The Trappers of Arkansas: or, The Loyal Heart

"No," the guide replied; "scarcely an hour's ride."

"Let us mend our speed, then; I should not like to be surprised by the night in this woody country."

The troop fell into a quick trot, which, in less than half an hour, brought them to the first barricades of the camp.

Captain Aguilar and the doctor came to receive the travellers on their arrival.

The evening repast was prepared, and had been waiting some time.

They seated themselves at table.

But the sadness which for some time past seemed to have taken possession of the general and his niece increased instead of diminishing. It had its effect upon the repast; all swallowed their food hastily, without exchanging a word. As soon as they had finished, under pretext of the fatigues of the journey, they separated, ostensibly to seek repose, but, in reality, for the sake of being alone, and reflecting upon the events of the day.

On his part, the guide was not more at his ease; a bad conscience, a sage has said, is the most annoying night companion a man can have; the Babbler possessed the worst of all bad consciences, therefore he had no inclination to sleep. He walked about the camp, seeking in vain in his mind, harassed by anxiety and perhaps remorse, for some means of getting out of the scrape in which he found himself. But it was in vain for him to put his imagination to the rack, nothing suggested itself to calm his apprehensions.

In the meantime, night was advancing, the moon had disappeared, and a thick darkness hovered over the silent camp.

Everyone was asleep, or appearing to sleep; the guide alone, who had taken upon himself the first watch, was seated on a bale; with his arms crossed upon his breast, and his eyes fixed upon vacancy, he became more and more absorbed in gloomy reveries.

All at once a hand was placed upon his shoulder, and a voice murmured in his ear the single word,

"Kennedy!"

The guide, with that presence of mind, and that imperturbable phlegm which never abandons the Indian or the half-breed, cast a suspicious glance around him, to assure himself that he was really alone; then he seized the hand which had remained resting upon his shoulder, and dragged the individual who had spoken to him, and who followed him without resistance, to a retired spot, where he thought he was certain of being overheard by nobody.

At the moment when the two men passed by the tent, the curtains opened softly, and a shadow glided silently after them.

When they were concealed amidst the packages, and standing near enough to each other to speak in a voice as low as a breath, the guide muttered:

"God be praised! I have been expecting your visit with impatience, Kennedy."

"Did you know that I was about to come?" the latter remarked suspiciously.

"No, but I hoped you would!"

"Is there anything fresh?"

"Yes, and much!"

"Speak, and make haste!"

"That is what I am going to do. All is lost!"

"Hem! what do you mean by that?"

"What do I mean is, that today the general, guided by me, went – "

"Ah! yes, I know all that. I saw you."

"Maldición! why did you not attack us, then?"

"There were but two of us."

"I should have made the third, the party would then have been equal; the general had but two lanceros."

"That's true; but I did not think of it."

"You were wrong. All would now be ended, instead of which all is now probably lost."

"How so?"

"Eh! caray! It is clear enough. The general and his niece held long conversations with that sneaking hound, Black Elk, and you know he has been acquainted with me a long while. There is no doubt he has made them suspicious of me."

"Why did you lead them to the beaver pond, then?"

"How could I tell I should meet that cursed trapper there?"

"In our trade we must be awake to everything."

"You are right. I have committed an error. At present I believe the evil to be without remedy, for I have a presentiment that Black Elk has completely edified the general with respect to me."

"Hum! that is more than probable. What is to be done, then?"

"Act as soon as possible, without giving them time to put themselves on their guard."

"For my part, I ask no better than that, you know."

"Yes, but where is the captain? Has he returned?"

"He arrived this evening. All our men are concealed in the grotto; there are forty of us.

"Bravo! Why did you not come all together, instead of you by yourself? Only see, what a fine opportunity you have lost? They are all sleeping like dormice. We could have seized them all in less than ten minutes."

"You are right; but one cannot foresee everything; besides, the affair was not so agreed upon with the captain."

"That is true. Why did you come then?"

"To warn you that we are ready, and only await your signal to act."

"Let us consider, then, what is best to be done? Advise me."

