Private Library of 
 
 ALDEN CHASE, 
 Woodstock, Me, 
 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER: 
 
 OR, 
 
 RED CEDAR, THE PRAIRIE OUTLAW, 
 
 BY GUST A YE AIMAED. 
 
 Originally written in French, with the redundant and highly u flowery" language peculiar to 
 that idiom much of the grand excellence of the book is lopt to American readers, who love direct- 
 nesg of speech and precision in narrative. This minor blemish if such it may be termed haa 
 etood in the way of the wide circulation of the volumes which, in Europe, have run like wildfire 
 over the great field of literature. 
 
 A comparatively slight revision adapts thet?e noted works to the American taste. This revision 
 having been confided by us to most competent hands, American readers will now be able to enjoy 
 vhat, Hitherto, has been denied them, Gustave Aimard Americanized ! 
 
 YORK: 
 
 BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 98 WILLIAM AND 41 PL^T STREETS, 
 
I 
 
 Entered according to Act o/ Congress, In the year 1861 
 
 By BaiDLH JLKD COMPAHT, in the Clerk's office of the District Coart tf the United 
 States for the Southern District of New York. 
 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE VIRGIN FOREST. 
 
 IN Mexico the population is only divided 
 into two classes, the upper and the lower. 
 There is no intermediate rank to connect the 
 two extremes, and this is the cause of the two 
 hundred and thirty-nine revolutions which 
 have overthrown this country since the dec- 
 laration of its independence. Why this is 
 so is simple enough. The intellectual power 
 is in the hands of a small number, and all 
 the revolutions are effected by this turbu- 
 lent and ambitious minority ; whence it re- 
 sults that the country is governed by the 
 most complete military despotism, instead 
 of being a free republic. 
 
 The inhabitants of Chihuahua and Texas 
 have retained, even to the present day, that 
 stern, savage, and energetic physiognomy 
 which may be sought in vain among the 
 other States of the Confederation. 
 
 Beneath a sky colder than that of Mexico, 
 the winter, which frequently covers the rivers 
 of the region with a thick layer of ice, hard- 
 ens the muscles of the inhabitants, cleanses 
 their blood, purifies their hearts, and ren- 
 ders them picked men, who are distinguished 
 for their courage, their intelligence, and their 
 profound love of liberty. 
 
 The Apaches, who originally inhabited the 
 greater portion of New Mexico, have grad- 
 ually fallen back before the ax of the pio- 
 neers ; and after retiring into the immense 
 deserts that cover the triangle formed by 
 the Rio Gila, the Del Norte, and the Colo- 
 rado, they ravage almost with impunity the 
 Mexican frontiers, plundering, firing, and 
 devastating all they meet with on their pas- 
 sage. 
 
 The inhabitants of the countries we al- 
 luded to above, held in respect by these 
 ever-shifting savages, are in a state of con- 
 tinual warfare with them, always ready to 
 fight, fortifying their settlements, and only 
 traveling with weapons in their hands. 
 
 On a lovely morning in the month of May, 
 which the Indians call "the moon of the 
 flowers," a man of high stature, with harsh 
 and marked features, mounted on a tall, half- 
 tamed steed, started at a canter from the Bending over the neck of his galloping 
 plaea, and after a few minutes of hesitation, steed, he advanced rapidly without looking 
 
 ^" '*IJ^j S*\. ^X A f mm 
 
 employed in realizing his position, resolutely 
 buried his spurs in the horse's flanks, crossed 
 the ford, and after leaving behind him the 
 numerous cotton wood trees which at this 
 spot cover the river banks, proceeded toward 
 the dense forest that flashed on the horizon. 
 
 This horseman was dressed in the costume 
 generally adopted on the frontiers, and 
 which was so picturesque that we will give 
 a short description of it. The stranger wore 
 a pelisse of green cloth, embroidered with 
 silver, allowing a glimpse of an elegantly- 
 worked shirt, the collar of which was fast- 
 ened by a loosely-knotted black silk hand- 
 kerchief, the ends passed through a diamond 
 rinr. He wore green cloth breeches, trim- 
 med with silver, and two rows of buttons of 
 the same metal, and fastened round the hips 
 by a red silken scarf with gold fringe. The 
 breeches, open on the side half way up the 
 thigh, displayed his fine linen drawers be- 
 neath : his legs were defended by a strip of 
 brown embossed and stamped leather, at- 
 tached below the knee by a silver garter. 
 On his heels enormous spurs clanked. A 
 mantle glistening with gold, and drawn up 
 on the shoulder, protected the upper part 
 of his body, while his head was sheltered 
 from the burning sunbeams by a broad- 
 leafed hat of brown stamped felt, the crown 
 of which was contracted by a large silver 
 cord passed twice or thrice around it. 
 
 His steed was caparisoned with graceful 
 luxuriousness, which hightened all its beau- 
 tiful points : a rich saddle of embossed 
 leather, adorned with massive silver, wide 
 Moorish silver stirrups, and handsome water 
 bottles at the saddle-bow ; while an elegant 
 netting, made of open-work leather, and dec- 
 orated with small steel chains, entirely cov- 
 ered the horse's croup, and sparkled with its 
 slightest movement. 
 
 The stranger appeared, judging from the 
 luxury he displayed, to belong to the high 
 class of society. A sword hung down his 
 right side, two pistols were passed through 
 his girdle, the handle of a long knife protru- 
 ded from his right boot, and he held a su- 
 perbly damascened rifle across the saddle in 
 front of him. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 round him, although the landscape that lay 
 extended before him was one of the moat at- 
 tractive and majestic in those regions. 
 
 The river formed the most capricious wind- 
 ings in the center of a terrain diversified in 
 a thousand strange ways. Here and there 
 on the sandy banks enormous trees might 
 be seen lying, which, dried up by the sun, 
 evidenced, In their washed-out appearance, 
 that they had been dead for centuries. Near 
 the shallow and marshy spots, caymans and 
 alligators wandered about awkwardly. At 
 other places, where the river ran almost 
 straight, its banks were uniform, and cover- 
 ed with tall trees, round which creepers had 
 twined, and then struck root in the ground 
 agaiu, thus forming the most inextricable 
 confusion. Here and there small clearings 
 or marshy spots might be detected in the 
 midst of the dense wood, often piled up 
 with trees that had died of old age. Furth- 
 er on, other trees, which seemed still young, 
 judging from their color and the solidity of 
 their bark, fell into dust with the slightest 
 breath of wind. 
 
 At times the earth, entirely undermined 
 beneath, drawn down by its own weight, 
 dragged with it the wood which it bore, and 
 produced a crashing, confused sound, which 
 was returned on all sides by the echo, and 
 possessed a certain degree of grandeur in 
 this desert, whose depths no man has ever 
 yet dared to scrutinize. 
 
 Still the stranger galloped on, with his 
 eye ardently fixed before him, and not ap- 
 pearing to see anything. Several hours pass- 
 ed thus : the horseman buried himself deeper 
 in the forest. He had left the banks of the 
 river, and only progressed with extreme diffi- 
 culty through the entanglement of branches, 
 grass, and shrubs which at every step arrest- 
 ed his movements, and forced him to make 
 innumerable turnings. He merely reined up 
 his horse now and then, took a glance at the 
 sky, and then started again, muttering to 
 himself but one word: 
 
 "Addante /" (Forward !) 
 
 At length he stopped in a vast clearing, 
 took a suspicions glance around him, and 
 probably reassured by the leaden silence 
 which weighed on the desert, he dismounted, 
 hobbled his horse, and took off its bridle that 
 it might browse, on the young tree-shoots. 
 This duty accomplished, he carelessly lay 
 down on the ground, rolled a maize cigar- 
 ette in his h'ngere, produced a gold match- 
 box from his waist-belt, and struck a light. 
 
 The clearing was of considerable extent. 
 On one side the eye could survey with ease, 
 through the trees, the widely-extending 
 prairie, on which deer were browsing with 
 security. On the other side, the forest, wild- 
 er than ever, seemed, on the contrary, an im- 
 passable wall of verdure. All was abrupt 
 and primitive at this spot, which the foot of 
 man had rarely trodden. Certain trees, either 
 entirely or partially dried up, offered the 
 rigorous remains of a rich and fertile soil ; 
 
 others, equally ancient, were sustained by 
 the twisted creepers, which in the course of 
 time almost equaled their original support 
 in size : the diversity of the leaves produced 
 the strangest possible mixture. Others, 
 containing in their hollow trunk a manure 
 which, formed of their leaves and half-dead 
 branches, had warmed the seeds they had 
 let fall, and offered, in the young shoots 
 they contained, some compensation for the 
 loss of their father tree. 
 
 In the prairies, nature, ever provident, 
 seems to have been desirous to shelter from 
 the insults of time certain old trees, patri- 
 archs of the forest which are crushed be- 
 neath the weight ot ages, by formiog them 
 a cloak of grayish moss, which hangs in fes- 
 toons from the highest branches to the 
 ground, assuming the wildest and most fan- 
 tastic shapes. 
 
 The stranger, lying on his back, With his 
 head resting on his two crossed hands, was 
 smoking with that beatitude, full of ease 
 and sloth, which is peculiar to Southerners. 
 He only interrupted this gentle occupation 
 to roll a fresh cigarette and cast a glance 
 around, while muttering : 
 
 "JEum! he keeps me waiting a long 
 time." 
 
 He emitted a puff of bluish smoke, 
 and resumed his first position. Several 
 hours passed thus. Suddenly a rather loud 
 rustling was heard in the thicket, some dis- 
 tance behind the stranger. 
 
 "Ah, ah!" he said, "I fancy my man is 
 coming at last." 
 
 In the mean while the sound became 
 louder, and rapidly approached. 
 
 "Hang it, come on," the horseman shout- 
 ed as he rose. " By our Lady of Pilar ! you 
 have surely kept me waiting long enough." 
 Nothing appeared : the clearing was still 
 deserted, although the sound had attained a 
 certain degree of intensity. The stranger, 
 surprised at the obstinate silence of the man 
 he was addressing, and specially by his con- 
 tinuing not to show himself, at length rose 
 to see for himself the reason. At this mo- 
 ment his horse pricked up its ears, snorted 
 violently, and made a sudden effort to free 
 itself from the lasso that held it; but our 
 new acquaintance rushed toward it and pat- 
 ted it. The horse trembled all over, and 
 made prodigious bounds in order to escape. 
 The stranger, more and more surprised, 
 looked round for an explanation of these ex- 
 traordinary movements, and was soon satis- 
 fied. 
 
 Scarce twenty yards from him a mag- 
 nificent jaguar, with a splendidly spotted 
 hide, was crouched on the main branch of 
 an enormous cyprese, and fixed on him two 
 ferocious eyes, as it passed its blood-red, 
 rugged tongue over its lips with a feline 
 pleasure. 
 
 "Ah, ah!" the stranger said to himself 
 in a low voice, but displaying no further ex- 
 citement, "I did not expect you; but no 
 
THE T\VO JAOUARS. 
 
 matter, you are welcome, comrade. Himiph ! 
 we shall have a fight for it." 
 
 Without taking his eye oft' the jaguar, ho 
 convinced himself that his sword quitted 
 its scabbard readily, picked up his rifle, and, 
 after these precautions were taken, he ad- 
 vanced resolutely toward the ferocious brute, 
 v which saw him coming without changing its 
 position. On arriving within ten yards of 
 the jaguar, the stranger threw away the 
 cigarette he had till now heid between his 
 lips, shouldered his rifle, and put his linger 
 on the trigger. The jaguar drew itself to- 
 gether and prepared to leap forward. At 
 the same moment a hoarse yell was heard 
 from the opposite side of the clearing. 
 
 " Wait a minute," the stranger said to 
 himself, with a smile; "it seems there are 
 two of them, and I fancied I had to do with 
 a bachelor jaguar. This is beginning to 
 grow interesting." 
 
 And he threw a glance on one side. He 
 had not deceived himself : a second jaguar, 
 rather larger than the first, had fixed its 
 flashing eyes upon him. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE CONTEST. 
 
 THE dwellers on the Mexican frontiers are 
 accustomed to fight continually with wild 
 animals, both men and brutes, that con- 
 tinually attack them. Hence the stranger 
 was but slightly affected by the unexpected 
 visit of the two jaguars. Although his po- 
 sition between his two ferocious enemies 
 was somewhat precarious, and he did not at 
 all conceal from himself the danger he ran 
 alone against two, he did not the less resolve 
 to confront them bravely. Not taking his 
 eye off the jaguar he had" first seen, he went 
 back a few steps obliquely, so as to have his 
 foes nearly opposite him, instead of stand- 
 ing between them. This maneuver, which 
 demanded some little time, succeeded be- 
 yond his hopes. The jaguars watched him, 
 
 licking their lips, and passing their paws be- 
 their ears with those graceful move- 
 
 hind 
 
 ments peculiar to the feline race. The two 
 wild beasts, certain of their prey, seemed 
 to be playing with it, and not over eager to 
 pounce on it. 
 
 While keeping his eye on the watch, the 
 Mexican did not yield to any treacherous 
 feeling of security: he knew that the 
 struggle he was about to undertake was a 
 supreme one, and he took his precautions. 
 Jaguars never attack a man unless forced by 
 necessity ; and the latter tried, before all, 
 to seize the horse. The noble animal, se- 
 curely fastened by its master, exhausted 
 itself in efforts to break the bonds that held 
 it, and escape. It trembled with terror on 
 scenting its ferocious enemies. 
 
 The stranger, when his precautions were 
 completely taken, shouldered his rule for 
 
 the second time. At this moment the jagu- 
 ars raised their heads, while laying back their 
 ears and sniffing anxiously. An almost im- 
 perceptible sound was audible in the bushes. 
 
 u Who goes there ?" the Mexican asked in 
 a loud voice. 
 
 " A friend, Don Miguel Zarate," was the 
 reply. 
 
 11 Ah! it is Valentine," the Mexican con- 
 tinued. "You have arrived just in time to 
 see some fine sport." 
 
 "Ah, ah!" the man who had already 
 spoken went on. " Can I help you ?" 
 
 "It is useless; but make haste if you 
 want to see." 
 
 The branches were sharply drawn aside, 
 and two men appeared in the clearing. At 
 the sight of the jaguars they stopped, not 
 through alarm, for they quietly placed the 
 butts of their rifles on the ground, but in 
 order to give the hunter every facility to 
 emerge victorious from his rash combat. 
 
 The jaguars seemed to comprehend that 
 the moment for action had arrived. As if 
 by one accord, they drew themselves up and 
 bounded on their enemy. The first, struck 
 in its leap by a bullet which passed through 
 its right eye, rolled on the ground, where it 
 remained motionless. The second was re- 
 ceived on the point of the hunter's knife, 
 who, after discharging his rifle, had fallen on. 
 his knee, with his left arm folded in hia 
 blanket in front, and the knife in the other 
 hand. The man and the tiger writhed to- 
 gether in a deadly embrace, and after a few 
 seconds only one of the adversaries rose : it 
 was the man. The tiger was dead : the hun- 
 ter's knife, guided by a firm hand, had passed 
 through its heart. 
 
 During this rapid fight the new-comers 
 had not made a sign, but remained stoical 
 spectators of all that was taking place. The 
 Mexican rose, thrust his weapon thrice into 
 the grass to clean the blade, and turning 
 coldly to the strangers, said : 
 
 " What do you say to that?" 
 
 "Splendidly played," the first answered; 
 " it is one of the best double strokes I ever 
 saw in my life." 
 
 The two men threw their rifles on their 
 shoulders, and walked up to their friend, 
 Who reloaded his piece with as much cool- 
 ness and tranquillity as if he had not just 
 escaped from a terrible danger by a miracle 
 of skill. 
 
 The sun was sinking on the horizon, the 
 shadows of the trees assumed a prodigious 
 length, and the luminary appeared like a 
 ball of fire amid the limpid azure of the 
 heavens. The night would soon arrive, and 
 the desert was awaking. On all sides could 
 be heard, iu the gloomy and mysterious 
 depths of the virgin forest, the hoarse howl- 
 ing of the coyotes and other wild beasts, 
 mingled with the song of the birds perched 
 on all the branches. The desert, silent and 
 gloomy during the oppressive heat of day, 
 emerged from its unhealthy toroor oil the 
 
10 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 approach of dark, and was preparing to re- 
 sume its nocturnal sports. 
 
 The three men in the clearing collected 
 dried branches, made a pile of them, and set 
 fire to it. They doubtlessly intended to 
 camp for a portion of the night at this spot. 
 So soon as the flames rose joyously skyward 
 in long spirals, the two strangers produced 
 from meir game-bags maize^cakes, jerked 
 incut, and a gourd "of whisky. These va- 
 rious comestibles were complacently spread 
 out on the grass, and the three men began a 
 hunter's meal. When the gourd had gone 
 the round several times, and the food had 
 disappeared, the new-comers lit their In- 
 dian pipes, and the Mexican rolled a cigar- 
 ette. 
 
 Although this meal had been short, it 
 lasted, however, long enough for night to 
 have completely set in ere it was ended. 
 Perfect darkness brooded over the clearing, 
 the ruddy reflections of the fire played on 
 the energetic faces of the three men, and 
 gave them a fantastic appearance. 
 
 44 And now," the Mexican said, afterlight- 
 ing his cigarette, "I will, with your permis- 
 sion, explain to you why I was so anxious to 
 see you." 
 
 "One moment," one of the hunters an- 
 swered. "You know that in the deserts 
 the leaves have often eyes, and the trees 
 ears. If I am not mistaken in your hints, 
 you invited us here that our interview might 
 be secret." 
 
 " In truth, I have the greatest interest 
 that nothing of what is said here be over- 
 heard, or even suspected." 
 
 44 Very good. Curumilla, to your work." 
 
 The second hunter rose, seized his rifle, 
 and disappeared noiselessly in the gloom. 
 His absence was rather long; but, as long 
 as it lasted, the two men left at the fire did 
 not exchange a syllable. In about half an 
 hour the hunter returned, however, and seat- 
 ed himself by his comrades' side. 
 
 44 Well V" the one who had sent him off 
 asked him. 
 
 44 My brothers can speak," he replied, la- 
 conically ; u the desert is quiet." 
 
 On this assurance the three men banished 
 all anxiety. Still prudence did not abandon 
 them : they took up their pipes, and turned 
 their backs to the tire, so that they might 
 watch the neighborhood while conversing. 
 
 41 We are ready to listen to you," the first 
 hunter said. 
 
 44 Listen to me with the greatest atten- 
 tion," the Mexican began; "what, you are 
 about to hear is of the utmost importance." 
 
 The two men bowed silently, and the Mex- 
 ican prepared to speak again. 
 
 Before going further we must introduce to 
 the reader the two men we have just brought 
 on the stage, and go back a few paces in or- 
 der to make it perfectly understood why 
 Don Miguel Zarate, in lieu of receiving them 
 at his own house, had given them the meet- 
 ing in the heart of the forest. 
 
 The two hunters seemed at the first glance 
 to be Indians; but, on examining them 
 more attentively, you could recognize that 
 one of them belonged to those white trap- 
 pers whose boldness has become proverbial 
 in the South-west. Their appearance and 
 equipment offered a singular medley of sav- 
 age and civilized life. Their hair was of a 
 remarkable length ; for in those countries, 
 where a man is frequently only sought for 
 the glory of lifting his scalp, it is considered 
 the thing to wear it long and easy to seize. 
 
 They had their hair neatly plaited, and in- 
 tertwined with beaver-skins and bright-col- 
 ored ribbons. The rest of their garb har- 
 monized with this specimen of their taste. 
 A hunting-shirt of bright red calico fell 
 clown to their knees; gaiters decorated with 
 woolen ribbons and bells surrounded their 
 legs; and their feet were shod with mocca- 
 sins embroidered with beads, which the 
 squaws know so well how to make. A stri- 
 ped blanket, fastened round the hips by a 
 belt of tanned deer-hide, completed their 
 clothing,but was not so closely drawn that 
 at their every movement the butt of the pis- 
 tols and the hilt of the knives might be seen 
 glistening. As for their rifles, useless at this 
 moment, and carelessly thrown on the 
 ground by their side, if they had been strip- 
 ped of the plume- worked elk- skin that cov- 
 ered them, it would have been possible to 
 see with what care their owners had decorat- 
 ed them with copper nails painted of various 
 colors ; for all about these two men bore 
 the imprint of Indian habits. 
 
 The first of the two hunters was a man of 
 thirty-eight at the most, tall, and well 
 built : his muscular limbs denoted great bod- 
 ily strength, allied to unequaled lightness. 
 Although he affected all the manners of the 
 red-skins, it was an easy matter to perceive 
 that he not onl} 7 belonged to the unmixed 
 white race, but also to the Norman or Gaul- 
 ish type. He was fair ; his blue eyes had 
 an expression of undefinable sadness ; his 
 nose was slightly aquiline ; his mouth large, 
 and filled with teeth of dazzling whiteness; 
 a thick chestnut beard covered the lower 
 part of his face, which revealed gentleness, 
 kindness, and courage without boasting, 
 though the whole were combined with a will 
 of iron. 
 
 His companion evidently belonged to the 
 Indian race, all the characteristic signs of 
 which he displayed ; but, strange to say, he 
 was not coppery like the American aborigi- 
 nes of Texas and North America; and his 
 skin was brown, and slightly of an olive hue. 
 He had a lofty brow, a 'bent nose, small but 
 piercing eyes, a large mouth, and square 
 chin; in short, he presented the complete 
 type of the Araucano race, which inhabits a 
 limited territory in the south of Chili. This 
 hunter had round his brow a purple-colored 
 fillet, in which was thrust over the right ear 
 a plume of the Andes eagle, a sign which 
 serves to distinguish the chiefs of the Aueae. 
 
A STRANGE SPECTACLE. 
 
 11 
 
 These Indians above all, in New Mexico 
 although called Iniliox t /W<fc<, are always 
 ready on the tirst opportunity to ally them- 
 selves with- their desert congeners ; and in 
 the incursions of the Apaches and Coman- 
 ches it is rare for the faithful Indians not to 
 serve them as scouts, guides, and spies. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE PECCAKIES. 
 
 The family of Don Miguel Zarate had re- 
 tired to New Mexico, which country it did 
 not leave again, a few years after the con- 
 quests of the adventurer Cortez. Don Mig- 
 uel had closely followed the policy of his 
 family by maintaining the bonds of friend- 
 ship and good neighborhood which, from 
 time immemorial, attached it to the Indians, 
 believers or not. This policy had borne its 
 fruit. Annually, in September, when the 
 terrible red warriors, preceded by murder 
 and arson, rushed like a torrent on the 
 wretched inhabitants, whom they massacred 
 in the farms they plundered, without pity 
 for age or sex, only Don Miguel Zarate' s es- 
 tates were respected ; and not merely was 
 no damage inflicted on them, but even if at 
 times a field were unwittingly trampled by 
 the horses' hoofs, or a few trees destroyed 
 by plunderers, the evil was immediately re- 
 paired ere the owner had opportunity for 
 complaint. 
 
 This conduct of the Indians had not failed 
 to arouse against Don Miguel extreme jeal- 
 ousy on the part of the inhabitants, who saw 
 tnemselves periodically ruined by the Indios 
 Bravos. Earnest complaints had been laid 
 against him before the Mexican Govern- 
 ment ; but whatever might be the power of 
 his enemies, and the means they employed 
 to ruin him, the rich haciendero had never 
 been seriously disturbed : in the first place, 
 because New Mexico is too remote from the 
 capital for the inhabitants to have any thing 
 to fear from the governing classes ; and 
 secondly, Don Miguel was too rich not to 
 render it easy for him to impose silence on 
 those who were most disposed to injure him. 
 
 Don Miguel was left a widower after eight 
 years' marriage, with two children, a boy and 
 girl, the son being twenty-four, the daugh- 
 ter seventeen, at the period when our story 
 opens. Donna Clara such was the daugh- 
 ter's name waa one of the most delicious 
 maidens that can be imagined. Her black 
 eyes, fringed with long silky lashes, pure 
 mouth, and dreamy brow seemed to promise 
 divine joys. Her complexion, slightly 
 bronzed by the warm sunbeams, wore' that 
 gilded reflection which so well becomes the 
 women of these intertropical countries. 
 She was short of stature, but exquisitely 
 modeled. Gentle and simple, ignorant as 
 a Creole, this delicious child was adored by 
 her father, who saw in her the wife he had 
 
 so loved living once more. The Indian* 
 looked after her when she at times passed 
 pensively, plucking a flower before their 
 wretched huts, and scarce bending the plants 
 on which she placed her delicate foot. In 
 their hearts they compared this frail maiden, 
 with her soft and vaporous outline, to the 
 " virgin of the first loves," that sublime 
 creation of the Indian religion which holds 
 so great a place in the Aztec mythology. 
 
 Don Pablo Zarate, the son, was apowerful- 
 Iv-built man, with harshly-marked features, 
 a'nd a haughty glance, although at times it 
 was imprinted with gentleness and kindness. 
 Endowed with more than ordinary strength, 
 skilled in all bodily exercises, Don Pablo 
 was renowned through the whole country 
 for his talent in taming the most spirited 
 horses, and the correctness of his aim when 
 on the chase. A determined hunter and 
 daring w r ood-ranger, this young man, when 
 he had a good horse between his legs, and 
 his rifle in his hand, knew none, man or ani- 
 mal, capable of barring his passage. The 
 Indians, in their simple faith, yielded to the 
 son the same respect and veneration they 
 entertained for the father. 
 
 The Zarates, then, at the period when our 
 story opens, were real kings of New Mexico. 
 But the felicity they enjoyed was suddenly 
 troubled by one of those vulgar incidents 
 which, though unimportant in themselves, 
 produce a discomfort possessing no apparent 
 cause, from the fact that it is impossible to 
 foresee or prevent them. The circumstance 
 was as follows : 
 
 Don Miguel possessed, in the vicinity of 
 the Paso, vast estates extending for a great 
 distance, and consisting principally of haci- 
 endas, prairies, and forests. One day he 
 was returning from a visit to his haciendas. 
 It was late, and he pressed on his horse in 
 order to reach ere night the ford, when, at 
 about three or four leagues at the most from 
 the spot to which he was proceeding, and 
 just as he was entering a dense forest of 
 cotton wood trees, through which he must 
 pass ere reaching the ford, his attention was 
 attracted by cries mingled with growls emer- 
 
 S'ng from th'e wood he was about to enter, 
 e stopped in order to account for the un- 
 usual sounds he heard, and bent his head 
 forward to detect what was happening. 
 But it was impossible for him to distinguish 
 any thing through the chaos of creepers 
 and shrubs which intercepted vision. In 
 the meanwhile the noise grew louder, and 
 the shouts were redoubled, and mingled 
 with oaths and passionate exclamations. 
 
 His horse laid back its ears, neighed, and 
 refused to advance. Thinking that a man 
 was probably attacked by wild beasts, he 
 only consulted his heart; and, in spite of 
 the visible repugnance of his steed, he com- 
 pelled it to go forward and enter the wood. 
 He had scarce gone a few yards ere he 
 stopped in amazement at the strange spec- 
 tacle that presented itself to him. 
 
12 
 
 THE TRAIL- HUNTER. 
 
 In the middle of a clearing lay a ripped- 
 up horse, which six or eight peccaries were 
 rending, while a dozen others were attack- 
 ing; with their tusks the stem of an enor- 
 mous tree, in the topmost branches of which 
 a man had sought shelter. 
 
 Let us explain to our readers, who proba- 
 bly know little about them, what sort of 
 animals the peccaries are, 
 
 The peccaries hold the intermediate grade 
 between the domestic pig and the wild boar. 
 Although this animal does not exceed two 
 feet in" night, and is not more than three 
 feet long from the end of the snout to the 
 beginning of the tail, it is indubitably one 
 of the most dangerous animals in North 
 America. The animal's jaw is provided 
 with tusks rather like those of the boar, but 
 straight and sharp, their length varying be- 
 tween four and six inches. In the shape of 
 the body it resembles a pig, but the bristles 
 scattered over its warty hide are in colored 
 strips: the part nearest the skin is white, 
 and the point of a chocolate tinge. So soon 
 as the animal is enraged these bristles stand 
 out like the quills of a porcupine. 
 
 The movements of the peccaries are as 
 quick and sharp as those of a squirrel. They 
 ordinarily live in herds of fifteen, thirty, 
 and even fifty. The strength of the head, 
 neck, and shoulders is so great when they 
 charge, that nothing can resist the impetu- 
 osity of their attacks. A remarkable pecu- 
 liarity of this genus is the clumsy wart they 
 have on their "backs, whence a inusky fluid 
 evaporates when the animal is in a fury. 
 
 The peccary lives in preference on acorns, 
 roots, wheat, sugar-cane, and reptiles of 
 every description. It is a proved fact that 
 the most venomous serpents are devoured 
 by them without their feeling in the slight- 
 est degree incommoded. 
 
 The mode in which the peccary forms its 
 lair is very singular. This lair is generally 
 in the midst of tufted and impenetrable 
 canes, found in marshy spots round the 
 monarchs of the forest, which still stand 
 like crushed giants, with their grappling 
 lines of creepers and virgin vines. The 
 trunks of these trees, which at times meas- 
 ure forty feet in circumference, are nearly 
 all hollow, and thus afford a convenient 
 shelter for the peccaries, which retire to 
 them every night in herds of twenty to 
 twenty-five, entering the cavity one after 
 the other backward; so that the last has 
 the end of its snout placed just at the en- 
 trance of the hole, thus watching, as it 
 were, over the rest of its companions. 
 
 The peccaries are unboundedly ferocious : 
 they know not danger, or at least despise it 
 completely. They always attack in herds, 
 and fight with unequaled rage until the last 
 succumbs, no matter the nature of their 
 foe. Hence men and animals all fly a meet- 
 ing with these terrible beasts: the jaguar, 
 so strong and redoubtable, will become thrir 
 wey if it be BO imprudent as to attack them. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE SQUATTER. 
 
 AFTER what we have said, it i* easy to 
 understand how precarious was the position 
 of the man perched on the top of the tree, 
 and surrounded by peccaries. Hifi enemies 
 seemed determined not to leave their 
 ground ; they craftily crept round the tree, 
 attacked its base with their tusks, and then 
 recognizing the inutility of thoir onsets, 
 tl>ey quietly lay down by the carcass of the 
 horse, which they had already sacrificed to 
 their fury. Don Miguel felt moved to pity 
 for the poor fellow, whose position grew 
 momentarily more critical ; but in vain did 
 he rack his brains how to help the unhappy 
 man whose destruction was assured. 
 
 To attack the peccaries would have been ex- 
 treme imprudence, and have produced no 
 other result than that of turning on himself 
 the fury of the animals, while not saving the 
 man he wished to help. Still time pressed. 
 What was to be done ? How without sacri- 
 ficing himself, save the man who ran so 
 great a risk ? 
 
 He hesitated for a long period. It seemed 
 to him impossible to leave, without help, 
 this man whose death was certain. This 
 idea, which presented itself to his mind sev- 
 eral times, he had energetically repulsed, so 
 monstrous did it appear to him. At length 
 he resolved at all risks to attempt impossi- 
 bilities in favor of this stranger, of whose 
 death he would have eventually accused 
 himself had he left him to perish in the 
 desert. 
 
 The stranger's position was the more crit- 
 ical because, in his haste to defend himself 
 from the attacks of his enemies, he had let 
 his rifle fall at the foot of the tree, and was 
 consequently unable to reduce the number 
 of the peccaries. In spite of the fineness of 
 their scent, the latter had not noticed Don 
 Miguel's approach, who, by a providential 
 accident, had entered the wood on the side 
 opposite the wind. He dismounted with a 
 sigh, patted his horse, and then took off its 
 accouterments. The noble animal, habitu- 
 ated to its master's caresses, shook its head 
 joyously, and fixed its large intelligent eyes 
 on him. Don Miguel could not repress an- 
 other sigh : a tear fell down his bronzed 
 cheeks. On the point of accomplishing the 
 sacrifice, he hesitated. 
 
 It was a faithful companion, almost t 
 friend, he was about to separate from ; but 
 the life of a man was at stake. Driving 
 back the feelings that agitated him, his res- 
 olution was formed. He passed a lasso 
 round his horse's neck, and in spite of its 
 obstinate resistance, compelled it to advance 
 to the entrance of the clearing in which the 
 peccaries were assembled. A frail curtain ot 
 creepers and leaves alone hid it from theii 
 sight. On arriving here he stopped : he had 
 one more moment's hesitation, but only 
 one ; for then seizing a bit of tinder, which 
 
A SINISTER FACE. 
 
 13 
 
 he lighted, he thrust It into the poor ani- 
 mal's ear while caressing it. 
 
 The effect was sudden and terrible. 
 The horse uttered a snort of pain ; and ren- 
 dered mad by the burning, bounded forward 
 into the clearing, striving in vain to get rid 
 of the tinder which caused it intolerable suf- 
 fering. Don Miguel had smartly leaped 
 aside, and now followed with an anxious 
 glance the result of the terrible tentative he, 
 had just made to save the stranger. On 
 seeing the horse appear suddenly In their 
 midst, the peccaries rose, formed a compact 
 group, and rushed with their heads down in 
 pursuit of the horse, thinking no longer of 
 the man. The animal, spurred on still more 
 by the sight of its ferocious enemies, shot 
 ahead with the speed of an arrow, breaking 
 down with its chest all the obstacles in its 
 way, and followed closely by the peccaries. 
 
 The man was saved ; but at what a price ! 
 His owner repressed a last sigh of regret, 
 and leaped into the clearing. The stranger 
 had already descended from the tree; but 
 the emotion he had undergone was so ex- 
 treme, that he remained seated on the 
 ground, almost in a state of unconscious- 
 ness. 
 
 "Quick, quick!" Don Miguel said to 
 him sharply. "We have not a moment to 
 lose: the peccaries may alter their minds 
 and return." 
 
 "That is true," the stranger muttered in 
 a hollow voice, as he cast a Iterrih'ecl glance 
 around. " Let us be off off at once." 
 
 He made an effort over himself, seized his 
 rifle, and rose. Through a presentiment 
 for which he could not account to himself, 
 Don Miguel experienced at the sight of 
 this man, whom he had hitherto scarce 
 looked at, a feeling of invincible doubt and 
 disgust. Owing to the life he was obliged 
 to lead on these frontiers, frequented by 
 people of every description, the haciendero 
 had been often brought into relation with 
 trappers and hunters whose faces were no 
 recommendation to them ; but never had 
 chance brought him in contact with an indi- 
 vidual of such sinister appearance as this 
 one. 
 
 Still he did not allow his feelings to be 
 seen thro ugh, and invited this man to follow 
 him. The latter did not let the invitation 
 be repeated ; for he was anxious to escape 
 from the spot where he had been so near 
 death. Thanks to the Mexican's acquaint- 
 ance with the country, the wood was speed- 
 ily traversed, and the two men, after a walk 
 of scarce an hour's duration, reached the 
 banks of the Del Norte, just opposite the 
 village. Their speed had been so great, 
 their anxiety so serious, that they had not 
 exchanged a syllabic, so fearful were they 
 of seeing the peccaries appear at any moment. 
 Fortunately this was not the case, and they 
 reached the ford without being again dis- 
 turbed. 
 
 trappings, which he now threw on the 
 ground, and looked around him in the hope 
 of iinding some one who would help him in 
 crossing the river. His expectations were 
 not deceived ; for just as they reached tho 
 ford a muleteer was preparing to cross to 
 the other side of the river with his mules, 
 and offered to carry them both to the town. 
 The two men eagerly accepted, each mount- 
 ed a mule, and half an hour later they found 
 themselves in safety at the village. After 
 giving the muleteer a few coins to requite 
 him for his services, Don Miguel took up 
 his horse's trappings again, and prepared to 
 start. The stranger stopped. 
 
 "We are aboiit to part here," he said in a 
 rough voice ; " but, before leaving, let me ex- 
 press to you my deep gratitude for the noble 
 and generous manner in which you saved 
 my life at the peril of your own." 
 
 "Sir, I only did my duty in saving you. 
 In the desert all men are brothers, and owe 
 eacli other protection. Hence do not thank 
 me, I beg, for a very simple action : any 
 other in my place would have acted as I have 
 done." 
 
 "Perhaps so," the stranger continued; 
 " but be kind enough, pray, to tell me your 
 name, so that I may know to whom I owe 
 my life." 
 
 " That is needless," Don Miguel said with 
 a smile. " Still, as I fancy you are a stran- 
 ger in these parts, let me give you a piece of 
 advice." 
 
 "What is it, sir?" 
 
 " Never in future to attack the peccaries. 
 They are terrible enemies, only to be con- 
 quered by a strong body of men ; and an in- 
 dividual in attacking them commits an un- 
 pardonable folly, to which he must fall a 
 victim." 
 
 " Be assured, sir, that I shall profit by the 
 lesson I have received this day, and shall 
 never put myself in such a wasp's nest 
 again. I was'too near paying dearly for my 
 imprudence. But I beg you, sir, do not let 
 us separate ere I know the name of my pre- 
 server." 
 
 " As you insist, sir, you shall learn it. I 
 am Don Miguel de Zarate." 
 
 The stranger took a peculiar glance at the 
 speaker, while repressing a movement of 
 surprise. 
 
 u Ah !" he said in a singular tone, " thanks, 
 Don Miguel Zarate. Without knowing you 
 personally, I was already acquainted with 
 your name." 
 
 "That is possible," the haciendero an- 
 swered; "for I am well known in this 
 country, where my family has been long es- 
 tablished." 
 
 "I, sir, am the man whom the Indians 
 call Wilchasta Jonte, the Man-eater, and 
 the hunters, my companions, Red Cedar." 
 
 And after lifting his hand to his cap in sa- 
 lute, this man threw his rifle on his shoul- 
 der, turned on his heel, and went off at full 
 
u 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 while, and then walked pensively toward the 
 house he inhabited at Paso. The haeiendero 
 did not suspect that he had sacrificed his 
 favorite horse to save the life of his most 
 implacable enemy. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE WOUND. 
 
 AT sunrise Don Miguel, mounted on an 
 excellent horse, left the Paso, and proceeded 
 toward the estate where he resided with 
 his family. It was situated a few miles 
 from the village, in a delicious position, 
 and was known as the Farm of the Well. 
 The estate inhabited by him stood in the 
 center of the vast delta formed by the Del 
 Norte and the Rio San Pedro, or Devil's 
 River. It was a strong and massive build- 
 ing, supported at regular distances by enor- 
 mous cross walls of carved stone. Like all 
 the frontier habitations, which are rather 
 fortresses than houses, it was only pierced 
 on the side of the plain with a few narrow 
 windows resembling loopholes, and protect- 
 ed by solid iron bars. This abode was be- 
 girt by a thick wall of circum variation, de- 
 fended on the top by thai fretwork called 
 almenas, which indicated the nobility of the 
 owner. Within this wall but separated 
 from the chief apartments, were the stables, 
 outhouses, barns, and cabins for the peons. 
 
 At the extremity of the court-yard, in an 
 angle of the hacienda, was the tall square 
 belfry of the chapel, rising above its terraced 
 roof. This chapel was served by a monk 
 called Fray Ainbrosio. A magnificent plain 
 closed in this splendid farm. At the end of 
 a valley more than fifty miles in length 
 were cactus trees of a conical shape, loaded 
 with fruit and flowers, and whose stems 
 were as much as six feet in diameter. 
 
 It was one of those superb American 
 mornings during which nature seems to be 
 holding a festival. The centzontle (American 
 nightingale) frequently poured forth its har- 
 monious notes ; the red-throstled cardinals, 
 the blue birds, the parroquets, chattered 
 gayly beneath the foliage ; far away on the 
 plain galloped flocks of light antelopes and 
 timid ashatas ; while on the extreme verge 
 of the horizon rushed startled droves of 
 wild horses, which raised clouds of impal- 
 pable dust beneath the vibration of their 
 rapid hoofs. A few alligators, carelessly 
 stretched out on the river mud, were dry- 
 ing their scales in the sun, and in mid air the 
 grand eagles of the Sierra Madre hovered 
 majestically above the valley. 
 
 Don Miguel advanced rapidly at the favor- 
 ite pace which consists in making the horse 
 raise its front legs, while the hind ones al- 
 most graze the ground a peculiar sort of 
 amble which is very gentle and rapid. The 
 haeiendero only employed four hours in 
 traversing the distance separating him from 
 
 his home, where he arrived about nine in 
 the morning. He was received on the thresh- 
 old of the hou?e by his daughter, who, 
 warned of his a; rival, had hastened to meet 
 him. 
 
 He had been absent from home for a fort- 
 night ; hence he received his daughter's 
 caresses with the greatest pleasure. When 
 he had embraced her several times, while 
 continuing to hold her tightly clasped in his 
 arms, he regarded her attentively during 
 'several seconds. 
 
 "What is the matter, Clara ?" he asked, 
 with sympathy. "You seem very sad. Can 
 you feel vexed at the sight of me?" he ad- 
 ded, with a smile. 
 
 "Oh, you can not believe that, father!" 
 she answered, quickly ; " for you know how 
 happy your presence must render me." 
 
 " Thanks, my child ! But whence, in that 
 case, comes the sorrow I see spread over 
 your features ?" 
 
 The maiden let her eyes sink, but made 
 no reply. Don Miguel threw a searching 
 glance around. 
 
 " Where is Don Pablo ?" he said. " Why 
 has he not come to greet me ? Can he be 
 away from home ?" 
 
 'No, father, he is here." 
 Well, then, what is the reason he is not 
 by your side?" 
 
 ' Because "the girl said, with hesitation. 
 'Well?" 
 ' He is ill." 
 
 ' My son ill !" Don Miguel exclaflned. 
 ' I am wrong," Clara corrected herself. 
 'Explain vourself, in heaven's name!" 
 'My father, the fact is that Pablo is 
 wounded." 
 
 ' ' Wound eel ! " the father sha rply said ; and 
 thrusting his daughter aside, he rushed to- 
 ward the house, bounded up the few steps 
 leading to the porch, crossed several rooms 
 without stopping, and reached his son's 
 chamber. The young man was lying, weak 
 and faint, on his bed ; but on perceiving his 
 parent he smiled, and held out his hand to 
 him. Don Miguel was fondly attached to 
 his son, his sole heir, and walked up to him. 
 
 "What is this wound of which I have 
 heard ?" he asked him, in great agitation. 
 
 "Less than nothing, father," the young 
 man replied, exchanging a meaning glance 
 with his sister, who entered at the moment. 
 " Clara is a foolish girl, who, in her tender- 
 ness, wrongly alarmed you." 
 
 "But, after all, you are wounded?" the 
 father continued. 
 
 " But I repeat that it is a mere nothing." 
 
 " Come, explain yourself. How and when 
 did j'ou receive this wound ?" 
 
 The young man blushed, and maintained 
 silence. 
 
 "I insist on knowing," Don Miguel con- 
 tinued, pressingly. 
 
 "Good heavens, father !" Don Pablo re- 
 plied, with an air of ill-humor, " I do not 
 understand why you are alarmed for BO 
 
BUFFALO VALLEY. 
 
 15 
 
 futile a cause. I am not a child, whom a 
 scratch should make frightened ; and many 
 times have I been wounded previously, and 
 you have not disturbed yourself so much." 
 
 " That is possible ; but the mode in which 
 you answer me, the care you seem to take 
 to keep me ignorant of the cause of this 
 wound in a word, every thing tells me that 
 this time you arc trying to hide something 
 grave from me." 
 
 " You are mistaken, father, and shall 
 convince yourself." 
 
 " I wish nothing more : speak. Clara, 
 my child, go and give orders to have break- 
 fast prepared, for I am dying of hunger." 
 
 The girl went out. 
 
 u Now it is our turn," Don Miguel con- 
 tinued. " In the first place, where are you 
 wounded?" 
 
 u Oh ! I have merely a slight scratch on 
 my shoulder : if I went to bed it was more 
 through indolence than any other motive." 
 
 "Hum! and what scratched your shoul- 
 der?" 
 
 "A bullet." 
 
 "What! a bullet? Then yon must have 
 fought a duel, unhappy boy?" Don Miguel 
 exclaimed, with a shudder. 
 
 The young man smiled, pressed his father's 
 hand, and bending toward him, said : 
 
 "This is what has happened." 
 
 " I am listening to you," Don Miguel 
 replied, making an effort to calm himself. 
 
 "Two days after your departure, father, 
 I was superintending, as you wished me to 
 do, the cutting of the cane crop, when a 
 hunter whom you will probably remember 
 having seen prowling about the estate, a 
 man of the name of Andres Garote, accos- 
 ted me at the moment I was about to re- 
 turn home after giving my orders to the 
 major-domo. After saluting me obsequi- 
 ously, according to his wont, the scamp 
 smiled cunningly, and lowering his voice so 
 as not to be overheard by those around us, 
 said, ' Don Pablo, I fancy you would give 
 half an ounce to the man wlfo brought you 
 important news?' 'That depends/ I an- 
 swered ; for, having known the man a long 
 time, I was aware much confidence could 
 not be placed in him. ' Bah ! you are so 
 rich,' he continued, insidiously, 'that a 
 miserable sum like that is less than nothing 
 In your pocket, while in mine it would do 
 me a deal of good.' 
 
 " Apart from his defects, this scamp had 
 at times done us a few small services ; and 
 then, as he said, a half-ounce is but a trifie, 
 BO I gave it to him. lie stowed it away in 
 his pockets, and then bent down to my ear. 
 ' Thanks,' he said to me. ' I shall not cheat 
 you of your money. Your horse is rested, 
 and can stand a long journey. Proceed to 
 Buffalo Vulley, and there you will learn 
 something to interest you.' It was in vain 
 that I urged him to explain himself more 
 clearly ; 1 could draw no more from him. 
 He merely added before parting from me, 
 
 ' You have good weapons ; BO take them 
 with you, for no man knoweth what may 
 happen.' Somehow the scamp's vailed 
 confidences aroused my curiosity : hence I 
 resolved to go to Buffalo Valley, and gain 
 the clue of this riddle." 
 
 "Andre's Garote is a villain, who laid a 
 snare for you, into which you fell," Don 
 Miguel interrupted. 
 
 " No, father, you are mistaken. Andre's 
 was honest toward me, and I have only 
 thanks to give him. Still he should have 
 explained himself, perhaps, more distinctly." 
 
 The listener shook his head with a doubt- 
 ing air. 
 
 " Go on," he said. 
 
 " I entered my house, procured the weap- 
 ons, and then, mounted on Negro, my black 
 charger, I proceeded toward Buffalo Valley. 
 As you are aware, father, the place we call 
 so, and which belongs to us, is an immense 
 forest of cedars and maples, nearly forty 
 miles in circumference, and traversed almost 
 through its entire length by a wide conflu- 
 ent of the Rio San Pedro." 
 
 "Of course I know it, and I intend next 
 year to.fell some of the wood there." 
 
 "You need not take that trouble," the 
 young man said, with a smile, " for some 
 one else has done it for you." 
 
 "What do you mean?" the haciendero 
 asked, wrathfully. " Who has dared ?" 
 
 "Oh! one of those wretched heretic 
 squatters, as they call themselves. The 
 villain found the spot to suit him, and has 
 quietly settled there with his whelps three 
 big fellows with hang-dog faces, who 
 laughed at me when I told them that the 
 forest was mine, and answered, while aiming 
 at me, that they were North Americans, 
 who cared as little for me as they did for a 
 coyote ; that the ground belonged to the 
 first comer ; and that I should afford them 
 lively pleasure by being off" at full speed. 
 What more shall I tell you, father ? I take 
 after you. I have hot blood, and I cordially 
 hate that race of Yankee pirates, who, for 
 some years back, have settled on our lovely 
 country like a swarm of musquitoes. I saw 
 our forest plundered, our finest trees- cut 
 down. I could not remain unmoved in the 
 presence of these scoundrels' insolence, and 
 the quarrel became so sharp that they fired 
 at me." 
 
 "They shall pay dearly for the affront 
 they have offered you, I swear it ! I will 
 take an exemplary vengeance," Don Miguel 
 exclaimed, in a fury. 
 
 " Why be so angry, father?" the young 
 man replied, visibly annoyed at the effect 
 his story had produced. "The harm these 
 people do us is really very trifling. 1 was 
 in the wrong to let my passion carry me 
 away." 
 
 " On the contrary you were right. I will 
 not have these Northern thieves come and 
 commit their plunder here. I will put a 
 stop to it." 
 
16 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 "I assure you that, if you will leave me 
 to act, I feel certain of arranging this affair 
 to your satisfaction." 
 
 " I forbid you taking the slightest steps, 
 for this matter concerns me now. What- 
 ever may occur, I do not wish you to inter- 
 fere. Will you promise me this ?" 
 
 " As you insist, I do so, father." 
 
 " Very good. Get cured as speedily as 
 possible, and keep your mind at rest. The 
 Yankees shall pay me dearly for the blood 
 they have shed." 
 
 With these words Don Miguel retired, 
 and his son fell back ou his bed stifling a 
 sigh, and uttering a hoarse exclamation of 
 passion. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 THE SQUATTER'S SHANTY. 
 
 DON PABLO had not told his father the facts 
 in all their truth or detail. He had fallen into 
 a perfect ambuscade. He was suddenly at- 
 tacked by the three brothers, who would 
 have mercilessly killed him, resolved to lay 
 the blame of his death on the wild 
 beasts, bad not, at the moment when 
 one of them lifted his knife on the 
 young man, who was thrown down and ren- 
 clerea motionless by the others, a providen- 
 tial succor reached him in the person of a 
 charming maid scarce sixteen years of 
 age. 
 
 The courageous girl rushed from a copse 
 with the rapidity of a fawn, and threw her- 
 self resolutely into the midst of the assas- 
 sins. 
 
 44 What are you about, brothers ?" she ex- 
 claimed, in a melodious voice. " Why do 
 you wish to kill this stranger?" 
 
 The three squatters, surprised by this ap- 
 parition, which they were far from expect- 
 ing, fell back a few paces. Don Pablo pro- 
 lited by this truce to jump up and regain 
 possession of his arms, which had fallen by 
 his side. 
 
 " Was it not enough," the girl continued, 
 " to rob this man, that you must now try- 
 to take his life ? Fie, brothers ! Do you 
 not know that blood leaves on the hands of 
 him who spills it stains which nothing can 
 efface ? Let this man retire in peace." 
 
 The young men hesitated. Although un- 
 consciously yielding to their sister's influ- 
 ence, they were ashamed of thus executing 
 her wishes. Still they did not dare express 
 their thoughts, and merely bent on their 
 enemy, who awaited them with a firm foot 
 and pistols in hand, glances laden with ha- 
 tred and anger. 
 
 "Ellen is right," the youngest of her 
 brothers suddenly said. " No, 1 will not al- 
 low any harm to be done the stranger." 
 
 The others looked at him savagely. 
 
 " You would defend him, if necessary, I 
 suppose, Shaw ?" Nathan said to him, ironi- 
 cally. 
 
 "Why should I not, were it required?" 
 the young man said, boldly. 
 
 "Eh!' r Sutter remarked with a grin, 
 "he is thinking of the Wood Eglantine." 
 
 This word had been scarce uttered ere 
 Shaw, with purpled face, contracted features, 
 and eyes injected with blood, rushed with 
 uplifted knife on his brother, who awaited 
 him firmly. The girl dashed between them. 
 
 "Peace, peace!" she shrieked in a pierc- 
 ing voice. " Do brothers dare threaten one 
 another?" 
 
 The two young fellows remained motion- 
 less, but watching, and ready to strike in a 
 moment. Don Pablo fixed an ardent glance 
 on the girl, who was really admirable at this 
 moment. With her features animated by 
 anger, her head erect, and her arms stretch- 
 ed out between the two men, she bore a 
 startling likeness to those Druidesses who 
 in olden times summoned the warriors to 
 combat beneath the forests of Germany. 
 
 In her whole person she offered the com- 
 
 S'ete type of the gentle Northern woman, 
 er hair light and golden like ripe corn; 
 her eyes of extreme purity, which reflected 
 the azure of the sky ; her earnest mouth, 
 with rosy lips and pearly teeth ; her flexible 
 and small waist ; the whiteness of her com- 
 plexion, whose delicate and transparent 
 skin still bore the flush of adolescence all 
 was combined in this charming maiden to 
 render her the most seductive creature im- 
 aginable. 
 
 Don Pablo, a stranger to this kind of 
 beauty, felt himself involuntarily attracted 
 toward the girl. Forgetting the reason 
 that had brought him to this spot, the dan- 
 ger he had incurred, and that which still 
 menaced him, he was fascinated and trem- 
 bling before this delicious apparition, fear- 
 ing at each instant to see it vanish like a vi- 
 sion, and not daring to turn his glance from 
 her, while he felt he had no strength left to 
 admire her. 
 
 This young creature, so frail and delicate, 
 formed a strange contrast with the tall stat- 
 ures and marked features of her brothers, 
 whose coarse and savage manners only ser?- 
 ed to highten the elegance and charm ex- 
 haled by her whole person. Still this scene 
 could not be prolonged, and must be ended 
 at once. The maiden walked toward Don 
 Pablo. 
 
 " Sir," she said to him with a soft smile, 
 " you have nothing more to fear from my 
 brothers ; you can mount your horse agaiu, 
 and set out, and no one will oppose your de- 
 parture." 
 
 The young man understood that he had no 
 pretext to prolong his stay at this spot ; he 
 therefore let his head sink, placed his pistols 
 in his holsters, leaped on his horse, and set 
 out with regret, and as slowly as possible. 
 
 He had scarce gone a league when he 
 heard the hasty clatter of a horse behind 
 him. He turned back. The approaching 
 horseman was Shaw, wh,o soon caught up to 
 
TKB BQUATTBR& HUT. 
 
 17 
 
 the other. The pair then proceeded some 
 distance side by side without exchanging a 
 syllable, and both seemed plunged in pro- 
 found thought. On reaching the skirt of 
 the forest, Shaw checked his horse, and 
 softly laid his right hand on the Mexican's 
 bridle. Don Pablo also stopped on this 
 hint, and waited, while fixing an inquiring 
 glance on his strange comrade. 
 
 "Stranger," the young man said, "my 
 sister sends me. She implores you, if it be 
 possible, to keep secret what occurred be- 
 tween us to-day. She deeply regrets the at- 
 tack to which you fell a victim, and the 
 wound you have received ; and she will try 
 to persuade Red Cedar, our father, to retire 
 from your estates." 
 
 "Thank your sister for me," Don Pablo 
 answered. " Tell her that her slightest 
 wish will be ever a command to me, and 
 that I shall be happy to execute it." 
 'I will repeat your words to her." 
 
 Thanks. Rendtr me a parting ser- 
 vice." 
 
 Speak." 
 
 What is your sister's name ?" 
 ' Ellen. She is the guardian angel of our 
 hearth. My name is Shaw." 
 
 "I am obliged to you for telling me your 
 name, though I can not guess the reason 
 that induces you to do so." 
 
 "I will tell you. I love my sister Ellen 
 before all : she urged me to offer you my 
 friendship. I obey her. Remember, stran- 
 ger, that Shawls yours to the death." 
 
 " I shall not forget it, though I hope never 
 to be under the necessity of reminding you 
 of your words." 
 
 "All the worse," the American said with 
 a shake of his head; "but if at anytime 
 the opportunity offers, I will prove to you 
 that I am a man of my word, so surely as I 
 am a Kentuckian." 
 
 And hurriedly turning his horse's head, 
 the young man rapidly disappeared in the 
 windings of the forest. 
 
 Buffalo Valley, illumined by the parting 
 rays of the setting sun, seemed a lake of 
 verdure to which the golden mists of night 
 imparted magical tones. A light breeze 
 rustled through the lofty crests of the ce- 
 dars, catalpas, tulip and Peru trees, and agi- 
 tated the grass. Don Pablo let the reins 
 float idly on his horse's neck, and advanced 
 dreamily through the forest, where the birds 
 were leaping from spray to spray, each salut- 
 ing in its language the arrival of night. 
 
 An hour later the young man reached 
 home ; but the wound he nad received in 
 his shoulder was more serious than at first 
 supposed. He was obliged, to his great re- 
 gret, to keep his bed, which prevented him 
 seeking to meet again the maiden whose im- 
 age was deeply engraven on his heart. 
 
 So soon as the owner had gone off, the 
 squatters continued felling trees and sawing 
 planks, and did not abandon this work till 
 the night had grown quite black. Ellen 
 
 had returned to the interior of the housfe, 
 where she attended to the housekeeping du- 
 ties with her mother. This was a wretched 
 hut, hastily made with branches of inter- 
 twined trees, which trembled with every 
 breeze, and let the sun and rain penetrate to 
 the interior. 
 
 This cabin was divided into three com- 
 partments : the one to the right served as 
 the bedroom of the two females, while the 
 men slept in the one to the left. The cen- 
 tral compartment, furnished with worm-eat- 
 en benches and a clumsily-planed, table, was 
 at once keeping-room and kitchen. 
 
 It was late: the squatters, assembled 
 round the fire, over which a huge iron pot was 
 boiling, were silently awaiting the return of 
 Red Cedar, who had been absent since the 
 morning. At length a horse's hoofs sound- 
 ed on the detritus collected for years on the 
 floor of the forest, the noise grew gradually 
 nearer, the horse stopped in front of the 
 hut, and a man made his appearance. It 
 was Red Cedar. The men slowly turned 
 their heads toward him, but did not other- 
 wise disturb themselves, or address a syllable 
 to him. 
 
 Ellen alone rose and embraced her father 
 affectionately. The giant seized the girl in 
 his nervous arms, raised her from the ground, 
 and kissed her several times, saying in his 
 rough voice, which his tenderness sensibly 
 softened : 
 
 " Good-evening, my dear." 
 
 Then he put her down on the ground again, 
 and not troubling himself further about 
 her, fell heavily on a bench, and thrust his 
 feet toward the fire. 
 
 " Come, wife," he said, after the expiration 
 of a moment, " the supper, in the fiend's 
 name ! I have a coyote's hunger." 
 
 The wife did not let this be repeated. A 
 few moments later a huge dish of fried pork 
 with beans smoked on the table, with large 
 pots of coffee. The meal was short and si- 
 lent, the four men eating with extreme ra- 
 pacity. So soon as the beans had disap- 
 peared, Red Cedar and his sons lit their pipes 
 and began smoking, though still not speak- 
 ing. At length Red Cedar took his pipe 
 from his lips, and hit the table sharply, 
 while saying, in a rough voice.: 
 
 "Come, women, decamp ! You have noth- 
 ing more to do here. You are in our way, 
 sojgo to the deuce !" 
 
 Ellen and her mother immediately went 
 out, and entered their separate apartment. 
 For a few minutes they could be heard mov- 
 ing^ about, and then all became silent again. 
 
 Red Cedar made a sign, and Sutter rose 
 and gently put his ear to the parting board. 
 He listened for a few moments while holding 
 his breath, and then returned to his seat, 
 saying laconically : 
 
 "They are asleep." 
 
 " Quick, my whelps !" the old squatter 
 said, in a low voice. " We have not a min- 
 ute to lose ; the others are expecting us." 
 
THB TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 A curious se*ne then occurred in this 
 mean room, which was nearly illumined by 
 the expiring light of the hearth. The four 
 men rose, opened a large chest, and pro- 
 duced from it various objects of strange 
 shapes leggings, mittens, buffalo-robes, col- 
 lars of gri/.zly bear claws ; in a word, the 
 complete costume of Apache Indians. 
 
 The squatters disguised themselves as 
 red-skins ; and when they had put on their 
 garments, which rendered it impossible to 
 recognize them, they completed the meta- 
 morphosis by painting their faces of differ- 
 ent colors. 
 
 Assuredly the traveler whom accident 
 had brought at this moment to the hut 
 would have fancied it inhabited by Apaches 
 or Comanches. 
 
 The garments which the squatters had 
 taken off were locked up in the chest, of 
 which Red Cedar took the key; and the 
 four men, armed with their American rifles, 
 left the cabin, mounted their horses, which 
 were awaiting them ready saddled, and 
 started at full gallop through the winding 
 forest-paths. 
 
 At the moment they disappeared in the 
 gloom Ellen stood in the doorway of the 
 cabin, took a despairing glance in the di- 
 rection where they had gone, and fell to the 
 ground, murmuring sadly : 
 
 " Good Heaven ! what diabolical work are 
 they going to perform this night ?" 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TELE KANGEBS. 
 
 ON the banks of the Rio San Pedro, and 
 on the side of a hill, stood a village com- 
 posed of some ten cabins, inhabited by a 
 population of sixty persons at the most, in- 
 cluding men, women, and children. These 
 people were Coras Indians, hunters and 
 agriculturists, belonging to the Tortoise 
 tribe. These poor Indians lived there on 
 terms of peace with their neighbors, under 
 the protection of the Mexican laws. Quiet 
 and inoffensive beings, during the nearly 
 twenty years they had been established at 
 this place they had never once offered a sub- 
 ject of complaint to their neighbors, who, 
 on the contrary, were glad to see them pros- 
 per, owing to their gentle and hospitable 
 manners. 
 
 On the night when we saw the squatters 
 leave their cabin in disguise, some twenty 
 individuals, armed to the teeth, and clothed 
 in strange costume, with their faces black- 
 ened so as to render them unrecognizable, 
 were bivouacked at about two leagues from 
 the village, in a plain on a river's bank. 
 Seated or lying round huge fires, they were 
 singing, laughing, quarreling, or gambling, 
 with multitudinous yells and oaths. Two 
 men, seated apart at the foot of an enor- 
 mous cactus, were conversing in a low tone, 
 
 while smoking their husk cigarettes. These 
 two men, of whom we have already spoken 
 te the reader, were Fray Ambrosio, chaplain 
 to the farm, and Andres Garote, the hunter. 
 
 Andres was a tall, thin fellow, with a sick- 
 ly and cunning face, who draped himself 
 defiantly in his sordid rags, but whose 
 weapons were in a perfectly good condition. 
 
 Who were the men causing this disturb- 
 ance? They were " rangers , but this re- 
 quires explanation. 
 
