CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.
A VEXED TREATY.
Within the barranca was the mine. The shafts, rude diggings, piercedthe cliffs on both sides, like so many caves. The bottom between thecliffs was bisected by a rivulet that murmured among loose rocks.
On the banks of this rivulet stood the old smelting-houses and ruinedranches of the miners. Most of them were roofless and crumbling todecay. The ground about them was shaggy and choked up. There werebriars, mezcal plants, and cacti--all luxuriant, hirsute, and thorny.
Approaching this point, the road on each side of the barranca suddenlydips, the trails converging downward, and meeting among the ruins.
When in view of these, both parties halted and signalled each otheracross the ravine. After a short parley, it was proposed by theNavajoes that the captives and horses should remain on the top of thehill, each train to be guarded by two men. The rest, eighteen on eachside, should descend to the bottom of the barranca, meet among thehouses, and, having smoked the calumet, arrange the terms of theexchange.
Neither Seguin nor I liked this proposal. We saw that, in the event ofa rupture in the negotiation (a thing we more than half anticipated),even should our party overpower the other, we could gain nothing.Before we could reach the Navajo captives, up the steep hill, the twoguards would hurry them off; or (we dreaded to think of it) butcher themon the ground! It was a fearful thought, but there was nothingimprobable in it.
We knew, moreover, that smoking the peace-pipe would be another waste oftime; and we were on thorns about the approach of Dacoma's party.
But the proposal had come from the enemy, and they were obstinate. Wecould urge no objections to it without betraying our designs; and wewere compelled, though loth, to accept it.
We dismounted, leaving our horses in charge of the guard, and descendinginto the ravine, stood face to face with the warriors of Navajo.
They were eighteen picked men; tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular.The expression of their faces was savage, subtle, and grim. There wasnot a smile to be seen, and the lip that at that moment had betrayed onewould have lied. There was hate in their hearts and vengeance in theirlooks.
For a moment both parties stood scanning each other in silence. Thesewere no common foes; it was no common hostility that for years hadnerved them against each other; and it was no common cause that had now,for the first time, brought them face to face without arms in theirhands. A mutual want had forced them to their present attitude ofpeace, though it was more like a truce between the lion and tiger whichhave met in an avenue of the jungly forest, and stand eyeing oneanother.
Though by agreement without arms, both were sufficiently armed, and theyknew that of each other.
The handles of tomahawks, the hafts of knives, and the shining butts ofpistols, peeped carelessly out from the dresses both of hunters andIndians. There was little effort made to conceal these dangerous toys,and they were on all sides visible.
At length our mutual reconnaissance came to a period, and we proceededto business.
There happened to be no breadth of ground clear of weeds and thornyrubbish, where we could seat ourselves lor the "smoke." Seguin pointedto one of the houses, an adobe structure in a tolerable state ofpreservation, and several entered to examine it. The building had beenused as a smelting-house, and broken trucks and other implements werelying over the floor. There was but one apartment, not a large oneeither, and near its centre stood a brazero covered with cold slag andashes.
Two men were appointed to kindle a fire upon the brazero, and the rest,entering, took their seats upon the trucks and masses of quartz rock orethat lay around the room!
As I was about seating myself, an object leaped against me from behind,uttering a low whine that ended in a bark. I turned, and beheld the dogAlp. The animal, frenzied with delight, rushed upon me repeatedly; andit was some time before I could quiet him and take my place.
At length we all were seated upon opposite sides of the fire, each partyforming the arc of a circle, concave to the other.
There was a heavy door still hanging upon its hinge; and as there wereno windows in the house, this was suffered to remain open. It opened tothe inside.
The fire was soon kindled, and the clay-stone calumet filled with"kini-kinik." It was then lighted, and passed from mouth to mouth inprofound silence.
We noticed that each of the Indians, contrary to their usual custom oftaking a whiff or two, smoked long and slowly. We knew it was a ruse toprotract the ceremony and gain time; while we--I answer for Seguin andmyself--were chafing at the delay.
