The Pirates of the Prairies: Adventures in the American Desert Page 3

  CHAPTER III.

  AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE OF THE READER.

  On this unforeseen attack the Apaches uttered a yell of terror; but,before they could pull up their horses, a second discharge made fourfresh victims in their ranks. A mad terror then seized on the Indians,and they turned and fled in every direction; ten minutes later they haddisappeared. The hunters did not dream for a moment of pursuing them;but Curumilla had dismounted, and crawling out to the scene of action,conscientiously finished and scalped the Apaches who had fallen underhis comrades' bullets. At the same time he lassoed a riderless horsewhich passed a few paces from him, and then rejoined his friends.

  "To what tribe do those dogs belong?" Valentine asked him.

  "The Buffalo," Curumilla made answer.

  "Oh, oh," the hunter went on; "we were in luck's way then. Stanapat, Ibelieve, is the chief of the Buffalo tribe."

  Curumilla nodded an assent; and after hobbling the horse he had lassoedby the side of the others, quietly seated himself on the river bank.

  The stranger had been quite as much surprised as the Apaches by theunforeseen help that had so providentially arrived at the moment when hebelieved himself hopelessly lost. At the sound of the firing he checkedhis horse, and, after a moment's hesitation, slowly turned back.

  Valentine watched all his movements. The stranger, on reaching thethicket, dismounted, pulled back with a firm hand the brambles thatbarred his way, and boldly proceeded to the clearing where the hunterswere ambushed. This man, whom the reader already knows, was no otherthan the person Red Cedar called Don Melchior, and of whom he seemed soterribly afraid.

  When he found himself in the presence of the Mexicans, Don Melchior tookoff his hat and bowed courteously; the others politely returned hissalute.

  "_Viva Dios!_" he exclaimed. "I do not know who you are, caballeros; butI thank you sincerely for your interference just now. I owe my life toyou."

  "In the Far West," Valentine answered nobly, "an invisible bond connectsall the individuals of one colour, who only form a single family."

  "Yes," the stranger said, with a thoughtful accent, "it should be so;but unfortunately," he added, shaking his head in denial, "the worthyprinciples you enunciate, caballero, are but very slightly put inpractice: but I ought not at this moment to complain of them beingneglected, as it is to your generous intervention that I owe my beingamong the living."

  The listeners bowed, and the stranger went on:

  "Be kind enough to tell me who you are, gentlemen, that I may retain inmy heart names which will ever be dear to me."

  Valentine fixed on the man who thus spoke a piercing glance, that seemedto be trying to read his most secret thoughts. The stranger smiled sadly.

  "Pardon," he then said, "any apparent bitterness in my words: I havesuffered much, and, in spite of myself, gloomy thoughts often rise frommy heart to my lips."

  "Man is sent on the earth to suffer," Valentine gravely replied. "Eachof us has his cross to bear here: Don Miguel de Zarate, his son andGeneral Ibanez are a proof of my assertion."

  At the name of Don Miguel, a vivid blush purpled the stranger's cheeks,and his eye flashed, despite all his efforts to remain unmoved.

  "I have often heard of Don Miguel de Zarate," he said, with a bow. "Ihave been informed of the dangers he has incurred--dangers from which heonly escaped by the aid of a man--an honest hunter."

  "That hunter is before you," Don Miguel said. "Alas! We have other andgreater dangers still to incur."

  The stranger looked at him attentively for an instant--then steppedforward, and crossed his arms on his chest.

  "Listen!" he said, in a deep voice. "It was truly Heaven that inspiredyou to come to my help--for from this moment I devote myself, body andsoul, to your service; and I belong to you as the haft does to theblade. I know the reason that compelled you to break up all old habitsto visit the frightful solitudes of the Far West."

  "You know it?" the hunter exclaimed, in surprise.

  "Everything," the stranger firmly answered. "I know the treachery whichcast you into the power of your enemies. I know, too, that your daughterhas been carried off by Red Cedar."

  "Who are you, then, to be so well informed?" Valentine asked.

  A sad smile played for a second round the stranger's lips.

  "Who am I?" he said in a melancholy voice. "What matters, since I wishto serve you?"

  "Still, as we answered your questions, we have a right to expect thesame from you."

