The Trappers of Arkansas: or, The Loyal Heart

The warriors had in their hands guns and clubs, ornamented with black feathers and red cloth, of which they brought the butts to the ground as they danced.

These men formed a vast semicircle around the stake; in face of them, and completing the circle, the women danced.

Eagle Head, who led the warriors, carried a long staff, at the end of which was suspended a human scalp, surmounted by a stuffed pie with its wings out-spread; a little lower on the same stick were a second scalp, the skin of a lynx, and some feathers.

When they had danced thus for an instant, the musicians placed themselves by the side of the condemned, and made a deafening noise, singing, whilst beating the drums with all their force, and shaking the chicikoués.

This dance continued a considerable time, accompanied by atrocious howlings, enough to madden with terror the unfortunate woman to whom they presaged the frightful tortures that awaited her.

At length Eagle Head touched the condemned lightly with his stick. At this signal the tumult ceased as if by enchantment, the ranks were broken, and everyone seized his weapons.

The punishment was about to begin!

CHAPTER XX.

THE TORTURE

As soon as the scalp dance was over, the principal warriors of the tribe ranged themselves before the stake, their arms in hand, whilst the women, particularly the most aged, fell upon the condemned, abusing her, pushing her, pulling her hair, and striking her, without her opposing the least resistance, or seeking to escape the ill-treatment with which they loaded her.

The unfortunate woman only hoped for one thing, and that was to see her punishment begin.

She had watched with feverish impatience the whirlings of the scalp dance, so greatly did she fear to see her beloved son appear and place himself between her and her executioners.

Like the ancient martyrs, she in her heart accused the Indians of losing precious time in useless ceremonies; if she had had the strength, she would have reprimanded them, and rallied them upon their slowness and the hesitation they seemed to display in the sacrifice.

The truth was, that in spite of themselves, and although this execution appeared just, the Comanches had a repugnance to torture a helpless woman, already aged, and who had never injured them, either directly or indirectly.

Eagle Head himself, notwithstanding his hatred, felt something like a secret remorse for the crime he was committing. Far from hastening on the last preparations, he only assisted with an indecision and a disgust that he could not succeed in surmounting.

For intrepid men, accustomed to brave the greatest perils, it is always a degrading action to torture a weak creature, or a woman who has no other defence than her tears. If it had been a man, the agreement would have been general throughout the tribe to tie him to the stake.

Indian prisoners laugh at punishment, they insult their executioners, and, in their death songs, they reproach their conquerors with their cowardice, their inexperience in making their victims suffer; they enumerate their own brave deeds, they count the enemies they scalped before they themselves yielded; in short, by their sarcasms and their contemptuous attitudes, they excite the anger of their executioners, reanimate their hatred, and, to a certain point, justify their ferocity.

But a woman, weak and resigned, presenting herself like a lamb to the shambles, already half dead, what interest could such an execution offer?

There was no glory to be gained, but, on the contrary, a general reprobation to draw upon themselves.

The Comanches comprehended all this, thence their repugnance and hesitation. Nevertheless, the business must be gone through.

Eagle Head approached the prisoner, and delivering her from the harpies who annoyed her, said in a solemn voice —

"Woman, I have kept my promise; your son is not come, you are about to die."

"Thanks," she said, in a tremulous voice, leaning against a tree to avoid falling.

"Are you not afraid of death?" he asked.

"No," she replied, fixing upon him a look of angelic mildness; "it will be most welcome; my life has been nothing but one long agony; death will be to me a blessing."

"But your son?"

"My son will be saved if I die; you have sworn it upon the bones of your fathers."

"I have sworn it."

"Deliver me up to death, then."

"Are the women of your nation, then, like Indian squaws, who view torture without trembling?" the chief asked, with astonishment.

"Yes," she replied with great agitation; "all mothers despise it when the safety of their children is at stake."

"Listen," said the Indian, moved with involuntary pity; "I also have a mother whom I love; if you desire it, I will retard your punishment till sunset."

"What should you do that for?" she replied with terrible simplicity. "No, warrior; if my grief really touches you, there is one favour, one favour alone which you can grant me."

