For more than half an hour the silence of death hovered over the clearing, which offered a most sad and lugubrious aspect through the fight we described in the preceding chapter.
At length John Davis, who in reality had received no serious wound, for his fall was merely occasioned by the shock of the Scalper's powerful horse, opened his eyes and looked around him in amazement; the fall had been sufficiently violent to cause him serious bruises, and throw him into a deep fainting fit; hence, on regaining consciousness, the American, still stunned, did not remember a single thing that had happened, and asked himself very seriously what he had been doing to find himself in this singular situation.
Still, his ideas grew gradually clearer, his memory returned, and he remembered the strange and disproportioned fight of one man against twenty, in which the former remained the victor, after killing and dispersing his assailants.
"Hum!" he muttered to himself, "Whether he be man or demon, that individual is a sturdy fellow."
He got up with some difficulty, carefully feeling his paining limbs; and when he was quite assured he had nothing broken, he continued with evident satisfaction—
"Thank Heaven! I got off more cheaply than I had a right to suppose, after the way in which I was upset." Then he added, as he gave a glance of pity to his comrade, who lay dead near him; "That poor Jim was not so lucky as I, and his fun is over. What a tremendous machete stroke he received! Nonsense!" he then said with the egotistic philosophy of the desert; "We are all mortal, each has his turn; to-day it's he, to-morrow I, so goes the world."
Leaning on his rifle, for he still experienced some difficulty in walking, he took a few steps on the clearing in order to convince himself by a conclusive experiment that his limbs were in a sound state.
After a few moments of an exercise that restored circulation to his blood and elasticity to his joints, completely reassured about himself, the thought occurred to him of trying whether among the bodies lying around him any still breathed.
"They are only Indians," he muttered, "but, after all, they are men; although they are nearly deprived of reason, humanity orders me to help them; the more so, as my present situation has nothing very agreeable about it, and if I succeed in saving any of them, their knowledge of the desert will be of great service to me."
This last consideration determined him on helping men whom probably without it he would have abandoned to their fate, that is to say, to the teeth of the wild beasts which, attracted by the scent of blood, would have certainly made them their prey after dark.
Still it is our duty to render the egotistic citizen of the United States the justice of saying that, so soon as he had formed this determination, he acquitted himself conscientiously and sagaciously of his self-imposed task, which was easy to him after all; for the numerous professions he had carried on during the course of his adventurous life had given him a medical knowledge and experience which placed him in a position to give sick persons that care their condition demanded.
Unfortunately, most of the persons he inspected had received such serious wounds that life had long fled their bodies, and help was quite unavailing.
"Hang it, hang it!" the American muttered at every corpse he turned over, "These poor savages were killed by a master-hand. At any rate they did not suffer long, for with such fearful wounds they must have surrendered their souls to the Creator almost instantaneously."
He thus reached the spot where lay the body of Blue-fox, with a wide gaping wound in his chest.
"Ah, ah! Here is the worthy Chief," he went on. "What a gash! Let us see if he is dead too."
He bent over the motionless body, and put the blade of his knife to the Indian's lips.
"He does not stir," he continued, with an air of discouragement; "I am afraid I shall have some difficulty in bringing him round."
In a few minutes, however, he looked at the blade of his knife and saw that it was slightly tarnished.
"Come, he is not dead yet; so long as the soul holds to the body, there is hope, so I will have a try."
After this aside, John Davis fetched some water in his hat, mixed a small quantity of spirits with it, and began carefully laving the wound; this duty performed, he sounded it and found it of no great depth, and the abundant loss of blood had in all probability brought on the state of unconsciousness. Reassured by this perfectly correct reflection, he pounded some oregano leaves between two stones, made a species of cataplasm of them, laid it on the wound, and secured it with a strip of bark; then unclenching the wounded man's teeth with the blade of his knife, he thrust in the mouth of his flask, and made him drink a quantity of spirits.
Success almost immediately crowned the American's tentatives, for the Chief gave vent to a deep sigh, and opened his eyes almost instantaneously.
"Bravo!" John exclaimed, delighted at the unhoped for result he had achieved. "Courage, Chief, you are saved. By Jove! You may boast of having come back a precious long distance."
For some minutes the Indian remained stunned, looking around him absently, without any consciousness of the situation in which he was, or of the objects that surrounded him.
John attentively watched him, ready to give him help again, were it necessary; but it was not so. By degrees the Redskin appeared to grow livelier; his eyes lost their vacant expression, he sat up and passed his hand over his dank brow.
"Is the fight over?" he asked.
"Yes," John answered, "in our complete defeat; that was a splendid idea we had of capturing such a demon."
"Has he escaped, then?"
"Most perfectly so, and without a single wound, after killing at least a dozen of your warriors, and cleaving my poor Jim's skull down to the shoulders."
"Oh!" the Indian muttered hoarsely, "He is not a man, but the spirit of evil."
"Let him be what he likes," John exclaimed, energetically; "I intend to fight it out some day, for I hope to come across this demon again."
"May the Wacondah preserve my brother from such a meeting, for this demon would kill him."
"Perhaps so; as it is, if he did not do so to-day, it was no fault of his, but let him take care; we may some day stand face to face with equal weapons, and then—"
"What does he care for weapons? Did you not see that they have no power over him, and that his body is invulnerable?"
"Hum! That is possible; but for the present let us leave the subject and attend to matters that affect us much more closely. How do you find yourself?"
"Better, much better; the remedy you have applied to my wound does me great good; I am beginning to feel quite comfortable."
"All the better; now try to rest for two or three hours, while I watch over your sleep; after that, we will consult as to the best way of getting out of this scrape."
The Redskin smiled on hearing this remark.
"Blue-fox is no cowardly old woman whom a tooth-ache or ear-ache renders incapable of moving."
"I know that you are a brave warrior, Chief; but nature has limits, which cannot be passed, and, however great your courage and will may be, the abundant haemorrhage which your wound has caused you must have reduced you to a state of extreme weakness."
"I thank you, my brother; those words come from a friend; but Blue-fox is a Sachem in his nation, death alone can render him unable to move. My brother will judge of the Chief's weakness."
While uttering these words, the Indian made a supreme effort; fighting against pain, with the energy and contempt of suffering that characterize the Red race, he succeeded in rising, and not only stood firmly on his feet, but even walked several yards without assistance, or the slightest trace of emotion appearing on his face.
The American regarded him with profound admiration; he could not imagine, though he himself justly enjoyed a reputation for braver, that it was possible to carry so far the triumph of moral over physical force.
The Indian smiled proudly on reading in the American's eyes the astonishment his performance caused him.
