CHAPTER XXII.
LOYAL HEART'S HISTORY.
After the scene of torture we described a few chapters back, Loyal Heartreturned to his rancho with his friends, Tranquil, Lanzi, and thefaithful Quoniam. Fray Antonio had left the village the same morning toconvey to the Jaguar the news of the good reception given his companionsby the Comanches. The Whites sat down sorrowfully on equipals, andremained silent for some minutes. The horrible tortures inflicted onRunning-elk had affected them more than they liked to say. In fact, itwas a frightful and repulsive spectacle for men accustomed to fighttheir enemies bravely, and, when the battle was over, help the woundedwithout distinction of victors or vanquished.
"Hum!" Quoniam muttered, "the Red race is a brutal race."
"All races are the same," Tranquil answered "when abandoned withoutrestraint to the violence of their passions."
"The Whites are men more cruel than the Redskins," Loyal Heart observed,"because they act with discernment."
"That is true," John Davis struck in, "but that does not prevent thescene we have just witnessed being a horrible one."
"Yes," said Tranquil, "horrible is the word."
"Come," Loyal Heart remarked, for the purpose of changing theconversation, "did you not tell me, my friend, that you were entrustedwith a message for me? I fancy the moment has arrived for anexplanation."
"In truth, I have delayed too long in delivering it; besides, if mypresentiments do not greatly deceive me, my return must be anxiouslyexpected."
"Good! Speak, nobody will disturb you; we have all the time necessarybefore us."
"Oh, what I have to say to you will not take long; I only wish to askyou to lay a final hand to a work for which you have already striven?"
"What is it?"
"I wish to claim your help in the war of Texas against Mexico."
The young hunter frowned, and for some minutes remained silent.
"Will you refuse?" Tranquil asked, anxiously.
Loyal Heart shook his head.
"No," he said; "I merely feel a repugnance to mingle again with whitemen, and--shall I confess it? to fight against my countrymen."
"Your countrymen?"
"Yes, I am a Mexican, a native of Sonora."
"Oh!" the hunter said with an air of disappointment.
"Listen to me," Loyal Heart said, resolutely, "after all, it is better Ishould speak frankly to you; when you have heard me, you will judge andtell me what I ought to do."
"Good! Speak, my friend."
"You have, I think, been several times surprised at seeing a white man,like myself, dwelling with his mother and an old servant among an Indiantribe; you have asked yourself what reason could be powerful enough, orwhat crime was sufficiently great, to compel a man like myself, ofgentle manners, gifted with a pleasant exterior, and possessing somedegree of education, to seek a refuge among savages? This appeared toyou extraordinary. Well, my friend, the cause of my exile to theseremote regions was a crime I committed: on the self-same day I became anincendiary and an assassin."
"Oh!" Tranquil exclaimed, while the other hearers gave an incredulousglance; "you an incendiary and assassin, Loyal Heart! it is simplyimpossible."
"I was not Loyal Heart then," the hunter continued with a melancholysmile; "but it is true that I was only a lad, just fourteen years ofage. My father was a Spaniard of the old race, with whom honour was asacred inheritance, which he ever kept intact. He succeeded in saving mefrom the hands of the Juez de Letras, who had come to arrest me; andwhen the magistrate had left the house, my father assembled his tenants,formed a court, of which he constituted himself president, and tried me.My crime was evident, the proofs overwhelming, and my father himselfuttered my sentence in a firm voice: I was condemned to death."
"To death?" his hearers exclaimed, with a start of horror.
"To death!" Loyal Heart repeated. "The sentence was a just one. Neitherthe supplications of his servants, nor the tears nor entreaties of mymother, succeeded in obtaining a commutation of my punishment. My fatherwas inexorable, his resolution was formed, and he immediately proceededto execute the sentence. The death my father reserved for me was notthat vulgar death, whose sufferings endure a few seconds; no, he hadsaid that he had determined to punish me, and designed a long and cruelagony for me. Tearing me from the arms of mother, who was half faintingwith grief, he threw me across his saddle-bow, and started at a gallopin the direction of the desert.
