Read Les chasseurs d'abeilles. English Page 7


  CHAPTER VII.

  THE SKIRMISH.

  Nature has rights she always enforces: whatever the anxiety of theMexicans, the fatigues they had endured during the whole of thatlong day made them feel the imperious necessity of recruiting theirstrength; so, after a few gloomy reflections on their critical andalmost desperate situation, Don Pedro ordered the _peones_ to light afire and prepare the evening meal.

  Men whose physical faculties are more frequently called into exertionthan their minds, never forget to eat and sleep, whatever situationchance may place them in; appetite and sleep never fail them. Thereason is simple: constantly exposed to Titanic struggles with man orthe elements, their natural forces must be maintained in an equal ratiowith the efforts they have to make to surmount the obstacles whichoppose, or the perils which threaten them.

  The meal was sad and silent; the Mexicans were too deeply impressed bythe approach of night, the time habitually chosen by the redskins fortheir attacks, to care for exchanging many words.

  The hunter's absence was protracted; already, for more than two hours,the sun had disappeared behind the high mountaintops; thick darknessenveloped the earth as with a shroud; not a star twinkled in the sky;and great black clouds coursed through space, completely veiling theorb of the moon.

  The _hacendero_ would not resign to any other the duty of watchingover the common safety. Lying face downwards on the platform, sothat he might not be visible if an unseen enemy were lying in wait,he anxiously scanned the dark line of the water. At his side lay the_capataz_, who, equally with himself, had no wish to attempt a reposewhich he knew to be impossible.

  The high cliffs of the banks were bare and deserted; only at one place,where the shore was accessible, they saw black shapes moving for a fewseconds, with hoarse and angry growls, and then disappearing. Theseblack forms were evidently wild animals, slaking their thirst in theriver before repairing to their layers.

  "Come!" suddenly exclaimed a deep and determined voice in the ear ofthe Mexican.

  Don Pedro turned round, repressing a cry of astonishment; the hunterstood by him, leaning on his rifle.

  The three men entered the cavern. The remains of the fire which hadbeen lighted for the evening meal diffused light enough to distinguishobjects.

  "You are very late," said the _hacendero_.

  "I have traversed six leagues since I left you," replied the hunter;"but that is no matter. A man, whose name you need not know at present,has resolved to prevent your reaching the _hacienda._ A party ofApaches is on our trail. All my precautions have not availed to concealour tracks from these cunning demons, whose piercing eyes would detectin the air the trail of the eagle's flight. They are encamped close by;they are preparing rafts and canoes to attack you."

  "Are there many of them?" inquired the _hacendero_.

  "No; not above a score at most, of whom only six or seven are armedwith rifles; the rest have but bows and lances. Knowing you to bewithout arms, or at least believing so, they count upon carrying youoff without striking a blow."

  "Who is the man who is so inveterate against us?"

  "What is that to you? He is a strange and mysterious being, whose lifeis one continual round of dark conspiracies; his mind is an abyss whichno one has dared to sound, the depths of which even he himself, whofears nothing in the world, would dread to fathom. But enough of him.You are to be attacked in two hours; three chances of escape from thefate prepared for you are open to you."

  "And what are these chances?" said the _hacendero_.

  "The first is, to remain here, await the attack, and make a vigorousresistance. The Apaches, alarmed at finding armed and on their guardthe men whom they hoped to surprise weaponless and defenceless, maylose courage, and retreat."

  Dona Hermosa, aroused by the sound of voices, had approached, and waslistening attentively.

  The _hacendero_ shook his head. "The chance seems hazardous," he said;"for if our enemies succeeded in setting foot on the rock, they wouldoverpower us by dint of numbers, and make themselves masters of ourpersons."

  "That would most probably be the case," said the hunter, coolly.

  "Let us hear the second chance; the one already proposed seemsimpracticable."

  "This rock communicates, by a subterraneous passage under the bed ofthe river, with another rock, a good distance from the place wherewe now are. I will lead you to that rock; when we get there, we willembark in the canoe; having reached the opposite bank of the river, wewill mount, and trust our safety to the speed of our horses."

  "I should prefer this chance, if our horses were not so worn out that anight flight across the wilderness would be almost an impossibility."

  "The redskins know as well as I do all the outlets from the rock onwhich we have taken refuge. Most likely they have already guarded thepassage by which we might hope to escape."

  "Alas!" said the _hacendero_, sorrowfully, "With all your goodintention to help us, the chances you propose are against us."

  "I know it; unfortunately, it does not depend upon me to make themotherwise."

  "And lastly," resumed Don Pedro, with much resignation, "what is thethird chance?"

