Chapter Ninety Four.A rough Drag.Recovering himself, at length, the narrator proceeded:—“You may ask,señor, how I came to be witness of all these outrages. Was I not speared like my companions? Was I not, like them, killed upon the spot! I answer, no. I was still alive; and I might almost say uninjured. True I had been beaten and bruised in the struggle—for I had made an impotent effort at defending myself—but they had not killed me. I was for a time stunned, and senseless; but my senses returned before the fray was over; and I was a witness to the closing scene. It was then I saw the young girls in the act of being hurried off by their captors. It was then my heart was wrung, by the spectacle of Gabriella struggling in the arms of the chief. I was helpless to interfere. I was prostrate upon the earth, and held fast in the gripe of two brawny savages—one kneeling on each side of me. I expected them at every instant to put an end to my life. I awaited the final blow—either the stroke of a tomahawk or the thrust of a spear. I only wondered they were delaying my death. My wonders ceased, when I at length got my eyes on the face of the Apache chief—which up to that moment I had not seen. Then I recognised an old enemy, whom I had encountered on the plains; and I saw that the recognition was mutual. This explained why they had not finished me on the spot. I was spared only to suffer some more horrible mode of death.“It was not long till I was made acquainted with their intention. I saw the chief telegraph some order to the Indians who guarded me; which one of the latter hastened to execute. A lazo was looped around my ankle, and carried out. The other end of it was made fast to the tail of a horse; after which the Indian leaped upon the back of the animal. The other also mounted his own horse; and the whole troop appeared ready to gallop off. I could see that the savages were hastening their departure. There was but a small band of them; and, as the place was near a large town, they had reason to fear pursuit. Those of our party who had escaped would return at once to the town—where troops were stationed at the time. This explained to me the hurried movements the Indians were making.Carrambo, señor! I had not much opportunity to reflect on the chances of our being rescued by our friends. I saw what the savages intended for me; and that was sufficient to occupy all my thoughts. I was to be dragged at the tail of a horse!“Yes,cavallero! and the infernal design was instantly carried into execution; for in a moment after, the chief gave the signal to ride forward, and the whole troop went off at a gallop. He to whose croup I was attached was last in the line; and, consequently, I was trailed along without coming in contact with the others—the long lazo separating me from his horse by a distance of more than a dozen yards. Fortunately the ground over which they dragged me, was free from rocks or other inequalities—else I should have been torn to pieces. It chanced to be a smooth, grassy sward; and protected by my leathernjaquetaandcalzoneros, I was less injured than one might expect. It was my ankle that suffered most—for the loop soon slipped down below the joint, and nearly drew the bone out of its socket. That,señor, is how I came to be ‘un cojo’ as you see.”With a bitter smile the speaker pointed to his deformed foot, and then continued:—“Well—I suppose it would have killed me in the end: since the smooth turf did not extend far in the direction the savages were taking. But just then an idea came into my head, that gave me some hope of being able to relieve myself from my perilous situation. After the first hundred yards or so had been passed over, I saw that the savages had ceased to pay any attention to me. They were all too eager to hurry onward; besides, they were occupied with the women captives. It occurred to me, that if I could only get my foot free from the noose, I might part company with my captors, without any of them perceiving it. I remembered that I had a knife in my pocket; and, as my hands had been left free, I believed that I could get my fingers upon it, notwithstanding the rapid rate at which I was being jerked over the ground. I tried to get out my knife, and succeeded. As good luck would have it, just then, the path on which my captors were travelling, narrowed between two groves of timber—forming a kind of avenue or lane. Through this the troop had to pass in Indian file—my particular horseman still keeping in the rear. While going through, the gallop of the horses was interrupted—or at least their pace was greatly slackened—the rearmost of the band being thrown almost into a walk. This gave me the opportunity I desired; and, making an effort, I doubled my body over on itself—until I was able to reach the lazo beyond my foot. A single cut of my keen blade severed the thong; and I was detached on the instant. With anxious gaze I looked after the retreating horsemen: fearing they would see what I had done, gallop back, and spear me where I lay; but to my great joy I saw them ride on, till the last of them was out of sight. Yes,cavallero!” continued the narrator, “I saw the last horse, and the very tail to which I had been attached, pass out of sight. No doubt the horse knew what had happened, but not his rider. Not one of the whole troop appeared to have any suspicion that there was aught amiss—until I had crawled into the bushes, and got some distance from the path. Then I could hear them, as they galloped back, and rode whooping through the thicket in search of me.Carrambo, señor! I then felt more anxious than ever. Up to that time I had no thought of anything else than being rubbed out. I had been certain of it, from the first moment of the attack upon our party. Now, however, I had conceived a hope that I might escape, and return to the rescue of Gabriella. To be captured the second time would have been ten times more disagreeable than at first—when there was no opportunity either to hope for safety, or to reflect on the means of securing it. Now that a chance of life had offered itself, I was doubly fearful of losing it. I could make but little headway—so much was I disabled—but half hobbling, half crawling, I worked on through the thicket in the direction of the town. I could hear the savages beating the bushes behind; and every moment I expected to have them upon me. They would in time have traced, and overtaken me; but perhaps they cared not much for the capture. They had secured the booty they most prized; and, probably, reflected that, by wasting time in searching for me, they might risk losing it again. For this, or some other reason, they gave up the search; and I could tell by their voices, heard at a greater distance, that they were riding off. Without staying to assure myself, I limped on to the town—which I reached at length. Two of my friends, who had escaped at the first onslaught, had got there before me. The news of the sad disaster had spread like a prairie fire. The whole population was excited by the outrage; for the young girls made captives had many friends and relations in the place. So also the men who had been murdered. The troops were summoned to arms. It chanced to be a squadron of lancers—one of the best then in the service of the government—and these, along with about a hundred volunteers, all mounted, rode forth in pursuit of the savages. Notwithstanding that my wounded ankle pained me exceedingly, I was able to accompany them on horseback.Americano! I fear my narrative may be wearying you; and therefore I shall not enter into the particulars of the pursuit. Sufficient to say, that we succeeded in overtaking the ravishers. It was near midnight when we came up with them. We found them in their camp, with huge fires blazing all over the ground. We approached within pistol range before any alarm was given. They had been carousing onmezcal, and were keeping no guard. The bright blaze showed us how they had been occupied. The women sat here and there, many of them lying prostrate upon the earth. Their torn garments and dishevelled air betokened that a sad catastrophe had befallen them! We could bear the sight no longer. With hearts full of vengeance, both soldiers and citizens rushed upon the base despoilers; and the work of retribution began. Gabriella had been the first to become aware of our advance; and, springing to her feet, had bounded beyond the reach of her captors, and was running outward to meet us.Ay de mi! it was the last race of her life. An Indian arrow shot after was too quick for her; and, pierced through and through, she fell dying into my arms.Pobrecita! She kissed me with her parting breath, and then expired. Ah!señor, that was a kiss of death!” A long deep-drawn sigh, and the drooping attitude into which the speaker had fallen, told me that he had ended his narrative. Out of respect to the sacredness of his sorrow, I forbore questioning him farther at the time. It was only afterwards that I learnt from him some additional particulars: how most of the savages were slain upon the spot, and the captive girls rescued; but, although escaping with lifer they had all been the victims of barbarian lust, that brought more than one of them to an early grave! A wild tale it may appear; and, although we may term it aromance of New Mexico, its counterpart is not the less an oft-recurringrealityin that unhappy land.
Recovering himself, at length, the narrator proceeded:—
“You may ask,señor, how I came to be witness of all these outrages. Was I not speared like my companions? Was I not, like them, killed upon the spot! I answer, no. I was still alive; and I might almost say uninjured. True I had been beaten and bruised in the struggle—for I had made an impotent effort at defending myself—but they had not killed me. I was for a time stunned, and senseless; but my senses returned before the fray was over; and I was a witness to the closing scene. It was then I saw the young girls in the act of being hurried off by their captors. It was then my heart was wrung, by the spectacle of Gabriella struggling in the arms of the chief. I was helpless to interfere. I was prostrate upon the earth, and held fast in the gripe of two brawny savages—one kneeling on each side of me. I expected them at every instant to put an end to my life. I awaited the final blow—either the stroke of a tomahawk or the thrust of a spear. I only wondered they were delaying my death. My wonders ceased, when I at length got my eyes on the face of the Apache chief—which up to that moment I had not seen. Then I recognised an old enemy, whom I had encountered on the plains; and I saw that the recognition was mutual. This explained why they had not finished me on the spot. I was spared only to suffer some more horrible mode of death.
“It was not long till I was made acquainted with their intention. I saw the chief telegraph some order to the Indians who guarded me; which one of the latter hastened to execute. A lazo was looped around my ankle, and carried out. The other end of it was made fast to the tail of a horse; after which the Indian leaped upon the back of the animal. The other also mounted his own horse; and the whole troop appeared ready to gallop off. I could see that the savages were hastening their departure. There was but a small band of them; and, as the place was near a large town, they had reason to fear pursuit. Those of our party who had escaped would return at once to the town—where troops were stationed at the time. This explained to me the hurried movements the Indians were making.Carrambo, señor! I had not much opportunity to reflect on the chances of our being rescued by our friends. I saw what the savages intended for me; and that was sufficient to occupy all my thoughts. I was to be dragged at the tail of a horse!
“Yes,cavallero! and the infernal design was instantly carried into execution; for in a moment after, the chief gave the signal to ride forward, and the whole troop went off at a gallop. He to whose croup I was attached was last in the line; and, consequently, I was trailed along without coming in contact with the others—the long lazo separating me from his horse by a distance of more than a dozen yards. Fortunately the ground over which they dragged me, was free from rocks or other inequalities—else I should have been torn to pieces. It chanced to be a smooth, grassy sward; and protected by my leathernjaquetaandcalzoneros, I was less injured than one might expect. It was my ankle that suffered most—for the loop soon slipped down below the joint, and nearly drew the bone out of its socket. That,señor, is how I came to be ‘un cojo’ as you see.”
