The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan War Read online

  CHAPTER II

  INDIAN DIPLOMACY.

  The night passed calm and peaceful. At the moment when the sun appearedon the horizon, saluted by the deafening concert of the birds, hiddenbeneath the foliage, Blue-fox, who had hitherto remained motionless,extended his right arm in the direction of the monk, who was lying byhis side, and gently touched him with his hand. This touch, slight as itwas, sufficed, however, to arouse Fray Antonio.

  There are moments in life when, although the body reposes, the mindretains all its delicate perceptions and vigilance; the monk was in asimilar situation. The gentleness the Apaches displayed towards him onthe previous night was so extraordinary, and opposed to their usualhabit of treating white men, their inveterate foes, that the monk,despite the coolness which formed the basis of his character, understoodthat the strange conduct of the men into whose power he had fallen mustresult from very powerful motives, and that, in spite of the pretendedfriendship they showed him, he would do well to keep on his guard, inorder to be able to make head against the storm, from whatever quarterit might come.

  In consequence of this reasoning, while taking advantage of the friendlyfeeling of the Indians, he craftily watched their movements, onlyyielded to sleep with great circumspection, and then slept with one eyeopen, to employ the vulgar expression. Hence at the first signal he wasready to respond to the Indian's summons with a vivacity that brought anequivocal smile upon the latter's stern features. The Redskins arephysiognomists by nature; and, in spite of the tranquillity the monkaffected, Blue-fox had, from certain signs that never deceive, guessedthe secret alarm that internally devoured him.

  "Has my brother slept well?" the Indian asked in his hoarse voice; "TheWacondah loves him, has watched over his sleep, and kept Nyang, thegenius of evil, away from his dreams."

  "I have, indeed, slept well, Chief, and I thank you for the cordialhospitality you have been pleased to grant me."

  A smile played round the Indian's lips, as he continued:--

  "My father is one of the Chiefs of prayer of his nation, the God of thePalefaces is powerful, He protects those who devote themselves to Hisservice."

  As this remark required no answer, the monk contented himself by bowingin the affirmative. Still, his anxiety increased; beneath the Chiefsgentle words he fancied he could hear the hoarse voice of the tiger,which licks its lips ere devouring the booty it holds gasping in itsterrible claws.

  Fray Antonio had not even the resource of pretending not to understandthe dangerous speaker, for the Chief expressed himself in bad Spanish, alanguage all the Indian tribes understand, and which, despite theirrepugnance to use it, they still employ in their dealings with the whitemen.

  The morning was magnificent; the trees, with their dew-laden leaves,seemed greener than usual; a slight mist, impregnated with the softmatutinal odours, rose from the ground, and was sucked up by thesunbeams, which with each moment grew warmer. The whole camp was stillsunk in sleep; the Chief and the monk were alone awake. After a moment'ssilence, Blue-fox continued:--

  "My father will listen," he said; "a Chief is about to speak; Blue-foxis a Sachem, his tongue is not forked, the words his chest breathes areinspired by the Great Spirit."

  "I am listening," Fray Antonio replied.

  "Blue-fox is not an Apache, although he wears their costumes, and leadsone of their most powerful tribes on the war trail; Blue-fox is a SnakePawnee, his nation is as numerous as the grains of sand on the bordersof the great lake. Many moons ago, Blue-fox left the hunting grounds ofhis nation, never to return to them, and became an adopted son of theApaches; why did Blue-fox act thus?"

  The Chief interrupted himself. The monk was on the point of answeringthat he did not know the fact, and cared very little about learning it,but a moment's reflection made him understand the danger of such ananswer to a man so irritable as the one he was now talking with.

  "The brothers of the Chief were ungrateful to him," he replied withfeigned interest, "and the Sachem left them; after shaking off hismoccasins at the entrance of their village."

  The Chief shook his head in negation.

  "No," he answered, "the brothers of Blue-fox loved him, they still weepfor his absence; but the Chief was sad, a friend had abandoned him, andtook away his heart."

  "Ah!" said the monk, not at all understanding.

  "Yes," the Indian continued; "Blue-fox could not endure the absence ofhis friend, and left his brothers to go in search of him."