  "I am afraid you will find the last more desperate than the other two.It is a rash and dangerous undertaking, which might perhaps offer ahope of success if we had not with us a woman, whom we must not exposeto one peril in order to save her from another."

  "Then it is useless to name it," said the _hacendero_, with a mournfullook at his daughter.

  "You are wrong, father," said Dona Hermosa, with much animation; "letus hear, at least, what this chance is. Perhaps it is the only goodone. Explain, senor," continued she, addressing the hunter. "After allyou have done for us, we should be ungrateful not to listen to yourcounsel. I am convinced that what you hesitate to propose, for my sake,is the only means of safety open to us."

  "That may be," answered the hunter; "but I repeat, senorita, that themeans are impracticable--you being with us."

  The girl drew herself up, a gay smile played about her rosy lips, and,commencing her speech in a voice slightly ironical, she said:

  "You surely think me very weak and pusillanimous, senor, since you darenot speak out. I am but a woman, it is true, and feeble, as we all are;but I think I have proved to you, in the few hours during which we havetravelled together, that my heart is above vulgar fears; and that ifmy physical strength is not equal to my moral energy, my will triumphsover my woman's weakness, and makes me superior to circumstances, letthem be what they will."

  Stoneheart listened attentively to the beautiful girl. The mask ofimpassiveness which covered his features melted away at the sound ofthat melodious voice, and a deep blush suffused his face.

  "Pardon me, senorita," he said in a voice which the secret feelingsagitating him caused to waver; "I was wrong; I will speak out."

  "Good!" said she, with a pleasant smile; "I knew what your answer wouldbe."

  "The Apaches," began the hunter, "are encamped, as I have told you, ata short distance from the bank of the river. Certain that they willnot be molested, they keep no watch; they sleep, drink the firewater,and await the time for attacking you. We are six men, well armed anddetermined; we know that our safety depends on the success of ourexpedition. Let us land on the island, surprise the redskins, and fallon them boldly. Perhaps we may succeed in opening ourselves a passage,and in that case we shall be saved, for they will not pursue us afterthey have been defeated. This is my proposal."

  There was a long silence; it was Dona Hermosa who broke it.

  "You were wrong in hesitating to acquaint us with this project," saidshe, fervently; "it is the only one practicable. It is better to meetdanger halfway than to tremble in cowardly expectation of its advent.Let us go! Let us go! We have not a minute to lose."

  "Daughter," exclaimed Don Pedro, "you are mad! Remember, we are goingto expose ourselves to almost certain death."

  "Be it so, my father," she replied, with feverish energy; "our fate isin the hands of God
, whose protection has been so evident thus far,that I believe He will not abandon us now."

  "The senorita is right," cried the _capataz_; "let us smoke thesedemons out of their lair. This hunter, to whom I make my most humbleapologies for having suspected his loyalty for an instant, will supplyus with the means of arriving, without being discovered, at the camp ofthe Apaches."

  "I can but do my best," said the hunter modestly.

  "Let us go, then, since needs must," said the _hacendero_, with a sigh.

  The _peones_, who had not mingled in the conversation, seized theirrifles with an air of determination which proved them resolved to dotheir duty.

  "Follow me," said the hunter, lighting a torch of _ocote_ wood, to showthe way.

  Without another word, the Mexicans plunged into the depth of thecavern, taking with them the horses whose strength had been thoroughlyrecruited by their rest of so many hours.

  They continued pushing their way through the subterranean passage.Overhead they heard the dull and ceaseless noise of the waters;thousands of night birds, dazzled by the unwonted light of the torch,awoke from their slumbers, and wheeled around, uttering mournful anddiscordant cries.

  At the end of half an hour's rapid march, the hunter halted.

  "Wait for me here," he said, and passed on rapidly, after deliveringthe torch to the _capataz_.

  Shortly after, he returned.

  "Come," said he, "all goes well."

  They followed him anew. Suddenly a fresh, cool breeze met their faces,and through the obscurity before them they saw two or three points oflight glittering. They had reached the other rock.

  "We must now redouble our caution," said the hunter; "those pointsof light you see shining through the mist are the campfires of theApaches. Their ear is fine; the least noise would betray our presence."

  The canoe was launched again; the Mexicans embarked, the _capataz_, atthe stern of the frail bark, holding the reins of the horses, whichfollowed swimming.

  Crossing occupied only a few minutes, and the canoe soon grated againstthe sandy beach.

  Nothing could be better than the place chosen by the hunter. A highrock threw over the water, to a considerable distance, so dark ashadow, that it was impossible to distinguish the travellers ten pacesoff.

