The Trappers of Arkansas: or, The Loyal Heart

The two men were chatting, peaceably seated at the entrance of a hut, when a great cry was heard, and an Indian, with his features distorted by terror, rushed into the camp.

All crowded round this man to learn his news; but the Indian, perceiving Eagle Head, advanced towards him.

"What is going on?" the chief asked.

The Indian cast a ferocious look at Loyal Heart and Belhumeur, who had no more idea than the others of the cause of this panic.

"Take care that these two palefaces do not escape; we are betrayed," he said, in a broken voice, panting from the speed with which he had come.

"Let my brother explain himself more clearly," said Eagle Head.

"All the white trappers, the long knives of the west, are assembled; they form a war detachment of near a hundred men; they are advancing and spreading themselves in such a manner, as to invest the camp on all sides at once."

"Are you sure these hunters come as enemies?" said the chief again.

"What else can they be?" the Indian warrior replied. "They are creeping like serpents through the high grass, with their guns before them, and their scalping knives in their teeth. Chief, we are betrayed; these men have been sent among us to lull our vigilance to sleep."

Eagle Head and Loyal Heart exchanged a glance of an undefinable expression, and which was an enigma for all but themselves.

The Comanche chief turned towards the Indian.

"Did you see," he said, "who marched at the head of the hunters?"

"Yes, I saw him."

"Was it Amick (Black Elk), the principal guardian of Loyal Heart's traps?"

"Who else could it be?"

"Very well! Retire," said the warrior, dismissing the messenger with a nod of the head; then, addressing the hunter, he asked,

"What is to be done?"

"Nothing," Loyal Heart replied, "this concerns me, my brother must leave me to act alone."

"My brother is master!"

"I will go and meet these hunters; let Eagle Head keep his young men in the camp till my return."

"That shall be done."

Loyal Heart threw his gun upon his shoulder, gave Belhumeur a shake of the hand, and a smile to the Comanche chief, and then directed his course to the forest, at that pace, at once firm and easy, which was habitual to him.

He soon disappeared among the trees.

"Hum;" said Belhumeur, lighting his Indian pipe, and addressing Eagle Head, "you see, chief, that in this world, it is not often a bad speculation, to allow ourselves to be guided by our hearts."

And satisfied beyond measure with this philosophical fancy, which appeared to him quite to the purpose, the Canadian enveloped himself in a thick cloud of smoke.

By the orders of the chief, all the sentinels spread round the outskirts of the camp were called in.

The Indians awaited with impatience the result of Loyal Heart's proceedings.

CHAPTER II.

THE PIRATES

It was evening, at a distance nearly equal from the camp of the Mexicans, and that of the Comanches.

Concealed in a ravine, deeply enclosed between two hills, about forty men were assembled around several fires, dispersed in such a manner that the light of the flames could not betray their presence.

The strange appearance offered by this assemblage of adventurers, with gloomy features, ferocious glances, and strange and mean attire, offered a feature worthy of the crayon of Callot, or the pencil of Salvator Rosa.

These men, a heterogeneous mixture of all the nationalities that people the two worlds, from Russia to China, were the most complete collection of scoundrels that can be imagined; thorough food for the gallows, without faith or law, fire or home, the true outcasts of society, which had rejected them from its bosom, obliged to seek a refuge in the depths of the prairies of the west; even in these deserts they formed a band apart, fighting sometimes against the hunters, sometimes against the Indians, excelling both in cruelty and roguery.

These men were, in a word, what people have agreed to call, the pirates of the prairies.

A denomination which suits them in every way, since, like their brothers of the ocean, hoisting all colours, or rather tramping them all underfoot, they fall upon every traveller who ventures to cross the prairies alone, attack and plunder caravans, and when all other prey escapes them, they hide themselves traitorously in the high grass to entrap the Indians, whom they assassinate in order to gain the premium which the paternal government of the United States gives for every aboriginal scalp, as in France they pay for the head of a wolf.

This troop was commanded by Captain Waktehno, whom we have already had occasion to bring on the scene.

