"Good! My brother is a prudent chief. He will succeed. I will do exactly as he has told me; and he, what will he do while I am executing this portion of the general plan?"
A strange smile played on the Black Bear's lips.
"He will see," he said laying his hand on the Comanche's shoulder. "Let him act as a chief, and I promise him a glorious victory."
"Good!" the Comanche made answer. "My brother is the first of his nation; he knows how he should behave; the Apaches are not women. I go to rejoin my warriors."
"'Tis well; my brother has understood. Tomorrow at the rising of the moon."
The Jester bowed, and the two chiefs separated, apparently the best friends in the world. A few moments later the greatest animation prevailed in the Apache camp; the women struck the tents and loaded the mules, the children lassoed and saddled the horses, and all preparations were made for their departure.
The next day at the rising of the moon, as had been agreed, the Jester ordered his detachment to set out. Presently a party of horsemen who had hurried onwards threw lighted torches amid the shrubs, and in a few minutes an immense curtain of flames rose to the sky, and completely veiled the horizon. The Comanches carried out the orders of the Apache chief with such rapidity and intelligence, that in less than an hour all was consumed.
The Black Bear, concealed in the island with his war party, had not made a move. The traces left by the Comanches were, alas! very visible, for the country only that morning so lovely, rich, and luxuriant, was at present gloomy and desolate. There was no verdure, no flowers, no birds hidden beneath the frondage, and twittering as if to outrival each other.
The Indians' plan would have met with perfect success through the arrangement of the campaigners, and the Guetzalli colonists would have been surprised, had other men than Belhumeur and his friends been on the route of the Indian army.
The Canadian was watching. At the first smoke that arose in the distance he understood the intention of the redskins, and without losing a moment he sent off Eagle-head to the colony to inform the count of what was taking place. Still, behind the fire, the Comanches were arriving at full speed destroying and trampling beneath their horse's hoofs what the flames might have spared.
Night had completely set in when the Jester had arrived in sight of the colony. Supposing that, through the rapidity of his march, the white men would not have had time to place themselves on the defensive, he ambushed a portion of his men, placed himself at the head of the rest, and crawled with all the precautions employed in such cases toward the isthmus battery.
No one appeared: the glacis and entrenchments seemed abandoned. The Jester uttered his war cry, rose suddenly, and bounding forward like a jaguar, crossed the entrenchment, followed by his warriors. But, at the moment when the Comanches prepared to leap into the interior, a fearful discharge at point blank range levelled more than one half of the Indian detachment, while the survivors took to flight.
The Comanches had one great disadvantage—they possessed no firearms. The musketry decimated them, and they could only reply by firing their arrows, or by hurling their javelins. Noticing, therefore, though too late for himself, that the French were on their guard, the Jester, desperate at the check he had experienced, and his serious losses, was unwilling to further weaken the confidence of his warriors by useless tentatives. He concealed his detachment under the cover of the virgin forest, and resolved to wait for the Black Bear's signal ere he made a move.
Don Louis had followed Eagle-head. The Indian, after several turnings, led him almost opposite the isthmus battery to the entrance of a dense thicket of cactus, aloes, and floripondios.
"My brother can dismount," he said to the Frenchman; "we have arrived."
"Arrived where?" Louis asked, looking around him in vain.
Without replying the chief took the horse, and led it away. Louis, during the interval looked all around him: but his researches had no result.
"Well," Eagle-head asked on his return, "has my brother found it?"
"On my faith, no, chief. I give it up."
The Indian smiled.
"The palefaces have the eyes of moles," he said.
"It is possible; at any rate, I should feel obliged by your lending me yours."
"Good! My brother shall see."
Eagle-head glided along the ground, and Louis imitated him: in this way they entered the thicket. After about a quarter of an hour of this exercise, which was more than fatiguing, the Indian stopped.
"Let my brother look," he said.
They were in a small clearing, formed in the midst of an inextricable medley of branches and shrubs, completed by a profusion of leaves so artistically interlaced, that without deep observation it would be impossible to suspect the existence of this hiding place. Belhumeur and the two Mexicans were philosophically smoking while awaiting the return of the envoy.
"You are welcome," the Canadian said, so soon as he caught sight of him. "How do you like our camp? Charming, is it not? Eagle-head discovered it. Those devils of Indians have a peculiar talent for forming an ambuscade. We are as safe here as in Québec Cathedral."
During this flood of words, to which he only responded by a hearty pressure of the hand, Louis had comfortably seated himself by the side of his companions, and began to do honour, with excellent appetite, to the provisions they had put aside for him.
"But where are the horses?" he asked.
"Here, two paces from us; not to be found by anyone save ourselves."
"Very good. Shall we be able to get them so soon as we want them?"
"Pardieu!"
"The fact is we shall probably need them soon."
"Ah, ah! But," he added, checking himself, "I am chattering, and not noticing that you must be probably savagely hungry. Finish your meal, and we will talk afterwards."
"Oh! I can answer very well while eating."
"Wo! No, everything has its proper time. Finish your breakfast: we will listen to you afterwards."
When Louis had finished eating he described fully the way in which he had carried out his mission.
"All that is very good," Belhumeur said when he had ended his report. "I believe that we can henceforth feel assured about the safety of our countrymen, especially with the help of the forty peons, who will take the enemy between two fires."
"Yes, but where shall they be concealed?"
"Leave that to Eagle-head. The chief knows the country thoroughly, he has hunted in it for a long time. I am certain he will find a suitable place for the Mexicans. What do you say, chief?"
"It is easy to hide one's self in the prairie," the chief answered laconically.
"Yes," Don Martial remarked, "but there is one thing you forget."
"What?"
"I live on the frontier, and have long been accustomed to Indian tactics. The Apaches will arrive, preceded by a curtain of smoke; the plain will be only one vast sheet of flame, in the midst of which we shall struggle in vain, and which will end by swallowing us up, if we do not take the proper precautions."
"That is true: it is a serious matter. Unfortunately, I only see one way of escaping from the danger, and that we cannot employ."
"What is it?"
"By Jove! Making off."
"I know another," Eagle-head observed.
"You, chief? Then you will tell us of it."
"Let the palefaces listen. The Rio Gila, like all other large rivers, brings down with it dead trees, at times in such quantities that at certain spots they completely block up the passage, in time these trees press against each other, and their branches become entwined; then grass grows, to cement them more firmly together; the sand and earth are piled up gradually on these immense rafts, which at a distance resemble islands, until a storm comes as a flood, which breaks up the raft, and bears it away."
"I know that. I have seen frequent instances of it, chief," Belhumeur said. "These rafts at last grow to look so like islands that the man most accustomed to desert life and the grand spectacles of nature is frequently deceived by them. I understand all the advantages your idea possesses for us; but, unhappily, I do not see how it will be possible for us to carry it out."
