L N 
 
 TuE TALE OF THE FAR WEST. 
 
 BY 
 
 I GUSTAYE AIMARD, 
 
 f AUTHOR OP " THE PRAIRIE FLOWER," " THE INDIAN SCOUT," " PIRATES OF THE 
 
 PRAIRIES," " THE TRAPPER'S DAUGHTER," " THE TIGER SLAYER," " THE 
 
 GOLD SEEKERS," "THE INDIAN CHIEF," "THE BORDER RIFLES," 
 
 "THE FREEBOOTERS," "THE WHITE SCALPER," " THE TRAPPERS 
 
 OF THE ARKANSAS," "THE CHIEF OF THE AUCAS," "THE 
 
 RED TRACK," "THE LAST OF THE INC AS," ETC., ETC. 
 
 nc 
 
 COMPLETE AND UNABRIDGED EDITION, 
 
 J)f)Ua&elpf)ia: 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 
 
 306 CHESTNUT STREET. 
 
A^s 
 
 
 
 PZs 
 
 s 
 
 ~ 
 
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 THE present volume of Aimard's Indian Tales is devoted to the 
 earlier adventures of those hunters, whose acquaintance the reader 
 has formed, I trust with pleasure, in the preceding series. It 
 does not become me to say any thing further in its favor, than that 
 die sustained interest of the narrative, which has been regarded as 
 the charm of stories referring to life in the desert and prairie, has 
 r.ot been departed from in this instance. The stories themselves 
 biipply an innate proof of the writer's correctness to Nature, 
 and, in truth, many of the scenes are so startling that they must 
 be the result of personal observation. 
 
 In conclusion, I may be permitted to thank the Press gene 
 rally for the kindly aid they have afforded me in making the 
 English translation of Aimard's volumes known to the British readino- 
 
 . o 
 
 public, the hearty way in which they have recognized the 
 
 3 of the previous series. It would be an easy task to col 
 lect paragraphs, expressing a belief that Aimard is second to 
 none of the writers who have hitherto described Indian life and 
 scenery; but I prefer to rest my hopes of success on the inhe 
 rent qualities of his stories. 
 
 LASCELLES WKAXALL. 
 
 (15) 
 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 I. The Virgin Forest 19 
 
 II. The Contest 22 
 
 III. Don Miguel Zarate 25 
 
 IV. The Peccaris 27 
 
 V. The Wound 30 
 
 VI The Squatter's Shanty 34 
 
 VII. The Rangers 37 
 
 VIII. The Valley of the Buffalo 40 
 
 IX. The Assassination 43 
 
 X. The Sachem of the Coras 47 
 
 XI. Conversation 50 
 
 XII. El Meson 53 
 
 XIII. Red Cedar 57 
 
 XIV. The Two Hunters 61 
 
 XV. Fray Ambrosio 64 
 
 XVI. Two Varieties of Villains 67 
 
 XVII. El Canon Del Buitre 70 
 
 XVIII. Father Seraphin 74 
 
 XIX. Unicorn 77 
 
 XX. The Hunt of Wild Horses ., 81 
 
 XXI. The Surprise 84 
 
 XXII The Meeting 88 
 
 XXIII. The Abduction 92 
 
 XXIV. The Revolt 95 
 
 XXV El Rancho del Coyote 98 
 
 (17) 
 
18 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER pAOg 
 
 XXVI.The Cuchillada '. 102 
 
 XXVIL The Hunters 105 
 
 XXVIIL Sunbeam 108 
 
 XXIX. The Adoption -112 
 
 XXX. The Missionary 115 
 
 XXXI. The Interview 118 
 
 XXXII. The Prison 121 
 
 XXXIIL The Embassy 124 
 
 XXXIY. The Presentation 127 
 
 XXXV. Psychological 129 
 
 XXXVI. Diamond Cut Diamond 131 
 
 XXXVII. A Stormy Discussion 135 
 
 XXXVIII. The Mystery 138 
 
 XXXIX. The Ambuscade 141 
 
 XL. A Friendly Discussion 143 
 
 XLL Nathan 146 
 
 XLIL The Wounded Man 149 
 
 XLIII. Indian Diplomacy 151 
 
 XLIV. The Stranger 154 
 
 XLV. General Ventura 157 
 
 XLVL The Comanches 160 
 
 XL VII. Negotiations 162 
 
 XLVIII. Free 164 
 
 XLIX. The Meeting 167 
 
 L. Dona Clara HO 
 
 LI. El Vado delToro 173 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 BY GUST A YE AIMARD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE VIRGIN FOREST. 
 
 IN Mexico the population is only di 
 vided 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 over 
 thrown this country since the declara 
 tion of its independence. Why this is 
 50 is simple enough. The intellectual 
 .power is in the hands of a small num 
 ber, and all the revolutions are effected 
 by this turbulent and ambitious mi 
 nority ; whence it results that the coun 
 try is governed by the most complete 
 ^military despotism, instead of being a 
 'free republic. 
 
 Still the inhabitants of the States of 
 Sonora, Chihuahua, and Texas have re 
 tained, even to the present day, that 
 stern, savage, and energetic physiogno 
 my 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, hardens the muscles 
 of the inhabitants, cleanses their blood, 
 purifies their hearts, and renders them 
 19 
 
 picked men, who are distinguished for 
 their courage, their intelligence, and 
 their profound love of liberty. 
 
 The Apaches, who originally inhabi 
 ted the greater portion of New Mexico, 
 have gradually fallen back before the 
 axe of the pioneers ; and after retiring 
 into the immense deserts that cover the 
 triangle formed by the Rio Gila, the 
 Del Norte, and the Colorado, they ra 
 vage almost with impunity the Mexican 
 frontiers, plundering, firing, and devas 
 tating all they meet with on their pas 
 sage. 
 
 The inhabitants of the countries we 
 alluded to above, held in respect by 
 these ever-shifting savages, are in a state 
 of continual warfare with them, always 
 ready to fight, fortifying their haciendas, 
 and only travelling with weapons in 
 their hands. 
 
 El Paso del Norte may be regarded 
 as the outpost of the civilized portion 
 of Mexico. Beyond that, to the north 
 and north-west, extend the vast until i- 
 ed plains of Chihuahua, the bolson of 
 Mapimi, and the arid deserts of the Rio 
 Gila. These immense deserts, known 
 by the name of Apacheria, are still as 
 little investigated as they were at the 
 close of the eighteenth century. El 
 Paso del Norte owes its name to its 
 
2U 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 situation near a ford of the Rio Del 
 Norte. It is the oldest of all the 
 New Mexican settlements, and its esta 
 blishment dates back to the close of the 
 sixteenth century. The present settle 
 ment is scattered for a distance of about 
 ten miles along the banks of the Del 
 Norte, and contains four thousand in- 
 . habitants at the most. The plaza, or 
 village of the Paso, is situated at the 
 head of the valley : at the other extre 
 mity is the Presidio of San Elezario. 
 All the interval is occupied by a con 
 tinuous line of white, flat-roofed houses, 
 buried in gardens, and surrounded by 
 vineyards. About a mile above the 
 ford the stream is dammed up, and led 
 by a canal into the valley, which it 
 waters. Apacheria begins only a few 
 miles from this settlement. 
 
 It is easily seen that the foot of civi 
 lized man has only trodden timidly and 
 at rare intervals this thoroughly primi 
 tive country, in which nature, free to 
 develope herself under the omnipotent 
 eye of the creator, assumes an aspect 
 of incredible beauty and fancifulness. 
 
 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, mount 
 ed on a tall, half-tamed steed, started at 
 a canter from the plaza, and after a few 
 minutes of hesitation, employed in re 
 alising 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, pro 
 ceeded toward the dense forest that 
 flashed on the horizon. 
 
 This horseman was dressed in the 
 costume generally adopted on the fron 
 tiers, 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, allow 
 ing a glimpse of an elegantly-worked 
 shirt, the collar of which was fastened 
 by a loosely-knotted black silk handker 
 chief, the ends passed through a dia 
 mond ring. He wore green cloth breech 
 es, -trimmed 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, called botas vaqueras, attached 
 below the knee by a silver garter. On 
 his heels enormous spurs clanked. A 
 manga, 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 toquilla passed twice 
 or thrice round it. 
 
 His steed was caparisoned with 
 graceful luxuriousness, which heighten 
 ed all its beautiful points : a rich saddle 
 of embossed leather, adorned with mas 
 sive silver, on the back of which the 
 zarape was fastened ; wide Moorish sil 
 ver stirrups, and handsome water 
 bottles at the saddle-bow ; while an 
 elegant anquera, made of open-work 
 leather, and decorated with small steel 
 chains, entirely covered 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 machete 
 hung down his right side, two pistols 
 were passed through his girdle, the 
 handle of a long knife protruded from 
 his right boot, and he held a superbly 
 damascened rifle across the saddle in 
 front of him. 
 
 Bending over the neck of his gallop 
 ing steed, he advanced rapidly without 
 looking round him, although the land 
 scape that lay extended before him was 
 one of the most attractive and majestic 
 in those regions. 
 
 The river formed the most capricious 
 windings in the centre of a terrain di 
 versified 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 alligatoi-s wandered about awk 
 wardly. At other places, where the 
 river ran almost straight, its banks were 
 uniform, and covered with tall trees, 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 21 
 
 round which creepers had twined, and 
 then struck root in the ground again, 
 thus forming the most inextricable con 
 fusion. 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. 
 Further on, other trees, which seemed 
 still young, iudging from their color 
 and the solidity of their bark, fell into 
 dust with the slightest breath of wind. 
 
 At times, the earth, entirely under 
 mined beneath, drawn down by its own 
 weight, dragged with it the wood which 
 it bore, and produced a crashing, con 
 fused sound, which was returned on all 
 sides by the echo, and possessed a cer 
 tain degree of grandeur in this desert, 
 whose depths no man has ever yet ven 
 tured to scrutinise. 
 
 Still the stranger galloped on, with 
 his eye ardently fixed before him, and 
 not appearing to see anything. Several 
 hours passed thus: the horseman buried 
 himself deeper in the forest. He had 
 left the banks of the river, and only 
 progressed with extreme difficulty, 
 through the entanglement of branches, 
 grass, and shrubs, which at every step 
 arrested his movements, and forced him 
 to make innumerable turnings. He 
 merely reined in his horse now and 
 then, took a glance at the sky, and then 
 started again, muttering to himself but 
 one. word : 
 
 " Adelante ! (Forward !)" 
 
 At length he stopped in a vast clear 
 ing, took a suspicious 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 
 cigarette in his fingers, produced a gold 
 mechero from his waist-belt, and struck 
 u light. 
 
 The clearing was of considerable ex 
 tent. 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, wilder than ever, 
 seemed, on the contrary, an impassable 
 wall of verdure. All was abrupt and 
 
 primitive at this spot, which the foot 
 of man had so rarely trodden. Certain 
 trees, either entirely or partially dried 
 up, offered the vigorous remains of a 
 rich and fertile soil ; others, equally 
 ancient, were sustained by the twisted 
 creepers, which in the course of time 
 almost equalled their original support 
 in size : the diversity of the leaves pro 
 duced the strangest possible mixture. 
 Others, containing in their hollow trunk 
 a manure which, formed of the remains 
 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. 
 
 Jn the prairies, nature, ever provi 
 dent, seems ' to have been desirous to 
 shelter from the insults of time certain 
 old trees, patriarchs of the forest which 
 are crushed beneath the weight of ages, 
 by forming them a cloak of greyish 
 moss, which hangs in festoons from the 
 highest branches to the ground, assum 
 ing the wildest and most fantastic 
 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 the Hispano-Americans. He only 
 interrupted this gentle occupation to 
 roll a fresh cigarette and cast a glance 
 around, while muttering: 
 
 " Hum ! he keeps me waiting a long 
 time.'' 
 
 He emitted a puff of bluish smoke, 
 aud resumed his first position. Several 
 hours passed thus. Suddenly, a rather 
 loud rustling was heard in the thicket, 
 some distance behind the stranger. 
 
 " Ah, ah !" he said, " I fancy my man 
 is coming at last." 
 
 In the meanwhile, the sound became 
 louder, and rapidly approached. 
 
 " Come on, hang- it !" the horseman 
 shouted, as he rose. *' By our Lady of 
 Pilar ! you have surely been keeping 
 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 continuing not to 
 
22 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 show himself, at length rose to see for 
 himself the reason. At this moment, 
 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 patted 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 extraordinary 
 movements, and was soon satisfied. 
 
 Scarce twenty yards from him a 
 magnificent jaguar, with a splendidly- 
 spotted hide, was crouched on the main 
 branch of an enormous cypress, 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 him 
 self in a low voice, but displaying no 
 further excitement, " I did not expect 
 you ; but no matter, you are welcome, 
 comrade. Carai ! we shall have a fight 
 for it." 
 
 Without taking his eye off the jaguar, 
 he convinced himself that his machete 
 quitted its scabbard readily, picked up 
 his rifle, and, after these precautions 
 were taken, he advanced resolutely to 
 ward the ferocious brute, 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 held between 
 his lips, shouldered his rifle, and put his 
 finger on the trigger. The jaguar drew 
 itself together and prepared to leap for 
 ward. 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 upou him. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE CONTEST. 
 
 THE dwellers on the Mexican frontiers 
 are accustomed to fight continually with 
 wild animals, both men and brutes, that 
 iontinually attack them. Hence the 
 stranger was but slightly affected by 
 the unexpected visit of the two jaguars. 
 Although his position between his two 
 ferocious enemies was somewhat pre 
 carious, 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 standing between them. This 
 manoeuvre, which demanded some little 
 time, succeeded beyond his hopes. The 
 jaguars watched him, licking their lips, 
 and passing their paws behind their ears 
 with those graceful movements peculiar 
 to the feline race. The two wild beasts, 
 certain of their prey, seemed to be play 
 ing with it and not over eager to pounce 
 on it. 
 
 While keeping his eye on the watch, 
 the Mexican did not yield to any treach 
 erous 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, securely 
 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 
 rifle for the second time. At this mo 
 ment the jaguars raised their heads, 
 while laying back their ears and snuffing 
 anxiously. An almost imperceptible 
 sound was audible in the bushes. 
 
 " Who goes there ?" the Mexican 
 asked in a loud voice. 
 
 " A friend, Don Miguel Zarate," was 
 the reply. 
 
 " Ah ! it is Don Valentine," the Mex 
 ican continued. " You have arrived 
 just in time to see some fine sport." 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 1 
 
 " Ah, ah !" the man who had alread) 
 spoken went on. " Can I help you V 
 
 " It is useless ; but make haste if 
 you want to see." 
 
 The branches were sharply drawn 
 aside, and two men appear in the clear 
 ing. At the sight of the jaguars they 
 stopped, not through alarm, for they 
 quietly placed the butts of their rifle 
 on the ground, but in order to give the 
 hunter every facility to emerge victori 
 ously from his rash combat. 
 
 The jaguars seemed to comprehend 
 that the moment for action had arrived. 
 As if by one accord, they drew them 
 selves 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 received 
 on the point of the hunter's machete, 
 who after discharging his rifle, had 
 fallen on his knee, with his left arm 
 folded in his blanket in front, and the 
 machete in the other hand. 'The man 
 and the tiger writhed together in a 
 deadly embrace, and after a few seconds 
 only one of the adversaries rose : it 
 was the man. The tiger was dead : 
 the hunter's machete, guided by a firm 
 hand, had passed right through its heart. 
 
 During this rapid fight the new 
 comers had not made a sign, but re 
 mained stoical spectators of all that 
 was taking place. The Mexican rose, 
 thrust his machete in the grass to clean 
 the blade, and turning coldly to the 
 strangers, said : 
 
 " What do you say to that ?" 
 
 "Splendidly played," the first an 
 swered ; " 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 the 
 Mexican, who reloaded his piece with 
 as much coolness 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 shadow of the trees assumpd a pro 
 digious length, and the luminary ap 
 peared like a ball of fire amid the limpid 
 azure of the heavens. The night would 
 soon arrive, and the desert was awak 
 ing. On all sides could be heard, in 
 the gloomy and mysterious depths of 
 
 the virgin forest, the hoarse howling of 
 the coyotes and the 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 the day, emerged from its un 
 healthy torpor on the approach of dark, 
 and was preparing to resume its noc 
 turnal sports. 
 
 The three men in the clearing col 
 lected dried branches, made a pile of 
 them and set fire to it. They doubt 
 lessly 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 their game-bags maize tortillas, 
 jerked meat, and a gourd of pulque. 
 These various comestibles were com 
 placently 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 tortillas had dis 
 appeared, the new comers lit their In 
 dian pipes, and the Mexican rolled a 
 papelito. 
 
 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 give them a fan 
 tastic appearance. 
 
 " And now," the Mexican said, after 
 lighting his cigarette, " I will, with your 
 permission, explain to you why I was 
 so anxious to see you." 
 
 " One moment," one of the hunters 
 answered. "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 
 n nothing of what is said here being 
 overheard, or even suspected." 
 
 "Very good. Curumilla, to work." 
 
 The second hunter rose, seized his 
 ifle and disappeared noiselessly in the 
 loom. His absence was rather long; 
 out as long as it lasted, the two men 
 eft at the fire did not exchange a sylla- 
 )le. In about half an hour the hunter 
 eturned, however, and seated himself 
 j his comrades' side. 
 
24 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " Well ?" the one who had sent him 
 off asked him. 
 
 " My brother can speak," he replied 
 laconically ; " the desert is quiet." 
 
 On this assurance the three men 
 banished all anxiety. Still prudence 
 did not abandoned them : they took up 
 their pipes, and turned their backs to 
 ^the fire, so that they might watch the 
 neighborhood while conversing. 
 
 " We are ready to listen to you," the 
 first hunter said. 
 
 " Listen to me with the greatest at 
 tention," the Mexican began ; "what you 
 are about to hear is of the utmost im 
 portance." 
 
 The two men bowed silently, and 
 the Mexican prepared to speak again. 
 
 Before going further we must intro 
 duce to the reader the two men we 
 have just brought on the stage, and go 
 back a few paces in order to make it 
 perfectly understood why Don Miguel 
 Zarate, in lieu of receiving them at his 
 own house, had given them the meeting 
 in the heart of the virgin forest. 
 
 The two hunters seemed at the first 
 glance to be Indians ; but on examin 
 ing them more attentively, you could 
 recognize that one of them belonged to 
 those white trappers whose boldness 
 has become proverbial in Mexico. Their 
 appearance and equipment offered a 
 singular medley of savage and civilized 
 life. Their hair was of a remarkable 
 length ; for in those countries, where a 
 man is frequently only fought for the 
 glory of lifting his scalp, it is consider 
 ed the thing to wear it long and easy 
 to seize. 
 
 The hunters had their hair neatly 
 plaited, and intertwined with beaver 
 skins and bright colored ribbons. The 
 rest of their garb harmonized with this 
 specimen of their taste. A hunting 
 shirt of bright red calico fell down to 
 their knees; gaiters decorated with 
 woolen ribbons and bells surrounded 
 their legs ; and their feet were shod 
 with moccasins embroidered with beads 
 which the squaws know so well how to 
 make. A striped 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 pistols and 
 
 the hilt of the machetes 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 stripped of the plume-worked elk- 
 skin that covered them, it would have 
 been possible to see, with what care 
 their owners had decorated 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 de 
 noted great bodily strength, allied to 
 unequalled lightness. Although he af 
 fected all the manners of the redskins, 
 it was an easy matter to perceive that 
 he not only belonged to the unmixed 
 white race, but also to the Norman or 
 Gaulish type. He was fair ; his large, 
 blue and pensive eyes, adorned with 
 long lashes, had an expression of unde- 
 finable sadness : his nose was slightly 
 aquiline ; his mouth large, and filled 
 with teeth of dazzling whiteness ; a 
 thick chesnut beard covered the lower 
 part of his face, which revealed gentle 
 ness, kindness, and courage without 
 boasting, though the whole were com 
 bined 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 aborigines 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 com 
 plete type of the American 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 Aucas. 
 These two men, whom the reader 
 has doubtless already recognized, as 
 hey played an important part in our 
 previously published works*, were Val- 
 ntine Guillois, an ex-noncommissioned 
 officer in the Spahis, and Curumilla, 
 
 * The Chief of the Aucas," "The Tiger Slayer," 
 ' The Gold Finders," " The Indian Chief" 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 25 
 
 his friend Ulmen ef the Great Hare 
 tribe. 
 
 We will introduce a parenthesis to 
 explain their present position, and 
 which is indispensable for a right under 
 standing of what follows. The moment 
 is capitally selected, by the way, for 
 opening this parenthesis ; for the three 
 hunters are gaily talking round their 
 fire, the night is gloomy, the forest 
 quiet, and it does not appear likely that 
 anything will arise to disturb them. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 DON MIGUEL ZARATK. 
 
 WERE Mexico better governed, it 
 would be, without contradiction, one of 
 the richest countries on the face of the 
 globe. Indeed the largest private for 
 tunes must still be sought in that coun 
 try. Since the United States Ameri 
 cans have revealed to the world, by 
 seizing one-half of Mexico, whither 
 their ambition tends, the inhabitants of 
 that fine country have slightly emerged 
 from the torpor they enjoyed, and have 
 made great efforts to colonise their pro 
 vinces, and summon to their soil, which 
 is so rich and fertile, intelligent and in 
 dustrious laborers, who might change 
 the face of affairs, and cause abundance 
 and wealth to abound at spots, where, 
 prior to their arrival, there was naught 
 save ruin, desolation, carelessness, and 
 misery. 
 
 Unfortunately, the noble efforts made 
 up to the present day have, through an 
 inexplicable fatality, remained without 
 result, either owing to the natural apa 
 thy of the inhabitants, or the fault of 
 the Mexican Government itself. Still 
 the large land-owners, comprehending 
 all the advantages of the proposed mea 
 sure, and how much it is to their inter 
 est to combat the deadly influence of 
 the American invasions, have generous 
 ly devoted themselves to the realiza 
 tion cf this great question of social econ 
 omy, which, unluckily is growing more 
 and more unrealisable. 
 
 In fact, in Northern America two 
 hostile races the Anglo-Saxon and the 
 
 Spanish stand face to face. The An 
 glo-Saxons are devoured by an ardor 
 for conquest, and a rage for invasion, 
 which nothing can arrest, or even re 
 tard. It is impossible to see without 
 amazement the expansive tendencies of 
 this active and singular people, a hete 
 rogeneous composite of all the races 
 which misery or evil instincts expelled 
 from Europe originally, and which feels 
 restricted in the immense territory 
 which its numerical weakness yet pre 
 vents it entirely occupying. 
 
 Imprisoned within its vast frontiers, 
 making a right of strength, it is contin 
 ually displacing its neighbors' land 
 marks, and encroaching on territory of 
 which it can make no use. Daily, 
 bands of emigrants abandon their dwell 
 ings, and with their rifles on their shoul 
 ders, their axes irf their hand, they pro 
 ceed south, as if impelled by a will 
 stronger than themselves; and neither 
 mountains, deserts, nor virgin forests 
 are sufficient obstacles to make them 
 halt even for an instant. The Yankees 
 imagine themselves generally the in 
 struments of Providence, and appointed 
 by the decrees of the Omnipotent to 
 people and civilize the New World. 
 They count with feverish impatience 
 the hours which must elapse ere the 
 day (close at hand in their ideas) ar 
 rive in which their race and govern 
 ment system will occupy the entire 
 space contained between Cape North 
 and the Isthmus of Panama, to the ex 
 clusion of the Spanish republics on one 
 side, and the English colonies on the 
 other. These projects, of which the 
 Americans make no mystery, but, on 
 the contrary, openly boast, are perfect 
 ly well known to the Mexicans, who 
 cordially detest their neighbors, and 
 employ all the means in their power to 
 create difficulties for them, and impede 
 their successive encroachments. 
 
 Among the New Mexican land-own 
 ers who resolved to make sacrifices iu 
 order to stop, or at least check, the im 
 minent invasion from North America, 
 the richest, and possibly, first of all, 
 through his intelligence and the in 
 fluence he justly enjoyed in the coun 
 try, was Don Miguel Acamarichtzin 
 Zarate. 
 
26 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 Whatever may be asserted, the In 
 dian population of Mexico is nearly 
 double in number to the white men, and 
 possesses an enormous influence. Don 
 Miguel descended in a straight line from 
 Acamarichtzin, first king of Mexico, 
 whose name had been preserved in the 
 family as a precious relic. Possessed 
 of an incalculable fortune, Don Miguel 
 lived on his enormous estates like a 
 king in his empire, beloved and respect 
 ed by the Indians, whom he effectively 
 protected whenever the occasion pres 
 ented itself, and who felt for him a 
 veneration carried almost to idolatry ; 
 for they saw in him the descendant from 
 one of their most celebrated kings, and 
 the born defender of their race. 
 
 In New Mexico the Indian population 
 has very largely increased during the 
 past fifty years. Some authors, indeed, 
 assert that it is now more numerous 
 than prior to the conquest, which is 
 very probable, through the apathy of 
 the Spaniards, and the carelessness they 
 have ever displayed in their struggles 
 against it. But the Indians have re 
 mained stationary amid the incessant 
 progress of civilization, and still retain 
 intact the principal traits of their old 
 manners. Scattered here and there in 
 miserable ranches or villages, they live 
 in separate tribes, governed by their 
 caciques, and they have mingled but 
 very few Spanish words with their 
 idioms, which they speak as in the time 
 of the Aztecs. The sole apparent 
 change in them is their conversion to 
 Catholicism a conversion more than 
 problematical, as they preserve with the 
 utmost care all the recollections of their 
 ancient religion, follow its rites in se 
 cret, and keep up all its superstitious 
 practices. 
 
 The Indians above all, in New Mex 
 ico although called Indios fideles, are 
 always ready on the first opportunity 
 to ally themselves with their desert 
 congeners ; and in the incursions of the 
 Apaches and Comahches it is rare for 
 the faithful Indians not to serve them 
 as scouts, guides, and spies. 
 
 The family of Don Miguel Zarate 
 had retired to New Mexico, which coun 
 try it did not leave again a few years 
 after the conquests of the adventurer 
 
 Cortez. Don Miguel had closely fol 
 lowed the policy of his family by main 
 taining the bonds of friendship and 
 good neighborhood which, from time 
 immemorial, attached it to the Indians, 
 believers or not. This policy had 
 borne its fruit. Annually, in Septem 
 ber, when the terrible red warriors, 
 preceded by murder and arson, rushed 
 like a torrent on the wretched inhabit 
 ants, whom they massacred in the farms 
 they plundered, without pity of age or 
 or sex, 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 unwitting 
 ly trampled by the horses' hoofs, or a 
 few trees destroyed by plunderers, the 
 evil was immediately repaired ere the 
 owner had opportunity for complaint. 
 
 This conduct of the Indians had not 
 failed to arouse against Don Miguel ex 
 treme jealousy on the part of the in 
 habitants, who saw themselves period 
 ically ruined by the Indios Eravos. 
 Earnest complaints had been laid 
 against him before the Mexican Gov 
 ernment; 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 cap 
 ital for the inhabitants to have anything 
 to fear from the governing classes ; and 
 secondly, Don Miguel was too rich not 
 to render it easy for him to impose si 
 lence on those who were most disposed 
 to injure him. 
 
 Don Miguel, whose portrait we drew 
 in a previous chapter, was left a widow 
 er after eight years' marriage, with 
 two children, a boy and a girl, the son 
 being twenty-four, the daughter seven 
 teen, at the period when our story 
 opens. Dona Clara such was the 
 daughter's name was one of the most 
 delicious maidens that can be imagined. 
 She had one of those Murillo's virgin 
 heads, whose black eyes, fringed with 
 long silky lashes, pure mouth, and 
 dreamy brow seem to promise divine 
 joys. Her complexion, slightly bronz 
 ed by the warm sunbeams, wore that 
 gilded reflection which so well becomes 
 the women of these intertropical coun- 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 27 
 
 tries. She was short of stature, but 
 exquisitely modelled. Gentle and sim 
 ple, ignorant as a Creole, this delicious 
 child was adored by her father, who 
 saw in her the wife he had so loved liv 
 ing once more. The Indians looked af 
 ter her when she at times passed pen 
 sively, plucking a flower before their 
 wretched huts, and scarce bending the 
 >lants on which she placed her delicate 
 oot. In their hearts they compared 
 this frail maiden, with her soft and va 
 porous 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 haciendero's 
 son, was a powerfully-built man, with 
 harshly-marked features, and a haughty 
 glance, although at times it was imprint 
 ed with gentleness and kindness. En 
 dowed 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 cor 
 rectness of his aim when on the chase. 
 A determined hunter and daring wood- 
 ranger, this young man, when he had a 
 good horse between his legs, and his 
 rifle in his hand, knew none, man or 
 animal, capable of barring his passage. 
 The Indians, in their simple faith, yield 
 ed to the son the same respect and 
 veneration they entertained for the 
 father, and fancied they saw in him the 
 personification of Huitzilopochtli, that 
 terrible war god of the Aztecs, to whom 
 62,000 human victims were sacrificed in 
 one day, upon the inauguration of his 
 teocali. 
 
 The Zarates, then, at the period when 
 our story opens, were real kings of 
 New Mexico. The felicity they enjoyed 
 was suddenly troubled by one of those 
 vulgar incidents which, though unim 
 portant in themselves, do Lot fail to 
 cause a general perturbation, and a dis 
 comfort possessing no apparent cause, 
 from the fact that it is impossible to 
 foresee or prevent them. The circum 
 stance was as follows : 
 
 Don Miguel possessed, in the vicinity 
 of the Paso, vast estates extending for 
 a great distance, and consisting princi 
 pally of haciendas, prairies, and forests. 
 
 One day Don Miguel 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 reach 
 ing the ford, his attention was attracted 
 by cries mingled with growls emerging 
 from the wood he was about to enter. 
 The haciendero stopped in order to ac 
 count for the unusual sounds he heard, 
 and bent his head forward to detect 
 what was happening. But it was im 
 possible for him to distinguish anything 
 through the chaos of creepers and shrubs 
 which intercepted vision. In the mean 
 while, the noise grew louder, and the 
 shouts were redoubled, and mingled 
 with oaths and passionate exclamations. 
 The Mexican's horse laid back its 
 ears, neighed, and refused to advance. 
 Still Don Miguel must make up his 
 mind. Thinking that a man was pro 
 bably 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 spectacle that presented itself 
 to him. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE PECCARIS. 
 
 IN the middle of the clearing lay a 
 ripped-up horse, which six or eight pec- 
 caris were rending, while a dozen others 
 were attacking with their tusks the stem 
 of an enormous tree, in the topmost 
 branches of which a man had sought 
 shelter. 
 
 Let us explain to our readers, who 
 probably know little about them, what 
 sort of animals the peccaris are. 
 
 The peccaris hold the intermediate 
 grade between the domestic pig and the 
 wild boar. Although this animal does 
 not exceed two feet in height, and is 
 not more than three feet long from the 
 end of the suout to the beginning of the 
 
28 
 
 THE TRATL-HUNTEB. 
 
 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 
 between 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 peccaris are 
 as quick and sharp as those of a squir 
 rel. They ordinarily live in herds of 
 fifteen, thirty, and even fifty. The 
 strength of the head, neck, and shoul 
 ders is so great when they charge, that 
 nothing can resist the impetuosity of 
 their attacks. A remarkable peculia 
 rity of this genus is the clumsy wart 
 they have on their backs, whence a 
 musty fluid evaporates when the animal 
 is in a fury. 
 
 The peccari 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 slightest degree in 
 commoded. 
 
 The mode in which the peccari 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 measure forty feet 
 in circumference, are nearly all hollow, 
 and thus afford a convenient shelter for 
 the peccaris, which retire to them every 
 night in herds of twenty to twenty-five, 
 entering the cavity one after the other 
 backwards; so that the last has the end 
 of its snout placed just at the entrance 
 of the hole, thus watching, as it were, 
 over the rest of its companions. 
 
 The peccaris are unboundedly fero 
 cious : they know not danger, or at 
 least despise it completely. They al 
 ways attack in herds, and fight with un 
 equalled 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 their prey if it be so imprudent 
 as to attack them. This is the way 
 they set about conquering this wild 
 beast : 
 
 When a jaguar has wounded a pec 
 cari, the latter collect, chase it, and pur 
 sue until they can contrive to surround 
 the common enemy. When every issue 
 is closed, the jaguar, believing it can 
 thus escape, seeks refuge up a tree. 
 But the peccaris do not resign the ven 
 geance ; they establish themselves at 
 the foot of the tree, being incessantly 
 recruited by fresh allies, and patiently 
 waiting till the jaguar, driven to extre 
 mities by hunger and thirst, decides on 
 descending from its improvised fortress. 
 This is almost always sure to happen at 
 the end of two or three days at the 
 most. The jaguar bounds into the 
 midst of its enemies, which boldly 
 await it, and attack it bravely ; a ter 
 rible fight commences ; and the tiger, 
 after covering the ground with victims, 
 at length succumbs beneath the efforts 
 of its assailants, and is ripped up by 
 their tusks. 
 
 After what we have said, it is easy 
 to understand how precarious was the 
 position of the man perched on the top 
 of the tree, and surrounded by peccaris. 
 His 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 their onsets, they 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 destruc 
 tion was assured. 
 
 To attack the peccaris would have 
 been extreme imprudence, and have 
 produced no other result than that of 
 turning on himself the fury of the ani 
 mals, while not saving the man he wish 
 ed to help. Still time pressed. What 
 was to be done? How, without sacri 
 ficing himself, save the man who ran so 
 great a risk 1 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 The Mexican hesitated for a long 
 period. It seemed to Don Miguel im 
 possible to leave, without help, this man 
 whose death was certain. This idea, 
 which presented itself to his mind sev 
 eral times, he had energetically repuls 
 ed, so monstrous did it appear to him. 
 At length he resolved at all risks to at 
 tempt impossibilities 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 
 critical because, in his haste to defend 
 himself from the attacks of his ene 
 mies, he had left his rifle fall at the foot 
 of the tree, and was consequently un 
 able to reduce the number of the pec- 
 caris. In spite of their fineness of scent, 
 the latter had not noticed Don Miguel's 
 approach, who, by a providential acci 
 dent, had entered the wood on the side 
 opposite the wind. The Mexican dis 
 mounted with a sigh, patted his horse, 
 and then took off its accoutrements. 
 The noble animal, habituated toils mas 
 ter's caresses, shook his head joyously, 
 and fixed its large intelligent eyes on 
 him. Don Miguel could not repress 
 another sigh : a tear fell down on his 
 bronzed cheeks. On the point of ac 
 complishing the sacrifice, he hesitated. 
 It was a faithful companion, almost a 
 friend, he was about to separate from ; 
 but the life of a man was at st;ike. 
 The Mexican drove back the feelings 
 that agitated him, and his resolution 
 was formed. lie passed a lasso round 
 his horse's neck, and, in spite of its ob 
 stinate resistance, compelled it to ad 
 vance to the entrance of the clearing in 
 which the peccaris were assembled. A 
 frail curtain of creepers and leaves 
 alone hid it from their sight. On ar 
 riving here Don Miguel stopped : he 
 had one more moment's hesitation, but 
 " only one ; for then seizing a piece of 
 tinder, which he lighted, he thrust it 
 iiito the poor animal's ear while caress 
 ing it. 
 
 The effect was sudden and terrible. 
 The horse uttered a snort of pain ; and 
 rendered mad by the burning, bounded 
 forward into the clearing, striving ir 
 vain to get rid of the tinder which 
 caused it intolerable suffering. Don 
 2 
 
 \Iiguel had smartly leaped aside, and 
 low followed with an anxious glance 
 he result of the terrible tentative he 
 lad just made to save the stranger. 
 On seeing the horse appear suddenly in 
 heir midst, the peccaris rose, formed a 
 :ompact group and rushed with their 
 leads down in pursuit of the horse, 
 hinking 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, 
 jreaking down with its chest all the ob- 
 tacles in its way, and followed closely 
 >y the peccaris. 
 
 The man saved ; but at what a price ! 
 Don Miguel repressed a last sigh of re- 
 fret, and leaped into the clearing. The 
 tranger had already descended from the 
 ree ; but the emotion he had undergone 
 A ; as so extreme, that he remained seat 
 ed on the ground, almost in a state of 
 unconsciousness. 
 
 " Quick, quick !" Don Miguel said 
 o him sharply. " We have not a mo 
 ment to lose : the peccaris may alter 
 their minds and return." 
 
 " That is true," the stranger muttered 
 n a hollow voice, as he cast a terrified 
 glance around. " Let us be off off at 
 .nee." 
 
 He made an effort over himself, 
 seized his rifle, and rose. Through a 
 presentiment for which he could not 
 account to himself, Don Miguel experi 
 enced at the sight of this man, whom 
 he had hitherto scarce looked at, a feel 
 ing of invincible doubt and disgust. 
 Owing to the life he was obliged to 
 lead on these frontiers, frequented by 
 people of every description, the hacien- 
 dero had been often brought into rela 
 tion with trappers and hunters whose 
 faces were no recommendation to them ; 
 but never ere now had chance brought 
 him in contact with an individual of 
 such sinister appearance as this one. 
 
 Still he did not allow his feelings to 
 be seen through, 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. Thank* 
 to the Mexican's acquaintance with the 
 country, the wood was speedily travers 
 ed, and the two men, after a walk of 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 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 syllable, so 
 terrified were they of seeing the peccaris 
 appear at any moment. Fortunately 
 this was not the case, and they reached 
 the ford without being again disturbed. 
 
 Don Miguel was burdened with his 
 horse's trappings, which he now threw 
 mi the ground, and looked around him 
 in the hope of finding some one who 
 would help him in crossing the river. 
 His expectations were not deceived ; 
 for just as they reached the ford an 
 arriero was preparing to cross to the 
 other side of the river with his recua of 
 mules, and, with the generosity innate 
 in all Mexicans, he offered to carry them 
 both to the Paso. 
 
 The two men eagerly accepted, each 
 mounted a mule, and half an hour 
 later they found themselves in safety 
 at the village. After giving the arriero 
 a few reals to requite him for his ser 
 vices, Don Miguel took up his horse's 
 trappings again, and prepared to start. 
 
 The stranger stopped. 
 
 " We are about to part here, cabal- 
 lero," he said in a rough voice, with a 
 very marked English accent; " but be 
 fore leaving, let me express to you my 
 deep gratitude for the noble and gene 
 rous manner in which you saved my 
 life at the peril of your own." 
 
 "Sir," the Mexican simply answered, 
 " t only did my duty in saving you. 
 In the desert all men are brothers, and 
 owe each 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 continu 
 ed ; " but be kind enough, pray, to tell 
 me your name, so that 1 may know to 
 whom I owe my life." 
 
 " That is needless," Don Miguel said 
 with a smile. " Still, as I fancy you 
 are a stranger in these parts, let me 
 give you a piece of advice." 
 
 " What is it, sir?" 
 
 " Never in future to attack the pec 
 caris. They are terrible enemies, only 
 to be -eonquered by a strong body of 
 men; and an individual in attacking 
 
 them commits an unpardonable 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 
 wasps' nest again. 1 was too near pay 
 ing dearly for my imprudence. But I 
 beg you, sir, do not let us separate ere 
 I know the name of my preserver." 
 
 " 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 move 
 ment of surprise. 
 
 " Ah !" he said in a singular tone, 
 "Thanks, Don Miguel Zarate. With 
 out knowing you personally, I was al 
 ready acquainted with your name." 
 
 " That is possible," the haciendero 
 answered ; " for I am well known in 
 this country, where my family has been 
 established for many a long year." 
 
 " 1, sir, am the man whom the In 
 dians call Witchasta Joute, the Man- 
 eater, and the hunters, my companions, 
 Red Cedar." 
 
 And after lifting his hand to his cap 
 in salute, this man threw his rifle on 
 his shoulder, turned on his heel, and 
 went off at full speed. 
 
 Don Miguel looked after him for a 
 while, and then walked pensively to 
 ward the house he inhabited at el Paso. 
 The haciendero 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 hacienda where he 
 resided with his family. 
 
 It was situated a few miles from the 
 Presidio of San Elezario, in a delicious 
 position, and was known as the Hacien 
 da de la Noria (the Farm of the Well). 
 The estate inhabited by Don Miguel 
 stood in the centre of the vast delta 
 formed by the Del Norte and the Rio 
 San Pedro, or Devil's River. It was 
 one of those strong and massive build- 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 ings which the Spaniards alone knew 
 how to erect when they were absolute 
 masters of Mexico. 
 
 The hacienda formed a vast parellel- 
 ogram, supported at regular distances 
 by enormous cross walls of carved 
 stone. Like all the frontier habita 
 tions, which are rather fortresses than 
 houses, it was only pierced on the side 
 of the plain with a few narrow windows 
 resembling loopholes, and protected by 
 s<>lid iron bars. This abode was be- 
 iiirt by a thick wall of circurnvallation, 
 defended on the top by that fretwork 
 called almenas, which indicated the no 
 bility of the owner. 
 
 Within this wall, but separated from 
 the chief apartments, were the stables, 
 outliouses, barns and cabins for the 
 peons. 
 
 At the extremity of the courtyard, 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 Ambrosio. 
 
 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 
 steins were as much as six feet in dia 
 meter. 
 
 Don Miguel employed a considerable 
 number of peons in the cultivation of 
 the sugar cane, which he carried on upon 
 a very large scale. As everybody 
 Jinows, the cane is planted by laying it 
 horizontally in furrows half a foot deep. 
 From each knot springs a shoot which 
 reaches a height of about three yards, 
 and which is cut at the end of a year to 
 extract the juice. 
 
 Nothing can be more picturesque 
 than the sight of a field of sugar canes. 
 It was one of those superb American 
 mornings during which nature seems to 
 be holding a festival. The centzontle 
 (American nightingale) frequently pour 
 ed forth its harmonious notes ; the red 
 throstled cardinals, the blue birds, the 
 parroquets, chattered gaily 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 manadas of 
 
 wild horses, which raised clouds of im 
 palpable dust beneath the vibration of 
 their rapid hoofs. A few alligators, 
 carelessly stretched out ,on the river 
 mud, were drying 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 
 favorite pace of the Mexican ginetas, 
 and which consists in making the horse 
 raise its front legs, while the hind ones 
 almost graze the 'ground a peculiar 
 sort of amble which is very gentle and 
 rapid. 
 
 The haciendero only employed four 
 hours in traversing the distance separat 
 ing him from the hacienda, where he 
 arrived about nine in the morning. He 
 was received on the threshold of the 
 house by his daughter, who, warned of 
 his arrival, had hastened to meet him. 
 
 Don Miguel had been absent from, 
 home a fortnight ; 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 re 
 garded her attentively during several 
 seconds. 
 
 " What is the matter, mi querida 
 Clara?" he asked with sympathy. 
 " You seem very sad. Can you feol vex 
 ed at the sight of me ?" he added, with 
 a smile. 
 
 " Oh, you cannot 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 the hacienda ?" 
 
 " 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." 
 
32 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " My son ill !" Don Miguel exclaimed 
 
 " I am wrong," Dona Clara correctec 
 
 herself. 
 
 " Explain . yourself, in Heaten's 
 name !" 
 
 "My father, the fact is that Pablo "is 
 wounded." 
 
 " Wounded !" the haciendero sharply 
 said ; and thrusting his daughter aside 
 he rushed toward 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 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 V he asked him in great 
 agitation. 
 
 " Less than nothing, father," the 
 young man replied, exchanging a mean 
 ing glance with his sister, who entered 
 at the moment. " Clara is a foolish 
 girl, who, in her tenderness, wrongly 
 alarmed you." 
 
 " But, after all, you are wounded T' 
 the father continued. 
 
 " But I repeat that it is a mere noth 
 ing." 
 
 " Come, explain yourself. How and 
 when did you receive this wound ?" 
 
 The young man blushed, and main 
 tained silence. 
 
 " I insist on knowing," Don Miguel 
 continued pressingly. 
 
 " Good heavens, father !" Don Pablo 
 replied with an air of ill-humor, " I do 
 not understand why you are alarmed 
 for so futile a cause. I am not a child, 
 whom a scratch should make frighten 
 ed ; 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 trying to take to keep me igno 
 rant of the cause of this wound in a 
 word, everything tells me that this time 
 you are 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 breakfast prepared, for I am dying 
 
 c i JO 
 
 or hunger. 
 
 The girl went out. 
 
 "Now it is our turn," Don Miguel 
 continued. " in the first place, where 
 are you wounded ?" 
 
 " 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 
 shoulder ?'' 
 
 " A bullet." 
 
 "What! a bullet! Then you 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 him 
 self. 
 
 "Two days after your departure, 
 father," Don Pablo continued, " I was 
 superintending, as you wished me to 
 do, the cutting of the cane crop, when 
 a hunter whom you will probably re 
 member having seen prowling about the 
 estate, a man of the name of Andres 
 Grarote, accosted me at the moment I 
 was about to return home after giving 
 my orders to the majordomo. After 
 saluting me obsequiously as his wont, 
 the scamp smiled cunningly, and lower- 
 ng his voice so as not to be overheard 
 >y those around us, said, 'Don Pablo, I 
 Uncy you would give half an ounce to 
 he man who brought you important 
 news ?' ' That depends,' 1 answered ; 
 or, having known the man a long time, 
 was aware much confidence could not 
 >e placed in him. ' Bah ! your grace 
 s so rich,' he continued insidiously, 
 that a miserable sum like that is less 
 han nothing in his pocket, while in 
 Tiine it would do me a deal of good.' 
 
 " Apart from his defects, this scamp 
 lad at times done us a few small ser 
 vices ; and then, as he said, a half- 
 unce is but a trifle, so I gave it to him. 
 le stowed it away in his pockets, and 
 hen bent down to my ear. ' Thanks, 
 Don Pablo/ he said to me. ' I shall 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 not cheat you of your money. Your 
 horse is rested, and can stand a long 
 journey. Proceed to Buffalo Valley, 
 and there you will learn something to 
 interest you.' It was in vain that I 
 urged him to explain himself more 
 clearly ; I could draw no more from 
 him. He merely added before parting 
 from me, ' Don Pablo, you have good 
 weapons; so take them with you, for 
 no man knoweth what may happen.' 
 Somehow the scamp's veiled confidence 
 aroused my curiosity : hence I resolved 
 to go to Buffalo Valley, and gain the 
 clue of this riddle." 
 
 "Andres Garote is a villain, who 
 laid a snare for you, into which you 
 fell," Don Miguel interrupted. 
 
 " No, father, you are mistaken. 
 Andres was honest towards me, and I 
 have only thanks to give him. Still he 
 should have explained himself, perhaps, 
 more distinctly." 
 
 The haciendero shook his head with 
 a doubting air. 
 
 " Go on," he said. 
 
 " 1 entered my house, procured the 
 weapons, 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 con 
 fluent 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 the trouble/' the 
 young man said with a smile, " for some 
 one has done it for you." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" the hacien 
 dero asked wrathfully. " Who 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 three 
 whelps three big fellows with hang-dog 
 faces, who laughed at me when I told 
 
 them 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 comei ;* 
 and that I shall afford them lively pleas 
 ure by being off at full speed. What 
 more shall I tell you, father ? I take 
 after you. I have hot blood, and I cor 
 dially hate that race of Yankee pirates, 
 who, for some years back, have settled 
 on our lovely country like a swarm of 
 musquitos. 1 saw our forest plundered, 
 our finest trees cut down. I could not 
 remain unmoved in the presence of 
 these scoundels' insolence, and the quar 
 rel became so sharp that they fired at 
 
 "Virgen Santissima!" Don Miguel 
 exclaimed in fury, " they shall pay dear 
 ly for the affront they have offered you 
 I swear it ! I will take exemplary 
 vengeance." 
 
 " Why be so angry, father 1" the 
 young man replied, visibly annoyed 
 at the effect his story had produced. 
 "The harm these people do us is really 
 very trifling. I 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." 
 
 "I assure you that, if you will leave 
 me to act, I feel certain of arranging 
 this affair to your entire satisfaction." 
 
 " I forbid you taking the slightest 
 steps, for this matter concerns me now. 
 Whatever may occur, i do not wish you 
 to interfere. 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 retir 
 ed, and his son fell back on his bed 
 stifling a sigh, and uttering a hoarse ex 
 clamation of passion. 
 
34 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER, 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE SQUATTER'S SHANTT. 
 
 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 attacked by the three 
 brothers, who would have mercilessly 
 killed him, resolved to lay the blame of 
 his death on the wild beasts, had not, at 
 the moment when one of them lifted 
 his knife on the young man, who was 
 thrown down and rendered motionless 
 by the others, a providential succor 
 reached him in the person of a charm 
 ing maid scarce sixteen years of age. 
 
 The courageous girl rushed from a 
 copse with the rapidity of a fawn, and 
 threw herself resolutely into the midst 
 of' the assassins. 
 
 " What are you about, brother ?" she 
 exclaimed in a melodious voice, whose 
 harmonious notes echoed amorously in 
 Don Pablo's ears. " Why do you 
 wish to kill this stranger ?" 
 
 The three squatters, surprised by 
 this apparition, which they were far 
 from expecting, fell back a few paces. 
 
 Don Pablo profited by this . truce 
 t<> jump up and regain possession of 
 his arms, which had fallen by his side. 
 
 " Was it not enough," the girl con 
 tinued, " 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 
 unconsciously yielding to their sister's 
 influence, 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 
 hatred and anger. 
 
 " Ellen is right," the youngest of 
 her brothers suddenly said. " No, I 
 will not allow any harm to be done 
 the stranger." 
 
 The others looked at him savagely. 
 
 " You would defend him, if necessa- 
 
 sary, I suppose, Shaw ?" Nathan said 
 
 to him ironically. 
 
 11 Why should I not, were it requir 
 ed ?" the young man said boldly. 
 
 " Eh !" Gutter remarked with a grin, 
 " he is thinking of the Wood Eglan 
 tine." 
 
 This word had been scarce uttered 
 ere Shaw, with purpled face, contracted 
 features, and eyes injected with blood, 
 rushed with uplifted knife on his broth 
 er, who awaited him firmly. The girl 
 dashed between them. 
 
 " Peace, peace !" she shrieked in a 
 piercing voice, " do brothers dare 
 threaten one another ?" 
 
 The two young fellows remained mo 
 tionless, 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 ani 
 mated by anger, her head erect, and 
 her arms stretched out between the two 
 men, she bore a startling likeness to 
 those Druidesses who in olden times 
 summoned the warriors to combat be 
 neath the forests of Germany. 
 
 In her whole person she offered the 
 complete type of the gentle Northern 
 woman. Her 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 complex 
 ion, whose delicate and transparent 
 skin still bore the flush of adolescence 
 all was combined in this charming 
 maiden to render her the most . seduc 
 tive creature imaginable. 
 
 Don Pablo, a stranger to this kind 
 of beauty, felt himself involuntarily at 
 tracted toward the girl, and entirely 
 subjugated by hur. Forgetting the 
 reason that had brought him to this 
 spot, the danger he had incurred, and 
 that which still menaced him, he was 
 fascinated and trembling before this de 
 licious apparition, fearing at each in 
 stant to see it vanish like a vision, 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 statures and marked features 
 of her brothers, whose coarse and sav 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 35 
 
 age manners only served to heighten 
 tiie elegance and charm exhaled 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 
 fpom my brothers ; you can mount 
 /our horse again, and set out, and no 
 >ne will oppose your departure." 
 
 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 be 
 hind him. He turned back. The ap 
 proaching horseman was Shaw, who 
 soon caught up with Don Pablo. The 
 pair then proceeded some distance side 
 by side without exchanging a syllable, 
 and both seemed plunged in profound 
 thought. On reaching the skirt of the 
 forest, Shaw checked his horse, and 
 softly laid his right hand on the Mexi 
 can's bridle. Don Pablo also stopped 
 on this hint, and waited, while fixing an 
 inquiring glance on his strange com 
 rade. 
 
 " Stranger," the young man said, 
 " my sister sends me. She implores 
 you, if it be possible, to keep secret 
 what occurred between us to-day. She 
 deeply regrets the attack to which you 
 fell a victim, and the -wound you have 
 received ; and she will try to persuade 
 Bed Cedar, our father, to retire from 
 your estates." 
 
 "Thank your sister for me," Don 
 Pablo answered. "Tell her that her 
 slightest wish will ever be a command 
 to me, and that I shall be happy to exe 
 cute it." 
 
 " I will repeat your words to her." 
 
 " Thanks. Render 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 1 cannot 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. 1 obey her. lie- 
 member, stranger, that Shaw is yours 
 to the death." 
 
 " I shall not forget it, though I hope 
 never to be under the necessity of re 
 minding you of your words." 
 
 " All the worse," the American said, 
 with a shake of his head ; " but if at 
 any time the opportunity offers, 1 will 
 prove to you that 1 am a man of my 
 word, so surely as I am a Kentuckian." 
 
 And hurriedly turning his horse's 
 head, the young rhan rapidly disap 
 peared in the windings of the forest. 
 
 Buffalo Valley, illumined by the part 
 ing rays of the setting sun, seemed a 
 lake of verdure to which ihe golden 
 mist of night imparted magical tones. 
 A light breeze rustled through t,he lofty 
 crests of the cedars, catalpas, tulip and 
 Peru trees, and agitated the grass on 
 the banks of the Eio San Pedro. 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 
 saluting in its language the arrival of 
 night. 
 
 An hour later, the young man reached 
 the hacienda; but the wound he had re 
 ceived in his shoulder was more serious 
 than was at first supposed. He was 
 obliged, to his great regret, to keep his 
 bed, winch prevented him seeking to 
 meet again the maiden whose image 
 was deeply engraved on his heart. 
 
 So soon as the Mexican 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 in 
 terior of the jacal, where she attended 
 to the housekeeping duties with her 
 mother. This jacal was a wretched hut, 
 hastily made with branches of inter 
 twined trees, which trembled with every 
 breeze, and let the sun and rain pene 
 trate to the interior. 
 
 This cabin was divided into three 
 compartments: the one to the right 
 served as the bedroom of the two fe 
 males, while the men slept in the one 
 to the left. The central compartment, 
 furnished with worm-eaten benches and 
 
36 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 a clumsily-planed table, was at once 
 keeping-room and kitchen. 
 
 It was late : the squatters, assembled 
 round the fire, over which a huge pot 
 was boiling, were silently awaiting the 
 return of Red Cedar, who had been ab 
 sent since the morning. At length, a 
 horse's hoofs sounded sharply on the 
 detritus collected for years on the floor 
 of the forest, the noise grew gradually 
 nearer, the horse stopped in front of the 
 jacal, and a man made his appearance. 
 It was Red Cedar. The men slowly 
 turned their heads toward him, but did 
 not otherwise 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 near 
 the fire, and thrust his feet toward the 
 fire. 
 
 " Come, wife," he said, after the ex 
 piration of a moment, " the supper, in 
 the fiend's name 1 1 have a coyote's 
 hunger." 
 
 The wife did not let this be repeated. 
 A few moments later an immense dish 
 of frijoles, with pimento, smoked on the 
 table, w.ith large pots of pulque. The 
 meal was short and silent, the four men 
 eating with extreme rapacity. So soon 
 as the beans had disappeared Red Cedar 
 and his sons lit their pipes, and began 
 smoking, while drinking large draughts 
 of whiskey, though still not speaking. 
 At length Red Cedar took his pipe from 
 h;s lips, and hit the table sharply, while 
 saying in a rough voice : 
 
 " Come, women, decamp ! You have 
 nothing more to do here. You are in 
 our way, so go to the deuce !" 
 
 Ellen and her mother immediately 
 went out, and entered their separate 
 
 apartment. For a few minutes they 
 :ould be heard moving about, and then 
 all became silent again. 
 
 Red Cedar made a sign, and Sutter 
 rose and gently put his ear to the part 
 ing board. He listened for a few mo 
 ments while holding his breath, and 
 then returned to his seat, saying laconi 
 cally : 
 
 " They are asleep." 
 
 " Quick, my whelps !" the old squat 
 ter said in a low voice. " We have not 
 a minute to lose: the others are expect 
 ing us." 
 
 A strange scene then occurred in this 
 mean room, which was merely illu 
 mined by the expiring light of the 
 hearth. The four men arose, opened 
 a large chest, and produced from it 
 various objects of strange shapes leg- 
 gins, mittens, buffalo robes, collars of 
 grizzly bear claws ; in a word, the com 
 plete costumes of Apache Indians. 
 
 The squatters disguised themselves 
 as redskins ; and when they had put on 
 their garments, which rendered it im 
 possible to recognize them, they com 
 pleted the metamorphosis by painting 
 their faces of different colors. 
 
 Assuredly the traveller whom acci 
 dent had brought at this moment to the 
 jacal 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 await 
 ing 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 direction where they had gone, and 
 fell to the ground murmuring sadly : 
 
 " Good Heaven ! what diabolical 
 work are they going to perform this 
 night?" 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 37 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE RANGERS. 
 
 ON the banks of the Rio San Pedro, 
 and on the side of a hill, stood a ranche 
 ria composed of some ten cabins, in 
 habited by a population of sixty per 
 sons at the most, including men, women 
 and children. These people were Co 
 ras 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 near 
 ly twenty years they had been estab 
 lished at this place they had never 
 once offered a subject of complaint to 
 their neighbors, who, on the contrary, 
 were glad to see them prosper, owing 
 to their gentle and hospitable manners. 
 Though Mexican subjects, they govern 
 ed themselves after their fashion, obey 
 ing their caciques, and regulating in 
 the assembly of their elders all the dif 
 ficulties that arose in their village. 
 
 On the night when we saw the squat 
 ters leave the cabin in disguise, some 
 twenty individuals, armed to the teeth 
 and clothed in strange costums, with 
 their faces blackened so as to render 
 them unrecognizable, were bivouacked 
 at about two leagues from the ranche- 
 rie, in a plain on the river's bank. 
 Seated or lying round huge fires, they 
 were singing, laughing, quarrelling or 
 gambling with multitudinous yells and 
 oaths. Two men seated apart at the 
 foot of an enormous cactus, were con 
 versing in a low tone, while smoking 
 their husk cigarettes. These two men, 
 of whom we have already spoken to 
 the reader, were Fray Ambrosio, chap 
 lain to the Hacienda de la Noria, and 
 Andres Garote, the hunter. 
 
 Andres was a tall, thin fellow, with 
 a sickly 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 dis 
 turbance ? They were " rangers," but 
 this requires explanation. 
 
 Immediately after each of the differ 
 ent revolutions which have periodically 
 
 overturned Mexico since that country 
 so pompously declared its indepen 
 dence, the first care of the new president 
 who reaches power is to dismiss the 
 volunteers who had accideutly swollen 
 the ranks of his army, and supplied 
 him the means of overthrowing his pre 
 decessor. These volunteers, we must 
 do them the justice of allowing, are the 
 very scum of society, and the most de 
 graded class human nature produces. 
 These sanguinary men, without reli 
 gion or law, who have no relations or 
 friends, are an utter leprosy to the 
 country. 
 
 Roughly driven back into society, 
 the new life they are forced to adopt 
 in no way suits their habits of murder 
 and pillage. No longer able to wage 
 war on their countrymen, they form 
 free corps, and engage themselves for a 
 certain salary, to hunt the Indios Bra- 
 vos that is to say, the Apaches and 
 Comanches who desolate the Mexican 
 frontiers. In addition to this, the pa 
 ternal 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. 
 
 We do not fancy we are saying any 
 thing new in asserting that they are the 
 scourge of the colonists and inhabitants, 
 they plunder shamelessly in every way 
 when they are not doing worse. 
 
 The men assembled at this moment 
 on the banks of the Rio San Pedro were 
 preparing for a war party the name 
 they give to the massacres they organize 
 against the redskins. 
 
 Toward midnight Red Cedar and his 
 three sons reached the rangers' camp. 
 They must have been impatiently ex 
 pected, for the bandits received them 
 with marks of the greatest joy and the 
 warmest enthusiasm. The dice, the 
 cards, and botas of mezcal and whiskey 
 were immediately deserted. The ran- A 
 ers 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 
 sride at the sight of the rich collection 
 of bandits of every description whom 
 
38 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 he had around him, and who recognised 
 him as chief. He extended his arm to 
 command peace. When all were silent 
 the giant took the word. 
 
 " Senores caballeros," he said, in a 
 powerful and marked voice, which made 
 nil these scamps quiver with delight at 
 being treated like honest people, " the 
 audacity of the redskins is growing in 
 tolerable. 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. The 
 government complains about the few 
 scalps we supply; it- says we do not 
 carry out the clauses of the agreement 
 we have formed with it ; it talks about 
 disbanding us, as our services are use 
 less, and therefore burdensome to the 
 republic. It is our bounden duty to give 
 a striking denial to these malevolent 
 assertions, and prove to those who have 
 placed confidence in us that we are ever 
 ready to devote ourselves to the cause 
 of humanity and civilisation. I have 
 assembled you here for a war-party, 
 which I have been meditating for some 
 lime, and shall carry out this night. 
 We are abcut to attack the rancheria 
 of the Coras, who for some years past 
 have had the impudence to establish 
 themselves near this spot. They are 
 pagans and thieves, who have one hun 
 dred times merited the severe chastise 
 ment we are about to inflict on them. 
 But I implore you, senores caballeros, 
 display 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 ; so do not let yourselves 
 be moved by cries or tears, but scalp, 
 scalp to the end." 
 
 This harangue was greeted as it de 
 served to be that is, by yells of joy. 
 
