CHAPTER III.
A CONVERSATION.
On leaving the cabin, Don Pablo recrossed the river, and found his wayback to the thicket where he had tied his horse up. The poor animal,terrified by the lightning and the hoarse rolling of the thunder,uttered a snort of pleasure at seeing its master again. Without loss ofa moment, the young man leaped into the saddle and started at a gallop.
The rain fell in torrents, the wind whistled violently, the young manfeared at each moment losing his way, and groped through the immensesolitude which stretched out before him, and which the darknessprevented him from sounding. Like all well-gifted men habituated to anadventurous life, Don Pablo de Zarate was well fitted for struggling.His will grew in proportion to the difficulties that rose before him,and instead of discouraging him, obstacles only confirmed him in hisresolution. So soon as he had chosen an object, he reached it in spiteof all.
His love for Ellen, born, as it were, through a thunderclap--as, infact, most true loves spring into life, where the unexpected alwaysplays the chief part--this love, we say, for which he was in no wayprepared, and which surprised him at the moment which he least dreamedof it, had assumed, without his will, gigantic proportions, which allthe reasons which should have rendered it impossible, only augmented.
Although he bore the deepest hatred for Red Cedar, and, had theopportunity presented itself, would have killed him without hesitationlike a dog, his love for Ellen had become a worship, an adoration aboutwhich he no longer reasoned, but which he endured with that intoxicationand that delight felt in forbidden things. This girl, who had remainedso pure and chaste amid this family of bandits, possessed anirresistible attraction for him. He had said in his conversation withher he was intimately convinced that she could not be Red Cedar'sdaughter. It would have been impossible for him to give his reasons; butwith that tenacity of purpose which only some few men possess henecessarily sought the proofs of this conviction which nothingsupported, and, even more, he sought these proofs with the certainty offinding them.
For a month past, he had discovered, by an inexplicable chance, RedCedar's retreat, which Valentine, the skilful trail-hunter, had beenunable to detect. Don Pablo had immediately profited by his goodfortune to see again the girl he had believed lost for ever. Thisunexpected success appeared to him a good omen; and every morning,without saying anything to his friends, he mounted his horse upon thefirst excuse that offered, and rode thirty miles to speak with her heloved for a few moments.
Every consideration was silent in presence of his love: he allowed hisfriends to exhaust themselves in vain researches, preciously keeping hissecret in order to be happy, at least, for a few days; for he perfectlyforesaw that the moment must arrive when Red Cedar would be discovered.But, in the meanwhile, he enjoyed the present. With all those who lovein this way, the future is nothing, the present is all in all.
Don Pablo galloped on by the glare of the flashes, feeling neither therain that inundated him, nor the wind that howled round his head.Absorbed in his love, he thought of the conversation he had held withEllen, and pleased himself with recalling all the words that had beenexchanged during the hour, which slipped away almost too rapidly.
All at once, his horse, to which he paid no attention, neighed, and DonPablo raised his head intuitively. Ten paces ahead of him, a horsemanwas standing motionless across his path.
"Ah, ah!" said Don Pablo, as he drew himself up on the saddle, andcocked his pistols; "You are very late on the road, comrade. Let mepass, if you please."
"I am no later than yourself, Don Pablo," was the immediate response,"since I meet you."
"Halloh!" the young man shouted, as he uncocked his pistols, andreturned them to his holsters; "What the deuce are you doing here, DonValentine?"
"As you see, I am waiting."
"Whom can you be waiting for at this advanced hour?"
"For yourself, Don Pablo."
"For me!" the Mexican said in surprise; "That is strange."
"Not so much as you suppose. I desire to have a conversation with you,which no one must overhear; and as that was impossible in camp, I cameto wait for you as you passed: that is simple enough, I fancy."
"It is; but what is less so, is the hour and spot you have selected, myfriend."
"Why so?"
"Hang it, a terrible storm is let loose over our heads; we have no placehere to shelter us; and I repeat, it is nearer morning than night."
"That is true; but time pressed, and I could not select the hour to myfancy."
"You alarm me, my friend; has anything new occurred?"