"In the simplest way. The Indian's eye is good; he sees everything within two bow-shots of him. Above the great lodge of the palefaces, did not my brother notice an islet about fifty yards almost from the bank?"
"What you say is quite correct," Belhumeur exclaimed; "I can call the island to mind now."
"From the position it occupies there will be nothing to apprehend from fire," Louis remarked. "If it is large enough to hold us all it will be extremely useful as an advanced post."
"We have not a moment to lose: we must take possession of it at once, and when we are certain that it offers all we want we will lead the peons to it."
"Let us start, then, without further delay," the Tigrero said as he rose.
The others imitated him, and the five men left the clearing. After fetching their horses they proceeded toward the island under the guidance of Eagle-head.
The Indian chief had not deceived them. With that infallible glance his countrymen possess, he had at once formed a correct opinion of the spot he so cleverly selected. There was another consideration highly advantageous for the adventurers—a thick line of mangroves bordered the river's edge, and advanced sufficiently far into the stream to diminish the distance separating the isle from the mainland, while forming a natural defence for men concealed in the tall grass; for it was perfectly impossible that the Indians could hide themselves in the mangroves to harass their enemies, who, on the other hand, could do them considerable mischief.
This islet (we will retain the name, though it was really only a raft) was covered with a close, strong herbage, about two yards in height, in the midst of which, men and horses completely disappeared. When the reconnoissance was ended, Belhumeur and the two Mexicans installed themselves in the centre, while Louis and Eagle-head returned to the bank to go and meet the capataz and his people.
Don Martial did not care to accompany them. So near the colony he was afraid of being recognised by Don Sylva, and preferred to maintain, as long as he could, an incognito necessary for the ulterior success of his plans. Louis, after making him the offer to accompany them, pressed him no further, and appeared to accept his refusal without any discussion. The truth was, that the count felt, without being able to explain it, a species of repulsion for this man, whose cautious manner and continual hesitation had ill disposed him in his favour.
Eagle-head and Louis, certain that the Black Bear had really retired with his detachment, and left no spies on the prairie, thought it unnecessary to let the Mexicans take a long and wearisome ride before leading them to the hiding place; consequently, they hid themselves in the shrubs at the end of the isthmus to watch their exit, and lead them straight to the spot.
In the meanwhile the news Don Louis had carried to the colony had turned everything topsy-turvy. Although, since the first foundation of the hacienda, the Indians had constantly tried to harass the French, the various attempts they made had been unimportant, and this was really the first time they would have a serious contest with their ferocious enemies.
The Count de Lhorailles had with him about two hundred Dauph'yeers, who had come from Valparaiso, Guyaquil, Callao, and the other Pacific ports, which are always crowded with adventurers of every description. These worthy people were a singular mixture of all the nationalities peopling the two hemispheres, although the French supplied the largest factor. Half bandits, half soldiers, these men put the utmost faith in the chief they had freely chosen.
The news of the attack premeditated by the Apaches was received by the garrison with shouts of joy and enthusiasm. It was an amusement for these adventurers to exchange shots, or rub the rust off a little, as they naïvely said in their picturesque language. They desired before all to prove to the Apaches the difference existing between the Creole colonists, whom they had been in the habit of killing and plundering from time immemorial, and Europeans whom they did not yet know.
The count, therefore, had no need to recommend firmness to them; he was on the contrary, obliged to repress their ardour, and beg them to be prudent, by promising that they should soon have an opportunity of meeting the redskins in the open field.
As soon as the defensive preparations were made the count left the details to his two lieutenants, two old soldiers, on whom he believed he could count; then he thought of Blas Vasquez and his peons. In the probable event that the Indians had left spies round the colony, they must be persuaded that this band had really retired. For that purpose several mules were laden with provisions, as if for a long journey; then the capataz, well instructed, put himself at the head of the squadron, and left the colony, rifle on thigh.
The count, Don Sylva, and the other inhabitants followed the party with an interest easy to comprehend, ready to help them if attacked. But nothing stirred in the prairie; the calm and silence continued to prevail, and the Mexicans soon disappeared in the tall grass.
"I cannot at all understand the Indian tactics," Don Sylva muttered thoughtfully. "As they have allowed that party to pass so quietly, they must be planning some trick which offers a good prospect of success."
"We shall soon know what we are to expect," the count replied; "besides, we are ready to receive them. I am only sorry that Doña Anita should be here; not that she runs the slightest risk, but the sound of the contest may terrify her."
"No, señor conde," the lady said, who came from the house at the moment; "fear nothing of that nature for me. I am a true Mexican, and not one of your European dames, whom the slightest thing causes to faint. Often, in circumstances graver than these, I have heard the Apache war yell echo in my ears, without, however, feeling that intense alarm you seem to apprehend from me today."
After uttering these words with that haughty and profoundly contemptuous accent women know so well to employ to a man they do not love, Doña Anita passed before the count without deigning him a glance, and took her father's arm.
The Frenchman made no reply: he bit his lips till they bled, and bowed as if he did not understand the epigram launched at him. He intended to have an explanation with his betrothed at a later date; for though he did not love her, as often happens in such cases, he did not pardon her being loved by another, and especially for regarding him with indifference; but the events which had hurried on with such rapidity during the last two days had hitherto prevented him asking this important interview of the doña.
The hacendero's daughter was an Andalusian from head to foot, all fire and passion, only obeying the precipitate movements of her heart. Loving with all the strength of her soul, safeguarded by her love for Don Martial, she had judged the Count de Lhorailles coolly, and guessed the speculator under the garb of the gentleman; hence she made up her mind at once to render it an impossibility ever to become his wife. To commence an overt struggle with her father—she knew, too well to risk it, the old Spanish blood that boiled in his veins. A woman's strength is her apparent weakness; her means of defence, stratagem. As much Indian as she was Spaniard, Anita chose stratagem, that terrible woman's weapon, which often renders her so dangerous.
Blas Vazquez, the capataz, had seen the birth of Doña Anita: his wife had been her nurse—that is, he was devoted to the young girl, and on a sign from her he would have pledged his soul to the demon.
When Don Louis visited the hacienda the young lady was considerably curious as to the motive of his arrival. After the Frenchman's departure she asked coolly for information from the capataz, who saw no harm in giving it to her, the more so because everyone in the colony would soon know the news the count brought. The only thing no one could know, and which Doña Anita guessed with that heart instinct which never deceives, was the presence of the Tigrero among the hunters ambushed in the vicinity of the hacienda.
On leaving her at Guaymas, Don Martial had said that he would constantly watch over her, and save her from the fate with which she was menaced. After that, it was plain that he must have followed her. Had he done so (which she did not for a moment doubt), he must certainly be among the brave men who at that moment were devoting themselves to save her, while seeking to protect the colony.