 Immediately after each of the different 
 revolutions which have periodically over- 
 turned Mexico since that country so pomp- 
 ously declared its independence, the first 
 care of the new President who reaches 
 power is to dismiss the volunteers who had 
 accidentally swollen the ranks of his army, 
 and supplied him the means of overthrowing 
 his predecessor. These sanguinary men, 
 without religion or law, who have no re- 
 lations or friends, are an utter leprosy to the 
 country. 
 
 No longer able to wage war on their 
 countrymen, they form free corps, and en- 
 gage themselves for a certain salary, to hunt 
 the Indios Bravos that is to say, the Apa- 
 ches and Comanches who desolate the 
 Mexican frontiers. In addition to this, the 
 paternal government of North America in 
 Texas, and of Mexico in the States of the 
 Confederation, allots them a certain sum 
 for each Indian scalp they bring in. 
 
 The men assembled at this moment on the 
 banks of the river were preparing for a war- 
 party the name they give to the massacres 
 they organize against the red-skins. 
 
 Toward midnight Red Cedar and his three 
 sons reached the rangers' camp. They 
 must have been impatiently expected, for 
 the bandits received them with marks of 
 the greatest joy and the warmest enthusiasm. 
 The dice and cards were immediately de- 
 serted. The rangers mounted their horses, 
 and grouped round the squatters, near whom 
 stood Fray Ambrosio and his friend Andres 
 Garote. 
 
 Red Cedar took a glance round the mob, 
 and could not repress a smile of pride at the 
 sight of the rich collection of bandits of 
 every description whom he had around him, 
 and who recognized him as chief. He ex- 
 tended his arm to command peace. When 
 all were silent the giant took the word. 
 
 " Comrades," he said, in a powerful and 
 marked voice, "the audacity of the red- 
 skins is growing intolerable. If we let them 
 alone they would soon inundate the country, 
 when they would end by expelling us. This 
 state of things must have an end. I have 
 assembled you here for a war-party, which 
 1 have been meditating for some time, and 
 shall carry out this night. We are about to 
 attack the Coras, who for some years past 
 have had the impudence to establish them- 
 selves near this spot. They are pagans and 
 thieves, who have one hundred times merit- 
 ed the severe chastisement we are about to 
 
A 80ENE 'OF CARNAGE. 
 
 19 
 
 inflict on them. But I implore you, dis- 
 play no mistaken pity. Crush this race of 
 vipers let not one escape ! The scalp of a 
 child is worth as much as that of a man ; 
 *o do not let yourselves be moved by cries or 
 tears, but scalp, scalp to the end." 
 This harangue was greeted by yells of 
 
 ,y. 
 
 Red Cedar then whispered a few words in 
 Fray Ambrosio's ears, who bowed his head 
 in assent, and immediately set out in the 
 direction of the Coras villages, followed by 
 Andres Garote. The squatter then turned 
 to the rangers, who were awaiting his or- 
 ders. 
 
 " You know where we are going, men," 
 he said. " Let us start, and before all, be 
 silent, if we wish to catch our game in its 
 lair ; for you know that the Indians are as 
 cunning as opossums." 
 
 The band started at a gallop, Red Cedar 
 and his sons being at their head. It was 
 one of those calm nights which* predispose 
 the soul to reverie, such as America alone 
 has the privilege of possessing. The dark- 
 blue sky was spangled with an infinite num- 
 ber of stars, in the center of which shone 
 the majestic Southern Cross, sparkling like 
 a king's mantle. 
 
 The gloomy horsemen still went on, silent 
 and frowning, like the phantoms of the an- 
 cient legends, which glide through the 
 shadows to accomplish a deed without a 
 name. At the end of scarce an hour the 
 doomed settlement was reached. All were 
 resting in the village not a light flashed in 
 a hut. The Indians, wearied with the hard 
 toil of the day, were reposing, full of confi- 
 dence in the sworn faith, and apprehending 
 no treason. 
 
 Red Cedar halted twenty yards away, and 
 drew up his horsemen so as to surround the 
 village on all sides. When each had taken 
 his post, and the torches were lighted, Red 
 Cedar uttered the terrible war-cry of the 
 Apaches, and the rangers galloped at full 
 speed on the village, uttering ferocious 
 howls, and brandishing the torches, which 
 they threw on the cabins. 
 
 A scene of carnage then took place which 
 the human pen is powerless to describe. 
 The unhappy Indians, surprised in their 
 sleep, rushed terrified and half-naked out of 
 their poor abodes, and were pitilessly mas- 
 sacred and scalped by the rangers. The vil- 
 lage, fired by the rangers' torches, soon be- 
 came an immense funeral pile, in which 
 victims and murderers were huddled pell- 
 mell. 
 
 Still a few Indians had succeeded in col- 
 lecting. Forming in a compact troop of 
 twenty men, they opposed a desperate re- 
 sistance to their assassins. At the head of 
 this band was a half-nude, tall Indian of in- 
 telligent features, who, with a plowshare, 
 which he wielded with extreme force and 
 skill, felled all the assailants who came with- 
 in reach of his terrible weapon. This man 
 
 was the chief of the Coras. At his feet lay 
 his mother, wife, and two children dead. 
 The unhappy man struggled with the en- 
 ergy of despair. He knew his life would be 
 sacrificed, but he wished to sell it as dearly 
 as possible. 
 
 In vain had the rangers fired on the chief- 
 he seemed invulnerable : not one of the 
 bullets had struck him. He still fought, 
 and the weight of his weapon did not seem 
 to fatigue his arm. The rangers excited 
 each other to finish him ; but not one dared 
 to approach him. 
 
 But this combat of giants could not en- 
 dure longer. Of the twenty companions he 
 had round him on commencing the struggle 
 the chief now only saw two or three upright : 
 the rest were dead. There must be an end. 
 The circle that inclosed the hapless Indian 
 drew closer and closer. Henceforth it was 
 only a question of time with him. The ran- 
 gers, recognizing the impossibility of con- 
 quering this lion-hearted man, had ehanged 
 their tactics : they no longer attacked him, 
 but contented themselves with forming an 
 impassable circle round him, waiting pru- 
 dently for the moment when the strength of 
 the prey, which could not escape them, 
 was exhausted, in order to rush upon 
 him. 
 
 The Coras understood the intention of 
 his enemies. A contemptuous smile con- 
 tracted his haughty lips, and he rushed res- 
 olutely toward these men who recoiled be- 
 fore him. Suddenly, with a movement quick- 
 er than thought, he threw with extraordi- 
 nary strength the plowshare among the 
 rangers, and bounding like a panther, leap- 
 ed on a horse, and clutched its rider with 
 superhuman vigor. 
 
 Ere the rangers had recovered .from the 
 surprise this unforeseen attack occasioned in 
 them, by a desperate effort, and still holding 
 the horseman, the chieftain drew from his 
 girdle a short, sharp knife, which he buried 
 up to the hilt in the flanks of the horse. 
 The animal uttered a shriek of pain, rushed 
 headlong into the crowd, and bore both 
 away with maddening speed. 
 
 The rangers, rendered furious at being 
 played with by a single man, and seeing 
 their most terrible enemy escape them, 
 started in pursuit; but with his liberty the 
 Coras had regained all his energy : he felt 
 himself saved. In spite of the "desperate 
 efforts the rangers made to catch him up, 
 he disappeared in the darkness. 
 
 The chief continued to fly till he felt the 
 horse tottering under him. He had not 
 loosed his hold of the horseman, who was 
 half strangled by the rude embrace, and 
 both rolled on the ground. This man wore 
 the costume of the Apache Indians. The 
 Coras regarded him for an instant attentive- 
 ly, and then a smile of contempt played 
 round his lips. 
 
 "You are not a red-skin," he said in a 
 hollow voice ; " you are only a pale-free dog. 
 
TBS SILEHT-HUtfTEK. 
 
 Why put on the skin of the lion when you 
 are a cowardly coyote?" 
 
 The ranger, still stunned by the fall he 
 had suffered, and the hug he had endured, 
 did not reply. 
 
 41 1 could kill you," the Indian continued ; 
 " but my vengeance would not be complete. 
 You and yours must pay me for all the inno- 
 cent blood you have shed like cowards this 
 night. I will mark you, so that I may know 
 you again." 
 
 Then, with fearful coolness, the Coras 
 threw the ranger on his back, put his knee 
 on his chest, and burying his finger in the 
 pocket of his eye, gave it a sharp rotatory 
 movement, and plucked out his eye-ball. 
 On this frightful mutilation the wretch ut- 
 tered a cry of pain impossible to describe. 
 The Indian got up. 
 
 " Go !" he said to him. " Now I am cer- 
 tain of finding you whenever I want you." 
 
 At this moment the sound of hoofs could 
 be heard a short distance off: the rangers 
 had evidently heard their comrade's cry, and 
 were hurrying to his aid. The Coras rushed 
 into the bushes and disappeared. A few 
 moments later the rangers came up. 
 
 " Nathan, my son !'' Red Cedar shouted, 
 as he leaped from his horse and threw him- 
 self on the body of the wounded. " Nathan, 
 my first-born, is dead!" 
 
 " No," one of the rangers answered ; "but 
 he ic very bad." 
 
 It was really the squatter's eldest son 
 whom the chief had mutilated. Red Cedar 
 seized him in his arms, placed him before 
 him on the saddle, and the band started 
 again at a gallop. The rangers had accom- 
 plished their task : they had sixty human 
 scalps hanging from their girdles. The vil- 
 lage of the Coras was no longer aught save 
 a pile of ashes. 
 
 Of all the inhabitants only the chief sur- 
 vived ; but he would suffice to avenge his 
 brothers. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE VALLEY OF TUB BUFFALO. 
 
 DON MIGUEL ZARATE, on leaving his son, 
 remounted his horse and rode straight to 
 Paso, to the house of Don Luciano Perez, 
 the police magistrate. 
 
 The worthy Don Luciano shuddered on 
 hearing the details of what had occurred 
 between Don Pablo and the squatters. He at 
 once buckled on his sword, gave orders to 
 ten well-armed men to mount, and pla- 
 cing himself at the head of this numerous 
 escort, he proceeded toward Buffalo Val- 
 ley. 
 
 Don Miguel had witnessed with secret 
 annoyance all these formidable preparations. 
 He placed but slight confidence in the cour- 
 age of the policemen, and he would have 
 preferred the sheriff leaving him master to 
 act as be pleased. 
 
 Don Luciano Perea was a plump little 
 man of about sixty years of age, round as a 
 tub, with a jolly face, adorned with a rubi- 
 cund nose and two cunning little eyes. Thft 
 little band set out at a canter, and proceeded 
 rapidly toward the forest. The sheriff hurl- 
 ed fire and flames at the audacious usurpers, 
 as he called them : he spoke of nothing less 
 than killing them without mercy, if they at- 
 tempted even the slightest resistance to the 
 orders he was about to give them. Don 
 Miguel, who was much calmer, and foreboded 
 no good from this great wrath, sought in 
 vain to pacify him by telling him that he 
 would in all probability have to do with 
 men difficult to intimidate, against whom 
 coolness would be the best weapon. 
 
 Don Miguel, in order to shorten the jour- 
 ney, led the band by a cross-road, which 
 saved at least one-third the distance ; and 
 the first trees of the forest already appeared 
 about twp miles off. The mischief pro- 
 duced by the squatters was much more con- 
 siderable than Don Pablo had represented 
 to his father; and, at the first glance, it 
 seemed impossible that, in so short a time, 
 four men, even though working vigorously, 
 could have accomplished it. The finest 
 trees lay on the ground : enormous piles of 
 planks were arranged at regular distances, 
 and on the river an already completed raft 
 only awaited a few mofe stems of trees to 
 be thrust into the water. 
 
 Don Miguel could not refrain from sigh- 
 ing at the sight of the devastation commit- 
 ted in one of his best forests ; but the near- 
 er they approached the spot where they 
 expected to meet the squatters, the more 
 lukewarm grew the warlike zeal of the 
 sheriff and his aids, and Don Miguel soon 
 found himself compelled to urge them on, 
 instead of restraining them as he had hither- 
 to done. Suddenly the sound of an ax re- 
 echoed a few paces ahead of the band. The 
 sheriff, impelled by the feeling of his duty, 
 and shame of appearing frightened, advanced 
 boldly in the direction of the sound, followed 
 by his escort. 
 
 "Stop!" a rough voice shouted, at the 
 moment the policemen turned the corner 
 of a lane. 
 
 Ten paces from them stood a man in the 
 center of the ride, leaning on an American 
 rifle. The sheriff' turned to Don Miguel 
 with such an expression of hesitation and 
 honest terror that he could not refrain from 
 laughing. 
 
 "Come, courage, Don Luciano!" he said 
 to him. " This man is alone : he can not 
 venture to bar our passage." 
 
 "Forward!" the sheriff exclaimed, 
 ashamed of this impression which he could 
 not master, and frowning portentously, 
 *' forward, you fellows, and fire on that 
 scoundrel if he make but a sign to resist 
 you." 
 
 The men set out again with prudential 
 hesitation. 
 
A VALIANT SHERIFF. 
 
 "Stop! I tell you again," the squatter 
 repeated. " Did you not hear the order I 
 gave you?" 
 
 The sheriff, reassured by the presence of 
 the proprietor, then advanced, and said 
 with a tone which he strove to render ter- 
 rible, but which was only ridiculous through 
 the terror he revealed : 
 
 u I, Don Luciano Perez, of the town of 
 Paso, have come, by virtue of the powers 
 delegated to me by the Government, to 
 summon you and your adherents to quit 
 within twenty-four hours this forest you 
 have illegally entered, and which " 
 
 " Ta, ta!" the stranger shouted, rudely 
 interrupting him, and stamping his foot 
 savagely. "I care as much for all your 
 words and laws as I do for an old moccasin. 
 The ground belongs to the first comers. 
 We are comfortable here, and mean to re- 
 main." 
 
 " Your language is very bold, young man," 
 Don Miguel then said. " You do not con- 
 sider that you are alone, and that, failing 
 other rights, we have strength on our side. 
 
 The squatter burst into a laugh. 
 
 "You believe that," he said. "Learn, 
 stranger, that I care as little for the ten 
 humbugs I now have before me as I do for 
 a woodcock, and that they will do well to 
 leave me at peace, unless they want to learn 
 the weight of my arm at their expense. 
 However, here is my father : settle it with 
 him." 
 
 And he began carelessly whistling " Yan- 
 kee Doodle." At the same instant three 
 men, at the head of whom was Red Cedar, 
 appeared on the path. At the sight of 
 these unexpected reinforcements for their 
 arrogant enemy, the sheriff made a move- 
 ment in retreat. The affair was becoming 
 complicated, and threatened to assume pro- 
 portions very grave for them. 
 
 "Hallo ! what's up?" the old man asked, 
 roughly. "Any thing wrong, Sutter?" 
 
 " Thesepeople," the young man answered, 
 shrugging his shoulders, contemptuously, 
 " are talking about driving us from the 
 forest by virtue of some order." 
 
 " Hallo!" Red Cedar said, his eyes flash- 
 ing as he cast a savage glance at the Mexi- 
 cans. "The only law I recognize in the 
 desert," he continued, with a gesture of 
 terrible energy, as he struck his rifle- barrel, 
 "is this. Withdraw, strangers, if you do 
 not wish blood to be shed between us. I am 
 a peaceful man, wishing to do no one a 
 hurt; but I warn you that I will not allow 
 myself to be kicked out without striking.a 
 blow." 
 
 " You will not be turned out," the sheriff 
 remarked, timidly; "on the contrary, you 
 have seized on what belongs to other 
 people." 
 
 "I won't listen to your arguments, which 
 I do not understand," the squatter rough- 
 ly exclaimed. "God gave the ground to 
 man that he might labor on it. Every 
 
 proprietor who does not fulfill tUla condi- 
 tion tacitly renounces hia rights, and the 
 earth then becomes the property of tku 
 man who tills it with the sweat of his brow. 
 Be off at full speed, if you do not wish 
 harm to happen to you!" 
 
 " We will not suffer ourselves to be in- 
 timidated b} r your threats," the sheriff said, 
 impelled by his onger, and forgetting for a 
 moment his alarm; "we will do our duty, 
 whatever may happen." 
 
 " Try it," Red Cedar said, with a grin. 
 
 And he made a sign to his sons. The 
 latter arranged themselves in a single line, 
 and occupied the entire width of the 
 path. 
 
 "In the name of the law," the sheriff 
 said, with energy, as he pointed out the 
 old man, " men seize that person." 
 
 But, as so frequently happens under simi- 
 lar circumstances, this order was more easy 
 to give thaa to execute. Red Cedar and 
 his sona did not appear at all disposed to let 
 themselves be collared. 
 
 " For the last time, will you be off?" the 
 squatter shouted. "Let them have it." 
 
 His three sons raised their rifles. At this 
 movement, which removed all doubts that 
 might still remain on their minds, and 
 which proved to them that the squatters 
 would not hesitate to proceed to extremi- 
 ties, the sheriff and his aids were seized 
 with an invincible terror. They turned 
 bridle and galloped off at full speed, fol- 
 lowed by the yells of the squatters. 
 
 One man alone remained motionless be- 
 fore them Don Miguel Zarate. Red Cedar 
 had not recognized him, either owing to 
 the distance that separated them, or be- 
 cause the proprietor had purposely pulled 
 over his eyes his broad -brimmed hat. Don 
 Miguel dismounted, placed the pistols from 
 his holsters through his belt, fastened his 
 horse to a tree, and coolly throwing his 
 rifle across his shoulders, boldly advanced 
 toward the squatters. The latter, sur- 
 prised by the courage of this man, who 
 alone attempted what his comrades had giv- 
 en up all hopes of achieving, let him come 
 up to them without offering the slightest 
 opposition. When a couple of paces from 
 the old squatter, he stopped, put the butt 
 of his rifle on the ground, and removing 
 his hat, said : 
 
 " Do you recognize me, Red Cedar ?" 
 
 "Don Miguel Zarate!" the bandit shouted, 
 in surprise. 
 
 "As the sheriff deserts me," the pro- 
 prietor continued, " and fled like a coward 
 before your threats, I am obliged to take 
 justice for myself, and I will do so ! Red 
 Cedar, I, as owner of this forest, in which 
 youjiave settled without permission, order 
 you to depart at once." 
 
 The young men exchanged a few mutter- 
 ed threats. 
 
 "Silence !" Re4 Cedar commanded. "Let 
 the man speak." 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " I have finished, and await your answer." 
 
 The sqnatter appeared to reflect deeply 
 for a few minutes. 
 
 4 'The answer you demand is difficult to 
 give," he at length said: "my position 
 toward you is not a free one." 
 
 " Why so ?" 
 
 " Because I owe you my life." 
 
 " I dispense you from all gratitude." 
 
 " That is possible. You are at liberty to 
 do so ; but I can not forget the service you 
 rendered me." 
 
 " It is of little consequence." 
 
 " Much more than you fancy. I may be, 
 through my character, habits, and mode of 
 life I lead, beyond the law of civilized be- 
 ings ; but I am not the less a man, and if 
 of the worst sort, perhaps, I do no more 
 forget a kindness than I do an insult." 
 
 " Prove it, then, by going away as quickly 
 as you can, and then we shall be quits." 
 
 The squatter shook his head. 
 
 "Listen to me, Don Miguel," he said. 
 " You have in this country the reputation 
 of being the providence of the unfortunate. 
 I know from myself the extent of your 
 kindness and courage. It is said that you 
 possess an immense fortune, of which you 
 do not yourself know the extent." 
 
 "Well, what then?" the haciendero im- 
 patiently interrupted him. 
 
 "The damage I can commit here, even if 
 I cut down all the trees in the forest, would 
 be but a trifle to you: then whence comes 
 the fury you display to drive me out ?" 
 
 "Your question is just, and I will answer 
 it. I demand your departure from my es- 
 tates because, only a few days back, my son 
 was grievously wounded by your lads, who 
 led him into a cowardly snare ; and if he es- 
 caped death, it was only through a miracle. 
 That is the reason why we can not live side 
 by side, for blood severs us." 
 
 Red Cedar frowned. 
 
 " Is this true ?" he said, addressing his 
 sons. 
 
 The young men only hung their heads in 
 reply. 
 
 " I am waiting," Don Miguel went on. 
 
 "Come, the question can not be settled 
 thus, so we will proceed to my cabin." 
 
 " For what purpose ? I ask you for a yes 
 or a no." 
 
 "I can not answer you yet. We must 
 have a conversation together, after which 
 you shall decide as to my future conduct. 
 Follow me, then, without fear." 
 
 " I fear nothing, as I believe I have proved 
 to you. Go on, as you demand it ; I will fol- 
 low you." 
 
 Red Cedar made his sons a sign to remain 
 where they were, and proceeded with long 
 strides toward his hut, which was but a 
 short distance off. Don Miguel wiflked 
 carelessly after him. They entered the 
 cabin. It was deserted. The two females 
 were doubtless also occupied in the forest. 
 Bed Cedar closed the doer after him, eat 
 
 down on a bench, made his guest a sign to 
 do the same, and began speaking in a low 
 and measured voice, as if afraid what he 
 had to say might be heard outside. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ASSASSINATION. 
 
 " LISTEN to me, Don Miguel," Red Cedar 
 said, " and pray do not mistake my meaning. 
 I have not the slightest intention of intimi- 
 dating you, nor do I think of attempting to 
 gain your confidence by revelations which 
 you may fairly assume I have accidentally 
 acquired." 
 
 The proprietor regarded with amazement 
 the speaker, whose tone and manner had so 
 suddenly changed. 
 
 " I do uot understand you," he said to him. 
 " Explain yourself more clearly, for the 
 words you have just uttered are an enigma, 
 the key to which I seek in vain." 
 
 "You shall be satisfied; and if you do 
 not catch the meaning of my words tiiis 
 time it must be because you will not. Like 
 all intelligent men, you are wearied of the 
 incessant struggles in which the vital 
 strength of your country is exhausted un- 
 profitably. you have seen that a land so 
 rich, so fertile, so gloriously endowed as 
 Mexico, could not 1 should say ought not 
 to remain longer the plaything of paltry 
 ambitions, and tlie arena on which all these 
 transitory tyrannies sport in turn. For near- 
 ly thirty years you have dreamed of emanci- 
 pation, not of your entire country, for that 
 would be too rude a task, and unrealizable ; 
 but you said to yourself, ' Let ue render New 
 Mexico independent; form it into a new 
 State, governed by wise laws rig'orousiy exe- 
 cuted. By liberal institutions let us give an 
 impetus to all the riches with which it is 
 choked, give intellect all the liberty it re- 
 quires, and perhaps within a few years the 
 entire Mexican Confederation, amazed by 
 the magnificent results I shall obtain, will 
 follow my example. Then I shall die happy 
 at what I have effected my object will be 
 carried out. I shall have saved my country 
 from the abyss over which it hangs, through 
 the double pressure of the American Union 
 and the exhaustion of the Spanish race.' 
 Are not those ideas yours, caballero ? Do 
 you consider that I have explained myself 
 clearly this time ?" 
 
 "Perhaps so, though I do not yet see 
 distinctly the point you wish to reach. The 
 thoughts you attribute to me are such 
 as naturally occur to all men who sincerely 
 love their country, and I will not pretend 
 that I have not entertained them." 
 
 " You would be wrong in doing so, for 
 they are great and noble, and breathe the 
 purest patriotism." 
 
 "A truce to compliments, and let us coma 
 to the point, for time presses." 
 
THE TWO CONSPIRATORS. 
 
 "Patience: I have not yet ended. These 
 ideas must occur to you sooner than to 
 another, as you are the descendant of the 
 first Aztec kings, and horn defender of the 
 Indians in this hapless country. You see 
 that I am well acquainted with you, Don 
 Miguel Zarate." 
 
 < Y Too well, perhaps," the Mexican mut- 
 tered. 
 
 The squatter smiled and went on : 
 
 "It is not chance that led me to this 
 country. I knew what I was doing, and 
 why I came. Don Miguel, the hour is a sol- 
 emn one. All your preparations are made : 
 will you hesitate to give New Mexico the sig- 
 nal which must render it independent of the 
 metroplis which has so long been fattening 
 at its expense ? Answer inc." 
 
 Don Miguel started. He fixed on the 
 squatter a burning glance, in which admir- 
 ation at the man's language could be read. 
 Red Cedar shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " What ! do you still doubt ?" he said. 
 
 He rose, went to a box from which he 
 took some papers, and threw them on the 
 table before the haciendero, saying : 
 
 "Read." 
 
 Don Miguel hurriedly seized the papers, 
 and ran his eye over them. 
 
 "Well?" he asked, looking fixedly at the 
 strange speaker. 
 
 "You see," the squatter answered, "that 
 I am your accomplice. General Ibanez, 
 your agent in Mexico, is in correspondence 
 with me, as is Mr. Wood, your agent at New 
 York." 
 
 "It is true," the Mexican said coldly, 
 "you have the secret of the conspiracy. 
 The only point left is to what extent that 
 goes." 
 
 " I possess it entirely. I have orders to 
 enlist the volunteers who will form the nu- 
 cleus of the insurrectionary army." 
 
 "Good!" 
 
 "Now, you see, by these letters of Gene- 
 ral Ibanez and Mr. Wood, that lam commis- 
 sioned by them to come to an understanding 
 with you, and receive your final orders." 
 
 " I see it." 
 
 " What do you purpose doing ?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "What, nothing !" the squatter exclaim- 
 ed, bounding with surprise. " You are jest- 
 ing I suppose." 
 
 "Listen to me in your turn, and pay at- 
 tention to my words, for they express my ir- 
 revocable resolution. I know not, nor care 
 to know, by what means, more or less hon- 
 orable, you have succeeded in gaining the 
 confidence of my partners, and becoming 
 master of our secrets. Still it is my firm 
 conviction that a cause which employs such 
 men as yourself is compromised, hence I re- 
 nounce every combination in which you are 
 called to play a part. Your antecedents 
 and the life you lead, have placed you with- 
 out the pale of the law." 
 
 "I am a bandit out with it ! But what 
 
 matter so long as you succeed ? Does not 
 the end justify the means?" 
 
 " That may be your morality, but it will 
 never be mine. I repudiate all community 
 of ideas with men of your stamp. I will 
 not have you either as accomplice or part- 
 ner." 
 
 The squatter darted a look at him laden 
 with hatred and disappointment. 
 
 "In serving us," Don Miguel continued, 
 " you can only have an interested object, 
 which I will not take the trouble of guess- 
 ing at. An Anglo-American will never 
 frankly aid a Mexican to conquer his liberty: 
 he would lose too much by doing it." 
 
 "Then?" 
 
 " I renounce forever the projects I had 
 formed. I had, I grant, dreamed of restor- 
 ing to my country the independence of 
 which it was unjustly stripped : but it shall 
 remain a dream." 
 
 " That is your last word ?" 
 
 " The last." 
 
 "You refuse?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " Good ; then I know now what is left 
 me to do." 
 
 "I am curious to learn it." 
 
 " However rich you may be, Don Miguel 
 Zarate, and perhaps because of those very 
 riches, and in spite of the kindness you 
 sow broadcast, the number of your enemies 
 is very considerable." 
 
 "I know it." 
 
 " Very good. Those enemies will joyfully 
 seize the first opportunity that presents it- 
 self to destroy you." 
 
 "It is probable." 
 
 "You see, then. When I go to the 
 Governor and tell him that you are conspir- 
 ing, and, in support of my denunciation, 
 hand him not only these letters, but several 
 others written and signed by you, lying in 
 that chest, do you believe that the Governor 
 will treat me as an impostor, and refuse to 
 arrest you?" 
 
 " Then you have letters in my hand- 
 writing?" 
 
 " I have three, which will be enough to 
 have you shot." 
 
 " Ah !" 
 
 "Yes. Hang it all! you understand that, 
 in an affair so importa'nt as this, it is wise 
 to take one's precautions, for no one knows 
 what may happen ; and men of my stamp," 
 he added with an ironical smile, " nave more 
 reasons than others for being prudent." 
 
 "Come, that is well played," the other 
 said, carelessly. 
 
 "Is it not?" 
 
 "Yes, and I compliment you on it: you 
 are a better player than I gave you credit 
 for." 
 
 " Oh ! you do not know me yet." 
 
 " The little I do know suffices me." 
 
 "Then?" 
 
 "We wDl remain as we are, if you will 
 permit me." 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " You Btill refuse ?" 
 
 " More than ever." 
 
 The squatter frowned. 
 
 "Take care, sir," he muttered, hoarsely. 
 " I will do what I told you." 
 
 " Yes, if I allow you the time." 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 "If you are a clever scamp, I am not 
 altogether a fool. Do you believe, in your 
 turn, that I will let myself be intimidated 
 by your threats, and that I should not find 
 means to keep you from acting V" 
 
 "lam curious to know the means you 
 will employ to obtain this result." 
 
 " You shall see," Don Miguel replied, with 
 perfect coolness. 
 
 The two men were seated in front of the 
 hearth, each at the end of a bench : the 
 table was between them, but a little back, 
 BO that while talking they only leaned an 
 elbow on it. While uttering the last word 
 Don Miguel bounded like a tiger on the 
 squatter, who did not at all expect the at- 
 tack, seized him by the throat, and hurled 
 him to the ground. The two enemies rolled 
 on the uneven flooring of the cabin. 
 
 The attack had been so sudden and well- 
 directed that the half-strangled squatter, 
 in spite of his Herculean strength, could 
 not free himself from his enemy's iron 
 clutch, which pressed his throat like a vice. 
 Red Cedar could neither utter a cry nor 
 offer the slightest resistance : the Mexican's 
 knee crushed his chest, while his fingers 
 pressed into his throat. 
 
 So soon as he had reduced the wretch to 
 utter impotence, Don Miguel drew from his 
 boot a long sharp knife, and buried the en- 
 tire blade in his body. The bandit writhed 
 convulsively for a few seconds ; a livid pallor 
 suffused his face ; his eyes closed, and he 
 then remained motionless. Don Miguel 
 left the weapon in the wound, and slowly 
 rose. 
 
 "Ah, ah!" he muttered, as he gazed at 
 him with a sardonic air, " I fancy that 
 rogue will not denounce me now." 
 
 Without loss of time he seized the letters 
 lying on the table, took from the box the 
 few documents he found in it, hid them all 
 in his bosom, opened the door of the cabin, 
 which he carefully closed after him, and 
 went off with long strides. 
 
 The squatter's sons had not quitted their 
 post : but soon as they perceived the Mexi- 
 can, they went up to him. 
 
 "Well," Shaw asked him, "have you 
 come to an understanding with the old man?" 
 
 "Perfectly so," was the laconic answer. 
 
 " Then the affair is settled ?" 
 
 "Yes, to our mutual satisfaction." 
 
 " All the better," the young men exclaim- 
 ed, joyously. 
 
 The proprietor unfastened his horse and 
 mounted. 
 
 "Good-by, gentlemen!" he said to them. 
 
 " Good-by !" they replied, returning his 
 bow. 
 
 He put his horse to a trot, but at the first 
 turn in the road he dug his spurs into its 
 flanks, and started at full speed. 
 
 " Now," Sutter observed, " I believe that 
 we can proceed to the cabin without incon- 
 venience." 
 
 And they walked toward the cabin, pleas- 
 antly conversing together. 
 
 Don Miguel, however, had not succeeded 
 so fully as he imagined. Red Cedar was 
 not dead, for the old bandit kept a firm hold 
 on life. Attacked unawares, the squatter 
 had not attempted a resistance, which he 
 saw at the first glance was useless, and 
 would only have exasperated his adversary. 
 But with marvelous sagacity, he stiffened 
 himself against the pain, and resolved on 
 "playing 'possum." The success of his 
 stratagem was complete. 
 
 So long as his enemy remained in the hut 
 the squatter was careful not to make the 
 slightest movement that might have be- 
 trayed him ; but, so soon as he was alone, 
 he opened his eyes, rose with an effort, drew 
 the dagger from the wound, and looking 
 at the door through which the Mexican 
 had departed with a glance so full of ha- 
 tred that it is impossible to describe, he 
 muttered : 
 
 " Now we are quits, Don Miguel Zarate, 
 since you have tried to take back the life 
 of him you saved. Pray God never to bring 
 us face to face again !" 
 
 He uttered a deep sigh, and rolled heavily 
 on the ground in a fainting-fit. At this 
 moment his sous entered the cabin. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE SACHEM OP THE CORAS. 
 
 A FEW days after the events we have de- 
 scribed in the previous chapter there was 
 one of those lovely mornings which are not 
 accorded to our cold climates to know. 
 The sun poured clown in profusion its warm 
 beams, which caused the pebbles and sand 
 to glisten in the walks of the garden of the 
 Farm. In a clump of flowering orange and 
 lemon trees, whose sweet exhalations per- 
 fumed the air, and beneath a copse of cac- 
 tus, nopals, and aloes, a maiden was asleep, 
 carelessly reclining in a hammock, which 
 hung between two orange trees. 
 
 With her head thrown back, her long 
 black hair unfastened, and falling in disor- 
 der on her neck and bosom ; with her coral 
 lips slightly parted, and displaying the daz- 
 zling pearl of her teeth, Clara (for it was she 
 who" slept thus with an infantile slumber) 
 was really charming. Her features breathed 
 happiness, for not a cloud had yet arisen to 
 perturb the azure horizon of her calm and 
 tranquil life. 
 
 It was nearly midday; there was not a 
 breath in the air. The sunbeams, pouring 
 down vertically, rendered the heat so stifling 
 
THE SLEEPING MAIDEX. 
 
 25 
 
 and un6Ui5portable, that every oue in the 
 house had yielded to sleep, and was enjoying 
 what is generally called in hot countries the 
 siesta. Still, at a short distance from the 
 spot where Clara reposed, calm and smiling, 
 a sound of footsteps, at first almost imper- 
 ceptible but gradually lightening, was heard, 
 and a man made his appearance. It was 
 Shaw, the youngest of the squatter's sons. 
 How was he at this spot ? 
 
 The young man was panting, and the per- 
 spiration poured down his cheeks. On reach- 
 ing the entrance of the clump he bent an 
 anxious glance on the hammock. 
 
 "She is there," he murmured with a pas- 
 sionate accent. " She sleeps." 
 
 Then he fell on his knees upon the sand, 
 and began admiring the maiden, dumb and 
 trembling. He remained thus a long time, 
 with his glance fixed on the slumberer with 
 a strange expression. At length he uttered 
 a sigh and tearing himself with an effort 
 from this delicious contemplation, he rose 
 sadly, muttering in a whisper : 
 
 "I must go if she were to awake oh, 
 she will never know how much I love 
 her!" 
 
 He plucked an orange-flower, and softly 
 laid it on the maiden ; then he walked a few 
 steps from her, but almost immediately re- 
 turning, he seized, with a nervous hand, 
 Clara's vail, which hung down from the 
 hammock, and pressed it to his lips several 
 times, saying, in a voice broken by the 
 emotion he felt : 
 
 "It has touched her hair." - 
 
 And rushing from the thicket, he crossed 
 the garden and disappeared. He had heard 
 footsteps approaching. In fact, a few sec- 
 onds after his departure, Don Miguel, in his 
 turn, entered the copse. 
 
 " Come, come," he said gayly, as he shook 
 the hammock, "sleeper, will you not have 
 finished your siesta soon ?" 
 
 Clara opened her eyes with a smile. 
 
 " I am no longer asleep, father," she 
 said. 
 
 " Very good. That is the answer I like." 
 
 And he stepped forward to kiss her ; but, 
 with a sudden movement, the maiden drew 
 herself back as if she had seen some fearful 
 vision, and her face was covered with a livid 
 pallor. 
 
 "What is the matter with you?" the 
 father exclaimed with terror. 
 
 The girl showed him the orange-flower. 
 
 " Well," her father continued, " what is 
 there so terrific in that flower ? It must 
 have fallen from the tree during your 
 sleep." 
 
 Clara shook her head sadly. 
 
 " No," she said; " for some days past I 
 have always noticed, on waking, a similar 
 flower thrown on me." 
 
 "You are absurd: chance alone is to 
 blame for it all. Come, think no more about 
 it: you are as pale as death, child. Why 
 frighten yourself thus about a trifle? Be- 
 
 sides, the remedy may be easily found. As 
 you are so afraid of 'flowers now, why not 
 take your siesta in your bedroom, instead of 
 burying yourself in this thicket ?" 
 
 " That is true, lather," the girl said, all 
 joyous, and no longer thinking of the fear 
 she had undergone. "I will follow your ad- 
 vice." 
 
 " Cornc, that is settled, so say no more 
 about it. Now give me a kiss." " 
 
 The maiden threw herself in her father's 
 arms, whom she stifled with kisses. Both 
 sat down on a grassy mound, and commenc- 
 ed one of those delicious chit-chats whoso 
 charm only those who are parents can prop- 
 erly appreciate. Presently a peon came 
 up. 
 
 "What has brought you ?" Don Miguel 
 asked. 
 
 " Excellency," the peon answered, " a 
 red-skin warrior has just arrived, who de- 
 sires speech with you." 
 
 " Do you know him ?" 
 
 " Yes, excellency ; it is Eagle-wing, the 
 sachem of the Coras." 
 
 " Eagle- wing !" the proprietor repeated 
 with surprise. " What can have brought him 
 to me ? Lead him here." 
 
 The peon retired, and in a few minutes re- 
 turned, preceding Eagle-wing. 
 
 The chief had donned the great war-dress 
 of the sachems of his nation. His hair, 
 plaited with the skin of a rattlesnake, was 
 drawn up on the top of his head : in the 
 center an eagle-plume was affixed. A blouse 
 of striped calico, adorned with a profusion 
 of bells, descended to his thighs, which 
 were defended from the stings of muske- 
 toes by drawers of the same stuff. He wore 
 moccasins made of peccary skin, adorned 
 with glass beads and porcupine-quills. To 
 his heels were fastened several wolves' tails, 
 the distinguishing mark of renowned war- 
 riors. Round his loins was a belt of elk- 
 hide, through which were passed his knife, 
 his pipe, and his medicine -bag. His neck 
 was adorned by a collar of grizzlj" bear-claws 
 and buffalo-teeth. Finally, a magnificent 
 robe of a white female buffalo-hide, painted 
 red inside, was fastened to his shoulders, 
 and fell down behind him like a cloak. In 
 his right hand he held a fan formed of a sin- 
 gle eagle's-wing, and in his left hand an 
 American rifle. There was something im- 
 posing and singularly martial in the appear- 
 ance and demeanor of this savage child of 
 the forest. 
 
 On entering the thicket he bowed grace- 
 fully to Clara, and then stood motionless 
 and dumb before Don Miguel. The Mexi- 
 can regarded him attentively, and saw an 
 expression of gloomy melancholy spread 
 over the Indian chiefs features. 
 
 " My brother is welcome," he said to him. 
 " To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing 
 him ?" 
 
 The chief cast a side glance at the maid- 
 en. Don Miguel understood what he 
 
THS 
 
 desired, and made Clara a sign to withdraw. 
 They remained alone. 
 
 " My brother can speak," the proprietor 
 then said; " the ears of a friend arc open." 
 
 "Yes, my father is ^ood," the chief re- 
 plied, in his guttural voice. " He loves the 
 Indians : unhappily all the pale-faces do not 
 resemble him." 
 
 " What does my brother mean? Has he 
 cause to complain of any one?" 
 
 The Indian smiled sadly. 
 
 "Where is there justice for the red- 
 ekins?" he said. "The Indians are ani- 
 mals : the Great Spirit has not given them a 
 soul, as he has done to the pale-faces, and 
 it is not a crime to kill them." 
 
 "Come, chief, pray do not speak longer 
 in riddles, but explain why you have quitted 
 your tribe ?" 
 
 "Mookapec is alone : his ti'ibe no longer 
 exists." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " The pale-faces came in the night, like 
 jaguars without courage. They burned the 
 village, and massacred all the inhabitants, 
 even to the women and little children." 
 
 "Oh, that is frightful !" his listener mur- 
 mured, in horror. 
 
 "Ah!" the chief continued, with an ac- 
 cent full of irony, "the scalps of the red- 
 skins are sold dearly." 
 
 " And do you know the men who commit- 
 ted this atrocious crime ?" 
 
 "Mookapec knows them, and will avenge 
 himself." 
 
 "Tell me their chief, if yon know his 
 name." 
 
 "I know it. The pale-faces call him Red- 
 Cedar, the Indians the Man-eater." 
 
 " Oh ! as for him, chief, you are avenged, 
 for he is dead." 
 
 " My father is mistaken." 
 
 " How so ? Why, I killed him myself." 
 
 The Indian shook his head. 
 
 "Red Cedar has a hard life," he said: 
 " the blade of the knife my father used was 
 too short. Red Cedar is wounded, but in 
 a few days he will be about again, ready to 
 kill and scalp the Indians." 
 
 This news startled the haciendero : the 
 enemy he fancied he had got rid of still 
 lived, and he wou.d have to begin a fresh 
 struggle. 
 
 " My father must take care," the chief 
 continued. "Red Cedar has sworn to be 
 avenged." 
 
 "Oh! I will not leave him the time. 
 This man is a demon, of whom the earth 
 must be purged at all hazards, before his, 
 strength has returned, and he begins his 
 assassinations again." 
 
 " I will aid my father in his vengeance." 
 
 "Thanks, chief. I do not refuse your 
 offer : perhaps I shall soon ne<Jd the help of 
 my friends. And now, what do you pro- 
 pose doing ?" 
 
 "Eagle- wing will retire to the desert. 
 He has friend* among the Comanchea. 
 
 They arc red-skins, and will welcome him 
 gladly." 
 
 " I will not strive to combat your deter- 
 mination, chief, for it is just; and if, at a 
 later date, you take terrible reprisals on the 
 white men, they will have no cause of com- 
 plaint, for they have brought it on them- 
 selves. When docs my brother start?" 
 
 "At simset." 
 
 "Rest here to-day: to-morrow will bo 
 soon enough to set out." 
 
 " Mookapec must depart this day." 
 
 " Act as you think proper. Have you a 
 horse?" 
 
 " No ; but at the first drove I come to I 
 will lasso one." 
 
 " I do not wish you to set out thus, but 
 will give you a horse." 
 
 "Thanks; my father is good. The Indian 
 chief will remember " 
 
 " Come, you shall choose for yourself." 
 
 "I have still a few words to say to my 
 father." 
 
 " Speak, chief ; I am listening to you." 
 
 "Koutonepi, the pale hunter, begged 
 me to give my father an important warn- 
 ing." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "A great danger threatens my father. 
 Koutonepi wishes to see him as soon as 
 possible, in order himself to tell him its 
 nature." 
 
 " Good ! My brother will tell the hunter 
 that I shall be to-morrow at the ' clearing 
 of the shattered oak,' and await him there 
 till night." 
 
 "I will repeat my father's words to the 
 hunter." 
 
 The two men then quitted the garden, 
 ixnd hurriedly proceeded toward the stables. 
 Don Miguel let the chief choose his own 
 horse, and while the sachem was harness- 
 ing his steed in the Indian fashion, he 
 withdrew to his bedroom, and sent for his 
 son to join him. The young man had per- 
 fectly recovered from his wound. His fath- 
 er told him that he was obliged to absent 
 liimself for some days : he intrusted to him 
 the management of the estate, while re- 
 commending him on no consideration to 
 leave the farm, and to watch attentively 
 over his sister. The young man promised 
 him all he wished, happy at enjoying per- 
 fect liberty for a few days. 
 
 After embracing his son and daughter, 
 Don Miguel proceeded to the yard, where, 
 in the meanwhile, the chief had been amu- 
 sing himself by making the magnificent 
 horse he had chosen curvet. He admired 
 for several moments the Indian's skill and 
 grace, for he managed a horse superbly ; 
 then mounted, and the two men proceeded 
 together toward the Paso del Norte, which 
 they must cross in order to enter the des- 
 ert, and reach the clearing of the shat- 
 tered oak. 
 
 The journey passed in silence, for the 
 two men were aeoply reflecting. ' At the 
 
THE THREE FRIENDS. 
 
 27 
 
 moment they entered the town the sun was 
 setting on the horizon in a bed of red mist, 
 which foreboded a storm for the night. At 
 the entrance of the village they separated ; 
 and on the morrow, as we have seen in our 
 first chapter, Don Miguel set out at day- 
 break, and galloped to the clearing. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 CONVERSATION. 
 
 VULENTINB GUILLOIS had traversed the 
 vast solitudes of Mexico and Texas during 
 the past five or six years. We saw him just 
 now accompanied by the Araucano chief. 
 These two men were the boldest hunters 
 on the frontier. At times, when they had 
 collected an ample harvest of furs, they 
 went to sell them in the villages, renewed 
 their stock of powder and ball, purchased 
 a few indispensable articles, and then re- 
 turned to the desert. 
 
 No one- knew who they were, or whence 
 they came. Valentine and his friend main- 
 tained the most complete silence as to the 
 events of their life which had preceded 
 their appearance in these parts. Only one 
 thing had betrayed the nationality of Valen- 
 tine, whom his comrade called Koutonepi, 
 a word belonging to the language of the 
 Aucas, and signifying " The Valiant." On 
 his chest the hunter wore the cross of the 
 Legion of Honor. 
 
 Chance had one day made them acquaint- 
 ed with Don Miguel Zarate under strange 
 circumstances, and since then an uninter- 
 rupted friendship had been maintained be- 
 tween them. Don Miguel, during a tempes- 
 tuous night, namely, had only owed his 
 life to the accuracy of Valentine's aim, who 
 sent a bullet through the head of the Mexi- 
 can's horse at the moment when, mad with 
 terror, .and no longer obeying the bridle, it 
 was on the point of leaping into an abyss 
 with its master. Don Miguel had sworn 
 eternal gratitude to his savior. 
 
 Valentine and (Jurumilla had made them- 
 selves tutors of his children, who, for their 
 part, felt a deep friendship for the hunters. 
 Don Pablo had frequently made long hunt- 
 ing parties in the desert with them ; and it 
 was to them he owed the certainty of his 
 aim, his skill in handling weapons, and his 
 knack in taming horses. 
 
 Still, despite the sympathy and friendship 
 which so closely connected these different 
 persons, and the confidence which formed 
 the basis of that friendship, Don Miguel and 
 his children had never been able to obtain 
 from the hunters information as to events 
 that had passed prior to their arrival in this 
 country. 
 
 Wrapped in Indian stoicism, intrenched 
 in habitual sullenness, it was their wont to 
 ansvrer all questions by a shake of the head, 
 but nothing; further. 
 
 The hunter and the Mexican were 
 by the fire, while Curumilla, armed with hiA 
 scalping-knife, was busily liaying the twfr 
 jaguars so skillfully killed by Don Miguel, 
 and which were two magnificent brutes. 
 
 " Eh, comrade!" Don Miguel said, with a 
 laugh ; " I was beginning to \o*u patience, 
 and fancy you had forgotten the meeting 
 you had yourself given me." 
 
 " I never forget any thing, as you know," 
 Valentine answered, seriously; "and if I 
 did not arrive here sooner, it was because 
 the road is long from my hut to this clear- 
 ing." 
 
 "Heaven forbid that I should reproach 
 you, my friend ! Still I confess to you that 
 the prospect of passing the night alone in 
 this forest only slightly pleased me, and I 
 should have been off had you not arrived 
 before sunset." 
 
 "You would have done wrong, Don Mig- 
 uel : what I have to tell you is of the ut- 
 most importance to you. Who knows what 
 the result might have been had I not been 
 able to warn you?" 
 
 " You alarm me, my friend." 
 
 " I will explain. In the first place let me 
 tell you that you committed, a few days 
 back, a grave imprudence, whose conse- 
 quences threaten to be most serious for 
 you." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "I said one, but ought to have said 
 two." 
 
 " I am waiting till you think proper to ex- 
 press yourself more clearly," Don Miguel 
 said, with a slight tinge of impatience, " be- 
 fore I answer." 
 
 " You have quarreled with the bandit." 
 
 "Red Cedar." 
 
 "Yes; and when you had him in your 
 power you let him escape, instead of killing 
 him out and out." 
 
 " That is true, and I was wrong. What 
 would you do ? The villain has as tough a 
 life as an alligator. But be at ease. If ever 
 he fall into my hands again, I swear that I 
 will not miss him." 
 
 "In the mean while you did do so that is 
 the evil." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " You will understand me. This man is 
 one of those villains, the scum of the 
 United States, too many of whom have lived 
 on the frontier during the last few years. 
 I do not know how he contrived to deceive 
 your New York agent, but he gained his con- 
 fidence so cleverly that the latter told him 
 all the secrets he knew about your enter- 
 prise." 
 
 "He told me so himself." 
 
 " Very good. It was then, I suppose, 
 that you stabbed him ?" 
 
 " Yes, and at the same time I plucked out 
 his claws ; that is to say, I seized the letters 
 ,l\c held, and* which might compromise 
 me." 
 
 "A mistake. This man is too thorough- 
 
THE TRAIL-HUXTfiR. 
 
 paced a scoundrel . not to foresee all the 
 chances of his treason. He had a last letter, 
 the most important of all; and that you 
 did not take from him." 
 
 " I took three." 
 
 "Yes, but there were four. As the last, 
 however, in itself was worth as much as the 
 other three, he always wore it about him in 
 a leather bag hung round his neck by a 
 Bteel chain: you did not dream of looking 
 for that." 
 
 " But what importance can this letter, I 
 do not even remember writing, possess, that 
 you should attach such weight to it ?" 
 
 " It is merely the agreement drawn up be- 
 tween yourself. General Ibanez, and Mr. 
 Wood, and bearing your three signatures." 
 
 "In that case I am lost," the Mexican 
 exclaimed in terror, "for if this man real- 
 ly possesses such a document, he will not 
 fail to employ it in order to be revenged on 
 me." 
 
 " Nothing is lost, so long as a man's heart 
 beats in his breast, Don Miguel. The po- 
 sition is critical I allow, but I have saved 
 myself in situations far more desperate than 
 the one you are now in." 
 
 "What is to be done?" 
 
 " Red Cedar has been about again for two 
 days. His first care, so soon as lie could 
 sit a horse, was to go to Santa Fe, the capi- 
 tal of New Mexico, and denounce you to 
 the Governor. This has nothing to surprise 
 you from such a man." 
 
 " Then I can only fly as speedily as I 
 may." 
 
 " Wait. Every man has in his heart at 
 least one of the seven deadly sins as a bait 
 for the demon." 
 
 " What are you driving at ?" 
 
 "You will see. Fortunately for us, Red 
 Cedar has them all seven, I believe, in the 
 tiuest state of development. Avarice, be- 
 fore all, has reached its acme with him." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "This happened. Our man denounced 
 yo\i to the Governor as a conspirator, etc., 
 but was careful not to give up the proofs 
 he possessed in support of the denunciation 
 at the outset. When General isturitz, the 
 Governor, asked him for these proofs, he an- 
 swered that he was ready to supply them in 
 exchange for the sum of one hundred thou- 
 saud piastres in gold." 
 
 " Ah !" the haciendero said with a breath 
 of relief, " and what did Isturitz say ?" 
 
 " The General is one of your most invet- 
 eterate enemies, I grant, and he would give 
 a good deal for the pleasure of having you 
 shot." 
 
 " That is true." 
 
 "Yes, but still the sum appeared to him, 
 as it really is, exorbitant, the more so as he 
 would have to pay it all himself, as the 
 Government does not recognize transactions 
 of that nature." 
 
 " Well, what did Red Cedar do then ?" 
 
 "He d)d not allow himself beaten; on 
 
 the contrary, he told the General he would 
 give him a week to reflect, and quietly left 
 the Cabildo." 
 
 " Hum ! and on what day was this visit 
 paid?" 
 
 "Yesterday morning: so that you have 
 six days still left for action." 
 
 "Six days that is very little." 
 
 " Eh ?" the Frenchman said, with a shrug 
 of his shoulders impossible to describe. 
 " In my country " 
 
 " Yes, but you arc a Frenchman." 
 
 " That is true : hence I allow you twice 
 the time we should require. Come, let us 
 put joking aside. You are a man of more 
 than common energy ; you really wish the 
 welfare of your country, so do not let your- 
 self be crushed by the first reverse. Who 
 knows but that it may be all for the best ?" 
 
 " Ah, my friend, I am alone ! General 
 Ibanez, who alone could help me in this 
 critical affair, is fifty leagues off. What can 
 I do ? Nothing." 
 
 "All. I foresaw your objection. Eagle- 
 wing, the chief of the Coras, has gone from 
 me to warn the General. You know with 
 what speed Indians travel : so he will bring 
 us the General in a few hours, I feel con- 
 vinced." 
 
 Don Miguel regarded the hunter with 
 mingled admiration and respect. 
 
 "You have done that, my friend?" he 
 said to him as he warmly pressed his hand. 
 
 "By Jove!" Valentine said gayly, "I 
 have done something else too. When the 
 time arrives I will tell you what it is. But 
 lei us not lose an hour. What do you in- 
 tend to do for the present ?" 
 
 "Act." 
 
 " Good : that is the way I like to heai 
 you talk." 
 
 " Yes, but I must first come to an under- 
 standing with the General." 
 
 "That is true: but it is the least thing," 
 Valentine answered as he looked skyward, 
 and consulted the position of the stars. 
 " It is now eight o'clock. Eagle- wing and 
 the man he brings must be at midnight at 
 the entrance of the Canon del JSuitre. We 
 have four hours before us, and that is more 
 than wo require, as we have only ten leagues 
 to go." 
 
 " Let us go, let us go !" Don Miguel ex- 
 claimed, eagerly. 
 
 " Wait a moment ; there is no such hurry. 
 Don't be alarmed; we shall arrive in time." 
 
 He then turned to Curumilla, and said to 
 him in Araucano a few words which the 
 haciendero did not understand. The Indian 
 rose without replying, and disappeared in 
 the density of the forest. 
 
 " You know," Valentine continued, " that 
 I prefer, through habit, traveling on foot; 
 still, as under" present circumstances min- 
 utes arc precious, and we must not lose 
 them, I have provided two horses." 
 
 " You think of every thing, my friend." 
 
 "Yes, when I have to act for those I 
 
A MEXICAN BAR-ROOM. 
 
 lore," Valentine answered, with a retro- 
 spective sigh. 
 
 There was a moment's silence between 
 the two men, and at the end of scarce a 
 quarter of an hour there was a noise in the 
 shrubs, the branches parted, and Curumilla 
 re-entered the clearing, holding two horses 
 by the bridle. These noble animals, which 
 were nearly untamed mustangs, bore a strik- 
 ing resemblance to the steeds of the 
 Apaches, on whose territory our fric'nds now 
 were. They were literally covered with 
 eagle-plumes, beads, and ribbons, while 
 long red and white spots completed then- 
 disguise, and rendered it almost impossible 
 to recognize them. 
 
 "Mount!" Don Miguel exclaimed, so 
 soon as he saw them. " Time is slipping 
 away. ' ' 
 
 ' One word yet," Valentine remarked. 
 
 Speak." 
 
 You still have as chaplain a certain 
 monk of the name of Fray Ambrosio?" 
 
 Yes." 
 
 Take care of that man he betrays 
 you." 
 
 You believe it ?" 
 
 I am sure of it." 
 
 Good! I will remember." 
 ' All right. Now we will be off," Valen- 
 tine said, as he buried his spurs in his horse's 
 flanks. 
 
 And the three horsemen rushed into the 
 darkness with headlong speed. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE AGREEMENT. 
 
 THE day on which our story commences, 
 the village of the Paso del Norte presented 
 an extraordinary appearance. The bells 
 were ringing out peals, for the three hun- 
 dredth anniversary of its foundation was be- 
 ing celebrated. 
 
 In a house of poor appearance, built, like 
 all its neighbors, of earth bricks, some 
 twenty-five fellows, whom it was easy to 
 recognize as adventurers by the feathers in 
 their hats, their upturned mustaches, and 
 especially by the lon<j bronze-hilted sword 
 they wore on the thigh, were drinking at 
 the gambling-tables, while yelling like deaf 
 men, and threatening at every moment to 
 unsheathe their weapons. 
 
 In a corner of the room occupied by these 
 troublesome guests two men, seated oppo- 
 site each other at a table, seemed plunged 
 in deep thought, and looked around them 
 absently, not thinking about drinking the 
 contents of their glasses, which had not 
 been emptied for more than half an hour. 
 These two men presented the most striking- 
 contrast. They were still young. The first, 
 aged twenty-five at the most, had one of 
 
 spect. His pallid brow, his face of a delicate 
 hue, surrounded by his long black curls, his 
 straight and flexible nose, his mouth filled 
 with a double row of teeth of dazzling 
 whiteness, and surmounted by a light brown 
 mustache, gave him a stamp of distinction, 
 which was the more striking owing to the 
 strict, and perhaps common, style of his at- 
 tire. 
 
 He wore the costume of the wood-rangers. 
 A Panama straw hat was thrown on the 
 table, within reach of his hand, by the side 
 of an American rifle and two double-bar- 
 reled pistols. A dirk hung on his left side, 
 and the hilt of a long knife peeped out of 
 his left boot. 
 
 His companion was short and thick-set : 
 but his well-knit limbs and his outstanding 
 muscles indicated no ordinary strength. 
 His face, the features of which were common- 
 place enough, had a cunning look, which 
 suddenly disappeared to make room for a 
 certain nobility, whenever, under the influ- 
 ence of any sudden emotion, his eyebrows 
 contracted, and his glance, ordinarily vailed, 
 flashed forth. He wore nearly the same 
 garb as his comrade ; but his hat, stained 
 with rain, and the colors of his zarape, faded 
 by the sun, evidenced lengthened wear. 
 Like the first one we described, he was 
 well armed. 
 
 It was easy to see at the first glance that 
 these two men did not belong to the Mexi- 
 can race. Indeed, their conversation would 
 have removed any doubts on that head, for 
 they spoke in the French dialect employed 
 in Canada. 
 
 . " Hum!" the first said, taking up his glass, 
 which he carelessly raised to his lips. " Af- 
 ter due consideration, Harry, I believe we 
 shall do better by mounting our horses again, 
 and starting, instead of remaining in this 
 horrible den, amid these Pagans, who croak 
 like frogs before a storm." 
 
 " Deiice take your impatience !" the other 
 replied, ill-temperedly. " Can't you re- 
 main a moment at rest?" 
 
 " You call it a moment, Harry. Why, we 
 have been here an hour." 
 
 " By Jove ! Dick, you're a wonderful fel- 
 low," the other continued, with a laugh. 
 " Do you think that business can be settled 
 all in a moment?" 
 
 "After all, what is our game? For 
 may the old one twist my neck, or a grizzly 
 give me a hug, if I know the least m the 
 world ! For five years we have hunted and 
 slept side by side. We have come from 
 Canada together to this place. I have g own 
 into a habit I can not say why of refer- 
 ring to you every thing that concerns our 
 mutual interests. Still I should not be sorry 
 to know, if only for the rarity of the fact, 
 wli3 r on earth we left the prairies, where we 
 were so well off, to come here, where we 
 are so badly off." 
 
 those frank, honest, and energetic faces " Have you ever repented, up to to-day, 
 which call for sympathy, and attract re- the confidence you placed in n>'T 1 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " I do not say so, Harry. Heaven forbid ! 
 Still I think" 
 
 '* You think wrong," the young- man 
 sharply interrupted. "Let me alone, and 
 before three months you shall have three 
 times your hat full of "massive gold, or call 
 me a fool." 
 
 At this dazzling promise the eye of Dick, 
 the smaller of the hunters, glistened like 
 two stars. He regarded his comrade with a 
 species of admiration. 
 
 "Oh, oh!" he said, in a low voice, "it 
 is a placer, is it?" 
 
 "Hang it!" the other said, with a shrug 
 of his shoulders, "were it not, should I be 
 here? But silence, our man has arrived." 
 
 Presently a man entered. On his appear- 
 ance a sudden silence fell on the place, 
 the adventurers rose as if moved by a 
 spring, respectfully took off their plumed 
 hats, and ranged themselves with downcast 
 eyes to let him pass. The man remained for 
 an instant on the threshold, took a profound 
 glance at the company, and then walked to- 
 ward the two hunters. 
 
 This man wore the gown of a monk ; he 
 had the ascetic face, with the harsh features 
 and sharply-marked lines, that forms, as it 
 were, the type of the Spanish monks of 
 which Titian has so admirably caught the 
 expression on his canvas. He passed through 
 the adventurers, holding out right and left 
 his wide sleeves, whicii they reverentially 
 kissed. On approaching the two hunters 
 he turned round. 
 
 " Continue your sports, my sons," he said 
 to the company; "my presence need not 
 disturb your frolics for I only wished to speak 
 for a few moments with these two gentle- 
 men." 
 
 The adventurers did not let the invitation 
 be repeated, but took their places again 
 tumultuously. The monk smiled, and seat- 
 ed himself between the two hunters, while 
 bending a searching glance on them. The 
 latter had followed with a mocking eye all 
 the interludes of this little scene, and with- 
 out making a movement, they let the monk 
 seat himself by their side. 
 
 The monk, without any observation, rolled 
 a cigarette, and then leaning his elbows on 
 the table, and bending forward, said : 
 
 " You are punctual." 
 
 u We have been waiting an hour," Dick 
 observed, in a rough voice. 
 
 " What is an hour in the presence of eter- 
 nity?" the monk said, witli a smile. 
 
 " Let us not lose any more time," Harry 
 continued. " What have you to propose 
 to us?" 
 
 The monk looked around him suspiciously, 
 and lowered his voice. 
 
 " I can, if you like, make you rich in a 
 few days." 
 
 " What is the business !" Dick asked. 
 
 "Of course," the monk continued, "this 
 fortune I offer you is a matter of indifference 
 to me. If I have an ardent desire to obtain 
 
 it, it is, in the first place, because it belongs 
 to nobody, and will permit me to relieve 
 the wretchedness of thousands of beings 
 confided to my charge." 
 
