village."
"That is strange," Loyal Heart muttered; "and you do not know who the Indian is?"
"Apache."
"Apache, impossible!"
"That is just the point that staggers me; how could an Apache venture to the village alone?"
"There is something up we do not know; and then the signals we heard?"
"This man answered them."
"What is to be done?"
"Find out."
"But in what way?"
"Why, hang it, by rejoining our friends."
Loyal Heart shook his head.
"No," he said, "we must employ some other method, for I promised Black-deer to help him in this expedition, and I will not break my word."
"It is evident that important events have occurred among the tribe."
"That is my opinion too, but you know the prudence of the Indians, so we will not despair yet; stay," he added, as he tapped his forehead, "I have an idea, we shall soon know what is taking place; leave me to act."
"Do you require our help?"
"Not positively; I shall not go out of sight, but if you see me in danger, come up."
"All right,"
Loyal heart took a long rope of plaited leather, which served him as a picquet cord, and laying down his rifle, which might have impeded him in the execution of the daring plan he had formed, lay down on the ground and crawled away like a serpent. The plain was covered with dead trees and enormous stones, while there were wide trenches at certain spots. This open ground, so singularly broken up, offered, therefore, all the facilities desirable for forming an ambuscade or a post of observation.
Loyal Heart stopped behind an enormous block of red granite, whose height enabled him to stand up, in shelter on all sides save in the direction of the forest. But he had no great risk to run from any enemies concealed in the chaparral, for the night was so dark that it would have been necessary to have followed the hunter's every movement, to discover the spot where he now was.
Loyal Heart was a Mexican; like all his countrymen, whose skill is proverbial in the management of certain weapons, from his youth he had been familiarized with the lasso, that terrible arm which renders the Mexican horsemen so formidable. The lasso or reata, for this weapon has two names, is a strip of plaited leather, rendered supple by means of grease. It is ordinarily forty-five to fifty feet in length, one of the ends terminating in a running knot, the other being fastened to an iron ring riveted in the saddle; the rider whirls it round his head, sets his horse at a gallop, and on arriving within thirty or five-and-thirty yards of the man or animal he is pursuing, he lets the lasso fly, so that the running knot may fall on the shoulders of his victim. At the same time that he lets the lasso go, the rider makes his horse suddenly turn in the opposite direction, and the enemy he has lassoed is, in spite of the most strenuous resistance, hurled down and dragged after him. Such is the lasso and the way in which it is employed on horseback.
Afoot, matters are effected much in the same fashion, save that, as the lassoer has no longer his horse to aid him, he is obliged to display great muscular strength, and is often dragged along for a considerable distance. In Mexico, where this weapon is in general use, people naturally study the means to neutralize its effects, the most efficacious being to cut the lasso. This is why all horsemen carry in their boot, within arm's length, a long and sharp knife; still, as the horseman is nearly always unexpectedly lassoed, he is strangled ere he has had time to draw his knife. Of one hundred riders lassoed thus in a combat or chase, seventy-five are inevitably killed, and the others only escape by a miracle, so much skill, strength, and coolness are needed to cut the fatal knot.
Loyal Heart had the simple idea of forming a running knot at the end of his picquet rope, and lassoing the first rider who passed within reach. On getting behind the rock he unrolled the long cord he had fastened round his body; then, after making the slip knot with all the care it demands, he coiled the lasso in his hand and waited. Chance seemed to favour the project of the bold hunter, for, within ten minutes at the most, he heard the gallop of a horse going at full speed. Loyal Heart listened attentively; the sound approached with great rapidity, and soon the black outline of a horseman stood out in the night. The direction followed by the rider compelled him to pass within a short distance of the block of granite behind which Loyal Heart was concealed. The latter spread out his legs to have a firmer holdfast, bent his body slightly forward, and whirled the lasso round his head. At the moment when the horseman came opposite to him, Loyal Heart let the lasso fly, and it fell with a whiz on the shoulders of the rider, who was roughly hurled to the ground ere he knew what was happening to him. His horse, which was at full speed, went on some distance further, but then perceiving that its rider had left it, it slackened its pace, and presently halted.
In the meanwhile Loyal Heart bounded like a tiger on the man he had so suddenly unsaddled. The latter had not uttered a cry, but remained motionless at the spot where he had been hurled. Loyal Heart at first fancied him dead, but it was not so; his first care was to free the wounded man from the running knot, drawn so tightly round his neck, in order to enable him to breathe; then, without taking the trouble to look at his victim, he pinioned him securely, threw him over his shoulders, and returned to the spot where his comrades were awaiting him.
The latter had seen, or at least heard, what had happened; and far from dreaming of the means employed by the young man, although they were well acquainted with it, they knew not to what they should attribute the rough way in which the rider had been hurled from his horse.
"Oh, oh," Tranquil said, "I fancy you have made a fine capture."
"I think so too," Loyal Heart answered, as he deposited his burden on the ground.
"How on earth did you manage to unsaddle him so cleverly?"
"Oh! In the simplest way possible. I lassoed him."
"By Jove!" the hunter exclaimed, "I suspected it. But let us see the nature of the game. These confounded Indians are difficult to tame when they take it into their heads not to unlock their teeth. This fellow will not speak, in all probability."
"Who knows? At any rate we can question him."
"Yes—but let us first make sure of his identity, for it would not be pleasant to have captured one of our friends."
"May the Lord forbid!" Loyal Heart said.
The hunters bent over the prisoner, who was apparently motionless, and indifferent to what was said around.
"Oh," the Canadian suddenly said, "whom have we here? On my soul, compadre, I believe it is an old acquaintance."
"You are right," Loyal Heart answered, "it is Blue-fox."
"Blue-fox?" the hunters exclaimed, in surprise.
The adventurers were not mistaken; the Indian horseman, so skilfully lassoed by Loyal Heart, was really the Apache Chief. The shock he had received though very rude, had not been sufficiently so to make him entirely lose his senses; with open eyes and disdainful countenance, but with not a word of complaint at the treatment he had suffered, he waited calmly till it should please his captors to decide his fate, not considering it consistent with his dignity to be the first to speak. After examining him attentively for a moment, Loyal Heart unfastened the bonds that held him, and fell back a step.
"My brother can rise," he said: "only old women remain thus stretched on the ground for an insignificant fall."
Blue-fox reached his feet at a bound.
"The Chief is no old woman," he said, "his heart is large; he laughs at the anger of his enemies, and despises the fury which is impotent to affect him."
