Before proceeding further, we will say in a few words what was the political situation of Texas at the moment when the story we have undertaken to tell took place.
During the Spanish domination, the Texans claimed their liberty, arms in hand; but after various successes, they were definitively crushed at the battle of Medina, on August 13th, 1815, a fatal date, by Colonel Arredondo, commanding the regiment of Estremadura, who was joined by the Militia of the State of Cohahuila. From that period up to the second Mexican Revolution, Texas remained bowed beneath the intolerable yoke of the military regime, and left defenceless to the incessant attacks of the Comanche Indians.
The United States had on many occasions raised claims to that country, declaring that the natural frontiers of Mexico and the Confederation were the Rio Bravo; but compelled in 1819 to allow ostensibly that their claims were not founded, they employed roundabout means to seize on this rich territory, and incorporate it in their borders.
It was at that time they displayed that astute and patiently Machiavellian policy, which finally led to their triumph.
In 1821, the first American emigrants made their appearance, timidly, and almost incognito, on the brazos, clearing the land, colonizing secretly, and becoming in a few years so powerful, that in 1824 they had made sufficient progress to form a compact mass of nearly 50,000 individuals. The Mexicans, incessantly occupied in struggling one against the other in their interminable civil wars, did not understand the purport of the American immigration, which they encouraged at the outset.
Hardly eight years had elapsed since the arrival of the first Americans in Texas, when they formed nearly the entire population.
The Washington Cabinet no longer concealed its intentions, and spoke openly of buying from the Mexicans the territory of Texas, in which the Spanish element had almost entirely disappeared, to make room for the daring and mercantile spirit of the Anglo-Saxons.
The Mexican Government, at last aroused from its long lethargy, understood the danger that threatened it from the double invasion of the inhabitants of Missouri and Texas into the State of Santa Fé. It tried to arrest the American emigration, but it was too late; the law passed by the Mexican Congress was powerless, and the colonization was not arrested, in spite of the Mexican military posts scattered along the border, with orders to turn the immigrants back.
General Bustamante, President of the Republic, seeing that he would soon have to fight with the Americans, silently prepared for the conflict, and sent under different pretexts to Red River and the Sabina various bodies of troops, which presently attained to the number of 1200 men.
Still, everything remained quiet apparently; and nothing evidenced the period when the struggle would commence, which a perfidy on the part of the Governor of the Eastern provinces caused to break out at the moment when least expected.
The facts were as follow:—
The Commandant of Anahuac arrested and put in prison several American colonists, without any plausible grounds.
The Texans had hitherto patiently endured the innumerable vexations which the Mexican officers made them undergo, but at this last abuse of force they rose as if by one accord, and went under arms to the Commandant, demanding with threats and angry shouts the immediate liberation of their fellow-citizens.
The Commandant, too weak to resist openly, feigned to grant what was asked of him, but represented that he required two days to fulfil certain formalities, and cover his own responsibility.
The insurgents granted this delay, by which the Commandant profited to send in all haste to the Nacogdoches garrison to help him.
This garrison arrived at the moment when the insurgents, confiding on the Governor's promise, were with-drawing.
Furious at having been so perfidiously deceived, the latter returned and made such an energetic demonstration that the Mexican officer considered himself fortunate in escaping a fight by surrendering his prisoners.
At this period, a pronunciamento in favour of Santa Anna hurled General Bustamante from power to the cry of "Long live the Federation!"
Texas was extremely afraid of the system of centralization, from which it would never have obtained the recognition of its independence as a separate State, and hence the people were unanimous for Federalism.
The colonists rose, and joining the insurgents of Anahuac who were still under arms, marched resolutely on Fort Velasco, to which they laid siege.
The rallying cry was still "Long live the Federation!" But this time it concealed the cry of Independence, which the Texans were as yet too weak to raise.
Fort Velasco was defended by a small Mexican garrison, commanded by a brave officer of the name of Ugartechea.
During this extraordinary siege, in which the assailants only replied to the cannon with rifle bullets, both Texans and Mexicans performed prodigies of valour and displayed extraordinary obstinacy.
The colonists, skilful marksmen, hidden behind enormous barricades, fired as at a mark, and killed the Mexican gunners whenever they showed themselves to load their guns. Matters reached such a point that the Commandant, seeing his bravest soldiers fall round him, devoted himself and set to work as artilleryman. Struck by this heroic courage, the Texans, who could have killed the brave Commandant twenty times, ceased their fire, and Ugartechea at length surrendered, giving up a defence which was henceforth impossible.
The success filled the colonists with joy, but Santa Anna was not deceived as to the object of the Texan insurrection; he understood that federalism concealed a well-devised revolutionary movement, and far from trusting to the apparent devotion of the colonists, so soon as his power was sufficiently strengthened to allow him to act energetically against them, he sent off Colonel Mexia with four hundred men, to reestablish in Texas the greatly shaken Mexican authority.
After many hesitations and diplomatic dodges, which had no possible result with parties, both of which employed perfidy as their chief weapon, the war at length broke out furiously; a committee of public safety was organized at San Felipe, and the people were called upon to take part in the struggle.
The civil war, however, had not yet officially broken out, when the man at length appeared who was destined to decide the fate of Texas, and for whom the glory of liberating it was reserved—we allude to Samuel Houston.
From this moment the timid and purposeless insurrection of Texas became a revolution. Still the Mexican government remained apparently the legitimate master of the colony, and the colonists were naturally denominated insurgents, and treated as such, when they fell into the hands of their enemies; that is to say, they were without trial hung, drowned, or shot, according as the spot where they were captured suited one of these three modes of death.
At the period when our story opens, the exasperation against the Mexicans and the enthusiasm for the noble cause of Independence had reached their acme.
About three weeks previously, a serious engagement had taken place between the garrison of Bejar and a detachment of Texan volunteers, commanded by Austin, one of the most renowned Chiefs of the insurgents; in spite of their inferiority in numbers and ignorance of military tactics, the colonists fought so bravely, and worked their solitary gun so skilfully, that the Mexican troops, after undergoing serious losses, were compelled to retreat precipitately on Bejar.
This action was the first on the west of Texas after the capture of Fort Velasco; it decided the revolutionary movement which ran through the country like a train of gunpowder.