 "Of course, seuor padre," Harry an- 
 swered, seriously. " Let us not weigh 
 longer on these details. According to what 
 you told me a few days back, you have dis- 
 covered a rich placer." 
 
 " Not I," the monk sharply objected. 
 
 " No consequence, provided that it exists," 
 Dick answered. 
 
 " Pardon me, but it is of great consequence 
 to me. I do not wish to take on myself the 
 responsibility of such a discovery. If, as I 
 believe, people will go in search of it, it 
 may entail the death of several persons, and 
 the church abhors bloodshed." 
 
 " Very good ; you only desire to profit by 
 
 '" Not for myself." 
 
 " For your parishioners. Very good: but 
 let us try to come to an understanding, if 
 possible, for our time is too precious for us 
 to waste it in empty talk." 
 
 The monk crossed himself, and said : 
 
 " How you have retained the impetuosity 
 of your French origin ! Have a little pa- 
 tience, and I will explain myself." 
 
 ' That is all we desire." 
 
 " But you will promise me " 
 
 " Nothing," Dick interrupted. " We are 
 hunters, and not accustomed to pledge our- 
 selves so lightly before knowing positively 
 what is asked of us." 
 
 Harry supported his friend's words by a 
 nod. The monk took two or three heavy 
 puffs at his cigarette. 
 
 " Your will be done," he then said. " You 
 are terrible men. This is the affair." 
 
 "Goon." 
 
 "A poor scamp of a miner, lost I know 
 not how, in the great desert, discovered at 
 a considerable distance off, between the Kio 
 Gila and the Colorado, the richest placer 
 the wildest imagination can conceive. Ac- 
 cording to his statement, tlie gold is scat- 
 tered over the surface, for an extent of two 
 or three miles, in nuggets, each of which 
 would make a man's fortune. This gambu- 
 sino, dazzled by such treasures, but unable 
 to appropriate them alone, displayed the 
 greatest energy, and brayed the utmost 
 perils, in order to gain civilized regions. It 
 was only through boldness and temerity 
 that he succeeded in escaping the countless 
 enemies who spied and tracked him on all 
 sides ; but heaven at length allowed him tc 
 reach Paso safe and sound." 
 
 " Very good," Dick observed. " All this 
 may possibly be true ; but why did you not 
 bring this gambusino, instead of talking to 
 us about the placer, of which you know as 
 little as we do ? He would have supplied us 
 with information which is indispensable for 
 us, in the event of our consenting to help 
 you in looking for this treasure." 
 
 " Alas !" the monk replied, hypocritically 
 
A PL AVER OF GOLD. 
 
 casting his eyes down, u the unhappy man 
 was not destined to profit by this discovery, 
 made at the price of so many perils. Scarce 
 two days after his arrival at Paso he quarrel- 
 ed with another gambusino, and received a 
 stab which sent him a few hours later to 
 the tomb." 
 
 44 In that case," Harry observed, " how 
 did you learn all these details, senor padre ?" 
 
 44 In a very simple way, my sou. It was 
 I who reconciled the poor wretch in his 
 last moments with Heaven; and," he added 
 with an air of compunction splendidly as- 
 sumed, " when he understood that his end 
 was at hand, and that nothing could save 
 him, he confided to me, in gratitude for the 
 consolations I bestowed on him, what I 
 have just told you, revealed to me the situ- 
 ation of the placer, and for greater certainty 
 gave me a clumsy chart he had drawn out 
 on the spot. You see that we can proceed 
 almost with certainty." 
 
 " Yes," said Harry, thoughtfully; "but 
 why, instead of first applying to the Mexi- 
 cans, your countrymen, did you propose to 
 us to help you in your enterprise '?" 
 
 u Because the Mexicans are men who can 
 not be trusted, and before reaching the pla- 
 cer we should have to tight the Apaches and 
 Comanches, on whose territory it is sit- 
 uated. " 
 
 After these words there was a rather 
 lengthened silence between the three speak- 
 ers : each was reflecting deeply on what he 
 had just heard. The monk tried to read 
 with cunning eye the impression produced 
 on the hunters by his confidences ; but his 
 hopes were deceived. Their faces remained 
 unmoved. At length Dick spoke in a rough 
 voice, after exchanging a meaning look 
 with his comrade. 
 
 " All that is very fine," he said ; " but it 
 is absurd to suppose that two men, however 
 brave they may be, can attempt such an en- 
 terprise in unknown regions peopled by fe- 
 rocious tribes. It would require at least 
 fifty resolute and devoted men, otherwise 
 nothing could be possible." 
 
 44 You are right, and hence I did not cal- 
 culate on you alone. You will have de- 
 termined men under your orders, chosen 
 carefully by myself, and I shall also accom- 
 pany you." 
 
 44 Unluckily, if you have counted on us, 
 you are mistaken, senor padre," Harry said 
 peremptorily. u We are honest hunters; 
 but the trade of a gambusino does not at all 
 suit us. Even if we had a chance of gain- 
 ing an incalculable fortune, we would not 
 consent to take part in an expedition of 
 gold-seekers." 
 
 41 Not even if Red Cedar were at the head 
 of the expedition, and consented to take 
 the direction?" the monk said in a honeyed 
 voice, and with a side glance. 
 
 The hunter started, a feverish blush suf- 
 fused his face, and it was in a voice choked 
 by emotion that h exclaimed : 
 
 " Have you spoken with him about it?" 
 44 Here he is ; you can ask him," the monk 
 answered. 
 
 In fact, a man was entering the meson at 
 tliis moment. Harry looked down in con- 
 fusion, while Dick tapped the table with 
 his dagger and whistled. A smile of unde- 
 finable meaning wandered over the monk's 
 pallid lips. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 RED CEDAR. 
 
 RED CEDAR was more than six feet in 
 hight; his enormous head was fastened to 
 his square shoulders by a short and muscu- 
 lar neck, like a bull's; his bony members 
 were covered with muscles hard as ropes. 
 In short, his whole person was a specimen 
 of brute strength at its culminating point. 
 
 A fox-skin cap, pressed down on his head, 
 allowed escape to a few tufts of coarse gray- 
 ish hair, and fell on his little gray eyes, 
 which were close to a nose that was hooked 
 like the beak of a bird of prey; his wide 
 mouth was filled with white, large teeth ; 
 his cheek-bones were prominent and purpled; 
 and the lower part of his face disappeared 
 in a thick black beard, mingled with gray 
 hairs. He wore a hunting-shirt of striped 
 calico, fastened [round the waist by a strap 
 of brown leather, through which were pass- 
 ed two pistols, an ax, and a long knife; a 
 pair of leggings of tawny leather, sewed at 
 equal distances with hair, fell down to his 
 knees ; while his legs were protected by In- 
 dian moccasins, ornamented with a profu- 
 sion of beads and bells. A game-bag of 
 fawn-skin, which seemed full, fell over his 
 right hip ; and he held in his hand an Amer- 
 ican rifle, studded with copper-nails. 
 
 No one knew who Red Cedar was, or 
 whence he came. About two years prior to 
 the period of our story opening he had sud- 
 denly made his appearance in the country, 
 accompanied by a wife of a certain age a 
 species of Megiera, of masculine form and 
 repellant aspect; a girl of seventeen; and 
 three vigorous lads, who resembled him too 
 closely not to be his own, and whose ages 
 varied from nineteen to twenty-four. 
 
 Red Cedar himself appeared to be fifty- 
 five at the most. The name by w r hich he 
 was known had been given him by the 
 Indians, of whom he had declared himself 
 the implacable enemy, and boasted that he 
 had killed two hundred. The old woman 
 was called Betsy; the girl, Ellen; the 
 eldest son, Nathan; the second, Sutter; and 
 the last, Shaw. 
 
 This family had built a shanty in the forest 
 at Buffalo Valley, and lived alone in the des- 
 ert, without having entered into any rela- 
 tions with the inhabitants of the village, or 
 the trappers and wood-rangers, its neigh- 
 bors. This mysterious conduct had given 
 rise to numerous comments; but all had 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 remained without reply or solution, and after 
 two years they remained as perfect strangers 
 as on the day of their arrival. 
 
 Still, mournful and sad stories were in 
 circulation on their account : they inspired 
 an instinctive hatred and involuntary terror. 
 Some said in a whisper that old Red Cedar 
 and his three sons were nothing less than 
 " scalp-hunters :" that is to say, in the pub- 
 lic esteem, people placed beneath the pirates 
 of the prairies, that unclean breed of birds 
 of prey which everybody fears and despises. 
 
 The entry of Red Cedar was significant : 
 the otherwise unscrupulous men who tilled 
 the saloon hurriedly retired on his approach, 
 and made room for him with a zeal mingled 
 with disgust. The old partisan crossed the 
 room with head erect : a smile of haughty 
 disdain played round his thin lips at the 
 sight of the effect his presence produced, 
 and he went up to the monk and his two 
 companions. On reaching them he roughly 
 placed the butt of his rifle on the ground, 
 leaned his two crossed hands upon the barrel, 
 and after bending a cunning glance on the 
 persons before him, said to the monk in a 
 hoarse voice : 
 
 " The deuce take you ! Here I am: what 
 do you want with me ?" 
 
 Far from being vexed at this brutal ad- 
 dress, the latter smiled on the colossus, and 
 held out his hand to him, as he graciously 
 made answer : 
 
 " You are welcome, Red Cedar: we were 
 expecting you. Sit down, and we will 
 talk while drinking a glass of pulque." 
 
 " The deuce twist your neck, and may 
 your accursed pulque choke you ! Do you 
 take me for your sort?" the other answered 
 as he fell into the seat offered him. " Order 
 me some brandy, and that of the strongest. 
 I am not a baby I suppose." 
 
 Without making the slightest observation, 
 the monk rose, went to speak with the host, 
 and presently returned with a bottle, from 
 which he poured a bumper for the old hunt- 
 er. The latter emptied the glass at a draught, 
 put it back on the table with a sonorous 
 "hum!" and turned to the monk with a 
 grimacing smile. 
 
 " Come, the devil is not always so black 
 as he looks," he said, as he passed his hand 
 over his mouth to wipe his mustache. " I 
 see that we can come to an understanding." 
 
 " It will depend on you, Red Cedar. Here 
 are two worthy Canadian hunters who will 
 do nothing without your support." 
 
 The Hercules took a side glance at the 
 young men. 
 
 " Eh !" lie said, " what do you want with 
 these children ? Did I not promise you to 
 reach the placer with my sons only ?" 
 
 " He ! he ! you are powerfully built, both 
 you and your lads, I allow; but I doubt 
 whether four men, were they twice as strong 
 as you are, could carry ont this affair suc- 
 cessfully. You will have numerous enemies 
 to combat on your road.",, 
 
 liti 
 
 "All the better! The more there we, 
 the more we shall kill," he answered, with a 
 sinister laugh. 
 
 " Senor padre," Dick interrupted, "as far 
 as I am concerned, I care little about it." 
 
 But he was suddenly checked by a mean- 
 ing glance from his mate. 
 
 " What do you care little about, my pretty 
 lad ?" the giant asked in a mocking voice. 
 
 " Nothing," tbe young man answered 
 dryly. " Suppose I had not spoken." 
 
 " Good," Red Cedar remarked; " it shall 
 be as you wish. Here's your health." 
 
 And he poured the rest of the bottle into 
 his glass. 
 
 " Come," said Harry, " let us have but 
 few words. Explain yourself once for all, 
 without beating about the bush, senor 
 padre." 
 
 "Yes," Red Cedar observed, "men ought 
 not to waste their time thus in chatter- 
 ing." 
 
 " Very good. This, then, is what I pro- 
 pose. Red Cedar Avill collect within three 
 daj's from this time thirty resolute men, of 
 whom he will take the command, and we 
 will start immediately in search of the 
 placer. Does it suit you in that way ?" 
 
 Hum !" Red Cedar said. " In order to 
 in search of the placer we must know a 
 "ittle in what direction it is, or deuce take 
 me if I undertake the business !" 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself about that, Red 
 Cedar ; I will accompany you. Have I not 
 a plan of the country V" 
 
 The colossus shot at the monk a glance 
 which sparkled under his dark eyelash, but 
 he hastened to moderate its brilliancy by 
 letting his eyes fall. 
 
 " That is true," he said with feigned in- 
 difference ; "I forgot that you were coming 
 with us. Then you will leave your parish- 
 ioners during your absence ?" 
 
 " Heaven will watch over them." 
 
 " Eh ! it will have its work cut out. How- 
 ever, that does not concern me at all. But 
 why did you want me to come to this place ?" 
 
 " In order to introduce you to these two 
 hunters, who will accompany us." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," Dick observed, 
 " but I do not exactly see of what use I can 
 be to you in all this : my aid, and that of 
 my mate, do not appear to me to be indis- 
 pensable." 
 
 " On the contrary," the monk answered, 
 quickly, " I reckon entirely on you." 
 
 The giant had risen. 
 
 "What!" he said, as he roughly laid his 
 enormous hand on Dick's shoulder, "you 
 do not understand that this honorable per- 
 sonage, who did not hesitate to kill a man 
 in order to rob him of the secret of the 
 placer, has a terrible fear of finding himself 
 alone with me on the prairie ? He fears 
 that I shall kill him in my turn to rob him 
 of the secret of which -he became master bv 
 a crime. Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 And he turned his back unceremoniously. 
 

 AN AD VANTA GEO US PROPOSAL. 
 
 "How can you suppose such things, Red 
 Cedar?" the monk exclaimed. 
 
 " Do you fancy that I did not read you ?" 
 the latter answered. " But it is all the same 
 to you. Do as you please : I leave you at 
 liberty to act as you like." 
 
 " What ! you are off already ?" 
 
 " Hang it ! what have I to do any longer 
 here ? All is settled between us. In three 
 days thirty of the best frontiermen will be 
 assembled by my care at Grizzly Bear Creek, 
 where we shall expect you." 
 
 After shrugging; his shoulders once again 
 he went off without any salute, or even 
 turning his head. 
 
 "It must be confessed," Dick observed, 
 " that the man has a most villainous face. 
 What a hideous fellow !" 
 
 "Oh!" the monk answered, with a sigh, 
 " the exterior is nothing. You should know 
 the inner man." 
 
 " Why, in that case, do you have any deal- 
 ings with him?" 
 
 The monk blushed slightly. 
 
 " Because it must be so," he muttered. 
 
 "All right for you," Dick continued; 
 "but as nothing obliges my friend and my- 
 self to have any more intimate relations 
 with that man, you must not mind, senor 
 padre, if" 
 
 "Silence, Dick!" Harry shouted, angrily. 
 " You do not know what you arc talking 
 about. We will accompany you, senor pa- 
 dre. You can reckon on us to defend you 
 if necessary, for I suppose Red Cedar is 
 right." 
 
 "In what way?" 
 
 "You do not wish to trust your life de- 
 fenselessly in his hands, and you reck- 
 oned on us to protect you. Is it not so ?" 
 
 " Why should I feign any longer? Yes, 
 that man terrifies me, and I do not wish to 
 trust myself to his mercy." 
 
 "Do not be alarmed ; we shall be there, 
 and on our word as hunters, not a hair of 
 your head shall fall." 
 
 A lively satisfaction appeared on the 
 monk's pale face on hearing this generous 
 promise. 
 
 "Thanks," he said, warmly. 
 
 Harry's conduct appeared so extraordi- 
 nary to Dick, who knew the lofty sentiments 
 and innate honor of his comrade, that, 
 without striving to fathom the motives 
 which made him act thus, he contented 
 himself by backing up his words with an 
 affirmative nod of the head. 
 
 " Be assured, gentlemen, that when we 
 reach the placer, I will give you a large 
 share, and you will have no cause to regret 
 accompanying me." 
 
 sufficient to make us undertake this jour- 
 ney." 
 
 " Whatever the reason that makes you ac- 
 cept my proposals, I am not the less obliged 
 to you." 
 
 " Now you will permit us to take leave of 
 you, and we shall hold ourselves at your or- 
 ders." 
 
 "Go, gentlemen; I will not keep you 
 longer. I know where to find you when I 
 want you." 
 
 The young men took up their hats, slung 
 their rifles on their shoulders, and left the 
 saloon. The monk looked after them. 
 
 "Oh!" he muttered, "I believe I can 
 trust to those men : they have still in their 
 veins a few drops of that honest blood which 
 despises treachery. No matter," he added, 
 as if on reflection; "I will take my precau- 
 tions." 
 
 The monk rose and looked around him. 
 The room was full of adventurers, who 
 drank or played at monte, and whose ener- 
 getic faces stood out in the semi-obscurity 
 of the room, which was scarce lighted by a 
 smoky lamp. After a moment's reflection 
 the monk boldly struck the table with his 
 clenched fist, and shouted in a loud voice : 
 
 "Friends, I invite you to listen to me. I 
 have, I fancy, an advantageous proposal to 
 make to you." 
 
 The company turned their heads ; all ap- 
 proached the monk, round whom they 
 grouped themselves curiously. 
 
 "Friends," he continued, " if lam not mis- 
 taken, all present are gentlemen whom for- 
 tune has more or less ill-treated." 
 
 The adventurers, by an automatic move- 
 ment of extraordinary regularity, bowed 
 their heads in affirmation. 
 
 " If you wish it," he continued, with an 
 imperceptible smile, " I will undertake to 
 repair the wrongs she has done you." 
 
 The ad venturers pricked up their ears. 
 
 "Speak, speak!" they shouted, with de- 
 light. 
 
 "What is the affair?" a man with a hang- 
 dog face said, who stood in the front ranks. 
 
 "A war-party which I intend to lead 
 shortly into Apacheria," the monk said, 
 " and for which purpose I need you." 
 
 At this proposition the first ardor of the 
 adventurers visibly cooled down. The 
 Apaches and Comanches inspire an invinci- 
 ble terror in the inhabitants of the Mexican 
 frontiers. The monk guessed the effect he 
 had produced; but he continued, as if not 
 observing any thing : 
 
 " I take you all into my service for a 
 month, at the rate of four piasters a day." 
 
 At this magnificent offer the eyes of the 
 
 " The money question has but slight in- adventurers sparkled with greed, fear gave 
 
 rF*S"fr. With TIG " T-TaT^TT nncxvoi'firl " \Tir -nrriTT f<-\ nt-ot^I/^^ /-,>- ^1 4-1-.^.-* ^11 ,.-.,,."],,:*- 
 
 terest with us," Harry answered. "My 
 friend and I are free hunters, caring very 
 little for riches, which would be to us rathe'r 
 j*. source of embarrassment than of pleasure 
 ,)d enjoyment. Curiosity alone, and the 
 desire of exploring strange countries, are 
 
 way to avarice, and they all exclaimed : 
 "We accept, reverend father !" 
 " But," the man continued who had al- 
 ready spoken, "we shall be happy, senor 
 padre, if, before starting, you would give us 
 your holy benediction, and absolve us from 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 the few venial sins we may have commit- 
 ted." 
 
 "Yes," the company yelled, " we shall be 
 happy if you consent to that, reverend 
 father." ' 
 
 The monk appeared to reflect: the adven- 
 turers anxiously waited. 
 
 " Well, be it so," he answered, after a mo- 
 ment. " As the work in which I am about 
 to employ you is so meritorious, I will give 
 you my blessing, and grant you absolution 
 of your sins." 
 
 For a few minutes there was a chorus of 
 shouts and exclamations of joy in the room. 
 The monk demanded silence, and wlien it 
 was restored he said : 
 
 "Now, give me each your name, that I 
 may find you when I need you." 
 
 He sat down, and began enrolling the ad- 
 venturers, who, with the men Red Cedar 
 supplied, would form the band with which 
 he hoped to reach the placer. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE TWO HUNTERS. 
 
 HARRY and Dick, whom we saw seated at 
 a table, in the saloon with Red Cedar and 
 Fray Ambrosio, were, however, very far 
 from resembling those two men morally. 
 They were free and bold hunters, who had 
 spent the greater part of their life in the 
 desert, and who, in the vast solitudes of the 
 prairie, had accustomed themselves to a 
 life free and exempt from those vices which 
 accompany a town residence. 
 
 For them gold was only the means to pro- 
 cure the necessary objects for their trade 
 as hunters and tiappers; and they never 
 imagined that the possession of a large 
 quantity of that yellow metal they despised 
 would place them in a position to enjoy 
 other pleasures than those they found in 
 their long hunts of wild beasts hunts so 
 full of strange incidents and striking joys. 
 
 Thus Dick had been to the highest degree 
 surprised when he saw his friend eagerly ac- 
 cept the monk's offer, and agree to go in 
 search of the placer ; but what even more 
 surprised him was Harry's insisting that Red 
 Cedar must take the lead of the expedition. 
 
 Dick was thoroughly acquainted with his 
 friend's upright character and nobility of 
 heart. Hence his conduct under the present 
 circumstances seemed to him perfectly in- 
 comprehensible, and he resolved to have an 
 explanation with him. 
 
 They had scarce quitted the saloon ere 
 Dick bent down to his companion, and said, 
 while looking at him curiously : 
 
 " We have been hunting together for five 
 years, Harry, and up to the present I have 
 ever let myself be guided by you, leaving 
 you free to act as you pleased for our mu- 
 tual welfare. Still, this evening your con- 
 duct has appeared to me so extraordinary 
 
 that I am obliged, in the name of our friend- 
 ship, which has never suffered a break up to 
 this day, to ask you for an explanation of 
 what has occurred in my presence." 
 
 " For what good, my boy? Do you not 
 know me well enough to be certain that I 
 would not consent to do any dishonorable 
 deed?" 
 
 " Up to this evening I would have sworn 
 it, Harry : yes, on my honor I would have 
 sworn it 
 
 " And now?" the young man asked, stop- 
 ping and looking his friend in the face. 
 
 " Now," Dick answered, with a certain 
 degree of hesitation, " hang it all! I will 
 be frank with you, Harry, as an honest hunt- 
 er should ever be. Now I do not know if I 
 should do so: no, indeed I should not." 
 
 " What you say there causes me great 
 pain, Dick. You oblige me, in order to dis- 
 sipate your unjust suspicions, to confide to 
 you a secret which is not my. own, and 
 which I would not have revealed for any 
 thing in the world." 
 
 " Pardon me, Harry, but in my place I am 
 convinced you would act as I am doing. We 
 are very far from our country, which we 
 shall never see again, perhaps. We are re- 
 sponsible for each other, and our actions 
 must be free from all double interpretation." 
 
 " I will do what you ask, Dick, whatever 
 it may cost me. I recognize the justice of 
 your observations. I understand how much 
 my conduct this night must have hurt you 
 and appeared ambiguous. I do not wish our 
 friendship to receive the least wound, or the 
 slightest cloud to arise between us. You 
 shall be satisfied." 
 
 " I thank you, Harry. What you tell me 
 relieves my bosom of a heavy load. I con- 
 fess that I should have been in despair to 
 think badly of you ; but the words of that 
 intriguing monk, and the manners of his 
 worthy acolyte, Red Cedar, put me in a 
 passion. Had you not warned me so quick- 
 ly to silence, I believe Heaven pardon me 
 that I should have ended by telling them a 
 piece of my mind." 
 
 " You displayed considerable prudence in 
 keeping silence, and be assured that I feel 
 sincerely obliged to you for it. You shall 
 soon understand all, and I feel confident you 
 will completely approve me." 
 
 " I do not doubt it, Harry ; and now I feel 
 certain I deceived myself. I feel all jolly 
 again." 
 
 While speaking thus the two hunters, who 
 were walking with that rapid step peculiar 
 to men habituated to traverse great distances 
 on foot, had crossed the village, and found 
 themselves already far in the plain. The 
 night was magnificent the sky of a deep 
 blue. An infinite number of glistening stars 
 seemed floating in ether. The moon spread 
 its silvery rays profusely over the landscape. 
 The sharp odor of the flowers perfumed the 
 atmosphere. The two hunters still walked 
 on. 
 
A LOVE-MEETING. 
 
 S5 
 
 " Where are we going now, Harry?" Dick 
 asked. "I fancy we should do better by 
 taking a few hours' rest, instead of fatiguing 
 ourselves without any definite object. 
 
 44 I never do any thing without a reason, 
 friend, as you know," Harry answered ; " so 
 let me guide you and we shall soon arrive." 
 
 " Do as you think proper, my boy; I shall 
 eay nothing." 
 
 44 In the first place you must know that 
 the French hunter, Koutouepi, has begged 
 me, for reasons he did not tell me, to watch 
 Fray Ambrosio. That is one of the motives 
 which made me be present at this night's in- 
 terview, although I care as little for a placer 
 as for a musk-rat's skin." 
 
 u Koutonepi is the first hunter on the 
 frontier ; he has often done us a service in 
 the desert. You acted rightly, Harry, in do- 
 ing what he asked." 
 
 44 As for the secgnd reason that dictated 
 my conduct, Dick, you shall soon know it." 
 
 Half talking, half dreaming, the young 
 men reached Buffalo Valley, and soon enter- 
 ed the forest which served as a lair for the 
 squatter and his family. 
 
 44 Where the deuce are we going ?" Dick 
 could not refrain from saying. 
 
 " Silence !" said the other: 44 we are ap- 
 proaching." 
 
 The darkness was profound in the forest : 
 the density of the leafy dome under which 
 they walked completely intercepted the light 
 of the moonbeams. Still the Canadians, 
 long accustomed to a night march, advanced 
 as easily through the chaos of creepers and 
 trees tangled in each other as if they had 
 been in open day. On reaching a certain 
 spot where the trees, growing less closely 
 together, formed a species of clearing, and 
 allowed an uncertain and tremulous light to 
 pass, Harry stopped, and made his comrade 
 a sign to do the same. 
 
 " This is the place," he said. " Still, as 
 the person I have come to see expects me to 
 be alone, and your unexpected presence 
 might cause alarm, hide yourself behind 
 that larch tree : above all be careful not to 
 stir till I call you." 
 
 " Oh, oh!" the hunter said with a laugh, 
 44 have you led me to a love-meeting ?" 
 
 44 You shall judge," Harry replied laconi- 
 cally. ' 4 Hide yourself. ' ' 
 
 Dick, greatly troubled, did not need the 
 invitation to be repeated : he concealed him- 
 self behind the tree his friend had indicated, 
 and which would have sheltered a dozen men 
 behind its enormous stem. So soon as 
 Harry was alone he raised his fingers to his 
 lips, and at three different intervals imitated 
 the cry of an owl with such perfection that 
 Dick himself was deceived, and mechanical- 
 ly looked up to seek the bird in the tall 
 branches of the tree by which he stood. Al- 
 most immediately a slight noise was audible 
 in the shrubs, and a graceful and white form 
 appeared in the glade. It was Ellen, who 
 walked rapidly toward the young man. 
 
 4( Oh, it is you, Harry !" she Baid with 
 joy. 44 Heaven be blessed ! I was afraid you 
 would not come, as it is late." 
 
 44 It is true, Ellen ; pardon me. I made 
 all possible speed, however ; and it is not 
 my fault that I did not arrive sooner." 
 
 44 How good you are, Harry, to take so 
 much trouble for my sake ! How can I ever 
 recognize the continual services you do 
 me f' 
 
 44 Oh ! do not speak about them. It is a 
 happiness for me to do any thing agreeable 
 to you." 
 
 44 Alas !" the maiden murmured, 44 Heaven 
 is my witness that I feel a deep friendship 
 for you, Harry." 
 
 The young man sighed gently. 
 
 44 1 have done what you asked of me," he 
 said, suddenly. 
 
 44 Then it is true my father is thinking 
 about leaving this country to go further 
 
 " Yes, Ellen, and into frightful countries, 
 among the ferocious Indians." 
 
 The girl gave a start of terror. 
 
 44 Do you know the reason of his going ?" 
 she continued. 
 
 44 Yes; he is about to look for a gold- 
 placer." 
 
 44 Alas ! who will protect me, who will de- 
 fend me in future, if we go away ?" 
 
 44 1, Ellen !" the hunter exclaimed impet- 
 uously. 44 Have I not sworn to follow you 
 everywhere ?" 
 
 44 It is true," she said, sadly; " but why 
 should you risk your life on the distant jour- 
 ney we are about to undertake ? No, Harry, 
 remain here ; I can not consent to your de- 
 parture. From what I have heard say, the 
 band my father commands will be numerous 
 it will have scarce any thing to fear from 
 the Indians ; while, on the other hand, you, 
 compelled to hide yourself, will be exposed 
 alone to terrible danger. No, Harry, I will 
 not perm it it." 
 
 44 Undeceive yourself, Ellen. I shall not 
 be alone, for I am a member of your father's 
 band." 
 
 44 Is it possible, Harry?" she exclaimed 
 with an expression of joy. 
 
 44 1 enrolled myself this very evening." 
 
 44 Oh !" she said, 4< then in that case we 
 can often meet?" 
 
 44 Whenever you please, Ellen, as I shall be 
 there." 
 
 44 Oh ! now I am anxious to be away from 
 here, and wish we had already started." 
 
 44 It will not be long first, set your mind 
 at rest. I am convinced that we shall start 
 within the week." 
 
 44 Thanks for the good news you bring me, 
 Harry." 
 
 44 Are your father and mother still unkind 
 to you, Ellen ?" 
 
 44 It is nearly always the same thing; and 
 yet their conduct toward me is strange. It 
 often seems to me incomprehensible, as it 
 is so marked with peculiarities. There are 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 moments in which they seem to love me 
 dearly. My father especially caresses and 
 embraces me, and then all at once, I know 
 not why, repulses me rudely and looks at me 
 in a way that causes me to shudder." 
 k That is indeed strange, Ellen." 
 * Is it not ? There is one thing above all 
 I cau not explain." 
 
 4 Tell it me, Ellen : perhaps I can do so." 
 ' You know that all my family are Pro- 
 testants?" 
 Yes." 
 
 ' Well, I am a Catholic." 
 'That is certainly curious." 
 'I wear round my neck a small golden 
 crucifix. Every time accident makes this 
 trinket glisten before my father and mother 
 they grow furious, threaten to beat me, and 
 order me to hide it at once. Do you un- 
 derstand the meaning of this, Harry ?" 
 
 " No, I do not, Ellen ; but, take my advice, 
 leave every thing to time : perhaps it will 
 enable us to find a clue to the mystery which 
 we seek in vain at this moment." 
 
 " Well, your presence has rendered me 
 happy for a long time, Harry, so now I will 
 retire." 
 
 "Already?" 
 
 "I must, my friend. Believe me that I 
 am as sad as yourself at this separation ; but 
 my father has not yet returned, and may 
 arrive at any moment. If he noticed that I 
 was not asleep, who knows what might hap- 
 pen ?" 
 
 While saying the last words the girl held 
 out her delicate hand to the hunter, who 
 raised it to his lips passionately. Ellen 
 withdrew it suddenly, and bounding like a 
 startled fawn, darted into the forest, where 
 she son disappeared, giving the young man 
 a parting word, which caused him to quiver 
 with joy : 
 
 " We shall meet soon." 
 
 Harry stood for a long time with his eyes 
 fixed on the spot where the vision had dis- 
 appeared. At length he uttered a sigh, 
 threw his rifle over his shoulder, and turn- 
 ed as if to depart. Dick was before him. 
 Harry gave a start of surprise, for he had 
 forgotten his friend's presence ; but the lat- 
 tr smiled good-humoredly. 
 
 " I now comprehend your conduct, Har- 
 ry," he said to him ; " you were right to act 
 as you did. Pardon my unjust suspicions 
 and count on ine everywhere and alwa} 7 s." 
 
 Harry silently pressed the hand his friend 
 offered him, and they walked back rapidly 
 in the direction of the village. As they 
 emerged from the forest they passed a man 
 who did not see them. It was Red Cedar. 
 So soon as he had gone a short distance 
 Harry stopped his companion, and pointing 
 to the squatter, whose long black shadow 
 glided through the trees, said, as he laid his 
 hand on his shoulder : 
 
 "That man hides in his heart a horrible 
 secret, which I am ignorant of, but have 
 Rworn to discover." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 FRAY AMBEOSIO. 
 
 THE monk remained for a long time in 
 the room, taking down the names of the 
 adventurers he wished to enroll in his band. 
 It was late when he left ; but he was satis- 
 fled with his night's work, and internally re- 
 joiced at the rich collection of bandits of 
 the purest water he had recruited. 
 
 The monks form a privileged caste in Mexi- 
 co : they can go at all hours of the night 
 wherever they please without fearing the 
 numerous "gentlemen of the road," scat- 
 tered about all the highways. Their gown 
 inspires a respect which guarantees them 
 from any insult. Besides, Fray Ambrosio, 
 as the reader has doubtless already per- 
 ceived, was not the man to neglect indis- 
 pensable precautions. The worthy chap- 
 lain carried under his gown a pair of double- 
 barreled pistols, and in his right sleeve he 
 concealed a long knife, sharp as a razor, and 
 pointed as a needle. 
 
 Not troubling himself about the solitude 
 that reigned around him, the monk mount- 
 ed his mule and proceeded quietly to the 
 farm. It was about eleven o'clock. 
 
 A few words about Fray Ambrosio, while 
 he is peacefully ambling along the narrow 
 path which will lead him in two hours to 
 his destination, will show all the perversity 
 of the man who is destined to play an un- 
 fortunately too important part in the course 
 of our narrative. 
 
 Oue day a gambusino, or gold seeker, who 
 had disappeared for two years, no one know- 
 ing what had become of him, and who was 
 supposed to be dead long ago, assassinated 
 in the desert by the Indians, suddenly re- 
 appeared at the Paso del Norte. This man, 
 Joaquin by name, was brother to Andres 
 Garote, an adventurer of the worst stamp, 
 whom everybody feared, but who, through 
 the terror he inspired, enjoyed at the Paso 
 in spite of his well -avouched crimes, a repu- 
 tation and species of impunity which he 
 abused whenever the opportunity offered. 
 
 The two brothers began frequenting to- 
 gether the public places of the village, drink- 
 ing from morn till night,and paying either in 
 gold-dust inclosed in stout quills, or in 
 lumps of native gold. The rumor soon 
 spread that Joaquiu had discovered a rich 
 placer, and that his expenses were paid with 
 the specimens he had brought back. The 
 gold-seeker replied neither yes nor no to the 
 several insinuations which his friends, or 
 rather his boon companions, attempted on 
 him. He twinkled his eyes, smiled myste- 
 riously, and if it were observed that, at the 
 rate he was living at, he would soon be ruin- 
 ed, lie shrugged his shoulders, saying : 
 
 " When I have none left I know where to 
 find others." 
 
 And he continued to enjoy his fill of all 
 the pleasures whih a wretched hole like 
 Paso can furnish. 
 
MORTAL COMBAT. 
 
 87 
 
 siy Ambrosio had heard speak, like every 
 else, of the asserted discovery ; and his 
 
 one el 
 
 plan was at once formed to becomu master 
 of this man's secret, and rob him of his dis- 
 covcry, were that possible. 
 
 The same evening Joaquin and his brother 
 Andres were drinking, according to their 
 wont, in a public house, surrounded by a 
 crowd of scamps like themselves. Fray Am- 
 brosio, seated at a table with his hands hid- 
 den in the sleeve of his gown, and hanging 
 his head, appeared plunged in serious re- 
 flections, although he followed with a cun- 
 ning eye the various movements of the 
 drinkers, and not one of their gestures es- 
 caped him. 
 
 Suddenly a man entered, with his hand 
 on his lip, and throwing in the face of the 
 tirst person he passed the cigarette he was 
 smoking, he planted himself in front of 
 Joaquiu, to whom he said nothing, but be- 
 gan looking at him impudently, shrugging 
 his shoulders, and laughing ironically at all 
 the gold-seeker said. " Joaquin was not pa- 
 tient ; he saw at the first glance that this 
 person wished to pick a quarrel with him ; 
 and as he was brave, and feared nobody, man 
 or demon, he walked boldly up to him, and 
 looking at him fixedly in his turn, he said to 
 .him, as he thrust his face in his : 
 
 " Do you seek a quarrel, Toinaso t ; " 
 
 "Why not?" the latter said, impudently, 
 as he noisily placed his glass on the table. 
 
 " I am your man. We will fight how you 
 please." 
 
 "Bah!" Tomaso said, carelessly, "let us 
 do things properly, and tight with the whole 
 blade." 
 
 " Be it so." 
 
 The combats that take place between the 
 .adventurers are truly like those of wild 
 beasts. These coarse men, with their cruel 
 instincts, like fighting beyond all else. The 
 announcement of this duel caused a thrill 
 of pleasure to run through the ranks of the 
 bandits who pressed round the two men. 
 The fun was perfect : one of the adversaries 
 would doubtless fall perhaps both cries 
 and yells of delight were raised by the spec- 
 tators. 
 
 The duel with knives is the only one that 
 exists in Mexico, and is solely left to the 
 people of the lowest classes. This duel has 
 its rules, which can not be broken under any 
 pretext. The knives usually employed, have 
 blades from fourteen to sixteen laches in. 
 length, and the duellists fight according to 
 the gravity of the insult, with one, two, 
 three, six inches, or the entire blade. The 
 inches are carefully measured, and the hand 
 clutches the knife at the marked spot. 
 
 This time it was a duel with the whole 
 blade, the most terrible of all. With extra- 
 ordinary politeness and coolness the laud- 
 lord had a large ring formed in the middle 
 of the room, where the two adversaries 
 stationed themselves, about six paces from 
 ach other at the most. 
 
 A deep silence hung over the room, a mo- 
 ment previously so full of life and disturb- 
 ance : every one anxiously awaited the de- 
 nouement of the terrible drama that was pre- 
 paring. Fray Ambrosio alone had not quit- 
 ted his scat or made a sign. 
 
 The two men rolled their xurapes round 
 their left arms, planted themselves firmly on 
 their outstretched legs, bent their bodies 
 slightly forward, and gently placing the 
 point of the knife-blade on the arm rounded 
 in front of the chest, they waited, fixing on 
 each other flashing glances. A few seconds- 
 elapsed, during which the adversaries re- 
 mained perfectly motionless : all hearts, 
 were contracted, all bosoms heaving. 
 
 Striking was the scene offered by these 
 men, with their weather-stained faces and 
 harsh features, and their clothes in rags,, 
 forming a circle round the two combatants 
 ready to kill each other in this mean room,, 
 slightly illumined by a smoky lamp, which 
 Hashed upon the blue blades of the knives ; 
 and in the shadow, almost disappearing in 
 his black gown, the monk, with his impla- 
 cable glance and mocking smile, who, like a 
 tiger thirsting for blood, awaited the hour 
 to pounce on his prey. 
 
 Suddenly, by a spontaneous movement 
 rapid as lightning, the adversaries rushed 
 on each other, uttering a yell of fury. The 
 blades flashed, there was a clashing of steel, 
 and both fell back again. Joaquin and To- 
 maso had both dealt the same stroke, called, 
 in the slang of the country, the " blow of 
 the brave man." Each had'his face slashed 
 from top to bottom. 
 
 The spectators frenziedly applauded this 
 magnificent opening scene. 
 
 " What a glorious fight !" they exclaimed 
 with admiration. 
 
 In the mean while the two combatants 
 were again watching for the moment to leap 
 on one another. Suddenly they broke 
 ground; but this time it was no skirmish, 
 but the real fight, atrocious and merciless. 
 They seized each other round the waist, and, 
 entwined like serpents, they twisted about, 
 uud excited themselves to the struggle by 
 cries of rage and triumph. The enthusiasm 
 of the spectators was at its hight : they 
 laughed, clapped hands, and uttered inartic- 
 ulate howls as they urged the fighters not to 
 loose their hold. 
 
 At length the enemies rolled on the 
 ground still enclasped. For some seconds 
 the fight still continued on the ground, and 
 it was impossible to distinguish who was 
 conqueror. All at once one of them bound- 
 ed to his feet brandishing his knife. It was 
 Joaquin. 
 
 His brother rushed toward him to congrat- 
 ulate him on his victory, but suddenly the 
 gold-seeker tottered and fainted. Tomaso 
 did not rise again: he remained motionless, 
 stretched out on the uneven floor. He was 
 dead. 
 
 This scene had been s<? rapid, its conclu- 
 
THE TRAM-HUNTER. 
 
 sion so unforeseen, that, hi spite of them- 
 selves, the spectators had remained dumb, 
 and as if struck with stupor. Suddenly the 
 priest, whom all had forgotten, rose and 
 walked into the center of the room, looking 
 round with a glance that caused all to let 
 their eyes fall. 
 
 " Retire, all of you," he said in a gloomy 
 voice, " now that you have allowed this 
 deed worthy of savageo to be accomplished. 
 The priest, must offer his ministry, and get 
 back from the demon, if there be 'still time, 
 the soul of this Christian who is about to 
 die. Begone !" 
 
 The adventurers hung their heads, and in 
 a few moments the priest was left alone with 
 the two men, one of wham was dead, the 
 other at the last gasp. No one could say 
 what occurred in that room ; but when the 
 priest left, a quarter of an hour later, his 
 eyes flashed wildly. Joaquin had given his 
 parting sigh. On opening the door to go 
 out, Fray Ambrosio jostled against a man, 
 who drew back sharply to make room for 
 hitn. It was Andres Garote. What Avas he 
 doing with his eye at the key-hole while the 
 monk was shriving his brother ? 
 
 The adventurer told no one what he had 
 seen during this last quarter of an hour, 
 nor did the monk notice in the shade the 
 man he had almost thrown down. 
 
 Such was the way in Avhieh Fray Ambro- 
 sio became master of the gold-seeker's sn- 
 cret, and how he alone knew at present the 
 spot where the placer was. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 TWO VARIETIES OF VLLLA1K*. 
 
 Now that the reader is well informed 
 touching Fray Ambrosio, we will follow him 
 on his road home. The night was calm, si- 
 lent, and serene. Not a sound troubled the 
 silence, save the trot of the mule over the 
 pebbles on the road, or at times, in the dis- 
 tance, the snapping bark of the coyotes 
 chasing in a pack, according to their wont, 
 some straggling hind. 
 
 Fray Ambrosio ambled gently on, while 
 reflecting on the events of the evening, and 
 calculating mentally the probable profits of 
 the expedition he meditated. He had left 
 far behind him the last houses of the village, 
 and was advancing cautiously along a narrow 
 path that wound through an immense sugar- 
 cane field. Already the shadow of the farm- 
 house walls stood out blackly in the hori- 
 /on. He expected to reach it in twenty 
 minutes, when suddenly his mule, which 
 had hitherto gone so quietly, pricked up its 
 ears, raised its head, and stopped short. 
 
 Roughly aroused from his meditations by 
 this unexpected halt, the monk looked about 
 for some obstacle that might impede his 
 progress. About ten paces from him a man 
 was standing in the middle of the path. 
 
 Fray Ambrosio was a man not easily to be 
 frightened : besides, he was well armed. He 
 drew out one of the pistols hidden under 
 his gown, cocked it, and prepared to cross- 
 question the person who so resolutely barred 
 his way. But the latter, at the sharp sound 
 of setting the hammer, thought it prudent 
 to make himself known, and uoi await the 
 consequences of an address nearly always 
 stormy under similar circumstances. 
 
 " Hallo !" he shouted in a loud voice, 
 " return your pistol to your belt, Fray Am- 
 brosio; 1 only want to talk with } r ou." 
 
 " The hour and moment are singularly 
 chosen for a friendly conversation, my good 
 fellow," said the monk. 
 
 " Time belongs to nobody," the stranger 
 answered senteutiously. "I am obliged to 
 choose that which I have at my disposal." 
 
 " That is true," the monk said as lie 
 quietly uncocked his pistol, though not re- 
 turning it to his belt. u Who are you, and 
 why are you so anxious to speak with me ? 
 Do you want to confess?" 
 
 " Have you not recognized me yet, Fray 
 Ambrosio ? Must I tell you my name that 
 you may know with whom you have to 
 deal?" 
 
 " Needless, my good sir, needless ; but 
 how is it, Red Cedar, that 1 meet you here ? 
 What can you have so pressing to communi- 
 cate to me ?" 
 
 " You shall know if you will stop for a 
 l'e\v moments and dismount." 
 
 " The deuce take you with your whims! 
 Can not you tell me that as well to-morrow ? 
 Night is getting on, my home is still some 
 distance off, and I am literally worn out." 
 
 " Bah ! you will sleep capitally by the side 
 of a ditch, where you could not be more 
 comfortable. Besides, what I have to say to 
 you does not admit of delay." 
 
 " You wish to make a proposal to me, 
 then ?" 
 Yes." 
 
 What about, if you please ?" 
 About the affair we discussed this even- 
 ing at the Paso." 
 
 Why, I fancied that we had settled all 
 that, and you accepted my offer." 
 
 " Not yet, not yet, my master. That will 
 depend upon the conversation we are about 
 to have, so you had better dismount and sit 
 down quietly by my side ; for if you don't do 
 it, it will come to nothing." 
 
 " The deuce take people who change their 
 minds every minute, and on whom one can 
 not reckon more than on an old surplice!" 
 the monk growled with an air of annoyance, 
 while, for all that, getting off his inule, 
 which he fastened to a shrub. 
 
 The squatter did not seem to remark the 
 chaplain's ill-temper, and let him sit down 
 by his side without uttering a syllable. 
 
 " Here I am," the monk went on, so soon 
 as he was seated. " I really do not know, 
 Red Cedar, why I yield so easily to all your 
 whims." 
 
THE MOltK CORNERED. 
 
 '* Because you suspect that your interest 
 depends on it : were it not for that you woiild 
 not do so. 1 ' 
 
 " Why talk thus in the open country, in 
 >toad oi' going to your house, where we 
 hould be much more comfortable?" 
 
 Red Cedar shook his head in denial. 
 
 " No," he said; " the open is better for 
 what we have to talk about. Ik-re, we need 
 not fear listeners at our doors." 
 
 " That is true. Well, go on ; I am listen 
 ing." 
 
 " Hum! you insist upon my dorirtnanding 
 the expedition you project?" 
 
 u Of course. I have known you a long- 
 time. I am aware that you are a sure man, 
 perfectly versed in Indian signs ; for if I am 
 not mistaken, the greater part of your life 
 has been spent among them." 
 
 " Do not speak about what I have done. 
 The question now concerns you, and not 
 inc." 
 
 " How so?" 
 
 "Good, good! Let me speak. You 
 need me, so it is to my interest to make 
 you pay as dearly as 1 can for me." 
 
 " Eh?" the monk muttered, as he made a 
 grimace. " I am not rich, as you are 
 aware.' ' 
 
 "Yes, yes; I know that, so soon as y<ou 
 have a few piastres or ounces, the monte 
 table strips you of them immediately." 
 
 " Hang it ! I have always been unlucky at 
 play." 
 
 " For that reason I do not intend asking 
 you for money." 
 
 "Very good. If you have no designs on 
 my purse we can easily come to an under- 
 standing. You may speak boldly." 
 
 "I hope that we shall easily understand 
 one another, the more so as the service I 
 expect from you is almost a mere nothing." 
 
 "Come to the point, Red Cedar: and 
 leave off twining your phrases together." 
 
 " You know that I have a deadly hatred 
 against Don Miguel Zarate ?" 
 
 " I have heard some say about it. Did he 
 not lodge his knife somewhere in your 
 chest?" 
 
 " Yes, and the blow was so rude that I all 
 but died of it; but, I am on my legs again, 
 after remaining for nearly three weeks on my 
 back like a east sheep. I want my re- 
 
 can' t help saying you are right : in 
 your place, may Satan twist my neck if I 
 would not do the same !" 
 
 "For that I count on your help." 
 
 " Hum ! that is a delicate affair. I have no 
 cause of complaint against Don Miguel on 
 the contrary : besides, I do not see how I 
 can serve you." 
 
 "You shall see." 
 
 "Go on, then; lam listening." 
 
 " He has a daughter !" 
 
 " Donna Clara." 
 
 "I mean to carry her off." 
 
 44 Deuce take the mad ideas 'that pass 
 
 through your brain-pan ! How would you 
 have me help you in carrying off the daugh- 
 ter of Don Miguel, to whom I owe BO many 
 obligations ? No, I can not do that, in- 
 deed." 
 
 " You must, though." 
 
 "I will not, I tell you." 
 
 "Measure your words well, Fray Ambro- 
 sio, for this conversation is serious. Before 
 refu&ing so peremptorily to give me the help 
 J u? k, reflect well." 
 
 " I have reflected, Red Cedar, and never 
 will I consent to help you in carrying off the 
 daughter of my benefactor. Say what you 
 like, nothing will ever change my resolu- 
 tion on that head, for it is inflexible." 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 " Oh ! whatever may happen, I swear that 
 nothing will make me alter." 
 
 " Swear not, Fray Ambrosio, for you will 
 be a perjurer." 
 
 "Ta, ta, ta! you are mad, my good fel- 
 low. Don't let us waste our time. If you 
 have nothing else to say to me I will leave 
 you, though I take such pleasure in your 
 society." 
 
 The two men were standing, and the monk 
 had put his foot in the stirrup. Red Cedar 
 also appeared ready to make a start. At 
 the moment of separation a sudden idea 
 seemed to occur to the squatter. "By the 
 way," he said, carelessly, " be kind enough 
 to give me some information I require." 
 
 " What is it now ?" the monk asked. 
 
 " Oh ! a, mere trifle," the squatter remark- 
 ed, indifferently. "It concerns a certain 
 Don Pedro Tudela, whom I think you for- 
 merly knew." 
 
 " Eh ?" the monk exclaimed, as he turned 
 with his leg still in the air. 
 
 "Come, come, Fray Ambrosio," Red Ce- 
 dar continued, in a jeering voice, "let us 
 have a little more talk together. I will tell 
 you, if you like, a very remarkable story 
 about this Don Pedro, with whom you 
 were acquainted." 
 
 The monk was livid ; a nervous tremor 
 agitated all his limbs ; he let loose his mule's 
 bridle, and followed the squatter mechanic- 
 ally, who seated himself tranquilly on the 
 ground, making him a sign to do the same. 
 The monk fell, suppressing a sigh, and 
 wiping away the drops of cold perspiration 
 that beaded on his forehead. 
 
 " Eh, eh !" the squatter continued at the 
 end of a moment, " we must allow that Don 
 Pedro was a charming gentleman a little 
 wild, perhaps ; but what would you have ? 
 He was young. I remember meeting him 
 at Albany a long time ago how old one 
 gets ! at the house of one wait awhile, 
 the name has slipped my memory could 
 you not help me to it, Fray Ambrosio ?" 
 
 " I do not know what you mean," the 
 monk said, in a hollow voice. 
 
 The man was in a state that would have 
 produced pity; the veins in his forehead 
 were swollen ready to burst : he was chok- 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 ing; his right hand clutched the hilt of his 
 dagger ; and he bent on the squatter a 
 glance full of deadly hatred. The latter 
 seemed to see nothing of all this. 
 
 " I have it!" he continued. " The man's 
 name was Walter Brunnel, a very worthy 
 gentle-man." 
 
 "Demon!" the monk howled, in a gasp- 
 ing voice, " I know not who made you mas- 
 ter of that horrible secret, but you shall 
 die." 
 
 Aud he rushed upon him dagger in hand. 
 
 Red Cedar had known Fra}'' Ambrosio a 
 long time, and was on his guard. By a 
 rapid movement he checked his arm, twisted 
 it, and seized the dagger, which he threw a 
 long distance off. 
 
 "Enough!" he said, in a harsh voice. 
 "We understand one another, my master. 
 Do not play that game with me, for you will 
 be sick of it, I warn you." 
 
 The monk fell back on the ground, with- 
 out the strength to make a sign or utter a 
 syllable. The squatter regarded him for a 
 moment with mingled pity and contempt, 
 and shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " For sixteen years I have held this se- 
 cret," he said, "and it has never passed my 
 lips. I will continue to keep silence on 
 one condition." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " I want you to help me in carrying off 
 thehaciendero's daughter." 
 
 "1 will do it." 
 
 " Good ! I count on your word. Besides, 
 you may be easy, master : I will watch you.'' 
 
 "Enough of threats. What is to be 
 done?" 
 
 " Whem do we start lor Apacheria ?" 
 
 " You are corning, then?" 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 A sinister smile played round the monk's 
 pale lips. 
 
 " We shall start in a week," he said. 
 
 " Good ! On the day of the start you will 
 hand over the girl to me, one hour before 
 our departure." 
 
 " What shall 1 do to compel her to follow 
 me ?" 
 
 " That Is not my business." 
 
 " Be it so," the monk said, with an effort. 
 "I will do it; but remember, if lever hold 
 you in my hands, as I am this day in yours, 
 I shall be pitiless, and make you pay for all 
 I suffer at this moment." 
 
 " You will be right to do so it is your 
 due : still I doubt whether you will ever be 
 able to reach me." 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 " Live and learn. In the meanwhile I am 
 your master, and I reckon on your obedi- 
 ence." 
 
 " I will obey." 
 
 "That is settled. Now one thing more: 
 how many men have you enlisted this eve- 
 ning?" * 
 
 "About twenty." 
 
 44 That's not many; but, with the sixty I 
 
 shall supply, we shall have a very decent 
 
 band to hold the Indians in check." 
 
 " May heaven grant it !" 
 
 "Don't be alarmed, my master," the 
 squatter said, re-assuming the friendly tone 
 which he employed at the outset of tke 
 conversation ; " I pledge myself to lead you 
 straight to your pJacer. 1 have not lived 
 ten years with the Indians not to be up to 
 all their tricks." 
 
 " Of course," the monk answered as he 
 rose, "you know, Red Cedar, what was 
 agreed upon : the placer will be shared be- 
 tween us. It is, therefore, to your interest 
 to enable us to reach it without obstacle." 
 
 " We shall reach it. Now that we have 
 nothing more to say to each other, and have 
 agreed on all points for we have done so, 
 I think?" he said, significantly. 
 
 "Yes, all." 
 
 "We can part, and go each home. No 
 matter, my master ! I told yon that I should 
 succeed in making .you alter your mind. 
 Look you, Fray Ambrosio," he added, in an 
 impudent tone, which made the monk turn 
 pale with rage, "people need only to un- 
 derstand one another to do any thing." 
 
 He rose, threw his rifle over his shoulder, 
 and turning away sharply, went off with 
 lengthened strides. The monk remained 
 for a moment as if stunned by what had 
 happened. Suddenly he thrust his hand 
 under his gown, seized a pistol, and aimed 
 at the squatter. But ere he had time to pull 
 the trigger his enemy disappeared, utter- 
 ing a formidable burst of laughter, which 
 the mocking echo bore to his ear, and re- 
 vealed to him all the immensity of his 
 impotence. 
 
 " Oh!" he muttered, as he got in the sad 
 die, "how did this demon discover the se 
 ci-et which I believed no one knew ?" 
 And he went off gloomy and thoughtful. 
 Half an hour later he reached the farm, 
 when the gate was opened for him by a trus- 
 ty peon, for everybody was asleep. It was 
 past midnight. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 THE HUNTER'S CAVE. 
 
 WE will now return to Don Miguel, who, 
 accompanied by his two friends, is g'allop- 
 ing at full speed in the direction of Valen- 
 tine's hut. Around them nature grew more 
 abrupt, the scenery sterner. They had left 
 the forest, and were galloping over a wide 
 and arid plain. On each side of the way 
 the trees, becoming rarer, defiled like a le- 
 gion of phantoms. They crossed several 
 tributary streams of the Del Norte, in which 
 their horses were immersed up to the chest. 
 
 At length they entered a ravine deeply 
 imbedded between two wooded hills, the soil 
 of which was composed of large flat stones 
 and rounded pebbles. They had reached 
 the Canon del Buitve, so named on account 
 
THE GROTTO. 
 
 41 
 
 i 
 
 of the numerous vultures constantly perch- 
 ed on the tops of the surrounding hills. 
 
 The defile was deserted, and Valentine 
 had his cabin not far from this spot. So 
 soon as the three men had dismounted, 
 Curumilla took the horses and led them to 
 the jacal. 
 
 " Follow me," Valentine said to Don 
 Miguel. 
 
 The latter obeyed, and the two men be- 
 gan then climbing the escarped flanks of 
 the right-hand hill. The climb was rude, 
 for no road was traced ; but the two hunt- 
 ers, long accustomed to force a passage 
 through the most impracticable places, seem- 
 ed hardly to perceive the difficulty of the 
 ascent, which would have been impossible 
 for men less used to a desert life. 
 
 "This spot is really delicious," Valentine 
 said, with the complacent simplicity of a 
 land-owner who boasts of his estate*. "If 
 it were day, Don Miguel, you would enjoy 
 from this spot a magnificent view." 
 
 " But where are you leading me, my 
 friend ? Are you aware that the road is not 
 one of the pleasantest, and I am beginning 
 to feel tired ?" 
 
 "A little patience: in ten minutes we 
 shall arrive. I am leading you to a natural 
 grotto which I discovered a short time back. 
 It is admirable. At any rate, I was so struck 
 by its beauty that I temporarily abandoned 
 my cabin, and converted it into my residence. 
 Its extent is immense. I am certain, though 
 I never tried to convince myself, that it goes 
 for more than ten leagues under ground. I 
 will not allude to the stalactites that hang 
 from the roof, and form the quaintest and 
 most curious designs ; but stay we have ar- 
 rived." 
 
 In fact, they found themselves in front of 
 a gloomy, gaping orifice, about ten feet high 
 by eight wide. 
 
 " Let me do the honors of my mansion," 
 Valentine said. 
 
 " Do so, my friend." 
 
 The two men entered the grotto : the 
 huntei struck a match, and lit a torch of 
 candle-wood. The fairy picture which sud- 
 denly rose before Don Miguel drew from him 
 a cry of admiration. There was an indescrib- 
 able confusion : here a Gothic chapel, with 
 its graceful, soaring pillars : further on, obe- 
 lisks, cones, trunks of trees covered with 
 moss and acanthus leaves, hollow stalactites 
 of a cylindrical form, drawn together and 
 ranged side by side like the pipes of an or- 
 gan, and yielding to the slightest touch va- 
 ried metallic sounds which completed the il- 
 lusion. Then, in the immeasurable depths 
 of these cavernous halls, at times formid- 
 able sounds arose, which, returned by the 
 echoes, rolled along the sides of the grotto 
 like peals of thunder. 
 
 Oh, it is grand, it is grand !" Don Mig- 
 
 1 exclaimed, struck with fear and respect 
 
 the sight. 
 
 " Does not man," Valentine answered, 
 
 " feel very small and miserable before these 
 sublime creations of nature, which God has 
 scattered here as if in sport ? Oh, my friend ! 
 it is only in the desert that we understand 
 the grandeur and infinite omnipotence of the 
 Supreme Being; for at every step man finds 
 himself face to face with Him who placed 
 him on this earth, and traces the mark of 
 His mighty finger engraved in an indelible 
 manner on every thing that presents itself 
 to his sight." 
 
 '.' Yes^~" Don Miguel said, who had sudden- 
 ly become thoughtful, "it is only in the 
 desert that a man learns to know, love, and 
 fear God, for He is everywhere." 
 
 " Come," said Valentine. 
 
 He led his friend to a hall of not more 
 than twenty square feet, the vault of which, 
 however, was more than a hundred yards 
 above them. In this hull a lire was lighted, 
 The two men sat down on the ground and 
 waited, while thinking deeply. After a few 
 moments the sound of footsteps was audible, 
 and the Mexican quickly raised his head. 
 Valentine did not stir, for he had recognized 
 his friend's tread. In fact, within a moment 
 the Indian chief appeared. 
 
 "Well?" Valentine asked him. 
 
 " Nothing yet," Curumilla laconically an- 
 swered. 
 
 " They are late, I fancy," Don Miguel ob- 
 served. 
 
 " No," the chief continued, " it is hardly 
 past eleven: we are before our time." 
 
 " But will they find us here?" 
 
 " They know we shall await them in this 
 hall." ' 
 
 After these few words each fell back into 
 hi? thoughts. The silence was only troubled 
 by the mysterious sounds of the grotto, 
 which reechoed nearly at equal intervals 
 with a horrific din. Along period elapsed. 
 All at once, ere any sensible noise had warn- 
 ed Don Miguel, Valentine raised his head 
 with a hurried movement. 
 
 " Here they are," he said. 
 
 " You are mistaken, my friend," Don 
 Miguel observed; " I heard nothing." 
 
 The hunter smiled. 
 
 " If you had spent," he said, " as we 
 have, ten years in the desert, interrogating 
 the mysterious voices of the night, your ear 
 would be habituated to the vague rumors 
 and sighs of nature which have no meaning 
 to you at this moment, but which have all 
 a significance for me, and, so to speak, a 
 voice every note of which 1 understand, and 
 you would not say 1 was mistaken. Ask 
 the chief: you will hear his answer." 
 
 " Two men are climbing the hill at this 
 moment," Curumilla answered sententious- 
 ly. " They are an Indian and a white man." 
 
 " How can you recognize the distinc- 
 tion?" 
 
 " Very easily," Valentine responded with 
 a smile. " The Indian wears moccasins, 
 which touch the ground without producing 
 any other sound than u species of friction; 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 the step is sure ami unhesitating, as taken 
 by a man accustomed to walk in the desert, 
 and only put down his foot firmly : the white 
 man wears high-heeled boots, which at each 
 step produce a distinct and loud sound ; the 
 spurs fastened to his boots give out a con- 
 tinous metallic clink ; the step is awkward 
 and timid; at each moment a stone or 
 crumble of earth rolls away under the foot, 
 which is only put down hesitatingly. It is 
 easy to see that the man thus walking is ac- 
 customed to a horse, and does not know 
 the use of his feet. Stay ! they are now en- 
 tering the grotto : you will soon hear the 
 signal." 
 
 At this moment the cry of the coyote was 
 raised thrice at equal intervals. Valentine 
 answered by a similar cry. 
 
 " Well, was I mistaken?" he said. 
 
 " 1 know not what to think, my friend. 
 What astonishes me most is that you heard 
 them so long before they arrived." 
 
 " The ground of this cave is an excellent 
 conductor of sound," the hunter answered 
 simply : that is all the mystery." 
 
 " The !" Don Miguel could not refrain 
 from saying; "you neglect nothing, I 
 fancy." 
 