The logic of the heart is the only species that is positive and never deceives. We have seen that Doña Anita, enlightened by passion, reasoned justly. When the girl had drawn from the capataz all the information she desired,—
"Don Blas," she said to him, "it is probable that if the colony is attacked, after the services you will be able to render, and when my father and Don Gaëtano no longer want you and your men, that you will receive orders to return to Guaymas."
"'Tis probable, certainly, señora," the worthy man answered.
"In that case you will have no objection to do me a service?" she went on, looking at him with her most fascinating smile.
"You know, señorita, that I would throw myself into the fire for you."
"I do not wish you to put your friendship to such a rude trial, my good Blas; still I thank you for your kindly feeling."
"What can I do to oblige you?"
"Oh! A very easy matter. You know," she said lightly, "that for a long time I have wished to have two jaguar skins as a carpet for my bedroom?"
"No," he replied simply; "I was not aware of it."
"Ah! Well, I tell it you now, so you know it."
"I shall not forget it, señorita, you may be sure."
"Thanks; but that is not exactly what I want."
"What?"
"That you could get the skins for me."
"Oh! So soon as I am my own master again you can depend on me."
"I do not wish you to expose your life to satisfy a whim."
"Oh, señorita!" he said reproachfully.
"No; I have a way to procure them more easily."
"Ah! Very good. Let us see."
"A renowned Tigrero arrived at Guaymas a few days back."
"Don Martial Asuzena?" he quickly interrupted her.
"Do you know him?"
"Who does not know the Tigrero?"
"Well, I heard that he has brought from his last hunt on the western prairies some magnificent jaguar skins, which, I have no doubt, he would be willing to sell at a fair price."
"I am certain of it."
"Here," she said, drawing a small, carefully-sealed note from her bosom, "is a letter you will give that man. I describe in it the way in which I should like to have the skins prepared, and the price I am willing to give. Here is the money," she added, as she handed him a purse; "you will arrange the matter for me."
"There was no occasion to write," the capataz remarked.
"Pardon me, my friend, you have so many things to think of, that a trifle like this might easily slip your memory."
"Well, that is possible; so perhaps you have acted wisely."
"Well, then, it is agreed—you will perform my commission?"
"Can you doubt it?"
"No, my friend. But stay, one word more. Do not say anything to my father. You know how kind he is; he would want to make me a present of them, and I wish to pay for the skins out of my own purse."
The capataz began laughing at the joke. The worthy man was delighted at sharing a secret, however slight it might be, with his darling child, as he called his young mistress.
"It is settled," he said; "I will be dumb."
The girl gave him a friendly nod and withdrew. What was the meaning of the note? Why did she write it? We shall soon learn.
The day passed at the hacienda without further incidents. The count made several attempts to have a conversation with the doña, which she constantly sought to avoid.
Blas Vasquez, on quitting the colony, struck the Guaymas road, and made his troop go at a sharp trot, through fear of a surprise. He had scarce lost sight of the colony, and entered the tall grass, when two men, leaping into the middle of the path, checked their horses about twenty paces ahead of him. One of them was an Indian; the other the capataz recognised at a glance as the man who had come to the hacienda that morning. Vasquez commanded his men to halt, and advancing alone to meet the stranger, said,—
"By what accident do I meet you here, señor Francés? You are still far from the meeting place you indicated yourself."
"We are so," was the reply; "but as we found no Apache trail in the prairie we thought it useless to give you a long journey. I have been sent to conduct you to the ambush we have chosen."
"You did right. Have we far to go?"
"No, hardly a quarter of an hour's ride. We are going to that islet, which you can see by standing in your stirrups," he added, stretching out his arm in the direction of the river.
"Eh?" the capataz said. "The spot is well chosen: we can command the river from there."
"That is the reason why he selected it."
"Be good enough, then, to serve as our guide, señor Francés: we will follow you."
The detachment set out again. As Don Louis had stated, within a quarter of an hour the capataz and the peons were encamped on the islet with the five adventurers, so well masked by grassland mangroves, that it was impossible to see them from either bank of the river.
So soon as the capataz had performed his duties as head of the detachment, he sat down at the bivouac fire by the side of his new friends, to whom Don Louis presented him. The first person Blas perceived was Don Martial, the Tigrero. At the sight of him he could hardly refrain from a movement of surprise.
"Caspita!" he exclaimed, with a loud laugh; "the meeting is curious."
"Why so?" the Mexican asked, rather annoyed by this recognition, which he had not expected, for he did not think the capataz knew him.
"Are you not Don Martial Asuzena?"
"Yes," he replied, more and more restless.
"My faith! I should have found it difficult to meet you at Guaymas; but I did not expect to find you here."
"Explain yourself, I beg. I cannot understand you at all."
"My young mistress gave me a message for you."
"What do you say?" the Tigrero exclaimed, his heart beginning to palpitate.
"What I say, nothing else. Doña Anita wishes to buy two jaguar skins of you, it appears."
"Of me?"
"Yes."
Don Martial regarded him with such an air of amazement that the capataz began again laughing heartily. This laughter aroused the young man; made him conjecture there was some mystery in the affair; and that if he continued to look so astonished, he would arouse suspicions in the worthy man, who probably did not know the word of the riddle.
"'Tis true," he said, as if trying to remember something, "I fancy I can call to mind some time back—"
"Then," the capataz interrupted him, "it's all right; besides, I was asked to hand you a letter so soon as I met you."
"A letter from whom?"
"Why, from my mistress, I suppose."
"From Doña Anita?"
"Who else?"
"Give it me quickly," the Tigrero exclaimed in great agitation.
The capataz handed it to him. Don Martial tore it from his hands, broke the seal with trembling fingers, and devoured it with his eyes. When he had finished reading it he concealed it in his bosom.
"Well," the capataz asked him, "what does my mistress say?"
"Only what you told me yourself," the Tigrero replied, in anything but a firm voice.
Blas Vasquez shook his head.
"Hem! That man is certainly hiding something from me," he muttered. "Can Doña Anita have deceived me?"
In the meanwhile the Tigrero walked about in agitation, apparently revolving some important project. At length he approached Belhumeur, who was smoking silently, and, leaning over his ear, uttered a few words in a low voice, to which the Canadian answered with a nod of assent. A flash of joy illumined the Tigrero's gloomy face as he made a sign to Cucharés to follow him, and quitted the bivouac a few minutes later. Don Martial and the lepero, both mounted, swam across the space separating them from the main land. The capataz perceived them at the moment they landed, and uttered a cry of astonishment.
"Why," he exclaimed, "the Tigrero is leaving us. Where can he be going?"