"We are not your enemies, Chief, we feel no hatred or anger towards you; it is you, on the contrary, who are our enemy. Are you disposed to answer our questions?"
"I could refrain from doing so, were it my good pleasure."
"I do not think so," John Davis remarked, with a grin, "for we have wonderful secrets to untie the tongue of those we cross-question."
"Try them on me," the Indian observed, haughtily.
"We shall see," said the American.
"Stop!" said Loyal Heart. "There is in all this something extraordinary, which I wish to discover, so leave it to me."
"As you please," said John Davis.
The adventurers collected round the Indian, and waited anxiously.
"How is it," Loyal Heart presently went on, "that you, who were sent by the Apaches to treat for peace with the Comanches, were thus leaving the village in the middle of the night, not as a friend, but as a robber flying after the commission of a theft?"
The Chief smiled contemptuously, and shrugged his shoulders.
"Why should I tell you what has passed? It would be uselessly losing precious time; suffice it for you to know that I left the village with the general consent of the Chiefs, and if I was galloping, it was probably because I was in a hurry to reach the spot I am bound for."
"Hum!" said the hunter; "You will permit me to remark, Chief, that your answer is very vague, and anything but satisfactory."
"It is the only one, however, I am enabled to give you."
"And do you fancy we shall be satisfied with it?"
"You must."
"Perhaps so, but listen; we are awaiting Black-deer at every moment, and he shall decide your fate."
"As it pleases the Pale hunter. When the Comanche Chief arrives, my brother will see that the Apache Sachem has spoken truly, that his tongue is not forked, and that the words that from his lips are sincere."
"I hope so."
At this moment the signal agreed on between Black-deer and the hunters was heard: the hunter said at once to his prisoner.
"Here is the Chief."
"Good," the latter simply answered.
Five minutes later, the Sachem indeed reached the spot where the adventurers were assembled. His first glance fell on the Apache, standing upright with folded arms in the circle formed by the hunters.
"What is Blue-fox doing here?" he asked in surprise.
"The Chief can ask the Pale warriors, they will answer," said the Apache.
Black-deer turned to Loyal Heart; the latter, not waiting till he was addressed, related in the fullest detail what had occurred; how he had captured the Chief, and the conversation he had had with him: Black-deer seemed to reflect for a moment—
"Why did not my brother show the sign of recognition I gave him?" he asked.
"For what good, as my brother was coming?"
The Comanche frowned.
"My brother will be careful to remember that he has passed his word, and the mere appearance of treachery will cost his son's life."
A shudder passed over the Indian's body, although his features lost none of their marble-like rigidity.
"Blue-fox has sworn on his totem," he replied; "that oath is sacred, and he will keep it."
"Ocht! My brother is free, he can start without farther delay."
"I must find my horse again which has escaped."
"Does my brother take us for children, that he says such things to us?" Black-deer replied angrily. "The horse of an Indian Chief never abandons its master; let him whistle, and it will come up."
Blue-fox made no reply; his black eye shot forth a flash of fury, but that was all; he bent forward, seemed to be listening for a few moments, and then gave a shrill whistle, almost immediately after which there was a rustling in the branches, and the Chief's horse laid its fine and intelligent head on its master's shoulder. The latter patted the noble animal, leaped on its back, and digging in his spurs, started at full speed without taking further leave of the hunters, who were quite startled by this hurried departure. John Davis, by an instinctive movement swift as thought, raised his rifle, with the evident intention of saluting the fugitive with a bullet, but Black-deer suddenly clutched his arm.
"My brother must not fire," he said; "the sound would betray our presence."
"That is true," the American said, as he took down his gun. "It is unlucky, for I should have been very glad to get rid of that ill-favoured scoundrel."
"My brother will find him again," said the Indian with an accent impossible to describe.
"I hope so, and if it should happen, I assure you that no one will be able to prevent me killing that reptile."
"No one will try to do so, my brother may rest assured."
"Nothing less than that certainly was needed to console me for the magnificent opportunity you make me lose today, Chief."
The Indian laughed, and continued—
"I will explain to yon at another moment how it happens that this man is free to retire in peace, when we are threatened by an ambuscade formed by him. For the present, let us not lose precious time in idle talk, for all is ready. My warriors are at their post, only awaiting the signal to begin the contest; do my Pale brothers still intend to accompany us?"
"Certainly, Chief, we are here for that purpose, you can count upon us."
"Good, still I must warn my brothers that they will run a great risk."
"Nonsense," Loyal Heart replied, "it will be welcome, for are we not accustomed to danger?"
"Then to horse, and let us start, as we have to deceive the deceivers."
"But are you not afraid," Loyal Heart observed, "lest Blue-fox has warned his comrades that their tricks are discovered?"
"No, he cannot do so, he has sworn it."
The hunters did not insist further, they knew with what religious exactness Indians keep oaths they make to each other, and the good faith and loyalty they display in the accomplishment of this duty. The Chiefs answer consequently convinced them that they had nothing to apprehend from the Apache Sachem, and, in truth, he had gone off in a direction diametrically opposite to that where his companions were hidden.
The horses were immediately lifted on their legs, the cords removed, and the party set out. They followed a narrow path running between two ravines covered with thick grass. This path, after running for a mile and a half, debouched on a species of cross roads, where the adventurers had halted for an instant. This spot, called by the Indians the Elk Pass, had been selected by Black-deer as the gathering place of some forty picked warriors, who were to join the white men and act with them. This junction was effected as the Sachem arranged. The hunters had hardly debouched at the crossroads, ere the Comanches emerged from behind the thicket which had hitherto concealed them, and flocked up to Black-deer.
The band was formed in close column, and flankers went ahead, preceding it but a few yards, and attentively examining the thickets. For many an hour they marched on, nothing attracting their attention, when suddenly a shot was fired in the rear of the band. Almost simultaneously, and as if at a given signal, the fusillade broke out on both sides of the war path, and a shower of bullets and arrows hurtled upon the Comanches and white men. Several men fell, and there was a momentary confusion, inseparable from an unforeseen attack.
By assent of Black-deer, Loyal Heart assumed the supreme command. By his orders, the warriors broke up into platoons, and vigorously returned the fire, while retreating to the crossroads, where the enemy could not attack them without discovering themselves; but they had committed the imprudence of marching too fast—the crossroads were still a long way off, and the fire of the Apaches extended along the whole line. The bullets and arrows rained on the Comanches, whose ranks were beginning to be thinned.
