CHAPTER II.
THE AMBUSCADE.
We said at the close of the "Trail-Hunter," that another band enteredthe desert at the heels of the troop commanded by Red Cedar. This band,guided by Valentine Guillois, was composed of Curumilla, General Ibanez,Don Miguel Zarate, and his son. These men were not seeking a placer, butvengeance.
On reaching the Indian territory, the Frenchman looked inquiringly roundhim, and stopping his horse, turned to Don Miguel.
"Before going further," he said, "I think we had better hold a council,and settle a plan of campaign from which we will not deviate."
"My friend," the hacendero answered "you know that all our hopes reston you: act, therefore, as you think advisable."
"Good," Valentine said; "this is the hour when the heat compels allliving creatures in the desert to seek shelter under the shade of thetrees, so we will halt; the spot where we now are is admirably suitedfor a day's bivouac."
"Be it so," the hacendero answered laconically.
The horsemen dismounted, and removed their horses' bits, so that thepoor creatures might obtain a little nourishment by nibbling the scantyand parched grass which grew on this ungrateful soil. The spot wasreally admirably chosen: it was a large clearing traversed by one ofthose many nameless streams which intersect the prairie in everydirection, and which, after a course of a few miles, go to swell therivers in which they are lost. A dense dome of foliage offered thetravellers an indispensable shelter against the burning beams of avertical sun. Although it was about midday, the air in the clearing,refreshed by the exhalations of the stream, invited them to enjoy thatday sleep so well called the siesta.
But the travellers had something more serious to attend to than sleep.As soon as all the precautions were taken against any possible attack,Valentine sat down at the foot of a tree, making his friends a sign tojoin him. The three whites immediately acquiesced, while Curumilla,according to his wont, went rifle in hand to the skirt of the clearing,to watch over the safety of all. After a few moments' reflection,Valentine took the word:
"Caballeros," he said, "the moment has arrived for a frank explanation:we are at present on the enemy's territory; the desert extends for morethan two thousand miles around us. We shall have to fight not only withthe white men or redskins we meet on our road, but also contend withhunger, thirst, and wild beasts of every description. Do not try to givemy words any other meaning than that I myself attach to them. You haveknown me a long time, Don Miguel, and the friendship I have vowed toyou."
"I know it, and thank you," Don Miguel said, gratefully.
"In short," Valentine continued, "no obstacle, of whatever nature it maybe, will be powerful enough to check me in the mission I have undertaken."
"I am convinced of it, my friend."
"Good, but I am an old wood ranger; desert life, with its privations andperils, is perfectly familiar to me; the trail I am about to follow willonly be child's play to me and the brave Indian, my companion."
"What are you coming to?" Don Miguel interrupted him anxiously.
"To this," the hunter frankly answered. "You caballeros, accustomed to alife of luxury and ease, will perchance not be able to endure the rudeexistence to which you are about to be condemned: in the first moment ofgrief you bravely rushed, without reflecting, in pursuit of theravishers of your daughter, and without calculating the consequences ofyour deed."
"That is true," Don Miguel murmured.
"It is, therefore, my duty," Valentine went on, "to warn you: do not beafraid to withdraw; but be frank with me as I am with you: Curumilla andmyself will suffice to carry out the task we have undertaken. TheMexican frontier stretches out about ten miles behind you; return to it,and leave to us the care of restoring your child to you, if you do notfeel capable of braving, without giving way, the innumerable dangersthat menace us. A sick man, by delaying our pursuit, would not onlyrender it impossible for us to succeed, but might expose us all to therisk of being killed and scalped. Hence, reflect seriously, my friend,and putting away any question of self-esteem, give me an answer thatallows me full liberty of action."
During this species of sermon, whose justice he recognised in his heart,Don Miguel had remained with his head bowed on his chest, and withfrowning eyebrows. When Valentine ceased, the hacendero drew himself upand took the hunter's hand, which he pressed warmly, as he said--
"My friend, what you have said to me it was your duty to say: yourremarks do not at all offend me, because they were dictated by thefriendship you bear me. The observations you have made to me, I hadalready made to myself; but, whatever may happen, my resolution isimmovable. I shall not turn back till I have found my daughter again."
"I knew that such would be your reply, Don Miguel," the hunter said. "Afather cannot consent to abandon his daughter in the hands of bandits,without attempting all means to deliver her; still, it was my duty tomake the remark I did. Hence we will not speak about it again, butprepare on the spot to draw up our plans of action."
"Oh, oh," the general said, with a laugh, "I am anxious to hear that."
"You will excuse me, general," Valentine answered; "but the war we carryon is completely different from that of civilised people; in the desertcraft alone can triumph."
