The Queen of the Savannah: A Story of the Mexican War

  CHAPTER XXX.

  ON THE TRAIL.

  Oliver Clary left Don Melchior's room in a very thoughtful state; thecount followed him, not venturing to address him, as he seemed sopreoccupied. On reaching the patio, where peons were holding two horsesfor them, the adventurer stopped, struck his forehead, and then turningto the count, said--

  "You cannot come with me."

  "Why not?" the count asked; "Where are you going?"

  "How do I know? That young man's calm and resigned grief crushes myheart, and I am going to seek some consolation for him at all hazards."

  "You are kind."

  "No, I have suffered. I know grief, and pity the unhappy; that is all.Remain here; you will not be of the slightest use to me in what I amabout to attempt; your presence, on the contrary, might be injurious tome and to yourself. You had better wait for me here. Watch that youngman carefully and show him the greatest kindness. Perhaps, on my returnI shall tell you more; I have a doubt on my mind which I am anxious toclear up. Heaven grant that I may meet the man in search of whom I amgoing. One word more: if I do not return at the hour settled, use yourinfluence over Don Melchior to keep him patient. Farewell, I am aboutto attempt impossibilities."

  And leaving the count amazed, and not at all understanding thesemysterious and apparently unconnected remarks, the adventurer leapt onhis horse, and galloped down the steep hill at the risk of breakinghis neck twenty times. So soon as he had crossed the stream and foundhimself in the open country, the Canadian checked his horse's pace,turned its head in the direction of the Rio Grande del Norte, and puton his considering cap.

  The worthy Canadian, with the reckless temerity characteristic ofthe wood rangers, had formed the plan of setting out in search of avillage or encampment of Indios bravos, as he felt convinced, afterwhat had occurred a few days previously, that there must be one in theneighbourhood. By joining the redskins he would have no difficulty,thanks to his thorough knowledge of Indian manners, in obtaininginformation about the fate of the ladies, which would enable himafterwards to attempt one of those daring strokes to which he wasaccustomed, and which had so often proved successful.

  The idea was good, but the execution offered extraordinarydifficulties. A trail is a very awkward thing to follow in a desert orin a savage country, where there are no other tracks but those made bywild beasts. Still, a good wood ranger, when he has once discoveredthe beginning of a trail, however confused it may be, always succeedsin reaching the other end. But the trail must exist, that is to say,some sign, however fugitive or slight, must warn the hunter in whatdirection the people he is pursuing have gone. But, under the presentcircumstances, that was not the Canadian's situation; the trail heproposed to follow he must, to a certain extent, invent, as he wasentering the desert without any settled purpose, and entirely trustingto chance, that great performer of miracles.

  The adventurer did not conceal from himself the difficulties of hisenterprise, hence, he tried, as far as possible, to get chance overto his side. When he had forded the river and found himself on Indianterritory, the hunter carefully inspected his weapons, in the probableevent of his being obliged to use them; then, after riding for about amile straight ahead, he threw the bridle on his horse's neck and letit follow its own impulses, and that infallible instinct which animalspossess, and which puts human reason to shame. After a few moments'hesitation, the noble animal shook its head several times, stretchedout its neck, and suddenly seeming to form a determination, startedin a direction exactly opposite to that which its master had hithertocompelled it to follow.

  "Good," the Canadian said, "I'll bet two jaguar skins to a muskrat'sthat we shall soon have some news."

  And he let his horse go on, contenting himself with carefullyexamining the thick scrub he passed and the tall grass through whichhe rode with great difficulty, in order not to let himself be attackedunawares by an invisible foe. It was about nine in the morning, thehour most pleasant for travelling in these torrid latitudes. For aboutan hour the Canadian thus advanced haphazard, when suddenly a bulletwhizzed past his ear.

  "Who is the clumsy scoundrel turning me into a target?" the huntersaid, coolly, as he halted and looked around; "Devil take the animalfor missing me so stupidly."

  A slight smoke, which rose a short distance off, from the grass,soon indicated to him the spot whence the shot was fired; withouthesitation, he dug his spurs into his horse's flanks, and dashed inthat direction, resolved to take a prompt revenge for this unfairattack. But almost immediately a hurried motion commenced in the tallgrass; it parted under the pressure of a vigorous hand, and an Indianappeared. It was Running Water, holding in his hand the gun he had justused, the barrel of which was still smoking.

  "Hang it, chief," the Canadian said gaily, "it must be confessed thatyou have a strange way of putting your question."

  "My brother must pardon me; it is not my fault," the Indian answered.

  "That you missed me," the Canadian interrupted him laughingly. "ByJove, I am convinced of that, for the bullet almost passed through myhair."

  "My brother will not understand me. I did not recognize him. Had I doneso, I should not have fired on the man to whom I owe my life."

