CHAPTER XXIII.
THE SNARE.
Running Water and White Crow placed themselves at the head of theirwarriors, who marched in Indian file, and forded the river. Theredskins who remained in the valley watched them cross and disappear inthe windings of the track they were following. The Stag remained fornearly an hour at the spot where his band had halted, and it was notuntil the sun had begun to descend on the horizon that he gave ordersto mount. The warriors at once quitted the protecting shade which hadsheltered them for several hours, and in a twinkling were ready tostart.
Among the warriors who accompanied the Stag were six with whom hewas very intimate; they several times entered the Mexican territoryunder different disguises, and had even got as far as the Haciendadel Barrio, where the majordomo received and sheltered them withoutexciting the slightest suspicion, so cleverly did they play the part ofIndios mansos. Of these six warriors four had been employed for severalmonths as vaqueros to guard the ganado.
The Stag had stipulated that this should be so, because, as he remarkedat the council, a day might come when it would be well for him to havemen ready at hand who were sufficiently acquainted with the customs ofthe redskins, to aid the tribe in carrying out the revenge which had solong been preparing. The council assented to the proposition, and themajordomo neglected nothing that his friends might make rapid progressin their knowledge of Mexican customs.
Sotavento had an object, but it was very different from the onewhich he suggested to the Comanches. Success had not only crownedthe Indian's efforts, but exceeded all his expectations, and his sixwarriors assumed in a very short time the manners of Mexican peons.Everybody knows the aptitude of redskins for doing or imitating whatthey please when they suppose they can derive any eventual profit byit, so what we state here will not arouse any surprise.
After recommencing his march, the Stag called up to him these sixwarriors, and began giving them confidential instructions in so lowa voice that they had a difficulty in catching and understanding hisremarks. It appeared as if the revelations he made to these men wereserious, for, in spite of the mask of stoicism with which Indianshabitually cover their face, their features suddenly displayed asurprise which soon assumed a distinct character of horror. But theStag did not give way; on the contrary, he redoubled his efforts,heaped promise on promise, flattery on flattery; in short, he managedso cleverly, that he ended by convincing them, or at least it seemedso, for, after a lengthened hesitation, they gave a nod of assent. Thechief shook his head.
"Wah!" he said in a louder voice. "My brothers are men of loyal heartsand iron arms. I believe in their word, but they have not sworn by thesacred totem of the tribe, and as they have not promised by word ofmouth, it is possible that the Wacondah may not remember their promise."
The warriors began laughing.
"The opossum is very crafty," one of the Indians said, "but the Stagjoins to the cunning of the opossum that of the guanaco."
"Wah!" said another, "The palefaces have taught the Stag all thecleverness of the Yoris."
"Well," he answered laughingly, "that of the Comanches is greaterstill; for is not the Comanche nation the Queen of the Prairies? Whowould dare, without leave, to traverse our hunting grounds. Will mybrothers swear by the totem?"
"We will," said the one who spoke first, "because we love our brother,and know that his intentions are good."
"Yes, that is true; we believe in you, chief."
At these words the seven men stopped, and let their comrades pass them.When the latter had disappeared in the windings of the track, and wereso far that they could neither see nor hear what was taking place, theStag made a sign, and the six warriors formed a circle round him. Thenthe chief drew his scalping knife from his belt, opened his huntingshirt, and placing the point of the blade against his heart, on whichwas drawn in red the totem, or emblem of his tribe, that is to say, abuffalo, he raised his right hand to the setting sun, and uttered thewords of the oath, the only one, perhaps, sacred to the Indians, asthere is no instance known of it having been broken.
"I, a great man of the Comanche nation, a son of the Red Buffalotribe, swear, in the presence of the sun, the visible representativeof the invisible Wacondah, the powerful master of life, to accomplishwithout hesitation everything which my master, the Stag, may demand ofme, consenting that the blade of my hunting knife, the point of whichis at this moment resting on the image of the totem of my tribe, maybe buried to the hilt in my heart, were I to break my oath which Inow voluntarily take. I also consent to submit to the most terriblepunishment the powerful Wacondah, the master of life, may deign toinflict on me. Hence, may the Wacondah remember my oath, in order toreward or punish me, according to my conduct."
The six warriors, following their chief's example, drew their scalpingknives, put the point on their heart, and repeated after him in asolemn voice, and an accent of conviction, the words he pronounced.