 " Senores," Red Cedar continued, 
 "the worthy monk who accompanies 
 me will call down the blessing of Heaven 
 on our enterprise ; so kneel down to re 
 ceive the absolution he is about to give 
 you." 
 
 The bandits instantaneously dis 
 mounted, took off their hats, and knelt 
 on the sand. Fray Ambrosio then re 
 peated a long prayer, to which they 
 listened with exemplary patience, re 
 peating "amen" after each occasion, 
 
 and he ended by giving them absolu 
 tion. 
 
 The rangers rose, delighted at being 
 thus freed from the burden of their 
 sins, and got into their saddles again. 
 
 Red Cedar then whispered a few 
 words in Fray Ambrosio's ears, who 
 bowed his head in assent, and imme 
 diately set out in the direction of the 
 Hacienda de la Noria, followed by An 
 dres Garote. The squatter then turned 
 to the rangers, who were waiting his 
 orders. 
 
 " You know where we are going, 
 gentlemen," 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 pos 
 sessing. The dark blue sky was span 
 gled with ati infinite number of stars, in 
 the centre of which shone the majestic 
 Southern Cross, sparkling like a king's 
 mantle ; the atmosphere was extraordi 
 narily transparent, and allowed objects 
 to be- noticed at a great distance; the 
 moon profusely spread around her sil 
 very rays, which gave the scenery a 
 fantastic appearance ; a mysterious 
 breeze sported through the tops of the 
 great trees ; and at times vague rumors 
 traversed the space, and were lost in 
 the distance. 
 
 The gloomy horsemen still went on, 
 silent and frowning, like the phantoms 
 of the ancient legends, which glide 
 through the shadows to accomplish a 
 deed without a name. At the ejid of 
 scarce an hour the rancheria was reach 
 ed. All were resting in the village 
 not a light flashed in the hut. The In 
 dians, wearied with the hard toil of the 
 day, were reposing, full of confidence 
 in the sworn faith, and apprehending no 
 treason. 
 
 Red Cedar halted twenty yards from 
 the rancheria, 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 Apa- 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 39 
 
 ches, and the rangers galloped at full 
 speed on the village, uttering ferocious 
 howls, arid 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, sur 
 prised in their sleep, rushed terrified 
 iind half naked out of their poor 
 abodes, ind were pitilessly massacred 
 and scalped by the rangers, who waved 
 with a demoniac laugh their smoking-, 
 blood-dripping scalps. Men, women, 
 and children, all were killed with re 
 finements of barbarity. The village, 
 fired by the rangers' torches, soon be 
 came an immense funebral pile, in 
 which victims and murderers were 
 huddled pell-mell. 
 
 Still a few Indians had succeeded in 
 collecting. Formed in a compact troop 
 of twenty men, they opposed a des 
 perate resistance to their assassins, ex 
 asperated by the odor of blood and the 
 intoxication of carnage. At the head 
 of this band was a half nude, tall Indian 
 of intelligent features, who, armed with 
 a ploughshare, which he wielded with 
 extreme force arid skill, felled all the 
 assailants who came within reach of his 
 terrible weapon. This man was the 
 Cacique of the Coras. At his feet lay 
 his mother, wife, and two children 
 dead. The unhappy man struggled 
 with the energy 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 
 cacique he seemed invulnerable: not 
 one of the bullets aimed at him 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 
 'endure longer. Of the twenty com 
 panions he had round him on commenc 
 ing the struggle, the cacique 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 rangers, recognising the impossi 
 bility of conquering this lion-hearted 
 
 man, had changed their tactics : they no 
 longer attacked him, but contented 
 themselves with forming an impassable 
 circle round him, waiting prudently 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 
 contracted his haughty lips, and he 
 rushed resolutely toward these men 
 who recoiled before him. Suddenly, 
 with a movement quicker than thought, 
 he threw with extraordinary strength 
 the ploughshare among the rangers, and 
 bounding like a tiger, leaped on a horse, 
 and clutched its rider with superhuman 
 vigor. 
 
 Ere the rangers had recovered from 
 the surprise this unforeseen attack occa 
 sioned in them, by a desperate effort, 
 and still holding the horseman, the chief 
 tain drew from his girdle a short sharp 
 knife, which he buried up to the hilt in 
 the flanks of the horse. The animal ut 
 tered a shriek of pain, rushed headlong 
 into the crowd, and bore both away 
 with maddening speed. * 
 
 The rangers, rendered furious at being 
 played with bya 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 ia the 
 darkness. 
 
 The cacique continued to fly till he 
 felt his horse tottering under him. He 
 had not loosed his hold of the horseman, 
 who was half strangled by the rude em 
 brace, and both rolled on the ground. 
 This man wore the costume of the 
 Apache Indians. The Coras regarded 
 him for an instant attentively, and then 
 a smile of contempt played round his 
 lips. 
 
 " You are not a redskin," he said, in 
 a hollow voice ; " you are only a pale 
 face dog. 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 lie had en 
 dured, made no reply. 
 
 " I could kill you/' the Indian con 
 tinued; "but my vengeance would not 
 
40 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 be complete. You and yours must pay 
 me for all the innocent 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 socket of his eye, gave it a sharp 
 rotatory movement, and plucked out 
 his eyeball. On this frightful mutila 
 tion, the wretch uttered a cry of pain 
 impossible to describe. The Indian 
 got up. 
 
 " Go !" he said to him. " Now I am 
 certain of finding you again whenever 
 1 want you." 
 
 At this moment the sound of hoofs 
 could be heard a short distance off: the 
 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 mo 
 ments later the rangers came up. 
 
 " Nathan, rny son !" Red Cedar 
 
 shouted as he leaped from his horse and 
 
 ^ threw himself on the body of the 
 
 wounded man. " Nathan, my firstborn, 
 
 is dead !" 
 
 " No," one of the rangers answered ; 
 " but he is very bad." 
 
 It was really the squatter's eldest son 
 whom the cacique 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 accomplished their task : 
 they had sixty human scalps hanging 
 from their girdles. The rancheria of 
 the Coras was no longer aught save a 
 pile of ashes. 
 
 Of all the inhabitants of this hapless 
 village only the cacique survived ; but 
 he would suffice to avenge his brothers. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE BUFFALO. 
 
 DON MIGUEL ZARATE, on leaving his 
 son, remounted his horse and rode 
 straight to Paso, to the house of Don 
 Luciano Perez, thejuez de letras (police 
 magistrate). 
 
 The haciendero was one of the 
 richest landed proprietors in the coun-i 
 try ; and as he was thoroughly ac 
 quainted with the spirit of the deposi 
 taries of justice in those parts, he had 
 consequently been careful to line his 
 purse well. Here were two reasons, 
 then, to interest the judge in his favor, 
 and this really happened. 
 
 The worthy Don Luciano shuddered 
 on hearing the details of what had oc 
 curred between Don Pablo and the 
 squatters. He swore that he would, 
 without delay, take an exemplary ven 
 geance for this starting felony on the 
 part of the heretic dogs, and that it was 
 bigh time to bring them reason. Con 
 firming himself more and more in his 
 resolution, he buckled on his sword, 
 orders to twenty well-armed al- 
 to mount, and placing himself 
 at the head of this numerous escort, he 
 proceeded toward Buffalo Valley. 
 
 Don Miguel had witnessed with secret 
 annoyance all these formidable prepara 
 tions. He placed but slight confidence 
 n the courage of the policemen, and he 
 would have preferred the judge leaving 
 lim master to act as he pleased. He 
 lad even adroitly attempted to obtain 
 rom Don Luciana a regular warrant, 
 which he would have executed however 
 
 might think proper ; but the judge, 
 turning with an unusual warlike ardor, 
 and spurred on by the large sum he had 
 eceived, would listen to nothing, but 
 nsisted on himself taking the head of 
 the expedition. 
 
 Don Luciano Perez was a plump 
 ittle man of about sixty years of age, 
 ound as a tub, with a jolly face, adorn- 
 id with a rubicund nose and two cun 
 ning little eyes. This man cordially- 
 detested the North Americans ; and, in 
 the courageous deed he was committing 
 at this moment, hatred was as much 
 the instigation as avarice. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 41 
 
 The little band set out at a canter, 
 and proceeded rapidly toward the for 
 est. The judge hurled 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 proba 
 bility have to do with men difficult to 
 intimidate, against whom coolness 
 would be the best weapon. 
 
 They gradually approached. The 
 haciendero, in order to shorten the 
 journey, had 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 two 
 miles off. The mischief produced by 
 the squatters was much more consider 
 able 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 ar 
 ranged at regular distances, and on the 
 San Pedro an already completed rait 
 only awaited a few more stems of trees 
 to be thrust into the water. 
 
 Don Miguel could not refrain from 
 sighing at the sight of the devastation 
 committed in one of his best forests; 
 but the nearer they approached the 
 spot where they expected to meet the 
 squatters, the more lukewarm grew 
 the ardor of the judge and his aco 
 lytes, and the haciendero soon found 
 himself compelled to urge them on, 
 instead of restraining them as he had 
 hitherto done. Suddenly the sound of 
 an axe re-echoed a few paces ahead of 
 tlie band. The judge impelled by the 
 fueling of his duty, and shame of ap-' 
 [tearing frightened, advanced boldly 
 in t ie direction of the sound, followed 
 by his escort. 
 
 " Stop !" a rough voice shouted at 
 the moment the policemen turned the 
 corner of a lane. 
 
 ^ ith that instinct of self-preserva 
 tion which never abandons them, the 
 
 alguazils stopped as if their horses' 
 feet had been suddenly welded to the 
 ground. Ten paces from them stood a 
 man in the centre of the ride, leaning 
 on an American rifle. The judge turn 
 ed to Don Miguel with such an expres 
 sion of hesitation and honest terror that 
 the haciendero could not refrain from 
 laughing. 
 
 " Come, courage, Don Luciano," he 
 said to him. " This man is alone ; he 
 cannot venture to bar our passage." 
 
 " Con mil diablos !" the judge ex 
 claimed, ashamed of this impression 
 which he could not master, and frown 
 ing portentiously, " forward, you fel 
 lows, and fire on that scoundrel if he 
 make but a sign to resist you." 
 
 The alguazils set out again with pru 
 dential hesitation. 
 
 " Stop ! I tell you again," the squat 
 ter repeated. " Did you not hear the 
 order I gave you ?" 
 
 The judge, reassured by the presence 
 of the haciendero, then advanced, and 
 said with a tone which he strove to 
 render terrible, but which was only 
 ridiculous through the terror he reveal 
 ed : 
 
 " I, Don Luciano Perez, juez de 
 letras 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 the judge, and 
 stamping his foot savagely. " 1 care as 
 much for all your words and laws as I 
 do fot 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 consider 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 dy well to leave me at peace, 
 unless they want to learn the weight 
 
42 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 of my arm at their expense. How 
 ever, here is rny lather ; settle it with 
 him." 
 
 And he began carelessly whistling 
 " Yankee Doodle." At the same in 
 stant three men, at the head of whom 
 was Red Cedar, appeared on the path. 
 At the sight of these unexpected rein 
 forcements for their arrogant enemy 
 the alguazils made a movement in re 
 treat. The affair was becoming singu 
 larly complicated, and threatened to 
 assume proportions very grave for 
 them. 
 
 "Halloh! what's up?" the old 
 man asked roughly. " Anything wrong, 
 Sutler ?" 
 
 " These people," the young man an 
 swered, shrugging his shoulders con 
 temptuously, "are talking about driving 
 Us from the forest by virtue of some 
 order." 
 
 " Ilalloh !" Red Cedar said, his eyes 
 flashing as he cast a savage glance at 
 the Mexicans. " The only law I re 
 cognise in the desert," he continued 
 with a gesture of terrible energy as he 
 struck his rifle barrel, " is this.. With 
 draw, strangers, if you do not wish 
 blood to be shed between us. I am a 
 peaceful man, wishing to do no one 
 hurt ; but I warn you that 1 will not 
 allow myself to be kicked out without 
 striking a blow." 
 
 41 You will not be turned out," the 
 judge remarked timidly ; "on the con 
 trary, you have seized on what belongs 
 to other people." 
 
 " I won't listen to your arguments, 
 which I do not understand," the squat 
 ter roughly exclaimed. " God gave 
 the ground to man that he might labor 
 on it. Every proprietor that does not 
 fulfil this condition tacitly renounces 
 his rights, and the earth then becomes 
 the property of the man who tills it 
 with the sweat of his brow; so go to 
 the devil ! Be ofTat full speed, if you 
 do not wish harm to happen to you !" 
 " We will not suffer ourselves to be 
 intimidated by your threats," the judge 
 said, impelled by his anger, and forget 
 ting 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 judge 
 said with energ}^, as he pointed out the 
 old man, " alguazils, seize that per 
 son." 
 
 But, as so frequently happens under 
 similar circumstances, this order was 
 more easy to give than to execute. Red 
 Cedar and his sons did not appear at all 
 disposed to let themselves be collared. 
 We must, however, do the alguazils the 
 justice cf stating that they did not hesi 
 tate for a moment. They plainly re 
 fused to carry out the order they had 
 received. 
 
 " 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 pro 
 ceed to extremities, the alguazils were 
 seized with an invincible terror. They 
 turned bridle and galloped off at lull 
 speed, followed by the yells of the 
 Americans. 
 
 One man alone remained motionless 
 before the squatters Don Miguel Za- 
 rate. Red Cedar had not recognised 
 him, either owing to the distance that 
 separated them, or because the haci- 
 endero had purposely pulled over his 
 eyes his broad-brimmed hat. Don 
 Miguel dismounted, placed the pistols 
 from his holsters through his belt, fas 
 tened his horse to a tree, and coolly 
 throwing his rifle across his shoulders, 
 boldly advanced toward the squatters. 
 The latter, surprised by the courage of 
 this man, who alone attempted what his 
 comrades had given up all hopes of 
 achieving, let him corne up to them 
 without offering the slightest opposition. 
 When Don Miguel was 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 recognise me, Red Cedar?" 
 
 " Don Miguel Zarate !" the bandit 
 shouted in surprise. 
 
 " As the judge deserts me," the had- 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 43 
 
 endero continued, "and fled like a 
 coward before your threats,'! am ob 
 liged to take justice for myself, and, by 
 heavens ! 1 will do so ! Red Cedar, I, 
 as owner of this forest, in which you 
 have settled without permission, order 
 you to depart at once." . 
 
 The young men exchanged a few mut 
 tered threats. 
 
 " Silence !" Red Cedar commanded. 
 " Let the caballero speak." 
 
 " 1 have finished, and await your an 
 swer." 
 
 The squatter appeared to reflect 
 deeply for a few minutes. 
 
 "The answer you demand is difficult 
 to give," he at length said : " my posi 
 tion 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 cannot forget the ser 
 vice you rendered me." 
 
 " It is of little consequence." 
 
 " Much more than you fancy, cabal 
 lero. 1 may be, through my character, 
 habits, and the mode of life I lead, be 
 yond the law of civilised beings ; but I 
 am not the less a man, and if of the 
 worst sort, perhaps, I 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 reputa 
 tion of being the providence- of the un 
 fortunate. 1 know from myself the ex 
 tent of your kindness and courage. It 
 is said that you possess an immense for 
 tune, of which you do not yourself know 
 the extent." 
 
 " Well, what then 1 ?" the haciendero 
 impatiently interrupted him. 
 
 " The damage 1 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 an 
 swer it. 1 demand your departure 
 from my estates, 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 mi 
 racle. 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 cannot be set 
 tled thus, so we will proceed to my 
 jacal." 
 
 " For what purpose ? I ask you for 
 a yes or no." 
 
 " I cannot 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 follow you." 
 
 Red Cedar made his sons a sign to 
 remain where they were, and proceeded 
 with long strides toward his jacal, which 
 was but *a short distance off. Don 
 Miguel walked carelessly after him. 
 They entered the cabin. It was desert 
 ed. The two females were doubtless 
 also occupied in the forest. Red Cedar 
 closed the door after him, sat down on 
 a bench, made his guest a sign to do the 
 same, and began speaking 1 in a low and 
 measured voice, us 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 intimidating you, nor do I 
 think of attempting to gain your confi 
 dence by revelations which you may 
 fairly assume 1 have accidentally ac 
 quired." 
 
 The haciendero regarded with amaze 
 ment the speaker, whose tone and man 
 ner had so suddenly changed. 
 
44 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " I do not 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, caballero ; 
 and if you do not catch the meaning of 
 my words this time it must be because 
 you will not. Like all intelligent men, 
 you are wearied of the incessant strug 
 gles in which the vital strength of your 
 country is exhausted unprofitably. 
 You have seen that a land so rich, so 
 fertile, so gloriously endowed as Mexi 
 co, could not I should say ought not 
 to remain longer the plaything of 
 paltry ambitions, and the arena on 
 which all these transitory tyrannies 
 sport in turn. For nearly thirty years 
 you have dreamed of emancipation, not 
 of your entire country, for that would 
 be too rude a task, and unrealisable ; 
 but you said to yourself: 
 
 " ' Let us render New Mexico inde 
 pendent ; form it into a new State, 
 governed by wise laws rigorously ex 
 ecuted. By liberal institutions let us 
 give an impetus to all the riches with 
 which it is choked, give intellect all the 
 liberty it requires, and perhaps within 
 a few years the entire Mexican Confe 
 deration, amazed by the magnificent re 
 sults I shall obtain, will follow my ex 
 ample. Then I shall die happy at what 
 I have effected my object will be car 
 ried out. I shall have saved my coun 
 try from the abyss over which it hangs, 
 through the double pressure of the in 
 vasion of the American Union and the 
 exhaustion of the Spanish race.' Are 
 not those ideas yours, caballero? Do 
 you consider that I have explained my 
 self clearly this time ?" 
 
 " Perhaps so, though 1 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 1 will 
 not pretend that 1 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 
 come to the point, for time presses." 
 
 " Patience : I have not yet ended. 
 
 These ideas must occur to you sooner 
 than to another, as you are the de 
 scendant of the first Aztec kings, and 
 born defender of the Indians in this 
 hapless country. You see that I am 
 well acquainted with you, Don Miguel 
 Zarate." 
 
 " Too well, perhaps," the Mexican 
 gentleman muttered. 
 
 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 solemn one. All your preparations 
 are made : will you hesitate to give 
 New Mexico the signal which must 
 render it independent of the metropolis 
 which has so long been fattening at its 
 expense 1 ? Answer me." 
 
 Don Miguel started. He fixed on the 
 squatter a burning glance, in which ad 
 miration at the man's language could 
 be read. Red Cedar shrugged his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " What ! you still doubt ?" he said. 
 
 He rose, went to a box from which 
 he took some papers, and threw them on 
 the tuble before the haciendero, saying : 
 
 " Read." 
 
 Don Miguel hurriedly seized the pa 
 pers, 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. Gen 
 eral 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 or 
 ders to enlist the volunteers who will 
 form the nucleus of the insurrectionary 
 army." 
 
 " Good !" 
 
 " Now, you see, by these letters of 
 General Ibanez and Mr. Wood, that I 
 am commissioned "by them to come to 
 an understanding with you, and receive 
 your final orders." 
 
 " 1 see it." 
 
 " What do you purpose doing ?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " What, nothing !" the squatter ex- 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 claimed, bounding with surprise. " You 
 are jesting, I suppose." 
 
 " Listen to me in your turn, and pay 
 attention to my words, for they ex 
 press my irrevocable resolution. I 
 know not nor care to know, by what 
 means, more or less honorable, you 
 have succeeded in gaining the confi 
 dence of my partners, and becoming 
 master of our secrets. Still it is my 
 firm conviction that a cause which em 
 ploys such men as yourself is compro 
 mised, if not lost ; hence I renounce 
 every combination in which you are 
 called to play a part. Your antece 
 dents, and the life you lead, have 
 placed you without the pale of the 
 law." 
 
 " I am a bandit out with it ! 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 partner." 
 
 The squatter darted a look at him 
 laden with hatred and disappointment. 
 
 " In serving us," Don Miguel contin 
 ued, " you can only have an interested 
 object, which I will not take the trou 
 ble of guessing at. An Anglo-Ameri 
 can will never frankly aid a Mexican 
 to conquer his liberty; he would lose 
 too much by doing it." 
 
 Then ?" 
 
 " 1 renounce for ever the projects 1 
 had formed. I had, I grant, dreamed 
 of restoring to my country the inde 
 pendence 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 now know what is 
 left me to do." 
 
 " Well, what is it? Let me hear," 
 the haciendero said, as he crossed his 
 arms on his breast, and looked him 
 boldly in the face. 
 
 " I will tell you." 
 
 " 1 am waiting for you to do so." 
 
 " I hold your secret." 
 
 " Entirely ?" 
 3 
 
 " Hence you are in my power." 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 " Who will prevent me going to the 
 Governor of the State and denouncing 
 you ?" 
 
 " He will not believe you." 
 
 "You think so?' 
 
 " I am sure of it." 
 
 " Perhaps, I will say in my turn." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " Oh ! you shall easily see." 
 
 " 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 num 
 ber of your enemies is very consider 
 able." 
 
 " 1 know it." 
 
 " Very good. Those enemies will 
 joyfully seize the first opportunity that 
 presents itself to destroy you." 
 
 " It is probable." 
 
 " You see, then. When I go to the 
 governor and tell him 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 important 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 ironi 
 cal smile, "' have more reasons than 
 others for being prudent." 
 
 " Come, that is well played," the 
 haciendero 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 will remain as we are, if you 
 will permit me." 
 
 " You still refuse ?" 
 
 " More than ever." 
 
46 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 The squatter frowned. 
 
 " Take care, Don Miguel," he mut 
 tered, hoarsely. " I will do what I told 
 you." 
 
 " Yes, if I allow you time." 
 
 " Eh ?" 
 
 " Caspita ! if you are a clever scamp, 
 I am not altogether a fool. Do you 
 believe, in your turn, that I will let my 
 self be intimidated by your threats, and 
 that I should not find means to keep 
 you from acting, not for my own sake, 
 as I care little personally for what you 
 can do, but for my friends, who are men 
 of honor, and whose lives I do not wish 
 to be compromised by your treachery 1 ?" 
 
 " 1 am curious to know the means 
 you will employ to obtain this result/' 
 
 " You shall see," Don Miguel replied 
 with perfect coolness. 
 
 " Well?" 
 
 " I shall kill you." 
 
 " Oh, oh !" the squatter said, as he 
 looked complacently at his muscular 
 limbs, " that is not easy." 
 
 " More so than you suppose, my 
 master." 
 
 " Hum ! and when do you reckon on 
 killing me ?" 
 
 " At once !" 
 
 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, so 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 attack, seized him by the 
 throat, and hurled him to the ground. 
 The two enemies rolled on the uneven 
 flooring of the jacal. 
 
 The Mexican's attack had been so 
 sudden and well directed that the half- 
 strangled squatter, in spite of his Her 
 culean 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 Mexi 
 can'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 vaquera. boot a long sharp 
 knife, and buried the entire blade in his 
 body. The bandit writhed convulsive 
 
 ly 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, " 1 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, so soon as they per 
 ceived the Mexican, they went up to 
 him. 
 
 " Well," Shaw asked him, " have you 
 come to an understanding with the old 
 man ?" 
 
 " Perfectly so," the Mexican an 
 swered. , 
 
 " Then the affair is settled " 
 
 " Yes, to our mutual satisfaction." 
 
 " All the better," the young men ex 
 claimed joyously. 
 
 The haciendero unfastened his horse 
 and mounted. 
 
 " Good- by, gentlemen !" he said to 
 them. 
 
 " Good-by !" they replied, returning 
 his bow. 
 
 The Mexican 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 be 
 lieve that we can proceed to the cabin 
 without inconvenience." 
 
 And they gently walked toward the 
 jacal, pleasantly conversing together. 
 
 Don Miguel, however, had not suc 
 ceeded so tully as he imagined. Red 
 Cedar was not dead, for the old bandit 
 kept a firm hold on life. Attacked un 
 awares, the squatter had not attempted 
 a resistance, which he saw at the first 
 glance was useless, and would only have 
 exasperated his adversary. With mar 
 vellous sagacity, on feeling the knife 
 blade enter his body, he stiffened him 
 self ayainst the pain, and resolved on 
 " playing 'possum ;" that is to say, 
 feigrnhui death. The success of his 
 
 D O 
 
THE TRAIL-HtfNTER. 
 
 47 
 
 stratagem was complete. Don Miguel, 
 persuaded that he had killed him, did 
 not dream of repeating his thrust. 
 
 So long as his enemy remained in 
 the jacal the squatter was careful not to 
 make the slightest movement that might 
 have betrayed him ; but, so soon as he 
 was alone, he opened his eyes, rose with 
 an effort, drew the dagger from the 
 wound, which emitted a jet of black 
 blood, and looking at the door, through 
 which his assassin had departed, with a 
 glance so full of hatred that it is impos 
 sible 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 !'' 
 
 Pie uttered a deep sigh, and rolled 
 heavily on the ground in a fainting fit. 
 At this moment his sons entered the 
 cabin. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE SACHEM OF THE CORAS. 
 
 A FEW days after the events we have 
 described in the previous chapter there 
 was one of those lovely mornings 
 which are not accorded to our cold 
 climates to know. The sun poured 
 down in profusion its warm beams, 
 which caused the pebbles and sand to 
 glisten in the walks of the garden of 
 the Hacienda de la Noria. In a clump 
 of flowering orange and lemon trees, 
 whose sweet exhalations perfumed the 
 jiir, and beneath a copse of cactus, 
 nopals, and aloes, a maiden was asleep, 
 carelessly reclining in a hammock made 
 of the thread of the Phormium tenax, 
 which hung between two orange trees. 
 
 With her head thrown back, her long 
 black hair unfastened, and falling in 
 disorder on her neck and bosom ; with 
 her coral lips parted, and displaying 
 the dazzling pearl of her teeth, Dona 
 Clara (for it was she who slept thus 
 with an infantile slumber) was really 
 charming. Her features breathed hap 
 piness, for not a cloud had yet arisen 
 to perturb the azure horizon of her 
 calm and tranquil life. 
 
 It was nearly mid-day : there was 
 not a breath in the air. The sunbeams, 
 pouring down vertically, rendered the 
 heat so stifling and unsupportable, that 
 every one in the hacienda had yielded 
 to sleep, and was enjoying what is gen 
 erally called in hot countries the siesta. 
 Still, at a short distance from the spot 
 where Dona Clara reposed, calm and 
 smiling, a sound of footsteps, at first al 
 most imperceptible, but gradually 
 heightening, 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 
 perspiration poured down his cheeks. 
 On reaching the entrance of the clump 
 he bent an anxious glance on the ham 
 mock. 
 
 " She is there," he murmured with a 
 passionate 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 ex 
 pression. 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 wake 
 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 al 
 most immediately returning, he seized, 
 with a nervous hand, Dona Clara's rebozo, 
 which hung down from the hammock, 
 and pressed it to his lips several times, 
 saying, in a voice broken by the emo 
 tion he felt : " It has touched her hair." 
 
 And rushing from the thicket, he 
 crossed the garden and disappeared. 
 He had heard footsteps approaching. 
 In fac.t, a few seconds after his departure, 
 Don Miguel, in his turn, entered the 
 copse. 
 
 " Come, come," he said gaily, as ke 
 shook the hammock, " sleeper, will you 
 not have finished your siesta soon ?" 
 
 Dona Clara opened her eyes, with a 
 smile. 
 
 " I am no longer asleep, father," she 
 said. 
 
48 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 "Very good. That is the answer I 
 like." 
 
 And he stepped forward to kiss her ; 
 but, with sudden movement, the maid 
 en drew herself back as if she had seen 
 some frightful vision, and her face was 
 covered with a livid pallor. 
 
 " What is the matter with you T' 
 the haciendero exclaimed with terror. 
 
 The girl showed him the orange flow 
 er. 
 
 " Well," her father continued, " what 
 is there so terrific in that flower? It 
 must have fallen from the tree during 
 your sleep." 
 
 Dona 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 pale as death, 
 child. Why frighten yourself thus 
 about a trifle ? Besides the remedy 
 may be easily found. If so afraid of 
 flowers now, why not take your siesta 
 in your bedroom, instead of burying 
 yourself in this thicket ?" 
 
 " That is true, father," the girl said, 
 all joyous, and no longer thinking of 
 the fear she had undergone. " I will 
 follow your advice." 
 
 " Come, that is settled, so say no 
 more about it. Now give me a kiss." 
 
 The maiden threw herself into her 
 father's arms, whom she stifled with 
 kisses. Both sat down on a grassy 
 mound, and commenced one of those 
 delicious chit-chats whose charm only 
 those who are parents can properly 
 appreciate. Presently a peon came up. 
 
 " What has brought you ?" Don Mi 
 guel asked. 
 
 " Excellency," the peon answered, "a 
 redskin warrior has just arrived at the 
 hacienda, who desires speech with 
 you." 
 
 " Do you know him ?" Don Miguel 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes, Excellency ; it is Eagle-wing, 
 the sachem of the Coras of the Rio San 
 Pedro." 
 
 " Mookapec !" the haciendero re 
 peated with surprise. " What can 
 have brought him to me ? Lead him 
 here." 
 
 The peon retired, and in a few min 
 utes returned, preceding Eagle-wing. 
 
 The chief hud donned the great war 
 dress of the sachems of his nation. His 
 hair, plaited with the skin of a rattle 
 snake, was drawn up on the top of his 
 head ; in the centre an eagle plume was 
 affixed. A blouse of striped calico, 
 adorned with a profusion of bells, de 
 scended to his thighs, which were de 
 fended from the stings of mosquitos by 
 drawers of the same stuff*. He wore 
 moccasins made of peccari skin, adorned 
 with glass beads and porcupine quills. 
 To his heels were fastened several 
 wolves' tails, the distinguishing mark of 
 renowned warriors. Round his loins 
 was a belt of elk-hide, through which 
 passed his knife, his pipe and his medi 
 cine-bag. His neck was adorned by a 
 collar of grizzly bear claws and buffa 
 lo teeth. Finally, a magnificent robe 
 of a white female buffalo hide, painted 
 red inside, was fastened to his shoul 
 ders, and fell down behind him like a 
 cloak. In his right hand he held a fan 
 formed of a single eagle's wing, and in 
 his left hand an American rifle. There 
 was something imposing and singularly 
 martial in the appearance and demean 
 or of this savage child of the forest. 
 
 On entering the thicket, he bowed 
 gracefully to Dona Clara, and then stood 
 motionless and dumb before Don 
 Miguel. The Mexican regarded him 
 attentively, and saw an expression of 
 gloomy melancholy spread over the In 
 dian chief's features. 
 
 " My brother is welcome," the haci 
 endero said to him. " To wh it do I 
 owe the pleasure of seeing him ?" 
 
 The chief cast a side-glance at the 
 maiden. Don Miguel understood what 
 he desired, and made Dona Clara a sign 
 to withdraw. They remained alone. 
 
 " My brother can speak," the hacien 
 dero then said ; " the ears of a friend 
 are open." 
 
 " Yes, my father is good," the chief 
 replied in his guttural voice. " He 
 loves the Indians : unhappily all the 
 palefaces 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 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 49 
 
 skins?" he said. "The Indians are 
 aninuils: the Great Spirit has not given 
 them a soul, as He has done for the 
 palelaces, and it is not a crime to kill 
 them." 
 
 " Come, chief, pray do not speak 
 longer in riddles, but explain why you 
 
 ve quitted your tribe. It is far from 
 Rio San Pedro to this place." 
 
 " Mookapec is alone : his tribe no 
 longer exists." 
 
 " How ?" 
 
 " The palefaces came in the night, 
 ike jaguars without courage. They 
 uurned the village, and massacred all 
 the inhabitants, even to the women and 
 ittle children." 
 
 "Oh, that is frightful!" the hacien- 
 dero murmured, in horror. 
 
 " Ah !" the chief continued with an 
 accent full of terrible irony, " the scalps 
 of the redskins are sold dearly/' 
 
 " And do you know the men who 
 ommitted this atrocious crime ?" 
 
 " Mookapec knows them, and will 
 avenge himself." 
 
 "Tell me their chief, if you know his 
 name." 
 
 " I know it. The palefaces call him 
 Eled 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 mv- 
 self." 
 
 The Indian shook his head. 
 
 " Red Cedar has a hard life," he said : 
 
 the blade of the knife rny 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 Indi 
 ans." 
 
 This news startled the haciendero : 
 the enemy he fancied he had got rid of 
 still lived, and he would have to begin 
 a fresh struggle. 
 
 " My father must take care," the 
 chief continued. " Red Cedar has 
 sworn to be avenged." 
 
 " Oh ! 1 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." 
 
 "J will aid my father in his ven 
 geance." 
 
 " Thanks, chief. I do not refuse your 
 offer : perhaps I shall soon need the 
 help of all my friends. And now, 
 what do you purpose doing ?" 
 
 " Since the palefaces reject him, 
 Eagle-wing will retire to the desert. 
 He has friends among the Comanches. 
 They are redskins, and will welcome 
 him gladly." 
 
 " 1 will not strive to combat your de 
 termination, chief, for it is just ; and if, 
 at a later date, you take terrible repri 
 sals on the white men, they will have 
 no cause of complaint, for they have * 
 brought it on themselves. When does 
 my brother start?" . 
 
 " At sunset." 
 
 " Rest here to-day : to-morrow will 
 be soon enough to set out." 
 
 " Mookapec must depart this day." 
 
 " Act as you think proper. Have 
 you a horse ?" 
 
 " No ; but at the first manada 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 your 
 self." . 
 
 " I have still a few words to say to 
 rny father." 
 
 "Speak, chief; I am listening to 
 you." 
 
 " Koutonepi, the pale hunter, begged 
 me to give my father an important 
 warning." 
 
 "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 faithfully repeat my father's 
 words to the hunter." 
 
 The two men then quitted the gar 
 den, and hurriedly proceeded toward 
 the hacienda. Don Miguel let the 
 chief choose his own horse, and 
 while the sachem was harnessing his 
 steed in the Indian fashion, he withdrew 
 to his bedroom, and sent for his son to 
 join him. The young man had perfect- 
 
50 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 ly recovered from his wound. His 
 father told him that he was obliged to 
 absent himself for some days : he in 
 trusted to him the management of the 
 hacienda, while recommending 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 perfect 
 liberty for a few days. 
 
 After embracing his son and daughter 
 for the last time Don Miguel proceeded 
 to the patio, where in the mean while, 
 the chief had been amusing himself by 
 making the magnificent horse he had 
 chosen curvet. Don Miguel admired 
 for*several moments the Indian's skill 
 and grace, for he managed a horse as 
 well as the first Mexican ginete ; th*;-. 
 mounted, and the two men proceeded 
 together toward the Paso del Norte, 
 which they must cross in order to en 
 ter the desert, and reach the clearing of 
 the shattered oak. 
 
 The journey passed in silence, for the 
 two men were deeply reflecting. At 
 the moment they entered Paso 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 vil 
 lage they separated ; and on the mor 
 row, as we have seen in our first chap 
 ter, Don Miguel set out at daybreak, 
 and galloped to the clearing. 
 
 We will now end this lengthy paren 
 thesis, which was, however, indispens 
 able for the due comprehension, of the 
 facts that are about to follow, and take 
 up our story again, at the point where 
 we left it. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 CONVERSATION. 
 
 VALENTINE GUILLOIS, whom we have 
 already introduced to the reader in pre 
 vious works (See " Tiger-Slayer," etc.), 
 had inhabited, or, to speak more cor 
 rectly, 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 returned to the desert. 
 
 Now and then they engjiged them 
 selves for a week, or even a fortnight, 
 with the proprietors of the haciendas, to 
 free them from the wild beasts that 
 desolated their herds; but so soon as 
 the ferocious animals were destroyed, 
 and the reward obtained, no matter the 
 brilliancy of the offers made them by 
 the land-owners, the two men threw 
 their rifles on their shoulders and went 
 off. 
 
 No one knew who they were, or 
 whence they came. Valentine and his 
 friend maintained the most complete si 
 lence as to the events of their life which 
 had preceded their appearance in these 
 parts. Only one thing had betrayed 
 the nationality of Valentine, whom his 
 comrade called Koutonepi, a word be 
 longing to the language of the Aucas, 
 and signifying " The Valiant." On his 
 chest the hunter wore the cross of the 
 Legion of Honor. The deeds of every 
 description performed by these hunters 
 were incalculable, and their stories were 
 the delight of the frontier dwellers dur 
 ing the winter night. The number of 
 tigers they had killed was no longer 
 counted. 
 
 Chance had one day made them ac 
 quainted with Don Miguel Zarate under 
 strange circumstances, and since then au 
 uninterrupted friendship had been main 
 tained between them. Don Miguel, 
 during a tempestuous night, namely, 
 had only owed his life to the accuracy 
 of Valentine's aim, who sent a bullet 
 through the head of the Mexican'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 saviour. 
 
 Valentine and Curumilla had made 
 themselves the tutors of the haciendero's 
 children, who, for their part, felt a deep 
 friendship for the hunters. Don Pablo 
 had frequently made long hunting par 
 ties in the desert with them ; and it 
 was to them he owed the certainty of 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 51 
 
 his aim, his skill in handling weapons, 
 and his knack in taming horses. 
 
 No secrets existed between Don 
 Miguel and the hunters : they read in 
 his mind as in an ever-open hook. 
 They were the disinterested confidants 
 of his plans : for these rude wood- 
 rangers esteemed him, and only requir 
 ed lor themselves one thing the liber 
 ty of the desert. Still, despite the 
 sympathy and friendship which so 
 closely connected these different per 
 sons, and the confidence which formed 
 the basis of that friendship, Don Mi 
 guel and his children had never been 
 able to obtain from the hunters infor 
 mation as to the events that had passed 
 prior to their arrival in this country. 
 
 Frequently Don Miguel, impelled, 
 not by curiosity, but merely by the in 
 terest he felt in them, had tried, by 
 words cleverly thrown into the conver 
 sation, to give them an opening for con 
 fidence ; but Valentine had always re 
 pelled those hints, though cleverly 
 enough for Don Miguel not to feel of 
 fended by this want of confidence. 
 With Curumilla they had been even 
 more simple. Wrapped in his Indian 
 stoicism, intrenched in his habitual 
 sullenness, he was wont to answer all 
 questions by a shake of the head, but 
 nothing further. 
 
 At length, weary of the attempt, the 
 haciendero and his family had given up 
 trying to read those secrets which their 
 friends seemed obstinately determined 
 to keep from them. Still the friendship 
 subsisting between them had not grown 
 cold in consequence, and it was always 
 with equal pleasure that Don Miguel 
 met the hunters again after a lengthen 
 ed ramble in the prairies, which kept 
 them away from his house for whole 
 months at a time. 
 
 The hunter and the Mexican were 
 seated by the fire, while Curumilla, 
 armed with his scalping-knife, was 
 busy flaying the two jaguars so skillful 
 ly killed by Don Miguel, and which 
 were magnificent brutes. 
 
 " Eh, compadre /" Don Miguel said 
 vith a laugh; " 1 was beginning to lose 
 patience, and fancy you had forgotten 
 the meeting you had yourself given 
 me." 
 
 " I never forgot anything, as you 
 know," Valentine answered seriously ; 
 " a'id if I did not arrive sooner, it was 
 because the road is long from my jacal 
 to this clearing." 
 
 " Heaven forbid that I should re 
 proach you, my friend ! Still I con 
 fess to you that the prospect of pass 
 ing the night alone in this torest only 
 slightly pleased me, and I should have 
 been off had you not arrived before 
 sunset." 
 
 " You would have done wrong, Don 
 Miguel : what I have to tell you is o( 
 the utmost 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 consequences threaten to be most 
 serious for you." 
 
 'What is it?" 
 
 " 1 said one, but ought to have said 
 two." 
 
 " I am waiting till you think proper 
 to express yourself more clearly," Don 
 Miguel said with a slight tinge of im 
 patience, " before I answer." 
 
 " You have quarrelled with a North 
 American 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 f was wrong. 
 What would you 1 The villain has as 
 tough a life as an alligator. But be at 
 ease. If ever he fall into my hands 
 again, 1 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. 1 do not know 
 how he contrived to deceive your New 
 York agent ; but he gained his confi 
 dence so cleverly that the laiter told 
 him all the secrets he knew about your 
 enterprise." 
 
 " He told me so himself,'' 
 
52 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " Very good. It was then, I suppose, 
 that yuu stabbed him ?" 
 
 "Yes, and at the same time I 
 plucked out his claws ; that is to say, I 
 seized the letters he held, and which 
 might compromise me." 
 
 " A mistake. This man is too 
 thorough-paced a scoundrel not to fore 
 see all the chances of his treason. He 
 had a last letter, the most important of 
 all ; and that you did riot 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 leathern bag 
 hung round his neck by a steel chain ; 
 you did not dream of looking for 
 that." 
 
 " But what importance can this let 
 ter, I do not even remember writing, 
 possess, that you should attach such 
 weight to it ?" 
 
 " It is merely the agreement drawn 
 up between yourself, General Ibanez, 
 and Mr. Wood, and bearing your three 
 signatures." 
 
 " Con mil demonios !" the haciende- 
 ro exclaimed in terror. " In that case 
 I am lost ; for if this man really pos 
 sesses 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 position is critical, I allow, but 1 
 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 he could sit a horse, was to go to 
 Santa Fe, the capital of New Mexico, 
 and denounce you to the Governor. 
 That has nothing to surprise you from 
 such a man. 1 ' 
 
 " Then I can only fly as speedily as 
 I can ?" 
 
 " 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 be 
 
 lieve, in the finest stage of develop 
 ment. Avarice, before all, has reached 
 its acme with him." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " This happened. Our man de 
 nounced you to the governor as a con 
 spirator, etc., but was careful not to 
 give up the proof's he possessed in sup 
 port of the denunciation at the outset. 
 When General Isturitz, the governor 
 asked him for these proofs, he answered , 
 that he was ready to supply them in 
 exchange for the sum of one hundred 
 thousand piastres* in gold." 
 
 " Ah !" the haciendero said, with a 
 breath of relief, "and what did Isturitz 
 say ?" 
 
 " The general is one of your most in 
 veterate enemies, 1 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 him 
 self, as the government does not recog 
 nise transactions of that nature." 
 
 "Well, what did Red Cedar do 
 then r 
 
 " He did not allow himself beaten ; 
 on the contrary, he told the general he 
 wculd 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 are Frenchmen." 
 
 "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 yourself be 
 crushed by the first reverse. Who 
 knows but that it may all be for the 
 best?" 
 
 " Ah, my friend, I am alone ! Gene 
 ral Ibanez, who alone could help me in 
 this critical afluir, is fifty leagues off. 
 What can I do ? Nothing." 
 
 "All. I foresaw your objection. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 53 
 
 Eacle-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 convinced." 
 
 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, gaily, 
 " I have done something else too. 
 When the time arrives I will tell you 
 what it is. But let us not lose an hour. 
 What do you intend to do for the pre 
 sent ?" 
 
 " Act." 
 
 " Good : that is the way I like to 
 hear you talk." 
 
 " Yes, but I must first come to an 
 understanding with the general." 
 
 " That is true ; but it is the least 
 thing," Valentine answered, as he looked 
 skyward, and attentively 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 en 
 trance of the Canon del Buitre. We 
 have four hours before us, and that is 
 more than we require, as we have only 
 ten leagues to go." 
 
 " Let us go, let us go !" Don Miguel 
 exclaimed 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 under 
 stand. The Indian rose without reply 
 ing, and disappeared iu the density of 
 the forest. 
 
 "You know," Valentine continued, 
 " that I prefer, through habit, traveling 
 on foot; still, as under present circum 
 stances minutes are precious, and we 
 must not lose them, 1 have provided 
 two horses." 
 
 " You think of everything, 
 friend." 
 
 " Yes, when I have to act for those 
 I love," Valentine answered with a 
 retrospective sigh. 
 
 There was a moment's silence be 
 tween the two men, and at the end 
 of scarce a quarter of an hour there 
 
 my 
 
 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 
 striking resemblance to the steeds of 
 the Apaches, on whose territory our 
 friends now were. They were literally 
 covered with eagle plumes, beads, and 
 ribbons, while long red and white 
 spots completed their disguise, and 
 rendered it almost impossible to re 
 cognise 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 cer 
 tain monk by the name of Fray Arn- 
 brosio T' 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Take care of that man he betrays 
 you." 
 
 "You believe it? 1 ' 
 
 " I am sure of it." 
 
 " Good ! I will remember." 
 
 " All right. Now we will be off," 
 Valentine said, as he buried his spurs 
 in his horse's flanks. 
 
 And the three horsemen rushed into 
 the darkness with headlong speed. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 EL MESOIT. 
 
 THE day on which our story com 
 mences the village of the Paso del 
 Norte presented an extraordinary ap 
 pearance- The bells were ringing out 
 full peals, for the three hundredth, 
 anniversary of its foundation was cele 
 brated. The population of Paso, great 
 ly diminished since the proclamation 
 of Mexican independence, was hurry 
 ing to the churches, which flashed 
 with silver and gold. The houses 
 were decorated with rich tapestry, and 
 the streets strewn with flowers. 
 
 Toward nightfall the inhabitants, 
 whom the intolerable heat of the 
 tropical sun had kept prisoners in the 
 interior of the houses, flocked out to 
 
54 
 
 THE TRATL-HUNTER. 
 
 inhale the sharp perfumes of the desert 
 breeze, and bring back a little fresh 
 air into their parched lungs. The 
 town, which had for several hours ap 
 peared deserted, suddenly woke up : 
 shouts and laughter were heard afresh. 
 The walks were invaded by the mob, 
 and in a few minutes the mesons were 
 thronged with idlers, who began drink 
 ing pulque and mezcal, while smoking 
 their cigarettes, and strumming the ja- 
 rabe and vihuela. 
 
 In a house of poor appearance, built 
 like all its neighbors, of earth bricks, 
 and situated at the angle formed by the 
 Plaza Mayor and the Calle de la Mer 
 ced, some twenty-five fellows, whom it 
 was easy to recognize as adventurers by 
 the feather in their hats, their upturned 
 moustaches, and specially by the long 
 bronzed-hilted sword they wore on the 
 thigh, were drinking torrents of aguar 
 diente and pulque at the gambling 
 tables, while yelling like deaf men, 
 swearing like pagans, and threatening at 
 every moment to unsheath their wea 
 pons. 
 
 In a corner of the room occupied by 
 these troublesome guests two men, 
 seated opposite each other at a table, 
 seemed plunged in deep thought, and 
 looked round them absently, not think 
 ing 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 con 
 trast. They were still young. The 
 first, aged twenty-five at the most, had 
 one of those frank, honest, and energetic 
 faces which call for sympathy, and at 
 tract respect. His pallid brow, his face 
 of a delicate hue, surrounded by his 
 long black curls, his straight and flexi 
 ble nose, his mouth filled with a double 
 row of teeth of dazzling whiteness, and 
 surmounted by a slight brown mous 
 tache, gave him a stamp of distinction, 
 which was the more striking owing to 
 the strict, and perhaps common, style 
 of his attire. 
 
 He wore the costume of the wood- 
 rangers ; that is to say, the Canadian 
 mitasse, fastened round the hips, and 
 descending to the ankle ; botas vaqueras 
 of deer skin, fastened at the knee ; and 
 a striped zarape of brilliant colors. A 
 
 panama straw hat was thrown on the 
 table, within reach of his hand, by the 
 side of an American rifle and two 
 double-barrelled pistols. A machete 
 hung on his left side, and the hilt of .. 
 long knife peeped out of his left boot. 
 
 His companion was short and thick 
 set; but his well-knit limbs and his out 
 standing muscles indicated no ordinary 
 strength. His face, the features of 
 which were common-place enough, had 
 a cunning look, which suddenly disap 
 peared to make room for a certain no 
 bility whenever under the influence of 
 any sudden emotion ; his eyebrows 
 contracted ; and his glance, ordinarily 
 veiled, 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 Hispano- American 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. " After due consideration, Harry, 
 I believe we shall do better by mount 
 ing our horses again, and starting, in 
 stead of remaining in this horrible den, 
 amid these gachupinos, who croak like 
 frogs before a storm." 
 
 " Deuce take your impat'ence !" the 
 other replied ill-temperedly. " Can't 
 you remain a moment at rest,?" 
 
 " You call it a moment, Harry. 
 Why, we have been here an hour." 
 
 " By Jove ! Dick, you're a wonderful 
 fellow," the other continued with a 
 laugh. " Do you think that business 
 can be settled all in a moment ?" 
 
 " After all, what is our game 1 For 
 may the old one twist my neck, or a 
 grizzly give me a hug, if I know the 
 least in the world ! for five years we 
 have hunted and slept side by side. 
 We have come from Canada together 
 to this place. I have grown into a hab 
 it I cannot say why of referring to 
 you everything that concerns our mu 
 tual interests. Still I should not be 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 55 
 
 sorry to know, if only for the rarity of 
 
 the fact, why on earth we left the prai 
 
 ries, where we were so well off, to come 
 
 here, where we are so badly off." 
 " Have you ever repented, up to 
 
 to-day, the confidence you placed ii 
 
 me?" 
 
 " I do not say so, Harry. Heaven 
 
 "brbid ! Still I think " 
 
 " You think wrong," the young man 
 
 sharply interrupted. " Let me alone 
 f 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 eyes of 
 
 Dick, the smaller of the hunters, glis 
 tened 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." 
 
 In fact, a man entered at this mo 
 ment. On his appearance a sudden si 
 lence fell on the meson ; the adventur 
 ers gambling and cursing at all the 
 tables, 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 re 
 mained for an instant en the threshold 
 of the venta, took a profound glance at 
 the company, and then walked toward 
 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 Span 
 ish monks of which Titian has so admi 
 rably caught the expression on his can 
 vas. He passed throngh the adventur 
 ers, holding out right and left his wide 
 sleeves, which 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 
 wish to speak for a few moments with 
 those two gentlemen." 
 
 The adventurers did not let the in 
 vitation be repeated, but took their 
 places again tumultuously, and soon 
 
 cries and oaths recommenced with 
 equal intensity. 
 
 The monk smiled, took a butacca, 
 and seated himself between the two 
 hunters, while bending a searching 
 glance on them. 
 
 The latter had followed with a mock 
 ing eye all the interludes of this little 
 scene, and without making a movement, 
 they let the monk seat himself by their 
 side. So soon as he had done so, Har 
 ry poured him out a large glass of 
 pulque, and placed within his reach the 
 squares of maize leaf and tobacco. 
 
 " Drink and smoke, senor padre," he 
 said to him. 
 
 The monk, without any observation, 
 rolled a cigarette, emptied the glass of 
 pulque at a draught, and then leaning 
 his elbows on the table and bending 
 forward, said : 
 
 " You are punctual." 
 
 " We have been waiting an hour," 
 Dick observed in a rough voice. 
 
 " What is an hour in the presence of 
 ternity ?" the monk said with a smile. 
 
 " Let us not lose any more time," 
 Harry continued. " What have you to 
 >ropose to us T' 
 
 The monk looked around him suspi- 
 iously, 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 
 ndifference to me. If I have an ar 
 dent desire to obtain it, it is, in the 
 irst place, because it belongs to no- 
 )ody, and will permit me to relieve the 
 rvretchedness of the thousands of beings 
 confided to my charge." 
 
 " Of course, senor padre," Harry an 
 swered seriously. " Let us not weigh 
 onger on these details. According to 
 what you told me a few days back, you 
 lave discovered a rich placer." 
 
 " Not I," the monk sharply objected. 
 
 " No consequence, provided that it 
 exists," Dick answered. 
 
 " Pardon me, but it is of great con- 
 
 equence to me. I do not wish to take 
 
 n myself the responsibility of such a 
 
 liscovery. If, as I believe, people will 
 
 go in search of it, it may entail the 
 
56 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 death of several persons, and the church 
 abhors bloodshed." 
 
 " Very good : you only desire to 
 profit by it." 
 
 " Not for myself." 
 
 " For your parishioners. Very good ; 
 but let u* try to come to an understand- 
 ding, if possible, for our time is too 
 precious for us to waste it in empty 
 talk." 
 
 " Volga me Dios /" the monk said, 
 crossing himself, " how you have re 
 tained the impetuosity of your French 
 origin ! Have a little patience, and 1 
 will explain myself." 
 
 " That is all we desire." 
 
 " But you will promise me " 
 
 " Nothing," Dick interrupted. " We 
 are honest hunters, and not accustomed 
 to pledge ^ourselves so lightly before 
 knowing positively what is asked of 
 us." 
 
 Harry supported his friend's words 
 by a nod. Tne monk drank a glass of 
 pulque, and took two or three heavy 
 puffs at his cigarette. 
 
 " Your will be done," he then said. 
 " You are terrible men. This is the 
 affair." 
 
 " Go on." 
 
 " A poor scamp of a gambusino, lost, 
 I know not how, in the great desert, 
 discovered at a considerable distance 
 off, between the Rio Gila and the Col 
 orado, the richest placer the wildest 
 imagination can conceive. According 
 to his statement the gold is scattered 
 over the surface, for an extent of two 
 or three miles, in nuggets, each of which 
 would make a man's fortune. This 
 gambusino, dazzled by such treasures, 
 but unable to appropriate them alone, 
 displayed the greatest energy, and 
 braved the utmost perils, in order to 
 regain civilised 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 to reach Paso safe and sound." 
 
 " Very good," Dick observed. " All 
 this may very 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 1 
 He would have supplied us with infor 
 
 mation which is indispensable for us, in 
 the event of our consenting to help you 
 in looking for this treasure." 
 
 "Alas!" the monk replied, hypo 
 critically casting his eyes down, " 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 quarrelled with 
 another gambusino, and received a stab 
 which sent him a few hours later to the 
 tomb." 
 
 " In that case," Harry observed, 
 " how did you learn all these details, 
 sen or padre ]" 
 
 " In a very simple way, my son. It 
 was I who reconciled the poor wretch 
 in his last moments with Heaven ; and," 
 he added, with an air of compunction 
 splendidly assumed, " when he under 
 stood that his end was at hand, and that 
 nothing could save him, he confided to 
 me, in gratitude for the consolation I 
 bestowed on him, what I have just told 
 you, revealed to me the situation of the 
 placer, and for greater certainty gave 
 me a clumsy chart he had drawn out 
 on the spot. You see that we can pro 
 ceed almost with certainty." 
 
 "Yes," Harry said, thoughtfully; 
 " but why, instead of first applying to 
 the Mexicans, your countrymen, did 
 you propose to us to help you in your 
 enterprise ?" 
 
 " Because the Mexicans are men who 
 cannot be trusted, and before reaching 
 the placer we should have to fight the 
 Apaches and Comanches, on whose ter 
 ritory it is situated." 
 
 After these words, there was a 
 lengthened silence between the three 
 speakers : each was reflecting deeply on 
 what he had just heard. The monk 
 tried to read with cunning eye the im 
 pression produced on the hunters by 
 his confidence ; but his hopes were de 
 ceived. 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 at 
 tempt such an enterprise in unknown 
 region* peopled by ferocious tribes. It 
 would require at least fifty resolute and 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 57 
 
 devoted men, otherwise nothing could 
 be possible." 
 
 'You are right, and hence I did not 
 calculate on you alone. You will have 
 determined men under your orders, 
 chosen carefully by myself, and I shall 
 also accompany you." 
 
 " Unluckily, if you have counted on 
 us, you are mistaken, senor padre," 
 Harry said, peremptorily. " We are 
 honest hunters ; but the trade of a gam- 
 busino does not at all suit us. Even 
 if we had a chance of gaining an incal 
 culable fortune, we would not consent 
 to take part in an expedition of gold 
 seekers." 
 
 " 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 
 suffused his face, and it was in a voice 
 choked by emotion that he exclaimed : 
 
 " Have you spoken with him about 
 it?" 
 
 " Here he is ; you can ask him," the 
 monk answered. 
 
 In fact, a man was entering the me 
 son at this moment. Harry looked 
 down in confusion, while Dick tapped 
 the table with his dagger and whistled. 
 A smile of undefinable meaning wan 
 dered over the monk's pallid lips. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 RED CEDAR. 
 
 RED CEDAR was more than six feet 
 in height ; his enormous head was fas 
 tened to his square shoulders by a short 
 and muscular neck, like a bull's ; his 
 bony members were covered with mus 
 cles 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 greyish hair, and fell on his little 
 grey 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 disap 
 peared in a thick black beard, mingled 
 with grey hairs. He wore a hunting 
 shirt of striped calico, fastened round 
 the waist by a strap of brown leather, 
 through which were passed two pistols, 
 an axe, and a long knife ; a pair of leg- 
 gins of tawny leather, sewed at equal 
 distances with hair, fell down to his 
 knees ; while his legs were protected 
 by Indian moccasins, ornamented with 
 a profusion of beads and bells. A 
 game bag of fawn-skin, which seemed 
 full, fell over his right hip ; and he 
 field in his hand an American 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 suddenly made his appearance in 
 the country, accompanied by a wife of 
 a certain age a species of Megsera, 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 age va 
 ried from nineteen to twenty-four. 
 
 Red Cedar himself appeared to be 
 fifty-five at the most. The name by 
 which he was known had been given to 
 him by the Indians, of whom he had 
 declared himself the implacable enemy, 
 and boasted that he had killed two hun 
 dred. 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, a few miles from Paso, and lived 
 alone in the desert, without having en 
 tered into any relations with the inhab 
 itants of the village, or the trappers 
 and wood-rangers, its neighbors. The 
 mysterious conduct of these strangers 
 had given rise to numerous comments ; 
 but all had remained without reply or 
 solution, and after two years they re 
 mained 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 in 
 voluntary terror in the Mexicans. 
 Some said in a whisper that old Red 
 Cedar and his three sons were nothing 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 less than " scalp-hunters ;" that is to 
 say, in the public esteem, people placed 
 beneath the pirates of the prairies, that 
 uwclean breed of birds of prey which 
 everybody fears and despises. 
 
 The entry of Red Cedar was signifi 
 cant ; the otherwise unscrupulous men 
 who filled the venta 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 
 I disdain played round his thin lips at 
 the sight of the effect his presence pro 
 duced, 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, senor padre ! 
 Here I am : what do you want with 
 me?" 
 
 Far from being vexed at this brutal 
 address, the latter smiled on the colos- 
 us, and held out his hand to him, as he 
 graciously made answer : 
 
 " You are welcome, Red Cedar ; we 
 were expecting you impatiently. Sit 
 down by my side on this butacca, 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 a wretched abor 
 tion of your sort ]" the other answered 
 as he fell into the seat offered him. 
 " Order me some brandy, and that of 
 the strongest. 1 am not a babe, I sup 
 pose." 
 
 Without making the slightest obser 
 vation, the monk rose, went to speak 
 with the host, arid presently returned 
 < with a bottle, from which he poured a 
 bumper for the old hunter. 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, senor padre," he said, 
 as he passed his hand over his mouth 
 to wipe his moustache. " I see that we 
 can come to an understanding." 
 
 " It will only depend on you, Red 
 Cedar. Here are two worthy Cana 
 dian hunters who will do nothing with 
 out your support." 
 
 The Hercules took a side glance at 
 the young men. 
 
 " Eh I" he said, " what do you want 
 with these children ? Did I not pro 
 mise you to reach the placer with my 
 sons only T' 
 
 " 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 
 out this affair successfully. You will 
 have numerous enemies to combat on 
 your road." 
 
 " All the better ! The more there 
 are, the more we shall kill," he an 
 swered with a sinister laugh. 
 
 " Senor padre," Dick interrupted, 
 " as far as 1 am concerned, I care little 
 about it." 
 
 But he was suddenly checked by a 
 meaning glance from his mate. 
 
 " What do you care little about, my 
 pretty lad ?" the giant asked in a mock 
 ing voice. 
 
 " Nothing," the young man answered 
 drily. " 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 
 chattering." 
 
 " Very good. This, then, is what I 
 propose. Red Cedar will collect with 
 in three days from this time thirty re 
 solute men, of whom he will take the 
 command, and we will start immediate 
 ly in search of the placer. Does it 
 suit you in that way ?" 
 
 "Hum!"- Red Cedar said. "In 
 order to go in search of the placer we 
 must know a little 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. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 59 
 
 Have I not got a plan of the country ?" 
 
 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 
 indifference ; " I forgot that you were 
 coming with us. Then you will leave 
 your parishioners during your ab 
 sence ?" 
 
 " Heaven will watch over them." 
 
 " Eh ! it will have its work cut out. 
 However, that does not concern me at 
 all. But why did you oblige me to 
 corne to this meson ?" 
 
 " 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 : rny aid, and 
 that of my mate, do not appear to me 
 to be indispensable." 
 
 " On the contrary," the monk an 
 swered 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 honor 
 able personage, 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 by a crime. 
 Ha, ha, ha !" 
 
 And he turned his back unceremo 
 niously. 
 
 " 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 aj, liberty to act as 
 you like." 
 
 " What ! you are off already 7" 
 
 " Hang it ! what have I to do any 
 longer here 1 ? All is settled between us. 
 In three days thirty of the best frontiers 
 men will be assembled by my care at 
 Grizzly Bear Creek, where we shall ex 
 pect you." 
 
 After shrugging his shoulders once 
 again he went off without any salute, 
 or even turning his head. 
 
 " It must be confessed," Dick ob 
 served, " that the man has a most vil- 
 lanous 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 
 dealings with him 1 ?" 
 
 The monk blushed slightly. 
 
 " Because it must be so," he muttered. 
 