  The forest, scarcely twenty yards from the shore, offered, amongst itsthickets, immediate protection to the fugitives.

  "The senorita will remain here, with one _peon_ to guard the horses,"said the hunter; "we others will attempt the surprise."

  "Not so," exclaimed the girl resolutely. "I want no one here. You wouldmiss the man you wish to leave with me. Give me a pistol, to defendmyself in case of attack, and go."

  "Nevertheless, senorita--"

  "It is my will," she peremptorily exclaimed. "Go, and God be with you!"

  The _hacendero_ convulsively pressed his daughter to his bosom.

  "Courage, my father!" she cried, while she embraced him; "Courage; allwill end well."

  She took a pistol from him, and left him, waving her adieu.

  The hunter for the last time warned his companions to be cautious; andthe men set off, following his exact footsteps in the forest.

  After marching half an hour in Indian file, they saw the fires of theApaches glimmering close by.

  At a sign from the hunter, the Mexicans threw themselves on theground, and began to crawl forward in silence, advancing with extremeprecaution inch by inch, their ears on the watch, and ready to fire atthe first suspicious movement of the enemy.

  But nothing stirred: most of the Apaches slept, plunged, as Stonehearthad asserted, in the brutal drunkenness caused by the abuse of thefirewater.

  Only three or four warriors, easily recognised as chiefs by the vultureplumes they wore in their hair, were squatting around the fire, smokingwith the mechanical gravity characteristic of the Indian.

  By the hunter's order, the Mexicans slowly arose, and each mansheltered himself behind the trunk of a tree.

  "I leave you here," whispered Stoneheart. "I am going to enter thecamp. Keep still as death; and, whatever may happen, do not fire beforeyou see me throw my cap on the ground."

  He disappeared among the underwood.

  From the spot where the travellers were hidden, they could easily seeall that took place in the camp of the redskins, and even hear what wassaid; for only a few yards separated them from the fire round which the_sachems_ crouched.

  With bodies ensconced behind the trees, their fingers on the triggersof their rifles, their eyes fixed in feverish impatience on the camp,the Mexicans awaited the signal to give fire.

  The few minutes preceding a night attack are very solemn. A man leftalone with his thoughts on such an occasion, about to risk his lifein pitiless strife, however brave he may be, feels himself seized byan instinctive dread, which sends a cold shudder thrilling throughhis frame. In that supreme hour he sees his whole life pass, as ina dream, with giddy rapidity before him, and the most abiding andpredominant sensation is the thought of that which is to happen beyondthe grave,--the dread unknown.

  Some ten minutes had elapsed since the departure of the hunter, whena slight noise was heard in the brushwood on the opposite side of thecamp to that where the Mexicans lay in ambush.

  The Apache chiefs turned their heads negligently, the bushes parted,and Stoneheart made his appearance in the circle of light caused by thewatch fires.

  The hunter slowly approached the chiefs. When close to them, hestopped, and bowed ceremoniously, but without speaking.

  The _sachems_ returned the salute with the innate good breeding of theredskins.

  "My brother is welcome," said a chief. "Will he sit by the councilfire?"

  "No," said the hunter; "my time is short."

  "My brother is prudent," resumed the chief; "he has abandoned thepalefaces, because he knows that the Tigercat has delivered them overto the barbed arrows of the Apache warriors."

  "I have not abandoned the palefaces: my brother deceives himself. Ihave sworn to defend them; I will do so."

  "That is against the orders of the Tigercat."

  "I take no orders from him. I hate treachery. I will not let theredskin braves accomplish what they meditate."

  "Oh!" grunted the _sachem;_ "My brother lifts his voice very high. Ihave heard the hawk mock at the eagle, but a blow of its mighty wingcrushed the hawk to powder."

  "A truce to sarcasm, chief. You are one of the most renowned bravesof your tribe, and cannot consent to become the agent of an infamoustreachery. The Tigercat has received these travellers in his _calli;_he has treated them with hospitality. Is not hospitality sacred in thedesert?"

  The Apache burst into a laugh.

  "The Tigercat is a great chief; he would neither eat nor drink with thepalefaces."

  "It is an unworthy artifice."

  "The palefaces are thievish dogs. The Apaches will take their scalps."

  "Wretch!" cried the hunter; "I too am a paleface. Come and take myscalp."

  And, rapid as thought, he cast on the ground the cap of fur whichcovered his head, and at the same instant precipitated himself on theIndian chief, and plunged his knife into his heart.

  Five shots were heard simultaneously with this action, and theremaining chiefs sitting round the fire rolled to the ground in theirdeath agony.