On all sides the towns raised troops to join the army of liberation; resistance was organized on a grand scale and bold Guerilla Chiefs began traversing the country in every direction, making war on their own account, and serving after their fashion the cause they embraced and which they were supposed to be defending.
Captain Don Juan Melendez, surrounded by enemies the more dangerous because it was impossible for him to know their numbers or guess their movements; entrusted with an extreme delicate mission; having at each step a prescience of treachery incessantly menacing, though ignorant where, when, or how it would burst on him; was compelled to employ extreme precautions and a merciless severity, if he wished to get safe home the precious charge confided to him; hence he had not hesitated before the necessity of instituting an example by roughly punishing Padre Antonio.
For a long time past, grave suspicions had been gathering over the monk; his ambiguous conduct had aroused distrust, and caused presumptions in no way favourable to his honesty.
Don Juan had determined to clear up his doubts at the first opportunity that offered; we have stated in what way he had succeeded by springing a countermine, that is to say, by having the spy watched by others more skilful than himself, and catching him almost red-handed.
Still, we must do the worthy monk the justice of declaring that his conduct had not the slightest political motive; his thoughts were not so elevated as that; knowing that the Captain was entrusted with the charge of a conducta de plata, he had only tried to draw him into a trap, for the sake of having a share in the plunder, and making his fortune at a stroke, in order that he might enjoy those indulgences he had hitherto gone without; his ideas did not extend further, the worthy man was simply a highway robber, but there was nothing of the politician about him.
We will leave him for the present to follow the two hunters to whom he was indebted for the rude chastisement he received, and who quitted the camp immediately after the execution of the sentence.
These two men went off at a great speed, and, after descending the hill, buried themselves in a thick wood, where two magnificent prairie horses, half-tamed Mustangs, with flashing eye and delicate limbs, were quietly browsing, while waiting for their riders; they were saddled in readiness for mounting.
After unfastening the hobbles, the hunters put the bits in their mouths, mounted, and digging in their spurs, started at a sharp gallop.
They rode for a long distance, bent over their horses' necks, following no regular path, but going straight on, caring little for the obstacles they met on their passage, and which they cleared with infinite skill; about an hour before sunrise they at length stopped.
They had reached the entrance of a narrow gorge, flanked on both sides by lofty wooded hills, the spurs of the mountains, whose denuded crests seemed from their proximity to hang over the landscape. The hunters dismounted before entering the gorge, and after hobbling their horses, which they hid in a clump of floripondios, they began exploring the neighbourhood with the care and sagacity of Indian warriors seeking booty on the war-trail.
Their researches remained for a long time sterile, which could easily be perceived from the exclamations of disappointment they every now and then vented in a low voice: at length, after two hours, the first beams of the sun dissipated the darkness, and they perceived some almost imperceptible traces which made them start with joy.
Probably feeling now liberated from the anxiety that tormented them, they returned to their horses, lay down on the ground, and after fumbling in their alforjas, drew from them the materials for a modest breakfast, to which they did honour with the formidable appetite of men who have spent the whole night in the saddle, riding over mountains and valleys.
Since their departure from the Mexican camp the hunters had not exchanged a syllable, apparently acting under the influence of a dark preoccupation, which rendered any conversation unnecessary.
In fact, the silence of men accustomed to desert life is peculiar; they pass whole days without uttering a word, only speaking when necessity obliges them, and generally substituting for oral language that language of signs which, in the first place, has the incontestable advantage of not betraying the presence of those who employ it to the ears of invisible enemies constantly on the watch, and ready to leap, like birds of prey, on the imprudent persons who allow themselves to be surprised.
When the hunters' appetite was appeased, the one whom the Captain called John lit his short pipe, placed it in the corner of his month, and, handed the tobacco-pouch to his comrade.
"Well, Sam," he said in a low voice, as if afraid of being overheard, "I fancy we have succeeded, eh?"
"I think so too, John," Sam replied with a nod of affirmation; "you are deucedly clever, my boy."
"Nonsense," the other said disdainfully; "there is no merit in deceiving those brutes of Spaniards; they are stupid as bustards."
"No matter, the Captain fell into the hole in a glorious way."
"Hum! it was not he I was afraid of; for he and I have been good friends for a long time; but it was the confounded monk."
"Eh, eh, if he had not arrived just in time, he would probably have spoiled our fun; what is your opinion, John?"
"I think you are right, Sam. By Jabers, I laughed at seeing him writhe under the chicote."
"It was certainly a glorious sight; but are you not afraid that he may avenge himself? these monks are devilishly spiteful."
"Bah! what have we to fear from such vermin? He will never dare to look us in the face."
"No matter, we had better be on our guard. Our trade is a queer one, as you know, and it is very possible that some day or other this accursed animal may play us an ugly trick."
"Don't bother about him; what we did was all fair in war. Be assured that, under similar circumstances, the monk would not have spared us."
"That is true; so let him go to the deuce; the more so as the prey we covet could not be in a better situation for us. I should never pardon myself if I let it escape."
"Shall we remain here in ambush?"
"That is the safest way; we shall have time to rejoin our comrades when we see the recua enter the plain; and, besides, have we not to meet somebody here?"
"That is true, I forgot it."
"And stay, when you speak of the devil—here is our man."
The hunters rose quickly, seized their rifles, and hid themselves behind a rock, so as to be ready for any event.
The rapid gallop of a horse became audible, approaching nearer and nearer; ere long a rider emerged from the gorge, and pulled up calmly and haughtily at about two paces from the hunters.
The latter rushed from their ambuscade, and advanced toward him, with the right arm extended, and the palm of the hand open in sign of peace.
The horseman, who was an Indian warrior, responded to these pacific demonstrations by letting his buffalo robe float out; then he dismounted, and without further ceremony, shook the hands offered him.
"You are welcome, Chief," John said; "we were awaiting you impatiently."
"My Pale brothers can look at the sun," the Indian answered; "Blue-fox is punctual."
"That is true, Chief; there is nothing to be said, for you are remarkably punctual."
"Time waits for no man; warriors are not women; Blue-fox would like to hold a council with his Pale brothers."
"Be it so," John went on: "your observation is just. Chief, so let us deliberate; I am anxious to come to a definitive understanding with you."