 " If a man wants to live in the desert he 
 must neglect nothing : the smallest things 
 have their importance, and an observation 
 carefully made may often save a man's life." 
 
 While these few words were being exchang- 
 ed between the two friends the noise of foot- 
 steps was drawing nearer and nearer. Two 
 men appeared : one was Eagle-wing, the 
 chief of the Coras : the second, General 
 Ibanez. 
 
 The General was a man of about thirty- 
 five, tall and well-built, with a delicate and 
 intelligent face. His manners were graceful 
 and noble. He bowed cordially to the haci- 
 cndero and Valentine, squeezed Curumilla's 
 hand, and fell down in a sitting posture by 
 the fire. 
 
 " Ouf !" he said. " I am done, gentlemen. 
 I have just ridden an awful distance. My 
 poo>* horse is foundered, and to recover my- 
 self I made an ascent, during which I 
 thought twenty times I must break down ; 
 and that would have infallibly happened, 
 had not friend Eagle-wing charitably come 
 to my aid. I must confess that these Indians 
 climb like real cats." 
 
 " At length you have arrived, my friend," 
 Don Miguel answered. " Heaven be prais- 
 ed ! I was anxious to see yon." 
 
 " For my part I confess that my im- 
 patience was equally lively, especially since 
 I learned the treachery of that scoundrelly 
 Red Cedar. That humbug of a Wood sent 
 him to me with so warm a recommendation 
 that, in spite of all my prudence, I let my- 
 self be taken in, and nearly told him all our 
 secrets. Unfortunately the little I did let 
 him know is sufficient to have us shot a hun- 
 dred times like vulgar conspirators of no 
 consequence." 
 
 "Do not feel alarmed, my friend. After 
 what Valentine told me to-day we hare, 
 perchance, a way of foiling the tricks of the 
 infamous spy who has denounced us." 
 
 " May Heaven grant it ! But nothing will 
 remove my impression that Wood has some- 
 thing to do with what has happened to us. 
 I always doubted that man, who is as cold 
 as an iceberg, sour as a glass of lemonade, 
 and methodical as an old Quaker." 
 
 "Who knows, my friend? Perhaps you 
 are right. Unfortunately what is done can 
 not be helped, and our retrospective re- 
 criminations will do us no good." 
 
 " That is true; but, as you know, man is 
 the same everywhere. When he has com- 
 mitted a folly he is happy to find a scape- 
 goat on which he can lay the iniquities with 
 which he reproaches himself. That is slight- 
 ly my case at this moment." 
 
 "Do not take more blame on yourself, 
 my friend, than you deserve : I guarantee 
 your integrity and the loyalty of your sen- 
 timents. Whatever may happen, be per- 
 suaded that I will always do you justice, 
 and, if needed, defend you against all." 
 
 "Thanks, Don Miguel. What you say 
 causes me. pleasure, and reconciles me with 
 myself. I needed the assurance you give 
 me in order to regain some slight courage, 
 and not let myself be completely crushed 
 by the unforeseen blow which threatens to 
 overthrow our hopes at the very moment 
 when we expected to find them realized." 
 
 " Come, come, gentlemen," Valentine 
 said, " time is slipping away, and we have 
 none to waste. Let us seek to find the 
 means by which to repair the check we have 
 suffered. If you permit me 1 will submit to 
 your approval a plan which, I believe, com- 
 bines all the desirable chances of success, 
 and will turn in our favor the very treach- 
 ery to which we have fallen victims." 
 
 " Speak, speak, my friend!" the two wen 
 exclaimed, as they prepared to listen. 
 
 Valentine took the word. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 FATHER SEKAPHIN. 
 
 "GENTLEMEN," said Valentine, "this is 
 what I propose. The treachery of Red Ce- 
 dar, in surrendering to the Government the 
 secret of your conspiracy, places you in a 
 critical position, from which you can not 
 escape save by violent measures. You are 
 between life and death. You have no al- 
 ternative save victory or defeat. The pow- 
 der is fired, the ground is mined under your 
 feet, and an explosion is imminent. Well, 
 then, pick up the glove treachery throws to 
 you accept frankly the position offered you 
 Do not wait till you are attacked, but com 
 rnence the contest. Your enemies will be 
 terrified by your boldness dashed by this 
 uprising which they are far from expecting 
 
A WELCOME GUEST. 
 
 especially now, when they imagine they 
 hold in their hands all the threads of the 
 conspiracy an error which makes them put 
 faith in the revelations of a common spy, 
 and will ruin them if you act with skill 
 above all, with promptitude. All depends 
 on the first blow. It must be terrible, and 
 terrify them: if not, you are lost." 
 
 "All that is true; but we lack time," 
 General Ibanez observed. 
 
 " Time is never lacking when a man knows 
 how to employ it properly," Valentine an- 
 swered, peremptorily. " I repeat, you must 
 be beforehand with your adversaries." 
 
 .At this moment the sound of footsteps 
 was heard under the vault of the cave. The 
 most extreme' silence at once reigned in the 
 chamber where the five conspirators were 
 assembled. Mechanically each sought bis 
 weapons. The steps rapidly approached, 
 and a man appeared in the entrance of the 
 hall. On seeing him all present uttered a 
 cry of joy and rose respectfully, repeating, 
 " Father Seraphin !" 
 
 The man advanced smiling, bowed grace- 
 fully, and answered in a gentle and melodi- 
 ous voice, which went straight to the soul : 
 
 " Take your places again, gentlemen, I 
 beg of you. I should be truly vexed if I 
 caused you any disturbance. Permit me on- 
 ly to sit down for a few moments by your 
 side." 
 
 They hastened to make room for him. 
 Let us say in a few words who this person 
 was, whose unexpected arrival caused so 
 much pleasure to the people assembled in 
 the grotto. 
 
 Father Seraphiu was a man of twenty-four 
 at the most. In spite of fatigues and harsh 
 labors, which had left numerous traces on 
 his face, his whole person exhaled a perfume 
 of youth and health. 
 
 He was a Frenchman, and belonged to the 
 order of the Lazarists. For five years lie 
 had been traversing, as an indefatigable niis- 
 riary, with no other weapon than his 
 ', the unexplored solitudes of Texas and 
 
 ew Mexico, preaching the Gospel to the 
 
 "ians, while caring nothing for the terri- 
 
 e privations and nameless sufferings he in- 
 
 sssantly endured, and the death constantly 
 suspended over his head. 
 
 Father Seraphin had gained the friendship 
 and respect of all those with whom accident 
 had brought him into contact. Charmed 
 with meeting a fellow-countryman in the 
 midst of those vast solitudes so distant from 
 that France he never hoped to see again, he 
 had attached himself closely to Valentine, 
 to whom he vowed a deep and sincere af- 
 fection. From the same motives, the hunter, 
 who admired the greatness of character of 
 this priest so full of true religion, felt him- 
 self drawn to him by an irresistible liking. 
 They had frequently taken long journe3 7 s 
 together, the hunter guiding his friend to 
 the Indian tribes acrobs the desolate regions 
 of Apacheria, 
 
 So soon as Father Seraphin had taken his 
 
 Elace near the tire, Eagle-wing and Curumilla 
 astened to offer him all those slight serv- 
 ices which they fancied might be agreeable 
 to him, and offered him a few lumps of roast 
 venison witli maize. The missionary gladly 
 gratified the two chiefs, and accepted their 
 offerings. 
 
 "It is a long time since we saw you, 
 father," the liaciendero said. "You neg- 
 lect us. My daughter asked me about you 
 only two days ago, for she is anxious to see 
 you." 
 
 "Clara is an angel who does not require 
 me," the missionary replied, gently. " I 
 have spent nearly two months with the 
 Comanche tribe of the Tortoise. Those 
 poor Indians claim all my care. They are 
 thirsting for the Divine Word." 
 
 "Do you reckon on staying long among 
 us?" 
 
 "Yes ; this last journey has fatigued me 
 extremely. My health is in a deplorable- 
 state, and I absolutely need a few days' rest 
 in order to regain the requisite strength to 
 continue my ministry." 
 
 " Well, father, come with me to the Farm : 
 you will remain with us, and make us all 
 truly happy." 
 
 "I was going to make that request to you, 
 Don Miguel. I am delighted that you have 
 thus met my wishes. If I accept your 
 obliging offer, it is because I know I shall 
 not incommode you." 
 
 "On the contrary, we shall be delighted 
 to have you among us." 
 
 "Ah! I know the goodness of your 
 heart." 
 
 " Do not make me better than I am, fath- 
 er : there is a spice of egotism in what I am 
 doing." 
 
 " How so?" 
 
 "Hang it! by laboring at the education 
 of the Indians you render an immense ser- 
 vice to the race I have the honor of belong- 
 ing to ; for I, too, am an Indian." 
 
 "That is true," the priest answered, with 
 a laugh. "Come, I absolve you from the 
 sin of egotism, in favor of the intention 
 which makes you commit it." 
 
 " Father," Valentine then said, "is the 
 game plentiful in the desert just at present ?' ' 
 
 " Yes, there is a great deal : the buffaloes 
 have come down from the mountains in 
 herds the elks, the deer, and the antelopes 
 swarm." 
 
 Valentine rubbed his hands. 
 
 " It will be a good season," he said. 
 
 "Yes, for you. As for myself, I have no 
 cause of complaint, for the Indians have 
 been most attentive tome.*' 
 
 " All the better. I ever tremble when I 
 know you are among those red devils. I do 
 not speak of the Comanches, who are warriors 
 I esteem, and have always displayed the sin- 
 cerest affection for you ; but I have a terri- 
 ble fear lest those villains of Apaches may 
 play you a wicked trick some fine day." 
 
44 
 
 THE TRAIL- HUNTER. 
 
 " Why entertain such ideas, my friend ?" 
 " They are correct. You can not imagine 
 what treacherous and cruel cowards those 
 Apache thieves are. I know them, and 
 carry their marks ; but do not frighten your- 
 self. If ever they ventured on any extremi- 
 ties against you, I know the road to their 
 villages : there is not a nook in the desert 
 which I have not thoroughly explored. It 
 is not for nothing I have received the name 
 of the ' Trail-hunter.' I swear to you I will 
 not leave them a scalp." 
 
 " Valentine, you know I do not like to 
 hear you speak so. The Indians are poor 
 ignorant men, who know not what they do, 
 and must be pardoned for the evil they com- 
 mit." 
 
 "All right all right!" the hunter growl- 
 ed. "You have your ideas on that score, 
 and I mine." 
 
 "Yes," the missionary replied, with a 
 smile, "but I believe mine the better." 
 
 " It is possible. You know I do not dis- 
 cuss that subject with you ; for I know not 
 how you do it, but you always succeed in 
 proving to me that I am wrong." 
 
 Everybody laughed at this sally. 
 
 " And what are the Indians doing at this 
 moment?" Valentine continued. "Are 
 they still fighting ?" 
 
 "No; I succeeded in bringing Unicorn, 
 the principal chief of the Comanches, and 
 Stanapat (the Handful of Blood,) the Apache 
 sachem, to an interview, at which peace was 
 sworn." 
 
 "Hum!" Valentine said, incredulously, 
 " that peace will not last long, for Unicorn 
 has too many reasons to owe the Apaches a 
 grudge." 
 
 " Nothing leads to the supposition, at 
 present, that your forebodings will be speedi- 
 ly realized." 
 
 " Why so ?" 
 
 "Because, when I left Unicorn, he was 
 preparing for a grand buffalo-hunt, in which 
 live hundred picked warriors were to take 
 part." 
 
 "Ah, ah! and where do you think the 
 hunt will take place, father ?" 
 
 "I know for a certainty, because, when I 
 left Unicorn, he begged me to invite you to 
 it, as he knew I should see you shortly." 
 
 "I willingly accept, for a buffalo-hunt al- 
 ways had great attractions for me." 
 
 "You will not have far to go to find Uni- 
 corn, for he is scarce ten leagues from this 
 place." 
 
 "The hunt will take place, then, in the 
 7ieighborhood?" 
 
 "The meeting -place is Yellowstone 
 Plain." 
 
 " I shall not fail to be there, father. Ah ! 
 I am delighted, more than you can suppose, 
 at the happy news you have brought me." 
 
 " All the better, my friend. Now, gentle- 
 men, I will ask you to excuse me ; for I feel 
 so broken with fatigue that, with your per- 
 mission, I will go and take a lew hours' res>t." 
 
 " I was a fool not to think of it before," 
 Valentine exclaimed with vexation as hft 
 struck his forehead. " Pardon me, father." 
 " I thought for my brother," said Curu- 
 milla. " If my father will follow me all is 
 ready." 
 
 The missionary thanked him with a smile 
 and rose, bowed to all present, and, support- 
 ed by Eagle-wing, he followed Curumilla in- 
 to another chamber of the grotto. Father 
 Seraphin found a bed of dry leaves covered 
 with bear-skins, and a fire so arranged as to 
 burn all night. The two Indians retired 
 after bowing respectfully to the father, and 
 assuring themselves that he needed nothing 
 more. 
 
 After kneeling on the ground of the grot- 
 to, Father Seraphin laid himself on his bed 
 of leaves, crossed his arms on his chest, and 
 fell into that child-like sleep which only the 
 just enjoy. After his departure Valentine 
 bent over to his two friends. 
 
 " All is saved," he said in a low voice. 
 " How ? Explain yourself," they eagerly 
 answered. 
 
 " Listen to me. You will spend the night 
 here : at daybreak you will start for the 
 Farm accompanied by Father Seraphin." 
 "Good! What next?" 
 " General Ibanez will proceed, as from 
 you, to the Governor, and invite him to a 
 grand hunt of wild horses, to take place in 
 three days." 
 
 " I do not understand what you are driv- 
 ing at." 
 
 " That is not necessary at this moment. 
 Let me guide you ; but above all arrange it 
 so that all the authorities of the town accept 
 your invitation and are present at the 
 hunt." 
 
 " That I take on myself." 
 " Very good. You, General, will collect all 
 the men you can, so that they can support 
 you on a given signal, but hide themselves 
 so that no one can suspect their presence." 
 "Very good," Don Miguel answered: 
 " all shall be done as you recommend. But 
 where will you be all this while ?" 
 
 " You know very well," he answered with 
 a smile of undefinable meaning. " I shall 
 be hunting the buffalo with my friend Uni- 
 corn, the great chief of the Comanches." 
 
 Hastily breaking off the interview, the 
 hunter wrapped himself in his buffalo-robe, 
 stretched himself before the fire, closed his 
 eyes, and slept, or feigned to sleep. After 
 a few minutes' hesitation his friends imitated 
 his example, and the grotto became calm 
 and silent as on the day of the creation. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 UNICORN. 
 
 BEFORE retiring to rest, Father Seraphin, 
 on the previous evening, had whispered a 
 couple of word* in the Indians' ears. The 
 
ON 
 
 on had scarce begun to rise a little above 
 the extreme blue line of the horizon ere the 
 missionary opened his eyes, and after a short 
 prayer hurried to the hall in which his com- 
 panions had remained. The four men were 
 still asleep, wrapped in their furs and buffalo- 
 skins. 
 
 " Wake up, brothers," Father Seraphin 
 said, " for day is appearing." 
 
 The four men started up in an instant. 
 
 It was a magnificent morning; thousands 
 of birds, hidden beneath the foliage, salu- 
 ted the birth of day with their harmonious 
 songs; a fickle breeze poured through the 
 branches, and refreshed the air ; in the dis- 
 tance, as far as eye could extend, undulated 
 the prairie, with its oceans of tall grass in- 
 cessantly agitated by the hurried footfalls 
 of the wild beasts returning to their dens. 
 An hour later, Don Miguel, General Ibanez, 
 and the missionary took leave of Valentine, 
 and, mounted on their horses, which Curu- 
 milla had led to the entrance of the ravine, 
 they started at a gallop in the directiofi of 
 the Paso del Norte, whence they were about 
 twenty leagues distant. Valentine and the 
 two Indian chiefs remained behind. 
 
 " I am about to leave my brother," Eagle- 
 wing said. 
 
 "Why not remain with us, chief?" 
 
 " My pale brother no longer requires 
 Eagle-wing. The chief hears the cries of 
 the men and women of his tribe who were 
 cowardly assassinated, and demand venge- 
 ance." 
 
 "Where goes my brother?" the hunter 
 asked, who was too' thoroughly acquainted 
 with the character of the Indians to try and 
 change the warrior's determination, though 
 he was vexed at his departure. 
 
 " The Coras dwell in villages on the banks 
 of the Colorado. Eagle-wing is returning 
 to his friends. He will ask for warriors to 
 avenge his brothers who are dead." 
 
 Valentine bowed. 
 
 "May the Great Spirit protect my fath- 
 er!" he said. "The road is long to the 
 villages of his tribe. The chief is leaving 
 friends who love him." 
 
 "Eagle- wing knows it: he will remem- 
 ber," the chief said, with a deep intonation. 
 
 And, after pressing the hands the two 
 hunters held out to him, he bounded on his 
 horse, and soon disappeared in the windings 
 of the canon. Valentine watched his de- 
 parture with a sad and melancholy look. 
 
 " Shall I ever see him again?" he mur- 
 mured. "He is an Indian: he is following 
 his vengeance. It is his nature : he obeys 
 it, and God will judge him. Every man 
 must obey his destiny^" 
 
 The hunter threw his rifle on his shoulder 
 and started in his turn, followed by Curu- 
 milla. Valentine and his comrade were on 
 foot: they preferred that mode of traveling, 
 which seemed to them sure, and quite as 
 quick as on horseback. The two men, after 
 the Indian custom, walked one behind the 
 
 45 
 
 other, not uttering a syllable ; but toward 
 mid-day the heat became so insupportable, 
 that they were obliged to stop to take a 
 few moments' repose. At length the sun- 
 beams lost their strength, the evening 
 breeze rose, and the hunters could resume 
 their journey. They soon reached the banks 
 of the Rio Puerco (Dirty River,) which they 
 began ascending, keeping as close as they 
 could to the banks, while following the 
 tracks made since time immemorial by wild 
 animals coming down to drink. 
 
 The man unacquainted with the splendid 
 American scenery will have a difficulty in 
 imagining the imposing and savage majesty 
 of the prairie the huuters were traversing. 
 The river, studded Avith islets covered with 
 cottomvood trees, flowed silent and rapid 
 between banks of slight elevation, aud over- 
 grown with grass so tall that it obeyed the 
 impulse of the wind, and for a great dis- 
 tance northward the ground was broad- 
 cast Avith large lumps of pebble resembling 
 grave-stones. 
 
 At a few hundred yards from the river 
 rose a conical mound, bearing on its summit 
 a granite obelisk one hundred and twenty 
 feet in hight. The Indians, who, like all 
 primitive nations, are caught by any thing 
 strange, frequently assembled at this spot. 
 
 A great number of buffalo-skulls, piled 
 up at the foot of the column, and arranged 
 in circles, ellipses, and other geometrical 
 figures, attest their piety for this god of the 
 hunt, whose protecting spirit, they say, 
 looks down from the top of the monolith. 
 Here and there grew patches of the Indian 
 potato, wild onion, prairie tomato, and 
 those millions of strange flowers and trees 
 composing the American flora. The rest of 
 the country Avas covered Avith tall grass, 
 continually undulating beneath the light 
 footfall of the graceful antelopes or big- 
 horns, which bounded from one rock to the 
 other, startled by the approach of the travel- 
 ers. 
 
 Far, far away on the horizon, mingled with 
 the azure of the sky, appeared the denuded 
 peaks of the lofty mountains that serve as 
 unassailable fortresses to the Indians : their 
 summits, covered with eternal SHOAV, formed 
 the frame of this immense and imposing 
 picture, which Avas stamped Avith a gloomy 
 and mysterious grandeur. 
 
 At the hour Avhen the maukawis uttered 
 its last song to salute the setting of the 
 sun, Avhich, half plunged in the purple of 
 evening, still jaspered the sky Avith long red 
 bands, the travelers perceived the tents of 
 the Comanches picturesquely grouped on 
 the sides of a verdurous hill. The Indians 
 had, in a few hours, improvised a real village 
 Avith their buffalo-skin tents, aligned to 
 form streets and squares. 
 
 On arriving at about live hundred yards 
 from the village the hunters suddenly per- 
 ceived an Indian horseman. Evincing not 
 the slightest surorise. thev stouoed anduu- 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 folded their buffalo-robes, which floated in 
 the breeze, as a signal of peace. The horse- 
 man uttered a loud cry. At this signal for 
 it was evidently one a troop of Comanche. 
 warriors debouched at a gallop from the vil- 
 lage, and poured like a torrent down the 
 sides of the hill, coming up close to the mo- 
 tionless travelers, brandishing their weapons, 
 and uttering their war-yell. 
 
 The hunters waited, carelessly leaning on 
 their guns. Assuredly, to a man not ac- 
 quainted with the singular manners of the 
 prairie, this mode of reception would have 
 seemed overt hostilities. But it was not so ; 
 for, on coming within range of the hunters, 
 the Comanches began making their horses 
 leap and curvet, and deploj'ing right and left 
 formed a vast circle, inclosing the two men. 
 
 Then a horseman quitted the group, dis- 
 mounted, and rapidly approached the new- 
 comers : the latter hastened to meet him. 
 All three had their arms extended with the 
 palm forward in sign of peace. The Indian 
 who thus advanced to meet the hunters was 
 Unicorn, the great chief of the Comanches. 
 
 As a distinctive sign of his race, his skin 
 was of a red tinge, brighter than the palest 
 new copper. He was a man of thirty at the 
 most, with masculine and expressive fea- 
 tures ; his face possessed a remarkable in- 
 telligence, and was stamped with that natu- 
 ral majesty found among the savage children 
 of the prairie ; he was tall and well-built ; 
 and his muscular limbs evidenced a vigor 
 and suppleness against which few men would 
 have contended with advantage. 
 
 He was completely painted and armed for 
 war: his black hair was drawn up on his 
 head in the form of a casque, and fell down 
 his back like a mane ; a profusion of wam- 
 pum collars, claws of grizzly bear, and buf- 
 falo-teeth adorned his breast, on which was 
 painted with rare dexterity a blue tortoise, 
 the distinctive sign of the tribe to which he 
 belonged, and of the size of a hand. 
 
 The rest of his costume was composed of 
 the mitasses, fastened round the hips by a 
 leathern belt, and descending to the ankles; 
 a deer-skin shirt, with long hanging sleeves, 
 the seams of which, like those of the mi- 
 tasse, were fringed with leather strips and 
 leathers ; a wide cloak, of the hide of a fe- 
 male buffalo, was fastened across h is shoul- 
 ders with a buckle of pure gold, and fell 
 down to the ground ; on his feet he had ele- 
 gant moccasins of different colors, embroi- 
 dered with beads and porcupine-quills, from 
 the heels of which trailed several wolf-tails ; 
 alight round shield, covered with buffalo- 
 hide, and decorated with human scalps, 
 hung on his left side by his panther-skin 
 quiver full of arrows. His weapons were 
 those of the Comanche Indians ; that is to 
 say, the scalping-knife, the tomahawk, a 
 bow, and an American ritle ; but a long 
 whip, the handle of which, painted red, was 
 adorned with scalps, indicated his rank as 
 cbief. 
 
 When the three men were close together 
 they saluted each other by raising their 
 hands to their foreheads; then Valentine 
 and Unicorn crossed their arms by passing 
 the right hand over the left shoulder, and 
 bowing their heads at the same time, kissed 
 each other's mouth after the prairie fashion. 
 Unicorn then saluted Curumilla in the same 
 way ; and this preliminary ceremony termi- 
 nated, the Comauche chief took the word. 
 
 "My brothers are welcome at the village 
 of my tribe," he said. "I was expecting 
 them impatiently. I had begged the Chief 
 of Prayer of the pale-faces to invite them in 
 my name." 
 
 " He performed his promise last night. I 
 thank my brother for having thought of 
 me." 
 
 " The two stranger great hunters are 
 friends of Unicorn. His heart was sad not 
 to see them near him for the buffalo-hunt 
 his young people are prepa,rmg." 
 
 'SjElere we are ! We set out this morning 
 at sunrise." 
 
 "My brothers will follow me, and rest at 
 the council-lire." 
 
 The hunters bowed an assent. Each re- 
 ceived a horse, and at a signal from Unicorn, 
 who had placed himself between them, the 
 troop started at a gallop, and returned to 
 the village, which it entered to the deafen- 
 ing sounds of drums, chikikouh, shouts of 
 joy from the women and children who sa- 
 luted their return, and the furious barking 
 of the dogs. When the chiefs were seated 
 round the council-fire the pipe was lit, 
 and ceremoniously presented to the two 
 strangers, who smoked in silence for some 
 minutes. When the pipe had gone the 
 round several times, Unicorn addressed Val- 
 entine : 
 
 " Koutonepi is a great hunter," he said to 
 him ; " he has often followed the buffalo on 
 the plains of the Dirty River. The chief 
 will tell him the preparations he has made, 
 that the hunter may give his opinion." 
 
 "It is needless, chief," Valentine replied. 
 " The buffalo is the friend of the red-skins : 
 the Comanches know all its stratagems. I 
 should like to ask a question of my broth- 
 er." 
 
 "The hunter can speak: my ears are 
 open." 
 
 " How long will the chief remain on the 
 hunting-grounds with his young men ?" 
 
 " About a week. The buffaloes are sus- 
 picious : my young men are surrounding 
 them, but they can not drive them in out- 
 direction before four or five days." 
 
 Valentine gave a start of joy. 
 
 "Good!" lie said. "Is my brother sure 
 of it?" 
 
 " Ver\" sure." 
 
 " How many warriors have remained with 
 the chief!" 
 
 " About four hundred : the rest are scat- 
 tered over the plain to announce the ap- 
 proach of the buffaloes." 
 
HARK /. WHOOP ! HALLOO ! 
 
 " Good ! If my brother likes I will pro- 
 cure him a fine hunt within three days." 
 
 "Ah!" the chief exclaimed, "then my 
 brother has started some game ?" 
 
 ''Oh!" Valentine answered with a. laugh, 
 "let ray brother trust to me, and I promise 
 him rich spoils." 
 
 " Good ! Of what game does my brother 
 speak?" 
 
 " Of gdchitpinoB* In two days they will 
 meet iu large numbers not far from here." 
 
 "Wan!" said the Comauche, whose eyes 
 sparkled at this news, " my young men will 
 hunt them. My brother must explain." 
 
 Valentine shook his head. 
 
 " My words are for the ears of a chief," he 
 said. 
 
 Without replying, Unicorn made a signal : 
 the Indians rose silently, and left the tent. 
 Curumilla and Unicorn alone remained near 
 the h're. Valentine then explained to the 
 Comauche, in its fullest details, the plan he 
 had conceived, in the execution of which the 
 aid of the Indians was indispensable to him. 
 Unicorn listened attentively without inter- 
 rupting. When Valentine had ended : 
 . " What does my brother think ?" the lat- 
 ter asked, fixing a scrutinizing glance on 
 the impassive countenance of the chief. 
 
 " Wah !" the other replied, " the pale-face 
 is verv crafty. Unicorn will do what he de- 
 sires." 
 
 This assurance filled Valentine's heart 
 with joy. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE HUXT OF THE WILD HORSES. 
 
 Dox MIGUEL ZARATE and his two friends 
 did not reach the hacienda till late. They 
 were received in the porch by Don Pablo 
 and Donna Clara, who manifested great joy 
 at the sight of the French missionary, for 
 whom they felt a sincere esteem and great 
 friendship. Spite of all his care, Fray Am- 
 brosio had always seen his advances repelled 
 by the young people, in whom he instinct- 
 ively inspired that fear mingled with disgust 
 that is experienced at the sight of a reptile. 
 "ouna Clara, who was very pious, carried 
 
 his repulsion to such a pitch that she only 
 
 confessed her faults and approached the 
 
 holy table when Father Seraphiu came to 
 
 spend a few days at the hacienda. 
 
 Fray Ambrosio was too adroit to appear 
 
 3 notice the effect his presence produced 
 on the children : he feigned to attribute to 
 timidity and indifference on religous mat- 
 ters what was in reality a strongly-expressed 
 loathing for himself personally. But in his 
 heart a dull hatred fermented against the 
 two young folk, and especially against the 
 missionary, whom he had several times al- 
 ready attempted to destroy by well-laid 
 snares. Father Seraphin had always escap- 
 * Wearers of shoes a name ^iveii by the In- 
 ! Spaniards at the conquest. 
 
 snares, >a 
 
 * Wearers 
 
 diane to the 
 
 ed them by a providential chance : but ia 
 spite of the chaplain's obsequious advances, 
 and the offers of service he did not fail to 
 overwhelm him with each time they met, 
 the missionary had thoroughly read the 
 Mexican monk. He had guessed what fear- 
 ful corruption was hidden beneath his ap- 
 parent simplicity and feigned piety; and 
 while keeping to himself the certainty lie 
 had acquired, he remained on his guard, 
 and carefully watched this man, whom he 
 suspected of incessantly planning some dark 
 treachery against him. 
 
 Don Miguel left his children with the mis- 
 sionary, who immediately took possession 
 of him and dragged him away, lavishing on 
 him every possible attention. The hacien- 
 dero retired to his study with General Iba- 
 nez, when the two men drew up a list of the 
 persons they intended to invite that is to 
 say, the persons Valentine proposed to get 
 out of the way, though they were innocent 
 of his scheme. The General then mounted 
 his horse, and rode off to deliver the invita- 
 tions. For his part Don Miguel sent off a 
 dozen peons and vaqueros in search of the 
 wild horses, and to drive them gradually to- 
 ward the spot^tiosen for the hunt. 
 
 General Ibanez succeeded perfectly: the 
 invitations were gladly accepted, and the 
 next evening the guests began arriving, 
 Don Miguel receiving them with marks of 
 the most profound respect and lavish hospi- 
 tality. 
 
 The General Isturitz, Governor of Paso, 
 Don Luciano Perez, and seven or eight per- 
 sons of inferior rank, soon arrived at the 
 hacienda. At sunrise a numerous party, 
 composed of forty persons, proceeded, ac- 
 companied by a crowd of well-mounted pe- 
 ons, toward the meet. This was a vast plain 
 on the banks of the Rio del Norte, where 
 the wild horses were accustomed to graze 
 at this season. The caravan produced the 
 most singular and picturesque effect with 
 the brilliant costumes of the persons who 
 composed it, and their horses glittering with 
 gold and silver. Starting at about four A. M. 
 from the Farm, four hours later they reached 
 a clump of trees, beneath whose shade tents 
 had been raised and tables laid by Don Mig- 
 uel's orders, so that they might breakfast 
 before the hunt. 
 
 The riders, who had been journeying for 
 four hours, exposed to the rays of the" sun 
 and the dust, uttered a shout of joy at the 
 sight of the tents. Each dismounted; the 
 ladies were invited to do the same, among 
 them being the wife of General Isturitz, and 
 Donna Clara, and they gayly sat down around 
 the tables. 
 
 Toward the end of the breakfast Don Pa- 
 blo arrived, who had gone the evening pre- 
 viously to join the vaqueros. He announc- 
 ed that the horses had been started, that a 
 large drove was now crossing the Plain of 
 the Coyotes, watched by the vaqueros, and 
 that they must make haste if they wished 
 
43 
 
 TEE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 to have good! sport. This news augmented 
 the ardor of the hunters. The ladies were 
 left in camp under the guard of a dozen 
 well-armed peons, and the whole party 
 rushed at a gallop in the direction indicated 
 by Don Pablo. 
 
 The Plain of the Coyotes extended for an 
 enormous distance along the banks of the 
 river. Here aud there rose wooded hills, 
 which varied the landscape that was render- 
 ed monotonous by the tall grass, in which the 
 riders disappeared up to their waists. When 
 the hunting-party reached the skirt of the 
 plain, Don Miguel ordered a halt, that they 
 might hold a council, and hear the report 
 of uie leader of the vaqueros. 
 
 The race of wild horses that nowadays, 
 people the deserts of North America, and 
 especially of Mexico, is descended from Cor- 
 tez' cavalry. Hence it is a pure breed, for 
 at the period of the Spanish conquest only 
 Arab horses were employed. These horses 
 have multiplied in really an extraordinary 
 manner. It is not rare to meet with mana- 
 das of twenty and even thirty thousand 
 head. They are small, but gifted with an 
 energy and vigor of which it is impossible to 
 form a fair idea without having seen them. 
 They accomplish without fatigue journeys 
 of prodigious length. Their coat is the same 
 as that of other horses, save that during 
 winter it grows very long, and becomes friz- 
 zy like the wool of sheep. In spring this 
 species of fur falls of. The horses may be 
 easily trained. Generally, so soon as they 
 iind themselves caught, they easily submit 
 to the saddle. 
 
 The leader made his report. A drove of 
 about ten thousand head was two leagues, 
 off on the plain, quietly grazing in the com- 
 pany of a few elks and buffaloes. The hunt- 
 ers scaled a hill, from the top of which 
 they easily saw on the horizon a countless 
 mob of animals, grouped in the most pic- 
 turesque way, aud apparently not at all sus- 
 pecting the danger that threatened them. 
 
 After the vaquero's report, Don Miguel 
 and his friends held a council, and this is the 
 resolution they came to. They formed 
 what is called the grand circle of the wild 
 horses; that is to say, the most skillful riders 
 were echeloned in every direction at a cer- 
 tain distance from each other, so as to form 
 an immense circle. The wild horses are ex- 
 tremely suspicious : their instinct is so subtle 
 that the slightest breath of wind is sufficient 
 to carry to them the smell of their enemies, 
 and make them set off at headlong speed. 
 Hence it is necessary to act with the great- 
 est prudence, and use many precautions, if 
 a surprise is desired. 
 
 When all the preparations were made the 
 hunters dismounted, and dragging their 
 horses after them, glided through "the tall 
 grass so as to contract the circle. This ma- 
 neuver had gone on for some time, and they 
 had sensibly drawn nearer, when the drove 
 began to display some signs of restlessness. 
 
 The horses, which had hitherto grazed calm- 
 ly, raised their heads, pricked their ears, and 
 neighed as they inhaled the air. Suddenly 
 they collected, formed a compact band, and 
 started at a trot in the direction of some cot- 
 tonwood trees which stood on the banks of 
 the river. The hunt was about to commence. 
 
 At a signal from Don Miguel six well- 
 mounted vaqueros rushed at full speed ahead 
 of the drove, making their lassoes whistle 
 round their heads. The horses, startled by 
 the apparition of the riders, turned back 
 hastily, uttering snorts of terror, and fled 
 in another direction. But each time they 
 tried to force the circle, horsemen rode into 
 the midst of them, and compelled them to 
 turn back. 
 
 It is necessary to have been present at 
 such a chase, to have seen this hunt on the 
 prairies, to form an idea of the magnificent 
 sight offered by all these noble brutes, their 
 eyes afire, their mouths foaming, their heads 
 haughtily thrown up, and their manes flut- 
 tering in the wind, as they bounded and 
 galloped in the fatal circle the hunters had 
 formed round them. There is in such a 
 sight something intoxicating, which carries 
 away the most phlegmatic, and renders them 
 mad with enthusiasm and pleasure. 
 
 When this maneuver had lasted long 
 enough, and the horses began tc grow blind- 
 ed with terror, at a signal given by Don 
 Miguel the circle was broken at a certain 
 spot. The horses rushed, with a sound like 
 thunder, toward this issue which opened 
 before them, overturning with their chests 
 every thing that barred their progress. But 
 it was this the hunters expected. The 
 liorses, in their mad race, galloped on with- 
 out dreaming that the road they followed 
 grew gradually narrower in front of them, 
 and terminated in inevitable captivity. 
 
 Let us explain this termination of the 
 hunt. The manada had been cleverly guid- 
 ed by the hunters toward the entrance of 
 a canon, or ravine, which ran between two 
 rather lofty hills. At the end of this ra- 
 vine the vaqueros had formed, with stakes 
 .fifteen feet long, planted in the ground, and 
 firmly fastened together with cords of twist- 
 ed bark, an immense corral or inclosure, in- 
 to which the horses rushed without seeing 
 it. In less tJhan no time the corral was full ; 
 then the hunters went to meet the manada, 
 which they cut off at the risk of their lives, 
 while the others closed the entrance of the 
 corral. More than fifteen hundred magnifi- 
 cent wild horses were thus captured at one 
 stroke. 
 
 The noble animals rushed with snort* of 
 fury at the walls of the inclosure, frying to 
 tear up the stakes with their teeth and dash- 
 ing madly against them. At length they re- 
 cognized the futility of their efforts, lay 
 down, and remained motionless. In the 
 mean while a tremendous struggle was go- 
 ing on in the ravine between the hunters 
 and the rest of the inanada. The horses 
 
A SAKE-BACK RIDE. 
 
 
 confined in this narrow space made extra- 
 ordinary efforts to open a passage and fly 
 anew. They neighed, stamped, and flew at 
 every thing that came within tl\eir reach. 
 AJ, length they succeeded in regaining their 
 first direction, and rushed into the plain 
 -with the velocity of an avalanche. Several 
 vaqueros had been dismounted and tramp- 
 led on by the horses, and two of them had 
 received such injuries that they were car- 
 ried off the ground in a state of insensi- 
 bility. 
 
 With all the impetuosity of youth, Don 
 Pablo had rushed into the very heart of the 
 inanada. Suddenly his horse received a kick 
 which broke its off fore leg, and it fell to the 
 ground, dragging its rider with it. The hunt- 
 ers uttered a cry of terror and agony. lu 
 the midst of this band of maddened horses 
 the young man was lost, for he must be 
 trampled to death under their hoofs. But 
 he rose with the rapidity of lightning, and 
 quick as thought seizing the mane of the 
 nearest horse, he leaped on its back, and 
 held on by his knees. The horses were so 
 pressed against one another that any other 
 position was impossible. Then a strange 
 thing occurred an extraordinary struggle 
 between the horse and its rider. The noble 
 beast, furious at feeling its back dishonored 
 by the weight it bore, bounded, reared, rush- 
 ed forward; but all was useless, for Don 
 Pablo adhered firmly. 
 
 So long as it was in the ravine, the horse, 
 impeded by its comrades, could not do all 
 it might have wished to get rid of the bur- 
 den it bore ; but so soon as it found itself 
 on the plain it threw up its head, made 
 several leaps on one side, and then started 
 forward at a speed which took away the 
 young man's breath. 
 
 Don Pablo held on firmly by digging his 
 knees into the pan ting sides of his steed: he 
 unfastened his cravat, and prepared to play 
 the last scene in this drama,, which threaten- 
 ed to terminate in a tragic way for him. The 
 horse had changed its tactics : it was racing 
 in a straight line to the river, resolved to 
 drown itself with its rider sooner than sub- 
 mit. The hunters followed with an interest 
 mingled with terror the moving interludes 
 of this mad race, when suddenly the horse 
 changed its plans again, reared, and tried to 
 fall back with its rider. The hunters utter- 
 ed a shout of agony. Don Pablo clung con- 
 vulsively to the animal's neck, and, at the 
 moment it was falling back, he threw his 
 cravat over its eyes with extraordinary 
 skill. 
 
 The horse, suddenly blinded, fell back 
 again on its feet, and stood trembling with 
 terror. Then the young man dismounted, 
 put his face to the horse s head, and breath- 
 ed into its nostrils, while gently scratching 
 its forehead. This operation lasted ten 
 minutes at the most, the horse panting and 
 snorting, but not daring to leave the spot. 
 The Mexican again leaped on the horse's 
 
 back, and removed the bandage: it remained 
 stunned Don Pablo had tamed it. Every- 
 body rushed toward the young man, who 
 smiled proudly, in order to compliment him 
 on his splendid victory. He dismounted, 
 gave his horse to a vaquero, who immediate- 
 ly passed a bridle round its neck, and then 
 walked toward his father, who embraced 
 him tenderly. For more than an hour Don 
 Miguel had despaired of his son's life. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE SURPRISE. 
 
 So soon as the emotion caused by Don 
 Pablo's prowess was calmed they began 
 thinking about returning. The sun was de- 
 scending in the horizon : the whole day had 
 "been spent with the exciting incidents of 
 the chase. The Hacienda de la Noria was 
 nearly ten leagues distant : it was, therefore, 
 urgent to start as speedily as possible, unless 
 the party wished to run the risk of bivou- 
 acking in the open air. 
 
 The men would easily have put up with 
 this slight annoyance, which, in a climate 
 like that of New Mexico, and at this season 
 of the year, has nothing painful about it ; 
 but thay^ had ladies with them. Left one 
 or two leagues in the rear, they must feel 
 alarmed in the absence of the hunters an 
 absence which, as so frequently happens 
 when out hunting, had been protracted far 
 beyond all expectations. 
 
 Don Miguel gave the vaqueros orders to 
 brand the captured horses with his cipher ; 
 and the whole party then returned, la'ugh- 
 ing and singing, iu the direction of the tents 
 where the ladies had been left. The vaqueros 
 who had served as beaters during the day re- 
 mained behind to guard the horses. 
 
 In these countries, where there is scarce 
 any twilight, night succeeds the day almost 
 without transition. As soon as the sun had 
 set, the hunters found themselves in com- 
 plete dai'kness : for, as the sun descended on 
 the horizon, the shade invaded the sky in 
 equal proportions, and, at the moment when 
 the day-planet disappeared, the night was 
 complete. The desert, hitherto silent, 
 seemed to wake up all at once : the birds, 
 stupefied by the heat, commenced a formid- 
 able concert, in which joined at intervals, 
 from the inaccessible depths of the forest, 
 the snapping of the carcajous, and the bark- 
 ing of the coyotes mingled with the hoarse 
 howling of the wild beasts that had left their 
 dens to come down and drink in the river. 
 
 Then gradually the cries, the songs, and 
 the howling ceased, and nothing was audible 
 save the hunters' horses on the pebbles of 
 the road. A solemn silence seemed to brood 
 over this abrupt and primitive scenery. At 
 intervals the green tufts of the trees and the 
 tall grass bowed slowly with a prolonged 
 rustling of leaves and branches, as if a mys 
 
50 
 
 TSLJS T 
 
 terious breath passed over th'jnj. axC com- 
 pelled them to bend their heads There was 
 something at once striking and terrible in 
 the imposing appearance offered by the 
 prairie at this hour of the night, beneath 
 thisfiky studded with brilliant stars, which 
 sparkled like emeralds, in the presence of 
 this sublime immensity, which only suffer- 
 ed one voice to be heard that of Deity. 
 
 The young and enthusiastic man to whom 
 it is given to be present at such a specta- 
 cle feels a thrill run over all his body: be 
 experiences an undefinable feeling of hap- 
 piness and extraordinary pleasure on look- 
 ing round him at the desert, whose unex- 
 plored depths conceal from him so many se- 
 crets, and display to him Divine Majesty in 
 all its grandeur and omnipotence. 
 
 The hunters, so gay and talkative at the 
 start, had yielded to this omnipotent influ- 
 ence of the desert, and advanced rapidly 
 and silently, only exchanging a few syllables 
 at lengthened intervals. The profoundest 
 calm still continued to reign over the des- 
 ert ; and while, owing to the astonishing 
 transparency of the atmosphere, the eye 
 could embrace an enormous horizon, 
 nothing suspicious was visible. 
 
 The tire-flies buzzed carelessly round the 
 top of the grass, and the flickering fires 
 burning before the tents to which the hunt- 
 ers were bound could be already seen about 
 half a league ahead. At a signal from Don 
 Miguel the party, which had, up to the 
 present, only trotted, set out at a long can- 
 ter; for each felt anxious to leave a scene 
 which, in the darkness, had assumed a sin- 
 ister aspect. 
 
 They thus arrived within a hundred yards 
 of the fires, whose ruddy glow was reflect- 
 ed on the distant trees, when suddenly a 
 fearful yell crossed the air, and from behind 
 every bush out started an Indian horseman 
 brandishing his weapons, and making his 
 horse curvet round the white men, while ut- 
 tering the war-cry. The Mexicans, taken 
 unawares, were surrounded ere they had 
 sufficiently recovered from their stupor to 
 think about employing their weapons. At 
 a glance Don Miguel judged the position: 
 it was a critical one. The hunters were at 
 the most but twenty ; the number of Co- 
 manche warriors surrounding them was at 
 least three hundred. 
 
 The Comanches and Apaches are the 
 most implacable foes of the white race. In 
 their periodical invasions of the frontiers 
 they hardly ever make any prisoners : they 
 mercilessly kill all who fall into their hands. 
 Still the Mexicans rallied. Certain of the 
 fate that awaited them, they were resolved 
 to sell their lives dearly. There was a mo- 
 ment of supreme expectation before the 
 commencement of the deadly combat, when 
 suddenly an Indian galloped out of the 
 ranks of the warriors, and rode within three 
 paces of the little band. On arriving there 
 he stopped, and waved his buffalo-robe in 
 
 sign of peace. The Governor prepared to 
 speak. 
 
 " Let me carry on the negotiations," Don 
 Miguel said. " I know the Indians better 
 than you do, and perhaps I shall succeed in 
 getting out of this awkward position." 
 
 "Do so," the Governor answered. 
 
 General Ibanez was the only who had re- 
 mained calm and impassive since the sur- 
 prise : he did not make a move to seize his 
 weapons ; on the contrary, he crossed his 
 arms carelessly on his chest, and took a 
 mocking glance at his comrades, as he hum- 
 med a song. Don Pablo had placed himself 
 by his father's side, ready to defend him at 
 the peril of his life.' The Indian chief took 
 the word. 
 
 "Let the pale-faces listen," he said; "an 
 Indian sachem is about to speak." 
 
 "We have no time to spare in listening 
 to the insidious words which you areprepau- 
 ing to say to us," Don Miguel replied in a 
 haughty voice. " Withdraw, and do not 
 obstinately bar our passage, or there will be 
 blood spilt." 
 
 u The pale-faces will have brought it on 
 themselves," the Comanche answered in a 
 gentle voice. " The Indians mean no harm 
 to the pale warriors." 
 
 "Why then this sudden attack? The 
 chief is mad. We do not let ourselves be so 
 easily deceived as he seems to suppose : we 
 know very well that he wants our scalps." 
 
 "No; Unicorn wishes to make a bargain 
 with the pale-faces." 
 
 "Come, chief, explain yourself: perhaps 
 your intentions are as you describe them. I 
 do not wish to reproach myself with having 
 refused to listen to you." 
 
 The Indian smiled. 
 
 "Good!" he said. "The great white 
 chief is becoming reasonable. Let him lis- 
 ten, then, to the words Unicorn will pro- 
 nounce." 
 
 "Go on, chief; my comrades and myself 
 are listening." 
 
 " The pale-faces are thieving dogs," the 
 chief said in a rough voice ; " they carry on 
 a continual war with the red-skins, and buy 
 their scalps as if they were peltry ; but the 
 Comanches are magnanimous warriors, who 
 disdain to avenge themselves^. The squaws 
 of the white men are in their power : they 
 will restore them." 
 
 At these words a shudder of terror ran 
 along the ranks of the hunters ; their cour- 
 age failed them ; they had only one desire 
 left that of saving those who had so wretch- 
 edly fallen into the hands of these blood- 
 thirsty men. 
 
 " On what conditions vrill the Comanches 
 restore their prisoners ?" Don Miguel asked, 
 whose heart was contracted at the thought 
 of his daughter, who was also a prisoner. 
 He secretly cursed Valentine, whose fatal 
 advice was the sole cause of the frightful 
 evil that assailed him at this moment. . 
 
 "The pale-faces,'* the chief continued, 
 
AN AMBUBCADK 
 
 will dismount and arrange themselves in 
 a line. Unicorn will choose from his 
 enemies those whom he thinks proper to 
 
 irry off as prisoners;, the rest will be free, 
 md all the women restored." 
 
 Those conditions are harsh, chief. Can 
 
 >u not modify them ?" 
 'A chief has only one word. Do the 
 le-faces consent ?" 
 1 Let us consult together for a few mo- 
 
 lents at any rate." 
 
 " Good ! Let the white men consult. 
 
 Jiricorn grants them ten minutes,'' the chief 
 le answer. 
 
 And turning his horse, he went back to 
 
 Is men. Don Miguel then addressed his 
 
 iends. 
 
 " Well, what do yon think of what has oc- 
 
 irred?" 
 
 The Mexicans were terrified: still they 
 were compelled to allow that the conduct 
 )f the Indians was extraordinary, and that 
 
 ley had never before evinced such lenity. 
 Tow that reflection had followed on the 
 irst feeling of excitement, they understood 
 hat a struggle against enemies so numerous 
 was insensate, and could only result in rcn- 
 lering their position worse than it was be- 
 ~>re, and that the chiefs conditions, harsh 
 as they were, offered at least some chance 
 of safety for a portion of them, and the la- 
 dies would be saved. 
 
 This last and all-powerful consideration de- 
 cided them. Don Miguel had no occasion 
 convince them of the necessity of sub- 
 mission. Whatever struggle it cost them, 
 they dismounted and arranged themselves 
 in line, as the chief had demanded, Don 
 Miguel and his son placing themselves at the 
 head. 
 
 Unicorn, with that cool courage character- 
 istic of the Indians, then advanced alone to- 
 ward the Mexicans, who still had their 
 weapons, and who, impelled by their despair, 
 and at the risk of being all massacred, 
 would have sacrificed him to their venge- 
 ance. The chief had also dismounted. 
 With his hands crossed on his back, and 
 frowning brow, he now commenced his in- 
 spection. 
 
 Many a heart contracted at his approach, 
 for a question of life and death was being 
 decided for those hapless men : only the 
 perspective of the atrocious tortures which 
 menaced the ladies could have made them 
 consent to this humiliating and degrading 
 condition. The Unicorn, however, was 
 generous-: he only selected eight of the 
 Mexicans, and the rest received permission 
 to mount their horses, and leave the fatul 
 circle that begirt them. Still, by a strange 
 accident, or premeditation of which the 
 reason escaped them, these eight prisoners 
 among whom were the Governor, General 
 Isturitz, and the criminal judge, Don Luci- 
 ano Perez were the most important per- 
 sonages in the party, and the members of 
 the Provincial Government. 
 
 It was not without 9tfrprise that Don Mig- 
 uel observed this : the Comanches, however, 
 faithfully fulfilled their compact, and the la 
 dies were at once set at liberty. They had 
 been treated with the greatest respect by 
 the Indians, who had surprised their camp, 
 and seized them almost in the same way as 
 they had the hunters ; that is to say, the 
 camp was invaded simultaneously on all sides. 
 It was a matter worthy of remark in an am- 
 buscade that not a drop of blood had beeo- 
 spilt. 
 
 After the moments given up to the happi- 
 ness of seeing his daughter again safe and 
 sound, Don Miguel resolved to make a last 
 attempt with Unicorn in favor of the un- 
 happy men who remained in his hands. The 
 chief listened with deference, and let him 
 speak without interruption ; then he re- 
 plied, with a smiie whose expression the 
 other tried in vain to explain : 
 
 " My father has Indian blood in his veins ; 
 the red-skins love him : never will they do 
 him an injury. Unicorn would like to re- 
 store him immediately the prisoners, for 
 whom he cares yery little ; but that is im- 
 possible. My father himself would speedily 
 regret Unicorn's obedience to his wish; but, 
 in order to prove to my father how much 
 the chief desires to do a thing that will be 
 agreeable to him, the prisoners will not be 
 ill-treated, and will be let off with a few 
 days' annoyance. Unicorn consents to ac- 
 cept a ransom for them, instead of making 
 them slaves. My father .can himself tell 
 them this good news." 
 
 "Thanks, ohief," Don Miguel answered. 
 " The nobility of your character touches my 
 heart: I shall not forget it. Be persuaded 
 that, nnder all circumstances, I shall be hap- 
 py to prove to you how grateful I am." 
 
 The chief bowed gracefully and withdrew 
 in order to give the haciendero liberty to 
 communicate with his companions. The lat- 
 ter were seated sadly on the ground, gloomy 
 and downcast. Don Miguel repeated to- 
 them the conversation he had held with 
 Unicorn, and the promise he had made with 
 respect to them. This restored them. all. 
 their courage ; and, with the most affection- 
 ate words and marks of the liveliest joy, 
 they thanked him for the attempt'he had 
 made in their favor. 
 
 In fact, thanks to the promise of liberating 
 them for a ransom at the end of a week, and 
 treating them well during the period of 
 their captivity, there was nothing so very 
 terrifying about the prospect; and it was 
 one of those thousand annoyances to which 
 men are exposed by accident, but whose 
 proportions had been so reduced in their 
 e} r es, that, with the carelessness which forms 
 the staple of the national character, tliey 
 were the first to laugh at their mishap. 
 
 Don Miguel, however, was anxious to re- 
 tire ; so he took leave of his companions, 
 and rejoined the chief. The latter repeated 
 bis assurance that the prisoners should be 
 
62 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 free within a week, if they consented each 
 to pay a ransom of one thousand piastres, 
 which was a trifle. He assured the hacien- 
 dero that he was at liberty to withdraw when- 
 ever he pleased, and he should not oppose 
 his departure. 
 
 Don Miguel did not allow the invitation 
 to be repeated. His friends and himself 
 immediately mounted their horses, together 
 with the ladies, who were placed in the cen- 
 ter of the detachment; and after taking 
 leave of Unicorn, they dug their spurs into 
 their horses, and started at a gallop, glad 
 to have got off so cheaply. The camp-tires 
 were soon left far behind them, and General 
 Ibanez then approached his friend, and, 
 bending down to his ear, whispered : 
 
 " Don Miguel, can the Comanches be our 
 allies ? I fancy that they have this night 
 given a bold push to the success of our en- 
 terprise." 
 
 This thought, like a ray of light, had al- 
 ready crossed the proprietor's brain several 
 times. 
 
 "I do not know," he said, with a clever 
 smile ; "but at any rate, my dear General, 
 they are very adroit foes," 
 
 The little band continued to advance rap- 
 idly toward the hacienda, which was now no 
 great distance, and which they hoped to 
 reach before sunrise. The events we hare 
 described had occurred in less than an hour. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE MEETING.- 
 
 "BY Jove!" General Ibanez said, "it must 
 be confessed that these red devils have done 
 us an immense service without suspecting it. 
 It might be said, deuce take me, that they 
 acted under a knowledge of facts. This 
 Unicorn, as the chief is called, is a precious 
 man in certain circumstances. I am anxious 
 to cultivate his acquaintance, for no one 
 knows what may happen. It is often good 
 to have so intelligent a friend as him at 
 hand." 
 
 " You are ahvays jesting, General. When 
 will you be serious for once?" Don Miguel 
 said, with a smile. 
 
 " What would you have, my friend ? We 
 are at this moment staking our heads in a 
 desperate game, so let us at any rate keep 
 our gaycty. If we are conquered, it will be 
 time enough then to be sad, and make bitter 
 reflections about the instability of human 
 affairs." 
 
 " Yes, your philosophy is not without a 
 certain dose of fatalism, which renders it 
 more valuable to me. I am happy to see 
 you in this good temper, especially at a 
 moment when we are preparing to play out- 
 last card." 
 
 "AH is not desperate yet, and I have a se- 
 cret foreboding, on the contrary, that all 
 is for the best. Our friend the Trail-Hunt- 
 
 er, I feel convinced 1 , has something to do, if 
 net all, with what has happened to us." 
 
 " Do you believe it ?" Don Miguel asked, 
 quickly. 
 
 "I am certain of it. You know as well 
 as I do these Indies Bravos, and the implaca- 
 ble hatred they have vowed against us. The 
 war they wage with us is atrocious ; and for 
 them to be suddenly changed from wolves 
 into lambs requires some powerful motive to 
 make them act thus. People do not lay 
 aside in a moment a hatred which has en- 
 dured for ages. The Comanches, by the 
 choice they made, know the importance of 
 the prisoners they have seized. How is it 
 that they consent so easily to give them up 
 for a trifling ransom ? There is some inex- 
 plicable mystery in all this." 
 
 " Which is very easy to explain, though," 
 a laughing voice interrupted from behind 
 the shrubs. 
 
 The two Mexicans started, and checked 
 their horses. A man leaped from a thicket, 
 and suddenly appeared in the center of the 
 track the little band of hunters was follow- 
 ing. The latter, believing in a fresh attack 
 and treachery on the part of the Comanches, 
 seized their weapons. 
 
 " Stop !" Don Miguel said, sharply, " the 
 man is alone. Let me speak with him." 
 
 Each waited with his hand on his weapon. 
 
 "Hold!" Don Miguel continued, addres- 
 sing the stranger, who stood motionless, 
 carelessly resting on his gun. "Who are 
 you, my master?" 
 
 " Do you not recognize me, Don Miguel ? 
 and must I really tell you my name?" the 
 stranger answered, with a laugh. 
 
 "The Trail-hunter!" 
 
 " Himself," Valentine continued. " Hang 
 it all ! you take a long time to recognize 
 your friends." 
 
 " You will forgive us when you know all 
 that has happened to us, and how much we 
 must keep on pur guard." 
 
 " Confound it !" Valentine said, laughing- 
 ly, as he regulated his pace by the trot of 
 the horses, "do you fancy you are going to 
 tell me any news ? Did you not really sus- 
 pect from what quarter the blow came?" 
 
 "What!" Don Miguel exclaimed in sur- 
 prise, " did you " 
 
 "Who else but I? Do you think the 
 Spaniards are such friends of the Indians 
 that the latter would treat them so kindly 
 when meeting them face to face in the 
 desert?" 
 
 " I was sure of it," General Ibanez affirmed. 
 "I guessed it at ttie tirst moment." 
 
 " Good heavens ! nothing was more sim- 
 ple. Your position, through Red Cedar's 
 treachery, was most critical. I wished to 
 give you the time to turn round by remov- 
 ing, for a few days, the obstacles that pre- 
 vented the success of your plans. I have 
 succeeded, I fancy." 
 
 " You could not have managed better," 
 exclaimed the General, 
 
A BOLD S1MOKE. 
 
 "Oh!" Don Miguel said, with a reproach- 
 ful accent, " why did you hide it from me ?" 
 
 " For a very simple reason, my friend. I 
 rished that in these circumstances your will 
 
 id conscience should be free." 
 
 "But" 
 
 " Let me finish. Had I told you of my 
 plan, it is certain that you would have op- 
 posed it. You are a man of honor, Don 
 Miguel : your heart is most loyal." 
 
 "My friend" 
 
 "Answer me. Had I explained to yo 
 the plan I formed, what would you havt 
 done ?" 
 
 "Well" 
 
 " Answer frankly." 
 
 "I should have refused." 
 
 " I was sure of it. Why would you have 
 done so? Because you would never have 
 consented to violate' the laws of hospitality, 
 and betray enemies you sheltered beneath 
 your roof, though you knew all the while 
 that these men, on leaving you, would have 
 considered it their duty to seize you, and 
 that they watched your every movement 
 while sitting by your side, and eating at 
 your table. Is it not so ?" 
 
 "It is true: my honor as a gentleman 
 would have revolted. I could not have suf- 
 fered such horrible treachery to be carried 
 out under my very eyes." 
 
 " There ! you see that I acted wisely in 
 saying nothing to you. In that way your 
 honor is protected, your conscience" easy, 
 and I have iu the most simple fashion freed 
 you for some days from your enemies." 
 
 "That is true: still" 
 
 " What ? Have the prisoners to complain 
 of the way in which they have been treat- 
 ed?" 
 
 "Not at all; on the contrary, the Comiin- 
 ches, and Unicorn in particular, treated them 
 most kindly." 
 
 " All is for the best, then. You must con- 
 gratulate yourself on the unexpected suc- 
 cess you have achieved, and must now profit 
 by it without delay." 
 
 " I intend to do so." 
 
 " You must act at once." 
 
 ''I ask nothing better. All is ready. 
 Our men are warned, and they will rise at 
 the first signal." 
 
 " It must be given immediately." 
 
 " I only ask the time to leave my daugh- 
 ter at home; then, accompanied by my 
 friends, I will march on Paso, while General 
 Ibanez, at the head of a second band, seizes 
 Santa Fe\" 
 
 "The plan is well conceived. Can you 
 count on the persons who follow you?" " 
 
 "Yes; they arc all my relatives or 
 friends." 
 
 " All for the best. Let us not go further. 
 We are here at the place where the roads 
 
 rrt: let your horses breathe awhile, and 
 will tell you a plan I have formed, and 
 which, I think, will please you." 
 The small party halted The horsemen 
 
 dismounted, and lay down on the grass. As 
 all knew of the conspiracy formed by Don 
 Miguel, and were his accomplices in differ- 
 ent degrees, this halt did not surprise them, 
 for they suspected that the moment for ac- 
 tion was not far off, and that their chief 
 doubtless wished to take his final measures 
 before throwing off the mask, and proclaim- 
 ing the independence of New Mexico. On 
 inviting them to hunt the wild horses, Don 
 Miguel had not concealed from them Red 
 Cedar's treachery, and the necessity in 
 which he found himself of dealing a great 
 blow if he did not wish all to be hopelessly 
 lost. 
 
 Valentine led the haciendero and the Gen- 
 eral a short distance apart. When they wero 
 put of ear-shot the hunter carefully exam- 
 ined the neighborhood ; then within a few 
 minutes rejoined his friends, whom his way 
 of acting considerably perplexed. 
 
 "Friends," he said to them, "what do 
 you intend doing ? In your position min- 
 utes are ages. Are you ready to make your 
 pronunciamento ?" 
 
 " Yes," they answered. 
 
 " This is what I propose. You, Don Mig- 
 uel, will proceed direct on Paso. At about 
 half a league from that town you will find 
 Curumilla, with twenty of the best rifles on 
 the frontier. These men, in whom you 
 can trust, are Canadian and Indian hunters 
 devoted tome. They will form the nucleus 
 of a band sufficient for you to seize on Paso 
 without striking a blow, as it is only de- 
 fended by a garrison of forty soldiers. Does 
 that plan suit you ? 
 
 "Yes; I will set about it at once. But 
 my daughter?" 
 
 "I will take charge of her. You will al- 
 so leave me your son, and I will convey them 
 both to the hacienda. As for the other la- 
 dies, on reaching the town they will merely 
 go to their homes, which, I fancy, presents 
 no difficulty." 
 