  "Nonsense! On the prairie that is of no consequence, chief; but,excepting the rather rough way in which you bade me welcome, I amdelighted at having met you."

  "My brother is now the friend of a chief; he is in safety on ourhunting grounds."

  "So it seems," the adventurer replied mockingly.

  Running Water's face assumed an expression of sorrow.

  "My brother, then, will not pardon an unhappy mistake, at which he seeshis friend broken-hearted."

  "Come, come, chief, let us say no more about it; there was more noisethan hurt. I am glad to see you at liberty again, and, according toappearances, in good case. You have not taken long to procure weapons."

  "The chief is on his own territory," the Indian answered, with a flashof pride.

  "Very good, I admit that, although I fancy you venture rather close tothe Spanish border."

  "I am not alone."

  "That is probable. I do not wish to know the motives that bring you tothese parts; that is your business, although I suspect a hearty Indianrevenge behind it."

  An evil smile played round the chief's thin lips.

  "Vengeance is the virtue of the red men," he answered in a hollowvoice; "they never forget kindness and never pardon wrong."

  "I am aware of that, chief, and I cannot blame you, for every man actsaccording to his instincts."

  "Is my brother on the hunting trail?"

  "I am on no trail, chief, I am rambling about for amusement."

  Running Water gave a distrustful look, for Indians never allow thatanyone does anything without a motive.

  "Then my brother is not going anywhere?" he continued.

  "Indeed no, I am letting my horse guide me."

  "Wah! My brother is very merry."

  "It is the case, I assure you; and the proof is that so soon as I leaveyou I shall turn back."

  The Indian reflected for a moment.

  "Will my brother consent to smoke the calumet at the fire of a chief?"

  "I do not see any obstacle. Indian hospitality is great; and my ridehas given me an appetite which I shall not be sorry to appease."

  "Good; my brother will have no cause to complain of his friend. Let himfollow, and he will soon be able to satisfy his hunger."

  "Go on then, chief, and I will walk in your footsteps."

  The Indian turned away, and re-entered the tall grass, where the hunterfollowed him without hesitation. Their march lasted but a few minutes,and they reached the camp of the Comanches, which was so well concealedamong trees and bushes, that the Canadian might have passed close byand not noticed it. The Indians display extraordinary skill in thechoice of their temporary encampments on the prairie; the most skilfulhunter cannot compete with them in the cleverness with which they hidetheir presence, however large their numbers may
be. Hence the campwhich the Canadian now reached was composed of upwards of two hundredIndians, and yet nothing led him to suspect that he was so near them.

  A thing that greatly surprised the hunter was, that he noticed aconsiderable number of women and children in camp. The redskins rarelytravel with their families, unless they are going to change theirabode. The periods of these migrations is indicated beforehand, and theyear was not sufficiently advanced for the Comanches to leave theirwinter village, or dare to venture so near the Spanish border. Still,as a good diplomatist, the Canadian, in spite of the suspicions thatbegan to spring up in his mind, seemed to attach no importance to thisunusual circumstance, and did not make the slightest allusion to asubject which would doubtless arouse the distrust of his suspicioushosts.

  The reception which the Comanches gave him was most cordial; RunningWater especially, by all sorts of attentions, sought to make Claryforget the rather rough manner in which he had accosted him. Thelatter met the chief's advances halfway, and the most frank cordialitycontinued to preside over their chance meeting. When the breakfast,simple, like all Indian meals, and entirely composed of venison,was ended, the guests lit their pipes, and each began talking uponindifferent matters.

  Still the Canadian did not let out of sight the motive which had urgedhim to enter the prairie; and while smoking, he thought over the meansof quietly veering the conversation round to the point he desired,although he did not dare ask the chief any direct question, for he wasaware of his craft. The pretext which the hunter vainly sought, RunningWater very naturally supplied, in the following way. As usually happensbetween men accustomed to a desert life, the conversation graduallysettled upon hunting, an always interesting and inexhaustible subjectbetween Indians and wood rangers.

  "My brother knows that the moon of the wild oats will soon begin," saidthe chief, "and that it is the period when the buffalo chase is mostproductive."

  "I do," the Canadian replied.

  "Will my brother hunt the buffalo?"

  "I should like to do so, but unluckily I am very slightly acquaintedwith this country. The buffalo is an animal only found in herds, and asingle man could not hunt it advantageously. My companions have leftme, and I am alone, hence I shall be obliged to set traps during thecoming season."

  "A poor trade for a brave man," the chief remarked.

  "You are right, but what can I do? No man can be expected to performimpossibilities. I regret more than I can tell you the loss of thisseason; but I am compelled to put up with it."

  "The Comanches are the first hunters of the prairie," the chief saidwith emphasis; "the tribe of the Red Buffaloes is renowned; their totemis a buffalo."