  "Of course you have found the person again, Chief, to whom you devotedyourself?"

  "For a long time Blue-fox sought, but did not succeed in obtaining anynews of him; but one day he at length saw him again."

  "Good, and now you are re-united?"

  "My father does not understand," the Indian answered drily.

  This was perfectly correct. The monk did not understand a syllable ofwhat it pleased the Chief to tell him--the more so, as this obscurenarrative interested him but very slightly; and while the Apache wasspeaking, he was cudgelling his brains to discover the motives for thisconfidence. The consequence was that most of the words uttered by theChief struck his ear, but only produced an empty sound, whose meaningdid not reach his mind; but the peremptory accent with which Blue-foxuttered the last sentence, aroused him, and while recalling him to afeeling of his present position, made him comprehend the danger of notseeming to take an interest in the conversation.

  "Pardon me, Chief," he eagerly answered; "on the contrary, I perfectlyunderstand; but I am subject to a certain absence of mind completelyindependent of my will, which I hope you will not feel offended at, forI assure you it is no fault of mine."

  "Good, my father is like all the Chiefs of Prayer of the Palefaces, histhoughts are constantly directed to the Wacondah."

  "So it is, Chief," the monk exclaimed, delighted at the way in which hisapology was accepted; "continue your narrative, I beg, for I am nowmost anxious to listen to it."

  "Wah! My father constantly traverses the prairies of the Palefaces."

  "Yes, for the duties of my office oblige me to--"

  Blue-fox quickly interrupted him.

  "My father knows the pale hunters of these prairies?"

  "Nearly all."

  "Very good; one of these hunters is the friend so deeply regretted byBlue-fox."

  "Who is he?" the monk asked.

  The Indian did not seem to hear the question, for he went on--

  "Very often the Redskin warrior has been led a short distance from hisfriend by the incidents of the chase, but never near enough to makehimself known."

  "That is unfortunate."

  "The Chief would like to see his friend, and smoke the calumet of peacewith him at the council fire, while conversing about old times, and theperiod when, as children of the same tribe, they traversed together thehunting grounds of the Sachem's terrible nation."

  "Then the hunter is an Indian?"

  "No, he is a Paleface; but if his skin is white, the Great Spirit hasplaced an Indian heart in his bosom."

  "But why does not the Chief frankly go and join his friend, if he knowswhere he is? He would be probably delighted to see him again."

  At this insinuation, which he was far from anticipating, the Chieffrowned, and a cloud momentarily crossed his face; but the monk was toolittle of an observer to remark this emotion: he had asked the question,as he would have done any other, unmeaningly, and simply to show theChief by replying that he was an attentive listener. After a fewseconds, the Indian reassumed that apathy which the Redskins rarely putoff, and only when taken by surprise, and continued--

  "Blue-fox does not go to meet his friend, because the latter is notalone, and has with him enemies of your Chief."

  "That is different, and I can understand your prudence."

  "Good," the Indian added, with a sardonic smile, "wisdom speaks by themouth of my rather; he is certainly a Chief of prayer, and his lipsdistil the purest honey."

  Fray Antonio drew himself up, and his alarm was beginning to
bedissipated; he saw vaguely that the Redskin wished to ask something ofhim--in short, that he wanted his help. This thought restored hiscourage, and he tried to complete the effect he fancied he had producedon his Machiavellian questioner.

  "What my brother is unable to do, I can undertake," he said, in aninsinuating voice.

  The Apache gave him a piercing glance.

  "Wah!" he replied, "Then my father knows where to find the Chiefsfriend?"

  "How should I know it?" the monk objected; "You have not told me hisname yet."

  "That is true; my father is good, he will forgive me. So he does not yetknow who the Pale hunter is?"

  "I know him, perhaps, but up to the present I am ignorant whom the Chiefalludes to."

  "Blue-fox is rich; he has numerous horses; he can assemble round histotem one hundred warriors, and ten times, twenty times more. If myfather is willing to serve the Sachem, he will find him grateful."

  "I ask nothing better than to be agreeable to you. Chief, if it lies inmy power; but you must explain: clearly what I have to do, in order thatI may make no mistake."

  "Good; the Sachem will explain everything to his father."

