CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
As Carlos approached the spot where the chief had been slain he heardthe death-wail chanted by a chorus of voices.
On getting still nearer, he perceived a ring of warriors dismounted andstanding around a corpse. It was that of the fallen chief. Others,fresh from the pursuit, were gathering to the place; each taking up themelancholy dirge as he drew nigh.
The cibolero alighted, and walked forward to the ring. Some regardedhim with looks of surprise, while others, who knew he had aided them inthe fight, stepped up and grasped him by the hand. One old warriortaking Carlos' arm in his, led him forward to the ring, and silentlypointed to the now ghastly features, as though he was imparting to thecibolero the news that their chief was dead!
Neither he nor any of the warriors knew what part Carlos had borne inthe affair. No one, now alive, had been witness to the conflict inwhich the chief had fallen. Around the spot were high copses that hidit from the rest of the field, and, at the time this conflict occurred,the fight was raging in a different direction. The warrior, therefore,thought he was imparting to Carlos a piece of news, and the latterremained silent.
But there was a _mystery_ among the braves, and Carlos saw this by theirmanner. Five Indians lay dead upon the ground _unscalped_! That wasthe mystery. They were the three Panes, and the chief with the otherWaco. They could not have slain each other, and all have fallen on thespot. That was not probable. The Waco and one of the Panes lay apart.The other three were close together, just as they had fallen, the chiefimpaled by the Pane spear, while his slayer lay behind him stillgrasping the weapon! The red tomahawk was clutched firmly in the handsof the chief, and the cleft skull of the second Pane showed where it hadlast fallen.
So far the Indians translated the tableau, but the mystery lay notthere. Who had slain the slayer of their chief? That was the puzzle.Some one must have survived this deadly strife, where five warriors haddied together!
If a Pane, surely he would not have gone off without that great trophywhich would have rendered him famous for life,--the scalp of the Wacochief? If a Waco, where and who was he?
These questions passed from lip to lip. No one was found to answerthem, but there were yet some warriors to return from the pursuit, andthe inquiry was suspended, while the death-song was again chanted overthe fallen chief.
At length all the braves had arrived on the spot, and stood in a circlearound the body. One of the warriors stepped forward to the midst, andby a signal intimated that he wished to be heard. A breathless silencefollowed, and the warrior began:--
"Wacoes! our hearts are sad when they should otherwise rejoice. In themidst of victory a great calamity has fallen upon us. We have lost ourfather,--our brother! Our great chief--he whom we all loved--hasfallen. Alas! In the very hour of triumph, when his strong right handhad hewn down his enemy on the field--in that moment has he fallen!
"The hearts of his warriors are sad, the hearts of his people will longbe sad!
"Wacoes! our chief has not fallen unrevenged. His slayer lies at hisfeet pierced with the deadly dart, and weltering in his blood. Who ofyou hath done this?"
Here the speaker paused for a moment as if waiting for a reply. Nonewas given.
"Wacoes!" he continued, "our beloved chief has fallen, and our heartsare sad. But it glads them to know that his death has been avenged.There lies his slayer, still wearing his hated scalp. What bravewarrior claims the trophy? Let him stop forth and take it!"
Here there was another pause, but neither voice nor movement answeredthe challenge.
The cibolero was silent with the rest. He did not comprehend what wassaid, as the speech was in the Waco tongue, and he understood it not.He guessed that it related to the fallen chief and his enemies, but itsexact purport was unknown to him.
"Brothers!" again resumed the orator, "brave men are modest and silentabout their deeds. None but a brave warrior could have done this. Weknow that a brave warrior will avow it. Let him fear not to speak. TheWacoes will be grateful to the warrior who has avenged the death oftheir beloved chief."
Still the silence was unbroken, except by the voice of the orator.
"Brother warriors!" he continued, raising his voice and speaking in anearnest tone, "I have said that the Wacoes will be grateful for thisdeed. I have a proposal to make. Hear me!"
All signified assent by gestures.
"It is our custom," continued the speaker, "to elect our chief from thebraves of our tribe. I propose that we elect him _now_ and _here_--here! on the red field where his predecessor has fallen. _I propose forour chief the warrior who has done this deed_!" And the orator pointedto the fallen Pane.
"_My_ voice for the brave who has avenged our chief!" cried one.
"And mine!" shouted another.
"And mine! and mine! and mine!" exclaimed all the warriors.
"Then solemnly be it proclaimed," said the orator, "that he to whombelongs this trophy," he pointed to the scalp of the Pane, "shall bechief of the Waco nation!"
"Solemnly we avow it!" cried all the warriors in the ring, each placinghis hand over his heart as he spoke.
"Enough!" said the orator. "Who is chief of the Waco warriors? Let himdeclare himself on the spot!"
A dead silence ensued. Every eye was busy scanning the faces around thecircle, every heart was beating to hail their new chief.
Carlos, unconscious of the honour that was in store for him, wasstanding a little to one side, observing the movements of his duskycompanions with interest. He had not the slightest idea of the questionthat had been put. Some one near him, however, who spoke Spanish,explained to him the subject of the inquiry, and he was about to make amodest avowal, when one of the braves in the circle exclaimed--
"Why be in doubt longer? If modesty ties the tongue of the warrior, lethis weapon speak. Behold! his arrow still pierces the body of our foe.Perhaps it will declare its owner,--it is a marked one!"
"True!" ejaculated the orator. "Let us question the arrow!"
And, stepping forward, he drew the shaft from the body of the Pane, andheld it aloft.
The moment the eyes of the warriors fell upon its barbed head, anexclamation of astonishment passed from their lips. The head was of_iron_! No Waco ever used such a weapon as that!
All eyes were instantly turned on Carlos the cibolero, with looks ofinquiry and admiration. All felt that it must be from his bow had spedthat deadly shaft; and they were the more convinced of this because somewho had noticed the third Pane pierced with a rifle bullet, had justdeclared the fact to the crowd.
Yes, it must be so. The pale-face was the avenger of their chief!