 "None." 
 
 " Good ! Then that is settled ?" 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 " As for you, General, your men have eche- 
 loned by my care iu parties of ten and 
 twenty along the Santa F6 road, up to two 
 leagues of the city, so that you will only 
 have to pick them up. In this way you will 
 find yourself, within three hours, at the 
 head of five hundred resolute and well-arm- 
 ed men." 
 
 " Why, yalentine, my friend," the General 
 said, laughingly, " do you know there is the 
 stuff in you to make a partisan chief, and 
 that I am almost jealous of you ?" 
 
 " Oh ! you would be wrong, General : 1 
 assure you I am most disinterested in thin 
 affair." 
 
 " Well, my friend, I know it: you are a 
 free desert hunter, caring very little for our 
 paltry schemes." 
 
 "That is true ; but I have vowed to Don 
 Miguel and his family a friendship whkfh will 
 
mE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 only terminate with uiy life. I tremble for 
 him and his children when I think of the 
 numberless dangers that surround him, and 
 I try to aid him as far as my experienee and 
 activity permit me. That is the secret of 
 my conduct." 
 
 "This profession of faith was at least 
 useless, my friend. I have known you too 
 intimately and too long to have the least 
 doubt of your intentions. Hence, you see, 
 1 place such confidence in you, that I accept 
 your ideas without discussion, so convinced 
 am I of the purity of your intentions." 
 
 "Thanks, Don Miguel: you have judged 
 me correctly. Come, gentlemen, to horse, 
 and start. We must .separate here you, 
 Don Miguel, to proceed by the right-hand 
 track to Paso; you, General, by the left- 
 hand one to Santa Fe ; while I, with Don 
 Pablo and his sister, proceed straight on till 
 we reach the hacienda." 
 
 " To horse, then !" Don Miguel shouted, 
 resolutely; "and may God defend the 
 right!" 
 
 "Yes," the General added; "for from 
 this moment the revolution is commenced." 
 
 The three men returned to their friends. 
 Don Miguel said a few words to his children, 
 and in an instant the whole party were in 
 the saddle. 
 
 " The die is cast!" Valentine exclaimed. 
 " May heaven keep you, gentlemen !" 
 
 "Forward!" Don Miguel commanded. 
 
 "Forward!" General Ibanez shouted, as 
 he rushed in the opposite direction. 
 
 Valentine looked after his departing 
 friends. Their black outlines were soon 
 blended with the darkness, and then the 
 footfalls of their horses died out in the night. 
 Valentine gave a sigh and raised his head. 
 
 " God will protect them," he murmured; 
 then turning to the two young people, 
 " Come on, children," he said. 
 
 They started, and for some minutes kept 
 silence. Valentine was too busy in thought 
 to address his companions ; and yet Dona 
 Clara and Don Pablo, whose curiosity was 
 excited to the highest pitch, were burning 
 to question him. At length the girl, by 
 whose side the hunter marched with that 
 quick step which easily keeps up with a 
 horse, bent down to him. 
 
 "My friend," she said to him in her soft 
 voice, "what is taking place? Why has 
 my father left us, instead of coming to his 
 house?" 
 
 "Yes," Don Pablo added, "he seemed 
 agitated when he parted from us. His 
 voice was stern, his words sharp. What is 
 happening, my friend ? Why did not my 
 father consent to my accompanjdng him ?" 
 
 Valentine hesitated to answer. 
 
 " I implore you, my friend," Dona Clara 
 continued, " do not leave us in this mortal 
 anxiety. The announcement of a misfor- 
 tune would certainly cause us less pain than 
 thd perplexity in which, we are." 
 
 ** Why fdrc me to fepeak, my children ?" 
 
 the hunter answered in a saddened voictf 
 " The secret you ask of me is not mine. If 
 your father did not impart his plans to you, 
 it was doubtless because weighty reasons 
 oppose it. Do not force me to render you 
 more sorrowful by telling you things you 
 ought not to know.'' 
 
 ' ; But I am not a child," Don Pablo ex- 
 claimed. "It seems tome that rny father 
 ought not to have thus held his confidence 
 from me." 
 
 "Do not accuse your father, my friend," 
 Valentine answered, gravely: "probably 
 he could not have acted otherwise." 
 
 " Valentine, Valentine ! I will not accept 
 those poor reasons," the young man urged. 
 "In the name of our friendship I insist on 
 your explaining yourself." 
 
 "Silence!" the hunter suddenly inter- 
 rupted him. "I hear suspicious sounds 
 around us." 
 
 The three travelers stopped and listened, 
 but all was quiet. The house was about 
 live hundred yards at the most from the spot 
 where they halted. Don Pablo and Dona 
 Clara heard nothing, but Valentine made 
 them a sign to remain quiet : then he dis- 
 mounted and placed his ear to the ground. 
 
 "Follow me," he said. " Something is 
 happening here which I can not make out; 
 but it alarms me." 
 
 The young people obeyed without hesita- 
 tion ; but they had only gone a few paces 
 when Valentine stopped again. 
 
 " Are your weapons loaded ?" he sharply 
 asked Don Pablo. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Good! Perhaps you will have to make 
 use of them." 
 
 " All at once the gallop of a horse urged 
 to its utmost speed was audible. 
 
 " Attention !" Valentine muttered. 
 
 Still the horseman, whoever he might be, 
 rapidly advanced in the direction of the 
 travelers, and soon came up to them. Sud- 
 denly Valentine bounded like a panther, 
 seized the horse by the bridle, and stopped 
 it dead. 
 
 " Who are you, and where are you going ?* 
 he shouted, as he put a pistol-barrel against 
 the stranger's chest. 
 
 "Heaven be praised!" the latter said, not 
 replying to the question. " Perhaps I shall 
 be able to save you. Fly, fly, in all haste !" 
 
 "Father Seraphin!" Valentine said with 
 stupor, as he lowered his pistol. "What 
 has happened ?" 
 
 "Fly, fly !" the missionary repeated, who 
 seemed a prey to the most profound terror 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 
 
 RED CEDAR and Fray Ainbrosio had no 
 remained inactive, since their last interview 
 up to the dtfy when Don Migtffel e%t out ft 
 
THE TREACHEROUS FRIES! . 
 
 hunt the wild horses. These two fellows, 
 so suited to understand each other, had 
 maneuvered with extreme skill. Fray Am- 
 brosio, all whose avaricious instincts had 
 been aroused since he had so artfully stolen 
 from poor Joaquin the secret of the placer, 
 had assembled a formidable collection of 
 the bandits who always swarm on the In d inn 
 frontiers. In a few days he found himself at 
 the head of one hundred and twenty adven- 
 turers, all men who had cheated the gallows, 
 and of whom he felt the more sure as the 
 secret of the expedition was concealed from 
 them, and they fancied they formed a war- 
 party engaged to go scalp-hunting. 
 
 These men, who all knew Red Cedar by 
 reputation, burned to set out, so convinced 
 were they of carrying out a successful expe- 
 dition under such a leader. Only two men 
 formed an exception to this band of scoun- 
 drels. They were Harry and Dick, who, for 
 reasons the reader has doubtless guessed, 
 found themselves, to their great regret, mix- 
 ed up with these bandits. Still we must 
 say, in justice to Fray Ambrosio's soldiers, 
 that they were all bold hunters, accus- 
 tomed for many a year to desert life, who 
 knew all its perils, and feared none of its 
 dangers. 
 
 Fray Ambrosio, apprehending the effects 
 of too much liquor *i his men, had made 
 them bivouac at the entrance of the desert, 
 at a sufficiently great distance from the 
 town to prevent them easily going there. 
 The adventurers spent their time joyously 
 in playing, not for money, as they had none, 
 but for the scalps they intended presently 
 to lift from the Indians, each of which repre- 
 sented a very decent sum. Still Fray Am- 
 brosio, so soon as his expedition was com- 
 pletely organized, had only one desire to 
 start as speedily as possible ; but for two 
 days Red Cedar was not to be found. At 
 length Fray Ambrosio succeeded in catching 
 him just as k6 was entering his cabin. 
 
 "What has become of you ?" he asked 
 him. 
 
 "What does that concern you:"' the 
 squatter answered brutally. " Have I to an- 
 swer for my conduct to you?" 
 
 "I do not say so: still, connected as we 
 are at this moment, it would be as well for 
 me to know where to find you." 
 
 "I have been attending to my business, as 
 you have to yours." 
 
 " Well, are you satisfied ?" 
 
 " Very much so," he answered with a sin- 
 ister smile. " You will soon learn the re- 
 sult of my journey." 
 
 " All the better. If you are satisfied, I am 
 so too." 
 
 "Ah, ah!" 
 
 " Yes, all is ready for departure." 
 
 " Let us be off to-morrow if you like." 
 
 " Or this very night." 
 
 " Very good. You are like me, and don't 
 eare to travel by day on account of the heat 
 of the sun." 
 
 The two accomplices smiled at this deli- 
 cate j'est. 
 
 " But before starting," the squatter con- 
 tinued, becoming serious again, " we have 
 something left to do here." 
 
 "What is it?" Fray Ambrosio asked with 
 candor. 
 
 "It is WQiiderful what a short memory 
 you have. Take care : that failing may 
 play you an awkward trick some day." 
 
 " Thanks ! I will try to correct it." 
 
 " Yes, and the sooner the better: in the 
 mean while I will refresh your memory." 
 
 " I shall feel obliged to you." 
 
 "And Dona Clara, do you fancy we are 
 going to leave her behind ?" 
 
 ' ' Hum ! Then you still think of that ?' ' 
 
 " By Jove ! more than ever." 
 
 " The fact is it will not be easy to carry 
 her off at this moment." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " In the first place, she is not at the haci- 
 enda." 
 
 " That is certainly a reason." 
 
 "Is it not?" 
 
 "Yes; but she must be somewhere, I 
 suppose?" the squatter said with a coarse 
 laugh. 
 
 " She has gone with her father to a hunt 
 of wild horses." 
 
 " The hunt is over, and they are on their 
 return." 
 
 " You are well informed." 
 
 " It is my trade. Come, do yon still mean 
 serving me ?" 
 
 " I must." 
 
 " That is how I like you. There can not 
 be many people at the hacienda?" 
 
 "A dozen at the most." 
 
 " Better still. Listen to me: it is now 
 four in the afternoon. I have a ride to take. 
 Return to the hacienda, and I will come 
 there this evening at nine, with twenty res- 
 olute men. You will open the little gate of 
 the corral, and leave me to act. I will an- 
 swer for all." 
 
 "If you wish it, it must be so," Fray Am- 
 brosio said with a sigh. 
 
 "Are we going to begin again?" the 
 squatter asked in a menacing voice as he 
 rose. 
 
 "No, no, it is unnecessary," the monk ex- 
 claimed. " I shall expect you." 
 
 "Good: till this evening." 
 
 On which the two accomplices separated. 
 All happened as had been arranged between 
 them. At nine o'clock Red Cedar reached 
 the little gate, which was opened for him by 
 Fray Ambrosio, and the squatter entered at 
 the head of his three sons a*d a party of 
 bandits. The peons, surprised in their sleep, 
 were bound before they even knew what 
 was taking place. 
 
 " Now," Red Cedar said, " we are masters 
 of the place, the girl can come as soon as 
 she likes." 
 
 " Eh ?" the monk went on. " All is not 
 finished yet. Don Miguel is a re'solute man, 
 
THE TRAIL-HVNTER. 
 
 and ift well accompanied : he will not let his 
 daughter be carried oil under his eyes with- 
 out defending her." 
 
 "He will not come," the squatter said 
 with a sardonic grin. 
 
 " How do you know ?" 
 
 " That is not your business." 
 
 " We shall see." 
 
 But the bandits had forgotten Father Ser- 
 aph in. The missionary, arouaed by the un- 
 usual noise he heard, had hastily risen. He 
 had heard the few words exchanged between 
 the accomplices, and they were sufficient to 
 make him guess the fearful treachery they 
 meditated. Only listening to his heart, the 
 missionary glided out into the corral, sad- 
 dled ahorse, and opening a door, of which he 
 had a key, so that he could enter or leave 
 the hacienda as his duties required, he start- 
 ed at full speed in the direction which he 
 supposed the hunters must follow in return- 
 ing to the estate. Unfortunately Father 
 Seraphin had been unable to effect his flight 
 unheard by the squatter's practiced ears. 
 
 "Malediction!" Red Cedar shouted as he 
 rushed, rifle in hand, toward a window, 
 which he dashed out with his list, " we are 
 betrayed." 
 
 The bandits rushed in disorder into the 
 corral where their horses were tied up, and 
 leaped into their saddles. At this moment 
 a shadow flitted across the plain in front of 
 the squatter, who rapidly shouldered his 
 rifle and tired. Then he went out ; a stifled 
 cry reached his ear, but the person the ban- 
 dit had fired at still went on. 
 
 "No matter," the squatter muttered; 
 " that fine bird has lead in its wing. Sharp, 
 sharp, my men, on the trail!" 
 
 And all the bandits rushed off in pursuit 
 of the fugitive. 
 
 Father Seraphin had fallen in a fainting 
 condition at Valentine's feet. 
 
 " Good heavens !" the hunter exclaimed 
 in despair, " what can have happened ?" 
 
 And he gently carried the missionary into 
 a ditch that ran by the side of the road. 
 Father Seraphin had his shoulder fractured, 
 and the blood poured in a stream from the 
 wound. The hnuter looked around him ; 
 but at this moment a confused sound could 
 be heard like the rolling of distant thunder. 
 
 " What is the matter ?" he asked. 
 
 " Red Cedar," gasped Father Seraphin. 
 
 " We must fall like brave men, Don Pu- 
 bic," Valentine said sharply. 
 
 Dona Clara was pale and trembling. 
 
 " Come," Valentine said. 
 
 And, with a movement rapid as thought, 
 he bounded q^ to the missionary's horse. 
 The three fugitives started at full speed. 
 This flight lasted a quarter of an hour, and 
 then Valentine stopped. He dismounted, 
 gave the young people a signal to wait, lay 
 down on the ground, and began crawling on 
 his hands and knees through the long grass 
 that concealed him, and stopping at intervals 
 to listen attentively to the sounds of the 
 
 desert. Suddenly he rushed toward his com- 
 panions, seized their horses by the bridle, 
 and dragged them behind a mound, where 
 they remained concealed, breathless and un- 
 able to speak. 
 
 A formidable noise of horses was audible. 
 Some twenty black shadows passed like a 
 tornado within ten paces of their hiding- 
 place, not seeing them in consequence of 
 the darkness. Valentine drew a deep 
 breath. 
 
 " All hope is not lost," he muttered. 
 
 He waited anxiously for five minutes : 
 their pursuers were going further and 
 further away. Presently the sound of their 
 horses' hoofs ceased to disturb the silence 
 of the night. 
 
 " To horse !" Valentine said. 
 
 They leaped into their saddles and start- 
 ed again, not in the direction of the hacien- 
 da, but in that of the Paso. 
 
 "Loosen your bridles," the hunter said: 
 " more still, more still we are not mov- 
 ing." 
 
 Suddenly a loud neigh was borne on the 
 breeze to the ears of the fugitives. 
 
 "We are lost!" Valentine muttered. 
 " They have found our trail." 
 
 Red Cedar was too old a hand on the prai- 
 rie to be long thrown out : he soon perceiv- 
 ed that he was mistakqp, and was now turn- 
 ing back, quite certain this time of holding 
 the trail. Then began one of those fabulous 
 races which only the dwellers on the prairie 
 witness races which intoxicate and cause a 
 giddiness, and which no obstacle is able 
 to stop or check, for the object is success or 
 death. The bandits' half-wild horses, ap- 
 parently identifying themselves with the 
 ferocious passions of their riders, glided 
 through the night with the rapidity of the 
 phantom steed in the German ballad, bouud- 
 ed over precipices, and rnshed on with pro- 
 digious speed. 
 
 At times a horseman rolled with his steed 
 from the top of a rock, and fell into an abyss, 
 uttering a yell of distress ; but his comrades 
 passed over his body, borne along like a 
 whirlwind, and responding to this cry of 
 agony, the final appeal of a brother, by a 
 formidable howl of rage. This pursuit had 
 already lasted two hours, and the fugitives 
 had not lost an inch of ground : their horses, 
 white with foam, uttered hoarse cries of 
 fatigue and exhaustion as a dense smoke 
 came out of their nostrils. Dona Clara, 
 with her hair untied and floating in the 
 breeze, with sparkling eye and closely press- 
 ed lips, constantly urged her horse on with 
 voice and hand. 
 
 " All is over!" the hunter suddenly said. 
 " Save yourselves ! I will let myself be 
 killed here, so that you may go on for ten 
 minutes longer, and be saved. I will hold 
 out for that time, so go on." 
 
 "No," Don Pablo answered nobly; "we 
 will be all saved or perish together." 
 
 "Yes," the maiden remarked. 
 
the 
 
 Valentine shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " You are mad, he said. 
 
 All at once he started, for their pursuers 
 were rapidly approaching. 
 
 " Listen," he said. "Do you two let your- 
 selves be captured : they will not follow 
 me, as they owe me uo grudge. I swear to 
 you that if I remain at liberty I will deliver 
 you, even if they hide you in the bowels 
 of the earth." 
 
 Without replying Don Pablo dismounted, 
 and the Trail-hunter leaped on his horse. 
 
 " Hope for the best !" heshouted,hoarsely, 
 and disappeared. 
 
 Don Pablo, so soon as he was alone with 
 his sister, made her dismount, seated her at 
 the foot of a tree, and stood before her with 
 a pistol in either hand. He had not to wait 
 long, for almost immediately he was sur- 
 rounded by the bandits. 
 
 "Surrender!" Red Cedar shouted, in a 
 panting voice. 
 
 Donrablo smiled disdainfully. 
 
 " Here is my answer," he said. And with 
 two pistol-shots he laid, two bandits low ; 
 then he threw away his useless weapons, and 
 crossing his arms on his breast, said : 
 
 "Do what you please now: I am aven- 
 ged." 
 
 Red Cedar bounded with fury. 
 
 "Kill that dog!" he shouted. 
 
 Shaw rushed toward the young man, threw 
 his nervous arms around him, and whispered 
 in his ear: 
 
 "Do not resist, but fall as if dead." 
 
 Don Pablo mechanically followed his acl- 
 ;. 
 
 It is all over," said Shaw. "Poor fel- 
 , he did not cling to life." 
 
 He returned his knife to his belt, threw 
 Lie supposed corpse over his shoulders', and 
 ragged it into a ditch. At the sight of her 
 brother's body, whom she supposed to be 
 dead, Clara uttered a shriek of despair and 
 fainted. Red Cedar laid the maiden across 
 his saddle-bow, and the whole band, start- 
 ing at a gallop, was soon lost in the dark- 
 ness. Don Pablo then rose slowly, and 
 took a sorrowful glance around. 
 
 " My poor sister!" he murmured. 
 
 Then he perceived her horse near him. 
 
 " Valentine alone can save her," he said. 
 
 He mounted the horse, and proceeded 
 toward the town, asking himself this ques- 
 tion, which he found it impossible to an- 
 swer : 
 
 "But why did not that man kill me?" 
 And then he recalled what Shaw had once 
 promised him. 
 
 A few paces from the village he perceived 
 two men halting on the road, and conversing 
 with the greatest animation. They hurried- 
 ly advanced toward him, and the young man 
 uttered a cry of surprise on recognizing 
 m. They were Valentine and Curnm ill a. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE KEVOLT. 
 
 DON MIGUEL ZARATE had marched rapidly 
 on the Paso ; an hour after leaving Valentine 
 he saw flashing in the distance the lights 
 that shone in the village windows. [The 
 greatest calmness prevailed in the vicinity : 
 only at times could be heard the barking of 
 the dogs baying at the moon, or the savage 
 miawliug of the wild-cats hidden in the 
 shrubs. At about one hundred yards from 
 the village a man suddenly rose before the 
 sin all party. 
 
 " Who goes there ?" he shouted. 
 
 "Don Miguel Zanite." 
 
 At these words twenty men hidden in the 
 brushwood rose suddenly, and throwing 
 their rules on their shoulders, advanced to 
 meet the horsemen. They were the hunt- 
 ers commanded by Curumilla, who, by Val- 
 entine's orders, were awaiting the haciende- 
 ro's arrival to join him. 
 
 "Well," Don Miguel asked the Indian 
 chief, "is there any thing new?" 
 
 Cururnilla shook his head. 
 
 " Then we can advance ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What is the matter, chief? Have you 
 seen any thing alarming ?" 
 
 " No ; and yet I have a feeling of treach- 
 ery." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "lean not tell yoff. Apparently every 
 thing is as usual : still tffere is something 
 which is not so. Look you, it is scarce ten 
 o'clock: generally at that hour all the sa- 
 loons, are crammed with gamblers and 
 drinkers, the streets flocked with promena- 
 ders. This night there is nothing of the sort : 
 all is closed the town seems abandoned. 
 This tranquillity is factitious. I am alarmed, 
 for I hear the Kile; tec. Take care." 
 
 Don Miguel was involuntarily struck by 
 the chief's remarks. He had known Curu- 
 milla for a long time. He had often seen 
 him display In the most dangerous circum- 
 stances a coolness and contempt for death 
 be) r oud all praise : hence some importance 
 must be attached to the apprehensions and 
 anxiety of such a man. The haciendero or- 
 dered his party to halt, assembled his Mends, 
 and held a council. All were of opinion 
 that, before venturing to advance further, 
 they should send as scout a clever man to 
 traverse the town, and see for himself if 
 the fears of the Indian chief were well foun- 
 ded. 
 
 One of the hunters offered himself. The 
 conspirators concealed themsplves on either 
 side the road, and awaited, lying' in the 
 shrubs, the return of their messenger. He 
 was a half-breed, Simon Munez by name, to 
 whom the Indians had given the sobriquet 
 of " Dog-face," owing to his extraordinary 
 likeness to that animal. This name had 
 stuck to the hunter, who had been com- 
 pelled to accept it. He was short and clum- 
 
TUB THAIL-RUNTER. 
 
 ay, but endowed with maryelous strength ; 
 and we may say at once that he was an emis- 
 sary of Red Cedar, and had only joined the 
 hunters in order to betray them. 
 
 When he left the conspirators he proceeded 
 toward the village whistling. He had scarce 
 takea a dozen steps into the first street ere 
 a door opened, and a man appeared. This 
 man stepped forward and addressed the 
 faunter. 
 
 * ' You whistle very late, my friend." 
 
 "I whistle to wake those who are asleep," 
 the half-breed made answer. 
 
 " Come in," the man continued. 
 
 Dog-face went in, and the door closed upon 
 him. He remained in the house half an 
 hour, then went out, and hurried back along 
 the road he had traversed. 
 
 Red Cedar, who wished before all to 
 avenge himself on Don Miguel Zarate, had 
 discovered, through Fray Ambrosio, the 
 conspirators' new plan. Without loss of 
 time he had taken his measures in conse- 
 quence, and had managed so well that, al- 
 though the General, the Governor, and the 
 criminal judge were prisoners, Don Miguel 
 must succumb in the contest he was pre- 
 paring to provoke. Fray Ambrosio, to his 
 other qualities, joined that of being a lis- 
 tener at doors. In spite of the distrust 
 which Jjis patron was beginning to display to- 
 ward him on Valentine's recommendation, 
 he had surprised a conversation between 
 Don Miguel andjj-eneijal Ibancz. This con- 
 versation, immediately reported to Red Ce- 
 dar, who, according to his usual custom, 
 had appeared to attach no importance to it, 
 had been sufficient, however, to make the 
 squatter prepare his batteries and counter- 
 mine the conspiracy. 
 
 " Dog-face rejoined his companions after 
 an hour's absence. 
 
 "Well?" Don Miguel asked him. 
 
 "All is quiet," the half-breed answered; 
 "the inhabitants have retired to their 
 houses, and everybody is asleep." 
 
 " You noticed nothing of a suspici< 
 ture?" 
 
 " I went through the town from one end 
 to the other, and saw nothing." 
 
 " We can advance then "' 
 
 " In all security: it will only be a prome- 
 nade." 
 
 On this assurance the conspirators regain- 
 ed their courage, Curumilla was treated as 
 a visionary, and the order was given to ad- 
 vance. Still Dog-face's report, far from 
 dissipating the Indian chiefs doubts, had 
 produced the contrary effect, and considera- 
 bly augmented them. Saying nothing, he 
 placed himself by the hunter's side, with 
 the secret intention of watching him close- 
 ly- 
 
 The plan of the conspirators was very 
 simple. They would march directly on the 
 Cabildo (Town-hall,) seize it, and proclaim 
 a Provisional Government. Under present 
 circumstances nG*%ig appeared tc b$ easier. 
 
 suspicious na- 
 
 Don Miguel and his band entered the Paso, 
 and nothing occurred to arouse their suspi- 
 cions. It resembled that town in .the 
 "Arabian Nights," in which all the inhabi- 
 tants, struck by the wand of the wicked 
 enchanter, sleep an eternal sleep. The con- 
 spirators advanced into the town with their 
 rifle-barrels thrust forward, with eye and ear 
 on the watch, and ready to fire at the slight- 
 est alarm : but nothing stirred. As Guru- 
 railla had observed, the town was too quiet. 
 This tranquillity hid something extraordi- 
 nary, and must conceal the tempest. In 
 spite of himself Don Miguel felt a secret 
 apprehension which he could not master. 
 
 To some Don Miguel will perhaps appear 
 a poor conspirator, without foresight or any 
 great connection in his ideas. From our 
 point of view that is possible; but in a 
 country like Mexico, which counts its revo- 
 lutions by hundreds, and where pronuncia- 
 mentos take place, in most cases, without 
 sense or reason, because a colonel wishes to 
 become a General, or a lieutenant a captain, 
 things are not regarded so closely ; and the 
 hacieudero, on the contrary, had evidenced 
 tact, prudence, and talent in carrying out a 
 conspiracy which, during the several years 
 it had been preparing, had only come across 
 one traitor. And now it was too late to 
 turn back : the alarm had been given, and 
 the Government was on its guard. They 
 must go onward, even if they succumbed 
 in the struggle. 
 
 In the mean while the conspirators ad- 
 vanced. They had nearly reached the heart 
 of the town : they were at this moment in 
 a little, dirty, and narrow street, when sud- 
 denly a dazzling light illumined the dark- 
 ness ; torches flashed from all the windows ; 
 and Don Miguel saw that the two ends of 
 the street in which he was were guarded by 
 strong detachments of cavalry. 
 
 " Treachery !" the conspirators shouted in 
 terror. 
 
 Curumilla bounded on Dog-face, and 
 buried his knife between his shoulders. 
 The half-breed fell in a lump, quite dead and 
 not uttering a cry. Don Miguel judged the 
 position at the first glance :' he saw that he 
 and his party were lost. 
 
 " Let us die !" he said. 
 
 " We will !" the conspirators responded. 
 
 Curumilla with the butt of his rifle beat 
 in the door of the nearest house, and rush- 
 ed in, the conspirators following him. They 
 were soon intrenched on the roof. In Mex- 
 ico all the houses have flat roofs, formed like 
 terraces. Thanks to the Indian chief b idea, 
 the rebels found themselves in possession of 
 an improvised fortress, where they could 
 defend themselves for a long" time, and sell 
 their lives clearly, 
 
 The troops advanced from each end of the 
 street, while the roofs of all the houses 
 were occupied by soldiers. The battle was 
 about to begin between earth and heaven, 
 and promised to be terrible. At this 
 
THE SURRENDER. 
 
 
 moment General Guerrero, who commanded 
 the troops, bade them halt, and advanced 
 alone to the house on the top of which the 
 conspirators were intrenched. Don Miguel 
 beat up the guns of his comrades, who aim- 
 id at the officer. 
 
 Wait," he said to them ; and, addressing 
 the General, "What do you want? 1 ' he 
 shouted. 
 
 " To offer you propositions." 
 
 " Speak." 
 
 The General came a few paces nearer, so 
 that those he addressed could not miss one 
 of his words. 
 
 u I offer you life and liberty if you consent 
 to surrender your leader," he said. 
 
 "Never!" the conspirators shouted in 
 one voice. 
 
 "It is my place to answer," Don Miguel 
 said; and 'then turning to the General, 
 " What assurance do you give me that these 
 conditions will be honorably carried out ?" 
 My word of honor as a soldier," the Gen- 
 eral answered. 
 
 "Very good." Don Miguel went on; "I 
 
 cept. All the men who accompany me 
 will leave the town one after, the other." 
 
 No, we will not!" the conspirators 
 shouted, as they brandished their weapons ; 
 " we would sooner die." 
 
 " Silence!" the haciendero said in a loud 
 voice. "I alone have the right to speak 
 
 ere, for I am your chief. The life. of brave 
 
 en like you must not be needlessly sacri- 
 ficed. Go, I say : I order you I implore it 
 of you," he added with tremor in his voice. 
 " Perhaps you will soon take your revenge." 
 
 The conspirators hung their heads mourn- 
 fully. 
 
 " Well ?" the General asked. 
 
 " My friends accept. I will remain alone 
 .ere. If you break your word I will kill 
 myself." 
 
 "I repeat that you hold my word," the 
 
 eneral answered. 
 
 The conspirators came one after the other 
 o embrace Don Miguel, and then went 
 down into the street without being in 
 any way interfered with. Things happen 
 thus in this country, where conspiracies and 
 revolutions are the order of the day, as 
 it were. The. defeated are spared as far as 
 possible, for the simple reason that the 
 victors may find themselves to-morrow 
 fighting side by side with them for the same 
 cause. Curnmilla was the last to depart. 
 
 "All is not ended yet," he said to Don 
 Miguel. " Koutonepi will save you, father." 
 
 The haciendero shook his head sadly. 
 
 "Chief," he said in a deeply-moved voice, 
 "I leave my daughter to Valentine, Father 
 Seraphin, and yourself. Watch over her : 
 the poor child will soon have no father/' 
 
 Curumilla embraced Don Miguel silently 
 and retired : he had soon disappeared in the 
 crowd, the General having honorably kept 
 his word. Don Miguel threw down his 
 weapons and descended. 
 
 " I am your prisoner," he said. 
 
 General Guerrero bowed, and made him H 
 sign to mount the horse a soldier had brought 
 up. 
 
 "Where are we going;' 1 '' the haciendero 
 said. 
 
 "To Santa Fe," the General answered, 
 "where you will be tried with General Iba- 
 nez, who will doubtless soon be a prisoner 
 like yourself." 
 
 "Oh!" Don Miguel muttered thoughtful- 
 ly, " who betrayed us this time ?" 
 
 "It was still Red Cedar," the General an- 
 swered. 
 
 The haciendero let his head sink on his 
 chest, and remained silent. A quarter of 
 an hour later the prisoner left the Paso del 
 Norte, escorted by a regiment of dragoons. 
 When the last trooper had disappeared in 
 the windings of the road, three men left the 
 shrubs that concealed them, and stood like 
 three phantoms in the midst of the deso- 
 late plain. 
 
 " Oh heavens !" Don Pablo cried in a 
 heart-rending voice, " my father, my sister 
 who will restore them to me'?" 
 
 " I !" Valentine said in a grave voice, as 
 he laid his hand on his shoulder. " Am I 
 not the TRAIL-HUNTER ?" 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE THREE PLOTTERS. 
 
 ABOUT a month after the events we have 
 described, two horsemen, well mounted, 
 and carefully enwrapped in their cloaks, en- 
 tered at a smart trot the town of Santa F6 
 between three and four o'clock in the after- 
 noon. 
 
 Santa F6", the capital of New Mexico, is a 
 pretty town, built in the midst of a laugh- 
 ing and fertile plain. One of its sides oc- 
 cupies the angle formed by a small stream : 
 it is surrounded by the adobe walls of the 
 houses by which it is bordered. The entrance 
 of each street is closed bj" stakes in the 
 form of palisades ; and like the majority 
 of towns in Spanish America, the houses, 
 built only one-story high in consequence of 
 the earthquakes, are covered with terrace? 
 of well-beaten earth, which are a sufficient 
 protection in this glorious climate, where 
 the sky is constantly pure. 
 
 In the time of the Castilian rule, Santa Fe 
 enjoyed a certain importance, owing to its 
 strategic position, which allowed an easy de- 
 fense against the incursions of the Indians ; 
 but since the emancipation of Mexico this 
 city, like all the other centers of population 
 in this unhappy country, has seen its splen- 
 dor vanish forever. In a word, this city, 
 which h'fty years back contained more than 
 ten thousand inhabitants, has now scarcely 
 three thousand, eaten up by fevers and the 
 utmost wretchedness. 
 
 During the last few weeks Santa F^ had 
 

 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 appeared to emerge, as if by mag^c, from the 
 lethargy into which it is ordinarily plunged ; 
 n certain degree of animation prevailed in its 
 usually deserted streets. The fact was, an 
 event of immense importance had recently 
 taken place in this town. The two leaders 
 of the conspiracy lately attempted had been 
 transferred to safe-keeping at Santa Fu. 
 
 The Mexicans, ordinarily so slow when jus- 
 tice has to be dealt, are the most expeditious 
 people in the world when a conspiracy has 
 to be punished.. Don Miguel and General 
 Ibanez had not pined long in prison. A 
 court-martial, hurriedly convened, had as- 
 sembled, under the presidency of the Gov- 
 ernor, and the two conspirators were unani- 
 mously condemned to be shot. 
 
 The haciendero, through his name and 
 position, and especially on account of his 
 fortune, had numerous partisans in the prov- 
 ince : hence the announcement of the ver- 
 dict had caused a profound stupor, which 
 almost immediately changed into anger, 
 among the rich land-owners and the Indians 
 of New Mexico. A dull agitation prevailed 
 throughout the country ; and the Governor, 
 who felt too weak to hold head against the 
 storm that threatened him, and regretted 
 that he had carried matters so far, was tem- 
 porizing, and trying to evade the peril of 
 his position until a regiment of dragoons he 
 had asked of the Government arrived, and 
 gave strength to the law. The condemned 
 men, whom the Governor had not yet dared 
 to execute, were still provisionally detained 
 m the prison. 
 
 The two men of whom we have spoken 
 rode without stopping through the streets 
 of the town, deserted at this hour, when 
 everybody is at home enjoying his siesta, 
 and proceeded toward an unpretending ran- 
 cho, built on the banks of the stream at the 
 opposite end of the town from that by 
 which they entered. 
 
 "Well," one of the horsemen said, ad- 
 Iressing his comrade, "was I not right? 
 Y"ou see every one is asleep : there is nobody 
 to watch us. We have arrived at a capital 
 moment." 
 
 "Bah!" the other answered in a rough 
 voice, "do you believe that? In towns 
 there is always somebody watching to see 
 what docs not concern him, and report it 
 after his fashion." 
 
 " That is possible," the first said, shrug- 
 ging his shoulders disdainfully. "I care 
 about it as little as I do for a string-halt 
 horse." 
 
 " And I too," the other said sharply. 
 " Do you imagine that I care more than you 
 do for the gossips ? But stay ; I fancy we 
 have reached the rancho of Andres Ga'rote. 
 This must be the filthy tenement, unless 1 
 am mistaken." 
 
 " It is the house. I only hope the scamp 
 has not forgotten the meeting I gave him. 
 Wait a minute, senor padre ; I will give the 
 greed-oa signal," 
 
 " It ia not worth while, Red Cedar. You 
 know that I am always at your excellency's 
 orders when you may please to give them," 
 a mocking voice said from inside the rancho, 
 the door of which immediately opened to 
 give admission to the new-comers, and al- 
 lowed a glimpse of the tall figure of Andres 
 Garote himself. 
 
 The travelers dismounted and entered 
 the rancho. 
 
 Andres took the bridle of the horses and 
 led them to the corral, where he unsaddled 
 them and gave each a truss of alfalfa. 
 
 The travelers, fatigued by a long journey, 
 sat down on butaccas arranged against the 
 wall, and awaited the host's return, while 
 wiping their dark foreheads and twisting a 
 maize cigarette between their fingers. The 
 room in which they were had nothing ex- 
 tremely attractive about it. It was a large 
 chamber with two windows, protected by 
 iron bars, the greasy panes allowing but a 
 doubtful light to pass. The naked and smo- 
 ky walls were covered with clumsily-painted 
 pictures, representing various holy objects. 
 The furniture only consisted of three 01 
 four halting-tables, the same number of 
 benches, and a few butaccas, the holey and 
 harsh leather of which evinced lengthened 
 use. As for the floor it was of beaten earth, 
 but rendered uneven by the mud incessantly 
 brought in upon the feet of visitors. A door 
 carefully closed led to an inner room, in 
 which the ranchero slept. Another door 
 was opposite to it, and through this Andres 
 speedily entered after giving the horses theii 
 provender. 
 
 " I did not expect you yet," he said, as he 
 entered; "but you are welcome. Is there 
 any thing new?" 
 
 " My faith, I know nothing but the affair 
 that brings us. It is rather serious, I fancy, 
 and prevents us attending to any thing else," 
 Red Cedar remarked. 
 
 " Caspita I what vivacity, compadre !" An- 
 dres exclaimed. "But, before talking, I 
 hope you will take some refreshment at any 
 rate. There is nothing like a cup of mezcal 
 to clear the brain." 
 
 " Not to forget," Fray Ambrosio said, 
 " that it is infernally hot, and my tongue is 
 glued to my palate, as I have swallowed so 
 much dust." 
 
 Andres went to look for a bottle among 
 several others arranged on a sort of a bar, 
 and placed it before the travelers. 
 
 The liquor, liberally poured out, was 
 swallowed at a draught by the three men, 
 who put their glasses on the table with a 
 "hum " of satisfaction, and that clicking of 
 the tongue peculiar to topers when they are 
 swallowing any thing that tickles their 
 throat. 
 
 "And now suppose we talk seriously," 
 Red Cedar said. 
 
 " At your orders," Andres replied. " Still, 
 if you prefer a hand at monte, you know 
 that I have cards at your service." 
 
TEHEE PLOTTERS. 
 
 Presently, Seiior Andres, presently, 
 ivery thing will have its turn. Let us 
 st settle our little business," Fray Ain- 
 sio judieiously observed. 
 Andres Garote bowed his head in resigna- 
 'on, while thrusting back into his pocket 
 le pack of cards he had already half drawn 
 .it. The three men made themselves as 
 )mfortable as they could, and Red Cedar, 
 ;r casting a suspicious glance around him, 
 ', length took the word. 
 "You know," he said, "how, when we 
 lought we had nothing to do but proceed 
 raight to Apacheria, the sudden desertion 
 nearly all our men checked us. The po- 
 uon was most critical for us. and the ab- 
 iction of Dona Clara compelled us to take 
 ic utmost precautions." 
 
 That is true," Andres Garote observed, 
 ith an air of conviction. 
 "Although certain influential persons 
 rotect us under the rose," Red Cedar con- 
 tinued, "we are compelled to keep in the 
 shade as far as we can. I therefore sought 
 to remedy the gravest points in the busi- 
 ness. In the first place, the girl was hid- 
 den in an inaccessible retreat, and then I 
 began looking for comrades to take the 
 place of those who abandoned us so sud- 
 denly." 
 
 "Well?" the two men interrupted him, 
 sharply. 
 
 "At this moment," Red Cedar calmly 
 continued, " when the placers of California 
 call away all the men belonging to the pro- 
 fession, it was certainly no easy task to col- 
 lect one hundred men of the sort we want, 
 the more so as we shall have to fight the In- 
 dies Bravos in our expedition. I did not 
 care to enlist novices, who, at sight of the 
 first Apache or Comanche sarages, would 
 bolt in terror, and leave us in the lurch ou 
 the prairies. What I wanted were resolute 
 men, whom no fatigue would disgust, and 
 who, once attached to our enterprise, would 
 follow it out to the end. I have, therefore, 
 during the past month, been running about 
 to all the frontier presidios ; and the devil 
 has come to my help tolerably well, for the 
 evil is now repaired, and the band com- 
 plete." 
 
 " I hope, Red Cedar," Fray Ambrosjo 
 asked, " that you have not spoken about the 
 placer to your men ?" 
 
 " Do you take me for a fool? No," the 
 squatter answered, sharply, "no, no. A 
 hundred thousand reasons urge us to be pru- 
 dent, and keep the expedition secret. An 
 indiscretion would ruin us now, when the 
 whole world only dreams of mines and pla- 
 cers, and Europe sends us a mob of lean and 
 starving vagabonds greedy to grow fat at 
 our expense." 
 
 "Famously reasoned," said Andres. 
 
 "No, no, trust to me. I have assembled 
 
 the finest collection of men ever brought 
 
 together for an expedition, all food for the 
 
 gallows, ruined by monte, who do not care 
 
 for hard blows, and on whom I can fully 
 count, while being very careful not to drop 
 a word that can enlighten them as to the 
 spot whither we propose leading them ; for, 
 in that case, I know as well as you do that 
 they would abandon us without the slight- 
 est scruples, or, as is even more probable, 
 assassinate us to jjain possession of the im- 
 mense treasures we covet." 
 
 "Nothing can be more just," Fray Am- 
 brosio answered. " I am quite of your 
 opinion, Ked Cedar. Now, what have you 
 resolved on ?" 
 
 "We have not an instant to lose," the 
 squatter continued. " This very evening, 
 or to-morrow at the latest, we must set 
 out. Who knows whether we have not al- 
 ready delayed our start too long ? Perhaps 
 one of those European vagabonds may have 
 discovered our placer, for those scoundrels 
 have a peculiar scent for gold." 
 
 Fray Ambrosio cast a suspicious glance at 
 his partner. 
 
 "Hum!" he muttered, "that would be 
 very unlucky, for hitherto the business has 
 been well managed." 
 
 " For that reason," Red Cedar hastened to 
 add, "I only suggest a doubt nothing 
 more." 
 
 "Come, Red Cedar," the monk said, 
 "you have yourself narrated all the em- 
 barrassments of our position, and the count- 
 less difficulties we shall have to surmount 
 before reaching our object. Why, then, 
 complicate the gravity of our situation still 
 more, and create fresh enemies needlessly?" 
 
 "I do not understand you. Be good 
 enough to explain yourself more clearly." 
 
 "1 allude to the young girl you carried 
 off." 
 
 "Ah, ah!" Red Cedar said, with a grin, 
 "is that where the shoe pinches you, com- 
 rade? I am vexed at it ; but I will not an- 
 swer your question. If I carried off that 
 woman, it was because I had pressing rea- 
 sons to do so. These reasons still exist : 
 that is all I can tell you. All the better if 
 these explanations are sufficient for you; if 
 not, you must put up with them, for you 
 will get no others." 
 
 " Still it appears to me that, regarding the 
 terms on which we stand to each other " 
 
 "What can there be in common between 
 the abduction of Dona Clara and the dis- 
 covery of a placer in the heart of Apache- 
 ria? Come, you are mad, Fray Ambrosio: 
 the mczcal is getting to your head." 
 
 "Still" the monk insisted. 
 
 "Enough of that !" Red Cedar shouted 
 as he roughly smote the table with his 
 clenched fist. "I will not hear another 
 word on the subject." 
 
 At this moment two smart blows were 
 heard on the carefully-bolted door. 
 
 The three men started, and Red Cedar 
 broke off. 
 
 " Shall I open ?" Andres asked. 
 
 "Yes," Fray Ambrosio answered:-' hei 
 
THE TRAIL-KUNTER. 
 
 tation or refusal might give an alarm. We 
 must foresee every thing." 
 
 Red Cedar consented with a toss of his 
 head, and the ranchero went with an ill 
 graee toward the door, which was being 
 struck as if about to be beaten in. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE CROSS CUT. 
 
 So soon as the door was opened two men 
 appeared on the threshold. The first was 
 Curumilla ; the other, wrapped up in a large 
 cloak, and with his broad-brimmed hat 
 drawn over his eyes, entered the room, mak- 
 ing the Indian chief a sign to follow him. 
 He was evidently a Mexican. 
 
 " What shall I serve to your excellencies ?" 
 asked Andres. 
 
 "A bottle of mezcal," the stranger said. 
 
 The new-comers seated themselves at a 
 table at the end of the room, at a spot 
 which the light reached in such a weakened 
 state that it was almost dark. When they 
 were served, each poured out a glass of 
 liquor, which he drank ; and leaning his 
 head on his hands, the Mexican appeared 
 plunged in deep thought, not occupying 
 himself the least in the world about the per- 
 sons near him. Curumilla crossed his arms 
 on his chest, half closed his eyes, and re- 
 mained motionless. 
 
 Still the arrival of these two men, especial- 
 ly the presence of the stranger, had sudden- 
 ly frozen the eloquence of our three friends. 
 Gloomy and silent, they instinctively felt 
 that the new-comers were enemies, and 
 anxiously waited for what .was about to oc- 
 cur. At length Red Cedar, doubtless more 
 impatient than his comrades, and wishful to 
 know at once what he had to expect, rose, 
 filled his glass, and turned toward the stran- 
 gers. 
 
 " Strangers," he said, imitating that ex- 
 quisite politeness which the Mexicans pos- 
 sess in the highest degree, " I have the 
 honor of drinking to your health." 
 
 At this invitation Curumilla remained in- 
 sensible as a granite statue : his companion 
 slowly raised his head, fixed his eye for a 
 moment on the speaker, and answered in a 
 loud and tirm voice : 
 
 " It is needless, for I shall not drink yours. 
 What I say to you," he added, laying a stress 
 on the words, "} r our friends can also take 
 for themselves if they think proper." 
 
 Fray Ambrosio rose violently. 
 
 " What do you say ?" he exclaimed in a 
 threatening voice. " Do you mean to insult 
 me?" 
 
 "There are people whom a man can not 
 mean to insult," the stranger continued in 
 a cutting voice. " Remember this, senor 
 padra I do not wish to have any dealings 
 with you." 
 
 4 ' Why so y 
 
 " Because I do not please that ia all. 
 Now, gentlemen, do not trouble yourselves 
 about me, I beg, but continue your conver- 
 sation : it was most interesting when I ai'- 
 rived. You were speaking, I believe, about 
 an expedition you are preparing : there was 
 a question too, I fancy, when I entered, 
 about a girl your worthy friend, or partner 
 I do not know which he is carried off 
 with your assistance. Do not let me disturb 
 you. * I should, on the contrary, be delight- 
 ed to learn what you intend doing with that 
 unhappy young creature." 
 
 No words could render the feelipg of 
 stupor and terror which seized on the three- 
 partners at this crushing revelation of 
 their plans. When they fancied they had 
 completely concealed them by their cunning 
 and skill, to see them thus suddenly unvail- 
 ed in all their extent by a man they did not 
 know, b.ut who knew them, and in con- 
 sequence was their enemy this terrified 
 them to such a degree that for a moment 
 they fancied they had to do with the spirit 
 of evil. The two Mexicans crossed them- 
 selves simultaneously, while the squatter 
 uttered a hoarse exclamation of rage. 
 
 But Red Cedar and Fray Ambrosio were 
 men too hardened in iniquity for any event, 
 however grave in its nature, to crush them 
 for long. The first moment past, they re- 
 covered themselves, and amazement gave 
 way to fury. The monk drew from his 
 boot a knife, and posted himself before the 
 door to prevent egress ; while Red Cedar, 
 with frowning brow and a dagger in his 
 hand, advanced resolutely toward the table, 
 behind which their bold adversary, standing 
 with folded arms, seemed to defy them by 
 his ironical smile. 
 
 " Whoever you may be," Red Cedar said, 
 stopping two paces from his opponent, 
 " chance has made you master of a secret 
 that kills, and you shall die." 
 
 " Do you really believe that I owe a 
 knowledge of your secrets to chance?" the 
 other said with a mocking accent. 
 
 "Defend yourself, Red Cedar howled 
 furiously, " if you do not wish. me to assas- 
 sinate you ; for, I shall not hesitate, I warn 
 you." 
 
 "I know it," the stranger replied quietly. 
 " I shall not be the first person to whom 
 that has happened : the Sierra Madre have 
 often heard the agonizing cries of your vic- 
 tims, when Indians were wanting to nil up 
 your number of scalps." 
 
 At this allusion to Iris frightful trade the 
 squatter felt a livid pallor cover his face, a 
 tremor agitated all his limbs, and he yell- 
 ed in a choking voice : 
 
 "You lie! 1 am a hunter." 
 
 "Of scalps," the stranger immediately 
 retorted, "unless you have given up that 
 lucrative and honorable profession since 
 your last expedition to the village of the 
 Coras." 
 
 "Oh!" the squatter shouted with an in- 
 
THE PRIEST MARKED. 
 
 describable burst of fury, "he is a coward 
 who hides his face while uttering such 
 words." 
 
 The stranger shrugged his shoulders con- 
 temptuously, and let the folds of his mantle 
 fall sharply. 
 
 " Do you not recognize me, Red Cedar, 
 since your conscience has not yet whispered 
 my name to you?" 
 
 " Oh !" the three men exclaimed in hor- 
 ror, and instinctively recoiling, " Don Pablo 
 de karate!" 
 
 "Yes," the young man continued, "Don 
 Pablo who has come, Red Cedar, to ask of 
 you an account of his sister, whom you 
 carried off." 
 
 Red Cedar was in a state of extraordinary 
 agitation : with eyes dilated by terror, and 
 contracted features, he felt the cold perspir- 
 ation beading on his temples at this unex- 
 pected apparition. 
 
 " Ah !" he said in a hollow voice, " do the 
 dead, then, leave the tomb ?" 
 
 " Yes," the young man shouted loudly, 
 
 they leave their tomb to tear your victims 
 
 om you. Red Cedar, restore me my sister !" 
 
 The squatter leaped like a hyena on the 
 .ng man, brandishing his knife. 
 Dog !" he yelled, " I will kill you a sec- 
 ond time." 
 
 But his wrist was suddenly seized by a 
 hand of iron, and the bandit tottered back 
 to the walls of the raucho, against which he 
 was forced to lean, lest he should roll on 
 the ground. Curumilla, who had hitherto 
 remained an impassive witness of the scene 
 that took place before him, thought the mo- 
 ment for interference had arrived, and had 
 sharply hurled him back. The squatter, with 
 blood-shot eyes, and lips clenched by rage, 
 looked around him with glaring worthy or a 
 wild beast. Fray Ambrosio and the ranch- 
 ero, held in check by the Indian chief, did 
 not dare to interfere. Don Pablo walked 
 with a slow and measured step toward the 
 bandit. When he was ten paces from him 
 he stopped, and looked fixedly at him. 
 
 "Red Cedar," he repeated in a calm voice, 
 *' give me back my sister." 
 
 " Never !" the squatter answered in a voice 
 choked by rage. 
 
 In the mean while the monk and Andres 
 had treacherously approached the young- 
 man, watching for the propitious moment to 
 fall on him. The five men assembled in 
 this room offered a strange and sinister scene 
 by the uncertain light that filtered through 
 the windows, as each stood with his baud 
 on his weapon, ready to kill or be killed, 
 and only waiting the opportunity to rush on 
 his enemy. There was a moment of su- 
 preme silence. Assuredly these men were 
 brave. In many circumstances they had 
 seen death under every aspect ; and yet 
 their hearts beat as if to burst their breasts, 
 for they knew that the combat about to 
 commence between them was without truce 
 or mercy. At length Don Pablo spoke again. 
 
 "Take care, Red Cedar," he said. "I 
 have come to meet you alone and honorably. 
 1 have asked you for my sister several times,, 
 and you have not answered ; so take care." 
 
 " i" will sell your sister to the Apaches !"' 
 the squatter howled. " As for you, accursed 
 one, you shall not leave this room alive." 
 
 " The sconndrel is mad !" the young man 
 said contemptuously. 
 
 He fell back a pace, and then stopped. 
 
 " Listen," he continued. " I will now re- 
 tire, but we shall meet again; and woe to 
 youthen, for I shall be as pitiless to you 
 as you have been to me. Farewell !" 
 
 "Oh! you shall not go in that way, my 
 master," replied the squatter, who had re- 
 gained all his boldness and impudence. 
 ' ' Did I not tell you I would kill you '?' ' 
 
 The young man fixed upon him a glance of 
 uudefinable expression, and crossed his arms 
 boldly on his chest. 
 
 "Try it," he said, in a voice rendered 
 harsh by the fury boiling in his heart. 
 
 Red Cedar uttered a yell of rage, and 
 bounded on Don Pablo. The latter calmly 
 awaited the attack; but, so soon as the 
 squatter was within reach, he suddenly took 
 off his mantle, and threw it over his enemy'? 
 head, who, blinded by the folds of the thick 
 garment, rolled about on the ground, un- 
 able to free himself from the accursed cloth 
 that held him like a net. With one bound 
 the young man was over the table, and 
 troubling himself no further about Red Ce- 
 dar, proceeded toward the door. 
 
 At this moment Fray Ambrosio rushed 
 upon him, trying to bury his knife in his 
 chest. Feeling not the slightest alarm, Don 
 Pablo seized his assailant's wrist, and with a 
 strength he was far from anticipating, twist- 
 ed his arm so violently that his fingers open- 
 ed, and he let the knife fall with a yell of 
 pain. Don Pablo picked it up, and seized 
 the monk by the throat. 
 
 "Listen, villain !" he said to him. "I 
 am master of your life. You betrayed my 
 father, who took pity on you, and received 
 you into his house. You dishonor the gowii 
 you wear by your connection with criminals, 
 whose ill deeds you share in. I could kill 
 you, and perhaps ought to do so; but it 
 would be robbing the executioner to whom 
 you belong, and cheating the garrote which 
 awaits you. This gown, of which you are 
 unworthy, saves your life ; but I will mark 
 you. so that you shall never forget me." 
 
 And placing the point of the knife on the 
 monk's face, he made two gashes in the 
 shape of a cross. 
 
 " We shall meet again!" he added, in a 
 thundering voice, as he threw the knife 
 away in disgust. 
 
 Andres Garote hud not dared to make a 
 move : terror nailed him motionless to the 
 ground beneath the implacable eye of the 
 Indian warrior. Don Pablo and Curumilla 
 then rushed from the room and disappeared, 
 and ere long the hoofs of two horses depart* 
 
THE TRAIL-HVNTEM. 
 
 ing at full speed from the town could be 
 heard clattering over the pavement. 
 
 By the aid of the ranchero Red Cedar 
 prtsently succeeded in freeing himself from 
 the folds of the cloak that embarrassed him. 
 When the three accomplices found them- 
 selvea alone again an expression of impotent 
 rage and deadly hatred distorted their faces. 
 
 "Oh!" the squatter muttered, grinding 
 his teeth, and raising his fist to heaven, u 1 
 will bo revenged." 
 
 "And I too," said Fray Ambrosio in a 
 holl sw voice, as he wiped away the blood 
 thar. stained his face. 
 
 "Sim! I do not care," Andres Garote 
 said 10 himself aside. "That family of the 
 Zaratw* is a fine one ; but, it must be con- 
 fessed that Don Pablo is a rough fellow." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE HUNTERS. 
 
 AT about two leagues from Santa F6, in a 
 clearing situated on the banks of the stream 
 which borders that town, and on the eve- 
 ning of the same day, a man was seated be- 
 fore a large tire, which he carefully kept up, 
 while actively engaged in making prepara- 
 tions for supper. A frugal meal, at any rate, 
 this supper ! It was composed of a buffalo- 
 hump, a few potatoes, and maize tortillas 
 baked on the ashes, the whole washed 
 down with pulque. 
 
 The night was gloomy. Heavy black 
 clouds coursed athwart the sky, at times 
 intercepting the sickly rays of the moon, 
 which only shed an uncertain light over 
 the landscape, which was itself buried in 
 one of those dense mists that, in equatorial 
 countries, exhale from the ground after a 
 hot day. The wind blew violently through 
 the trees, whose branches came in contact, 
 with plaintive moans; and in the depths 
 of the woods the miawling of the wild- 
 cats was mingled with the snarl of the co- 
 yotes and the howls of the pumas and jag- 
 uars. All at once the sound of galloping 
 horses could be heard in the forest, and two 
 riders burst into the clearing. On seeing 
 them the hunter uttered an exclamation of 
 joy, and hurried to meet them. They were 
 Don Pablo and Curumilla. 
 
 "Heaven be praised!" lie said. "Here 
 you are at last. I was beginning to grow 
 alarmed at your long absence." 
 
 " You see that nothing has happened to 
 7ne," the young man answered, affectionate- 
 ly pressing the hunter's hands. 
 
 Don Pablo had dismounted, and hobbled 
 his own horse and Curumilla's near Valen- 
 tine's, while the Indian chief busied himself 
 in preparing the supper. 
 
 "Corne, come," the hunter said, gayly, 
 " to table. You must be hungry, and 1 am 
 dying of hunger. You can tell me all that 
 has occurred while we are eating." 
 
 The three men went to tho table ; that ! 
 they seated themselves on the grass in 
 front of the fire, and vigorously assailed 
 their meager repast. 
 
 " Now," Valentine asked presently, "what 
 have you done ? I fancy you remained 
 much longer than was necessary in that ac- 
 cursed town." 
 
 " We did, my friend. Certain reasons 
 forced me to remain longer than I had first 
 intended." 
 
 "Proceed in regular order, if you have DO 
 objection. I fancy that is the only way of 
 understanding each other." 
 
 "Act as you please, my friend." 
 
 "Very good: the chief and I will light 
 our pipes while you make your cigarette. 
 We will sit with our backs to the fire, so as 
 to watch the neighborhood, and in that way 
 can converse without apprehension. What 
 do you say, Pablo ?" 
 
 " You are always right, my friend. Your 
 inexhaustible gayety, your honest careless- 
 ness, restore me all my courage, and imfcf 1 
 me quite a different man." 
 
 " Hum !" Valentine said, "I am glad to 
 hear you speak so. The position is serious, 
 it is true ; but it is far from being desperate. 
 The chief and I have many times been in 
 situations where our lives only depended on 
 a thread ; and yet we always emerged from 
 them honorably did we not, chief ?" 
 
 "Yes," the Indian answered, laconically, 
 drawing in a mouthful of smoke, which he 
 sent forth again from mouth and nostrils. 
 
 " But that is not the question of the mo- 
 ment. I have sworn to save your father and 
 sister, Pablo, and will do so, or my carcass 
 shall be food for the wild beasts of the prai- 
 rie ; so leave me to act. Have you seen 
 Father Seraphin ?" 
 
 "Yes, I have. Our poor friend is still 
 very weak and pale, and his wound is scarce 
 healed. Still, paying no heed to his suf- 
 ferings, and deriving strength from his un- 
 bounded devotion to humanity, he has done 
 all we agreed on. For the last week he has 
 only left my father to hasten to his judges. 
 He has seen the General, the Governor, the 
 Bishop everybody, in short and has neg- 
 lected nothing. Unfortunately all his ex- 
 ertions have hitherto been fruitless." 
 
 " Patience !" the hunter said, with a smile 
 of singular meaning. 
 
 " Father Seraphin believes for certain 
 that my father will be shot within two days. 
 The Governor wishes to have done with it 
 that is the expression he employed : and 
 Father Seraphin told mo that we have not a 
 moment to lose." 
 
 "Two days arc a long time, my friend: 
 before they have elapsed many things may 
 have occurred." 
 
 "That is true; but my father's life if, at 
 stake, and I feel timid." 
 
 " Good, Don Pablo ; I like to hear you 
 speak so. But reassure yourself : all i go- 
 ing on well, I repeat." 
 
BOLD, BUI EASH. 
 
 1, my friend, I believe It would bo 
 wise to take certain precautions. Remem- 
 ber it is a question of life or death, and we 
 must make haste. How many times, under 
 similar circumstances, have the best-arranged 
 plans failed ! Do you think that your meas- 
 ures are well taken ? Do you not fear lest 
 an unhappy accident may derange all your 
 plans at the decisive moment?" 
 
 " We are playing at this moment a deep 
 game, my friend," Valentine answered. 
 " We have chance on our side ; that is to 
 say, the greatest power that exists, and 
 which governs the world." 
 
 The young man lowered his head, as if but 
 slightly convinced. The hunter regarded 
 him for a moment with a mixture of in- 
 terest and tender pity, and then continued 
 in a soothing voice : 
 
 "Listen, Don Pablo de Zarate," he Raid. 
 "I have said that I will save your father, 
 and mean to do so. Still I wish him to 
 leave the prison in which he now is, like a 
 man of his character ought to leave it, in 
 open day, greeted by the applause of the 
 crowd, and not by escaping furtively during 
 the night, like a Vile criminal. Hang it all! 
 do you think it would have been difficult 
 for me to enter the town, and effect your 
 father's escape by filing the bars or bribing 
 the jailer? I would not do it. Don Miguel 
 would not have accepted that cowardly "and 
 shameful flight. Your father shall le,ave his 
 prison, but begged to do so by the Gover- 
 nor himself, and all the authorities of Santa 
 F6. So regain your courage, and no longer 
 doubt a man whose friendship and experi- 
 ence should, on the contrary, restore your 
 confidence." 
 
 The young man had listened to these words 
 with ever increasing interest. When Valen- 
 tine ceased speaking he seized his hand. 
 
 "Pardon me, my friend," he answered 
 him. "I know how devoted you are to 
 my family ; but I suffer, and grief renders 
 me unjust. Forgive me." 
 
 " Child, let us forget it all. Was the town 
 quiet to-day ?" 
 
 " I can not tell you, for I was so absorbed 
 in thought that I saw nothing going on 
 around me. Still I fancy there was a certain 
 agitation, which was not natural, on the 
 Plaza Mayor, near the Governor's palace." 
 
 Valentine indulged once again in that 
 strange smile that had already played round 
 the corners of his delicate lips. 
 
 " Good !" he said. " And did you, as I ad- 
 vised, try to gain any information about Red 
 Cedar?" 
 
 " Yes," he answered with a start of joy, 
 "I did; and I have positive news." 
 
 "Ah, ah! How so?" 
 
 "I will tell you." 
 