Loyal Heart ordered the ranks to be broken, and the men to scatter, a manoeuvre frequently employed in Europe during the Vendean war, and which the Chouans unconsciously obtained from the Indians. The cavalry at once tried to leap the ravines and ditches that bordered the path behind which the Apaches were hidden; but were repulsed by the musketry and the long barbed arrows, which the Indians fired with extreme dexterity. The Comanches and Whites leaped off their horses, being certain of recovering them when wanted, and retreated, sheltering themselves behind trees, only giving way inch by inch, and keeping up a sustained fire with their enemies, who, feeling certain of victory, displayed in their attack a perseverance far from common among savage nations, with whom success nearly always depends on the first effort.
Loyal Heart, so soon as his men reached the clearing, made them form a circle, and they offered an imposing front to the enemy on all sides. Up to this moment, the Apaches had maintained silence, not a single war yell had been uttered, not a rustling of the leaves had been heard. Suddenly the firing ceased, and silence once again brooded over the desert. The hunters and Comanches looked at each other with a surprise mingled with terror. They had fallen into the trap their enemies had laid for them, while fancying they could spoil it.
There was a terrible moment of expectation, whose anxious expression no pen could depict. All at once the conches and chichikouès were heard sounding on the right and left, in the rear and front! At this signal, the Apaches rose on all sides, blowing their war whistles to excite their courage, and uttering fearful yells. The Comanches were surrounded, and nothing was left them but to die bravely at their posts! At this terrible sight, a shudder of fear involuntarily rose along those intrepid warriors, but it was almost instantaneously quelled, for they felt that their destruction was imminent and certain.
Loyal Heart and Black-deer, however, had lost none of their calmness; they hoped then, still, but what was it they expected?
Far from us the thought of making humanitarian theories with reference to a fight in the heart of the desert between two savage tribes, for it has too long been a principle among civilized nations that the Indians are ferocious brutes, possessed of nothing human but the face, and who should be destroyed, like all other noxious animals, by all possible means, even by those which are too repugnant to humanity for us to attempt for a single moment to defend.
Still, much might be said in favour of these unhappy peoples, who have been oppressed ever since humanity decreed that a man of genius should find once more their country which had so long been lost. It would be easy for us to prove, if we thought proper, that these Peruvians and Mexicans, treated so haughtily and barbarously by the wretched adventurers who plundered them, enjoyed, at the period of the conquest, a civilization far more advanced than that of which their oppressors boasted, who had only one advantage over them in the knowledge of firearms, and who marched cased in steel from head to foot against men clothed in cotton and armed with inoffensive arrows. Placed beyond the pale of society by the unintelligent fanaticism and the inextinguishable thirst for gold which devoured the conquerors, the wretched Indians succumbed not only to the repeated assaults of their implacable conquerors, but were also destined to remain constantly beneath the oppression of a calumny which made them a stupid and ferocious race.
The conquest of the New World was one of the most odious monstrosities of the middle ages, fertile though they were in atrocities. Millions of men, whose blood was poured out like water, were coldly killed; empires crumbled away for ever, entire populations disappeared from the globe, and left no trace of their passage but their whitened bones. America, which had been so populous, was almost suddenly converted into an immense desert, and the proscribed relics of this unfortunate race, driven back into barbarism, buried themselves in the most remote countries, where they resumed the nomadic life of the old days, continually carrying on war against the whites, and striving to requite them in detail all the evils they had received at their hands for centuries.
It is only for a few years past that public opinion has been stirred up as to the fate of the Indians; and various means have been attempted—not to civilize them, though that wish has been put forward, but to put a stop to reprisals; consequently they have been placed in horrible deserts; which they have been forbidden to leave. A sanitary cordon has been formed round them, and as this method was not found sufficiently expeditious to get rid of them, they have been gorged with spirits. We will declare here the happy results obtained from these Anglo-American measures: ere a century has elapsed, not a single native will be left on the territory of the Union. The philanthropy of these worthy northern republicans is a very fine thing, but Heaven save us from it!
In every battle there are two terrible moments for the commander who has undertaken the great responsibility of victory: the one, when he gives the signal of attack and hurls his columns at the enemy; the other, when organizing the resistance, he calmly awaits the hour when the decisive blow must be dealt in accordance with his previous combinations. Loyal Heart was as calm and quiet as if witnessing an ordinary charge; with flashing eye and haughty lip he recommended his warriors to save their powder and arrows, to keep together, and sustain the charge of the Apaches, without yielding an inch of ground. The Comanches uttered their war yell twice, and then a deadly silence brooded over the clearing.
"Good!" the hunter said, "you are great braves; I am proud of commanding such intrepid warriors. Your squaws will greet you with dances and shouts of joy on your return to the village, and proudly count the scalps you bring back at your girdle."
After this brief address the hunter returned to the centre of the circle, and the Whites waited with their finger on the trigger, the Redskins with levelled bows. In the meanwhile, the Apaches had quitted their ambuscade, had formed their ranks, and were marching in excellent order on the Comanches. They had also dismounted, for a hand-to-hand fight was about to begin between these irreconcilable enemies.
The night had entirely slipped away; by the first beams of day, which tinged the tops of the trees, the black and moving circle could be seen drawing closer and closer round the weak group formed by the Comanches and the adventurers. It was a singular thing in prairie fashions that the Apaches advanced slowly without firing, as if wishing to destroy their enemies at one blow. Tranquil and Loyal Heart shook hands while exchanging a calm smile.
"We have five minutes left," said the hunter; "we shall settle a goodly number before falling ourselves," the Canadian answered.
Loyal Heart stretched out his hand toward the north-west.
"All is not over yet," he said.
"Do you hope to get us out of this scrape?"
"I intend," the young man answered, still calm and smiling, "to destroy this collection of brigands to the last man."
"May Heaven grant it!" the Canadian said, with a doubtful shake of the head.
The Apaches were now but a few yards off, and all the rifles were levelled as if by common agreement.
"Listen!" Loyal Heart muttered in Tranquil's ear.
At the same moment distant yells were heard, and the enemy stopped with alarmed hesitation.
"What is it?" Tranquil asked.
"Our men," the young man answered laconically.
A sound of horses and firearms was heard in the enemy's rear.
"The Comanches! the Comanches!" the Apaches shouted.
The line that surrounded the little band was suddenly rent asunder, and two hundred Comanche horsemen were seen cutting down and crushing every foeman within reach. On perceiving their brothers the horsemen uttered a shout of joy, to which the others enthusiastically responded, for they had fancied themselves lost.