With a bitter smile the speaker pointed to his deformed foot, and then continued:—“Well—I suppose it would have killed me in the end: since the smooth turf did not extend far in the direction the savages were taking. But just then an idea came into my head, that gave me some hope of being able to relieve myself from my perilous situation. After the first hundred yards or so had been passed over, I saw that the savages had ceased to pay any attention to me. They were all too eager to hurry onward; besides, they were occupied with the women captives. It occurred to me, that if I could only get my foot free from the noose, I might part company with my captors, without any of them perceiving it. I remembered that I had a knife in my pocket; and, as my hands had been left free, I believed that I could get my fingers upon it, notwithstanding the rapid rate at which I was being jerked over the ground. I tried to get out my knife, and succeeded. As good luck would have it, just then, the path on which my captors were travelling, narrowed between two groves of timber—forming a kind of avenue or lane. Through this the troop had to pass in Indian file—my particular horseman still keeping in the rear. While going through, the gallop of the horses was interrupted—or at least their pace was greatly slackened—the rearmost of the band being thrown almost into a walk. This gave me the opportunity I desired; and, making an effort, I doubled my body over on itself—until I was able to reach the lazo beyond my foot. A single cut of my keen blade severed the thong; and I was detached on the instant. With anxious gaze I looked after the retreating horsemen: fearing they would see what I had done, gallop back, and spear me where I lay; but to my great joy I saw them ride on, till the last of them was out of sight. Yes,cavallero!” continued the narrator, “I saw the last horse, and the very tail to which I had been attached, pass out of sight. No doubt the horse knew what had happened, but not his rider. Not one of the whole troop appeared to have any suspicion that there was aught amiss—until I had crawled into the bushes, and got some distance from the path. Then I could hear them, as they galloped back, and rode whooping through the thicket in search of me.Carrambo, señor! I then felt more anxious than ever. Up to that time I had no thought of anything else than being rubbed out. I had been certain of it, from the first moment of the attack upon our party. Now, however, I had conceived a hope that I might escape, and return to the rescue of Gabriella. To be captured the second time would have been ten times more disagreeable than at first—when there was no opportunity either to hope for safety, or to reflect on the means of securing it. Now that a chance of life had offered itself, I was doubly fearful of losing it. I could make but little headway—so much was I disabled—but half hobbling, half crawling, I worked on through the thicket in the direction of the town. I could hear the savages beating the bushes behind; and every moment I expected to have them upon me. They would in time have traced, and overtaken me; but perhaps they cared not much for the capture. They had secured the booty they most prized; and, probably, reflected that, by wasting time in searching for me, they might risk losing it again. For this, or some other reason, they gave up the search; and I could tell by their voices, heard at a greater distance, that they were riding off. Without staying to assure myself, I limped on to the town—which I reached at length. Two of my friends, who had escaped at the first onslaught, had got there before me. The news of the sad disaster had spread like a prairie fire. The whole population was excited by the outrage; for the young girls made captives had many friends and relations in the place. So also the men who had been murdered. The troops were summoned to arms. It chanced to be a squadron of lancers—one of the best then in the service of the government—and these, along with about a hundred volunteers, all mounted, rode forth in pursuit of the savages. Notwithstanding that my wounded ankle pained me exceedingly, I was able to accompany them on horseback.Americano! I fear my narrative may be wearying you; and therefore I shall not enter into the particulars of the pursuit. Sufficient to say, that we succeeded in overtaking the ravishers. It was near midnight when we came up with them. We found them in their camp, with huge fires blazing all over the ground. We approached within pistol range before any alarm was given. They had been carousing onmezcal, and were keeping no guard. The bright blaze showed us how they had been occupied. The women sat here and there, many of them lying prostrate upon the earth. Their torn garments and dishevelled air betokened that a sad catastrophe had befallen them! We could bear the sight no longer. With hearts full of vengeance, both soldiers and citizens rushed upon the base despoilers; and the work of retribution began. Gabriella had been the first to become aware of our advance; and, springing to her feet, had bounded beyond the reach of her captors, and was running outward to meet us.Ay de mi! it was the last race of her life. An Indian arrow shot after was too quick for her; and, pierced through and through, she fell dying into my arms.Pobrecita! She kissed me with her parting breath, and then expired. Ah!señor, that was a kiss of death!” A long deep-drawn sigh, and the drooping attitude into which the speaker had fallen, told me that he had ended his narrative. Out of respect to the sacredness of his sorrow, I forbore questioning him farther at the time. It was only afterwards that I learnt from him some additional particulars: how most of the savages were slain upon the spot, and the captive girls rescued; but, although escaping with lifer they had all been the victims of barbarian lust, that brought more than one of them to an early grave! A wild tale it may appear; and, although we may term it aromance of New Mexico, its counterpart is not the less an oft-recurringrealityin that unhappy land.
Chapter Ninety Five.Assuming the Disguise.Our fire began to burn low, before the lovers returned into its light. During their moonlit ramble, no doubt, many sweet memories were renewed. No wonder they should wish to prolong it. But all of us required a certain measure of rest; and it was time to make the necessary arrangements for passing the night. Although we had given up all apprehension on the score of the Arapahoes; yet that was no reason why we should not observe a proper prudence, and keep prepared for any emergency that might arise. In that wild neutral road, trodden by many tribes, an enemy may spring up at any moment, or come from any side. It was agreed between us that one should keep watch, while the others slept—each taking histourof guard throughout the night. Marian was of course excepted from this “detail,” and, after bidding us all good-night, the huntress-maiden retired to her tent—at the entrance of which the ever-faithful and ever-watchful Wolf placed himself. There did the great dog stretch his body—a sentinelcouchant—with such grim Cerberus-like resolution, that even Wingrove might not have dared to cross the threshold of that sacred precinct? As yet we had not assumed our Indian disguises. The opening scene of the travestie was reserved for the morning; and, after arranging the hours of our respective watches—the trapper taking the first and longest—the rest of us crept under the covering of the buffalo lodge, and sought that repose necessary to recruit us for coming events.At earliest dawn, and long before the sun had gilded the snowy summits of the Spanish peaks, we were all afoot. A breakfast—similar in materials to our supper of the preceding night was hastily prepared, and still more hastily eaten. After that we proceeded to equip ourselves for the masquerade. Peg-leg acted as principalcostumier; and well understood he therôlehe was called upon to perform. Perfectly acquainted with the Utah costume—both that used for war and the chase—there was no fear about the correctness of his heraldry being called in question. He knew every quartering: of the Utah escutcheon, with a minuteness of detail that would have done credit to a King-at-arms.For himself he needed no disguise. As a trapper of Taos, he might also be an associate of Utah hunters; and personally unknown to the Mormons, they would have no other thoughts about him—further than that their friend Wa-ka-ra had sent him to guide them across the deserts of the Colorado. At the Mormon camp, therefore, he could present himself in his Mexican costume, without the Saints having the slightest suspicion as to his true character. This left him free to lend his services to the rest of us, and assist in our heraldic emblazonment. His first essay was upon myself. My features being sufficiently pronounced, rendered it all the more easy to make an Indian of me; and a uniform coat of vermilion over my neck, face, and hands, transformed me into a somewhat formidable-looking warrior. A buckskin hunting tunic, leggings and mocassins concealed the remainder of my skin; while some locks of long hair extracted from the mane and tail of my Arab, and craftily united to my own dark tresses, with the plumed bonnet and drooping crest overall, completed a costume that would have done me credit at a Parisianbal masqué.With equal facility was accomplished the metamorphosis of the young backwoodsman, but not so easily that of Sure-shot. Thenez retroussé, thin yellow hair, and green-grey eyes appeared to be insurmountable obstacles to the Indianising of the ex-rifleman. Peg-leg, however, proved an artist of skill. Thechevelureof Sure-shot, well saturated with charcoal paste, assumed a different hue. A black circle around each eye neutralised the tint of both iris and pupil. To his face was given a ground-coat of red ochre; while some half-dozen dark stripes, painted longitudinally over it, and running parallel to the nose, extinguished the snub—transforming the Yankee into as good an Indian as any upon the ground!Marian was her own “dresser;” and while we were engaged outside, was making her toilet within the tent. Her costume would require but little alteration: it was Indian already. Her face alone needed masking—and how was that to be done? To speak the truth, I was apprehensive upon the score of her disguise. I could not help reflecting on the fearful fate that awaited her, should the counterfeit be detected, and the girl identified. All along, I had felt uneasy upon this point; and had been endeavouring to devise some scheme by which to avoid the imprudence of her presenting herself in the Mormon camp. But the thought of Lilian—the perilous situation in which she was placed—perhaps more than all, the selfishness of my own love, had hindered me from thinking of any definite alternative.When I saw the huntress-maiden issue forth from her tent—her face empurpled with the juice of theallegriaberries—her cheeks exhibiting, each a circle of red spots, with a line of similar markings extended across her forehead—I no longer felt apprehension for the result. Though the hideous tattooing could not hide the charms of her speaking countenance, it had so changed its expression, that even Wingrove himself would not have recognised her! More like was it to baffle the scrutiny of father and false husband.In due time we were all dressed for the drama; and, after making acacheof our cast-off garments, we struck tents, and moved forward to the performance. The faithful Wolf accompanied us. It was against my wish, and contrary to the counsel of our guide; but Marian would not part with a companion that more than once had protected her from cruel enemies. The dog had been disguised, as the rest of us. Shorn of his shaggy coat, with his tail trimmed smooth as that of a greyhound—his skin, moreover, stained Indian fashion—there seemed but slight danger that the animal could be recognised.
Our fire began to burn low, before the lovers returned into its light. During their moonlit ramble, no doubt, many sweet memories were renewed. No wonder they should wish to prolong it. But all of us required a certain measure of rest; and it was time to make the necessary arrangements for passing the night. Although we had given up all apprehension on the score of the Arapahoes; yet that was no reason why we should not observe a proper prudence, and keep prepared for any emergency that might arise. In that wild neutral road, trodden by many tribes, an enemy may spring up at any moment, or come from any side. It was agreed between us that one should keep watch, while the others slept—each taking histourof guard throughout the night. Marian was of course excepted from this “detail,” and, after bidding us all good-night, the huntress-maiden retired to her tent—at the entrance of which the ever-faithful and ever-watchful Wolf placed himself. There did the great dog stretch his body—a sentinelcouchant—with such grim Cerberus-like resolution, that even Wingrove might not have dared to cross the threshold of that sacred precinct? As yet we had not assumed our Indian disguises. The opening scene of the travestie was reserved for the morning; and, after arranging the hours of our respective watches—the trapper taking the first and longest—the rest of us crept under the covering of the buffalo lodge, and sought that repose necessary to recruit us for coming events.
At earliest dawn, and long before the sun had gilded the snowy summits of the Spanish peaks, we were all afoot. A breakfast—similar in materials to our supper of the preceding night was hastily prepared, and still more hastily eaten. After that we proceeded to equip ourselves for the masquerade. Peg-leg acted as principalcostumier; and well understood he therôlehe was called upon to perform. Perfectly acquainted with the Utah costume—both that used for war and the chase—there was no fear about the correctness of his heraldry being called in question. He knew every quartering: of the Utah escutcheon, with a minuteness of detail that would have done credit to a King-at-arms.
For himself he needed no disguise. As a trapper of Taos, he might also be an associate of Utah hunters; and personally unknown to the Mormons, they would have no other thoughts about him—further than that their friend Wa-ka-ra had sent him to guide them across the deserts of the Colorado. At the Mormon camp, therefore, he could present himself in his Mexican costume, without the Saints having the slightest suspicion as to his true character. This left him free to lend his services to the rest of us, and assist in our heraldic emblazonment. His first essay was upon myself. My features being sufficiently pronounced, rendered it all the more easy to make an Indian of me; and a uniform coat of vermilion over my neck, face, and hands, transformed me into a somewhat formidable-looking warrior. A buckskin hunting tunic, leggings and mocassins concealed the remainder of my skin; while some locks of long hair extracted from the mane and tail of my Arab, and craftily united to my own dark tresses, with the plumed bonnet and drooping crest overall, completed a costume that would have done me credit at a Parisianbal masqué.
With equal facility was accomplished the metamorphosis of the young backwoodsman, but not so easily that of Sure-shot. Thenez retroussé, thin yellow hair, and green-grey eyes appeared to be insurmountable obstacles to the Indianising of the ex-rifleman. Peg-leg, however, proved an artist of skill. Thechevelureof Sure-shot, well saturated with charcoal paste, assumed a different hue. A black circle around each eye neutralised the tint of both iris and pupil. To his face was given a ground-coat of red ochre; while some half-dozen dark stripes, painted longitudinally over it, and running parallel to the nose, extinguished the snub—transforming the Yankee into as good an Indian as any upon the ground!
Marian was her own “dresser;” and while we were engaged outside, was making her toilet within the tent. Her costume would require but little alteration: it was Indian already. Her face alone needed masking—and how was that to be done? To speak the truth, I was apprehensive upon the score of her disguise. I could not help reflecting on the fearful fate that awaited her, should the counterfeit be detected, and the girl identified. All along, I had felt uneasy upon this point; and had been endeavouring to devise some scheme by which to avoid the imprudence of her presenting herself in the Mormon camp. But the thought of Lilian—the perilous situation in which she was placed—perhaps more than all, the selfishness of my own love, had hindered me from thinking of any definite alternative.
When I saw the huntress-maiden issue forth from her tent—her face empurpled with the juice of theallegriaberries—her cheeks exhibiting, each a circle of red spots, with a line of similar markings extended across her forehead—I no longer felt apprehension for the result. Though the hideous tattooing could not hide the charms of her speaking countenance, it had so changed its expression, that even Wingrove himself would not have recognised her! More like was it to baffle the scrutiny of father and false husband.