"Does my brother still believe that Blue-fox is so weak?" he asked him.
"On my word, Chief, I know not what to think; what you have just done confounds me; I am prepared to suppose you capable of accomplishing impossibilities."
"The Chiefs of my nation are renowned warriors, who laugh at pain, and for them suffering does not exist," the Redskin said, proudly.
"I should be inclined to believe it, after your way of acting."
"My brother is a man; he has understood me. We will inspect together the warriors lying on the ground, and then think of ourselves."
"As for your poor comrades, Chief, I am compelled to tell you that we have no occasion to trouble ourselves about them, for they are all dead."
"Good! they fell nobly while fighting; the Wacondah will receive them into his bosom, and permit them to hunt with him on the happy prairies."
"So be it!"
"Now, before all else, let us settle the affair we began this morning, and which was so unexpectedly broken off."
John Davis, in spite, of his acquaintance with desert life, was confounded by the coolness of this man, who, having escaped death by a miracle, still suffering from a terrible wound, and who had regained possession of his intellectual faculties only a few moments before, seemed no longer to think of what had occurred, considered the events to which he had all but fallen a victim as the very natural accidents of the life he led, and began again, with the greatest freedom of mind, a conversation interrupted by a terrible fight, at the very point where he left it. The fact was, that, despite the lengthened intercourse the American had hitherto had with the Redskins, he had never taken the trouble to study their character seriously, for he was persuaded, like most of the whites indeed, that these men are beings almost devoid of intelligence, and that the life they lead places them almost on a level with the brute, while, on the contrary, this life of liberty and incessant perils renders danger so familiar to them that they have grown to despise it, and only attach a secondary importance to it.
"Be it so," he said presently; "since you wish it, Chief, I will deliver the message intrusted to me for you."
"My brother will take a place by my side."
The American sat down on the ground by the Chief, not without a certain feeling of apprehension through his isolation on this battle-field strewn with corpses; but the Indian appeared so calm and tranquil that John Davis felt ashamed to let his anxiety be seen, and affecting carelessness he was very far from feeling, he began to speak.
"I am sent to my brother by a great warrior of the Palefaces."
"I know him; he is called the Jaguar. His arm is strong, and his eye flashes like that of the animal whose name, he bears."
"Good! The Jaguar wishes to bury the hatchet between his warriors and those of my brother, in order that peace may unite them, and that, instead of fighting with each other, they may pursue the buffalo on the same hunting grounds, and avenge themselves on their common enemies. What answer shall I give the Jaguar?"
The Indian remained silent for a long time; at length he raised his head.
"My brother will open his ears," he said, "a Sachem is about to speak."
"I am listening," the American answered.
The Chief went on—
"The words my bosom breathes are sincere—the Wacondah inspires me with them; the Palefaces, since they were brought by the genius of evil in their large medicine-canoes to the territories of my fathers, have ever been the virulent enemies of the Red men; invading their richest and most fertile hunting grounds, pursuing them like wild beasts whenever they met with them, burning their callis, and dispersing the bones of their ancestors to the four winds of Heaven. Has not such constantly been the conduct of the Palefaces? I await my brother's answer."
"Well," the American said, with a certain amount of embarrassment, "I cannot deny, Chief, that there is some truth in what you say; but still, all the men of my colour have not been unkind to the Redskins, and several have tried to do them good."
"Wah! two or three have done so, but that only goes to prove what I assert. Let us come to the question we wish to discuss at present."
"Yes, I believe that will be the best," the American replied, delighted in his heart at not having to sustain a discussion which he knew would not result in victory to him.
"My nation hates the Palefaces," the Chief continued; "the condor does not make its nest with the maukawis, or the grizzly bear pair with the antelope. I, myself, have an instinctive hatred for the Palefaces. This morning, then, I should have peremptorily declined the Jaguar's proposals, for how do the wars the Palefaces wage together concern us? When the coyotes devour each other, the deer rejoice: we are happy to see our cruel oppressors tearing one another; but now, though my hatred is equally vivid, I am bound to bury it in my heart. My brother has saved my life; he helped when I was stretched out on the ground, and the Genius of Death was hovering over my head; ingratitude is a white vice, gratitude a red virtue. From this day the hatchet is buried between the Jaguar and Blue-fox for five succeeding moons; for five moons the enemies of the Jaguar will be those of Blue-fox; the two Chiefs will fight side by side, like loving brothers: in three suns from this one, the Sachem will join the Paleface Chief at the head of five hundred renowned warriors, whose heels are adorned with numerous coyote tails, and who form the pick of the nation. What will the Jaguar do for Blue-fox and his warriors?"
"The Jaguar is a generous Chief; if he is terrible for his enemies, his hand is always open for his friends; each Apache warrior will receive a rifle, one hundred charges of powder, and a scalping knife, The Sachem will also receive in addition to these presents two vicuna skins filled with fire-water."
"Wah!" the Chief exclaimed, with evident satisfaction, "My brother has said truly that the Jaguar is a generous Chief. Here is my totem as signal of alliance, as well as my feather of command."
While thus speaking the Chief drew from his game bag or medicine bag, which he wore slung, a square piece of parchment, on which was clumsily drawn the totem or animal emblematic of the tribe, handed it to the American, who placed it in his bosom; then removing the eagle feather fixed in his war-lock, he also gave him that.
"I thank my brother the Sachem," John Davis then said, "for having acceded to my proposal; he will have no cause to repent it."
"A Chief has given his word; but see, the sun is lengthening the shadows of the trees, the maukawis will soon strike up the evening song; the hour has come to pay the last duties to the Chiefs who are dead, and then separate to rejoin our common friends."
"On foot as we are, that appears to me rather difficult," John remarked.
The Indian smiled.
"The warriors of Blue-fox are watching over him," he said.
In fact, the Chief had hardly twice given a private signal, ere fifty Apache warriors burst into the clearing, and assembled silently around him.
The fugitives who escaped from the Scalper's terrible arm, soon collected again; they returned to their camp and announced the news of their defeat to their comrades, and then a detachment was sent off under the orders of a subaltern Chief, to look for their Sachem, But these horsemen, seeing Blue-fox in conference with a Paleface, remained under covert, patiently waiting till it pleased him to summon them.
The Sachem gave orders to bury the dead. The funeral ceremony then began, which circumstances compelled them to abbreviate.
The bodies were carefully washed, wrapped in new buffalo robes, and then placed in a sitting posture in trenches dug for each of them, with their weapons, bit, and provisions by their side, in order that they might want for nothing on their journey to the happy hunting grounds, and be able to mount and hunt so soon as they joined the Wacondah.
