The Pirates of the Prairies: Adventures in the American Desert

  CHAPTER XXV.

  THE TORTURE.

  The Apaches, who had been fastened for a long time to the stakes atwhich they would be tortured, regarded the terrible preparations fortheir atrocious punishment with a calm eye, and not a muscle quiveringin their stoical and indifferent faces. So great was their carelessness,or, at any rate, it appeared so, that you might have fancied that theywere merely about to figure as spectators in the gloomy tragedypreparing, although they were destined to play so terrible a part in it.

  So soon as Valentine left him, Unicorn ordered the torture to commence,but he suddenly altered his mind.

  "My sons," he said, addressing the Comanche warriors, and pointing toBlack Cat; "this man is a chief, and as such can claim an exceptionaldeath, in which he can prove to us his constancy and courage undersuffering. Send him to the happy hunting grounds in such a way that thewarriors of his nation whom he meets in another life may give him areception worthy of him. Tomorrow the old men and chiefs will assembleround the council fire, to invent a punishment meet for him. Take himfrom the stake."

  The Indians frenziedly applauded these words, which promised them soattractive a spectacle for the morrow.

  "The Comanches are boasting and cowardly women," Black Cat broke out;"they do not know how to torture warriors. I defy them to make me uttera groan, if the punishment lasted a whole day."

  "The Apache dogs can bark," Unicorn said coldly; "but if their tongue islong, their courage is short; tomorrow, Black Cat will weep like adaughter of the palefaces."

  Black Cat shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, and the Comanchesrepeated their frenzied applause.

  "Unfasten him," Unicorn commanded a second time.

  Several warriors approached the Apache chief, cut the cords that boundhim to the stake, and then secured his limbs and threw him at the footof a tree, Black Cat not deigning to make a sign evidencing theslightest irritation. After exchanging a glance with Valentine, Unicornplaced himself at the head of a band of warriors, who formed asemicircle round the prisoners. The chieftainess placed herselfopposite to him, with the women; the band struck up more noisily thanever, and the torture began.

  The squaws and warriors danced round the prisoners, and in passingbefore them, each, whether a man or woman, cut off a strip of flesh withlong, sharp scalping knives. In making these wounds, the Comanchesemployed the utmost precaution to prevent the knives running too deepinto the flesh, lest the victims should run the chance of dying at once,which would have unpleasantly modified the intention of the Indians, bydepriving them of a sight from which they promised themselves so muchpleasure.

  The Apaches smiled on their torturers, and excited them still more bytelling them that they did not know how to treat their prisoners; thattheir wounds were only so many mosquito stings; that the Apaches werefar more skilful; and that the many Comanche prisoners they had madeendured in their tribe much more atrocious sufferings.

  The unfortunate men were in a pitiable state: their bodies were only onewound, from which the blood streamed. The Comanches grew excited andrage seized upon them, on hearing the insults of their enemies. A womanrushed all at once on one of the prisoners whose words were thebitterest, and with her sharp and curved talons tore out his eyes, whichshe swallowed on the spot, saying to him--

  "Dog, you shall not see the sun again."

  "You have torn out my eyes, but left me my tongue," the prisonerreplied, with a smile rendered more hideous by the two empty andbleeding sockets. "'Twas I who devoured the quivering heart of your son,Running-water, when he entered my calli to steal horses. Do what youplease, I am revenged beforehand!"

  The woman, exasperated by this last insult, rushed upon him and buriedher knife in his heart. The Apache burst into a hoarse laugh, whichsuddenly changed into the death rattle, and fell a corpse while utteringthe words--

  "I said truly that you do not know how to torture your prisoners--dogs,rabbits, thieves!"

  The Comanches doubled their fury on the wretched victims, incessantlyhacking and stabbing them, and though the majority were dead already,they did not leave off till they had destroyed all appearance ofhumanity. The scalps were then raised, and the victims thrown into thefire prepared for them.

  The Comanches danced and howled round this fire until their voice andstrength failed them, and they fell exhausted, in spite of the drums andchichikouis. The men and women, stretched on the ground pell-mell, soonfell asleep, in that strange state of intoxication produced by the odourof the blood shed during this atrocious butchery.

  Valentine, despite the almost insurmountable disgust this scene hadoccasioned him, did not wish to retire, as he feared lest Black Catmight be massacred by the Comanches in a moment of mad fury. Thisprecaution was not vain: several times, had he not resolutelyinterfered, the Apache chief would also have been sacrificed to thehatred of his enemies, who had attained a paroxysm of fury impossible todescribe.