 And Don Pablo described the scene that 
 had taken place in the rancho. The hunter 
 .listened to it with the utmost attention, 
 and when it was finished he tossed his head 
 .with an air of dissatisfaction. 
 
 " All young people are so," he muttered : 
 "they always allow thir passions to carry 
 them beyond the bounds of reason. You 
 were wrong, extremely wrong, Don 
 Pablo," he then added. "Red Cedar be- 
 lieved you dead, and that might have been 
 of great use to us presently. You do not 
 know the immense power that demon has 
 at his disposal: all the bandits on the fron- 
 tier are devoted to him. Your outbreak 
 will be most injurious to your sister's safety." 
 
 " Still, my friend " 
 
 " You acted like a madman in arousing 
 the slumbering fury of a tiger. Red Cedar 
 will persist in destroying you. I have known 
 the wretch for a long time. But that is not 
 the worst you have done." 
 
 " What is it, then ?" 
 
 " Why, madman as you are, instead of 
 keeping dark, watching your enemies with- 
 out saying a word in short, seeing through 
 their "game by an unpardonable act of 
 bravado you have unmasked all your bat- 
 teries." 
 
 "I do not understand you, my friend." 
 
 " Fray Ambrosio is a villain of a different 
 stamp from Red Cedar, it is true; but I con- 
 sider him even a greater scoundrel than the 
 scalp-hunter. At any rate, the latter is 
 purely a rogue, and you know what to ex- 
 pect from him: all about him bears the 
 stamp of his hideous soul. Had you stabbed 
 that wild beast, who perspires blood by 
 every pore, and dreams of naught but mur- 
 der, I might possibly have pardoned you ; 
 but you have completely failed, not only in 
 prudence, but in good sense, by acting as 
 you have done with Fray Ambrosio. That 
 man is a hypocrite. He owes all to your 
 family, and is furious at seeing his treachery 
 discovered. Take care, Don Pablo. You 
 have made at one blow two implacable en- 
 emies : the more terrible now because they 
 have nothing to guard against." 
 
 " It is true," the young man said ; "1 act- 
 ed like a fool. But what would you? At 
 the sight of those two men, when I heard 
 from their very lips the crimes they had 
 committed, and those they still meditate 
 against us, I was no longer master of my- 
 self. I entered -the rancho, and you know 
 the rest." 
 
 " Yes, yes, the cuchillada was a fine one. 
 Certainly the bandit deserved it ; but I fear 
 lest the cross you so smartly drew on hia 
 face will cost you dearly some day." 
 
 " Well, let us leave it in the hands of 
 heaven. You know the proverb, ' It is bet- 
 ter to forget what can not be remedied.' 
 Provided my father escape the fate that me- 
 naces him, I shall be happy. I shall take 
 my precautions to defend myself." 
 
 ' Did you learn nothing further?" 
 
 "Yes: Red Cedar's gambusinos are en- 
 camped a short distance from us. I know 
 that their chief intends starting to-morrow 
 at the latest." 
 
 " Oh, oh ! already ? We must make haste 
 
66 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 and prepare our ambuscade, ii we wish to 
 discover the road they mean to follow." 
 "When shall we start?" 
 "At once." 
 
 The three men made their preparations ; 
 the horses were saddled, the small skins the 
 horseman always carries at his saddle-bow 
 in these dry countries were filled with water, 
 and live minutes later the hunters mounted. 
 At the moment they were leaving the clear- 
 ing a rustling of leaves was heard, the 
 brunches parted, and an Indian appeared. 
 It was Unicorn, the great sachem of the Co- 
 inanches. On seeing him the three men dis- 
 mounted and waited. Valentine advanced 
 alone to meet the Indian. 
 
 "My brother is welcome," he said. 
 "What does he want of me ?" 
 
 "To see the face of a friend," the chief 
 answered, in a gentle voice. 
 
 The two men then bowed after the fashion 
 of the prairie. After this ceremony Valen- 
 tine went on : 
 
 "My father must approach the fire, and 
 smoke from the calumet of his white 
 friends." 
 
 "I will do so," Unicorn answered. 
 And drawing near the fire, he crouched 
 down in Indian fashion, took his pipe from 
 his belt, and smoked in silence. The hunt- 
 ers, seeing the turn this unexpected inter- 
 view was taking, had fastened up their horses, 
 and seated themselves again round the fire. 
 A few minutes passed thus, no one speaking, 
 each waiting till the Indian chief should ex- 
 plain the motive of his coming. At length 
 Unicorn shook the ashes from" his calumet, 
 returned it to his belt, and addressed Valen- 
 tine. 
 
 " Is my brother setting out to hunt buffa- 
 loes again ?" he said. " There are many this 
 year on the prairies of the Rio Gila." 
 
 " Yes," the Frenchman replied, "we are 
 going hunting. Does my brother intend 
 to accompany us ?" 
 
 " No ; my heart is sad." 
 " What means the chief ? Has any mis- 
 fortune happened to him ?" 
 
 " Does my brother understand me, or am 
 I really mistaken ? Is it that my brother 
 only really loves the buffaloes, whose meat 
 he eats, and whose hides he sells at the 
 tolderia?" 
 
 "Let my brother explain himself more 
 clearly ; then I will try to answer him." 
 
 There was a moment of silence. The In- 
 dian seemed to be reflecting deeply : his 
 nostrils were dilated, and at times his 
 black eye flashed fire. The Imnters calmly 
 awaited the issue of this conversation, whose 
 object they had not yet caught. At length 
 Unicorn raised his head, restored all the 
 serenity to his glance, and said in a soft 
 and melodious voice : 
 
 "Why pretend not to understand me, 
 Koutonepi ? A warrior must not have a 
 "brked tongue. What a man can not do 
 alone, two can attempt and carry out. Let 
 
 my brother speak : the ears of a friend are 
 open." 
 
 " My brother is right. I will not deceive 
 his expectations. The hunt I wish to make 
 is serious. I am anxious to save a womau 
 of my color ; but what can the will of one 
 man effect?" 
 
 " Koutonepi is not alone : I see. at. his side 
 the best two rifles of the frontier. W T hat 
 does the white hunter tell me? Is he no 
 longer the great warrior I knew ? Does h 
 doubt the friendship of his brother the great 
 sachem of the Comanches ?" 
 
 "I never doubted the friendship of my 
 brother. I am an adopted son of his nation. 
 At this very moment is he not seeking to do 
 me a service?" 
 
 " That service is only half what I wish to 
 do. Let my brother speak the word, and 
 two hundred Comanche warriors shall join 
 him to deliver the virgin of the pale-faces, 
 and take the scalps of her ravishers." 
 
 Valentine started with joy at this noble 
 offer. 
 
 "Thanks, chief," he said, eagerly. "I 
 accept; and I know that v our word is sa- 
 cred." 
 
 "Michabou protects us," the Indian said. 
 " My brother can count on me. A chief 
 does not forget a service. I owe obligations 
 to the pale hunter, and I will deliver to him 
 the robbers." 
 
 "Here is my hand, chief: my heart has 
 long been yours." 
 
 " My brother speaks well. I have done 
 what he requested of me." 
 
 And bowing courteously, the Comanche 
 chief withdrew without adding a word. 
 
 "Don Pablo," Valentine exclaimed, joy- 
 ously, "lean iK)\\ -guarantee your father's 
 safety : this night perhaps to-morrow he 
 will be free." 
 
 The young man fell into the hunter's arms, 
 and hid his' head on his honest chest, not 
 having the strength to utter a word. A few 
 minutes later the hunters left the clearing 
 to go in search of the gambusinos, and pre- 
 pare their ambuscade. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 SUNBEAM. 
 
 WE will now go a little way back, in order 
 to clear up certain portions of the conver- 
 sation between Valentine and Unicorn, 
 whose meaning the reader can not have 
 caught. 
 
 Only a few mouths after the arrival in 
 Apacherla the Frenchman and Curumilla 
 were hunting the buffalo on the banks of the 
 Rio Gila. It was a splendid day in the 
 mouth of July. The two hunters," fatigued 
 by a long march made under the beams of 
 the parching sun, that fell vertically on their 
 heads, had sheltered themselves under a 
 clump of cedar-wood trees, and, carelessly 
 
THE CAYMAN. 
 
 67 
 
 tretched out on the ground, wcro smoking 
 while waiting until the great heat had pus-.- 
 ed, and the evening breeze rose to enable 
 them to continue their hunt. A quarter 
 of elk was roasting for their dinner. 
 
 "Eh, penidr' > Valentine said, addressing 
 his comrade, and rising on his elbow, " the 
 dinner seems to be ready : so suppose we 
 feed? The sun is rapidly sinking behind 
 the forest, and we shall soon have to start 
 again." 
 " " Eat," Curumilla answered, sharply. 
 
 The meat was laid on a leaf between the 
 two hunters, who began eating with good 
 appetite. Valentine had taken a third bite 
 when he stopped, with his arm raised and 
 his head bent forward, as if an unusual sound 
 had suddenly smitten his ear. Curumilla 
 imitated his friend, and both listened with 
 that deep attention that only results from a 
 lengthened desert life ; for on the prairie 
 every sound is suspicious every meeting is 
 feared, especially with man. 
 
 Some time elapsed ere the noise which 
 startled the hunters was repeated. For a 
 moment they fancied themselves deceived, 
 and Valentine took another bite, when he 
 was again checked. This time he had dis- 
 tinctly heard a sound resembling a stifled 
 sigh, but so weak and hollow that it needed 
 the Trail-Hunter's practiced ear to catch 
 it. Curumilla himself had perceived nothing. 
 He looked at his friend in amazement, not 
 knowing to what he should attribute his 
 state of agitation. Valentine rose hurriedly, 
 seized his rifle, and rushed in the direction 
 of the river, his friend following him in all 
 haste. 
 
 It was from the river, in fact, that the 
 s;igh heard by Valentine had come, and for- 
 tunately it was but a few paces distant. So 
 soon as the hunters had leaped over the in- 
 tervening bushes they found themselves on 
 the bank, and a fearful sight presented itself 
 to their startled eyes. A long plank was de- 
 scending the river, turning on its axis, and 
 borne by the current, which ran rather 
 strongly" at this point. On this plank was 
 fastened a woman, who held a child in her 
 clasped arms. Each time the plank revolved 
 the unhappy woman plunged with her child 
 in the stream, and at ten "yards at the most 
 from it an enormous cayman was swimming 
 vigorously to snap at its two victims. 
 
 valentine raised his rifle. Curumilla at 
 the same moment glided into the water, 
 holding his knife-blade between his teeth, 
 and swam toward the plank. Valentine re- 
 mained for a few seconds motionless, as if 
 changed into a block of marble. All at 
 once he pulled the trigger, and the discharge 
 was re-echoed by the distant mountains. 
 The cayman leaped out of the water, and 
 plunged down again : but it reappeared a 
 moment later, belly upward. It was dead. 
 Valentine's bullet had passed through its 
 eye. 
 
 In the mean while Curumilla had reached 
 
 the plank with a few strokes. Without loss 
 of time he turned it in the opposite direction 
 from what it was following; and while hold- 
 ing it so that it could not revolve, he push- 
 ed it on the sand. In two itrokes he cut the 
 bonds that held the hapless woman, seized 
 her in his arms, and ran off with her to the 
 bivouac lire. 
 
 The poor woman gave no signs of life, 
 and the two hunters eagerly sought to re- 
 store her. She was an Indian, apparently 
 not more than eighteen, and very beautiful. 
 Valentine found great difficulty in loosening 
 her arms and removing the baby ; for the 
 frail creature, about a year old, by an incom- 
 prehensible miracle, had been preserved 
 thanks, doubtless, to its mother's devotion. 
 It smiled pleasantly at the hunter when he 
 laid it tenderly on a bed of dry leaves. 
 
 Curumilla opened the woman's mouth 
 slightly with his knife-blade, placed in it 
 the mouth of his gourd, and made her 
 swallow a few drops of liquor. A long time 
 elapsed ere she gave the slightest move that 
 indicated an approaching return to life. The 
 hunters, however, would not be foiled by 
 the ill-success of their attentions, but re- 
 doubled their efforts. At length a deep sigh 
 burst painfully from the sufferer's oppress- 
 ed chest, and she opened her eyes, murmw- 
 ing in a voice as weak as a breath, 
 
 ""My child!" 
 
 This cry of the soul this first and su- 
 preme appeal of a mother on the verge of 
 the tomb affected the two men with hearts 
 of bronze. Valentine cautiously lifted the 
 child, which had gone to sleep peacefully on 
 the leaves, and presented it to the mother, 
 saying in a soft voice : 
 
 "Mother, he lives!" 
 
 At these words which restored her hope, 
 the woman leaped up as if moved by a spring, 
 seized the child, and covered it with kisses, 
 as she burst into tears. The hunters respect- 
 ed this outpouring of maternal love : they 
 withdrew, leaving food and water by the 
 woman's side. At sunset the two men re- 
 turned. The woman was squatting by the 
 fire, nursing her child, and lulling it to sleep 
 by singing an Indian song. The night 
 passed tranquilly, the two hunters watching 
 in turn over the slumbers of the woman 
 they had saved, and who reposed in peace. 
 
 At sunrise she awoke ; and with the skill 
 and handiuess peculiar to the women of her 
 race, she rekindled the fire and prepared 
 breakfast. The two men looked at her with 
 a smile, then threw their rifles over their 
 shoulders, and set out in search of game. 
 When they returned to the bivouac the meal 
 was ready. After eating, Valentine lit his 
 Indian pipe, seated himself at the foot of 
 a tree, and addressed the young woman. 
 
 "What is my sister's name?'' he asked. 
 
 "Tonameyotl (the Sunbeam)," she re- 
 plied, with a joyous smile that revealed the 
 double row of pearls that adorned her 
 month. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 name," Valentine 
 answered. "She doubtless belongs to k the 
 great nation of the Apaches ?" 
 
 " The Apaches are dogs," she said in a 
 hollow voice, and with a flash of hatred in 
 her glance. " The Coraanche women will 
 weave them petticoats. The Apaches are 
 cowardly as coyotes : they only tight a hun- 
 dred aga'inst one. The Coinanche Avarriors 
 are like the tempest." 
 
 " Is my sister the wife of a chief?" 
 
 "Where is the warrior who does not 
 know Unicorn ?" she said proudly. 
 
 Valentine bowed. He had already heard 
 the name of this terrible chief pronounced 
 several times. Mexicans and Indians, trap- 
 pers, hunters, and warriors, all felt for him 
 a respect mingled with terror. 
 
 "Sunbeam is Unicorn's wife," the Indian 
 girl continued. 
 
 "Good!" Valentine answered. "My sis- 
 ter will tell me where to lind the village of 
 her tribe, and I will lead her back to the 
 chief." 
 
 The young woman smiled. 
 
 "I have in my heart a small bird that sings 
 at every instant of the day," she said in her 
 gentle and melodious voice. "The swallow 
 can not live without its mate, and the chief 
 is on the trail of the Sunbeam." 
 
 "We will await the chief here, then," 
 Valentine said. 
 
 The hunter felt great pleasure in convers- 
 ing with this simple child. 
 
 '* How was my sister thus fastened to the 
 trunk of a tree and thrown into the cur- 
 rent of the Gila, to perish there with her 
 child ? It is an atrocious vengeance." 
 
 "Yes, it is the vengeance of au Apache 
 dog," she answered. " Aztatl (the Heron), 
 daughter of Stanapat, the great chief of the 
 Apaches, loved Unicorn her heart bounded 
 at the mere name of the great Comanche 
 warrior; but the chief of my nation has 
 only one heart, and it belongs to Sunbeam. 
 Two days ago the warriors of my tribe set 
 out for a great buffalo-hunt, and the squaws 
 alone remained in the village. While I slept 
 in my hut, four Apache thieves, taking ad- 
 vantage of my slumber, seized me and my 
 child, and delivered us into the hands of 
 Stanapat' s daughter. 4 You love your hus- 
 band,' she said to me with a grin : ' you 
 doubtless suffer at being separated from him. 
 Be happy : I will send you to him by the 
 shortest road. He is hunting on the prairies 
 down the river, and in two hours you will 
 be in his arms, unless,' she added with a 
 langh, ' the caymans stop you on the road.' 
 ' The Comanche woman despises death,' I 
 answered her. ' For a hair you pluck from 
 me, Unicorn will take the scalps of your 
 whole tribe ; so act as you think proper;' 
 and I turned my head away, resolved to an- 
 swer her no more. She herself fastened rne 
 to the log, with my face turned to the sky, 
 in order, as she said, that I might see my 
 road ; and then she hurled me into the river, 
 
 yelling, ' Unicorn is a cowardly rabbit, 
 whom the Apache women despise. This is- 
 how I revenge myself.' I have told my 
 brother, the pale hunter, every thing as it- 
 happened." 
 
 "My sister is a brave woman," Valentine 
 replied : " she is worthy to be the wife of a 
 renowned chief." 
 
 The young mother smiled as she embrac- 
 ed her child, which she presented, with a 
 movement full of grace, to the hunter, who 
 kissed it on the forehead. At this moment 
 the song of the maukawis was heard at a 
 short distance off. The two hunters raised 
 their heads in surprise, and looked around 
 them. 
 
 " The quail sings very late, I fancy," Val- 
 entine muttered suspiciously. 
 
 The Indian girl smiled as she looked down, 
 but gve no answer. Suddenly a slight 
 cracking of dry branches disturbed the si- 
 lence. Valentine and Curumilla made a 
 move, as if to spring up and seize their rifles 
 that lay by their side. 
 
 " My brothers must not stir," the squaw 
 said quickly : " it is a friend." 
 
 The hunters remained motionless, and the 
 girl then imitated with rare perfection the 
 cry of the blue jay. The bushes parted, and 
 an Indian warrior, perfectly painted and 
 armed for w r ar, bounded like a jackal over 
 the grass and herbs that obstructed his pas- 
 sage, and stopped in face of the hunters. 
 IVe warrior was Unicorn. He saluted the 
 two men with that grace innate in the Indian 
 race; then he crossed his arms on his breast 
 and waited, without taking a glance at his 
 squaw, or even appearing to have seen her. 
 On her side the Indian woman did not 
 stir. 
 
 During several moments a painful silence 
 fell on the four persons whom chance had 
 brought together in so strange a way. At 
 length Valentine, seeing that tne warrior 
 insisted on being silent, decided he would 
 be the first to speak. 
 
 "Unicorn is welcome to our camp," he 
 said. " Let him take a seat by the tire of 
 his brothers, and share with them the pro- 
 visions they possess." 
 
 " I will take a seat by the fire of my pale- 
 face brother," he replied; "but he must 
 first answer me a question I wish to ask 
 him." 
 
 "My brother can speak: my ears are 
 open." 
 
 " Good !" the chief answered. " How is 
 it the hunters have with them Unicorn's 
 wife ?" 
 
 "Sunbeam can answer that question 
 best," Valentine said, gravely. 
 
 The chief turned to his squaw. 
 
 " I am waiting," he remarked. 
 
 The Indian woman repeated, word for 
 word, to her husband the story she had told 
 a few minutes before. Unicorn listened 
 without evincing either surprise or wrath ; 
 liia face remained impassive, but his bro\vs 
 
IRE COMANCHE VILLAGE. 
 
 were Imperceptibly contracted. When the 
 woman had finished speaking the Comanchc 
 bowed his head ou his chest, and remained 
 for a moment plunged in serious thought. 
 Presently he raised his head. 
 
 "Who saved Sunbeam from the river 
 when she was about to perish ?" lie asked 
 her. 
 
 The young, woman's face was lit up with a 
 charming smile. 
 
 " These hunters," she replied. 
 
 " Good!" the chief said, laconically, as he 
 beut on the two men a glance full of the 
 tit unspeakable gratitude. 
 Could we leave her to perish ?" Valen- 
 tine said. 
 
 "My brothers did well. Unicorn is one 
 of the first sachems of his nation. His 
 tongue is not forked : he gives his heart 
 once, and takes it back no more. Unicorn's 
 heart belongs to the hunters." 
 
 These simple words were uttered with 
 the majesty and grandeur the Indians know 
 so well how to assume when they think 
 proper. The two men vowed their gratitude, 
 and the chief continued : 
 
 " Unicorn is returning to his village with 
 his wife : his young men are awaiting him 
 twenty paces from here. He would be hap- 
 py if the hunters would consent to accom- 
 pany him there." 
 
 "Chief," Valentine answered, " we came 
 into the prairie to hunt the buffalo." 
 
 "Well, what matter? My brothers will 
 hunt with me and my young men; but if 
 they wish to prove to me that they accept 
 my friendship, they will follow me to my 
 village." 
 
 "The chief is mounted, while we are on 
 foot." 
 
 "I have horses." 
 
 Any further resistance would have been 
 a brekch of politeness, and the hunters ac- 
 cepted the invitation. Valentine, whom ac- 
 cident had brought out to the prairies of 
 the Rio Gila and Del Norte, was in his heart 
 not sorry to make friends there, and have 
 allies on whose support he could reckon in 
 case of need. The squaw had by this time 
 risen : she timidly approached her husband, 
 and held up the child, saying ,in a soft and 
 frightened voice: 
 
 "Kiss this warrior." 
 
 The chief took the frail creature in his 
 muscular arms, and kissed it repeatedly with 
 ;i display of extraordinary tenderness, and 
 then returned it to the mother. The latter 
 wrapped the babe in a small blanket, then 
 placed it ou a plank shaped like a cradle, and 
 covered with dry moss, fastened a hoop over 
 the place where its head rested, to guard it 
 from the burning beams of the sun, and 
 hung the whole on her back by means of a 
 woolen strap passing over her forehead. 
 
 "I am ready," she said. 
 
 11 Let us go," the chief replied. 
 
 The hunters followed him and they were 
 soon on the prairio. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE ADOPTION. 
 
 SOME Hxty Comanche warriors were ly- 
 ing in the grass awaiting their sachem, 
 while their tethered horses were nibbling 
 the tall prairie grasses and the tree-shoots. 
 It could be seen" at the first glance that these 
 men were picked warriors, selected for a 
 dangerous expedition. From the heels of 
 all dangled live or six wolf-tails marks of 
 honor which only renowned warriors have 
 the right to wear. 
 
 On seeing their chief they hurriedly rostf 
 and leaped into their saddles. All were 
 aware that their sachem's wife had been 
 carried off, and the object of their expedi- 
 tion was to deliver her. Still, on noticing 
 her, they evidenced no surprise, but saluted 
 her as if she had left them only a few mo- 
 ments previously. The war-party had with 
 it several horses, which the chief ordered to 
 be given to his squaw and his new friends : 
 then, at a signal from him, the whole party 
 started at full speed, for the Indians know 
 no other pace than the gallop. 
 
 After about two hours' ride they reacheti 
 the vicinity of the village, which could be 
 smelt some time before reaching, owing to 
 the habit the Comanches have of placing 
 their dead on scaffoldings outside the vil- 
 lages, where they molderaway: these scaf- 
 foldings, composed of four stakes planted in 
 the ground, terminated in a fork, while from 
 poles stuck up near them hung skins and 
 other offerings made by the Indians to the 
 genius of good. 
 
 At the entrance of the village a number 
 of horsemen were assembled, awaiting the 
 return of the sachem. So soon as they per- 
 ceived him they burst into a formidable yell, 
 and rushed forward like a whirlwind, shout- 
 ing, firing guns, and brandishing their 
 weapons. " Unicorn's band "ollowed this ex- 
 ample, and there was soot i most extraor- 
 dinary confusion. 
 
 The sachem made his entry into the village 
 in the midst of shouts, barking of dogs, 
 and shots; in short, ha was accompanied to 
 the square by an indescribable row. On 
 reaching it the warriors stopped. Unicorn 
 begged the hunters to dismount, and gui- 
 ded them to his cabin, which he made them 
 enter before him. 
 
 " Now," he said to them, " brothers, you 
 are at home : rest in peace, eat and drink. 
 This evening I will come and talk with you, 
 and make you a proposal which I sincerely 
 hope you will not reject." 
 
 The two hunters, wearied by the long 
 ride they had made, fell back with extreme 
 satisfaction on the beds of dried leaves which 
 awaited them. 
 
 "Well," Valentine asked Curumilla, 
 " what do you say about what ia happening 
 to us ?" 
 
 "It may be good." 
 
 "Can it- not?' 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 "Yee." 
 
 On which Cururnilla fell asleep, and 
 Valentine soon followed his example. As 
 he had promised, toward evening Unicorn 
 entered the cabin. 
 
 " Have my brothers rested ?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes," Valentine answered. 
 
 " Are they disposed to listen to me?" 
 
 u Speak, chief ; we are listening." 
 
 The Comanche sachem then squatted 
 near the fire, and remained for several min- 
 utes, with his head bent forward and his 
 eyes fixed on the ground, in the position of 
 a man who is reflecting'. At length he 
 raised his head, stretched forth his arm as 
 if to give greater authority to the words he 
 was about to utter, and began thus : 
 
 "Brother, you and your friend are two 
 brave warriors. The prairies rejoice at your 
 arrival among us ; the deer and the buffa- 
 loes fly at your approach ; for your arm is 
 strong, and your eye unerring. Unicorn is 
 only a poor Indian; but he is a great warrior 
 among the Comanches, and a much-feared 
 chief of his tribe. You have saved his wife, 
 Sunbeam, whom the Apache dogs threw into 
 the Gila, and whom the hideous alligators 
 were preparing to devour. Since his wife, 
 the joy of his hearth, and his son, the hope 
 of his old days, have been restored to him, 
 Unicorn has sought in his heart the means 
 to prove to you his gratitude. He asked 
 the Chief of Life what he could do to attach 
 you to him. Unicorn is terrible in combat; 
 he has the heart of the grizzly bear for his 
 enemies he has the heart of the gazelle, for 
 those he loves." 
 
 "Chief," Valentine answered, "the words 
 you utter at this moment amply repay us 
 for what we have clone. We are happy to 
 have saved the wife and son of a celebrated 
 warrior: our reward is in our hearts, and 
 we wish for no other." 
 
 The chief shook his head. 
 
 " No," he said ; " the two hunters are no 
 longer strangers for the Comanches : they 
 are the brothers of our tribe. During their 
 sleep Unicorn assembled round the council- 
 fire the chiefs of his nation, and told them 
 what has passed. The chiefs have ranged 
 themselves on Unicorn's side, and have or- 
 dered him to make known to the hunters 
 the resolution they have formed." 
 
 "Speak, then, chief," Valentine said, "and 
 believe that the wishes of the council will 
 be commands to us." 
 
 A smile of joy played round the chiefs 
 lips. 
 
 "Good!" he said. "This is what was 
 agreed on among the great chiefs. My broth- 
 ers the hunters will be adopted by the tribe, 
 and be henceforth sons of the great Coman- 
 che nation. What say my brothers ?" 
 
 A lively feeling of pleasure made Valen- 
 tine quiver at this unexpected proposition. 
 To be adopted by the Comanche tribe was 
 obtaining the right of hunting over the 
 whole extent of the immense prairies which 
 
 that powerful nation holds through Its in- 
 domitable courage and the number of its 
 warriors. The hunter exchanged a glance 
 with his silent comrade and rose. 
 
 "I accept for myself and friend," he said, 
 as he held out his hand to the chief, " the 
 honor the Comanches do us in admitting us 
 into the number of the sons of their warlike 
 nation. We shall prove ourselves worthy 
 of this marked favor." 
 
 Unicorn smiled. 
 
 "To-morrow," he said, as he rose, " my 
 brothers will be adopted by the nation." 
 
 After bowing gracefully to the hunters he 
 took leave of them and withdrew. The next 
 daybreak the chiefs entered the cabin. Val- 
 entine and Curumilla were ready, and had 
 long been acquainted with the trials they 
 would have to undergo. They were conduct- 
 ed into the great medicine-hut, where a co- 
 pious meal was prepared. It consisted of 
 dog-meat boiled in bear-fat, tortillas, maize, 
 and hautle cakes. The chiefs squatted in a 
 circle, while the squaws waited on them. 
 
 When the meal was ended all rose. Uni- 
 corn placed himself between the two hunt- 
 ers, laid his hands on their heads, and struck 
 up the great war-song. This song was re- 
 peated in chorus by the company to the 
 sound of the war-whistles and drums. The 
 following is the translation of the song : 
 
 " Master of Life, repard ns with a favorable eye. 
 
 We are receiving two brothors in arms who appear to have sense. 
 
 They display vijror in their arms. 
 
 They fear not to expose their boaies to ihe blows of the enomy." 
 
 It is impossible for any one who has not 
 been present at the ceremony to form even a 
 distant idea of the frightful noise produced 
 by their hoarse voices mingled with the shrill 
 and discordant instruments ; it was enough to 
 produce a deafness. When the song was end- 
 ed each took his seat by the council-fire. 
 
 The hunters were seated on beaver-skins, 
 and the great war-calumet was presented to 
 them, from which each took several puffs, 
 and it went the round. Unicorn then rose, 
 and fastened round the neck of each a wam- 
 pum collar, and another made of the claws 
 of the grizzly bear. The Indians, during 
 this time, had built near the medicine-lodge 
 a cabin for the sweating, and when it was 
 finished the hunters took off their clothes 
 and entered it. The chiefs then brought 
 two large stones which had been previously 
 made red-hot, and after closing the hut 
 carefully, left the neophytes in it. 
 
 The latter threw water on the stones, and 
 the steam which arose almost immediately 
 produced a perspiration. When this was at 
 its night the hunters ran out of the hut, 
 passed through the double row of warriors, 
 and leaped into the river, according to the 
 usual fashion. They were immediately drawn 
 from the water, wrapped in blankets, and 
 led to Unicorn's hut, in order to undergo 
 the final trial, which is also the most painful. 
 The hunters were laid on their backs, and 
 
TIIE TATTOOING. 
 
 then Unicorn traced on their chests, with a 
 stick dipped in water in which gunpowder 
 bad been dissolved, the figure of the animal 
 serving as totem ^protector) to the tribe. 
 Tben with two spikes fastened to a small 
 piece of wood, and dipped in vermilion, he 
 proceeded to prick the design. 
 
 Whenever I nicorn came to a place that 
 was too hard he made an incision in the 
 flesh with a gun-flint. The places that were; 
 not marked With vermilion were rubbed in 
 with powder, so that the result was a red 
 and blue tattooing. During the course uf 
 this operation the war-songs and chikikoues 
 were constantly heard, in order to drown 
 the cries which the atrocious pain might 
 draw from the patients ; but the latter en- 
 dured it all without even a contraction of 
 the eyebrows evidencing the pain that must 
 have been felt. 
 
 When the tattooing was over the wound* 
 were cauterized with rotten-wood to prevent 
 suppuration : then they were washed with 
 cold water, in which had been infused an 
 herb resembling box, a great deal of which 
 the Indians mix with their tobacco to re- 
 duce its strength. The trial we have de- 
 scribed is so painful to endure, that nearly 
 always it is only accomplished at intervals, 
 and often lasts a week. This time the hunt- 
 ers endured it bravely during the six hours 
 it lasted, not uttering a cry, or giving a sign 
 of weakness. Hence the Indians, from this 
 moment, regarded them with a species of re- 
 spect: for with them courage is the first of 
 qualities. 
 
 '" My brothers are children of the tribe," 
 the chief said, offering each a horse. " The 
 prairie belongs to them. These coursers" 
 will bear them to the most remote limits of 
 the desert, chasing the wild beasts, or pursu- 
 ing the Apache dogs." 
 
 " Good !" Valentine answered. 
 
 At one bound the two hunters were in 
 their saddles, and made, their horses per- 
 form the most elegant and graceful curvets. 
 This last and heroic deed, after all they had 
 suffered during the course of the day, raised 
 to their full bight the joy and enthusiasm of 
 the Comanches, who applauded with frenzi- 
 ed shouts and yells all they saw their new 
 brothers execute. After remaining nearly 
 an hour on horseback they dismounted, and 
 followed the chiefs into the medicine-lodge ; 
 and when each had taken his seat round 
 the council-fire, and the calumet had again 
 been smoked, Unicorn rose. 
 
 " The Master of Life loves his Comanche 
 sons, since He gives them for brothers such 
 warriors as Koutonepi and Curumilla. Who 
 can equal their courage ? Who would dare 
 to contend with them? On their approach 
 the grizzly bear hides at the extremity of 
 its den; the jaguar bounds far away on see- 
 ing them : the eagle itself, which looks the 
 sun in the face, flies from their unerring 
 bullet. Brothers, we congratulate ourselves 
 on counting you among our warriors. Hence- 
 
 forth we shall be invincible. Brothers, give 
 up the names you have up to this day borne, 
 and assume those we now give you. You, 
 Koutonepi, are henceforth Quauhtli, and 
 bear the name of that eagle, whose courage 
 and strength you possess. You, Curumilla, 
 will be called Vexolotl, and the cock will be 
 proiul to see that you have taken possession 
 of its name. 1 ' 
 
 The two hunters warmly thanked their 
 new brothers, and were led back by the chiefs 
 to their cabin, who wished them a pleasant 
 night after so rude a day. Such was the 
 way in which Valentine and Curumilla, to 
 whom we shall continue to give their old 
 names, formed the acquaintance of Unicorn, 
 and the result of it. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE MISSIONARY. 
 
 WITH time the relations existing between 
 the hunters and the Indians were drawn 
 closer, and became more friendly. In the 
 desert physical strength is the quality most 
 highly esteemed. Man, compelled to strug- 
 
 le incessantly against the dangers of every 
 escription that rise each moment before 
 him, is bound to look only to himself foi 
 the means to surmount them. Hence the In- 
 dians profess a profound contempt for sick- 
 ly people, and weak and timid nerves. 
 
 Valentine easily induced Unicorn to seize, 
 during the hunt of the wild horses, the Mex- 
 ican magistrates, in order to make hostages 
 of them if the conspiracy were unsuccessful. 
 What the hunter foresaw happened. Red 
 Cedar had opposed stratagem to stratagem ; 
 and, as we have seen, Don Miguel was ar- 
 rested in the midst of his triumph, at the very 
 moment when he fancied himself master of 
 the Paso del Nprte. 
 
 After Valentine, Curumilla, and Don Pa- 
 blo had seen, from their hiding-place in the 
 bushes, the mournful escort pass that was 
 taking Don Miguel as a prisoner to Santa F6, 
 they held a council. Moments were 
 precious, for in Mexico conspirators have 
 the sad privilege over other prisoners of be- 
 ing tried quickly, and not left to pine. The 
 prisoner must be saved. Valentine, with 
 that promptitude of decision which formed 
 the salient point of his character, soon ar- 
 ranged in his head one of those bold schemes 
 which only he could discover. 
 
 " Courage !" he said to Don Pablo. "As 
 long as the heart beats in the breast there is 
 hope, thank Heaven ! The first hand is 
 lost, I allow ; but now for the second game." 
 
 Don Pablo had entire faith in Valentine : 
 he had often been in the position to try his 
 friend. If these words did not completely 
 reassure him, they at least almost restored 
 his hope, and gave him back that courage 
 so necessary to him at this supreme moment, 
 and which had abandoned him. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 "Speak, my friend," he said. "What is 
 to be done ?" 
 
 " Let us attend to the most important thing 
 first, nnd save Father Seraphiu, who devot- 
 ed himself for us." 
 
 The throe men started. The night was a 
 gloomy one. The moon only appeared at 
 intervals : incessantly vailed by thick clouds 
 which passed over its disk, it seemed to 
 shed its sickly rays regretfully on the earth. 
 The wind whistled through the branches of 
 the trees, which uttered mysterious mur- 
 murs as they came into collision. The co- 
 yotes howled in the plain, and at times their 
 sinister forms shot athwart the sky-line. 
 After a march of about an hour the three 
 men approached the spot where the mission- 
 ary had fallen from the effect of Red Cedar's 
 bullet ; but he had disappeared. An alarm 
 mingled with a frightful agony contracted 
 the hunters' hearts'. Valentine took a de- 
 spairing glance around ; but the darkness 
 was too dense for him possibly to distinguish 
 any thing. 
 
 " What is to be done ?" Don Pab'lo asked 
 sadly. 
 
 " Seek," Valentine replied sharply: "lie 
 can not be far off." 
 
 Curumilla had already taken up the trail, 
 and had disappeared in the gloom. The 
 Araucano had never been a great speaker 
 naturally : with age he had grown almost 
 dumb, and never uttered a word save when 
 absolutely necessary. But if the Indian 
 did not talk, he acted ; and in critical situa- 
 tions his determination was often worth 
 long harangues. Don Pablo, obedient to 
 Valentine's orders, threw his rifle over his 
 shoulder, and prepared to execute them. 
 
 " Where are you going V" the hunter ask- 
 ed him, as he seized his arm. 
 
 " To look for Father Seraphin." 
 
 "Wait." 
 
 The two men stood motionless, listening 
 to the mysterious sounds of the desert, that 
 nameless melody which plunges the soul in- 
 to a soft reverie. Nearly an hour passed 
 thus, nothing revealing to the hunters that 
 Curumilla' s search had proved successful. 
 Valentine growing impatient at this long de- 
 lay, was also preparing to go on the trail, 
 when all at once the weak, snapping cry of 
 the w-.ilkon rose in the air. 
 
 " What's that ?" Don Pablo asked in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "Silence!" Valentine muttered. 
 
 A second time the walkon sung, but this 
 time stronger, and much nearer. Valentine 
 raised his lingers to his lips, and imitated 
 the sharp, shrill yell of the ocelot twice with 
 such perfection, that Don Pablo started in- 
 voluntarily, and looked round for the wild 
 beast, whose eyes he fancied he could see 
 flashing behind a thicket. Almost immedi- 
 ately the note of the walkon was heard a 
 third time. Valentine rested the butt of his 
 rifle on the ground. 
 
 " Good !*' he said, " Do not be alarmed, 
 
 Don Pablo. Curumilla has found Father 
 Seraphiu." 
 
 The young man looked at him in amaze- 
 ment. The hunter smiled. 
 
 "They will both arrive directly," he 
 said. 
 
 " How do you know ?" 
 
 "Child!" Valentine interrupted him, "in 
 the desert the human voice is more injuri- 
 ous than useful. The song of birds, the cry 
 of wild beasts, serve us as language." 
 
 "Yes," the young man answered simply, 
 "that is true. I have often heard it stated; 
 but I was not aware you could understand 
 one another so easily." 
 
 " That is nothing," the hunter remarked, 
 good humoredly : "you will see much more 
 if you only pass a mouth in our company." 
 
 In a few moments the sound of footsteps 
 became audible, at first faint, then gradually 
 coming nearer, and two shadows were dimly 
 drawn on the night. 
 
 " Hallo !" Valentine shouted, as he raised 
 and cocked his rifle, " friend or foe ?" 
 
 " Pennis (brothers,)" a voice answered. 
 
 " It is Curumilla," said Valentine. "Let 
 us go to meet him." 
 
 Don Pablo followed him, and they soon 
 reached the Indian, who walked slowly, 
 obliged as he was to support, almost carry, 
 the missionary. 
 
 When Father Seraphin fell off his horse 
 he almost immediately lost his senses. He 
 remained for a long time lying in the ditch, 
 but by degrees the night cold had brought 
 him round again. At the first moment the 
 poor priest, whose ideas were still confused, 
 1 ad cast anxious glances around him, while 
 asking himself how he came there, and by 
 what concourse of strange events it had 
 happened. He tried to rise; but then a 
 poignant pain he felt in his shoulders re- 
 minded him of what had occurred. Still ho 
 did not despair. Alone by night in the 
 desert; exposed to a thousand unknown 
 dangers, of which the least was being de- 
 voured by wild beasts ; without weapons to 
 defend himself ; too weak, indeed, to at- 
 tempt it, even if he had them, he resolved 
 not to remain in this terrible position, but 
 make the greatest efforts to rise, and drag 
 himself as well as he could to the Paso, 
 which was three leagues distant at the most, 
 where he was sure of finding that care his 
 condition demanded. 
 
 Father Seraph in, like the majority of the 
 missionaries who generously devote them- 
 selves to the welfare of humanity, was a man 
 who, under a weak and almost feminine ap- 
 pearance, concealed an indomitable energy, 
 and a resolution that would withstand 'all 
 trials. So soon as he had formed his plan 
 he began carrying it out. With extreme 
 difficulty and atrocious pain he succeeded in 
 fastening his handkerchief round his shoul- 
 der, so as to check the hemorrhage. It 
 took more than an hour before he could 
 stand on his legs : often he felt himself faint- 
 
THE WOU3DED MIW20MLR7. 
 
 ing, a cold perspiratiou beaded at the root 
 of lii hair, he had a buzzing in his ears, and 
 every thing seemed to be turning round 
 him ; but he wrestled with the pain, clasp- 
 ed his hands with an effort, raised his tear- 
 laden eyes to heaven, and murmured from 
 the bottom of his heart : 
 
 41 OH GOD! deign to support thy servant, 
 for he has set on Thee all his hope and con- 
 ndeuce." 
 
 Prayer, when made with faith, produces 
 in a man an effect whose consequences are 
 immediate : it consoles him, gives him cour- 
 age, and almost restores him the strength 
 that has deserted him. This was what hap- 
 pened to Father Seraphin. After uttering 
 these few words he set out boldly, support- 
 ing his tottering footsteps with a stick, 
 which a providential chance had placed in 
 his way, He walked thus for nearly half a 
 league* stopping at every instant to draw 
 breath : but human endurance has limits be- 
 yond which it can not go. In spite of the 
 efforts he made, the missionary at length 
 felt his legs give way under him ; he under- 
 stood that he could not go farther ; and he 
 sunk at the foot of a tree, certain that he had 
 attempted impossibilities, and henceforth 
 resigning to Providence the care of saving 
 him. 
 
 It was at this moment Curumilla arrived 
 near him. The Indian aided him to rise, 
 and then warned his comrades of the suc- 
 cess of his search. Father Seraphin, though 
 the chief offered to carry him, refused, and 
 wished to walk to join his friends ; but his 
 strength deserted him a second time, he 
 lost his senses, and fell into the arms of the 
 [ndian, who watched him attentively ; for 
 he noticed his incrensing weakness, and 
 foresaw his fall. Valentine and Curumilla 
 hastily constructed a litter of tree- branches, 
 on which they laid the poor wounded man, 
 and raising him on their shoulders, went off 
 with him rapidly. The night passed away, 
 and the sim was already hig'h on the horizon, 
 and yet the hunters were marching. At 
 length, at about eleven o'clock, they reached 
 the cavern which served Valentine as a 
 .-helter, and to which he had resolved to car- 
 h is patient, that he might himself nurse 
 flirt. 
 
 Father Seraphin was in a raging fever; 
 his face was red, his eyes flashing. As near- 
 ly always happens with gun-shot wounds, a 
 suppurating fever had declared itself. The 
 missionary was laid on a bed of furs, and 
 Valentine immediately prepared to probe 
 the wound. By a singular chance the ball 
 had lodged in the shoulder without fractur- 
 ing the blade- bone. Valentine drew it; 
 iincl then, helped by Curumilla, who had 
 quietly pounded oregano leaves, he formed 
 a cataplasm, which he laid on the wound, 
 after first carefully washing it. Scarcely had 
 this been done ere the missionary fell into 
 
 deep sleep, which lasted till nightfall. 
 
 Vrteutiue's treatment had effected won- 
 
 ders. The fever had disappeared, the priest' 9 
 features were calmed, the flush that pui- 
 plcd his cheeks had given place to a pallet 
 caused by the- loss of blood ; in short, he 
 was as well as could be expected. On open- 
 ing his eyes he perceived the three hunt- 
 ers watching him anxiously. He smiled, 
 and said in a weak voice : 
 
 " Thanks, my brothers, thanks for the 
 help you have afforded me. Heaven will 
 reward you. I feel much better." 
 
 "The Lord be praised!" Valentine an- 
 swered. " You will escape, my father, more 
 cheaply than I had dared to hope." 
 
 "Can it be possible V" 
 
 "Yes; your wound, though serious, is 
 not dangerous, and in a few days you can, 
 if you think necessary, resume your avoca- 
 tions." 
 
 " I thank you for this new good, my dear 
 Valentine. I no longer count the times i 
 owed my life to yon. Heaven, in its infinite 
 goodness has placed you near me to support 
 me in my tribulations, and succor me in days 
 of danger." 
 
 The hunter blushed. 
 
 "Do not speak so, my father," he said; 
 "I have only performed a sacred duty. Do 
 you feel strong enough to talk for a few 
 minutes with me ?" 
 
 " Yes. Speak, my friend " 
 
 " 1 wished to ask your advice." 
 
 "My talents are very slight: still you 
 know how I love you, Valentine. Tell me 
 what vexes you, and perhaps I may be use- 
 ful to you." 
 
 "I believe it, my father." 
 
 " Speak, then, in heaven's name, my 
 friend; for, if you have recourse to me, the 
 affair must be very serious." 
 
 "It can not be more so." 
 
 " Go on : I am listening." 
 
 And the missionary settled himself on his 
 bed to hear as comfortably as he could the 
 confession the hunter wished to make to 
 him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE INTERVIEW. 
 
 AT daybreak the next morning Curumilla 
 started for Unicorn's village. At sunset he 
 returned to the cavern, accompanied by the 
 Comanche chief. The sachem entertained 
 the most profound respect for Father Sera- 
 phin, whose noble character he could appre- 
 ciate, and felt pained at the state in which 
 he found him. 
 
 " Father," he said to him, as he kissed his 
 hand, " who are the villains who thus wound- 
 ed yon, to whom the Master of Life has im- 
 parted the secret to make us happy ? Who- 
 ever they maybe, these men shall die." 
 
 " My son," the priest answered, gently, 
 " I will not pronsunce before you the name 
 of the unhappy man who, in a moment of 
 madness, raised his hand against me. My 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER, 
 
 God is a God of peace; he is merciful, and 
 recommends his creatures to forget inju- 
 ries, and requite good for evil." 
 
 The Indian looked at him in amazement. 
 He did not understand the soft and touch- 
 ing sublimity of these precepts of love. 
 Educated in the sanguinary principles of 
 his race persuaded like all red-skins, that a 
 warrior's first duty is revenge he only ad- 
 mitted that ferocious law of the prairies 
 which commands, " Eye for eye, tooth for 
 tooth" a terrible law, which we do not 
 venture, however, utterly to condemn in 
 these countries, where ambushes are per- 
 manent, and implacable death stands at 
 every corner of the road. 
 
 "My son," Father Seraphin continued, 
 ' you are a great warrior. Many a time you 
 have braved the atrocious tortures of the 
 stake of blood, a thousand-fold more terri- 
 ble than death itself. Often have you, with 
 a pleasure I excuse (for it is in your nature,) 
 thrown down your enemy, and planted your 
 knee on his chest. Have you never par- 
 doned anybody in fight ?" 
 
 " Never !" the Indian answered, his eye 
 sparkling with satisfied pride. " Unicorn 
 has sent many Apache dogs to the happy 
 hunting-grounds : their scalps are drying at 
 the door of his cabin." 
 
 " Well," the missionary said, gently, 
 " try clemency once, only once, and you 
 will know one of the greatest pleasures God 
 has granted to man on this earth that of 
 pardoning." 
 
 The chief shook his head. 
 
 " No," he said ; " a dead enemy is no 
 longer to be feared. Better to kill than leave 
 him means to avenge himself at a later 
 date." 
 
 14 My son, you love me, I believe?" 
 
 " Yes. My father is good ; he has behaved 
 well to the Comanches, and they are grate- 
 ful. Let, my father command, and his sou 
 will obey." 
 
 "I have no right to give you an order, 
 my sou. I can only ask a favor of you." 
 
 "Good! My father can explain himself. 
 Unicorn will do what he desires." 
 
 "Well, then," said the missionary, with a 
 lively feeling of joy, " promise me to pardon 
 the first unhappy man, whoever he may 
 be, who falls into your hands, and you will 
 render me happy." 
 
 The chief frowned, and an expression of 
 dissatisfaction appeared on his features. 
 Father Seraphin anxiously followed on the 
 Comanche's intelligent countenance the dif- 
 ferent shadows reflected on it as in a mirror. 
 At length the Indian regained his stoicism, 
 and his face grew serene again. 
 
 " Does my father demand it?" he asked, 
 in a gentle voice. 
 
 "I desire it." 
 
 " Be it so : my father shall be satisfied. I 
 promise him to pardon the first enemy whom 
 the Manitou causes to fall beneath the point 
 of my lance." 
 
 " Thanks, chief," the missionary exclaim- 
 ed, joyfully, "thanks! Heaven will reward 
 you for this good idea." 
 
 The Indian bowed silently and turned to 
 Valentine, who had been listening to the 
 conversation. 
 
 "My brother called me, and I came. 
 What does he want of Unicorn?" 
 
 "My brother will take his seat at the 
 council-fire, and smoke the calumet with 
 his friend. Chiefs do not speak without re- 
 flecting on the words they are about to ut- 
 ter." 
 
 " My brother speaks well, and I will take 
 my seat at his fire." 
 
 Curumilla had lighted a large fire in the 
 first grotto of the cavern. The four men 
 left Father Seraphin to take a few minutes' 
 rest, and seated themselves round the fire, 
 when the calumet passed from hand to hand. 
 The Indians never undertake any thing im- 
 portant, or commence a discussion, without 
 first smoking the calumet in council, what- 
 ever may be the circumstances in which 
 they are placed. W r hen the calumet had 
 gone the round Valentine rose. 
 
 "Every day," hesaid, bowingtothe chief, 
 "I appreciate more and more the honor the 
 Comanches did me in adopting me as a son. 
 My brother's nation is powerful; its hunt- 
 ing-grounds cover the whole surface of the 
 earth. The Apaches fly before the Coman- 
 che warriors like cowardly coyotes before 
 courageous men. My brother has al- 
 ready several times done me a service with 
 that greatness of soul which distinguishes 
 him, and can only belong to a warrior so 
 celebrated as he is. To-day I have again a 
 service to ask of my brother, and wilf he do 
 it me ? I presume so ; for I know his heart, 
 and that the Great Spirit of the Master of 
 Life dwells in him." 
 
 "Let my brother explain," Unicorn an- 
 swered. "He is speaking to a chief: he 
 must remove the skin from his heart, and 
 let his blood flow red aud bright before a 
 friend. The great white hunter is a portion 
 of myself. I should have to be prevented 
 by an arrant impossibility if I refused any 
 request emanating from him." 
 
 "Thanks, brother," Valentine said with 
 emotion. " Your words have passed from 
 your lips into my breast, which they have 
 rejoiced. I am not mistaken. I see that 1 
 can ever count on your well-tried friendship 
 and honest aid. Don Miguel Zarate, the de- 
 scendant of the Mexican kings, the friend 
 of the red-skins, whom he has ever protect- 
 ed, is a prisoner to the gaeimpmos. They 
 have carried him to Santa Fd in order to put 
 him to death, and deprive the Indians of the 
 last friend left them." 
 
 " And what does my brother want ?" 
 
 "I wish to sav my friend." 
 
 "Good!" the chief answered. "My 
 brother claims my help to succeed in that 
 project, I suppose ?" 
 
UXICORWS PLEDGE. 
 
 75 
 
 II 
 
 "Good! My brother can feel reassured." 
 "I can count, then, on my brother's 
 aid?" Valentine asked, quickly. 
 The chief smiled. 
 
 " Unicorn hokls in his hands Spaniards 
 
 who will answer for the life of the prisoner." 
 
 "That is true!" Valentine exclaimed as 
 
 he struck his forehead. "Your idea .is a 
 
 good One, chief." 
 
 " My brother will leave me to act. I an- 
 swer for success on my head." 
 
 "Act as you please, chief. Still, were it 
 only for form's sake, I should not be sorry 
 to know what you intend doing." 
 
 "My brother has a white skin, but his 
 heart is Indian. Let him trust to the -pru- 
 dence of a chief : Unicorn knows how to 
 treat with the gachupiuos." 
 "Doubtless." 
 
 " Unicorn will go to Santa Fe to speak 
 with the chief of the white men." 
 
 Valentine looked at him in amazement. 
 The chief smiled. 
 " Have I not hostages ?" he said. 
 "That is true," Valentine remarked. 
 The chief went on : 
 
 'The Spaniards are, like chattering old 
 omen, prodigal of seductive words ; but 
 nicoru knows them. How many times 
 ready has he trodden the war-path on their 
 rritory at the head of his warriors ! They 
 ill not dare to deceive him. Ere the sun 
 twice accomplished its revolution round 
 e tortoise whose immense shell supports 
 e world, the chief of the Comanches will 
 Try the bloody arrows to the whites, and 
 pose to them peace or war. Is my broth- 
 satisfied?" 
 
 " I am. My heart is full of gratitude to- 
 ward my red brother." 
 
 "Good ! What is that to Unicorn ? Less 
 than nothing. Has my brother any thing 
 
 to ask of me?" 
 "One thing more." 
 
 " Let my brother explain himself as quick- 
 as possible, that no cloud may remain 
 tween him and his red brother." 
 "I will dp so. Men without fear of the 
 Spirit, urged by some mad desire, 
 ve carried", pff Dona Clara, the daughter 
 the white chief whom my brother is 
 edged to save." 
 
 Who are these men ? Does my brother 
 know them?" 
 
 " Yes, I know them only too well. They 
 are bandits, at the head of whom is a mon- 
 ster with a human face, called Red Cedar." 
 At this name the Indian started slightly, 
 his eye flashed fire, and a deep wrinkle hol- 
 lowed his forehead. 
 
 "K'u Cedar is aferocious jaguar," he said 
 with concentrated passion. ""He has made 
 himself the scourge of the Indians, whose 
 scalps he desires. This man has no pity 
 either for women or children, but he possess- 
 no courage: he only attacks his enemies 
 the dark, twenty against one, and when 
 
 rf> nf TYiOfvfinof nriH-i TT^ -vn a i c? -fkivi K'a 
 
 is sure of meeting with no resistance.' 
 
 " My brother knows this man, I see." 
 
 "And this man has carried off the white 
 gazelle?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Good! My brother wishes to know 
 what Red Cedar has done with his prison- 
 er?" 
 
 "I do wish it." 
 
 The Indian rose. 
 
 " Time is slipping away," he said. " Uni- 
 corn will return to his friends. My brother 
 the hnnter need not feel alarmed : a chief is 
 watching." 
 
 After uttering these few words the chief 
 went down into the cavern, mounted his 
 horse, and disappeared in the direction of 
 the desert. Valentine had every reason to 
 be satisfied with his interview with the 
 Comanche chief ; but Father Seraphin was 
 less pleased than the hunter. The worthy 
 priest, both through his nature and his vo- 
 cation, was not disposed to employ violent 
 measures, which were repugnant to him: he 
 would have liked, were it possible, to settle 
 every thing by gentleness, and without run- 
 ning the risk of bloodshed. 
 
 Three weeks elapsed, however, ere Uni- 
 corn appeared to be effectually carrying, out 
 the plan he had explained to Valentine, who 
 only learnt indirectly that a strong party of 
 Comanehe warriors had invaded the Mexican 
 frontiers. Father Seraphin, though not yet 
 completely cured, had insisted on proceed- 
 ing to Santa Fe to take some steps to save 
 Don Miguel, whose trial had gone on rapid- 
 ly, and who was on the point" of being exe- 
 cuted. For his part, Don Pablo, half mad 
 with uneasiness, also insisted, in spite of 
 Valentine's entreaties and remarks, on en- 
 tering Santa Fe furtively, and trying to see 
 his father. 
 
 The night on which we found Valentine 
 in the clearing Unicorn visited him for the 
 first time in a mouth : he came to inform 
 him of the success of the measures he had 
 taken. Valentine, used to Indian habits, 
 understood half a word : hence he had not 
 hesitated to announce to Don Pablo as a 
 positive fact that his father would soon be 
 free. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE PRISON . 
 
 DON MIGUEL and General Ibanez had man- 
 aged to be confined together by the expend- 
 iture of many entreaties and a heavy sum 
 of gold. They inhabited two wretched 
 rooms, the entire furniture of which con- 
 sisted in a halting-table, a few leather-cover- 
 ed butaccas, and two benches which served 
 them as beds. These two men, so powerful 
 by nature, had endured without complaint 
 all the humiliation and insults inflicted on 
 them during their trial, resolved to die as 
 they had lived, with head erebt and firm 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 heart, without giving the judges who had 
 condemned them the satisfaction of seeing 
 them turn weak at the last moment. 
 
 It was toward the evening of the same day 
 on which we saw Valentine in the clearing. 
 Darkness fell rapidly, and the only window, 
 a species of narrow slit that served to light 
 the prison, allowed but a weak and dubious 
 light to penetrate. Don Miguel was walk- 
 ing with long strides up and down his prison, 
 while the General, carelessly reclining on 
 one of the benches, quietly smoked his cig- 
 arette, watching with childish pleasure the 
 clouds of bluish smoke which rose in a 
 spiral to the ceiling, and which he constant- 
 ly blew asunder. 
 
 "Well," Don Miguel said all at once, "it 
 seems it is not for to-day either." 
 
 "Yes," the General said, "unless (though 
 I do not believe it) they wish to do us the 
 honor of a torchlight execution." 
 
 " Can you at all account for this delay ?" 
 
 " On my honor, no. I have ransacked my 
 brains in vain to guess the reason that pre- 
 vents them shooting us, and I have given it 
 upas a bad job." 
 
 " Same with me. At first I fancied they 
 were trying to frighten us by the continued 
 apprehension of death constantly suspend- 
 ed over our heads like another sword of 
 Damocles ; but this idea seemed to me too 
 absurd." 
 
 " I am entirely of 'your opinion ; still 
 something extraordinary must be occurring." 
 
 " What makes you suppose that ?" 
 
 " Why, for the last two days our worthy 
 jailer, Tio Quesada, has become, not polite 
 to us (for that is impossible), but less bru- 
 tal. I notice that he has drawn in his claws, 
 and attempted a grin. It is true that his 
 1'ace is so little accustomed to assume that 
 expression, that the only result he obtains 
 is to make a wretched grimace." 
 
 " And you conclude from that?" 
 
 "Nothing positive," the General said. 
 "Still I ask myself whence comes this in- 
 comprehensible change. It would be as ab- 
 surd to attribute it to the pity he feels for 
 our position as to suppose that the Gov- 
 ernor will come to ask our pardon for having 
 tried and condemned us." 
 
 "Eh?" Don Miguel said with a toss of 
 his head. " All is not over we are not 
 dead yet." 
 
 "That is true; but keep your mind at 
 rest we shall be so, soon." 
 
 " Our life is in God's hands. He will dis- 
 pose of it at his pleasure." 
 
 "Amen!" the General said reverently, 
 as he rolled a fresh cigarette. 
 
 " Do you not consider it extraordinary 
 that, during the whole month we have been 
 confined here, our friends have not given a 
 sign of life?" 
 
 The General shrugged his shoulder* care- 
 lessly. 
 
 " Hum !" he said, "a prisoner is very *ick, 
 anfl our friends doubtless feared to mtrke us 
 
 worse by the sight of their grief: that is why 
 they have deprived themselves of the 
 pleasure of visiting us." 
 
 " Do not jest, General. You accuse them 
 wrongfully, I feel convinced." 
 
 "May Heaven grant it! For my part, I 
 heartily forgive them their indifference, and 
 the oblivion in which they have left us." 
 
 "I cau not believe that Don Valentine, 
 that true-hearted and noble minded man, 
 for whom I ever felt so deep a friendship, 
 has not tried to see me," 
 
 " Bah ! How, Don Miguel, can you, so 
 near death as you are, still believe in hon- 
 orable feelings in any man?" 
 
 At this moment there was a great clash of 
 iron outside, and the door of the room was 
 opened sufficiently to afford passage to the 
 jailer, who preceded another person. The 
 almost complete obscurity that prevailed in 
 the prison prevented the condemned men 
 from recognizing the visitor, who wore a 
 long black gown. 
 
 "Eh, eh!" the General muttered in his 
 comrade's ear, " I believe that General Ven- 
 tura, our amiable Governor, has at length 
 made up his mind." 
 
 " Why so ?" Don Miguel asked in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " He has sent us a priest, which means 
 that we shall be executed to-morrow." 
 
 "On my word, all the better," Don Mig- 
 uel couid not refrain from saying. 
 
 In the mean while the jailer, a short, thick- 
 set man, with a ferret-face and cunning eye, 
 had turned to the priest, whom he invited 
 to enter, saying in a hoarse voice : 
 
 "Here it is, senor padre: these are the 
 condemned persons." 
 
 "Will you leave us alone, my friend ?" 
 the stranger said. 
 
 " Will you have my lantern? It is get- 
 ting dark, and when people are talking they 
 like to see one another." 
 
 "Thanks; you can do so. You will open 
 when I call you by tapping at the door." 
 
 " All right I will do so ;" and he turned 
 to the condemned, to whom he said savage- 
 ly, " Well, senores, here is a priest. Take 
 advantage of his services now you have got 
 him. In your position there is no knowing 
 what may happen from one moment to 
 the other." 
 
 The prisoners shrugged their shoulders 
 contetnptuoiisly, but made no reply. The 
 jailer went out. When the sound of his 
 footsteps had died away in the distance, the 
 priest, who had till this moment stood with 
 his body bent forward and his ear on the 
 watch, drew himself up, and walked straight 
 to Don Miguel. This maneuver on the part 
 of the stranger surprised the two gentlemen, 
 who anxiously awaited what was about to 
 happen. The lantern left by the jailer only 
 spread a faint and flickering light, scarcely 
 sufficient to distinguish objects'. 
 
 "My father," the haciendero said in a 
 firm voice, "I thank the person who sent 
 
I7T REFUSED. 
 
 77 
 
 to prepare me for death, for I anxiously 
 bed to fulfill my duties as a Christian be- 
 re being executed. If you will proceed 
 ith me into the adjoining room I will con- 
 s my sins to you : they are those which 
 n honest man ordinarily commits : for my 
 oart is pure, and I have nothing to re- 
 roach myself with." 
 
 The priest took off his hat, seized the 
 lantern, and placed it near his pale face, 
 whose noble an! gentle features were sud- 
 denly displayed in the light. 
 
