CHAPTER IX.
THE PHANTOM.
It was about eight o'clock in the morning, a cheering autumn sun lit upthe prairie splendidly.
Birds flew hither and thither, uttering strange cries, whilst others,concealed under the thickest of the foliage, poured forth melodiousconcerts. Now and then a deer raised its timid head above the tallgrass, and then disappeared with a bound.
Two horsemen, clothed in the costume of wood rangers, mounted uponmagnificent half wild horses, were following, at a brisk trot, theleft bank of the great Canadian river, whilst several bloodhounds,with glossy black skins, and eyes and chests stained with red, ran andgambolled around them.
These horsemen were Loyal Heart and his friend Belhumeur.
Contrary to his usual deportment, Loyal Heart seemed affected by themost lively joy, his countenance beamed with cheerfulness, and he lookedaround him with complacency. Sometimes he would stop, and looked outahead, appearing anxiously to seek in the horizon some object he couldnot yet discern. Then, with an expression of vexation, he resumed hisjourney, to repeat a hundred paces further on the same manoeuvre.
"Ah, parbleu!" said Belhumeur, laughing, "we shall get there in goodtime. Be quiet, do!"
"Eh, _caramba!_ I know that well enough; but I long to be there! Forme, the only hours of happiness that God grants me, are passed with herwhom we are going to see--my mother, my beloved mother! who gave upeverything for me, abandoned all without regret, without hesitation.Oh, what happiness it is to have a mother! to possess one heart whichunderstands yours, which makes a complete abnegation of self to absorbitself in you; which lives in your existence, rejoices in your joys,sorrows in your sorrows; which divides your life into two parts,reserving to itself the heaviest and leaving you the lightest and themost easy! Oh, Belhumeur, to comprehend what that divine being is,composed of devotedness and love, and called a mother, it is necessaryto have been, as I was, deprived of her for long years, and thensuddenly to have found her again, more loving, more adorable than ever!How slowly we get on! Every moment of delay is a kiss of my mother'swhich time steals from me! Shall we never get there?"
"Well! here we are at the ford."
"I don't know why, but a secret fear has suddenly fallen upon myspirits, an undefinable presentiment makes me tremble in spite ofmyself."
"Oh, nonsense! Send such black thoughts to the winds; in a few minutes,we shall be with your mother!"
"That is true! And yet I don't know whether I am mistaken, but it seemsto me as if the country does not wear its usual aspect; this silencewhich reigns around us, and this solitude which environs us, do notappear to be natural. We are close to the village, we ought already tohear the barking of the dogs, the crowing of the cocks, and the thousandnoises that proclaim inhabited places."
"Well," said Belhumeur, with vague uneasiness, "I must confess thateverything seems strangely silent around us."
The travellers came to a spot where the river makes a sharp curve;being deeply embanked, and skirted by immense blocks of rock and thickcopsewood, it did not allow any extensive view.
The village towards which the travellers were directing their course,was scarcely a gunshot from the ford where they were preparing to crossthe river, but it was completely invisible, owing to the peculiar natureof the country.
At the moment the horses placed their feet in the water, they made asudden movement backwards, and the bloodhounds uttered one of thoseplaintive howlings peculiar to their race, which freeze the bravest manwith terror.
"What does this mean?" Loyal Heart exclaimed, turning pale as death, andcasting round a terrified glance.
"Look here!" replied Belhumeur, pointing with his finger to several deadbodies which the river was carrying away, and which glided along nearthe surface.
"Oh!" cried Loyal Heart, "something terrible has taken place here. Mymother! my mother!"
"Do not alarm yourself so," said Belhumeur; "no doubt she is in safety."
Without listening to the consolations his friend poured out, though hedid not believe in them himself Loyal Heart drove the spurs into hishorse's flanks, and sprang into the water.
They soon gained the opposite bank, and there all was explained.
They had before them the most awful scene that can possibly be imagined.
The village and the fort were a heap of ruins.
A black, thick, sickening smoke ascended in long wreaths towards theheavens.
In the centre of what had been the village, arose a mast against whichwere nailed human fragments, for which _urubus_ were contending withloud cries.