When these several rites had been performed, the hunters were filled up, and covered with heavy stones, lest the wild beasts should grub up and devour the bodies.
The sun was just disappearing on the horizon, when the Apaches finished the last duties to their brothers. Blue-fox then walked up to the hunter, who had hitherto been a silent, if not indifferent, spectator of the ceremony.
"My brother wishes to return to the warriors of his nation?" he said to him.
"Yes," the American laconically answered.
"The Paleface has lost his horse, so he will mount the mustang Blue-fox offers him; within two hours he can have returned to his friends."
John Davis gratefully accepted the present so generously made him, mounted at once, and, after taking leave of the Apaches, set off at full speed.
On their side, the Indians, at a signal from their Chief, buried themselves in the forest and clearing where such terrible events had occurred, and fell back into silence and solitude.
Like all men the greater portion of whose life is spent in the desert, the Jaguar was gifted with excessive prudence joined to extreme circumspection.
Though still very young, his life had been composed of such strange incidents, he had been an actor in such extraordinary scenes, that from an early age he had grown accustomed to shut up his emotions in his heart, and preserve on his countenance, whatever he might see or experience, that marble-like stoicism which characterizes the Indians, and which the latter have converted into such a tremendous weapon against their enemies.
On hearing Tranquil's voice all at once so close to him, the young man gave a start, frowned, and asked himself mentally how it was that the hunter came to find him thus in his camp, and what reason was powerful enough to impel him to do so; the more so, because his intimacy with the Canadian, ever subject to intermittences, was at this moment on terms far from amicable, if not completely hostile.
Still the young man, in whom the feeling of honour spoke loudly, and whom the steps taken by Tranquil flattered more than he cared to let anyone see, concealed the apprehensions that agitated him, and walked quickly, and with a smile on his lips, to meet the hunter.
The latter was not alone; Loyal Heart accompanied him.
The Canadian's manner was reserved, and his face was covered by a cloud of sorrow.
"You are welcome to my camp, hunter," the Jaguar said kindly, as he offered his hand.
"Thank you," the Canadian answered laconically, not touching the proffered hand.
"I am glad to see you," the young man went on, without any display of annoyance; "what accident has brought you in this direction?"
"My comrade and I have been hunting for a long time; fatigue is crushing us, and the smoke of your camp attracted us."
The Jaguar pretended to accept as gospel this clumsy evasion of a man who justly prided himself as being the healthiest and strongest wood-ranger of the desert.
"Come, then, and take a seat at my camp fire, and be good enough to regard everything here as belonging to you, and act in accordance with it."
The Canadian bowed, but made no answer, and with Loyal Heart followed the hunter who preceded them, and guided them through the mazes of the camp.
On reaching the fire, upon which the young man threw a few handfuls of dry wood, the hunters sat down on buffalo skulls placed there as seats, and then, without breaking the silence, filled their pipes and began smoking.
The Jaguar imitated them.
Those white men who traverse the prairie, and whose life is spent in hunting or trapping on these vast solitudes, have unconsciously assumed most of the habits and customs of the Redskins, with whom the exigencies of their position bring them constantly into contact.
A thing worthy of remark, is the tendency of civilized men to return to savage life, and the facility with which hunters, born for the most part in the great centres of population, forget their habits of comfort, surrender the customs of towns, and renounce the usages by which they were governed during the earlier part of their life, in order to adopt the manners, and even the habits, of the Redskins.
Many of these hunters carry this so far, that the greatest compliment which can be paid them is to pretend to take them for Indian warriors.
We must confess that, per contra, the Redskins are not at all jealous of our civilization, in which they take but slight interest, and that those whom accident or commercial reasons carry to cities, and by such we mean cities like New York, or New Orleans;—these Indians, we say, far from being astounded at what they see, look around them with glances of pity, not understanding how men can voluntarily consent to shut themselves up in the smoky cages called houses, and expend their life in ungrateful toil, instead of living in the open air among the vast solitudes, hunting the buffalo, bear, and jaguar, under the immediate eye of Heaven.
Are the savages completely wrong in thinking so? Is their reasoning false? We do not believe it.
Desert life possesses, for the man whose heart is still open enough to comprehend its moving incidents, intoxicating delights which can only be experienced there, and which the mathematically ruled customs of towns cannot at all cause to be forgotten, if they have once been tasted.
According to the principles of Indian etiquette on matters of politeness, no question must be addressed to strangers who sit down at the camp-fire, until they are pleased to begin the conversation.
In an Indian's wigwam a guest is regarded as sent by the Great Spirit; he is sacred to the man he visits as long as he thinks proper to remain with him, even if he be his mortal enemy.
The Jaguar, thoroughly conversant with Redskin customs, remained silently by the side of his guests, smoking and thinking, and waiting patiently till they decided on speaking.
At length, after a considerable lapse of time, Tranquil shook the ashes from his pipe on his thumbnail, and turned to the young man.
"You did not expect me, I fancy?" he said.
"I did not," the other answered; "still be assured that the visit, though unexpected, is not less agreeable to me."
The hunter curled his lip in a singular fashion.
"Who knows?" he muttered, answering his own thoughts rather than the Jaguar's remark; "perhaps yes, perhaps no; man's heart is a mysterious and undecipherable book, in which only madmen fancy they can read."
"It is not so with me, hunter, as you know from experience."
The Canadian shook his head.
"You are still young; the heart to which you refer is still unknown to yourself; in the short period your existence has passed through, the wind of passion has not yet blown over you and bowed you down before its powerful impetus: wait, in order to reply with certainty, until you have loved and suffered; when you have bravely sustained the shock, and resisted the hurricane of youth, it will be time for you to speak."
These words were uttered with a stern accent, but there was no bitterness about them.
"You are harsh to me, to-day, Tranquil," the young: man answered sorrowfully; "how have I sunk in your esteem? What reprehensible act have I done?"
"None—at any rate, it pleases me to believe so; but I fear that soon—"
He stopped and shook his head mournfully.
"Finish the sentence," the young man quickly exclaimed.
"For what end?" he answered; "Who am I that I should impose on you a line of conduct which you would probably despise, and advice which would prove unwelcome? It is better to be silent."
"Tranquil!" the young man said, with an emotion he could not master, "For a long time we have known each other, you are aware of the esteem and respect I hold you in, so speak; whatever you have to say, however rude your reproaches may be, I will listen to you, I swear it."
"Nonsense; forget what I said to you; I was wrong to think of meddling in your affairs; on the prairie, a man should only think about himself, so let us say no more."