Belhumeur regarded the Mexican with his bittersweet look, and replied, with a jesting accent,—
"Who knows? Perhaps he is going to carry the answer to the letter you gave him."
"That is not impossible," the capataz remarked thoughtfully, little suspecting that he spoke the exact truth.
At this moment the sun set in floods of purple and gold far away in the horizon behind the snow-clad peaks of the lofty mountains of the Sierra Madre, and night soon stretched her black cerecloth over the earth.
Events have so multiplied during the course of this night, that to keep headway with the incidents, we are compelled to pass incessantly from one person to another.
Don Martial was rich—very rich—eager for excitement, and endowed with warlike instincts. He had only embraced the profession of Tigrero in order to have a plausible excuse for his constant travels in the desert, which he had passed his whole life in travelling in every direction.
The Tigreros are generally wood rangers or old hunters, who, for a certain salary and a premium on each hide, engage with a hacendero to kill the wild beasts that decimate his herds. What others did for money, he performed simply for pleasure; hence he was greatly liked on the frontiers, and especially welcomed by all the hacenderos, who found in him not only the clever and daring hunter, but also the boon companion and the caballero.
Don Martial saw Doña Anita for the first time when the chances of his adventurous life had led him to a hacienda belonging to Don Sylva, where, within the space of a month, he killed some dozen wild beasts. As the Tigrero constantly watched the young girl, whom he could not see without falling madly in love with, it happened that one day, when Anita's horse ran away, he was near enough to save her at the peril of his own life. It was through this event that the girl first noticed and spoke to him. We know the rest.
Cucharés was not at all pleased with the sudden departure from the island. He inwardly cursed the folly which made him attach himself to a man like him he now followed, who might expose him at any moment to the chances of getting an arrow through his body, without any profit or available excuse. Still Cucharés was not the man to feel long angry with the Tigrero. He knew that grave reasons alone could have induced him to leave a shelter at that hour of the night, resign the aid of the hunters, and go wandering about the desert without any apparent object. He burned to know the reasons; but he knew that Don Martial was no great talker, and had a great objection to having his secrets spied out; and as, in spite of all his bounce, he entertained a great respect for the Tigrero, mingled with a decent amount of fear, he deferred to a more favourable moment the numerous questions he longed to ask him.
The two men, then, marched on side by side silently, allowing the reins to hang on their horses' heads, and each indulging in his own reflections. Still Cucharés remarked that Don Martial, instead of seeking the cover of the forest, obstinately followed the river bank, and kept his horse as close to it as possible.
The darkness grew rapidly denser around them; distant objects began to be lost in the masses of shadow on the horizon, and they soon found themselves in complete obscurity. For some time the lepero tried, by coughing or uttering exclamations, to attract his comrade's attention, though unsuccessfully; but when he saw that the night had completely set in, while the Tigrero marched on without appearing to notice the fact, he at length mustered up courage to address him.
"Don Martial," he said.
"Well," the latter replied carelessly.
"Do you not think it is time for us to stop a little?"
"What for?"
"What for?" the lepero replied, with a bound of surprise.
"Yes; we have not arrived yet."
"Then we are going somewhere?"
"Why else should we have left our friends?"
"That's true. Where are we going, though? That is what I should like to know."
"You will soon do so."
"I confess that I should be glad of it."
There was again silence, during which they continued to advance. They had left the hill of Guetzalli about two musket shots behind them, and reached a sort of creek, which through the windings of the river, was almost parallel with the back of the hacienda, whose gloomy and imposing mass rose before them. Don Martial stopped.
"We have arrived," he said.
"At last!" the lepero muttered with a sigh of satisfaction.
"I mean to say," the Tigrero went on, "that the easiest part of our expedition is ended."
"We are making an expedition then?"
"By Jove! Do you fancy, then, my good fellow, that I am marching along the banks of the Gila merely for amusement?"
"That surprised me, too."
"Now our expedition will speedily commence in reality."
"Good!"
"I must warn you, however, that it is rather dangerous; however, I counted on you."
"Thanks," Cucharés answered, making a grimace which had some pretensions to resemble a smile. The truth is, the lepero would have preferred that his friend had not given him this proof of confidence. Don Martial continued,—
"We are going there;" and he extended his arm in the direction of the river.
"Where then? To the hacienda?"
"Yes."
"You wish us to be cut in pieces."
"How so?"
"Do you believe we shall reach the hacienda without being discovered?"
"We will try it at any rate."
"Yes; and as we shall not succeed, those demons of Frenchmen, who are on the watch, will take us for savages, and be safe to shoot at us."
"It is a risk to run."
"Thanks! I prefer remaining here, for I confess I am not yet mad enough to put myself in the wolf's jaws for mere sport. Go where you please, but I stay here."
The Tigrero could not suppress a smile.
"The danger is not so great as you suppose," he said. "We are expected at the hacienda by someone who will doubtlessly have moved the sentinels from the spot where we shall land."
"That is possible, but I do not care to try the experiment, for a bullet never pardons; besides, those Frenchmen are tremendous marksmen."
The Tigrero made no reply; he did not seem even to have heard his companion's remark. His mind was elsewhere. With his body bent forward, he was listening. During the last few minutes the desert had assumed a singular appearance. It woke up. All sorts of noises were heard from the depths of the thickets and clearings. Animals of every description rushed from the covert, and madly passed the two men without noticing them. The birds startled from their first sleep, rose uttering shrill cries, and circled in the air. In the river might be seen the outlines of wild beasts swimming vigorously to reach the other bank. In a word, something extraordinary was taking place.
At intervals dry crackling sounds and hoarse murmurs, like those of rising water, broke the silence, and became with each moment more intense. On the extreme verge of the horizon a large band of bright red, growing wider from minute to minute, spread over the scene a purple and gold glare, which gave it a fantastic appearance. Already, on two different occasions, enormous clouds of smoke spangled with sparks had whirled over the heads of the two men.
"Halloh! What is happening now?" the lepero suddenly exclaimed. "Look at our horses, Don Martial."
In fact, the noble beasts, with neck outstretched and ears laid back, were breathing heavily, stamping on the ground, and trying to escape their riders.
"Caspita!" the Tigrero said calmly, "They smell the fire, that is all."
"What fire? Do you think the prairie is on fire?"
"Of course. You can see it as well as I if you like."
"Hem! What Is the meaning of that?"
"Not much. It is one of the ordinary Indian tricks. We are in the Comanche moon: are you not aware of that?"
"I beg your pardon, I am not a wood ranger. I confess to you that all this alarms me greatly, and that I would willingly give a trifle to be out of it."