Here and there lay bodies half devoured by wild beasts.
No living being appeared.
Nothing remained intact--everything was either broken, displaced, oroverthrown. It was evident, at the first glance, that the Indians hadpassed there, with their sanguinary rage and their inveterate hatred ofthe whites. Their steps were deeply imprinted in letters of fire andblood.
"Oh!" the hunter cried shuddering, "my presentiments were a warningfrom Heaven;--my mother! my mother!"
Loyal Heart fell upon the ground in utter despair; he concealed his facein his hands and wept.
The grief of this high-spirited man, endowed with a courage proofagainst all trials, and whom no danger could surprise, was like that ofthe lion, it had something terrific in it.
His sobs were like roarings, they rent his breast.
Belhumeur respected the grief of his friend--indeed what consolationcould he offer him? It was better to allow his tears to flow, and givethe first paroxysm of despair time to calm itself; certain that hisunyielding nature could not long be cast down, and that a reaction wouldsoon come, which would permit him to act.
Still, with that instinct innate to hunters, he began to look about onall sides, in the hope of finding some indication which might afterwardsserve to direct their researches.
After wandering for a long time about the ruins, he was suddenlyattracted towards a large bush at a little distance from him by barkingswhich he thought he recognised.
He advanced towards it precipitately; a bloodhound like their own jumpedup joyfully upon him, and covered him with wild caresses.
"Oh, oh!" said the hunter, "what does this mean? Who has tied poor Trimup in this fashion?"
He cut the rope which fastened the animal, and, in doing so, perceivedthat a piece of carefully folded paper was tied to its neck.
He seized it, and running to Loyal Heart, exclaimed:
"Brother! brother! Hope! Hope!"
The hunter knew his brother was not a man to waste vulgar consolationsupon him; he raised his tear-bathed face towards him.
As soon as it was free, the dog fled away with incredible velocity,baying with the dull, short yelps of a bloodhound following the scent.
Belhumeur, who had foreseen this flight, had hastened to tie his cravatround the animal's neck.
"No one knows what it may lead to," murmured the hunter, on seeing thedog disappear.
And after this philosophical reflection he went to join his friend.
"What is the matter?" Loyal Heart asked.
"Read!" Belhumeur quietly replied.
The hunter seized the paper, which he read eagerly. It contained onlythese few words:--
"We are prisoners of the redskins. Courage! Nothing of any significancehas happened to your mother."
"God be praised!" said Loyal Heart with great emotion, kissing thepaper, which he concealed in his breast. "My mother still lives! Oh, Ishall find her again!"
"Pardieu! that you will," said Belhumeur in a tone of conviction.
A complete change, as if by enchantment, had taken place in the mindof the hunter; he drew himself up to his full height, his brow becameexpanded and clear.
"Let us commence our researches," he said; "perhaps one of theunfortunate inhabitants has escaped death, and we may learn from himwhat has taken place."
"That's well," said Belhumeur joyfully; "that's the way. Let us search."
&n
bsp; The dogs were scratching with fury among the ruins of the fort.
"Let us commence there," said Loyal Heart.
Both set to work to clear away the rubbish. They worked with an ardourincomprehensible to themselves. At the end of twenty minutes theydiscovered a sort of trapdoor, and heard weak and inarticulate criesarise from beneath it.
"They are here," said Belhumeur.
"God grant we may be in time to save them."
It was not till after a length of time, and with infinite trouble,that they succeeded in raising the trap, and then a horrid spectaclepresented itself.
In a cellar exhaling a fetid odour, a score of individuals wereliterally piled up one upon another.
The hunters could not repress a movement of terror, and drew back inspite of themselves; but they immediately--returned to the edge of thecellar, to endeavour, if there were yet time, to save some of thoseunhappy victims.
Of all these men, one alone showed signs of life; all the rest were dead.
They dragged him out, laid him gently on a heap of dry leaves, and gavehim every assistance in their power.
The dogs licked the hands and face of the wounded man.
At the end of a few minutes the man made a slight movement, opened hiseyes several times, and then breathed a profound sigh.