"How the devil can you expect me to advise you? Can I tell what is going on here so as to tell you what you must do?"

The guide reflected for a minute, then he raised his head, and surveyed the heavens attentively.

"Listen," he replied, "it is but two o'clock in the morning."

"About that."

"You are going back to the grotto?"

"Immediately!"

"Yes."

"Very well. What next?"

"You will tell the captain that, if he wishes it, I will deliver the girl up to him this night."

"Hum! that appears to me rather difficult."

"You are stupid."

"Very possibly, but I don't see how."

"Attend then. The guarding of the camp is thus distributed: – In the daytime the soldiers guard the intrenchments; but as they are not accustomed to the life of the prairies, and as in the night their assistance would do more harm than good, the other guides and I are charged with the guard whilst the soldiers repose."

"That's cleverly managed," Kennedy said, laughing.

"Is it not?" the Babbler said. "You get on horseback then? when you arrive at the bottom of the hill, six of the bravest of you must come and join me with their aid I undertake to bind, while they sleep, all the soldiers and the general himself."

"There is something in that; that's a good idea."

"Don't you think so?"

"By my faith do I."

"Very well. When once our folks are safely bound, I will whistle, and the captain will come up with the rest of the troop. Then he may arrange his matters with the girl as well as he is able; that is his concern; my task will be accomplished. Now, what do you think of all that?"

"Capital!"

"In this fashion we shall avoid bloodshed and blows, for which I have no great fancy, when I can do without them."

"We know your prudence in that respect."

"Zounds! my dear fellow, when we have affairs like this on hand, which, when they succeed, present great advantages, we should always endeavour so to arrange matters as to have all the chances in our favour.

"Perfectly well reasoned; besides which, your idea pleases me much, and, without delay, I will put it into execution; but, in the first place, let us make things clear, to avoid misunderstandings, which are always disagreeable."

"Very well."

"If, as I believe he will, the captain finds your plan good, and very likely to succeed, as soon as we are at the foot of the hill, I will come up with six resolute fellows, whom I will pick out myself. On which side must we introduce ourselves into the camp?"

"The devil! why on the side you have already entered: you ought to know it."

"And you, where will you be?"

"At the spot where you enter, ready to assist you."

"That's well. Now all is agreed and understood. You have nothing more to say to me?"

"Nothing."

"I am off, then."

"The sooner the better."

"You are always right. Guide me to the place I am to go out at; it is so cursedly dark, that I may lose my way, and tumble over some sleeping soldier, and that would not help our business at all."

"Give me your hand."

"Here it is."

The two men rose, and prepared to proceed to the place where the captain's emissary was to leave the camp; but, at the same moment, a shadow interposed itself between them, and a firm voice said; —

"You are traitors, and shall die!"

In spite of their self-possession, the two men remained for an instant stupefied. Without giving them time to recover their presence of mind, the person who had spoken discharged two pistols, point blank at them.

The miserable wretches uttered a loud cry. One fell, but the other, bounding like a tiger-cat, scrambled over the intrenchments and disappeared before a second shot could be fired at him.

At the double report and the cry uttered by the bandits, the whole camp was roused, and all rushed to the barricades.

The general and Captain Aguilar were the first to arrive at the spot where the scene we have described had taken place.

They found Doña Luz, with two smoking pistols in her hands, whilst, at her feet, a man was writhing in the agonies of death.

"What does all this mean, niece? What has happened, in the name of Heaven! Are you wounded?" the terrified general asked.

"Be at ease, dear uncle, on my account, I am not wounded," the young lady replied. "I have only punished a traitor. Two wretches were plotting in the dark against our common safety; one of them has escaped, but I believe the other is at least seriously wounded."

The general eagerly examined the dying man. By the light of the torch he held in his hand he at once recognized Kennedy, the guide whom the Babbler pretended had been burnt alive in the conflagration of the prairie.

"Oh, oh!" he said, "what does all this mean?"

"It means, uncle," the girl replied, "that if God had not come to my aid, we should have been, this very night, surprised by a troop of bandits, lying in ambush close to us."

"Let us lose no time, then!"