"It was a long journey, for it lasted many hours ere my father checkedthe speed of his horse or uttered a syllable. I felt the tremblingsinews of the wearied horse give way under me; but still it went on atthe same rapid and dizzy speed. At length it stopped; my fatherdismounted, took me in his arms, and threw me on the ground. Within amoment, he removed the bandage that covered my eyes; I looked anxiouslyaround me, but it was night, and so dark that I could see nothing. Myfather regarded me for a moment with an indefinable expression, and thenspoke. Although many long years have elapsed since that terrible night,all the words of that address are still imprinted on my mind.
"'See,' he said to me in a quick voice, 'you are here more than twentyleagues from my hacienda, in which you will never set foot again, underpenalty of death. From this moment you are alone--you have neitherfather, mother, nor family. As you are a wild beast, I condemn you tolive with the wild beasts. My resolution is irrevocable, your entreatiescannot alter it, so spare me them.'
"Perhaps in the last sentence a hope was concealed; but I was no longerin a condition to see the road left open for me, for irritation andsuffering had exasperated me.
"'I do not implore you,' I replied; 'we do not offer entreaties to ahangman.'
"At this insulting outrage, my father started; but almost immediatelyafter every trace of emotion disappeared from his face, and hecontinued:
"'In this bag,' he said, to a rather large pouch thrown down by my side,'are provisions for two days; I leave you this rifle, which in my handsnever missed its mark; I give you also these pistols, this machete,knife, and axe, and gunpowder and bullets in these buffalo horns. Youwill find in the provision bag a flint and steel, and everythingnecessary for lighting a fire; I have also placed in it a Bible thatbelonged to your mother. You are dead to society, where you must neverreturn; the desert is before, and it belongs to you: for my part, I haveno longer a son--farewell! May the Lord have mercy on you! All isfinished between us on this earth; you are left alone and withoutfamily; you have a second existence to begin, and to provide for yourwants. Providence never abandons those who place their trust in it:henceforth it will watch over you.'
"After uttering these words coldly and distinctly, to which I listenedwith deep attention, my father cut with his knife the bonds that held mylimbs captive, and leaping info the saddle, started at a gallop withoutonce turning his head. I was alone, abandoned in the desert in the midstof the darkness, without hope or help from anywhere. A strangerevolution then took place in me, and I felt the full extent of thecrime I had committed; my heart broke at the thought of the solitude towhich I was condemned; I got up on my knees, watching the fatal outlinethat was constantly getting further from me, and listening to thehurried gallop of the horse with feverish anxiety. And then, when Icould hear no more, when all noise had died out in the distance, I felta furious grief wither my heart; my courage all at once abandoned me,and I was afraid; then, clasping my hands with an effort, I exclaimedtwice in a chocking voice:
"Oh, my mother--my mother!"
"Succumbing to terror and despair, I fell back on the sand and fainted."
There was a moment's silence. These men, though accustomed to theaffecting incidents of their rough life, felt moved to pity at thissimple and yet so striking recital. The hunter's mother and his oldservant had silently joined the hearers, while the dogs, lying at hisfeet licked his hands. The young man had let his head sink on his chest,and hid his face in his hands, for he was suffering from terribleemotion. No one dared to risk a word of consolation, and a mournfulsilence prev
ailed in the rancho; at length Loyal Heart raised his headagain.
"How long I thus remained unconscious," he continued in a broken voice,"I never knew; a feeling of coolness I suddenly experienced, made meopen my eyes; the abundant morning dew, by inundating my face, hadrecalled me to life. As I was frozen, my first care was to collect somedry branches, and light a fire to warm me; then I began reflecting.
"When a great suffering does not kill on the spot, a reactionimmediately takes place; courage and will resume their empire, and theheart is strengthened. In a few moments I regarded my position as lessdesperate. I was alone in the desert, it was true; but though still veryyoung, as I was hardly fourteen, I was tall and strong, gifted with afirm character like my father, extremely tenacious in my ideas and will;I had weapons, ammunition, and provisions, and my position was,therefore, far from being desperate; frequently when I had been stillliving at my father's hacienda, I had gone hunting with the tigrero andvaqueros of the house, and during these hunts had slept under the openair in the woods; I was now about to begin a fresh hunt, though thistime it would be much longer, and last for life. For a moment I had thethought of returning to the hacienda, and throwing myself at my father'sknees; but I knew his inflexible character, and feared beingignominiously expelled a second time. My pride revolted, and I repulsedthis thought, which was, perhaps, a divine inspiration.