The Jaguar gave him a long and profound glance. "Be it so," he answered; "we will say no more about it."
He rose and walked a few yards in agitation, then he brusquely returned to the hunter.
"Pardon me," he said, "for not having thought of offering you refreshment, but breakfast time has now arrived. I trust that your comrade and yourself will do me the honour of sharing my frugal meal."
While speaking thus, the Jaguar bent on the Canadian a most meaning glance.
Tranquil hesitated for a second.
"This morning at sunrise," he then said, "my friend and myself ate, just before entering your camp."
"I was sure of it," the young man burst out. "Oh, oh! Now my doubts are cleared up; you refuse water and salt at my fire, hunter."
"I? But you forget that—"
"Oh!" he interrupted, passionately, "No denial, Tranquil; do not seek for pretexts unworthy of yourself and me; you are too honest and sincere a man not to be frank, cuerpo de Cristo! Likewise, you know the law of the prairies; a man will not break his fast with an enemy. Now, if you still have in your heart a single spark of that kindly feeling you entertained toward me at another period, explain yourself clearly, and without any beating round the bush—I insist on it."
The Canadian seemed to reflect for a few moments, and then suddenly exclaimed, with great resolution—
"Indeed, you are right, Jaguar; it is better to have an explanation like honest hunters, than try to deceive each other like Redskins; and besides, no man is infallible. I may be mistaken as well as another, and Heaven is my witness that I should like it to be so."
"I am listening to you, and on my honour, if the reproaches you make are well founded, I will recognize it."
"Good!" the hunter said, in a more friendly tone than he had hitherto employed; "you speak like a man; but, perhaps," he added, pointing to Loyal Heart, who discreetly made a move to withdraw, "you would prefer our interview being private?"
"On the contrary," the Jaguar answered, eagerly, "this hunter is your friend; I hope he will soon be mine, and I do not wish to have any secrets from him."
"I desire ardently for my part," Loyal Heart said, with a bow, "that the slight cloud which has arisen between you and Tranquil may be dispersed like the vapour driven away by the morning breeze, in order that I may become better acquainted with you; as you wish it, I will listen to your conversation."
"Thanks, Caballero. Now speak, Tranquil, I am ready to listen to the charges you fancy you have to bring against me."
"Unluckily," said Tranquil, "the strange life yon have led since your arrival in these parts gives occasion for the most unfavourable surmises; you have formed a band of adventurers and border-ruffians, outlawed by society, and living completely beyond the ordinary path of civilized peoples."
"Are we prairie-hunters and wood-rangers obliged to obey all the paltry exigencies of cities?"
"Yes, up to a certain point; that is to say, we are not allowed to place ourselves in open revolt against the institutions of men who, though we have separated from them, are no less our brothers, and to whom we continue to belong by our colour, religion, origin, and the family ties which attach us to them, and which we have been unable to break.
"Be it so, I admit to a certain extent the justice of your reasoning; but even supposing that the men I command are really bandits, border-ruffians as you call them, do you know from what motives they act? Can you bring any accusation against them?"
"Patience, I have not finished yet."
"Go on, then."
"Next, in addition to this band of which you are the ostensible Chief, you have contracted alliances with the Redskins, the Apaches among others, the most impudent plunderers on the prairie; is that so?"
"Yes, and no, my friend; in the sense that the alliance which you charge me with never existed until the present hour; but this morning it was probably concluded by two of my friends with Blue-fox, one of the most renowned Apache Chiefs."
"Hum! that is an unlucky coincidence."
"Why so?"
"Are you aware what your new allies did last night?"
"How should I? Since I do not know where they are, and have not even received the official report of the treaty being made."
"Well, I will tell you; they attacked the Venta del Potrero, and burned it to the ground."
The Jaguar's savage eye emitted a flash of fury; he bounded to his feet, and convulsively seized his rifle.
"By Heaven!" he shouted, loudly, "Have they done that?"
"They did; and it is supposed at your instigation."
The Jaguar shrugged his shoulders disdainfully.
"For what object?" he said. "But Doña Carmela, what has become of her?"
"She is saved, thank Heaven!"
The young man heaved a sigh of relief.
"And you believed in such infamy on my part?" he asked, reproachfully.
"I do not believe it now," the hunter replied.
"Thanks, thanks! but by Heaven! The demons shall pay dearly, I swear, for the crime they have committed; now go on."
"Unluckily, if you have exculpated yourself from my first accusation, I doubt whether you will be able to do so with the second."
"You can tell me it, at any rate."
"A conducta de plata, commanded by Captain Melendez, is on the road for Mexico."
The young man gave a slight start.
"I know it," he said, shortly.
The hunter gave him an inquiring glance.
"They say—" he went on, with considerable hesitation.
"They say," the Jaguar interrupted him, "that I am following the conducta, and when the propitious moment arrives, I mean to attack it at the head of my bandits, and carry off the money; that is the story?"
"Yes."
"They are right," the young man answered, coldly; "that is really my intention; what next?"
Tranquil started in surprise and indignation at this cynical answer.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, in great grief, "What is said of you is true, then? You are really a bandit?"
The young man smiled bitterly.
"Perhaps I am," he said, in a hollow voice; "Tranquil, your age is double mine; your experience is great; why do you judge rashly on appearances?"
"What! Appearances! Have you not confessed it yourself?"
"Yes, I have."
"Then you meditate a robbery?"
"A robbery!" he exclaimed, blushing with indignation, but at once recovering himself, he added, "It is true, you are bound to suppose that."
"What other name can be given to so infamous a deed?" the hunter exclaimed, violently.
The Jaguar raised his head quickly, as if he intended to answer, but his lips remained dumb.
Tranquil looked at him for a moment with mingled pity and tenderness, and then turned to Loyal Heart.
"Come, my friend," he said, "we have remained here only too long."
"Stay!" the young man exclaimed, "Do not condemn me thus; I repeat to you that you are ignorant of the motives through which I act."
"Whatever these motives may be, they cannot be honourable; I see no other than pillage and murder."
"Oh!" the young man exclaimed, as he buried his face sorrowfully in his hands.
"Let us go," Tranquil repeated.
Loyal Heart had watched this strange scene attentively and coldly.
"A moment," he said; then, slipping forward, he laid his hand on the Jaguar's shoulder.
The latter raised his head.
"What do you want of me?" he asked.
"Listen to me, Caballero," Loyal Heart answered in a deep voice; "I know not why, but a secret foreboding tells me that your conduct is not so infamous as everything leads us to suppose, and that some day you will be permitted to explain it, and exculpate yourself in the sight of all."