Belhumeur introduced between his clenched teeth the mouth of a leathernbottle filled with rum, and obliged him to swallow a few drops of theliquor.
"He is very bad," said the hunter.
"He is past recovery," Loyal Heart replied, shaking his head.
Nevertheless the wounded man revived a little.
"My God," said he, in a weak and broken voice, "I am dying! I feel I amdying!"
"Hope!" said Belhumeur, kindly.
A fugitive tinge passed across the pale cheeks of the wounded man, and asad smile curled the corners of his lips.
"Why should I live?" he murmured. "The Indians have massacred all mycompanions, after having horribly mutilated them. Life would be tooheavy a burden for me."
"If, before you die, you wish anything to be done that is in our powerto do, speak, and by the word of hunters, we will do it."
The eyes of the dying man flashed faintly.
"Your gourd," he said to Belhumeur.
The latter gave it to him, and he drank greedily. His brow was coveredwith a moist perspiration, and a feverish redness inflamed hiscountenance, which assumed a frightful expression.
"Listen," said he, in a hoarse and broken voice. "I was commander here;the Indians, aided by a wretched half-breed, who sold us to them,surprised the village."
"The name of that man?" the hunter said, eagerly.
"He is dead--I killed him!" the captain replied, with an inexpressibleaccent of hatred and joy. "The Indians endeavoured to gain possessionof the fort; the contest was terrible. We were twelve men against fourhundred savages; what could we do? Fight to the death--that was what weresolved on doing. The Indians, finding the impossibility of taking usalive, cast the colonists of the village in among us, after cutting offtheir hands and scalping them, and then set fire to the fort."
The wounded man, whose voice grew weaker and weaker, and whose wordswere becoming unintelligible, swallowed a few more drops of the liquor,and then continued his recital, which was eagerly listened to by thehunters.
"A cave, which served as a cellar, extended under the ditches of thefort. When I knew that all means of safety had escaped, and that flightwas impossible, I led my unfortunate companions into this cave, hopingthat God would permit us to be thus saved. A few minutes after, the fortfell down over us! No one can imagine the tortures we have suffered inthis infected hole, without air or light. The cries of the wounded--andwe were all so, more or less--screaming for water, and the rattle ofthe dying, formed a terrible concert that no pen can describe. Oursufferings, already intolerable, were further increased by the want ofair; a sort of furious madness took possession of us; we fought oneagainst another; and, in there under a mass of burnt ruins, commenced ahideous combat, which could only terminate by the death of all engagedin it. How long did it last? I cannot tell. I was already sensible thatthe death which had carried off all my companions was about to takepossession of me, when you came to retard it for a few minutes. God bepraised! I shall not die without vengeance."
After these words, pronounced in a scarcely articulate voice, there wasa funereal silence among these three men--a silence interrupted only bythe dull rattle in the throat of the dying man, whose agony had begun.
All at once the captain made a strong effort; he raised himself up, andfixing his bloodshot eyes upon the hunters, said,--
"The savages who attacked me belong to the nation of the Comanches;their chief is named Eagle Head; swear to avenge me like loyal hunters."
"We swear to do so," the two men cried, in a firm tone.
"Thanks," the captain murmured, and falling back he remained motionless.
He was dead.
His distorted features and his open eyes still preserved the expressionof hatred and despair which had animated him to the last.
The hunters surveyed him for an instant, and then, shaking off thispainful impression, they set about the duty of paying the last honoursto the remains of the unfortunate victims of Indian rage.
By the last rays of the setting sun, they completed the melancholy taskwhich they had imposed upon themselves.
After a short rest, Loyal Heart arose, and saddling his horse, said,--
"Now, brother, let us place ourselves on the trail of Eagle Head."
"Come on," the hunter replied.
The two men cast around them a long and sad farewell glance, andwhistling their dogs, they boldly entered the forest, in the depths ofwhich the Comanches had disappeared.
At this moment the moon arose amidst an ocean of vapour, and profuselyscattered her melancholy beams upon the ruins of the American village,in which solitude and death were doomed to reign for ever.