The Indian bowed gravely to the speaker, sat down, lit his pipe, and, began smoking with evident pleasure; the hunters took seats by his side, and, like him, remained silent during the whole period their tobacco lasted.
At length, the Chief shook the ashes out of the bowl on his thumbnail, and prepared to speak.
At the same instant a detonation was heard, and a bullet cut away a branch just over the Chiefs head.
The three men leaped to their feet, and seizing their arms, prepared bravely to repulse the enemies who attacked them so suddenly.
Between the Larch-tree hacienda and the Venta del Potrero, just half way between the two places, or at about forty miles from either, two men were sitting on the banks of a nameless stream, and conversing, as they supped on pemmican and a few boiled camotes.
These two men were Tranquil, the Canadian, and Quoniam, the Negro.
About fifty yards from them, in a copse of brambles and shrubs, a young colt about two months old was fastened to the trunk of a gigantic catalpa. The poor animal, after making vain efforts to break the cord that held it, had at length recognised the inutility of its attempts, and had sorrowfully lain down on the ground.
The two men, whom we left young at the end of our prologue, had now reached the second half of life. Although age had got but a slight grasp on their iron bodies, a few grey hairs were beginning to silver the hunter's scalp, and wrinkles furrowed his face, which was bronzed by the changes of the seasons.
Still, with the exception of these slight marks, which serve as a seal to ripened age, nothing denoted any weakening in the Canadian; on the contrary, his eye was still bright, his body equally straight, and his limbs just as muscular.
As for the Negro, no apparent change had taken place in him, and he seemed as young as ever; he had merely grown lustier, but had lost none of his unparalleled activity.
The spot where the two wood rangers had camped was certainly one of the most picturesque on the prairie.
The midnight breeze had swept the sky, whose dark blue vault seemed studded with innumerable spangles of diamonds, in the midst of which the southern cross shone; the moon poured forth its white rays, which imparted to objects a fantastic appearance; the night had that velvety transparence peculiar to twilight; at each gust of wind the trees shook their damp heads, and rained a shower, which pattered on the shrubs.
The river flowed on calmly between its wooded banks, looking in the distance like a silver riband, and reflecting in its peaceful mirror the trembling rays of the moon, which had proceeded about two-thirds of its course.
So great was the silence of the desert, that the fall of a withered leaf, or the rustling of a branch agitated by the passage of a reptile, could be heard.
The two men were conversing in a low voice; but, singularly enough with men so habituated to desert life, their night encampment, instead of being, according to the invariable rules of the prairie, situated on the top of a hillock, was placed on the slope that descended gently to the river, and in the mud of which numerous footprints of more than a suspicious nature were encrusted, the majority belonging to the family of the great Carnivora.
In spite of the sharp cold of night, and the icy dew which made them tremble, the hunters had lit no fire; still they would assuredly have derived great comfort from warming their limbs over the genial flames; the Negro especially, who was lightly attired in drawers that left his legs uncovered, and a fragment of a zarapé, full of holes, was trembling all over.
Tranquil, who was more warmly attired in the garb of Mexican Campesinos, did not appear to notice the cold at all; with his rifle between his legs, he gazed out into the darkness, or listened to any sound perceptible to him alone, while he talked to the Negro, disdaining to notice either his grimaces or the chattering of his teeth.
"So," he said, "you did not see the little one to-day Quoniam?"
"No, no, I have not seen her for two days," the Negro answered.
The Canadian sighed.
"I ought to have gone myself," he went on; "the girl is very solitary there, especially now that war has let loose on this side all the adventurers and border-ruffians."
"Nonsense! Carmela has beak and nails; she would not hesitate to defend herself if insulted."
"Confusion!" the Canadian exclaimed, as he clutched his rifle, "If one of those Malvados dared to say a word—"
"Do not trouble yourself thus, Tranquil; you know very well that if any one ventured to insult the Querida Niña, she would not want for defenders. Besides, Lanzi never leaves her for a moment, and you are aware how faithful he is."
"Yes," the hunter muttered, "but Lanzi is only a man after all."
"You drive me to desperation with the ideas which so unreasonably get into your head."
"I love the girl, Quoniam."
"Hang it, and I love her too, the little darling! Well, if you like, after we have killed the jaguar, we will go to the Potrero—does that suit you?"
"It is a long way from here."
"Nonsense! three hours' ride at the most. By the bye, Tranquil, do you know that it is cold? And I am getting literally frozen; cursed animal! I wonder what it is doing at this moment; I daresay it is amusing itself with wandering about instead of coming straight here."
"To be killed, eh?" Tranquil said, with a smile. "Hang it all! Perhaps it suspects what we have in store for it."
"That is possible, for those confounded animals are so cunning. Hilloah! the colt is quivering—it has certainly scented something."
The Canadian turned his head.
"No, not yet," he said.
"We shall have a night of it," the Negro muttered, with an ill-tempered look.
"You will ever be the same, Quoniam—impatient and headstrong. Whatever I may tell you, you obstinately refuse to understand me; how many times have I repeated to you that the jaguar is one of the most cunning animals in existence? Although we are to windward, I feel convinced it has scented us. It is prowling cunningly around us, and afraid to come too near us; as you say, it is wandering about without any apparent object."
"Hum! Do you think it will carry on that game much longer?"
"No, because it must be beginning to grow thirsty; three feelings are struggling in it at this moment—hunger, thirst, and fear; fear will prove the weakest, you may be assured; and it is only a question of time."
"I can see it; for nearly four hours we have been on the watch."
"Patience; the worst is over, and we shall soon have some news, I feel assured."
"May Heaven hear you, for I am dying of cold; is it a large animal?"
"Yes, its prints are wide, but, if I am not greatly mistaken, it has paired."
"Do you think so?"
"I could almost bet it, it is impossible for a single jaguar to do so much mischief in less than a week; from what Don Hilario told me, it seems that ten head of the Ganada have disappeared."
"In that case," Quoniam said, rubbing his hands gleefully, "we shall have a fine hunt."
"That is what I suppose; and it must have whelps to come so near the hacienda."
At this moment a hoarse bellowing, bearing some slight resemblance to the miauling of a cat, troubled the profound silence of the desert.
"There is its first cry," said Quoniam.
"It is still a long way off."
"Oh, it will soon come nearer."