"Oh! were it but possible for me to speak!"
"How long do you believe that you will be compelled to remain silent?"
"How do I know? That depends on circumstances independent of my will."
"Then, you cannot fix a period?"
"It is impossible; I have taken an oath, and am bound to keep it."
"Good: then promise me only one thing."
"What is it?"
"To make no attempt on the life of Captain Melendez."
The Jaguar hesitated.
"Well?" Loyal Heart went on.
"I will do everything to save it."
"Thanks!" then, turning to Tranquil, who stood motionless by his side, he said—
"Take your place again, brother, and breakfast with this caballero, I answer for him body for body; if in two months from this day he does not give you a satisfactory explanation of his conduct, I, who am bound by no oath, will reveal to you this mystery, which appears, and really is, inexplicable for you."
The Jaguar started, and gave Loyal Heart a searching glance, which produced no effect, however, on the hunter's indifferently placid face.
The Canadian hesitated for a few moments, but at length took his place again by the fire, muttering—.
"In two months, be it so;" and he added in an aside, "but till then I will watch him."
Captain Melendez was anxious to pass through the dangerous defile near which the conducta had bivouacked; he knew how great was the responsibility he had taken on himself in accepting the command of the escort, and did not wish, in the event of any misfortune happening, that a charge of carelessness or negligence could be brought against him.
The sum conveyed by the recua of mules was important. The Mexican government, ever forced to expedients to procure money, was impatiently expecting it; the Captain did not conceal from himself that the whole responsibility of an attack would be mercilessly thrown on him, and that he would have to endure all the consequences, whatever might be the results of an encounter with the border rifles.
Hence his anxiety and alarm increased with every moment; the evident treachery of Fray Antonio only heightened his apprehensions, by making him suspect a probable trap. Though it was impossible for him to guess from what quarter the danger would come, he felt it, as it were, approaching him inch by inch, and besetting him on all sides, and he expected a terrible explosion at any moment.
This secret intuition, this providential foreboding, which told him to be on his guard, placed him in a state of excitement impossible to describe, and threw him into an intolerable situation, from which he resolved to escape at all hazards, preferring to run the danger and confront it, to remaining longer with bayonets pointed at unseen foes.
Hence he doubled his vigilance, himself inspecting the vicinity of the camp, and watching the loading of the mules, which, fastened to each other, would, in the event of an attack, be placed in the centre of the most devoted and resolute men of the escort.
Long before sunrise, the Captain, whose sleep had been an uninterrupted series of continued starts, quitted the hard bed of skins and horsecloths on which he had vainly sought a few hours of rest, which his nervous condition rendered impossible, and began walking sharply up and down the narrow space that composed the interior of the camp, involuntarily envying the careless and calm slumbers of the troopers, who were lying here and there on the ground, wrapped up in their zarapés.
In the meanwhile day gradually broke. The owl, whose matin hoot announces the appearance of the sun, had already given its melancholy note. The Captain kicked the arriero Chief, who was lying by the fire, and aroused him.
The worthy man rubbed his eyes several times, and when the last clouds of sleep were dissipated, and order was beginning to be re-established in his ideas, he exclaimed, while stifling a last sigh—
"Caray, Captain, what fly has stung you that you awake me at so early an hour? Why, the sky has scarce turned white yet; let me sleep an hour longer. I was enjoying a most delicious dream, and will try to catch it up again, for sleep is a glorious thing."
The Captain could not refrain from smiling at this singular outburst; still, he did not consider himself justified in listening to the arriero's complaints, for circumstances were too serious to lose time in futile promises.
"Up, up! Cuerpo de Cristo!" he shouted; "Remember that we have not yet reached the Rio Seco, and that if we wish to cross this dangerous passage before sunset, we must make haste."
"That is true," the arriero said, who was on his legs in a moment, as fresh and lively as if he had been awake for an hour; "forgive me, Captain, for I have quite as much interest as yourself in making no unpleasant encounter; according to the law, my fortune answers for the load I am conveying, and if an accident happened, I and my family would be reduced to beggary."
"That is true, I did not think of that clause in your contract."
"That does not surprise me, for it cannot at all interest you; but I cannot get it out of my head, and I declare to you, Captain, that since I undertook this unlucky journey, I have very often repented having accepted the conditions imposed on me; something tells me that we shall not arrive safe and sound on the other side of these confounded mountains."
"Nonsense, that is folly, no Bautista. You are in a capital condition, and well escorted; what cause can you have for fear?"
"None, I know, and yet I am convinced that I am not mistaken, and this journey will be fatal to me."
The same presentiments agitated the officer; still, he must not allow the arriero to perceive any of his internal disquietude; on the contrary, he must comfort him, and restore that courage which seemed on the point of abandoning him.
"You are mad, on my soul," he exclaimed; "to the deuce with the absurd notions you have got in your wool-gathering noddle."
The arriero shook his head gravely.
"You are at liberty, Don Juan Melendez," he answered, "to laugh at these ideas; you are an educated man, and naturally believe in nothing. But I, Caballero, am a poor ignorant Indian, and set faith in what my fathers believed before me; look you, Captain, we Indians, whether civilized or savage, have hard heads, and your new ideas cannot get through our thick skulls."
"Come, explain yourself," the Captain continued, desirous to break off the conversation without thwarting the arriero's prejudices; "what reason leads you to suppose that your journey will be unlucky? You are not the man to be frightened at your own shadow; I have been acquainted with you for a long while, and know that you possess incontestable bravery."
"I thank you, Captain, for the good opinion you are pleased to have of me; yes, I am courageous, and believe I have several times proved it, but it was when facing dangers which my intellect understood, and not before perils contrary to the natural laws that govern us."
The Captain twisted his moustache impatiently at the arriero's fatiguing prolixity: but, as he reminded him, he knew the worthy man, and was aware by experience that attempting to cut short what he had to say was a loss of time, and he must be allowed to do as he liked.
There are certain men with whom, like the spur with restiff horses, any attempt to urge them on is a sure means of making them go back.
The young man, therefore, mastered his impatience, and coldly said:—
"I presume, then, you saw some evil omen at the moment of your departure?"
"Indeed I did, Captain; and certainly, after what I saw, I would not have started, had I been a man easily frightened."
"What was the omen, then?"
"Do not laugh at me, Captain; several passages of Scripture itself prove that GOD is often pleased to grant men salutary warnings, to which unhappily," he added with a sigh, "they are not wise enough to give credence."
"That is true," the Captain muttered in the style of an interjection.
