CHAPTER XIX.
THE DUNGEON.
However brave a man may be it is not without a feeling of instinctiveterror that he finds himself suddenly cut off from society and shutup far from the company of other men, deprived of light and almost ofthe vital air necessary for the due play of the lungs. Darkness bringswith it sad and despairing thoughts; and however powerfully a man'scharacter may be tempered the first moments he passes in a dungeon,whatever may be the cause that has led him there, are crushing; but,fortunately, hope is the last feeling that breaks down in a man'sheart. His thoughts, constantly directed to the future, promptly recallto his heart the courage which had deserted it, and in a few hours,growing accustomed to his dungeon, he shakes off the prostration whichhad seized upon him, regards the position calmly, and only dreams ofthe means by which to regain the liberty he has lost, for that is thesole object of his thoughts, desires, and efforts.
The adventurer experienced all the feelings we have attempted todescribe; but as he was an energetic man, accustomed for many years toa life of struggle, mixed up with strange episodes, he did not allowhimself to be overcome by the horror of his situation, but, on thecontrary, regarded it with considerable calmness and philosophy. Whenhe had succeeded in restoring some order in his ideas, which had beenupset by such rapidly succeeding events, he prepared to inspect hisdungeon, which did not appear so dark as when he entered. In fact,on leaving the daylight his eyes had been at first blinded by thedarkness, but they gradually grew accustomed to the obscurity, and now,though he could not see clearly, he was able to distinguish objectssufficiently to walk about without groping his way.
"Well," he said, talking to himself, after the fashion of menaccustomed to live alone, "thanks to my good idea of not lettingmyself be touched, I have not been stripped of anything I possessed,and, spite of throwing the pistols on the ground, I could in case ofneed defend myself bravely with the weapons which I still possess. Letme reflect a little on what I had better do; and in the first place,according to the Indian fashion, I will smoke a pipe, for there isnothing like tobacco to clear the brain."
The Canadian's position was far from being desperate, and he saw thisnow that he was cool. In the matter of arms he still possessed a braceof pistols, and a knife with a long, sharp blade, a powder flask, abullet bag, tobacco, and everything requisite for striking a light, ifhe wanted it. These different articles, hidden beneath the wide foldsof his zarape, which fell from his shoulders to his knees, had escapedthe notice of his guards, who, moreover, acting in conformity with theorders the general had himself given, had not attempted to approach theprisoner.
As he had resolved, the Canadian seated himself as comfortably as hecould, with his back against the wall, lit his pipe, and fell into adeep reverie. He smoked thus for a few minutes with all the beatitudeof an Indian sachem, when he gave a start of surprise, almost ofterror, on hearing a sarcastic voice say, two paces from him--
"Ah, ah! The paleface escaped the redskins, but his own brothers haveseized him."
"Is there another prisoner in this dungeon?" the hunter asked.
"Yes," the stranger said, laconically.
"Who may you be, comrade; and why do you seem to rejoice so greatly atmy misfortune?"
"Running Water is a chief," the voice answered. "His heart is glad whenhe sees a paleface suffer."
"Much good may it do you, chief; but I don't exactly see what profityou can derive from my sufferings."
"Running Water is an enemy of the Yoris."
"In the first place, redskin, let us settle facts; I am not a Yori, buta Canadian hunter, which I take some pride in informing you is by nomeans the same thing."
"Does my brother speak truly? Is he really a great heart of the east?"
"I fancy that you can recognize that fact from my way of speakingSpanish. But where the deuce are you stowed away, chief, for I cannotsee you?"
"I am close to my brother, seated on his right hand."
The hunter looked carefully in the direction which the strange speakerindicated, and at length distinguished a human form crouched in acorner of the wall.
"On my word," he continued, "I am not sorry to have someone to talk to,for time passes more quickly. Tell me, chief, what have you done to behere?"
"Are not the Indians hunted like wild beasts by the Yoris?" heanswered, bitterly. "Is a pretext wanted to kill a redskin?"
"That is true, chief. You are right. It is unhappily but too true. Andhave you been a prisoner long?"
"Running Water fell into the trap he set for others. The sun was levelwith the lowest branches at the moment when his enemies threw him intothis hole like an unclean beast."
"That is a sad thing for you, chief; the more so, as in all probabilityyou will only leave it to march to your death."
"It will be welcome," the Indian said in a hollow voice, "since RunningWater's vengeance has escaped him."