And the general, assisted by Captain Aguilar, hastened to prepare everything for a vigorous resistance, in case an attack should be attempted.

The Babbler had fled, but a large track of blood proved that he was seriously wounded. If it had been light enough, they would have attempted to pursue him, and, perhaps, might have taken him; but, in the midst of darkness, and suspecting that their enemies were in ambush in the neighbourhood, the general was not willing to risk his soldiers out of the camp. He preferred leaving the villain that chance of saving himself.

As to Kennedy, he was dead.

The first moment of excitement past, Doña Luz, no longer sustained by the danger of her situation, began to be sensible she was a woman. Her energy disappeared, her eyes closed, a convulsive trembling shook her whole frame; she fainted, and would have fallen, if the doctor, who was watching her, had not caught her in his arms.

He carried her in that state into the tent, and lavished upon her all the remedies usual in such cases.

The young lady gradually recovered: her spirits were calmed, and order was re-established in her ideas.

The advice given her that very day by Black Elk then naturally recurred to her mind; she deemed the moment was coming for claiming the execution of his promise, and she made a sign to the doctor to approach her.

"My dear doctor," she said, in a sweet but weak voice, "are you willing to render me a great service?"

"Dispose of me as you please, señorita."

"Do you know a trapper named Black Elk?"

"Yes; he has a hut not a great way from us, near a beaver pond."

"That is the person, my good doctor. Well, as soon as it is light, you must go to him from me."

"For what purpose, señorita?"

"Because I ask you," she said, in a calm tone.

"Oh! then you may be at ease; I will go," he replied.

"Thank you, doctor."

"What shall I say to him?"

"You will give him an account of what has taken place here tonight."

"The deuce!"

"And then you will add – retain my exact words, you must repeat them to him to the very letter."

"I listen with all my ears, and will engrave them on my memory."

"Black Elk, the hour is come! You understand that, do you not?"

"Perfectly, señorita."

"You swear to do what I ask of you?"

"I swear it," he said, in a solemn voice. "At sunrise, I will go to the trapper; I will give him an account of the events of the night, and will add – Black Elk, the hour is come. Is that all you desire of me?"

"Yes, all, my kind doctor."

"Well, then, now endeavour to get a little sleep, señorita; I swear to you by my honour, that what you wish shall be done."

"Again, thank you!" the young girl murmured, with a sweet smile, and pressing his hand.

Then, quite broken down by the terrible emotions of the night, she sank back upon her bed, where she soon fell into a calm, refreshing sleep.

At daybreak, in spite of the observations of the general, who in vain endeavoured to prevent his leaving the camp, by presenting to him all the dangers he was needlessly going to expose himself to, the worthy doctor who had shaken his head at all that his friend said to him, persisted, without giving any reason, in his project of going out, and set off down the hill at a sharp trot.

When once in the forest, he put spurs to his horse, and galloped at best speed towards the hut of Black Elk.

CHAPTER XVII.

EAGLE HEAD

Eagle Head was a chief as prudent as he was determined; he knew he had everything to fear from the Americans, if he did not succeed in completely concealing his trail.

Hence, after the surprise he had effected against the new establishment of the whites, upon the banks of the great Canadian river, he neglected nothing to secure his troop from the terrible reprisals which threatened them.

It is scarcely possible to form an idea of the talent displayed by the Indians when the object is to conceal their trail.

Twenty times do they repass the same place, entangling, as it were, the traces of their passage in each other, in such a manner that they end by becoming inextricable; neglecting no accident of the ground, marching in each other's footsteps to conceal their number, following for whole days the course of rivulets, frequently with the water up to their waist, carrying their precautions and patience so far as ever to efface with their hands, and, so to speak, step by step the vestiges which might denounce them to the keen, interested eyes of their enemies.

The tribe of the Serpent, to which the warriors commanded by Eagle Head belonged, had entered the prairies nearly five hundred warriors strong, in order to hunt the buffalo, and give battle to the Pawnees and Sioux, with whom they were continually at war.