 " All right for you," Dick continued ; 
 " but as nothing obliges my friend and 
 myself to have any more intimate re 
 lations with that man, you must not 
 mind, senor padre, if " 
 
 " Silence, Dick !" Harry shouted, 
 angrily. "You do not know what you 
 are talking about. We will accompany 
 you, senor padre. You can reckon on 
 us to defend you if necessary, for I sup 
 pose that Red Cedar is right." 
 
 " In what way ]" 
 
 " You do not wish to trust your life 
 defencelessly in his hands, and you 
 reckoned on us to protect you. Is it 
 not so V 
 
 " 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 at this generous pro 
 mise. 
 
 " Thanks," he said warmly. 
 
 Harry's conduct appeared so extra 
 ordinary to Dick, who knew the lofty 
 sentiments and innate honor of his com 
 rade, that, without striving to fathom 
 the motives which made him act thus, 
 he contented himself by backing up his 
 words by an affirmative nod of the head. 
 
 " Be assured, cabal leros, that when 
 we have reached the placer, I will give 
 you a large share, and you will have no 
 cause to regret accompanying me." 
 
 '' The money question has but slight 
 interest with us," Harry answered. 
 " My friend and I are free hunters, car 
 ing very little for riches, which would 
 be to us rather a source of embarrass 
 ment than of pleasure and enjoyment. 
 Curiosity alone, and the desire of ex 
 ploring strange countries, are sufficient 
 to make us undertake this journey.' 
 
60 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " Whatever the reason that makes 
 you accept my proposals, I am not the 
 less obliged to you." 
 
 "Now you will permit us to take 
 leave of you, and we shall hold our 
 selves at your orders." 
 
 " Go, gentlemen ; 1 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 meson. 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 
 French blood which despises treachery. 
 No matter," he added, as if on reflec 
 tion ; " I will take my precautions." 
 
 After this aside, he rose and looked 
 around him. The room was" full of ad 
 venturers, who drank or played at 
 monte, and whose energetic faces st"od 
 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 : 
 
 "Senores caballeros, I invite you to 
 listen to me. I have, I fancy, an ad 
 vantageous proposal to make to you." 
 
 The company turned their heads ; 
 those who were gambling for a moment 
 abandoned their cards and dice ; the 
 drinkers alone kept in their hands the 
 glasses they held ; but all approached 
 the monk, round whom they grouped 
 themselves curiously. 
 
 " Caballeros," he continued, " if I am 
 not mistaken, all present are gentlemen 
 whom fortune has more or less ill- 
 treated." 
 
 The adventurers, by an automatic 
 movement of extraordinary regularity, 
 bowed their heads in affirmation. 
 
 " If you wish it," he continued with 
 an imperceptible smile, " I will under 
 take to repair the wrong by it done you." 
 
 The adventurers pricked up their ears. 
 
 " Speak, speak, senor padre !" they 
 shouted with delight. 
 
 "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 
 invincible terror in the inhabitants ol 
 the Mexican frontiers. 
 
 The monk guessed the effect he had 
 produced ; but he continued, as if not 
 observing anything : 
 
 " I take you all into my service for a 
 month, at the rate of four piastres a 
 day." 
 
 At this magnificent offer the eyes of 
 the adventurers sparkled with greed, 
 fear gave way to avarice, and they all 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " We accept, reverend father !" 
 
 " But," the man continued who had 
 already spoken, " we shall be happy, 
 senor padre, if, before starting, you 
 would give us your holy benediction, 
 and absolve us from the few sins we 
 may have committed." 
 
 " Yes," the company yelled, " we 
 shall be happy if you consent to that, 
 reverend father." 
 
 The monk appeared to reflect : the 
 adventurers, anxiously waited. 
 
 " Well, be it so," he answered after 
 a moment. " As the work in which I 
 am about to employ you is so meritori 
 ous, I will give you my blessing, and 
 grant you absolution of your sins." 
 
 For a few minutes there was a shout 
 and exclamations of joy in the room. 
 The monk demanded silence, and when 
 it was restored he said : 
 
 " Now, caballeros, give me each your 
 name, that I may find you when 1 need 
 you." 
 
 He sat down and began enrolling the 
 adventurers, who, with the men Red 
 Cedar supplied, would form the band 
 with which he hoped to reach the placer. 
 We will leave the worthy monk for a 
 few moments, and follow the two Cana 
 dian hunters. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 61 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE TWO HUNTERS. 
 
 HARRY and Dick, whom we saw 
 seated at a table in the meson with Red 
 Cedar and Fray Ambrosio, were how 
 ever, 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 solitude 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 procure the necessary objects for 
 their trade as hunters and trappers ; 
 and they never imagined that the pos 
 session 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 ot 
 strange incidents and striking joys. 
 
 Thus Dick had been to the highest 
 degree surprised when he saw his 
 friend eagerly accept the monk's offer, 
 and agree to go in search of the placer j 
 but what even more surprised him was 
 Harry's insisting that Red Cedar must 
 take the lead of the expedition. 
 Though no one could positively accuse 
 the squatter, owing to the precautions 
 he took, of leading a life of rapine and 
 murder, still the mysterious conduct he 
 affected, and the solitude in which he 
 lived with his family, had cast on him 
 a shadow of reprobation. 
 
 Every one regarded him as a scalp- 
 hunter, and yet no one would have 
 ventured to affirm the odious deeds of 
 which he was accused. The result of 
 the general reprobation that fell on the 
 squatter, and which we know to be ful 
 ly merited, was that he and his family 
 were placed under a ban by the frontier 
 hunters and trappers, and every one 
 fled not only their society, but any con 
 tact with them. 
 
 Dick was thoroughly acquainted with 
 his friend's upright character and nobil 
 ity of heart. Hence his conduct under 
 the present circumstances seemed to 
 him perfectly incomprehensible, and he 
 
 resolved to have an explanation with 
 him. 
 
 They had scarce quitted the meson 
 ere Dick bent down to his companion, 
 and said, while looking at him curi 
 ous : 
 
 " We have been hunting together for 
 five years, Harry, and up to the pres 
 ent 1 have ever let myself be guided by 
 you, leaving you free to act as you 
 pleased for our mutual welfare. Still 
 this evening your conduct has appear 
 ed to me so extraordinary that I am 
 obliged, in the name of our friendship, 
 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 1 Do you 
 not know me well enough to be certain 
 that 1 would not consent to do any dis 
 honorable deed T' 
 
 " 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, 
 stopping and looking his friend in the 
 face. 
 
 "Now," Dick answered, with a cer 
 tain degree of hesitation, " hang it all ! 
 1 will be frank with you, Harry, as an 
 honest hunter should ever be. Now I 
 do not know if I should do so: no, in 
 deed I should not." 
 
 " What you say there causes me 
 great pain, Dick. You oblige me, in 
 order to dissipate your unjust suspi 
 cions, to confide to you a secret which 
 is not my own, and which I would not 
 have revealed for anything in the 
 world." 
 
 " Pardon me, Harry, but in my place 
 lam convinced you would act as 1 am 
 doing. We are very far from our 
 country, which we shall never see again, 
 perhaps. We are responsible for each 
 other, and our actions must be free from 
 all double interpretation." 
 
 " I will do what you ask, Dick, what 
 ever it may cost me. I recognize the 
 ustice of your observations. I under 
 stand how much my conduct this night 
 must have hurt you and appeared am 
 biguous. I do not wish our friendship 
 to receive the least wound, or the slight- 
 
 cloud to arise between us. You shall 
 3e satisfied." 
 
62 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " I thank you, Harry. What you 
 tell me relieves my bosom of a heavy 
 load. I confess that I should have been 
 in despair to think badly of you ; but 
 the words of that intriguing monk, and 
 the manners of that worthy acolyte, 
 Red Cedar, put me in a passion. Had 
 you not warned me so quickly to 
 silence, I believe Heaven pardon me! 
 that I should have ended by telling 
 them a piece of my mind." 
 
 " You displayed considerable pru 
 dence in keeping silence, and be assured 
 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 pro 
 fusely over the landscape. The sharp 
 odor of the flowers perfumed the at 
 mosphere. 
 
 The two hunters still walked on. 
 
 " Where are we going now, Harry ?" 
 Dick asked. " I fancy we should do 
 better by taking a few hours' rest, in 
 stead of fatiguing ourselves without 
 any definite object." 
 
 " I never do anything without a rea 
 son, friend, as you know," Harry an 
 swered ; " so let me guide you, and we 
 shall soon arrive." 
 
 " Do as you think proper, my boy ; I 
 shall say nothing." 
 
 " In the first place you must know 
 that the French hunter, Koutonepi, 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 interview, al 
 though 1 care as iittle for a placer as 
 for a musk-rat's skin." 
 
 " Koutonepi is the first hunter on the 
 frontier ; he has often done us a service 
 in the desert. You acted rightly, 
 Harry, in doing what he asked." 
 
 " As for the second reason that dic 
 
 tated my conduct, Dick, you shall soon 
 know it." 
 
 Half talking, half dreaming, the 
 young men reached Buffalo Valley, and 
 soon entered the forest which served as 
 a lair for the squatter and his family. 
 
 "Where the deuce are we going?" 
 Dick could not refrain from saying. 
 
 " Silence !" said the other : " we are 
 approaching." 
 
 Tne 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 cer 
 tain spot where the trees, growing less 
 closely together, formed a species of 
 clearing, and allowed an uncertain and 
 tremorous 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 ex 
 pects me to be alone, and your unex 
 pected 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, " have you perchance led me to 
 a love meeting, Harry ?" 
 
 " You shall judge," Harry replied la 
 conically. " Hide yourself." 
 
 Dick, greatly troubled, did not need 
 the invitation to be repeated : he con 
 cealed himself behind the tree his friend 
 had indicated, and which would have 
 sheltered a dozen men behind its enor 
 mous stem. Sj 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 
 mechanically looked up to seek the bird 
 in the tall branches of the tree by which 
 he stood. 
 
 Almost immediately, a slight noise 
 was audible in the shrubs, and a grace 
 ful and white form appeared in th 
 glade. It was Ellen, who rapidly 
 walked toward the young man. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 "Oil, it is you, Harry!" she said 
 with joy. " Heaven be blessed ! I was 
 afraid you would not come, as it is late." 
 
 " It is true, Ellen : pardon me. I 
 made all possible speed, however; and 
 it is not my fault that I did not arrive 
 sooner." 
 
 " How good you are, Harry, to take 
 so much trouble for my sake ! How 
 can 1 ever recognise the continual ser 
 vices you do me ?" 
 
 " Oh ! do not speak about them. It 
 is a happiness for me to do anything 
 agreeable to you." 
 
 " Alas !" the maiden murmured, 
 " Heaven is my witness that I feel a 
 deep friendship for you, Harry." 
 
 The youna; man sighed gently. 
 
 " I have done what you asked of me," 
 he said suddenly. 
 
 "Then it is true my father is thinking 
 about leaving this country to go further 
 still ?" 
 
 " Yes, Ellen, and into frightful coun 
 tries, among the ferocious Indians." 
 
 The girl gave a start of terror. 
 
 " Do you know the reason of his go 
 ing 1" she continued. 
 
 " Yes ; he is about to look for a gold 
 placer." 
 
 " Alas ! who will protect me, who 
 will defend me in future, if we go 
 away ?" 
 
 "I, Ellen!" the hunter exclaimed 
 impetuously. " Have I not sworn to 
 follow you everywhere ?" 
 
 " It is true," she said sadly ; " but 
 why should you risk your life on the 
 distant journey we are about to under 
 take 1 No, Harry, remain here ; I can 
 not consent to your departure. From 
 what I have heard say, the band my 
 father commands will be numerous it 
 will have scarce anything 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 permit it." 
 
 " Undeceive yourself, Ellen. I shall 
 not be forced to conceal myself; I shall 
 not be alone, for I am a member of 
 your father's band." 
 
 " Is it possible, Harry ?" she ex- 
 claimed, with an expression of joy that 
 made the young man quiver. 
 
 " I enrolled myself this very even 
 ing." 
 
 " Oh !" she said, " then in that case 
 we can often meet ?" 
 
 " Whenever you please, Ellen, as I 
 shall be there." 
 
 " Oh ! now I am anxious to be away 
 from here, and wish we had already 
 started." 
 
 " It will not be long first, set your 
 mind at rest. I am convinced that we 
 shall start within the week." 
 
 " Thanks for the good news you 
 bring me, Harry." 
 
 " Are your father and mother still 
 unkind to you, Ellen ?" 
 
 " It is nearly always the same thing; 
 and yet their conduct toward me is 
 strange. It often seems to me incom 
 prehensible, as it is so marked with 
 peculiarities. There are moments iu 
 which they seem to love me dearly. 
 My father especially caresses and em 
 braces me, and then all at once, I know 
 not why, repulses me rudely, and looks 
 at me in a way that causes me to shud 
 der." 
 
 " That is indeed strange, Ellen." 
 
 " Is it not ? There is one thing 
 above all I cannot explain." 
 
 " Tell it me, Ellen ; perhaps I can 
 do so." 
 
 " You know that all my family are 
 Protestants ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Weil, I am a Catholic." 
 
 " That is certainly curious." 
 
 ** I wear around 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 understand 
 the meaning of this, Harry ?" 
 
 "No, I do not, Ellen; but, believe 
 me, leave everything to time ; perhaps 
 it will enable us to find the 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 sep- 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 aration ; but my father has not yet re 
 turned, and may arrive at any moment. 
 If he noticed that I was not asleep, who 
 knows what might happen?" 
 
 While saying the last words the girl 
 held out her delicate hand to the hun 
 ter, who raised it to his lips passionate 
 ly. Ellen withdrew it suddenly, and 
 bounding like a startled fawn, darted 
 into the forest, where she soon disap 
 peared, giving the young man a part 
 ing 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 
 seductive vision had disappeared. At 
 length he uttered a sigh, threw his 
 rifle over his shoulder, and turned as if 
 to depart. 
 
 Dick was before him. 
 
 Harry gave a start of surprise, for 
 he had forgotten his friend's presence; 
 but the latter smiled good-humoredly. 
 
 "I now comprehend your conduct, 
 Harry," he said to him; "you were 
 right to act as you did. Pardon my 
 unjust suspicions, and count on me 
 everywhere and always." 
 
 Harry silently pressed the hand his 
 friend offered him, and they walked 
 back rapidly in the direction of the vil 
 lage. 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 hor 
 rible secret, which I am ignorant of, 
 but have sworn to discover."] 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 FRAY AMBROSIO. 
 
 THE monk remained for a long time 
 in the room of the meson, taking down 
 the names of the adventurers he wished 
 to enrol in his band. It was late when 
 he left it to return to the Hacienda de 
 la Noria ; but he was satisfied with his 
 
 night's work, and internally rejoiced at 
 the rich collection of bandits of the 
 purest water he had recruited. 
 
 The monks form a privileged caste 
 in Mexico : they can go at all hours of 
 the night wherever they please without 
 fearing the numerous '* gentlemen of 
 the road," scattered about the highways. 
 Their gown inspires a respect which 
 guarantees them from any insult, and 
 preserves them better than anything 
 from unpleasant recontres. Besides, 
 Fray Ambrosio, as the reader has 
 doubtless already perceived, was not 
 the man to neglect indispensable pre 
 cautions in a country where, out of ten 
 persons you meet on your road, you 
 may boldly assert that nine are rogues, 
 the tenth alone offering any doubts. 
 The worthy chaplain carried under his 
 gown a pair of double-barrelled pistols, 
 and in his right sleeve he concealed a 
 long navaja, sharp as a razor, and point 
 ed as a needle. 
 
 Not troubling himself about the soli 
 tude that reigned around him, the monk 
 mounted his mule and proceeded quietly 
 to the hacienda. 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 unfortunately too 
 important part in the course of our 
 narrative. 
 
 One day a gambusino, or gold seeker, 
 who had disappeared for two years, no 
 one knowing what had become of him, 
 and who was supposed to be dead long 
 ago, assassinated in the desert by the 
 Indians, suddenly reappeared at the Paso 
 del Norte. This man, Joaquin by 
 name, was brother to Andres Garote, 
 an adventurer of the worst stamp, who 
 had at least a dozen cuchilladas (knife 
 stabs) on his conscience, whom every 
 body feared, but who, through the ter 
 ror he inspired, enjoyed at the Paso, in 
 spite of his well-avouched crimes, a 
 reputation and species of impunity 
 which he abused whenever the opportu 
 nity offered. 
 
 The two brothers began frequenting 
 together the niesous and ventas of the 
 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 Tillage, drinking from morn till night, 
 and paying either in gold dust enclosed 
 in stout quills, or in lumps of native 
 gold. The rumor soon spread at Paso 
 that Joaquin had discovered a rich 
 placer, and that his expenses were paid 
 with the specimens he had brought back. 
 The gambusino 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 mysteriously, and if it 
 were observed that, at the rate he was 
 living at, he would soon be ruined, he 
 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 which a wretched hole 
 like Paso can furnish. 
 
 Fray Ambrosio had heard speak, like 
 every one else, of the gambusino's as 
 serted discovery ; and his plan was at 
 once formed to become master of this 
 man's secret, and rob him of his dis 
 covery, were that possible. 
 
 The same evening Joaquin and his 
 brother Andres were drinking, according 
 to their wont, in a meson, surrounded 
 by a crowd of scamps like themselves. 
 Fray Ambrosio, seated at a table with 
 his hands hidden in the sleeves of his 
 gown, and hanging head, appeared 
 plunged in serious reflections, although 
 he followed with a cunning eye the 
 various movements of the drinkers, and 
 not one of their gestures escaped him. 
 
 Suddenly a man entered, with his 
 hand on his hip, and throwing in the face 
 of the first person he passed the ciga 
 rette he was smoking. He planted 
 himself in front of Joaquin, to whom 
 he said nothing, but began looking at 
 him impudently, shrugging his shoul 
 ders, and laughing ironically at all the 
 gambusino 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 devil, 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, Tomaso ?" 
 
 "Why not?" the latter said impu 
 dently, as he set 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 fight with 
 the whole blade." 
 
 " Be it so." 
 
 The combats which take place be 
 tween the adventurers are truly like 
 those of wild beasts. These coarse 
 men, with their cruel instincts, like 
 fighting beyond all else, for the smell 
 of blood intoxicates them. The an 
 nouncement of this duel caused a thrill 
 of pleasure to run through the ranks of 
 the leperos and bandits who pressed 
 round the two men. The fun was per 
 fect : one of the adversaries would 
 doubtless fall perhaps both and 
 blood flow in streams. Cries and yells 
 of delight were raised by the specta 
 tors. 
 
 The duel with knives is the only one 
 that exists in Mexico, and is solely left 
 to the leperos and people of the lowest 
 classes. This duel has its rules, which 
 cannot be broken under any pretext. 
 The knives usually employed, have 
 blades from fourteen to sixteen inches 
 in length, and the duelists fight accord 
 ing to the gravity of the insult, with 
 one, two, three, six inches, or the entire 
 blade. The inches are carefully mea 
 sured 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 extraordinary politeness and cool 
 ness the landlord had a large ring form 
 ed in the middle of the room, where 
 the two adversaries stationed them 
 selves, about six paces from each other 
 at the most. 
 
 A deep silence hung over the room, a 
 moment previously so full of life and 
 disturbance ; every one anxiously 
 awaited the denouement of the terrible 
 drama that was preparing. Fray Am 
 brosio alone had not quitted his seat or 
 made a sign. 
 
 The two men rolled their zarapes 
 round their left arm, 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, fixed on each other flashing 
 
66 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 glances. A few seconds elapsed, during 
 which the adversaries remained perfect 
 ly motionless : all hearts were con 
 tracted, all bosoms heaving. 
 
 Worthy of Callot's pencil was the 
 scene offered by these men, with their 
 weather-stained faces and harsh features, 
 and their clothes in rag's, forming a 
 circle round two combatants ready to 
 kill each other in this mean room, 
 slightly illumined by a smoky lamp, 
 which flushed upon the blue blades of 
 the knives, and in the shadow, almost 
 disappearing in his black gown, the 
 monk, with his implacable glance and 
 mocking smile, who, like a tiger thirst 
 ing for blood, awaited the hour to 
 pounce .on his prey. 
 
 Suddenly, by a spontaneous move 
 ment rapid as lightning, the adversaries 
 rushed on each other, uttering a yell o'f 
 fury. The blades flashed, there was a 
 clashing of steel, and both fell back 
 again. Joaquin and Toinaso had both 
 dealt the same stroke, called, in the 
 slang of the country, the " blow of the 
 brave man." Each had his face slash 
 ed from top to bottom with a gaping 
 wound. 
 
 The spectators frenziedly applauded 
 this magnificent opening scene : the 
 jaguars had scented blood, and were 
 mad. 
 
 " What a glorious fight !" they ex 
 claimed with admiration. 
 
 In the meanwhile the two combat 
 ants, rendered hideous by the blood 
 that streamed from their wounds and 
 stained their faces, 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. The 
 two men seized each other round the 
 waist, and entwined like serpents, they 
 twisted about, trying to stab each other, 
 and exciting themselves to the struggle 
 by cries of rage and triumph. The en 
 thusiasm of the spectators was at its 
 height : they laughed, clapped hands, 
 ami uttered inarticulate howls as they 
 urged the fighters not to loose their 
 hold. 
 
 At length the enemies rolled on the 
 ground still enclasped. For some sec 
 
 onds the combat continued on the 
 ground, and it was impossible to distin 
 guish who was the conqueror. All at 
 once one of them, who no longer had a 
 human form, and whose body was as 
 red as an Indian's, bounded to his feet 
 brandishing his knife. It was Joaquin. 
 
 His brother rushed toward him to 
 congratulate him on his victory, but all 
 at once the gambusino tottered and 
 fainted. Tomaso did not rise again : 
 he remained motionless, stretched out 
 on the uneven floor of the meson. He 
 was stark dead. 
 
 This scene had been so rapid, its con 
 clusion so unforeseen, that, in spite of 
 themselves, the spectators had remain 
 ed dumb, and as if struck with stupor. 
 Suddenly the priest, whom all had for 
 gotten, rose and walked into the centre 
 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 al 
 lowed this deed worthy of savages to 
 be accomplished. The priest must of 
 fer his ministry, and get back from 
 Satan, 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 
 whom was dead, the other at the lust 
 gasp. No one could say what occurred 
 in that room ; but when the priest left 
 it, 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 justled against a 
 man, who drew back sharply to make 
 room for him. 
 
 It was Andres Garote. What was 
 he doing with his eye at the keyhole 
 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 which Fray 
 Ambrosio became master of the gambu- 
 sino's secret, and how he alone knew at 
 present the spot where the placer was. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 67 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 TWO VARIETIES OF VILLAINS. 
 
 Now that the reader is well informed 
 touching Fruy Ambrosio, we will follow 
 him on his road home from the meson. 
 The night was calm, silent 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 distance, 
 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 ad 
 vancing cautiously along a narrow path 
 that wound through an immense sugar 
 cane field. Already the shadow of the 
 tall hacienda walls stood out blackly in 
 the horizon. He expected to reach it 
 within 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 look 
 ed about for some obstacle that might 
 impede his progress. About ten paces 
 from him a man was standing right 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 the setting hammer, 
 thought it prudent to make himself 
 known, and not await the consequences 
 of an address nearly always stormy un 
 der similar circumstances. 
 
 " Halloh !" he shouted in a loud 
 voice, " return your pistol to your belt, 
 Fray Ambrosio ; I only want to talk 
 with you." 
 
 "Diavolo /" the monk said, " the hour 
 and moment are singularly chosen for 
 a friendly conversation, my good fel 
 low." 
 
 "Time belongs to nobody," the 
 
 stranger answered sententiously. " I 
 am obliged to choose that which I have 
 at my disposal." 
 
 " That is true," the monk said as he 
 quietly uncocked his pistol, though not 
 returning it to his belt. " Who the 
 deuce 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 the deuce is it, Red Cedar, that 
 I meet you here ? What can you have 
 so pressing to communicate to me ?" 
 
 " You shall know if you will stop for 
 a few moments and dismount." 
 
 " The deuce take you with your 
 whims ! Cannot you tell me that as 
 well to-morrow 1 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 ad 
 mit of delay." 
 
 " You wish to make a proposal to 
 me, then ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What about, if you please?" 
 
 " About the aftUir we discussed this 
 evening at the Paso." 
 
 " Why, I fancied we had settled all 
 that, and you accepted my offer." 
 
 " Not yet, not yet, my master. That 
 will depend on the conversation we are 
 about to have, so you had better dis 
 mount and . sit down quietly by my 
 side ; for if you don't do it, it will 
 come to nothing." 
 
 " The deuce take people that change 
 their minds every minute, and on whom 
 one cannot reckon more than on an old 
 surplice !" the monk growled with an 
 air of annoyance, while, for all that, 
 getting off his mule, 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 
 
68 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 soon as he was seated. " I really do not 
 know, Red Cedar, why I yield so easily 
 to all your whims." 
 
 " Because you suspect that your in 
 terest depends on it : were it not for 
 that, you would not do so." 
 
 " Why talk thus in the open country, 
 instead of going to your house, where 
 we should 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. Here 
 we need not fear listeners at out doors." 
 
 "That is true. Well, go on ; I am 
 listening." 
 
 " Hum ! you insist upon my com 
 manding the expedition you project ?" 
 
 " 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 me." 
 
 " How so T 
 
 " Good, good ! Let me speak. You 
 need me, so it is to my interest to make 
 you pay as dearly as I can for me." 
 
 "Eh 1 ?" the monk muttered, as he 
 made a grimace. " I am not rich, gos 
 sip, as you are aware." 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I know that, so soon as 
 you have a few piastres or ounces, the 
 rnonte table strips you of them imme 
 diately." 
 
 "Hang it! I have always been un 
 lucky at play." 
 
 " For that reason I do not intend ask 
 ing you for money." 
 
 "Very good. If you have no designs 
 on my purse we can easily come to an 
 understanding. You may speak boldly." 
 
 " I hope that we shall easily under 
 stand one another, the mere so as the 
 service I expect from you is almost a 
 mere nothing." 
 
 " Come to the point, Red Cedar : 
 with your deuced way of twining your 
 phrases together in the Indian way, you 
 never make an end of it." 
 
 " 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, thanks to the 
 devil, I am on my legs again, after re 
 maining three weeks on my back like a 
 cast sheep. I want my revenge." 
 
 " I 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." 
 
 " Oh ! very easily." 
 
 " You believe so ?" 
 
 " You shall see." 
 
 " Go on, then ; I arn listening." 
 
 " Don Miguel has a daughter ?" 
 
 " Dona Clara." 
 
 " I mean to carry her off." 
 
 " Deuce take the mad ideas that pass 
 through your brain-pan, gossip ! How 
 would you have me help you in carry 
 ing off the daughter of Don Miguel, to 
 whom I owe so many obligations ? No, 
 I cannot do that, indeed." 
 
 " You must, though." 
 
 " I will not, I tell you." 
 
 " Measure youj; words well, FrayAm- 
 brosio, for this conversation is serious. 
 Before refusing so peremptorily to give 
 me the help I ask, reflect well." 
 
 " I have reflected well, Red Cedar, 
 and never will I consent to help you 
 in carrying off the daughter of my bene 
 factor. Say what you like, nothing 
 will ever change my resolution on that 
 head, for it is inflexible." 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 " Oh ! whatever may happen, I swear 
 that nothing will make rne alter." 
 
 ' Swear not, Fray Ambrosio, for you 
 will be a perjurer." 
 
 " Ta, ta, ta ! you are mad, my good 
 fellow. 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." 
 
 " You have become scrupulous all of 
 a sudden, my master." 
 
 " There is a beginning to everything, 
 compadre; so let us say no more, but 
 good-bye." 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 69 
 
 And the monk rose. 
 
 " You are really going ?" 
 
 " Carai ! do you fancy I mean to 
 sleep here ?" 
 
 " Very good. You understand that 
 you need not count on me for your ex 
 pedition 1 ?" 
 
 " 1 am sorry for it; but I will try to 
 find some one to take your place." 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 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 sepa 
 ration a sudden idea seemed to occur to 
 the squatter. 
 
 " By the way," he said carelessly, 
 " be kind enough to give me some in 
 formation I require." 
 
 " What is it now?" the monk asked. 
 
 " Oh ! a mere trifle," the squatter re 
 marked indifferently. " It concerns a 
 certain Don Pedro de Tudela, whom I 
 think you formerly knew." 
 
 "Eh?' the monk exclaimed, as he 
 turned, with his leg still in the air. 
 
 " Come, come, Fray Ambrosio," Red 
 Cedar continued in a jeering voice, "let 
 us have a little more talk together. I 
 will tell you, if you like, a very re 
 markable story about this Don Pedro, 
 with whom you were acquainted." 
 
 The monk was livid ; a nervous tre 
 mor agitated all his limbs ; he let loose 
 his mule's bridle, and followed the 
 squatter mechanically, who seated him 
 self tranquilly on the ground, making 
 him a si<in to follow his example. The 
 monk fell, suppressing a sigh, and wip 
 ing 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 gentle 
 man a little wild, perhaps ; but what 
 would you have ? He was young. I 
 remember meeting him at Albany a 
 long time ago some sixteen or seven 
 teen years 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 choking ; 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 noth 
 ing of all this. 
 
 " I have it !" he continued. " The 
 man's name was Walter Brunnel, a 
 very worthy gentleman." 
 
 " Demon !" the monk howled in a 
 gasping voice, " I know not who made 
 you master of that horrible secret, but 
 you shall die." 
 
 And he rushed upon him, dagger in 
 hand. 
 
 Red Cedar had known Fray Ambro 
 sio 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 mas 
 ter. Do not play that game with me, 
 for you will be sick of it, I warn you." 
 
 The monk fell back on his seat, -with 
 out the strength to make a sign or ut 
 ter a syllable. The squatter regarded 
 him for a moment with mingled pity 
 and contempt and shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " For sixteen years i have held that 
 secret," 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 the haciendero's daughter." 
 
 " I will do it." 
 
 " Mind, I expect honest assistance ; 
 so do not attempt any treachery." 
 
 " I will help you, I tell you." 
 
 " Good ! I count on your word. Be 
 sides you may be easy, master ; 1 will 
 watch you." 
 
 " Enough of threats. What is to be 
 done ?" 
 
 " When do we start for Apacheria?" 
 
 " You are coming, 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 ?" 
 
70 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " That is not my business." 
 
 Still " 
 
 " I insist." 
 
 " Be it so," the monk said with an 
 effort. "I will do it; but remember, 
 demon, if I ever hold you in my hands, 
 as I am this day in yours, I shall be 
 pitiless and make you pay for all I 
 buffer 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 
 1 am your master, and I reckon on your 
 obedience." 
 
 " I will obey." 
 
 " That is settled. Now, one thing 
 more ; how many men have you en 
 listed this evening ?" 
 
 " About twenty." 
 
 " 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 the conversation ; " 1 pledge myself 
 to lead you straight to your placer. I 
 have not lived ten years with the In 
 dians not to be up to all their tricks." 
 
 " Of course," the monk answered as 
 he rose, " You know, lied Cedar, what 
 was agreed upon ; the placer will be 
 shared between 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 V he said signifi 
 cantly. 
 
 " Yes, all." 
 
 " We can part, and go each home. 
 No matter, my master ! I told you 
 that 1 should succeed in making you 
 alter your mind. Look you, Fray 
 Ambrosio," he added in impudent tone, 
 which made the monk turn pale with 
 rage ; " people need only to understand 
 one another to do anything." 
 
 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. Sud 
 denly 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 
 round a turning, uttering a formidable 
 burst of laughter, which the mocking 
 echo bore to his ear, and revealed to 
 him all the immensity of his impotence. 
 
 " Oh !" he muttered as he got in the 
 saddle, <c "how did this fiend discover the 
 secret which 1 believed no one knew ?" 
 
 And he went off gloomy and thought 
 ful. Half an hour later he reached the 
 Hacienda de la Noria, when the gate 
 was opened for him by a trusty peon, 
 for everybody was asleep. It was past 
 midnight. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 EL CANON DEL BUITRE. 
 
 WE will now return to the haoiendero, 
 who, accompanied by his two friends, is 
 galloping at full speed in the direction 
 of Valentine's jacal. The road the 
 three men followed led them further 
 and further from the Paso del Norte. 
 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 
 [ike a legion of phantoms. They crossed 
 several tributary streams of the Del 
 Norte, in which their horses were im 
 mersed up to the chest. 
 
 At length they entered a ravine 
 deeply imbedded between two wooded 
 tiills, the soil of which, composed of 
 large flat stones and rounded pebbles, 
 proved that this spot was one of those 
 desaguaderos which serve to carry off 
 the waters in the rainy season. They 
 lad reached the Canon del Buitre, so 
 named on account of the numerous vul 
 tures constantly perched on the tops of 
 the surrounding hills. 
 
 The defile was deserted, and Valen 
 ine had his cabin not far from this spot. 
 So soon as the three men had dis 
 mounted, Curumilla took the horses and 
 led them to the jacal. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 71 
 
 " Follow me," Valentine said to Don 
 Miguel. 
 
 The latter obeyed, and the two men 
 began then climbing the escarped flank 
 of the right-hand hill. The climb wa 
 rude, for no road was traced ; but the 
 two hunters, long accustomed to force 
 a passage through the most impracti 
 cable places, seemed 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," Val 
 entine said with the complacent simpli 
 city of a land-owner who boasts of his 
 estate. " If it were day, Don Miguel, 
 you would enjoy from this spot a mag 
 nificent view. A few hundred yards 
 from the place where we are, down 
 there on that hill to the right, are the 
 ruins of an ancient Aztec camp in a very 
 fine state of preservation. Just ima 
 gine that this hill, carved by human 
 hands, though you cannot see it in the 
 darkness, is of the shape of a pyramidal 
 cone : its base is triangular, the sides 
 are covered with masonry, and it is di 
 vided into several terraces. The plat 
 form is about ninety yards long by 
 seventy-five in width, and is surrounded 
 on three sides by a platform, and flanked 
 by a bastion on the north. You see 
 that it is a perfect fortress,, constructed 
 according to all the rules of military 
 art. On the platform ate the remains 
 of a species of small teocali, about 
 twenty feet high, composed of large 
 stones covered with hieroglyphics sculp 
 tured in relief,- representing weapons, 
 monsters, rabbits, crocodiles, and all 
 sorts of things ; for instance, men seated 
 in the oriental fashion, and wearing 
 spectacles. Is not that really curious 1 ? 
 This little monument, which has no 
 staircase, doubtless served as the last 
 refuge to the besieged when they were 
 too closely beleaguered by the enemy." 
 
 "It is astonishing," Don Miguel an 
 swered, " that 1 never heard of these 
 ruins." 
 
 " Who knows them? Nobody. How 
 ever, they bear a considerable likeness 
 to those found at Jochicalco." 
 
 " 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. It is prob 
 able that the Spaniards were unacquaint 
 ed with it, although the Indians, to my 
 knowledge, have visited it from time 
 immemorial. The Apaches imagine it 
 serves as a palace to the genius of the 
 mountain. At any rate, I was so struck 
 by its beauty that 1 abandoned my jacal, 
 and converted it into my residence. Its 
 extent is immense. I am certain, though 
 1 never tried to convince myself, that it 
 goes for more that ten leagues under 
 ground. I will not allude to the stalac 
 tites that hang from the roof, and form 
 the quaintest and most curious designs; 
 but the thing that struck me is this: 
 this grotto is divided into an infinite 
 number of chambers, some of them con 
 taining pools in which swim immense 
 numbers of blind fish." 
 
 " Blind fish ! You are jesting, my 
 friend," Don Miguel exclaimed, and 
 stopped. 
 
 " 1 am wrong : blind is not the word 
 I should have employed, for these fish 
 have no eyes." 
 
 " What! no eyes?" 
 
 " None at all ; but that does not pre 
 vent them being very dainty food." 
 
 " That is strange." 
 
 " Is it not ? 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 man 
 sion," Valentine said. 
 
 " Do so, my friend." 
 
 The two men entered the grotto : the 
 hunter struck a match, and lit a torch 
 of candle- wood. The fairy picture 
 which suddenly rose before Don Miguel 
 drew from him a cry of admiration. 
 There was an indescribable contusion : 
 iiere a gothic chapel, with its graceful 
 soaring- pillars; further on, obelisks, 
 cones, trunks of trees covered with 
 moss and acanthus leaves, hollow stalac 
 tites of a cylindrical form, drawn to 
 gether and ranged side by side like the 
 
72 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 pipes of an organ, and yielding to the 
 slightest touch varied metallic sounds 
 which completed the illusion. Then, in 
 the i mmeasurable depths of these cavern 
 ous halls, at times formidable 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 
 Miguel exclaimed, struck with fear and 
 respect at the sight. 
 
 " Does not man," Valentine answer 
 ed, " feel very small and miserable be 
 fore 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 gran 
 deur 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 everything that 
 presents itself to his sight." 
 
 " Yes," Don Miguel said, who had 
 suddenly 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 
 hall a fire 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 re 
 cognized his friend's tread. In fact, 
 within a moment the Indian chief ap 
 peared. 
 
 " Well ?" Valentine asked him. 
 
 " Nothing yet," Curumila laconically 
 answered. 
 
 " They are late, I fancy," Don Mi 
 guel observed. 
 
 " No," the chief continued, " it is 
 hardly half-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 his thoughts. The silence was only 
 troubled by the mysterious sounds of 
 the grotto, which re-echoed nearly at 
 equal intervals with an horrific din. A 
 long period elapsed. All at once, ere 
 any sensible noise had warned Don 
 Miguel, Valentine raised his head with 
 a hurried movement. 
 
 "Here they are," he said. 
 
 " You are mistaken, my friend," Don 
 Miguel observed ; " 1 heard nothing." 1 
 
 The hunter smiled. 
 
 " If you had spent," he said, " like 
 we have, ten years in the desert, in 
 terrogating the mysterious voices of 
 the night, your ear would be habituat 
 ed 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 under 
 stand, and you would not say I was 
 mistaken. Ask the chief: you will 
 hear his answer." 
 
 "Two men are climbing the hill at 
 this moment," Curumilla answered sen- 
 tentiously. "They are an Indian and 
 a white man." 
 
 " How can you recognize the dis 
 tinction T* 
 
 "Very easily," Valentine responded 
 with a smile. " The Indian wears 
 moccasins, which touch the ground 
 without producing any other sound 
 than a species jof friction : the step is 
 sure and 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 continuous 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 accustomed to a horse, and does not 
 know the use of his feet. Stay! they 
 are now entering the grotto : you will 
 soon hear the signal." 
 
 At this moment the bark of the 
 coyote was raised thrice at equal inter 
 vals. Valentine answered by a similar 
 cry. 
 
 " Well, was I mistaken ?" he said. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 73 
 
 "I 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 ex 
 cellent conductor of sound," the hunter 
 answered simply : " that is all the 
 mystery." 
 , " The devil !" Don Miguel could not 
 refrain from saying; "you neglect no 
 thing, 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 
 exchanged between the two friends the 
 noise of footsteps was heard 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 man 
 ners were graceful and noble. He 
 bowed cordially to the. haciendero and 
 Valentine, squeezed Curumilla's hand, 
 and fell down in a sitting posture by the 
 fire. 
 
 " OTif!" he said, "I am done, gentle 
 men. I have just ridden an awful dis 
 tance. My poor horse is foundered, 
 and to recover myself 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. 
 1 must confess that these Indians climb 
 like real cats : we genie de razon* are 
 worth nothing for that trade." 
 
 " At length you have arrived, my 
 friend," Don Miguel answered. " Hea 
 ven-be praised! I was anxious to see 
 you." 
 
 " For my part 1 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 myself be taken in, 
 
 * Literally, "men of reason "a graceful expres 
 sion the whites employ to distinguish themselves 
 from the Indiana, \vhom they affect to consider brute 
 and to whom they do not even grant a soul. 
 
 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 today, 
 we have, perchance, a way of foiling the 
 tricks of the infamous spy who has de 
 nounced us." 
 
 " May Heaven grant it ! But nothing 
 will remove my impression that Wood 
 has something to do with what has hap 
 pened to us. I always doubted that 
 American, who is cold as an iceberg, 
 sour as a glass of lemonade, and me 
 thodical as a Quaker. What good is to 
 be expected from these men, who covet 
 the possession of our territory, and 
 who, unable to take it from us at one 
 lump, tear it away in parcels?" 
 
 " Who knows, my friend ? Perhaps 
 you are right. Unfortunately, what is 
 done cannot be helped, and our retro 
 spective recriminations will do us no 
 good." 
 
 " That is true ; but, as you know, 
 man is the same everywhere. When 
 he has committed a folly he is happy 
 to find a scapegoat on which he can lay 
 the iniquitie s with which he reproaches 
 himself. That is slightly my case at 
 this moment." 
 
 " Do not take more blame on your 
 self, my friend, than you deserve ; I 
 guarantee your integrity and the loyalty 
 of your sentiments. Whatever may 
 happen, be persuaded that 1 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 assu 
 rance you give me in order to regain 
 some slight courage, and not let myself 
 be completely crushed by the unfore 
 seen blow which threatens to overthrow 
 our hopes at the very moment when we 
 expected to find them realised." 
 
 " Come, come, gentlemen," Valentine 
 said, " the time is slipping away, and 
 we have none to waste. Let us seek to 
 find the means by which to repair the 
 heck we have suffered. If you permit 
 me I will submit to your approval a 
 plan which, I believe, combines all the 
 
74 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 desirable chances of success, and wil 
 turn in our favor the very treachery t 
 which we have fallen victims." 
 
 " Spe ak, speak, my friend !" the twi 
 men exclaimed, as they prepared to 
 listen. 
 
 Valentine took the word. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 FATHER SERAPHIN. 
 
 " GENTLEMEN," said Valentine, " this 
 is what I propose. The treachery of 
 Red Cedar, in surrendering to the 
 Government the secret of your con 
 spiracy, places you in a critical posi 
 tion, from which you cannot escape save 
 by violent measures. You are between 
 life and death. You have no alterna 
 tive 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 posi 
 tion offered you. Do not wait till you 
 lire attacked, but commence the contest. 
 Kemember the vulgar adage, which is 
 perfectly true in politics, and specially 
 in revolution that ' the first blow is 
 half the battle.' Your enemies will be 
 terrified by your boldness dashed by 
 this uprising which they are far from 
 expecting, 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 re 
 velations 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 answered peremptorily. " I 
 repeat, you must be beforehand with 
 your adversaries." 
 
 At this moment the sound of foot 
 steps was heard under the vault of the 
 cave. The most extreme silence at 
 once reigned in the chamber where the 
 five conspirators were assembled. Me 
 
 chanically each sought his weapons. 
 The steps rapidly approached, and a 
 man appeared in the entrance of the 
 hall. On seeing him all present utter 
 ed a cry of joy and rose respectfully, 
 repeating, " Father Seraphin ! ; ' 
 
 The man advanced smiling, bowed 
 gracefully, and answered in a gentle 
 and melodious voice, which went 
 straight to the soul : 
 
 " Take your places again, gentlemen, 
 I beg of you. I should be truly vexed 
 if 1 caused you any disturbance. Per 
 mit rne only to sit down for a few mo 
 ments by your side." 
 
 They hastened to make room for 
 him. Let us say in a few words who 
 this person was, whose unexpected ar 
 rival caused so much pleasure to the 
 people assembled in the grotto. 
 
 Father Seraphin was a man of twen 
 ty-four at the most, although the fa 
 tigues he supported, the harsh labors 
 he had imposed on himself, and which, 
 he fulfilled with more than apostolic 
 abnegation, had left numerous traces on 
 his face, with its delicate features, its 
 gentle and firm expression, imprinted 
 with a sublime melancholy, rendered 
 ven more touching by the beam of in 
 effable goodness which escaped from 
 bis large, blue and thoughtful eyes. 
 His whole person, however, exhaled a 
 perfume of youth and health which dis 
 guised his age, as to which a superficial 
 observer might have been easily de- 
 eived. 
 
 Father Seraphin was a Frenchman, 
 and belonged to the order of the Lazar- 
 sts. For five years he had been tra- 
 'ersing as an indefatigable missionary, 
 vith no other weapon than his staff, 
 he unexplored solitudes of Texas and 
 Vew Mexico, preaching the gospel to 
 he Indians, while caring nothing for 
 he terrible privations and nameless 
 ufferings he incessantly endured, and 
 he death constantly suspended over 
 is head. 
 
 Father Seraphin was one of those nu- 
 nerous soldiers, ignored martyrs of 
 he army of faith, who, making a shield 
 f the Gospel, spread at the peril of 
 heir lives the word of God in those 
 arbarous countries, and die heroically, 
 tiling bravely on their battle-field, 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 75 
 
 worn out by the painful exigencies of 
 their sublime mission, aged at thirty, 
 but having gained over a few souls to 
 the truth, and shed light among the ig 
 norant masses. 
 
 The abnegation and devotion of 
 these modest men, yet so great in heart, 
 are too much despised in France, where 
 however, the greater number of these 
 martyrs are recruited. Their sacrifices 
 pass unnoticed ; for, owing to the false 
 knowledge possessed of beyond-sea 
 countries, people are far from suspect 
 ing the continual struggles they have 
 to sustain against a deadly climate. 
 And who would credit it? The most 
 obstinate adversaries they meet with 
 in the accomplishment of their mission 
 are not among the Indian*, who always 
 nearly welcome them with respect, if 
 n t jy> but among the men whom 
 their labors benefit, and who ought to 
 aid and protect them with all their 
 might. There is no vexation or humi 
 liation which they do not endure from 
 the agents of Mexico and the American 
 Union, to try and disgust and compel 
 them to abandon the arena in which 
 they combat so nobly. 
 
 Father Seraphin had gained the 
 friendship and respect of all those with 
 whom accident had brought him into 
 contact. Charmed with meeting a fel 
 low 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 Val 
 entine, to whom he vowed a deep and 
 sincere affection. For the same mo 
 tives, the hunter, who admired the 
 greatness of character of this priest so 
 full of true religion, felt himself drawn 
 to him by an irresistible liking. They 
 had frequently taken long journeys to 
 gether, the hunter guiding his friend to 
 the Indian tribes across the desolate 
 regions of Apacheria. , 
 
 So soon as Father Seraphin had taken 
 his place near the fire, Eagle-wing and 
 Curumilla hastened to offer him all 
 those slight services whicn they fancied 
 might be agreeable to him, and offered 
 him a few lumps of roast venison with 
 maize tortillas. The missionary gladly 
 gratified the two chiefs, and accepted 
 their offerings. 
 
 " It is a long time since we saw you, 
 father," the ha-jiendero said. " You ne 
 glect us. My daughter asked me about 
 you only two days ago, for she is anx 
 ious to see you." 
 
 " Dona 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 
 
 ivine Word." 
 
 "Are you satisfied with your journey?" 
 
 " Sufficiently so, for these men are 
 not such as they are represented to us. 
 Their instincts are noble, and, as their 
 primitive nature is not adulterated by 
 contact with the vicious civilization that 
 surrounds them, they easily understood 
 what is explained to them." 
 
 " Do you reckon on staying long 
 among us ?'' 
 
 " Yes ; this last journey has fatigued 
 me extremely. My health is in a de 
 plorable state, and 1 absolutely need a 
 few days' rest in order to regain the 
 requisite strength to continue my min 
 istry." 
 
 " Well, father, come with me to the 
 hacienda; yon will remain with us, and 
 make us all truly happy." 
 
 " 1 am going to make that request to 
 you, Don Miguel. I am delighted that 
 you have thus met my wishes. If I ac 
 cept your obliging offer, it is because I 
 know I shall not incommode you." 
 
 " On the contrary, we shall be de 
 lighted to have you among us." 
 
 " Ah ! I know the goodness of your 
 heart." 
 
 " Do not make me better than I am, 
 father : there is a spiae of egotism in 
 what I am doing." 
 
 " How so ?" 
 
 " Hang it ! by laboring at the educa 
 tion of the Indians you render an im 
 mense service to the race 1 have the. 
 honor of belonging 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 jiwt at 
 present ?" 
 
T6 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " Yes, there is a great deal : the buf 
 faloes have come down from the moun 
 tains 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 to me." 
 
 " All the better, I ever tremble 
 when I know you are among those red 
 devils. I do not say that of the Corn- 
 anches, who are warriors I esteem, and 
 have always displayed the sincerest 
 affection for you ; but I have a terrible 
 fear lest those villains of Apaches may 
 play you a wicked trick some fine 
 day." ' 
 
 " Why entertain such ideas, my 
 friend ?" 
 
 "They are correct. You cannot im 
 agine what treacherous and cruel cow 
 ards those Apache thieves are. I know 
 them, and carry their marks; but do 
 not frighten yourself. If ever they 
 ventured on any extremities 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 commit." 
 
 " All right all right !" the hunter 
 growled. " You have your ideas on 
 that score, and. I mine." 
 
 " Yes," the missionary replied with a 
 smile, " but I believe mine be better." 
 
 " It is possible. You know 1 do not 
 discuss that subject with you ; for I do 
 not know 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 Uni 
 corn, the principal chief of the Com- 
 anches, and Stanapat (the Handful of 
 Blood), the Apache sachem, to an in 
 terview, at which peace was sworn." 
 
 " Hum !" Valentine said incredulous- 
 y, " that peace will not last long, for 
 LJnicorn h;is too many reasons to owe 
 he Apaches a grudge." 
 
 " Nothing leads to the supposition, at 
 jresent, that your forebodings will be 
 speedily realised." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " Because, when I left Unicorn, he 
 was preparing for a grand buffalo hunt, 
 n which five hundred picked warriors 
 were to take part." 
 
 " Ah, ah ! and where do you think 
 the hunt will take place, father ?" 
 
 " 1 know for a certainty, because, 
 when I left Unicorn, he begged me to 
 nvite you to it, as he knew I should 
 iee you shortly." 
 
 "I willingly accept, for a buffalo hunt 
 always had great attractions for me.'' 
 
 " You will not have far to go to find 
 Unicorn, for he is scarce ten leagues 
 from this place." 
 
 " The hunt will take place, then, in 
 the neighborhood ?" 
 
 " 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 rne." 
 
 " All the better, my friend. Now, 
 gentlemen, 1 will ask you to excuse me ; 
 for 1 feel so broken with fatigue that, 
 with your permission, I will go and take 
 a few hours' rest." 
 
 " I was a fool not to think of it be 
 fore," Valentine exclaimed with vexa 
 tion as he struck his foreherd. " Par 
 don me, father." 
 
 " I thought for my brother," said 
 Curumilla. '' If my father will follow 
 me all is ready." 
 
 The missionary thanked him with a 
 smile and rose, bowed to all present, 
 and supported by Eagle-wing, he 
 followed Curumilla into another cham 
 ber 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 retir 
 ed after bowing respectfully to the 
 father, and assuring themselves that he 
 needed nothing more. 
 
 After kneeling on the ground of the 
 grotto Father Seraphin laid himself on 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 77 
 
 his bed of leaves, crossed his arms on 
 his chest, and ft-11 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 Hacienda de la Noria, accompa 
 nied 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 
 driving at." 
 
 " That is not necessary at this mo 
 ment. 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. 
 Bi.'t where will you be all this while?'' 
 
 " You know very well," he answered 
 with a smile of undefinable meaning. 
 
 " 1 shall be hunting the buffalo with 
 my friend Unicorn, the great Chief of 
 the Comanches." 
 
 Hastily breaking off the interview, 
 the hunter wrapped himself in his buf 
 falo robe, stretched himself before the 
 fire, closed his eyes, and slept, or feign 
 ed to sleep. After a few minutes' hesi 
 tation his friend 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 Sera 
 phin, on the previous evening 1 , had 
 whispered a couple of words in the In 
 dians' ears. The sun had scarce begun 
 to rise a little above the ex:reme blue 
 line of the horizon ere the missionary 
 opened his eyes, and after a short 
 prayer hurried to the hall in which his 
 companions had remained. The four 
 men were still asleep, wrapped in their 
 furs and buffalo skins. 
 
 " Wake up, brothers," Father Sera 
 phin said, " for day is appearing." 
 
 The four men started up in an in 
 stant. 
 
 " My brothers," the young mission 
 ary said in a gentle and penetrating; 
 voice, " I thought that we ought, before 
 separating, to thank God in common 
 for the blessings He does not cease to 
 vouchsafe to us to celebrate our hap 
 py meeting of last night. I have, 
 therefore, resolved to hold a mass, at 
 which I shall be happy to see you, with 
 that purity of heart which such a duty 
 demands." 
 
 At this proposition the four men ex 
 claimed gladly their assent. 
 
 " I will help you to prepare the altar, 
 father," Valentine said ; " the idea is- 
 excellent." 
 
 " The altar is all ready, my friends. 
 Have the kindness to follow me." 
 
 Father Seraphin then led them out of 
 the grotto. 
 
 In the centre of a small explanade in 
 front of the cave an altar had been- 
 built by Eagle- wing and Curumilla oa 
 a grassy mound. It was very simple. 
 A copper crucifix planted in the centre 
 of the mound, covered by a cloth of 
 dazzling whiteness; on either side of it 
 two block-tin candlesticks, in which 
 burned candles of yellow tallow, :"t 
 Bible on the right, the pyx in the cen 
 tre that was all. 
 
 The hunter and the two Mexicans 
 knelt piously, and Father Seraphin 
 commenced offering the holy sacrifice, 
 served devotedly by the two Indian 
 chiefs. 
 
 It was a magnificent morning ; thou- 
 
78 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 sands of birds, hidden beneath the 
 foliage, saluted the birth of day with 
 their harmonious songs ; a fickle breeze 
 poured through the branches, and re 
 freshed the air ; in the distance, far as 
 eye could extend, undulated the prairie, 
 with its oceans of tall grass incessantly 
 agitated by the hurried foot falls of the 
 wild beasts returning to their dens ; 
 and on the naked side of this hill, at 
 the entrance of this grotto one of the 
 marvels of the New World a priest, 
 simple as an apostle, was celebrating 
 mass on a grass altar under the eye of 
 Heaven, served by two poor savages, 
 and having as sole congregation three 
 half-civilized men. 
 
 This spectacle, so simple primitive, 
 had something about it imposing and 
 sublime, which inspired respect and 
 summoned up dreams of ancient days, 
 when the persecuted church took refuge 
 in the desert, to find itself face to face 
 with God. Hence the emotion expe 
 rienced by the witnesses of this relig 
 ious act was sincere. A beam of hap 
 piness descended into their souls, and it 
 was with real effusion that they thanked 
 the priest for the pleasant surprise he 
 had reserved for them. Father Sera- 
 phin was delighted at the 7-esult he had 
 attained. Seeing the truly profound 
 faith of his friends, he felt his courage 
 heightened to continue the rude and no 
 ble task he had imposed on himself. 
 
 The mass lasted about three quarters 
 of an hour. When it was finished the 
 missionary placed the poor holy vessels 
 in the bag he constantly carried with 
 him, and they returned to the grotto 
 for breakfast. An hour later, Don Mi 
 guel, General Ibanez, and the mission 
 ary Look leave of Valentine, and mount 
 ed on their horses, which Curumilla had 
 led ,to the entrance of the ravine. They 
 started at a gallop in the direction of 
 the Paso del Norte, whence they were 
 about twenty leagues distant. Valen 
 tine and the two Indian chiefs remained 
 behind. 
 
 " 1 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 
 vengeance." 
 
 " Where goes my brother 1" the 
 hunter asked, who was too thoroughly 
 acquainted with the character of the In 
 dians 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 
 father !" 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 re 
 member," the chief said with a deep in 
 tonation. 
 
 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 departure with 
 a sad and melancholy look. 
 
 " Shall I ever see him again ?" he 
 murmured. " 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 des 
 tiny." 
 
 After this aside the hunter threw his 
 rifle on his shoulder and started in his 
 turn, followed by Curumilla. Valen 
 tine and his comrade were on foot : they 
 preferred that mode of travelling, which 
 seemed to them sure, and quite as quick 
 as on horseback. The two men, after 
 the Indian custom, walked one behind 
 the other, not uttering a syllable ; but 
 toward mid-day the heat became so in 
 supportable that they were obliged to 
 stop to take a few moments' repose. 
 At length the sunbeams lost their 
 strength, the evening breeze rose, and 
 the hunters could resume their journey. 
 They soon reached the banks ot the Rio 
 Fuerco (Dirty River), which they be 
 gan ascending, keeping as close as they 
 could to the banks, while following the 
 tracks made since time in. memorial by 
 wild animals coming down to drink. 
 
 The man unacquainted with the splen 
 did American scenery will have a difti 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 79 
 
 culty in imagining the imposing and 
 savage majesty of the prairie the hun 
 ters were traversing. The river, stud 
 ded with islets covered with cotton- 
 wood trees, flowed silent and rapid 
 between banks of slight elevation, and 
 overgrown with grass so tall that it 
 obeyed the impulse of the wind from a 
 long distance. Over the vast plain 
 were scattered innumerable hills, whose 
 summits, nearly all of the same height, 
 present a flat surface; and for a greater 
 dista, ce northward the ground was 
 broadcast with large lumps of pebbles 
 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 height. The Indians, 
 who, like all primitive nations, are 
 caught by anything strange, frequently 
 assembled at this spot; and here the 
 hecatombs are offered to the Kitchi 
 Manitou. 
 
 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 protect 
 ing 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 was covered with 
 tall grass, continually undulating be 
 neath the light footfall of the graceful 
 antelopes or big horns, which bounded 
 from one rock to the other, startled by 
 the approach of the travellers. 
 
 Far, far away on the horizon, ming 
 ling with the azure of the sky, appeared 
 the denuded peaks of the lofty moun- 
 tiins that serve as unassailable fortres 
 ses to the Indians : their summits, co 
 vered with eternal snow, formed the 
 frame of this immense and imposing 
 picture, which was stamped with a 
 gloomy and mysterious grandeur. 
 
 At the hour when the maukawis ut 
 tered its last S"ng to salute the setting 
 of the sun, which, half plunged in the 
 purple of evening, still jaspered the sky 
 with long red bands, the travellers per 
 ceived the tents of the Comanches pic 
 
 turesquely grouped on the sides of a 
 verdurous -hill. The Indians had, in a 
 few hours, improvised a real village 
 with their buffalo-skin tents, aligned to 
 form streets and squares. 
 
 On arriving at about five hundred 
 yards from the village the hunters sud 
 denly perceived an Indian horseman. 
 Evincing not the slightest surprise, they 
 stopped and unfolded their buffalo 
 robes, which floated in the breeze, as a 
 signal of peace. The horseman uttered 
 a loud cry. At this signal for it was 
 evidently one a troop of Comanche 
 warriors debouched at a gallop from the 
 village, and poured like a torrent down 
 the sides of the hill, coming up close to 
 the motionless travellers, brandishing 
 their weapons, and uttering their war- 
 yell. 
 
 The hunters waited, carelessly lean 
 ing on their guns. Assuredly, to a man 
 not acquainted with the singular man 
 ners of the prairie, this mode of recep 
 tion would have seemed overt hostili 
 ties. But it was not so ; for, on coming 
 within range of the hunters, the Coman 
 ches began making their horses leap and 
 curvet with that grace and skill char 
 acteristic of the Indians, and deploying 
 to the right and left, they formed a vast 
 circle, inclosing the two unmoved hun 
 ters. 
 
 Then a horseman quitted the group, 
 dismounted, and rapidly approached the 
 new comers : the latter hastened to 
 meet him. All three had their arm ex 
 tended 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 mascu 
 line and expressive features ; his face 
 possessed a remarkable intelligence, and 
 was stamped with that natural 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 arm 
 ed for war ; his black hair was drawn 
 up on his head in the form of a casque, 
 
80 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 and fell down his back like a mane ; a 
 profusion of wampum collars, claws of 
 grizzly bear, and buffalo teeth adorned 
 his breast, on which was painted with 
 rare dexterity a blue tortoise, the dis 
 tinctive sign of the tribe to which he 
 belonged, and of the size of a hand. 
 
 The rest of his costume was compos 
 ed 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 mitasse, were 
 fringed with leather strips and feathers; 
 a wide cloak, of the hide of a female 
 buffalo, was fastened across his shoul 
 ders with a buckle of pure gold, and 
 fell down to the ground ; on his feet he 
 had elegant moccasins of different co 
 lors, embroidered with beads and por 
 cupine quills, from the heels of which 
 trailed several wolf tails ; a light 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 toma 
 hawk, a bow, and an American rifle ; 
 but a long whip, the handle of which 
 painted red, was adorned with scalps, 
 indicated his rank as chief. 
 
 When the three men were close to 
 gether they saluted by raising their 
 hands to their foreheads ; then Valen 
 tine 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 Comanche 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. 1 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 fur the buffa 
 
 lo hunt his young people are prepnr- 
 ig.'- 
 
 " Here we are ! We set out this 
 morning at sunrise." 
 
 " My brothers will follow me, and 
 rest at the council fire." 
 
 The hunters bowed assent. Each 
 received a horse, and at a signal from 
 Unicorn, who had placed himself be 
 tween them, the troop started at a gal 
 lop, and returned to the village, which 
 it entered to the deafening sound of 
 drums, chikikoues, shouts of joy from 
 the women and children who saluted 
 their return, and the furious barking of 
 the dogs. When the chiefs were seat 
 ed round the council fire the pipe was 
 lit, and ceremoniously presented to ti.e 
 two strangers, who smoked in silence 
 for some minutes. When the pipe had 
 gone the round several times Unicorn 
 addressed Valentine. 
 
 " Koutonepi is a great hunter," he 
 said to him ; " he has often followed the 
 buffalo on the plains of the Dirty Riv 
 er. The chief will tell him the prepa 
 rations he has made, that the hunter 
 may give his opinion." 
 