There was a silence, during which the two men reflected.--
"If you succeeded in getting out of this hole, as you term it socorrectly," the Canadian presently continued, "and your liberty wererestored you, would you be grateful to the man who did you so great aservice?"
"My life would belong to him," the Indian exclaimed eagerly; butquickly recovering himself, he added, "Why should I believe such words?All the palefaces have crooked tongues; moreover, is not my brother aprisoner also?"
"That is true; but I may possibly find means to aid your escape. Ihave my plan; although my detention ought to be short, I have butvery slight confidence in the word of a man who, contrary to thelaw of nations, put me here; and, perhaps, instead of waiting for aproblematical tomorrow, I shall attempt to escape with you tonight. Iam not at all anxious to dance at the end of a rope."
The greater part of this explanation was thrown away on the redskin,who did not understand it in spite of the great attention he paid tothe hunter.
"Hence," the latter continued, "if you will let me act in my own way,we shall probably go away together, the more so because I have noreason to owe you a grudge, as you never did me any harm."
"Running Water is a chief," the redskin replied emphatically; "he willnot lie to save his life."
"Good. I know the principles of you Indians, and that when youbelieve yourself at death's door you seem to forget your system ofdissimulation, so explain yourself. I shall put faith in your wordswhatever you may say."
"Let my brother listen. He was attacked two nights ago by theredskins."
"True, chief. It would be droll had you been among the Indians whoattacked us."
"Running Water was there, but was ignorant of my brother's presence. Heonly attacked the Yoris."
"What you say seems to me tolerably probable. Still, White Crow came tomy camp and I had a rather long interview with him."
"My brother's words are true, but at that time the attack was resolvedon."
"In that case, I have nothing more to say. It was all right, for warhas its laws. Still, listen to me, chief, your words have caused me toreflect."
"Ah!" the Indian said bitterly, "Has the paleface changed his opinionnow?"
"Not positively, chief. Still, I confess frankly to you that, after theavowal you have made, I feel a certain repulsion to joining my fortunesto yours."
"What do the palefaces care for an Indian's life? He is not a man."
"You wrong me, chief; but I know that misfortune makes men unjust, andI forgive you."
"My brother is generous," the chief remarked ironically.
"More so than you imagine; if you will be pleased to listen withoutinterruption you shall have a proof of it."
"My brother can speak, my ears are open."
"I repeat that for certain present reasons I prefer remaining here, andrunning the risk of what may happen to trying to escape with you; but,for all that, I will not desert you, and, on the contrary, give you themeans to attempt a flight."
"Good, what are the means?"
The Canadian drew his knife from the sheath.
"It is probable," he continued, "that a gaoler will soon come to bringus food, for I do not suppose that they intend us to die of hunger.Take this knife; notice, by the by, that it is a most valuable weaponfor a prisoner, and that I give up mine for your sake. When the manto whom I refer appears, you will see what you have to do. Still,avoid killing him if you can, for we must never kill even an enemyunnecessarily."
The Indian seized the knife which the Canadian handed him, brandishedit round his head with a laugh of savage joy, and then passed itthrough his belt.
"Thanks, paleface," he said with an accent of profound gratitude. "Youhave done more for me than I ever could have expected from a man ofyour colour. To you I shall owe my escape from death, liberty, andthe accomplishment of the vengeance I have so long been pursuing. Mylife belongs to you, henceforth you are the master of it. Rememberthat you have a brother among the Comanches; the redskins never forgetan insult, and always retain the memory of a kindness. Now, I amcertain that you are not a Yori. May the Wacondah protect and be everfavourable to you. You have caused my heart a sensation of happinesssuch as it has not felt for many years."
After uttering these words with all the emphasis natural to his race,the Indian chief crouched down facing the door, and awaited withfeverish impatience the arrival of the gaoler. The Canadian laughedinwardly at the trick he was about to play the general. In his opinion,what he had done was quite fair; he had no consideration to maintainfor individuals who had disregarded the law of nations in theirtreatment of him, and after threatening to hang him, cast him like adog into a filthy dungeon. Besides, he had for the Indians generallythat instinctive pity which strong men feel for those whom theybelieve intellectually inferior to them. And then, was not the Indiana prisoner like himself? He, therefore, regarded him as an ally, andin favouring his flight, he secured himself a valuable friend for thefuture in the event of his falling into the hands of the redskins.