In due time we were all dressed for the drama; and, after making acacheof our cast-off garments, we struck tents, and moved forward to the performance. The faithful Wolf accompanied us. It was against my wish, and contrary to the counsel of our guide; but Marian would not part with a companion that more than once had protected her from cruel enemies. The dog had been disguised, as the rest of us. Shorn of his shaggy coat, with his tail trimmed smooth as that of a greyhound—his skin, moreover, stained Indian fashion—there seemed but slight danger that the animal could be recognised.
Chapter Ninety Six.The Mormon Train.A few hours’ ride brought us to the western end of the pass; when, rounding a spur of the mountain, a wide plain was suddenly displayed to our view.“Mira!” exclaimed the Mexican, “el campamento de los Judios!” (Behold! the encampment of the Jews!)The guide halted as he spoke. The rest of us followed his example—as we did so, gazing in the direction to which he had pointed.The plain that stretched before us was the grandvalléof San Luis; but presenting none of those characteristics which we usually associate with the word “valley.” On the contrary, its surface was perfectly level—having all the aspect of a sleeping sea; and with the white filmy haze suspended over it, it might easily have been mistaken for an expanse of ocean. At first sight, it appeared to be bounded only by the horizon; but a keen eye could perceive its western rim—in the dim outlines of the Sierra San Juan, backed by the brighter summits of the “Silver” Mountains (Sierra de la plata). More conspicuous, on the north, were the wooded slopes of the Sierras Mojada and Sawatch; while, right and left, towered the snow-covered peaks of Pike and the Watoyah—like giant sentinels guarding the approach to this fair mountain-girt valley. These details were taken in at a singlecoup d’oeil; and in the same glance the eye was attracted by the sheen of real water, that, like a glittering cord, was seen sinuously extended through the centre of the plain. Under the dancing sunbeams, it appeared in motion; and, curving repeatedly over the bosom of the level land, it resembled some grand serpent of sparkling coruscation that had just issued from the mysterious mountains of the “Silver Sierra,” and was slowly and gently gliding on towards the distant sea. From the elevation on which we stood, we could trace its tortuous windings, towards the distant Sierra of San Juan; and in the concavity of one of these—almost upon the verge of our vision—we beheld “el campamento de los Judios.”Unprepared for it, we should never have thought of taking what we saw for an encampment of Mormons, or men of any kind. Under the white filmy veil that floated over the plain, some half-dozen little, spots of a more intensified white were barely visible. These the Mexican pronounced to be “los carros” (the waggons). I had recovered my pocket-glass, and this was now called into requisition. A glance through it enabled me to confirm the trapper’s statement. The white spots were waggon-covers: they could be none other than those of the Mormon train. I could make out only some half-dozen of them; but there were others behind. The vehicles were clumped, or, more likely,corralledupon the plain. This, indeed, was evident from their arrangement. Those seen were set in a regular row, with their sides towards us—forming, no doubt, one quarter of the “corral.”I looked for living forms. These were also visible under the glass—men and animals. Of the latter, a large drove of different kinds and colours could be seen, mottling the plain to some distance from the waggons. The men were moving about the vehicles. Women I could also distinguish by their dresses; but the distance was too great for me to note the occupations of either sex—even by the aid of the magnifying lens. Lilliputians they looked—both men and women—while the horses and cattle might have been mistaken for a pack of curs. It mattered not to us to know their occupation; nor even what they might be doing when we should arrive upon the ground. We had no intention of stealing upon them. Confident in our completedéguisement, we intended to ride boldly forward—if need be, into the very middle of their camp. It was now the hour of noon; and we halted to bivouac. Although the distance that separated us from the Mormon camp was still considerable, we were in no hurry, about advancing. We had formed the resolution not to join company with the Saints, until near sunset. We knew that there would be curious eyes upon us; and in the hour of twilight we should be less exposed to their scrutiny. True, we might have joined them in the night, and passed off our counterfeit semblance with still greater security. But the morning would bring fresh light, with curiosity unsatisfied, and that would be more disadvantageous. Half an hour of observation, and the novelty of our arrival would wear off. For this the half hour of twilight would be the best time. No doubt, they had met many parties of friendly Indians while crossing the great plains. There had been some among their travelling companions. They would scarce consider us a curiosity. We had a reason for reaching their encampment a little before nightfall: we wanted a few minutes of light to take the bearings of thecorral, and get acquainted with thetopographyof the surrounding plain. Who could tell what chances might turn up in our favour? An opportunity might occur that very night—as likely as afterwards, and perhaps under more favourable circumstances? We had no desire to enter upon our engagement as guide and hunters. We should be too willing to abandon therôle, even before beginning it.The last rays of the setting sun were sparkling on the selenite of the Silver Mountains, as we approached the encampment of the Saints. We had got near enough to make out the dimensions of the caravan. We saw that there were about a score of the large tilted waggons (Troy and Conestoga), with several smaller vehicles (Dearborns and Jerseys). The latter, with springs, were no doubt the more luxurious travelling carriages of such Saints as may have been in easier circumstances at home; while the ox-drawn “Conestogas” belonged to the common crowd. With the larger waggons, a “corral” had been formed—as is the usual custom of the prairie caravan.In the following fashion is the enclosure constructed:—The two front waggons are drawn side by side, and halted close together. The two that follow next on the trail, are driven up outside of these—until their front wheels respectively touch the hind ones of the pair that precede them—when they also stop. The pair following in their turn double their poles upon these; and so on, till half the train is expended. The enclosure is not yet complete. It forms only a half-circle, or rather a semi-ellipse; and the corresponding half is obtained, by a slight change in the mode of bringing up the remaining vehicles. These are driven forward to the ground, so that the rear of each is turnedinward—the reverse of what was observed in bringing the others into place—and the double-curve which before was constantly diverging, now becomes convergent. When all the waggons have got into their places, the ellipse will be completed; but it is customary to leave anopenspace at the end—a sort of avenue by which the enclosure may be entered. When horses and cattle require to becorralled, this entrance can be closed, by simply stretching a rope across it. If danger be apprehended, the travellers can keep within this enclosure—the bodies of the waggons forming an excellent rampart of defence. The tilts serve as tents; and under their capacious covering the female members of the emigrant’s family are accustomed to sleep in comfort and security. Sentinels outside, and horse-guards picketed still further off, give warning of the approach of an enemy.As we drew near the camp, we could perceive that in this approved fashion had the Mormons constructed theircorral. Most of the lighter vehicles were inside the enclosure; and there we could see the forms of women and children moving about in an excited manner—as if they had retreated thither on discovering our approach. The men still remained outside; and the horses and horned cattle had been left undisturbed. Our party was not large enough to have created an alarm—even had our arrival been unexpected. It could scarcely have been so. No doubt they took us for what we were: the emissaries of the Utah chief!When within a few hundred yards of the camp, a party, already on horseback, came trotting towards us. Archilete had hoisted a piece of white fawn-skin on his gun-rod—the world-known symbol of peace, and so understood by the red men of America. A towel or table-cloth, or something of the sort, was held up in answer; and after the demonstration the mounted men spurred forward to meet us. When we had approached within a dozen lengths of each other, both parties reined up; and the Mexican and Mormon leader, separating from their respective followers, met midway between the two parties, shook hands, and entered into conversation. What they said was simple enough. I could hear the trapper declaring in broken English the nature of our errand—that he had been sent by Wa-ka-ra to act as their guide; and that we hiscompañeros, were the Utah hunters, to provide game for the caravan. Of the Mormons who rode up to us there were half-a-dozen in all; and I was fain to hope that they were not a fair specimen of the emigrant party. They were not—as I afterwards ascertained. They were theDanites, orDestroying Angels, that accompanied the train. “Destroyingdevils” would have been a more appropriate appellation: for six more villainous-looking individuals I had never beheld. There was no sign of the angelic, neither in their eyes nor features—not a trace; but, on the contrary, each might have passed for an impersonation of the opposite character—a very “devil incarnate!” Five of them I had never seen before—at least to remember them. The sixth only on one occasion. Him I remembered well. The man who had once looked in the face of the ex-attorney’s clerk, andci-devantschoolmaster of Swampville, was not likely soon to cast that countenance from his remembrance. It was Stebbins who was talking to the Mexican. The dialogue was of brief duration. The tale told by the trapper was scarcely news: it had been expected; and was therefore accepted without suspicion. The interview ended by the Mormon leader pointing to a place where we might pitch our tents—outside the waggon enclosure, and near the bank of the river. This was just what we desired; and, proceeding direct to the spot, we commenced unpacking our paraphernalia.
A few hours’ ride brought us to the western end of the pass; when, rounding a spur of the mountain, a wide plain was suddenly displayed to our view.
“Mira!” exclaimed the Mexican, “el campamento de los Judios!” (Behold! the encampment of the Jews!)
The guide halted as he spoke. The rest of us followed his example—as we did so, gazing in the direction to which he had pointed.
The plain that stretched before us was the grandvalléof San Luis; but presenting none of those characteristics which we usually associate with the word “valley.” On the contrary, its surface was perfectly level—having all the aspect of a sleeping sea; and with the white filmy haze suspended over it, it might easily have been mistaken for an expanse of ocean. At first sight, it appeared to be bounded only by the horizon; but a keen eye could perceive its western rim—in the dim outlines of the Sierra San Juan, backed by the brighter summits of the “Silver” Mountains (Sierra de la plata). More conspicuous, on the north, were the wooded slopes of the Sierras Mojada and Sawatch; while, right and left, towered the snow-covered peaks of Pike and the Watoyah—like giant sentinels guarding the approach to this fair mountain-girt valley. These details were taken in at a singlecoup d’oeil; and in the same glance the eye was attracted by the sheen of real water, that, like a glittering cord, was seen sinuously extended through the centre of the plain. Under the dancing sunbeams, it appeared in motion; and, curving repeatedly over the bosom of the level land, it resembled some grand serpent of sparkling coruscation that had just issued from the mysterious mountains of the “Silver Sierra,” and was slowly and gently gliding on towards the distant sea. From the elevation on which we stood, we could trace its tortuous windings, towards the distant Sierra of San Juan; and in the concavity of one of these—almost upon the verge of our vision—we beheld “el campamento de los Judios.”
Unprepared for it, we should never have thought of taking what we saw for an encampment of Mormons, or men of any kind. Under the white filmy veil that floated over the plain, some half-dozen little, spots of a more intensified white were barely visible. These the Mexican pronounced to be “los carros” (the waggons). I had recovered my pocket-glass, and this was now called into requisition. A glance through it enabled me to confirm the trapper’s statement. The white spots were waggon-covers: they could be none other than those of the Mormon train. I could make out only some half-dozen of them; but there were others behind. The vehicles were clumped, or, more likely,corralledupon the plain. This, indeed, was evident from their arrangement. Those seen were set in a regular row, with their sides towards us—forming, no doubt, one quarter of the “corral.”