  "In that way, nothing will be easier."

  "Does my father believe so?"

  "Well, I do not see what can prevent it."

  "Then my father will listen. Among all the Pale hunters, whose moccasinstrample the prairie grass in all directions, there is one who is braverand more terrible than the rest; the tigers and jaguars fly at hisapproach, and the Indian warriors themselves are afraid to cope withhim. This hunter is no effeminate Yori; the blood of the Gachupinos doesnot flow in his veins; he is the son of a colder land, and his ancestorsfought for a lengthened period with the Long Knives of the East."

  "Good," the monk said; "from what the Chief tells me, I see that thisman is a Canadian."

  "That is the name given, I think, to the nation of my friend."

  "But among all the hunters I am acquainted with, there is only one whois a Canadian."

  "Wah!" said the Chief, "Only one?"

  "Yes; his name is Tranquil, I think, and he is attached to theLarch-tree hacienda."

  "Wah! That is the very man. Does my father know him?"

  "Not much, I confess, but still sufficiently to present myself to him."

  "Very good."

  "Still, I warn you, Chief, that this man, like all his fellows, leads anextremely vagabond life, being here today and gone tomorrow; so that Iam in great doubt as to where I should seek him."

  "Wah! my father need not trouble himself about that; the Sachem willlead him to the camp of the Tiger killer."

  "In that case, very good; I will undertake the rest."

  "My father must carefully retain in his heart the words of Blue-fox. Thewarriors are awaking; they must know nothing. When the hour arrives, theChief will tell my father what he wants of him."

  "As you please, Chief."

  The conversation broke off here. The warriors were really awaking, andthe camp, so quiet a few moments previously, had now the aspect of ahive, when the bees prepare at sunrise to go in search of their dailycrop. At a sign from the Chief, the hachesto, or public crier, mounted afallen tree, and twice uttered a shrill cry. At this appeal all thewarriors, even those still lying on the ground, hastened to rangethemselves behind the Chief. A deep silence then prevailed for severalminutes; all the Indians, with their arms folded on their chest, andtheir faces turned to the rising sun, awaited what the Sachem was aboutto do.

  The latter took a calabash full of water, which the hachesto handed him,and in which was a spray of wormwood. Then raising his voice, hesprinkled toward the four cardinal points, saying--

  "Wacondah, Wacondah! Thou unknown and omnipotent spirit, whose universeis the temple, Master of the life of man, protect thy children!"

  "Master of the life of man, protect thy children!" the Apaches repeatedin chorus, respectfully bowing.

  "Creator of the great sacred Tortoise, whose skill supports the world,keep far from us Nyang, the genius of evil! Deliver our enemies to us,and give us their scalps. Wacondah! Wacondah! Protect thy children!"

  "Wacondah! Wacondah! Protect thy children!" the warriors repeated.

  The Sachem then bowed to the sun, and then towards the contents of thecalabash, saying--

  "And thou, sublime star, visible representative of the omnipotent andinvincible Creator, continue to pour thy vivifying heat on the huntinggrounds of thy Red Sons, and intercede for them with the Master of life.May this clear water I offer thee be grateful. Wacondah! Wacondah!Protect thy children!"

  "Wacondah! Wacondah! Protect thy children!" the Apaches repeated, andfollowed their Chief's example by kneeling reverently. The latter thentook a medicine rod from the hachesto, and waved it several times overhis head, while shouting in a loud voice--

  "Nyang, spirit of evil, rebel against the Master of life; we brave anddespise thy power, for the Wacondah protects us!"

  All the congregation uttered a loud yell, and rose. When the morningprayer had been said, and the rites performed, each man began attendingto his daily duties.

  Fray Antonio had witnessed with extreme astonishment this sacred andaffecting ceremony, whose details, however, escaped his notice, for thewords uttered by the Chief had been in the dialect of his nation, andconsequently incomprehensible to the monk. Still, he experienced acertain delight on seeing that these men, whom he regarded asbarbarians, were not entirely devoid of better feelings, and religiousfaith.