The two men remained silent, for they had nothing more to say to eachother. Several hours elapsed in this way. The redskin, calm, cold,and motionless, was watching for the arrival of the gaoler, as thejaguar of his forests does the prey that nourishes it, and the hunter,careless of what was going on around him, had wrapped himself in hiszarape, and was leaning half asleep against the wall. Probably, in theconfusion of the festival, the man ordered to supply the prisoners withfood let the hour pass, for the sun had long set, although the denizensof the dungeon could not perceive the fact, and nothing led to thesupposition that they would be fed.
"The deuce," the Canadian at length said, shaking himselfill-temperedly, "do these gabachos of Spaniards intend to keep uswithout supper? I am dying of hunger, caray! And you, chief, do you notfeel the want of some food, were it only a lump of hard bread?"
"The redskins are not greedy squaws. They can endure hunger withoutcomplaining."
"All that is very fine, but I am not an Indian, and when I have nothingto eat, deuce take me if I do not become ferocious."
"Silence," the Indian said as he listened attentively, "my brother willsoon eat. I hear footsteps approaching."
The adventurer held his tongue. For a moment he forgot his hunger towitness the scene that was about to take place. A considerable periodof time elapsed ere the noise which had struck the practised ear of thesavage was perceptible to the hunter. At length he heard the sound offootsteps, which grew louder and louder. A key turned in the lock, thebolts were drawn, the door swung back on its rusty hinges, and a manentered, holding a lantern in one hand and a basket in the other.
At the moment when this individual appeared in the doorway, the Indianleapt on him with a tiger's bound, threw him down and seized him by thethroat; before the poor fellow so unexpectedly attacked had time toutter a cry or make the slightest effort in his defence, he was boundand gagged. The Comanche, leaping over his body, ran down the passageand disappeared with extraordinary rapidity. All this took place sohurriedly, that the hunter guessed rather than saw what had occurred.The gaoler still lay motionless, with half his body inside, the otherhalf outside, the dungeon. When the Indian had disappeared, the hunterrose and went up to the gaoler.
"What the deuce are you doing there?" he said, as he bent over himand freed him with studied slowness from the bonds and the gag whichthe chief had driven in so conscientiously that he almost choked hisman. When the gaoler was liberated, and put on his legs again by hisprisoner, he looked around him in alarm, breathed forcibly two or threetimes, and then, uttering an exclamation of rage, he dashed down thepassage with shouts and oaths, forgetting in his hurry to lock the celldoor.
"Seek him," the hunter muttered with a cunning look, "you will be veryclever if you catch him. I know not what will come of all this; but thegeneral will be furious, and that is the main point."
And, without dreaming of imitating the chief's example, he picked upthe lantern, which by a singular chance had not been extinguished,took the basket, returned to the cell, sat down on the ground withthe light in front of him, and began eating with philosophic ease,growling from time to time at the parsimony of the Spaniards, who hadhardly given him enough to appease his outrageous hunger. The Canadianwas in the thick of this agreeable operation, when he suddenly heardin the passage a tremendous tumult of shouts and hurried footsteps,mingled with the clang of arms. A few minutes after, twenty officersand soldiers dashed like a whirlwind into the dungeon, among thembeing the gaoler, who alone gesticulated and shouted more than all therest. On seeing the hunter quietly engaged in eating, they stopped inamazement, so convinced were they that he would have escaped too. Whenthe agitation and tumult were slightly appeased, and it became possibleto hear anything, one of the officers at length addressed the hunter.
"What," he asked him, "have you not gone?"
"I?" he replied, looking up stupidly, "Why should I do so, as I shallbe free tomorrow?"
"You helped your companion's flight," the gaoler said, shaking his fistat him.
"You are an idiot, my friend; the man could not be my companion, as heis an Indian," he said, with the greatest calmness.
This remark so agreed with the ideas of his hearers, who, in theirCastilian pride, did not admit that an Indian was a man like another,that the conversation broke off abruptly here; the more so, becausenobody could suppose that a man who had favoured the flight of another,would not have escaped himself. Hence, instead of reproaching thehunter, the Spaniards apologized to him, and went away, astonishedat the philosophy of this man, who, when an opportunity for freedompresented itself, preferred remaining a prisoner. When the door closedon him again, the Canadian burst into an Homeric laugh, and made hisarrangements to pass the night in the least discomfort possible.