"Not yet; it is not after us at this moment."
"Who else, then?"
"Listen."
A similar cry to the first, but coming from the opposite side, burst forth at this moment.
"Did I not tell you," the Canadian continued, quietly, "that it had paired?"
"I did not doubt it. If you do not know the habits of tigers, who should?"
The poor colt had risen; it was trembling all over, half dead with terror, and with its head buried between its front legs, it was standing up and uttering little plaintive cries.
"Hum!" Quoniam said, "poor innocent brute, it understands that it is lost."
"I hope not."
"The jaguar will strangle it."
"Yes, if we do not kill the brute first."
"By Jabus!" the Negro said, "I confess I should not be sorry if that wretched colt escaped."
"It will do so," the hunter answered; "I have chosen it for Carmela."
"Nonsense! Then why did you bring it here?"
"To make it used to the tiger."
"Well, that is an idea! Then I need not look any longer over there?"
"No, only think of the jaguar which will come on your right, while I take charge of the other."
"That's agreed."
Two other louder roars burst forth almost simultaneously.
"The beast is thirsty," Tranquil remarked; "its anger is aroused, and it is coming nearer."
"Good! shall we get ready?"
"Wait a while, our enemies are hesitating; they have not yet reached that paroxysm of rage which makes them forget all prudence."
The Negro, who had risen, sat down again philosophically.
A few minutes passed thus. At intervals the night breeze, laden with uncertain rumour, passed over the hunters' heads, and was lost in the distance like a sigh.
They were calm and motionless, with the eye fixed on space, the ear open to the mysterious noises of the desert, the finger on the rifle-trigger, ready at the first signal to face the still invisible foe, whose approach and imminent attack they, however, instinctively divined.
All at once the Canadian started, and stooped down to the ground.
"Oh!" he said, as he rose with marks of terrible anxiety, "What is taking place in the forest?"
The roar of the tiger burst forth like a clap of thunder.
A horrible shriek responded to it, and the wild gallop of a horse was heard, approaching at headlong speed.
"Quick! Quick!" Tranquil shouted, "Someone is in danger of death—the tiger is on his trail."
The two hunters rushed intrepidly in the direction of the roars.
The whole forest seemed quivering; nameless sounds issued from the hidden lairs, resembling at one moment mocking laughter, at another cries of agony.
The hoarse miauling of the jaguars went on uninterruptedly. The gallop of the horses which the hunters heard at first seemed multiplied and issuing from opposite points.
The panting hunters still ran on in a straight line, bounding over ravines and morasses with wonderful speed; the terror they felt for the strangers whom they wished to help gave them wings.
Suddenly a shriek of agony, louder and more despairing than the former, was heard a short distance off.
"Oh!" Tranquil shouted, in a paroxysm of madness, "It is she! It is Carmela!"
And, bounding like a wild beast, he rushed forward, followed by Quoniam, who, during the whole wild race, had never left him a hair's breadth.
Suddenly a deadly silence fell over the desert—every noise, every rumour, ceased as if by enchantment, and nothing could be heard save the panting of the hunters, who still ran on.
A furious roar uttered by the tigers burst forth; a crashing of branches agitated an adjoining thicket, and an enormous mass, bounding from the top of the tree, passed over the Canadian's head and disappeared; at the same instant a flash burst through the gloom and a shot was heard, answered almost immediately by a roar of agony and a shriek of horror.
"Courage, Niña, courage!" a masculine voice exclaimed, a short distance off, "You are saved!"
The hunters, by a supreme effort of their will, increased their speed, which was already incredible, and at length entered the scene of action.
A strange and terrible sight then offered itself to their horror-stricken gaze.
In a small clearing a fainting woman was stretched out on the ground, by the side of a ripped-up horse, which was struggling in the final convulsions.
This female was motionless, and appeared to be dead.
Two young tigers, crouching like cats, fixed their ardent eyes upon her, and were preparing to attack her; a few paces further on a wounded tiger was writhing on the ground with horrid roars, and trying to leap on a man, who, with one knee on the ground, with his left arm enveloped in the numerous folds of a zarapé, and the right armed with a long machete, was resolutely awaiting its attack.
Behind the man, a horse, with outstretched neck, smoking nostrils and laid-back ears, was quivering with terror, while a second tiger, posted on the largest branch of a larch tree, fixed its burning glances on the dismounted rider, while lashing the air with its tail, and uttering hoarse miauls.
What we have taken so long to describe, the hunters saw at a glance; quick as lightning the bold adventurers selected their parts, with a look of sublime simplicity.
While Quoniam leaped on the tiger cubs, and seizing them by the scurf, dashed their brains out against a rock, Tranquil shouldered his rifle, and killed the tigress at the moment when she was leaping on the horseman. Then turning with marvellous speed he killed the second tiger with the butt of his rifle, and laid it stiff at his feet.
"Ah!" the hunter said, with a feeling of pride, as he rested his rifle on the ground, and wiped his forehead, which was bathed in a cold perspiration.
"She lives!" Quoniam shouted, who understood what agony his friend's exclamation contained; "Fear alone made her faint, but she is otherwise unhurt."
The hunter slowly took off his cap, and raised his eyes to heaven.
"Thanks, O God!" he murmured, with an accent of gratitude impossible to render.
In the meanwhile, the horseman, so miraculously saved by Tranquil, had walked up to him.
"I will do the same for you, some day," he said, as he held out his hand.
"It is I who am your debtor," the hunter answered, frankly; "had it not been for your sublime devotion, I should have arrived too late."
"I have done no more than another in my place."
"Perhaps so. Your name, brother?"
"Loyal Heart. Yours?"
"Tranquil. We are friends for life and death."
"I accept, brother. And now let us attend to this poor girl."
The two men shook hands for a second time, and went up to Carmela, on whom Quoniam was lavishing every imaginable attention, though unable to recall her from the profound faint into which she had fallen.
While Tranquil and Loyal Heart took the Negro´s place, the latter hastily collected a few dried branches and lit a fire.
After a few minutes, however, Carmela faintly opened her eyes, and was soon sufficiently recovered to explain the cause of her presence in the forest, instead of being quietly asleep in the Venta del Potrero.