There prevailed at this moment among these bandits an agitation that presaged some mysterious expedition.

Some were cleaning and loading their arms, others mending their clothes; some were smoking and drinking mezcal, others were asleep, folded in their ragged cloaks.

The horses, all saddled and ready for mounting, were fastened to pickets.

At stated distances, sentinels, leaning on their long rifles, silent and motionless as statues of bronze, watched over the safety of all.

The dying flashes of the fires, which were expiring by degrees, threw a reddish reflection upon this picture that gave the pirates a still fiercer aspect.

The captain appeared a prey to extreme anxiety; he walked with long strides among his subordinates, stamping his foot with anger, and stopping at intervals to listen to the sound of the prairies.

The night became darker and darker, the moon had disappeared, the wind moaned hoarsely among the hills, and the pirates had eventually fallen asleep one after another.

The captain alone still watched.

All at once he fancied that he heard at a distance the report of firearms, then a second, and all again was silent.

"What does this mean?" the captain murmured, angrily; "have my rascals allowed themselves to be surprised?"

Then, folding himself carefully in his cloak, he hastily directed his course to the side whence the reports appeared to come.

The darkness was intense; and, notwithstanding his knowledge of the country, the captain could only advance with difficulty through brambles, thistles, and briars, which, at every step, impeded his progress. He was several times obliged to stop and look about him to be sure of his route, from which the turnings and windings necessitated by blocks of rock and thickets, continually diverted him.

During one of these halts, he fancied he could perceive, at a small distance from him, the rustling of leaves and boughs, like that which is produced by the passage of a man or a wild beast through underwood.

The captain concealed himself behind the trunk of a gigantic acajou, drew his pistols, and cocked them, in order to be prepared for whatever might happen; then, bending his head forward, he listened.

All was calm around him; it was that mysterious time of night when Nature seems to sleep, and when all the nameless sounds of the solitude are quieted down, so that, as the Indians express it, nothing is to be heard but silence.

"I must have been deceived," the pirate muttered; and he began to retrace his steps. But, at that moment, the noise was repeated, nearer and more distinctly, and was immediately followed by a stifled groan.

"The devil!" said the captain; "this begins to be interesting: I must clear this up."

After a hasty movement forward of a few steps, he saw, gliding along, at a short distance from him, the scarcely distinguishable shadow of a man. This person, whoever he was, seemed to walk with difficulty; he staggered at every step, and stopped at intervals, as if to recover strength. He frequently allowed a smothered complaint to escape him. The captain sprang forward, to bar his passage. When the unknown perceived him, he uttered a cry of terror, and fell on his knees, murmuring in a voice broken by terror —

"Pardon! pardon! do not kill me!"

"Why!" exclaimed the astonished captain, "it is the Babbler! Who the devil has treated him in this fashion?"

And he bent over him.

It was indeed the guide.

He had fainted.

"Plague stifle the fool!" the captain muttered, with vexation. "What's the use of asking him anything now?"

But the pirate was a man of resources; he replaced his pistols in his belt, and raising the wounded man, he threw him over his shoulders.

Loaded with his burden, which scarcely seemed to lessen his speed, he hastily returned to the camp by the way he had left it.

He deposited the guide close to a half-extinguished brazier, into which he threw an armful of dry wood to revive it. A clear blaze soon enabled him to examine the man who lay senseless at his feet.

The features of the Babbler were livid, a cold perspiration stood in drops upon his temples, and the blood flowed in abundance from a wound in his breast.

"Cascaras!" the captain muttered; "here is a poor devil who has got his business done! I hope before he departs he will, however, tell me who has done him this favour, and what has become of Kennedy!"

Like all the wood rangers, the captain possessed a small practical knowledge of medicine; it was nothing new to him to dress a shot wound.

Thanks to the attentions he lavished on the bandit, the latter was not long in coming to himself. He breathed a heavy sigh, opened his haggard eyes, but remained for some time unable to speak; after several fruitless efforts, however, aided by the captain, he succeeded in sitting up, and shaking his head repeatedly, he murmured in a low, broken voice:

"All is lost, captain! Our plan has failed!"