I looked for living forms. These were also visible under the glass—men and animals. Of the latter, a large drove of different kinds and colours could be seen, mottling the plain to some distance from the waggons. The men were moving about the vehicles. Women I could also distinguish by their dresses; but the distance was too great for me to note the occupations of either sex—even by the aid of the magnifying lens. Lilliputians they looked—both men and women—while the horses and cattle might have been mistaken for a pack of curs. It mattered not to us to know their occupation; nor even what they might be doing when we should arrive upon the ground. We had no intention of stealing upon them. Confident in our completedéguisement, we intended to ride boldly forward—if need be, into the very middle of their camp. It was now the hour of noon; and we halted to bivouac. Although the distance that separated us from the Mormon camp was still considerable, we were in no hurry, about advancing. We had formed the resolution not to join company with the Saints, until near sunset. We knew that there would be curious eyes upon us; and in the hour of twilight we should be less exposed to their scrutiny. True, we might have joined them in the night, and passed off our counterfeit semblance with still greater security. But the morning would bring fresh light, with curiosity unsatisfied, and that would be more disadvantageous. Half an hour of observation, and the novelty of our arrival would wear off. For this the half hour of twilight would be the best time. No doubt, they had met many parties of friendly Indians while crossing the great plains. There had been some among their travelling companions. They would scarce consider us a curiosity. We had a reason for reaching their encampment a little before nightfall: we wanted a few minutes of light to take the bearings of thecorral, and get acquainted with thetopographyof the surrounding plain. Who could tell what chances might turn up in our favour? An opportunity might occur that very night—as likely as afterwards, and perhaps under more favourable circumstances? We had no desire to enter upon our engagement as guide and hunters. We should be too willing to abandon therôle, even before beginning it.
The last rays of the setting sun were sparkling on the selenite of the Silver Mountains, as we approached the encampment of the Saints. We had got near enough to make out the dimensions of the caravan. We saw that there were about a score of the large tilted waggons (Troy and Conestoga), with several smaller vehicles (Dearborns and Jerseys). The latter, with springs, were no doubt the more luxurious travelling carriages of such Saints as may have been in easier circumstances at home; while the ox-drawn “Conestogas” belonged to the common crowd. With the larger waggons, a “corral” had been formed—as is the usual custom of the prairie caravan.
In the following fashion is the enclosure constructed:—The two front waggons are drawn side by side, and halted close together. The two that follow next on the trail, are driven up outside of these—until their front wheels respectively touch the hind ones of the pair that precede them—when they also stop. The pair following in their turn double their poles upon these; and so on, till half the train is expended. The enclosure is not yet complete. It forms only a half-circle, or rather a semi-ellipse; and the corresponding half is obtained, by a slight change in the mode of bringing up the remaining vehicles. These are driven forward to the ground, so that the rear of each is turnedinward—the reverse of what was observed in bringing the others into place—and the double-curve which before was constantly diverging, now becomes convergent. When all the waggons have got into their places, the ellipse will be completed; but it is customary to leave anopenspace at the end—a sort of avenue by which the enclosure may be entered. When horses and cattle require to becorralled, this entrance can be closed, by simply stretching a rope across it. If danger be apprehended, the travellers can keep within this enclosure—the bodies of the waggons forming an excellent rampart of defence. The tilts serve as tents; and under their capacious covering the female members of the emigrant’s family are accustomed to sleep in comfort and security. Sentinels outside, and horse-guards picketed still further off, give warning of the approach of an enemy.
As we drew near the camp, we could perceive that in this approved fashion had the Mormons constructed theircorral. Most of the lighter vehicles were inside the enclosure; and there we could see the forms of women and children moving about in an excited manner—as if they had retreated thither on discovering our approach. The men still remained outside; and the horses and horned cattle had been left undisturbed. Our party was not large enough to have created an alarm—even had our arrival been unexpected. It could scarcely have been so. No doubt they took us for what we were: the emissaries of the Utah chief!
When within a few hundred yards of the camp, a party, already on horseback, came trotting towards us. Archilete had hoisted a piece of white fawn-skin on his gun-rod—the world-known symbol of peace, and so understood by the red men of America. A towel or table-cloth, or something of the sort, was held up in answer; and after the demonstration the mounted men spurred forward to meet us. When we had approached within a dozen lengths of each other, both parties reined up; and the Mexican and Mormon leader, separating from their respective followers, met midway between the two parties, shook hands, and entered into conversation. What they said was simple enough. I could hear the trapper declaring in broken English the nature of our errand—that he had been sent by Wa-ka-ra to act as their guide; and that we hiscompañeros, were the Utah hunters, to provide game for the caravan. Of the Mormons who rode up to us there were half-a-dozen in all; and I was fain to hope that they were not a fair specimen of the emigrant party. They were not—as I afterwards ascertained. They were theDanites, orDestroying Angels, that accompanied the train. “Destroyingdevils” would have been a more appropriate appellation: for six more villainous-looking individuals I had never beheld. There was no sign of the angelic, neither in their eyes nor features—not a trace; but, on the contrary, each might have passed for an impersonation of the opposite character—a very “devil incarnate!” Five of them I had never seen before—at least to remember them. The sixth only on one occasion. Him I remembered well. The man who had once looked in the face of the ex-attorney’s clerk, andci-devantschoolmaster of Swampville, was not likely soon to cast that countenance from his remembrance. It was Stebbins who was talking to the Mexican. The dialogue was of brief duration. The tale told by the trapper was scarcely news: it had been expected; and was therefore accepted without suspicion. The interview ended by the Mormon leader pointing to a place where we might pitch our tents—outside the waggon enclosure, and near the bank of the river. This was just what we desired; and, proceeding direct to the spot, we commenced unpacking our paraphernalia.
Chapter Ninety Seven.The Corralled Camp.As soon as our quality was known, the Saints came crowding around us. The corral poured forth its contents—until nine-tenths of the whole caravan, men, women and children, stood gazing upon us, with that stare of idiotic wonder peculiar to the humbler classes of countries called civilised. We managed to withstand the ordeal of their scrutiny with an assumed air of true savage indifference. Not without an effort, however: since it was difficult to resist laughing at the grotesque exclamations and speeches, which our appearance and movements elicited from these wondering yokels. We were cautious not to notice their remarks—appearing as if we understood them not. Peg-leg, by the aid of his Anglo-American jargon—picked up among the mountain-men—was able to satisfy them with an occasional reply. The rest of us said nothing; but, to all appearance earnestly occupied with our own affairs, only by stealth turned our eyes on the spectators. I could perceive that the huntress was the chief attraction; and for a moment my apprehensions were sufficiently keen. The girl had done nothing to disguise her sex—the mask extending no farther than to her face and features. Her neck, hands, and wrists—all of her skin that might be exposed—were stained Indian of course; and there would have been little likelihood of their detecting the false epidermis under a casual observation. Had it been a mere ordinary person—painted as she was—she might have passed for an Indian without difficulty. As it was, however, her voluptuous beauty had tempted a closer scrutiny; and, spite of her disfigured features, I saw glances directed upon her expressive of secret but passionate observation. Some of the bystanders took no pains to conceal their predilection.“Darnationed likely squaw!” remarked one. “Who air she, old timber-toes?” inquired he, addressing himself to the guide. “Squaw—Utah gal,” replied the Mexican in his trapper patois. Pointing to me, he continued: “She sister to hunter-chief—she hunter too—kill bighorn, buffalo, deer.Carrambo! si! She grandcazadora!”“Oh! durn yer kezedora. I don’ know, what that ere means; but I do know, an’ rayther calculate, if that ere squaw had the scrubbin’-brush an’ a leetle soft soap over that face o’ hern, she’d look some punkins, I guess.”The fellow who had thus eloquently delivered himself was one of the six who had saluted us on our arrival. Two or three of hisconfrèreswere standing beside him—gazing with lynx, or rather wolf-like glances upon the girl. Stebbins himself, before parting, had cast upon her a look of singular expression. It was not significant of recognition; but rather of some thought of viler origin. The others continued to give utterance to their mock admiration; and I was glad—as the girl herself appeared to be—when the tent was pitched, and she was able to retire out of reach of their rude ribaldry.We had now an opportunity of studying the Mormonschez eux mêmes: for not one of them had the slightest idea that their talk was understood by us. Most of them appeared to be of the humbler class of emigrants—farm-people or those of mechanical calling—artisans of the common trades—shoemakers, blacksmiths, joiners, and the like. In the countenances of these there was no cast that betrayed a character, either of particular saintliness or sin. In most of them, the expression was simply stolid and bovine; and it was evident that these were the mere cattle of the herd. Among them could be observed a sprinkling of a different sort of Saints—men of more seeming intelligence, but with less moral inclinings—men of corrupt thoughts and corrupt lives—perhaps once gentle, but now fallen—who had, no doubt, adopted this pseudo-religion in the expectation of bettering their temporal rather than spiritual condition. The influence of these last over the others was quite apparent. They were evidently chiefs—bishops or deacons—“tenths” or “seventies.” It was singular enough to seedandiesamong them; and yet, however ludicrous the exhibition, dandyism was there displayed! More than one “swell” strutted through the crowd in patent-leather boots, Parisian silk hat, and coat of shining broad-cloth! The temporary halt had offered an opportunity for this display of personal adornment; and these butterflies had availed themselves of the advantage, to cast for a few hours the chrysalis of their travelling gear.The women were of all ages; and, it might be added, of all nations. Several European tongues mingled in the mêlée of sounds; but the one which predominated was that language without vowels—the jargon of the Welsh Principality. The continual clacking of this unspeakable tongue told that the sons and daughters of the Cymri mustered strongest in the migration. Many of the latter wore their picturesque native costume—the red-hooded cloak and kirtle; and some were unspeakably fair, with the fine white teeth, fair complexion, and ruddy cheeks, common to other branches of the Celtic race, but nowhere so characteristic as among the fair maidens of Cambria. It was, no doubt, those sweet shining faces, wreathed with free artless smiles, that had caused the lady-killers to unpack their portmanteaus.My own eyes dwelt not upon these. Ever since our arrival upon the ground, I had been watching with keen glances the opening that led into the corral. Every one who came forth—man or woman—had been the object of my scrutiny. But my glances had been given in vain; and were not rewarded by the recognition of a single individual. The entrance was about two hundred yards from the place where our tents were being pitched; but even at that distance I should have recognised the colossal squatter. As for Lilian, my heart’s instinct would have declared her identity at the most casual glance. Neither father nor daughter had yet made their appearance outside the enclosure: though all the world beside had come freely forth, and many were going back again. It was odd, to say the least, they should act so differently from the others. She, I knew, was very different from the “ruck” that surrounded her; and yet one would have thought that curiosity would have tempted her forth—that simple childlike inclination, natural in one so young, to witness our wild attire—to gaze on our plumes and our paint? I could less wonder at Holt himself being insensible to such attraction; but in her it seemed strange. My astonishment increased, as form after form passed out from the opening, but not that for which my eyes were searching. It ceased to be astonishment: it grew into chagrin; and after that assumed the character of an apprehension. This apprehension I had already entertained, but in a less definite form. It now shaped itself into a cruel doubt—the doubt ofher being there—either inside the corral, or anywhere in the Mormon camp!After all, had we taken the wrong track? Might not Holt have kept on with the gold-diggers? The story of the Chicasa signified nothing. Might not Lilian, under the protection of that gallant dragoon, with the torn tassel—might not she? “It is quite probable,” I muttered to myself, “highly probable that they are not here! The squatter may have resisted the will of his Apostolic companion; and, separating himself from the Mormon party, have gone on with the diggers? No! yonder! Holt himself, as I live!”The exclamatory phrases were called forth by the appearance of a tall man in the opening between the waggons. It was Holt. He was standing still; and must have reached the spot he occupied but the moment before—when my eyes for an instant had been turned away. The Herculean frame, and great rufous beard hanging over his breast, proclaimed to my eyes the identity of the Tennessean squatter; and the costume confirmed it. It was precisely the same worn by him on that eventful morning—when standing before me with his long rifle raised against my life. The ample surtout of greenish blanket-cloth, a little further faded—the red skirt underneath—the coarse horse-skin boots rising to his thighs—the crimson kerchief turbaned around his head, its loose flap falling down over his shaggy eyebrows—were all identical with the portrait remaining in my memory. I watched him with eager eye. Was it his intention to step nearer and examine us? Or had he come forth upon some other business? He was looking grave, and sad, I thought; but in the distance I could scarce note the expression upon his countenance. It did not appear to betoken curiosity. Once only he glanced towards us, and then turned his eyes in an opposite direction. This did not shew that he cared much for our presence, or was in anywise interested in it. In all likelihood, he shared not the childish curiosity of his travelling companions—to whom he in other respects bore but little resemblance. As he stood in their midst, he looked like some grim but majestic lion, surrounded by jackals. His behaviour suggested a further similitude to the great forest monarch. He seemed to hold no converse with those around him; but stood apart and for the moment motionless as a statue. Once only I noticed that he yawned—stretching out his colossal arms, as if to aid in the involuntary action. For this purpose, and this alone, did he appear to have come forth: since, shortly after its accomplishment, he turned back into the avenue, and disappeared behind the barricade of the waggons!
