Read The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan War Page 9


  CHAPTER IX.

  HOSPITALITY.

  We have said that night had fallen for some time past, and it was quitedark under covert. In the black sky a chaos of clouds, laden with theelectric fluid, rolled heavily along. Not a star glistened in the vaultof heaven; an autumnal breeze whistled gustily through the trees, and ateach blast covered the ground with a shower of dead leaves.

  In the distance could be heard the dull and mournful appeals of the wildbeasts proceeding to the drinking place, and the snapping bark of thecoyotes, whose ardent eyes at intervals gleamed like incandescent coalsamid the shrubs. At times lights flashed in the forest and ran along thefine marsh grass like will-o'-the-wisps. Large dried up sumach treesstood at the corners of the clearing, in which the bivouac wasestablished, and in the fantastic gleams of the fire waved like phantomstheir winding sheets of moss and lianas. A thousand sounds passedthrough the air; nameless cries escaped from invisible lairs, hollowedbeneath the roots of the aged trees; stifled cries descended from thecrests of the quebradas, and our adventurers felt an unknown worldliving around them, whose proximity froze the soul with a secret terror.

  Nature was sad and melancholy, as when she is in travail with one ofthose terrible overthrows so frequent in these regions. In spite ofthemselves, the hunters underwent the influence of this discomfort ofthe desert. There are black hours in life, in which, either through theaction of external objects, or the common and mysterious disposition ofthe inner being, that _me_ which cannot be defined, the strongest menfeel unconsciously mastered by a strange contagion of sadness which theyseem to breathe in the air, and which overpowers them without power ofdefence. The news brought by Quoniam had further augmented this tendencyof the hunters to melancholy; hence the conversation round the fire,ordinarily gay and careless, was sad and short. Everyone yielded to theflood of gloomy thoughts that contracted his heart, and the few wordsexchanged at lengthened intervals between the hunters generally remainedunanswered.

  Carmela alone, lively as a nightingale, continued in a low voice herconversation with Singing-bird, while warming herself, for the night wascold, and not noticing the anxious sideglances which the Canadian attimes gave her. At the moment when Lanzi and Quoniam were preparing togo to sleep, a slight crackling was heard in the shrubs. The hunters,suddenly torn from their secret thoughts, raised their heads quickly.The horses had stopped eating, and with their heads turned to thethicket, and ears laid back, appeared to be listening.

  In the desert, everything has a reason; the wood rangers, accustomed toanalyse all the rumours of the prairie, know and explain them withoutever making a mistake; the rustling of the branch on which the handrests, the noise of the leaf falling on the ground, the murmur of thewater over the pebbles--nothing escapes the marvellous sagacity of thesemen, whose senses have acquired an extraordinary delicacy.

  "Someone is prowling round us," Loyal Heart muttered in a voice notabove a breath.

  "A spy, of course," said Lanzi.

  "Spy or no, the man who is approaching is certainly a white," saidTranquil, as he stretched out his arm to clutch the rifle lying by hisside.

  "Stay, father," Carmela said eagerly, as she seized his arm; "perhaps itis a poor wretch lost in the desert, who needs help."

  "It may be so," Tranquil replied after a moment's reflection; "at anyrate, we shall soon know."

  "What do you intend doing?" the girl exclaimed, terrified at seeing himrise.

  "Go and meet the man, and ask him what he wants, that is all."

  "Take care, father."

  "Of what, my child?"

  "Suppose this man were one of the bandits who traverse the desert?"

  "Well, what then?"

  "And he were to kill you?"

  The Canadian shrugged his shoulders.

  "Kill me, girl, nonsense! Reassure yourself, my child, whoever the manmay be, he will not see me unless I deem it necessary. So let me alone."

  The maiden tried once more to prevent his departure, but the Canadianwould listen to nothing. Freeing himself gently from Carmela'saffectionate clutch, he picked up his rifle and disappeared in thechaparral with so light and well-measured a step, that he seemed ratherto be gliding on a cloud, than walking on the grass of the clearing.

  So soon as he reached the centre of the thicket, from which theill-omened sound he had heard came, the hunter, ignorant as he was as tohow many enemies he had to deal with, redoubled his prudence andprecautions: after a hesitation which lasted only a few seconds, he laydown on the ground, and began gently crawling through the grass, withoutproducing the slightest rustling sound.

