CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
EL SOL AND LA LUNA.
"Come," said Seguin, touching me on the arm, "our supper is ready; I seethe doctor beckoning us." I was not slow to answer the call, for thecool air of the evening had sharpened my appetite. We approached thetent, in front of which was a fire.
Over this, the doctor, assisted by Gode and a pueblo peon, was justgiving the finishing touch to a savoury supper.
Part of it had already been carried inside the tent. We followed it,and took our seats upon saddles, blankets, and packs.
"Why, doctor," said Seguin, "you have proved yourself a perfect _maitrede cuisine_ to-night. This is a supper for a Lucullus."
"Ach! mein captain, ich have goet help; Meinherr Gode assist me mostwonderful."
"Well, Mr Haller and I will do full justice to your dishes. Let us tothem at once!"
"Oui, oui! bien, Monsieur Capitaine," said Gode, hurrying in with amultitude of viands. The "Canadien" was always in his element whenthere was plenty to cook and eat.
We were soon engaged on fresh steaks (of wild cows), roasted ribs ofvenison, dried buffalo tongues, tortillas, and coffee. The coffee andtortillas were the labours of the pueblo, in the preparation of whichviands he was Gode's master.
But Gode had a choice dish, _un petit morceau_, in reserve, which hebrought forth with a triumphant flourish.
"Voici, messieurs?" cried he, setting it before us.
"What is it, Gode?"
"Une fricassee, monsieur."
"Of what?"
"Les frog; what de Yankee call boo-frog!"
"A fricassee of bull-frogs!"
"Oui, oui, mon maitre. Voulez vous?"
"No, thank you!"
"I will trouble you, Monsieur Gode," said Seguin.
"Ich, ich, mein Gode; frocks ver goot;" and the doctor held out hisplatter to be helped.
Gode, in wandering by the river, had encountered a pond of giant frogs,and the fricassee was the result. I had not then overcome my nationalantipathy to the victims of Saint Patrick's curse; and, to thevoyageur's astonishment, I refused to share the dainty.
During our supper conversation I gathered some facts of the doctor'shistory, which, with what I had already learned, rendered the old man anobject of extreme interest to me.
Up to this time, I had wondered what such a character could be doing insuch company as that of the Scalp-hunters. I now learned a few detailsthat explained all.
His name was Reichter--Friedrich Reichter. He was a Strasburgher, andin the city of bells had been a medical practitioner of some repute.The love of science, but particularly of his favourite branch, botany,had lured him away from his Rhenish home. He had wandered to the UnitedStates, then to the Far West, to classify the flora of that remoteregion. He had spent several years in the great valley of theMississippi; and, falling in with one of the Saint Louis caravans, hadcrossed the prairies to the oasis of New Mexico. In his scientificwanderings along the Del Norte he had met with the Scalp-hunters, and,attracted by the opportunity thus afforded him of penetrating intoregions hitherto unexplored by the devotees of science, he had offeredto accompany the band. This offer was gladly accepted on account of hisservices as their medico; and for two years he had been with them,sharing their hardships and dangers.
Many a scene of peril had he passed through, many a privation had heundergone, prompted by a love of his favourite study, and perhaps, too,by the dreams of future triumph, when he would one day spread hisstrange flora before the _savants_ of Europe. Poor Reichter! PoorFriedrich Reichter! yours was the dream of a dream; it never became areality!
Our supper was at length finished, and washed down with a bottle of Pasowine. There was plenty of this, as well as Taos whisky in theencampment; and the roars of laughter that reached us from withoutproved that the hunters were imbibing freely of the latter.
The doctor drew out his great meerschaum, Gode filled a red claystone,while Seguin and I lit our husk cigarettes.
"But tell me," said I, addressing Seguin, "who is the Indian?--he whoperformed the wild feat of shooting the--"
"Ah! El Sol; he is a Coco."
"A Coco?"
"Yes; of the Maricopa tribe."
"But that makes me no wiser than before. I knew that much already."
"You knew it? Who told you?"
"I heard old Rube mention the fact to his comrade Garey."
"Ay, true; he should know him." Seguin remained silent.
"Well?" continued I, wishing to learn more. "Who are the Maricopas? Ihave never heard of them."