As soon as our quality was known, the Saints came crowding around us. The corral poured forth its contents—until nine-tenths of the whole caravan, men, women and children, stood gazing upon us, with that stare of idiotic wonder peculiar to the humbler classes of countries called civilised. We managed to withstand the ordeal of their scrutiny with an assumed air of true savage indifference. Not without an effort, however: since it was difficult to resist laughing at the grotesque exclamations and speeches, which our appearance and movements elicited from these wondering yokels. We were cautious not to notice their remarks—appearing as if we understood them not. Peg-leg, by the aid of his Anglo-American jargon—picked up among the mountain-men—was able to satisfy them with an occasional reply. The rest of us said nothing; but, to all appearance earnestly occupied with our own affairs, only by stealth turned our eyes on the spectators. I could perceive that the huntress was the chief attraction; and for a moment my apprehensions were sufficiently keen. The girl had done nothing to disguise her sex—the mask extending no farther than to her face and features. Her neck, hands, and wrists—all of her skin that might be exposed—were stained Indian of course; and there would have been little likelihood of their detecting the false epidermis under a casual observation. Had it been a mere ordinary person—painted as she was—she might have passed for an Indian without difficulty. As it was, however, her voluptuous beauty had tempted a closer scrutiny; and, spite of her disfigured features, I saw glances directed upon her expressive of secret but passionate observation. Some of the bystanders took no pains to conceal their predilection.
“Darnationed likely squaw!” remarked one. “Who air she, old timber-toes?” inquired he, addressing himself to the guide. “Squaw—Utah gal,” replied the Mexican in his trapper patois. Pointing to me, he continued: “She sister to hunter-chief—she hunter too—kill bighorn, buffalo, deer.Carrambo! si! She grandcazadora!”
“Oh! durn yer kezedora. I don’ know, what that ere means; but I do know, an’ rayther calculate, if that ere squaw had the scrubbin’-brush an’ a leetle soft soap over that face o’ hern, she’d look some punkins, I guess.”
The fellow who had thus eloquently delivered himself was one of the six who had saluted us on our arrival. Two or three of hisconfrèreswere standing beside him—gazing with lynx, or rather wolf-like glances upon the girl. Stebbins himself, before parting, had cast upon her a look of singular expression. It was not significant of recognition; but rather of some thought of viler origin. The others continued to give utterance to their mock admiration; and I was glad—as the girl herself appeared to be—when the tent was pitched, and she was able to retire out of reach of their rude ribaldry.
We had now an opportunity of studying the Mormonschez eux mêmes: for not one of them had the slightest idea that their talk was understood by us. Most of them appeared to be of the humbler class of emigrants—farm-people or those of mechanical calling—artisans of the common trades—shoemakers, blacksmiths, joiners, and the like. In the countenances of these there was no cast that betrayed a character, either of particular saintliness or sin. In most of them, the expression was simply stolid and bovine; and it was evident that these were the mere cattle of the herd. Among them could be observed a sprinkling of a different sort of Saints—men of more seeming intelligence, but with less moral inclinings—men of corrupt thoughts and corrupt lives—perhaps once gentle, but now fallen—who had, no doubt, adopted this pseudo-religion in the expectation of bettering their temporal rather than spiritual condition. The influence of these last over the others was quite apparent. They were evidently chiefs—bishops or deacons—“tenths” or “seventies.” It was singular enough to seedandiesamong them; and yet, however ludicrous the exhibition, dandyism was there displayed! More than one “swell” strutted through the crowd in patent-leather boots, Parisian silk hat, and coat of shining broad-cloth! The temporary halt had offered an opportunity for this display of personal adornment; and these butterflies had availed themselves of the advantage, to cast for a few hours the chrysalis of their travelling gear.
The women were of all ages; and, it might be added, of all nations. Several European tongues mingled in the mêlée of sounds; but the one which predominated was that language without vowels—the jargon of the Welsh Principality. The continual clacking of this unspeakable tongue told that the sons and daughters of the Cymri mustered strongest in the migration. Many of the latter wore their picturesque native costume—the red-hooded cloak and kirtle; and some were unspeakably fair, with the fine white teeth, fair complexion, and ruddy cheeks, common to other branches of the Celtic race, but nowhere so characteristic as among the fair maidens of Cambria. It was, no doubt, those sweet shining faces, wreathed with free artless smiles, that had caused the lady-killers to unpack their portmanteaus.
My own eyes dwelt not upon these. Ever since our arrival upon the ground, I had been watching with keen glances the opening that led into the corral. Every one who came forth—man or woman—had been the object of my scrutiny. But my glances had been given in vain; and were not rewarded by the recognition of a single individual. The entrance was about two hundred yards from the place where our tents were being pitched; but even at that distance I should have recognised the colossal squatter. As for Lilian, my heart’s instinct would have declared her identity at the most casual glance. Neither father nor daughter had yet made their appearance outside the enclosure: though all the world beside had come freely forth, and many were going back again. It was odd, to say the least, they should act so differently from the others. She, I knew, was very different from the “ruck” that surrounded her; and yet one would have thought that curiosity would have tempted her forth—that simple childlike inclination, natural in one so young, to witness our wild attire—to gaze on our plumes and our paint? I could less wonder at Holt himself being insensible to such attraction; but in her it seemed strange. My astonishment increased, as form after form passed out from the opening, but not that for which my eyes were searching. It ceased to be astonishment: it grew into chagrin; and after that assumed the character of an apprehension. This apprehension I had already entertained, but in a less definite form. It now shaped itself into a cruel doubt—the doubt ofher being there—either inside the corral, or anywhere in the Mormon camp!
After all, had we taken the wrong track? Might not Holt have kept on with the gold-diggers? The story of the Chicasa signified nothing. Might not Lilian, under the protection of that gallant dragoon, with the torn tassel—might not she? “It is quite probable,” I muttered to myself, “highly probable that they are not here! The squatter may have resisted the will of his Apostolic companion; and, separating himself from the Mormon party, have gone on with the diggers? No! yonder! Holt himself, as I live!”
The exclamatory phrases were called forth by the appearance of a tall man in the opening between the waggons. It was Holt. He was standing still; and must have reached the spot he occupied but the moment before—when my eyes for an instant had been turned away. The Herculean frame, and great rufous beard hanging over his breast, proclaimed to my eyes the identity of the Tennessean squatter; and the costume confirmed it. It was precisely the same worn by him on that eventful morning—when standing before me with his long rifle raised against my life. The ample surtout of greenish blanket-cloth, a little further faded—the red skirt underneath—the coarse horse-skin boots rising to his thighs—the crimson kerchief turbaned around his head, its loose flap falling down over his shaggy eyebrows—were all identical with the portrait remaining in my memory. I watched him with eager eye. Was it his intention to step nearer and examine us? Or had he come forth upon some other business? He was looking grave, and sad, I thought; but in the distance I could scarce note the expression upon his countenance. It did not appear to betoken curiosity. Once only he glanced towards us, and then turned his eyes in an opposite direction. This did not shew that he cared much for our presence, or was in anywise interested in it. In all likelihood, he shared not the childish curiosity of his travelling companions—to whom he in other respects bore but little resemblance. As he stood in their midst, he looked like some grim but majestic lion, surrounded by jackals. His behaviour suggested a further similitude to the great forest monarch. He seemed to hold no converse with those around him; but stood apart and for the moment motionless as a statue. Once only I noticed that he yawned—stretching out his colossal arms, as if to aid in the involuntary action. For this purpose, and this alone, did he appear to have come forth: since, shortly after its accomplishment, he turned back into the avenue, and disappeared behind the barricade of the waggons!
Chapter Ninety Eight.Beauty Embrowned.The apparition—for it had something of the character of one—restored my equanimity. Holt was with the Mormon train; and of course Lilian also. It may seem strange that this knowledge should have given me satisfaction—that a belief, but yesterday grieving me, should to-day bring gladness!The apparent anomaly is easily explained. It was the consequence of a change in the situation. My confidence in the success of our scheme had now become strengthened—almost to a certainty. So deftly had we taken our measures, that we need apprehend no great difficulty in attaining the end aimed at. Among the Saints, there was not the slightest suspicion of our character—at least none had yet shown itself. We should be free to come and go, as we pleased: since the very nature of our contract required it. Camp and caravan would be alike accessible to us—at all hours, I might say—and surely opportunities would not be lacking for the accomplishment of our purpose?Only one object was worth regarding: the will of Lilian herself. She might still refuse to become a runaway? She might not consent to forsake her father? In that case, our efforts would be idle indeed! Had I reason to expect such a perverse contingency? Surely not? Though my own influence might be gone, her sister would still have the power to persuade her? Her eyes once opened to the conspiracy that threatened her, surely but one thought could arise in that virtuous bosom—how to escape from it? “No—no,” was my concluding reflection, spoken in soliloquy, “there need be no fear of opposition in that quarter. True, Lilian is still a child; but her virtue is that of a virgin heart. Her sister’s story, when told to her, will arouse her to a sense of her own danger. She will be ready, as we, to adopt measures for averting it.”Drawing comfort from this reflection, I was turning to attend to my horse. The gallant creature had been sadly neglected of late, and needed my care. A huge Mexicansilla, that with its trappings half-covered its body, would have sufficiently disguised him; but I had not much fear of his being recognised. Stebbins and Holt had both seen him—once only, and then under such circumstances that it was scarcely possible they could have noticed him. Otherwise, they might have remembered him readily enough. Such a noble steed, once seen, would not easily be forgotten. I had no fear, however; and was about to remove the saddle, when an object presented itself to my eyes that interrupted my intention—causing me to remain fixed and immobile. In the open ground, scarcely twenty paces from where I stood, was a form that fell upon the eye like a beam of empyrean light in the midst of deepest darkness—a girl of golden roseate hue, with achevelureof yellow hair hanging to her haunches in all its lustrous luxuriance! Scarcely twenty paces separated me from Lilian Holt: for need I say that it was Lilian herself who was standing before me?Instinctively, I noted changes. The wax-like smoothness, and, to a certain extent, the whiteness of her complexion, had yielded to the fervid rays of the prairie sun; but the slight embrowning appeared rather an improvement: as the bloom upon the peach, or the russet on the nectarine, proves the superior richness of the fruit. It had toned down the red upon her cheeks, but the glow was still sufficiently vivid. I observed or fancied another change—in her stature. She appeared to have grown larger and taller—in both respects, almost equalling her sister—and resembling the latter in that full development of form, which was one of the characteristic features of her queen-like beauty. These were the only changes external. Even the simple costume—the old homespun frock of yellowish stripe—still enveloped her form; no longer hanging loosely as of yore, but presenting a more sparing fit on account of the increased dimensions of the wearer. The string of pearls, too—false pearls, poor thing!