 " Father Seraph in !" the prisoners exclaim- 
 ed with a surprise mingled with joy. 
 
 "Silence!" the priest ordered quickly. 
 "Do not pronounce my name so loudly, 
 brothers : every one is ignorant of my be- 
 ing here except the jailer, who is my confi- 
 dant." 
 
 "He!" Don Miguel said with stupor; 
 " the man who has been insulting and hu- 
 miliating us during a month !" 
 
 " That man is henceforth ours. Lose no 
 time, come. I have secure means to get you 
 out of prison, and to leave the town ere 
 our evasion can be even suspected: the 
 orses are prepared an escort is awaiting 
 ou. Come, gentlemen, for the moments are 
 
 ous." 
 
 The two prisoners interchanged a glance 
 ' sublime eloquence ; then General Ibanez 
 quietly seated himself on a butacca, while 
 Don Miguel replied ; 
 
 "Thanks, my father. You have undertaken 
 e noble task of soothing all sorrow, and 
 m do not wish to fail in your duty. Thanks 
 r the offer you make us, which vve can not, 
 wever, accept. Men like us must not 
 ve our enemies right by flying like crirn- 
 nals. We fought for a sacred principle, 
 and succumbed. We owe it to our country- 
 men and to ourselves to endure death brave- 
 When we conspired we were perfectly 
 ell aware of what awaited us if we were 
 nquered. Once again, thanks: but we 
 11 only quit this prison as free men, or to 
 ilk to punishment." 
 
 " I have not the courage, gentlemen, to 
 lame your heroic resolution : in a similar 
 e I should act as you are doing. You 
 ve a very slight hope still left, so wait, 
 'erchance, within a few hours, unforeseen 
 events will occur to change the face of mat- 
 ters." 
 
 " We hope for nothing more, my father." 
 " That word is a blasphemy in your mouth, 
 Don Miguel. God can do all" he wills. Hope, 
 I tell you." 
 
 " I am wrong, father : forgive me." 
 " Hola!" the jailer shouted through the 
 door. " Make haste ; it is getting late. 
 It will soon be impossible to leave the city." 
 " Open the door," the missionary said,' in 
 a firm voice. The jailer appeared. * 
 "Well?" he asked. 
 
 Light me and lead me out of the prison. 
 c%balloro.3 refuse to profit by the 
 of safety I carao to offer them. 
 
 The jailer shook hia head and shrugged 
 his shoulders. 
 "They are mad," he said. 
 And he went out, followed by the priest. " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE EMBASSY. 
 
 ON the selfsame day that Father Sera- 
 phin went to the prison to propose an es- 
 cape to the condemned, a very strange cir- 
 cumstance had aroused the entire popula- 
 tion of Santa F. At about mid-day, at the 
 moment when the inhabitants were enjoy- 
 ing their siesta, and the streets, calcined by 
 the beams of a tropical sun, were complete- 
 ly deserted, a formidable hurrah, the ter- 
 rible war-yell of the Coinanche Indians, burst 
 forth at the entrance of the town. 
 
 A detachment of dismounted warriors, 
 about two hundred strong, was marching 
 in close column, flanked on either wing by 
 two troops, each of fifty horse. About 
 twenty paces in front caracoled Unicorn. 
 
 The Coinanches did not appear to notice 
 the excitement they created. As soon aB 
 they were on the Plaza Mayor they halted, 
 and remained motionless, as if their feet had 
 suddenly grown to the ground. Unicorn 
 made a sign with his talisman : a warrior 
 quitted the ranks, and rode up to the sentry 
 standing in front of the Governor's palace, 
 who regarded the singular scene with a 
 dazed air. 
 
 " Wah !" the Indian said, sarcastically, 
 as he lightly touched the soldier with the 
 end of his lance. " Is niy brother asleep, 
 that he does not hear a warrior addressing 
 him?" 
 
 " I am not asleep," the soldier answered, 
 as he fell back a pace. "What do you 
 want?" 
 
 " Is my brother a chief ?" 
 
 "No," the soldier answered, greatlj' con- 
 fused by this lesson. 
 
 While the Comauche warrior was exchan- 
 ging these few words with the sentry, sev- 
 eral persons, came out of the palace attracted 
 by the unusual disturbance. Among them 
 were several officers, one of whom advanced 
 to the Indian horseman. 
 
 " What docs my brother want ?" he asked 
 him. 
 
 The warrior saw at the first glance that 
 this time he had to do with a chief. Ho 
 bowed courteously, and answered : 
 
 "A deputation of the great Coinanche na- 
 tion desires to be introduced to my great 
 white father." 
 
 " Good ! But all the warriors can not en- 
 ter the palace," the officer said. 
 
 "My brother is right. Their chiefs alone 
 will go in: their young men will await them 
 here/' 
 
 "Let my brother be patient J will * 
 and deliver his message in all 
 
78 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 "Good! My brother is a chief. The 
 Spider will await him." 
 
 The officer disappeared iu the interior, 
 while the Spider planted the end of his long 
 lance in the ground, and remained with his 
 eye fixed on the gate of the palace, not 
 evincing the slightest impatience. 
 
 The New Governor of Santa 6 was a 
 General of the name of Don Benito Ventu- 
 ra. He was ignorant as a fish, stupid and 
 haughty as a heatheock. 
 
 lie had learned with the utmost terror 
 the entrance of the Comanches into the 
 town, and when the officer intrusted with 
 Spider's message presented himself before 
 him he had literally lost his head. It took 
 all possible trouble to make him compre- 
 hend that the Indians came as friends. AVhen 
 at length he saw himself surrounded and 
 supported by the officers of his staff his 
 terror was slightly toned down ; and being 
 finally convinced by their arguments, he 
 gave in e officer who brought the message 
 orders to bring the three principal Indian 
 chiefs into the palace. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE PRESENTATION. 
 
 THE officer dispatched by General Ventu- 
 ra had performed his duty. Unicorn and 
 two other chiefs dismounted, and followed 
 him into the palace. There thirty officers, 
 attired in their splendid uniforms, that 
 glistened with gold and decorations, were 
 arranged round the General, while three 
 posts of ten men each held the doors of the 
 hall of reception. 
 
 When the preparations were completed 
 the embassadors were introduced. The In- 
 dian chiefs, accustomed for a long period to 
 Spanish luxury, entered without testifying 
 the slightest surprise. They bowed with 
 dignity to the assembly, and, crossing their 
 arms on their chests, waited till they were 
 addressed by the General. 
 
 " What reason can have been so powerful 
 as to oblige my sons to come and see me ?" 
 he asked, m a gracious and conciliating tone. 
 "Let them make their request, and, if I 
 can do so, I shall be most ready to satisfy 
 
 This opening, which the Governor fancied 
 to be very politic, was, on the contrary, 
 most awkward, as it offended the pride of 
 those he addressed, and whom he had the 
 greatest interest in humoring. Unicorn 
 took a step forward. A sarcastic smile play- 
 ed on his lips, and he replied in a voice 
 slightly tinged with irony : 
 
 44 The Comanches do not come here to ask 
 a favor. They know how to avenge them- 
 selves when insulted." 
 
 " What do my sons want, then ?" 
 
 " To treat with my father for the ransom 
 of the white chiefs who are in their power. 
 
 Five pale-faces inhabit the cabin of the Co 
 manches. The young men of the tribe de- 
 mand their punishment, for the blood of 
 the pale-faces if- Agreeable to the Master ol 
 Life* To-morrow the prisoners will have 
 ceased to live if my father does not buy them 
 off to-day. What does my father say? 
 Shall we fasten our prisoners to the stake 
 of blood, or restore them to liberty'?" 
 
 " What ransom do you ask?" the General 
 said. 
 
 " Listen, all you chiefs of the pale-faces 
 here present, and judge of the clemency 
 and generosity of the Comanches. We on- 
 ly wish, for the life of these five men, the 
 life of two men." 
 
 44 That is little, I allow," the General re- 
 marked ; " and who are the two men whose 
 lives you ask?" 
 
 44 The pale-faces call them, the first, Don 
 Miguel Zarate ; the second, General Ibanez." 
 
 The General started, 
 
 " Those two men can not be delivered to 
 you," he answered; "they are condemned 
 to death, and will die to-morrow." 
 
 44 Good! My prisoners will be tortured 
 this night," the chief replied, stoically. 
 
 "Confound it!" the General sharply ex- 
 claimed, "is there no other arrangement 
 possible ? Let my brothers ask me a thing 
 I can grant them, and " 
 
 " Enough ! We will retire," Unicorn said, 
 haughtily. " Longer discourse is needless: 
 our deeds shall speak for us." 
 
 44 A moment!" the General exclaimed. 
 "All may be yet arranged. An affair like 
 the present can not be settled all in a hur- 
 ry : we must reflect on the propositions made 
 to us. My son is a chief, and will grant us 
 reasonable time to offer him a reply." 
 
 Unicorn bent a suspicious glance on the 
 Governor. 
 
 44 My father has spoken wisely," he pres- 
 ently made answer. " To-morrow, at the 
 twelfth hour, I will come for the final an- 
 swer of the pale-faces. But my father will 
 promise to me not to order the punishment 
 of the prisoners till, he has told me the de- 
 cision he has come to." 
 
 44 Be it so," the General answered. " But 
 what will the Comanches do till then ?" 
 
 44 They will leave the town as they entered 
 it, and bivouac on the plain." 
 
 44 Agreed on." 
 
 44 The Master of Life has heard my fath- 
 e^r's promise, If he breaks his word, and 
 possesses a forked tongue, the blood shed 
 will fall on his head." 
 
 The Comanche uttered these words with 
 a significant tone that made the General 
 tremble inwardly; then lie bowed to the as- 
 sembly, and left the hall with his compan- 
 ions. It was after this interview that Uni- 
 corn had the conversation with Valentine 
 which we recently described. 
 
 Still, when the Mexican officers were alone 
 with the .General, their courage returned all 
 at once, and they reproached him for the 
 
SIGHING LIKE FURNACE. 
 
 
 little dignity he had displayed before the In- 
 dians, and specially for the promise he had 
 made them. 
 
 " The promise you allude to pledges tne 
 to nothing. Between this and to-morrow 
 certain things will happen to free us from 
 the Comanches, and enable us to dispense 
 with surrendering the prisoners they demand 
 so insolently." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 BROTHER AND SISTER. 
 
 ABOUT half a league west of Santa Fe three 
 men and a woman were seated behind a 
 dense clump of trees, which sheltered while 
 rendering them unseen, over a brushwood 
 fire, supping with good appetite, and chat- 
 ting together. The three men were Red 
 Cedar's sons; the female was Ellen. 
 
 "Hum!" Sutter said, "what can keep 
 father so long ? He told us that he should 
 be back by four o'clock at the latest; but 
 the sun is just disappearing oil the horizon, 
 and he has not come yet." 
 
 "I care very little," Sutter brusquely re- 
 
 Flicd, "whether father is here or not; but 
 believe we should do well not to wait long- 
 er, but return to the camp, where our pres- 
 ence is doubtless necessary." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Our comrades can do with- 
 out us," Shaw observed. "If father has 
 not returned by sunrise, we will go back to 
 camp. Harry and Dick can keep good order 
 till our return." 
 
 " Let us stay, then," Sutter remarked. 
 "We shall only have to keep the fire up, 
 and one of its will watch while the others 
 sleep." 
 
 The three brothers rose. Sutter and 
 Nathan collected a pile of dry wood to main- 
 tain the fire, while Shaw intertwined a few 
 branches to make his sister a sufficient shel- 
 ter for the night. The two elder brothers 
 thrust their feet toward the fire, wrapped 
 themselves in their blankets, and went to 
 sleep, after advising Shaw to keep a bright 
 look-out. Shaw, after stirring up the fire, 
 threw himself at the foot ot a large tree, 
 and letting his head sink on his chest, plung- 
 ed into deep and painful meditation. 
 
 His sister Ellen was the only member of 
 his family for whom he experienced sym- 
 pathy ; and yet it was only with extreme 
 reserve that he intrusted his boyish secrets 
 to her secrets which, during the last few 
 days, had acquired an importance he did not 
 himself suspect, but which his sister, with 
 the innate intelligence of woman, had already 
 divined. 
 
 Shaw, as we have said, was thinking. 
 He was dreaming of Clara. Ho loved her, 
 as he was capable of loving, with that pas- 
 sionate impetuosity, that violence of feeling, 
 to which his uncultivated mind adapted him. 
 The sight of the maiden caused him a strange 
 trouble, which he id not attempt to ac- 
 
 count for. He did not try to analyze hid 
 feelings, for that Would have been impossi- 
 ble ; and yet at times he was a prey to cold 
 and terrible fury, when thinking that the 
 haughty maiden, who was even unconscious 
 of his existence, would probably only spurii 
 and despise him if she knew it. He was 
 yielding to these crushing thoughts, wheu 
 he suddenly felt a hand laid on his shoulder. 
 On turning, Ellen stood before him, up- 
 right and motionless, like the white appa- 
 ritions of the German legends. He raised 
 his head, and bent an inquiring glance on 
 his sister. 
 
 " What is the matter, Ellen?" 
 
 " Can ymi not guess ?" 
 
 " I do not understand you." 
 
 "On the contrary, yon understand me too 
 well, Shaw," she said, with a sigh. " Your 
 heart rejoices at this moment at the misfor- 
 tune of the woman you should defend." 
 
 " What can I do ?" he murmured, faintly ; 
 " the person of whom you speak is father's 
 prisoner. I can not contend agams^t him." 
 
 Ellen smiled, contemptuously. 
 
 " You seek in vain to hide your thoughts 
 from me," she said. " I read your heart as 
 an open book : your sorrow is feigned, and 
 you really rejoice at the thought that in fu- 
 ture you will constantly be by Clara's side." 
 
 "Tl" he exclaimed, with an angry start. 
 
 " Yes, you only see in her captivity a 
 means to approach her. Your selfish heart 
 is secretly gladdened by that hope." 
 
 "You are harsh to me, sister. Heaven 
 is my witness that, were it possible, I would 
 at once restore her the liberty torn from 
 her." 
 
 " You can if you like." 
 
 " No, it is impossible. My father watch- 
 es too closely over his prisoner." 
 
 " He will not distrust you, but allow you 
 to approach her freely." 
 
 "But how save her?" 
 
 "That is your affair, Shaw." 
 
 "But father?" Shaw said, hesitatingly. 
 
 "He will not know your movements. I 
 take on myself to prevent him noticing 
 them." 
 
 "Good 1 ." the young man remarked, half- 
 convinced: " but I do not know where the 
 maiden is hidden." 
 
 " I will tell you ; Clara is confined at the 
 Rancho del Coyote : she was intrusted to 
 Andres Garote." 
 
 " Ah, ah 1" the young man said, as if speak- 
 ing to himself, "I did not fancy her so near 
 us." 
 
 "Good!" the maiden remarked. "Lose 
 no time : my father's absence alarms me. 
 Perhaps at this moment he is preparing a 
 safer hiding-place for his prisoner." 
 
 " But who will keep watch while my broth- 
 ers sleep ?" 
 
 " I will," the maiden answered, resolutely. 
 
 " Whence arises the interest you feel in 
 this woman, sister, as you do not know 
 her ?" the young man asked, in surprise. 
 
THE TJfrU-HUNTElt. 
 
 " She is a woman, and unhappy. Are not 
 those reasons sufficient ?" 
 
 "Perhaps so," Shaw remarked doubtfully. 
 
 And rising; hurriedly, he kissed his sister, 
 threw his rilie over his shoulder, and ran off 
 in the direction of Santa Fe. When he had 
 disappeared in the gloom, and the sound of 
 his footsteps had died out in the distance, 
 the girl fell on the ground, muttering in a 
 low, sad voice : 
 
 "Will he succeed?" 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVlf 
 
 DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 
 
 RED CEDAK did not remain long under the 
 effect of the startling insult he had received. 
 Pride, wrath, and, before all, the desire to 
 avenge himself, restored his strength, and a 
 few minutes after Don Pablo Zarate's de- 
 parture the squatter had regained all his 
 coolness and audacity. 
 
 " You see, senor padre," he said, address- 
 ing the monk, " that our little plans are 
 known to our enemies : we must, therefore, 
 make haste if we do not wish to see persons 
 break in here, from whom it is of the ut- 
 most importance to conceal ourselves. To- 
 morrow night at the latest, perhaps before, 
 we shall start. Do not stir from here till my 
 return. Your face is too well known at 
 Santa F6 for you to venture to show it in 
 the streets without imprudence." 
 
 "Hum!" the monk muttered, "that de- 
 mon, whom I fancied dead, is a rude adver- 
 sary. Fortunately we shall soon have nothing 
 more to fear from his father, for I hardly 
 know how we should get out of it." 
 
 " If the son has escaped us," Red Cedar 
 said with an ugly smile, " that is fortunately 
 not the case with the father. Don't be 
 alarmed : Don Miguel will cause us no fur- 
 ther embarrassment." 
 
 " I wish it most earnestly, for he is a de- 
 termined man ; but I confess to you that I 
 shall not be entirely at my ease till I have 
 seen him fall beneath the bullets of the sol- 
 diers." 
 
 " You will not have long to wait. General 
 Ventura has ordered me to go and meet the 
 regiment of dragoons he expects, in order 
 to hurry them on, and bring them into the 
 town this very night, if possible. So soon 
 as the Governor has an imposing force at his 
 disposal he will no longer fear a revolt on 
 the part of the troops, and give the order 
 for execution without delay." 
 
 "May heaven grant it! But," he added 
 with a sigh of regret, "what a pity that 
 most of our scamps deserted us ! We should 
 have almost arrived at the place by this time, 
 and been safe from the vengeance of our 
 enemies." 
 
 " Patience, senor padre : all is for the best, 
 perhaps. Trust to me. Andres, my horse." 
 ' " You will start at once, then ?" 
 
 " Yes. I recommend yon to watch care- 
 fully over our prisoner." 
 
 The monk shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Our affairs are tolerably well embarrassed 
 already ; then why burden ourselves with a 
 woman ?" 
 
 The squatter frowned. 
 
 " That is my business," he exclaimed in a 
 peremptory tone. "Keep all stupid obser- 
 vations to yourself. A thousand devils ! I 
 know what I am about. That woman will 
 possibly prove our safeguard at a later 
 date." 
 
 And mounting his horse, Red Cedar gal- 
 loped out of Santa Fe\ 
 
 "Hum !" Andres Garote said, as he watch- 
 ed him depart, "what a diabolical eye! 
 Though I have known him several years, I 
 never saw him like that before. How will 
 all this end ?" 
 
 Without further remarks he arranged mat- 
 ters in the rancho, repairing as well as lie 
 could the disorder caused by the previous 
 struggle ; then he took a look round him. 
 The monk sat with his elbows on the table, 
 and a cigarette in his mouth. 
 
 " Why, senor padre," the ranchero said in 
 an insinuating voice, "do you know that it 
 is hardly five '6' clock?" 
 
 "Do you think so?" the other answered 
 for the sake of saying something. 
 
 "Does not the time seem to you to go 
 very slowly ?" 
 
 "Extraordinarily so." 
 
 "If you liked we could easily shorten it 
 these." 
 
 And Andres drew from his boot a pack of 
 greasy cards, which he complacently spread 
 out on the table. 
 
 "Ah! that is a good idea," the monk ex- 
 claimed with sparkling eyes. " Let us have 
 a game of monte". If you permit me 1 will 
 make you a proposal." 
 
 "Do so, senor. 
 
 "This it is : we will play, if you like, for 
 the share of the gold we shall receive when 
 we reach the placer." 
 
 " Done !" the ranchero shouted enthusias- 
 tically. 
 
 "Well," the monk said, drawing from hi-s 
 pocket a pack of cards no less dirty than the 
 others, " we can at any rate kill time." 
 
 "What! you have cards too?" the ran- 
 chero remarked. 
 
 "Yes, and quite new, as you see." 
 
 Andres bowed with an air of conviction. 
 
 The game began at once, and soon the two 
 men were completely absorbed. 
 
 Although Garote was a passed master in 
 trickery, and displayed all his science, he 
 found in the monk so skillful an adversary 
 that, after more than three h: jirs of an ob- 
 stinate struggle, they both found themselves 
 as little advanced as at the outset. The 
 monk, however, on coming to the rancho, 
 had an object which Red Cedar was far 
 from suspecting. 
 
 Fray Ambrosio rested his arms on the 
 
MUTUAL DECEIT. 
 
 *, 
 
 fortu 
 
 table, bent his body slightly forward, and 
 while carelessly playing with the cards, 
 which he amused himself by sorting, he said 
 to his companion, as he fixed a scrutinizing 
 glance upon him : 
 
 " Shall we talk a little, Andres ?" 
 "Willingly," the latter replied, who had 
 partly risen, but now fell back on his chair. 
 " Seuor Don Andres," continued the monk, 
 in an insinuating voice, " what a happiness 
 that your poor brother, on dying, revealed 
 to me the secret of the rich placer, which 
 he concealed even from yourself !" 
 
 It is true," Andres answered, turning 
 
 Jtly pale ; " it was very fortunate. For 
 >art, I congratulate myself on it daily." 
 s it not so ? for without it the immense 
 me would have been lost to you and all 
 else." 
 
 "It is terrible to think of." 
 
 " Well, at this moment I have a horrible 
 fear." 
 
 "What is it, father?" 
 
 "That we have deferred our departure 
 too long, and that some of those European 
 vagabonds we were speaking of just now 
 may have discovered our placer. Those 
 bcouuclrels have a peculiar scent for finding 
 gold." 
 
 " Father !" Andres said, striking the table 
 with feigned grief (for he knew well what 
 the monk was saying was only a cleve^ way 
 of attaining his real point,) " that would 
 drive me mad an affair so well managed 
 hitherto." 
 
 "That is true," Fray Ambrosio said in 
 corroboration. "I could never console my- 
 self." 
 
 " I have as great an interest in it as your- 
 self, father," the gold-seeker replied, with 
 coolness. 
 
 Andres Garote was a man of unequaled 
 bravery, gifted with a fertile and ready mind, 
 whom the accidents of life had compelled 
 to live for a lengthened period on the prai- 
 ries, whose paths he knew as thoroughly 
 as he did the tricks of those w,ho dwelt on 
 them. Hence, and for many other reasons, 
 Andres Garote was an invaluable comrade 
 for Fray Ambrosio. 
 
 "However," said the monk, after an in- 
 stant's reflection, "supposing that the pla- 
 cer is intact, and that no one has discovered 
 it, we shall have along journey to reach it." 
 
 "Yes," the ranchero remarked, signifi- 
 cantly ; " the road is difficult and broadcast 
 with perils innumerable." 
 
 "We must march with our chins on our 
 shoulders, and fingers on the rifle-trigger." 
 
 "Fig^ht nearly constantly with wild beasts 
 or Indians" 
 
 "In a word, do you not belie.ve that the 
 woman Red Cedar has carried off will prove 
 a horrid bore?" 
 
 "Dreadfully so," Andres answered. 
 
 "Is she here?" 
 
 u Yes," the gold-seeker eaid, pointing to 
 a door ; " in that room." 
 
 " Suppose we restore her to her family ?" 
 
 " And they pay a proper ransom. " 
 
 " That is what I meant to say." 
 
 There was a silence. 
 
 " But who is to undertake this delic 
 mission?" asked the monk. 
 
 "I," the ranchero exclaimed, his < 
 sparkling with greed at the thought of 
 rich ransom he would demand. 
 
 "But if Red Cedar were to find out,' 
 the monk remarked, " that we had sui 
 dered his prisoner?" 
 Who will tell him?" 
 I am sure I shan't." 
 'Nor I." 
 
 It is very easy; the girl will have es- 
 caped." 
 
 Quite true." 
 
 ' Do not let us lose time, then. 
 
 ' Don Pablo will be delighted to recover 
 his sister, whom he expected never to see 
 again, and will not haggle over the price he 
 pays for her deliverance." 
 
 Andres Garote rose with a smile which 
 would have caused the monk to reflect, hud 
 he seen it ; but at the same moment the latter 
 was rubbing his hands, saying in a low voice, 
 and with a most satisfied air : 
 
 " Now, my scamp, I've got you." 
 
 What secret thought possessed these two 
 in on,- who were carrying on a mutual deceit, 
 none save themselves could have said. The 
 gold-seeker approached the door of the 
 room where Clara was confined, and put the 
 key in the lock. At this moment two vigor- 
 ous blows were dealt on the outer door, 
 which had been carefully bolted. The two 
 accomplices started. 
 
 " Must I open?" Andres asked. 
 
 "Yes," the monk answered; "hesitation 
 or refusal might create alarm." 
 
 Andres went to open the door, which the 
 new-comer threatened to break in. A man 
 walked in, who took a careful glance around, 
 then doffed his hat, and bowed. The con- 
 federates exchanged a glance of vexation on 
 recognizing him, for he was no other than 
 Shaw, Red Cedar's youngest son. 
 
 "I am afraid I disturb you, gentlemen," 
 the young man said, with an ironical smile. 
 
 "Not at all," Andres made answer; "on 
 the contrary, we are delighted to see you." 
 
 "Thanks!" 
 
 And the young man fell back into a chair. 
 
 "You are very late at Santa F," the monk 
 remarked. 
 
 "It is true," Shaw said, with some em- 
 barrassment ; " I am looking for my father, 
 and fancied I should find him here." 
 
 "He was so a few hours back, but was 
 obliged to leave us." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 The monk and the miner did not at all 
 understand Shaw's conduct, and lost them- 
 selves in conjectures as to the reasons that 
 brought him to town. They guessed in- 
 stinctively that what he said about his 
 father was only a pretext or means of intro- 
 
THE TEAIL-UUNTEK. 
 
 ductiou ; aud that a powerful motive, lie 
 would not or dare not avow, had brought 
 him. For his part, the young man, in com- 
 ing where he knew that Clara was impris- 
 oifed, expected to find Andres alone, with 
 whom he hoped to come to an understand- 
 ing iu some way or another. The presence 
 of the monk disturbed all his plans. Still, 
 time was slipping away; he must make up 
 his mind, and, before all, profit by Red Ce- 
 dar's providential absence, which offered 
 him an opportunity he could hardly dare to 
 hope again. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 A STORMY DISCUSSION. 
 
 SHAW was not timid, as we have said he 
 ought rather to be accused of the opposite 
 excess ; he was not the man, once his.resolu- 
 tion was formed, lo let any thing soever turn 
 him from it. His hesitation was not long ; 
 he suddenly rose, and violently stamping his 
 rifle-butt on the ground, looked at the two 
 men, while saying in a firm voice : 
 
 "Be frank ; my presence here at this hour 
 astonishes you, and you ask yourselves what 
 cause can "have brought me. I will tell 
 you: I have come to deliver Dona Clara." 
 
 " What do I hear ?" said Fray Ambrosio. 
 
 "Hum!" the young man conflfhued, 
 quickly, "believe me, do not attempt any 
 useless resistance, for I have resolved, if 
 needs must, to pass over your bodies to suc- 
 cess." 
 
 "Pardon me," the monk interrupted,. 
 " such a determination on your part natural- 
 ly surprises us." 
 
 " Why so ?" the young man said, raising 
 his head haughtily. 
 
 "Because," Fray Ambrosio answered, 
 tranquilly, " you arc the son of Red Cedar, 
 and it is at least strange that " 
 
 "Enough talking," ^Shaw exclaimed, vio- 
 lently ; " will yon or not give up her I have 
 come to seek?" 
 
 "I must know, in the first place, what 
 you intend doing with her." 
 
 " How does that concern you?" 
 
 "More than you imagine. Since that 
 girl has been a prisoner I constituted my- 
 selfif not her guardian, for the dress I 
 wear forbids that her defender; in that 
 quality I have the right of knowing for what 
 reason you, the son of the man who tore her 
 from her family, have come so audaciously 
 to demand her surrender to you, and what 
 your object is in acting thus ?" 
 
 The young man had listened to these re- 
 marks with an impatience that became mo- 
 mentarily more visible ; it could be seen 
 That he made superhuman efforts to restrain 
 himself. When the monk stopped, he looked 
 at him for a moment with a strange expres- 
 sion, then walked up so close as almost to 
 touch him, drew a pair of pistols from his 
 girdle and pointed them at the monk. 
 
 " Surrender Clara to me," he said, in alow 
 and menacing voice. 
 
 Fray Ambrosio had attentively followed 
 all the squatter's movements, and when the 
 latter put the pistol-muzzles to his chest, the 
 monk, with an action rapid as lightning, also 
 drew two pistols from his girdle, and placed 
 them on his adversary's chest. There was a 
 moment of supreme expectation, of inde- 
 scribable agony ; the two men were motion- 
 less, face to face, panting, each with his 
 fingers on a trigger, pale, and their brows 
 dank with cold perspiration. Andres Ga- 
 rote, his lips curled by an ironical smile, 
 and his arms crossed, carelessly leaned 
 against a table, watching this scene which 
 had for him all the attraction of a play. 
 
 All at once the door of the rancho" which 
 had not been fastened again after the squat- 
 ter's entry, was violently thrown back and 
 a man appeared ; it was Father Seraphin. 
 At a glance he judged the position and bold- 
 ly threw himself between the foemen, hurl- 
 ing them back, but not uttering a word. 
 The two men recoiled, and lowered their 
 weapons, but continued to menace each oth- 
 er with their glances. 
 
 "What!" the missionary said, in a deep 
 voice, "have I arrived just in time to pre- 
 vent a double murder, gentlemen? In 
 heaven's ruime, hide those homicidal weap- 
 ons ; do not stand opposite each other like 
 wild beasts preparing for a leap." 
 
 I wish to save a young girl from his 
 hands," Shaw said, " and restore her to her 
 father." 
 
 " Of whom are you speaking, my Mend ?" 
 the missionary asked, with a secret beating 
 of his heart. 
 
 " Of whom should I speak, save Dona 
 Clara Zarate, whom these villains retain 
 here by force ?" 
 
 "Can it be possible?" Father Seraphiu 
 exclaimed, in amazement. " Clara here?" 
 
 "Ask those men," Shaw answered, rough- 
 ly, as he angrily struck the butt of his rifle 
 against the ground. 
 
 "Is it true?" the priest inquired. 
 
 " It is," the gold-seeker answered. 
 
 Father Seraphiu frowned, and his pale 
 forehead flushed. 
 
 "Sir," he said, in a voice choking with in- 
 dignation, "I summon you, in the name of 
 that God whom you serve, and whose min- 
 ister you lay claim to being, to restore at 
 once to liberty the hapless girl whom you 
 have so unworthily imprisoned, in defiance 
 of all laws, human and divine. I engage to 
 deliver her into the hands of those who 
 bewail her loss." 
 
 Fray Ambrosio bowed; he let his eyes 
 fall, and said, in a hypocritical voice: 
 
 " Fathev, you are mistaken as regards my- 
 self. I had nothing to do with the carrying 
 off of that poor child,which, on the contrary, 
 I opposed to the utmost of my power ; and 
 that is so true, father," he added, "that at 
 the moment when this young madnian ar- 
 
THOSE PAPERS. 
 
 the \\ orthy miner and myself had re- 
 solved, at all risks, on restoring her to her 
 
 family." 
 
 "I should wish to believe you, sir ; if I 
 am mistaken, as you say, you will forgive 
 me, for appearances were against you ; it on- 
 ly depends on yourself to produce a perfect 
 justification, by carrying out my wishes." 
 
 "You shall be satisfied, father," the monk 
 replied. At a signal from him Garote left 
 the room. During the few words inter- 
 changed between the two men, Shaw remain- 
 ed motionless, hesitating, not knowing what 
 he ought to do ; but he suddenly made up 
 his mind, threw his rifle over his shoulder, 
 und turned to the missionary. 
 
 "Father," he said, respectfully, "my 
 presence is now needless here. Farewell ; 
 my departure will prove to you the purity 
 of my intentions." 
 
 And turning suddenly on his heel, he Imr- 
 ried out of the rancho. A few moments 
 after his departure the gold-seeker returned, 
 Clara following him. 
 
 She no longer wore the dress of the whites, 
 for Red Cedar, in order to render her un- 
 recognizable, had compelled her to don the 
 Indian garb, which the maiden wore with 
 an innate grace that hightened its strange 
 elegance. On seeing the missionary, Clara 
 uttered a cry of joy, and rushing toward 
 him, fell into his arms, and murmured in a 
 heartrending voice : 
 
 "Father! save me! save me!" 
 
 " Be calm, my daughter I" the priest said 
 to her, gently. " You have nothing more 
 to fear, now that I am near you." 
 
 " You see, father," Fray Ambrosio said, 
 hypocritically, "that I did not deceive 
 you." 
 
 The missionary cast at the monk a glance 
 of undefinable meaning. 
 
 "I trust that you spoke truly," he re- 
 plied; "the God who gauges hearts will 
 judge you according to works. 
 
 And picking up a cloak, he placed it deli- 
 cately on the shuddering shoulders of Clara, 
 in order to conceal her Indian garb. Father 
 Seraphm drew her arm through his own, 
 and led her from the rancho. Ere long they 
 disappeared in the darkness. Fray Ambro- 
 sio looked after them as long as he could 
 see them, and then re-entered the room, 
 carefully bolting the door after him. 
 
 "Well," Andres Garote asked him, 
 " what do you think of all that has hap- 
 pened?" 
 
 " Perhaps things are better as they are." 
 
 " And Red Cedar ?" 
 
 " I undertake to render ourselves as white 
 in his sight as snow." 
 
 "Hum! it will be difficult." 
 
 "Perhaps so." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIH. 
 
 THE MTSTEBT. 
 
 ON leaving the Rancho del Coyote, Red 
 Cedar dug his spurs into his horse's flanks, 
 and galloped iu a south-western direction. 
 So soon as he was out of the town he turned 
 to the left, took a narrow path that ran round 
 the walls, pulled up his horse, and advanced 
 with the utmost caution. Throwing suspi- 
 cious glances on either side, he went on thus 
 for about three-quarters of an hour, when 
 he reached a house, in one of the windows 
 of which burned three wax-tapers. 
 
 The lights thus arranged were evidently a 
 signal for the squatter, for soon as he came 
 to the house he stopped and dismounted, 
 attached his horse to a larch-tree, and pru- 
 dently concealing himself behind a thicket, 
 imitated thrice at equal intervals the hu-hu 
 of an owl. The lights burning in the win- 
 dow were extinguished, as if by enchant- 
 ment. 
 
 At this moment a voice could be heard 
 from the house which Red Cedar was watch- 
 ing so carefully. Tiie squatter listened ; the 
 speaker leaned for a second out of the win- 
 dow, looked cautiously round, and disap- 
 peared muttering loud enough for the squat- 
 ter to overhear: 
 
 "You can come on, for you are expec- 
 ted." 
 
 "I know it; hence here I am."- 
 
 While making this answer, Red Cedar 
 left his hiding-place, and placed himself be- 
 fore the door with folded arms, like a man 
 who has nothing to fear. The door was cau- 
 tiously opened ; a man emerged, carefully 
 wrapped up in a wide cloak, which only al- 
 lowed eyes to be seen, that flashed in the 
 gloom like a jackal's. This person walked 
 straight up to Red Cedar. 
 
 " Well," he asked, in a low voice, "have 
 vou reflected?" 
 " "Yes." 
 
 " And what is the result of your reflec- 
 tions? 1 ' 
 
 "I refuse." 
 
 "Take care." 
 
 "I do not care, Don Melchior, for I am 
 not afraid of you." 
 
 " No names !" the stranger exclaimed, 
 impatiently. 
 
 "We are alone." 
 
 "No one is ever alone in the desert." 
 
 "That is true," Red Cedar muttered. 
 
 " Listen," the stranger said, in a low, cut- 
 ting voice. "I will lose no more of my 
 time. Hand Dona Clara over to me, and 1 
 will <nve you the papers which " 
 
 "Enough!" the squatter said, sharply. 
 " Have you those papers about you ?" 
 
 " No, I have not. I am not such a fool 
 as to risk assassination at your hands." 
 
 " What would your death profit me ?" 
 
 " Hang it all, if it were only my scalp you 
 would be sure to receive at least fifty dollars 
 for it," 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 At this mournful jest the squatter began 
 
 "I did not think of that," he said. "Hang 
 it, though, what can be your motive for 
 wishing to have this girl in your power?" 
 
 " That is no affair of yours. I have no ex- 
 planations due to you. Enough for you to 
 know that I want her." 
 
 " You shall not have her." 
 
 " We shall see. Good-by, Red Cedar." 
 
 " Good-by, Don Melchior, or whatever be 
 the name you please to bear." 
 
 The stranger made no reply, but turned 
 his head with a gesture of contempt, and 
 whistled. A man emerged from the house, 
 holding a horse by the bridle; at one bound 
 the stranger reached the saddle, and order- 
 ed the servant to withdraw. 
 
 "Farewell, Compadrc, remember our ap- 
 pointment." 
 
 And loosing his reins, the stranger started 
 at a gallop, not condescending even to turn 
 his head. Red Cedar looked after him with 
 an indescribable expression of rage. 
 
 U 0h," he muttered, in a low voice, "de- 
 mon ! shall I never free myself from your 
 clutches?" 
 
 And with a motion rapid as thought he 
 shouldered his rifle, and aimed at the de- 
 parting man. All at once the latter turned 
 his horse, and stood right opposite Red Ce- 
 dar. 
 
 " Mind not to miss me !" he cried, with a 
 burst of laughter, that caused a cold perspi- 
 ration to bead on the bandit's forehead. 
 
 The latter let his rifle fall, saying, in a 
 hollow voice : 
 
 " He is right, and I am mad ! If I only 
 luul the papers !" 
 
 The stranger waited for a moment, calm 
 ;'.ud motionless; then he started again, and 
 -oon disappeared in the darkness. Red Ce- 
 diir stood with his body bowed forward, and 
 his ears on the watch, so long as the horse's 
 hoofs could be heard ; then he returned to 
 his own steed, and bounded into the saddle. 
 
 "Now to go and warn the dragoons," he 
 said, and pushed on. 
 
 The squatter had scarce departed ere 
 several men appeared from either side ; they 
 were Valentine, Curumilla, and Don Pablo 
 on the right ; Unicorn and Eagle-wing on 
 the left. Valentine and his friends were as- 
 tonished at meeting the Comanche chief, 
 whom they believed gone back to his camp ; 
 but the sachem explained to them, in a few 
 words, how, at the moment he was crossing 
 the spot where they now were, he had heard 
 Red Cedar's voice, and concealed himself in 
 the shrubs in order to overhear the squat- 
 ter's colloquy with his strange Mend. Val- 
 entine had done the same; but unfortunate- 
 ly, the party had been greatly disappointed, 
 for the squatter's conversation remained to 
 them an enigma, of which they sought the 
 key in vain. 
 
 *'Tis strange," Valentine remarked, as he 
 passed his hand several times across bis 
 
 forehead. "I do not know where 1 have 
 seen the man just now talking here with 
 Red Cedar, but I have a vague reminiscence 
 of having met him before, where and under 
 what circumstances I try, though in vain, in 
 recall." 
 
 " What shall we do ?" Don Pablo asked. 
 
 "Hang it, what we agreed on ;" and turn- 
 ing to the chief he said, " Good luck, broth- 
 er, I believe we shall save our friend." 
 
 " I am sure of it," the Indian replied, la- 
 conically. 
 
 " May heaven hear you, brother," Valen- 
 tine continued. " Act ! while, on your side, 
 you watch the town for fear of treason. We 
 then will ambush ourselves on the road the 
 gold-seeker must take, in order to know 
 positively the direction in which they are 
 proceeding. Till to-morrow, chief !" 
 
 "Stop!" a panting voice exclaimed, and 
 a man suddenly appeared in the midst of 
 them. 
 
 "Father Seraphin!" Valentine said, in 
 surprise. "What chance brings you this 
 way?" 
 
 " I was looking for you." 
 
 " What do you want with me ?" 
 
 " To give you some good news." 
 
 "Speak! speak quickly, father ! Has Don 
 Miguel left his prison ?" 
 
 "Alas! not yet; but his daughter is 
 free!" 
 
 "Dona Clara free!" Valentine shouted, 
 joyously. "Heaven be blessed! where is 
 she?" 
 
 "She is temporarily in safety, be assured 
 of that ; but let me give you a warning, 
 which may perhaps prove useful to you." 
 
 " Speak ! speak !' 
 
 " By order of the Governor, Red Cedar 
 has gone to meet the regiment of dragoons, 
 coming up to reinforce the Santa Fd garri- 
 son." 
 
 ""Are you sure of your statement, father ?" 
 
 "I am; in my presence, the men who car- 
 ried off Dona Clara spoke about it." 
 
 " All is lost if these soldiers arrive." 
 
 " Yes," the missionary said; "but, how 
 to prevent it ?" 
 
 Curumilla lightly touched the leader's 
 arm. 
 
 " What do you want, chief ?" 
 
 "The Comanches are warriors," Curumil- 
 la answered, curtly. 
 
 " Ah !" Valentine exclaimed, and tapping 
 his forehead with delight, "that is true, 
 chief; you save us." 
 
 " While you go in pursuit of the soldiers," 
 said Don Pablo, "as I can be of no service 
 to you, I will accompany Father Seraphin to 
 my poor sister." 
 
 " Do so," Valentine answered. " At day- 
 break you will bring Clara to the camp, that 
 I may myself deliver her to her father." 
 
 " That is agreed." 
 
 Valentine, Curumilia, and Unicorn rushed 
 out in the plain, while Father Seraphin and 
 Don Pablo returned to the town, Tke two 
 
LASSOED. 
 
 85 
 
 latter, anxious to join the girl, did not per- 
 jive that they were closely watched by an 
 idividual, who followed their every move- 
 lent, while careful not to be seen by them. 
 
 [t was Nathan, Red Cedar's eldest son. 
 How was that man there ? 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 THE AMBUSCADE. 
 
 THE night-breeze had swept the clouds 
 away ; the sky, of a deep azure, was studded 
 with an infinity of stars ; the night was lim- 
 pid, the atmosphere so transparent as to 
 allow the slightest varieties of the landscape 
 to be distinguished. About four leagues 
 from Santa Fe, a numerous band of horse- 
 men was following a path scarce traced in 
 the tall grass, which approached the town 
 with countless turns and windings. These 
 horsemen, who marched in rather decent 
 order, were nearly eight hundred in number, 
 and formed the regiment of dragoons so 
 anxiously expected by General Ventura, 
 About ten paces ahead rode four or five 
 ~cers gayly chatting together,amongvyhoui 
 the colonel. The regiment continued 
 march slowly, advancing cautiously, 
 rough fear of losing its way in a perfectly 
 range country. The colonel and his officers 
 o had always fought in the States border- 
 the Atlantic, found themselves now for 
 ,e first time in these savage countries. 
 The colonel suddenly remarked, " I con- 
 to you that I am completely ignorant 
 as to our whereabouts. Can any one of 
 you throw a light on the subject ? This 
 ,d is fearful ; it seems to lead nowhere, 
 d I am afraid we have lost our way." 
 " We are all as ignorant as yourself on that 
 ad, colonel," an officer answered ; " not 
 e of us could say where we are." 
 " Give the order to halt." 
 The officer immediately obeyed ; the 
 Idiers, wearied with a long night's march, 
 ted with shouts of joy the order to stop, 
 ey dismounted. The horses were unsad- 
 ed and picketed, camp-fires were lighted, 
 d in less than an hour the bivouac was 
 
 nged. 
 
 The colonel, in desiring to camp for the 
 ght, had a more serious fear than that of 
 'Sing his way ; It was that of falling in with 
 a party of Indios bravos. On the other hand, 
 he was unaware that the Governor of Santa 
 Fe" had such pressing need of his presence, 
 and this authorized him in acting with the 
 utmost precaution. Still, so soon as the 
 bivouac was established, and the sentinels 
 posted, the colonel sent off a dozen resolute 
 men under a sergeant, to trot up the 
 country and try to procure the assistance of 
 a guide. 
 
 The little squad had started at a gallop, 
 -.t it soon reduced its pace, and the soldiers 
 t began laugUing and talking, 
 
 caring little for the important mission with 
 which they were intrusted. A majestic si- 
 lence hovered over the plain, only disturbed 
 at intervals by those sounds, without any 
 known cause, which are heard on the savan- 
 nas, and which seem to be the respiration 
 of the sleeping world. Suddenly the mock- 
 ing-bird sung twice, and its plaintive and 
 soft song resounded melodiously through the 
 air. 
 
 u Hallo," one of the dragoons said, ad- 
 dressing his comrade, " that's a bird that 
 sings very late." 
 
 "An evil omen," the other said with a 
 shake of his head. 
 
 At this moment the song, which appeared 
 previously some distance off, could be heard 
 much more close, and seemed to come from 
 some trees on the side of the path the dra- 
 goons were following. The sergeant raised 
 his head and stopped ; but all became silent 
 again, so he shook his head and continued 
 his conversation. The detachment had 
 been out more than an hour. During this 
 long stroll, the soldiers had discovered 
 nothing suspicious. The officer was about 
 to give orders to return to camp, when one 
 of the troopers pointed out to him some 
 heavy, black forms, apparently prowling 
 about unsuspiciously. 
 
 " What on earth can that be ?" the officer 
 asked, after carefully examining what was 
 pointed out to him. 
 
 " (Jaspita" one of the dragoons exclaim- 
 ed, " that is easy to see ; they are browsing 
 deer!" 
 
 "Deer!" said the sergeant, in whom the 
 hunter's instinct was suddenly aroused, 
 " there are at least thirty; suppose we try 
 to lasso them." 
 
 The dragoons, delighted at the opportu- 
 nity of indulging in their favorite sport, dis- 
 mounted, fastened their horses to the road- 
 side trees and seized their lassos. On ar- 
 riving at a short distance from the game, the 
 dragoons separated in order to have room 
 for whirling their lassos, and making a cov- 
 ering of each tree, they managed to approach 
 within fifteen paces of the animals. 
 
 A strange thing happened at this moment, 
 however. All the deer-hides fell simultane- 
 ously to the ground, displaying Valentine. 
 Curumilla, and a dozen Comanche warriors, 
 who, profiting by the stupor of the troop- 
 ers at their extraordinary metamorphosis, 
 hunted the hunters by throwing lassos over 
 their shoulders and hurled them to the 
 ground. The ten dragoons and their leader 
 were prisoners. 
 
 " Well, my friends," Valentine said with 
 a grin, ''how do you like that sort of 
 fun?" 
 
 The startled dragoons made no reply, 
 but allowed themselves to be bound: one 
 alone muttered between his teeth : 
 
 " I was sure that villain of a mocking- 
 bird would bring us ill-luck : it sung on our 
 left. Tliat never deceives, Canarios /" 
 
THE TRAIL 
 
 IL-HUNT1 
 
 Valentine smiled at this sally. He then 
 placed two lingers in his mouth and imitat- 
 ed the cry of the mocking-bird with such 
 perfection, that the soldier looked up at 
 the tree.?, lie had scarce cuded, when a 
 rustling was heard among the bushes, and a 
 man leaped between the hunters and their 
 prisoners. It was Eagle-wing, the sachem 
 of the Coras. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 V I'KIENDLY DISCUSSION. 
 
 AFTER leaving his enemy (for the myste- 
 rious man with whom he had so stormy a dis- 
 cussion could be nothing else), Red Cedar set 
 out to join the regiment, and hasten its ar- 
 rival according to the orders he had received. 
 In spite of himself, the squatter was suffer- 
 ing from extraordinary nervousness. What- 
 ever might be the reason, it was a very potent 
 one ; for after a few minutes of deep thought, 
 his hands let go the reins and his head fell 
 on his breast: at length he raised it and 
 shouted, as he directed a savage glance at 
 the starlit sky, " Any struggle with that de- 
 mon is impossible. I must fly, so soon as 
 practicable, to the prairies of the far west. 
 General Ventura must seek another emis- 
 sary, for more important matters claim my 
 attention, i must go to the Rancho del Co- 
 yote, for there alone shall I find my revenge. 
 Fray Auibrosio and his prisoner can supply 
 me with the weapons I need for the terrible 
 contest I am compelled to wage against that 
 demon." 
 
 After having uttered these words in a low 
 voice, in the fashion of men wont to live in 
 solitude, Red Cedar appeared to regain all 
 his boldness and energy. He looked savage- 
 ly around, and, burying his spurs in his 
 horse's Hanks, he started with the speed of 
 an arrow in the direction of the rancho. 
 
 The monk and the gambusino, delighted at 
 the unexpected termination of the scene 
 we recently narrated, delighted above all at 
 having got rid of Dona Clara without be- 
 ing immediately mixed up in her escape, 
 tranquilly resumed their game of moittc. In 
 the midst of a most interesting game, they 
 heard the furious gallop of a horse up the 
 paved street. Instinctively they stopped 
 and listened: a secret foreboding seemed to 
 warn them that this horse was coming to 
 the rancho, and that its rider wanted them. 
 
 In truth, neither Fray Auibrosio nor An- 
 dres Garote had a quiet conscience, even 
 supposing, which was very doubtful, that 
 either had a conscience at all, for they felt 
 that they were responsible to Red Cedar for 
 Dona Clara. 
 
 The horse stopped short before the ran- 
 cho ; a man dismounted, and the door shook 
 beneath the tremendous blows of his nsts. 
 
 "Hum!" Andres whispered, as he- 
 blew out the solitary candle that illumined 
 the room. " Who the deuce can come at 
 
 this advanced hour of the night? I Lave a 
 great mind not to open." 
 
 IStrauge to say, Fray Ambrosio had ap- 
 parently regained all his serenity. With a 
 smiling face, crossed arms, and back leaned 
 against the wall, he seemed to be a perfect 
 stranger to what perplexed his mate so fu- 
 riously. At Garote' s remark an ironical 
 smile played round his pale iips for a second, 
 and he replied with the most perfect indif- 
 ference : 
 
 " You are at liberty to act as you please, 
 still I think it my duty to warn you of one 
 thing." 
 
 " What is it?" 
 
 "That, if you do not open your door, the 
 man, whoever he may be, now battering it, 
 is very capable of breaking it in, which 
 would be a decided nuisance for you." 
 
 "You speak very much at your ease," 
 the gambusino answered, ill-temperedly. 
 " Suppose it be Red Cedar ?" 
 
 " The greater reason to open the door. If 
 you hesitate, he will begin to suspect you: 
 and then take care, for he is a man capable 
 of killing you like a dog." 
 
 " Will you opeu ?" a rough voice shouted. 
 
 "Red Cedar !" both men whispered. 
 
 " I am coming," Andres replied, in a 
 voice which terror caused to tremble. 
 
 He rose unwillingly, and walked slowly 
 toward the door, which the squatter threat- 
 ened to tear from its hinges. 
 
 " Make haste !" he howled, " for I am in a 
 hurry." 
 
 "Hum! it is surely he!" the gambusiuo 
 thought. " Who are you ?" he asked. 
 
 " What ! who am 1 5"' Red Cedar exclaim- 
 ed, bounding with wrath. "Did you not 
 recognize me, or are you having a game with 
 me ?" 
 
 " I never have a game with any one," An- 
 dres replied, imperturbably : "but I warn 
 you that, although I fancy! recognfze your 
 voice, I shall not open till you mention your 
 name. The night is too far advanced for me 
 to risk receiving a suspicious person into my 
 house." 
 
 " I will break the door down." 
 
 " Try it," the gambusino shouted boldly, 
 " and by our Lady of Pilar I will send a bul- 
 let through your head." 
 
 At this threat the squatter rushed against 
 the door in incredible fury, with the evident 
 intention of breaking it in ; but, contrary to 
 his expectations, though it creaked and 
 groaned on its hinges, it did not give way. 
 Andres Garote had indulged in a line of 
 reasoning which was far from being illogical, 
 and revealed a profound knowledge of the 
 human heart, lie had said to himself, that, 
 as he must face Red Cedar's auger, it would 
 be better to let it reach its paroxysm at 
 once, so as to have only the decreasing 
 period to endure. He smiled at the squat- 
 ter's sterile attempts, then, and repeated his 
 request. 
 
 "Well, then," the other said, furiously, 
 
A TRAGEDY. 
 
 87 
 
 IMJ 
 
 wat( 
 
 ham 
 
 " I am Red Cedar. Do you recognize me 
 now ?" 
 
 " Of course ; I see that I can open with- 
 out danger." 
 
 And the ranchero hurriedly drew back the 
 bolts. Red Cedar ru>hed into the room with 
 a yell of fury, but Andres had put out the 
 light. The "squatter stopped, surprised by 
 the gloom which prevented, him distitfg&iah- 
 ing any object. 
 
 " Hallo !" he said. >% What is the mean- 
 ing of this darkness ' J . \ eau see nothing." 1 
 
 " Caspita /" Andres replied, impudently, 
 " do you think 1 amuse myseit" o' nights by 
 
 atching the moon ? I was asleep, when 
 u ean.e to arouse me with your infernal 
 raering." 
 
 That is possible," the squatter remarked ; 
 l< but there was no reason for keeping me so 
 long at your door." 
 
 41 Prudence is the mother of security. 
 We must not let every comer into the 
 rancho." 
 
 11 Hum !" the squatter snorted, suspicious- 
 ly ; light the candle." 
 
 Andres struck a match, and Red Cedar 
 looked eagerly round the room ; but Fray 
 Ambrosio had disappeared. 
 
 "Where is the monk?" Red Cedar 
 asked. 
 
 " I do not know : probably gone." 
 
 The squatter shook his head 
 
 "All this is not clear," he muttered; 
 " there is treachery behind it.' 1 
 
 " That is possible," Andres answered, 
 calmly. 
 
 Red Cedar bent on Andres eyes that flash- 
 ed with fury, and roughly seized him by the 
 throat, 
 
 "Answer, scoundrel!" he fhouted. 
 "What has become of Dona Clara !" 
 
 "I do not know." 
 
 The squatter squeezed more tightly. 
 
 :' You do not know!" he yelled. 
 "No!" Andres whined, "1 tell you I do 
 
 t know." 
 
 " Malediction!" Red Cedar went on. "I 
 will kill you, if you are obstinate." 
 
 " Let that man go, and I will tell you all 
 you wish to know," was said in a firm voice 
 by a hunter, who at this moment appeared 
 oh the threshold. 
 
 The two men turned in amaxement. 
 
 H Nathan !" Red Cedar touted on recog- 
 nizing his son. u What are you doing 
 
 "I will tell you, father," the young man 
 Miid, as he entered the room. 
 
 i 11 AFTER XLI. 
 NA m \\. 
 
 NATHAN was not asleep, as Ellen supposed, 
 when she urged on Shaw to devote himself 
 to liberate Clara, and ho had listened atten- 
 tively to the conversation. Since the fatal 
 
 night, when the, chief of the Coras had 
 avenged himself for the burning of his vil- 
 lage and the murder of its inhabitants, 
 Nathan's character had grown still more 
 gloomy ; he had sworniuhis heart to avenge 
 on those who fell into his hands the injury 
 one man had inflicted on him ; in a word, 
 Nathan loved none and hated every thing. 
 
 When Shaw had disappeared among the 
 bushes, and Ellen, after taking a final glance 
 around to convince herself that all was in 
 order, re-entered the hut that served her as 
 a shelter, Nathan rose cautiously, threw hi.s 
 rifle over his shoulder, and rushed after his 
 brother. 
 
 Convinced of the importance of the affair, 
 and knowing tine, value his father attached 
 lo carrying off the maiden, who was a most 
 precious hostage for him, Nathan did not 
 lose a moment, but bounded with the agili- 
 ty of a tiger-cat over the obstacles that be- 
 set his path. Presently, he reached an is- 
 olated house, not far from which several 
 men were conversing together in a low 
 voice. Nathan stopped and listened; he 
 recognized well-known men, and his mind 
 was at once made up. 
 
 lie laid himself on the ground, and ad- 
 vanced, inch by inch, crawling like a serpent. 
 At length he reached a clump of Peru tree:-, 
 only a few yards distant from the spot where 
 the men were standing. His expectations 
 were not deceived ; though a few words es- 
 caped him here and there, he was near 
 enough perfectly to catch the sense of the 
 conference. A sinister smile lit up his face, 
 and he eagerly clenched the barrel of his 
 rifle. 
 
 Presently the party broke into two. Val- 
 entine, Curuinilla, and L'nieorn, took the 
 road leading to the country, while Don Pa- 
 blo and Father Seraphin returned toward 
 Santa Fe. 
 
 So soon as they were gone, Nathan drew 
 two or three deep breaths, and started in 
 pursuit of Don Pablo and the missionary, 
 with whom he soon caught up. 
 
 They walked quickly, like persons anxious 
 to reach a place where they know they are 
 expected, exchanging but a few words at 
 intervals, whose "meaning, however, caught 
 up by the man who followed them, urged 
 him still more not to let them out of siglit. 
 They thus traversed the greater part of the 
 town, until reaching their destination a 
 house of handsome aspect. 
 
 A weak light burned at the window of a 
 ground-floor room. By an instinctive move- 
 ment, the two men turned round at the mo- 
 ment of entering the house, but Nathan had 
 slipped into a doorway, and they did not 
 perceive him. Father Scraphin tapped gent - 
 ly ; the door was at once opened, and they 
 went iu. Nathan stationed himself in the 
 middle of the street, with his eyes ardently 
 fixed on the only window of the house lit 
 up. Ere long, shadows crossed the cur- 
 tains. 
 
85 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " Good !" the young man mattered ; " but 
 how to warn the old one that the dove is in 
 her nest?" 
 
 All at once, a heavy hand was laid on his 
 shoulder, and Nathan turned, fiercely clutch- 
 ing a bowie-knife. A man was before him, 
 gloomy, sile.nt, and wrapped in the thick 
 folds of his cloak. 
 
 " Go your way," he said, in a menacing 
 voice. 
 
 "Nonsense, you are mad; the road be- 
 longs to all. This place suits me, and I 
 shall remain." 
 
 " I wish to be alone here." 
 
 "You mean to kill me, then?' 
 
 "If I must, yes, without hesitation." 
 
 The two speakers had exchanged these 
 words in a low and hurried voice, in less 
 time than we have employed to write them. 
 They stood but a few paces apart, with 
 flashing eyes, ready to rush on each other. 
 
 " So be it," said Nathan, drawing a knife 
 from his boot. 
 
 " Then your blood will be on your own 
 head." 
 
 " Or on yours," Nathan replied. 
 
 The two foemen each fell back a pace, and 
 stood on guard, their cloaks rolled round 
 their left arms. The moon, vailed by 
 clouds, shed no light ; midnight struck from 
 the cathedral. Suddenly Nathan uttered a 
 hoarse yell, rushed on his enemy, and threw 
 his cloak in his face, to put him off his 
 guard. The stranger parried the stroke 
 dealt him, and replied by another, warded 
 off with equal dexterity. The two men 
 then seized each other round the waist, and 
 wrestled for some minutes, without utter- 
 ing a word ; at length the stranger rolled ou 
 the ground with a heavy sigh; Nathan's 
 knife was buried in his chest. He rose 
 with a yell of triumph his enemy was mo- 
 tionless. 
 
 " Can I have killed him ?" he muttered. 
 
 He returned his knife to his boot, and 
 bent over the wounded man. All at once 
 he started back, for he had recognized his 
 brother Shaw. 
 
 " What is to be done now ?" he said ; but 
 then added carelessly, "Pshaw! all the 
 worse for him. Why did he come across 
 my path ? Well, heaven knows, I ought 
 not, and could not have hesitated." 
 
 Shaw lay to all Appearance dead, with pale 
 and drawn cheeks, in the center of the 
 street. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 THE WOUNDED MAN. 
 
 NATHAN proceeded straight to the Ran- 
 cho del Coyote, where his unexpected ar- 
 rival was a blessing for Andres Garote, 
 whom the old squatter was treating very 
 roughly. On hearing his son's words, Red 
 Cedar let go of the gambusino, who tottered 
 back against the wall. 
 
 Well," he said, "where is Dona Clara?" 
 ' Come with me, father," the young man 
 answered; "I will lead you to .her." 
 ' You know her hiding-place, then ?" 
 ' Yes." 
 'And so do I," Fray Ambrosio shouted, 
 
 he rushed into the room with discomposed 
 features ; "I felt sure I should discover 
 her." 
 
 Red Cedar looked at him in amazement, 
 but the monk did not wince. 
 
 " What has happened to her ?" the squat- 
 ter said, presently, as he looked suspicious- 
 ly from the monk to the gambusino. 
 
 "A very simple matter," Fray Ambrosio 
 answered, with an inimitably truthful ac- 
 cent ; about two hours back your son Shaw 
 came here." 
 
 "Goon." 
 
 " Very good. He presented himself lo 
 us as coming from you to remove our pris- 
 oner." 
 
 " And what did you do ?" the squatter 
 asked, impatiently. 
 
 "What could we do ?" 
 
 " Why, oppose the girl's departure." 
 
 "Do you fancy ve let her go so?" the 
 monk asked, inperturbably. 
 
 The squatter looked at him in surprise 
 he no longer understood any thing. Like 
 all men of action, discussion was to him al- 
 most a matter of impossibility : especially 
 with an adversary so crafty as the one he 
 had before him. Deceived by the monk's 
 coolness and the apparent frankness of his 
 answers, he wished to make an end of it. 
 
 "Come," he said, "how did all this fin- 
 ish?" 
 
 " Thanks to an ally who came to your 
 son's help, and to whom we were obliged to 
 bow " 
 
 " An ally ! What man can be so bold as to 
 dare" 
 
 " Eh !" the monk sharply interrupted Red 
 Cedar, " that man is a priest, to whom you 
 have already bowed many a time." 
 
 " You are jesting," the squatter exclaim- 
 ed savagely. 
 
 " Not the least in the world. Had it been 
 any one else, I should have resisted ; but I, 
 too, belong to the Church ; and as Father 
 Scraphin is my superior, I was forced to 
 obey him." 
 
 "What!" the squatter said, with a groan, 
 " is he not dead ?" 
 
 "It appears," the monk remarked, ironi- 
 cally, "as if those you kill are nil in a good 
 state of health, Red Cedar." 
 