"I thank my brothers," he said, "they are truly great braves; the tailsof red wolves which hang from their heels do not speak falsehood."
The Indians bowed, and he continued--
"My brothers will leave me here, and go straight to the Elk's cavern;they have just time to get there, and prepare to carry out my orders:have my brothers thoroughly understood?"
"We have understood," they answered.
"In that case, my brothers will make their mustangs feel the whip; thesun is rapidly descending, it is nearly level with the grass, and itwill soon be night."
The warriors took leave of their chief, and turning to the right,vigorously lashed their horses, and disappeared in a whirlwind of dust.The Stag looked after them pensively; when he lost them out of sight,he whistled to his horse, and rejoined at a gallop his warriors, who,during the scene we have just described had continued their march, andwere some considerable distance ahead.
We will leave the Comanche warriors for a while, and let them glidelike snakes through the prairie grass, and cross the Rio Grande delNorte to enter Mexican territory. We will take up our narrative again afew hours later, at the moment when Dona Emilia, her daughter, and DonMelchior, attracted by the firing of Running Water's warriors, rushedinto the canyon, and by their mere presence caused the Indians thatinconceivable panic which made them fly in every direction, and abandontheir coveted prey when they were on the point of grasping it. Afterpursuing for some time the fugitives, to whom terror seemed to givewings, Dona Emilia prepared to return to the count and his comrades,when all at once she fancied she heard desperate cries in a wood alittle distance off, which she had passed unnoticed in the heat of thepursuit.
"What is the meaning of that?" Dona Emilia asked, as she checked hersteed. "Can there be any unhappy white men engaged with these demons onthis side?"
At the same moment the wind bore down to them the sound of severalshots.
"It appears like a serious action," Don Melchior answered. "Still Icannot understand the cause, for, with the exception of the count,there are not, to my knowledge, any white men travelling at present onthis border."
"You must be mistaken, my friend, and hark, the noise is increasing;forward, forward; who knows whether we may not have the good fortuneto save the life of some poor wretch. Those red demons fled so rapidlythat we could not catch up a single one."
"Mother," Dona Diana timidly observed, "would it not be better, beforeventuring again among the savages, to make certain with whom we have todeal, and the number of foes we may have to confront?"
"What good will that do, daughter?" Dona Emilia answered drily; "Thosemen are savages, I think that we do not require to know more."
"Permit me to insist, mother; I know not why, but for some days past,sad forebodings involuntarily pursue me; I fear that we have traitorsabout us, and that they are watching us. I am afraid! Alas! Is itfitting for women," she murmured feebly, "to wage war thus?"
Dona Emilia gave the maiden an angry glance. "Pigeon heart," she saidwith feverish energy, "who keeps you here? return to the hacienda; Iwi
ll be sufficient."
"I fear a snare, mother."
"A snare? Do you forget the terror with which my presence inspiresthese Pagans? You have long had a proof of it," she continued with acontemptuous smile; "but come, daughter, accompany me this time, and Iswear that I will not again force you to serve my hatred."
The young lady let her head drop but said nothing, and the three ridersstarted at full gallop in the direction of the shots, which became morefrequent the nearer they approached. They were soon close enough todistinguish all the details of the drama which was being performed buta few paces from them. At the top of a small mound, several Europeans,who could be easily recognized by their dress, ambuscaded behind theirhorses, whose throats they had cut to form them into a barricade, weredefending themselves like lions against twenty Indian warriors, whosurrounded and tried to capture them.
"Well?" Dona Emilia asked her daughter, as she pointed to this fight,whose incidents were growing more and more striking, "Is that a snare?"
"I am wrong, mother, I see," the young lady murmured; "and yet, Irepeat, I am afraid."
"Forward!" Dona Emilia cried.
The three riders passed like a hurricane through the midst of theredskins, throwing down and trampling on all who tried to oppose theirpassage. But then a strange and terrible thing took place. Severalshots, doubtless badly aimed and fired from the top of the mound wherethe Europeans were entrenched, struck in the head the horses of DonaEmilia and her daughter, who rolled on the ground unable to rise; atthe same moment an Indian warrior dashed at Don Melchior, brandishinghis lasso over his head. All at once the young man felt a frightfulshock, was lifted from the saddle by an irresistible force, anddragged along the ground. Don Melchior had been lassoed. In spite ofthe horrible suffering he endured, though half strangled by the slipknot which squeezed his throat, though wounded by roots and stonesover which his pitiless conqueror dragged him, the young man did notlose his presence of mind; by an extraordinary and superhuman effort,which only the certainty of a horrible death would give him the courageto attempt, Don Melchior clutched the fatal lasso with one hand, andwith the other seizing the sharp knife which every Mexican carries inhis boot, as a last resource, he succeeded in drawing it out, and,after two fruitless attempts, collecting all his strength for a finaleffort, he managed to cut the lasso; then, without calculating theconsequences of his deed, but preferring to run the chances of animmediate death, however terrible it might be, to falling alive intothe hands of his ferocious enemies, he recommended his soul to heavenin a mental prayer, and rolled down the incline of a precipice whichyawned a couple of yards from him.