"Name it," he said earnestly.

"Put me to death immediately."

"But if your son arrives?"

"Of what importance is that to you? You require a victim, do you not? Very well, that victim is before you, you may torture her at your pleasure. Why do you hesitate? Put me to death, I say."

"Your desire shall be satisfied," the Comanche replied in a melancholy tone. "Woman, prepare yourself."

She bowed her head upon her breast, and waited. Upon a signal from Eagle Head, two warriors seized the prisoner, and tied her to the stake round the waist.

Then the exercise of the knife began; this is what it consists of: —

Every warrior seizes his scalping knife by the point with the thumb and the first finger of his right hand, and launches it at the victim, so as to inflict only slight wounds.

Indians, in their punishments, endeavour to make the tortures continue as long as possible, and only give their enemy the coup de grâce when they have torn life from him by degrees, and, so to say, piecemeal.

The warriors launched their knives with such marvellous skill, that all of them just grazed the unfortunate woman, inflicting nothing more than scratches.

The blood, however, flowed, she closed her eyes, and, absorbed in herself, prayed fervently for the mortal stroke.

The warriors, to whom her body served as a target, grew warmer by degrees; curiosity, the desire of showing their skill, had taken in their minds the place of the pity they had at first felt. They applauded with loud shouts and laughter the prowess of the most adroit.

In a word, as it always happens, as well among civilized people as among savages, blood intoxicated them; their self-love was brought into play; everyone sought to surpass the man who had preceded him; all other considerations were forgotten.

When all had thrown their knives, a small number of the most skilful marksmen of the tribe took their guns.

This time it was necessary to have a sure eye, for an ill-directed ball might terminate the punishment, and deprive the spectators of the attractive spectacle which promised them so much pleasure.

At every discharge the poor creature shrank within herself, though giving no signs of life beyond a nervous shudder which agitated her whole body.

"Let us have an end of this," said Eagle Head, who felt, in spite of himself, his heart of bronze soften before so much courage and abnegation. "Comanche warriors are not jaguars; this woman has suffered enough; let her die at once."

A few murmurs were heard among the squaws and the children, who were the most eager for the punishment of the prisoner.

But the warriors were of the opinion of their chief; this execution, shorn of the insults that victims generally address to their conquerors, possessed no attraction for them, and, besides, they were ashamed of such inveteracy against a woman.

Hence they spared the unfortunate woman the splinters of wood inserted under the nails, the sulphur matches fastened between the fingers, the mask of honey applied to the face that the bees might come and sting them, together with other tortures too long and hideous to enumerate, and they prepared the funeral pile upon which she was to be burnt.

But before proceeding to the last act of this atrocious tragedy, they untied the poor woman; for a few minutes they allowed her to take breath and recover from the terrible emotions she had undergone.

She sank on the ground almost insensible.

Eagle Head approached her.

"My mother is brave," he said; "many warriors would not have borne the trials with so much courage."

A faint smile passed over her violet lips.

"I have a son," she replied with a look of ineffable sweetness; "it is for him I suffer."

"A warrior is happy in having such a mother."

"Why do you defer my death? It is cruel to act thus; warriors ought not to torment women."

"My mother is right, her tortures are ended."

"Am I going to die at last?" she asked with a sigh of relief.

"Yes, they are preparing the pile."

In spite of herself, the poor woman felt a shudder of horror thrill her whole frame at this fearful intimation.

"Burn me!" she cried with terror; "why burn me?"

"It is the usual custom."

She let her head sink into her hands; but soon recovering, she drew herself up, and raised an inspired glance towards Heaven, —

"My God!" she murmured with resignation, "Thy will be done!"

"Does my mother feel herself sufficiently recovered to be fastened to the stake?" the chief asked in something like a tone of compassion.

"Yes!" she said rising resolutely.

Eagle Head could not repress a gesture of admiration. Indians consider courage as the first of virtues.

"Come, then," he said.

The prisoner followed him with a firm step – all her strength was restored, she was at length going to die!