 " It is needless, chiefs," Valentine re 
 plied. " The buffalo is the friend of 
 the redskins : the Comanches know all 
 its stratagems. 1 should like to ask a 
 question of my brother." 
 
 il 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 
 suspicious : my young men are sur 
 rounding them, but they drive them in 
 our direction before four or five days." 
 
 Valentine gave a start of joy. 
 
 " Good," he said. " Is my brother 
 sure of it?" 
 
 " Very sure." 
 
 "How many warriors have remained 
 with the chief?" 
 
 " About four hundred : the rest are 
 scattered over the plain to announce the 
 approach of the buffaloes." 
 
 ' Good ! If my brother likes I will 
 procure him a fine hunt within three 
 days." 
 
 " Ah !" the chief exclaimed, " then 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 81 
 
 my brother has started some game ?" 
 
 "Oh!" Valentine answered with a 
 laugh, " let my brother trust to me, and 
 I promise him rich spoils." 
 
 " Good ! Of what game does my 
 brother speak ?" 
 
 " Of gachupinos. In two days they 
 will meet in large numbers not far from 
 here." 
 
 " Wah !" said the Comanche, 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. 
 
 Curumillaand Unicorn alone remain 
 ed near the fire. 
 
 Valentine then explained to the Co 
 manche, in its fullest details, the plan 
 he had conceived, in the execution of 
 which the aid of the Indians was indis 
 pensable for him. Unicorn listened at 
 tentively without interrupting. When 
 Valentine had ended : 
 
 " What does my brother think ?" the 
 latter asked, fixing a scrutinizing glance 
 on the impassive countenance of the 
 chief. 
 
 " Wah !" the other replied, " the 
 pale-face is very crafty. Unicorn will 
 do what he desires." 
 
 This assurance filled Valentine's heart 
 with joy. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE HUNT OF WILD HORSES. 
 
 DON MIGUEL ZARATE and his two 
 friends did not reach the hacienda till 
 late. They were received in the porch 
 by Don Pablo and Dona 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 Ambrosio 
 had always seen his advances repelled 
 by the young people, in whom he in 
 stinctively inspired that fear mingled 
 with disgust that is experienced at the 
 sight of a reptile. 
 
 Dona Clara, who was very pious, 
 carried this repulsion to such a pitch 
 that she only confessed her faults and 
 approached the holy table when Father 
 Seraphin came to spend a few days at 
 the hacienda. 
 
 Fray Ambrosio was too adroit to ap 
 pear to notice the effect his presence 
 produced on the haciendero's children: 
 he feigned to attribute to timidity and 
 indifference on religious matters 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 already attempted to des 
 troy by well-laid snares. 
 
 Father Seraphin had always escaped 
 them by a providential chance ; but in 
 spite of the chaplain's obsequious ad 
 vances, and the offers of service he did 
 not fail to overwhelm him with each 
 time they met, the missionary had thor 
 oughly read the Mexican monk. He 
 hud guessed what fearful corruption was 
 hidden beneath his apparent simplicity 
 and feigned piety : and while keeping 
 to himself the certainty he had acquir 
 ed, he remained on his guard, and care 
 fully watched this man, whom he sus 
 pected of incessantly planning some 
 dark treachery against him. Don Mi 
 guel left his children with the mission 
 ary, who immediately took possession 
 of him and dragged him away, lavish 
 ing on him every possible attention. 
 The haciendero retired to his study 
 with General Ibanez, when the two men 
 drew up a list of the persons they in 
 tended 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 mount 
 ed his horse, and rode off to deliver 
 the invitations personally. 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 chosen for the hunt. 
 
 Gen. Ibanez succeeded perfectly : the 
 invitations were gladly accepted, and 
 the next evening the guests began ar 
 riving at the hacienda, Don Miguel re 
 ceiving them with marks of the most 
 profound respect and lavish hospitality. 
 
82 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 The governor, General Isturitz, Don 
 Luciano Perez, and seven or eight per 
 sons of inferior rank were soon assem 
 bled at the hacienda. At sunrise a 
 numerous party, composed of forty 
 persons, left the hacienda, and proceed 
 ed, accompanied by a crowd of well- 
 mounted peons, towards 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 per 
 sons who composed it, and their horses 
 glittering with gold and silver. Start 
 ing at about four a. m. from the hacien 
 da, they reached four hours later a clump 
 of trees, beneath whose shade tents had 
 been raised and tables laid by Don Mi 
 guel's orders, so that they might break 
 fast before the hunt. 
 
 The riders, who had been journeying 
 for four hours, already 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 in 
 vited to do the same, among them be 
 ing the wives of the governor and Gen 
 eral Isturitz, and Dona Clara, and they 
 gaily sat down round the tables. 
 
 Toward the end of the breakfast Don 
 Pablo arrived, who' had started the 
 evening previously to join the va 
 queros. He announced that the horses 
 had been started, that a large manada 
 was now crossing the Plain of the Coy 
 otes, watched by the vaqueros, and 
 that they must make haste if they wish 
 ed to have good sport. This news aug 
 mented 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 
 batiks of the river. Here and there 
 rose wooded hills, which varied the 
 landscape that was rendered monoto 
 nous by the tall grass, in which the rid 
 ers 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 the leader of the va 
 queros. 
 
 The races of wild horses that now-a- 
 days people the deserts of North Ame 
 rica, and especially of Mexico, is de 
 scended from Cortez' cavalry. Henca 
 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 
 rnanadas 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 fail 
 idea without having seen them. The} 
 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 
 frizzy like the wool of sheep. In spring 
 this species of fur falls off. The Ame 
 rican horses may be easily trained, 
 Generally, so soon as they find them 
 selves caught they easily submit to the 
 saddle. 
 
 The Mexicans treat their steeds very 
 harshly, make them journey the whole 
 day without food or drink, and only 
 give them their ration of maize and 
 water on reaching the bivouac, where 
 they let them wander about the whole 
 night under guard of the nena, a mare 
 whose bell the horses fullow, and will 
 never leave. It is not from any cruel 
 motive, however, that the Mexicans 
 treat their horses thus, for the riders 
 are very fond of their animals, which at 
 a given moment may save their lives. 
 But it seems that this mode of treat 
 ment, which would be impracticable in 
 Europe, is perfectly successful in Mexi 
 co, where the horses are much better 
 off than if treated in a more gentle way. 
 
 The leader of the vaqueros made his 
 report. A manada of about ten thou 
 sand head was two leagues off on the 
 plain, quietly grazing in the company 
 of a few elks and buffaloes. The hunters 
 scaled a hill, from the top of which they 
 easily saw on the horizon a countless 
 mob of animals, grouped in a most pic 
 turesque way, and apparently not at all 
 suspecting the danger that threatened 
 them. 
 
THE TRAIL- HUNTER. 
 
 83 
 
 To hunt the wild horses men must 
 be like the Mexicans, perfect centaurs. 
 I have seen the ginetes of that country 
 accomplish feats of horsemanship before 
 which our Europeans would turn pale. 
 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 in Mexico 
 he grand circle of the wild horses ; 
 hat is to say, the most skilful riders 
 were eclielonned in every direction at a 
 certain distance from each other, so as 
 to forzn an immense circle. The wild 
 horses are extremely suspicious : their 
 instinct is so great, their scent is so 
 subfJe, 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 neces 
 sary to act with the greatest prudence, 
 aud 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 manoeuvre had gone on for some 
 time, and they had sensibly drawn 
 nearer, when the manada began to dis 
 play 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 com 
 pact band, and started at a trot in the 
 direction of some cotton-wood 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 inanada, 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 fluttering 
 in the wind, as they bounded and gal 
 loped 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 manoeuvre had lasted long 
 enough, and the horses began to grow 
 blinded with terror, at a signal given by 
 Don Miguel the circle was broken at a 
 certain spot. The horses rushed, witii 
 a sound like thunder, toward this issue 
 which opened before them, overturning 
 with their chests everything that barred 
 their progress. But it was this th 
 hunters expected. The horses, in their 
 mad race, galloped on without dream 
 ing that the road they followed grew 
 gradually narrower in front of them, 
 and terminated in inevitable captivity. 
 
 Let us explain the termination of the 
 hunt. The manada had been cleverly 
 guided by the hunters toward the en 
 trance of a canon, or ravine, which ran 
 between two rattier lofty hills. At the 
 end of this ravine the vaqueros had 
 formed, with stakes fifteen feet long, 
 planted in the ground, and firmly fas 
 tened together with cords of twisted 
 bark, an immense corral or inclosure, 
 into which the horses rushed without 
 seeing it. In less than 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 magnificent 
 wild horses were thus captured at one 
 stroke. 
 
 The noble animals rushed with snorts 
 of fury at the walls of the inclosure, 
 trying to tear up the stakes with their 
 teeth, and dashing madly 'against them. 
 At length they recognised the futility 
 of their efforts, lay down, and remained 
 motionless. In the meanwhile a tre 
 mendous struggle was going on in the 
 ravine between the hunters and the rest 
 of the manada. The horses confined in 
 this narrow space made extraordinary 
 efforts to open a passage and fly anew. 
 They neighed, stamped, and flew at 
 everything that came within their reach. 
 At length they succeeded in regaining 
 
84 
 
 THE TKAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 their first direction, and rushed into the 
 plain with the velocity of an avalanche. 
 Several vaqueros had been dismounted 
 and trampled on by the horses, and two 
 of them had received such injuries that 
 they were carried off the ground in a 
 state of insensibility. 
 
 With all the impetuosity of youth 
 Don Pablo had rushed into the very 
 heart of the manada. Suddenly his 
 horse received a kick which broke its 
 off tore leg, and it fell to the ground, 
 dragging its rider with it. The hunters 
 uttered a cry of terror and agony. In 
 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 seiz 
 ing 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 po 
 sition was impossible. Then a strange 
 thing occurred an extraordinary strug 
 gle between the horse and its rider. 
 The noble beast, furious at feeling its 
 back dishonored by the weight it bore, 
 bounded, reared, rushed 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 burden 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 dig- 
 . ging his knees into the panting sides of 
 his steed ; he unfastened his cravat, 
 and prepared to play the last scene in 
 this drama, which threatened to termi 
 nate 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 submit. The hunters fol 
 lowed 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 uttered a shout of agony. Don 
 
 Pablo clung convulsively to his ani 
 mal'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 trem 
 bling with terror. Then the young 
 man dismounted, put his face to the 
 horse's head, and breathed into its nos 
 trils, while gently scratching its fore 
 head. This operation lasted ten min 
 utes at the most, the horse punting 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. (This mode of 
 taming horses is well known to the In 
 dians, and we submit the fact to our 
 readers without comment.) 
 
 Everybody rushed toward the young 
 man, who smiled proudly, in order to 
 compliment him on his splendid victo 
 
 r y- 
 
 Don Pablo dismounted, gave his horse 
 to a vaquero, who immediately passed 
 a bridle round its neck, and then walk 
 ed 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 rapidly descending in the hori 
 zon : 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 bivouacking 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 they had ladies 
 with them. Left one or two leagues in 
 the rear, they must feel alarmed by the 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 85 
 
 absence of the hunters an absence 
 which, as so frequently happens when 
 out hunting, had been protracted far be 
 yond all expectation. 
 
 Don Miguel gave the vaqueros orders 
 to brand the captured horses with his 
 cipher ; and the whole party then re 
 turned, laughing and singing, in 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 complete darkness; 
 for, as the sun descended on the horizon, 
 the shade invaded the sky in equal pro 
 portions, 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 formidable concert, in which joined at 
 intervals, from the inaccessible depths 
 of the forest, the snapping of the carca 
 jous and the barking 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 hurried footfalls 
 of 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 mysterious 
 breath passed over them, and compelled 
 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 ni<rht, 
 beneath this sky studded with brilliant 
 stars, which sparkled like emeralds, in 
 the presence of this sublime immensity, 
 \s Inch only suffered one voice to be 
 heard that of Deity. 
 
 The young and enthusiastic man to 
 whom it is given to be present at such 
 a spectacle feels a thrill run over all 
 his body : he experiences an undefinable 
 feeling of 'happiness and extraordinary 
 
 pleasure on looking round him at the 
 desert, whose unexplored depths con 
 ceal from him so many secrets, and dis 
 play to him Divine Majesty in all its 
 grandeur and omnipotence. Many a 
 time during our adventurous journeys 
 on the American continent, when 
 marching at hazard during these lovely 
 nights so full of charms, which nothing 
 can make those comprehend who have 
 not experienced them, we have yielded 
 to the soft emotions that overcame us. 
 Isolating and absorbing ourselves with 
 in ourselves, w have fallen into a state 
 of beatitude, from which nothing had 
 the power of draw ng us. 
 
 The hunters so gay and talkative at 
 the start, had yielded to this omnipotent 
 influence 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 desert ; and while, owing 
 to the astonishing transparency of the 
 atmosphere, the eye could embrace an 
 horizon, nothing suspicious was visible. 
 
 The fire-flies buzzed carelessly round 
 the top of the grass, and the flickering 
 fires burning before the tents to which 
 the hunters 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 trot 
 ted, set out at a long canter ; for each 
 felt anxious to leave a scene which, in 
 the darkness, had assumed a sinister 
 aspect. 
 
 They thus arrived within a hundred 
 yards of the fires, whose ruddy glow 
 was reflected 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 uttering his 
 war-cry. Tne Mexicans, taken un 
 awares, were surrounded ere they suffi 
 ciently 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 Comanche warriors sur 
 rounding them was at least three hun 
 dred. 
 
 The Comanches and Apaches are the 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 most implacable foes of the white race. 
 la their periodical invasions of the 
 frontiers they hardly ever make any 
 prisoners : they mercilessly kill all 
 who fall into their hands. Sail the 
 Mexicans rallied. Certain of the fate 
 that awaited them, they were resolved 
 to sell their lives dearly. There was a 
 moment of supreme expectation before 
 the commencement of the deadly com 
 bat, when suddenly an Indian galloped 
 out of the ranks of the warriors, and 
 rode within three paces of the Hi tie band 
 of Mexicans. On arriving there he 
 stopped, and waved his buffalo robe in 
 sign of peace. 
 
 The govei'nor of the provinces pre 
 pared to speak. 
 
 " Let me carry on the negotiations," 
 Don Miguel said. " 1 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 one who 
 had remained calm and impassive since 
 the surprise : 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 hummed a seguedilla 
 between his teeth. ' 
 
 Don Pablo had placed himself by his 
 father's side, ready to defeud 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 listen 
 ing to the insidious words which you 
 are preparing to say to us," Don Miguel 
 replied in a haughty voice. " YVith- 
 draw, and do not obstinately bar our 
 passage, or there will be blood spilt." 
 
 " The pale-faces will have brought it 
 on themselves," the Cornanche answer 
 ed 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 our 
 selves be so easily deceived as he seems 
 to suppose : we know very well that he 
 wants our scalps." 
 
 " No ; Unicorn wishes to make a bar 
 gain with the pale- faces." 
 
 " Come, chief, explain yourself; per 
 
 haps your intentions are as you de 
 scribe 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 
 listen, then, to the words Unicorn will 
 pronounce." 
 
 " 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 lo 
 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 courage failed them ; they had 
 only one desire left that of saving 
 those who had so wretchedly fallen into 
 the hands of these blood-thirsty men. 
 
 " On what conditions will the Comun- 
 ches restore their prisoners ?" Don Mi 
 guel 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 as 
 sailed him at this moment. 
 
 " The pale-faces," the chief continued, 
 " will dismount and arrange themselves 
 in a line. Unicorn will choose from 
 among his enemies those whom he 
 thinks proper to carry off as prisoners; 
 the rest will be free, and all the women 
 restored." 
 
 " Those conditions are harsh, chief. 
 Can you not modify them ?" 
 
 " A chief has only one word. Do 
 the pale-faces consent ?" 
 
 "Let us consult together for a few 
 moments at any rate." 
 
 " Good ! Let the white men consult. 
 Unicorn grants them ten minutes," the 
 chief made answer. 
 
 And turning his horse, he went back 
 to his men. Don Miguel then address 
 ed his friends. 
 
 " Well, what do you think of what 
 has occurred ?" 
 
 The Mexicans were terrified : still 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 87 
 
 they were compelled to allow* that th 
 conduct of the Indians was extraordina 
 ry, and that they had never befor 
 evinced such lenity. Now that reflec 
 tion had followed on the first feeling o 
 excitement, they understood that \ 
 struggle against enemies so numerou 
 was insensate, and could only result ir 
 rendering their position worse than i 
 was before, and that the chiefs condi 
 tions, harsh as they were, offered a 
 ' least some chance of safety for a portior 
 of them, and the ladies would be saved 
 This last and all-powerful considera 
 tion decided them. Don Miguel had no 
 occasion t6 convince them of the neces 
 sity of submission. Whatever struggle 
 it cost them, they dismounted and ar 
 ranged themselves in a line, as the chief 
 had demanded, Don Miguel and his son 
 placing themselves at the head. 
 
 Unicorn, with that cool courage cha 
 racteristic of the Indians, then advanced 
 alone toward the Mexicans, who still 
 held their weapons, and. who, impelled 
 by their despair, and at the risk of be 
 ing all massacred, would have sacrificed 
 him to their vengeance. The chief had 
 also dismounted. With his hands 
 crossed on his back, and trownino- brow, 
 he now commenced his inspection. 
 
 Many a heart contracted at his ap 
 proach, for a question of life and death 
 was being decided for these hapless 
 men : only the perspective of the atro 
 cious 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 fatal 
 circle that begirt them. Still, by a 
 strange accident, or a premeditation of 
 which the reason escaped them, these 
 (ight prisoners among whom were the 
 governor, General Jsturitz, and the 
 criminal judge, Don Luciano Perez 
 were the most important personages in 
 the party, and the members of the Pro 
 vincial Government. 
 
 It was not without surprise that Don 
 Miguel observed this ; the Comanches, 
 however, faithfully fulfilled their com 
 pact, and the ladies 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 done the hunters that is to say, 
 the camp was invaded simultaneously 
 on all sides. It was a matter worthy 
 of remark in an Indian ambuscade that 
 not a drop of blood had been spilt. 
 
 After the moments given up to the 
 happiness of seeing his daughter again 
 safe and sound, Don Miguel resolved to 
 make a last attempt with Unicorn in 
 favor of the unhappy men who remained 
 in his hands. The chief listened with 
 deference, and let him speak without 
 interruption ; then he replied, with a 
 smile whose expression the haciendero 
 tried in vain to explain : 
 
 " My father has Indian blood in his 
 veins ; the redskins love him : never 
 will they do him the slightest injury. 
 Unicorn would like to restore him im 
 mediately the prisoners, for whom he 
 sares very little ; but tliat is impos- 
 ible. My father himself would speedily 
 regret Unicorn's obedience to his wish ; 
 out, in order to prove to my father how 
 nuch the chief desires to do a thing 
 ,hat will be agreeable to him, the pri 
 soners will not be ill-treated, and will 
 )e let off with a few days' annoyance. 
 Jnicorn consents to accept a ransom 
 or them, instead of making them 
 slaves. My father can himself tell 
 hem this good news." 
 
 " Thanks, chief," Don Miguel an- 
 vvered. " The nobility of your charac- 
 er touches my heart : I shall not forget 
 t. Be persuaded that, under all cir- 
 umstances, I shall be happy to prove 
 o you how grateful I am." 
 
 The chief bowed gracefully and with- 
 rew, in order to give the haciendero 
 iberty to communicate with his com- 
 anions. The latter were seated sadly 
 n the ground, gloomy and downcast. 
 )on Miguel repeated to them the con- 
 ersation he had held with Unicorn, and 
 be promise he had made with respect 
 o them. This restored them all their 
 ourage ; and, with the most affectionate 
 vords and marks of the liveliest joy, 
 uey thanked the haciendero for the at- 
 empt he had made in their favor. 
 
 in fact, thanks to the promise of 
 berating them for a ransom at the end 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 of a week, and treating them well dur 
 ing 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 propor 
 tions had been so reduced in their eyes, 
 that, with the carelessness which forms 
 the staple of the national character, they 
 were the first to laugh at their mishap. 
 
 Don Miguel, however, was anxious 
 to retire ; so he took leave of his com 
 panions, and rejoined the chief. The 
 latter repeated his assurances that the 
 prisoners should be free within a week, 
 if they consented each to pay a ransom 
 of one thousand piastres, which was a 
 trifle. He assured the haciendero that 
 he was at liberty to withdraw whenever 
 he pleased, and he should not oppose 
 his departure. 
 
 Don Miguel did not allow the invita 
 tion to be repeated. His friends and 
 himself immediately mounted their 
 horses, together with the ladies, who 
 were placed in the centre of the detach 
 ment ; and after taking leave of Unicorn, 
 the Mexicans dug their spurs into their 
 horses, and started at a gallop, glad to 
 have got off so cheaply. The camp- 
 fires 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? 1 fancy that they have this 
 night given a bold push to the success 
 of our enterprise." 
 
 This thought, like a ray of light, had 
 already crossed the haciendero's brain 
 several times. 
 
 " 1 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 
 rapidly toward the hacienda, which was 
 now no great distance, and which they 
 hoped to reach before sunrise. The 
 events we have 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, s 
 the chief is called, is a precious man in 
 certain circumstances. I am anxious 
 to cultivate his acquaintance, for no on 3 
 knows what may happen. It is often 
 good to have so intelligent a friend as 
 him at hand." 
 
 " You are always 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 gaiety. If we are con 
 quered, it will be time enough then to 
 be sad, and make bitter reflections 
 about the instability of human affairs." 
 
 " Yes, your philosophy is not with 
 out 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 our last card.'' 
 
 " All is not desperate yet, and I have 
 a secret foreboding, on the contrary, 
 that all is for the best. Our friend the 
 Trail-hunter, I feel convinced, has some 
 thing to do, if not all, with what has 
 happened to us." 
 
 "Do you believe it ?" Don Miguel 
 asked quickly. 
 
 " 1 am certain of it. You know as 
 well as I do these Indies Bravos, and 
 the implacable hatred they have vowed 
 against us. The war they wage with us 
 is atrocious ; and for them to be sud 
 denly 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 endur 
 ed for ages. The Comanchts, 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 inexplicable mystery in 
 all this." 
 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 80 
 
 " Which is very easy to explain 
 though," a laughing voice interrupted 
 from behind the shrubs. 
 
 The two Mexicans started, and check 
 ed their horses. 
 
 A man leaped from a thicket, and 
 suddenly appeared in the centre of the 
 track the little band of hunters was fol 
 lowing. The latter, believing in a fresh 
 attack and treachery on the part of the 
 Cornanches, 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, ad 
 dressing the stranger, who stood motion 
 less, carelessly resting on his gun. 
 " Who are you, my master?" 
 
 " Do you not recpgnise me, Don Mi 
 guel ? and must I really tell you my 
 name 1 ?" the stranger answered with a 
 laugh. 
 
 " The Trail-.hunter !" Don Miguel 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " Himself," Valentine continued. 
 " Hang it all ! you take a long time to 
 recognise your 'friends." 
 
 " You will forgive us when you know 
 all that has happened to us, and how 
 much we must keep on our guard." 
 
 " Confound it !" Valentine said laugh 
 ingly, as he regulated his pace by the 
 trot of the horses, " do you fancy you 
 are going to tell me any news 1 Did 
 you not really suspect from what quar 
 ter the blow came?" 
 
 " What !" Don Miguel exclaimed in 
 surprise, " did you " 
 
 " Who else but I ? Do you think the 
 Spaniards are such friends of the Indi 
 ana 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 the first mo 
 ment." 
 
 " Good heavens ! nothing was more 
 simple. Your position, through Red 
 Cedar's treachery, was most critical. I 
 wished to give you the time to turn 
 round by removing, for a few days, the 
 obstacles that prevented the success of 
 your plans. I have succeeded, I fancy." 
 
 " You could not have managed bet 
 ter," exclaimed the general. 
 
 " Oh !" Don Miguel said with a re 
 proachful accent, " why did you hide it 
 from me ?" 
 
 " For a very simple reason, my 
 friend. I wished that in these circum 
 stances your will and conscience should 
 be free." 
 
 But " 
 
 " Let me finish. Had I told you of 
 my plan, it is certain tha^ you would 
 have opposed it. You are a man of 
 honor, Don Miguel ; your heart is 
 most loyal." 
 
 " My friend " 
 
 " Answer me. Had I explained to 
 you the plan 1 formed, what would you 
 have done ?" 
 
 < Well " 
 
 " Answer frankly." 
 " I should have refused." 
 " 1 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 gentle 
 man would have revolted. I could 
 not have suffered such horrible treach 
 ery 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 con 
 science easy, and I have in 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 treated ?" 
 
 " Not at all ; on the contrary, the 
 Comanches, and llnicorn in particular, 
 treated them most kindly." 
 
 " All is for the best, then. You 
 must congratulate yourself on the un- 
 ixpected success you have achieved, 
 and must now profit by it without de 
 lay." 
 
90 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " I intend to do so." 
 
 " You must act at once." 
 
 " I ask nothing better. All is rea 
 dy. 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 
 daughter at the hacienda; then accom 
 panied 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 are all my relatives or 
 friends." 
 
 "All for the best. Let us not go 
 further. We are here at the place 
 where the roads part ; let your horses 
 breathe awhile, and I will tell you a 
 plan I have formed, and which, I think, 
 will please you." 
 
 The small party halted. The horse 
 men dismounted, and lay down on the 
 grass. As all knew of the conspiracy 
 formed by Don Miguel, and were his 
 accomplices in different degrees, this 
 halt did not surprise them, for they 
 suspected that the moment for action 
 was not far off, and that their chief 
 doubtless wished to take his final mea 
 sures before throwing off the mask, 
 and proclaiming 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 hope 
 lessly lost. 
 
 Valentine led the haciendero and the 
 general a short distance apart. When 
 they were out of ear-shot the hunter 
 carefully examined the neighborhood ; 
 !hen within a few minutes rejoined his 
 friends, whom his way of acting con 
 siderably perplexed. 
 
 " Caballeros," he said to them, " what 
 do you intend doing ? In our position 
 minutes are ages. Are you ready to 
 make your pronunciamento ?" 
 
 " Yes," they answered. 
 
 "This is what 1 propose. You, Don 
 Miguel, 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 Cana 
 dian and Indian hunters devoted to me. 
 They will form the nucleus of a band 
 sufficient for you to seize on Paso with 
 out striking a blow, as it is only defend 
 ed by a garrison of forty soldiers. Does 
 that plan suit you V 
 
 "Yes; I will set about it at once. 
 But my daughter ?" 
 
 " 1 will take charge of her. You will 
 also leave me your son, and I will con 
 vey them both to the hacienda. As for 
 the other ladies, 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 
 been echelonned by my care in parties 
 of ten and twenty along the Santa Fe 
 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-armed men." 
 
 " Why, Valentine, rny friend,'' the 
 general said laughingly, " do you know 
 there is the stuff in you to make a par 
 tisan chief, and that 1 am almost jealous 
 of you." 
 
 ' Oh ! that would be wrong, general : 
 I assure you I am most disinterested in 
 the 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 
 which will terminate with my 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 experience and activity per- , 
 mit me. That is the secret of my con- 1 
 duct." 
 
 " This profession of faith was at least 
 useless, my friend. 1 have known you 
 too intimately and too long to doubt 
 your intentions. Hence, you see, I place 
 such confidence in you, that. 1 accept 
 your ideas without discussion, so con 
 vinced am I of the purity of your inten 
 tions." 
 
 "Thanks, Don Miguel; you have 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 91 
 
 judged me correctly. Come, gentle 
 men, 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 ; white I, with Don Pablo and 
 his sister proceed straight on till we 
 reach the Hacienda de la Noria." 
 
 " To horse, then !" the haciendero 
 shouted resolutely ; " and may God 
 defend the right!" 
 
 " Yes," the general added ; ".for from 
 this moment the revolution is com 
 menced." 
 
 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 ex 
 claimed. "May Heaven keep you, 
 gentlemen !" 
 
 " Forward !" Don Miguel command 
 ed. 
 
 " Forward !" General Ibanez shout 
 ed, as he rushed in the opposite direc 
 tion. 
 
 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 mur 
 mured ; 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 Ditch, 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 1 
 Why has my father left us, instead of 
 coming to his house?" 
 
 " Yes," Don Pablo added, " he seem 
 ed 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 ac 
 companying him?" 
 
 Valentine hesitated to answer. 
 
 "I implore you, my friend," Dona 
 Clara continued, "do not leave us in 
 this mortal anxiety. The announce 
 ment of a misfortune would certainly 
 cause us less pain than the perplexity in 
 which we are." 
 
 " W T hy force me to speak, my chil 
 dren ?" the hunter answered in a sad 
 dened voice. "The secret 'you ask of 
 me is not mine. If your father did not 
 impart his plans to you, it was doubt 
 less 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 
 exclaimed. " It seems to me that my 
 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 ac 
 cept those poor reasons," the young 
 man urged. " In the name of our 
 friendship I insist on your explaining 
 yourself." 
 
 "Silence!" the hunter suddenly in 
 terrupted him. " I hear suspicious 
 sounds around us." 
 
 The three travelers stopped and lis 
 tened, butall was quiet. The hacienda 
 was about five hundred yards at the 
 most from the spot where they halted. 
 Don Pablo and Dona Clara heard noth 
 ing, but Valentine made them a si^n to 
 remain quiet ; then he dismounted and 
 placed his ear to the ground. 
 
 "Follow rne," he said. "Something 
 is happening here which I cannot make 
 out; but it alarms me." 
 
 The young people obeyed without 
 hesitation ; 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 di 
 rection of the travellers, and soon came 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 up to them. Suddenly Valentine bound 
 ed 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 1" the latter 
 said, nut 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 pro 
 found terror. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 
 
 RED CEDAR and Fray Ambrosio had 
 not remained inactive since their last 
 interview up to the day when Don Mi 
 guel set out to hunt the wild horses. 
 These two fellows, so suited to under 
 stand each other, had manoeuvred with 
 extreme skill. Fray Ambrosio, all 
 whose avaricious instincts had been 
 aroused since he had so artfully stolen 
 from poor Joaquin the secret of his 
 placer, had assembled a formidable col 
 lection of the bandits who always 
 swarm on the Indian frontiers. In a 
 few days he found himself at the head 
 of one hundred and twenty adventur 
 ers, all men who had cheated the gal 
 lows, 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, whc all knew Red Cedar 
 by reputation, burnt to set out, so con 
 vinced were they of carrying out a suc 
 cessful expedition under such a leader. 
 Only two men formed an exception to 
 this band of scoundrels, the smallest 
 culprit of whom had at least three or 
 four murders on his conscience. They 
 were Harry and Dick, who, for reasons 
 the reader has doubtless guessed, found 
 themselves, to their great regret, mixed 
 up with these bandits. Still we must 
 
 say, in justice to Fray Ambrosio's sol 
 diers, that they were all bold hunters, 
 accustomed for many a year to desert 
 life, who knew all its perils, and feared 
 none of its dangers. 
 
 Fray Ambrosio,- apprehending the 
 effects of mezcal and pulque on hi* 
 men, had made them bivouac at the 
 entrance of the desert, at a sufficiently 
 great distance from the Paso del Norte 
 to prevent them easily going there 
 The adventurers spent their time joy 
 ously in playing, not for money, as 
 they had none, but for the scalps they 
 intended presently to lift from the In 
 dians, each of which represented a very 
 decent sum. Still Fray Ambrosio, so 
 soon as his expedition was completely 
 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 he was entering 
 his jacal. 
 
 " What has become of you 1 ?" he ask 
 ed him. 
 
 " What does that concern you ?" the 
 squatter answered brutally. " Have I 
 to answer 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 
 when I want you." 
 
 " I have been attending to my busi 
 ness, as you have to yours." 
 
 " Well, are you satisfied ?" 
 
 " Very much so," he answered with a 
 sinister smile. " You will soon learn 
 the result 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." 
 
 " On this very night." 
 
 " Very good. You are like me, and 
 don't care to travel by day on account 
 of the heat of the sun." 
 
 The two accomplices smiled at this 
 delicate jest. 
 
 " But before starting," the squatter 
 continued, becoming serious again, " we 
 have something lett to do here." 
 
 "What is it ?" Fray Ambrosio asked 
 with candor. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 93 
 
 " It is wonderful what a short memo 
 ry you have. Take care : that failing 
 may play an awkward trick some day.' 
 
 "Thanks! I will try to correct it." 
 
 " Yes, and the sooner the better : in 
 the meanwhile 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 
 hacienda." 
 
 " 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 you 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 resolute men. You 
 will open the little gate of the corral, 
 and leave me to act. I'll answer for all." 
 
 " If yo wish it it must be so," Fray 
 Arnbrosio said with a sigh. 
 
 " Are you going to begin again ?" the 
 squatter asked in a meaning voice as he 
 rose. 
 
 " No, no, it is unnecessary," the monk 
 exclaimed. " I shall expect you." 
 
 " Good : till this evening." 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 On which the two accomplices sepa 
 rated. All happened as had been ar 
 ranged between them. At nine o'clock 
 lied Cedar reached the little gate, which 
 was opened for him by Fray Ambrosio, 
 and the squatter entered the hacienda 
 6 
 
 at the head of his three sons and a party 
 of bandits. The peons, surprised iu 
 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 reso 
 lute man, and is well accompanied : he; 
 will not let his daughter be carried off 
 under his eyes without defending her." 
 
 " Don Miguel 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 
 Seraphin. The missionary, aroused by 
 the unusual noise he heard in the haci 
 enda, 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, saddled a horse, and opening 
 a door, of which he had a key, so that 
 he could enter or leave the hacienda as 
 his duties required, he started at full 
 speed in the direction which he supposed 
 the hunters must follow in returning to 
 the hacienda. Unfortunately, Father 
 Seraphin had been unable to effect his 
 flight unheard by the squatter's prac 
 tised ear. 
 
 "Maledic'ion !" Red Cedar shouted, 
 as he rushed, rifle in hand, toward a 
 window, which he dashed out with his 
 fist, " 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 
 slain in front of the squatter, who 
 apidly shouldered his rifle and fired. 
 Then he went out : a stifled cry reached 
 lis ear, but the person the bandit had 
 ired 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 pur 
 suit of the fugitive. 
 
 Father Seraphin had fallen in a faint- 
 ng condition at Valentine's feet. 
 
94 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " Good heavens !" the hunter ex 
 claimed 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 shoul 
 der fractured, and the blood po.ured in 
 a stream from the wound. The hunter 
 looked around him; but at this mo 
 ment a confused sound could be heard 
 like the rolling of distant thunder. 
 
 " We must fall like brave men, Don 
 Pablo, that is all," he said sharply. 
 
 " Be at your ease," the young man 
 answered coldly. 
 
 Dona Clara was pale and trembling. 
 
 " Come," Valentine said. 
 
 And, with a movement rapid as 
 thought, he bounded on to the mission 
 ary's horse. The three fugitives start 
 ed at full speed. The 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, gliding like a 
 serpent through the long grass that con 
 cealed him, and stopping at intervals to 
 look around him, and listen attentively 
 to the sounds of the desert. Suddenly 
 he rushed towards his companions, seiz 
 ed the horses by the bridle, and drag 
 ged them behind a mound, where they 
 remained concealed, breathless and un 
 able lo 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 min 
 utes : their pursuers were going fur 
 ther 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 
 started again, not in the direction of the 
 hacienda, but in that of the Paso. 
 
 " Loosen your bridles," the hunter 
 said : " more still we are not mov 
 ing." 
 
 Suddenly a loud neigh was borne on 
 the breeze to the ears of the fuiritives. 
 
 " We are lost !" Valentine muttered. 
 "They have found our trail." 
 
 Red Cedar was too old a hand on the 
 prairie to be long thrown out : he soon 
 perceived that he was mistaken, and 
 was now turning back, quite certain 
 this time of holding the tra 1. Then 
 began one of those fabulous races which 
 only the dwellers on the prairie can wit 
 ness races which intoxicate and cause 
 a giddiness, and which no obstacle is 
 powerful enough to stop or check, for 
 the object is success or death. The 
 bandits' half-wild horses, apparently 
 identifying themselves with the feroci 
 ous passions of their riders, glided 
 through the night with the rapidity of 
 the phantom steed in the German bal 
 lad, bounded over precipices, and rush 
 ed with prodigious speed. 
 
 At times a horseman rolled with his 
 steed from the top of a rock, and fell 
 into an abyss, uttering a yell of dis 
 tress ; 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 for 
 midable 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 nos 
 trils. 
 
 Dona Clara, with her hair untied and 
 floating in the breeze, with sparkling 
 eye and closely-pressed 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 to 
 gether." 
 
 " Yes " the maiden remarked. 
 
 Valentine shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " You are mad," he said. 
 
 All at once he started, for their pnr- 
 suers were rapidly approaching. 
 
 "Listen," he said. "Do you two 
 let yourselves be captured ; they will 
 not follow me, as they owe me no 
 grudge. I swear to you that if I remain 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 95 
 
 at liberty I will deliver you, even if 
 they hide you in the bowels of the 
 e-irth." 
 
 Without replying Don Pablo dis 
 mounted, and Valentine leaped on to 
 his horse. 
 
 " Hope for the best !" he shouted 
 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 surrounded 
 by the bandits. 
 
 " Surrender !" Red Cedar shouted 
 in a panting voice. 
 
 Don Pablo 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 j I am 
 avenged." 
 
 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 advice. 
 
 " It is all over," said Shaw. " Poor 
 devil ! he did not cling to life." 
 
 He returned his knife to his belt, 
 threw the supposed corpse on his shoul 
 ders, and dragged it into a ditch. At 
 the sight of her brother's body, whom 
 she supposed to be dead, Dona Clara 
 uttered a shriek of despair and fainted. 
 
 Red Cedar laid the maiden across 
 his saddle-bow, and the whole band, 
 starting at a gallop was soon lost in 
 the darkness. 
 
 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 proceed 
 ed toward the Paso, asking himself this 
 question, which he found it impossible 
 to answer : 
 
 " But why did not that man kill 
 me?" 
 
 A few paces from the village he per 
 ceived two men halting on the road, 
 and conversing with the greatest ani 
 mation. They hurriedly advanced to 
 ward him, and the young man uttered 
 a cry of surprise on recognising them. 
 
 They were Valentine and Curumilla. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE REVOLT. 
 
 DON MIGUEL ZARATE had marched 
 rapidly on the Paso, and an hour after 
 leaving Valentine he saw flashing in 
 the distance the lights that shone in the 
 village windows. The greatest calm 
 ness prevailed in the vicinity ; only at 
 times could be heard the barking of the 
 dogs baying at the moon, or the, savage 
 miawling of the wild cats hidden in the 
 shrubs. At about one hundred yards 
 from the village a man suddenly rose 
 before the small party. 
 
 " Who goes there ?" he shouted. 
 
 " Mejico y independencia" the haci- 
 endero answered. 
 
 "Que genie ?" the stranger continued. 
 
 " Don Miguel Zarate." 
 
 At these words twenty men hidden 
 in the brushwood rose suddenly, and 
 throwing their rifles on their shoulders, 
 advanced to meet the horsemen. They 
 were the hunters commanded by Curu 
 milla, who, by Valentine's orders, were 
 awaiting the haciendero's arrival to join 
 him. 
 
 " Well," Don Miguel asked the chief, 
 " is there anything new ?" 
 
 Curumilla shook his head. 
 
 " Then we can advance ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What is the matter, chief? Have 
 you seen anything alarming?" 
 
 "No; and yet^I have a feeling of 
 treachery." 
 
 " How so ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell you. Apparently 
 everything is as usual: still there is 
 something which is not so. Look you, 
 it is scarce ten o'clock : generally ab 
 that hour all the mesons are full, the 
 
96 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 ventas are crammed with gamblers and 
 drinkers, the streets flocked with pro- 
 menaders. This night there is nothing 
 of the sort: all is closed the town 
 seems abandoned. This tranquillity is 
 factitious. I am alarmed, for / hear 
 the silence. Take care." 
 
 Don Miguel was involuntarily struck 
 . by the chiefs remarks. He had known 
 Curumilla for a long time. He had 
 often seen him display in the most dan 
 gerous circumstances a coolness and 
 contempt for death beyond all praise : 
 hence some importance must be attached 
 to the apprehensions and anxiety of such 
 a man. The haciendero ordered his 
 party to halt, assembled his friends, and 
 held a council. All were of opinion 
 that, before venturing to advance fur 
 ther, 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 founded. 
 
 One of the hunters offered himself. 
 The conspirators concealed themselves 
 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 soubriquet of " Dog-face," 
 owing to his extraordinary likeness to 
 that animal. This name had stuck to 
 the hunter, who, nolens volem, had been 
 compelled to accept it. He was short 
 and clumsy, but endowed with marvel 
 lous strength ; and we may say at once 
 that he was an emissary of Red Cedar, 
 and had only joined the hunters in order 
 to betray them. 
 
 When he left the conspirators he pro 
 ceeded toward the village whistling. 
 He had scarce taken a dozen steps into 
 the first street ere a door opened, and a 
 man appeared. This man stepped for 
 ward and addressed the hunter. 
 
 " You whistle very late, my friend." 
 
 " A 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 hur 
 ried back along the road he had tra 
 versed. 
 
 Red Cedar, who wished before all to 
 avenge himself on Don Miguel Zarate, 
 
 had discovered, through Fray Ambro- 
 sio, the conspirators' new plan. With 
 out loss of time he had taken his mea 
 sures in consequence, and had managed 
 so well that, although the general, the 
 governor, and the criminal judge were 
 prisoners, Don Miguel must succumb 
 in the contest he was preparing to pro 
 voke. 
 
 Fray Ambrosio, to his other quali 
 ties, joined that of being a listener at 
 doors. In spite of the distrust which 
 his patron was beginning to display to 
 ward him on Valentine's recommenda 
 tion, he had surprised a conversation 
 between Don Miguel and General 
 Ibanez. This conversation, immediate 
 ly reported to Red Cedar, who, accord 
 ing to his usual custom, had appeared 
 to attach no importance to it, had been 
 sufficient, however, to make the squat- 
 er 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 answer 
 ed ; " the inhabitants have retired to 
 their houses, and everybody is asleep." 
 
 " You noticed nothing of a suspicious 
 nature?" 
 
 " 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 
 promenade." 
 
 On this assurance the conspirators 
 regained their courage, Curumilla was 
 treated as a visionary, and the order 
 was given to advance. Still Dog face's 
 report, far from dissipating the Indian 
 chiefs doubts, had produced the con 
 trary effect, and considerably augment 
 ed them. Saying nothing, he placed 
 himself by the hunter's side, with the 
 secret intention of watching him 
 closely. 
 
 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 circum 
 stances nothing appeared to be easier. 
 Don Miguel and his band entered the 
 Paso, and nothing occurred to arouse 
 their suspicions. It resembled that 
 
TIIE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 town in the " Arabian Nights," in which 
 all the inhabitants, struck by the wand 
 of the wicked enchanter, sleep an eter 
 nal sleep. The conspirators advanced 
 into the town with their rifle barrels 
 thrust forward, with eye and ear on the 
 watch, and ready to fire at the slightest 
 alarm ; but nothing stirred. As Cur- 
 umilla had observed, the town was too 
 quiet. This tranquillity hid something 
 extraordinary, and must conceal the 
 tempest. In spite of himself Don Mi 
 guel felt a secret apprehension which he 
 could not master. 
 
 To our European eyes Don Miguel 
 will perhaps appear a poor conspirator, 
 without foresight or any great connec 
 tion in his ideas. From our point of 
 view that is possible ; but in a country 
 like Mexico, which counts its revolu 
 tions by hundreds, and where pronun- 
 ciamentos take place, in most cases, 
 without sense or reason^ because a col 
 onel wishes to become a general, or a 
 lieutenant a captain, things are not re 
 garded so closely ; and the haciendero, 
 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 on 
 wards, even if they succumbed in the 
 struggle. 
 
 All these considerations had been 
 fully weighed by Don Miguel ; and he 
 had not given the signal till he was driven 
 into his last intrenchments, and con 
 vinced that there was no way of escape 
 left him. Was it not a thousand fold 
 better to die bravely with arms in their 
 hands, in support of a just cause, than 
 wait to be arrested without having 
 made an attempt to succeed ? Don 
 Miguel had sacrificed his life, and no 
 more could be expected of him. 
 
 In the mean while the conspirators 
 advanced. They had nearly reached 
 the heart of the town ; they were at 
 this moment in a little, dirty, and nar 
 row street, called the Calle de San Isi- 
 dro, which opens out on the Plaza 
 Mayor, when suddenly a dazzling light 
 illumined the darkness ; 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 shout 
 ed 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 reso 
 lutely responded. 
 
 Curumilla with the butt of his rifle 
 beat in the door of the nearest house, 
 and rushed in, the conspirators follow 
 ing him. They were soon intrenched 
 on the roof. In Mexico all the houses 
 have flat roofs, formed like terraces. 
 Thanks to the Indian chiefs idea, the 
 rebels found themselves in possession 
 of an improvised fortress, where they 
 could defend themselves for a long 
 time, and sell their lives dearly. 
 
 The troops advanced from each end 
 of the street, while the roots 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 moment General 
 Guerrero, who commanded the troops, 
 bade them halt, and advanced alone to 
 the house on the top of which the con 
 spirators were intrenched. Don Mi 
 guel beat up the guns of his comrades, 
 who aimed at the officer. 
 
 " Wait," he said to them ; and, ad 
 dressing the general, "What do you 
 want ?" 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. 
 
 " I offer you life and liberty if you 
 consent to surrenderyour leader,"he said . 
 
 " Never !" the conspirators shouted 
 in one voice. 
 
 " It is my place to answer," Don Mi 
 guel said ; and then turning to the gen 
 eral, " What assurance do you give me 
 that these conditions will be honorably 
 carried out ?" 
 
98 
 
 THE TKATL-HUNTER. 
 
 " My word of honor as a soldier," 
 the general answered. 
 
 " Very good," Don Miguel went on ; 
 fi I accept. All the men who accompa 
 ny me will leave the town one after the 
 other." 
 
 "No, we will not !" the conspirators 
 shouted as they brandished their wea 
 pons ; " we would sooner die." 
 
 " Silence !" the haciendero said in a 
 loud voice. " 1 alone have the right 
 to speak here, for I am your chief. 
 The life of brave men like you must 
 not be needlessly sacrificed. Go, I 
 say ; I order you I implore it of 
 you," he added with tears in his voice. 
 " Perhaps you will soon take your 
 revenge." 
 
 The conspirators hung their heads 
 mournfully. 
 
 " Well ?" the general asked. 
 
 " My friends, accept. I will remain 
 alone here. If you break your word I 
 will kill myself." 
 
 " I repeat that you hold my word," 
 the general answered. 
 
 The conspirators came one after the 
 other to embrace Don Miguel, and then 
 went down into the street without be 
 ing in any way interfered with. Things 
 happen thus in this country, where con 
 spiracies and revolutions are on the 
 order of the day, as it were'. The de 
 feated are spared as far as possible, 
 from the simple reason that the victors 
 may find themselves to-morrow fighting 
 side by side with them for the same 
 cause. 
 
 Curumilla was the last to depart. 
 
 " AH 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, " 1 leave my daughter to Valen 
 tine, Father Seraphin, and yourself. 
 Watch over her; the poor child will 
 soon have no father." 
 
 Curumilla embraced Don Miguel si 
 lently and retired ; he had soon disap 
 peared 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 a sign to mount the horse a soldier 
 had brought up. 
 
 " Where are we going?" the hacien 
 dero said. 
 
 "To Santa Fe," the general answer 
 ed, " where you will be tried with Gen 
 eral Ibanez, who will doubtless soon be 
 a prisoner like yourself." 
 
 " Oh !" Don Miguel muttered thought 
 fully, " who betrayed us this time ?" 
 
 " It was still lied Cedar," the general 
 answered. 
 
 The haciendero let his head sink on 
 his chest, and remained silent. A quar 
 ter of an hour later the prisoner left 
 the Paso del Norte, escorted by a regi 
 ment of dragoons. When the last 
 trooper had disappeared in the wind 
 ings of the road three men left the 
 shrubs that concealed them, and stood 
 like three phantoms in the midst of the 
 desolate plain. 
 
 " O heavens !" Don Pablo cried in a 
 heart-rending voice, " my father, my 
 sister who will restore them to me ? ' 
 
 " 1 !" Valentine said in a grave voice, 
 as he laid his hand on his shoulder. 
 " Am I not the TRAIL-HUNTER?" 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 EL KANCHO DEL COYOTE. 
 
 ABOUT a month after the events we 
 have described in the first part of this 
 veracious history, two horsemen, well 
 mounted, and carefully enwrapped in 
 their cloaks, entered at a smart trot the 
 town of Santa Fe between three and 
 four o'clock in the afternoon. 
 
 Santa Fe, the capital of New Mexico, 
 is a pretty town, built in the midst of a 
 laughing and fertile plain. One of its 
 sides occupies 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 by stakes in the form of pali 
 sades ; and like the majority of towns 
 in Spanish America, the houses, built 
 only one story high in consequence of 
 the earthquakes, are covered with ter 
 races of well-beaten earth, called azoteas, 
 which are a sufficient protection in this 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 99 
 
 glorious climate, where the sky is con 
 stantly pure. 
 
 In the time of the Castilian rule 
 Santa Fe enjoyed a certain importance, 
 owing to its strategic position, which 
 allowed an easy defence against the in 
 cursions of the Indians ; but since the 
 emancipation of Mexico this city, like 
 sll the other centres of population in 
 his unhappy country, has seen its 
 plendor vanish for ever, and despite 
 the fertility of its soil and the magni 
 ficence of its climate, it has entered intc 
 such a state of decadence that the day 
 is at hand when it will be only an unin 
 habited ruin. In a word, this city, 
 which fifty years back contained more 
 than ten thousand inhabitants, has now 
 scarcely three thousand, eaten up by 
 fevers and the utmost wretchedness. 
 
 Still during the last few weeks Santa 
 Fe had appeared to emerge, as if by 
 magic from the lethargy into which it 
 is ordinarily plunged ; a certain degree 
 of animation prevailed in its usually 
 deserted streets ; in short, a new life 
 circulated in the veins of this popula 
 tion, to whom, however, all must appear 
 a matter of indifference. The fact was 
 that an event of immense importance 
 had recently taken place in this town. 
 The two leaders of the conspiracy late 
 ly attempted had been transferred to 
 safe keeping at Santa Fe. 
 
 The Mexicans, ordinarily so slow 
 when justice 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-mar 
 tial, hurriedly convened, had assembled 
 under the presidency of the governor, 
 and the two conspirators were unani 
 mously condemned to be shot. 
 
 The haciendero, through his name 
 and his position, and especially on ac 
 count of his fortune, had numerous par 
 tisans in the province : hence the an 
 nouncement of the verdict had caused a 
 profound stupor, which almost imme 
 diately changed into anger, among the 
 rich land-owners and the Indians of 
 New Mexico. A dull agitation prevail 
 ed 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 temporising, 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 con 
 demned men, whom the governor had 
 not yet dared to place in capUla, were 
 still provisionally- detained in the pri 
 son. 
 
 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 en 
 joying his siesta, and proceeded toward 
 an unpretending rancho, 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, 
 addressing his comrade, " was I not 
 rigi.t? You 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 watch 
 ing to see what does not concern him, 
 and report it after his fashion." 
 
 " That is possible," the first said, 4 
 shrugging his shoulders disdainfully. 
 ' I care about it as little as I do for a 
 itring-halt horse." 
 
 " And 1, too," the other said sharply. 
 " Do you imagine that I care more 
 than you do for the gossips ? But stay ; 
 [ fancy we have reached the rancho of 
 Andres Garote. This must be the filthy 
 tenement, unless I am mistaken." 
 
 " It is the house. I only hope the 
 scamp has not forgotten the meeting I 
 gave him. Wait a minute, senor 
 Dadre ; 1 will give the agreed-on signal." 
 " It is not worth while, Red Cedar. 
 You know that I am always at your 
 sxcellency's orders when you may please 
 o give them," a mocking voice said 
 Tom inside the rancho, the door of 
 which immediately opened to give ad 
 mission to the new-comers, and allowed 
 a glimpse of the tall figure and intelli 
 ent face of Andres Garote himself. 
 
 " Ave Maria purissima !" the travel 
 ers said, as they dismounted and en 
 tered the rancho. 
 
 " Sin peccado concebida !" Andres 
 
100 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 replied, as he took the bridles of the 
 horses and led them to the corral, where 
 he unsaddled them and gave each a 
 truss of alfalfa. 
 
 The travellers, fatigued by a long 
 journey, sat down on butaccas arranged 
 against the wall, and awaited the host's 
 return, while wiping their dank fore 
 heads and twisting a maize cigarette 
 between their fingers. 
 
 The room in which they were had 
 nothing extremely attractive about it. 
 It was a large chamber with two win 
 dows, protected by iron bars, the greasy 
 panes allowing but a doubtful light to 
 pass. The naked and smoky walls 
 were covered with clumsily-painted pic 
 tures, representing various holy objects. 
 The furniture only consisted of three or 
 four halting tables, the same number 
 of benches, and a few butaccas, the 
 torn and harsh leather of which evinced 
 lengthened use. As for the floor, it 
 was merely of beaten earth, but ren 
 dered 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 their provender. 
 
 " I did not expect you yet," he said 
 as he entered ; " but you are welcome. 
 Is there anything new ?" 
 
 " My faith, I know nothing but the 
 affair that brings us. It is rather se 
 rious, I fancy, and prevents us attend 
 ing to anything else," Red Cedar re 
 marked. 
 
 " Caspita ! what vivacity, compa- 
 dre !" Andres exclaimed. " But, be 
 fore talking, I hope you will take some 
 refreshment at any rale. There is no 
 thing like a cup of mezcal or pulque 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." 
 
 "Cuerpode Dios!" Andres said as he 
 went to look for a bottle among several 
 others arranged on a sort of bar, and 
 placed it before the travelers. " Pay 
 attention to that, senor padre ; for it is 
 serious, and you run a risk of death, 
 car air 
 
 " Give me the remedy, then, chatter 
 er," the monk replied as he held out his 
 glass. 
 
 The mezcal, liberally poured out, 
 was swallowed at a draught by the 
 three men, who put back their glasses 
 on the table with a " hum" of satisfac 
 tion, and that clinking of the tongue pe 
 culiar to topers when they are swallow 
 ing anything that tickles the throat. 
 
 " And now suppose we talk serious 
 ly," Red Cedar said. 
 
 " At your orders, senores caballeros," 
 Andres replied. "Still, if you prefer a 
 hand at monte, you know that I have 
 cards at your service." 
 
 " Presently, Senor Andres, presently. 
 Everything will have its turn. Let us 
 first settle our little business," Fray 
 Ambrosio judiciously observed. 
 
 Andres Garote bowed his head in re 
 signation, while thrusting back into his 
 pocket the pack of cards he had already 
 half drawn out. The three men made 
 themselves as comfortable as they 
 could, and Red Cedar, after casting a 
 suspicious glance around him, at length 
 took the word. 
 
 " You know, caballeros," he said, 
 " how, when we thought we had noth 
 ing to do but proceed straight to Apa- 
 cheria, the sudden desertion of nearly 
 all our gambusinos checked us. The 
 position was most critical for us, and 
 the abduction of Dona Clara compelled 
 us to take the utmost precautions." 
 
 "That is true," Andres Garote ob 
 served with an air of conviction. 
 
 " Althuugh certain influential persons 
 protect us under the rose," Red Cedar 
 continued, " we are compelled to keep 
 in the shade as far as we can. I there 
 fore sought to remedy the gravest 
 points in the business. In the first 
 place, the girl was hidden in an inacces 
 sible retreat, and then I began looking 
 for comrades to take the place of those 
 who abandoned us so suddenly." 
 
 " Well ?" the two men interrupted 
 him sharply. 
 
 " At this moment," Red Cedar calm 
 ly continued, " when the placers of 
 California call away all the men belong 
 ing to the profession, it was certainly no 
 easy task to collect one hundred men of 
 the sort we want, the more so as we 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 101 
 
 shall have to fight the Indies Bravos in 
 our expedition. I did not care to enlist 
 novices, who at the sight of the first 
 Apache or Comanche savages, would 
 bolt in terror, and leave us in the lurch 
 on 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 Ambro- 
 sio asked, " that you have not spoken 
 about the placer to your men ]" 
 
 " Do y ou take me for a fool ? No, 
 padre," the squatter answered sharply, 
 " no, no. A hundred thousand reasons 
 urge us to be prudent, and keep the ex 
 pedition secret. In the first place, I do 
 not wish to make the fortune of the 
 Government while making our own. 
 An indiscretion would ruin us now, 
 when the whole world only dreams of 
 mines and placers, 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 as 
 sembled the finest collection of picaros 
 ever brought together for an expedi 
 tion, 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 slightest scruples, or, as is even 
 more probable, assassinate us to gain 
 possession of the immense treasures we 
 covet." 
 
 " Nothing can be more just," Fray 
 Ambrosio answered. " I am quite of 
 your opinion, Red Cedar. Now what 
 have you resolved on 1 ?" 
 
 " 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 already delayed our start 
 too long 1 Perhaps one of those Euro 
 
 pean 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 busi 
 ness has been well managed." 
 
 " For that reason," Red Cedar has 
 tened to add, " I only suggest a doubt 
 nothing more." 
 
 " Come, Red Cedar," the monk said, 
 " you have yourself narrated all the 
 embarrassments of our position, and 
 the countless 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, senor pa 
 dre. Be good enough to explain your 
 self more clearly." 
 
 " I allude to the young girl you car 
 ried off." 
 
 "Ah, ah!" Red Cedar said with a 
 grin, " is that where the shoe pinches 
 you, comrade 1 I am vexed at it ; but 
 I will not answer your question. If I 
 carried off that woman, it was because 
 I had pressing reasons to do so. These 
 reasons still exist ; that is all I can tell 
 you. All the better if these explana 
 tions are sufficient for you ; if not, you 
 must put up with them, for you will 
 get no others." 
 
 " Still it appears to me that, regard 
 ing the terms on which we stand to 
 each other " 
 
 " What can there be in common be 
 tween the abduction of Dona Clara and 
 the discovery of a placer in the heart 
 of Apacheria ? Come, you are mad, 
 Fray Ambrosio ; the mezcal 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: 
 
102 
 
 THE TRAIL HUNTER. 
 
 " hesitation or refusal might give an 
 alarm. We must foresee everything." 
 Red Cedar consented with a toss of 
 his head, and the ranchero went with 
 an ill grace toward the door, which was 
 being struck as if about to be beaten in. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE CUCHILLADA. 
 
 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, en 
 tered the room, making the Indian chief 
 a sign to follow him. The latter was 
 evidently a Mexican. 
 
 "Santas tardes !" he said as he raised 
 his hand to his hat, but not removing it. 
 
 " Dios las de a usted buenas !" the 
 ranchero answered. " What shall I 
 serve to your excellencies ?" 
 
 " A bottle of mezcal," the stranger 
 said. 
 
 The new-comers seated themselves 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 
 persons near him. 
 
 CJrumilla crossed his arms on his 
 chest, half closed his eyes, and remained 
 motionless. 
 
 Still the arrival of these two men, es 
 pecially the presence of the stranger, 
 had suddenly 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 occur. At 
 length Red Cedar, doubtless more im 
 patient than his comrades, and wishful 
 to know at once what he had to expect, 
 rose, filled his glass, and turned toward 
 the strangers. 
 
 " Senores caballeros," he said, imita 
 ting that exquisite politeness which the 
 Mexicans possess in the highest degree, 
 
 " I have the honor of drinking to vour 
 health." 
 
 At tins invitation Curumilla remained 
 insensible as a granite statue : his com 
 panion slowly raised his head, fixed his 
 eye for a moment on the speaker, and 
 answered in a loud and firm voice : 
 
 " It is needless, senor, for I shall not 
 drink to yours. What 1 say to you," 
 he added, laying a stress on the words, 
 " your friends can also take for them 
 selves 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 con 
 tinued in a cutting voice. " Remember 
 this, senor padre 1 do not wish to have 
 any dealings with you." 
 
 " W T hy so r 
 
 " Because I do not please that is all. 
 Now, gentlemen, do not trouble your-' 
 selves about me, I beg, but continue 
 your conversation : it was most in 
 teresting when I arrived. You were 
 speaking, 1 believe, about an expedition 
 you are preparing : there was a ques 
 tion 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. 1 should, on the contrary, 
 be delighted to learn what you intend 
 doing with that unhappy creature." 
 
 No words could render the feeling of 
 stupor and terror which seized on the 
 three partners at this crushing revela 
 tion of their plans. When they fancied 
 they had completely concealed them by 
 their cunning and skill, to see them thus 
 suddenly unveiled in all their extent by 
 a man whom they did not know, but 
 who knew them, and in consequence 
 could only be ah enemy this terrified 
 them to such a degree that for a mo 
 ment they fancied they had to do with 
 the spirit of evil. 
 
 The two Mexicans crossed themselves 
 simultaneously, while the American 
 uttered a hoarse exclamation of rage. 
 
 But Red Cedar and Fray Ambrosio 
 were men too hardened in iniquity for 
 any event, however grave hviis nature, 
 to crush them for long. The first mo- 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 103 
 
 ment past, they recovered themselves, 
 and amazement gave way to fury. The 
 monk drew from his vaquera boot a 
 knife, and posted himself before the 
 door to prevent egress ; while Bed 
 Cedar, with frowning brow and a ma 
 chete in his hand, advanced resolutely 
 toward the table, behind which their 
 bold adversary, standing with folded 
 arms, seemed to defy them by his ironi 
 cal smile. 
 