"Well," the arriero continued, flattered by this approval from a man like the one he was talking with; "my mules were saddled, the recua was waiting for me in the corral, guarded by the peons, and I was on the point of starting. Still, as I did not like separating from my wife, for a long time probably, without saying a last good bye, I proceeded toward the house to give her a parting kiss, when, on reaching the threshold, I mechanically raised my eyes, and saw two owls sitting on the azotea, who fixed their eyes on me with infernal steadiness. At this unexpected apparition, I shuddered involuntarily and turned my eyes away. At this very moment, a dying man, carried by two soldiers on a litter, came down the street, escorted by a monk who was reciting the Penitential Psalms, and preparing him to die like an honest and worthy Christian; but the wounded man made no other answer than laughing ironically at the monk. All at once this man half rose on the litter, his eyes grew brilliant, he turned to me, gave me a glance full of sarcasm, and fell back, muttering these two words evidently addressed to me:—
"Hasta luego (we shall meet soon)."
"Hum!" the Captain said.
"The species of rendezvous this individual gave me, had nothing very flattering about it, I fancy!" the arriero continued. "I was deeply affected by the words, and I rushed toward him with the intention of reproaching him, as I thought was proper—but he was dead."
"Who was the man—did you learn?"
"Yes, he was a Salteador, who had been mortally wounded in a row with the citizens, and was being carried to the steps of the Cathedral, to die there."
"Is that all?" the Captain asked.
"Yes.'
"Well, my friend, I did well in insisting upon knowing the motives of your present uneasiness."
"Ah!"
"Yes, for you have interpreted the omen with which you were favoured, in a very different way from what you should have done."
"How so?"
"Let me explain: this foreboding signifies, on the contrary, that with prudence and indefatigable vigilance you will foil all treachery, and lay beneath your feet any bandits who dare to attack you."
"Oh!" the arriero exclaimed, joyfully; "Are you sure of what you assert?"
"As I am of salvation in the other world," the Captain replied, crossing himself fervently.
The arriero had a profound faith in the Captain's words, for he held him in great esteem, owing to his evident superiority; he did not dream, consequently, of doubting the assurance the latter gave him of the mistake he had made in the interpretation of the omen which had caused him such alarm; he instantly regained his good spirits, and snapped his fingers mockingly.
"Caray, if that is the case, I run no risk; hence it is useless for me to give Nuestra Señora de la Soledad the wax taper I promised her."
"Perfectly useless," the Captain assured him.
Now, feeling perfectly at his ease again, the arriero hastened to perform his ordinary duties.
In this way, the Captain, by pretending to admit the ideas of this ignorant Indian, had led him quietly to abandon them.
By this time all were astir in the camp, the arrieros were rubbing down and loading the mules, while the troopers were saddling their horses and making all preparations for a start.
The Captain watched all the movements with feverish energy, spurring some on, scolding others, and assuring himself that his orders were punctually carried out.
When all the preparations were completed, the young officer ordered that the morning meal should be eaten all standing, and with the bridle passed over the arm, in order to lose no time, and then gave the signal for departure.
The soldiers mounted, but at the moment when the column started to leave the camp finally, a loud noise was heard in the chaparral, the branches were violently pulled back, and a horseman dressed in a dragoon uniform appeared a short distance from the party, toward which he advanced at a gallop.
On coming in front of the Captain, he stopped short, and raised his hand respectfully to the peak of his forage cap.
"Dios guarde a Vm!" he said, "have I the honour of speaking with Captain Don Juan Melendez?"
"I am he," the Captain answered in great surprise; "what do you want?"
"Nothing personally," the trooper said, "but I have to place a despatch in your Excellency's hands."
"A despatch—from whom?"
"From his most Excellent General Don José-Maria Rubio, and the contents of the despatch must be important, for the General ordered me to make the utmost diligence, and I have ridden forty-seven leagues in nineteen hours, in order to arrive more quickly."
"Good!" the Captain answered; "Give it here."
The dragoon drew from his bosom a large letter with a red seal, and respectfully offered it to the officer.
The latter took it and opened it, but, before reading it, he gave the motionless and impassive soldier before him a suspicious glance, which he endured, however, with imperturbable assurance.
The man seemed to be about thirty years of age, tall and well built; he wore his uniform with a certain amount of ease; his intelligent features had an expression of craft and cunning, rendered more marked still by his incessantly moving black eyes, which only rested with considerable hesitation on the Captain.
Sum total, this individual resembled all Mexican soldiers, and there was nothing about him that could attract attention or excite suspicion.
Still it was only with extreme repugnance that the Captain saw himself compelled to enter into relations with him; the reason for this it would certainly have been very difficult, if not impossible for him to say; but there are in nature certain laws which cannot be gainsaid, and which cause us at the mere sight of a person, and before he has even spoken, to feel a sympathy or antipathy for him, and be attracted or repulsed by him. Whence comes this species of secret presentiment which is never wrong in its appreciation? That we cannot explain: we merely confine ourselves to mentioning a fact, whose influence we have often undergone and efficacy recognized, during the course of our chequered life.
We are bound to assert that the Captain did not feel at all attracted toward the man to whom we refer, but, on the contrary, was disposed to place no confidence in him.
"At what place did you leave the General?" he asked, as he mechanically turned in his fingers the open despatch, at which he had not yet looked.
"At Pozo Redondo, a little in advance of the Noria de Guadalupe, Captain."
"Who are you—what is your name?"
"I am the assistente of his most excellent General; my name is Gregorio Lopez."
"Do you know the contents of this despatch?"
"No; but I suppose it is important."
The soldier replied to the Captain's questions with perfect freedom and frankness. It was evident that he was telling the truth.
After a final hesitation, Don Juan made up his mind to read; but he soon began frowning, and an angry expression spread over his features.
This is what the despatch contained:—
"Pozo Redondo."
"General Don José-Maria Rubio, Supreme Military Commandant of the State of Texas, has the honour to inform Captain Don Juan Melendez de Gongora, that fresh troubles have broken out in the state; several parties of bandits and border-ruffians, under the orders of different Chiefs, are going about the country pillaging and burning haciendas, stopping convoys, and interrupting the communications. In the presence of such grave facts, which compromise the public welfare and the safety of the inhabitants, the government, as their duty imperiously orders, have thought fit, in the interest of all, to take general measures to repress these disorders, before they break out on a larger scale. In consequence, Texas is declared under martial law—(here followed the measures adopted by the General to suppress the rebellion, and then the despatch went on as follows)—General Don José-Maria Rubio having been informed by spies, on whose devotion he can trust, that one of the principal insurgent Chiefs, to whom his comrades have given the name of the Jaguar, is preparing to carry off the conducta de plata confided to the escort of Captain Don Juan Melendez de Gongora, and that, for this purpose, the said cabecilla purposes to form an ambuscade on the Rio Seco, a spot favourable for a surprise; General Rubio orders Captain Melendez to let himself be guided by the bearer of the present despatch, a sure and devoted man, who will lead the conducta to the Laguna del Venado, where this conducta will form a junction with a detachment of cavalry sent for the purpose, whose numerical strength will protect it from any aggression. Captain Melendez will take the command of the troops, and join the General at head quarters with the least possible delay."
