The Indian Chief: The Story of a Revolution

"Oh!" the colonel exclaimed, "you distrust General Guerrero, sir, and put no faith in his honour as a caballero."

"Unfortunately, sir," the count replied dryly, "I have learned at my own expense what the value is of the honour of certain Mexicans. I will, therefore, enter into no discussion on that subject. Such are my conditions. The general is at liberty to accept or refuse them; but I pledge you my word of honour that I shall make no change."

"Very well, sir," the colonel answered, intimidated in spite of himself by the count's resolute accent, "I will have the honour of transmitting these harsh conditions to the general."

Don Louis bowed.

"I doubt whether he will accept them," the colonel continued.

"He can do as he pleases."

"But is there no other way of settling the difference?"

"I do not see any."

"Well, in the event of the general accepting, how shall I let you know it, so as to lose as little time as possible?"

"In a very simple mode, sir – by the arrival of Father Seraphin and the delivery of the hostages."

"And, in that case, when will the ceremony take place?"

"Two hours after the hostages have reached my camp."

"I will retire, sir, and submit your reply to my superior officer."

"Do so, sir."

The colonel retired, and the count, who fancied himself sure of the acceptance of his ultimatum, immediately gave the necessary orders for the construction of the cabin intended to serve as a chapel. After this he wrote a note, which was handed to Doña Angela through the medium of Don Cornelio. This note, which was very laconic, contained the following lines: —

"MADAM,

"I have received your father's answer: it is favourable. Tomorrow, in all probability, the ceremony of our marriage will take place. I watch over you and myself.

"The Count de PRÉBOIS CRANCÉ."

After sending off this note the count wrapped himself in a cloak, and went out to visit the posts, and assure himself that the sentries were keeping good guard. The night was bright and clear; the sky studded with an infinite number of brilliant stars; the atmosphere perfumed with a thousand sweet odours; at intervals the strains of the guitars, borne on the breeze, rose from the pueblo, and died out at the count's ear. The camp was silent and gloomy; the adventurers, who had retired under their leafy jacales, were enjoying that rest so necessary after a day's march; the horses, hobbled pell-mell with the mules, were devouring their alfalfa; the sentries, with shouldered muskets, were walking slowly around the intrenchments with their eyes fixed on the plain.

The count, after walking about for some time, and convincing himself that everything was in the most perfect order, was induced by the melancholy and mysterious softness of the night, to lean on the breastwork; and, with his eye fixed on vacancy, not looking at or probably seeing anything, he gradually gave way to his dreams, yielding unconsciously to the mysterious influence of the objects that surrounded him. From time to time, as the sentries called to each other, he mechanically raised his head; then he would yield again to the flood of thought that fell on him, and was so absorbed in himself that he seemed to be asleep; but it was not so.

For several hours he had been thus leaning over the breastwork, without a thought of retiring, when he suddenly felt a hand lightly laid on his shoulder. This touch, light as it was, sufficed to recall him from the ideal worlds in which his imagination was galloping, and to a consciousness of his present situation. The count stifled a cry of surprise and turned round. A man was holding on to the outside of the breastwork, his head scarce emerging over the top. It was Curumilla.

The chief had a finger laid on his lips, as if to recommend prudence to the count. The latter made a sign of pleasure on recognising the Indian, and quickly bent down to him.

"Well?" he said with his mouth to his ear.

"You will be attacked tomorrow."

"You are sure of it?"

The Indian smiled.

"Yes," he said.

"When?"

"At night."

"What hour?"

"An hour before moonrise."

"By whom?"

"Palefaces."

"Oh, oh!"

"Good-by."

"Are you off again?"

"Yes."

"Shall I see you again?"

"Perhaps."

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

"And Valentine?"

"He will come."

The Indian, doubtlessly fatigued with having talked so much, contrary to his habits, although the sentences he uttered were of no extraordinary length, slipped down the breastwork again, and said no more. Louis looked after him, and saw him crawl away on his knees, and disappear without producing the slightest sound. The scene had taken place so rapidly, the Indian's flight had been so silent, that the count was on the point of regarding it as an hallucination; but suddenly the hoot of the owl, twice repeated, rose in the air.

