CHAPTER XXIII.
APACHES AND COMANCHES.
At daybreak some forty horsemen, at whose head rode Bloodson, DonMiguel Zarate, and General Ibanez, started in the direction of theComanche village, guided by Unicorn. In the midst of the band rodeEllen, closely watched, and Harry, who would not leave her for a moment,galloped by her side.
The maiden had guessed, in spite of the attentions offered her, orperhaps through them, that she was regarded rather as a prisoner than afriend by the men who surrounded her. Hence, on leaving the Teocali, shehad given Harry a suppliant glance to remain by her side. The hunter hadunderstood this glance, and, in spite of all that Bloodson urged toinduce him to ride with him at the head of the party, he obstinatelyremained by Ellen's side.
By a strange coincidence, at the very moment when the partisans, guidedby Unicorn, were leaving the Teocali to go in search of news of theirfriends at the Comanche village, the latter were executing theirmiraculous flight, had left the islet on which they had defendedthemselves so bravely, and, after boldly crossing the Apache camp, werealso proceeding, though by a different route, to the same village.
The march of a numerous party in the desert is generally less rapid thanthat of a few men, and it is easy of explanation. Two or three menproceeding together pass without difficulty anywhere, gliding throughthe chaparral, and following the track of wild beasts; but some fortypersons compelled to adopt the Indian file, that is to say, march oneafter the other, along these problematical paths, scarce wide enough forone horseman, are constrained to cheek their pace, and advance withextreme precaution, especially on an expedition of the sort thepartisans were now undertaking.
Hence, in spite of all the diligence they displayed, they advanced butslowly. The ruddy disc of the sun was rapidly descending on the horizon,the shadow of the lofty trees was lengthening more and more, the eveningbreeze was beginning to sough through the virgin forest, which extendedfor an enormous distance on the right of the travellers, while on theriverbank the alligators were clumsily leaving the bed of mud in whichthey had been slothfully wallowing, and were regaining the deep watersof the Gila.
The horses and riders, harassed by the fatigues of a long journey, wereslowly dragging along, when Unicorn, who was about one hundred yardsahead, suddenly turned back and rejoined his comrades, who at oncehalted.
"What is the matter?" Bloodson asked, so soon as the chief found him;"Has my brother seen anything that alarms him?"
"Yes," the Indian laconically replied.
"I am waiting for my brother to explain."
"The desert is not quiet," the chief went on in a grave voice; "thevultures and white-headed eagles are flying in long circles, the deerand buffaloes are restless, the asshatas are bounding in everydirection, and the antelopes flying with all the speed of their limbsnorthward."
Bloodson frowned and waited a moment ere he replied. The Mexicansexamined him anxiously, but at length he raised his head.
"What do you conclude from these signs?"
"This: the Apaches are crossing the prairie; they are numerous, for thedesert is disturbed for a very considerable extent."
"Why the Apaches sooner than others?" Bloodson answered. "Cannot woodrangers have produced the excitement you have noticed, as well as theIndians?"
The Comanche warrior shook his head in contradiction.
"They are Apaches," he said, peremptorily. "This is not the season ofthe great hunts, the animals are not troubled by man at this period ofthe year. They know it, and do not desperately fly from him, as they arecertain of not being pursued. The wood rangers march alone, or onlythree or four together, employing precautions not to startle the game.But the Apaches are ignorant dogs, who, like the coyotes they resemble,continually assemble in large parties, and, instead of marching like menor warriors, pass like a hurricane over the prairie, burning,destroying, and devastating everything in their passage."
"That is true," Bloodson muttered; "your sagacity has not deceived you,chief; only the Apaches can be near here."
"Good; and what will my brother do?" the Comanche asked.
The stranger's eye flashed fire.
"We will fight them," he said.
The Indian gave an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders.
"No," he said; "that is no good; we must not fight at this moment."
"Speak then, in the devil's name," the stranger exclaimed, impatiently,"and explain your plan to us."
The Indian smiled.
"My brother is quick," he said.
Bloodson, ashamed of having given way to his temper, had alreadyregained his coolness.
"Pardon me, chief; I was wrong."
And he held out his hand, which Unicorn took and pressed warmly.
"My brother is wise," he replied; "I know that he did not wish to insulta friend."
"Speak, chief; time is slipping away; explain your plan to me."
"Behind that hill is Unicorn's village; the warriors will remain herewhile he advances alone, in order to know what is going on."
"Good; my brother can go; we will wait."
In the desert, long conversations are not the fashion; moments are tooprecious to be lost in words. The Indian set spurs to his horse and wentoff, and he soon disappeared from their sight.
"What do you think of what the chief has just told us?" the generalasked.
"It is very serious," the stranger answered. "The Indians have anextraordinary skill for discovering what goes on in the desert--theyhave an infallible instinct which never deceives them. This man is oneof the most intelligent I know. I am only acquainted with two men in theworld capable of contending with him--that frightful scoundrel, RedCedar, and Don Valentine, that French hunter whom the Indians themselveshave surnamed the Trail-Hunter."
"Ah!" Don Miguel said, "Then your opinion is--"
"That we must await the result of the step Unicorn is taking at thismoment; his village is only an hour's march at the most from the spotwhere we now are."
"But, in that case, why stop us?"
"An Indian never returns home till he has assured himself that all is inorder. Who can foresee what has happened during his absence?"
"That is true; let us wait, then," the hacendero said, stifling a sigh.
Nearly an hour passed thus. All the partisans seated on their horses,with their finger on the trigger of their rifle, remained motionless asbronze statues. In the meanwhile the sun had set in a mist of vapour, theshadow spread gradually over the desert like a thick winding sheet, andthe stars were slowly lit up in the dark blue sky. Still Unicorn did notreturn.