The chief led her to the stake of blood, to which she was bound a second time; before her they piled up the faggots of green wood, and at a signal from Eagle Head, they were set on fire.

The fire did not for some time take, on account of the moisture of the wood, which discharged clouds of smoke; but, after a few moments, the flame sparkled, extended by degrees, and then acquired great intensity.

The unfortunate woman could not suppress a cry of terror.

At that moment a horseman dashed at full speed into the midst of the camp; at a bound he was on the ground, and before anyone could have opposed him, he tore away the burning wood from the pile, and cut the bonds of the victim.

"Oh! why have you come?" the poor mother murmured, sinking into his arms.

"My mother! ho, pardon me!" Loyal Heart cried, "my God! how you must have suffered."

"Begone, begone, Rafaël!" she repeated, smothering him with kisses; "leave me to die in your place; ought not a mother to give her life for her child?"

"Oh do not speak so, my mother! you will drive me mad," said the young man, clasping her in his arms with despair.

By this time the emotion caused by the sudden appearance of Loyal Heart had subsided, the Indian warriors had recovered that stoicism which they affect under all circumstances.

Eagle Head advanced towards the hunter.

"My brother is welcome," he said, "I had given over expecting him."

"I am here; it was impossible to arrive sooner; my mother is free, I suppose?"

"She is free."

"She may go where she pleases?"

"Where she pleases."

"No," said the prisoner, placing herself resolutely in front of the Indian chief, "it is too late, it is I who am to suffer; my son has no right to take my place."

"Dear mother, what are you saying?"

"That which is just," she replied with animation; "the time at which you were to have come is past, you have no right to be here to prevent my death. Begone, begone, Rafaël, I implore you! – Leave me to die to save you," she added, bursting into tears and throwing herself into his arms.

"My mother," the young man replied, returning her caresses, "your love for me misleads you; I cannot allow such a crime to be accomplished, I alone ought to be here."

"My God! my God!" the poor mother exclaimed, sobbing, "he will not understand anything! I should be so happy to die for him."

Overcome by emotions too powerful for nature, the poor mother sunk fainting into the arms of her son.

Loyal Heart impressed a long and tender kiss upon her brow, and placing her in the hands of Nô Eusebio, who had arrived some minutes before: said in a voice choked with grief.

"Begone, poor mother, may she be happy, if happiness can exist for her without her child."

The old servant sighed, pressed the hand of Loyal Heart warmly, and placing the lifeless form of his mistress before him in the saddle, he turned his horse's head and left the camp slowly, no one attempting to oppose his departure.

Loyal Heart looked after his mother as long as he could see her; then, when she disappeared, and the steps of the horse that bore her could no longer be heard, he breathed a deep, broken sigh, and passing his hand over his brow, murmured, —

"All is ended! My God, watch over her!"

Then, turning towards the Indian chief who surveyed him in silence, mingled with respect and admiration – he said in a firm clear voice, and with a contemptuous look, —

"Comanche warriors! you are all cowards! brave men do not torture women!"

Eagle Head smiled.

"We shall see," he said ironically, "if the pale trapper is as brave as he pretends to be."

"At least I shall know how to die like a man," he replied haughtily.

"The mother of the hunter is free."

"Yes. Well! what do you want with me?"

"A prisoner has no arms."

"That's true," he said, with a smile of contempt, "I will give you mine."

"Not yet, if you please, good friend!" said a clear, sarcastic voice; and Belhumeur rode up, bearing across the front of his saddle a child of four or five years of age, and a rather pretty young Indian Squaw securely fastened to the tail of his horse.

"My son! my wife!" cried Eagle Head, in great terror.

"Yes," said the Canadian jeeringly, "your wife and child, whom I have made prisoners. Ah ah! that is pretty well played, is it not?"

At a signal from his friend, Loyal Heart bounded on the woman, whose teeth chattered with fear, and who cast terrified looks on all sides.

"Now," Belhumeur continued with a sinister smile, "let us talk a bit; I think I have equalized the chances a little – what say you?"

And he placed the muzzle of a pistol to the brow of the little creature, which uttered loud cries on feeling the cold iron.