"You are a child," Don Martial answered him laughingly. "It is evident that the Indians have fired the prairie to conceal their numbers: they are coming up behind the fire. You will soon hear their war cry sounding amid the clouds of smoke and fire which are approaching, and will soon surround us. By remaining here you run three risks—of being roasted, scalped, or killed: three most unpleasant things, I grant, and which I do not think will suit you. You had better come with me. If you are killed, well, what then? It is a risk to run. Come, dismount; the fire is gaining on us: soon we shall not have the chance. What will you do?"
"I will follow you," the lepero replied in a mournful voice. "I must. I was mad—deuce take me!—to leave Guaymas, where I was so happy—where I lived without working—to come and thrust my head into such wasps' nests. I assure you that if I escape he will be a sharp fellow who catches me here a second time.
"Bah, bah! People always say that. Make haste; we have no time to lose."
In fact, the desert for a distance of several leagues burned like the crater of an immense volcano; the flames undulated and shot along like the waves of the sea, twisting and felling the largest trees like wisps of straw. From the thick curtain of copper-coloured smoke which preceded the flames there escaped, at each moment, bands of coyotes, buffaloes, and jaguars, which, maddened with terror, rushed into the river, uttering yells and deafening cries.
Don Martial and the lepero entered the water; and their noble animals, impelled by their instinct, hurried in the direction of the other bank.
This part of the desert formed a strange contrast to that which the men were leaving. The latter appeared an immense furnace, from which issued vague rumours, cries of distress, agony and terror; a sea of fire, with its billows and majestic waves, whose devouring activity swallowed up everything on their passage, crossing valleys, escalading mountains, and reducing to impalpable ashes the products of the vegetable and animal kingdoms.
The Gila, at this period of the year swollen by the rains which had fallen in the sierra, had a width double of what it was in summer. At that period its current becomes strong, and frequently dangerous through its rapidity; but, at the moment our adventurers crossed it, the numerous animals which sought to cross it simultaneously in a dense body had so broken its force, that they reached the other bank in a comparatively short period.
"Eh!" Cucharés observed at the moment the horses struck land and began ascending the bank, "Did you not tell me, Don Martial, that we were going to the hacienda? We are not taking the road, I fancy."
"You fancy wrong, comrade. Remember this—in the desert a man must always appear to turn his back on the object he wishes to reach, or he will never arrive."
"Which means?"
"That we are going to hobble our horses under this tuft of mesquites and cedar-wood trees, where they will be in perfect safety, and then go straight to the hacienda."
The Tigrero immediately dismounted, led his horse under the shelter of the great trees, took off its bridle in order that it might graze, hobbled it carefully, and returned to the bank.
Cucharés, with that resolution of despair which, under certain circumstances, bears a striking resemblance to courage, imitated his companion's movements point for point. The worthy lepero had at length formed an heroic resolve. Persuaded that he was lost, he yielded himself to the guidance of his lucky or unlucky star with that half timid fanaticism which can only be compared with that found among the Easterns.
As we have said, this side of the river was plunged in shade and silence, and the adventurers were temporarily protected from any danger.
"Stay," the lepero again remarked; "it is a good distance from this place to the hacienda; I can never swim it."
"Patience. We shall find, I am certain, if we take the trouble to look, means to shorten it. Ah, look?" he said, a moment later. "What did I say to you?"
The Tigrero pointed out to the lepero a small canoe fastened to a stake in a small creek.
"The colonists often come here to fish," he continued: "they have several canoes concealed like this at various spots. We will take this one, and in a few moments we shall reach our destination. Do you know how to manage a paddle?"
"Yes, when I am not afraid."
Don Martial looked at him for a few seconds, then laying his hand roughly on his shoulder, said in a sharp voice:—
"Listen, Cucharés, my friend. I have no time to discuss the matter with you; I have extremely serious reasons for acting as I am now doing. I want on your part hearty co-operation, so take warning in time. You know me: at the first suspicious movement I will blow out your brains as I would a coyote's. Now help me to launch the canoe and start."
The lepero understood—resigned himself. In a few minutes the canoe was ready and the two men in it. The passage they had to make to reach the back of the hacienda was not long, but bristled with dangers. In the first place, through the strength of the current which bore with it a large quantity of dead trees, most of them still having their branches, and which, floating half submerged in the water, threatened at each pull to pierce the frail boat. Next, the animals which continued to shun the fire, crossed the river in compact bands; and if the canoe were entangled in one of these manadas mad with terror, it must be crushed with its passengers. The lightest danger the adventurers ran was the receipt of a bullet from the sentinels hidden in the bushes which defended the approach to the colony on the river side. But this danger was as nothing compared with the others to which we have alluded. There was every reason for assuming that the French, aroused by the flames, would direct all their attention to the land side. Besides, Don Martial believed he had nothing to fear from the sentries, who would probably have been withdrawn.
At a signal from Don Martial, Cucharés took up the paddles, and they started. The fire was rapidly retiring in a western direction while continuing its ravages. The canoe advanced slowly and cautiously through the innumerable objects which each moment checked its progress.
Cucharés, pale as a corpse, with hair standing on end, and eyes enlarged by terror, rowed on frenziedly, while recommending his soul fervently to all the numberless saints of the Spanish calendar, for he was more than ever convinced that he would never emerge in safety from the enterprise on which he had so foolishly entered.
In fact, the position was a grave one, and it required all the resolution with which the Tigrero was endowed, as well as the excitement caused by the object he hoped to attain, to keep him from sharing the terror which had seized on his comrade. The further they advanced the greater the obstacles grew. Obliged to make continued turns, in consequence of the trees that barred their passage, they only turned on their own axis, as it were, forced to pass the same spot a dozen times, and watch on all sides at once, not to be sunk by the objects, either visible or invisible, which incessantly rose before them.
For about two hours they continued this wearying navigation; but they insensibly approached the hacienda, whose sombre mass stood out from the starlit sky. Suddenly a terrible cry, raised by a considerable number of voices, filled the air, and a discharge of artillery and musketry roared like thunder.
"Holy Virgin!" Cucharés exclaimed, letting go the paddles and clasping his hands, "We are lost!"
"On the contrary," the Tigrero said, "we are saved. The Indians are attacking the colony; all the French are at the entrenchments, and no one will dream of watching us. Bold, my good boy! One more good pull, and all will be over."
"May God hear you!" the lepero muttered, beginning to paddle again with a trembling hand.
"Ah! The attack is serious, it appears. All the better. The harder they fight over there, the less attention will be paid us. Let us go on."
The two adventurers, hidden in the shade, paddled on silently, and gradually approached the hacienda. Don Martial looked searchingly around: all was silent in this part of the river, which was half a pistol shot distant from the building. There was no reason for supposing that they had been seen. The Tigrero bent over his companion.
"That will do," he whispered; "we have arrived."
"What! Arrived?" the lepero repeated with a frightened air. "We are still a long way off."