  When the camp was plunged in silence, and everybody asleep, Valentineproceeded cautiously in the direction where the Apache chief lay bound,who watched him come up with a very peculiar glance. Not saying a word,the hunter, after assuring himself that nobody was watching hismovements, cut all the cords that bound him. The Apache bounded like ajaguar, but fell back again on the ground; the cords had been tied sosecurely that they had entered into his flesh.

  "My brother must be prudent," the Frenchman said gently. "I wish to savehim."

  He then took his flask and poured a few drops of brandy on the pallidlips of the chief, who gradually recovered, and at length stood on hisfeet. Bending a searching glance on the man who so generously paid himattentions he was far from expecting, he asked in a hoarse voice--

  "Why does the pale hunter wish to save me?"

  "Because," Valentine answered, without hesitation, "my brother is agreat warrior in his nation, and must not die. He is free."

  And holding out his hand to the chief, he helped him to walk.The Indian followed him unresistingly, but without a word. On reachingthe spot where the horses of the tribe were picketed, Valentine selectedone, saddled it, and led it to the Apache, who, during the hunter'sshort absence, had remained motionless on the same spot.

  "My brother will mount," he said.

  The warrior was still so weak that Valentine was compelled to help himinto the saddle.

  "Can my brother keep on his horse?" he asked, with tender solicitude.

  "Yes," the Apache answered, laconically.

  The hunter took the gun, bow, and panther skin quiver of the chief whichhe handed to him, saying gently--

  "My brother will take back his arms. A great warrior as he is must notreturn to his tribe like a timid woman; he should be able to kill astag, if he met one on the road."

  The Indian seized the weapons; a convulsive tremor ran over his limbs,and joy gained the victory over Indian stoicism. This man, who had faceda horrible death without change of countenance, was conquered by theFrenchman's noble conduct; his granite heart was softened; a tear,doubtless the first he had ever shed, escaped from his fever parchedeyes, and a sob burst from his overcharged breast.

  "Thanks," he said, in a choking voice, so soon as words could find theirway to to his lips; "thanks, my brother is good, he has a friend."

  "My brother owes me nothing," the hunter replied, simply; "I act as myheart and my religion order me."

  The Indian remained pensive for a moment, then he muttered, shaking hishead dubiously:

  "Yes, I have heard that said before, by Father Seraphin, the Chief ofPrayer of the palefaces. Their God is omnipotent, He is before allmerciful; is not that a blessing?"

  "Remember, chief," Valentine quietly interrupted him, "that I save yourlife in the name of Father Seraphin, whom you seem to know."

  The Apache smiled softly.

  "Yes," he said, "these are his words, 'Requite good for evil.'"

  "Remember those divine precepts which I put in practice today,"Valentine exclaimed, "and they will support you in suffering."


  Black Cat shook his head.

  "No," he said, "the desert has its own laws, which are immutable; thered skins are of a different nature from the palefaces: their law is oneof blood, and they cannot alter it. Their law says: 'Eye for eye, andtooth for tooth.' The maxim is derived from their fathers, and they areobliged to submit to it, and follow it; but the redskins never forget aninsult or a kindness. Black Cat has a great memory."

  There was a silence of some minutes, during which the two men regardedeach other attentively. At length the Apache spoke again.

  "My brother will lend me his gourd."

  The hunter gave it to him; the Apache quickly raised it to his lips, andtook a mouthful. Then, bending down to Valentine, he placed his hands onhis shoulders, and kissed him on the lips, while allowing a portion ofthe fluid he held in his mouth to pass into the hunter's.

  On the prairies of the Far West this ceremony is a species of mysteriousinitiation, and the greatest mark of attachment one man can giveanother. When two men have embraced in this way, they are henceforthfriends, whom nothing can separate save death, and they help one anotherwithout hesitation under all circumstances.

  Valentine knew this, and hence, in spite of the disgust he internallyexperienced, he did not oppose the action of the Apache chief. On thecontrary, he yielded to it joyfully, comprehending the immenseadvantages he should, at a later date, derive from this indissolublealliance with one of the most influential Apache sachems, those alliesof Red Cedar, on whom he had sworn to take an exemplary revenge.

  "We are brothers," Black Cat said, gravely. "Henceforth, by day ornight, wherever the great pale hunter may direct his footsteps, a friendwill constantly watch over him."

  "We are brothers," the hunter replied; "Black Cat will ever find meready to come to his assistance."

  "I know it," said the warrior. "Farewell; I will return to the warriorsof my tribe."

  "Farewell," Valentine said.

  And vigorously lashing his horse, the Apache Chief started at fullspeed, and soon disappeared in the darkness. Valentine listened for amoment to the echo of his horse's hoofs on the hardened ground, and thenreturned thoughtfully to the calli, in which Ellen was nursing WhiteGazelle.