Loyal Heart had calculated justly, he had not been a second wrong; the warriors ambuscaded by Black-deer to effect a diversion and complete the victory arrived at the decisive moment. This was the secret of the young Chief's calmness, although in his heart he was devoured by anxiety, for so many things might delay the arrival of the detachment. The Apaches, thus taken by surprise, attempted for a few minutes a desperate resistance; but being surrounded and overwhelmed by numbers, they soon began flying in all directions. But Black-deer's measures had been taken with great prudence, and a thorough knowledge of the military tactics of the prairies: the Apaches were literally caught between two fires.
Nearly two-thirds of the Apache warriors, placed under the command of Blue-fox to attempt the daring stroke he had conceived, fell, and the rest had great difficulty in escaping. The victory was decisive, and for a long long time the Apaches would not dare to measure themselves again with their redoubtable enemies. Eight hundred horses and nearly five hundred scalps were the trophies of the battle, without counting some thirty wounded. The Comanches had only lost a dozen warriors, and their enemies had been unable to scalp them, which was regarded as a great glory. The horses were collected, the dead and wounded placed on litters, and when all the scalps had been lifted from the Apaches who had succumbed during the fight, their bodies were left to the wild beasts, and the Comanche warriors, intoxicated with joy and pride, remounted their horses and returned to the village.
The return of the Expeditionary corps was a perfect triumphant march. Black-deer, to do honour to Loyal Heart and his comrades, whose help had been so useful during the battle, insisted on their marching at the head of the column, and on Loyal Heart keeping by his side, as having shared the command with him. The sun rose at the moment when the Comanches emerged from the forest, the day promised to be magnificent, and the birds perched on all the branches loudly saluted the advent of day. A large crowd, composed of women and children, could be seen running from the village and hurrying to meet the warriors.
A large band of horsemen soon appeared, armed and painted for war, at their head marching the greatest braves and most respected Sachems of the tribe. This band, formed in good order, came up to the sound of conches, drums, chichikouès, and war whistles, mingled with shouts of joy from the crowd. On coming within a certain distance of each other, the two bands halted, while the crowd fell back to the right and left. Then, at a signal given by Black-deer and the Chief commanding the second detachment, a fearful yell burst forth like a clap of thunder, the horsemen dug in their spurs, and the two parties rushed upon one another and began a series of evolutions, of which the Arab fantasias can alone convey an idea.
When this performance had lasted some time, and a considerable quantity of gunpowder had been expended, the two Chiefs gave a signal, and the bands, up to the present commingled, separated, as if by enchantment, and formed up about a pistol shot from each other. There was then a perfect rest, but in a few minutes, at a signal from Blackbird, who commanded the band that had come out of the village, the leaders of the two detachments advanced towards each other. The salutations and congratulations then began; for, as we have already made the observation, the Indians are excessively strict in matters of etiquette.
Black-deer was obliged to narrate in the fullest detail, to the assembled Chiefs, how the action had been fought, the number of the enemy killed, how many had been scalped—in short, all that had occurred. Black-deer performed this duty with the utmost nobility and modesty, giving to Loyal Heart, who in vain protested, all the merit of the victory, and only allowing himself credit for having punctually carried out the orders the Pale warrior had given him. This modesty in a warrior so renowned as Black-deer greatly pleased the Comanche Chiefs, and obtained him the most sincere praise.
When all these preliminary ceremonies had been performed, the wives of the Chiefs advanced, each leading by the bridle a magnificent steed, destined to take the place of their husband's chargers wearied in action. Black-deer's young and charming squaw led two. After bowing with a gentle smile to her husband, and handing him the bridle of one of the horses, she turned gracefully to Loyal Heart, and offered him the bridle of the second horse:
"My brother Loyal Heart is a great brave," she said, in a voice as melodious as a bird's song; "he will permit his sister to offer him this courser, which is intended to take the place of the one he has tired in fighting to save his brothers the Antelope Comanches."
All the Indians applauded this gift, so gracefully offered; Black-deer, in spite of his assumed stoicism, could not refrain from evidencing the pleasure which his young wife's charming attention caused her. Loyal Heart smiled sweetly, dismounted, and walked up to her.
"My sister is fair and kind," he said, as he kissed her on the forehead; "I accept the present she makes me; my brother Black-deer is happy in possessing so charming a squaw to clean his arms and take care of his horses."
The young wife withdrew, all confused and delighted, among her companions; the Chiefs then mounted the fresh horses brought them. Each returned to the head of his detachment, and the two bands advanced slowly towards the village, escorted by the crowd which incessantly filled the air with joyous shouts that mingled with the musical instruments, whose savage harmony deafened all ears.
The Apache prisoners, on foot and disarmed, marched at the head of the column, guarded by fifty picked warriors. These untameable Indians, although perfectly aware of the fate that awaited them and the refined tortures to which they were destined, walked with head erect and haughty demeanour, as if, instead of being interested actors in the scene that was preparing, they were only indifferent spectators.
However, this stoicism peculiar to the Red race surprised nobody. The Comanche warriors disdained to insult the misfortunes of the intrepid warriors, whose courage fortune had betrayed; the women alone, more cruel than the men, especially those whose husbands were killed in the battle, and whose bodies were now brought along in litters, rushed like furies on the unhappy prisoners, whom they overwhelmed with insults, casting stones and filth, and even at times trying to dig their sharp nails into their flesh. This was carried to such a point that the guards of the prisoners were compelled to interfere to prevent them being torn asunder alive, and get them away, at least for a while, from the fury of these Megeras, who grew more and more excited, and in whom wrath had gradually attained the proportions of indescribable fury.
As for the prisoners, perfectly calm and impassive, they endured the blows and insults without complaint; nothing moved them, and they continued their march as peaceably as if they had been complete strangers to what was going on. The procession, compelled to clear its way through a crowd which was momentarily augmented, only advanced slowly.
The day was far spent when it reached the palisade that formed the village defences. At about ten paces from the palisade the two bands stopped; two men were standing motionless at the entrance of the village—they were the master of the great medicine and the hachesto: as if by enchantment, at the sight of these men a profound silence fell on the crowd so noisy a moment previously. The hachesto held in his hand the totem of the tribe, and when the warriors halted the sorcerer took a step forward.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" he asked, in a loud voice.
"We are," Black-deer answered, "the great braves of the powerful nation of the Antelope Comanches; we ask leave to enter the village with our prisoners and the horses we have captured, in order to perform the scalp dance round the stake of torture."