"It is a tribe but little known, a nation of singular men. They arefoes of the Apache and Navajo; their country lies down the Gila. Theycame originally from the Pacific, from the shores of the CalifornianSea."
"But this man is educated, or seems so. He speaks English and French aswell as you or I. He appears to be talented, intelligent, polite--inshort, a gentleman."
"He is all you have said."
"I cannot understand this."
"I will explain to you, my friend. That man was educated at one of themost celebrated universities in Europe. He has travelled farther andthrough more countries, perhaps, than either of us."
"But how did he accomplish all this? An Indian!"
"By the aid of that which has often enabled very little men (though ElSol is not one of those) to achieve very great deeds, or at least to getthe credit of having done so. By gold."
"Gold! and where got he the gold? I have been told that there is verylittle of it in the hands of Indians. The white men have robbed them ofall they once had."
"That is in general a truth; and true of the Maricopas. There was atime when they possessed gold in large quantities, and pearls too,gathered from the depths of the Vermilion Sea. It is gone. The Jesuitpadres could tell whither."
"But this man? El Sol?"
"He is a chief. He has not lost all his gold. He still holds enough toserve him, and it is not likely that the padres will coax it from himfor either beads or vermilion. No; he has seen the world, and haslearnt the all-pervading value of that shining metal."
"But his sister?--is she, too, educated?"
"No. Poor Luna is still a savage; but he instructs her in many things.He has been absent for several years. He has returned but lately to histribe."
"Their names are strange: `The Sun,' `The Moon'!"
"They were given by the Spaniards of Sonora; but they are onlytranslations or synonyms of their Indian appellations. That is commonupon the frontier."
"Why are they here?"
I put this question with hesitation, as I knew there might be somepeculiar history connected with the answer.
"Partly," replied Seguin, "from gratitude, I believe, to myself. Irescued El Sol when a boy out of the hands of the Navajoes. Perhapsthere is still another reason. But come," continued he, apparentlywishing to give a turn to the conversation, "you shall know our Indianfriends. You are to be companions for a time. He is a scholar, andwill interest you. Take care of your heart with the gentle Luna.Vincente, go to the tent of the Coco chief. Ask him to come and drink acup of Paso wine. Tell him to bring his sister with him."
The servant hurried away through the camp. While he was gone, weconversed about the feat which the Coco had performed with his rifle.
"I never knew him to fire," remarked Seguin, "without hitting his mark.There is something mysterious about that. His aim is unerring; and itseems to be on his part an act of pure volition. There may be someguiding principle in the mind, independent of either strength of nerveor sharpness of sight. He and another are the only persons I ever knewto possess this singular power."
The last part of this speech was uttered in a half soliloquy; andSeguin, after delivering it, remained for some moments silent andabstracted.
Before the conversation was resumed, El Sol and his sister entered thetent, and Seguin introduced us to each other. In a few moments we wereengaged, El Sol, the doctor, Seguin
, and myself, in an animatedconversation. The subject was not horses, nor guns, nor scalps, norwar, nor blood, nor aught connected with the horrid calling of thatcamp. We were discussing a point in the pacific science of botany: therelationship of the different forms of the cactus family.
I had studied the science, and I felt that my knowledge of it wasinferior to that of any of my three companions. I was struck with itthen, and more when I reflected on it afterwards; the fact of such aconversation, the time, the place, and the men who carried it on.
For nearly two hours we sat smoking and talking on like subjects.
While we were thus engaged I observed upon the canvas the shadow of aman. Looking forth, as my position enabled me without rising, Irecognised in the light that streamed out of the tent a hunting-shirt,with a worked pipe-holder hanging over the breast.
La Luna sat near her brother, sewing "parfleche" soles upon a pair ofmoccasins. I noticed that she had an abstracted air, and at shortintervals glanced out from the opening of the tent. While we wereengrossed with our discussion she rose silently, though not with anyappearance of stealth, and went out.
After a while she returned. I could read the love-light in her eye asshe resumed her occupation.
El Sol and his sister at length left us, and shortly after Seguin, thedoctor, and I rolled ourselves in our serapes, and lay down to sleep.