"A thousand thunders!" the captain cried, stamping his feet with rage. "How has this happened?"

"The girl is a demon!" the guide replied, whose difficult respiration and gradually weaker voice showed that he had but a few minutes to live.

"If you can manage, anyhow," said the captain, who had understood nothing by the exclamation of the wounded man, "tell me how things have gone on, and who is your assassin, that I may avenge you."

A sinister smile painfully crossed the violet lips of the guide.

"The name of my assassin?" he said, in an ironical tone.

"Yes."

"Well, her name is Doña Luz."

"Doña Luz!" the captain cried, starting with surprise, "impossible!"

"Listen," the guide resumed; "my moments are numbered; I shall soon be a dead man. In my position people don't lie. Let me speak without interrupting me. I don't know whether I shall have time to tell you all, before I go to render my account to Him who knows everything."

"Speak!" said the captain.

And, as the voice of the wounded man became weaker and weaker, he went down upon his knees close to him, in order to lose none of his words.

The guide closed his eyes, collected himself for a few seconds, and then, with great effort, said, —

"Give me some brandy?"

"You must be mad! brandy will kill you!"

The wounded man shook his head.

"It will give me the necessary strength to enable me to tell you all I have to say. Am I not already half dead!"

"That's true," muttered the captain.

"Do not hesitate, then," the wounded man replied, who had heard him; "time presses; I have important things to inform you of."

"If it must be so, it must," said the captain, after a moment's hesitation; and taking his gourd, he applied it to the lips of the guide.

The latter drank eagerly and copiously; a feverish flush coloured his hollow cheeks, his almost extinguished eyes flashed and gleamed with an unnatural fire.

"Now," he said, in a firm and pretty loud voice, "do not interrupt me: when you see me become weak, let me drink again. I, perhaps, shall have time to tell you all."

The captain made a sign of assent, and the Babbler began.

His recital was rendered long by the repeated weakness with which he was seized; when it was terminated, he added, —

"You see, that this woman is, as I have told you, a demon; she has killed both Kennedy and me. Renounce the capture of her, captain; she is game you cannot bring down; you will never get possession of her."

"Hum!" said the captain, knitting his brows; "do you imagine that I give up my projects in that fashion?"

"I wish you luck, then," the guide murmured; "as for me, my business is done – my account is settled. Adieu, captain!" he added, with a strange sort of smile, "I am going to all the devils – we shall meet again yonder."

And he sank back.

The captain endeavoured to raise him again; but he was dead.

"A good journey to you!" he muttered, carelessly. He took the corpse upon his shoulders, carried it into a thicket, in the middle of which he made a hole, and placed it in it; then, this operation being achieved in a few minutes, he returned to the fire, wrapped himself in his cloak, stretched himself on the sod, with his feet towards the brazier, and fell asleep, saying, —

"In a few hours it will be light, and we will than see what we have to do."

Bandits do not sleep late. At sunrise all were on the alert in the camp of the pirates; everyone was preparing for departure.

The captain, far from renouncing his projects, had, on the contrary, determined to hasten the execution of them, so as not to allow the Mexicans time to find among the white trappers of the prairies auxiliaries who might render success impossible.

As soon as he was certain that the orders he had issued were understood, the captain gave the signal for departure. The troop set off in the Indian fashion, that is to say, literally turning their backs towards the point to which they directed their course. When they arrived at a spot which appeared to present to them the security they desired, the pirates dismounted; the horses were confided to a few determined men, and the rest, crawling along upon the ground like a swarm of vipers, or jumping from branch to branch, and from tree to tree, advanced, with all the customary precautions, towards the camp of the Mexicans.

CHAPTER III.

DEVOTEDNESS

As we said in a preceding chapter, the doctor had left the camp of the Mexicans, charged by Doña Luz with a message for Black Elk.

Like all learned men, the doctor was absent by nature, and that with the best intentions in the world.