This signal had long been agreed on between Valentine and the count. He understood that Curumilla, while warning him that he was safe, sent him from a distance a last recommendation to silence. He tossed his head sadly, and returned to his tent pensively, muttering in a low voice, —

"Another piece of treachery!"

CHAPTER XIV

THE COCK-FIGHT

In marching on La Magdalena the count had a double object: in the first place, that of meeting the rich hacenderos and alcaldes of the pueblos dissatisfied with the Mexican Government, and try to draw them over to his side by the brilliant prospects of independence he offered them; secondly, by his strategic position at the village, to alarm General Guerrero, and keep him constantly on the alert by a simultaneous feint of aggressive movements on each of the three Sonorian capitals.

The general, so soon as war was declared, had appealed to the population with that pompous and verbose Mexican eloquence which only deceives the foolish. The inhabitants, who were perfectly indifferent about the Government, and cared but little to interfere in the general's private quarrels, which he tried in vain to metamorphose into a national question, had remained quietly at home, and had in no way responded to their chiefs so-called patriotic appeal, the more so because, during the four months since the French landed in Sonora, and had been traversing the country, their conduct toward the population had been ever exemplary, and not the smallest complaint had been made against them.

The general, disappointed at the ill success of his machinations, then changed his batteries. He proceeded to forced enlistments: next, not satisfied with that, he treated with the Hiaquis and Opatas Indians, in order to increase his army. He also wished, at the outset, to enrol the Apaches; but the rude lesson the French had read the latter had disgusted them with war, and they retired to their deserts without listening to any new proposition.

Still General Guerrero had succeeded in collecting an imposing force. His army amounted to nearly 12,000 men – an enormous number, if we think of the few combatants his enemy could draw up in time. The general, we must do him the justice to say, in spite of his incessant braggadocio, and the continual marches and countermarches he performed, had an instinctive respect for his enemy, or, if you like it better, a perfectly reasonable fear, which incited him to prudence, and prevented him ever coming too close to the French outposts. He contented himself with actively watching the count's movements, and holding the three roads in such a way as to be able easily to concentrate his troops on the point menaced by the adventurers.

It is a singular fact that the Americans of the South have never been able, after so many centuries, and though they are nearly descended from the Spaniards, to dispel that superstitious terror with which the European conquerors inspired them on their landing. The deeds of those heroic adventurers are still in every mouth, and during the war of independence it frequently happened that a handful of Spaniards put to flight, merely by showing themselves, masses of Mexican insurgents. The most convincing proof of our assertion we can produce is that, at this very moment, three hundred French adventurers, isolated in the centre of a country they did not know, and the majority of whom did not even speak the language, held in check an army of 12,000 men, commanded by chiefs who were esteemed good soldiers, and not only made Sonora tremble, but even the Federal Government in Mexico itself.

The boldness and temerity of the enterprise attempted by the count increased, were that possible, the terror he inspired. This expedition was so mad, that sensible men could not imagine that the count was not backed up by secret, though powerful allies, who only awaited an opportunity to declare themselves. This terror was carefully kept up by the count's spies and scouts. The boldness of his movements, the decision with which he acted, and finally, the occupation of La Magdalena without a blow being struck, heightened the apprehensions of the Government, and increased its indecision as to the intentions of the chief, or, as they called him, the Cabecilla.

It was about five in the morning when the curtain that closed the count's tent was raised from the outside, and a man entered. Don Louis, startled by this sudden apparition, rubbed his eyes and seized his pistols, saying in a firm voice, —

"Who is there?"

"I, of course," the new arriver said. "Who would dare enter in this way except me?"

"Valentine!" the count exclaimed with a shout of joy, and throwing down his pistols. "You are welcome, brother: I have been expecting you impatiently."

"Thank you," the hunter said. "Did not Curumilla announce my return this very night?"