 " Whoever you may be," Red Cedar 
 said, stopping two paces from his op 
 ponent, " 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 howl 
 ed furiously, " If you do not wish me 
 to assassinate you ; for, con mtidiablos! 
 I shall not hesitate, I warn you." 
 
 " I know it," the stranger replied 
 quietly. " I shall not be the first per- 
 -son to whom that has happened: the 
 Sierra Mad re and El Bolson de Mapimi 
 have often heard the agonising cries of 
 your victims, when Indians were want 
 ing to fill up your number of scalps." 
 
 At this allusion to his frightful trade 
 the squatter felt a livid pallor cover his 
 face, a tremor agitated all his limbs, 
 and he yelled in a choking voice : 
 
 " You lie ! I am a hunter." 
 
 " Of scalps," the stranger immediate 
 ly 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 
 indescribable burst of fury, " he is a 
 coward who hides his face while utter 
 ing such words." 
 
 The stranger shrugged his shoulders 
 contemptuously, and let the folds of 
 his mantle fall sharply. 
 
 " Do you recognise me, Red Cedar, 
 since your conscience has not yet whis 
 pered my name to you?" 
 
 " Oh !" the three men exclaimed in 
 horror, and instinctively recoiling 
 " Don Pablo de Zarate !" 
 
 " 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 extraor 
 dinary agitation : with eyes dilated by 
 terror, and contracted features, he felt 
 the cold perspiration beading on his 
 temples at this unexpected apparition. 
 
 " Ah !" he said in a hollow voice, 
 "do the dead, then, leave the tomb ?" 
 
 " Yes," the young man shouted loud 
 ly, " they leave their tomb to tear your 
 victims from you. Red Cedar, restore 
 me my sister !" 
 
 The squatter leaped like a hyena on 
 the young man, brandishing his machete. 
 
 " Dog !" he yelled, " I will kill you a 
 second time." 
 
 But his wrist was suddenly seized by 
 a hand of iron, and the bandit tottered 
 back to the wall of the rancho, 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 piace before him, had thought the 
 moment for interference had arrived, 
 aiii'l had sharply hurled him back. 
 
 The squatter, with eyes injected with 
 blood, and lips clenched by rage, looked 
 around him with glaring worthy of a 
 wild beast. 
 
 Fray Ambrosio and the ranchero, 
 held in check by the Indian chief, did 
 not dare to interfere. 
 
 Don Pablo walked with 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 meanwhile the monk and the 
 ranchero had treacherously approached 
 the young man, watching for the propi 
 tious moment to fall on him. The five 
 men assembled in this room offered a 
 strange and sinister scene by the uncer 
 tain light that filtered through the win 
 dows, as each stood with his hand on 
 his weapon, ready to kill or be killed, 
 and only awaiting the opportunity to 
 rush on his enemy. 
 
 There was a moment of supreme si 
 lence. 
 
104 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 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. I have asked you for my 
 sister several times, and you have not 
 answered ; so take care." 
 
 " I will sell your sister to the Apa 
 ches !'' the squatter howled. " As for 
 you, accursed one, you shall not leave 
 this room alive. May I be eternally 
 condemned if your heart does not serve 
 as a sheath to my knife !" 
 
 "The scoundrel is mad !" the young 
 man said contemptuously. 
 
 He fell back a pace, and then stopped. 
 
 " Listen," he continued. " I will 
 now retire, but we shall meet again ; 
 and woe to you then, 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 regained all his boldness and impu 
 dence. " Did I not tell you I would 
 kill you?" 
 
 The young man fixed upon him a 
 glance of undefinable 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's head, 
 who, blinded by the folds of the thick 
 garment, rolled about on the ground, 
 unable 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 Cedar, 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, twisted 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 be 
 trayed my father, who took pity on 
 you, and received you into his house. 
 You dishonor the gown 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 
 garotte which awaits you. This gown, 
 of which you are unworthy, saves your 
 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 livid face, he made two 
 gashes in the shape of a cross along the 
 whole lensth and breadth of his face. 
 
 " We shall meet again!" he added in 
 a thundering voice, as he threw the 
 knife away in disgust. 
 
 Andres Garote had not dared to 
 make a move : terror nailed him mo 
 tionless to the ground beneath the im 
 placable eye of the Indian warrior. 
 
 Don Pablo and Curumilla then rush 
 ed from the room and disappeared, and 
 ere long the hoofs of two horses de 
 parting at full speed from the town 
 could be heard clattering over the pave 
 ment. 
 
 By the aid of the ranchero, Red 
 Cedar presently succeeded in freeing 
 himself from the fold of the cloak that 
 embarrassed him. When the three 
 accomplices found themselves alone 
 again an expression of impotent rage 
 and deadly hatred distorted their faces. 
 
 " Oh !" the squatter muttered, grind 
 ing his teeth, and raising his fist to 
 heaven, "I will be revenged." 
 
 " And I too," said Fray Ambrosio in 
 a hollow voicef as he wiped away the 
 blood that stained his face. 
 
 " Hum ! I do not care," Andres Ga 
 rote said to himself aside. " That fam 
 ily of the Zarates is a fine one ; but, 
 carai I it must be confessed that Don 
 Pablo is a rough fellow." 
 
 The worthy ranchero was the only 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 105 
 
 one chance had favored in this meeting 
 by letting him escape safe and sound. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE HUNTERS. 
 
 AT about two leagues from Santa Fe, 
 in a clearing situated on the banks of 
 the stream which borders that town, and 
 on the evening of the same day, a man 
 was seated before a large fire, which he 
 carefully kept up, while actively en 
 gaged in making preparations for sup 
 per. A frugal meal, at any rate, this 
 supper ! It was composed of a buffalo 
 hump, a few potatoes, and maize tortil 
 las baked on the ashes, the whole wash 
 ed 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 it 
 self 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 coyo 
 tes and the howls of the pumas and 
 jaguars. 
 
 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 ex 
 clamation of joy, and hurried to meet 
 them. 
 
 They were Don Pablo and Curum- 
 illa. 
 
 " Heaven be praised !" the hunter 
 said. " Here you are at last. I was 
 beginning to grow alarmed at your long 
 absence." 
 
 " You see that nothing has happened 
 to me," the young man answered, affec 
 tionately pressing the hunter's hands. 
 
 Don Pablo had dismounted, and hob 
 bled his own horse and Curumilla's 
 near Valentine, while the Indian chief 
 busied himself in preparing the supper. 
 
 " Come, come," the hunter said gaily, 
 
 " to table. You must be hungry, and I 
 am dying of inanition. You can tell 
 me all that has occurred while we are 
 eating." 
 
 The three men went to the table ; 
 that is, they seated themselves on the 
 grass in front of the fire, and vigorous 
 ly assailed their meagre repast. Desert 
 life has this peculiarity that in what 
 ever position you may find yourself, as 
 the struggles you go through are gener 
 ally physical rather than moral, nature 
 never resigns her claims : you feel the 
 need of keeping up your strength, so as 
 to be ready for all eventualities. There 
 is no alarm great enough to prevent 
 you from eating and drinking. 
 
 " Now," Valentine asked presently, 
 " what have you done 1 I fancy you 
 remained much longer than was neces 
 sary in that accursed town." 
 
 " We did, my friend. Certain rea 
 sons forced me to remain longer than I 
 had at first intended." 
 
 " Proceed in regular order, if you 
 have no 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 Indian 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 con 
 verse without apprehension. What do 
 you say, Pablo ?" 
 
 " You are always right, my friend. 
 Your inexhaustible gaiety, your honest 
 iarelessness, restore me all my courage, 
 and make me quite a different man." 
 
 " Hum !" Valentine said, " I am 
 lad to hear you speak so. The posi 
 tion is serious, it is true ; but it is far 
 from being desperate. The chief and I 
 have many times been in situations 
 were our lives only depended on a 
 thread : and yet we always emerged 
 from them honorably did we not, 
 hief?" 
 
 " Yes," the Indian answered laconi 
 cally, drawing in a mouthful of smoke, 
 which he sent forth again from his 
 mouth and nostrils. 
 
 " But that is not the question of the 
 moment. I have sworn to save your 
 lather and sister, Pablo, and will do so, 
 or my carcass shall be food for the 
 
106 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER/ 
 
 wild beasts of the prairie ; so leave me 
 to act. Have you seen Father Sera- 
 phin ?" 
 
 " Yes, I have. Our poor friend is 
 still very weak and pale, and his wound 
 is scarce cicatrised. Still, paying no 
 heed to his sufferings, and deriving 
 strength from his unbounded 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 
 neglected nothing. Unfortunately all 
 his exertions have hitherto been fruit 
 less." 
 
 " Patience !" the hunter said with a 
 smile of singular meaning. 
 
 " Father iSeraphin believes for cer 
 tain that my father will be placed in 
 the capilla within two days. The gov 
 ernor wishes to have done with it 
 that is the expression he employed ; 
 and Father Seraphin told me that we 
 have not a moment to lose." 
 
 " Two days are a long time, my 
 friend ; before they have elapsed many 
 things may have occurred." 
 
 "That is true ; but my father's life 
 is at stake, and 1 feel timid." 
 
 " Good, Don Pablo ; I like to hear 
 you speak so. But reassure yourself; 
 all is going on well, I repeat." 
 
 "Still, my friend, I believe it would 
 be wise to take certain precautions. 
 Remember it is a question of life or 
 death, and we must make haste. How 
 many times, under similar circumstan 
 ces, have the best arranged plans failed! 
 Do you think that your measures 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 the 
 devil's own game, my friend," Valentine 
 answered culdly. " We have chance 
 on our side ; that is to say, the great 
 est 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 mix 
 ture of interest and tender pity, and 
 then continued in a soothing voice : 
 
 " Listen, Don Pablo de Zarate," he 
 said. " I have suid 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 ac 
 cepted that cowardly and shameful 
 flight. Your father shall leave his pri 
 son, but begged to do so by the gover 
 nor himself, and all the authorities of 
 Santa Fe. So regain your courage, 
 and no longer doubt a man whose 
 friendship and expi rience should, on the 
 contrary, restore your confidence." 
 
 The young man had listened to 
 these words with even increasing in 
 terest. When Valentine ceased speak 
 ing he seized his hand. 
 
 " Pardon me, my friend," he answer 
 ed him. " 1 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 ?" 
 
 " 1 cannot tell you, for I was so ob- 
 sorbed in thought that I saw nothing go 
 ing 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 1" he said. " And did you, 
 as I advised, try to gain any informa 
 tion 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 ut 
 most attention, and when it was finish 
 ed he tossed his head several times with 
 an air of dissatisfaction. 
 
 " All young people are so," he mut 
 tered : *' they always allow their pas 
 sion to carry them beyond the bounds 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 107 
 
 of reason. You were wrong, extreme 
 ly wrong, Don Pablo," he then added. 
 " Red Cedar believed you dead, and 
 that might have been of great use to us 
 presently. You do not know -the im 
 mense power that demon has at his dis 
 posal : all the bandits on the frontier 
 are devoted to him. Your outbreak 
 will be most injurious to your sister's 
 safety." 
 
 " Still, my friend " 
 
 " You acted like a madman in arous 
 ing the slumbering fury of the 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 ene 
 mies without saying a word in short, 
 seeing through their game by an un 
 pardonable act of bravado you have 
 unmasked all your batteries." 
 
 " I do not understand you, my 
 friend." 
 
 "Fray Ambrosio is a villain of a dif 
 ferent stamp from Red Cedar, it is 
 true ; but I consider him even a great 
 er scoundrel than the scalp-hunter. At 
 any rate, the latter is purely a rogue, 
 and you know what to expect 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 
 murder, I might possibly have pardon 
 ed you ; but you have completely fail 
 ed, not only in prudence, but in good 
 sense, by acting as you have done with 
 Fray Ambrosio. That man is a hypo 
 crite. He owes a,ll to your family, and 
 is furious at seeing this, treachery dis 
 covered. Take care, Don Pablo. You 
 have made at one blow two implacable 
 enemies, the more terrible now because 
 they have nothing to guard against." 
 
 " It is true," the young man said ; 
 "I acted like a fool. But what would 
 you ? At the sight of those two men, 
 when 1 heard from their very lips the 
 crimes they had committed, and those 
 they still meditate against us, I was no 
 longer master of myself. 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 his face will cost you dearly 
 some day." 
 
 " Well, let us leave it in the hand of 
 Heaven. You know the proverb, ' It 
 is better to forget what cannot be reme 
 died.' Provided my father escape the 
 fate that menaces him, I shall be happy. 
 I shall take my precautions to defend 
 myself." 
 
 " Did you learn nothing further ?" 
 
 " Yes ; Red Cedar's gambusinos are 
 encamped a short distance from us. I 
 know that their chief intends starting 
 to-morrow at the latest." 
 
 " Oh, oh ! already ? We must make 
 haste and prepare our ambuscad<>, if we 
 wish to discover the road thev mean to 
 follow." 
 
 " When shall we start ?" 
 
 " At once." 
 
 The three men made their prepara 
 tions ; the horses were saddled, the 
 small skins the horseman always car 
 ries at his saddle-bow in these dry 
 countries were filled with water, and 
 five minutes later the hunters mounted. 
 At the moment they were leaving the 
 clearing a rustling of leaves was heard, 
 the branches parted, and an Indian ap 
 peared. 
 
 It was Unicorn, the great sachem of 
 the Comanches. 
 
 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 cere 
 mony Valentine went on : 
 
 " My father must approach the firp, 
 and smoke from the calumet of his 
 white friends." 
 
 " I will do so," Unicorn answered. 
 
 And drawing near the fire, he crouch 
 ed down in Indian fashion, took his pipe 
 from his belt, and smoked in silence. 
 
 The hunters, seeing the turn this un 
 expected interview was taking, had 
 fastened up their horses, and seated 
 themselves again round the fire. A few 
 
108 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 minutes passed thus, no one speaking 
 each waiting till the Indian chief shouk 
 explain the motive of his coming. A 
 length Unicorn shook the ashes from his 
 calumet, returned it to his belt, and ad 
 dressed Valentine. 
 
 " Is my brother setting out to hunt 
 buffaloes again ?" he said. " There are 
 many this year on the prairies of the 
 Rio Gil a." 
 
 " 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 
 misfortune happened to him 1 ?" 
 
 " Does not my brother understand 
 me, or arn I really mistaken? It is 
 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 an 
 swer him." 
 
 There was a moment of silence. 
 
 The Indian seemed to be reflecting 
 deeply : his nostrils were dilated, and 
 at times his black eye flashed fire. The 
 hunters 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 forked tongue. What a man cannot 
 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 de 
 ceive his expectations. The hunt I wish 
 to make is serious. I am anxious to 
 save a woman of my color ; but what 
 can the will of one man effect ?" 
 
 " Koutonepi is not alone : 1 see at his 
 side the best two rifles of the frontier. 
 VV hat does the white hunter tell me ? 
 Is he no longer the great warrior I 
 knew ? Does he doubt the friendship 
 of his brother Haboutzelze, 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 war 
 riors shall join him to deliver the virgin 
 of the palefaces, 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 your word 
 is sacred." 
 
 " 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 
 will deliver to him the gachupino rob 
 bers." 
 
 " 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 Co 
 manche chief withdrew without adding 
 a word. 
 
 " Don Pablo," Valentine exclaimed 
 joyously, "I can now guarantee your 
 father's safety : this night perhaps to 
 morrow he will be free." 
 
 Tlie young man fell into the hunter's 
 arms, and hid his head on his honest 
 chest, not having the strength to utter 
 a wo r. A few minutes later, the hun 
 ters left the clearing to go in search of 
 the gambusinos, and prepare their am 
 buscade. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 SUNBEAM. 
 
 WE will now go a little way back, in 
 order to clear up certain portions of the 
 onversation between Valentine and 
 Jnicorn, whose meaning the reader can 
 not have caught. 
 
 Only a few months after their arrival 
 n Apacheria the Frenchman and Curu- 
 tnilla were hunting the buffalo on the 
 >anks of the Rio Gila. It was a splen 
 did day in the month of July. 
 
 The two hunters, fatigued by a long 
 march under the beams of the parching 
 sun, that fell vertically on their heads, 
 lad sheltered themselves under a clump 
 of cedar-wood trees, and, carelessly 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 109 
 
 stretched out on the ground, were 
 smoking while waiting till the grea 
 heat had passed, and the evening breezi 
 rose to enable them to continue their 
 hunt. A quarter of elk was roasting 
 fur tlieir dinner. 
 
 " Eh, penni /" Valentine said, ad 
 dressing liis comrade, and risirfg on his 
 elbow, " the dinner seems to be ready ; 
 so suppose we feed ? The sun is rapidly 
 sinking behind the virgin 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, and indulging in cakes 
 of hautie. These cakes, which are very 
 good, are certainly curious. They are 
 made of the pounded eggs of a species 
 of water-bug, collected by a sort of har 
 vest in the Mexican lakes. They are 
 found on the leaves of the toule (bul 
 rush), and the farina is prepared in va 
 rious ways. Jt is an Aztec preparation 
 par excellence, for so long back as 1625 
 they were sold on the market-place of 
 the Mexican capital. They form the 
 .chief fuod of the Indians, who consider 
 tliem as great a dainty as the Chinese 
 do their swallow nests, with which this 
 article of food has a certain resemblance 
 in taste. 
 
 Valentine had taken a third bite at 
 his hautle cake when, he stopped, with 
 his arm raised and his head bent for 
 ward, as if an unusual sound had sud 
 denly smitten his ear. 
 
 Curumilla imitated his friend, and 
 both listened with that deep attention 
 that only results from a lengihened de 
 sert 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 repeat 
 ed. For a moment they fancied them 
 selves deceived, and Valentine took an 
 other bite, when he was again checked. 
 This time he had distinctly heard a 
 sound resembling a stifled sigh, but so 
 weak and hollow that it needed the 
 Trail-hunter's practised 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. 
 7. 
 
 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 sigh heard by Valentine had come, 
 and fortunately it was but a few paces 
 distant. So soon as the hunters had 
 leaped over the intervening bushes they 
 found themselves on the bank, and a 
 fearful sight presented itself to their 
 startled eyes. 
 
 A long plank was descending the 
 river, turning on its axis, and borne by 
 the current, which ran rather strongly 
 at this point. On this plank was fas 
 tened a woman, who held a child in her 
 clasped arms. Each time the plank 
 revolved the unhappy woman plunged 
 with her child into the stream, and at 
 ten yards at the most from it an enor 
 mous cayman was swimming vigorous 
 ly to snap at its two victims. 
 
 Valentine raised his rifle. 
 
 Curumilla at the same moment glid 
 ed into the water, holding his knife- 
 blade between his teeth, and swam to 
 ward the plank. 
 
 Valentine remained 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 mo 
 ment later, belly upwards. It was 
 dead. Valentine's bullet had passed 
 through its eye. 
 
 In the meanwhile 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 holding it so that 
 t could not revolve, he pushed it 01. to 
 the sand. In two strokes he cut the 
 jonds that held the hapless woman, 
 seized her in his arms, and ran off with 
 iar to the bivouac fire. 
 
 The poor woman gave no signs of 
 ife, and the two hunters eagerly sought 
 to restore her. She was an Indian, ap- 
 jarently not more than eighteen, and 
 very beautiful. 
 
 Valentine found great difficulty in 
 oosening her arms and removing the 
 jaby ; for the frail creature about a 
 
no 
 
 THE TRATL-HUXTER. 
 
 year old, by an incomprehensible mira 
 cle, had been preserved thanks, doubt 
 less to its mother's devotion. It smiled 
 pleasantly at the hunter when he laid 
 it 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 mez- 
 cal. 
 
 A long time elapsed ere she gave the 
 slightest move that indicated an ap 
 proaching return to life. The hunters, 
 however, would not be foiled by the ill- 
 success of their attentions, but redoub 
 led their efforts. At length a deep sigh 
 burst painfully from the sufferer's op 
 pressed chest, and she opened her eyes, 
 murmuring in a voice weak as a breath! 
 
 Xocoyotl (My child !") 
 
 The cry of the soul this first and 
 supreme appeal of a mother on the 
 verge of the tomb affected the two 
 men with their hearts of bronze. Val 
 entine cautiously lifted the child, which 
 had gone to sleep peacefully on the 
 leaves, and presented it to the mother, 
 saying in a soft voice : 
 
 "Nantlijoltinemi (Mother, he lives.)/" 
 
 At these words, which restored her 
 hope, the woman leaped up as if moved 
 by a spring, seized the child, and cover 
 ed it with kisses, as she burst into tears. 
 The hunters respected this outpouring of 
 maternal love : they withdrew, leavin^ 
 food and water by the woman's side. 
 
 At sunset the two men returned. 
 
 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 handiness 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,.aud addressed the young 
 woman. 
 
 "What is my sister's name?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Tonameyotl (the Sunbeam)," she 
 replied, with a joyous smile that reveal 
 ed the double row of pearls that adorn 
 ed her mouth. 
 
 "My sister has a pretty name," 
 Valentine answered. "She doubtless 
 belongs to the great nation of the Apa 
 ches f 
 
 " The Apaches are dogs," she said in 
 a hollow voice, and with a flash of 
 hatred in her glance. " The Comanche 
 women will weave them petticoats. 
 The Apaches are cowardly as the 
 coyotes: they only fight a hundred 
 against one. The Comanche warriors 
 are like the tempest." 
 
 " Is my sister the wife of a ca 
 cique]" 
 
 " 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, trappers, 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 
 sister will tell me where to find the vil 
 lage of her tribe, and I will lead her 
 back to the chief." 
 
 The young woman smiled. 
 
 " 1 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 Sunbeam." 
 
 " We will wait the chief here, then," 
 Valentine said. 
 
 The hunter felt great pleasure in con 
 versing with this simple child. 
 
 " How was my sister thus fastened 
 to the trunk of tree, and thrown into the 
 current of the Gila, to perish there 
 with her child? It is an atrocious ven 
 geance." 
 
 " Yes, it is the vengeance of an Apa 
 che 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 j but the 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 Ill 
 
 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 advantage of my slumber, seiz 
 ed me and my child, and delivered us 
 into the hands of Stanapat's daughter. 
 
 " ' You love your husband,' she said 
 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 tbe prairies 
 down the river, and in two hours you 
 will be in his arms, unless,'' she added 
 with a laugh, ' the caymans stop you 
 on the road.' 
 
 " ' The Comanche women despise 
 death,' 1 answered her. ' Jb"or 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 answer her no 
 more. 
 
 " She herself fastened me to the log, 
 with my face turned to the sky, in or 
 der, 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 de 
 spise. This is how I revenge myself.' 
 1 have told my brother, the pale hun 
 ter, everything as it happened." 
 
 " My sister is a brave woman," Val 
 entine replied : " she is worthy to be 
 the wife of a renowned chief. 
 
 The young mother smiled as she em 
 braced 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 mau- 
 kawis 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," 
 Valentine muttered suspiciously. 
 
 The Indian girl smiled as she looked 
 down, but gave no answer. Suddenly 
 a slight cracking of dry branches dis 
 turbed the silence. 
 
 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 mctlonless, 
 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 war, bounded like a jackal over the 
 grass and herbs that obstructed his pas 
 sage, and stopped in face of the hun 
 ters. This warrior was Unicorn. He 
 saluted the two men with that grace in 
 nate in the Indian race ; then he crossed 
 his arms on his breast and waiied, with 
 out 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 assembled in so strange a 
 way. At length Valentine, seeing the 
 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 
 (ire of his brothers, and share with them 
 the provisions they possess." 
 
 " I will take a seat by the fire of my 
 paleface brother," he replied ; " but he 
 must first answer me a question I w;sh 
 to ask of him." 
 
 " My brother can speak : my 3ars are ; 
 open." 
 
 " Good !" the chief answered. " How 
 is it the hunters have with them Uni 
 corn'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 : his face re 
 mained impassive, but his brows were 
 imperceptibly contracted. When the 
 woman had finished speaking, the Co- 
 manclie chief bowed his head on 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 ?" he 
 asked her. 
 
 The young woman's face lit up with 
 a charming smile. 
 
 " These hunters," she replied. 
 
112 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 "Good!" the chief said, laconically, 
 as he bent on the two men glances ful] 
 of the most unspeakable gratitude. 
 
 "Could we leave her to perish?" 
 Valentine 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 hun 
 ters" 
 
 These simple words were uttered 
 with the majesty and grandeur the In 
 dians know so well how to assume when 
 they think proper. 
 
 The two men vowed their gratitude, 
 and the chief continued : 
 
 " Unicom is returning to his village 
 with his wife : his young men are 
 awaiting him twenty paces from here. 
 He would be happy if the hunters would 
 consent to accompany him there." 
 
 "Chief," Valentine answered, "we 
 carne 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 breach of politeness, and the 
 hunters accepted the invitation. 
 
 Valentine, whom accident had brought 
 on 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 re 
 peatedly with a display of extraordi 
 nary tenderness, and then returned it to 
 the mother. 
 
 The latter wrapped the babe in a 
 small blanket, then placed it on 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 woollen strap passing over her fore 
 head. 
 
 " I am ready," she said. 
 " Let us go," the chief replied. 
 The hunters followed him, and they 
 were soon on the prairie. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE ADOPTION. 
 
 SOME sixty Comanche warriors were 
 lying in the grass awaiting their sachem, 
 while the tethered horses were nibblin" 1 
 
 O 
 
 the tall prairie grasses and the tree- 
 shoots. It could be seen at the first 
 glance that these men were picked war 
 riors, selected for a dangerous expedi 
 tion. From the heels of all dangled 
 five or six wolf tails marks of honor 
 which only renowned warriors have the 
 right to wear. 
 
 On seeing their chief, they hurriedly 
 rose and leaped into their saddles. All 
 were aware that their sachem's wife had 
 been carried off, and that the object of 
 their expedition was to deliver her. 
 Still, on noticing her, they evidenced 
 no surprise, but saluted her as if she 
 had left them only a few moments pre 
 viously. 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 
 reached the vicinity of the village, which 
 could be smelt some time before reach 
 ing, owing to the habit the Comanches 
 have of placing their dead on scaffold 
 ings outside the villages, where they 
 moulder away : these scaffoldings, com 
 posed 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 nurn 
 ber of horsemen were assembled, await 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER 
 
 113 
 
 ing the return of the sachem. So soon 
 as they perceived him they burst into a 
 formidable yell, and rushed forward like 
 a whirlwind, shouting, firing guns, and 
 brandishing their weapons. Unicorn's 
 band followed this example, and there 
 was soon a most extraordinary confu 
 sion. 
 
 The sachem made his entry into the 
 village in the midst of shouts, barking 
 of dogs, and shots; in short, he was 
 accompanied to the square by an inde 
 scribable row. On reaching it the war 
 riors stopped. 
 
 Unicorn begged the hunters to dis 
 mount, and guided 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 re 
 ject." 
 
 The two hunters, wearied by the long 
 ride they had made, fell back with ex 
 treme satisfaction on the beds of dried 
 leaves which awaited them. 
 
 " Well," Valentine asked Curumilla, 
 "penni, what do you say about what is 
 happening to us?" 
 
 " It may be good." 
 
 "Can it not?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 On whicli Curumilla 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 ?" 
 
 " Speak, chief; we are listening." 
 
 The Comanche sachem then squatted 
 near the fire, and remained tor several 
 minutes, 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 re 
 joice at your arrival among us; the 
 deer and the buffaloes fly at your ap 
 
 proach ; 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 pre 
 paring 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 grati 
 tude. He asked the Chief of Life what 
 he could do to attach you to him. Uni 
 corn is terrible in combat; he has the 
 heart of the grizzly bear for his enemies 
 he has the heart of the gazelte for those 
 he loves." 
 
 " Chief," Valentine answered, " the 
 words you utter at this moment amply 
 repay us for what we have done. 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 Coman 
 ches ; they are the brothers of our tribe. 
 During their sleep Unicorn assembled 
 round the council fire the chiefs of his 
 nation, anJ told them what has passed. 
 The chiefs have ranged themselves on 
 Unicorn's side, and have ordered him to 
 make known to the hunters the resolu 
 tion 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 
 chief's lips. 
 
 " Good !" he said. " This is what 
 was agreed on among the great chiefs. 
 My brothers the hunters will be adopt 
 ed by the tribe, and be henceforth sons 
 of the great Comanche nation. What 
 say my brothers ?" 
 
 A lively feeling of pleasure made 
 Valentine 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 indomitable 
 
114 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER 
 
 courage and the number of its warriors. 
 The hunter exchanged a glance with his 
 silent comrade and rose. 
 
 " 1 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 cubing 
 
 Valentine and Curumilla were ready, 
 and had long been acquainted with the 
 trials they would have to undergo. 
 
 The neophytes were conducted into 
 the great medicine hut, where a copious 
 meal was prepared. It consisted of 
 dog meat boiled in bear fat, tortillas, 
 maize, and hautle cakes. The chiefs 
 squ.-itted in a circle, while the squaws 
 waited on them. 
 
 When the meal was ended all rose. 
 
 Unicorn placed himself between the 
 hunters, laid his hands on their heads, 
 and struck up the great war-song. This 
 song was repeated in chorus by the com 
 pany to the sound of the war whistles, 
 the drums and the chikikoues. 
 
 The following is the translation of 
 the song : 
 
 ' Master of Life, regard us with a favorable eye. 
 \Ve are receiving two brothers in arms who appear to 
 
 have sense. 
 
 They display vigor in their arms. 
 I'hey fear not to expose their bodies to the blows of 
 
 their enemies." 
 
 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 ended 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 wampum 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 finish 
 ed 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 care 
 fully, left the neophytes in it. 
 
 The latter threw water on the stones, 
 and the steam which arose almost im 
 mediately produced a profuse perspira 
 tion. When this was at its height the 
 hunters ran outof 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, 
 then Unicorn traced on their chests 
 with a sharp stick dipped in water in 
 which gunpowder had been dissolved, 
 the figure of the animal serving as totem 
 (protector) to the tribe. Then with 
 two spikes fastened to a small piece of 
 wood, and dipped in vermillion, he pro 
 ceeded to prick the design. 
 
 Whenever Unicorn 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 vermillion 
 were rubbed in with powder, so that the 
 result was a red and blue tattooing. 
 During the course of this operation the 
 war-songs and chikikoues were constant 
 ly heard, in order to drown the cries 
 which the atrocious pain might draw 
 from the patients ; but the latter endur 
 ed it all without even a contraction of 
 the eyebrows evidencing the pain they 
 must have felt. 
 
 When the tattooing was over the 
 wounds were cauterised with rotten 
 wood to prevent suppuration ; they 
 were washed with cold water, in which 
 'had been infused a herb resembling box, 
 a great deal of which the Indians mix 
 with their tobacco to reduce the strength. 
 
 The trial we have described is so 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 115 
 
 painful to endure, that nearly always it 
 is only accomplished at intervals, and 
 often lasts a week. 
 
 This time the hunters endured it brave 
 ly during the six hours it lasted, not ut 
 tering a cry, or giving a sign of weak 
 ness. Hence the Indians, from this mo 
 inent, regarded them with a species of 
 respect ; 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, cha 
 sing the wild beasts, or pursuing the 
 Apache dogs." 
 
 " Good !" Valentine answered. 
 
 At one bound the two hunters were 
 in their saddles, and made their horses 
 perform the most elegant and graceful 
 cnrvets. This last and heroic deed, 
 after all they had suffered during the 
 course of the day, raised to their full 
 height the joy and enthusiasm of the 
 Comanches, who applauded with frenzied 
 shouts and yells all they saw their new 
 brothers execute. 
 
 After remaining nearly an hour on 
 horseback they dismounted, and follow 
 ed the chiefs into the medicine lodge ; 
 and when each had taken his seat round 
 the council fire, and the calumet had 
 again been smoke.d, Unicorn rose. 
 
 " The Master of Life loves His Com- 
 anche sons, since He gives them for 
 brothers such warriors as Koutonepi 
 and Curuinilla. 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 seeing 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. Henceforth 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 
 Quatihtli, and bear the name of that 
 eagle, whose courage and strength you 
 possess. You, Curumilla, will be call 
 ed Vexolotl, and the cock will be proud 
 
 to see that you have taken possession 
 of its name." 
 
 The two hunters warmly thanked 
 their new brothers, and were led back 
 by the chiefs to their cabin, who wi-hed 
 them a pleasant night after so rude a 
 day. 
 
 Such was the way in which Valentine 
 and Curumiila, to whom we shall con 
 tinue to give their old nani"s, formed 
 the acquaintance of Unicorn, and the 
 result of it. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE MISSIONARY. 
 
 WITH time the relations existing be 
 tween the hunters and the Indians were 
 drawn closer, and became more friend 
 ly. In the desert physical strength is 
 the quality most highly esteemed. 
 Man, compelled to struggle incessantly 
 against the dangers of every descrip 
 tion that rise each moment before him 
 is bound to look only to himself for the 
 means to surmount them. Hence the 
 Indians profess a profound contempt, 
 for sickly people, and weak and timid 
 nerves. 
 
 Valentine easily induced Unicorn to 
 seize, during the hunt of the wild 
 horses, the Mexican 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 arrested in the midst of his 
 triumph, at the very moment when he 
 fancied himself master of the Paso del 
 Norte. 
 
 After Valentine, Curumilla, and Don 
 Pablo had seen, from their hiding place 
 in the bushes, the mournful escort pass 
 that was taking Don Miguel as a prison 
 er to Santa Ye, they held a council. 
 Moments were precious ; for in Mexico 
 conspirators have the sad privilege over 
 every other prisoner of being tried 
 quickly, and not left to pine. The 
 prisoner must be saved. 
 
 Valentine, with that promptitude of 
 
116 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 decision which formed the salient point 
 of his character, soon arranged in his 
 head one of those bold schemes which 
 only he could discover. 
 
 " Courage !" be 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 Valen 
 tine : he had often been in the position 
 to try his friend. If these words did 
 not completely re-assure 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 abandonedNiirn. 
 
 " Speak, my friend," he said. " What 
 is to be done ?" 
 
 " Let us attend to the most impor 
 tant tiling first, and save Father Sera- 
 phin, who devoted himself for us." 
 
 The three men started. 
 
 The night was a gloomy one. The 
 moon only appeared at intervals : in 
 cessantly veiled by thick clouds which 
 passed over its disc, it seemed to shed 
 its sickly rays regretfully on the earth. 
 The wind whistled through the branches 
 of the trees, which uttered mysterious 
 murmurs as they came into collision. 
 The coyotes howled in the plain, and 
 at times their sinister form shot athwart 
 the sky-line. After a march of about 
 an hour the three men approached the 
 spot where the missionary had fallen 
 from the effect of Red Cedar's bullet ; 
 but he had disappeared. An alarm 
 mingled with a frightful agony contract 
 ed the hunter's hearts. 
 
 Valentine took a despairing glance 
 around ; but the darkness was too 
 dense for him possibly to distinguish 
 anything. 
 
 " W hat is to be done ?" Don Pablo 
 asked sadly. 
 
 " Seek," Valentine replied sharply : 
 " he cannot be far." 
 
 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 situations his determina 
 
 tion 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?" the hunter 
 asked him, as he seized his arm. 
 
 " To look for Father Seraphin." 
 
 " Wait." 
 
 The two men stood motionless, lis 
 tening to the mysterious sounds of the 
 desert, that nameless melody which 
 plunges the soul into a soft reverie. 
 Nearly an hour passed thus, nothing 
 revealing to the hunters that Curumil 
 la' s search had proved successful. 
 
 Valentine, growing impatient at this 
 long delay, was also preparing to go on, 
 at once the weak, snapping cry of the 
 walkon rose in the air. 
 
 " What's that?" Don Pablo asked in 
 surprise. 
 
 "Silence!" Valentine muttered.. 
 
 A second time the walkon sang, but 
 this time stronger, and much nearer. 
 
 Valentine raised his fingers to his 
 lips, and imitated the sharp, .shrill yell 
 of the ocelot twice, with such perfection 
 that Don Pablo started involuntarily, 
 and looked round for the wild beast, 
 whose eyes he fancied he could see flash 
 ing behind a thicket. Almost imme 
 diately the note of the walkon was 
 heard a third time. 
 
 Valentine rested the butt of his rifla 
 on the ground. 
 
 "Good!" he said. "Do not be 
 be alarmed, Don Pablo. Curumilia has 
 found Father Seraphin." 
 
 The young man looked at him in 
 amazement. 
 
 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 
 injurious than useful. The song of 
 birds, the cry of wild beasts, serve us 
 as a language." 
 
 " Yes,' 1 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 an 
 swered good-humoredly : " you will see 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 117 
 
 much more if you only pass a mont 
 in our company." 
 
 In a tew moments the sound of foot 
 steps became audible, at first faint, thei 
 gradually coming nearer, and two sha 
 dows were dimly drawn on the night. 
 
 " Halloa !" Valentine shouted as h 
 raised and cocked his rifle, " friend 01 
 foe ?" 
 
 " Pennis (brothers)," a voice an 
 swered. 
 
 " It is Curumilla," said Valentine. 
 " Let us go to meet him." 
 
 Don Pablo followed him, and they 
 soon reached the Indian, who walkeo 
 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, had 
 cast ar. xious glances around him, while 
 asking himself how he carne there. He 
 tried to rise; but then a poignant pain 
 he felt in his shoulder reminded him of 
 what had occurred. Still he did not 
 despair. Alone by night in the desert, 
 exposed to a thousand unknown dan 
 gers, of which the least was being de 
 voured by wild beasts, without weapons 
 to defend himself, too weak, indeed, to 
 attempt it, even if he had them, he re 
 solved 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 condi 
 tion demanded. 
 
 Father Seraphin, like the majority 
 of the missionaries who generously de 
 vote themselves to the welfare of 
 humanity, was a man who, under a 
 weak and almost feminine appearance, 
 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 suc 
 ceeded in fastening his handkerchief 
 round his shoulder, so as to check the 
 hemorrhage. It took more than an 
 
 hour before he could stand on his legs : 
 often he felt himself fanning, a cold per 
 spiration beaded at the root of his hair, 
 he had a buzzing in his ears, and every 
 thing seemed to be turning round him ; 
 but he wrestled with the pain, clasped 
 his hands with an effort, raised his tear- 
 laden eyes to heaven, and murmured 
 from the bottom of his heart : 
 
 " O God ! deign to support thy ser 
 vant, for he has set on thee all his 
 hopes and confidence." 
 
 Prayer, when made with faith, pro- 
 duc.-s in a man an effect whose conse 
 quences are immediate; it consoles 
 him, gives him courage, and almost re 
 stores him the strength that has desert 
 ed him. * 
 
 This was what happened to Father 
 Seraphin. 
 
 After uttering these few words he 
 set out boldly, supporting his tottering 
 footsteps with a stick, which a provi- 
 dnitial chance had placed in his way. 
 He walked thus for nearly halt' a leaguo 
 stopping at every instant to draw 
 breath ; but human endurance has lim 
 its beyond which it cannot go. In spite 
 >f the efforts he made, the missionary 
 it length felt his legs give way under 
 lim ; he understood that he could not 
 go further ; and he sank at the foot of 
 
 tree, certain that he had attempted 
 impossibilities, and henceforth resign- 
 ng to Providence the care of saving 
 him. 
 
 It was at this moment Curumilla ar- 
 ived near him. The Indian aided him 
 ;o rise, and then warned his comrades 
 >f the success of his search. 
 
 Father Seraphin, though the chief 
 iffered to carry him, refused, and wish- 
 td to walk to join his friends ; but his 
 ;trength deserted him a second time, 
 le lost his senses, and fell into the 
 irms of the Indian, who watched him 
 ittentively ; for he noticed his increas- 
 ng weakness, and foresaw his fall. 
 
 Valentine and Curumilla hastily con- 
 tructed a litter of tree branches, on 
 vhieh they laid the poor wounded man, 
 nd raising him on their shoulders, went 
 ff rapidly. 
 
 The night passed away, and the sun 
 as already high on tiie horizon, and 
 et the hunters wtu-e marching. At 
 
118 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 length, at about eleven o'clock, th-y 
 reached the cavern which served Val 
 entine as a shelter, and to which he had 
 resolved to carry his patieut, that he 
 might himself nurse him. 
 
 Father Seraphin was in a raging 
 fever ; his face was red, his eyes fl:i>h- 
 ing. As nearly 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 ; and then helped 
 by Curumilla, who had quietly pounded 
 oragano leaves, he formed a cataplasm, 
 which be laid on the wound, after first 
 carefully washing it. Scarcely had 
 this been done ere the missionary fell 
 into a deep sleep, which lasted till uight- 
 fcill. 
 
 Valentine's treatment had effected 
 
 wonders. The fever had disappeared, 
 
 the priest's features were calmed, the 
 
 .flush that purpled his cheeks had given 
 
 place lo a pallor caused by the loa v 
 
 blood ; in short, he was as well as 
 
 could be expected Ou opening his 
 
 eves he perceived the three hu tens 
 
 watching him anxiously. He smiled, 
 
 . j in a weak voice : 
 
 ' Tnauks, my brothers, thank 
 the help you have afforded me. Hea 
 ven will reward you. I feel much bet 
 ter." 
 
 " The Lord be praised f Valentine 
 answered. " You will escape, my fath 
 er, more cheaply than I had dared to 
 hope." 
 
 " Can it be possible ?" 
 
 " Yes, your wound, though serious, is 
 not dangerous, and in a few days you 
 can, if you think necessary, resume 
 your avocations." 
 
 l ' I than* you for this new good, my 
 dear Valentine. I no longer count the 
 times I have owed my life to you. 
 Heaven, in its infinite goodness, has 
 placed you near rne to support me in 
 ii.y tribulations, and succor uae in days 
 of d.. 
 
 Ttie uuuter blushed. 
 
 " Do not apeak so, my father," he 
 
 said ; ' I have only performed a sacred 
 liury. Do you feel strong enough to 
 talk for a few minutes w th me?" 
 
 '* Yes. Speak, my friend.'' 
 
 "I wished to ask your advice." 
 
 " My talents are very slight : still 
 you know how I love you, 
 Tell me what vexes you, and perhaps I 
 may be able to be useful to you." 
 
 " I believe it, my father."' 
 
 " Speak, then, in Heaven's name, my 
 friend ; for. if you have recour>e to rue, 
 the affair must be very serious." 
 
 " It cannot be more so." 
 
 " Go on : 1 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 Cur 
 umilla started tor Unicorn's village. At 
 sunset he returned to the cavern, ac 
 companied by the Coruanche chief. The 
 aachem entertained the most profound 
 respect for Fatrier Seraphiu, whose 
 noble character he could appreciate, 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 wounded you, to whom the M.isrer 
 of Life has imparted the secret to make 
 us happy ? \V hoever they mav be, 
 .ien shall die." 
 
 " My son," the priest answered gen 
 tly, " I will not pronounce befot 
 the name of the unhappy man who, in 
 a moment of madness, raised his hand 
 against rne. My God is a God of 
 peace ; He is merciful, and recommends 
 His creatures to forget injuries, aud re 
 quite good for evil." 
 
 The Indian looked at him in amaze 
 ment. He did not understand t.. 
 and touching sublimity of these pre 
 cepts < f love. Educated in the sangui 
 nary principles of his race pers - 
 like ail red-skins, that a warrior's first 
 du-y is revenge he only admitted that 
 

 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 119 
 
 rocious lu\v of the prairies which 
 finmands, " Eye tor eye, tooth fui 
 >oth r a terrible law, which we do 
 it venture, however, utterly to con- 
 mn in these countries, where am- 
 isties are permanent, and implacable 
 .Mth stands at every corner of the 
 tad. 
 
 " My son," Father Seraphin con tin u- 
 J. ''you area great warrior. Many 
 time vou have braved the atrocious 
 irtures of the stake of blood, a tiiou- 
 und fold more terrible titan death it- 
 -lf. Often have you, with a pleasure 1 
 xcuse (for it is in your nature), thrown 
 own your enemy, and planted your 
 nee on his chest. Have \ ou Lever 
 ardoned anybody in fight ?" 
 
 " Never !" the Indian answered, his 
 ve sparkling with satisfied pride. 
 ' Unicorn has sent many Apache dogs 
 o the happy hunting-grounds : their 
 e;lps are drying at the door of his 
 abin." 
 
 ' Well," the missionary said gently, 
 trv clemency onct, only once, and you 
 vill know one of the greatest pleasures 
 has granted to man ou earth that 
 pardoning." 
 The chief shook his head. 
 
 No." he said ; " a dead enemy is no 
 iger to be feared. Better to kill than 
 .ve. him means to avenge himself at 
 a later date." 
 
 " My son, you love me, I believe ?" 
 '' Yes. My father is good ; he has 
 behaved well to the Comanches, and 
 the\ are grateful. Let my father com 
 mand, and his son will obey." 
 
 " 1 have no right to give you an 
 order, my son. 1 can only ask a favor 
 of you." 
 
 " Good ! My father can explain 
 himself. Unicorn will do what he de 
 sires.'' 
 
 " 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 vou will render me 
 happy." 
 
 The chief frowned, and an expression 
 of dissatisfaction appeared ou his fea 
 tures. 
 
 father Seraphin anxiously followed 
 
 <>n the Comar.che's intelligent counte 
 nance the diiFe.-eiit shadows P-fiVcteJ on 
 it as in a mirror. At length the Indian 
 regained his stoicism, arid his face grew 
 serene agai . 
 
 " Does my father demand it ?" he 
 asked in a gentle voice. 
 
 " I desire it." 
 
 " Be it so : my father shall be satis 
 fied. I promise him to pardor. the first 
 enemy whom the, Manitoii causes to fall 
 beneath the point of my lance." 
 
 " Thanks, chief," the missionary ex 
 claimed joyfully, "thanks! Heaven 
 vviil reward you for this good idea." 
 
 The In iian bowed silently and turned 
 to Valentine, who had been listening to 
 the conversation. 
 
 ki My brother called me, and 1 came. 
 What does he want of Unicorn ?" 
 
 '* My brother will take his seat at the 
 council fire, and smoke the calumet 
 with his iriend. Chiefs do not speak 
 without reflecting on the words they 
 are about to utter." 
 
 ' My brother speaks well, and I will 
 take my s at 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 
 moments' rest, ard seated themselves 
 round the fire, when the calumet passed 
 from hand to hand. The Indians never 
 undertake anything important, or com 
 mence a discussion, without first smok 
 ing the calumet in counc 1, whatever 
 may be the circumstances in which they 
 are placed. 
 
 When the calumet had gone the 
 round Valentine rose. 
 
 " Every day," he said, bowing to 
 the 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 hunting-grounds 
 cover the whole surface of the earth. 
 The Apaches fly before the Comaiiche 
 warriors like cowardly coyotes before 
 courageous men. My brother has al 
 ready several times done me a service 
 with that greatness of soul which dis 
 tinguishes him, and can onlv belong to 
 a warrior so Celebrated as he is. To 
 day I have aga'ii a service to ask ;>f my 
 brother, and will he do it me] I pre- 
 
120 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 sume so ; for I know his heart, and tha 
 the Great Spirit of the Master of Lif 
 dwells in him." 
 
 " Let my brother explain," Unicorn 
 answered. " He is speaking to a cuief 
 he must remove the skin from his hear 
 and let his blood flow red and brigh 
 before a friend. The great white hunt 
 er is a portion of myself. 1 shoulc 
 have to be prevented by an arrant im 
 possibility if I refused any request em 
 anating from him." 
 
 "Thanks, brother," Valentine said 
 with emotion. " Your words have 
 passed from your lips into my breast, 
 which they have rejoiced. 1 am not 
 mistaken. I see that I can ever count 
 on your well-tried friendship and honest 
 aid. Acumaricthzin de Zarate, the de 
 scendant of the Mexican kings, the 
 friend of the redskins, whom he has 
 ever protected, is a prisoner to the ga- 
 ohupinos. They have carried him to 
 Santa Fe in order to put him to death, 
 and deprive the Indians of the last 
 iriend^ft them." 
 
 " And what does my brother want ?" 
 " 1 wish to save my friend." 
 " Good !" the chief answered. " My 
 brother claims my help to succeed in 
 that project, I suppose ?" 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Good ! The descendant of the Tla- 
 toanis shall be saved. My brother can 
 feel reassured." 
 
 " I can count, then, on my brother's 
 aid ?" Valentine asked quickly. 
 The chief smiled. 
 
 " Unicorn holds in his hands Span 
 iards 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 
 answer for success on my head." 
 
 " Caramba ! act as you please, chief. 
 Still, were it only form's sake, 1 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 prudence of a chief; Unicorn knows 
 how to treat with the gachupinus." 
 " Doubtless." 
 "Unicorn will go to Santa Fe to 
 
 speak with the chief of the white men." 
 Valentine looked at him in amaze 
 ment. The chief smiled. 
 
 " Have I not hostages?" he said. 
 " That is true," Valemine remarked. 
 The chief went on : 
 " The Spaniards are like chattering 
 old women, prodigal of seductive words, 
 but Unicorn knows them. How many 
 times already has he trodden the war 
 path on their territory at the head of 
 liis warriors ! They will not dare to 
 deceive him. Ere the sun has twice 
 accomplished its revolution round the 
 tortoise whose immense shell supports 
 the world, the chief of the Comanches 
 will carry the bloody arrows to the 
 whites, and propose to them peace or 
 war. Is my brother satisfied ]" 
 
 " J am. My heart is full of gratitude 
 toward rny red brother." 
 
 "Good! What is that to Unicorn ? 
 Less than nothing. Has my brother 
 anything else to ask of me ?" 
 
 " One thing more." 
 
 " Let rny brother explain himself as 
 quickly as possible, that no cloud may 
 emain between him and his red broth' 
 
 " I will do so. Men without fear of 
 he Great Spirit, urged by some mad 
 lesire, have carried off Dona Clara, the 
 laughter of the white chief whom my 
 jrother pledged to save." 
 
 " W ho are these ? Does my broth- 
 r know them ?" 
 
 " Yes, I know them only too well. 
 ?hey are bandits, at the head of whom 
 s a monster with a human lace, called 
 led Cedar." 
 
 At this name the Indian started 
 lightly, his eye flashed fire, and a deep 
 wrinkle hollowed his forehead. 
 
 " Red Cedar is a ferocious jaguar," he 
 aid with concentrated passion. " He 
 as made himself the scourge of the In 
 ians, whose scalps he desires. This 
 nan has no pity either for women or 
 hildren, but he possesses no courage : 
 e only attacks his enemies in the dark, 
 wenty against one, and when he is sure 
 f meeting with no resistance." 
 
 <v My brother knows this man, I see." 
 
 " And this man has carried off the 
 vhite gazelle ? ' 
 
 1 Yes." 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 121 
 
 " Good ! My brother wishes to know 
 what Red Cedar has done with his pris 
 oner ?" 
 
 " [ do wish it." 
 
 The Indian rose. 
 
 "Time is slipping away," he said. 
 "Unicorn will return to his friends. 
 My brother the hunter 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 
 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 vocation, was not disposed to 
 employ violent measures, which were 
 repugnant to him : he would have liked, 
 were it possible, to settle everything by 
 gentleness, and without running the risk 
 of bloodshed. 
 
 Three weeks elapsed, however, ere 
 Unicorn appeared to be effectually car 
 rying out the plan he had explained to 
 Valentine, who only learnt indirectly 
 'that a strong party of Cornanche war 
 riors had invaded the Mexican frontiers. 
 
 Father Seraphiu, though not yet com 
 pletely cured, had insisted on proceed 
 ing to Santa Fe to take some steps to 
 save Don Miguel, whose tri 1 had gone 
 on rapidly, who was on the point of be 
 ing executed. 
 
 For his part Don Pablo, half mad 
 with uneasiness, also insisted, in spite 
 of Valentine's entreaties and remarks, 
 on entering Santa Fe furtively, and try 
 ing to see his father. 
 
 The night on which we fuund Valen 
 tine in the clearing Unicorn visited him 
 for the first time in a month : he 
 came to inform him of the success of 
 the measures he had taken. 
 
 Valentine, used to Indian habits, un 
 derstood half a word : hence he had 
 not hesitated to announce to Don 
 Pablo as a positive fact that his father 
 would soou be free. 
 
 CHAPTER xxxir. 
 
 THE PRISON. 
 
 DON MIGUEL had been transferred to 
 the prison of Santa Fe. 
 
 Europeans, accustomed to philan-* 
 throphic manners, and regarding human 
 life as of some value, cannot imagine 
 what atrocities the word "prison" con 
 tains in Mexico. In countries beyond 
 sea the penitentiary system is not even 
 in its infancy ; for it is completely 
 ignored, and has not even been sug 
 gested yet. With the exception of the 
 United States, prisons are in America 
 what the)' were at the period of the 
 Spanish dominion ; that is to say, filthy 
 dens, where the wretched prisoners 
 suffer a thousand tortures. 
 
 Among ourselves, so long as a .man 
 is not proved guilty, he is assumed to 
 be innocent; but over there, so soon 
 as a man is arrested, he is considered 
 guilty, and consequently every consider 
 ation and all pity vanish, to make room 
 for brutal and barbarous treatment. 
 Thrown on a little straw in fetid holes, 
 often inhabited by serpents and other 
 unclean animals, the prisoners have 
 more than once been found dead at the 
 expiration of twenty-four hours, and 
 half devoured. We have witnessed 
 scores of times atrocious tortures in 
 flicted by coarse and cruel soldiers on 
 poor fellows whose crimes, in our coun 
 try, would have merited a slight chastise 
 ment at the most. Still, in the great 
 centres of populations, the prisons are 
 better managed than in the towns and 
 villages ; and in this land, where money 
 is the most powerful lever, a rich man 
 easily succeeds in obtaining all he wishes, 
 and rendering his position at any rate 
 to.erabie. 
 
 Don Miguel and General Ibauez had 
 managed to be confined together by the 
 expenditure of many entreaties and a 
 neavy sum of gold. They inhabited 
 ;wo wretched rooms, the entire furni 
 ture of which consisted in a halting table, 
 a few leather-covered butaccas, and two 
 benches which served them as beds. 
 These two men, so powerful by nature, 
 lad endured without complaint all the 
 lumiliation aud insults inflicted on them 
 
122 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 during their trial, resolved to die as 
 they had lived, with head erect and firm 
 heart, without giving the judges who 
 had condemned them the satisfaction of 
 seeing them turn weak at the last mo- 
 ment. 
 
 It was toward 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, al 
 lowed but a weak and dubious light to 
 penetrate. 
 
 Don Miguel was walking with long 
 strides up and down his prison, while 
 the general, carelessly reclining on one 
 of the benches, quietly smoking his 
 cigarette,watching with childish pleasure 
 the light clouds of bluish smoke which 
 rose in a spiral to the ceiling, and which 
 he constantly 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 exe 
 cution." 
 
 " Can you at all account for this de- 
 lay?" 
 
 " On my honor, no. I have ransacked 
 my brains in vain to guess the reason 
 that prevents them shooting us, and I 
 have given it up as a bad job." 
 
 " Same with me. At first I fancied 
 they were trying to frighten us by the 
 continued apprehension of death con 
 stantly suspended 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 occur- 
 ring." 
 
 " 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 brutal. I noticed that he 
 has drawn in his claws, and attempted 
 a grin. It is true that his face is so 
 little accustomed to assume that expres 
 sion, 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 
 incomprehensible change. It would be 
 
 as absurd to attribute it to the pity he 
 feels for our position as to suppose the 
 governor 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 dispose of it at His pleasure." 
 
 " Amen !" the general said with a 
 laugh, as he rolled a fresh cigarette. 
 
 " Do you not consider it extraordi 
 nary that, during the whole month we 
 have been here, our friends have not 
 given a sign of life ?" 
 
 The general shrugged his shoulders 
 carelessly. 
 
 " Hum !" he said, " a prisoner is very 
 sick, and our friends doubtless feared 
 to make us worse by the sight of their 
 grief: that is why they have deprived 
 
 themselves of the pleasure of visitin^ 
 B 
 
 us. 
 
 '' Do not jest, general. You accuse 
 them wrongfully, i feel convinced." 
 
 " May Heaven grant it ! For my 
 part, 1 heartily forgive them their in 
 difference, and the oblivion in which j 
 they have left us." 
 
 "I cannot believe that Don Valentine, 
 that true-hearted and noble-minded man, 
 for whom I ever felt so deep a friend 
 ship, has not tried to see me." 
 
 " Bah ! How, Don Miguel, can you, 
 so near death as you are, still believe in 
 honorable 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 re 
 cognising the visitor, who wore a long 
 black gown. 
 
 " Eh, eh !" the general muttered in 
 bis comrade's ear, " I believe that Gene 
 ral Ventura, our amiable governor, has 
 at length made up his mind." 
 
 " Why so?" Don Miguel asked in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " Canaries ! he has sent us a priest, 
 which means that we shall be executed 
 to-morrow." 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 123 
 
 " On my word, all the better," Don 
 Miguel could not refrain from saying. 
 
 In the meanwhile 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 
 getting dark, and when people are talk 
 ing 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 savagely, " Well, senores, here is a 
 priest. Take advantage of his services 
 now you have got him. In your posi 
 tion there is no knowing what may hap 
 pen from one moment to the other." 
 
 The prisoners shrugged their shoul 
 ders contemptuously, but made no re- 
 
 p!y- 
 
 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 manoeu 
 vre on the part of the stranger sur 
 prised the two gentlemen, who anxious 
 ly awaited what was about to happen. 
 The lantern left by the jailer only 
 spread a faint and flickering 1 light, 
 scarcely sufficient to distinguish objects. 
 
 " My father," the haciendero said in 
 a firm voice, " I thank the person who 
 sent you to prepare me >r death, for I 
 anxiously wished to fulfil my duties as 
 a Christian before being executed. If 
 you will proceed with me into the ad 
 joining room 1 will confess my sins to 
 you: they are those which an honest 
 man ordinarily commits; for rny heart 
 is pure, and I have nothing to reproach 
 myself with." 
 
 The priest took off his hat, seized the 
 lantern, and placed it near his pale face, 
 whose noble and gentle features were 
 suddenly displayed in the light. 
 
 " Father Seraphin !" the prisoners 
 
 exclaimed with a surprise mingled with 
 
 jy- 
 
 " Silence !" the priest ordered quick 
 ly. " Dp not pronounce my name so 
 loudly, brothers : every one is ignorant 
 of my being here except the jailer, who 
 is my confidant." 
 
 " He !" Don Miguel said with a 
 stupor ; " the man who has been insult 
 ing and humiliating 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 your evasion can be 
 even suspected : the horses are pre 
 pared an escort is awaiting you. 
 Come, gentlemen, for the moments are 
 precious." 
 
 The two prisoners interchanged a 
 glance of sublime eloquence ; then 
 General Ibanez quietly seated himself 
 on a butacca, while Don Miguel re 
 plied : I 
 
 " Thanks, my father. You have un 
 dertaken the noble task of soothing all 
 sorrow, and you do not wish to fail in 
 your duty. Thanks for the offer you 
 make us, which we cannot, however, 
 accept. Men like us must not give our 
 enemies right by flying like criminals. 
 We fought for a sacred principle, and 
 succumbed. We owe it to our coun 
 trymen and to ourselves to endure 
 death bravely. When we conspired 
 we were perfectly well aware of what 
 awaited us if we were conquered. 
 Once again, thanks; but we will only 
 quit this prison as free men, or to walk 
 to punishment." 
 
 " I have not the courage, gentlemen, 
 to blame your heroic resolution : in a 
 similar case I should act as you are 
 doing. You have a very slight hope 
 still left, so wait. Perchance, within a 
 few hours, unforeseen events will occur 
 to change the face of matters." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Now I am ready to hear your con 
 fession." 
 
 The prisoners bowed. Father Sera- 
 
124 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 phin shrived them in turn, and gave 
 them absolution. 
 
 " Hola !" the jailer shouted through 
 the door. " Make haste ; it is gettiti 
 late. It will soon be impossible to 
 icuve 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. These caballeros refuse to pro 
 fit by the chance of safety 1 came to 
 offer them." 
 
 The jailer shook his head and shrug 
 ged his shoulders. 
 
 " They are mad," he said. 
 
 And he went out, followed by the 
 priest, who turned on the threshold and 
 pointed to heaven. 
 
 The prisoners remained alone. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE EMBASSY. 
 
 ON the selfsame day that Father 
 Seraphin went to the prison to propose 
 an escape to the condemned, a very 
 strange circumstance had aroused the 
 entire population of Santa Fe. 
 
 At about mid-day, at the moment 
 when the inhabitants were enjoying- 
 their siesta, and the streets, calcined by 
 'the beams of a tropical sun, were 
 completely deserted, a formidable 
 whoop, the terrible war-yell of the 
 Comanche Indians, burst forth at the 
 entrance of the town. 
 
 There was a general alarm, and 
 everybody barricaded himself in his 
 house, believing in a sudden assault of 
 the savages. Presently an immense 
 clamor, and cries of distress and des 
 pair uttered by a terrified population, 
 could be heard throughout the town. 
 Several times already the Comanches. 
 . in their periodical incursions, had come 
 near Santa Fe, but never so closely as 
 this ti'me ; and the remembrance of the 
 cruelties they had practised on the hap 
 less Spaniards who fell into their hands 
 was still present to every mind. 
 
 lu the meanwhile a few inhabitants, 
 
 bolder than the rest, or having nothing 
 to lose, proceeded with the greatest 
 precautions toward the spot whence the 
 shouts were heard ; and a singular 
 spectacle presented itself. 
 