"Good," the sorcerer answered, "I recognise you; you are, indeed, the great braves of my nation, your hands are red with the blood of our enemies; but," he added, taking a gloomy glance around, "all our warriors are not present; what has become of those who are missing?"
There was a moment of mournful silence at this question.
"Answer," the sorcerer continued imperiously; "have you abandoned your brothers?"
"No," Black-deer said, "they are dead, it is true, but we have brought back their bodies with us, and their scalps are untouched."
"Good," said the sorcerer; "how many warriors have fallen?"
"Only ten."
"How did they die?"
"Like brave men, with their face turned to their foe."
"Good, the Wacondah has received them into the happy hunting grounds; have their squaws bewailed them?"
"They are doing so."
The Seer frowned.
"Brave men only weep with tears of blood," he said.
Black-deer fell back a step to make room for the widows, who stood motionless and gloomy behind him; they then advanced.
"We are ready," they said, "if our father will permit us, we will bewail our husbands as they deserve."
"Do so," he answered; "the Master of Life sees it, and he will smile on your grief."
Then, a strange scene occurred, which only Indian stoicism could endure without shuddering with horror; these women, arming themselves with knives, cut off several joints of their fingers without uttering a complaint; then, not contented with this sacrifice, they began scarring their faces, arms, and bosoms, so that the blood soon ran down their whole bodies, and they became horrible to look upon. The seer excited and encouraged them by his remarks to give their husbands this proof of their regret, and their exaltation soon attained such a pitch of delirium, that they would eventually have killed themselves, had not the sorcerer checked them. Their companions then approached, took away their weapons, and dragged them off. When they had finally left the spot, the sorcerer addressed the warriors standing motionless and attentive before him—
"The blood shed by the Apache warriors has been ransomed by the Comanche squaws," he said; "the ground is saturated with it; grief can now give way to joy, and my brothers enter their village with heads erect, for the Master of Life is satisfied."
Then taking from the hands of the hachesto the totem which the latter had been waving round his head, he stationed himself on the right hand of Black-deer, and entered the village with the warriors, amid the deafening shouts of the crowd, and to the sound of the instruments which had recommenced their infernal charivari.
The procession marched straight to the great square where the scalp dance was to take place. Loyal Heart and his comrades desired most eagerly to escape this ceremony; but it would have been a great insult to the Indians to do so, and they were compelled to follow the warriors, whether they liked it or not. On passing before the hunter's rancho, they noticed that all the windows were hermetically closed. Doña Jesuita, not at all desirous to witness the cruel sight, had shut herself up; but No Eusebio, whose nerves were probably harder, was standing in the doorway, carelessly smoking his cigarette, and watching the procession defile, which, by Loyal Heart's orders, he had preceded by a few moments, in order to reassure Doña Jesuita as to the result of the engagement.
When the whole tribe had assembled on the square, the scalp dance commenced. In our previous works we have had occasion to describe this ceremony, so we will say nothing of it here, except that, contrary to the other dances, it is performed by the squaws, and that on this occasion it was Black-deer's newly-married wife who led the dance, in her quality of squaw of the Chief who had commanded the expedition.
The Apache prisoners had been fastened to stakes erected expressly; and for some hours they were exposed to the ridicule, jests, and insults of their enemies without displaying the slightest emotion. When the dance at length ended, the time for torture arrived.
We will not dwell on the frightful sufferings inflicted on the wretched men whom their evil destiny had delivered into the hands of their implacable foes, for we have no desire to describe horrible scenes; we have even felt a repugnance to allude to them, but are bound to be faithful historians. As we have undertaken the task of making known the manners of races hitherto almost unknown, and which are destined so shortly to disappear, we will not fail in our duty, and in order that our readers may thoroughly understand what Indian torture is, we will describe the punishment inflicted on one of the prisoners, a renowned Apache Chief.
This Chief was a young man of five-and-twenty at the most, of lofty and well-proportioned stature; his features were noble, and his glance stern, and though severely wounded in the action, it was only when literally overwhelmed by numbers, that he had fallen upon the pile of his warriors who had died bravely at his side.
The Comanches, who are judges of courage, had admired his heroic conduct, and treated him with a certain degree of respect by the express orders of Black-deer, who entertained a hope of making him renounce his nation, and consent to be adopted by the Comanches, for whom so brave a warrior would have been an excellent acquisition. My readers must not feel surprised at this idea of the Comanche Sachem; these adoptions are frequent among the Redskins, and it often happens that a warrior who has fallen into the power of his enemies, ransoms his life, and escapes torture by marrying the widow of the warrior he has killed, under the promise of bringing up the children of the defunct, and regarding them as his own.
The Apache Chief was called Running-elk. Instead of fastening him to the stake like the warriors of less value made prisoners at the same time as himself, he had been left at liberty. He was leaning his shoulder against the stake with folded arms, and watched calmly and disdainfully all the incidents of the scalp dance. When it was ended, Black-deer, who had previously consulted with the other Chiefs of the tribe, and communicated his idea, which they warmly approved of, walked up to him. The prisoner let him come up without seeming to notice him.
"My brother, Running-elk, is a renowned Chief and great brave," he said to him in a gentle voice; "what is he thinking of at this moment?"
"I am thinking," the Apache answered, "that I shall soon be on the happy hunting grounds, where I shall hunt by the side of the Master of Life."
"My brother is still very young, his life only counts spring seasons, does he not regret losing it?"
"Why should I regret it? A little sooner, or a little later, but a man must die after all."
"Certainly; but dying thus at the stake of torture, when you have a long future of joy and happiness before you, is hard."
The Chief shook his head mournfully, and interrupted the speaker.
"My brother need say no more," he replied; "I see his thoughts, he is indulging in a hope which will not be realised; Running-elk will not be a renegade to his nation to become a Comanche; I could not live among you, for the blood of your warriors I have shed would constantly cry out against me. Could I marry all the squaws whom my tomahawk has rendered widows, or give you back the numerous scalps I have raised? No, I could not. When an Apache and Comanche meet on the war trail, one must kill the other. Cease then making me proposals which are an insult to my character and courage; fasten me to the stake of torture, and do not kill me at once, but gradually, by tortures, in the Indian way. Invent the most atrocious torture, and I defy you to hear from me a complaint, or even a sigh." And growing more excited as he spoke, he said, "You are children who do not know how to make a man of courage suffer, you need the death of a brave to learn how to die. Try it on me, I despise you; you are cowardly dogs, you can only snarl, and the mere sight of my eagle feather has ever sufficed to put you to flight."