During the first moments, according to the custom of his brethren, he puzzled his brain to endeavour to make out the signification of the words, somewhat cabalistical in his opinion, that he was to repeat to the trapper.

He could not comprehend what assistance his friends could possibly obtain from a half-wild man, who lived alone in the prairie, and whose existence was passed in hunting and trapping.

If he had accepted this mission so promptly, the profound friendship he professed for the niece of the general was the sole cause: although he expected no advantageous result from it, as we have said, he had set out resolutely, convinced that the certainty of his departure would calm the uneasiness of the young lady. In short, he had rather meant to satisfy the caprice of a patient, than undertake a serious affair.

In the persuasion, therefore, that the mission with which he was charged was a useless one, instead of going full speed, as he ought to have done, to the toldo of Black Elk, he dismounted, passed his arm through his bridle, and began to look for simples, an occupation which, ere long, so completely absorbed him, that he entirely forgot the instructions of Doña Luz, and the reason why he had left the camp.

In the meanwhile, time passed slowly because anxiously; half the day was gone, and the doctor, who ought long before to have returned, did not appear.

The uneasiness became great in the camp, where the general and the captain had organized everything for a vigorous defence in case of attack.

But nothing appeared.

The greatest calm continued to prevail in the environs; the Mexicans were not far from thinking it a false alarm.

Doña Luz alone felt her inquietude increase every instant; with her eyes fixed upon the plain, she looked in vain in the direction her expected messengers should arrive by.

All at once, it struck her that the high grass of the prairie had an oscillating motion which was not natural to it.

There was not a breath in the air; a heavy, stifling heat weighed down all nature; the leaves of the trees, scorched by the sun, were motionless; the high grass alone, agitated by a slow and mysterious movement, continued to oscillate.

And, what was most extraordinary, this almost imperceptible motion, which required close attention to be observed, was not general; on the contrary, it was successive, approaching the camp by degrees, with a regularity which gave reason for supposing an organized impulsion; so that, in proportion as it was communicated to the nearest grass, the most distant returned by degrees to a state of complete immobility, from which it did not change.

The sentinels placed in the intrenchments could not tell to what to attribute this movement, of which they understood nothing.

The general, as an experienced soldier, resolved to know what it meant; although he had never personally had to do with the Indians, he had heard too much of their manner of fighting not to suspect some stratagem.

Not wishing to weaken the camp, which stood in need of all its defenders, he resolved himself to undertake the adventure, and go out on the scout.

At the instant he was about to climb over the intrenchments, the captain stopped him, by placing his hand respectfully on his shoulders.

"What do you want with, me, my friend?" the general asked, turning round.

"I wish, with your permission, to put a question to you, general."

"Do so."

"You are leaving the camp?"

"I am."

"To go in search of intelligence, no doubt?"

"I admit that is my intention."

"Then, general, it is to me that mission belongs."

"Ay! how is that?" said the astonished general.

"Good God! general, that is very plain; I am but a poor devil of an officer, and owe everything to you."

"What then?"

"The peril I shall run, if peril there be, will not in any way compromise the success of the expedition; whereas – "

"If you are killed."

The general started.

"Everything must be foreseen and provided for," continued the captain, "when we have before us such adversaries as those that threaten us."

"That is true. What then?"

"Well, the expedition will fail, and not one of us will ever see a civilized country again. You are the head; we are but the arms; remain, therefore, in the camp."

The general reflected for a few seconds; then pressing the hand of the young man cordially, he said, —

"Thank you, but I must see for myself what is being plotted against us. The circumstance is too serious to allow me to trust even to you."

"You must remain in the camp, general," persisted the captain, "if not for our sake, at least for that of your niece, that innocent and delicate creature, who, if any misfortune should happen to you, would find herself alone, abandoned amidst ferocious tribes, without support, and without a protector. Of what consequence is my life to me, a poor lad without a family, who owes everything to your kindness? The hour is come to prove my gratitude – let me discharge my debt."

"But – " the general tried to speak.

"You know," the young man continued, warmly, "if I could take your place with Doña Luz, I would do it with joy; but I am as yet too young to play that noble part. Come, general, let me go instead of you, it is my duty to do so."