 A detachment of dismounted Co man. 
 che, 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. 
 
 All these men had a martial aspect 
 which was really remarkable : all were 
 strangely painted, well adorned, and in 
 their full war costume. The horsemen 
 were loaded with all sorts of arms and 
 ornaments : they had a bow and quiver 
 on their backs, their guns slung and de 
 corated with their medicine bags, and 
 their lances in their hands. They were 
 crowned with magnificent black and 
 white eagle feathers, with a falling tuft. 
 The upper part of the body, otht-rwise 
 naked, was covered by a coyote skin 
 rolled up and worn across the shoulder; 
 their bucklers were ornamented with 
 feathers, cloth of different colors, and 
 human scalps. They were seated on 
 handsome saddle-cloth of panthers' 
 skins, lined with red, which almost 
 covered the horses' backs. According 
 to the prairie fashion, they had no 
 stirrups. 
 
 Unicorn brandished in his right hand 
 the long medicine lance, the distinctive 
 mark of the powerful " dance of the 
 prairie dogs." It was a staff in the 
 shape of a crook, covered with an otter 
 skin, and decorated through its entire 
 length with owl feathers. 
 
 This talisman, which he had inherited, 
 possessed the power of bringing under 
 his orders all the warriors of his nation 
 scattered over the prairies : hence on 
 all grand occasions he never failed to 
 carry it. 
 
 He wore a shirt made of the skin of 
 the bighorn, embroidered on the sleeves 
 with blue flowers, and adorned on the 
 right arm with long stripes of rolled 
 rmine and red feathers, and on the left 
 arm with long -tresses of black hair cut 
 "rom the scalps he had raised. Over 
 :iis shoulders he had thrown a cloak of 
 gazelle skin, having at each end an. 
 normous tuft of ermine. On his fore- 
 
THE TRAIL-HUXTER. 
 
 125 
 
 head the chief had fastened two buflai 
 horns, which with the blue, red, am 
 green paint plastered on his face, gav 
 him a terrible aspect. 
 
 His magnificent horse,'a mustang ful 
 of fire, which he managed with inimit 
 able grace and skill, was painted red in 
 different fashions: on its legs were 
 stripes like a zebra, and on either sid 
 the back-bone were designed arrow 
 head*, lances, beavers, tortoises, &c 
 The same was the case with the face ant 
 the haunches. 
 
 There was something at once impos 
 ing and striking in the appearance pre 
 sented by this band of ferocious war 
 riors as they advanced though the 
 deserted streets of the city, brandishin 
 their tremendous weapons, and uttering 
 at intervals their sinister war-cry, which 
 they accompanied by the shrill sound of 
 long whistles made of human thigh 
 bones, which they wore suspended by 
 strips of wild-beast hide. 
 
 By this time the Comanches had 
 penetrated to the heart of the city, 
 driving before them, though without 
 violence, the few inhabitants who had 
 ventured to get in their way. They 
 marched in good order, not turning to 
 the right or left to plunder, and doing 
 no ivprehensive action. 
 
 The Spaniards, more and more sur 
 prised at the haughty and bold attitude 
 of the Indians, and their exemplary con 
 duct, asked themselves with terror what 
 these men wanted, and what reason had 
 led them to invade their frontiers in so 
 sudden and secret a way, that the scouts 
 the Mexican Government pays to watch 
 them had no knowledge of their march. 
 As usually happens in such cases, 
 terror gradually gave way to curiosity. 
 In the first place the leperos and ad 
 venturers dared to approach the Indians; 
 then the inhabitants, if not completely 
 tranquilUed, still reassured by their 
 peaceful attitude, mingled with the 
 groups ; so that when the Comanche 
 war-party arrived on the Plaza Mayor 
 it was followed by a crowd of Spaniards, 
 who regarded them with the restless 
 and stupid curiosity only to be found 
 among the masses. 
 
 The Comauches did not appear to 
 8 
 
 notice the excitement they created. As 
 soon as 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. 
 
 " VVah !" the Indian said sarcastically, 
 as he lightly touched the soldier with 
 the end of his lance. " Is my brother; 
 asleep, that he does not hear a warrior' 
 addressing him ?" 
 
 "1 am not asleep," the soldier an- 
 swered, as he fell back a pace. " What 
 do you want?" 
 
 " The great sachem of the Comanches, 
 the cacique whom the red children call 
 Haboutzelze, has come to speak to his 
 great white father, the chief of the fron 
 tier palefaces." 
 
 " What does he want with him ?" the 
 soldier asked, not knowing what he said, 
 so much had the unexpected sight of the 
 redskin disturbed him. 
 
 ' Is my brother a chief?" the Indian 
 asked cunningly. 
 
 " No," the soldier answered, greatly 
 onfused by this lesson. 
 
 " Well, then, let him close his ears 
 as regards those the Great Spirit has 
 set above him, and deliver the message 
 . give him in the sachem's name." 
 
 While the Comanche was exchanging 
 hese few words with the sentry, sev- 
 sral persons, drawn out of the palace 
 >y the unusual disturbance they heard, 
 ningled with the crowd. Among them 
 vere several officers, one of whom ad- 
 anced to the Indian horseman. 
 " What does my brother want]" he 
 asked him. 
 
 The warrior saw at the first glance 
 hat this time he had to do with a eh ef. 
 le bowed courteously, and answered . 
 
 " A deputation of the great Coman- 
 
 he nation desires to be introduced to 
 
 11 y great white father." 
 
 "Good ! But all the warriors cannot 
 
 liter the palace," the officer said.' 
 
 " My brother is right. Their chiefs 
 lone will go in : their young men will 
 wait them here." 
 
126 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " Let my brother be patient. I will 
 go and deliver his message in all haste." 
 
 " Good ! My brother is a chief. The 
 Spider will await him." 
 
 The officer disappeared in the inte 
 rior, while the Spider planted the end 
 of his long lance in the ground, and re 
 mained with his eye fixed on the gate of 
 the palace, not evincing the slightest 
 impatience. 
 
 The new governor of Santa Fe was 
 .1 general of the name of Don Benito 
 Ventura. He was ignorant as a fish, 
 stupid and haughty as a heathcock. 
 Like the majority of his colleagues in 
 this eccentric country, he hud gained his 
 general's epaulettes by repeated pro- 
 nounciamentos, managing to gain a step 
 by every revolution, while never hav 
 ing seen more fire than that of the thin 
 husk pajillo he constantly had in his 
 mouth. 
 
 To sum him up, he was very rich, a 
 wonderful coward, and more afraid of 
 blows than aught else in the world. 
 Such he was morally : physically he 
 was a plump little man, round as a bar 
 rel, with a rubicund face, lighted up by 
 two small grey eyes. 
 
 This worthy officer perspired water 
 and blood when the duties of his station 
 obliged him to put on the uniform, 
 every seam of which was overlaid with 
 gold lace : his chest liberally disappear 
 ed under the infinity of crosses of every 
 description with which each president 
 had honored him on attaining power. 
 In a word, General V T entura was a wor 
 thy man, as fit to be a soldier as he 
 was to be a cardinal ; and he had only 
 one olject, that of being President of 
 the Republic in his turn ; but this ob 
 ject he ever pursued without once 
 swerving from his path. 
 
 If he accepted the governorship of 
 New Mexico, it was for the simple rea 
 son that, as Santa Fe was a long dis 
 tance from Mexico, he had calculated 
 
 that it would be easy for him to make 
 a pronounciamento in his own favor, and 
 become, ipso facto, president. He was 
 not aware, on coming to Santa Fe, that 
 the province he was about to govern 
 was incessantly menaced by Indian 
 forays. Had he known it, however ad 
 vantageous the post of governor might 
 be for his schemes, he would have re 
 fused point blank so perilous an honor. 
 
 He had learned with the utmost ter 
 ror the entrance of the Comanches into 
 the town, and when the officer intrusted 
 with the Spider's message presented 
 himself before him he had literally lost 
 his head. It took all possible trouble 
 to make him comprehend that the In 
 dians came as friends, that they merely 
 wished to have a palaver with him, and 
 that since their coming their conduct 
 had been most honorable and exempla 
 ry. 
 
 Fortunately for the Spanish honor, 
 other officers entered the apartment in 
 which was the governor, attracted to 
 the palace by the news, which had 
 spread with the speed of a train of 
 powder through Santa Fe, of the ap 
 pearance of an Indian detachment. 
 
 When the general saw himself sur 
 rounded and supported by the officers 
 of his staff his terror was slightly toned 
 down, he regained his presence of mind 
 and it was with a calm and almost dig 
 nified demeanor that he discussed the 
 question whether it was proper to re 
 ceive the Indian deputation, and in what 
 manner it should be done. 
 
 The other officers, who, in the course 
 of their professional career, had had 
 many a skirmish with the redskins, felt 
 no inclination to anger them. They 
 produced in support of their opinions 
 such peremptory reasons, that General 
 Ventura, convinced by their arguments 
 gave the officer who brought the mes 
 sage orders to bring the three principal 
 Indian chiefs into the palace. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 127 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE PRESENTATION. 
 
 IT needed the thorough knowledge 
 the Comanches possessed of the terror 
 they inspired the Mexicans with to have 
 dared to enter in so small a body a 
 town like Santa Fe, where they might 
 expect to find a considerable garrison. 
 
 The general officer sent by General 
 Ventura had performed his duty. 
 
 Unicorn and two other chiefs dis 
 mounted, and followed him into the 
 palace; while the Indian warriors, in 
 spite of the heat of the sunbeams that 
 played on their heads, remained mo 
 tionless on the spot where their ca 
 ciques bade them wait. 
 
 The general desired, by a certain dis 
 play of strength, to impose on the red 
 skin deputies; but unfortunately, as is 
 always the case in Mexico, the garrison, 
 which. on paper represented eight hun 
 dred men, was in reality only composed 
 of sixty at the most a very small 
 number for a frontier town, especially 
 under the present circumstances. But 
 if soldiers were lacking, to make up for 
 it tHere was no paucity of officers ; for 
 about thirty were assembled at the 
 palace, which allowrd one officer to 
 every two privates. This detail, which 
 might appear exaggerated, is, however, 
 strictly correct, and shows in what a 
 state of anarchy this hapless country is 
 plunged. 
 
 The 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 
 halls of reception. 
 
 When the preparations were com 
 pleted the ambassadors were introdu 
 ced. 
 
 The Indian qhiefs, accustomed for a 
 long period to Spanish luxury, entered 
 without testifying the slightest surprise. 
 They bowed with dignity to the assem 
 bly, and, crossing their arms on their 
 chests, waited till they were addressed. 
 
 The general regarded them with an 
 astonishment pardonable enough, for 
 this was the first time he had found him 
 self in the presence of these untamable 
 
 redskins, whose terrible renown had so 
 often made him shudder. 
 
 " What reason can have been so 
 powerful as to oblige my sons to come 
 and see me ?" he asked in a gracious 
 and conciliating tone. " Let them make 
 their request, and, if I can do so, 1 shall 
 be most ready to satisfy it." 
 
 This opening, which t le governor fan 
 cied to be very politic, was, on the con 
 trary, most awkward, as it offended the 
 pride of those he addressed, and whom 
 he had the greatest interest in humor 
 ing. 
 
 Unicorn took a step forward. A sar 
 castic smile played on his lips, and he 
 replied in a voice slightly tinged with 
 irony : 
 
 " 1 have heard a parrot speak. Are 
 the words addressed to me?" 
 
 The general blushed up to the eyes 
 at this insult, which he did not dare re 
 taliate. 
 
 " The chief has not understood my 
 words," he sail. " My intentions are 
 good, and 1 only wish to be agreeable 
 to him.'' 
 
 " The Comanches do not come here 
 to ask a favor," Unicorn answered 
 haughtily. " They know how to avenge 
 themselves when insulted." 
 
 " What do my sons want, then?" 
 
 " To treat with my father for the 
 ransom of the white chiefs who are in 
 heir power. Five palefaces inhabit the 
 cabin of the Comanches. The young 
 men of the tribe demand their punish- 
 nent, for the blood of the palefaces is 
 agreeable to the Master of Life. To 
 morrow the prisoners will have ceased 
 to live if mv father does not buy them 
 off to day." 
 
 After these words, uttered in a firm 
 a'nd peremptory tone, there was a mo 
 ment of supreme silence. The Mexi 
 can officers reflected sadly on the fear 
 ful fate that threatened their friends. 
 
 Unicorn continued : 
 
 "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 Coman- 
 
128 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 ches. We only, wish, for the life of 
 these five men, the life of two men." 
 
 " That is little, I allow," the general 
 remarked ; " and who are the two men 
 whose lives you ask ?" 
 
 " The palefaces call them, the first, 
 Don Miguel Zarate ; the second, Gene 
 ral Ibanez." 
 
 The general started. 
 
 "These two men cannot be delivered 
 to you," he answered; "they are con 
 demned to death, and will die to-mor 
 row.'' 
 
 " Gdod ! My prisoners will be tor 
 tured this night," the chief replied 
 stoically. 
 
 "Confound it!" the general sharply 
 exclaimed, " is there no other arrange 
 ment possible? Let my brothers ask 
 me a thing 1 can grant them, and " 
 
 " I want those two men," the chief 
 quickly interrupted. " If not, my war 
 riors will themselves deliver them ; and 
 in that case the Cornanche chiefs cannot 
 prevent the injury their warriors may 
 commit in the town." 
 
 One of the officers present at this in 
 terview was aroused by the tone Uni 
 corn had affected since the beginning of 
 the audience. He was a brave old sol 
 dier, and the cowardice of his comrades 
 shamed him. Pie rose at this point. 
 1 " Chief," he said in a firm voice, 
 " your words are very haughty and 
 foolish for the mouth of an ambassador. 
 You are here, at the head of scarce two 
 hundred warriors, in the heart of a 
 town peopled by brave men. Despite 
 all my desire to be agreeable to you, if 
 you do not pay greater respect to your 
 audience, prompt and severe justice 
 shall be inflicted on your insolence." 
 
 The Indian chief turned toward the 
 new speaker, whose remarks had arous 
 ed a sympathetic murmur. 
 
 " My words are those of a man who 
 fears nothing, and holds in his hands the 
 life of five men." 
 
 " Well," the officer retorted sharply, 
 " what do we care for them? If they 
 were such fools as to let you capture 
 them, they must suffer the consequen 
 ces of their madness ; we cannot pay 
 for them. Besides, as you have alrea 
 dy been told, those you claim must 
 die." 
 
 " Good ! We will retire," Unicorn 
 said haughtily. " Longer discourse is 
 need ess; our deeds shall speak for us." 
 
 "A moment!'' the general exclaim 
 ed. "All may yet be arranged. An 
 affair like the present cannot be settled 
 all in a hurry ; 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. 
 
 " My father has spoken wisely," he 
 presently m&de answer. " To-morrow 
 at the twelfth hour, I will come for the 
 final answer of the pale-faces. But my 
 father will promise me not to order the 
 punishment of the prisoners till he has 
 told me the decision he has come to." 
 
 " Be it so," the general answered. 
 " But what will the Comanches do till 
 then V' 
 
 "They will leave the town as they 
 entered it, and bivouac on the plain." 
 
 " Agreed on." 
 
 " The Master of Life has heard my 
 father's promise. If he break his word 
 and possess a forked tongue, the blood 
 shed will fall on his head." 
 
 The Comanche uttered these words 
 in a significant tone that made the gen 
 eral tremble inwardly ; then he bowed 
 to the assembly, and, left the hall with 
 his companions. On reaching the 
 square the chiefs remounted their horses 
 and placed themselves at the head of 
 their warriors. An hour later the 
 Comanches had left the town, and carnp- 
 ed within two gun-shots of the walls, on 
 the banks of the river. 
 
 It was after this interview that Uni 
 corn had the conversation with Valen 
 tine which we recently described. 
 
 Still, when the Mexican officers were 
 alone with the general, their courage 
 returned all at once, and they reproach 
 ed him for the little dignity he had dis 
 played before the Indian's, and specially 
 for the promise he had made them. 
 
 The general listened to them calmly, 
 with a smile on his lips, and contented 
 himself with answering them, in a tone 
 of indescribable meaning: 
 
 " The promise you allude to pledges 
 me to nothing. Between this and to 
 morrow certain things will happen to 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 129 
 
 free us from the Comanches, and let us 
 dispense with surrendering the prison 
 ers they demand so insolently." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 PSYCHOLOGICAL. 
 
 ABOUT half a league to the 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 bois-de-vache fire, supping 
 with good appetite, and chatting to 
 gether. 
 
 The three men were Red Cedar's sons ; 
 the female was Ellen. 
 
 The maiden was pale and sad : her 
 dreamy eye wandered around with a 
 distraught expression. She listened 
 hardly to what her brothers said, and 
 would certainly have been greatly em 
 barrassed to describe the conversation, 
 for her mind was elsewhere. 
 
 " Hum !" Sutter said, " what the 
 deuce can keep the old one so long ] 
 He told us he should be back by four 
 o'clock at the latest ; but the sun is just 
 disappearing on the horizon, and he has 
 not come yet." 
 
 " Pshaw !" Nathan said with a shrug 
 of the shoulders. " Are you afraid that 
 something has happened to him ? The 
 old chap has beak and nails to defend 
 himself; and since his last turn up with 
 Don Miguel, the fellow who is to be 
 shot to-morrow at Santa Fe, he has 
 kept on his guard." 
 
 " I care very little," Sutter replied 
 brusquely, " whether father is here or 
 not ; but I believe we should do well 
 not to wait longer, but return to the 
 camp, where our presence is doubtless 
 necessary." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Our comrades can do 
 
 ; without us,'' Shaw observed. " We 
 are all right here, so suppose we stop 
 the night. To-morrow it will be day. 
 "Well, if father has not returned by sun 
 rise, we will go back to camp. Harry 
 and Dick can keep good order till our 
 return." 
 
 " In truth, Shaw is right," Nathan 
 said. " Father is at times so strange, 
 that he might be angry v/ith us for not 
 
 having waited for him, for he never 
 does anything lightly. If he told us to 
 stay here, he probably had his reasons." 
 
 " Let us stay, then," Sutter remarked 
 carelessly. " I ask for nothing better. 
 We shall only have to keep the fire up, 
 and so one of us will watch while the 
 others sleep." 
 
 " Agreed on," Nathan replied. " In 
 that way, if the old man comes during 
 our sleep, he will see that we waited 
 for him." 
 
 The three brothers rose. 
 
 Sutter and Nathan collected a pile of 
 dry wood to maintain the fire, while 
 Shaw intertwined a few branches to 
 make his sister a sufficient shelter 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 lookout, not only against wild 
 beasts, but to announce the old squat 
 ter's approach. 
 
 Shaw, after stirring up the fire, threw 
 himself at the foot of a larch tree, and 
 letting his head sink on his chest, plung 
 ed into deep and painful meditation. 
 
 This poor boy, hardly twenty years 
 of age, was a strange composite of good 
 and evil qualities. 
 
 Reared in the desert, he had grown 
 up like one of its native trees, thrusting 
 out here and there branches full of 
 powerful sap. Nothing had ever thwart 
 ed his instincts, no matter what their 
 nature might be. Possessing no cog 
 nizance of justice and injustice, he had 
 never been able to appreciate the squat 
 ter's conduct, or see the injury he did 
 society by the life he led. Habituated 
 to regard as belonging to himself all 
 that he wished for, allowing himself to 
 be guided by his impressions and 
 caprices, never having felt any other 
 fetter than his father's despotic will, this 
 young man had at once a nature expan 
 sive and reserved, generous and avarici 
 ous, gentle and cruel : in a word, he 
 possessed all the qualities of his vices ; 
 but he was, before all, a man of sensa 
 tions. Endowed with "a vast intellect, 
 extreme audacity, and lively compre 
 hensions, he would have been indubita 
 bly a remarkable man, had he been born 
 in a different position. 
 
130 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 His sister Ellen was the only mem 
 ber of his family for whom he expe 
 rienced sympathy ; and yet it was only 
 with extreme reserve that he intrusted 
 his boyish secrets to her secrets 
 which, during the last few days, had ac 
 quired an importance he did not him 
 self suspect, but which his sister, with 
 the innate intelligence of woman, had 
 already divined. 
 
 SiuiAV, as we have said, was thinking. 
 The young savage's indomitable nature 
 revolted against an unknown force 
 which had suddenly sprung up in his 
 heart mastered and subdued him in 
 spite of all his efforts. 
 
 He was in love ! lie loved, ignorant 
 even of the meaning of the word love, 
 which comprises in this nether world 
 all earthly joy and suffering. Vainly 
 he sought to explain his feelings ; but 
 no light flashed across his mind, or il 
 lumined the darkness of his heart. He 
 loved without desire and without hope, 
 involuntarily obeying that divine law 
 which compels even the roughest man 
 to seek a mate. 
 
 He was dreaming of Dona Clara. 
 He loved her, as he was capable of lov 
 ing, with that passionate impetuosity, 
 that violence of feeling, to which his 
 uncultivated mind adapted him. The 
 sight of the maiden caused him a 
 strange trouble, which he did not at 
 tempt to account for. He did not 
 try to analyse his feelings, for that 
 would have been impossible; and yet 
 at times he was a prey to cold and ter 
 rible fury, when thinking that the 
 haughty maiden, who was even uncon 
 scious of his existence, would probably 
 only spurn and despise him if she knew 
 it. 
 
 He was yielding to these crushing 
 thoughts, when he suddenly felt a hand 
 laid on his shoulder. Ou turning, El 
 len stood before him, upright and mo 
 tionless, like the white apparitions of 
 the German legends. He raised his 
 head, and bent an inquiring glance on 
 his sister. 
 
 "You are not -asleep, Ellen ?" 
 
 " No," she answered iu a voice soft 
 as a bird's song. " Brother, my heart 
 is sad." 
 
 " What is the matter, Ellen] Why 
 
 not enjoy a few hours of that repose so 
 necessary for you ?" 
 
 " My heart is sad, I tell you, broth 
 er," she went on. " In vain do I seek 
 sleep it flies far from me." 
 
 " Sister, tell me the cause of your 
 sufferings, and perhaps I can appease 
 the grief that devours you." 
 
 " Can you not guess it ?" 
 
 " I do not understand you." 
 
 She looked at him so sternly that he 
 could not let his eyes fall. 
 
 "On the contrary, you understand 
 me too well, Shaw," she said with a 
 sigh. " Your heart rejoices at this mo 
 ment at the misfortune of the woman 
 you should defend." 
 
 The young man blushed. 
 
 " What can I do?" he murmured 
 faintly. 
 
 "Everything, if you have the firm 
 will," she exclaimed energetically. 
 
 " No," Shaw went on, shaking his 
 head with discouragement; "the per 
 son of whom you speak is the old man's 
 prisoner. 1 cannot contend against my 
 father." 
 
 Ellen smiled contemptuously. 
 
 " You seek in vain to hide your 
 thoughts from me," she said harshly. 
 " 1 read your heart as an open book : 
 your sorrow is feigned, and you really 
 rejoice at the thought that in future you 
 will constantly be by Dona Clara's 
 side." 
 
 " I !" 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. Hea 
 ven 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 
 watches too closely over his prisoner." 
 
 " lie will not distrust you, but allow 
 you to approach her freely." 
 
 " What you ask of me is impossible." 
 
 " Because you will not, Shuw. Re- 
 member that women only love men in 
 proportion to the sacrifices they make 
 for them : they despise cowards." 
 
 " But how to save her ]" 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 131 
 
 " That is your affair, Shaw." 
 
 " At least give me some advice which 
 vrill help me to escape from the difficult 
 position in which I find myself." 
 
 " In such senous circumstances your 
 heart must guide you, and you must 
 only ask counsel of it." 
 
 " But the old one ?" Shaw said hesi 
 tatingly. 
 
 " Our father will not know your 
 movements. 1 take on myself to pre 
 vent him noticing them." 
 
 " Good !" the young man remarked, 
 half convinced; "but I do not know 
 where the maiden is hidden." 
 
 " I will tell you, if you swear to do 
 all in your power to save her." 
 
 " I swear to obey you, Ellen. If I 
 do not succeed in carrying the girl off, 1 
 will at any rate employ all my intellect 
 to obtain that result. Speak, then, 
 without fear." 
 
 " Dona Clara is confined at the Rancho 
 del Coyote : she was intrusted to An 
 dres Garote." 
 
 " Ah, ah !" the young man said, as if 
 speaking to himself, " I did not fancy 
 her so near us." 
 
 " You will save her ]" 
 
 " At all events I will try to free her 
 from the hands of the man who guards 
 her." 
 
 " Good !" the maiden remarked ; " I 
 now recognise you. Lose no time : my 
 father's absence alarms me. Perhaps 
 at this moment he is preparing a safer 
 hiding-place for his prisoner." 
 
 " Your idea is excellent, sister. Who 
 knows whether it is not too late now to 
 tear from the old man the prey he 
 covets]" 
 
 " When do you intend to start?" 
 
 " At once : I have not a moment to 
 lose. If the old man returned I should 
 be compelled to remain here. But who 
 will keep watch while my brothers 
 sleep ]" 
 
 " I will," the maiden answered reso 
 lutely. 
 
 " Whence arises the interest you feel 
 in this woman, sister, as you do not 
 know her ]" the young man asked in 
 surprise. 
 
 " She is a woman, and unhappy. Are 
 not those reasons sufficient]" 
 
 " Perhaps so," Shaw remarked doubt 
 fully. 
 
 " Child !" Ellen muttered, " can you 
 not read in your own heart the monve 
 of my conduct toward this stranger]" 
 
 The young savage started at this re 
 mark. 
 
 " It is true !" he exclaimed passion 
 ately. V Pardon me, sister! I am 
 mad ; but I love you, and you know 
 me better than I do myself." 
 
 And rising hurriedly, he kissed his 
 sister, threw his rifle over his shoulder, 
 and ran off in the direction of Sante Fe. 
 
 When he had disappeared in the 
 gloom, and tht; 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 XXXVI. 
 
 DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 
 
 RED CEDAR did not remain long un 
 der the effect of the startling insult he 
 had received. Pride, wrath, and, be 
 fore all, the desire to avenge himself 
 restored his strength, and a few min 
 utes after Don Pablo Zarate's departure 
 the squatter had regained all his cool 
 ness and audacity. 
 
 " You see, senor padre," he said, ad 
 dressing 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 utmost import 
 ance 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 Fe for you to venture 
 to show it in the streets without im 
 prudence." 
 
 " Hum !" the monk muttered, " that 
 demon, whom I fancied dead, is a rude 
 adversary. Fortunately we shall soon 
 have nothing more to fear from his 
 father, for 1 hardly know how we 
 should get out of it." 
 
 " If the son has escaped us," Red 
 
132 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 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 further embarrassment." 
 
 " I wish it most earnestly, canaries ! 
 for he is a determined man ; but I con 
 fess to you that 1 shall not be entirely 
 at my ease till 1 have seen him fall be- 
 ueath the bullets of the soldiers." 
 
 " You will not have lonj; 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 gov 
 ernor has an imposing force at his dis 
 posal he will no longer fear a revolt on 
 the part of the troops, and give the or 
 der 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 placer by this time, and been 
 safe from the vengeance of our ene 
 mies." 
 
 "Patience, senor padre; all is for 
 the best, perhaps, trust to me. Andres, 
 Kiy horse." 
 
 " You will start at once, then ?" 
 
 " Yes. I recommend you to watch 
 carefully over our prisoner." 
 
 The monk shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " Our affairs are tolerably well em 
 barrassed already ; then why burden 
 ourselves with a woman ?" 
 
 The squatter frowned. 
 
 " That is my business," he exclaimed 
 in a peremptory tone. " Keep all 
 stupid observations to yourself. A 
 thousand devils ! I know what 1 am 
 about. That woman will possibly 
 prove our safeguard at a later date." 
 
 And mounting his horse, Red Cedar 
 galloped out of Santa Fe. 
 
 " Hum !" Andres Garote said as he 
 watched him depart, " what a diaboli 
 cal eye ! Though I have known him 
 several years, I never saw him like that 
 before. How will all this end T' 
 
 Without further remarks he arranged 
 matters in the rancho, repairing as well 
 as he could the disorder caused by the 
 previous struggle ; then he took a look 
 round him. 
 
 The monk, with his elbows on the 
 table and a cigarette in his mouth, was 
 drinking the fluid left in the bottle, 
 doubtless to console himself for the 
 navajada with which Don Pablo had 
 favored him. 
 
 " Why, senor padre," the ranchero 
 said in an insinuating voice, " do you 
 know that it is hardly five o'clock?'' 
 
 " Do you think so ?" the other an 
 swered for the sake of saying some 
 thing. 
 
 " Does not the time seem to you to 
 go very slowly ?" 
 
 " Extraordinarily so." 
 
 " It you liked we could easily shorten 
 it." 
 
 " In what way ?" 
 
 " Oh, for instance, with these." 
 
 And Andres drew from his boot a 
 pack of greasy cards, which he compla 
 cently spread out on the t;ible. 
 
 " Ah ! that is a good idea," the monk 
 exclaimed with sparkling eyes. " Let 
 us have a game of monte." 
 
 " At your orders." 
 
 " Don. Andres, you are a most 
 worthy gentlemen. What shall we 
 play for?" 
 
 " Ah, hang it ! that is true ; we must 
 play for something," tbe ranchero said, 
 scratching his head. 
 
 " The merest trifle, simply to render 
 the game interesting." 
 
 " Yes, but to do that man must pos 
 sess the trifle." 
 
 " Do not let that trouble you. If 
 you permit me I will make you a pro 
 posal." 
 
 " Do so, senor. You are a remark 
 able clever man, and can have none but 
 bright ideas." 
 
 The monk bowed to his flattering in 
 sinuation. 
 
 " This is it : we will play, if you like 
 for the share of the gold we shall re 
 ceive when we reach the placer." 
 
 " Done !" the ranchero shouted en 
 thusiastically. 
 
 " Well," the monk said, irawing 
 from his pocket a pack of cards no less 
 dirty than the others, " we can at any 
 rate kill time." 
 
 " What ! you have cards too ?" the 
 ranchero remarked. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 133 
 
 " Yes, and quite new, as you see." 
 
 Andres bowed with an air of convic 
 tion. 
 
 The game began at once, and soon 
 the two men were completely absorbed 
 in the combinations of the seis de copas, 
 the ow de, bastos, the dos de oro, and the 
 cuatro d'expadax. The monk, who had 
 no necessity to feign at this moment, as 
 lie was in the company of a man tho 
 roughly acquainted with him, yielded 
 frenzied ly to his ruling passion. 
 
 In Mexico, and thr tughout Spanish 
 America, the angelus rings at sunset. 
 In those countries, where there is no 
 twilight, night arrives without transi 
 tion, so that ere the bell has done tink 
 ling the gloom is dense. At the last 
 stroke of the angelus the game ceased, 
 as if by common agreement between 
 the two men, and they threw their 
 cards on the table. 
 
 Although Garote was a passed mas 
 ter in trickery, and had displayed all 
 his science, he found in the monk so 
 skilful an adversary that, after more 
 than three hours of an obstinate strug 
 gle, they both found themselves as lit 
 tle 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 table, bent his body slightly for 
 ward, and while carelessly playing with 
 the cards, which he amused himself by 
 sorting, he said to the ranchero, as he 
 fixed a scrutinizing 1 glance upon him : 
 
 " Shall we talk a little, Don Andres ?" 
 
 " Willingly," the latter replied, who 
 had partly risen, but now fell back on 
 his chair. 
 
 By a secret foreboding Andres 
 Garote had guessed that the monk 
 wished to make some important pro 
 posal to him. Hence, thanks to that 
 in.-tinctive intuition which rogues pos 
 sess for certain things, the two men 
 read each other's thoughts. 
 
 Fray Ambrosio bit his lips, for the 
 gambusino's intelligence startled him. 
 Still the latter bent upon him a glance 
 so full of stupid meaning, that he con 
 tinued to make a confidant of him, as it 
 were involuntarily. 
 
 " Senor Don Andres," he said in a 
 
 soft and insinuating voice, "what a hap- 
 piness that your poor brother, on dy 
 ing, revealed to me the secret of the 
 rich placer, which he concealed even 
 from yourself!" 
 
 " It is true," Andres answered, turn 
 ing slightly pale ; " it was very for 
 tunate, senor padre. For my part, I 
 congratulate myself on it daily." 
 
 " Is it not so ? for without it the im 
 mense fortune would have been lost to 
 you and all else." 
 
 " It is terrible to think of." 
 
 " Well, at this moment I have a hor 
 rible fear." 
 
 " What is it, senor padre?" 
 
 " That we have deferred our depar 
 ture too long, and that some of those 
 European vagabonds we were speaking 
 of ju>t now may have discovered our 
 placer. Those scoundrels have a pecu 
 liar scent for finding gold." 
 
 " Carai, senor padre?' Andres said, 
 striking the table with a feigned grief 
 (for he knew very well what the nvmk 
 was saying was only a clever way of 
 attaining his . real point), " that would 
 drive me mad an affair so well man 
 aged hitherto." 
 
 " That is true," Fray Ambrosio said 
 in corrobo ration. " I could never con 
 sole myself." 
 
 " Demonios ! I have as great an in 
 terest in it as yourself, senor padre," 
 the gambusino replied with superb cool 
 ness. " You know that an uninterrupt 
 ed succession of unfortunate specula 
 tions robbed me of my fortune, and I 
 hoped thus to regain it at a stroke." 
 
 At these words Fray Ambrosio had 
 incredible difficulty in repressing a 
 smile ; for it was a matter of public 
 notoriety that SenoV Don Andres 
 Garote was a lepero, who, as regarded 
 fortune, had never possessed a farthing 
 of patrimony; that throughout his life 
 he had never been aught but an adven 
 turer ; and that the unlucky specula 
 tions of which he complained were 
 simply an ill luck at monte, which had 
 recently stripped him of 20,000 piastres, 
 acquired Heaven alone knew how. But 
 Senor Don Andres Garote was a man 
 of unequalled bravery, gifted with a 
 fertile and ready mind, whom the ac 
 cidents of life had compelled to live for 
 
134 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 a lengthened period on the llanos (prai 
 ries), whose paths he knew as thorough 
 ly as he did the tricks of those who 
 dwelt on them. 
 
 Hence, ;md for many other reasons, 
 Andres Garote was an invaluable com 
 rade for Fray Ambrosio, who had also 
 a bitter revenge to take on the monte- 
 table, because he pretended to place the 
 most sincere faith in what it pleased his 
 honorable mate to say touching his lost 
 fortune. 
 
 " However," he said, after an instant's 
 reflection, " supposing that the placer is 
 intact, and that no one has discovered 
 it, we shall have a long journey to reach 
 it." 
 
 " Yes," the gambusino remarked, sig 
 nificantly ; " the road is difficult and 
 broadcast with perils innumerable." 
 
 " We must march with our chins on 
 our shoulders, and finger on the rifle- 
 trigger " 
 
 " Fight nearly constantly with wild 
 beasts or Indians " 
 
 " In a word, do you not believe that 
 the woman Red Cedar has carried off 
 will prove a horrid bore?" 
 
 " Dreadfully so," Andres made an 
 swer, with an intelligent glance. 
 
 " What is to be done ?" 
 
 " Hang it ! that is difficult to say." 
 
 " Still we cannot run the risk, on ac 
 count of a wretched woman, of having 
 our hair raised by the Indians." 
 
 " That's true enough." 
 
 " Is she here ?" 
 
 " Yes," the gambusino said, pointing 
 to a door ; " in that room." 
 
 " Hum !" 
 
 " You remarked " 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " Could we not " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " It is perhaps difficult," Andres con 
 tinued, with feigned hesitation. 
 
 " Explain yourself." 
 
 The gambusino seemed to make up 
 his mind. 
 
 " Suppose we restore her to her 
 family ?" he said. 
 
 " I have thought of that already." 
 
 " That is strange.'' 
 
 " It must be all managed very 
 cleverly." 
 
 " And the relations pay a proper ran 
 som." 
 
 " That is what I meant to say." 
 
 There was a silence. 
 
 Decidedly these two honorable per 
 sons were made to understand one 
 another. 
 
 "But who is to undertake this deli 
 cate mission ?" asked the monk. 
 
 " I, con mil dernonios !" the gambu 
 sino exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with 
 jrreed at the thought of the rich ransom 
 he would demand. 
 
 " But if Red Cedar were to find out," 
 the monk remarked, " that we surren 
 dered his prisoner ?" 
 
 " Who will tell him?" 
 
 " I am sure I shan't." 
 
 " Nor I." 
 
 '' It is very easy ; the girl will have 
 escaped." 
 
 " Quite true." 
 
 " Do not let us lose time, then. You 
 have a horse ?" 
 
 " I have two." 
 
 " Bravo ! You will place Dona Clara 
 on one, and mount the other yourself." 
 
 " And go straight to the Hacienda de 
 la Noria." 
 
 "That is it. 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." 
 
 " Famous ! In that way we run no 
 risk of not reaching the placer, as our 
 party will only consist of men." 
 
 " Excellently reasoned !" 
 
 Andres Garote rose with a smile 
 which would have caused the monk to 
 reflect, had 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 men, who were carrying on a 
 mutual deceit, none save themselves 
 could have said. 
 
 The gambusino approached the door 
 of the room where Dona Clara was con 
 fined, and put the key in the lock. At 
 this moment two vigorous blows were 
 dealt on the door of the rancho, which 
 had been carefully bolted after Red 
 Cedar's departure. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 135 
 
 The two accomplices started. 
 
 " Must I open 1 ?" Andres asked. 
 
 " Yes," the monk answered ; " hesi 
 tation or refusal might create alarm. 
 In' our position we must foresee every 
 thing." 
 
 The ranchero 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 confederates exchanged a 
 glance of vexation on recognising him, 
 for he was no other than Shaw, Red 
 Cedar's youngest son. 
 
 "I am afraid I disturb you, gentle 
 men," 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 
 butacca. 
 
 " You are very late at Santa Fe," the 
 monk remarked. 
 
 " It is true," the American said, with 
 some embarrassment; "I am looking 
 for my father, and fancied 1 should find 
 him here." 
 
 " He was so a few hours back, but 
 he was obliged to leave us." 
 
 " Ah !" 
 
 This exclamation was rather drawn 
 from the young man by the necessity 
 he felt of replying, than through any 
 interest he took in the information 
 afforded him. He was evidently pre 
 occupied ; but Fray Ambrosio did not 
 appear to notice it, as he continued : 
 
 " Yes : it appears that his Excellency 
 the Governor ordered your father to go 
 and meet a regiment of dragoons in 
 tended to reinforce the garrison, and 
 hasten its march." 
 
 18 That is true ; I forgot it." 
 
 The monk and the miner did not at 
 all understand the American's conduct, 
 and lost themselves in conjectures as to 
 the reasons that brought him to the 
 rancho. They guessed instinctively 
 that what he said about his father was 
 only a pretext or means of introduction ; 
 and that a powerful motive, he would 
 not or dared not avow, had brought 
 
 For his part, the young man, in com 
 ing to the Rancho del Coyote, where he 
 knew that Duna Clara was imprisoned, 
 expected to find Andres alone, with 
 whom he hoped to come to an under 
 standing in 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 lied Cedar's providential 
 absence, which offered him an opportu 
 nity he could hardly dare to hope again 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 A STORMY DISCUSSION. 
 
 SHAW was not timid, as we have said, 
 he ought rather be accused of the op 
 posite excess ; he was not the man, once 
 his resolution was formed, to 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 : 
 
 " lie frank, my presence here at this 
 hour astonishes you, and you ask your 
 selves what cause can have brought 
 me." 
 
 " Sir," the monk said, with a certain 
 degree of hesitation rendered highly 
 natural by the young man's tone. 
 
 " Pardon me," Shaw exclaimed, inter 
 rupting him, " the cause you will seek 
 in vain. 1 will tell you : 1 have coine 
 to deliver Dona Clara." 
 
 "Can it be possible?" the two men 
 exclaimed with stupefaction. 
 
 " It is so ; whether you like it or not, 
 I care little. 1 am the jnan to hold my 
 own against both of you, and no one 
 can prevent me restoring the maiden to 
 her father, as 1 have resolved on 
 doing." 
 
 " What do I hear?" said Frt.y Am 
 brosio. 
 
 " Hum !" the young man continued 
 quickly, " believe me, do not attempt 
 any useless resistance, for 1 have re 
 solved, if needs must, to pass over your 
 bodies to success." 
 
 " But we have not the slightest 
 wish " 
 
136 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " Take care," he interrupted him in f 
 voice full of menace and frowning, " 
 will only leave this house accomplice 
 by her 1 wish to save." 
 
 " Sir," the monk remarked, in ai 
 authoritative voice which momentarily 
 quelled the young savage, " two words 
 of explanation." 
 
 " Make haste !" he answered, " for I 
 warn you that my patience is exhaust 
 ed." 
 
 " I do not insist on your listening an) 
 length of time. You have come hero 
 }ou say, with the intention of deliver 
 ing Dona Clara?' 
 
 " Yes," he answered impatiently 
 
 " and if yon attempt to oppose it " 
 
 " Pardon me," the monk interrupted 
 * such a determinatiou on your part 
 naturally surprises us." 
 
 "Why so?" the young man said, 
 raising his head haughtily. 
 
 " Because," Fray Arnbrosio answered 
 tranquilly, " You are the son of lied 
 Cedar, and it is at least strange 
 
 that " 
 
 " Enough talking," Shaw exclaimed 
 violently ; " will you or not give me 
 up her 1 have come to seek ?" 
 
 " I muse 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 consti 
 tuted myself if not her <_'uardian, for 
 the dress 1 wear forbids that her de 
 fender ; in tha-t 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 de 
 mand her surrender to you, and what 
 your object is in acting thus ?" 
 
 The young man had listened to those 
 remarks with an impatience that be 
 came momentarily more visible ; it 
 could be been that he made superhuman 
 efforts to restrain himself. When the 
 monk stopped, he looked at him for a 
 moment with a strange expression, 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 Dona Clara to me," he 
 said, in a low and menacing voice. 
 
 Fray Ambrosio had attentively fol 
 lowed all the American's movements, 
 
 'and when the latter put the pisljl muz 
 zles to his chest, the monk, with an ac 
 tion rapid as lightning, also drew two 
 pistols from his girdle, and placed them, 
 on his adversary's chest. 
 
 There was a moment of supreme ex 
 pectation, of indescribable agony ; the' 
 two men were motionless, face to face, 
 panting, each with his fingers on a trig 
 ger, pale, and their brows dank with' 
 cold perspiration. 
 
 Andres Garote, his lips curled by an 
 ironical smile, and his arms crossed, 
 carelessly leaned against a table, watch 
 ing this scene which had for him all the 
 attractions of a play. 
 
 All at once the dx>r of the rancho, 
 which had not been fastened again after 
 the squatter's entry was violently 
 thrown back and a man appeared. 
 
 It was Father Seraphin. At a glance 
 he judged the position and boldly threw 
 himself between the foemen, hurling 
 them back, but not uttering a word. 
 
 The two men recoiltd, and lowered 
 their weapons, but continued to men 
 ace each other with their glances. 
 
 "What!" the missionary said in a 
 deep voice, " have 1 arrived just in time 
 to prevent a double murder, gentle 
 men ? In heaven's name, hide those 
 homicidal weapons ; do not stand oppo 
 site each other like wild beasts prepar 
 ing for a leap." 
 
 " Withdraw, father; you have noth 
 ing to do here. Let me treat this man 
 as he deserves," the squatter answered, 
 asting at the missionary a ferocious 
 glance " his life belongs to me." 
 
 "Young man," the priest replied, 
 
 ' the life of a fellow being belongs only 
 
 to God, who has the right to deprive. 
 
 lim of it ; lower your weapons" and 
 
 urn ing to Fray Ambrosio, he said to 
 
 lim in a cutting voice, "and you who 
 
 dishonor the frock you wear, throw 
 
 away those pistols which sully your 
 
 lands a minister of the altar should 
 
 lot employ other weapons than the 
 
 jospel." 
 
 The monk bowed, and caused his 
 )istols to disappear, saying iu a soft 
 and cautious voice : 
 
 " My father, 1 was compelled to defend 
 ny life which that maniac assailed, 
 leaven is my witness that I reprov* 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 these violent measures, too frequently 
 employed in this unhappy country ; but 
 this man came into the house with 
 threats on his lips ; he insisted on our 
 delivering a wretched girl whom this 
 cabulleru," he said, pointing to the 
 gambusino, "and myself did not think 
 proper to surrender." 
 
 Andres corroborated the monk's 
 words by a nod of the head. 
 
 " I wish to save that young girl from 
 your hands," Shaw said, " and restore 
 her to her father." 
 
 " Of whom are you speaking, my 
 friend ?'' the missionary asked with a 
 secret beating of his heart. 
 
 " Of whom should I speak, save Do 
 na Clara de Zarate, whom these villains 
 retain here by force ?" 
 
 " Can it be possible ?" Father Sera- 
 phin exclaimed in amazement. " Dona 
 Clara here ?" 
 
 " Ask those men," Shaw answered, 
 roughly, as he angrily struck the butt of 
 his rifle against the ground. 
 
 "Is it true 1 ?" the priest inquired. 
 
 " It is," the gambusino answered. 
 
 Father Seraphin frowned, and his 
 pale forehead was covered with febrile 
 ruddiness. 
 
 " Sir," he said, in a voice choking with 
 indignation, " 1 summon you, in the 
 name of that God whom you serve, and 
 whose minister you lay claim to being, 
 to restore at once to liberty the hapless 
 girl whom you have so unworthily im 
 prisoned, in defiance of all law^, 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 : 
 
 " Father, you are mistaken as regards 
 myself. I had nothing to do with the 
 carrying olf of that poor child, which 
 on the contrary, I opposed to the ut 
 most of my power ; and that is so true, 
 father," he added, " that at the moment 
 when this young madman arrived, the 
 worthy gambusino and myself had re 
 solved, at all risks, on restoring Dona 
 Clara to her family." 
 
 "I should wish to believe you, sir ; 
 if I am mistaken, as you say, you will 
 forgive me, for appearances were aga'nst 
 
 you ; it only depends on yourself to 
 produce a perfect justification by carry 
 ing out my wishes." 
 
 " You shall be satisfied, father," the 
 monk replied. 
 
 At a signal from him Garote left the 
 room. 
 
 During the few words interchanged 
 between the two men, Shaw remained 
 motionless, hesitating, not knowing what 
 he ought to do ; but he suddenly made 
 up his mind, threw his rifle ov<:r his 
 shoulcjer, and turned to the missionary. 
 
 " Father," he said respectfully, " my 
 presence is now needless here. Fare 
 well; my departure will prove to you 
 the purity of my intentions." 
 
 And turning suddenly on his heel, he 
 hurried out of the rancho. 
 
 A few moments after his departure 
 the gambusino returned, Dona Clara 
 following him. 
 
 Dona Clara no longer wore the dress 
 of the whites, for Red Cedar, in order 
 to render her unrecognisable, had com 
 pelled her to don the Indian garb, which 
 the maiden wore with an innate grace 
 which heightened its strange elegance. 
 
 Like all Indian squaws, she was at 
 tired in two white chemises of striped 
 calico the one fastened around the 
 neck, fell to the hips ; while the other, 
 drawn in at the waist, descended to her 
 ankles. Her neck was adorned with 
 collars of fine pearls, mingled with those 
 small shells called wampum, and em 
 ployed by the Indians as money. Her 
 arms and ankles were surrounded by 
 wide circles of gold, and a small diadern 
 of the same metal relieved the pale tint 
 of her forehead. Moccasins of doer- 
 hide, embroidered with wool and beads 
 of every color imprisoned her small and 
 high-arched feet. 
 
 As she entered the room, a shadow 
 of melancholy and sadness spread over 
 her face, adding, were that possible, a 
 further charm to her person. 
 
 On seeing the missionary, Dona Clara 
 uttered a cry of joy, and rushed toward 
 him, fell into his arms, and murmured 
 in a heart-rending voice : 
 
 " Father ! save me ! save me !" 
 
 "Be calm, my daughter !" the priest 
 said to her, gently. " You have nothing 
 more to fear' now that I am near you." 
 
138 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " Come !" she exclaimed, wildly, " let 
 us fly from this accursed house, in 
 which I have suffered so greatly." 
 
 "Yes, my daughter, we will go; set 
 your mind at rest." 
 
 "You spe, father," Fray Ambrosio 
 said, hypocritically, " that I did not de- 
 ceis-e you.'' 
 
 The missionary cast at the monk a 
 glance of undefinable meaning. 
 
 " 1 trust that you spoke truly," he 
 replied ; " the God who gauges hearts 
 will judge you according to works. 1 
 will rescue this maiden at once." 
 
 " Do so, father; I am happy to know 
 her under your protection." 
 
 And picking up the cloak which Don 
 Pablo left after blinding Red Cedar, he 
 placed it delicately on the shuddering 
 shoulders of Dona Clara, in order to 
 conceal her hid. an garb. Father Sera- 
 phin drew her arm through his own, 
 and led her from the rancho. Ere 
 long they disappeared in the darkness. 
 
 Fray Ambrosio 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, Senor Padre, of 
 all that has happened ?" 
 
 " Perhaps things are better as thev 
 are." 
 
 " And Red Cedar ?" 
 
 " I undertake to render ourselves as 
 white in his sight as the snows of the 
 Giffre de Perote." 
 
 " Hum ! it will be difficult." 
 
 " Perhaps so." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE MYSTERY. 
 
 ON leaving the Rancho del Coj'ote, 
 Red Cedar dug his spurs into his horse's 
 flanks, and galloped in 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 sus 
 picious 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 evi 
 dently a signal for the squatter, for so 
 soon as he, came to the house he stop- 
 ped and dismounted, attached his horse 
 to a larch-tree, and prudently conceal 
 ing 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 en 
 chantment. 
 
 The night was gloomy, only a few 
 stars studded the vault of heaven ; a 
 leaden silence brooded over the plain, 
 which appeared quite solitary. 
 
 At this moment a voice could be 
 heard from the house which Red Cedur 
 was watching so carefully. 
 
 The squatter listened ; the speaker 
 leaned for a second out of the window 
 looked cautiously round, and disappear 
 ed muttering loud enough for the 
 American to overhear : 
 
 " All is quiet in the neighborhood." 
 
 " Still," the squatter said, without 
 showing himself, "the coyotes prowl 
 about the plain.'' 
 
 " Are you conr.ing or going ]" the 
 man at the window continued. 
 
 " Both," the squatter answered, still 
 hidden behind his bush. 
 
 " You can come on, for you are ex 
 pected." 
 
 " I know it ; hence here I am." 
 
 While making this answer, the squat 
 ter left his hiding-place, and placed him 
 self before the door with folded arms, 
 like a man who has nothing to fear. 
 
 The door was cautiously opened ; a 
 man emerged, carefully wrapped up in 
 a wide cloak, which only allowed 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 you reflected ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And what is the result of your re 
 flections ?" 
 
 " I refuse." 
 
 " Still ?" 
 . " More than ever." 
 
 " Take care;" 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 139 
 
 " I do not care, Don Melchior, for '. 
 am n<t 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 
 " Let us return to our business." 
 " It is simple give and give." 
 " Hum ! You get to work very fast 
 unfortunately it cannot be so." 
 " Why not?" 
 
 " Why, because I am growing tirec 
 of constantly taking in my nets game 
 by which others profit, and which ] 
 ought to keep as a safeguard." 
 
 ' You call that girl a guarantee ?" 
 " By Heaven ! what else do you mean 
 to make of her ?" 
 
 " Do not compare me with you, 
 scoundrel !" 
 
 " Where is the difference between 
 us? I am a scoundrel, I grant; but, 
 by heaven ! you are another, my mas 
 ter, however powerful you may be." 
 
 " Listen, caballero !" the stranger an 
 swered, in a cutting voice. "I will 
 lose no more of my time in discoursing 
 with you. i want that girl, and wi 
 have her, whatever you may do to pre 
 vent me." 
 
 " Good ; in that case you declare war 
 against me ?" the squatter said, with a 
 certain tinge of alarm, which he tried in 
 vain to conceal. 
 
 The stranger shrugged his shoulders. 
 "We have known one another long 
 enough to be perfectly well acquainted ; 
 we can only be friends or foes. Is not 
 that your opinion?" 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, then, hand Dona Clara over 
 to me, and 1 will give you the papers 
 
 which " 
 
 " Enough !" the squatter said, sharp 
 ly. " Have you those papers about 
 you?" 
 
 The stranger burst into a laugh. 
 "Do you take rne for such a fool?" 
 he said. 
 
 " I do not understand you." 
 " I will not insult you by believing 
 you. No, I have not those papers 
 about me. I am not such an ass as to 
 risk assassination at your hands." 
 " What would your death profit me 1" 
 
 " Hang it all ! if it were only my 
 scalp you would be sure to receive at 
 least fifty dollars for it." 
 
 At this mournful jest the squatter be 
 gan laugbibg. 
 
 " 1 did not think of that," he said, 
 
 " Listen to me, Red Cedar, and print 
 the words on your memory." 
 " Speak." 
 
 " In a month from to-day, hour for 
 hour, day for day, wherever you may 
 be, I shall present myself to you." 
 
 "For what purpose?' the squatter 
 asked impudently. 
 
 ' To repeat my demand with reference 
 to the prisoner." 
 
 " Then, as now, I shall reply No, my 
 master." 
 
 " Perhaps so. Live and learn. Now 
 good-bye, and may the devil, your pa 
 tron saint, prese ve you in good health 
 until our next meeting. You know; 
 that I have you tight ; so consider 
 yourself warned.'' 
 
 " Good, good ! threats do not fright- 
 n me. Demonios, since I have been 
 traversing the desert, 1 have found my 
 self opposed to enemies quite as dan 
 gerous as you, and yet 1 managed to 
 jet quit of them." 
 
 "That is possible, Red Cedar; but 
 aelieve me, meditate carefully on my 
 words." 
 
 " I repeat that your threats do not 
 righten me." 
 
 " I do not threaten, I warn you." 
 " Hum ! W T ell, then, listen in your 
 urn. In the desert, every man armed 
 with a good rifle has nothing to fear 
 rom whomsoever." 
 
 ' What next?" the stranger inter- 
 upted him, in a sarcastic voice. 
 
 " Well, my rifle is excellent, I have 
 a sure aim, and I say no more." 
 
 " Nonsense, you are mad ! 1 defy 
 ou to kill ine !" 
 
 " Hang it, though, what can be your 
 motive for wishing to have this girl in 
 our power ?" 
 
 " That is no affair of yours. I have 
 no explanations due to you. Enough 
 or you to know that I want her." 
 " You shall not have her." 
 "We shall see. Goodbye. Bed Ce- 
 lar." 
 
140 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " Good-bye, Don Melchior, or wnat- 
 ever be the name you please to bear." 
 
 The stranger made no reply, but 
 turned his head with a gesture of con 
 tempt, and whistled. 
 
 A man emerged from the house, 
 holding a horse by the bridle ; at one 
 bound the stranger reached the saddle, 
 and ordered the servant to withdraw. 
 
 "Farewell, Compadre, remember our 
 appointment." 
 
 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. 
 
 " Oh," he muttered in a low voice, 
 " demon ! shall I never free myself 
 from your clutches ?" 
 
 And with a motion rapid as thought 
 he shouldered his rifle, and aimed at 
 the departing man. All at once the 
 latter turned his horse, and stood right 
 opposite Red Cedar. 
 
 " Mind not to miss me !" he cried, 
 with a burst of laughter that caused a 
 cold perspiration 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 1 
 only had the papers !" 
 
 The stranger waited for a moment 
 calm and motionless ; then he started 
 again and soon disappeared in the dark 
 ness. 
 
 Red Cedar stood with his body bow 
 ed 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 aston 
 ished 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 mo 
 ment 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 
 squatter's colloquy with his strange 
 friend. 
 
 Valentine had done the same ; but, 
 unfortunately, the party had been great 
 ly di appointed, for the squatter's con 
 versation 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 his forehead. " I do not know 
 where 1 have seen the man just now talk 
 ing here with Red Cedar, but I have a 
 vague reminiscence of having met him 
 before, where and under what circum 
 stance I try, though in vain, to recal." 
 
 " What shall we do ?" Don Pablo 
 asked. 
 
 "Hang it, what we agreed on;" and 
 turning to the chief, he said, " Good 
 luck, brother, 1 believe we shall save 
 our friend." 
 
 " I am sure of it," the Indian replied, 
 laconically. 
 
 " May heaven hear you, brother," 
 Valentine continued. " Act ! while, on 
 your side, you watch the town for fear 
 of treason. We then will ambush our 
 selves on the road the gambusinos 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 Seraph'in !" Valentine said 
 in a surprise. " What chance brings 
 you this way ?" 
 
 " I was looking for you." 
 
 " What do you want with me?" 
 
 "To give you some <jood news." 
 
 " Speak ! speak quickly, father ! Has 
 Don Miguel left his prison ?" 
 1 " Alas ! not yet ; but his daughter is 
 free !" 
 
 " Dona Clara free !" Valentine shout 
 ed joyously. "Heaven be blessed! 
 where is she ?" 
 
 " She is temporarily in safety, be as 
 sured of that; but let me give you a 
 warning, which may perhaps prove use 
 ful to you." 
 
 " Speak ! speak !" 
 
 " By order of the governor, Red 
 Cedar has gone to meet the regiment of 
 dragoons, coining up to reinforce the 
 Santa Fe garrison." 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 141 
 
 " Caramba" Valentine said, " are 
 yon sure of your statement, father?" 
 
 " 1 am : in my presence, the men 
 who carried 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," Curu 
 milla answered, curtly. 
 
 " Ah !" Valentine exclaimed, and 
 tapping his forehead with delight, "that 
 is true, chief; you save us." 
 
 Curumilla smiled with pleasure. 
 
 " 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, 
 whom 1 have not seen so long, and am 
 eager to embrace." 
 
 " Do so," Valentine answered. " At 
 daybreak you will bring Dona Clara to 
 the camp, that I may myself deliver 
 her to her father." 
 , " That is agreed." 
 
 Valentine, Curumilla, and Unicorn 
 rushed out in the plain, while Father 
 Seraphin and Don Pablo returned to 
 the town. 
 
 The two gentlemen, anxious to join 
 the girl, did not perceive that they were 
 closely watched by an individual, who 
 followed their every movement, while 
 careful not to be seen by them. 
 
 It was Nathan, Red Cedar's eldest 
 son. 
 
 How come 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 limpid, the atmosphere so 
 transparent as to allow the slightest 
 varieties of the landscape to be distin 
 guished. 
 
 About four leagues from Santa Fe, a 
 numerous band of horsemen was fol 
 lowing a path scarce, traced in the tall 
 grass, which approached the town with 
 9 
 
 countless turns and windings. These 
 horsemen, who marched in rather de 
 cent order, were nearly bOO in number, 
 and formed the regiment of dragoons 
 so anxiously expected by General Ven 
 tura. 
 
 About ten paces ahead rode four or 
 five officers gaily chatting together, 
 among whom was the colonel. The re 
 giment continued its march slowly, ad 
 vancing cautiously, through fear of los 
 ing its way in a perfectly strange coun 
 try. The colonel and his officers who 
 h.-id always fought in the States border 
 ing the Atlantic, found themselves now 
 for the first time in these savage coun 
 tries. 
 
 " Caballeros," the colonel suddenly 
 remarked, " I confess to you that I am, 
 completely ignorant as to our where 
 abouts. Can any one of you throw a 
 light on the subject ? This road is fear 
 ful, it seems to lead nowhere, and I ana 
 afraid we have lost our way." 
 
 " We are all as ignorant as yourself 
 on that head, colonel," an officer an 
 swered, " not one of us could say 
 where we are." 
 
 " On my word !" the colonel went 
 on, taking a glance of satisfaction 
 around, " we are not in a hurry to 
 reach Santa Fe. I suppose it makes 
 little difference whether we get there to 
 day or to-morrow. I believe that the 
 best thing for us to do is to bivouac here 
 for the rest of the night ; at sunrise we 
 will start again." 
 
 " You are right, colonel," the officer 
 said, whom he seemed to address most 
 particularly, " a few hours' delay is of 
 no consequence, and we run the risk of 
 going out of our course." 
 
 " Give the order to halt." 
 
 The officer immediately obeyed ; 
 the soldiers, wearied with a long night's 
 march, greeted with shouts of joy the 
 order to stop. They dismounted. The 
 horses were unsaddled and picketted, 
 camp.fires were lighted, in less than an 
 hour the bivouac was arranged. 
 
 The colonel, in desiring to camp for 
 the night, had a more serious fear than 
 that of losing his way ; it was that of 
 falling in with a party of Indios braws. 
 
 The colonel was brave, and had 
 proved it on many occasions j grown 
 
143 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 gray in harness, he was an old soldier 
 who feared nothing in the world partic 
 ularly ; but accustomed to warfare in 
 the interior of the Republic, had never 
 seen opposed to him any but civilized 
 toes, he professed' for the Indians that 
 instinctive fear which all the Mexicans 
 entertain, and he would not risk a fight 
 with an Apache or Comanche war party 
 in the middle of the night, in a country 
 whose, resources he did not know, and 
 run the risk of having his regiment cut 
 to pieces by such Protean enemies. 
 
 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, as soon as the bivouac 
 was established, aud the sentries posted, 
 the colonel sent off a dozen resolute men 
 under an Alferez, to trot up the country 
 and try to procure a guide. 
 