"Dios y libertad."
"The supreme Military General commanding in the State of Texas,
"DON JOSE-MARIA RUBIO."
After reading this despatch carefully, the Captain raised his head and examined the soldier for an instant with the deepest and most earnest attention.
The latter, leaning on the hilt of his sword, was carelessly playing with his knot, and apparently paying no attention to what was going on around him.
"The order is positive," the Captain repeated several times, "and I must obey it, although everything tells me that this man is a traitor."
Then he added aloud—
"Are you well acquainted with this part of the country?"
"I was born here, Captain," the dragoon replied; "there is not a hidden track I did not traverse in my youth."
"You know that you are to serve as my guide?"
"His Excellency the General did me the honour of telling me so, Captain."
"And you feel certain of guiding us safe and sound to the spot where we are expected?"
"At least I will do all that is necessary."
"Good. Are you tired?"
"My horse is more so than I. If you would grant me another, I would be at your orders immediately, for I see that you are desirous of setting out."
"I am. Choose a horse."
The soldier did not let the order be repeated. Several remounts followed the escort, and he selected one of them, to which he transferred the saddle. In a few minutes he was mounted again.
"I am at your Excellency's orders," he said.
"March," the Captain shouted, and added mentally, "I will not let this scoundrel out of sight during the march."
Military law is inflexible—it has its rules, from which it never departs, and discipline allows of neither hesitation nor tergiversation; the oriental axiom, so much in favour at despotic courts, "to hear is to obey," is rigorously true from a military point of view. Still, however hard this may appear at the first blush, it must be so, for if the right of discussion were granted inferiors with reference to the orders their superiors gave them, all discipline would be destroyed; the soldiers henceforth only obeying their caprices, would grow ungovernable, and the army, instead of rendering the country the services which it has a right to expect from it, would speedily become a scourge.
These reflections, and many others, crossed the Captain's mind, while he thoughtfully followed the guide whom his General's despatch had so singularly forced on him; but the order was clear and peremptory, he was obliged to obey, and he did obey, although he felt convinced that the man to whom he was compelled to trust was unworthy of the confidence placed in him, if he were not an utter traitor.
As for the trooper, he galloped carelessly at the head of the caravan, smoking, laughing, singing, and not seeming to suspect the doubts entertained about him.
It is true that the Captain carefully kept secret the ill opinion he had formed of the guide, and ostensibly placed the utmost confidence in him: for prudence demanded that in the critical situation in which the conducta was placed, those who composed it should not suspect their Chief's anxiety, lest they might be demoralized by the fear of an impending, treachery.
The Captain, before starting, had given the most severe orders that the arms should be in a good state; he sent off scouts ahead, and on the flanks of the troops, to explore the neighbourhood, and be assured that the road was free, and no danger to be apprehended; in a word, he had taken most scrupulously all the measures prudence dictated, in order to guarantee the safety of the journey.
The guide, who was an impassive witness of all these precautions, on whose behalf they were taken with so much ostentation, appeared to approve of them, and even drew attention to the skill the border-ruffians have in gliding through bushes and grass without leaving traces, and the care the scouts must devote to the accomplishment of the mission entrusted to them.
The further the conducta advanced in the direction of the mountains, the more difficult and dangerous the march became; the trees, at first scattered over a large space, became imperceptibly closer, and at last formed a dense forest, through which, at certain spots, they were compelled to cut their way with the axe, owing to the masses of creepers intertwined in each other, and forming an inextricable tangle; then again, there were rather wide streams difficult of approach, which the horses and mules were obliged to ford in the midst of iguanas and alligators, having frequently the water up to their girths.
The immense dome of verdure under which the caravan painfully advanced, utterly hid the sky, and only allowed a few sunbeams to filter through the foliage, which was not sufficient entirely to dissipate the gloom which prevails almost constantly in the virgin forests, even at mid-day.
Europeans, who are only acquainted with the forests of the old world, cannot form even a remote idea of those immense oceans of verdure which in America are called virgin forests.
There the trees form a compact mass, for they are so entwined in each other, and fastened together by a network of lianas which wind round their stems and branches, plunging in the ground to rise again like the pipes of an immense organ, or forming capricious curves, as they rise and descend incessantly amid tufts of the parasite called Spanish beard, which falls from the ends of the branches of all the trees; the soil, covered with detritus of every sort, and humus formed of trees that have died of old age, is hidden beneath a thick grass several feet in height. The trees, nearly all of the same species, offer so little variety, that each of them seems only a repetition of the others.
These forests are crossed in all directions by paths formed centuries agone by the feet of wild beasts, and leading to their mysterious watering-places; here and there beneath the foliage are stagnant marshes, over which myriads of mosquitoes buzz, and from which dense vapours rise that fill the forest with gloom; reptiles and insects of all sorts crawl on the ground, while the cries of birds and the hoarse calls of the wild beasts form a formidable concert which the echoes of the lagoons repeat.
The most hardened wood-rangers enter in tremor the virgin forests, for it is almost impossible to find one's way with certainty, and it is far from safe to trust to the tracks which cross and are confounded; the hunters know by experience that once lost in one of these forests, unless a miracle supervene, they must perish within the walls formed by the tall grass and the curtain of lianas, without hope of being helped or saved by any living being of their own species.
It was a virgin forest the caravan entered at this moment.
The guide pushed on, without the least hesitation, appearing perfectly sure of the road he followed, contenting himself by giving at lengthened intervals a glance to the right or left, but not once checking the pace of his horse.
It was nearly mid-day; the heat was growing stifling, the horses and men, who had been on the march since four in the morning along almost impracticable roads, were exhausted with fatigue, and imperiously claimed a few hours' rest, which was indispensable before proceeding further.
The Captain resolved to let the troop camp in one of those vast clearings, so many of which are found in these parts, and are formed by the fall of trees overthrown by a hurricane, or dead of old age.
The command to halt was given. The soldiers and arrieros gave a sigh of relief, and stopped at once.