"No; at the spot where we now are, whatever may happen, you have nothing to fear. Remain in the canoe, fasten it to one of the stumps that surround you, and wait for me."
"What! Are you going away?"
"Yes; I shall leave you for an hour or two. Keep a good watch. If you notice anything new you will imitate the cry of the waterhen twice: you understand?"
"Perfectly; but if a serious danger threatened us what ought I to do?"
The Tigrero reflected for an instant.
"What danger can threaten you here?" he said.
"I do not know; but the Indians are fiends incarnate: with them you must be prepared for anything."
"You are right. Well, in case of any serious danger threatening us—but only in that case, you understand—after giving your signal, you will put across to that point. Mangroves grow there, under the shelter of which you will be perfectly safe, and I will join you immediately."
"Very good: but how shall I know where to find you?"
"I will imitate twice the bark of the prairie dog. Now, be prudent."
"You may be sure of that."
The Tigrero took off all the articles of clothing that might embarrass him, such as his zarapé and botas vaqueras, only keeping on his trousers and vest, put his knife in his belt, made up his pistols, rifle, and cartouche box in a packet, and imitated the song of the maukawis. Presently a similar sound rose from the bank. The Tigrero then held his weapons over his head, and glided gently into the water. The lepero soon perceived him swimming silently and vigorously in the direction of the hacienda; but the Tigrero was gradually lost in the distance.
So soon as he was alone Cucharés began to inspect his weapons carefully, changing the caps so as to be ready for anything, and run no risk of being taken unawares; then, reassured by the calmness that prevailed around, he lay down in the bottom of the canoe in spite of the Tigrero's recommendations, and got ready for a nap.
The noise of the combat had gradually died away—neither shouts nor shots could be heard. The Indians, repulsed by the colonists, had given up their attack. The flames of the fire became less and less bright. The desert appeared to have fallen back into its ordinary silence and solitude.
The lepero, lying on his back at the bottom of the canoe, gazed at the brilliant stars, glittering in the azure sky. Gently cradled by the rippling, his eyes closed. At length he reached that point which is neither sleeping nor waking, and would probably soon have fallen asleep. At the moment, however, when he was going to yield to his feelings, he cast a parting sleepy glance over the river. He shuddered, repressed with difficulty a cry of terror, and started up so violently that he almost upset the canoe.
Cucharés had had a fearful vision: he rubbed his eyes vigorously to assure himself that he was really awake, and looked again. What he had taken for a vision was only too real; he had seen correctly.
We have said that the river carried with it a large number of stumps and dead trees still laden with their branches. During the last hour an enormous quantity of these trees had collected round the canoe, the lepero being quite unable to account for the fact, the more so because these trees, which by the natural laws should have followed the current and descended with it, cut it in every direction, and, instead of keeping to the centre of the river, drew constantly nearer to the bank on which stood the hacienda.
More extraordinary still, the progress of this floating wood was so carefully regulated that all converged on one point—the extremity of the isthmus at the back of the hacienda. Another alarming fact was, that Cucharés saw eyes flashing and frightful faces peering out from amidst this raft of interlaced branches, stumps and trees.
There was no room for doubt: each tree carried at least one Apache. The Indians, having failed in their attempt on one side, hoped to surprise the colony from the river, and were swimming up concealed by the trees, in the midst of which they had collected. The lepero's position was perplexing. Up to this moment the Indians, busied with their plans, had paid no attention to the canoe; or, if they had noticed it, thought that it belonged to one of their party; but the error might be detected at any moment, and the lepero knew that, in such a case, he would be hopelessly lost.
Already, more than once, hands had been laid for a few seconds on the sides of a frail boat; but, by some providential chance, the owners of those hands had not thought of looking into the interior of the canoe.
All these reflections, and many others, Cucharés indulged in while lying apparently most comfortably at the bottom of the canoe, gently balanced by the ripple, and watching the brilliant stars defile above his head. With his features distorted by terror, his face blanched, and holding a pistol butt convulsively clutched in either hand, while mentally recommending himself to his patron saint, he awaited the catastrophe which every passing minute rendered more imminent.
He had not long to wait.
Among the indomitable nations that wander about the deserts contained in the delta formed by the Rio Gila, the Rio del Norte, and the Colorado, two claim sovereignty over the rest. They are the Apaches and Comanches. Irreconcilable enemies, incessantly at war with each other, these two nations were now allied by a common hatred of the white men, and all that belongs to that abhorred race.
Excellent hunters, intrepid horsemen, cruel and pitiless warriors, the Apaches and Comanches are terrible neighbours for the inhabitants of New Mexico. Every year, at the same period, these ferocious warriors rush by thousands from their deserts, cross the rivers by fording or swimming, and invade the Mexican frontiers at several points, burning and plundering all they come across, carrying off women and children into slavery, and spreading desolation and terror for more than twenty leagues into a civilised territory.
At the period of the Spanish rule it was not so. Numerous missions, presidios, posts established at regular distances, and bodies of troops scattered along the entire frontier, repulsed the attacks of the Indians, drove them back and kept them within the limits of their hunting grounds; but since the proclamation of their independence the Mexicans have had so much to do in cutting each other's throats, and trampling morality underfoot by their incessant revolutions, that the posts have been called in, the missions plundered, the presidios abandoned, and the frontiers left to guard themselves. The result has been that the Indians gradually drew nearer, and finding no serious resistance before them—for the very simple reason that the Mexican Government forbids, under heavy penalties, any firearms being given to the civilised Indians, who alone could fight successfully against the invaders—the savages have nearly reconquered in a few years what Spain, in her omnipotence, took ages in wresting from them. The result of this is that the most fertile country in the world remains unfilled; not a step can be taken in this hapless country without stumbling on still smoking ruins; and the boldness of the savages has so increased, that they now do not even take the trouble to hide their expeditions, which they make annually at the same period, in the same month nearly on the same day, and that the month is called by them in derision the "Mexican Moon;" that is to say, the moon during which the Mexicans are plundered.
All the facts we narrate here would be the height of buffoonery were they not also the height of atrocity.
The Black Bear had founded the great confederation to which he had previously alluded, for the purpose of restoring himself in the credit of his fellow countrymen, whom several unsuccessful expeditions had turned against him. Like all Indian chiefs of any standing, he was ambitious. He had already succeeded in destroying several smaller tribes, and incorporating them with his nation: he now aspired to nothing less than humbling the Comanches, and compelling them to recognise his authority. It was a difficult, if not impossible enterprise; for the Comanche nation is justly recognised as the most warlike and dangerous in the desert. This nation, which proudly calls itself the Queen of the Prairies, can hardly endure the presence of the Apaches on the ground they consider belonging to themselves, and forming their hunting territory. The Comanches have an immense advantage over the other prairie Indians—an advantage which causes their strength, and makes them so terrible to the nations they combat. Owing to the precaution they have taken of never drinking spirits, they have escaped the general degradation and most of the diseases which decimate the other Indians, and have remained vigorous and intelligent.