  We will now return to the monk, whom we left proceeding toward thehunters' bivouac, accompanied by Blue-fox. The Apache Chief, aftergiving him the instructions he thought best adapted to inspire him witha wholesome terror, and compel him to serve his plans, left him alone,and disappeared so suddenly, that the monk could not guess in whatdirection he had gone. When he was alone, Fray Antonio took a timidglance around him; his mind was perplexed, for he could not conceal fromhimself how delicate and difficult of accomplishment was the missionwith which the Chief had entrusted him, especially when dealing with aman so clever and well versed in Indian tricks as the tiger killer.

  More than once the monk cursed the malignity of his planet which led himinto such traps, and seemed to take a delight in accumulating on hishead all the annoyances and tribulations possible. For a moment, hethought of flight, but he reflected that he was doubtless carefullywatched, and that at the slightest suspicious movement he attempted, theinvisible guardians who were watching him would suddenly appear beforehim, and compel him to carry out the adventure to the end.

  Fortunately for himself, the monk belonged to that privileged class ofmen whom even the greatest annoyances but slightly affect, and who,after feeling wretched for a few moments, frankly make up their minds,saying to themselves that when the moment arrives in which they run arisk, an accident will perhaps draw them from their trouble, and turnmatters to their advantage, in lieu of crushing them.

  This reasoning, false though it be, is employed more frequently than maybe supposed by a number of people, who, after saying to themselves "whenit comes, we shall see," push boldly onwards, and, extraordinary to say,generally succeed in getting out of the hobble, without the loss of toomany feathers, and without themselves knowing what they did to have solucky an escape.

  The monk, therefore, resolutely entered the covert, guiding himself bythe light of the fire as a beacon. For some minutes he went on at atolerable pace, but gradually as he approached, his alarm returned; heremembered the rough correction Captain Melendez had administered tohim, and this time he feared even worse.

  Still, he was now so near the bivouac that any backsliding would beuseless. For the purpose of granting himself a few minutes' furtherrespite, he dismounted, and fastened his horse to a tree with extremeslowness: then, having no further plausible pretext to offer himself fordelaying his arrival among the hunters, he decided on starting again,employing the most minute precautions not to be perceived too soon,through fear of receiving a bullet in his chest, before he had time tohave an explanation with the persons he visited at so awkward an hour.

  But Fray Antonio, unluckily for himself, was extremely obese; he walkedheavily, and like a man accustomed to tread the pavement of a town;moreover, the night was extremely dark, which prevented him seeing twoyards ahead, and he could only progress with outstretched hands,tottering at each step, and running against every obstacle that cameacross his path.

  Hence he did not go far, ere he aroused the persons he desired so muchto surprise, and whose practised ear, constantly on the watch, had atonce noticed the unusual sound which he had himself not noticed. FrayAntonio, extremely satisfied with his manner of progression, andcongratulating himself in his heart at having succeeded so well inconcealing himself, grew bolder and bolder, and began to feel almostentirely reassured, when suddenly he uttered a slight cry of terror, andstopped as if his feet had been rooted i
n the ground. He had felt aheavy hand laid on his shoulder.

  The monk began trembling all over, though not daring to turn his head tothe right or left, for he was persuaded in his heart that his last hourhad arrived.

  "Hilloh, Se?or Padre, what are you doing in the forest at such an hour?"a hoarse voice then said to him.

  But Fray Antonio was unable to answer; terror had rendered him deaf andblind.

  "Are you dumb?" the voice went on a minute after in a friendly voice."Come, come, it is not wise to traverse the desert at so late an hour."

  The monk did not reply.

  "Deuce take me," the other exclaimed, "if terror has not rendered himidiotic. Come, bestir yourself, canarios."

  And he began shaking him vigorously.

  "Eh, what?" the monk said, in whom a species of reaction was beginningto take place.

  "Come, there is some progress, you speak, hence you are not dead,"Tranquil went on joyously, for it was he who had so cruelly frightenedthe monk; "follow me, you must be frozen, don't let us remain here."

  And passing his arm through the monk's, he led him away; the latterfollowed him passively and mechanically, not able yet to understand whatwas happening to him, but still beginning to regain a small amount ofcourage. In a few minutes, they reached the clearing.