On hearing these haughty words, the Comanches uttered a yell of anger, and prepared to rush on the prisoner, but Black-deer checked them.
"Running-elk," he said, "is not a real brave, he talks too much; he is a mocking-bird, who chatters because he is afraid."
The Sachem shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.
"This is the last word you shall hear from me," he said; "you are dogs!"
And biting his tongue off, he spat it into Black-deer's face. The latter gave a leap of fury, and his rage no longer knew bounds. Running-elk was immediately fastened to the stake; the women then tore out the nails from his fingers and toes, and drove into the wounds little spiles of wood dipped in inflammable matter, which they fired. The Indian remained calm; no contraction of the muscles disturbed the harmony of his features. The punishment endured three hours; but though his body was one huge wound, the Sachem remained perfectly stoical. Blackbird approached in his turn.
"Wait," he said.
Room was made for him; rushing on the Apache, he plucked out his eyes, which he threw away with disgust, and filled the two burning cavities with live coals. This last agony was horrible; a nervous tremor ran for a second over the wretch's body, but that was all. The Comanche, exasperated by this stoicism, which he could not refrain from admiring, seized him by his long hair, and scalped him; then he lashed his face with the blood-dripping scalp. The prisoner was horrible to look on, but still remained erect and unmoved.
Loyal Heart could no longer endure this hideous spectacle; he dashed through the people in front of him, and, putting a pistol to the prisoner's forehead, blew out his brains. The Comanches, furious at seeing their vengeance slip from them, gave a start, as if about to rush on the White man, who had dared to rob them of their prey: but the latter drew himself up haughtily, folded his arms on his chest, and looked them full in the face.
"Well," he said, in a firm voice.
This one word was enough: the wild beasts were muzzled; they fell back cursing, but did not attempt to make him account for what he had done. The hunter then made a sign to the adventurers to follow him, and they left the square, where for some hours longer the Indians wreaked their fury on the hapless prisoners.
THE MEETING.
We must now go back two months in our narrative, and leaving the deserts of Upper Arkansas for the banks of the Rio Trinidad, return to Cerro Pardo, in the vicinity of Galveston, on the very day of the battle so fatal to the Texans, in order to clear up certain points of our narrative, by telling the reader the fate of certain important personages, whom we have, perhaps, neglected too long.
We have said that the Jaguar, when he saw the battle irretrievably lost, rushed at full speed to the spot where he had left the cart, in which were Tranquil and Carmela; that, on reaching it, a frightful spectacle struck his sight; the cart, half broken, was lying on the ground, surrounded by the majority of his friends, who had bravely fallen in its defence; but it was empty, and the two persons to whose safety he attached such, importance had disappeared. The Jaguar, crushed by this horrible catastrophe, which he was so far from anticipating, after the precautions he had taken, fell senseless to the ground, uttering a loud cry of despair.
The young man remained unconscious for several hours; but his was a nature which a blow, however terrible it might be, could not destroy thus. At the moment when the sun was disappearing on the horizon in the ocean, and making way for night, the Jaguar opened his eyes. He looked round haggardly, not being yet able to comprehend the position in which he found himself, and the circumstances owing to which he had fallen in such a strange state of prostration. However strong a man may be, however great the energy with which nature has endowed him, when life has been suspended in him for several hours, the recollection of past facts completely fails him for a period, more or less long, and he requires some minutes to restore order in his ideas. This was what happened to the young man; he was alone, a sorrowful silence prevailed around him, gloom was gradually invading the landscape, and the objects by which he was surrounded became with each moment less distinct.
Still, the atmosphere was impregnated by a warm, sickly odour of carnage, and corpses covered the ground here and there. He saw the dark outline of the wild beasts, which darkness drew from their lairs, and which, guided by their sanguinary instinct, were already prowling about the battlefield, preparing to commence their horrible repast.
"Oh!" the young man suddenly exclaimed, leaping up, "I remember!"
We have said that the plain was deserted: nothing remained but corpses and wild beasts.
"What is to be done?" the Jaguar muttered;
"Whither shall I go? What has become of my brothers? In what direction have they fled? Where shall I find Carmela and Tranquil again?"
And the young man, crushed by the flood of desperate thoughts that rose from his heart to his brain, sank on a block of rock, and, paying no further attention to the wild beasts, whose roars increased at each second, and grew more menacing with the darkness, he buried his head in his hands, and violently pressing his temples as if to retain that reason which was ready to abandon him, he reflected.
Two hours passed thus—two hours, during which he was a prey to a desperation which was the more terrible, as it was silent. This man, who had set all his hopes on an idea, who had for several years fought, without truce or mercy, for the realization of his dream, whose life had been, so to speak, one long self-denial—at the moment when he was about at last to attain that object, pursued with such tenacity, had seen, by a sudden change of fortune, his projects annihilated for ever perhaps, in a few hours; he had lost everything, and found himself alone on a battlefield, seated amid corpses, and surrounded by wild beasts that watched him. For a moment he had thought of finishing with life, plunging his dagger into his heart, and not surviving the downfall of his hopes of love and ambition. But this cowardly thought did not endure longer than a flash of lightning; a sudden reaction took place in the young man's mind, and he rose again, stronger than before, for his soul, purified in the crucible of suffering, had resumed all its audacious energy.
"No," he said, casting a glance of defiance around, "I will not let myself be any longer crushed, God will not permit that a cause so sacred as that to which I have devoted myself should fail; it is a trial He has wished to impose on us, and I will endure it without complaint; though conquered today, tomorrow we will be victors. To work! Liberty is the daughter of Heaven: she is holy, and cannot die."
After uttering these words in a loud voice, with an accent of inspiration, as if desirous of giving those who had fallen a last and supreme consolation, the young man picked up his rifle, which had fallen by his side, and went off with the firm and assured step of a strong man, who has really faith in the cause he defends, and to whom obstacles, however great they may be, are incitements to persevere in the path he has traced. The Jaguar then crossed the battlefield, striding over the corpses, and putting to flight the wild beasts, which eagerly got out of his way.
The young man thus passed alone and in the darkness along the road he had traversed by the dazzling sunlight, in the midst of an enthusiastic army, which marched gaily into action, and believed itself sure of victory. His resolution did not break down for a moment, he no longer allowed the attacks of those sad thoughts which had so nearly crushed him: he had clutched his sorrow, struggled with it and conquered it; now, nothing more could overpower him.