"Yes," the count said with a laugh; "but you know how easy it is to talk with the chief."

"That is true. Well, I have brought you the information he omitted to give you, and perhaps it is all for the best."

The count had dressed himself; that is to say, he put on his coat and zarapé, for he had thrown himself on his bed in his clothes.

"Take a stool," he said, "and let us talk."

"I prefer going out."

"As you please," Don Louis answered, suspecting that his friend had peculiar reasons for acting thus. They left the tent together.

"Captain de Laville," the hunter said, addressing the young man, who was walking up and down before the tent, "an escort of ten horsemen, a horse for myself, and another for the chief, if you please."

"At once?"

"Yes, if it be possible."

"Of course it is."

"We are going to leave the camp, then?" Louis said when they were alone.

"We are going to La Magdalena," the hunter made answer.

"The moment is a most unfortunate one."

"Why so?"

"Because I am expecting the general's answer."

"In that case you can come," the hunter said with a malicious smile, "for you will not receive that reply. The colonel's mission was only a bait to lull your vigilance to sleep."

"Oh, oh! are you certain of what you assert?"

"By Jove!"

At this moment the escort appeared. Louis and Valentine mounted. It was hardly six in the morning; the country was deserted; at each puff of wind the trees shook their branches, which were damp with the abundant bright dew, and caused a gentle shower which rustled on the bushes; the sun sucked up the dense vapour that rose from the ground; and the birds, hidden in the foliage, woke up singing. The two friends, slightly in advance of their escort, rode pensively side by side, with the bridle on their horses' necks, and gazing vacantly at the magnificent landscape which lay expanded before them. The first houses of the pueblo, gaily enframed in clumps of floripondios and vines, were visible from a turning in the road. Don Louis raised his head.

"Well," he said, as if answering his own thoughts, "I swear this shall be the last time that General Guerrero mocks me thus. It is plain that Colonel Suarez only came to my camp to see for himself in what condition we were."

"For nothing else."

"Where are we going now?"

"To a cockfight."

"A cockfight!" the count said in surprise.

The hunter looked at him significantly.

"Yes," he said to him, "you know, perhaps – or, if you do not, I will tell you – that the finest cockfights take place annually at La Magdalena at the period of the festival."

"Ah!" Louis said indifferently.

"I am certain that it will interest you," Valentine continued with a cunning air.

The count perfectly well understood that his friend only spoke to him in this way in order to foil any eavesdroppers who might be about, and was silent, for he felt certain that all would be cleared up ere long. Besides, the little party were at this moment entering the pueblo, the houses of which were beginning to open, in which the dwellers, hardly awake, saluted them as they passed with joyous and friendly smiles. After passing slowly through two or three streets, at a sign from Valentine the detachment stopped before a house of rather mean appearance, and which had nothing about it to recommend it to the attention of strangers.

"It is here," the hunter said.

They stopped and dismounted. Valentine then gave the leader of the escort strict orders to remain mounted with his men, and not stir till the count's return; then he tapped discreetly at the door, which was immediately opened. They entered, and the door was closed without their seeing anybody. They were scarcely in the house ere the hunter led his companion into a cuarto, the door of which he opened with a key he drew from his pocket.

"Follow my example," he said as he took off his vicuna hat and zarapé, which he exchanged for a cloak and a broad-brimmed straw hat. The count imitated him.

"Now come."

They wrapped themselves carefully in their cloaks, pulled their hats over their eyes, and left the house by a door cleverly hidden in the wall, which communicated with the adjoining house, through which they passed without meeting anybody, and found themselves once more in the street. But during the few minutes they remained in the house the appearance of the pueblo had completely changed. The streets were now thronged with people coming and going: at each step children and leperos were letting off fireworks with shouts of delight and bursts of laughter. Through the whole of Spanish America, and especially in Mexico, no at all respectable festival goes off without crackers and fireworks: letting off squibs is the acme of joy. We will repeat on this head a rather characteristic anecdote.