 We will observe, in passing, that in 
 Spanish America, so soon as you le ive 
 the capitals, such as Lima, or Mexico, 
 loads, such as we understand them in 
 Europe, no longer exist; you only find 
 paths traced, in nine cases out of ten, 
 by the foot-prints of wild-beasts, and 
 which are so entangled one with the 
 other, that, unless you have been long 
 accustomed to them, it is almost im 
 possible to find your way. 
 
 The Spaniards, we grant, laid out wide 
 and firm roads, but since the War of 
 Independence, they had been cut up, 
 deteriorated and so abandoned by the 
 neglect of the ephemeral governments 
 that have followed each other in Mexico, 
 that with the exception of the great 
 highways of communication in the in 
 terior of the country, the rest had dis 
 appeared under the herbage. 
 
 The little squad of troopers sent out 
 to beat up the country had started at a 
 gallop, but it soon reduced its pace, and 
 the soldiers and sergeant began laugh 
 ing and talking, caring little for the im 
 portant mission with which they were 
 intrusted. 
 
 The moon rose on the horizon, shed 
 ding her fantastic rays over the ground. 
 As we have said, it was one of those 
 lovely nights of the American desert 
 full of strange odors. A majestic silence 
 
 hovered over the plain, only disturbed 
 at intervals by those sounds, without 
 any known cause, which are heard on 
 the savannahs, and which seem to be 
 the respiration of the sleeping world. 
 
 Suddenly the mocking-bird sung 
 twice, and its plaintive and soft song 
 resounded melodiously through the air. 
 
 " Hallo," one of the dragoons said, 
 addressing his comrade, " that's a bird 
 that sings very late." 
 
 "An evil omen," the other said with 
 a shake of his head. 
 
 " Canarios ! what omen are you talk 
 ing about, comrade ?" 
 
 " I have always heard say," the second 
 speaker remarked sententiously, " that 
 when you hear a bird sing on your left 
 at night it predicts misfortune." 
 
 " Satan confound you and your prog 
 nostics." 
 
 At this moment the song, which ap 
 peared previously some distance off, 
 could be heard much more close, and 
 seemed to come from some trees on the 
 side of the path the dragoons were fol 
 lowing. 
 
 The Alferez raised his head and st^p- 
 ped, as if mechanically trying to exf lain 
 the sound that smote his ears; bit 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 sus 
 picious ; as for the guide they sought, 
 it is needless to say that they had not 
 found him, for they had not met a 
 living soul. 
 
 The Alferez was about to give orders 
 to return to camp, when one of the 
 troopers pointed out to him some hea 
 vy, black forms, apparently prowling 
 about suspiciously. 
 
 " What on earth can that be ?" the 
 officer asked, after carefully examining 
 what was pointed out to him. 
 
 " Caspita," one of the dragoons ex 
 claimed, " that is easy to see ; they are 
 browsing deer !" 
 
 " Deer !" said the Alferez, in whom, 
 the hunter's instinct was suddenly 
 aroused, " there are at least thirty ; sup 
 pose we try to catch some." 
 " It is difficult." 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 143 
 
 "Pshaw!" another soldier shouted, 
 " it is light enough for each of us to 
 send them a bullet." 
 
 " You must by no means use your 
 carbines," the Alferez interposed sharp 
 ly ; "if our shots, re-echoed through the 
 mountains, caught the ears of the In 
 dians, who are probably ambushed in 
 the thickets, we should be ruined." 
 
 " What is to be done, then ?" 
 
 " Lasso them, caspita, as you wish to 
 try and catch them." 
 
 " That is true ; I did not think of 
 that." 
 
 The dragoons, delighted at the oppor 
 tunity of indulging in their favorite 
 sport, dismounted, fastened their horses 
 to the road-side trees and seized their 
 lassos. They then advanced cautiously 
 toward the deer, which continued graz 
 ing tranquilly, without appearing to 
 suspect that enemies were so near them. 
 On arriving at a short distance from 
 the game, the dragoons separated in 
 order to have room for whirling their 
 lassos, and making a covering of each 
 tree, they managed to approach within 
 fifteen paces of the animals. Then they 
 stopped, exchanged glances, carefully 
 calculated the distance, and, at a signal 
 from their leader, sent their lassos 
 whizzing through the air. 
 
 A strange thing happened at this mo 
 ment, however. 
 
 All the deer-hides fell simultaneously 
 to the ground, displaying Valentine, 
 Curumilla, and a dozen Comanche war 
 riors, who, profiting by the stupor of 
 the troopers 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 
 vf fun r 
 
 The startled dragoons made no reply, 
 but allowed themselves to be bound ; 
 one alone muttered betweer his teeth : 
 
 " I was quite sure that Villain of a 
 mocking-bird would bring us ill-luck ; 
 it sang on our left. That never de 
 ceives, Canarios !" 
 
 Valentine smiled at this sally. He 
 then placed two fingers in his mouth 
 
 and imitated the cry of the mocking 
 bird with such perfection, that the sol 
 dier looked up at the trees. He had 
 scarce ended, 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. 
 
 A FRIENDLY DISCUSSION. 
 
 AFTER leaving his enemy (for the 
 mysterious man with whom he had so 
 stormy a discussion could be nothing 
 else), Red Cedar set out to join the 
 regiment, and hasten its arrival accord 
 ing to the orders he had received. In 
 spite of himself, the squatter was suffer 
 ing from extraordinary nervousness, and 
 involuntarily he went over the various 
 points of the conversation with the per 
 son who took such precautions in com 
 municating with him. The threats he 
 had proffered recurred to his mind. It 
 appeared as if the bandit, who feared 
 nothing in the world, had good reason, 
 however, for trembling in the presence 
 of the man who, for more than an 
 hour, had crushed him with his irony. 
 
 What reason could be so powerful as 
 to produce so startling a change in this 
 indomitable being? 
 
 No one could have said ; for the 
 squatter was master of his secret, and 
 would have mercilessly killed anybody 
 he suspected of having read even a 
 portion of it. 
 
 The reason was, at any rate, verv 
 powerful ; for after a few minutes of 
 deep thought, his hand let go the reins 
 and his head fell on his breast : the 
 norse, no longer feeling the -curb, stop 
 ped and began nibbling the young tree 
 shoots. 
 
 The squatter did not notice this halt ; 
 he was thinking, and hoarse exclaim-, 
 tions now and then came from his chest, 
 like the growling of a wild beast. At 
 length he raised his head. 
 
 " No," he shouted, as he directed a 
 savage glance at the starlit sky, " any 
 
144 
 
 THE TRAIL- HUNTER. 
 
 struggle with that demon is irn possible. 
 1 must fly, so soon as possible, to the 
 prairies of the far west. I will leave 
 this implacable foe ; I will fly from 
 Li in, as the lion does, carrying off my 
 prey in my claws. I have not a mo 
 ment to lose. What do I care for the 
 Spaniards and their paltry disputes ? 
 General Ventura will seek another 
 emissary, for more important matters 
 claim my attention. 1 must go to the 
 Rancho del Coyote, for there alone I 
 shall find my revenge. Fray Ambrosio 
 and his prisoner can supply me with the 
 weapons I need for the terrible contest 
 1 am compelled towage against that de 
 mon who comes straight from hell, and 
 whom I will send back there." 
 
 Alter 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 savagely around, and, bury 
 ing his spurs in his horse's flanks, he 
 started with the speed of an arrow in 
 the direction of the rancho, which he 
 had left bu" a few hours previously, and 
 where his two accomplices still re 
 mained. 
 
 The rr.Dflk and the gambusmo, delight 
 ed at the unforeseen termination of the 
 scene we recently narrated, delighted 
 above all at having got rid of Dona 
 Clara without being immediately mixed 
 up iu her escape, tranquilly resumed 
 their game of monte, and played with 
 that mental satisfaction produced by 
 the certainty of having nothing to re 
 proach themselves with, disputing with 
 the utmost obstinacy for the few reals 
 they still happened to have in their 
 pockets. 
 
 In the midst of a most interesting 
 game, they heard the furious gallop ot 
 a horse up the paved street. Instinc 
 tively they stopped and listened ; a se 
 cret foreboding seemed to warn tnem 
 that this horse was coming to the ran 
 cho, and that its rider wanted them. 
 
 In truth, neither Fray Ambrosio nor 
 Andres Garote had a quiet conscience, 
 even supposing, which was very doubt 
 ful, that either had a conscience at all, 
 for they felt they were responsible to 
 Red Cedar for Dona Clara. Now that 
 
 the maitien had escaped like a bird fly 
 ing from its cage, their position with 
 their terrible ally appeared to them in 
 all its desperate gravity. They did not 
 conceal from themselves that the squat 
 ter would demand a severe account of 
 their conduct, and despite their cunning 
 and roguishness, they knew not hosv 
 they should get out of it. 
 
 The sharp gallop of the approaching 
 horse heightened their perplexity. They 
 dared not communicate their fears to 
 each other, but they sat with heads bent 
 forward, foreseeing that they would 
 soon have to sustain a very firm attack. 
 
 The horse slopped short before the 
 rancho ; a man dismounted, and the 
 door shook beneath the tremendous 
 blows of his fists. 
 
 " Hum !" the gambusino whispered, 
 as he blew out the solitary candle that 
 illumined the room. " Who the deuce 
 can come at this advanced hour of the 
 night 1 I have a great mind not to 
 open." 
 
 Strange to say, Fray Ambrosio had 
 apparently regained all his serenity. 
 With a smiling face, crossed arms, and 
 back leaned ag.tinst the wall, he seemed 
 to be a perfect stranger to what per 
 plexed his mate so furiously. At Ga- 
 rote's remark an ironical smile played 
 round his pale lips for a second, and he 
 replied with the most perfect indiffer 
 ence 
 
 " You are at liberty to act as you 
 please, gossip ; still 1 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 bat 
 tering it, is very capable of breaking it 
 in, which would be a decided nuisance 
 for you." 
 
 " You speak very much at your ease, 
 Senor Padre," 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." 
 
 " That is possible ; but do you think 
 that, in such a case, you will escape 
 with clean hands ?" 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 145 
 
 Fray Ambrosio looked at him, shrug 
 ged his shoulders, but made no further 
 answer. 
 
 " Will you open, demoniosf" a rough 
 voice shouted. 
 
 " Red Cedar !" both men whispered. 
 
 " 1 arn coming," Andres replied, in a 
 voice which terror caused to tremble. 
 
 He rose unwillingly, and walked 
 slowly towards the door, which the 
 squatter threatened to tear from its 
 hinges. 
 
 " A little patience, Caballero," the 
 gambusino said, in that honeyed voice 
 peculiar to Mexicans when they medi 
 tate some roguery. " Coming, com 
 ing." 
 
 And he began unbarring the door. 
 
 " Make haste !" the squatter howled, 
 " for I am in a hurry." 
 
 "Hum! it is surely he !" the gam 
 busino thought. " Who are you?'' he 
 asked. 
 
 " What ! who am 1 ?" Red Cedar ex 
 claimed, bounding with wrath. " Did 
 you not recognise me, or are you having 
 a game with me?" 
 
 " I never have a game with any one," 
 Andres replied, imperturbably : " but I 
 warn you that, although I fancy I recog 
 nise your voice, I shall not open till vou 
 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 bullet 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 Garute had indulged in a line 
 of reasoning which was far from beinw 
 illogical, and revealed a profound know 
 ledge of the human heart. He had said 
 to himself, that, as he must face Red 
 Cedar's anger, it would be better to let 
 it reach its paroxysm at once so as to 
 have only the decreasing period to en 
 dure. He smiled at the American's 
 sterile attempts, then, and repeated his 
 request. 
 
 " Well, then," the other said, furious 
 
 ly, " I am Red Cedar. Do you recog 
 nise me now, you devil's own Gachu- 
 pino ?" 
 
 " Of course ; I see that I can open 
 without danger to your Excellency." 
 
 And the gambusino hurriedly drew 
 back the bolts. 
 
 Red Cedar rushed into the room with 
 a yell of fury, but Andres had put out 
 the light. The squatter stopped, sur 
 prised by the gloom which prevented 
 him distinguishing any object. 
 
 "Hallo!" he said. " What is the 
 meaning of this darkness 1 I can see 
 nothing." 
 
 " Oaspita /" Andres replied, impu 
 dently, " do you think I amuse myself 
 o' nights by watching the moon ? 1 was 
 asleep, compadre, when you came to 
 arouse me with your infernal hammer 
 ings." 
 
 " That is possible." the squatter re 
 marked ; " but that was no reason for 
 keeping me so long at your door." 
 
 " Prudence is the mother of security. 
 We must not let every comer enter the 
 rancho." 
 
 " Certainly not ; I approve of t! at. 
 Still, you must have recognized my 
 voice." 
 
 " True. Still I might be mistaken ; 
 it is difficult to know any one through 
 the thickness of a door ; that is why I 
 wished you to give your name." 
 
 'Very good, then," Red Cedar suid, 
 as if tired of combating arguments 
 which did not convince him. "And 
 ^vliere is Fray Ambrosio ?" 
 
 " Here, I suppose." 
 
 " He lias not left the rancho ?" 
 
 " No ; unless he took advantage of 
 your arrival to do so." 
 
 " Why should he do that?" 
 
 " I don't know ; you question, and I 
 answer ; that's all." 
 
 " Why does he not speak, if he is 
 here ?" 
 
 " He is possibly asleep." 
 
 " After the row I made, that is high 
 ly improbable." 
 
 " Hang it, he may be a hard sleeper." 
 
 " Hum !" the squatter snorted, suspi 
 ciously ; " light the candle." 
 
 Andres struck a match, and Red 
 Cedar looked eagerly round the room 
 Fray Ambrosio had disappeared. 
 
146 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " Where is the monk '?" the Ameri 
 can asked. 
 
 " I do not know : probably gone." 
 
 The squatter shook his head. 
 
 " All this is not clear," he muttered ; 
 " there is treachery behind it." 
 
 "That is possible," the gambusino 
 answered, calmly. 
 
 Red Cedar bent on Andres eyes that 
 flashed with fury, and roughly seized 
 him by the throat. 
 
 " Answer, scoundrel ?" he shouted. 
 "What has become of Dona Clara?" 
 
 The gambusiuo struggled, though in 
 vain, to escape from the clutch of the 
 squatter, whose fingers entered his flesh, 
 and pressed hirn as in a vice. 
 
 " Let me loose," he panted, " you are 
 choking me !" 
 
 " Where is Dona Clara ?" 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 The squatter squeezed more tightly. 
 
 " You do not know !" he yelled. 
 
 " Aie !" Andres whined, " I tell you 
 I do not know." 
 
 " Malediction !" Red Cedar went on. 
 " T will kill you, picaro, if you are ob 
 stinate." 
 
 " Let that man go, and I will tell you 
 all you wish to know," was said in a 
 iirrn voice by a hunter, who at this mo 
 ment appeared on the threshold. 
 
 The two men turned in amazement. 
 
 " Nathan !" Red Cedar shouted on 
 recognizing his son. " What are you 
 doing here ?" 
 
 " I will tell you, father," the young 
 man said, as he entered the room. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 NATHAN. 
 
 NATHAN was not asleep, as Ellen sup 
 posed, when she urged on Shaw to de 
 vote himself to liberate Dona Clara, and 
 he had listened attentively to the con 
 versation. 
 
 Nathan was a man of about thirty 
 years of age, who, both physically 
 and morally, bore a marked resemblance 
 to his father. Hence the old squatter 
 had concentrated in him all the affection 
 which his uncultivated savage nature 
 was capable of feeling. 
 
 Since the fatal night, when the chief 
 of the Coras had avtuiged himself for 
 the burning of his village and the mur 
 der of its inhabitants, Nathan's character 
 had grown still more gloomy ; a dull 
 and deep hatred boiled in his heart 
 against the whole human race; he only 
 dreamed of assassination : he had sworn 
 in his heart to revenge on all those who 
 fell into his hands the injury one man 
 had inflicted on him ; in a word, Nathan 
 loved none and hated everything. 
 
 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 his rifle over his 
 shoulder, and rushed after his brother. 
 
 Another reason urged him to foil 
 Shaw and Ellen's plans ; he had a double 
 grudge against Don Miguel the first 
 for the stab the Mexican gentlemen had 
 given his father ; the second because 
 Don Miguel had compelled him to leave 
 the forest in which his family had so 
 daringly installed itself. 
 
 Convinced of the importance of the 
 affair, and knowing the v^lue the squat 
 ter attached to carrying off" the maiden, 
 who was a most precious hostage for 
 him, Nathan did not lose a moment, but 
 reached Santa Fe by the most direct 
 route, bounding with the agility of a 
 tiger-cat over the obstacles that beset 
 his path. Presently he reached an 
 isolated house, not fur from which seve 
 ral men were, conversing together in a 
 low voice. Nathan stopped and listen 
 ed ; but he was too far off, and could 
 distinguish nothing. 
 
 The squatter's son, reared in the de 
 sert, was thoroughly versed in all its 
 stratagems ; with the piercing eye of a 
 man accustomed to night journeys in 
 the prairie, he recognized well-known 
 persons, and his mind was at once made 
 up. 
 
 He laid himself on the ground, and 
 following the shadow cast by the moon, 
 lest he might be perceived by the speak 
 ers, he advanced, inch by inch, crawling 
 like a serpent, stopping at intervals lest 
 the waving of the grass might reveal 
 his presence, in short, employing all 
 the precautions usual under such cir- 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 147 
 
 cumstances. At length he reached a 
 clump of Peru trees only a few yard 
 distant from the spot where the men he 
 wished to overhear were standing. H 
 then got up, leaned against the largest 
 tree, and prepared to listen. 
 
 His expectations were not deceived ; 
 though a tew words escaped him here 
 and there, he was near enough perfectly 
 to catch the sense of the conference. 
 This conversation was, in truth, most 
 interesting to him ; a sinister smile lit 
 up his face, and he eagerly clenched the 
 barrel of his rifle. 
 
 Presently the party broke into two. 
 Valentine, Curumilla, and Unicorn, 
 took the road leading to the open coun 
 try, while Don Pablo and Father Sera- 
 phin returned toward the town. 
 
 Valentine and his two friends almost 
 touched the young man as they passed, 
 and he instinctively carried his hands to 
 his pistols ; they even stopped for a mo 
 ment and cast suspicious glances at the 
 clump that concealed their foe. 
 
 While conversing in whispers, Uni 
 corn drew a few branches aside and 
 peered in ; for some seconds Nathan 
 felt, an indescribable agony ; a cold per 
 spiration stood at the root of his hair 
 and the blood coursed to his heart; in 
 a word, he was afraid. He knew that 
 if these men, his mortal enemies, dis 
 covered him, they would be pitiless 
 to him and kill him like a dog. But 
 this apprehension did not last longer 
 than a lightning flash. 
 
 Unicorn carelessly let the leafy cur 
 tain fall again, saying only one word 
 to his comrades: 
 " Nothing." 
 
 The latter resumed their march. 
 " I do not know why," said Valen 
 tine, " but I fancy there is some one 
 hidden there." 
 
 " No," the chief answered, " there 
 is nobody." 
 
 " Well, be it so," the hunter mut 
 tered, with a toss of his head. 
 
 So soon, as he was alone, Nathan 
 drew two or three deep breaths, and 
 started in pursuit of Dona Pablo and 
 the missionary, whom he soon caught up. 
 As they did not suppose they were 
 followed, they were conversing freely 
 together. 
 
 In Spanish America, xvlvre the days 
 are so warm and the nights so fresh, 
 the inhabitants, shut up at home so 
 long as the sun calcines the ground, 
 go out at nightfall to breathe a little 
 pure air ; the streets, deserted in con 
 sequence of the heat, are gradually 
 peopled ; benches are placed before 
 the doors, on which persons recline to 
 smoke and gossip, drink orangeade, 
 strum the guitar, and sing. Frequent 
 ly the entire night is passed in these 
 innocent amusements, and folks do not 
 return home till dawn, in order to 
 indulge in the sleep so grateful after 
 this long watch. Hence the Hispano- 
 Ainerican towns must be especially 
 visited by night, if you wish to judge 
 truthfully the nature of this people 
 a strange composite of the most dis 
 cordant contrasts, who only live for 
 enjoyment, and only accept from ex 
 istence the most intoxicating pleasures. 
 
 Still, on the night to which we re 
 fer, the town of Santa Fe, usually so 
 laughing and chattering, was plunged 
 into a gloomy sadness, the streets were 
 deserted, the doors closed ; no light 
 filtered through the hermetically closed 
 windows ; all slept or at least feigned 
 to sleep. 
 
 The fact was, that Santa Fe was at 
 this moment in a state of mortal agita 
 tion, caused by the condemnation of 
 Don Miguel Zarate, the richest land 
 owner in the province a man who was 
 loved and revered by the whole popu 
 lation. The agitation took its origin in 
 the unexpected apparition of the C<>- 
 manche war detachment those feroci 
 ous enemies whose cruelties have be 
 come proverbial on the Mexican fron 
 tier, and whose presence presaged 
 nothing good. 
 
 Don Pablo and his companion walk 
 ed quickly, like persons anxious to 
 reach a place where they knew they 
 are expected, exchanging but a few 
 words at intervals, whose meaning, 
 however, caught up by the man who 
 followed them, urged them still more 
 not to let them out of sight. They 
 thus traversed the greater part of the 
 town, and on reaching the Calle de la 
 Merced, they stopped at their destina 
 tion a house of handsome aspect. 
 
148 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 A weak light burned at the window 
 of a ground-floor room. By an instinct 
 ive movement, the two gentlemen turn 
 ed round at the moment of entering the 
 house but Nathan had slipped into a 
 doorway, and they did not perceive 
 him. 
 
 Father Seraphin tapped gently ; the 
 door was at once opened, and they went 
 in. 
 
 Nathan stationed himself in the mid 
 dle of the street, with his eye ardently 
 fixed on the only window of the house 
 lit up. 
 
 Ere long, shadows crossed the cur 
 tains. 
 
 " Good!" the young man muttered ; 
 " 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 clutching a bowie-knife. A man 
 was before him, gloomy, silent and 
 wrapped in the thick folds of his cloak. 
 The American started. 
 
 " Go your way," he said in a menac 
 ing voice. 
 
 "What are you doing here?" the 
 stranger asked. 
 
 " How does that concern you ? The 
 street is free to all." 
 
 " No." 
 
 This word was pronounced with a 
 sharp accent. 
 
 Nathan tried in vain to scan the fea 
 tures of the man with whom he had to 
 deal. 
 
 " Give way," he said, " or blood will 
 surely be shed between us." 
 
 As sole reply, the stranger took a 
 pistol in his right hand, a knife in his 
 left. 
 
 " Ah !" Nathan said, mockingly, 
 " you mean fighting." 
 
 " For the last time, withdraw." 
 
 " Nonsense, you are mad, senor Ca- 
 ballero ; the road belongs to all, I tell 
 you. This place suits me, and 1 shall 
 remain." 
 
 " I wish to be alone here ?" 
 
 "You mean to kill me, then?" 
 
 " If 1 must, yes, without hesitation." 
 
 Tile 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. 
 
 Nathan returned his pistol to his belt. 
 " No noise," he said ; " the knife will 
 do; besides, we are in a country where 
 that is the only weapon in use." 
 
 " Be it so," the stranger replied ; 
 " then, you will not give way to me?" 
 " You would laugh at me if I did," 
 the American said with a grin. 
 
 "Then your blood will be on your 
 own head." 
 
 " Or on yours." 
 
 The two foemen each fell back a 
 pace, and stood on guard, with their 
 cloaks rolled round their left arms. 
 
 The moon, veiled by clouds, shed no 
 light; the darkness was perfect; mid 
 night struck from the cathedral ; the 
 voice of the serenos chanting the hour 
 could be heard in the distance, announc 
 ing that all was quiet. 
 
 There was a moment's hesitation, 
 which the enemies employed in scruti 
 nizing each other. 
 
 Suddenly Nathan uttered a hoarse 
 yell rushed on his enemy, and threw 
 his cloak in his face, to put him oti' his 
 guaivl. The stranger parried the stroke 
 dealt him, and replied by another, 
 guarded off with equal dexterity. The 
 two men then seized each other round 
 the waist,and wrestled for some minutes, 
 without uttering a word ; at length the 
 stranger rolled on the ground with a 
 heavy sigh ; Nathan's knife was buried 
 in his chest. 
 
 The American rose with a yell of 
 trjumph his enemy was motionless. 
 
 "Can I have killed him?" Nathan 
 muttered. 
 
 He returned his knife to his vaquera 
 boot, and bent over the wounded man. 
 All at once he started back, for he had 
 recognised 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 ?" 
 
 And, leaving there the body of the 
 young man, who gave no sign of life 
 " Well, Heaven knows, 1 ought not, 
 and could not have hesitated," he said. 
 Shaw lay to all appearance dead, 
 with pale and drawn cheeks, in the 
 centre of the street. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 149 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 THE WOUNDED MAN. 
 
 NATHAN proceeded straight to the 
 Rancho del Coyote, where his unexpect 
 ed arrival 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 asked, " 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 shout 
 ed, as he rushed into the room with 
 discomfited features ; " I felt sure I 
 should discover her." 
 
 Red Cedar looked at him in amaze 
 ment, but the monk did not wince. 
 
 " What has happened to her?" the 
 squatter said presently, as he looked 
 suspiciously from the monk to the gam 
 busino. 
 
 " A very simple matter," Fray Am 
 brosio answered, with an inimitably 
 truthful accent ; " about two hours 
 back your son Shaw came here." 
 
 "Shaw !" the squatter exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes, the youngest of your sons ; he 
 is called so, 1 think ?'' 
 
 "Yes; goon." 
 
 " Very good. He presented himself 
 to us as coming from you to remove 
 our prisoner." 
 
 "And what did you do?" the squat 
 ter asked, impatiently. 
 
 " What could we do ?" 
 
 " Why, oppose the girl's departure." 
 
 " Caxpita ! do you fancy we let her 
 go so?"themonk asked, irnperturbably. 
 
 The squatter looked at him in sur 
 prise he no longer understood any 
 thing. 
 
 Like all men of action, discussion 
 was to him almost a matter of impos 
 sibility ; especially with an adversary 
 so crafty as the one hi- 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 
 finish ?" * 
 
 " 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, Senor Padre,' 1 the 
 squatter exclaimed, savagely. 
 
 " Not the least in the world. Had it 
 been any one else, 1 should have resist 
 ed ; but I, too, belong to the Church ; 
 and, as Father Seraphin is my superior, 
 I wan forced to obey him." 
 
 " What !" the squatter said, with a 
 groan, " is he not dead ?" 
 
 " It appears," the monk remarked, 
 ironically, "as if those you kill are all 
 in good state of health, Red Cedar." 
 
 At this allusion fb Don Pablo's death, 
 the squatter stifled a cry of anger, and 
 clenched his fists. 
 
 " Good !" he said ; " If I do not al 
 ways kill, I know how to lake my re 
 venge. Where is Dona Clara, at this 
 moment ?" 
 
 " In a house no great distance from 
 here," Nathan answered. 
 
 " Have you seen her ?'' the squatter 
 asked. 
 
 " No ; but I followed Don Pablo and 
 the missionary to that house, which 
 they entered, and as they were ignorant 
 that I was close to them, their conversa 
 tion left me no doubt as to the where 
 abouts of the girl." 
 
 An ill-omened smile momentarily lit 
 up the old bandit's features. 
 
 " Good !" he said ; " as the dove is 
 in her nest, we shall be able to find her. 
 What o'clock is it?" 
 
 " Three in the morning," Andres in 
 terjected. " Day will soon break." 
 
 " We must make haste, then. Fol 
 low me, all of you." Then he added, 
 " But what has become of Shaw? Does 
 any one of you know ?" 
 
 " You will probably find him at the 
 door of Dona Clara's house," Nathan 
 said, in a hollow voice. 
 
 " How so ? Has my son entered in 
 to a compact with my enemies ?" 
 
150 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " Yes ; as he arranged with them to 
 carry off your prisoner." 
 
 %< Oh ! I will kill him if he prove a 
 traitor !" the squatter shouted with an 
 accent that made the blood run cold in 
 the veins of his hearers. 
 
 Nathan fell back two steps, drew his 
 knife from his boot, and showed it to 
 his father. 
 
 " That is done," he said, harshly. 
 " Shaw tried to stab 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 involuntar- 
 
 ay- 
 
 Without, the night was gloomy ; the 
 wind whistled sadly ; the flickering 
 light of the candle threw a weird light 
 over the scene, which contained a cer 
 tain degree of terrible poetry. 
 
 The squatter 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 he could 
 not control. " He deserved death, but 
 he ought not to have received it at his 
 brother's hands." 
 
 " Father !" Nathan muttered. 
 
 "Silence!" Red Cedar shouted, in a 
 hollow voice, as he stamped his foot 
 passionately on the ground ; " what is 
 done cannot be undone ; but woe to my 
 enemies' family ! Oh ! I feel now that 
 I can take such vengeance on them as 
 will make all shudder who hear it spok 
 en of !" 
 
 After uttering these words, which 
 were listened to in silence, the squatter 
 walked a few steps up the rancho. He 
 approached a table, seized a buttle half 
 full of mezcal that stood on it, and 
 emptied it at a draught. When he had 
 finished drinking, he threw down the 
 bottle, which broke with a crash, and 
 said to his mates in a hollow voice : 
 
 " Let us be off! We have wasted 
 too much time here already !" 
 
 And he rushed out of the rancho, the 
 others following close at his heels. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Don Pablo and 
 Father S Taphin were in the house. 
 
 The priest had taken the rnaideii to 
 
 the house of an honest family which 
 owed him great obligations, and was 
 t'>o happy to receive the poor sufferer. 
 The missionary did not intend, however, 
 to let her be long a burthen to these 
 worthy people. At daybreak he in 
 tended to deliver her to certain rela 
 tions of her father, who inhabited a ha 
 cienda a few leagues from Santa Fe. 
 
 Dona Clara had been placed in a 
 comfortable room by her hosts. Their 
 first care had been to make her doff the 
 Indian robes for others more suitable 
 to her birth and position. The maiden 
 worn out by poignant emotions of the 
 scene she had witnessed, was on the 
 point of retiring to bed, when Father 
 Seraphin and Don Pablo tapped at the 
 door of her room. She 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 plea 
 sant chat. 
 
 Don Pablo was carefnl not to tell 
 his sister of the misfortune that had be 
 fallen her father; for he did not wish 
 to dull by that confession the joy the 
 poor girl promised herself for the mor 
 row. Then, as the -night was advanc 
 ing, the two men withdrew, so as to al 
 low her to enjoy that rest so needed to 
 strengthen her for the long journey to 
 the haciendo, promising to come and 
 fetch htr in a few hours. 
 
 Father Seraphin generously offered 
 Don Pablo GO pass the night with him 
 by sharing the small lodging he had not 
 far from the Plaza de la Merced, and 
 th'e young man eagerly accepted. It 
 was too late to seek a lodging at a lo- 
 canda, and in this way he would be all 
 the sooner with his sister next morning. 
 
 After a lengthened leave-taking, they, 
 therefore, left the house, and, so soon as 
 they were gone, Dona Clara threw her 
 self, ready dressed, into a hammock 
 hantnno- at one end of the room, when 
 
 O O ' 
 
 she speedily fell asleep. 
 
 On reaching the street, Don Pablo 
 saw a body lying motionless in front of 
 the house. 
 
 " What's this ?" he asked, in surprise. 
 
 "A poor wretch whom the ladrones 
 killed in order to plunder him," the 
 missionary answered. 
 
THE TRAILHUNTER. 
 
 151 
 
 " That is possible." 
 " Perhaps he is not quite dead," the 
 missionary went on ; " it is our duty to 
 succor him." 
 
 " For what good ?" Don Pablo said, 
 with an air of indifference ; " if a sereno 
 were to pass he might accuse us of hav 
 ing killed the man." 
 
 " Nay, sir," the missionary observed, 
 " the ways of the Lord are impenetrable. 
 If He allowed us to come across this 
 unhappy man, it was because He judged 
 in His wisdom that we might prove of 
 use to him." 
 
 " Be it so," the young man said ; 
 " let us look at him, as you wish it. 
 But you know that in this country good 
 actions of such a nature generally entail 
 annoyance." 
 
 "That is true, my son. Well, we 
 will run the risk," said the missionary, 
 who had already bent over the wounded 
 man. 
 
 " 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 
 surprise ; " what could that man be do 
 ing here ?" 
 
 " Help me, and we shall learn. The 
 poor fehow has only fainted ; and the 
 loss of blood has produced this sem 
 blance to death." 
 
 Don Pablo, greatly perplexed by this 
 singular meeting, obeyed the missionary 
 without further remark. The two men 
 raised the wounded lad, and carried him 
 gently to Father Seraphin's lodging, 
 where they proposed 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 con 
 federates. On arriving in front of the 
 house they stopped : all the windows 
 were in the deepest obscurity. 
 
 "Which is the girl's room?" the 
 squatter asked in a whisper. 
 
 " This one," Nathan said, as he point 
 ed to it. 
 
 Red Cedar crawled up to the house, 
 drove hi.s dagger int>> 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 Am- 
 brosio, to one corner of the street; you, 
 Garote, to the other, and do not let me 
 be surprised." 
 
 The monk and the gambusino went 
 to their allotted posts. 
 
 When lied Cedar was alone with his 
 son he bent and whispered in his ear : 
 
 " What did you do with your broth 
 er after stabbing him ?" 
 
 " I 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, care 
 fully examining the bloody traces left 
 on the pebbles. 
 
 " He has been carried off," he said, 
 when he rose again. " Perhaps he is 
 not dead." 
 
 " Perhaps so," the young man ob 
 served, with a shake of his head. 
 
 His father gave him a most signifi 
 cant look. 
 
 " To .work," he said coldly. 
 
 And they prepared to escalade the 
 window. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 INDIAN DIPLOMACY. 
 
 WE will return, for the present, to 
 Valentine and his comrades. 
 
 The sudden apparition of the sachem 
 of the Coras had produced a certain de 
 gree of emotion among the hunters and 
 the Comanches. 
 
 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 In 
 dian warmly pressed, " What news 
 does the chief bring us ?" 
 
 " Good," the Coras answered laconi 
 cally. 
 
 " All the better," the hunter said 
 gaily j " for some time past all we have 
 
152 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 received has been so bad that my broth 
 er's will create a diversion." 
 
 The Indian smiled at this sally, but 
 made no remark. 
 
 " My brother can speak," Valentine 
 continued ; " he is surrounded by none 
 but friends." 
 
 " I know it," the chief answered, as 
 he bowed gracefully to the company. 
 " Since I left my brother two months 
 have passed away : I have worn out 
 many mocassins amid the thorns and 
 brambles of the desert ; I have been 
 beyond the Great Lakes to the villages 
 of my nation." 
 
 "Good; my brother is a chief; he 
 was doubtless well received by the sa- 
 chernsof the Coras of the Great Lakes." 
 
 " Mookapec is a renowned warrior 
 among his people," the Indian answered 
 proudly ; " his place by the council-fire 
 of the nation is pointed out. The chiefs 
 saw him with joy : on his road he had 
 taken the scalps of seven gachupinos : 
 they are now drying before the great 
 medicine lodge." 
 
 "It was your right to do so, chief, 
 and I cannot blame you. The Span 
 iards have done you harm enough for 
 you to requite them." 
 
 " My brother speaks well ; his skin 
 is white, but his heart is red." 
 
 " Hum," observed Valentine ; " I am 
 a friend to justice; vengeance is permis 
 sible against treachery. Go on, chief.'' 
 
 The hunter's comrades had drawn 
 nearer, and now formed a circle round 
 the two speakers. 
 
 Curumilla was occupied silently, as 
 was his wont, in completely stripping 
 each Spanish prisoner, whom he then 
 bound in such a way that the slightest 
 movement was impossible. 
 
 Valentine, although time pressed, 
 knew too well the Red-skin character 
 to try and hurry Eagle-wing on. He 
 felt certain that the chief had important 
 news to communicate to him ; but it 
 would have been no use trying to draw 
 it from him ; hence he allowed him to 
 act as he pleased. 
 
 Unicorn, leaning on his rifle, listened 
 attentively, without evincing the slight 
 est impatience. 
 
 " Did my brother remain long with 
 his tribe," Valentine continued. 
 
 " Two suns. Eagle-wing had left be 
 hind him friends to whom his heart 
 drew him." 
 
 " Thanks, chief, for the pleasant recol 
 lections of us." 
 
 " The chiefs 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 Mookapec had formed his 
 plan, and two hundred warriors are 
 assembled beneath his totem." 
 
 " Good !" said Valentine, '* the chief 
 will avenge himself." 
 
 The Indian smiled. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " my young 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 
 of his head. " Eagle-wing does not 
 march with them ; he has hidden him 
 self under the skin of an Apache dog." 
 
 " What does my brother say ?" Val 
 entine asked with amazement. 
 
 " My white brother is quick," Unicorn 
 said, sententiously ; " he will letMook 
 apec speak. He is a great sachem, an 
 wisdom dwells in him." 
 
 Valentine shook his head, however, 
 and said : 
 
 " Hum ! answering one act of treach 
 ery by another, that is not the way in 
 which the warriors of my nation be 
 have." 
 
 " The nation of my brother is great, 
 and strong as the grizzly bear," Unicorn 
 said ; " 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, 
 "cunning must be allowed you in deal 
 ing with the implacable enemies who 
 surround you. 1 was wrong ; so go on, 
 chief; tell us what deviltry you have 
 invented, and if it is ingenious. Well, 
 1 will be the first to applaud it." 
 
 " Wah, my brother shall judge. Red 
 Cedar is about to enter the desert, as 
 my brother doubtless knows?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Does my brother know the Gringo 
 has asked the Apaches for a guide ]" 
 
 " No, I did not." 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 153 
 
 " Good. Stanapat, the great chie 
 
 of the Apaches, sent a Navajoe warrio 
 
 to act as guide to Red Cedar." 
 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " The Navajoe was scalped by Eagle 
 
 wing." 
 
 " Ah, ah ! then Red Cedar cannot se 
 out ?" 
 
 " Yes, he can do so when he likes." 
 " How so ?" 
 
 " Because Eagle-wing takes the place 
 of the guide." 
 Unicorn smiled. 
 
 " My brother has a deal of wisdom,' 
 he said. 
 
 " Hum !" Valentine remarked, with 
 some show of ill-humor. " It is possi 
 ble, but you play for a heavy stake, 
 chief. That old villain is as crafty as 
 ten monkeys and ten opossums united. 
 I warn you that he will recognize you." 
 " No." 
 
 " I wish it ; for if he does, you are a 
 lost man." 
 
 " Good, my brother can be easy. 
 Eaglewing 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 you join Red Cedar ?" 
 " This night." 
 
 " You are going to leave us?" 
 "At ouce. Eaglewing has nothing 
 more to confide to his brother." 
 
 And, after bowing courteously to the 
 company, the Coras chief glided into 
 the thicket, in which he disappeared 
 almost instantaneously. 
 
 Valentine looked after him for some 
 time. 
 
 " Yes," he said at last, with a thought 
 ful 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 ! Well, we 
 shall see ; perhaps all is for the best so." 
 And he turned to Curumilla. 
 " The clothes ?" he said. 
 " Here they are," the Aucas answer 
 ed, laconically, as he pointed to an en 
 ormous heap of clothing. 
 
 " 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 those uniforms." 
 
 ThtiComanche drew himself up haugh 
 tily. 
 
 " No," he said, " Unicorn does not 
 put oft' the dress of his people. What 
 need have we of this disguise ?" 
 
 " In order to encer the carnp of the 
 Spaniards without being discovered." 
 
 " Wah ! for what good ? Unicorn 
 will summon his young men to cut a 
 passage through the corpses of the gach- 
 upinos." 
 
 But Valentine shook his head mourn 
 fully. 
 
 " It is true," he remarked, " we could 
 do so. But why shed blood needless- 
 y ? No ; let my brother put confidence 
 n me." 
 
 "The hunter will act rightly. Uni 
 corn knows it, and he leaves him free ; 
 )ut Unicorn is a chief, he cannot put 
 ou the clothes of the palefaces." 
 
 Valentine no longer insisted, as it 
 .vould have been unavailing; so he 
 greed to modify his plan. He made 
 each of his comrades put on a dragoon 
 uniform, and himself donned the clothes 
 tripped from the Alferez. When all 
 his metamorphosis was as complete as 
 )ossible, he turned to Unicorn. 
 
 " The chief will remain here," he 
 aid, " to guard the prisoners." 
 
 "Good/' the Cornauche answered. 
 ' Is Unicorn, then, a chattering old wo- 
 nan, that warriors place him on one 
 
 e r 
 
 " My brother does not understand 
 ne. 1 do not wish to insult him, but 
 e cannot enter the camp with us." 
 
 The chief shrugged his shoulders dis- 
 ainfully. 
 
 "The Comanche warriors can crawl 
 s well as serpents. Unicorn will 
 nter." 
 
 " Let my brother come, then, since 
 e wishes it." 
 
 " Good ; my brother is vexed ; a 
 loud has passed over his face. He is 
 wrong; his friend loves him." 
 
 " I know it, chief, I know it. I am 
 ot vexed, but my heart is sad to see a 
 arrior thus run the risk of being killed 
 ithout any necessity." 
 
 " Unicorn is a sachem ; he must give 
 n example to his young men on the 
 ar-path." 
 
 Valentine gave a nod of assent. 
 
154 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 "Here are the horses of the pale 
 faces," Curumilla said; "my brother 
 will need them." 
 
 " That is true," the hunter answered, 
 with a smile ; " my brother is a areat 
 chief he thinks of everything." 
 
 Every one mounted, Unicorn alone 
 remaining a-foot. 
 
 Valentine placed the Alferez by his 
 side. 
 
 " Caballero," 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 rny words : if you at 
 tempt 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 so conscientiously tied by Curu- 
 rnilla that there was no chance of their 
 escaping. The little band then set out, 
 Unicorn disappearing among the trees. 
 
 When they came a short distance 
 from the bivouac, a sentry challenged, 
 "Who goes there?" 
 
 " Answer," Valentine whispered the 
 Alferez. 
 
 He did so. 
 
 They passed, and the sentry, sudden 
 ly seized by Curumilla, was bound and 
 gagged in the twinkling of an eye, all 
 the other sentinels sharing the same 
 fate. The Mexicans keep up a very bad 
 watch in the field, even in the presence 
 of an enemy; the greater reason, then, 
 for them to neglect all precaution when 
 they fancy themselves in safety. Every 
 body was asleep, and Valentine and his 
 friends were masters of the camp. The 
 regiment of dragoons had been surprised 
 without striking a blow. 
 
 Valentine's comrades dismounted ; 
 they knew exactly how to act, and did 
 not deviate from the instructions given 
 by their leader. They proceeded from 
 picket to picket, removing the horses, 
 which were led out' of camp. Within 
 twenty minutes all had been carried off. 
 
 Valentine had anxiously followed the 
 movements of his men. When they 
 had finished, he raised the curtain of the 
 colonel's tent, and found himself face to 
 face with Unicorn, from whose waist- 
 belt hung a reeking scalp. 
 
 Valentine could not repress a move 
 ment of horror. 
 
 " What have you done, chief?" he 
 asked, reproachfully. 
 
 " Unicorn has killed his enemy," 
 the Comanche replied, peremptorily. 
 " When the leader of the antelopes is 
 killed, his flock disperses ; the gachupi- 
 nos will do the same." 
 
 Valentine drew near the colonel. The 
 unhappy man, fearfully mutilated, with 
 his brain laid bare, and his heart pierced 
 by the knife of the implacable Indian, 
 lay stark dead, in a pool of blood, in the 
 middle of the tent. The hunter vented 
 a sigh at this sorry sight. 
 
 " Poor devil ! : ' he said, with an air 
 of compassion. 
 
 After this short funeral oration, he 
 took away his sabre and epaulettes, left 
 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 daybreak. 
 
 The dragoons were no longer to be 
 feared . 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 THE STRANGER. 
 
 FATHER SERAPHIN 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 ev 
 ery precaution, employed considerable 
 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 
 direction. 
 
 " The man is dead," Don Pablo re 
 marked, during a halt they made on the 
 Plaza de la Merced. 
 
 " 1 fear so," the missionary answered, 
 sadly ; " still, as we are not certain of 
 it, our conscience bids us to bestow our 
 care on him, until we acquire the pain 
 ful conviction that it avails him 
 nought." 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 155 
 
 " Father, the love of one's neighbor 
 often carries you too far ; better were 
 it, perhaps, if this wretch did not come 
 back to life." 
 
 " You are severe, my friend. This 
 man is still young almost a boy. 
 Trained amid a family of bandits, never 
 having aught but evil examples before 
 him, he has hitherto only done evil, in 
 a spirit of imitation. Who knows 
 whether this fearful wound may not of 
 fer him the means to enter the society 
 of honest people, which he has till now 
 been ignorant of? I repeat to you, my 
 friend, the ways of the Lord are inscru 
 table." 
 
 " I will do what you wish, father. 
 You have entire power over me. Still, 
 I fear that all our care will be thrown 
 away." 
 
 "God, whose humble instruments 
 we are, will prove you wrong, I hope. 
 Come, a little courage, a few paces fur 
 ther, and we shall have arrived." 
 
 " Come on then," Don Pablo said 
 with resignation. 
 
 Father Seraphin lodged at a house of 
 modest appearance, built of adobes and 
 reeds, in a small room he hired from a 
 poor widow, for the small sum of nine 
 reals a month. 
 
 This room, very small, and which 
 only received air from a window open 
 ing on an inner yard, was a perfect 
 conventual cell, as far as furniture was 
 concerned, for the latter consisted of a 
 wooden frame, over which a bull-hide 
 was stretched, and served as the mis 
 sionary's bed ; a butacca and a prie-dieu, 
 above which a copper crucifix was fas 
 tened to the whitewashed wall. But, 
 like all cells, this room was marvellous 
 ly clean. From a few nails hung the 
 well-worn clothes of the poor priest, 
 and a shelf supported vials and flasks 
 which doubtless contained medica 
 ments ; for, like all the missionaries, 
 Father Seraphin had a rudimentary 
 knowledge of medicine, and took in 
 charge both the souls and bodies of his 
 neophytes. 
 
 The father lit a candle of yellow tal 
 low standing in an iron candlestick, and, 
 aided by Don Pablo, laid the wounded 
 man ou his own bed j after which the 
 
 young man fell back into the butacca to 
 regain his breath. 
 
 Father Seraphin, on whom, spite of his 
 fragile appearance, the fatigue had pro 
 duced no apparent effect, then went 
 down stairs to lock the street-door, 
 which he had left open. 
 
 As he pushed it to, he felt an opposi 
 tion outside, and a man soon entered 
 the yard. 
 
 " Pardon, my reverend father," the 
 stranger said ; " but be kind enough not 
 to leave me outside." 
 
 "Do you live in this house ?" 
 
 " No," the stranger coolly replied, 
 " I do not live in Santa Fe, where 1 am 
 quite unknown." 
 
 " Do you ask hospitality of me, then ?" 
 Father Seraphin continued, much sur 
 prised at this answer. 
 
 " Not at all, reverend father." 
 x " Then what do you want 1 ', the mis 
 sionary 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, hesitating. 
 
 " Has nothing that need surprise you. 
 I have the greatest interest in seeing 
 with my own eyes in what state that 
 man is, for certain reasons which in no 
 way concern you." 
 
 " Do you know who he is ?" 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " Are you a relation or friend of his ?" 
 
 " Neither one nor the other. Still, I 
 repeat to you, very weighty reasons 
 compel me lo see him and speak with 
 him, if that be possible." 
 
 Father Seraphin took a searching 
 glance at the speaker. 
 
 He was a man of great height, ap 
 parently in the fullest vigor of life. His 
 features, so far as it was possible to dis 
 tinguish them by the pale and tremu 
 lous moon beams, were handsome, though 
 an expression of unbending will was the 
 marked thing about them. He wore 
 the dress of rich Mexican hacienderos, 
 and had in his right hand a magnificent 
 ly inlaid American rifle. 
 
 Still the missionary hesitated. 
 " Well," the stranger continued, 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " have you made up your mind, father?" 
 
 "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 
 present 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. Pru 
 dence demands that I should refuse to 
 let you see him." 
 
 A certain annoyance was depicted on 
 the stranger's features. 
 
 " You are right, father," he answered ; 
 " appearances are against me. Unfortu 
 nately, the explanation you demand 
 from me justly would make us lose too 
 much precious time, hence 1 cannot give 
 them to you at this moment. All I 
 can do is to swear, in the face of Heaven, 
 on that crucifix you 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 1 am 
 this moment seeking to punish a great 
 criminal/' 
 
 The stranger uttered these words with 
 such frankness, and such an air of con 
 viction, his face glistened with so much 
 honesty, that the missionary felt con 
 vinced : he took up the crucifix and 
 offered it to this extraordinary 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 our 
 selves ; 1 will not even insult you by 
 asking your name." 
 
 " My name would teach you nothing, 
 father," the stranger said sadly. 
 
 "Follow me, sir." 
 
 The missionary locked the gate and 
 led the stranger to his room, on enter 
 ing which the new comer took off his 
 hat reverently, took up a post in a 
 corner of the room, and did not stir. 
 
 *' Do not trouble yourself about me, 
 father," 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 
 
 Seraplfm walked up to him. For a 
 long time, however, the attention he 
 lavished on him proved sterile, and 
 seemed to pr duee no effect on the 
 squatter's sou. Still, the father did not 
 despair, although Don Pablo shook his 
 head. An hour thus passed, and no 
 ostensible change had taken place in 
 the young rnan'scondition ; the mission 
 ary had exhausted all his stock of know 
 ledge, and began to fear the worst. 
 
 At this moment the stranger walked 
 up to him. 
 
 " My father," he said, touching him 
 gently on the arm, " you have done all 
 that was humanly possible, but have 
 not succeeded." 
 
 " Alas ! no !" the missionary said 
 sadly. 
 
 " Will you permit me to try in my 
 turn ?" 
 
 " Do you fancy you will prove more 
 successful than 1 ?" the priest asked in 
 surprise. 
 
 " I hope so," the stranger said softly. 
 
 " Still, you see I have tried every 
 thing that the medical art prescribes iu 
 such a case." 
 
 " That is true, father ; but the In 
 dians possess certain secrets known only 
 to themselves, and which are of great 
 efficacy." 
 
 " I have heard so. But do you know 
 those secrets ?" 
 
 " Some of them have been revealed 
 to me; if you will permit me, 1 will 
 try their effects on this young man, 
 who, as far as 1 can judge, is in a des 
 perate condition." 
 
 " I fear he is, poor fellow." 
 
 " We shall, therefore, run no risk in 
 trying the efficacy of my superior reme 
 dy upon him." 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 The stranger bent over the young 
 man, and regarded him for a moment 
 with fixed attention; then he drew 
 from his pocket a flask of carved crys 
 tal, filled with a fluid as green as emer 
 ald. 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 occurred ; the 
 young man gave vent to a deep sigh, 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 157 
 
 opened his eyes several times, and sud 
 denly, as if moved by supernatural 
 force, he sat up and looked around him 
 \vith amazement. 
 
 Don Pablo and the missionary were 
 almost inclined to believe in a miracle 
 so extraordinary did the fact appear to 
 them. 
 
 The stranger returned to his dark 
 corner. 
 
 Suddenly the young man passed his 
 hand over his dank forehead, and mut 
 tered in a hollow voice : 
 
 " Ellen, my sister, it is too late. I 
 cannot save her. See, see, they are 
 carrying her off; she is lost !" 
 
 And he fell back on the bed, as the 
 three men rushed towards him. 
 
 " He sleeps !" the missionary said in 
 amazement. 
 
 " He is saved 1" the stranger answer 
 ed. 
 
 " What did he want to say, though ?" 
 Don p ablo inquired anxiously. 
 
 " Did you not understand it ?" the 
 stranger asked of him. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Well, then, I will tell you." 
 
 " You !" 
 
 " Yes, I ; listen ! that lad Vished to 
 deliver your sister !" 
 
 " How do you know ?" 
 
 " Is it true ?" 
 
 " It is; go on." 
 
 " He was stabbed at the door of the 
 house when she sought shelter." 
 
 " What next ?" 
 
 " Those who stabbed him wished to 
 get him out of the way, in order to 
 carry her off a second time." 
 
 " Oh, that is impossible !" 
 
 " It is the fact." 
 
 " How do you know it?" 
 
 " I do not know it, but I can read it 
 plainly." 
 
 " Ah !" Don Pablo exclaimed in des 
 pair, " my father let us fly to my 
 sister's aid !" 
 
 The two gentlemen rushed from the 
 house with a presentiment of misfor 
 tune. 
 
 When the stranger found himself 
 alone with the wounded man, he walked 
 up to him, wrapped him in his cloak, 
 threw him over his shoulders as easy as 
 if he were only a child, and went out in 
 10 
 
 his turn. On reaching the street, he 
 carefully closed the door, and went off 
 at a great rate, soon disappearing in th**. 
 darkness. At the same instant the 
 melancholy voice ^of the sereno could 
 be heard chanting : 
 
 " Ave Maria purissima ! Los cuatro 
 han dado ! Viva Mexico ! Todo es 
 quieto ! (Hail, most pure Mary ! It has 
 struck four. Long live Mexico ! All is 
 quiet)." 
 
 What irony on the part of accident 
 was this cry after the terrible events of 
 the night ! 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 GENERAL VENTURA. 
 
 IT was about six in the morning. A 
 dazzling sun poured down its trans 
 parent rays on the streets of the Presi 
 dio of Santa Fe, which were already 
 full of noise and movement at that 
 early hour of the morning. 
 
 General Ventura was still plunged in 
 a deep sleep, probably lulled by agree 
 able dreams, judging from the air of 
 beatitude spread over his features. The 
 general, reassured by the speedy arrival 
 of the dragoons promised him, fancied 
 he had nothing more to fear from mu+ 
 tineers who had hitherto inspired him 
 with lively apprehensions. He thought, 
 too, that by the aid of the reinforce 
 ments, he could easily get rid of the 
 Comanche, who, on the previous day, 
 had so audaciously bearded him in the 
 very heart of his palace. 
 
 He slept, then, that pleasant morning- 
 sleep, in which the body, entirely rested 
 from its fatigue, leaves the mind the en 
 tire liberty of its faculties. 
 
 Suddenly the door of the sleeping 
 room in which the worthy governor 
 reposed, was torn violently open, and 
 an officer entered. General Ventura, 
 aroused with a start, sat up in his bed, 
 fixing on the importunate visitor a 
 glance, at first stern, but which at once 
 became uneasy on seeing the alarm de 
 picted on the officer's features. 
 
 " What is the matter, Senor Captain 
 Don Lopez?" he asked, trying in vain 
 
153 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 to give firmness to his voice, which 
 trembled involuntarily from a forebod- 
 .ing of evil. 
 
 Captain Lopez was a soldier of for 
 tune, who had grown grey in harness, 
 and contracted a species of rough frank 
 ness, that prevented him toning the 
 truth down under any circumstances, 
 which fact made him appear, in the 
 General's eyes, a bird of very evil 
 omen. The captain's arrival, therefore, 
 doubly disquieted the governor. In 
 the first place, through his alarmed 
 face ; and secondly, the reputation he 
 enjoyed. 
 
 To the general's query the captain 
 only replied the following three storm- 
 laden words : 
 
 " Nothing that's good." 
 
 " What do you mean? Have the 
 people rebelled ?'' 
 
 " On my word, no ! I do not fancy 
 they even dream of such a thing." 
 
 " Very well, then," the general went 
 on, quite cheered by the good news, 
 " what the deuce have you to tell me, 
 captain ?" 
 
 " I have not come to tell you any 
 thing," the other said, roughly. "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 hirn, or send him about his busi 
 ness." 
 
 " One moment," exclaimed the gen 
 eral, whose features had suddenly be 
 come gloomy ; " who is the soldier ?" 
 
 " A dragoon, I fancy." 
 
 " A dragoon ! let him come in at 
 once. May heaven bless you, with all 
 your circumlocution ! The man, doubt 
 less, brings me news of the arrival of 
 the regiment I am expecting, and which 
 should have been here before." 
 
 The captain shrugged his shoulders 
 with an air of doubt. 
 
 " What is it now ?" the general said, 
 whom this expressive pantomime emi 
 nently alarmed ; " what are you going 
 to say ?" 
 
 " Nothing, except that the soldier 
 looks very sad to be the bearer of such 
 good news." 
 
 " We shall soon know what we have 
 to depend on. Let him come in." 
 
 " That is true," said the captain, as 
 he went off. v 
 
 During this conversation the general 
 had leaped from his bed, and dressed 
 himself with the promptness peculiar to 
 soldiers. He now anxiously awaited 
 the appearance of the trooper whom 
 Don Lopez had announced to him. In 
 /ain he tried to persuade himself thut 
 the captain was mistaken, and that the 
 soldier had been sent to tell him of the 
 arrival of the regiment. 
 
 In spite of himself, he felt in his heart 
 a species of alarm which he could not 
 account for, and yet nothing- could dis 
 sipate. 
 
 A few minutes were thus passed in 
 febrile restlessness. 
 
 All at once a great noise was heard 
 in the Plaza Major. 
 
 The general went to a window, pull 
 ed aside a curtain, and looked out. 
 
 A tumultuous and dense crowd was 
 thronging every street leading to the 
 square and uttering sharp cries. This 
 crowd, momentarily increasing, seemed 
 urged on by something terrible, which 
 the general could not perceive. 
 
 " What is this?" the general exclaim 
 ed; "and' what can be the meaning of 
 this disturbance ?" 
 
 At this moment the shouts grew 
 louder, and the detachment of Coman- 
 che warriors appeared debouching by 
 the Calle de la Alerced, and marching in 
 good order, and at quick step, upon the 
 palace. On seeing them the general 
 could not restrain a start of surprise. 
 
 "The Indians again !" he said ; "how 
 can they dare to present themselves 
 here 1 They must be ignorant of the 
 arrival of the dragoons. Such boldness 
 is incomprehensible." 
 
 He let the curtain 'fall, and turned 
 away. 
 
 The soldier whom the captain had 
 announced to him stood before him, 
 waiting the general's pleasure to ques 
 tion him. The general started on per 
 ceiving him. He was pale ; his uni 
 form was torn and stained with mud, is, 
 if he had made a long journey on foot 
 through brambles. 
 
 The general wished to clear up his 
 doubts ; but, just as he was opening his 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 159 
 
 mouth to ask the man a question, the 
 door flew back, and several officers, 
 among "whom was Captain Don Lopez, 
 entered the room. 
 
 " General," the captain said, " make 
 haste ! You are expected in the coun 
 cil hall. The Indians have come for the 
 answer you promised to give them this 
 morning 1 ." 
 
 " Well ! why this startled look, gen 
 tlemen?" the general said, severely. 
 " I fancy the town has not yet been set 
 on fire. I am not at the orders of those 
 savages, so tell them that I have no time 
 to grant them an audience." 
 
 The officers gazed at the general with 
 a surprise they did not attempt to con 
 ceal, on hearing these strange and in 
 comprehensible words. 
 
 " Good, good," Captain Lopez said, 
 roughly, " the town is not yet fired, 
 'tis true ; but it might be so, ere long, 
 if you went on in this way." 
 
 " What do you mean?" the gen 
 eral asked, as he turned pale. " Are 
 matters so serious?" 
 
 " They are most serious. We have 
 not a moment to lose, if we wish to 
 avoid heavy disasters." 
 
 The general started. 
 
 " Gentlemen," he then said, in an ill- 
 assured voice, " it is our duty to watch 
 over the safety of the population. I 
 follow you." 
 
 And taking no further heed of the 
 soldier he had ordered to be sent in, he 
 proceeded towards the council-hall. 
 
 The disorder that prevailed without 
 had at length gained the interior of the 
 palace. Nothing was to be heard but 
 shrieks or exclamations of anger and 
 terror. The Mexican officers assembled 
 in the hall were tumultuously discussing 
 the measures to be adopted in order to 
 save a contest and the town. 
 
 The entrance of the governor produc 
 ed a healthy effect upon them, in so far 
 that the discussion, which was degene 
 rating into personalities and reproaches, 
 dictated by individual fear, suddenly 
 ceased, and calmness was restored. 
 
 General Ventura regretted in his 
 heart having counted on imaginary help, 
 and not having listened to the sensible 
 advice of some of his officers, who urg 
 ed him the previous day to satisfy the 
 
 Indians by giving them what they ask 
 ed. In spite of the terror he felt, how-, 
 ever, his pride revolted at being com 
 pelled 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. 
 
 The governor, in entering the hall, 
 looked around the assembly anxiously. 
 All had taken their places, and, exter 
 nally at least, had assumed that grace 
 and stern appearance belonging to men 
 who are penetrated with the grandeur 
 of the duties they have to perform, and 
 are resolved to carry them out at all 
 hazards. 
 
 But this appearance was very decep 
 tive. If the /aces were impassive the 
 hearts were timorous. All these men, 
 habituated to a slothful. and effeminate 
 life, did not feel capable of waging a 
 contest with the rude enemies who 
 menaced them so audaciously, even at 
 the doors of the governor's palace. 
 
 Under present circumstances, how 
 ever, resistance was impossible. 
 
 The Indians, by the fact of their pre 
 sence on the square, were masters of the 
 town. There were no troops to oppose 
 to them ; hence, the only hope was to 
 make the easiest terms possible with 
 the Comanches. Still, as all these men 
 wished to save appearances at any rate, 
 the discussion began anew. 
 