This story, which, in consequence of the maiden's weakness, and the poignant emotions she had endured, it took her several hours to complete, we will tell the reader in a few words in the next chapter.
Carmela watched for a long time the Jaguar's irregular ride across country, and when he at length disappeared in the distance, in a clump of pine trees, she sadly bowed her head and re-entered the venta slowly and pensively.
"He hates him," she murmured, in a low, agitated voice; "he hates him. Will he be willing to save him?"
She fell into an equipal, and for some minutes remained plunged in a deep reverie.
At last she raised her head; a feverish flush covered her face, and her soft eyes seemed to emit flashes.
"I will save him!" she exclaimed, with supreme resolution.
After this exclamation she rose, and walking hurriedly across the room, opened the door leading into the corral.
"Lanzi?" she cried.
"Niña?" the half-breed replied, who was engaged at this moment in giving their alfalfa to two valuable horses belonging to the young lady, which were under his special charge.
"Come here."
"I will be with you in a moment."
Five minutes later at the most he appeared in the doorway.
"What do you want, señorita?" he said, with that calm obsequiousness habitual to servants who are spoiled by their masters; "I am very busy at this moment."
"That is possible, my good Lanzi," she answered softly; "but what I have to say to you admits of no delay."
"Oh, oh," he said, in a slightly suppressed tone, "what is the matter, then?"
"Nothing very extraordinary, my good man; everything in the venta is regular as usual. But I have a service to ask of you."
"Speak, señorita; you know that I am devoted to you."
"It is growing late, and it is probable that no traveller will arrive at the venta to-day."
The half-breed raised his head, and mentally calculated the position of the sun.
"I do not believe that any travellers will arrive to-day," he at length said, "for it is nearly four o'clock; still, they might come for all that."
"Nothing leads to the supposition."
"Nothing, indeed, señorita."
"Well, I wish you to shut up the venta."
"Shut up the venta! What for?"
"I will tell you."
"Is it really very important?"
"Very."
"Speak, then, Niña, I am all ears."
The maiden gave the half-breed, who was standing in front of her, a long and searching glance, leant her elbow gracefully on the table, and said, quietly—
"I am anxious, Lanzi."
"Anxious? What about?"
"At my father's long absence."
"Why, he was here hardly four days back."
"He never left me alone so long before."
"Still," the half-breed remarked, scratching his head with an embarrassed air—
"In a word," she interrupted him, resolutely, "I am anxious about my father, and wish to see him. You will close the venta, saddle the horses, and we will go to the Larch-tree hacienda; it is not far, and we shall be back in four or five hours."
"That will make it very late."
"The greater reason to start at once."
"Still—"
"No remarks; do as I order you—I insist on it."
The half-breed bowed without replying, for he knew that when his young mistress spoke thus he must obey.
The maiden walked forward a step, laid her white and delicate hand on the half-breed's shoulder, and putting her lovely face close to his, she added, with a gentle smile which made the poor fellow start with joy—
"Do not be vexed at my whim, my kind Lanzi, but I am suffering."
"Be vexed with you, Niña!" the half-breed answered with a significant shrug of his shoulders; "Why, do you not know that I would go into the fire for you? Much more, then, would I satisfy your slightest wish."
He then began carefully barricading the doors and windows of the venta, after which he proceeded to the corral to saddle the horses, while Carmela, suffering from nervous impatience, changed her attire for other clothes more convenient for the journey she designed, for she had deceived the old servant. It was not Tranquil she wished to find.
But Heaven had decreed that the plan she revolved in her pretty head should not succeed.
At the moment when she re-entered the sitting-room, fully dressed and ready to start, Lanzi appeared in the doorway of the corral with extreme agitation displayed in his face.
Carmela ran up to him eagerly, fancying that he had hurt himself.
"What is the matter with you?" she asked him, kindly.
"We are lost!" he replied, in a hollow voice, as he looked about him in terror.
"Lost!" she exclaimed, turning pallid as a corpse; "What do you mean?"
The half-breed laid a finger on his lip to command silence, made her a sign to follow him, and glided noiselessly into the corral.
Carmela followed him.
The corral was enclosed with a plank wall about six feet high; Lanzi went up to a spot where a wide cleft allowed a prospect of the plain.
"Look," he said to his mistress.
The girl obeyed, and laid her face against the plank.
Night was beginning to fall, and a denser shadow was each moment invading the plain. Still, the obscurity was not great enough to prevent Carmela distinguishing, about two hundred yards away, a numerous party of horsemen coming at full speed in the direction of the venta.
A glance sufficed the maiden to perceive that these horsemen were Indios Bravos.
The warriors, more than fifty in number, were in their full war paint; and as they bent over the necks of their horses, which were as untamable as themselves, they brandished their long lances over their heads with an air of defiance.
"These are Apaches," Carmela exclaimed, as she recoiled in terror. "How comes it that they have reached this place before we are warned of their arrival?"
The half-breed shook his head sadly.
"In a few minutes they will be here," he said; "what is to be done?"
"Defend ourselves!" the maiden replied, bravely; "They do not appear to have fire-arms. Behind the walls of our house we could easily hold out against them till daybreak."
"And then?" the half-breed asked, doubtfully.
"Then," she answered with exaltation, "Heaven will come to our aid."
"Amen!" the half-breed answered, less convinced than ever of the possibility of such a miracle.
"Make haste and bring down into the inn-room all the fire-arms we have; perhaps the heathens will fall back if they find themselves hotly received: and, after all, who knows whether they will attack us?"
"Hum! the demons are crafty, and know perfectly well how many persons dwell in this house. Do not expect that they will withdraw till they have carried it by storm."
"Well," she exclaimed, resolutely, "let us trust to Heaven; we shall die bravely fighting, instead of letting ourselves be captured like cowards, and becoming the slaves of those heartless and merciless villains."
"Be it so, then," the half-breed answered, electrified by his mistress's enthusiastic words, "we will fight. You know, señorita, that a combat does not terrify me. The pagans had better look out, for unless they take care, I may play them a trick they will remember for a long time."
This conversation broke off here for the present, owing to the necessity the speakers were under of preparing their means of defence, which they did with a speed and intelligence which proved that this was not the first time they found themselves in so critical a position.