The hunters did not exchange a word; each, persuaded in his heart thatthe position was a serious one, was reflecting deeply. Not a sound wasaudible, save the hoarse and continuous rustling of the Rio Gila overthe pebbles and rocks that border its banks.
Suddenly, Bloodson, whose eye had been obstinately fixed in thedirection where the Comanche Chief had disappeared, gave a slight startand whispered in Don Miguel's ear:
"Here he is."
In fact, the gallop of a horse was heard gradually drawing nearer tillthe chief reappeared.
"Well?" the stranger shouted to him.
"Koutonepi and the pale virgin are in the village," he said; "the hunterhas delivered the maiden."
"May Heaven be praised!" Don Miguel said, fervently.
Unicorn looked at him sadly.
"The Apaches are pursuing them," he added; "at this moment the villageis being attacked, but our friends defend themselves bravely."
"Let us fly to their help," the Mexicans shouted.
Bloodson turned to them.
"Patience," he said; "let the chief explain."
"My pale brother," the Comanche continued, "with one-half of thewarriors, will turn the hill and enter the village by the north, whileI, with the other half, will enter by the south."
"Good," said Bloodson; "but we are far off yet; perhaps our friends willbe unable to hold out till our arrival."
Unico
rn smiled scornfully.
"The Apaches are cowardly dogs," he said. "The Comanches will defendthemselves: they know not flight."
Without replying, the partisan divided his band, taking the command ofone party, and entrusting the other to the Comanche warrior. All thesemen were Indians, long habituated to a war of ambushes and surprises:this bold stroke was a Godsend to them: with flashing eyes and quiveringlips, though apparently unmoved, they impatiently awaited the signal fordeparture.
"Let us go," Bloodson vociferated, brandishing his rifle over his head.
All bent over their horses manes and started forward. On reaching thefoot of the hill one band went to the right, the other to the left,Ellen remaining behind, under the guard of a few warriors and theCanadian hunter, who would not leave her. This little band moved forwardgently as a rearguard.
In the meanwhile, the partisans reached the village at headlong speed;and it was high time for them to arrive, for the huts, enveloped inflames, resembled a volcano. By the gleam of the fire, shadows could beseen darting hither and thither; and shouts of pain and rage, mingledwith the discharge of firearms, incessantly rose from this burning mass.
The partisans rushed into this horrible furnace, uttering their war yelland brandishing their arms, and the medley became frightful. TheApaches, thus attacked on two sides simultaneously, underwent amomentary stupor, which soon changed into a panic and utter rout, at thesight of these new opponents, who seemed to rise from the ground tocrush them, and change their triumph into a defeat.
But flight was not easy. The entire population of the village was underarms: women and children, electrified by their example, and joining thewarriors, rushed madly on the Apaches, who, seeing their surprisefoiled, only tried to reach the open country again.
For a quarter of an hour the massacre was fearful. At length theApaches, led by Stanapat and Black Cat, who vainly performed prodigiesof valour in order to restore the chances of the fight, succeeded inclearing a gap through their enemies, and rushed in every direction,closely followed by the Comanches, who felled them with their war clubsand pitilessly scalped them.
Only one band still resisted.
Leaning against the palisades, which they had not yet found time tocross, the pirates, bearing in their midst the body of their belovedGazelle, had recoiled inch by inch before the enemies who enveloped themon all sides, dashing forward every now and then, and compelling theirfoes to give ground in their turn.
But the struggle was too unequal, and a long resistance soon becameimpossible. The pirates, skilfully profiting by a moment of disorder,started to fly each in a different direction, hoping to escape moreeasily in this way. Sandoval had taken on his robust shoulders the bodyof the girl, and with an extraordinary effort, which despair alone madesuccessful, had leaped out on the plain, where he hoped to concealhimself in the grass.
He would have probably succeeded in this, but he had to do with fourmen, who seemed to have made up their minds to hunt him down. At themoment he drew himself up after his leap, Valentine and his comradesthrew themselves upon him, without giving him time to defend himself,and, in spite of his desperate resistance and furious yells, tied himsecurely.
The old pirate, on finding himself a prisoner, let his head sink on hischest, and giving a sad glance at the girl he had been unable to save,he gave vent to a deep sigh, and a burning tear silently coursed downhis furrowed cheeks. At the same moment Ellen entered the village, inthe middle of her escort: on seeing her, Valentine started.
"Oh!" he muttered; "Where is Dona Clara?"
"My daughter, my daughter!" the hacendero exclaimed, suddenly appearingbefore the hunter, with his clothes disordered and his brow pale withfear. The unhappy father, since he had entered the village, had onlyattended to one thing--seeking his daughter.
Followed step by step by the general, he entered the thickest of thefight, asking after his daughter of all those he met, thrusting asidethe weapons that menaced him, and not thinking of the death which atevery moment rose before him, under every shape. Protected, as it were,by an invisible talisman, he had traversed the whole village and enteredevery hut the fire had spared, Seeing nothing, hearing nothing, havingonly one object--that of finding his child. Alas! His search had beenin vain.
Dona Clara had disappeared: although Valentine had intrusted her toShaw, no one knew what had become of her. The hacendero fell into hisfriend's arms, and burst into heartrending sobs.
"My daughter," he groaned. "Valentine, restore my daughter to me!"
The hunter pressed him to his manly breast.
"Courage, poor father," he said to him. "Courage!"
But the hacendero no longer heard him; grief had at length overpoweredhim, and he fainted away.
"Oh!" Valentine said, "Red Cedar, you viper, shall I never succeed inputting my heel on your chest!"
Aided by the general and Don Pablo, he carried Don Miguel to themedicine lodge, which the flames had not reached, and laid him a bed ofdry leaves.