  "Ah!" Carmela exclaimed in surprise; "Fray Antonio! By what accident ishe here, when he started with the conducta de plata?"

  This remark made the hunter prick his ears; he examined the monkattentively, and then compelled him to sit down by the fire.

  "I trust that the good father will explain to us what has happened tohim," he muttered.

  Everything, however, has an end in this world; and the monk for sometime past had seemed destined to pass, with the greatest rapidity andalmost without transition, from the extremest terror to the mostcomplete security. When he was a little warmed, the confusion producedin his ideas by the sudden meeting with the hunter gradually yielded tothe cordial reception given him; and Carmela's gentle voice breakingpleasantly on his ear, completely re-established the balance of hismind, and dismissed the mournful apprehensions that tormented him.

  "Do you feel better, holy Father?" Carmela asked him, with muchsympathy.

  "Yes," he said, "I thank you, I am now quite comfortable."

  "All the better. Will you eat? Would you like to take any refreshment?"

  "Nothing at all, I thank you, for I have not the least appetite."

  "Perhaps you are thirsty, Fray Antonio; if so, here is a bota ofrefino," said Lanzi, as he offered him a skin more than half full of thecomforting liquid.

  The monk permitted himself to be persuaded sufficiently to prove that hewas no lover of ardent spirits; then he allowed himself to be convinced,and seizing the bota, drank a hearty draught of the generous fluid. Thislibation restored him all his coolness and presence of mind.

  "Then," he said, as he turned the bota to the half-breed, and gave ventto a sigh of relief, "Heaven preserve me; were the Evil One to come nowin person, I feel capable of holding my own against him."

  "Ah, ah!" said Tranquil, "It seems, my good father, as if you were nowcompletely restored to the possession of your intellectual faculties."

  "Yes, and I will give you the proof whenever you like."

  "Hang it! You challenge me. I did not dare cross-question you before;but, as it is so, I will no longer hesitate."

  "What do you wish to know?"

  "A very simple matter: how it is that a monk finds himself at such anhour alone in the heart of the desert?"

  "Nonsense," Fray Antonio said, gaily. "Who told you that I was alone?"

  "Nobody; but I suppose so."

  "Do not make any suppositions, brother, for you would be mistaken."

  "Indeed!"

  "Yes, as I have the honour of telling you."

  "Still, when I met you, you were alone."

  "Granted."

  "Well?"

  "The others were further off, that's all."

  "What others?"

  "The persons who accompanied me."

  "Ah! And who are they?"

  "That is the question----Nonsense," he said, a minute after, as ifholding a conversation with himself, "the most disadvantageous reportsare current about me. I am accused of a number of bad actions; suppose Iwere to try and do a good one, that might change my luck. Who knowswhether I may not be rewarded at a later date? At any rate, here goes."

  Tranquil and his comrades listened in extreme surprise to the monologueof the monk, not knowing exactly what to think of this man, and halfinclined to deem him mad. The latter perceived the impression heproduced on his hearers.

  "Listen," he said, in a stern voice, and with a slight frown, "form whatopinion of me you like, that is a matter of indifference to me; still Ido not wish it to be said, that I requited your cordial hospitality byodious treachery."

  "What do you mean?" Tranquil exclaimed.

  "Listen to me. I uttered the word treachery, and perhaps I was wrong,for nothing proves to me that it is so; still, all sorts of reasons leadme to suppose that it is nothing else persons tried to force me intocommitting for your injury."

  "Explain yourself, in Heaven's name; you speak in enigmas, and it isimpossible to understand you."

  "You are right, so I will be clear: which of you gentlemen bears thename of Tranquil?"

  "It is I."

  "Very good. Owing to certain circumstances, the recital of which wouldnot at all interest you, I unluckily fell into the hands of theApaches."

  "Apaches!" Tranquil exclaimed, in surprise.

  "Good Lord, yes," the monk continued; "and I assure you that when Ifound myself in their power, I did not feel at all comfortable. Still, Iwas wrong to be alarmed; far from inventing for me one of thoseatrocious tortures which they mercilessly inflict on the whites who areso unhappy as to become their prisoners, they treated me, on thecontrary, with extreme gentleness."

  Tranquil fixed a scrutinising glance on the monk's placid face.