—yet encircled her throat, whose now fuller outline was more capable of displaying them. A pleasing reflection crossed my mind at the moment, that shaped itself into an interrogatory: might there have been no motive for further adornment?As erst, her little feet were naked—gleaming with roseate translucence against the green background of the herbage. She was standing when I first saw her: not in a position of rest, but with one foot pressing the turf, the other slightly retired, as if she had just paused in her steps. She was not fronting me, but half-turned. She appeared to have come as near as she intended, and was about going off again in an oblique direction: like the startled antelope, that, despite its timidity, stops to gaze upon the “object that has alarmed it.” So short a time had my eyes been averted from the path by which she must have approached, I might well have fancied that she had suddenly sprung out of the earth—as Cytherea from the sea! Equally brilliant was the apparition—to me, of far more absorbing interest. Her large eyes were fixed upon me in a gaze of wondering curiosity—a curiosity which the picturesque habiliments and savage character of my toilet were well calculated to provoke. Her examination of me was soon ended; and she walked off in the direction towards which she had already turned her steps. She seemed scarcely satisfied, however: as I observed that she looked repeatedly back. What thought was prompting her to this? Women have keen perceptions—in intuition almost equalling instinct in its perceptive power. Could she have a suspicion? No, no: the thing was improbable—impossible!The path she was following would conduct her to the bank of the river—about a hundred yards above where our tents had been pitched, and a like distance from the nearest of the waggons. Her object in going thither was evident. A tin water-can, hanging by its iron handle over her wrist, proclaimed her errand. On reaching the river, she did not proceed to fill the vessel; but, placing it near the water’s edge, sat down beside it. The bank, slightly elevated above the stream, offered a sort of projecting bench. Upon this she had seated herself—in such an attitude that her limbs hung over, until one foot was immersed in the water. Her long hair lay spread upon the grass behind her; and with her head drooping forward, she appeared to gaze into the crystal depths of the stream—as intently, as if mirrored there she saw the form upon which the thoughts most delighted to dwell. Up to this point, I had watched her every movement. But only by stealth and in silence: since I knew that eyes were upon me. Just then, however, most of the gazers retired from our tents—a call to supper within the corral having summoned them away. For all that, I dared not approach the girl. The act would have appeared strange; and even she might desire to shun the toofreeintrusion of my savage presence—perhaps flee from it altogether? The opportunity of speaking with her was sufficiently tempting. Such another might not soon recur? I trembled at the thought of losing it. What was to be done? I might have sent Marian. She was still inside her tent, where she had taken shelter from the bold glances of her vulgar admirers. She did not yet know that Lilian was outside. I might have given her notice of the circumstance, and deputed her to speak with her sister; but I had certain reasons for not following this course.At this crisis an idea occurred to me, that promised to aid me in obtaining the interview I longed for. My Arab had not yet been given to the grass! Near where Lilian was seated, the herbage was luxuriant—more so than anywhere around. Upon it I could picket my steed, or hold him in hand, while he should browse? I lost not a minute in removing the saddle, and adjusting the halter; and scarcely another in approaching the spot where the young girl was seated. I drew near, however, with due circumspection—fearful that by a too brusque approach I might hasten her departure. I gave my horse to the grass—now and then guiding him with a pull upon the halter, which I still held in my hand. The young girl saw that I was gradually nearing her, and looked twice or three times towards me—not with any air of alarm. Rather of interest, I thought; but this may have been only a fancy. My horse appeared to share her attention—indeed, more than share it: since she fixed her eyes upon him frequently, and looked longer at him each time! Was it the noble form that was attracting her admiration? Or was there something that called up a recollection! She might remember the horse?“Oh, Lilian! would that I could speak to you as myself! How my heart yearns to give and receive some token of recognition? But no—not yet. I would not declare myself, till assured that that recognition might be welcome. Not till I could learn, whether the tender tie that bound our hearts was still unloosed—whether its too slender thread was yet unbroken!”I had resolved to explore the secret chambers of her heart; and this it was that rendered me desirous of anticipating any interview that might occur with her sister. Perhaps too easily might I obtain the knowledge of which I was in search? I might reach, only torueit? As I drew near, my hopes of being permitted to address myself to her increased. She still kept her seat, and made no attempt to shun me. I had approached within speaking distance. Words were upon my tongue; when a harsh voice, coming from behind, interrupted, at the same instant, both my speech and my intention.
The apparition—for it had something of the character of one—restored my equanimity. Holt was with the Mormon train; and of course Lilian also. It may seem strange that this knowledge should have given me satisfaction—that a belief, but yesterday grieving me, should to-day bring gladness!
The apparent anomaly is easily explained. It was the consequence of a change in the situation. My confidence in the success of our scheme had now become strengthened—almost to a certainty. So deftly had we taken our measures, that we need apprehend no great difficulty in attaining the end aimed at. Among the Saints, there was not the slightest suspicion of our character—at least none had yet shown itself. We should be free to come and go, as we pleased: since the very nature of our contract required it. Camp and caravan would be alike accessible to us—at all hours, I might say—and surely opportunities would not be lacking for the accomplishment of our purpose?
Only one object was worth regarding: the will of Lilian herself. She might still refuse to become a runaway? She might not consent to forsake her father? In that case, our efforts would be idle indeed! Had I reason to expect such a perverse contingency? Surely not? Though my own influence might be gone, her sister would still have the power to persuade her? Her eyes once opened to the conspiracy that threatened her, surely but one thought could arise in that virtuous bosom—how to escape from it? “No—no,” was my concluding reflection, spoken in soliloquy, “there need be no fear of opposition in that quarter. True, Lilian is still a child; but her virtue is that of a virgin heart. Her sister’s story, when told to her, will arouse her to a sense of her own danger. She will be ready, as we, to adopt measures for averting it.”
Drawing comfort from this reflection, I was turning to attend to my horse. The gallant creature had been sadly neglected of late, and needed my care. A huge Mexicansilla, that with its trappings half-covered its body, would have sufficiently disguised him; but I had not much fear of his being recognised. Stebbins and Holt had both seen him—once only, and then under such circumstances that it was scarcely possible they could have noticed him. Otherwise, they might have remembered him readily enough. Such a noble steed, once seen, would not easily be forgotten. I had no fear, however; and was about to remove the saddle, when an object presented itself to my eyes that interrupted my intention—causing me to remain fixed and immobile. In the open ground, scarcely twenty paces from where I stood, was a form that fell upon the eye like a beam of empyrean light in the midst of deepest darkness—a girl of golden roseate hue, with achevelureof yellow hair hanging to her haunches in all its lustrous luxuriance! Scarcely twenty paces separated me from Lilian Holt: for need I say that it was Lilian herself who was standing before me?
Instinctively, I noted changes. The wax-like smoothness, and, to a certain extent, the whiteness of her complexion, had yielded to the fervid rays of the prairie sun; but the slight embrowning appeared rather an improvement: as the bloom upon the peach, or the russet on the nectarine, proves the superior richness of the fruit. It had toned down the red upon her cheeks, but the glow was still sufficiently vivid. I observed or fancied another change—in her stature. She appeared to have grown larger and taller—in both respects, almost equalling her sister—and resembling the latter in that full development of form, which was one of the characteristic features of her queen-like beauty. These were the only changes external. Even the simple costume—the old homespun frock of yellowish stripe—still enveloped her form; no longer hanging loosely as of yore, but presenting a more sparing fit on account of the increased dimensions of the wearer. The string of pearls, too—false pearls, poor thing!—yet encircled her throat, whose now fuller outline was more capable of displaying them. A pleasing reflection crossed my mind at the moment, that shaped itself into an interrogatory: might there have been no motive for further adornment?
As erst, her little feet were naked—gleaming with roseate translucence against the green background of the herbage. She was standing when I first saw her: not in a position of rest, but with one foot pressing the turf, the other slightly retired, as if she had just paused in her steps. She was not fronting me, but half-turned. She appeared to have come as near as she intended, and was about going off again in an oblique direction: like the startled antelope, that, despite its timidity, stops to gaze upon the “object that has alarmed it.” So short a time had my eyes been averted from the path by which she must have approached, I might well have fancied that she had suddenly sprung out of the earth—as Cytherea from the sea! Equally brilliant was the apparition—to me, of far more absorbing interest. Her large eyes were fixed upon me in a gaze of wondering curiosity—a curiosity which the picturesque habiliments and savage character of my toilet were well calculated to provoke. Her examination of me was soon ended; and she walked off in the direction towards which she had already turned her steps. She seemed scarcely satisfied, however: as I observed that she looked repeatedly back. What thought was prompting her to this? Women have keen perceptions—in intuition almost equalling instinct in its perceptive power. Could she have a suspicion? No, no: the thing was improbable—impossible!
The path she was following would conduct her to the bank of the river—about a hundred yards above where our tents had been pitched, and a like distance from the nearest of the waggons. Her object in going thither was evident. A tin water-can, hanging by its iron handle over her wrist, proclaimed her errand. On reaching the river, she did not proceed to fill the vessel; but, placing it near the water’s edge, sat down beside it. The bank, slightly elevated above the stream, offered a sort of projecting bench. Upon this she had seated herself—in such an attitude that her limbs hung over, until one foot was immersed in the water. Her long hair lay spread upon the grass behind her; and with her head drooping forward, she appeared to gaze into the crystal depths of the stream—as intently, as if mirrored there she saw the form upon which the thoughts most delighted to dwell. Up to this point, I had watched her every movement. But only by stealth and in silence: since I knew that eyes were upon me. Just then, however, most of the gazers retired from our tents—a call to supper within the corral having summoned them away. For all that, I dared not approach the girl. The act would have appeared strange; and even she might desire to shun the toofreeintrusion of my savage presence—perhaps flee from it altogether? The opportunity of speaking with her was sufficiently tempting. Such another might not soon recur? I trembled at the thought of losing it. What was to be done? I might have sent Marian. She was still inside her tent, where she had taken shelter from the bold glances of her vulgar admirers. She did not yet know that Lilian was outside. I might have given her notice of the circumstance, and deputed her to speak with her sister; but I had certain reasons for not following this course.
At this crisis an idea occurred to me, that promised to aid me in obtaining the interview I longed for. My Arab had not yet been given to the grass! Near where Lilian was seated, the herbage was luxuriant—more so than anywhere around. Upon it I could picket my steed, or hold him in hand, while he should browse? I lost not a minute in removing the saddle, and adjusting the halter; and scarcely another in approaching the spot where the young girl was seated. I drew near, however, with due circumspection—fearful that by a too brusque approach I might hasten her departure. I gave my horse to the grass—now and then guiding him with a pull upon the halter, which I still held in my hand. The young girl saw that I was gradually nearing her, and looked twice or three times towards me—not with any air of alarm. Rather of interest, I thought; but this may have been only a fancy. My horse appeared to share her attention—indeed, more than share it: since she fixed her eyes upon him frequently, and looked longer at him each time! Was it the noble form that was attracting her admiration? Or was there something that called up a recollection! She might remember the horse?
“Oh, Lilian! would that I could speak to you as myself! How my heart yearns to give and receive some token of recognition? But no—not yet. I would not declare myself, till assured that that recognition might be welcome. Not till I could learn, whether the tender tie that bound our hearts was still unloosed—whether its too slender thread was yet unbroken!”
I had resolved to explore the secret chambers of her heart; and this it was that rendered me desirous of anticipating any interview that might occur with her sister. Perhaps too easily might I obtain the knowledge of which I was in search? I might reach, only torueit? As I drew near, my hopes of being permitted to address myself to her increased. She still kept her seat, and made no attempt to shun me. I had approached within speaking distance. Words were upon my tongue; when a harsh voice, coming from behind, interrupted, at the same instant, both my speech and my intention.