"Nothing that I know of, up to the present; but ere long we shall seesomething, you may feel assured."
The young man stifled a sigh, but made no reply. While exchanging thesehurried sentences, the Trail-hunter and the Mexican had joined, and nowrode side by side. Valentine continued--
"Follow me for a few moments. I will lead you to a spot where we canconverse at ease, without fear of being disturbed."
"What you have to say to me must be very important?"
"You shall soon judge of that."
"And are you going to lead me far?"
"Only a few paces; to a grotto which I noticed in the flashes."
"Let us go then."
The two men spurred their horses, and galloped silently side by side;they went on thus for hardly a quarter of an hour in the direction of athick chaparral which skirted the river.
"We have arrived," said Valentine, as he checked his horse anddismounted. "You had better let me go first, for it may happen that thecave we are about to enter may have an occupier not at all disposed tomove for us, and it is as well to act prudently."
"What do you mean? To what occupier do you allude?"
"Hang it, I do not know," the Frenchman replied carelessly; "in anycase, it is as well to be on one's guard."
While saying this, Valentine produced from under his zarape twocandlewood torches, which he lighted; he gave one to Don Pablo, and thetwo men, after hobbling their horses, opened the bushes and advancedboldly toward the cave. After walking a few steps, they suddenly foundthemselves at the entrance of one of those magnificent natural grottosformed by the volcanic convulsions so frequent in these parts.
"Attention!" Valentine muttered in a low voice to his comrade.
The sudden appearance of the two men startled a cloud of night birds andbats, which flew away heavily in all directions, uttering shrill cries.Valentine went on, not troubling himself about these funereal guests,whose sports he so unexpectedly noticed. All at once, a hoarse andprolonged growl came from a distant corner of the cave.
The two men stopped as if rooted to the ground. They found themselvesface to face with a magnificent black bear, whose usual residence thiscavern doubtless was, and which, standing on its hind legs with openmouth, showed the troublesome persons who came to trouble it soinopportunely in its lair, a tongue red as blood, and glistening clawsof a remarkable length. It balanced itself clumsily, according to thefashion of its congeners, and its round and dazzled eyes were fixed onthe adventurers in a manner that would cause reflection. Fortunately,they were not the men to let themselves be intimidated for long.
"Hum!" said Valentine, surveying the animal, "I was sure of it; there isa young fellow who seems inclined to sup with us."
"My rifle, on the contrary, will make us sup with him," Don Pablo saidwith a laugh.
"For Heaven's sake do not fire," the hunter said quickly, as he checkedthe young man who had already shouldered his rifle; "a shot fired atthis spot will produce a fearful row: we do not know what sort of peoplemay be prowling around us; so we must not compromise ourselves."
"That is true," Don Pablo remarked; "but what is to be done?"
"That is my business," Valentine replied; "take my torch, and holdyourself in readiness to help me."
Then, resting his rifle against the side of the cave, he went out, whilethe Mexican remained alone, facing the bear, which, dazzled andperplexed by the light, did
not venture to stir. In a few minutesValentine returned; he had been to fetch his lasso, fastened to thesaddle bow.
"Now, stick your torches in the ground, to be ready for any accident."
Don Pablo obeyed; the hunter carefully prepared the lasso and whirled itround his head, while whistling in a peculiar way.
At this unexpected appeal the bear moved heavily two or three pacesforward, but that was its ruin. The lasso started from the hunter'shands, the slipknot fell on the animal's shoulders, and the two menslipped back, tugging at it with all their strength. The poor quadruped,thus strangled and stretching out a tongue a foot long, tottered andfell, striving in vain to remove with its huge paws the unlucky collarthat compressed its throat. But the hunters were not conquered by theirenemy's tremendous efforts; they redoubled their strength, and did notloose the lasso till the bear had given its last sigh.
"Now," said Valentine, after he had assured himself that Bruin wasreally dead, "bring the horses in here, Don Pablo, while I cut off ourenemy's paws, to roast them in the ashes while we are talking."
When the young man re-entered the grotto, leading the horses, he foundValentine, who had lighted a large fire, busied in flaying the bear,whose paws were gently roasting in the embers, as he had said. Don Pablogave the horses their food, and then sat down before the fire nearValentine.