  "For what purpose did they that?" he asked, with a suspicious accent.

  "Ah," Fray Antonio went on, "that I could not comprehend, though I amperhaps beginning to suspect it."

  The hearers bent toward the speaker with an expression of impatientcuriosity.

  "This evening," the monk went on, "the Chief of the Redskins himselfaccompanied me to within a short distance of your bivouac; on coming insight of your fire he pointed it out to me, saying, 'Go and sit down atthat brasero. You will tell the great Pale hunter that one of his oldestand dearest friends desires to see him.' Then he left me, after makingthe most horrible threats if I did not obey him at once. You know therest."

  Tranquil and his comrades regarded each other in amazement, but withoutexchanging a word. There was a rather long silence; but Tranquil atlength took on himself to express aloud the thought each had in hisheart.

  "'Tis a trap," he said.

  "Yes," Loyal Heart remarked; "but for what purpose?"

  "How do I know?" the Canadian muttered.

  "You said, Fray Antonio," the young man continued, addressing the monk,"that you suspected the motives of the Apaches' extraordinary treatmentof you?"

  "I did say so," he replied.

  "Let us know that suspicion."

  "It was suggested to me by the conduct of the pagans, and by the clumsysnare they laid for you; it is evident to me that the Apache Chiefhopes, if you consent to grant the interview he asks, to profit by yourabsence to carry off Do?a Carmela."

  "Carry me off!" the maiden exclaimed, with a start of horror, surprisedand alarmed at once by this conclusion, which she was far fromanticipating.

  "The Redskins are very fond of white women," the monk continued, coolly;"most of the incursions they make into our territory are undertaken forthe purpose of carrying off captives of that colour."

  "Oh!" Carmela exclaimed, with an accent of indomitable resolution, "Iwould sooner die than become the slave of one of those ferociousdemons."

 
; Tranquil shook his head sadly. "The monk's supposition appears to mecorrect," he said.

  "The more so," Fray Antonio confirmed him, "because the Apaches who mademe prisoner are the same that attacked the Venta del Potrero."

  "Oh, oh," said Lanzi, "in that case I know their Chief, and his name; heis one of the most implacable enemies of the white men. It is veryunlucky that I did not succeed in burying him under the ruins of theventa, for Heaven is my witness that such was my intention."

  "What is the fellow's name?" the hunter asked, sharply, evidentlyannoyed at his verbiage.

  "Blue-fox!" said Lanzi.

  "Ah," Tranquil said, ironically and with a dark frown, "I have knownBlue-fox for many years, and you, Chief?" he added, turning toBlack-deer.

  The name of the Apache Sachem had produced such an impression on thePawnee, that the hunter was startled by it. The Indians retain under allcircumstances an apathetic mask, which they consider it an honour not toremove, whatever may happen; but the mere name of Blue-fox, pronouncedas if by accident, was sufficient to melt that indifference, and causeBlack-deer to forget Indian etiquette.

  "Blue-fox is a dog, the son of a coyote," he said, as he spat on theground disdainfully; "the gypa?tes would refuse to devour his uncleancarcase."

  "These two men must have a mortal hatred for each other," the Canadianmuttered, as he took a sideglance at the inflamed features and sparklingeyes of the Indian Chief.

  "Will my brother kill Blue-fox?" the Pawnee asked.

  "It is probable," Tranquil answered; "but in the first place, let us tryto play this master rogue a trick, who fancies us stupid enough to becaught in the clumsy snares he lays in our path. Be frank, monk, haveyou told us the truth?"

  "On my honour."

  "I should prefer any other oath," the Canadian said ironically, in a lowvoice. "Can you be trusted?"

  "Yes."

  "Is what you said to us about your return to honest courses sincere?"

  "Put me on my trial."

  "That is what I intend to do; but reflect ere answering. Do you reallyintend to be of service to us?"

  "I do."

  "Whatever may happen?"

  "Whatever may happen, and whatever the consequence may be of what youask of me."

  "That will do. I warn you that, in all probability, you will be exposedto serious perils."

  "I have told you that my resolution is formed; speak, therefore, withoutfurther hesitation."

  "Listen to me, then."

  "I am doing so. Have no fear of finding me recoil, so cut it short."

  "I will try to do so."