  "That is just," the stranger said, "and you shall be satisfied. I am theman with the hundred names: in Mexico I am called Don Luis Arroyal,partner in the firm of Simpson, Carvalho, and Company--in the northernprovinces of Mexico, where I have long rendered myself popular byfoolish squandering, El Gambusino--on the coasts of the United States,and in the Gulf of Mexico, where I sometimes command a cutter, and chasethe slavers, I am called the Unknown--among the North Americans, the Sonof Blood--but my real name, and the one men give me who know the littleabout me I think proper to tell them--it is la Venganza (Vengeance). Areyou satisfied now, gentlemen?"

  No one replied. The hunters had all heard of this extraordinary man,about whom the strangest rumours were rife in Mexico, the United States,and even on the prairie. By the side of heroic deeds, and acts ofkindness deserving all praise, he was branded with crimes of unheard-ofcruelty and unexampled ferocity. He inspired a mysterious terror in thewhites and redskins, who equally feared to come in contact with him,though no proof had ever yet been brought forward of the contradictorystories told about him.

  Valentine and his comrades had frequently heard talk of Bloodson; butthis was the first time they had found themselves face to face with him;and, in spite of themselves, they were surprised to see so noble andhandsome a man. Valentine was the first to regain his coolness.

  "For a long time," he said, "your name has been familiar to me. I wasanxious to know you. The opportunity offers, and I am pleased with it,as I shall be at length able to judge you, which was hithertoimpossible, through the exaggerated stories told about you. You say thatyou can be useful to us in the enterprise we are meditating, and weaccept your offer as frankly as you make it. On an expedition like this,the help of a brave man must not be despised--the more so, as the man wewish to force in his lair is dangerous."

  "More than you imagine," the stranger interrupted him in a gloomy voice."I have been struggling with Red Cedar for twenty years, and have notyet managed to crush him. Ah! He is a rough adversary! I know it, for Iam his most implacable enemy, and have in vain tried all the means at mycommand to take an exemplary vengeance on him."

  While uttering these words, the stranger's face had assumed a lividtint; his features were contracted, and he seemed to be suffering froman extraordinary emotion. Valentine looked at him for an instant with amingled feeling of pity and sympathy. The hunter, who had suffered somuch, knew, like all wounded souls, how to feel for the grief of menwho, like himself, bore their adversity worthily.

  "We will help you," he said, as he cordially offered him his hand,"Instead of five, we shall be six, to fight him."

  The stranger's eye flashed forth a strange gleam. He squeezed theoffered hand, and answered in a dull voice, but with an expressionimpossible to render:

  "We shall be fifty; for I have comrades in the desert."

  Valentine bent a joyous glance on his companions at this news, whichannounced to him a valuable support, that he was far from anticipating.

  "But fifty men are not sufficient to contend against this demon, who isassociated with the Pirates of the Prairies, and allied with the mostdangerous Indians."

  "Do not trouble yourself about that," Valentine observed. "We will alsoally ourselves with Indian tribes. But I swear to you that I shall notquit the prairie till I have seen the last drop of that villain's bloodrun out."

  "May heaven hear you!" the stranger muttered. "If my horse were not sotired, I would ask you to follow me; for we have not a moment to lose ifwe wish to force the wild beas
t. Unfortunately, we are compelled to waitsome hours."

  Curumilla stepped forward. "Here is a horse for my pale brother," hesaid, as he pointed to the animal he had lassoed a few minutespreviously.

  The stranger uttered a cry of joy.

  "To horse!" he loudly exclaimed, "To horse!"

  "Where are you taking us?" Valentine asked.

  "To join my comrades in the hiding place I have selected for them. Thenwe will arrange the means we must employ to destroy our common enemy."

  "Good," Valentine remarked, "that is excellent reasoning. Are we farfrom the place?"

  "No, twenty to twenty-five miles at the most; we shall be there bysunset."

  "We will start then," Valentine added.

  The gentlemen leaped into their saddles, and started at a gallop in thedirection of the mountains. A few minutes later, the spot had returnedto its usual calmness and silence. Nothing was left to prove that manhad passed that way, save a few mutilated corpses over which thevultures were already beginning to circle with hoarse croaking beforethey settled upon them.