Chapter Ninety Nine.The Yellow Duenna.“Good lor, gal! wha you doin’ down da? You know Mass’ Holt an’ Mass’ Stebbins want dar coffee? Why ain’t you done fotch de water?”I faced round on hearing the voice. The tone and patois had already admonished me that the speaker was neither white nor Indian, but of that third typical race that mingles in the social life of the transatlantic world—an African. The harsh accentuation had prepared me for the appearance of a man and a negro; but, on turning, I perceived that I was mistaken—both as to the sex and colour. In the speaker I beheld amulatto—a yellow woman of large size—gross, corpulent, and greasy. Her dress was a light-coloured muslin print—negligently open at the breast, and garnished with gaudy ribbons, from which freely protruded the mountainous masses of her bosom. On her head was atoqueof checked “bandana,” folded over the black corkscrew ringlets, that scarce reached so low as her ears; while ungartered stockings upon her ankles, and slipshod shoes upon her feet, completed thetout ensembleof her costume. Notwithstanding thenegligévisible in her apparel, there were signs of conceit as to personal appearance. The fashion and trimmings were not in keeping with that of her tabooed race; and in the set of thetoquethere was a certain air of coquetry. The features, small and regular, might have once passed for handsome; but they were now nearly eliminated by her obese condition, which produced a disproportionate rotundity of face. The eyes, moreover, had lost all loveliness, if ever they had been endowed with such an expression. Their glance, in its brightest day, could have been only animal. It was still sufficiently sensual; but sensuality of a sullen and leering character. The voice of this woman had already produced an unpleasant effect upon me; so, too, the words spoken. The sight of her, as she stood “akimbo,” her hands resting upon her enormous haunches, only strengthened the sinister impression, which was still further confirmed by my observing that it had caused a similar effect elsewhere—upon Lilian! Even over that radiant countenance I could see that a cloud had stolen, and continued to shadow it!“Say, gal! wha you doin’ dar, anyhow? You fill dat pail double-quick, or, golly, you catch it!” A threat! Lilian listens to it, and obeys!“I am coming, Aunt Lucy!” replied the girl, in a trembling voice, at the same time hastening to fill the water-can.I was in hopes that this conciliatory answer would send the mulatta back into the corral. To my chagrin, it produced a result directly the reverse; for, on hearing it, the woman came waddling down in rapid strides towards the river. She made direct for the spot where Lilian was filling the can; and by her quick, nervous gestures, and the lurid light flashing in her half-buried eyes, I could perceive that some hideous passion was stirring within her. Lilian had already perceived that she was approaching, and stood waiting for her—evidently in awe! When within a few paces of the girl, the fat fury opened speech upon her—and in a tone as vindictive as the sound of her voice was harsh and grating.“Wha for, gal, you call meAuntLucy? Wha for you say dat? Dam! you call me so ’gain, I jab you eyes out. Sure I live, I gouge you!”The monster, as she spoke, stretched out her hand, bending the thumb with a significant gesture.She continued in the same spiteful tone:—“I tear you’ har you so conceit’ ’bout—you’ golding har, folks call. Piff! you’ har da colour ob yella squash. I pull um out o’ you’ head in fistful, you call meAuntLucy ’gain.”“I did not know it would offend you,” replied the young girl, in a meek voice. “Do not the others call you by that name?” she inquired hesitatingly. “Mr Stebbins does so?”“Nebba you mind what Mass’ Stabbins he do; da’s my affair. You hab a careyouno call me so. Da’s my affair, too. Jes you sayAuntLucy ’gain, I soon spoil you’ beauty, buckra gal.”“I shall not do so again, Lucy,” timidly rejoined the young girl.“MissLucy, you please. Don’t you tink you still in Tennessee! You’ know better bye ’n bye. Yella woman out heer good as white—marry white man all same—all same ’mong da Mormons—yah, yah, yah!”A leer towards Lilian accompanied this laughter, rendering its hideous significance more palpably expressive. So provoked was I by the brutal behaviour of the yellow wench, I could scarcely restrain myself from rushing up, and kicking her over the bank upon which she was standing. Nothing but the stern necessity of preserving my incognito hindered me from treating her as she deserved; and, even then, it cost me an effort to keep my place. As I continued to watch them. I could see that the young girl cowered beneath the threats of this bold bawdril, who had in some way gained an ascendancy over her—perhaps appointed by Stebbins to act in the double capacity of spy and guardian? Notwithstanding the horrid imaginings to which the woman’s presence had given rise, I succeeded in smothering my wrath, and remaining silent. My good star was guiding me; and soon after I was rewarded for the act of prudence.“Say, gal!” continued the mulatta, still addressing herself to Lilian, “wha for you sittin’ down dar, gazin’ into da water? S’pose you tink you see him shadda dar? Yah, yah, yah!”“Whose shadow?” innocently inquired the girl. I trembled while listening for the reply. “O Lordy! you berry innocent gal, make ’pear! S’pose I no see you write him name in dat ere book you got? S’pose I no see you make him letter in de sand, wha we camp on Akansaw? You scratch am name ebberywha; you got um on de big box inside Mass’ Stebbins’s waggon. Ha! you better no let Mass’ Stebbins see him name dar!”I would at that instant have given my horse for a glance at either box or book. But in another moment the necessity was gone; and the revelation, though made by polluted lips, was not the less welcome to my ears. What cared I whether the oracle was profane, so long as its response echoed my most earnest desires?“S’pose nobody read but youseff?” continued the mulatta, in the same jeering tone. “S’pose nobody know what E.W. stand for? yah, yah! S’pose dat ere don’t mean Edwa’d Wa’ffeld? eh missy yella bar—dat him name?” The young girl made no reply; but the crimson disc became widely suffused over her cheek. With a secret joy I beheld its blushing extension. “Yah, yah, yah!” continued her tormentor, “you may see um shadda in da water—dat all you ebba see ob Edwa’d Wa’ffeld. Whoebbar dat ere coon may be, you nebbar set you’ eyes on him ’gain—nebba!” A dark shade quickly overcast the crimson, betokening that the words gave pain. My pleasure was in like proportion, but inversely. “You fool, missy’ golding har? you’ better gone ’long wi’ de young dragoon offica who want take you—dat am, if you must had man all to youseff. Yah, yah, yah! Nebba mind, gal! you get husban’ yet. Mass’ Stebbins he find you husban’—he got one for you a’ready—waitin’ dar in de Mormon city; you soon see! Husban’ got fifty odder wife! Yah, yah, yah!”Words appeared upon the lips of Lilian—low murmured and but half uttered. I could not make out what they were; but they appeared not to be a reply to the speeches that had been addressed to her. Rather were they the involuntary accompaniment to an expression of peculiar anguish, that at that moment revealed itself on her features. The mulatta did not seem either to expect, or care for an answer: for on giving utterance to the fiendish insinuation, she turned upon her slippered heels, and hobbled back towards the camp. I held my face averted as she was passing near where I stood. I feared that she might be attracted to stop and examine me; and I had a motive for wishing her to keep on. Her curiosity, however, did not appear to be very excitable. Such as it was, it evolved itself in a comic fashion—as I could tell by the coarse “Yah, yah, yah!” that broke from her as she passed me. I could perceive by the receding of the sound, that she had gone on without stopping. Lilian followed at a distance of about ten paces. Her body was bent to one side by the weight of the water-can; while her long golden-hair, falling in confusion over the straining arm, almost swept the sward at her feet. The toilsome attitude only displayed in greater perfection the splendid development of that feminine form—which death alone could now hinder me from calling my own.I had already planned my course of action. I only waited for an opportunity to carry it out. No longer desired I to remain unrecognised by her. The barrier that had hitherto restrained me from giving sign or word—and that would still have continued to do so—had now been removed, happily as unexpectedly. In my heart, now filled and thrilling with joy, there was no motive for further concealment; and I resolved at once to declare myself. Not openly, however; not by speech, nor yet by gesture. Either might provoke an exclamation; and draw upon us prying eyes that were observing at no great distance. As stated, I had already shaped out my course; and, for a minute or more, had been waiting for the very opportunity that now offered.During the conversation above detailed, I had not been an inactive listener. I had taken from my pocket a scrap of paper, and pencilled upon it three simple words. I knew the paper on which I was writing: it was the half-leaf of a letter well-remembered. The letter itself was not there: it was within the folds of my pocket-book; but there was writing on the fly-leaf, and on both faces of it. On one side were those cherished verses, whose sweet simple strain, still vibrating upon the chords of my heart, I cannot help repeating:“I think of thee, when Morning springsFrom sleep, with plumage bathed in dew,And like a young bird lifts her wingsOf gladness on the welkin blue.And when at Noon the breath of loveO’er flower and stream is wandering free,And sent in music from the grove,I think of thee - I think of thee!“I think of thee, when soft and wideThe Evening spreads her robe of light;And, like a young and timid bride,Sits blushing in the arms of night.And when the moon’s sweet crescent springsIn light o’er heaven’s deep waveless sea;And stars are forth like blessed things,I think of thee - I think of thee!”“O sir! it is very, very true! I do think of you; and I am sure I shall do so as long as I live.“Lilian Holt.”On the reverse side of the page I had penned, or rather pencilled, a response. Not then, but in an idle hour by the way: with the presentiment, that it might some time reach the hands of her for whom it was intended. In those hands I was now determined to place it—leaving the issue to the cipher itself. The answer ran thus:To Lilian.“As music sweet, thy gentle layHath found an echo in my heart;At morn, at eve, by night, by day,’Tis never from my thoughts apart:I hear the strain in every breezeThat blows o’er flower, and leaf, and tree;Low murmuring, the birds and beesAll seem to sing - I think of thee!“Perhaps, of me no more a thoughtLingers within thy bosom blest:For time and absence both are fraughtWith danger to the lover’s rest?O Lilian! if thy gentlest breathShould whisper that sad truth to me,My heart would soon be cold in death—Though dying, still ’twould think of thee!”“Edward Warfield,The Indian Hunter.”The words at the moment added were those appended to my own name—which I had introduced to aid in the recognition. However inappropriate might be the scheme for making myself known, I had no time to conceive any other. The interruption caused by the mulatta had hindered me from a verbal declaration, which otherwise I might have made; and there was no longer an opportunity for the periphrasis of speech. Even a word might betray me. Under this apprehension, I resolved to remain silent; and watch for the occasion when I might effect the secret conveyance of the paper.As the young girl drew near, I stepped towards her—pointing to my lips, and making sign that I wished to drink. The action did not alarm her. On the contrary, she stopped; and, smiling kindly on the thirsty savage, offered the can—raising it up before her. I took the vessel in my hands, holding the little billet conspicuous between my stained fingers. Conspicuous only to her: for from all other eyes the can concealed it—even from those of the bizarreduenna, who had faced round and was still standing near. Not a word escaped me, as I pretended to drink. I only nodded towards the paper as I raised the vessel to my lips.Ah! that weird instinct of a woman’s heart—a woman who loves! How pleasant to watch its subtle play, when we know that it is exerted in our favour! I saw not the action, nor yet the emotion that may have been depicted on that radiant face. My eyes were averted. I dared not trust them to watch the effect. I only knew that the can was taken from my hands—the paper along with it; and, like a dream, the fair water-carrier passed from before me—leaving me alone upon the spot! My eyes followed the receding form, now side by side with that of the chiding guardian. Together they entered the corral—Lilian upon the nearer side; but, as the maiden’s face disappeared behind the sombre shadow of the waggons, a glance given back through those shining tresses convinced me that my scheme had succeeded!
“Good lor, gal! wha you doin’ down da? You know Mass’ Holt an’ Mass’ Stebbins want dar coffee? Why ain’t you done fotch de water?”