 When every one had given his opin 
 ion, the governor rose, and said in a 
 trembling voice : 
 
 " Caballeros, all of us here present 
 are men of courage, and have displayed 
 that quality in many difficult circum 
 stances. Certainly, if the only thing 
 was to sacrifice our lives to save the 
 hapless townsmen, we would -not hesi 
 tate to do so, for we are too well imbued 
 with the soundness of our duties to 
 hesitate; but, unhappily, that sacrifice 
 would not avail to save those whom we 
 wish before all to protect. Let us treat, 
 then, with the barbarians, as we cannot 
 conquer them. Perhaps in this way we 
 shall succeed in protecting our wives 
 and children from the danger that me 
 naces them. In acting thus, under the 
 grave circumstances in which we find 
 ourselves, we shall at least have thfe 
 
160 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER 
 
 consolation of having done our duty 
 even if we do not obtain all we desire.' 
 Hearty applause greeted this har 
 angue, and the governor, turning to th 
 porter, who stood motionless at the 
 door, gave orders to introduce the prin 
 cipal Indian chiefs. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 THE COMANCIIES. 
 
 VALENTINE and his friends awoke at 
 daybreak. 
 
 The Comanches were already pre 
 pared to start; and Unicorn, dressed in 
 his great war costume, presented him 
 self to the hunter. 
 
 " Is my brother going ?" Valentine 
 asked him. 
 
 " Yes," the sachem answered. " I am 
 returning to the Presidio to receive the 
 answer of the chief of the palefaces." 
 
 " What is my brother's intention, 
 should his demand be rejected T' 
 
 Unicorn smiled. 
 
 " The Comanches have long lances," 
 he said ; " the palefaces will not refuse." 
 
 " My anxiety will be extreme till you 
 return, chief; the Spaniards are perfid 
 ious ; take care they have not planned 
 some treachery." 
 
 " They would not dare," Unicorn 
 said, haughtily. " If the chief, whom 
 my brother loves, is not delivered to 
 me safe and sound, the Spanish pri 
 soners shall be tortured on the Plaza 
 of Santa Fe, the town burned and 
 sacked. I have spoken ; my brother's 
 mind may be at rest." 
 
 " Good ! Unicorn is a wise chief; he 
 will do what is necessary." 
 
 In the meantime the Comanche war 
 riors 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 
 centre 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, their 
 clothes in disorder, their features hag 
 
 gard, and their faces glistening with 
 perspiration. On reaching their friends, 
 they fell, almost in a fainting state, ou 
 the ground. The proper attentions 
 were at once paid them, and the mission 
 ary was the first to recover. 
 
 Don Pablo seemed stupified ; the 
 
 tears poured incessantly down his 
 
 cheeks, and he could not utter a word. 
 
 Valentine felt strangely alarmed. 
 
 *' Good heavens !" he exclaimed, "what 
 
 has happened 1 Don Miguel ?" 
 
 The missionary shook his head. 
 " No," he said, " nothing has happen 
 ed to him. as far as I know." 
 
 " Heaven be praised ! But what in 
 the matter, father ? What misfortune 
 have you to announce to me ?" 
 
 " A frightful one, indeed, my son," 
 the missionary replied, as he buried his 
 face in his hands. 
 
 " Speak, in Heaven's name ! Your 
 delay is killing me." 
 
 " Dona Clara " 
 
 " Well ! ; ' he hunter said, sharply. 
 " Was captured again last night by 
 Red Cedar, and torn from the refuge 
 where I placed her." 
 
 " Oh !" Valentine exclaimed, with 
 concentrated fury, as he stamped his 
 foot, " always that demon that accurs 
 ed 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 daughter to him." 
 Unicorn advanced. 
 
 " Master of prayer," he said to Father 
 Seraphin, in a soft and impressive voice, 
 ' your heart is good. The Comanches 
 ove 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 on hearing these words the 
 young man quivered as if he had received 
 an electric shock. He drew himself up, 
 nd fixed on the chief his eyes burning 
 with the fever of sorrow. 
 
 " Yes," he said, in a broken voice, 
 'you are right, chief, and," passing hia 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 161 
 
 hand over his eyes, with a gesture o 
 ra^e, " let us leave tears to women, whr 
 
 O ' ' 
 
 have no other weapons to protect their 
 weakness. I am a man, and will avenge 
 myself." 
 
 " Good. My brother speaks well : 
 he is a warrior ; Unicorn esteems him ; 
 he will become great on the war path.' 
 Don Pablo, crushed for a moment, 
 had regained all his energy ; he was no 
 longer the same man ; he looked around 
 him. 
 
 " Where are you going ?" he asked. 
 " To Santa Fe, to deliver your father." 
 " I will go with you." 
 " Come," said Unicorn. 
 " No," Valentine interposed, authori 
 tatively. " Your place is not there, 
 Don Pablo ; leave the Comanche war 
 riors to act as they please ; they do not 
 need your help to carry out their plans 
 properly. Remain with me." 
 
 " Command rne, my friend," the 
 young man said with resignation; "I 
 have perfect confidence in your ex 
 perience." 
 
 " Good. You are reasonable. Bro 
 ther," he added, turning to the chief, 
 " you can start. The sun is already 
 high in the horizon ; may Heaven grant 
 that you may succeed !" 
 
 Unicorn gave the signal for depar 
 ture. The Comanches uttered their war 
 yell, while brandishing their arms, and 
 started at a quick amble, the only pace 
 they know. 
 
 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, la 
 conically. 
 
 " For long ?" 
 " For a few hours?'' 
 " Where is my brother going?" 
 " To look for the camp of Red 
 Cedar's gambusinos," the Indian replied 
 with a cunning smile. 
 
 " Good," Valentine said, gleefully. 
 " My brother is a wise chief; he forgets 
 nothing." 
 
 " Curumilla loves his brother ; he 
 thinks for him," the chief answered, 
 simply. 
 
 After uttering these words, the Uni 
 
 corn bowed gracefully, and proceeded 
 in the direction of the Paso del Norte, 
 soon disappearing in the windings of 
 the road. 
 
 Valentine looked after him for a long 
 while. When he no longer saw him, 
 he let his head fall pensively on his 
 chest, murmuring in a low voice 
 
 " Good, intelligent fellow ! Heart >f 
 gold ! The only friend left me ! The 
 only one remaining of my old and faith 
 ful comrades ! Louis, my poor Louis, 
 where are you now ?" A deep sigh 
 burst from his bosom, and he remained 
 absorbed in a gloomy reverie. 
 At length Valentine raised his head, 
 passed his hand over his brow, as if to 
 dispel these sad thoughts, and turned to 
 his friends. 
 
 " Pardon me," he said, " but I, at 
 times, give way to my thoughts in that 
 fashion. Alas ! I, too, have suffered ; 
 but let us leave that," he added, gaily. 
 " Bygones must be bygones. Let us 
 attend to your affairs." 
 
 He made them a sign to sit down by 
 his side on the grass, rummaged his al- 
 forjas and produced some slight food, 
 which he laid before them. 
 
 " Eat," he said to them ; " we do not 
 know what awaits us within the iiext 
 few hours, and we must recruit our 
 trength. When you have satisfied 
 your appetite, you will tell me all 
 about Dona Clara being carried off 
 Again, for I must have the fullest de 
 tails." 
 
 We will leave the three now con 
 versing, and join the Comanches and 
 Unicorn* again. 
 
 When the Comanches reached the 
 Plaza Mayor, opposite the Cabildo, they 
 lalted. At an order from Unicorn, the 
 prisoners were completely stripped of 
 iheir clothing and placed some distance 
 n front of the first rank of Indians, 
 >ach of them having at. his side a fully 
 irrned Indian ready to massacre him 
 mercilessly at the slightest sign from 
 Unicorn. When the preparations were 
 :omph;ted, and the Comanches had 
 stationed sentinels at each corner of the 
 streets, opening in the square, in order 
 lot to be taken in reverse, and sur- 
 ounded by the Spaniards, if they felt 
 any inclination for fighting, the Spider, 
 
162 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 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 who was no 
 other than Don Lopez, politely requested 
 the Indian warrior to wait a few mo 
 ments, 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. 
 
 It was time, for the Comanches were 
 beginning to grow tired of waiting 1 , and 
 were preparing to force the passage 
 which was not voluntarily granted them. 
 
 After some preliminary explanations, 
 Captain Lopez informed the Spider that 
 the general, surrounded by jiis 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, 
 dismounted, and entered the Cabildo. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 NEGOTIATIONS. 
 
 WHEN Unicorn entered the council- 
 chamber, preceded by Captain Lopez, 
 and followed by the three Indian chiefs, 
 the deepest silence prevailed among the 
 Spanish officers assembled to meet him. 
 
 The governor, seated in a chair placed 
 in the centre of the hall, was looking 
 nervously round him, while tapping on 
 the arm of the chair with the fingers of 
 his right hand. Still, his countenance 
 was tolerably composed ; nothing exter 
 nally revealed the terror that devoured 
 him. He answered by a nod the cere 
 monious bow of the Comanches, and 
 drew himself up as if intending to ad 
 dress them ; but if such were his desire, 
 Unicorn did not grant him time to do 
 so. 
 
 The sachem draped himself in his 
 buffalo robe with that majestic grace 
 possessed by all those untamed sons of 
 the desert, drew his head up proudly, 
 and walked toward General Ventura, 
 who watched him approach with an 
 
 anxious eye. 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." 
 
 The general hesitated for an instant. 
 
 " I am waiting !" the Indian went on, 
 with a frown that augured ill. 
 
 The general, forced almost into his 
 last entrenchments, saw that the hour 
 for surrender had at length arrived, and 
 that no way of escape was left him. 
 
 "Chief," he answered, in anything 
 but a firm voice, "your behavior natu 
 rally surprises me. To my knowledge 
 the Spaniards are not at war with your 
 nation ; the whites have not done any 
 thing of which you have a right to com 
 plain. For what reason do you come, 
 then, against the sworn faith, and when 
 nothing authorizes you, to invade a de 
 fenceless town, and interfere in matters 
 that only concern ourselves?" 
 
 The sachem understood that the 
 Spaniard was trying to shift the ques 
 tion on to other ground ; he saw the 
 snare offered him, and was not to be 
 caught. 
 
 " My father does not answer my re 
 quest," he said., "Still, in order to 
 have finished at once with the recrimi 
 nations he brings up, I will answer his 
 questions peremptorily, separating them 
 one from the other. 
 
 " In the first place, my father knows 
 very well that the palefaces and red 
 skins have been in a constant state of 
 warfare since the arrival of white men 
 in America. This war may have slight 
 ly relaxed at intervals, but has never 
 really ceased. Our two races are hos 
 tile; the struggle will not end between 
 them until one of the two families, 
 whether white or red, has given place 
 to the other by its general extinction. 
 Secondly, my father said that nothing 
 has been done of which we had a right 
 to complain. My father is mistaken, 
 we have a cause, the imprisonment of 
 Don Miguel Zarate, who. himself an In 
 dian, has never belied his origin. Hence 
 my father must no longer ask by what 
 right I am here, for that is perfectly 
 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 established ; it is that whioh every hon 
 est man possesses of defending an inno 
 cent person who is oppressed. Now 
 that fact is cleared up, let us pass to 
 another. When I came here yesterday, 
 my father gave me to understand that 
 my propositions would be accepted, 
 and the exchange of prisoners carried 
 >ut." 
 
 " It is possible, chief," the general 
 replied ; " but things are so in this 
 world, no one knows to-day what he 
 will do to-morrow. With night reflec 
 tion has come, and, in short, your pro 
 positions have appeared to me unaccept 
 able." 
 
 " Wah!" the Indian said, though not 
 testifying his surprise otherwise. 
 
 " Yes," the general continued, grow 
 ing animated, " I should be ashamed to 
 grant them, for 1 should have the ap 
 pearance of only yielding to threats. 
 No, it cannot 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, and God will 
 protect the good cause." 
 
 The Mexican officers warmly ap 
 plauded this haughty response, which 
 they were far from expecting. They 
 felt their courage rekindled, and did not 
 despair of obtaining better conditions. 
 
 A smile of disdain played round the 
 chiefs haughty lips. 
 
 " Good," he said ; " my father speaks 
 very loudly. The coyotes are bold 
 when they hunt the buffalo in packs. 
 My father has carefully reflected, and 
 is determined to accept the consequen 
 ces of his answer. He wishes for war, 
 then ?" 
 
 " No," the general quickly interpos 
 ed, " heaven forbid ! I should be glad 
 to settle this matter amicably with you, 
 chief, but honor forbids me subscribing 
 those disgraceful proposals which you 
 did not fear to lay before me." 
 
 " Is it really honor that has dictated 
 my father's answer ?" the Indian asked, 
 ironically. " He will permit me to 
 doubt it. In short, whatever be the 
 reason that guides him, 1 can but with 
 draw ; but, before doing so, I will give 
 him news of a friend whom he doubt 
 less impatiently expects.' 
 
 " What means that word, doubt 
 less ?" 
 
 " This," the Indian said, sharply. 
 " The warriors whom my father ex 
 pected to arrive to his aid this day have 
 been dispersed by my young 1 men, as 
 the autumn breeze sweeps away the 
 leaves. They will not come." 
 
 A murmur of surprise, almost of 
 terror, ran through the assembly. The 
 sachem let the long folds of his buffalo 
 robe fall back, tore from his girdle the 
 bleeding scalp that hung there, and 
 threw it at the general's feet. 
 
 "That," he said, gloomily, "is the 
 scalp of the man who commanded m> 
 father's warriors ! Does the chief of 
 the pale- faces recognize it ? This scalp 
 was raised by me from the head of th ; 
 man who was to arrive, and who, at this 
 hour, has set out for the happy hunting 
 grounds of his nation." 
 
 A shudder of terror ran round the 
 room at the sight of the sculp; the 
 general felt the small dose of courage 
 that had still animated him oozing out. 
 
 "Chief," he exclaimed, in a trembling 
 voice " is it possible you have done 
 that ?" 
 
 "I have done it," the sachem answer 
 ed, coldly. " Now, farewell. 1 am 
 about to join my young men, who are 
 impatient at my long absence." 
 
 With these words the Comanche 
 haughtily turned his back on the gover 
 nor, and walked toward the door. 
 
 " A few moments longer, chief," the 
 general said ; " perhaps we are nearer 
 an uuderstanding than you suppose." 
 
 The Comanche gave the speaker a 
 glance which made him quiver. 
 
 " Here is my last word," he said. 
 " I insist on the two prisoners being 
 handed over to me." 
 
 " They shall be." 
 
 " Good ; but no perfidity, no treach 
 ery !" 
 
 " We will act honorably," the gen 
 eral replied, not dreaming, of resenting 
 the insult conveyed in the Indian's 
 words. 
 
 " We shall see. My warriors and 
 myself will remain on the square till 
 my father has performed his promise. 
 If, within an hour, the pale-faces are 
 not free, the prisoners I hold will be 
 
104 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 pitilessly massacred, and the altepetl 
 plundered. J have spoken." 
 
 A gloomy silence greeted these ter 
 rible threats. The pride of the Mexi 
 cans was quelled, and they at length re 
 cognized that nothing could save them 
 from the vengeance of the Comanche 
 chief. 
 
 The general bowed in assent, not hav 
 ing strength to answer otherwise. The 
 sight of the scalp had paralyzed in him 
 all desire to contend longer. 
 
 Unicoctt left the hall, mounted his 
 horse again, and calmly awaited the ful 
 filment of the promise made to him. 
 
 When the Indians had left the coun 
 cil-chamber, the Mexicans rose tumult- 
 uously, for each feared the execution of 
 the chief's threats. 
 
 General Ventura was pressed on all 
 sides to make haste, and run no risk of 
 breaking his word. When the. governor 
 saw that his officers were as terrified as 
 himself, he re-assumed his coolness, and 
 cleverly profited by this state of mind, 
 in order to throw the responsibility off 
 himself, and appear only to act under 
 the impulse of others. 
 
 " Caballeros," he said, " you have 
 heard this man. You understood as 
 well as 1 did the menaces he dared to 
 offer us. Shall such an insult be left 
 unpunished? Will you allow your 
 selves to be thus braved in the heart of 
 the town by a handful of scoundrels, 
 and not attempt to inflict on them the 
 chastisement they deserve ? To arms, 
 Caballeros, and let us die bravely, if it 
 must be so, sooner than suffer this stain 
 on the old Spanish honor our fathers 
 transmitted to us !" 
 
 This warm address produced the ef 
 feet the general anticipated from it ; 
 that is to say, it redoubled, were that 
 possible, the terror of the hearers, who 
 had long been acquainted with their 
 chiefs cowardice, and knew how liltle 
 he could be depended on. 
 
 This sudden warlike order seemed to 
 them so unusual, and before all so in 
 opportune, that they pressed him to 
 atceept without delay the proposals dic 
 tated by the sachem. 
 
 This "was all the governor wanted. 
 
 He had the minutes of the council at 
 
 once drawn up, when it was signed by 
 all present, he put it in his pocket. 
 
 " As you insist," he said, " and no 
 thing can induce you to offer an honor 
 able resistance, I will myself proceed to 
 the prison, in order to avoid any mis 
 understanding, and have the doors open 
 ed for Don Miguel Zarate and General 
 Ibanez." 
 
 " Make haste, pray ?" the officers 
 answered. 
 
 The general, glad in his heart at hav 
 ing got out of the scrape so well, left 
 the Cabildo, and walked across the 
 square to the prison, which stood on the 
 opposite side. 
 
 The Comanches were motionless as 
 statues of Florentine bronze, leaning on 
 their weapons, with their eyes fixed on 
 the chief, ready to carry out his orders. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 FREE. 
 
 DON MIGUEL and General Ibanez 
 were completely ignorant of what was 
 going on outside, and the rumors of 
 the town did not reach their ears. Had 
 they deigned to question their jailer, the 
 latter, who was beginning to fear for 
 himself the effects of the ill-treatment 
 he had made the two gentlemen undergo, 
 would doubtless not have hesitated to 
 give them all possible information, for 
 the sake of regaining their favor; but 
 each time this man presented himself 
 before them, and opened his mouth to 
 speak, they turned their backs con 
 temptuously, giving him a sign to with 
 draw at once, and be silent. 
 
 On this day, according to their wont, 
 the two prisoners had risen at sunrise, 
 and then, with incredible coolness, be 
 gan conversing on indifferent topics. 
 
 Suddenly a great noise was heard in 
 the prison ; a clang of arms reached 
 the prisoners' ears, and hurried foot 
 steps approached the rooms in which 
 they were confined. 
 
 They listened. 
 
 " Oh, oh !" said Ibanez, " I fancy it 
 is for to-day at last." 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 165 
 
 " Heaven be praised !" Don Miguel 
 answered ; " I am glad they have made 
 up their minds to bring matters to a 
 conclusion." 
 
 " On my honor, and so am I," the 
 general said, gaily ; " time was begin 
 ning to hang heavy in this prison, where 
 a man has not the slightest relaxation. 
 We are going to see again that splendid 
 sun which seems afraid of showing itself 
 in this den. Viva Gristo! I feel de 
 lighted at the mere thought, and gladly 
 pardon my judges." 
 
 Still the noise drew nearer and nearer, 
 and confused voices were mingled with 
 the echoing steps in the passage, and 
 the rattling of sabres. 
 
 " Here they are," said Don Miguel ; 
 " we shall see them in a minute." 
 
 " They are welcome if they bring us 
 death, that supreme solace of the afflict 
 ed." 
 
 At this moment 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 officers. As 
 suredly, if the prisoners expected to 
 see anybody, it was not the worthy 
 General Ventura. 
 
 Ibanez' surprise was so great at this 
 unexpected apparition, that he could 
 not refrain from exclaiming, with that 
 accent of caustic gaiety which formed 
 the basis of his character : 
 
 " What the deuce do you want here, 
 Senor Governor ? Have you, too, sud 
 denly become a frightful conspirator, 
 such as we are accused of being ?" 
 
 Before answering, the general fell 
 back into a chair, wiping away the per 
 spiration that trickled down his fore 
 head, such speed had he displayed in 
 coining to the prison. Three or four 
 officers stood motionless on the thres 
 hold of the widely -open door. 
 
 Th* condemned men could not at all 
 understand the affair. 
 
 " Have you by any chance, my dear* 
 governor," General Ibanez said, gaily, 
 though not, believing a word of it, 
 " come to restore us to liberty 1 That 
 would be a most gallant action, and I 
 should feel deeply indebted to you for 
 it." 
 
 General Ventura raised his head, fixed 
 
 on the prisoners eyes sparkling with joy, 
 and said, in a panting voice : 
 
 " Yes, my friends, yes ; I would 
 come myself to tell you that you are 
 free ; I would not yield to any one else 
 the pleasure of announcing the good 
 news." 
 
 The prisoners fell back in amaze 
 ment. 
 
 "What!" General Ibanez exclaimed, 
 " you are speaking seriously ?" 
 
 Don Miguel attentively looked at the 
 governor, trying to read in his face the 
 reasons of his conduct. 
 
 " Come, come," General Ventura 
 cried, " this hole is frightful ; do not re 
 main any longer in- it." 
 
 " Ah !" Don Miguel remarked, bit 
 terly, " you find it frightful ; you have 
 been a long time in discovering the fact; 
 for we have lived in it nearly a month, 
 and the thought never once occurred to 
 you of disturbing our repose." 
 
 " Do not be angry with me, Don 
 Miguel," the governor answered eager 
 ly, "it was greatly against my will you 
 were detained so long; had it only de 
 pended on me you would have been 
 free ; but, thanks to Heaven, all is 
 settled now, arid I have succeeded in 
 having justice done you. Come away ; 
 do not remain a moment longer in this 
 pestilential den." 
 
 " Pardon me, Caballero," Don Mi 
 guel said coldly, " but, with your per 
 mission, we will remain a few moments 
 longer in it." 
 
 " Why so 1 ?" General Ventura asked, 
 opening his eyes to their fullest extent. 
 
 " I will tell you." 
 
 Don Miguel pointed to a chair, and 
 sat down himself. Ibanez following his 
 example. 
 
 There was a moment of deep silence 
 between these three men as they strove 
 to read each other's real secret 
 thoughts. 
 
 " 1 am waiting your pleasure to ex 
 plain yourself," the '.governor at last 
 said, as he was anxious to get away, and 
 time pressed. 
 
 " I am about doing so," Don Miguel 
 answered ; " you have come to tell us 
 we are free, sir; but you do not say on 
 what conditions." 
 
 " What do you mean by conditions?" 
 
166 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 the general asked, not understanding 
 him. 
 
 " Of course," Ibanez went on, sup 
 porting his friend ; " and these condi 
 tions, too, must suit us ; you must see, 
 my dear sir, we cannot leave this de 
 lightful place without knowing the why 
 or wherefore. Viva Oristo ! we are 
 not vagabonds to be got rid of in that 
 way ; we must know if we are justified 
 in accepting the proposals you have 
 just made." 
 
 " The general is right, sir," the haci- 
 endero said in his turn ; " the care of 
 our honor does not permit us to accept 
 a liberation which might stain it ; hence, 
 we shall not leave this prison until 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 ob 
 stinate prisoners. He racked his brains 
 in vain to discover why it was t:iat men 
 condemned to death could so peremp 
 torily decline their liberty. 
 
 His ideas were too narrow, his heart 
 was too cowardly for him to compre 
 hend the grandeur and nobility in this 
 determination on the part of two men, 
 who preferred an honorable death to a 
 branded life which they only owed to 
 the pity of their judges. Still, he must 
 induce them to quit the prison, for time 
 was fast slipping away, and their obsti 
 nacy might ruin everything. 
 
 Hence, General Ventura made up his 
 mind like a man. 
 
 "'Gentlemen,' 1 he said, with feigned 
 admiration,"! understand what noble 
 ness there is in your scruples, and am 
 happy to see that I was not mistaken in 
 the greatness of your character. You 
 can leave this prison in full security, 
 and take once more the station that be 
 longs to you in the world. I will l;iy 
 !io conditions on you ; you are free, 
 purely and 'simply. Here are the docu 
 ments connected with your trial, the 
 proofs produced against you ; take them 
 and destroy them, and accept my sin 
 cere, 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 scru 
 
 pulous or wiser in his generation, eager 
 ly clutched them, looked through them 
 to see that the governor was not deceiv 
 ing him, and then threw them into the 
 brasero, standing in the middle of the 
 room. In less than four minutes, all 
 this undigested mass was consumed. 
 
 General Ibanez watched them burn 
 ing with a certain degree of pleasure, 
 for he began to feel himself really free. 
 
 " I am waiting for you, gentlemen," 
 said the governor. 
 
 "One word more, by your leave," 
 the haciendero remarked. 
 
 " Speak, sir." 
 
 " On leaving this prison, where are 
 we to go ?" 
 
 " Wherever you please, gentlemen. 
 I repeat to you that you are perfectly 
 free, and can act as you think proper. 
 1 do not even ask your word of honor 
 to enter into no further conspiracy." 
 
 " Good sir," Don Miguel said, hold 
 ing out his hand to General Ventura, 
 "your conduct affects me thanks." 
 
 The governor blushed. 
 
 " Come, come,'' he said, to hide his 
 embarassment on receiving this so ill- 
 deserved praise. 
 
 The prisoners no longer hesitated to 
 follow him. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the news of Don 
 Miguel's deliverance had spread through 
 the town with the rapidity of a train of 
 gunpowder. The inhabitants, reassured 
 by the continence of the Comanches, and 
 knowing that they had only come to 
 save a man, in whose fate the entire 
 population felt interested, had ventured 
 to leave their houses, and at length 
 thronged the streets and squares; the 
 windows and roofs were filled with men, 
 women, and children, whose eyes, fixed 
 on the prison, awaited the moment of 
 Don Miguel's appearance. When he 
 did so, tremendous shouts greeted him. 
 
 Unicom walked up to the governor. 
 
 " My father has kept his promise," 
 ,he said, gravely, " 1 will keep mine; 
 the white prisoners are free ; 1 now de 
 part." 
 
 The governor listened to these words 
 with a blush ; the sachem returned to 
 the head of his war-party, which rapid 
 ly retired, followed by the shouts of a 
 mob intoxicated with joy. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 167 
 
 Don Miguel, perplexed by the scene 
 which had taken place in his presence, 
 and who began to suspect a mystery in 
 the governor's conduct, turned to him 
 to ask an explanation of the Indian 
 chiefs words an explanation the gov 
 ernor luckily escaped, owing to the 
 eagerness of the people who flocked up 
 to congratulate the prisoners on their 
 release. 
 
 On reaching the gate of the Cabildo, 
 General Ventura bowed courteously to 
 the two gentlemen, and hurried into 
 his palace, happy at having escaped so 
 cheaply, and not tearing with his own 
 hands the cloak of generosity which he 
 had paraded in the sight of his prison 
 ers. 
 
 " What do you think of all that ?" 
 the haciendero asked his friend. 
 
 " Hum !" General Ibanez muttered, 
 "the governor's conduct seems to me 
 
 D 
 
 rather queer ; but, no matter, we are 
 free. 1 confess to you, my friend, that 
 I should have.no objection to go a little 
 distance from this place, the air of 
 which, despite General Ventura's pro 
 testations, appears to me remarkably 
 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 Curumilla before him, with a smil 
 ing face. 
 
 Don Miguel and the general sup 
 pressed a cry of joy at the sight of the 
 grave and excellent Indian. 
 
 " Come!" he said to them, laconically. 
 
 They followed him, with some diffi 
 culty, through the crowd that accompa 
 nied them with shouts, and whom they 
 were obliged to stop and thank. On 
 reaching a small street near the square, 
 and which was- nearly deserted, Curum 
 illa led them to a house before 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 chiefs 
 hand ; " but how did you learn our de 
 liverance ?" 
 
 The Araucano smiled pleasantly. 
 
 " Let us go," he said, making no 
 other answer. 
 
 " Where to ?" Don Miguel asked. 
 
 "To join Koutonepi." 
 
 The three men started at full speed. 
 Ten minutes later they were out of the 
 town, and galloping across the plain. 
 
 " Oh !" General Ibanez said, gaily, 
 " how pleasant the fresh air is ! How 
 good it is to inhale it after remainim; 
 for two months stifled between tlia 
 walls of a prison !" 
 
 " Shall we soon arrive ]'' Don Miguel 
 asked. 
 
 " In an hour," the chief answered. 
 
 And they went on with renewed 
 speed. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 * THE MEETING. 
 
 ON reaching a spot where the trail 
 they were following formed a species of 
 fork, Curumilla stopped, and the two 
 gentlemen imitated him. 
 
 " That is your road," the Araucano 
 chief said. " At the end of that path 
 you will see Koutonepi's bivouac fire. 
 I must leave you here." 
 
 After uttering these words, Curumilla 
 turned his horse and started, after giv 
 ing them a parting wave of the hand. 
 
 The ulmen was not much of a talker 
 naturally ; generally, he did more than 
 he said, llis friends, convinced that 
 urgent necessity could alone have 
 forced him thus to break through his 
 habits, made no observation, but let 
 him go. When they were alone, they 
 gently relaxed the pace of their horses, 
 and proceeded at a canter. 
 
 General Ibanez was radiant. He in 
 haled the fresh air of the desert, which 
 dilated his wide chest, revelling in his 
 liberty. He thought of nothing but 
 enjoying the present, regardless of the 
 past, which, with his careless character, 
 he had already forgotten, only to 
 dream of the future, which he gazed on 
 through a prism of brilliant hues. 
 
 Don Miguel, on the contrary, felt, 
 during the last few moments, a sad 
 
168 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER 
 
 melancholy invade his mind. Not able 
 to account for the emotion he expe 
 rienced, he had a species of secret pre 
 sentiment that a misfortune was sus 
 pended over his head. In vain did lie 
 try to dispel these ideas, but they 
 constantly returned more obstinately 
 than ever and it was with a sort of 
 dread that he advanced in the direc 
 tion where he was to meet Valentine, 
 although he was his best friend, so 
 much did he fear that he would greet 
 his arrival with evil tidings. 
 
 The two gentlemen went on thus 
 for nearly half an hour without ex 
 changing a syllable; but, just as they 
 turned a corner in the path, they saw 
 a horseman about thirty paces in front 
 of them, barring the road, and appa 
 rently waiting for them. The Mexi-- 
 cans examined him attentively. 
 
 He was a tall man, well armed, 
 and wearing the garb of the rich ha- 
 cienderos ; but, singularly enough, a 
 black velvet mask prevented them dis 
 tinguishing his features. 
 
 By an instinctive movement Don 
 Miguel and his friend moved a hand 
 to their holsters, but they were empty. 
 
 "What is to be done?" the hacien- 
 dero asked the general. 
 
 " Go on, of course. We have just 
 escaped too great a peril for us to 
 fear this. Even in the event of the 
 mysterious being planted there before 
 us, like an equestrian statue, trying to 
 play us a trick, which is not impos 
 sible/' 
 
 a Let us trust to Heaven," Don Mi 
 guel muttered, and pushed on. 
 
 The distance separating them from 
 the stranger was soon cleared. On 
 coming within five yards of him, they 
 stopped. 
 
 " Santas tardes, Caballeros," said the 
 stranger, in a friendly voice. 
 
 " Santas tandes /" the gentlemen an 
 swered, in accord. 
 
 " I salute you, Don Miguel Zarate, 
 and you, General Ibanez," the stranger 
 then said. " 1 am happy to see you 
 at length safe and sound out of the 
 claws of that worthy General Ventura, 
 who, if he could, would certainly have 
 played you a trick." 
 
 " Caballero," 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 1 may recognize you." 
 
 " Gentlemen, if 1 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 that you are not mis 
 taken with regard to me, and I am 
 really your friend." 
 
 The two Mexicans bowed courteously 
 to each other, and the stranger went on. 
 
 " I knew that so soon as you were 
 free you would hasten to join that 
 worthy hunter Valentine, whom the 
 trappers and gambusinos along the 
 frontier have christened the ' Trail- 
 hunter.' I placed myself here, where 
 yu must infallibly pass, in order to 
 make you a communication of the ut 
 most importance, which .interests you 
 extremely." 
 
 " I am listening, sir," Don Miguel 
 responded with secret alarm ; * and I 
 beg you to accept, beforehand, my sin 
 cere thanks for the step you have taken 
 on my behalf." 
 
 " You will thank me when the proper 
 time comes, Don Miguel. To-day I 
 only warn you : at a later date I hope 
 to aid you, and my help will not prove 
 useless." 
 
 " Speak, sir ! You excite my curios 
 ity to the highest pitch, and 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. 
 This meeting of three horsemen, one of 
 whom was masked, in. this deserted 
 place, where no sound troubled the im 
 posing silence of solitude, had something 
 strange about it. 
 
 At length the mask 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 you are ignorant have 
 occurred since then ; but there is one I 
 must inform you of at once. On the 
 
THE TRAIL-HUXTER. 
 
 169 
 
 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 ex 
 claimed ; "and Valentine to whom 1 
 confided her, and who was responsible 
 for lier safety ?" 
 
 " Valentine attempted impossibilities 
 to save her ; but what can one man 
 effect against twenty ?" 
 
 Don Miguel shook his head mourn 
 fully. 
 
 " After researches, long, sterile, and 
 extraordinary efforts, a man providen 
 tially aided by Father Seraphin, at length 
 succeeded last night in taking Dona 
 Clara from her ravishers ; but Red 
 Cedar, advised by some extraordinary 
 chance, entered the house where the 
 maiden had sought shelter, and carried 
 her off again." 
 
 " Oh ! I will avenge myself on that 
 man !" the haciendero shouted, passion 
 ately. 
 
 The stranger's eyes flashed with a 
 lurid light though the holes in his mask. 
 
 " You will find your son and Father 
 Seraphin with Valentine. Red Cedar 
 intends to start this evening at the head 
 of a band of gambusinos, to go into the 
 deserts of the Rio Gila in search of a 
 placer, which his accomplice, Fray 
 Ambrosio, had indicated to him." 
 
 " Fray Ambrosio !" the haciendero 
 repeated, in stupor. 
 
 " Yes. Your former chaplain, who 
 served as spy to the 'squatter, revealed 
 your plans to him, and provided him 
 the means to enter the hacienda and 
 carry off your daughter." 
 
 " Good," Don Miguel said, in a hol 
 low voice. " I will remember." 
 
 " Red Cedar, I know not with what 
 design, is taking your daughter with 
 him into the desert." 
 
 "I will follow him, were it for a 
 thousand leagues," Don Miguel said, 
 resolutely. " Thanks to you for having 
 instructed me so fully. But whence 
 conies the interest you take in me so 
 gratuitously, since, as you say, I do not 
 know you ?" 
 
 " You shall learn at a later date, Don 
 Miguel. Now, before I leave you, one 
 last word an earnest warning." 
 
 " I listen attentively, Cabailero." 
 
 " Do not tell any one not even the 
 French hunter, not even your son of 
 our meeting. Let this secret be buried 
 in your breast. When you reach the 
 far west, if you see before you, at one 
 of your bivouacs, a piece of mahogany 
 bearing the impress of a horse's shoe, 
 rise at midnight, and leave 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 1 caunot tell 
 you to-day." 
 
 "Good. Thanks. I will do what 
 you tell me." 
 
 " You promised it ?" 
 
 " I swear it on my word as a gentle 
 man," Don Miguel said, as he took off 
 his hat. 
 
 " I accept your oath. Farewell." 
 
 " Farewell." 
 
 The stranger dug his spurs into his 
 horse's sides and the animal started off 
 as if impelled by a tornado. 
 
 The two- gentlemen looked after him 
 for a long time, admiring the grace and 
 ease of his movements; at length, when 
 horse and rider had disappeared in the 
 distance, Don Miguel went on again 
 pensively, while saying to the general 
 
 " Who can that man be ?" 
 
 " I know no more than you do. Viva 
 Gristo!" his friend answered, "but I 
 assure you I will know, even if to do so 
 I have to search all the thickets and 
 caverns in the desert." 
 
 " What," Don Miguel exclaimed, " do 
 you intend to come with me ?" 
 
 " Did you ever doubt it, Don Mi 
 guel ? if so, you insulted me. You will 
 need all your friends to go in search of 
 your daughter, and inflict on that demon 
 of a gringo squatter the chastisement he 
 deserves. No, no ; I will not leave you 
 under such circumstances, ' for that 
 would be committing a bad action ; be 
 sides, I shall not be sorry," he added 
 with a smile, " to get out of the sight 
 of the government for a time." 
 
 " My friend, I thank you," the haci 
 endero said, as he took his hand. "1 
 have long known that you were entirely 
 devoted to me ; I am pleased to receive 
 this new proof of your friendship." 
 
170 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 " And you accept it ?" the general 
 asked gaily. 
 
 " Most heartily ; the help of an iron 
 arm like yours must be most useful to 
 me under the painful circumstances in 
 which I am placed." 
 
 " That is settled, then ; we will start 
 together, Mil rayas ! and I swear we will 
 deliver Dona Clara." 
 
 " May Heaven grant it," the hacien- 
 dero said, sadly. 
 
 The conversation then dropped, and 
 the two friends proceeded in silence. A 
 quarter of an hour later they reached 
 the Trail-hunter's bivouac. 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 DONA CLARA. 
 
 VALENTINE had been warned, nearly 
 an hour previously, by Unicorn of the 
 result of the negotiations with the go 
 vernor of Santa Fe, and the immediate 
 liberation of the prisoners-; he was, 
 therefore, expecting them. Though 
 they were ignorant where to find him, 
 Valentine presumed that the chief would 
 leave some Indian to direct them, and, 
 therefore, did not feel at all surprised 
 at seeing them. 
 
 So soon as he noticed their approach 
 he walked to meet them, followed by 
 Don Pablo and the missionary, while 
 the haciendero and his comrade on their 
 side pricked on to join them sooner. 
 
 A few hours were spent, after the 
 first greetings were over, in a confe 
 rence, of which the poor child so auda 
 ciously carried off was the sole subject. 
 
 Valentine drew up with his friends 
 the plan of the campaign against Red 
 Cedar, which was so daring that it 
 , would have made a European nervous; 
 but the fYee adventurers who were 
 about to carry it out in no way feared 
 the mysterious dangers of the desert 
 which they were going to confront. 
 We say, free, because Father Seraphin 
 had taken leave of his friends and found 
 Unicorn, with whom he wished to go to 
 the Comanche villages, in the hope of 
 spreading the light of the Gospel there. 
 Still, he did not despair about meeting 
 
 his friends in the prairies, whither he 
 was himself proceeding. 
 
 Toward evening, Curumilla arrived. 
 The Araucano was covered with dust, 
 and his face damp with perspiration. 
 Not uttering a word, he sat down by 
 the fire, took his calumet from his 
 girdle, and began smoking. 
 
 Valentine let him do so without ask 
 ing a question, but so soon as he saw 
 him absorbed in his pipe, he laid his 
 hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " Well r he said to Mm. 
 
 " Curumilla has seen them." 
 
 " Good ; are they numerous ]" 
 
 " Ten times the number of fingers on 
 my two hands, and one more." 
 
 " Caramba !" Valentine exclaimed, 
 " are they so many as that ? We shall 
 have a tough job in that case." 
 
 "They are bold hunters," the chief 
 added. 
 
 " Hum ! do you know when they will 
 start r 
 
 " This evening, when the new moon 
 rises." 
 
 " Ah, ah ! I read their plan," the hun 
 ter said. "They intend crossing the 
 ford of the Toro before day." 
 
 Curumilla bowed his head in affirma 
 tion. 
 
 " That is true," Valentine remarked ; 
 "once the ford is passed they will be in 
 the desert, and have comparatively no 
 thing to fear, or at least they suppose 
 so. I must confess," he added, address 
 ing his friends, " that Red Cedar is a 
 remarkably clever scoundrel ; nothing 
 escapes him, but this time he has a 
 tough adversary. I have my revenge 
 to take on him, and, with the help of 
 Heaven-, it shall be exemplary'." 
 
 " What shall we do ?" Don Miguel 
 asked. 
 
 " Sleep," Valentine answered, " we 
 have still several hours before us, so let 
 us profit by them ; in the new life we 
 are beginning, we must neglect nothing, 
 the body and mind must repose, so that 
 we may act vigorously." 
 
 Curumilla had slipped away but now 
 returned, bringing with him two rifles, 
 pistols, and knives. 
 
 " My brothers had no weapons," he 
 said, as he laid his load before the Mexi 
 cans. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 171 
 
 The latter thanked him heartily; for, 
 owing to the foresight of Curumilla, 
 who thought of everything, they could 
 now enter 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 
 climbing through Dona Clara's window, 
 while 1'ray Ambrosio and Andres Ga- 
 rote 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. 
 
 Dona Clara, suddenly aroused, leaped 
 from the bed, uttering fearful cries at 
 the sight of the terrible apparition be 
 fore her. 
 
 " Silence," Red Cedar said to her, in 
 a threatening voice, as he placed the 
 point of his knife on her chest, " one 
 cry more, and 1 kill you like a dog." 
 
 The maiden, trembling with fright, 
 looked pitifully at the bandit; but Red 
 Cedar's face wore such an expression of 
 cruelty, that she understood how little 
 she had to hope from this man. She 
 addressed a silent prayer to Heaven, 
 and resigned herself to her fate. 
 
 The bandit gagged the poor child 
 with the rebozo that lay on the bed, 
 threw her over his shoulder, and clam 
 bered out of the window again. So 
 soon as he put foot on the ground, he 
 whistled lightly for his comrades to re 
 join him, which they did immediately, 
 and, still carrying his bun hen, he pro 
 ceeded with them in the direction of the 
 Rancho del Coyote. 
 
 During the walk, which was not a 
 long one, the bandits did not meet a 
 soul. 
 
 Andres opened the door and lit a 
 candle; the ruffians entered, and the 
 door was carefully bolted again. Thus, 
 utter only a few hours of liberty, the 
 wretched girl had fallen once more into 
 the hands of her ravisliers, and placed 
 again by them in the wretched room 
 where she had spent so many days in 
 prayer and weeping. 
 
 Red Cedar carried Dona Clara, who 
 was in a half-fainting state, to her room, 
 removed the rebozo, and then returned 
 to the bar. 
 
 "There;" he said, with satisfaction, 
 " that is all right ; the sheep has return 
 ed to the fold. What do you say, 
 reverend father ] This time let us hope 
 she will not escape us." 
 
 The monk smiled. 
 
 " We shall do well in not remaining 
 here long," he said. 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " Because this hiding-place is known 
 and will soon be visited." 
 
 The squatter shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "Listen! Fray Ambrosio," he sail, 
 with a sinister grimace, whioh he in 
 tended for a smile. " I predict that, 
 rogue as you are, you run a great 
 chance of dying in a fool's skin, if you 
 are not flayed beforehand, which may 
 easily be the case." 
 
 The monk shuddered. 
 
 Red Cedar's gaiety had the p^culiar- 
 ity of being even more fearful than his 
 anger. The squatter sut down on a 
 bench, and turned to the gambusino. 
 
 " Drink !" he said roughly. 
 
 Garote fetched a jar of mtzcal, which 
 he placed before his terrible accom 
 plice. 
 
 The latter, not taking the trouble to 
 pour the liquor into a glass, raised the 
 jar to his lips, and drank till breath 
 failed him. 
 
 " Hum !" he said, with a click of 
 his tongue, " that's pleasant tipple when 
 you're thirsty. Listen to my orders, 
 my dear children, and try to 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, for you are not wanted 
 here, but your presence is necessary at 
 Cierro Prietfo, where our comrades are 
 encamped." 
 
 " I will follow you," the young man 
 replied, laconically. 
 
 " Good ! Now, 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 absurd, that the 
 idea will never enter their heads ; so 
 you can be at ease, and no one will 
 trouble your peace of mind. To-mor- 
 BOW, so soon as the moon rises, you 
 will make the girl put on an Indian 
 
172 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 dress, mount her, and come to me at 
 Cierro Prieto. Immediately after your 
 arrival we shall start." 
 
 " Good !" Fray Ambrosio answered. 
 " we will take care." 
 
 " 1 expect so ; for, if you do not, I 
 wouldn't give a cuartillo for your ac 
 cursed hide my reverend friend." 
 
 After uttering these friendly words, 
 the squatter seized the jar of mezcal, 
 emptied it at a draught, and sent it fly 
 ing across the room, where it broke to 
 pieces. 
 
 " Good bye till to-morrow," he then 
 said, " come, Nathan." 
 
 " Till to-morrow," they answered. 
 
 The squatter and his son left the 
 rancho, and walked on silently side by 
 side, plunged in gloomy reflections pro 
 duced by the events of the night. They 
 soon left the town. 
 
 The night was gloomy, but darkness 
 did not exist for squatters accustomed 
 to find their way anywhere, and never 
 dreaming of going astray. They walk 
 ed thus for a long time, with slung rifle, 
 not exchanging a word, but listening to 
 the slightest noise and sounding, the 
 darkness with their tiger-cat eyes. 
 
 All at once they heard the firm foot 
 fall of a man coming towards them. 
 They cocked their rifles, ready for any 
 emergency. A voice was then heard, 
 though the person to whom it belonged 
 was invisible : 
 
 " My brothers must not fire ; they 
 would kill a frienS." 
 
 The words were Apache a language 
 well known to the squatters. 
 
 " Tis an Indian," said Nathan. 
 
 " Do you think I did not recognize 
 him ?" Red Cedar replied, brutally ; 
 " then," he added, in the stlme 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. 1 ' 
 
 " Is it thus," the Indian continued, 
 " that the ' Maneater' receives the guide 
 whom Stanapat, the Great Chief of the 
 Apaches, sends him ? In that case, 
 good-bye. 1 will retire." 
 
 " One moment," the squatter said, 
 sharply, as he lowered his rifle, and 
 made his son a sign to follow his ex 
 ample., " 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 
 word, he was so well disguised, that 
 Valentine himself could no: have recog 
 nized 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 manner. He had long been ac 
 quainted with Stanapat, the most fero 
 cious warrior of all the Indian nations 
 that traverse the immense regions of 
 the Rio Gila, and whom we shall pre 
 sently visit. 
 
 After several questions, which Eagle- 
 wing answered without hesitation or 
 once tripping, Red Cedar, convinced 
 that he was really the man the Apache 
 chief had promised to send him, dis 
 missed all doubt, and conversed with 
 him in the mpst friendly spirit, inquir 
 ing after certain warriors he had for 
 merly known. 
 
 " What is my brother's name ]" he 
 asked, in conclusion. 
 
 "The Heart of Stone!" Eagle-wing 
 replied. 
 
 " 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 gambnsinos, 
 established in a formidable position on 
 the top of a rock called the Cierro 
 Prieto (Black Mountain). 
 
 The miners greeted Red Cedar's 
 arrival with the most lively joy,- for his 
 presence announced a speedy departure; 
 and all these semi-savages, the greater 
 part of whose life had been spent in the 
 prairies, were anxious to quit, civiliza 
 tion to re-assume their adventurous 
 career, which was so full of charms and 
 strange incidents. 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 173 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 EL VADODELTORO. 
 
 RED CEDAR reasoned correctly wher 
 he told Fray Ambrosio and Garote that 
 Dona Clara was in safety at the rancho, 
 and no one would dream of seeking hei 
 there. In truth, Valentine knew the 
 squatter's cunning too well to suppose 
 tiiat he would commit the impudence 
 of bringing his prisoner back to the 
 very spot where she was discovered. 
 
 The squatter's two accomplices passed 
 the day quietly in playing, on credit, at 
 monte; each cheating with a dexterity 
 which did honor to their knowledge of 
 that noble game. No one came to dis 
 turb them, or cast an indiscreet; glance 
 into this famous den, which, in the 
 blight sunshine, had an air of respect 
 ability pleasant to look on, and amply 
 sufficient to dispel all suspicions. 
 
 About nine in the evening, the moon, 
 though new, rose magnificently on a 
 deep blue sky, studded with brilliant 
 stars. 
 
 " 1 fancy it is time to get ready, gos 
 sip," Fray Ambrosio said, " the moon 
 is peering through the trees in your 
 neighbor's garden." 
 
 " You are right, Senor Padre, we will 
 be off; but let me, 1 implore you, first 
 finish this deal ; it is one of the most 
 magnificent I ever witnessed. Caspita! 
 I will bet a nugget as big as my thumb 
 on the seven of clubs." 
 
 " I'll back the two of spades. Some 
 thing tells me it will turn up fir.st, 
 especially if you pull up the sleeves of 
 your jacket, which must be horribly in 
 the way when dealing." 
 
 " Oh dear, no, I assure you ; but stay, 
 what did 1 tell you? there is the seven 
 of clubs." 
 
 ''That is really extraordinary," Fray 
 Ambrosio replied, with feigned surprise, 
 for he was not duped by the gambusi- 
 no's trickery ; " but I fancy we had 
 better make haste." 
 
 " Decidedly," said Andres, as he hid 
 his greasy cards in his vaquera boots, 
 and proceeded to the room in which 
 Dona Clara was confined. She follow 
 ed him out, weeping bitterly. 
 
 " Come, come," the gambusino said 
 11 
 
 to her, " dry your tears, senorita ; we 
 do not mean you any harm. Hang it 
 all ! who knows but this may end per 
 haps better than you expect; ask that 
 holy monk what he thinks." 
 
 Fray Ambrosio bowed an assent, but 
 the maiden made no response to the 
 gambusino's consolation ; she allowed 
 herself to be disguised unresistingly, but 
 still continued to weep. 
 
 " In truth, it is absurd," the worthy 
 Andres muttered, in an aside to himself, 
 while attiring his prisoner and looking 
 covetously at the pearls with which she 
 was adorned, " to waste gold and pearls 
 in this fashion ; would it not be much 
 better to use them in buying something 
 servicable ? What she has on her is 
 worth at least three thousand piastres 
 what a splendid game of monte a fellow 
 could have with that sum and if that 
 demon of a Red Cedar had only been 
 willing well, we shall see presently." 
 
 While making these judicious reflec 
 tions, the gambusino had completed the 
 maiden's Indian toilet. He perfected 
 the disguise by throwing a zarape over 
 her shoulders; then giving a parting 
 glance round his domicile, he put in his 
 pocket a pack of cards accidently left 
 on the table, drank a large glass of 
 spirits., and left the room, followed by 
 Dona Clara and the monk, who, in spite 
 of the varying incidents of the last few 
 days had regained all his good humor, 
 doubtless owing to the good company 
 in which he was, and the game of monte 
 that inveterate passion in every Mex 
 ican. 
 
 Dona Clara was placed on a horse ; 
 Andres and the monk also mounted, 
 md leaving the house to the problem*!- 
 cal care of Providence, the gambusino 
 gave the signal for departure. He 
 nade a wide circuit, -to avoid passing 
 .hrough the Presidio, and then started 
 at a gallop in the direction of the Cierro 
 r*etro. 
 
 Red Cedar had lost no time, and all 
 was ready for departure. The new- 
 lOiners did not even dismount, but so 
 oon as they were sighted, the caravan, 
 lomposed, as we have stated of some 
 luudred and twenty resolute men, after 
 brming in Indian file, started in the 
 direction of the prairies, having first 
 
174 
 
 THE TRAIL-HUNTER." 
 
 prudently detached two scouts to watch 
 the neighborhood. 
 
 Nothing is so mournful as a night 
 inarch in an unknown country, covered 
 with snares of every description, when 
 you fear least the ever-watchful enemy 
 may pounce on you from every bush. 
 
 Thus, the gambusinos, restless, and 
 starting at the slightest rustling of the 
 leaves, advanced silently and gloomily, 
 with their eyes fixed on the clumps that 
 grew along the wayside, rifle in hand, 
 ready to fire at the slightest suspicious 
 movement. They marched, however, 
 lor upwards of three hours, and nothing 
 happened to justify their fears ; a solemn 
 calmness continued to prevail around 
 them. Gradually these apprehensions 
 were dissipated; they began talking in 
 a suppressed voice, and laughing at their 
 past terrors, when they reached, on the 
 banks of the Del Norte, the vado, or 
 Ford del Toro. 
 
 In the interior of Southern America, 
 and specially in New Mexico, a coun 
 try still almost entirely unknown, the 
 means of communication are nil, and 
 consequently bridges may be looked 
 tor in vain. There are only two me 
 thods of crossing even the widest riv 
 ers looking for a ford, or, if you are 
 in a great hurry, forcing your horse 
 into the oft-times rapid current, and 
 trying to reach the other bank by 
 swimming. 
 
 The squatter had selected the first 
 method, and in a few minutes the 
 whole party was in the water. Al 
 though th-e ground of the ford was un 
 even, and at times the horses were up 
 to their chests, and compelled to swim, 
 t.ie gambuaiuo managed to get across 
 Saiely. 
 
 " It is our turn now, Heart of Stone," 
 the squatter said, addressing Eagle- 
 \ving; "you see that our rnen are in 
 saietv, and only await us to set out 
 again." 
 
 " The squaw first," the Indian replied, 
 laconically. 
 
 4i That is true, chief," the squatter 
 said, and, turning to the prisoner, " Go 
 across," he said to her, coarsely. 
 
 The maiden, not deigning to answer, 
 boldly made her horse enter the river, 
 and the three men followed. 
 
 The night was dark, the sky covered 
 .with clouds, and the moon, constantly 
 veiled, only shone forth at lengthened 
 intervals, which rendered the passage 
 difficult and even dangerous, as it did 
 not allow objects to be distinguished, 
 even at a distance. 
 
 Still, after a few seconds, Red Cedar 
 fancied he saw that 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. He push 
 ed his horse forward, to assure himself 
 of the reality of the fact ; but suddenly 
 a rigorous hand seized his right leg, and 
 before he could even think of resisting, 
 he was hurled back into the water, and 
 his throat seized by an Indian. 
 
 Andres Garote hurried to his assist 
 ance. 
 
 During this time, Dona Clara's horse, 
 probably obeying a hidden impulse, 
 was proceeding still further from the 
 spot where the gambusinos had landed. 
 
 Some of them, at the head of whom 
 were Dick, Harry, and the squatter's 
 three sons, perceiving what was going 
 on, returned to the water, to proceed to 
 their chief's help, while the others, guid 
 ed by Fray Ambrosio, galloped down 
 the river bank, in order to cut off re 
 treat, when Dona Clara's horse landed. 
 
 Andres Garote, after several fruitless 
 efforts, succeeded in catching Red 
 Cedar's horse, which he brought to him 
 at the moment when the latter had 
 scalped his enemy. 
 
 The American got into his saddle 
 again, reached the bank, and tried to re 
 store some order among his band, while 
 actually watching the incidents of the 
 silent drama being played in the river 
 between Eagle-wing and the young 
 Spanish girl. 
 
 The Coras sachem had urged his steed 
 in pursuit of Dona Clara's, and both 
 were following almost the same line 
 down the stream, the former striving to 
 catch up the latter, who, for her part, 
 was doing her utmost to widen the dis 
 tance between them. Suddenly tlie 
 Coras horse gave a leap, while uttering 
 a snort of pain, and began madly beat- 
 in the water with its forelegs, while 
 the river was tinged with blood around 
 it. The chief, perceiving that his horse 
 
THE TRAIL-HUNTER. 
 
 175 
 
 was mortally wounded, leaped from the 
 saddle, and leant over the side, ready to 
 .trfip off. 
 
 At this moment, a hideous face ap 
 peared flush with water, and a hand was 
 Wretched out to grasp him. With that 
 imperturbable coolness that never de 
 serts the Indians, even under the most 
 v-ritical circumstances, the Coras seized 
 hi.s tomahawk, split his enemy's skull 
 open, and glided into the river. 
 
 A formidable war-yell was, at (his 
 moment, heard from the forest, and 
 some fifty shots were fired from both 
 banks at once, illumining the scene with 
 their fugitive flashes. 
 
 A multitude of redskins rushed on the 
 gambusinos, and a terrible fight com 
 menced. 
 
 The Mexicans, taken unawares, de 
 fended themselves at first poorly, giving 
 ground and seeking shelter behind trees ; 
 but, obeying the thundering voice of the 
 squatter, who performed prodigies of 
 valor while exciting his comrades to 
 sell their lives dearly, they regained 
 courage, formed in close column, and 
 charged the Indians furiously, beating 
 them down with the butts of their mus 
 kets, or slashing them with their ma 
 chetes. 
 
 The combat was short; the redskins, 
 who were only a party of marauding 
 Pawnees, seeing the ill-result of their 
 surprise, grew discouraged, and disap 
 peared as rapidly as tliey had come. 
 Two minutes later calmness and silence 
 were so perfectly re-established, that 
 had it not been for a few wounded gam- 
 businos, and several Indians stretched 
 dead on the battle-field, the strange 
 
 scene would have appeared as a dream. 
 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 be 
 hind the young lady, was guiding her 
 horse to the bank, which it soon reach 
 ed. 
 
 " Well ?" the squatter asked. 
 
 " The Pawnees are cowardly coyotes," 
 the Coras answered, pointing to two 
 human scalps that hung all bloody from 
 his girdle; "they fly like old women, 
 so soon as they see the war-plume of a 
 warrior of my nation." 
 
 "Good !" the squatter said, gleefullv, 
 " my brother is, a great warrior ; he has 
 a friend." 
 
 The Coras bowed with a smile of in 
 describable 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 centre of the 
 caravan, and the band started again. 
 
 An hour later, a second party of 
 horsemen also crossed the Vado del 
 Toro. It was much less numerous than 
 the first, as it consisted of only five 
 men, but they were Valentine, Curu- 
 milla, Don Miguel, his son, and Gene 
 ral Ibanez. 
 
 The real struggle was about to com- 
 mence : behind them they Jeft the civi 
 lized world, to find themselves face to 
 'ace on the desert with their enemies. 
 
 (Those of our readers who take an in- 
 jfcerest in the Trail-hunter, we must ask 
 to follow his adventures through a se 
 cond volume, to be called THE PIRATES 
 OF THE PRAIKIES.) 
 
 THE END. 
 
IN PRESS AND NEARLY READY. 
 
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CHARLES DICKENS' WORKS, 
 
 Xwenty-eigiit JL>ilerent Editions. 
 
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 " PETERSONS' " are the only complete and uniform editions of Charles Dickens' Works ever published injh 
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 DUODECIMO ILLUSTRATED EDITION. IN 3O VOLUMES. 
 
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 Nicholas Nickleby. Two vols., cloth, 2.50 
 
 David Copper field. Two vols., cloth, 2.50 
 
 Oliver Twist. Two volumes, cloth, 250 
 
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 Dickens' IVew Stories. One vol., cloth,.... 1.25 
 Message from Sea. One vol., cloth, 1.25 
 
 Price of a set, in Half calf, antique, $75.00 
 
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 PEOPLE'S DUODECIMO EDITION. IN 17 VOLUMES. 
 
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 Iiittle Dorrit. 
 Pickwick Papers. 
 Barnaby Rudge. 
 
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 Full Law Library style, 3D 00 I " Half calf, full gilt backs, etc., 42.00 
 
 Old Curiosity Shop. 
 Bleak House. 
 David Copperfteld. 
 Dombey and Son. 
 Nicholas Nickleby. 
 Martin Chuzzlewit. 
 
 Christmas Stories. 
 Sketches by " Boz." 
 Dickens' New Stories. 
 Oliver Twist. 
 Message from Sea. 
 
 Half calf, or half Turkey, *.. 34.00 
 
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 ILLUSTRATED OCTAVO EDITION. IN 17 VOLUMES. 
 
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 Oliver Twist. 
 Dickens' New Stories. 
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 LIBRARY OCTAVO EDITION. IN 7 VOLUMES. 
 
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 the whole of all of the above works by Charles Dickens, illustrated, and bound in various styles. 
 
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 CHEAP EDITION, PAPER COVER. IN 22 VOLUMES. 
 
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 Lamplighter's Story. 
 David Copperfield. 
 Dombey and Son. 
 Holiday Stories. 
 Nicholas Nickleby. 
 Martin Chnzzlewlt. 
 
 Bleak House. Pic-Nic Papers 
 
 *& Copies of any work, in cloth, or in paper cover, or any set of either of the Twenty-Eight Editions, in any of th 
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 Published and for sale by T. B. PETERSOIV & BROTHERS, 
 
 Great Expectations. 
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 Little Dorrit. 
 
 Message from the Sea. 
 Christmas Stories. 
 Dickens' Short Stories. 
 Sketches by "Boz." 
 Dickens' New Stories. 
 American Notes. 
 Oliver Twist. 
 
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 Trm stories in "Peterson" aro co/icd"d to bo We tost pulilisherl anyw'ic.rc. Tlie editors are Mrs. *nn S. Stephens, author 
 "Mary Derwftit.' '-Kaslii. 11 and Faini.ie." and Charles J. !' ter>n. until -r'of " Kat<- Aylesfor i," "The Valley Farm," etc., etc.: n 
 they are assisted I y Mis. lieiiin >n. Frank l.ee Ketieilict. by the author of ">u^y l,s Diary " by T. S. Arthur E. L. Chandler Moult. 
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 THE JACOBITE'S DAUGHTER; a Tale of the '45, 
 
 BY MRS. AHN S. STEPHENS. 
 
 AMY WINTHROP'S ENGAGEMENT; a Tale of to- da: 
 
 BY CARRY STANLEY. 
 
 TEE MURRAYS of MURRAY HOUSE; a Tale of '7< 
 
 BY CHARLES J. PETERSON. 
 
 GETTING INTO SOCIETY; a Tale of to-da^ 
 
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