Half by persuasion, half by force he succeeded in drawing the old soldier back; he sprang upon the intrenchments, leaped down on the other side, and set off at full speed, after making a last sign of farewell.

The general looked after him as long as he could perceive him; then he passed his hand across his careful brow, murmuring, —

"Brave boy! excellent nature!"

"Is he not, uncle?" Doña Luz replied, who had approached and listened without being seen.

"Ah! were you there, dear child?" he said, with a smile, which he endeavoured in vain to render cheerful.

"Yes, dear uncle, I have heard all."

"That is well, dear little one," the general said, with an effort; "but this is not the time to give way to feeling. I must think of your safety. Do not remain here longer; come with me; an Indian bullet might easily reach you here."

Taking her by the hand, he led her affectionately to the tent.

After leading her in, he gave her a kiss upon her brow, advised her not to go out again, and returned to the intrenchments, where he set himself to watch with the greatest care what was going on in the plain; calculating the while, mentally, the time that had passed since the departure of the doctor, and feeling astonished at not seeing him return.

"He must have fallen in with the Indians," he said; "I only hope they have not killed him."

Captain Aguilar was an intrepid soldier, trained in the incessant wars of Mexico; he knew how to unite prudence with courage.

When he arrived at a certain distance from the camp, he laid himself on the ground, face downwards, and reached, by creeping along thus, a rough piece of rock, admirably situated for concealment and observation.

Everything appeared quiet around him; nothing denoted the approach of an enemy. After spending a sufficient time in keenly exploring with his eyes the country beyond him, he was preparing to return to the camp, with a conviction that the general was deceived, and no imminent peril existed, when suddenly, within ten paces of him, an asshata bounded up in great terror, with ears erect and head thrown back, and fled away with extreme velocity.

"Oh! oh!" the young man said to himself, "there is something here, though. Let us try if we cannot make out what."

Quitting the rock behind which he had been screened, he, with great precaution, advanced a few steps, in order to satisfy his suspicions.

The grass became powerfully agitated, half a score men arose suddenly from various points, and surrounded him before he had time to put himself on the defensive, or regain the shelter he had imprudently quitted.

"Well," he said, with disdainful coolness, "luckily I know now with whom I have to deal."

"Surrender!" one of the men nearest to him shouted.

"No, thank you," he replied, with an ironical smile. "You are fools if you expect that. You must kill me out and out before you take me."

"Then we will kill you, my dainty spark," the first speaker answered, brutally.

"I reckon upon that," said the captain, in a jeering tone; "but I mean to defend myself; that will make a noise, my friends will hear us, your surprise will be a failure, and that is exactly what I wish."

These words were pronounced with a coolness that made the pirates pause. These men belonged to the band of Captain Waktehno, who was himself among them.

"Yes," retorted the captain of the bandits, "your idea is not a bad one, only you forget that we can kill you without making a noise; and so your clever plan will come to nothing."

"Bah! who knows?" said the young man, and before the pirates could prevent him, he made an extraordinary spring backwards, by which he overset two men, and ran with his best speed in the direction of the camp.

The first surprise over, the bandits darted forward in pursuit of him.

This trial of speed lasted a considerable time without the pirates being able to perceive that they gained ground on the fugitive. Though not relaxing in the pursuit, as they tried as much as possible to avoid being seen by the Mexican sentinels, whom they hoped to surprise, they were obliged to make turnings which necessarily impeded their course.

The captain had arrived within hearing of his friends, and he cast a glance behind him. Profiting by a moment in which he had paused to take breath, the bandits had gained upon him considerably, and the young man became aware that if he continued to fly, he should cause the misfortune he wished to avoid.

His determination was formed in an instant; he was satisfied he must die, but he wished to die as a soldier, and make his fall useful to those for whom he devoted himself.

He placed his back against a tree, laid his machete within reach, drew his pistols from his belt, and facing the bandits, who were not more than thirty paces from him, he cried in a loud voice, in order to attract the attention of his friends: —