The reader must not feel surprised at the virile heroism Carmela displayed under the present circumstances. On the border, where persons are incessantly exposed to the incursions of Indians and marauders of every description, the women fight by the side of the men, and forgetting the weakness of their sex, they can, on occasion, prove themselves as brave as their husbands and brothers.
Carmela was not mistaken, it was really a band of Indian Bravos coming up at a gallop, who soon reached the house, and completely surrounded it.
Usually the Indians in their expeditions proceed with extreme prudence, never showing themselves openly, and only advancing with great circumspection. This time it was easy to see that they believed themselves certain of success, and were perfectly well aware that the venta was stripped of its defenders.
On coming within twenty yards of the venta they stopped, dismounted, and seemed to be consulting for a moment.
Lanzi had profited by these few moments of respite to pile on the table all the weapons in the house, consisting of about a dozen rifles.
Although the doors and windows were barred, it was easy to follow the movements of the enemy through loopholes made at regular distances.
Carmela, armed with a rifle, had intrepidly stationed herself before the door, while the half-breed walked up and down anxiously, going out and coming in again, and apparently giving the last touch to an important and mysterious job.
"There," he said, a moment later, "that is all right; lay that rifle on the table again, señorita; we can only conquer those demons by stratagem, not by force, so leave me to act."
"What is your plan?"
"You will see. I have sawn two planks out of the enclosure of the corral; so soon as you hear me open the door, set off at full speed."
"But you?"
"Do not trouble yourself about me, but give your horse the spurs."
"I will not abandon you."
"Nonsense! No folly of that sort; I am old, my life only hangs by a thread, but yours is precious and must be saved; let me alone, I tell you."
"No, unless you tell me."
"I will tell you nothing. You will find Tranquil at the ford of the Venado; not a word more."
"Ah, that is it," she exclaimed; "well, I swear that I will not stir from your side, whatever may happen."
"You are mad; have I not told you I wished to play the Indians a famous trick?"
"Indeed!"
"Well, you will see. As, however, I fear some imprudence on your part, I wish to see you start before me, that is all."
"Are you speaking the truth?"
"Of course I am. In five minutes I shall have joined you again."
"Do you promise me, then?"
"Do you fancy I should find any fun in remaining here?"
"What do you intend doing?"
"Here are the Indians; begone, and do not forget to start at full gallop so soon as I open the door of the venta, and ride in the direction of the Venado ford."
"But I expect—"
"Begone, begone," he interrupted her quickly, as he pushed her toward the corral, "it is all settled."
The maiden unwillingly obeyed: but at this moment loud blows against the shutters were audible, and the half-breed profited by this demonstration of the Indians to close the door leading into the corral.
"I swore to Tranquil to protect her, whatever might happen," he muttered, "and I can only save her by desires for her. Well, I will die: but, Capa de Dios, I will have a fine funeral."
Fresh blows were dealt at the shutters, but with such violence that it was easy to see that they would be soon broken in.
"Who's there?" the half-breed asked quietly.
"Gente de paz," was the reply from without.
"Hum!" Lanzi said, "for peaceful people you have a singular way of announcing your presence."
"Open, open!" the voice outside repeated.
"I am very ready to do so, but what proves to me that you do not mean harm?"
"Open, or we will break down the door."
And the blows were renewed.
"Oh, oh," the half-breed said, "you are strong in the arms; do not trouble yourself further, I am going to open."
The blows ceased.
The half-breed unbarred the door, and opened it.
The Indians rushed into the interior with yells and howls of joy.
Lanzi slipped on one side to let them pass; he gave a start of joy on hearing a horse set out at full gallop.
The Indians paid no attention to this incident.
"Drink!" they shouted.
"What would you like to have?" the half-breed asked, seeking to gain time.
"Fire-water!" they yelled.
Lanzi hastened to serve them, and the orgy began.
Knowing they had nothing to fear from the inhabitants of the venta, the Redskins had rushed in so soon as the door was opened, without taking the precaution to post sentries; this negligence, on which Lanzi calculated, gave Carmela the opportunity of escaping unseen and undisturbed.
The Indians, and especially the Apaches, have a frenzied passion for strong liquors; the Comanches alone are teetotallers. Hitherto, they have succeeded in refraining from that mournful tendency to intoxication, which decimates and brutalizes their brothers.
Lanzi followed with a cunning look the evolutions of the Redskins, who crowded round the tables, drank deeply, and emptied the botas placed before them; their eyes were beginning to sparkle, their features were animated; they spoke loudly all at once, no longer knowing what they said, and only thinking about becoming intoxicated.
Suddenly the half-breed felt a hand laid on his shoulder.
He turned.
An Indian was standing with folded arms in front of him.
"What do you want?" he asked him.
"Blue-fox is a Chief," the Indian answered, "and has to speak with the Paleface."
"Is not Blue-fox satisfied with the way in which I have received him and his companions?"
"It is not that; the warriors are drinking, and the Chief wants something else."
"Ah," the half-breed said, "I am vexed, for I have given you all I had."
"No," the Indian replied drily.
"How so?"
"Where is the golden-haired girl?"
"I do not understand you, Chief," the half-breed said; on the contrary, understanding perfectly well.
The Indian smiled.
"The Paleface will look at Blue-fox," he said, "and will then see that he is a Chief, and not a child who can be put off with falsehoods. What has become of the girl with the golden hair, who lives here with my brother?"
"The person of whom you speak, if you mean the young lady to whom this house belongs—"
"Yes."
"Well! she is not here."
The Chief gave him a searching glance.
"The Paleface lies," he said.
"Look for her."
"She was here an hour ago."
"That is possible."
"Where is she?"
"Look."
"The Paleface is a dog whose scalp I will raise."
"Much good may it do you," the half-breed answered with a grin.
Unfortunately, while uttering these words, Lanzi gave a triumphant glance in the direction of the corral; the Chief caught it, rushed to the door, and uttered a yell of disappointment on seeing the hole in the palisade; the truth flashed upon him.
"Dog!" he yelled, and drawing his scalping knife, he hurled it furiously at his enemy.
But the latter, who was watching him, dodged the missile, which struck into the wall a few inches from his head.
Lanzi leaped over the bar, and rushed at Blue-fox.
The Indians rose tumultuously, and seizing their arms, bounded like wild beasts in pursuit of the half-breed.