 At this allusion to Don Pablo's death, the 
 squatter stifled a cry of anger, clenched 
 his fists, and said : "If 1 do not always kill, 
 1 know how to take my revenge. Where it- 
 Dona Clara at this moment ?" 
 
 "In a house no great distance from here," 
 Nathan answered. 
 
 "Good!" said Red Cedar; " as the dove 
 is in her nest, we shall be able to find her. 
 What o'clock is it?" 
 
A SHUDDEE. 
 
 " Three in the morning," Andree inter- 
 jected. "Day will soon break." 
 
 " We must make haste, then. Follow me, 
 all of you. Then he added, "But what has 
 become of Shaw ? Does any oue of you 
 know?" 
 
 " You will probably tiud him at the doer 
 of Clara's house," Nathan said, hi a hollow 
 voice. 
 
 "How so? Has my son entered into a 
 compact with my enemies ?" 
 
 " Yes ; as he arranged with them to carry 
 off your prisoner." 
 
 "Oh ! I will kill him if he prove a trai- 
 tor !" the squatter shouted with an accent 
 that made the blood run cold in the veins of 
 bis hearers. 
 
 "That is done," Nathau said, harshly. 
 " Shaw tried to stub me, so I killed him." 
 
 After these mournful words, there was a 
 moment of silence in the rancho. All these 
 men, though their hearts were steeled by 
 crime, shuddered involuntarily. The squat- 
 ter passed his hard hand over his dank 
 brow. A sigh, like a howl, painfully forced 
 its way from his oppressed chest. 
 
 " He was my last born," he said, in a voice 
 broken by an emotion which he could not 
 control. " He deserved death, but he ought 
 not to have received it at his brother's 
 hands." 
 
 "Tather!" Nathan muttered. 
 
 "Silence!" Red Cedar shouted, in a hol- 
 low voice, as he stamped his foot passionate- 
 ly on the ground ; " what is done can not be 
 undone; but, woe to my enemy's family!" 
 
 After uttering these words, he said to his 
 mates, in a hollow voice : 
 
 "Let us be off! We have wasted too 
 much time here already !" 
 
 And he left the raucho, the others follow- 
 ing close at his heels. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Don Pablo and Father 
 Seraphin were with Clara. The priest had 
 taken the maiden to the house of an honest 
 family which owed him great obligations, 
 and was too happy to receive the poor suf- 
 ferer. 
 
 Dona Clara had been placed in a comfort- 
 able room by her hosts. The maiden, worn 
 out by the poignant emotions of the scene 
 ehe had witnessed, was on the point of re- 
 tiring to bed, when Father Seraphin and 
 Don Pablo tapped at the door of her room, 
 tine hastily opened it, and the sight of her 
 brother, whom she had not hoped to see so 
 speedily, overwhelmed her with joy. 
 
 An hour soon slipped away in pleasant 
 chat. Don Pablo was careful not to tell his 
 eister of the misfortune that had befallen 
 their father. Then, as the night was ad- 
 vancing, the two men withdrew, so as to 
 allow her to enjoy that rest so needed to 
 strengthen her for the journey home. Fa- 
 ther Seraphin offered Don Pablo to pass the 
 night with him by sharing the small lodging 
 he had not far from there, and the young 
 man eagerly accepted. After a leave- taking, 
 
 they, therefore, left the house, and, so soon 
 as they were gone, Clara threw herself, ready 
 dressed, into a hammock hanging at one end 
 of the room, when she speedily fell asleep. 
 
 On reaching" the street, Don Pablo saw a 
 body lying motionless in front of the house. 
 
 " What is this ?" he asked, in surprise. 
 
 "A poor wretch whom robbers have killed 
 in order to plunder him," the missionary 
 answered. 
 
 "That IP possible." 
 
 " Perhaps he is not quite dead," the mis- 
 sionary went on; "it is our duty to succor 
 him." 
 
 "As you please," Don Pablo said, as he 
 followed him. 
 
 Shaw, for it was he, gave no signs of life. 
 The missionary examined him, then rose 
 hastily, seized Don Pablo's arm, and drew 
 him to him, as he whispered : 
 
 "Look!" 
 
 "Shaw!" the Mexican exclaimed, in sur- 
 
 Erise ; " what could that man be doing 
 ere?" 
 
 " Help me, and we shall learn. The poor 
 fellow has only fainted ; and the loss of 
 blood has produced this semblance to 
 death." 
 
 Don Pablo, greatly perplexed by this sin- 
 gular meeting, obeyed the missionary, with- 
 out further remark. The two men raised 
 the wounded lad, and carried him gently to 
 Father Seraph in 1 s lodging, where they pro- 
 posed to give him all the help his condition 
 required. 
 
 They had scarce turned the corner of the 
 street, when several men appeared at the 
 other extremity. They were Red Cedar and 
 his confederates. On arriving in front of 
 the house they stopped: all the windows 
 were in the deepest obscurity. 
 
 " Which is the girl's room': 1 " the squatter 
 asked in a whisper. 
 
 "This one," Nathan said, as he pointed to 
 it. 
 
 Red Cedar crawled up to the house, drove 
 his dagger into the wall, raised himself to 
 the window, and placed his face against a 
 pane. 
 
 "All is well! she sleeps!" he said, when 
 he came down. " You, Fray Ambrosio, to 
 one corner of the street; you, Garote, to 
 the other; and do not let me be surprised." 
 
 The monk and the miner went to their 
 allotted posts. When Red Cedar was alone 
 with his son he bent and whispered in his 
 ear: 
 
 " What did you do with your brother ?" 
 
 1 1 left him on the spot where he fell." 
 
 " Where was that?" 
 
 "Just where we now stand." 
 
 The squatter stooped down to the ground, 
 and walked a few steps, carefully examining 
 the bloody traces leit on the pebbles. 
 
 "He has been carried off," he said, when 
 he rose again. " Perhaps he is not dead." 
 
 Then they prepared to escalade the win- 
 dow. 
 
THE TRAIL- HUNTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 INDIAN DIPLOMACY. 
 
 WE will return, for the present, to Valen- 
 tine and his comrades. 
 
 The sudden apparition of the sachem of 
 the Coras had produced a certain degree of 
 emotion among the hunters and the Coman- 
 ches. Valentine, the first to recover from 
 his surprise, addressed Eagle-wing. 
 
 "My brother is welcome," he said, as he 
 held out his hand, which the Indian warmly 
 pressed. " What news does the chief bring 
 us?" 
 
 "Good," the Coras answered laconically. 
 
 "My brother can speak," Valentine con- 
 tinued; "he is surrounded by none but 
 friends." 
 
 "I know it," the chief answered, as In- 
 bowed gracefully to the company. "Since 
 J left my brother two months have pa.-sed 
 away: 1 have worn out many moccasins 
 amid the thorns and brambles of the, desert: 
 I have been beyond the Cireat Lakes to the 
 villages of my nation." 
 
 "Good; my brother is a chief; he was 
 .doubtless well received by the sachems of 
 the Coras of the Great Lakes." 
 
 "Mookapec is a renowned warrior among 
 his people," the Indian answered proudly"; 
 "his place by the council-lire of the nation 
 .is pointed out The chief's saw him with joy." 
 
 The hunter's comrades had drawn nearer, 
 and now formed a circle round the t\vo 
 speakers. Curuniilla was occupied silently, 
 .as was his wont, in completely stripping 
 each Spanish prisoner, whom he then bound 
 in such away that the slightest movement 
 
 was Impossible. 
 
 Valentine, although time pressed, knew 
 too well the Red-skin character to try and 
 hurry Eagle-wing on. lie felt certain that 
 the chief had important news to communi- 
 cate, to him; but it would have been no use 
 trying to draw it from him ; hence he al- 
 lowed him to act as he pleased. rnic.orn, 
 leaning on his rille, listened attentively, 
 without evincing the slightest impatience." 
 "Goon, chief/' Valentine said. 
 'They assembled in council to hear the 
 words of Eagle-wing." the Coras continued. 
 'They shuddered with fury on hearing of 
 the massacre of their children; but Mooka- 
 pec had formed his plan, and two hundred 
 warriors are assembled beneath his lote.m." 
 
 "Good!" said Valentine, "the chief will 
 avenge himself." 
 The Indian smiled. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "my yoiuig men have, 
 their orders, they know what I mean to do." 
 "Very good! in that case they are near 
 here ?" 
 
 "No," the chief replied, with a shake ol 
 his head. "Eagle-wing does .not march 
 with them ; he lias hidden hinit-elf under 
 the skin of an Apache dog." 
 
 "What does my brother say?" Valentine 
 asked, with amazement. 
 
 "My white brother is quick; his nation 
 is great," Unicorn interposed; "it does 
 not need to march along hidden paths. The 
 poor Indians are weak as the beaver, but 
 like him they are very cunning." 
 
 "That is true," Valentine replied; "cun- 
 ning must be allowed you in dealing with 
 the implacable enemies who surround jou. 
 I was wrong ; so go on, chief ; tell us what 
 deviling you have invented, and if it is in- 
 geniouswell, I will be the first to applaud 
 
 '"Wan, my brother shall judge. Red 
 Cedar is about to enter the desert, as my 
 brother doubtless knows ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Does my brother know that he has 
 asked the Apaches for a guide ?" 
 
 "No, I did not." 
 
 " Good. Stanapat, the great chief of the 
 Apaches, sent a Navajoe warrior to act as 
 guide to lied Cedar." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " The Navajoe was scalped by Eagle- 
 wing." 
 
 "Ah, ah! then Red Cedar can not set 
 out?" 
 
 " Eagle-wing takes the place of the guide." 
 
 " Hum ?" Valentine remarked, with some 
 show of ill-humor. "It is possible, but you 
 play for a heavy stake, chief. That old vil- 
 lain is as crafty as ten monkeys ami ten 
 opossums united. I warn you that he will 
 recognize you." 
 
 "My brother can be easy. Eagle-wing is 
 a warrior ; he will see the white hunter 
 again in the desert." 
 
 " I wish so, chief; but I doubt. However, 
 act as you please. When will vou join Red 
 Cedar?" 
 
 "This night." 
 
 " You are going to leave us ?" 
 
 " At once. Eagle-wing has nothing more 
 1o confide to his brother." 
 
 And, after bowing courteously to the com- 
 pany, the Coras chief glided into the thicket, 
 in which he disappeared almost instanta- 
 neously. Valentine looked after him for 
 some time. 
 
 "Yes," he said at last, with a thoughtful 
 air, "his project is a daring one, such as 
 might be expected from so great a warrior. 
 May Heaven protect him, and allow him to 
 succeed!" 
 
 And turning to Curuniilla, " The clothes? " 
 he said. 
 
 "Here they are," the Aucas answered, la- 
 conically, as he pointed to au enormous 
 heap of clothiiiir. 
 
 " What does my brother mean to do with 
 them ?" Unicorn 'asked. 
 
 "My brother will see," Valentine said, 
 with a smile; "each of us is going to put 
 on one of these uniforms." 
 
 The Comanche drew himself up haughtily. 
 
 "No," he said, "Unicorn does not put 
 off the dress of his people. What need 
 have we of this disguise?" 
 

 THE DBA OOONS SURPRISED. 
 
 In order to enter the camp of the Spun 
 iarcls without being discovered." 
 
 "The hunter will act rightly. But I ni 
 com is a chief, he can not put on the clothe.-, 
 of the pale-faces." 
 
 Valentine no longer insisted, as it would 
 have been unavailing ; so he agreed to modi 
 fy Ills plan. He made each of his comrade- 
 put on a dragoon uniform, and himself 
 donned the clothes stripped from th- 
 geant. When the metamorphosis was as 
 complete as possible, he turned to Unicorn. 
 
 "The chief will remain here," he said, 
 "to guard the prisoners." 
 
 "Good," the Comanche answered. "Is 
 Unicorn, then, a chattering old woman, that 
 warriors place him on one side?" 
 
 " My brother does not understand me. I 
 do not wish to insult him, but he can not 
 enter the camp with us." 
 
 The chief shrugged his shoulders disdain- 
 fully. 
 
 "The Comanche warriors can crawl iir, 
 11 as serpents. Unicorn will enter." 
 'Let my brother come, then, since he 
 hes it." 
 
 " Unicorn is a sachem ; he must give an 
 mpleto his young men on the war-path." 
 alentine gave a nod of assent. 
 'Here are the horses of the pale-faces,'' 
 rumilla said; "my brother will need 
 m." 
 
 " That is true," the hunter answered, 
 with a smile ; " my brother is a great chief, 
 he thinks of every thing." 
 
 Every one mounted, Unicorn alone re- 
 mained on foot. Valentine placed the 
 sergeant by his side. 
 
 He said to him: "You will act as our 
 guide to the camp. We do not wish to take 
 the lives of your countrymen ; our intention 
 is simply to prevent them following us at 
 present. Pay attention to my words; if 
 you attempt to deceive us, I blow out your 
 brains. You are warned." 
 
 The Spaniard bowed, but made no reply. 
 As for the prisoners, they had been :-o con- 
 scientiously tied by Curumilla, that then- 
 was no chance of their escaping. The little 
 hand then set out, Unicorn dUttppearing 
 itnong the trees. When they came a short 
 listance from the bivouac, "a sentry chal- 
 lenged, " Who goes there?" 
 
 "Answer," Valentine whispered to the 
 sergeant. 
 
 He did so. They passed, and the sentry, 
 
 suddenly seized by Curamilla, was bound 
 
 in the twinkling of an eye, all 
 
 .-.ring the same fate. 
 
 MS keep up a very bad watch in 
 
 the field, even in the presence of an enemy. 
 
 Everybody was asleep, and Valentine and 
 
 his friends were masters of the eurnp. The 
 
 regiment of dragoons had been sur 
 
 without striking a blow. 
 
 91 
 
 They proceeded from picket to 
 picket, removing the horses, which were led 
 out of camp. "\Vithin twenty minutes all 
 had been carried off. When they had fin- 
 ished, Valentine raised the curtain of the 
 colonel's tent, and found himself face to face 
 with Unicorn, from whose waist-belt I; 
 reeking scalp. Valentine could not re] 
 a movement of horror. 
 
 " What have yon done, chief?" he asked, 
 reproachfully. 
 
 " Unicorn has killed his enemy," the Co- 
 manehe replied, peremptorily. " When 
 the leader of the antelopes }* killed, his 
 flock disperses ; the garhupinos will do the 
 same." 
 
 Valentine drew near the colonel. The un- 
 happy man, fearfully mutilated, with his 
 brain laid bare, lay stark dead in a pool of 
 blood, in the middle of the tent. The hun- 
 ter vented a sigh at this sorry sight. 
 
 Taking away his saber and epaulettes, he 
 lefl the tent, followed by the Indian chief, 
 and rejoined his comrades. The horses 
 were led to the Comanche camp, after which 
 Valentine and his party wrapped themselves 
 in their blankets, and slept calmly till day- 
 break. The dragoons were no longer to be 
 feared. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 TllK .-TKAV-KK. 
 
 FATIIKK SKKAPHIN and Don Pablo we left 
 bearing the wounded man to the missionary's 
 lodging. Although the house to which they 
 were proceeding was but. a short distance 
 off, yet the two gentlemen, compelled to 
 take every precaution, employed consider- 
 able time on the journey. Nearly every 
 step they were compelled to halt, so as not 
 to fatigue too greatly the wounded man, 
 whose inert limbs swayed in every direc- 
 tion. 
 
 " That man is dead,'' Don Pablo remark- 
 ed, during a halt. 
 
 " 1 fear so," the mi-sionary an.-wered, sad- 
 ly ; "still, as we are not certain of it, our 
 comcienee bids us to bestow our care 01; 
 him, until we acquire the painful conviction 
 that it avails him naught." 
 
 " I will do what you wi*h, father. You 
 have entire power over me. Slill, 1 fear that 
 all our care will be thrown away." 
 
 ''God, whose humble instruments we are, 
 will prove you wronu', I ho. . a lit- 
 
 tle courage ; a few paces further, and we 
 (shall have arrived." 
 
 Father Scraphin lodged at a house of 
 modest appearance, in a .-nnl) room he hired 
 from a poor widow. This room only receiv- 
 ed air from a window opening on an inner 
 yard, and wasa perfect conventual cell, as far 
 as furniture was concerned, for the lattercon- 
 
 Valentine's comrades dismounted; they sisted of a wooden frame, over whicb a bull 
 4/1 
 
 exactly how to act, and did not devf- 
 instructions given by their 
 
 hide was stretched, and served as the mis- 
 sionary's bed. But, like all cells, this room 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTEA. 
 
 was marvelously clean. From a few nails 
 hung the well-worn clothes of the poor 
 priest, and a shelf supported vials and flasks 
 which doubtless contained medicaments ; 
 lor, like all the missionaries, Father Sera- 
 phin had a rudimentary knowledge of med- 
 icine, and took in charge both the souls and 
 bodies of his neophytes. 
 
 The father lit a candle of yellow tallow 
 standing in an iron candlestick, and aided 
 by Don Pablo, laid the wounded man on his 
 own bed ; after which the young man fell 
 back into a chair to regain his breath. Father 
 Seraphin, on whom, spite of his fragile ap- 
 pearance, the fatigue had produced no ap- 
 parent effect, then went down stairs to lock 
 the street-door, which he had left open. As 
 he pushed it to, he felt an opposition out- 
 side, and a man soon entered the yard. 
 
 "Pardon, my reverend sir," the stranger 
 said ; u but be kind enough not to leave me 
 outside." 
 
 " Do you live in this house ?" 
 
 "No," the stranger coolly replied, " 1 do 
 not live in Santa Fe", where I am quite un- 
 known." 
 
 " Do you ask hospitality of me, then?" 
 Father Seraphin continued, much surprised 
 at this answer. 
 
 " Not at all, reverend sir." 
 
 " Then what do you want?" the mission- 
 ary said, still more surprised. 
 
 " I wish to follow you to the room where 
 you have laid the wounded man, to whose 
 aid you came so generously a short time 
 back." 
 
 " This request, sir " the priest said, hes- 
 itating. 
 
 " Has nothing that need surprise you. I 
 have the greatest interest in seeing with my 
 own eyes in what state that man is, for cer- 
 tain reasons which in no way concerns 
 you." 
 
 " Do you know who he is ?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " Are you a relation or friend of his ?" 
 
 "Neither one nor the other. Still, I re- 
 peat to you, very weighty reasons compel 
 me to see him and speak "with him, if that 
 be possible." 
 
 Fatner Seraphin took a searching glance 
 at the speaker. He was a man "of great 
 hijjht, apparently in the fullest vigor of 
 life. His features, so far a* it was possible 
 to distinguish them by the pale and tremu- 
 lous moonbeams, were handsome, though 
 an expression of unbending will was the 
 marked thing about them. He wore the 
 rich dress of a Mexican, and had in his right 
 hand a magnificently inlaid American rifle. 
 Still the missionary hesitated. 
 
 " Well," the stranger continued, "have 
 you made up your mind ?" 
 
 "Sir," Father Seraphin answered with 
 firmness, " do not take in ill part what I am 
 going to say to you." 
 
 The stranger bowed. 
 
 *' I do not know who you are ; you pre- 
 
 sent yourself to me in the depths of the 
 night, under singular circumstances. You 
 insist, with strange tenacity, on seeing the 
 poor man whom Christian charity compelled 
 me to pick up. Prudence demands that 1 
 should refuse to let you see him." 
 
 A certain annoyance was depicted on the 
 stranger's features. 
 
 "You are right," he answered; " appear- 
 ances are against me. Unfortunately, the 
 explanation you demand from me justly 
 would make us lose too much precious time", 
 hence I can not give them to you at this 
 moment. All I can do is to swear, in the 
 face of Heaven, on that crucifix }*ou wear 
 round your neck, and which is the symbol 
 of our redemption, that I only wish well to 
 the man you have housed, and that I am 
 this moment seeking to punish a great crim- 
 inal." 
 
 The stranger uttered these words with 
 such frankness, and such an air of sincerity, 
 his face glistened with so much honesty, 
 that the missionary felt convinced : he took 
 np the crucifix and offered it to this extraor- 
 dinary man. 
 
 " Swear," he said. 
 
 " I swear it," he replied in a firm voice. 
 
 " Good," the priest went on ; " now you 
 can enter, sir ; you are one of ourselves ; I 
 will not even insult you by asking your 
 name." 
 
 " My name would teach you nothing, 
 father," the stranger said sadly. 
 
 " IJollow me, sir." 
 
 The missionary locked the gate and led 
 the stranger to his room, on entering which 
 the new-comer took off his hat reverently, 
 took a position in a corner of the room, and 
 did not stir. 
 
 "Do not trouble yourself about me," he 
 said in a whisper, " and put implicit faith in 
 the oath I took." 
 
 The missionary only replied by a nod, and 
 as the wounded man gave no sign of life, 
 but still lay much in the position he was 
 first placed in, Father Seraphin walked up to 
 him. For a long time, however, the atten- 
 tion he lavished on him proved sterile, and 
 seemed to produce no effect on the squatter's 
 son. Still, the father did not despair, al- 
 though Don Pablo shook his head. An hour 
 thus passed, and no ostensible change had 
 taken place in the young man's condition ; 
 the missionary had exhausted all his stock 
 of knowledge, and began to fear the worst. 
 At this moment the stranger walked up to 
 him. 
 
 He said touching him gently on the arm, 
 " you have done all that was humanely pos- 
 sible, but have not succeeded." 
 
 " Alas ! no !" the missionary said, sadly. 
 
 " Will you permit me to try in my turn ? 
 
 " Do you fancy that you will prove more 
 successful than I ?" the priest csked in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " I hope so," the stranger said softly. 
 
 " Still, you see I have tried every thing 
 
TEE GENERAL A WAKE. 
 
 that the medical art prescribes in such a 
 case." 
 
 " That is true ; but the Indians possess cer- 
 tain secrets known only to themselves, and 
 which are of great efficacy." 
 
 44 I have heard so. But do you know these 
 secrets?" 
 
 41 Some of them have been revealed to me : 
 I will try their effects on this young man, 
 who, as far as I can judge, is in a desperate 
 condition." 
 
 44 1 fear he is, poor fellow." 
 
 The stranger bent over the young man, 
 and regarded him fora moment with fixed 
 attention ; then he drew from his pocket a 
 flask of carved crystal, filled with a fluid as 
 green as emerald. With the point of his 
 dagger he slightly opened the wounded man's 
 closed teeth, and poured into his mouth four 
 or five drops of the fluid contained in the 
 flask. A strange thing then occured ; the 
 young man gave vent to a deep sigh, opened 
 his eyes several times, and suddenly, as if 
 moved by supernatural force, he sat up and 
 looked around him with amazement. Don 
 Pablo and the missionary were almost in- 
 clined to believe in a miracle, so extraordi- 
 nary did this appear to them. The stranger 
 returned to his dark corner. Suddenly the 
 young man passed his hand over his dank 
 forehead, and muttered in a hollow voice : 
 
 44 Ellen, my sister, it is too late. I can 
 not save her. See, see, they are carrying her 
 off; she is lost!" 
 
 And he fell back on the bed, as the three 
 men rushed toward him. 
 
 44 He sleeps !" the missionary said in amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 44 He is saved !" the stranger answered. 
 
 44 What did he want to say, though?" Don 
 Pablo inquired anxiously. 
 
 44 Did you not understand it ?" the 
 stranger asked him. 
 
 44 No; did you?" 
 
 44 Yes ; that lad wished to deliver your sis- 
 ter !" 
 
 44 It is true. Go on. 
 
 " He was stabbed at the door of the house 
 where she sought shelter." 
 
 44 What next?" 
 
 44 Those who stabbed him wished to get 
 him out of the way, in order to carry her cff 
 a second time." 
 
 44 Ah!" Don Pablo exclaimed in despair, 
 4f my father let us fly to my sister's aid !" 
 
 The two men rushed from the house with 
 a presentiment of misfortune. When the 
 stranger found himself alone with the 
 wounded man, he walked up to him, wrap- 
 ped him in his cloak, threw him over his 
 shoulders as easy as if he were only a child, 
 and went out in his turn. On reaching the 
 street, he carefully closed the door, and 
 went off at a great rate, soon disappearing 
 in the darkness. At the same instant the 
 melancholy voice of the watchman could 
 be heard chanting the hour of four. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 GENERAL VENTURA. 
 
 IT was about six in the morning. A daz- 
 zling sun poured down his transparent rays 
 011 the streets of Santa F^, which were al- 
 ready full of noise and movement at that 
 early hour of the morning. General Ventu- 
 ra was still plunged in a deep sleep, reassur- 
 ed by the speedy arrival of the dragoons 
 promised him, and fancying he had nothing 
 more to fear from theComanche, who, on the 
 previous day, had so audaciously bearded 
 him in the very heart of his palace. 
 
 Suddenly the door of the sleeping room in 
 which the worthy Governor reposed, was torn 
 violently open, and an officer entered. Gen- 
 eral Ventura, aroused with a start, sat up in 
 his bed, fixing on the importunate visitor a 
 glance, at first stern, but which at once be- 
 came uneasy on seeing the alarm depicted 
 on the officer's features. 
 
 44 What is the matter, Senor Captain Don 
 Lopez ?" 
 
 Captain Lopez was a soldier of fortune, 
 who. had grown gray in harness, and con- 
 tracted a species of rough frankness, that 
 prevented him toning the truth down under 
 any circumstances, which fact made him ap- 
 pear in the General's eyes, a bird of very 
 evil omen. To the General's query the cap- 
 tain only returned the following three 
 storm-laden words : 
 
 44 Nothing that's good." 
 
 " What do you mean?" 
 
 44 There is a soldier outside who has just 
 come from I don't know where, and who in- 
 sists on speaking with you. Shall I bring 
 him, or send him about his business ?" 
 
 " One moment," exclaimed the General, 
 whose features had suddenly become gloomy ; 
 44 who is the soldier?" 
 
 44 A dragoon, I fancy." 
 
 44 A dragoon! let him come in at once. 
 May Heaven bless you, with all your circum- 
 locution! The man, doubtless, brings me 
 news of the arrival of the regiment I am ex- 
 pecting, and which should have been here 
 before. Let him come in." 
 
 44 That is true," said the captain, as he 
 went off. 
 
 During this conversation the General had 
 leaped from his bed, and dressed himself 
 with the promptness peculiar to soldiers. 
 
 All at once a great noise was heard in the 
 Plaza Mayor. The General went to a win- 
 dow, pulled aside a curtain, and looked out. 
 
 44 The Indians again!" he saivi; 44 how 
 can they dare to present themselves here ? 
 They must be ignorant of the arrival of the 
 dragoons. Such boldness is incomprehen- 
 sible." 
 
 He let the curtain fall, and turned away. 
 The soldier whom the captain had announc- 
 ed stood before him, waiting the General's 
 pleasure to question him. The General 
 rtarted on perceiving him. He was pale; 
 his unifonjt was torn and stained with mud, 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 long journey on foot 
 General wished to 
 
 as if he had made a 
 through brambles. The 
 clear up his doubts ; but, just as he was 
 opening his mouth to ask the man a ques- 
 tion, the door flew back, and several officers, 
 among whom was Captain Don Lopez, enter- 
 ed the room. 
 
 " General," the captain said, " make haste ! 
 You are expected in the council-hall. The 
 Indians have come for theansweryou prom- 
 ised to give them this morning. We have 
 not a moment to lose, if we wish to avoid 
 heavy disasters." 
 
 The General started. 
 
 " Gentlemen," he said in an ill-assured 
 voice, " it is our duty to watch over the safe- 
 ty of the population. I follow you." 
 
 And taking no further heed of the soldier 
 he had ordered to be sent in, he proceeded 
 toward the council-hall. 
 
 The disorder that prevailed without had at 
 length gained the interior of the palace. 
 Nothing was heard but shrieks or exclama- 
 tions of anger or terror. The Mexican offi- 
 cers assembled in the hall were turnultuous- 
 ly discussing the measures to be adopted in 
 order to save a contest and the town. The 
 entrance of the Governor produced a 
 healthy effect upon them, in so far that the 
 discussion suddenly ceased, and calmness 
 was restored. 
 
 General Ventura regretted in his heart hav- 
 ing counted on imaginary help, and not hav- 
 ing listened to the sensible advice of some 
 of his officers, who urged him the previous 
 day to satisfy the Indians by giving them 
 what they asked. In spite of the terror he 
 felt, however, his pride revolted at being 
 compelled to treat on equal terms with bar- 
 barians, and accept harsh conditions which 
 they would doubtless impose on him, in the 
 consciousness of having the upper hand. 
 
 When every one had given his opinion, the 
 Governor rose, and said in a trembling 
 voice : 
 
 " Cabal! eros, all of us here are men of 
 courage, and have displayed that quality in 
 many difficult circumstances. Certainly, if 
 the only thing was to sacrifice our lives to 
 save the hapless townsmen, we would not 
 hesitate to do so, for we are too well imbued 
 with the soundness of our duty to hesitate ; 
 but, unhappily, that sacrifice would not avail 
 to save those whom we wish before all to 
 protect. Lotus treat, then, with the barba- 
 rians, as we can not conquer them. Per- 
 haps in this way we shall succeed in protec- 
 ting our wives and children from the danger 
 that menaces them. In acting thus, under 
 the grave circumstances in which we find 
 ourselves, we shall at least have the consola- 
 tion of having done our duty, even if we do 
 not obtain all we desire." 
 
 Hearty applause greeted this harangue, 
 and the Governor, turning to the porter, 
 who stood motionless a,t the door, gave or- 
 ders to introduce the principal Indian 
 chiefs. 
 
 CHAPTER XL VI. 
 
 THE COMANCHES. 
 
 VALENTINE and his friends awoke at day- 
 break. The Comanches were already pre- 
 pared to start; and Unicorn, dressed in his 
 great war costume, presented himself to the 
 hunter. 
 
 "Is my brother going?" Valentine asked 
 him. 
 
 "Yes," the sachem answered. "I am re- 
 turning to receive the answer of the chief 
 of the pale-faces." 
 
 "What is my brother's intention, should 
 his demand be rejected?" 
 
 " They would not dare," Unicorn said, 
 haughtily. "If the chief, whom my broth- 
 er loves, is not delivered to me safe and 
 sound, the Spanish prisoners shall be tor- 
 tured on the plaza of Santa Fe, the town 
 burned and sacked. I have spoken. 
 
 In the mean time the Comanche warriors 
 had formed their ranks, and only awaited 
 the signal of the sachem to start. The 
 Spanish prisoners taken during the night 
 were placed in the center, bound and half- 
 naked. Suddenly a disturbance was heard 
 in the camp, and two men rushed panting 
 toward the spot where stood Valentine, the 
 sachem, and Curumilla. They were Don 
 Pablo and Father Seraphin. On reaching 
 their friends, they fell, almost in a fainting 
 state, on the ground. Valentine felt 
 strangely alarmed. 
 
 "Heaven be praised!" he exclaimed ; 
 " but what is the matter, father ? What 
 misfortune have you to announce to me ?" 
 
 'DonaCiara : " 
 
 " Well !" the hunter said, sharply. 
 
 "Was captured again last night by Red 
 Cedar, and torn from the refuge where I 
 placed her." 
 
 "Oh !" Valentine exclaimed, with concen- 
 trated fury, as he stamped his foot, "always 
 that demon that accursed Red Cedar. My 
 curses on him! But, take courage, father; 
 let us first save Don Miguel, and then I 
 swear to you that I will restore his daugh- 
 ter to him." 
 
 Unicorn advanced. 
 
 "Master of prayer," he said to Father Se- 
 raphin, in a soft and impressive voice, "your 
 heart is good. The Comanches love you. 
 Unicorn will help you. Pray to your God. 
 He will protect us in our researches, since 
 he is, as you say, so powerful." 
 
 Then the chief turned to Don Pablo, and 
 laid his hand firmly on his shoulder : 
 
 " Women weep," he said ; " men avenge 
 themselves. Has not my brother his rifle ?" 
 
 On feeling the Comanche's hand laid on 
 him, Don Pablo drew himself up, and fixed 
 his eyes on the chief, and said, in a broken 
 voice: 
 
 " Yes, you are right, chief. I am a man, 
 and will avenge myself." 
 
 " Good. My brother speaks well ; he is a 
 warrior." 
 
THE GENERAL NERVOUS. 
 
 95 
 
 crushed for a moment, had 
 regained all his energy. 
 
 "Where are you going?" he asked. 
 
 " To Santa Ft?, to deliver your father." 
 
 "I will go with you." 
 
 " Come, said Unicorn. 
 
 "No," Valentine interposed, authorita- 
 tively. " Your place is not there, Don Pa- 
 blo ; leave the Comanche warriors to act as 
 they please ; they do not need your help to 
 carry out their plans properly. Remain 
 with me." 
 
 "Command me, my friend," the young 
 man said, with resignation; "1 have per- 
 fect confidence in your experience." 
 
 "Good. You are reasonable. Brother," 
 he added, turning to the chief, "you can 
 start. The sun is already high in the hori- 
 zon ; may heaven grant that you may suc- 
 ceed !" 
 
 Unicorn gave the signal for departure. 
 The Cornanches uttered their war-yell, and 
 started at a quick pace. 
 
 Curumilla then rose, and wrapped himself 
 in his buffalo-robe; Valentine watching him, 
 inquiringly. 
 
 "Does my brother leave us ?" he said. 
 
 "Yes," the Araucano answered, curtly. 
 
 " Where is my brother going?" 
 
 "To look for the camp of Red Cedar's 
 miners," the Indian replied, with a cunning 
 smile. 
 
 "Good," Valentine said. "My brother 
 forgets nothing." 
 
 Curumilla bowed gracefully, and proceed- 
 ed in the direction of the Paso, soon disap- 
 pearing in the windings of the road. Valen- 
 tine turned to his friends, and said : 
 
 "Tell me all about Dona Clara being car- 
 ried off again, for I must have the fullest 
 details." 
 
 We will leave the three now conversing, 
 and join the Comanches and Unicorn again. 
 
 When the Comanches reached the Plaza 
 Mayor, opposite the palace, they halted. 
 At an order from Unicorn, the prisoners 
 were completely stripped of their clothing 
 and placed some distance in front of the 
 first rank of Indians, each of them having at 
 his side a fully-armed Indian ready to massa- 
 cre him mercilessly at the slightest sign from 
 Unicorn. When the preparations were 
 completed, the Spider, the chief who had 
 already performed the duty of flag of truce, 
 pranced up to the gate of the palace, and 
 demanded speech with the Governor. 
 
 The officer of the guard, wiio was no 
 other than Don Lopez, politely requested 
 the Indian warrior to wait a few moments, 
 and then proceeded in all haste to General 
 Ventura. We have seen what took place, 
 and, after a delay of nearly half an hour, 
 Captain Don Lopez returned. After sonic 
 preliminary explanations, he informed the 
 Spider that the General, surrounded by his 
 staff, was awaiting, in the hall of audience, 
 the sachem of the nation and his three prin- 
 cipal warriors. 
 
 The Spider communicated this answer to 
 Unicorn, who gave a nod of assent, dis- 
 mounted, and entered the palace. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 NEGOTIATIONS. 
 
 WHEN Unicorn entered the council-cham- 
 ber, preceded by Captain Lopez, and fol- 
 lowed by three Indian chiefs, the deepest 
 silence prevailed among the Spanish officers 
 assembled to meet him. The Governor, 
 seated in a chair placed in the center of the 
 hall, was looking nervously round him. He 
 answered by a nod the ceremonious bow of 
 the Comanches. The sachem draped him- 
 self in his buffalo-robe, with majestic grace, 
 drew his head up proudly, and walked to- 
 ward General Ventura. On coming within 
 four paces of the Governor, Unicorn stopped, 
 crossed his arms on his chest, and took the 
 word. 
 
 "I salute my father!" he said, in a loud 
 and fierce voice. " I have come, as was 
 agreed on yesterday, to fetch the answer he 
 owes me." 
 
 "Chief," the General answered, in any 
 thing but a firm voice, "your behaviour 
 naturally surprises me. To my knowledge 
 the Spaniards are not at war with your na- 
 tion; the whites have not done anything of 
 which you have a right to complain. For 
 what reason do you come, then, against the 
 sworn faith, and when nothing authorizes 
 you, to invade a defenseless town, and in- 
 terfere in matters that onJy concern our- 
 selves ?" 
 
 " My father does not answer my request," 
 the chief said. " He is mistaken ; we have 
 a cause, the imprisonment of Don Miguel 
 Zarate, who, himself an Indian, has never 
 belied his origin. Hence, my father must 
 no longer ask by what right I am here, for 
 that is perfectly established. When I came 
 here yesterday, my father gave me to under- 
 stand that my propositions would be accept- 
 ed, and the 'exchange of prisoners carried 
 out." 
 
 "It is possible, chief," the General re- 
 plied; "but with reflection, your proposi- 
 tions have appeared to me unacceptable." 
 
 "Wan!" the Indian said, though not 
 testifying his surprise otherwise. 
 
 "Yes, the General continued, ( growing 
 animated, " I should be ashamed to grant 
 them, for I should have the appearance of 
 only yielding to threats. No, it can not be. 
 The two gentlemen you claim are guilty, 
 and shall die ; and if you venture to oppose 
 the execution of the" just sentence of the 
 court, we will defend ourselves. Honor 
 forbids me subscribing those disgraceful 
 proposals which you did not fear to lay be- 
 fore me." 
 
 "Is it really honor that has dictated my 
 father's answer?" the Indian asked, ironi- 
 
96 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 cally. "I can but withdraw; but before 
 doing so, I will give him news. The war- 
 riors whom my father expected to arrive to 
 his aid this day have been dispersed by my 
 young men, as the autumn breeze sweeps 
 away the leaves. They will not come." 
 
 A murmur of surprise, almost terror, ran 
 through the assembly. The sachem let the 
 long folds of his bufialo-robe fall back, tore 
 from his girdle the bleeding scalp that hang 
 there, and threw it at the General's feet. 
 
 "That," he said, gloomily, "is the scalp 
 of the man who commanded my father's 
 warriors." 
 
 A shudder of terror ran round the room 
 at the sight of the scalp ; the General felt 
 the small dose of courage that had still ani- 
 mated him oozing out. 
 
 " Chief," he exclaimed, in a trembling 
 voice, " is it possible you have done that ?" 
 
 " I have done it," the sachem answered, 
 coldly. " Now, farewell. I am about to 
 join my young men." 
 
 "A few moments longer, chief," the 
 General said; "perhaps we are nearer an 
 understanding than you suppose." 
 
 "Here is my last word," the Comanche 
 said. " I insist on the two prisoners be- 
 ing handed over to me." 
 
 " They shall be." 
 
 "We shall see. My warriors and myself 
 will remain on the square. If, within an 
 hour, the pale-faces are not free, the prison- 
 ers I hold will be pitilessly massacred, and 
 the town plundered. I have spoken." 
 
 Unicorn left the hall, mounted his horse 
 again, and calmly awaited the fulfillment of 
 the promise made him. 
 
 When the Indians had left the council- 
 chamber, the Mexicans rose tunmltuously, 
 for each feared the execution of the chiefs 
 threats. When the Governor saw that his 
 officers were as terrified as himself, he re- 
 assumed his coolness. 
 
 " Caballeros," he said, "you have heard 
 this man. Will you allow yourselves to be 
 thus braved in the heart of the town by a 
 handful of scoundrels ? To arms, Cabal- 
 leros, and let us die bravely." 
 
 This sudden warlike order seemed to his 
 hearers so unusual, and before all so inop- 
 portune, that they pressed him to accept 
 without delay the proposals dictated by the 
 sachem. 
 
 This was all the Governor wanted. He 
 had the minutes pf the council at once drawn 
 up, and when it was signed by all present, 
 he put it in his pocket. 
 
 " As you insist," he said, "I will myself 
 proceed to the prison, in order to avoid any 
 rnisunderstanding,and have the doors opened 
 for Don Miguel Zarate and General Ibanez." 
 
 The General, glad in his heart at having 
 got out of the scrape so well, left the Cabil- 
 do, and walked across the square to the 
 prison, which stood on the opposite side. 
 
 Don Miguel and General Ibanez, on this 
 
 day, according to their wont, had risen at 
 sunrise, and then, with incredible coolness, 
 began conversing on indifferent topics. 
 Suddenly a great noise was heard in the 
 prison; a clang of arms reached the prison- 
 ers' ears, and hurried footsteps approached 
 the rooms in which they were confined. 
 They listened. 
 
 A key creaked in the lock, and the door 
 opened. The two prisoners fell back in 
 surprise on seeing the General, who rushed 
 into the cell, followed by two or three offi- 
 cers. 
 
 " What the deuce do you want here, Gov- 
 ernor?" Ibanez exclaimed. 
 
 General Ventura raised his head, fixed on 
 the prisoners eyes sparkling with joy, and 
 said, in a panting voice : 
 
 "My friends, I would come myself to tell 
 you that you are free." 
 
 The prisoners fell back in amazement. 
 
 "What!" General Ibanez exclaimed, "are 
 you speaking seriously ?" 
 
 Don Miguel attentively looked at the Gov- 
 ernor, trying to read in his face the reasons 
 of his conduct. 
 
 " Come away," the Governor said eagerly, 
 "do not remain a moment longer in this 
 pestilential den." 
 
 " Pardon me," Don Miguel said, coldly, 
 " but, with your permission, we will remain 
 a few moments longer in it." 
 
 " Why so ?" General Ventura asked, open- 
 ing his eyes to their fullest extent. 
 
 "The care of our honor does not permit 
 us to accept a liberation which might stain 
 it; hence, we shall not leave this prison un- 
 til you have given us an explanation." 
 
 The Governor hardly knew whether he 
 was on his head or his heels ; he had never 
 before had to deal with such obstinate pris- 
 oners. 
 
 " Gentlemen," he said, with feigned admi- 
 ration, " I understand what nobleness there 
 is in your scruples, and am happy to see that 
 I was not mistaken in the greatness of your 
 character. I will lay no conditions on you ; 
 you are free, purely and simply. Here are 
 the documents connected with your trial, 
 the proofs produced against you ; take them 
 and destroy them, and accept my sincere 
 apologies for all that has passed." 
 
 While saying this, the Governor drew from 
 his breast an enormous bundle of papers, 
 which he offered Don Miguel. The latter 
 declined them with an air of disgust ; but, 
 General Ibanez, less scrupulous, eagerly 
 clutched them, looked through them, to see 
 that the Governor was not deceiving him, 
 and then threw them into the brasero, stand- 
 ing in the middle of the room. In less than 
 four minutes, all was consumed. 
 
 "One word more, by your leave," the ha- 
 cicndero remarked. " On leaving this prison, 
 where are we to go ?" 
 
 "Wherever you please, gentlemen. I do 
 not even ask your word ol honor to enter 
 into no further conspiracy." 
 
THE STRANGER. 
 
 Good, sir," Don Miguel said, holding 
 
 t bis hand to General Ventura, "your 
 duct affects ine thanks." 
 Come, come," the Governor said, to 
 e his embarrassment on receiving this so 
 
 -deserved praise. 
 
 The prisoners no longer hesitated to fol- 
 low him. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the news of Don 
 Miguel's deliverance had spread through the 
 town with the rapidity of a train of gun- 
 powder; windows and roof* were tilled with 
 men, women, and children, whose eyes, fixed 
 on tLe prison, awaited the moment of Don 
 Miguel's appearance. When he did so, tre- 
 mendous shouts greeted him. Unicorn 
 walked up to the Governor. 
 
 "My father has kept his promise," he 
 said, gravely. "I will keep mine; the 
 white prisoners are free ; I depart." 
 
 The Governor listened to these words with 
 a blush; the sachem returned to the head 
 of his war-party, which rapidly retired. 
 
 On reaching the gate, General Ventura 
 bowed courteously to the two gentlemen, 
 and hurried into his palace. 
 
 "What do you think of all this?" the 
 haciendero asked his friend. 
 
 "Hum!" General Ibanez muttered, "the 
 Governor's conduct seems to me rather 
 queer; but, no matter, we are free. I con- 
 fess to you, my friend, that I should have 
 no objection to go a little distance from this 
 place, the air of which, despite General Ven- 
 tura's protestations, appears to me remark- 
 ably unhealthy for us." 
 
 At this moment, and ere Don Miguel 
 could answer, the General felt a slight touch 
 on his shoulders ; he turned, and saw Curu- 
 milla before him, with a smiling face. Don 
 Miguel and the General suppressed a cry of 
 joy at the sight of the grave and excellent 
 Ir-dian. 
 
 "Come!" he said to them, laconically. 
 
 They followed him. On reaching a small 
 street near the sqnare, and which was nearly 
 deserted, Curumilla led them to a house be- 
 fore which he stopped. 
 
 " It is here," he said, as he tapped twice. 
 
 The door opened, and they entered a 
 courtyard, in which were three ready-saddled 
 horses, held by a groom, which they at once 
 mounted. 
 
 "Thanks, brother," the haciendero said, 
 warmly, as he pressed the chief's hand; 
 " but how did you learn our deliverance ?" 
 
 The Araueauo smiled pleasantly. 
 
 "Let us go," he said, making no other 
 answer. 
 
 "Where to?" Don Miguel asked. 
 
 "TojoinKoutouepi." 
 
 The three men started at full speed. Ten 
 minutes later they were out of the town, 
 and galloping across the plain. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 THE MEETING. 
 
 ON reaching a point where the trail they 
 were following formed a species of fork, Cu- 
 rumilla stopped, and the two gentlemen im- 
 itated him. 
 
 " That is your road," the Araucano chief 
 said. "At the end of that path you will see 
 Koutonepi's bivouac tire. I must leave you 
 here." 
 
 After uttering these words, Curumilla 
 turned his horse and started, giving them a 
 parting wave of the hand. 
 
 The two gentlemen went on for nearly 
 half an hour without exchanging a syllable ; 
 but, just as they turned a corner in the path, 
 they saw a horseman in front apparently 
 waiting for them. The Mexicans examined 
 him attentively, but a black velvet mask 
 
 Srevented them distinguishing his features, 
 n coming within five yards of him, they 
 stopped. 
 
 " I salute you, Don.Miguel Zarate, and you, 
 General Ibanez," the stranger said. " I am 
 happy to see you out of the claws of that, 
 worthy General Ventura." 
 
 "Friend," Don Miguel made answer, " I 
 thank you for the kind words you address to 
 me, and which can only come from a friend's 
 lips. I should be pleased if you would take 
 off the mask that conceals your features, so 
 that I may recognize you." 
 
 " Gentlemen, if I removed my mask you 
 would be disappointed, for my features are 
 unfamiliar to you. Do not be angry with me 
 for keeping it on ; but, be assured I am 
 your friend." 
 
 The two Mexicans bowed courteously, 
 and the stranger went on. 
 
 " I knew that so soon as you were free you 
 would hasten to join that worthy hunter 
 Valentine. I placed myself here where you 
 must infallibly pass, in order to make you a 
 communication of the utmost importance, 
 which interests you extremely." 
 
 " Speak, sir!" said Don Miguel. " I am 
 anxious to learn the news of which you 
 have condescended to be the bearer." 
 
 The stranger shook his head sadly, and 
 there was a moment's silence. At length he 
 spoke again. 
 
 "Two months have elapsed, Don Miguel, 
 since, through the treachery of Red Cedar, 
 you were arrested and made prisoner at the 
 Paso del Norte. Many events of which yon 
 are ignorant have occurred since then. On 
 the very night of your arrest, at the moment 
 you laid down your arms, your daughter was 
 carried off by Red Cedar." 
 
 "My daughter!" the haciendero exclaim- 
 ed in anguish. 
 
 "Yes, the stranger continued; "and 
 after long researches, a man, providentially 
 aided by Father Seraphin, at length succeed- 
 ed last night in taking Dona Clara from her 
 abductors : but Red Cedar, advised by some 
 extraordinary chance, entered the house 
 
08 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 where the maiden had sought shelter, and 
 carried her off again." 
 
 " Oh ! I will avenge myself on that man !" 
 the haciendero shouted passionately. 
 
 " You will find your son and Father Sera- 
 phin with Valentine," added the mask. 
 " Red Cedar intends to start this evening, at 
 the head of a band of miners, to go into 
 the deserts of the Rio Gila, in search of a 
 placer, which his accomplice, Fray Ambro- 
 sio, has indicated to him. I know not with 
 what design Red Cedar is taking your daugh- 
 ter with him into the desert." 
 
 " I will follow him, were it fora thousand 
 leagues," Don Miguel said, resolutely. 
 " Thanks to"you for having instructed me so 
 fully. But, whence comes the interest you 
 take In me so gratuitously, since, asy ou say, 
 I do not know you?" 
 
 " You shall learn at a later date, Don Mig- 
 uel. Now, before I leave you, one last word 
 an earnest warning." 
 
 " I listen attentively." 
 
 " Do not tell any one not even the French 
 hunter, not even your son of our meeting. 
 When you reach the far west, if you see be- 
 fore you, at one of your bivouacs, a piece of 
 mahogany bearing the impress of a horse's 
 shoe, rise at midnight, and lea-ve the camp, 
 not letting any one see you. When you 
 have gone one hundred paces in the tall 
 grass, whistle thrice : a similar whistle will 
 answer you, and then you will learn many 
 things important for you to know, but which 
 I can not tell you to-day. Farewell." 
 
 " Farewell. I will do what you tell me." 
 
 The stranger dug his spurs into his horse's 
 sides and the animal started off as if im- 
 pelled by a tornado. 
 
 "Who can that man be?" said Don Mig- 
 uel. 
 
 "I know no more than you do," his 
 friend answered, "but I assure you I will 
 know if it be possible." 
 
 " What ! do you intend to come with me ?" 
 
 " If you will accept my services," the Gen- 
 eral said, gayly. 
 
 " Most heartily," Don Miguel answered, 
 warmly. 
 
 "That is settled, then ; and I swear we 
 will deliver Dona Clara." 
 
 "May Heaven grant it," the haciendero 
 said, sadly. 
 
 A quarter of an hour later the two friends 
 reached the Trail-Hunter's bivouac. 
 
 Valentine had been warned, nearly an 
 hour previously, by Unicorn, of the negotia- 
 tions with the Governor of Santa Fe, and 
 the immediate liberation of the prisoners. 
 So soon as he noticed their approach he- 
 walked to meet them, followed by Don Pa- 
 blo. 
 
 A few hours were spent, after the first 
 greetings were over, in a conference, of 
 which the poor child, so audaciously carried 
 off, was the sole subject. Valentine drew 
 up with his friends the pTan of the campaign 
 
 against Red Cedar, which was so daring 
 that it would have made the most resolute 
 men nervous ; but the free adventurers who 
 were about to carry it out, in no way feared 
 the mysterious dangers of the desert which 
 they were going to confront. Father Sera- 
 phin had taken leave of his friends and found 
 Unicorn, with whom he wished to go to the 
 Comanche villages, in the hope of spread- 
 ing the light of the gospel there. Toward 
 evening Curumilla arrived. Not uttering a 
 word, he sat down by the fire, took his calu- 
 met from his girdle and began smoking. 
 Valentine laid his hand on his shoulder. 
 
 "Well?" he said to him. 
 
 "Curumilla has seen them." 
 
 " Good ; are they numerous ?" 
 
 " Ten times the number of fingers ou my 
 two hands, and one more." 
 
 "Zounds!" Valentine exclaimed. "We 
 shall have a tough job in that case. Do you 
 know when they will start ?" 
 
 "This evening, when the new moon 
 rises." 
 
 "Ah, ah; I read their plan," the hunter 
 said. "They intend crossing the ford of 
 the Toro before day." 
 
 Curumilla bowed his head in affirmation. 
 
 "That is true," Valentine remarked; 
 " once the ford is passed they will be in the 
 desert, and have comparatively nothing to 
 fear, or at least they suppose so. I must 
 confess," he added, addressing his friends, 
 " that Red Cedar is a remarkably clever 
 scoundrel; nothing escapes him, but this 
 time he has a tough adversary." 
 
 "What shall we do?" Don Miguel asked. 
 
 "Sleep," Valentine answered; "we have 
 still several hours; before us, so let us profit 
 by them." 
 
 Curumilla had slipped away, but now re- 
 turned, bringing with him two rities, pistols, 
 and knives. 
 
 "My brothers had no weapons," he said, 
 as he laid his load before the Mexicans. 
 
 The latter thanked him heartily ; for ow- 
 ing to the foresight of Curumilla, who 
 thought of every thing, they could now en- 
 ter the desert boldly. Two minutes later the 
 five men were fast asleep, and we will take 
 advantage of their slumber to return to Red 
 Cedar, whom we left on the point of climb- 
 ing through Dona Clara's window, while 
 Fray Ambrosio and Andres Garote were 
 watching at either end of the street. 
 
 At one bound the bandit was in the room, 
 after breaking open the window with a blow 
 of his fist. Clara, suddenly aroused, leaped 
 from the bed, uttering fearful cries at the 
 sight of the terrible apparition before her. 
 
 "Silence," Red Cedar said to her; "one 
 cry more, and 1 kill you." 
 
 The bandit gagged the poor child with the 
 cloak that lay on the bed, threw her over 
 his shoulder, and clambered out of the win- 
 dow again. So soon as he put foot on the 
 ground, he whistled lightly for his comrades 
 to rejoin him, which they did immediately, 
 
AX EVENING IN DISGUISE. 
 
 99 
 
 wit 
 
 trying his burden, he proceeded 
 them in the direction of the Rancho 
 
 el Coyote. 
 
 During the walk, which was not a long one, 
 
 e bandits did not meet a soul. Andres 
 ened the door and lit a candle ; the ruffians 
 
 tered, and the door was carefully bolted 
 in. Ked Cedar carried Clara, who was in 
 a naif-fainting state, to her room, removed 
 the gag' and then returned to the bur. 
 
 "There," he said, with satisfaction, "that 
 is all right; the sheep has returned to the 
 fold. Now listen to my orders," he con- 
 tinued, u and try and carry them out to the 
 letter; or if not, your roguish hides will 
 bear the blame." 
 
 The three men bowed silently. 
 
 "You, Nathan," he went on, "will come 
 with me ; and you others, bear this carefully 
 in mind : Our enemies will never suppose 
 that I have made such a mistake as to bring 
 my prisoner back here; for that is so ab- 
 surd, that the idea will never enter into 
 their heads. To-morrow, so soon as the 
 moon rises, you will make the girl put on an 
 Indian dress, and come to me at the camp. 
 Immediately after your arrival we shall 
 start. Good-by tiil to-morrow." 
 
 "Till to-morrow," they answered. 
 
 The squatter and his son left the raueho. 
 They walked for a long time, with slung ri- 
 de, not exchanging a word, but listening to 
 the slightest noise and sounding the dark- 
 ness with their tiger-cat eyes. All at once 
 they heard the firm footfall of a man coming 
 toward them. They cocked their rifles, 
 ready for any emergency. A voice was then 
 heard, though the person to whom it be- 
 longed was invisible. 
 
 ""My brothers must not fire; they would 
 kill a friend." 
 
 The words were Apache a language well 
 known to the squatters. 
 
 Red Cedar replied in the same dialect, 
 " There are no friends in the shadow of the 
 desert. My brother must get out of my 
 path, or I will kill him like a coyote." 
 
 " Is it thus," the Indian continued, " that 
 the ' man-eater ' receives the guide whom 
 Stanapat, the great chief of the Apaches, 
 sends him ? In that case, good-by. I will 
 retire." 
 
 "One moment," the squatter said, sharp- 
 ly, as he lowered his rifle, and made his son 
 a sign to follow his example. " I could not 
 guess who you were. Advance without 
 fear, and be welcome, brother, for I was 
 anxiously expecting you." 
 
 The Indian stepped forward. He wore 
 the costume and characteristic paint of the 
 Apache warriors; in a worn, he was so well 
 disguised, that Valentine himself could not 
 have recognized in him his friend, Eagle- 
 wing, the Chief of the Coras, though it was 
 he. 
 
 Red Cedar, delighted at the arrival of his 
 guide, received him in the most affable man- 
 lier. He had long been acquainted with 
 
 Stanapat, the most ferocious warrior of all 
 the Indian nations that traverse the immense 
 regions of the Rio Gila. After several ques- 
 tions, which Eagle-wing answered without 
 hesitation or once tripping, Red Cedar, con- 
 vinced that he was really the man tin; 
 Apache chief had promised to send him, dis- 
 missed all doubt, and conversed with him in 
 the most friendly spirit. 
 
 " What is my brother's name ?" he asked, 
 in conclusion. 
 
 "The Heart of Stone!" Eagle-winff re- 
 plied. 
 
 " Good !" the squatter said ; " my brother 
 has a grand name. He must be a renowned 
 warrior in his tribe." 
 
 A short time after, the three men reached 
 the camp of the miners, established in a 
 formidable position on the top of a rock 
 called the Black Mountain. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 FORDING THE DEL NORTE. 
 
 THE squatter's two accomplices passed 
 the day quietly in playing, on credit, at 
 monte. No one came to disturb them, or 
 cast an indiscreet glance into this infamous 
 den. About nine in the evening, the moon 
 rose magnificently on a deep blue sky, 
 studded with brilliant stars. 
 
 "I fancy it is time to get ready," Fray 
 Ambrosio said. 
 
 " You are right," answered Andres, as he 
 hid his greasy cards in his boot, and pro- 
 ceeded to the room in which Clara was con- 
 fined. She followed him out, weeping bit- 
 terly. 
 
 "Come, come," the ranchero said to her, 
 " dry your tears; we do not mean you any 
 harm." 
 
 The maiden made no response to this con- 
 solation ; she allowed herself to be disguised 
 unresistingly, but still continued to weep. 
 
 When the gambusino had completed the 
 maiden's Indian toilet, he perfected the dis- 
 guise by throwing a zarape over her shoul- 
 ders. Dona Clara was placed on a horse; 
 Andres and the monk also mounted, and 
 they then started at a gallop in the direction 
 of the Black Mountain. 
 
 Red Cedar had lost no time, and all was 
 ready for departure. The new-comers did 
 not even dismount, but so soon as they were 
 sighted, the caravan, composed, as we have 
 stated, of some hundred and twenty resolute 
 men, after forming in Indian tile, started in 
 the direction of the prairies, having first 
 prudently detached two scouts to watch the 
 neighborhood. 
 
 Soon they reached the banks of the Del 
 Norte, or Ford del Toro. 
 
 The miners managed to get across safely. 
 The only persons left on the bank were Red 
 Cedar, Eagle-wing, the guide, and Dona 
 Clara. 
 
100 
 
 THE TtiAIL-HUHTEK. 
 
 "It is our turn now, Heart of Stone," 
 the squatter said, addressing Eagle-wing; 
 " you see that our men are in safety, and 
 only await us to set out again." 
 
 "The squaw first," the Indian replied, 
 laconically. 
 
 The maiden boldly made her horse enter 
 the river, and the two men followed. Dona 
 Clara's horse was not following- the line 
 traced by the ford, but was turning to the 
 left, as if carried away by the current. 
 
 The squatter crossed without any acci- 
 dent, and reached the bank in safety. 
 
 The Coras sachem had urged his steed 
 in pursuit of Dona Clara's, and both were 
 following the same line down the stream, 
 the former striving to catch up to the lat- 
 ter. Suddenly the Coras' horse gave a leap, 
 while uttering a snort of pain, and began 
 madly beating the water with its forelegs, 
 while the river was tinged with blood around 
 it. The chief, perceiving that his horse was 
 mortally wounded, leaned over the side, ready 
 to leap off. At this moment, a hideous face 
 appeared flush with the water, and a hand 
 was stretched out to grasp him. With that 
 imperturbable coolness that never deserts 
 the Indians, even under the most critical 
 circumstances, the Coras seized his toma- 
 hawk, split his enemy's skull open, and 
 glided into the river. 
 
 A formidable war-yell was at this moment 
 heard from the forest, and shots were fired 
 from both banks at once, illumining the 
 scene with their fugitive flashes. A score 
 
 of red-skins rUshed on the miners, and ft 
 fight commenced. 
 
 The combat was short ; the red-skins, who 
 were only a party of marauding Pawnees, 
 disappeared as rapidly as they had come. 
 
 So soon as the Indians were routed, Red 
 Cedar bent an eager glance up the river ; 
 on that side the struggle was also over, and 
 Eagle- wing, mounted behind the young lady, 
 was guiding her horse to the bank, which it 
 soon reached. 
 
 " Well ?" the squatter asked. 
 
 " The Pawnees are cowardly coyotes," the 
 Coras answered, pointing to the human scalp 
 that hung from his girdle ; they fly like old 
 women, so soon as they see the war-plumes 
 of my nation." 
 
 "Good!" the squatter said, gleefully, 
 " my brother is a great warrior; he has a 
 friend." 
 
 The Coras bowed with a smile of indescri- 
 bable meaning. His object was gained ; he 
 had acquired the confidence of the man he 
 meant to destroy. Dona Clara, Ellen, and 
 the squatter's wife were placed in the center 
 of the caravan, and the band started again. 
 
 An hour later, a seeond party of horse- 
 men also crossed the Del Norte. It was 
 much less numerous than the first, as it con- 
 sisted of only five men, but they were Val- 
 entine, Curumilla, Don Miguel, his son, 
 and General Ibanez. The real struggle wab 
 about to commence : behind them they left 
 the civilized world, to find themselves face 
 to face on the desert with their enemies. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 For the further career of Red Cedar, the Prairie Outlaw; Valentine, the Trail-Hunter; 
 Curumilla, the Indian chief ; and the other characters of this thrilling tale, in their wild 
 adventures on the great American desert, see THE PIRATES OF THE PRAIRIE; or, 
 THE BANDIT AT BAY, American Tales, Second Series, No. 3, Ready December 29th. 
 
 The works of Aimard, producing as they do a rapid succession of events, makes each 
 chapter almost a complete story in itself, so strange, startling, and unexpected as to en- 
 chain the reader's attention like a wild, weird panorama, making them the most satisfac- 
 tory Novels ever published in America, of Western Indian, Border, and Prairie Life. 
 
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