  The _sachems_ were the only Indians with rifles.

  "Forward! Forward!" shouted the hunter; and seizing his rifle by themuzzle, he hurled himself into the midst of the panic-stricken Apaches.

  The Mexicans after their first fire, rushed into the camp to reinforcethe guide.

  Then a terrible struggle commenced--six men against fifteen--a struggleall the more fierce and desperate because each man knew he could expectno mercy.

  Happily for themselves, the whites were armed with pistols. These theydischarged point-blank in the face of their opponents, attacking themafterwards with the sabre.

  The Indians had been so completely surprised--they had so littleexpect
ed to have to sustain such a vigorous onslaught from men whoseemed to have emerged from the earth, and whose numbers they were farfrom suspecting--that half of them had been killed before the restcould recover from their fright, or attempt serious resistance. When atlast they essayed an organised defence, it was too late. The Mexicanspressed them so hard, that a longer resistance was impossible.

  "Hold!" shouted the hunter.

  Whites and redskins lowered their arms at once.

  The hunter continued: "Warriors of the Apaches, throw down your arms!"

  They obeyed; and at a signal from the guide, the Mexicans bound theiropponents without further difficulty.

  As soon as the redskins acknowledged their defeat, they awaited, withcomplete apathy and their usual fatalism, the doom their victors mightthink fit to impose upon them.

  Out of twenty Apache braves, only eight remained alive: the rest hadfallen.

  "At sunrise," said the hunter, "I will come and release you from yourbonds. Till then, stir not! I pardon once; never a second time."

  The Mexicans collected all the arms, freed all the horses tethered atone side of the camp, drove them into the forest, where they were soonlost to sight, and left the Apaches.

  "And now," exclaimed the hunter, "let us return to the senorita."

  "But," enquired Don Pedro, "is it really your intention to restorethese men to liberty?"

  "Assuredly. Would you have me leave them to be devoured by wild beasts?"

  "It would be no great misfortune," answered the rancorous _capataz_.

  "Are they not men, like ourselves?"

  "They are so little like ourselves, that it is hardly worth mention,"said the _capataz_.

  "And will you really dare to place yourself in the power of theseferocious beings, exasperated as they are by defeat?" asked the_hacendero_. "Do you not fear they will assassinate you?"

  "These men!" replied the hunter in disdain; "They would not dare."

  Don Pedro could not repress his amazement.

  "The redskins are the most vindictive of men," said he.

  "True," was the reply; "but I am not a man in their eyes."

  "What then?"

  "An evil spirit," murmured the hunter in a hoarse whisper.

  By this time they had reached the place where they had left theirhorses.

  The noise of the combat had extended itself to the spot where DonaHermosa was waiting; but that courageous girl, far from sufferingherself to be overcome by the very natural fear she experienced,understood the importance of the post confided to her, and remainedfirmly on her guard, a pistol in each hand, attentively listening toevery sound in the forest, ready to defend herself, and resolute to diesooner than fall into the hands of the Indians.

  Her father having explained to her what had occurred, they began theirjourney at the best speed of their horses.

  The whole night passed without slackening their pace. At sunrise theyhad cleared the forest, and there lay the bare wilderness, extending tothe horizon.

  They continued their route for two more hours, when they halted.

  The hunter addressed them: "We must part here." He spoke in a firm,voice, yet unable completely to conceal the feeling of sorrow whichpervaded him.

  "So soon!" said the girl naively

  "Thanks for that expression of regret, senorita; but I must go. You arebut a few miles from your _hacienda:_ the road is easy; my help is nolonger needful."

  "We must not part thus, senor," said the _hacendero_, holding out hishand; "I owe you too many obligations."

  "Forget them, _caballero_," vehemently exclaimed the young hunter;"forget me too: we must never meet again. You return to civilised life,I to the desert. Our roads are far apart; for your sake and for mine,pray that we never again stand face to face. Only," he added, liftinghis eyes to the senorita, "I carry with me a memory of you which cannever be effaced. And now, farewell! Yonder are the _vaqueros_ of your_hacienda_ approaching to meet you. You are in safety."

  He bent his head to his saddlebow, tuned his horse, and began to gallopaway. But, looking back, he perceived Dona Hermosa riding after him.

  "Stay," she exclaimed.

  He obeyed mechanically.

  "Look," said she, presenting to him a slender gold ring; "of all mypossessions, I value this ring the most; it belonged to my mother whomI never knew. Keep it in memory of me, senor."

  The senorita rode off, leaving the ring in his hand without giving himtime to reply.