The latter, on reaching the door of the corral, turned, fired his pistols among the crowd, leapt on his horse, and burying his spurs in its flanks, forced it to leap through the breach.
At the same moment a horrible noise was heard behind him, the earth trembled, and a confused mass of stones, beams, and fragments of every description fell around the rider and his horse, which was maddened with terror.
The Venta del Potrero was blown into the air, burying beneath its ruins the Apaches who had invaded it.
Such was the trick Lanzi had promised himself to play on the Indians.
We can now understand why he had insisted on Carmela setting off at full speed.
By a singular piece of good fortune, neither the half-breed nor his horse was wounded; the mustang, with foaming nostrils, flew over the prairie as if winged, incessantly urged on by its rider, who excited it with spur and force, for he fancied he could hear behind him the gallop of another horse in pursuit.
Unluckily the night was too dark for him to assure himself whether he were mistaken.
The reader will probably consider that the means employed by Lanzi to get rid of the Indians were somewhat violent, and that he should not have had recourse to them save in the utmost extremity.
The justification of the half-breed is as simple as it is easy to give; the Indian braves, when they cross the Mexican border, indulge mercilessly in every possible riot, displaying the greatest cruelty toward the unhappy white men who fall into their hands, and for whom they testify a hatred which nothing can assuage.
Lanzi's position, alone, without help to expect from anyone, in an isolated spot, in the power of some fifty demons without faith or law, was most critical; the more so, as the Apaches, once they had been excited by strong liquors, the abuse of which causes them a species of raving madness, would no longer have recognized any restraint; their sanguinary character would have regained the upper hand, and they would have indulged in the most unjustifiable cruelty, for the mere pleasure of making an enemy of their race suffer.
The half-breed had, besides, peremptory reasons for behaving thus; he must, at all risks, ensure Carmela's safety, whom he had solemnly sworn to Tranquil to defend, even at the peril of his own life.
In the present case, he knew that his life or death depended solely on the caprice of the Indians, and hence he was quite reckless.
Lanzi was a cold, positive, and methodical man, who never acted till he had previously fully weighed the chances of success or failure. Under present circumstances, the half-breed ran no risk, for he knew that he was condemned by the Indians beforehand; if his plan succeeded, he might possibly escape; if not, he could die, but as a brave borderer should do, taking with him into the tomb a considerable number of his implacable foes.
His resolution once formed, it was carried out with the coolness we have described, and, thanks to his presence of mind, he had found time to leap on his horse and fly.
Still, all was not finished yet, and the galloping the half-breed heard behind him disturbed him greatly, by proving to him that his plan had not succeeded so well as he hoped, and that one of his enemies, at any rate, had escaped, and was on his track.
The half-breed redoubled his speed; he made his horse swerve from the straight line incessantly, in order to throw out his obstinate pursuer; but everything was of no avail, and still he heard him galloping behind him.
However brave a man may be, however great the energy is with which heaven has endowed him, nothing affects his courage so much as to feel himself menaced in the darkness by an invisible and unassailable foe; the obscurity of night, the silence that broods over the desert, the trees which in his mad race defile on his right and left like a legion of gloomy and threatening phantoms—all this combines to heighten the terrors of the hapless man who dashes along under the impression of a nightmare which is the more horrible, because he is conscious of danger, and knows not how to exorcise it.
Lanzi, with frowning brow, quivering lips, and forehead bathed with cold perspiration, rode thus for several hours across country, bowed over his horse's neck, following no settled course, but constantly pursued by the dry, sharp sound of the horse galloping after him.
Strangely enough, since he first heard this gallop, it had not appeared to draw any nearer; it might be thought that the strange horseman, satisfied with following the trail of the man he pursued, was not desirous of catching him up.
By degrees the half-breed's excitement calmed: the cold night air restored a little order to his ideas, his coolness returned, and with it the necessary clearness to judge of his position soundly.
Lanzi was ashamed of this puerile terror, so unworthy of a man like himself, which had for so long, through a selfish feeling, caused him to forget the sacred duty he had taken on himself, of protecting and defending at the peril of his life his friend's daughter.
At this thought, which struck him like a thunder-bolt, a burning blush flushed his face, a flash darted from his eyes, and he stopped his horse short, resolved on finishing once for all with his pursuer.
The horse, suddenly arrested in its stride, uttered a snort of pain, and remained motionless, at the same instant the galloping of the invisible steed ceased to be heard.
"Hilloah!" the half-breed muttered, "This is beginning to look ugly."
And drawing a pistol from his belt, he set the hammer. He immediately heard, like a funeral echo, the sharp sound of another hammer being set by his adversary.
Still, this sound, instead of increasing the half-breed's apprehensions, seemed, on the contrary, to calm them.
"What is the meaning of that?" he asked himself, mentally, as he shook his head, "Can I be mistaken? have I not to deal with an Apache?"
After this aside, during which Lanzi sought in vain to distinguish his unknown foe, he shouted in a loud voice:—
"Hilloah, who are you?"
"Who are you?" a masculine voice replied, emerging from the darkness, in a tone quite as resolute as that of the half-breed.
"That's a singular answer," Lanzi went on.
"Not more singular than the question."
These words were exchanged in excellent Spanish. The half-breed, now certain that he had to deal with a white man, banished all fear, and uncocking his pistol returned it to his girdle, as he said good-humouredly:—
"You must feel like myself, Caballero, inclined to draw breath after so long a ride; shall we rest together?"
"I wish for nothing better," the other answered.
"Why," a voice exclaimed, which the half-breed at once recognised, "it is Lanzi."
"Certainly," the latter shouted, joyfully, "Voto à brios, Doña Carmela, I did not hope to meet you here."
The three persons joined, and the explanations were short.
Fear does not calculate or reflect. Doña Carmela on one side, Lanzi on the other, filled with a vague terror, fled without attempting to account for the feeling that impelled them, exerted only by the instinct of self-preservation, that supreme weapon given by God to man with which to escape danger in extremities.
The only difference was, that the half-breed believed himself pursued by the Apaches, while Doña Carmela supposed them a-head of her.
When the young lady, on Lanzi's recommendation, left the venta, she rode blindly along the first path that presented itself.