It was Eagle Head's object, as soon as his campaign should be over, to join his brothers immediately, in order to place in safety the booty gained by the capture of the village, and to take part in a grand expedition which his tribe was preparing against the white trappers and half-breeds spread over the prairies, whom the Indians, with reason, considered as implacable enemies.

Notwithstanding the extreme precaution displayed by the chief, the detachment had marched rapidly.

On the evening of the sixth day that had passed away since the destruction of the fort, the Comanches halted on the banks of a little river without a name, as is the case sometimes in these wilds, and prepared to encamp for the night.

Nothing is more simple than the encamping of Indians upon the warpath.

The horses are hobbled, that they may not stray away; if the savages do not fear a surprise, they kindle a fire; if the contrary, everyone manages to get a little food and rest as well as he can.

Since their departure from the fort, no indication had given the Comanches reason to think they were pursued or watched, and their scouts had discovered no suspicious track. They were at but a short distance from the camp of their tribe, – their security was complete.

Eagle Head ordered a fire to be lit, and himself posted sentinels to watch over the safety of all.

When he had taken these prudent measures, the chief placed his back against an ebony tree, took his calumet, and ordered the old man and the Spanish woman to be brought before him.

When they appeared, Eagle Head saluted the old man cordially, and offered him his calumet, a mark of kindness which the old man accepted, carefully preparing himself for the questions which the Indian was, doubtless, about to put to him.

As he expected, after a silence of a few moments, the latter spoke.

"Does my brother find himself comfortable with the redskins?" asked he.

"I should be wrong to complain, chief," the Spaniard replied; "since I have been with you I have been treated very kindly."

"My brother is a friend," the Comanche said, emphatically.

The old man bowed.

"We are at length in our own hunting grounds," the chief continued; "my brother, the White Head, is fatigued with a long life; he is better at the counsel fire than on horseback, hunting the elk or the buffalo – what does my brother wish?"

"Chief," the Spaniard replied, "your words are true; there was a time when, like every other child of the prairies, I passed whole days in hunting upon a fiery unbroken mustang; my strength has disappeared, my members have lost their elasticity, and my eye its infallibility; I am worth nothing now in an expedition, however short it may be."

"Good!" the Indian replied, imperturbably, blowing clouds of smoke from his mouth and nostrils; "let my brother tell his friend what he wishes, and it shall be done."

"I thank you, chief, and I will profit by your kindness; I should be happy if you would consent to furnish me with means of gaining, without being disturbed, some establishment of men of my own colour, where I might pass in peace the few days I have yet to live."

"Eh! why should I not do it? Nothing is more easy; as soon as we have rejoined the tribe, since my brother is not willing to dwell with us, his desires shall be satisfied."

There was a moment of silence. The old man, believing the conversation terminated, prepared to retire; with a gesture, the chief ordered him to remain.

After a few instants, the Indian shook the ashes out of his pipe, passed the shank of it through his belt, and fixing upon the Spaniard a glance marked by a strange expression, he said, in a sad voice, —

"My brother is happy, although he has seen many winters, he does not walk alone in the path of life."

"What does the chief mean?" the old man asked; "I do not understand."

"My brother has a family," the Comanche replied.

"Alas! my brother is deceived; I am alone in this world."

"What does my brother say? Has he not his mate?" A sad smile passed over the pale lips of the old man.

"No," he said, after a moment's pause; "I have no mate."

"What is that woman to him, then?" said the chief, with feigned surprise, and pointing to the Spanish woman, who stood pensive and silent by the side of the old man.

"That woman is my mistress."

"Wah! Can it be that my brother is a slave?" said the Comanche, with an ill-omened smile.

"No," the old man replied haughtily! "I am not the slave of that woman, I am her devoted servant."

"Wah!" said the chief, shaking his head, and reflecting deeply upon this reply.

But the words of the Spaniard were unintelligible to the Indian; the distinction was too subtle for him to seize it. At the end of two or three minutes he shook his head, and gave up the endeavour to solve the, to him, incomprehensible problem.

"Good!" he said, darting an ironical glance through his half-closed eyelids; "the woman shall go with my brother."

"That is what I always intended," the Spaniard replied.