On reaching the end of the plain where the battle had been fought, the Jaguar halted. The moon had risen, and its sickly rays sadly illumined the landscape, to which it imparted a sinister hue. The young man looked around him: in his utter ignorance of the road followed by the fugitives of his party, he hesitated about going along a path where he ran a risk of falling in with a party of Mexican scouts or plunderers, who must at this moment be scouring the plain in every direction, in pursuit of those Texans who had been so lucky as to escape from the battlefield.
It was a long and difficult journey to the Fort of the Point, and in all probability the victors, if they were not already masters of the fortress, would have invested it, so as to intercept all communications of the garrison with their friends outside, and force it to surrender. Nor could he dream of entering Galveston, for that would be delivering himself into the hands of his enemies. The Jaguar's perplexity was great; he remained thus for a long time hesitating as to what road he should follow. By a mechanical movement habitual enough to men when embarrassed, he looked vaguely around him, though not fixing his eyes more on one spot than another, when he gave a sudden start. He had seen, some distance off, a faint, almost imperceptible light gleaming among the trees. The young man tried in vain to determine the direction in which the light was; but at length, he felt certain that it came from the side where was the rancho, which, on the previous evening, had been the headquarters of the staff of the Texan army.
This rancho, situated on the sea shore, at a considerable distance from the battlefield, could not have been visited by the Mexicans, for their horses were too tired to carry them so far: the Jaguar therefore persuaded himself that the light he perceived was kindled by fugitives of his party; he believed it the more easily because he desired it, for night was advancing, and he had neither eaten nor drunk during the past day, in which he had been so actively occupied; he began to feel not only exhausted with fatigue, but his physical wants regaining the mastery over his moral apprehension, he felt a degree of hunger and thirst, that reminded him imperiously that he had been fasting for more than fourteen hours; hence he was anxious to find a place where it would be possible for him to rest and refresh himself.
It is only in romances that the heroes, more or less problematical, brought on the scene, cover great distances without suffering from any of the weaknesses incidental to poor humanity. Never stopping to eat or drink, they are always as fresh and well disposed as when they set out; but, unfortunately, in real life it is not, and men must, whether they like it or no, yield to the imperious claims inherent in their imperfect nature. The partisans and wood rangers, men in whom the physical instincts are extremely developed, whatever moral agony they may undergo, never forget the hours for their meals and rest. And the reason is very simple; as their life is one continual struggle to defend themselves against enemies of every description, their vigour must be equal to the obstacles they have to overcome.
The Jaguar, without further hesitation, marched resolutely in the direction of the light, which he continued to see gleaming among the trees like a beacon. The nearer he drew to the rancho, the firmer became his conviction that he had not deceived himself; after deep reflection it seemed to him impossible that the Mexicans could have pushed on so far; still, when he was but a short distance from the house, he judged it prudent to double his precautions, not to let himself be surprised, if, contrary to his expectations, he had to deal with an enemy.
On coming within five hundred paces of the rancho, he began to grow restless and have less confidence in the opinion he had formed. Several dead horses, two or three corpses lying pell-mell among pieces of weapons and broken carts, led to the evident supposition that a fight had taken place near the rancho. But with whom had the advantage remained? With the Mexicans or the Texans? Who were the persons at this moment in the house—were they friends or foes? These questions were very difficult to solve, and the Jaguar felt extremely embarrassed. Still he was not discouraged. The young man had too long carried on the profession of partisan and scout, not to be thoroughly acquainted with all the tricks of the wood ranger's difficult life. After reflecting for a few moments, his mind was made up.
Several times, while the rancho had served as headquarters of the Texan army, the Jaguar had gone there either to be present at councils of war, or to take the orders of the Commander-in-Chief. As the approach to the house was thus familiar to him, he resolved to slip up to a window, and assure himself with his own eyes of what was going on in the rancho. This enterprise was not so difficult as it appeared at the first glance; for we have already seen, in a previous chapter, another of our characters employing the same plan for a similar purpose. The young man was quick, sharp, and strong—three reasons for succeeding.
The light still gleamed, though no sound was heard from the interior, or troubled the deep silence of the night; the Jaguar, without quitting his rifle, which he supposed he might require at any moment, lay down on the ground, and crawling on his hands and knees, advanced towards the house, being careful to keep in the shadow thrown by the thick branches of the trees, in order not to reveal his presence, if, as it was probable, the inhabitants, whoever they might be, of the house had placed a sentry to watch over their safety. The reasoning of the young man, like all reasoning based on experience, was correct; he had scarce gone fifteen yards ere he saw, standing out from the white wall of the house, the shadow of a man leaning on a rifle, and motionless as a statue. This man was evidently a sentry placed there to watch the approaches to the rancho.
The situation was growing complicated for the Jaguar; the difficulties increased in such proportions, that they threatened soon to become insupportable; for in order to reach the window he wanted, he would be compelled to leave the shadow which had hitherto so fortunately protected him, and enter the white light cast by the moon with a profusion that did not at all please the young man. He mechanically raised his head, hoping, perhaps, that a cloud would pass over the face of the planet, and intercept its too brilliant light, were it but for a moment; but the sky was of a deep azure, without the smallest cloud, and studded with stars.
The Jaguar felt an enormous inclination to leap on the sentry and throttle him; but supposing it were a friend? It was a knotty point. The young man really did not know what to resolve on, and sought in vain how to get out of the scrape, when the sentry suddenly levelled his rifle in his direction, and aimed at him with the saucy remark:—
"Halloh! My friend, when you have crawled far enough like a snake, I suppose you will get up?"
At the sound of this voice, which he believed he recognised, the young man eagerly leapt to his feet.
"Caramba!" he answered with a laugh. "You are right, John Davis; I have had enough of that crawling."
"What!" the latter replied, in surprise; "Who are you that you know me so well?"
"A friend,Cuerpo de Cristo!So raise your rifle."
"A friend, a friend!" the American replied, without changing his position, "That is possible, and the sound of your voice is not unknown to me; but, no matter, whether friend or foe, tell me your name, for if you don't, I will keep you on the spot, as this is not the time for fishing."
"Viva Dios!" the young man said with a laugh, "That dear John is always prudent."
"I should hope so, but enough talking; your name, that I may know with whom I have to deal."
"What, do you not recognise the Jaguar?"
The American lowered his rifle, and the butt echoed on the ground.
"By Heaven!" he said joyously, "I suspected it was you, but did not dare believe it."
"Why not?" the young man asked as he approached.