"Well, let us be crafty: I ask nothing better, especially as, with theslight forces we have at our disposal, I do not see how we could actotherwise."
"That is true," the hunter continued, "There are only five of us; but,believe me, five determined men are more dangerous than might besupposed, and I soon hope to prove it to our enemies."
"Well spoken, friend," Don Miguel said, gladly. "_Cuerpo de Dios_, thoseaccursed Gringos shall soon realise that fact."
"We have," Valentine continued, "allies who will second us valiantlywhen the moment arrives: the Comanche nation proudly calls itself the'Queen of the Prairies,' and its warriors are terrible enemies. Unicornwill not fail us, with his tribe; and we have also a friend in theenemy's camp in the Chief of the Coras."
"What are you saying?" the General gaily remarked. "Why, our success isinsured."
Valentine shook his head.
"No," he said; "Red Cedar has allies too: the Pirates of the Prairiesand the Apaches will join him, I feel convinced."
"Perhaps so," Don Miguel observed.
"Doubt is not admissible under the circumstances; the scalp hunter istoo well used to a desert life not to try and get all the chances ofsuccess on his side."
"But, if that happen, it will be a general war," the hacendero said.
"Doubtless," Valentine continued; "that is what I wish to arrive at. Twodays' march from where we now are there is a Navajo village; I have donesome slight services to Yellow Wolf, the principal chief; we mustproceed to him before Red Cedar attempts to see him, and insure hisalliance at all risks. The Navajos are prudent and courageous warriors."
"Do you not fear the consequences of this delay?"
"Once for all, caballeros," Valentine answered, "remember that in thecountry where we now are the straight line is ever the longest."
The three men bowed resignedly.
"Yellow Wolf's alliance is indispensable to us: with his support it willbe easy for us to--"
The sudden appearance of Curumilla interrupted the hunter."What is the matter now?" he asked him.
"Listen!" the chief answered laconically.
The four men anxiously stopped talking.
"By Heavens!" Valentine said, as he hurriedly arose, "What is the matterhere?"
And, followed by his comrades, he stepped into the thicket. TheMexicans, whose senses were dulled, had heard nothing at the firstmoment; but the noise which had struck the hunter's practised ear nowreached them. It was the furious galloping of several horses, whosehoofs re-echoed on the ground with a noise resembling that of thunder.Suddenly, ferocious yells were heard, mingled with shots.
The five travellers, hidden behind trees, peered out, and soon noticed aman mounted on a horse lathered with foam, who was pursued by so
methirty mounted Indians.
"To horse!" Valentine commanded in a low voice. "We cannot let this manbe assassinated."
"Hem!" the general muttered, "We are playing a dangerous game, for theyare numerous."
"Do you not see that the man is of our own colour?" Valentine went on.
"That is true," said Don Miguel. "Whatever happens, we must not allowhim to be massacred in cold blood by those ferocious Indians."
In the meanwhile, the pursuers and pursued had come nearer the spotwhere the hunters were ambushed behind the trees. The man the Indianswere so obstinately following drew himself up haughtily in his saddle,and, while galloping at full speed, turned from time to time to fire hisrifle into the thick of his enemies. At each discharge a warrior fell;his comrades then uttered fearful yells, and answered by a shower ofarrows and bullets. But the stranger shook his head disdainfully, andcontinued his career.
"_Caspita!_" the general said with admiration; "That is a brave fellow."
"On my soul," Don Pablo exclaimed, "it would be a pity to see himkilled."
"We must save him," Don Miguel could not refrain from saying.
Valentine smiled gently.
"I will try it," he said. "To horse!"
Each leaped into the saddle.
"Now," Valentine continued, "remain invisible behind the shrubs. TheseIndians are Apaches; when they come within range, you will all firewithout showing yourselves."
Each set his rifle, and held in readiness. There was a moment of supremeexpectation, and the hunters' hearts beat violently.
The Indians still approached, bowed over the necks of their pantingsteeds, brandishing their weapons furiously, and uttering at intervalstheir formidable war cry. They came up at headlong speed, preceded aboutone hundred yards by the man they were pursuing, whom they must sooncatch up, for his wearied horse stumbled continually, and was sensiblydiminishing its speed.
At length the stranger passed with lightning speed the thicket whichconcealed those who were about to try a diversion in his favour, thatmight ruin them.
"Attention," Valentine commanded in a low voice. The rifles were loweredon the Apaches.
"Aim carefully," the Trail-hunter added. "Every bullet must, kill itsman."
A minute elapsed--a minute an age in length.
"Fire!" the hunter suddenly shouted; "Fire now."
Five shots were discharged, and the same number of Apaches fell.