"Oh!" cried Eagle Head, in a tone of despair, "my son! restore me my son!"

"And your wife – do you forget her?" Belhumeur replied, with an ironical smile, and shrugging his shoulders.

"What are your conditions?" Eagle Head asked.

END OF THE FIRST PART

PART II.

WAKTEHNO – "he who kills."

CHAPTER I.

LOYAL HEART

The position was completely changed.

The hunters, who a moment before were at the mercy of the Indians, felt they were not only in a manner free, but that they had it in their power to impose hard conditions.

Many guns were levelled in the direction of the Canadian – many arrows were pointed towards him; but, at a signal from Eagle Head, the guns were recovered, and the arrows were returned to the quivers.

The shame of being foiled by two men who audaciously braved them in the middle of their own camp, made the hearts of the Comanches burn with anger. They were sensible of the impossibility of contending with their desperate adversaries. In fact, what could they do against these intrepid wood rangers, who reckoned life as nothing?

Kill them?

But, in falling, they would slaughter without pity the prisoners whom the Comanches were anxious to save. The most strongly developed feeling among redskins is love of family.

For the sake of his children or his wife, the fiercest warrior would not hesitate to make concessions which the most frightful tortures, under other circumstances, could not force from him. Thus, at the sight of his wife and child fallen into the power of Belhumeur, Eagle Head only thought of their safety.

Of all men, Indians are perhaps those who know how to bend with the greatest facility to the exigencies of an unforeseen situation.

The Comanche chief concealed in the depths of his heart the hatred and anger which devoured him. With a movement full of nobleness and disinterestedness, he threw back the blanket which served him as a cloak, and with a calm countenance and a smile on his lips, he approached the hunters.

The latter, long accustomed to the mode of action of the redskins, remained in appearance impassible, awaiting the result of their bold coup de main.

"My pale brothers," the chief said, "are full of wisdom, though their hair is black; they are acquainted with all the stratagems familiar to great warriors; they have the cunning of the beaver and the courage of the lion."

The two men bowed in silence, and Eagle Head continued, —

"As my brother Loyal Heart is in the camp of the Comanches of the great lakes, the hour has at length arrived for dispersing the clouds which have arisen between him and the redskins. Loyal Heart is just; let him explain himself without fear; he is in the presence of renowned chiefs, who will not hesitate to acknowledge their wrongs, if they have any towards him."

"Oh! oh!" the Canadian replied with a sneer; "Eagle Head has quickly changed his sentiments with respect to us; does he believe he can deceive us with vain words?"

A flash of hatred sparkled in the savage eye of the Indian; but, with an extraordinary effort, he succeeded in restraining himself.

Suddenly a man stepped between the interlocutors.

This man was Eshis, the most highly venerated warrior of the tribe.

The old man slowly raised his arm.

"Let my children listen to me," he said; "everything should be cleared up today; the pale hunters will smoke the calumet in council."

"Be it so," said Loyal Heart.

Upon a signal from the Sun the principal chiefs of the tribe came and ranged themselves around him.

Belhumeur had not changed his position; he was ready, at the slightest doubtful gesture, to sacrifice his prisoners.

When the pipe had gone the round of the circle formed near the hunters, the old chief collected himself; then, after bowing to the whites, he spoke as follows: —

"Warriors, I thank the Master of Life for loving us redskins, and for having this day sent us two pale men, who may at length open their hearts. Take courage, young men; do not allow yourselves to be cast down, and drive away the evil spirit far from you. We love you, Loyal Heart; we have heard of your humanity towards Indians. We believe that your heart is open, and that your veins flow clear as the sun. It is true that we Indians have not much sense when the firewater has power over us, and that we may have displeased you in various circumstances. But we hope you will think no more of it; and that, as long as you and we shall be in the prairies, we shall hunt side by side, as warriors who respect and love each other ought to do."