"Still, being slightly comforted by the reflections I had just made, andcrushed by the poignant emotions of the last few hours, I at lengthyielded to sleep, that imperious need of lads of my age, and fell off,after throwing wood on the fire to make it last as long as possible. Thenight passed without any incident, and at daybreak I awoke. It was thefirst time I saw the sun rise in the desert, and the majestic and grandspectacle I now had before me filled me with admiration.
"This desert, which seemed to me so gloomy and desolate in the darkness,assumed an enchanting aspect in the dazzling sunbeams: the night hadtaken with it all its gloomy fancies. The morning breeze, and the sharpodours exhaled from the ground inflated my chest, and made me feelwondrously comforted; I fell on my knees, and with eyes and hands raisedto heaven, offered up an ardent prayer.
"This duty accomplished, I felt stronger, and rose with an infinitesense of confidence and hope in the future. I was young and strong;around me the birds twittered gaily, the deer and the antelopes boundedcarelessly across the savannah: that God, who protected these innocentand weak creatures, would not abandon me, I felt, if by a sincererepentance I rendered myself worthy of His protection, whose goodness isinfinite. After making a light meal, I put my weapons in my belt, threwmy bag on one shoulder, my rifle on the other, and after looking backfor the last time with a sigh of regret, I set out, murmuring the nameof my mother--that name which would henceforth be my sole talisman, andserve me in good as in evil fortune.
"My first march was long; for I proceeded toward a forest which I sawglistening in the horizon, and wished to reach before sunset. Nothinghurried me, but I wished at once to discover my strength, and know ofwhat I was capable. Two hours before nightfall I reached the spurs ofthe forest, and was soon lost in the ocean of the verdure. My father'stigrero, an old wood ranger, who had left his footmarks in everyAmerican desert, had told me during the long hunting nights we havespent together, many of his adventures on the prairies, thus giving me,though neither of us suspected it at the time, lessons which the momenthad now arrived for me to profit by.
"I formed my bivouac on the top of a hill, lit a large fire, and aftersupping with good appetite, said my prayer, and fell asleep. All at onceI woke up with a start: two rastreros were licking my hands with whinesof joy, while my mother and my old Eusebio were bending over andcarefully examining me, not knowing whether I were asleep or in afainting fit.
"'Heaven be praised!' my mother exclaimed, 'he is not dead.'
"I could not express the happiness that suddenly flooded my soul at thesight of my mother, whom I never hoped to see again in this world, at mypressing to her heart, and hanging round her neck, as if afraid shewould escape me again. I gave way to a feeling of immense joy; when ourtransports were somewhat calmed, my mother said to me--
"'And now, what do you intend doing? We shall return to the hacienda,shall we not? Oh! If you but knew how I suffered through your absence!'
"'Return to the hacienda?' I repeated.
"'Yes; your father, I am certain, will pardon you, if he has not done soalready in his heart.' And while saying this, my mother looked at meanxiously, and redoubled her caresses.
"I remained silent.
"'Why do you not answer me, my child?' she said to me.
"I made a violent effort over myself. 'Mother,' I at length answered,'the mere thought of a separation fills my heart with sorrow andbitterness. But before I inform you of my resolution, answer me franklyone thing.'
"'Speak, my child.'
"'Has my father sent you to me?'
"'No,' she answered, sorrowfully.
"'But, at any rate, you believe that he approves the step you are nowtaking?'
"'I do not believe--' she said, with even greater sorrow than before,for she foresaw what was about to happen.
"'Well, my mother,' I answered, 'God will judge me. My father has deniedme, he has abandoned me in the desert. I no longer exist for him, as hehimself told me--and I am dead to all the world. I will never set footin the hacienda again, unless God and my father forgive my crime--and Iam able to forgive myself. A new existence commences for me from today.Who can say whether the Deity, in permitting this great expiation, maynot have secret designs with me? His will be done,--my resolution isimmoveable.'
"My mother looked at me fixedly for a moment; she knew that once I hadcategorically expressed my will, I never recalled my words. Two tearssilently coursed down her pale cheeks. 'The will of God be done,' shesaid; 'we will remain, then, in the desert.'
"'What!' I exclaimed, with joyous surprise, 'Do you consent to remainwith me?'
"'Am I not thy mother?' she said, with an accent of ineffable kindness,as she pressed me madly to her heart."