  The expiring campfires were rekindled, in order to prepare the morningmeal, while scouts started in every direction, to assure themselves thatthe road was free, and no enemy on the watch. The monk, being nowcompletely reassured, and beginning to grow accustomed to his newposition, ate with good appetite the provisions offered him, and made noobjection to mount the horse the Chief indicated to him, when theyprepared to set out on the termination of the meal.

  Fray Antonio was beginning to find that the savages, who had beenrepresented to him in such gloomy colours, were not so wicked as theywere said to be, and he was almost inclined to believe that they hadbeen calumniated. In truth, their hospitality had never once been indefault; on the contrary, they had apparently studied to please him.

  They rode on for several hours along tracks marked by the wild beasts,forced, through the narrowness of the paths, to go in Indian file, thatis to say, one behind the other; and although the monk perceived thatthe Sachem constantly kept by his side, he did not feel at all alarmedby it, remembering the conversation they had in the morning.

  A little before midday the band halted on the bank of a small stream,shadowed by lofty trees, where they intended to wait till the great heathad passed over. The monk was not at all vexed at this delay, whichenabled him to rest in the cool. During the halt Blue-fox did not onceaddress him, and the monk made no attempt to bring on a conversation, ashe much preferred enjoying a siesta.

  At about four P.M. the band mounted, and set out again; but this time,instead of going at a walking pace, they galloped. The Indians, by theway, only recognize these two paces; they consider trotting anabsurdity, and we confess that we are somewhat of their opinion. Theride was long; the sun had set for more than two hours, and still theIndians galloped. At length, at a signal from their Chief, they halted.Blue-fox then went up to the monk, and drew him a little aside.

  "We shall separate here," he said; "it would not be prudent for theApaches to go further: my father will continue his journey alone."

  "I?" the monk said, in surprise; "You are jesting, Chief--I preferremaining with you."

  "That cannot be," the Indian said, in a peremptory voice.

  "Where the deuce would you have me go at this hour, and in thisdarkness?"

  "My father will look," the Chief continued, stretching out his arm tothe south-west, "does he see that reddish light scarce rising above thehorizon?"

  Fray Antonio looked attentively in the direction indicated. "Yes," hesaid, presently, "I do see it."


  "Very good; that flame is produced by a campfire of the Palefaces."

  "Oh, oh! are you sure of that?"

  "Yes; but my father must listen; the Palefaces will receive my fatherkindly."

  "I understand; then I will tell Tranquil that his friend Blue-foxdesires to speak with him, point out where he is, and--"

  "The magpie is a chattering and brainless bird, which gabbles like anold squaw," the Chief roughly interrupted him; "my father will saynothing."

  "Oh!" the monk said, in confusion.

  "My father will be careful to do what I order him, if he does not wishhis scalp to dry on the lance of a Chief."

  Fray Antonio shuddered at this menace.

  "I swear it, Chief," he said.

  "A man does not swear," the Chief remarked, brutally; "he says yes orno. When my father reaches the camp of the Palefaces, he will not alludeto the Apaches; but when the Pale hunters are asleep, my father willleave the camp and come to warn Blue-fox."

  "But where shall I find you?" the monk asked, piteously, beginning toperceive that he was destined to act as the spy of the savages in one oftheir diabolical machinations.

  "My father need not trouble himself about that, for I shall manage tofind him."

  "Very good."

  "If my father is faithful, Blue-fox will give him a buffalo skin full ofgold dust; if not, he must not hope to escape the Chief; the Apaches arecrafty, the scalp of a Chief of prayer will adorn the lance of a Chief;I have spoken."

  "You have no further orders to give me?"

  "No."

  "Good-bye, then."

  "Till we meet again," the Apache said, with a grin.

  Fray Antonio made no reply, but uttered a deep sigh, and pushed on inthe direction of the camp. The nearer he drew to it, the more difficultdid it appear to him to accomplish the sinister mission with which theApache Chief had intrusted him; twice or thrice the idea of flightcrossed his mind, but whither could he go? And then it was probable thatthe Indians placed but slight confidence in him, and carefully watchedhim in the gloom.

  At length the camp appeared before the monk's startled eyes, as he couldnot draw back, for the hunters had doubtless perceived him already; hedecided on pushing forward, while desperately muttering--

  "The Lord have mercy upon me!"