To which Loyal Heart replied: —

"You, chiefs and other members of the nation of the Comanches of the great lakes, whose eyes are opened, I hope you will lend an ear to the words of my mouth. The Master of Life has opened my brain, and caused friendly words to be breathed into my breast. My heart is filled with feelings for you, your wives, and your children; and what I say to you now proceeds from the roots of the feelings of myself and my friend. Never in the prairie has my hatto been closed against the hunters of your nation. Why then do you make war against us? Why should you torture my mother, who is an old woman, and seek to deprive me of life? I am averse to the shedding of Indian blood; for, I repeat to you, that notwithstanding all the ill you have done me, my heart leaps towards you!"

"Wah!" interrupted Eagle Head; "my brother speaks well: but the wound he inflicted upon me is not yet healed."

"My brother is foolish," the hunter replied; "does he think me so unskilful that I could not have killed him, if such had been my intention? I will prove to you what I am capable of, and what I understand by the courage of a warrior. If I make but a sign, that woman and that child will have ceased to live!"

"Yes!" Belhumeur added.

A shudder ran through the ranks of the assembly. Eagle Head felt a cold perspiration pealing on his temples.

Loyal Heart preserved silence for a minute, fixing an indefinable look upon the Indians; then, raising his shoulders with disdain, he threw his weapons at his feet, and crossing his arms upon his breast, he turned towards the Canadian.

"Belhumeur," he said, in a calm, clear voice, "restore these two poor creatures to liberty."

"How can you dream of such a thing?" cried the astonished hunter; "why, that would be your sentence of death!"

"I know it would."

"Well?"

"I beg you to do it."

The Canadian made no reply. He began to whistle between his teeth, and, drawing his knife, he, at a stroke, cut the bonds which confined his captives, who bounded away like jaguars, uttering howlings of joy, to conceal themselves among their friends. He then replaced his knife in his belt, threw down his weapons, dismounted, and went and placed himself resolutely by the side of Loyal Heart.

"What are you doing?" the latter cried. "Make your escape, my friend."

"What! save myself and leave you?" the Canadian replied, carelessly. "No, thank you. As I must die once, I had quite as lief it should be today as hereafter. I shall never, perhaps, find so good an opportunity."

The two men shook hands with an energetic grip.

"Now, chiefs," Loyal Heart said, addressing the Indians in his clear, calm voice, "we are in your power, do with us as you think proper."

The Comanches looked at each other for an instant in a state of stupor. The stoical abnegation of these two men, who, by the bold action of one of them, might not only have escaped, but have dictated terms to them, and who, instead of profiting by this immense advantage, threw down their weapons and delivered themselves into their hands, appeared to them to exceed all instances of heroism celebrated in their nation.

There followed a sufficiently long silence, during which the hearts might be heard beating in the breasts of those men of bronze, who, by their primitive impulsive education, are more apt than might be believed to understand all true feelings, and appreciate all really noble actions.

At length Eagle Head, after a little hesitation, threw down his arms, and approaching the hunters, said, in an agitated voice, which contrasted with the stoical and indifferent appearance he sought in vain to preserve, —

"It is true, warriors of the palefaces, that you have great sense, that it sweetens the words you address to us, and that we all understand you; we know also that truth opens your lips. It is very difficult for us Indians, who have not the reason of the whites, to avoid often committing, without wishing to do so, reprehensible actions; but we hope that Loyal Heart will take the skin from his heart, so that it may be as clear as ours, and that between us the hatchet may be buried so deeply that the sons of the sons of his grandsons, in a thousand moons and a hundred more, will not be able to find it."

And placing his two hands upon the shoulders of the hunter, he kissed him upon the eyes, adding, —

"May Loyal Heart be my brother!"

"Be it so!" said the hunter, rejoiced at this conclusion; "henceforth I shall entertain for the Comanches as much friendship as, up to this time, I have had mistrust."

The Indian chiefs crowded round their new friends, upon whom they lavished, with the ingenuousness that characterizes primitive natures, marks of affection and respect.

The two hunters had been long known in the tribe of the Serpent; their reputation was established. Often at night, around their campfire, their exploits had struck with admiration the young men to whom the old warriors related them.

The reconciliation was frank between Loyal Heart and Eagle Head; there did not remain between them the least trace of their past hatred. The heroism of the white hunter had conquered the animosity of the redskin warrior.