The aged woman, who to this moment had preserved a prudent silence, judged it was now time to take part in the conversation.

"I am thankful to the chief," she said; "but since he is good enough to take interest in our welfare, will he permit me to ask him a favour?"

"Let my mother speak; my ears are open."

"I have a son who is a great white hunter; he must at this moment be in the prairie; perhaps, if my brother would consent to keep us a few days longer with him, it would be possible to meet with him; under his protection we should have nothing to fear."

At these imprudent words the Spaniard made a gesture of terror.

"Señorita!" he said sharply in his native language, "take care lest – "

"Silence!" the Indian interrupted in an angry tone; "why does my white brother speak before me in an unknown tongue? Does he fear I should understand his words?"

"Oh, chief!" said the Spaniard, in a tone of denial.

"Let my brother, then, allow my palefaced mother to speak; she is speaking to a chief."

The old man was silent, but a sad presentiment weighed upon his heart.

The Comanche chief knew perfectly well to whom he was speaking; he was playing with the two Spaniards, as a cat does with a mouse; but, allowing none of his impressions to appear, he turned towards the woman, and bowing with that instinctive courtesy which distinguishes the Indians, said in a mild voice, and with a sympathetic smile, —

"Oh! oh! the son of my mother is a great hunter, is he? So much the better."

The heart of the poor woman dilated with joy.

"Yes," she said, with emotion, "he is one of the bravest trappers on the Western prairies."

"Wah!" said the chief, in a still more amiable manner, "this renowned warrior must have a name respected through the prairies?"

The Spaniard suffered a martyrdom; held in awe by the eye of the Comanche, he did not know how to warn his mistress not to pronounce the name of her son.

"His name is well known," said the woman.

"Oh!" the old man cried eagerly, "all women are thus; with them all their sons are heroes: this one, although an excellent young man, is no better than others; certes, his name has never reached my brother."

"How does my brother know that?" said the Indian, with a sardonic smile.

"I suppose so," the old man replied; "or, at least, if by chance my brother has heard it pronounced, it must long ago have escaped his memory, and does not merit being recalled to it. If my brother will permit us, we will retire; the day has been fatiguing; the hour of repose is come."

"In an instant," said the Comanche quietly; and turning to the woman, "What is the name of the warrior of the palefaces?" he asked, in a peremptory tone.

But the old lady, placed upon her guard by the intervention of her servant, with whose prudence and devotion she was well acquainted, made no answer, conscious that she had committed a fault, and not knowing how to remedy it.

"Does not my mother hear me?" said the chief.

"Of what use would it be to repeat to you a name which, according to all probability, is unknown to you, and which cannot interest you? If my brother will permit me, I will retire."

"No; not before my mother has told me the name of her son, the great warrior," said the Comanche, knitting his brow and stamping his foot with ill-restrained anger.

The old Spaniard saw an end must be put to this; his determination was formed in a second.

"My brother is a great chief," he said, "although his hair is still brown, his wisdom is immense. I am his friend, and am sure he would not abuse the chance that has delivered into his hands the mother of his enemy: the name of that woman's son is Loyal Heart."

"Wah!" said Eagle Head, with a sinister smile, "I knew that well enough: why have the palefaces two hearts and two tongues? and why do they always seek to deceive the redskins?"

"We have not sought to deceive you, chief."

"I say you have. Since you have been with us, you have been treated as children of the tribe. I have saved your life!"

"That is true."

"Very well," he resumed, with an ironical smile, "I will prove to you that Indians do not forget, and that they know how to render good for evil. These wounds that you see me bear, who inflicted them? Loyal Heart! We are enemies; his mother is in my power; I could at once tie her to the stake of torture; it is my right to do so."

The two Spaniards hung their heads.

"The law of the prairies is an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Listen to me well, Old Oak. In remembrance of our ancient friendship, I grant you a respite. Tomorrow at sunrise, you shall set out in search of Loyal Heart; if, within four days, he does not come to deliver himself up into my hands, his mother shall perish; my young men shall burn her alive at the stake of blood, and my brothers shall make war whistles of her bones. Begone! I have spoken!"