Some time after the Spaniards had been definitively expelled from Mexico, King Ferdinand one morning asked a rich Mexican who had sought refuge at the court of Spain, —

"What do you imagine your countrymen are doing at this moment, Don Luis de Cerda?"

"Sire," the Mexican replied gravely, as he bowed to the king, "they are letting off squibs."

"Ah!" the king said, and passed on.

A few hours later the king accosted the gentleman again: it was two in the afternoon.

"And now," he asked him gaily, "what are they engaged in?"

"Sire," the Mexican said with no less gravity than on the first occasion, "they continue to let off squibs."

The king smiled, but made no reply. At nightfall, however, he again addressed the same question to the gentleman, who answered with his imperturbable coolness, —

"May it please your Majesty, they are letting off more squibs than ever."

This time the king could not contain himself, but burst into a fit of laughter – a very remarkable circumstance, for this prince was never renowned for the jollity of his character.

The Mexicans have three passions; – playing at monte, witnessing cockfights, and letting off squibs. We believe that the third is the most deeply rooted in them; and the quantity of powder consumed in Mexico in the shape of squibs is incalculable. Hence squibs were being let off in all the streets and on all the squares of La Magdalena. At each step crackers exploded beneath the feet of our two friends, who, however, long accustomed to Mexican habits, did not attach the slightest importance to the fireworks, but continued their progress in perfect coolness, clearing a way as well as they could through the dense crowd of Indians, half-breeds, Negroes, Zambos, Spaniards, Mexicans, and North Americans. At length they turned into a lane about half way down the Calle San Pedro.

"Halloh!" Louis said, "are we really going to see a cockfight?"

"Of course," Valentine said with a smile. "Let me alone. I told you it would interest you."

"Go on, then," the count said with a careless shrug of his shoulders. "Deuce take you and your absurd ideas!"

"Good, good!" Valentine replied with a laugh. "We shall see; but we have arrived."

And without any more words they entered the house.

There is no amusement in Mexico, save perhaps monte or fireworks, which excites interest to such a degree as a cockfight; and this interest is not confined merely to a certain class of society. In this respect there is no difference between the President of the Republic and the most humble citizen, between the generalissimo and the lowest leper, between the highest dignitary of the Church and the most obscure sacristan: whites, blacks, half-castes, and Indians the whole population rushes with unequalled frenzy to this bloody spectacle which is so full of interest to them.

The pit is arranged in the following way: – Behind a house a large yard is selected, in the centre of which rises a circular amphitheatre, from fifty to sixty feet in diameter. The wall of this amphitheatre is never less than twenty feet high: it is built with brick, and carefully covered with hard stucco inside and out. Five rows of seats rising above each other complete the interior of the building. Until the opening of the doors no one knows what birds are entered; but, so soon as the public are admitted, the cocks are brought in. The bettors bring one each, which are then intrusted to the care of the trainer who makes the preliminary arrangements. These, however, are very simple. The cocks are armed with artificial spurs made of polished steel, about four inches in length, by half an inch wide at the base, slightly curved at the end, and terminating in a sharp point, while the upper side of the spur is sharpened. These spurs are firmly attached to the legs of the cocks by straps. When thus prepared for the contest, the cocks are taken into the pit by the trainers, who hold them up in the air, and submit them to the inspection of the spectators, who then make their bets. The money thus risked on the life of a bird is incredible, and men often ruin themselves by betting.

At the moment when the Frenchmen entered, the amusement had long before begun, so that all the best places were taken, and the pit filled with spectators pressing against each other. As, however, our friends had by no means come to take an active part in the amusement, they modestly seated themselves on the wall of the arena, where a band of ragged leperos had taken refuge, too poor to bet, but who regarded with envious eye and scarce-suppressed passion the happy favourites of fortune who were moving about beneath them with shouts and exclamations. The tumult was at its height, and all eyes were fixed on the pit, where – an extraordinary circumstance – one cock had defeated nine others in succession.

The Frenchmen cleverly profited by the effervescence of the spectators to pass on unnoticed, and reach the places they had selected. After a minute Valentine lit a maize pajilla, and bent over to his foster brother's ear.