"Well," said the latter with a smile, "do you fancy this a comfortableplace for a gossip?"
"Yes, it is," the young man carelessly replied, as he rolled betweenhis; fingers a husk cigarette with the dexterity apparently peculiar tothe Spanish race; "we are all right here: I am ready for yourexplanation, my friend."
"I will give it you," the hunter said, who had finished skinning thebear, and quietly returned his knife to his boot, after carefully wipingthe blade; "how long have you known Red Cedar's hiding place?"
At this point-blank question, which he was far from expecting, the youngman started; a feverish flush covered his face, and he did not know whatto answer.
"Why--?" he stammered.
"About a month, I think?" Valentine continued, not appearing to noticehis friend's confusion.
"Yes, about," the other replied, not knowing what he said.
"And for a month," Valentine continued, imperturbably, "you have leftyour father's side each night to go and make love to the daughter of theman who murdered your sister?"
"My friend," Don Pablo said, painfully.
"Would you assert that it is not true?" the hunter went on hastily, ashe bent on him a glance which made him look down: "explain yourself,Pablo--I am waiting for your justification. I am curious to know how youwill manage to prove to me that you have acted rightly."
The young man, while his friend was speaking, had time to regain, at anyrate, a portion, if not all, of his coolness and presence of mind.
"You are severe," he said; "before accusing me, it would be, perhaps,worthwhile to listen to the reasons I have to offer you."
"Stay, my friend." Valentine said, quickly, "let us not turn from thequestion, but be frank; do not take the trouble to describe your love tome, for I know it as well as you do--I saw it born and grow; still,permit me to tell you certainly I thought that after the assassinationof Dona Clara, this love, which had hitherto resisted everything, woulddie out. It is impossible to love those we despise. Red Cedar's daughtercan only appear to you through a blood-stained cloud."
"Don Valentine," the young man exclaimed, in grief, "would you renderthat angel responsible for the crimes of a villain?"
"I will not discuss with you the famous theory which lays down thatfaults and crimes are personal; faults may be so, but in desert life thewhole family must be responsible for the crimes of its chief; were itnot so, no security would be possible for honest people."
"Oh, how can you speak thus!"
"Very good--let us change the ground, as that is disagreeable to you.You possess the noblest and most honourable nature of any man I know, DonPablo. I presume you never had a thought of making Ellen your mistress?"
"No!" the young man savagely protested.
"Would you make her your wife, then?" Valentine said, with a cuttingaccent, as he looked him fixedly in the face.
Don Pablo bowed his head in despair.
"I am accursed!" he exclaimed.
"No," Valentine said, as he seized him sharply by the arm, "you are mad.Like all young men, passion sways and overpowers you--you listen to thatalone; you despise the voice of reason, and hence commit faults whichmay speedily become, in spite of yourself, crimes."
"Do not speak thus, my friend."
"You have only reached faults as yet," Valentine said, imperturbably;"but take care."
"Oh, it is you who are mad, my friend, to say such things to me. Believeme, however great my love for Ellen may be, I shall never forget theduties imposed on me by the strange position in which fate has placedme."
"And yet for a month you have known the hiding place of the mostimplacable enemy of your family, and have kept it a profound secret, inorder to satisfy the claims of a passion which can only have adisgraceful result for you! You see us vainly employing all the means inour power to discover the traces of our enemy, and you betray us coldly,deliberately, for the sake of a few love phrases which you find meansto exchange daily with a girl, while making us believe that, likeourselves, you are engaged in fruitless researches. What name will yougive to your conduct save that of a traitor?"
"Valentine, you insult me, the friendship you have for me does notauthorise you to act thus; take care, for patience has its limits."
The hunter interrupted him by a coarse laugh.
"You see it, boy," he said sternly, "already you threaten me."
The young man rolled on the ground in despair.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, "I have suffered enough."
Valentine looked at him for a moment with tender pity, then bent overhim, and touching his shoulder:
"Listen to me, Don Pablo," he said in a gentle voice.