The Jester, like the Black Bear, had no great faith in the duration of the alliance formed between the two nations: the hatred he bore the Apaches was, indeed, too profound for him to desire it; but the foundation of the Guetzalli colony by the French, by permanently establishing the white men, on a territory they regarded as belonging to themselves, was a too serious menace for the Comanches and other Indios Bravos, and they attempted every possible scheme to get rid of these troublesome neighbours. Hence they had temporarily hung up their old rancour and private enmities on behalf of the general welfare, but for that only. It was tacitly agreed between them that, so soon as the strangers were expelled, each nation would be free to act as it pleased.
We have seen in what way the Jester began hostilities. The Black Bear had a scheme which he had been ripening for a long time, though not possessing the means to put it in execution; but knowing where to obtain the information he needed, he went to Guaymas. The Tigrero, by proposing to him to enter the colony as a guide, had unsuspectingly supplied him with the pretext he sought. Thus, during the few hours he spent at the hacienda, he had not lost his time, and with that cunning peculiar to the Indians, discovered all the weak points of the place.
There was another reason to inflame his desire to seize the hacienda. Like all the redskins, his dream was to have a white woman in his lodge. Fatality, by bringing him across Doña Anita, had suddenly re-enkindled the secret hope he entertained, and made him suppose he would at length possess the woman he sought so long without being able to find her. It must not be thought that the Black Bear loved the Spanish maiden: no, he wanted a white squaw, that was all. He was humiliated by the knowledge that the other chiefs of his nation had slaves of that colour, while he alone had none. Had Doña Anita been ugly, he would have tried to carry her off all the same. She was lovely—all the better; and we may add here that the Apache chief did not consider her beautiful. According to his Indian notions she was passable, that was all; the only thing he valued in her was her colour.
The Black Bear, standing with his principal warriors on the point of the island, remained silent, with his arms crossed on his chest, his eyes fixed on vacancy, till the moment when the first gleams of the fire kindled by the Jester tinged the horizon with a blood-red hue.
"My brother, the Jester, is an experienced chief," he said, "and a faithful ally. He has well fulfilled the mission intrusted to him. He is now smoking the paleface dogs. What the Comanches have begun the Apaches will finish."
"The Black Bear is the first warrior of his nation," the Little Panther replied. "Who would dare to contend with him?"
The Indian Sachem smiled at this flattery.
"If the Comanches are antelopes, the Apaches are otters; they can, if they please, swim in the water, or march on land. The palefaces have lived. The Great Spirit is in me; it is He who dictates to me the words my tongue utters."
The warriors bowed. The Black Bear continued, after a moment's silence:—
"What do the Apache warriors care for the fire tubes of the palefaces? Have they not long, barbed arrows and intrepid hearts? My brothers will follow me; we will take the scalps of these pale dogs, and fasten them to our horses' manes, and their wives shall be our slaves."
Shouts of joy and enthusiasm greeted these words.
"The river is covered with numerous trunks of trees: my sons are not squaws to fatigue themselves uselessly. They will place themselves on these dead trees, and drift with the current down to the great lodge of the palefaces. Let my brothers prepare. The Black Bear will set out at the sixth hour, when the blue jay has sung twice, and the walkon has uttered its shrill cry. I have spoken. Two hundred warriors will follow the Black Bear."
The chiefs bowed respectfully before the sachem, and left him alone. He wrapped himself up in his buffalo robe, sat down by the fire, lit his calumet by means of a medicine staff adorned with bells and feathers, and remained silent, with his eyes fixed on the gradually extending prairie fire.
The island in which the Apache chief had formed his camp was at no great distance from the French colony. The project of floating down had no very great danger for these men, accustomed to every sort of bodily exercise, and who swam like fish: it possessed the great advantage of completely concealing the approach of the warriors hidden by the water and the branches, and who, at the proper moment, would rush on the colony like a swarm of famished vultures.
The Black Bear was so convinced of the success of this stratagem, which only an Indian brain could have conceived, that he only took with him two hundred chosen men, thinking it unnecessary to lead more against enemies taken by surprise, and who, compelled to defend themselves against the Comanches led by the Jester, would be attacked in the rear and massacred before they had time to look around them.
Night sets in rapidly and suddenly in countries where the twilight does not last longer than a lightning flash. Soon all became darkness, save that, in the distance, a wide strip of coppery red announced the progress of the flames, behind which the Comanches galloped like a pack of hideous wolves over the still glowing earth, trampling under their horses' hoofs the charred wood which was still smouldering.
When the Black Bear considered the moment had arrived he put out his calumet, scattered the fire, and gave a signal perfectly well understood by the Little Panther, who was watching to execute the orders the chief might be pleased to give. Almost immediately the two hundred warriors selected for the expedition made their appearance. They were all picked men, armed with clubs and lances, while their shields hung on their backs. After a moment's silence, employed by the sachem in a species of inspection, he said in a deep voice,—
"We are about to set out; the palefaces we are destined to fight are not Yoris: they are said to be very brave, but the Apaches are the bravest warriors in the world; no one can contend against them. My sons may be killed, but they will conquer."
"The warriors will suffer themselves to be killed," the Indians replied with one voice.
"Wah!" the Black Bear continued, "my sons have spoken well; the Black Bear has confidence in them. The Wacondah will not abandon them; he loves the red men. And now, my sons, we will collect the dead trees floating on the river, and float down the current with them. The cry of the condor will be their signal to rush on the palefaces."
The Indians immediately began executing their chiefs orders. All strove to reach the trunks of trees or stumps. In a few moments a considerable quantity was collected near the point of the island. The Black Bear turned a palling glance around, gave the signal for departure, and was the first to enter the water and clamber on a tree. All the rest followed him immediately without the slightest hesitation.
The Apaches behaved so cleverly in bringing the tree trunks to the island, and had chosen their position so well, that when they set the trees in motion again they almost immediately struck the current, and began to follow the river gently, drifting imperceptibly in the direction of the colony where they wished to land.
Still this navigation, so essentially eccentric, offered grave inconveniences and even serious dangers to those who undertook it. The Indians, left without paddles on the trees, were obliged to follow the stream, only succeeding in holding on by extraordinary efforts. Like all wood floating at the mercy of the waves, the trees continually revolved, compelling those holding on to them to employ all their strength and skill, lest they might be submerged at every moment. There was another difficulty, too: it was absolutely necessary to keep in the water, so as to give the trees the proper direction and make them reach the colony, instead of following the current in the middle of the stream. A further inconvenience, not the least grave of all, was that the trees on which the Apaches were mounted met others as they floated along, against which they struck, or their branches became so interlaced that it was impossible to part them, and they had to be taken on as well; so that, at the end of half an hour, an immense raft was formed, which appeared to occupy the entire width of the river.