The Captain, whose eyes were accidentally fixed at this moment on the guide, saw a cloud of dissatisfaction on his brow; still, feeling he was watched, the man at once recovered himself, pretended to share the general joy, and dismounted.
The horses and mules were unsaddled, that they might browse freely on the young tree shoots and the grass that grew abundantly on the ground.
The soldiers enjoyed their frugal meal, and lay down on their zarapés to sleep.
Ere long, the individuals composing the caravan were slumbering, with the exception of two, the Captain and the guide.
Probably each of them was troubled by thoughts sufficiently serious to drive away sleep, and keep them awake, when all wanted to repose.
A few paces from the clearing, some monstrous iguanas were lying in the sun, wallowing in the grayish mud of a stream whose water ran with a slight murmur through the obstacles of every description that impeded its course. Myriads of insects filled the air with the continued buzzing of their wings; squirrels leaped gaily from branch to branch; the birds, hidden beneath the foliage, were singing cheerily, and here and there above the tall grass might be seen the elegant head and startled eyes of a deer or an ashata, which suddenly rushed beneath the covert with a low of terror.
But the two men were too much occupied with their thoughts to notice what was going on around them.
The Captain raised his head at the very moment when the guide had fixed on him a glance of strange meaning: confused at being thus taken unawares, he tried to deceive the officer by speaking to him—old-fashioned tactics, however, by which the latter was not duped.
"It is a hot day, Excellency," he said, with a nonchalant air.
"Yes," the Captain answered, laconically.
"Do you not feel any inclination for sleep?"
"No."
"For my part, I feel my eyelids extraordinarily heavy, and my eyes close against my will; with your permission I will follow the example of our comrades, and take a few moments of that refreshing sleep they seem to enjoy so greatly."
"One moment—I have something to say to you."
"Very good," he said, with an air of the utmost indifference.
He rose, stifling a sigh of regret, and seated himself by the Captain's side, who withdrew to make room for him under the protecting shadow of the large tree which stretched out above his head its giant arms, loaded with vines and Spanish beard.
"We are about to talk seriously," the Captain went on.
"As you please."
"Can you be frank?"
"What?" the soldier said, thrown off his guard by the suddenness of the question.
"Or, if you prefer it, can you be honest?"
"That depends."
The Captain looked at him.
"Will you answer my questions?"
"I do not know."
"What do you say?"
"Listen, Excellency," the guide said, with a simple look, "my mother, worthy woman that she was, always recommended me to distrust two sorts of people, borrowers and questioners, for she said, with considerable sense, the first attack your purse, the others your secrets."
"Then you have a secret?"
"Not the least in the world."
"Then what do you fear?"
"Not much, it is true. Well, question me, Excellency, and I will try to answer you."
The Mexican peasant, the Manzo or civilized Indian, has a good deal of the Norman peasant about him, in so far as it is impossible to obtain from him a positive answer to any question asked him. The Captain was compelled to be satisfied with the guide's half promise, so he went on:—
"Who are you?"
"I?"
"Yes, you."
The guide began laughing.
"You can see plainly enough," he said.
The Captain shook his head.
"I do not ask you what you appear to be, but what you really are."
"Why, señor, what man can answer for himself, and know positively who he is?"
"Listen, scoundrel," the Captain continued, in a menacing tone, "I do not mean to lose my time in following you through all the stories you may think proper to invent. Answer my questions plainly, or, if not—"
"If not?" the guide impudently interrupted him.
"I blow out your brains like a dog's!" he replied, as he drew a pistol from his belt, and hastily cocked it.
The soldier's eye flashed fire, but his features remained impassive, and not a muscle of his face stirred.
"Oh, oh, señor Captain," he said, in a sombre voice, "you have a singular way of questioning your friends."
"Who assures me that you are a friend? I do not know you."
"That is true, but you know the person who sent me to you; that person is your Chief as he is mine. I obeyed him by coming to find you, as you ought to obey him by following the orders he has given you."
"Yes, but those orders were sent me through you."
"What matter?"
"Who guarantees that the despatch you have brought me was really handed to you?"
"Caramba, Captain, what you say is anything but flattering to me," the guide replied with an offended look.
"I know it; unhappily we live at a time when it is so difficult to distinguish friends from foes, that I cannot take too many precautions to avoid falling into a snare; I am entrusted by Government with a very delicate mission, and must therefore behave with great reserve toward persons who are strangers to me."
"You are right, Captain; hence, in spite of the offensive nature of your suspicions, I will not feel affronted by what you say, for exceptional positions require exceptional measures. Still, I will strive by my conduct to prove to you how mistaken you are."
"I shall be glad if I am mistaken; but take care. If I perceive anything doubtful, either in your actions or your words, I shall not hesitate to blow out your brains. Now that you are warned, it is your place to act in accordance."
"Very good, Captain, I will run the risk. Whatever happens. I feel certain that my conscience will absolve me, for I shall have acted for the best."
This was said with an air of frankness which, in spite of his suspicions, had its effect on the Captain.
"We shall see," he said; "shall we soon get out of this infernal forest in which we now are?"
"We have only two hours' march left; at sunset we shall join the persons who are awaiting us."
"May Heaven grant it!" the Captain muttered.
"Amen!" the soldier said boldly.
"Still, as you have not thought proper to answer any of the questions I asked you, you must not feel offended if I do not let you out of sight from this moment, and keep you by my side when we start again."
"You can do as you please, Captain; you have the power, if not the right, on your side, and I am compelled to yield to your will."
"Very good, now you can sleep if you think proper."
"Then you have nothing more to say to me?"
"Nothing."
"In that case I will avail myself of the permission you are kind enough to grant me, and try to make up for lost time."
The soldier then rose, stiffing a long yawn, walked a few paces off, lay down on the ground, and seemed within a few minutes plunged in a deep sleep.
The Captain remained awake. The conversation he had held with his guide only increased his anxiety, by proving to him that this man concealed great cunning beneath an abrupt and trivial manner. In fact, he had not answered one of the questions asked him, and after a few minutes had succeeded in making the Captain turn from the offensive to the defensive, by giving him speciously logical arguments to which the officer was unable to raise any objection.
Don Juan was, therefore at this moment in the worst temper a man of honour can be in, who is dissatisfied with himself and others, fully convinced that he was in the right, but compelled, to a certain extent, to allow himself in the wrong.
The soldiers, as generally happens in such cases, suffered from their chief's ill temper; for the officer, afraid of adding the darkness to the evil chances he fancied he had against him, and not at all desirous to be surprised by night in the inextricable windings of the forest, cut the halt short much sooner than he would have done under different circumstances.