Heaven willed it for her happiness that at the moment the house blew up with a terrible crash, Doña Carmela, half dead with fear and thrown from her horse, was found by a white hunter, who, moved with pity at the recital of the dangers that menaced her, generously offered to escort her to the Larch-tree hacienda, where she desired to proceed, in order to place herself under Tranquil's immediate protection.
Doña Carmela, after taking a scrutinizing glance at the hunter, whose honest look and open face were proofs of his loyalty, gratefully accepted his offer, fearing, as she did, that she might fall, in the darkness, among the Indian bands which were doubtless infesting the roads, and to which her ignorance of localities would have inevitably made her a prey.
The maiden and her guide set out therefore at once for the hacienda, but affected by numberless apprehensions, the gallop of the half-breed's horse made them believe a party of the enemy a-head of them, hence they had kept far enough behind to be able to turn and fly at the slightest suspicious movement on the part of their supposed enemies.
This explanation did away with all alarm, and Carmela and Lanzi were delighted at having met again thus providentially.
While the half-breed was telling his young mistress in what way he had disposed of the Apaches, the hunter, like a prudent man, had taken the horses by the bridle and led them into a thick coppice, where he carefully hid them. He then returned to his new friends, who had seated themselves on the ground, to enjoy a few moments of welcome rest.
At this moment, when the hunter returned, Lanzi was saying to his mistress—
"Why, señorita, should you fatigue yourself further this night? Our new friend and I will build you with a few axe strokes a jacal under which you will be famously sheltered; you will sleep till sunrise, and then we can start again for the hacienda. For the present you have no danger to fear, as you are protected by two men who will not hesitate to sacrifice their lives for you, if necessary."
"I thank you, my good Lanzi," the young lady answered; "your devotion is known to me, and I could not hesitate to trust to you if I were at this moment affected by fear of the Apaches. Believe me, that the thought of the perils I may have to incur from those pagans goes for nothing in my determination to start again immediately."
"What more important consideration can compel you, then, señorita?" the half-breed asked, in surprise.
"That, my friend, is an affair between my father and myself; it is sufficient for you to know that I must see and speak to him this very night."
"Be it so, as you wish it, señorita, I consent," the half-breed said, with a shake of his head; "still, you must allow that it is a very strange caprice on your part."
"No, my good Lanzi," she answered, sadly, "it is not a caprice; when you know the reasons that cause me, to act, I am convinced you will applaud me."
"That is possible; but if that is the case, why not tell me them, at once?"
"Because that is impossible."
"Silence!" the hunter interfered, quickly; "any discussion is unnecessary, for we must start as soon as we can."
"What do you mean?" they exclaimed, with a start of terror.
"The Apaches have found our trail; they are coming up quickly, and will be here within twenty minutes. This time there is no mistake, they are the men."
There was a lengthened silence.
Doña Carmela and Lanzi listened attentively.
"I hear nothing," the half-breed said, presently.
"Nor I," the maiden whispered.
The hunter smiled softly.
"You can hear nothing yet," he said, "for your ears are not accustomed, like mine, to catch the slightest sounds from the desert. Put faith in my words, trust to an experience which was never mistaken: your enemies are approaching."
"What is to be done?" Doña Carmela murmured.
"Fly," the half-breed exclaimed.
"Listen," the hunter said, quietly; "the Apaches are numerous, they are cunning, but we can only conquer them by cunning. If we try to resist we are lost; if we fly all three together, sooner or later we shall fall into their hands. While I remain here you will fly with señorita, but be careful to muffle your horses' hoofs so as to dull the sound."
"But you?" the maiden exclaimed quickly.
"Have I not told you? I shall remain here."
"Oh, in that case you will fall into the hands of the pagans, and be inevitably massacred."
"Perhaps so," he replied with an indescribable expression of sadness; "but at any rate my death will be of some service, as it will save you."
"Very well," said Lanzi; "I thank you for your offer, Caballero; unhappily, I cannot, and will not, accept it, for matters must not turn thus. I began the affair, and insist on ending it in my own way. Go away with the señorita, deliver her into her father's hands, and if you do not see me again, and he asks what has happened to me, tell him simply that I kept my promise, and laid down my life for her."
"I will never consent," Doña Carmela exclaimed energetically.
"Silence!" the half-breed hastily interrupted her, "Be off, you have not a moment to lose."
In spite of the young lady's resistance, he raised her in his muscular arms, and ran off with her into the thicket.
Carmela understood that nothing could change the half-breed's resolution, so she yielded to him.
The hunter accepted Lanzi's devotion as simply as he had offered his own, for the half-breed's conduct appeared to him perfectly natural; he therefore made not the slightest objection, but busied himself with getting the horses ready.
"Now begone," the half-breed said, so soon as the hunter and the maiden had mounted; "go, and may heaven be merciful to you!"
"And you, my friend?" Doña Carmela remarked sadly.
"I?" he answered with a careless toss of his head; "The red devils have not got me yet. Come, be off."
To cut short the conversation, the half-breed roughly lashed the horses with his chicote; the noble animals started at a gallop, and soon disappeared from his sight.
So soon as he was alone, the poor fellow gave vent to a sigh.
"Hum!" he muttered sadly; "This time I am very much afraid that it is all up with me; no matter, Canarios, I will fight to the last, and if the pagans catch me, it shall cost them dearly."
After forming this heroic resolution, which seemed to restore all his courage, the worthy man mounted his horse and prepared for action.
The Apaches dashed up with a noise resembling thunder.
The black outlines could already be distinguished through the darkness.
Lanzi took the bridle between his teeth, seized a pistol in either hand, and when he judged the moment propitious, he dug his spurs into his horse, dashed out in front of the Redskins, and crossed their front diagonally.
When within range, he fired his pistols into the group, gave a yell of defiance, and continued his flight with redoubled speed.
What the half-breed expected, really happened. His shots had told, and two Apaches fell with their chests pierced through and through. The Indians, furious at this audacious attack, which they were far from expecting from a single man, uttered a cry of fury, and dashed after him.
This was exactly what Lanzi wanted.
"There," he said on seeing the success of his scheme; "they are altogether now, and there is no fear of their scattering; the others are saved. As for me—bah, who knows?"
Doña Carmela and the hunter only escaped from the Apaches to fall in with the jaguars. We have seen how they were saved, thanks to Tranquil.