The Indians are obstinate: when they have undertaken an expedition they never give it up till it is irrevocably proved to them that success is impossible. This happened on the present occasion; several men were drowned, others wounded so severely that they were compelled to regain the bank against their will. The others, however, held on; and, encouraged by their chief, who did not cease addressing them, they continued to descend the river.
Long before the island from which they set out had disappeared behind them in the windings formed by the irregular course of the river; the point on which the buildings of the colony stood appeared but a short way ahead, when the Black Bear, who was at the head of the party, and whose piercing eye incessantly surveyed the scene around, noticed a canoe a few yards ahead attached to a dead stump, gracefully dancing on the water.
This canoe at once appeared suspicious to the cautious Indian. It did not seem natural to him that, at such an advanced hour of the night, any boat should be thus tied up in the river: but the Black Bear was a man of prompt decision, whom nothing embarrassed, and who rapidly formed his plans. After carefully examining this, mysterious canoe, still stationary before him, he stooped over to the Little Panther, who hung on to the same tree in readiness to execute his orders, and, placing his knife between his teeth, the chief unloosed his hold and dived.
He rose again near the canoe, seized it boldly, pulled it over, and leaped in right on Cucharés' chest and seized him by the throat. This movement was executed so rapidly that the lepero could not employ his weapons, and found himself completely at the mercy of his enemy before he understood what had occurred.
"Wah!" the Indian exclaimed with surprise on recognising him. "What is my brother doing here?"
The lepero had also recognised the chief, and, without knowing why, this restored him a slight degree of courage.
"You see," he answered, "I am sleeping."
"Wah! My brother was afraid of the fire, and for that reason took to the river."
"Quite right, chief; you have hit it the first time. I was afraid of the fire."
"Good!" the Apache continued, with a mocking smile peculiar to himself. "My brother is not alone. Where is the Great Buffalo?"
"Eh? I do not know the Great Buffalo, chief. I don't even know whom you are talking about."
"All the palefaces have a forked tongue. Why does not my brother speak the truth?"
"I am quite willing to do so, but I do not understand you."
"The Black Bear is a great Apache warrior; he can speak the language of his nation, but he knows badly that of the Yoris."
"I did not mean that. You express yourself excellently in Castilian, but you are speaking of a person I do not know."
"Wah! Is that possible?" the Indian said, with feigned amazement. "Does not my brother know the warrior with whom he was two days ago?"
"O! Now I understand; you are talking of Don Martial. Yes, certainly I know him."
"Good!" the chief replied; "I knew that I was not mistaken. Why is my brother not with him at this moment?"
"Probably because I am here," the lepero said with a grin.
"That is true; but as I am in a hurry, and my brother does not wish to answer me, I am going to kill him."
Saying this in a tone which admitted of no tergiversation, the Black Bear raised his knife. The lepero saw well enough that, if he did not obey the Indian, he was lost, and his hesitation ceased as if by enchantment.
"What do you want of me?" he said.
"The truth."
"Question me."
"My brother will answer?"
"Yes."
"Good! Where is the Great Buffalo?"
"There," he said, pointing in the direction of the hacienda.
"How long?"
"For more than an hour."
"For what reason has he gone there?"
"You can guess."
"Yes. Are they together?"
"They ought to be so, as she called him to her."
"Wah! And when will he return?"
"I do not know."
"He did not tell my brother?
"No."
"Will he come back alone?"
"I do not know."
The Indian fixed a glance on him, as if trying to read his very heart. The lepero was calm: he had honestly told all he knew.
"Good!" the chief continued the next moment. "Did not the Great Buffalo agree on a signal with his friend, in order to rejoin when he pleased?"
"He did."
"What is, that signal?"
At this question a singular idea crossed Cucharés' brain. The leperos belong to a strange race, which only bears a likeness to the Neapolitan lazzaroni. At once prodigal and avaricious, greedy and disinterested, extremely rash, and frightful cowards, they are the strangest medley of all that is good and all that is bad. In them everything is blunted and imperfect. They only act on the impulse of the moment, without reflection, or passion. Eternal mockers, they believe in nothing and yet believe in everything. To sum them up in a word, their life is a constant antithesis; and for a jest which may cost their life they would sacrifice their most devoted friend, just as they will save him.
Cucharés was a perfect personification of this eccentric race. Though the Apache chief's knife was scarce two inches from his breast, and he knew that his ferocious enemy would show him no mercy, he suddenly resolved to play him a trick, no matter the cost. We will not add that his friendship for Don Martial unconsciously pleaded on his behalf, for we repeat that the lepero feels no friendship for any one, not even himself, and that his heart only exists in the shape of bowels.
"The chief wishes to know the signal?" he said.
"Yes," the Apache replied,
Cucharés, with the utmost coolness, imitated the cry of the waterhen.
"Silence!" the Black Bear exclaimed; "it is not that."
"Pardon," the lepero replied with a grin; "perhaps I gave it badly," and he repeated it.
The Indian, roused by his enemy's impudence, rushed upon him, resolved to finish him with his knife; but, blinded by his fury, he calculated badly, and gave too violent an oscillation to the canoe. The light bark, whose equilibrium was disturbed, turned over, and the two men rolled into the river. Once in the water, the lepero, who swam like an otter, set off in the direction of the hacienda as fast as he could speed. But if he swam well, the Black Bear swam at least equally well. The first movement of surprise overcome, the chief almost immediately discovered his enemy's trail.
Then began the two men a contest of skill and strength. Perhaps it would have ended to the advantage of the white man, who had a considerable start, had not several warriors, witnesses of what had occurred, swum off too, and cut off the fugitive's retreat. Cucharés saw that flight was impossible; hence, not attempting to continue a hopeless struggle, he proceeded towards a tree, to which he clung, and awaited with magnificent coolness whatever might happen.
The Black Bear soon came up with him. The chief displayed no ill temper at the trick the lepero had played him.
"Wah!" he merely said, "my brother is a warrior: he has the craft of the opossum."
"Of what use is it to me," Cucharés answered carelessly, "if I cannot succeed in saving my scalp?"
"Perhaps," the Indian said. "Let my brother tell me where the Great Buffalo is."
"I have already told you, chief."
"Yes, my brother told me that his friend was in the great lodge of the palefaces, but he did not say at what place."
"Hum! And if I tell you shall I be free?"
"Yes, if my brother has not a forked tongue: if he speaks the truth, so soon as we land on the bank, he will be free to go where he pleases."
"A poor favour!" the lepero muttered, shaking his head.