  "I have heard the skill and courage of the warriors of your tribehighly spoken of, chief."

  The sachem smiled proudly.

  "The buffaloes are our cousins," he said; "when we hunt them they knowthat it is because we have need of their meat and skins, and they allowus to capture them in order to do us a service."

  The Canadian gave a silent nod of assent. He was aware of the redskinsuperstition, which makes them believe that each of their tribes isdescended from some animal, and he considered it unnecessary to open adiscussion, which could have no satisfactory result, on the point.

  The chief continued--

  "Why will not my brother the Sumach hunt in company with the RedBuffaloes?"

  The Canadian shook his head, although he felt great pleasure at thisunexpected overture, for the Indians are very jealous of their huntinggrounds, and the greatest proof of friendship they can give a man is tomake him such an offer.

  "For several reasons, chief," he answered; "my ammunition is nearlyexhausted, I must procure more, and the road is long to the first townwhere I can obtain good powder. Moreover, you seem to be travellingat this moment. Who knows whether I shall be able to find you on myreturn?"

  "Wah, my brother is a skilful paleface hunter; it is easy for him tofollow a friend's trail."

  "Yes, if it is not old, and a fresh one has not crossed it."

  Running Water reflected for a moment, during which the Canadiananxiously awaited the result of his meditation.

  "Let my brother listen," the sachem at last went on, "the hunt will notbegin till the ninth sun from this; that is more time than he requiresto fetch his powder and return."

  "I grant it."

  "Good! The Red Buffaloes are not travelling; they are going to a grandassembly of their nations to witness a sacrifice of prisoners."

  "Ah!" the hunter said with capitally feigned surprise, "I did not knowthat the Comanches had made an expedition against the Apache dogs?"

  "The Apaches are cowardly knaves," the chief answered; "they haveburied the hatchet so deep that they would be unable to find it, andlift it against the Comanches. The prisoners are palefaces."

  While uttering these words, the sachem fixed a searching glance on thehunter, but the latter did not blench.

  "That is of no concern of mine, chief," he replied carelessly,"especially if the prisoners are Spaniards."

  "My brother does not love the Spaniards?"

  "I should think not, the chief must remember the place where he met mea short time back."

  "That is true; my brother has not a deceitful tongue, he is the friendof the redskins."

  "I think I have proved that to you."

  "Good! Running Water is one of the first sachems of his nation, hisword is good; let my brother go and fetch his ammunition, he will findthe chief at the gathering place appointed for the tribe."

  "Very good, but where is it?"

  "All the hunters know it; it is the teocali of Zoltepec; will mybrother come?"

  "I will try, chief; but, as you know, men are subject to the will ofthe master of life. If I missed the appointment you so graciously makewith me, you must not be angry."

  "The chase will not begin before the eighth sun of the coming moon. Thechief will wait for his brother the Sumach until the second sun beforethe hunt."

  "Oh, in that case," the hunter answered, not wishing to press the pointfurther for fear of offending the chief, "you can count on me, I havemore time than I require to settle my affairs, and be punctual at themeeting."

  Matters thus arranged, the conversation took another turn. The Canadianremained for nearly an hour longer at the Comanche encampment, andthen took his leave; the sachem repeated his invitation, and the twomen separated, after many protestations of friendship, really wellsatisfied with each other. Running Water was delighted at having foundan opportunity to pay the debt of gratitude he had contracted with theman who saved his life. As for the hunter, he was still better pleased,for he believed that he had obtained positive information as to thespot where the two unhappy captives were and the fate reserved forthem. After leaving the Comanches, the Canadian started at a gallop forthe hacienda, which he reached an hour before the time he had himselfconsidered as the probable duration of his absence. The count, andespecially Don Melchior, were awaiting his return impatiently. Clary,without loss of time, informed them of what he had done, and told themin the fullest details all he had picked up from Running Water.

  "Now," he said, in conclusion, "I believe we have no other alternativethan to return to our old plan; it is the wisest, and only one thatoffers a chance of success. Moonshine, with a dozen of his comrades,will get on the trail of the Indians, and--"

  "But you?" the count interrupted.

  "I have contracted obligations to the chief of the Red Buffaloes, whichprevent my doing anything against them."

  "That is true," the count remarked.

  "So," the hunter added, "remain here, Don Melchior; within two daysyou will have a reinforcement enabling you to attempt the deliveranceof the two most unhappy ladies; by acting otherwise you will only ruinyourself and them."

  "Thanks," the young man replied, in a hollow voice, and burying hishead in his hands, he took no further part in the conversation. An hourlater the count and the hunter mounted, and started in the direction ofthe Haciend
a del Barrio.

  "The poor boy is very sad," the count remarked.

  "I am afraid he will commit some folly," the hunter replied, with ashake of the head.