When the pipe came round to the hunters, it passed in quicker time.
The unsocial smoke was at length ended, and the negotiation began.
At the very commencement of the "talk," I saw that we were going to havea difficulty. The Navajoes, particularly the younger warriors, assumeda bullying and exacting attitude that the hunters were not likely tobrook; nor would they have submitted to it for a moment but for thepeculiar position in which their chief was placed. For his sake theyheld in as well as they could; but the tinder was apparent, and wouldnot bear many sparks before it blazed up.
The first question was in relation to the number of the prisoners. Theenemy had nineteen, while we, without including the queen or the Mexicangirls, numbered twenty-one. This was in our favour; but, to oursurprise, the Indians insisted that their captives were grown women,that most of ours were children, and that two of the latter should beexchanged for one of the former!
To this absurdity Seguin replied that we could not agree; but, as he didnot wish to keep any of their prisoners, he would exchange thetwenty-one for the nineteen.
"Twenty-one!" exclaimed a brave; "why, you have twenty-seven. Wecounted them on the bank."
"Six of those you counted are our own people. They are whites andMexicans."
"Six whites!" retorted the savage; "there are but five. Who is thesixth?"
"Perhaps it is our queen; she is light in colour. Perhaps the palechief has mistaken her for a white!"
"Ha! ha! ha!" roared the savages, in a taunting laugh. "Our queen awhite! Ha! ha! ha!"
"Your queen," said Seguin, in a solemn voice; "your queen, as you callher, is my daughter."
"Ha! ha! ha!" again howled they, in scornful chorus; "your daughter!Ha! ha! ha!" and the room rang with their demoniac laughter.
"Yes!" repeated he, in a loud but faltering voice, for he now saw theturn that things were taking. "Yes, she is my daughter."
"How can that be?" demanded one of the braves, an orator of the tribe."You have a daughter among our captives; we know that. She is white asthe snow upon the mountain-top. Her hair is yellow as the gold uponthese armlets. The queen is dark in complexion; among our tribes thereare many as light as she, and her hair is like the wing of the blackvulture. How is that? Our children are like one another. Are notyours the same? If the queen be your daughter, then the golden-hairedmaiden is not. You cannot be the father of both. But no!" continuedthe subtle savage, elevating his voice, "the queen is not your daughter.She is of our race--a child of Montezuma--a queen of the Navajoes!"
"The queen must be returned to us!" exclaimed several braves; "she isours; we must have her!"
In vain Seguin reiterated his paternal claim. In vain he detailed thetime and circumstances of her capture by the Navajoes themselves. Thebraves again cried out--
"She is our queen; we must have her!"
Seguin, in an eloquent speech, appealed to the feelings of the oldchief, whose daughter was in similar circumstances; but it was evidentthat the latter lacked the power, if he had the will, to stay the stormthat was rising. The younger warriors answered with shouts of derision,one of them crying out that "the white chief was raving."
They continued for some time to gesticulate, at intervals declaringloudly that on no terms would they agree to an exchange unless the queenwere given up. It was evident that some mysterious tie bound them tosuch extreme loyalt
y. Even the exchange of Dacoma was less desired bythem.
Their demands were urged in so insulting a manner that we felt satisfiedit was their intention, in the end, to bring us to a fight. The rifles,so much dreaded by them, were absent; and they felt certain of obtaininga victory over us.
The hunters were equally willing to be at it, and equally sure of aconquest.
They only waited the signal from their leader.
A signal was given; but, to their surprise and chagrin, it was one ofpeace!
Seguin, turning to them and looking down--for he was upon his feet--cautioned them in a low voice to be patient and silent. Then coveringhis eyes with his hand, he stood for some moments in an attitude ofmeditation.
The hunters had full confidence in the talents as well as bravery oftheir chief. They knew that he was devising some plan of action, andthey patiently awaited the result.