"Wait for me here," he said; "I shall return in a moment."

Louis bowed in assent. Valentine rose with a nonchalant air, leaped carelessly over the benches, and, with cigar in mouth, mingled among the spectators who crowded the approaches to the pit. The count looked after him for a few moments, but then lost him in the crowd. His eyes then turned to the pit; and so great is the attraction offered by this singular and cruel spectacle, that the count involuntarily grew interested in what was going on before him, and even took a certain pleasure in it.

The combats followed in rapid succession, each offering different but exciting incidents. The count began to find his foster brother's absence protracted, for he had left him for nearly an hour, when all at once he saw himself standing before him.

"Well?" he asked him.

"Well," Valentine answered in Castilian, "it appears that I was right, and that Señor Rodrigo's cocks are achieving marvels. Come and see it more closely. I assure you that it is curious."

The count rose without replying, and followed him.

CHAPTER XV

THE INTERVIEW

Owing to their disguise, but, above all, the interest everybody took in the cockfight, the Frenchmen succeeded in leaving the amphitheatre as they had entered it; that is to say, without attracting any attention. When they reached a sort of dark passage leading to the interior of the house, Valentine stopped.

"Listen, to me, Louis," he said, gluing his mouth, as it were, to his friend's ear. "The moment has arrived for you to learn why I brought you hither."

"I am listening."

"Since I left you at the mission, as you may suppose, I have not been inactive. I have gone about the country, have entered into relations with all the richest and most respected inhabitants, and have succeeded in making them comprehend how important it was for them to join and support you. The festival of La Magdalena offered us a favourable opportunity for meeting without attracting the attention of the Mexican Government, and arousing its apprehension. The only house in which a large body of persons can meet without exciting notice is indubitably that in which there is a cockpit. I therefore made an appointment here for this moment with the malcontents, who are numerous. They are all men who, by their fortunes or position, enjoy a high degree of consideration in the State which we wish to revolutionise, and possess great influence. I will introduce you to them: they are awaiting your arrival. You will explain to them your intentions, and they will tell you on what conditions they will consent to join you. Remember, however, brother, that you are dealing with Mexicans. Set no more confidence in their words or promises than they deserve. Be sure that success alone will gain them; that if you fail they will abandon you remorselessly, and be ready to deliver you up if they fancy they can derive any advantage from such an act of infamy. Now, if what I tell you does not suit you, you can retire, and I will undertake to dismiss them without compromising you in any way."

"No!" the count answered resolutely, "it is too late now: to hesitate or recoil would be cowardly. I must go on at all risks. Announce me to our new friends."

"Come on, then."

They walked to the end of the passage, where a closed door checked their progress. Valentine tapped thrice at equal intervals with the hilt of his machete.

"Who is there?" a voice asked from inside.

"The man expected a long time, though you did not dare hope that he would come," Valentine answered.

"He is welcome," the voice added.

At this moment the door opened, the two men entered, and it closed again on them immediately. They then found themselves in a large room with whitewashed walls, and the floor of beaten earth. The furniture consisted of benches, on which were seated some fifty men, some of whom wore an ecclesiastical garb. Curtains of red serge placed before the windows took off the glare, while at the same time preventing anyone outside seeing what was going on. On the entrance of the count and Valentine, all rose and uncovered themselves respectfully.

"Caballeros," Valentine said, "according to my promise, I have the honour to present to you the Count de Prébois Crancé, who has consented to accompany me in order to hear the propositions you have to make to him."

All bowed ceremoniously to the count, and he returned their bows with that grace and amenity peculiar to him. A man of a certain age, with an elegant and intelligent face, and dressed in the magnificent costume of the rich hacenderos, advanced and addressed the hunter.

"Pardon me, sir," he said with a slightly ironical accent, "I believe you have made a small mistake."

"Be good enough to explain, Señor Don Anastasio," the hunter replied. "I do not understand the words you have done me the honour to address to me."