"Hang it! Because I was assured that you were dead."
"I?"
"Yes, you."
"Who the deuce could have told you that nonsense?"
"It is not nonsense. Fray Antonio assured me that he leapt his horse over your body."
The Jaguar reflected for a moment.
"Well," he answered, "he told you the truth."
"What?" the American exclaimed as he gave a start of terror, "Are you dead?"
"Oh, oh! Make your mind easy," the young man answered with a laugh; "I am as good a living man as yourself."
"Are you quite sure of it?" the superstitious American said dubiously.
"Rayo de Dios!I am certain of it, though it is possible that Fray Antonio leaped his horse over my body, for I lay for several hours senseless on the battlefield."
"That is all right, then."
"Thanks; but what are you doing there?"
"As you see, I am on guard."
"Yes, but why are you so? Are there more of you inside?"
"There are about a dozen of us."
"All the better; and who are your comrades?"
The American looked at him for some moments fixedly, and then took his hand, which he squeezed.
"My friend," he said with emotion, "thank heaven, for it has shown you a great mercy this day."
"What do you mean?" the young man exclaimed, anxiously.
"I mean that those you confided to us are safe and sound, in spite of the dangers innumerable they incurred during the terrible day we have passed through."
"Can it be true?" he said, laying his hand on his chest, to check the beating of his heart.
"I assure you."
"Then, they are both here?"
"Yes."
"Oh! I must see them!" he exclaimed, as he prepared to rush into the rancho.
"Wait a moment."
"Why so?" he asked in alarm.
"For two reasons: the first being that before you enter, I must warn them of your arrival."
"That is true; go, my friend, I will await you here."
"I have not yet told you the second reason."
"What do I care?"
"More than you fancy; do you not wish me to tell you the name of the man who protected and eventually saved Doña Carmela?"
"I do not understand you, my friend. I entrusted the guardianship of Tranquil and Doña Carmela to you."
"You did so."
"Then, was it not you who saved them?"
The American shook his head in denial.
"No," he said, "it was not I, I could only have died with them."
"But who saved them, then? Whoever the man may be, I swear——"
"This man," John Davis interrupted him, "is one of your dearest and most devoted friends."
"His name? My friend, tell me his name."
"Colonel Melendez."
"Oh! I could have sworn it," the young man said impetuously; "why cannot I thank him?"
"You will soon see him."
"How so?"
"At this moment he is busy seeking a safe retreat for the old hunter and his daughter. For the present we shall remain at this rancho, from which he will be able to keep the Mexican soldiers off; and so soon as he has found another shelter, he will himself come to tell us."
"Always kind and devoted! I shall never be able to pay my debt to him."
"Who knows?" the American said philosophically; "luck will, perhaps, turn for us, and then it will be our turn to protect our protectors of today."
"You are right, my friend; may Heaven grant that it is so; but how did it all happen?"
"The Colonel, who seemed, from what he said to me, to have foreboded the danger that Doña Carmela ran, arrived just at the moment, when attacked on all sides at once, and too weak to resist the enemies who overwhelmed us, we were preparing, as we had promised, to die at our post; you can guess the rest. By threats and entreaties, he drove back the soldiers who were attacking us: then, not satisfied with having freed us from our enemies, he desired to secure us against all danger, and accompanied us thus far, recommending us to wait for him here, which I believe we shall be wise in doing."
"Certainly, acting otherwise would be ungrateful. Go, now, my friend, I will wait for you."
John Davis, understanding the anxiety from which the young man was suffering, did not let the invitation be repeated, but entered the rancho. The Jaguar remained alone, and was not sorry for it, for he wished to restore some order in his ideas. He felt himself inundated with immense joy at finding again, safe and sound, those whom he had believed dead, and whom he so bitterly lamented; he could scarce dare believe in such happiness, and fancied he must be dreaming, so impossible did all this appear to him. In less than ten minutes John Davis returned.
"Well?" the young man asked.
"Come," he answered laconically.
The American led him forward through a room in which were about a dozen Texans, among them being Fray Antonio, Lanzi, and Quoniam, who were sleeping on trusses of straw laid on the boards. He then pushed open a door and the two men entered a second room not quite so large, and lighted by a smoky candle, standing on a table, which diffused but a dim light. Tranquil was lying on a bed of furs piled on each other, while Doña Carmela was sitting on an equipal by his side. On seeing the young man, she rose quickly and ran to meet him.
"Oh!" she cried, as she offered him her hand; "Heaven be praised, you have come at last!" And bending down, she offered him her pale forehead, on which the Jaguar imprinted a respectful kiss, the only answer he could find, as he was suffering from such emotion. Tranquil rose with an effort on his couch, and held out his hand to the young man, who hurried up to him.
"Now, whatever may happen," he said timorously, "I am assured as to the fate of my poor child, since you are near me. We have been terribly alarmed, my friend."
"Alas!" he answered, "I have suffered more than you."
"But what is the matter?" Carmela exclaimed; "you turn pale and totter: are you wounded?"
"No," he answered feebly; "it is the happiness, the emotion, the joy of seeing you again. It is nothing more, so reassure yourself."
And while saying this, he fell back into a butaca half fainting. Carmela, suffering from the most lively alarm, hurriedly attended to him, but John Davis, knowing better than the maiden what the sick man wanted, seized his gourd, and made him drink a long draught of its contents. The emotion the Jaguar was suffering from, combined with the want of food and the fatigue that oppressed him, had caused him this momentary weakness. Tranquil was not deceived; so soon as he saw the young man return to consciousness, he ordered his daughter to get him food, and, as she did not seem to understand, he said with a laugh to the Jaguar:
"I fancy, my friend, that a good meal is the only remedy you need."
The young man tried to smile as he confessed that, in truth, he was obliged to confess, in spite of the bad opinion Doña Carmela would form of him, that he was literally dying of hunger. The maiden, reassured by this prosaic confession, immediately began getting him a supper of some sort, for provisions were scanty in the rancho, and it was not an easy matter to procure them. However, in a few minutes, Carmela returned with some maize tortillas and a little roast meat, a more than sufficient meal, to which the young man did the greatest honour after apologising to his charming hostess, who now completely reassured, had resumed her petulant character, and did not fail to tease the young Chief, who bravely endured it.
The rest of the night was passed in pleasant conversation by these three persons, who had believed they would never meet again, and now felt so delighted at being together once more. The sun had risen but an hour when the sentry suddenly challenged, and several horsemen stopped at the gate of the rancho.