On the other side, the Indians showed no signs of impatience. Theycared not how much time was consumed, for they hoped that by this timeDacoma's party would be on their trail. They sat still, exchangingtheir thoughts in grunts and short phrases, while many of them filled upthe intervals with laughter. They felt quite easy, and seemed not inthe least to dread the alternative of a fight with us. Indeed, to lookat both parties, one should have said that, man to man, we would havebeen no match for them. They were all, with one or two exceptions, menof six feet--most of them over it--in height; while many of the hunterswere small-bodied men. But among these there was not one "whitefeather."
The Navajoes knew that they themselves were well armed for closeconflict. They knew, too, that we were armed. Ha! they little dreamthow we were armed. They saw that the hunters carried knives andpistols; but they thought that, after the first volley, uncertain andill-directed, the knives would be no match for their terrible tomahawks.They knew not that from the belts of several of us--El Sol, Seguin,Garey, and myself--hung a fearful weapon, the most fearful of all othersin close combat: the Colt revolver. It was then but a new patent, andno Navajo had ever heard its continuous and death-dealing detonations.
"Brothers!" said Seguin, again placing himself in an attitude to speak,"you deny that I am the father of the girl. Two of your captives, whomyou know to be my wife and daughter, are her mother and sister. Thisyou deny. If you be sincere, then, you cannot object to the proposal Iam about to make. Let them be brought before us; let her be brought.If she fail to recognise and acknowledge her kindred, then shall I yieldmy claim, and the maiden be free to return with the warriors of Navajo."
The hunters heard this proposition with surprise. They knew thatSeguin's efforts to awaken any recollection of himself in the mind ofthe girl had been unsuccessful. What likelihood was there that shewould remember her mother? But Seguin himself had little hope of this,and a moment's reflection convinced us that his proposal was based uponsome hidden idea.
He saw that the exchange of the queen was a _sine qua non_ with theIndians; and without this being granted, the negotiations wouldterminate abruptly, leaving his wife and younger daughter still in thehands of our enemies. He reflected on the harsh lot which would awaitthem in their captivity, while she returned but to receive homage andkindness. They must be saved at every sacrifice; she must be yielded upto redeem them.
But Seguin had still another design. It was a strategic manoeuvre, adesperate and _dernier ressort_ on his part. It was this: he saw that,if he could once get the captives, his wife and daughter, down among thehouses, there would be a possibility, in the event of a fight, ofcarrying them off. The queen, too, might thus be rescued as well. Itwas the alternative suggested by despair.
In a hurried whisper he communicated this to those of his comradesnearest him, in order to insure their prudence and patience.
As soon as the proposal was made, the Navajoes rose from their seats,and clustered together in a corner of the room to deliberate. Theyspoke in low tones. We could not, of course, understand what was said;but from the expression of their faces, and their gesticulations, wecould tell that they seemed disposed to accept it. They knew that thequeen had not recognised Seguin as her father. They had watched herclosely as she rode down the opposite side of the barranca; in fact,conversed by signals with her, before we could interfere to prevent it.No doubt she had informed them of what happened at the canon withDacoma's warriors, and the probability of their approach. They hadlittle fear, then, that she would remember her mother. Her longabsence, her age when made captive, her after-life, and the more thankind treatment she had received at their hands, had long since blottedout every recollection of her childhood and its associations. Thesubtle savages well knew this; and at length, after a discussion whichlasted for nearly an hour, they resumed their seats, and signified theirassent to the proposal.
Two men, one from each party, were now sent for the three captives, andwe sat waiting their arrival.
In a short time they were led in.
I find a difficulty in describing the scene that followed. The meetingof Seguin with his wife and daughter; my own short embrace and hurriedkiss; the sobs and swooning of my betrothed; the mother's recognition ofher long-lost child; the anguish that ensued as her yearning heart madeits appeals in vain; the half-indignant, half-pitying looks of thehunters; the triumphant gestures and ejaculations of the Indians: allformed points in a picture that lives with painful vividness in mymemory, though I am not sufficiently master of the author's art to paintit.
In a few minutes the captives were led out of the house, guarded by twomen, while the rest of us remained to complete the negotiation.