I faced round on hearing the voice. The tone and patois had already admonished me that the speaker was neither white nor Indian, but of that third typical race that mingles in the social life of the transatlantic world—an African. The harsh accentuation had prepared me for the appearance of a man and a negro; but, on turning, I perceived that I was mistaken—both as to the sex and colour. In the speaker I beheld amulatto—a yellow woman of large size—gross, corpulent, and greasy. Her dress was a light-coloured muslin print—negligently open at the breast, and garnished with gaudy ribbons, from which freely protruded the mountainous masses of her bosom. On her head was atoqueof checked “bandana,” folded over the black corkscrew ringlets, that scarce reached so low as her ears; while ungartered stockings upon her ankles, and slipshod shoes upon her feet, completed thetout ensembleof her costume. Notwithstanding thenegligévisible in her apparel, there were signs of conceit as to personal appearance. The fashion and trimmings were not in keeping with that of her tabooed race; and in the set of thetoquethere was a certain air of coquetry. The features, small and regular, might have once passed for handsome; but they were now nearly eliminated by her obese condition, which produced a disproportionate rotundity of face. The eyes, moreover, had lost all loveliness, if ever they had been endowed with such an expression. Their glance, in its brightest day, could have been only animal. It was still sufficiently sensual; but sensuality of a sullen and leering character. The voice of this woman had already produced an unpleasant effect upon me; so, too, the words spoken. The sight of her, as she stood “akimbo,” her hands resting upon her enormous haunches, only strengthened the sinister impression, which was still further confirmed by my observing that it had caused a similar effect elsewhere—upon Lilian! Even over that radiant countenance I could see that a cloud had stolen, and continued to shadow it!
“Say, gal! wha you doin’ dar, anyhow? You fill dat pail double-quick, or, golly, you catch it!” A threat! Lilian listens to it, and obeys!
“I am coming, Aunt Lucy!” replied the girl, in a trembling voice, at the same time hastening to fill the water-can.
I was in hopes that this conciliatory answer would send the mulatta back into the corral. To my chagrin, it produced a result directly the reverse; for, on hearing it, the woman came waddling down in rapid strides towards the river. She made direct for the spot where Lilian was filling the can; and by her quick, nervous gestures, and the lurid light flashing in her half-buried eyes, I could perceive that some hideous passion was stirring within her. Lilian had already perceived that she was approaching, and stood waiting for her—evidently in awe! When within a few paces of the girl, the fat fury opened speech upon her—and in a tone as vindictive as the sound of her voice was harsh and grating.
“Wha for, gal, you call meAuntLucy? Wha for you say dat? Dam! you call me so ’gain, I jab you eyes out. Sure I live, I gouge you!”
The monster, as she spoke, stretched out her hand, bending the thumb with a significant gesture.
She continued in the same spiteful tone:—“I tear you’ har you so conceit’ ’bout—you’ golding har, folks call. Piff! you’ har da colour ob yella squash. I pull um out o’ you’ head in fistful, you call meAuntLucy ’gain.”
“I did not know it would offend you,” replied the young girl, in a meek voice. “Do not the others call you by that name?” she inquired hesitatingly. “Mr Stebbins does so?”
“Nebba you mind what Mass’ Stabbins he do; da’s my affair. You hab a careyouno call me so. Da’s my affair, too. Jes you sayAuntLucy ’gain, I soon spoil you’ beauty, buckra gal.”
“I shall not do so again, Lucy,” timidly rejoined the young girl.
“MissLucy, you please. Don’t you tink you still in Tennessee! You’ know better bye ’n bye. Yella woman out heer good as white—marry white man all same—all same ’mong da Mormons—yah, yah, yah!”
A leer towards Lilian accompanied this laughter, rendering its hideous significance more palpably expressive. So provoked was I by the brutal behaviour of the yellow wench, I could scarcely restrain myself from rushing up, and kicking her over the bank upon which she was standing. Nothing but the stern necessity of preserving my incognito hindered me from treating her as she deserved; and, even then, it cost me an effort to keep my place. As I continued to watch them. I could see that the young girl cowered beneath the threats of this bold bawdril, who had in some way gained an ascendancy over her—perhaps appointed by Stebbins to act in the double capacity of spy and guardian? Notwithstanding the horrid imaginings to which the woman’s presence had given rise, I succeeded in smothering my wrath, and remaining silent. My good star was guiding me; and soon after I was rewarded for the act of prudence.
“Say, gal!” continued the mulatta, still addressing herself to Lilian, “wha for you sittin’ down dar, gazin’ into da water? S’pose you tink you see him shadda dar? Yah, yah, yah!”
“Whose shadow?” innocently inquired the girl. I trembled while listening for the reply. “O Lordy! you berry innocent gal, make ’pear! S’pose I no see you write him name in dat ere book you got? S’pose I no see you make him letter in de sand, wha we camp on Akansaw? You scratch am name ebberywha; you got um on de big box inside Mass’ Stebbins’s waggon. Ha! you better no let Mass’ Stebbins see him name dar!”
I would at that instant have given my horse for a glance at either box or book. But in another moment the necessity was gone; and the revelation, though made by polluted lips, was not the less welcome to my ears. What cared I whether the oracle was profane, so long as its response echoed my most earnest desires?
“S’pose nobody read but youseff?” continued the mulatta, in the same jeering tone. “S’pose nobody know what E.W. stand for? yah, yah! S’pose dat ere don’t mean Edwa’d Wa’ffeld? eh missy yella bar—dat him name?” The young girl made no reply; but the crimson disc became widely suffused over her cheek. With a secret joy I beheld its blushing extension. “Yah, yah, yah!” continued her tormentor, “you may see um shadda in da water—dat all you ebba see ob Edwa’d Wa’ffeld. Whoebbar dat ere coon may be, you nebbar set you’ eyes on him ’gain—nebba!” A dark shade quickly overcast the crimson, betokening that the words gave pain. My pleasure was in like proportion, but inversely. “You fool, missy’ golding har? you’ better gone ’long wi’ de young dragoon offica who want take you—dat am, if you must had man all to youseff. Yah, yah, yah! Nebba mind, gal! you get husban’ yet. Mass’ Stebbins he find you husban’—he got one for you a’ready—waitin’ dar in de Mormon city; you soon see! Husban’ got fifty odder wife! Yah, yah, yah!”
Words appeared upon the lips of Lilian—low murmured and but half uttered. I could not make out what they were; but they appeared not to be a reply to the speeches that had been addressed to her. Rather were they the involuntary accompaniment to an expression of peculiar anguish, that at that moment revealed itself on her features. The mulatta did not seem either to expect, or care for an answer: for on giving utterance to the fiendish insinuation, she turned upon her slippered heels, and hobbled back towards the camp. I held my face averted as she was passing near where I stood. I feared that she might be attracted to stop and examine me; and I had a motive for wishing her to keep on. Her curiosity, however, did not appear to be very excitable. Such as it was, it evolved itself in a comic fashion—as I could tell by the coarse “Yah, yah, yah!” that broke from her as she passed me. I could perceive by the receding of the sound, that she had gone on without stopping. Lilian followed at a distance of about ten paces. Her body was bent to one side by the weight of the water-can; while her long golden-hair, falling in confusion over the straining arm, almost swept the sward at her feet. The toilsome attitude only displayed in greater perfection the splendid development of that feminine form—which death alone could now hinder me from calling my own.
I had already planned my course of action. I only waited for an opportunity to carry it out. No longer desired I to remain unrecognised by her. The barrier that had hitherto restrained me from giving sign or word—and that would still have continued to do so—had now been removed, happily as unexpectedly. In my heart, now filled and thrilling with joy, there was no motive for further concealment; and I resolved at once to declare myself. Not openly, however; not by speech, nor yet by gesture. Either might provoke an exclamation; and draw upon us prying eyes that were observing at no great distance. As stated, I had already shaped out my course; and, for a minute or more, had been waiting for the very opportunity that now offered.
During the conversation above detailed, I had not been an inactive listener. I had taken from my pocket a scrap of paper, and pencilled upon it three simple words. I knew the paper on which I was writing: it was the half-leaf of a letter well-remembered. The letter itself was not there: it was within the folds of my pocket-book; but there was writing on the fly-leaf, and on both faces of it. On one side were those cherished verses, whose sweet simple strain, still vibrating upon the chords of my heart, I cannot help repeating:
“I think of thee, when Morning springsFrom sleep, with plumage bathed in dew,And like a young bird lifts her wingsOf gladness on the welkin blue.And when at Noon the breath of loveO’er flower and stream is wandering free,And sent in music from the grove,I think of thee - I think of thee!“I think of thee, when soft and wideThe Evening spreads her robe of light;And, like a young and timid bride,Sits blushing in the arms of night.And when the moon’s sweet crescent springsIn light o’er heaven’s deep waveless sea;And stars are forth like blessed things,I think of thee - I think of thee!”
“I think of thee, when Morning springsFrom sleep, with plumage bathed in dew,And like a young bird lifts her wingsOf gladness on the welkin blue.And when at Noon the breath of loveO’er flower and stream is wandering free,And sent in music from the grove,I think of thee - I think of thee!“I think of thee, when soft and wideThe Evening spreads her robe of light;And, like a young and timid bride,Sits blushing in the arms of night.And when the moon’s sweet crescent springsIn light o’er heaven’s deep waveless sea;And stars are forth like blessed things,I think of thee - I think of thee!”
“O sir! it is very, very true! I do think of you; and I am sure I shall do so as long as I live.
“Lilian Holt.”
On the reverse side of the page I had penned, or rather pencilled, a response. Not then, but in an idle hour by the way: with the presentiment, that it might some time reach the hands of her for whom it was intended. In those hands I was now determined to place it—leaving the issue to the cipher itself. The answer ran thus:
To Lilian.
“As music sweet, thy gentle layHath found an echo in my heart;At morn, at eve, by night, by day,’Tis never from my thoughts apart:I hear the strain in every breezeThat blows o’er flower, and leaf, and tree;Low murmuring, the birds and beesAll seem to sing - I think of thee!“Perhaps, of me no more a thoughtLingers within thy bosom blest:For time and absence both are fraughtWith danger to the lover’s rest?O Lilian! if thy gentlest breathShould whisper that sad truth to me,My heart would soon be cold in death—Though dying, still ’twould think of thee!”
“As music sweet, thy gentle layHath found an echo in my heart;At morn, at eve, by night, by day,’Tis never from my thoughts apart:I hear the strain in every breezeThat blows o’er flower, and leaf, and tree;Low murmuring, the birds and beesAll seem to sing - I think of thee!“Perhaps, of me no more a thoughtLingers within thy bosom blest:For time and absence both are fraughtWith danger to the lover’s rest?O Lilian! if thy gentlest breathShould whisper that sad truth to me,My heart would soon be cold in death—Though dying, still ’twould think of thee!”
“Edward Warfield,The Indian Hunter.”
The words at the moment added were those appended to my own name—which I had introduced to aid in the recognition. However inappropriate might be the scheme for making myself known, I had no time to conceive any other. The interruption caused by the mulatta had hindered me from a verbal declaration, which otherwise I might have made; and there was no longer an opportunity for the periphrasis of speech. Even a word might betray me. Under this apprehension, I resolved to remain silent; and watch for the occasion when I might effect the secret conveyance of the paper.
As the young girl drew near, I stepped towards her—pointing to my lips, and making sign that I wished to drink. The action did not alarm her. On the contrary, she stopped; and, smiling kindly on the thirsty savage, offered the can—raising it up before her. I took the vessel in my hands, holding the little billet conspicuous between my stained fingers. Conspicuous only to her: for from all other eyes the can concealed it—even from those of the bizarreduenna, who had faced round and was still standing near. Not a word escaped me, as I pretended to drink. I only nodded towards the paper as I raised the vessel to my lips.
Ah! that weird instinct of a woman’s heart—a woman who loves! How pleasant to watch its subtle play, when we know that it is exerted in our favour! I saw not the action, nor yet the emotion that may have been depicted on that radiant face. My eyes were averted. I dared not trust them to watch the effect. I only knew that the can was taken from my hands—the paper along with it; and, like a dream, the fair water-carrier passed from before me—leaving me alone upon the spot! My eyes followed the receding form, now side by side with that of the chiding guardian. Together they entered the corral—Lilian upon the nearer side; but, as the maiden’s face disappeared behind the sombre shadow of the waggons, a glance given back through those shining tresses convinced me that my scheme had succeeded!