At the moment when the energetic and courageous young man, who riskedthis desperate chance, probably in the hopes of escaping to save hiscompanions, disappeared down the abyss, the Indian warrior who haddragged him from his horse, perceiving that he had contrived to cutthe lasso, galloped up at full speed in order to prevent his flight.The Indian, who was no other than the Stag, fell into an indescribablepassion on seeing his foe escape him. He bent over the abyss, tryingto sound the darkness, and listening to the noises which rose fromthe bottom of the precipice; then, after a moment's hesitation, heresolutely dismounted, abandoned his horse, and clinging with feet andhands to branches and roots, he descended the quebrada in his turn.
The Stag understood of what importance the capture of Don Melchior wasto him. The consequences of his flight might be immense, and make himlose the fruits of the bold stroke he had attempted; hence, withoutreflecting further, he rushed in pursuit of him. After a considerableloss of time and unheard of efforts, he at length reached the bottom ofthe precipice. He then began seeking for his enemy with the tenacityand skill of a wild beast, not leaving a single bush uninspected.
But all was in vain; he found no trace of Don Melchior. The Indian hadone hope; it was that the Mexican, dragged down by the rapidity ofhis descent, had rolled into the deep, though narrow stream, whichran through the bottom of the quebrada, and had been drowned, ere hesufficiently regained his senses and strength to avoid this mortalfall. But if nothing contradicted this hope, nothing, on the otherhand, corroborated it, and the Comanche chief was constrained to quitthe spot, suffering from a doubt a thousand times more terrible thanthe most frightful certainty. After exploring the canyon for some timewith that wild beast's instinct which redskins possess so thoroughly,the chief succeeded in discovering a narrow path made by antelopes,which wound round the sides of the precipice. He hastily ascended it,feeling anxious about what had occurred among his warriors during hisabsence.
Let us now return to Dona Emilia and her daughter, whom we left in anextremely critical situation. The two ladies had been hurled to theground in such a way that it was impossible for them to rise withoutassistance. Their horses had been scarce shot ere the fight, whichappeared so obstinate between the white men and redskins, suddenlyceased as if by enchantment, and friends and foes on the best possibleterms approached the two prisoners, for they may be regarded as such.The first Indians who arrived near enough to Dona Emilia to recognizeher features, stopped in horror and fell back a few paces, saying totheir comrades, "The Queen of the Savannah! It is the Queen of theSavannah!"
A very decided retrograde movement then began among the Indians; theystopped and formed a wide circle about twenty yards from the twoladies; it was probable that not one of them was anxious to venturewithin reach of a woman whom all regarded as the evil genius of theirnation. The white men, or at least those who wore that dress, werealone bold enough to approach her, which they did not do, however,without very marked hesitation.
At last, after exchanging a few words in a low voice, two of thebravest of them ventured to assist the unhappy ladies, while theothers, who stopped a few yards off, kept their finger on the trigger,ready to fire at the slightest suspicious movement on the part of theprisoners. But they had nothing to fear from them; their fall hadcrushed them; they were nearly fainting, and could scarce keep up.
"If you are Christians," Dona Emilia murmured, in a faint voice, "helpmy daughter, my poor child; she is dying."
They made no reply, but after raising the two ladies with a speciesof sorrowful pity, they transported them to the top of the hill, andlaid them on furs near a fire, which the Indians had lit while theywere being brought up. Dona Diana then noticed that the horses lyingon the ground, behind which the defenders of the mound had shelteredthemselves, were not killed, as her mother had supposed, but merelybound so that they could not stir.
"Oh, my presentiments!" she murmured feebly, as she raised her eyes toheaven.
And she fainted, succumbing as much to the grief that filled her heart,as to the physical suffering she experienced.